#i doubt this theory will turn out true but it would be neat. or like a really cool au/id

[strobbylemonade]

GIRLS I HAVE ILLUSIONS OF GRANDEUR

this theory’s probably a stretch but it is with my utmost bullshittery that i propose: ex-color don quixote?

fantastic analysis op thank you so much btw becuase HOOH. there’s some overarching themes here so this is my best attempt to jump off of this information i guess? and very vague spoilers for LoR

right, so the biggest thing is how many secrets she keeps and how much we don’t know about her. her being a color would be a Pretty Fucking Big Deal and absolutely something that needs to be redacted in files. also, with the whole canto ii bit, it reminded me a bit of when gebura called out [REDACTED] for not being who they claimed to be? she’s also one of the only sinners that doesn’t get ANY references to her past in the trailer — rodya meursault and faust have backgrounds relating to their past even though all cgs are them in their lcb uniform, but with don? the cg IS the background. hm.

from what we do know of her past, we know that she has dealt with distortions and abnormalities before, she frequently rampaged the streets until her friends beat her fucking senseless (reminds me of someone else’s depressive spiral), she is INCREDIBLY FUCKING STRONG (not only strong — she is, but it’s explicitly stated you need to be the stealthiest, most silent person alive to sneak up on ryoshu) and also her deal with vergilius??? could be explained by her being a colour as well. maybe they were contacted by hana and forced to work together, explaining why they have a deal despite verg not liking her. or maybe she was demoted for her rampages??? and that’s why she has no pride. like. at all. and it would also coincide with how contradictory her character as it is stands — her justice is always misaligned and causes more harm than good. she is cheery and generally selfless but also doesn’t hesitate to kill people who stand in her way. she has confidence in her actions but again — no pride whatsoever. she’s obsessed with fixers …? (i’m just saying she’s either overcompensating in her disguise OR it was the easiest excuse to explain why she already knows so much. OR she’s just obsessed with fixers and stumbled her way into being one)

the interaction where her peculiar eye colour is called out is also interesting. aside from gregor she’s the only person to have hair + eye + character colour match up, and also the only character to have ANY other colour in their outfit (her yellow shoes) that deviate from company standards.

yeah there’s like. a LOT of holes in this theory (are they all not incredibly strong, vergilius also doesn’t wear his colour, it might be weird to reuse plot points across relatively unrelated games) but i think it’s cool.

Okay I kinda decided to write a list of "shaddy" things around Don to keep it in order.

So there are two parts "Things that definitely were intentional and will reappear later" and "Maybe that's product of my imagination, maybe not, who know" to not mix important parts with questionable

Things that definitely were intentional and will reappear later

1. [REDACTED]

That thing appears in her character description, in list of particulars , and none of other characters has anything like this. Not even Outis whose records about past are not permitted for us. Which makes me question what the fuck is that???

2. Spoiler CG

That's all we have from TGS teaser for her. All other CGs with her presence already were shown in the plot, and only this one left. And it frankly gives us nothing. It seems that Don in battle, but they have battle every chapter and we have no fucking hint who she against there.

3. Background and Ferris wheel/windmill

We can see a wind mill behind her back on her promo art. Or technically a ferris wheel in shape of wind mill with merry-go-round. And that's somehow connected to her, but in which way? Is it about her past? Or is something metaphorical as Yi San? Is there any amusement parks in the City???

4. Her eyes

We have this moment in Canto II Episode: 8

And in the City where you can literally change your eye color to any color you want that kinda means at least something

5. Dance

Canto II Episode: 15 and that sceen

It's creepy how her voice lowers down and how this gang implies that she's insincere. It is the first when we understand that there is something fucked up with her

6. Don, Vergilius and The Deal

Canto III Episode: 10

Vergilius punishes Don for her reckless behavior and it seems cruel, but expected until-

There is the deal between Don and Verg, and a mere mentioning of it is enough to shut Don up for the rest of the chapter. It seems like this deal was made on the day when she joined Limbus company... but isn't Faust the one who found and hired sinners? We know for sure she was the one to hire Yi San and Vergilius himself. And as far as we can see, Vergilius doesn't seem to want Don in his crew. So why make a deal with her???

7. Old Friends

Canto III Episode: 19

Sinclair has an episode, and Don volunteers to help him which leads to

And explains her action "Pardon my rash action. Oft I would find myself overcome by fervor, rampaging much the same as a riderless horse. At such moments, mine old friends helped me to come to myself—by beating me senseless. ‘Twas, at times, the only remedy to the fever that had overtaken me."

And that's like the only thing we get to know about her past. Her friends used to beat her regularly because of her episodes. And sinners are surprised with this, which means it's not a common way in The City(I wouldn't be surprised if it was). But it works on Sinclair, bringing him to his senses and leaving us with questions such as "Who was Don's friends?" and "How exactly Don's rampage would look?"

8. ...

Canto IV Episode: 28

Sinners discuss the deal they made with Limbus company and reason why they joined it and

Don has this "...." for some fucking reason.

And the thing is that other Sinners were quiet too. Meursault, Hong Lu, Rodya- didn't say a thing during this talk, but only Don's silence was highlighted. Which makes us wonder how her deal differs from others?

(and if she made a deal at all)

9. Role

Canto IV last chapters

Sinners are given roles from Yi San's past according to their personalities, and Don gets the role of Gubo, second shaddiest parson in League, and the man who kept Yi San locked and drugged.

Kinda kinda surprising, isn't it?! I mean we met Gubo a few times and Don seemed to be the least matching person to him, but Yi San's mind still chooses her to play him. Which again raises a lot of questions.

10. Familiar sight

Canto IV Episode: 53

Sinners see Dongrang and how he speaks with someone whom they don't see. That's sight is surprising for all of them, but

Don quixote and Faust

And if for Faust it was expected to know about Distortions, how exactly did Don find out these symptoms? Was she distorted? Or was someone close to her?

WE DON’T FUCKING KNOW

11. La Sangre de Sancho

Why is her personal EGO named "Blood of Sancho"?! It's the only EGO that includes someone name. Is it her name? Is it the name of her friend? Why she wields his blood. Is he dead? How did he die?

12. Moon

That's technically a question to Shi IDs together, because they live to mention Red Moon, but no one explain what the fuck it suppose to mean? And there is no explanation in Ruina or Lobotomy?

Okay, we finished with good stuff, and there starts part where my delusions lie. Their credibility differs from "maybe" to "very low", and I understand that, but I can't ignore it, so there is it

1. MURDER

Don commit the third murder on the bus, killing Ryoshu, and it doesn't seem surprising, but in Canto IV we learn that it's extremely difficult to sneak on Ryoshu and only professional killers of higher rank managed to do it. But Don managed to kill her, without any resistance.

Of course it can be said that Ryoshu wasn't on guard at that moment, or it was made for comedic effect, but there is a chance it could mean something.

2. Star

“¡Por alcanzar la estrella inalcanzable!”

"To reach the unreachable star!"

I could ignore this just as cool quote, but in Ruina there was so many talks about stars, and in Limbus it continues making it's an important metaphor (or sometimes a real thing). It makes me think how much my understanding of those words will change after her Canto?

3. Lack of Pride

Sinclair and Don are the only sinners who can't use their personal EGO by themselves and that's already must to mean something, but then Sinclair gets ID with sin he needs, but Don doesn't have. She has four IDs and none of them have Pride. Is this just a coincidence or Pmoon tries to tell us something? I guess we will see with next ID

Okay, that's it. At least, that's all I remember. If you have anything else which I missed (for both part, I would like to hear your delusion about any weird phrase or sprite or anything else)

I guess I will update this list with time, when Pmoon answer my question or give more of them.

Hope it was fun to read

[tildeathiwillwrite]

Writemas Day 16: Keepsakes

<- Previous | Masterpost | Next ->

Prompts: The hiss of the wind

Fandom: Original Work

Words: 800

Tag List: (message me to be added or removed) @fourwingedsnake @whumperofworlds @pigeonwhumps @mr-orion @scaewolf

@the-ellia-west @agirlandherquill

CW: death mention, injury mention, doubt

A/N: gonna be releasing new parts intermittently through the rest of December, also gives me time to hash out an ending ahead of time to close out the tale :3

*****

The first thing Thea noticed when she came to herself again was the hissing of wind, its frigid touch upon her skin as it swirled in through the broken window. I should fix that, she thought to herself as she opened her eyes.

Her fury from before had abated somewhat, though whether that was due to time or to the vision artificially soothing her, she didn't know. But it didn't particularly matter. Anger was pointless, anyway, though it more often than not prompted her into action.

"Really, Caelum?" She muttered, hands still on the open clasps of the trunk. "Another vision?"

Altair hummed in thought behind her. "Is that so? He seems to like attaching those to spells pertaining to you. Was it another memory?"

She nodded. "The bridge, in Volantis. When he told me his plan, but not really. Only that he had one."

"Yes. I recall him being particularly paranoid about us knowing about it. Or perhaps speaking it aloud for potential listeners to overhear. Regardless, it worked."

Did it?

Sure, it took six years, but Caelum was eventually returned to Volantis by force. And it appeared the Slain were well aware of that, planning on it, even. Their own little revenge, for breaking their rules, perhaps?

Thea didn't voice these thoughts aloud, afraid that voicing them would make them true. She instead flipped open the lid of the trunk. The inside was packed neatly, and nearly everything inside didn't look to have been disturbed in some time. The exception were two small, leatherbound notebooks, with tiny symbols carved into the cover like a border.

She picked the first one up and flipped through it, finding page after page of hand-written words in Caelum's script, painstakingly neat. The notes on the basics of spell-weaving were a far cry from the complexity of the threads described in the pages, and Thea knew she had found what she was looking for. The second one was similar, but less on the composition of the threads and more on musings, a place for thoughts and theories. Another promising lead.

Setting the notebooks aside, Thea searched through the rest of the trunk. Finding items she had forgotten existed, packed carefully away. A leather bracelet, one of the first things Caelum had gotten for himself in Volantis. "Proof," he'd said, putting it on, "that everything that happened here, happened."

At the time, Thea hadn't seen the logic behind it. She hadn't thought she'd ever forget.

How wrong I was....

A small box, containing a stone from the silver river. Possibly the same area as the bridge in the memory. The river didn't behave like water from the place of the living, so the stone was worn, but irregularly, making for a strange, lopsided shape that shimmered oddly in the light.

And, most importantly, two flowers. Preserved in such a way that their colors were just as vibrant as in life, the flowers bestowed upon Caelum and Thea when they completed the trial in the Living Grove. Altair had his, he'd likely left it in Lerwick unless he for whatever reason decided to bring it with him to Eastcliffe.

Caelum's dahlia, darker than night, the petals more delicate than the most fragile of glass.

Thea's rue, a dozen tiny flowers on one stem, as golden as the summer sun.

None of them knew the significance of the flowers, only that the titles were of particular importance to the Slain. And Caelum had kept both his and hers safe, all these years....

Other things were kept in the box, but Thea decided to look through the rest later. She turned and handed the notebooks to Altair. "This one has his notes on complex threads," she said, "and this one has ideas, thoughts."

He looked at them for a long moment before handing them back. "As much as I'd love to study this now, I really should take some time to rest, let the rest of my body heal itself from the electricity."

Thea studied him, noting how even seated on the floor, he looked a little unsteady. She nodded, tucking the notebooks under one arm, and rose, holding out her hand. He took it and allowed her to pull him to his feet. He swayed on his feet but managed to stay upright as Kore handed him his cane.

Altair nodded to her in thanks. "I can get myself to my room. We have discovered much today." With that, he turned and left the room, leaning a bit more heavily on his cane than usual.

[afklancelot]

recently got into HOL and my silly autism brain has taken the reigns with this book. anyways i would (capital L) Love to hear your theories/hidden symbolism notes on this book if youre willing to share

hello yea id love to! doubt it will be coherent at all cuz i didnt take notes but ill do my best

one of the more prevalent theories of HoL is that Pelafina is the true author of the book. The fact that "A Novel" text on the front page, the "First Edition" text, and the text Johnny uses just before getting into the baby story is purple, and Pelafina often being associated with purple, is definitely not a coincidence. In addition, the baby story being about a mother and her dying baby alludes to Pelafina and Johnny, implying Johnny never existed, at least as an adult (either he died as a baby/stillborn, or his mother actually succeeded in strangling him as a kid). One of Pelafina's coded letters (there's at least two if i remember correctly) also mentions Zampano, so it's plausible that Zampano was Pelafina's lover and later disappeared from her life, and Pelafina integrated him into the book she was writing.

A bit minor in terms of symbolism, but notably the word "changeling", according to the index, is only used two times: one in Johnny's section, and one in Pelafina's section. Johnny's a changeling in that he makes up stories to protect himself: pretend to be someone he's not, and he never told anyone, at least in LA, about his actual childhood. Pretty obvious, yes. Pelafina's also a changeling as well using the "Pelafina is the true author and Johnny was dead all along/never existed to begin with", in that she acts like johnny is alive by sending letters to him, when in reality he was killed by her/died in birth/never existed. She pretends to be someone she's not by acting like a mother, in other words.

That said, while I see the Pelafina author theory as the most plausible theory for HoL, i kinda ignore it cuz imagining a world w/o Johnny Truant makes me sad :,)

a connecting theme for all of HoL is obsession. Will obsesses over the house's changing architecture, Holloway obsesses over a potential beast within the labyrinth, Johnny obsesses over the manuscript of The Navidson Record, hell, even Karen expresses obsession in trying to ignore the house (through Feng Shui and whatnot). And of course, there's what happens when obsession takes hold, best seen in Will and Karen neglecting their kids and each other (Will moreso), Holloway's refusal to abandon a 'mission' and shooting Jed thinking the latter was the beast, Johnny not going outside his apartment for days on end and losing time, not seeing his friends at all, you get the drift. We the readers even emulate it, obsessing over the book, what it meant, and what actually was real or not. It's only when Will burns the book be brought, House of Leaves, that things start to take a turn for the better: he lets go of his obsession of the house, Karen rescues him, and they live a happier life away from the house. Also seen when Johnny meets the band who shows him the book as well, as the very last passage in chronological terms has him finding closure over finding the book in the band's hands ("It's going to be alright. It's going to be alright"). not rlly hidden symbolism or a theory but i always love talking bout the obsession theme and stuff.

also one more thing: Johnny thinks the number nine is connected with him, and seeing his math i can't disagree. what's interesting, and i found out only recently from going thru the eht namuh website, is that the number nine in the Bible is a symbol of finality and completeness (as a TF fan, this statement feels ironic). His musing pops up around his final chapter he actually appears in the book, where while it does leave him w an ambiguous ending, it also completes his story arc, including giving him some closure. idk where im going with this but it's just something neat.

[tragically-jane-doe]

I'll never be able to acutely explain how lovely and disappointing it was that I figured out who the fuck killed Luke with in the 1st few episode chapter thing anyways me screaming about who dun did it in read more thing a ma bob so like

SPOLIERS for the book

Murder in the family

IVE SEEN TO MANY CRIME SHOWS AND HAVE ZERO FAITH IN KIDS LIKE HOLY FUCK NO ONE THOUGHT TO LOOK INTO THE KIDS A BIT MORE AT THE TIME LIKE CMON YOU WANT ME TO BELIEVE THAT GUY HEARD NOTHING WHEN HIS STEP FATHER WAS KILLED MR I WAS 10!!!!

Anyway it was repeated so fucking much guy was only 10 guy was the only one at home like c'mon baby please hear me out kids can be fucked up

But like so disappointing cause I got reced this book offa tiktok and like the ppl who read it said they didn't see it coming and I was so fucking excited for that I was ready to take fucking notes my dude I did I took notes for all of 3 chapters and they did nothing for me because of one simple line that cemented that one of those fucking kids did it

Guy "then you called 999"

Maura HESITATES then nods

Like okay why you hesitating baby why your obvs disturbed bout something it's a very known thing that family usually protects family I doubt you'd be doing this for ur mama

But like I understand her I would probably not cover for my sibling but I understand also low-key love how Maura covered for Amelia and Amelia covered for Guy those fucking kids are nutters

POOR FUCKING AMELIA BTW she legit saw guy do it and proceeded to shut the fuck up about it and then 20 YEARS LATER that mother fuckin boy is bout to air the shit like damn also I saw her I saw her little why don't we air his shit text like girl ffs you would have ended that show so fast if you did

And on a different note in one of the reddit bits this chemical thing gets brought up that can make it look like you've had a heart attack I for sure thought they would tie that shit in with Andrew later on like damn you had my ass but also could've tied it in with guy cause u know the last bit

And maybe a tiny bit it was maybe lazy to do that final meeting like c'mon

I also hope Mitch goes to prison which probs he didn't cause time limits and such which actually I'm not sure if London has that like america does and also on the fact that it was statutory so whooo knows but I know I wanted to smack a bitch like how dare how dare you say oh she was sophisticated motherfucker girlie pop was 15 I don't care if she was born with a silver spoon in her mouth she was 15 and you sir were 21 stop referring to yourself as a kid stop it please

ALSO I LOWKEY HATE HOW BILL KNEW A BUNCH OF SHIT B4HAND it kinda ruined the fun for me but the twisty bit of Luke being Eric and Eric being Jonah was neat I'll give them that

Also fuck Nick just fuck him

A film genius though like damn I actually wanted to see the show and had to remind myself it didn't exist

Imagine how fucking insane it would be if it did it would be so fucking huge (if there is a show like this that's real not like fiction I would eat that shit up) but also I have issues with how true crime media is most of the time cause some of it is a bit dick sucking towards the bad dude which in turn has mentally ill women/girls be also very very dick sucking towards the fucking murderer but also some of it is just fucking gross towards to victims

ANYWAYS IM CONFUSED ON HOW TO FEEL ABOUT GUY AND THAT FUCKING SUCKS BECAUSE LALIA EXPLAINED HOW IN THEORY IT HAPPENED BUT LIKE FFS HE WAS A KID AT THE TIME BUT THEN AGAIN HE BASHED THE SHIT OUTTA LUKE

Also for any of the mentally ill bitchs like moi that's watched criminal minds a million and one times my faith in kids was killed off in the ian Gallagher episode and I refuse to ever watch it again it makes my skin crawl

[petra-creat0r]

Oooooooooo! Elephanto is neat! Okay let's see!

Prediction Bosses

Bitsy - Being a chapter 3 forgotten actor animated purple soul mode secret boss herself, she can definitely relate to Elephanto. Perhaps even more when she realizes that he didn't originally look like that and was so young when he met the "strange someone" and stuff. She'd insist on getting this guy some tea and biscuits so they can chat and bond over animation and video based stuff.

Elymas - Holds their usual superiority complex like they do with everyone. Yet they'd be off put by the way Elephanto can squash and stretch his body. Probabky finds it demonic and likely considers him possessed or something. Tiny bird is whatever holy object they can find and dosing this toon in holy water. I doubt they will like what happens after.

