#didn't include at least 1 year of planning

[oifaaa]

People will try to convince you Jason Todd is the impulsive doesn't think before he acts type of guy and its funny bc Jason is almost comedic in how fucking long it actually takes this boy to plan out anything

[space-blue]

Fixing Vander and Silco's story (a bit)

Using canon events! Sadly we can't actually fix it, but I hope this makes it a little better. I make my own edit proposal at the end that changes the bar scene to include Felicia without issues.

They meet in the mines, and meet Felicia and her partner there too. They end up together somehow (I think we can put the brotherly allegations to rest now, eh?) and one of them (or both) inherit/buy a bar.

Although Vander is the barman, there is no indication Silco doesn't own or co-own the place. After all he comes to take it eventually as his own, and he's still not bartending. That's just not his gig.

It's implied that Vander and Silco made it, as in, got away from the mines, while Felicia clearly didn't, as she comes home to both her daughters with mining gear and gloves.

So despite Vander and Silco building the Lanes together, the mines aren't closed, and the work "isn't done".

Felicia says they've done it, and Vander is happy to celebrate their success. Meanwhile, Silco has his "NoZ" Nation of Zaun book in which he's scribbling, still planning.

Vander's first memory that Viktor sees even has Silco holding that book.

Later, in season 1 episode 3, we see that Vander tells Silco that he had Vander's respect, the Lanes' respect, but it "was never enough".

There's also this fakeout moment in the memory at the bar, where Vander says they're done, and Silco replies with "You're gravely mistaken". And I thought he was going to go all zealous and say "We'll only be done when we have the Nation of Zaun", but no, he claims he's Bozo 1.

And imo, he is probably right. He calls out Vander in act 1 saying "I trusted you and you betrayed me", and Vander does not contest this. It makes the most in character sense as well that Silco is the brains of the operation while Vander is the brawn.

And we can conclude that Silco's goals were always "bigger" and that the Lanes were indeed not enough.

Years pass, during which we can only assume Silco keeps building his Nation of Zaun and Vander happily bartends and manages the Lanes with Silco. Felicia keeps working the mines and raises Vi, then Powder.

Vi is at least 11, if not more, by the time she's on the bridge. This is just consistent with her model, but also to make her 18+ by the time of act 2.

It's a long ass time for Vander and Silco to be running a bar and the Lanes together. Even assuming Vi is more 8 or 9yo, Vander and Silco spend all that time being together.

Sadly, their models aren't aged very well.

We are also forced here to make some unfortunate assumptions.

It's not a problem, IMO, for Silco to know Felicia and be close to her. It's a problem for him to not be close to Vi and Powder too. Close enough to recognise them at least.

It's easy to say, "Well, Felicia went back to the mines and raised her kids and wasn't super involved with Vander and Silco, who lived much higher up in their bar." Adult friendships and all that.

IT MAKES SENSE, but then it makes zero sense that Vander would murder his life's partner, a man he's been with 10 years at MINIMUM (fuck knows how long they were together while in the mines), over the death of a friend in a revolt they allegedly BOTH participated in.

The memories also imply that Silco is responsible somehow, for throwing a molotov. And yet the molotov doesn't kill the enforcer.

But Vander is shown in the opening of Act 1 season 1 pummeling one to death himself, long after the rest of the revolt has died down. That enforcer wasn't getting back up lol

So whatever we pick, because the writers made Felicia and Silco close, they create a plot hole either way.

Either Vander is whacko and murders his husband over a dead friend at a revolt he set up (since he repeatedly apologises for what he did, and claims he "lost his head after she died" and had that guilt on his hands too)

Or Silco and Vi and Powder spend ALL of season 1 acting like they don't know each other at all. Then Silco takes in Powder and somehow never comments on the fact he was friends with her mom.

Everything being triggered by Felicia's death also means that Vander's emotional thematic moment dropping the gauntlets after seeing what his violence led to is then followed up by a horrible attempted murder on the love of his life, which is... you know. Bad writing.

So I propose that they indeed drift apart. Silco knows of Felicia's kids, and they hangout a bit, but they aren't that close. She's busy mining and being a mom, and Silco is busy making the safe Zaun he promised to deliver.

The creation of that Zaun leads them to act out revolts and uprisings. Vander is happy to follow. He's angry, like he tells Vi. And this manifests in violence. Silco points his violence. It's how they create the Lanes and the moniker of Hound of the Underground. A hound usually has a master, after all.

Vander is Silco's hound, and I think, in Vander's mind this absolves him of some of the consequences of his actions.

So when his friend dies on the Bridge, even if they haven't been that close in a while, well, it's easy to put the blame on Silco.

Since we're following the new canon timeline... we'll have to have him go back with the girls, ready to turn a new leaf.

I think the best way here is to have him either dropping them at an orphanage, or back at their home (trusting Vi to look after Powder for a while) or with friends.

That way, Vi and Powder aren't immediately in Silco's legs back at the drop.

Then Vander and Silco take part in the "clean up" at the bridge. They go get bodies, and since they have no real estate in the fissures, they commit them to the sea (we have canon monsters in there, so I'm sure it all gets gobbled up).

That way, we explain why Vander is weirdly shaved, and why Silco and him are at in the Pilt: they just commited the bodies of the fallen to the waters.

There may have been many others, but Silco and Vander stay there, in the shallows, as they talk.

Vander is done. He doesn't want more of this. He thinks Silco went too far with pushing this one to the bridge. Piltover got defensive and they lost too many people.

Silco doesn't get it. Where he goes, so does Vander, but Vander is his own man, he decided to come too, and he killed enforcers too. Felicia's death is tragic, but as he later will tell Renni about the death of her son: at least she died fighting for the cause, and not some petty infighting, or worse, an accident at the shitty mines.

Vander, the Hound, is not only mad with grief, he refuses to carry the blame of his own actions. It's a character flaw and that's fine! The angry man channels that anger with violence, the only way he knows how.

Silco is probably shocked, and may not say the right things to calm Vander down.

Silco is under the assumption that Vander BELIEVES IN HIS DREAM. That he's a true believer of the Nation of Zaun, like Sevika turns out to be. A true believer would understand sacrifice. A true believer would understand too, that stopping now, after Felicia's death, would make THAT VERY DEATH POINTLESS.

So maybe he screams at Vander! What do you MEAN abandoning the fight? What do you mean, being content with the Lanes? How dare you? You'd make her sacrifice meaningless! You'd make Felicia die a pointless death!

And Vander would bellow that it's over. No more death. No more bloodshed. He rescued her kids from that bridge, and they don't deserve to die too, they don't deserve to see more death.

And Silco screams back that it's their job to create Zaun so these children won't have to see more death. Vander is just delaying the struggle.

And then, perhaps, Silco may even mock him. Say that Vander can't change like that. That he's not that sort of person, to just hang up his gauntlets and go peaceful. That Felicia's blood is on his hands too, and that the only way out is through more blood, more sacrifice.

It would be a horrible point to make, if then Vander truly loses it. Silco runs, and Vander's hound comes out, just grabbing Silco and trying to drown him.

It would be poetic, because then Vander goes home in shame. Gets his arm patched up, hides the scar under a brace, collects the kids and tries to pretend like HE CAN BE THAT MAN. Even though he surrendered his gauntlets and metaphorical violence, and tries to lean into the bartender chill persona, there's what he did to Silco.

And later he'll tell Vander "I'll show you what you really are". Because Silco knows that Vander's promises of being a peaceful good dad are flimsy at best.

Anyway, Vander goes home, and eventually the impact of what he's done really hits him. He's single now, and with kids, and the Lanes to run, and nobody knows where Silco is.

Vander slowly realises Silco was right about one thing. Just because Vander followed, doesn't mean he wasn't behind that event on the bridge. Becoming the solo leader of the Lanes has to have hammered that home for him. Suddenly so much responsibility thrust on him.

So Felicia's death was on him too, and his actions against Silco are the proof that he is indeed the sort of man Silco said he was. At any rate, surrendering violence as his first reaction to any trigger will take a lot of work.

He goes to their old hideout and leaves a letter for Silco.

In the happy AU, Silco finds it, and returns to Vander BEFORE ever meeting Singed. There is no glowing eye, no shimmer, and no cannery.

In our AU, Silco never finds the letter. He finds Singed instead. Starts helping him develop shimmer.

I've been thinking that since the goal of shimmer is a form of "keeping alive" and also "bringing back to life", then it's possible that Silco's glowing eye is a byproduct of shimmer experimentation.

And that the only way to keep it alive and function is more shimmer injections. It would otherwise be grey and dead like in the Nice AU.

So Singed is also a factor here. He gives our Silco a real way to deal scary violence to Piltover. And this changes our Silco. He's more radicalised, and more opposed to Vander, having discovered that Vander works with Grayson to keep Zaun under Piltover's boot (basically making sure the boot stays, but doesn't press down too hard).

Vander is, as always, the enforcer of the status quo.

And though this works for them timeline wise, it sadly doesn't change the fact that Silco should know who Vander's kids are.

Vi and Jinx can be excused for not recognising him, what with him being one of their mom's adult friends, and scarred. But Silco doesn't have that luxury. His great friend Felicia had two very distinctive kids, ONE OF WHICH VANDER FUCKING NAMED! And her death triggered his husband so badly he tried to kill Silco over it. If anything, Silco would be hyper-aware of Felicia's kids.

And no amount of alternate fix-its changes that. It's permanent damage to season 1's Silco.

I feel like we can fix Vander's side of things by inventing an entire scene at the Pilt as I did above, but we can't fix 10 years of knowing your friend's kids and then a lifetime of acting like you don't know them.

I think it also cheapens the found family aspect of both Vander and Silco's adoption. You're left to wonder if they took in the girls only because they were friends with the mom.

Silco's adoption of Jinx and co-dependence with her was great because it spoke of the similar shape of their traumas, and how unexpected their bond seemed.

But now it's redolent of friendly obligation. And lies.

How would I fix it by keeping Felicia in the picture?

I would fully remove Felicia's one-on-one with the boys. That night at the bar? It's a party. Young Sevika is here too!

Felicia and many others are there, all congratulating Vander and Silco over the creation of the Lanes. Eventually Silco tires of the social niceties and goes to write in his notebook at the bar. Or maybe there's a montage of the night as the crowds thin.

In the end, Silco is writing, and Vander is still socialising. He talks to 3 people--Felicia, her husband, and a random person. They thank him for all his work. They've done it! And the conditions in the mines are so much better now thanks to XYZ!

Vander is beaming, he's just so pleased. It's clear for him this is the end goal. Felicia asks him, pointing to Silco, if he's okay.

Vander laughs, says Silco is fine, but he's already got his head back in the clouds. You see, Silco doesn't just want the Lanes, he dreams of a free Nation of Zaun.

The other 2 laugh, but Felicia sobers up. She rubs her belly, thoughtful. Then she says "Sounds like a dream worth fighting for."

I don't think she even needs to say anything about being pregnant, but she could go on with something like "I'm expecting. A girl, I think. I know. And I would love if she could grow in a safe city. I'm so scared she'll have to live the way I did, growing up.'

And Vander smiles sadly and tells her, 'We've gotten this far, and we're not going back. We'll make Zaun safe for your kiddo, I promise you that.'

And that's it.

Vander knows OF Felicia. She is a community member. He knows her enough, maybe from Lanes meetings, that eventually he can recognise her children. But they're not friends, and SILCO definitely isn't friends.

And the disagreement after the bridge is fully about where to go from then on, and Vander deciding he wants to run the Lanes and keep them safe, that what they have now is good enough, while Silco wants "more".

That disagreement can turn nasty, and the fact Vander tried to drown Silco becomes a statement about how violent and temperamental he is as "The Hound of the Underground". Something he'll regret soon enough and spend the next few years working hard to try and change.

What do you think?

[nightingalescall]

God's Perfect Lamb

Kingdom of Ebreau:

Prologue(you are here)|part 1|part 2|part 3

"OH MY GOD!!!!!"

You screamed as you free fell from the sky. The wind whistled pass you, whipping your hair and slapping your cheeks until they stung. You flailed about, thrashing your arms and legs in the air, desperately hoping to slow your descend into inevitable doom.

This day could not get any weirder. You thought the day when you got transmigrated into this world took first place in that department but fate took that as a challenge and proceeded to completely and utterly prove you wrong. The day you got here, at least you were safely lying in an open field on the outskirts of the city, unlike now where you were falling to your death from the sky.

You had endured a great amount of hardship during your stay in this world. You know all those stories about someone getting transmigrated into a parallel world as a noble or wealthy merchant or maybe even a royal? Well, you didn't get that privilege. You weren't placed into the body of a princess, a duchess, a countess or.....anybody, to be honest. You were just you. Plain old (y/n). So the idea living a life of luxury and comfort was thrown straight out the window at that revelation. You had nothing with you. No money, no property, no status. You had to start from the ground up if you have wanted to survive in this new world.

But that wasn't the biggest problem. By "nothing", that includes having no form of identification. You're not sure if it's just a subject of it never being brought up in those novels or if identification just wasn't a thing in those world, but in this one, it was a serious issue.

Having neither a place to stay nor enough money to buy one, you were forced onto the streets until you had the finances to own one. So it wasn't unexpected when the authorities took notice of you and brought you to their headquarters to give you necessary aid. It was all going well until they found out they had absolutely no record on you in their database. That's when they became hostile and grilled you to no end.

You couldn't just say you were from another universe and you had no information to based any lies on so many of their question were met with a silent stare or a soft "um".

In the end, they decided to label you a person of interest and should be kept under surveillance since they had no dirt on you to convict or pardon any crimes you may have potentially committed (even though you didn't). You were both relieved and surprised at the conclusion they came to since even you, yourself were convinced they were going to throw you in jail.

With no charges pressed on you, you were free to go. But where though? You were still homeless, jobless and penniless. Pitying you, they ended up giving you the help they initially planned on giving. They gave you a job.

And that's how you ended up as their errand girl. Any trivial or simple matters such as relaying messages to guards, sending documents to scribes and then retrieving them, delivering packages to and from the headquarters etc etc. It was an easy job so the low pay wasn't a surprise. It was barely enough for the small house you rented a few blocks away from headquarters. However, you were given food and allowed to eat with the guards at headquarters everyday as long as you remained their errand girl so that saves you the money and worry of getting enough to eat. It was a win-win situation for both parties. You get a job and the guards can always keep on eye on you. Thus, even with little to no money to your name, you settled into your new life in this world.

It's been more than a year since your transmigration and to be honest..... You were sick of this place. Remember the aforementioned win-win situation? Yeah, that was only in the beginning. As time went on and your suspicion has pretty much been cleared up, you were still stuck with doing this minimum wage job (if that was even a concept in this world). Just because you were getting by with this job doesn't mean you were happy with it. You only had enough for daily necessities. It's already been a long time since you've arrived here and you had not once enjoyed any type of indulgence in that time gap. Just work, work, work. Those damned guards keep saying you still need to be under surveillance but you knew well that they were just trying to keep you around to do their bidding. Honestly, what kind of guard lets a potential fugitive into their room to get something for them? You knew they trusted you. That's why they wanted you to stay as their little helper.

So here you are now. In the middle of the night, on your way back to headquarters after helping deliver a package to the biggest temple in the country, the Temple of Sonnet. This world, or at least Ebreau in particular, was a country of strong faith. They are a religious country where every citizen worshiped Calerus. Though his title may vary from person to person, it’s always some form of wealth and gold so most people call him the God of Prosperity.

With religion being such as important part of the kingdom, it wasn't surprising when you found out the temple worked in close relation with the imperial palace. The Royal family of Ebreau collaborated with the Temple of Sonnet in both political and cultural aspect. Organising nationwide celebrations, meeting with diplomats from afar, anything that are related to the affairs of the country, chances are both parties are involved. Basically, you mess with the temple, you mess with the Royal family. So definitely not someplace you like hanging about at, lest you want to accidentally offend someone and get a ticket straight to getting-your-head-chopped-off town.

The cold breeze of the night sent shivers down your spine as it blew into your thin clothing. You rubbed your hands together, desperately trying to warm them up but to no avail. You scurried through the courtyard quickly, making your way back to the entrance of the temple. It was relatively silent, saved for your footsteps and the distant sound of flowing water from a fountain somewhere.

Thankfully, the walk was a short one. Reaching the opened gate of the entrance, you walked past the two statues of Calerus at each side of the gate and out back onto the familiar cobble walkway. You snuck a few glances at the white statues of the god of this kingdom as you passed by.

Even in the dim moonlight, you could see the white marble eyes of the statue staring down at you, its mouth curved downward as both hands were outstretched to the side with white round discs made to look like gold coins pouring out of its hands and onto the base of the statue.

This was how the people of Ebreau depicted their God. Sharp eyes casted downwards, overseeing and observing their every move, his hands overflowing with gold, symbolising his absolute authority over the wealth in the land.

You stood, staring at the statue as you were reminded of the saying of the people.

Calerus, the prosperous.

Calerus, the strategist.

Calerus, the omnipresent.

Calerus, the all knowing.

Calerus, the god of Ebreau.

"All is within his hand. Follow his plan and golden rain shall pour at your journey's end."

...

"Tch."

You clicked your tongue as you turned away abruptly from the statue and continued on your way back. A look of disdain plastered on your face as you marched off from the temple.

The more you thought about how worshiped Calerus was and how many praises the people sang for him, the more angry you got. You weren't jealous. No, you weren't some narcissist with a god complex who wanted this sort of treatment. Of course not. What you were pissed about was how Ebreauans talk about how everything in life was Calerus' work. His plan, so to speak that allowed you to prosper and succeed. They claim that all challenges are obstacles on a path towards prosperity that Calerus has specifically chosen for someone.

"Everything has a purpose and meaning."

Well, personally, you though it was pretty nonsense.

If this god of theirs was so smart and crafty, if everything truly happened according to his plan then why the heck were you here? Why were you here in this fantasty world? What purpose did He bring you here for? And why has that "purpose" not shown itself even after you've been thrown here for almost 2 years?!?!

In your mind, Calerus is nothing but a liar and a fraud. Where's the prosperity He promised? What did He have planned? Did He even have anything planned??

You were angry and with good reasons. The people you've met here have been telling you that Calerus has something planned for you even if you're not from Ebreau since day one. They assured you that He will look over you, even if you're not a follower. Yet, you've been met with nothing but problems and hardships during your stay here. And worse, you don't see it ever becoming better.

"What a scam."

You mumbled under your breath and scoffed.

"Ugh..Huh?"

You groaned softly as you suddenly felt lightheaded. You legs got weak and you began to wobble, stumbling forward a few steps. You pressed your hand to you head, applying pressure to both of your temples. Nausea seizes your body as you gagged.

"Huhg..!"

The world spun around you and the ground below your feet felt like it disappeared as you lost your footing. You fell forward and braced for impact.

But it never came.

...?

You slowly regain control as the short-lived dizziness subsides. The disorientation passes and you now realised the odd position you're in. You're...Floating? Your face was hovering several inches away from the ground despite your hands not supporting your upper body. And when did the streets of Ebreau get so....White and fluffy? In fact, they looked like cloud-

"Heretic."

A deep voice suddenly rumbled in your ears and your head shot up. A man with shoulder length grey hair stood before you, his golden eyes piercing into your soul as he spoke with authority. He donned black robes that exposed only his left arm and part of his chest. Golden streaks also lined themselves along the right sleeves and tails of the robe. He seemed.... Ethereal. Godly even.

Wait....Godly?

"C-calerus?”

You stuttered in fear and disbelief.

“One did not expect to be recognised by thou so quickly. Peculiar for a non believer."

Calerus suddenly lifted his right hand and flicked two of his fingers upwards. That's when you felt a force tugged you up from behind and you hung in midair in front of the god.

"Uwah!" You yelped at the sudden yank. Before you could even recompose yourself, Calerus continued speaking again.

"And to not posses any ounce of humility. Calling one by mine name. Who does thou think thou art?"

You felt a force wrap itself around your neck before squeezing. You gasped and grasped at the invisible force, desperate for it to let go or at least loosen. You choked.

"cough! Stop! P-cough!"

You pleaded as you gasped for air.

"Why would one do that?"

You continued to cough as the force squeezed tighter. You were gonna die. Oh god, you were gonna die. In panic, you blurted out whatever came to mind.

"Because, cough, you still, gasp, owe me!!"

The grip around your neck disappeared and you fell onto the soft ground (if it even was ground). You gasped and coughed. Your lungs greedily sucking in air now that your airways were opened again. That relief was short-lived however as the next moment, you felt a hand grabbed onto your jaw and forced your gaze up.

Calerus stared coldly into your eyes as he spoke.

"Elaborate."

You panicked. You just said that on a whim. Surely, you weren't actually going to ask for compensation from a god....right? There was no way you were going to pull though with what you just said.

The fire inside Calerus' golden eyes told you to do so otherwise, though. You swallowed before slowly speaking.

"You....You brought me here. Why? Why separate me from my family? Why separate me from my friends?"

Calerus raised an eyebrow.

"Bring thou here? To punish thee, of course. Thou spoke ill of mine name."

You shook your head.

"No. I meant, bring me to this world. To Ebreau. What reason do you have?"

Calerus fell silent. He seemed to be lost in thought. You waited agonisingly long before he spoke.

"So it is thou. Thou art the otherworldly traveler, yes?"

Otherworldly? Yes. Traveler? No. Kidnapping victim would be more accurate. Though, you simply nod at his question. It was close enough, you suppose.

He released you jaw and backed away. His gaze blank and devoid of emotion as he raised his hand again. You felt a soft tug this time and you were gently helped up onto your feet.

?

It..Worked?

Calerus sighed before saying,"It would indeed seem one has forgotten about thy needs after thou came to mine kingdom."

Your eyes widen in surprise at his confession

"One will give thee the compensation thou deserves."

"Wait, really?" You couldn't hold back your astonishment.

Calerus stayed quiet as you asked and you felt cold sweat rolled down your face, thinking your question may have angered him.

His gaze went down onto the ground for a brief moment before flicking back up to you.

"Yes. However, know that one was not the being that brought thee to this land."

You tilted your head. "You're not?"

"No. One merely accepted thy visit to mine kingdom."

"Then...Who did?" You asked, the words rolling off your tongue slowly

"Mine....Equal. A ruler of another land far from mine."

Your head was spinning from this revelation. Some other god brought you here? Why? And why let you stay under another god's rule? Before you could ask, Calerus had began to speak again.

"One is not enlightened with the reason why thou has been brought here but one admits fault for neglecting thee after accepting thee as one's own. As such..."

Calerus stepped forward, his steps firm and steady. He raised his right hand to his mouth before biting his index finger. A small wound appeared on his skin and you saw golden blood begin to seep out from the opening. He stretched out his right arm as he made his way towards you.

"W-what are you doing?" You fumbled over your words as you backed away in horror, clutching your hands over your chest.

But Calerus was faster.

In the blink of an eye, he was already in front of you, finger pressing on your forehead. You felt the warm liquid dripping down your forehead as your eyes opened wide in fear, terrified at what he was going to do to you.

He began to chant.

"Might of the northern spirit, wisdom of the southern dragon, divinity of the elements of the east and west, hear one."

You wanted to pull away from his hand but be it fear or some other unknown force, you couldn't as you stayed rooted in place, breathing heavily from anxiety. If the god before you noticed your petrified state, he surely paid it no mind as he continued.

"Let the earth know that the power of gold shall have a vessel to call its own. Let the people rejoice for a vassal of Calerus, the Prosperous Lord shall walk among them. May the world celebrate the birth of mine lamb."

His finger left your forehead for a split second before it came back, colliding with your forehead as he flicked his finger against it. A surge of power shot into your head from his fingertip and spread throughout your body. The sheer magnitude of the force made you almost black out as your vision clouded with dark spots. As if you also suddenly got punched, you were propelled backwards, stumbling and struggling to catch yourself.

You felt yourself stepping on air and lost your balance, falling backwards. The ground(clouds?) had disappeared behind you, opening a small hole that let you fall through. You reached out your hand in a desperate attempt to hold onto something but to no avail.

You fell. Down and down until you could see that the "ground" you were standing on was indeed clouds in the sky. The sky. Calerus peeked his head over the edge, observing you as you fell with the same stoic look on his face. Just before he went out of hearing range, you heard him speak.

"One will be in touch."

He disappeared from view.

Now, back to the present, you were falling to your death, screaming and crying as you begged Calerus for mercy. Where's the compensation?! Was everything just now a trick?! Did you get scammed again?!

Tears rolled out of your eyes and flew into the air as you cried in fear, leaving behind trails of water droplets following your descend.

You sobbed as realisation kicked in that nobody was going to save you, as hopelessness consumed you to the point of not being able to think anymore.

The ground got closer and closer as the seconds ticked by. You closed your eyes which were still overflowing with tears, submitting to your faith and praying the impact will immediately kill you so you won't have to suffer in pain.

Goodbye.

"Ugh!"

You groaned as the impact came. Your back collided with the ground and you were....OK? You were in some pain but nothing too bad. In fact, the pain was already passing now.

Slowly, you opened your eyes and blinked away the tears still trapped inside. It was daytime already. How much time has passed? You looked around and saw petals of different hues falling down before landing on the dirt beside you. Above you, a tree with yellow leaves swayed gently, its branches lightly bouncing up and down while its yellow leaves, detached from their place on the branch, fell softly down and landed on your face. It seemed you fell through the tree just now. That would explain the tears on the hem of your sleeves.

Aurum trees?

Propping yourself up into a sitting position, you stared up as you wondered. While not rare or particularly hard to care for, aurum trees are only planted within temples of Ebreau due its yellow leaves. They are the only type of trees in Ebreau that grew leaves of that shade of yellow. A yellow similar to gold while not being being fully golden coloured. The colour yellow symbolises wealth in Ebreau and thus, indirectly their god, Calerus. They are a symbol of the divine hence why aurum trees are only grown in temples.

Then, that raises the question. Why were you at a temple?

You lowered your gaze from the tree and you nearly gasped from the scene in front of you. You were sitting in the middle of a flowerbed that consisted of various types of flowers with different hues for each one. Not far from you, rows of nuns and monks knelt in an orderly matter, faces all shocked and astonished. Some had their hands clasped together while some were covering their, what you assume to be, gaping mouths. Hushed whispers erupted as they stared and observed you. You even made eye contact with some of the nuns and monks in which all turned away immediately with flushed cheeks.

What's going on? Did you intrude on something? Oh no....

