#he needs legitimate help and he’s even trying to change himself

[sarahsangelicdoll]

YOU GET IT 👏👏

not only that, but Rafe just needs someone kind and comforting, someone who will support him and look past his flaws, someone who’ll see him for who he is. He’ll cherish that person because so little people do that. So little people can actually see who he is, too caught up in their own self to look past his exterior and actually try to see the reason for his behaviour. Why would he want you to hurt that person? make it make sense

"yeah I don't think rafe would be a loving soft boyfriend at all." Nono, yeah I get tha– B-B-BLOCKED.

rafe has spent his entire life chasing love and acceptance. loving and soft is exactly what he'd be. he's spent his entire life making everyone afraid of him because it was the only way people would answer to him. but he wants his one sweet girl to never be afraid of him no matter what. he wants to project the love onto you that he spent forever yearning for but was always out of reach.

I personally think he'd adore someone a little younger, maybe a little ditzy and js wants to be babied all the time because I think rafe would js want someone to look up at him with huge eyes and be all like "you're so amazing" because it would mean the absolute world to him if someone would just see him as this brilliant thing instead of someone getting in the way of everything and fucking everything up (ward think of me as ur personal hate page)

rafe would one thousand percent never even so much as want to raise his voice at you because he can't bear the thought that the one person in the whole world who truly loves him and looks up to him like he's this beacon of light could ever be scared of him.

therefore, I rest my case.

[ir-abelas-vhenan]

Don't mind me, just revisiting the plot (again) and dying over this line (again). (These screenshots are going to be abysmal, but you'll get the point).

"To stop now would dishonor those I have wronged to come this far."

Yeah he's talking about Mythal (earned or not) and Felassan and Lavellan and Varric...but the way it applies to HIM, too, is what absolutely guts me.

Long post ahead...

Solas realizing that Lavellan doesn't care about how others see him or want to use him under the inquisiton, that HIS motivations as he has shared them are enough for her and worth defending against those who would tell him he's something he isn't. Solas, for the first time, being confronted with the realization that one these new elves he does not see himself in will still go to bat for him.

(Is he duplicitous? Yes. But intent on working against Corypheus? Undoubtedly).

"You came here to help, Solas, I won't let them use that against you."

“How would you stop them?”

“However I had to.”

“...thank you.”

Solas grappling with the fact that it wasn't just a one off, that this Dalish woman being faced with "hypotheticals" he's desperately been trying to get her people to entertain is jumping in head first, pushing back and disagreeing with him but never treating him worse for their differences and always admitting when he's helped shape a changing perspective. Solas daring to ask for help and marveling at the fact that he receives it, that the same woman who asked if it might some day be possible to live alongside spirits, who did not immediately shoot down his critique of THE CHANTRY REFUSING TO ACKNOWLEDGE SPIRITS AS LEGITIMATE BEINGS (GAH), who did not laugh at him for saying he preferred their company most days, this woman, is going to drop time and resources during war time preparations to personally help his friend.

And then, when he is too late and has once again failed someone he considers a friend, he disappears within himself, where he has always gone to exact punishment for the weight of the lives he believes he's betrayed. It almost works, too.

Psych. Lavellan doesn't want him to grieve alone, to stare at the place in the Fade where his friend used to be and think of all he should have done differently.

“The next time you have to mourn, you don’t need to be alone.”

“It’s been so long since I could trust someone.”

“I know.”

“I’ll work on it. And thank you.”

But does she stop there? No. She doesn't chafe at this random apostate who speaks with certainty and unapologetically delves into a past he believes worth preserving, even at the cost of questioning her culture as it currently stands.

The very woman he once thought of as a mistake that HE unleashed upon the world is asking to be a part of his, not because of what he can bring to the table, not because she needs a right hand man, and certainly not because she thinks he has some well of power and intelligence critical to winning over enemies she’s willing to join for "supervisory" purposes (cough cough hi Mythal). She bears the weight of choices that can and will lead to death, to pain, and when it wears on her she relies on him, not for solutions but so that at the end of it all she might smile with someone who knows her heart and the good she tried to do amidst a sea of terrible options. She wants to be known, no inch of her unturned, and worse, she thinks she knows him. But how could she? This is no longer who he is, it is merely the remnants of what he destroyed to make a world at Mythal's whim.

And still she unbalances him, accepts him, wants more. Solas is sharing a personality that brings him the closest he has ever been to his spirit form, and it is ENOUGH for her. Existing as he has always dreamt of is all takes to earn her loyalty, respect, and eventually love.

“You’re an admirable man. Not many people know who they are the way you do.”

“Thank you. Both for saying that and…for seeing that. Few in this world can see me instead of just seeing a pair of pointed ears”

She. Sees. Him. Every part he slowly is realizing he wants to be known for and even a few he thought he could hide. And then he gives it all up. Because he woke to a new world where spirits and elves and mages were so far removed from the role they played in Arlathan that it can only be yet another mistake he caused and must fix, never mind the fact that the dwarves have forgotten why they fled underground millennia ago in the first place.

The friend who tore him from the world he loved, urged him to take physical form? She is dead, too, never mind the fact that she ignored his urging for a different path, nevermind that he killed and tore and hurt in her name because otherwise what was losing the part of himself he loved for?

"A spirit becomes a demon when denied its original purpose.”

“It hurts. It always does, but I will survive.”

“You bound it to obedience, then commanded it to kill. That is when it turned.”

He may no longer recognize where the Dread Wolf ends and where Solas begins, but if he gives up now and permits himself the chance to remember, the pain he caused himself and others means nothing, because he did it all for Mythal and in his final discussion with her, regardless of what Veilguard tries to convey, she does not release him from his position as her agent.

And maybe that's part of why I'm so angry, because EVEN BEFORE TRESPASSER, the fragment of Mythal that ends up in Morrigan could have freed him, but she does not.

"The failure was mine," he tells her, voice trembling. "I should pay the price."

Silence.

"I am sorry." He whispers.

And do we get that "what we did, we did together" psuedo-fake ass-absolution, the one that, if given enough time and safety to put himself first he may have realised he doesn't truly need to pursue the things he deserves, that make him feel finally like himself again? No the fuck we don't.

"As am I, old friend." She murmurs.

Looking through the lens of Veilguard, this isn't an apology, it's a condemnation. It's Mythal tormenting him one more time, twisting the knife deeper, agreeing that it is Solas alone who has brought them to this point, who deserves to be punished. And then she reminds him what they are to each other, what he is supposed to be to her. What he must become again.

"It isn't abuse if I ask," Cole says in his personal quest.

"Not always true," Solas shoots back.

Var lath vir suledin. Our love will persevere.

I wish it could, vhenan.

And so he pushes onwards, spending almost a decade denying himself his true nature and regretting that he ever gave it a chance to come through because now he KNOWS that this world is different and a little broken, but it's a world he could be a part of because of the woman and the friends that made a place for him. It is a world that doesn't necessarily need to be restored as much as it might need renovation, but that is not the world Mythal demanded of him when she let him kill a remaining piece of her. And any solution but that means the hurt of taking a body, of hurting the titans, of time and time again being called on by one evanuris to fix a problem they all caused, was for nothing.

And a Pride of that magnitude, that sinister an origin, has a long, long way to fall.

So he recommits to the friend he gave up his nature for, he refuses to let himself remember that Lavellan learned the full truth of his identity and still begged him not to mourn alone. Even so, he still cannot quite forget.

He kills again. He kills again. He kills again.

He kills a friend.

He fails to prevent the Evanuris from wreaking havoc a second time, wrenches another innocent into his war, and when they ask him about the woman he calls vhenan, he feels the mask stifling him begin to suffocate. But he never lets it fall, because to surrender now is to place her broken heart atop the pile of regrets he's been holding up like Atlas crumbling beneath the weight of the world itself. Because he still thinks it selfish to want the things that make him feel like himself again, so they need to be taken off the board entirely.

And then that same uppity little shit has the audacity to tell him it's not too late, that he can turn back.

"To stop now would dishonor those I have wronged to come this far."

If he gives up now, his entire corporeal life has been a betrayal of many, but worst of all, he will have ruined himself for nothing.

But then she's there. A little older, a little sadder, and still looking at him like she did the night he almost broke and instead carefully removed any suggestion that she had ever belonged to anyone but herself.

"Didn't you hear me?" Her every action screams as she kneels to meet his gaze like he did the day he took her arm (another failure, another sacrifice he cannot let be for nothing).

The tombstone in the fade is his greatest fear, but it is not his fate. Why? She will not let it be. It cannot be his din'anshiral if she is not beside him.

Lavellan may not have understood the depth of exactly WHEN Solas first came somewhere foreign and uncertain to help, but she never once failed to keep her promise. She refuses to let his initial desire to do good be held against him any longer. And when she sees him accept that not-quite-absolution-definitely-more-of-a-power-play from the god that saw what he was capable of and molded him into a weapon, she finds her in to make sure he doesn't walk off alone to mourn again, never again will she lose him to the expectations others have of him. No doubt she wants to find a way to sink the fingers of her good hand into that spectral visage and tear it away like he wishes to do to the veil. But she is not here for Mythal. She is here for her heart, and for the man who has been carrying it since the moment her lips met his in the fade ten years ago.

“No orders to kill, no conflict with its nature, no demon.”

"There is no fate but the love we share." She tells him as soon as Mythal's too-little-too-late platitudes send shudders through his body.

Banal nadas ar lath'ma vhenan.

She forces him to see that the only remaining betrayal is to lock himself away one more irreversible time. All that's left to lose is the piece of himself he cherishes more than his greatest victories: all that he has to gain comes from making sure the love that was given to him at Skyhold, in the moment where Varric saw all he was capable of and still tried to bring him back home, was not given in vain.

It will not be so terrible a place, so unforgivable a betrayal if he can finally dare to put himself first. If, unlike that night in Crestwood, he finally gives in not to break, but to make himself whole.

There's a codex entry in Inquisiton about a spirit of wisdom who is summoned by researchers and only after a very pleasant conversation do they realize they made a mistake and never successfully bound the spirit in the first place, that it chose to speak with them of its own accord.

"I am not certain the spirit would have talked so freely had it been shackled at the time," writes the author of the entry.

I keep thinking about this alongside the datamined line of Morrigan saying, "And so, the Dread Wolf is stopped by, of all things love."

But that isn't quite right, is it?

Because in the end, of course the Dread Wolf could only ever freed by, over everything, love.

[orphiclovers]

Rereading early ORV and I have some THOUGHTS on Kim Dokja. In typical me fashion, they are unpopular. So if he's your absolute favourite character and seeing him be criticized will ruin your day, maybe skip this post, ok? Peace.

-

What is so novel and interesting about Kim Dokja is that he GENUINELY doesn't really have a knee jerk emotional reaction of outrage and empathy when seeing injustice happen. He sees something immoral and bad, but doesn't FEEL horrified and disgusted. Emotions don't drive him to attempt to fix the situation or save anyone.

Instead his moral compass is based on the simple logic that 'bad things happening should be prevented if there is an opportunity to prevent them.'

This philosophy is the most apparent in his actions in Chungmuro on the WHOLE, with the food and marginalized group and etc. But I will point out this moment in particular as an example of what I mean.

They see women be driven to prostitution to survive. Jung Heewon has an instinctive, human reaction of outrage and disgust, wants to rush in and save them and damn the consequences, while Kim Dokja is calm and rational, holding her back and saying those woman will starve if they try to help right now.

This lack of empathy (feeling strong emotions) is definitely due to childhood trauma stunting his emotional development but... that doesn't change the fact this is a legitimate part of his personality now.

Usually, when a character is 'cold and ruthless', it's because they are repressing their true feelings and forcing themselves to be unfeeling for some goal. Like Yoo Joonghyuk, for example.

But we are IN Kim Dokja's head and get to see the way he thinks, and being 'unfeelingly rational' IS what comes naturally to him.

Before you say anything, I know the Fourth Wall represses some of his emotions in certain situations and certainly helps him deal with pain and horror. But we are ALWAYS TOLD when it's active, and it isn't in these moments.

Blaming all of Kim Dokja's less than moral thoughts and behavior on the 4th wall even when there's no indication that it's influencing him at that particular moment, is not something I want to do as it feels like an attempt to scrub away his moral greyness. I choose to believe that his narration, in moments when he's not wrong or biased or 4th wall-ed, is a basically accurate representation of his character. I think the authors didn't make his narration totally 100% unreliable all the time, with no possible indication of where he's wrong or right. Because that would mean there is nothing a reader can latch onto and draw conclusions about KDJ from.

If they wanted to write about a faceless self insert with no concrete personality traits and flaws, a person you can headcanon to be anything, they wouldn't have written ORV.

I think it's okay to acknowledge Kim Dokja's first reaction to seeing a woman about to be raped is not 'oh my god...those bastards...! I have to stop this...!' but '...she might be dangerous or a hinderence in a future...'

We don't need to make excuses here and try to justify this. A moment later he catches himself thinking like this and 'shudders with disgust at himself.'

His first, instinctive thoughts that he can't control don't necessarily make him a bad person. What matters is his second thoughts and what he actually chooses to do, which he CAN control. I ALSO don't think he's wrong to feel disgusted at himself for having low empathy. His guilt is justified.

I genuinely like him even more for always picking the 'moral option' in every scenario now, than if he did it immediately with no hesitation. Because it makes empathy and compassion a constant choice he's making, and putting in the effort reflects well on what his values are.

Kim Dokja legitimately can't help but weigh everyone he meets on a scale of how 'useful they potenially are' first and foremost. He does this with strangers and also with all of kimcom too.

"Who should I save because they would be useful in the future? I wasn't Yoo Joonghyuk to be thinking about these things." At this point, chap 74, he thinks Yoo Joonghyuk is wrong and doesn't want to be like him at all and mostly calls him a psychopath. He thinks 'acting like him' is wrong and undesirable.

He has a mini arc about Yoo Joonghyuk later, goes from 'he's a bad person, I know it because I know everything about him' in chap 81 to 'maybe I don't know him at all' in chap 82 but this is before that.

Seeing people as tools and deciding who to save based on future knowledge is a thing BOTH of them do. Yet Kim Dokja critisizes Yoo Joonghyuk for it, it's his least favourite character trait that YJH of TWSA has.

And in typical Kim Dokja fashion, this similarity between them is exactly what he despises in Yoo Joonghyuk - but now we find out it's not because he finds it amoral ("I'm not a humanist" - he doesn't care about that part) but because he sees it as a mirror reflection of himself. He's projecting, as always!

In early ORV, he hates the part of Yoo Joonghyuk that is the most similar to himself. (even tho they're sort of the polar opposites too. Yoo Joonghyuk is a deeply emotionally driven person, he feels empathy and the desire to save everyone but chooses to repress and ignore this and act like a ruthless 'psychopath'. KDJ disagrees with this choice, as Kim Dokja IS an unfeeling psychopath (low empathy) but does his best to act like a decent person and not an edgelord.)

[fangsandfeels]

Can anyone explain me what the ever-loving fuck is going on with the Qunari in Veilguard?

When I learned about Treviso occupation, I thought that was the result of Qunari officially being on the warpath. The Trespasser made it clear that the Qunari have been planning their invasion for quite a while - but chose to act covertly at first. Which makes perfect sense for Qunari, this is what they do. That would have also added some delicious moments for Taash and the Vashoth!Rook.

However, in the game we have not Qunari, but the Antaam (military). Which sounds stupid. The "it's not the nation, its it's soldiers doing it" excuse already sounds stupid if you ask me, but in the context of the Qunari lore it sounds even more stupid.

So, according to the accompanying media, Antaam...rebelled and acted without sanction. They have split into groups led by warlords who squabble between themselves and try to dig deep into the land they occupied. Which is bullshit.

The Antaam, meaning "body" in Qunlat, is the military of the Qunari led by the Arishok. Metaphorically, the Antaam are the eyes, ears, legs, arms and hands of the creature, everything that one needs to interact with the world, and so most Qunari encountered by Thedosians belong to the military

Antaam listen to the Arishok and Arishok alone. Qun is built on a system where everyone knows their place - and when they're out of place, they freak the fuck out, the massacre-the-family-because-my-tool-is-lost way. So, the probability of a large group of Qunari, an entire fucking army doing something without a command, and then digging a deeper hole for themselves by warlording is extremely low. Also, by all accounts, they're stop being seen by their kin as Qunari - they are Tal-Vashoth. Because they acted on their own volition, disobeyed the order, disobeyed the Arishok. This is not how the Qun works. No matter what they say, how they call themselves - they are Tal-Vashoth.

Like, there is a reason why Qunari are terrified of not fitting their mold - not only they have no idea of what to do when things don't go as planned, but also they are scared of losing their way and becoming permanently lost. The Iron Bull had that belief that he might lose his mind because he didn't know if he should trust himself without the guidance of Qun - him being a little more flexible due to his work as a spy as well as getting people he grew emotionally attached to helped with overcoming this barrier. But far from all Qunari are that lucky. Sten was so dejected after losing his sword that he let himself be caged - he didn't care about dying or anything anymore. He couldn't go home.

...Alright, where were we?

According to the wikipedia, Rasaan (the emissary of the Triumvirate)...took the control over Antaam? HOW? Qun is extremely rigid and allows no loopholes. For a change this massive there have to be some really, really good reasons - and I don't think the Antaam would have just accepted it. Without high enough approval, Sten only acknowledges Warden as the leader after they beat his ass in a duel.

Alright, let's say Rasaan gaslit the Antaam into believing she channels the way of the Qun and they ate it up. But why do we have warlords now?

Warlords with names, like Butcher? There are no names in the Qun. This is, once again, Tal-Vashoth behavior. But at the same time, they have access to qamek? What? How? Why? How does Par Vollen feel about their entire "body" fucking off? If they didn't sanction it, why aren't they stopping them???

It wouldn't be the first time for Bioware to twist their own lore and canon, but this one is legitimately migraine-inducing. Why not make a full-scale and sanctioned Qunari invasion, Qunari are like this! It's okay to make them the baddies, their ways are fucked up already and some positives don't make up for all the negatives! Don't just slap in a bunch of guys literally called "the army" and say "Nah, not all Qunari guys, these are just military acting on their own despite their lifestyle being all about following the system and doing your strictly established duties"

[psychotic-nonsense]

NOW WITH A PART 2 AND PART 3 !!!!