Veratus - I imagine the rat solider is fairly neutral when it comes to Elephanto. Until he learns of the forcing former co-stars to still act with him. I kinda see Veratus seeing that costume as a parasite like the parasitic plants overtaking himself and in a twisted sense of justice trying to "remove" it which may or may not just be him trying to kill Elephanto. ... that probably ain't gonna turn out well for Ver. Also fun fact, in my take of Deltarune, Veratus's weapon, the Royal Rapier, might be a weapon for Asriel. Potentially. Still working it out.

Fool's Fate Bosses

Dorothy - Much like Bitsy, I see Dorothy feeling sympathy for Elephanto. Dorothy was never replaced, not directly, but she was meant as a Christmas present that never got given and some what resents a lot of Broadway's toys now. Especially the more popular Mr. Slinkywriggles. I imagine her sympathy quickly turning to rage as that is her core emotion.

Poly - Poly also became more erratic and insane after meeting the "strange someone" (well, all the secret bosses did), and he was actually also replaced like Elephanto. His cabinet was replaced by Electric Rhythm Empire seemingly out of the blue, with everyone loving Empress, Emperor, and their daughter Ritsu instantly and leaving the little polygonal platformer in the dust. By the time Chicago and the gang found him, he'd lost it trying to recreate his game and having people play it despite Poly himself being so very, very, corrupted. Needless to say, Poly's joining Bitsy and Dorothy at the Elephanto sympathizer/empathizer table.

Casper - Also a technical chapter 3 boss, but this time from the Woody Theory rather than abandoned cartoon camp. I don't think Casper likes Elephanto. Sure they're mostly in the same boat, canceled shows and all, but Casper's dark side is Rattler, who he's afraid off/doesn't recognize half the time. Also the idea of forcing coworkers to still put on the show seems bizarre and not right to the cowboy cat. Perhaps part of that's because Casper can't remember his co-stars as there weren't plushies of them abandoned in Noelle's classroom, but you know.

Noir - Detective Noir would be the only person (asides from the Junior Secret Squad) trying to get down to the bottom of the mystery of Elephanto and his show. Trying to figure out why it suddenly got canceled, piecing together the tragedy of Filmso and the atrocities of the Darkner as Elephanto. It'd be like a true crime mystery to the detective, perhaps even complete with a case of corporate espeanouge and fraud. Would he tell anyone about this? No. Noir would just be in his corner mostly ignoring Elephanto as any actual person at all.

----

I might draw Elephanto with Bitsy tomorrow, it's late for me rn.

I hope you enjoyed and feel free to correct me on anything or add your thoughts on interactions between our bosses and stuff. Gn!

((People should send me their secret bosses.

Both to draw and describe how mine would react to them.

That'd be cool

[dastardlydandelion]

my thoughts on fear street 1666 now that i finished scrubbing all the toilets, got to go home and watch it

holy shit. that movie. wow. 

it wasn’t as fun as the other two. didn’t employ the same campy tropes. didn’t present itself in a flourish of period typical style. while i enjoyed the first two films paying homage to classic horror tropes and making the most of the stylish side of their respective environments, i am v grateful and relieved that 1666 *wasn’t* as fun as the other two and actually presented the horror of puritan fanaticism and witch accusations more srsly. imo it portrayed that grave, twisting dread that the subject matter calls for. i appreciate that bc i think i would’ve been uncomfortable if they attempted to do smth more campy with the time period given what we already knew abt the circumstances of sarah’s death even before the film. 

more of me blathering on and on abt fear street 1666 under the cut: 

the twist actually worked on me this time. they actually got me on this one, u guys. i rly watched this franchise believing sarah fier was possessing ppl and wreaking her vengeance on the town, but this whole time it was the fuckin’ goodes. nick, i never liked u, i think ur more interesting than i did before before when u were a generic as generic gets asshole, so now ur somewhat more interesting but even bigger of an asshole than i gave u credit for. ur literally the worst asshole of assholes, ur a walking infected hemorrhoidal rectum of a human being. 

don’t get me wrong, i always thought sarah was going to be portrayed sympathetically. i never doubted that. my theory was that sarah was going to be a sympathetic villain. i thought 1666 would’ve revealed why she cursed shadyside. i figured she would’ve cursed her townsfolk for turning their backs on her, maybe, or hurting/killing hannah, or using her for her witchcraft and then getting angry if it backfired on them, or smth like that. i thought we were going to watch a story abt sarah’s descent into darkness and while she’d defo be a tragic villain, she rly would be the person behind the possessions...but it wasn’t even her. she and hannah were just vulnerable to the town’s suspicion and persecution bc they were queer women who didn’t behave the way society wanted them to behave. and they were blamed for evil actually wrought by heterosexual men in power, and when sarah realized there was no way out of it, she took the blame upon herself so hannah was spared and she cursed only the goode family?? 

THAT IS SO MUCH BETTER. FUCK. THAT IS SUCH A BETTER STORY. kudos to this trilogy for being more intelligent than it ever had to be, when it could’ve just skated on the notoriety of the fear street series, the style, and billing notable cast members. 

so yeh, i defo 100% appreciated the goode men from wealthy sunnyvale being revealed as the true villains. i actually got my wish of nick getting killed in the face. i love that sarah possessed deena to do it herself!!! and deena!! oh man, i love deena so much. she was wearing a homebrew vest to protect herself made of fear street novels + duct tape, u gotta love it. ig she wanted to prepare herself since sam stabbed her at the end of 1994. on that note, she’s v active in this film for someone who has a fresh abdominal stab wound and i mean, the situation defo calls for it, but i hope she remembered to properly dress it and take a couple ibuprofen or smth. shit, i’m gettin distracted again. okay!! 

i loved errything that went down in the mall. i adore that josh and adult ziggy got more time to shine. i was so! so! happy at martin’s inclusion on the action. he deserved that after the way nick treated him in 1994. our occupations are also p similar so i defo relate to martin on that front. i loved it all the neon and blacklight stuff at the mall. that part was v stylish, that was p cool. spraying the killers with the blood so they kill each other!! yes! that was perfect!! it was incredibly practical and enjoyable for me, as a gore fan, to watch. 

i liked the sticky note on the wall at the end from deena and josh’s dad, that he had a job interview. i wonder if this is bc the curse of shadyside has been lifted with the end of the goodes?? 

yk, i feel like now knowing what we know abt the actual evil, i gotta wonder how much re-watch value there is to be gleaned from this trilogy. for example, in 1978, nick liked ziggy and didn’t want her to die. he performed cpr on her even tho she’d been stabbed a fuck ton of times and tbvh, the chances of success of resuscitation depending on what exactly it is was ziggy succumbed to seem v slim. at first i attributed this to a suspension of disbelief bc this is fiction (and to be fair crazy do happen sometimes irl, ykw, sometimes reality can surprise u) BUT now i’m sittin here like...was the cpr successful bc nick’s deal with the devil gave him the power to do that?? did his bargaining of others’ souls and offering them up for possession grant him the ability to have some control in that situation somehow? at least more than a normal human being should?? idk. it’s a thought. 

what else, what else? 

i feel like outta the three, 1666 had the most tension overall. i was p gosh darn emo abt the relationships. deena and sam’s relationship i’ve cared abt since the beginning but the contrast of them getting the opportunity to have it and be together, in parallel to the way sarah and hannah’s ended just moves u. or, it moved me at least. sarah tells hannah they’ll go somewhere and kiss in broad daylight before kissing her in almost total darkness, and then the film ends on deena and sam kissing in the sun. i was also glad deena and josh’s sibling relationship got touched on a lil bit more. thought it was cute that she tried to cook for him and produced smth that just dead ass looks inedible. i also thought it was sweet that ziggy reunited with nurse lane. she can do that now, she can leave her house without fearing the return of the curse, and she deserves it. <3

i’m impressed with the trilogy overall. each movie easily could’ve been an r-rated goosebumps episode and imo all were certainly better than that. i feel like each film was better than the previous, but personally enjoyed each one. some things were p predictable but i think much of that is intentional. 1994 and 1978 were clearly paying homage to classic slashers and familiar horror tropes. i personally didn’t find the predictability off-putting bc i recognized what they were trying to do, and felt the quality in the other elements made up for it. i was genuinely shocked by the actual villain reveal, i personally didn’t predict that. again, i always thought sarah was going to be sympathetic and i never liked nick at all, but i didn’t suspect sarah was just. dead ass *not* going to be a villain or that he was going to be the big bad. 

really dug the style of these films. loved that we got an interracial lesbian couple who made it thru the trilogy without either the predatory lesbian trope or the byg trope happening. i liked most of the characters we got to know and the only character who *rly* grated on my nerves was the villain who got stabbed in the eye. 

gosh, i want more fear street movies!! if i had to pick one outta any of the slashers featured, i’d want to see ruby lane’s story. i would like to see this production team milking the most outta the environment in the 50s, the style of the 50s, music, and whatnot. i enjoyed nurse lane even tho she was super bad at murder, so it’d be cool to see her again and who she was before her daughter got possessed and killed 7 ppl. also, ruby sings when she kills?? 

that’s weird and creepy and neat. totally down for it. 

[kinogane]

Meditations on Playing as Earthlings in Dragon Ball Xenoverse, Part 2

(previously)

The Dragon Ball Xenoverse games allow you to play as five races: Earthling (the default selection), Saiyan, Majin, Namekian, and the elegantly named "Frieza Race", with the first three races having an additional choice of gender. Compared to the Dragon Ball games mentioned in the previous post, Xenoverse probably differentiates the most between race/gender combinations. Each has a drastically different basic moveset that will be extremely relevant in combat, especially for strike-oriented playstyles, each have different stat spreads (and sometimes mechanics) that incentivize different playstyles, and arguably most importantly, each have their own unique techniques, the centerpiece of which is the race-specific Awoken Skill.

For context, in the first Dragon Ball Xenoverse, there were two problems with transformation skills like Super Saiyan and Unlock Potential. First was that they counted as Super Attacks, so you would have to give up a skill slot to make use of them, and second was that the transformations available to your character consisted of Kaioken, Unlock Potential, and variants of Super Saiyan. So like past Dragon Ball games, you weren't especially rewarded for playing a non-Saiyan character, since it meant you had to run Unlock Potential (or run a gimmicky Kaioken build), while Saiyans could at least nominally choose between that, and multiple variants of Super Saiyan that suited their playstyle.

This was remedied in the second Xenoverse game with the addition of Awoken Skills, which were transformations that occupied a separate slot. More importantly, Xenoverse 2 also added race-specific Awoken Skills, which meant that there was actually a compelling reason to pick races besides Saiyans.

In theory, at least. In practice?

Frieza Race characters probably gained the most in the sequel. Their Awoken Skill, Turn Golden, is relatively straightforward, both from a gameplay standpoint and an aesthetic standpoint. Your ki blasts are stronger and you do the Golden Frieza thing. Much like the form in the series proper, it's a bit dull and uninspired as a body recolor, but it is identifiable as a powerful transformation.

Namekians gained the ability to Become Giant, hearkening back to King Piccolo in the original Dragon Ball (and I guess Lord Slug in the movies), which as I understand was a fun transformation to use before it got nerfed in subsequent patches. Currently, it's a neat gimmick that's fun to mess around with and can be effective in bursts, but the stamina drain means it can't see the extended use that just about every other Awoken Skill can.

Majin gained the wildly unpopular ability to undergo Purification, which translates into becoming a Kid Buu with a special moveset. A Kid Buu that, mind you, only changes its skin and eye color as appropriate; regardless of how you customized your character before the transformation, your Purified Majin is going to look basically the same as any other Purified Majin, which is kind of a problem in a game where a significant portion of the userbase's interest in the game is at least partially in coordinating outfits for their player characters.

Earthlings got to ride on a Flying Nimbus and use the Power Pole.

The race-specific Awoken Skill for Earthlings is riding around on a cloud that kinda already loses a lot of its luster when, by construction, all characters can fly, and wielding a weapon/tool that hasn't been relevant since the original Dragon Ball. It's a nostalgia play that basically no Earthling character is going to use extensively, since you can't use your own skills and are limited to a moveset that loses its visual and gameplay novelty in minutes, at most.

It should be mentioned that Saiyans, as of the time of this writing, have access to five variants of Super Saiyan.

(Caveat that I can't speak for the PvP side of these evaluations, and quite frankly, I couldn't be bothered since Xenoverse PvP seems thoroughly unappealing, but I digress.)

So yet again, even when concessions are explicitly made to make playing non-Saiyan races an appealing alternative from a gameplay standpoint, Saiyans are still the clear winners and Earthlings are still clear losers. Furthermore, there's at least an argument that the non-Earthling Awoken Skills at least invoke an image of power as understood in Dragon Ball. For all the shortcomings of the Namekian and Majin Awoken Skills, you can at least point to King Piccolo and Kid Buu as signifiers of strength. If anything, the image of Goku on the Nimbus with the Power Pole is reminiscent of a time when Dragon Ball was significantly less concerned with displays of power, which is kind of counterintuitive when it's invoked as a method of attaining greater power.

Put reductively, it's kind of a bummer, but then again, isn’t this dynamic, of Saiyans being given the lion's share of power and relevance while Earthlings get virtually none, the most Dragon Ball shit ever?

Hindsight has only made Videl's presence in the early parts of the Buu Saga all the more fascinating. For that run of episodes, all the way up to the World Martial Arts Tournament, the degree to which Videl is an active participant and outright combatant in the action is kind of surreal. It's not entirely without precedent, since Chi-Chi had her moments in the original Dragon Ball and the occasional moment in Z, but unlike Chi-Chi, it really does seem like Videl's perfectly content to be this active for as long as she's around. What's more, the show explicitly makes reference to her being wildly more powerful than her dad, who himself is established as of legitimate world champion caliber, and it even goes out of its way to have Gohan teach her to fly. While that scene is absolutely primarily meant to set up her true purpose in the series writ large, there's a pretty good correlation in Dragon Ball between "people who can fly" and "people who can at least fight a little".

Then, of course, Spopovich happens.

I'm not particularly interested in litigating post-crisis Videl here, since it's been discussed plenty, and yeah, I also think it's more than a little bit of a bummer. But knowing the trajectory of post-Z Dragon Ball, especially Super, it makes Videl's irrelevance on an action level kind of an inevitability? Like, yeah, maybe if she bounced back harder and played a larger role after the Spopovich fight, you maaaaaaaaaaaaaaybe could draw a line to her at least being comparable to the likes of Krillin, Tien, and Yamcha, but given the reality of modern Dragon Ball, would that be anything more than a pyrrhic victory?

So really, when you consider that the frankly ridiculous power scaling of Super is really just the logical extension of the scaling in Z that was already well underway by the Buu Saga, it naturally raises the question of why they bothered to even make Videl this much of an active force in the first place. From square one, she's arguably destined to be relegated to Gohan's love interest and future wife, so why go through the effort of showing the audience that she's stronger than every Earthling that's not a Z-Fighter? It does parallel Chi-Chi's strength in Dragon Ball to help further foreshadow her pairing with Gohan like Chi-Chi with Goku, but then why make her be that into fighting when Chi-Chi was always clearly content to be a housewife?

And like, Jesus Christ, all that only to be that definitive with that Spopovich fight?

I bring Videl up because my main created character in Xenoverse 2 is a female Earthling. Ever since I booted the game for the first time, there was no doubt in my mind that I was going to primarily play as a female Earthling, because with it came the knowledge that I was going to control a female Earthling doing and achieving some frankly wild shit, like going toe-to-toe with Final Form Mira, literal deities, Jiren, and Ultra Instinct Goku(?!?), sometimes back-to-back in certain Parallel Quests.

And of course I can, because that is the entire reason for the Xenoverse games' existence. The game has always been an unabashed power fantasy all about defeating some of the most powerful entities in Dragon Ball history with your own created character on your own terms.

And yet, as I do all of this with my female Earthling, the knowledge that in canon, the most powerful analogue to my character is Videl, a character who almost literally gets the relevance beaten out of her in a brutal and unforgettable manner, makes the experience feel almost rebellious. It feels like everything from the godawful Awoken Skill to the subpar race/gender stat distribution for a strike-oriented build to the very nature and history of Dragon Ball itself is working against my character becoming a ludicrously powerful force of nature, and yet I not only can, but literally must push through and go even further beyond.

I cannot emphasize enough that this sense of transgression has no basis at all when it comes to the game. Absolutely nothing about the Xenoverse games explicitly suggests that Earthlings, female or otherwise, are somehow destined to be strictly lesser than Saiyans or any other races. Again, the game is an unabashed power fantasy; it's going to let you achieve that power fantasy regardless of race or gender, because to do so otherwise is completely antithetical to the entire reason people play the game in the first place.

But looking at past Dragon Ball games, at least to me, makes clear that they really didn't have to include the option to play as an Earthling. They clearly feel no obligation to do so, since they've excluded it in previous games. They completely dodge the need to include a human-like race option with the existence of Saiyans, who aren't even differentiated by the presence of a tail. I genuinely don't think any significant number of people would have even batted an eye over the exclusion of Earthlings. ‘Cause, you know, it's Dragon Ball, why would you play as an Earthling?

But they did. They let you choose to play as an Earthling, a race that Dragon Ball has essentially been drilling into your head, for years, is a strictly less powerful and less interesting version of Saiyans with practically no upside. They gave you the option, and I took it, all because it effectively let me play out an extended Videl what-if by proxy and stretch credibility into complete, unrecognizable nonsense.

I recognize that this absolutely reflects more on me and my relationship with Dragon Ball as a whole than it does on Xenoverse, but when it’s the only Dragon Ball game that embraces customizable characters to the extent that it does, it’s necessarily going to be the only game that actually lets me grapple with that tension between the source and the spin-off, and reckon with how that can shape the audience’s experience and perception of the bigger picture.

[diazboys]

love, don’t let me go | 2.2k words | buddie | established relationship, emotional hurt/comfort, fluff | ao3

written for Eddie Diaz Week 2021 | Day 4: “I don’t deserve this.” + guilt

.

The firehouse is silent. They’re halfway through a 24-hour shift but it’s been rather calm. Not many calls, only a small house fire, a guy locking himself inside his own car and a fender bender. Eddie doesn't like it. Not the city being relatively good and safe, of course, but the calm. The silence that engulfs the station is driving him mad. It gives him too much time to think and Eddie doesn’t like the kind of thoughts that are swarming his head lately.

For a moment he considers heading to the bunk room but he quickly dismisses it. He won’t be able to sleep anyway and he doesn’t want to disturb anyone. A while ago he sent Buck there so he could get some rest. They were lounging on the couch, watching some late-night history documentary with a crazy amount of conspiracy theories in it. It didn’t take long for Buck to start drifting off. His head slid down Eddie’s shoulder, arms getting looser around his waist. Knowing that if he fell asleep like this, he’d be all stiff and cranky later, Eddie nudged him awake and sent him to bed. He had to promise he’d join and get some rest himself before Buck finally agreed to go, pressing a kiss to Eddie’s lips and walking away with a loud yawn. Eddie intended to keep the promise but… not now.

