#don't twist that if you use canon settings | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

heavysighing-dreamyeyes · 5 months ago

Text

A Step Towards Him

Part Two of Betrayal. Or how meeting Gothams Vigilantes leads you to look for your ex. Does it count as a Fix-it fic if it's my own work? I do not follow the canon timeline in this. ~2.8k words

The world changes for you after that night, after finding out your boyfriend is a crime lord. And not just any crime lord. Gotham's biggest. It shatters you. You take some time off of work, request to be transferred off the case. Gordan gives you strange, worried looks over it, but doesn't ask. It makes you want to hide in your office and sob.

The world changes around you too. You try to ignore the reports about Red Hood, but you can't. Not when helicopters catch footage of him confronting Batman. Not when he's sighted entering an abandoned building before it explodes. (No, you don't throw up when you hear the news. Or let out uncontrollable sobs in the bed that he used to share.) Not when he comes back as some sort of vigilante, a protector of crime alley. (No, you don't drop to your knees in relief in front of the television.)

Your life finds some rhythm of normal. You go to work. You cook dinner alone. You curl under your comforter. You convince yourself the bed doesn't feel empty. That life is normal. Except some things aren't.

It starts with Nightwing. He drops down next to you when you're picking through an active crime scene. It doesn't set off any warning bells at first, the Bats always seem to be where they're needed. Then he speaks.

"So, you and Red Hood?" He asks, voice light and teasing.

You nearly jump out of your skin to look at him wide eyed, before your head whips around to see if anyone's heard. They haven't, the crime scene is empty save for the two of you. You turn back to him, hackles raised and eyes narrowed. "How do you–"

He shrugs, smiling easily like he's not dragging the shattered pieces of your heart across the coals. "Found out by accident."

"Well, we aren't together anymore." You huff, averting your gaze from him and back to the crime scene. You know he's analyzing you, even under his relaxed demeanor. You're just not sure what he's looking for.

"That's a shame." Nightwing chirps, spinning the sticks in his hands you know are equipped with enough electricity to bring down a rhino.

You can't help the wince you make at that. "Why?"

"It seems like he really liked you."

You tap your fingers against your thigh anxiously, a mannerism he definitely sees. You know Jason– Red Hood liked you. He used to say all that and more against your skin when he thought you were sleeping. (You don't relive that memory when everything's heavy and your stomach twists and you need something good.) "It's in the past." You answer instead.

He opens his mouth to answer, but you never hear what he wanted to say. The sound of lab techs arriving at the crime scene draws your attention. By the time you turn back to him, he's already gone. You shake your head, trying not to read into the vigilantes' words. Damn Bats.

There's a kid in your office. Not just any kid. Red Robin. Ok, sure, he's not exactly a child, but he's definitely a teenager and definitely should not be sitting at your desk, in your office, and typing on your computer.

"Um, hello, Red Robin. Is there something I can do for you...?" You ask, lingering in the middle of the room.

He looks up, turning your computer slightly towards you. You step closer to look. "Have you thought about using this cipher here?"

You glance over the screen. Huh. He's right. That code had been troubling you for a week. Leave it to a Bat to get it done in a day. "Oh. Thanks, that's pretty impressive work."

He grins at you and sits back in your seat. "That means you have some free time to talk to me?"

You eye him wearily, remembering your encounter with Nightwing. "I– yeah. Sure. Of course I do."

"Great!" He practically lights up and starts rambling. "Did you know Red Hood has a direct comlink to the batcave? And he saved that family from the Park Row explosion last week. Did you know he likes to read? He's kind of a nerd but–"

"Woah, woah, hey." You cut him off. "Look, I heard about the rescue and I know about the– uh, reading stuff, okay? What's this about?" He studies you, he can probably read your emotions better than you know them yourself. He probably knows exactly what you're feeling about Red Hood.

He smiles wider at you, like he's found what he was looking for, and stands up, almost bouncing to the window. "No reason. Just wanted you to know." He's launched his grappling hook and is out of sight before you can get another word in.

You groan, burying your face in your hands. Bats.

You're almost expecting it when you find yourself in the presence of the next vigilante. Sitting alone in an unmarked car, the most boring stakeout of your life isn't so boring anymore when Batgirl drops herself onto the hood of your car. You only embarrass yourself a little bit by yelping, spilling what's left of your coffee on the dashboard. She's at the door and tugging the handle by the time you've frantically wiped down the lukewarm liquid off the car.

You unlock the door. If you didn't know better you would have said the stitches in her mask turned upward.

She slides into the passenger seat.

It's quiet for a long time. So long you actually start to get comfortable with her being in the car with you.

"Brother."

Your gaze snaps to her. "What?"

"Tries."

You blink at her. She's already leaving the car as gracefully as she entered it. Okay. Okay. Definitely nothing to read into there. There's no way she was talking about him. Jason– 'no' you correct yourself– Red Hood is definitely not related to Batgirl and he's definitely not anything else she says he is.

Work was particularly long today, your shoulders ache, your head is pounding. It's a relief when you finally open the door to your apartment.

"I understand why Todd likes you so much."

"Motherfu–" You half shout, reaching for the baseball bat by the door before you stop short, gaze settling on Robin, who seemed to have made himself comfortable in your home.

He waves a picture at you, one with you and Jason together, the one you took during a date to Gothams botanical garden. The one you know you had tucked away under your bed.

You exhale heavily, far too tired to find the energy to scold the kid and lecture him about boundaries. "What are you doing here, Robin?"

"I am here to join the others in their endeavors to reconnect you and Todd."

You tense, jaw dropping a little before you can gather yourself. "No one's doing that."

He places the picture carefully down on the counter. "Of course they are. You're good for Todd. And he asked for you when he was coming out of the fear toxin hallucinations. That shows trust."

"He what?" You ask, voice pitched and startled.

"He asked for you." Robin responds, voice steady and factual. "You didn't know?"

You shake your head, thoughts racing.

"Oh." He looks unsure, you've never seen any of the Bats look unsure, it snaps you out of your spiraling. "Perhaps, don't mention I told you?"

"Course, Robin. I won't." You answer, and you're relieved when your voice doesn't shake.

He nods, like he expected that answer, but you're not sure if he did.

"Can I get you anything?" You ask and he actually looks surprised.

"No. I need to return to patrol. Technically my route doesn't cover this area."

"Oh?" You prompt, unable to keep yourself from prying. "Whose does?"

He scoffs like it's obvious on his way out your window.

Despite your exhaustion, sleep doesn't come easily that night.

Your final straw is Batman, because of course it is.

Gordan had handed you a stack of files. "Detective, I need you to take this to the roof, I have the mayor waiting in my office to hear more about the Freeze situation." He rolls his eyes, dark circles and lack of sleep evident on his eyes. "Though he should know by now hounding my officers won't change anything."

"Sir," You start, "can Montoya do it?"

He gives you a pitying look. "Sorry, Detective. Montoya's in archives. You're the only one I can trust with this."

That's how you ended up on the roof of the GCPD precinct.

"Detective." A low, distinct voice behind you nearly makes you jump out of your skin, even if you knew he was coming.

You whip around, only relaxing when your gaze settles on Gothams Dark Knight. You silently offer him the files. He takes them, but doesn't look at them, watching you instead. Analyzing you. Studying. It's starting to get nerve wracking being judged by every vigilante Gotham has to offer.

"I know you and Red Hood–"

"Please don't." You cut him off with more bravery than you knew you had.

He doesn't. You look away. But the time you've found the courage to turn back, he's gone.

You're walking through crime alley, alone, at night, just a few days later. You're not completely sure what your plan is, what you want out of this. But settling whatever is lingering between you and Jason is worth the danger.

But, danger never finds you. You don't make it two minutes into crime alley before the sound of boots hitting the ground behind you reaches your ears. You know it's him. You know he could have done that soundlessly, but he let you hear him. It steadies some of the unease in your chest.

"What are you doing here?" His voice sounds robotic through the voice modulator, but his shoulders are stiff, body tense, when you turn to face him. You notice his fingers twitch towards you, that soothes another ache in your chest.

"I wanted to talk to you." You say slowly, carefully. It feels more daunting now that you're here, in his element.

He looks around. "It's too open."

You follow his gaze, the streets seem empty, but you know Gotham well enough that the shadows have ears. "Then where?"

He considers you for a moment. "The roof. Can I– can I carry you? Just to get us to the roof faster. Or I could drop a fire escape for you?"

"Oh. Um, sure, I don't mind you carrying me. How do you plan on getting us up there, exactly?" You ask, voice pitching slightly at the thought of being close to him again.

He holds up something you recognize as a grappling gun as he steps to your side, hooking an arm around you and firmly tugging you against him. "Hold on."

You wrap your arms around his neck and air is flying past your ears before you've even realized your feet have left the ground.

He lets go of you slowly once you're both settled on the roof, hand lingering at your waist to make sure you don't fall over. "Good?"

"Good." You echo, and he reluctantly moves to give you space.

"So, why are you putting yourself in danger just to talk to me? You know these streets aren't safe." He crosses his arms over his chest, it would seem defensive if you didn't recognize the stiffness in his shoulders, like he's bracing for the worst. You wish you could see behind his mask.

"I– could you talk to your family? They keep coming to see me and I think they have the wrong idea." You tell him, voice careful and even.

"Wait, wait. My family?" His arms drop to his side, confusion apparent even through the modulator his helmet.

"Yes? Some of the other vigilantes came to see me a few times–"

He curses softly, shifting and clenching his fists. "I'm sorry. I didn't know. They shouldn't have done that."

You falter, "I didn't mean it in a bad way."

He sighs heavily, like he's carrying all of life's burdens as he unclenches his fists. "I know. It's not you I'm mad at." He shifts his weight, unsure. "It's just– you should have meant it. I'm not good."

You straighten out, upset he would even consider himself that after how much he's changed, tried to be good, succeeded at being good. You'll never admit it, but you can't help but follow every story about him, every tiny detail about what he does. "That's not true. I'm the one that's not good."

He levels you with look. "Don't act like I don't know you. You are good. You wouldn't have given up running my case if you weren't. You could have run me out of Gotham."

"You know about that?" You ask softly.

"No shit, I know about it. I know you." He says it like it's a fact, a universal truth.

"But I– I broke up with you. Without really listening. I didn't try to understand." You protest, because with all the bad he's ever done, the good he's done– the fact that he's trying– outweighs it all.

He tilts his helmet towards you. "Because Iied to you. I was using you."

"You said you stopped that."

"I did." He answers, firm and resolute, then sighs out your name. "But I still did that to you, I still hurt you." He pauses, "Look, I'll talk to the others. They won't bother you again, okay? Just– Let me take you home."

"I don't want to go home." You step closer to him. You've decided what you want.

He seems to freeze at the movement. "You don't want to go home?" He repeats slowly, carefully like the words don't make sense to him.

"Red Hood– Jason. I'd like– I miss you, okay? I miss waking up next to you, I miss making dumb jokes with you when we cook, I miss cuddling with you while we make fun of movies together. I want to– I want to try again. If you'd let me."

"If I'd let you?" He echoes your words again. It makes your face fall, how stoic he seems. Then, his mask is clattering against the roof, his gloves tugged off and dropped haphazardly so he can cup your face with his hands. He leans his forehead against yours, and breathes out your name. "I'd let you take anything you wanted from me."

You grab his wrists, intent on keeping him close after so long apart, as your heart races, your breath catches and everything centers on him. Your eyes dart over his face, trying to see the truth in his eyes.

"I mean it. If all you ever wanted from me was friendship, just someone to keep your bed warm at night, or something more. I'd give that to you." His eyes dart over your face in return, wanting to make sure you understand his words, his feelings for you.

"I want more. I want you." You say quickly, because he needs to know he's important to you. That he matters to you and what he does as Red Hood didn't and can't change that.

He lets out a breathless laugh and kisses you. It sets your nerves on end and for the first time since you told him you didn't want to see him, you feel grounded. You kiss him back, hands leaving his wrists to grab the leather of his jacket and draw him closer.

He only pulls away when you're both gasping for air. "I know I have a lot to make up for–."

"So do I." You cut off.

"Then maybe we're even, yeah? A fresh start." He says softly, tracing the curve of your jaw with his thumb.

You smile and tilt your head up to kiss him again, sweet and lazy before leaning back. "I'd like that."

He's smiling when he kisses you again, and neither of you move to untangle yourselves until you hear whooping and cheering coming from the rooftop across the street.

It's been a few weeks since then. And your relationship is good, better than before, if that's even possible. You're picking over snacks in the grocery store with Jason when an elderly, but alert looking man walks up to the two of you.

"Ah, I see this is your partner you've been trying to hide from us?"

Jason straightens out, "Alfred? What are you– uh, yes. Yes. This is them."

You grin, pulling your fingers from Jason's to reach out and shake Alfred's hand, offering him your name as you do.

Alfred's eyes seem to twinkle and he nods approvingly as he introduces himself. "It is a pleasure to finally meet you. You're welcome to dinner any night, I know the others are eager to officially meet you."

Jason groans a little, and he rests his hand against the small of your back. "We'll think about it, Alfred."

Alfred smiles knowingly at you, "Of course. Take your time."

And as you lean into Jason's side, you have a feeling you'll be making it to that dinner sooner rather than later.

A Side Story

#jason todd x reader #jason todd #x reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #red hood x reader

480 notes · View notes

blueblossomrose · 10 days ago

Note

Hey I just send this parents series,I could ask for one with the idea parents interacting with Orpheus

- Anon 🍎

Of course! Here we go 🕊

This post is part of the Twisted Parents Series.

Content: Shrouds being extremely caring and protective grandparents, post-canon, fem!afab!MC, fluffy, broken humor.

Comments and reblogs are very welcome! ♡

To start, it is necessary to understand that Orpheus is they only grandson.

Due to the sad and traumatic events with Ortho, Idia's closed-off personality and the family curse, Mr. and Mrs. Shroud did not have much hope of having grandchildren, even though they wanted them.

So when Idia showed up dating MC, they were to the point of setting off fireworks.

They almost did, but Mr. Shroud convinced Mrs. Shroud to save the fireworks for when they gain a grandchild.

As stated in resume hcs, they absolutely loved MC and couldn't accept even the thought of Idia breaking up with her. No way.

When the wedding came, they were happy, ecstatic, very joyful.

And then, the most anticipated news of the millennium for the Shroud family: MC was pregnant!

Mrs. Shroud immediately shouted: "ORTHO! BRING ON THE FIREWORKS!"

Meanwhile, Idia: ☠️

He already knew what this would probably entail from now on.

Mr. and Mrs. Shroud are very loving and protective grandparents. Especially on Mrs. Shroud's part, as she is more outspoken about it.

But Mr. Shroud isn't far behind either. He doesn't use many words, but his actions say how much he loves his grandson. Orpheus has absolutely everything he wants, whenever he wants it. His grandparents buy him anything, and create things for him.

Again, Orpheus is they only grandson. Everything that happened to Ortho and Idia in the past still affects them, even if they've gotten better at dealing with it over the years. But they make it clear that having Orpheus in the family is no way to replace Ortho or anything like that.

Having Orpheus in the family is they own blessing, a hope. Being part of the Shroud family for many years is considered a curse, for obvious reasons, in a way it really is. But being together there proved that it doesn't have to be like that all the time.

They learned how to better deal with the curse over the years, mainly with Idia's internal research, which brought some temporary solutions that were sufficient.

So when Orpheus was born, the situation was different, more favorable.

They are the kind of grandparents who will always defend their grandchild. Yeah Idia, you want to scold your son? Don't try that while the Shroud grandparents are visiting.

They won't let you scold their baby boy.

Orpheus name was chosen because it starts with "O" like Ortho. It was a tribute.

[Name] held Orpheus in her arms, rocking him gently as Mrs. Shroud finished straightening the little blue onesie she had bought especially for her grandson.

The living room of the home, normally slightly cold to match Idia's behavior, was filled with a warm and almost chaotic energy. Small electronic toys and gifts were scattered across the coffee table, the result of the recent visit.

"Oh, look how adorable he has become!" Mrs. Shroud exclaimed, her face was lit up with a genuine smile as her eyes roamed over the baby’s tiny figure.

“He’s 30% warmer in that onesie!” Ortho announced excitedly, jumping around [Name] and the baby, little sparkles emitting from his digital display, a sign of his joy.

“He looks perfect.” Mr. Shroud commented, his small, somewhat restrained smile reflecting a calmness that contrasted with his wife.

Beside him, Idia let out a dramatic sigh, as if he had already foreseen how this family scene would unfold.

“Oh, but the cap is missing from the set!” Mrs. Shroud suddenly exclaimed, pulling a small blue cap out of her shopping bag as if she had found the final ingredient for a perfect recipe.

She walked over to [Name], carefully reaching out and placing the small cap on top of Orpheus’s head, the baby’s faded blue hair already beginning to shyly poke through.

With the cap in place, Idia finally spoke, his voice slurred but slightly amused. “Heh, he looks like Mega Man.”

Ortho laughed at this. “That’s right!”

“The outfit is adorable, Mrs. Shroud!” [Name] said sincerely, smiling as she watched her son dressed so perfectly.

“Oh, [Name], please!” Mrs. Shroud replied, turning her attention to her with a warm gaze. “It’s been so many years! There’s no need to call me that. You can call me mother!”

As the two talked, Orpheus began to babble softly, chewing on his fingers. His innocent eyes sparkled, and his little nose wrinkled as if he sensed something strange.

Ortho, ever observant, knelt in front of the baby, leaning down excitedly to talk to him. “Orpheus, are you comfortable? Isn’t that the coolest onesie? I bet you’re 100% safe and warm now!”

But before he could say anything else, Orpheus took a deep breath, as if he were about to sneeze. Then…

“ATCH! ” A small, fiery flare exploded from the top of Orpheus’s head, burning the blue cap completely in a matter of seconds. The fabric crumbled into ash, leaving only the baby’s faded blue hair, now transformed into soft flames that danced in the air.

Everyone in the room froze for a moment, staring open-mouthed at the scene.

“Ahhh!” Mrs. Shroud gasped, her hands going to her face, but in awe, not panic. “Oh my God, his hair…! Ohhh my beautiful baby!”

“The temperature rose so quickly! The cap was destroyed!” Ortho said with genuine amazement.

“Ahhh... so young and already showing us his fiery hair…” Mr. Shroud murmured, emotional.

Idia, still standing next to [Name], widened his eyes in shock before exchanging a glance with his wife. [Name], in turn, began to laugh.

“Yeah… I guess we know who he gets it from,” she says, looking at her husband, who sighed deeply, running a hand through his own fiery hair.

Idia leaned over to look at the charred remains of the cap on the floor, frowning. “I guess I better get something to clean this up…”

He took a step toward the door, clearly trying to discreetly leave the commotion. However, before he could escape, a firm hand landed on his shoulder, making him freeze and sweat.

“Where do you think you’re going, Idy?...” Mrs. Shroud’s voice was soft, but filled with irrefutable authority. “Let’s take a picture. Of all of us. Now.”

"Gulp..." Idia swallowed dryly.

“I’ll get the camera,” Mr. Shroud said calmly, rising from his chair. He seemed almost pleased to be part of this special moment.

“[Name], [Name]! Can I hold Orpheus in the picture?” Ortho asked, jumping up and down excitedly.

“Of course, Ortho.” [Name] replied with a smile, carefully handing the baby over to her robotic brother-in-law, who held him with the precision of his mechanical parts and a surprisingly human affection.

Orpheus, in turn, let out a happy sound, the flames on top of his head dimming to a soft glow.

Shrouds. Always a curious experience.

#twisted wonderland #disney twst #twisted wonderland x reader #x reader #twst #twst mc #♡ twisted parents. au #twisted wonderland x fem reader #twisted wonderland x mc #idia shroud x fem reader #idia shroud x reader #idia shroud x mc

220 notes · View notes

godmadeaterribleerror · 5 months ago

Text

Chapter 1 - Where Winning Looks Like Losing

Series Masterlist

Author's Note: This is story non-canon compliant, with the two main differences being; 1) Butcher doesn't have brain cancer, because I said so. 2) All of Gen V didn't take place, because I don't want to deal with the whole supe-plauge thing. Also that's too many characters to keep track of squad. Because of this, the story will start in a similar setting as s4e5, but with different events leading up to it, and will deal with similar themes and have similar events to the rest of s4, but at an inconsistent rate. If you have any questions about other, smaller changes I have made, feel free to ask! Enjoy!

Word Count: 4k

Chapter Summary/Warnings: See the Masterlist for Summary. Contains usual tags.

Chapter title is from Growing Up by Fall Out Boy.

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, canon divergence, enemies to friends to lovers, canon divergence, slow burn, smut, angst, fluff.

Read on A03!

Chapter 2

Want to be tagged? Just ask!

You were not, and never had been, in the business of fighting your wars bloody. You fought them smart, and you fought them dirty. You wouldn’t call yourself callous; if anything, you could use a little more misanthropy in your life, but your moral compass was… subjective. You would steal bread to feed your family, you would cheat if you knew you wouldn’t get caught, and, as you had spent the last six months learning, you would quickly cover your hands in all the blood and grime in the world so that nobody else would have to.

Which was, unfortunately, not a figure of speech.

You let yourself lie in the mud, the cool texture soothing your always-warm skin, and fought the urge to sleep. You could hear someone shouting your name, strung together with an impressive array of obscenities and barely audible over whatever phase of the argument your companions were on, but god, you just could not bring yourself to give a fuck. Sure, the blood on your face was already dry, and the hay mixed into the mud itched and needled at your skin, but you’d live. You’d survived much worse, and at this point it was scientifically impossible for you to get sick, so everyone could just come back for you in a week or two. Maybe three. However long it took for the nightmare sheep to die and Vought’s stock prices to be lower in the mud than where you lay. Maybe a bit longer. Maybe until Homelander wasn’t a you problem anymore. Maybe they’d feed his corpse to the nightmare sheep when they came to get you.

You felt yourself smile a little at that thought. Dead Homelander, weak and pathetic; golden hair grimy; awful blue eyes milky and hollow. Dead Homelander, hands unable to hurt you, mouth unable to twist into that horrific smile. Dead Homelander, pretty face mauled and stupid outfit smelling like shit from being dragged in it to the barn. Dead Homelander, being torn to tiny pieces and eaten by sheep. Dead Homelander, the worst thing that ever happened to you, finishing his reign of terror shat out next to a creek somewhere.

Your smile covered your whole face at this point. It probably looked weird and creepy—the dire, life-or-death situation you were smack dab in the middle of not doing it any favors—but god, it was too perfect a daydream. You could live here forever, in the mud, with your fucked-up little fantasy on loop.

Tragically, you barely had twenty seconds in this ideal world when something hit you in the face.

“What the fuck?!" You sat up, ignoring the hand offering aid from Frenchie, glaring around the barn for your assailant.

“Bout time you join the land of the living, Love. We’ve got a fucking problem, and you don’t get to nap until it’s fixed.” Across the barn, Billy Butcher shot you a cocky grin that didn’t meet his eyes. To be fair, you weren’t sure it ever did.

“You didn’t have to hit me in the face, you ass.”

“That was me,” Frenchie cut in. “And you should thank me; Monsieur Butcher was going to shoot you.”

“You were going to shoot me?!”

“Would’ve felt the same either way, wouldn’t it?” Butcher shrugged.

“No! I’m not bulletproof, you dick!”

“You’d live.”

“So would MM if you shot him! I don’t see you gearing up for that!”

“Well, MM wasn’t sleeping in the middle of a crisis!”

You rolled your eyes, meeting Butcher’s glare from across the room. "Oh, please, you just wanted an excuse to try and kill me!”

