#i tried to find the right voice but nothing could really capture that absurd high pitch voice i was imagining

[bugdogg]

lazy ms paint doodles to go w it. Mizuki's voice can go both ways but I still wanted to specify their voice is higher pitch as an adult and they speak a lot more "cutely". But when being serious, their voice tends to deepen.

Also I couldn't handle looking for voices w so many specific things in mind anymore, so please note Mizuki speaks a lot quieter than in these clips, they struggle to raise it especially in their adulthood.

[somanyfuckedupiftruebooks]

JonMartin Week 2022

Day 4: Divinity/Red String of Fate

Read it on AO3 here!

Warnings for sexual content (mostly descriptions/discussion of sexual attraction and arousal). It is not explicit, with no depicted sex acts or descriptions of genitalia. 

'Ceaseless Watcher, turn your gaze upon this wretched thing!'

The words were still ringing in Martin's mind hours (Had it been hours? Minutes? This whole 'time doesn't exist anymore' thing was really inconvenient) later as he followed Jon through a seemingly desolate stretch of wasteland. He couldn't stop picturing the way Jon had looked as he stared down the nightmare monster wearing their dead friend's stolen face and just… fucking smote it.

It was an image he longed to capture in a poem, but Martin knew he would never be able to find words that were evocative enough for that. How could he possibly describe the way that Jon had seemed to radiate divine might? It was like nothing Martin had ever seen before. Jon had been resplendent, with his long grey-streaked hair whipping around him as though caught in a vortex of his own power. Eyes had opened everywhere; not just in Jon's skin, but in the air itself, creating a glowing green halo all around him. It had seemed almost effortless, the way Jon simply shredded the NotThem into nothing like a goddamn avenging angel.

And witnessing this terrible, glorious act, something low and hot had uncoiled itself in Martin's gut.

The Carousel was far behind them now. Jon, drained and maybe even a little scared by what he had done, had been eager to move on quickly and had hurried them away before Martin had time to process what he had seen. Both of them were recovered now, Jon from whatever toll Beholding had taken from him in exchange for that display of power, and Martin from the giddy rush of seeing his boyfriend utterly obliterate someone. Unfortunately, the low deep heat inside of Martin had only become more insistent, continuing to demand his attention despite his attempts to ignore it.

Oh for fuck's sake. Martin had been in a lot of absurd situations in the past few years, but this was just ridiculous, not to mention inappropriate.

As though hearing that thought (good lord Martin hoped Jon wasn't listening in to his thoughts right now), Jon caught Martin's hand and brought them both to a halt.

'We… should probably talk about what happened,' Jon said, not meeting Martin's eyes.

'Now?' Hearing how high pitched and squeaky his voice sounded, Martin cleared his throat before continuing. 'I don't think we need to dwell on it right this second.'

'I just… things got a little, um, intense back there, and I just want to make sure you're doing okay,' Jon said.

'Me? I'm fine! Just, you know, really … normal.'

'Really normal,' Jon repeated.

Martin nodded. 'Yep! Let's keep going!'

Martin tried to keep walking but Jon stayed in place, pulling Martin back by their joined hands.

'Martin, just– wait, please. What's wrong?'

Jon must have felt the static rise behind those last words too late to stop himself from speaking. His eyes widened as, gripped by compulsion, Martin answered immediately.

'I can't stop picturing the way you looked when you killed–' he said, before yanking his hand out of Jon's grip and clapping it over his mouth. The rest of his answer was muffled and unintelligible.

'Martin, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to!' Jon cried.

'Don't do that!' Martin snapped, as soon as he could speak normally again.

'It was an accident!'

'I know it was, just– be careful!' Martin took a deep breath before continuing. 'I apologise for snapping at you. Can we please drop this?'

'I'm sorry, I just– I can't handle you being afraid of me–'

Martin rolled his eyes. 'I'm not afraid of you just because you asked me a question.'

'No, I mean…' Jon gestured helplessly back in the direction of the Carousel. 'You saw me murder someone, of course you're afraid.'

'Oh! No, that's no big deal.' Martin saw that Jon didn't believe him, so he took Jon's hands again and raised them to his lips, pressing a kiss against the knuckles of Jon's burned hand. 'As far as I'm concerned, that thing got exactly what it deserved. I'm not afraid of you, I promise.'

'Are you s–' Jon began, before catching himself and starting over. 'I would like to know how certain you are of that.'

'Oh Jon. Come here.' Almost overcome with a mix of fondness and exasperation, Martin pulled Jon into a firm hug and rested his cheek on top of Jon's head. 'I am absolutely, positively, one hundred and ten percent certain that I am not afraid of you.'

Jon said something muffled into Martin's sweater. It sounded like 'It's not possible to be more than one hundred percent' so Martin ignored him.

'Am I afraid for you? Yes, absolutely, terrified constantly and forever. But of you? Never. Not even a little bit.'

Jon didn't reply, he just held the hug for several long seconds. Finally he let Martin go, frowning slightly.

'But if you're not afraid, then what is–'

Thinking only of cutting Jon off before he could finish asking another question, Martin loudly and foolishly said, 'It's not like fear is the only reaction people have to displays of power.'

Oh no, Martin thought, as Jon's eyes narrowed and his all-seeing gaze focused entirely on Martin. Why would I say that? What's wrong with me?  

Honestly, by this point Martin really should know better than to be vague in front of Jonathan Sims, otherwise known as The Man Who Is Utterly Incapable Of Ever Letting One Single Thing Go.

'I'm not sure what you mean by that,' Jon said curiously.

'I don't mean anything by it, let's just go already.'

Martin tried to walk away again, and this time Jon did allow himself to be pulled along by the hand. He followed Martin quietly for a few seconds(?) before speaking again.

'Upset,' Jon said.

'What?'

'Upset. That's a reaction someone might have to a display of power.'

'Oh for– I am not upset,' Martin said, 'and you better not start Looking in my head or trying to Know things about me.'

'I won't,' Jon promised. 'I can figure this out on my own.'

'No! There's nothing to figure out. We're not playing the "Guess Martin's Emotional State" game.'

'Hmm… confusion.'

'No.'

'Anger.'

'I am not angry!' Martin said angrily. 'But I will be if you don't give it up. Stop guessing.'

Jon squeezed Martin's hand as if to reassure him, but Martin knew that was bullshit. Jon was frowning in the way he did when he was puzzling his way through some new mystery, and seemed to have completely forgotten that Martin couldn't actually lead their way through the domains.

Whatever. He would just aim them towards the Panopticon on the horizon and eventually they would stumble upon some new horror and Jon would have to stop to make another statement about it and everyone would forget about this whole thing. It would be fine.

In the tone of voice one might use to cry 'Eureka!' Jon suddenly announced, 'Oh! Arousal!'

Martin groaned and buried his now burning face in his hands.

This seemed to remind Jon of the implications of his realisation.

'Oh,' he repeated, in a much lower tone of voice. 'That's why you were acting… differently.'

'This is the most humiliating moment of my life,' Martin said into his hands.

'I don't see why that would be the case,' Jon said, sounding simultaneously more euphoric and more unbearably smug than Martin had ever heard him sound. 'You just think I'm… sexy.'

'Yes, Jon!' Martin snaps again, throwing his hand up in the air with exasperation. 'Obviously I think my boyfriend smiting our enemies out of existence with his awesome divine power is sexy!'

Jon laughed, and stretched up onto his toes to kiss Martin on the cheek, which Martin allowed despite his embarrassment.

'So... do you want to–? I mean, uh, you could … do something about it…' Jon said.

'Like what?!' The words burst out of Martin in an undignified squwak.

'I don't know! Whatever you're comfortable with, I suppose,' Jon said. 'I'm sure there's something that you would normally do in these circumstances.'

'It doesn't matter what I would normally do, we're in the middle of a wasteland of unending nightmares,' Martin said hotly.

Jon just shrugged. 'There's no one around.'

Martin stared at him incredulously. Then, without saying anything, he raised one arm and indicated to the entire expanse of the unblinking sky above them. Then he lowered that same arm and pointed towards the Panopticon in the distance.

'Well obviously those don't count,' Jon said.

'What do you mean they don't count?!' Martin demanded. 'How could they not count?!'

'Fine, if you don't want to be exposed, I can look for somewhere that feels more private,' Jon said, scanning the area around them.

'No, Jon, oh my god, I don't want you to go looking for some sort of … terrifying apocalypse closet where I can jack off,' Martin said. 'Please just stop it. It's fine. I am a grown man, I can deal with being turned on and not doing anything about it.'

'Well, if you're certain. I just don't want you to feel uncomfortable.' Jon's voice took on a distinctly teasing edge as he spoke. 'You know, because you can't handle how sexy I am.'

'Oh, trust me, I can handle it just fine,' Martin said, rolling his eyes.

'Okay, well you do that then.'

'I will!' Martin said indignantly. 'Now can we please stop talking about it and move on? It's really not fair to pick on me when you don't have to deal with this.'

'Alright, I'll drop it for now.' There was a bounce to Jon's steps as he moved ahead and resumed leading their way. 'But you have to promise to tell me more later about how you think I'm so sexy when I'm looking people to death.'

'For the record, I also thought you were sexy before you had powers nigh unto a god.'

And I will again, Martin thought, as Jon turned back to grin at him like a smug idiot. Once we fix this and everything goes back to the way it was before.

@jonmartinweek

[wangshuus]

delicacy | diluc ragnvindr

pairing: yan!diluc ragnvindr/gn!reader

genre: psychological

cw: unhealthy relationship, mentions of forced marriage, ooc diluc (lol)

wc: 2.6k

summary: to diluc, you are a delicacy that he wishes to savour.

note: i’m sorry in advance my dear readers this is absolute dog water ajfhaiufhfui. this was just an experiment since i don’t think i’ve written a decent yandere ever and this kinda proves it but it’s ok i’ll get there one day. just take my ooc diluc. yes, i know i screwed up real bad on this one but let's just say i loosened a few screw for the sake of the plot,,,yeah,,,i’ll probably need to proof read this again too but its ok ahhhhh.

“It’s useless to keep tugging at those binds. You know they won’t come off unless I take them off myself. Now, be good and sit still.” You heard a familiar voice. 

It was once a voice that you were delighted to hear but now the very mention of the owner sent a wave of striking cold upon your body, ironic considering who it was. You had no idea where you were, what day it was, or what time it was. You were completely clueless, being stuck in a dark room with nothing but a bed in which you’ve been bound by the headboard. The room was concerningly chilly, the air in the room being crisp, cold and suffocating. The figure in the room made their way to the edge of the bed next to sit next to you. You felt a gloved hand place itself upon your cheek. It was so warm you almost wanted to lean into it but you refused to find comfort in the touch of your detainer.

You were but a simple bartender, loyal to working at the famous Angel’s Share in Mondstadt. You previously resided in Springvale with your parents but moved to the city due to your job. Your family lived a happy little life, not drowning in riches but being comfortable enough to sustain a plausible living. In your head, you were so painfully boring; so here lies the question, how exactly did you get into this situation? Not even you knew the answer but one thing that you could make sense of in the whole ordeal was that the main that stood in front of you was mad.

Diluc Ragnvindr has many titles ranging from the renowned owner of the Dawn Winery to one of Mondstadt’s most esteemed bachelors. He claimed such a high and mighty reputation that no one would’ve guessed the devious intents hidden in the back of his head. Yes, you were a mere bartender that worked under him at his own tavern but ever since you were hired, he felt something stirring up within him. Now you see, Diluc wasn’t someone that you would find chasing after anyone in fact, he’s never chased after anyone at all until he met you. He was confused at first why he started feeling the way that he did when you were around, unfamiliar emotions began to bubble inside of him.

You were just so easy to talk to, so charming, so comforting, a breath of fresh air to him, truly. At first, he assumed it would be nothing but a short lived infatuation, expecting for his feeling to dissipate like a dying flame in a matter of time but this flame only burned bigger, brighter, and belligerent as the days passed. Diluc wasn’t exactly sure how his feelings came to be. Perhaps it was due to the loss, betrayal and tragedy that stained his past. Maybe it was his longing to be loved again, to hold someone close and never let go, or to have someone hold him and allow him to bask in the feeling of being lovingly embraced-- which was a feeling that became painfully foreign to him.

It had been so long since he found comfort in anything or anyone, becoming accustomed to being isolated, building up walls to keep everyone out and away. He had no one left to care for and presumably no one left to care for him, making the pyro wielder take on such an aloof personality. After his whole ordeal, he was never truly the same, so to see him look genuinely pleased by someone was such a shock to the public eye. Of course, you had come to enjoy Diluc’s presence as he stopped by the tavern fairly often to check up on the flow of business and you had the chance to talk to him during his visits. You had heard from others that the young man was awfully reserved and indifferent towards any subject matter but he was seemingly interested in any conversation between the two of you, even partaking in the act of idle-chit chat as a means to continue talking to you. Anything for you.

He was greatly enamoured by you; everything about you. He’s taken every second he could to observe you and your nature, falling in love with the little things about you from the way you brightened up the room with your cheerful demeanour, the way you gracefully made your way across the tavern during, the way your eyes twinkled when you were talking about him about something you loved--archons the way he wished for you to only look at him with those eyes full of an enthusiastic sparkle. He wanted that; and he wanted it all for himself. Once he realized this was the case, he went through a spiralling hole of madness. He found himself being obsessive with looking out for you, going above and beyond by following you in the shadows every chance he could get, his self control on his possessiveness running as thin as a strand of hair. 

Diluc was scary to say the least. His ability to deceive people into thinking he was still the reserved yet distinguished gentleman while he was falling into a pit of insanity was nothing short of terrifying. He remained unsuspecting and planned to keep it that way, deeming himself capable of being able to resist his maniacal urges. All until one conversation between the two. You had mentioned that your family had begun to run into a few financial problems, becoming entangled in a circle of debt. You had concluded that though you loved what you were doing, it couldn’t have been enough to support your situation so you had conversed with Diluc about going to Liyue to find extra work. All you knew was that there was a high chance you couldn’t stay grounded at the tavern forever, even rejecting Diluc’s offer of a raise, deeming that you didn’t deserve it and did not wish to trouble him. You saw this as a good opportunity to explore beyond the land of the wind that you had ironically been grounded at your entire life. 

Oh no no no, this couldn’t happen. He wouldn’t allow it to happen. And that’s when he snapped. 

Diluc’s mind worked quickly as he devised a dubious plan to keep you grounded. He knew what you were like; he knew you would be stubborn and go. He saw that shine of determination in your eyes when you mentioned your plans of fleeing Mondstadt, the same shine that he wanted to capture and keep for himself and oh boy, he was gonna have it. The next time you saw him, he had personally invited you to a party that he said he was hosting. You found it quite surprising since it was a rarity for him to ever host a party considering his nature but you accepted nonetheless. You trusted Diluc enough and besides, who would deny an invitation from someone like him. Little did you know, this was quite possibly one of the worst decisions you’ve made in your entire life.

“Dear, you’re spacing out again.” He spoke, a foreign tone that sounded so sickly sweet to a point where you wanted to hurl. 

“Please don’t address me as such. You’re twisted for doing this. What do you even want from me? Huh? I can’t offer you anything so this is nothing but a waste of time.” You spat at him, harshly pulling your cheek away from his grasp. 

“Your presence alone is enough to satisfy me. Also, I’d appreciate it if you stopped acting disobedient before I really lose my patience. I’ve been so patient with you, do you know that? I’ve been waiting for ages to have you all to myself like this but…” He paused for a moment.

“I was far too nice and considerate of your freedom. To think I’d let you leave just like that is absurd. That’s exactly why you’re here. I’d like to apologize in advance for tricking you into thinking there was an actual party, especially since you got all dressed up for me tonight but I believe this is quite the positive thing because now I’m the only one that gets to see you like this” He said as he gently lifted up a piece of fabric from your clothing.

“You wore the clothing I had custom made for you. I knew you would look ravishing in it. You’re my pretty little doll, aren’t you dear?” He said as he brought a piece up to his lips as they gently graced the smooth satin of your outfit. 

A strange package had made its way to your doorstep days before this treacherous evening. When opening it up, it was revealed to be a black and red outfit made of what felt like to be the finest fabrics and silk you’ve ever seen. The first time you tried it on, you felt ecstatic with being gifted to you, blushing to yourself over the fact that Diluc had gone out of his way to get you something this stunning. Now, you wanted nothing more than to rip the thing off your body and run away from the damned place you were held captive but you knew it was no use at this point. Your body shivered at the coldness of the room as it felt like the sheer cold was steadily increasing.

“You’re shivering. You’re cold aren’t you?” Diluc said, having the audacity to chuckle at your pathetic state. You stayed quiet, not wanting to admit or give into anything.

“No response? Oh well, it’ll only be a matter of time until the possibility of freezing to death becomes exceptionally high. I’d rather not have that happen so I’ll do you a favour since you happen to be a little shy isn’t that right? You don’t need to be shy with me. Come here.” He says as he draws closer to you. Your chains rattled while you attempted to put as much distance as you could between you two but it was no use. He swiftly wrapped his arms around you, one hand wrapped around your waist, the other at the back of your head, pulling you into the crook of his neck. Your hands pushed against his chest in a poor attempt to put as much distance between you and him but in the end, you couldn't bring yourself to. The coldness of the room significantly weakened you although it ceased when he held you, his body warmth being enough for him and yourself as well. You cursed the pyro wielder and his antics. He knew that you’d be freezing, seeing this as the perfect opportunity to get closer to you. Your arms fell back on to you sides 

“There you go, all relaxed now. See, nice and warm.” He cooed while stroking the back of your head lovingly. Although you were physically warm now, you still felt a shiver run down your spine at the touch of the pyro user.

“You’re sensitive to touch, how cute.” He stated before pulling away to look you in the eyes, the edges of his lips slightly upturned.

“On another note, I have some news to share with you.” He spoke out. Your eyebrows furrowed at the mention of more news, thinking there is no possible way that anything could get any worse; unfortunately, you were dead wrong.

“You see, I had the chance to speak with your parents the other day in regards to your financial situation. I explained to them that I was more than willing to help them but they became quite stubborn after I introduced my offer. I see where you get your stubbornness from now.” He sighed.

Your eyes widened, fear, anger and concern mixing in your (e/c) orbs. 

“Diluc, I swear to the archons what did you--.” He brought a finger up to your lips to hush you from your growing concern. 

“Hush now, there’s no need to get riled up, I’m not finished. Now quiet down and listen to me.” He stated.

“It was quite a simple offer I gave them, really. I would be a financial aid all in exchange for your hand in marriage. They started to get all defensive, claiming that they’d never marry off their child. They were oh so protective over you, but they could never come close to comparing to me.”

Dread and horror filled your eyes as you were rendered speechless, waves of unpleasant emotions washing over you like a tidal wave. 

“You see, it definitely took a lot of work to get where we are now, but you need not to worry, dear. They will not be of any concern to us anymore.” He said as a smile graced his features. You would’ve considered him to be handsome in the moment but the smile he held was so deranged that it was appalling. 

Tears welled up in your eyes, too afraid to even ask what happened to them or what became of them. You knew the situation; you knew the power that Diluc held. He was well aware of his looming power of you and he used it and abused it. It didn’t take very long for your tears to start streaming from your eyes as you began to sob, tears spilling onto your lap. Diluc cupped your face as he brushed away the oncoming tears that continued to overflow. 

“Shhh, don’t cry my dear, this news is excellent. I couldn't even fathom you getting hurt or even leaving me but I don’t have to worry now do I? Because you’re going to be all mine.” He said before forcibly kissing your tear-stained cheeks. 

You felt absolutely disgusting and embarrassed over the lips that graced your skin, having someone as unhinged and deranged as him seeing you in such a vulnerable and helpless state. 

“You know, I’ve had my fair share of people both leave and betray me.They’ve left me alone in this world but none of it matters now that I have you here. You’re the most divine person I’ve come across. So lovely, so warm, and so bright, like the rays of sunlight. I want to bask in your presence and now, I can for however long I’d like. I refuse to lose anyone else, especially not you and now this time, I know I won’t. If your freedom has to be sacrificed in order for you to stay alive, so be it. I’ll choose you the finest white attire for our special day. You’ll be me precious darling for the rest of your days. Doesn’t that sound lovely, dear?” You remained unresponsive.

One of his hands slipped past the fabric of your clothing as his gloved fingertips lightly pressed onto the bare small of your back, earning a yelp from you.

“I said doesn’t that sound lovely? Respond when spoken to. I want to hear your voice.” He said sternly. You managed to mumble out a small yes in return.

“That’s my good little darling.” He spoke before before he pulled you in for a kiss. You refused to return the action and it certainly didn’t go over his head. The hand that rested on the small of your back began to get hotter, feeling as if it was searing your skin, earning a shriek and a cry from you, allowing him to deepen his passion filled kiss, smirking at the way you’ve decided to submit yourself to him while his own lips remained locked with your own.

The land of Mondstadt was said to be the land of freedom and yet here you were, your fate bound and chained by the insanity disguised as love by Diluc Ragnvindr. You were a delicacy to him, and he’d be sure to savour every last bit of you. 

