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incorporealbombchelle · 2 months ago

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Friend of the Family

Mr.Reed × Fem!Reader(Mid-20s) [18+]

Synopsis: Part 1 - (y/n)'s boring family Christmas vacation to Colorado doesn't exactly go as anticipated...

⚠️TW: Boring Family Dynamic, Age Gap, Alcohol Consumption (all parties of age), Oral Sex (Male & Female Recipients), Raw P in V Penetration, Breif Mutual Masturbation, General Smut. ❄️

"So do I even *actually* know this guy?" I interrogate, unsure why we're staying there instead of some mountainside Airbnb. "Of course! (y/n), you've met Mr. Reed plenty of times, you were just, y'know...smaller." Dad explains, cheery. "Okay... but when you said 'Colorado Christmas Vacation' I thought we'd be like... snowboarding, or hanging out in a cute mountain town, or at least renting a cool cabin in Telluride... not like... the middle of nowhere part of Boulder with some guy I haven't seen since I was a kid..."

He sighs, defeated by my expectations yet again. "Listen. He's my best friend, a few years back he lost his wife, and its true, I haven't gotten around to seeing him in person since you were four, Bug."

He drones on,

"He's a really nice guy, and super cool. He loves that Lana Del Rey girl you're always talking about, and he's got a really nice collection of records and books, its like a mini Barnes & Noble in there! You might find you have more in common than you think!" He offers.

And I decline : "With a 64-year-old retired engineer from England? Yeah thanks, I'll pass. I'm just gonna stay out of the way, keep my headphones on, and let you two reconnect."

I pull out my phone, pop in my earpods, and open Tumblr, pretending to care at all about the latest posts on the Spencer Reid tag. Out of the corner of my eye I can tell I've hurt his feelings, but fathers never say the right thing, and he can withstand a little sting every once in a while. It's what he deserves for not telling me where we were staying til halfway through the plane ride.

Our plane finally touches down, we funnel through Boulder Municipal into a cab and I won't be the first one to speak. I take one earpod out just in case, which Dad takes as an invitation. "Just got a text from Mr. Reed, and I hope you're hungry Bug, because there. will. be. pie." He beams as though this is some great revelation, elaborating "He's got this wild recipe with earl grey in the crust and lemon zest in the filling, it's award-winning. Seriously! He enters it in the local contest every other year and it's only lost once!"

Despite how riveting my father finds Mr. Reed and his Great British baking exploits, I do not, and apparently it shows as his smile tamps down to a simper. "Sweetie, I'm really trying here. I can't convince you it's gonna be the best Christmas ever, hey, we'll probably both have altitude sickness the entire time, but let's just make an attempt, okay? Nothing has to be perfect." He's an idiot but he's right and I agree. "Okay, yeah. I'll be nice." I sigh "That pie does sound pretty good, I guess..."

The cab rolls through the city of Boulder as Lana lilts gently in my earpods about 'haaa-aa-ow toooo disappear~' and maybe this trip won't be so bad after all.

We're finally dropped at the gate to Mr. Reed's house and -you're fucking kidding me- his driveway, long and winding, is gravel. I wince inwardly at the realization that I'll have to lug two wheeled suitcases up that path and flash Dad a fake 'I'm so glad We're doing this' smile before yanking them out of the trunk and making my way up to the stoop. This pie better be incredible.

Once Dad and I are situated on the stoop, out of breath and travel-weary, I assault Mr. Reed's doorbell. It's cold and I need a shower.

ding. .... nothing. ding-ding. nope. dingdingdingdingdingdingdingding-

The door opens, finally, and a sweet-looking older man in a well composed cardigan-button down combo and jeans answers the door, smiling bright as his eyes fall on Dad.

"Jonathan!!"

"Reed!!"

Laughter ensues as I observe their embrace, holding back a heavy eyeroll. Somehow I am already third-wheeling.

"Oh my god, Mr. Reed, you remember (y/n)? She's just finished a semester at Oxford!" Dad smirks, gesturing to me and I give a shy wave as Mr. Reed's eyes scan over me, widening in surprise.

"(y/n)? As in, little (y/n), (y/n) who was- ?" He holds his hand flat, bringing it down by his knee as he looks between me and dad in disbelief.

"The very same, can you believe it?"

I purse my mouth into a smile, just completely overwhelmed by how awkward this interaction is.

"Well look at you! You've certainly grown up, haven't you?"

"I suppose so!" my best fake laugh.

Mr. Reed's eyes trace my form again and he pulls me into a quick side hug. He's warm and smells like lemon zest, vanilla extract.

"Let's get you two in then, supposed to be a blizzard tonight."

He grabs one of my suitcases and we follow him as he shuffles back inside.

His house is simple and a little cramped, but I do smell pie. 'Bless This Mess' reads a framed piece of embroidery on the wall, and if there is a God, I hope he does.

We toss our bags into our respective guest rooms at the top of the stairs and I finally get to take my shower before making a way back downstairs to the dining room.

We sit through a meal -shepherd's pie, what is it with this guy and pie?- and my dad and Mr. Reed discuss people they both know who died or lived or have moved or haven't moved and I am in hell until-

"Little after dinner drink then?"

My eyes snap up from my plate to meet his, a small smirk tugging at the corners of my mouth. His eyes crinkle at the ends when he smiles, warm and comforting and it occurs to me for the first time that Mr. Reed is...handsome... If he were 20 years younger he'd definitely be my type, in fact...

"Alright! So that's one, me makes two, Jonathan, little shiraz with your pie?"

"Well how could I say no to such a generous offer?" Dad beams.

We move back into the living room and sip and I pick at the pie. It is good and after a glass and a half of shiraz Mr. Reed looks just as appetizing, but I decide I'm not going to eye-fuck this old man in front of my father, or at least not in an obvious way.

So I sit, tepid, on my phone and pretend not to be bothered by the lack of service while I half listen to their conversation, looking up strategically to ogle Mr. Reed every now and then. His eyes find mine and I watch him nibble at his lip and does he know?

"So then (y/n), Oxford, hm?"

"Uhm, yeah, I'm in their creative writing MFA program right now... its... interesting."

"Interesting boring or interesting incredible?" He crosses one leg over the other and leans in, attentive.

"Uh, I mean it's going well, people in my classes are a little...er.. pretentious..?" I giggle, nervous.

"Exactly as I remember it, then!" He laughs loudly, and dad joins in, snickering along. His laughter is infectious and this wine is making me blush and I smile.

"You're an alum?"

"What, the accent didn't give it away?" A chuckle, "Yeah, yeah, I was lucky enough to take about an eon of courses in engineering sciences there, immigrate in the 90s, build this place, blah blah blah, but enough on me, it seems we may just be in the midst of the next great American novelist, eh Jonathan?" A wink.

"I don't know about that," I tear my eyes away from him, focusing in on the details of a floorboard.

"Oh (y/n) don't be modest, Reed you'd love her stuff, she's got some of the most well-metered prose, and-"

"Dad." I warn, eyes wide with embarrassment.

"Oop, sorry bug," He cringes "Didn't mean to dad-out on ya."

"I'd love to read some of your writing sometime, granted you'd be comfortable enough to share." Mr. Reed interjects.

"Uh, yeah. Maybe. Sometime..."

"Can I top you up?"

"Sure." He fills my glass just to the midpoint and does the same for himself.

"Jonathan?" He smirks playfully at dad.

"Ah, I dunno, I should probably be getting some shut-eye actually."

"Aw come on,"

"No, no, these days if im up past 10 with a drink in hand I'll be totally useless the next 24 hours." He stands, patting my shoulder. "Night, y'all. Don't have too much fun without me!" And there go the finger guns so now it's my turn to cringe.

He finally leaves the room and I'm alone with Mr. Reed. There's a heavy silence in the air and I take a small sip of my drink.

"So, (y/n), big on Lana Del Rey I hear?" He smirks.

"One of my favorites." I breathe, forcing a smile.

"Norman Fucking Rockwell or Blue Banisters?"

"NFR."

His eyebrows raise "it's okay to be wrong."

"But I'm not."

"Lust for Life or Born To Die; Paradise Edition?"

"... you ask hard questions, Mr. Reed."

"And you... answer them."

"And if I give you another 'wrong' answer?"

"Why would it matter? Are you trying to impress me?"

"...Paradise." I squint at him.

"Mm, see? We agree on something."

I'm powerless to the smile that forms on my face.

"Yeah?"

He lets out a low laugh. "Yeah,"

"What drew you to her, originally I mean?" He looks me over.

"Well, like a lot of young women I do have the obligatory depression diagnosis and Tumblr account combo, and things spiraled out from there I guess..."

"Ah, and here I thought it was just your ill-suited attraction to old men!" He lets out a warm chuckle at his own joke and I must've misheard him.

"What?" I shift a bit in my place on the couch, called out.

He scoffs. "Come on, (y/n). Let's not play this game. You've been eyeing me up since dinner, sitting there and sipping your drink and sucking berries off your fork in the most salacious way, letting your gaze linger, innocent and doe-eyed yet so apathetic to it all," he rolls his eyes like he might be as well, "when in reality, it seems, correct me if I go wrong, but you've been looking at me all night like you want me to touch you. Is that accurate or am I projecting a fantasy?"

The tip of his tongue trails his lip, my gaze following its path and I'm warm. His eyes search mine, that was supposed to be a question.

"Uhm... no that... that sounds...accurate..." I admit almost silently, eyes boring into the floor as I sheepishly take another sip of my wine.

"Hm. I see. And in front of your father too...tsk, naughty girl. Lucky for you the man's terrible at reading body language or subtext of any variant,"

Mr. Reed rises from his chair across the coffee table and plants himself on the edge of the sofa next to me. "I, however, do not have that problem." I look up at him and his eyes are two blue marbles behind those wireframed glasses, his cheshire smirk enough to melt me, it's overwhelming.

My face grows hot and my body tight as he delicately removes the wineglass from my hand, sets it down on the coffee table, and leans down to kiss me.

He's tender and gentle and his lips are soft, his tongue stained with blueberry filling as it finds mine, and he strokes my cheek. I place a shaky hand on his knee and one of his covers it as he presses his forehead to mine, breaking the spell. "Are you certain this is something you want, (y/n)? I wouldn't want to impose-" I cut him off with another, more assertive kiss because I need this.

The holidays are stressful and I'm horny and he's here. Fuck it.

As we continue making out, Mr. Reed scoots onto the couch beside me and I find his zipper. His dick jumps to meet my hand through the fabric as one of his hands slips under my sweater and he moans at the softness of my breast.

I pull away to unzip his pants and stroke him a couple times before moving to kneel between his legs. I look up to him, reverent, then back down to his cock, throbbing in hand. Giving him a few steady strokes, I lean forward, parting my lips.

"Can I?" I blink.

He nods eagerly, transfixed.

I take as much of him into my mouth as I can and swallow as his tip hits the back of my throat.

I hear him suck in a breath and his hands find my hair as I start to bob my head over the length of him, holding his balls with one hand and methodically stroking his base with the other. His breath catches, ragged and I feel him spasm in my mouth. I need him. I finally come up for air with a gasp and wipe a tendril of spit off my lower lip as I look up at him. "Mr. Reed, I want to fuck you," I breathe.

"Well all you had to do was ask," he sighs and I pull myself up off the floor, undoing my jeans and tugging them off my legs as quickly as I can before tearing off my sweater and within seconds I'm standing before him in just my panties and bralette. His eyes trail over me. His teeth sink into his lower lip as a hand wraps around his dick and I place a knee on either side of his legs, straddling him. Fair is fair and my fingers slip under the hem of my panties so I can work myself for him as he takes me in.

"How do you want me?"

"Turn around."

I follow his blunt instruction and as I do his fingers hook into either side of my panties, pulling the dampened fabric down my legs.

"Now, you're going to squat down for me... slowly."

I do as I'm told and he guides my hips, lining himself up with my center. Mr. Reed rests his hands on the tops of my thighs, pushing me further down into his lap and I gasp as I feel him begin to penetrate me. I knew it was big, I mean, he could barely fit in my mouth, but christ. I swivel my hips in an attempt to adjust to him, and hear him draw in a breath.

"(y/n), I want you to bounce for me, and you. will. not. make. a sound. understood?"

"Y-yes Mr. Reed."

I start to raise and lower myself slowly on him and gasp sharply as I feel myself tense. He holds me steady by my biceps and guides me up and down.

"Good, that's- ohh that is good, just keep going... mm, mhm, just. like. that. you. Are. Brilliant..." he murmurs, squeezing my ass and I bite back a moan

"Shhhh-shh..."

"Ssorry Mr. Reed," I manage quietly.

He continues to guide my movements, faster now, and I watch his head tip against the back of the couch. His cock twitches inside me and gasp sharply.

"(y/n), stand for me?" And I do.

He turns me around by my hips and I blink down at Mr. Reed and he's panting, glasses perched on top of his head, looking me over hungrily.

"Lay back on the couch here, pet."

He sets a pillow down for me to rest my head on and I do as he says, watching him part my legs, settling between them as he presses gentle kisses up my inner thighs, staring intently into my eyes as he does.

He hovers over my core and I gasp at the warmth of his breath. I watch Mr. Reed's eyes close for a moment as he inhales the scent of my sex and smirks to himself.

"Does your pussy taste like Pepsi Cola then, (y/n)?" He lets out a low chuckle at his own corny little quip, bringing his mouth closer "Shall we find out?"

He pins my thighs open and slowly licks a wide stripe up my vulva from entrance to clit. I can't hold back the whimper that slips from me at the heat of his tongue, and it's even harder to silence msyelf when he dips two fingers into me, curling the pads of his fingertips just slightly as he steadily works me, his tongue moving in a synced rythym against my clit.

The sensation is almost too much and I gasp as I feel myself spasm a couple times around his fingers. He hums into me and the vibration sends a shudder through my body. He tilts his head up, panting as he continues fingering me, and my hips arch up to meet his hand.

He removes his fingers, pressing them against the plush of my lower lip and into my mouth. I suck and lick impatiently, and before long his mouth is on mine again as I feel his cock slip back into me. I can't help the soft moan that escapes my lips as he begins to slowly rock his hips into mine.

"Mister Reed?" I breathe

"Mm?"

"It's... you're just...so big...." He smirks.

"Oh, I'm aware dear." He picks up his pace some "You're taking me so well, though..." he presses a kiss into the side of my neck and I gasp.

"Being so good for me..."

A loud creak interrupts us from overhead and Mr. Reed stops moving, eyes glued upwards as he clamps his hand over my mouth.

Heavy footsteps make the floorboards groan above us as he slowly starts to fuck me again and I take in a sharp breath through my nostrils, looking up at him, panicked.

"Shhh, shh-" another low creak.

Mr. Reed quickens his thrusts and I involuntarily whine against his hand which finds it's way to my neck instantly, holding firm.

"I said. Be quiet." He whispers sternly.

I bite my lip in an effort not to cry out, nodding and I begin to feel that familiar tension coiling inside as he bucks into me, my mind going totally blank at the way his hand feels wrapped around my throat.

The footsteps and floorboards finally stop, his grip on my neck releases some, and a warm haze overtakes my body as he continues to forcefully piston into me. I feel myself starting to tense up and struggle for breath as I unwind completely under him.

Seconds later, Mr. Reed lets out a low groan and I feel his orgasm pulse out acutely within me as I weather my own.

We lay there for a few minutes and as we come down together, the weight of our indiscretion settles in some.

I've just fucked my dad's best friend. Three days before Christmas. And I liked it. A lot.

"Needed.. that..." I huff.

"I could tell," he chortles.

Mr. Reed slips out of me, grabbing one of the discarded linen napkins from the coffee table to clean himself off with, before gently tucking it between my legs.

"Oh, and... it does, by the way."

Part 2❄️

#em.fic4 #friend of the family #hugh grant #mr reed #heretic #mr. reed #mr reed x reader #mr. reed x reader #mr. reed x fem reader #friend of the family fic #mr. reed smut #smut

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nova-is-a-writer-now · 6 months ago

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Hidden Embers

Series summary: You return to your home state the summer after graduating college. The relentless Texas heat, the suburban southern bubble and your treacherous relationship with your mom give you the feeling this will be a long summer. That's until Joel Miller enters the picture.

Summary: Your welcome-back party brings a re-encounter with one of your dad’s old friends, one you don’t remember looking so good.

A/N: Hello strangers, haven't seen you in a long long time. This is something that's been on the works for months now. Ideally, I wanted to put this series out when I had a good enough chunk of the story finished since I'm the most undecisive person ever. However, I wanna start posting some chapters on here as I go and then post the full completed thing on AO3. I will warn you though, it is very likely that as I write the story, I will keep on making some changes to previously posted chapters just so in the end it all makes sense and it's cohesive, I will let you guys know whenever there has been a major change. Take this as me asking the tumblr girlies to beta read this series before i publish it over on AO3. In any case, I hope the ones who decide to start reading here instead of waiting for the full thing enjoy it very much, I'm very open to suggestions, opinions and constructive critisism. :)

Warnings: Age-gap (Reader is 22, Joel is 46), Dbf!Joel, mommy issues

It was your first summer back home after graduation. The relentless Texas heat was bringing memories from your childhood that had been buried away until now, some of them felt more like dreams at this point. You had never been too good with the heat, but spending four years in chilly, gloomy New England had certainly birthed a new appreciation for it.

You weren’t sure you wanted to come back and stay for the entire summer, but your southern-to-the-core mother has a knack for getting her way. Something about “You were away for four whole years, I’m sure you can spare us a couple months before you jump right into a job in god knows where. Who knows? Maybe you’ll end up moving back and finding something around here, a nice guy to settle down with and finally get your life going.”

God forbid.

Naturally, in true southern fashion, your parents had to make your graduation celebration a neighborhood affair. A big barbeque, with all the nice people your parents grew up with, went to highschool and college with, who married and had kids with each other. People who haven’t, a day in their lives, given a single thought to what might exist outside of their perfect suburban bubbles.

You weren’t trying to act ungrateful – it was a celebration of one of your most important milestones after all. People were coming together to congratulate you and your achievements. But if it were up to you, none of them would have been invited and you wouldn’t have celebrated it like this. Honestly, you missed the trips you used to take with your dad as a kid, all the way out in the countryside. Just the two of you for a week during the summer, staying in an old cabin that creaked and shook whenever your steps were too heavy. You don't remember why you stopped going, but you wished you still did. It would have been a much nicer celebration.

None of today’s guests knew you as anything other than your parent’s daughter, the shiny new thing your mother was choosing to show off. You knew that’s how it was gonna be the second your mother told you there was no point in attending your college’s graduation party, why would you when they could make you your own celebration back home with all the nice neighborhood people instead of a room full of strangers?

Your dad had good intentions, you knew that… deep, deep down. But it had always just been the three of you, and even when it was blatantly obvious your mother was in the wrong, even when there was no way of justifying her behavior, he still stood behind her, echoing her words.

And that's how you ended up here, prepping food for your own graduation barbeque, decorating your own garden, cleaning up your own house so it would be squeaky clean for people you hadn’t seen in well over a decade. It’s what a “Do it for me, i’ll make it up to you I promise. The community is just really important to your mom” from your dad gets out of you.

You had probably been looking at yourself for a good twenty minutes now. Nothing you tried on felt quite right. It was either too formal, too casual, too revealing or too childish. This was a direct consequence of moving out of the south at the ripe age of 10; No one in Virginia taught you how to dress for a neighborhood barbeque.

Last minute you land on a blue sundress, delicate white flowers scattered around, long enough to cover your knees but not enough to make you look like you just walked out of Sunday school. You took that as a win.

At the sound of your mother loudly complaining about no one in the house ever helping (a comment undoubtedly directed at you), you decide to drag yourself downstairs. The sooner you get this party started, the sooner you could be done with it.

Rushing down the stairs, distractedly gathering your hair up with a tie, you unexpectedly bump into something – or rather someone.

"Easy, there. Where's the fire?"