With a sigh, Eddie gets up from the couch, not even realising that the documentary has ended a while ago. Trying to find himself something to do, he wanders around the empty loft. He opens the fridge, even though he’s not hungry. He empties the dishwasher as quietly as he can and then loads the remaining dirty plates inside. He wipes the counters. Then he puts the notes Hen left on the table into a neat pile, mindful that all the sticky notes stay in their places. Seeing that there’s not much to do here anymore, he considers going downstairs. Maybe he could exercise for a bit. It should do the trick to help clear his mind and maybe tire him enough so he can get some sleep.

Eddie drags his hand across his face in a frustrated gesture. Before he can do anything, he hears a voice coming from behind.

“You okay, Eddie?”

Taking a slow breath, Eddie turns around to face Bobby. He hopes that his face doesn’t show too many of the emotions rumbling in his head. It’s a futile hope, according to Buck. He always makes fun of Eddie for having the most expressive face he’s ever seen. The thought almost puts a smile on Eddie’s face.

“Yeah, I’m good, Cap,” Eddie says.

Bobby’s watchful eyes don’t leave Eddie but there’s worry written all over his face when he asks, “You sure? You seem a bit… restless. And you’ve been a bit distant for the past few days.”

Eddie sighs. It’s true. He just hoped he could deal with it quickly enough so that nobody would point it out. When they’re on a call, Eddie always stays focused on the job, but when they’re all just hanging around Eddie gets too caught up in his own head to laugh at the jokes or bite back at the mocking. Buck has been bugging him about it every day, because of course he realised. He was the first one to. But how can Eddie tell him when it’s all Buck’s fault?

No, he corrects himself. It’s not Buck’s fault. He has done absolutely nothing wrong and Eddie doesn’t have the right to look at it that way. Everything that is happening, is because of him.

“No, it’s—,” Eddie starts, trying to clear his head. “Just a bit tired. Got some things on my mind. That’s all.”

Not looking entirely convinced, Bobby nods and slowly moves closer to the table. Eddie’s fingers are wrapped around the back of the chair in front of him but he doesn’t sit when Bobby does so across from him. But he doesn’t run away, either.

“Something’s up with Christopher?” Bobby prods gently and when Eddie shakes his head, he carefully adds, “With Buck?”

Eddie clenches his jaw. It’s just a small gesture, but Bobby still notices. “You guys had a fight?”

“No, it’s not—,” Eddie says and feels very tired all of sudden. The legs scrape loudly against the floor as Eddie pulls at the chair and drops down on it. “It’s great. Buck’s great. I’m— really happy with him.”

“But?”

“But that’s the problem,” Eddie shakes his head with a sad smile. “I’m not sure if we should— If I should— Maybe it wasn’t a good idea.”

A non-committal hum leaves Bobby’s mouth as he waits for Eddie to continue. When he doesn’t, Bobby asks, “Why? He makes you happy. I can clearly see that you make him happy. And you’ve mentioned that Christopher took it more than well. So what happened?”

Eddie bites at his upper lip, trying to gather his thoughts and keep his emotions at bay. It wasn’t the kind of conversation he wanted to have right now. Or ever, probably. But Bobby was looking at him with this soft, worried look and Eddie felt like maybe it could lessen the knot that has been slowly tightening in his stomach for weeks. Maybe from the very moment he first kissed Buck, in the dim light of his own living room when they were watching some stupid cartoon, Buck’s eyes bright and happy as he looked down at Christopher, asleep and curled tightly against Buck’s side. It didn’t change that much between them, the kiss. But at the same time, it changed everything and Eddie felt like he was standing on top of a mountain. He wanted to admire the beautiful view but kept his eyes firmly on the ground, to make sure he won’t trip and fall into the precipice.

“Nothing. Not yet, at least,” Eddie says and then words start falling out of his mouth before he can stop them. “But Shannon made me happy, too. And she was happy with me. Before I messed it all up and ran away and she left because she didn’t know what else to do. There are so many things,” Eddie says slowly through gritted teeth, “that I’ve messed up in my life. I can’t mess this up. I can’t lose Buck.”

“Who said you’re gonna lose him?”

“I’ve been a bad son, a horrible father and even worse husband. I’ve done so many things that I regret now but can’t fix. Why would I be a good boyfriend to Buck?” Eddie looks at Bobby but quickly averts his gaze as he feels his eyes burning. “And Buck is— He’s good. He loves Christopher endlessly and Christopher loves him just as much. He’s so caring and thoughtful and there’s still so much kindness in him. I admire him and I can’t believe he— He’s always there to catch me when I need it and he’s— He’s everything. And I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve him.”

If Eddie wasn’t trying so hard to keep himself together, he would probably feel embarrassed for laying his heart out for his captain like this. He wasn’t one for speeches or talking about feelings. But he knew Bobby would understand. Bobby knew Buck. Bobby, who was more of a father to Buck that his real father was, knew that Buck was a good person, one of the best. He knew that he deserved everything good from the world. And Eddie couldn’t give him that.

“Eddie,” Bobby’s voice is soft when he leans across the table, trying to catch Eddie’s eyes. He doesn’t continue, so eventually Eddie looks up at him. “You’re a good person. You’re so much more than the mistakes you’ve made in the past. They don’t define who you are. You’ve made a choice. A conscious choice to change, to try again, to keep going, and you’ve done all the hard work and put in effort to do this. And that’s what matters. You deserve to be happy, Eddie.”

Looking away, Eddie shakes his head and bites the inside of his cheek. “But what if it doesn’t work out? Again? I don’t know what I’d do without him. And I was perfectly happy with being just his friend. So maybe we should just… try to fix it and go back to where we were before it’s too late. Maybe we should—” he stops, not able to voice the thought that has been haunting him for the past week.

“There’s no reason for fixing something that’s not broken, Eddie,” Bobby says. “I’m pretty sure Buck doesn’t want to lose you, either. You mean too much to each other to just give up. No matter what life throws your way, I know you two can figure it out. You said you regretted running away before. So don’t. Stay and let yourself be happy. You can’t base your life on what if’s.”

It all makes sense. Eddie knows it does but it’s so hard to believe sometimes. There’s no doubt about his feelings for Buck. He has been in love with him before he even knew how to call the sense of warmth and peace that overtook him every time Buck was around. And he hasn’t doubted Buck’s feelings for a second, either. And Eddie knows that there’s nothing in the world that would make him happier than going through life with Buck by his side, than making a place for him in Eddie’s family. As if he wasn’t part of it the second he appeared in his and Christopher’s life. The fear that’s been looming over his head, the guilt that’s been haunting him didn’t let him see all of this.

“You deserve every good thing in your life. Even when it’s hard to accept it. Especially if it is.” Bobby’s hand is heavy when it lands on Eddie’s shoulder, giving him a comforting squeeze.

Eddie only nods, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. He hopes that Bobby can see the gratefulness he wants to express. And judging by the warm smile on his captain’s face, he can.

“...Eddie?”

They both look up, startled by the noise. Buck is standing at the top of the stairs, hesitant. His hair is mussed from sleep and he looks between the two of them with a worried expression.

Turning back to Eddie, Bobby gives his shoulder one more squeeze and after getting a shaky smile in response, he gets up. On his way downstairs, he passes Buck, giving him a pat on the shoulder and a smile and then he’s gone. For a moment, Buck just stands there, looking after Bobby with a confused frown. Then he unfreezes and rushes towards Eddie.

“Eddie, are you—,” Buck starts, pulling up a chair for himself and he sits, turning his whole body towards Eddie. “Is everything okay?”

Eddie nods, trying to smile and stop the tears at the same time. They are not the same, miserable tears that welled up in his eyes not-so-long ago. They are happy tears because Eddie is the happiest man alive. But Buck doesn’t know this. And so the worried wrinkle on his forehead only deepens as he leans closer to Eddie, taking his hand into his.

“But you’re— Did something happen? I’m freaking out, Eds, just talk to me, please.”

Instead of doing that, Eddie just laughs wetly and leans forward to press a soft kiss to Buck’s lips.

“Everything is great, I promise,” Eddie says, smiling. His hands cup Buck’s face as he kisses him again. “You make me so happy, Buck. I love you so much.”

“And… that’s what you’ve been talking with Bobby about?” Buck raises an eyebrow and the worry is slowly replaced by a small smile.

“Basically,” Eddie chuckles. “I just needed some sense talked into me.”

Buck hums, clearly curious but he doesn’t ask. “Well, Bobby’s good at that. And I’m happy with the conclusions you guys have made. I love you too, in case you were wondering.”

God, Eddie can’t believe he considered leaving this wonderful man, considered walking out of the best thing in his life. It feels so stupid now.

“You couldn’t sleep?” Eddie asks, brushing his thumb across Buck’s cheek.

“I know you lied and didn’t intend to get any rest unless I dragged you downstairs,” Buck raises an eyebrow at him.

Eddie makes a shocked face, “Did I ever lie to you? Name one time I lied to you.”

“You said you liked the casserole I made last week and I saw you giving half of your serving to Christopher,” Buck points out.

“Green beans, Buck! You know I don’t like green beans!”

When Buck shakes his head at him, the fondness and love written all over his face as he leans for another kiss, Eddie feels the knot in his stomach disappearing completely. Finally, he can see that this happiness is not something he should or could ever leave behind. He still has his fears and worries, they won't just disappear like that. But if there's one thing that he and Buck know is that you have to fight for the things you love. No matter how hard it might be. And this thing they have is way too important to give up on. 

[a-secret-bolton-vampire]

Brief Thought on Theon in TWOW

Theon has been a huge mystery for me and a lot of people, because his story could go just about anywhere. He's currently held prisoner by Stannis, who plans on executing him (after interrogating him, of course). Although he is to be executed by fire, Asha comes in to tell Stannis to instead execute Theon himself with Lightbringer at the weirwood islet, all the while the caged ravens scream "Theon" and "tree"... hello Bran, hello Bloodraven.

Now, the fact the ravens are screaming about the tree and Asha mentions executing Theon at the tree to me is a clear indication that it is going to be an important location. Now, I don't quite think Theon is gonna die here (see below), but rather Bran is going to find a way to keep him around. He already called to Theon when Theon went to beg absolution in the Winterfell godswood. Summon some ravens to interrupt the execution, maybe even appear in the tree like he did to Theon at Winterfell.

Such a display from the old gods might make the northmen think it is a sign that Theon has paid for his sins. Stannis might not really care, although... if you get a sign like that, I'm not entirely sure what Stannis would think. Regardless, I think Theon is going to survive, and Bran wants him to. Why? Well, I don't actually think Bran is manipulating Theon here. It's been months at this point since we've had a Bran POV, and who knows what he's been doing this whole time. However, if he has been focused on Winterfell, he probably has seen Theon being tormented by Ramsay.

Theon betrayed the Starks. He took Winterfell. He killed two boys and passed them off as Bran and Rickon. He is a traitor and a turncloak and a murderer. But seeing Theon in this light might change Bran's perspective on him. He's suffered so much. He may have deserved execution for his crimes, but the torture he endured from Ramsay was not justice.

At the end of ADWD/beginning of TWOW, Theon is pretty resigned to dying. He wants to die, and he feels immense guilt for what he did. Bran is tapping into the power of the old gods and communicates to a broken Theon at Winterfell. Even though Theon has prayed to the old gods (really praying to Bran) and gotten some sort of reply, he doesn't know what it means. If Bran stays Theon's execution, that's a huge change for Theon. He believes he deserves to die for what he did.

If the old gods show some sort of presence that stops Theon from being killed, that changes everything for him. If the gods don't want him to die, what is his purpose now? What reason is there for him to be around? Does he truly deserve to be killed? Can he redeem himself? Part of the reason why I don't believe Theon is going to be executed here is because I think there is much more rich narrative and thematic depth to explore than him simply resigning to his fate and getting it.

As for what he will do in TWOW, apart from the theories that he simply just dies, some people also believe he might stay Stannis's prisoner, or be used by Asha to undo the kingsmoot on the Iron Islands. The latter theory is based on the mention of Torgon the Latecomer, by Rodrik Harlaw and later Tristifer Botely.

"When you put your name before the captains you submitted yourself to their judgment. You cannot go against that judgment now. Only once has the choice of a kingsmoot been overthrown. Read Haereg."

Archmaester Haereg wrote History of the Ironborn. And what was this one time the kingsmoot was overthrown? Well, Tris explains it the very chapter Asha has this memory of Rodrik.

"Torgon Greyiron was the king's eldest son. But the king was old and Torgon restless, so it happened that when his father died he was raiding along the Mander from his stronghold on Greyshield. His brothers sent no word to him but instead quickly called a kingsmoot, thinking that one of them would be chosen to wear the driftwood crown. But the captains and the kings chose Urragon Goodbrother to rule instead. The first thing the new king did was command that all the sons of the old king be put to death, and so they were. After that men called him Badbrother, though in truth they'd been no kin of his. He ruled for almost two years." Asha remembered now. "Torgon came home …" "… and said the kingsmoot was unlawful since he had not been there to make his claim. Badbrother had proved to be as mean as he was cruel and had few friends left upon the isles. The priests denounced him, the lords rose against him, and his own captains hacked him into pieces. Torgon the Latecomer became the king and ruled for forty years."

This is often used as evidence that Asha will use Theon in a similar manner; since he was presumed dead but is actually still alive, he did not put his claim forth, and thus the kingsmoot is invalid, as is Euron's ascension to the Seastone Chair. Theon the Latecomer will be Euron's undoing. While Theon is in no fit enough state to even be considered king, perhaps his presence will be enough to assuage Euron's control on the Iron Isles.

I think that the fact this is mentioned is important, and something like this might happen. Personally, I think that when the battle of ice turned against Stannis's favour, Theon escaped with the help of Asha and her supporters, and they grouped together at Torrhen's Square, which is held currently by Dagmer Cleftjaw, master-at-arms at Pyke, whom Theon had a close relationship with. And the idea will be to use Theon as a tool to invalidate the kingsmoot and Euron's role. Also, it would be very neat to see Theon reunite with Dagmer after all he's been through, since Dagmer was an important figure in his childhood.

The problem is that I don't think Theon Latecomer is going to change anything. For one, although he doesn't need to be king, just be used as a way to invalidate the kingsmoot because he never pressed his claim, what is that going to change? Is Theon really going to press his claim? And if he did, he would be laughed out. He has no interest in kingship, and he is not in any state to rule as one. So he's definitely not going to be elected. Who does that leave?

Well, Victarion is away in Meereen. Asha might have supporters but her gender works against her. Perhaps old Erik Ironmaker might try his hand again, but I doubt that will work any better. Aeron is supposedly in hiding (although really he's being tortured by Euron). Gylbert Farwynd wanted to sail beyond the Sunset Sea and see what lands lie west of Westeros.

Meanwhile, Euron is bringing the Old Way back to the ironborn in a way Balon never accomplished. He took the Shields and gave lordships to the raiders there. He has been sending ships up and down the Mander, in the Whispering Sound, even sacking the Arbor. He is giving the ironborn a great deal of wealth. What's even more, it appears that some of the things he wouldn't have dared before are a lot safer to do now. For instance, at the kingsmoot, he put on his facade as doing everything for the Drowned God. Now look at how his captains talk about the Drowned God in The Forsaken:

"Your curses have no power here, priest,” said Left-Hand Lucas Codd. “The Crow’s Eye has fed your Drowned God well, and he has grown fast with sacrifice. Words are wind, but blood is power. We have given thousands to the sea, and he has given us victories!”

It's not "the Drowned God" but "your Drowned God". They don't care anymore. They don't care if it's different or against their traditions. Euron has been giving them victories and riches and glory, and that's all that matters. This is something that is easy to see in the real world too (just look at what Donald Trump did in office and how the GOP reacted to his actions). Euron has taken the bulk of the Iron Islands military strength with him, and is living up to what he's promised so far. Why would they want to go back?

However, the most important part, for me anyways, is that ultimately, Euron doesn't care. He doesn't care about the Iron Isles. His goal is Westeros and the Iron Throne. The islands mean nothing to him. He loses some people there, so what? What's there for him to use? He's gonna try to become a god-king anyways so the Iron Islands aren't important.

In the end, even if Asha wanted to use Theon for these purposes, it won't do anything. The ironborn are in southern Westeros having the time of their lives, why would they return here? Now, if this is doomed to do anything against Euron, then why mention Torgon? Why have Theon go through that? I think it's all part of his internal journey of identity and allegiance.

He's always been stuck between Greyjoy and Stark. He didn't feel like he belonged with the Starks, but he wanted to. When Balon rebelled against Robb and insulted him, Theon wanted to prove himself to his father, so he betrayed the Starks. He was outsmarted and captured by Ramsay, however, and now regrets doing what he did. But he still hasn't chosen, Greyjoy or Stark. He wants to simply die.

I think that this journey for him is him recovering from Ramsay and finally finding his true self again. Theon has been a puppet of Ramsay's, and is poised to become a puppet for Asha and her followers. It's time he start to make his own decisions. I think this journey as Theon Latecomer (whether he literally returns to the isles or not) is him dealing with his own internal struggle, before finally resolving it. My theory is that he will decide to choose the Starks, because they are his true family, and there is nothing for him that he wants or can do with the Greyjoys.

[thankskenpenders]

Any speculation as to who the hooded guy that beat up Shadow was in the new comic?

I talked about this with a buddy the other night and I am so confident in my answer being correct that I’m going to put it under a read more as spoilers

(I apologize if this is a theory that’s already been widely accepted, I don’t really follow fan discussions about the IDW comics.)

Short answer: it’s Starline. And if it’s not, they’re putting a ton of effort into making him a red herring. My reasoning:

If it was a new character then I don’t think Rouge would’ve recognized them. That line teases readers to wonder who it is, and it’d be weird if the answer was one we had no way of knowing. I also think the silhouette wouldn’t have been obscured so much if it was someone we wouldn’t recognize

The character’s height and their heeled boots seem to match Starline best

Ian’s said that the Bad Guys miniseries is the opening chapter of this new season of comics and that it takes place before Evan’s current arc. This makes me believe there’s some sort of connection there that requires that story to happen first

The hooded figure seems to have a Sonic Heroes-based ability we haven’t seen before. When they glow blue they’re fast. When they glow red they’re strong. When they glow yellow they can jump super high

Here’s the kicker: Ian’s said on his podcast that Starline was originally inspired by a game element, but this was toned down and the actual reveal of that aspect of his character was delayed. I think we’re seeing that now. I think this was always supposed to be his power

Without the Warp Topaz, Starline needs a new ability. The hypnosis thing he’s got going right now in Bad Guys is neat, but I doubt that’s going to be his main power forever. I believe he’s going to acquire this new set of powers in the Bad Guys series. If I had to guess, he’s going to have a falling out with his new allies (definitely Zavok at the very least), decide that he can’t rely on others, and turn himself into a one-man team

Therefore, the cloak would be there to hide the fact that Starline is getting these new powers. It allows him to do stuff in Evan’s arc while also avoiding spoiling the concurrently releasing Bad Guys storyline

And the pièce de résistance? The Bad Guys logo looks like this

If all this is true then I’ve gotta say, this is some really clever foreshadowing

[voidcat]

– a case of bad luck

3. making a scene

m.list ; prev ; next ; wc: 2.7k

a/n: rmr when i said i'd not post a chapter befre writing at least one chapter ahead? ahahaha anyways,,, here's wonderwall. song name mentioned at the end of the chapter!!