Not sure if this is anything, and feel free to critique or add on or clarify and all that, but...

A few weeks post-Starcourt Steve, absolutely wrecked by the Russians and Billy. He's healing, little by little, but he knows he needs to put his pain aside to help out The Party. Especially Robin, who has not been coping with the trauma well. She's taken to spending the night at Steve's most of the time, and they help each other manage. She's not the best with physical comfort, nor is Steve with verbal comfort, but they're managing.

Yet despite the constant offers of help, Steve always refuses to "ask for too much" and often downplays his pain, forcing a smile to keep anyone from worrying. He's bottling up everything - probably handling it worse than Robin, even though he insists he's used to it and knows how to fix himself. Every day he gets a little worse, and every night he brushes off help.

It's during one of these late nights that disaster finds them again. It's Steve and Robin in his living room, and they're just about falling asleep on the couch when the ground begins rumbling, hard. An earthquake, shaking Hawkins and getting the entire Party in a frenzy. The radios are blaring with the kids' voices and Steve's trying to get Robin to stop screaming into the walkie, when suddenly there's a hole opening up in Steve's living room, and the earthquake stops. Steve and Robin go quiet, and the kids are urging for a response as they all rush to meet up at Steve's.

But he and Robin can't speak, too busy staring at the hole. One that looks way too similar to the Gates... but it glows blue instead of the usual red. Steve, ever the protector, is carefully stepping around the hole to grab a fire poker for defense. The second he does, the Party bursts in, just in time to watch the hole suddenly crack open further, sucking Steve in and closing itself behind him-

As Steve Harrington lands in the bedroom of Post-ST3-release 2019 Eddie Munson.

Eddie's living rough, bunking in his childhood friend Ronnie's basement. An orphan, can't hold a job, in his second senior year of high school purely because he knows he has nothing else to do after it. His only source of comfort so far has been DnD - either the DM hosting he does at the local library for the other poor lost suckers, or the one Netflix show with its elements that has captured his heart.

Eddie's a pretty big Stranger Things fan - it has its faults but is otherwise a really fun and interesting show - but ever since ST2, he's especially been a Steve Harrington fan. He feels like he goes mad just thinking about the implications of what that man has gone through, what all those kids have been through, and how Steve has put aside himself to focus on the kids. How much Steve has changed, and how under appreciated he is.

Since binging all of ST3 the day it released, Eddie's had a field day on breaking down this newest reformation of Steve. He adores Robin - clocked her as a lesbian from episode 1 - and loves that Dustin and Erica have been bringing out his bitchy side, while still keeping him in check. The Russian torture and strange parallels with Billy have made him cry on more than one occasion, and Steve's half-high speech in the bathroom legitimately felt like Steve finally acknowledging his change, even if for but a moment.

Ronnie's teased Eddie way too much about his "obvious crush on Joe Keery" but this feels way too personal for him to just be crushing on an actor. This is Eddie falling for the Fallen King of Hawkins himself, and it's much more embarrassing. Steve Harrington becomes his muse in every form of art; drawing, writing, character inspiration and improvisation. The Duffer brothers aren't the greatest at the rest of the show, but they've damn well got this guy down.

Hell, Eddie was halfway to crossing the last personal barrier to outright obsession (x Reader fanfiction) when the earthquake hit. In hindsight it wasn't the worst thing in the world, but Eddie had never experienced one before. He immediately dove right under his bed, covering his ears and curling up in a ball like a coward ("Nancy Wheeler would be ashamed," his weird ass brain supplies). He hears rumbling, things falling over, wood splintering and the world seemingly cracking apart all around him-

When a body suddenly lands hard on his bed with a loud scream of fear, cutting off as the whatever it is rolls straight off to the floor, and the world gives one final strain before going completely silent.

Terrified, Eddie's eyes are shut tight, cowering as the body on the floor just a foot away from him groans and gasps for air. It takes a sudden hiss of pain for Eddie to finally, carefully, crack one eye open.

Only to come eye to eye, through the gaps of his bedsheets, with the very muse he'd just been thinking of. Steve Harrington.

There's an immediate scramble of panic; Eddie bashing his skull into his bed frame trying to get out and away from the obvious hallucination, while Steve wobbles on his feet to defend himself against this strange humanoid Upside Down monster.

"What are you?! Where am I?!"

"What am- Are- You- No, you're not real- JESUS H. CHRIST MAN, GET THAT AWAY FROM ME!"

"I don't know what you're talking about, but you're gonna see how real this is if you don't tell me what's going on!"

"You think I know?! You fell into my room!!"

"Yeah, from your Gate!!"

"WHAT FUCKING GATE- WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT!?"

"I DON'T FUCKING KNOW!!"

That gets them both to shut up, just staring at each other. Eddie pressed up against the wall in fear with his hands up and out wide, Steve with the fire poker pointed straight at his neck and his hand held up cautiously. Eddie sees it, smells blood in the air, and ignoring everything, reaches out for it. Steve jabs at the air with the poker, but it's halfhearted, his energy clearly draining, too exhausted with the whole situation to try much further. Finally his arm drops, but Eddie doesn't move, watching Steve's face crumple in a way that aches everything inside his heart.

"Where am I...?" Steve pleas, tone just as desperate as the one from the Russian bunker, even when lacking its power.

Eddie fumbles for the words, but eventually just sighs. "Somewhere you wouldn't believe, my friend."

High and complacent on adrenaline and shock, Steve and Eddie just move in silence. Eddie grabs a wet cloth to clean the blood, Steve cutting off a bit of his sweatpants to use as gauze. It's just a gash from falling with the fire poker, nothing drastic, but the two stare at the cut in Steve's palm, easier to see than the one who's hand is on theirs.

Introductions are exchanged when they can finally stop shaking, and Eddie somehow drops the bomb on where and when Steve is, and what his entire existence is to this reality. Steve has a very brief existential panic attack about it, but is strangely comforted by Eddie's confidence about it all - "Even without El's powers, those kids are smart as hell. They'll figure out a way to make their own Gate and get you back home."

Then Steve just spends the next week or two in a reality almost 40 years in the future, where he and his entire existence is a sci-fi TV show. Some funny exchanges I've been thinking of:

Steve: Wait, so we're characters in a show, right? That means we have actors.

Eddie: Oh, uh, yeah, you do...

Steve: ...Think I could see them?

Eddie: Uh- Sure, I guess? Not sure what you're expecting, it's a live action thing, they look just like you.

Steve: Never getting used to your future phone... Huh, Joe Keery? Looks like a cool guy- woah, is that what my hair looks like short??

Eddie: Yup, again, literally just you.

Steve: Funny how we both have the most basic names too. Steve and Joe? Like, look at Dustin's actor, what kind of name is Gaten?

Eddie: Rude, the guy plays your little brother.

Steve: Quit bringing your fake show theories into my actual life.

Eddie: It's true though.

Steve: ...Yeah.

----------------

(Steve goes crazy after a few days of being locked in, and begs Eddie to take him out to "see the future." While they're walking around town, a group of girls suddenly freak out and rush them)

"It's Joe Keery! Guys, look it's Steve Harrington, from Stranger Things!!"

(Eddie's halfway to panicking, but Steve immediately handles the situation)

Steve: Sorry to disappoint, ladies, not him. Don't worry though, I've been getting that a lot since the show came out.

"Oh God, I'm so sorry! Hope we didn't make you uncomfortable, mister..."

Steve: Mark, and not at all! I get asked this a lot too, but do you girls want a picture? For bragging rights, getting to meet "The Steve Harrington?"

(They agree, Eddie takes it for them, the girls go on their way)

Eddie whispering: That's gonna be everywhere in 5 seconds, I hope you know.

Steve whispering: Eh, it's a crowd my actor didn't have to deal with. Besides, felt pretty good.

Eddie: Familiar experience?

Steve: For a better reason.

-------------

Steve, showing Eddie's laptop screen open to the FunkoPop website and the Scoops Duo, halfway to tears: They make figurines of me and Robin?

Eddie: Yeah, of all you guys. I've got a little Dustin on my desk.

Steve, beginning to cry from how adorable he finds it: YOU DO?

---------------

(Ronnie comes back from work early while Steve and Eddie are talking in the living room. Eddie freezes as Steve makes eye contact, and Ronnie just stares)

Ronnie: Um, hi?

Steve: Oh, hey! You must be Eddie's roommate, nice to finally meet you! I'm Mark.

(That allows a breath to finally enter and escape Eddie's throat in a bit of a laugh. Steve's really leaning into this Mark persona)

Ronnie: Ronnie, and likewise... Sorry if I'm acting weird, you're just a really good cosplayer. Thought you were actually Steve for a second.

Steve hesitantly: Nah, just a doppleganger.

Ronnie, shrugging and walking away: Well okay then, I'm way too tired to talk much more. Eds, just keep your nerd shit out of the sink-

Eddie: And stay quiet, yeah yeah, go rest, breadwinner.

(Ronnie goes upstairs, out of earshot)

Steve whispering: What's a cosplayer?

Eddie, suddenly also very tired: Tell you later.

I'm thinking that Eddie had sketchbooks, notebooks, and Word Docs absolutely stuffed full of ST character evaluation, which he immediately hid upon Steve's arrival. Maybe Steve gets bored when Eddie's out for whatever reason, and snoops around. That's when he finds it all crammed at the back of Eddie's closet. The kids, Nancy, Jonathan, Robin, Joyce, Hopper, hell Billy and Murray are in the pile. Drawings of them in their adventures, active and mundane alike. Pages upon pages of character description, Eddie's handwriting gushing about the parts of the show and characters he loves, hates, wishes was fixed, all of it.

But the part that gets Steve is one specific sketchbook and notebook, both dubbed the Steven Soliloquy. It's the same type of information as before, but only about him, and it's filled to the brim. Eddie talking about his development, his change of heart, the complete shift that Nancy and the Upside Down and the kids allowed him to have. The affects of his trauma, and how much he stuffed it down in favor of everyone else. Talked about his relationships, ones he cherishes, loathes, never thought of or never got the chance to make. Talked about "AUs," alternative realities where he got everything he ever wanted. Eddie's words, his sketches, devolve into adoration-fueled envy, wishing he could be near such an amazing man, that he was strong enough to be such an amazing man. How much his heart aches for Steve.

And if this were a normal situation, Steve would be uncomfortable, creeped out. But knowing the context of it all, Steve can't help but be enamored. That his family's journey, his entire story of survival - even when fictional to Eddie - is so valued makes it all feel a little more worth it. That there was someone out there during all of their terror, rooting for their victory, crying with their pain, screaming with their fears, understanding them because he lived through it all right beside them.

Eddie finds Steve in his room later that day, surrounded by those books. Staring at what Eddie considers his WIP magnum opus; a half-finished colored pencil recreation of the Last Supper with the entire Party, including all of the people they lost, happy and healthy. Eddie's two seconds from apologizing for how creepy it all must be - seeing how many of those books are open - but then he sees the tears in Steve's eyes. Gratitude and adoration and care, all bundled up and very suddenly staring right at him with the widest smile he's seen.

They talk about it. Eddie finally admits his minor obsession with the show, and how much they've helped him come to terms with being a self-dubbed loser. He honestly gushes way too much about what he owes to them about his life, but Steve listens to it all with complete adoration. At the end of it, Steve asks Eddie about the possibility that they've been adamantly ignoring for Steve's entire stay: actually watching Stranger Things.

And that's how they spend their last week. Starting from season 1, they sit in the living room and binge the entire thing. Steve learns an entirely new perspective about his family's adventures, not only from the show's canon, but from Eddie's theories and rants in between monumental moments. Eddie holds his hand during the scenes that focus on his worst nightmares; the Demogorgan in the Byler home, the breakup, his fight with Billy, the Russians. Steve provides his perspective on how he felt during it all, finally admitting to the pain he's gone through instead of just focusing on the others hoping it'll all go away.

Not sure where exactly it goes from here. Maybe some codependency grows between them. Maybe Steve falls a little in love. Maybe they just stay friends, the only ones who understand each other aside from their Platonic Soulmates.

Maybe, when another earthquake finally hits, opening up a Gate in Ronnie's backyard, Steve and Eddie finally must go their separate ways. Eddie promising to keep watching over them from across the realm, Steve promising to make a happy ending for their story.

Or maybe, Steve can't help but see what little Eddie has, how special Eddie actually is, and offer to bring him along. Into the very show he loves so much. Maybe Eddie convinces Ronnie that he'll be okay, swearing to be entertaining should he join the show in an important way, and making her swear that if he doesn't survive to bring him back in as much fanfiction as she can write. Maybe Eddie enters Hawkins, Indiana, and becomes a bit self aware about being in a TV show. It takes a while for everyone to warm up to the future man - and for Eddie to get used to Midwestern US in the 80s - but he becomes a close member of the Party quite easily. Maybe his involvement in season 4, his death, is avoided, and maybe it's not.

But his adoration for Steve Harrington never goes away. Not in canon, or in fiction.

[xxtha-blog]

Why Horrortale Sans is Definitely Evil

Horrortale Sans is evil. This is the opposite of a defence post, I am calling out this character and his many misdeeds! I do not know how people legitimately defend his actions or claim he’s just a normal guy who tries really hard not to eat people. I do not think we read the same comic. This is a comprehensive deep dive into why Horror is evil.

First a chronological look at Horror’s dubious actions. Not all of theses are evil and some have good justification as standalone events, but provide wider context for things:

1. He has to be convinced into helping repair the Core which he knows is broken, and has inside info he knows could help get it fixed, only when Grillby begs him to because as revealed on another page, the loss of the Core means “the fire eats at [Grillby’s] very soul like acid, perpetually burning him alive”

2. He spends a total of 12 months trying to figure out how to repair the Core but based on Undyne’s statements about how he rarely works, either means he’s a. Not actually putting enough effort into it (if we believe her and not Sans) or b. Not telling Undyne and Alphys how his work is going which is probably pertinent information for them to have (If we believe Sans, but want a reason as to why Undyne has that impression)

3. He finally brings her a solution to the Core after knowing he’s going to die (but if you want to be generous, maybe it was just really bad timing and he really did only needed a few more days to bring her a solution) and claims it’s a “long shot” meaning he doesn’t even know if it will work.

4. Undyne, thinking that is an insane plan, tells him she has a different plan. Sacrificing him to save everyone. Sans makes it clear he would never let himself die to save everyone.

5. When a guard begs him to sacrifice himself to save his wife and children, Sans launches him into the stratosphere saying: “fuck off.”

6. Even though Undyne attacks him first, it’s actually Sans that takes out her head and eye first.

7. Sans brutally murders the guards who helped Undyne.

8. When Alphys, showing Sans that her plan has objectively work and he is not dead (bonus!!), Sans destroys the Core.

He destroys the thing that will keep him, his brother, and literally every person in the underground alive. Grillby now suffers eternally, and everyone will die a slow and painful death. This does not help him in any way, does not change the fact his head is broken, he does it purely out of malice. The equivalent of getting shot, surviving, and then nuking the town you were shot in. He does not take his eye back if you thought it was to take his eye back. It’s still in the broken Core.

9. He lobotomizes Alphys

10. He gets Aliza to become a cannibal

11. He tortures and maims Aliza (let’s her get cut in half by a bear trap, pulls her hair so hard it bleeds, let’s her freeze to death in a puzzle, sends her to Grillbys where she gets partially cooked alive, cuts her arm off)

Really great guy here.

Secondly let’s get some of the common defences out of the way:

1. Sans had a plan that would save everyone! Undyne was therefore making a bad decision by trying to killing him

a. Sans says his plan IS A LONG SHOT

b. Alphys explains Sans’s plan would have taken a lot of time and magic ie. time that would get a lot of other people killed

c. Undyne’s plan actually goes better that expected! What was assumed would kill Sans doesn’t end up killing him at all. Literally a win-win for everyone involved.

d. Undyne/Alphys’s plan works, and therefore objectively saved more people. 0 net casualties if Sans had a single ounce of humanity.

2. Sans worked really hard and Undyne betrayed him. Undyne should have told him first

Undyne doesn’t tell him because she doesn’t want to consider hurting Sans despite monsters dying. Moments before Sans shows up, a child dies in a mother’s arm. Then Sans explains his plan is to dismantle the Core, which ‘might’ work, and will take a lot of effort and magic to do so, which is time they do not have (it’s been 12 months. He has had 12 months.). He also blames Undyne for getting them into this mess and mocks her for letting people die. She then attacks him. They end up both losing half their head and eye in the fight, making them perfectly even. The core’s power is restored.

But, whether or not Sans feels betrayed or not is irrelevant to the fact that Undyne makes the most reasonable and moral decision in this moment and also Sans has kind of done everything in his power to not sell his idea and piss off the person he knows is considering killing him so big L on his part for that one.

It also does not in any way shape or form justify destroying the Core, which is probably the most evil thing you could possibly do in that scenario.

3. They both are at fault for the Core/Both Evil then

There is literally a world of difference between:

“Sacrifices 1 person who ends up not dying, to save everyone. Which succeeds.”

And

“Destroys the thing that will successfully keep everyone alive, thus dooming everyone including yourself to die a slow and agonizing death, because you are angry your friend tried to kill you in an effort to save everyone”

That’s not even including the 10 other things on my list that are definitely also evil, but I cannot take people seriously if they put these two things on some sort of a moral equivalence. Undyne is in the right. 1 person for everyone is a worthy sacrifice. If anything Undyne’s only flaw is waiting so long to do it.

4. (Unrelated to the Core incident) Sans is actually morally grey, he doesn’t eat humans like everyone else which is a complex character motivation

You’re right, Sans doesn’t eat humans. Instead he finds enjoyment in torturing them brutally, a much worse thing than eating to stay alive.

His fight with hunger is also entirely self-made. Both because it’s not morally wrong to eat another living being to survive (and it’s not cannibalism to eat a human as a monster) and because he is the reason this is still happening 7 years later. It is literally his fault he is hungry. There is no interesting moral conundrum here, he does not care about hurting people. He is just out of his mind.

