#go stream . but that would make me a very obvious target & there is Nothing i can fucking do abt it bc that is just how my body is

[aropride]

like what the fuck am i supposed to do

[animeloverskylarmoon]

Jujutsu Kaisen Fanfiction- Chapter 6

"Today will be a special practice."

You knew you should have been suspicious when he suggested your training be done in the forest.

"Is there a problem?" Gojo questioned.

"Don't act innocent, are you really going to pretend like nothing happened!!"

"Of course not, I was very serious about it."

You growl. You couldn't figure out his angle.

"(Y/N). "

You turn at the voice behind.

"Nanami?"

Why was he here?

"We both decided that in order to see how far you can go, you would need a real challenge. " Gojo explains. Nanami draws his blade.

"Today you'll be going against us both." Your eyes widen.

"W-What!!"

You were confident in your abilities, but Gojo was on another level, and you'd only partially been able to match Nanamis's abilities. How did he expect you to best them both at your current level?

"Don't worry, I'll only be using ten percent of my power, promise." He held up his pinky.

You drew your own blade, eyes marking them both. Nanami was behind.

"It doesn't seem like I have much of a choice." You raise it, and Gojo smirks.

"Let's get started."

They both fired off in your direction, and you jumped above, barely dodging the attack. Nanami was quick, he swung while you were still airborne. Blocking the attack with your blade, you used your arm to defend against Gojo's from above. The result was not very desirable. Your body went pivoting, slamming harshly into the ground. Both males stopped momentarily to gauge your position currently blocked by all the smoke and rubble.

The collision was harsh.

"Ah, maybe that was a little more than ten percent." Gojo chuckled.

Nanami's eyebrow twitched.

Gojo wasn't that great at holding back.

The stream he feels makes him return his focus.

"She's been down there for a while. I can feel her cursed energy, but it's spreading."

Nanami moved his head to the side, the flying blade nicking just a strand of his hair. His eyes marked the blade that was levitating, a steady flow of energy around it.

"How clever, she's managed to implement her cursed energy so it acts by itself." Gojo remarked.

When they were finally able to see the ground, there was nothing but an indent in concrete.

"Watch your back."

Nanami flinched. The kick you deliver he evades. But in the wake of it, you have knocked his blade right out of his hand. It spins in the air, and soon it's engulfed by your energy. Just like the other one.

"Her target was my blade from the beginning."

He massaged his palm, and Gojo laughed.

"Good work, you now have two weapons at your disposal. But what are you going to do.." 

He disappeared and you grit your teeth, marking each direction.

"When your enemy doesn't use weapons."

Despite the clear advantage you now had, Gojo's sudden appearance in front of you makes you panic. He grabs a hold of your hand, and you prepare for the worst, but he doesn't do anything. He's just looking at you.

"What's he doing?"

You can't figure it out, nor can you get out of his grip.

"That's enough."

Nanami's stern voice says. He's by your side in a matter of seconds, and you drop both blades, no longer keeping them up with your cursed energy. Gojo releases your hand, and Nanami stands at your side protectively.

"What point were you trying to make?" Nanami sounds angry. Gojo folds his arms.

"I think it's obvious we're both taken with her. Don't you think Nanami."

You really didn't think Gojo would say such a thing.

"So what are you suggesting?"

"Well, since it's clear she'll have a hard time choosing, why not compromise." Gojo suggested.

"Wait a second...WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU GUYS REALLY NEGOTIATING WHO GETS TO HAVE ME!!"

"Then would you prefer just one of us?" Nanami asks.

"A-Are you really going along with this!!!"

Nanami slides his glasses off.

"I can't say that I'm happy, but Gojo is known for acting irrational. He'll pursue you regardless of what I say." You blush.

They must be kidding. This had to be a game. He was messing with the both of you.

"He's just screwing around, do you think he's serious about-"

Your eyes spring open at the pair of lips that land on your own. Nanami looked just as shocked. He swung his fist at the male, and Gojo jumped back.

"My apologies, I guess I got a bit annoyed with all you were saying."

Your eyes shake as you cover your mouth in shock.

"H-He kissed me...."

"None of us are willing to forfeit, so this is the only alternative that we all end up happy. Don't you think so?" Nanami's eyes narrow at the suggestion.

What other choice did he really have?

"Excuse me."

You move to a tree, and they both look confused. When you slam your forehead into the solid surface Gojo and Nanami sweatdrop. You turned back, blood dripping down your face.

"Eh, so I'm not asleep. Eh heh heh heh."

You let out some concerning little giggles.

"I think we broke her." Gojo mutters.

"It's your fault." Nanami points out.

[opinated-user]

Lily has responded.

More D.A.R.O style exercises.

raise your hand if you're surprised.

more than that… i can't stress enough how much LO is lying. and i don't mean about the accusations from Courtney or about Courtney, but on the very first line.

"my sister is lying about me because i talked about her being abusive and participating on the abuse coming from my parents so she's retaliating."

this is factually wrong and anyone can debunk this. anyone can go through my blog right now, see the date in which i started talking about "someone claiming to be LO's sister" claiming a bunch of things about LO and then compare that with the date in which LO started really hamming in about how her sister was awful, how Courtney tried to kill her, how much of a little bully she was.

before we started talking about the allegations from "someone claiming to be LO's sister", because we didn't had any confirmation at the time, LO barely even talked about her sister. the most all of us knew was the story about beating her 15 times over a control remote and she ran away from home. it was only after Courtney made her accusations that LO suddenly felt talking a lot more about her childhood and her sister.

i too need to point out how LO still doesn't know what reactive abuse is. LO, i'll explain it clearly since you don't seem to get this: everytime you accuse anyone of being an example of "reactive abuse", you're saying that they're reacting… to the abuse you put them through. that's what the actual term means. it doesn't mean "this person abused me in response to me defending myself from their abuse", which i think is what you think, but rather "this person is reacting to the abuse they're going through."

you basically admitted that you abused your sister and this is her reacting to it. you're not the victim, you're the main abuser when you use that term and applied it to someone else. this is the second time you do this same mistake, you did it with Lizzy too.

google is free. use it sometime.

on top of that… a racist? do you really want to talk about racism? with your brownfacing avatar and appropiating of a Cherokee identity that has nothing to do with you? i see you still have "indigenous" on your bio despite being white and having no relation with no indigenous community, because you simply refused to all these years. i see you aren't doing anything to change that disgusting feathered earring you shove on your avatar to try to make it seem more "exotic". if you want to talk about racism and colonialism, how about we start from there?

she's lying about what we're even accusing her too. now, why does a innocent person even needs to do that? we accuse her of being an enjoyer of CSEM, which we have reason to believe she is, not of producing that content ( if we did that you'd read me on a very different tone than the one i'm using right now), of preying on minors (some of them even gave testimony) and… is it really just an accusations if almost everyone you have met has come out accusing you of abusing them on some way? or is that just pointing out the obvious? but the animals part is completely made up. i don't think none of us would trust LO with our pets or to properly take care of an animal if one landed under her care, but that's a very different issue than outright accusing her of having already harmed an animal. but how interesting that you even brought that up. (especially with how you have talked multiple times about harming rats you found in your apartment and "joked" about throwing rocks to cats during streams. i almost forgot about that, but thanks for reminding me!)

for the hundred time… the fact that she hasn't been arrested doesn't mean anything. thousands of innocent people are rotting in jail and a bunch of criminals are walking around consequences free. you'd hope the person who made a big show about "denouncing a pedophile" (piggybacking from the work other people did in fact) who end up free and not arrested, despite the mountains of evidence and testimony, would know that. but suddenly the system is perfect and the law is always correct. only when it comes to show that LO hasn't been arrested… yet.

"i got accused of faking cancer"… based on the fact that you constantly contradict yourself regarding this issue, didn't know the first thing about the actual treatment and somehow expect us to believe that you were in treatment while also streaming long hours at night or morning playing videogames with no sign at all of illness whatsoever. it's based on the fact that we did actually google, some of us do have experience with cancer from our loved ones and we know that your story makes no sense no matter how many times you tell it.

it also doesn't help you the fact that you even started talking about a cancer when Courtney did came out with her allegations. almost as if you were using it as a distraction. you didn't thought i forgot about that, did you?

where is that lawyer, LO? i have been talking a lot about you in this blog, i'm one of the people giving out the worst accusations against your persona. even before Courtney ever said a word, in my blog is where the "rumour" of you enjoying CSEM gleefuly started. i accused you of preying on children, even more than other blogs did. i accused you of being aware that the material you enjoy was made with the suffering of real children and liking it all the same.

where is my formal accusation, LO? how come i can walk around a free funny onion if all i do is say lies about you and so egregious at that? i guess according to your logic, they must be true. it must be true if i haven't been contacted by your absolutely real lawyer that somehow you can pay with who knows what money. because those are serious accusations and, if it were me, i'd absolutely do everything in my power to stop the spreading of them. if i were innocent, that is.

i'll be waiting the call from Saul Goodman.

[cattimeswithjellie]

I posted 1,653 times in 2022

That's 1,653 more posts than 2021!

218 posts created (13%)

1,435 posts reblogged (87%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@theminecraftbee

@eyes-inthe-skies

@raisans-art

@made-nondescript

@elytrans

I tagged 1,455 of my posts in 2022

Only 12% of my posts had no tags

#hermitcraft - 117 posts

#goodtimeswithscar - 91 posts

#double life smp - 69 posts

#grian - 66 posts

#double life spoilers - 58 posts

#lmao - 33 posts

#eggies! - 33 posts

#desert duo - 30 posts

#hermitblr - 21 posts

#third life - 17 posts

Longest Tag: 138 characters

#when this is over somebody needs to make a too many cooks style theme song for it where every verse is the genre for that week of the game

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Honestly now that I think about it, the part that's the most striking about the scene where Grian finally tells Scar they're soulmates is the fact that Scar goes along with it at all.

Scar can see the dripstone and he knows what it does. Grian has led him into this exact position before with glib promises of safety on his lips and then killed him. The first thing Grian did to him in the last game was steal a life from him. As far as Scar knows, Grian is his opponent in this game and he has no qualms about killing people with traps long before his red life.

And yet Scar follows Grian willingly onto the target and does not try to get away, apparently content to let Grian hurt him if that's what Grian really wants to do. But of course he looks away at the pivotal moment, focusing instead on something soft and comforting. Who would want to look their best friend in the eye at a moment like that?

2,423 notes - Posted June 18, 2022

#4

Hermitcraft's Season Nine combination of "creeping eldritch horror" and "Looney Tunes shenanigans" actually blends in an oddly pleasing way. Like, yes you could see a rock with a bloody flesh-geode inside, or a machine that eats worlds, or a library build on nothing inside an endless void, but you could also watch a guy splat himself like a bug against a bank vault door for ten minutes or watch someone drop an anvil from the sky onto their rival's sandcastle. What could be next?

2,722 notes - Posted May 16, 2022

#3

Can't stop laughing at how smoothly and instantly Scar pivots from "my cookies are all natural and not those nasty processed Giga-Pies" to "my cookies are SO processed you would not even BELIEVE how mechanized and automated these cookies are" as soon as he gauges his audience. What a sales-elf!

3,426 notes - Posted April 24, 2022

#2

Being on Twitter long enough to understand concepts like "brutal ratio" probably makes me a worse person overall, but on the other hand this is very funny.

3,885 notes - Posted October 29, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Cleo's stream today is very funny, she has pointed out the obvious fact that she and Bdubs have had conversations about Twitter and Tumblr as far back as the trouble she had on Tumblr back in 2020 or so, and that Bdubs is very aware of the existence of internet content beyond what is tagged to his attention. She agreed wholeheartedly that him pretending he doesn't is very funny, though.

Now I've got the image in my head of Bdubs trolling Hermittwt the way a dad plays hide and seek with a little kid. "Oh NO! Is there something hiding BEHIND THE DOOR? Maybe I'll go over there and TAKE A LOOK! Or... is there something IN THE CUPBOARD?" and meanwhile the fandom is standing behind the curtains, making a visible fandom-shaped lump in the fabric and giggling loudly.

4,941 notes - Posted August 29, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[letarasstuff]

Doesn't she love me anymore?

(A/N): This was requested by an anon, I hope you like it as much as I do!

Summary: Spencer's daughter starts to question why her mother left the small family early on

Warnings: Mentions/undertones of bullying, an absent parent and descreptions of the concequences for the child, So. Much. Angsty. Feelings.

Wordcount: 2.5k

✨Masterlist✨ _________________________________

“Daddy?” Spencer turns around from the frying pan to look at his daughter. Against common belief, he is quite the cook. But this only started when he became a father, after he realized a child won’t be able to live off of a diet consisting of coffee and anxiety, just like he did at the time. “Yes, Sweetheart?”

She looks down to the piece of paper on the kitchen counter in front of her. “Why did Mommy leave us?”

The spatula falls to the ground. It’s a question the father did not expect on a Tuesday morning before school. “It’s because of me, isn’t it? She saw me the first time and didn’t want me anymore. It’s my fault Mommy left us, left you, just like Linda said.” Tears begin to stream down her face.

“No no no”, her father is quick to turn off the heat and walks around the island to hug his daughter. “None of this is your fault. I don’t know what this Linda said, but it is not true. Your mother had her own reasons to stay out of our lives, but it has nothing to do with you.”

This doesn’t calm her down. “What are her reasons? Why did she leave us? Why did leave me?” Frantically she tries to keep her sobs down in order to speak. Spencer never has seen her this upset.

“Sweetheart, are you sure you are in the right state to talk about it now? Why don’t we calm down and get something for breakfast on our way to school and talk about it after I pick you up this afternoon?” He suggests, hoping the thought of a cup of hot chocolate from their favorite bakery would help her.

(Y/N) looks up at him with bloodshot and glassy eyes. Snot runs down from her nose. Spencer is quick to get her a tissue and make her blow into it, cringing internally about all those germs. “Do you promise to tell me more after school?” Big eyes look up at him and the father hurts. It hurts him, because there are so many things in her future that will break her and all that because of her mother. He can’t shield her from all of it, as much as he wants to he isn’t able. Because there always will be people, people like this Linda, who will make the girl conscious of her absent mother.

“I promise”, he tells her and holds his little finger out for her. (Y/N) smiles while linking hers with his, knowing her father will keep this promise just like any other of his. “Good, and now pack up we got a bakery to visit!” Quickly the girl grabs the piece of paper in front of her only to shove it into her backpack.

A little later she sits at her desk and looks at her teacher expectantly, just like her fellow classmates. “Ok children, today we won’t work further on our addition and subtraction worksheets-” The teacher’s sentence is cut short by the eruption of cheerful shouts. Just (Y/N) looks at the multiplication sheet in front of her.

The teacher is quick to quiet the class again. “Instead we will continue our work on the mother’s card you started doing yesterday. Linda was so kind to tell me that you don’t have the chance to finish them at home, because your moms are there. That is why you do it here and your worksheets at home.”

With a frown on her face (Y/N) pulls out the blank piece of paper that made her feel bad ever since her teacher handed it out to her yesterday. While everybody around her chatters happily with other classmates, she just stares at the paper. It is a reminder of something she doesn’t have, something she lacks and will never get: A real mother. A hug from her mother. Not even the motherly reassurance one gets after a nightmare. Nothing.

“Hey orphan. Ya realizing your mom doesn’t love you and that’s why she left you?” Linda, someone (Y/N) later learns to call a Mean Girl, struts up to the younger one’s desk. A sigh leaves her lips before answering. “You do know for an orphan I need to have neither a mommy nor a daddy. And I do for a fact have a dad, a loving one actually.”

A more light than hard slap on the back of her head makes the girl’s body jolt. “I don’t care, but I know that your mom hates you enough just after looking at you to know she doesn’t want anything to do with you.” After that Linda goes back to her table, leaving (Y/N) feeling more miserable than before.

Some starring on the paper later her teacher passes her table. “Is there something you want to talk about, Sweetheart? You seem very sad.” That is an obvious fact. Finally the girl is able to lift her gaze. “Miss Ramirez, I don’t know what to do.” This is probably the first time ever she said this sentence in school.

“Mother’s day is in a few days, Sweetie, and this is why we all make these cards. It’s a thank you to your mom and a way to show her how much you love her. You love your mom, don’t you?” The shake of her head shocks the teacher. Immediately an alarming signal rings through her head, because this is a red flag. “Why? Did she do something?”

“Miss Ramirez, I don’t have a mommy. She- she left Daddy and me.” Tears fill (Y/N)’s eyes. Her teacher is quick to hug and sush her. “Oh Sweetie, this is not a bad thing. I’m sure your mom loves you very much, even if she is not there with you. Do you wanna go out for a bit to calm down?” Meanwhile she connects the obvious signs of a single dad in her mind. Missed parent teacher conferences, unnecessary hovering over the child and the tendency to be categorized as a helicopter parent. Yes, Dr. Reid ticks all of those boxes.

It’s the second time of the day that an adult asked (Y/N) to calm down, and frankly it doesn’t really help with the situation at hand. “Can I do my homework outside? It’s too loud in here”, she asks between sniffles. Both of them know that the class’ volume is not the real reason for the request. “Of course, Sweetheart. If you need something, just come in and ask me. Alright?” (Y/N) nods and gets her multiplication sheet and a pencil before leaving the classroom.

At the end of the school day, Spencer is there to pick up his daughter. For days like these, where are no cases, Hotch gave him a free pass on (Y/N)’s very first day at school to leave the office earlier to be able to pick her up himself. As a father and someone who works the same high demanding job as him, he knows that little things like these are often the most important. And even if there were a case today, Spencer would have stayed back. He promised his daughter the truth and this is what he is going to tell her.