Before your thoughts could spiral any further, a tall shadow suddenly loomed over you. Your head snapped upwards as you met eyes with the figure, a man dressed in white robes with golden embellishments around the collar and hem of the sleeves. His eyes were purple, like amethysts. Under the sunlight, his long blonde hair seemed glossy, shiny even as it draped over his shoulders while he towered over you. Despite his intimidating stance, a soft smile was present on his face as the tails of his eyes curved upwards slightly, giving the impression of a kind and good hearted soul.

The man knelt down, his sleeves fluttering gently due to the breeze. That's when you got a better look at his face. He looked familiar...

It wasn't until that soft and silky voice of his poured out of his mouth when you realised who he was.

"Hello, Messiah. We've been expecting your arrival." He placed his hand on his chest and bowed his head at you. "I am Saint Zephyr Venrose. Representing the temple of Sonnet, the esteemed imperial family and the whole of Ebreau, I humbly welcome you." He lifted his head and smiled. Your breath got caught in your throat as he confirmed your suspicions.

Zephyr Venrose. One of the few saints in all of Ebreau and head of the temple of Sonnet. Closely associated with the royals of the kingdom and is a man of power within the boarders of Ebreau. He often gives speeches given his position as head of the biggest temple in the country during festive events. That's where you've heard his voice the couple of times you were passing by or, if you were in a good mood, listening to him talk. You've never been able to get a good look at his face since you were always pushed back by the crowd so you didn't recognise him at first glance. However, now with his face inches away from yours, you could see every last detail of his features and you must admit, you understood why the folks liked him so much.

Zephyr must surely be blessed in his appearance.

You froze in place as you stared in surprise at him, wondering why he was talking to you and processing his words.

Did he just call you Messiah?

Zephyr noticed your silence and your staring. He adverted his eyes as his gaze dropped down towards the ground while he smiled to himself.

?

You tilted your head to the side in confusion at the sight.

Zephyr coughed lightly before his arms reached towards you. You gasped as he suddenly picked you up bridal style from the flowerbed. Not used to being held like this, you gripped onto his robe for support. Your face contorted in worry and anxiety as you looked at the ground, afraid of being dropped.

Zephyr, of course, took notice of your panic and in response, tightened his grip on you, pulling you closer to him. As you felt his fingers pressing into your skin more tightly, you looked up at him, surprised he realised your concerns so quickly.

He smiled warmly at you as he leaned down, closing the gap between your faces even more. His blonde hair brushing and tickling your face as he whispered into your ear. "Don't be afraid, Miss Messiah. I will never let you fall." His hot breath hit your earlobe and you felt your heart skipped a beat. He pulled away before walking with you in his arms towards the rows of nuns and monks.

"Rejoice, my brothers and sisters for our Savior has come. Our God has delivered us our salvation. May glory be with his name for all eternity."

Zephyr announced loudly and his words were met with echoes of response from the other devotees.

"May he reign supreme!"

Your head felt like it was going to explode with all this information. Was this....Was this the compensation Calerus meant? To be his hands and eyes as you walk along the common folks? To be loved and praised like how he is? To be worshiped? You felt dizzy from being bombarded by this revelation.

You looked back up at Zephyr, hoping he could shed some more light on this predicament you found yourself in. However, you swallowed your words the moment you looked into his purple irises.

Zephyr was known for his gentle and endearing nature. Some say he's the embodiment of kindness. He's the type of person people can't help but be drawn towards due to the sense of security he gives and the tranquil aura he possesses. That was your initial impression of him too.

But looking at him now, you wondered if you were wrong.

With the closeness between you two, you could see the the subtle shade of pink on his cheeks and the flushing redness at the tip of his ears. His breathing fanned your face and you noticed how quick and shallow his breaths were. His fingers went from pressing firmly into your skin to digging themselves into your thighs and waist. Then, if you looked hard enough, you could see him swallowing occasionally.

And last but not least, you couldn't help but notice his eyes that had always been filled with warmth and tenderness seemed....

Crazed.

~✟~

A prologue/world building chapter for my future yandere stories taking place in this universe. If you spot any mistakes, please do point them out so I can correct them and give everyone the best reading experience! Especially with Calerus' old English(?) part, I'm still not sure when to use thee and when to use thou. I only did some basic research on Google.(T_T)

[copperbadge]

Man plans, G-d laughs, as they say.

I woke up this morning to a resounding crash; I thought it must have come from next door or even from a car hitting something in the street below, but I only knew where one cat was, so I got up just to be sure. Figured I'd get a snack while I was up so I headed towards the kitchen...

I'll add image ID later but suffice to say there is some wreckage. A shelf I hung in the kitchen years ago, and which I haven't touched since, fell from about eight feet up. I'm not even sure why since the mounts and the shelf are all sound, but it dropped a couple of ceramic mugs onto a kitchen hutch where there was a glass candle holder, which shattered spectacularly. This morning's work turned out to be cleaning the kitchen floor.

I'll be wearing hard soled slippers in the kitchen for a while. At least it only knocked over my havdalah box and didn't break it. The glass candle holder wasn't anything special anyway.

Everything is ok; the cats are fine, I've swept and vacuumed the floor extensively, and while I'm sad to lose some stuff, it's just stuff. An hour later and I would have been in the kitchen when it fell, which would have been worse. At night the cats eat their dinner on that orange rug, so it could have been much worse.

If you've never broken glass or ceramics in your home, here are some guidelines:

1. Put on shoes immediately. The worst way to find broken glass is with your bare feet. And you will, because broken glass goes everywhere.

2. Sweep everywhere. I found glass and ceramic all over the kitchen floor, including where it should not have been. After sweeping, the vacuum found more.

3. Don't trust plastic trash bags. Put the sweepings in a paper bag or cardboard box.

4. Wear shoes for a few days. Even after sweeping and vacuuming I'm finding shards.

Fortunately we are all fine, so while safety is paramount, no real harm has been done. I'm gonna take the day, though. I'm a bit shaky and so are the cats. They're clinging and yelling for cuddles. I'm very glad that if it had to fall, it fell when and where it did.

[zara-renata]

So I had one holiday prompt that I couldn't include in the big holiday prompt fic I posted last week, and I also have been receiving some really sweet and cute ideas that weren't exactly requests, but the ideas were so nice that I wanted to write something for them. I've gathered them into one story that I hope isn't disappointing. I had intended to do separate, cute little drabbles, but I had a bad day the other day and somehow uh, really dark angst happened, and then I used the ideas people sent for the comfort half of the fic? So please forgive me for just... taking it as dark as you can go before including the sweet, cute ideas that people requested. I hope you like the result anyway, although please read the content warnings. Several of the people who sent requests/ideas apologized for doing so, as if sending the ideas was 'too much', but you don't have to apologize for sending asks. My requests are open, and I like seeing everyone's ideas even if I don't end up being able to write for them, or if I tweak them a little to make them work for the story that comes out of my brain despite my best laid plans to stick to an outline.

The river | ao3 | masterlist

It's Christmas Eve, you're at the end of your rope after an absolutely awful year, and you decide to end it all after pushing everyone in your life away. Sylus pulls you from the brink and convinces you to keep going.

Sylus x fem reader, Sylus x mc, hurt/comfort, angst, grief, banter, fluff. CW: attempted suicide, depressed thoughts, NSFW, Sylus penetrating reader (this is not sex ed, do not follow these idiots' example, no discussion of condom or birth control, this is fantasy and we're not going to worry about that in the fic)

Ask #1 You asked to keep sending silly little ideas for you to write so I thought I'd give my own request! After Caleb and Gran (supposedly) die it's pretty much canon that MC refuses help from their friends and isolates themself in certain ways. I always imagine MC sometimes sees Sylus as "the only one they have left" since he is the only one who goes out of his way to check up on MC. But MC kinda grows to resent this and has a moment when their drunk/really going through it and basically ask Sylus why he doesn't leave them be so they can just rot away in peace. Sorry if this is too lengthy or I'm overstepping! Brain worms are getting to me

Ask #2 Okay, so random thoughts here, but do you know that superstition that’s like, “the places where you have moles on your body show where your lover kissed you in a past life”? But like… can you imagine what it would be like if MC had a mole in the exact spot where Sylus bit her during Abyssal Mark (cus I have one there lol) and then that superstition randomly gets brought up, only for MC to show him that mole and Sylus is just s h o o k??? N e way that’s my random thoughts lol (sorry if this is a lot 💀)

Ask #3 I love the way you write the MC and I find myself relating to them at least 99% of the time. Sometimes I just imagine them giving Sylus one of those "Do you like me? Circle yes or no!" Love letters to Sylus because they are terrified of rejection -> i wrote the MC in this story really, really depressed, so if this didn't hit the spot for you in terms of fear of rejection, let me know, and I can include your prompt in another story idea I had before this one that's a lot lighter and sweeter before I got hit by the angst truck that this fic turned out to be. just let me know!

Ask #4 the last holiday prompt! -> idk if anyone sent it yet but from the xmas prompt list, i would love to see what you do with number 8 -> I'm so sorry that this is what I did with it, I hope you like it anyway😭

Thank you everyone who has sent me ideas! If you've sent me a request and I haven't answered it yet, it's because I'm still intending to do something with it.

Here you are. Again.

At the end of a long day. A long week. A long year. 

A long rope.

It’s the dark, this time of year. 

Maybe. 

You’re restless. You’ve passed through the Deepspace Hunters Association doors for the last time this year. Empty days of leave stretch before you.

Normally, it would still be light out, leaving this early. But not now, this deep into the year—it’s already full night, as you leave work early.

The bright lights of the building pour over your upturned face as you look back, just once. You don’t know what for. You’ve successfully severed most of the ties you had built before.

Before everything.

Tara, Xavier. After Caleb, Josephine—they reached out, over and over, and you bit their outstretched hands with your sharp, sharp teeth. 

You snapped enough times that they keep their distance, now. 

They’re still kind. 

Tara still comes, sits on your desk, shares tidbits of gossip during the workday. But she no longer invites you along to karaoke, to after-work drinks with other coworkers.

You and Xav work in sync, as you eliminate wanderers. He walks you to your door at the end of the day. But he no longer offers to lend you books. No longer invites you to the bookstore, or to try new restaurants.

You watch his broad back as he walks away from you, down your apartment building’s hallway. He feels as far away as a star in the velvet night sky.

It’s not their fault. You did this.

You wanted this.

You turn away from the warm light beaming from the Association as you leave early, the Christmas lights glittering in the windows, the holiday party you’re skipping still in full swing in the open, sleek company restaurant area on the ground floor. A division-wide shindig, to celebrate the end of the year, the holidays.

The night is cold. Fairy lights, nets of bright pinpricks in the dark night, cover the trees lining the sidewalk. Decorative light displays stretch across the busy road at periodic intervals, over the canals that parallel the streets, the gondolas and tour-boats festive under their own lights, red ribbons flapping in the cold winter wind.

You think about how they never recovered a body.

Only Josephine’s ashes fill an urn, sitting in a cold niche of a quiet columbarium. Caleb’s urn is empty.

You start walking, fast, along the busy sidewalk. People are out shopping, scurrying to tie up last minute errands before the city shuts down for the holiday tomorrow.

You want to unzip your coat. Unzip your uniform. Unzip your skin, your ribcage. Leave all these pieces of yourself behind, for others to puzzle over. To sweep up with the rest of the refuse left over from festive party goers on the street. You want to dissipate in the cold winter air like your breath with each cursed inhale, exhale.

You settle for beginning to jog to the metro station, your feet carrying you faster, faster, your boots heavy on the sidewalk. You see it lit in the distance, but you can’t stand the thought of being underground right now. Buried alive, with all the other people. You sprint past it. 

You’re graceful enough to duck and weave, not disturb anyone else, until the crowds thin.

You’re running, running, the city is streaming past, like the tears from your eyes. Wet from the cold, because you haven’t cried since waking up, your ears deafening, Caleb’s silver chain glittering in the firelight on the walk up to your grandmother’s burning house.

Tears won’t bring a body back.

You don’t know how much longer you can stand this.

The days, one after another. Alarm, moving through the dark to get to work. Moving through the dark to get back to your apartment at the end of the day.

The pain—your only constant, now. The only thing you expect, have to look forward to, day after blurred day. 

An echoing emptiness, like an urn without ashes. An emptiness that feels so full that your skin could burst with it.

You think about your apartment. The festive city outside its windows. The half-opened bottle of wine in the fridge, the only thing in it.

You veer from your neighborhood. Keep running. You’re sweating under your winter coat, your heavy Hunter uniform. It doesn’t matter.

You run, and run, and run, until you run out of streets, sidewalk.

Just the river, wide and black. There is a bridge, soaring over the water, in the distance. Its lights reflected in the water, along with the urban nightscape. Stars above, stars below.

You could drown in them.

You look at the bridge.

You could drown in it all.

There’s no one left, after all.

Who will miss you?

You slow. Stop.

Your breath is heavy in the quiet air. Fairy lights sparkle here, too. Pretty swooping light displays top each lamppost along the river path. 

You would have gone to identify the body, as you did with Gran. She didn’t look like herself. Not even a sleeping version of herself. They did their best, reconstructing her face. But it wasn’t the stitches, the bruising. It was that she simply wasn’t there anymore. Like a stranger’s body on display. An empty house after the residents have been forced to flee in a night of unimaginable violence. 

But running your hands through her hair, one last time. It soothed something in you. Enough that you could breathe in the cold mortuary air. Could nod. Could watch as they covered her again. As they escorted you out into the bustling hospital hallways, to stand under cold fluorescent lights. To stare vacantly at the wall, until you felt a strange, familiar feeling. You looked up, saw Zayne watching you, at the end of the long hallway. You stared at him, memorizing his beautiful face. His dark hair. His severe, cold loveliness. You let yourself look one last time, and he let you. Through the people filling the hallway, each walking with purpose, they were a blur and he was  across the world, across time, a part of your past that should never have reappeared in your present. It hurt too much, to look at his beautiful, distant face. He left you behind, once. He should have stayed gone. You can’t stand to experience the loss again, the loss you felt every time he listened to your heart, expressionless, a stranger with a beautiful, familiar face from your past, a past in which Caleb was still alive. 

You looked at Zayne one last time, across a bustling hallway in a place full of life, of death, and he let you. You then turned, headed to the reception desk. You switched doctors, hospitals.

You blocked his number, so you’ll never know if he sent you a text, tried to call and ask why, after. He let you walk out. Which is as it should be.

You wanted this.

The water churns under the whipping wind, the fast current. It looks so cold. Cold enough to numb. Cold enough to finally put out the fire that’s been burning in you, ever since you woke up, your ears deafening, Caleb’s necklace shimmering in the flames.

You think of running your hands through his hair. Something the fire robbed you of—it would have been your first time, your last time. He would pat your head. Call you pipsqueak. Ignore your protests to not mess up your hair, to not treat you like a little kid. But he would always duck out of the way anytime you tried to return the favor, tease him, tousle his hair. His pretty brunette hair that always looked so soft. Now you’ll never know how soft it really was.

You look at the water. You look at the bridge. The car headlights meteors streaking along their guardrail-gated orbit.

You think about going home. Waking up tomorrow, Christmas Day. The silence. You think about going back to work. Killing wanderer after wanderer. Wondering which one will be the one to finally kill you.

The days blur. The constant emptiness echoing inside your apartment, inside your ribcage.

You look at the water. You look at the bridge. You imagine running your hands through Caleb’s hair for the first, the last time. A tender goodbye you’ll never have, because they never found his body.

There’s no one left to miss you.

Your phone vibrates in your pocket. You fish it out.

Rafayel no longer calls, or texts you words. He just sends photos, every once in a while. Mundane details of everyday life, rendered extraordinary through his artist’s eye. Paintings he’s working on. A foreign landscape. Leaves glistening with dew. The moon, waxing full.

You haven’t answered in months. You look at each one, tuck your phone back in your pocket.

You look back at the water. Think about taking a photo of the reflected stars, the thin crescent moon in the black waves, think of sending him one last response. But even you’re not that cruel. You don’t want him to realize later, that he was the last one to say anything to you.

You don’t open his text. You block his number. Tuck the phone back into your pocket.

You start to walk toward the bridge. As you walk, you keep your eyes on the path, its edges. Decorative, smooth stones line the walkway along the river embankment. You pick them up, here and there, as you walk. Slip them into your coat pockets.

Eventually you run out of room in your coat pockets, add more to your pants pockets. 

You turn your eyes back to the bridge, looming now.

You think of your empty fridge. Josephine’s empty face. An empty urn.

You’re ready to scoop out what’s left of you, leave it behind on the sidewalk, smoldering as the cold night finally smothers the endless fire, the only thing left inside you. Maybe it will warm someone else, in passing. A last good deed, from you to someone in the world.

A metal staircase, leading up, up, into the black sky, mirroring the dark river, your heavy boots echoing. The cars are loud. If you close your eyes, they could be the rushing waves of an ocean, instead of a river of traffic, above a river of water.

You keep your eyes open. You’re not going to pretend that you’re not doing what you’re doing, now. You’re not at the ocean, its pure salt air drifting through your hair, now whipping around your face. You’re on a busy, exhaust- and oil-stained commuter bridge on the night before Christmas, having cut your ties with everyone you have always known never wanted or needed you in the first place. What’s the difference if a wanderer kills you tomorrow, or if something kills you today? Just empty time, blurry days, photo frames without pictures.

The guardrail isn’t so high as one would guess. It’s an easy step up. An easy step over. You stand, looking back over the city where you were raised. The city that contains all the past versions of yourself, from the moment you were pulled screaming into life from a mother whose face you’ll never know, through to now, an empty shell of a person. If your fellow hunters could see inside you, they’d mistake you for a wanderer and put you down, like the scientists who experimented on you, your own grandmother, did years ago.

Since learning that Gran was one of the people who fucked with your heart, you have often resented that she and her colleagues weren’t successful in finishing the job years ago, when they had the chance.

But now you wonder, standing over a dark, freezing river that reflects what’s inside you now, maybe they did finish it. You just didn’t realize it. Not till tonight, as you look down in the mirror of the rushing water, far below.

Even now, the tears won’t come.

What use are tears, when they can’t bring a body back. When they can’t wash it clean. When they can’t lovingly touch it, one last time, soft strands of hair under your fingers.

Your tears, your heart, your suffering, your existence—useless, for the entirety of a life you can only half remember.

You wonder if it’s the dark, tonight. Why tonight, and not yesterday? Why not six months ago? 

Because it took that long to sever the ties binding you here?

Now you are assured, no one will miss you. It will take days before anyone even notices your absence because of your holiday leave.

You hope that they’ll assume it was a wanderer. Bad luck. Wrong time, wrong place. A modest little plaque on the wall of heroes, even though you know you’re no hero.

In the end, it doesn’t matter why it’s tonight, and not any other night.

No need to be dramatic, pretending there’s meaning in the meaningless.

You put your hands on the guardrail, the metal colder than your freezing hands. You lift a heavy booted foot. Take a deep breath. 

It’s so cold. It will be over before you know it. You’ve read that from this height, it’s the impact, and not the drowning.

You’ve always had dreams of flying. 

You lift your other foot, arms thrown wide for balance, just for a moment. The world feels so big, here at the end. The stars above, the stars below, the doubled crescent moon. You’re ready to drown in it all.

You only have one hope.

I don’t want to be reborn.

You breathe, empty your mind of Tara’s earnest smile, Xavier’s soft laughter, Zayne’s steady hands, Rafayel’s flashing violet eyes. Josephine’s empty face. Caleb’s soft, untouchable hair.

You let yourself fall.

You’re flying. Your heart is soaring. Your heart is seizing. The relief, the terror, mingle. You can’t scream, even if you wanted to.

You’re flying and it’s everything you ever dreamt, until it’s not.

Your body jerks, abruptly. Your hair whips down, lashes your face. You grunt with the impact against… nothing. You’re suspended over the water, drifting in the air. The wind tugs at your stone-weighted coat.

You twist away from the water, craning your neck to look up, up, back at the bridge.

You have withstood the uselessness of tears for almost a year now. But now, you want to cry so badly the pain of the need steals your breath.

You knew he was cruel. You knew he was merciless. You knew that he hated you. You just didn’t realize how much, until now.

You hang suspended over a dark, rushing river, wrapped in scarlet and ink tendrils, looking up into the sneering face of the one person you refused to think about as you made your final decision tonight, at the end of your desolate, half-remembered life.

His evol begins to lift you, away from the merciful impact, the numbing water. You, your past, your heart, the memories and despair and stones filling your pockets seem weightless, wrapped in his power.

His usual mask of bored indifference is gone. He is finally showing you his true face, what he must always feel when he looks at you—fury and disgust.

He says nothing, as he pulls you from the depths, back into the world. As he sets you gently back on your heavy feet on the sidewalk in front of him. His evol evaporates, winter breath in the wind.

He looks at your face with his wine-dark eyes. Looks at the water. Flicks his gaze back to your face.

You will not cry in front of this man. This man who hates you so much he won’t even let you seek the peace of death. Death, which has always been too good for you, but not for the people you loved the most.

You clench your jaw as the fire re-ignites in your chest. The flames you had tried so hard to scoop out, to leave behind.

You don’t want to feel this much anymore.

If you speak, you know you’ll cry. You can’t stand it.

Maybe, with enough repetition, he’ll get bored. He gets bored so easily, after all.

You turn, try to launch yourself over the guardrail again.

This time, it’s not his evol, but his arms that wrap around you, pull you back from the fall.

You struggle, throwing your elbows, kicking, throwing your head back, hoping to catch his perfect nose, break it under the hardness of your stupid, useless skull.

He says nothing, just holds you tighter, wraps one arm around your waist, the other over your chest, his big hand cradling the side of your face, pressing your head back into his own chest, as he hunches over you, an immovable wall of warmth. As you fight to break free of his hold, you are wrapped in his scent—cloves, gun oil. 

Sylus.

Eventually, you tire yourself out—despite all of your strength, it is no match for his. He holds you against himself easily, as you pant, lungs burning with the effort, the sweat warm once again under your Hunter’s uniform. You become aware of a whimpering, the keening of a wounded animal.

It’s coming from your throat. Your eyes burn. You go limp in his arms.

“That’s it,” he murmurs. A voice like warm liquor in your veins. You think he’ll let you go. You prepare, hoping you can get to the guardrail again. Maybe this time he won't be so fast. But instead of releasing you, getting away from you as fast as he can, the arm around your waist moves up, cradling your upper back. He scoops his other arm under your legs, holds you against himself like you’re a delicate princess, if you were anyone else. But because it’s you, he’s probably just holding you like a useless sack of shit that would be too annoying to drop. He begins to walk, his stride steady, brisk.

He looks down into your face. “I bought a dress for you. Silk. A design like stars over a flowing river. That’s the only river you’re allowed in tonight, kitten.”

You stare at him. His breath puffs white in the cold air. The face of disgusted fury is replaced by his usual bored mask.

Why is he doing this to you? He wanted to kill you, just a few months ago. Why not let you do the job for him?

He is the only person in your life who didn’t take the hint. Who kept showing up, after you made it clear that you didn’t want their presence anymore. That you couldn’t handle the ties, because ties become nooses, snapping your neck when the other person leaves you behind.

When he showed up where you were, in a ‘coincidental’ meeting on the street, on a jog, you would turn, move in the other direction. He would match your stride, doggedly pestering you with questions, asking you about your evening or weekend plans, telling you silly stories from the N109 Zone, Luke and Kieran’s latest antics. Sometimes he’d just walk in contemplative silence, thumbs hooked through his belt loops, or jog quietly next to you, never losing his breath, never complaining about the pace.

When you would routinely see him at various restaurants you were headed to in order to pick up takeout, you’d leave your food, immediately turning and hurrying away. When the same food was delivered to your door half an hour later, you’d refuse to answer, letting the confused and irritated delivery man leave. A half hour after that, the same man would be back, yell through the door that he had instructions to leave the food even if no one answered, and then he’d make good on his promise. You were faced with the choice of either letting the food go to waste, or eating it guiltily at your kitchen island.

No matter how many times you told the delivery person of the almost daily packages you received with no return address that you didn’t want to accept delivery, they would always insist that their instructions were to deliver regardless of recipient response. You were welcome to bin the items after receipt, but if you didn’t accept, the packages would just pile so high outside of your door that you couldn’t reach your apartment anymore.

You would accept, and then donate whatever exquisite item was inside to women’s shelters, children’s homes, university museums, soup kitchens, fundraiser auctions. No matter how clear it was that you wouldn’t accept anything from him, Sylus never stopped sending you gifts.

When you were sick, he’d show up personally, barge into your apartment when you were too tired to look at the doorbell camera before answering, a duffel bag gripped in his big hand filled with fever reducing medicine, homemade soup from his home chef, painkillers, hot water bottles, cooling pads, muscle pads, vitamins. He’d lounge on your couch, manspreading, insisting that he wouldn’t leave until he saw you swallow the pills and drink a gigantic glass of water.

He’d wait until you lay back down on your messy bed, until you fell asleep. He’d be gone when you woke again, but your apartment would be clean and your fridge and freezer would be stuffed full of healthy pre-prepared food.

You were half-convinced he was just buttering, fattening his prey before getting bored and mercifully ending its life.

Tonight, you are now fully convinced.

“Did your tongue freeze in your mouth?” he asks, descending the stairs you had just walked up, thinking it was your last time ascending them. “Do you need mouth-to-mouth to warm it up again?”

You scowl at him, at how appealing the idea of Sylus’s tongue in your mouth is, even now. You hate yourself, your traitorous body for being drawn to him, even now. “What’s the point of talking, when you never listen?” you grind out, your throat sore. You hadn’t realized how much your animal wailing had wrecked your throat. At least the tears are no longer so close to the surface that they’re threatening to spill.

“I listen to every word out of your beautiful mouth,” he counters serenely, with that same inexplicable kindness that makes your heart hurt. So at odds with how you know he must really feel about you. “I just listen to more than your mouth in order to hear what you’re really saying.”

“What?” You stare at his beautiful face, the way the lamplight illuminates its sharp features for a brief moment, before the night swallows it again as he moves between lampposts on his way… somewhere. Back the way you just came from.

He spares you a glance. “Your mouth says one thing, while the rest of you is screaming something else.”

You feel the blood draining from your face. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

One corner of his beautiful mouth lifts. “Don’t play dumb, kitten. You’re too smart for it to be convincing.”

You were just falling into the river. You were just about to be free. How did you get here again? In this man’s arms, his smug, roguish smile filling you with the unease of being seen. 

“I mean, it wouldn’t kill you to be a little more honest about the fact that you want people to fight for you, right?”