In conclusion, Horrortale Sans is a deeply selfish and uncaring person. Whatever minor good deeds he does throughout the comic are so immensely overshadowed by his absolute depravity that they might as well not exist. He is the reason every single monster in that underground continues to suffer, including himself, and while in his mind maybe there’s some weird justification, no outsider observer should look at these actions and think, yeah, that was reasonable. Much less think Undyne or Alphys are somehow WORSE. He destroys the Core because he didn’t die after everyone is saved, solely to be vindictive. He does not gain anything by doing this. He doesn't even take back the eye he lost which is still in the broken core! He lobotomizes Alphys because he’s mad he looks like a freak. He murders people who wants him to help everyone stay alive. He maims and tortures children and no amount of not eating them afterwards makes that any less morally apprehensible.

None of this is meant to say you can’t like him as a character. It is just to explain why characterizing him as a poor lil guy who did nothing wrong, is a little… wrong.

i believe this is an extensive look into why Horrortale Sans is evil.

Thank you for reading :)

[shadowtriovibes]

Hi! I absolutely love your fics! I have a little request/idea. Sebastian finds out that MC has a little crush on professor sharp and all of a sudden can’t stand his favorite professor. (His small crush on professor garlick is totally different and super justified)

jealousy, you got me somehow

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 1.7K

Summary: Sebastian finds out about your little crush on a certain Potions master and all of a sudden can’t stand the man. (His small crush on Professor Garlick is, of course totally different and super justified.)

“You’re sure you won’t become too affected by Sharp’s dulcet tones and neglect something important?” he asks with a smirk. Annoyed, you huff and abandon your notes at your side. “You’ve been waiting several days to bring this up again,” you grumble. “I should’ve known I wasn’t safe.”

Sebastian first finds out about your little preoccupation when he innocently stumbles upon you studying with a group of your fellow Slytherin girls in a quiet corner of the library. Or at least, it was quiet until Nerida Roberts had started to derail your entirely legitimate conversation about the uses of Dittany for an upcoming Potions exam by bringing up Professor Sharp himself.

“He’s just so handsome,” she sighs dreamily. “How am I supposed to focus on what’s going on in my cauldron when he’s standing right across the room looking all brooding and roguish?”

Violet McDowell giggles and adds, “I could listen to him talk all afternoon and I wouldn’t learn a single thing!”

“I suppose that’s why so many seventh-year girls are still taking Potions even if they don’t need it for their N.E.W.T.s,” you murmur.

“Can you blame us?” Violet sighs. “You must admit, he’s quite nice to look at.”

“Of course I think he’s handsome,” you say with a scoff. “Just because I have a boyfriend doesn’t mean I can’t see the man.”

As if on cue, Sebastian comes around the corner carrying a large stack of books on defensive magic and spots the three of you huddled around your Potions notes.

“Good afternoon, ladies,” he says with an easy smile.

Sebastian sets his books on the edge of the table and leans down next to you to steal a chaste kiss while he can. He’s seen relatively little of you this week while you both prepare for exams in classes the other doesn’t have, so not even your late-night study sessions have overlapped.

“Speak of the devil,” Nerida teases.

“Shh!” you whisper. “Enough now.”

“Not keeping secrets from me, are you?” Sebastian asks teasingly as he snags one of the empty seats.

“Of course not,” you demur. “By the way, have you got my Potions notes from last week? I think I mixed them up with yours from Ancient Runes.”

Sebastian chuckles and asks, “Trying to change the subject? I must have walked into something quite scandalous.”

“It’s nothing bad,” Nerida says teasingly. “We were just chatting about Professor Sharp.”

“Oh?” Sebastian asks, surprised. “What’s he done now?”

“Nothing,” Violet McDowell answers. “We were just saying that he’s easily the most handsome professor at Hogwarts.”

“He’s certainly your girlfriend’s favorite,” Nerida says with a smirk.

Sebastian raises a skeptical eyebrow at you, and sure enough, you’re blushing.

“Really?” he drawls. “You have a thing for Sharp?”

“No!” you whine. “I just – I really like Potions class, that’s all.”

“Of course you do,” Violet taunts. “So you can moon over Sharp during his lectures!”

You shoot Violet a threatening look and not-so-gently kick the toe of your boot against her shin underneath the table. She yelps and curses under her breath before indignantly burying her face behind her Potions textbook, and Nerida wisely avoids eye contact and doesn’t offer anything further.

After a beat, Sebastian clears his throat and says, “Well then, I, er… suppose I’ll leave you girls to it.”

He helps himself to one more kiss goodbye and you can tell by the significant look he gives you before leaving that this is not the last you’ll hear from him about your crush.

Sure enough, a few nights later the two of you manage to claim a loveseat by the fire in your common room where you can curl up against his side and revise your Potions notes one last time before your exam while Sebastian dutifully transcribes runic diagrams onto lengths of parchment.

“Are you feeling prepared for your exam tomorrow?” he asks you casually.

“I think so,” you answer. “It’s not a practical, so I can’t imagine it will be too challenging.”

“You’re sure you won’t become too affected by Sharp’s dulcet tones and neglect something important?” he asks with a smirk.

Annoyed, you huff and abandon your notes at your side.

“You’ve been waiting several days to bring this up again,” you grumble. “I should’ve known I wasn’t safe.”

“What?” he laughs. “I’m just teasing you, love.”

You narrow your eyes at him skeptically. “I’m not sure I believe you.”

“Well, it’s just… I don’t really know what you see in him, that’s all,” he murmurs, lazily turning a page in his Ancient Runes textbook.

You frown. “What do you mean?”

“I just think he’s rather foul,” Sebastian says plainly. “He’s impatient, meticulous, he’s clearly got a dark past and I truly don’t understand why all you girls think he’s obviously the most handsome man at Hogwarts. To me, he’s simply average.”

Merlin’s beard, you think. You knew Sebastian wasn’t a fan of Hogwarts’ Potions master, but you had no idea his dislike ran so deep.

“I think he’s a good professor,” you offer quietly. “He’s always been quite helpful to me, especially when I needed to master healing potions, and he saved my life in the Repository.”

“How generous of him,” Sebastian mumbles.

Angrily, you sit up a little straighter and pluck Sebastian’s quill out of his hand so he’ll look at you.

“And what about you?” you demand indignantly. “While we’re on the subject of good-looking professors, I happen to know that you turn into a stammering, blushing fool whenever Professor Garlick is nearby.”

You know for a fact that Sebastian Sallow is not an idiot, which is why it’s all the more frustrating when he tries to deny something you’ve known about for months.

“I do not!” Sebastian protests. “That’s – that’s ridiculous.”

You scoff and roll your eyes. “You are not a subtle person, Sebastian, nor are you particularly good at being punctual, yet somehow you’re never late to the greenhouses.”

“W-well, I’m rubbish at Herbology so I like to make sure I won’t miss anything important,” he lies.

“Maybe you wouldn’t be quite so rubbish if you actually listened to the professor instead of staring at her chest for the entire lesson,” you grumble.

Sebastian goes bright red. Clearly, he had no idea you could see him doing that.

“Look,” he whines. “It doesn’t mean anything, I just think she’s nice to look at is all.”

“And I’m not allowed to think Professor Sharp is handsome?” you counter.

“It’s different,” he insists. “You actually like him, it’s not just an attraction.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you hiss.

“It means he’s a powerful wizard, a brilliant duellist and he’s a former Auror for Merlin’s sake,” Sebastian angrily confesses. “I couldn’t possibly measure up to that.”

You feel your heart break a little when you realize what this is truly all about ��� your love’s relentless insecurities, the same ones he’s battled for many years now.

Softly, you ask Sebastian, “Do you actually feel threatened that I might leave you for a professor? We’re seventeen, Seb.”

“It’s preposterous, I know,” he sighs. “But I just… I feel like I could never compete with him.”

“Sebastian,” you croon as you take your hand in his lap. “I want you to listen to me very clearly, alright?”

You wait patiently for him to meet your gaze before you continue.

“As you said, Professor Sharp is impatient,” you agree. “He’s also meticulous, and maybe he does have some darkness in his past. But you also said that he’s a brilliant duelist and a powerful wizard. Do you know who else has all those traits?”

Sebastian swallows nervously and squeezes your hand a little tighter.

“You do, love,” you say softly. “So perhaps the reason I’m fond of him is that he reminds me of you.”

“I’m not an Auror,” he points out a little sullenly. “And I’ve never saved your life.”

“Not yet you aren’t, but we both know that’s why you’re studying for Ancient Runes so much lately,” you say with a fond smirk. “And since I’ve saved your life plenty of times, I’m sure you’ll return the favor someday.”

Wordlessly, Sebastian tugs you against his chest and presses a soft kiss to the top of your head.

“I love you so much,” he murmurs into your hair. “I’m sorry for being such a prat.”

“Apology accepted,” you whisper into his chest. “And I love you too, you fool.”

He holds you close for a while after that, nose buried in your hair while you listen to his slow, even heartbeat through his uniform shirt. When he finally lets you sit up so that he can kiss you properly – not one of those chaste ones from the library – you find yourself halfway in his lap before you even realize you’ve shifted.

For Merlin’s sake, your notes are in a messy pile on the floor now.

You huff and try to climb off of him to gather them up, but Sebastian coaxes you back to him with a single finger on your chin, his eyes firmly fixed on your lips. By the time he’s kissed your frustration away, you can’t even remember what you were supposed to be studying for.

“We should bicker more often,” Sebastian says with a satisfied grin, his lips slightly swollen.

“On that subject, I was just wondering…” you ask him with a teasing smile. “Is there anything Professor Garlick has that I don’t? Should I be worried?”

“Absolutely not,” he murmurs as he flicks open the top button of your shirt. “Truthfully, you both have two very nice things in common.”

“You’re foul,” you tell him simply.

“I meant that you’re both kind-hearted and beautiful,” he says smoothly.

You’re positive that you know exactly what Sebastian meant and appreciate the compliment nonetheless. In fact, he’s being so sweet that you even let him undo a few more buttons while you can take advantage of your seclusion.

The next day during your Potions exam, while your female classmates are undoubtedly slipping in and out of pleasant daydreams about your alluring professor, all you can think about is Sebastian’s lips on your neck and his hand inside your shirt as he’d whispered all sorts of electrifying promises about what he’ll do to you after you turn in your parchment.

It’s a fierce struggle to focus on Dittany of all things with that in the back of your mind, but Professor Sharp is nevertheless pleased when you end up being the first to submit your completed exam and then promptly excuse yourself from the dungeons.

[actuallysaiyan]

No Other Heart(Executioner!Kenpachi Zaraki x Fem!Princess!Reader)

warnings: smut, mentions of violence/executions, Fantasy AU!, canon divergent, loss of virginity, oral sex(Fem!Receiving), use of pet names(little dove, princess), reader has pubic hair, slight tummy bulge kink, use of Sir, Kenpachi is an executioner, creampie finish/unprotected sex word count: 3k!!! pairings: Executioner!Kenpachi Zaraki x Fem!Princess!Reader a/n: this is for the lovely Vero(@yeowangies) who's helped me so much with this idea! <<_<< Knight Renji might be the next instalment in this kind of Fantasy series!

Sometimes you feel like a bird trapped in a cage. The princess who’s never allowed to leave the castle. They say it’s for your own good, but you never really know about that. Hiding you away in the castle seemed to only hinder you. For hours, you’d stare outside your window and wish for freedom.

The only thing that seemed to brighten your days was your bodyguard, Sir Kenpachi. Everyone else was terrified of the large and intimidating man, but you always found comfort in him. He kept you safe whenever you were allowed to leave the castle. He accompanied you anywhere you needed him to. And whenever he wasn’t your bodyguard, he was the royal executioner.

You remember when you were a child, you had seen him once splattered in blood and gore. It scared you so deeply, and you had cried in your sleep that night. It had only gotten worse when he was assigned as your bodyguard. You shuddered at his scary face and threatening demeanor. He was such a horror to be seen, such a terrifying image that was burned into your mind. The more you witnessed him after the job he did, the more you found yourself so terrified of this man.

As time went on, you became intrigued by the big man who’s in charge of keeping you safe. You even began to enjoy seeing him covered in blood. Knowing that he’s the man who would kill anyone to keep you safe, it made your heart race like nothing else. This man was the only one who could keep you safe. And slowly but surely, you realized you were enamored by him. He was the only person who could truly keep you safe. The only man you could trust outside of your own father.

The rumors about him being a virgin killer only confused and aroused you even more. You were pure yourself, knowing you’d be pure until your wedding night. But Sir Kenpachi was known as someone who sleeps almost exclusively with virgins. And you shuddered whenever you thought about the second meaning to that term. Maybe he was someone who also found himself having to kill the pure and the innocent.

You knew that as time would go on, you’d be too invested and attracted to the man who was in charge of killing others. The man who’s kept you safe since you were a young woman until this very day. And now that you’re older, you’re finding yourself so interested and intrigued by the idea of having sex and falling in love. 

It was never going to happen on its own, and not in a natural way. You were always going to be married off to some prince from a faraway land, and you were always going to have someone watching to make sure the consummation of your marriage was legitimate.

But it all happened so fast one night…

There had been a very large riot in the city, and your father had been assassinated. Your mother was taken away from the kingdom by her own bodyguard, leaving you to be in the care of Sir Kenpachi. You struggled against his tight hold, begging and pleading.

“No please! Let me go!” You whined, trying to break free of his hold.

He shakes his head, “No, I can’t.”

He’s rough as he places you on horseback, getting on behind you. You’re crying and begging to turn back, but he knows there’s no way he can bring you back to your castle. Everything has changed within one night, and even if you were to come back, it would be much too dangerous. 

“Listen to me, little dove.” He says to you, “You’re not going to be safe unless you stay with me.”

And his words ring true. The deeper into the forest you ride, the more you realize you’d never be able to deal with all of this on your own. He has a tight hold on you, while the other hand holds onto the reins. Kenpachi steers the horse through thick forest and deep swamp, all while keeping you safe from unwanted bandits popping up out of nowhere and wild beasts ready to swipe at you.

At last, you two reach a small safe haven; a cottage nestled in the brush. It’s not what you’d call home, but it’s going to be the place you’ll be staying for the next little while. He helps you off the horse, and he opens the door. You’re surprised to find it outfitted with the amenities you’d need for the next little while. As you sit on a chair in the kitchen, Sir Kenpachi works on getting a fire going. It’s cozy here, especially when he lights a few lanterns to make it even brighter. You begin to feel a bit more at ease.

“There’s a bath in the other room,” Kenpachi grunts. “If you want to get cleaned up. I can heat up water for you.”

You smile softly, “That would be nice.”

You’ve never seen him be this soft and domestic before. This is the man you’ve seen murder people countless times for the greater good of the kingdom. This is the same man you’ve heard threaten outsiders if they looked at you the wrong way. Your heart melts at the thought of him taking such good care of you.

With the fire roaring, he begins to boil some water for your bath. You begin inspecting the rest of the cottage. There’s a living area with lots of books and a comfy sofa. You find the materials to knit, sew and crochet as well. Then you head towards the bathroom, which has indoor plumbing other than the bath. You’re impressed that Sir Kenpachi knew to bring you here.

But when it comes to the bedroom, this is when you panic. There’s only one bedroom, and only one bed. This means he’s either going to have to sleep on the sofa, which won’t be comfy at all for him and his big frame, or he’s going to have to sleep with you in the bed. You wonder if you’ll manage to keep your urges to yourself.

“Your bath water is ready, little dove.” Kenpachi whispers gruffly in your ear. You gasp, turning around to look at him.

He can see the panic written all over your face. He knows that you must be wondering if he’ll sleep with you in the same bed. He’s watched you blossom from a young woman to the dainty beautiful princess you are now. You’ve always been so beautiful in his eyes, but he’s never wanted to sully you with his dirty hands. He’s got the blood of thousands of criminals, unwanted and bandits on his hands. How would you even want to be touched by someone like him?

He brings you into the bathroom. Kenpachi turns towards the door, but you softly take his hand in yours. You smile up at him, it’s a sincere and genuine smile.

“Please,” you plead. “Sir Kenpachi, I need help undoing the corset.”

You turn your back towards him, and he swallows hard. Now he thinks you’re just toying with him. He knows better than to refuse an order from the princess like this. So with his large hands, he undoes the laces to your corseted dress. As the fabric opens up to show your lithe skin, he’s growing hard beneath his pants. You turn just a little to smile at him again, causing his heart to race.

“For a big executioner,” you simper, “you’ve got soft hands.”

His eyes widened, unsure of how to even answer that. He stares at you for a few moments, and you appreciate the dusting of pink on his cheeks. He looks so human like this, so much softer than you’ve ever seen him before, He’s sweeter than you’ve ever experienced him.

He leaves you to bathe in peace, and he begins to pace. How could you say something like that to him? Everyone fears him, everyone is petrified when they see him. Kenpachi makes babies cry just by looking at them. Women shield the eyes of their children as he walks by. Mothers make sure to tell their daughters never to fall in love with such filth as him.

And yet, here you are, the princess of the nation…and you’re flirting with him.

It causes him to have such conflicting emotions. He couldn’t just deflower you. You were a princess, even if your country and kingdom were in turmoil. One day, you’d be marrying a prince and having a love of your own. He’d have to let you go that day, which is a thought that terrifies him like nothing at all.

He looks up from his spot on the bed when you tiptoe your way into the room. A fluffy towel is wrapped around your body, hiding the beauty that lies underneath. 

“O-oh! I’m sorry, Sir Kenpachi. I had nothing to wear.”

He comes over to you, his eyes dark with something you’ve never seen before. It’s almost like he’s ready to execute someone, but it’s not quite the same. It’s a different look that you’ve never seen in his eyes before.

You can’t even think properly when he shoves you onto the bed. He thought he’d take it slow, but Kenpachi has been waiting for you for years. He’s been wanting this for so long, his cock is just aching. You moan as he presses his lips onto yours roughly.

“You’ve teased me for too long, little dove.” He grunts as he presses himself against you. You can feel his hardened member throbbing against you. “I need to have you.”

Your eyes widen and you try to protest, telling him that you’re pure and you intend to be pure on your wedding night. But nothing seems to faze him. Nothing seems to be clicking. Despite your feeble attempts at trying to get him off of you, you know you couldn’t deny him even if you wanted to.