He doesn’t show his face for the next few days.

The feeling of being watched goes away with him, despite knowing it’ll be over shortly.

Finding things to occupy your mind starts off easier than you thought, no one bats an eye to it either. Slowly rumors start to spread about the boy who hasn’t shown his face in weeks.

Exes complain and bad mouth, friends stick around and make excuses, some believe he ran off to chase a dream or start a new life; a theory from each head, all speculating, not even close to the truth of it.

Then comes the news reports, a close friend must’ve heard from the cops, body found dead, covered in bruises. ‘They say he was in the wrong place at the wrong time, crossed an alley too narrow at a time too late.’ Nobody speaks of the bodies found with him, someone must’ve messed with the crime scene.

“So, how are things going with him?” a voice from your right snaps your attention.

What?.. You stare at your friend, then realize she must mean Dazai.

“Not much. He’s still in town, we hang out sometimes.” The lie slips off smoothly yet they seem disappointed at your answer. Then remembering what he claims to have said to them, it makes sense in a way, although a dumb way it is.

“Do you think he was murdered?” “What could he have done to die a brutal way?” they join the flock of gossipers. Nothing new or exciting to do recently, taking a guess has become the new sport, as if a correct guess could earn them something of a meaning.

You close your ears to the same whispers of different voices and try focusing on what’s at hand. Maybe you should remember what it is for first.

The dreaded feeling comes back after few more days and with it, so does he.

Waiting in the same spot just like the last time, another suspicious smile decorating his face, accompanied by fresh bandages. Rolling your eyes at the sight of him, you look for a means to escape, even just for one more day but your friends spot him short after, wave their hands at him and push you to his direction.

Lovely.

A cloying voice to match that smile, he greets you first. “Hello darling-“ “Don’t call me that.” You cut in. He pays no mind.

Like last time, the two of you begin to walk, ignoring the curious looks of your friends focused on your back. “Have you thought about my offer recently?”

“Honestly? I forgot.” You expect a raised eyebrow or a glance thrown your way at the very least. “I have a life of my own, you know.” He shows no sign of emotions or annoyance.

“And so do they.” He shrugs and looks at the each store window you walk by. It’s the air within him, that rubs you the wrong way, you decide. The way he talks as if he is discussing over what to eat for breakfast when it’s lives, living breathing lives you’ve spent your whole life with that he threatens.

Exactly how many times has he done that to not care at all?

Another answer- no, a possibility, an explanation to this lies in your mind and you brush it off –or try to do so. It’s cruel, maybe not exactly but such an idea shouldn’t come to your mind so easily, no matter how… logical it sounds to be.

“What do you want me to do? What do you expect me to say? Just blindly agree?” your steps begin to get louder, more pressure applied to each one you take.

Then his voice rises, a stretched out ‘ah’comes first, “Bella, you’re making a scene,” he makes a move to drape an arm over your shoulder as you take a step forward to escape it. “-especially when you don’t even have the slightest clue what I’m asking for.” And comes back the empty tone of voice with his last words.

Few steps ahead there’s a turn you can take. You wonder if he will stop when you part ways, will he wait, walk after you to grab your arm and make you follow him again? Another voice tells you instead he will keep walking ahead, not even sparing a glance your way, already aware you’ll fall defeated to fear or curiosity only to trail after him again.

But still, the possibilities are still worth the risk, no matter how true he is to his threats, it’s better than to walk into an alley with him again.

People around walk on and continue their lives, out to enjoy the sun or to hang out after their not-so-busy lives. You don’t cross the street at the lights like you did the last time.

From the corner of your eye you peak at him but the bandages cover a good portion of his face, not that he is loose with his expressions and mimics. You focus on the walk again.

“Whatever it is, it must be something dirty, or risky, considering you’re threatening me into this.”

“Now now, don’t flatter yourself just because you have an ability. It isn’t anything big, just a small chore I don’t want to deal with.”

“From the way you talk, the list can go from taking the trash out to murder y’know…” To this, he just lets out a dry laugh. You’re unsure if it’s a good thing or not that he doesn’t even deny it.

The scenery around begins to change slowly, store by store, people by people. Maybe this is a good time to take a turn right or back, before ending up in a part of town who knows where. Nearby you spot a pot of flowers and stop as you reach it. A checkpoint, of sorts. It used be enjoyable at least, to have little checkpoints of your own on paths you took daily, on streets you weren’t familiar with. Stores, a pavement stone sticking out, a cat that sleeps in the same place all day, all to yourself, –as if a checkpoint could actually serve you as if life is a video game.

As you stop, he does too. “That’s fair.” He shrugs, “but it’s nothing big. I just want you to capture this guy by the end of tonight.”

Narrowing your eyes, you observe his face, “why, is the mighty Dazai incapable of such a simple task or does he carry an infectious disease of sorts?”

“Neither,” crossing his arms behind, he rests his head. “I just don’t feel like doing it.” Unbelievable.

It’s your turn to cross your arms this time, take a step back and balance your weight, just to say alert. “So let’s say that I agreed to this, will you get off my neck? Even if it fails?”

“Ah, bella, failure isn’t an option in your case.” You wince at nickname, again, and positive why he avoided the first question. Like it or not, getting involved in even the tiniest task would link you to the mafia somehow, an accomplice, even if he says he will leave you, there’s no guarantee someone else won’t show up. And this time with a better excuse to use, that’ll get worse for you if the said person is tortured or murdered.

“Okay, I… have a song in mind but-“ you look around and down and around and at his face again, he seems to be waiting for you to finish whatever it is you’ll say. Straightening up, you speak the next words with more confidence, no matter what, showing any signs of weakness or submission is not an option. “-even if this whole ability thing is real, I doubt it will work unless it’s night time.”

He waits there for a moment, looking more like he dozed off then considering what you’ve just said. “Alright!” he claps his hands in front of him suddenly, “I’ll be waiting by the door around 8. Don’t make me wait.” “wait!-“

Coat wavering in the air, he turns and continues walking the direction you two were following.

Your ‘How the hell am I supposed to find an excuse to get out at 8?’ waits on the tip of your tongue, his shrinking form looking more and more punchable with each passing second. Waiting a little longer to make sure he’s gone, though it isn’t important since he made it clear he knows where you reside, you begin to walk back home.

Now each word spoken, his gestures, moves and his voice start to come back at you one by one. Want it or not, you did agree to become an associate to them, even if it’s a weak link. A disposable one, easy to trace, not important enough to protect. Taking one arm off, you hold your bag in front and search for your earphones.

If you’re really going to do this, that ability thing better be working. Typing in the song title and you click play, putting it on repeat, that might help get you in the mood at least.

A dinner like any other evening, occasional chitchat mixed with the clanking of cutlery. Your cat peaks from the door frame and goes back into the living room, leaving the three of you alone. Few nods here and there, hums instead of ‘yes’ and ‘no’s.

You consider if you should try to sneak out or make up a lie to go out, though there’s no guarantee on the latter that they’ll allow. That is, until you see alcohol in the mix and stay silent, then offer once to refill their glasses and refuse “No thank you, it’s a school night after all.”

Pleased with your reply, their attention is back on talk about their day, few complaints here and there, and soon after they grow tired. Dimming the lights and burning an incense stick in a far corner of a room helps to set the mood.

“You seem tired father, why don’t you go to bed earlier tonight?” he doesn’t even loom up from his cigarette but the heavy eye lids suggest he is keen on the idea.

“Mother, didn’t you say you have an early meeting tomorrow? It’s better to sleep now and review the papers in the morning than to stay up all night.” If she suspects your sudden interest in her schedule, she doesn’t make a comment. And always being the first one to go to bed, she puts the documents into a neat pile and gets up first.

You wait for the sounds to come to an end and glance at the nearest clock. 8.05, not bad. Who is he to complain when he didn’t even bother to ask if it works for you anyway?

Tiptoing to the door and grabbing the keys, you ignore your cat’s curious gaze and grab your shoes.

Like he said, he waits 20 meters from your house.

“Ready?” he offers his arm, which you ignore.

Putting on your earphones and pressing play, you let out a breath. “Just lead the way.”

With music in your ears, the journey there goes faster.

At first you lend an ear to Dazai, seeing his mouth move, but once it’s clear he’s just babbling about some random thing, you let your focus loose and allow the tune to surround you.

Losing count on how many times the song replayed, you eye Dazai, waiting for a word on at least what you’ll do.

And as if on cue, he stops whatever nonsense he was sputtering and that tone comes out of his mouth again. You make a mental note to control your body language better in the future.

“It’s just one man, slightly taller than me, built in but not very bright. He should be easy to spot in the next turn to the left, I doubt he got company.”

Turning the volume down, you slow your steps to match his pace. “So he is just… there? Why would he even walk into a trap?”

“Oh he isn’t! But he will arrive in-“ he pulls out his phone to check the time, “-in half an hour.” as his voice starts to get more excited, not genuine like a kid’s, but fake, you get a bad feeling in his intentions –worse than before.

“What if it doesn’t work and I cannot use my ability?” you ask and immediately regret upon seeing a smile on him, as if he was waiting, –who are you kidding, of course he was waiting! “Well that sounds like a you problem, doesn’t it?” he says with a shrug.

“Good luck! I’ll be back in an hour!” he turns around and walk into a shadowed corner before you can run after him.

Eyes fixed on where he was standing a while ago, with that smile on his lips, you mutter to yourself, “What the hell…”, and turn the volume back up.

In the remaining minutes to his arrival, you’ve taken off your earphones, humming to yourself and waiting by the corner.

By the time he arrives, you watch him look around for a minute then walk into the alley with ease.

“Hello, sir! If you’re not busy at the moment, can I borrow 5 minutes of your time?” Adding a sweetness to your voice isn’t hard but he seems vary of you.

Who wouldn’t be? In the dead of the night, a high schooler appearing in an alley when they’re supposed to have a meeting.

“Oh please, it’s nothing big. You see, I’ll be auditioning for a band and I’m waiting for my friend before we go in.” You wave your hand like it’s nothing. “And though I know I’m somewhat decent, I need actual criticism from someone who won’t sugarcoat it for me. Would you like to hear me sing?”

He doesn’t look impressed, nor does he look like he wants to deal with a brat. But twisting his lips once and looking around for a sign of arrival, it’s clear he prefers to hear you once and get rid of you for good.

“Okay and before we begin, if you understand the lyrics, please don’t get any ideas. The actual theme and story of the song lies in the verse.” You flash a smile when he raises an eyebrow, maybe it was a stupid thing to say, it’s not like everyone can understand a song in a foreign language on first listen, even if they know the language.

Pulling out your phone, you press play, keeping rhythm to the beat with your foot and drum your fingers to your leg.

“I am not, I am not, I am not, I'm alive, live-” you begin singing and close your eyes for a brief moment.

Perhaps you should’ve picked a… more convenient song, instead of spending your day til dinner listening to this.

But would another one be as interesting as this to witness? It’s a hard no, of course not.

Yet this doesn’t help silence the creaking sounds from earlier leave your head. And now those mixed with the song itself, sends a shiver. Would that happen to me if I sang it in a moment of weakness?

You wait with your back to the cold wall, check the time again and like clockwork, faint footsteps reach your ears.

It’s Dazai’s face to show itself first, peaking from the street opening like your cat did today during dinner. He spots you, and him, and his expression changes suddenly.

Unsure what he thinks of this, you decide don’t want to learn it, or any other expression of his now that you’re at it. Decoding him means knowing him, to an extent, and this also means spending time with him, getting closer to him. None of which you’re eager to participate in.

As he opens his mouth to say something, you push yourself off the wall and take a step to your right to avoid colliding.

“There. I’m going home.”

Steps long and fast, you leave immediately, putting as much distance as possible. Hands into fists, moving in sync with your legs and your gaze focused ahead. It seems trip back home will go faster than it was to get here. You ignore for the night how easily you could turn your back to him and just walk.

song: Crows - Rest in Bigger Pieces Remix by Car Seat Headrest

yep, thats the full name. if u listen to it, it'll make it easier, but if u dont, here's a brief summary:

the song is written for one of will's friends, cate wurtz (for one of her webcomics) the main theme of the song and the webcomic is in the verse but lyrics beside it are references to having sex at a park at night, hence the reader telling "dont get any ideas"

[honey-dewey]

Patient Zero

Chapter Four

Pairing: Din Djarin/Imperial Reader

Word Count: 2,885

Warnings: No big ones, mention of blood draws.

Permanent Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell

Working with the Empire as one of their researchers was, in theory, a boring job. At least, right up until you were assigned the mysterious Patient Zero. With no records, no data, and no name, he may as well not exist. But he’s much more than meets the eye, and you’re about to find that out the hard way.

Multi-chapter story. Chapter 4 of 4. Read Chapter 1, Read Chapter 2 Read Chapter 3

Returning to the medi-ship with the blaster hidden in your clothes wasn’t exactly the smartest move, but it was the only one you could pull off. It was nighttime, so the lights were all dimmed and the only person you knew would truly be awake was Yen. Walking through the halls as if nothing was wrong, you headed towards the medical rooms, where Din was likely sleeping. If all went right, you wouldn’t have to reveal your blaster. If it didn’t, well, then things were about to get ugly. 

Yen was, as expected, outside Din’s door when you walked up to it. 

“You’re back early!” He said happily, yawning widely and grinning. “Have fun?�� 

“Not really,” you grumbled, trying to act natural. “There is sand everywhere.” 

Yen laughed. “Damn. Why don’t you go shower and get some sleep? Patient Zero was a doll for me while you were gone, by the way.” 

You took a breath, preparing your poker face. “Ah, that reminds me. I got orders from the boss while I was on my way back. They want to move him. Something about an upgraded facility in the outer rim that might be able to finally ID him.” 

“Oh!” Yen perked up. “That would be nice! When do you leave for that?” 

“Uh,” you shuffled your feet and put on your best guilty performance. “Technically I was supposed to leave yesterday. Figured I’d come to get him as soon as I got back, but I couldn’t make it in time. Is it okay if I take him now?” 

Yen sighed. “Sweet Maker. Alright, I’ll go prep a ship. Sure you don’t wanna wait until morning?” 

Shaking your head, you pulled your key card from your pocket. “Nah. I have to make up for lost time. And I have a ship prepped. Never turned the one I used off, so she’s still running, ready for immediate takeoff.” 

“Alrighty then,” Yen said, stepping back as you unlocked Din’s door. “I guess this is goodbye.” 

Guilt gripped your heart. “Yeah. Don’t worry, I’m sure we’ll see each other again.” 

Yen smiled. “Me too.” 

Just like that, he was gone, and you were sliding into Din’s room. “Zero!” 

He shifted in his bed, rolling over and blinking at you. “Wha?” 

You rushed to his side. “Get up. We’re going.” 

Din’s face changed, confusion decorating his features as he sat up in bed. “What?” 

Taking his hands, you looked directly into his eyes. “Din Djarin, I am taking you home.” 

Din jumped to his feet, not even bothering with shoes as he followed you out. You kept your head high as you walked, hoping not to run into anyone else. Luckily, you were able to get Din onto the ship without any issue. Unluckily, as soon as the doors were closed and you were climbing up into the cockpit, alarms started to blare. 

“Dank ferrik!” You yelled, sliding into the pilot’s seat and gripping the controls. “Hold on!” 

Powering the ship up, you took off, immediately swerving to avoid hitting a TIE fighter. The medi-ship didn’t have much by way of attack power, but it could absolutely defend itself if it had to. “Come on!” 

Din gripped the chair he was sitting in, his face tight with worry. “Let me pilot.” 

“Little busy!” You shouted back, swerving again and swearing violently. 

Din stood, holding onto the control panel for support. “Move over!” 

You kept your hands on the controls, standing and letting him sit. As soon as he took over the controls, it was like he was piloting a whole new ship. The Crest moved with odd ease, flipping and swerving with no effort at all. 

“Where to?” 

“Tatooine!” 

Din hit the hyperdrive, the blackness of space blurring away and fading into the pale blue of hyperdrive. You finally relaxed, falling limp into one of the copilot chairs. 

“Okay.” Din turned, keeping an eye on the controls as he put the ship into autopilot. “Explain.” 

And you did. You told him everything. The trip to Tatooine, learning who he was through Boba Fett, the plan to get him out and send him on his way to reunite Mandalore. He listened intently throughout the entire thing, facial expression never changing. 

Finally, once you were done, he nodded. “Does this ship have a communicator?” 

Twenty minutes later, you watched as Din set up the holo-communicator, frustration making his face pull. Eventually, it worked, a shaky image of a man appearing. 

“Din?” The staticky voice said. “Is that you?” 

“Yes,” Din said, nodding. 

You stepped away, allowing Din to have his conversation in private. Shutting the cockpit door, you headed down the ladder to the cargo hold, beginning to set up two small spaces to sleep in storage cabinets. It wasn’t neat, nor was it very comfortable, but it was private and it would work. 

“Hey.” 

You jumped, seeing Din holding the holo-communicator. A scrawny blonde with light robes and a single glove was on the screen. “Who’s that?” You asked. 

“His name is Luke.” Din held the communicator out to you. “He wants to talk to you.” 

You took the communicator, setting it up on a crate and urging Din to sit beside you. “Luke. Hello.” 

“Hello,” Luke said cheerily. An urgent babbling cut him off, and he grinned. “Din, your son is very eager to see you again.” 

Your heart almost stopped when Luke lifted a very cute green baby up, his wide brown eyes finding Din’s face and he cooed happily. 

“Is that,” 

“Grogu? Yeah.” 

You smiled. “Hello Grogu. It’s nice to meet you.” 

Grogu burbled and began to chew on a metal fixture on Luke’s coat. 

Luke gently pulled Grogu away and turned back to you. “Din tells me you’ve been doing regular tests on him, the most concerning is a blood draw. Now, we’ve had theories for years, but I’m eager to see if they’re to be confirmed today.” 

“Well,” you started. “We noticed when we started taking samples of Din, that he wasn’t naturally Force sensitive. However, he reacted to the use of the Force and he had a higher M-count. So, we assumed he’d associated with a particularly strong Force user for a long period of time, and that exposure to the Force changed his systems and adapted him to become more Force tolerant.” 

“Wait,” Din cut in. “Does that mean I’m like Grogu?” 

Luke shook his head. “No. I doubt you could be able to wield the Force. However, this means that the things the Jedi only theorized are true. I would love for you to join me on my planet and explore this concept further. Din, you would be welcome as well, of course.” 

You were shocked. Learning and researching with the Empire was one thing, but with Luke Skywalker? It was a dream come true. 

“Of course,” you said. “I would love to.” 

“And you Din? I could always use more protection out here.” 