[metvmorqhoses]

i have a headcannon that voldemort never really “punishes” bella when she does something wrong, but his punishments to other death eaters are way way worse & so she’s obligated to act as if vold has given her a worse punishment than he actually has. not that she does a lot of things wrong as his “most faithful” though. i’m talking about the occasional slip up like the department of mysteries thing. had that been someone else, he probably would’ve harmed them more, let alone wouldn’t save then from some witch statue holding them down.

this is very true, anon. so true, in fact, i actually consider this much more a canon fact than mere speculation.

sorry if this is very long, but for every thousand of anti-bellamort idiots there must be a very precise bellamort’s defense attorney lol

correct me if i am wrong, but to my knowledge not once in the books a physical punishment coming from voldemort is ever mentioned in relation to bellatrix - and even if, let's be real, after his "rebirth" she became involved in literally the majority of the most crucial errors, the worst happenings ever, that ultimately brought to no less than his very downfall.

and yet, still, she came out of it all not only unscathed, but treated very specially.

even to a lazy reader, this should at least come across as peculiar.

let’s take the primary example of what i am saying, the battle of the department of mysteries.

just freed from azkaban and after being showered in honors and recognition, the first pivotal mission bellatrix was entrusted with was a damning fiasco.

true, it was not entirely her fault, lucius was in fact “in charge” of it, but let’s be real, do you really think voldemort sent his literal general with that malfoy dandy, his pupil, his most trusted and powerful lieutenant, just for company? just as a henchman? as i have always interpreted it, bellatrix was there to keep an eye on lucius, whose silver tongue was famously more apt to political plotting than to field missions.

voldemort wasn’t trusting lucius with the prophecy that had literally already meant almost death to him once, it would have been madness to. you can say anything about voldemort, but certainly not that he was an idiot.

i actually don’t think he ever trusted lucius at all. lucius had renounced him after his fall and didn’t manage to paint the fact as pragmatically as snape did, the cowardly aftertaste of his betrayal blatant and thoroughly disgusting on voldemort’s tongue. lucius’ status, family name, relations and wealth were just very useful for the movement and likely the only things that kept him in the high ranks of the regime (or alive at all) even before the fiasco, along with his marriage to bellatrix’s sister.

i am positive voldemort was in fact trusting bella to see the prophecy retrieved.

he probably didn’t officially put her in charge because she was still recovering from azkaban and therefore not completely stable or/and already with child (even if i tend to exclude the latter option, since she would have been still entirely too weak for a pregnancy to even take).

still, she was the one with the highest military rank there, not to mention the highest degree of closeness to voldemort, so you can bet she was the one that bore also the highest degree of moral obligation in that delicate situation. and she failed.

knowing voldemort, you would have expected to see killing curses flying left and right. had bellatrix been literally anyone else, she could have easily returned home to a murdered family and a pending death penalty.

instead, you see a voldemort that walks into the ministry of magic. you see a voldemort that, even already knowing the prophecy lost forever, renounces his every advantage and reveals himself once again to the wizarding world, moreover having to fight at the same time his very nemesis (nemesis that the mission should have helped him understand better and therefore defeat), dumbledore (the greatest wizard alive besides him) and soon the entirety of the aurors of britain.

what was exactly the reason that compelled him to enter such a nest of vipers, when he had been unwilling to do so in secrecy and surely in a highest degree of safety before and to retrieve the prophecy himself? to kill harry potter?

the very reason of the mission tells us he wasn’t sure about what to do with his potter dilemma and had therefore decided to have a more cautious, academical approach regarding the matter. he wanted to know the whole prophecy before trying again. he was frustrated and puzzled about harry’s absurd invincibility and insolent luck. do you really think he had decided to go for the hardest battle of his life unprepared and with dumbledore present of all people (whom he didn’t even directly kill afterwards) and possibly hundreds more on the way?

had voldemort suddenly turned from cold strategist to hotheaded kamikaze?

the only plausible answer is that voldemort had purposefully entered the ministry, risking capture and possibly his very life (or at least his newly created body, since at this point the horcruxes are still intact and a secret) and not knowing what exactly was there waiting for him, as a rather valiant rescue attempt and quite an unexpected one too.

bellatrix herself just moments before had laughed at the absurdity of the possibility of voldemort ever entering the place in response to harry’s questioning:

“Get it himself?” shrieked Bellatrix on a cackle of mad laughter. “The Dark Lord, walk into the Ministry of Magic, when they are so sweetly ignoring his return? The Dark Lord, reveal himself to the Aurors, when at the moment they are wasting their time on my dear cousin?”

bellatrix herself believed it an impossible and ludicrous thought and yet, less than half an hour later and her life in jeopardy, there voldemort surely appeared.

you could speculate he wanted to save his most valuable, just freed death eaters and then couldn’t, but there’s no evidence of it in the chapter whatsoever. the only evidence points out to the fact he was focused only on saving bellatrix.

this is in fact what lucius tells his hunting party while harry and co are trying to escape the ambush:

Harry put his ear close to the door to listen and heard Lucius Malfoy roar: “Leave Nott, leave him, I say, the Dark Lord will not care for Nott’s injuries as much as losing that prophecy — Jugson, come back here, we need to organize! We’ll split into pairs and search, and don’t forget, be gentle with Potter until we’ve got the prophecy, you can kill the others if necessary — Bellatrix, Rodolphus, you take the left, Crabbe, Rabastan, go right — Jugson, Dolohov, the door straight ahead — Macnair and Avery, through here — Rookwood, over there — Mulciber, come with me!”

so, la crème de la crème of his high ranks is there and everyone is positive the only thing that voldemort would care about is the prophecy, even above captures and fatalities.

rabastan and rodolphus are also there and yet he doesn’t go for them.

he appeared when harry told bellatrix the prophecy was gone, specifically when bellatrix began to have a manic fit because of it, alone in the ministry’s atrium with harry.

“Potter, I am going to give you one chance!” shouted Bellatrix. “Give me the prophecy — roll it out toward me now — and I may spare your life!”

“Well, you’re going to have to kill me, because it’s gone!” Harry roared — and as he shouted it, pain seared across his forehead. His scar was on fire again, and he felt a surge of fury that was quite unconnected with his own rage.

“And he knows!” said Harry with a mad laugh to match Bellatrix’s own. “Your dear old mate Voldemort knows it’s gone! He’s not going to be happy with you, is he?”

“What? What do you mean?” she cried, and for the first time there was fear in her voice.

“The prophecy smashed when I was trying to get Neville up the steps! What do you think Voldemort’ll say about that, then?”

His scar seared and burned. . . . The pain of it was making his eyes stream. . . .

“LIAR!” she shrieked, but he could hear the terror behind the anger now. “YOU’VE GOT IT, POTTER, AND YOU WILL GIVE IT TO ME — Accio Prophecy! ACCIO PROPHECY !”

Harry laughed again because he knew it would incense her, the pain building in his head so badly he thought his skull might burst. He waved his empty hand from behind the one-eared goblin and withdrew it quickly as she sent another jet of green light flying at him. “Nothing there!” he shouted. “Nothing to summon! It smashed and nobody heard what it said, tell your boss that —”

“No!” she screamed. “It isn’t true, you’re lying — MASTER, I TRIED, I TRIED — DO NOT PUNISH ME —”

“Don’t waste your breath!” yelled Harry, his eyes screwed up against the pain in his scar, now more terrible than ever.

“He can’t hear you from here!”

“Can’t I, Potter?” said a high, cold voice.

specifically, he appears behind bella when she starts to maniacally invoke him, almost as if they had a special mean of communication with each other even from considerable distance.

(here bella is afraid voldemort would punish her and i find the manner of it very interesting, we will come back to it later on)

voldemort was obviously furious the prophecy was lost, but again why risking his own life on top of it? was he perhaps concerned of bella’s mental state now that she knew she had failed and therefore her ability to flee/fight his very nemesis, dumbledore and the aurors?

normally, we would have expected voldemort to stay away and deal with the surviving death eaters later, leaving them to their deserved destiny (as he did with literally everyone else who was there).

instead we have:

“So you smashed my prophecy?” said Voldemort softly, staring at Harry with those pitiless red eyes. “No, Bella, he is not lying. . . . I see the truth looking at me from within his worthless mind. . . . Months of preparation, months of effort . . . and my Death Eaters have let Harry Potter thwart me again. . . .”

“Master, I am sorry, I knew not, I was fighting the Animagus Black!” sobbed Bellatrix, flinging herself down at Voldemort’s feet as he paced slowly nearer.

“Master, you should know —”

“Be quiet, Bella,” said Voldemort dangerously. “I shall deal with you in a moment. Do you think I have entered the Ministry of Magic to hear your sniveling apologies?”

“But Master — he is here — he is below —”

Voldemort paid no attention.

“I have nothing more to say to you, Potter,” he said quietly. “You have irked me too often, for too long. AVADA KEDAVRA!”

even when she literally has just lost his one mean to achieve his every goal of a lifetime, she is “bella”. even when we would expect him to tear her to pieces then and there, he had come to stand between her and harry.

the only reprimand she receives is a scowling “be quiet bella, i shall deal with you in a moment”, as you would speak in public with someone who is very close to you and you are very mad at, who shouldn’t let that closeness slip in public, especially now that she’s making you risk a lot to save her sorry ass.

i find this scene very comic, on top of everything else. voldemort is clearly so done and yet there he is, come to save his sobbing mess nevertheless.

the scene proceeds with dumbledore’s arrival, the duel and bellatrix trapped under the statue. during the duel and just after having trapped bella, we see a really curious exchange:

“You do not seek to kill me, Dumbledore?” called Voldemort, his scarlet eyes narrowed over the top of the shield. “Above such brutality, are you?”

“We both know that there are other ways of destroying a man, Tom,”

Dumbledore said calmly, continuing to walk toward Voldemort as though he had not a fear in the world, as though nothing had happened to interrupt his stroll up the hall. “Merely taking your life would not satisfy me, I admit —”

“There is nothing worse than death, Dumbledore!” snarled Voldemort.

“You are quite wrong,” said Dumbledore, still closing in upon Voldemort and speaking as lightly as though they were discussing the matter over drinks.

(...)

"Indeed, your failure to understand that there are things much worse than death has always been your greatest weakness —”

what is this fate “worse than death”, these “other ways to destroy a man” that dumbledore wants for voldemort? we know how it all ended - with voldemort’s literal death, his very disintegration (after bellatrix’s very own). what was this all about then? this one i’ll let you decide for yourself. it’s certainly peculiar, considered the context.

voldemort doesn’t respond to this, he in fact seems very provoked and sends a killing curse at him.

at the end of the duel he disappears and everyone thinks he fled, bellatrix included, who cries out his name sobbing from under the statue.

he in fact, at that, goes straight to possess harry.

And then Harry’s scar burst open. He knew he was dead: it was pain beyond imagining, pain past endurance —

He was gone from the hall, he was locked in the coils of a creature with red eyes, so tightly bound that Harry did not know where his body ended and the creature’s began. They were fused together, bound by pain, and there was no escape — And when the creature spoke, it used Harry’s mouth, so that in his agony he felt his jaw move. . . .

“Kill me now, Dumbledore. . . .” Blinded and dying, every part of him screaming for release, Harry felt the creature use him again. . . .

“If death is nothing, Dumbledore, kill the boy. . . .”

Let the pain stop, thought Harry.

Let him kill us. . . . End it, Dumbledore. . . . Death is nothing compared to this. . . .

And as Harry’s heart filled with emotion, the creature’s coils loosened, the pain was gone, Harry was lying facedown on the floor, his glasses gone, shivering as though he lay upon ice, not wood. . . .

And there were voices echoing through the hall, more voices than there should have been (...)

“...where’s Voldemort, where — who are all these — what’s —”

The Atrium was full of people. The floor was reflecting emerald- green flames that had burst into life in all the fireplaces along one wall, and a stream of witches and wizards was emerging from them. As Dumbledore pulled him back to his feet, Harry saw the tiny gold statues of the house-elf and the goblin leading a stunned-looking Cornelius Fudge forward.

“He was there!” shouted a scarlet-robed man with a ponytail, who was pointing at a pile of golden rubble on the other side of the hall, where Bellatrix had lain trapped moments before. “I saw him, Mr. Fudge, I swear, it was You-Know-Who, he grabbed a woman and Disapparated!”

“I know, Williamson, I know, I saw him too!”

this passage is ever so interesting to me, because dumbledore’s words appear to have somehow made voldemort “emotional”. they provoked him somehow. he didn’t laugh at them. he linked them to the worst pain imaginable and almost killed harry with it, posing a philosophical dilemma - if such pain is worse than death, if my life is worse than death, why don’t you put this boy out of his misery?

there’s no doubt in my mind “that pain” is voldemort’s pain. a pain intrinsically love-related. voldemort’s problems to accept/understand/feel love are the crux of the saga, his every villainy and pain. it’s so interesting that in this whole scene the train of events and thought have ultimately reached this topic (even in the movie love is mentioned here, harry literally fights the possession telling him he shall never have it).

voldemort was furious with bellatrix, feared for his plans and life and went to save her anyway. he is enraged beyond belief but puts himself between her and harry and dumbledore. while they duel, dumbledore traps bellatrix and lectures him about “other ways to destroy a man” and “worse things than death”. he absolutely hits a nerve. voldemort completely feels what he’s meaning, so much he wants to retaliate and mercilessly - he never wants to be forced to face such things, such emotions. i don’t think he’s trying to kill harry there, he’s trying to prove a point, to make them both understand how it feels to be him, how the whole concept of love feels to him. and the matter is addressed in a scene entirely built around bellatrix. in fact, finally he then grabs her, leaving everyone else to fend for themselves, and flees. he effectively saves her and her only.

to me this whole passage is directly linked to the famous scream at bellatrix’s death, and to the way the events leading to voldemort’s own death unfolded. that scream might very well be that “fate worse than death”. jkr loves parallels and to me this one is perhaps the most beautiful of the series.

this really proves, in my opinion, at what depth their relationship stands, absurdly perhaps much more abysmal on voldemort’s part than on bella’s.

anyways, i took the time to analyze this particular episode because it’s emblematic of their relationship and his way to deal with her disasters.

lucius would carry on his face the signs of this fiasco literally for the rest of the entire series. the malfoys would fall from grace because of it, probably alive only because of bella’s intercession. half of the death eaters who were present at the ministry would end up back in azkaban.

voldemort would end up defeated, furious and destined to die.

bellatrix would come out of it not only physically unscathed, but with voldemort’s child.

even when she again loses the trio at malfoy’s manor (along with the sword), everyone ends up physically tortured but her. she says she fears for her life if voldemort was to know she lost the sword, but it seems more a metaphor than an actual possibility. when the cup is stolen from her vault, he makes her leave the room before murdering everyone in it. she’s not present at dumbledore’s assasination, and that’s because she wasn’t disposable.

i don’t think physical punishments are involved in their relationship, or if they are they are very rare, and i don’t think voldemort’s reactions to her transgressions/wrongdoings are in tune with the way he reacts to everyone else’s.

bella can more than anyone with him and never really loses this status of utter closeness, no matter what she does.

this obviously doesn’t mean that voldemort is a saint with her or that he doesn’t occasionally punish her. this doesn’t mean she isn’t rightfully afraid of him.

yet, the main way i see him actually hurting bella is psychological torture and silent treatment.

and here we come back at what bella was sobbing at the ministry, her desperate “MASTER, I TRIED, I TRIED — DO NOT PUNISH ME —”.

i don’t think a warrior, a general, a woman who remarkably survived 14 years at azkaban, would ever react this way to the mere fear of physical punishment, no matter how cruciatus curses hurt. i think she would have taken it as stoically as possible. thought she deserved it, even.

no, voldemort’s punishments must be unbearable to her, impossible to even fathom, because they involve falling from his graces, from the closeness she lives for. voldemort can serve bellatrix the cold, silent, disappointed treatment of a mentor and a lover, and have bellatrix literally rotting away because of it.

this is truly the worst thing he can do to her and the thing that had her sobbing and having a fit before harry at the mere idea of it.

this is also somehow confirmed when hermione, transformed in bellatrix, meets a death eater (i don’t remember who he was) before entering the gringott. he wasn’t surprised to see bella, well, alive and physically well, he was surprised to see her out of malfoy manor, where she was supposed to be confined.

so yes, definitely the way voldemort deals with bellatrix regarding punishments is special. everything regarding his way of treating bellatrix is, to be honest.

their relationship is written in such a subtle, beautifully twisted way. i adore it. the only problem is that because of it virtually no one ever connects the dots.

[august-anon]

Unrestrained Revenge

This was meant to be part of tickletober 2020 but i never finished it, so it became it's own fic instead lol. Promised y’all a full-length BNHA fic from the backlog after the last Witcher fic, so here this is! Hope you enjoy!

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Fandom: BNHA

Ship(s): EraserMic

Characters (lee/ler): Switch!Aizawa Shouta/Switch!Yamada Hizashi

Word Count: 1870 words

Summary: Hizashi decides to take advantage of Shouta getting a little tangled up in his capture weapon. Shouta, of course, can't let that go without revenge.

[ao3 link]

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Shouta, in his opinion, worked far too much (which probably meant Hizashi, what with his three jobs, was working an alarming amount, but that was besides the point). He spent eight hours a day in a classroom, and several hours after that grading. Then, as if that wasn’t enough, he worked patrols all night as if he didn’t have to be back in the classroom most mornings.

So screw him if he wound up walking around most days in a half-asleep haze.

It became increasingly apparent one afternoon after he and Hizashi had gotten home from their day jobs at the school, for once neither of them being required to head to their second (or even third, in Hizashi’s case) job of the day. Hizashi went to feed the cats while Shouta headed toward the bedroom, looking to change into something more pajama-adjacent.

Only, the problem with being half-asleep most of the time was that you could wind up being rather clumsy. Which was how Shouta found himself in his current predicament: being tied up in his own damn capture weapon. When his struggles only wound up tightening the scarf around him, Shouta gave into the mortification of getting stuck and called for help.

“Hizashi?” He ground out. “I could use some help.”

He heard Hizashi’s footsteps draw near the bedroom and braced himself for the teasing.

“Babe? What is i--” the door opened, and Shouta cringed. Hizashi started laughing. “Shou--babe, how did you do that?”

“I don’t know.”

Hizashi continued laughing as he circled around him, and Shouta couldn’t tell if he was trying to decide where to start or if he was just trying to find the funniest angle to look at him from.

“I don’t think you’ve gotten tangled up this bad since high school.”

Shouta jerked in his tangled bindings and growled. “Will you just help me?”

“Alright, alright, chill out Sho-chan! We can fix this.”

Shouta slumped a little as Hizashi approached and started tugging at random segments of his capture weapon, trying to find a way to start untangling him. He huffed when it didn’t seem to do anything except make the parts that were still loose, tighter.

“You really got yourself stuck, didn’t you…?” Hizashi murmured.

Shouta rolled his eyes. “Get on with it.”

Hizashi pinched his bottom rib. “Behave and I-- What was that?”

Shouta, who had jumped and quietly yelped, quickly cleared his throat. “Nothing.”

A sly grin began to grow on Hizashi’s face. “Shouta,” he sang, raising his hands shaped into claws. “Are you lying to me, my love?”

Shouta stumbled back a few steps. “No.”

Hizashi raised an eyebrow. “You really think you can lie to me, babe? After all this time we’ve known each other?”

“Hizashi, don’t you da--”

Shouta cut himself off with a yelp as he stumbled over his own feet and landed on their bed. Hizashi cackled and bounced up onto the mattress after him, clawed hands still hovering tauntingly between them. Shouta struggled harder in his self-made bonds as Hizashi started wiggling his fingers.

“Hizashi--”

“I can’t believe I forgot you were ticklish, my own fiance!”

“Hizashi--”

“I think it’s very wise of me to do this when you can’t fight back,” Hizashi nodded sagely. “You are far too good at hand-to-hand.”

Before Shouta could reply with a quip about how Hizashi relied on his quirk too much, Hizashi’s hands were back on his ribs. Shouta swallowed another yelp and pursed his lips together, squeezing his eyes shut. Luckily, his ribs weren’t a bad spot, and the gentle pinches Hizashi was subjecting him to were easy enough to resist.

“Aw, come on, baby,” Hizashi tried to goad him, moving down to wiggle his fingers into Shouta’s sides where the scarf wasn’t covering him. “Just laugh! You’ll feel better!”

“You wish,” Shouta ground out.

“You’re right, I do wish. That’s why you should do it.”

Shouta locked his jaw and squirmed around as much as he could, but he couldn’t exactly get much leverage when he was wrapped up in his own capture weapon. Dammit, he should’ve been paying better attention to what he was doing.

It wasn’t like he necessarily minded being tickled, certainly not, and he always enjoyed having Hizahi’s hands all over him. It was just so… embarrassing. His face flushed and his grin was silly and his laugh was weird. Plus, he preferred being restrained on his own terms, rather than getting stuck due to his own clumsiness. 

“Sho, if you just give me a giggle or three, this will all be over so much faster,” Hizashi teased, squeezing his hips and making Shouta grunt.

“Fuck you,” Shouta bit out.

Hizashi winked down at him. “Maybe later, Sho-chan.”

Shouta felt his heart stop when Hizashi’s grinned widened, eyes getting a mischievous glint to them. He tried to shuffle his body further up the bed, but Hizashi simply grabbed a loop of capture weapon to keep him from moving away.

“Good thing I know all your tricks,” he said with another wink. “I’ll have you giggling in no time.”

Hizashi then leaned down, pressing little pecks of kisses to his cheeks, jaw, and ears. Unfortunately, Hizashi was right: this action did almost always end with him giggling. The soft, playful affection was certainly one of Shouta’s secret weaknesses, but the thing Shouta hadn’t admitted to Hizashi about this little action was just how much Hizashi’s mustache tickled. Even with his lips pursed and his face scrunched up, the giggles bubbling up in Shouta’s chest began shaking his whole body, escaping from his nose.

“Here they come,” Hizashi sang into his ear.

Hizashi’s hand scratched down the top of his thigh as he pressed a ticklish kiss just underneath Shouta’s jaw. Shouta gasped, and his laughter escaped before he could stop it. He wished he had his hands free to hide his face. God this was so embarrassing.

Especially with Hizashi gazing at him like he’d hung the moon and the stars. It only made his face burn more.

“You’re beautiful when you smile,” Hizashi said.

Shouta didn’t even bother responding through his giggles. He simply rolled over to bury his burning face into the duvet. Unfortunately, that just opened up a whole new expanse of ticklish skin for Hizashi to exploit. He dug his fingers underneath and in-between loops of his capture scarf, somehow managing to pinpoint all the most sensitive places on Shouta’s back, making him cackle and kick his legs out.

“Hizashi, please!”

Hizashi chuckled. “Alright, alright.” He rolled Shouta over again, grinning down at him. “Let’s get you untangled, then.”

It took an absurd amount of time for Hizashi to get Shouta untied. It certainly didn’t help that Hizashi kept sneaking little tickles here and there, making Shouta squirm, which only tightened his bonds further. When Shouta was finally free, he tossed his scarf across the room with a scowl, making Hizashi fall back against the bed in laughter.