“I’ve spent my life keeping you safe, my little dove. Do you really believe I’d stop now just because you are to be married off to some dumb prince who doesn’t know how to use his cock?”

The words excite you like nothing before. Your heart races in your chest; like a hummingbird’s wings flapping in the wind. You wrap your arms around his big frame, pulling him closer again. This time, you know you’re ready for a kiss.

“Teach me,” you beg him. “Teach me how to make love.”

He doesn’t need much more persuasion than that. He lays you down properly on the eiderdown bed and presses his lips to yours once more. This time it’s deeper and more sensual. When he slips his tongue into your mouth, he realizes just how inexperienced you are.  Your kissing is sloppy and messy, but it only serves to turn him on even more.

His large hands, that would so easily crush your skull, gently cup your face. Kenpachi takes the lead, showing you how to kiss in a passionate way. You learn quickly, but he finds you so eager. Even when you slip up and become sloppy, it turns him on,

“That’s a good girl,” his praise goes straight between your thighs. 

He then pulls off the fluffy towel, revealing your pretty body to him. Nobody has ever seen your body in this way before. Your perky nipples are begging to be sucked on. Your cute little cunt is concealed by a little patch of pubic hair. Kenpachi isn’t even sure where he wants to begin.

He starts with cupping your breasts, making you moan just for him. His thumbs brush against your nipples, and you shudder with each time they do that. He loves the sounds you make whenever he’s teasing you like this. When he dips down to capture one of your perky nubs between his lips, you feel your body growing warmer. It’s almost too much to just have him sucking on your nipples.

“You taste so good,” he murmurs against your skin. “Like roses…vanilla…”

Your heart skips a beat at his words. He takes his time, suckling and nipping at the swell of your breasts and your nipples. Then he begins to press sloppy kisses down your body before spreading your legs. Just the sight of your glistening cunt surrounded by the cute little patch of pubic hair really is driving him crazy. The executioner thinks he should take it slow, but the minute his tongue presses against your folds, he’s hooked.

With strong hands, he pulls you even closer. You squirm and thrash under him as he laps and slurps you up like you’re his last meal. Saliva and arousal smears all over the bottom half of his face. He’s grunting and growling as he devours you. 

“S-Sir! Oh I…” but you can barely say anything as all that falls from your pretty lips are moans and pleas.

Kenpachi looks up at you, and when your gazes lock, you swear you’ve never seen such a lewd sight before. Your body shudders as you feel something deep in your tummy. It’s like a pressure that keeps building. You don’t know what it is, but you feel like you’re almost chasing that sensation.

“That’s it, little dove. Let go for me,”

You aren’t even quite sure what he means, but you continue to chase the new feeling deep inside you. He wraps his lips around your swollen clit, suckling on it like it’s his favorite sweet. Suddenly, the coil in your stomach snaps and you’re crying out. Begging and pleading tumble from you like a desperate prayer. Kenpachi continues to suckle and lap at you, prolonging the pleasure even more.

Slowly, he crawls back on top of you. His clothing is shed without much care, thrown around the room. Then he spreads your thighs even more as you get a good look at his dick. It’s a lot bigger than you’d ever imagined. The tip is red and oozing precum, and you feel your mouth water as you look at it. You want to taste him, but it would seem he’s got other plans.

“Let me be the one to show you true pleasure,” he says as he lets the tip of his cock nestle against your entrance. “Let me be the one who knows you the most.”

You’re so touched by his sweet words. You don’t even know what to say. Tears sting your eyes, and Kenpachi smiles softly. He kisses you; this kiss is much more loving than the previous ones. Then he looks into your eyes once more.

“Please, be mine.” You finally mutter.

Very carefully, Kenpachi begins slipping into you. A surprised gasp is ripped from you as you feel your cunt being stretched. He hushes you with sweet kisses and words of praise. One of his hands comes down to begin rubbing your clit.

“Taking me so good, little dove. You’re doing well, you just need to relax, okay?”

You nod your head, unable to say proper words. You can barely think as his cock splits you in half. More and more of him goes into you, making you feel all these new sensations. You’ve never known pleasure like this before, and you can tell you could easily become addicted to this.

“Just like that, sweetheart.” Kenpachi breathes against your neck. He’s almost all the way in.

His eyes roll back as he feels the way your walls are already milking him. How could it be this good? He’s the virgin killer after all, he’s fucked all kinds of women. But you were the one who felt the best. You feel like heaven to him. Maybe it’s because he’s cared for you for so long.

“Sir Kenpachi—” he interrupts you.

“Just Kenpachi, sweetheart.”

You hiccup as your hand reaches down to your lower tummy. His eyes widen when he realizes what you’re doing. You're feeling the bulge that his cock is making as he slides into you fully. He bottoms out and his hand meets yours. A warmth passes over the both of you, and soon you’re both more aroused than before.

“That’s it,” Kenpachi praises as he begins thrusting into you. “You can feel me that deep.”

You have no words. You just begin mewling and panting like all the virgins do. Whenever Kenpachi fucks them stupid, he enjoys watching them become so corrupted by the pleasure. You wrap your legs around him, desperate to feel him even deeper. Kenpachi quickens his pace, his hands gripping your hips to pull you in closer with each thrust.

“You’re mine now,” he tells you before kissing you so deeply. “Nobody can touch you.”

Your heart swells with love. You find yourself clinging to him, begging him for even more. He happily responds to your demands with fucking you harder and faster, his thumb coming down to rub your clit. He knows you’ll fall off the edge quickly because he gave you an orgasm before this. He’s just not sure how much longer he can hold on when you feel this fucking good.

“T-that feeling again…” you pant out,

Kenpachi smirks, “Yeah? Don’t worry, just go with that feeling.”

You listen to his advice. The more he thrusts into you, the closer you get to that same feeling as earlier. Kenpachi growls as his pace gets even quicker and rougher. The headboard of the bed begins to slam against the wall as he fucks into you like an animal in heat.

“Cum for me!” He grunts loudly. “Let go for me, princess.”

The dam breaks, the coil snaps. You cry out loudly, your nails digging into his back as your orgasm hits you so hard. Your silky walls begin to clench and pulse around his big cock, making his balls draw up. He’s grunting like an animal as he chases his own high, and soon his hips stutter.

“Take it all,” he grunts. “Take my seed.”

His cock throbs within you as shots of his hot, potent cum fill up your waiting womb. He’s fucking it into you, slowing down the rocking of his hips as his high washes over him. Then he looks at you, noticing the look on your face. You’re just fucked out now.

“Perfect,” he praises before kissing you. “You’ll do well to be my wife now.”

[purplesoulcollection]

Matchmaking Force

Unreciprocated affection.

That perfectly captures the captain's current state of mind.

My fellow Lofty troops and I, who have stood by the captain for quite some time, are well aware of his feelings for that woman.

She was once the captain's superior when he first entered the battlefield, and now she has risen to the rank of commander, surpassing him.

How do we know about the captain's feelings? Typically, his thoughts are quite unpredictable even for us the Lofty troops that had long sworn allegiance to him, right?

However, we can clearly see the change in his expression. The captain often appears stressed and in a foul mood because of war, but his face lights up when he talks to the commander. He becomes animated when discussing military matters and war strategies with her.

The captain thought no one knew about his feelings even when they could be seen very clearly.

At times, he seems to drift off into his own thoughts, trying to suppress a smile, but it’s no use; a smile breaks through whenever he thinks no one is watching.

These observations reveal the signs of the captain's unreciprocated affection, which seem to be growing stronger. We can’t help but feel sympathy for him, as his love remains unreturned.

In the past, the captain was in a state of confusion, attempting to avoid her, but now he has become bolder and wishes to approach her. Yet, he still holds back enough not to reveal his true feelings.

"Commander, do you have a moment to chat?"

As she spoke, the captain's familiar routine began again—attempting to assert himself but lacking the conviction to make it effective.

"What’s on your mind, Deon?" replied the woman, her expression perpetually stern and devoid of warmth.

"I have some confidential news from the kingdom." The captain revealed a letter adorned with the royal seal.

"Alright, step into my tent!"

It appeared that the captain was once more trying to initiate a private conversation with the commander.

His reasoning was plausible; indeed, a letter had arrived from the kingdom, and someone needed to share its contents with the commander.

However, it was unusual for a captain to be the one delivering such news. It seemed more like he was seeking an opportunity to get closer to her.

Otherwise, he would often resort to talking to himself like a lunatic when he lacked a legitimate reason to approach the commander.

Those of us observing his antics couldn't help but gossip, feeling a bit exasperated and hoping to play matchmaker if there was any spark between them.

"You just witnessed what happened, right? I mentioned that the Captain lacks experience when it comes to women, which is why he handles things in such a clumsy way. How can he even share his feelings with his clumsy attitude?" Someone voiced their frustration after seeing the Captain earlier, so frustrated.

We're currently taking a break after the recent conflict, and the sight of the Captain and Commander has sparked quite a bit of chatter among us.

"How could he possibly know how to approach girls when he was thrown into war before he even reached adolescence?"

Those words hit hard, bringing the discussion to a halt because they ring true.

"Isn't it usually women who enjoy gossip and romantic tales more than us older guys? Why are we the ones who seem to understand the situation better?"

"True, the Commander hasn't given any feedback yet. If he’s not interested in the Captain, he could just turn him down right away." That statement stirred up quite a debate.

"Hey, do you really think you can handle the fallout if the Captain gets heartbroken and something happens to him!?"

"Do you honestly believe the Captain is so fragile that he would crumble from rejection? He’s not that weak!"

"Let’s not speak ill of our leader behind his back. It’s unbecoming and not the behavior of a true knight!" I attempted to step in as the debate grew more intense and started to veer into unacceptable territory.

"Dame Lianne should be the one concerned. Aren't you frustrated by the captain's blatant behavior? You're a woman!"

"But right now, we’re facing war. Wouldn't sharing your feelings just create tension between them and hinder their ability to collaborate?"

"That mindset is too simplistic. Do you really think we have the luxury of time? We're at war, and one misstep could cost us our lives. We need to act in a way that we won't regret! The captain will surely regret it if he doesn't take action before it's too late!"

Cheers of agreement filled the air, signaling that those with logical minds could finally cease their debates, as they understood this situation was settled.

However, the celebration was short-lived when someone interjected, "But the captain is quite timid, especially given his current demeanor. If he faces rejection, he might become even more unhinged than usual, and we could end up being his victims without a second thought."

Just hearing that argument sent chills down everyone’s spine, as it painted a vivid and terrifying picture.

Before any rejection could occur, the captain had already instilled fear in his own troops with the way Deon executed his kills. Imagining Deon's escalating madness felt like stepping into a nightmarish realm.

Let's not get carried away with our thoughts. Right now, we have a captain who feels hopeless about sharing his feelings. If we don’t step in to help him, who knows how long he’ll continue to struggle in his interactions with the commander!

"Dame Lianne, you’re our only chance to find out how the commander feels about the captain!"

"Why should I get involved in a plan I don’t support?" I nearly shouted at my own fellow soldiers, losing my composure to fight the urge to beat whoever have the idea.

"You’re the only noblewoman among us. If you won’t do it, then who will? You’re the deputy captain!"

I wanted to push back against their request, but the eager looks from her teammates made her feel trapped, as if they were questioning her loyalty to Deon.

Feeling cornered and recalling her vow to act as long as it didn’t conflict with imperial orders, i finally relented and agreed.

"So what do you want to talk about, Dame Lianne?" The commander's sharp gaze probed every suspicious reaction of my body. I myself can't blame her because even though we are both nobles, I have never spoken to him alone due to differences in military status.

After I said yes earlier, I was literally pushed to meet the commander without further preparation, without me being able to prepare the conversation material first.

They don't know the burden of a woman who has to carry out a mission like this without warning first.

If the commander becomes suspicious of my motives, she might even think that it was the captain who ordered me to investigate her feelings or the worse she thinks that I'm a spy from the kingdom.

So I have to be careful like walking on a tightrope and not fall into suspicion.

"Did you know that the captain was hurt, Commander?"

The commander's puzzled expression was evident. Her usual calmness faltered for a moment before she regained her composure.

"Deon didn’t mention that during our conversation." she said that, trying to keep her voice steady, but her concern and sadness were hard to miss.

"True, but the captain is incredibly resilient and can withstand a lot of injuries. He feels the need to remain strong, especially since he’s seen as a hero. I’m sure he wouldn’t want you to worry about him."

"Thank you for the update, Dame Lianne. I’ll check on him later."

Hearing that eased my mind, and I excused myself before the Lofty troops could bombard me with their impatient questions.

"Please, stop overwhelming me. The Commander looked anxious when I mentioned that the Master was hurt."

The puzzled expressions on the Lofty troops' faces only added to my frustration. They had urged me to investigate, yet now they seemed just as confused.

"You all told me to inquire without raising suspicion. If you don’t ask directly, then of course we’ll have to discuss something else."

The Lofty troops exchanged glances, searching for the right words, until one finally spoke up, "That’s not the issue, Dame Lianne. The captain isn’t injured. If you say he is, do we need to create an injury for him to avoid being caught in a lie?"

Ultimately, our expressions turned somber as we realized the gravity of the situation we had unintentionally caused. It seems we are in for a serious consequence for being caught in a web of lies and spreading misinformation.

We will not be sentenced to death, for sure. But there is a punishment worse than death, namely being severely beaten without being able to fight back.

The following day arrived, and a group of us gathered in silence, an uncomfortable and somber atmosphere surrounding us.

We kept our heads down, knowing our deceptions would soon be revealed, and the severe consequences looming over us dampened our spirits for the day ahead.

Yet, some had come to terms with the situation and attempted to lighten the mood with jokes and laughter about the fabrications I had spun.

"Hey, Dame Lianne! Your idea was actually pretty clever; if we had gone through with it, we would have faced immediate punishment!" one of the guys gave me a thumbs-up, signaling that I was on the right track.

"And you mentioned that the commander is worried, which means he must have some feelings for the captain."

"Even if we end up getting punished, if it helps their relationship, that’s a win, right, buddy?"

The once-muted cheers, stifled by fear, now filled the air, and I was taken aback by the shift in the men’s demeanor.

Ahem.

The sound of a cough made us all straighten up, our bodies rigid with attention.

Then we noticed the commander and captain together, holding hands.

Our eyes widened in surprise; their faces were flushed, perhaps they had overheard our earlier conversation.

"Dame Lianne, yesterday you intentionally…"

"Captain, Commander, are you two officially a couple now?"Lofty's troops immediately hugged Deon, disregarding the commander's inquiry directed at me.

They embraced Deon, causing him to reluctantly let go of the commander’s hand.

"At least, the captain has revealed his feelings!"

"This once small and delicate child has blossomed into an adult who is now in a relationship!"

"The captain was unaware of how thrilled we were to see him coming our way."

"Indeed, the captain isn't quite ready to approach women. Let me share how I used to approach my wife..."

The loud chatter of the crowd drowned out Deon's protests and his discomfort with his own troops' behavior.

"Dame Lianne…"

Facing the commander alone, I quickly offered my apologies.

"I'm sorry for deceiving you, commander. I'm ready to accept any punishment." I dropped my knees as a form of proof that I was guilty.

"That's alright, I'm not upset with you. You didn't do any harm. In fact, I'm quite relieved because of you."

"Relieved because of me?"

"I lack the courage to show Deon more attention. But I believe I need a little encouragement to express my feelings for him."

"Then may I ask what happened next after I left?" Commander looked away, trying not to answer my question even if i practically eyeing her as a hawk. I understand her concern that she is afraid that I will spread unpleasant gossip but i still the a knight who has loyalty.

"You can trust me with your secrets, commander. Besides, we are the only two female knights here, so I can certainly relate to your situation."

Her cheeks flushed as she leaned in closer and whispered with quiet voice. "He insisted that he wasn't injured, so I had to remove his clothing with force. That’s when he confessed he felt embarrassed because the person he liked saw his body that full with scars. I quickly reassured him, saying that I liked him too."

It appears that last night’s events were quite daring, and there seems to be an unspoken incident that followed.

However, neither the commander nor I delved deeper into that topic, as we were preoccupied with separating Deon from his troops, who

were starting to overwhelm him. Whatever unfolds next is beyond our concern; the loyal troops of both parties deserve happiness, even amidst the chaos of war.

The End

[true-blue-sonic]

I came across a post on character flaws that states such flaws are extremes of a positive trait, and one example was "trusting: easily manipulated or distrustful". It got me thinking about the Rivals games, where I'd argue Silver possesses both extremes simultaneously. Namely, he'll trust you, if you say what he wants to hear and show a full willingness to cooperate. And if you don't, Silver will very flippantly brush you off and keep going his own way. There's a lot of situations in the Rivals games wherein he just doesn't tell people what's going on or runs off while they're questioning him, which makes them race or fight him in turn. Not exactly a situation to create trust between parties.

I find it really interesting how that comes into play with Espio, mostly. Espio is sent specifically to gather evidence about Silver kidnapping Chao, which is what he confronts Silver with partway through Rivals 2. Silver expresses confusion about Espio's incredulousness on why he's kidnapping the Chao precisely, and Espio indicates he trusts Silver; and with just one more question from Silver ("Are you going to help then, or keep getting in my way?") their team-up has commenced. But Silver has not at all verified if Espio is legitimate with his trust! He doesn't even ask what made Espio change his mind or anything of the sort; he immediately goes to Espio helping him out. Espio could easily have lied about trusting Silver to team up with him, all the while gathering evidence on him and having him right there to be stopped should the need arrive. And I wonder if that thought ever crossed Silver's mind, and how he would have reacted should he have found out Espio is specifically sent to gather evidence of a crime he's committing (which he himself doesn't see as a crime: he's stealing Chao to save the world). I find the discrepancy between "Silver will trust you without question if you fully commit yourself to his cause and agree with what he's saying" and "if you don't, Silver will just not listen to you in turn and keep doing his own thing" very interesting as a potential "easily manipulated" versus "distrustful" kind of character flaw. It could make for an interesting story of someone who does not have Espio's good intentions trying to get close to Silver in that way to harm him down the line; I wonder how long it would take for him to realise?