You begin to struggle again, shame lancing through you, making your body unbearable to be in. You know it’s weak, to have wanted so desperately that the people you were carving from your life would see what you were doing and stop you, place their hands over yours holding the cleaver, gently push it down, down, until it dropped from your grasp—how desperately you wanted them to step into your space, hold you tightly, just like this man who sees right through you is holding you now. You wanted Tara to keep inviting you out with your ridiculous colleagues, to sing your heart out at shitty karaoke clubs, to forcibly drag you to sleepovers and arcade nights. You wanted Xavier to push himself into your apartment, try to bake something horrible in your oven, sheepishly offer to go to the bakery with you instead when the fire alarm inevitably went off. You wanted Zayne to walk through the crowd to reach you at the other end of the hallway after you identified Josephine’s body, to ask to take your hand, to ask how you were doing, even though you knew you wouldn’t have been able to answer. You wanted Rafayel to keep inventing excuses for you to visit his studio, to keep insisting that he needed you to accompany him to expositions and fancy lunches as his bodyguard. 

But none of them did in the end, and that’s okay. You kept pushing them away, because your terror of their leaving was apparently bigger than your need for their presence in your life, and at least if they were already gone, as they inevitably would be, you’d finally be free. 

But the last person you would want to see this utterly humiliating need inside you, exposing you like this, is the one looking down at you right now with deceptively soft, all-seeing eyes.

You know the feeling, this need, of pulling away and pulling away and then being heartbroken when people finally let you is weak, and pathetic.

You may experience weak and pathetic feelings, but you’re not weak or pathetic. Not at your core. You were prepared to do what was necessary, to save yourself from the pain of your emptiness, the fire raging inside your chest. You weren’t asking anything of anyone. You were doing it all on your own. 

Not a burden. 

Never a fucking burden. 

You clench your teeth, buck in Sylus’s arms.

He just holds you tightly, a straightjacket for the insanity that you’re feeling, the insanity of this man, out of all the people in your life, stripping you of your masks, flaying you so that all of your most tender, shameful parts are exposed to both him and yourself.

“Stop that. You’re just going to tire yourself further, when I need you tonight.”

Of course. The quid pro quo. He helped you with the auction, the Aether Core. Now you owe him. He doesn’t give a fuck if you live or die—he just can’t let one of his assets destroy itself before it fulfills his purpose.

You go limp in his arms. Turn your head away from him.

He continues his train of thought. “No, it wouldn’t kill you to tell the truth to your friends, so you decided to take matters into your own hands, huh? Telling the people in your life that you actually need them wouldn’t kill you, so why bother, right, when you can just jump off of a fucking bridge?” His voice sounds like the night you met him. Controlled anger. Disgust. Accusation.

Then there’s something wrong with her.

You thought you had killed everything inside of you already. The yearning for human connection. The kindness of a friend. Family holding you in their arms. You thought you had scooped out most of it, even as some of it rekindled when he pulled you back from the fall.

But the way you’re hurting now, at the memory of his hate, the reminder that the people you love won’t fight for you even if it would be fighting against you, and that this man, for all of his false generosity, never cared for you from the beginning, that his gifts and his visits were all what you knew them to be, all along—a bored predator toying with its prey before using it and consuming it. 

You let your thoughts drift back to the bridge, push your pain away. Feed it to the fire. When he’s done with you, maybe you won’t even have to jump.

“Just shut up, Sylus. I’ll help you with your problem tonight. Just promise me you’ll toss me over yourself, when you’re done with me,” you tell the night, because you still can’t bring yourself to look at him.

He stops walking. The wind is so cold against your face. You wish he’d snap your neck, right now. You’re so fucking tired.

“Look at me.” His voice is low. Menacing.

You watch the water. Wonder how long it would take if you just walked out into it, without jumping. Just walk in with your stone-weighted coat and let the cold paralyze you, the current pull you under.

“Look at me, my heart,” he whispers. The change in his tone, his bizarre endearment, has you turning your head, looking up into his face. “That is one promise I can never make you.” He looks like he’s in pain. You don’t know why. He leans down, rests his forehead against yours, hunching his big shoulders, lifting your body in his arms so he can meet you. His breath is warm against your lips. “Please don’t talk to me like that.”

You want to snort. It’s rich, coming from him—the same man who is telling you not to tell him to shut up, after all the things he said to you as he starved you, strangled you.

“Please don’t tell me to kill you. To hurt you. That hurts me.”

You stare up into his face. See the sincerity in his eyes. The wind whips your hair. He wasn’t upset that you told him to shut up, but that you asked him to kill you? “What does it matter? Aren’t you going to, in the end?”

“Why would I stop you tonight, if I wanted you to die?”

Of course he won’t answer outright. When has Sylus Qin ever answered a direct question?

“Yeah, that’s what I’m saying. Why bother stopping me, unless you just need to use me and then be done with me? I can’t be that irreplaceable. Just get someone else to put on the dress, and let me get on with my fucking life. Someone who you can train to say just the right things, at just the right time, who’ll look good in whatever fancy shit you want to put her in. There’s gotta be easier idiots than me to serve your purpose.”

He closes his eyes, breathes in the cold night air. When he opens them, you have to look away. You can’t handle whatever is in them. “I know I hurt you, when we first met. That I said cruel things to you. I’m sorry.”

You laugh, even as your heart wrenches at this strange apology. Of course he doesn’t explain what offended him so much about your existence at the beginning. Why he treated you exactly how you deserved. Probably just whatever he saw when he used his Aether Core on you. He saw the echoing chambers of your empty, fucked up heart and was enraged that it was you, and not someone worthy, who would absorb the Aether Core. “There’s never been any need to varnish the truth, Sylus. You almost choked me to death the day we met. You should have fucking finished what you started,” you sneer. “Why does no one ever finish what they start?” You think of Josephine, her researcher cronies. Think of Caleb, his promise to return, the last text he ever sent you. Your fucking parents, who you will never know.

You don’t expect an answer.

And yet, you’re surprised when Sylus wordlessly releases his hold on you. Lets you slip from his arms, sets you back on your feet. You settle in your heavy boots, the weight of your coat, the stones in your pockets, grounding you to the earth.

The lamplight shines in his silver-sheened, wind-tousled hair. His cheeks are red from the cold.

Of course. Of course.

No tool is irreplaceable.

You’re not irreplaceable.

You finally said the right thing, to push him away.

This is it. This is it. This is it. 

Your mind returns to the bridge. Your hand is holding the cleaver, dripping with the blood from the last unwelcome tether to your life.

You try to memorize his face, just as you did Zayne’s, but for some reason looking at Sylus’s face hurts you so much more despite having known him for so little time. Just a sigh, in the timeline of your life. The warm glow of his irises. The softness of his lower lip. The pride in his shoulders, his nose. 

Maybe you didn’t want to think of him before jumping because you had fallen in love with him, despite the fact that any affection he offered was counterfeit—the steady way he breathed next to you on a jog, the way he spread out on your couch, his dry humor, his intelligence, his piercing gaze, his kindness that was actually more cruel than if he had just tossed you out and never bothered to look for you again after the auction.

You knew it was fake. You knew it was calculated. You knew that the reality was, because he had told you from the very beginning—

Don’t tell me that you like me. Is this all so you can get my attention?

Clearly you’ve read too many fairytales.

And yet you had believed, in the bright moments of receiving his kind attention, in the fairytale. Just for a heartbeat. A raindrop, splattering on the ground.

You thought that you couldn’t bear to see what it looks like when Sylus finally tires of you pushing him away, and stops reaching out, as everyone else has. 

But with just a few words, you’ve finally managed to do it. He set the burden of you down, and now he’ll walk away, replace you with some other beautiful, breathing tool.

You learn in this moment that you actually can bear it. You can bear anything, as long as you know that very soon, you won’t have to bear anything at all.

“You wanted the truth?” you say, suddenly, the relief flooding through you that the worst has happened, that you’re now actually free. You think of the fabric of the dress, liquid stars over a night river, and wonder whose body it will caress, with Sylus’s big hand on her waist, his gentle fingers drifting across her collarbone, his forehead pressed against hers, for whatever ruse he needs to run tonight, on Christmas Eve.

He grows still. Watches you carefully, as if searching your face for a trick. You look back at him steadily, scooping everything inside you out, letting it splatter onto the sidewalk, here along this dark riverbank.

“Will you give it to me?” he finally asks.

“As a parting thank you gift, for cutting me loose.” You nod. Take a shuddering breath of the frigid air. “Here is me telling you the truth: you should treat the woman who ends up wearing the dress you got with more gentleness than you did me at the beginning. You could have the world eating out of the palm of your hand, if you skip the cruelty at the beginning and just treat people the way you treated me in the last few months. She’ll do anything for you, I think, if you do. Because somehow you made me love you, despite our beginning. I could bear to cut everyone else loose but you.” You laugh, and the sound is like icicles snapping, shattering on the ground. “Thank you for doing it for me, instead. It’s probably the kindest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

You smile at him. 

You don’t know why you’re surprised that he just frowns deeply, brow furrowing. 

Well. That’s okay. You never expected him to be pleased to see your face, smiling or not.

“Good luck, Sylus.”

You turn, begin to walk back the way you came, for the second time tonight. Your thoughts are already at the bridge. You’ve been falling for months now. Soon you’ll finally hit the crystal water and shatter. 

You hope you won’t be reborn.

“You said you love me.” His deep, low voice is carried by the wind.

You stop, turn your head. “Stupid, huh?” you ask, wondering if he wants to pour salt into the wound you just willingly exposed to him.

“Why would you love someone who treated you the way I did?”

You turn fully, face him across the night, one last time. “You’re so fucking funny. I’ve always appreciated men who can make me laugh.” You shrug. “And I’m a pathetic fool. You pretended to be kind, and I lapped it up like the thirsty dog I am.”

He tilts his head, takes a step towards you. “That’s all?”

You take a step back. You don’t need him and his pretty face, his delicious scent any closer to torment you.

You offer him more truth. “Of course not.”

“What else?”

You sigh. “What does it matter? We’ll never see each other again.”

He shakes his head. “Indulge me.”

So salt, it is. You press your fingers into the most tender part of yourself, peel yourself wide open. “Your cleverness. How sweet you can be when you want something—strangely pliant, for such a big, powerful man. The self confidence you have. I could say, do anything and you did so well pretending to never be embarrassed of me. You made me believe, very briefly, that you really wanted to be with me, do anything, go anywhere, just because I was there. It’s quite impressive, really. I can see why you’re so good at business. You’re competent. You’re beautiful to look at.” You pause, shake your head in turn. “But you already know all that. You know why you’re loveable. You made me feel cherished in a way that no one ever has, even as I was pushing you away. But honestly, those are just parts of you. They don’t fully cover what it is about you that makes my heart ache when I look at you. I love you because you’re you. Even hearing your name makes my heart race. Seeing your shoes in my foyer, because they were on your feet. The curve of your wrist, because it belongs to you. I know it’s pathetic, and stupid.” You shrug again. “Can’t help it, though.”

He stares at you. 

You prod him. “Is that enough?”

“How can you ask if that’s enough, when it’s everything?”

You look at him in confusion. “Huh?”

He takes a step towards you, frowning. “Are you only telling me all this because you think I’ve finally given up and allowed you to push me away, because I set you back on your feet?”

You take a step back, as he takes another step forward.“What do you mean ‘I think’ you’ve given up?” You squint at him.

“Did you only tell me all this because you’re going straight back to the bridge to try again?”

You take another step back at the intensity of his face, his question. “What does it matter? You don’t have to worry about what happens to me after this.”

He takes two steps. “You tell me you love everything about me, and then you plan to fuck off and leave me alone again?”

Okay, this was a mistake. You don’t know why he’s mad, but he’s mad again. “I’m sorry.”

You don’t know what else to say. You’ve been sorry your whole life. This is yet another miscalculation. You should have just left. What did you think would happen if you told him how you feel? That he’d be happy about your pathetic heart bleeding pitifully for him?

He strides over to you, his long legs outpacing your own. “If you’re sorry, don’t fucking do it.”

“What?”

He looks down into your face, so close you can smell him again, you can see the fine lines around his eyes as he frowns. “If you’re really sorry for loving me, for ever meeting me—which are the only things you have to be sorry for, then make it up to me by staying. Don’t leave me. Don’t push me away anymore. Just stay, and love me.”

You huff. “Are you really that desperate for help tonight?”

He lifts his hands, places his palms on your cheeks, his long fingers dipping into your hair. “No, I’m desperate for you tonight. It’s Christmas—I don’t give a shit about the holidays, but I know you do. I want to spend it with you. You made me watch you jump off of a goddamned bridge. What would have happened if I hadn’t already been on my way to you?” He sounds so upset. You’ve never seen him like this. The fear is naked on his lovely face.

“What the fuck are you talking about? What does it matter? You said you could get someone else for the dress, for tonight.” You’re so confused. Why is he acting like this?

“I didn’t say any of that. You suggested that I replace you with someone else, I set you on the ground to make sure you were looking at my face, that you were listening to my words when I told you that you’re irreplaceable. That no one else will do. That after watching you almost die, I can’t continue being cautious and trying not to frighten you away anymore.”

“You… what?” 

“You love me. Right? You weren’t lying?” he looks uncertain, like he can’t quite believe it.

You can’t bring yourself to lie. The truth is out. You’re witnessing the fallout. There’s no point in backpedaling. “Yeah.”

He nods, once, decisively. “Okay. That’s enough.”

You sigh in relief. Maybe he’ll let you go, finally, finally.

He checks his chunky watch, the platinum flashing in the lamplight. “There’s still time.”

“Time for what?”

“For my plans tonight. Come.” He closes the distance, sweeps you into his arms again, cradles your body against him like something fragile.

“What plans? Listen—” you start to argue.

“No. Now it’s my turn to speak, and for you to listen.” he squeezes you tightly. “Today was the last day you spend alone. If you can’t live for yourself, then you can live for me, until you remember why you want to live for yourself again. No matter what you say, or what you do to get rid of me, it’s not going to work.”

You can’t even process what is happening. “What are you—?” you begin, but he cuts you off again.

His voice is strained, rough. “You love me. So you have to take responsibility. You have to stay.”

You don’t know what to say. 

I’m desperate for you tonight.

You can’t believe this. He hates you. He has hated you from the beginning. He was so kind to you because he wanted to use you for something he never bothered explaining to you. He needs you for your resonance, your amplification of his powers.

You’re irreplaceable. No one else will do.

Because of your resonance?

I don’t give a shit about the holidays, but I know you do.

He carries you along the wind-swept riverbank, through the frigid night. Stars above, stars below.

You made me watch you jump off a goddamned bridge.

You didn’t think anyone was left to care.

You were so careful, severing ties like arteries, so that you wouldn’t leave the world with more pain than you found it. It was already bleeding so much.

You just were so tired of bleeding with it.

As if sensing the turn of your thoughts, Sylus carries you to the edge of the river’ embankment, where the concrete falls away, drops into the water.

He sets you down again, but doesn’t let you go. His big hands slide down the outside of your coat, dip into your pockets.

He pulls out a smooth stone. Turns it in his hands.

“I’ll never understand how someone so light can weigh so heavily in me,” he murmurs, almost to himself. “But you’re a weight I’ll carry for as long as you let me.”

His ember eyes flick back to yours. He hands you the stone.

“This is your conviction that the world won’t miss you, if you’re gone. You will hold it in your hand, one last time. And then you will throw it in the water.” He wraps your cold fingers around the stone. Somehow, his fingers are still warm.

You grasp it, look up into his face. You see yourself in them. It hurts, to be seen so clearly. You’re so ashamed. “How did you know?”

He closes his eyes, shakes his head a little. Opens them. “I looked into your soul, the day we met. I know you’re too soft-hearted in this life to kill yourself if you thought it would hurt someone else. You don’t carry that spite, anymore.”

In this life.

Anymore.

You can’t bring yourself to ask him what he means. You only know that once again, Sylus Qin has seen inside you, has seen you, in a way no one else ever has.

“But I don’t think anyone would miss me. I made sure of it.”

He huffs. “You’re a fool, if you actually believe that. The people you’ve pushed away still love you. But if you can’t believe that yet, then you can’t pretend to yourself that you’re disposable anymore, if for no other reason than I’m standing here now, telling you that I would miss you.”

You think of Tara, sitting on your desk, nudging a steaming latte she got for you on her way to work toward you, asking if you’ve heard the latest about Simone and Andrew.

You think of Xavier, walking you to your door at the end of a nasty wanderer encounter, reaching out, brushing a bit of mud off your cheek, then smearing it across his own cheek. See, we match now.

You think of Zayne, waiting across a busy hallway, patient, letting you choose to approach him, and respecting you by letting you walk away.

You think of Raf, the beauty he shares with you with every photo, the funny strings of emoji that don’t demand an answer.

“How do you know, that they would miss me?” you ask Sylus quietly.

“I’ve been watching you for a long time, sweetie. Do you think I haven’t seen your friends’ faces when you walk away from them?”

You clutch the stone in your hand. “I don’t think I can change my thoughts, my conviction, just like that.”

“You love me, so you have to try. Throw it. Every time you try to drag it back up, I’ll remind you that you threw it away, and you can let it stay at the bottom of the river.” He reaches up, caresses your cheek with his fingertips.

You want to cry. You want to cry, because you’re so afraid. If you let yourself believe that people love you, you have to stay, for them. You have to feel, every day, the weight of grief, of existence, the pain of being alive, of being inside yourself, your body. The hollowness will return, even with your friends, even with Sylus filling most of it.

It’s like he can read your thoughts as his eyes devour your face, as his fingers tuck a lock of hair behind your ear. “I won’t let you pretend, anymore. You love me, and I will not survive if you aren’t here with me. So you have to stay. We don’t have to accept that life is a curse. We can fight back. Make it something better.”

“I’m scared,” you say.

His eyes are so tender, as he watches your mouth form your biggest truth, set it free in the night. “I will protect you, until you can protect yourself again. There’s nothing to be afraid of, if we’re together.”

You want to believe him. Your heart beats painfully behind your ribs. The moon is a sharp crescent in the sky. 

But you’re a weight I’ll carry for as long as you let me.

“You’ll really stay?”

He finally smiles, a faint Sylus smile that feels like a grin. “I told you. Today was the last day you’ll ever be alone. You can’t get rid of me now, no matter what you do, or say.”

You turn, holding the stone in your cold hands. You think of all the lies you’ve been telling yourself, about your friends, your place in their lives, because you were so tired of living with an unnameable grief, one you carried inside you long before Caleb and Josephine died, but whose loss compounded, made unbearable the original sorrow.

And I will not survive if you aren’t here with me.

You don’t know why he feels this way. Does he love you too? He hasn’t said so. Can he even love you, in the way you love him?

Does it matter? 

It’s enough, that he says he’ll stay. That he wants you to stay alive. That he’ll help remind you, when the whispers drift back in your mind, telling you that you’re just a burden, that no one actually loves you, would miss you when you’re gone. When the hollowness echoes so loudly it’s all you can hear.

You lean back, lift the stone, throw it as hard as you can, as far as you can, into the rushing river.

You don’t hear its splash over the wind.

You turn back to Sylus.

He dips into your pocket again. Pulls out another stone. “Your guilt, for having lived. For having been born.”

You take it from him. Let your mind drift. Feel along the contours of your memories, the jagged, missing pieces, all the way back to when it fades to black. You throw the stone.

You don’t see it sink to the riverbed.

He dips into your pocket again. “Your shame, for needing others. For being human, and imperfect. For not being able to do it all alone. For wanting to be loved.”

You take the stone. “Is it really okay?” you ask, helplessly. There’s no point pretending everything he is saying isn’t true. “To want these things, when I haven’t earned them?”

He steps closer to you. Places his hands on your shoulders, draws you in. “There is no okay, or not okay. There is no crime and punishment, no transgression, no sin. How can it be shameful, to want what you were born to want? Why does love have to be earned, instead of just given?”

You lean into him, press your face into his chest, his thick wool coat soft against your skin.

“I don’t know.”

He reaches into your pocket, places a stone in your other hand. “One for your shame, one for the idea that love must be earned. Throw them.”

You lean back again, and it’s already too far away from him. But you throw each stone, and they disappear under the cold water.

“That’s enough, for now. We’ll take the rest home.” He draws you back into his arms. Lifts you without effort, stone-filled pockets and all. The weight of all of you.  “When you have thoughts of shame, of guilt, of not being loved, we’ll come back. You’ll throw them again. Until they’re all gone. We’ll gather other stones, when other feelings make life unbearable. I’ll come with you, as many times as you need.”

Sylus carries you along the path back to the road that snakes along the river. His motorcycle gleams under a bright lamppost.

He settles a helmet on your head, checks to make sure it’s secure. Puts his own on. You sit behind him, cling to him. Rest your head against his broad back, close your eyes. The motorcycle is loud, and he drives it carefully through the busy, holiday bustling streets, until he reaches your apartment building. He holds your hand as he leads you through the front doors, as he stands quietly beside you in the elevator, his red, warm eyes never leaving your face in the elevator mirrors. He leads you to your front door, waits patiently while you unlock it with your cold finger.

In the hallway, he kneels at your feet, unlaces your tall boots while you look down at him, the soft fall of his silver hair, his big, nimble fingers working the laces.

He then removes his own boots. His coat. He’s wearing a garishly bright Christmas sweater, with prancing reindeer. He hangs his coat on a peg in the wall. He turns, slowly unzips yours. Eyes flicking between the zipper and your face. He gently lifts it from your body, again like it’s weightless, even though it’s still filled with stones. He pulls it from your arms, hangs it next to his.

He pulls you further into your place.

The first thing you notice is the warmth. It’s so warm, like someone came in while you were gone and turned on the heating.

The next thing you notice is the Christmas tree. The one you didn’t get this year, because the thought of the holidays without Caleb and your grandmother was unbearable.

Beautifully, tastefully decorated. Silver and gold, twinkling lights. Its pine scent fills your place.

Sylus moves to a record player on one of the cabinets along your living room wall. A record player that wasn’t here before you went to work today. He fiddles with the arm, and suddenly Joni Mitchell’s River fills your house.

It’s coming on Christmas

They’re cutting down trees

They're putting up reindeer

And singing songs of joy and peace

Oh I wish I had a river I could skate away on

He walks back to you. “Is this okay?”

I wish I had a river so long

I would teach my feet to fly

Whoa I wish I had a river I could skate away on

The music flows around you, paralyzing you. You stare into his face, into the warm glow of his eyes. How could you have missed this? The way he’s looking at you now? Through all the long months since the auction?

He tried hard to help me

You know, he put me at ease

And he loved me so naughty

Made me weak in the knees

Oh, I wish I had a river I could skate away on

The words wash over you, through you. The scent of pine warms you, memories without form filling you with the sense of home, safety, love.

I made my baby cry

I'm so hard to handle

I'm selfish and I'm sad

Now I've gone and lost the best baby

That I ever had

Oh I wish I had a river I could skate away on

He takes your hands in his, thumbs across your skin. “Is it too much?”

You think of how cold it was, standing on the guardrail of the bridge. 

You were running toward the bridge, while Sylus was filling your home with warmth.

What would have happened if I hadn’t already been on my way to you?

You think of him spreading out on your couch, as a fever raged through your body. You think of your freezer, filled with food. You think of the takeout boxes, still steaming, sitting in front of your closed door.

You think of him hanging delicate ornaments on a fragrant tree. 

I made my baby cry

You shake your head, the enormity of what almost happened filling you. The enormity of the choice you made, that you enacted, until Sylus pulled you back from the rushing dark.

You start to shake.

“Kitten?”

“It’s not too much,” you say, teeth chattering. “It’s wonderful. Thank you.”

He stares down at you, seems to make a decision. “Shower. Now.”

You nod, moving away from him, but he follows. 

Inside your small bathroom, he takes up the entire space. He peels off your hunter’s uniform, tosses it beyond the open bathroom door. His gaze flicks from your undershirt, your underwear, to your face. “Do you want me to leave?”

You think of the dark water, an impact that never came. Sylus plugging in the record player, choosing a record with one of your favorite Christmas songs on it. Placing it delicately on the turntable.

“No. You promised you’d never leave me alone again.”

He smiles a little. “I mean, leave the bathroom.”

“No. You promised you’d never leave me alone again,” you repeat.

He stares into your eyes. Nods. Lifts your undershirt. He reaches behind you, unhooks your bra with the same agility that he unlaced your boots. He lifts it from your body, watches you as he lifts it to his nose, inhales.

You shiver.

He tosses the bra behind him. Kneels. Pulls your underwear from your hips, down your legs. You step out of them. He stands again.

He leans over, his ridiculous, festive sweater soft against your cheek, as he reaches past you to turn on the shower faucet. As he messes with the knobs until steam begins to fill the small space. He nudges you forward, past the sliding glass door and into the small shower cabin, letting the hot water pour over you. You turn, watch him through the clear glass. He picks up your underwear, watches you as he lifts it to his nose, inhales as he did with your bra. His eyes close for a moment, and then open. He tucks the little slip of fabric into his pants pocket, sits on the closed toilet, rests his elbows on his knees, and continues to watch you.

You let the hot water flow over your tired, cold body. You stare at Sylus’s face, let it fill your vision, blot out the rushing river, the impact that never came, the idea of everything you would have missed, if he hadn’t pulled you out. Everything you would have missed, in such a short amount of time. What else would you miss, if he hadn’t caught you? If he could give you so much within an hour, how much would you have missed in a day? In a week?

What have you been fighting, this whole time? 

Just yourself. 

You think of the stones at the bottom of the riverbed, instead of your body. Your conviction that you’re not loved, your guilt, your shame, instead of you.

You stare at the man who handed you each one, and told you to get rid of them, instead of yourself. The man sitting in your tiny bathroom, filling it with his big body, his even bigger presence, staring at you, staring at him.

You stop shaking.

Reach for the body wash, lather your hands. Run your hands along your body, under your armpits. He frowns, eyes on your hands. You palm your breasts, dip between your legs.

He lowers his head, eyes still on your hands, rests his full lips on his long steepled fingers.

You finish lathering your body, let the water wash it away. He’s too far away, even this close, on the other side of the glass.

As you turn off the water, he stands, lifts one of your towels from the rack. Holds it out for you. You step into it, him, let him wrap it around you. He turns you both, so that you’re looking in the bathroom mirror, which is mostly fogged.

“Better?” he asks.

You nod, soaking in his warmth at your back, the steam of the bathroom. 

You have a question, a question you can’t bring yourself to say out loud yet.

You reach out with one hand. Trace a finger through the fogged mirror.

Sylus watches you, resting his chin on your shoulder. 

Letters, a question.

Do you like me? Circle yes or no

Sylus smiles again, lifts an eyebrow. He reaches out, takes your hand in his. He circles no with your finger.