“Hey Dr. Reid. Do you have a moment?” Her teacher greets him at the classroom door. Concerned about his child’s wellbeing he nods and follows her back out of the room. “I gave the children the assignment of creating a card for their mothers, because mother’s day is rolling around. Today (Y/N) told me her mother left you, is that right?” This is the moment Spencer connects the dots. This is the kick off that made her question her mother’s motives about leaving all of the sudden.

The young doctor clears his throat. “Uhm yes, that is right. Actually, I’m going to talk to her about it right after school on her demand.” Miss Ramirez nods with an understanding nod. “Thank you for your honesty, Dr. Reid. I also want to warn you, in two days we will hold a celebration in honor of mother’s day with the kids’ mothers. You are invited as a father, because this is a special situation. But I also give (Y/N) a free pass for this event. It can be very traumatic for her.”

The dad thanks her, but his thoughts are somewhere else. He is mad. He is mad for his daughter, because she will always be the one with a “special situation”. The odd one, because yeah, it isn’t uncommon for fathers to leave (which isn’t anything less sad and traumatic), but an absent mother hits differently.

But Spencer is also hurt. Hurt, because for her young age, there is already the word “traumatic” thrown around. No, it isn’t enough that her dad works a job with the risk of him not coming home from a case again, or being the target of an enemy. No, she also has to go through the experience of missing a parent, never knowing how her life would be if it wasn’t for someone like her mother.

Even with Spencer trying to fill that role, there will be a time where (Y/N) will ask herself all of the “what ifs”. He can’t stop it from happening, and that is his biggest pain right there. Because he can’t shield her from her own thoughts. At the age of six she already is a bright, brilliant and talented mind. Now in a few years or maybe just months, she will start to think about her mother being the root of her pain, bad experiences and hurt. Her thoughts will lead to a downward spiral of how a person can do something like her mother, who acted like that with the knowledge of which consequences will follow. And Spencer can’t stop this from happening.

“Daddy!” A small thud comes from (Y/N) colliding with his leg. Just by the way she squeezes it he knows that she hasn’t had a good day at school. “Hey Baby. Do you want to go to the office for a bit? I think your Auntie Penelope told me something about a new science set she got for you. Or do you want to go straight home?” Spencer asks after lifting her into his arms. Immediately she hides her face into the crook of his neck. “Home”, she murmurs. Home it is then.

“Aaaaaand here comes the little missy’s hot chocolate!” The father says in a funny voice while carefully putting the cup into his daughter’s hands. She sits covered in a blanket on the sofa, looking expectantly at her father.

Spencer sighs at the lack of reaction. “Are you sure you want to hear it?” (Y/N) nods adamantly. “Ok, but I got to go a bit back for this story

“It was about eight years ago, I worked on a case with your Aunties and Uncles back then. I was the one who had to get the last round of coffee for the night at a small 24/7 diner. As I walked in I thought I died, because I was sure an angel stood right in front of me. Well not-” “Is that Mommy?!” (Y/N) cuts him off excitedly. Spencer smiles slightly. “You need to listen to the story!” The girl shifts in her seat. “Right, sorry.”

As I was saying: well in front, because she sat at the bar waiting for her order. I nervously ordered the coffees and had to begin three times, because I kept messing up, mesmerized by her sole atmosphere. As the waiter went to put the coffee pot on, the woman turned towards me and introduced herself. After that she asked me what I was doing late at night in a small town like that and we somehow forgot everything around us by just talking. After that we stayed in touch. Six months later we became a couple, she moved to DC in order for me to still be able to do my job here.

“Two years later your Mom got pregnant with you, and it was quite a surprise to us. But we felt ready at that time and so she moved in with me and we had you. The first few months were great, we couldn’t be happier. BUt then you continuously became ill. At first just a cold, then the pocks and so on. I think it was the third night in a row where you held us up all night. I took a year off from work to care for you with your Mom. I carried you through our apartment the whole night, giving you a bottle, singing, reading, doing anything.

“Then I saw her standing in the doorway. Even though there was baby vomit on her sweatpants and I had never seen her eye bags being this dark, she was the most beautiful woman to me. I approached her with a smile, but her frown only deepened. I thought it was because she worried about you and your health. Instead she told me she can’t do it. She can’t be a mother, that she wasn’t cut for this job.” Her exact words still resonate in Spencer’s ears to this day. He knows exactly what she said, word for word, and they never stopped to sting any less.

“So Mommy left us because I was too much trouble?” (Y/N)’s voice sounds even sadder than before. “No, it never was because of you. She knew exactly what it meant to have a child. Your mother knew what kind of work it takes and what the future brought. You have absolutely nothing to do with it. Some people are just not made to be parents and it’s better when they realize it themselves and leave the situation.”

(Y/N) nods, her mind running wild. All of that makes plenty of sense but at the same time not. “Sweetheart, that doesn’t change the fact that I love you and I will never leave you. You are my everything and I’m so happy to be a dad to such a wonderful little girl like you. I want you to remember that your Mom may not be here with us, but she still loves you. And I’m here for you, for anything you need, want or don’t want. Do you understand me?”

She nods again and curls up into her father’s lap. “Can we watch something?” She asks after a bit of silence, where both of them indulged their own thoughts. Quickly the TV turned on and some kids movie plays. The rest of the day the small family spends all the time cuddled on the couch, because at the moment they need to feel the other there with them.

The next two days Spencer calls (Y/N) in sick at school and himself at work, because together they fly to Vegas. Just because her own mother wasn’t ready for the job, doesn’t mean they can’t appreciate the work her grandmother did as a mother. That and you never know how much time you have left with the people who are dear to you.

Taglist:

All works:

@dindjarinsspouse @big-galaxy-chaos @jswessie187 @kneelforloki

Criminal Minds:

@averyhotchner @mggsprettygirl @herecomesthewriterwitch @ash19871962 @ellyhotchner

Spencer Reid x child!reader:

@ilovetaquitosmmmm

[romanoffswifey]

Point Blank Part 2

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Summary: Natasha struggles to deal with the aftermath of that night, and life still has a few surprises left to throw at her.

Contents/Warnings: mentions of serious injury, some angst (but don’t worry too much)

Words: 2,280

AN - As promised here is the second part to Point Blank. I’m so sorry that it took me so long to get this out (uni came along and kicked me in the head) but I hope that you still enjoy it

PART 1

Natasha stares into the bathroom mirror, barely recognising the woman who gazes blankly back at her. All bloodshot eyes and puffy eyelids, her face red and blotchy as loose strands of hair cling to the slightly damp trails that mar her cheeks.

She swallows thickly against the soreness of her throat and raises a shaky hand to her reflection. The skin of her fingers raw from where she had scrubbed at them. As if she could simply wash away the feeling of your blood on her hands.

You had started to feel so cold when Steve had finally pried you from her arms, he and Tony quickly rushing your limp form from the room. Leaving her frozen there. Watching as her world imploded around her, haunted by the knowledge that she’d been the one to cause it.

The muscles in her jaw and hands clench as realisation washes over her again. Her vision blurs as tears well in her eyes, and she draws back her fist, letting out a grief stricken roar as she slams it into the wall in front of her.

She has no idea how long she stays there, weeping quietly, before Wanda’s hands wrap around her arm. Gently taking her hand away from the web of cracks she’d just created and pushing it under the stream of water once more. 

The redhead tenses when she’s led back into the main part of the room. A wave of nausea hitting her as she catches a glimpse at just how much of your blood now stains the bed sheets. 

The younger woman notices her reaction and hurriedly guides her down the hallway to her own room, knowing that the redhead wasn’t going to stay in your shared room any longer but certainly not trusting her to be in her spare room alone.

Natasha spends the rest of the night laying awake next to the brunette. Staring at the ceiling as silent tears run down her face, as every time she closes her eyes she’s back there. Reliving that moment over and over again.

Morning comes, and a small part of Natasha is glad for Wanda’s grounding presence as Tony leads the pair to the labs. A warm hand on her shoulder helps to calm her when he begins to place machinery around her head, the billionaire hoping to discover the cause of her actions.

It turned out that when she was separated from the team during your last mission, she had actually been captured by a set of Hydra operatives. The agents deciding to try out their latest form of brainwashing on her. A type of subliminal suggestion.

Clearly they had underestimated her skill as she had put up one hell of a fight, even while under the influence of whatever they had given her. This, combined with the approaching battle from the rest of the avengers, meant they had been forced to let her go before they were finished. Only managing to implant a small piece of their directive into her mind.

But a piece is all they had needed.

To take out even one avenger would be a win for Hydra, and you were the obvious target. Your relationship with Natasha meant that it was normal for you to be in close proximity with each other and for you to have your guard down around her. All she had to do was stick by your side as usual and the programing would kick in and do the rest.

This knowledge did nothing to lessen the pain and the guilt that filled her. Did nothing to change the fact that she had been the one to pull the trigger. 

She can’t stand the looks of sympathy that the others keep throwing her and the way they don’t seem to hold her accountable. So she avoids them. Choosing to forgo team meals and quickly dismissing their offers of company.

But she doesn’t go down to see you either. She thinks whatever is left of her heart would crumble if she saw you now. How could she sit next to your bedside when she was the one who put you there in the first place? She’s not sure you would even want her there if she did.

Over the last 5 years you had provided her with everything she had searched for her whole life. Giving her all your love and support, and helping her believe that she was deserving of it. She felt like she was where she belonged when she was with you, like she had found her home. You were the only person she’d ever had the desire to spend the rest of her life with, and she had repaid you by putting a bullet in you.

When the day drags into evening Wanda gets fed up with watching her self destruction and puts her foot down. The Sokovian forcing the redhead to get something to eat or drink before she makes herself sick. 

Natasha now sits quietly at the kitchen table, her dull eyes fixed on the grain of the wood as Wanda busies herself off to the side. The sound of bubbling fills the silence followed shortly by the clanking of metal on ceramic. 

Careful hands come to adjust the blanket around her shoulders, and a mug is placed in front of her. The scent and colour tell her what it is immediately; Yorkshire tea, milk, two sugars. Your hot beverage of choice. 

She finds it laughable that she should seek comfort from your favourite drink while you could be fighting for your life right now. And yet, some traitorous part of her still does. The familiarity of it ghosting soothingly over the ache in her chest.

Her gaze remains drawn to the rising steam but she’s aware of the way Wanda moves to join a couple of people by the door. A small hint of anger flaring within her as she registers the happiness in their hushed tones. Her annoyance grows after she hears only two sets of footsteps walk down the hall. Leaving her with the feeling of being watched by whoever stayed.

“You know, I was a bit upset that you didn’t come and visit me at first.” Natasha’s head  snaps up at your voice. “But then I realised that you’re probably stuck in that beautiful ginger head of yours.”

“How?” is all she manages to rasp. Gaping at you as you stand leaning on the doorframe like nothing had happened.

You walk over to her, not missing the rough quality of her voice or the way she still squints slightly against the soft light of the room. Your heart twinges at how small and broken she looks as she sits there.

Green eyes watch intently as you kneel in front of her and pick up the tea, humming at the taste as you take a sip, then blowing gently over the brim before offering it to the other woman. Your lips quirk into a small smile when her fingers brush over your own as she takes it from you.

Natasha has to admit that it does feel nice against the scratchiness of her throat.

“How are you up here right now?” she asks a bit easier this time, setting the tea back down and hesitantly reaching out for your hand.

“Well, it turns out that enhanced physiology and the best medical treatment a billionaire can buy are very useful when you get shot,” you explain with a half-smile. “In fact, they said that I'll be perfectly fine and left with minimal scarring.”

You place a kiss on the back of her hand and push it under your jumper, guiding it up towards the tender spot at the top of your abdomen. “See, it’s not that bad.”

Through the bandages and the gauze that lay across your skin, the redhead can feel a small rough patch. It’s barely bigger than her finger tip. But she still frowns as she traces over it.

“I’m sorry,” she chokes, dropping both her gaze and her hand, “I’m so sorry.”

Your brows furrow this time. “What have you got to be sorry for, dorogoy?”

���I did this to you, Y/N. I was supposed to protect you and I shot you! You should hate me! You should want nothing to do with me, not be sat here calling me darling!”

“Hey, look at me.” Her teary eyes reluctantly meet your own as you cup her face. “Hydra did this to me, not you. We both know how their brand of mental warfare works and I’m not going to let you torture yourself over it. I love you too much for that.”

“But I still hurt you. I could have done something to stop it and I let you down,” she argues.

“No you didn’t. You tried to fight it. You knew that something wasn’t right and tried to warn me.” You let out a huff of amusement. “Even subconsciously you did try to protect me, just like you always do.”

Her eyes become more focused and her ragged breathing slows down, showing that she was listening to what you said.

Natasha stands and you follow suit, watching quietly as she studies you for a moment before pulling you into a fierce hug. She buries her face in the crook of your neck while her fingers dig into the thick knit of your jump, clutching at you tightly as she breathes in your scent. She sighs softly as you begin to rub comforting circles across her back.

The pair of you stay like that for a few minutes, just enjoying the embrace. Glad to be back in the other's arms once more.

When she pulls back, you bring your left hand up to caress her face and a small glint catches her eye. The Russian finally noticing the ring you’re wearing.

“You found it,” she murmurs as she runs her finger along the metal band.

You flash her a sheepish smile. “It was an accident I swear. And in my defence, for a super spy you do sometimes pick terrible hiding places.”

The place she had chosen to hide it was not the best, she had to give you that, but at the time she was kind of freaking out. She had known for a while that you were the only person she wanted to be with but the actual purchasing of the engagement ring had been a spur of the moment decision, and once she’d returned to the compound the panic had set in.

Despite the fact she had long since learnt that everything the Red Room had spouted about love was a lie, she couldn’t help the hint of fear that rose in her at what her desires meant. What that ring represented. And then there was the worry that you wouldn’t actually want to spend the rest of your life with her. Even though you had been with her for so long already. After everything that had happened recently, the latter of her fears only seemed to grow.

She looks away, nervously picking at the edge of the blanket as she voices her thoughts. “Would you even want to?”

“Would I want to what?” you ask, biting the inside of your lip to keep from smiling as you try your hardest to play dumb.

Her eyes flick back to yours. “Would you want to...get married?” she trails off quietly, finally saying the words you were waiting for.

A bright grin appears on your face, and she can’t help the way her own lips tug upwards as she rests her forehead against yours.

“Of course I want to get married, moya lyubov.” You bump your noses together playfully. “Though, I’ll only do it on one condition.”

Natasha hides the flash of panic that runs through her. She’s not entirely sure she can cope with any more emotional turmoil.

You pull away slightly so you can reach into your pocket, pulling out a small velvet box that you hold up in front of you. When you open the lid the redhead lets out a little gasp at its contents. “That condition being that you, Natalia Romanova, would be my wife.”

For the first time that day the tears that well in her eyes are ones of joy. 

Placing one hand over the ring you’re holding and winding the other around the back of your neck, she pulls you into a bruising kiss. The passion behind it makes you weak in the knees and you can’t help the moan that escapes as her tongue pushes into your mouth, brushing over yours in a way that has no business feeling as good as it does.

After a while she releases your lips with a soft pop, leaving you both breathless and not quite able to open your eyes just yet. You can still feel her smirk though.

“I take it that’s a yes then,” you murmur against her lips.

She chuckles and responds by drawing you into another kiss.

Later, once you’ve made sure she’s eaten properly and she’s helped you with a very relaxing bath; you lay in bed together. Natasha wrapped around you protectively while you read a dog eared copy of your favorite book.

She hums contentedly into the side of your neck as she presses herself closer to you. Her smile widens when she glances down to where you’re absentmindedly playing with her fingers. Knowing that soon you won’t only have each other’s hearts, but each other’s names as well.

Natasha L/N-Romanoff had a nice ring to it, and she has a feeling it’s the one that she’s finally going to keep.

[a-tired-narwhal]

Tell me more about your feelings about the details of Caleb's backstory!

Okay listen anon. LISTEN. This is going to be LONG. Did I immediately rewatch/go back through the entire wrap up to take notes? YES I DID. Anon I'm sorry this is so late, I didn't see your ask until after the stream. I hope this finds you (*＾3＾)/～♡

----

Caleb fucking Widogast. Liam O'Brien always creates/portrays characters that CAPTURE ME. And it is purely the undertow of SUFFERING that I crave.

As a survivor of an abusive childhood, specifically with manipulation, neglect, and physical trauma, and having a controlling abuser in a position of power over you - I was surprised and delighted by Liam's playing of Caleb, and I'm sure that I'm probably not the only one, but Caleb's backstory just had me nodding along. Was not surprised at all by what was revealed about the blumentrio's relationship being trauma-bonding and probably why I'll never be an avid shipper of them. Nothing about Caleb's backstory left me gasping - because it's a relatively common abuse survivor story, except it's in the world of dungeons and dragons with high fantasy and magic and more common place murdering than today in places where most Critters presumably live.

Let's break it down.

Caleb was born as Bren to a less than well off family, who wanted their child to have a better life than them. Bren is a gifted child, and this will immediately put a bullseye's target on a child's back, make no mistake, for abusive persons. Now, I don't know if it's a pretty obvious that parents would trust in a teaching figure to take their child for that child's betterment, because I don't have parents who wish for my betterment ¯\_(ツ)_/¯, but I like to think that Bren's parents handed him off hoping for his brightest future.