“If I wanted to kill you, Sweetheart, it’d look more like this.” Butcher’s arms started to move behind him, where you knew he kept his gun, and you braced yourself, hands fisted at your side.

“Hey!” MM stepped forward, arms raised. “You, if you shoot anyone, I will throw you out to the sheep, I swear to God. And you,” he turned his gaze from Butcher, “turn it down; it’s the middle of winter in Maine, and I feel like I’m standing in the goddamn sun.”

You blinked, realizing that the room had rapidly become impossibly hot, and everyone had moved far as possible from where you stood. The new, alien feeling that sat under your skin was alight and sharp, almost buzzing through you.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, stepping back. MM lowered his arms, a look of what might have been concern flashing across his face, but turned away as the conversation returned to the murder-sheep issue.

You took a few steps back; nobody stopping you or asking for your contribution, fully allowing you to shrink into the wall. You felt your hand move up to your throat, trying to slow the tense, short breaths passing in and out of your body.

“Try thinking of something that calmed you down before.”

You jumped, not having noticed Victoria Neuman move to your side, and gave her a small frown as you responded. “What?”

“Something familiar. Anything that takes the edge off. Trust me,” she gave you a tight-lipped smile. “I’ve been dealing with this my whole life. It won’t get easier on its own. And that,“ she gestured to your hand. “Won’t help it long-term.”

You nodded slowly, forcing yourself to drag your hand from your throat. Something happy. Something happy from before. What had been happy before?

Briefly, city lights flashed in your head, a song on a stereo accompanied by your own hum ringing silently in your ears. It vanished just as fast, but something in your chest loosened, and the feeling waned. Glancing over at Neuman, you saw a small nod of approval before she left your side, allowing you a second to steel yourself before following.

You found yourself standing next to Annie, who gave you a quick and, as far as you could tell, genuine smile before returning her attention to the tense conversation between Butcher and Stan Edgar. The former's voice had grown to a shout, somewhat ranting about a goose-chase for the bioweapon supposedly on this farm, the latter just watching with a cold, indifferent gaze.

“Are you done, Mr. Butcher?” Edgar’s voice betrayed no anger or fear; the only signs of emotion on his face his tightened lips and raised brows. “Because if you are, I would finally be able to share my plan to get us out of this hellhole you dug us.”

Butcher scoffed, but before he could call Edgar either a cunt or a twat—both seemed equally plausible at the moment—the stone-faced man continued.

“While I will be the first to admit that an error was made in regards to a possible weapon against Homelander, I could not call today a complete waste. After all, you introduced me to this… charming young woman. The Anomaly,” he turned to you, and a shiver ran up your spine as he used your supe name. “Is going to help us.”

“Uh,” you paled under the pressing eyes of your team. “No. I don’t, uh, I… no.”

“Yes. You will,” Edgar said. “The V variant you carry is Homelander’s attempt to duplicate the original, the one used on Soldier Boy. Most likely a good attempt. And though the original V was unstable and less than suitable in any practical means, it was potent. I do not think I would be wrong in guessing you are just as strong as Soldier Boy, and likely immortal as well.”

“No.” Annie cut it in. “If you’re going to suggest we use her as fucking bait, the answer is no.”

“I was not going to suggest that, Ms. January, why would I waste such a good product on sheep bait? I am proposing that she simply eliminate our issue. I hear sheep catch fire quite easily.”

Everyone was looking at you now. Waiting for you to step forward and say something, anything. But you were frozen, mouth slightly agape, a million scenarios playing out in your head. You saying yes, and failing to do anything but start a forest fire, the barn burning around you as everyone remained trapped inside. You saying no, and the sheep breaking in and eating everyone alive. You saying yes, but losing control and hitting someone, watching them burn to ash as they screamed. You saying no, and everyone just rotting away in the barn; you yourself unable to do the same. The silence hung in the room, taunt with the way breathing had become labored in your chest, and you thanked a god you didn’t believe in as Annie stepped forward.

“She can’t control it,” she told Edgar. “We’ve been working on it for months, and she’s gotten better, but she can’t. It’s more complicated than it usually is, and it’s new.”

“Well, then I guess we should start to pray she gets lucky. I simply will not die in a barn in Maine, and unless anyone else has a plan, I must insist we start moving. Before the structural integrity fails us, and we all become dinner.”

The room was quiet for another moment, Annie looking as if she wanted to argue, but MM spoke first, his voice laced with reluctance.

“He’s right. We don’t have time to come up with something better.” He sighed, turning to you. “You’re the best bet we’ve got.”

“Still a shit bet,” Butcher muttered.

You agreed.

But Edgar was right.

“Everyone will need to stay inside,” you said softly. “Even if it works, this could get… messy.”

Murmurs of agreement were made, and you turned to Kimiko. “You’re the strongest,” you told her. “You can open and close the door the fastest. Crack it open, I’ll run through, and slam it as fast as you fucking can.”

She nodded, moving to the barn's entrance. As she passed you, she paused, giving your arm a small squeeze and you a small smile before she continued. You smiled back, trying to ignore the flash of her anxiety running through you at the touch. Everyone else began to move to the opposite side, hiding pointlessly behind hay and barrels. Neuman paused, though, looking at you with an unreadable expression.

“Something calm,” was all she said before turning to follow Edgar.

Something calm.

City lights. Music. Cheap burgers and cheaper beer. Carefree smiles. Music.

You stood before the doors, giving Kimiko a small thumbs up. She raised her hand, fingers falling from five to four, from four to three.

Two.

One.

You sprinted forward, waited for the sound of a slam behind you, and let go.

The world lit up.

It felt like a hurricane was spilling out of you, like a part of you was being ripped out and launched away. You could see the fire, but not quite feel it. If anything a chill had set itself through your veins, your skin becoming flushed not from heat, but exhaustion. Already darkness was creeping into your eyes, the effort to control the flames splitting the sky taking a toll. It was like a volcano trying to control its eruption, if any of its magma was under the control of the mountain.

But you had to. You could pass out after; you could sleep for a hundred years, but right now you had to control it.

The blood and muck on your skin had been long seared off, the clothes on your back turning into foul-smelling smoke. Your job was long finished now, nothing but bone and sinew remaining of the sheep, but a new problem emerged.

You couldn’t stop. You were burning and burning and burning, and the feeling in your skin wasn’t dulling, but growing. The exhaustion was gone, replaced by pure adrenaline, yanking you up and up, away from relief.

Something calm, Neuman’s voice echoed in your head, and you closed your eyes, trying to hear that long-gone music and see those phantom lights.

It wasn’t working. And you were only getting closer to an edge, a drop into something you’d been so careful to avoid. It was eating you, pushing you further and further. You'd jump into the freezing water of the river but it would just evaporate. You’d bury yourself in the mud but it would just boil, feeding into itself.

Sing, a small part of you begged the rest. Just sing. No use hiding yourself if you’re dead.

You gave in, and began to hum. An empty tune, your voice on key but strained. Slowly, you felt yourself come to, your body returning to your control. You followed the song to the end, and as it ended, just before you collapsed on the ground, relief rushed through you. The fire had lingered, a saving grace from your song. You hadn’t felt any effects, with no hallucinations plaguing your vision before it went dark.

————

The first thing you realized when you woke up was that someone had moved you from the dirt to rest against a tree. The second was that you were no longer naked. Someone had apparently managed to find you clothes, and though they were itchy and a few sizes too big, you were still grateful. The third was that you smelled like shit. You had thought you were covered in blood before, but that now seemed as if it had been bubbles and floral perfume. One might have thought thoroughly barbecued sheep would’ve smelled at least tolerable. They would’ve been wrong. Because you were covered in what of it hadn’t dissipated into smoke, and you smelled like a dumpster full of rubber and fish.

The only person who would come near you was Frenchie, who had forsaken his sense of smell years ago, and had evidently dressed you and pulled you to where you currently sat. Everyone else stood closer to the fence, waiting for their ride back to New York to pull up on the dirt road. You sat alone, eyes still drooping, startled out of your own head as Edgar’s voice cut through the air.

“I must say, I am glad to see my faith in you was not misplaced.”

"Yeah, well,” you shrugged, looking up at where he stood, only a few feet away. “I wouldn’t ask for an encore.”

“I am afraid I may have to. In our prior introduction, it seems you deeply undersold your capabilities.”

“Forgive me, I didn’t have time for self-evaluation when I was being kept in a fucking dungeon.”

Edgar sighed. “I must apologize for that. Though I was not made aware of Homelander’s little escapade, I recognize that you might feel as though I hold some blame.”

“Not an apology,” you muttered. “And I find that hard to believe.”

“Unfortunate, but I cannot force you to accept the truth.” He looked you up and down once before continuing. “And regardless, it is not what I am here to say.”

“I was wrong only once today, and it was when I said you were just as strong as Soldier Boy. You are not. You are much, much stronger. Not physically, of course, but overall. Overall, your power surpasses Soldier Boy’s, surpasses Homelander’s. I know you wish him dead, I would imagine you prefer it to be painful, and very few deaths inflict the suffering felt when one is burned alive. I suggest you learn how to control your gift, and learn fast. You were looking for a weapon, and I am telling you that you are it. Do not waste yourself.”

And he walked away, leaving your mouth open and your eyes wide. You stood to follow him, painfully pulling yourself to your feet, but made only a few steps before you felt a rock hit your back, and you whipped around to find Frenchie behind you, holding a hose.

“Starlight suggests you take a shower before our drive back,” he said, gesturing to the hose.

You blinked, looking back at Edgar, only to watch him be loaded into an armed van. Your brow wrinkled, a part of you wanting to chase the car down and demand Edgar elaborate, but you just turned back to Frenchie with a sigh.

“Sure, just count down before you–“

You cut yourself off as the freezing water hit you in the face.

Thankfully, Frenchie had thought to bring a towel—a gross, possibly moldy towel—but a towel nonetheless, and he handed it to you the moment the hose-down was finished. As his arm stretched out, you noticed a deep gash poking out from his sleeve.

“I can fix that,” you gestured to him. “I mean, I’ll have to touch you, but I won’t tell anyone what I feel, and you won’t have to let MM give you stitches.”

Frenchies frowned, looking at his arm as if only he now noticing his injury. “Are you sure? You must be tired, and–“

“I’ll be fine. Won’t hurt me for more than a few seconds.”

He hesitated, but gave you a nod, rolling up his sleeve before offering his injury to you. You took a deep breath and placed your hand over the wound. It hit you fast, it always did, the onslaught of emotions. You were suddenly twice as tired, a powerful and painful guilt sitting on your shoulders and a self-loathing that was familiar, but not yours, carved itself into your chest. After a second to adjust, you started to work. Your own arm, mirror to Frenchies, began to sting as the skin turned raw and red. You bit your tongue, ignoring it and focusing on keeping yourself going until the cut was gone, the skin was healthy, and there were no signs of any issues in the first place.

“Huh,” Frenchie stated at his unmarked arm, glancing at your own, which was already fully healed itself. “Merci.”

“No problem,” you offered him a grin. “Just don’t tell Butcher you accepted my evil supe healing.”

“You do not,” he frowned slightly. “You do not feel everything, yes? Just, simple, children’s emotions?”

It was your turn to frown. “Children’s emotions?”

“Oui. Joy, fear, sadness. No more.”

Oh. You hesitated to answer, debating if it was worth the lie. It would make him feel better, you reasoned with yourself.

But he wouldn’t trust you, a little voice whispered. And he’ll hate you.

You settled on the truth. You didn’t think you could stand another person hating you.

“No, I feel… everything,” you admitted. “But I wasn’t lying before. I won’t tell anyone.” You paused, watching his face carefully as you continued. “I won’t tell Kimiko.”

A look of shock passed over his face, but Frenchie nodded. “Good. Good. Tres bien,” he gave you a grateful look. “Merci.”

“Anytime,” you gave him a close-lipped smile, and the two of you returned to your group just as your ride pulled up. As you loaded into the car and began the long, tense drive, Edgar’s words replayed on loop in your head.

Your power surpasses Soldier Boy’s, surpasses Homelander’s. Learn how to control your gift, and learn fast. Do not waste yourself.

Do not waste yourself.

You thought back to the last time you saw Homelander. Though it had been from a distance, and he had not even known you were there, your body had frozen. Fear, white-hot and all consuming, had coursed through you. You had almost passed out from it. If you had been face-to-face with him, it might have killed you all on its own.

Do not waste yourself.

You couldn’t fight Homelander. You just couldn’t. You could be capable of overpowering him tenfold, and you still wouldn’t be able to fight him. You knew, in your heart, that his eyes would meet yours and you would be sent right back into that tiny white room, feel his hands holding you down, feel that hollow, empty hopelessness leak from you into the air.

But he needs to die, a small voice whispered in your head. And you’re the Anomaly. You could kill him. You’re the only one who could stop him forever, make sure he never hurts anyone, ever again.

No. No, you couldn’t be the only one. Yes, the biochem weapon had been a bust, and no one else could possibly rival Homelander and come out of it alive. But there had to be other options.

Your power surpasses Soldier Boy’s.

Do not waste yourself.

An idea started to form in your head. A terrible idea. A reckless and dangerous idea. But an idea all the same. And as it became fully formed, you managed to convince yourself more and more that it might somehow work.

Now all you had to do was convince everyone else.

——-

“No. No fucking way.”

The air in the meeting room was tense, mouths hanging open in shock. MM was glaring at you with a disdain you had previously only seen directed at Butcher, Butcher watched at you with a reverence you hope to never see on his face again, Grace Mallory looked all at once disgusted, intrigued, and impressed, and President-Elect Singer frowned as he listened, but gave you a nod to continue regardless.

“I know it’s crazy, but the problem last time was that you couldn’t control him, right? And I could. You can have us isolated, making sure we're out of the public eye and away from any possible collateral until you need us. I’d keep an eye on him, keep him in line, and he wouldn’t be able to hurt me.”

“I, for one, think this is an amazing idea. Best one I ever heard,” Butcher grinned at you. “Worst case scenario, it goes sideways, he kills her, we knock him out, and everyone still wins.”

“What part of ‘he wouldn’t be able to hurt me’ don’t you understand?” You snapped back.

“What if he blasts you with his fucking reactor?” MM pushed. “Makes you just another human? What’s your plan then?”

“That wouldn’t work on me,” you responded dryly.

Butcher snorted, but Mallory raised an eyebrow.

“Really? What makes you so sure?”

“One of the tests that was run on me was putting me in a room and blasting it with nuclear energy. They dropped Hiroshima on me, and it did jack shit. Soldier Boy throwing a temper tantrum won’t be any different.”

“And how do you think you could control him?” Singer asked.

“I can burn up to 5500 degrees Celsius. That’s hotter than a bomb. Won’t kill him, will knock him the fuck out. And it’ll hurt.”

“I just can’t believe I didn’t think of this sooner,” Butcher mused. “It’s fuckin' perfect.”

You glowered at him. “Stop helping me.”

MM looked at Mallory. “The fact that America’s number one unstable asshole,” he gestured to Butcher. “Is on board should be enough to tell you how stupid this is.”

“Number two unstable asshole,” you said under your breath.

“Thanks, Love,” Butcher winked at you.

“Yeah well, don’t be so pleased. You’re only just losing to Homelander.”

Butcher shrugged, and you returned your attention to Singer. “Sir, please trust me. I, more than almost anyone, know how dangerous this could be. But Homelander is more dangerous. We needed a weapon,” you echoed Edgar’s words. “This is it.”

Singer nodded slowly, and MM scoffed.

“You can’t be seriously considering this. He’s a fucking unstable asshole murderer and a goddamn liability. What if we wake him up, she can’t control him, and he gets free?”

“We said whatever it takes,” you snapped. “I wouldn’t be pitching this if I thought it wouldn’t work. I can control him, I promise.”

“You’d bet your life on it?” Mallory asked.

“My life?” You snorted. “In a heartbeat.”

Mallory sighed. “Then fine,” she shot a look to Singer. “I’ll sign off if you do.”

“Sir,” MM said, sounding almost desperate. “I am begging you, do not do this.”

Singer just shook his head slightly. “Desperate times, they make you do desperate things. If I saw another way, I’d take it, but for now we’ll have to make do. I approve the request.”

“Thank you, sir.” You gave Singer a grateful nod, ignoring the searing feeling of MM’s anger.

“Don’t thank me, girl. If this goes south, it’s your head. Grace, set up a safe house for them ASAP, if I’m signing off on this I want it moving fast.”

Mallory nodded. “It’ll take a few days. We’ll have to transport him there before we wake him up.”

“Do whatever you have to,” Singer said as he stood to leave. “If this is our only shot, we can’t afford to miss.”

283 notes · View notes

novaursa · 1 month ago

Text

Legacy (sun over the capital)

- Summary: Tywin was the man who saved you from Robert's wrath. He was also the man who doomed you.

- Paring: targ!reader/Tywin Lannister

- Note: Just a reminder how events and timeline of the story don't match the canon.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: bloodlines

- Next part: the night is long

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

The heavy wooden doors to Tywin’s private chambers in the Tower of the Hand were flung open with a force that made the guards stationed outside exchange wary glances. Cersei stormed in, her eyes blazing with barely contained fury, her voice sharp as she addressed her father.

“Father,” she spat, her tone filled with venom. “Is it true?”

Tywin didn’t bother looking up from the stack of documents on his desk, his face calm and collected, though his eyes flickered with a subtle hint of irritation. He set his quill down, folding his hands together as he finally regarded her.

“And what truth are you seeking, Cersei?” he asked, his voice even, though a trace of coldness lurked beneath the words.

Cersei’s nostrils flared as she glared at him, her fists clenched at her sides. “Pycelle has informed me that she—” Cersei’s voice dripped with contempt as she referred to you—“is with child. Your child. And yet, you saw fit not to tell any of us?”

Tywin’s gaze hardened, and a faint, dangerous glint sparked in his eyes at the mention of Pycelle. “I see I’ll need to have a conversation with Grand Maester Pycelle about the limits of his discretion,” he said icily, his voice carrying a warning that made even Cersei falter for a moment.

But Cersei’s fury was unrestrained, her temper flaring once more. “So it’s true, then? You’ve brought another child into this world, and you’ve kept it hidden from your own family! You think of nothing and no one but yourself, Father!”

Tywin rose slowly from his chair, his towering presence casting a long shadow in the low lit chamber. His expression was calm, controlled, but there was an unyielding authority in his gaze as he regarded his daughter.

“This child,” he said, his voice steady and sharp, “will be the future of House Lannister. Whether you approve or not, Cersei, this is a fact that will not change. I made this decision for the good of our family. You would do well to remember where your loyalties lie.”

Cersei’s face twisted with anger, her voice rising as she took a step toward him. “Our family? You mean your ambitions. This is all about your endless schemes, about the name Tywin Lannister—nothing more. And if it’s a boy, you’ll simply hand Casterly Rock to him, disregarding your own children?”

Tywin’s gaze did not waver. “If this child is born a son, he will indeed inherit Casterly Rock,” he replied with a note of finality. “He will carry the name of Lannister, a name that will live on long after I am gone. This child—my child—will be raised with the discipline and values that our house represents. And should he prove worthy, he will take his rightful place as Lord of Casterly Rock.”

Cersei’s eyes flashed with fury, and she let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “So you’ll set him above Jaime, above Tyrion, above me? Just because he’s the result of this… this alliance of yours?” Her voice dripped with scorn. “You’ll disregard your own blood—your true heirs—for a child born of convenience?”

Tywin’s voice remained firm, cutting through her tirade like steel. “This child is my blood, and I will not allow my legacy to falter because of your jealousy or pettiness, Cersei.” His eyes bore into hers, a silent warning in their depths. “You will treat this child with the respect befitting his place in this family. And you will not let your bitterness poison what I have built.”

Cersei’s mouth tightened, her eyes blazing as she struggled to contain her outrage. “And what of your daughter, then? What of your own children who have done everything for you, sacrificed everything for this family, only to be discarded when it suits you?”

Tywin’s expression did not soften, but there was a hint of impatience in his gaze, as though he were weary of her complaints. “This is not a matter of sentiment, Cersei. It is a matter of legacy. Every decision I make is for the strength of House Lannister, and I will not be questioned on this.” He took a step closer, his voice lowering but growing even more intense. “You would do well to remember your place, daughter, and to trust my judgment. There is no room for weakness in this family.”

Cersei’s face twisted with frustration, her voice low and dangerous. “You think this child will be some savior for our family? That he’ll be the one to carry your legacy?”

Tywin met her gaze with an unwavering stare. “If he is a son, he will have all that I offer—an inheritance, a legacy, and the guidance to become what I expect. And if he is a daughter, she will be treated with the same dignity. But I will not tolerate anything less than respect from you or anyone else in this family, Cersei.”

Cersei let out a humorless laugh, her voice tinged with bitterness. “So, we are all simply tools for your ambition, are we?”

Tywin’s gaze darkened, his voice cold and resolute. “I do what I must to ensure our house remains strong. I make the sacrifices no one else will. Do not forget, Cersei, that your position, your power, all stem from the strength I have built. If you truly care for our family, you will accept this and uphold our legacy.”

Cersei clenched her fists, her face flushed with anger, but she said nothing more. The silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken words, before she turned on her heel, storming out of his chambers, her footsteps echoing down the corridor.

Tywin watched her leave, his face unreadable, his gaze sharp and unyielding. After a long moment, he returned to his desk, picking up his quill once more, his expression composed and resolute.

The soft murmur of voices filled the chamber as you sat comfortably among Lady Olenna, Margaery, and Sansa. Servants moved gracefully around the room, bringing refreshments and tending to every detail, creating an air of quiet luxury.

Olenna leaned back in her chair, observing you with her sharp, discerning eyes, a faint, wry smile tugging at her lips. She had a presence that seemed to command the room effortlessly, every line on her face hinting at a life spent maneuvering through the treacherous waters of court. Margaery sat beside her, her gaze warm and attentive as she listened, and Sansa, ever poised but still shy, stole glances between you and Margaery with a mixture of admiration and quiet curiosity.

After a few minutes, Margaery turned to Sansa, her tone light but inviting. “Sansa, would you care to join me for a walk in the gardens? I’ve been meaning to talk with you about some of the arrangements for the upcoming festivities. I could use your input.”

Sansa’s face lit up with a smile, nodding eagerly. “Of course, Lady Margaery. I’d love to help.”

With a graceful rise, Margaery took Sansa’s hand, guiding her toward the doors. She cast a warm smile back at you and her grandmother before stepping out, leaving you alone with Olenna. The older woman’s gaze lingered on the door for a moment before settling back on you, her expression one of curious amusement.

“Well,” Olenna began, her voice dry and laced with humor, “I must say, Lady Y/N, the former princess turned Lady Lannister. Quite a title for one to carry in such interesting times.”

You returned her gaze with a steady smile, sensing the probing nature of her words but refusing to rise to any bait. “Times have indeed grown interesting, Lady Olenna,” you replied smoothly. “Titles change with the wind, as I’ve come to learn. One must adapt, after all.”

Olenna’s gaze sharpened, a glint of approval in her eyes as she observed you closely. “Adapt, yes,” she echoed. “But you have done more than adapt. I’ve seen how you’ve managed to earn favor with Lord Tywin himself, a man who’s hardly known for his warmth. That alone tells me there’s more to you than meets the eye.”

You let out a quiet chuckle, though the weight of her words hung between you. “Lady Olenna, when survival depends on forging unlikely alliances, one learns quickly. Tywin and I both understand that much.”