[gofancyninjaworld]

No one is born knowing how to communicate

A: And that's okay...

Dr Kuseno made it look so easy. He just swanned into Saitama's apartment, proferred him a gift of beef and the hero's hostility melted away.

Fubuki felt positively foolish, and yet encouraged.

Since then, however, she's found that the only thing meat bribes pull in are dogs. Literal dogs:

And even dogs need more than meat to be loyal.

What gives? Well, it's obvious that Fubuki mistook Dr Kuseno's gift for a bribe: more on that later. Probably. And yeah, it's funny, but it's more interesting than that.

Learning how to communicate is complex. There are a ludicrous number of unspoken conventions and rules in every human society, so much so that we don't fully learn how to smile socially until we're in our forties. Dr Kuseno carefully judged his gift: he had a legitimate reason to offer Saitama a gift in the first place, out of gratitude for Saitama going out of his way to mentor Genos. Then he chose a gift Saitama would be sure to appreciate and presented it at a time when Saitama would be thinking about dinner. The worst that could have happened is that Saitama took the gift but insisted on the doctor going home (and taking Genos with him) -- it would still have left the desired positive impression. And things went really well. Kuseno made it look effortless.

Fubuki is only in her early twenties and her experience to date has been far from typical. She's learned that either she can intimidate people or she can flatter them into doing what she wants. With Saitama (and later Bang, Bomb, and Kuseno), she has to learn how to talk to more powerful people whom she cannot overpower, over whom she has no leverage, and who are unimpressed by her looks, simpering, or flattery.

Fortunately, Fubuki is nothing if not astute. She's worked out that she needs to develop complementary skills if she's to make herself useful to the S-Class heroes she wants to hang with. How to talk to them to get the help and cooperation she desires? Ah, that's a work in progress.

B: ...Unless it's not

Let's move onto another miscommunication.

Something that I hadn't before was that, unlike the webcomic version where Saitama only thinks to himself that Genos seems depressed, in the manga, Saitama out and out asks him if this is the case. He wants to know.

It mirrors King asking Saitama that very same question and getting Saitama to open up and be vulnerable for the first time (ever, in any version of the story). So it is very appropriate to see Saitama trying to do the same for Genos, particularly as he is openly fond of the guy.

However, it goes wrong. Saitama feels himself under pressure to say something wise to make it better. So he puts on his best 'confident' face and inadvertently makes everything much worse. Oh dear. What makes this particularly painful in the manga is that Saitama is much more invested in trying to reach Genos, and it's made Genos think that Saitama saying that he doesn't see what he's doing must mean that earlier times when he's praised him must have been just Saitama being nice. For sure, Genos could have pushed back and made Saitama clarify what he meant, but he's even worse at communicating: and Saitama's glib remark about being bright struck him square in the insecurities.

I'm going to come to something that I only realised once I started typing this up. Even though I've pointed out their abilities to communicate, neither King nor Kuseno have the perfect words to say. Kuseno started out by first committing a faux pas in bringing his great big outside boots into Saitama's flat, then nearly boring Saitama to death with a long-winded explanation. King started out by trying to guess what was bothering Saitama. Both, however, did the most important thing about effective communication: they picked up on their going wrong and changed tack.

It's not about saying the right thing: it's about responding to the person you're talking to.

The thing that King did that Saitama was trying to do for Genos was to ask Saitama open questions, and shut up in the interim, letting Saitama talk to fill in the silence. He'd only speak to ask more open questions when Saitama ran out of things to say, and through that, gently started to challenge Saitama's thinking.

But doing so means being comfortable with several seconds of silence. And that is excruciating. It is almost irresistible to jump in and say something, anything. And it would have been a longish wait, for Genos to slowly sit down and decide to start speaking, which might well have started being about something only tangentially related to his worry. King did that for Saitama: Saitama started out talking about what was bothering him on the surface -- being too strong -- before eventually coming to what was really bothering him, feeling lonely and profoundly isolated from everyone around him. Saitama does not yet know how to wait a person out.

It's a problem in this case because it's introduced a big barrier between those two, not an insurmountable one for sure, but one that could easily compound later.

Ah well, no one is born a communicator. We just have to wait and see if they work out a way to open up and be honest with each other. So it goes! There's more ways to introduce conflicts than to have a monster trample Tokyo, after all!

And so help me, the struggle to learn how to communicate is 1000% worthwhile.

[revoltrebel]

We The People Must Unite!

We The People Must Command Our Right!

We The People Must Ignite!

We The People Must Win This Fight!

When We The People Unite.

When We The People Fight.

When We Dismantle The Wrong With The Right,

We The People Will End Our Plight.

DM To Join The Official Plan of Action On Discord

I think EVERYONE needs to read this. Especially parents! For the sake of the future happiness and equality for their children in their own pursuit of happiness.

Luigi:

I believe He let himself get caught. Possibly even told the employee to report and collect. He ate his meal and waited patiently. He supposedly had the 🔫, the suppressor and his manifesto on him. He is martyring himself to fan the flames of revolution 🫡

I thought it was obvious 🤷🏻‍♂️ He is a man with a very blatantly obvious plan/message. He knows there HAS to be a martyr. It’s how revolutions truly begin.

Freedom and fairness in living and the pursuit of happiness. Capitalism has become a greedy dirty monster. Puppeted by the elite and their govt cronies. Using radical ideals from both sides of the aisle to keep Us, “the common poor citizens” at each others throats instead of realizing who the real enemy and threat really are. To keep us down and struggling just to survive when we should be thriving. Together. They need to be stopped. Only We can stop them. United We Win.

Anyone who knows me personally, knows I’ve been jabbering about the 2nd American Revolution since I was a god damn child…

I thought that this was how I’d react when it came…nonchalant, watching it all unfold with a smug “I told ya so look on my face”…

Now I know.

I want to fight.

I want to make change happen.

I want to surround myself with others of the same ilk

To bring 💀 to the system, we must first bring 💀 to those that control it Deny Defend Depose 🫡

Will you join me?

🫡

Deny Defend DEPOSE! Rise, organize, prepare and FIGHT TOGETHER! This NEEDS to happen! I’m rising. I WILL fight back! Will you join me?

WE need to have EACH OTHERS backs. Ants Vs Grasshoppers. Nobody but OURSELVES are going to make any change happen. Rise up TOGETHER. No matter the religion. No matter what side of the aisle. It’s always been Up Vs Down and they have used EVERYTHING to keep us divided. United WE WIN.

Sorry but I am LEGITIMATELY TRYING to gather Us ALL up and actually do something. Need as many as possible to help and be ready to actually fight. People who aren’t scared. People who are tired and angry at the elite and their government cronies and are WILLING to do what TRULY NEEDS TO BE DONE

Deny Defend DEPOSE!!!

[mageknight14]

I think an interesting thing about both TWEWY games after replaying them is that, when you look back at them, Neku isn’t really punished for his flaws in comparison to Rindo and when he does suffer, it’s mainly through external factors that’s tied to his development as a person. On paper, it's pretty clear that Rindo is punished more heavily for his flaws (or at least more severely near the climax): his bouts of insecurity and fear of accountability made him the perfect candidate to be Kubo's puppet, and as such, he relies heavily on the Replay to the point where he basically assists in creating an all-powerful noise that is beyond their ability to erase, all but guaranteeing Shibuya's doom sans Haz's interference. Neku’s flaw of being tactiturn isn't something constantly producing conflict for him throughout the game; he overcomes a significant portion of his flaw by week 1; and the rest of the punishment he receives mostly comes from the reapers being unfair dicks to him. Neku does struggle emotionally during week 2 and 3, but it has less to do with his flaws and more to do with him having legitimate reason to doubt whether or not he can trust Joshua and Hanekoma. Throughout the game, his doubts are articulated very well through narrative action, but these doubts aren't a result of his own isolation and delusions, you know?

The closest it gets to that point is where Neku heavily blames himself for not trusting Joshua more when he chooses to "sacrifice" himself for Neku’s sake, but that whole instance actually makes Neku more retroactively justified when he finds out the truth about Joshua’s true nature. Not to mention Joshua was giving him plenty of reasons NOT to trust him so mistrust wasn't really a product of Neku's loner demeanor; Joshua was legitimately gaslighting him throughout the entire second week.

But I actually don’t think that’s a flaw within the narrative. Quite the opposite, in fact. The thing to keep in mind about Neku was that he was essentially having his character arc in both directions. He was both having to learn to be a better person and directly confront his propensity to shut people out and refuse to rely on external help, while also trying to piece together who he even was before the Reaper's Game. He’s not given enough of a foundation to lay out who he was and what his deal is to the same degree as Rindo because for both Neku and the player, things start in medias res. He literally has no idea about who he even is as a person besides his name at that point of the story.

I don’t think Neku’s flaws not really affecting him is a problem with the narrative itself considering how people do call him out on his behavior and he does change immensely throughout the game. One could argue Neku becomes nicer a little too quickly given his few days with Shiki, or that in week 2 onwards, his distrusting personality isn't as prevalent; but on the other hand, Neku's growth from week 1 is challenged and put to good narrative use, because now he has to be willing to exercise patience and understanding with other people, especially since he has something worth fighting for that isn't just himself. W2 with Joshua is meant to teach Neku that not everyone is going to be sweet like Shiki, but regardless, you should at least make an attempt to understand such people, even if you end up never really liking them. Expand your world to include people, even if they think or act differently from you. By W3, Neku is now put in a position where he has to learn that caring about people isn't just about being nice to them or trying to understand them; it's also about being dependable enough to support others in need, which he develops into with his time with Beat. From that sense, OG TWEWY doesn't present Neku's flaws as a constant force he has to battle throughout the game, but flips this concept on its head and instead presents his arc as having to learn how to practice being an empathetic human being; something he shut himself from trying to do after the trauma of his best friend’s death.

Neku doesn’t really hate people like he claims that he does at the beginning. He actually loves people. And he fucking hates that because it just leads to him getting emotionally hurt. He doesn't want to get hurt more than he already has and that’s the reason he pushes people away because he's scared he'll end up caring about them and getting hurt again and it’s why he’s heartbroken after Rhyme’s erasure and when he finds out the truth about Joshua.

I think that's really interesting in itself. By the rules that the Reaper's Game is supposed to usually operate by, Neku won with flying colours in week one, but because of circumstances being what they were, Kitaniji had to cheat and keep players from getting their resurrection wish. So Shiki is whisked into reaper-jail as a new entry fee, and Neku is forced into yet another game, even though he should have qualified for another chance at life as he was. The development of his character from amnesiac misanthrope into someone who actually trusts another person is so stark that it feels like you're playing as a completely different guy... but then week 2 rolls around and Neku's partnered with Joshua, who very intentionally pushes his buttons ceaselessly and tests him further.

Rindo on the other hand, has his flaw presented as a constant force throughout the narrative, and presents his growth through it more organically. Everytime he does Replay, he’s essentially forced to take charge of his life and grows more confident and assured in his capabilities as a leader while also becoming more and more heavily reliant on his time-travel abilities to carry him throughout the journey, acting as a double-edged sword in that sense.

He also begins to grow out of his paranoia in regards to other people, having a habit of riding others' coattails and seeing them for their performance value first, personality second (Minamimoto, Beat, Neku when he was seeking him), especially if it's something he's heard about them (Neku the 'Legendary Player', Nagi having a 'bunch of pins') AKA, again, others' opinions.

He slowly gets better with his willingness to take accountability for his choices, but even in the final week, you still see that while he's made strides, he hasn't quite nailed the confidence just yet, and he even still relapses from time-to-time. Some people seem to look at this as a flaw of the game but I actually quite like this and I think it makes Rindo an interesting contrast to Neku as a protag.

His arc shows that you even if you are changing, change isn't like a switch; you don't just all of a sudden stop making mistakes tied to your flaw and it shows when he starts to delegate towards Beat and Neku’s judgement when they come by to start taking a load off of his back. He basically falls into a cycle of:

>improves

>falls into old habits

>improves

>does bullshit again

>improves

Until it culminates into Neku officially joining the team and unofficially taking Rindo’s role as the leader, telling him not to time-travel since it might cause more Dissonance only for Rindo to actually break this cycle and go against what Neku says in order to not fall for Susukichi’s trap.

It’s why his convo with Haz and his final choice is so impactful for his growth; with no outside influences, he has to make one of the hardest decisions of his life and he works his ass off towards making the second chance he got count.

Rindo isn’t the easiest protag to like as a person even in spite of how seemingly more well-adjusted he looks to be compared to Neku. He constantly fucks up, acts really passive-aggressive when confronted on his flaws, and said flaws don’t immediately jump out like Neku’s did. The last part might seem confusing but people tend to attach themselves more to a character when they let you know what they’re about upfront, which is what Neku did quite bluntly at the beginning of the game ("all the world needs is me.") And if you’re not reading into Rindo’s actions and his head, a lot of his characterization can fly over your own head.

It even plays into the themes of both games. Even when Neku got screwed over by the machinations of the game, he was at least able to make some semblance of a difference throughout each week such as taking down the respective Game Master. But with Rindo and the gang, almost every victory they earn gets taken away from them due to another factor out of their control.

"Oh, you took down Susukichi? Too bad, Shiba says fuck you, start the Game over. Oh, and Sho is gone too."

"You took down Motoi? Congrats but he was actually a victim of the same system that you’re all a part of and is basically a desperate man on the brink of despair, which Rindo is forced to acknowledge, especially after Motoi himself passes away the next day."

"Speaking of the next day, you’re starting to form a counterattack and actually fight back against the system but oops, Shiba is here yet again to say, fuck you, do it again. Oh, and Susukichi was just playing pretend the entire time."

Not even taking down Shiba himself is enough to give them a reprieve because Kubo shows up to immediately undercut that sense of relief by revealing himself as the true villain and having Rindo’s very own powers kill his friends. Ain’t that a bitch?

But I think that in itself makes Rindo an interesting protag, at least to me. He’s the epitome of an NPC who got stuck with the protag role that he wants absolutely nothing to do with in spite of the world itself telling him to get his shit together. Hanekoma even initially writes off him at first due to only having average Imagination. But, after everything he’s been through and his character development, he’s finally able to find his own footing in the world and stand tall as the leader of the Wicked Twisters, ultimately saving both his friends and the city.

The main point I’m getting at here is how both games play with each protag’s arc in a way that neatly contrast one another and show off their respective writing styles quite well. TWEWY as a duology is fascinating to dig through and I really appreciate how multi-layered the games are.

[darklydeliciousdesires]

London Will Burn - A Sean Wallace/OFC Story.

I couldn't wait to share this with you, besties. Here, have the first chapter! I know that Sean is pretty niche as he doesn't seem to have all too huge a fandom, but if I can garner a few readers, and you guys could help me out by reblogging this, I would be very appreciative. Commentary is very welcome, as usual, so yes, dive on in and hopefully enjoy! If you like it enough, you can have chapter two sooner rather than later, too :)

The story begins seven years in the past, but will then run semi-canon to the Gangs of London plot and timeframe.

Tag list - In the comments, please DM to be added/removed

Words - 3,826

Warnings - 18+ content throughout. Minors DNI.

May 24th, 2016. 

Coffee, the financial times and resounding quiet. These were the defining components needed for Finn Wallace to begin each day within the spatial surroundings of his corner office, the floor to ceiling windows offering the widest view of the city he ruled over with an iron fist.  

“Mr Wallace, please. Sir...”  

The words of Minnie, his secretary, delivered outside of his office with mildly pleading desperation tore his attention from fastidiously studying the FTSE 100, Finn looking out from above the pink sheets of paper. He witnessed her scurrying along, her eyes pleading while trying to match the long strides of his son as he approached. “You know your father doesn’t like to be bothered...” 

...between the hours of eight and nine. He needed a full hour with nothing but a newspaper and a good supply of anything that came from Whittard of Chelsea prior to starting his day. His son had other ideas that morning, though.  

Placing his coffee down, he lifted his chin as Sean strode through the doors, a heap of paperwork within his grasp.  

“One print off of the e-contract signed late last night by Kevin Cavanagh, and one verbal assurance that the vessels may port within his dock space for the original agreed amount.” The paperwork hit the desk so hard, it was almost splashed in coffee, Sean looking thoroughly pleased with himself. As he should, his father thought. Kevin had been extremely tricky in this, his son’s first solo deal for the company. 

Reaching for the contract, Finn could scarcely believe it, but there it was. K. Cavanagh. Signed, sealed and delivered. “How the fuck did you swing that, boyo?” 

Kevin Cavanagh had shown himself to be a rather large thorn in the side of the Wallace empire for weeks, the investor digging his heels in over their proposed deal, an influx of two hundred million sterling into the company’s legitimate holdings to fund the proposed apartment complex they wished to build, and a grant of passage for boats containing large shipments of heroin porting from Pakistan to enter his docks.  

The terms and conditions set by Sean had been made clear, but having the upper hand in it all, Kevin had gone back on their proposed arrangement out of sheer greed. It had not gone down well at all. Especially since Finn considered Kevin to be a long-standing friend as well as a business associate. He wasn’t about to involve himself, though. It was Sean’s deal, and he had to learn in going it alone, friend or not. 

In their world, though, alliance and friendship were subject to change at any given moment. Friendships aside, Sean had been advised by his father to do whatever it took to secure the deal by the required deadline, which had passed at midnight the night before. 

Looking upon his son expectantly, Finn was under no illusion over Sean’s self-satisfied pride in his achievement. His poise did not slip, though. Not even for a second. “I have my ways, all of them effective.” 

He raised an eyebrow. “How?”  

His son smirked, the same bloody smirk he’d had since he was three, back when he’d usually hoodwinked his mother into the offering of a second reach into the biscuit tin. “If you knew that, then you’d know as much as me.” 

Finn felt himself losing patience at his allusivity, but couldn’t quite keep the grin from spreading across his face. “Wiley little shit.”  

He chuckled, checking his watch. “I have a meeting to get to. Lunch at The Strand, 1pm? I have a table booked. See you then.” 

“If I’m late, order my usual.” Looking over the contract once again, Finn rested his chin upon the pinch of his thumb and forefinger. If he’d gotten a result without them having to yield to Kevin, it surely didn’t matter how Sean had procured the deal.  

As time would tell, though, it would.  