That familiar voice… same old Joel Miller. A few more grays overpowering the darkness of his hair, a couple more wrinkles here and there and a deeper tan painting his skin a more caramel-y shade. But it was still him.

You knew very little about Joel, just that he was your dad’s best friend for as long as you could remember. The periodic phone calls they filled with hour-long football discussions, the christmas cards exchanged and birthday wishes texted. You remember him being around the house a lot before moving out of Texas, although the specifics of it escape your memory.

Now he’s standing right in front of you, firm hands holding you by your arms to make sure you won't lose your balance, and you’re faced with the fact that twenty-two-year-old you might be seeing Joel Miller through a different lens.

Your brain isn’t really doing what it’s meant to do, which in this exact moment would be produce an acceptable response for the six-foot-something man with broad shoulders, dark brooding eyes and a musky, woody scent that made you wanna… No. Focus.

“I am so sorry, I didn’t even see you there… I didn’t think anyone would arrive until five.” you finally reply to his expectant stare.

“No need to be sorry.” He says back, letting go of your arms once he’s sure you’re able to stand on your own. “Well, welcome home. Haven’t seen you since you were running around in mermaid tees”

Yeah, now seemed like the right time to look for a hole in the ground to crawl into.

“Oh, that’s not fair, I grew out of my mermaid phase long before we moved. I was well into boyband territory last time you saw me” you try to joke your way through the conversation, hoping the burning sensation crawling up to your cheeks isn’t as obvious as it feels.

The embarrassment of the moment would have churned your insides for much longer if Joel's mouth hadn't quirked up in a charming smirk, so captivating it was hard to believe he wasn't aware of its effect.

That on its own was already causing some conflicting feelings to boil up inside you, but then he had the nerve to let out a small chuckle he seemed to have been trying to hold back. He was chuckling... Texas’ resident grump was chuckling at your joke, which wasn't even that funny if we’re being fully earnest. Why did you like that thought so much?

You were about to say something, anything really, in a shameless attempt to see if you could earn one more of those, when your mother's approaching voice snapped you out of the haze.

“Are you gonna make me drag you in here, or will you do me the courtesy of helping out... Oh, goodness me! Joel! I didn’t hear you come in, you’re here early.” She switched gears faster than a professional racer. Suddenly, she was back to being the neighborhood’s sweetheart, her voice dripping with that sickly sweet drawl.

“Yes, ma’am. Sorry for the intrusion,” Joel replies, slipping back into his usual, almost stiff demeanor. Whatever new side you had seen of him a second ago was quickly gone. “Hank asked me to drop by a bit earlier to bring him the grill. Said mine’s better suited for the amount of meat he’s buying.”

“Oh, how that man refuses to listen. I told him we didn’t need that much meat. I'm making a whole lotta side dishes,” she whines, waving her hand dismissively. “Well, I guess everyone will be taking leftovers home then. Hank went over to the store to grab me some stuff I was missing. He should be back in a heartbeat.” She glances back at you and, in that passive-aggressive tone that almost anybody else would miss, said, “Well, sweetheart, don’t just stand there. Go help Joel unload his grill and show him what a good host you are.”

It was only your third day back home. Somehow, four years of freedom had made living in this household even more unbearable.

Smile, turn around, walk away. Choose your peace, choose your peace, choose your peace.

Heavy footsteps echo yours all the way to the garage, where Joel's truck waited. You let him walk past you to unlock the tailgate. “Your mom hasn’t changed one bit, has she?” Joel says distractedly while grabbing some metal pieces that looked like parts of his grill.

“Oh, if you only knew.” you say back, trying your best to conceal the sharpness of your tone.

He hands you the cold metal parts, surprisingly lighter than you anticipated. You were convinced he only made you carry them to let you feel useful. “Believe me, I know. Known your mom since way before you were even a thought runnin’ through her mind.”

Right. Because Joel happens to be your parents’ age and over twice your senior. One of the many reasons why getting distracted by the way his muscles flexed while picking up the grill was so beyond wrong.

“You uh… you still live a few houses up the street?” You asked, trying your best to redirect your reckless thoughts.

“Same old house.” He replies with a slightly strained voice from carrying the weight. Once he set it down in the backyard, he turned around to take the pieces you were holding onto. “Renovated some of it, built a new pool out back.”

“That sounds nice, might have to check it out sometime.” You said it without even thinking much. What compelled you to think it was acceptable to tell a man you haven't seen in over a decade you would like to ‘check out’ his pool, was beyond you.

You thought Joel would chuckle it off or maybe not even acknowledge it, which he would’ve been well within his right to do, but he looked up to you from his leaning position next to the grill and said “Yeah, I think you might.”

You couldn’t shake off Joel’s words throughout the whole afternoon.

First chance you got to zone out in between introductions, awkward small talk and getting asked the same thing for the thousandth time, your mind drifted back to Joel’s words.

He was just being polite, right? He has always been a gentleman after all. Maybe it was just the southern hospitality in him, maybe he didn’t even mean it and was just trying to be nice.

Yeah, I think you might

You were probably just reading too much into it, but the way he said it seemed like a lot more than just being polite. Or, and this is a very big possibility, it’s been way too long since you’ve let anyone take you to bed and you’re latching onto the first man who looks your way.

You try to distract your brain with the old lady in front of you instead, who’s been chatting you up about her four cats for over fifteen minutes. She’s surprisingly nice but you think you’d be enjoying her chatter a lot more if your mind wasn’t so distracted.

She notices as much. “You doin’ alright there, sweetheart?”

You brush it off as best as you can. “Oh, I'm alright. I just think the trip and the unpacking is finally catching up to me.” You stand up from the lawn chair you’d been lounging on. “I’ll go grab myself a drink, can I grab you anything?”

She smiles sweetly up at you and replies “No, sweetness, you go ahead.”

The chatter outside dulls out as you close the glass doors behind you. You don’t bother turning on the kitchen overhead lights, relying only on light seeping in from the back yard.

The chill from the fridge hits your chest as you crack the door open to grab a can of coke. Just as you pop the tab, a shadow leaning against the door frame makes you jump.

“Jesus, give a girl a warning.” you say bringing your hand to your chest trying to slow your heartbeat back down.

“Sorry darlin’, didn’t mean to scare you.” Joel's voice comes from the shadow

Darlin’ ? Lord, were you screwed.

You hoped the dim lighting was doing enough to hide the burning red that was probably staining your cheeks already, especially since Joel was pushing off of the door frame and walking over to you.

“Needed a break from the crowd too?” you ask softly, cutting through the quiet.

The corner of his lips curves up in one of his killer smirks and you can already tell that’s gonna be one of your favorite things about him. “You readin’ me like a book.”

You give him a tiny smile and take a sip of your Coke, the cold liquid a welcome distraction. “I thought you’d be manning the grill.”

He grumbles softly, the sound reverberating in his chest. “Hank’s got it covered for now. Figured I’d come check on you.”

You look up at him confused. “Check on me? Why?”

He shrugged, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that made you feel seen in a way you hadn’t felt in a long time. “Just wanted to make sure you’re doing alright. This can’t be easy, coming back after all this time.”

More than the charming smirks or the pet names or the indecipherable jabs, this knocked the air out of your chest. You were so used to everyone telling you how lucky you were, how wonderful your parents were and how great it was they could put you through college, how perfect of a life you had and how easy it seemed for you to deal with it all. You get it, that’s how it looked from the outside and you didn’t blame people for thinking that. But the truth was you had just become shockingly skilled at hiding your struggles, pretending you had everything under control and plastering a big, dazzling smile on your face.

Somehow, in the few hours that Joel has been around you, at least in this past decade, he managed to see right through this smoke screen you’ve been building your entire life to keep people from seeing what’s going on inside.

It leaves you speechless for a second. “Oh, um…” you can’t take your eyes off of him now, far too unconcerned to notice if you’re staring. “It’s been… exhausting and a bit hectic but, you know... I’m alright. Thank you for asking, Joel.” His name slips out of your lips so easily, like you could picture yourself saying it over and over again without ever burning out.

He looks down, almost like he isn’t used to doing this either, like he’s searching for something else to say. Then his hoarse voice breaks through the silence “Well, if you’re not, you know where to find me.”

With one last glance, a lingering one at that, Joel turns back and leaves where he came from. Like he didn’t just tip your entire world out of balance.

And you’re left there in the dark, trying to figure out what the hell this feeling on your chest is and why, on god's green earth, your father’s best friend won’t leave your head.

#joel miller #joel x reader #dbf!joel miller #dbf!joel #tlou #tlou joel #joel miller fic #joel miller x you #Hidden embers

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wolfjackle-creates · 6 months ago

Note

Hi!! I haven't been on Tumblr for a while but I used to read a fic you made out of a prompt (?) Someone else made about Danny who freaked out when he realized the Waynes are the Bats and accidentally shot Bruce(?) And if I'm not mistaken you made a part 2 of it (idr remember if it was a wip or finished) but do you have a masterlist so I can re-read it :D? So sorry if I sound weird (´⌒｀;)

It is absolutely never weird to ask an author about their works!!!! Thanks so much for sending this in.

It's been ages since I've worked on this one, but it's definitely on my short list to get back to. Especially since I'm pretty close to having it finished?

Here's chapter 1 on AO3. And the Subscription Post.

Chapter 2 is limited to Tumblr right now, only two parts currently. Part 1 can be found here.

Currently it's called Want to Hold on and Feel I Belong. However, when I do start updating on AO3 again, I plan to change the name. (I'm just waiting so people who have subscribed are more likely to remember what they're getting an email about.) Mostly I refer to it as my Bad Reveal AU. Though I get that's not a great working name as that's usually reserved for the Fenton parents reacting badly rather than Danny reacting badly.

Also, as a thanks for reminding me that it's been a while since I've posted anything about this fic (or, well, in general), have the next bit!

Here's a random 1.5k.

-----

Having a potential lead so close meant the hours until J’onn’s arrival were spent in prep mode.

Every uniform had to be checked for the slightest damage and upgrades done where possible. Supplies and go-bags were organized so they could leave the moment they had a lead. Fuel levels in every vehicle were checked and topped off where necessary.

And finally, the zeta tube activated and J’onn stepped out. “Good day to all of you. I heard my assistance was needed?”

Bruce went to greet him. “J’onn. Danny’s room is upstairs. Did Clark explain the situation?”

“Yes. He said that your newest ward has density shifting powers and left things behind in his walls and floor before running away a few days ago.”

Bruce nodded sharply. “Follow me. Clark will show you where the items are hidden so you can retrieve them.”

Dick happily zipped up what felt like the hundredth bag he’d had to pack and joined them. “Hey, J’onn. Welcome. How have you been?”

“Greetings, Dick. It has been a long time since our last meeting. I have been well. I want to wish you luck in finding your brother swiftly and easily.”

Dick nodded his thanks. “Same. We’re really hoping he left behind something to help because we haven��t had much luck so far.” Dick pulled out his phone and notified the family of J’onn’s arrival and requested they meet in Danny’s room.

On the way, Bruce and Dick filled J’onn in on the situation. At the implication of government experimentation, he face went hard and he vowed he would help them however he could.

Clark, Jason, and Alfred were already there when the group arrived and the rest weren’t far behind. With everyone present, the room felt crowded.

“Where should I start?” J’onn asked Clark.

“Behind the NASA poster. I think that’s where he keeps the weapons. One of them is an object that looks like it might be the same as, or at least similar to, the weapon that shot Bruce.”

Under Clark’s direction, J’onn removed not just two more energy guns, but also a glowing-green net, a boomerang, a tube of lipstick, what looked like a weird, high-tech thermos, and a wooden baseball bat with a sticker that said “Fenton” on it.

Dick couldn’t help but whistle at the pile. “Damn, he was packing all this?”

“Apparently,” said Damian. But Dick could tell his youngest brother was impressed and mentally reassessing his beliefs of Danny. “Perhaps he is not as helpless as I previously believed.”

“Why’s he got lipstick?” asked Steph as she picked up the tube.

“Don’t!” ordered Bruce even as she opened it and released a laser beam that left a small scorch mark on the ceiling.

She stared in shock before laughing. “Oh, damn! When he comes back, I’m so asking if he could get me one of these. That’s so cool!”

“Can I see that?” asked Barbara.

“Wait until we’re in the cave,” said Bruce with a sigh. Both women grinned at him.

Dick reached down and grabbed the net. Despite the color, it seemed normal enough, maybe a little smoother than most rope he’d handled. He pulled out a pocket knife and was able to slice through one of the ropes easily enough. Jason came over to look at it with him.

“Anything weird about it?” he asked as he reached out to touch it. “Huh, that’s odd.”

“What’s odd about it? Seems pretty normal to me.”

“It just… It feels weird. It almost hurts to touch.” When Dick looked at him sharply, Jason quickly added, “It doesn’t hurt, but it feels like it should. If that makes sense.”

“Feels normal to me.” Dick showed him the break he’d made.

Jason shrugged. “Dunno, then. I just get a weird feeling from it.”

Damian picked up the energy gun, Tim the thermos, and Duke the boomerang when Alfred cleared his throat.

“Before we get distracted, might I remind you that there is more to find? We can bring everything down to the cave to examine them with no more damage to Master Danny’s room.”

Everyone sheepishly put down the things they were holding. Dick bit back a laugh when he noticed Clark push the baseball bat away from himself with his foot.

“So, J’onn,” Clark said. “I think the next area of interest is behind this poster.” He gestured at a poster of the horsehead nebula. Dick had helped Danny find it and hang it up and the kid had talked about nebulae for over an hour as they did. The memory caused his eyes to burn.

From this stash, J’onn pulled some notebooks and two external hard drives, which Barbara took. Dick and Bruce both grabbed a notebook. Dick opened his to the first page.

Journaling is such a stupid idea. I don’t have any time for it but Jazz says I need to get my feelings out. Pointless. So what if I can’t sleep and Skulker attacked me again today during English getting me another detention. Its not my fault! Shit, haven’t done that essay for Lancer. If I miss any more assignments he’s gonna fail me for real.

Everyone knew Danny had been failing before he’d been brought to them, but he’d refused to discuss why. Once he was in school in Gotham, he’d gotten straight A’s. Even if he did ask for the occasional help in English from Jason.

But this raised so many questions. Who was Skulker and why were they attacking Dick’s little brother during English class. He flipped through the pages. Interspersed between journal entries were drawings of schematics. Dick thought he recognized some of the designs as the weapons they’d uncovered.

His eyes caught on an entry that started with a string of curses.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. My parents saw Dani today. In ghost form. They actually managed to hit her. Only her second visit and I couldn’t keep her safe. Some big brother dad cousin whatever I am. I did get her to the Far Frozen. Frostbite fixed her up. Taught me what to do if it happens again, too. And gave me the medicines and supplies to do it. I’m so glad I have friends in the Zone now. It makes it so much easier. I can’t get the image of Dani’s blood staining my hands out of my mind. Going to Tuck’s tonight. I can’t be around my parents right now.

Stomach dropping, he flipped a few more pages until he found one with a photo. It was a grinning Danny with white hair and wearing a jumpsuit standing on a curved balcony. Behind him, spire buildings rose into the air, many rounded in a way not often found on Earth.

Clockwork took me to Mars today! Holy shit it is so cool. Just, everything. We went back to when they were thriving and I had to stop an invasion. But that’s not important. Everyone here can go intangible despite being alive. Some of their buildings don’t even have doors because they’d be pointless! And the plants and animals are all so different, too. Clockwork helped me find some books on Martian history and biology and evolution. He’s also gonna show me where the Martians exist in the Zone so I can learn their language. Maybe one day I can go to Krypton or Tamaran as well?

Dick stared back at the picture. It did have that distinctive feel of wrong that extraterrestrial landscapes always had. He swallowed. “Uh, J’onn?”

“Yes, Dick?”

“Um, Danny. This is his journal. He said he went to Mars. Before… Just, before. He’s got a picture. Is this real?” He handed the photo to J’onn who hesitated a moment before taking it.

J’onn froze as he stared at the simple image. “I… Yes. This is my home. How…?”

Dick shrugged and wished he had an answer for the last of the Martians. “Someone called Clockwork brought him there apparently. To stop some sort of invasion? He didn’t discuss that much. He was too interested in the planet and people to talk about what he did. He was hoping to visit Krypton and Tamaran, too. Also said something about Martians existing somewhere he called the Zone. He wanted to meet them to learn the language.”

The look on J’onn’s face at the mention of other Martians existing somewhere was heartbreaking. Maybe Dick shouldn’t have said anything? When Danny came home, would he maybe want to talk to J’onn about Mars?

With clear reluctance, J’onn handed the picture back. “This is your brother in the photo?”

“Yeah. I mean, Danny usually has black hair and blue eyes, but that’s him. Do you recognize him?”

J’onn nodded. “Of course. He is the Omen. His coming foretells death and destruction which he will then try to avert. I know what invasion he is speaking of, it is, was, taught in our history books. He saved all of Mars that day. We thought him a god.”

Dick’s mouth fell open. His little brother? A god?

-----

Did you enjoy your little surprise update tonight? Let me know what you think!

#dpxdc #bad reveal au #wolf writes #dick is trying to be a good brother #but he keeps feeling like he's failing #(he's not he just thinks he is)#i hope my vague descriptions of mars #are accurate enough to hold up #the door thing isn't based in any sort of canon #idk if there were any buildings on mars that eschewed doors #but i feel like it'd make sense if they did?

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ivaalo · 1 month ago

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Introduction

This is a fan analysis about the results of 24 polls posted on Tumblr by the user @zeldatourney. Huge thanks to them to have organized this tourney.

(Keep in mind my first language isn't English, so I might make some minor mistakes)

This is a long post with multiple graphs, so I'm putting a "Read more" button here!

For each game, the question asked was "How high does [game] rank?" with 7 answers possible to choose:

S tier (One of the greatest)

A tier (A favorite)

B tier (I like it)

C tier (Meh)

D tier (I'd rather play something else)

F tier (AWFUL)

I haven't played this game

The poll started on the 2nd of December 2024 and ended the 9th of December 2024.

Disclaimer: This is not a representation of the Zelda community as a whole, but a result of people who saw and voted for the polls between those previously quoted dates.

For the rest of this post, I will simplify each game's name by its abbreviations. For example, "A Link To The Past" will be named "ALTTP". The polls didn't specify if it contains the original games or both the original games and the remakes. They will be named as such:

[TLOZ] The Legend of Zelda

[AOL] Adventure of Link

[ALTTP] A Link to the Past

[LA] Link's Awakening (DX) (+ the unnamed 2019 remake)

[OOT] Ocarina of Time (3D)

[MM] Majora's Mask (3D)

[OOS] Oracle of Seasons

[OOA] Oracle of Ages

[FS] Four Swords (Anniversary Edition)

[TWW] The Wind Waker (HD)

[FSA] Four Swords Adventures

[TMC] The Minish Cap

[TP] Twilight Princess (HD)

[PH] Phantom Hourglass

[ST] Spirit Tracks

[SS] Skyward Sword (HD)

[ALBW] A Link Between Worlds

[HW] Hyrule Warriors (Legend / Definitive Edition)

[TFH] Tri Force Heroes

[BOTW] Breath of the Wild

[COH] Cadence of Hyrule

[AOC] Hyrule Warriors: Age of Calamity

[TOTK] Tears of the Kingdom

[EOW] Echoes of Wisdom

Collected data

Each poll being independent from each other, the number of votes varies from one poll to another.

For each games, I added the percentage (as picked up from the HTML for a better precision). The result is either 99.999, 100 or 100.001, so I sometimes cheated to add or remove 0.001 somewhere. Tumblr doesn't give you access to the exact numbers of vote per option.

So before ranking the games, I have to show you first what games are the most played. Adding all answers and doing:

Played (%) = 100 - "I haven't played this game" (%)

I'll use colours to differentiate 2D games (in terms of gameplay) to 3D games. I'll also highlight spin-off games and multiplayer games.

Here are the games played by more than 75% of players:

We can already see a huge pattern. All the 3D games are there. And the only 2D Zelda game to be played by 75% of players is ALBW. BOTW and OOT are the most played games of the sample, as those were huge turning points and both cultural and commercial success.