Olenna’s lips curled into a knowing smile. “Oh, my dear, it’s much more than survival. Don’t pretend otherwise. Tywin Lannister is many things, but sentimental is not one of them. He doesn’t hold people close unless there’s something worth keeping.” She leaned forward slightly, her tone taking on a more personal note. “And I daresay, it’s rare to see him so attentive to anyone.”

You felt the weight of her observation, her words cutting through the pleasantries and touching upon the truth you’d carefully guarded. Tywin’s attention had indeed been more than mere duty, and though he was hardly a man of outward affection, his loyalty and protective nature had shown in subtle ways.

“What Tywin values most,” you said slowly, carefully choosing your words, “is strength. I think he sees something of that in me, perhaps because we both know what it is to lose family, to survive by our wits.”

Olenna watched you intently, her gaze softened, though her sharpness remained. “Strength is one thing, but what you have is a gift for survival that goes beyond mere endurance. It’s an art form, the way you navigate this court.” She chuckled, a gleam of approval in her eyes. “A former princess of the blood, seated at Tywin’s side, holding his favor like a sword at her hip. It’s almost poetic.”

You allowed yourself a small, knowing smile. “Poetry, perhaps, but with a touch of tragedy, wouldn’t you say? Every choice is calculated, every alliance a delicate balance.” You paused, meeting her gaze with quiet resolve. “For Tywin and me, it’s as much about understanding each other’s strengths as it is about surviving the expectations placed on us.”

Olenna nodded, her expression contemplative. “Indeed. And in a place like King’s Landing, a partnership of that kind is as close to power as one can get. There are few who can claim such influence over the likes of Tywin Lannister.” She arched an eyebrow, her voice carrying a hint of respect. “Even fewer who can hold their own under his scrutiny.”

You laughed softly, a genuine sound that broke the formality of the moment. “Perhaps I should thank you for the compliment, Lady Olenna. But Tywin values loyalty and strength above all, and I value… survival, as we said.”

Olenna leaned back, studying you with a smile that hinted at admiration. “Oh, don’t mistake my words. I recognize a survivor when I see one, and you, my dear, are as skilled at the game as any queen who’s ever ruled from the shadows.” She tapped her fingers on the arm of her chair, a glimmer of satisfaction in her gaze. “But do not be fooled—what you have with Tywin is more than just survival. He wouldn’t waste his time or his protection if he didn’t see something valuable in you.”

You held her gaze, her words sinking in, and you knew Olenna spoke with the wisdom of someone who understood power intimately. “Perhaps he does,” you conceded softly. “But whatever he sees, it serves us both. And in a court like this one, such mutual interests are as precious as dragon’s gold.”

Olenna’s expression softened, her sharpness tempered by a rare warmth. “Well said, my dear. You’ve earned more than mere survival—you’ve earned a place of respect, even here, and that’s no small feat.” She paused, her voice lowering to a more personal tone. “But remember, in this game, allies are often as valuable as titles. And should you find yourself in need of friends… the Tyrells are not ones to turn away those with the strength to endure.”

You inclined your head, understanding the depth of her offer. “Thank you, Lady Olenna. I will remember that.” There was a subtle acknowledgment between you, a recognition that in the shifting sands of King’s Landing, allies could be the difference between survival and ruin.

Olenna’s gaze softened further, her voice holding a rare note of warmth. “Then let’s hope it’s a long-lasting friendship.” She lifted her cup in a small, quiet toast, her smile carrying a hint of respect, her eyes gleaming with something akin to approval.

The small, dimly lit room echoed with the clinking of glasses and soft laughter as Tyrion and Bronn sat together, sharing a rare moment of lighthearted drinking. The table before them was scattered with empty goblets, the dark red stains of Arbor wine smudged across the wood, a testament to the number of toasts they’d already raised.

As Bronn tipped his goblet back, the door opened with a quiet creak, and Varys entered, his footsteps light and his face calm but curious. Tyrion noticed him instantly, a grin stretching across his face as he raised his goblet in welcome.

“Ah, the Spider himself,” Tyrion greeted, gesturing grandly for Varys to join them. “Care to join us for a toast, Varys? It’s not often we have a cause for cheer in this dreary place.”

Varys inclined his head with a polite smile, stepping forward as Bronn slid over slightly, making room for him at the table. “A toast, is it? Now that does intrigue me,” Varys replied smoothly, his voice light but tinged with curiosity. “And what, may I ask, are we celebrating?”

Tyrion chuckled, raising an eyebrow as he leaned back in his chair. “Oh, don’t play coy with me, Varys. I find it hard to believe that the master of whispers is unaware of any piece of news circulating within these walls.”

Varys’s lips curved in a mild smile, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “One could say I’m aware of… many things, my lord. But I do so enjoy hearing it from the source. It lends a certain charm to the information.”

Tyrion laughed, shaking his head before lifting his goblet to Varys. “Well then, let it be known that we are toasting to the newest addition to House Lannister… or at least, the one yet to be born.” He smirked, his voice laced with a hint of irony. “My dear stepmother is with child. And, as you can imagine, this has done wonders for my sister’s mood.”

Bronn snorted, raising his goblet to clink against Tyrion’s. “Aye, Cersei’s likely to drink the whole damn wine cellar dry by morning.”

Varys’s smile widened slightly, though his eyes remained calm and calculating as he glanced between them. “How… delightful. A new addition to the family, and one with such a distinguished lineage. Lord Tywin must be very pleased indeed.”

Tyrion’s eyes sparkled with mischief as he took a sip of his wine, savoring it before setting the goblet down. “Oh, ‘pleased’ might be too soft a word. I’d wager he’s envisioning an heir that can finally inherit Casterly Rock, a son that he can shape in his image.” He tilted his head thoughtfully. “And wouldn’t that just be the thing to push Cersei over the edge?”

Bronn chuckled, raising his goblet again. “Here’s to that—no one drives her mad quite like her own family.”

Tyrion laughed, lifting his own goblet to join Bronn’s. “Indeed. Here’s to us, the fine architects of Cersei’s impending descent into madness.”

Varys, watching the exchange with amusement, finally accepted the offer of a goblet from a passing servant, though he held it delicately, not yet raising it to his lips. “My, my,” he said, his voice carrying a hint of humor. “A child born of both lion and dragon. The realm will certainly find that interesting, though not nearly as interesting as the politics it will spark within the family itself.”

Tyrion glanced at Varys, his expression thoughtful as he swirled the wine in his goblet. “Oh, don’t pretend you’re not intrigued by it yourself, Varys. An heir with Targaryen blood under Tywin’s roof—that’s enough to set even the most controlled noble spinning.”

Varys tilted his head, a glint of something almost approving in his eyes. “It does present… unique possibilities,” he agreed. “Tywin Lannister is not a man to make alliances lightly, especially one of such lasting consequence. And if this child should indeed prove to be a son, well… the implications for House Lannister would be substantial.”

Bronn gave a low chuckle, tipping his goblet back. “I don’t see what all the fuss is about. As long as the child doesn’t end up like Joffrey, Westeros should count itself lucky.”

Tyrion’s grin widened, a spark of mischief in his eyes as he raised his goblet to Varys. “Well said, Bronn. If this child inherits even an ounce of Tywin’s calculation and none of Joffrey’s malice, it might actually turn out to be the rare Lannister worth rooting for.”

Varys chuckled, swirling the wine in his goblet thoughtfully. “Let us hope, then, that this future heir finds the best qualities of both parents. Though, knowing Lord Tywin, I suspect the child will have little choice in the matter.”

Tyrion leaned back, his expression shifting into one of contemplation. “Yes, Tywin will no doubt be a forceful hand in the child’s upbringing. But… perhaps there’s a bit of Targaryen fire that might resist even him. I daresay my stepmother has shown herself more than capable of holding her own against the likes of Tywin.”

Bronn raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like you’re actually rooting for her.”

Tyrion shrugged, taking another sip of his wine. “Perhaps I am. She’s proven herself a formidable woman, and not without a touch of compassion—something our family has always lacked. She might actually bring a bit of balance to the golden lion’s brood.” His gaze drifted to Varys, his tone turning thoughtful. “I’d say that makes her quite the wild card, wouldn’t you agree, Varys?”

Varys inclined his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Indeed. In a family as tightly controlled as the Lannisters, a touch of unpredictability can be… refreshing.” His gaze turned contemplative, as if he were already calculating the potential outcomes of this new addition.

Tyrion gave him a knowing smile, clinking his goblet with Varys’s. “Then let’s drink to unpredictability. To dragons in lion’s dens and the chaos they bring.”

Varys lifted his goblet with a faint chuckle, finally taking a small sip, a spark of amusement lingering in his eyes. “To dragons in lion’s dens,” he echoed softly.

And as they drank, a quiet understanding passed between them—of the game, of the players, and of the thrilling unpredictability that even the most careful plans could not account for.

The heavy drapes were drawn to shut out the glare of the midday sun in the Queen's chambers. Cersei sat by the hearth, a goblet of wine clutched tightly in her hand, her face a mask of bitterness. She was nursing her frustration in silence when Joffrey burst into the room, his face twisted with a mixture of anxiety and anger.

“Mother,” he began, his voice urgent, “is it true? Is she… is she with child?”

Cersei didn’t look up immediately, her grip tightening on the goblet as she took a deep, steadying breath. When she finally lifted her gaze to meet her son’s, her eyes were sharp, her expression sour. “Yes, Joffrey,” she replied curtly, her tone laced with contempt. “Your dear grandfather’s new wife is with child. A Lannister-Targaryen child. Imagine that.”

Joffrey’s face paled, and he took a step closer, his eyes wide with a growing panic. “A child with Targaryen blood… and Lannister blood?” He swallowed, his voice a whisper as he processed the implications. “Doesn’t that mean… wouldn’t that mean it could have a better claim than me?”

Cersei’s mouth twisted into a bitter smile, though her eyes were cold. “Yes, that’s certainly what some might think, isn’t it?” She took a long sip from her goblet, the wine staining her lips a dark red. “A Targaryen child, born into the heart of House Lannister. Tywin’s pet project. A new legacy for him to fawn over. And you, my sweet boy, are expected to simply sit by and watch as it unfolds.”

Joffrey’s panic turned swiftly into anger, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. “How can he do this?” he demanded, his voice rising. “How can you let him do this? This… this child could take everything that’s mine! My throne, my power!”

Cersei’s gaze darkened, her fingers tightening around the stem of her goblet. “You think I don’t know that, Joffrey?” she hissed, her voice laced with venom. “You think I haven’t seen this coming from the moment he married her? This child is Tywin’s way of ensuring his legacy goes on, with or without us.”

Joffrey’s face twisted with fury, his eyes blazing. “He’ll be no better than Stannis, Renly, or Robb Stark,” he spat, pacing angrily. “Another usurper trying to take what belongs to me. And you—” he turned on Cersei, his voice accusatory—“you should be doing something about it!”

Cersei’s gaze hardened, her voice dropping to a deadly whisper. “I am your mother, Joffrey. And I have done everything for you, to protect your throne, to protect your future. But Tywin… he doesn’t care about anything or anyone unless it serves his ambitions.��

“But you’re the Queen Regnant!” Joffrey snapped, his voice filled with a petulant fury. “You can stop him, you can make sure this child never sees the light of day!”

Cersei’s face twisted, her anger simmering just beneath the surface as she looked at her son. “And how would you suggest I do that, Joffrey? I am not the one who wields the power here. Tywin does, and he has made it very clear that this child will be the future of House Lannister.” Her voice softened, a bitter edge creeping into her tone. “He is willing to cast aside all of us for the sake of this… this perfect heir he believes he’ll have.”

Joffrey’s breathing was shallow, his chest rising and falling as he struggled to contain his frustration. “So we’re just supposed to sit back and watch as he creates another contender for the throne?” His voice was filled with disbelief, his eyes wide with anger and fear. “I’m the king, Mother! I won’t have anyone challenge me—not my uncles, not some… some child!”

Cersei took a measured sip of her wine, her gaze cool as she watched Joffrey’s reaction. “Then you’d better start acting like a king, Joffrey,” she said sharply. “This isn’t about whining or stamping your feet. This is about understanding who holds the real power—and learning how to play the game as they do.”

Joffrey’s mouth twisted into a sneer. “Tywin thinks he can control everything. He thinks he can just replace us whenever it suits him.”

Cersei’s gaze darkened, her eyes flashing with anger. “Believe me, I know exactly how Tywin operates. But for now, we have to be careful. This child isn’t here yet. And if it is born… well, there are ways to ensure it never becomes a threat.”

Joffrey’s expression shifted, his anger tempered by a glint of satisfaction at the thought of removing a rival before it could grow strong. “Then you’d better make sure it stays that way, Mother,” he said coldly. “I will not be replaced. I am the king. And anyone who tries to take that from me… will pay the price.”

Cersei’s lips curled into a thin smile, though her eyes were filled with bitterness. “Oh, my sweet Joffrey. I’ll make sure nothing takes your throne from you. But remember… in this world, it’s not always the strongest who survive. It’s the ones who know how to strike when the time is right.”

With that, she drained her goblet, her expression hardening as she met her son’s gaze. They both understood what needed to be done. And as they sat there, silent but resolute, a dark determination settled over them both—a shared desire to ensure that nothing, not even Tywin’s ambitions, would take away what they saw as rightfully theirs.

You lounged comfortably on a cushioned settee, Tywin seated across from you, deep in a stack of documents and letters. He seemed as immersed in the minutiae of the realm’s business as ever, though he’d allowed you this rare shared afternoon, a quiet moment that felt both peaceful and oddly domestic.

But the calm was interrupted by a soft knock at the door, and when Tywin inclined his head, a young servant stepped in, looking slightly flustered, his gaze shifting nervously between you and Tywin.

“Speak,” Tywin commanded, his tone cool and steady.

The servant cleared his throat, bowing his head respectfully before glancing quickly at you. “My lord, my lady… there is a visitor from Dorne in the city.”

Tywin’s gaze sharpened, his brow barely lifting. “Go on.”

The servant shifted from foot to foot, visibly uneasy. “Prince Oberyn Martell, my lord. He arrived in King’s Landing earlier today and is… insistent on speaking with Lady Y/N.”

At the mention of Oberyn, a flicker of surprise danced across Tywin’s face, though he quickly masked it, his expression hardening. He cast a sidelong glance at you, studying your reaction.

You arched an eyebrow, meeting Tywin’s gaze before turning to the servant. “Prince Oberyn is here?” you asked, a hint of curiosity in your voice. “Where is he staying?”

The servant hesitated, looking distinctly uncomfortable as he wrung his hands together. “Prince Oberyn is… currently at one of the city’s brothels, my lady. He was… most insistent that you be informed.”

You couldn’t help the faint smile that tugged at the corners of your lips. Oberyn’s choice of accommodations was hardly surprising, but you sensed it wouldn’t sit well with Tywin. You glanced over at him, noting the slight tightening of his jaw, the way his fingers flexed ever so slightly against the table.

“Of course he is,” you murmured, a hint of amusement coloring your tone. “It seems Prince Oberyn hasn’t changed his ways.”

Tywin’s expression was as cold as winter steel, his gaze flicking to the servant with a dismissive nod. “You may leave,” he instructed, his voice low and controlled.

The servant quickly bowed and hurried from the room, leaving you alone with Tywin once more. He turned his gaze on you, his expression unreadable but his eyes reflecting a simmering irritation.

“Oberyn Martell,” he said, his voice like granite. “Trust a Martell to make his entrance at a brothel, of all places. Did he give any indication why he so wishes to see you?”

You shrugged, a faint smirk lingering. “Oberyn has never been one for propriety. I suspect he has his reasons, though what they are, I can only imagine.” You paused, a playful glint in your eye. “And I imagine they are as intriguing as he is.”

Tywin’s gaze grew colder, his jaw set in a hard line. “Oberyn’s intrigue is of little consequence,” he replied sharply. “The man revels in scandal as if it were a sport. If he seeks your company, it’s likely only to fan the flames of discontent and stir up trouble.”

You tilted your head, meeting his gaze with a calm confidence. “Perhaps. But Oberyn has never been one to seek out someone without purpose. He may revel in scandal, but he is not a fool.”

Tywin’s eyes narrowed slightly, his voice carrying a quiet intensity. “He may be a prince, but Oberyn Martell is still a Martell—impulsive, driven by passions that often cloud his judgment. Do not mistake his presence here as a gesture of goodwill.”

You held his gaze, a hint of defiance in your expression. “I know Oberyn well enough to understand the complexities of his character, Tywin. And while he may be impulsive, he is also… refreshingly direct. I’d rather hear him out than speculate.”

Tywin’s jaw tightened further, though a glint of grudging respect flickered in his eyes. “You intend to meet with him, then?”

You nodded, your tone firm. “I do. Better to speak directly with Oberyn than leave questions unanswered. He’s come all this way, after all. It would be… impolite not to.”

A slight frown tugged at the corners of Tywin’s mouth, though he inclined his head slightly. “Very well,” he replied, though his tone remained clipped. “But I’ll not have him stirring up chaos in this city. And I trust you’ll remember where your loyalties lie.”

You offered him a calm smile, a touch of reassurance in your gaze. “My loyalties are clear, Tywin. But I cannot ignore a visitor from Dorne. I’ll meet with him, hear what he has to say… and return here.”

Tywin’s gaze lingered on you, a mixture of caution and an intensity that spoke of both his protectiveness and his mistrust of Oberyn. “See to it that Oberyn understands his place here. This city is not Dorne, and his actions will not go unobserved.”

You nodded, rising from the settee with a composed air. “I shall make that perfectly clear, my lord.” With a final glance at Tywin, you left the room, feeling his gaze follow you as you made your way down the corridors.

As you walked, thoughts of Oberyn filled your mind—his charm, his volatility, his relentless pursuit of justice. Whatever he wished to discuss, you had little doubt it would be laced with intrigue, perhaps even danger. But that was Oberyn’s way, and if there was one thing you knew about the Dornish prince, it was that he never did anything without purpose.

#game of thrones #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf x reader #fire and blood #asoiaf #house of the dragon #hotd #got/asoiaf #got tywin #got #tywin lannister #tywin x reader #tywin x you #tywin x y/n #house lannister #house targaryen #legacy

164 notes · View notes

romanoffsbish · 7 months ago

Text

I’m Fine 🙂 / Save Me 🙃

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader (Familial / Sisters)

Warnings: Angst w/Bittersweet Ending | Reader Dies | Black Widow / Red Room Canon | Addiction | “Cry for Help”

All she had left was the memory of you. | WC: 1,512

"Do you ever feel like you're all alone in this world?"

Natasha looked up from her laptop quick. "What?"

"Like, no matter how hard you try, no one will ever love or regard you in the same way you do them?"

——

Natasha tried to approach you gently, "Y/N." Yet she wasn't quick enough as you jumped back. "Shut up."

There was a fire in your eyes she hardly recognized, and she took a step back. Looking in your eyes hurt, because you were not the same little girl who used to pick flowers from the garden just for her hair and part of her took blame for that. "Don't try and pretend like you do." If you were a wine you'd be the most bitter. "I don't know why you even keep me around Natasha."

The redhead scoffed bitterly, "because I love you!" It stung to feel the burden in her words—you're hurting yourself just to spite her, but she hurt you first and with the way your mind was racing this made sense.

"Or is it because you feel guilty?" You countered, and hit it on the head as she whispered, "Y/N, please..."

Crushing her the same way she did you the day she left you behind, in a place built to destroy a dreamer like you, in the hands of a man set out to punish you for the mistakes of the woman you loved the most. Ouch.

"Do you think the world would miss me if I vanished?"

"Of cou—." You mindlessly cut her off, words tinged with vitriol, "Of course not. You're the one they'd hold the candlelight vigils for, you'll be on a mural and I'd be the one the stray cats would miss, because just like them I know what it's like to truly have no place."

"Have you been smoking pot?" It reeked the longer she stood closer to you. Then you all but confirmed it as you grew defensive. "Is that all you can ask Natasha?"

Natasha clicked her tongue. "Answer the question."

"Yes," you monotoned, "what does that change?"

"Everything." You grew rather frustrated, "but how?"

“You’re not making any sense,” she tried to reason but you laughed incredulously, “this is the first time in my entire life that I am making complete sense, Natalia.”

"I don't like it when you're like this, sestra."

"I'm always like this." Natasha sighed, "yeah..."

"Yeah?" Natasha nodded shamefully and you couldn't stop the sob from breaking. She hated you.

"Then I won't be anything to you, anymore."

Natasha shot up in a cold sweat, her wife beater tank top sticking to her skin, the words of your last fight still ringing in her head; a cry for help and she was useless.

"Fuck," she hiccuped, her knees pulled to her chest as she sobbed alongside the sky just outside the window. She dug the heels of her palms into her eyes and tried to force the pity she felt for herself away, the grief...

There were so many things she could have said; done.

I don't understand, but I want to; talk to me...

Had she ran after you, would it be different now?

Could've grabbed you by the arm. Don't go. Stay.

I love you more than you could ever know.

Instead she scoffed, 'at least I can finish my paperwork now,' and let you storm out the door without noticing the keys to her brand new jet black Porsche were gone.

Yelena still won't return her calls. Melina and Alexei are beside themselves in a grief harsher than her own. Though she internally wagers that her loss was the greatest, because you were her little widow first...

~-~-~———————-~-~———————-~-~-~

"Natty?" the blue haired girl looked at you with a wide grin, the innocence of the nickname you gave her was endearing and in the same breath, twisted. It was clear to her you didn't remember much of the before. You were four years her junior, so similar to Yelena, this life was honestly all you'd known. "Da, malen'kiy pauk?"

Natasha laughed just as soon as you giggled. It brought her joy to know, that for a while, you could be free of the harsh shackles that awaited you all back home.

"A little girl at school today told me about how in her family, when a person goes away, that they can become something else when they visit." Natasha nearly lost the joy on her face as you curiously approached death. In her mind the hope you held onto was futile, that when you shoot someone between the eyes, they are as good as gone, but she could never destroy you like that.

Instead, she gave life to your wonder, "What would you want to be then, a kitty?" You shook your head and blurted your answer easily, "malen'kiy pauk." The gaps in your teeth only made your smile more endearing, and the redhead opened her arms to you. You launched yourself into your sister's arms and gripped her tight.

"Then I could visit you," you mumbled against her shirt and the natural redhead tensed. The idea of you no longer existing felt unpleasant—her walls crumbled the moment you and Yelena entered her life but this was the first time she'd felt anything excruciating.

"Moya malen'kiy pauk," she chuckled softly so as to not cry instead, she placed a kiss to your cheek then hoped your childlike attention span would change the tune.

Then a familiar jingle sounded and you were scrambling into the house, shrieking for your mom.

Natasha shook her head and walked to the old man who knowingly parked out front of your house. He handed the redhead three ice creams, and a disk.

—————

You stood next to Natasha in the line for lunch, which was just a tasteless tray variety of essential nutrients. It was rule of thumb not to talk in line, but you were never one to follow the rules, and neither was Natasha.

"Are you scared of death?" Natasha frowned. "What?"

"I think a healthy fear for the end is fair, but I'm not losing sleep over the concept. Why do you ask?"

"Because I'm honestly not," you shrugged, stance indifferent but Natasha unfortunately believed you as you went on to say, "just wondering if I'm alone."

"Never with us," Yelena chimed in. "Death is an inevitability, just a matter of the when and how."

It wasn't hard to see to the fear in the blonde's eyes as she kept up her indifferent demeanor. Deep down, Natasha knew she was still that little girl from Ohio, who up until recently called fireflies, forest stars.

—

"I can't believe it," your tone clipped, the warmth you used to greet her with was gone. "I'll be back," she lied without realizing, but you could see it clearly. "Izhets."