Trent is basically the textbook example of a Cult Leader. Beyond the experimentation he did on his students; everything he put the Blumentrio through is how you beat down and brainwash people, especially children/adolescents. Textbook. TEXTBOOK. It was the dnd equivalent of the Hilter Youth. Now my personal experience featured the tool of isolation, so I didn't have two childhood friends to pour myself into and have threesome's with, but that's actually smart of Ickythong, because when you're left alone with your whirling brain for too long, and there's no one to hold over your head - we start thinking those rebellious thoughts, and at some point we decide we have nothing to lose, and we will do ANYTHING to shake that control. No, he left them in that abandoned tower together so they would be forced to bond with each other, as well as allowing them not to die of exposure alone.

Trauma-bonding CAN be a manipulation and used against you. Now. We have three adolescents trying not to freeze to death by being as close as physically possible. For those that don't know; sharing body heat works best skin to skin - ya get naked and THEN you wrap up together to stay insulated. Awkward groping is going to happen, and it's more than likely accidental. But when you add raging hormones to the mix, yo it's not going to stay accidental for very long (that in no way indicates non consent, it can be either way), and the feelings can catch hard when you're young and physical and EVERY HEALTHY RELATIONSHIP YOU HAD HAS BEEN TAKEN FROM YOU, IF YOU EVEN EVER HAD ONE. (I do not know Eadwulf or Astrid's home lives so your guess is as good as mine. We should probably ask Liam)

So you've got horny teenagers, with above average intelligence, being systematically abused... Bam. Trauma-bonded Blumentrio.

BUT HERE'S THE THING. Trauma-bonding can only get you so far. And they are children, actively being raised to NOT HAVE THEIR OWN THOUGHTS AND IDENTITIES. The relationship they built, the romantic and sexual, are based off of a shared hostile environment and survival needs. And when those circumstances are no longer there, the relationship tends to fall apart.

I love that Matt talked about Astrid for a bit, sad we didn't get more on Eadwulf - but Matt didn't really spend a lot of time roleplaying Wulf compared to Astrid, so he'd have more insight into her. I also find it interesting that the Blumentrio took 3 very different, but again SO COMMON, paths in dealing with their abuse. But that's a different rant.

Focus with me now on what Matt said about Astrid. She was actively seeking power throughout the campaign, looking always to climb that ladder to the top, for her own purposes which were not stated, and was willing to do anything, sacrifice anyone, to get that power. Was it a burden to her? Yeah I think so. Did it weigh on her? Again I personally think it did. But she was goal-oriented and she wasn't going to let anything stop her, not even herself, and she hated Trent. Matt implies that all three of the Blumentrio did/do. Astrid, Wulf, and Caleb were wildly different people - I don't think they would have stayed together even if Bren had stayed Bren instead of becoming Caleb.

I know A LOT of people were miffed over how Liam and Matt showed Caleb's and Essek's love for each other; and I am SO glad that Liam touched on this; Essek reminded Caleb too much of Astrid and Eadwulf. Now I know we love to joke that that Redhead Dirt Wizard has a Type (smart, ambitious, vaguely amoral), and believe me I LOVE THE JOKE, but Caleb pumping to brakes on Hot Boi makes THE MOST LOGICAL SENSE AND I WAS SO DELIGHTED WHEN LIAM PLAYED IT THAT WAY. Caleb was still trying to heal himself; WHY THE HELL WOULD HE JUMP INTO A MESS CALLED ESSEK? That's some mf UNHEALTHY, TOXIC romance trope ya got there. People fix themselves, not each other. THAT'S WHY CANON SHADOWGAST IS SO GOOD. THEY ARE WORKING TO IMPROVE THEMSELVES FIRST. THAT'S SO HOT.

Ahem.

So the Blumentrio hangout in Astrid's room to sex and study, in threes and twos (I have weird polyam questions, Liam). Now, I'm foggy on the exact timeframe that was together at Academy > kill your parents > Bren is chucked into the Sanitarium; but it's clear that after the murdering of parents, Bren is tagged as the "weakest link" - maybe he broke because he actually loved his family/had a loving family, maybe the manipulation spell from Ickythong didn't sit on him as well as Astrid and Wulf, maybe boi wasn't made for killing (a lie, the boi is a total killer, you have to be in most dnd campaigns), who knows. But he broke, and Astrid and Wulf handed him over - it would be dangerous for them if they tried too hard to protect him.

Because in that environment, in those circumstances, in that set up; you do what you have to, to survive. You hurt people you love, you hurt people you don't know, you even hurt yourself if it means improving your own odds. It's instinct. It's not your fault. You are doing the best you can with what you have available.

I don't hate Astrid and Eadwulf; I just have more emotional attachment and investment in Caleb, and prefer the color purple on him.

Which is actually a great segue into THE WOMAN AT THE SANITARIUM WHO FREED HIS MIND; Matt Mercer you beautiful man, thank you for giving us a Moonweaver connection, my lil widomauk heart was sent aflutter! So, here's the thing. Places like that, sanitariums, psych wards, etc - if you are not certifiably insane before you go in, you will be eventually. One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest is not a fucking joke. But the thought of some forgotten Moonweaver Cleric recognizing Bren's torment and just, poof, dissolving that spell? *Chef's kiss* glorious, wonderful, everything I needed.

Anon, I don't know if this is what you wanted or expected - but here it is, my sincerest apologies 🐳

[thoughts-on-bangtan]

Hi! What are yours views on the recently released billboard article about bts? I assumed that people agreed on the fact that its was extremely disappointing and disrespectful towards bts but there are many ‘army’ blogs who are still defending that article

From anon: What do you think of the new Billboard article about the boys? 😓

I’ll be honest, I had a bit of a debate with myself if I want to post something about the article or not, if I want to draw more attention to it (like there’s literally anyone left who hasn’t heard about or read it), and if I want to get mad all over again. Since you’re reading this, we all know what conclusion I arrived at.

Usually I try to at least somewhat organize my answers to not jump around or angrily rant, but wow, I don’t know if I’ll be able to get that done this time so please bear with me this once. I’d also usually add direct copy+paste quotes and/or screenshots but I truly don’t want to give this article any clicks, or give that “journalist” and his writing even more direct attention, so this answer will have to do without them, I’m sorry. I’m sure you’ve all read the article, or at least seen parts of it, so you’ll know what I’m talking about in each instance.

You know, in all of this, besides the obvious awful aspects of it all, I also feel bad for the staff (not the Billboard journalist and the editors) involved in this, like for example the photographer who went in and took gorgeous pictures of the members, did his best working with them, only for said pictures to be forever attached to this dumpster fire. And the members who spent so much time during that photoshoot to get only the best results and yet, what does it even matter in the end. As well as the fact that they took time out of their busy schedules to meet the journalist, to answer whatever questions he had, to just end up having to read all...THAT.

As some pointed out, it is though very telling that none of the HYBE/BHM/BTS twt accounts have retweeted the Billboard twts with links to the article. That already basically tells you everything you need to know, as in, that the article isn’t worth our time and our braincells needed to read it.

After so many years I think most of us have come to expect basically nothing from interviews with literally any US publication, but especially magazines like The Hollywood Reporter (remember that mess?) and Billboard, and, well, the bar was in hell and yet they still managed to deliver a result that was, I think, one of or the worst article I’ve ever read on BTS. Especially since large parts of the article weren’t even about them? For a cover story about BTS, what’s up with the lack of interview, the minimal amount of quotes from their answers, the summarization of their supposed words, and the large focus on a “controversy” basically cooked up by haters on stan twt? And the “journalist”, who has shown in older twts that he has a negative bias toward BTS and ARMY, even taking direct quotes from stan twt accounts for western artists to illustrate his point, instead of, I don’t know, legit sources? Showing numbers or anything that would show credibility and a solid foundation for said argument? But instead it’s gossip and malicious accusation based on “I don’t like that this band is successful instead of my fave so I will accuse them of cheating while I ignore all the cheating my own fave partakes in”.

More below the cut:

Of course we were, once again, served the narrative that ARMY are just a bunch of manipulated teens which, let’s like talk about that for a second because there are a lot of layers to this and the further you look, the worse it looks for people like this journalist and everyone else like him openly shading ARMY. 

Let’s suppose ARMY really somehow were millions of girls ages 12 to 18 (who somehow have access to enough money to raise funds for music and also match BTS’ $1 million donation and spend money on so many different charity projects every year) and these journalists, most of them men usually above the age of 30, go around and basically belittle and “hate” on them. Do we see the problem here? The fact that in this case grown adults openly, in publications they are paid to write for, bully teenagers and kids simply because they don’t agree with the musician said teens and kids have decided to be a fan of and support. And because they are girls instead of soccer loving boys, as counter example.

A truly weird hill to be willing to d*e on just to make some kind of (negative) point if you ask me. 

Then of course there’s the whole thing that Mr. Journalist decided to go in with a narrative in mind and seriously sit down opposite Namjoon and basically ask him “hey, listen, what do you think about your crazy TEENAGE fans buying your music (truly the audacity, how dare they) and that they are cheating and manipulating the system? Like that’s not right, right?”. Bless Namjoon and his genius brain for being able to keep his cool and shut down that man with his amazing answer shifting the blame right back onto Billboard and how, if they don’t like people playing by the rules that they themselves have created, maybe they should look at their own system and reevaluate it instead of turning against and point a finger at BTS who, as Namjoon said himself, are simply an easy target because they are foreigners, because they sing in a language that isn’t English, and because they are Asian. And really, is there anything the US music industry hates more than foreigners, POC at that, being successful, or even more successful, than their industry supported artists? Don’t think so.

Also can we talk about how strange the argument of “bulk/mass buying” is when ARMY never goes over the limits Billboard themselves have set up, being four copies of a given song. If they truly were against people “bulk/mass buying” you’d think they would lower the number to one copy per person and that’s it, right, the way iTunes does it. And yet, they did not. Because “bulk/mass buying” is okay, just not when it’s ARMY and Bangtan.

Billboard: Buying multiple copies of the same song is bad and makes no sense. You’re cheating.

Also Billboard: Here, buy EIGHT copies of the same magazine, with the exact same contents but different covers, for $170+ in this neat little bundle.

Make it make sense, will you? Or at least be less obvious with what you’re doing.

It’s a problem when it’s done in a way that doesn’t benefit them, and the greater US music industry and their shady system, but when it does benefit them, it’s totally chill, easy, no problem? It’s so obvious, dumb, and kind of makes me want to laugh but also scream and/or knock my head against my table because it’s just so bizarre yet it’s treated like this all makes sense and is completely normal. And the sad thing is, it is normal. We, or BTS as umbrella term, are a problem because we get things done, we get achievements and #1s and numbers without giving in to payola, paid playlisting, bundles when they were still a thing, and without everything else the US labels do to push their artists into basically false fame. 

And that, ladies and gentlemen and nonbinary friends, is where the issue lies.

While talking about all of this among ourselves (as in ARMY at large) across sns, as well as taking into account some pondering by journalists questioning the intentions of the article, a thought arose and, now that I think about it, it sounds just too obvious and yet here we are. Voting season for the Grammys is coming up sometime soon-ish, and Billboard is one of the major publications that the voting members look at and read when considering who to give their vote to. Now imagine you’re a voting member who until this point had a positive, or at least neutral, opinion on BTS but on Monday you sit down and read this article? Would you still want to vote for an artist being accused of “chart manipulation” and supposedly claiming they didn’t actually want to do music in English but were forced into it despite originally saying something else?

No, right?

And that’s the point. 

This is nothing but a glorified smear campaign against Bangtan across lots, and I mean lots, of publications who picked up the narrative that this article presented and ran with it. The US music industry sees their success and feels threatened because they are showing that when you have true, organic success and a loyal fan following you don’t need any of the paid for tricks to achieve things, you don’t need payola, don’t need paid for playlisting on streaming websites, and don’t need US industry backing. You can do it all on your own, therefore these exploitative systems and institutions don’t make any money off of you which is obviously unacceptable. Even more so when you could actually win, or at least again be nominated, for what is regarded as the supposedly most prestigious music award, aka the Grammys. So, since they know they can’t get rid of ARMY, can’t discourage us from supporting BTS, they go for their image and reputation instead. And that’s what this article tried to achieve. Show that, wow, in the end all the “dark side of K-Pop” stories were true all along because even poor, poor BTS are puppets of their evil agency after all, are forced into things, and are used to manipulate their gullible teenage fans into throwing money at them and manipulating the charts.

How come we’re the only ones who see just how f*cked up all of this is? And the few journalists who are on our side?

Lastly, can we talk about just how weird the use of and the quotes themselves from the members were? Most felt not only out of place, out of context, but also so weirdly out of character some ARMY have started to question how much of their “quoted words” are actually theirs and how much might be, essentially, fabricated/twisted to fit the desired narrative the journalist had from the get go. I know a certain crowd, you know which one I mean, jumped onto what was said about the english songs but also especially the final quote from Seokjin at the end of the article that essentially boiled down to “we were so annoyed and overworked we said screw everything, especially our agency, and now we only trust each other” or something to that effect. Am I the only one who thinks that quote sounded nothing like something Seokjin would say? Yes, he’s said cheeky things in the past, he’s also said bold things, like his entire speech against sajaegi back in 2019, but each time he was polite and stuck to his manners while doing so, yet this? I don’t know, something about it just feels very off. Or JKs quote about how he sacrificed more than just his youth to be who he is now. While we know that is true, after all he became a trainee at a very young age and spent the better part of his teenage years as idol on stage, but has he ever spoken about that negatively? In such a manner?

Someone suggested that interviewers should publish transcripts of the original Korean answers and questions that BTS were asked in order to offer some transparency and also for us to know that what they are quoted saying are actually things they did say. I know that’s very unlikely to ever happen, just wishful thinking on my/our part, especially when a hit piece article is attached to it, but in moments like this, it really would be very helpful. For us, but also to add credibility to such articles and the context in which said quotes are used.

Now, for the ‘ARMYs’ who defended this article, to be honest, I’d very much question how much of an ARMY someone is when they can go and read this article and agree with it. How? I get that for some the things in this article played right into their manti agenda, but mantis aren’t ARMY. And the crowd who decided to, instead of blaming the journalist for the narrative he tried to push with all its negative implications, blamed HYBE/BHM instead? Are you serious? That isn’t how journalism works, or at least it shouldn’t be. HYBE/BHM can’t just go in and say “we don’t like this article, change it”, that’s not how freedom of press works, and also, do you realize how weird it is that you are blaming an Asian agency for a hit piece published by a western publication?

What was interesting though was that, as example, the online merch store Cokodive made a statement on their IG page in which they said the following:

So even they, who could’ve directly benefited from selling the magazine, decided that it wouldn’t be right because that article is a travesty. It’s a small thing in the grand scheme of things, yet it shows that it isn’t just ARMY who are being “sensitive little snowflakes who can’t take criticism” but also others outside the fandom who also see the disrespect within the article and its blatant negativity and lack objectivity.

Personally I saved the pictures but I refuse to give views directly to Billboard when it comes to the “Things you didn’t know about BTS” video as well as the behind the scenes clips of the members regardless of how beautiful they are. And I refuse to give their website and this article any more clicks than I already gave them while reading the article in the first place.

You can be critical of an artists success, you can wonder how they, specifically, managed to become as successful as they did, but what you can’t do is completely ignore shady practices of other artists while attacking those who don’t partake in any of them simply because they manage to fill stadiums and get #1s without those practices. At the end of the day, just like Forbes once said that BTS don’t need the Grammys but the Grammys need BTS, in the same way BTS don’t need Billboard and their shady articles and twts, but Billboard needs BTS for clicks and views and therefore revenue. 

As longtime ARMY it also saddens me having watched Bangtan become more and more disillusioned with the US market, as well as ARMY going through the same thing. Then again, like Namjoon said in the article, it isn’t their goal to become mainstream in the US, all they want is to have a big tour and that’s it. Nothing more.

As twt says: this article should’ve just stayed in the drafts.

[eleanorfenyxwrites]

Where We've Been (Ao3)

My friend @megachewbecca requested something set post-canon between Lan Wangji and Jiang Cheng in which they talk about "why they have decided to channel all their disappointments with themselves into each other". I don't think it came out exactly like that but they do still have a conversation about Stuff!

[Masterpost]

--

“Oh great,” Jiang Cheng snaps with as much venom as he can muster - the type that typically sends his intended target scrambling for cover, and/or has his disciples watching on in undisguised glee for whatever verbal flaying is about to begin.

However, said venom is only occasionally directed at his current target (though it’s happening increasingly often simply through an increase in exposure to each other due to certain Wei Wuxian-shaped influences). In all the times that it has been, however, he’s only ever received the same style of response.

“.....Mn.”

Jiang Cheng’s eye twitches and he refuses to acknowledge the headache already starting in his left temple.

“Don’t fucking start with that. I know you talk.”

Of all the people to be magically trapped in a cave with, Lan Wangji is absolutely without a doubt at the very bottom of his list. Below a fierce corpse, even, because then at least he’d have something to take his frustration out on. But no, he’s stuck with Lan fucking Wangji, because the universe is cruel like that. And this mere days after he had promised Wei Wuxian he would do his best to be more civil to Lan Wangji even though it was the so-great, so-wonderful, so-righteous Hanguang-jun who had a problem with him.

At the risk of sounding childish - he started it!

He walks a quick perimeter around the cave, trailing his hand along the wall to feel for any openings he could possibly miss in the uncertain light of the fire talisman in Lan Wangji’s hand. He’s nearly back to where he began when he feels a breath of moving air and he quickly moves towards it only for his entire arm to sink into what looks like solid rock. He yelps and jerks his arm back from whatever emptiness is on the other side of the illusion and then starts again when Lan Wangji is suddenly at his side between one breath and the next, utterly silent.