You frown, heart sinking, but Sylus just whispers, “Patience, kitten,” and flattens your palm across like. Guides your finger again, just above the erased like, drags it through the moisture in an elegant script.

love

He then gently sets your hand down. Lifts his own, circles with one long finger, yes.

He watches your reaction in the mirror.

You had no idea.

This whole time, you had no idea, even though he was showing you, with every ‘chance’ encounter, his pestering you with questions about work, life, his silly stories about the N109 Zone. His packages at your door. Fever medication, a big glass of water shoved into your hands.

You think of the rushing water, what almost happened. What you almost missed.

“Why didn’t you tell me? Why did you let me believe you still hated me?”

He looks down at you now, away from your reflection in the mirror. His eyes trail your face, down your curved neck. He palms the back of your neck, his thumb drifting along the side, over a mole there.

“Have you heard of the myth that where we have moles is where someone kissed us in a past life?”

Even if so much has changed between you in just the last few hours, you’re reassured that Sylus Qin still can’t answer a straightforward question with a straightforward answer.

You shake your head. “No, I had never heard of that.”

Sylus smiles, and it looks a little sad. He leans down, presses the softest of kisses against your skin, the mole there. “Like most human legends, it’s a pretty lie. Not quite true.”

You laugh. “I could have guessed as much.” You tilt your neck, enjoying the press of his warm lips on your skin for the first time.

He opens his mouth, runs his teeth over where he just kissed you. Bites, gently.

You shiver again. Press your neck into, instead of away from his teeth.

He bites harder.

You gasp.

“I was afraid I’d frighten you with the enormity of my feelings for you, when in your mind, we’d only just met,” he murmurs against your neck, his saliva, the indentation of his teeth hot on your skin.

He bites again, presses himself into your ass through the towel. You realize he’s hard.

You forget about the last part of his sentence. Had you not only just met?

You lift your hands, let the towel unfurl from around your body, let it drop to the floor.

You almost died tonight.

What have you been fighting this whole time?

Just yourself. 

He tried hard to help me

You know, he put me at ease

You turn in his arms. He’s breathing hard, cheeks pink.

“You love me?”

He closes his eyes. Opens them. Shakes his head. “Love isn’t intense enough.”

“Adore me?” You lift your arms, wrap them around his neck. Pull his face closer to your own.

He shakes his head again. “Still not enough.”

“You won’t survive without me?” You lift on your toes, his soft sweater almost unbearable against your sensitive nipples.

He nods. “You’re getting closer. Can’t breathe without you. When I saw you jump…” He swallows, thickly. “You might as well have pulled me down with you, beloved. If it ever gets to be too much again, take me with you. I’ll never leave you alone again. Promise me the same,” he demands, big, calloused hands running up your naked sides, the fabric of his dark jeans rough against your body, where your thighs meet, as he helplessly nudges against you again with his hips, his hard dick behind his zipper.

I'm so hard to handle

I'm selfish and I'm sad

“I wouldn’t have known, unless you told me,” you breathe against his lips. “Promise that you’ll tell me how you’re feeling from now on, and I’ll promise to take you with me if I can’t leave the stones in the riverbed, even with you here.”

His voice is deep, rough like the fabric of his pants against your sensitive skin. “Deal.” He closes the distance, presses his soft lips to yours. Licks into your mouth.

And he loved me so naughty

Made me weak in the knees

His hands drift down your sides as his tongue dips into your throat, as he swallows your noises of pleasure, just from kissing him, his hands on you. He grips your ass, urges your legs around his waist. He carries you out of the tiny, steaming bathroom, manages not to knock you against the doorway, or into any furniture on the way to your bedroom, even as he continues to kiss you, as your hands in his soft hair probably block his peripheral view. He lays you down on your bed, the puff of your duvet. It’s so warm in your place that you’re not even shivering. You watch as he pulls his cheerful sweater and undershirt over his head, tosses them to the floor. As he unzips himself, hastily yanks down his pants and boxers, his socks. He blankets you with his big body.

You wrap your arms around him, pull him tightly to you, arch your breasts into his chest. He leans down, runs his nose along your cheek, inhales the scent of your hair at your temple. You just feel each other, for a long stretch of time. His soft chest hair against your skin, the silken skin of his dick between your thighs where he just leisurely rubs himself against you, as your palms run down the muscles of his back, the line of his spine. You’ve refused to think of him like this, ever since he wrapped his hand around your throat. You couldn’t bear his beauty, through all the long months that followed. You fled, every time your heart raced at the flash of silver as he approached you, met you where you were, over and over and over.

But now he says he has loved you, through it all. That he’ll never leave you alone again.

You let yourself feel him, under your hands, under your tongue, as you lick into his ear, feel him shiver. As you squeeze your thighs together, offering him a tight, snug space for him to keep pleasuring himself, as you feel your own wetness begin to coat your inner thighs, his cock, the longer you feel him on top of you, inhale the scent of his skin, the ever-present gun oil, the cloves, his clean sweat underneath it all.

After a lifetime, or only a few minutes, he leans down, says softly into your ear. “I want you. Tell me you want me too.”

“Can’t you tell?” you ask, bucking a little, squeezing him with your legs again.

He makes a low, pleasured sound in his throat. “I want to hear you say it. You’ve gone through a lot tonight. I need to know you actually want this. That you’re not just—” his breath hitches, as you move your hips again, as his dick slips between your wet, soft places. “That you’re not too tired to say otherwise, not thinking straight.”

“Use your Aether Core on me. Then you’ll know that my body is telling you what my mouth would, if I said the words.” You smile at him, teasing. 

I wish I had a river so long

I would teach my feet to fly

You had wanted to fly. You had settled for flying for a brief moment, before shattering. 

But Sylus is offering you constant flight, under, over, along his crow’s wings.

You think of the rushing water. The tide of cars behind you, the wind whipping your hair. You almost missed this. You don’t want to waste any more time.

He lowers his forehead to yours, breathes, speaks against your saliva-slick lips with his own. “I don’t want to use my Aether Core on you. I want the words in your mouth, in your heart. I want your free will, your freely given consent. I almost lost you because I tried to force you, at the beginning. You believed I hated you, this whole time. Don’t ask me to force you again, my heart.”

You understand. You accept his request, his demand. “I want you, Sylus.”

He exhales, shifts above you, slips his wet cock between your legs, slides into your body with gentle, firm, graceful waves of his hips.

You whine, the feeling of fullness layering into the pleasure of the warmth of his skin, the taste of his tongue. For once, the feelings inside you threatening to burst out of your skin are so good, instead of painful, so pleasurable, that you can barely stand it. 

He kisses you, his velvet tongue big, heavy in your mouth. You suck, whine again as he lifts a hand, palms your breast, begins to thrust into you.

You are filled with him. His warmth. The size of him.

You widen your legs, wrap them around his thick ass. Urge him with your own body to move faster, to fuck you harder. He gives you everything you want. Just the pressure of his body against yours has you coming, the release bright, sudden—you shake with it.

Your pleasure seems to trigger his. He grunts, roots into you, buries his teeth in your neck, bites where he bit you before, over the mole on your neck. The sting makes you clench, and he whimpers, groans, comes with a jerk of his hips.

He slows, still filling you, still pleasuring you, as he lifts his head to look into your eyes.

You stare at each other, breath mingling, warm between you. 

You smile at him. 

He smiles at you. Nudges your nose with his.

“Can we do that again?” you ask.

He laughs, low and surprised. “Yeah,” he says, kissing you softly. “Just tell me, and I’m yours, anytime, anyplace.”

“I’m telling you.” You move your hips, feel his cum drip drown your ass. Feel him gasp at your movement.

“Now?” He’s surprised again.

“Problem?” you grin at him. 

“Fuck no.” He kisses you, hard. Slips out of you. Flips you over, lifts your hips with one big hand, pressing his other between your shoulder blades.

He presses his cock back between your legs, the slide easy and wet, and fucks you until you come again, until he blankets your back with his sweat-slicked, matted-hair chest.

“Was that enough, your highness?” he teases.

“I’m telling you,” you pant, wondering what he’ll do. 

“As you wish,” he murmurs, before flipping you again. Before watching your face as he slowly, leisurely works himself, his cum into you, makes you come again. 

In the morning, the sky through your windows is heavy, dark, gray. You wake slowly. Turn your head, find Sylus’s sleeping face next to yours on the pillow. He’s lying on his stomach. You take in the dark sweep of his lashes, his generous mouth, slightly parted.

You slip out of the bed, use the bathroom. You wander into the living room, gaze at the Christmas tree, its twinkling lights.

It’s Christmas.

Caleb and your grandmother are dead. 

But you’re still alive.

Your body aches from Sylus’s efforts, but it feels good. For once, it feels good to be inside your body. To breathe deeply.

You think of riverstones, sinking deep in the riverbed.

You know that the feelings tied to them will try to rise, clawing to the surface again.

We’ll gather other stones, when your feelings make life unbearable. I’ll come with you, as many times as you need.

Your eyes drift to the top of the Christmas tree. It’s empty.

“I thought we should finish it together.” Sylus’s warm arms wrap around you from behind. He leans over your shoulder, kisses your cheek softly. “Do you want to do the honors?”

You smile, wrapping your hands over his forearms around your waist. “You’re taller.”

“Use me as much as you like, kitten.” He turns, grabs a pretty golden glass tree-topper from your kitchen table, hands it to you. He lifts you up onto one shoulder, easily, and you fit it gently over the highest point of the tree. He holds you against him, as he lowers you. You slide along his body, until he sets you gently on your feet again.

You both stand, admiring it for a moment. It’s beautiful, like the rest of the decorations.

You hug him, look up into his face.

“Merry Christmas, Sylus.”

He smiles down at you, ruby eyes twinkling with reflected light from the tree. 

You would have missed this moment, and all the moments like it, if Sylus hadn’t stopped you last night. You shudder, hug him more tightly. 

You know your feelings will return. That no one person can solve a lifetime of wounds. But you promised him that you’d try. That you’d stay. You can only do your best.

You hear your phone vibrating, reluctantly pull away from him, head to your coat in the hallway where you thought you left it last night, but Sylus stops you. He points at your kitchen island. Your phone is lying on the counter. You look at him in confusion, but go to check it.

You’re shocked at how many missed texts you have.

From Tara.

Xavier.

Your eyes widen.

Zayne, who you thought you had blocked, months ago.

Rafayel, who you’re sure you blocked last night.

Each one is a response from a text you never sent. Telling them Merry Christmas. Telling them you love them. Telling them you hope to spend time with them soon.

None of them shame you, call you out on your behavior of the last year. Even Zayne simply suggests that you try a new bakery, that you’ve been in his thoughts, that he’s relieved you felt comfortable enough to reach out. Rafayel sends a bunch of firework emojis, suggests blowing shit up on the beach for New Year’s.

You turn to Sylus.

He looks steadily back at you, silver hair sleep-tousled, wine-bright eyes glowing.

Your eyes feel hot, and you realize you’re crying, the tears fat on your cheeks, dripping down your neck. 

This is the first time you’ve cried since you woke up, your ears deafening, Caleb’s necklace bright in the reflected fire.

Sylus walks over to you. Leans down, licks the tears from your cheeks with his warm tongue, one after the other. He kisses you, ignoring your suddenly snotty nose, your morning breath.

“If it’s too much, we can take it slow. We can throw more stones in the river. But please answer your friends. You need them. And you’re a fool, if you can’t see that they need you too, if that makes you feel better about your own need.”

You continue to cry as you wrap your arms around Sylus’s neck. As he gently sways with you, to music that isn’t playing. He hums, and you think it’s Joni Mitchell’s The River, but you can’t be sure. You smile against his chest.

A thought occurs to you.

“Last night, you said there was still time. That you had plans for us, a pretty dress for me. What did we miss?”

Sylus sighs, holds you closer against himself. “Don’t worry about it.”

You stop, look up into his face. “What did you have planned, Sylus? Are you sorry we missed it?”

He smiles at you. “Oh yes, so sorry I got to spend all night fucking you instead of going to a holiday concert featuring the organ.” His voice drips sarcasm. “But we can go tonight, if you’d like to make it up to me.”

You laugh, bury your face back into his chest. “And here I had planned to suck your cock while watching a black and white Christmas film marathon tonight,” you say forlornly. You smile into his chest as he chokes. “Oh well, the concert it is.”

He just laughs, rich and deep, and continues to sway you slowly in your living room.

“Merry Christmas, my heart,” Sylus says against your hair, in your pine scented apartment, as snow begins to fall outside your windows, as your phone continues to vibrate, filled with the love of your friends.

Here you are. Again.

You’re so grateful, to be here, again.

[dindjarindiaries]

Hunter was trying to be a good older brother to Crosshair and a good father to Omega in The Return, despite a few moments of weakness, through protectiveness, observation, and supportiveness. He ultimately succeeded in his objectives.

The Bad Batch S3E5 "The Return" will always be one of my favorites because it doesn't shy away from the complexity of the family's dynamic after 1) losing Tech, who was often a peacekeeper/mitigator, and 2) regaining Crosshair. While I, and many others, wish the former was explored more, it does an excellent job of showing us even more about these siblings' dynamics than we even knew before.

As always with any analysis, this is a disclaimer that you may view this episode in an entirely different way due to various biases, one of the most notable being based upon your own favorite characters and your own life experience. All I ask is that you read through carefully before chiming in with any counterarguments!

The line of dialogue that most of my argument here hinges upon is from Hunter about midway through the episode, just before his and Crosshair's fight.

"I know you."

Going back to the very beginning of the episode, we see Hunter and Wrecker sitting and waiting for Omega to wake up. Crosshair's clearly not there, and when Omega asks about their brother's whereabouts, Wrecker says he wasn't there when they woke up, before Hunter adds this.

His face is clearly displaying concern, even though his words are reassuring. He's no doubt worried about Crosshair, too, but like he says later on: he knows Crosshair. He knows what to do when Crosshair's upset, and that the sniper wants/needs time alone, hence why he and Wrecker didn't go after him. Hunter is trying to reassure Omega, who isn't as familiar with Crosshair at this point, by insisting that this is how he adjusts to change. It's important to note that there doesn't really seem to be any hostility radiating from Hunter (or Wrecker) towards Crosshair here.

In fact, the duo only gets up and goes to check on Crosshair once Omega's involved. This proves something else that's important to understand for Hunter's character in this episode: he's wrestling with both his concern for Crosshair and his protectiveness over Omega, and that's because of this moment from season 1:

Because of Crosshair telling Hunter in S1E15 that he had his inhibitor chip removed, without the context of when, Hunter has to assume for Omega's safety that this was Crosshair acting of his own accord. This is because, if Hunter's to be a reliable protector of her, he always has to be as cautious as possible with those she's surrounded by—and unfortunately, in this case, that includes Crosshair.

(Remember that, even as the sergeant of Clone Force 99 and the eldest brother/caretaker of their family, Hunter's priorities have shifted since the war ended; Omega now comes before all else. He says this as early as S1E7 to Rex, when they had only had Omega for a short time. This is now at least a year after those events, which means that sentiment's only grown stronger for Hunter, especially after losing Omega to the Empire for six months.)

Because Crosshair is smart and also knows his brothers just like they know him, he comes to this conclusion himself. This is why he's not surprised when they start watching him and Omega from a distance, and why Crosshair insists it's because "They don't trust me."

Then, Echo arrives, and they start making plans to go to Barton IV. This is where we see Hunter's protectiveness of Omega really shining, along with some interesting glimpses of Hunter's concern/curiosity about Crosshair and what he went through.

The fact that Omega and Hunter have the same expression here... that's intentional. Omega is but a mirror of her brothers, and always has been ever since she met them. She and Hunter are literally displaying the same amount of sympathy and concern for Crosshair here.

Now, this look from Hunter that's immediately after Crosshair's done talking is read as anger from a lot of people, which is understandable. To me, though, especially through this lens, it looks more like Hunter is coming to a conclusion. Hunter can tell that Crosshair knows more (and has gone through more) than he's letting on about, but he doesn't care that much about getting the intel that Echo no doubt wants. Hunter just doesn't like the fact that Crosshair won't open up about what happened to him.

It's important to keep in mind that as Hunter and Wrecker were watching Omega and Crosshair before, they undoubtedly saw Crosshair's target practice going poorly. Hunter would certainly make note of that, and thinking of his physical struggles along with hearing this... well, yeah, Hunter's gonna have a serious pondering face, because he wants to know what's wrong with his youngest brother so he can help him. But because he knows his brother, he knows that he has to keep his space for now and be mindful.

Once plans for the trip to Barton IV come up, Hunter proposes that he goes with Crosshair and Echo, again proving that Hunter isn't really trying to avoid Crosshair. In fact, Hunter only expresses any concern when Omega wants to join, and we all know why. He's worried about her and doesn't want to risk it, which he says plainly.

It's clear, though, that Hunter is still worried about Crosshair being so close to Omega, too, especially if they're going to an Imperial hideout. Hunter has trauma from that moment in S1E8, and it's not easy for him to see past that, as much as he does still care and worry for his youngest brother. Again, he has to suspect that anyone is capable of hurting her, aside from the brothers who've been protecting her alongside himself the entire time.

Crosshair even acknowledges this when he and Hunter pass one another while packing up the night before.

(I'd like to note that, in this moment, Hunter's the one who moves to accommodate Crosshair's path. To me, that's more evidence of the fact that Hunter is keeping a safe distance from Crosshair to let him process, but because Omega's there too, he's also keeping a watchful eye on him. He's really torn between the two.)

"Don't hold it against him," Crosshair tells Omega. Why? Because:

Crosshair understands that most, if not all, of Hunter's moments of caution towards Crosshair have everything to do with Omega and her safety, rather than Hunter being angry at Crosshair. Hunter doesn't like that Omega's going on this risky mission, and he really doesn't like that it's happening with Crosshair there, when he hasn't even told Hunter everything that happened. How is he supposed to properly protect her (and Crosshair) without knowing all the details?

(And how sweet is it that Crosshair agrees with Hunter's take on Omega coming with them?)

They get to Barton IV, and there, we get one of Hunter's moments of weakness, when he's really giving in to his protectiveness of Omega and his frustration/worry about having such few details about Crosshair and his falling out with the Empire.

(But first, let's quickly acknowledge Crosshair emerging in his old armor, and the fact that Hunter, Wrecker, and the others kept it. Hunter (and Wrecker I believe) both lost pieces of their armor during their search for Omega, no doubt either losing them in dangerous situations or selling things to get by, but they never once touched Crosshair's kit—even when it would have been really easy to sell his things before selling their own.)

Because the base is empty, Hunter starts to worry that it's a sign of something bad. Remember, just because Hunter is the level-headed sergeant and leader of the group, he's not immune to trauma. Imagine how traumatizing Eriadu and all his failed attempts to find Omega with Wrecker were for him, especially with him literally being a tracker. The last time they were all together like this on a mission was when Tech died.

So, Hunter gives into that protective sense and challenges Crosshair, because now he needs the details. He has a sense that this place is notable to Crosshair, but not how, and if he wants to protect Omega, who is his main priority, he has to find out. He's also getting more and more frustrated that Crosshair won't talk to him about it.

This can be evidenced by one of their exchanges. It's only after Crosshair brings up his cell again that Hunter insists, "I get the feeling there's more to this place than you're saying." And... well, Hunter's right. This is a place of trauma for Crosshair, and Hunter's no doubt picking up on that. After being reminded of Crosshair's imprisonment, Hunter has to ask, he has to press, in his mind, for the wellbeing of Omega, Crosshair, and the rest of his squad.

Again, Hunter doesn't like operating off little information to accomplish all these things. He's a protector at heart, and he always has been. Crosshair not giving him all the details he can remember (likely because of his own trauma) makes Hunter feel even more on edge, and that's why he lashes out a bit more at his brother, questioning him about why he didn't mention the raiders before.

Unfortunately, with Crosshair deflecting to avoid his own hurt, Hunter takes the bait and engages, leading to their exchange of "Just following orders?" "If you're scared, why don't you wait on the ship?" Thankfully, Echo steps in and breaks it up, which gives Hunter time to clear his head again. This is Hunter's first biggest moment of weakness.

Now, we're getting to one of my favorite sequences: Hunter watching Crosshair from a distance inside the depot.

Hunter clocks Crosshair's discomfort right away after Echo says that Crosshair's words about the base serving its purpose "Sounds familiar." Again, it's easy to understand why people might read this as Hunter being angry or cautious, but to me, it looks like Hunter's just trying to get a read on why that particular exchange sent Crosshair away, and what exactly he's looking for.

Wanting to figure out more so that he can help Crosshair and thus help them all in this very moment, Hunter quietly follows Crosshair, and that's what leads to him seeing Crosshair pick up Mayday and the other regs' helmets.

(Hunter lurking in the back right. I'm obsessed with this shot.)

Remember, Hunter is observing this as someone who remembers Crosshair not wanting anything to do with the regs. He antagonized them perhaps the most out of any other in the squad during their arc in The Clone Wars, and he even told Hunter in S1E15 that the Batch was superior to the regs, and to most other soldiers in general. Hunter seeing Crosshair treat these reg helmets with such reverence is such a strong indication to him that something major has shifted for Crosshair, and it had likely happened on this planet.

But Hunter, again, knowing his brother, remains a quiet observer. It would've been easy for him to engage here, but he recognizes that Crosshair needs this moment to himself. Hunter even leaves him to it after. Would someone who really didn't trust Crosshair at all whatsoever turn their back to him like that? What he does is give his brother privacy, and acknowledge that he needs to know what happened... but this isn't the right place or time to be pressing him about it.

Danger is lurking, though, and Hunter's desperation to know the truth so he can be better equipped is growing. It hits a peak when Crosshair, prompted by Batcher's barking, checks the perimeter by himself. Pay close attention to how Hunter reacts to Crosshair's exit.

It isn't really anger in this expression. Wrecker's behind him is certainly one of concern. Hunter instead looks determined, and that's because he's about to pursue Crosshair to start getting answers. He's tired of not knowing, and because the stakes are starting to rise, and the evidence is all around him. Hunter decides that he's given enough space and now has to push Crosshair to talk to him.

Because, as Hunter's about to say in a few seconds, he knows Crosshair. He knows, and from what Echo says later, he's always known how to get Crosshair to talk, and it seems that it often involves some fighting and bloodshed—because Crosshair has a harder time opening up than his other brothers.

But Hunter will be damned if he doesn't try, especially now that Omega's safety could depend on this information.

Now, at last, we're at the pinnacle moment of the episode for these two characters: the fight, and another moment of weakness for Hunter. He reminds Crosshair that he knows him, and he demands this time to know what exactly happened here.

Hunter, because he knows his brother, has to push Crosshair (literally) to get anything out of him. He doesn't want this to be simple bickering like before. So, Hunter goes for a low blow. He knows that Crosshair values loyalty above all else, so he brings up Crosshair's disloyalty to both the Empire and their own squad, knowing it'll hurt him enough to get some real responses out of him.

Then comes the physical shove. This is a clear demand for Crosshair to start giving answers.

But look at how Hunter's expression changes as he waits for Crosshair to talk.

His brow softens, because Crosshair's hesitance to say or do something right away is evidence of the fact that it's something really, really serious that happened. At the end of the day, he's just worried for his brother. He wants to know, needs to know, so he can help him. It almost looks like he's pleading for an answer here.

And Crosshair does answer truthfully, revealing that he killed Lt. Nolan. Hunter is obviously shocked, and he even has a somewhat guilty reaction to Crosshair saying "after they betrayed me", because, I mean, we all know Hunter's been harboring guilt for leaving Crosshair behind.

That's when Crosshair digs his claws in to protect himself, too, also going for low blows against Hunter—starting with Hunter ignoring the warning Crosshair had sent from Tantiss.

(What's really telling to me here is that Hunter doesn't once defend himself when he easily could have. He could have told Crosshair that he was the only one who wanted to listen to Crosshair's warning, but that his and the rest of the squad's desire to try to save Crosshair ultimately won out. But he doesn't. He just takes it.)

Hunter only starts to get really angry when Crosshair gets Omega involved.

Hunter turned Crosshair's loyalty against him, so Crosshair turns Hunter's protectiveness against him. Imagine being a protector like Hunter, who's even more fiercely protective of Omega, and being told that after months of desperate, worried searching, you're the reason why the person you care the most about went through their worst bout of suffering.

Yeah, that stings. Especially because there's truth to it, the part about his jealousy towards Crosshair being the one to free her instead of himself. Hunter no doubt felt like he had failed as Omega's protector by losing her to the Empire, and not only that, but the brother he left behind had to be the one to bring her back to them.

(I also think that, in reading between the lines in this entire part of Crosshair's argument, he could even be insinuating that Hunter's shouldering the blame for Tech's death. If he knows the details, then he knows that ultimately, Hunter's the one who approved the mission. "You ignored it", in reference to Crosshair's message, could mean that both Tech and Omega could have been safe if Hunter had simply made the right call. It may not have been intentional on Crosshair's part, but I could easily see Hunter thinking that, especially if he already felt guilty about it.)

No wonder why these two are about to fist fight in the snow. Their ugliest, scariest monsters have finally come out.

And that's when the scary monster comes out, too.

(I love the symbolism!)

Hunter immediately snaps back into his protector mode. He warns Crosshair to move, but also physically shoves Crosshair out of the way and takes his previous place, making himself the one who's closest to the threat.

(Hunter does this a lot with his squad, by the way.)

They focus on getting to safety, and then figuring out a plan with the others to get the wyrm back outside the perimeter. This is when Hunter insists that they have to make sure the wyrm is drawn out that far so that they're not trapped inside with it, and Crosshair volunteers to take it on his own. But Hunter's not okay with that.

You would think that Hunter would want to be as far away from Crosshair as possible after what just transpired, but he doesn't. Instead, in this moment, Hunter is assuring Crosshair that he doesn't have to do things alone anymore, that they're brothers at the end of the day, and he wants to help. I think this is Hunter's first true attempt at making a truce with Crosshair, and attempting to extend his hand to him.

Of course, Crosshair snaps back asking Hunter if he's sure that's what he wants, and that leads to a moment of tension—but notice that, unlike the other times, Hunter doesn't retaliate. He understands with more clarity now why Crosshair's lashing out. Crosshair's hurting.

So, in teaming up with Crosshair here, Hunter knows he can mend what's most important to Crosshair by proving it with his actions: loyalty.

If anything, what Crosshair lashing out here and what Hunter going with him proves is that Crosshair's mostly hurt that he's lost the loyalty/trust of his brothers. When they get out there and Hunter's trapped underneath the ice, left to rely on his brother for guidance and rescue, it allows Crosshair to mend that sense of loyalty and trust. He can earn it back.