(Liar)

"Y/N, I am going to end it once and for all," she hoped you could see the bigger picture, a promised freedom.

"Tozhe tupoy," you chuckled humorlessly. "There is no end, just more opportunities to build up defense."

(Dumb too)

Natasha fell for the American's words of ignorance.

"I love you," she said with certainty before she was one with the shadows, the last piece of your hope gone as it'd been years since you last caught sight of Lena.

~-~-~———————-~-~———————-~-~-~

A loud cry outside the purposely cracked window pulled her from her bittersweet thoughts of you...

Natasha stood beneath the tarp of your balcony, eyes downcast on a gorgeous white cat, paws soiled by the mud she trudged through with her three kittens. The redhead set a plate of food down for her then settled down beside her, towel in hand as she dried her babies.

The light of the moon cast over the kittens, reflecting off their varied fur patterns. A black one meowed, calling to her first among the litter, he hissed softly at the unfamiliar lift but settled fast as she began to dry his fur, pulling off grime and putting him to sleep.

The same occurred with the next boy cat, who was a gorgeous shade of gray, with faint swirls of orange.

Lastly, the smallest of the three, a gorgeous blend of white, brown and orange. She was the most vocal.

A grateful purr came from the mama cat when the redhead moved on to her paws, her eyes fluttered open at the unexpected contact, and when Natasha lifted her own gaze she gasped. With the light now on her face the color of her eyes was clear, a tear streamed down Nat's face without warning. The color and deep feeling of understanding behind them were just so, you.

"Oh my," a subdued laugh left her as she caught sight of something else, she scooped the feline into her lap, and placed a finger on her wet, pink nose in waiting. The blur of black transferred right on over and the woman smiled truly for the first time in eight months. "Dobro pozhalovat' domoy, moy malen'kiy pauk."

(Welcome home, my little spider)

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff blurb #natasha romanoff oneshot #natasha romanoff angst #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x female reader #natasha romanoff x y/n #gxg #natasha x reader #natasha x y/n

276 notes · View notes

somegirlontheinternet135 · 10 months ago

Text

I didn't expect a post about a dating sim x click & point adventure game with The Beasts to be this popular but. . .

*random gestures*

So here you go, some thoughts & features that could be added to this weird fangame I conjured up!

(tw: long)

~General~

The world that the player teleported into heavily mirrors the land of beast yeast, complete with each of the landmarks which the beasts resign in. One exception however is at the center of this mysterious land is a forest of silver trees, which surround a strange alter of six stone standing pads, five little stones around a much larger stone in the middle (wonder what that's about?)

Somewhere amidst the silver woods is a mysterious grove, a grove filled with lilies. If adventurous enough, the player can explore the grove, but be warned, for not only do the scent of lilies cause drowsiness and the possibility of passing out, but lilies aren't the only thing that the land houses. The grove is peerless maze, so the player must enter with caution

The story length will be similar to how Obey Me is set up (divided into different chapters) with the first three to four chapters introducing the Beasts

There's no "canonical" choice of who'll you'll end up with, that's entirely up to the player. Another choice the player will have is whether the relationships can be platonic or romantic

Although many MCs are mostly left blank slates, I want the player in the sort of grey area between having an actual personality but leaving details vague enough to leave people guessing. Think the MC from "Obey Me" crossed with Yuu from "Twisted Wonderland" And you know many MCs are often nice and kind-hearted, well sorta throw that out the window bc we're doing something special(snarky, sarcastic, brutality honest, and filled with trust issues)

There's only snippets of what the player physically looks like(trust me, this'll be important later)

It's also important that the player has zero memory of entering the world they were basically isekaed into, something which the beasts learn one way or another. . .

The player will receive several petnames from the beasts, ranging from simple ones like "dear" or "sweetheart," to petnames relating to mice and other rodents(ie: "Little Mouse," "Pika," even "Pipsqueak")

In the game, the day-night cycle plays a big role in the gameplay. You'll be allowed to roam and explore as much as you want, but at night, you're given the choice of whether you should go to bed or keep exploring. If the player chooses to continue exploring, they'll be met with an energy meter, which increases when you sleep and decreases when you don't. With a full bar, the player can explore a total of five times, and once that meter runs out, they get too exhausted and fall asleep

Now would be a good time to mention the player's different bedrooms. They rotate based on the location, but they're meant to be a sort of safe space for the player, it's also the area where they pick up an important item: A journal

The journal functions very similarly to a scribble board and an actual notebook but serves one purpose, to allow the player to take notes on certain puzzles. Different puzzles are scattered across the landmarks, some are extremely difficult and require one to jot notes

I also like to think the player would receive a variety of tools during their journey and will each be essential. Which would lead the player to carry a bag to hold said items

For the purpose of the story, the player is able to respawn if they die. Remember the alter in the silver tree forest, they wake up there like nothing happened, although they do still retain the memories of said death

The player will engage in several minigames, the most common of them being a cooking style game where you prepare meals and ones where your using certain tools. Whilst the click & point portion consists of the player exploring the different areas & interacting with their surroundings

As a bonus, the player is gifted different outfits from the beasts, each one corresponding to the beast, their interests, and their theme

~Shadow Milk~

In the many eyes of Shadow Milk, the player is the only cookie he's seen in a while, so it's obvious he'd want them to be his audience, if you ever so chose to be. They get the option of asking more & trying to convince him on letting them have a turn in performing, which he'll have different reactions to

*You're reading the scripts of one of Shadow Milk's plays, in awe at the material. You compliment his work, making him all the more flattered*

"Oh I love acting! Your script is amazing, could I try acting some things out?"

*Hearing the question, Shadow Milk snatches the script from your hands. He almost snaps at you*

"What? No, of course not!"

"I'm sorry my dear, I adore your praise but. . . we've already established who the audience is! It's the key tool of any actor's career, and without that, we'd just be two actors with no one to entertain. . ."

"Besides, I think you'd have trouble trying to impress such a seasoned performer like myself~"

Despite his condescending comments, he slowly begins to let you act out small skits as their relationship with him becomes stronger, and he begins to cave

Shadow Milk has several references to acting, the stage, and plays, it would be a sin to not give this man a rhythm game. Similar to already existing rhythm games like "Rhythm Heaven" or the rhythm game portion in "Obey Me"

Every task, no matter how minimal or simple, becomes way more difficult with Shadow Milk. If you're just as much as a theater kid as he is, his need for literally everything to be a grand, exaggerated, obnoxious spectacle, especially around the player, is strong. Half the time, things don't go his way & he winds up making a mess, messes which the player is forced to clean up

Also, most everything he does requires a quick "costume change" thems the rules. He's cooking you breakfast? He's wearing a bright pink apron with frills and a heart-shaped pocket. You get hurt and scrape your knee? Here comes Dr. Shadow Milk in his doctor's uniform and stethoscope. The two of you are getting ready for bed? You'll be seeing him in striped pajamas, an extremely long nightrobe, fuzzy slippers and a sleep mask, including hair curlers

There will absolutely be no sneaking out on his domain, not on his watch! Shadow Milk, with his abilities, is a living security system, and reacts heavily to sound. So one snap of a twig or step on some creaking floorboards and it's over!

"*Ahem!*"

*A freakishly familiar voice is heard from behind you. Breaking into a sweat, you slowly turn around, the smallest part of you wished it wasn't who you thought it was. . . But as luck would have it, you didn't know any other crazy entertainers. . . Sure enough, it was exactly who'd you expected to see, Shadow Milk stood in front of you, arms crossed and everything*

"Just where do you think you're going?"

*You try playing it cool, although sweating a bit*

"Oh hey Shadow. . . I was just about to head out and-"

"Head out? At this time?!"

"I-I'm not gonna be gone for too long! I'll come right back after promise- *ah!*"

*Shadow Milk had already scooped you up, carrying you bridal style*

"That's quite enough! I can't have my only audience member getting drowsy during one of my shows, now can I?~"

*You were embarrassed beyond belief, even more once he started walking you to your room, and abruptly boops you on the nose*

"It's off to bed with you little mousey!~"

". . . ok(;w;). . ."

He takes much pride & joy in inconveniencing the player, purely for his own entertainment. What makes it worse is that he'll always find some sort of excuse, saying how it's "to punish them" and "to teach them how to do it right," just some of the lies they have to deal with

And that's not all, you think he started there? nope! He started lying to the player the second the two of them met. Seeing the player scared and alone in his domain, he didn't miss an opportunity to mess with the player's head. Fortunately, this does change as you begin to get closer with him, he starts being more open with the player

The outfit Shadow Milk gives the player is, although the tackiest thing on earthbread(if the player decides that it is), the most practical of the outfits they'll receive. It has a sort of German fairytale vibe to it, covered head to toe in ruffles, lace, bells, overly detailed designs, and of course, colored blue. It looks like, feels like, and is a costume, but despite its cheesy appearance, it's easy to run & move in

Out of all the beasts, Shadow Milk is the one who cares the most for the player's physical well-being. He's always making sure the player's eating enough, getting sleep, and most importantly, is happily entertained. It's been far too long since he was able to put on his plays, and he's gonna make sure they have the ability to sit through them

All and all, Shadow Milk is a well-meaning, all be it annoying, roommate

~Eternal Sugar~

She was always keen on learning most of the trickster's secrets, so finding out about the player, she became both upset yet understanding. Shadow Milk was the Cookie of Deceit after all

Regardless, Eternal Sugar found it quite unfair of him to keep them all to himself, and took it upon herself to steal the player away, via using one of her clouds

*While wandering by yourself within Shadow Milk's domain, you peer up at the unearthly, but normally blue sky, to see what seemed to be clouds suspiciously hovering over you*

Bewildered and curious, the player has the decision of either ignoring it or checking it out, but each will end in the clouds scooping up the player and taking them, all the way to Eternal Sugar Cookie

First meeting the player, she's admittingly unimpressed with what she sees, to think something so important to them would be reduced to such a simple creature. . ? But that mindset quickly changes as she discovers how adorable the player is, and just how naive they are. . .

She views the player as some sort of pet, spoiling them with all the goodies they can ever want, to a point where its almost overwhelming

*On a table, a large platter of sweets is set in front of you; you're almost tooken back by the sheer size of the dish, it was almost half the size of the table! Just sitting next to you was Eternal Sugar, smiling almost amusingly at your reaction*

"U-Uh. . . Is this all for me. . ?"

*She giggled*

"Of course it is dear! What sort of guest would you be if you didn't receive such delicacies?"

*Eternal Sugar picks up a sweet from the platter and holds it close to your mouth*

"Now, open wide~"

Unlike the other beasts, Eternal Sugar has the habit of babying the player, so like Shadow Milk, every simple task becomes way more difficult with her around. She'll make sure they won't be able to lift a finger!

Her associative minigame fits her sort of style, a memory game using cards, similar to the many games you can find on those "Kid-friendly Newgrounds" websites

Another thing worth noting is her clingy nature. Everywhere the player goes, Eternal Sugar has to follow, which does make things more difficult and affects progress. The prime definition of a space invader

It gets even worse during the night cycle, where she often insists on sleeping in the same bed as the player. Despite this, night is the only time the player will be able to get anything done. Just know that when they got back to bed and woke up the next morning, they'll have a sweet surprise waiting for them

*Morning light shines onto your face as it creeps into the rest of the room. You groan, awoken by your natural alarm clock, and begin to yawn & stretch, a part of you wished you slept in a bit longer. But as you try to get out of bed, you feel a weight on your right hand, better yet, you feel an entire section of the bed being weighed down by some unknown force. Turning around, you quickly discover why*

"E-Eternal Sugar Cookie! What are you-?!"

*There, covering a good half of the bed, Eternal Sugar Cookie was peacefully snoozing, clutching your hand. In your failed attempts at yelling at her & pulling your hand away were left to no avail, she had no intent on moving, nor letting go, making you all the more flustered*

"Ms. Eternal Sugar Cookie, please!- Let me go! I need-"

*She merely lifted one eye, only half awake and ready to sleep the rest of the day away*

"Awh~ but little mouse, it's so early!~ Can't you stay just a bit longer?~"

*She smiles at your flustered expression*

"But I have stuff to do! Please, you have to let me- *ah!-* h-hey!"

*Too busy trying to escape, you failed to notice her grip getting tighter, pulling you back down your now shared bed*

"Sleep a little more with me, won't you? There's no rush~"

"O-ok, fine then, but only for a couple more minutes, but that's it!"

*She giggled*

"Deal~"

Throughout their stay, the player only gets small snippets of Eternal Sugar's true personality. If the player chose to question her sickly sweet demeanor, she'd get defensive real fast, asking them why they would even question something like that. If angered, she becomes pushy, demanding, especially when the player doesn't do what she says

It becomes increasingly clear when Eternal Sugar gives you a new outfit, since the one you're wearing (aka the outfit Shadow Milk gave you) didn't fit her style, believing that you should wear something more flowy. She actually offers several different outfits for the player, and although nice, they're. . . let's just say not so family friendly; try as they might to reject her offers, she'll get upset and more persistent, nonetheless; this however does change as the story goes on, she becomes more understanding. Luckily, the two manage to make a compromise, Eternal Sugar offers the player a much simpler pink dress, with bows, lace, and ribbons. Despite being much to the player's liking(if that's what the player chooses), she begins to whine about it, saying how it could've been so much more; not to mention, both the ribbons and lace constantly get stuck on things if they aren't careful

The only time the player's able to really see Eternal Sugar's true colors is when Shadow Milk shows up, who's not all too happy about her basically kidnapping the player. Whilst they ventured alone, he made the mistake of taking his eyes off them for a second, last thing he knew they were snatched by some clouds and whisked away into the sky, which he immediately starts chasing after them. He knew exactly who was responsible. Unlike Shadow Milk, Eternal Sugar does a much better job of keeping her composure, playing dumb and refraining from acting out of character around the player. But once Shadow Milk insults her fake personality, all hell breaks loose

"Well, well, well, if it isn't my dear friend. . .?~ Eternal Sugar Cookie. . !"

*Shadow Milk had snuck in through an open window. Before you could even do anything, Eternal Sugar had already pulled you to her side, forcing you to sit in the lavish and comfortable sofa she was lounging on. He made his way towards her, with his usual wide smile; from the corner of your eye, you could barely see an eye twitch and, was he gritting his teeth? It didn't look like it, but he was seething with rage*

"Oh, Shadow Milk Cookie!~ for what do I owe the pleasure?~"

"How lovely of you to ask!~ You see, you just so happen to have something that belongs to me!"

*Shadow Milk then stares back at you, startling you a bit with his crazed expression. Although Eternal Sugar seemed unfazed, her grip on you only became tighter as the trickster started speaking to you*

"Little mousey, there you are!~ Oh I was so worried, thank goodness you're safe!~"

"I am so, so, sorry to have kept you waiting~ believe me, it's a long story!~"

"*Ah!* And what happened to the little dress I gave you?! I mean you still look cute, but you'd look so much better before and- oh! almost got off track for a second!~ *haha!*"

"Alrighty, I think it's time for me and my little mousey to get go-"

"You're leaving with them? Now what would be the purpose in that?~"

*She quickly shifted from her lounging position to a sitting position, pulling you closer toward her, and flustering you more. You see the trickster's eye twitch more, noticing just a crack in his character*

"*hehe-* what did you say. . ?!"

"I've tooken quite the liking to 'your' little mouse!~ Besides, you keeping them all to your self. . ? Extremely unfair of you!~"

*She then draped her arms around you, your face was getting redder by the second*

"Surely they'll be much happier here, isn't that right little mouse?~"

"Well, *uhh-* actually. . ."

"Then it's settled!~ The little mouse will be staying with me!~"

*They proceeded to argue back and forth, Shadow Milk's played up character was falling apart at the seams, losing a drop of his patience with every word the "angel" said. Eternal Sugar found herself quite entertained with the trickster getting angrier and angrier. All the while, you didn't know what to do, clearly neither of them were going to let you leave, or you know, let you get a single word in. So you were placed in a very awkward situation, stuck between an angel cookie who wasn't keen on you leaving, and a jester who was trying to get you back through gritted teeth*

"Listen, I'm the one who saw them first, they were found in my domain, therefore, they're mine! So if you would be so kind as to return them to me. . !"

*She proceeded to hold you closer, practically cuddling you, was she trying to make him even angrier?!*

"Oh but we're having so much fun!~ They'd much prefer it here than that over-the-top spiral you call a tower. . !"

*Insulting his domain was the nail in the coffin. It looked like he'd finally snapped, any ounce of patience he had before was completely out the window. Using his magic, he wrapped up your hands in some mysterious string, pulling you forward and out of Eternal Sugar's reach, greatly shocking and scaring the heck out of you. Once you were back in his arms, Shadow Milk pushed you behind him, and looking back at Eternal Sugar, she'd gotten up from the sofa, it seemed like she was starting to crack as well*

"Oh!~ So that's how we're gonna play *huh?!* Then I'll lend you this: do you really think they'd want to stay with a tooth-rotting prick like yourself?!"

*She began to clutch her fists, her eyes widen in a mix of shock and anger*

". . ?! What did you just call me. . ?!"

"Oh don't you give me that! little miss 'sweet & innocent angel!' unlike myself, people can see your fake persona from a mile away!~"

"And with how long they had to stay with you. . . I'm surprised my poor little mousey hasn't gotten sick and vomited from the spoiling and smothering they had to withstand!"

*That was all it took for her, she broke faster than he did, the wings on her back got bigger, Eternal Sugar's eyes glowed with rage*

". . . how dare you. . !"

"HOW DARE YOU!!"

The player obviously gets the choice of trying to stop the fight or slipping away, the following events escalating faster or slower depending on which they choose. Things escalate to a point where Eternal Sugar just snatched them and attempted to fly away with the player, which led to Shadow Milk using his magical strings to pull them back, entering the two of them in an intense game of tug of war with the player. And the force of both sides was so strong. . . It ended up ripping the player in half

So, Eternal Sugar Cookie, kinda pushy at times and very clingy all the time, but a sweetheart nonetheless

~Mystic Flour~

Getting ripped in half by two powerful beings. . . not something you would easily forget. . . You'd expect this to be game over, right? well, wrong, cause upon miraculously waking up, not only do you find yourself on top a strange alter, but face to face with Mystic Flour Cookie

Seeing the clouds of Eternal Sugar Cookie's cloud soaring past her land, she immediately could tell that something was a mist, and strolling through the silver forest and finding the player laying on the strange alter, her suspicions were correct

At first, she couldn't believe it, a cookie, in their world?! But after a proper meeting with the player and asking how they ended up on the alter, she became a bit more pitiful, going on to invite them to her domain, such a clueless cookie shouldn't be left alone!

But talking about what was basically their death is pretty traumatizing, so the player is given the choice of whether to straight up lie, or give some part of the truth

"So, you have no memory of how you ended up on this alter. . ? Nothing at all?"

*Your voice was strained, you didn't want to tell her the full truth*

"N-no, not a lot. . ."

*Mystic Flour then proceeds to grasp both your cheeks, pulling you close to her face, much to your slight embarrassment*

"Oh, you poor thing! You must be so lost, so confused. . ."

*It was that moment when an idea sprung into her, an idea that may help the both of you. . .*

"How about you come with me?~ Surely you'll be much safer!~"

*Try as you might to decline her offer, she just becomes more insistent. She was giving decent points however, you were lost and confused, not to mention trapped in this witch-forsaken place, and the only two "cookies" you knew killed you, accidently or not, you couldn't decide. . . Eventually, after lots of convincing and growing tired, you finally cave, accepting her offer*

"Ok, fine, I'll go with you"

"Oh good! Well, come along then!~"

*Gently, Mystic Flour took your hand, pulling you off the alter, and guiding you through the silver woods*

Mystic Flour had already made herself sound quite trustworthy, but of course, this can't be without some sort of catch. . . Though she looks caring on the outside, she sees the player as a mere tool, a stepping stool for something much greater. Her methods of getting information is much more subtle

Both minigames mentioned before required some sort of skill, Mystic Flour's is no exception. Similar to classic video game "Snake," the player's goal is to fill the respected area using dragons instead of snakes (wonder why?)

Pretty much the minute the two of them enter her domain, she basically gives them free range to do whatever. She doesn't really care if the player wanders too far or gets into spaces they shouldn't. But she will let you know when it's time to head back

*As the sun starts to set, you continue to search about the area like a curious child, you hardly noticed Mystic Flour standing just behind you*

"Little pika, dear it's time to head back!~"

*Hearing her voice yelling out to you so suddenly just barely startled you, but you gained back your composure once you see her warm smile*

"Oh! Hi Mystic Flour Cookie! Just give me a second, I have to check a few more things!"

*It wasn't like you weren't going to listen to her orders, you just had a bit more to do. But watching you get farther & farther away from her; Mystic Flour saw it differently. Already making her way toward you, she proceeded to scoop you into her arms, startling you and plastering blush onto your face, as she started walking you back herself*

"*ah!*W-Wait! Mystic Flour Cookie, I wasn't done ye-!"

"I know, I know, dear, you have your little tasks!~ But you'll have so much time to do them tomorrow, so please, might we head back? I'm sure the food is getting cold!"

*With you being in her grasp and your legs being very much off the ground, there wasn't really a choice to keep going. You could've kicked and screamed, but there were doubts that'd even work. . . And so, with no other options, you let her take you away, which sucked, but hey, at least you have yummy food waiting for you!*

Mystic Flour has the sheer amount of enthusiasm as an overly supportive mother, she has not a clue of what the player is doing but they're doing great! But like some mothers, she tries a more "hands off" approach as a way to set rules, intentionally not telling the player helpful information just for the sake of them learning it themselves

She does, however, provide them with all the materials to do so: a bedtime routine, plenty of food, and a warm winter outfit. Speaking of which, due to the wintery background, Mystic Flour gives them an outfit most suitable to withstand the cold, something heavy, but also angelic, a nun like dress colored a soft yellow, complete with black counterparts. The only downside is that defending the player from the cold is its only purpose, for it is much too heavy anywhere else and unbearable in hotter areas

Unlike the other beasts mentioned, Mystic Flour has no interest in forming a genuine relationship with the player. To her, you only serve one purpose, finding her escape (whatever that means) and is more direct into reaching her goal. She creates a false sense of security between the two of them, then when the time is right, uses that bond to her advantage. Fortunately, this behavior does change as the story continues, and Mystic Flour becomes more interested, and attached, to the player, but for now, her methods remain neutral

This becomes more apparent as Mystic Flour tries getting information out of the player in a sort of therapeutic way, sitting them down and letting them speak about their troubles, starting with the obvious. . .

"And. . . that's pretty much what happen. . ."

*You laid atop the much larger cookie, your head resting on her lap as she lightly massaged your hair. You rub your hands uncomfortably, as if waiting for bad news, your throat felt strained. Sandwiched between two angry beings, getting pulled into the sky then ripped in two, these were memories you weren't ready to revisit, especially with someone you've met only a few moments ago. . . At the same time, was holding this deep inside healthy? You saw life flash before your eyes, seconds before being split in half. . . Besides, you were already holding onto so much. . . would it hurt to let go of some. . . You felt Mystic Flour let go of your hair as she began running her hand on your face*

"Oh you, poor, poor, dear. . ."

"I am so sorry you had to be apart of. . . that. . ."

*Although you couldn't see her face, she sounded genuinely sorry for you, which was quite refreshing considering everything you've been through so far*

"They can be rather selfish at times, only thinking about themselves. . . You're lucky you've ended up with me!~"

*You laughed at her remark, trying to brighten up the mood, despite still feeling, well, you didn't know what to feel at that point. . .*

"*Heh* Yeah. . . I guess you're right. . ."