It wasn’t even a question for Din. He nodded. “Absolutely. But we have to stop on Tatooine first. Can you send us the coordinates?” 

The communicator pinged, the coordinates saving to the device. 

Luke smiled. “May the Force be with you.” 

“And with you,” you responded, shutting off the communicator and looking at Din. “We’ll be on Tatooine in about 12 hours. Do you want to sleep?” 

Din nodded. “If I’m not up, can you dock us in a specific place?” 

You agreed, and Din immediately went off to sleep away his rescue. Meanwhile, you settled down in the cockpit, ready to land the ship when it came out of hyperspace. 

Approximately twelve hours later, you were landing the ship, hesitating upon hearing faint yelling. 

“I swear to the Force Mando! If this ship is falling apart again I will kill you myself, beskar be damned! Where the hell were you? No wonder this thing is always in horrible shape!” 

You grinned, stepping out of the ship to find a short woman in a mechanic’s uniform. “Hello! Are you Peli?” 

The woman scowled. “Are you with Mando?” 

“Uh.” You had no idea how to respond. “Yes?” 

“Yeah, they’re with me.” 

Peli softened when she saw Din, stepping forward to get a better look. “Where’d the helmet go?” 

Din shrugged. “I was kidnapped. The armor’s all with Fett.” 

In an instant, there was a blaster pointed at your face. “Did they kidnap you?” 

“No!” Din scrambled to correct her. “No! They broke me out.” 

You nodded, letting out a breath as Peli lowered the blaster. “Fine. Do you need speeders?” 

Din shook his head. “Just a place to refuel and get some new clothes.” 

Peli looked Din up and down, finally taking in his stained white Empire issue clothes and no shoes. She did the same to you, eyes narrowing at your cleaner cut researchers uniform. “C’mon in. I don’t suppose you’ve still got the little one, do you?” 

“He’s off getting proper training,” Din reassured, following Peli into the building. “With a Jedi.” 

Peli made a noise of approval as she handed you a stack of clothes. “Try those, I think they’ll fit. And Mando,” 

“Din.” 

“Din,” Peli corrected herself without skipping a beat. “Try these.” 

She left you two to change, abandoning the Empire white for Tatooine browns, greens, and burgundies. As you adjusted the loose cargo pants, you giggled at Din, who was desperately trying to pat his hair down. “C’mere.” 

He moved towards you, waiting as you sat on the bed. You patted your thighs. “Sit. I’ll fix your hair.” 

Din sat between your legs, allowing you to slowly comb through his hair with your fingers. He’d been decent about self-care while he’d been with you, always shaving when his facial hair got annoying and never needing help with his hair before this. You had to wonder how mentally drained he was if he needed your assistance here. 

Peli came back in, holding two plates of food. When she saw the blissed out Din, she quietly put the plates down. “Do you want a real comb?” She whispered. 

“Yes please,” you whispered back, nodding your thanks for the food. 

When she returned with the comb stick in a cup of water, you thanked her again and slowly drew the wet comb through Din’s hair. It worked much better than your hands, untangling the knots and taming the cowlicks. When Din finally got up to eat, he looked much more presentable. 

You turned to use the comb on yourself, but Din stopped you. Taking your wrist, he looked at you with pleading eyes. “Can I? I mean, you did it for me. It only seems right that I, y’know,” 

“Of course.” You dropped the comb into his hands and sat on the floor, waiting. Din carefully put his legs around you, sitting on the bed and wetting the comb. Water trickled down the back of your neck as he worked, his warm hands firm on your head as he guided you. The tug of the comb lulled you into a soft, gentle place. A place beyond trouble or fear. 

But good things don’t last, and suddenly you were up and eating so you could head out to Fett’s palace. 

“You come back now, you hear me?” Peli said as you climbed aboard the ship again. “I don’t want you dropping out of the galaxy, okay?” 

“Yes Peli!” Din called back, shutting the hatch. “See you soon!” 

You smiled, waving as you took off. Fett’s palace wasn’t far, so you didn’t even bother napping during the short trip out. 

When Din landed, he eagerly bounded off, knocking firmly on the front door you’d stood before not even a week prior. 

“It’s Din.” He confirmed to the hatch. “I’m here to see Boba and reclaim my armor.” 

Immediately, the doors opened, and Fennec was scooping Din up in a hug, his feet actually leaving the floor. “You had us worried sick!” She said happily. “Boba and I assumed you were dead! And you,” She said, turning to you. “You returned our bounty hunter safely. Is there any way we can repay you?” 

You shook your head. “No m’am.” 

Fennec snorted. “Please. Just Fennec will work. C’mon, let’s go see Boba.” 

Of course, on the way, you two detoured to pick up Don’s armor. He methodically put it all on, from the flight suit to the vambraces. You watched, memorizing his every movement. He picked the helmet up, staring at the dark visor. “When I swore the Mandalorian creed,” he said softly. “I swore that if my helmet ever came off in the presence of any other living thing, I wouldn’t ever put it back on. I would lose that part of myself, forever.” 

You stood, taking the helmet from his loose grip. “Din. You’ve earned this helmet ten times over.” Slowly sliding the helmet on, you noticed an immediate difference. Din stood taller, more confident and clearly more comfortable. “It suits you.” 

Fennec poked her head in. “Are we ready?” 

Din nodded, strapping a strange hilt to his belt and sliding a pure metal spear into a sheath on his back. “Let’s go.” 

Meeting Fett again was interesting. He, like Fennec, thanked you for returning Din. You simply responded that it had felt right, and there was no need to thank you. 

That night, after ample private celebrating during which Din removed his helmet so he could drink, you were alone, staring at the moons through a barred window. Slowly turning over, you sighed, trying to chase away the loneliness in your chest. 

A hesitant knock at your door snapped you upright. “Come in?” 

Din pushed the door open, slipping into the room. He was in his pyjamas, armor nowhere in sight. “Can’t sleep?” 

“And I take it you can’t either,” you pointed out, standing and stretching. “What’s troubling you Din?” 

“Loneliness.” 

You smiled. “My bed is always open,” you offered, not even thinking before you spoke. 

Din blinked. “Really?” 

Before you could hesitate or stop yourself, you nodded, scooting over. “Of course. C’mon.” 

He slid into the bed with you, eyes immediately blinking shut as you drew the covers up, covering yourself and Din to the shoulders. He relaxed, breathing out and sliding an arm over your body. You didn’t protest, instead curling closer to his warmth. “Are you really going to stay with Luke and Grogu?” You asked the hushed air. 

Din breathed out. “For a bit. I have a planet to run, apparently.” 

You laughed a bit, trying to stay quiet. “Right. The planet.” 

Din smiled. You could feel his cheek moving against your head. “What about you? Will you stay with Luke forever?” 

“Probably not,” you admitted. “I’m a traveler at heart.” 

“Me too,” Din said. “Bounty hunting was how I got out of the covert.” 

You snuggled deeper under the covers. “But you’ll stay with Luke for a bit?” 

Din was quiet for a minute. “As long as you stay too.” 

His response confused you. “What do you mean?” 

“I like you,” he admitted, his voice tender. “I enjoy having you around.” 

You smiled. “I enjoy having you around too. Can we finally be friends instead of researcher and project?” 

Now it was Din’s turn to laugh. “I thought we already were friends.” 

“Maybe we can be something more than.” 

Din hummed out a shallow breath. “Something more,” he said. “I like the sound of that.” 

The next day, as the twin suns painted the sky a brilliant orange and pink, you bid Fennec and Boba farewell as you got aboard the Crest. Din let you pilot, opting to, instead, organize the ship. You heard him clattering around every so often, but didn’t question it. He’d clearly flown a Crest before, and you trusted him to make this his home. 

Finally, you landed on the mysterious green planet from the coordinates. Setting down near a temple, you drew a cloak across your shoulders as you stepped off the ship. 

Immediately, Grogu came running as fast as his tiny legs would let him. Din crouched down and scooped him up in a tight hug, his shoulders heaving as you realized he was crying. Quickly ditching the helmet, he let Grogu pat his face down, smiling behind his tears. 

“Ah?” Grogu finally noticed you, pointing one small claw at you. 

“Yeah,” Din said. “That’s a very nice person who helped me come home to you.” 

You smiled, stepping forward and taking Grogu’s hand. “Mhm. Your dad is very brave and has waited a long time to see you again. He told me all about you.” 

Grogu cooed, cuddling into the curve of Din’s shoulder and falling asleep. 

Luke came over the hill, much slower than Grogu. “Hello.” He waved. “How was the trip?” 

Din shrugged. “Just fine. We didn’t find trouble, if that’s what you’re asking.” 

“Perfect!” Luke said, clasping his hands. “I’ve got two rooms set up for you guys, if you’ll follow me. I apologize if they’re messy, my nephew is visiting.” 

“Actually,” you said quickly, glancing to Din and getting an approving nod. “Is there any way you could make that just one room?” 

Din smiled, kicking his helmet. You reached down to pick it up. “Yeah,” he said, putting the arm that wasn’t holding Grogu around your waist. “Just one room.”

[rattyarts]

Huge-ask post (I am VERY funny)

Because I have so many questions that can be answered with just text, and I have mentioned my dislike of filling my art blog up with Words Words Words... let’s get them all done in one go!

(You guys can blacklist #rattytalks if you’re just here for the draws, btw)

A shit ton of asks under the cut!

Anonymous said: So for the center of the world, what with it being forcefully PG and all Bad Thoughts TM being prevented, how does having kids happen? Do parents just black out and wake up holding a child in their arms and vague memories of the last 9 months?

Ever seen a movie where they do that “and one day... a baby was born!” thing and a kid just appears offscreen with no explanation?

(This is how it works everywhere, Edgelands included; no one does the do or gets pregnant in this setting.)

Anonymous said: Hello! Quick question, and sorry if you’ve answered this before, but can other elves see the “intangible” bits of one another? Big fan of your work btw!

Nope! And thank you!

Anonymous said: Leopold was in my dream last night but I sadly cannot remember any of it.

I am SO sorry. I will try to keep my stinky murder men out of your head in the future.

Anonymous said: are the floaty bits stuck in one spot, or could the one they are attached to learn to move them around their body as long as its still within a certain distance? like, someone with the Floaty limbs, lets call him Ray, can move his limbs all over his body, allowing him to do all sorts of neat things that others with their attached limbs probably couldn't?

Whatever you want, honestly. As a general rule of thumb I don’t like putting down TOO many hard rules that prevent people from having fun with this setting. (Please ignore and scrap anything you think is stupid, I do this all the time and enjoy keeping this setting inconsistent and contradictory)

Anonymous said: Do elf names work off of Death Note rules, or is it like, if you know one elf’s name, all elves with that name are now unable to harm you? So if all the elf brothers are named Martin, for example, does it only work with blue?

I think it’s prolly just the one! Probably? Idk, might change if I think of something funnier.

Anonymous said: Can elves do magic on themselves or does thst go against the knowing name rule

Most people tend to know their own names, lol. So in my opinion, no, but don’t let me stop you if you got a fun idea.

Anonymous said: Could an Elf stitch on parts from another elf and have them work? i.e an Elf's finds the arm of another Elf. "Hey, free arm, might as well put it to good use", so they attach the arm and now they can give three high fives at once!

Same deal as previous questions, I personally would say no, but I also encourage people to do whatever the hell they want. It’s more fun that way!

Anonymous said: I bet elves are greasy to the touch.

They’re very powdery! Like if you rolled them in flour. And by flour I mean nasty glowing elf dandruff.

Anonymous said: Can elves fly or are their wings just for show?

No flying!!! (Unless you’re a mousefly)

Anonymous said: Something tells me that the elves would LOVE Obatzda.

Had to look that up, but definitely!

no1fan15: Not sure if someone asked already- Does Edgeworld have any equivalent to demons and angels? Like the old rubberhose cartoon kind?

Demons, yes! That’s what imps are: basically any demon, devil, or generic monster, but tiny! Even a couple of pop culture critters in there, there’s probably a very small gillman or robot monster running around there somewhere.

Angels, not so far. 

Anonymous said: How come Margaret hasn't yeeted George's jar into the Edge yet

I’d say being locked in a closet is good enough! (and also I need him for plot reasons, don’t tell anyone)

Anonymous said: If elves have knees bulges in the front then do they have butt bulges in the back?

i do not want to think about elf bulges

Anonymous said: So if you find a baby Therewoof and you say "aw you're so cute", their true name is So Cute?

Yep!

Anonymous said: Since a Therewoof's true name can be something like "cutie pie" or "dingus", does their name have to be spoken with "intent" for it to doggo-fy them? Or do they just have to live with the reality that any casual conversation/flirting can make them lose up to a month to Doggy Mode? My mom has little terrier dog named "Sweetie" so that got me thinking 'bout Therewoof names. & Anonymous said: here's a good question: If someone says a therewoof's true name, but not reffering to them, does it still affect them?

Just saying it will do! It’s based on those old werewolf stories where calling out the person’s name will change them back into a human/cure them, and a lot of the time it was by accident.

(My favorite is the one where they slam the door on the wolf’s tail and then say his name, and the dude ends up with a wolf tail for the rest of his life.)

Anonymous said: Would Seeing eye Therewoofs be a thing?

I... guess? Probably? Since regular dogs can turn into woofs, yeah. You might have to start paying em once they turn into a person tho. 

Anonymous said: Was ChalkZone ever an inspiration for you? Because I just love the silly world of ChalkZone and I noticed getting that same warm feeling when thinking about Edgeworld.

Maaaan, I wish. I’ve only seen about three episodes or so, but it seems really fun!

Anonymous said: So I saw your mimic post, and even though I don't think I've seen any other of your art before I was absolutely HAMMERED with an indescribable sense of slightly unsettling strangeness and comfortable familiarity. Your art feels like something from like, an old point and click computer game I would have had formative memories of before accidentally losing or scratching the disc therefore making me unsure if it ever REALLY existed. Sorry for being weird but I love the wacky nostalgia feel here

Aaaaaah, THANK YOU! That is SUCH a cool comparison and I appreciate!!!

Anonymous said: If the Edgeworld is based on cartoons then is there a Reverse Edge-world that’s based on anime?

Lol, I mean I DID have an anime phase for a while there, so...

caydebug: Man I’d love to see this as a cartoon some day

Honestly, same. Best you’re gonna get is the occasional animatic or gif, tho.

Anonymous said: Does anyone..."go" in Edgeworld? or is it like Pleasantville where bathrooms exist but there are no toilets in them because acknowledging it is yucky?

Oh god I keep getting asked this and have been avoiding it like the damn plague. But... Uh. No. No they do not. I am begging you all not to send any followup questions.

Anonymous said: Have you considered putting computer viruses or illnesses in with the buggymen? Since those are typically called ‘bugs’

Sure!

Anonymous said: are there any limits to what an Animimic could posess? i.e if they were in a costume of a Buggieman with multiple arms, could they control all of them? what about a small Mousefly costume? can multiple fit into one costume like a clown car? and what about in pitch black darkness, where you can only see the lights of their eyes and not their bodies? could one fit inside the pocket of a jacket you are wearing and help you steal things/wield a gun like a living turret?

Since clothing fills into the body type of the intended wearer, they would indeed be able to control all arms/legs in buggieman clothes.

Size restrictions is one of these things I wanna try to be vague about: I personally have been imagining them sticking to hiding in things no smaller than, um. Maybe imp sized, but really, whatever. It’s a cartoon eyeball critter!

You can put multiple animimics in one outfit!

They can move around just fine in darkness without being off screen, yeah!

And sure why not. lol

Anonymous said: I know you have been asked this once before, and you said nah you don't, but with a few more months of worldbuilding, do you have an idea for what could be down the edge now? 🤔

Not really! It’s not super important, honestly. I’d say any fan theory is about as valid as anything else I can come up with.

ps2polpo: I doubt you’ll ever elaborate on The Edge but I like to imagine there’s just one dude there like the Nowhere Man from the Yellow Submarine movie. Mostly cause the thought of someone accidentally winding up there being like “where am I?” And there’s just a guy casually waving at him like a friendly neighbor is funny to me & Anonymous said: The implication that the Edge is the physical manifestation of edginess so there’s probably like, Trevor Henderson monsters hanging out down there.

See above question! Valid! I also accept falling forever, getting erased from existence, ending up in another universe, getting stuck in limbo with thousands of other people, whatever you want, really!

Anonymous said: " he has very few bones and weighs basically nothing, " "Fastball special" trope, but with Leo?

YEET THE NASTY MAN

Anonymous said: did you ever watch dragon tales as a kid? because george and margaret make me think of murderous zak and wheezie from that show, and i love it to bits

I did not, but I would have loved it. Definitely up my alley!

(watched Quest for Camelot a loooot, though!)

Imma go ahead and stop here! There’s more but I’ve been writing for well over an hour and I have things to do. If your question is missing I’m either saving it for later, wasn’t entirely sure how to answer, or it’s spoilery.

Will probably do another one of these at some point!

[drarry-fanfiction7]

True Love Touch - Part 2

Summary: “The curse was quite forward in its intent, Harry had to give it credit for that, not that it was a particularly good thing. Truly a great thing to be cursed with if one was painfully single and painfully not in love with anyone.”

Or, the one where Harry is cursed with a love spell and Draco doesn’t get any sleep.

Part 1

Words: 3.7k

(can also be read on my ao3 @/invisible_slytherin)

__________________________________

Hermione had her head buried in a book, five more scattered around her. Her fingers were stained with ink and her hair was messier than usual. A frown was on her face, but she resolutely didn't look up; not when a few second years started playing Exploding Snap, not when Seamus started telling a story in a loud tone, not when a few fourth years started giggling as they gossiped on the couch.

Ron was next to her, head resting on an open book and some drool starting to pool at the corner of his mouth. He didn't look like he would be waking up anytime soon.

The three of them had been sitting at the table since Ron and Hermione had come up from dinner, reading books and parchments, taking notes and coming up with theories. Now, it was dark outside and most people had already climbed the stairs to the dorms.

They weren't any closer to finding anything.

"Maybe we should get some sleep," Harry said, thumbing over the words 'old curse' on the book he had been trying to pay attention to.

"No, we should keep going for a little longer. We haven't found anything concrete yet."

"Hermione, we're all tired. We won't find anything in this state."

She sighed tiredly. Her elbows came up to rest on the table and she buried her face in her hands.

"We'll find something soon enough," he tried to reassure her as much as he tried to reassure himself.

"We will." Her voice wasn't quite sure and there was doubt in her eyes, but, tonight, her words were enough for Harry.

She reached out, hand outstretched to pat his, and the two of them froze. Her hand stopped midair and he retreated his own slowly from the table, placing it on his lap.

"I'm sorry," she started.

"Don't worry about it. I forget too."

She smiled at him, a small smile that was more concerned than reassuring. Then, she closed her book, golden letters spelling 'Love Spells' shinning in the dim light of the common room.

"Let's go to sleep. We'll pick this up again tomorrow."