Not because Hunter necessarily needs him to do that, although it certainly is helpful, but because Hunter knows that Crosshair needs that. Crosshair needs to feel reliable to them again.

That's what's so perfect about Hunter's safety literally being in Crosshair's hands here. They're able to banter the way they likely would've during the war, and Hunter doesn't hesitate when Crosshair extends his rifle to pull him up and get him out of the hole in the ice.

Hunter gets proof that he can indeed trust Crosshair with his life again, and Crosshair gets that proof, too. Because, at the end of the day, they're just an eldest and youngest brother. Youngest siblings (I say as a youngest child myself) are often looking for validation and trust from their older siblings, especially the eldest. This display of trust must've been so, so validating and healing for Crosshair.

That brings us back to that first line of dialogue I highlighted: "I know you." Hunter knew Crosshair was hurting like this all along, and while he was struggling between his protectiveness over Omega and his concern for Crosshair, he was finally able to make his brother's journey to healing happen.

We then get the nods of mutual trust, understanding, apologies, and forgiveness, before they sit in peace together.

(This is one of my favorite shots in all of Star Wars. I mean, come on.)

I love how the shift in their dynamic is evident enough that everyone recognizes it once they get back. They hug it out with Wrecker, and then we shift into one of the most meaningful dialogue exchanges we'll ever get between them.

Now that Crosshair's laid more of his vulnerabilities out on the table, he seeks reassurance in Hunter. Again, youngest siblings so often just want to feel validated by their older siblings, especially the eldest. Crosshair's looked to Hunter to lead him and guide him his whole life. This is why the guilt's so evident when he comes clean about making mistakes with the Empire.

It would've been so easy for Hunter to say yeah, you did make mistakes, you did hurt us and many innocent people. Instead, Hunter says these simple few words that carry so much weight:

Hunter takes on that burden with Crosshair. He lets his own vulnerabilities show by saying, yeah, I'm with you there, there are things I wish I hadn't done, either. He then gives him reassurance and hope by saying that they can forge a new path forward, that they're not tied down by who they used to be, nor what bad decisions they made.

Hunter is putting them on the same level here, and for someone like Crosshair, who probably thought his brothers would never trust him nor accept him the way they used to because of what he's done, this means everything.

(I also feel like Crosshair really needed to hear the "I have regrets too" line from Hunter in particular. He needed a hint that Hunter really did regret leaving him behind, even if it was the best/safest option for the rest of the squad at the time. You can certainly still regret doing something, even if it was the best option at that time.)

In summary, The Return is about not just a return to Barton IV, but a return to who Clone Force 99 used to be. Crosshair's return to his squad, the return of their trust in him and vice versa. A return to the familiar.

Hunter didn't handle this perfectly, nor would anyone who was in his shoes with all these complicated relationships and trauma, but he did his best. Even while caught between his concern for Crosshair and his fierce protectiveness of Omega and the members of his family that he had left, Hunter still found a way to make things right. He completed both objectives.

For as much as Crosshair needed to have the trust of his family back, Hunter needed the reassurance that he could still keep his entire family safe on missions like these. He needed to know he could still take care of them, physically and emotionally.

And he succeeded.

[byers-bowlcut]

I've seen people say El likes the IDEA of having a boyfriend more than she actually likes her own boyfriend, and jfc it's so true 😭 Like it's all over the show:

Season 1

She's initially attached to Mike because he's the first person to give her shelter, food, genuine human care and just,, not calling CPS immediately. Her feelings for him was born from trauma and dependency in season 1. And throughout the rest of the 3 seasons, we don't see it grow past that.

Also I think it's noticeable in S1 that:

She was uninterested when Mike tried to share his hobbies with her

She also did not seem to mind AT ALL when she questioned if Mike could be her brother. He voice is neutral and curious here, not the least bit repulsed by the thought of being siblings with Mike, like girl does not care 😭

Season 2

This season has zero onscreen moments of Mike and El actually getting to know each other further. They were separated nearly the whole season.

What we DO see:

El's attachment and dependency on Mike that was developed from S1

We also find out how El spent a year of her life watching melodramatic romance films. Many other middle schoolers might identify that relationships in real life don't work like those films. But El is fresh out of lab life, she's literally learning the world through this TV, and has now become obsessed with the IDEA of having a boyfriend/relationship just like that.

Season 3

Again, no onscreen moments of El showing interest in who Mike is as a person.

The very first scene we see of them, she's trying to get him to stop singing along to the song they're listening to. She seems to like kissing Mike. But isn't shown enjoying anything actually characteristic about him, like sharing interests with him such as music.

Hopper indicates that they don't do anything meaningful together either. We see here that before hanging out with Max, El had little sense of her own style, her hobbies, her interests- meaning spending time with Mike for months probably didn't involve many talking points did it?

Also in season 3, El dumps Mike with ZERO hesitation. Then she has the time of her life with Max. The most acknowledgment we get that she's oh so heartbroken is a small frown to Max that her and Mike aren't on best terms. And even that doesn't seem so paramount cause 1 episode later she totally dismisses Mike after he explains how Hopper threatened him. She just tells him maybe Hopper was right 😭😭

It's literally ONLY once she starts becoming in danger that she starts clinging onto him again. I feel like we've seen this film before hm.

Like where are any signs that she likes Mike as an individual, and is falling for who he really is, rather than simply being attached due to trauma, and liking the concept of doing romantic things (ie: kissing, dancing at the ball, etc.)

Season 4

This is the season it becomes the MOST OBVIOUS: El loves the concept of a happy relationship and being loved, but not really loving Mike for who he is. And bringing in Will's feelings just emphasizes this point.

To start, El continues doing all these relationship-y things that she did in the start of S3. She has Mike's name and pictures plastered all over her room. She makes a "Mike box" with his pictures decorated all over it. But the thing is: this is all sort of a façade at this point. We know she's BEEN unhappy with him for months ("From Mike! From Mike! From Mike!"). But with all these items, she's basically trying to convince herself that she's in this happy, fantasy, movie-like relationship, like she probably watched in hopper's cabin in season 2.

And then, there's the sheer difference between her and WILL in their feelings for Mike. We see it right off the bat when Mike comes to the airport: Will and El both have plans to give Mike something.

Will plans to give him a painting he worked extremely hard on. The painting is a connection of what they BOTH love: DnD, and it includes their friends who also play the game. It's very personal and immediately touches Mike. What's more is, the painting illustrates the exact qualities about Mike that Will loves: his leadership, his bravery, his guidance. This painting literally spells out to us that Will truly loves Mike for WHO HE IS.

Meanwhile, El plans on giving Mike a fun reunion date. She has the whole day planned out. And immediately: we see that what she wants to do doesn't actually takes Mike's interests and personality into consideration. You can see and hear the strain in his voice when he talks about "burritos for breakfast" 😬

You can see how he's not that relaxed at rinkomania, and nervous about skating, saying he's clumsy. He probably would've much preferred movies and playing a board game, over skating. But El has her own ideas. When she brings Mike to rinkomania, she tries to act really cool about it. She wants to impress him, wants to seem like she fits in and belongs.

Her present was never actually ABOUT Mike, and about loving Mike that she would plan this huge date for him. Her present was about her desperately wanting to have this cool date like every other normal teen girl might, with a normal boyfriend, and make it seem like they have a happy perfect relationship.

And then finally we reach their S4 fight. I find it extremely interesting how Hopper's cabin is framed in the background during their whole fight. It's almost like an indication that her desperate need to be loved by Mike stems from her trying to cope with losing Hopper and the hole left by him, that clearly did not exist when she happily dumped Mike in S3.

In their fight, when the topic of bullying comes up, Mike says he understands her, but El is quick to say he doesn't. She thinks Mike doesn't understand her, but this is just as much her not understanding HIM as well.

She doesn't get the extent of Mike's insecurities (definitely partially a result of bullying), something that Mike later divulges to WILL and not her. If the writers wanted to show us how much El understands Mike and loves him for who he is, her and Mike would work through his insecurities in their rs together, NOT through a middle man.

Overall it's pretty striking that we've never once heard El actually compliment Mike, or articulate, or even show what exactly she loves about him through four whole seasons. I mean...

Attachment to him due to trauma or grief =/= loving him for who he is.

Wanting to BE loved =/= loving him for who he is.

So really in terms of a relationship, what El ACTUALLY wants is the concept/idea of a regular boyfriend, and a happy easy relationship, all in an attempt to feel normal. And that's why we see them fall apart the way they do in season 4, and why Will is currently so involved. Because Will DOES see and love Mike for exactly who he is.

[thedivineden]

needing more izuku stuff !!!!

would love any kind of perv izuku🙏‼️

also love the writing style!

I LOVE IZUKU AND IMMEDIATELY THOUGHT ABOUT HOW GROSS AND PRECISE HE’D BE IF HE WAS A PERVERT ESPECIALLY TO THE NEW MOM NEXT DOOR !!! I GOT SLIGHT CARRIED AWAY BUT I HOPE YOU LIKE IT, THANK YOU FOR THIS INSPIRATION AND BEING MY FIRST REQUEST! HOPEFULLY OTHERS WILL COME FORWARD WITH ANOTHER REQUEST! ૮꒰ྀི◜༝◝ ꒱ྀིა

Mentions of: stalking, surveillance, dubcon/noncon, single mom, self-gratification, drugging, manipulation, insecurity, paranoia, intruder staging/descriptive imagery.

♤ Pervert Izuku is perfect by design; very sweet, humble but it’s not overbearing, helpful, handy, and most importantly, good with kids.

 ♤ You quickly became his target, and the day you moved in, Izuku insisted on helping you carry everything in. Naturally, as many mothers, you were apprehensive to accept the newly acquainted young man inside your home and denied his assistance. Izuku quickly responded by mentioning his own single mother, how he only wants to make her proud, and how she would hit him across the head if he didn't help you.

 ♤ Izuku is a wonderful liar; he did not lie about his single mother, nevertheless he has already made her proud in many ways. Izuku utilized the excuse of "helping you move in" to remember and photograph your house layout, taking special note of where your bedroom would be and the most convenient entry points to reach you in the smallest and quickest span of time.

 ♤ Naturally, you offered him money in exchange for his services, but Izuku politely rejected and instead requested that you prepare him a dinner. He could tell you were stressed; he notices the absence of a band on your finger and the bags under your eyes. You would be his easiest target, and invading your life would be his number one priority: 

 You prepare a three-course dinner for him and yourself granting his request. When he is done hauling everything in, he comes to the dining room and much to your surprise, attempts to assist you in setting the table. You lead him immediately to the table he put together for you and tell him to wait, which is when the true game begins. 

 Izuku did exactly as you said, making sure to move his seat closer to yours and graciously thanking you for your hospitality and the meal you made for him. He could see the glint in your eyes and the darkness surrounds you temporarily lifting. “It’s the least I can do after you helped me move everything in.  It’s been really hard so I really appreciate it.” 

 The entire meal is spent in conversation between you two as you tell him about your life, including learning that your high school love cheated on you for years, which finally led to a divorce and your move into his neighborhood. When the moment is right, Izuku puts his hand on yours, and you give him a beautiful grin in return, but you move your hand away.

 Izuku's tactics are like that of a predator expertly pursuing his prey; he is aware of your vulnerability and can practically hear you berating yourself for falling for the first man who shows you kindness and telling yourself that you should be concentrating on your children and your collapsing life.

 Over the course of the dinner, you two exchange stories and laughs. Izuku apologizes for the affair and divorce, saying your former spouse is a moron who would never screw a woman like you. He noticed the glimmer in your eye growing, but he wasn't prepared for you to hurry him out the door with leftovers and a heartfelt thank you. It left the young man both perplexed and interested. Making you his and his alone was the only thing on his mind.

 Over the next year, Izuku slowly becomes a household name, a part-time nanny, and a full-time pervert. It was all apart of his five step plan:

1. Slow and steady wins the race. Your love languages consist of acts of service and words of affirmations. Make a point to always bring flowers, to help out whenever he had the chance, and passionately express how great of a mother and person you are.

2. Whenever he had a chance to be in your house he’d place or fix any cameras and mechanism he had. 

3. After a year, if you voice the three phrases: “I don’t know what I do without you”, “"I value you and our relationship so much", “"I'm so thankful for you" that’s when he’ll begin to prepare the trap and catch his prey.

  The first line was spoken during a storm that left you without electricity, but fortunately Izuku had a generator. You had a lovely day with your baby at his house. You three cooked dinner, baked s'mores, and ended with watching finding Nemo with your head on his shoulder you whispered, "I don't know what I'd do without you.”

  The second line describes an evening you spent returning home from work. You asked him if he wanted dinner after you returned home, clearly agitated, and thanked him for watching your daughter. Izuku moved quickly toward you, stroking your arms and inquiring as to how you were doing. When you told him about your day, you began to break down. You explained how your manager and clients yelled at you, and your supervisor had gone over the articles you had sent in and given you a 24-hour window to create another one. Izuku gave you reassurance right away and even offered to assist with brainstorming and drafting another piece.

 The third line came the same night, in the midst of Izuku consoling you, you took it as an opportunity to lean in and kiss him. You were stuttering, hastily apologizing and ushering him out the door. You expressed his importance in your life as a friend and would never want to make him uncomfortable. You shut the door before allowing him to say a word. Izuku went home and didn’t come see you until 3 days later. This is when the nexts steps continue:

4. Izuku will allow the connection to become awkward, flirty, and stressful. He will sexually frustrate you and infiltrate your home. The eventual effect of this phase will be sexual frustration, confusion, and exhaustion. Izuku's purpose is to make you hungry for him and afraid in your home so you invite him over more often.

 Izuku took his time in this phase, offering to watch your toddler while you worked. When you arrived home, dinner would be ready, and after you finished eating, Izuku would draw a bath with a glass of wine waiting for you and before the evening concluded you would always receive a massage from the talented man. Izuku's hands would droop and became eager with each massage. Your robe would drop lower, revealing more of your body, and he noticed it. This action indicated to him that you were mentally ready for him to take you somewhere. 

 When he came up to you in the kitchen, his footsteps were typically silent, but you could always feel his presence behind you. Izuku would be positioned behind you, gazing over your shoulder and begging you to feed him. You'd then turn around with a spoon, realizing how close he is and how he has you encircled and blocked on each side by his hands on the counter. The look in his eyes indicates hunger, but you both know it is not for whatever is in the pot.

 Izuku persisted in his antics, being a charming, flirty, and ideal man! Then at night he’d break into your house in one of three ways: through your bedroom window, your toddlers bedroom window, or directly through the front door. Why? The most horrifying ways for someone to enter your house are through the front door without leaving any trace behind, through the window in your own bedroom, or through the window in your child's bedroom.

 In an effort to instill fear in you, Izuku would, for the following thirty days, take objects you knew you had put away or steal a sock or piece of your underwear, forcing you to search for the missing items every wash day. He even went so far as to break in while you were at work and replace your usual nightly prescription with sleeping pills so he could record himself enjoying your nude body in front of him. He would cover your lips with a damp paper towel and brush his angry head over it so as not to shock you or cause any physical reactions.

   Whenever he leave his through your windows he he leaves a flower at the base, and set off a trigger mechanism rendering noises that sound like a break-in once he’s at home to wake you to his gift. As a result of all he did, you were always left crying and at his door in the middle of the night with your sleepy toddler on your hip, pleading with him to let you and her stay.

 Throughout these nights you two would either stay up talking about what happened or you’d end up in his arms sleep. His plan has one more final phase before he can officially steal your heart, mind, body, and soul:

 

5. Izuku needed to create a situation where he’s saving you or you and your child.

 Over the course of the following two weeks, Izuku took steps to ensure that you would be left helpless and vulnerable. A staging firm from another country was called upon to break into the house, give you and your child enough time to hide, give Izuku enough time to enter, and have extra staff on standby as police officers. The break-in happened a week later, and although you were already having trouble sleeping due to your ongoing anxiety and terror, it's real now, and you're terrified.

 You jump out of bed, make your way to your daughter’s room, and you both hide in a small nook in the back of your daughter’s closet. Your heart is pumping in your ears and the fear on your daughter’s face is heartbreaking and nauseating. You silently prayed with your eyes closed, you could hear the people rummaging through the house, and talking just loud enough for anyone in the house to hear. Then, a knock invokes silence through the house, you thought the intruders speaking was bad, this is ten times worse. Then the doorbell rings out breaking the silence and then your name could be heard. 

 The tension in your chest is temporarily lifted when you hear Izuku's voice at your door asking for you. Perhaps you two will be fine, but the sound of quiet shuffling can be heard once the key lock turns. You longed to leave the closet and warn him about what awaits him, but your child's safety comes first, and you know he would agree. When the front door opens, you hear scuffling and curses flying; you protect your daughter's ears when you hear: "Get him to the floor, fuck him up, kill him." You couldn't control your breathing, and it felt like all the blood rushed to your ears.

 The next thing you hear is what you believe to be a gunshot, and your body stiffens until you hear Izuku shouting to you and sirens outside. You clutch your babygirl tightly in your arms and rush out to him, yelling his name. Coming around the corner, you collide with him and collapse into his arms. You glance up at him and see the injuries he inflicted on the attackers, which makes you cry even harder. He assures you that everything is fine and expresses care for you and your daughter's well-being.

 After the "police" arrive, Izuku is by your side as you describe what you heard, did, and what has been going on for the past few weeks, but this is not new information. Izuku particularly called this firm since they are recognized for providing discretion for a lump sum of money and the ability to construct any fictitious scenario by any means necessary for as long as the client pays. He doesn't mind the glances he gets from various "officers"; he knows what they're thinking; he's sick, and he knows it.

Izuku insist that you and your daughter stay at his house until everything was handled and the investigation was completed. The officials authorized you and him to get essentials for you and your daughter. Everything is numbing; you feel powerless, useless, and incapable of leading a regular life. Then comes the breakdown: you're in the toilet of the shared room with your sleeping daughter, and the last thing you expect is a knock and Izuku entering with you.

 You try to wipe your tears away quickly, but he sits down on the floor with you and draws you close. When he starts caressing your back, you clutch to him and cry even harder; you two have been stuck like that for two hours, your eyes are tired and red, but when you look up at him, all he can think about is wanting to see the same expression in the bedroom. The feel of his hard-on should have been a red flag for you; you shouldn't have leaned in, but you did, and this is what he's been looking for.

 Izuku takes full advantage of this time, savoring the first kiss between you two; he's slow at first, which is great. He grips your waist and pulls you onto his lap, careful not to break the kiss, biting your lip to secure your closeness, which is rewarded with a tiny groan from you. He moves quickly with you in his arms, being sure not to wake your sleeping daughter, and brings you upstairs to his bedroom.

 Izuku is weary of being hungry for you, of using his hand while looking at pictures of you from the cameras in your bathroom and shower; now is the time for the real thing, and he will not disappoint. He tosses you on the bed, closes and locks the door, and then leaves you in his bathroom. You were perplexed, but the heartbeat underneath stopped all warning sirens in your thoughts. Izuku emerges from the restroom with a crimson fluffy garment and begs you to put it on for him. You'd never had a man beg you to do anything, but when it came to him, he gave the word a special meaning. How could you say no?

 The smile he gives you ignites your body, and you swiftly remove your clothes and attempt to dress in the bathroom. He's quick to stop you, noticing the perplexity on your face as he timidly asks you to undress for him. You were completely flustered; it had been a long time since you had done anything intimate, and you had never stripped for anyone before. Izuku's face is crimson, which calms you down; knowing that you and him are possibly going through something together and sharing the same emotions inspires you to remove your shirt, followed by your pajama bottoms. His gaze is fixed on your body as you tease him by pulling down your bra and underpants.

 He enjoys seeing you like this; he wants to see more, touch you, and that is exactly what he does. Izuku holds you close and kisses your stomach and thighs, getting particularly close to your pussy. He brings you to the bed and softly glides his hands under both of your thighs to the back of your knees to raise your legs up. Your eyes are fixed on the ceiling, and your mind is reeling from the excitement and adrenaline of the night's events.

 He asks if you are okay, and you only hum in return, he gets in your face and asks the same thing again. You reassure him, and he asks that you keep your eyes on him. "Say it, say you'll keep your eyes on me."He swears he sees a sparkle in your large eyes, and you respond, "I will keep my eyes on you."

Then he's in between your legs like a thirsty puppy; he begins with a soft kiss, testing your waters to see what makes you squirm, moan, and quiver, and once he does, you're putty in his mouth. Izuku takes his time with you, yet he leaves no aspect of you unnoticed or ignored. His tongue seems to write incantations on your clit and slit, causing you to buck and tangle your fingers in his hair. Izuku enjoys this moment, sighs into your cunt, and continues to lick and torment your clit. He looks up at you and falls in love. Your hair is sticking to you now, pleasure is written all over your face, and he understands what you want.

He lets you to rest your legs on his shoulders, relieving the pressure, and puts a finger into your dripping hole. Your moans are beautiful, and the way you speak his name makes Izuku happy right now, but he can't leave unless you're foolish on his cock. He takes a long lick before raising his head and saying, "How does it feel, pretty?" You've always loved his pet names, which he'd occasionally say to you, but this is overwhelming. Your response is breathy and hardly coherent: "I'm- It- it feels good, please don't stop." He can feel you tighten around his fingers, which are stroking your ravenous hole, laughs, and continues to devour you.

Izuku's speed increased the knot in your gut, and you felt heated and overstimulated.His tongue and fingers are a gift from heaven. He took his time to discover your sweet spot and what feels most comfortable for you, and once he does, you're a mess. Izuku suddenly stops in front of you and plants kisses on your lips, neck, and breast. Your eyes were no longer on him; instead, they were tightly closed as you braced yourself for the surge of pleasure that was about to hit. At this moment, your body is overheating and your cunt is aching and asking to be penetrated. "Izuku~ why did you stop?"

"How much is it really yours?" His head raises, revealing tears that look ready to burst. "Use your words, sweetheart; don't cry." You lustfully and clearly tell him how much you want to be fucked until you're sore. "Anything you wish pretty," he says, laughing at your audacity. Izuku takes off his clothes fast, and he quickly gets to work on you, nuzzling your clit with his fingers and your nipples with his lips and tongue. All he wants to hear is that you plead and beg for him to fuck you, to make you his, to put another baby in you.

Izuku exclaims, "I want you to have my babies," while spreading your legs apart and nudging your clit with his irate head. "I want to make you my wife," he said, and proceeded to insert his sensitive cock into you. Izuku groans at the feeling and tells you how wonderful it is, saying, "You're so fucking warm and tight. You handle it so nicely and are so lovely and gorgeous.” His strokes got quicker and deeper with each compliment, and your cunt got tighter and your head lighter. Your groans are hypnotizing him as you encircle him with your arms and legs, pushing him to remain close. Your nails are also digging into his back. You whisper to him in a gentle way how much you've wanted him since you moved here and how you stroked yourself to the thought of him.

Izuku goes into overdrive when you tell him something he already knew, pounding your cunt repeatedly and making a valiant effort to control himself. He couldn't deny that he is just as overstimulated as you are. Ever since you moved in, Izuku has taken delight in the surveillance cameras he installed in your home, even today. As you match his beat, you draw him out of his thoughts and convert him into mush. Izuku starts to cry as he gets into you. Even when he moans in your ear after cumming in you, you simply turn him over, re-insert his dick, and ride him.

Just in case this is the last night, you want to make the most of it. Izuku's voice is cracking and his face is a beet red. He bucks into you, eager to get to his next release, saying, "I- I didn't know you-ahh~." You keep up with him and pound into him. Izuku will never be able to let anybody else have you since you were such a vision of beauty, and the way your tits bounced in his face showed how much you seized control.

"Zuku~ please, cum in me," you say, Izuku doesn’t stop even though he can feel your legs trembling. He abuses your spot forcing  you to put your hands on his chest to make yourself arch more. Your eyes are now behind your head and your loud, broken moans are coming from every hit to your sweet spot. You eventually release on his cock, which propels you forward in his arms while you cry with sheer pleasure.

You are sound asleep and Izuku kisses your head and covers you with the blanket, making sure to be quiet as he exits the room. Izuku enters his workspace, signs in to his monitor, and activates his room's camera. He collects the footage from this night, takes out the sections that don't feature you and him, stores it on a flash drive, and conceals it in his attic for later. He finally got what he wanted and like he said before, he doesn’t plan on letting you go.

[lover-of-mine]

Okay, my insane theory that I was waiting for the episode to see if I'm right or not. This is a lot more from the business side of things than something actually plot-related. But the thing is, about a year ago, at some point during the s6-7 hiatus, I made a post about how I thought the show had written themselves into a corner when it comes to buddie basically because the stakes are too high (the post is here but please keep in mind I wrote this before Buck bi and thinking about the way fox dealt with them, and we have since found out something was supposed to happen in s4 and they were censored by fox and we are not dealing with that anymore, I will explain my thought process here tho). But basically, I thought that they were not gonna do buddie because the expectations around buddie were too high, and it was easier to play with their tension forever than getting them together.

Because the thing is, we are talking about a six plus seasons queer slowburn that already has a lot in canon, between Chris, the well, the shooting, the lightning, the fact that they are best friend partners, there's a lot at stake and the correct lead up can make it seem as if buddie has been planned when watching the whole show. And since buddie is already insane, buddie in a romantic setting would have to exceed expectations. There's also the way that since Buck and Eddie work together and are partners on the field, they would have to acknowledge buddie every episode they were both in, something that is not true for madney or bathena, so that means that at some level they would have to be okay with the show being known as the buddie show at some level. The way that buddie has the potential to be the first relationship of its kind, a queer multiseason network slowburn, means that there will be people who will watch the show because of buddie. I know I joke about how buddie will make 911 go down in television history, but it is true, buddie will be placed next to big television love stories, people will teach classes on buddie in film school, so they need to be okay with that focus on the relationship existing and potentially being the thing people talk about when thinking about the show. With season 6 knowledge, I thought that at best they would have buddie kiss in the last 10 minutes of the series finale just to say they did it because I did not believe that they would want to be forced to write buddie into every episode and deal with the external focus on them. Now, knowing that fox blocked Buck bi and with the way they didn't even let Oliver and Ryan stand next to each other, I believe fox was never gonna let buddie be what they could be.