*Unannounced to you, Mystic Flour smiled to herself, her plan was working swimmingly. . . Having brought you to a docile state, it was more than a better time to gather the information she'd been longing for. . .*

"If you would allow me to. . . may I ask you something else?"

*You think for a minute, it was only one question, what harm could it do. . .*

"*Uh* sure. . . what is it?"

"Well little pika, you see-"

*Before the words could fall out of her mouth, there was a sudden loud BANG noise from outside. Respectfully, this startles you, making you flinch, but Mystic Flour didn't seem to move. . . Looking back up, you were finally able to see her face, she seemed irritated, annoyed. Gently, she lifted your head off her lap, resting you onto your knees, confused, you turn to her and saw that she was already standing, looking down upon you. She mumbled something under her breath*

"*Ugh* At a time like this. . ?!"

"Just a moment pika. . . I have to handle something. . ."

Mystic Flour considers herself to be the mother figure of the beasts, and although uncompassionate at times, she plays her role well

~Burning Spice~

(Literally the most perfect segway!~)

All it took was Shadow Milk and Eternal Sugar fighting for Burning Spice Cookie to want a part of the action. Last where we left off with them, the two managed to split the player in half, insides and everything, and were now freaking out over their (very much dead) body, whilst arguing over whose fault it was. By sheer coincidence, did Burning Spice decide to check up on Eternal Sugar, and catches site of the two yelling at each other

Burning Spice hasn't met the player, doesn't know who they are nor what they look like, but he took immediate interest in them after seeing how they affected the two other beasts. If just their mutilated body was enough to cause them to start screaming and crying like little kids, who knows what else they could do. . .

Already, he was making assumptions of what kind of person they'd be, perhaps the player was someone strong and intimidating, someone perfect to be his sparring partner, and continues to deny any sort of actual description of them

Him, Shadow Milk, Eternal Sugar had mostly worked together in their search for the player, but the millisecond they found out they were with Mystic Flour, the race was on. . . Which takes us to now, where Burning Spice appears first, causing a massive scene with his abilities in an attempt to lure her out

*Alerted by the sudden destruction just outside, Mystic Flour rushed to her outer balcony, irritated like this had happened before. . . She knew exactly who the culprit was, and sure enough, there he was, sitting casually atop the balcony's railing, Burning Spice greeted her with a sinister look on his face. She had already prepared herself, immediately knowing that something was about to go down*

"There she is, Misty! Long time no see!"

"Burning Spice Cookie. . . what brings you here. . ?"

"*Oh!* I think you know exactly why I'm here!"

*Getting off the railing, he walked toward his comrade, having no use in making a big deal out of it. Mystic Flour, although slightly surprised, saw it as a sort of threat, only further did she stand her ground*

"Ya see, a little birdie told me that you've been hiding a shiny new treasure from us. And I, of course, thought it'd be too good to be true. . . So I decided to drop by to take a look for myself. . !"

*He tried walking around her to reach the balcony's entrance, but before he could take another step, Mystic Flour stopped him, she wouldn't back down that easily. . .*

"There is no such thing. . . whatever is in my possession is none of your business. . !"

*In her defensive state, Burning Spice's persistence only grew, now patting her shoulder almost reassuringly*

"Hey, c'mon Misty!~ we're buddies, pals! Letting me get a tiny sneak peek shouldn't be a problem!"

"Say, how about this? You let me see what you're hiding, and I promise, I won't tell the others, I'll even let ya keep it! So what do ya say?~"

*Not even seconds after he said that, he immediately tried pushing past Mystic Flour as if she'd already answered his question. Of course, she shut that down almost instantly, even pushing him back, something which he doesn't really take well. His eyes widened, she set him off by just that push alone. She could bluntly tell he was lying, only using their relationship as an excuse, so she didn't let him any closer*

"Burning Spice Cookie, we've known each other for eons, do you really think I wouldn't be able to recognize one of your petty excuses. . . ?! "

"If you knew better, you'd be wise enough to leave, for this so-called treasure you're after, I know nothing about!"

*Pushing and telling him to leave. . . yep, that'll do it. . . Burning Spice broke into laughter as his hair began to glow warms shades of red, orange, and yellow, moving like a sea of flames*

"*HA HA HA HAHAHA!* *Oh!* Misty, ya might just make me angry!"

*His tone quickly shifts from trigger-happy to overall threatening once he'd opened his eyes, now just as bright as his hair, he marches towards Mystic Flour, who was all the more irritated and unfazed*

"And you. . . don't wanna make me angry. . !"

"Make you angry?! *Heh!* Didn't know it was so easy to mess with that small brain of yours!"

*It isn't long before the two engage in full on battle, both sides being equally matched in some way. While this was all happening, you were completely unaware; being inside exploring, you're none the wiser of the destruction going on outside*

Eventually, Burning Spice does manage to bust his way inside, and upon actually seeing the player in their simple state, he couldn't be more disappointed, to think Shadow Milk and Eternal Sugar's bickering would be caused by such a boring little cookie(but those two do fight over a lot of things, so-)

He'd almost considered leaving them, but Burning Spice would rather leave with something than nothing, so taking his losses he hoists up the player over his shoulder and makes, a not so quiet, escape. Much to Mystic Flour's dismay and the player's protests (or cries for help depending on what they choose)

Burning Spice sees the player like how a general sees a soldier. He thinks they're weak, bland, and more notably boring, and wants to, in his words, "spice them up." Because of this, he is unnecessarily harsh, working the player to the bone and expecting them to "get up" when they get too tired

*How long has it been. . ? An hour? Two hours? At that point you didn't know, but all you did know is that it felt like an eternity since Burning Spice started your so called "training." Back and forth, you were forced to run with heavy rocks on your back whilst following him, who was doing the same. All the while he'd yell at you to pick up the pace as encouragement. . .You huffed and panted*

"*Hah**hah. . .* Burning Spice Cookie, please, can't we stop for. . . just a minute. . ?"

*It was the only time he'd turn back at you, what a ridiculous ask!*

"What?! Definitely not! ya still got a lot to go, pipsqueak!"

*You couldn't go on any longer. A mess of sweat and sore bones, you plummet to the ground, numb to the rocks currently on your back, you wanted rest, at least for a minute. . . Burning Spice only reached a good distance away before noticing you were far, far behind. He ran back to you, but not because he was worried*

"Ay! Pipsqueak, what's the holdup?!"

*He crouched down, better viewing your shriveled up body, far too weak to keep going. Despite the obvious, Burning Spice still tried getting you to stand, poking, even attempting to pull you off the ground, but you won't budge. . .*

"C'mon! Quit acting like Eternal Sugar Cookie and get moving!"

"Please. . . let me rest. . ."

*Your sweat could've well stained the ground if it were cool enough. . . You were stubborn & refused to get up, becoming a puddle of flesh. Realizing that you weren't moving, he, grudgingly, decides to do what was best, but first he had to move you somewhere more suitable to your needs*

"*Ugh* Alright! Fine! I'll let you outta this, only once!"

*Swiftly brushing the rocks off your back, he scoops you up and onto his shoulder, no way would he let you die right then and there. You suddenly feel the biggest weight being literally lifted off your shoulders, thanking whatever was out there for this moment*

"I'll let you rest, but not here!"

"*Heh* Thank you. . ."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever!"

Everything Burning Spice does, he expects the player to do the same, no matter how difficult. But will give them the benefit of the doubt when the player gets too tired to keep going, much to his annoyance

He's active and moving 24/7, that's why Burning Spice's minigame is directly based on "Super Mario Bros" where the player runs about collecting items, attacking enemies, etc.

If the player is talking to him, he'll most entirely talk about himself, boosting his ego, even throwing insults at the other beasts, which is both annoying and ironic because he does the exact same things that they do. That being said, it's important to never get mad at him or give him attitude because it will work him up, for better or worse. . .

The player can easily get information from him due to his blunt honesty. When talking about the other beasts, he'll always give bits of helpful information about them, some that can be extremely helpful in the future

Similar to Mystic Flour, Burning Spice gives the player free range to do whatever, the only difference is that Burning Spice sets up these "training sessions" on random occasions without notifying the player firsthand, and expects them to drop everything to train with him. This exhausts the player, causing them to only be able to do things during the day, when they've required enough rest

*Stumbling into the room Burning Spice gave you, you flop onto the bed, nestling your head against your pillow, relived. You were finally able to rest your jelly legs, sore running around and doing tasks. But you turn to your side, something catches your eye. . . On the single window of your room, you noticed what looked to be a slip of paper. Despite being entirely drained, your curiosity got the better of you, and slipping from the bed, you make your way toward the windowsill, now realizing how out of place from the rest of the room, appearing more of a light lilac than any of the reds and oranges. You questioned if even came from the place, and upon proper examination, your suspicions seemed correct. . . This was no mere paper, but a letter! Curiosities only felt more rapid as you opened, revealing not only short message crafted in cursive, but a beautiful illustration of a rose*

"Small Rodent, have you been faring well within our world? Have you been eating, sleeping well? I hope the others hadn't been too cruel towards you. . . Word of mouth does not travel fast here, so I apologize if I arrive to you late. . . I wish to reach you soon. . ."

"From- Silent Salt Cookie"

"Small Rodent. . ?"

*Reading through the passage, you took a few seconds to process, hoping that whoever sent it wasn't suggesting what you thought they were suggesting, cause if you got kidnapped one more time. . .-*

"Aye! Pipsqueak!!"

*Burning Spice had, without warning, busted into the room, no time for internal dialogue now! With milliseconds to think, you swiftly hide the letter behind your back, not before confronting the brute for his sudden excursion of your privacy*

"B-Burning Spice Cookie?! What are you doing here?!-"

"What?~ I can't check on my little pipsqueak, can't I?~"

*Again with the nickname. .?! Blushing rapidly, you couldn't tell whether you were annoyed, angry, or just plain embarrassed. . . Burning Spice laughed boastingly, always amused by your expressions*

"*HAHAHAH!~* Ya never fail to entertain me, pipsqueak!~"

*Then he noticed the arms behind your back. . .*

"Say, whatcha got there? Ya hiding something from me?"

*Shoot! the letter was still in your hands! Only seeing this as more of a reason to keep it hidden, you play it cool for as much as possible*

"I-It's nothing! W-What are you talking about?!*hehe*"

*Burning Spice just saw your actions as even more suspicious, he might be a barbarian, but he isn't stupid. He attempted turning you around to see what exactly you were keeping from him, all the while you were trying to dodge him, cold sweat beginning to run down your forehead*

"Are ya sure? Cause *uh* ya starting to look pretty sweaty there. . ."

"Oh!- this?! *Uhh. . .* I'm just, tired! from all the training today *haha!*"

*You two do this dance a bit, with you becoming doubly irritated the more Burning Spice tried seeing what you're hiding, getting additionally irritated while Burning Spice looked completely willing to tear your front open, asking and reinsuring you, again and again to get a little looksee. And you thought Shadow Milk was nosy?! Annoying and driven to your breaking point, you practically yell at him-*

"IT'S NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS, OK?!"

*Hearing those words fall out of your mouth, Burning Spice is beyond tooken aback, clearly, he didn't like being told what to do. You quickly gasp to yourself, slamming your mouth closed with a free hand upon realizing what you've just said, how could you be so stupid?! With the letter still in your other hand, you decide the best course of action was to crumble up the paper, that letter was the least of your worries now anyway. . .*

"Did. . .Did you just yell at me. . ?!"

*You gulped, your sweat becoming increasingly apparent as the brute looked seconds away from having steam shoot out his ears. He proceeds to get unnervingly close, practically towering over you. . .Didn't think it would end this way. . .*

"That. . . Is. . ."

"Great!!!"

"Ya getting spicier by the minute!"

*Burning Spice grabbed both your shoulders, and shook them with excitement, much to your bewilderment. The way his tone can just shift was both jarring and impressive. After a bit of violent shaking and surviving what would've been another death experience, he eventually lets go, not before giving you a hardy slap to the back whilst laughing, dang near knocking you off your feet and the letter out of your hand*

"*HA! HA!* Ya know what!? Take the rest of the day off! I wanna see my hard work!"

*He happily marches out of the room, leaving you in a rather messed up state*

"Be sure to get all the rest ya need! Ya gonna need it for tomorrow!"

*Burning Spice leaves the room, shutting the door, the second he was out of sight, you took the biggest sigh of relief. That was close, way too close! Like you practically dodged a bullet! You pull back out the crumbled-up letter and tried to fix it, somewhat regretting your decision of almost destroying it before. You had to be more careful next time*

During this entire scene, the player must be extra careful around Burning Spice, because despite how it's played, there's a route where he discovered the letter while they're asleep, and he's not too pleased with having Silent Salt trying to contact them, promptly getting so angry he burns the letter to ashes

That being said, Burning Spice, though seeming like a rage-filled brute who fights first and asks questions later, he's never threatening nor outright violent to the player, unless its a final resort. The player is a much-needed piece in a, all be it complex, puzzle, even if they don't even know it, and in order for them to work is through gaining their trust. But don't think that this is a good thing, there are many times where he could've hurt them yet actively chose not to

He immediately got to work constructing another outfit for the player cause in his own words, "there's no way ya staying here looking like that!" And the outfit he gives them perfectly reflects his ego, slick black clothing, paired with red barbaric accents, and brightly colored armor, making the player look like a mini version of himself. It's good enough for the endless training they have to do, but it's clear that some parts of the outfit were put together at the last second and were made from the minimal sewing Burning Spice learned. And if wanting to be honest, it's kinda ugly. . . Overall, it's the player's least favorite of the outfits given (if they decide it is)

Every hour, it feels like Burning Spice is always learning something new about the player, to him at least. Because of this, he celebrates every accomplishment they make with lavished (and very spicy) feasts, no matter how small they might be. Not exactly the best prize for basically being slaved away constantly to a point of exhaustion, but he doesn't need to know that. The only downside to this is that he's loud, like really loud, so loud in fact, he can't hear any other voices but his own, making him clearly oblivious to a certain someone stealing away the player(-again)

So Burning Spice, a not-so great roommate, but a pretty good personal trainer

~Silent Salt~

Ever since leaving Shadow Milk's site, someone else had been watching the player for some time, someone who wasn't too distant from the player, none other than the silent knight themself, Silent Salt Cookie

Once they found out about the player, there wasn't an ounce of disbelief nor hesitation that got into their head, they only had one goal in mind, and that was getting the player out of the other beasts' hands. But like a hungry wolf with its meal, they knew it wouldn't be easy. The other beasts always kept the player at arm's length, even with the leisure they receive, those four always made sure they were watched. And so they waited, and waited, and waited. . . In till they had the right moment to strike

Normally the beasts would be more direct when approaching the player, probably showing some pity towards them, not before whisking them away, Silent Salt on the other hand had a more different approach. They'd leave small letters for the player, all written in cursive and paired with a beautifully drawn illustration which they constructed themselves. Silent Salt essentially gives the player a bread crumb trail, preparing them for what was to come as to not spook them later

"Last one to get back to the base goes stale!"

"Burning Spice Cookie! Wait up!"

*You two were only trying to get back. . . nothing too special, yet of course, Burning Spice just had to turn it into a game of tag, didn't he?! Already tired from the day's activities, you struggled to move forward, and the barbarian is way ahead. Despite how unfair, annoying, and exhausting it was, you sighed, it wasn't the first time he did this. . . As you forced your body further, all you cared about was getting rest. You never understood why Burning Spice pushed your body to such lengths, but if there was one other reason to keep going it was to spite him. But as you were about halfway there, an unknown force suddenly grabbed your arm and pulled you to the side, you yelped, why does everyone here like grabbing you!?*

"*AH!* W-What the!?-"

*Pulled into an unnoticed corner, you practically swing yourself around, already having a good idea of just who decided to yank you out of the way, and you got what you wished for. . . Hovering over your tiny body, was the silent knight themself, quiet and unmoving, looking down at you. . . You jump back a bit startled, those training sessions are sounding a lot better right now. . . Although frozen with fear, it didn't take long to realize that something wasn't right. Sure, they appeared in front of you but that was merely it, just standing there, menacingly, almost like a statue. Your fear quickly dissolves into pure confusion as you stare back at them, the moment shifting into awkward silence. You already had a decent idea of who this fellow might be, and decided to use it as a way to break the barrier between you two*

"*Um. . .* Hi. . ."

"Y-You're Silent Salt Cookie, right. . ?"

*It took them a second to respond, and by "respond" they actually crouched down and got extremely close to your face, adding to your bewilderment, and barely managing to keep your composure*

"*ah!-* I'm gonna take that as a yes. . !"

*As a result of being thrown around so much, you practically knew what was next, but seeing the knight so still felt alien to you, and almost refreshing. . ? Like you were happy to just not be snatched for once, as morbid as that sounds. Oh but no, that's not right, who's to say that this fellow was to be trusted. You make the bold choice to ask them more questions, but before another word could fall out of your mouth. . .*

"Aye Pipsqueak! What's the hold up!?"

It's a no-brainer that Burning Spice finally noticed the player's absence, they have the rightful decision of running to him or yelling out, which Silent Salt covers their mouth and attempts to take them away(what a surprise!) The second route, however, the player's (4th) kidnapping is put on display for Burning Spice, who did not handle the situation well. He immediately rushes in to save them, but Silent Salt was much too swift for him. All the while, the player attempts to save themselves; trying to kick, scream, and squirm their way to freedom, but nothing works, they were a knight after all. Enraged, Burning Spice yells at Silent Salt that he'll get revenge, and he won't be alone. . !

(And before we go on any further, I personally like to hc that Silent Salt is both mute and deaf because 1. it matches with the new ancient heroes since Pure Vanilla is heavily implied to be blind; and 2. it'd make sense that the witches would want to make a disabled cookie. During their pre-corruption days, the five virtues also had to be role models for the cookies, thus they had to, at some extent, be relatable. So giving one of the virtues something that other cookies can relate to makes sense. Oh and as a bonus, Silent Salt is completely fluent in ASL and is fairly good at lip reading; Shadow Milk and Mystic Flour are also fluent in ASL and often act as their mouth pieces. Ok moving on!)

You'd think that the player wouldn't trust Silent Salt from the jump, given the circumstances & that this happened to them so many other times, and yet. . . Silent Salt was the only one to be considerate of the player's feelings before performing the act, they knew the player would be scared, if not terrified, of them, especially when you consider their appearance and quiet nature; thus they planted the letter to let them know. So although this doesn't mean the player fully trusts them, it is a step into the right path

How they view the player is a complete mystery, unlike the other beasts, it isn't just spelled out in ink. Instead, the player has to focus on their interactions and certain body language, since they can't speak

Similarly to Eternal Sugar, Silent Salt will often give the player gifts in an attempt to gain their trust. The main difference on the other hand was that those gifts were much smaller scale than what Eternal Sugar gave them, but still feel more thought out and genuine

*Lilac-colored curtain draped over large windows, comfortable sitting, and a bed that resembled a soft marshmallow, you had to admit, for living in a wasteland, they sure knew a thing or two about decor. But as you admired your new bedroom, you get a sudden knock on the door, and opening it a crack, you see Silent Salt, they appeared to be holding a few things*

"Oh! Silent Salt Cookie! What brings you-"

*Fully opening the door revealed what they were holding, a bouquet of beautifully made paper flowers in one hand, and a sliver tin, filled with salted chocolates in the other. Seeing the gifts, you were pleasantly surprised, not just by the tin of sweets but the paper flowers, so true to life and clearly made by them, you were amazed by the fact they were able to pull something like that off*

"Wow! are these for me?"

*The knight nodded their head, handing both gifts to you. Despite how small the gesture was, you still felt a tiny bit overwhelmed, the smallest hint of blush creeped onto your face*

"T-Thank you! They're lovely!"

Silent Salt was & still somewhat is known for their skills with a sword, thus the reason why their minigame is based on "Fruit Ninja." The player, instead of slicing fruit, is made to cut different pieces of paper according to a dotted line, in an attempt to mimic Silent Salt's paper flowers

While out exploring and doing tasks, Silent Salt will actually partner up with the player & help them, which is already a massive change from the player's other beast encounters. Either they'd find ways to stretch the task out even longer, or just not help at all, so having them there is a huge change of pace. They're always by the player's side, because of this, they can come off as clingy at times

They, like most of the beasts, give the player free range to do whatever, but is quick to set boundaries. The player isn't allowed to go into certain areas without their supervision, especially at night

*Lightly tracking your steps across cold floors, you carefully tiptoe through the Silent domain, moonlight streaking onto every nook and cranny acted as your only light source, which you tried to use to your advantage, the last thing you wanted was to be caught. But when you turned the corner, guess who you unceremoniously bumped into. . ? Pressed into their chest, you abruptly backed away startled & flustered realizing who it was, Silent Salt just looked at you, just like before*

"*Ah!-* Silent Salt Cookie. . ! It's not what you think. . !"

"I-I just have a few other things to do, that's all!-"

*The silent knight only stood there, arms crossed, making their stance all the more stern. You already had a good idea of what was going on in their head, no amount of convincing would change your fate. So with a sigh, you started heading back to your room, not before Silent Salt gently scoops you up, refusing to let you touch the floor, and carried you there themself. Blushing rapidly, you beg and plead for them to put you down, but failed miserably; why does everyone like carrying you so much. . ?*

Silent Salt treats the player like they're the most fragile thing on Earthbread, handling them with care and, with their position as a knight, more than happy to cater to their every need and desire

Due to their disability and limitations in lip reading, talking to them is difficult, creating this communication barrier between them and the player. This, however, doesn't stop the two of them from trying to fix the issue

That being said, Silent Salt most definitely wants to teach the player ASL so they can communicate easier. They made sure they'd take their time, teaching them all they need to know, starting with letters, to phrases, to full sentences. Even if the player struggles to learn at first, they're extremely patient with them, teaching things one step at a time

If it wasn't already obvious, Silent Salt is very delicate with their hands, due to their precise skills with a sword. Because of this, they picked up quite a few hobbies, like painting and drawing, clearly showed by the letter they made the player before, and surprisingly, braiding hair

*Slowly, the silent knight carefully overlapped strand after strand of hair from your head into beautiful braids. They put special care into each braid, constantly checking with you to make sure they were comfortable, even going the extra mile of creating more paper flowers to infuse into the braids. Sitting in front of the bedroom's vanity mirror, you were in awe at how perfect the braids were, your hair practically became an art project! Looking back at them, you couldn't see their face, but you could tell Silent Salt was genuinely enjoying themself, how they added flower after flower, even sometimes placing one directly onto your head; because well, why not? It was moments like this that made you think back to when you first met, back to when their silence felt alien to you, and how you were so unwilling to cooperate. . . Yes, you still didn't fully trust the knight, all of this just felt too perfect, almost too good to be true even, but it does. After placing the last flower, they were finally done, the braids were wrapped around your head and tied in the back with a purple ribbon*

If the hairstyle doesn't make them feel like royalty, then don't worry, Silent Salt had them covered. Cause not soon after doing their hair, they presented their outfit, which looked more like a gorgeous gown than any regular dress. Everything about it was perfect, the long white silk trin that partly touched the floor, the bow around the waste that matched your hair, the simple purple accents, its ruffled layers, everything. But possibly the most radiant part of the gown was these beautiful sewn in embroideries, each more beautiful than the last, all throughout. This was the straw that broke that camel's back, such actions of kindness couldn't go unrewarded; so through ASL, the player is able to sign phrases "thank you" and "sorry," to which Silent Salt immediately accepts. Quite a shame the player couldn't do more. . . The only two downside one could think of is that it strongly resembled a wedding dress, which can give the wrong ideas fast; also the gown length gives the possibility of tripping, but that's a simple price to pay

The relationship between the player and Silent Salt is mostly through action, and to some extent, physical touch. The player is always finding new and creative ways to repay them for everything they've done, often finding themselves cooking or cleaning for them, even gifting them drawings and paper creations they made themselves. Silent Salt does find this sweet and charming, but as a knight, they really have no desires. They crave the simpler things, like holding hands, learning ASL, or just being together in general. No amount of wasted paper would change that

Unfortunately, as stated before, not everything can be too blissful. . . Silent Salt is regularly shown to be extremely overprotective of the player, which does make sense considering their role; Silent Salt is a knight, keeping the innocent safe is their job, and the fact that the other beasts were also after them only made them double down on protecting them. Now, Silent Salt, before meeting the player, had no plans of escape, at least even they think of, in fact, became increasingly fond of their surroundings. . . Only when they learned the player did they start to reconsider. . . with a new opportunity, they couldn't simply pass it up. . .

