#go follow her instead she's way funnier

[dragontummy]

hey real quick. why is it the second we post a screenshot of someone else's tags that version of the post does infinitely better than any of our original posts

[thewispsings]

better streamer | max verstappen

pairing; max verstappen x streamer!reader

summary; after getting completely demolished on stream by user; fartsnifer max makes it his life purpose to win a game against her. to bad he never does and they fall in love instead.

— fartsnifer has posted new photos!

liked by, charlesleclerc, and 57,924 others!

fartsnifer: very nice stream tonight! thank you so much to all those who joined 🫶🫶 and thank you to all of my new followers! welcome, you are now all official fartsnifers 🔥

view comments below!

user1: i love your content but i will not be identified as a fartsnifer.

user2: i too did not want to identify as a fartsnifer. i am now proud to be one 😕

user3: being a fartsnifer is a PRIVILEGE. be proud

user4: i’m sorry but i can’t take you guys seriously while you’re calling yourself fartsnifers 😭😭

user5: this is the girl who embarrassed the f1 grid in cod?!?

user6: this is her!!!

charles_leclerc: @/maxverstappen1, @/landonorris, @/georgerussell63, @/oscarpiastri @/logansargent, @/alex_albon, @/danielricciardo

user7: bro tagged the whole family 💀

user8: LMAO CHARLES???

user9: how did he find her so quick 😭

user10: basically all of f1twt is talking about her 😭😭

maxverstappen1: @/fartsnifer check dms.

user11: MAX WHATTT

user12: willing to bet he’s asking her for a rematch

user13: that’s so ominous “check dms.” LIKE DAMN OKAY

user14: max just accept that she is better than you. it’s okay.

georgerussell63: well well well, if it isn’t fartsnifer herself.

fartsnifer: well well well, if it isn’t the guy who scream like a girl

georgerussell63: um actually, that was @/landonorris, NOT me.

landonorris: why are you lying?

user15: y/n replying to george and not max is killing me 😭

maxverstappen1: check dms.

user16: this is embarrassing max, one comment was enough

user17: i think he wants y/n to check her dms?

oscarpiastri: good game tonight! 👊

fartsnifer: thanks piastri!

user18: thank you oscar for showing y/n that f1 drivers do in fact have decorum 🧍

logansargent: don��t fraternize with the enemy Oscar.

maxverstappen1: check dms please.

user19: oh max…

user20: it just got even more embarrassing

user21: the way y/n is very clearly ignoring him is SO FUCKING FUNNY

user22: i love your content pls don’t die

danielricciardo: please answer Max’s messages.

user23: daniel did max make you do this???

danielricciardo: yes.

maxverstappen1: check dms.

user24: OMG MAX WE GET ITTTT

user24: y/n please answer his dms this is getting sad to watch

— y/n l/n and max verstappen have shared a collaborated post!

liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc, landonorris, and 392,839 others!

fartsnifer: join my stream tonight to watch me humiliate this 3x wdc!! 👊👊

view comments below!

user25: omg she actually answered his messages 😭

maxverstappen1: that is not the photo we agreed on.

fartsnifer: but this one was so much funnier!!

user26: oh i WILL be tuning in

user27: this is going to be the funniest thing ever

user28: strangers to lovers…

user29: OH BROTHERRR

landonorris: best buddy’s with the enemy now mate?

maxverstappen1: i must win.

user30: i love that photo of max

user30: the ways he’s just 🧍

charles_leclerc: woohoo!! go y/n 👏👏

georgerussell63: fake.

landonorris: she is the enemy charles!

logansargent: after she humiliated us on stream? i can’t believe this.

maxverstappen1: you sick traitor. after everything we’ve been through?

charles_leclerc: i like her videos guys 😕

user31: charles leclerc a official fartsnifer confirmed!!

user32: i was planning to sleep early today….but this seems more important

user33: oh but if i said enemies to friends to lovers…

user34: i would say you’re delusional!! 😝😝

— y/n has posted new photos!

liked by maxverstappen1, oscarpiastri, and 583,826 others!

fartsnifer: life feels good when you don’t have to pay for your own dinners 🤤 @/maxverstappen1

view comments below!

user35: hasn’t it already been over a month 🤨

user36: i think they played again and if y/n won max had to pay her dinners for ANOTHER month

user37: they just want an excuse to keep in touch 😒😒

user36: oh most definitely LMAOOO

maxverstappen1: when did i get you sushi?

fartsnifer: like three days ago remember????

maxverstappen1: ah yes! i remember now

user37: max is literally traveling the world racing and still finds time to order y/n dinner online EVERY SINGLE DAY.

user38: he wants her so bad and you can’t convince me otherwise 😐

landonorris: can you play today?

fartsnifer: don’t you have quali today???!?!

landonorris: i mean after 😒

fartsnifer: yeah just tell me when

maxverstappen1: can i join?

user39: omg max no

user40: oh i just got the worst second hand embarrassment jesus christ

user41: that was the saddest sentence ever written

fartsnifer: ofc you can maximilian!!

charles_leclerc: you shouldn’t try this delicious italian restaurant! i’ll send max the address!!

fartsnifer: thank you charles 🫶🫶

maxverstappen1; don’t thank him 🙄 I’m the one buying it.

user42: don’t be jealous max…

liked by 273,827 others!

fartsniferupdates: queen fartsnifer herself was seen at the f1 austrian race today!! i think we ALL know who she was there for… 😉😉

view comments below!

user43: she flew to austria for a MAN ?? 🤨

user44: to be fairrrrr that man is MAX VERSTAPPEN so…

user45: they are so dating!! they literally left together and looked so happy

user46: i fucking knew it

user47: okay enemy’s to lovers…get it ig

user48: maybe y/n can let max win at COD now that they’re a…thing?

user49: y/n looks so good

user50: IKR!!! her hair is chefs kiss

liked by, landonorris, charles_leclerc, fartsnifer, and 763,825 others!

maxverstappen1: finally payed for her dinner in person 💪

view comments below!

user51: oh HE posted her?? yeah he’s in love

user52: he ruined his entire feed aesthetic to post a picture of her 🥹🥹🥹

fartsnifer: i don’t like that picture🧍delete please!

maxverstappen1: karma!

maxverstappen1: and you look cute 🙄

user53: OH!!!

user54: yeah they are definitely dating

landonorris: finally!! God you were getting to annoying with your “she’s so pretty.” “and she’s good at games.” “do you think if we started dating she’d let me win.”

maxverstappen1: delete this.

fartsnifer: too late!! i’ve seen it. no max just because we’re dating doesn’t mean i will let you win

maxverstappen1: 😕

user55: OMG SHE JUST CONFIRMED IT?? THEY ARE ACTUALLY DATING?? HOLY SHIT

user56: girl he literally flew her out to watch him race. ofc they were dating 😭😭

user33: I FUCKING KNEW IT!! FUCK YOU ALL WHO SAID I WAS DELUSIONAL!! WHAT NOW HUH??? YOU SEE THIS?? I WAS RIGHT!! AHAHAHAH

charles_leclerc: ❤️❤️

charles_leclerc: that was for y/n, not max.

maxverstappen1: geez thanks mate!

fartsnifer: love you charles ‼️‼️

user57: LMAOOO

user58: the way charles became a full on fartsnifer fan is so crazy

user59: he literally talks about her all the time too 😭😭 when he was asked what he’s been watching recently he answered “i’ve been watching a streamer named fartsnifer! she’s funny.” he’s so proud about it

georgerussell63: you are all traitors!! after what she did to us that fateful day? i can’t believe this!

fartsnifer: you literally invited me for drinks tomorrow?? 🧍

georgerussell63: SHHHH 🤫🤫

user60: max is dating someone who gos by the name fartsnifer….yeah i didn’t see this coming

. . .

notes: thank you for reading!! hope you enjoyed :))

[erwinsvow]

introducing... bitchy reader!

rafe never pays attention to sarah’s friends. new yet similar faces seem to make the rounds through tannyhill every week; the place was a revolving door. the occasional familiar girl would say hi to him, which would of course be ignored since he doesn’t care enough to say hi back.

so naturally, you become the exception to his little rule.

you and sarah are on opposite sides of the counter, flicking through magazines and taking sips from overpriced iced coffees, when he overhears a conversation that makes him stop and listen.

“-and he’s not like topper, like, at all. he’s really nice and actually talks to me instead of at me-”

“wow,” he hears you say, dragging out the syllables and sarcasm dripping from your voice. “such standards you have. no, really.”

“shut up. he’s totally sweet-” sarah says, but you interrupt her.

“he’s, like, totally a dirty pogue.” that catches his attention—not just the fact that there’s something going on between his sister and some pogue, but the way you say the sentence, how the words sound coming from your mouth. 

you nearly sound like rafe.

“that is so rude-”

“what? i’m just being honest. i’d be a bad friend if i didn’t tell you the truth.”

“what truth?” his sister questions.

“that you’re settling for some pogue boy because you’re bored of top. i get it. if i was dating him i’d be bored enough to fuck a pogue too.”

rafe cringes at the topic even though your word choice makes him laugh—topper is boring, though he doesn’t think he’s heard anyone else bring it up until now. he steps back into the doorway, watching the two of you. the crass words are coming from you, dressed in a sunny yellow dress and tapping pretty pink nails against the counter. 

“hey! i’m not bored-”

“you mean, you like hearing about his boat and golf every single day?”

“he has other hobbies! like-”

“like what?” you pause, watching sarah’s expression before giving her a pointed look—a look that says told you so. “who are you really trying to convince right now?” you flip through another magazine, finding something that must have caught your eye. you lift it to show sarah—some pinked striped pajamas and fuzzy slippers on the pages. “don’t i totally need this?”

“shut up.”

“that’s what someone says when they know the other person’s right,” you say with a mocking smile, setting down the magazine. he’s watching the whole thing—you’re funnier than he would have thought. “and if you change your mind just go to country club. top’s dime a dozen there.” the two of you start laughing. 

“i’m not gonna change my mind-”

“that’s what you said when you started dating topper,” you say it deadpan, and rafe holds back a laugh.

“-because he’s really nice. he’s a good guy.”

“ugh, sarah. making out with a dirty pogue at a bonfire is one thing. you’re talking like you’re in love. get a grip.”

“what? what’s so wrong with that?” sarah asks, taking a sip of her drink.

“because you can’t be in love with someone you have to hide your valuables around.” that’s when he decides to walk in—sarah sputtering on her drink while you roll your eyes.

“and what’re you girls talkin’ about?” rafe asks, and two sets of eyes turn to look at him. you look at him a little confused—in all the years you’ve known sarah and times you’ve been at tannyhill, rafe’s never once spoken to you.

“i don’t think it’s any of your business-” his sister says, and then he rolls his eyes. you interrupt right away.

“sarah, it’s okay.” you turn to rafe, looking right at him and leaning in a little like you’re gonna tell in something. “it’s really not any of your business.”

blank face, trying to be annoyed but not actually feeling annoyed, he stares back at you. his sister laughs stupidly, heading into the living room. she leaves you alone with rafe in the kitchen, but as you grab your drink and try to follow sarah, rafe says something.

“y’know i heard that shit you were sayin’. you’re funny, kid.” you turn back to look at rafe.

“thanks. i wasn’t joking.”

“yeah. good. at least one of my sister’s friends has ‘er head screwed straight.” you laugh, but the look on your face says you didn’t think it was funny.

“are you trying to compliment me? by insulting all my other friends?” he wasn’t expected that retort.

“no. no, i-”

“maybe if your friend wasn’t such a shit boyfriend, sarah wouldn’t be talking to some pogue. but hey, what do i know?”

“hey, kid, i-”

“don’t call me that.” you roll your eyes, walking to the living room without even glancing back at rafe. he calls out after you again.

“so have you?” you pause, turning again.

“have i what?” “made out with some pogue at the bonfire.” he shrugs. “that’s what you said to sarah, isn’t it?”

“again, how is that any of your business?” you ask, cocking your head at him.

“that’s not an answer.”

“i don’t owe you an answer. but for the record, no, i haven’t. i actually have standards.” he doesn’t miss the remark and what it says about his sister.

“good,” rafe says, looking at you. his eyes rake over your body before he can stop it—your short hem, the jewelry dangling on your wrists and neck, the heels even though you hadn’t gone anywhere.

“shut up. weirdo.” you walk to the living room where sarah’s waiting for you.

rafe’s gonna have a hard time staying away from you.

[illbegottenfaith]

2001 - theo nott x reader

Honey, what you runnin' from? When you comin' back to bed? Toss and turnin' all night long with me instead Honey, what you runnin' from? Where the hell you headed to? Do you like the way I run after you?

or, theo doesn’t understand what’s holding you back from taking things further

a/n - I think I would classify this soft core smut at best? But adding an 18+ tag jic

tropes/warnings - 18+ MDNI, fluff

word count - 1.6k

“Fucking hell. Hide me.”

You shrunk yourself down the best that you could behind your best friend, Ivy, laser-focused on the boy at the other end of the hallway. Ivy rolled her eyes, making no effort to help.

“I can’t believe you still won’t tell me what happened that night. It can’t have been that bad.”