We have different rules now. My thing there is the way that they would have to deal with the external focus on them and to acknowledge buddie every episode, right? Well, they set Oliver and Ryan lose last season, including paired, and they let them say all sorts of things, the I love you to the core, buddie wedding season 10, giving the people what they want, there's no competition for Eddie, Buck fills the space Shannon was support to have, every interview Oliver, Ryan or Tim do mentions buddie, so they clearly don't care if people discover the show through buddie, they seem to be leaning into it even. For example, the first video we got for s8 was a ryliver video. So that part is covered, they are fine with it. So that leaves us with the acknowledging buddie every episode. They are doing that. I think everyone knows I'm doing the buddie supercuts by now (if not you can find the ones that are done here), but I wrote a meta about this, something that happened in s7 that was not true in the previous seasons is the fact that buddie has at least one moment every single episode, 1 we had the whole partnership/co-parent thing, 2 we had the thing at the locker room, 3 we had them finishing each other sentences while moving around each other during the rescue, 4 and 5 I don't even need to say it, right, 6 we had the bachelor party, 7 we had the Buckley-Diaz family scene, 9 we had the kitchen scene, and 10 had all that partnership/co-parent thing again. So s7 proved that they don't care about writing buddie into every episode. 801 has a lot of buddie, my cut of the episode amounted to 11 minutes and 33 seconds, that's 27% of the episode, the only episode they have more than that is under pressure, which is saying something. 802 we also had some buddie squeezed in there even though the episode was about the plane. That was an Athena episode, but we still got buddie. So my whole thing with the post I made this morning was about the concept of them adding a buddie scene even though they started the episode physically separated. And Well, I'm gonna count this as my buddie shoutout. They were together on the plane, and we got that little look at the end.

I think, like Tim said in the interviews for s7, that they are trying to work a little buddie every episode because it is a core part of the show, and that is a way to get the audience used to having at least a little buddie every episode. And I think that's the biggest sign that something has shifted and buddie is cooking.

Anyway, yeah, that's the theory. If you read this I love you 🫶.

[stormblessed95]

Watching Are You Sure?! EP 1

A reminder of how I do these reaction posts as I watch things. I just write my reactions and thoughts down literally as a happen. Think more of a bullet point format. I'll include links when I can to videos, thanks to the people who twt who upload clips. And at the end, I'll do a better wrap up of all my opinions. I hope everyone enjoyed the show so far!!

The episode starts with Jimin showing up right before JKs GMA performance and interview, July 14th 2023.

Them meeting up and talking about how he has his performance in NY on GMA later. Jimin saying that he hadn't seen him in a while, their schedules kept them SO BUSY 😭😭 this trip was so good for them. And the way he caressed JKs throat and told him to rest his voice and take care of it since it had been hurting. 🥺 So many soft touches too as soon as they were able to see each other again. And we didn't even get to see their actual reunion.

JK packing up his hotel room and talking about how he never traveled so freely before. They are so sweet and so busy and I'm so glad they were able to carve out even just a few weekends for time to themselves. And the way when the staff was talking to them about plans and who would drive etc, JK said he would drive and was just sitting there talking about traffic while they were holding hands interlocked resting in Jimins lap 😭 that's so??!!

Then fighting over the AC in the car in efforts to take care of the other is so cute. Jimin wanting to make sure JKs throat stayed okay, JK not wanting Jimin to get sick. They baby the heck out of each other. And Jimin watching his GMA performance on his phone 🥰 JKs cute smile while Jimin was jamming out to his music 🥺

"JungJi" new ship name alert?! Lmao!

JK ordering for the table 💜

The absolute bickering over who is a bad driver/bad at parking. The get out. Lmao the way they absolutely irritate each other on purpose is amazing and soooo best friends/might as well be married behavior 😂🤣

When they went shopping together and JK said they should buy the same shorts together 😍🥰 matchy matchy always!!

And an ARMY recognized them and saying hello and they were so cutely excited about it. "We've still got it." 😍🥺🥰

JK ordering for them again at the brewery 🥰 and I love that they went to an LGBTQ friendly brewery for one of their first hang out spots. Some ARMYs went and talked to the people working and said they everyone said Jikook were super polite, no one had recognized them and they kept to themselves a bit and just had some phones/go pros for recording.

The way that they also started talking about how this was their trip before military service. And how JK started bonking Jimin over the head with his camera when he mentioned it. Jimin was giggling but you KNOW that they was emotional from it too. This was when they were thinking there was still a chance they would be separated for 2 years. I know they were anxious to get to cherish this time spent together. I know it meant SO much to them both and probably so much to JK that Jimin traveled all this way and made it happen.

The way that JKs kayak tipped over immediately and Jimin just was cackling as he continued to paddle away and the staff were fishing JK out of the lake 🤣🤣🤣 just for JK to furiously row up on him and be like "you have your phone?? Tip over!!" 🤣🤣 They are so funny and cute! And Jimin taking a photo of his baby 💜 the way Jimin spent the whole time on the water just laughing and smiling fondly at everything JK would do. It's so freaking sweet. They just really had so much fun together being silly and goofy.

Not Jimin giving JK the "you come here often?" Pick up line and the immediate roleplay they both get into 😅🤣😂 they really can't go too long without at least a little bit of flirting lol

We know there was a getaway cabin with a 2 bed option but Jikook picked the one with just one bed. Lmfao good for them. Hey BH, we know you have no issues with filming the members while they sleep, even while they share the bed. How come we got zero footage of Jikook sharing the bed? 😂😂

Jimin being like "JK, you are a good cook 🥺" and Jungkook just immediately getting to work on cooking them dinner 🥺💜 although when Jimin asked for a taste, why did JK feed him from his FINGER?! Lmfao and what the hell was the noise he made when Jimin licked his finger 😂🤣 half moan, half laugh? I don't even know lmao

And the way he ran to go feed Jimin a piece of the chicken because he was proud of how his cooking was turning out. Sooo cute. Jimin accidentally dropped a piece of chicken and acted like he committed a great offence 😭😂 the way they spilt dinner duties though was so cutely domestic.

JK speaking directly to the camera to speak to the viewers. Man has done too many hours long live streams. Lmao he is too used to just chatting with ARMYs 🤣😂 that was adorable and Jimin thought so too. And the way Jimin goes "I miss V" and JK immediately is like "let's call him!" Anything to make Jimin smile! But they clearly cut so much of that convo, BH, give me my members loving each other istg I miss them too much. And don't even get me started on the yoonminkook conversation. I genuinely almost teared up. I miss BTS so much 😭 their laughter is healing

Jimin getting a stomach bug 😭😭 my poor baby. And the screen just going black while Jikook cuddle?? The give us minimal Audio and a black screen and then they cut away entirely and we KNOW they are cuddling. Lmfao TF BH!! We know they cuddle, where is my fanservice?! And JK turned over at some point and elbowed Jimin in the nose. You KNOW they were all up in each other's business on that bed for that to happen 😂😂😂

And my poor Jimmie... He feels so bad 😭😭 JK is taking such sweet care of him though.

JK outside stacking rocks while Jimin rests is giving me Yumi vibes. Lmfao I love him (and her!) SO MUCH! The way he prayed after too for a good trip with Jimin. The rock tower is also (correct me here if needed) a way to pray for someone's health and well-being. My poor sick Jiminie. Yumi also used the rock towers as ways to pray and communicate with her Gods.

Wrap up thoughts?

Not much I haven't already said honestly. Lol but just more emphasis on how special this trip is, both to Jikook themselves and for us to have it shared with us. This IS comfort TV. They bring each other such peace and happiness. They both banter and tease and have such fun. They both baby the heck out of the other. JK taking care of a sick Jimin was soooo nice seeing. The way Jimin wasn't feeling good, but rallied in order to have a good time for their weekend away.

It's also interesting that so much of this is honestly filmed from GoPro. They have some staff and crew there, but from what I've seen it's a smaller number than normally goes to film these shows and they are left alone with just installed cameras fairly often. That's extra nice for them. 💜

I am and forever will be salty about all the cuts. The Tae face time was cut short, the cuddling was cut, so much was cut. Which duh, I get why. But I still want more 😂 looking forward to the behinds to see if we get anything more. That black screen cut from them cuddling though was 👀👀😂😂

JK was such a good leader and took charge so much so far this trip. It was cool to see, Jimin ALSO thought so! The way he was speak for both of them, drove them around, ordered food and drinks for them, gave dinner prep instructions. Gave Jimin his medicine.... I'm not saying it's hyung behavior.... But... Lol also I did notice that there was a pretty even split of address between him calling Jimin hyung, or just by his name. Along with all the little random bits of flirting sprinkled through the episode lol so cute..

Hope you guys enjoyed it!! And thanks for reading all my random thoughts! Onto episode 2!

[theloneotaku158]

As of Batman: The Brave and the Bold #12, local precious-gremlin-who-I-would-die-for, Maps Mizoguchi, is now officially(?) the sixth Robin. Or at the very least, she's now "in" on The Secret™.

If this isn’t a set up for her taking up the Robin mantle officially then I genuinely don’t know what is.

As one of the twelve Gotham Academy enjoyers in existence, I am having the extremely normal reaction of "FUCKING FINALLY! LET'S FUCKING GOOOOO--!"

In all honesty, I'd be lying if I said I hadn't seen this coming from miles away. Like, Maps has appeared in a number of seemingly random cameo roles recently, including Batgirls (2021), and even technically as Robin in the backup issues of Batman (2016) #119-121, and in a short story in Batman Black & White. And most of those got collected in a standalone titled "Maps of Mystery", which specifically gathered all her appearances as Robin (and the Gotham Academy Belle Reve story).

And then, of course, her recent time-travelling Future-Trunks-esque appearance in Birds of Prey (2023), as the tech-based Meridian, from a potential future timeline where she apparently makes it as a superhero using gadgets she apparently designed, proving that she's hero material.

That's not something you do for a character for no reason. That's the sort of thing you do when you want to keep a character in the conscience of your readers for whatever reason, because you have bigger plans for them.

Also interesting to consider that, in the "Mother's Day" story where this took place, Alfred is standing right there and not lying down six feet under wood, dirt and a stone slab, and that Bruce is in the old Batcave under the manor so he still has Money™. So we must assume this was some nebulous time in the past (after GA: Second Semester(?), but before City of Bane)... which I won't bother to analyse the exact timeframe of because DC doesn't care about the post-Flashpoint / New 52 / Rebirth / Prime Earth / idfk / Dawn of DC timeline, so neither should I.

But I think it's really funny that this presumably means Maps has known The Secret™ for a long time relative to present-day comics, but always acted like she didn't.

But if all her appearances are in chronological order, that means Bruce is only the fourth Bat whose identity she discovered.

Like, she discovered Cass' identity almost by accident on a trip to the zoo, Damian showed off his grapple gun and gave her an actual Batarang during the three hours he was enrolled in the school (as if she wouldn't immediately put two-and-two together even back then), and she even found out Terry fucking McGuinness would become Batman in a future via a time-travelling grandfather clock.

No I did not make that last part up. Read Gotham Academy istg.

Did Cass know that Maps had been acting as a Robin when she met her, both at the zoo in Batgirls and her future version in Birds of Prey?

Does Damian know the one (1) friend(?) he made in Gotham Academy is potentially in the running for his job?

Is Bruce himself aware that she knows as much about their identities as she currently does?

How is DC going to retcon this so it all makes sense in the barely-functioning canon of the modern DC universe?

I'm digressing. Where was I going with this?

Point is, she's destined to become a Robin, and I'm glad DC finally pulled their fingers out their asses and capitalised on that destiny.

Let's just hope it doesn't take another year for them to follow up on this plotline again.

Bonus: Jason Todd, after learning of Bruce taking yet another happy kid under his wing as yet another Robin, giving her some advice:

[flightfoot]

How Alya's mistreated by the saltdom and the writers

I've written this for the @yall-hate-kids-tourney, but figured that I'd publish it on my own tumblr as well for an easy reference point for others who want to illustrate how badly Alya's been treated - mostly by the fandom, but she's been somewhat screwed over by the writing as well. I've written it so that even people who have never heard of Miraculous before can understand my problems with the way Alya's often depicted, and I will probably use this essay for that purpose repeatedly in the future. It's over 4500 words, so buckle up!

---

The amount of hatred Alya gets in the fandom is absolutely insane. There are over 800 fics tagged with "Alya Cesaire Bashing", and that's just the ones that actually TAG it - many of them either use a a non-canonical tag or just take their demonization of her as canon. It's not just that a lot of fics bash her either, but that the fics that bash her are disproportionately popular. If you go through the "Miraculous Ladybug" tag on AO3 and sort by kudos, I'd say around a third of the top 500 most popular fics use this gross caricature of her in order to justify inflicting some sort of insane punishment on her, or at least replacing her with "better" friends and leaving her to wail in despair.

Basically, Alya is the best friend of the main character, Marinette. She's really into superheroes and aims to be a reporter someday, to the point that the first time a supervillain cropped up in the series, she immediately got out her bike and cycled after him so that she could be there when a superhero showed up to fight him (Lois Lane would be proud). She runs a blog called the "Ladyblog" which reports on what the superheroes are doing, and sometimes makes some fun videos, like about the most impressive feats of one of the superheroes. 

More relevantly though, she acts as Marinette's support a lot of the time, often being the one to push her to confess her feelings to Adrien, to help her with plans she comes up with, to talk things out with if she's having trouble processing something, and trying to act as the voice of reason if Marinette's gotten to into her own head. It can sometimes head into Black Best Friend territory of having her mostly stick around to support her bestie, but she DOES get a decent amount of screentime and focus at least.

Then the first episode of season 3 aired, and the fandom went BALLISTIC.

This character, Lila, debuted back at the end of season 1 as being this attention-seeking liar who pretended that she knew a lot more famous people than she actually did, including being best friends with Ladybug. Alya, being a naive 14-year-old, believed her and put Lila's interview on her blog. Since Marinette IS Ladybug, she knew this was not true, though she was initially more freaked out about the possibility that Adrien (the boy she has a crush on) would find her supposedly amazing life to be entrancing and that Lila would steal Adrien away from her, to the point that she actively wanted to stop Lila and Adrien from spending time together to prevent Adrien from falling for her.

Fast-forward to Chameleon, the first episode of season 3, and Lila's back and lying some more, this time about having Tinnitus (which would mean that she needs to sit at the front of class, next to Adrien). The class has a whole seating rearrangement in order to accommodate the move, and because some of them just wanted to change seats. Since Marinette was late that day, she didn't get to give input, so she wound up sitting alone at the back of the class, instead of next to Alya like she usually did. She's upset by this, but can't prove that Lila doesn't actually have the disability (she doesn't even have evidence that Lila doesn't have hearing problems, it's just that her story of how she supposedly got the disability is suspect), so she puts up with it for the class period.

Then lunch time rolls around and Marinette tells Alya and Alya's boyfriend, Nino, that Lila's a lying liar who lies. Alya asks why Marinette hates her so much, since she barely knows Lila (this isn't the first time that Marinette's nitpicked at Lila's stories, but she's never actually managed to prove that Lila's lying, Lila's good at coming up with explanations for any hole Marinette exposes in her tales). Marinette tells her how, after Lila first arrived at school, she followed her and Adrien, eavesdropped on them, and then saw Ladybug show up and tear into Lila for not knowing her. (Presumably that's what she says, the episode skipped past her actual recounting of what she saw). Alya and Nino are more concerned with the fact that she stalked Lila and Adrien, with Alya also being skeptical that what she heard might have been out-of-context, given how common out-of-context eavesdropping is in fiction for causing issues, with Alya saying, "A good reporter always verifies her sources. Can you prove she doesn't actually know Ladybug?"

Since Marinette can't actually prove anything without revealing that she's Ladybug, she decides that the sane and reasonable thing to do is to throw a wadded up napkin at Lila while she's eating lunch, and when she catches it (Lila's pretending to have a sprained wrist), to loudly declare that she obviously doesn't have a sprained wrist. Lila quickly pretends that catching it did actually hurt, the classmates Lila was sitting with scold Marinette for hurting her, and then Marinette goes off to seethe in a bathroom, where Lila finds her and threatens to turn her friends against her if she continues trying to expose her lies. 

Then at the end of the episode, Adrien goes to sit with Marinette at the back of the class to keep her company, the teacher thinks that Marinette ALSO has hearing issues so she's brought back to the front (and away from Adrien again), Lila pretends that her hearing has been fixed so she can sit at the back with Adrien, and Alya spots that Marinette looks miserable about sitting alone at the front, so she chooses to sit next to Marinette to keep her company and everyone ends up going back to their old places, except that Lila's sitting at the back of the class now.

And that's it. That is, for the most part, what kicked off the entire Alya hatred and demonization onslaught. While there ARE more things that happening in following episodes, they have a pretty small effect on the demonization Alya's put through, almost all of it is derived from Chameleon and hasn't changed much since then.

So for starters, in fanfics Alya is often made to ditch Marinette constantly to hang out with Lila instead. This never happens. She's often exasperated when Marinette starts talking about how Lila is awful and points out that she doesn't have proof of that, but she doesn't avoid Marinette, and the closest she ever comes to hanging out with Lila outside of class events is when she called Lila over to babysit hers and Nino's younger siblings when Marinette canceled at the last minute.

But most Alya-bashing fics don't just leave it there. Oh no. If you look through a bunch of the most popular Miraculous fics, you'll see Alya made out to be some sort of ringleader for the class in bullying Marinette, hitting her, pinching her, poisoning her, destroying her things, saying nasty, heinous things to her, the works, and inciting the rest of the class to do the same, sometimes to the point that even LILA is shocked at her cruelty. Usually in these cases, Chloe, who is canonically the class bully (and Marinette's bully in particular) is inexplicably Marinette's primary protector against the eeeeeevil Alya, becoming Marinette's best friend and support and basically taking on Alya's canon role and some of her personality traits, despite the fact that canonically, Chloe's as susceptible to Lila's lies as anyone else, and that in season 5 Chloe actually became Lila's partner in crime in trying to hurt Marinette in particular. (I don't like how Chloe's treated in canon, but that's a different story).

I've never even seen any justification given for why Alya's so frequently made to be outright violent or cruel towards Marinette, it's just widely accepted in fiction now, even with nothing pointing to her ever being malicious like that. There ARE other things Alya canonically does that I see her taken to task over though, but that fall apart when you examine them.

One of the biggest offenders is criticism towards Alya over how she handles babysitting. In Christmaster, Alya and Nino pick up Nino's little brother after Marinette babysits him for them while they're on a date, in Timetagger, Marinette's slated to babysit for them while they're on a date but cancels at the last minute, so they call Lila over instead, and then in Simple Man, Marinette books herself to babysit Alya's and Nino's younger siblings and the daughter of one's of her mom's friends, a little girl named Manon, all at the same time.

Alya receives heavy criticism for not paying Marinette for her babysitting, for having Marinette babysit for her secretly behind her parents' back without their knowledge, and for pressuring Marinette to babysit for her even though Marinette's so busy.

A few problems with this.

1. We see babysitting happen several times, sometimes with Alya helping Marinette with babysitting Manon and sometimes with Marinette just babysitting Manon without anyone else's involvement. At no point is payment brought up, and yet the absence of such a discussion is only ever used to demonize Alya.

2. There is no evidence that the babysitting Marinette does for Alya's sake is done behind her parents' back, the only thing pointing to that is a lack of Alya ever flat-out saying that she has her parents' permission to have Marinette babysit for her, but there's no evidence of sneaking around. MARINETTE, however, DOES canonically ditch her babysitting duties by having Alya babysit for her without the parent's knowledge. In Prime Queen, Marinette accidentally double books herself to do an interview as Ladybug at the same time that she's supposed to be babysitting Manon, so she calls Alya over to watch the interview with her, lies to her that she's just gonna go downstairs for a few minutes to talk with her parents and for Alya to please watch over Manon while she does that, and then leaves to do the interview while Alya watches over Manon the whole time. Nadja definitely didn't know that this happened, because she was surprised and worried when Alya and Manon called in during the interview with Marinette nowhere to be seen. In addition to this, in Simpleman, Marinette foists off all the children she's babysitting onto her grandpa against his will so that she can run off and help with Adrien's photoshoot after he calls her. The people demonizing Alya for supposedly having Marinette babysit for her secretly are not upset about the examples of Marinette canonically doing these things.

3. Of the three times that Marinette has, to date, been scheduled to babysit for Alya's sake (Christmaster, Timetagger, and Simpleman), for Christmaster she spent the next several hours after finishing with babysitting making Adrien's 50th birthday present (he's currently 14 years old), so I wouldn't say she was pressed for time, for Timetagger, she literally called Alya at the last minute to say she was too busy to babysit and Alya said it was no biggie and made other arrangements, and for Simpleman, Alya offered to cancel her date and take care of her younger siblings herself the instant she saw that Marinette was already babysitting Manon, and Marinette told her to go ahead and go on her date and that she'd look after her siblings.

So clearly, the people clutching their pearls about how horribly irresponsibly Alya is handling babysitting and how she's wronging Marinette in the process don't actually care about babysitting ethics here, because otherwise, Marinette would be getting the brunt of the hatred, not Alya. Despite this, I've seen a fair number of posts in the past tearing into Alya's babysitting for the reasons I already gave, and a bunch of fics that make it so that Alya pressures and guilt-trips Marinette into babysitting for her when she's struggling to keep up with all her work, only to have her parents find out and be horrified by how Alya's lied to them about who's been doing the babysitting and that Alya's been getting an increased allowance because of that, so they pay Marinette out of Alya's allowance and ground her, take away privileges, just have this be used as an excuse to punish Alya for supposedly wronging Marinette.

And then there's the subcategory of Alya demonization towards her for putting up Lila's interview on her blog without verifying that Lila was telling the truth. Admittedly, this was foolish, but she's 14. Retractions exist for a reason. And yet, fics frequently have her reputation be completely destroyed because she put up one interview that had a false statement by the interviewee in it, and sometimes even to be completely blacklisted from ever being a journalist in the future, things that are completely insane and would have even the most storied and well-respected of reporters be unable to ever get a job. 

She also frequently gets demonized and bashed for "believing Lila over Marinette". My major issue with this: what she's specifically believing Lila over Marinette for is on the topic of "is Lila an awful person". I don't think it's unreasonable to have a higher standard of proof for believing that someone is an awful person than for believing that your friend might just have some biased interpretations. Alya thinks that Marinette doesn't like Lila mostly because Lila has hit on Adrien, Marinette's crush, before. This isn't unreasonable considering that Marinette's first reaction to Lila is to freak out about her stealing Adrien away, and that when this other girl, Kagami, started hanging out with Adrien, she freaked out about that too. Specifically, she called a meeting of all her female friends to try and stop Kagami and Adrien from going away together to London for the weekend in Backwarder, helped Chloe in trying to get Kagami covered in food at a fancy red carpet movie opening in order to drive her away and steal her seat next to Adrien for the movie, and when she and Kagami were paired up for a "friend-making game" where the goal was to locate where Adrien was in Paris and the prize was to spend time with him, she pretended to genuinely want to be Kagami's friend so she could sabotage both of them and prevent Kagami from spending time with Adrien. So it's not like the belief that Marinette might be unfairly biased against Lila because she's made moves on Adrien is an unfair assumption.

In addition to that, on the occasions when Lila HAS tried to frame Marinette for something, Alya hasn't believed it, or hasn't been shown to believe it at least. In Ladybug, Lila tries to frame Marinette for cheating on a test, for stealing a necklace from her, and for knocking her down the stairs. Despite the evidence Lila planted, Alya doesn't believe it and investigates to try and find out what really happened. She doesn't uncover any solid proof, but she still believes in Marinette. She doesn't believe that Marinette's assumption that Lila's behind this is necessarily correct, since Marinette's leaping to that without presenting proof, but she doesn't believe that Marinette's the culprit either. And in the two following cases when Marinette's framed, Alya never actually gets a chance to say what she believes after the accusation is made against Marinette.

Just... the amount of demonization towards Alya TO THIS DAY, often for things she NEVER EVEN FREAKING DID, is absolutely insane. Even over 5 years since Chameleon aired, fics with Alya being made into this malicious, awful bully so that Marinette can get some new friends to publicly denounce her, get her arrested, or otherwise be punished are frequently on the front page of the most recently updated fics on AO3, and are often some of the most popular ones. If you go to "Fandom-Specific plot" on Tvtropes, saltfics like these have multiple files going through all the common salt tropes. When looking through fics, I frequently search for Alya's name because she's often the first person to be unfairly demonized, so if she's safe, then everyone likely is. 

I suspect that racism plays a major factor in this. It doesn't make sense that Alya's often painted as being a violent, malicious bully and leader in getting the rest of the class to physically hurt and terrorize Marinette, I haven't even seen analysis arguing that she'd do that... but it tracks with the "Black Brute" archetype. This becomes even more obvious with Chloe, who's white and canonically DOES do some of this stuff, taking on Alya's canon role and some of her personality traits in these sorts of stories.

Then there's the standard Alya's held to for how she handles her blog. It's way higher than anyone would hold real-world reporters to, much less 14-year-olds. But it makes sense if you factor racial bias into account, and how Alya, being Black, is going to be held to a higher standard than anyone else, and be punished more for failing to meet that standard.

For things like the babysitting double standard, it makes no sense if you're actually looking at the stated criticism, given that the same criticism isn't leveled at Marinette... but it makes perfect sense if you're going off the assumption that Alya, as Marinette's Black Best Friend, is supposed to solely function as her support and that she's simply fulfilling her duties by always being there for her when needed, including for babysitting, but that if Marinette ever attempts to repay in kind, then Alya's being unfair towards her because Alya's obligated to always support Marinette, but that relationship is supposed to be a one-way street. Alya is supposed to function as Marinette's support, never the other way around.

And as for the way Alya's demonized for asking for evidence before believing that Lila's lying, well... again, Alya's expected to act as Marinette's support, and her "failing" that in any way, even if it makes sense from her point of view, is viewed as a betrayal. She's supposed to be loyal to Marinette, and only to Marinette, not to think for herself or to have multiple other friends or values that she needs to weigh. And anything that she does to go against that "justifies" Marinette intentionally trying to hurt and punish her for failing to live up to her role.

In conclusion, the way Alya's treated by the salt side of the fandom is grossly unfair, often has little connection with anything she canonically did, and has some gross racist implications, and is likely at least partially spurred on by racism, especially with how common and popular it still is to this day.

Addendum: How Alya is screwed over by the writers.

While Alya is primarily screwed over by the fanbase, there are some aspects of the writing that exacerbate her ill treatment. In season 4, Marinette confesses her secret identity to Alya, letting her know that she is Ladybug. Despite now knowing why Marinette was so convinced that Lila wasn't friends with Ladybug, and that Lila's interview stating that she's best friends with Ladybug is a lie, the subject just... never comes up, even when Lila starts being important again. It's not that Alya's ignoring what Lila lying on those subjects means, it's more like the writers just completely forgot that Lila told those particular lies, since Marinette doesn't bring them up either. This creates an inconsistency with the fanbase, who really, really, REALLY haven't forgotten those lies. 