We can also notice the difference of 5% between the least played 3D game (MM) and the most played 2D game (ALBW).

Let's continue to look at the other played games:

EOW is most likely low as it's the most recent game, at this time, but also because it's not a 3D game. And the hype train was low compared to TOTK. (3 months of anticipation compared to 4 years)

And finally, the multiplayer games are the least played games, excluding COH. Also worth noting that all the spin-off games cited can also be played with another player, but it wasn't the main focus of the communication. COH being a musical tactical rogue-lite only appealed to a specific part of Zelda fans.

If these polls contained the CD-i Zelda games, Link's Crossbow Training and Tingle games, the score would probably be under COH, but we never know!

I'll keep these colours as labels, to recognize them better in the next images.

Alright. Time to share the ranking. Here is the global result, sorted by release date in North America:

It's kind of a lot to see! Overall, the games are pretty liked. So first, let's take a look at the disliked games:

Please note that the X-axis was zoomed, so we can see the result better.

We can already notice that AOL makes a huge contrast. As this game is considered as the black sheep of the franchise because of how different it is, its reputation mostly came from the difficulty of that game.

Almost a factor of 0.5 divides the first disliked game to the second. TFH the second disliked and the original TLOZ follows.

ALBW is the least disliked, with under 1%, counting D tier and F tier.

But notice the F-tier (red) line. It varies a lot, so let's take a look at the most hated games:

Yep, TOTK is third, this time. As I don't personally think it's awful, it definitively disappointed many by being too close to BOTW and having a lot of issues BOTW didn't have.

Nobody voted "F tier" for ALTTP nor OOT. Same for OOS but keep in mind this game was the least voted one too!

Alright, enough for the hate! Let's look at the most appreciated Zelda games.

Yep, the majority of Zelda fans like 22.5 out of 24 of the games! (TFH being exactly 50, I half-counted it!)

TWW is being almost unanimously appreciated, with almost 97%, and the second one to get this score is TMC, a 2D game, with more than 96%!

You can notice some gaps, like between ST and COH, and then between the Oracle games and TOTK.

Now let's look at the most loved games:

5 3D games are in the top 5, except for SS and TOTK. TMC is very close to beat BOTW and remains the most loved 2D Zelda game. Notice how SS and TOTK make a huge gap between the game before and the game after, like voters use them as references. The two Hyrule Warriors games are, in a funny way, between the Oracle ones.

Let's add a step forward and look at the S tier only:

Nothing changes for the top 9 games. However, EOW seems more nuanced and is less considered as best than TOTK.

Final results

And finally, let's rank them using the Majority Judgment:

The Majority Judgment was created to propose a more democratic way to vote. Each candidate has multiple mentions, and you (the elector) must attribute one mention to each candidate. Since this poll uses this exact method of vote, I decided to rank them all using the Majority Judgment. To count using the Majority Judgment, you must focus on the 50% axis, and look at the category that crosses it (more than 50%). That gives you the tier, and the best tier wins.

When two or more candidates get the same tier, there are multiple ways to rank:

The first way is to put a line at the middle and see which line has the higher percentage. (Less precise but more simple)

The second way is to divide it into multiple tiers by doing the first method again and again until each candidates has a unique tier. (More precise but less simple)

But since I didn't want to compare B++++ to B+++-, I used the first method. It's my democracy and I do whatever I want!

Just keep in mind that depending on the way to count these games may be swapped:

ALTTP and LA

OOA and PH

AOC and HW

SO, for the data. Top 5 is TWW, MM, TP, OOT and BOTW. To be honest, I imagined MM to be a more nuanced game, or at least more controversial, since it has a unique concept.

The A tier only contains 2D games, except SS. TMC, ST and ALBW are the favourite 2D games. ALTTP and LA are always very close. The last one of the tier is EOW.

Only mainline games are in the S and A tier.

The first game of the B tier is a spin-off game, followed by TOTK.

TFH was one vote away from being in the B tier. And no surprise, AOL is the last one.

To sum up, according to the participants who voted for these polls:

S tier

🥇 The Wind Waker

🥈 Majora's Mask

�� Twilight Princess

⭐ Ocarina of Time

⭐ Breath of the Wild

A+ tier

The Minish Cap

Spirit Tracks

A- tier

A Link Between Worlds

Skyward Sword

A Link to the Past

Link's Awakening

Echoes of Wisdom

B+ tier

Cadence of Hyrule

Tears of the Kingdom

Oracle of Seasons

Oracle of Ages

Phantom Hourglass

B- tier

Age of Calamity

Hyrule Warriors

Four Swords Adventures

Four Swords

The Legend of Zelda

C+ tier

Tri Force Heroes

C- tier

Adventure of Link

Thank you for reading! ~

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fuckyeahgoodomensfanfic · 11 months ago

Text

Good Omens Fic Rec: Big Name Feelings

FANDOM AU! • Crowley is a BNF fic writer, and Aziraphale is a lurking artist who might be just a little parasocially in love with him. How they ever became friends is beyond him, but here they are: One month out from Prophet Con, and Crowley is asking him to be his boyfriend. Just for the weekend, of course.

Length: 103,997 words

AO3 Rating: Explicit / Spice Level 🔥🔥🔥

Best for: Safe in Public, Human AU, Slow Burn, Fake Relationship, Pick-me-up

Triggers: None

Read it here, fic by ghostrat

*Minor Spoilers* It's here! The finale of one of the most entertaining and immersive fanworks that I have ever experienced is finally upon us! I feel like most of you who follow me here are aware of this fanfic or have read it. However, for those who haven't or might come across this post later: I'm begging you to read this one. Buckle up; it's a long post today.

So, if you're not aware, this fanfic involves writer Crowley and fan artist Aziraphale. Crowley, being ace, seeks a boyfriend to shield him from unwanted attention during an upcoming convention. Aziraphale, smitten, agrees to be the fake boyfriend. This Arrangement is sure to work out exactly as planned!

Every one of the author's stories feels cinematic to me. The worlds are always so real and immersive, but this one, in particular, will have you feeling like you're actually watching the story unfold in real life. Some of that is achieved through embedded media like chats, artwork, and Tumblr posts, bringing a sense of reality to these conversations. The rest comes from really rich prose. You'll flow through it very easily, yet deeply.

The use of fandom and a convention as the backdrop for this fic was, to be honest, genius. I've seen attempts before, but none captured the spirit quite like this one. The fandom lore for The Nice and Accurate Prophecy (the in-universe fandom they're in) was rich enough for us to fully grasp the shape and feel of why they loved it so much, yet it never impedes the ongoing story. This story perfectly captured what it's like to be a fan: how friendships develop, how ideas and fan theories are freely discussed, the passion for a shared topic. The con, in particular, will fill anyone who has ever attended a fan convention with a strong dose of nostalgia and love. Oh, and having them in their 50s? Thank you! There is no age limit to fandom!

Having Aziraphale as the artist and Crowley the writer was not the most obvious choice, but it's one that worked amazingly well for the story! Crowley struggles with words and expressing his feelings in real life. However, in stories, he can build his own world and express whatever emotions are on his mind. Aziraphale, who does not wish to draw attention to himself in real life, expresses himself through his bold and beautiful artwork. His specialization in traditional, physical artwork is so fitting for him, though he's not unwilling to try new tech. There is a scene where they stumble upon some street art that Aziraphale had done. I teared up at that scene, and it's not even angsty! Just the casualness of it, how it's not Aziraphale but Crowley who boldly leads them to it, how Aziraphale doesn't sing his own praises. He's not self-deprecating, but he doesn't celebrate his work. He's still learning that he has value that's worth celebrating. At least now he has Crowley to teach him to be proud of himself.

They are both beautifully written characters. It's a real testament to the skill of the author to bring these characters into such a different reality and have them be unmistakably Aziraphale and Crowley. Sure, they're updated for the time and setting, but their souls are still the angel and demon we know and love. This setting is an amazing way to explore the different sides of their personalities. Crowley's asexuality, in particular, was one of the best depictions I've ever read. It brought a new level of understanding to me, and I'm sure many of you will feel a kinship with him. Really pay attention to what's being said here, there's some really deep and insightful passages that are worth analyzing. Like this moment, which may have been a subconscious thought, but again speaks to how deeply the author understands the characters.

This was such an amazing experience as a fan. I've never had a fic feel like this much of an event before. Every chapter drop was so exciting; I never knew what exactly to expect. And now, with the end being over 100k words?? Where did that word count come from! That's insane! I'm sad to leave this iteration, but I'm so excited for what's to come next. So please, if you haven't read this, give it a try. It's such a impressive work, so much time and effort was put into this and you can tell. It's not only a love letter to Good Omens, but one to fandom and fanspaces as well. Thank you, thank you, thank you for this journey

There are some explicit scenes towards the end, but they are all marked and skippable, so I'd say you're perfectly fine reading this in public.

Edit from after actually seeing the finale: no I’m not tearing up it’s just really dusty in this room. I’m being so normal rn 🥹🥹🥹

Read it here, fic by ghostrat

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antiphilosophia · 2 years ago

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Crowley's pre-fall name is BARAQIEL (THEORY)

THIS POST MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS OR RATHER CLUES FOR GOOD OMENS SEASON 2 CONTENTS, PROCEED WITH CAUTION 🤍

Very well. Who doesn't love the Crowley is the Archangel Raphael theory (I am certainly of those people who do). During my first watch of Good Omens S2 I was even somehow almost confident that that was the case.

However, my second, more careful, viewing of this lovely (but equally heartbreaking) season made me change my mind, likely for good. In episode 4, Furfur's book "Demon's Guide To Angelic Beings Who Walk The Earth" shows us a name of a certain angel Baraqiel. (see photo below) Knowing Good Omens that can hardly be a coincidence.

Unfortunately, the very text is quite unreadable. One thing, other than the name, which is pretty clear is the subheading "Angel of the Sky" and since the episode 1 lets us take a look at how Crowley did indeed take part in creation of what is to be seen in the night sky, one can hardly find that entirely non-fitting. One other sentence I was (at least I think) able to read is "Often draped in red."

(On a different note but certainly worth noticing are scribbles that generally just roast Crowley – his suspiciousness, hair and name (though I am not absolutely sure of the latter) "His hair is bad!" Wow, Furfur really does hate Crowley.)

Then there is something written above the name of Baraqiel, unfortunately in none of the picture frames does it get a bit readable. I wonder though, couldn't it be "former"? Since it comes precisely after mention of Crowley to whom should one report on Aziraphale.

Crowley is very powerful. Dominion

A word that is not exactly readable but can be deduced from its placement (it is situated just as Aziraphale's "Principality") is Baraqiel's rank – Dominion Angel. It should be noted here that I very much lack proper knowledge of either Jewish or Christian mythology and I would hate to provide any incorrect claims. I therefore think it is better for me not to overly state things, even more so since everyone can look into it on their own and figure out what that might mean for our beloved demon. What I will say, however, is that they are (as I understand it) very powerful and, placed within the 2nd triad in the angel hierarchy, ranked higher than the Archangels. This would go well along with the emphasis that was in my opinion laid on Crowley's powers quite a lot this season.

For example: "A miracle of enormous power happened last night. The kind of miracle only the mightiest of archangels could've performed," said Shax to Crowley, to which he replied: "How'd you know I didn't do it?" He didn't get an answer.

What I think (and I may be very wrong, obviously) is that a miracle of this vastness wouldn't have happened simply because of a regular angel and a regular demon did together half a miracle each. What is also worth noticing is that the tool with which Crowley created the Nebula is the same as the one he used to temporarily stop time at the end of season 1 right before Satan's arrival. So much to the size of his powers.

Baraqiel, lightning of God. Fallen angel

Finally, to Baraqiel himself. My lack of knowledge concerning this matter still stands and frankly I don't even know where to find valid information about angels and such on the internet. Baraqiel should, however, stand for "lightning of God" and is also regarded as the angel of lightning. In season 2 there are (as far as I remember) two occasions where Crowley is put in correlation with lightning. (1) His poor anger management issues in episode 1 and (2) his not at all better matchmaking in episode 3 ("I haven't done weather in ages"). Furthermore, Baraqiel is considered to be the one who taught astrology to people. Nevertheless, what points to Crowley and Baraqiel being one even more is that Baraqiel is indeed a fallen angel.

•

So... That is probably it. I usually tent to theorize about stuff in quiet, in fact, this is the first time I've used Tumblr for anything other than reading Neil Gaiman's posts. I didn't even think that I would actually post it but then I've searched on Twitter, TikTok and here on Tumblr if anyone else has already come up with this theory. The only post I could find (hopefully I haven't missed anything) was by @valaza_04 on Twitter (click here) where they refer to the same frame shot as I do here.

Now I know, we are still recovering from heartbreaking (but if you ask me, absolutely amazing) finale and the main thing currently on our minds is figuring out why would Aziraphale choose as he did and the many wonderful theories that come with it. However, considering the utterly virulent look that Metatron shot at Crowley before walking out of the bookshop with Aziraphale and also his "Well, [Crowley] always did want to go his own way. Always asking damn fool questions, too." makes me think that he absolutely does not care for Crowley and whichever angel he was before the Fall. And I reckon it won't remain unnoticed in season 3 and might even be really important (or that is just me wishing for more pre-fall Crowley scenes). Hence I decided that I will post this. And it doesn't matter if no one will see this in the end, it was quite fun to write. However, if there is someone who will read this all the way through, I hope they will accept my apology for the mistakes I have most possibly made (English is not my first language) and also for the ridiculous length this post has come to gather. It turns out, I am just as chatty of a writer as I am speaker.

Well maybe I will come around to write one more post about this theory, only with a proper research this time. Till then thank you and, please, support this season by streaming as much as you can so we can have season 3 of this masterpiece of a show. And be kind to those bringing it to us in your comments regarding the ending, even though it is very frustrating and heart-shattering, it is also maybe the best ending we could have hoped for with the prospects of season 3.

Thank you for letting me talk my heart out, Tumblr.

#good omens #good omens season 2 #good omens spoilers #go2 #go s2 #crowley #pre fall crowley #crowley's angel name #good omens 2 #david tennant #neil gaiman #aziraphale #good omens theory #baraqiel

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holybibly · 8 months ago

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Bunnies, please spend a little time with this message, because there are things I want to talk to you about.

First of all, I'm fine. I'm so sorry for worrying so many people yesterday. Sorry if I haven't replied to your DMs yet, there are a lot of them and I need time to reply to all the bunnies.

Please do not worry. Your experiences are not worth me (don't even think about arguing about it), nothing in your life can be more important than you and your family.

Now let's talk about serious matters. I did a lot of thinking last night and it was a hard night, I won't lie. I am a very sensitive person and most of the time I accumulate emotions until they just drown me. The last few weeks have been stressful for me with work and I haven't had much time to relax or get inspired, but when things finally started to pick up, this message was the last straw. It really hurt me.

I hope situations like this don't happen again

Now, I want to talk about comfort and other things on the blog.

1. Nicknames. For all the followers of my blog there is a special nickname "bunny". This is a special nickname associated with one of my works - Pretty Flushed. This is my first popular piece, it is a unique idea and this is what makes my blog my own. From the moment I posted this, it became natural to call my followers 'bunny', as everyone who asked me questions or wrote to me personally signed themselves as 'bunny'.

Now I want to ask you - are you comfortable with this nickname? Did you feel anxious or uncomfortable when I called you that? I don't want you to feel that way, so if it bothers you, let me know and I'll stop.

2. The question of trust. As I wrote earlier, unfortunately I cannot be sure whether I am communicating with minors or not.Because the issue of age deception is very acute.

Neither Tumblr, nor Wattpad, nor YouTube, nor even Gmail can verify your age on a reliable, documented basis when you create a personal account. The only way we can find out is if the user reports it to us. And this is where the question of trust comes in. Can I trust you? Should I keep doing this? These questions are constantly on my mind. It makes me anxious and panicky. But also, how can we live in a society where you are afraid every day? My blog is a safe place for adults and conscious people, but I can't guarantee that somewhere among my 2.8k followers there aren't underage teenagers. Because I just don't know who's telling me the truth and who's not.

If any of my bunnies find out about underage accounts, please let me know so that we can make the issue public.

There is also the issue of anonymity. You can call me shameless, but I am not ashamed of my desires or thoughts, you all literally live in my head, but I know that there are people who are not ready to talk publicly about their desires and dreams, here are also people who are simply afraid to do so because someone might find out and use it against them. We all have different lives and we all have different life and social circumstances, so I understand all the people who are not ready, who are afraid or who are ashamed of their thoughts and dreams.

I will not block the possibility to talk to me anonymously and I leave it up to you. You can also DM me with your request if you don't feel comfortable with me posting the answer for everyone to see.

3. Communication. Bunnies, communication is important to me; it's true. I always want to know how you feel, if you are comfortable, and what you think of my work and of me. But unfortunately, sometimes my questions remain unanswered, and I begin to doubt if everything is going well. There is no greater fear for me than that you do not feel comfortable with me.

I don't know why, but it seems to me that many people avoid communicating with me. Some people think I'm rude or abrupt, and I don't seem to fit in with the general happy atmosphere. I am most comfortable with my bunnies. I enjoy playing with them, flirting with them, or just talking to them, and I'm very lucky to have made great friends, but I still feel isolated in a way.

It's weird; people always tell me that they've heard of me or that I have some kind of bunny fandom of my own, but I'm nothing more than a normal person. I will never lie to you and try to be better than I am. I am who I am, and I have no intention of creating a false persona in order to be loved. If I'm not right for you, don't waste your time.

I always tell you that you can come to me with all the questions in the world. I will never refuse to help you. Communication is the key to success, don't you think? I know I can be intense, and the way I communicate on the blog is unique, but that is how I see this space—without templates, labels, bias, shaming, judgement, and other things. This is a place where you can be yourself.

So let's communicate more and get to know each other better to make our lives a little easier.

I may decide to add a few more things here later, but these are the issues that concern me most at the moment.

Also, in terms of updates, the planned update for this weekend for full-length work will be postponed until next week.

Unholy hours have been on the air since the weekend.

I love and appreciate you very much, my bunnies, and I hope I have been able to share some of my thoughts with you. We will work on improving the atmosphere in our little naughty house.

#sugar and sin #bunny questions

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byslantedlight · 9 months ago

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Hello OFMD Tumblr thingie, and all the amazing people who are out there, and especially the ones who've been making all the posts that have made me so happy over the last few months. 💖💖💖 First and most importantly, thank you, thank you, thank you, to anyone who sees this!

This is my first post to Tumblr (probably pretty obvious from my huge lack of Tumblr sophistication! And the length of this post...) If you don't count reblogging things that I wanted to be able to find again. I've braved up to comment thank you to people a couple of times, but that's been it so far. I must admit it all looks a bit scary from this side of the glass, even though I can also see how friendly people mostly are.

But OFMD fandom is big! And you've been here a long time! I loved Series 1 when I watched it, and knew I wanted to watch out for Series 2, but it wasn't until I re-watched it when the Series 2 trailer came out on BBC iPlayer that I fell veeeery in love with it! And by then you were already here, and there was a language and debates about things I'd barely even noticed, and it's mostly me staring with big eyes thinking wow, and sometimes huh? and... well, you know. Plus there's trying to work out Tumblr, which I definitely haven't actually managed to do yet, and possibly never will, so... I decided to just jump in and post summat. Even just rambling, which is a bit of a specialty of mine... I mean - what's the worst that can happen, right? 😬

So... how come now? Well, I can't make art or gorgeous screenshots or gifs. I do write, but I'm still hanging out to get the right voices in my keyboard... I know them when I hear them, but you've gotta get the right rhythm going, and I'm not quite there yet, I don't think. Although really, I should probably just sit down and try (and stop waiting for work to shut up and give me time - I should be a pirate and take it!)