Because of this, they've developed a 6th sense(or 5th or 4th) whenever they felt the player was in danger. Silent Salt can pick up signals of danger from miles away, and acts quickly ensure their safety, so imagine the player's surprise and confusion when being rushed somewhere else

*Everything was a blur. . . One second ago you and Silent Salt were spending time together per usual, before you knew it you were being pulled into your room, and Silent Salt was doing repeated checks on the door and windows, making sure they were locked. Confused, you try to stop them in their tracks, to get some sort of answer, but all they did was clutch both your hands tightly, looking you directly in the eyes; before abruptly letting go, telling you to never, for any reason, open the door or windows till they came back, then disappears, leaving you in a state of flustered shock. Even if completely unexpected on your end, it became increasingly clear why Silent Salt acted the way they did. . . with a battle axe, guess who was waiting just outside. . ?*

"Salty! right on time!~ It's been awhile, hasn't it?~"

*The knight merely stood there, sword in hand with a tight grip. They already knew what the brute was saying, him placing the axe's handle on the back of his neck as he began to walk towards them*

"Honestly, I'm pretty surprised Salty!~ Out of everybody here, it's you who'd be dumb enough to steal from me, me!"

"Cause when I think of stealing, I usually think of Shadow Milk Cookie, maybe Eternal Sugar Cookie if what we're after is really worth fighting for, but you?! *HA!* Didn't think of ya as the taking type!~"

"*Hmm. . .* I like it! You know I always love a good surprise?~"

*With every step he took, Silent Salt only further stood their ground, having already pulled their sword out from the dirt and getting into a battle stance. Upon reading their body language, his grin only got bigger, he knew exactly what was doing and actively stirred the pot. He put his hands up as he backed away in a condescending yet reassuring tone*

"*Woah!-* *Woah!-* Easy there buddy!~ Now I know what it looks like, but I promise, I didn't come here to cause trouble. . ."

"Instead, I'm looking for a little. . . exchange. . ."

*Burning Spice proceeded to hold his axe behind his back to make himself appear more innocent. All the while Silent Salt didn't once get out of their battle-ready mindset*

"Now I know I can be a little. . . hectic at times, but for this I'm willing to make one exception. . ."

"Say, I won't leave a scratch on your place, if you return what you've stole from me. . !"

"A simple deal, really!- You get out of this with no causalities, and I leave with that little cookie in tow!~ So what do ya say. . ?"

*Silent Salt was only getting parts of the Burning Spice's so called "deal," and already, they were not having it. . ! With just a blink of an eye, Silent Salt went from guarding their domain to holding the tip of their blade at Burning Spice's throat, as if they teleported, they were that fast. . ! Along with Shadow Milk's lies, none of the beasts were dumb enough to fall for one of his exchanges! The knight was clearly provoked; exactly what the brute wanted, so he kicked back far enough to pull his axe out from his back. Though the kick was strong, Silent Salt was still able to hold their ground, using their sword to keep their footing. There was a battle-hungry look in his eyes*

"*HA HA!* You just love surprising me, don't ya Salty?!"

*He then stretched his neck and shoulders, tense bones popped at the motion. Then proceeded to do his battle stance*

"Whatever! Wouldn't have worked anyway! Besides, no one gets dumber around here, right?! *HA!*"

"But one thing's for sure. . . Doesn't matter how tough you act. . . I'm not leaving without my pipsqueak. . !"

*His tone shifted to slight anger as his hair turned into bright flames. Having weapons drawn, it's clear as day as neither was willing to do what the other wanted, nor give in. Both had goals set in stone and willing to follow through with them; but just before they could actually strike at one and other. . .*

"*Yoo-hoo~* Up here!~"

"Apologizes for being so late you two, we've bumped into some. . . causalities. . ."

*In from above, flew in Eternal Sugar atop one of her clouds as Mystic Flour floated beside her, landing onto opposites of the brute and knight, creating this strange box. Burning Spice became all the happier, being the violence-obsessed cookie he was, this just maybe the fight more interesting for him. While Silent Salt was as stern as ever, despite being outnumbered*

"Misty! Sugar! Welcome to the party!! Just when things were starting to get interesting!~"

"*Ugh* Don't overexcite yourself Burning Spice Cookie, some of us only want this to be over with. . !"

*She has a quick glance at the beasts around her, just as annoyed of as before*

"So . . . I assume we all know about our new. . . 'inhabitant,' yes?"

*The silent knight nodded*

"*Pfft* *Uh Duh!-* What's was ya first clue?!"

"That's right! It's been far too long since I've seen another cookie, and when I finally find one, they're snatched from my hands!"

"Oh my poor little mouse!~ They must've been so lonely since they were taken away from me!"

"Being pushed and pulled by some brute and locked away by some scary knight?!~ What can be worse?!"

*Eternal Sugar whined and whined, nitpicking everything that she deemed "cruel treatment," and although most of the things said were true, Burning Spice couldn't help but take offense*

"Aye! What do ya mean by 'pushing and pulling around?!' I have you know I treat them with utmost respect and care!"

"*HA!* You call your so called 'training' of yours respect and care?! Don't make me laugh!"

"Unlike you, I provide my little mouse with everything they could ever need, everything they desire. . ! I make them happy! All your training does is ruin their perfect mind and body!"

*She looked over to her two other comrades*

"At least I can be assured that those two actually kept them safe, otherwise, I wouldn't know what I'd do. . ."

"Even Shadow Milk Cookie takes better care of my little mouse. . ."

*That's when most of the group realized a crucial detail, where the heck was Shadow Milk?! Unannounced to them, Mystic Flour already had a good idea of where he was, but waited to answer. . .*

"Oh yeah! Shadow Milk Cookie isn't here! Where is the guy anyway?!"

"When we found out the pika was being kept here, we came as soon as possible. But it wasn't long before Shadow Milk separated from us; we tried to pursue him but by then, he was already gone. . ."

"Perhaps we should wait for him. . .Knowing him, he likely has something planned. . !"

*With Shadow Milk being the smartest of their group, waiting for him seemed like the safest option, after all he was known for his tricks, who knows what he could be planning. Yet the brute and angel, who always had something to say, didn't have the patience for such. . .*

"And let him get another chance on stealing my little mouse away again?! Absolutely not!!"

"Yeah Misty, not having Shadow Milk Cookie around means less of us to get through, even if it is kinda boring! *HA HA!*"

"Wouldn't want his filth to rub off on my pipsqueak. . !"

*Eternal Sugar gasped in surprise and utter disgust*

"'Your' Pipsqueak?! are you delusional?! Clearly they're mine!!"

*Burning Spice cracked his knuckles, as he puffed his chest*

"Oh yeah?! Then why don't ya prove it?!"

*Mystic Flour groaned in irritation, if her eyes were open she would have definitely rolled them, this charade was going too far*

"*Ugh* You two are bickering like children! Could you at least not treat them like some object?! It's likely that the pika will return to me or Silent Salt Cookie, at least we don't see them as a mere pet. . !"

*Silent Salt nodded in agreement*

"And yet, I think we all know what we're really after. . . "

*With that sentence alone, it made Burning Spice and Eternal Sugar as quiet as Silent Salt was. . . The whole area was hushed, quiet enough to hear a pin drop. . .The four beasts side eyed each other, as if ready to duel; evidence was undeniably clear, they wanted to use you. . .for something? After keeping their running mouths shut for what felt like decades, Burning Spice finally breaks the silence, drawing his weapon, his patience was already dissolved. . .*

"Alright, that's it! We all want the cookie, and just sitting around isn't gonna help!"

"So, let's settle this. . . once and for all. . !"

"Agreed!"

"*Ugh* Suppose we should get this over with. . !"

*As Silent Salt drew their sword, the battle had began. The four played sides, the three of them trying to barge their way in, and Silent Salt trying to keep them out; and despite how unfair the fight seemed, not only were they evenly matched, but they all were fighting for themselves, for their own selfish goals, all of which surrounded getting to you. . . Speaking of that, you were once more left in the dark, spared from the situation. Not to say you aren't curious about what was going on either, in fact you were completely willing to open the windows to look outside if Silent Salt didn't tell you to keep them closed. Laying on top of the marshmallow bed, you stare up at the ceiling in boredom and something else. You received another to be alone with your thoughts, really rekindle and wonder. . . What the hell was going on?! First you were teleported to this strange place, then you were kidnapped five times, then you basically died and came back to life? Nothing about your situation was normal! Not to mention the cookies you're trapped with, if you can even call them "cookies" what even were they? You didn't know anything about them, what to feel about them, let alone if you could trust them or not. . . Questions were swimming in your head like fish upstream, feelings fighting for control in till. . .*

"*AH HAHAHAHA!~* no matter what, the story always stays the same!~"

*You hear a voice, a squeaky, arrogant, yet oh so voice. . . You look around in surprise, was that who you thought it was?!*

"That's right!~ The hero has arrived!~"

". . .To save his damsel in distress!~"

*CRASH!*

*Destroying one of the windows, bursts in the self-proclaimed trickster himself, Shadow Milk Cookie, the suddenness of the action making you fall off your bed startled and almost near giving you a heart attack. When hitting the ground, he did a quick barrel roll before landing on one knee in a sort of "ta-da!" position, acting like he didn't ruin a perfectly good glass plane, and much to your bewilderment. You quickly get up and stand towards him*

"S-Shadow Milk?! Are you ok?!"

"Awh~ Look at you!~ worrying for lil'ol me!~"

"I'm perfectly fine my little mousey!~ Absolutely splendid!~"

*You knew you should've expected a reaction like that from him of all cookies, but it didn't stop you from going dumbfounded*

"You just jumped in through a closed window!!"

*He then went on this long, overexaggerated, winded speech about how much he missed you, how you two had been separated for far too long, what lengths he had to go through just to get to you, but you were wise enough to know that he was partly spewing out lies. . . Mystic Flour knew he had a plan, and had a plan he did! whilst everyone else was occupied, he'd snuck in through a back window, unbelievable how such a cheap tactic was able to work. . . It wasn't long for Shadow Milk to notice the beautiful dress you were wearing, and lights up with glee, zipping toward you, and scaring you once more*

"And might I add, that is quite a marvelous gown you have on!~ *AH!* It makes you look so much more like a proper damsel!~ who made it?!"

"Well-. . ."

*He cuts you off before another word could come out of your mouth*

"-Oh, no, no, no, wait!- don't tell me, Silent Salt Cookie made this, didn't they?~"

"*AH!* It's such a no brainer!~ They make such amazing things, of course they'd make something this cute!~ I'm a little jealous!~ *hehehe!~*"

"*Whew!~* Okay, I think we had enough excitement for one day, hadn't we?~"

*He abruptly grabs your arm and pulls you close, startling you as blush begins to creep up your cheeks*

"Time to go home!~"

*It was the mention of "home" that threw you into a loop, what did he mean by "go home?!" Shocked, you pulled yourself away from the trickster, causing surprise and slight annoyance on his end*

"H-Home?! What are you talking about?!"

"Oh, you ask such silly questions, I'm taking you with me! Back to my humble abode!~"

Obviously, going back to the guy that had the player turned into two halves, is something that they aren't fully ready to do, thus are given the choice to go with him or not; to which both have different, yet very grim results. . . If they say yes, Shadow Milk Cookie will carry them out of Silent Salt's domain, not before being founded out by the other beasts, causing the player to be caught up within the drama, eventually getting stabbed through the chest from all the excitement. . ! On the other hand, if they say no, Shadow Milk with become more persuasive toward the player, reminding them of their time spent apart. If they deny him enough times, his patience begins to wane as his persona falls apart. Becoming more demanding till he snaps, forcing the player to leave with him; but it was already too late, as the other beasts had shown up, who aren't too happy about his late arrival, and chaos ensues, leading to the player getting decapitated. . !(Woooo-)

~Final~

The player ends up back at the top of the altar in the Silver Forest, completely passed out from the shock. All the beasts, after freaking out over their dead body, head there in a heartbeat, arguing over who'd be the one to take the player home, till Mystic Flour decides enough is enough, ending the argument and declaring the Shadow Milk should be the one to take in the player since he found them first, further saying that arguing wouldn't get them anywhere and wants to start a meeting before anyone else could argue back. . . Fast forward to Shadow Milk's base, the player is getting some well needed rest as the beasts are discussing what to do next, although it isn't entirely apparent that they remember how they got there, having them around could be beneficial to their much bigger goals. After a bit of talking, Shadow Milk conjures up a wonderfully, awful, idea. . . keeping the player as their hostage. . . Think about it! From the outside world, they already have reputations for being cold and cruel monsters, if they found out they had a cookie with them, they'd go nuts! Plus, who'd be more inclined to get involved? None other than the new Guardian Of The Seal, and Ancient Hero herself, White Lily Cookie. . . Long story short, they all agree with the plan, as it will guarantee their escape, and check on the player not long after, who was still passed out

*In your dormant state, you lay unconscious as all five beasts watched you, each of them claimed a corner of the bed. As they watched, Silent Salt noticed a slight twitching in your hand, and instinctively embraced theirs into yours, rubbing their thumb on your wrist. Not everybody took it well, cause Eternal Sugar shooed their hand away just a few seconds later*

"*Ugh* Get your hands away from them, you're ruining their slumber. . !"

*She turns back to you as her mood shifts from annoyance to gentle delight*

"Awh~ They look so precious!~"

*Burning Spice leaned forward on the bed to get a better look at you, he seemed upset*

"How long are they gonna be like this. . ? It's been awhile now. . ."

"Roughly a few hours, but I believe they will be awake by tomorrow. . . Poor thing, must have scared them quite a lot "

". . . I think it'd be wise to not tell the pika about our plan, after all, we did get this far with them"

"Right you are, my dear comrade!~"

"If it were to get out that we were keeping them for our own sake, it'd surely shatter any trust we might have, and we don't want them defying us, now do we?~"

*The other beasts agreed*

"*hehehehe!* So it's settled!~"

*Running a hand up your arm, the trickster looked back at you with his signature smile*

"*Hehehehe!*Oh be sure to get all the rest you need, my little mousey!~"

"Cause you'll be in for quite the performance!~"

And that's pretty much how the story begins, the player is their little doll for the time being, none the wiser about the beasts' plans for hostage type deal with The Guardian Of The Seal

(holy crap we're almost done, guess it's time to talk about some background and bonus info)

~Background~

You are playing as the new resident of the Faerie Kingdom, a half-faerie who grew up in Crispia. There, they are known for two things, having cookie genetics and being kinda an a*s, everything makes them unique compared to other faeries, especially the lack of wings on their back, and their personality isn't exactly a pocket of sunshine either. So throw that in a blender, and you got yourself unnecessary fame that many don't want. The player receives the full "little sibling treatment" with faeries being overbearing and constantly getting doted on. Which, of course, sucks, day by day, no matter where they go, they can't escape it! The only escape they have from it all is their day job, working as the librarian's assistant is when they could finally have some peace and quiet, alongside the librarian, who became the player's good friend

Ok! Bonus Stuff!

With the player's kidnapping and life within the Silver Kingdom, a few bonus relationships the player can have are with Silverbell, Mercury Knight, Pure Vanilla, and of course White Lily. SB and Mercury are like childhood friends/crushes, having met the player before the events of the main game, making the player more acquainted toward them. White Lily and Pure Vanilla on the other hand, take a parental role, acting as the player's protectors much later in the game. Both are relatively more alien to the player, especially White Lily, but the two quickly insert themselves, insisting that they only want to keep the player safe(which makes sense considering their mission is to protect Cookiekind, and the player certainly counts) Out of the two, it's White Lily we end up getting the closest with(a mother + child bond if you will), as Guardian Of The Seal, she was horrified to find out the player was being held hostage by the beasts, and wanted to do anything in her power to save them. She also took a liking to their personality (which's fine I guess???)

It may not look like it, but this game is all about choice. It's about the ideas and importance of choice, how decisions affect your life, how even bigger decisions are often made by selfish people, and (I'm probably gonna get publicly executed for this!-) how a democracy should be handled, because let's be honest, we need a better one. . . We'll see plenty examples of a bad democracy among the beasts, as Shadow Milk, the proclaimed "leader" constantly makes choices for others, in reality only thinking about himself; it's through the player he learns to give the others a say in the matter. Speaking of which, it's the player's choices that will have the most impact as the story continues, like how most games do, the only difference is that the game provides a much wider buffet of choices, making the opportunities endless!

If you're reading this then, Congratulations!

You Made It To The End!

Here's A Trophy!🏆(for both me and you cause omfg this took FOREVER! I'm happy with the final result but like- I never thought this would take like 5 weeks to make ;w;)

If I could go back in time, I would've definitely made this shorter. . !

If you any other ideas for this strange fangame, then feel free to let me know!~

Ok, bye!~^^

*decomposes into the soil*

#cookie run kingdom #cookie run x reader #cookie run kingdom x reader #cookie run #shadow milk cookie #shadow milk x reader #something to chew on while I work on my drafts. . .#i have..........so many;w;#eternal sugar cookie #eternal sugar cookie x reader #privated this post bc I wasn't even done with it and was saving it for AFTER the global strike and I posted it on accident-#mystic flour #mystic flour cookie x reader #burning spice cookie #burning spice cookie x reader #slient salt cookie #silent salt cookie x reader #y/n cookie #i put way too much effort into this. . .#i plan on finally finishing the next chapter of anything and everything all of time next that's also biting in the ass lately ;w;#pray for me guys🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽#other than that be on the lookout for my other projects #and as always stay tuned^^#crk x reader

397 notes · View notes

thinkinthoughtsalot · 6 months ago

Text

I'm so incredibly exhausted with the narrative that if you question Gwyn as a character it's because you have an agenda against her. That if you think she's suspicious it's because she threatens your ship.

Listen. I enjoyed Gwyn and Emerie in Silver Flames. I liked them both as friends for Nesta. Emerie resonated with me a little more than Gwyn, but I still found Gwyn to be an adorable and fun character. Her refusing to leave Nesta in the Blood Rite was one of the most heart wrenching moments of the entire book and had me in tears.

Gwyn is, however, sus af. From her singing triggering Nesta to talk about and have visions of the Dread Trove (she definitely doesn't have singing related powers), to her excelling at training being explained away as pliant bones (because she's never physically trained before, right?), to faintly glowing when she sings (light and singing, nothing odd there), to her bringing up Truth Teller and somehow knowing it was used to kill Hybern (how does she know this? Why do she and Emerie use almost identical wording when mentioning Hybern's death, but only Gwyn mentions the Shadowsinger's knife?), to feeling unworthy of wearing the invoking stone (why? Because she failed to save her sister while outnumbered and brutalized, even though she successfully saved a bunch of children? I don't want to imply that her feelings about her own grief and trauma are wrong in any way, but is it just guilt over her twin or something more?), to her saying that if Nesta and Emerie knew everything they'd think differently of her (what are you hiding Gwyn? What could make your deeply traumatized closest friends think less of you?), to Nesta noting she has a secret beneath her pretty face (what secret? Her nymph heritage? That's not a secret, she's open about it), to the surprising authority in her voice and the way she made Nesta's powers grumble.

And this is all in the main text of ACOSF, completely excluding the Azriel bonus chapter. These are all things that I noted on my first read. There was nothing in the book that made me think "romance" or "mates" or "threat to my ship" in the book, but there was a whole lot of weirdness around Gwyn. In the same book where we're introduced to lightsingers. These are things that all set off alarm bells for me before I even knew GA was a ship.

It's not an agenda against Gwyn or a petty reaction to a crackship. It's all right there in canon, no twisting of the text required. Az's bonus chapter is just confirmation of what we already knew from the book - Az and Elain have feelings for each other that are not platonic, and Gwyn has something going on with her singing and luring.

That's it. No hate, no agenda, no threat to Elriel.

#elriel #pro elriel #elain x azriel #anti gw*nriel #anti g*ynriel

170 notes · View notes

arlerts-angel · 8 months ago

Note

Could you write a Ran Haitani x reader smut, but use this prompt somewhere.

“But you like being corrupted, don't you, sweet girl?”

-xx

❛❛𝑻𝑯𝑬𝑹𝑬'𝑺 𝑳𝑰𝑻𝑻𝑳𝑬 𝑴𝑰𝑺𝑺 𝑩𝑶𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑵.ᐟ❞

being a bonten executive's assistant comes with many perks. . . including (but not limited to) flexible hours, good pay, publicity (apparently), and getting to screw your boss ?!

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ a/n: i've never written ran before i'm a little nervous!!! nonnie i hope you enjoy!!! i loved and had a lot of fun writing this 🥰🫶 wc: 866

since getting hired as an assistant to bonten executive ran haitani, the two of you have been photographed together and plastered across billboards and magazines, making headlines across japan.

❛❛𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍 𝐄𝐗𝐄𝐂. 𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐌𝐘𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐘 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋❞

❛❛𝐓𝐎𝐏 𝐁𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐍 𝐄𝐗𝐄𝐂𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐑𝐀𝐍 𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐈 𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 (𝐁𝐑𝐔𝐍𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄/𝐍𝐎𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄/𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐄/𝐑𝐄𝐃𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃)❞

"heh," he scoffs, "these dumbasses think i'm screwing my assistant!"

he tosses the magazines onto his desk and takes a sip of an old fashioned. he presses a button, paging you to his office.

you make your way promptly to his office and ask, "what can i do for you, mr. haitani?" you smile, awaiting his response.

"have you seen the shit on the news lately?"

you shake your head, puzzled by his question. "no, sir. i can't say i have... do you need me to contact some—"

he leans back in his seat, reads the headlines aloud, then takes another sip of his drink, and looks up at you, smirking.

"so... what do you think, little miss bonten?" he asks, enunciating consonants sharp enough to cut. the look he gives you makes your thighs clench.

"the media will twist anything for personal gain, sir–" you say softly, clearing your throat in an attempt to keep your composure.

he chuckles. "that's all? d'aw, too bad... had you said something else, i might have entertained them..."

you swallow the lump in your throat, setting off the feeling of butterflies in your stomach. "i'll tell the bartender to use a lighter hand–"

"you think i'm drunk right now?" he laughs, "not a chance, doll. you're a smart girl, sweet too... i know you are...." he rises from his desk and approaches you, gently lifts your jaw to meet his gaze.

you're certain he can feel your heart leap into your throat and your skin burning with excitement. his hand gently caresses your face. "mr. haitani–"

"don't be so formal. ran is fine." he laughs softly.

"i don't think this is right mr., ahem, ran."