“It was,” you muttered, stupidly trying to get Ivy to cooperate. It was no easy task, especially on days like today when she was feeling particularly stubborn, which was a problem since the boy looked fully intent on approaching them.

“Will you relax? You look like an idiot. Like an even bigger idiot than usual. He probably doesn’t even remember whatever-“

“Ivy. Happy birthday. Sorry I couldn’t make it to the party.”

Damn. You thought you had more time. Curse him and his unfairly long legs. Ivy did the grown-up thing, which was literally anything other than pretending she didn’t see him. “It’s alright, Theo. You can make it up to me next year.”

“How was it?”

“It was nice, actually. We got a discount on -“

Ivy was cut off by a gentle tug, revealing a hunched-over you. You straightened hastily, clearing your throat, refusing to meet his gaze.

“L/N.”

“Nott.”

“Planning on dropping by tonight?”

You put on a straight face, looking politely confused. “Hm?”

“The party. Tonight.”

“Oh. Where?”

Theo narrowed his eyes, and your face burned under the intensity of his gaze. It took everything you had to keep your features schooled while he shamelessly searched your face for what felt like far too long.

“The Slytherin common room,” he replied, finally tearing his eyes away from you. You relaxed, blinking hard and a little breathless, your palms a little clammy. “Can’t miss it. Just follow the stench of firewhiskey and bad ideas.”

Internally, you nearly passed out. Externally, you shrugged noncommittally. “Sure. Maybe.” Definitely not. You weren’t going to spend a second longer in Theo’s presence if you could help it. 

You and Ivy get to the party and, as expected, you’re abandoned the second she finds Ivan through the crowd. You wander around before you decide to join a group of Slytherins on the couches, next to Theo. You get handed a drink. It burns your throat and makes your eyes water. The loud bass starts to sound more tolerable. Another drink. Theo’s frowning at you. You wonder if anyone’s told him how good concern looks on his face. Everything is now ten times funnier. You press up against Theo, laughing yourself silly, leaning into his touch as he drapes an arm around you. Another drink. You’re more than lightly flushed. Theo places a hand on your thigh. You don’t move it away. 

Eventually, you end up pressed against the door of Theo’s room, your mouths a heady mess of heat, teeth and tongues, your bodies moulding to each other’s. Your eyes flutter shut, blissfully able to let go with your senses dulled by alcohol. You can’t tell if it’s the music or your pulse vibrating through your body, but you’re aching for his touch. He presses a knee against your core and you groan into his mouth, melting into a boneless mush in his arms.

“Theodore,” you sighed desperately, breath catching in your throat. It was enough to slow his ministrations on your neck which had been filling your head with the most delicious kind of static. You never used his first name despite your best friends being glued by the lips since sixth year, mostly because you never went beyond exchanging civil pleasantries. Occasionally, you’d have a chat that wasn’t entirely unpleasant, or you’d let your thoughts wander to his disarming blue eyes or wicked smile, but that was it. It never did, and it never could, go any further than that. You were too different. It would never work. You’d only be setting yourself up for heartbreak. Nothing good could come of entangling with the illustrious Theodore Nott, figuratively or otherwise.

And to use his first name was to acknowledge the existence of this softer, kinder Theo - a version worlds away from that Nott boy with the aloof face and the piercing eyes. He hummed against your neck, thumbs restlessly skimming the waistband of your skirt.

“We can’t - we shouldn’t,” you continued, once you were able to make sense of your fuzzy thoughts. You pushed him back gently, cool air rushing in to douse the heat of the moment. “Our friends have a whole thing. We’d only get in the way. It’s just a bad idea.”

His hands stilled on your hips. “I don’t understand. What about our thing?”

He looked so dazed and so adorably dishevelled that you almost felt sorry for him. It was late, Theo’s words sounded dangerously close to slurring, and if you were being honest, you should have left the party hours ago. You stroked his cheek absentmindedly before gingerly slipping out of his hold, recovering your shirt. You slipped it on, fumbling at rhe buttons with trembling fingers, and turned back to see Theo still watching you, uncomprehending, his swollen lips parted in confusion.

“Get some sleep, Nott. You’ll get what I mean in the morning.”

“Bye, Theo,” Ivy was saying now. “Give Ivan a kiss for me.”

“Should I feel him up while I’m at it?”

“It only seems right to give him the full experience.”

Ivy grinned as he walked off while you all but dragged her down the hall towards your next class.

“Aw, come on, Y/N, he’s not that bad.” She glanced at you, eyes twinkling with mirth. “You know, I always thought he has a thing for y-“

“Aren’t you late for Herbology?”

Ivy cursed as she fumbled at her wristwatch, hurrying down the corridor. In about a minute, she’d realise that she didn’t have Herbology today, but you decided to let her find that out herself.

Hours later, you were holed up in the library, desperately trying to plug your ears with all the ruckus going on floors below. Trying to focus was a losing battle.

“I thought I’d find you here.”

Your head snapped up too see Theo leaning against one of the bookshelves. Busted. To be fair, she was nowhere near the world’s best liar, so it was doubtful whether he had even believed her in the first place.

“Nott,” you greeted, in a pleasant enough voice. “Is that the time? I hadn’t realised the party had already started.”

The music continued blasting, more than audible to the two of them. Theo arched an eyebrow, slowly walking over, and you had the decency to look embarrassed over your bald-faced lie.

“I was planning to drop by later.”

“Well, you should.”

“Maybe I will:”

“It’s almost as fun as that last party ages ago.”

You stiffened at the memory. “Ah. Yes.”

Theo leaned over you, broad-shouldered and hypnotising. He dragged his gaze across you inch by agonising inch, undressing you with his eyes. You were starting to feel uncomfortably warm in your uniform. He dropped his voice.

“First and last time I see you in my bed, hmm?”

You choked, failing to suppress the shiver prickling over your skin. “That’s - stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“Talking like…that.” You felt your face heat up all over again, cursing yourself for your inability to even pretend to keep your cool in front of him. “Looking at me like that.”

His gaze flickered to your chest, so brief you’d have missed it if you blinked. “Like what?” 

You let out a frustrated, overwhelmed sigh, your brain becoming oddly fixated on the memory of his hands on your hips, travelling up your ribcage, at the nape of your neck, grip tightening on your waist -

“Go on. Use your words.”

His breath tickled the shell of your ear, the closest he’d been to you since that night. 

“Like…like you actually want me. Like I’m something special.”

“You are something special.”

You groaned and looked away. “I’m seeing someone,” you tried, half-heartedly. Theo snorted.

“What, that Davies guy? Yeah, like that’s going to last.”

You couldn’t even bring yourself to feel all that indignant on Davies’ behalf. Not that you were going to let Theo know that. “I’ll have you know that Mac is a perfect gentleman.”

“My point is-“ Theo started, irritatedly. You took a perverse sort of pleasure in ruffling his feathers. “- why the fuck are we talking about Davies when you could be in my bed, doing far more interesting things with that mouth?”

“Or maybe it’s something else entirely. Perhaps you like having me run after you. Is that where you get off, hmm? The thrill of the chase? Being a tease?”

“I am not a -“ you began hotly, before you caught the mischievous twinkle in his eye. You rolled your eyes. “You’re too cocky for your own good,” you muttered. 

“I thought you like me cocky,” he teased. His expression softened the next second and you watched him trace lazy circles on your wrist.

“Besides…I’ve never tried this hard to get into someone’s pants.”

You gave a shaky laugh. Theo bent down once more, this time to press a kiss to your lips, then another, and another, until you were lying on your back on the table, looking sinfully ravished, blouse long forgotten.

One night couldn’t hurt, could it?

[fluentmoviequoter]

We've Got a Problem

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!fiancée!reader

Summary: When you get arrested on Tim's day off, you have to call someone to get you out of jail. Tim doesn't answer when you call, but when he finds out what happened, he makes it a bigger problem.

Warnings: grumpy!Tim, fluff, mentions of homicide and drug trafficking; reader doesn't commit any crimes, so misunderstanding?

Word Count: 1.1k+ words

Picture from Pinterest

You can't decide what's funnier: that you are in police custody, that the arresting officers refused to believe that you are Tim Bradford's significant other, or that Tim isn't answering his phone.

When you switch tactics to call Wesley Evers instead of Tim, you decide that the last option is the funniest part of this ordeal.

"Hey," Wesley answers.

"This isn't a personal call," you begin with a chuckle. "Would you believe me if I said I'm currently being detained at LAPD Mid-Wilshire division on suspicion of a triple homicide and drug possession?"

"I really hope for Tim's sake you're joking."

"I'm not. I need a lawyer, Wesley. But I also need to ask you to find Tim to get me out. No one here will believe that he's my fiancé and he's not answering my calls."

"Can't imagine why they're so sure he's single. I'll get him down there and ask for the evidence. We'll get this thrown out, don't worry."

"I'll stop worrying when I'm out of here. Thank you, Wesley."

“Don’t hang up, I’m patching Tim in.”

“What do you want, Wesley?” Tim asks when the line connects.

“I want to know why you answer for him but not for me,” you interject.

Tim says your name before asking, “Where are you?”

“Jail,” you and Wesley answer together.

“What? Which station?”

“That’s your question?” Wesley replies. "Not what she did?"

“Your station,” you answer. “And I’d like to go home.”

“I’m on my way. Wesley, talk to me.”

“They’ve got her on suspicion of homicide and drug trafficking. Angela sent me part of the case file and it seems like you fit the physical description of the suspect, but that’s it. I have no doubt we can get this thrown out by the end of the day.”

“Tim, I’m sorry,” you offer. “I know it’s your day off.”

“At least it’s a good story,” he grumbles.

“Tim, I may have told a few cops that I’m your fiancée. They didn’t believe me, but I- I’m sorry for telling them.”

“Fantastic. I’m hanging up, I’ll be inside in a minute.”

“How mad is he really?” Wesley asks.

“I don’t think I want to know. Maybe I should’ve just asked you to come.”

“Good luck.”

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim yells your name when he walks into the holding area. He looks at you as you stand, walking to the cell door as another officer unlocks it.

“I’m really sorry,” you whisper as you step out.

“Later,” Tim answers, gesturing for you to follow him.

You walk behind Tim and the officer, waiting by Tim’s side as he completes paperwork.

“And what’s your relationship?” the officer behind the desk asks.

“I’m her fiancé,” Tim answers.

The officer raises his eyebrows but nods as he slides a paper to Tim. Tim carries the paper in one hand, raising his other arm to direct you into a nearby office.

“Sergeant Grey, a word?” Tim asks.

“Sure. Who’s your friend?”

You say your name, shaking Sergeant Grey’s hand.

“My fiancée. Celina and Nolan just booked her on suspicion for Lopez’s case.”

Sergeant Grey presses his lips together but fails to hide his smile as he begins laughing, leaning backward while he wipes an amused tear from his eye.

“Let me guess, you told them that you’re with Bradford and they didn’t believe you.”

“Uh, exactly,” you answer, surprised at how quickly he determined what happened.

“I’ll talk to Nolan,” Grey promises.

“I can do it,” Tim responds.

“No, Bradford, I’ll handle it. It won’t happen again.”

“It better not, or I’ll intervene.”

“I’m sorry,” Grey tells you. “The charges won’t be filed, so you’re not going to be impacted other than the inconvenience this afternoon. I apologize on behalf of the entire department.”

“It’s not a problem,” you answer softly.

“It is a problem,” Tim says before exiting the office. “Nolan!”

“Tim,” you call, rushing out after him. “What’re you doing? They didn’t even believe me about you.”

“Not the biggest problem. Nolan!”

“Uh, yes?” Nolan asks, glancing over Tim’s shoulder at you.

“You arrested my fiancée on a completely baseless allegation. Because she looks a bit like a suspect in a huge case. That is not good police work, that’s being lazy and making connections where there are none.”

“I-“

“Unless you’re about to apologize, stop talking. Care to explain why you heard my name and didn’t do anything?”

“She claimed to be your fiancée. What was I supposed to do, just believe who I thought was a suspect in numerous felony cases?”

“Doesn’t sound like an apology.”

“What are you so mad about? I did my job.”

“You did what you think your job is. As a TO, it is on you to make sure Celina is prepared to do her job without you. Bringing people in because they fit what is possibly the most generic physical description ever is not being a good officer.”

“This doesn’t sound like letting me handle it,” Grey says, stepping out of his office.

Tim clenches his jaw before pointing at Nolan. “For the record, she is my fiancée and I will not forget this.”

“You have a fiancée?” Nyla asks as she stops in the middle of the bullpen. “Wait, are you the one who got brought in for Angela’s felonies? The one who called Wesley?”

“Yeah,” you answer, supplying your name as you introduce yourself.

“Oh, this story needs to be told.”

“Don’t,” Tim warns.

Nyla pulls her phone from her pocket, smiling as she types. “Too late.”

“So much for my day off,” Tim grumbles.

“I got arrested today, and you had a long day?” you ask.

“We’re leaving.”

Tim leads you to his truck, sighing as he sits back in the driver’s seat.

“Tim-“

“Don’t apologize again. I’m not mad at you, for anything. Just… this is so stupid,” Tim concludes, smiling as he laughs.