Anyway (told you about the rambling...) what I'm mostly doing apart from rewatching the eps on a constant loop is reading the fic. I'm picking it according to kudos on AO3, and according to recs that I see on Tumblr, and it's occured to me that alot of the stories I'm loving must have been recced looong ago, and that newbies like me totally missed them, and so maybe I could do my own recs, even if they are of older stories, and someone might find them useful. You know, if I work out how anyone else might ever see my posts. 😁 And if people aren't put off by my probably age-revealing use of emojis. (But I am entirely age-appropriate for Ed and Stede, and if I had to look up what zaddy meant too, well, that just means I matched Rhys Darby's expression in the bts, right? 🤨)

So it's not much, but I'd like to contribute even just a tiny bit to OFMD fandom in return for everything it gives me, so... yeah. That's my plan. I'll start in a bit, but this post is probably already too long since it's just rambling. And kind of dull. I should probably have said tl:dr at the top, shouldn't I, but then maybe anyone who actually saw this wouldn't, so... See, I kind of live in hope. 😊

Okay. Tags next, right? ... ack ... why won't it let me create new tags instead of just using ones from the drop down...? Well, those will have to do for now... maybe someone who sees this will have mercy and tell me how? I'll just be over here being a slight failure at Tumblr... And if you've made it this far (how long is an acceptable post over here?! Not this long, I don't think...) - thank you hugely for just that, and may your dreams be OFMD and joyous!

#ofmd #ofmd fanfic

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bat-stuff · 2 years ago

Note

Damian Wayne headcanons: “Totally can make girls swoon as long as he’s not standing next to Damian (we’ll talk about Damian’s body and pretty boy features in another post)”, can we get that post discussing Damian’s pretty boy features and how he most likely gets the most people coming after him thx to his perfect mix of Talia and Bruce’s genes (Talia’s brown skin color, her green cat shaped eyes w/long eyelashes, Bruce’s face (tho I headcanon the older dami gets the more he physically resembles Talia until the resemblance is uncanny, or he grows to become a perfect match of both his parents facial features), hairline (unless dami grows his hair out a little more in the future), the Wayne charm etc.)????????? Also how the others (Collin, Jon, & Billy) attractive looks attract others as well?????

Honestly, I totally forgot that Tumblr existed for a while so thess are way overdue. But here we go.

Also, excuse Damian's for being hella long but I've had a lot of time to think about Damian

Ok I also have a feeling that I haven't mentioned this before ...

All my content for these boys is aged up, which means they aren't a gaggle of 12 year olds. I'm imagining them between the ages of 16 and 18 unless otherwise stated.

DAMIAN WAYNE, JON KENT, COLIN WILKES, AND BILLY BATSON FEATURES HEADCANONS

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DAMIAN WAYNE

Damian has green eyes, I know people will argue and say he has blue but his eyes are definitely a dark mossy green.

Though they definitely have the capability of changing color in the sunlight, they light up and turn into lighter shades depending on the lighting and time of day, but personally I think they are a dark mossy green.

I don't want to spend too much time on Damian's eyes but for example, in Gotham they tend to be darker because of the atmosphere, whereas when Damian goes to see Jon in Metropolis, they'll be lighter shades because of the sunlight

He 100% has Talia's eyes, and facial structure. I can see him having more of Bruce's features, but his facial and body structure is closer to Talia.

Strong jawline but softer than Bruce's. Damian looks a bit like Bruce but not as sharp, so to speak. His face is slimmer and more rounded, his eyes are more pointed and are sharper but Bruce's are wider.

Bruce is ruggedly handsome, Damian is flawlessly pretty.

Damian's body structure is closer to Talia's too.

I don't see Damian really being able to pack on muscle mass in the future like Bruce. As Damian gets older his body structure looks a lot like Dick's, he's very well fitted.

He does have nice biceps tho. To the point where when he moves you could feel the muscle flex underneath if you were touching them

(If you haven't experienced this personally with anyone, I highly suggest it. Biceps are hot.)

He doesn't have thick thighs like Jason, but he's still very muscular. Sometimes it's hard to tell unless he's flexing, he's not busting out of his clothes, but he is quite strong.

On to other features, Damian isn't white.

I think we've all established it by now but just to make sure.

His skin is a lot like Talia's, light olive skin. Though, in the summer, if Damian gets even the smallest ounce of light he tans instantly. I'm the winters in Gotham, one might mistake him for white because his skin is lighter but once he's put next to Tim it's easy to see that he's not.

Damian has perfect eyebrows. Nothing else needs to accompany this. His eyebrows are flawless.

Ok, so hair. Another thing I've seen some disagreement on.

I believe Damian's hair is Black, like Bruce. But unlike Bruce it's not coarse and heavy. It's light, wispy and soft. When he was younger at the manor he used to gel it up, but now that he's older he's come to realize that it'll just go wherever he wants and it will be fine.

Damian's voice, which I've kinda already covered, is wide range. He can sound like a little girl or Corpse. He generally leans towards a deeper voice, it vibrates a little so if he's talking while you're touching him in some way you can feel the grumble.

He hums a lot. Not musically, but in response to things. He's taken up a habit of humming into words, like saying "mkay" instead of "okay".

I strongly believe that Damian doesn't laugh, he chuckles. Deep, hearty chuckles that make anyone whose near stop and listen to him laugh. He also snickers and sharply exhales through his nose to make that snorting/snickering sound, I don't know what it's called but I think you can guess what I'm talking about.

Damian doesn't have veiny hands, sorry to disappoint. But his hands are very soft for being a swordsman. His skin is very smooth and he doesn't have many imperfections. No birthmarks because of the Artificial Womb, courtesy of Talia.

Not me going back to his eyes, but he squints a lot. Out of confusion, anger, just looking at something, disgust. His eyes generally take the shape of siren eyes, so it doesn't look unnatural that he gives people sharp looks unintentionally.

His lips are on the thinner side but are still soft. Boy definitely uses chapstick. He doesn't have a big mouth or a little one, he's very well proportioned.

Probably has a plump bottom lip tho

Many know this but he frowns a lot. It's not because he's upset, but it's his thinking face. His eyebrows scrunch together when he's doing this too. If he's thinking about something unpleasant his nose with wrinkle. When Damian's thinking hard he looks very confused and upset.

Nicely shaped abs. He has a long torso

HELLA PRETTY SHOULDERS AND BACK MUSCLES MY GUY

Smells like pine needles and sandalwood. Definitely a rich person scent that's strong but not overpowering.

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BILLY BATSON

Figured I would start with Billy because if we're ranking them, he's the second prettiest.

Personal opinion but you'll see what I mean.

So Billy's eyes are brown. Like a dark, chocolate brown.

Some people might say "Well in the dcau and Young Justice they're blue" but I have a personal belief that they're brown. How many blue eyed superheroes and children of superheroes are there? Too many. They're brown.

In the sun they turn into a dark honey color

DEFINITELY has light freckles across his cheeks, I mean really light tho. You would have to be pretty close to him to see them

Billy's hair is soft, and medium brunette.

it's sort of straight, but kinda wavy

the length of it depends on the season, for instance in the summer he has it cut shorter in the back. But in the winter he lets it grow out a bit more

The skinniest of the bunch but it suits him

He's not SKINNY tho, I mean he's being compared to Superboy, Batman's son, and a Gym Rat Gothamite, cut the little guy some slack

Billy has very slender, lean build. Most likely doesn't have Damian-level muscle but he's still easy on the eyes shirtless

Billy has a a bit of a lopsided smile that sometimes expresses laziness

Teeth smile 100%

He has that sort of soft handsome look

Where Damian is very sharp and defined Billy is smooth

He has softer cheek bones (squishy cheeks) and a defined yet round jawline

Billy has thinner lips

I'm not sure how to describe them honestly

Very calm deep voice, deepest voice of the bunch, adding on to this I imagine that he likes to sing and is the best vocalist in the group

His laugh, contrast to Damian, is boisterous and very open mouthed. He's loud and sometimes it sounds like a cackle, but most of the time Billy has a charming laugh that fills the room

Billy almost smells sugary with a hint of linen. Like warm bed sheets but they were washed next to a bakery.

(He once accidentally stole Mary's Japanese Cherry Blossom lotion and now has this sort of addiction to cherry scented things)

Honestly, Billy smells like a lot of things all the time, so the best description is that he smells very warm and sweet

Boy is part of the super soft hands club

Long. Freaking. Eyelashes.

Like, they might tickle you when you kiss him long

(This isn't a romance headcannon but he would be a great person to kiss, OOOH NEXT POST IDEA)

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JON KENT

Ok so on to Jonathan

So our boys eyes are a sky blue

An open sky in the country, and where some eyes have grey tones, Jon's don't

Dark, black hair that has a loose curl to it

A lot of times it hangs down in his eyes so he developed a tendency to play with his hair

He has one of those headbands that comb/hold back your hair, and he wears it a lot

Wouldn't wear it around the guys, there's no way Colin wouldn't make a little fun of him for it. Damian honestly wouldn't care and Billy would probably buy one once he sees Jon wear it

He has pretty fair skin, but tans often due to being in the Sun at the farm a lot.

Has tan lines on his wrist and ankles from bracelets, he's that kind of guy

I mentioned in a previous post that Jon isn't really big on sweating so our boy probably always smells very clean

His scent is lemony with a hint of linen.

Not that the other boys don't smell clean, Jon is just less musky

Jon us bulkier than Damian and Billy, but smaller than Colin.

Another member of the super soft hands club, as well as the pretty shoulders club

he has a soft voice, but it also holds a lot of energy. He talks fast

the highest pitched voice of the bunch, and for the longest time was slightly squeaky.

lovely sounding voice, can't sing for shit tho. Hes a bit tone deaf.

has DEFINED dimples, the king of dimples

always has a content look on his face, looks and is incredibly friendly

I have a feeling Jon doesn't have completely straight teeth, but still a beautiful, toothy smile

he isn't a mouth breather but has a habit of staring at people with his mouth open a bit.

kinda like a goldfish

lip biter (In the cute/hot way)

(ok so my best comparison for Jon is Dave Lizewski from Kick-Ass. I feel like they would have similar energy. I feel like he and Jon would sound similar as well.)

Toned abs. He doesn't even try, they just happen

nice arms, not super huge but you can visibly see the muscle

His entire vibe is secretly buff nerd boy

loves his glasses, only takes them off when he suits up

they're the round-ish square ones with the iron rim (Dave Lizewski glasses)

sharp jawline, but has a square face

Pouty, thick lips

Jon has fairly big hands, and skinny fingers.

Slightly veiny hands

Has never had a lick of acne in his life so incredibly clean face

Definitely a pretty boy

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COLIN WILKES

Colin is definitely the scraggiliest of the 4

Silly ginger boy

Has straight-ish hair but probably got a perm at some point and it kinda worked for him so he's recently discovered that if he puts stuff in his hair and takes care of it right he has some natural wave

Puppy dog brown eyes that look like melted chocolate

Used to have freckles but they faded as he got older so you only see them if you're extra close

Colin had the widest smile of the group

Never had braces because he couldn't afford it so his teeth are a bit uneven

But they were significantly worse when he was a middle schooler so he's glad they figured themselves out a bit

BIG BOY

THE BIGGEST BOY

This dude has the broadest shoulders of the group, the thickest thighs, the meatiest arms.

Colin is built like a tank

Has the veiniest hands, and they never go away. Just constant veins

Is ALWAYS smirking/smiling.

Has a look on his face that always makes it seem like he'd done something bad and he's proud of it

Obviously he hasn't but it somehow lands him in trouble 9/10 times

Colin is the palest of the group, not just because he roasts like a turkey in the son but because he obviously lives in Gotham, where sunlight doesn't exist

Like Billy, his lips are on the thinner side, but they're NEVER chapped. Loves chapstick, probably would eat it

Colin has a fairly round face, when he was younger he had huge gigantinormous ears, but by 15 he had grown into them

If any of the boys had a glow up it was Colin, he went from Kiddo to Daddy within a summer

Smells like grass and mahogany. Also lysol. Sometimes leather. It depends on what time of day it is.

In the morning, it's lysol and leather because that's when he goes to the gym. But after he showers it's mahogany and like Irish spring. But by the end of the day, for some reason he smells like grass and no one can figure out why

Colin's just kinda strange

His voice is lower than Jon's, but slightly higher than Billy's. (When he's Abuse his voice is much, much deeper)

It's rumbly

Has the best morning voice

When Colin laughs, it's a cackle. He sounds like a hyena

Definitely has toned muscles. The most defined muscles of the group

Has ENORMOUS hands

Rough and calloused from weightlifting but the rest of him is fairly soft

Rougher face because he shaves, puberty hit him HARD

He's not pretty, he's hot

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fiendishartist2 · 4 months ago

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im not fucking around anymore. here's the full "Paul is Care" essay i've been working on:

“Alright. So there's uh, nothing out here, as far as I've seen. But actually, I think there is something out here. I just haven't seen it yet.”

In Petscop, the story is told between the lines. When you feel like you have a grasp on it, a single colour or date throws off everything you’ve built up. That’s why I like to look at Petscop in another way; not as a series of events, but an exploration of a single character: Paul.

Some people like to map everything out in a single timeline; when did Care go missing, when did the family get the game, when did Lina and Mike die. I think that every interpretation of Petscop has its own value, because Petscop means something different to everyone who watches it. But, when I look at Petscop, I don’t just see a series of events wrapped up in the mystery of Care’s disappearance. I see a video game used as a device to explore and understand the connection between the past and the present. I see the ways in which Paul Leskowitz is Carrie Mark.

I know that to some that notion might seem crazy; the broader discussion of Petscop is different to the niche ones held by crazy people in the tags of a Tumblr post . Obviously, this theory is personally significant and I hold it very near and dear to my heart. But, I want to share this theory in a way that makes sense to the general audience of Petscop because I genuinely believe you guys are missing out! So, keep an open mind and enter my Petscop mind-palace…

“...were signs along the way. Um, that I ignored. Because it would have been a completely ridiculous idea to me. Um. But when I found my room, it made, uh, well, I was shocked at first, but it made sense, especially considering where I found the game in the first place, um, that it would be tied, in some way, to me through you. Um. And I'm trying to think, when was the last time I saw any of you at all? It had to have been in like, 1999. I was a kid, I was a small kid. Tiny kid. Um. And after that, just, you know. But, it would make sense in the timeline.” (Petscop 11)

A lot of Petscop theories surround the actual textual proof found in the videos, so that’s where I’ll start. There’s many instances where Paul makes the connection between himself and Care, but one moment continues to stick with me. In Petscop 11, Paul finally enters the house and takes a look around. He’s on the phone with someone, presumably Belle. Paul goes up to the calendars and starts talking about Care, “Yeah, on that topic... I don't remember meeting this girl at all. Um, I don't remember knowing her at any point (…) Um, and I remember you saying that we were, that we, we are, um, exactly the same age.” (Petscop 11). He points out that he and Care share the same birthday, down to the year. We get further confirmation of this in Petscop 14, when Paul’s conversation with Jill that he had on his own birthday is superimposed onto Care’s. The next part though, is what really gets the theory started, “I do agree there's a resemblance. Um. Very strong resemblance between us.” (Petscop 11).

Faces are incredibly important in Petscop. Marvin thought Care and Mike could be rebirthed into Lina because they had similar features, and Care had to be given Mike’s eyebrows specifically to change her room. So, for Paul and Care to have such similar facial features that someone else pointed out the resemblance is significant.

They also happen to share the name “Leskowitz”, which is both Anna and Lina’s last name. We know this because his Reddit account is “p_leskowitz”.

If he’s a Leskowitz, then that explains his complicated feelings towards “the family”. “The family” is a foreboding presence throughout Petscop. Their meddling isn’t outright malicious, but even Paul admits that he’s intimidated by them. And it makes sense, as “the family” (comprised of Anna and Jill) each have a major role in the core mystery of Petscop. Anna is the mother of Care and the wife of Marvin, while Jill is Marvin’s sister and the mother of both Rainer and Mike. To be a Leskowitz, Paul would need to be blood related to Anna or Lina in some way. Paul shows that he has this relation to the family in Petscop 22, when he’s talking to Belle about finding the windmill, “And, I don't th- and you don't have to worry about it, right, 'cause... 'cause you aren't, you aren't family, so you wouldn't... have a room, that's the thing.” (Petscop 22). In this context, Paul is asking Belle whether Jill has contacted her. When he tells her she doesn’t have a room, this is in reference to the Child Library explored in Petscop 3 and 7. This means that in order to be part of the Leskowitz-Mark family (and in our case, related to Care), you have to have a room in the Child Library, something both Paul and Care possess.

Paul being related to the family is also supported by his casual mention of meeting Rainer as a child, “‘Rainer’... I saw him at a birthday party once. All the older kids were down in the basement playing video games, to hide from everyone. He was down there, too. He was older than the rest of them, though.” (Petscop 11), and his confusion of not knowing Care, with the implication that if she was real, he would have met her through the family.

A rarely discussed aspect of Paul’s character is that he can’t tell his left from his right. When he’s doing the disc puzzle in Anna and Marvin’s room is Petscop 11, “Um, we can see what the room looks like in that recording, um, on the uh, right? ... Left? Left? Right ... side.” (Petscop 14) and before he even enters the house, “And, I mean, I still get confused about that. Because, I mean, well, I know it's always the top, but, um, I still have to think. I have to think.” (Petscop 11), we can clearly see that he has trouble with directions. In a similar fashion, Care is described as “dizzy”, most notably in the end credits of Petscop. She is also described as blind by Rainer in Petscop 17, “You were blind. At some point, your movements stopped making sense.” (Petscop 17). In the counsellor’s office, the counsellor says to Paul, “Are you right handed, or left handed? You don't know? Really?” (Petscop 22). I’ll get more into it later, but this sequence is presumably a real conversation that the game is recreating. If this scene is taken from Care’s real childhood, then it confirms that she also had problems with her lefts and rights.

Now, this is the base level of the theory. It’s easy to figure out that Paul is a Leskowitz, he literally calls them “the family”. And while I think the bits about faces and birthdays and directions are significant to this theory, I wanted to get all of the textual evidence out of the way so that I could get into the fun part of this essay: the subtext.

”Some things you can't rewrite.” (Petscop 14)

Petscop is nothing if not a collection of symbols and metaphors. Ask me what Petscop is all about on any given day and there’s a non-zero chance I will start explaining why the car is orange. While it is necessary to analyse Petscop as a real series of events, I think that another approach can be taken; what if we analysed Petscop as a series of events that are happening to Paul specifically? That the game is creating meaning by placing Paul specifically in these snippets of the past. By looking at each moment as “Why did the game make Paul do this?” instead of “What is happening in the game?”, we can see everything through a new lens.

First, I want to discuss colour. Colour plays a huge role in Petscop; almost every character is assigned their own colour. This is most often used to denote who is speaking in text, but it’s also used for other things like the tool. You are probably aware that Care’s colour is yellow, as all of her text is yellow. What you might not know is that Paul’s colour is red. Paul has exactly one instance in all of Petscop where he has coloured text and that is in Petscop 22, when he gives the counsellor his name. The calendars in the house are also colour coded, as the one showing 2017 is red.

One of my favourite moments in all of Petscop uses colour in a way that supports this theory perfectly. When Paul takes Care out of the rebirthing machine, she has been transformed into an Easter egg. A red and yellow striped Easter egg. I will get into this egg later on, but for now, I want to point out how Paul and Care’s colours have been used here. Of course, it’s significant just that they've been put together, but it's more than that. Care’s final form, the egg she has been placed in to keep her safe from all of the trauma she has suffered, that she will spend the rest of the series in, is painted a combination of her and Paul’s colours. In the same sequence, when Paul is playing the Needles Piano for Care B, the “wrong” notes he plays to turn her into the Easter Egg are all red. There’s a joke about eggs and transness in here somewhere.