Jiang Cheng shifts away from both him and the wall as Lan Wangji steps closer to raise his free hand, pressing it forward until his hand sinks into the ‘rock’ just as Jiang Cheng’s had. He glances at Lan Wangji only to find his expression as impassive as ever from what he can tell, and he’s just opening his mouth to ask what he’s thinking when he suddenly just. Steps forward. Straight into the wall.

“Hey!”

Before he can think better of it, Jiang Cheng stumbles after him, disoriented in the sudden dark and then again by the sensation of pressure and cold closing in on him on all sides. The claustrophobia hits hard and fast as he takes another stumbling step forward - to be caught by a shockingly sturdy grip at his elbow.

“Careful,” Lan Wangji intones, holding the talisman a little higher as he looks around and Jiang Cheng shoves his hand away to straighten himself out, cheeks burning.

“Is it really such a good idea to go wandering around strange magic caves?” he grouses to the unmoving pillar of Lan Wangji’s back. His stupidly tall guan is poking up above his head and Jiang Cheng is seized suddenly with the childish urge to throw something at it - nothing big, just a pebble or something. Just to see if he can hit the point of it from behind. Just to see if he can make the perfect Lan Wangji do something besides walk around looking all...stately.

He absolutely refuses to acknowledge that it was similar desires that had motivated Wei Wuxian to tease and taunt his future husband in their teenage years - this is extremely different.

“We have wandered dangerous places before,” Lan Wangji replies smoothly and the full sentence is genuinely shocking. Jiang Cheng tries to remember the last time Lan Wangji had said a full sentence to him and he comes up blank. For years it’s been nothing but monosyllabic words, one of his plethora of hums, or one of his little duckling-esque juniors covering his ass and talking for him (as if Jiang Cheng can’t understand when he’s being snubbed with or without their ‘translating’).

In the surprise of being spoken to at all, it takes Jiang Cheng an extra beat or two to realize what he’d actually said, and when he does it brings him up short. He knows precisely what he’s referring to, of course, but his mouth quicker than his brain and all he can manage to do is croak a hoarse,

“What?”

Lan Wangji turns back to look at him, face inscrutable in the flicker of the fire talisman, though his eyes are, as always, sharp and keen.

“It was once our common goal to find Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji replies smoothly. “We faced dangers during our search, including Wei Ying himself when we found him.”

“He wasn’t -”

“Dangerous? Hm.” Jiang Cheng can’t help but scowl at the obvious skepticism in that fucking hum. He’ll never understand how Wei Wuxian finds Lan Wangji’s hums endearing (which he has said on far too many occasions) rather than absolutely infuriating.

“He wouldn’t have hurt us!”

“Debatable. He was barely himself, and he did not know we were present at first. It was possible we would be harmed.”

Jiang Cheng doesn’t have a good reply to that so he doesn’t bother trying to find one, he simply starts walking and tries not to hate that Lan Wangji doesn’t even miss a beat as he falls into step beside him, still obnoxiously perfect.

“Alright fine,” he says when the silence becomes unbearable, roughly ten steps later. “So we worked together for a little while two decades ago. So what?”

“Your skills were admirable then, I know they have only improved over the years. I doubt we are in much danger in a cave in a well-populated region. It will not hurt to learn what is here.”

Fuck Lan Wangji, Jiang Cheng thinks with as much vitriol as possible. He can’t say why it irritates him down to his core to be complimented by him, even obliquely, but honestly he’s pretty sure he’d prefer the stony, angry silences he’s been subjected to for so many years instead.

They walk in silence for a little while then, both on alert for something out of the ordinary. It’s Jiang Cheng who feels it first again and he stops in his tracks, holding one hand out and following a thready, barely-there stream of cooler air to a wall, utterly indistinguishable from the rest of the space around them.

“We should mark where we’ve been, just in case,” he says as his hand sinks into the rock like it’s made of pudding. The mental image adds an odd layer of unpleasantness to the cool pressure of it, the idea of it...congealing around his hand making him wrinkle his nose a bit in distaste.

“Mn.”

Jiang Cheng loses the battle against rolling his eyes but he says nothing only because Lan Wangji follows it up with a gesture that leaves a signature on the solid part of the wall next to the illusion, the characters glowing a gentle blue.

“Any way you could do one of those back at the beginning in case someone needs to come hunting for our bodies?” he asks as dryly as he can manage to try to get a rise out of his companion, but all it earns him is a flat look that Lan Wangji doesn’t break as he repeats the gesture only to send the talisman darting back up the path the way they had come.

He’s pretty sure it would be physically impossible for him to scowl any deeper than he does when Lan Wangji waves him ahead towards the false wall, the silent ‘after you’ somehow full of so much sarcasm it’s very much toeing the line of insulting, at least in Jiang Cheng’s book.

This time he’s prepared for the discomfort of the illusion and he walks smoothly through it. He turns to watch Lan Wangji join him and he’s startled to realize he doesn’t even seem to walk through the wall. One moment Jiang Cheng is alone on the path in the pitch black and the next Lan Wangji is beside him looking as unruffled as ever, fire talisman still glowing between his extended fingers held at shoulder-height.

“Do you have more of those?” Jiang Cheng asks begrudgingly with a nod at the light. He knows it’s Wei Wuxian’s invention, and that he of all people has no business asking to use it when he’s spent so long hunting down any trace of his brother’s work to destroy it utterly. He also knows that Lan Wangji is equally aware of this, and yet he simply reaches into the front of his robes to withdraw another talisman between his fingertips and hold it out for him to take. He studies it for a long few moments once it’s in his hands, but he can find nothing suspicious in it at all. It should be a good thing. It is. But it also only serves to make him feel foolish, as he has many times since Wei Wuxian’s return.

“It will not harm you,” Lan Wangji just has to break his silence to supply, because of course he fucking does, the asshole.

“I know that!” Jiang Cheng snaps. He leaves off investigating the talisman any further to stuff it in the front of his own robes, just in case they should get separated. “You think I don’t understand Wei Wuxian’s inventions? I know them better than anyone.”

“Debatable.”

“Fucking debate it then!” he challenges as he storms off, Lan Wangji somehow seeming to walk sedately even as he keeps pace with him.

“Wei Ying is a prolific inventor. He uses our home as a workspace. He describes each of his new inventions to me in detail, and I offer assistance when necessary to refine his processes.”

“Fine, you know his inventions better now, but I’m the one who spent 13 years chasing down all his notes and the morons trying to use them for themselves!”

“Recognition of the work for the purpose of destruction does not in itself lead to understanding that which you are destroying.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?!”

“I assist him with all of his techniques, old and new, demonic and orthodox. I do not, nor have I ever, attempted to ruin his work - unlike you.”

Jiang Cheng stops in his tracks and whirls around to face Lan Wangji who finally has a different expression on his face, though how he managed to make himself look even colder than before Jiang Cheng has no idea.

“ ‘Unlike me’,” he repeats, his voice utterly flat in another way that usually has people scrambling for cover, though of course Lan Wangji seems completely unmoved.

“We are fundamentally different, Jiang Wanyin.”

“Yeah no shit,” he mutters as he turns around again to continue forward at an angry, too-quick clip that Lan Wangji effortlessly keeps stride with, the fucker. “Those people who tried to follow in his footsteps were murderers.”

“Mn. They were irresponsible. Wei Ying has expressed regrets that his notes found unworthy hands to wield them.”

“And yet not one other person ever tried to stop them! It was just me this whole fucking time! What else was I supposed to do, just let them run rampant?!”

“No.”

Jiang Cheng grinds his teeth and tightens his grip on Sandu as he’s forced to acknowledge that he understands what Lan Wangji was really conveying even through a single syllable - that he recognizes that he had done what he felt he had needed to do to protect the innocents that were his responsibility, and yet there’s still a note of judgement in his voice that puts Jiang Cheng’s hackles up.

“But?” he prompts through his teeth.

“Disposing of Wei Ying’s notes out of anger that they were being misused by others was unnecessary and self-serving.”

“Well they’re gone anyway and all your disapproval of my methods isn’t going to bring them back.”

Lan Wangji stops all at once and Jiang Cheng walks on a few steps ahead before he realizes and stops as well, turning back to face him with a scowl.

“What?”

“Illusion.” Lan Wangji turns to run his fingertips along the wall to his left, moving slowly until the wall swallows them up. He withdraws to sketch another marking talisman and leaves it on the wall before stepping forward into the illusion, leaving Jiang Cheng to scramble after him in the dark, guided only by the blue talisman.

“Stop doing that!” he blusters as soon as he gets through. “It’s fucking dark in here and you have the light!”

“Mn.”

“And stop doing that!!” he outright shouts at Lan Wangji and his stupid fucking nothingness. He’s as blank and icy as ever and Jiang Cheng suddenly realizes that he has officially had it. “What is your fucking problem?! You said it yourself that we’ve worked together before, we fought together during the Sunshot Campaign, what’s so different now?!”

Jiang Cheng finally goes quiet as Lan Wangji’s expression..shifts. Outwardly, he doesn’t really seem to change that much, especially not in the uncertain light of the talisman. But there’s something about his bearing, his presence that changes and it’s only then that Jiang Cheng realizes that what he’s been faced with so far is Lan Wangji’s distant disapproval. What he’s looking at now is..anger. The sort of anger that has given Lan Wangji as fearsome of a reputation in some circles as Jiang Cheng has earned for himself.

He refuses to back down as Lan Wangji practically stalks closer, each step precise and deliberate until he’s right in front of him, glaring from under furrowed brows and looking down his nose at him in a way Jiang Cheng viscerally hates.

“You killed Wei Ying.”

It’s delivered utterly flat, cutting and sharp at the edges. Through his teeth, through the proper Lan version of a snarl. It leaves Jiang Cheng speechless, floundering for a moment through the slice of it in his heart. It hurts as much as it has any time someone has dared to point it out to him - he thinks back to that day of Wei Wuxian’s reappearance in the mountains and the Lan kid who had reminded him he’d killed Wei Wuxian himself and he wonders suddenly just who it was who had taught the Lan juniors that part of the story. It had been common knowledge in the aftermath of the battle, but he realizes now that Lan Wangji, extremely influential and vital to the education of the next generation, has been holding that grudge close to his heart for twenty years. Who knows what else he’s taught them about that awful day.

“What?”

Now Lan Wangji really does snarl, lips pulled back over his teeth and nose wrinkled in disgust as he steps forward and Jiang Cheng takes an automatic step back only to be crowded back against the wall.

Lan Wangji was right - they’re more dangerous than anything in this cave could be, and Jiang Cheng very much doesn’t like getting that reminder when he’s apparently the prey.

“You killed my Wei Ying. You failed him.”

“ ‘Your Wei Ying’?!” he retorts as he finds his metaphorical footing again. “That was news to me when he suddenly popped back up, you know! You sure as fuck didn’t bother making that clear back when it could have helped him.”

It’s instantly clear that he struck a nerve and he presses the advantage as something shutters in Lan Wangji’s furious glare.

“You want to talk about who failed him? You didn’t manage to protect him either! You hid in your mountain and you Lan thought you were above the whole world, and by the time you realized what was happening it was too late to protect him!”

“I know.”

The admission draws Jiang Cheng up short and at least some of his anger bleeds out of him as Lan Wangji’s glare fades a little further and he drops his eyes down somewhere around his shoulder, though he’s still got him crowded up against the wall and a glance down shows that Bichen is half out of her sheath.

“You know?”

“I have discussed it with Wei Ying in detail. He has forgiven me.”

“He’s forgiven me too!”

Lan Wangji’s gaze darts up to meet his again, ice cold but no longer distant - this cold judgement is now very personal. Jiang Cheng is chagrined to realize he already misses the detached, uncaring attitude of mere minutes ago.

“He has forgiven you. I will never.”

Jiang Cheng takes a deep breath in when Lan Wangji steps back to give him his space again, and if it shakes a little then that’s his business alone.

He heard the rumors back then. That Lan Wangji had killed to protect the Burial Mounds. Their paths had crossed many times over the years in their dual pursuit of hints and rumors of demonic cultivation, of whispers of the Yiling Laozu returned as a vengeful spirit, or reincarnated, or miraculously alive and gathering disciples. He had assumed then that their goal had been the same, but now he wonders if when he had been seeking to squash any evidence of his brother’s work, Lan Wangji had been chasing it in the hopes of finding more. Finding truth in the rumors. Finding Wei Wuxian.

He can admit to himself, deep down in the private spaces left inside of him that no one is allowed to see, that he had been disappointed each time the rumors had proven to be fake, or each time a new demonic cultivator was nothing but a cheap knockoff of Wei Wuxian using scraps of his notes to try to chase the full scope of the power he had developed. He had been angry with himself - furious, even - for that disappointment, but that didn’t make it any less real. All those years of searching, hunting, and in the end it had gotten him..nothing.

It was Lan Wangji who had won in the end. Wei Wuxian lives with him in Cloud Recesses. He visits Lotus Pier now that they’ve repaired at least the bulk of the damage to their relationship over the years since Wei Wuxian’s and Lan Wangji’s wedding following the revelation of Jin Guangyao’s plotting. Sometimes he stays for months on end, treating Lotus Pier as his home and returning to Cloud Recesses for short visits. But in the end he always returns to Gusu. To his husband.

He always leaves Lotus Pier - and her master - behind.

“Well, you won in the end anyway,” he says now into the loaded silence around them. He refuses to look at Lan Wangji as he steps away from the wall and continues along the path, lost in thought. “He chose you and Cloud Recesses over coming home when everything was over. Congratulations.”

Lan Wangji is silent at his side for quite some time as they walk, and Jiang Cheng doesn’t bother trying to break the quiet this time. They continue this way for a while, communicating with gestures when they find another illusion, and then yet another. It’s as they’re walking through the tunnel behind this fifth false wall of the night that Lan Wangji finally speaks.

“He longs for Lotus Pier.”

Jiang Cheng scoffs and tightens his grip around Sandu. “Well no one’s stopping him from coming home.”

“You misunderstand.”

“Speak plainly then, who can know what you mean when you hardly say anything?”

The judgemental silence that follows makes him grind his teeth even though he doesn’t know quite what he’s being judged for.

“He longs for the Lotus Pier that no longer exists but for in his heart and his memory.”

Jiang Cheng has to stop in his tracks at that and take a deep breath in, hold it, let it out slowly. His grip on Sandu doesn’t loosen, but some of the tension in his shoulders does as they slump ever so slightly under the weight of his heavy silk robes - robes befitting his status. He hardly notices that weight anymore, he’s had far too many years of carrying it, but sometimes it feels like he’ll be crushed under the burden of them.

“We rebuilt it using the old builders’ plans. It’s nearly identical to what it was before.”

“You are aware that is not the point.”

“Enlighten me then, oh great Hanguang-jun.”

The next silence feels..considering, and Jiang Cheng spares a thought to be dismayed that he’s learning how to read Lan Wangji’s many silences, whether he wants to or not (he doesn’t). He hates it when Wei Wuxian is right, and in this moment he’s forcefully reminded of how many times his brother has asserted that it’s possible to read Lan Wangji as easily as anyone else if one only knows what to look for. Jiang Cheng has never been interested in learning what to look for himself, but it seems he’s going to anyway.

“Wei Ying lives life in each moment. It is unusual for him to dwell in the past unless forced to. He is my opposite. I understand well the pain in his eyes when he returns from Lotus Pier. He is unsettled by the lack of familiar faces, the easy happiness of the past, and by the reminders that time has been cruel in its passing.”

Jiang Cheng’s mouth drops open but he hastily shuts it again when Lan Wangji looks at him, eyes once again unreadable.

“I believe if he could somehow find a way to travel through time and return to when the Lotus Pier of your childhood was the only home he knew, he would. If he could return to when you and Jiang Yanli were his world, he would. The knowledge that this version of Lotus Pier is lost to him for good is not an easy burden to bear, and each visit is a reminder of his aches.”

“Stop.” Jiang Cheng turns his head in an attempt to hide that his eyes are suddenly stinging and his throat tight. It’s useless to hide, he knows, but his pride won’t allow him to cry in front of Lan Wangji, not like this. “You think he’s the only one who feels that way? I live there. I live it every single fucking day.”

“Then you understand.” Jiang Cheng says nothing in reply. It’s not really a question - they both know that he does. He wouldn’t have been so determined to remake Lotus Pier so exactly if he didn’t. “Do you begrudge him his attempt to live without this pain?”

“Yes!”

“Then you are hurting him further.”

Jiang Cheng musters up a glare through the sting of his sorrow, but he’s not sure how effective it is considering his eyes are still fighting desperately to shed their tears. Either way, Lan Wangji meets his glare with something that looks frustratingly like understanding. He doesn’t want Lan Wangji to understand him. He wants to argue with him, fight with him, force him to admit that for all their opposites they’re also fundamentally similar in one way that matters more than anything else -

They love Wei Wuxian.

It takes on different flavors, different appearances, but the fact remains that they love him down to their bones.

“Do you know why Wen Zhuliu was able to destroy my core?” he suddenly asks. If Lan Wangji is surprised by the change in subject he doesn’t show it. He simply shakes his head after a moment of consideration. “We were running, we were hiding, but Wei Wuxian left to get medicine for jie, she had gotten a fever after our parents...after everything. He told me to stay put in our room at the inn, but I didn’t. I saw Wen soldiers out in the street, they were looking for us and they spotted him, they were going to drag him away as soon as they realized who he was. I couldn’t...I let them catch me instead. They took me instead.”