Striding from the building, Sean climbed into the waiting car, ready to be whisked across London for a viewing on another apartment complex currently under construction. It would take up most of his morning, but such was the nature of his role within the company. Build big, reap big, remain on top. 

Leaning back against the plush leather upholstery within the black Mercedes, Sean winced, feeling the soreness that remained from his weekend of sexual hedonism. Clawed scratches marking the freckled alabaster of his back from his shoulders right to the rounded muscles of his arse had certainly felt good at the time, but now the scabbed wounds stung and itched.  

That itching sting was experienced internally, too, a rolling wave of cold discomfort washing over his insides once again. Guilt. Maybe even a little remorse. Who’d have thought it? Certainly not him. He had previously considered those emotions to be completely superfluous, with a nature such as his, and most definitely not when his actions had reaped such rewards.  

Sean was, if nothing else, completely ruthless in the pursuit of attainment.  

His go to in attaining a desired result didn’t always equal the exertion of moral turpitude, but in this instance it very much had. There was no going back on it either. He had struck out, used his bargaining chip of blackmail and garnered the desired results. At twenty-five years old, he’d thought himself perhaps above the actions he’d resorted to, considering his bartering and negotiation skills to be proficient enough.  

They hadn’t been.  

However, Sean knew that blackmailing Kevin Cavanagh into agreement by threatening to upload a video to the internet of himself fucking his eighteen-year-old daughter would work like a charm in securing a signature, and it had.  

He’d understandably been beyond livid with him, after receiving an edited version of the hour-long filming, showing just enough for Kevin to know that Catherine would be subjected to great personal embarrassment and emotional anguish if he didn’t comply.  

With his arm figuratively bent up his back, he had agreed, the money immediately transferred, and the contract signed the evening before, once he and his wife had returned from their weekend away. Kevin had also struck a permanent black mark against the son of his old friend, knowing that Finn likely had no part in the blackmail. As chillingly cutthroat as he could be, it wasn’t his style. Words would be had, though, and Sean knew he likely had that coming to him sooner or later.  

Just as he would when Catherine caught up with him. He highly doubted Kevin wouldn’t tell her. 

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his phone, placing his earbuds in and locating the video he had promised to delete. He’d been hesitant there, not because he intended to nefariously make good on his threat and upload it anyway, he had no cause to. The reason behind his stalling was much more complex, and not one he was in a hurry to admit. Not even to himself.  

Hearing her sweet moans as he watched himself on the screen, face buried between her legs, a jolt ran right through him. He could almost still taste the sweet honey of her cunt on his tongue, feel her skin against his, and with a shift in his seat, experience her nails clawing at his back.  

It was only ever meant to happen once. Once had led to an entire weekend, and there it was again, the unpleasant sting rolling through his guts as he closed his eyes and remembered it. Remembered her.  

Her... her. 

It was only ever meant to happen once... 

St Augustine’s Grammar School for Girls was one of the most exclusive private Catholic schools in the entirety of London. For an eye watering yearly fee, it boasted unsurpassed examination results, a sterling OFSTED record, and much to the fury of the young ladies within its prestigious halls, a strict code for uniform. A black skirt to the knee, high black socks, a white shirt and a navy blazer and tie.  

Even the students attending the adjoining sixth form college had to still adhere, much to their loathing. For Catherine Cavanagh, as soon as she was out of the front gates with her friends, adjustments were made.  

Her neatly pleated skirt was rolled over a few times to hitch it up, her folded over socks pulled up until they came over the knee, her blazer and tie stuffed into her bag and her shirt undone to reveal a little of the black lace bra she wore beneath, as well as being knotted at the waist. She liked to show off some of what she had. 

Lashings of smoky black eyeliner were applied, her lips liberally glossed and her shoulder length blonde waves all shook free of their ponytail prison before she sauntered away, ready for a coffee with her friends, of whom also made similar adjustments to their own uniforms. They were young women at eighteen, all mildly incensed that they still had to stick to the rules of their frigidly stalwart school.  

Catherine, or Rin as she preferred to be called, was far from frigid.  

“Oi darlin’! Fancy gettin’ in the back of me van and lettin’ me give ya one, eh?” 

Ugh. Builders. The worst of the worst for shouting pervy obscenities from the open window of a slowed down Ford Transit. She immediately rolled her eyes. “No thanks, but I fancy giving you this.” Raising her middle finger, her confident smirk grew, her friends cheering on her usual chutzpah.   

“Fuck you, then! Little slag!” 

Rin snorted. “You wish, mate.”  

“I don’t get it,” Rashida, her bestie mused, fiddling with her necklace as she cocked her head. “He wanted to shag you five seconds ago, and now you’re a slag because you didn’t take him up on his offer?” Her face was a picture of bemused disgust as she barked a laugh. “Wanker.” 

“Yeah, sums him up. Right, let’s hit the coffee house. I’m fucking gasping for something strong, hot and foamy.” 

Their friend Carly couldn’t help but pipe up, laughing at her own joke before she’d even spoken it aloud. “What, you want the big fella from Game of Thrones in a bubble bath? What’s his name?” 

“Tormund,” Rin confirmed, her eyes dreamy. “You know I’m weak as fuck for a redhead!”  

While the prospect of Kristofer Hivju, the actor who played the aforementioned character awaiting her in a bubble bath was preferred, it was a double shot cappuccino she needed most at that moment. After a day of hard studying for her ongoing A Levels, Rin needed the coffee like air. For no other reason than to stay awake for the duration of her journey home.  

She wouldn’t be driving, though. Yet to pass her test, she would simply call for a driver in the employment of her father to collect her when she was ready. Being rich certainly had its perks. Entering the coffee shop a ten-minute walk from the school gates, she paid for her order and stood back to wait, sensing someone behind her before a familiar voice spoke into her ear. 

“I am unsure whether your mother would approve of that skirt, young lady.”  

Turning, her eyes widened. “Bloody hell! Hello!” It had been at least five years since she’d seen Sean Wallace other than fleeting moments in passing, the last proper time being when he was home from university in his final year. The occasion had been when her parents had thrown a garden party for her father’s friends and closest business associates, plus their families.  

“How are you, darling?” He drawled smoothly, kissing her cheek as they exchanged a brief hug. “It’s been a bloody age.” Looking down upon her, his gaze was nothing but clearly appreciative, thinking just what a beautiful young woman she’d become. In fact, beautiful was an understatement; she was an absolute knock out.  

In any other circumstance, Catherine Cavanagh would be his perfect match. She came from a similar family, steeped in criminality and staggeringly wealthy, with the best education money could buy, just as he himself had received. They were cut from the exact same cloth, she and Sean. This was not an exercise in procuring the perfect match long-term, though. Far from it.  

“It has, I was just thinking that myself,” she confirmed as they parted, feeling a little flustered. Oh, how she’d always fancied the arse off Sean. She might have been extremely confident for an elder teen, much more woman than girl in that respect, but still. Sean was the bloody holy grail as far as she was concerned. “As for me, up to my eyes in all things A Levels, only two more exams left and then its fingers crossed I do well enough to take the provisional place I’ve been offered at LSE.” 

He remembered that the London School of Economics had been her long-term goal from the last time he’d spoken to her at length, back when she was just a kid of thirteen. “I remember you telling me, yes. Forgive me, but I forget just what it is you were aiming for?” 

A flutter delighted her insides at that, how he hadn’t forgotten her desires to attend LSE when it had been so long since they’d last talked in depth. She’d thought he’d merely been entertaining her thirteen-year-old self and her long-winded plans for her future, but no. He’d actually listened. Then again, he was always very attentive when engaging with someone, no matter who they were. “BSc in mathematics, statistics and business.”  

“I bet your father is very proud,” he commented, Rin turning to pick up her coffee.  

“Well, I suppose he will be if I actually pull it off and attain the necessary grades. It’ll stand me in good stead for taking over the family business too, when he eventually retires.” They were birds of a feather in that respect, both primed to one day sit at the helm of their respective family empires. “Speaking of which, how are things with you? You’re doing very well at the Wallace Corporation, according to dad.” 

“Your father is correct, I am.” He was still very sure of himself. Anyone else would call it arrogance, but Sean was merely infectiously confident. He knew what he wanted, and he went right after it, Rin completely oblivious to the fact that his cool blue eyes were directly focused upon his present target. “Long hours and probably less pay than I should be garnering, but I must confess to be doing rather well for myself. Especially considering I have only been there just over four years.” 

They eventually became so lost in their catch-up chatter that Rin completely failed to realise that her friends had moved to a table, turning to see them wave at her. The looks on their faces spoke volumes. 

“I’ll be there in a sec,” she assured them, praying Carly didn’t open her mouth. No such luck. 

“No, no,” the girl herself chirped right on cue, waving her hands gently in Rin’s direction. “You stay there with your fancy man; we’ll be over here when you’re ready!” 

“Oh, shit off!” she chided, feeling her cheeks burn. Turning to Sean, she shook her head. “They’re embarrassing as fuck.” 

“I can’t say I’m embarrassed, being labelled as your fancy man.” Pulling out a seat, he gestured to it with a flirtatious smile, ensuring her heart virtually catapulted against her ribcage. She definitely blushed furiously at that. Ahh, it was almost too easy, but then again Sean’s charm was legendarily flawless. Being well spoken, powerful, and as dangerous as he was gorgeous didn’t hurt either.  

A red-haired bad boy in a Balmain suit. If Rin had a type at all in this world, it was Sean Wallace. And boy, how the man himself saw that loud and clear.  

“So, I hear your parents are away in France right now?” 

“Yes,” Rin confirmed, the smidgen of envy in her voice clear. How she would have loved a long weekend in the French Alps skiing, too. “They’ll be hurtling down a mountain right now, while I’m stuck here in dreary London, slogging my guts out all in the name of revision.” 

He smirked, picking up his espresso and sipping it. Sean liked his coffee one way; strong and black. “Ah, but you do get Mulford Hall all to yourself for the weekend. Quite the party palace, one would assume.” 

She crinkled her nose, shaking her head. “The staff will grass me up if I even so much as open a can of cider with more than four friends in attendance. Mother dearest likes to keep her fucking tabs on me.” Rin didn’t dislike her mother, but it was no secret that she was daddy’s girl through and through. If he had his way, he’d have arranged for the antiques to be removed from banquet hall and allowed she and her friends run wild. Diane was not quite so lenient.  

Yes. A banquet hall. The Cavanagh’s were truly that wealthy, to have such in their fifteen-bedroom, eighteen-bathroom, sprawling abode located in Westminster, just around the corner from Hyde Park. Half of their sprawling gardens backed onto the park itself, in fact.  

Mostly, Mulford Hall was used as a successful wedding and events venue, half of the house sectioned off as a private family residence and inaccessible to the public, also being a historical location of interest for tourists. It had been in her family for centuries, gifted to one of her ancestors, the very first Lord Mulford by King Charles I. Now with no elder male heir and her grandparents having passed on, it remained in the family by the residing Lady Mulford, her mother. 

“I suppose the little ones would have plenty to say, even if the staff did keep schtum.” Oh yes, Sean was correct there. Her younger brother and sisters would likely relish in telling on her to their parents. Keeping secrets that did not directly benefit them was not in the interests of your average twelve, ten and nine year old children. “I mean, if they could even hear the sounds of partying. Does your mother not keep them in a turret or similar?” 

She snorted laughing into her coffee, spraying a fine mist of foam from the large cup, “Shut up, you shit. You know we’re not that grand.” Suddenly, she felt the cold wave of discomfort when he frowned, wondering if she’d pushed it a little in calling him a shit, even in tease. After all, they did not know each other beyond the boundaries of acquaintance. It was their parents who were friends, not them.  

He then reached, wiping a fleck of foam from her cheek, the corners of his mouth upturning as he watched her blush, leaning across the table. “It takes a brave person to refer to me as a shit.” 

Regaining her confidence, she licked her top lip, shrugging lightly. “Or a gobby little twat such as myself.” 

She was a pistol. He enjoyed that perhaps more than he should have. He laughed softly through his nose, sipping his coffee again as she continued. “I actually have the place to myself, staff aside. The nanny has taken the little terrors to Legoland for the weekend, and there aren’t any weddings on, so I’m enjoying pottering around the old pile in my pants.” 

He raised an eyebrow. “Just your pants?” 

“I like to give the gardeners something nice to look at.” 

God, and how nice her body was, he wagered, his eyes sweeping her momentarily. “I bet you do.”  

Lust. Lust delivered from behind full, long auburn lashes tinged with gold, eyes that burned like cool fire as he stared her dead in the eye, Rin feeling as if she was caught in a searchlight she could not avoid. Not that she’d want to. Being illuminated by the desire of Sean Wallace was something she’d only ever fantasised about as a girl. As a young woman, acting upon it now seemed within her grasp. 

And grasp for it she would. “You’re thinking about me in nothing but my pants, aren’t you?”  

Playful, yet direct. He liked that, liked that she was so easily wandering right into the jaws of his trap with such little effort. “I am.”  

She leaned closer, watching him retrieve a packet of mints from his pocket, placing one into his mouth. The way he so effortlessly pressed the white disc onto his tongue made her shiver, imagining the skill a mouth that clever and effortlessly cool might possess. He offered the packet, but she shook her head, the strongness of Trebor’s finest too much for her delicate tastebuds. “What else are you thinking?” 

He mirrored her, leaning near, eyes fixed unblinkingly as he ran his fingertip in a circle over the back of her hand. It was an action that made every single hair upon her arm stand on end. “I’m thinking that the next thing I want on my tongue is you.”  

Fireworks exploded in her chest and gut, a fizz of excitement glittering. Unexpected afternoon sex; it was a proposal most definitely to her liking. “Where’s closer, mine or yours?” 

“Mine,” he confirmed, rising from his seat as he pulled out his phone. “Westminster is a fucking ball ache of a drive at this time in the day.”  

He wasn’t wrong. While Sean called his driver, giving him the name of the coffee shop, Rin made a phone motion to her friends while mouthing ‘I’ll call later’, Rashida and Carly looking as alert as two meerkats keeping the watch at seeing their friend leave with the handsome young mystery man.  

Rashida couldn’t help the joke she made. It was too uncanny. “Little slag.” 

“Love you too, you knob.” Leaving to the sound of her friend's laughter, Rin joined Sean at the side of the curb, only waiting a few moments for the sleek, black Mercedes to pull up before them. He opened the door for her, Rin sliding in and moving across so he didn’t have to walk around, Sean climbing in and shutting the door with a soft clunk.  

“Home please, Tony.” he spoke to the driver, his eyes remaining ahead. She turned slightly to view him, feeling somewhat uneasy when he didn’t return her glance. Dropping her gaze, her thoughts began to race a little, jumping slightly when after a few moments, she felt his hand press to her thigh.  

It was a plan of effortless execution, Sean tracking her movements from afar for a few days prior, learning her daily routine. It truly had been as simple as turning up at her regular coffee shop prior to her usual time of arrival, turning on the charm and reaping the rewards. Leaning close, his beard tickled her earlobe, sending a thrill right through her. “I can’t wait to put my mouth between these fantastic legs of yours.”  

Neither could she.

[luxaofhesperides]

those who serve.

CHAPTER TWO: a conviction.

read chapter one on tumblr or read the entire fic on ao3.

this is 7k words. be warned. . . .

It takes three days of angling at what he wants before Alfred looks him dead in the eye and says, “You may ask me for anything, Danny. Please do not hesitate if you need to ask for help.”

So Danny bites the bullet and says, “Can I work for you? It just sounds like you have to do a lot on your own, and having someone else around might make things easier for you.”

Alfred blinks. “You… wish to work for me?”

“Yeah. Like, I need a job anyways but I doubt most places will hire a homeless high school dropout. But you know me, and you can give me errands to do so you have time for other things.”

“You would like to work,” Alfred says again, slowly, “For me.”

Danny gives him a long look. His heart starts to sink, heavy as stone. He’s starting to get the feeling that he’s messed up, that he wasn’t actually supposed to ask Alfred for help, that this is a mistake. It’s a stupid idea to begin with, and now that he’s actually asking, he can see that this was never going to work out.

He may have just ruined the only friendship he has in this dimension because of his stupid mouth. 

“Sorry,” he says, drawing into himself, ready to leave and hide away until the shame lessens enough that he can stand to be a part of society. Or, not a part, but on the periphery of society. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. It was stupid. I’ll just go now.”

“Danny,” Alfred says. He doesn’t reach out to Danny, just stands still with his impeccable posture, hands clasped in front of him. Danny could leave, could disappear and never be seen again. Alfred wouldn’t be able to catch up to him. He doesn’t need to stay, but something in Alfred’s voice leaves no possibly for refusal. 

He stops and lifts his head just enough to meet Alfred’s eyes.

“It is not stupid,” Alfred says sternly. “I was simply surprised. There will be details to be worked out, but I would be glad to have your help.”

“Really?”

Alfred smiles. “Really. Now, would you like to tell me what you would like to do while we walk?”

That’s something he really likes about Alfred: he always gives Danny a choice. It’s not a trick, either, there’s no wrong answer. He never demands anything, never orders him around, just offers Danny choices and gives him the time to actually chose what he wants. 

If Danny says no, he doesn’t want to talk about it at the moment, Alfred would accept it and change the topic, talk about something else. 

He can say no, and it’s a relief. 

He doesn’t, of course, because he does need this job, but it’s nice to know that the option is there.

“What’s there to say?” he begins, “I just wanna help you out. You’re always out way too early, doing all these errands on your own. And you’ve never mentioned anyone helping you while you work in that manor.”

“Well, I would like to know what you want to do, Danny. What sort of tasks would you like to oversee?”

Danny bluescreens for a moment. He’s never actually thought about his career, not after the accident that destroyed his future. There’s no way any of his space knowledge will be helpful in housekeeping, and most places don’t have sentient food that needs to be fought and defeated. Hell, he doesn’t even have a resume!

Not that this is like. A legitimate job interview or anything. It’s just asking for a favor.

Does this count as nepotism?

Danny is way too young to know any of this. He’s never felt more unprepared for something before. How are career talks supposed to go? Is he supposed to negotiate for his salary? What even is the minimum wage in Gotham?