"well, if this is wrong then i don't wanna be right." he smirks. "i know you want it too. you're not as innocent as you let on... you like being corrupted, don't you sweet girl?"

he hears your breath hitch and knows he's got you right where he wants you. he looks into your eyes and swipes his thumb across your bottom lip. "show me how pretty you look with your mouth on my cock." he says hushedly.

you kneel in front of your boss, watching him hurriedly unbuckle his belt and reveal his cock to you. you take his length into your hand, stroking gently as you lower your head. he groans as you take his tip between your lips, teasing his cockhead with your tongue.

"you trying to kill me?" he quips. you smirk and take his cock further into your mouth and suck, bobbing your head down inch by inch until you can't fit any more comfortably. his eyes roll back and he groans, placing his hand gently on your head. "fuck," he hisses, "who knew little miss bonten was a pretty little cocksucker?" he smirks.

you moan and quicken your pace, jerking his cock a little harder now. you swirl your tongue on his tip and indulge in the taste of his precum. he grunts and groans, hips stuttering as he begins to teeter on the edge of his orgasm. "not gonna cum yet. not 'til you're bent over this desk."

he helps you off your knees then pushes your lower back down, tits spilling out of your top. he pushes your panties to the side and rubs a finger up and down your glistening sex, gently circling your clit. "this wet for me? fuck... need you to stay like this... always ready to take me."

the two of you moan collectively as he slides his cock into your cunt. he grips tightly onto your waist as he pushes deeper inside. "fuck baby, you were made for me..." he grins and thrusts his hips steadily, rubbing your clit in synch.

your eyes flutter as his tip presses sweetly against your g-spot. the stimulation on your clit sends your head into the clouds. "oh god– fuck! ran!" you mewl.

"you're taking me so well, sweet girl. you gonna cum already?" his smug response earns himself a whine from you. "or maybe you need it faster? harder?" he taunts, pounding his cock into you more hastily. you gasp as the feeling of his finger rubbing on your clit quickens too.

"MMM-! RAN!" you cry, "i'm cumming!" your muscles begin to tighten and your orgasm quickly washes over you. ran moans with you as you ride out your high, his own orgasm approaching. "fuuuuck yeah... cum all over my cock! you're so fucking good..."

he thrusts into you a couple more times then spurts his load inside you. he groans and slams your hips down on his cock, fucking his cum deeper into you. he places a few kisses on your back and shoulders as he comes down from his heightened pleasure.

while you're fixing yourself to return back to work, ran calls for your attention.

"don't let anyone else touch you. i want little miss bonten to myself."

dividers by benkeibear

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ taglist: @bloodsiren @milky-aeons @katkusuo

@i-literally-cant-with-this @manjiro-sanhoe @priv-rose

@reiners-milkbiddies @toji-girl-main @lees-chaotic-brain @darkstarlight82

@blueberrisdove @kodzukein @trevengersprincess

#ran haitani smut #ran haitani x reader smut #tokyo revengers smut #tokrev smut #tokrev x reader smut #tokyo revengers x reader smut #ran haitani #haitani ran

389 notes · View notes

dimplyowl · 2 months ago

Text

Today I want to talk about intentions. A while ago I made a post about why Izzy's toxic masculinity and internalized homophobia doesn't give him a free pass to treat other people like shit and then not try to atone for that. A lot of the Izzy apologists I see seem to be of that opinion: that because we take into consideration Ed's past trauma when thinking how his actions have hurt the people we care about, we should give Izzy the same grace.

Well, I don't actually think we should, and I'm going to tell you why.

First, though, I want to say that this isn't about attacking people who enjoy characters who are pieces of shit. Please, by all means, enjoy your grubby little shitstain characters (I absolutely have some of my own that I love). This is about discussing why it's problematic to twist the canonical narrative to label Ed as abusive and Izzy as a victim.

And, in my opinion, it comes down to intentions.

"But dimplyowl," you say, "someone's intentions don't matter when the result is harmful to the people around them!" And I think, to a point, yes, that's true. People who hurt others through careless or reckless behavior need to bear the responsibility of their actions and own up to it (something that imo Izzy does not do). But I think there's also a distinction that needs to be made between people who hurt and control others because they take pleasure in feeling powerful over them, and those who don't.

If we take a look at Izzy's actions in season one and compare them to Ed's actions in season two, in my personal opinion, it becomes clear that one of these men is someone who has repeatedly taken pleasure in mistreating the people around him, both insubordinates and people that he claims to "have love for." And that man isn't the dread pyrate Blackbeard.

Does Ed enact violence on other people? Yes. Does he "love a good maim?" Also yes. Does he enjoy hurting people? Mm, debatable. The thing about Ed is that he has a complicated relationship with violence. To him, it's a tool to be utilized when necessary. I think he certainly gets a sense of vindictive pleasure when instructing Fang to skin the French captain or when the people at the French party descend into chaos and set themselves on fire. But, importantly, it's because those are people who wronged him. Those are people who hurt him, who dug at his race and his background and took pleasure in using those things to hurt him.

But Ed doesn't enjoy violence for violence's sake. There's always a reason, whether it's in reaction to being insulted, belittled, or threatened, or whether it's because it's literally just in the job description, he has a reason.

In season two, his reason for mistreating the crew is that he's trying to provoke them into mutinying on him. And, like, honestly, he does a pretty shitty job of it. Up until we rejoin them, his big crime is overworking them. The crew is tired emotionally and physically, but for the most part they're unharmed. They lost Ivan on a raid, but any one of them could die on a raid at any time, because it's literally just a hazard of the job. Not a single one of them is even considering mutiny at this point.

Ed hits his breaking point when Izzy suggests that they try and "talk it through," and imo completely understandably. It's his fault that the morale on the ship is low, is it? It's his fault because he was sad and heartbroken and vulnerable? It's his fault because he was healing in his own way, but that wasn't acceptable to Izzy at the time, but now because the ship isn't fun for Izzy anymore, because Izzy is on the verge of losing his position of power as Blackbeard's first mate, now is when Izzy decides that maybe talking it through might actually be helpful? Yeah, if I were Ed, I would fucking shoot him too.

But not once do we get any evidence that Ed is taking any pleasure in wearing down the crew. When he hits his breaking point, he is very clearly not having a good time. He realizes that if he wants this to end, he needs to up the ante. He hands Izzy a loaded gun and offers himself up as an easy target. Izzy laughs at his suicidal boss, friend, someone that he "has love for", and tells him to do it himself. He prolongs Ed's suffering. He puts the crew in even more danger. And even as Ed is trying to make the crew kill him, he doesn't touch them. By this point, we've seen this crew turn to mutiny twice, once because of Stede's ineptitude and once because of Izzy's abuse when he took over as captain. It shouldn't take much to get them to act, and yet it takes Ed threatening to get them all killed in a storm for them to finally act. Because up until that point, he's been unstable, he's been clearly going through a crisis, but he hasn't hurt them, he hasn't been abusive. He's clearly not enjoying any of this, he's going through some shit, he's hurting, and they love him, and until their lives are imminent danger, they're discussing how to help him.

If Ed wanted to hurt them, if he wanted to push them into mutiny sooner, there are so many things he could have done to terrorize them. Instead until the point he decides he can't live anymore, his only hope is that either he'll get killed in a raid, or he'll overwork them enough that they'll kill him themselves. This is not about abusing his crew, this is about abusing himself.

In contrast, when we look at Izzy's behavior throughout season one, we see someone who very clearly enjoys his position of power over other people, and who gets pleasure out of abusing that power. In 1x2, he sows distrust and uncertainty in Ivan and Fang about Ed's decision-making, telling them that he's half-mad, keeping Ed separate from the crew, and discouraging any questions by asserting himself physically over Fang. (He then claims in 1x4 to have reassured the crew when they've doubted Ed's leadership, when in fact he seems to be the cause of that doubt). In 1x3 he blatantly lies to Ed about having "explicitly" (his word) told Stede that "Blackbeard wants a word with him." He is practically gleeful when he passes on Stede's message to go suck eggs in hell, clearly expecting that to get a rise out of Ed, certainly to get him to drop his fascination with the Gentleman Pirate, and probably intending for Ed to attack Stede himself for disrespecting him.

In 1x4, he flip flops between caring that some of their crew died while fighting the Spanish to get Stede and his crew, and telling Ivan and Fang to kill anyone who refuses to fight the Spanish. Intending to fight the Spanish warships that have caught up with him is absolutely going to get everyone slaughtered, when there are other options. Ed actually advises anyone who can to leave, knowing that that's their only chance for survival, and similarly he tells the Revenge crew to surrender when cornered by the British. In 1x4, he clearly considers every death that would occur to be his responsibility when he tells Stede that being Blackbeard means that everyone's going to die, and it's going to be all his fault. Who's the one who actually cares about what happens to his crew here?

In 1x5 Izzy attempts to exert control over Lucius and punish him for, apparently, not working on his day off? Never mind that there are two other people in that room who are slacking off. Izzy targets Lucius, who is an effeminate unapologetically gay man, who Izzy clearly believes will be an easy target. He attempts to mock his sexuality (which actually winds up being more telling on himself), decides that it's his right to tell someone else's crew what to do at all, and attempts to use Lucius as an example to show the rest of Stede's crew that their "days of doing fuck-all are over", but then doesn't give jobs to the rest of the crew? He catches one of his own crew members fucking off with Lucius, and from what we can extrapolate, decides to only punish Lucius, because clearly Lucius as the "seductress" is to blame. He threatens to blackmail Lucius into obeying him, is visibly enjoying threatening him and manipulating him, and leaves like a pissy toddler when he doesn't get his way. And by "get his way", I mean successfully gains control over someone through threats and manipulation.

In 1x6, he once again decides that an effeminate gay man needs to be punished for his existence, but this time it's Stede he sets his sights on. He decides that he needs to take action only after hearing Ivan say that he's never seen Ed so open and available. Izzy can't have that, because he needs Ed to be dependent on Izzy, so that Izzy can continue to isolate Ed from the rest of the crew, can remain the only source of contact between Ed and the crew, and thereby easily control and manipulate both parties. He pressures Ed into finally acting on what he said he would do, belittling Stede and Ed's connection to Stede by referring to Stede as Ed's pet. (It is not an accidental choice that the writers will later have another antagonist refer to Stede as Ed's pet; it's deliberate mirroring to Izzy as an antagonist). He uses Stede's ego to manipulate him into insisting on putting on the fuckery so that they can get rid of Stede today--almost as if he knows that putting immediate pressure on Ed to act won't give him time to reconsider, to rethink, to back out, to maybe consider why Izzy is so adamant about this--and then uses Stede and Ed's relationship to further manipulate Stede into doubling down on doing the fuckery when he's doubting himself. And doing it in possibly the creepiest way possible?? Stede literally puts up a physical barrier between them, and Izzy pushes against that, actually literally pushes up against the curtain to push against the boundary that Stede has put up.

And then when it's clear Ed isn't going to kill Stede, Izzy decides that he's going to take that decision out of Ed's hands. He decides he knows better than Ed what's best for him, places more value in his own decisions than Ed's, essentially mutinies on Ed by disobeying him, and on Stede by challenging him to a duel. He clearly believes he's going to win, and easily, in the process forcing someone he again claims to "have love for" to watch as he destroys the only thing that's brought hope and life and light and enjoyment back into Ed's life. He's embarrassingly easily goaded into losing his temper, relishes the moment he thinks he's won, the moment he stabs Stede, loses his temper again when his sword is stuck. Canyonites love to talk about Ed having anger problems, but this episode clearly demonstrates who actually has the anger problem. He looks to Ed when he realizes he's lost, as if Ed is going to forgive him, let him stay, when he just tried to kill Ed's friend and (only in Izzy's mind at that point) lover.

Izzy then turns to the fucking cops to turn Stede in. He reinforces his belief that Ed isn't capable of making his own decisions when he refers to Stede as having "done something" to Ed's brain, as if Ed is a weak-willed, easily manipulated child. He sends Jack in because he knows that Jack will put a wedge between Ed and Stede, and hopefully to get Ed out of there before the navy shows up. He apparently doesn't consider the fact that Ed is the most wanted pirate in the world, and if Jack doesn't succeed, will be in life-threatening danger. But maybe he doesn't care about that, considering what he tells Ed later.

He arranges for Ed to be put into his custody. Like, I shouldn't have to say anything about that, because it's fucking disgusting. Like Ed is property to be handed over to Izzy. He tries to convince Ed that Stede's execution is actually a kindness, despite knowing what it will do to Ed. When that fails, he tries to convince Ed not to take the Act and sign the contract, but...isn't that what Izzy himself just did?

In 1x9 we get more of his control and manipulation over the crew. Taking away a week of Wee John's rations for making a comment about Izzy's terrible name for his ship, as he is actively eating in front of him. Making Ivan and Fang serve him, telling them his food needs more salt, and then not even eating more of it when they salt it? Fucking gross. That move is all about control.

And then 1x10, which I shouldn't even have to talk about, but the fucking horrible way he treats Ed apparently is still something that goes over some peoples' heads. Once again keeping him secluded from the crew, refusing to give them answers about what's going on, keeping them busy by literally spitting on their clean deck, when he could have just dumped the coffee out on it. Watching Ed grieve and bond with the crew, once again deciding for Ed that he knows what's best for him, interrupting his grieving process, telling him that what he's become is worse than death. Threatening him that if he doesn't return to the very specific image that Izzy says Blackbeard is, that Izzy will kill him. Later on his deathbed apology admitting that he knew that being Blackbeard was harmful to Ed, but that he kept pressing because Izzy needed him, needed Blackbeard in order to feel powerful, to keep the level of respect and fear that other people had for him.

All of this paints a picture of a person who enjoys feeling powerful, who enjoys using that power to hurt and abuse and control the people around him, who will do anything, even at the detriment of someone that he has "love for", to keep that power for himself. A person who takes pleasure in hurting people, physically and emotionally.

I see a lot of people trying to say that what Ed did was worse than what Izzy did. I personally don't think it was, when you add up the consistent way that Izzy mistreats every person around him. But I think that what's even more important in this discussion are the intentions behind the hurt.

Ed did everything he could not to harm his crew until it became evident that the only way he could be successful in getting them to kill him would be by giving them a very present, very real threat. And even then, the way he went about doing it was very distant. Making Jim and Archie fight each other. Sailing directly into a storm. Damaging the ship to make an already dangerous situation even more dangerous.

Izzy repeatedly enjoyed exerting his control and physical and emotional violence on other people. He displayed a pattern of believing himself to be the only person capable of making the right choices, of removing the agency from the people around him, specifically of removing Ed, a person of color's, agency. He hurt every single person around him, all for his own benefit, for his own gain.

Maybe it comes down to value systems, maybe intentions behind someone's behavior really don't matter to you, but I know that I am much more forgiving of someone who hurt me as a byproduct of hurting themselves than I am someone who knowingly, repeatedly hurts people because they enjoy it.

#this is extremely long #if you made it to this point then wow #thank you #that's actually incredible #our flag means death #ofmd #ofmd s2 #edward teach #stede bonnet #ofmd meta #izzy hands hate club #izzy hands #izzy critical #izzy hands critical

116 notes · View notes

genericpuff · 7 months ago

Note

Are there any things you like about LO? Or is it all shit to you. Personally, I think it could be a great storyline with the right execution, but a lot of the stuff and plot is unnecessary (I.e. Hades being thousands of years older than Kore and making characters fall in love with people they are racist/classist towards 😨😨)

Oh there are LOADS of things that I liked and still enjoy about LO despite all the shit I've thrown at it. I love love LOVE a lot of the older art-

Like, damn, that shit is so charming! I swear I had that Tower 4 panel as my phone background for like, 2 years LOL

Rachel had a really strong understanding of shape language, composition, color theory, and expressive linework in a way that was really appealing and unique at the time, but along the way it was just lost, undoubtedly due to her taking more of a backseat in the character art process and leaving it to her assistants.

That said, there's a lot of... not so charming, too.

I think, on the one hand, there's a lot to appreciate in the old art that shouldn't be rejected as we criticize this series. At the end of the day, as much as we riff on it, many of us did love this series at one point in time, so we shouldn't cringe at what it used to make us feel or pretend like we were ever above it when we were very much lost in it for ages before it went down the tubes.

But there is a lot to be said about the effects of rose-colored glasses, and how LO was never perfect. The reality is that much of Rachel's work is exemplified by the odd beautiful thing that sticks in our memories, but when we actually go back to relive those memories, we find they're all strung together by some not so beautiful stuff that makes us go 'wait what???'

Case in point, with LO we remember beautiful compositions like this:

But then within those same episodes we get:

And it's like oh. Yikes.

Aside from the art, there was also the SA plot as well as the Act of Wrath. The SA plot felt really special to me at the time because I was someone who was once in Persephone's shoes, being pressured into sex that I wasn't ready for but wasn't capable of saying no to. I can appreciate what Rachel was trying to do with that plot, but over time it became clear that she wasn't committed to seeing that plotline through and so I kind of just dropped my expectations for it entirely.

That said, it wasn't the SA plotline that set me off. I had good faith in that one still that it would be addressed eventually. It was the Act of Wrath plotline that did me in. The premise of it was totally my cup of tea in the way of "quirky character has a dark evil backstory!" which is shit that I absolutely LOVE, but then when the "twist" happened that Eris was the one to give her wrath, that was literally when I had my almost "canon event" moment of realizing "wait... I don't think Rachel knows what she's doing." And then it was just all downhill from there. The S2 finale sealed my fate LOL

All that said, as much as my brain is often defaulting to "ew! gross! bad!!!" in all honesty I do still appreciate what LO meant to be back when I still enjoyed it. It meant enough to me that I just couldn't let it the fuck go when it started to go downhill, so much so that I started making my own version of it! And that's something that sets it apart so much more from other comics I really don't like anymore (or comics I never liked to begin with) like Down to Earth, The Kiss Bet, Let's Play, etc. where I really can't even be bothered to think about them let alone talk about them to the extent I do about LO. I may be full of beans when it comes to LO, but I'd still rather be talking about it and all its failings and what it used to mean to me than about any of those other works. I loved it enough to still want it in my life and that's what Rekindled has accomplished for me.

#ask me anything #ama #anon ama #anon ask me anything #lore olympus critical #anti lore olympus #lo critical

266 notes · View notes

wenellyb · 6 months ago

Text

How I feel about Buddie...

You guys have been warned, this is a long post.

I've always liked 911 and was a casual viewer but never got involved in the fandom or anything. Of course I knew about Buddie, but I personally never saw it. Buck and Eddie have always acted like best friends and do stuff best friends do. I have never seen any scene that could be interpreted as romantic, except maybe for the "you want to go for the title" scene. But to me it wasn't enough to ship them, especially since it was the only scenes in their hundreds of scenes together that could be seen as romantic.

That being said, I've always thought the ship was cute, and I understand it because who doesn't like a good friends to lovers storyline?

I just never got involved in the fandom because their behavior reminded me of the Stucky and Destiel fandom, which were chaotic experiences for me. Some people just don't know how to handle non canon ships and act entitled, complain to the showrunners and harrass the cast. I've always tried to avoid fandoms like that, but wasn't against the idea of Buddie as a ship.

The 911 Lone Star crossover episode for me was the confirmation that Buck was into men. To me, it was obvious they confirmed he was into men but hadn't set up a storyline yet. So naturally I thought... if they set up a storyline it will be with Eddie. There was no doubt it my mind.

So fast forward, a few years, I wasn't really watching season 7 and then I see all the fuss from Buddie shippers I follow, and it makes me watch the sneak peek video from 7x04 and I'm like....For sure Buck is being jealous right? (it was the scene where Eddie interrupted Tommy giving Buck a tour)

So I decided to watch the episode convinced this was going to be the episode where they confirmed Buddie, but I was also very cautious because Buddie shippers had cried wolf too many times before.

So I was careful, but I was also convinced that this was it: "Buck was going to get jealous of Eddie hanging out with Tommy and then confess his feelings or the other way around".

And that's actually what was happening until the end of the episode, we saw Buck get jealous, and most of us assumed he was being jealous about Eddie.

We didn't figure out until the end of the episode that it was all about Tommy.

And that's the beauty of that episode because you think you're watching something when in fact you're watching something else and when you rewatch some scenes you understand it, and that plot twist was written so beautifully.

So we have Buck and Tommy have a heart to heart in Buck's kitchen and they kiss. And what a kiss... the kiss itself was Nice but the look Buck gave Tommy after the kiss was breathtaking.

From that moment on, I was rooting for them.

But I still had Buddie at the back of my mind because I was thinking, what if this is all temporary and they're planning to break them up to set up a buddie storyline? So I shipped it but didn't want to get my hopes up.

This feeling got bigger when I started watching 7x05 and I saw the way their first date ended. I thought... this is it, we might not see Tommy again, what a shame. But then Buck talked to Maddie about his date and confessed it was with Tommy. And Maddie asked: "so tell me about the hot pilot", and I thought this isn't how they'd talk about a character we never see again. But I didn't know for sure.

Maybe they were setting up a Buck x Eddie storyline....

I changed my mind when I saw Buck's coming out scene to Eddie, the scene was beautiful and at that point I still was thinking Buddie was a possibility. But one line made me think that Buddie wasn't happening: "I can't stop thinking about him".

No writer would put a line like that and have Oliver say it like that with that look, if they were thinking Buck and Eddie would have a romantic scene in the future. And if you do write that, you would get a jealous reaction from the other character, not a "You should call Tommy".

And then I was conforted in my feelings when the writers doubled down and had Buck invite Tommy to Maddie's wedding. Buck could have just apologized and asked Tommy on antoher date, but no, he invited him to his sister's wedding.

There has been absolutely no hint of a romantic relationship between Buck and Eddie throughout the season. There has never been a sign of jealousy from Buck or Eddie's side when they were dating Tommy, Marisol. If they had been setting up that storyline, the writers would put some hints here and there. Instead, they shared meaningful scenes like best friends do.

I never had anything againdt Buddie as a ship, I was even open to it, but all the times I thought Buddie was going to happen, it was because of the fandom, not because of something I saw in the saw...To me Buddie is and will stay a fanon ship.

TL:DR: I don't hate the ship, I find it cute but the behavior of some shippers has made me want to stay away from the fandom. And when I thought Buddie might be happening, the writers showed us they had long term plans for Bucktommy.

#evan buckley #eddie diaz #tommy kinard #bucktommy #platonic buddie #911 abc #long post

161 notes · View notes

sentientcave · 3 months ago

Text

Heavy Weighs the Crown

Chapter 5 - Plans Laid in Darkness

< Prev Chapter - Chapter Index -

Read on AO3

Contains: Generic fantasy setting, Princess Reader/OC, No Y/N, Politicking, Hail Kastovia!, We are learning to communicate, Soap is a good boy, canon typical violence, Konig (derogatory)

~5.2k words - MDNI

"Hello, princess," Kate says. She's using that dry, guarded tone that she used to use, before you got comfortable with each other. It's like you're strangers again, and not women that spent the past six years living under the same roof. It makes your heart ache— She's family. Really your only family, even if you have no shared blood.

She's wearing a dark cloak with embroidery of dark, nearly invisible ravens and bright stars around the hood and hem, a midwinter gift from you and her wife, that you spent weeks working on. You can see the top edge of the thick woolen socks that you knit her over the edge of her boots. You'd mended and reinforced the pockets on her trousers countless times. Kate was always hard on her clothes. You used to tease her about it when she'd come to you, sheepishly bearing a torn out pocket or a ripped seam. She always made up some silly story about how it had happened, just to make you laugh.

But she stands in front of you as the Watcher, the spymaster, and not as your Aunt Katie, and you don't care for it one bit.

She tenses when you stride across the room to her, but relaxes when you throw your arms around her tightly. "I missed you," you say softly. "I wish you'd told me what was going on."