His deepest secret. Something he hasn’t even told Wei Wuxian in all their talks over the last few years, and he, for some reason, has decided to tell fucking Lan Wangji, of all people. It is, he supposes, the last defense he feels he has. He loves his brother. He sacrificed his life for him. It’s not his fault that it didn’t stick, that Wei Wuxian would rip his very soul apart with his own two hands if he thought it would protect the people he cares about.

“He was never supposed to lose his. None of this was ever supposed to happen,” he finishes, unable to raise his voice above a crackling whisper. “I never meant to hurt him.”

Silence falls again, but for the first time tonight it feels...almost comfortable. Not quite companionable, but it’s not anything else really either. It simply is, the weight of the moment and his admission too heavy to cheapen with words.

He starts walking again when he feels capable of putting one foot in front of the other and Lan Wangji walks beside him. They go on through another tunnel of the cave that looks much the same as the others, and Jiang Cheng doesn’t even care if they’re lost, if they’re going in circles, if they’re not doing much of anything at all. It’s nice to just walk, to move, to not be alone with his thoughts in the dark as he has been far too many times over the years.

“You know Sizhui,” Lan Wangji says after a while of this, and Jiang Cheng snorts without much amusement.

“The polite kid who always talks for you like I don’t know you well enough to know you’re telling me to go fuck myself in your head? Yeah.”

“Mn. He is my son.”

That brings Jiang Cheng up short again and though he doesn’t stop walking he does stumble a bit and turn a shocked glare on Lan Wangji, still walking blithely along.

“Your son?!”

“Mn. His existence was kept quiet outside of Cloud Recesses. It is my understanding that outside of the Sect he is now known as an inner family disciple, but it is suspected he is a cousin.”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“That is intentional, for his safety.”

“Why for his safety? Is being your kid that dangerous? When did you even...have a kid? With who?”

The glare Lan Wangji gives him out of the corner of his eye can only be described as ‘scathing’ and Jiang Cheng will admit that he kind of admires it. Envies it, really. It’s a pretty good glare.

“I adopted him. He was Wei Ying’s before he was mine.”

Jiang Cheng stares blankly ahead again as he tries to reconcile that, come to terms with it. All at once, he thinks back to the single time he had been to the Burial Mounds when it had still been a safe haven for the Wens. When a bright-eyed child had clung to his leg, and Wei Wuxian had swooped in to pick him up, to hold him and talk to him like a parent, to scold him with a smile on his lips and offer him gentle affection before sending him on his way.

He thinks about Lan Wangji defending the Burial Mounds from the cultivators who had wanted to sack the place after Wei Wuxian’s death, and he thinks about the Wens who had sacrificed themselves at Jinlintai.

He thinks about Jin Guangshan bragging about wiping out the remaining Wens in one fell swoop, and how if he was drunk enough, if the right person asked him to tell the story, he would boast that he had made sure that every last person had accounted for the crimes of their family. In his accounts, though, there had never been mention of a child - and his retellings had been painfully detailed.

“He’s that kid from the Burial Mounds. A-Yuan,” he whispers with dawning horror. “He’s Wen Yuan?!”

“Mn. Should you reveal his identity, no one will find your body to put it to rest.”

That makes Jiang Cheng snort again and this time he actually is a little amused. “Threats, Hanguang-jun? Not terribly righteous of you.”

“Without Wei Ying, A-Yuan was the only reason I could find to continue living. I would kill without hesitation for him, for Wei Ying.”

“You already have,” Jiang Cheng points out - everyone knows what had happened when Lan Wangji had defended the Burial Mounds, and Jiang Cheng at least is aware that Lan Wangji had also killed at Nightless City. He had seen him protecting Wei Wuxian, killing any cultivators who tried to get near enough to stop Wei Wuxian from playing that damned flute of his, to stop him from killing more and more of their own. He wonders how many people now, if any, know that some of the deaths from that night that have been laid at Wei Wuxian’s feet rightfully belong at Lan Wangji’s.

“Mn. I have.”

“And you know if Wei Wuxian could hear us talking about...all of this, he’d tell us both that he didn’t ask us to, that he doesn’t deserve all of this.”

“Yes.”

Jiang Cheng sighs and shakes his head, irritated with his brother and his self-sacrificing tendencies even now, all these years later because he just never fucking learns.

“Does it really hurt him to come to Lotus Pier?”

“It saddens him, but there is happiness as well. He was afraid of losing you as well even though you both live. He is relieved he has not. It is..complicated.”

“That’s an understatement,” Jiang Cheng mutters under his breath, but he knows Lan Wangji hears him anyway. They continue in another silence, and a few minutes later Jiang Cheng finds another illusion. “What the hell is going on in this cave?” he finally asks, exasperated once they’re on the other side of it in yet another identical tunnel.

Lan Wangji doesn’t answer, he merely keeps walking forward and Jiang Cheng is forced to follow him with a scowl firmly fixed on his face.

“I will never forgive you for killing Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji says into the quiet. “However, it saddens him to feel that he must consistently choose between us. I will not make him choose any longer.”

“You were complicit in it too, you can’t keep pinning this just on me you know!”

“I will do what I will. However, you are my brother-in-law, and you have given Wei Ying happiness in this life.”

“Yeah well I hate you too, but I guess there’s not much I can do about it either since the idiot married you.”

“Indeed. A truce, then.”

“Fine. Truce.”

Jiang Cheng glances sideways at Lan Wangji to find him looking at him similarly out of the corner of his eye, and after a moment the corner of his mouth twitches into the barest hint of a smirk.

“What?”

“You should hunt with Wei Ying more often,” he replies and before Jiang Cheng asks him what he means, he stops to sketch another talisman in the air, this one a bright blood-red, and when he releases it there’s the sensation of a pressure he hadn’t even noticed in the air releasing and he works his jaw to pop his ears as he looks around only to realize that they’re back in the room they had started in. And on the wall where he had spotted the first illusion there are a series of marks glowing blue, all in a line one right after the other - the markers for each false wall they had passed through.

“What the fuck?”

“Awwww Lan Zhan! No fun, he would’ve kept going for hours,” Wei Wuxian suddenly pouts and Jiang Cheng whirls around to find his brother leaning insolently against the wall where the entrance to the cave had been sealed - and is sealed no longer. He looks past his brother’s shoulder to find that the entrance is once again open to the air beyond it, the smell of their campfire at the entrance filtering into the space along with the sound of the juniors from their sects laughing and chatting, relaxing after their hunt earlier in the evening.

“Mn.”

“Wei Wuxian!”

The man in question dances away from his lunge with a laugh that rings off the stone around them.

“A-Cheng!!!” he sing-songs, drawing the sound out as he darts over to hide behind his husband standing still in the center of the room. “Did you like my illusion? I’ve been practicing. Lan Zhan didn’t you tell him it was an experiment?”

“He did not ask.”

“Yes I fucking did!!!” Jiang Cheng shouts and he makes another grab for Wei Wuxian, fully intending to yank him into a headlock at least, but he’s stopped by Bichen held across his path and Lan Wangji raising an admonishing eyebrow at him.

“You asked what was happening. The answer was ‘illusions’, too obvious to bother with. You did not ask whose, or for what purpose.”

“I hate you both,” Jiang Cheng snaps because that’s a Wei Wuxian-style answer if he’s ever heard one, just..Lan-ified. He refuses to think about the possibility that those two are more suited to each other than anyone might suspect and instead he turns to stomp over to the entrance with the intention to go pilfer alcohol from Wei Wuxian’s stash. He deserves it after being forced to have an emotional conversation with Lan Wangji, of all people.

The acoustics of the cave mean that the voices behind him reach his ears even as he walks up the tunnel that leads to the forest outside.

“Did you have a good talk with him, Lan Zhan?”

“Mn.”

“Thank you.”

“No need.”

“Aiyah I know, but thank you anyway. The two people I love most in the world should get along.”

“A-Yuan and I get along very well.”

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian laughs and thankfully Jiang Cheng steps free of the tunnel into the clearing just beyond it before he has to hear any more, his ears and heart burning with the knowledge that Wei Wuxian loves him. That he finally has his brother back, even if it’s in a way he would have never chosen for them.

“Jiang-zhongzhu?” a mild voice asks, too gentle to startle, and he turns his head to find Lan Sizhui waiting nearby, a nervous expression on his sweet features, still just a little round with boyhood though it will likely only be another year or two before he loses all trace of baby fat whatsoever and matures into the man he’s quickly becoming along with the rest of his generation.

He meets the boy’s wide, earnest eyes and finds his defenses crumbling as he sees in him the boy who had hugged his leg and looked up at him with a curious little smile right in the middle of the misery of the Burial Mounds. He sighs heavily and turns his whole body to face him properly, his hands on his hips as he stares him down. To his credit, Lan Sizhui doesn’t cower or fall back at all, he simply waits patiently for Jiang Cheng to speak his mind.

“You might as well call me Jiujiu,” he harrumphs and Lan Sizhui’s expression falls open in surprise (and seriously, this kid was raised by Lan Wangji? He doesn’t see it.) “What? My stupid brother is your diedie isn’t he? You don’t have to, but..You can. If you’d like to.”

“Alright. Jiujiu,” Lan Sizhui replies, smiling and clearly pleased. The quiet moment is broken almost immediately by - who else - Wei Wuxian.

“DIDI!!!” he shouts, startling a nearby flock of birds, and it’s all the warning he gets before Wei Wuxian practically throws himself at him to cling to his side. “I knew you cared! Now you have to buy him presents for all his important occasions and we’ll bring him to Lotus Pier for New Year’s and -”

“Get off me!” Jiang Cheng growls as he shoves at Wei Wuxian without much success.

In the midst of their tousle, neither of them notice Lan Wangji drifting to Lan Sizhui’s side to press a comforting hand to his shoulder and gently guide him back in the direction of the camp, a rare, pleased little smile on his lips.

[novantinuum]

Hi, I was just wondering if you had ever thought about what would have happened in your story "Hollowed Moon" if you had continued it. I always thought it was such an interesting setup that could have gone in so many different directions. And there really aren't other stories focusing on Stevonnie and Spinel, so it was unique!

Hiya!

So, I do have some half-written, half-plotted out material to share. I gave this story some consideration the other day, and came to the decision that I don't have the desire to finish it out, alas- I have far too many other active WIPs to add it to the list. There's a few good reasons why I discontinued it, anyways... intimidation over the huge surge of attention it was getting back in 2019, some rude comments from overzealous Spinel fans, (I know everyone isn't like this, but a certain segment of the Spinel side of the SU fandom kinda burned me over time, hhh), and a future chapter containing a sensitive topic that I wasn't in a good headspace to write about at the time.

But! Anyways! Below the cut is all the existing material I have for Hollowed Moon past chapter 14, consisting of a mixture of descriptions, sketchy dialogue, and prose. It honestly feels nice to finally be able to put this story to an official rest.

__

Chapter 15

“I... I saw her.”

“Who-?”

“I saw Pink Diamond. I saw you, in this exact garden, in a dream. I- it was like I was experiencing everything through her. She explained your game, tapped your nose and told you to smile, then warped away—“

“That’s it, that’s what happened, almost exactly! But how could you even know that, I never—“

“I don’t know,” they blurt out. “I have empathic abilities, and sometimes that makes dreaming a little weird, but I have no idea how or why I saw any of this.”

[Pause for Stevonnie to think]

“Spinel, I’m so, so sorry,” they whisper brokenly. “But I think... she left you here.”

“What...?”

“She said she’d return, but before she warped away she whispered goodbye, like she didn’t actually intend to make good on that promise. She was lying to you,” they choke out, voice thick.

“No. No,” she says in clear denial, “no she’s not. She can’t be! She told me she’d come back! I can wait! I just have to wait—“

“But she’s not! She... she can’t, because Pink Diamond is gone. She- she was shattered, Spinel. Five thousand years ago, on the Earth. I- I should’ve told you this from the beginning, and I didn’t, and I- I’m so, so sorry—! But she left you behind, and now she’s never coming back.”

[Silence. Tears brim in Spinel’s eyes. Her eyes grow dark, pained, and then she glares at Stevonnie with such venom it almost knocks them backwards in alarm. ]

“NO!” she screams, tears streaming down her faded pink cheeks.

[She tears her feet up from the roots and runs away, using her arms like an orangutan to vault herself forward super fast so Stevonnie can’t catch her.]

___

Chapter 16

AN: Content warning for self-shattering attempt. Part of the reason why I had to stop writing this story at the time. I considered pushing the plot another way, but it didn't feel authentic to how I believed this scenario would play out for Spinel when she didn't have a direct target for her anger. Without someone to actively be jealous and upset AT, I could only imagine her breaking inwards instead of outwards, feeling that she's utterly failed in her life's purpose. Nothing more than a description for this chapter... and it'd be a short one.

[When Stevonnie finds her, she’s smashing her fists against her gem in her sheer anguish. She’s already cracked it. She’s glitching. It looks terribly painful. She’s about to strike her gem again when Stevonnie intervenes.]

___

Chapter 17

[Post timely intervention. Spinel is still cracked at this moment, though... her form glitching as she cries.]

“I was... her best friend,” she cries, fat, glistening tears streaming down her cheeks. “I was supposed to make her happy! Why wasn’t she happy? Why didn’t she come back?“

[Spinel reasoning that maybe if Pink came back for her, she wouldn’t have been shattered in the first place]

“What did I do wrong?” she whispers hoarsely, gazing pleadingly into Stevonnie’s eyes. “Wha- what am I doing? Why do I wanna hurt myself so badly?”

“Shh, now,” they reply, tears of their own brimming at the crease of their eyes, and pull Spinel’s head to their chest. “I’ve got you...”

___

Chapter 18

They know their throat is tight, and their voice scratchy. They know they’ve never sung this song in front of another living being, since it’s something personal they composed alone on one of their late nights back on Earth, thinking about all the difficult days Steven and Connie have had to face over the months. Pair this with their active crying, and there’s no way their singing will be anything pretty.

But pretty doesn’t matter right now.

Stevonnie opens their lips, and— clutching the broken hearted Gem close, rhythmically rocking with her back and forth— lets the wandering melody emerge from within.

“I guess I have to face That in this awful place I shouldn’t show a trace Of doubt...”

“But pulled against the grain I feel a little pain That I would rather do Without...”

“I’d rather be Free, free Free...”

[Hoarse, Spinel starts singing with them.]

“I’d rather be Free, free Free...”

“Free, free Free...”

“From here...”

[Stevonnie holds her tight while crying, their tears healing it back up.]

___

Chapter 19

AN: Don't have anything but a single bit of dialogue in this chapter note- I'm assuming I intended it as being a good few hours after the events of chapters 16-18... when Spinel has calmed down a little and has a moment to reflect on the upsetting news she's just received.

“I think... I always knew,” she says, voice hoarse. “In a way. It was so obvious how she felt about me.

___

Chapter ?

AN: From here on out, the plot hasn't been split into individual chapters.

[At some point shortly after chapter 19, Lars and his crew locate Stevonnie in the garden, and pick them and Spinel up. The next few bits of dialogue and description takes place on the ship.]

Rutile twins: “I haven’t heard of Spinels being produced in over five millennia.” “Me neither!”

Rhodonite: “Yeah, I heard they stopped making them entirely after the rebellion on Pink’s colony.”

[A bit of overwhelming conversation later, no one really noticing Spinel's conflicted emotional response to so many Gems hovering around her at once.]

Padparadscha: “I predict that you’re both going to make Spinel feel very uncomfortable aboard this ship.”

Rhodonite: “I’m sorry, we don’t exactly meet new Gems every century.”

Rutile twins: “Yes!” “It’s just been us until we met our captain!”

Fluorite: “Our new huuuuman friend helped us escape the tunnels on Homeworld. Now... we’re slooowly making our way back... to Earth.”

Spinel: “Earth?? You’re going to Pink’s world? But why? I heard she... was shattered.”

___

[Spinel feeling a sense of kinship with the idea that there’s other Gems who didn’t serve their rightful purpose and are now escaping their life on Homeworld to be free of that. Because now, without her Diamond, since she was unable to keep her happy, she’s an Off Color too. She failed her given purpose same as them.]

[Discussion of Earth, and the rebellion, and how there’s Gems living free there. And how Pink’s colony was siphoning life away, and that’s what these Gems were fighting to protect. Stevonnie points out all the plants and wildlife that used to live in the garden, and asks her if she felt happier when it was around. Spinel says yes. Stevonnie says that this is what the Diamonds are destroying, with each lifeless colony they forge. Everywhere they go, dead wildlife lies in their wake.]

Spinel: “I... guess I never thought of it that way.”

[(Stevonnie adds...) And while they’re very sorry for the personal connection there, and can’t imagine how painful that must be, that’s why Pink Diamond was shattered.]

[Spinel is given an open choice... Lars gives the invitation to stay with him and the Off Colors, and Stevonnie offers for her to come with them back to Earth. It's not a hard decision for her in the end, though. She's always dreamed of seeing what was once Pink’s planet, ever since she heard the Diamonds bequeath it to her.]

___

Stevonnie: “Okay, so… before we go, I need to be honest with you about something." [deep breath] "I’m actually a fusion of two separate people who are close friends. You... know what fusion is, right?”

Spinel: “Duh, o’course! What, d’ya think I was made yesterday?”

[...]

Stevonnie: “But even with that, I can’t be together as me all the time. Steven and Connie, the two who come together to form me... they love hanging out with each other so much, but they also have their own lives! Other friends, other hobbies, their own families. They still talk when they’re apart, but they know it’s okay to do things alone, too. Do you know why I’m telling you this?”