Right after Care’s rebirth into the egg, Paul places her in the locker with the purple egg and the “new life” letter. If we abide by the established colour theory, this second egg would be Belle’s/Tiara’s egg. By putting them together, alongside the letter, it symbolises Care and Belle’s transfer to Lina’s care; this can also be supported by the ending of Petscop. In the final scene of the soundtrack, Belle recounts when she and Paul were adopted, “There is Boss waiting for her son. Pall do you remember being born. Smuggled away driving to your new house. Boss in driver seat me in back.” (Petscop Soundtrack). “Do you remember being born” is a question posed over and over again throughout Petscop. It’s meant to be a reference to rebirthing, but here it’s Paul being asked if he remembers being born, not Care; you can also connect this to the “new life” letter, making it apparent Belle is asking if he remembers when he was given his “new life” with her and “Boss”. There’s also the implication of the wording “smuggled away”, implying that there was something stopping Paul from being taken to his new home. Paul and Care’s final scenes parallel each other; Care is placed with Belle’s/Tiara’s egg with the “new life” letter, while Paul is taken back to “Boss” by Belle. Care and Paul are both asked if they “remember being born”.

Another, smaller piece of colour theory in Petscop comes from the board games in the counsellor’s office. The board game “Accident” features red and yellow puzzle pieces that fit together, but are broken apart. Remember that Care’s colour is yellow, so assume that she symbolises the yellow piece; Paul’s colour is red, so assume that he symbolises the red piece. The red piece is bigger and fits into the smaller yellow piece, like it’s missing the beginning of it. The yellow piece comes before the red piece, as if it adds context to the red piece. When we think of this in terms of Care and Paul, we can see that Care is the “missing piece” of Paul; the small part of his past that adds the context that completes him. Paul’s piece is bigger because he’s been Paul for so much longer (if we interpret the counsellor’s office as a real event the way it is shown, then that could be the moment he changed. Or, if we consider Care’s rebirth into the egg as the moment Care turned into Paul, then that would be the moment instead), meanwhile Care’s piece is small because she was only a small part of his life.

Taking colour into account, we can get into the meat of the symbolism in Petscop. When we view the events of Petscop through our new lens, many things become significant. Paul is placed in the role of Care many times throughout the series; on Care’s birthday, in the counsellor's office, and in Rainer’s “you are Carrie Mark” monologue.

During the “strange situation” birthday scene, Paul carries around a yellow balloon, symbolising that he is standing in for Care. This is further cemented by Anna’s dialogue addressing Paul as if he is Care on the day she came home, “You made it. Happy birthday! (...) Why are you covering your face? (...) Of course I recognize you. Those eyes. That nose. That’s still you.” (Petscop 14).

This next dialogue from Anna is particularly interesting to me; she doesn’t just tell Paul that she’s happy Care is home safe or ask him where she’s been, but instead she says this, “I sure hope you’ve realised by now. It doesn’t matter how long you’ve been gone. It doesn’t matter how much you’ve changed. You aren’t lost. Stop wandering and come home.” (Petscop 14). When we talk about Petscop, we have the urge to deny any supernatural involvement in the story. Whether through AI or predictive programming or alternate timelines, we want Petscop to be plausible. Understandable. Easy to digest. But, we often forget that Paul poses the question of a literal “ghost in the machine” in the first few episodes. I want to consider this quote– Anna talking to her child who has been “lost” for many years– as an act of this ghost. The game is talking back to Paul, telling him that no matter how much he has changed, he still has the same eyes, the same nose that made him Carrie Mark. And we know how important eyes and noses are in Petscop. Also as a side note, consider how Anna didn’t specify eyebrows; we know that Care’s lack of eyebrows is in some way due to Marvin, but when she tells Paul she recognises his eyes and nose, she doesn’t add on eyebrows. Paul said it himself in Petscop 7, “Um, and why am I doing that? Well, because eyebrows seem to be important.” (Petscop 7). I like to think that she couldn’t have said that Paul has the same eyebrows because, since Marvin isn’t in the picture anymore, he wouldn’t have any reason to pluck them.

Another scene that mixes up Paul and Care is the counsellor's office. When Paul finally enters the “girl wall” in Petscop 22, he is placed into a school’s counsellor’s office. Again, they talk to Paul as if he is Care, apologising for taking him out of class and saying he needs to “catch up”, implying that he’s missed a significant amount of school. As they start to play Graverobber (Jesus Christ, Rainer), the counsellor is confused about Paul’s name; they ask him if they have the wrong name written down, as his save file is currently “Strange Situation” and when they called out the name on file, Paul didn’t respond. Now, the connection here is a little more nuanced, but it still comes to a conclusion that I think greatly supports the theory. “Strange situation” is in reference to the Mary Ainsworth Strange Situation Experiment, a test in which an infant is deliberately separated from their mother to test their level of attachment. This is a very base level understanding of this concept, but when applied to this specific scene, it becomes apparent that this “strange situation” is another reference to Care. Care was separated from her mother for about half a year, only returning during the birthday party scene; the counsellor’s scene was accessible once Paul started using the “Strange Situation” file. Care stopped recognising the name she used before the seperation, considering herself to be “Strange Situation” instead. She has literally stopped recognising the name Care, and picks out her own name (which in the game Paul sets to his own).

Also consider the implication of the “girl wall”. At first, it’s an absurd joke, meant to lighten the mood using the same roundabout humour the rest of the series has. But, the counsellor asking if they have the wrong name, listing Paul as “Strange Situation” instead of his name, combined with the fact that when Paul is placed in front of the girl wall, he can’t walk away from it, it becomes a bit of an analogy; The game keeps forcefully showing Paul the word “GiRL” over and over and when he finally enters the “girl-world” as Strange Situation, he is called the wrong name and once again placed in Care’s shoes.

Let’s revisit the “ghost in the machine” idea. In Petscop 17, we are shown a past recording of Petscop; we never find out who was playing at this time, but it’s easy to assume Paul is the one watching the recording. The footage is less interesting than the dialogue, but it is notable that it’s a recording of the player running backwards in a very deliberate pattern. The actually relevant part of this sequence is Rainer’s monologue; in particular, the way he frames it, “You are a girl named Carrie Mark, and you were born on November 12th, 1992. You have a mommy named Anna, a daddy named Marvin, an auntie named Jill, an uncle named Thomas, a cousin named Daniel, ......I know what you must be thinking. Have these statements always been true? Or have I cursed you? Is there such a thing? A curse that changes your past?” (Petscop 17). There’s something about the forcefulness of this dialogue, “You are Carrie Mark,” as if Rainer is trying to make it so just by saying it. The inclusion of the birthday is also notable; we have been shown time and time again that Paul and Care share a birthday, and that this is an important part of both of their characters. So, when Rainer asks if these statements have always been true, or if it’s “a curse that changes your past”, we’re meant to interpret it as such: some of the statements are true, but the “you” being addressed is not currently “a girl named Carrie Mark”. Rainer casts a spell to make the player retrace their steps and although he might not be playing, the use of the word “you” and present tense language makes the statement pointed towards Paul. There’s something to be said about Rainer’s position in all of this; he isn’t the only tangible “ghost” in Petscop (Marvin and Tiara fit Paul’s definition established in Petscop 6), but he’s the only one to be fully dead. It truly feels, in this moment, like Petscop– like Rainer– is talking directly to Paul. The “curse that changes your past” is the part that ties it all together. This past that Paul doesn’t fully remember, where Anna and Marvin have a daughter named Care, where someone in his family went missing for months– by learning about this through the game, Rainer is essentially changing Paul’s version of the past. Your memory and physical evidence are all you have of the past; when your memory tells you one thing, but physical evidence tells you another, what version of your past is true?

“You’re the Newmaker. You can turn Care NLM into Care A, and close the loop.” (Petscop 9)

Finally, I want to explain why this theory is supportive of the themes of Petscop. Of course, there’s the obvious link between rebirth and the change from Care to Paul. But, there’s also themes of blood family versus chosen family, breaking the cycle of abuse, and of healing from your past. I want to provide an explanation of each of these themes and how the “Paul is Care” theory fits into them.

Let’s begin with the family point, since I already expanded on the family’s role in Petscop earlier. There’s a story behind the scenes in this series; the conflict between the chosen family versus the blood family. Anna and Jill against Belle and Lina. Anna and Jill are restrictive– they take over the channel and block certain things from the audience. Paul admits that he’s intimidated by them, and he’s concerned when he thinks Jill could be in contact with Belle. When we get the only dialogue from Jill, Paul is hostile and aggressive with her, something we don’t see from him otherwise. Alternately, Anna comes off as dismissive in most of her dialogue; when Care shows up at the birthday party, Anna treats her like no time has passed, like they haven’t been searching for her for months. We don’t get direct contact between Anna and Paul (except for a phone call in Petscop 11 that you could interpret as being with Anna), but the way she talks to the player through Care during the birthday party is still dismissive, “I sure hope you’ve realised by now. It doesn’t matter how long you’ve been gone. It doesn’t matter how much you’ve changed. You aren’t lost. Stop wandering and come home.” (Petscop 14). There’s a level of distance between Paul and the family, which is evident from the name alone; Paul identifies himself as part of the family, but he still calls them “the family” as opposed to “my family”. When you pair that with the fact that he calls them all by their first names instead of any term of endearment (like how Rainer calls her “Auntie Jill” in his spell), it paints a clear picture: Paul does not want to be part of this family.

In direct contrast, Belle is shown a significant amount of affection from Paul. Not only is he on the phone with her for a good handful of the episodes, but Belle also has a familial connection to Paul. In Petscop 2, Paul is talking to Belle and he says “When you come home next month, and uh, hopefully you're feeling a little more enthusiastic about that now, we can investigate this together, and maybe you'll find stuff that I can't find here.” (Petscop 2). I think the casual use of the word ‘home’ to describe where Belle is staying implies a certain closeness, maybe even that they live in the same household. That’s not the part of this line that is important to me, however. Take a look at Belle’s final speech at the end of Petscop; Belle says “I could not wait too be your friend,” and Paul responds, “Family”, to which Belle says, “We can investigate this together.” (Petscop Soundtrack). After distancing himself from the family, as well as directly telling her she’s not part of the family (following it up with “Uhh... I didn't- I didn't mean it that way,” (Petscop 22), implying they have a similar connection that she’s defending), Paul calls Belle family. She states that they’re friends and Paul corrects her by telling her that they’re not just friends, but family. The most gut wrenching part of this dialogue is the use of ‘we can investigate this together’. It’s like a ward, a promise that Belle is making to Paul. He doesn’t have to go through this alone, she’s promising to be there for him. She’s going to investigate this with him, like he asked her to in the second episode. Paul doesn’t call his blood relatives family, but he tells Belle that they are his family; her and the “Boss”.

How does this connect to Care? It’s not hard evidence, but when you take this theme of family into account, it makes more sense for Paul to have a strained relationship with the family if we apply Care’s story to him. Think about it; Paul was ‘smuggled away driving too [his] new house’ and he hasn’t seen the family since he was a child, and Care’s egg was (metaphorically) placed with Belle’s and the New Life Letter when she would have been around 5, since that’s the age she was when she was kidnapped. Care went through an extremely traumatic event in a toxic environment– why wouldn’t someone step in and take her out of that family? To me, this theory extends the same closure Paul gets at the end of Petscop to Care; it tells us that even after everything she went through, she finds people who love and take care of her.

Abuse is a huge focus in Petscop, both as a plot point and a major theme. Rainer’s main motivation is to expose Marvin’s abuse of both Mike and Care to the family– whether or not that’s successful is not important. Because years after Rainer’s attempt, Paul is back doing the exact same; although, his playthrough of Petscop is less of an expose and more of an attempt at solving the mystery. Now, I think it’s a little pedantic, but in this context, I think the “cycle of abuse” in Petscop refers less to a generational cycle, but a continuous cycle that happens every time Petscop is played. Care is stuck in this version of the past that Rainer has created, forced to live through it as many years as Petscop is left on. Paul doesn’t continue this cycle though; as far as we know, Paul is the only person to reach the good ending of the game, where he’s rebirthed Care into the egg and reconnected with Belle and ‘Boss’. Paul is the only person who could understand what Care needed, because it’s exactly what he needed.

Care’s trauma is replayed for us throughout Petscop. Every knowable aspect of it is shown, leaving behind a raw feeling; like somehow, Paul and Rainer have made a spectacle of her abuse. But, I don’t think that’s entirely true. Rainer, although he is bitter and vengeful, is ultimately the person who finds the truth about Care and Mike and (if we are to believe him) is also the one who found Care at the school. In the beginning, it’s obvious that Paul is playing the game to see the mystery and is slowly engulfed by it throughout the rest of the series. When the game tells him that, “Marvin picks up tool hurts me when playstation on,” (Petscop 3), Paul proceeds anyway. The same happens when Care is caught in her room; Paul sees what is obviously a child being kidnapped and continues to solve the puzzle anyway. He picks the flower, catching Care NLM, and leads Marvin to the house. Paul follows through on everything he can to ‘solve’ the mystery of Carrie Mark, but in the end, he defies what the game has told him to do and saves Care. He does what Rainer couldn’t do: he breaks the cycle of abuse in the Mark-Leskowitz family. It’s kind of poetic, the idea that the person Care grew to be is the same person who confronts and lays to rest her trauma. The fact that playing his own theme would be the key to changing Care into the egg (a symbol of birth and potential) is beautiful.

The last thing I want to talk about is the theme of healing. This concept is more nebulous; we don’t see much of Paul post-Petscop, but the final scene does always leave me feeling hopeful for him. I think the reconnection with Belle and ‘Boss’, alongside the reassurance that, “[they] can investigate this together,” shows that Paul is out of the mindset and environment Petscop put him in. I’ve always thought that throughout Petscop, we see a deterioration of Paul; in the beginning, he’s intrigued and confused, but we see him become more and more disturbed, irritable, and frustrated towards the end. This is first evident with the CD puzzle in the house, where Paul is so out of his depth and confused that he stops acting with the same calm rationality shown throughout the earlier episodes. Then, when Paul is messing about with the demo recordings, he stops speaking in the videos entirely. When Paul sees the final blacked out object, which are coordinates to the real life windmill, he is the most stuttery we’ve ever seen, “Hm. Y- y- yep, yep. Yep... yep. N- we would- we would have to find out how big... like, we'd have to find out how big a tile is..? One of the tiles..? Like, if we could- if we could figure out how big... one tile is, in... u- in, umm... Like, feet. Or... Uhh, yeah. Meters.” (Petscop 22). He’s frazzled and excited and a little bit scared, evidenced by how he talks about the family, “They didn't... I don't like talking to them. They intimidate me…” (Petscop 22). All of this changes by the end; Paul is no longer stuck playing the game and he’s free to return to the people who love him most. This freedom is summed up in a single image: the final one we see in Petscop. Paul’s chair is empty and the blue sky beyond the desk is brimming with hope.

All this to say, Paul choosing Belle and ‘Boss’ over the game as well as saving Care by doing what’s best for her instead of finishing the final puzzle, alongside his final scene where he is welcomed home by his real family, shows us an interpretation of Petscop that paints it not as a tragedy, but a story of chosen family, breaking the cycle of abuse, and healing trauma through connection.

Thank you so much for hearing me out.

Bye-bye!

#its been done for ever i just never got around to posting it #i went through and edited it to bw more coherent tho bc this was written in the middle of a petscop fervor lol #petscop #paul leskowitz #carrie mark #im not tagging everyone #essay #petscop theory #i love you paul is care theory forever and ever #its long so you may wanna read in multiple sittings #like 10 pages long ToT #sorry not sorry #lmk if i actually made sense or if im crazy pls i want to know if this is even understandable to ppl who arent me #this was actually originally written as a video essay but idk if ill ever make it

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callioclops · 8 months ago

Text

Going through Tumblr's Community Guidelines to find out which one all the transfems are apparently breaking

So let's just be clear, we all know that transfem blogs are being taken down for criticising Tumblr staff. I wouldn't be surprised if mine goes down for making this. But I think it would be good if we just go through what is and isn't allowed and find where they might be trying to find a loophole if they even bother to give a reason.

The only way I could see this ever being relevant to the transfem ban wave is if they made pro-Palestine posts which Staff chose to unfavourable misinterpret as pro-Hamas, which I wouldn't be surpised by but it's a separate point I think

Ironically, transfems are getting banned for doing the exact thing it suggests here. We're addressing our concerns directly with staff. We're speaking up, we're raising awareness, and yet we're banned for explicitly following the advice given in the Community Guidelines. Nevertheless I expect a few of them have been banned on this exact point. Now, if any of the critiques had been levelled at the staff specifically based on any of the qualities listed then yes, that would be valid, but I've yet to see that, and even if I did see that I have no doubt that they'd be banned faster than the 50 TERFs and Nazis that commited the exact same violation against them for weeks on end.

I'm including this one for the sake of completion but I don't think I need to talk about it. Obviously no one is violating this for critiquing staff and I think it would be absurd for them to try and claim it.

A similar thing here, although more likely than the former if a "KYS" gets thrown in out of an understandable amount of anger or frustration. Again however, I haven't personally seen this from any criticisms.

We know transfems have been banned on this point. It's been explicitly stated and the evidence given has been none, or tenuous at best. They can and will book you on this point for any reason it seems. We shouldn't have to be scared to share our photos to highlight our experiences as trans women. There is no reason why our faces should be considered inappropriate.

To my knowledge the only time this has come up is Hammer Car, and we all know how absurd that is. To be banned over a looney tunes threat shows the person pulling the trigger has been waiting for a reason.

The following is a long string of completely irrelevant guidelines that I'm including to make sure I haven't missed anything, feel free to skip over these.

And now we're back to one last thing that has a chance of being levied agaisnt us:

Staff, I want to make this perfectly clear to you: Critique is not harassment. Protest is not harassment. Your job is to run a website that is welcoming to people of all gender identities, races, ages (within your own limit of when people can make an account of course), etc. When you're getting so many complaints about this, that should be an indicator for you to consider whether something is being done wrong. And it may not be you that's doing it, but when the company you work for is allowing this rampant prejudice to be carried out, you have a duty to do something about it. Make a statement denouncing the actions of the company. If you're in a position to do so, strike. Protest. If you agree with us that what's happening is wrong, then stand with us. And if you don't see anything wrong with the silencing of disparaging opinions from an oppressed minority, keep at it I suppose. You won't get all of us.

And finally a couple more completely irrelevant guidelines for this topic.

#oh boy I'm really rolling the dice on this one but I don't care anymore #I'm sick of staying silent #normally I try to avoid addressing serious topics but I am so done sitting idle while my peers are being deleted from existence #transmisogyny #trans rights

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eluxcastar · 2 years ago

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As I opened my tumblr, just to check if there is new Arlecchino stuff to swallow... lo and behold, I saw your post with the Arlecchino simp tags. Shot me the moment I stepped into the door right there, hahaha! May I request an Arlecchino x reader, headcanon or anything you're comfortable coming up with. The reader is thousands of years old, who got disowned by the Tsaritsa because they declined their performance in greatness for someone else's benefit and saw no worth in her/them. Could be a sibling or a friend, the betrayal stung like a bee since she/they saw Tsaritsa as a mother figure or could literally be the mother (Got kunikuzushi'd in a way, minus the puppet part). So, here's the main part - How Arlecchino would handle that person, when they meet in hostile terms. An accidental encounter, had banters and fights and eventually found strange subtle solace from each other. Could be romantic, or just obsession on Arlecchino's part because we love deranged women pls step on me with your sharp heels - anyway, since Arlecchino is interpreted as someone who won't hesitant to betray the Fatui. On her own benefit, works with the reader to mess and interrupt Fatui operations. I won't include more or else you'd be dealing a whole thesis of it. Hahahah! Good day to you~!

One of Repetition

── ୨୧：arlecchino x reader

୨୧﹑synopsis :: in a strange decision nobody quite understood but could not contest, you were dismissed from your position by the tsaritsa herself but allowed to live. you wander for some time, lost and confused, and most notably unable to escape the fatui even when you are no longer associated with them, which means an unwanted letter and an even more unwanted visit from the knave.