“I don’t know,” he admits, tucking his hands into his hoodie pocket. “Whatever you want me to do, I guess.”

“Have you ever had a job before?” 

Danny shakes his head, trying to push down the shame that wells up in him. Alfred doesn’t seem upset by this answer, just thoughtful. It’s not like it’s a surprise, anyways.

“I see,” he says, “Would you like to shadow me for the day and get an idea of what I do?”

And then he can figure out how he wants to help Alfred, Danny realizes. It’s the solution to this problem, one that Alfred’s offering up as another simple yes-no choice. This would work, help him get a better idea of what he can do, what’s expected of him, but Danny doesn’t particularly want to follow Alfred around all day. 

Not because of the company; Alfred’s great, Danny would be happy to spend all week with him. The problem is that Alfred is only out very rarely, and spends all the rest of his time working on keeping that manor functional. 

Danny does not want to end up in the house of another rich person when he doesn’t know them. He doesn’t want anything to do with rich families that probably are either very weird or are hiding dark secrets. 

That being said, he does really need a job and he trusts Alfred well enough. If he says his employers are good, then Danny will trust in that and only be a little miffed if they try to kill him. 

“Sure,” he says, despite all his misgivings. “Sounds good.”

“Come along, then,” Alfred claps his hands together, looking rather happy about this outcome, “We have much to do.”

They walk to Alfred’s favorite tea shop, where the owner always has a new blend ready for him. Danny stays behind Alfred the entire time, carefully staying out of any small talk as he tries to force down the anxious twisting of his heart. This is all happening so suddenly, with barely any time for him to process, and it’s taking effort to not run away. 

It would be fine if this was all the job was; bodyguarding Alfred on his early morning errands, all personal business so he can catch up with friends or get something for himself before shifts all his attention to keeping his employers alive. 

He can handle bodyguardings. It’s practically the only thing he’s good at: keeping people safe no matter the cost to himself. 

But the thought of walking into a big, fancy manor to keep an absurdly rich family alive is making his skin crawl. Sam’s parents never liked him, preferring to stick to social circles far above him, and Vlad was Vlad.

These ones he knows nothing about, can do nothing to prepare for meeting them. All he has is Alfred’s vague comments about them when he talks about his job, but he’s always very careful to keep the details close to his chest. Danny doesn’t even know the names of the people Alfred works for. 

There’s no way they’re going to be okay with having him around.

Danny’s going to take one step into the manor and get kicked out. And Alfred will have to side with them to keep his own job and Danny’s back to where he started, out on the streets with no way of supporting himself. 

Maybe he should have thought this through more. Maybe he should ask if Alfred can set him up with some other job, ask one of his friends for an opening. 

“Are you quite alright, Danny?”

Alfred’s voice cuts through his thoughts and Danny realizes that he’s been silently following Alfred down the street, lost in his head, and he’s completely missed whatever Alfred just said. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Sorry, what did you say?”

“I simply wanted to know if you’ve eaten breakfast yet.”

“Oh, I haven’t. I don’t usually eat breakfast.”

Alfred makes a disapproving sound, then quickly turns on his heel and begins to walk across the street. Danny stares after him blankly, then hurries to follow after him, eyeing the few people walking out of buildings just in case they try to start something. 

For a man his age, Alfred sure moves fast. It’s a change from how he usually walks at a steady, sedate pace, leisurely strolling through the streets of Gotham as if it’s a walk through the park. It’s a struggle to adjust his pace to make sure he keeps up with Alfred without speeding past him.

“Where are we going?” he asks as Alfred continues his journey down the block. 

“We are going back to the manor,” Alfred announces, “I will not have anyone go hungry on my watch.”

Danny bites back his immediate reply of I am not going to the manor with you and instead says, “I’m not hungry, though.”

“Nonsense. I have cared for many teenage boys in my lifetime. You lot are always hungry.”

That’s. Fair. 

Yeah, most teenage boys are always hungry. Danny certainly was before… Before.

When he was fully alive and safe. Even when he was turned into a halfa and had to keep secrets, he was always hungry, stealing snacks from Sam and Tucker or going to Nasty Burger with them to settle his stomach. All his appetite disappeared the moment he had to flee his home dimension and it hasn’t come back since.

He doesn’t think it ever will. It’s not like he really needs to eat as much now; being half dead helps him last longer without food or water, and he’s sure his stomach is about the size of a walnut now, with how little he’s been eating.

Danny’s not about to dump all that onto Alfred, though, so he keeps his mouth shut and follows Alfred to a small parking lot behind a deli. There are a few cars left there overnight, and one that, while not as obviously expensive as the last one Alfred drove, is in much better condition than the other ones. Alfred pulls the keys out of his pocket and unlocks the car, opening the passenger side door first. 

“Come along now,” he says, “You’ll be having breakfast before you accompany me through my day.”

This is what he’s agreed to, so he doesn’t protest despite how getting into such a small, enclosed space makes his skin crawl. He hasn’t been in anything as small as a car in… months. In fact, the last time he was in a small space, it was the thermos after his parents caught him. Jazz had to steal it in order to release him, but his parents caught on a little too fast and chased after him before he could even get out of the house.

He doesn’t like small spaces anymore, is the point.

Barely breathing, Danny slides into the passenger seat. The door shuts behind him with a heavy click and suddenly there’s no air in the car. It’s only the fact that Danny can hold his breath for around half an hour that keeps him from hyperventilating. As long as he doesn’t breathe, he doesn’t need to worry about the way his lungs are twisting, how his throat is tight, how his hands shake where they’re pressed against his thighs. 

Alfred opens the door again, getting behind the wheel. He starts the engine and gently reminds Danny to put on his seatbelt, then reverses out of the parking space once he sees that Danny is buckled up. 

The drive is a blur. At some point, he thinks he hears Alfred trying to talk to him, but Danny is too focused on not losing his cool to actually process anything happening outside his head. One moment, they’re pulling out of the parking lot and into the street. The next, a large iron gate is opening in front of them, allowing the car to continue down the gravel road leading to a large, Gothic styled manor. 

Sam would love this place, Danny thinks when he sees it, then takes a shaky breath to fight back to burn of tears in his eyes. 

He immediately stops breathing again, hanging onto his composure by the thinnest possible thread. 

The car comes to a stop off to the side of the entrance steps. There’s also a wheelchair ramp there; accessibility isn���t something he was expecting to see from a rich person’s home, but it’s at least one sign that these people won’t be as bad as the ones he’s met before. 

Alfred likes them for a reason, he reminds himself, he just needs to see what it is before he commits to working around them in any capacity.

“Here we are, Danny,” Alfred says, cutting the engine and opening the door. Danny scrambles to follow, pulling off his seatbelt and all but falling out of the car in his rush to escape the suffocating space. “Are you quite alright?”

Danny blinks up at Alfred, trying and failing to calm down from the everything messing him up at the moment. “Yeah,” he croaks, then hurries to clear his throat. “I’m good. Just… overwhelmed.”

“If you would rather do this another day—”

“No! No, I’m fine, really. I can do this today. Better now than never, you know?”

Alfred doesn’t look like he believes him, but it’s fine. Danny can handle it! He’s handled everything that’s been thrown his way so far, no matter how terrible. He can handle staying inside a giant manor to learn how to be a butler.

Piece of cake compared to fighting Pariah Dark, really.

“So this is where you work?” he asks, trying to change the subject. “Big place.”

“Indeed. It has been in the Wayne family for many generations. My father worked here and I followed in his footsteps. I have cared for this home and its inhabitants for many decades now.”

Well. Never let it be said that Alfred isn’t dedicated to his job. 

“Wow. You must really love this job, to stay so long.”

“It can be hard,” Alfred says, a sad smile on his face, “But it is always worth it.”

That… sounds like there’s a story there. A painful one. Danny won’t pry, he knows better than to go poking his nose in sensitive matters like those; usually, death is usually involved and he is well aware of how difficult talking about death can be. 

Alfred unlocks the front entrance, pulling one of the large double doors open. “After you, Danny,” he says, holding it open. 

Danny ducks his head, mumbling his thanks, and steps inside. 

The manor is quiet. It’s dark, also, with only the soft light of a floor lamp illuminating the foyer. Everyone else must still be asleep, which isn’t a surprise seeing as it’s barely past dawn. Danny’s just gotten too used to being awake during the night, and had forgotten that most people don’t get up as early as Alfred does. 

Despite the darkness of the manor, he can pick out the fancy rugs and the large chandelier above his head. A grand staircase is at the end of the foyer, with hallways going along the side of the stairs. Seeing the manor from the outside is one thing. Standing inside it and feeling the true scope of how large it is, is something else entirely. 

“You take care of this entire place by yourself?” he can’t help but ask, glancing back to see Alfred shutting the door behind him. “Also, do I need to take off my shoes?”

“No need, though I appreciate you asking. And yes, I often tend to the manor by myself. When I am able, I will call in outside cleaning services to prepare the manor for large events.”

Despite having permission, Danny still feels uncomfortable walking all over fancy rugs with his grimy shoes. He’s been wandering all over Gotham, especially through quieter, dirtier areas. He doesn’t want to think about how difficult getting all the dirt out of the rugs is going to be. Making more work for Alfred when he’s supposed to be helping leaves a bad taste in his mouth.

Maybe if he just floats a little, just enough to keep his shoes off the floor without being obvious…

“This way, Danny,” Alfred says, taking the lead and walking down a large hallway on the right. He flicks a switch as he goes, the lights turning on a split second later and revealing the landscape paintings that decorate the walls. 

Man, Danny thinks, These people are Rich-rich. Maybe even richer than Vlad.

He hopes they’re not secretly a cult or something. Rich people always have some weird, fucked up secret they’re hiding. As long as it’s doesn’t involve murder or human experimentation, Danny can pretend he Does Not See and focus on helping Alfred.

The hallway leads to a large dining room with one of those extremely long tables, fit to seat twenty people. Smaller chandeliers hang from the ceiling, the dangling crystals glinting in the light. 

Alfred, thankfully, doesn’t stop there. Danny would walk out of the manor and find a barn to live in if Alfred tried to have him eat in there. It’s just not happening, not now, not ever.

Beyond the dining room is the kitchen. Though still larger than any kitchen Danny’s ever seen, it feels much more homely compared to the rest of the manor (that he’s seen so far). There’s a variety of papers pinned on the fridge door and a small shelf of cookbooks on the open space of the wall besides one of the windows. There are bar stools on one side of the kitchen island and a small table in the corner with six chairs, something more appropriate for smaller groups than the giant dining table. 

There are potted plants in two corners, bringing some color into the room, as well as a vase of bright flowers on the island. 

There is also, most notably, someone sitting on one of the bar stools, slumped over the island with his head resting in his arms. A cup sits off to his left, steam still wafting up from it. 

Besides him, Alfred makes a disapproving tutting noise that has the guy lifting his head and turning around to face them. 

“Hey, Alfred,” he says, voice rough with exhaustion. Even from this distance, Danny can see the bags under his ears. “Morning.”

“Master Tim, did you get any sleep at all?” It’s phrased like a question, but Danny can hear the reprimand clearly.

Tim can too, judging by his wince. “Some,” he says, not looking either of them in the eye. “It just wasn’t a night for sleeping.”

That means nothing to Danny, but it makes Alfred soften in sympathy. 

“I shall speak to Master Bruce about having your schedule for today cleared.”

“I can still work—”

“Absolutely not.” 

Tim looks like he’s gearing up to protest, then glances at Danny and slumps back down. “Fine,” he grumbles, pressing his forehead into the countertop, “But just this once.”

“This is one of my duties,” Alfred tells Danny as he walks towards the sink. “Taking care of the many stubborn members of this family. Getting them to take care of themselves is among the most pressing duties I have.”

“We’re not that bad,” Tim mutters.

“You came to this house for the sole purpose of helping Master Bruce,” Alfred counters.

Tim shrugs. “Yeah, that’s fair.” And then turns his attention back to Danny. “We’re all disasters, but I swear we know how to handle ourselves. Alfred just has strict standards.”

“I… don’t know if I’ll be able to help with that?” Danny says, looking between the two. “I’m usually the one being cared for, not the other way.”

“What, you get into a lot of trouble?”

“More like I’m very accident-prone.” 

“You’ll fit in great, then,” Tim smiles, then sits up and rolls his shoulders back. He grabs his mug, takes a big swig, and sighs. “Guess I should get back to what I was doing.”

Alfred pulls out a cutting board and a knife, sets them on the counter, then opens the fridge to pull out various fruits, a pack of bacon, and some eggs. “Danny, do wash your hands and then take a seat. Master Tim, I’m sure Danny would appreciate your company a little longer.”

Tim slumps back down and offers Alfred a lazy salute. He hooks his ankle around the bar stool besides him and pulls it out for Danny. 

This is going well so far. Nothing bad has happened, he hasn’t been attacked, and he’s met the first member of the family Alfred loves so much. Tim is chill; he’s clearly exhausted, has problems with sleeping and self-care, but he’s nice and seeing him act so casual, like any other teenager, has Danny relaxing. 

He forces himself to move, walking in the air just a centimeter above the floor, and rolls up his sleeves to wash his hands. He finishes quickly, shaking water off his hands into the sink, and hopes neither of them saw the Lichtenberg figures on his right arm. 

Alfred’s washing the fruit and laying them out on the cutting board when he glances over. Danny wants to help, but he also doesn’t want to get in the way, so he sits next to Tim, curling into himself some.

Tim watches him with a sharp gaze. He didn’t seem this awake a moment ago. The icy blue of his eyes feels dangerous, somehow, and Danny’s not sure what’s changed in between him washing his hands and sitting down, but he tries to stay still and not give away how nervous he is. 

I’m just being paranoid, he tells himself. He doesn’t exist in this dimension. No one is out to hunt him down. They don’t know he’s a halfa, and it’s going to stay that way. 

There’s no way Tim could know anything about Danny, but the look in his eyes makes Danny want to run. 

“You look like adoption bait,” Tim says suddenly. He takes another sip of whatever’s in his mug. Coffee, based off the smell.

“Um. What?”

Tim gestures vaguely at Danny. “Blue eyes. Black hair. Sad. Y’know, Wayne adoption bait.”

“Does Wayne only adopt kids with those features?” Danny squints at Tim. “Did he get you? Do you need me to break you out of here?”

Tim laughs and the sharpness of his gaze eases. “No! I’m kind of a special case since I went to him instead of the other way around. But a lot of the others fit that description, and Bruce has adopted a lot of sad kids over the years, so it’s a bit of a running joke in Gotham.”

“And he’s nice? He’s good to you? To everyone?”

If this is another Vlad situation, Danny’s going to get every kid out of the manor and somewhere safe. Where that somewhere is, he doesn't know yet, but he’ll figure it out once he gets there. Alfred might not want to leave, but he won’t mind Danny protecting him while he’s around this ‘Bruce’ guy.

Probably.

Whatever, Danny can just go invisible and keep Alfred safe that way. 

“Bruce is good,” Tim reassures. “He’s emotionally constipated and makes a lot of mistakes, but he means well and he cares about all of us. He’s a loser, but we all love him anyways.”

“Thank you for that, Tim,” comes a deep voice from behind them.

Danny tries not to jump out of his seat, manages to catch himself on the edge of the island before he flies up to the ceiling, and whips around to stare at the newcomer. 

“Good morning, Master Bruce,” Alfred says from where he’s plating all the cleaning cut fruit. 

“Hey, B,” Tim says, “Didn’t think I’d see you up so early.”

The man is large. Not as large as his dad—few people come close—but still bigger than Danny. He’s shoulders are wide and Danny can tell he’s packing a lot of muscle beneath his black turtleneck sweater. There are streaks of silver in his black hair, a few wrinkles around his blue eyes, and something about him sets Danny on edge.

He looks normal enough, but carries an undercurrent of danger. 

This is someone who can do a lot of damage if Danny’s not careful.

“Good morning,” he returns to Tim and Alfred, but his eyes are fixed on Danny. “And hello. I don’t think we’ve met before. I’m Bruce.”

Bruce walks closer and holds out a hand with a smile. It looks fake, but well practiced enough that most people wouldn’t notice. Danny, who is very well versed in reading people to make sure they’re not going to try and kill him, notices. 

He hesitates for a moment, then slowly takes Bruce’s hand into the world’s slowest, most awkward handshake. 

“Danny,” he says. “Sorry for intruding.”

Behind him, Alfred loudly sets a frying pan down on the stove. “You were invited, Danny. You are not intruding.”

Danny tries to pull his hand back, but Bruce tightens his grip without warning. He turns Danny’s hand over, looking over it with a critical eye.

“Your hand is very cold,” he says, “Would you like a blanket?”

A spark of panic flares through him and Danny makes his hand intangible for a brief second to free himself from Bruce’s grasp. “No thanks,” he answers with a tight smile, “I just have bad circulation.”

Bruce hums thoughtfully, then steps away. He claps a hand on Tim’s shoulder, then moves to one of the cupboards to start making his own cup of coffee. 

“Do you need any help, Alfred?” Bruce asks.

“I will not allow you to scare Danny away by setting the kitchen on fire again,” Alfred responds immediately.

“I could just set out plates,” Bruce amends.

“Please sit down, Master Bruce.”

Tim bites down a laugh, but his shoulders still shake with it. He turns his face away when Bruce looks at him, eyebrow raised judgmentally. He’s not smiling, but there’s a fond tilt to his lips, a softness in the heavy lines of his shoulders. 

Danny watches it all, content to disappear in the background as he slowly relaxes again, basking in the warmth of a family that so clearly loves each other. They’re all at ease around each other, safe and at home, even with a stranger in their midst. It reminds him a bit of being a kid, clinging to Jazz’s back as they waited for their dad to pull out a batch of his fudge, their mom making hot chocolate for them.

It’s a bittersweet memory now, but still something he cherishes. 

“We all try to help Alfred when we can,” Tim whispers to Danny, leaning over so they won’t be overheard, “But we’re pretty bad at it. Bruce, especially, can’t be trusted in a kitchen.”

“That sounds like a story I’d like to hear later,” he whispers back, and the grin Tim gives him is full of promise.