“You’re telling me. Although Nolan and Juarez got a good laugh out of the idea of you having a fiancée.”

“I don’t think that’s funny,” Tim responds. “I think I just got very lucky.”

You smile, leaning across the console to kiss Tim.

“Excuse me, you’re parked in a tow-away zone. Tim?” an officer asks through the open window. She gasps before asking, “Is this your fiancèe?”

“Bye, Chen.”

Tim pulls out before she can say anything else, and you laugh at his dramatic sigh.

“Can you stay out of trouble for the rest of my day off?” he asks.

“I may need some incentive.”

“Then spend it with me. Not calling Wesley Evers from a jail cell.”

“Deal.”

You take Tim’s hand and smile. He brushes his thumb over your knuckles, keeping you close as he drives to his house.

"Wait, we should take a picture," Tim says after parking in his driveway.

"For what?"

"To commemorate your first arrest."

You roll your eyes but smile anyway. Tim takes the picture, and when he looks down to see how it turned out, you cup his face in your hands and kiss him. While he's thoroughly distracted, you try to grab his phone, but he moves it before pulling you closer. Maybe getting arrested and letting Tim's coworkers know he's engaged wasn't all bad.

[professional-yearner]

Can't Help Falling In Love With You 🤍

Pt. 1

Yandere! Cheater! Officer Clone trooper x Fem! Reader

Series TW!: cheating, mistresses, grief, murder, Evil-ish, being trapped, toxic relationships, forced relationship, obsessive love, obsession, general insanity, manipulation, disloyalty

A/N: I hope you guys like this first installment of my new-ish series! I do intend to finish it this time lol. I really hope you like it! :3

You sat in the dark, staring blankly at the messages. They were sweet, affectionate, and playful, with a deep sense of connection that made bile creep up your throat and your head light. You remembered when Steel used to message you like this, it seemed so distant now, but you could remember it almost vividly.

You hadn't realized you were crying until you had to sniff to keep mucus from dripping onto the data pad. It made sense why he had been so distant recently; staying out late on his leave instead of being with you, always on his data pad doing 'work', never really touching you anymore.

The name opposite his own messages seemed to be laughing at you, bold and victorious as it burned into your retinas;

Arah

Was that her name? It was pretty, like she must be. Was it just that, or was she funnier, smarter, more capable, more interesting? Maybe all of the above.

You cried out, pain racking through your entire body; you had thought he was your person. You thought he thought you were his person.

It had all come together when you met him, and now it had so rapidly fallen apart.

-

The morning following your discovery was bleak, but you had to keep it together, at least until he left again for the day.

It was a sisyphean task to hold back your tears without him noticing as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head before he went (something he hadn't done in a while), but you didn't think you could face him now, not until you got yourself together a bit.

You finally broke once he closed the door behind him, trying to take air between sobs as you did your best to move towards the bathroom.

Skincare didn't work, the tears and snot wouldn't stop long enough for any of your products to set.

Putting on a nice outfit didn't work either, you just found new ways to compare yourself to how pretty his new girl must be, making your crying all the more intense.

Finally, you found yourself in the kitchen, exhausted from a day that sped by you and stomach rumbling.

You had to climb the counter to get the ingredients that you needed, seeing as the it only reached your hip at the most.

Steel had insisted on you not "wasting your money" on a step-stool, going on about how he'd always be there to get things down for you. Remembering that made you grit your teeth, grief momentarily replaced with vitriol.

Karking liar.

Mixing and cleaning went by in a blur, you were so practiced by now it felt like a reflex. You looked down at what you were making.

It was both of your favorites; pancakes.

It was simple, basic even, but it had kind of been your thing. It seemed appropriate considering you had met in a diner.

You felt your eyes heat as you flipped the pancake.

You really thought he loved you.

You could remember the first time you had kissed, the first time you had felt so wanted and right with someone;

You giggled as he bumped your shoulder with his, the rough material of his uniform scuffing your bare arm lightly as he grinned down at you. The rain pattered on the two of you, your hair and his hat beginning to drip.

You paused your walking as you caught his eye, the look he was giving you catching you off guard; his brown-gold eyes shone more openly than you had ever seen them, soft affection following your every movement as his lips curved into a warm smile.

"What?" You smiled up at him, laughing lightly.

He stepped out in front of you, leaning down to push the hair away from your face and touching your nose with his,

"You're perfect, angel."

Your eyes widened as you took in the moment, a desire settling itself against your ribcage at his declaration. Stomach fluttering, you worked up every scrap of courage you had, finally leaning forward and closing the distance between the two of you, pressing your lips shyly to his.

He seemed to be in shock for a moment, making you pull back, only to give a small squeak of surprise as he shot out a hand to bring you back, capturing your lips gently, but passionately, against his once more.

You both stayed like that for a while, lips moving against each other in quiet tenderness before he pulled away slowly, rubbing your cheek with his calloused thumb,

He breathed softly, face only an inch from yours, "Sweet girl."

You bit back a silly grin, bringing your forehead to his and placing your hands at the sides of his face in a Keldabe kiss, one last show of your overwhelming adoration before pulling away.

"You want to come back to mine? I could make breakfast for dinner; your favorite."

He said nothing for a moment, looking at you as if you were the beginning and end of the galaxy, making you almost tear up before his face broke into a lopsided grin once more. He picked you up by your waist suddenly, causing you to squeal as he spun you around, laughing,

"Cyar’ika, you are the love of my life!"

You stared at the pan, watching the pastry grow black as you zoned out. The love of his life.

You sobbed, clutching the counter as the smell of burning pancake filled your nose.

Maker.

[winxwannabe]

I’m frothing at the mouth for as much info from the Winx encyclopedia thing as you’re willing to post thank you for your service

Good news! There are a series of pages regarding the girl’s childhoods that are ripe with✨family dynamics✨ and L O R E. I forgot to take photos of the pages before leaving for a weekend trip, but I can tell you what I’ve learned and post the images on Monday!

Before the good stuff let’s get the boring out of the way: there’s no new info on Bloom’s childhood since it was covered so extensively in Season 1. Expected, but I will tell you my favorite part: Bloom says no matter what Mike and Vanessa are her parents. You love to see it.

Flora has a distant relationship with her dad compared to her mom and Miele. He’s a landscape architect for ‘The Senatorial Chamber of Public Greens,’ and wasn’t around much. She was also one of those kids who could make flower jewelry. So jealous.

Stella was raised mostly by the Solarian royal staff instead of Radius or Luna. Big day for the Radius Haters. She always had a thing for brunette boys and either A) got the magic equivalent of Lasik or B) wears contacts. I’m going with B in my own head cannons.

Layla has childhood trauma from being forced to stay inside. Yay? We knew about that but you know what I found that was new: ANNE LORE! Aisha knows where Anne moved - a planet called Eros. There’s no mention of it anywhere else in Winx, so re-write people can go ape with it. (This is apparently on the wiki now but it’s not mentioned in the series so I never looked whoops)

Musa’s pages are just…a right mess of contradictions. Ho-Boe wanted Musa to become a singer like Matlin was, a TOTAL 180 from the series where he’s worried about Musa following in her mother’s footsteps. He’s worried about her going to Alfea to be a fairy? I don’t know I’m missing a key word in the translation or something, but I will report back!

Also, there’s a footnote about her mom’s hologram being stored in a camellia flower, which is important in Chinese and Japanese culture. Not surprising, but makes the whitewashing Fate did funnier.

And lastly, Tecna heavily implies on Zenith it’s common to have memories stored in virtual reality? A true gold mine of potential story content (especially when you did a season about time travel). They give Tecna anxiety to look though - which to be fair is a mood. But it does mention specifically Tecna’s always been a smart kid, even on Zenith, and that she had friends. I don’t know why that made me happy but it did (probably because ‘nerd’ characters are usually portrayed as outcasts, so I appreciate Tecna not going through that).

[deusvervewrites]

Vigilante!Inko AU, mayhap?

Inko and Rei used to be a Vigilante Duo back in the day, but Rei was forced to retire by her parents' machinations. As a Vigilante, Inko figured out how to use her Quirk as a sort of slingshot as well, which was quite useful. Emerald and Sapphire are still spoken of highly in the underground circuits.

So it turns out that spending years as a Vigilante means that Rei has experience with controlling a Quirk that can overwhelm her if overused, fancy that. This dramatically changes her relationship with Touya, since instead of trying to demotivate him from burning himself, she just takes him aside and trains him herself.

This begins a cavalcade that Rei did not expect. Namely, that Touya decides the best way to get Endeavor's respect is to emulate her, and he decides to be Vigilante. Fuyumi follows shortly after to keep her dumbass brother alive, which pulls in Natsuo and Shoto eventually. Endeavor is clueless because that's funnier to me.

Speaking of Vigilantes, guess what Izuku's hobbies include! After all, being a Hero is just a license to use your Quirk, and that's not a problem Izuku is going to have, right? Right? So Inko's been training Izuku and he's been learning to make his own gear.

Izuku enrolls in the Support Course but mostly keeps to himself because of his experiences in Aldera and because of all the crimes he's kind-of-sort-of committing or at least an accomplice to. However, his work during the Sports Festival excites two of his classmates, leading to a team of Support Gremlins. And yes, Hatsume and Toga will be joining the Vigilante team at some point. Oops, All Vigilantes.

[beanghostprincess]

Transfem auntie buggy ideas again bc AAAA BRANROT I LOVE WOMEN-

Ya know,,,,, how Oda said,,,,,, Buggy COULD be really fucking powerful if there was effort put in? What if in transfem Buggy world, the effort was due to dysphoria-fueled depression and anxiety. Coming out ((and having such blatant and unrepentant support, from her lovers AND the Guild in its entirety)) leads to her actually... feel okay-ish. It's not a sudden in-all-fix-it ((she needs a PLETHORA of therapies)), but it starts her on a good path. Thay first step was difficult, but it was made... so much easier. Which leads to the second step. The third. The fourth.

And now that Buggy isn't having seventy four panic attacks every three minutes, she can devote some Brain Space to other things - her weapon making has become a sort of fidget toy type of situation, and she's.. actually really gotten a knack for this, over the years. She'd never call herself prodigal ((lowkey even if she is, with chemistry, physics and spatial awareness, she's so deep in the I'm A Liar hole that she doesn't clock that just.... Getting It isn't normal)).

Croc and Hawk are very supportive, even if they bully her (consensually).

And eventually, they even deign to try teaching her Haki - just to realize she's... been using it constantly almost her whole life. Her Observation is innate, acute, and one of the reasons she's so charismatic and able to reign in a crowd. It's both a talent for manipulation and also a form of reactive observation haki - by shifting her own energy among her followers, prospective or otherwise, she can encourage a specific reaction. It's a mix of Skill, Natural Talent and smoke and mirrors.

Learning that makes her wonder - if Haki can be so dynamic and THEN SOME, what other places has she not considered such an approach? Her weapons? Training? Her... her devil fruit...?

It's a paramecia. It affects her body, and she's gotten some rather decent control of it. Do paramecias awaken like zoans? Do logias? New Fixation Hours. She goes a little feral with the possibilities.

Suddenly, it seems like all of these little walls she never noticed before have fallen away, leaving a vast horizon of possibility.

Shanks will take a bit to arrive at Karai Bari, and he's expecting a specific version of his former best friend (or former love or former sibling, depending on Preferred Shuggy Flavor). He is anticipating the Buggy he saw a few years ago, but this time Woman Mode.

Crocodile and Mihawk's protective hovering is not exactly smth he anticipated, but he's willing to roll with that! His lovely Bug is just so pretty, he HAS to tell her, see her for himself, it's not even a want, it's not a desire, he needs it the way hee needs sea salt in his hair and a hilt in his hand and air in his lungs.

Buggy, meanwhile has skipped right tf over many emotions, instead Fueled By Hyperfixation, and while part of her is absolutely REELING at Shanks showing up unannounced on HER island, another part is cackling in mad scientist and saying "convince him to guinea pig, 'for old time's sake'." Shanks is WEAK to Buggy Begging Eyes, and Croc and Hawk ((while also weak but not exactly as weak as Shanks, they can pretend)) are watching and honestly laughing internally bc....

Well. Buggy's on a ROLL. And Shanks is her newest toy.

Poor Redhair has NO IDEA what he's in for...

SHE'S A QUEEN SHE'S A PRINCESS SHE'S LITERALLY LIVING IN MY HEAD RENT FREE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! This is actually canon to me. Okay. Okay? She was just insecure and dealing with dysphoria and now she's the queen of the world. She owns it. Shanks is such a simp he's gonna let her do anything lmfao. And Mihawk and Crocodile absolutely love her and it's even funnier to bully her this way. And she's,,, She's so powerful. Queen. Absolutely amazing. Sexy but also really cute. Prettiest clown you've ever seen. HAVE YOU THOUGHT ABOUT HER CLOTHES??? Because I have so many outfits in mind I am going INSANE. And I can't stop thinking about Luffy and her getting along and Luffy being extremely happy (not to mention Sanji, Don't- Don't let Sanji see her because maybe he dies. Me too).