୨୧﹑genre :: kinda angsty

୨୧﹑content :: fem reader, reader has a pyro vision, arlecchino has a cryo delusion, reader uses a bow, capitano is not human this time, he's just a plot device too, their previous relationship is implied but ambiguous, implied age difference, reader is most often called by the title brighella, writing this spiralled me into insanity, possibly bad writing, not proofread

୨୧﹑words :: 13.6k

hehe, I know that Arlecchino simps flock to me once they learn my requests are open. I have no idea why. maybe they're just especially desperate for food, but they linger, and I have a little collection of anons.

don't worry about how much it'll take me, I honestly enjoy writing longer works. anyway, I received a request similar to this some time ago (was it you? I have encountered that before) but haven't gotten around to completing it, so I'll be partly combining the two

here's the other request:

it's gonna provide some stuff for me to follow, and I remember exactly when I got it, so I wanted to include it for the dear anon who sent it

why brighella you may ask well that's because brighella has been described before as essentially Arlecchino's smarter and more vindictive brother and they compliment each other well. I think Arlecchino may also work for Brighella in some versions?? either way it felt right even though they're not really based off of the character brighella, they do share a few traits with him but not fully it's just a fun little parallel

I really did not expect this to be so long that it literally lagged the writing program I was using to save it and I have been staring at this for so long I literally have no gauge on the quality anymore just that it's variable because it took me so long someone send help

Her words left you exasperated, literally at a loss for words, and you struggled to comprehend the reason for it. There was nothing you could think of, no instance that struck you as prominent. Yet, somehow as one of the Tsaritsa's children, you had become what any parent might refer to simply as a disappointment, their failure—the problem child who never quite ironed out their issues. You had always been faithful to her, hopelessly devoted to the archon and her will. News such as this came out of nowhere and struck you like a hammer to the chest.

Two of her most mighty children were near and dear to her, and now the other had turned against you as he remains loyal to her. The Jester, who you once held in high regard, has turned against you. It is a bitter pill to swallow, for you must now sever ties with the one man you believed was truly deserving of serving the Tsaritsa. Your mother— your world— turns against you with him, before him, leading the way for him.

In vain, you draw your bow to strike an arrow between his eyes, prove your strength and power as above your position, above him, but it means nothing. Your strike is blocked, and the Tsarita's Damselette Columbina moves to detain you. You believe she would not be strong enough, but you don't itch to fight ten other Harbingers. You understand that even you have a limit, and fighting what are supposed to be the strongest people in the country is not a part of that. Your honour is on the line, an honour which would tarnish not only Brighella's name but also have a ripple effect on your soldiers, men and women who fought for you and did not deserve a punishment that would result from their actions.

"Think carefully, Brighella." Columbina's warning is not lost on you, "You could remain as a hero or fight, and I will lure the creature you brought from the abyss and gut him before your eyes."

You do not want that. That creature is not yet loyal to the Tsaritsa but to you, and she will convince him he can save you. He will fall into her trap and die.

You bite your lip, trying to think of a way to escape and capture him so that you can run off somewhere. He does not deserve to die, but you can't think of anything. Not when you know how thorough these people are. There is not a will, really. There is only a has. He has fallen into her trap and is at the mercy of the Damselette. "What if I am to obey?" You finally ask the question you did not want to, surrendering in a way, though the bite has not left your words.

"I'll leave him be." Her answer is swift. She expected that you would eventually give in and only needed to wait for it to happen.

You shake your head, dissatisfied with only that as your compensation. "Not enough."

The smile on her face does not waver, thin and deceitful as ever, eyes hidden and closed, unseen behind the band of lace. "Mm. I can't bargain anything else."

"Have him take my place." You lay your condition out firmly. There is only one to meet, and not a hard one at that. It would be easy to sway him into it, using whatever they plan to do to you as motivation. His loyalty and affection for you would make him accept it.

She ponders the situation and proposal momentarily, powerless to make the executive decision but undoubtedly keen on the thought of it all. "He believes that you are about to fall in battle to a foe and that he is going to save you."

You grit your teeth, knowing that this is her trap. Lure him to a place. It was not what you had expected, but it is no less the Damselette's style of acting. There is always a damsel, but perhaps she recognised that she would not suffice this time. She needed a better damsel for him to save; for that to work, it needed to be you.

She needs your name, reputation, your relationship with your subordinate, melding together with her lies to make for a tale of tragedy with him as the hero.

The thought of him rushing to his death under the guise of saving you spikes your blood cold, chilling you. You're aware of her cruelty and always have been, but to experience it is different than hearing about it from her perspective. You are experiencing it from the perspective of the victim.

His death was another factor to hold over your head, your penance, the anchor to force your compliance. Your blood boils with anger, but you cannot fight. Despite your feelings of anger and frustration, you know that lashing out will only cause further harm and pain.

There is only one thing you can do. You know you must. It's simply that you don't want to.

But...you must.

You must for him, that poor creature you tried to give a home to and who would never be in such a position if not for you and your ambition.

"Then I will fall, and you will use the honour I built into him to persuade him."

It was an honour meant to humanise him in a way, a being only able to imitate humanity. He had a mentor and something to fight for. Now you're imploring that it be used against him to burden him, but he will do well in your position.

Columbina smiles, that thin mocking smile like she knows the secrets of this world and more. "Would he really believe that?"

The helmet. You should use the helmet to your advantage. Your subordinate's first exposure to humanity, being you, a woman in a metal helmet, seemed to last. He used to think that was what humans looked like, and he admitted as much to you as he had asked you to remove it. Your impression left an indelible mark on him that he treasures to this day. Even if he was to see you in the aftermath, he would not uncover the lie.

"He has never seen my face. He would not recognise me."

Columbina accepts that readily, and her eyes open, pools of black and white visible through the cracks in the lace over her eyes. You've seen them before, inky black sclera and inhuman patterns decorating the borders of her irises, but you can't help the unsettled feeling that makes a home for itself in the pit of your stomach.

By the evening, you are stripped of your honours, titles and coat and dumped to the curb like a bag of rubbish somebody left out. There is no more fight, no more bargaining, no more arguing. Everyone has the things they want, for the most part, so you are all satisfied enough to remain amicable with each other. Without a fight, you allow the Jester to remove the fur-lined overcoat despite the cold that rushes over you once it is gone and discarded in a heap of fur and fabric on the floor with none of its previous value.

After that comes the slow, deliberate removal of every trinket that denoted you as you. From your delusion, several gifts to your very insignia, the only thing left of you is a lone pyro vision and the clothes on your back. You've never been more thankful to not wear a standard-issue uniform lest you be made to undress and hand that over too.

That was it. Your everything.

With each piece of regalia taken, a part of yourself disappeared until you were left an empty husk of a person, your entire reason for being for hundreds of years snatched out from under you and spat on.

The Harbingers were supposed to be the children of the Tsaritsa, and this was your grand disowning. A show of power and influence over her closest children and, by extension, the ability to bring pain to her less-- to her followers. It was foolish of you to ever think you were special in her eyes for having been by her side since before the Archon War. What did it matter when she left you amongst the rest of them? The years you spent since you had hobbled into her life so tiny and cute were now reduced to a few personal belongings and a set of words that shattered your world to sharp and dangerous pieces that would only hurt you in your haste to reassemble them and string your life back together.

When you were young, your cuteness may have been your best asset: a small body with endearing quirks, the inability to walk long distances without tumbling. In this state, you required her for everything because you would only find danger in the harsh Snezhnayan winters. To even acquire your own food was unthinkable, so you were sheltered and provided with ample treats that you could nibble from the palm of her hand if that were what you wished. Anything to keep you happy and content.

Like a little trinket, she cradled you for as many years as it took you to grow, and once you were at an age you no longer needed to be cradled, she made you her loyal companion, or so you had believed. You thought her affection for you was unwavering. She was the only mother you had ever known; she is the only mother you will remember for all of eternity.

Although it may have been an exaggeration, watching the sun's gradual descent below the horizon, you could almost believe eternity would quickly prove to be a very real concept. You watch the sky darken in silence for a time. You roam aimlessly around the city, your presence still striking unease in the people from the threatening demeanour you learned to conduct yourself with as a Harbinger, even without your official attire. The only remnant of your former self is a helmet you consistently wore during every public appearance.

You can't help your wandering mind. Did your imitation of the Tsaritsa's actions make you weak? Attempting to nurture someone in the same manner she nurtured you? You are not a god, only the former child of one. Maybe you cannot care for him and maintain your objectivity. It's possible that he has become your Achilles' heel, as you were forewarned when the Tsaritsa less than subtly suggested you eliminate him.

You cannot live like this.

No matter how many suns you watched set, you would never come to terms with it living like this. The world you once knew, which revolved around a singular governing entity and individual, has disappeared without a trace. Without a central axis to anchor it in place, your world spirals chaotically out of control, with each passing second feeling more frenzied than the last. Your head is too muddled, your brain too overwhelmed by your emotions to think objectively of the faults in your time as a Harbinger, years of your life spent that way, burying your thoughts beneath a heavy weight of despair.

You almost want to call them wasted, but that would be wrong. Without the Tsaritsa, you might've— no, would've died during the Archon War. Perhaps another god would take you in, but it is unlikely that they would have exhibited the same level of compassion and generosity as the Tsaritsa. They would not have coddled you into comfort the way she did. Then again, what if that had been your downfall? Did she ever genuinely want you to stay? Based on this...perhaps you took her kindness for granted and overstayed your welcome.

You had no right to make demands of her in your final moments as her child, acting like a spoiled brat throwing a temper tantrum. But can you be justified? Can the threat to your subordinate's life negate that? Surely a bit, but not entirely, not if her actions were in response to yours.

Oh, even if you begged on your knees, she would not take you back now.

Why had you not done that before?

She must be disappointed that your attitude was born from her compassion, the epitome of her failures. You do not deserve to call her your mother. You took her generosity as a guarantee, thought yourself above her other children solely because you were her first, and believed you were her favourite for no reason besides your own arrogance.

You have failed the only being in Teyvat willing to show pity toward you.

The deepest heart of Snezhnayan forest welcomes you readily with open arms and the gnashing jaws of monsters starving for food. The forest seems to come alive with a vicious hunger for flesh. You have nothing but your vision and bow left to aid your defence. Your delusion is gone, and your subordinates are nowhere to be found to assist you. Despite this, marking your way with a trail of bodies is easy. It is just an inconvenience to have to always be on guard, but you are strangely used to it.

The cold is numbing as the air hits your face, your fingers almost wholly without a sensation of touch and even a tingle in your toes.

You spent many missions that way, tensed and expecting violence at any moment, hardly allowing yourself to sleep, let alone relax. It feels like nothing has changed in that respect, but you know everything has. You cannot hear the large crackling bonfire or the pattering of footsteps in the snow as your subordinates come to join you, their laughter and chatter and their whispers to each other.

There is a stark silence that is deafening to your ears.

On the seventh night, you pass through a village on the outskirts of Snezhnaya, where you first catch wind of the news you had agreed on. The locals informed you that they had recently halted their work for half a day in your honour, believing that you had passed away. All of them are completely unaware that as they remark on the death of Brighella, they are speaking to the former Harbinger, who asks about the news under the guise of being a curious traveller. They also strongly advised you against venturing into the innermost heart of the nation. If anyone were to notice the helmet carefully secured around your waist, it might bring unwanted attention to your travels.

Though you were stripped of your insignia, you have your armour, which by some grace had been spared from confiscation. Though a seemingly trivial act of kindness, a sense of pride swelled within you as you gazed upon it. You are glad it is still yours. This armour had accompanied you through countless blood-soaked skirmishes, serving as a steadfast shield against all manner of danger.

It is at that moment you decide to treat it as a trophy. Though there is no truth to it, you take responsibility for the Harbinger's slaying. Now, the armour which once protected you as a Harbinger will stand as a triumphant emblem of your hard-won victory over Brighella and the end of the Harbinger's tyrannical hold over the land. You know that you will keep it close, treasuring it always as a tangible reminder of the sacrifices you made to reach this pivotal moment. You slayed Brighella. You ended the Harbinger's tyranny.

If you didn't know better, you would think you were getting a little too far into it and starting to believe it yourself.

By the eleventh night, you find yourself situated in an inn, and the nights only carry on from there all the way up to the twenty-second night since your abrupt dismissal and, to the rest of the world, your supposed demise. Already, the whispers that once revolved around Brighella's defeat now shifted to speculations regarding her successor. The question was not necessarily who, but who could possibly? Her brutal reign as a Harbinger had instilled fear in the hearts of all who crossed her path and in the minds of the people, no one else could measure up to her sheer terror-inducing presence. Nobody knows what happened once they dared to fight Brighella until now. She was only the Fourth of the Tsaritsa's children, but she was the most combat-heavy, and no one wished to cross her, except for the rumoured contender for her throne, who was spoken of in hushed tones as nobody was eager to have their reverence for whoever was bold enough to reach the wrong ears.

Your achievements find their place amongst the rumours as people say that Brighella's killer stole her armour and wears it as her trophy.

Despite the slew of gossip that its patrons indulge in, you enjoy the quaintness of this bar made and run by travellers who use it like a pitstop to rest and recuperate. It is a home to them, along with adventurers and merchants who benefit from the atmosphere. The people are strangers, often reserved and eager to keep to themselves, but have immeasurable wealths of information that spill with a few drinks and a group of acquaintances who are, for only one night of pleasure and indulgence, their lifelong friends.

Among those friends buried in your own tankard of cheap ale, you laugh along with their jokes and entertain their questions like a test of your ability to lie and improvise in this tale you're making for yourself. If they have names, you don't know them. Brighella's death was a glorious battle but isolated to the hills where you were alone.

"Brighella was alone, and they were weakened by prior injury. I don't know what caused it." You mix a dash of the speculations in, downplaying your strength a tad as you're unwilling to expose too much of it. "I'm not one to miss an opportunity. When would it arise again?"

One of your new acquaintances scoffs, amused but no less aware of the dangers of doing such a thing. "And make an enemy of the Fatui?" He is a new graduate of the Sumeru Akademiya who's come to make his way through Snezhnaya for a job offer. Reminds you of someone else, minus the graduating.

"They will not miss her." You are quick to answer—too quick, arguably—as it draws a sliver of attention before dipping back under the radar as a product of your confidence. "Her 'head' makes too cute a decoration on my side to pass up stealing it."

"I wouldn't dare say such a thing. Fatuus comes here sometimes." They are the words of a Snezhnayan native raised to worship the Fatui, though he is somewhat disillusioned by their crimes and cruelty, as you've learned many are.

"Let them hear it!" Your laughter is boisterous and unabashed. "They'll see the armour anyway. They probably despise her like everyone else."

Another one of your new friends, a travelling merchant from Fontaine, interjects your ravings to add only a passing comment. It was as she had done all evening, her secrets locked up tight. "She did not make herself likeable."

"She was not meant to be likeable but a fearsome warrior." Again, the Snezhnayan man rebuttals the criticism against her as he had been doing all evening again.

"You don't have to get so far up her ass, Brighella's not gonna crawl out of her grave and thank you for it."

"You're so vulgar."

You plant your tankard firmly down on the table between the four of you, leaning over it to close the distance between you and the man. "I'm not meant to be likeable either."

Forget being only a little too into the role. You're revelling in the freedom of this new identity of yours.

Quick to disperse the tension, your graduate friend changes the topic without a hint of hesitance in his voice. "They left an underling people believe will take their place. It's a surprise to think Brighella had someone who followed them with such...devotion."

"It's strange, but not impossible." The merchant from Fontaine again, contributing nothing you weren't all already thinking.

"Could she have had a sentimental side?"

"Who cares if she had a sentimental side?"

"Upset the attention isn't on you anymore?"

Anger crosses your face, but you stifle it just as quickly as it appears. You wish their attention was off of you, really. The former you, maybe, but you nonetheless. You want to know about your subordinate. What happened to your second in command? You don't care to hear their speculation as to whether you were or were not particularly emotional with your underlings. You know the answers to all of those questions and more without their guessing games.

"Regardless of the reason, they say the underlying is much easier to swallow than she is, so maybe the position of Fourth Harbinger will change drastically if he takes it."

"Would he really change its purpose if he was so loyal?"

"Unintentionally, perhaps."

God, these people are so dull. Just listening to them, you can tell they know nothing of the ways of the Fatui. Harbingers are not individual job positions with specific parameters. Each role is its own, and they are moulded by the person who assumes them like a character in a play, enchanting and unsettling in a horrific mix of theatrics and violence. It is what they stand for. One does not assume the role and become an actor with a script. They must improvise and act on a whim to the beat of the Tsaritsaʼs drum, their life no longer their own.

They are not whatever these ramblings and poor excuses for speculations make them out to be.

"Terribly misinformed, aren't they?" In your ear is the low voice of the Snezhnayan man holding in his laughter at the two as the scholar and the merchant go back and forth.

You glance to your left, where he has leaned closer to you. "Repulsively," you respond curtly.

He has a faint glint of satisfaction in his eye as you seem to have confirmed something. "I thought you might've been from Snezhnaya."

"So what if I am?"

"It was only an observation."

In the background, the main conversation continues, just as clumsy as it was before you had tuned it out in favour of drinking some more. "Does this mean he will also be named Brighella?"

Straightening back in his seat, the man swiftly interjected their back-and-forth responses to explain to them. "They receive a unique title upon their promotion, and nobody knows what it is until then." A simple enough concept to understand.

"In other words, anything but Brighella."

"It hasn't been long enough to know yet."

"It's strange. Nobody knows his name even now."

That would probably be because you never gave him one.

You considered it in the years you spent with him but couldn't find one you liked. His name was inhuman, not for your ears and not for your tongue, rendering it useless to you and every human who would hear it. The night you found him was spent crowded around a bonfire listing off every suggestion you and your subordinates could think of to no avail, as he only sat quietly by your side and said little about any of these choices, finding no familiarity in any of them. That's only natural, you suppose.

You still haven't chosen a name for yourself that isn't Brighella, either. Your old one is well and truly forgotten, with the years eroding your memories. It had been centuries since you had been called anything else. Evidently, picking names is not your forte.

"As far as I've heard, nobody knows what it is."

You find the mention of your subordinate has completely ruined your mood. You are grateful the creature is alive but worried the knowledge you're snooping around to find out when he will be promoted could land you in trouble. It's troubling enough to wonder if he has heard your tales through the grapevine about how you had supposedly 'killed' Brighella—his mistress and mentor—which he would not be happy about. Though you did not fear the creature before, now that you've personally trained him to understand human combat, you're not so sure you'd want to fight him. It would be a hassle. Unlike many, you do not fear the inhumanity of the Doctor or the stone wall that's called the Jester. Even the cunning Damselette struggles to do more than unsettle you, but you respect that creature's raw strength and understand that no matter what you do, it doesn't matter. You are confined to a human form, and he is not.

You lied when he said he wouldn't recognise you, however. You don't actually know if he would.

You don't know the extent to which his eyes can pick out the details in your appearance that aren't physical. Had he memorised your relative build? Your height? The way you carry yourself and your mannerisms? The thought unnerves you, but so does everything else about him.

"I'm turning in for the night." Without regard for the ongoing conversation, you declare your intentions and abruptly shut down whatever is being said at the time without much care for it. Whatever it is, it isn't important. Your unfinished drink is left behind as you make your way to your quarters.

In retrospect, you understand their eagerness to merely cover up the circumstances of your dismissal. For a Harbinger as feared as Brighella, it is easier to halt work for a mere half-day rather than attempt to contain the resulting fallout of admitting one of their own was inadequate while simultaneously preserving their tenuous hold on power.

Months pass before there is talk of the crowning of a new Harbinger, the people abuzz with the news and eager to know all they can, preferably before the aristocrats feel like sharing the night of the event. You considered attending the ceremony but ultimately decided against it. You may have the courage to do so, but you are certainly not stupid enough to wander into the waiting heart of the Fatui's clutches. You have waited patiently for this moment and can easily wait longer to hear the news.