“Oh yeah?” Shouta growled, sweeping a hand through the hair in his face and holding it out of the way. “You think that’s funny? You like to laugh?”

“Oh, lighten up, baby. You and I both know you didn’t hate that.”

Shouta ignored the flush he felt rising into his cheeks once more.

“You’re going to regret that,” he said.

Hizashi’s eyes went wide and he started to sit up, but Shouta launched himself at him before Hizashi could escape. He pinned Hizashi down against the mattress, suddenly wishing he hadn’t thrown his capture weapon aside in his tantrum, and swiftly settled over his hips, pressing Hizashi’s hands into the mattress above his head. Hizashi squirmed around underneath him, already bubbling with nervous giggles.

“Sho--Shouta, come on, babe--”

Shouta cocked his head to the side. “I don’t know, ‘Zashi. You seemed pretty keen on taking advantage of my situation.”

“Baby, please--” Hizashi yelped, trying to free his hands.

But Shouta could hear the giddy undertone to his voice. Hizashi hated this just as much as Shouta did, which was to say, he didn’t hate it one bit. Quite the opposite, in fact Even if they’d played like this less and less over the years, to the point of them stopping entirely for a brief time, the game remained the same, and fake, weak protests had always been a part of it.

“The difference between you and me, babe,” Shouta said, giving Hizashi one of his terrifying grins, “is that I never forgot that you were ticklish.”

Which meant that Shouta knew exactly where to target to get Hizashi howling.

And Hizashi clearly realized that too, because he gasped and tucked his red face into the crook of his elbow. Shouta was tempted to call him out on it, to remove the ways to hide his face since Shouta hadn’t been able to hide his, but he decided to have mercy and simply dive in.

See, what Hizashi had so foolishly forgotten was that the two of them shared a weak point. Shouta and Hizashi both had horribly ticklish necks, both easily ranked as one of their worst spots. Hizashi didn’t do much to protect his neck, but Shouta’s ticklishness was certainly one of the reasons he kept his hair so long and wore his capture weapon everywhere: it was much wiser to hide the sensitive spot away than to let his friends have access to it.

And so Shouta kept Hizashi’s hands pinned to the bed, leaning down to bury his face in Hizashi’s neck. A squeal (thankfully not quirk-powered) ripped from Hizashi’s lips as Shouta gently scraped his stubble against Hizashi’s throat, and the sound only got louder and more high-pitched when Shouta brought his lips and teeth into the equation. 

There were small bursts of laughter here and there, but it seemed like Hizashi was so overwhelmed by the sensation that he couldn’t do much more than shriek and squeal and yell out wordlessly. In Shouta’s opinion, it was fucking adorable.

“Had enough yet?” Shouta teased, carefully keeping his voice monotone to set Hizashi on edge.

He didn’t even bother waiting for an answer before pressing his lips to a weak point under Hizashi’s jaw and blowing a loud raspberry. Hizashi’s laughter (or, more accurately, screaming) went silent at that, his shoulders shaking with mirth. 

As the sensation faded, Hizashi gasped and called out, “Enough!”

Shouta backed off instantly, freeing Hizashi’s hands but not climbing off his hips just yet.

“Your endurance is down,” Shouta said.

Hizashi rolled his eyes, but the grin on his face was bright and happy. “Yeah, yeah.” His grin morphed into something a little more mischievous. “You know what I’m in the mood for right about now?”

Shouta raised an eyebrow. “A nap, hopefully.”

Hizashi’s laughter rang out through the apartment once more as he pulled Shouta back down onto the mattress with him. He pressed a lingering kiss to Shouta’s lips before squirming out of his arms and worming his way under their mound of blankets.

“A nap sounds great, Sho-chan.”

Shouta snorted. “It fucking better, after all that,” he replied, and climbed under the blankets himself.

And for once, the two of them slept peacefully, wrapped tightly in each other’s arms.

[jojikawa]

[🍉] Not Good Enough [🍓]

 💥Summary: Katsuki is unable to come to terms with his feelings for Reader-chan and ultimately, his jealousy consumes him at the possibility that he lost his chance with her.

💥Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou/Reader

💥Word Count: 3,862 words 20,633 characters 

You were a popular individual. Your parents were top heroes and you were now in the spotlight to become a top hero. Therefore, you got into U.A. with a plethora of recommendations. You were often compared to Shouto Todoroki because of your raw power and ability. By being opposite gender, it was natural to get “shipped” with him by the class.

It was also rumored that his father, Flame Hero Endeavor, approved of you. It wasn’t said explicitly but in events during the Sports Festival, he implied that you and his son would do great things together. 

Your quirk was called “Aura”. You can channel your emotions and aura (along with others’ emotion and aura) to create armor and super powered punches, kicks, etc. You were definitely a fighter. You were the only girl that had gone through training before attending school.

Just like Shouto, your father had trained you in mastering your quirk but he was a lot nicer than Enji. You really did come from a good home. In class 1-A, you made tons of friends with the exception of Mineta. The little guy made you feel really uneasy and it didn’t help that he was always trying to look up your skirt.

Your best friend was, of course, Shouto. You both shared the same burden of being put on a pedestal for greatness. Bonding came naturally. During some of your conversations during any sort of recess such as lunch or to dorms, Shouto would tell you that your classmate, Katsuki Bakugo, would stare at you a lot and would try to show off and be fancy with his quirk. 

You had thought it was a coincidence because you knew Bakugo-kun to always show off. It was just apart of him to act like he’s better than everyone else. How could someone like him be attracted to you? 

Katsuki liking you back gave you a glimmer of hope on the inside. Your crush liking you back was something you felt only happened in movies and cheesy romance novels. You had only exchanged a few words with him but you observed a lot of his personality from being in the 1-A friends circle.

His quirk seemed generic at first but you saw the way he handled himself. He was definitely pro material. Not only was he talented, his raging always made you giggle and laugh. You didn’t know why but what’s funny is funny.

He was kinda cute as well. His spiked hair and red eyes were to die for. It was so easy to imagine yourself with him while you were in private. Sometimes, you would daydream, looking out the window, thinking about Bakugo. Your imagination ran wild. Having him confess to you when you were alone. It was blissful. 

The reality was that your father and Shouto’s father would compromise on an arranged marriage if you couldn’t find a boyfriend your father approved of. You hoped that maybe things could change. Shouto didn’t mind though, of course, he would never tell you. He had an attraction to you of his own right but he knew that you could never truly return his feelings.

On the other side, Bakugo was plotting. He had been for a long time. He had to tell you how he really felt. You were too close to “icy-hot” and the “Shouto-(y/n)” ship didn’t fly with him. He tried his best not to show his anger for Mina’s teasing because he’d indirectly confess before he felt ready.

Kirishima gave Bakugo some tips on how he could confess. His first idea was to visit her dorm at night and leave a letter. Bakugo declined. 

Second idea was to tell you in person after classes had finished. He declined.

Third idea was to take you out on the weekend and do it then. He also said no.

So, how was he supposed to do it? That was just the tip of the iceberg. He was out of luck on what to do. No idea suited his style. Until one night in the dorms.

Mina and Momo put together plans for a game night. It was an off-day and you guys spent the day doing indoor activities. At the end of the night, everyone was tired and talking amongst themselves. Bakugo wasn’t talking to anyone. He was just watching you.

Icy-hot was trying so hard to flirt with you and from what it looked like, you were going for it. The way you laughed at what he was saying, the whispering, the casual arm touching and contact. Not to mention, you didn’t have some ordinary pajamas on. After game night, you were going to poke around for a little, so instead of skimpy pajamas, you were wearing a beautiful cherry blossom kimono. It ended at your thighs so you were able to show off your thigh-highs. You took inspiration from Kimetsu No Yaiba. The female Hashiras were so pretty to you.

The two of you were dating. You had to be. Even the class thought you were dating. Why were the two of you so close? Why did you have to touch him? Your thighs were touching. Was he not impressive enough? Was Bakugo not good enough for you? Why were you giggling so hard? Surely, Shouto wasn’t that funny.

These questions just ate at him. He didn’t even realize how much time had been passing. It was about 2am. Normally, Bakugo would have went to bed around 8pm. This was very unlike him. Was he really ruining his perfect sleep schedule over you? Luckily, Shouto informed you that he was getting sleepy and would take it in before you. You were sleepy as well but had decided to stay in the living space. You wanted to take some snacks to your room before bed. 

When one does it, the rest are soon to follow. One by one, everyone had scattered until it was just you and Bakugo. He was too attractive, you could never look him in the face while alone.

You yawned. “Ara~ Baku-chan. I’m extremely tired. I’ll be off to bed, now.” You stood up, adjusting the length of your skirt. Bakugo had only grunted in response until you turned away. 

“Why Icy-hot?” He was also standing now. You didn’t quite catch what he said. “Hm?” You tilted your head, smiling warmly at him. He hated that. He hated how smug you were sometimes. 

“You heard me. Why Icy-hot?” He questioned harshly. From watching you, he noticed all of the smallest things. He suspect that you do, indeed, have feelings for Shouto and he’s doing no good job of covering it up either. 

“Why? Like, what? Is Icy-hot supposed to be Shouto?” You asked. “Well, that’s clever, I suppose. Are you asking why I chose him to be my best friend? Its a bit...personal.” You giggled at your own rambling. 

“No-” Katsuki blurted out, cutting himself off at the sound of his uneven voice volume. “I know you’re dating icy-hot, okay. I don’t know what you see in him but...” his mouth was dry. Was he really going to confess to you right now?

“Me and Shouto?” You repeated, wondering what else would come out of his mouth. “We aren’t dating. That’s absurd, Baku-”

“Cut the crap, (y/n)! You can stop lying to me now. I don’t know if you wanna fucking protect my feelings or what. I never asked you to do that shit. All this time, I would do so much for you and you never even gave me a thought. At the sports festival, I made sure to beat that Icy-hot freak so that I could give you a chance. I took that stupid internship with Best Jeanist so that I could impress you. Anytime you wanted extras at lunch, I gave them to you. On the train, I would give up my seat for you.” Katsuki put a hand on his head to silence himself. 

What the fuck was he saying?

You did notice that Katsuki would have your back, but you just felt like he was being nice. I mean, you were THE (y/n) (l/n), Aura Guardian and daughter of two notable heroes. Who wouldn’t do nice things for you? But you failed to notice that random nice gestures wasn’t Katsuki Bakugo’s style. 

“Bakugo-kun, what are you trying to say? I don’t understand.” You frowned at the ruined atmosphere. Why was he so angry? You always thanked him.

“I....I FUCKING LIKE YOU, OKAY?” Bakugo shouted, surely the others heard. Who wouldn’t have? His raise in octaves pierced your sensitive ears. No ones ever yelled at you like that, nor anything that nice.

“Y-You like me?” A dusted pink tint covered your cheeks. Maybe crushes liking you back wasn’t something that just happened in movies?

“Yeah, I fucking said it. I like you and all you do is ogle over a dumb ass like half and half! What the fuck does he do for you that I haven’t done ten times over?”

You took in this information, piece by piece. His emotions, the words he was saying. It was just...a lot.

“I-I like you too.” You said, nervously. Your voice was significantly quieter than this. “Everyone does nice things for me, so when you were doing favors for me, I just thought it was you having my ba-”

“Shut up!”

You were stood there, startled like a deer in headlights. “You think I believe that crap? I’m not good enough for you. I’m not good enough for anybody. I got captured by villains, fucking, twice, I failed the licensing exam and needed to do it over, I put an end to All Might. I just fuck everything up!”

“No, Katsuki, you don’t..fuck...everything up.” You cringed at yourself for using such foul language. “You don’t have to blame yourself for All Might, he knew what he was getting into. You don’t even have to blame yourself for being captured. Nothing is your fault.” You reassured him, moving closer. “I’m deeply sorry for ignoring you. It was just hard for me to believe that you would like someone like me. Legitimately. I don’t have a boyfriend because I’ve always run into partners who just see me as an asset.” You explained. 

You really didn’t expect to open up to him.

“Well, you’re fucking not. You’re a lot more but that doesn’t explain why you been all over that freak. What the fuck does he have that I don’t? HUH?”

He raised his voice again, causing you to back off a bit. Now, he was realizing that he was pushing you away. You returned his feelings but why was he still angry?

Was he upset that you were clueless? You had a good reason but he was still angry.

“Shouto isn’t a freak! We’re just friends and he knows that. We just share similar history and when I came here, he was familiar to me. No one can understand what it’s like having everything you want and still being unhappy. My father is friends with his father. They have the same way of thinking. I was kept away from my siblings, my mother and any friends I made to just train and master my skill. I felt so e-empty.” You whispered, your eyes were glossy from holding back tears. 

Shouto was the only one who understood.

“You can trust me, idiot!”

Now it was your turn to get angry. “And how was I supposed to know? You do all of these nice things but you barely say anything to me. You could just be another person trying to get close and use my name for leverage.” You spat, but your voice was still quiet. You could never ruin your vocal cords with meaningless screaming. Not now, anyway. 

“I-” Now Katsuki was out of things to say. You had good reason to not associate with him. You had every right to be with Shouto instead of him. You guys were just... made for each other, ya know? Quirk marriage babies seem to get along just swell. 

Was that just their thing? If they’re made right then they get all the sympathy points? Attractive, untouchable, powerful, tragic backstory and are able to just be better than everyone. It fucking sucked that he couldn’t relate to you or comfort you in any way. He just fucked things up and a possible relationship with you was beginning to be one of them. 

“Don’t say anything.” You used the long sleeves of your kimono to dry the tears before they could spill out of your eyes. You told yourself that would never soil your perfect skin with salt angel tears. 

“I’m sorry for getting emotional. This isn’t about me. You were just upset that I didn’t acknowledge you the way you did me. I did appreciate you very much. I can say that now that I know how you truly feel, I can make a decision.” You informed him. 

“What? What the hell are you talking about?” Katsuki asked. By this time, you could hear birds chirping and the sun beginning to rise with the black of night turning dark blue.

“My father told me that he would marry me off to Shouto if I couldn’t find a partner he approved of. I was hoping that maybe I could give us a try.” You muttered with a smile, playing with loose strands of your hair. You never asked anyone out but this felt good. It gave you a rush of excitement.

Katsuki’s eyes widened. Were you really...?

“Ah, shit, I really gotta get some sleep. I’m not thinking straight.” He told you before swiftly walking by. He even made sure not to brush you when you went by. He hasn’t been up this late before. Surely, he was dreaming. He had to be.

“Baku-chan.” You called, reaching out for him but your arm fell short. It was better to let him sleep off the anger. You forgot about your snacks and went to bed. That was so emotionally exhausting. You had so many mixed feelings.

Bakugo confessed to you but also kinda rejected you? Well, he didn’t say no but there was no ‘yes’ as well.

You just decided to get to your room and sleep for the night. Maybe you both were just tired. 

In the morning, Mina came to wake you up as usual while Momo made breakfast with Ochaco and Toru. You were asked to help but you weren’t too experienced in things such as cooking and cleaning. It was usually done for you, but you gave it a try. 

The boys were doing morning stretches so you didn’t see Katsuki at all. Honestly, it made you nervous. You had been cutting fruit when the boys came back to eat before class. No one showed you how to but you were kinda figuring it out. You cut enough for everyone when you came to the conclusion you wanted more so when breakfast was being served, you went to cut yourself some more when someone had entered the kitchen.

It was Katsuki. He was returning his dishes to the sink. At the sight of you, he was visibly moved and didn’t speak first. You figured that you should be nice until the awkwardness went away. 

“Good Morning!” You greeted his cheerfully, raising the knife instinctively. “Would you like some more fruit? It’s fresh and seems to be quite alright.” You said, referring to the sweetness. 

“Shut up.” Was all he said. “Oh-” You raised your eyebrows and cut yourself off when you had processed what he had said. “You’re cutting it wrong.” He added. “Who the fuck holds a knife like that? You’re gonna cut your damn fingers off.” 

He put his dish in the sink and went over to your side of the table, taking the knife from you and swiftly dicing the pineapple you were dicing before.

“Oh, thank you.” You said quietly, blushing from the embarrassment of needing him for such a simple task. You took some ate in silence while he stood there, a bit dumbfounded.

Why the fuck were you blushing? And why did you look so cute? He fucking hated it. 

“About last night...” You swallow what you were eating and looked down. “I’m sorry for pushing my feelings onto you like that. You were pouring your heart out to me and I was being insensitive.” You sighed.

Why were you the one apologizing? To him, you asked him out and he was too emotionally immature to realize what he was really getting angry about. Katsuki dropped the knife on the table. As you spoke to him about how sorry you were, his eyes traveled from yours to your lips. 

This was it. He could fix his mistake. Why do you have to apologize for how he acted? Your voice was like white noise when he moved in to roughly press his lips to yours. Your lips were sweet just like the pineapple you had. He loved it so much. He grabbed your face by your chin and squeezed lightly as he went deeper. 

Wait? Was Katsuki Bakugo really kissing you right now? How did this happen? Why?

You placed your hands on his chest, pushing lightly and signaling him to stop. He moved away and was surprised by what happened next.

“Katsuki!” You cried out, signaling for the others to come investigate your scream. “Shit!” Katsuki yelled, jumping away from you with a huge blush on his face.

‘the fuck did he just do?

Toru revealed herself and Mina had also come out of the woodwork. “Wow! He actually did it!” she cheered. Kiri came into the kitchen too, giving Katsuki a thumbs up. “I knew you had it in you, man.”

“You guys knew Katsuki would kiss me?” You cried, trying to hide the red in your face. “Well, no. We didn’t think he would kiss you, but I’ve never seen Bakugo eat so fast after you went into the kitchen. Clearly, it was to get some alone time with you.” Mina explained. You glanced at Katsuki, his face turning a deeper shade of red when your eyes fell on him.

“GODDAMIT!!” He yelled out. “STAY OUT OF MY DAMN BUSINESS!!” He yelled at the others.

Shoto was in the other room, enjoying his breakfast with a smirk on his face. He knew acting close to you would get under his skin. 

After a bit of teasing from your friends and yelling from Katsuki, everyone cleared out and did their own thing. That left you alone with Katsuki again. You felt so disconnected from him. The kiss said he liked you but the pulling away signified otherwise. 

“Why did you kiss me, Katsuki?” You asked, eating the left over fruit from the cutting board. There was a brief moment of silence between you two before he answered.

“I fucking like you, okay?”

This made you gasp. It was making sense now.

“I....I FUCKING LIKE YOU, OKAY?” 

He was just bad at returning the feelings. You smiled at him and gave him a big hug. You could his men’s body wash through his shirt mixed with a tiny bit of sweat from morning exercise. Or maybe the sweat was from being so nervous around you. Who knows.

Katsuki just grunted in response, thinking of how he could replicate without seeming desperate. The boy was a bit touched starved. The only contact he got from a girl was when his mom would smack him.

“If you wanted to get to know me, you could have just asked. I told you last night. I like you too, Katsuki. It was just hard for me to tell that you felt the same. I was being dumb.” You admitted, snuggling into his chest a bit more.

This made Katsuki frown. “You weren’t being dumb, idiot. It’s not like I made it easy for you. I just didn’t want to tell you how I felt when you and icy-hot were all buddy-buddy. Then I would’ve been the idiot.”

You giggled. “Maybe you are the idiot for worrying so much about him.” You could hear a quiet ‘tck’ come from Katsuki at irony of you calling him the idiot.

After that, the school day was normal. You were tired from staying up so late, so Katsuki insisted that you spend the evening in his dorm to ‘make sure you don’t go late night snacking’ and ruin your sleep schedule with your bad eating habits.

His room was neat and cooler than you thought it was be. Knowing him, you thought it would be messy, hot and bothering but it seems like he was brought up in a good household. It made him attractive. He was skilled in cooking and keeping up a basic room. Definitely husband material, but maybe it was a little too early to be thinking about that?

“Did you bring something to sleep in?” He asked, firmly but politer than usual. You nodded. “Yeah, I did.” 

He replied with a grunt. “I need to shower so just wait here or whatever.” He instructed before disappearing into his bathroom. You used this as a time to get changed, being too awkward to change in front of him. 

While the shower was going on, you let your eyes wonder around the room. He had a few All Might things, it was very minimal. He was clearly a fan. This only made excitement grow inside of you. You would really be cuddling with Katsuki! At least, you hoped it would get that far. 

When some time passed, Katsuki came out of the bathroom, dry and dressed with the exception of warm water droplets around his neck. All he wore was solid black joggers and he looked good.

“‘The hell you lookin’ at?” He commented, using his towel to get remaining water. “You.” You answered, teasing him. “You look good!” You added, giggling as well. 

A light pink dust covered his cheeks. “Shut up...” He replied but it wasn’t as harsh as he would usually say it. You patted the empty spot in bed next to you, telling him that it was okay to sleep together. He complied and you immediately scooted closer to him and laid down.

“You’re very kind for letting me sleep here. But there is no need to regulate my late night eating habits. I think you just want me here.” You squinted your eyes at him, letting him know you were onto his ideas.

The two of you were so close...you could kiss him. When he laid next to you, he was ever closer. He faced you as well. You tried to be smooth and steal a kiss, inching closer and closer...

Were you really doing it? Were you really going to kiss Katsuki first?

This is all Katsuki had dreamed of in the past 4 months.

You peppered his face with kisses, but it was clear you wee in a sleepy state. Your body was giving out on you. 

“Fucking sleep, idiot.” Katsuki spat with a huge blush on his face. He was still trying to be a tough guy. You said nothing and giggled, drifting off to sleep.

[fanfalc-616]

The Rights Of A Nindroid

Chapter Twenty-Two

(Previous Chapter Here)

Apparently this chapter is too long for a singular tumblr post so I’ll post this and then reblog it with the rest-

Also watch me beat canon to death with a stick lol

Kai slams open the door to the bridge. “I have a new idea!” He proclaims. “I’m going to become the Emperor.”

He receives a bunch of blank stares at his statement.