"I know, honey. I thought I'd have more time. John promised not to interfere with you so long as you didn't interfere with him or his men. He's never broken his word before."

"He still hasn't," you admit. "It was my fault. A bird flew up and startled sir Garrick's horse, and I chased after. He was sleeping by the road, and…" you trail off, realizing what had really happened. It was too easy to forget that Kyle had a knack for illusion. He'd spooked the horse on purpose. "Well, he tricked me, and I fell for it."

Kate huffed out a laugh. "I should have been more careful with my phrasing. John is far too good at twisting things to his advantage."

You hum in agreement, turning towards the door when you hear a sharp knock. It opens before you can say anything, but it's just Farah, and not one of the men.

"Commander Karim," Kate says. "Good to see you again."

"Always a pleasure, Watcher," Farah responds, nodding politely. "I owe you a favour for the intel one of your ravens gave me a few weeks ago. Saved my men from walking into an ambush."

"No favour necessary. You actually helped me clean up a mess that same day." Kate smiles wolfishly. "My raven caught his mark when they turned tail to run."

Farah nods. “Then it seems we help each other.”

The two of them talk while you get ready, and flank you as you make your way down to the appropriate parlour, although Kate gives you a quick kiss on the cheek and heads off down the hall rather than follow you into the room like Farah does.

That’s always been her way. You’re sure you’ll see her later.

The Kastovian ambassador sits in a a chair by the window, dressed in a dark red suit. He smiles and stands whn you enter the room, Kate and Farah a step behind you. “Princess!” he says warmly, hands outstretched. “You are more radiant than I imagined you would be. It is not fair that John has been hiding you away all this time.” He pulls you close when he takes your hands, and kisses you on each cheek, closer to your mouth than is necessary.

“It was my choice to remain out of sight. I feared my presence would be a distraction from John’s work. I worried hat I would be as well loved as my father.” You smile, and sit next do John. “It seemed I did not need to fear so.”

“Of course not! Your father was a wicked man. You were not the one waging wars, your majesty. You were just a girl,” Nikolai continues. “And no you are a beautiful woman. Your kind heart is evident.”

“Beauty has little to do with kindness.”

Nikolai grins. “No. Or I would be a much better man than I am.” He settles back in his chair and picks up his wine glass. He raises it, looking at you over the rim, dark eyes glimmering. “To beauty and kindness.”

John hands you a wine glass, and you raise it in response. “To good sense and diplomacy.”

John hums next to you, pleased with how you’re handling the ambassador, by your guess. He levels an unimpressed look at Nikolai. “Are you satisfied?”

“No, it’s much too soon. I will let you know when I am satisfied, your lordship. It will not be until I speak to her majesty alone.” His mismatch of your titles is clearly intentional, meant to rile John up, make him commit a mistake. “But I do hope to be fed first, or I will try to eat you up, majesty. I’m afraid I have a weakness for beautiful women such as you.”

You steal a glance at Ghost, at the war mask, the visage of a skull glaring at the ambassador. You prefer the blank fencers mask, but you can see his eyes like this, deep brown, pale lashes catching the light. Farah stands next to him, almost comically small in comparison. By the forward tilt of the mask, Ghost isn’t pleased with the ambassadors tone, and Farah’s disdain is clear. Both of them have their hands braced on their belts. It was probably a good idea to have them remove their swords before entering the room, although you suspect that each of them is still armed to the teeth.

The man standing behnd Nikolai’s chair is similarly braced. He’s huge, taller even than Ghost, though not quite as broad, and masked as well, with something that looks like an executioner’s hood. The cold gleam of his eyes makes you shudder, until a wet nose pushes under your palm. You relax a bit, petting your hand over Soap’s fuzzy head, glad for the reassurance.

“I trust your journey was an easy on,” you say, changing the subject from how edible you look. “You arrived quite quickly.”

“Luckily, I was already on my way. Your cousin sends his regards, majesty. He is disappointed that he cannot be here himself.” Nikolai eyes Soap suspiciously, but says nothing.

“If he were so concerned, why did he never inquire after her?” John asks. “So many years with no mention.”

“Perhaps he was concerned that a mention of her would have you expanding your search,” Nikolai suggested. “He could not not be certain that she could be safe with you either.”

“As you can see, I’m quite safe, thank you,” you say pleasantly. “John allowed me time in the country to recover from the stress of the war. It was very kind of him.” You smile at John, warning him to behave himself. It would do no one any good for him to scrap with the ambassador. “It was good for me.”

“Clearly. You were too thin before. Listless. And now you’re vibrant and lovely. It is heartening to see.” Nikolai continued to smile, not once dropping his friendly mask. “Of course, you were little more than a child when last we met. Perhaps you do not remember me.”

Did you recall? Of course you remembered being trotted out during the many failed bids for peace between your homeland and Kastovia. Nikolai wasn’t just any ambassador, he was a prince, one of the younger ones. Not likely to ever take the Kastovian throne himself, unless his brother and grown-up nieces and nephews were all to perish. Not likely, unless foul play was involved. It was understandable, why he was so interested in securing an alliance through marriage to you, even though during those talks you had only been fifteen, and still too young to marry. It would have been a long engagement, but peace fell apart long before you turned eighteen, blessedly, or you would have been married to him, probably with a few children by now.

Nikolai seemed a pleasant enough sort of man, but there was something calculating in his eyes, like he was mentally tallying what everyone in the room was worth to him. You’re not sure you’d care for a husband who kept such a close eye on his ledgers.

“I remember.” You give Soap another scratch behind the ears, glad to have the comforting weight of his big head on your knee. “Strange to think of what could have been.”

“If I’d known you would grow into such a beauty, I would have worked harder to negotiate peace.” Nikolai looks at John as he says that, but his eyes flicker back to you quickly. “I suspect you will make a pretty bride.”

“I certainly hope so,” you say blithely. “Now, why don’t we move to the dining room? I’m sure you’re very hungry, after so much travel.”

“Starving,” he says.

Farah makes a scoffing noise behind you, but manages not to say whatever scalding thing comes to mind. You make a mental note to thank her for her restraint later. She told you already that she has no love for Kastovians, but she’s kept a cool head. Certainly a cooler head than John, who looks ruffled.

Both he and Nikolai offer you an arm to escort you to the dining room, but you tuck your hand into the crook of Nikolai’s arm, since he’s the guest. John’s frown deepens, but it’s not your job to manage a grown man’s emotional state. He’s a king, and it’s up to him to act like it.

There’s a certain tesnion in the air over dinner, summering under the light conversation. Nikolai takes a perverse sort of delight in saying things that are polite on the surface, and insulting if you think about them for more than a minute, although he directs all of these hidden barbs at John. To you he’s entirely charming, his dark eyes laughing whenever John leans in to speak to you quietly. It would be funny to watch the two of them have their polite little battle, if you were not the object that they both seemed to covet.

John’s possessive little displays are nothing if not an annoyance. You look forward to leaving again, and going home, back to your cozy room in Kate’s house, back to your chickens and your village and your routines. You’ll miss Kyle and Ghost and Johnny, but you’re sure they’ll visit if you ask. Ghost might even go back to his double life as a blacksmith, and you can pretend you never sussed him out, and actually talk to him, rather than just exchange the odd glance now and again. John will be much less free to make little visits to unimportant former princesses, and probably busy finding himself a suitable wife to mother his children and secure his bloodline.

Finally, dinner ends without anyone losing their temper, and the others retreat to the green parlour as you escort Nikolai to the next room. Farah and Soap stay by your side, although Nikolai’s own guard is dismissed.

“I had hoped to speak with you privately,” Nikolai says, raising his eyebrows at Farah pointedly.

“Commander Karim is my personal guard, as well as my friend. She would soon know anything you had to say to me regardless, so if you cannot say what you wish to in front of her, consider holding your tongue.” You sit, and Soap settles himself at your feet, the very picture of a loyal hound. “Now, what can I do for you, sir?”

“You should take me as your husband. Forget whatever deals you have made with John. Forget that idiot cousin of yours. I know wha it means to rule. You would not have to worry about any more wars with my people, or anything at all. I would gladly lift all burdens from your lovely shoulders.” He makes his bid standing before you, keeping a safe distance, wary of Soap’s sharp teeth. “I would treat you well, your majesty. Like you deserve.”

You sit back in the chair, eyes half lidded, giving no emotion away, although you almost wish to laugh at the audacity. “Is that all?” you ask mildly.

“Would you like more?” he asks. “Favourable trade agreements, perhaps, or land? My own lands lay just across the border, I could cede them to you. Name your desire, my lady, and you can have it.”

“I desire nothing that you could give me, except to deliver my sincere wishes that my dear cousin sets aside his ambition for the throne. John has made a fine king for these past few years, and I hope he continues to be for many more.” You smile, all polite restraint still. “Is there anything else that you wish to say?”

Nikolai looks at you, eyes narrowing slightly, his calculation of you changing somewhat. He’s not pleased by your refusal to even entertain his offer, but not surprised either. “Such loyalty, despite what he did to your father. How has he earned such devotion?”

“By being a good man, and improving the lot of my people. There is nothing else I need from him.”

Nikolai nods. “I see.”

“I hope you’ll excuse me, I’d like to speak with Commander Karim. I believe the others have returned to the green parlour, if you’d like to rejoin them.”

He doesn’t balk at the dismissal either, just gives a shallow bow and leaves.

“That was the right response,” Farah says approvingly. “If he though there was even a chance to gain your hand he would spend the rest of the evening behaving very badly. It would not look good if John or Ghost hits him.”

Soap gets up from his spot on the floor and trots behind a chair, the bone crunching sound of his transition filling the room for a moment. “Sweetpea,” he says, his fingers gripping the upholstery nervously. “I think there’s somethin’ you should know.”

“What it it?” you ask.

He swallows hard, blue eyes darting between you and the door. “John intends to marry ye tomorrow. He figured if he manuevered things just so hat you wouldn’t be able to refuse him, but I think you ought tae know.”

Farah goes extremely still, her eyebrows snapping together with an almost audible click. “He didn’t tell you?”

You drop your head into your hands, trying to control the spike of anger. “Oh, I’m going to kill him,” you say. “I am going to murder that man.”

“I will assist,” Farah promises.

“I am sorry I didnae say somethin’ earlier,” Johnny says, shoulders raised defensively, as though he still expects that you might shout at him. “I shoulda. S’just— It’s Price. He’s been good tae me. But yer so sweet, and you deserved tae know.” He looks a bit green from betraying his friend’s trust, but relieved too. It must have been weighing heavy on his mind.

You stand, and walk over to him, cupping his face gently between your palms. “Thank you for telling me.” Impulsively, you press a kiss to his mouth, not expecting the enthusiastic response. He pulls you closer, arms sliding around your back, his tongue lapping across your lips. He kisses messily, without much finesse, but it’ sweet, in it’s own way, how excited he is about it.

Your hands skirt down the tops of his arms, finding the raised edges of scarring you hadn’t noticed under all his freckles. Bumpy, textured skin, like there was sand trapped under the surface. In his wolf form he has bluish grey patches here, and running down his spine and legs. Did the pattern follow the scarring? Or was it just coincidence?

“No kiss for me?” Farah asks. You can hear the smirk in her voice even before you release Johnny and turn around.

“Would you like a kiss, Farah?” you ask.

“Maybe,” she says non-commitally. “Later, perhaps. Do you want to rejoin the others?”

You shake your head. “No, would you mind letting John know that I’m turning in early? Since tomorrow will be such a busy day.”

Farah levels another one of her impressive frowns at you. “I don’t want to leave you alone while those barbarians are here.”

“Johnny will come with me. And he’ll stat with me tonight?” You glance at him for confirmation. “So you can take some time for yourself, Farah. He’ll keep me safe.”

“He had better. I’ll see you in the morning, princess.” She gives Johnny a stern look before she nods to you and leaves the room.

It takes a moment for Johnny to shift back into a wolf, but you step out into the hallway as soon as he does, resting a hand on his head as he trots beside you, tail wagging. You’re quiet, not just because your companion can’t speak, but because you have a lot to mull over. The initial anger has subsided into resignation. You should have known that Price would hear only I’ll support you in any way you need and not your refusal to become his wife. He really is the most infuriating man you’ve ever met in your life.

You are disappointed in Kyle and Ghost as well, but you suspect that Kyle had been about to tell you when the ambassador arrived and John called you down.

The two of them are waiting outside your room, however, with sober, contrite expressions. Well, Kyle, anyway, but here’s an unease to Ghost’s posture that communicates that he feels much the same way, his shoulders tense and head hung low, like a dog waiting for a beating.

“Johnny told me,” you say, because there can be no other reason for their guilt.

The twin exhales of breath almost make you laugh. “We should’ve told you right off,” Ghost says. “Didn’t want to go against John, but—”

“It’s alright, I understand.” And you do, if you’re being honest. It would be foolish to expect them to take your side right away. That they are now still means something. “Do you think I should go through with it?”

Soap wuffs, and Kyle and Ghost look at each other.

“Yeah, we do,” Kyle says.

You regard them for a long moment, and then open your door. “Come in, please.” They follow, and you close the door behind them. The dress sits on a form by your closet, dark green and beautifl. The cream embroidery makes sense now, you can feel the prickle of magic lingering on the weave. You dispell it with a thought, and the illusion melts away, leaving a white gown behind.

“That’s that then.” You sit on th edge of the bed with a sigh. Soap hops up and curls around your back, and Kyle and Ghost settle on each side of you. “I’m going to be queen after all.”

“You’ll be good at it,” Ghost assures you. “You’re smart.”

“And kind. Well reasoned. You care about people, understand them better than John does,” Kyle continues, taking one of your hands, tracing a finger over your knuckles idly. “I think the people need you. Should’ve heard how excited Rosie was about you comin’ back.”

“I haven’t earned that,” you protest. “I haven’t done anything foranyone yet. I have no idea how—” You stop yourself short. Of course you have an idea of what to do. The entirety of your childhood was spent dedicated to learning everything there was to know about being queen. It’s been your destiny before you understood what fate meant.

Everything you learned has just been shoved aside, locked away. It’s time to remember, and accept your role. It’s all a part of you, the good and the bad.

Even the crown.

“Thank you for telling me, even if it does come a little late.” You squeeze Kyle’s hand and pat Ghost on the knee. “I do hope you’ll be more forthright in the future.”

“We’ll ‘ave t’be,” Ghost says. “Can’t be lyin’ to the queen now can we? Not even if John tells us to.”

“Certainly not,” Kyle agrees. “Now, do you want your hair braided for tomorrow? I’m sorry— About yesterday, I—”

“Consider it forgiven. Just don’t do it again!”

You do accept the help with your braids, focusing on sectioning and braiding thr front while Kyle works from the back, summoning a pair of hands that mirror his movements neatly. Ghost and Johnny sit close, watching with curious eyes.

It takes a while— You’re not sure how long— and you’re yawning by the time you’re through. Soap has his head leaned on Ghost’s thigh, half asleep. Ghost hasn’t moved since he settled there, still as a statue. You thank Kyle for his help. You’re not sure that your curls would be in good shape if you left them loose another night.

You stop Ghost when he says goodnight, tugging at his sleeve before he opens the door to leave. “I’ve kissed Kyle and Johnny,” you admit. “And John. Would you like a kiss too? It only seems fair, since I won’t be able to do it again when I’m married.”

“Close your eyes for me,” he says, and you do immediately, your face tipped upwards. You hear the shift of fabric, and then his fingers brush your jaw, so gently, holding you still as he leans in.

His kiss is almost unbearably sweet, soft and gentle, no push to deepen the kiss until you pitch up onto your toes to press closer, hands gripping his shirt. You can feel the scrape of stubble on your chin, smell smoke and cedar on his skin. There’s a slight dip on his upper lip, a scar that hadn’t been visible at dinner the first night, with you seated on his other side. You hum, touching the spot with your tongue. He growls in response, crushing you closer for just a moment before he lets you go.

You wait until he says you can open your eyes before you do. The skull mask lets you see his eyes properly, and there’s fondness shining out from them as he looks at you.

“Goodnight, princess,” he says softly.

You catch his arm again. “Will you walk me down the aisle?” you ask. “It’s fine if you’d rather not, but you’ve been my guardian for a long time. Kate’s the only other person who would do, and she hates being in the centre of things.”

His eyes crease with a smile. “I’d be honoured.”

Soap stays underfoot while you get ready for bed, until you shoo him out of the bathroom so you can change into your nightgown. He whines outside the door, which makes you laugh. “Just a moment, you silly boy,” you scold him. “I’m not letting you see me undressed again.”

He sighs audibly, and there’s a thump as he flops onto the floor.

The two of you settle into bed shortly after, and you fall asleep quickly, arms curled around his neck.

A few hours later, the door to the balcony opens, so quietly that you might not have fully noticed it if not for the way Soap tenses, silently wiggling free of your arms.You squint into the darkness, but there’s not enough light for you to see anything.

“I’m going to turn on the light,” you breathe, barely putting any power behind the words, trusting Soap’s canine ears to pick up what you say. “Close your eyes so it doesn’t blind you. In one, two three!” You reach over and tap the lamp, screwing your eyes shut against the sudden glare as you tip yourself off the bed and onto the floor.

You hear muffled swearing, and peek over the edge of the bed as Soap launches himself at Nikolai’s giant, masked bodyguard, teeth bared in a terrible snarl.

You scramble up and run for the door. “John!” you shout, and then turn to help Soap, although you’re no fighter. You couldn’t just leave him to deal with the man alone.

Soap is growling fiercely, his teeth sunk deep into the man’s arm, but the giant has a knife in his other hand, already slick with blood. Soap’s fur is matted down around his ribs, stained rusty red.

You grab the giant’s other arm and hold on tight, digging in your heels to keep him from stabbing Soap again. He shakes him loose instead, throwing him by the scruff into the bookcase, breaking shelves with a splintery crash. He jerks his arm to shake you loose as well, and backhands you, sending you stumbling backward.

You catch a glimpse of blood-shot, malicious blue eyes through the holes in the giant’s mask, and then a huge hand grips you by the throat, cutting off your air. He raises the knife.

A dark shape hurtles into the room, and the giant lets you go with a pained shout. You land hard, breathless, and John grabs you, hauling you up and putting his broad body between you and the grisly scene that is surely unfolding behind him. The sound of a knife cutting into flesh, over and over and over, the giant begging for mercy until he fell silent.

It’s awful. Your stomach churns, but you manage to not throw up.

“Sweetpea, are you alright?” John asks, pulling your attention back to him, gripping your shoulders just a little too hard when you try to look around him again.

“I’m fine— Soap’s hurt.” You look for him and find him right where he’d been thrown, although he’s staggering up onto his paws now, blue eyes unfocused, blood still oozing from the wounds on his side. Shaking loose from John, you rush to his side, throwing your arms around his neck, pressing your face into his fur. He leans into you, somehow managing to lick your ear.

John kneels down beside you and places a hand on Soap’s flank. Blue light flares between his palm and Soap’s injury. “There we go. Good boy,” he says softly, patting Soap on the head as he stood up again. “Kept our girl safe.”

There’s a commotion in the hallway now, guards and servants and Kyle pushing their way into the room. You sneak a glance at Ghost. There’s a slash through his shirt-sleeve, and a cut dripping blood onto the floor, but he seems unhurt otherwise. The giant however— You take one look at the spreading pool of blood and the mess of blood and bone and press your face back into Soap’s ruff, shaking.

John picks you up and carries you across the hall to his study so that the guards can get into your room to deal with the body. You look at Ghost over John’s shoulder. “You’re hurt. Let John heal you.”

He shakes his head. “Waste of magic. I’ll be fine.”

“Will you let me clean it up at least?” you ask. “I don’t want it to get infected.”

He huffs. “Fine.”

John sets you down, but your legs don’t feel steady yet. You lean into him for support, glad for the warm, solid bulk of him. He holds you until you stop shaking, barking orders over your head.

You press your face into John’s shirt when Soap shifts back into Johnny, the sound of bone crunching and tendons snapping a bit too similar to the sound of Ghost turning the giant into a bloody mess. There’s some kerfuffle as someone brings tea and supplies for you to clean Ghost’s wound, and John finally lets you go so you can get to work.

You focus on washing away the blood and dabbing stinging antiseptic onto the cut as Knight Captain Keller steps into the study to report. “We’ve had the ambassador confined to his quarters,” he says. “You may question him at your leisure. Gaz is laying wards on the room to keep him from working some nasty Kastovian magics. Should I arrange extra security for the ceremony tomorrow? Or do you think it best to postpone.”

“Extra security. Thank you, captain. Did the giant survive?”

Alex snorts, and then glances at you, his expression a hair guilty. “Um, no sir. I doubt his own mother would recognize him now.”

Ghost flexes his hands. His knuckles are bloody, so you clean up that blood too. Once the door shuts behind the knight captain, he takes his shirt off to make it easier for you to bandage his arm. You try to keep your eyes from wandering over all his pale, marred skin. There’s so many scars that you can hardly bear to think of how much violence he’s endured.

“I don’t think Nikolai was behind this,” you say, glancing at John as he sits heavily in his chair, running a hand over his beard tiredly. “He has nothing to gain by killing me. I don’t believe he’s any great champion of my cousin’s.”

“Why do you say that?” John asks.

“He proposed to me earlier, and called Phillip an idiot— And with lands along the border, he would put his own territory at risk if there is another war. It’s more likely that the assassin was paid directly by my dear cousin.” You wind a length of clean linen around Ghost’s bicep, tying it tight.

“He proposed?” John asked, focusing on the wrong part of your words.

“Yes, but—”

“What did you say?”

You consider telling him that you know what he plans, but there’s something satisfying about making him sweat a little bit. “I’m not sure that’s any of your business.”

“I beg to differ. I’d like to know all the same.”

You meet his eyes evenly. “I turned him down.”

John takes a deep breath in and lets it out slowly, looking relieved. “Good.”

Johnny huffs, staying uncharacteristically quiet. He looks worn out, the toll of shifting back and forth and his injury leaving him exhausted. He’s eaten everything on the plate someone brought up, leaving only crumbs.

You’re tired too. The shakes have finally subsided, leaving you with nothing, a candle burnt down to sputtering wax. “I’d like to go back to bed. I don’t suppose I can go back to my own room yet?”

John shakes his head. “It’ll take a little while to clean up. You can sleep in my bed. I’ll be up a while yet, I’ll find somewhere else for the night.”

You nod, and glance at Johnny. “Will you come with me?”

He nods, gulping down the last of his cup of tea. “Aye. Keep ye safe if anyone else tries anythin’ foolish.” He folds himself back into wolf shape while you say goodnight to John and Ghost.

They bid you goodnight as well, although there is some envy in their eyes as they watch you slip through the door into John’s room, Soap by your side.

Soap sniffs around the new space suspiciously, and only settles into the bed beside you once he’s satisfied that there’s nothing amiss, laying his head across your stomach, ears perked up, flicking around at every little noise. You tap the lamp and close your eyes, comforted by his vigilance and warm weight and the pillow that smells like John, warm spice and tobacco smoke.

You try not to think about anything else.

I'm so sorry this took 9 million years to post, I wrote it by hand in July and just did not type it. But the good news is that Chapter 6 is also written and I am dedicated to getting it done so expect that before the end of the month. I love you all, thank you so much for your patience.

Image credits: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 -

Divider by CafeKitsune - Flower Divider by Saradika-Graphics

#Cave writing #Heavy Weighs the Crown #Chapter 5 - Plans Laid in Darkness #Uh oh #OC: Sweetpea #poly141 x reader #x reader #x OC #John Price x Reader #John Price x OC #Fantasy AU #Oh Sweetpea we're really in it now

83 notes · View notes