Spinel: [shakes head no] “No...?”

Stevonnie: [sighs] “I understand you’ve been left behind. Believe me, I know how bad that feels. So the last thing I wanna do is make you think I’m doing that too.”

Spinel: “Y-you— you’re going away?” Stevonnie: “Unfusing, yes.” Spinel: “But Stevonnie, you—“ Stevonnie: “Spinel. No matter what, you are my friend. Steven and Connie consider you a friend, too. And my hope is that you’ll keep making a whole bunch more on Earth, so you’ll always have people around who know and love you. But that can’t always be me, okay?“

___

[At home... on Earth. There's a bit of a close call for Pearl when Spinel arrives, and recognizes her as Pink's second pearl. This is news for Garnet and Amethyst and Steven, the first of which had somewhat suspected that Pearl used to be in the diamonds' service, but never knew for sure. Pearl, of course... can't say much on this due to her gag order... not that anyone else knows about that yet... but does manage a very concise and PD=RQ free explanation about her past in Pink's court, and her transition towards being a Crystal Gem:]

Pearl: “Rose Quartz set me free, and I’ve been a part of the rebellion ever since.”

___

[At some point between the last scene and the next, mention how Spinel had a bit of a relapse... she ended up poofing herself, and reformed differently. A little bit closer to the smudged mascara and frayed pigtails look of canon, but no rotated heart. Unlike in canon, she has a solid support system amongst the Crystal Gems, and she's working hard to recover from the heartbreak of Pink's abandonment.]

___

[Final scene is set post A Single Pale Rose. Steven and Connie fuse, and Stevonnie goes to find Spinel to check in on how she's taking the news. The final line of the fic is as follows:]

Spinel: “I know you’re not her, not really. And I know you’ll always be a better person than she ever was. But in some silly cyclical way... back in that garden... it’s almost like Pink came back for me after all.”

[kitty0boy]

So it’s like 2 am rn and I’m tired but can’t sleep so I wrote this down quickly. It’s a little Marichat fic that probably won’t be very good because I’m running on like 5 hours of sleep. I’ll probably fix spelling mistakes tomorrow or even just delete this but for now, enjoy.

—————————

The class decided to have a picnic to celebrate their last year at Francois DuPont high school. They were about 17 now, some were 18. Everyone lounged around, eating pastries, talking about their first day back from summer and just genuinely having a good time. Unfortunately Adrien’s father had instructed him to go home so while he packed his belongings, he listened to his friends conversations. That was when he saw a younger girl run up to Lila.

Now Adrien knew he had a lot of fans, as Chat and as himself. The older and more, how you say, well defined he became, the more fans he acquired. Though when it came to Chat, being a fangirl was much more dangerous. At one point it got so bad that Ladybug had to schedule an interview with the Ladyblog telling them to stay away during akuma attacks. They would quite literally, chase after Chat while he was being chased after by an akuma. He even saw one of them pretend to be hurt so he would swoop in and save them. Yeah very dangerous stuff. Which is why it was quite a scared to hear that Lila was a fan.

“Of course I’m a fan of his, in fact, I’m quite close with one of Paris’s superheroes.” She spoke, hiding the lying tone to her voice. As irritating as she was, he had to admit she was good. “Really?” The girl squealed. She was on the younger side, maybe 13 or 14, about his age when he first got his Miraculous. “Oh leaving so soon Adrien?” She said in a sickeningly sweet voice. “Yeah, my father again.” He replied, trying to sound friendly. “I can walk you home if you like! I wanted to speak with Mr. Agreste anyways. About our up coming photo shoot.” Damn it, he’d almost forgotten about that. He hated shoots with Lila. Adrien had always liked physical affection, but with her it was almost unbearable. “No that’s ok, I can walk him.” Marinette offered, stepping in to shield him from the object of his discomfort. And what a beautiful shield she was.

Her days of pigtails were over, instead she would wear her hair in different styles everyday. Today was a half up half down style with space buns, very reminiscent of her fight as Multimouse. She has also settled for a mint green t-shirt and a black skirt which clearly paid homage to his superhero self. It was nearly impossible to wipe the Cheshire grin off his face as she strode over, picnic basket in hand. He was visiting her while she finished the little paw prints along the hem of the skirt, but of course she wouldn’t know that. “Wow miss, I really like your outfit! Where’d you get it?” The girl squeaked rushing over. Her eyes shining with pure joy. “Oh why thank you, I actually made it myself.” She curtsied, very adorably in his opinion. “Wow that’s so cool! Could you make me one?” If she got anymore excited she would float into space. “You know, I can get Chat to stop by if you wanted.” Lila chimed in, drawing the girls attention back to her. “Really?” She turned and ran towards her new favourite person. “Of course I can, my boyfriend always seems to find me.” She faked a gasp and quickly covered her mouth with her hand. “Whoops.” She exhaled. The class gasped. That was what she was looking for.

“You’re dating Chat Noir Lila?” Marinette snickered, silencing them. It was clear that Lila had more influence over the class now. As much as they all loved Marinette, Lila had successfully made herself more interesting. “Yes I am, but I wasn’t supposed to say that. Oh no, I’m going to get into so much trouble.” She delicately placed her fists over her chest for added effect. Marinette burst out laughing and that’s when Adrien slowly started to back away unnoticed by his friends.

He ran and ducked into an alley way making sure he wasn’t followed. “Oh come on kid, I didn’t even get anything from the picnic. You should have at least slipped me something.” Plagg groaned. “I will after I go sort this mess out, it’s dangerous if people think Lila is dating me, she could be targeted by Hawkmoth.” He rationalized. “Big deal, if she gets akumatized we can just purify her no problem.” “Uh yeah Plagg it is a big deal. What if Hawkmoth kidnaps her instead, as much as I don’t like her I don’t want anyone to get hurt because of me.” “Well kid if she gets kidnapped because she lied about dating you it’s not your fault is it? Now can I at least finished eating?” He sighed, Plagg was right. If she got kidnapped now she only had herself to blame. An idea did pop into his head. Maybe if she was proven wrong, she might stop saying things like that, and he knew the purrfect purrincess to help him achieve his goal. “Later, Plagg Claws Out!” A flash of green later and there’s stood Chat Noir, in all his leather-clad glory. Hopping onto the roof, he made to move towards them when the sound of shouting caught his attention.

“Do you realized how dangerous it is to even say things like that!” Marinette squeaked, really living up to her super identity and the mysterious multimouse. “You can’t just tell people you’re dating superheroes for attention Lila, you’re safety could be at risk.” She pointed, Lila seemed to be unphased but there was something about her posture that showed she was guilty and ticked off. “I already told you I didn’t mean to let it slip, I have a rare condition c-“ “called Liars Luny or something like that right?” Marinette interrupted. He had to hold back a laugh at her clever remark. “Marinette that was incredibly rude.” Rose intervened, and one by one everyone turned their faces to Marinette, a glared placed on almost all of them. All but Nino and Alya, who had long discovered Lila’s manipulative ways. Though they were still afraid to say anything about it, they didn’t want her to get akumatized after all.

“Look Marinette, if you’re jealous just say so, I won’t be mad. I’m sure a lot of other women would love to get their hands on my sweet kitten. I mean, considering your outfit it’s pretty obvious you have a crush on him.” You know, for a compulsive liar, Lila seemed to be good at getting the truth out of others. Marinette’s face turned pink and her fists began to clench. Her back stiffened up too, was she really jealous? Or was it just his imagination. Maybe he hoped she was, he had fancied her for a while now but he never made a move. Suddenly his classmates were surrounding her and she looked like she was on the verge of tears.

His anger from earlier started to rise to his chest as he let out a low growl and leapt off the roof. Thankfully, his years as a model made him a fairly decent actor as well.

“Fancy seeing you here my purrincess.” He purred walking over to the group. “You look radiant as always.” Lila stiffened but quickly tried to look relaxed as she confidently strode towards him. “It’s nice to see you here too kitten, couldn’t stay away from me I see.” She smiled, it almost looked genuine. It didn’t take long for her possi of classmates to follow behind, leaving Marinette standing there clearly distraught, he growled again as a tear slid down her cheek. Keeping it cool, he cooked up a response. “Umm, I’m sorry but do I know you?” He said in mock confusion. The class gasped slightly, “Of course you know me, didn’t you just call me your princess?” Lila chimed, placing a hand on his shoulder. “No. I have no idea who you are, I was talking to the lovely lady in green and black. She is radiant isn’t she, and she looks fantastic in my colours.” He replied cooly. Before anyone had time to react he ran through the crowd and picked up Marinette, twirling her in a circle. She giggled slightly, her throat a little strained. She placed her forearms on his shoulders, intertwining her fingers behind his head as he slowly lowered her to the ground. “What’s wrong love?” He reached up, gently brushing a tear from her cheek. She got the hint to play along. “Nothing I’m all good kitty.” She smiled genuinely and he smiled back. Ignoring the eyes of everyone around them. He held up his arm and gestures to her skirt. “Do you see all of these little paw prints? She sewed them all herself! It took her 4 hours too, I almost couldn’t draw her attention away from the stitching.” She blushed and buried her face in his shoulder, oh mon dieu she was so cute. “And these shoes,” he scooped her up bridal style and she laughed. “See the little toe beans, how adorable.” The girls squealed and ran over to admire her craftsman ship while the boys kept glaring daggers at Ms. Lie-la. “Ok now stand back everyone! We have to show you how it spins.” Marinette cocked and eyebrow at him. “How it spins? Excuse me sir but my pronouns are she/her.” He chuckled before pinching the black fabric of her skirt. “No I mean this, you did wear shorts today did you not?” “I did.” She confirmed. “Good,” he subtly winked at her before continuing, a little louder than necessary, “Wouldn’t want everyone else seeing what’s mine now would we.” Before she could register his words he held a hand above her head and gave her a little twirl, her skirt flowing beautifully in the wind. “See what’d I tell you? Absolutely beautiful.” He turned and smiled down at her, she blushed back up at him. Dieu, he could happily die drowning in her eyes. The two of them seemed to be in a world of their own, just looking at each other.

Until a voice snapped them back to reality. “I can’t believe you! You filthy cheater!” As well as a liar, Lila was a good actor. Tears streaming down her cheeks, arms straighten and hands curled into fists. He rolled his eyes before forcing them to look at a more revolting sight. “Like I said miss, I have no idea who-“ he paused “Oh wait I remember you! You were the liar that nearly got Marinette expelled weren’t you! The one who tried to intervene when Onii-chan was akumatized just because you disliked Ladybug.” He didn’t mean to get so angry but he couldn’t hide it anymore. His hand gripped Marinette’s shoulder a little more tightly than he would have liked but she wasn’t hurt by it. Everyone gasped on cue and turned to Lila who stood there pale. Karma is a bitch isn’t it? In his fury he barely registered Marinette’s hand on his arms. “Come on Chat, let’s get out of here.” She whispered. Coaxing him back to the present. “Yeah ok, I’m sure your friends will deal with her.” She smiled at her classmates who had turned towards Lila with furious looks on their faces. “Did you have a place in mind mousinette.” She giggled at that. “Well there’s always that spot you took me to the first time you came to visit, remember where it is?” She smiled. “I don’t think I would forget that.” He turned towards the crowd. “Welp, me and the princess will be taking our leave now, though I did enjoy seeing you all again.” Then he stooped down to pick her up bridal style as she giggled. For good measure he placed a light kiss to her temple before racing off towards that lovely spot they had just discussed.

“WHAT THE F***.” The fangirl screamed after all the confusion.

———————————

So it’s been a month or two since I first posted this and I decided to clean it up a bit and add a few more details to it. Not that this is suddenly going to blow up but I do like the impurrovement (hehe I have puns for days). So yes, if by some miracle you are reading this, I hope you enjoyed!

[onthecrosslook]

Three Acts

Note: Fuck it, I’m just going to post this now. @call-me-moo.

Act Three

I dial Mary’s number on my dying mobile. “Do c...come in. It’s a little cramped…I must warn you.”

I’m sitting on a rickety old chair in an abandoned building. No, not even a building- a mere façade.

Just like Mary.

I shake away the thought and concentrate. I don’t have long before I start bleeding through the stitches. Every passing minute is crucial to both the plan and my survival.

I’ve already gotten through the bulk of the phone call with Mary. It’s mostly filler to keep her from storming inside and shooting me on sight, and it’s working so far.

Like scenes from a play...

She’ll be coming inside soon, judging from her initial distance from the building. It won’t be long now.

I can hear her breathing quicken over the line as my question grows more and more personal. “What do you want, Sherlock?” she growls, her voice lower than I’ve ever heard it.

“Mary Morstan...stillborn in 1972. Thought it’d be...a-awfully clever, taking her name like that,” I say softly, clutching my chest with my free hand. “It’s why you don’t have any...f-friends from before...then.”

Common enough tactic.

Mary’s sharp laugh rings out. “You don’t sound very well, Sherlock. Perhaps we should get you to a hospital.” Her voice lowers. “Or a morgue.”

“How...how good of a shot are you?” I ask, biding my time with the questions. I need to stall. Answers can come later, hopefully with John’s assistance.

Even so…

I need to know.

I can almost hear her smirk from the other side of the line. “How badly do you want to find out? I’d be more than happy to demonstrate. I can see you’re right in front of me, it would only take a single pull of the-“

“If you’re such a good shot…” I take a few shaky breaths and continue to interrupt her, “…th-then...demonstrate. Unf-fortunately, I don’t have any l...live targets, forgive me. You’ll h-have to...settle for a coin.” I force a weak laugh that makes my stomach ache and my labouring lungs burn. “That is...i-if you can…”

The line crackles a bit on her end. “You think you can bait me, Sherlock? I thought you knew me better than that.”

Yes, Mary.

Hook, line, and sinker.

“I want to...know how good you are,” I say encouragingly. “Go on...the doctor’s wife must b-be...rather bored, by now...Because…” I gasp for a much-needed breath.

“Because what?” she snaps, frustrated, as she adjusts the leather strap of her heavy purse.

Added weight of the gun. Obviously unaccustomed to carrying it around. Is she still a good shot?

“Because...you’re a psychopath...and p-psychopaths get bored.” I groan into my coat collar in pain. At this rate, I don’t know how long I’ll be able to hold out.

“Ha,” she scoffs. “I’ll entertain you, Sherlock. God knows you can’t have much left in you, anyway.” Mary pulls out a fifty-pence piece from her purse and holds it aloft. She glances above, gauging the height of the ceiling with a critical eye, and flips the coin in the air. In one swift move, she aims the gun and fires. A metallic clank is heard, and she smirks triumphantly.

I hang up the phone with a flourish. “Impressive,” I whisper, the faintest smile on my face visible in the flickering light.

Mary turns to look at me, clearly startled. “You’re…standing. Then who...Ah. I see. A dummy? Fairly obvious trick, don’t you think?” She slides the coin over to me with the tip of her boot.

I lean over with a grunt and pick it up, pausing only to examine it. I straighten up, the stabbing pain making it harder to stand. My breathing is growing more and more erratic, but I choose to ignore it in favour of my deductions.

Ordinary fifty-pence coin, no obvious assistive modifications. Hole where the 0.38mm bullet penetrated is precisely in the center. Fifteen-plus years in the killing business, at least. She’s a remarkable shot, I’ll give her that.

Not good enough, though.

“Impressed?” she asks, not a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

“Spectacularly...accurate sh-shot, yet you...failed to place...a kill. Sentiment, or d-did you...not want to...blow y-your cover?” It’s a risk to taunt her so openly, but unfortunately a risk I must take.

“Neither. John wasn’t supposed to come save you. The doorframe creaked fairly loudly and that alerted him. You would have died if it hadn’t been for my damn recklessness,” Mary snarls, looking more angry at herself than anyone else. “It’s not a mistake I’ll make again.”

Wait-

She raises her gun to my forehead.

-this isn’t how it’s supposed to-

I hear a click and a loud shot.

When I open my eyes again, I see Mary crumpled on the floor, her chest weakly moving up and down as blood leaks from her body, filling spaces it shouldn’t be. I can hardly breathe from the shock of seeing her so suddenly vulnerable.

“You...d-don’t...you didn’t…h-have a...g-gun…” she chokes out. “H-how…?”

“Sorry,” I hear a bitter voice behind her say, and suddenly John is standing there, his gun pointed straight ahead, and it all makes sense. “Not that obvious a trick.”

“John- b-but-“ I stutter out, my mouth moving, but hardly any noise coming out.

How…how did he…?

Mary groans loudly, and I move to ask him again, thinking perhaps he didn’t hear me.

“J-John…”

“You. You don’t get to speak,” John hisses, before leaning down to Mary’s side. “Mary, I can still…”

“N-no…” she says softly, obviously straining to sit up. “It’s...t-too late, John. I...I suppose...n-now I know how...Sh-Sherlock f-felt...Ah-!” She cries out in anguish and lifts a shaking hand to John’s face.

He doesn’t push her hand away. “You’re a pathetic liar, Mary. You lied to me, you shot my best friend, you- you-“ He’s practically hyperventilating with anger now, each breath harder than the next. “You killed our baby.”

Mary is eerily silent for a moment, but she nods eventually. “I d-did...John...Will...w-will it matter...i-if I say...I-I’m sorry…?”

“No,” he says honestly. His face is more pained than I have ever seen, contorted with unspoken rage and agony. “You’ve destroyed it all, Mary. I will never forgive you.”