Finally, after a long pause, Nya speaks up. “You’re going to what?” She demands in disbelief.

He can feel the wide smile forming on his face. “There’s an election coming up, and I-“

“Since when is that an electable position?” Jay blinks, his confused expression so intense it’s almost comical.

Nya opens her mouth to answer, but Kai keeps talking.

“Not sure, but it is. I did my research! Anyway, I’m going to become the Emperor and then order them to free Zane.” He explains. Honestly, he can’t believe they didn’t think of this sooner! The election is only seven months away, and it’s a great backup plan for if nothing else works.

Nya stares at him in shock. “I can’t even begin to explain how horrible of an idea this is.”

“I mean… it might work.” Jay defends. “There’s no harm in trying, right?”

“No. No, we are not doing this. Cole, Lloyd, back me up here.” Nya looks over at the two.

Cole looks up from his phone. “I’m already filing out the forms.”

“Wh- no!” She stands up abruptly. “No, this is a horrible idea! Do you realize how many things could go wrong here? We could-“

“You’re right.” Jay conceeeds. “With his recent arrests, Kai isn’t the best choice for this.” He winces as he looks over at the brunet, and Kai grimaces as he accepts the point.

“It should be Lloyd.”

The green ninja snaps to attention. “What?” He demands. “I- you- you guys don’t want me to be in charge, I- I wouldn’t be a very good leader!”

Cole shrugs. “I mean, you kind of already are.” He points out.

Kai comes over and sits on the table in front of the blond. “Look, either you do it or I do. What do you say?”

Cringing, Lloyd seems to be weighing his options, ignoring the shocked and upset look Nya has.

“... alright. What paperwork do I need to fill out?”

{ { { { { { { { { { ~ } } } } } } } } } }

Zane grimaces as both he and Cryptor are taken to the training room. When both of them are brought, it means only bad things.

After being chained down, Zane recognizes Kyle standing there. With a glare, he decides to cut to the point.

“I’m not going to say it again.” He snarls. “I am equal to any human.”

Kyle sighs, rolling his eyes. "Get off your high horse, Original. That's not why you're here."

From beside him, Cryptor seems to be thinking about speaking, but instead glances over at Zane.

Very well. He can do the speaking for the both of them- and as of now, that will be expressing his confusion.

“It’s… not?”

"No. You're here because…" He starts to circle them, surrounding them like a predator analyzing its prey for weaknesses, his cold tone matching the action. "...Because you two have been keeping secrets. From me, from the facility. Isn't that right?"

They- they have not discovered his Falcon, right? That- no. This must be bluff of some sort! And Zane will just have to call him on it.

Silently wishing he had a faceplate to allow him to better express himself, he sighs. “You monitor us day and night. What could you possibly think we’re doing?”

The sly smile Kyle gives him is unnerving. "I don't know, you're gonna tell me. Aren't you, General?"

Cryptor suddenly tenses, and Zane looks over at him as his breathing picks up. The other nindroid is clearly scared, borderline panicking.

“I…” Cryptor trails off, but Zane realizes that he should speak before Kyle manages to convince Cryptor to tell him what he wants to know.

Forcing confidence into his voice, he stares the blond down. “No one is telling you anything- because there isn’t anything to tell!”

Kyle seems almost amused. "Oh, really now?” He walks back over to Cryptor and taps on his eye scope, the action clearly a threat of some sort.

Zane internally winces at the way Cryptor horribly fails at hiding his fear and the way he flinches back. “We… it- it wasn’t… yes. Yes, Ma-“ He cringes, cutting himself off. “... we’re hiding something.” He miserably admits.

Wearing a sarcastic smile, Kyle looks back over to Zane. "Wow, didn't see that coming." He mocks.

Annoyance creeps into him as he glares at the other nindroid. “Cryptor!” He quietly hisses out the name, staring in disbelief.

The blond shakes his head. "Not its name. It won't answer to that, anymore.”

Zane glowers at that, but Cryptor doesn’t deny it, which only serves to fuel his annoyance.

Kyle continues. “But what it will answer to is this-“ He pauses a beat before dropping his voice into a dark threatening tone.

“What are you hiding?" He snarls.

After hesitating a beat, Cryptor answers the blond. “... do I have to?” He tries weakly.

Kyle arches an eyebrow. "Depends, do you remember who's physical and mental integrity depends on you cooperating?"

Taking a deep breath, Cryptor seems to struggle for words. Finally, in a choked voice, he gets out, “You didn’t hurt him. You- you lied. He’s fine.”

A weak laugh escapes him as he ducks his head, and Zane frowns- or he would, if he had his face- as he watches him. Still, Cryptor continues.

“And… I- I know that because we were hiding a way to-“

Sucking in a deep breath, Zane realizes that- that Cryptor is actually going to tell him. He’s actually going to explain the Falcon?!

“No!” Zane interrupts him before he gets the chance to continue. “Cryptor, stop it!” He demands.

Still seeming amused, Kyle continues prompting the other into speaking. "A way to communicate, I presume. What might it be…?" He takes on an exaggerated thinking pose.

While his voice is shaking, Cryptor does try to answer him. “Zane has a-“

Panic taking over, Zane shouts out, “Do not!”

Who knows what they’ll do to his Falcon if they capture him! Likely cause horrible harm, if not taking him apart!

The excitement Kyle shows is terrifying. "Do it!"

“He-has-a-Falcon-its-mechanical-we-can-connect-to-it-digitally-and-“ Cryptor speaks rapidly, getting the words out fast enough that Zane doesn’t have a chance to stop him.

Fear sets into him once again. “No, you can’t just…” he trails off. He can’t argue, not now that Cryptor has already told him.

"That's enough, General.” The blond gives a gentle smile. “Hush."

Zane glares at the other nindroid as he nods and lowers his head. He knows that Kyle had made some form of threat before, but this level of obedience? It’s absurd!

The blond paces around as he speaks to Cryptor, ignoring Zane for the moment. "Since you were pretty obedient today, you're not gonna get punished for this." He stops, staring menacingly at them. "But to follow what you told me about him being fine- He's not hurt yet. And now that you won't be able to talk to him, you won't even know if he is."

Cryptor opens his mouth as if to speak, but seems to think better of it and looks away, pointedly avoiding Zane’s death glares.

He doesn’t have the words to describe the emotions building inside of him. Cryptor had- he had told Kyle! And so easily! He had barely tried defying him at all!

The blond redirects his attention to Zane."And you…" He pauses a moment as he glare. "Congrats."

Zane grinds his teeth, desperately trying to think of a way to divert Kyle’s attention and possibly save his Falcon. He can’t… while a simple design compared to him, that bird is all he has left of his father. He can’t let any harm come to him!

“Disconnect me, then.” He snaps. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll find another way, another plan. I am not your slave, not a mindless drone! I’m not this ‘Original’ that you try to make me. I am Zane Julien, the white ninja. And that, you will never take from me.”

Kyle arches an eyebrow. "...Nice speech.” He pauses a beat. “I'm disassembling the Falcon."

Every circuit and wire he has is suddenly tensing up as he processes that. “What for?” He demands. “If I can’t connect to him, he poses no threat to you!”

"But you care for it, don't you?" Kyle smiles, an unnerving smile that carries a threat to it.

Zane can feel his power source heating up as he tries desperately to come up with a way to convince Kyle to leave him alone. “I- he’s a bird. That’s- that’s all.”

He takes a moment to breath and think before continuing. “Leave him out of this.” He snaps. “A- a bird is of no threat to you. Unless, of course, you and your organization is so weak that something so simple could stand in your way.”

Perhaps trying to bait someone as irritable as Kyle into becoming upset isn’t a good idea, but he’s hoping that maybe, just maybe, he can trick the blond into leaving the Falcon alone.

The blond snorts. "Uh-huh, yeah, I see that. But I raise you this. If it's truly 'just a bird', then you shouldn't be trying so hard to make me leave it alone. Why should you care if it's just a useless communication device?" There’s a taunt to his voice, but before Zane can think of a comeback, Cryptor is speaking.

The other nindroid’s voice is quiet and regretful. “His father made it, it’s all he has left of him.” He explains.

Zane can only stare. Why is Cryptor doing this?! He- Kyle did not even directly ask him about that! He had no reason to share that information! Now- now Kyle may-

A satisfied smile is on the blond’s face. "Now that changes everything. Congrats again, Original. You and General just won front row seats to the disassembling of your Falcon."

Beside him, Cryptor tenses up. “Me too?” He seems surprised and afraid, but at the moment, Zane is too upset with him to care about his fear.

"Yep.” Kyle smirks. “Have fun."

Feeling himself trembling, Zane speaks up, desperately trying to find a way to stop Kyle… but coming up empty.

“W- wait!” He chokes out. “You can’t- no, no, you…” He’s trembling, knowing that he would be near tears if he were human, fear taking ahold of every gear and circuit he has as his voice starts to break with his words. “... please, don’t…” He trails off.

“Don’t hurt him.”

His voice is nothing more than a broken whisper.

The blond has the nerve to laugh. "Why not?” He questions amusedly. “You clearly haven't learned your place, and this kind of punishment seemed to work on General. I don't see a single good reason why I shouldn't."

There’s a pause as Zane collects his thoughts.

His voice is quiet as he begins to speak. “Why not.” A weak, broken laugh escapes him. “Why not, you ask me.”

He looks up from the floor in order to look Kyle in the eyes as he speaks, voice beginning to rise in volume. “I have a better question.” He spits out.

“What the hell do you want from me?!” He shouts out the words, screaming them. “You take us here, you torture us, you try to convince us that we’re lesser, and for what?! Revenge?” He laughs a little, feeling his patience, his sanity, on the edge of breaking entirely. “This solves nothing! You fight fire with fire, you choose to cause suffering as though- as though that will bring back the ones you lost! I never meant to harm anyone! I was built to protect! And-“

Kyle’s voice is dangerous in a way that Zane has rarely heard, even in the voices of his most threatening opponents. "Shut the FUCK UP." The blond demands.

Zane glares with as much malice as he can muster. “No.” He snarls. “I wasn’t finished. You-“

"Close your fucking mouth.” Kyle snaps. “Was I not clear? You're asking me what I want from you, why I do all this? I'll tell you."

Zane scoffs. “Please, do!”

"I hate you.” The blond says simply. “And I want you to suffer. Yeah, it doesn't bring my lost ones back. But when I remember the terror on his face as he died in my goddamn arms, I feel really good about all this." His smile is threatening, a menacing expression that makes fear pool in his gut.

He stares for a moment, trying to figure out how to respond. What does he even say to that?

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

He waits only a moment before continuing.

“But if put in the same position…” Zane stares Kyle dead in the eyes as he speaks. “I would do it again. More lives were saved then lost, and I would have to be a fool to be willing to let so many suffer for your sake. Because it was never about him, was it?” He scoffs. “It’s about you. He’s not here anymore. What happens now has no effect on him. You use his death as an excuse to cause misery. You-“

“Zane?” Cryptor mutters, catching his attention. “Shut the hell up.”

"...You killed him.” Kyle’s voice is quiet, but no less threatening. “You killed so many people. Maybe even as many as you saved. And you never faced any trial."

Zane shakes his head. “The Golden Master would have killed everyone.” He argues. “I did what I had to do.”

He can feel Cryptor’s internal screaming at him, but he ignores the other in favor of staring down Kyle.

"What you had to do was to protect.” The blond snaps. “And you couldn't even do that right."

He- what?

Zane finds himself struggling for words, attempting to find a way to defend himself. He- he knows that he had failed, in a way, by...

“I protected as many as I could!” He shoots back, trying to keep his voice steady. “I was willing to die to protect those in danger!”

Kyle scoffs. "Being willing to die for something doesn't mean anything if you don't value your life enough to begin with. That's why you were the one to sacrifice yourself, right? You thought that, as an android, you were more expendable than your human teammates?"

Fear takes a cold grip on him as he processes the words.

“I- I am not-“ With shock, Zane realizes that… he doesn’t have a good argument.

His voice is quiet as he tries to come up with one. “I am expendable because the others have more use. It- it is not because I am a nindroid, it’s…”

He… doesn’t know what to say. How to defend himself. The- the others are more important than him, but- but that doesn’t mean that Zane is… that he’s…

Kyle shakes his head. "For something to have more use than something else, that other thing must be lesser. It's just logic.” He shrugs. “You said it yourself."

Zane finds himself looking down at the floor, breathing ragged, as he tries to come up with a way to deny the words. “No.” He chokes out. “No, that’s not what I…” He trails off, unsure of how to continue.

The smile he gets isn’t angry this time. No, it’s… almost comforting. "Think about it, alright?” His voice is reassuring, soothing. “You can't argue against logic."

Zane can feel himself shaking, his voice quiet and near breaking as he tries to say otherwise. “I’m not lesser, I’m not, I’m- I’m equal, I…”

Something seems to break inside of him as he realizes that it’s not Kyle that he’s trying to convince.

"Don't worry.” Kyle assures. “The confusion will be over soon."

Wordlessly, Zane gives a weak nod, not even sure what he’s agreeing to.

He’s not- not lesser, he’s just… sure, the others are more valuable, more skilled, more- more everything, but…

Kyle calls in some guards, but Zane can barely hear him. "Take them back to their lockers.” He instructs. “Someone will come fetch them when we find the bird."

Cryptor speaks quickly, clear fear in his voice. “It’s connected to us, I- I can call it.”

Zane can hear their voices, but he’s unsure of the meaning behind the words. He can barely process his own thoughts, much less the world around him.

[queenjunoking]

Wolf Taming 41

CW: Noncon - Petplay

Sasha

After the Eos left I was stuck hanging in the air for a few minutes until Jude came back with three other women. All of them were dressed in riding gear, it seemed that Eos really had a thing for the entire look.

The three women pushed a cart into the room. I could see from where I was hanging what they were going to do to me and I hated myself for not having the strength to fight back against it.

“You three.” Jude snapped and the three women shot to attention. “Hold her up while I undo the cables.”

I felt the three woman place their hands under me, not taking any particular caution in where or what they were touching. After feeling the cables attached to my back wiggle a bit I sudden fell down a bit. I could feel the women struggling to hold me up. “Careful you morons. Unlike you three, this one is unfortunately a prized find.”

Jude glared at me as she joined the three in lifting me up and placing me on the cart. I heard them strain for a moment as I was lifted a bit higher and then set down inside of it. There were several chains inside the cart that she attached to my harness and around my legs. They were probably there to make sure I didn’t try and get out, not that I could stand right now.

I felt the cart start moving. I couldn’t see where I was going, the edges of the cart were too high and I couldn’t sit up. None of the people escorting me to wherever I was going were saying anything. I couldn’t do anything but watch as the roof of the barn turned into the night sky. The cool air felt good. I watched the stars for the minute or so we were outside, I couldn’t help but feel a small bit of appreciation for them that I lacked before. It had been a long time since I had seen them.

I didn’t get to appreciate the beauty of the night sky long before we entered into what appeared to be another barn. We walked a bit down a hallway before we came to a stop.

“Help me get her up and inside.” Jude’s harsh voice finally broke the silence as she reached in and undid the chains binding me to the bottom of the cart.

Four sets of hands reached in and, with some effort, picked me up. I got a quick look at my surroundings, trying my best to move around to see where I was at.

“Sit still jade.” I gasped as Jude grabbed my nipple and twisted it.

My noise seemed to startle the only other people around in this barn. I saw a small red headed woman in a red colored version of the gear I was in being led by the bit in mouth into one of the cells down the row. My noise caused her to stop and look at me.

I watched as a woman dressed like Jude’s helpers gave her reins a tug and forced her to walk into a cell. The blinders on her headpiece left her unable to look towards me anymore.

After the four of my handlers rearranged myself I was carried into a cell. It was much larger than the one I was in previously. It was much cooler here then in the first cell I was in, much more comfortable. I could see a strange chair sitting in the middle of the room. Before I could figure out how to sit on it I was taken to it and turned around. I heard a few groans as I was lifted and placed onto it facedown.

It was kind of like a massage chair. There was a hole in the chair where my face was meant to go. Though unlike a normal massage chair there were straps on it meant to hold me down. Jude quickly removed my headpiece and harness while the other strapped my hands and legs to the chair.

I felt Jude slap my ass hard before she spoke. “Enjoy the next few hours, Callidora. Savor them. Remember them when you see the rest of the farm. Decide whether or not you want to be in here or somewhere much worse. Because you’re going to get to experience what only our best racehorses get to enjoy.”

“How about yo-” I started before I felt a hand strike my ass again.

“Ponies don’t need to talk. I know you have a thick head, but it would do good for you to try and remember that.” Jude laughed and left the room.

I was left in silence for a few minutes. If this was the best the race horses got to experience I wasn’t sure how it could get much worse. But eventually I heard the door open and I could hear two sets of footsteps enter the room along with what sounded like a metal cart.

“Good… evening Callidora.” The first voice stumbled a bit, trying to decide on which greeting to go with. “My name is Lucky.”

“And my name is Clover.” The second one said, a bit quieter.

“We’re here to help you feel a bit better. We’re knowledgeable about massage and acupunct-” Lucky began before I cut her off.

“No. No acupuncture.” I hated needles. I didn’t want them anywhere near me.

I could hear the hesitation in the room before Lucky spoke again. “It’s ok, I’ll make a note of that. We don’t have to do acupuncture. I would advise you to keep talking to a minimum, Mistress Eos doesn’t like her ponies to be chatty unless they’re asked direct questions.”

I bit my tongue. I wanted to yell at them that I wasn’t a fucking pony, but I had just gone for a twenty six mile run dressed like some perverts interpretation of a horse and the boots were still on my feet. I was too exhausted to have this conversation.

“I have plenty of drinks made to help you feel better. Do you have a preferred flavor?” Clover asked, trying to sound helpful. I wasn’t in a mood to help them though. “Well… I’ll try punch. Everyone likes punch… right?” I wasn't sure if she was talking to me, Lucky or the air.

I heard one of them doing something with the metal cart when I suddenly felt a wet sponge touch my skin. “You’re a bit sweaty, Callidora. Understandably so, but perhaps a quick wash would make you feel better. This is a mint mixture, it’ll leave you feeling refreshed.”

She was right, unfortunately. Everywhere the sponge touched felt cool and refreshed as she removed the sweat and grime I had accumulated from my run. I wanted to relax and just enjoy it, but I needed to do my best to remember where I was. I shouldn’t be enjoying this, I needed to figure out how to leave.

Eventually Lucky finished with the sponge and dabbed me dry with a warm towel. A drink with a straw appeared in my vision under the chair. I didn’t want to drink it, but I was thirsty. Jude had given me drinks on the run but nothing more than the bare minimum needed for me not to become completely hydrated.

I thought about it while I sipped on the drink. Jude hated me, seemingly for something Z had done. But she was obsessed with following Eos’s orders. Keeping me just barely hydrated on the run would ensure I would drink whatever was made for me here.

I felt a set of hand start kneading my back and I let out an involuntary moan. It felt wonderful. I had no idea who these two were, but Lucky was obviously trained to give good massages. Though I couldn’t help but wonder if it was before or after she was captured and brought here.

As much as I hated myself for admitting it, everything felt nice right now. The drink was delicious, I’d never had better punch. The massage felt wonderful on my muscles. This was the best I felt since I was kidnapped.

And I knew that was the point. To make me feel good. I knew this was all just to make me compliant. Giving me tastes of nice things so I listened. All I had to do was listen to Eos and apparently life wouldn’t be that bad. Whatever I was going to see later was a sword dangling over my head.

“Who was that woman in the hallway?” I sighed. I wanted to get as much information as I could, but I had already been chidded for talking once. I had to be careful.

The two were silent for a moment, probably exchanging gazes and deciding what to say. “Do you mean the pony in red?” Lucky said, resumming the massage.

“Yeah, I saw her being dragged into another cell. Is she also a racehorse?”

“No, Callidora. The pony in red is Strawberry. She is a stress release pony.” I felt Lucky move from my back to my legs and start massaging again. I tried my best to keep my mind on task.

“Would you like one, Callidora?” Clover chimed in, moving the drink out of reach. “All of our race horses are allowed to ask for one whenever they wish as long as it doesn’t interfere with their daily training.”

“I… don’t understand, Why would I want a pony? You’re giving me a massage, what kind of stress relief can someone with their arms chained before their back offer that you aren’t?”

I heard a soft laugh from Lucky. “Callidora.” She paused for a moment, trying to choose her words correctly. “Stress relief ponies are also sometimes called… pleasure ponies. They’re for sexual release in anyway you see fit.” I was stunned at the casualness of her statement. She was seriously asking if I wanted someone to be brought in to have sex with?

Lucky continued on, I was too surprised to stop her. “Male, female, and anywhere else on the spectrum we can find one that fits your wants. Some are submissive, others can take charge if you prefer. Some of our selection have modified body parts that you can discover for yourself if you want us to get something for you.”

“No!” I struggled to get up. The realization of what was happening hit me like bricks. “You’re offering me some other slave to have sex with? I don’t want that! Everyone I’ve seen here so far appears to be a slave, why are you just letting this happen? Why don’t you let me go and escape with me!”

The two got quiet and backed away. I just wanted to sit up and see what they looked like. I wanted to look them in the eyes and beg for help. But I was struck where I was.

“Callidora.” I could feel Clover tiptoeing into this conversation. I could tell she didn’t want to have it but I left her little choice. “The Society is a worldwide organization that has existed for hundreds of years. People like you, me and Lucky were captured and brought in as slaves. Some are born into it. Mistress Eos’s family has been part of the Society for generations. This isn’t a new farm, the place you are standing has existed for decades.”

“Thats… no, that’s absurd.” The idea something like this could go unseen for decades was absurd.

“Absurd doesn’t mean it’s not true. Your previous owner, Z.” She paused again, sounding nervous. Like just saying her name would have some kind of retribution. After nothing happened she continued. “Z was like you once, but she became part of the Society.”

“That loser? How did she become part of this society?” The idea that the person I had been under the thumb of wasn’t someone born into this, but had somehow joined it was almost hilarious. She couldn’t even handle me, how did she impress a bunch of slavers?