Harry watched as she woke up Ron. She put a hand on his hair and run it through it slowly, her thumb catching on his forehead sometimes. She leaned down to whisper in his ear when he groaned sleepily and patted his back softly before stretching up again.

"Goodnight, Harry," she said, putting all her books and parchments in a neat pile at the end of the table.

Harry nodded at her and sent a smile her way, meaning to reassure her that he was alright and would be alright.

Ron was rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hands, yawning as he pushed the book he had been sleeping on to the centre of the table.

"I can't even look at words anymore," he mumbled.

Harry laughed and almost reached out to clap him over the shoulder, the reality of his situation hit him before he could.

"I'm going to bed." Ron got up from his seat. "You coming?"

"In a bit."

Ron grinned at him and didn't bother with closing the book before climbing the stairs to the dorm.

Harry still had his book in front of him, he pretended to scan the pages and take notes while he waited for the common room to empty. When there were only three fifth-years standing there, he closed the book and discarded the parchment full of the useless doodles he had made to pass time and went upstairs.

The dorm was quiet apart from the usual snores of the guys he shared with. Seamus was the loudest, but Ron was close on his heels. Dean shifted on his bed, turning to face the door as Harry entered and he stopped in his tracks as not to wake anyone. He tiptoed to his bed, opening the trucks and getting his invisibility cloak and the Marauder's Map from it.

Then, in the same careful manner as he had come in, he left the room again.

He shoved the map in his pocket and the cloak underneath his jumper and descended the stairs to the common room again. The fifth years were still sitting on the couch when he came down again and they looked up at him as he appeared.

"I thought you had gone to sleep," one of them said.

"Nah," Harry chuckled. "I actually think I'm going to get something from the kitchens. I'm really fancying a late-night snack, right now."

The three of them stared at him curiously and Harry knew that now it wasn't just because he was Harry Potter who had defeated Voldemort, now it was also because he had been skipping class and not going down to the Great Hall in over a week.

Harry ignored their looks and left the common room.

***

The kitchens were warmer than the rest of the castle. The heat a welcomed change from the shivering cool of the corridors as Harry entered. House-elves were fusing about, doing Harry wasn't even sure what. Some stopped to stare at him as they noticed his entrance.

"Harry Potter," one of them said, bowing down so low he almost kissed his own feet.

"I was wondering if you had any snacks I could have?" He asked awkwardly.

"Of course, Harry Potter. Anything Harry Potter wants," another one said excitedly, his pointy ears fluttering.

Harry smiled at them, hand raising to rub the back of his neck. This was too much attention.

He hadn't come to the kitchens this year yet. He had known that the elves were probably going to throw a figurative party around him if he appeared, but thinking they were going to it hadn't exactly prepared him for all the attention he was receiving.

One of the elves gestured for Harry to follow her and led him to an adjacent room. One with a table, snacks and a blond boy sitting on one of the chairs.

Malfoy raised his eyes from his cup of steaming liquid and stared at them as they entered. He sighed when he looked at Harry as if it annoyed him to look at him.

"So we meet again in the middle of the night, Potter," Malfoy said. "Cheers to being insomniacs."

"Then it's not just wanting to be alone." Harry pulled back one of the chairs to sit, his back protesting as he rested it against the chair.

Malfoy rolled his eyes.

"Wasn't about to spill everything to you the first time we saw each other, was I?"

"Is it more acceptable to spill everything on the second time then?"

"My insomnia is hardly new, Potter. Anyone with a brain could conjure that I probably don't have the best sleeping schedule. No one does really."

"Yeah, well, we all saw some pretty messed up things over the last years."

"That we did," Malfoy looked at him.

He blew on his cup to cool down whatever it was that he was drinking and took a sip, a small brown drop catching on his top lip.

"Drinking coffee seems hardly like a solution to your problem, Malfoy."

Malfoy stared at him with a contemplative expression. Eyes fixed on Harry as he grabbed a napkin and dabbed at his mouth.

"It's not about falling asleep, Potter. It's about staying awake."

"Why are you always so cryptic?"

Malfoy shrugged. "It's part of my charm."

"I wouldn't exactly call it charm, but whatever you want, Malfoy."

Malfoy rolled his eyes at him, but he didn't seem to mind the conversation and the remarks. He seemed to be having fun with it if the small upward curve of his lips was anything to go by.

They stayed in silence for a while, Malfoy sipping his coffee and Harry reaching out to grab a few snacks from the middle of the table, mindful of his bruises.

It felt surreal to be sharing late-night snacks with Malfoy in the kitchens while having a civilized, albeit slightly strained, conversation with him. They were so different, had always been, and they had never managed to get along. But now, sitting in front of Malfoy with snacks in front of them, seeing Malfoy sip his coffee because he didn't want to sleep and having an actual conversation with him, it seemed like they were two different people entirely. Two different people who hadn't had a rivalry and a war between them, two different people who could actually get along.

"Isn't it weird?" He ended up asking.

"Your inability to be eloquent? Yes, Potter, it is quite weird, you should fix it."

"Asshole," Harry rolled his eyes amused. "I meant the two of us, here in the middle of the night, talking as if we're friends."

"Friends isn't the word I would use."

And of course, Harry wouldn't call them friends either, he just meant that they were being more friendly toward each other than they had ever been before.

"You know what I mean."

"Yes, I do know." He sipped his coffee again, making Harry wait for an answer. "I think we both grew up, wouldn't you say."

"A bit hard not to."

"Indeed. We grew up, we learned that school rivalries are nothing when there are things that are so much bigger and dangerous. And after being involved in those things, school rivalries sound quite silly."

Harry didn't answer. Malfoy was right, they had had to grow up when faced with Voldemort, war, losing loved ones and seeing everything they had known crumble around them. They had been in opposites sides, but there were things that were universal. The suffering and fear were two of them.

"For what it's worth, I don't exactly hate you," Harry decided to say.

Malfoy chuckled, shaking his head and putting down his now empty cup.

"You're not so bad yourself, Potter."

And that had to be some high praise coming from Malfoy. More than Harry ever thought he would get from him, more than he ever thought he wanted to hear from him. Strangely, it didn't feel entirely weird to hear it, it felt heartwarming. It made leaving the past behind feel solid between them.

The silence that followed wasn't as harsh as the others had been. This one felt lighter, felt like it was there simply because they didn't know each other enough to break it and not because they weren't supposed to be talking to each other. This was the kind of silence Harry didn't mind having with Malfoy.

"Potter," he called. "Did you hit your shoulder?"

Harry furrowed his eyebrows at the question. Then, Malfoy pointed at his right shoulder and Harry twisted his head to look. Despite the angle, it was impossible not to notice the dark purple bruise that marked the skin there. Neville had pulled him back when they were leaving the dorm the day before to go into the common room and the bruise had appeared right away.

Harry considered telling him again. He didn't know why but he felt compelled to just talk about it, tell someone that didn't know already. Or maybe it was just Malfoy who was looking at him with curiosity in his eyes and tousled hair, drinking coffee in the kitchens in the middle of the night because he has insomnia and doesn't want to go to sleep. Maybe it was just him that Harry wanted to talk to.

"I-" he hesitated. "Yeah, I jammed it against the door."

"How clumsy of you, Potter," he said.

He seemed a little suspicious, but not enough to question him.

"And you're still not going to class either." Definitely suspicious then.

"It's complicated."

"Clearly."

Harry knew that Malfoy wasn't about to outright ask him what was going on, as suspicious as he was that something weird must be happening. He would wait for Harry to talk, would say things to prompt any confessions that Harry wanted to make, but not demand anything.

"I better go back to the dungeons," Malfoy said, getting up from his chair.

He was elegant about it. He dabbed at his already clean lips with the napkin in front of him, pushed the chair back without making any noise and got up with a straight back.

"I'll see you at some point, Potter."

"You will."

***

The next time he saw Malfoy was actually in daylight, for once. It was Saturday afternoon and the sun was bright despite the cold outside. Most people were either outside enjoying the cool sunshine or at Hogsmeade. Because of that, Harry had deemed it safe enough to leave the tower for once and go to the library, figuring that no one would try to touch him there.

Ron and Hermione had gone on a date. Well, they hadn't wanted to call it a date to Harry's face since Hermione seemed convinced that going on a date when they could be helping with research was quite selfish. Harry was just glad that Ron had managed to convince her that they would be able to help much more if they took some time to unwind and that going to Hogsmeade was a great way to unwind. It's not like one afternoon would lower their chances of finding anything to help Harry by much if anything.

Now, Harry was sitting alone at one of the tables. He had made the effort to grab some books about curses, had even brought some of the ones McGonaggal had provided them, but he wasn't exactly paying attention to them. He could see a Ravenclaw boy flying about in the courtyard through one of the windows and he could only feel strong envy towards him. This damn curse had taken his freedom, Hogwarts, the ability to be with his friends normally and quidditch from him. He wanted all of it back.

"Why are you in the library on this fine Saturday afternoon, Potter?"

He tore his gaze away from the window and found Malfoy on the other side of the table, three books in his hands, looking down at him.

"I'm studying."

Malfoy raised an unimpressed eyebrow and looked down at the books Harry had displayed in front of him. That was when Harry realized his mistake. None of the books was about things that were in the curriculum.

"Studying for what exactly?"

"Knowledge. I was just interested."

"I'm sure you were."

If Malfoy had been suspicious before, he was more than suspicious now. He was sure that something was going on with Harry that was making him skip classes and meals in the Great Hall and that might be related to his bruises.

Malfoy's books fell to the table with a dull sound and Harry buried his face in his crossed arms when he grabbed one of the books Harry had been reading. He didn't lift his head to see Malfoy's expression as he read the title or as he thumbed through the pages.

"Not the kind of topic I would expect you to be interested in," was the first time he said.

He was still not going to ask for answers and Harry wanted to shake him and make him demand them, that way he would have a better excuse to spill everything than just his crazy want to do it.

"People can surprise you," he said weekly, raising his head.

Malfoy's eyes were narrowed. He still had the book in his hands, eyes switching between reading some passages and staring at Harry. His expression getting increasingly more resolute as his eyes did that dance.

He closed the book and put it down on the table. Harry thought he was going to leave and not say anything about it anymore. He didn't know if he wanted that to happen or not. On the one hand, it would mean that he wouldn't feel the pressure of Malfoy's eyes anymore and would be able to relax again and go back to pretending like he was reading anything. But then he knew that if he was ever alone with Malfoy again, he would still want to tell him about all of it.

But Malfoy didn't leave. He pulled out a chair and sat in front of Harry, staring at him in silence for a while before leaning over the table and meeting Harry's eyes without much effort.

"What's going on, Potter?"

There it was. The question Harry had been waiting for to tell Malfoy everything. He wanted to tell him everything and he couldn't even fully comprehend why himself.

"I think you already know," he settled for saying.

"I'd still like for you to tell me."

Harry licked his lips and avoided Malfoy's eyes.

"I've been cursed."

Malfoy nodded and waited for him to continue talking.

"Madam Pomfrey and the professors think it was the last time we went to Hogsmeade. They don't think any student could have been so successful at a powerful dark curse."

"And what exactly is this dark curse?"

Harry opened his mouth but opted for showing him instead of just telling him. In for a little, in for a lot. He sighed and pulled his sleeves up, exposing the black and blue bruises that were littering his arm, from wrist to elbow and disappearing beneath the bundled up sleeve at his bicep. The bruises from his last days of classes hadn't faded yet and, even while being so careful, there were some new ones.

"Merlin, Potter, what the hell is that curse?"

Malfoy looked positively paler than he had always been. Eyebrows pinched together and lips parted in surprise. He reached a hand as if to touch and Harry flinched so violently that it startled the two of them.

"It happens when someone touches me," he rushed out to justify. "The curse… it basically makes bruises appear when anyone who isn't my true love touches me. True Love Touch was what they called it."

Malfoy retreated his hand, that had been hanging in the air until now, and cradled it to his chest as if he had been the one about to be bruised.

"That's why you haven't been going to class," he wasn't asking, he was weaving the threads together in his head and understanding what was happening with Harry.

"I've been staying confined to the tower. It's easier to avoid any contact, accidental or not, with people that way."

"Trouble really likes you, doesn't it?"

And that joking tone was so far from what Harry had ever expected from Malfoy, it almost seemed like he had imagined it. Harry had never heard that tone coming from Malfoy, much less aimed at him.

"I wish it didn't," he ended up saying.

"I don't think you would know how to deal with a normal life."

It was probably true. Harry was so used to having a target on his back, to researching all sorts of things - though Hermione did most of that part - and constantly looking behind his back as if he was going to be attacked at every second, that he most likely would be very put off by a 'normal' year.

Still, it would have been nice to be bored and spend some time with his friends without being cursed and consequentially being locked up in a tower as if he were a damsel in distress.

"Would you like to trade? I'd rather like a normal life."

Malfoy's face closed off, the playful expression fading into a cold one that left Harry feeling lost and strangely resentful.

"My life is far from normal, Potter," Malfoy's voice sounded like it did years ago, before their late-night conversations and weird understanding of each other.

Harry wasn't sure how what he had said that had made the mood sour so quickly, but he wanted to not have said it. He wanted Malfoy to have that open, amused expression on his face again, he wanted him to keep talking to Harry and let him talk to him.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't want to offend you."

Malfoy looked up at him, eyes narrowing as he took on Harry's face and tried to read him. Harry was sure that it wouldn't be too hard, he was terrible at concealing how he felt, after all.

"You don't understand, do you?"

"Understand what?"

"Why my life isn't the so-called normal."

"I-"

"I'm a Death Eater, Potter. My whole family is. I used to walk on money and leave proud footsteps behind me, but that doesn't happen anymore. Now, I try to hide in the shadows as much as possible and I don't want anyone to even look at me. I don't like it when people look at me for I know that there's nothing good going through their heads."

Harry hadn't considered it. He guessed that one of the things that came with being so involved in one side of the war, was how it made it hard to see the other side as anything other than the enemy. It made it hard to think that things could be not as black and white as they seem and that people who were on the other side also suffered, kept suffering after the war.

And some of them did deserve, Harry could be a good person and still think that. But there were people who maybe were victims too, Harry sometimes failed to see that. Which did not mean that Malfoy didn't deserve some backlash for what he had done during the war. He might be only eighteen, but he still made some decisions and did certain things that couldn't be overlooked.

"I didn't think of that…"

"I know," Malfoy said.

He pulled back his chair and got up, grabbing his books and leaving Harry's on the table. Before he left, he turned around and gave Harry a small, closed-off smile.

"Good luck with your curse, Potter."

He wasn't mad and that was a relief for Harry who found himself enjoying his conversations with Malfoy more and more.

"I'll need it," he said and watched as Malfoy left the library.

____________________________

Part 3

Masterlist

[bouwrites]

Even Heroes Have the Right to Dream: Chapter 7

I try to reach out to the light through the glass as it shatters.

First, Previous, Next. Ao3.

Story under read-more.

Marinette is nervous to see Jon again. She probably shouldn’t be. They don’t part on a bad note, and as they promise, they text each other throughout the break, so she knows they’re good, she just… is nervous.

The summer is a good time to distract herself and process everything that happened. Process knowing that Jon is Superboy. Or, was. He’s not anymore. Marinette still has to remind herself of that, despite it all. And the reason she has to remind herself is because it just makes too much sense.

Jon is a man who takes what he’s doing seriously. Even when he laughs and jokes around, he practices a kind of restraint that Marinette doesn’t see in many people. A sort of temperance that implies he’s always aware of exactly what he’s doing. The way he makes moves around her so that he never crowds her even in the tightest of quarters, how careful he is with the most simple of actions, like holding a pencil, the way he always seems to be there when she has a problem, but never forces the issue. Moments like the day she returned from break and he cheered her up after her breakup with Adrien. He’s almost hyperaware of boundaries and stays as far as he can from breaking anything while still doing everything possible to help.

Marinette thought he was just like that, but now that she knows he was Superboy, she thinks that’s probably something that is trained into him. That doesn’t make him any less sweet and thoughtful, of course, but if she’s totally honest his powers unnerve her. Even in her time as Ladybug, Marinette never had the pleasure of meeting any of the Kryptonian heroes, but she knows of them. Alya adores them. Marinette doesn’t know what to think of them.

Some people – most people – uphold Superman as an ideal. He’s a model of the idea that power doesn’t have to corrupt. He is someone with the power to do almost anything he wants, a veritable god on Earth, yet he doesn’t. He restrains himself, constantly and consistently puts the needs of others above his own, and is relentlessly mindful of the repercussions of his actions. He’s a reminder to do good, but also that one must remain vigilant in doing so.

To a certain degree, Marinette also tries to uphold this ideal. When she accepted her role as a hero back then, she did everything she could to make Ladybug stand for the same thing.

In a word, Superman as a hero can be described as careful. All of the Super family can. Jon is no exception, even in his daily life. So, in that sense, it doesn’t surprise her.

That said, truth be told, that kind of power makes Marinette uncomfortable. She doesn’t have great experience with adults in positions of authority restraining themselves and consistently doing the right thing, to say the least. She doesn’t trust that kind of power, because she believes that power does corrupt.

Power turns little girls into bullies. Power is what desperate people lie and cheat and kill for. Power is what turns a heartbroken widower into a deranged psychopath, or a devoted love into heartless manipulation. It’s a hero’s job to wield power for good, but how many terrible things have been done by heroes? Perhaps it’s cynical of her, but while she believes in people’s inherent goodness, she does not believe in the goodness of power. The hero’s job is so difficult precisely because they’re using their power against its own nature.

And thus, she’s ideologically at odds with Superman. Maybe he can do it. Maybe he can refuse temptation. Maybe he’s really just that good that his restraint and integrity can survive the absolutely absurd amount of power he possesses. Maybe Supergirl is the same way, too. But someday, if they keep having kids, if Jon’s kids inherit the powers, and their kids inherit it, and on, and on, Marinette doesn’t think it’ll be long before one of them does mess up.

And yet… now that she knows Jon, now that she knows what kind of person he is, she’s not so worried. Because Jon isn’t a person who practices restraint. He’s not a person who is always keeping an eye on himself, checking himself because no one around him is strong enough to do it for him. Jon is just a guy who has so much of that inherent goodness Marinette believes in that he doesn’t need that kind of restraint. Marinette is surprised that she trusts him. And that makes her doubt his family a little less, too. They raised him, after all, so they can’t be that bad.

“What’s that?” Marinette asks. Jon is finally at the apartment and is unpacking when she spies a colorful bolt of cloth in an open one.

Jon looks over and chuckles awkwardly. “That’s, uh… that’s the… flag. Of Krypton.”

“Huh. I didn’t know you had a flag.”

Jon takes it out of the box to spread out on the coffee table so she can see it. It’s a little dull and faded. Marinette imagines it’s old. When she pictures the flag in its proper form, she thinks it’s bright and vibrant. The planet in the middle with seemingly random-colored rays bursting out from it. “Yeah, it’s the, like, Planetary Federation of Krypton’s flag. There were other people on Krypton, but this is, you know, my folks’ flag.”

“…Neat.”