[immaturityofthomasastruc]

IOTA Reviews: Migration

You know, for a while, I thought Luka was one of the smartest characters in the show, and the fact that he's hightailing it out of Paris in this episode only continues to prove my point.

Let's get into the thirteenth episode of Miraculous Ladybug's fifth season: Migration

We start off with Marinette running over to the Liberty (with her friends laughing behind her back like the supportive people they are) and tries to talk with Luka about her relationship with Adrien once they're in private. Luka is pretty supportive, and it's a nice scene. Marinette then bumps into Adrien, who also wants to talk with Luka, and while the two try to get unstuck, we get a nice visual of Luka seeing the two as Ladybug and Cat Noir, which is there to remind the audience that he's known who both of them are ever since “Wishmaker”.

Adrien then talks to Luka about how he's worried something is keeping Marinette from being honest about her feelings. Luka gives him some advice on how just because he doesn't know everything about Marinette, it doesn't make her feelings for him less valid, and vice versa.

After Adrien leaves, we get an appearance from everyone's favorite deadbeat dad, Jagged Stone. He asks Luka how he can be a better father like he didn't miss years of child support, but all Luka really says is that he needs to spend time with his damn family. Of course, what I like about this scene is that it avoids the usual narrative pitfall of trying to say that Jagged and Anarka, Luka's mom, should get back together, and instead shows Jagged developing feelings for his agent, Penny.

Speaking of, after Jagged leaves, Penny comes in to come to Luka for advice. Okay, is Luka just the Dr. Phil of this show's universe? Penny talks to Luka about her sudden feelings for Jagged Stone.

Penny: No, I don't know why I'm in love with your father. He's disorganized, childish, selfish, and musically speaking, he's no David Bowie. Truth be told, your dad's a walking disaster. So why do I love him?

Luka: Does he make you happy, Penny?

Penny: Yeah. I just can't figure out why!

It's almost like this show will randomly pair people up at the drop of a hat. But hey, at least Luka hasn't asked if Kagami is single yet.

Before Penny leaves, Bob Roth, Jagged's producer, demands to know where he is, as he needs to record a new album. Bob learns that Jagged had children with Anarka (ignoring the potential scandal it could create), so Anarka promptly throws him out of the boat in a scene that I'm pretty sure is meant to be a reference to that one running gag from The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air.

Either way, Jazz's scream was funnier.

Kitty Section then practices their latest song about how you don't have to be rich, because even the songs in this show aren't exactly subtle with their messages. Bob somehow gets back on the Liberty completely dry, and offers the band a contract.

Bob: How would you like to sign a contract with me?

Luka: Actually, Bob, you already offered to sign us... Marinette: And you never followed up. Did you forget?

Bob: Huh? Uh... of course! I remember! I was just waiting for the right reason—uh, I mean, the right time! I was waiting for the right time to have you guys sign the contract!

My God, even the characters in this show want to forget it used to have good episodes.

Anarka throws Bob off again, where she and Luka talk about how everyone deserves a second chance and that change is possible.

Yeah, funny how that message almost never came up with Chloe, Lila, and Felix last season, isn't it? And given that they're going to use Bob as an example of this lesson, I don't think it's going to be a positive one. So right after Luka generously decided to give Bob a second chance, Bob offers them a new contract to sign... and as soon as he does, he screws them all over thanks to a lot of fine print they didn't stop to read.

Ivan: He can fire us whenever he wants?

Bob: Yep, and I just did, by the way.

Rose: The name Kitty Section belongs to him?!

Bob: Yep. It’s ugly, but it’s mine. Marinette: He owns everything you’ve made and will make over the next thousand years!? Bob: Gotta cover all bases.

Zoe: Marinette's costumes, the music video Nino shot, the website Mylene runs...

Bob: All mine!

Adrien: And you can’t even start another band together?

Bob: Course not, that’d be unfair competition! EVERYTHING belongs to me! Everything you are, everything you say, everything that’s in your hearts belongs to me!

See, kids? This is why you should never trust bad people. It doesn't matter if they say they want to improve. They just want to trick you and ruin your life, so if you're ever wronged by anyone, that person is never able to redeem themselves, especially if they're rich. As we all know, rich people are far worse than insane supervillains who want to rewrite reality. Just ask the biggest monster in the show, Chloe Bourgeois.

So yeah, Luka's optimism being taken advantage of is enough to attract the attention of Monarch, who attempts to akumatize him into Silencer again. Monarch realizes that Luka knows Ladybug and Cat Noir's identities (why he didn't think to look into it, given Viperion's powers, is left unanswered), and angrily smashes his guitar to free himself of Monarch's influence.

So not only did he stop himself from getting akumatized, he's also one step closer to becoming a true rock star.

Somehow, Bob thinks only keeping Luka on board would mean he wouldn't hate him, but Luka isn't buying it. Bob is shocked that Luka wouldn't want to work for an asshole like him as Luka tears the contract in half, but Bob has backups. Monarch decides to settle on Bob instead, akumatizing him into Gold Record.

Gold Record's design is... okay. It's still better than Sole Destroyer, and it's definitely better than Moolak. The gold coloring looks nice, and the euro symbol on the record is a nice visual. His powers are pretty much just a combination of Pixelator, the Collector, and Truth's powers, transforming people into records who sing their true feelings while using the Horse Miraculous' Voyage to throw the records into space. Nothing too original there, but it's a good metaphor for sleazy music producers, and it works for this story.

Rose and Anarka are the first of Gold Record's victims, and in a hurry, Luka lets Adrien know he knows he's Cat Noir, giving him a place to hide. Just as Juleka is hit by Gold Record, Ladybug and Cat Noir arrive on the scene. While Cat Noir holds off Gold Record, Ladybug tries to come up with a plan.

Ladybug summons her Lucky Charm, getting a knitting needle. She realizes her plan will need to involve using Luka as bait. Luka is forced to reveal that he knows who Ladybug and Cat Noir are, and what will happen if Gold Record gets him, setting up a tough choice that will force Ladybug to rethink her plan... and then the next scene happens, where Luka lets himself get hit, where Ladybug manages send Gold Record's record flying with a makeshift bow and arrow created from the knitting needle and a nearby fiddle, which Cat Noir immediately Cataclysms.

Ladybug de-evilizes the Akuma, uses Miraculous Ladybug to fix the damage, and gives Bob Roth a Magical Charm that even he knows is useless at this point. Ladybug and Cat Noir decide to call it a day and let Anarka throw Bob Roth out again.

Luka reveals that he knows Ladybug and Cat Noir's identities (because once again, sharing that information with your friends is totally fine for some reason), and that he can't stay in Paris. After revealing that he had Fang eat all of Bob's contracts so Luka isn't bound by them anymore, Jagged offers to take Luka around the world to finally make up for years of absence while Luka makes Juleka the new leader of Kitty Section. And so the episode ends with the Couffaine family sharing a hug while Luka gives one last look to his friends Marinette and Adrien.

This episode was just average, all things considered. The plot and the lesson it was setting out to teach, while not terrible, felt a little tacked on. It was if the writers were trying to acknowledge the stuff that happened with Chloe and wanted to show an example of redemption arc done right in the case of Jagged. It falls flat because once again, more focus is given to showing how easy it is to be screwed over trusting someone than showing the benefits to trusting someone, especially since Bob is already an outlandish villain we already have a lot of reasons to hate.

I'm also mixed on the handling of Luka here. While I'm glad Marinette isn't being forced to learn a lesson here, I don't get why Luka had to be the one to be taken advantage of. He's already aware of how easy it is for Monarch to learn his secrets, so it feels weird that he lets himself and his friends get taken advantage of so easily. Outside of the scene with Ladybug's Lucky Charm, I don't get why he needed to tell the others the stuff he knew. I can sort of see why he'd tell Adrien, but why would he think telling his friends he knows who Ladybug and Cat Noir are wouldn't endanger them too?

Speaking of that, despite being established for almost an entire season, we really don't see enough of Marinette and Adrien reacting to Luka revealing that he knows who they are. Marinette only gets a few lines, and Adrien doesn't even get to say anything. While I am glad that Marinette and Adrien aren't dominating the plot for once, it feels weird that we don't get to see their reactions to something so shocking, especially with how often the identity rule has been enforced.

On the other hand, the writing is still handled a lot better than usual. I like how Monarch chooses to change his strategy to focus on Luka halfway through the episode, and the idea of the risk using Luka for Ladybug's plan brings is an interesting one, even if they don't really go anywhere with it. The running gag with Bob constantly getting thrown off the Liberty is a funny one, and it proves you can actually write slapstick that doesn't involve humiliating Marinette. Who knew?

As a whole, while I think this is the best episode of the season so far, this episode still has its fair share of problems.

THE BIGGEST IDIOT OF THE EPISODE IS... LUKA

Not counting the time Marinette got the award in my review of the Shanghai Special, we have the first character this season to get the Biggest Idiot Award twice. For someone who is usually smarter than the other characters, Luka made quite a few bad choices this episode. He decided to trust Bob Roth after he screwed him and his friends over in “Silencer”, he didn't think to read the contract he was offered, and after being endangered by what Monarch knows now, he decided to tell his friends and family that he knows who Ladybug and Cat Noir are, potentially putting them all in danger too. Yeah, the next few episodes will probably just ignore it, but there's always a chance Monarch could try another Optigami, even if he doesn't have the Peacock Miraculous anymore.

And with that, I'm officially done with the first half of Season 5. What do I think of it? Well, I think Immortan Joe said it best:

Yeah, this season was pretty boring, all things considered. To be perfectly honest, I struggled here more than I did last season because I wasn't sure what to say about half of the episodes I watched. There was almost nothing of substance these past thirteen episodes, and I could barely say anything other than “this episode is okay” or “this episode is bad”. Whenever I had ideas, they were usually extensions to things I've already talked about, like the Marinette angst, the historical and cultural inaccuracies, and the villains genuinely being incompetent. If you showed someone a few episodes of Season 1 and this season, outside of Monarch's new appearance, it'd be pretty hard for them to tell the difference.

But hey, maybe things will pick up in the second half of the season. Hell, maybe the next episode will be even better than this one, and... huh. Does anyone else hear an ominous whistling in the background?

[fangweaver2099]

A Minor Slip-Up - Chapter 1

Miguel O'Hara X Reader 18+

You've been working for Dr. Miguel O'Hara in Alchemax' R&D department for 2 years. For those two years, your crush on the gigantic, handsome man that just happens to be your superior has only gotten worse with time.

When you notice him alone at Alchemax' Christmas Gala, you take your chance. A one night stand.

You two agree it was just once, but it seems life has other plans.

This fic takes place in an alternate canon of the Spiderman 2099 comics. While the entire plot uses the lore of the 2099 comics, the aesthetic of Nueva York is based on Across the Spiderverse.

Miguel is based also on his ATSV character in personality and appearance & his tech. He's a bit more of an asshole and less traumatized tho.

He has not discovered portal technology and is technically not the ATSV Miguel we see in the movie – but a variant. While I use his backstory up to before Dana and him go to Valhalla is pretty similar - instead of being constant crazy stuff it cuts off there. The comic backstory ends and diverges with a much slower plot where Miguel has to grapple with being Spiderman and occasionally handling crazy stuff and trying to stop Alchemax. Also, he has ATSV Lyla bc she’s objectively the funnier version.

It was totally normal to have a crush as a grown woman, right ?

That’s what you had tried to convince yourself of anyway. Dr. Miguel O’Hara was technically your boss. You were a senior in your position, but he was the lead scientist – you submitted reports and updates to him and followed his instruction and advice. Any project had his name first, regardless of how much work he actually did.

Dr. O’Hara was attractive. There was no way the towering, chiseled man built like a Greek god didn’t know he was drop dead gorgeous . Tall, smart – handsome. The only downside was his personality had gone from a slightly egotistical lead who treated everyone like they were stupid, to barely talking to anyone, and brooding in his office. He seemed almost… depressed .

You had chalked it up to the explosion that happened in Miguel’s personal lab almost 5 months ago. Apparently, a late-night experiment had gone wrong. The accident had killed Mr. Delgato and Miguel was apparently there when he died. You couldn’t imagine how traumatic it was. So, you were quick to give your boss some serious slack.

You didn’t know Miguel that well anyway; he was your boss – personal life was not exactly something folks discussed over petri dishes. It’s not like he spent any time in the break room on the main R&D floor. He usually didn’t spend time in any break room, really.

Right now, the massive Miguel O’Hara was at the head of the table his team usually had lunch at. He looked like he was nursing a hangover and holding a coffee cup that was too little for his gigantic, tanned hands. His shirt was too tight, and it put emphasis on his massive shoulders and broad chest.

You were doing everything you could not to stare.

 You knew the dress code well, no wearing your hair down in the lab, so your neck was still chilly and ears pink. You felt like you were freezing even in your thick turtleneck sweater, dark slacks and company-issued lab coat. The massive glass windows of the break room did little to stave off the December cold in Nueva York. The entire room was bustling with a few dozen scientists and other employees, but your team always hung out together. It was nice that you all actually liked one another.