The two were quiet for a moment and then something was put into my field of view. It took me a second to realize it was a wand vibrator. “We’re here to make you feel better. If you don’t wish for a pleasure pony to join you tonight we can use this instead.”

I couldn’t help but blush. I knew they were trying to change the topic of conversation. There was no point in going back to it. “No. I don’t want that. I just want to sleep.”

“Would you like to listen to some music as you fall asleep?” Clover asked.

“Would you like me to continue the massage as you rest?” Lucky asked immediately after Clover’s question.

“Yes. To both I guess. Jazz. Please.” Thoughts were crossing my mind at a hundred miles an hour and I just wanted to sleep.

Things were so much simpler when I thought I had just been kidnapped by a psychopath. Now I was deep into something much different. Something much worse. I was in a world where people were kept as ponies to race with. That large farms could exist somewhere for decades filled with slaves that no one ever discovered.

I heard some jazz come on over some speakers that must be lining the room. I felt an involuntary yawn escape me as Lucky continued to massage my aching limbs. I settled into a restless sleep as a single question invaded my dreams.

If I truly had no means of escape, was I better off here or with Z?

[crimsonbluemoon]

Working For Love: A TerrorMoo Story 10/17

OH MY GOD IF MY COMPUTER DELETES THIS ONE MORE TIME I WILL SCREAM.

Er.... I mean, enjoy this drabble?

Previous Part

Start from the beginning

Brian wasn’t a fan of surprises. 

He liked to be a part of them when the focus was others, but he never enjoyed when the attention was placed on him. Evan always claimed it was a control thing, and that it lead to Brian always taking initiative with his potential partners. He didn’t want to be thrown off his game, whether it was in his professional or romantic life. Brian picked the same times to run classes, looked at his lists a half hour before they were due to start, and never strayed from his guided plans once the class started. It was not only safer for his participants, but it kept the area calm and left Brian little to no chances of being left unsure of what to do next.

Unfortunately, nothing would have prepared him for how he’d felt when seeing Brock cry in the locker room the week before. Tears had looked so out of place filling the brown eyes when he’d stared at Brian, as if hoping Brian could fix all the broken parts inside him. Brian didn’t know what had cut Brock so deep, what had made him tremble under soft touches and feel unworthy of compassion. But it’d been an unpleasant weight in Brian’s chest that had lingered for days after. Brock had to take two days off from the gym because of his foot, but even when he’d come back, a somber aura had settled around his shoulders like a cloak. Brian did he best to cheer him up, and at times he’d catch the glimmer of his normal smile. But Brock still wasn’t fully happy, and it left a bitter taste in Brian’s mouth. 

And then, because the universe felt like he needed another swerve, Craig showed up to his morning yoga class.

“Hey, don’t blame me,” Mini had said when Brian had tossed a glare his way. “Ingrid seduced me with blueberry vodka smoothies; how could I say no?”

“Why do you still hang out with them?” Brian asked, Craig pressing his hand to his chest with a dramatic sigh.

“These are my people, Brian. They resonate with my old soul.”

“How are you friends with Brock?”

“You worried your lover boy’s gonna realize our love potential and let me whisk him away?” Craig raised his voice enough to catch some of the ladies' attention in the class, and Brian had to bite back a swear at their curious gazes. He loved his yoga classes, and he didn’t mind being friendly with the vocal older women. But there were times when their forwardness tended to be overwhelming, such as their desire to find him a wife. 

“Ladies, please start your first position. And you-” He pressed his finger into Craig’s chest, pushing him toward the corner of the room. “Don’t start shit.”

“I would never.” Innocence looked wrong on Mini, and the faux blinks of naivety he sent to Brian made his spine tingle in discomfort. His shoulders didn’t relax until Mini plopped himself down onto his mat, sending Wanda a shit-eating grin while sliding into the first pose. 

The class, for the most part, followed the normal routine. It left Brian with the calmness that he attributed to yoga, and his mind drifted back to Brock when moving into his seated position. His eyes stared down at his ankle in silence, remembering how warm Brock’s skin had been under his touch. But the memory, which should have been embarrassing or pleasant, was tinged with sadness at the thought of Brock’s trembles. Brock said he wasn’t okay, but what had made him feel like that? Despite getting to know Brock better with each month that passed, there were still parts of him that were a mystery. He rarely dabbled in the romantic side of Brock’s past, only knowing he was interested in men from mention of ex-boyfriends. Names and time frames were never introduced into the conversations, though Brian hadn’t brought up his own either. Still, to think that Brock had looked so broken because Brian had simply allowed him to be broken-

It made his nails dig into his calves, and he switched the position to keep from punching the mat in frustration. It took time to lower his anger, but he’d captured it back into his chest when finishing the final stretch of the routine. 

“And remember that when you do these moves at home, to have a flat surface to place your mat on. Otherwise, you’re at risk of hurting yourself.” The smile he pushed forward felt more real than it had any right to at the moment. “Any questions before we wrap up?”

“When are you going to ask that young man out?” Velma asked, blue tinged hair a curled mess above hawk-like eyes. Brian caught his jaw before it could fall open, any sense of fatigue from the week vanishing from his sudden spike of adrenaline. One glance around the room proved that Velma wasn’t the only interested participant in the conversation, none of the woman moving from their mats while staring him down. It didn’t take much to realize that the question hadn’t been sporadic, but pre-planned by the group to catch him off guard. 

God, Brian hated surprises. 

“I meant about the poses-” Brian tried to start, but Mini looked far too pleased when he cut in.

“Yeah, Brian, when you gonna make an honest man out of my best friend?” Brian’s eye twitched at the feline grin that tickled the edges of Mini’s lips, bright blue eyes glancing at the attentive women while he counted on his fingers. “They’ve been flirting for months, Brock’s been single well past the allowed time after a terrible break-up, and I think we’ve all discussed enough at our Saturday Smoothie Brunch how their chemistry is simply adorable. The problem is that we all know Brock’s far too shy to ask out Brian, so he’s gotta be the one to put on his big boy pants and do the work.” 

“What a sweet boy, that Brock is.” Ingrid sighed like she wanted to be in her twenties again simply to have a chance at Brock, and Brian wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh to smack his head into the wall. 

“And just a perfect match for our Brian,” Velma added, sending another pointed look toward Brian. 

“Why is this even a topic?” Brian blurted out, wondering when it was that Craig had hi-jacked his yoga class. He really needed to get Tyler to fuck Mini just to keep him out of his hair. The women hadn’t been this riled up since Brian had forgotten to wear boxers when running on the treadmill. 

“Well, isn’t that obvious?” Mini pulled his knees up in front of him to rest his chin on them, rolling his eyes to show how unimpressed he was with Brian’s arched eyebrow. “We want Brock to be happy again. You’re not the only one who cares around him.” 

“What?” Brian blinked, genuinely stunned at the collective nods that the women shared at the answer.

“He’s been so sad lately,” Wanda continued, the hot pink lipstick emphasizing her frown. “Normally, when I see him in the gym, he gives the warmest smile. It reminds me of how my Howie used to look when we were high school sweethearts, so bright and endearing. But this past week, that shine just...hasn’t been there. And we can see how that affects your, which means that both of our favorite boys are sad.” 

“The only time we get Brock to really smile is when you’re in his orbit. Even when I’m showering him with love at the apartment, it just doesn’t get the same reaction that you do.” For the first time since meeting Craig, his voice was lacking the confident bounce that was a staple of his character. The point he was trying to make was serious, and grabbed Brian’s attention. “Brock’s working through some stuff, and I’m going to respect him by not spilling it. But that doesn’t mean he has to be alone while he’s healing. If there was someone who helped the pain, someone who maybe would treat him right, then I’ll do whatever it takes to get that guy off his ass and make a move.” 

“The double dates between you and Tyler would be so cute with Brock and Brian.” Ingrid pinched Craig’s face affectionately, and he laughed through his pinkened cheeks. Brian, dumbfounded at how much energy the group had put into Brock’s happiness, made him sit back on his mat, hands falling limp in his lap. 

“You guys really think Brock would give us a shot?” 

“Honey, that man looks ready to marry you.” Wanda’s eyes held a haze of romance, and Brian felt his smile grow at her confidence in Brock’s feelings for him.

“And that’s before he knows what you’re like between the sheets,” Mini tossed out, snickering when Brian scoffed. 

“Then again, he was there during the treadmill incident; he’s got a very good idea what you’re working with. We all do.” Never too shy to say her peace, Velma gave a pointed glance to Brian’s crotch, the rest of the woman erupting into giggles and whistles. Brian’s shock was loud for a moment, but it fell to the side when he laughed, head shaking at the absurdity of his life. But one thing was sure; they were all right. Brian didn’t need to wait for Brock to be 100% to pursue him. Brock was great now. And if he never got better, Brian would still want him for as long as he could keep him. It was strange to feel so comfortable with his decision that had seemed so impossible an hour ago. 

But life was full of surprises, and not all of them were bad.

Hee hee Mini hanging out with dirty old women is just too funny not to put it. Okay, so! I actually had a ton of fun writing this one, and this little mini story is one of my favs so far. So like, reblog, and let me know what you think! <3

[bluepenguinstories]

Happiness Overload Chapter Fifty-Six

Coriander Rule #56: Never trust someone who sits on top of a pile of popsicle sticks and obsesses over art, for such people will surely monologue.

Exhibit A, and the only exhibit to date: this Dr. Popsicle Stick Lady. Or whichever of her doctor names she gave herself. Who gives a fuck, am I right?

Now, before the rule turned out to be true, my client, Velvet, was on trial for the crime of trusting someone who had way too much fun with popsicle sticks. She didn’t know she was on trial, but she totally was. We both were, but I wanted to think I was the defense attorney. Or the prosecutor.

“I’m telling you, I’m getting bad vibes,” I tried to keep my voice low as I muttered to Velvet.

“Don’t worry. If it comes down to it, you’ve got that backpack blaster and I’ve got this gun I found.”

Tch. “Found”. More like looted off an enemy guard. Not that semantics ever helped anyone.

“Why does someone like you want to help us defeat the guys that you work for?” I called out.

She bobbed her head to and fro as if she was listening to a song. In fact, she grabbed the popsicle sticks that were in her hair and started tapping them against the pillar she sat on. “Look at all the things you can do with a little bit of arts and crafts!”

“You’re not answering my question!” I snapped.

“Oh, but I am! You see, this huge corporation claims to want what’s best for humanity, but they failed to realize that without art, Earth is just ‘eh?’ But that’s just how corporations are, aren’t they? They stifle creativity and restrict art until it’s sanitized and marketable! Just like that snappy slogan I just used! If they can’t find a use for art, they find it useless. Me? I just can’t abide. I need to show everyone all the ways art is essential to humanity!”

“But aren’t you on their side?”

“I’m on the side of art, the greatest side you can be on. As long as I’m inspired, I don’t mind where that inspiration comes from! I need to be free to explore all mediums, and even discover new ones!”

...Yep. There it was. The monologue.

I tried to look around me. I couldn’t see any form of exits besides the way we came in. Figures. If there was a way for her to have gotten out, wouldn’t she already? Considering how The Flashbulb seemed to go to great lengths to hide her existence, I had to assume that she was trapped there.

Yet another ridiculous person we just had to meet. Go-fucking-figure. Really, how could this person help us, anyway?

“Velvet, let’s just turn back and find some other way around,” I nudged her. “I don’t think we’ll find anything here.”

“Really? We found a person. That’s already one thing.”

Gah. The fu...fu...fudgetrucking nerve! Did she not notice the red flags?

Or maybe she did and she’s just confident she can use the situation to her advantage. She’s probably already thought something up. That’s just like her.

“Aaaaand...DONE!” Lord Popsicle (look, it wasn’t like anyone was going to care what I called her) announced. She held up some wooden block.

“We can’t see shit, dumbass! You’re too high!”

“Astute observation!” She dropped the wooden block down. It landed without so much as a scratch. I was hesitant to approach it, as I knew I needed to be on my guard.

“I get it, I get it! I’m a scary lady you just met who recently learned how to use popsicle sticks as chop sticks! It was hard at first, but I got the hang of it! Also, that wood block is made entirely from recycled...guess!”

“How about no?” For real, not even (if I had to guess) five minutes in and I was getting real sick of the repetition. ‘Art’ this or ‘popsicle’ that. How irritating.

“I like that! Unorthodox answer! Quite artsy!”

Velvet took a few steps forward and pointed the gun upward at our supposed helper. “I’ve got this, Corey Andy.”

“I’m going to ignore that for now,” I replied.

Why does she have to come up with the most ridiculous names? There’s no way I’m going to be referred that way.

I walked over to the wood block and picked it up. Then, my hands began to shake: it was a picture of Velvet and I, which, would have been fine. I mean, the details were amazing. Our forms were near perfect. That wasn’t the problem. No, it was that the picture was of me standing on my tiptoes and kissing Velvet’s forehead. Something that happened not all that long ago.

What started as shock and possible fear turned into anger and confusion.

“How could you…”

“How could I draw so fast? Mostly a force of habit from back when I had to finish my dad’s paintings for him.”

“No!” I shouted. My hands were balled into fists, I dropped the painting on the ground. “How could you have known? Unless…”

Beside her buzzed two little flying drones which were about the size of flies.

“Oh, that’s what you mean! I used these little bugs! They’re small enough that they can fit through the cracks within walls! It’s nice for when I need inspiration!”

“Who gave you the right?!”

Velvet turned to me. “This isn’t the time to lose your cool,” she urged me. She was right, too, and by all accounts, it must have seemed like I was making a cow out of beef jerky, but I had my reasons. I didn’t know what those reasons were yet, but they were there.

It used to be my job to spy on people. This shouldn’t bother me.

“Not only can they watch people, but they can also listen in to their conversations, and let me tell you, I’m so glad that you two found a way to get in here. I was really hoping you would. I just loved both what I heard and what I saw. The motivations, the struggles. The pain and joy. It’s all so poetic! I just had to capture your likeness.”

I dropped the painting and stepped on it. “Capture that!”

Was it petty? Sure. Would it drive home how serious I was? You betcha. No more games.

“Is it smudged?” She leaned over and looked down. “I was going to say you could keep it, as a gift, but if you want to use it in that way, that’s fine too! As long as it served some kind of purpose, I’m glad! Besides, I can always make another. The important thing is, no matter how fast or slow I am with my art, I always put effort into everything I do!”

“Look, Velvet and I don’t care!”

Velvet continued to point the gun at the art nut. “I would have phrased it better, but she’s right: we’re trying to fight an impossible battle against an entity that can’t be defeated, so if you want to help us, you’ll step aside and show us where the exit is.”

Damn. I forgot how fierce she could be when she wanted to.

“Give it up, Velvet! There’s nothing she can do to help us. Keep your aim on her and let’s walk back. If she knew where an exit was, why would she be in here?”

Velvet started to walk back, still aimed at the one atop the popsicle pillar. I pressed a button on one of the straps of the backpack and the lasers set their sights on Popsicle Lady.

“If you try anything, I swear…” I stopped myself. I sounded ridiculous. So far what had she done? Spied on us and drew a picture? In other words, a little creepy, but harmless. Velvet was right: we needed to be as efficient and free of distractions as possible. Creepy or not, if that woman wasn’t going to be our enemy, there was no need to attack her.

But as I started to walk back and try to catch up with my silk spun partner, I felt the force of something hit against me and the force thrust me against a wall.

“What the –”

I tried to move my arms, but nothing would happen. For whatever reason, I was stuck.

“What a beautiful wallflower you’ve become,” mused someone from up above.

I could hardly turn my head to face her. Whatever substance had covered me must have been pretty strong.

“What did you do?!”

“Oh, that? That’s gorilla glue! And no, in case you’re wondering, it’s not made from actual gorillas! I’m as surprised as you are, I’m sure!”

“Argh!” I tried to thrash about with the same results. No movement.

“Nothing I can do to help? Isn’t that what you said?”

“Spice!” Velvet cried out.

“Since when was that my nickname?” I groaned. Oh, it didn’t matter.

“No, I will help you two out! By drawing out your potential! True, your goal is a near-impossible one, and you were right to focus on it, but you won’t get very far without some guidance! So allow to make you my muses and become wonderful works of art!”

Ladies, gentlemen, kind folks of the jury, I rest my case.

Damn it, I really thought I was onto something. Usually I could just wing it and when an opportunity arose, I’d take it. I thought that was one such opportunity, but now look at the mess we were in.

“This is all your fault!” Coriander yelled. Whether she thought that way or was just pissed at her situation was anyone’s guess, but I didn’t blame her. “We should have never trusted this art freak!”

It’s not that I trusted her, I just thought that we had caught a lucky break. But then again, maybe I really did trust that person. Maybe I had gotten so used to finding allies recently that I believed there could have been someone in that evil lair who could help us.

You’ve gotten softer, Velvet, I scolded myself. Softer, silkier, smoother. Velvety.

I knew I’d have to take a life eventually. It went without saying that being in such a place and not expecting to have to kill was absurd. As hesitant as I may have been before, I wasn’t about to let anything happen to Coriander. So I set my sights, aimed, and…

I saw myself step forward with a pistol. She pointed it right at me. In my hand wasn’t the same heavy weapon as before, but also a pistol. We both aimed at each other, and then everything went black.

Engulfed in total darkness. Or so I thought, but there was a light somewhere. Above? A dim glow? Either way, I stood, once again.

Stop it. Stop getting distracted by this. My target is the art lady. After that, I need to free Cor...Coral? Never mind. It would come to me.

I aimed the pistol, which I somehow obtained, and shot straight ahead. I was surrounded by Velvets on all side, who also took aim, and before I knew it, confetti. Wait. Confetti? Or nothing?

That’s right. It’s all an illusion. I don’t really get it, but I just have to analyze my surroundings, focus, and then the weak point should appear in my mind.

“I know what you’re doing!” I cupped my hands and called around. “But it won’t work!”

“Cut! Cut!” The voice of the art lady boomed. “End scene! Perfect!”

“What’s going on?” I yelled in response.

“You’ve been cast in the leading role of some new blockbuster movies! But who am I, you may ask? I am the great Dr. Lynch, of course, director extraordinaire!”

I groaned. “I don’t care what you call yourself! I just want to get a move on!”

“So you’re the type of actor who gives every performance your all? Excellent! Next scene!”

I don’t think so.

I ran forward, sure that if I just broke through I would be free of the illusion, and then I could break Coriander free and together we would –

Bright, orange glow. Beat up cars. Explosions in the distance.

“Fine. I’ll bite. What kind of movie is this, anyway?”

I wasn’t sure if she’d answer, but to my surprise, she did.

“It’s an art film! Of course, all films are art, because good or bad, corporate or independent, they all have effort put into them. But, is effort the only thing that goes into art?”

I wasn’t about to answer that. I decided to wander around the city landscape a bit. Even if it was some green screen, illusion, ‘movie magic’, whatever, I didn’t see myself making much progress until I could figure out a way to exploit the situation.

Maybe I should think like a hacker, like the good old days. Only this ‘movie set’ is the software, and I’m the infection.

I went around and kicked some rubble. These “streets” were already on fire, destroyed by some unknown force that I didn’t care to know.

Off in the distance, I could see a group of people in what appeared to be superhero costumes. Jeez, what a bunch of dorks.

“Dr. Banter, I’m going to need you to get irritable!”

“That’s my secret, Admiral: I hate it when you leave the toilet seat up. I hate it when you don’t wash your hands after you use the bathroom and then wipe your dirty hands on the shower curtains. I hate when you put used paper towels in the recycling! I hate when you leave your shoes around everywhere! And when you snore!”

“Yes! More! We need you to turn into Bunk and smush Lowkey!”

I grimaced. While I didn’t know what was being referenced, it was clear this ‘movie’ was parodying something. Regardless, I wasn’t having any part of it. I picked up a brick and threw it at the group.

“Hey assholes! How do I ditch this popsicle stand?”

Everyone turned to me and looked stunned.

“It’s Black Velvet!” Admiral (I guess was his name?) pointed at me. “The secret agent who works for Condom! Why is she attacking us?!”

Condom? Really? Couldn’t they have picked a better name?

“Maybe she’s being mind controlled by Lowkey!” Someone covered in tinfoil suggested.

“You’re right, aluminum foil man! Or maybe Condom is really a front for the evil organization, Gorgon!” Some guy who looked just like a thumb suggested. Everyone looked at him in disgust. Honestly, I was too. I mean, he looked like a thumb.

“You may be the god of fungus, mighty Thumb, but you are not very bright,” Admiral replied. “Besides, that’s spoilers for the next movie! Dude, you’re not supposed to give that away.”

Are they...breaking character?!

I shook my head. It was best not to get sucked into the nonsense. What was that old saying? ‘Exit stage left’? Very well. I turned to my left and began to run.

“Smart thinking! You need to find a way to escape, don’t you?” Came the voice of ‘Dr. Lynch.’

“Gee, I didn’t know this was the director’s commentary track!” I retorted as I ran through a torn down building.

I know this isn’t real, but I don’t know how else to explain this.

“How are you doing this?”

“Should you really be asking that? That’s like asking a director ‘what’s my motivation?’ There are some things you should just know!” Her voice boomed.

She’s right. Somewhat, anyway. I didn’t know how she was doing these tricks, but I knew what my motivation was, and that was good enough.

“Mark my words, I’ll find an opening, exploit it, and break free! Then I’ll break Coriander free!”

“That’s what I like to hear! You might want to hurry, though! I hear poly...urine? Poly...uranium? Um. It’s a hard word to say, but I hear it’s quite toxic! Plus, as we speak, popsicle sticks are being dumped on her, so if you don’t hurry, she’ll suffocate to death!”

I’ll burn this whole set down if I have to. I’ll reduce every piece of “art” that she has to ash. So what if it’s true that most people don’t even “save” one person in their lifetime? As long as both Spice Bae and I are still alive, I’ll fight time and again to keep it that way.

Heh. I needed to be careful with my line of thinking; I didn’t want to be mistaken for an actual hero.

There were worse ways to die and I would have rather chosen any one of them over what was being done to me.

“So that’s just it, huh? You’re planning on confining me here until I die?!” I shouted.