“P-please…” she begs, clinging onto his collar with an almost frightening desperation. “I c-can’t go...n-not like this...J-John…”

“You should have thought about that…” John swallows back a sob, “...before you shot Sherlock.”

Tears stream down her pale, stricken face. “I th-think I l-loved you...o-once...d-did you ever...l-love me...J-John…?”

“Once,” he says softly, closing his eyes for a moment. “Not anymore. Not since Sherlock came back, I think.”

I’m silent.

What could I possibly say…?

Her face grows sadder, if that’s possible. “I...c-could never...c-compare...not t-to…him…”

“I’m not gay,” he says with a weak smile, forcing a small chuckle.

“A-and...I’m...n-not an...a-assassin…” she gasps out with a laugh, pulling harder on his coat. “I...w-would have...n-never really...k-killed you, y-you know…?”

His face is grim. “I don’t know that, Mary. Because I don’t know you at all. I- I bet...I bet your name isn’t even Mary.”

“It’s n-not,” she admits, her grip beginning to fail. “Th-that- ...wh-what I just s-said…- was a lie...I w-would have…” she coughs out, dark blood trickling from the corners of her pink lips. “I w-would h-have...I w-would...b-because I’m s-selfish…”

He nods. “I didn’t believe you, anyway.”

“I e-even...w-wanted...R-Rosamund…” Mary’s trembling hand slips from his jacket.

“Mary…”

“R-Rosamund...f-far better...th-than...Sh-Sher...Sherlock…” Her breath hitches on my name, and her face tightens with the effort. “G-goodbye...b-both of you…”

“Mary,” John breathes. “D...don’t…”

“G-go b-back to B-Baker S-Street...J-John...And Sh-Sherlock…?” She turns her head slightly to look at me. “I-I’m...s-sorry…T-take c-care...of...J...John…”

Her eyes go glassy and dull as she quietly exhales for the last time. John looks numb as uses two fingers to gently push her eyelids shut. Pressing a final kiss to her clammy forehead, he abruptly stands up and snaps his fingers. “Sherlock. Let’s go,” he says, his tone deathly quiet and clipped.

“J-John…”

“I said...let’s go. There’s nothing left for us here.”

I open my mouth to speak, but no words come out. I’ve waited too long. I should have called someone. I should have called the hospital. I can almost hear John scolding me already- ‘Why do you never call the police?’

My vision goes blurry as my legs fail me. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go, but then again…this night has been full of surprises. Nothing short of dangerous encounters and yet another miraculous deus-ex-machina from John Watson.

Not dead. Not yet.

“Amb- ambulance…” I whisper hoarsely, before collapsing on the floor next to Mary’s cold, limp, unmoving body.

John rushes towards me, and I get a glimpse of her pale face as my eyes flutter shut. Her lips are slightly parted, almost upturned. She seems to be finally at rest. She doesn’t deserve it, but I don’t think I could think of a better way for her to exit this world. A brutal display of karma…

…And yet…

I feel my flat expression become a weak smile.

She looks...so peaceful...almost like she’s sleeping…

The End (?)

~

Act One linked below:

https://benaddicted-linfanuel.tumblr.com/post/656892650818011136/three-acts

Act Two linked below:

https://benaddicted-linfanuel.tumblr.com/post/656968775195934720/three-acts

Epilogue linked below:

https://benaddicted-linfanuel.tumblr.com/post/657054522939686912/three-acts

[suuho]

same suho anon! thank you so much for answering. i completely agree with everything you said. i also don’t want to come into your inbox to vent, but i think a lot of bunnyzens (myself included) feel a lot of underlying frustration when it comes to how suho is treated in the fandom sometimes, especially with the rampant solo stans & akgaes these days. it’s like people just…. forget about him? they drag him when he doesn’t meet their unfair expectations or when he’s not coddling the other members (like when dandanies dragged him for posting peaches on his IG story but not empathy…. he was only using social media rarely because he was still enlisted, but he still doesn’t owe anyone anything…. and i know he’s in a big group & doesn’t get to shine as much as others, but it’s become apparently clear how much he wants to make an impact on people with his artistry. he’s right in his fear of being forgotten & wanting to be remembered because the industry moves so incredibly quickly. i try not to care so much about views/streams because junmyeon said it doesn’t matter, but it still frustrates me sometimes.

yes, i very much hear you. i think it is very unfair how solos and akgaes treat him but it’s obviously because junmyeon, out of all members, really, is the most vocal about the we are one and the ot9 group agenda. so, he poses a direct threat to their member xy hates everyone in this group and should immediately go solo because these eight other men are envious of him (for his acting career (kyungsoo), the many records he has sold which only he’ll ever sell (baekhyun), the exposure he gets from producing and the videos he makes (chanyeol) etc. you name it.) agenda. which of course is utter bullshit because half the time their vague posts make absolutely no sense to people who aren’t on board with the same brainwashed narrative.

junmyeon, as the leader, poses the perfect target. he’s the one who’s currently having a solo comeback that he’s worked very hard for, his second at that, so obviously this is whom they focus on right now. even more so than usual. lmao, and don’t get me started on dandanies, they are the most miserable beings on earth. i was a dandanie before i ever got into exo but it never occurred to me to cancel the other members or act like kyungsoo hates his group so much? which is. hilarious, because kyungsoo and junmyeon love each other and it has nothing to do with instagram posts (why would junmyeon post on instagram when kyungsoo doesn’t have instagram and doesn’t need that exposure, and won’t see it anyway).

i get that it’s very frustrating, but as i mentioned before – junmyeon’s worth and value should not be measured by the amount of streams or clicks he gets, especially not his artistic value. he’s made a modern rock record, right from the get go that’s not a mold seen in kpop. i have seen people on here complaining about him showing up at a music show with a band, which is hysterical considering his performance was ten times better than those of any other group performing. they don’t consider it kpop enough. they don’t consider it rock enough. whatever. junmyeon knows that we love the work he invests into whatever he puts out and i think at this point, it’s obvious how much everyone loves the record and him. he was so happy at the fanmeet. he is so happy at every radio show and every signing, and i just wish these schedules were healthier but i digress, that’s a long story for an old issue …

anyways. i think it is very good for him and healthy that he has created a supportive and loving environment for himself and his work. and i just love the thought of the antis and solos absolutely dying whenever junmyeon mentions the other members or how much they love being exo, how much they hang out, etcetera. he loves them so much. he’s a good leader, a very good one and they can die mad about the fact that he’s one of the most talented artists this industry has ever seen; and that he keeps this group together.

and you too, anon. i hope you can enjoy junmyeon’s work without the pressure of solos or antis or stream numbers. for me, it’s a lovely, safe space to be in. and honestly, he just makes the music i enjoy the most out of all solos, i just love rock music.

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS | CHAPTER 5

Rating: Explicit.

‼��TW: Reader is EIGHTEEN! Recreational drug use, smoking and alcohol consumption, deeply internalised self-loathing, very questionable moral standards. Daddy kink taken half-seriously. BDSM themes in later chapters - explicit content will come with it's own TWs. FIRST PERSON POV.

Summary: You're Peter's classmate, a child of rich and famous but uncaring parents. Getting paired up for a lengthy project with the boy was an interesting turn of events and you don't know whether to feel blessed or cursed when you develop, seemingly, a perfectly normal, harmless crush on Tony Stark. Fueled by feelings of inadequacy and boredom, your life spirals out of control - and you're lucky your newfound friends are there to pick up the pieces even if you cannot find it in yourself to believe these amazing human (and not so human) beings voluntarily give you more than a fleeting glance and an offhanded thought. And they brought cake!

A/N: Revenge is sweet but a well-timed dick joke is sweeter. xoxo gossip girl. Please supervise one Bucky Barnes on the internet. Questionable music taste. Detention is the price we pay for justice. Bruce Banner is too precious for this world, too pure.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub ​ @mostly-marvel-musings @vozit​ @littlegasps​ @pilloclock​ @shereadsinquiet​ @downeyreads​ @hermione-grangers-wife​ @individualistfem​

Beta read by the lovely and patient @miscmarvelwritings ! 🎶🎵I love you biiitch ain't ever gonna stop loving you biiitch 🎵🎶

"Initiate phase one," I added a growly undertone to my whisper, holding my phone inconspicuously, as if I was making a simple phone call. There was no answer but I didn't expect one: I was testing the voice recorder app that I had downloaded for the sole purpose of documenting and relaying the inevitable fall of one Flash Thompson. 

Making my way through the crowd of students during the busiest time of the day, I made the most intrigued and outraged facial expression I possibly could. Spying my targets, I leaned against a nearby wall, putting a hand over my mouth in fake outrage, keeping my eyes wide and trained on the opposite wall. Just as I had predicted, the two sophomore girls started giving me side-eye by minute two of my staring and finally approached me as I contemplated the wall for whole five minutes.

"I'm sorry, are you okay?" The brunette asked, her blonde friend hanging a step back.

"Yeah, totally," I mumbled. "I'm, like, shook beyond imagination, but nothing, like, bad."

The girls traded a curious look, seemingly coming to some sort of conclusion. The greedy gleam in their eyes had me internally cheering. "What happened?" The blonde one asked, coming closer.

"I'm not sure if I should tell that to anyone," I stammered, watching them bodily move forward. "Well, okay, I can't keep quiet. But you must never, ever speak of it or I'll get expelled or something," I said nervously. They both nodded so rapidly it reminded me of Funko Pop figurines. "You know the senior guy, Flash? Brown hair, kinda hot?" Again, they both nodded, conspicuously grinning. "I think I just saw him in the closed girls bathroom on the third floor with, like, some brunette from Ms. Johnson's History class," They both gasped. Predictable. "But that's not the worst! They were like, y'know," I made an obscene gesture with my hand and they instantly covered their own mouths with their palms in shock. "And the chick was like 'is it in yet?' and he was like 'yah' and I just closed the door and ran, oh my god I hope they didn't hear me," I squealed at the end, playing the part of a mortified teenager.

All three of us giggled uncomfortably for a moment. The blonde girl stared at me suspiciously. "And what were you doing there?"

I faked a nervous stammer, looking around briefly and showing them my lighter for a moment. They both gasped and nodded in recognition. "Don't tell anybody or my mom is going to have kittens," I pleaded. Both of them nodded solemnly, noticing their own group of friends approach. I used the brief moment to get lost in the river of pupils and by the time they turned around to introduce me, I was already at the opposite part of the hallway.

For the time being, everything seemed peaceful. There were a few giggles and side-eyes directed towards Flash Thompson but nothing out of the ordinary. He was disliked by most of the student population even if nobody dared to admit it outright. I took care to walk around without my earbuds for the day and pulled out my phone to record the most interesting conversations around me whenever I caught the tell tale signs of a gossip mill beginning to run its course around the school.

"Oh my god, I heard about this girl that was caught fucking Flash in the girls bathroom and she literally said 'is it in yet', can you imagine the shock, jeez!"

"Some chick literally just rejected Flash because his dick was too small."

"Rebecca from AP chemistry told me someone saw Flash's micropenis. Poor guy!"

"I wonder if his girlfriend dumped him because he can't do shit, I mean, he doesn't look like the type to eat the kitty."

Those were just the highlights of the Friday afternoon. Come the weekend and the news of Flash's unfortunate condition will make the rounds through every single group chat that the school has and by the time Monday rolls around, nobody will have a clue who started the rumour in the first place. I had to carefully select the girls who were to distribute the rumour and I was happy with the outcome: Marissa and Layla with their squad of chatty, bored rich girls were the perfect choice. I thought they would jump at any opportunity to cause drama and I was right.

It was sufficient to say I was bristling with pride as I cut and compiled the audio track from today's school day before sending it to the group chat.

Clint, Peter and Natasha appeared online as soon as the message delivered and I was delighted at their response. Romanoff's kind words, specifically, made me all warm and mushy inside. I didn't resist the feeling, basked in it even as I did a happy dance around my room. Peter's nonsensical string of emojis was another point of laughter for me. 

It wasn't exactly the smartest way to go about killing Thompson's reputation... Alas, simplicity is the way to success when it comes to large crowds of teenagers. That tiny little vindictive part of me was very much looking forward to the weekend and the results of the inevitable distortion of the rumour I had started. Who knew, maybe by Monday Flash Thompson would not only have a micropenis but horns and hooves as well.

Near bedtime, I had all the avengers send me their regards and thumbs up. I answered the flurry of texts as quickly as I could but there was no point in keeping up with ten or so people constantly streaming their questions, opinions and comments. 

I settled on a single easiest response: pulling my dad's old uni sweatshirt over my tiny lacy pajamas to preserve some modesty, I settled in front of my mirror, turning on my Bluetooth speaker to play "Boss Ass Bitch". In true gen-z fashion, I put on my best resting witch face and solemnly lip-synced to the song's eponymous chorus. My eyeliner was sharp enough to cut paper and my prismatic highlighter glittered enigmatically in the cold light of my blue lava lamp.

The response was, once again, delightful and I genuinely belly-laughed at the adults' attempts to meme after Peter. His blushy face emoji started a whole nother conversation that I didn't participate in but watched from the sidelines with glee, snorting every time his friends and mentors gently teased him about the very obvious crush he harboured on me. 

Seeing Peter starting to go absolutely nuts, I interjected with an offer (more like a dare) of a lip sync battle. He jumped on the bandwagon, immediately going offline to undoubtedly film an epic video of what I thought would be dorky-dancing to some hipster song. I was pleasantly surprised when it turned out to be a pre-recorded tik tok video of him and Ned fighting with lightsabers while mouthing the words to Fergalicious that played over the Imperial March.

Weirdos. I still followed him on the app, though, it was pretty funny.

Bucky interjected with a very well executed rendition of "Bring Me to Life": he was wearing his full Winter Soldier get-up, complete with an AK-47, dramatically serenading Steve who looked seventeen shades of done with his partner's antics. Wanda's following twenty second voice message consisted of nothing but pure hysterical laughter, summing up everyone's reaction to the video. Bucky was going to go viral one of these days...

Obviously, I had good competition and nobody else seemed to want to participate so I rearranged my surroundings a little bit and stood up at my full height and swapped the old sweatshirt for a cute crop-top hoodie. My thigh-highs were on display and with my make-up, I looked like a proper internet e-girl. I leaned against the mirror as I mouthed along to the song with my best interpretation of the famous Lucifer smirk, seasoned with a tiny bit of angelic innocence: "Doctor, doctor, give me the news, I got a bad case of loving you..."

Needless to say, I won the competition. Eventually Wanda joined in, looking menacing and ominous with her dark clothes and Natasha's red hair flashing somewhere in the background; even Tony did a round (AC/DC as his soundtrack of course) with one of his Iron Man suits but nothing beat my stunt and the reaction that it caused.

I had accidentally called out Bruce with the choice of my song and his teammates gave both of us a lot of cheeky comments about it. We relented and flirted with each other a bit as the conversation flowed into more mundane discussion; I said my good nights somewhere between Tony's bitching about the hobbies of my generation and my nightly skincare routine. The little green heart that I'd become accustomed to over the past few weeks greeted me just as I was about to lock my phone.

Bruce was really too precious for this world. My crush on him was different than the one on Tony, it mellowed out in comparison. I wanted him to hold me, to stroke my hair, to call me his darling and wrap me up in one of those dorky button-ups that he insisted on wearing in spite of Tony's unwanted, however very valid, fashion advice.

For all that's worth, the scientist probably knew or at least suspected and had the good grace to play along just enough to satisfy my deep need for attention... Without crossing any actual lines. It was frustrating, it was disappointing but I had virtually nothing to complain about. Besides, I didn't want to lose the quirky friendship that we had. Banner was, probably, the least judgemental person I knew and I wasn't about to trade that for an awkwardly stolen kiss.

Monday and Tuesday passed in a flurry of giggling and snorting every time Flash walked by. His girlfriend broke up with him, very publicly, accusing him of cheating and he didn't even deny it - just insulted her and stormed off, leaving even his friends looking lost and clueless. I started dragging Peter and his two pet nerds along with me just about everywhere I went in case Thompson decided to do something stupid again. If judging only by the looks he was throwing our little company, he was on his way to figuring out who began nibbling at his reputation.

The week was coming to an end and the rumour began dying off, slowly. That just didn't sit with me, I wanted the fucker gone. Due to the obvious time constraints, I approached MJ regarding Peter - after a brief argument, we came to an agreement regarding Peter's safety should I need to leave him alone in the hallways or at lunch. 

I needed to do this alone so if I got caught, I won't drag them down with me. Granted, I would probably get something like a suspension and the school will attempt to call my mother (she never picks up) but that's about it. That's where her reputation comes in handy-people consciously avoid dealing with her, she can be that unbearable.

But first, I needed to get a teacher that's on my side. After carefully considering the candidates, I settled on my Social Studies professor - he taught the college-level classes and was overall a very chill, nice dude. And he disliked bullies with a flaming passion. So it didn't take me long to work him into a righteous fury - just a quick chat over a cup of tea in his homeroom and a few pictures of Peter's bruised face, complete with my own pleading puppy eyes. We agreed Mr Davies would "accidentally" leave the teacher's lounge unlocked during third period and I would sneak in. The plan wasn't foolproof but if it worked, not only Flash, but also his whole misogynistic, bigoted family would go down.

As I was leaving, Mr Davies looked up at me with a bright smile: "Give them Hell, alright?" And I suddenly noticed he was, in fact, very attractive. The smile brought out the fine wrinkles around his mouth, the crow's feet around his eyes - he smiled a lot. Silver strands mixed in with the wooden brown of his hair.

I let my eyes slide over him briefly before baring my teeth in return. "I owe you one," I don't know what possessed me to say that. My mouth really had a mind of its own sometimes. The room suddenly became hot.