No longer treating the inn like a home, you settled somewhere in the plains of another nation only a few weeks after you had first arrived there, sensing the barkeep was getting sick of you and the attention you were drawing to his otherwise obscure establishment.

People settled there for a night, saw you were there, and word of mouth as they boasted of their encounters with you lured others who came to see you. While this influx of new customers certainly provided a boost to business, it also had the unintended consequence of driving away those who preferred to keep a low profile and valued its place as being for those 'in the know'. In other words, while you were great for a boom in business, you were bad for long-term business.

The barkeep pushing the mora you tried to pay him to pay for another night was enough to send the message he wanted you gone, out by morning. The idea you were not to come back for quite some time was clear to you in the look he gave you.

Liyue, on the other hand, is filled with mountains and teeming with visitors who have come to witness the highly anticipated Rite of Descension. Surprisingly, the influx of tourism only adds to the overall enjoyment of your experience. You would think that tourism would hinder your time there, but completely contrary it makes it better in a way. The locals are expecting an influx of outsiders to come to see the Geo Archon in person, and, as a result, they are not only willing to hire help for the time but also serve later at food stalls, and the place is livelier.

People notice you less as you blend into a crowd of people who don't belong, and you slip under the radar.

You have no interest in the Rite of Descension nor the Geo Archon, and most of your time is spent outside the Harbour.

Wangshu Inn is still within Liyue but at a considerable distance from the Harbour, a mid-point between there and the border to Mondstadt. It is quieter, which is neither good nor bad, and home to some very understanding owners who ask so few questions it almost alarms you. Nonetheless, you crave respite from the chaos and theatrics you were revelling in as a reprieve from the stress you were under, wondering how you would live your life now. At one point, you relished being hailed as a hero by many, but it soon became overwhelming, and you found yourself trapped in the clutches of Brighella once again.

Whether by design or happenstance, your identity had begun to consume your life again, and if you wanted to have any hope of living outside of Brighella, then that had to stop. And so, you sought out a place to lay down your burdens and unwind, leading you to where you are now.

You arrive your old self, and despite clinging to it since your travels had begun, you remove every piece of your armour for what you intend to be a long time and leave it all neatly arranged for when you eventually return to it. You feel compelled to finally don the fresh outfit you acquired during your journey through Fontaine. Admittedly floor-length dresses and extravagance are not your style after years of being cooped up in a heavy suit of armour, but there's something alluring about trying out a new look, especially when it involves pants that don't weigh more than a third of your body weight. Besides, you always kind of liked them anyway, just...not yet. Now seems like a good time to dip your toes in.

You almost don't recognise yourself when you finally see yourself in the mirror. Perhaps you got too used to seeing a metal helmet staring back at you and a suit of armour for a body, but the fresh air against your skin and lighter clothes feels...good.

For the first time in a while, you feel free.

The new outfit is making you giddy, too giddy for your taste. You don't recall having such an innate pep in your step, only one that felt deserved, but this different. While you typically associate a sense of satisfaction with having earned it through hard work or perseverance, this newfound exuberance seems to come from just existing in your new clothes. You are happy just because even if there is nothing to feel happy about. It's as if the simple act of wearing them has given you a boost, despite not having accomplished anything significant. It doesn't even seem like you made much progress toward becoming yourself when you lay it all out on paper. You bought clothes and wore them, that's it.

Something about it feels so much like yourself. The freedom to stray from what you thought you were until now, something you hadn't dared to try before.

One thing you like about Wangshu Inn is how it serves even people who aren't staying there. The ground floor overlooking the water is designated as almost a kind of restaurant. People filter in and out to be served, stay for lunch, meet with friends, and take breaks from their missions. It is meant as a place for travelling merchants, but you find that is not all its patrons see in it.

You are not nearly as sociable as you were in the Snezhnayan bar you were at, but this seems more manageable anyway.

"If you've come looking for work, the Adventurer's Guild may have a place for you." A suggestion from a merchant who struck up an idle conversation with you for some reason sticks with you. You can't say why, but you imagine a product of boredom.

"They accept anyone?" Your surprise is evident in your tone, as you thought they might have tighter restrictions.

Just as in disbelief fact as you are, he shrugs, "As long as you've got enough power to back yourself, a friend of mine said they'll accept anyone."

That sounds far too good to be true, at least for your taste. "And it doesn't matter where you come from or where you go?"

"Adventurers are known to get restless in one place for too long."

"I see, and you can just go up a--"

"Excuse me, miss." You don't remember hearing that voice, but you recognise the attire when you turn your head just enough to be met with the sight of a cicin mage standing before you impatiently awaiting your attention. The top half of her face is concealed, as is customary, but there's no mistaking the unkind smile that tugs at the corners of her lips as you meet her gaze.

Has she come for retribution?

Despite your fears of having to make a mess, the woman reveals a letter that is sealed with wax and extends it towards you, expecting you to receive it sooner rather than later as she waves it slightly as a form of incentive. "From the Damselette," she adds.

"What could the Damselette want with me?"

"Perhaps a warning." The words slip by, quiet but noticeable, immediately catching your attention. You raise an eyebrow at her. She's slowly unveiling her contempt at your presence; you're very aware of that fact. You are not familiar with her. It is unlikely that she ever worked under your command. However, it is possible that she might've held a certain level of regard, which has since turned to hostility as rumours of her arrogant killer run rampant. "I don't know. I'm not privy to those things."

Your eyes glance over her from head to toe in thought, scrutinising her for any indication of where her animosity came from. However, there is nothing that gives away her motives. You break your gaze away from her and glance down at the letter in your hand. "I suggest you get a better hold of your tongue. They don't like it when you're rude to their guests."

Her smile does not waver. "You are not a guest." She states that fact with glaringly false politeness.

"Everyone who recieves correspondence from a Harbinger is a guest."

You suppose you can't fault her disdain when all is said and done.

From somewhere tucked away in her clothing, she pulls what appears to be a knife from your peripheral vision and points it at you, but you look up to find it is only a blunt letter opener balanced in the palm of her hand, waiting to be picked up.

"I was ordered to stay until you had read the letter to deliver her your response."

Just as she believes you are a murderer, the letter addresses you as such. Your lies have reached her ears. Moreover, she is playing along with them.

You expected threats and unfair deals, but it is only an update on what is happening regarding your position, the reassurance that they have not violated the terms of the agreement made. A half-hearted apology and an excuse. Preparations set them back, supposedly.

While you imagine preparing not only a funeral but a ceremony to announce the next Harbinger does take time, it would not take this much time with how prepared they were to kill you off in the first place. It was a planned betrayal.

It just looks better if they don't appear so prepared.

For whatever reason, perhaps your consolation prize for enduring her shameless lies, she shares a secret with you. As you casually scan the letter with little care for its contents, your attention is immediately drawn to the heart of the matter. It's the very subject on everyone's minds and all that anyone speaks of.

Il Capitano. His name is Il Capitano.

Personally, you would not have picked it, but that does not mean that you hate the name. Quite the opposite, in fact, as you have to admit that when you envision the name paired with his face, it suits him well. She ends the letter promising that she will 'take good care of him', though you know that your respective ideas of those words do not align or even coexist in the same universe. There is an unmistakable discrepancy between her intentions and your own, and you don't like it.

"Come back to us, Brighella. You can watch everything you wanted in person."

You won't go back. It's a trap.

Irritated, you find yourself back in the heart of the country where nobody lurks, haphazard in the way you fire your arrows at every creature that dares to disturb your sense of peace. It's hard to focus, and you don't bother trying. Liyue is not the same as Snezhnaya, with open plains broken up by rocky mountains. The creatures are mostly the same, and all die the same, hilichurls and geovishaps running rampant and shot down into piles of meat and rocks.

It doesn't matter how loudly you shout, as there's nobody around to hear it. You could scream, cry, and throw a tantrum all you want, and it won't matter. Even if you throw yourself at the ground and bang your head into the dirt, nobody will see it.

This is all pointless. You will never escape. It will never matter how far you roam or how fast you run.

Why did you think you could? Had your brain melted from your head?

There is no other side. There is no salvation. You are owned from the day you're brought in until the day you die, but why? Why did they want to bring you back to Snezhnaya? What was the point? You are out of the way now, hardly causing trouble for them. Despite this, everything seems to be running smoothly, even with the liberties you have taken in your new role. Was that it? The reason they wanted you to see?

It must be. There is no other reason to risk exposing the lie otherwise. Unless it was to tarnish the Fatui's reputation.

You refuse to believe it is something as innocent as wanting to see your request honoured. Nothing is innocent within the Fatui, not an action without hidden intentions or motives. Centuries of watching their misdeeds from the inside, which always go unpunished and unchallenged by anyone except the powerless commoners, have taught you that there is always an ulterior motive lurking behind their actions.

Not to mention it came from Columbina.

You must've spent three days out there before finally returning to Wangshu Inn, dirtied by the elements and craving something to eat, like a child's insatiable desire for sweets. The dead of night provides a cover for you to take a dip in the water beside the inn in an attempt to rinse the dirt and sweat off of you. It dawns on you that your new clothes would've been ruined if you hadn't had the foresight to change before venturing out again. In that moment, thoughts of the Fatui and the memories evoked by your armour flooded your mind, and you didn't want the same thing to happen to the clothes that had made you so happy from the moment you put them on.

It feels childish how you cling to these things.

A part of you just can't help it, torn between holding onto the memories that define who you believe yourself to be and starting anew with a clean slate. Neither can win. One is stuck on the past and what little you have of it, and the other wants to abandon all of that and start completely fresh.

The half-compromise you are trying desperately to make work by accepting that what's gone is gone while keeping your armour close to your heart is obviously not working. The thought of discarding it pains you too much to actually do it, plagued by the urge to melt it down to scrap metal while also being overwhelmed by the knowledge you will regret doing that as soon as you see the mess that would be left of it.

Your new clothes make you happy, so you need more new things to make you even happier, right? If new means you glean happiness, then more new is what will help you move past all of this deliberation in your head.

Clothes were a given, and...maybe a haircut? Yeah. You should try cutting your hair and decide on a name for yourself that isn't Brighella. Something you want, a name you like, that you can look at yourself and see that person reflected in a mirror. The person you think you are supposed to be when you look past the expectation that has been instilled in you.

That merchant you spoke to mentioned the Adventurer's Guild might have a place for you. What if you should be helping people instead of hurting them? What if you only did that to please the Tsaritsa?

In the background of your thoughts, you walk yourself back to your room at the Wangshu Inn and collapse onto your bed, thinking. Though you are exhausted, you cannot bring yourself to sleep for one reason or another. You make excuses for yourself just to ignore the glaring root of the problem you know is there but refuse to acknowledge. The problem isn't really how hot or cold the room is or the texture of your blankets and how much you dislike the humidity in the air. Something else entirely is keeping you from rest.

Your hair isn't the problem either, or your clothes. Even your lack of a proper name really doesn't bother you. They're only the illusion of change you're using to cover up how truly lost you have become now that you have to think for yourself.

How long have you been alive now? Centuries at least. You can't even live independently after that long? No. No, you can't.

You are so lonely, you are lost, you are confused. You need company, you need guidance, and you need purpose. How are you supposed to live? Where is the person who will tell you what to do every day?

You have to make that choice yourself? You can't do that. You've never done that.

The thought of even something so basic scaring you so severely brings you to a weakness you never realised you even possessed. Fear surges through the very depths of your being, an unfamiliar sensation that you find unsettling. You don't like it, but it's an impossible feeling to push down and ignore. Over the years, you had quietly collected your shortcomings into a neat little jar and pushed it aside, out of sight, away from your conscious thought, as if pretending you were invincible.

What would you have done if you had gotten to Capitano? Make him decide?

He can't. He's not human. He doesn't know enough to decide. You've only made him just like you, a fearsome man until he's abandoned and vulnerable like you have become, and then he'll be pathetic and helpless too.

Nothing came out of any of your efforts, did it? It couldn't have possibly. Even with every attempt you made, it was always doomed to fail.

It turns out that the Adventurer's Guild was more than happy to take you in, in a way. They put you right to work. It helps to take your mind off of things if nothing else. It's mindless work, able to tune out everything in your brain and run on auto-pilot. You take to this life so well it scares you, completing your tasks with so little trouble you wonder how this isn't more popular, even if some are arguably unnecessary. If only you were good at proper cooking, you might get rich from the tens of requests for certain dishes.

You're irresistibly drawn to the combat, right back to the heat of battle where you feel truly alive. In all you've had to question, your love for the thrill of fighting has never been up for debate. You're unsure whether it's the adrenaline or something else, but you don't care to know, either. You don't concern yourself with such questions. It's not important to you why, so long as you find comfort in it. It's the one thing you cannot be robbed of.

A hard day's work is always rewarding.

"Make sure you be careful today." A fellow adventurer is quick to catch you before you can wander off for your next quest, smiling and unbothered despite his words. You've never met him, but he speaks as if you have.

Something about the bond of adventurers is so reminiscent of the Fatui.

You turn back to place your full attention on him rather than the grilled tiger fish you had acquired out of curiosity about the taste. "Why's that?" You're not too bothered, expecting him to tell you that it's dangerous out there, the Abyss Order existing and all.

"The Fatui are restless."

His words catch you off-guard, light in tone as they are. In outward appearances, he's mostly unbothered, while the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

You try to grasp your bearings just enough to speak. "They don't do that for fun." Something about it is just as shaky as you expected, unable to fully mask it, but you figure he'll blame it on nerves.

"Harbinger, apparently." He doesn't draw attention to your demeanour, so neither do you.

"Which one?"

"Dunno."

It's probably Columbina. Maybe you pissed her off when you shot the messenger. Yeah, she probably wouldn't appreciate that. When you did it in a fit of anger, you expected her to find it funny after coming to your senses.

"Hey. Something wrong?"

You startle as you realise he had been speaking that whole time, and you just weren't listening.

"Sorry?"

"I said it's weird that they'd be up and about so soon after the newest was officially promoted."

You deadpan a little, realising it wasn't something of actual value, just a misconception that the greatest powers that be in Snezhnaya aren't spiteful enough to hate each other just as much as they hate everyone else. "Not really. They're not particularly sentimental."

"They don't even care to go out drinking for their own?"

"They hardly know how to tolerate each other." You realise your slip of the tongue too late, seeming too familiar. That's a problem. He barely draws attention to it, only making a strange face.

"Well, whatever the reason, work doesn't stop for them."

In silence, you agree and continue your day as if you really believe that.

As you wrap up your work for the day, you feel a sense of pleasant exhaustion wash over you. It struck you as strange that nobody was out in the wild, even the usual fatuus you avoid. Something about it was uniquely eerie. It dawns on you why he came to the conclusion that the Fatui were 'restless'. They must have retreated into the city to prepare for the impending arrival of the Harbinger destined to disrupt the small peace you had found. The sudden influx of fatuus in Liyue would make it seem like they are increasing in numbers nationwide when in reality, they are just moving.

You're not going to let it bother you for now.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you know you have promised yourself that repeatedly and have found it to be a lie, but you mean it this time. You're familiar enough with the workings of the Fatui to know that they don't like to leave sectors alone for too long, and Liyue had spent a fair time before your dismissal unchecked.

Even at night, you remain unbothered when you wander Liyue for a time, looking for something to do and notice what he was talking about.

Many of them are fussing more than usual, meaning that chances are it's too late to inhibit the process of this Harbinger arriving. You could turn tail and run, scurry off to the other side of Teyvat and settle in Fontaine or even Natlan, but you like it here.

You sit in the heart of Liyue, listening to a speaker tell his stories. You know you shouldn't linger, but you tell yourself you can for just a little while longer. It reminds you of the past, filled with Liyue legends you remember hearing about as news at the time they took place. The fact these tales are now old enough to be suitable for a speaker's recitation as 'legends' is a grim reminder that maybe you're older than you realised. Your early life is now from the time of legends. You can push that feeling aside to focus on the nostalgia of hearing these stories.

Beside you, you hear the chair move but don't budge from looking to see who it is, assuming that all other chairs are taken or that it's an adventurer who got curious, possibly even the man you had spoken to earlier about all of the Fatui--

“Reminiscing, Brighella?”

You recognise both that voice and that name and go stiff, eyes finding her before your head can even turn in her direction.

In front of you—or rather, across from you—the Knave sits upon the other chair at your table as if she was always supposed to be there, seemingly at ease, but you know better than to assume her guard is down. Arlecchino has always had an icy composure, though she can be hot-headed at times and can lose her temper when provoked. It's not surprising that she was able to track you down, even without knowing what your face looks like.

She turns to you leisurely, unhurried. "I came to look for you since you missed the ceremony." It sounds like a greeting the way she speaks those words. You suppose it is one, really.

Ah, maybe you should've been worried after all.

You try to play off your emotions as if you're completely unfazed by her presence. It's the only way to maintain some semblance of control. "Did Columbina not like my gift?"

"Oh, she rather enjoyed it." Arlecchino maintains a similar composure, knowing approaching you in public means employing subtlety as much as it means she's less likely to be attacked. "She felt it was just the kind of gift you would give."

"I try my best not to disappoint." Your response is less enthusiastic than you might like, a hint of nervousness infesting your brain and refusing to budge.

Despite this, she doesn't notice, not outwardly. Really, that means nothing, as you are very aware of how good her poker face is. "Il Capitano hasn't stopped speaking about how much he'd like to kill you. You don't want to disappoint, do you?" When you were waiting for her to speak, those weren't the words you expected to hear, but somehow you're not fully surprised either.

"I see, so my lies reached even his ears."

You thought as much.

"I think you'll be quite surprised when you see him." Her reply is so cocky that you almost scoff at her.

"Who said I would be seeing him?" You try to match the audacity she had to make such a remark.

She turns to you rather casually for the words she speaks, an odd tone you can't quite place, lacing her words half like mockery. "You miss him, don't you?"

It's that question that makes you snort and turn away as you realise that her negotiation and persuasion skills are abysmal for such a cunning and intelligent woman. "Not enough to become foolish enough to trust someone whose title denotes them as dishonest and untrustworthy." You always wondered about that, really. "A name like 'the Knave' really isn't subtle."

"Funny." She doesn't laugh or even smile. "I believe yours was something close to 'bother'."

You lean back in your chair, testing it slightly as you push the front legs off the floor as a means of entertaining yourself through this frankly dull conversation. "Then I suppose we're both living up to our names."

She remains silent for several seconds, pondering her next words. You can see her fingers rub against the wood of the chair as a distraction.

"The others told me it was pointless to try to bring you back."

"They were right."

"You won't come back for any reason?"

"I know a trap when I see one."

"Of course."

Silence, again. You don't care to break it, either. You came to hear the stories, and you really would like to continue that rather than listening to her voice, but she's not making it easy.

"Is that all now?" Your voice shows your impatience more than you might like, but you realise it may work in your favour if she senses she's annoying you.

For the first time in a while, she smiles faintly to herself. "For now. Your answer is abundantly clear." She appears to concede, if only for a little while

You let the chair land back on all of its legs and lean your elbow on the table.

"Are you going to get out of that chair?"

"No."

"And why is that?"

"It's comfortable."

The urge to roll your eyes brims in your mind, but you stop yourself. You don't want to give the Knave the satisfaction of knowing something she is already well aware of. Besides that, you don't want her to know that you really don't want her here in any capacity. Arlecchino's presence is never a good thing.

You let out a tentative breath as you consider your next words quite carefully. The wrong thing might have Arlecchino never leaving you, and the right one might drive her back to Snezhnaya if you're lucky. You shift your whole body to face her. "You just arrived from Snezhnaya, I take it. What do you want to eat?"

She eyes you suspiciously, scrutinising you for any sign of trying to fool her into consuming poison or making herself sick. "You're feeding me now?"

You pretend you don't notice her intensity. "Well, you're not leaving. It would look strange for me to order food for myself."

Again she smiles to herself, a light mockery that's cautious and testing, easing herself into accepting your offer. "I wasn't aware you cared so much."

"You could starve if you'd prefer." You turn away as you speak and don't look back, shifting yourself back in your seat to be front-facing.