“Hm? Hm?” It was like she was humming a tune. How irritating. “Oh, you can call me Dr. Bob Ross!”

“I’d rather not.”

“Very well! And to answer your question, no, I’m not just confining you. I’m confining both of you! As we speak, your little gal pal is in that little box and hallucinating up a few good movies for her to star in. I can’t wait to find out what movies she was in after she’s all done! But, if she spends too long in there, her mind will erode and wear itself out. That is, unless she finds the willpower to break free. But even if she does, that box is pretty sturdy!”

So basically I have to break myself free and break her out. Or she has to break herself free and break me out

“You two are stronger together, right? And I’m willing to bet you and her are pretty strong individually, as well. So this shouldn’t be too much of a problem, right?”

That’s right. Velvet thrives on life or death situations. As for me…

“If I could just reach the buttons on my backpack…” I muttered.

“Velvet was what you called her, right? Well then! She will become Velvet, the movie star! And you...I haven’t decided yet. But I’ll make you my muse yet. Maybe I’ll make a sculpture out of you…”

That wasn’t going to happen. No sculptures. No human arts and crafts projects. None of it.

Up another torn down building I went until I reached a floor where there were no walls and I could see the sky outstretched.

Where is there to go from here?

“If it’s all an illusion, then there isn’t very far that I can go. Theoretically,” I let out a deep breath. How hopeless. I didn’t know how to go ‘off-screen’.

“There’s no escape! I will rule all of Nude Pork City and there’s nothing you can do!” Cackled a snobby British voice.

“The...fuck city?” I jolted. Startled, I turned around and saw a skinny man in a green leotard with a horse mask on. He cackled once more.

“This movie is PG-13! You can say ‘fuck’, but only once!”

“Dude, you just said it again.”

“Fuck!” He cried out, as if he had already been defeated. The most surprising thing of the whole ordeal was that I could actually hear what he said from underneath that horse mask. “No matter! No one can defeat me, for I am Lowkey, the villain!”

I looked up. Could I find my way out by running to the highest point of the building and jumping out? But then that might just kill me. Ugh. It would really help if I had a laptop next to me right now.

“Hey! Why aren’t you paying attention to me! I am Lowkey!”

“Sorry, this just isn’t my kind of movie,” I explained.

“Heh. Heh! HEH!” He cackled once again, then pulled the horse mask off. Underneath, was an emaciated face which sported greasy black hair. Even if I swung that way, I didn’t think I’d find him all that attractive.

From his suit, he pulled out three little grenades. “You talk a big game, but you’re still human!”

“Still not my type!” I called back, then rolled over behind a pillar. He tossed the grenades my way. I thought I was a safe enough distance, but they detonated, and the explosion sent me back to the further end of the building. Not only that, but the explosion was causing the building to collapse.

I struggled to stand back up. I had to hold onto the very pillars that were crumbling.

I need to run. I need to run and tackle that guy and then get out of here.

From behind me, that same snobbish voice: “Hey cupcake!”

“What...did you call me?” I growled.

“Hey cupcake, why don’t you and I go back to my place later?” He mocked. “Velvet? Like a cupcake? Are you sweet like one too? Do you taste good like one? Hm, cupcake?”

How did that Dr. Lynch woman know that about my past? Did she really know that much about me? Just how did this movie operate?

“Shut up!” I leaped and grabbed onto his leotard, then reached into his pocket and grabbed one of his grenades. “You want to taste something? Taste this!” I shoved it in his mouth, then pulled the pin and let go.

There was little time: I needed to run down the collapsing building before it could come crashing down and reduce everything to rubble.

But isn’t that what I want? To bring it all down? To destroy the “art” that would hurt the ones I care about? Why does this building feel real, anyway? Did she create this elaborate of a set? If it’s not real, then what danger am I in? If I’m in no danger, I shouldn’t be worried about anything…

I stopped.

“Where...where did the gun go?” The one that was taken off of the guard. I had it. Then it was replaced by a pistol. Somehow.

Because it wasn’t real.

When I got to that “movie”, I had nothing. I had to use a brick. I had to use that villain’s grenades. Grenades that weren’t real.

So in other words, I have nothing. But wasn’t that par for the course? I came to The Flashbulb’s lair with nothing. I’ve had all sorts of risky endeavors, and each time, I would just acquire things as I go.

I ran anyway. For whatever reason, I ran.

No. I don’t have nothing. There’s someone I came with that I care about.

On cue, just as it came crashing down, I escaped. Not even a second after, credits started to roll.

...Wait, what?

‘The End’

Then, the list of the actors who played the characters showed up in front of me. I just couldn’t believe the whole environment was covered by text. Names I didn’t recognize to characters that didn’t matter. Then, I saw my own name. Or...my character’s name? Next to it, it listed…

“No...it can’t be…” I gulped. “Scarlett Johansson?! Really? Come on! I have more class than that!”

Then, answering my call, Scarlett Johansson’s name was crossed out, and a new name replaced it.

“ZENDAYA?!”

I shook my head. “Just stop it! Why can’t I be me?”

Thus, Zendaya’s name was crossed out as well, and finally it said:

‘Velvet as HERSELF’

I nodded my head. “Much better.”

“Stay tuned for a post-credit scene!” Boomed Dr. Lynch’s voice.

Right. There was still that matter.

“Not happening!” I shouted, then ran toward the front where the credits were and kicked forward. As I did so, I hit a wall.

Literally.

Everything turned to black. But my eyes opened once more.

There was gas all around me. I began coughing uncontrollably and it ached just to stand. I didn’t understand why, but I did my best to break free, anyway. I banged my fists against the walls.

Pounding of fists.

It seemed like I was going to lose consciousness up until that jolted me back awake. I still couldn’t turn my head. All those popsicles were growing quite heavy. But, that sound. It must have been Velvet.

If she can do that...if she’s still trying…

I had to as well. It’s not enough that she could try to break free on her own. It had be me as well.

At first, all I could manage was to twitch my fingers. With each passing second, it was getting harder and harder to breathe.

But, if I can twitch my fingers…Yes!

I balled my hands into fists and with as much pressure as I could muster, I slammed my fists against the wall. It didn’t amount to much at first, but I kept trying. After a few tries, with increased force, my arms broke free and I could move them again.

However, the pain was excruciating. I cried out. I couldn’t cover my mouth.

“Hm? Oh, hello there,” Dr. Bob Ross turned to me. I raised my arm up and pressed the button on the backpack. Lasers fired around me and broke me free from the wall. With a thud, I landed.

After I brushed off the popsicle sticks, still disgusted, I looked up toward where that mad artist was.

“I’ll break Velvet out myself, then I’ll get up there and kick your ass! Mark my fucking words, you’re dead, kiddo!”

Dr. Bob Ross burst into laughter. “Okay, okay. Congratulations are in order. But you broke free a little sooner than I expected. I’m not ready for you yet.”

I cracked my knuckles and gave a fiendish grin. “Nobody’s ready for me. I can deal so much pain.”

“I’m going to need you to stay put and wait your turn,” she didn’t seem to heed my boasts at all. I watched her spin her finger, and from the ceiling, a giant claw reached down and pried my backpack off of me.

“Hey! What gives!”

She cupped her hands together and shouted: “Popsicle house time!”

“What?!”

Something dropped in front of me. Once again, I found myself confined.

Four walls. Small, dim, with a roof that was only a little above my head. My only reprieve was one window. I looked out: the room on the outside had grown brighter. I could see the encased area where Velvet was, but I no longer heard her knocks against the walls.

She better still be alive, dammit.

I leaned my head out a little more. Next to me was another popsicle house. Someone else leaned their head out: a bearded old man with gray, curly hair.

“She locked you up too, huh?”

I wasn’t about to dignify that with a response. Instead, I walked off to the other end of the popsicle house and ran toward the wall with full force, elbow in tow. Rather than the house breaking apart, all that happened was a world of hurt.

“Ow! Ow!” I winced. “Maybe I need to try harder.” I walked back, then ran again, with even more anger and drive. Again, nothing but pain.

“God damn! Who knew popsicles could be so sturdy?”

“Welcome to Gay Baby Jail,” the old man greeted once more. That time, I peeked out of the window once again.

“What did you call me?”

“That’s the name of the cell you’re in. Once she puts you in Gay Baby Jail, you’re not getting out unless she wants you to.”

I shook my head and lowered it against the window. “This is stupid…everything is so ridiculous.”

“This is your life now. Consider yourself a gay baby.”

“Ugh…” I groaned. “I am getting out of here. I don’t care how. I have to.”

“Why?”

“Because I have someone out there...we protect each other. I’m not saying I care about her, but she’s important to me and I’m going to do all that I can to make sure she’s well!”

Once again, I tried to break the walls that held me in. I wasn’t about to accept that it was useless. There had to be something I could do.

What wonderful muses I happened to acquire. Things were going so smooth that I almost felt like I needed to shake things up more. But patience. Those two were an inspiration, sure, but inspiration wasn’t instant. So while they were kept occupied, helping me along, I had to study them well.

“Now let’s see their character bios…” I pulled up a tablet. Just about everyone’s records was stored in The Flashbulb’s database. If we didn’t have a profile on them, well...I’d just have to make one, wouldn’t I? But let’s not be too hasty.

“What did they say their names were again? Velvet...and...Coriander? Is that right?”

Velvet was easy enough. Sure, there were many Velvets in most universes, but then there was matching a name to a face. Lucky for me, that also proved to be easy. Next was Coriander.

That one was a little harder. There were a few Corianders out there. More people named Cilantro, to be honest, but that was neither here nor there. But a Coriander that had some sort of relation to the Velvet whose profile was displayed in front of me? Unheard of. So instead I refined my search to all the people associated with that Velvet until I saw an image that matched “Coriander”.

My eyes lit up. Yes! YES!

“This! This right here! This is the inspiration I need!” Oh my, how interesting things were. To learn such things about those two. I could use that.

But enough about those two. They were a little preoccupied. My little muses were making me proud, reminding me of why I got into the game in the first place.

Yes: my backstory. Or more, my “midway” story. My humble origins as an intern for The Flashbulb, back when I was still among fellow artists. “But aren’t you still an intern?” The spectators might have asked, were there an audience to spectate on my thoughts. To answer those hypothetical spectators: yes. But there was an explanation for that.

It all started back in Flashbulb University (note: Flashbulb University was not an accredited university), a school where interns for The Flashbulb went, fully funded by the Education Department. We never really learned much, but the wiser of us would join clubs, otherwise we’d just get displaced and used as fodder for whatever tasks those in proper departments wanted done.

I had wandered down the halls, having gotten as lost as ever, when I pulled out my map. At the time, I developed a keen interest in the art of map making, as well as studying architecture. As it so happened to turn out, the layout of the university was...excuse my language...uncreative. If I had my way with the layout, well...I wouldn’t do anything. That wasn’t a medium I was willing to tackle just yet.

Yes. As loathe as I was to admit, there were certain arts that I would never be able to see myself doing. The art of cooking, the art of staying organized, the art of money management. Who needed any of those skills? Not me. Especially when I could just eat whatever was made at the cafeteria. My taste buds could handle anything, and not only that, I got to experience someone else’s art. Really digest it fully (most of the time).

One day in that very cafeteria, I met up with my fellow intern buddies, Dr. O’Keefe, Dr. Kahlo, Dr. Kubrick, and Dr. Méliès. Each of us were aspiring Flashbulb members as well as members of the Painting and A/V Clubs respectively.

“Every form of art will be available to you,” Dr. Louvre told me when I first joined. So naturally, the first thing I clung to was the art of film-making.

So we all sat, some of us eating tacos, others eating escargot. Me? I ate dried squid, of course.

“So what projects have you been up to?” Dr. Kubrick opened up the discussion.

“I’m studying a venus flytrap,” Dr. O’Keefe answered.

“I’ve been staring up at the moon,” it was Dr. Kubrick’s turn.

“No way! So have I!” Dr.  Méliès replied, a hint of astonishment in his voice. Then, I glanced over and noticed the two staring into each other’s eyes.

“I see the moon in your eyes,” Dr. Kubrick uttered such words.

“I see the same in yours.”

Was that really so inspiring? Yes. In much the same way I found inspiration from a burning building, Van Gogh found inspiration from the night sky. With that in mind, inspiration could come from anywhere. No, not just anywhere. Everywhere. Every little thing.

So while everyone began to chat among themselves, I began to doodle. Nothing in particular. Unlike my father, it wasn’t so much nature that inspired me, but humanity. Rather, the vague shape that humans took on.

That must be the reason I was recruited, I thought while reminiscing. Back in the memory, I recalled what happened as soon as Dr. Kubrick and Dr. Méliès left.

Dr. Pollack showed up and slammed his fists on the table.

“Hey guys!” He looked around. “Sorry, I should be more discreet.”

He sat down. “Sorry, I’m just frustrated.”

“Having an art block?” I asked as I sipped on oyster milk.

“No. It’s this...this whole thing! Day in, day out, we’re stuck as interns.”

“Well, there’s no way out of it,” Dr. O’Keefe replied. “The Flashbulb isn’t known for its upwards mobility. If they decide to put us in a department, they will, otherwise, we’re here doing their chores for them and anything else that needs to be done that they don’t want to do. Of course, if someone decides to attack the main headquarters, they keep us around so we can be their human shields.”

“Some saviors of humanity, am I right?” He slumped over.

All that time since I’ve known them and I never realized they had such ambitions.

“You know, if you want to be part of a department so bad, it’s not all that hard?” I spoke up.

“What was that?”

“Yeah, ya heard me. Easy peasy.”

“How do you figure that? It’s not like there’s an A/V Department or an Arts and Crafts Department.”

“Of course not. But there is a Fine Arts Department.”

“Those guys? Really? They’re all a bunch of snooty snobs!”

I scowled. “The answer is right in front of you, yet you refuse to see it.”

“Fine, if you’re so smart, tell us.”

“We bring the Arts and Crafts club and the Painting club and the A/V club to them. We could be the first department with its own set of sub-departments. So if you want, present them the opportunity to expand the Fine Arts Department. Those guys love the word ‘expansion’. All you have to do is say ‘expand’ and they get all hot and bothered. Try it.”

Those three looked at each other, then ran off. Not long after, the plan was a success, and Dr. Louvre as well as Dr. Cannes approached me.

“We have you to thank,” Dr. Louvre towered over me and every syllable out of his mouth boomed. “Without your help, we wouldn’t be able to,” he drew a deep breath, breathed the words between his nondescript lips. “Expand.”

He cleared his throat. It seemed that word had quite a powerful effect on him.

“But what about you?” He continued. “Isn’t there something you should want? With your artistic talent, we could make you one of the leaders of the Fine Arts Department, alongside the likes of Dr. Cannes and I.”

I shook my head. “All I want is my own studio. Food prepared for me. All the art supplies I could ever need. An assistant. That’s all.”

“Very well. It shall be done.”

Yeah, that guy sounded so big and commanding, but in actuality, he was too afraid of my artistic talents and so the Fine Arts Department left one day to a version of Earth, with no specific mission attached. While I was content to stay in my studio, I wished they would have invited me. Shame, too. They never did come back to the headquarters, and ever since, it seemed as if most people were too afraid to visit me. They gave me food, water, any art supply I needed, but that was about it.

Oh well. That was all history (in the sense that there were many gaps and the information that was known paints an incomplete picture). I had two muses now, and I would help them reach their full potential. Speaking of, it was probably about time for Velvet’s next movie to start. It should start getting good now that the movies were going to dig deeper into her consciousness.

Ah, I should’ve known by now; the walls were too thick. My movements grew weaker. It hurt just to stand.

I need to...I need to rest a bit…I’m sorry.

Right before passing out, I had just one more thought: Aha! So that’s how it works!

Then darkness once more.

Once again, I found myself leaning against the window, my only reprieve.

Then, I heard the worst thing I could hear: nothing. No more knocks against those walls.

Has she given up?

I kicked the popsicle wall that held me and screamed out. After a few huffs, I paced about.

“She better not be dead! I won’t allow it!” I growled. “She’s too good for that!”

“Relax,” the old man in the other cell called out to me. “If anything, she’s just passed out. Her second movie is probably about to start. It usually takes at least four movies to kill someone.”

Of course. She passed out before. When she first met me from a previous life, she held me at gunpoint while I held her at laserpoint. Her gun was empty. Before my lasers could fire, the power went out. Then, she passed out. It ended up being up to me to carry her and I to a locker, as I was worried about whatever danger could have lurked. Those were memories I still had, as painful as it may have been to recap.

“That...that doesn’t reassure me.” Even still, I felt too defeated to do anything other than relax. So I went back to the window.

“Maybe if I had a lighter or a flamethrower or something…” I shook my head.

“What do you need one of those for?” The old man asked.

“Are popsicle sticks flammable? I mean, they’re wood, right?”

“Those are the questions which will haunt me up to my deathbed.”

“Don’t be such a baby,” I scolded. That was something I needed to tell myself as well, huh? Why was I so worried about someone who didn’t need worrying about, anyway? She was capable. So it was fine. Ugh. No it wasn’t.

I shook my head.

“I can’t do nothing, and it’s not because I don’t think I could survive on my own. That’s not the issue. We could both probably survive on our own. But, I mean, just in case, I’d like to be there…” No, that didn’t sound right. “Well, what I mean is, even if we could both survive on our own, I’d like us to not be on our own as long as we’re alive, y’know? Gosh, maybe I’m taking this whole ‘til death do us part’ too seriously.”

“You sure do care about her, huh? So what, you two married or something?”

“What?! Why would you think that? That’s ridiculous. Anyway,” I smiled. “Yeah, I do. Even though I was supposed to hate her, it somehow ended up like this. She can get on my nerves sometimes but I know she just likes to see my reaction. If it’s something that really bothers me, she knows not to do it. She knows when to be serious, too, and she can be really supportive.”

“Sounds like the real deal.” “Oh yeah. That’s not even going into her talents. She can find the smallest details in the shortest amount of time. Hell, she’s the very definition of ‘think on your feet’. Like, sure, most of the time she’s lazy as fuck, but then when push comes to shove, she really shines. Her hacking skills are unparalleled, and she’s so resilient. Able to take on foes far stronger than her and still maneuver around whatever obstacle in her way. Being able to improvise and use anything around her to her advantage. Honestly, she inspires me, and I hope I can inspire her too.”

I lowered my head against the edge of the window and shook it. I felt like tears were about to fall out. So, at the very least, I made sure to smile.

“What’s wrong with me?” I shook my head.

“You’re a gay baby, all right,” he sounded like a fucking sage.

“Shut it, you. No one asked.”

I thought that maybe if I used my environment to my advantage, just like how I described Velvet, maybe I could have broken out. But I saw nothing that I could use.

Even if that were the case, I wouldn’t give up.

Ugh. Talk about weird dreams. Something about a fisherman’s wife and a giant squid. Being a pirate sure was a mess.

I got up from my uncomfortable cot in my captain’s quarters and stumbled out. As my accursed luck would have it, I had a headache. Like all things, I blamed it on the sea.

Yes, that very sea in which our pirate ship, the Jo-Ann’s Revenge resided.

My body ached as I swayed to and fro, as if enchanted by a sickening sea shanty.

God damn, how much rum did I have last night?

“Mornin’ Velvetbeard,” ol’ paranoid Connard greeted in ever the dull tone. “I hear the marines have taught the parrots to read our minds. We must steady our guard.”

“Uh, yeah. Okay. Jot that down or something.”

Our crew ate our share of mackerel and sardines for breakfast all while we gathered around the table and made plans for our next raid.

“So there’s a trade ship that was spotted,” Connard reported.

“Do we know its contents?”

He nodded. “Doritos, fruit snacks, top ramen. All your favorites.”

“Hot pockets?”

“Yes.”

“Ugh...but when I think of all the sodium…” I leaned over the table and rested my head on it. “Can I just, like, go back to bed? I’ve got this massive headache and I’m tired of pirating.”

“I knew it!” The Jolly Kelly Roger barged in. “You’re not really a pirate, are you? You’re a spy for the marines!”

“The fuck? Forget the plank, I’ll throw you overboard with my bare hands.”

“Go ahead! I hear there’s a pirate ship full of catgirls and I’m prepared to swim over to them!”

I looked up. “Real shit?”

“Mm-hmm! Anyways, see ya. I’m off to cat paradise.”

Jolly Kelly Roger was never seen again.

Meanwhile, three years later, and I wasn’t quite sure what all happened, but Connard went to chill in some pyramid and I lost most of my crew. All that was left was Blanka, Connard’s best and only friend. Who for some reason decided to go with me of all pirates (people).

“How did it even come to this?” I shook my head. Three years, and the headache still hadn’t gone away. It was like a coconut kept dropping on my head every morning.

“Something something gray stoner pirates,” Blanka replied, although Blanka was no longer there.

It was up to me to take on the marines and the 51st Fleet all by my lonesome. So I did. I infiltrated their ranks by punching a hole in the bottom of their vessel and jumping up. To think it was common belief that it was impossible to sneak in. Ha.

I’ve already done it once before, in fact. Like, some odd years back. When I was a wee little Velvetbeard. My first mate, Violetbeard was rumored to have been captured by the 51st fleet, so I took it upon myself to sneak in and find her, for the thought of what horrifying things they could have done to her was too much for me to bear. Unfortunate for me, I never did find her, nor a trace that she was even there. The best I could manage was stealing a pirate ship from them. That is why the Jo-Ann’s Revenge exists.

Now, onto the sneaky pirate stuff…

“There’s gotta be something I can do,” my voice grew weary in what must have been such a short amount of time.

You’re nothing without your technology.

Maybe that was true at one point in time. Even if that was still true, anything could be technology if it could be utilized…

“Isn’t the right, popsicle stick sticking out on the ceiling?” I looked up. Such a faint hope. How to get there. But wasn’t that what my whole journey was built on? Some faint hope that I took a chance with and made it far enough to find myself where I was. So being “stuck” wouldn’t register to me. Even in my past life, though others were convinced I was stuck, I still tried and fought anyway.