"Sure," He replied, totally oblivious.

On Friday, I made myself a small nest in the empty classroom opposite the teacher's lounge and sat waiting for the signal from Mr Davies - he'd tap on the door once and I'd quietly go inside the teacher's lounge, retrieve Thompson's file and make my way back to the empty classroom to grab my backpack and carry the file to my locker for further examination. 

The first part went successfully and I managed to snag Thompson's file. It was heavy and hefty, all the evidence of his rowdiness compiled into one flimsy plastic folder. There were A LOT of pink slips and I rejoiced internally: at least there was a paper trail of his exploits. The principal didn't do anything about it which was... If not against the rules then at least frowned upon; the plan was to take copies and anonymously submit them to the school board prompting at least an investigation into the blatant disregard for Flash's immoral and illegal behaviour.

On my way back I stumbled upon the principal herself which got me not only a stern talking to, but a whole detention for skipping class. Whatever, I was too elated from potentially ruining the life of a dumb fuck who ruined my friend's face.

Surprise came in the face of Mr Davies, who, having heard the commotion in the hallway, stepped out of his class and saw me being lectured by the principal. 

"I'll take her for the detention," I heard the familiar voice behind me. The principal nodded solemnly and I had no choice but to sigh in resignation. "Three thirty, be here," He nodded to me, walking back, looking way too smug for his own good. So I wasn't the only one excited about the successful completion of stage two of my nefarious plan. Cue evil laughter.

[dragonrajafanfiction]

The Trieste Venture but with the MC added (Part One)

How the Trieste adventure should have gone in the game.

"They ...... they're coming!" Lu Mingfei said hoarsely.

You and Chu Zihang looked out from the observation window below. Scarlet water mist gushed out of the ruined ground. The dragon blood flowing from it rushed up, and from the cracks in the ground crawled slender living creatures, their bodies glowing with a metallic sheen, their pupils a hideous gold. Because they had slumbered so long, they couldn’t swim up yet. They creeped on the sea bed, crawling, wriggling their slender lower body. But after being nourished by the dragon's blood, their bodies immediately regained the strength of the ancient era. As they crawled they sprang up, swinging their long tails to float upwards rapidly. They passed by the side of the Trieste, but did not cast even a glance at the metal object with the lights on. Their eyes were on the endless darkness above. Hundreds and thousands of them finally broke free from the seal of bondage and were about to return to the human world.

"Snake tail people. Mermaids." Chu Zihang said softly, "This is not a pureblood dragon species. They were also human-dragon hybrids. This is not the city of the dragon race, it was built by the ancestors of the hybrids!"

"It's like a dragon ascending to heaven." Lu Mingfei murmured.

In the upper view, countless slender shadows were striving to swing their long tails, and the lava illuminated their bodies as they came together like golden whirlpools.

"When they rise all the way to the surface, this will get tricky. If even one of things were captured by the media, tomorrow every newspaper in the world will make it a headline." Caesar said, "But it's not our business anymore. Leave it to those Japanese. It's time for their support team to come into play. Our job is just to level the place. Whether it's the Lenin, the Embryo or Takamagahara. The very existence of such things is trouble."

"The deep-sea walking suits can only support five minutes at most." Chu Zihang said, "I'll have the Trieste lowered a bit."

"That's enough time." Caesar squeezed himself into the pressurized compartment on the side of the cockpit, swiveled around and snapped the 10 meter thick hatch shut.

Outside is an incredibly ultra-high pressure environment, and Caesar couldn’t use a diving suit without being crushed. So instead he was in another robotic submersible made of thick metal, spherical and pressurized. But even with this, his time is quite limited. Caesar gripped the operating handle of the metal arm firmly and blew into the microphone in the helmet: "Chu Zihang, try the communication device."

"I can hear you very clearly here, can you hear me?" Chu Zihang tapped the microphone in the cockpit.

"The call works well," Caesar paused, "Aren't you also a proud man?"

Chu Zihang froze.

"It's just that you're proud in a different way than I am." Caesar added, "Although you're uncomfortable when you're proud, if you weren't proud, you wouldn't deserve to be seen as an opponent by me at all. Those old guys in my family want to target you, but that matter has nothing to do with me. Don't think I would use those kinds of underhanded tactics against you. If it's my death and your life, just keep living so proudly … don't be defeated by the bastards I despise."

You’re not sure what they’re referring to exactly so you ask Zihang directly. “You were targeted by Caesar’s family?”

“It’s a long story.” Chu Zihang muttered, still focused on the device.

“MC! You’re not crying! That’s a good sign!” Caesar’s teasing voice came through in your ears.

You scowl at the monitor. “I never cry for any of my friends.”

“You do it when you sleep.”

Your jaw clenched and your hands balled into fists.

Lu Mingfei audibly gasped. If his head swiveled on his neck any faster, it might snap. “No way! You two… No way!”

“Nothing happened between us!” You growl at Lu Mingfei, before turning back to the image of Caesar in the monitor. “Why are you listening outside my bedroom, you creep? I’ll try not to cry for you then. I should be out there. You’re responsible for your own death.” You didn’t mean to speak so bitterly. But you never really had time to mourn, so your grief rapidly progressed from shock to denial to anger. But Caesar only chuckled, amused to get a rise out of you even at a time like this.

　　The moment the pressurized nozzle spewed out the zeppelin gear, Chu Zihang saw Caesar in the gear put his hand into the spherical helmet and gave him a thumbs up, not knowing it meant "victory".

Caesar slowly descended in the water, occasionally brushing by newborn mermaids. The ruin was like a gateway to Hell. Now that door to the underworld is open, the souls are desperate to escape. The mermaids are no longer in their right mind, but they still retain their beastly instincts, as if all of them have a premonition of destruction, and they are desperately fleeing from this desperate situation, not attacking anything along the way. Caesar couldn't figure out how the guardians could have sensed that Takamagahara would be destroyed by a nuclear explosion. That’s obviously not something they would be able to do.

Some of these long-dead hybrid species were intact, others were mutilated. Their preservation was similar to the mummification process but used more powerful alchemical techniques that sealed their vitality in immortal bodies. Some of them were missing half of their heads, others had pierced abdominal cavities, seemingly the remains left after a brutal battlefield, which the alchemists of the ancient world used as raw material. Caesar thought of the battlefield carvings he had seen on a birdhouse, as if that battle had really happened in history, and perhaps it was what finally destroyed the city.

In the light of gas mines and lava, the nuclear powerhouse that would be used to blow up the ruin and the Lenin were in clear view. The narrow nuclear powerhouse pitched in a pile of lung snails not far from the Lenin, millions of them writhing beside it. Caesar dropped into the pile of lung snails, and the tiny creatures were steadily dislodging themselves from the Lenin, hitting the zeppelin suit with a dull thud. Struggling to maneuver his awkward prosthetic limbs back to a standing position, Caesar trudged through the pile of lung snails, inching closer to the nuclear powerhouse. The currents were too chaotic for him to float forward, so he didn't dare release the lead weight on his zeppelin rig, and had to stick to the seabed like this, somewhere between walking and crawling. There was a constant stream of mermaids passing above his head. How many of them had been revived, a few thousand or tens of thousands? Caesar could not count them. In this underworld at the height of the day countless undead were buried underground. These mermaid hybrids seem to have directly inherited the civilization of the dragon, completely unlike humans.

The Zeppelin suit is already working over-capacity -- the pressure is overloaded, the output is overloaded, and the lighting inside the helmet keeps flashing out. If not protected by the ultra-high-pressure saline inside the suit, Caesar would have been bleeding internally, but the ultra-high-pressure saline also made his eyes bloodshot and made it difficult to breathe. He had eyes only for the nuclear powerhouse less than ten meters away, but to crawl through ten meters in the waist-deep pile of lung snails, he gradually wondered if he could do it.

His vision was getting blurry. The effects of high pressure are the most obvious on vision. The target in his sight began to appear ghostly. He started to feel a severe headache. His metal prosthetic limbs were slipping in the pile of lung snails, as if he was struggling in a mudslide and could be swallowed up at any moment.

Caesar closed his eyes and released the Scythe Itachi. Few people know that his hearing ability is not an aid. It’s a sixth sense even more effective than vision. The scythes hovered and danced in the sea, and Caesar was surprised to find the field expanded to an unprecedented extent. The sea was an excellent conductor of sound, and the loss of sonic transmission was less than in the air. Caesar could now see that the ancient buildings that had collapsed had thousands of black bells hanging from them. In the days when Takamagahara stood on the earth, the wind must have drowned the whole city in bells.

But in the sea, the bells emitted sound is beyond the range of normal human hearing ultra-low frequency. If he had not released the scythe then Caesar would not have been able to hear this magical music. Heavy ancient ultra-low frequency sound with the sea current through the ruins, Caesar immersed in the ancient music, imagining that the Takamagahara was on dry land. Thousands of bells were turning in the wind, and the tide of sound was ebbing and flowing in the city, tidal wave after tidal wave. He had never "heard" such a vast city.

"Come in, Caesar! Come in, Caesar! Answer! Answer!" Chu yelled.

Three minutes after ejecting from the deep submersible, Caesar lay in a pile of lung snails. His last action was to cling to a pile of lung snails, and from the camera inside his helmet, look at the pleasant smile remaining on his face.

No answer. Life monitoring equipment showed that he still has a heartbeat, but he had completely lost consciousness. You turn your eyes from the monitor. You can’t bear to look. Renata… Anton… Vera…

Did you have to watch Caesar die too?

Chu Zihang muted the microphone, took off the headset and handed it to you, staring into your eyes: "Remember, since the nuclear power module is detached, Sumeru can no longer monitor the data of its  operation, underwater communication must rely on the cable."

You refuse to accept it. “What are you doing? You’re not going to go out there and die too, are you? Caesar said we all have to stay here!”

"What do you mean? I don't understand!" Lu Mingfei shook his head in bewilderment.

Chu Zihang doesn’t respond to you but presses the device into your hand. "It means that if you don't tell Gen-kun about what’s happening, he doesn't know if the nuclear power module has been ignited again. If I fail to bring Caesar back, you tell Gen-kun that the ignition has been successful, but not that you cannot recover me and Caesar, so that he can recover you immediately. Gen-kun cannot verify the result of the ignition, he can only choose to bring you back. If he knows you’re still here and the nuclear module is not ignited, he will ask one of you to stay in the deep submersible and the other to get out of the cabin." 

“Zihang, let me go out there. H-hey!”

Chu Zihang put the headset on your head, "Don't say too much, and don't argue with me out of embarrassment. Just like Caesar does not want to sacrifice himself to save you and me out of the cabin, Chisei’s pride does not allow him to drive us out of the cabin."

You pull the headset off. “This is bullshit! Did you hear anything I said before to Caesar? Why aren’t you listening to me?”

"My pride also does not allow me to let a lower grade out of the cabin." Chu Zihang ignored the headset you held out, "If we don't make it back, you're the leader of the dive team."

“Isn’t Lu Mingfei my senior?” Your gaze shifts from Chu Zihang to Lu Mingfei.

Lu Mingfei sat limp on the chair, eyes innocent like a small raccoon, and you realize that Chu Zihang was right. Never once had you ever seen Lu Mingfei ever fend for himself in a pinch. He always seemed lost with the eyes of a small raccoon. If anything happened to Chu Zihang and you, Lu Mingfei would be fish bait.

The Dark-haired senior turned to Lu Mingfei. "Answer me sincerely, are you still unable to forget Nono?"

“Huh?” You asked.

Lu Mingfei lowered his head: "Yes, but I can't do anything about it, I just try not to think about it."

"If you're the only one of the three of us to escape, don't feel guilty about it. It's not your fault that Caesar and I had an accident. Try again to see if you can impress Nono. I always think she's actually a very weak girl inside. Losing Caesar will be very sad, right?" Chu Zihang walked towards the pressurized cabin, "You still have a goal to achieve, unlike me, I have nothing to aim for."

Your eyes returned to Lu Mingfei with a brand new sense of disgust. Was he seriously lusting after Caesar’s fiancée, planning to take his place at her side now that he’s going to die? If you knew that was the case, then you would have been happy to let Lu Mingfei out there to get eaten by lung snails!

"Brother, did you like the little dragon lady?" Lu Mingfei asked in a numb voice.

"So you call her the Little Dragon Lady?" He turned to you and said, “I know there’s a lot you don’t understand, but you will in time. Thank you for caring for him.”  Chu Zihang snapped the door of the pressure chamber shut behind him.

When Lu Mingfei turns to look at you, he doesn’t even react to the deep despising look you’re giving him. He just sighs. 

“You’re an asshole.” You snarl at him, biting the words out.

“I know…” He grumbles. “You don’t have to tell me.

[karoiseka]

Bow

((Okay.  C’mon.  This is me with Karo here.  You KNOW which way I was gonna pronounce/interpret this word...  Anyways, I was gonna do this just simple thing where I had Karo as my main “narrator” going through things... and then... well.  Seirlait said no.  He said his turn.  So.  Some more Karo backstory, and Dads backstory too.))

Seirlait looked at the tiny bow in his hands and again wondered why he had traded for it in the last town they were in.  Feo had been teaching Karo reading and numbers, not to mention introducing her to the tales that he so loved in book format.  Her thirst for knowledge was strong and he wanted to encourage that as much as possible, but she had also been asking about hunting with him.  He had put it off, waiting until he was positive that it was something she wanted to learn, but she had been sneaking out to watch him practice, or just using the excuse to sit outside the wagon as he set up his targets.  His bow was almost as tall as she was, but, despite that Seir had caught her holding it on more than one occasion, tugging gently on the bowstring, eyes wide at how taut it was.

He had found a seller with a Lalafell sized bow--not too hard on the pull--and bought it, hiding it in his pack.  She wasn’t much taller than most grown people of that race, and he didn’t want to get her something too soft.  If she couldn’t pull it, she’d do chores to grow into it.  He had gotten a collection of arrows to fit it as well, and laid it in her chair for when she awoke in the morning.  She might not realize, but it had been a year since he found her in the clearing, alone and forgotten.  All their lives had changed so much in so little time, and she had blossomed in their care, growing towards the bright sunny future.

Many years later, the small kitten had grown into a lithe teen, the blue in her hair more pronounced, and tan facial markings darkening with time.  Karo had taken to the bow as if she had been born with one in her hand, an equal to his hunting skills after her years of training.  Together they took on small bounties and hunted for those that couldn’t for coin, helping to augment their trading and adding pelts and meat to sell.  She had long graduated her starter bow, and now carried a short bow well suited for the forests the mainly hunted in.  Despite being a natural, if they were out together, she still looked to him for guidance though and approval, finding his eyes after every shot to make sure she had done well.  He thanked the Twelve that she hadn’t lost her thirst for knowledge either, days filled with hunting and evenings filled with learning.

It all hadn’t been smooth sailing, several winters were very lean having to be creative with their stores and food, and there had been one that they had to forego staying in the cabin altogether, staying on the road going far south into Thanalan hoping for the warmer weather to stave off the ill fortune of that year.  There were the normal storms, rocky patches, and growing pains as well, though they all came together in the end.  And she continued to grow.

The short wooden bow was gripped with white-knuckles as tears streamed down three broken faces.  They had arrived back after five long years away--traveling all over, giving succor where able and learning the new pathways and ways of the world after disaster had struck and torn all asunder.  The last thing Seirlait and Feophaux expected to be confronted with when they joyously made their way back to their home was the stranger in their daughter’s body.  Blue eyes held no recognition, wondering who they were as they invaded her haven from the outer world.  They had tried to reconcile, tried to make her remember, each moment, each sun bringing more pain.  A small pack was slung over her shoulder, bow in hand as she fled--no memories to help her on her path, no desire to remain a moment more.  The men clung to each other, distraught, but knowing nothing else to do but let her go--their precious daughter they could no longer protect.

The silver trimmed with deep blue gems called to Seir as his hand hovered over beautiful trimming on the sting bow.  They had come, traveling further than ever with the rumors of the Warrior of Light being in the area, but were about to flee again with actually looking for her--again.  The fear of the unseeing, unrecognizing eyes glancing over them was almost more painful than not seeing her at all. They had found that plenty of the people in the rebuilt outpost knew and loved their daughter--which did not surprise them.  Seir looked over at Feo, and dug out most of their funds, paying off the balance of the beautiful bow that could help keep her safe.  Next time she was there, the bow would be her's, and they could sleep just a little better.  

They were able to pull the trick off of funding her a better weapon one more time, just before the battle at Ghimlyt Dark.  The exotic bow that she had started paying on was fashioned with a dragon in the Doma style, and they knew she had spent plenty of time there the past couple of years freeing the people there.  It was hard to picture their little girl pulling such an obvious weapon of war instead of a hunting bow made for practicality.  It mattered naught if it kept her safe.  They could hear commotion at the tunnel leading to the lands toward Ala Mhigo, and they fled back to the Shroud as fast as their Chocobos were willing to go--once more fearful of eyes that would see right through them.  They would linger though, helping these desperate people rebuild as best they could.  They had already brought a wagon full of travelers--refugees--from Little Ala Mhigo in the south of Thanalan back to their homeland.  It didn’t pay much--but that’s not why they did it.  

To be able to help her, in the slightest way, to help those that she helped as well and hear the first hand tales of those that she had sat and talked with, made a difference to.  It was all they could have for now, and would take with both hands as best they could until she came back to them.  A letter sat, forlorn and full of hope, ready to be found it time brought her back home when they weren’t there--a reminder of their love of her that never waned.