You made your coffee sweet, more cream than coffee, eyes on the approaching Dr. Amara Monroe. The bubbly blonde with bright green eyes had to crane her head back to look at you – but it didn’t stop the both of you from becoming good friends over the past two years.

Dr. Monroe had her hands on a plastic box – likely some sort of food container that had long been cleaned. She sat it down before her seat, one hand on the rim.

“Okay. Write your name on the slip, and then put it in the jar.” Dr. Monroe’s other hand motioned to the scattering of cut-up printer paper on the table.

Apparently, it was an old tradition from the early 2000’s – Secret Santa. Dr. Monroe explained it as a bonding experiment, her family had been doing it as long as she remembered. It seemed that the woman was intent on continuing it in her workplace. You couldn’t help but grin, the idea exciting you, reaching over to grab a piece of paper. It meant you didn’t buy gifts for everyone, and even with your excessive budget, it was a relief on your wallet. 

“So, what if you get someone you don’t know?” Dr. Kline asked, one red brow raising. The ginger woman took a piece of paper anyway as Dr. Monroe passed her a pencil.

“That’s the fun part, you get to bother them and figure out what they like – but you can’t reveal you’re the one buying them their gift. Ask around! Plus, we’re all like…” She moved her hand in a waving motion. “Nerds.”

At that, a few of their coworkers snickered. You noticed even Miguel smiled a touch, rare. You forced yourself to peel your eyes away with a long sip of your coffee and reached over, picking up a piece of paper.

“It sounds fun, any other rules?” you asked as Dr. Kline passed the pencil over to Dr. Schneider. The tall blonde male scribbled his name in his nigh unreadable writing. You plucked the pen from his hand and wrote your own name down in the neatest handwriting you could muster, folding it with a flourish and using your finger to press down the seal.

“Hmmm… No gag gifts. My family usually does a price limit too - how does 30 sound?,” Dr. Monroe mused, tapping a finger to her freckled face.

You could hear a murmur in agreement from everyone as you returned to sipping on your coffee, letting the blonde scientist pick up your paper and toss it in the jug.

Miguel didn’t make a move, sitting back and watching, like he usually did during the company mandated lunch break, as everyone wrote their names. You quickly concluded that Miguel had no plans on participating, there was a little piece of you that was disappointed. He deserved to feel included, big grouch he may be.

It seemed Dr. Monroe noticed, her green eyes narrowed as she motioned the jug over the table, sticking it in Miguel’s face. He leaned back, looking at the small woman over his dark sunglasses.

“I’m not interested.” His smooth voice replied, raising one hand, telling her to back off.

“You’re our boss, you gotta.” Dr. Monroe retorted, too sweet for her own good. The woman was no pushover. A few voices spoke up in agreement. Miguel visibly simmered, slouching more in his chair as his massive hand pushed the box away. Amara frowned but Miguel placed down his own coffee, picking up the pen and writing his name, the script hurried and scribbled.

“Thank yooou-“ She took the paper from Dr. O’Hara before he could stop her, tossing it into the box. She plugged the hole with one of her hands before shaking it vigorously. Watching the tiny blonde woman bouncing the box around like it owed her money made you break out into a smile, hiding your snicker behind the mug you clutched in your cold hands.

Despite the seriousness of your job and Alchemax as a whole (along with your scrooge of a boss), you adored your direct team, they were all nice and reasonably friendly. Your team was one of the more accomplished teams in R&D – at least, as far as the reports your boss provided showed.

You couldn’t help but feel a bit proud. You took your job rather seriously – your last review had you noted as ‘careful and meticulous’.

You could hear a small, casual discussion going on as the team began discussing interests. Apparently, Dr. Yoshida loved something called Warhammer – Dr. Kline was a chronic chocolate addict and Dr. Monroe collected vintage stuffed animals from the 2030’s. It was a good bonding exercise, but you couldn’t exactly reflect on what you wanted.

You were not about to explain your weird love of horror, or your pile of shitty romance books downloaded on your holopad, a dirty secret you would take to the grave if it were up to you. You preferred being the awkward workaholic type anyways, instead of the dreamy weirdo you were in college. 

Your eyes drifted to Miguel.

Maybe you’d get lucky and get him – figure out something he’d like and put a smile on his stupid handsome face. You didn’t notice Miguel’s head turn to you quick enough, your gazes meeting, the hints of his hooded eyes under his sunglasses had you move to down your coffee like nothing had happened.

Miguel’s brow raised, but he said nothing as you turned to Dr. Yoshida.

“So – what about you? Worst gift you’ve ever gotten,” Dr. Yoshida asked, his dark eyes narrowing as he turned to face you.

“Uhhh…” You had to think about it. 

“Do my student loans count?,” you attempted to quip, forcing a smile. Dr. Yoshida laughed.

Dr. Monroe paused her container’s torture as she placed it on the middle of the table.

“Okay. Pick one. You get yourself – toss it back and take another. Got it?,” she said, moving to pluck one of the strips and unfolding it. Amara grinned deviously before shoving it into the pocket of her lab coat.

You waited until about halfway through, forced to lean across the table. You weren’t often thankful for your height – nearing six feet was often a pain - but now it had its advantage. You plucked a slip from the bowl without ease, and then sat back down with a small ‘oof’. 

Your fingers made quick work of unfolding the paper. 

‘Hiro’ was written in clear handwriting – Dr. Yoshida. Okay, that made it easy. You’d search up what the hell Warhammer was later, maybe a new tie or something. You glanced over at Dr. Yoshida; he always wore a dark blue tie with some sort of geometric pattern on it. Didn’t matter the color of his shirt. Sometimes it was fine, but he was wearing a deep mossy green recently. It looked awful.

You noticed Miguel’s hand dip into the jug, before flipping open the paper without…any reaction. He didn’t sit back down.

“I’m heading back.” He said without hesitation, mug still in hand as he strode away, leaving his team alone. You wondered who Miguel got – did he get you ? Your cheeks burned as you realized how pathetic you were being, and you had to resist the urge to slap your cheeks to wake yourself up.

The rest of lunch went just fine – small discussion as you and Dr. Monroe discussed your current round of tests. You always got assigned the boring work – and now it was antibiotic creation for a new disease affecting what was left of the cattle population across the US. Printer meat was already commonplace for most of the population, but it didn’t stop those wealthy enough to want something real. So, you got to figure out how to keep the animals alive. 

When you had just graduated college, bright eyed and stupid, you had thought you’d be doing important things like curing cancer. Alchemax had other plans.

Lab work after lunch was the same as ever- boring and filled mostly with reviewing code and notes. The amount of calibrating that every machine needed was practically mind numbing. Still, you were thankful for the busy work.

You headed back to your own office at the end of the day. The room was clean and organized as your lab bench. A few personal touches just like your apartment – a rose gold pen caddy that had your pens organized by color, a gray cushion on your chair to make it more comfortable. Nothing too casual, nothing too personal, all workplace appropriate.

You shrugged your lab coat off and packed your bag with your laptop. You gave into the chill and even let your hair out of its messy bun. Your fingers raked through your locks and fluffed it free. You tossed on your gray jacket and put your bag across your shoulders.

You tossed on your pink scarf and seemed prepared enough to brace the open-air parking garage. You tapped the frosted glass of your private office door as it slid open and closed behind you, lights shutting off with no one within. Your expensive non-slip shoes were silent as you made your way to the open hall of your floor. 

And there, looming before the elevator, was that massive figure. Miguel.

He wasn’t in his usual white lab coat, replaced with a dark, long overcoat. His hands were in his pockets, and he seemed to be leaning over slightly, putting emphasis on his broad shoulders and small waist. Awfully, you were reminded of one of the junior scientists calling him a Dorito. You tried not to crack a smile at the memory, walking forward as you attempted to calm your own expression.

You tried to keep your distance, moving to check if the button was pressed as the counters pinged down. Miguel seemed to notice your presence, glancing down at you from behind his sunglasses. You met his gaze for a moment from the corner of your eye and swore his eyes looked… red? It was probably just the light.

You glanced away and shifted in place, suddenly all too cognizant of the silence. 

You could keep quiet and say nothing, but you should make small talk, right? Be normal .You’d been in this type of situation before, this wasn’t alien. You could feel the warmth on your cheeks. As you opened your mouth to speak, the elevator dinged and saved you from further embarrassment.

You both entered together, taking your places on opposite sides of the small elevator. You were both tall and now you could see why Miguel leaned just a bit – if he was standing straight, he might have hit his head on the elevator door.

He was standing straight now, having almost a foot over your own height.

You were not used to people being larger than you, especially most men. At the most they were eye level. Before you’d met Miguel, you couldn’t understand why some of your college friends found men intimidating.

But Miguel was intimidating.

For the first time, you felt small . His hands were massive. He was massive . He made you feel all too cognizant of what it meant to feel like prey. Like he was strong enough to snap your neck if he was angry enough – not that you’d ever thought he would. He could probably pick you up – the primal desire to be manhandled had you shift in place, trying to ignore your own thoughts. He was your boss for God’s sake.

Miguel beat you to pressing the same button – floor ten’s light flicked on as the door closed. You did your best to take a step back and look anywhere but Miguel.

You were sure that Miguel was cognizant of the effect he had on women. You’d heard people jokingly call him ‘tall, dark and handsome’ more than once, though he always seemed too caught up in his work to notice the looks he got. 

It was a harmless crush, Miguel had never as much as reciprocated anything. He was so serious , especially in the last few months. You would have thought that after working under Dr. O’Hara for nearly two years, that you’d get over it, but it got worse whenever the two of you were forced into proximity.

You had nearly 40 floors before the parking garage. You cleared your throat – anything was better than pings as you descended.

“Have you ever done a secret Santa?,” you asked Miguel, head tilting to look up at the massive geneticist.

“No,” he replied, tone blank, not sparing you even a glance. You leaned against the wall of the elevator, biting your cheek.

“Me neither. I think it’s fun. I already know what I’m going to get mine.” You’d tried to sound relaxed, but the inclination of your voice came out nervous. 

Miguel raised a brow at you.

“I’m not telling,” you replied, guessing at the wordless question. Miguel crossed his arms; head still pointed in your direction.

 “I-It would spoil the surprise. I- wait. I didn’t get – I didn’t get you! I-” Your hands pulled from your pockets and motioned in the air. 

“I figured,” Miguel interrupted with the ghost of a grin. You went quiet before letting out a long sigh.

“Sorry. It’s been a long day.” Your voice was back to calm. Brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, you could feel the warmth on your cheeks as you scolded yourself, stop being pathetic – you’re a grown woman. You’re a fucking doctor . You’re-

“Mhm.” Miguel mumbled as the elevator finally stopped and clicked open. You didn’t wait as you were greeted by cold winter air.

You practically ran out of the elevator.

Desperate to get away, you didn’t notice when your foot met ice – melted snow had turned to ice in the garage. You let out a surprised shriek as the concrete ceiling came into view. 

Rather than cracking your head open on the concrete like an idiot , you felt hands grab at your armpit and waist, and the back of your head hit something warm and hard as you scrambled for purchase.

“You need to be more careful, chica.” Miguel’s deep voice broke your stuttering train of thought as you relaxed into his grip. Your knees pulled in as you finally stopped stumbling, head lifted back as you saw Miguel staring down at you – smirking .

“ Uh-huh ,” you replied dumbly, eyes wide and a single curl falling across your gentle features. He hoisted you back onto your feet proper and let go. Awkwardly, you swayed and patted your coat.

“T-thanks. I thought I was going to crack my head open.” you remarked with a nervous grin.

“I’d hate that. You’re a good member of the team, doctor. I don’t think I’m too good at making that clear,” Miguel remarked with a sincerity in his voice that had your eyes widening in confusion.

“…Thanks. You’re a good lead. Better than my previous boss. He didn’t like me very much. First job and all that.” You reached out and awkwardly patted Miguel’s arm. Miguel glanced down and raised a brow.

You pulled back. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. Just don’t forget about the compiled review you and Dr. Monroe are supposed to finish tomorrow.” He kept the conversation casual and work focused. 

You were thankful for that.

“Will do, boss.” You grinned, hands crossing over yourself as you ignored the heat on your cheeks. It was cold enough that you both could see your breath. You hoped Miguel didn’t notice the way your face burned.

After a moment Miguel waved and went on his way with large strides. For a moment, you stood there, staring at the back of his head as he walked to his own car like a love struck puppy.

Your hands reached up, pinching your red cheeks as you groaned in embarrassment, knowing you were going to spend the next two years laying awake at night screaming at yourself for this. Eventually you made your way to the metro - deciding that you’d get Dr. Yoshida’s gift tonight. Might as well get something productive today.

[zayray030]

Asker from the teachers post, I completely forgot that NRC is an only-boys school, sorry T-T but it’s funnier realising Arca has photos on not only her school but also NRC (Rook and her would get along) xD

Epel would most definitely ask Vargas for some tiles now knowing he’s a former-twink

Ace: Stop auntie Arca you’re embarrassing me :(

Crewel, Vargas, Sam: AND US-

Crewel: seriously though! Why did you have to come instead of Mrs Trappola?!