Marinette spies Jon frowning at her. “You’re not… upset?”

She blinks. “Upset for what?”

“Because it’s… weird alien stuff?”

“Pfft, oh, no, Jon.” She sighs. “I don’t want anything to do with heroes, but your heritage is not a hero thing. I don’t mind you bringing Kryptonian things in here. I mean, I make you take off your shoes. That’s not an American thing.”

Jon lets out a tense breath. “Oh, good. Hah. I was kind of nervous about that.”

Marinette laughs. She can see why he is, honestly, especially after last semester. “So, why do you have this? Did you just not take it last year because I didn’t know yet or what? And, uh…” She takes another long, cautious look at the flag, “what do you plan on doing with it?”

Jon eyes the flag with her. “Nah, I got it this summer. My Aunt Kara gave it to me. She was actually on Krypton before it blew up, so she’s the only one who actually remembers what it was like there.” He looks over at her and smirks. “And don’t worry, I’m not hanging it up. That would be hard to explain to visitors. Besides, it’s kind of ugly, isn’t it?”

“Oh, thank god!” Marinette sighs dramatically. “I didn’t want to be rude, so I didn’t want to say anything, but you said it first! It’s pretty ugly.”

Jon laughs. “I know. But it’s symbolic.”

“They couldn’t have picked a prettier symbol? This is like a Teletubby vomited on fabric.”

“Pfft hahaha! Marinette! Wow!”

Marinette blushes. “I’m sorry, was that too far? I just-”

Jon continues cackling as he valiantly tries to force comprehensible words out. “Don’t worry about it! It is ugly.”

Marinette shifts uncomfortably. True as her statement is, and even though she is only emboldened enough to say it because Jon clearly takes no offense, she still feels guilty throwing shade at the flag of a near-extinct culture. That seems disrespectful. “So… what does it mean?”

Jon calms down his giggling to explain. “Right, so I’m not really an expert on Krypton, so I’m probably not the best person to ask, but each part of the flag represents one of the eleven virtues. They’re usually referred to altogether as the Girod.”

“Girod.” Marinette tests the alien word on her tongue. It’s a little strange to her, not because of pronunciation or the word itself, but because of the knowledge that the word she’s saying quite literally comes from an alien race.

“The Girod is basically the foundation of Kryptonian society. When Aunt Kara gave me this, she told me this,” he gestures to the flag, “is what it means to be Kryptonian. She and dad try their best to live up to the Girod, and I…” He sighs, melancholier than Marinette expects. “I’m not sure yet. I mean, in theory, I’ve been raised with the same principles. We just didn’t call it the Girod or acknowledge it as, you know, the foundation of Kryptonian society. But… I’m not really sure I believe it’s even possible.”

Marinette purses her lips, examining Jon carefully. He’s pensive, all furrowed brow and distant eyes lost in the oceans of the planet on the flag. “What are the virtues? You said there’s eleven of them?”

Jon shakes himself out of his thoughts to answer. “Right, uh… The center, that’s Krypton, represents Unity. Then there’s… Truth, Industriousness, and Justice. Those are the core virtues, and are the three green lines here. Then there’s… Peace, Purity, Restraint… how many was that? Hold on.” He frowns, grumbling as he counts on his fingers. “Unity, three core ones – that’s four. Peace, Purity, Restraint… seven. What else? Imagination, that’s one. Can’t forget Hope – you know, my family’s crest also stands for Hope? Apparently the ‘S’ for Superman is just convenient.”

Marinette giggles. “I think Alya might have mentioned that.”

Jon nods. “Anyway, that’s… where were we? Augh, sorry, just a second.” He picks his phone up off the table and navigates through it.

“It’s fine if you don’t remember, Jon.”

“No, no, I need to remember this. I’m trying to learn it. Okay, here it is. I got the first few right. Unity, Truth, Industriousness, Justice. Then, oh! That’s what I was forgetting. Synergy.”

“Synergy?” Marinette makes a face. “Isn’t that the same as Unity?”

“Eh… sort of. Unity is more like… belonging. It’s… family, sort of. Like, we’re all part of the same group. Synergy is working together; more of a ‘greater than the sum of its parts’ kind of thing.”

“Oh, okay, that makes sense.”

“And the rest of the virtues are Imagination, Purity, Restraint, Hope, and Altruism… wait, was that eleven? Oh! Peace. I said that the first time but skipped when I was reading the notes.”

“Calm down, Jon. You won’t remember it right away.” She pats his back gently. “I think it’s really cool that you’re trying, though.

Jon ducks his head. “Thanks. I- I’m not really… I don’t really know what I’m doing.” He gets that far-off look as he examines the flag once more. “Krypton is just as alien to me as it is to you, but… somehow it’s my heritage. Honestly, it’s kind of weird. And the Girod… Do you see what I mean? When I say I’m not sure I really believe it’s possible to live up to that?”

Marinette sighs. The way Jon hold himself, how unsure he is, how frightened he is, it’s unsettling to her. For a lot of reasons. “You know, to me, it sounds like you do a pretty good job already.”

“You think?” Jon doesn’t smile. That draws Marinette’s lips downwards, too.

“Yeah.” She says. “Can I see the list?” He hands over his phone so she can read off it. On the note is just a simple list of the virtues with a color next to them – the color on the flag that symbolizes that virtue. “Restraint. I think your whole family has that in spades just to live normally.”

Jon chuckles uncomfortably. “Something tells me that’s not what that originally meant.”

Marinette shrugs. “Altruism. You’re one of the most selfless people I know. Remember when I was really frazzled last year just before our first tests?”

That does manage to pull a smile out of him. “I had to take you out fabric shopping just so you’d obsess over something else. Then I ended up being your pack horse.”

“And that whole time, you had tests to study for, too.” Marinette points out. “That’s just one of a hundred different things you’ve done for me in just a semester, not even counting everyone else you help all the time. Then there’s peace. I think you do that better than your dad.”

Jon jumps a little. “You do?”

“Duh. Even in the name of peace, violence is still violence. I don’t think any of those types of heroes can truly say they stand for peace.”

“Even if it’s to protect people who can’t protect themselves?”

“That doesn’t mean they aren’t fighting. Even if it’s a good fight, even if it’s the only choice, it’s still not peace. Don’t you think?”

Jon is quiet for a long time. “…Yeah, I think I agree.”

Marinette smiles and hands him his phone back. “But, hey, I’m human. Maybe my interpretation of these virtues isn’t even close to how Kryptonians saw them.”

Jon frowns for a little longer, and then asks, “Does it matter? Maybe humans have some pretty good insight. I think you do, at least.”

“Aw, that’s sweet. I try my best.”

Jon giggles. “You know, I’ve talked to Aunt Kara about what each of the virtues mean, but… now I’m thinking I want your perspective, too. I’m not, like, devoting my life to the Girod or anything, but… I think it’s a beautiful ideal. Don’t you? It might be worth thinking about, as I figure out what kind of person I want to be now that I’m not a hero.”

“Sure.” Marinette says. “I’m always happy to help. And, now that I’m thinking about it, if you want sage advice on virtues, you might find talking to Tikki interesting.”

Jon raises his brow at her. “Tikki?”

“She’s a kwami. I never told you how I became Ladybug, did I?” Jon shakes his head. Marinette chuckles. “Well, I’ll start at the beginning.”

Marinette doesn’t introduce Jon to Tikki right away. They both still have unpacking to do and a semester to prepare for, after all, but they do eventually find time for Marinette to dig out the earrings and summon her.

Tikki’s big, sad eyes cut deep into Marinette. She knows Tikki doesn’t like that Marinette doesn’t wear the earrings regularly, or that Marinette is leaving the Miracle Box in Paris. She begrudgingly gives her blessing, but she’s definitely not happy about it.

Marinette often misses Tikki, but the earrings feel so heavy in her ears. It’s hard to bring herself to wear them. It’s been over a year now since she stopped doing so regularly. Despite everything else, Marinette likes being just a normal girl. The leaden studs in her ears and Tikki’s constant presence is only a reminder that she isn’t and never will be. A painful one.

“Tikki, meet Jon.”

“Hi, Jon!” Tikki chirps, appearing happy. “It’s nice to finally meet you!”

Jon hesitates a little when he sees her, and Marinette can tell his smile is a tad strained. “You too, Tikki.”

“Marinette told me about you.” Tikki says. “Thank you for being here for her. I know times are hard for the both of you, but I know you can get through it together if you stick by each other.”

Again, Jon hesitates. There’s an odd look in his eyes as he says, “Yeah. I’m lucky to have her.” The look is almost… wary.

The conversation continues for a while, and Jon eventually explains the Girod and asks for Tikki’s opinion on it and as Tikki talks, Jon starts shifting around and staring at his own lap and worrying his lip. “I’m curious about the Kryptonian stance on when those virtues come into conflict.” Tikki says. “If, for instance, you must sacrifice Peace for the sake of Justice, what should you do?”

“Don’t.” Jon says. “If you sacrifice peace for justice, it’s not justice to start with. It’s revenge, or pettiness, or… something like that.” He’s quiet for a moment. “I’d like to think so, anyway. Honestly… I don’t know enough about Krypton to say what they thought.”

Tikki hums thoughtfully. “But if there is a villain that is hurting people, there may be no way to bring him to justice except to fight.”

Jon slouches further, shrinking in his chair. “Is it worth it? To sacrifice peace?”

“If it saves the lives of innocents.”

“If it makes you guilty?”

“It’s for a good cause. You’re not guilty.”

“I think you are.” Jon says. “I don’t think there’s any good reason to sacrifice peace.” He sighs. “That’s… one of the virtues I’ve been considering the most. In human history, who are the most renowned champions for change? Who do we consider to have made the most difference for the better?”

Tikki’s eyes flash with something akin to recognition. “I think of Jeanne d’Arc. Joan of Arc, I think you call her.”

“I think of Martin Luther King Jr. Ghandi.” Jon says. “Those people changed the world with a principle of nonviolence. That proves it can be done.”

“In some situations. Most situations, I agree. But there are times when there’s no choice but to fight.”

Marinette shifts under Tikki’s gaze, as does Jon, but Jon, for now, at least, doesn’t back down. No matter how doubtful the expression on his face appears. “And we can drop our principles just like that? What value do principles have if we can ignore them whenever they don’t help us?”

“They still guide you. They give you something to fight for. They’re what you win for.”

Jon takes a deep breath. “I can’t accept that. Fighting in the name of peace is stupid. And it makes you a hypocrite. Fighting is fighting. Simple as that.”

“So in the name of peace, you would stand by and let a tyrant harm innocents?” Tikki frowns, and looks between Jon and Marinette for a moment. “I know you both have decided to give up on being heroes. But heroes are still important. Everyone has a responsibility to do what they can for the people around them. That includes fighting for those who can’t fight for themselves. And if the villain doesn’t give you any other choice, it may even include going to battle for them. I don’t think peace means nonviolence. I think it means balance. And the ever-shifting balance is a constant battle to maintain.”

“You expect us to sacrifice ourselves and our ideals for people who don’t even see us as people?” Jon mutters. “Just because we can?”

“The virtue of altruism.” Tikki says.

Jon takes another deep breath. “You expect too much of us.”

“I don’t think so. I think you’re more than capable. You’re both wonderful heroes. And it’s true that it’s hard. Sometimes, you need to take a break, and that’s okay. You have to take care of yourselves, too, or you won’t be able to save anyone. But people do rely on you. Just think about it.”

Jon huffs quietly. “Like I ever stop.” Marinette flinches at his words because she can relate. Even a year out, it’s hard to ignore how many people she might be helping. The more time passes, the more people go unaided because she made the choice to abandon her duties. And she feels guilty.

She doesn’t regret leaving, though. Yet that only makes her feel guiltier.

Marinette takes the earrings off eventually, tucking them back into a hidden corner, and she and Jon are in silence for a while. “I don’t think I really like Tikki that much.” Jon says.

Marinette grimaces. “No?”

“She kind of reminds me of Dad when he gets on my case about superhero responsibilities. He doesn’t do that anymore, since he’s accepted that I’m retired, but… I don’t really appreciate the lecture. No offense.”

“I understand.” Marinette says honestly. “Frankly, that’s part of the reason why I don’t have her out much. Part of it is just that wearing the earrings, having her around all the time, it reminds me of… everything. But another part is that she…” Marinette sighs. “I’m the guardian of the Miracle Box. It’s my duty to take care of all the kwami, not just her. And I’ve left the box with Chat Noir. I… don’t really want it back.”

Jon makes a face. “Yeah. Understandable.”

“To you.” Marinette laughs bitterly. “I think you’re the only one who actually understands. Everyone else is either waiting for me to come back or is supporting me despite not understanding.”

Jon chuckles as well, mirroring her. “I know that feeling. At least they are being supportive, right?”

“Yeah. They’re good friends.”

“The best.” Jon bites his lip and smiles. “Do you think you can just make Chat Noir the guardian?”

“I’ve thought about it.” Marinette sighs. “I told you what happened to the old guardian.”

Jon recoils. “Right. I remember now. You’d forget.”

“I’m tempted to do it.” Marinette says. “I can. Anytime I want. I just have to do it. Sometimes I think forgetting will be a good thing. If I do, I can finally just live a normal life and none of these responsibilities will be mine to worry about. I won’t even know they exist.”

Jon’s face is still contorted into a hurt, concerned grimace. “If you did… would you forget me? This?”

Marinette sighs. “I’m not sure. If we were just two university students rooming together, I’d say maybe not, but… I know you were Superboy, and you know about Ladybug, so… maybe it’s too intertwined with the Miraculous. It’s hard to tell. I’d for sure forget a lot of my friends back home. Honestly, it kind of scares me how tempting the offer of forgetting is despite all that. That’s part of what made me realize I needed to quit being Ladybug in the first place.” She chuckles. “It’s a bit of a red flag, isn’t it?”

“Hah, wow, yeah. I’d say so.”

Marinette breathes slowly. “Anyway. I know Tikki lectured us both a bit, but did you at least get anything out of it? For the… Girod?”

Jon smiles. “Yeah. I think I did. It was… interesting. Thanks for letting me talk to her.”

“No problem.” Marinette says. “I really should let her out more often, anyway.”

The first semester of their second year isn’t anything special, really. Marinette likes most of her classes, though there is, of course, the one that’s just a chore to get through. Jon is stressing over what his major is going to be, so she brainstorms with him sometimes, or just distracts him if he gets too deep into his own head.

By and large, they’re back to how they were before. Things are still a little tense sometimes, and in rare moments Superboy is all Marinette can see when she looks at him and her chest hurts a little, but she makes an effort, as does he, to spend time together. When they eat together at least once almost every day, study together (even if it’s just silently in the same room because of their different subjects), go out together in their free time, and just exist in such close proximity every day, it’s hard not to get used to each other.

And they’re friends. They’re close friends. Marinette is still small, cold, and trembling. The memory of hurt still frays her. But she’s slowly rising up. Things feel okay again, and Marinette thinks that if they can just keep this up, they’ll figure the rest out and they’ll be just fine.

And of course, she has to jinx it.

The phone call comes in at a surprisingly reasonable hour. Marinette is just sitting at her desk, scribbling away at an assignment when her phone starts buzzing. Marinette picks it up and feels her heart jump to her throat when she sees the name on the screen. Adrien.

It’s not that they don’t talk. They do. They’re still friends, and Adrien is still essentially acting as guardian in her stead, so they have to communicate to some degree. Even so, every time he calls and Marinette sees his name she gets dunked into an icy wave of guilt and regrets.

It’s not long until they’ve been single for a year now. And they’re both still trying to be strong. The worst of the pain has passed, but confronting him directly, even about unrelated topics, brings it back.

“Hello? What’s up?”

“Mari! Mari, I’m so sorry! I’m so, so, so, so, sorry! I don’t know how they got in! I swear, I keep it under lock and key; there’s no way they should have know-”

“Adrien, slow down.” Marinette says sharply. In person, and when they were together, this tone would always cut through his panic. Ground him, so that he can focus better. “What happened?”

“I went on patrol like I do every night.” He says. “But when I got back, the Miracle Box was gone. I don’t… I don’t even know who might have taken it! No one knows my identity; it wasn’t just a burglar – they left everything else. My lady, I don’t- I don’t know what to do here.”

Someone’s stolen the Miracle Box? Marinette feels a familiar cold weight inside of her. “What do you have to work with?”

“Myself, Queenie, and Viperion.” Adrien murmurs. “That’s it. And… and you.”

Marinette lets out a soft breath. This is… horrible news, but there is a bright side. “At least you have Viperion. That’s the most dangerous.” Marinette’s stomach turns. She wants to vomit, but instead she just curls forward over her desk and closes her eyes.

Part of her wants to ask why Chloé and Luka have Miraculous, but Adrien is the acting guardian, and she trusts his judgement. Whatever reason he has to give them the Miraculous again is none of her business. “Yeah, but…” Adrien says. “I’m scared. I let you down, and now who knows where the Miraculous are? What if we get another Hawk Moth?”

“Then you’ll stop them.” Marinette says. She tries her best to sound confident. “And you won’t have to wonder who broke in.”

“Who could it be?” Adrien’s voice is tight and desperate. “They had to know who I am and that I’d be out!”

“You have a regular schedule, Adrien, it’s not hard to predict when you’re patrolling.” Marinette says. “But you’re right, they probably know your identity. That narrows down the options.”

“But no one who knows would do this. I won’t believe one of our friends took the box.”

“You’re forgetting someone.” Marinette says. “She found out your identity the same time your father did.”

“…Nathalie.” Adrien’s voice flattens out and turns dark. “Why now?”

“Because you weren’t expecting it. She never would have pulled it off right after Gabriel was arrested.”

Adrien takes a long breath. “At least we have an idea of what we’re dealing with. Thank you, my lady. I’m sorry I let you down.”

Marinette still feels sick, but she has the advantage of being an ocean away. Adrien might still be able to tell how she truly feels, but she thinks she controls her voice pretty well. “You haven’t. No one could have predicted she’d strike now.”

He hums softly. “I’m going to find her. I’ll find her and get the Miraculous back. I promise.”

“Adrien…” Marinette sighs. “I’m not the one you need to make that promise to. That’s not my life anymore.”

“Right.” He sounds a little choked, but he recovers quickly. “I need to call the team. I’ll keep you updated. See you soon, Marinette.”

He hangs up, and Marinette bitterly hopes he doesn’t keep her updated. Calming down Adrien and thinking about who might have stolen the Miracle Box all makes Marinette feel like Ladybug again. It’s… nauseating. She feels guilty in equal parts for acting like she’s still a part of Adrien’s team and for feeling so awful about it.

I wonder if I should tell Jon about this. That idea, too, makes her feel guilty. Because she feels like a hero again when she’s on the phone with Adrien, and no matter how much she hates that feeling, the real guilt is in her hypocrisy. Will Jon agree that she didn’t really do anything? Or is it still too much. He wants to put the hero life behind him, too, and Marinette won’t allow her problems to drag him even tangentially back into it. That’s unfair to everyone.