There ARE ways to explain this - Lila lying about being friends with Ladybug in order to try to boost her reputation, especially when she's the new girl, isn't really all that heinous. Marinette lies a lot as well, even if you don't count lies told to protect her secret identity or other "necessary" lies, sometimes out of embarrassment, sometimes to to try and prevent someone's feelings from getting hurt, and sometimes because she thinks it's the fastest, easiest, or most certain way to get the outcome she wants. And yet, even though Marinette lies a lot, she's not ostracized for that since it's usually not for malicious reasons - foolish reasons at times, but rarely malicious. It would make sense that Lila too, wouldn't be thought too badly of for merely lying in an attempt to make friends.

None of that actually comes up though. Alya later, in Confrontation, states that, "Marinette, you know we'll always believe you. But every time you've accused Lila, there's been no evidence. And at worst, it was just a misunderstanding." Marinette doesn't say anything about the previous times Lila has been proven to lie, so it seems like either it was decided offscreen that the more understandable lies she's told don't matter, or that the writers just plain forgot about them.

There were other opportunities created by Alya knowing Marinette's identity that were ignored. Alya concludes that Adrien backing up Marinette's statement that Lila's bad news was just due to him wanting to defend his girlfriend. This is also a bit of a writing flaw, while wanting to back up his girlfriend's stance IS a decent reason for Adrien to be biased against Lila, this is Adrien we're talking about here. He's nice and understanding to a fault, and is known for giving people the benefit of the doubt and second chances. It makes far less sense to believe that he'd believe the worst of Lila, even if Marinette does, than it does for Marinette to be biased against Lila. That being said, Adrien wouldn't have been present for Lila's more indisputable threats and statements directed against Marinette, so he can't actually verify for sure whether or not there could've been some misunderstanding.

There WAS, however, someone who was always with Marinette, and who could actually back up Marinette's statements more definitively. 

Tikki. She was present for every threat Lila made, for everything she ever claimed. While it's possible that both Tikki and Marinette may have misunderstood Lila in the same way, it's far less likely, especially since Tikki would have had different biases from Marinette. Tikki could be an important witness. Yet that never comes up, is never proposed, because that would end the plotline too quickly. 

Alya was also screwed over in the immediate aftermath of Lila being exposed, though not by the writers per se? There was a short scene planned after Lila's exposed where Alya apologizes for not believing Marinette about Lila being a liar and generally an awful person, we've even got leaked footage of it, but it appears that it was cut somewhere between being written and voice acted, and the episode being aired. 

All of this only really affects detailed arguments about how well (or poorly) Alya's story arc with Lila was handled, its affect on the actual fanfiction produced about Chameleon salt was minimal, I saw no change in its frequency, severity, or general handling of the characters with any season after season 3. I highly doubt that even the changes I suggested here would have done much to persuade the saltdom against Ron the Death Eatering Alya, especially since a lot of the hatred against her has so little to do with the show.

There IS some hatred thrown at Alya for non-Lila related reasons - well, reasons that aren't DIRECTLY Lila related, most of that hatred still stems from people hating her for Chameleon stuff and then retroactively justifying it by looking back at other things she did that irked them. The most common one (that actually has some sort of argument to it, not the "Alya's a horrible babysitter and is abusing her friendship with Marinette" nonsense I listed in the main essay) is that Alya's pushy about getting Marinette together with Adrien. 

This is more a product of Alya's usual role in the story than anything. I mentioned in the main essay how Alya sometimes falls into "Black Best Friend" territory, and this is one of the biggest examples. One of her most common roles throughout the series is as the person who pushes Marinette to actually confess to Adrien, to hang out with him, to pursue her romantic desires even with her anxiety holding her back, and to be honest with herself during the times when she's trying to deny her feelings for him. She's Marinette's sounding board whenever she's having an anxiety spiral about... actually, just about anything, and acts as the voice of reason when Marinette gets in her own head too much.

Thus, Alya sets Marinette and Adrien to end up somewhere alone together, or tries to push her to talk to him, or to be honest during the times when she tries to "move on" from Adrien by denying that she still has feelings for him (which is blatantly untrue). She IS okay with Marinette dating someone else though, if she honestly seems to want to do that. She had no problem with her dating Luka, for instance. She DID protest Marinette's seemingly sudden interest in Chat Noir, but that was mostly because Marinette seemed to be grabbing at her new attraction as an attempt to run away from her feelings for Adrien, something that Tikki ALSO noted.

That's another thing - Alya's the character who's most frequently thrown into this role, but she's not the only one, nor even the most extreme one. A new character that was introduced for the Miraculous New York Special, Jess, observed how Adrien and Marinette acted around each other, and decided to try to get them to confess their love by faking a supervillain attack on them, with the supervillain kidnapping anyone that no one loves in order to compel Marinette to FINALLY confess to Adrien. (Alya thought it was stupid, but agreed to help since it might actually work). When Marinette, Adrien, Luka, and Kagami went out to the wax museum together, Luka intentionally locked Adrien and Marinette in a room together so that Marinette would stop running away and would be forced to talk to Adrien. Marinette is written in such a way that other characters are compelled to meddle in her lovelife, because otherwise she'll continue making her own extreme plans and pining away, but never actually confess her feelings. 

So while Alya could be said to be "pushy" to an extent, it's mostly for Marinette's benefit. I would like if this was a less frequent role for Alya - I think it does her a disservice, since it locks her firmly into Marinette's orbit rather than emphasizing who Alya is as her own character. Most of the hatred towards Alya for this is tied up in "Die For Our Ship" being directed at Adrien though, with Adrien bashers hating that Alya's trying to set Marinette up with what they see as an inferior option. Ironically enough, while Alya's role in this situation is one of the primary examples in the show of her being treated by the writers as a "Black Best Friend" who exists to serve Marinette's character, it's actually one of the cases where I think racism is a pretty minor part of the hatred by the fanbase over it, since I think that's mostly motivated by hatred towards the Lovesquare.

In conclusion (again), there is an issue with the writers bending Alya's character in order to tell a particular story, particularly a Marinette-centered story, while ignoring how little sense that makes with what happened earlier on in the plotline, or how it centralizes Alya's role and character around Marinette in ways that exacerbate already existing writing patterns in media. 

[pilfappreciator]

Brandi and Bruce’s S/o looking after the bakers dozen on their own, what shenanigans occur?

Anon this is?? Literally so cute what the hell??? Also referring to them as the "bakers dozen" is so genuis sfhjjfdadfggh—

Reader & the Bakers Dozen: babysitting solo

Includes: GN! Reader, mentions of polyamory, mentions of Vacay Lovers, slightly Parental! Reader, the Bakers Dozen

CW: Bruce Jr.

🍪 POV: your partners go off to some fancy convention to promote their business, leaving you to watch after all 13 of their kids. Chaos ensues

🍪 These little shits are already a lot to handle, so when you suddenly find yourself being the only adult in the house responsible for them? Yeah, babes, you've definitely got your hands full

🍪 Luckily, you've spent enught time at the Vacay Lovers household that things are at least a little easier for you lol

🍪 They definitely behave much better for you compared to other babysitters. Partly because you're smoochin their parents (and don't wanna get in trouble), and partly because they genuinely like you :3

🍪 But they're still little shits thru and thru, don't forget that

🍪 If they happen to have school? Chances are Bruce and Brandi already took care of their lunches and stuff before they left, so it'll be up to you to pick them up (WARNING: THE KIDS WILL TRY TO CONVINCE YOU TO GO ORDER AT THE NEAREST FAST FOOD PLACE! Unless you've got money for 13 happy meals, prepare to hit em with a firm refusal). Definitely helps if you blast some music in the van! They've kinda lost interest in Velvet & Veneer after learning the two literally tortured their dad and uncles...

🍪 Play Brozone. They'll go crazy and shout-sing along with Bruce's parts lol

🍪 Later in the day you can expect a few to come up to you for homework help. They might also wanna help with dinner, but fyi there WILL be a mess. Pasta sauce on the floor, flour all over the counters, stains on your clothes— the whole shebang

🍪 Want the least amount of casualties? Just let them set the table (no worries, all the plates and stuff are made of plastic ajdjakkala)

🍪 A few of them have some dietary restrictions tho so keep that in mind!! Luckily, you can always find a list of reminders/examples up on the fridge courtesy of lovely muppet wife Brandi <33

🍪 If the kids don't have school that day, then be prepared. You're gonna have very little time to yourself ://

🍪 Like they've each got their own interests and hobbies to keep them occupied, but sometimes they'll need you to reach somewhere up high, or for you to play tiebreaker/settle an argument, or they honestly just want you to join them for a game of hide and seek which???

🍪 "Aw, you sure you guys don't mind me joining in?"

"Yeah! Just cuz you're old doesn't mean you can't have fun, too!"

"...Gee, thanks :D"

🍪 They're merciless

🍪 They've all got their own set of chores they need to do. Each and everyone will try to worm their way out of them. All of them. Everytime

🍪 Sure, they can be a little hyper sometimes, but they're like 6-8 years old so that's expected. For the most part, they're all pretty chill

🍪 It's Bruce Jr. who you've gotta watch out for

🍪 He is a shit- stirer and I WILL FOREVER STAND BY THAT

🍪 This guy won't hesitate to rally his siblings into whatever plan he's been cookin in that feral little head of his. Prepare yourself because you're MOST DEFINITELY getting pranked. It's like a requirement or something

🍪 One nice thing i have to say about Bruce Jr. is that he's actually pretty resourceful. Like this little dude is using everyday household items like he's staring in his own Home Alone movie AKSJSJAKA—

🍪 Rest assured, tho, none of his pranks are seriously harmful or anything but like... at the end of the day, expect:

1) to be covered in craft supplies

2) your clothes/skin/hair a mess

3) to have one limb stuck in a bucket

4) all of the above

🍪 Honestly I feel like Bruce and Brandi would be surprised if they came back and DIDN'T find you sporting paint-stained clothes or with glitter in your hair. Maybe a few stickers slapped on your forehead??

🍪 The trick to dealing with this little agent of chaos is to either keep him separated from his siblings long enough so he doesn't manage to rope anyone into his schemes, or strike some kinda deal with him. Considering he's got 12 siblings, all of whom you need to be watching over at the same time, chances are the second option is your safest bet

🍪 Chances are he'll ask for something semi-illegal, or at the very least something that DEFINITELY requires adult supervision

🍪 DO NOT LET THIS BOY TALK YOU INTO BUYING ANYTHING RELATED TO FIRE. Seems like an easy task, I know. Unfortunately this little shit enherited his dad's charm so watch out o_o

🍪 He'll settle for a happy meal tho. Hopefully you didn't already cave and take him and his siblings out to eat earlier, otherwise you're spending even more money ajsjakkala

🍪 If any errands need to be run during your time there, you BETTER BELIEVE they're all coming with. You'll need to be incredibly vigilant during this time cuz these kids are even more rowdy in public than they are at home. If you're smart about it, you can turn the whole thing into a game! If everyone manages to grab everything off the grocery list in a certain amount of time or if they're able to find the best quality (but relatively cheap) brand of laundry detergent, then you'll buy each of them candy or something uwu

🍪 You can count on them to be cooperative, but like... bring the family child leash just in case

🍪 Cough cough (Bruce Jr.) cough cough

🍪 MOVIES BEFORE BED! It's a bit of a family tradition in the Vacay Lovers household. Yknow, just some way for the kids to spend time together before the day ends

🍪 You're most definitely gonna be playing tiebreaker when the time comes. All 13 of them have wildly different tastes

🍪 Absolutely no scary movies tho. They'll try to argue that theyre able to handle it, but at the end of the night expect to find yourself under a pile of frightened children who've ctawled into bed with you

🍪 Their collective nightly routine is literally?? So chaotic??? Like all of them are simultaneously trying to squeeze into the same bathroom just to brush their teeth... running in and out of their respective rooms... trying to sneak some extra dessert before bed

🍪 Literally never a quite moment in this household jshskakakam

🍪 You might have to read a few bedtime stories or sing a lullaby—

"Dad does it better"

"Just go to bed, Benji"

—but once they've settled in under the covers? Out like a light. They are unconscious the moment their heads hit their pillows

🍪 You'll probably have a mess (or two... or three) to clean up afterwards, but once they're taken care of? Dishes washed? Counters clean? You're more than welcome to crash on Bruce and Brandi's bed <33

🍪 Said couple returns home the next morning...

🍪 Just to find their kids drawing on your face with marker. Cross your fingers that none of its permanent 💀💀

Hope this was good! I know I call them all little shits BUT I MEAN IT AFFECTIONATELY OKAY AJSJAKA

Ngl I feel like this could have been like... more colorful? Like I was very general about the kids and their behavior as a whole, but now I'm super tempted to make a post describing each of them and all their little quirks! Just something fun to do that'll help me write them better in the future ;3

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Love That Burns ~ Ending 1 ~ 45

LOVE THAT BURNS MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 2,720ish

Summary: You and Logan officially get married.

Notes: This is the final chapter for Ending 1. I hope that y'all enjoyed it! I would love it if you continued on with Ending 2 as well! Thanks for all the support. I also had to include both of the gifs below.

Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don’t ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks! 

You often woke up to Logan staring at you, which you didn't mind. You knew that he had gone through a lot of traumatic experiences in his original timeline. You were just grateful that he was here and that the two of you still had so many shared memories. Though, you had yet to tell him that the memories that you didn't share with him, many you knew about. For years, you have had dreams and nightmares about you and Logan. But you knew it wasn't you and your original Logan; you knew it was you and the Logan you had met in 1973. It gave you hope that one day, everything would be made right and that Logan would be able to see that all his efforts were worth it.

Throughout the years, Hank, Charles, and you talked about the Logan you interacted with in 1973. When Logan resurfaced in 2001, the three of you had decided not to mention anything until Logan was stable with his own memories. It wasn't until just before the two of you ran off to Canada that you came clean about what had happened. At first, Logan struggled with the idea that he could be replaced but then he came to realize it was still him, and he still loved you. As long as he was loving you, that was all that mattered to him.

Logan felt like it was a miracle to wake up every morning with you in his arms. You were always asleep before him and awake after him, mainly because Logan was scared that he would close his eyes and find that this was all a dream. He didn’t want to miss a second more of being apart from you.

“Morning," you rasped as you began to wake. As usual, Logan was already up and staring at you, his hands gently holding you to ground him.

“Morning, sweetheart,” he replied. He leaned over and kissed your cheek. “Sleep well?"

“Mhm. You?”

“With you by my side, always."

You couldn’t help but laugh. "Well, we both know that’s not true. We’ve both had our fair share of nightmares while sharing the bed. What I really want to know,” you quickly moved to straddle him, “is if you have been sleeping at all. You... woke up or came back or whatever almost two weeks ago. I know that you are still awake when I fall asleep, and you're always staring at me when I wake.”

“Staring at you? I don’t think I'd call it that, sweetheart.”

“Then what would you call it?”

"Completely in awe. Entranced. Mesmerized. Drawn to—“

You put your hand over his mouth with a laugh. "Okay, okay. I get it. But you didn't answer my concern. Have you been sleeping?”

One of Logan's hands moved to your hip while the other grabbed the wrist of your hand on his mouth. He kissed the palm of your hand before pushing his fingers through yours. “Yes, sweetheart, I've been sleeping.”

“Enough?”

Your concern warmed his heart. “Yes.”

“Any nightmares?”

“Nope.”

“Are you lying to me?”

Logan chuckled, his hands moving around to your back and pulling you down. “I’m smart enough not to lie to my wife.”

“Good.” You kissed him. “We should start wedding planning. Or at least plan a date.”

“Whenever you want.”

“So I can make all the decisions?”

“As long as you walk down the aisle to me, then that’s all that matters.”

Your heart fluttered as you looked down at Logan. You knew he had his flaws, but he was perfect in your eyes and loved you perfectly. You leaned down and kissed him. Logan's hands held you firmly against him, wanting this moment to last as long as possible. It was moments like this— the simple ones— that made everything he’d gone through in his long life worth it.

You eventually broke the kiss. “We’re getting married next week. I can’t wait any longer.”

“Like I said, darling, whenever you want. I'll be there.”

~~~

“A week?” Ororo questioned after you sat her and Jean down to discuss the wedding. "That's not much time."

"I know,” you responded. “But I can't wait any longer. I know that we already call each other husband and wife, but there's something different about making it official.”

“We can make it work,” Jean said with a smile, “as long as you are okay with everyone using their powers to make it happen.”

“Do whatever you need to.”

“And we get to take charge,” Ororo added.

“But it's my wedding.”

"We know. That's why we want it to be perfect and for you to not have to worry about anything.”

Jean reached over and rested her head on yours. “Let us do this for you. You’ve taken care of us since we both got here. It's our turn to take care of you."

You gave the two women a smile and a nod. “Alright. The two of you can handle the wedding, but I still get to choose the dress.” 

~~~

“Hank, I have a question for you.”

He stopped what he was working on in the lab and looked up at you. “Ask away.”

“I don’t have any living family, and you have been there for me since I got here. So I was wondering if you’d walk me down the aisle?”

Hank took his glasses off as he stared at you. “You want me to walk you down the aisle?” You nodded. He got up and walked over, wrapping you up in a hug. “I’d be honored.”

~~~

“Professor,” Logan greeted, stepping into the man’s office.

“Logan,” Charles replied with a smile. “Are you settling in alright?”

“I am.”

“I hear that Jean and Ororo have taken over a majority of the wedding planning."

“Y/N doesn't mind. If she’s not worried, I’m not worried.”

“Smart man. What can I help you with?"

“Y/N and I were wondering if you could perform the marriage ceremony.”

Charles smiled. “Of course. Anything for you two.”

“Thanks. And, uh, thanks for everything else.”

“You two have been through enough. You deserve the wedding you want."

“She deserves it. Whatever she wants, she gets.”

“You are a good man, Logan.”

His lip pulled up in a small smile. “Thanks, Professor.”

~~~

The mansion was buzzing with wedding excitement. Everyone was doing what they could to make sure that everything would be perfect for your and Logan’s big day. The only thing that you and Logan had to worry about was your wedding dress and his suit. The two of you had got out to get those the same day, but not together. Hank went with Logan, while Rogue went with you.

Eventually, the night before the wedding came. You were out in the garden, where everything was already set up for the next day. Chairs were neatly aligned, flowers perfectly placed, and a decorative arch stood at the end of the aisle. You walked past the chairs, your fingers grazing them as you walked up to the archway. Taking a deep breath, you allowed your nerves to come forth. You don’t know why you were nervous. The two of you already considered each other husband and wife. Maybe it was just the fact that most brides got nervous the night before their wedding.

As you stood there, you failed to notice Logan leaning against the stone wall on the backside of the archway. His arms were crossed over his chest, a small smile on his lips. Still, after all these years, you were the most beautiful woman in the entire world. Logan was so lucky to be marrying you—officially this time. He watched with loving eyes as you stood under the archway. He could read you like a book and could tell that you were nervous. He could see the small flames forming at your fingertips, telling him it was time to step in.

“You thinkin' about burning the place down?" He teased, making his presence known.

You jumped, turning to face Logan. “What?”

He pushed himself up from the wall and walked over to you. "Your fingers.”

You looked down to see the small flames. Before you could extinguish them, Logan had a hold of your wrists and held your hands up. Your breath caught at the way Logan was looking at the flames. It was pure love and admiration, no fear. You extinguished the flames, and Logan lowered your arms, though still kept a hold of your wrists.

“You out here having second thoughts?" Logan teased.

“Never," you shook your head. "I was just thinking how beautiful it all is. Our friends did a good job.”

“They did.” Logan’s hands moved from your wrists until his fingers were interlaced with yours. 

“What are you doing out here?”

“Hadn’t seen you since dinner. Missed you."

You laughed at his neediness. “It’s been ten minutes.”

"Ten minutes too long, sweetheart.” 

You sighed, leaning into his chest. Logan let go of your hands so he could wrap you up in his arms. The two of you stayed like that for who knows how long, just you and him under the archway as the sunset. Peace and calm wafted over the two of you, and for the first time in a long while, the two of you let yourselves fully relax.

“Okay! Time to separate!” Jean said, coming down the aisle.

You laughed as Logan held you tighter and turned you away from Jean.

“It's a stupid tradition, Jean,” Logan grumbled. “We're already married.”

“I don't care about your opinion, Logan,” she retorted. “Y/N is sleeping in her room, and you are sleeping in yours. Then the two of you can sleep together for the rest of your long lives. Let her go, Logan.”

“Do I have any say in this?” You questioned, only to go ignored.

“Try me, Jean,” he challenged. “I’m not letting her go."

“Fine,” Jean said, “we’ll do it the hard way.”

Swiftly, Jean entered Logan's mind and forced him to let you go. He groaned, trying to fight it, but you were eventually unwrapped from his arms.

“Come on, Jean!” Logan grunted, still trying to find the mind control. “Y/N, baby, get her to stop.”

“Sorry, honey," you replied, "but this is actually something I requested. It builds suspense for tomorrow.” You leaned in and kissed him. “It’s only one night.”

“One very long night.”

You patted his chest. "You'll be fine. I'll just be next door."

“And don't think about sneaking around!” Jean said. “I have eyes everywhere tonight.”

You laughed while Logan grunted in disapproval. “I need to go.” You kissed him again. “I love you, Logan.”

“Love you, too."

You walked away. "I'll see you in the morning.”

"Yeah, see ya.”

You shook your head at his disappointment as you walked inside. Logan watched you disappear inside before he glared at Jean. She let her grip on him go.

“No funny business tonight, Logan," Jean warned, "or tomorrow until the ceremony. The two of you cannot afford any bad luck.”

"There are too many superstitions surrounding weddings,” Logan muttered.

“And we are choosing to believe in all of them. Now, go to sleep. You need your rest as well.”

~~~

You stood in front of the large mirror, looking at yourself. You were all dolled up, ready for the ceremony. The other women had left you alone so that they could take their seats and you could have a moment to breathe. When a knock sounded at the door, your head tilted in curiosity. 

“Who is it?" you asked as you carefully made your way over to the door.

“It's me,” Logan’s gruff voice sounded through the thick wooden door. “Can I come in?”

“Not a chance!” You rushed over and leaned against the door, though you knew that you couldn't actually prevent Logan from coming in if he wanted to.

"But princess—“

“I swear, Logan, if you try to come in here, I’ll burn you to a crisp.”

His chuckle pulled a smile across your lips. "Alright, darling, I won’t come in… I miss you."

“You’ll see me in a few minutes.” You could hear him lean against the door, doing what he could to get close to you. 

“Yeah, well, I couldn’t wait. I never want to sleep apart again.”

Your heart dropped. "Did you have a nightmare?” You hated it when you weren't there to comfort him. 

“No, just uneasy without you.”

“I’m sorry."

“Hey, I didn't mean to get you down, sweetheart. It’s a happy day. The greatest day. I just miss you.”

“Logan, what are you doing?” Hank was clearly unimpressed, his tone letting you know the look of disappointment that Logan was receiving. “Get out there! It's time!”

You laughed. “I’ll see you in a minute, Logan.”

“I’ll be waiting," he replied. 

You listened as Logan walked away and Hank wanted up.

“The coast is clear,” Hank told you. Peeling yourself from the door, you finally opened it. “Wow, Y/N, my dear, you look absolutely amazing.”

“Thank you, Hank,” you smiled.

“Are you ready?”

“I’ve been ready for fifty years.”

Hank held out his arm, and you slipped your arm through his. You let Hank guide you through the halls and out to the garden. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach as you watched everyone stand up and look at you. As soon as you were at the beginning of the aisle, your eyes locked on Logan. He was standing under the archway in a sleek black suit with a bow tie. His hands were clasped in front of him while his eyes were focused on you. 

The world around the two of you blurred as you became each other's sole focus while Hank guided you down the aisle. Logan swore his heart stopped at the sight of you. A smile adorned his face as tears threatened to well up in his eyes. As soon as Hank had you down the aisle, you kissed his cheek at let Logan take your hands.

“Hey, handsome," you whispered.

“You look... amazing,” Logan breathed out softly.

The two of you were barely listening to Charles, too focused on each other. You both almost missed your signs for the vows. Logan went first.

“I have been wracking my mind on what to say today,” he began. “I wanted to say something different than the first time, but I realized those vows are still true and will always be… I promise to be your partner in all things. I promise to protect you with my life. I promise to be by your side. I promise to love you with a fierceness that rivals me on the battlefield. I promise to embrace every moment with you, cherish our shared experiences, and find joy together. I promise to be your Logan, your James, your Wolverine until the end of my days. But I promise that the title I will wear the post proudly is that of your husband.” Logan looked at you, eyes shining with love and tears. “I love you so much, sweetheart.”

Then, it was your turn.

“Logan… I didn't know what living truly meant until I met you,” you started. “You changed my life the day we met and continue to do so. So today, I promise to continue to be your partner and biggest supporter. I promise to stick by your side through every heartache, battlefield, and moment of joy. I promise to always remind you that you are more than enough and how much I love you. James, you are my hero, my best friend, my husband. I love you.”

Logan quickly tugged you closer. He paused before he could kiss you, his lips hovering over yours.

“Wrap it up, Charles,” he mumbled.

The wedding guests laughed.

“Alright, alright," Charles chuckled. “With the authority given to by the state of New York, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride, Logan.”

Logan didn't wait another second before his lips crashed into yours. The crowd cheered. The two of you smiled as you furthered the kiss, and Logan dipped you. You were still dipped when Logan pulled back and rested his forehead against yours.

“I love you, my beautiful wife.”

“I love you more, my perfect husband.”

~~~

End Notes: Again, thanks for reading! I hope you read Ending 2 as well! Please send in any reactions to this as well as what you hope to see in Ending 2. Ending 2 will cover Logan as well as Deadpool and Wolverine. So that means we'll have Wade and Laura and "Worst"!Logan.

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Dumbledore, Tom Riddle, and what makes a psychopath

First of all, I'm not a licensed therapist or psychiatrist, but I love reading things online. I also love analyzing fictional characters, so why not do both and show why Albus Dumbledore shows just as many signs of ASPD (Antisocial Personality Disorder) as Tom Marvolo Riddle and that both men are much more similar than they'd like to think.

Whats ASPD?

ASPD, also known as Antisocial Personality Disorder, is a personality disorder. This disorder encapsulates both what people commonly call "psychopaths" and "sociopaths" and is actually mischaracterized often. It is a real mental disorder and not all real-life people with ASPD are dangerous to be around like the fictional ones, some live completely lawful murder-free lives. This post is mostly an interesting thought exercise and not meant to be a diagnostic tool or to be seen as how all people with ASPD are.