The kitchen quiets down after that, Tim and Bruce still tired and holding back yawns as Alfred continues cooking. Danny observes them all carefully, trying to learn more about them without actually having to talk to them. He watches Alfred cook as well, trying to learn through observation; he’s never cooked before, not when everything in the kitchen was ecto-contaminated and needed to be fought instead of eaten.

He’d like to learn. If Alfred’s willing to teach him, he’d like to learn how to cook normal food for normal people.

The morning creeps on, the world waking up outside. He can hear birdsong from outside, and though it’s too cloudy to see the sun, he’s sure it’s above the horizon now.

Alfred sets plates of cut fruit down in front of Bruce, then Tim, and then Danny. It’s followed by a separate plate of bacon and eggs. He asks the room at large how they would like their toast prepared, to which Bruce requests lightly toasted with honey, Tim asked for blueberry jam, and Danny doesn’t say a word.

“Danny?” Alfred prompts, and Danny looks up from his plate. 

“Oh, um, no thank you,” he answers awkwardly. “I don’t think I’ll be able to eat this much.”

Alfred accepts the answer easily enough, moving to start making the other requests, but Tim is staring at him with his piercing gaze again. Danny tries to ignore him, popping a blackberry into his mouth. 

It’s not Tim who says anything. It’s Bruce, who starts by clearing his throat and gently beginning with “Do you have a stable living situation right now, Danny?”

“Jesus, B,” Tim says, “That is not how you should be starting this conversation.”

“It’s important to know.”

“Yes?” Danny lies very unconvincingly, then slumps when three people give him disbelieving looks. “I’m doing my best, okay. And I’m taking care of myself just fine.” He nibbles on a piece of bacon to stop himself from saying anything else, hoping they’ll back off if he doesn’t make eye contact.

For a moment, it looks like Tim is going to speak again. Then a new voice pipes up from behind them and again, Danny has to cling to the counter to stop from flinching too hard. 

“Who is this,” a young voice demands. When Danny turns around, there’s a kid standing in the doorway, arms crossed, as he glares at Danny. 

“Um,” Danny says, “Hi? I’m Danny.”

The kid moves his glare from Danny to Bruce. “This was not mentioned,” he says rather accusingly. 

“This one isn’t mine,” Bruce says, “This one is on Alfred.”

Everything about this conversation is flying over his head, so Danny decides to ignore it and go back to slowly working his way through his first breakfast in around a month. It’s delicious, but he can only finish the fruit and some of the eggs and bacon before his stomach starts twisting. 

Tim pulls the plate away when Danny can’t eat anymore. “Don’t push yourself,” he says, “I can finish it, if you want.”

He gives up his plate with a grateful smile, and turns to get up and see if he can get a glass of water. The kid is right by his elbow when he turns and Danny has to take a deep breath and slowly let it out before he accidentally kicks the kid and sends him flying. 

“Why are you here,” he says, tense and ready to move. He looks ready for a fight, which is odd and concerning to see on someone who can’t be any older than twelve. 

“I was invited,” he answers, “I’m maybe going to work for Alfred? If today goes well, I guess.”

The kid’s eyebrows go up. “You are not being adopted.”

“No,” Danny says slowly, “I’m just looking for a job.”

Abruptly, the kid relaxes, then sticks out a hand. “I am Damian Wayne. I will be keeping an eye on you.”

“Don’t be rude, gremlin,” Tim says just as Danny shakes his hand. 

“I am being reasonably wary,” Damian counters, “You are far too lax with a stranger in our home.”

“I’m trusting Alfred to not bring in anyone dangerous,” Tim corrects.

“Boys,” Bruce calls out, warningly. They both look away from each other, scowling. “And Danny,” he continues, “If you don’t have anywhere to stay, you’re welcome here even if you don’t work.”

This time, it’s Tim who cuts him off with a quick call of “Bruce,” just as Damian says, “Father, enough.”

“If I can offer help, I will. I don’t need to adopt everyone who comes through here.”

Alfred sends him a withering look that has Bruce looking away, sipping his coffee, pretending he didn’t say anything. Tim scoffs loudly and Damian shakes his head disapprovingly. 

“I’m telling everyone you said that,” Tim declares, pulling his phone out of his pocket. He types something out, looking more and more awake now that he has more people to talk to. Or more people he can embarrass Bruce with. 

There’s definitely something that Danny’s missing here, but he doesn’t intend to spend enough time around them for it to matter. All he’s here to do is shadow Alfred and hopefully get a job. Maybe having friends in this dimension would be nice, but that’s something to consider after he’s figured out his living situation.

“Oh!” Tim says suddenly, holding out his phone to Danny. “Give me your number. You can text me any questions you have about us.”

“Can’t Alfred answer any questions I have?”

“Sure, but he’ll give you the polite, respectful answer. I can give you all the hot gossip.”

Danny can’t help but smile at that. He thinks he’s found a good friend in Tim, but only time will tell. “As much as I’d like that, I don’t actually have a phone. So.”

“I can get you one right now,” Tim says.

“No, no! It’s fine. I’ll buy one once I have like. A paycheck or something. Wait,” Danny pauses, “I don’t have a bank account either. Okay, so this is gonna take some time, but eventually I’ll have a phone!”

Tim turns to Bruce. “Okay, I can’t even judge you for this one. If you don’t let him work with Alfred, I’ll find a position for him at WE.”

WE? That’s a new term. There’s still so much he needs to learn about this dimension and Danny can’t get started because he can’t access the internet and all the libraries are closed when he wanders. 

Besides him, Damian clicks his tongue, then takes a plate of eggs, fruit, and jam covered bread from Alfred and takes a seat next to Bruce. 

Danny decides to take the lull in conversation as a chance to ask Alfred for some water, only to see that somehow, without him noticing, a full glass has appeared where his empty plate once was. He looks up to see Alfred round the island, passing off the request toast to Bruce and Tim, then collecting all the empty plates he can find.

He mentally notes the moment as further proof that Alfred has magic. 

The three members of the Wayne family busy themselves with their food. Danny cradles the cool glass in his hand, drinking slowly so he doesn’t upset his stomach even more, and tries not to tense up as the back of his neck prickles. They’re not obvious about it, but they’ll all paying close attention to him and it’s making him anxious. 

Normal people aren’t so focused or intense. They certainly aren’t as dangerous as the three in the kitchen. Danny isn’t even sure how he can tell, he just can. It might be some sort of instinct, recognizing them as potential threats due to all the ghosts he’s fought since the Accident. 

He really hopes he never finds how why they’re all so dangerous.

There’s quiet clink of a plate, and when he looks up, Alfred is taking the last few empty plates to the sink.

“I could wash those for you,” he offers, “Since it’s, y’know, what I’m here for. To help you.”

Alfred smiles warmly and shakes his head once. “There is no need just yet, Danny. Thank you for the offer, however. I would be glad to have such a kind person help me, should you choose to work with me by the end of today.”

It doesn’t feel right to let Alfred cook for him and clean up after everyone. But he also doesn’t want to go against Alfred in his workplace. Or his home? The manor may also be his home, which is worrying for the future of Danny’s professional boundaries. 

Damian leaves, saying he needs to get ready for school, and Tim mumbles something about work before Alfred talks over him and tells Bruce that Tim is taking a sick day. He doesn’t seem to mind being ordered around by a butler, though most of the orders are phrased as very pointed observations. Danny’s beginning to think it’s a British thing.

And then Alfred finishes washing the dishes and leaves everything in the drying rack, and says, “Why don’t we discuss the possible terms of Danny’s employment in your study, Master Bruce.”

“That sounds like a fine idea,” Bruce says as he stands, pushing his seat in. He gestures of Danny to follow him and begins walking out of the kitchen.

Danny hesitates, but goes easily enough, some of his worry easing when Tim and Alfred both walk with him, guiding him through the manor.

He’d look around and take in everything if he could; Danny’s too busy thinking of worst case scenarios to enjoy seeing all the paintings and photographs and various decorations scattered throughout the manor. Sam’s place was always clean, save for her room, and only existed to show off wealth. Vlad’s was a castle in Wisconsin, which already says more than enough.

Wayne Manor, on the other hand, is big and homey. There’s a history within these walls. It’s almost tangible, full of love and laughter and grief and hope. The wealth is obvious, but so is the love of family. 

Even in Bruce’s study, there are signs. Photographs on the wall, all carefully framed, of various people holding poses. Danny keeps his eyes on them as Bruce rounds the large desk and gets settled, taking in the smiles of a young boy next to an elephant, a trio of girls at a ballet, a group shot of the family on a beach vacation.

“They’re nice, aren’t they?” Tim asks, following his gaze to the photographs.

Danny nods. “Everyone looks really happy.”

“That’s probably why there’s so few of these photos,” Tim says, then quickly covers up his somber tone with a cough. “Go ahead and sit down.”

So he sits, feeling like he’s at the principal’s office, in trouble yet again for some ghostly nonsense. Except instead of his principal, it’s a rich man who might be his boss by tomorrow.

“Now,” Bruce begins, folding his hands together on top of the desk, “I understand that you want to work as Alfred’s apprentice, of sorts. Assist him with his own tasks. Is this correct?”

“Yeah. I mean, yes.”

“And if I’m understanding you properly so far, you are in need of a job because you’re homeless. Yes?”

“Also yes.”

Bruce nods thoughtfully. “If you wish to live within the city itself, we would be happy to help you find a good place to live. However, you could also live here, as Alfred does. It make needing transportation unnecessary, and you would remain close to Alfred should he need any help.”

He almost instinctively rejects the offer, too used to expecting the worse from wealthy men. An immediate offer to live with them? So suspicious it’s not even funny. 

But he doesn’t have anywhere else to go. And it would keep him close to Alfred. 

“Staying here sounds like the better option. I have a few conditions, though,” he says, watching Bruce’s face carefully for any sign of anger or annoyance.

There’s none. He’s as patient and unflappable as ever. 

“And they are…?” he prompts when Danny doesn’t continue. 

“I won’t be your son,” he says. “No adoption. I’ve had enough of rich men trying to force me into their families just to prove a point, or for some other stupid reason. I’m not having it here.”

“Fair enough,” Bruce says. 

“And if I find out you’re like, secretly evil, I’m allowed to run away with my body intact. You don’t get to keep any part of me.”

“Also fair,” Bruce says, nodding slowly as he begins to look more and more concerned. 

“No cloning or other experiments with humans. If I see any sign of that, I’m out.”

Bruce goes very, very still in a way that means nothing good. Danny squints at him, then glances to Tim so he can gauge if this is bad or not. Only Tim is also very still, staring down at the floor and slightly pale. Paler than before, in any case. 

“Please don’t have some sort of secret lair in your basement. I do not want to know if you’re leading a cult or not. I want no part of it. Either don’t have a secret lair in your basement, or keep me out of it.”

Alfred clears his throat delicately. There’s the faintest trace of laughter in his voice when he says, “All very good conditions, don’t you think, Master Bruce?”

“Right. Yes. I… accept those conditions. Which are very reasonable.”

Danny squints at him, wondering which of those conditions, exactly, is throwing him off guard. He’s well aware that all of them are rather outlandish, but considering his life, he’s not taking any chances. So far the Waynes seem like a pleasant family, but he thought Vlad was cool up until he got tortured and then subsequently never truly got away from him. 

This second attempt at life is too important to risk. 

If Bruce is evil with a secret basement liar, Danny is well within his rights to lose his shit about it.

“Okay,” Danny says after a minute. “That’s it. Those are all my conditions.”

“Right! Well, why don’t we talk about your salary.”

“Um.”

Danny shoots Alfred a wide-eyed look of panic. At that exact moment, Damian appears in the doorway of the study and says, “Pennyworth, I am in need of a ride to school.”

“What’s got you so excited for school?” Tim asks, twisting around so Damian can see his incredulous expression.

“Colin has promised to show me pictures of his cousin’s pet bird.”

Tim nods as if this is all very normal. Alfred quietly promises Danny that he’ll be back soon, then leaves with Damian so the kid can continue his education. Which leaves Danny floundering of an answer, at a complete loss as he tries to come up with reasonable numbers for a salary.

“Can I just shadow Alfred for a day before we talk about this?” he asks, searching for a way out of this situation.

Bruce frowns. “It would be best to get the details settled now. You’ll have plenty of time to learn from Alfred later.”

“Let me handle this,” Tim says, putting a hand on Danny’s shoulder. Then he looks at Bruce and suddenly isn’t the tired, fun teenage boy Danny’s been hanging out with during breakfast. Now he’s serious, holding himself tall, as if he has equal standing with Bruce. 

Please come back fast Alfred, Danny mentally pleads as Tim and Bruce start speaking about wages and hours and health insurance and kidnapping policies. 

What the hell kind of butler job even needs a kidnapping policy? 

Maybe he didn’t think this through. But now that he’s here, Danny’s determined to see it through. He’s gotta get this job; if not for his sake, then for Alfred’s.

No one should have to handle the Waynes, daily, on their own. That, at least, is something Danny can help with. 

If there’s anything Danny’s good at, it’s dealing with crazy. 

Now that’s something he can confidently put on his resume. 

("Are you sure about him?" Damian asks as Alfred drives him to school.

"Quite certain," Alfred replies, smoothly switching lanes.

"And he's just here to work? Not for Batman, or Robin, or to infiltrate the family?"

"Indeed. In fact," Alfred says, glancing up into the rear view mirror where he can see Damian scowling down at his backpack, "he was rather insistent that no one adopts him. It was one of his conditions for staying in the Manor."

This isn't much, just word of mouth for a stranger they know virtually nothing about, but it's enough to appease Damian for the time being.

"Fine," he says, just as they pull up to the school drop-off lane. "I will permit him to stay so long as he doesn't harm the family or try to take my place."

"Very good. I imagine you will get on well with him once you get to know him. He's a difficult boy to dislike."

"We'll see," Damian mutters, then adjusts his grip on his backpack in preparation to leave. "I shall continue my surveillance of Danny when I return from school."

"Have a good day, Master Damian," Alfred calls out after him as he exits the car. He lingers just long enough to see Damian walk through the gates of the school, the merges back into traffic and begins the drive home. And if he drives a little faster than normal, there's no one around to point it out. Not that anyone could blame him for looking forward to day of teaching Danny the various ins and outs of his duties as a butler.

Bruce has had many children to raise and mentor in the lovely heroes and people they are today. It's about time Alfred got a student of his own.)

[presidenthades]

I've lost all my faith in this season, my favorite characters seem to have been written as an afterthought or are just standing there without doing much (or worse, they were completely eliminated) Aegon is not my favorite (he's not my least favorite character either, Aemond and Alicent exist for a reason) but tgc makes that loser really endearing and seeing him call his mom at his most vulnerable moment made me feel things...

I was thinking of an au where everything stays the same as the show but Jace is a girl, maybe she could bond with Rhaenys like she did in the Golds universe (dark-haired Targaryen women, heirs to the throne but with a male relative who puts her right at risk) Rhaenys could take Jace with her to Kings Landing as her ward and when everything goes to hell Rhaenys flees without being able to take her granddaughter with her. How do you think the greens would deal with Jace among them? Do you think this Aegon would become obsessed with having his niece in his power now he's king? Maybe Jace would play her cards well and take advantage of Aegon's need for approval and love for her and her mother's benefit...

Imagine the scene of Aegon crying after Jaehaerys' death and after Alicent leaves without comforting her son, Jace enters the room to do exactly that or when he inevitably complains because Otto rejected his idea of returning the sheep to the farmer and Jace comforts him by telling that it was a good idea and even offering to help him prepare to talk to the Council. I know that if Aegon had a Jace by his side (even when she has her own agenda) many of the disasters to come would have been avoided and Aemond would have no chance of naming himself regent because she can work with her drunken uncle but will never allow her brother's killer to sit on the throne

I’ve been thinking about this prompt a lot. I know we’re trying to keep things as close to show canon as possible, but there are some questions that must be asked.

Between Jace (who is Laenor’s bio daughter) and Luke (who is presumably Harwin’s bio son), who is Rhaenyra’s heir and who is Driftmark’s heir? I established in The Golds that, based on what Rhaenyra said to Rhaenys in S1E8, Rhaenyra might make a son her heir over her daughter. But show!Corlys is very “history remembers names,” so would he also prefer a male heir? Or does his granddaughter being biologically Laenor’s change things?

Either way, Rhaenys definitely shows favoritism to Jace, even more than in the Goldsverse. This would add to tension between Jace and her siblings. Jace feels like Luke is the favorite for being the eldest boy, while Luke feels like Jace is the favorite for being legitimate. There’s even more tension if Rhaenys takes Jace as a ward in Driftmark for a few years. In this AU, Jace might not be very close to her siblings, though she would still love them.

The Last Supper might go differently since Jace wouldn’t retaliate to Aemond’s Strong toast. Maybe Luke tries to take on Aemond by himself. 😂 But even if Rhaenyra takes her other kids back to Dragonstone, one could argue that Jace stays with Rhaenys as her ward. So that’s how Jace ends up stuck in KL when everything happens.

This is one of the best case scenarios for the Greens. Even if Jace isn’t as close to her mother and siblings in this AU, she’s still a very valuable hostage. Honestly, if Rhaenyra’s daughter is trapped in KL, I have a hard time imagining Rhaenyra doing much of anything out of fear something happens to Jace. But Daemon in this AU doesn’t care much about Jace, so maybe we can do what the show does and blame all the bad TB decisions on him. 🤷🏻‍♀️

On the Green side, Otto wants to make doubly sure they’re keeping Jace, who is a dragonrider and whom Greens would argue is the only legitimate heir to Driftmark. It would be kinda funny if Otto suggested marrying her to Aemond. 😅 Aegon would, of course, lose his shit and do his best to stop it from happening. He probably starts writing to the High Septon about whether they can bring back polygamy.

Let’s say Storm’s End still happens, because even if Rhaenyra is afraid for Jace, she reasons it’s still OK to send out messengers. When Jace hears about what happened, she DEFINITELY doesn’t want to marry Aemond. She has a decent survival instinct, and I imagine she and Aegon were still close as kids, so she may intentionally latch onto Aegon to improve her odds. Aegon is happy to be latched onto.

If Jace is there to give Aegon all the love and validation he wants, stuff like Rook’s Rest probably doesn’t even happen because he isn’t pushed over the edge/Jace talks him out of it.