Arca: Sister has business you know? Oh, how the young age, how I remember the days where you had bad eyeliner and pure black hair with one eye covered, what an emo, is that why you dyed one side white? I remember how you would call yourself “The Designer of Death’s Gown”!-(The dyed white part is canon btw) (also chunnibyou Crewel awww)

Crewel: STOP STOP- I won’t allow you to destroy my image any further!

Vil: it’s already grounded to powder.

Riddle Ruggie Epel:… so any tips for, Y’know..

Vargas:…

Arca: just go to his old social media account on (insert app) by @-

Vargas: NONONO- I will not let anyone see those pictures! Besides I already deleted the account haha!-

Arca: *shows screenshots of Vargas’ old social page with twink Vargas* *wink*

Vargas:…

Epel: wow you’re more twinkier than me

Ace: how were you Riddle-levels of rule following when you made a black market shop??

Sam: hah, ironic isn’t it?

Azul: very

Arca: want some photos?-

Sam: NOOO-

(Write the aftermath (days after the Arca Tarot “tragedy”) if you want lol, I wanna see the result of the aftermath of their teacher status and how the students act towards them now >:))

I can just imagine Ace's mother being swamped with work and so she calls her sister and asks if she could help, and gladly she does because she takes ant pleasure in torturing men

Since I'm currently watching once upon a time I kind of see a regina mills vibe, and I can just imagine her rutting everytime she sees Crewel, meanwhile her and Vil have a nice long chat

Vargas decides to turn this around for himself and make it a positive thing and a way to work the students even harder.

Azul is now fully idol worshiping Sam be aude he wants to now all his secrets

[woodchipp]

"her actions have shown [how much she cares]" not being backed up by any of her actions throughout the game aside, this summary gets even funnier if you take a closer look at what kicks off the plot of One Day Left - Sunny, Kel and Hero confronting Aubrey at her house.

I have Things to say about that scene, both in terms of how it relates to Aubrey and to the game's writing in general.

Right off the bat, the game uses a milder version of "hell" right before inexplicably making Aubrey use the word itself. Something like

AUBREY: ...! AUBREY: Wh-What are you guys doing here?! AUBREY: GET THE HELL OUT OF MY ROOM!!

would've worked just as fine, in my opinion.

This game had three editors, by the way.

When pressed, the first thing Aubrey says about the incident at the lake is a straight-up lie in an attempt to diminish the severity of her wrongdoing. No, her watery eyes aren't going to convince me she's genuinely sorry.

1) Here it is again. Instead of owning up to her behavior at the very least, she continues trying to make the incident seem less severe than it actually was.

2) You "didn't mean to" push Basil into the lake even though he was obviously standing right at the edge of the pier? And you knew he was incapable of swimming? You're a fuckwad.

Accident or no accident, he was in active danger of dying. You chose to argue with Kel on the pier since that was more of a priority to you than trying to save your close friend.

And then she tries to reduce the severity of what she did for the third time! Sure, she does seem to apologize afterwards

but then immediately falls back on deflecting blame, which makes the apology come off as insincere.

Really, I would've preferred Aubrey being upfront about being a prick. Her incessant attempts to blame everyone and everything but herself for her choices don't make her complex because the game speedruns her redemption and we don't get to see her growth, which is also why said attempts become very grating after a certain point.

Aubrey isn't the only character I take issue with here, though.

1) Hero. My dude. Your own brother accused Aubrey of nearly killing another friend of yours. Aubrey confirmed said accusation. And you still dismiss it as a harmless squabble like the ones they had in their childhood days??

Either he's also stuck in his childhood mentally or he's just - and I'm not going to mince words here - a moron.

2) I love that Hero's reaction implies he still doesn't seem to take Kel seriously. You'd think he'd try to be more mindful of his little brother following that furious outburst, but nope. He still seems to view Kel as a rash little child he has to rein in.

One could argue this is meant to show that the charscters are flawed, and in a better story, I'd actually be inclined to agree. I like the idea of Hero struggling to move on from his role as the group's "dad", and I'd have liked if the story forced him to understand he can't keep playing their dad with a situation much more complicated than a "typical Kel and Aubrey fight". Likewise, Hero's perception of Kel as an impulsive, bratty kid persisting to the present day and causing friction with Kel himself would've made for an interesting conflict.

Of course, this isn't a better story, so after Kel and Aubrey's reactions, Hero's shallow peacemaking is promptly (and conveniently) forgotten when he notices the last bunch of missing photos.

Peak writing, everyone!

This game took six years and $200,000, by the way. No, I won't stop mentioning that.

My sister in Christ you are literally wearing her fucking headband. You were also given some of her other clothes, it seems.

If Aubrey's problem was about having nothing to remember Mari by, it's null and void to me because she clearly does have more than just the photos. Not only that, but this also comes off as the game trying to use Aubrey's grief as an excuse for her treatment of Basil, which is disgusting for reasons I shouldn't need to explain.

(oh, and Sunny's just Standing There. he doesn't contribute anything to the conversation at all. he could've been removed from this scene altogether and nothing of value would be lost. the main character of all time, truly)

[nemo-draco]

Bendy: Secrets of the Machine Thoughts

Putting them under a spoiler cut for readability

So far, there is a lot of intrigue regarding GENT and their role, as well as the potential return of the Nightmare Run characters.

GENT's involvement so far as been more on the sidelines in the games. It's implied they have similar issues with the supernatural, and they are running experiments with the ink the Machine produces, the books also backing this up with the reappearance of Archie Carter. However, with the new character. Riley Wells, introduced, it creates a more interesting layer to this, in that it is implied that she was recruited by GENT shortly following her dismissal from JDS. Now, if she is a villain or a victim is up for debate. It could be that they hired her as a test subject similar to Archie Carter and her metamorphosis was just far more severe as a result of the traumatic experience in her childhood, or perhaps she provided the specs that ended up producing a real-life version of "Bloodwheel", the more monster-y version of Gaskette that even gets a whole song in Riley's flashback.

Riley's story is also interesting in that it provides a canon explanation for why the Nightmare Run toons are more monstrous, though it really only does so for Gaskette. She's never shown drawing any of the other bosses, just him. Which makes me wonder if maybe she was part of the character design for only him, and the others are all going to get their own stories later on in the game. I really do hope they go this route, mostly because it would be a nice callback to the no longer available Nightmare Run, and you could have some real fun with the bosses 'backstories', depending on how involved you want to be.

Can think of a few things immediately off the bat: Chester being another example of a childhood fear turned into a debilitating trauma, except involving someone who has thalassophobia strong enough to rival H.P. Lovecraft. Kind of paves the way for a lot of spooky imagery involving the ocean, ocean life, and ink.

Dewey at first seemed a little comical to think about in this context, after all, a fear of librarians seems extreme, though thinking more on it my thought is that he's the product of a different type of emotional stuckage. Instead of a fearful person, perhaps Dewey was created by a very angry person, someone who had a lot of trouble controlling their temper and would frequently blow up at seemingly minor issues. After all, Dewey's main character trait seems to be his temper, as we remember from his character card that he has a disproportionate reaction to Bendy knocking over some books. Granted, between the fact that the exact quantity of books is never mentioned, and a cartoon being a cartoon, it makes me wonder if Bendy might not have knocked over a few books, but more likely a few stacks or even whole shelves worth. I mean, what's funnier, a few books coming down or the library getting a spontaneous remodeling job thanks to a careless patron?

...It's probably not so fun for the librarian, but you get my point. So, potentially, we have someone who has a temper problem creating this character as a way to offset their issues. It might just be less helpful and creating a bit of a feedback loop, where they're constantly ruminating over their problems rather than addressing and moving on from them.

Canoodle was another one that eluded me a bit, though there are two potential driving forces that could have fueled his creation. On one front, junkyards aren't exactly friendly places sometimes, and it would be easy for some sort of accident to happen that could produce some sort of negative association, though there is also the fact that a sentient can being in a junkyard creates this almost weird mental image. You'd think that'd be a dangerous place for him, and this is somewhat proven true if you beat him in Nightmare Run, as he's promptly crushed and disposed of. So, perhaps a preoccupation with death, or a person who is constantly cheating bad or dangerous circumstances? It's something, and it could definitely be interesting played out if that's the direction they're planning on going with this.

There are also plenty of other fun moments and little easter eggs for fans, so either way, we do get something fun. I would honestly be over the moon if they did something for all of the Nightmare Run toons though. Gaskette is a good nod, and Riley's backstory intrigues me given the circumstances, and especially the apparent involvement with GENT. Kinda makes me wonder if they're, in a sense, keeping tabs on people who were associated with JDS, people who maybe would have some stronger ties to the art being produced there and potentially have a bigger reaction when the ink is used on them.

It's something to think about, for sure. If anything, I'll enjoy using these puzzle pieces in my own work.

[rlyc00l]

Zer0 is an understimulated house cat (and a spiteful one, at that), Angel is a babysitter calmly reasoning with a difficult child, Rhys is really good at his job (kind of), and Hyperion weaponry is like, stupidly dangerous.

Also under the cut:

The Dahl commando stomped around the ship, shoeless and sighing angrily. “Where the hell are you, Zer0? I just want to talk.”

Zer0 sat on the wheelhouse’s roof, watching him. His boots they had tied together and hung from the side of the boat–after soaking them in water, naturally. Undeployed, his beloved turret was a small box with a strap on it. They hung that from the boat’s antenna. In their experience, no one ever looked up. 

The only one helping the commando was the Hyperion, who was quick to offer up Zer0 as the explanation for why his stuff was scattered around the cabin and his boots and turret missing. He’d even pretended to find the knife they’d given him. It had been a disappointment, but at least the brief panic they’d gotten out of him with the stolen knife was funny. 

Dahl-guy stepped into a puddle as he passed the wheelhouse again. He sucked in air through his teeth. “I swear, I’m going to kill them.” That almost sounded like a challenge. For the second time, Zer0 considered the merits of taking his head. He was well-trained, it might be an interesting fight. And he thought far too much of himself for a guy who called his turret “babe” and wore a tacky wedding ring around his neck. He probably deserved to die. 

The problem was, if they killed him, they’d have to fight the others, and the siren presented a complication there. They had yet to work out the limitations of her power, and, as much as it frustrated them to admit, if she caught them in her phaselock, they were dead. Instead, they had to settle for the lesser entertainment of making him mad. 

The turret took twenty minutes to find. It was the ECHOeye that did it, they doubted the Hyperion probably knew what he was looking for before that device highlighted it. “That’s your turret, right?” The stooge asked, pointing. Goddamn killjoy. 

Dahl’s eyes followed his finger. He sighed heavily. “Yup, that’s it.” 

Zer0 cloaked as he climbed up past them, muttering to himself. He was slightly too short to reach the turret. but he drew his rifle, managing to hook it on the barrel after a couple attempts. They should have hidden his storage deck unit, too. 

The shoes took longer to find. “They wouldn’t have thrown them overboard, would they?” The Hyperion ventured, eventually. 

Zer0 had considered it, but that lacked finesse. Their way was funnier. 

“Shit, I hope not.” The commando peered over the side of the boat, and followed the edge, until he found them. “Are you goddamn kidding me?! Zer0, I’m finding you next!” 

“Can you keep it down?” the Siren called from her spot, not looking up from her book. 

“Oh! Maya, you can’t like, help me out with your powers?” Dahl asked, approaching and holding up his ice-crusted boots. She glanced up. “What exactly am I supposed to do with those?” 

“You know, do your siren magic thing, and uh, thaw them out and dry them?” 

“I can temporarily send your shoes to an alternate dimension, but I fail to see how that’ll help you. Sorry.” She returned to her reading.  

The commando spent much of the rest of the ride trying to melt and towel dry the ice from his boots. It was cold enough that this was futile. When the boat touched the icy shore, Zer0 was tempted to stick around, watch the man suffer in his frozen boots, but they had a CEO to kill and a Vault to open. They left their perch and leapt from the deck with only a “Bye,” to the others.

It was a little past midday, which didn’t give them much time to travel before dark. The days were short, this time of the Pandoran year. They weren’t sure where to find Jack or the Vault, but a Hyperion outpost would be where to find out. Hyperion seemed to have the most success installing its operations in the west: The Friendship Gulag, Lynchwood, Opportunity, the Hyperion Preserve… 

The only path from the shore was a ravine through the cliffs that lined the beach. Bullymong holes were clustered on both sides. Zer0 cloaked as they passed through, leaving their silent hologram at the end. It was difficult to care about fighting bullymong when there were much bigger targets ahead of them.  

“You should really stick with the others.” The AI girl spoke again as they came out into an open area. Ahead of them was a great fish-like skull and a Catch-a-Ride station. Here and there, other giant bones stuck out of the ground. 

“I do not need them. / Tell me, how do I reach Jack? / I wish to kill him.” They made a bee-line to the Catch-A-Ride. A vehicle was just what they needed. 

“Like I said, the Crimson Raiders–in Sanctuary–can help you.” “Are you useless, then?” 

“No, I can help you too, but not alone.” There was a tinge of frustration in her voice. 

“Aid would be useful. / But it’s not necessary. / I’ll find my own way.” “Good luck with that.” 