There were “ledges” (so many quotations, I know. Bear with me), I could use. Flimsy, easy to break, but that lent me more hope than despair. All I needed was one, maybe even a few, and I could make my attempt…

So, one foot over the other one, and just a few steps more, and I had gotten the diamond stick in the rough. The wooden needle in the needlestack. Just as my luck had turned bright, I lost my footing and fell back onto the metal floor.

“Owwww,” I groaned. There went my youthful back. Now I welcomed the embrace of my newfound elderly back. Oh, and the embrace of several popsicle sticks. One of which, I held in my hand, and when I shook the rest off of me, I got to work.

“You okay over there?” The old man called.

“The okayest,” I scoffed. Then I got to work chiseling away at the wall in front of me.

“What are you doing, anyway?” “Well, old gay baby, I don’t know about you, but this gay baby wants to leave the crib.”

“She can see you, you know.”

“Let her try and stop me.”

“How bold.”

“I’m not bold, I just happened to make the first move.”

“Bold statement.”

That guy was frustrating me. But, deep breaths, I tried to play it cool.

“What are you even in there for, anyway? I just realized I never thought to ask.”

“I was hired as her assistant after the last one got set on fire and had to be hospitalized. I told her that her paintings should have more men in them, especially men in diapers. She scowled, put me in a diaper, then kept me in here.”

“Oh jeez. I’m sorry.”

“Why? It’s not all that bad once you get used to it. I actually rather enjoy it. Plus, I don’t have to go to the bathroom, because I’m always already there.”

Ew. Ew. EW.

“Okay, uh, what was your name again?”

“Dr. Michelangelo.”

That made too much sense.

“Okay, Dr. Michelangelo. You stay right there. I’m not breaking you out.” Once I was free, I hoped and prayed that I never had to meet him again.

Hold on, Velvet. This gay baby is learning to crawl.

So far, so good. The whole sneaking business was a go. Then came the inevitable.

“Jolene, I know you’re there! You stole my man!”

Shivers ran down my timbers. The unmistakable voice of Mustachebeard, the fearsome vice-admiral for the marines. For the record, yes, I did say I was Jolene when I infiltrated their ship last time, but no, I did not steal anyone’s man.

I did my best to avoid detection, knocking marines out one by one as I traversed the hallowed halls of the ship. I stole a musket off of one of the marines, which really helped once I made it above deck of the ship and found one of the vice-admiral’s lookouts. I ran up to her and before she had the chance to pull out her weapon, I pointed the musket I had looted right at her face.

“Y’arr. Name’s Velvetbeard. I’m here to steal your heart.”

“You,” she growled. “I heard you’re the worst pirate to have ever existed.”

“Nah, there’s worse. There’s gotta be, right? I mean, I can’t be that bad, can I?”

I pulled the trigger, but nothing happened. As it turned out, the musket had no ammo. That, and I didn’t know how a musket worked.

“Nice try,” she smirked. “Now men! Fire!”

Behind her was a firing squad, which meant that I was as good as dead. But instead, everything went black. Everything began to spin in place.

That girl, whatever her name was...was kind of cute.

Yes. There was the headache, in full force. My head felt ready to split itself open and all the contents would spill forth for the world to see. It all felt both so uneasy and yet so familiar. As if it was all a rehash of something that I had been a part of before. Something long gone.

It was but a small opening, but that opening was good enough for me. Like a baby, I crawled through and as soon as I was out, I ran over to the metal box that Velvet was trapped in. I kept banging my fists against it.

“I’m impressed, but at the same time, I wish you’d slow it down! She’s got at least two more movies left in her! The next one will surely dig deep into her psyche.”

“Not. Gonna. Happen,” I growled.

That same gloved metal claw came, likely to pick me up. Some artist Dr. Bob Ross was if she thought I was going to be fooled twice. I swerved to my side to avoid the reach, then I grabbed on to the metal spring and I began to hit the wall with the metal claw.

I was awoken by that same lookout, the one I thought was kinda cute. We were in the middle of a cabin. She shook me awake. As it stood, I was grape jelly.

“Come on, we gotta work together if we wanna make it out.”

“Ugh...what happened?” I rubbed my forehead.

“We were invaded by the Polo Wearing Pirates. Fearsome bandits, they are. As much as I hate to admit it, I need your help. Everyone else aboard the ship has died.”

“Oh, I see what’s going on. Some kind of enemies to lovers type thing, right?”

“Wrong. This is serious. We will never be anything more than enemies.”

“Then why did you kiss my forehead?”

I paused.

She was gone. I was somewhere else. In the clouds? Or aboard another pirate ship. Or in a room, where my former first mate was, Violet. Just Violet.

“Why hello,” Violet greeted.

“What...what are you doing here?”

“You wanted to see me. So I am here.”

“But…” It was ten years. Tears began to trickle down. “I can accept you being gone.”

I knew where I was. At a park. Close to where the school was.

“You’re still the same timid Velvet I knew.”

“How do I escape this movie?” I demanded. Was it me coming back to my senses? No. It was just something that came out.

She approached me. Between the high seas and what I thought to be the closing credits. But maybe they were cornflakes in the wind.

“You wish you knew what happened to me. But you never will. That you may have accepted, but it will still be on your mind. The thought of what became of me. Whether I lived or died, and if I lived, have I lived a good life?”

I shook my head. “Maybe I wonder from time to time. Maybe you will always be someone that I’ll miss. But you know what? So will anyone else that I meet. I’ve accepted that I’m not the type to forget people, no matter how big or small the impact. So...deal with it.”

Yes. That was what they called a flashback. Or forward. Or somewhere in between, on the side. Because I was still next to that blue haired spice.

“So you see, ten years ago there was someone who knew me as someone else. I’m still an anxious person from time to time, but I’m also much more than that. In fact, some would even go as far as to call me ‘badass’.”

“What are you talking about?” My enemy, not lover, asked.

“I...maybe you’ll find out in a later stage of our relationship,” I teased. We got up, but I fell again.

“Sorry,” I croaked. “Now I must inform you that I feel like I am dying.”

My eyes. They eclipsed.

Pounding sounds began to erupt, like my own heartbeat. I clutched my chest, but that didn’t feel right.

“Oh no!” The blue haired wonder cried out. “We have to hurry! The ship is exploding! Our ship is going down!”

I tried to get up, but I could feel the heat. Smoke rose up all around us and I started to cough. Not only was the rest of the ship on fire, but so were my lungs.

There.

At last, the box was broken. Gas leaked out and dissipated. I covered my mouth, but I could still feel the effects making me dizzy. Not to mention that I already felt weak from my previous two ordeals.

I looked around and there Velvet was, on the floor. I rushed to her.

“Hey! Hey!” I shook her.

“Our ship is sinking…” I heard her mutter.

“No it’s not! See, I’m right here!”

I held her against me. It took me a few more seconds to register that she was just asleep, but even still, I needed her awake. Then, I thought of something.

“Hey if you wake up, I’ll kiss you on the lips.”

Her eyes shot open. “Real shit?” She uttered with a groggy voice. Then she looked over and saw that it was me, “oh hey, enemies to lovers.”

I groaned. “I wish you wouldn’t remind me.”

Now, there was just one other matter to attend to...but before I could get to that, Velvet tugged at my shirt collar.

“What about the kiss?”

“Can’t it wait? We’re in the middle of a fight.”

“No.”

I let out an exaggerated sigh, then leaned in and gave her a peck.

“Really?! That’s it?! Come on!” She jolted up.

“I’ll do it for real later,” then I turned my attention to what was behind her: the gun that she had before passing out. I took it and almost dropped it, the damn thing was so heavy. Just a few more steps, though, and I would then part with it.

“Hey Popsigirl!” I yelled.

From atop the pillar, I saw a hand emerged which then proceeded to wave at me.

I growled, then threw the gun at the pillar. All the popsicle sticks began falling down, one by one, as the mad artist’s tower crumbled.

Court dismissed.

[darks-ink]

Absurdism Chapter 12

*casually drops headcanons all over this chapter*

Rating: Teen/K+ (a lil swearing, because teenagers, man) Warnings: - Genre: Family, Hurt/Comfort Additional Tags: Sibling Bonding, Family Bonding, Alternate Universe - Halfa Jazz AU, Jazz makes friends

[AO3] [FFN] [more Absurdism on Tumblr] First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

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Chapter 12: Control Freaks

Cold air curled in Jazz’ lungs, and she paused in her flight. She’d been expecting it, yes, but not this soon. Normally her ghost sense wouldn’t pick up on Sidney until she actually entered the school. To have it go off this soon… Was he outside?

Concern niggled in her brain, and she turned herself invisible. She would just check the school grounds and make sure he wasn’t in any trouble. During times like these, she wished she was as good as a tracker as Phantom, but apparently that was a hard skill—and a late one.

Luckily it wasn’t that hard to find Sidney. He was hidden from the crowd of students, but not actually hidden hidden.

More surprising was the person he was apparently talking with: Valerie.

Jazz bit her lip, hesitating for just a moment. Should she listen in? No, definitely not. That was just… creepy. She could just join it like a regular person. A better question would be, join as Specter or join as Jazz? But that, too, was an easy question to answer.

She ducked into a bush—not too close, but not overly far away—and shifted back to her human form. It was Jazz, after all, that had connections to both Valerie and Sidney, and who had encouraged Valerie to be nicer to ghosts.

A few determined steps brought her back towards her talking… friends? Was friends the right word to use? Sure, whatever, she was allowed to call them friends in her internal dialogue. A few determined steps brought her back towards her talking friends, and Jazz pushed her way through the brush, glancing between human and ghost.

“Hey, thought I heard your voices. What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Valerie quickly assured her. Next to her, Sidney nodded. Huh. That was surprising.

Jazz shot them both a doubtful look. “Last time I checked, Valerie, you still thought ghosts were scum, and you only talked to Sidney because he had information about Ember, and only while I was there. What changed?”

Valerie shrugged kind of uncertainly. She didn’t say anything.

“Oh, well.” Jazz looked at Sidney, but he wasn’t any help either. “Would it help if… I told you about how we met? Sidney and I?”

“Yeah, I’ve been wondering about that, actually.” Valerie nodded.

“Alright, so.” Jazz clapped her hands together, grinning at Valerie, and ignoring Sidney’s nerves. Now, how to tell this story with as little lying as possible but without giving away her secret… “So, ghosts were kind of becoming a generally known thing, right? Obviously my parents already believed in them, but now proof was coming out that ghosts really are real, yeah?”

Valerie nodded along, and Jazz continued. “And I saw some kids getting bullied, and I… I just hate that. Having to watch it happen to other kids, knowing they won’t target me, but also being powerless to stop it. So I started wondering… If ghosts are real, who says that the Sidney Poindexter from those Casper High rumors isn’t also real?”

“Okay…” Valerie said, slowly. “So then why did he suddenly start showing up? Did you meet him afterwards, and was he—” She turned to Sidney, “You, sorry, were you lured here by something? Why did ghost activity go up so much?”

Sidney shot Jazz a worried glance, then, cautiously, explained. “I have a special portal to the Ghost Zone, and only I can go through it. Jazz found it, and must’ve guessed that that was it, because she tried talking to me through it. That’s when I started becoming active around here, and we actually spoke not too long after.”

“I see…” Valerie’s eyes narrowed in Jazz’ direction, almost suspiciously, but she nodded anyway. “What about Specter and Phantom? They seem pretty set on stopping other ghosts from coming here. Didn’t they have a problem with you, or can you avoid them with your portal?”

“It’s not like that,” Sidney immediately corrected, shaking his head. “It’s not— they’re not like animals, it’s not some kind of territorial dispute. There are lots of ghosts out there that could—and would—hurt humans if left to their own devices. Usually not on purpose, although exceptions exist, but because they don’t know any better. Most animal ghosts, for example, and plenty of more intelligent ones as well. It’s…”

He made a face. “It’s kind of hard to remember, sometimes, how easy it is to hurt a human. If you’ve been a ghost for a while. Jazz warns me, sometimes, if I toe the line. If my retaliation against bullies becomes a little too much. But not every ghost has human friends, or contacts, or would even care if they accidentally got a little too rough. That is why Phantom and Specter patrol, and help the town. And sometimes…”

Sidney shrugged, smiling a little. “Sometimes they help ghosts, too. They gave me some of the earlier pointers, on how far I could reasonably go, and how to stay safe from ghost hunters. On places I could go to see… the see life, to see the human world, without getting pounced on by ghost hunters.”

“I… see.” Valerie nodded, slowly, and Jazz could almost see the gears turning in her head. “So there might be… more ghosts, out in Amity, and no one but them would know about it?”

“Possibly,” Sidney agreed. “But I don’t think many of them stay for long. Natural portals are finicky, and portals like mine are, well, extremely rare, and only work for one ghost. Most of the others that travel to Amity come through the Fenton’s artificial portal, but that’s…” He made a face. “Well, you kind of have to pass through a ghost hunter’s lab just to come and go. Not exactly a risk many ghosts like running.”

“So why not just camp out here?” Valerie asked, quirking an eyebrow. “If coming and going is so dangerous, what’s stopping them from just setting up base in the city proper, and not returning to the Ghost Zone?”

“They can’t,” Jazz said, drawing the attention back to her. “Well, most ghosts can’t, anyway. They need some form of energy to fuel themselves, or they’ll burn out. They usually get it from the ectoplasm in the air, which is high in the Zone, and which the portals expel. It’s still kind of high in Amity in general, so ghosts can last a while, but they’ll burn out sooner or later. Some ghosts can gain energy from different sources, though. Ember, for example, could draw power from her fans. Other ghosts might draw energy from, for example, human emotions, or even actual electricity.”

Valerie shook her head. “But if it’s so dangerous, why do they even try? If they have to get past ghost hunters just to come here, why would they risk it? What’s so alluring about the human world, or so bad about the Ghost Zone, that ghosts feel like they have to come here?”

“It’s curiosity and interest, mostly.” Sidney frowned a little, in thought. “I can’t speak for everyone, of course, and I’m not sure if I would’ve come here if I had to go through the hunter’s portal, but… the Ghost Zone gets boring, if you spend enough time there. I mean, ghosts don’t sleep, usually, so we just spend day in day out in the same place. After a decade or two, or in my case, fifty years, wouldn’t you risk potential danger just to see something else? And, yes, the world changed while you were out, and isn’t that so interesting? If you had the chance to see what the world looked like in fifty years, and even at some risk, wouldn’t you?”

“And you have to remember, Valerie, that ghosts are sturdier than humans,” Jazz pointed out. “Just getting hit by a few shots from an ecto-gun isn’t that painful to most of them, and they heal faster, too. As long as they don’t actually get captured for research, run-ins with ghost hunters aren’t that dangerous.”

“So it’s just like… boredom? Wanting to see something different, combined with the fact that traveling here isn’t that much of a risk, even with the ghost hunters?” Valerie’s eyes narrowed a little, again, but it seemed thoughtful now. Jazz wondered if Valerie knew how probing her questions were, if she realized how suspicious this all sounded without the background knowledge of Red talking to Phantom last night.

“Basically,” Sidney admitted with a shrug. “Some of us have different reasons too, of course. Personally, I greatly dislike bullies because of my experiences with them in life, and being able to stop other kids from suffering through the same… I like that, being able to help. Other ghosts might come here to pursue specific interests, too, or to do things they’re passionate about, but can’t do in the Zone.”

“Right, so—” A loud screeching sound interrupted Valerie, suddenly, startling all three of them. The school bell, Jazz realized. Whoops. She’d gotten so caught up in the conversation that she forgot.

“Ah, shit,” Valerie swore, snatching her backpack off of the grass. “Jazz, we have the same class first, right?”

“Yeah.” She ran through the contents of her backpack, quickly. Did she have everything? Yeah, she thought she did. “Do you need to stop by your locker?”

“Nope. Come on, let’s go!” Valerie already started rushing towards the school when she slowed, turning to call over her shoulder. “And Sidney? Thank you for talking to me!”

Jazz was already hurrying after Valerie when she heard Sidney get over his surprise, and yell back, “No problem! Thank you for listening!”

---

Danny dove low over some of Amity’s buildings, twisting himself into a curling maneuver that was perhaps just a tad unnecessary. So what? He liked flying!

Something in his peripherals drew his attention, and Danny found himself coming to an abrupt halt. It niggled in his mind, somehow, although he didn’t know what he’d seen.

He turned, trying to figure it out. What could he possibly have seen—

oh.

Freakshow’s giant blown-out face grinned at him, the printed image of the red crystal ball instantly drawing Danny’s eyes back to it. It itched in his brain, the swirling—

No!

Danny clenched his eyes shut, trying to draw up mental walls to block the image. No! Not fucking again!

He forced himself to continue flying in his original direction, keeping his eyes shut until he felt confident that he’d gone far enough. When he reopened them, he stubbornly refused to look back, no matter how his mind niggled at him that he should.

It was far enough from FentonWorks—and Casper High—that Jazz wouldn’t come across it. Danny could tell her about the ads when they met in the woods, make sure she knew about the danger. He would have to put a little more thought into Freakshow, figure out how they could deal with him.

Well. Not them, that was for sure. He wasn’t going anywhere near Freakshow and his crystal ball, and Jazz definitely wasn’t.

He touched down in the clearing, Jazz’ innocent youthful face greeting him. No, he definitely couldn’t let her go anywhere near Freakshow. He’d rather die.

“Sorry, I didn’t keep you waiting for too long, did I?” he asked, running his hands through his hair in a hopeless attempt to flatten it some. Just… appear normal, and think it over while training. That’d be alright.

“No, it’s fine.” Jazz cocked her head, a slight frown to her brow, but didn’t comment. “What are we working on today?”

“Well, you’ve got a pretty good grip on both ecto-rays and shields, so we can move to more advanced techniques.” But more advanced offensive techniques weren’t really Jazz’ jam, were they? “We can see if you can get a grip on something elemental, like electricity, or even ice or fire, or we can try something more neutral. There’s this one technique which I can do, but that I’ve never seen Vlad do, that’s like an exploding shield? Like a field which pushes enemies away. You might be able to learn that, if that’s more your style.”

“Hm. Focusing on more defensive techniques would make my core lean more towards those skills, right?” Jazz twirled a strand of hair, clearly thinking it over. “It would be good to focus on offensive techniques too, especially if I can use them in a variety of situations, but the repulsion field sounds useful too.”

Danny nodded. “We can focus on the repulsion field today, and try something elemental the next time. Actually, it might be good to give you homework for that.”

“Homework?” Jazz repeated, almost incredulously. “Wow, now you sound like a real teacher. What would homework for this even mean, besides using my powers?”

“Well, elemental powers are finicky. You know how most ghosts tend to focus on a single element, which in turn lead to people concluding that ghost cores must be element-based?” Jazz nodded, and Danny continued. “Right. Obviously that’s not the case, but most ghosts still lean towards a single element, or two at max. Beyond that, it gets really complicated to be well-trained in them, and you’ll notice that control and power will go down.”

“Okay,” Jazz said, slowly, drawing out the word, “But how does that factor into homework?”

“I want you to feel out elemental leanings.” He formed a shard of ice, holding it up for Jazz to see, then ran lightning over it. “Personally I lean towards electricity, and I picked up ice thanks to a mentor in the Zone. I can do some fire as well, but it’s lesser, because I haven’t focused on it much. I want you to focus on… well, everything, really. See if there’s anything that you particularly feel connected to.”

Jazz nodded, and Danny nodded back. “Right, so, that’ll be your homework. For now, the… what did you call it? Repulsion field? That’s a good name for it, I like that.”

She snorted. “Thanks. Can you show it first, so I know what I’m trying to learn?”

“Yeah, of course.” He floated up and away a little, making sure that Jazz wasn’t too close. Then he curled up in a ball, gathered ectoplasmic energy around himself, like forming an ecto-blast but not in the palm of his hand. The energy gathered, coiling and swirling in a ball around him. When he was satisfied that it was enough for a demonstration, he pushed.

The energy blasted away from him, grass and leaves rustling in the sudden rush of wind.

“Wow,” Jazz breathed, but she was grinning when he looked at her. “That’s so cool! I definitely want to learn how to do that.”

Danny drifted closer again. “Right, so there are a few elements to it, but it’s pretty similar to ecto-blasts and shields. First, you’ll want to curl in tight—less surface for the energy to spread over. Built up the power like an ecto-blast, but around your whole body, rather than just your fist. But it’s gotta be strong like a shield! And then, when you think it’s ready—or when you can’t hold it anymore—push! Uncoil yourself and shove the energy from a shield into a blast!”

Jazz nodded along. “I think I got it. Like a shield, except you can push the energy out into a blast.”

“And curling up into a ball! That’s important, since it’ll help you make the push. Putting a physical element into it—like thrusting out your hand for a blast.”

“Gotcha.” Jazz pushed herself off of the ground, but didn’t quite curl into a ball yet. “How will I know if it’s enough energy?”

“It’s just experience, really.” Danny shrugged. “Kind of like ecto-blasts, you get used to compare energy to power. You can start off easy and build up. That’ll be better for your core, too, and it’ll be like a warming-up exercise.”

She snorted. “I thought there were no warming-up exercises for ghost powers?”

“Oh, shut up,” he said without heat, rolling his eyes. “Feel free to overload your core by accidentally drawing out too much energy if that’ll make you feel better.”

“I take back what I said, you’re a terrible teacher,” Jazz joked, curling up into a small purple ball. Golden energy startled swirling around her, slowly growing denser.

When she pushed out, the blast only gave off a little energy, the grass barely waving in its wake.

“Oh,” she muttered, quietly. Disappointed. “That…”

“Was a good start,” Danny finished for her. “You’re figuring out the technique first, and the power second. Better to start off weak, but know you’re doing it right, than go for too much and accidentally explode your arm, or something.”

“Ugh.” Jazz made a face. “Did you really have to go that visceral with it?”

No, but he was probably already in a bad mindset from thinking about Freakshow. He shrugged at Jazz, though, instead of vocalizing that. “It worked, didn’t it? Now go ahead, you’re not gonna get any better by chatting about it.”

She sighed, almost petulantly, but curled back up again.