So, personality disorders refer to mental disorders that affect thought processes, personality, and how a person interacts with the world as a whole. ASPD, as its name suggests, focuses on social interactions. It is categorized by a lack of empathy, a penchant for lying, irresponsibility, and disregard for other's rights or feelings along with a lack of remorse.

All in all it sounds a lot like what we'd associate with Tom Riddle, but Dumbledore fits just as many of the symptoms required for an ASPD diagnosis.

How is ASPD diagnosed?

The DSM-5 (Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders) categorizes and describes how to diagnose all clinically recognized mental illnesses. The DSM-5's diagnostic criteria for Antisocial Personality Disorder:

A pervasive pattern of disregard for and violation of the rights of others, since age 15 years, as indicated by three (or more) of the following:

Disregarding the law, indicated by repeatedly committing acts that are grounds for arrest

Being deceitful, indicated by lying repeatedly, using aliases, or conning others for personal gain or pleasure

Acting impulsively or not planning ahead

Being easily provoked or aggressive, indicated by constantly getting into physical fights or assaulting others

Recklessly disregarding their safety or the safety of others

Consistently acting irresponsibly, indicated by quitting a job with no plans for another one or not paying bills

Not feeling remorse, indicated by indifference to or rationalization of hurting or mistreating others

2. The individual is at least age 18 years.

3. Evidence of conduct disorder typically with onset before age 15 years.

4. The occurrence of antisocial behavior is not exclusively during schizophrenia or bipolar disorder.

So let's look at the boys, shall we?

This isn't meant to be a professional diagnosis, I just want to show how similar Tom and Dumbledore are in certain ways neither of them would like to confess and for that, we'll look through the behavior patterns used to diagnose ASPD.

1. Disregarding the law, indicated by repeatedly committing acts that are grounds for arrest

With Tom, this category of behavior is easy to tick off. He murdered multiple people. He led a terrorist organization. He cast illegal dark magic, including all three unforgivables, I don't think anyone would argue Tom didn't do many illegal things.

The thing is, Dumbledore disregards the law just as much, if, in different ways.

The Order of the Phoenix that he leads is an illegal paramilitary group separate from the government that is kept a secret from law enforcement at large and the general population, as shown in the news article leading to the publication of Rita's book:

WHAT was the real purpose of the secret organization known as the Order of the Phoenix?

(DH, 24)

This organization is illegal in their world. Additionally, Dumbledore shows no care for the ministry or its laws once it suits him. (It's not necessarily a bad thing because the Ministry of Magic sucks, but still). He showed as much in all his interactions with people like Fudge and Umbridge, going as far as actually resisting arrest in OotP after the DA was discovered. (again, he is right for doing it, but it still shows a disregard for their law, which I personally consider healthy because it's the Ministry of Magic)

And then, of course, there was Dumbledore's quest for muggle domination with Grindelwald:

Your point about Wizard dominance being FOR THE MUGGLES’ OWN GOOD—this, I think is the crucial point. Yes, we have been given power and yes, that power gives up the right to rule, but it also gives us responsibilities over the ruled. We must stress this point, it will be the foundation stone upon which we build. Where we are opposed, as we surely will be, this must be the basis of all our counterarguments. We seize control FOR THE GREATER GOOD.

(DH, 309)

None of which sounds awfully legal. His intentions back then were to rule over the muggles and take control by force if they had to. Showing that even in his youth, Dumbledore didn't have much consideration for the law.

2. Being deceitful, indicated by lying repeatedly, using aliases, or conning others for personal gain or pleasure

There are many examples of Tom lying for various reasons, I picked out one of them to exibit here:

Riddle laughed his high laugh again. “It was my word against Hagrid’s, Harry. Well, you can imagine how it looked to old Armando Dippet. On the one hand, Tom Riddle, poor but brilliant, parentless but so brave, school prefect, model student . . . on the other hand, big, blundering Hagrid, in trouble every other week, trying to raise werewolf cubs under his bed

(CoS, 288)

But Tom lies a lot. Both at school, at the orphanage, and about his identity. He lies to his followers often and I'd say he also lies to himself, but that's another matter. This category literally mentions using an alias and that is one of the things Tom (or, well, Voldemort) is well known for.

As for Dumbledore, he lies and conceals just as much. Abeforth said he was always this way:

“I can’t leave,” said Harry. “I’ve got a job—” “Give it to someone else!” “I can’t. It’s got to be me, Dumbledore explained it all—” “Oh, did he now? And did he tell you everything, was he honest with you?” Harry wanted with all his heart to say “Yes,” but somehow the simple word would not rise to his lips, Aberforth seemed to know what he was thinking. “I knew my brother, Potter. He learned secrecy at our mother’s knee. Secrets and lies, that’s how we grew up, and Albus. . . he was a natural.”

(DH, 477-478)

The "greater good" was all for the sake of appearances, it was a deception — a lie to make muggle domination more palatable for the general population. He lied in his position as headmaster and in his relationship with Harry:

Not telling Harry about, well, anything, and justifying it to himself by telling himself Harry would be better off not knowing, even when it isn't necessarily true.

Lying to Lockhart to get him in a dangerous position Dumbledore knew he was unfit for.

Lying about Lupin being a werewolf (this one is a lie that does have a good intention behind it, but I count it here anyway)

Lying about the petrifications in 2nd year. Dumbledore was at the school last time the Chamber opened and knew what was going on, still waited for Harry to act.

Same in 1st year. Harry himself says he's pretty sure Dumbledore always knew about Quirrell but wanted to give Harry the chance to face Voldemort.

Lying to Harry about Malfoy not being anything to worry about, even though he knows what's going on. But instead of agreeing there is concern and it is being dealt with he just tries to gaslight Harry.

I can go on, but I think the gist is clear.

3. Acting impulsively or not planning ahead

They are actually both planners when they want to be. But they can also be impulsive on occasion, if more rare for them. We'll consider this a symptom they don't have, mostly.

4. Being easily provoked or aggressive, indicated by constantly getting into physical fights or assaulting others

Now, Tom can get provoked and react aggressively, although, I won't call it easily. Tom actually avoids unnecessary bloodshed when possible:

He saw the small boy’s smile falter as he ran near enough to see beneath the hood of the cloak, saw the fear cloud his painted face. Then the child turned and ran away. . . . Beneath the robe be fingered the hand of his wand. . . One simple movement and the child would never reach his mother. . . but unnecessary, quite unnecessary. . . .

(DH, 295)

I mean, he wouldn't have been prefect and head boy if he constantly got into fights. So I feel safe in saying Tom didn't get into fights often and much of the behavior we see towards his followers is fueled by both general frustration and his feeling they deserve this punishment. These punishments are planned, they aren't often impulsive and in the moment of rage (and when they are, it's only when Harry Potter is involved).

Dumbledore is quite the same. He is capable of getting angry when provoked, but avoids violence he doesn't see as necessary.

We'll consider this a symptom they don't have.

5. Recklessly disregarding their safety or the safety of others

So many times... for both of them...

For Tom:

He clearly doesn't care about most of his Death Eaters, he wouldn't mind if they died and he endangered them often.

He also endagers himself just as much, if not more; by mutilating himself to create Horcruxes.

And by charging into battle himself often.

For Dumbledore:

Dumbledore endangers the Order's safety repeatedly. Yes, they made the decision to join, but he is still the one sending Hagrid to negotiate with the giants and Remus to talk to the werewolves. He is still the one who sends them towards danger and is willing to risk them.

Dumbledore endangers Snape, he manipulates him into the position of a spy and wilfully disregards Snape's safety.

Harry. Just everything, since he placed him on the doorstep of the Dursleys Dumbledore has willfully endangered Harry — from the abuse to setting Harry up to face the various yearly adventures every year.

Dumbledore tells Harry in HBP he takes his student's safety seriously, but he really doesn't: he knows about the Chamber, but still waits for Harry to resolve it, even when students are getting petrified. He knew Malfoy was planning something in HBP, but allowed him to continue with his ploys that sent Katie Bell to St. Mongos for months. There are more, but I think you get the gist.

Dumbledore also endangers himself quite carelessly from how he picked up the ring, his willingness to go into battle, his drinking of the potion in the locket's cave, and his willingness to die for his own plans.

6. Consistently acting irresponsibly, indicated by quitting a job with no plans for another one or not paying bills

We actually see both of them are capable of holding jobs for a long time (Dumbledore at Hogwarts and Tom at Borgin and Burkes) and even when Tom leaves Borgin and Burkes, he has a plan for his leave.

Both show irresponsibility in other ways. Tom allows his Death Eaters to wreak havoc in the ministry in book 7 while he's off chasing the Elder Wand, Dumbledore repeatedly shows how unconcerned he is with the education of the students at Hogwarts (his actual job) by hiring people like Lockhart, who he knew to be a fraud and allowing Umbridge to be hired (he had the Order, he could've convinced the real Mad-Eye Moody to come teach, or even Tonks, but no, he needed to teach Harry a lesson about the ministry so he allowed Umbridge into the school).

7. Not feeling remorse, indicated by indifference to or rationalization of hurting or mistreating others

Well, not feeling remorse is kind of a big part of Tom's character, isn't it:

“It’s your one last chance,” said Harry, “it’s all you’ve got left. . . . I’ve seen what you’ll be otherwise. . . . Be a man . . . try . . . Try for some remorse. . . .” “You dare—?” said Voldemort again.

(DH, 625)

That he isn't sorry for what he did at any point to anyone. Yes, he shows affection to Nagini and Bellatrix, but he takes occasional joy in emberessing Bellatrix.

He truly isn't sorry because he doesn't care. He is indifferent to the suffering of most.

The thing is, Dumbledore is the same.

He shows complete cold disregard for Lockhart's situation after his loss of memories, rationalizing it as "deserved".

As I mentioned, he doesn't care when Katie gets cursed by the necklace or when students get petrified in 2nd year. He allows it to happen because it isn't happening to anyone important.

Dumbledore is hellbent on killing Tom, on utterly destroying him, this is weird for a person who supposedly believes in second chances, especially a person who let Gallert Grindlewald live. Grindelwald had a much higher death count than Voldemort. He killed and hurt way more people, but Dumbledore likes him, so he rationalizes killing Tom, but not Gallert.

He disregards Harry's pain and hurt over Sirius's death:

“Oh yes, you do,” said Dumbledore, still more calmly. “You have now lost your mother, your father, and the closest thing to a parent you have ever known. Of course you care.” “YOU DON’T KNOW HOW I FEEL!” Harry roared. “YOU — STANDING THERE — YOU —”

(OotP, 824)

He speaks calmly and coldly throughout the whole exchange, just waiting for Harry to calm down enough so he can tell him about the prophecy. Dumbledore doesn't empathize with Harry's pain.

He disregards Harry's abuse:

“Five years ago, then,” continued Dumbledore, as though he had not paused in his story, “you arrived at Hogwarts, neither as happy nor as well nourished as I would have liked, perhaps, yet alive and healthy. You were not a pampered little prince, but as normal a boy as I could have hoped under the circumstances. Thus far, my plan was working well.

(OotP, 837)

He says he knew Harry to be mistreated (and starved!) since 1st year, but he does nothing until 6th year when he needs Harry. No, instead he rationalizes Harry's abuse, it's necessary for the plan, so Harry won't be spoiled, it's for the greater good.

And, of course, he raised Harry like a "pig to slaughter":

“We have protected him because it has been essential to teach him, to raise him, to let him try his strength,” said Dumbledore, his eyes still tight shut. “Meanwhile, the connection between them grows ever stronger, a parasitic growth. Sometimes I have thought he suspects it himself. If I know him, he will have arranged matters so that when he does set out to meet his death, it will truly mean the end of Voldemort.” Dumbledore opened his eyes. Snape looked horrified. “You have kept him alive so that he can die at the right moment?” “Don’t be shocked, Severus. How many men and women have you watched die?” “Lately, only those whom I could not save,” said Snape. He stood up. “You have used me.” “Meaning?” “I have spied for you and lied for you, put myself in mortal danger for you. Everything was supposed to be to keep Lily Potter’s son safe. Now you tell me you have been raising him like a pig for slaughter—” “But this is touching, Severus,” said Dumbledore seriously. “Have you grown to care for the boy, after all?” “For him?” shouted Snape. “Expecto Patronum!”

(DH, 580)

I think it's telling how Severus Snape, who despises the concept of Harry, reacts more sympatheticly and emotionally to Harry's death than Dumbledore. Dumbledore is cold and uncaring, he just calls Snape out for caring as if Snape is in the wrong for reacting the way any human would. Because Dumbledore is cold enough to rationalize any sacrifice he considers necessary.

The last quote was also about how Dumbledore used Severus. He manipulated Snape into oaths and bonds to spy for him and protect Harry. Twisted Snape's guilt to get some use out of him. And for Dumbledore, it was justified, it was for the greater good.

Results

So, Tom got 5/7 for ASPD symptoms, and Dumbledore got 5/7. And you only need 3 for a diagnosis, so, yeah...

What I wanted to talk about and get to with all of this is Tom and Dumbledore's similarities that both of them hate to see. Their despise for each other is partly fueled by it, I think. They look at each other and see some of their own traits mirrored back, but arranged all wrong.

Dumbledore sees the worst version of himself in Tom Riddle and Tom sees their similarities and Dumbledore's hypocrisy to those similarities and hates him for that.

They were both the most brilliant wizards of their respective generations, top students at Hogwarts, when they graduated, Dumbledore planned to go on a tour of the world to study magic abroad like Tom did. They both received offers for ministry positions, which they both declined because they wanted to be professors at Hogwarts. They both lead paramilitary organizations (Death Eaters and the Order of the Phoenix) and they are both willing to make sacrifices in the quest for their goals.

Tom is willing to kill and tear himself up to create Horcruxes because it's necessary in his eyes:

Beneath the robe be fingered the hand of his wand. . . One simple movement and the child would never reach his mother. . . but unnecessary, quite unnecessary. . . .

(DH, 295)

Dumbledore is willing to sacrifice Harry and himself in the quest for the "greater good":

We seize control FOR THE GREATER GOOD.

(DH, 309)

I just find the fact that both of them show psychopathic traits in equal measure in similar ways super interesting. This distorted mirror is so fascinating, especially because the respective characters would despise being compared to each other.

[tin-wufborf]

Tin's Favorite Sterek Fics (Part 12)

Hello party people, and welcome to part 12! This installment is brought to you by my summer cold because there's nothing quite like having a cold when it's been 100+ degrees all weekend!

Again, thank you all for all of the support you've shown this series. Before we move forward, I just want to give you all a little heads up that we are now entering my "anti-Scott McCall" era (which I have yet to leave, tbh; I just read less Bad Friend Scott McCall fics than I used to). There aren't a ton of them on the list, but there's enough of them that I feel like a warning is a good idea, and I know there will be more moving forward. Okay? Okay.

No more rambling on for me. I'm working against the clock in terms of when my sinus pressure kicks in for the day, and I want to get this out sooner rather than later so I can get back to simulated trucking.

Smoochies and squeezies!

List and links to previous/next part(s) below.

************************************************************************

DISCLAIMER: This is me warning you all that some of the fics I've included in this list may cover explicit, dark, and/or "taboo" subject matters. I cannot express enough how little I care what anyone thinks about any of that; all I want is for you to use caution when reading anything I've listed here and to please review and heed whatever tags the authors have provided in order to keep yourselves safe. Your experience from this point on is your own responsibility, not mine and not the authors'.

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Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20

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You and the Night by Hyperion327 (E | 1/1 | 9,634)

Stiles has a secret. Ever since he was ten, there's been... someone who appears in his night from time to time, someone with glowing gold eyes that no human being could ever have. His shadow has been there for years, keeping watch in the darkness. He should be scared, should have told his sheriff father about the intruder from the beginning, but he can't. Not when the shadow has been the one who's comforted him on the lonely nights. Even if he can't see him, he knows one thing for sure: He trusts him absolutely.

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Oblivious Misadventures, and Other Such Tales by Little Spoon (JaydenNara) (M | 6/6 | 11,240)

Going to college was exciting and new, a chance for new friends and a fresh start, and the best part was, there was a supernatural fraternity on campus, meaning Scott finally had the freedom to be himself.

Then he met the resident human who came with a stalker alpha. What was the point of a supernatural fraternity if he still had to pretend to be human. And seriously, did Stiles ever fall asleep somewhere normal?

--

(aka - Five TImes Scott Found Derek and Stiles Sleeping, and the One Time He Didn't)

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Theory of Overprotective Canines by rosepetals42 (T | 1/1 | 11,798)

Stiles is totally looking forward to living alone in his super cool apartment off-campus. He is. He is also very excited to bike to school every day, ready to set up an awesome game room, and definitely over his crush on Derek Hale. Completely over it.

Or at least he is until Derek decides he's moving in with him. And then turns out to be the perfect roommate. And then starts attending all his classes. As a wolf.

This is not going according to plan.

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Throw Me to the Wolves by skoosiepants (T | 1/1 | 13,493)

He feels the physical embodiment of devastated, his already too strung-out mind struggling to wall up all the hurt, the rejection—he takes a deep shuddering breath and looks down at the shredded skin on his arms, at the sluggish way they’re weakly healing.

There is nothing, nothing he wants more than to have Derek sweep in and make everything all better. He should have known, though, that something like that would never happen to him.

OR -

Stiles accidentally gets bitten, and everything goes to hell.

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Where We Belong by thecheekydragon (E | 1/1 | 16,548)

Derek rescues a little werewolf girl and takes on the responsibility of caring for her. Stiles helps.

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And The Moon Shined A Little Brighter by LuneFaitLaFolie (T | 1/1 | 17,952)

It’s not in the same spot, it’s over his left shoulder blade, almost like it’s over the back of his heart, but it’s just as big. It isn’t black either, so it also doesn’t match any of his other rune tattoos, which Stiles can say with confidence without looking, are either black or blue. No, it’s a deep red, the same colour as Derek’s alpha eyes.

It is though, a huge ass matching triskelion permanently on his body, and he has no clue how the fuck to tell Derek about it.

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Safe Place to Land by Green (T | 1/1 | 19,298)

The Hales have been tracking a group of hunters who've targeted small packs with the help of a magic user. When they finally attack the hunter compound, they aren't expecting to find Stiles, a Spark who's practically a slave, and his young werewolf son. Derek isn't expecting the Spark to be his mate, either.

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Foolish devouring things, build your castle in me by LunaCanisLupus_22 (E | 1/1 | 23,181)

“I will marry you,” he declares. “But should any more harm come to my father or my people, I will raze the earth itself until I feel the lifeblood drain from your corpse and paint my skin with it.”

It is not an idle warning, but from the princeling it has none of the desired effect. Derek feels no fear, but in this instance at least diplomacy triumphed over the spilling of more blood. It is all the same to him anyway. But Regent Peter was most insistent they avoid a drawn-out, gruelling war.

“Then we have reached an accord.”

Or the barbarian sterek war AU that nobody asked for.

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She Walks in Beauty series by breakaway71 (2 works | G-T | 29,144)

1. Innocence (G | 1/1 | 964) Claudia wonders, sometimes. 2. All That's Best of Dark and Bright (T | 1/1 | 28,180) It's not a gender identity crisis if you've known all along what the problem is. If you've been purposely trying to ignore it since you were old enough to consciously make that choice. But what happens after that, when you finally learn how to let go?

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No Rest For The Wicked (Love is Kind) by midnightcas (G | 11/11 | 31,328)

When a homeless, scared for his life, kid attempts to hold up Stiles Stilinski's bakery, the last thing he expected was to be offered a muffin...or a job. . . . "I have a feeling that you don’t want to be a felon on the run from the cops your whole life. Especially over such a stupid thing like robbing a bakery. Murder I’d get, but this?”

“Well," his eyes fall to the gun, "I might murder you.”

Stiles swallowed.

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The Accidental Hale Brood by Julibean19 (M | 1/1 | 42,370)

“I know, I just…” Derek trailed off, rubbing his forehead with both hands, frustrated that the right words weren’t coming to him.

“What?” Stiles asked honestly, pulling on one of Derek’s wrists until he could see his expression again.

Derek’s heart pounded in his chest so loud he figured even Stiles could hear it. He inhaled deeply and let the air out slowly through his nose, trying to keep his voice even. “When we take them places, and spend time with them, and make them smile… it feels like…”

“It feels like they’re yours,” Stiles finished for him, licking his lips before snagging the bottom one between his teeth.

“No,” Derek said, taking Stiles by surprise. “It feels like they’re ours.”

“Oh,” Stiles said simply, mouth still slightly open while he contemplated Derek’s words.

Or, the one in which Stiles and Derek have been BCPD partners for years when they are assigned Halloween duty and run into a couple of kids from the orphanage. One fake marriage and two real adoptions later, they somehow become a family.

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Ain't no rest for the wicked by MBlack93 (E | 8/8 | 46,463)

''What the hell happened, Stiles?!'' He hisses.

Stiles tries not to flinch from his dad's tone, but he fails miserably.

''I don't know, I don't know, I don't know, I - I woke up and everything in my room was in flames, even the bed, dad, I - I don't know what is happening.''

As soon as he said it, his dad's face closes off.

''You're telling me that you don't know? You didn't remember? Is it possible that you're - you're poss-''

''NO! No, no! No! It can't be. It just can't.''

''But you don't remember Stiles. You don't know what happened.'' His dad remembers him. His eyes are boring into Stiles's.

Stiles falters because no, he doesn't remember, he doesn't know what is happening, but the Nogitsune is gone, he saw it happening, he knows it's gone. He can't be possessed any more.

''Dad-'' before he can finish his sentence, his dad lets out a weary sigh. And a sob escapes his dad when he looks at the burning house.

''I - I don't know if I can deal with this son.'' His dad confesses. And - and that's it. Stiles stops doing anything for a moment until a sob escapes him, and he can feel his heart break into a million pieces.

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I'll be right back (in 24 years) by AnaIsFangirling (Ana_K_Lee) (T | 35/35 | 48,190)

When Derek thought about time travel – and he did, a lot – this was not what he'd had in mind. He'd thought he would see his younger self, tell him to leave Paige alone and NEVER trust Kate Argent. He'd thought he’d get to come back once that was done and everything would be perfect. He never imagined having to relive his entire life.

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Those Are The Days That Bind Us series by s_a_m (3 works | T-M | 63,389)

The series follows Stiles as he struggles to deal with the trauma, heartbreak and betrayals that cause him to run away from Beacon Hills, and the adventures that come during his time away.

[Subsequent parts are in progress and will be posted upon completion.]

1. Those Are The Days That Bind Us (M | 5/5 | 52,171) His father wasn’t stupid. He was an officer of the law, trained to look for patterns. He confronted Stiles about werewolves and they shouted and Stiles tried to explain but his father was so, so, so mad, more mad than Stiles had ever seen him, ever in all his life and then his father looked at him and said, “It’s like you’re not my son anymore.” And Stiles broke. 2. You Have One New Message (T | 1/1 | 5,093) A flash in the corner of John’s eye caught his attention. The home phone had a message. He hit play. ‘You have one new message.’ “Uh, hey Dad. It’s uh, its Stiles.” 3. Himmelfahrtskommando (M | 1/1 | 6,125) She can’t help but laughing at the growing knowledge that her whole life has likely just been one long suicide mission.

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stuck in reverse by crazyassmurdererwall (smartalli) (E | 1/1 | 65,656)

Look, Derek is the worst. Everyone knows that. Their fearless leader is a total and complete failwolf.

Which means the rest of them? Are kind of the worst too. They’re a ramshackle, slap dashed, sorry excuse for a pack that’s about a half second away from getting one of them killed. And this is a problem, because Stiles would really like to survive high school. Thanks.

Still, nobody deserves what Derek has gone through. Nobody.

And it’s about time somebody told him that.

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Just the Same by foxlavender (G | 7/7 | 68,066)

Something is seriously up with the captain of the lacrosse team. There's just no way Derek Hale is human. *** “I was wondering if you're even human. You move so quickly. I mean, it's ridiculously fast. No human should be able to move that fast, y'know? It's unfair for us. I mean, it's obvious you work out, and I don't, so that could be why, but like...I was just wondering if you were human, that's all.”

“Stop talking, Stilinski, or I'll—”

“Put me on the bench all season?” Stiles asks knowing full well that Derek Hale can't threaten him with shit.

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The Fox & The Wolf by Dexterous_Sinistrous (E | 10/10 | 79,151)

The war between the fox and wolf clans has raged for centuries, ignited in a time before anyone can remember. Now both clans—tired of the bloodshed and hate—are searching for a way to end the war.

Crowned prince Stiles Stilinski—heir to the fox clan—has agreed with his father to meet with the Hales, the ruling royal family over the wolf clan. Under the counseling of the Druids, both clans are presented with a solution to the war: unite the Stilinski and Hale clans through marriage. To quell their people's anger, both Stiles and Derek—eldest living Hale Alpha—are urged to accept the other as an equal; as their mate.

For the sake of their people, both houses make the ultimate sacrifice by choosing duty over love. But, out of what was first assumed to be compromised, quickly turns to be a better match than either could have hoped for. But not all is easy for either clan, as some members refuse to believe that the war could end so easily.

[Update: I'm stating here, because some people aren't reading the author note at the beginning, this story was inspired by/based on Amelia Atwater-Rhodes' Hawksong]

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Didn't See That Coming by knittersrevolt (E | 43/43 | 83,838)

Stiles leaves Beacon Hills in the dust after he catches his husband cheating on him.

He finds his way to New York where he starts working for the Hale House Nursery, accidentally adopts a werewolf baby (through no fault of his own thank-you-very-much), and somehow starts training to be an Exorcist Emissary. So, in general, life was going good.

Then he hears that demons have found their way into his hometown. Can he face his inner demons and go back to save the day?

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I know that you love me, even when I lose my head by LunaCanisLupus_22 (E | 13/13 | 135,585)

“We’re not mates, Cora,” he insists. “I mean look at him-“

“Ouch,” the kid says, no longer pushing that shit eating grin.

“He’s- he’s,” Derek tries, at a loss of how to explain why this can’t be possible. Why it shouldn’t be possible.

Or the one where Derek gets attacked by hunters, ends up with amnesia and forgets Stiles is his mate

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Manipulated by DearDaisy (Scribblesnpaws) (M | 30/30 | 221,251)

Nine years ago, Scott kicked Stiles out of the pack. Stiles left and never returned. But now his dad has been hurt, so Stiles returns to take care of him. No one knows the truth of what happened back then, not even Scott or Stiles. But that's about to change.

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