A buzzaxe was embedded in the Catch-A-Ride console’s screen, rendering it unusable. Did Pandora’s bandits follow no code? These machines should be off-limits, bandits needed vehicles as much as anyone else. 

“Can you make it work? / You accessed the drop barge before. / Digistruct a car.”

“It…It’s too damaged,” she said. “Again, seriously, wait for the others. This planet is dangerous. You’ll want their help.” 

“If working alone, / Is a more challenging feat, / That is what I’ll do.” From what time they’ve spent on Pandora so far, Catch-a-Rides seemed as ubiquitous as fast-food chains were on inner planets. They’d find another. They continued their trek, crossing a rickety bridge made from scrap metal, and entering a second ravine, this one longer and narrower. The opening at the top was so narrow that it was dark inside, almost a cave. There were so many bullymong inside they had no choice but to fight a few packs before they made it through. It set them back another hour. The sun was getting low.

Three Horns Divide proper was a more developed landscape than the Southern Shelf. Dahl had left behind pumps and power lines and surprisingly functional roads that split into several directions. Not far from the ravine’s end, they passed a little cluster of raised buildings turned into a bandit encampment. 

For a few seconds, the ground shook–a small earthquake that shifted the snow on the towering crags and upset a nearby bullymong nest. A regional announcement on their ECHO device followed: “Handsome Jack here, reminding you all not to worry your pretty little heads about those earthquakes. See, with every tremor, my drills get closer to the Vault–to freedom, order, and safety for us all! Except you asshats in Sanctuary.”

That made things easier. If they figured out where the drilling was coming from, they’d find the Vault. Then they could lure Jack out. 

“You could at least stop in Sanctuary, they need a hero.” The AI said. 

They had thought she’d given up. “If you will not help. / Can I shut you up somehow? / Some admin command?” “No, I’m going to continue to bother you until you either work with me or die.” She sounded equally unhappy about this. 

The light was dim when they came to the next Catch-a-Ride. This one, at least, appeared functional. They activated it, only for the words “ACCESS DENIED” to flash on the screen. “Whoa, unauthorized user up in my grill!” a man’s voice played through the machine’s speaker. 

“You can be useful. / This, you can hack for me, right? / So, get me a ride.” 

No response for a long moment, then: “I can’t access that remotely.” She almost sounded pleased with herself. “But you know, I believe a member of your former party is in possession of an ECHOeye. Maybe you should join him in Sanctuary.” 

“Are all of these locked?” 

“Probably. Scooter–the man in charge of them–rigged them to keep bandits from using them. He’s also in Sanctuary. He’ll only authorize you if you join the Raiders.” 

They considered this. The Hyperion stooge wasn’t a skilled enough combatant to diminish their feats. They could take him with him to the Hyperion bases, make him hack their intel for them. In return, they’d keep him safe and alive–the others would certainly fail in that respect. 

“...Fine,” Zer0 said. “I’ll go there.” 

“Great. Would you like me to mark a route on your ECHO device?” 

They’d never heard an AI sound so smug.

———

Rhys had let himself hope that when they touched shore after a fifteen-hour boat ride, they’d be somewhere different from Windshear Waste. Somewhere that wasn’t just ice and bullymongs and bandits. Three Horns Divide was Windshear Waste with more random giant bones sticking out of the ice.  

At least Claptrap was so convinced the Sanctuary locals wanted to throw him a “Welcome Back” surprise party that he stayed behind to give them time to prepare. And even better, Zer0 had left. If anyone was going to catch him doing anything suspicious, it was the sneaky weirdo who popped out of nowhere and seemed to relish in causing problems. 

They could have at least done the group the favor of clearing out the bullymong as they passed ahead of them, but the way to Sanctuary was an endless battle against giant, freaky ape monsters, many of which threw chunks of ice the size of cinderblocks. Rhys felt like he was getting pretty good at dodging by the time Sanctuary’s outer wall was in sight. Beyond it, the city glowed against the darkening sky. 

As they approached, a comm came to Axton’s ECHOdevice. “So you're the ones I've been hearing all this radio chatter about? The Vault hunters Jack tried to kill?” a man’s voice spoke. “Name's Roland–Commander of the Crimson Raiders. That you who our lookout’s spotted, coming up on Sanctuary’s gate?”

“Yeah, that would be us,” Axton responded. 

“Great! I’ll ECHO Lieutenant Davis to let you in. Welcome to the Crimson Raid–” The sounds of yelling and gunfire on his end interrupted him. “Ah, dammit. I’m being attacked, I’ll see–” The comm ended. 

“Huh, that sounds…Bad?” Gaige said.

“Are you kidding? I think that’s just normal here,” Rhys pointed out. “He’s probably got…Guys with him? Soldiers?” Getting the Raiders’ commander out of the picture so soon seemed too good to be true. 

Outside the gate was a little cluster of elevated buildings, seemingly once built for a Dahl settlement, now with all the telltale signs of bandit activity. Graffiti, pelts, bullet holes… A large sign for Sanctuary loomed above it. Right, Rhys reminded himself, he’d have to get used to skull bouquets and corpses staked to walls. 

The gate had an intercom next to it, Maya took the initiative to press the button. “Hey, uh–”

“You’re never getting into Sanctuary, you Bloodshot skaglicks!” A man’s voice responded. A hologram of the speaker appeared over the intercom, a man wearing old Crimson Lance armor. “Oh! Hold up. You’re those Vault hunters! Hurry and get inside!” The heavy gate opened slowly. Ahead was more road, a bridge crossing over a deep gorge–at some point the middle had caved in and been replaced by scrap metal–and, behind a second wall, the city of Sanctuary. Around that wall circled small, vertical structures, next to which the air seemed to glow and distort–the perimeter of a massive shield.

“They’ve got a shield generator right before you get through the gate,” he heard Handsome Jack in his head again. “Why don’t you see if you can hack it? Don’t worry, you should be far enough out of the city that our bombardment won’t hit you. Probably.” 

It was difficult to walk and enter a response, especially while terrified of pissing off Jack, but Rhys managed. He just hoped he made it look natural. “I’d need to get close and my eye glows when I use it–it’ll be hard to do without getting caught. I’ll have to find the right moment.” He braced himself for Jack’s reply–you weren’t supposed to say anything resembling “No” to the man.

“Fair enough,” Jack said. “You know what? I’ll work on a solution for you.” 

“Fantastic! Thanks! I won’t let you down.”

“I know you won’t.” 

As he communicated with Jack, the group made it to the gate, where another armored soldier awaited them. Rhys caught the end of the exchange he had with Maya, “Commander Roland’s ECHO went offline. He left orders for this contingency–make yourself useful, go meet with the town mechanic.” 

“Crap. I mean, uh... darn.” It was the AI’s voice, now. “Roland needs your help. Without you, the Crimson Raiders don't stand a chance against Jack. Please find out where he's gone.”

Past the gate, Sanctuary didn’t seem as savage as Rhys had pictured, or as Hyperion propaganda had promised. That shouldn’t have surprised him, being in Security Propaganda and all, but the bandits had lived up to the hype. 

It wasn’t a nice place, by any means. The road was crumbling, graffiti covered the walls, and trash was everywhere. Not a great first impression, but no skulls in sight.

“So, the mechanic…” Maya started, looking around. “He didn’t give us a map, but-” 

“It’s right there.” Axton gestured to the building in front of them. 

 “Oh.” She seemed uncharacteristically sheepish. “Was that obvious?” 

“Yeah,” Salvador said. 

“There’s a tire. And a garage,” Gaige put in. 

“Of course.” 

“Scraping your innards out from the rock they crushed you with!” Krieg said. It almost sounded like he meant to reassure her, in a weird way. 

They found the mechanic dozing off with his chair leaned back, feet propped on a stack of oversized tires. A wrench still hung in one hand. He was exactly the sort of dirty, grease-stained guy Rhys would have pictured, considering the location and profession. 

He woke as they entered, looking up, blinking. His mouth fell open as he saw them. “Oh, crap, is you Hyperion? Now, if you're here to kill me, you should probably know–” He leapt onto the tire stack, wielding his wrench. “You'll never take me alive, you robotic sons of–” “Woah, hold on.” Rhys put his hands up. “I’m not Hyperion. Anymore. I’m on your side?” Did he still look that Hyperion? He shouldn’t have emulated Jack’s style quite so hard. Maybe he needed a haircut. 

The mechanic scowled, not lowering the wrench. He was looking at Maya, not Rhys. 

“We’re all on your side,” Maya said calmly. “You’re Scooter, I presume? Roland’s missing. Lieutenant Jessup told us to see you about a contingency plan?”  He relaxed, grinning as he climbed off the tires. “Ha! Well, hang me upside down from a telephone pole, cover me in honey, and leave me to a slow death at the hands of hungry spiderants. You’re those new Vault hunters, ain’tcha?”  “So it seems,” she said. “So Roland’s gone missin’, huh?” He paused, considering. “He told me if he ever disappeared, I was supposed to initiate Plan B—or, as I like to call it, Plan Turn-this-city-into-a-floatin'-ass-fortress-of-airborne-awesomeness.” He shuffled around the garage, grabbing three small fuel cells and balancing them on top of each other against his chest. “Y’all wanna help me get these to the center of town?”

Damn, Rhys hadn’t expected much from the Crimson Raiders, but this was far below his least charitable assumptions. Just up and trusting people at their word? No wonder Jack was winning so thoroughly.

Plan B itself worried him. Sanctuary, he’d read back on the boat, was indeed once a Dahl mining ship—hundreds of years ago. Trying to get it airborne again seemed to border on suicidal. Still, against his better judgment, he soon found himself at the town square, bent over an ancient ignition primer and installing an off-brand fuel cell. He kept his metal hand on it as much as he could, lest it started leaking acid. Maya stood over him, holding a flashlight so he could see what he was doing. There were three primers in total. Gaige and Sal worked together at one, Axton and Scooter on the other. Krieg wasn’t to be trusted either to install a cell or hold a flashlight steady—instead, he was alternating between staring at Maya and smacking himself in the head.

“Roland said we gotta have an exit strategery just in case he ever disappeared,” Scooter explained from the next ignition primer over.

“He seriously thinks you can get this ship running again?” Rhys asked, trying to sound genuinely interested. Jack would want to hear this. “Ha! Course I can get ‘er in the air! Just…” He struggled to close the ignition primer’s door and slammed his wrench into it. “Coulda used more time on it.” With all the ignition primers plugged in, the ship's central structure began to glow, emitting intermittent humming sounds. For a second, Rhys almost believed it would get off the ground. Then it shut down with a sad groan and a puff of smoke. “Damn. Well, now we really gotta find Roland. I think he mighta left a message for your types in the Archives.” 

Sanctuary’s City Archives faced town square, not far from the primers. A soldier guarded its door, using a key to let them inside. It seemed to be one of the older buildings, maybe at one point it could have been called “classic”. Now it was a dilapidated mess. Inside, the place was made up of various heaps of stuff: papers and boxes and trash and books. The wall was lined with bunk beds and lockers, like the worst hostel Rhys could imagine. Hanging over the room was a banner: “FIGHT BACK! JOIN THE RESISTANCE”. All lit by dim, bare lightbulbs. It wasn’t skull bouquets, but it wasn’t much better. He almost didn’t notice the woman there. She darted away into the corner when she saw them, then acted like she’d never noticed them. 

“Uh, hi?” Rhys greeted. At least she wasn’t brandishing weapons. 

She looked at him with so much disgust he checked to make sure his shirt wasn’t caked in bullymong guts. Without taking her eyes off him, she lifted her ECHO to her mouth and spoke in hushed tones. “Roland, when you return, we must discuss who you allow into the Archives. It is only a matter of time before I bite someone—and mind you, it won’t be my fault.” 

Right, that tracked, Pandora... 

“Sorry to bother you,” Maya asked, disregarding the woman’s extremely direct, indirect warning. “But we were told Roland left a message here. Where would that be?” The woman’s eyes widened when she saw her. “Disregard that, Roland.” She marched straight up to Maya and plucked out a strand of blue hair before the siren could react. “Roland’s ECHO recording is around here somewhere, but first, if I could make a cast of your teeth…” 

Surreptitiously, Rhys scanned the room, facing away from the others. Finding an ECHO recording with his eye was easy, and soon enough his eye highlighted the only one in the room, sticking out from under a pile of recruitment posters. He downloaded a copy of its contents, then corrupted the original. 

He played the original to himself. “Hey, soldier. If you're hearing this, I'm in trouble. Right now, you're the only thing standing between this city—hell, the whole planet—and Handsome Jack's army. I left info about my last whereabouts in my safe. Good luck.” A code was attached to the message: 9-1-8-0-1-2. It wasn’t useful information for Jack, but hiding it might keep Roland from ever being located. A moment later, Axton found the original recording. Rhys’s hack hadn’t destroyed everything, fragments of audio remained. “...If you're….  Right now, you're the...be-be-be-between this city - hell….army. I left in-in-… luck.” 

Axton frowned. “Uh. Did he have a copy of this?” he asked the strange woman. 

She gave a shrug, too focused on studying Maya’s tattoos. She looked simultaneously repulsed and fascinated. 