Marinette won’t bother him with this. She can’t.

The days crawl by. Adrien texts her updates on the situation every now and then, but there’s not much to speak of. A week passes, then another, and then the thing Marinette fears most happens.

Mayura attacks. Marinette is an ocean away, living a different life, but suddenly she’s a fourteen-year-old girl again fighting battles much too big for her. She watches on her phone as Chat Noir and his team defeat the sentimonster, but their victory only hurts. The weight of it all crushes Marinette beneath it like she’s nothing more than an insect. It’s too familiar, too much the same as it was back then. Like she’s accomplished nothing. She did nothing as Ladybug, and she’s doing nothing now. Everything she’s ever done has resulted in failure.

So how can she hope for any different on her search for a normal life? Every time she thinks it’s within reach it’s violently pulled away from her like a rug under her feet. First, she finds out that the person she associates with her normal was a hero, then just as she’s recovering from that, all her accomplishments as a hero are essentially erased.

All because she abandoned her duty. The only reason Nathalie is able to steal the Miracle Box is because it is left in Paris with Adrien. If Marinette hadn’t abandoned her duties, hadn’t turned her back on her role as guardian, then they wouldn’t be in this mess. It’s her fault, and now she’s an ocean away while the people she loves fight to fix it.

Marinette doesn’t want to be a hero again. She hates Ladybug. She hates being the only thing between the world and destruction. The only thing between a villain and tragedy. She’s not Superman, or even Chat Noir. She doesn’t have that kind of strength.

She’s too selfish, and too weak.

But Adrien asks her to.

It’s during the break, not long after she gets back to Paris. Adrien begs her to fight with him again. “I can’t do this without you, my lady.” He pleads. “I need you.”

“I’m not a hero anymore, Adrien.” Marinette says. “I brought the earrings. You can find another Ladybug. That’ll minimize the damage. You can do it.”

“I can’t. We’re fighting Nathalie. You were always my rock, Marinette. You’re the only reason I could fight my father. I need you. Not any Ladybug, you.”

Marinette grits her teeth. “I’ve been trying for over a year now to live a normal life.” Marinette says quietly. “You’re asking me to give that up.”

“I know.” He covers his face. He doesn’t want her to see that he’s crying, but he can’t hide it from her. He can’t hide anything from her. “I’m sorry. But I don’t have any other choice.”

“You’re the hero, Adrien. Not me. This? Right here? This is exactly why I quit. I’m sorry, I can’t help you.”

And she means it. She means it with every fiber of her being. But when Mayura gets the upper hand, when Viperion is taken out in almost the first strike, when Queen Bee is battered and unmoving a mile away, Tikki is pleading, and Chat Noir has that look in his eyes that Marinette is too familiar with, there’s no other choice.

She throws a blanket over her mirror, ducks beneath her shame, and shakily says, “Tikki, transform me.”

——-=——-

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[writingawaymylife]

Dance Around - Jump Forward Part 1

I’m back! And this time with an entirely new obsession. 

Death Stranding has become one of my favorite games at the moment, and I’m really loving (most) of the characters. Higgs is probably my favorite, just because he is so, personally, fascinating. He is also voiced by Troy Baker, who, if you don’t know, if an exceptionally talented voice actor who played Joel in The Last of Us.

I got this entire story from an ask that @dirty-higgs-confessions had gotten a week or so back, it was meant to be more a humorous idea, but I’ve always loved my angst.

Also! Please help me out with this! If there’s something that seems off (especially with Higgs’ character), go ahead and tell me! I really want to write him properly, and while I’m going to be writing a lot for him because of that, any help is always appreciated :)

Please Enjoy - Dance Around - Jump Forward Part 1

Warnings - Swearing, Higgs

Words - 3461 (10 google doc pages)

          The Death Stranding left most people with a type of pain indescribable. Everything that kept people going in life - everything that people held dear - was ripped away in the blink of an eye. Snap. Boom. Explosion after explosion decimated the world to nothing but a foreign wasteland. Warping it into some alien planet and forcing the people inhabiting it to adapt without a moments notice. Then, before anyone could even begin to unwrap the baggage they were given, humanity began to tear at the seams. People became distant, cold - hiding away from the world that had turned its back on them as well. 

The people that were born after the Stranding? They didn’t have it any better either. Parents who were unable to deal with their own mental health, weren’t able to give their children what they needed to flourish. The people who tried to keep everything together and tied with a neat bow crumbled as well, until only a few scrambled to keep the pieces in the same box.

Vulnerability had become a weakness. Caring for people risked more weight to be added to one’s shoulders. Emotions were buried somewhere deep and desolate, covered in chains and locks. Sealed shut in a place no one would be able to reach. 

In the end, feeling nothing was easier than the dawning realization that followed when coming to the sudden, and harsh, realization that everything was eventually going to crumble to dust. 

It was bleak, depressing, but to most of all, it was the only way to survive. 

Emotions were unreliable. They didn’t help people to survive. If anything - they were the reason for countless, and avoidable, deaths. Sentiment and heroism only served to cloud their judgment, and left them vulnerable to more pain than what they had already experienced  - more than ever they needed or deserved.

(Y/N) was taught this as soon as they could understand words, the ideologies were pounded into their mind until it became a mantra they repeated over and over again, often when even the mere thought of becoming something more than a passerby - a stranger to all - crossed their minds. 

Though it was lonely it was also safe. They had learned the repercussions of having connections long ago.

That’s why when Higgs came into their life, they had tried to damnedest to not let the craving for the attention, for that bloody connection, get in the way of the logical choice. He was nothing more than another passerby, bound to leave one way or another. 

The occurrence of their connection was unplanned - just a mere result. (Y/N) had just very thoroughly taught a camp of Homo Demens that they weren’t one to be fucked with. No one was dead, but to say (Y/N) went easy on them would be a laughable. Higgs had appeared, ready to make an example of them, when, for some peculiar reason he couldn’t quite point out if asked, he had changed his mind. 

They were entertaining, didn’t blink an eye when he tried to scare them, only gave him a blank stare before continuing to walk passed him. Whatever threats he threw their way, (Y/N) would just clench their jaw and continue on with whatever they were doing.  They hadn’t even blinked an eye when he summoned some BTs, only a tilt of the head before looking him dead in the eye and challenging him. 

“Do it.” They had said it casually, as if they weren’t asking him to feed them to BTs. As if they weren’t asking him to do the one thing everybody fears the most. 

From then on he made it his mission to bother them, drive them up the wall whenever he decided he was bored and needed some sustenance. (Y/N) had almost throttled him for the number of times he had said just the right nerve to get them furious. Higgs seemed to enjoy the red hot rage he initiated whenever he spoke. 

They danced around each other, thinly veiled threats and insults thrown both ways at every possibly turn. 

Neither knew when those insults slowly became warm and endearing, - hell, (Y/N) didn’t know how Stalker, a nickname they gave him after he found them for the fifteenth time that month, stopped being thrown in hopes of him leave them alone. 

Soon those dances - those shared moments and conversations turned into something more. Something that became convoluted yet oh so simple as the months rolled by.

If (Y/N) had to pin the true emergence of these feelings, or whatever they thought they were, to one time, it would be when he appeared in their shelter. Zapping in without a moments notice, leaning against the kitchen island with his hands gripping the countertop. He looked weary. Shoulders didn’t hold nearly as much of the strength and arrogant cockiness that they always held. The bags under his eyes seemed darker, heavier. The smile on his face, one that made (Y/N) to feel far too many emotions for them to process, was fleeting and distant. He looked like a ghost of his true self.  

His teases didn’t hold nearly as much mirth to them, either He looked… conflicted. Like something dark and heavy was weighing on his mind, encircling it in a cloud he just couldn’t shake off. Hell, even when he called them “darlin’”, it seemed to come out with less of an expectation for some threat or insult to be thrown back, and more… (Y/N) stopped that train of thought before it could go any further.

“The fuck are you doing here, Stalker?” Their words came out harsh, but more out of playing the act than actually trying to be hostile. Higgs gave a soft, flat chuckle and a shake of his head. He gave a quick grin, though forced, and throw a jab their way, again, forcefully. 

“Oh, nothing really,” He started, hands falling from the counter and sliding into his pockets. “Just came to see how my favourite ball of joy was doing, Darlin’.” He gave a quick wink, but it only took a few seconds before (Y/N) could see the smile was growing heavy on him. They would have thrown something back had it not been for the way his eyes left theirs to navigate the house. It was if he knew that they could sense something was wrong, and couldn’t bare to see the realization kick into their eyes.

There was silence for a few minutes. Not tense, but definitely not comfortable either. (Y/N) realized he wasn’t going to explain why he was actually here, not anytime soon. It was a mystery, just like the rest of him. An enigma that (Y/N) had a hard time not finding fascinating. They always wondered what thoughts went trailing through his head. What he was thinking in those moments when the two talked. 

What he was thinking when he decided to cause tragedy after tragedy.

There was a tinge of frustration in their chest when they realized that he was just going to stay quiet. At this point, however, they knew they shouldn’t have been surprised. Higgs had a near phobia of vulnerability, a fear that they couldn’t blame him for having. Not when they felt the exact same way. He was definitely not going to be telling them anything even relatively emotional anytime soon, not without prying his walls open with selfish claws. Though (Y/N) wanted to ask, it was obvious that interrogating wasn’t going to do anything other than push him away.

On top of it all, for some reason, a part of them would much rather have been welcomed a look inside his mind on his own time. Given a key to roam the wings of his mind instead of forcing themselves in. He was a strong man, no doubt. But they could tell that he could breakdown so easily if someone was given the right route to the safe where he kept his emotions.

(Y/N) gave him a soft smile as they walked past him into the kitchen. They made sure to give his shoulder to lightest of nudges with theirs. “How about a drink?”

Things changed after that. Though, not entirely for the worse. 

Including the numerous times he would blip into their life on the road, there were the nights when he would appear in (Y/N)’s bunker. Often in an array of different moods, sometimes he would be like the first time he came, and other times seemed to be because he actually just… missed them - though both knew he would never say that. 

It turned into a schedule eventually. Every second weekend, if not every single one, for a night of just talking. Discussing anything that came to mind and sharing stupid stories and theories. (Y/N) would be lying if they said that those nights weren’t their favourite. It made their weeks just a little more tolerable. 

Now, (Y/N) was never one for believing in permanent bonds with people. People came and went - that was that. They had learned enough about that from their times out in this nearly dystopian world. But with each time they talked to Higgs, the strand between them seemed to grow stronger. Intertwining and making it more difficult for them to be apart the longer they were together.

Though neither of the two admitted it, though neither believed the other truly felt the same, the connection they had created seemed unbreakable. 

Then…

Then everything came crashing down. 

Quick and harsh. A whirlwind of events that had everything (Y/N) had built with Higgs slowly fall apart. 

“What the fuck do you mean you can’t “deal” with me anymore!?” (Y/N)’s voice rang out through the shelter. Arms opened in exasperation, eyes wide with confusion and thinly veiled fear.

“Exactly what it means, Darlin’.” His mask was on. Voice muffled from the thick plastic and chiralium mask. They couldn’t remember the last time he wore that around them, or bring up anytime when he wore it inside (Y/N)’s bunker.  “I’ve got more important problems.”  His shoulders moved up in a jagged shrug. It felt so casual, as if he hadn’t just broken their heart in seconds like it was nothing.

As if everything the two had built was nothing.

As if (Y/N) was nothing. 

Finally, the emotions were coming to the surface. Among the toxic brew of shock, anger, resentment, and fear, there was this sickening - overwhelmingly painful emergence of fucking love. Strong and potent and they were amazed this was the first time they had genuinely, truly noticed it.

“So-so what? You’re just going to act like we don’t have anything between us? Like this was nothing more than a way to pass the fucking time!?” (Y/N)’s voice was getting louder, and it took everything in them to not let that crack at the end become something worse. They were not going to meltdown now. 

There was a thick silence in the air, and (Y/N) could have sworn his shoulders tensed just slightly before he straightened to his full height and took a step forward, menacingly, as if hoping to intimidate the only person who had never once been scared of him. 

“Oh?” His head tilted and the chuckle he let out was most definitely condescending. (Y/N) could almost feel the kind of grin he had on his face. The one he used just before he said something stupid.  “And just what did you think this was?” He was mocking them now. A deep, resounding chuckle filled the new found emptiness as he shook his head. “You didn’t truly think that I, Higgs, the particle of God that permeates all of existence would feel sentiment towards you? A half-decent porter with attachment issues?”

There was no way to stop the shuddering breath that escaped after that.

“... Fuck…” (Y/N) hissed under their breath, cursing the tears that were slipping from their traitors of eyes. They looked down, unable to look at that mask anymore, and pinched the bridge of their nose. They hoped this wasn’t true. That Higgs was panicking and running away or-or trying to protect them in some pathetic and dreadful way. 

It was all too much to handle, and the pain growing in their chest turned into what they imagined placing hot coal on top of their heart would feel like. Boiling the blood in their veins as they looked up with what must have been the sourest look they had given him. 

There was no way they were going to let him treat them like this, no way they were going to believe these disgusting lies when the past two months had been something utterly different from any other time in their relationship.  They took a step forward, looking up at him with a jutted chin and clenched jaw, challenging him.

“So. What now? Are you going to kill me?” (Y/N) took another shaky step forward. “Let my body rot and necrotize? Cause a voidout because that’s what fucking terrorists do?”

Higgs froze at that. Shoulders tightening up yet again, like iron coils twisting just before they were about to snap. 

The question hung in the air.

“If I’m of no use to you anymore, it would only make sense, wouldn’t it?”

(Y/N) was about to let a small laugh out, a sigh of relief, after he didn’t reply. They opened their mouth, about to explain to him just what he did and how stupid it was for him to push away the only person who cared so much for him, but he jumped before they could. Black specks chiralium hanging in the air. A second later the sound of him jumping back into existence appeared. He was behind them now, threateningly close as an arm wrapped around their waist and pressed them against him. His breath ghosted their neck as he let out a breathy chuckle. His composure was back and in full force, and for once - just this once, (Y/N) felt a cold shiver run up their spine.

“You would like to think that, wouldn’t you, Darlin’? His arm tightened as if showing that it would be so easy to end them right then and there. “But… here’s the thing, Sugar. Those DOOMs that you’ve been trying to keep quiet this entire time? They’ll come in handy one day. And when they do, I’ll be right there to use them up.”

Then…

Then he disappeared. 

(Y/N) stood in that spot for what felt like hours. Flatlined, numb. 

It took weeks before they were able to get out of the shelter. 

“Thank you. So much.” The Engineers’ hologram gave a kind smile and a wave. Checking over the body achingly heavy supplies (Y/N) had just lugged all the way from the Distribution Center South of Lake Knot City. They were just appreciative of the truck they had gotten. It would have never been capable of doing so with out it, admittedly. They were no Sam Porter - though, at this point, that man was most definitely not human. 

“No problem, man. Just doing my job.” (Y/N) tried to sound nice, giving a tight smile before he fizzled out of existence and (Y/N)’s rating came up. In all honesty, however, their mind was elsewhere. Thinking of someone who for the past month continued to find his way into their train of thoughts.

Higgs

(Y/N) missed him so much. It felt like another part of their heart had been torn off. It should have been just another name to add to the list of people they lost, should have just given them another reason why you never get attached. What shouldn’t have been happening was the bone marrow deep aching like a part of them had been torn away from them. It brought back painful memories, ones they had sealed in a part of their mind, buried in the deepest grave possible. 

It was an ache that almost made them concerned enough to go to a doctor. Deep and hallow, and there was no fucking way to ignore it. Booze, cigarettes, weed - whatever they could get their hands on, the feelings wouldn’t go away. It was so stupid to fall down that hole when (Y/N) and Higgs hadn’t even been a thing - hell, they hadn’t even discussed if they were friends or not. 

The self pity and debilitating heartbreak lasted three or so weeks before (Y/N) forced themselves into a shower. Shucking on clean clothing and the white porter suit and getting back to doing orders again. 

It felt nice. Being clear-headed (to some degree) and having fresh air to help them think more level headedly (just barely). But even thinking his name caused a lump in their throat. 

They should have been relieved to have him gone. He was a fucking terrorist. He killed people just to make a stupid statement.  He didn’t even blink while doing so either, just did it. Along with that? If someone found out (Y/N) had known him, and willingly hung out with him, and had not said anything to authorities, (Y/N) would have been in a world of trouble. 

Even with all this, they couldn’t help but still miss him and his stupid smile. It almost disgusted them, to care about someone like that, though emotions honestly had a mind of their own, it was still something (Y/N) should have controlled, just like they had with everyone else. 

They kicked a rock on their way back to the truck. Head shaking and staring up at the clear blue sky with a harsh and resentful glare. 

“Common, (Y/N). Out of anyone you’ve gotten attached to, the terrorist - a bloody monster - shouldn’t be one of them. He’s hurt people, he’s probably continuing to hurt people as you give yourself this pathetic pep talk!” They didn’t even realize they had finished the sentence with a yell as they jumped into their black truck. They looked up at the rearview window, into their own eyes with the same cold glare. “You really are a fool, you know that? How about next time you go fuck a MULE?” A groan left their lips as tears started prickling at their eyes, and eventually, they had to look away, proceeding to lightly bump their forehead against the steering wheel as light sobs racked their bodies. 

They really did love him… There was no other way to look at this. (Y/N) loved him with their entire being, and there was no way to get rid of these emotions. 

That night, as (Y/N) fell asleep in their disheveled bed without even trying to get their clothes off, they had their first dream in months. 

It started black. Pitch black with no sound, no anything. But (Y/N) knew they were conscious to some degree. Floating in a void that brought back memories they didn’t want to think about. 

The sounds appeared first. Soft waves crashing against the sand followed by the crying of seagulls and the distant rumbling of a storm. Next was a smell. Ozone with a hint of rotting corpses and the churning saltiness of a polluted sea. 

After the gag reflex disappears, sight brought all the puzzle pieces together. 

(Y/N) was on the Beach. Or, at least a Beach. 

Beached Whales littered the Beach ahead of them, and when squinting and peaking through them, (Y/N) could see the ocean licking at the sand. 

Awe. 

That’s what they felt. Incomprehensible awe at the sight before them. It was all so real. Vivid and hauntingly beautiful. (Y/N) didn’t know whether to be scared or excited over the prospect of actually seeing this. 

The anxiety seemed to rear its head quite quickly afterwards. The tiny voice in the back of their head tried to explain that this might very well be theirs. That they had died for some reason. And with that came the panic of realizing that they would then be necrotizing - that they would cause a voidout. 

A hand landing softly on their shoulder, eliciting indignant squawk that (Y/N) would have been more than embarrassed at, had they not just been scared out of their skin and clean pants.

“What the fuck?” The shout stopped when they turned around. Ending with a gasp as they took a quick step back and looked over the person in front of them. 

What the fuck indeed. 

There was a silence in the air for a second, before the woman gave a soft, comforting smile. 

“It’s okay. You don’t have to be afraid. I just came to talk.”