There's a quietness between the two of you, both waiting for the answer to your proposal. You have an inkling Arlecchino will accept, but you don't know with her. She never seemed especially pleased by the times the Jester would convene you all over meals and such, ending up in fights and bickering. She never fought with you, however, so perhaps it's different.

"Order whatever you like."

You find yourself looking intently at a list of the options on the menu. It's quite a lengthy list. "Mm..." Even though it's just a false invitation and you're doing it to be courteous, you can't say you aren't enjoying the thought of picking out a meal and sharing it with her. Despite your removal from the Fatui's affairs for some time, you'd be lying if you thought you weren't at least a little curious. "Jade Parcels...and maybe Jade Fruit Soup? But Dragon Beard Noodles sound good too..."

Becoming slightly irritated by your indecision, Arlecchino looks across the table to where you are sitting deep in thought. "Is it that complicated of a decision?"

You spare her only a glance before returning to looking for something she would enjoy. "I have to pick something you'll like, don't I?"

Soup is more challenging to share than noodles are.

With that, your decision is made, and you settle. Despite yourself, you are somewhat restless in thought. Arlecchino's lack of contribution is slightly frustrating, but it sounds like she'd be content with anything. You're not sure if your choice is the correct one, but you believe you picked something to the best of your abilities that is easy, even to a foreign tongue. As far as you know, Arlecchino is from Fontaine. You've never eaten like this with Arlecchino to know her tastes or dietary restrictions.

"Jade Parcels and Dragon Beard Noodles. Sound good?"

"It'll do."

"Good. I'll go order it, then."

Arlecchino must be surprised that you returned, as she doesn't seem too thrilled. She never really does, but there was a disappointed glint in her eye right up until you walked in front of her to get to your chair.

It continues until you get the food, and Arlecchino finally stares at it with an overwhelming sense of dread, left with an intense feeling of apprehension regarding whether. You appear not to hesitate, though this arrangement isn't quite what she had expected. Arlecchino had thought you would order enough dishes that you wouldn't have to share, but you seemed to understand it in a way that meant you would be eating from the same bowl.

You notice her hesitation almost immediately, yet your vexation with her arrival makes you unwilling to acknowledge that you know the reason, a deliberate miscommunication on your part. "Mm. I didn't think this through." Your words seem to make her perk up as if you will free her from her awkwardness by asking for another bowl. "You probably aren't used to using chopsticks, are you? Not many dishes that need those back home."

She knows you're toying with her, that sweet smile from across the table hardly hiding your true intentions. Arlecchino waits, watching to see what you will do next, as she looks back at you with a scowl.

Her eyes do not leave you as you wordlessly collect a Jade Parcel and present it to her like you are patronising her with this action. Your feigned kindness, this supposed benevolence of you offering to feed her like a child, no doubt hoping she'll back down and excuse herself completely.

She won't let you do that and have the satisfaction of seeing her back down. She won't allow you to break her facade of acceptance.

Though you circle the food in front of her slowly, only a motion with your fingers trying to convince her or make her as uncomfortable as possible, Arlecchino continues to stare for several more moments. Eventually, she musters the courage to relinquish some of her pride.

Arlecchino leans in slightly, just enough to open her mouth and take a bite from the food you hold out for her. Despite the circumstances that led to this moment, she can't help but acknowledge your good taste. Arlecchino couldn't possibly eat another bite that way, though. Not being fed by the woman who is now her adversary just to avoid her 'winning' in the situation, but admitting she is willing to let you get under her skin is not an option either.

She must treat this situation differently, as if you are merely feeding her out of obligation to her rather than because you have your own motives.

It hardly stops her from enjoying her portion of the meal from the chopsticks you share with her. At some point, it finally occurs to her that you only hold one pair, leaving her set untouched despite feeding her. You had been feeding her with the same set you ate with the entire time, and while you were well aware of that, it hardly seemed to alarm you as much as it alarmed her.

Your biggest disappointment was being unable to get rid of her that whole time, watching her readily accept whatever you tried to use against her. Watching a Harbinger practically bow their head and obey you, however, fuels your consciousness. It's like eye candy to think back and realise you did that.

It's another one of your quiet defiances against the Tsaritsa. You wonder how far you can take it.

As you stand from your seat, you stretch your arms above your head until you hear a faint pop as all the tension in your back relaxes. "I don't imagine you'll be leaving anytime soon."

"No. I have plenty of business outside of you." It's not a lie. She's got a lot to do in Liyue even without your presence, but you're a priority.

You lean back over your chair, a mischievous little look on your face. "Do tell."

"You know that I can't do that." She's not amused by the attempt, either.

You straighten back to your usual height and brush it off in moments. "Unfun. I thought your loyalty to the Tsaritsa could be won over easily."

She scowls. "Not by you."

"I see. You have standards after all."

She chooses to ignore your comment. Up until now, you have had quick-fire conversations, sometimes interrupted by a silence that drags on. This is no exception.

"Capitano truly believes you are dead." Arlecchino realises when she has caught your attention, and that time is now. She notices how your head tilts towards her ever so slightly, and your head raises. "For a time, he grieved, but it didn't last long. He has become fixated on the idea of revenge ever since he heard that Brighella's killer was running around boasting about their achievements with the authentic armour to support their claims."

Suddenly it makes some small amount of sense in your mind why they would want you to come back exactly. Capitano won't stay put forever. If he's stuck on vengeance, he won't rest until he exacts it. You weren't thinking about how much your stories would piss him off at the time.

When you spend an extended period of time silent and seemingly disinclined to answer, Arlecchino continues. "I want to show you to him."

You have subjected him to human emotions he's not equipped to deal with. Rightfully, you feel horrible like more of your failures are being wrenched from your corner and dumped out into the open for all to see. It doesn't matter that you're in Liyue, where nobody knows the two of you. You don't want them to see either.

"He wouldn't want to see me." You don't think she really wanted to hear those words when you finally speak. Her expression gives it away. "He should enjoy his position without my interference. I've ruined his life enough."

"You've given him power and status, he should be grateful for that--"

"No. He shouldn't." You don't even wait for her to finish. She hasn't even realised it yet. Not the way you've been forced to. That power is a detriment, not a blessing. Why should he want that? "I thought that way as well, but now I…I don't think my choice was the correct one."

Arlecchino was not expecting to evoke your vulnerability, shallow as it may be for now. "What choice?"

"To bring him back from the abyss."

From a purely objective perspective, taking in Capitano was the cause of everything. Arlecchino presumably thinks of it in the way you don't want her to, that you regret taking him in because he ultimately ruined everything for you, causing your world to fall apart. You don't. You wish you hadn't dragged him down with you.

Now Capitano still dealing with the consequences of your choices. He was perfectly satisfied where he was and would've remained that way had he not been caught up in your plans. It was your arrogance that made you think Capitano would prefer to come with you. At no point in your first interaction had he indicated he was displeased in his circumstances, only hostile because humans were so close to him. It is an understandable thing, considering that humans were a foreign concept to him and potentially posed a threat.

"Because he overtook you?"

There it is.

Despite her words, she appears to have dropped her irritated expression and the impatience in her words and actions. You are finally speaking, and she won't lose that opportunity to an avoidable break in her temper.

"No. No, nothing like that." You try to find the words to explain it, even knowing she likely wouldn't understand it in her current position. You doubt she could ever comprehend it with how she treats her loyalty. "It's more like… Off the record, though I was cherished for many years, even I eventually became disposable. I have left Capitano in the hands of the person who caused that, and now I have damned him to the same fate."

Arlecchino is silent in thought, mulling over your words with great care. The tone of the conversation shifted right under your noses, and with it, so did her demeanour. She became relaxed in a way, though you imagine no less guarded than she always is. "I fail to see how your performance declined. In fact, you are more necessary now than you have ever been."

"I see." In your head, that means she's on your side to a degree. "So you believe that my termination was a mistake?"

"A grave error at best." Her words only confirm the way you thought of it. "Even if you had declined in performance, the people have begun to question more than ever, which sabotages the political landscape of Snezhnaya for those who care about it, the same people who stood idly by while you were ousted. Those who oppose the Fatui are pushing the notion that we must be weaker than we appear, because if even Brighella could die, then what does that say for the rest of us."

Though you wish you could say that concept was inconceivable, the idea that those fighting for reform would seize upon your demise as a means to spur change. It's not shocking that everyone else has been called into question, either. Though it is easy to push the role of frontrunner onto the Director, his duty is mainly administrative, as is the case with many high-ranking positions. His wrath is quick and brutal, and sparse. Dottore is too busy with his disgusting hobbies, and Columbina must remain in the light as a figure they can cling to. That leaves the position of Fourth as the one who is publicly the most violent and ruthless, which used to fall to you.

"I see. Is that why they want me to come back?" You don't expect an honest answer as you ask that question, half anticipating another play at your heartstrings.

"No."

Frustratingly, she doesn't elaborate.

"I'll only agree to return if Capitano is free to do as he wishes."

She scoffs, somewhat returning to her brash attitude. "Even if I could make that decision, we're well past the point where that's a possibility."

You know that she's correct in that.

Still, you can't stop the sight you let out. You knew the request was wonderful in theory but inconceivable in practice, but asking never hurt anyone. "Then what do you want from me? I take it that though I'm only a stagehand, my part in the theatre is not yet over."

"Is that how you see it?"

"Answer my question."

"Execution."

You pause at her answer.

"Execution?"

You're not even sure you heard her correctly. The execution of who? Brighella has already been put to death, and Capitano has barely warmed his seat among the Harbingers. Nobody left in this is worth killing, given the precarious nature of the Fatui's support in the aftermath of Brighella's murder. It was already unstable, and now things are just worse, with no better word to describe.

You doubt they made the decision lightly.

"Execution. Your execution for the murder of Brighella and crimes against the state."

Your nerves instantly spike again, and your guard is higher than ever. At any moment, you could need to draw your bow and fight her because even though you're unsure of how to treat this life, you're not ready to give it up. No foe has scared you before, and neither will the prospect of rebuilding from square one.

"I see, so you've come to extradite me."

"You read my intentions horribly. I'm impressed you managed to make it so far like that."

You furrow your brows in annoyance. "Then what?"

"The values of the Fatui no longer align with mine." The assertion draws your attention more than anything else. You have always been aware that she is unconcerned with the ideas of loyalty and honour, which you can't fault her for. Abiding by the code of honour the Tsaritsa instilled in you left you here.

You may be completely wrong, but she was so vague and doesn't seem to be waiting to say anything else. "Is this your way of telling me you're deserting the Fatui?"

"No."

"Then what?"

"You so happen to be someone I like."

You're startled by that as well. As far as you were aware, the decision to do nothing in the face of your dismissal was unanimous. You thought Capitano was your only remaining ally. Even if she's the lowest ranking, that is not indicative of power in an objective sense but of authority. In a sense, she is the new 'you' of the Harbingers, as she always was to a degree.

Blame for the disorder is shifting in your absence to her.

"Because I cleaned the messes you now manage?"

"Because you aren't cowardly and fixated on politics but inhibited by them. You are a model of what is right." You can't say you follow what she's saying but allow her to continue. "Pulcinella and even Pierro refuse to travel abroad, always making excuses to shirk their jobs when faced with danger in order to comfortably remain in luxury. From the day I joined, you stood out to me in that way."

You raise an eyebrow at her, unimpressed by whatever she's trying to do right now. "Are you trying to flatter me into coming back?"

"I was telling the truth." She doesn't look impressed, either.

You feel a little embarrassed by that, suddenly feeling as though you really had responded quite rudely to an innocent statement. "Hearing a person idolise me is strange," you admit.

"It's not idolising." Her correction is sharp.

"Sounded close enough."

Silence again, as with the pauses scattered around the rest of your conversation. You aren't catapulting the topic into something of great interest or progressing, and neither is Arlecchino. Her lips press into a thin line trying to hide any cracks and stifle any emotion that slips through.

"I admire you."

You did not realise such a thing was possible, really.

"I thought you may have remembered the times we shared and think fondly of it, but perhaps not. We fought once- maybe twice- before. We drank together. Nothing else."

To end that statement with 'nothing else' as if to reduce every conversation, interaction, hour and experience to ashes is thoughtless at best. You didn't remember either instance in which Arlecchino believes you fought and still don't, though you try to now that you have come to find it apparently happened. If it did, the chances of you actually remembering is slim to none with how your memory is. It's not that you forget things quickly, but that minor events slip through the cracks in your frankly chock-full memory.

"I don't remember them, I'm sorry."

"I didn't expect you to."

Despite her words, there is a faint bittersweetness to it, the realisation you are insignificant to the person you aspire toward being like. Somewhere, even if she is aware it was always not only a possibility but highly likely, it still feels like a letdown, the fragile hope you might remember her strength. You only remember her drunken and all too enamoured by you to think properly. It is foolish of her to feel that way because you have battled many foes, and expecting you to remember all of them, let alone your underling, is unreasonable.

"You still haven't answered my question." Changing the topic, you take the opportunity to try to direct her back to what you asked in the first place. "Why are you really here?"

"The Jester gave me permission to pursue you, believing I would attempt to convince you to return to Snezhnaya after Columbina failed." As Arlecchino begins to explain, it slowly begins to make sense as the pieces fall neatly into place. "However, I have no interest in appeasing the wants of dignitaries who care only for their comfort."

You don't want that either. It's just a repeat of Capitano. "Do you understand how dangerous what you're doing is?" It's an attempt to remind her, but Arlecchino's unwavering expression tells you that reminders are unnecessary and unwanted.

"Yes, you were removed for less." She only confirms it for you. "Dottore is of the opinion that you will be forgotten, as are several others-" you imagine singling him out has something to do with them fighting all the time- "but that is simply impossible."

"Times change. You would be surprised how many things we thought would never be forgotten that humans have completely lost all knowledge of."

To her, that concept may be harder to swallow. Arlecchino has never seen the centuries roll by as you have and isn't as familiar with what does and does not remain. Even the greatest gods fell in the Archon War, and most humans cannot name any but the seven Archons. It is natural to forget and progress. The past is meant to become speculation and theory.

"I won't allow that." Abruptly she stops, though her sudden words startle you somewhat with how intense they are. That kind of illogical thought process is natural, maybe. You can't really say. "They could remember."

You shake your head in response, a firm denial before she's even begun to try and sell you on the idea. "There's no need for them to remember."

"There is every need."

"People don't glean the same admiration you do for someone they see as a tyrant."

"Then evoke fear!"

"Enough." You did not expect to have to put your foot down so harshly but do not hesitate to. "I won't entertain this."

Arlecchino grits her teeth at how easily you let go. Even though you are obviously not acclimated to civilian life, you refuse her offer that would allow you to return to Snezhnaya in a potential position of power. It is yet another failed step in the many she expected to have to take to convince you.

"Then let me hide you until some time passes."

"I'm not a precious treasure." She ignores how you roll your eyes at her, completely withdrawing how emotionally available you had managed to be. She can't let her anger take control of her again. "I can handle myself thank you very much."

You sense she will not be giving up easily.

Even if you could convince her to leave you to your devices and that you would be fine, you doubt she would accept that. However, you have a feeling she knows you intend to disappear after this conversation. You have no idea why else she would pour her heart out in an attempt to make you easier to keep hold of. If you leave, you hold the advantage.

"I cannot continue to defend your honour while you stand by and allow them to do as they please with your name."

That doesn't worry you too much when you've been contributing to it since leaving. "Then give up. Let my name be tarnished."

Arlecchno's anger finally begins to boil over despite her efforts to contain it, rage spilling from the cracks in her composure. "You cannot have forgotten everything we did together."

"Of course I have not forgotten that." Your words are more fuel than suffocation to the growing fire.

"Then accept my help and stop being so stubborn."

"There's no need to."

She grabs you by your arm before you can step away, and you can feel a chill in her hand seep into your skin, likely a byproduct of her delusion. It doesn't hurt, but it doesn't match well with how warm you are most of the time. "You would be willing to pretend you don't wish for normalcy to avoid confronting the Tsaritsa?"

"If I return to Snezhnaya, I will die." You lay it out as directly as possible, without an if, but or and. There's no room to debate this because the outcome will not change. Even if the two of you decide you're best friends, nobody else will see things that way, so it's pointless to pretend you don't see it as it has to be.

Arlecchino finally appears to consider your words more carefully, remaining silent again, but you do not interrupt her this time. You shift your focus to the icy hand still touching you and begin to channel what little you can of your vision without drawing your bow to warm her. You hope she doesn't notice it, not wanting her to find an ulterior motive in it.

"Then it is unavoidable."

You don't quite understand what she is saying until she removes her hand from you to place something on the table you shared.

Suspiciously, you eye the item as you wonder about the significance of abandoning it beyond the obvious, but you don't want to acknowledge that option. "You'll need your insignia if you wish to return." You needn't remind her of that, but it is a prompting statement.

Arlecchino shocks you with her next words.

"I'm remaining with you."

You stand in stunned silence for several seconds, replaying them over in your head. Remaining with you. She doesn't mean that, does she? This is another of her persuasion tactics, right? She cannot actually go through with this. "You're what?"

"I'm not going back to Snezhnaya."

That only confirms your fear, the chill of it rushing to the core of your being and lighting your nerves up with an icy cold. Maybe that's just the hand touching your cheek.

"You can't. You shouldn't. You should stay there."

She makes an odd face at you, half understanding of your plight and the other confused about why you care so much about what she does with her job. "In that place you curse yourself for leaving Capitano?"

"It's a comfortable position." You try to reason that way with her, pointing out the inarguable benefit.

"I don't care for comfort."

You scramble to find another reason, something else to make her give in and pick it back up. You have not gotten anything you attempted to get this night. Arlecchino didn't leave and is, in fact, intent on leaving the Fatui to continue that.

"I don't care to waste my time pandering to people who do not value what I provide for them, all the while relying on it."

That's not a reason you wish to say, but it is. It is a very real reason. You can see it in how the Fatui regards your circumstances that they have never found enough value in the mountain of work you took on. If they had, you wouldn't be having this conversation. She's right, you realise, she realised what you could not.

"Even if you do not allow it, I would be able to follow you." It's a strange thing to say, but maybe she was trying to convince you. Her arm falls back to her side.

You shake your head. "Humans tire."

"I won't be too slow."

It's different for her. Arlecchino doesn't hulk around a bulky suit of armour and a helmet to conceal her face. It is open and well-known. There will be places she can't ever travel to again. Her life will be this and nothing else, while yours will eventually become something else, as it was always supposed to. Even if you don't want to now, you will move on and find a new sense of self. She may never.

"There are grave consequences."

"I know."

"You may never know peace."

"I can live with that."

"You--"

--will question everything you have ever known. That was what you were about to say. You again come to a realisation that clears things for you. It's different. Arlecchino has not spent her whole life dedicated to serving the Tsaritsa, only a few years at best. You spent centuries. It is no wonder that she could give it all up so easily. Arlecchino only had one foot in the door in the first place.

The realisation dawning on you this way is daunting.

"...Fine. I will accept that." Though you thought you would struggle more, you also understand that it is useless to do so.

"A good choice."

The act of conceding can bring about a sense of relief and comfort. Conceding feels nice, in a way. It is a respite from constantly controlling everything to be exactly as you wish. It allows you the freedom of simply acknowledging the reality of a situation and accept that it may not align with your ideals, even if you don't necessarily like it.

You don't want Arlecchino to accompany you for her sake, but accepting that she will not share your fate of being humiliated can bring about a sense of peace. She will live however she pleases, and that means she may not want for the same future you received. Having a free will allows her to leave.

Slowly, you try to recover from the shock of the situation. As you take in a deep, quivering breath, you begin to steady yourself and attemt to process all that is unfolding.

A single question comes to your mind, a relatively simple one but significant enough to matter greatly.

"What is your name?"

CROSSPOSTED ON AO3

#♡ — kae.#✎ — one of repetition.#✦ — scenarios.#✦ — angst.#arlecchino #arlecchino x reader #arlecchino x female reader #genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x female reader #genshin x female reader

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