Silently, Rhys celebrated. If he kept this up, Jack would have to notice his initiative. See his value. “Never could have done it without you, Mr. Strongfork. You basically single-handedly killed the commander of the Crimson Raiders with that masterful hack,” his imagined Jack saying, shaking his hand at some sort of fancy party he figured the Hyperion bigwigs would have, once they conquered Pandora. 

“Well, shit, what do we do now?” Salvador asked. 

Maya shrugged, pulling her arm back. “If someone’s captured Roland, they’re not gonna stay quiet about it–I imagine Jack is the type to brag?” She looked at Rhys, as if he were an expert on what Jack would do. 

“Probably, yeah,” he said. Which he thought was true. 

“We can keep looking, ask the locals, monitor the ECHOnet. Something’s bound to turn up.” She ventured. “For now, I think we could all use some rest. Tomorrow, we can resupply and begin searching.” 

———

It appeared the beds in the Archives were going unused, so the Vault hunters claimed them for the night. The beds were musty and questionable, but they almost seemed inviting after a freezing boat ride then a long, also freezing, trek. There were laundry machines here too, Rhys had no change of clothes—which was getting grosser by the day, he needed to get some money and go shopping—but he at least threw the bandit jacket in, and, after some hesitation, his vest. It was dry clean only, but it seemed pretty doomed, regardless.

He reported to Jack as he started the cycle. “Their commander’s missing. They want to get Sanctuary flying again. It doesn’t seem to be working,” he wrote. “I hacked a message the commander left about his last location, I think it should slow them down.” 

“Wait, wait, they want the city to fly?” Jack laughed in his head. “What is flying supposed to do?” 

He hadn’t thought about that. “That’s unclear. They seem to think it’s going to do something.” “Well, it’ll kill them faster once the lunar bombardment takes out their engines. I’ll give them that.” Another laugh. “Speaking of, I got an update for you. You’ll be able to switch your eye’s glow off and on now. Keep it on sometimes, good misdirection.” After a few seconds, his ECHOeye received the update. He waited for it to load, then gave his eye a few tries in front of a mirror, just in case. It worked just how Jack said it would. 

“You ready to try the shield generator?”

“Of course.” He wasn’t, he wanted to go to bed. If this worked, he didn’t know when he’d next get the chance to rest. And there was the matter of the Vault hunters. He needed to shove that into the part of his brain furthest from his conscience. Rhys was good at compartmentalizing. He’d screwed plenty of people over before, the Vault hunters were no different from any other coworker he’d backstabbed. The sooner he got it over with, the less bad he’d feel. 

Don’t think about it too hard. 

Do not think about it.  

“See if you can disable their Fast-Travel afterward,” Jack added. “I’d like to get this done all at once. No loose ends, ya get me?”

The other Vault hunters had already gone out to explore the city before settling in for the night, there was no one to question him doing the same. 

Sanctuary had little in the way of bright street lights, and the locals took on a sinister appearance in the dimly lit streets. Most of them, he noticed, had some weapon or other strapped to them. Rhys held onto his collapsed stun baton as he walked. In theory, it would drain a shield better than either of his guns. Thankfully, he walked through the streets and out the city gate unbothered. 

The shield generator was on a raised concrete platform, attached to a building. He climbed the short stairs to it and met face-to-helmet with a Crimson Raider. Of course there’d be a guard. 

“What are you doing here?” The guard demanded.

Rhys scrambled for an explanation. “Sorry, uh, I was—” 

“Oh! I recognize you! You’re one of the ones Jack tried to kill, aren’t you?” His tone became reverent. Like Rhys was some kind of badass. “The new Vault hunters?” 

“Yup, that’s me!” He tried to look proud of it. His heart was pounding. 

“Huh! So, what are you doing out here so late?” 

“Oh, you know, I-I-just getting my bearings. I wanna be prepared if Jack attacks the city, y’know?” He took a deep breath as he looked around, pretending to take in his surroundings. “Sooo…This is the shield generator, huh? Nice piece of tech.” 

“Yup, keeps this whole city protected.” 

“So do you, then, right?” He flashed what he hoped was a charming smile. “This uh, this has to be the first thing they’d target, and you’re the one protecting it.” With what he hoped was a subtle glance, he scanned the generator. His ECHOeye told him it was of Dahl make, but nothing else. 

“You’d think so, but Jack’s given up on attacking us head-on, and it's been a while since bandits made it over the bridge.” Even as he said it, the soldier stood up a little straighter. 

It was old tech, unconnected to a network. Keeping the shield running was a simple matter of plugging the core in and throwing some switches that would be in the building. The best Rhys could do was shut it off until someone hit the switch again. That wasn’t worth risking his life. 

“Hey, still, gotta-you gotta stay vigilant. Can’t be easy, out in the cold all day-or, night.” Rhys went in for a wildly uncharacteristic slap on the shoulder—it seemed like the kind of thing you did with soldiers who inexplicably respected you. “Keep-keep at it.”  

He tried to walk away at a normal pace, and only exhaled again when he was out of earshot. Well, that was a bust. At least he could get some sleep. 

“Can’t hack it. But, good news, they only have the one guard on it?” he sent to Jack.

“Naw, they have bunkers inside that building. Alarm goes off, there’s about twenty more of ‘em. We tried that already.” 

“Oh.”

“Good try, though, kiddo. You’re gonna be useful yet.” 

Rhys felt a surge of pride, even through the residual anxiety. He was back at that imaginary party. This time it was short-lived—just as he walked through Sanctuary’s gate a hand clamped around his wrist. 

He swung back, and there stood Zer0, giving him an intense, faceless stare. “I-I- um…” Did they know? How could they know? Why were they here? 

“I need something hacked,” Zer0 said. “That AI is unable. / She says to use you.”  He stumbled forward as they began to pull him along after them.

“For the record, that’s not what I said,” the AI put in.

“What?! What the hell, Zer0? Let me go!” Rhys tried to pull away, almost falling as they yanked back. Their grip was steel.

They looked back at him as they walked. “You’re doomed here, you know? / But, if you’re useful to me, / I can protect you.” 

“Sorry, Rhys,” the AI spoke again. “I was trying to convince them to work with everyone, not kidnap you.” 

Shit.“Yeah, um, I’m my own man.” Rhys thrust the stun baton at them, intending to give them a quick, warning shock. He had a split second to realize “Oh wait, crap, that was stupid” before the searing pain hit him. 

Both he and Zer0 were on the ground when he became cognizant of anything other than that pain. He was sore all over, his right arm was twitching, and he’d bitten the side of his mouth hard enough that he tasted blood. 

“That was uncalled for.” Zer0 sat up, rubbing the singed spot on their abdomen. “OW” floated in front of their helmet. They looked at him, and the letters changed to an “XD”. “You managed to shock yourself? / That’s hilarious.” 

“Yeah, well…” He looked at the stun baton lying next to him. Its battery indicator showed it had been completely drained. Good thing he’d been wearing the shield—also drained. 

Zer0 rose, offering a hand. “Let’s go.” 

“You can’t take a hint? After that?” “You just proved my point. / You won’t make it very far. / Accept my offer.” Standing, Rhys stepped back, wondering if he should run before Zer0 resorted to threats. Instead, he drew his pistol. “Stay back.”

They gave him a “:o” and held their hands up. It felt mocking. “I will not hurt you. / I have perhaps been hasty. / But I mean no harm.” 

“You get why I don’t believe that, right?” 

“No.” 

“Seriously? Are you seriously being weird and menacing by accident?” 

They shrugged, letting their hands fall. “I need one thing hacked. / You don’t need to stay, after. / You can come back here.”  “I’m not stupid.” This was probably how Vasquez lured people into an airlocking. 

“Hold on, Rhys, I’ll talk to them,” said the ever-present AI. 

Zer0 was silent, then cocked their head. “Like what?” they said, softly. It took Rhys a moment to realize they were replying to the AI. They crossed their arms, projected a “¬_¬”.  “Why does it matter / To you, that I work with them? / Why so invested? …Hm…I’ll consider it.” 

“You’ll consider what?” he asked. 

“I’ll stay here tonight. / Tomorrow, you will help me. / Maybe I won’t leave.” “Like hell.” He lifted the gun, in case they’d forgotten. “You-you can stay out here.” 

A red “LOL”. “A puffed-up kitten. / I cannot fault your courage. / But really, calm down.” They bent down to pick up his abandoned stun baton and held it out to him. He snatched it without letting the gun fall, and they walked past him, into the city. Of course he didn’t shoot them. 

“Don’t worry,” the AI said. “They may be a di- erm, a jerk, but they’ll cooperate for the moment. I told them about an assassination job on the bounty board. As long as they think it’ll entertain them, they’ll work with us.” “I don’t see why we need them to work with us. Especially if they don’t want to and would rather go around being sinister and condescending.” Not to mention sneaky and occasionally invisible. 

“Trust me, they’ll come in handy.”

[forgottenarthur]

The Eagle & the Raven | Arthur & Edmund

It could easily be said that Edmund brought out the worst in Arthur. In truth, it wasn't any particular quality of either boy that made this so but, rather -- at least in Arthur's case -- what his brother represented to him. While Guinevere also offered a challenge to Arthur's own imperial hopes (and, indeed, needs -- Arthur did not believe he would survive his bid for the throne, should it fail), it was Edmund whom Arthur saw as the genuine threat.

Edmund was a collection of powers Arthur could not hope to contest, not really. Edmund was sharper, more calculating, and more educated. He was surrounded by witches, and heathen kings and gods were to be counted amongst his ancestors. He was subtle and slippery and Arthur rarely saw his barbs coming, till he came apart, all unprepared, the sharp sneer of his witnessing father clouding over Arthur's vision like the bright after-image of a blow to the head. But perhaps, indeed, Edmund's most formidable weapon was the one to which Arthur had the least resistance: he was Arthur's brother, and Arthur loved him. He knew that one day he must harm him, if he wished to survive, but Arthur had no desire to strike that blow.

Today, though? Today, he maybe did wish to hurt him. He couldn't say why, precisely, but the mere thought of Edmund pushed Arthur towards fury, and it was a fine feeling. This was how he ought to feel about him: his life would be easier if he did. The boys had bandied their usual barbs, that morning, and while Arthur was still smarting from them (these intellectual blows were always beyond his power to overwhelm), he'd caught the image of Edmund chatting with Aria from the corner of his eye while Arthur worked the practice yard. He'd been so absorbed in watching Aria's smiling eyes, locked on Edmund's, bloom into joy, that he'd not seen his opponent's blow coming, leaving Arthur staggering to the ground at the last moment. He'd lost the round -- and they were still talking as Arthur limped away.

It truly was a wretched day.

Arthur had been doing nothing but stewing since the event, but perhaps the thing that he regretted most of all was that he'd walked away from the fray -- not the practice yard: that was the only responsible and honorable move after his loss: but he could have walked up to Edmund and Aria, might have given a go at making her smile, himself, but instead he'd limped off to go nurse his wounds alone. So sure was he that Edmund's clever tongue would only leave him looking foolish in front of Aria, he'd not even given him the chance -- or taken the chance that perhaps (unlikely though it was), the matter might have gone another way, entirely. In truth, it wasn't Edmund's fault that Arthur had retreated before engaging -- but it was Edmund at whom he directed his anger.

His leg was still sore, but it was well enough, but still when he saw the opportunity approach -- he took it. As Edmund approached to take the last available chair, which happened to be beside Arthur, Arthur swung his leg up into it.

The ministers and generals were gathering, as they often did, for a conference with the emperor following the riots that week but -- they each of them in the room knew -- the emperor would leave them all waiting for hours till whatever time he decided he was quite ready. With the other ministers and generals all cahtting amongst themselves, no one noticed as Arthur beamed at his brother.

He gestured to the chair, grinning smugly to himself. "You don't mind standing, do you? My leg hurts like the blazes. But those're the risks we take, those of us brave enough to enter the training yard."

This was his go-to jibe, but it didn't satisfy him the way he wished, and he swallowed hard, glancing away from his brother in anger. Did she think he was more handsome? Funnier? More kingly? He was cleverer, Arthur knew that, he was quicker, and she liked high intellects. Aria was brilliant, really -- she knew everything about this place, its people, its rivers and its skies. She knew how to make the people love her, too. It was easy to love Aria -- quick wits and sharp tongue and spirited discourse, all. He couldn't blame Edmund if he'd set his sights on her. And he couldn't blame her, either, if she thought him a better match. Edmund was quick wits and sharp tongue and spirited discourse, too, in a way Arthur could never be. But it didn't stop the idea from making Arthur angry. Spiteful. It was an iron band around his chest.

All he did was try his best -- and it was never, ever enough. It made him sad. It made him angry. And it made him glare at Edmund, too, made him glare and cover it up with a glib smirk as if it mattered nothing to him.

He hadn't expected to feel this way, and he didn't like it. He didn't like what it meant. Didn't like how it felt. Didn't like that he'd likely lose this to Edmund, just as quickly as his father's crown. He was about to lose her. He could feel it. Just like he'd lost Eithne. Just like he would always lose.

"Or maybe you were too busy flirting with captives to join us, this morning?"