Danny watched her repeat the move several more times, every attempt growing more powerful. When her blast left the trees wavering with aftershocks, Jazz held up a hand, stopping Danny before he could compliment her.

“What’s up with you today?” she asked, frowning at him. “And don’t give me that face. You’ve been distracted the whole time.”

He hadn’t thought he was that obvious about it, but… well, this was Jazz he was dealing with. She could probably see through him like it was nothing.

“It’s… eugh. An upcoming confrontation, I guess.” He shrugged, vaguely. “It’s this one human guy, except he has an artifact that allows him to control ghosts, including us, in both human and ghost form. I ran into one of his ads today, and it reminded me that we gotta deal with him, except we can’t deal with him, and—”

He stopped. Slapped himself in the face, and groaned dramatically. “Of course. We can’t deal with him, but we can sic Valerie on him! She’ll be immune to his staff, and she’ll be enticed to do it because he forces ghosts to do crime, and that’s bad.”

“Right.” Jazz stared at him, her golden eyes piercing right through him. She must’ve realized how he’d discovered that the staff worked on them. “And that’s not… a problem? Sending Valerie to deal with it?”

“Probably not. Sam and Tucker shattered it in my universe, and doing so freed all ghosts under its control,” he explained, ignoring the way his stomach curdled. They didn’t break it, not like that, but… it was easier than explaining the truth. “I don’t know how Val feels about us two, exactly, but if we explain that this guy can make us do terrible things… I bet that that would do the trick.”

“Yeah, that seems likely.” She frowned, still. “What… How does it work, exactly? Like, can we resist it, somehow?”

“Not… really.” He scratched the back of his neck, pushed down the desire to fly away and never talk about it again. “Any command you hear while seeing the crystal ball, you must do. There’s no stopping it, it just… drowns you out entirely. Don’t even look at the ads, although you might be able to push those out. The TV ads, especially, are a no-go.”

His grim tone seemed to function as a wake-up call, because she nodded, and didn’t push. “Valerie sounds like a good plan, yeah. Do you want to go look for her now?”

“Nah.” He shook his head. “We’re training now. I’ll talk to her later, and you can do your homework. Like, your real actual homework.”

“Yeah, alright,” Jazz allowed. “But we probably shouldn’t continue for too much longer, in that case.”

“Probably,” he agreed. “That’d be better for your core, too, if we don’t strain it like that.”

“One more, then?” She was already lifting up from the ground, curling into a ball.

“Better make it good!”

She laughed as her golden ectoplasm gathered around her. “I’ll give you a show, alright!”

The energy burst with such power that it knocked Danny over entirely. The woods rattled with the wind, branches snapping off and raining down.

“Uh, whoops.” Jazz laughed sheepishly. “That was maybe a little too much.”

“Maybe,” Danny agreed, floating upright again. “But you might need that much if you’re surrounded by ghosts. It was a good lesson, anyway.”

Jazz nodded. “Good luck with Valerie. Let me know if there are any problems.”

“I can handle it, Jazz.” He rolled his eyes, exasperatedly. “But, yes, I’ll let you know if there’s anything you need to worry about. Good luck with your homework. Both human and ghostly.”

“Yes, Mr. Phantom.” She stuck out a tongue, a warm green, but pulled it back in quickly. Too childish, probably. “See you Friday.”

She pushed off, and he watched her go. “And avoid those Freakshow ads!” he shouted after her, feeling satisfied at her wave back.

Well. No putting it off any longer.

Danny let himself float up as well, flying back to Amity at a more casual pace. He could go looking for Valerie, yes, but he would probably have more luck drawing her to him. She had ghost scanners, but he didn’t have any human scanners.

He hovered over a quiet street—after making sure no Freakshow ads were nearby—and pretended to be looking for something. It didn’t take long for the roar of Valerie’s hoverboard to reach him.

Ah. He loved it when something went according to plan for once.

“Phantom. Looking for something?” Valerie asked, pulling to a halt beside him.

“You, actually,” he admitted easily. “Specter and I could use your help with something.”

Her posture was tensed—and had tensed up even further when he spoke—but she didn’t raise her gun. “With what?” she asked, shortly.

“Have you seen the ads for that goth circus? With their ringmaster, Freakshow?” He waited for her nod before he continued. “His staff has this weird crystal ball, bright red? It’s… I don’t know what it is, actually, but it can used to control ghosts. All of the people in Freakshow’s show are ghosts he’s forcing to participate, and that’s not the only thing he uses them for.”

“It’s not?” Valerie sounded almost incredulous.

“Nah. Apparently circuses don’t pay enough, because Freakshow has his ghost army stealing, too. You can follow the trail through the few cities he’s been in, and he’ll start doing the same here, probably. Might even try luring Specter or I out in the open so he can control us as well, since we’re tons stronger than the ghosts he has now. We know better, but, y’know.” He shrugged.

“You can’t come nearby without getting affected?” she guessed.

“Yeah, basically.” He huffed out something that was almost a laugh. “Besides, it would be better to let the human hunter deal with the human enemy. We wanted to call the police on him for the robberies, but someone needs to deal with the staff first. As long as Freakshow has his army of ghosts, he can just use them to escape from the law.”

Valerie nodded. “Gotcha. I’ll investigate, and if you’re speaking the truth—which I bet you are, because this sounds too crazy to be a lie—I’ll deal with Freakshow.” She made a face. “Ugh, is that really his name?”

“Stage name, I think. I don’t exactly do research on my enemies, though.” He shot her a grateful grin. “But, hey, thanks. Specter and I really appreciate it.”

“I’m not doing it for you,” Valerie said, coarsely. “But whatever. I’ll make sure you don’t have to worry about that crystal ball anymore.”

That… seemed like a strange way to word it. Ah, whatever. He was probably just being paranoid, now, driven up by Freakshow’s reappearance.

“Right. Well, thanks anyway. Have a good night, Red.”

She nodded. “Yeah, sure. Whatever.”

Her hoverboard roared as she left again.

---

“Did you hear?” Jazz asked Valerie, once she thought the locker room had gotten empty enough to get away with it. “About that guy’s arrest?”

“Who, the creepy ringmaster that could literally control ghosts?” Valerie scoffed. “Yeah. Did your parents go crazy about that?”

“Kinda, yeah.” Jazz straightened her shirt, then reached for her hair. Started twisting it up into a ponytail. “I’m glad, though. Imagine how powerful that guy could’ve gotten if he managed to get his hands on a really powerful ghost, like Phantom?”

Valerie hummed, but didn’t say anything. Jazz turned slightly to squint at her.

“What?” Valerie asked, raising an eyebrow. Her expression was… weird, though. Hard to read. “Yeah, I guess that that could’ve been bad. No point in speculating, though. For all we know Phantom and Specter just wanted us to deal with Freakshow, and are now free to hurt the city.”

Jazz felt her stomach roil. “Do you really think that?” she asked, lowering her hands again. The end of her ponytail brushed along her neck, something it didn’t do in her ghost form—the strands defied gravity like that.

Valerie seemed to stare at her for ages.

“Not really,” she finally said, after what felt like forever. “I just…” Valerie sighed and shrugged, taking her eyes off of Jazz. She walked out of the locker room before Jazz could say anything.

“Weird,” she muttered to herself. It was almost like Valerie… knew. But there was no way, right?

Just paranoia. Things were weird, so of course she was overly wary. Nothing to worry about.

[keeroo92]

Hey! Got a prompt idea for ya! I have a great need for some soul crushing angst with fluffy good end with V & reader. Where V falls hopelessly in love with reader but thinks she doesn't want him (she does want him). He yearns so much for her, it hurts & consumes his thoughts constantly. He even acts on his want alone (NSFW) and feels guilty, but won't tell her his love for her until some breaking point. You know, that one-sided pining that ends being mutual drama but with lots of hurt first.

Sorry this one took a while, but to be fair it’s quite long. Set in an AU where V and Vergil are roommates. I hope this has enough angsty pain for you :D Also, this is my first work with a gender neutral reader, yaaaaaay!

Word count - 3,707

_________________________

V had a serious problem.

He couldn’t find his book anywhere.

Last night, he left it on his bedside table as he always did, and this morning he woke to find it gone. He checked everywhere he could imagine, from under the bed to the freezer, but to no avail.

Then he remembered his roommate’s new puppy.

Oh no…

He ran to the living room, already fearing the worst. His white-haired roommate was in the middle of his morning meditation, sitting quietly with his eyes closed. V normally wouldn’t dare to interrupt, but this was too important.

“Vergil! Where’s Yamato?”

Vergil opened a single eye to glare at V, his displeasure clear. He huffed, barely opening his lips to respond. “In my room, why?”

But V didn’t answer, already on his way to the bedroom in question, panic in his eyes at the idea of his most cherished possession on the paws of the destructive two-month-old Shiba Inu.

He opened the door and gasped.

Paper littered the floor, tiny scraps of it still floating down to land around the dog. She had the remnants of his beloved volume between her paws, a section in her mouth as she shook her head back and forth to kill it, growling.

���No! Bad dog, drop it!” V cried, stepping forward to tug what was left of the cover from her grasp. She released it instantly, Vergil’s hours spent training her with basic commands coming in handy. She looked away guiltily as he grimaced at the slobber coating the once pristine pages. V sighed and praised the horrible animal for its obedience, even though he’d much rather throttle her or shove her nose into the carpet. The damage was done, and punishment would do nothing to restore his book.

So, he gathered as many scraps as he could find, sealing them in a plastic bag with a heavy heart. As he grabbed his coat, he caught a glimpse of Vergil disciplining the young puppy in the living room.

“We do not destroy others’ belongings, that’s bad,” Vergil explained to the animal, and she cocked her head to the side as if she understood. V shook his head and left.

The bookstore down the street was one he’d never visited, content to read the familiar pages of his childhood treasure. He didn’t even know if they repaired books, but it was all he could think of to try. Inside the brick building he found a glorious sight – racks upon racks of books, too many to count. Several people were milling about browsing, a few sitting in overstuffed chairs and reading. It was close to silent, only the turning of pages and occasional scraps of conversation filling the air.

I should have come here long ago.

“Hi there! My name is Y/N. Can I help you find anything?”

V turned to face the bright and youthful voice. It belonged to a young person outfitted in a dark shirt and pants wearing a name tag. An employee of the store with excellent timing.

“Yes, actually. I need this book repaired,” V replied with a smile. He held out the bag and waited for assurance that it could be salvaged.

“Oh! Uh, well… I really wish I could help you, but that looks beyond repair. What on earth happened?”

V’s face fell, shoulders sagging in disappointment. He took the bag back with a slight frown. “My roommate’s dog happened.”

You grimaced in sympathy and nodded knowingly. “Maybe we can find another copy of it? What was the title?”

V gazed mournfully at the remains of his prized tome. He couldn’t believe it was so destroyed, beyond repair as you’d said. It felt like he’d lost a friend.

“The Complete Works of William Blake, but it was customized. Of great sentimental value,” he responded. You shuffled your feet and chewed the inside of your cheek.

“I see. Maybe some of it’s in good enough shape? A partial restoration might be possible, though some portions would be missing.”

V handed the bag back gratefully; even a partial repair would be of great comfort. You took a closer look and smiled, gesturing for him to follow you as you led him to a counter nearby. You pulled out the larger sections, the cover and a few intact pages. V noticed several scraps that belonged to the same page and assembled them neatly, using his memory to recreate the page with one of his favorite poems on it.

“Yeah, we could get about three quarters of it fully restored. It’ll take a few weeks, is that all right?” you asked.

“Thank you, that would be superb.”

V gave the details necessary and accepted the receipt, carefully stowing it in his wallet for safekeeping. He felt much better, though his heart still ached for the loss. There was no way to know which poems were lost, perhaps another copy would be wise after all?

He voiced the thought aloud and you smiled. He followed you to a section labeled as poetry, watching as you located the specific shelf of his favorite poet and pulled out an especially well-made version.

“Here’s my favorite edition. It has a genuine leather cover and a ribbon to mark your place, and it features this nice paper, I love the texture of it. Here, take a look!” you said, holding it out for his inspection with a glimmer of excitement in your eyes. He hadn’t noticed their color before, but now found it difficult to look away.

He shook himself mentally and examined the volume. You were right, the pages had a wonderful roughness to them that reminded him of homemade paper. The leather cover was a nice touch, too.

“This is perfect, thank you.”

“My pleasure! All set?”

He nodded and within moments, he was out the door with his purchase. When he opened the door and stepped into his residence, Vergil and Yamato were gone. He took advantage of the silence and made a cup of tea, settling in under his favorite lamp to read his new treasure. Yet the flowing script didn’t hold his attention and his mind drifted back to the color of your eyes and the sound of your voice. There was something about you that captured his interest, and he puzzled over it throughout the next few days.

It was less than a week before he returned to the bookstore. V tried to convince himself he simply wanted to find another volume to enjoy, but the truth was that he wanted to see you again. There was an odd fluttering sensation in his gut as he opened the door and saw you at the register, busily cashiering.

I’ll have to buy something, then.

He wandered aimlessly for a few minutes, passing by new releases and cookbooks without a second glance. The classic literature section caught his attention, and he selected a copy of The Divine Tragedy. The premise of Hell intrigued him, and the structure was poetic enough that it felt familiar. V headed back to the register with a smile, excited to speak with even briefly.

Over the next two months, this became his pattern. He spent most of his time reading, powering through several classics and anthologies you recommended. Every time he finished a book, he immediately returned to the shop to discuss it with you and ask for another. It was the highlight of his days, speaking to you. He learned that you were barely younger than him, that you had always loved book and stories and were writing an original of your very own when you had time.

He learned what made you laugh, what made you smile and what made you frown. He learned what music you liked and who you’d kill to see perform live. He learned everything he could about you, and with each new piece of information, you stole another piece of his heart.

His infatuation was so obvious even Vergil noticed, commenting that he smiled far too much and had a ridiculous look about him. V only laughed and went back to his book, lazily scratching Yamato’s chin. The dog grew on him; after all, if she hadn’t destroyed his book, he never would have met you. The partially restored volume now rested on a shelf near his bed, high enough so the dog couldn’t reach it and displayed proudly.

He turned the last page of Count Dracula and hummed contentedly, already reaching for his coat and keys when Vergil’s voice reached him.

“Mind if I join you?”

V froze. What if Vergil got in the way? He treasured his time with you, even though he knew you were simply doing your job and being nice to him out of professionalism. Vergil would shatter that illusion; he had no tolerance for willful ignorance. Yet to protest would only cause further issues, so he nodded.

Vergil smirked and donned his jacket, following V out the door. They reached the shop within minutes, and once inside V searched for you out of habit alone. There, you were helping a young woman find something. Vergil’s clever eyes tracked the same path, discerning V’s focus with ease.

“So that’s why you’ve been acting so absurd. Impressive,” the white-haired man said.

V blushed and looked at the floor, studying the geometric pattern of the thin carpeting as if it held the secrets of the universe. This was exactly what he feared would happen. He knew you weren’t interested; you’d not once asked for his phone number or shown any desire to see him outside your workplace. Prickles of guilt washed over him when he thought about it, about how he continued to intrude on your work where you could do nothing to impede him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied at last.

Vergil glanced at V and smirked knowingly. “Ah, forgive me. I must have been mistaken.”

V nodded and wandered away to browse, leaving Vergil to his own devices. The moment the poet was out of sight, Vergil strode over to talk to you with a charming smile.

“Hello, I was hoping you could be of assistance…”

 __________________

V did his best to avoid you, his guilt weighing heavily on his mind. Yet that day you sought him out, having seen him enter the shop and met his friend.

“V! Hi! What are you looking for today? Did you finish Dracula yet?” your cheerful voice called out to him as you approached.

“Oh! Yes, I just finished it this afternoon,” he said. V couldn’t deny the rush he got when you spoke to him, the familiar fluttering of his belly and the buzz in his mind.

“Great! Did you like it?”

He cleared his throat and nodded, making you beam with joy.

“I know just what you should read next, then! Are you familiar with the story of Frankenstein?”

V chatted with you for the next twenty minutes, though normally he spent over an hour in your company. He made his excuses and left to track down Vergil, finding him near the door with a smirk on his lips and a bag in his hand.

“This is a lovely store, especially the help,” he said when V reached his side.

“What?”

“That employee I thought you had a thing for? I’m going to see them tonight for a movie,” Vergil replied.

V felt his throat contract and swallowed against it. His stomach dropped to his knees and his hands trembled as he opened the door to their home, the urge to utterly destroy his roommate painfully strong. He ignored it, reminding himself that he had no claim to you.

“Ah. Have fun.”

He retreated to his bedroom and sighed. He couldn’t stop thinking about you, reliving every laugh and every smile as he undressed and got in bed. How he wished it was him taking you to a movie! V’s imagination ran wild, picturing everything he would do if he had the chance. He’d start with a hand on your knee, waiting until the film was at least twenty minutes in before dragging it higher to rest on your thigh.

A coil of heat settled in his belly at the thought, and one hand drifted to rest over his groin.

Next, he would lean over to whisper in your ear, something about how the darkness of theaters made excellent cover for explorations. His hand would move inward, dancing over your skin to rest on the tender flesh of your inner thigh. He imagined the way your breath would hitch and your hands would clench on the armrests, eyes glued to the screen as his fingers caressed their way higher.

V groaned and lifted his hips, rubbing his aching hardness into his palm.

You would spread your legs, granting him permission to continue. He wouldn’t even need to look, using skill alone to unbutton your shorts and graze his fingertips across your stomach. The sigh you’d make would be so exquisite, so lovely as he ventured under the fabric to touch your most intimate and sensitive skin.

He wrapped his fingers around his length, running his thumb over his tip and spreading the bead of fluid around as he pumped.

You would arch your back and bite your lip as he first felt your wetness; he’d need to time it well to disguise the moan slipping through your lips. He’d coat his fingers in your arousal, pulling them away to lick them and taste you. You’d taste so good, and he would lean over to whisper that, too. Gentleman that he was, he would share the morsel and allow you to lick his moistened fingers, let you wrap that sweet tongue around him and feel your lips engulf his flesh.

His breath hitched and he started lifting his hips to thrust in time with his pumping hand, heightening the pleasure.

He’d take his fingers away and resume his ministrations, finding all your most sensitive patches of nerves and stimulating them without mercy. Your eyes would roll back into your head as he stroked, his every move sending pulses of pleasure through you. He’d tease you, bring you right to the brink and hold you there. With another whisper, he’d instruct you to beg. And you would, keening his name softly and pleading for him to give you release. How could he possibly deny you anything when you asked so sweetly? His hand would be drenched in the proof of your fulfillment, and the two of you would lick it clean together in the dark theater. Perhaps he’d hold it in his cheek and make you use your tongue to retrieve it from his mouth?

“Fuck!” V growled, groaning as he reached his peak. Thick ropes of his cum shot out onto his thighs and stomach, but he didn’t care. He was too busy pumping through his intense orgasm. For a few moments, he lied there and waited for his panting to return to a normal breathing pattern. The guilt that had prickled at him before was joined by shame.

He rose to clean up the mess with a sigh, now fully awake again. It was difficult to keep himself from picturing Vergil living out his fantasies, and he tried to distract his mind by reading. The words on the page blurred, the story only reminding him of how you had looked so excited when you told him the premise. How wide your smile was as he expressed his interest.

I wonder how wide they’ll smile when Vergil makes his move.

With a growl of fury and frustration, V hurled the book at the wall with all the force he could muster. Images filled his mind of Vergil touching you, caressing your skin and knowing you more intimately than V ever would, and he ripped his bedroom door open.

He stalked to the kitchen and poured a glass of whiskey, downing it in a single gulp. He poured another and claimed a perch on the couch. Yamato joined him, her sympathetic eyes begging him to pet her. He smiled softly and did just that.

“At least there’s one female who welcomes my touch,” he murmured. Yamato whined as if to disagree. He took a sip of his drink and settled in to wait, knowing he would find no rest until Vergil returned.

 _______________

By the time his white-haired roommate opened the door, he’d finished his second drink and was just about to pour his third. The man had the nerve to hum as he took off his shoes, joining V in the kitchen with a smile as he opened the fridge to find a snack. Without prompting, he opened his mouth.

“What a lovely time we had. I’ll be seeing them again this weekend, I think I’ll go for a kiss then.”

V grunted and clenched his jaw as he returned to his bedroom to sulk. He couldn’t let this happen, refused to let Vergil do to you what he’d done to so many others. The poet finally found sleep as he resolved to do what he must tomorrow.

 ______________

He found you stocking the children’s section. You had a smile on your lips, a look of happiness in your eyes. V hoped you weren’t thinking about Vergil but couldn’t discount the possibility. He approached you and that same flutter ran rampant in his belly as you smiled at him.

“V! You didn’t finish Frankenstein already, did you?”

He sighed, searching for the right words to make you understand.

“No, I… I need to talk to you about something else. Do you have a moment?”

Your eyes narrowed in concern, but you nodded, following him to a secluded corner of the shop to talk in private. You waited for him to speak and he gazed into your eyes for courage.

“Vergil is not an easy man to be involved with. He will hurt you, if you let him. You should stay away from him,” he said. He tried to make his voice steady and earnest, but it came out less powerfully than he’d hoped. Your eyes narrowed even further as you listened, staring at him in confusion.

“Why are you telling me this? What does it matter to you?”

This is it.

V took a deep breath and opened his mouth as his hands trembled. His stomach was like a flock of birds, fluttering so much he feared he may lose his breakfast.

“It matters because I have feelings for you.”

Your eyes widened and your mouth popped open in surprise. You didn’t say a word, and as amusement filled your eyes V turned and ran, unable to face the rejection he knew was imminent. He fled outside, not planning on stopping until he got home, but a warm hand on his wrist stopped him in the parking lot. He turned to find you, bent over and panting as you held your other hand up in a gesture of needing to catch your breath.

They want to be clear. I cannot run away from this.

He waited in resigned misery as you finally regained the ability to speak, but no words came from your lips. Instead, you released his wrist and stepped forward, wrapping your arms around him to press your lips to his.

What…?

V’s heart flew into his mouth and he tugged you closer, cradling your precious form against his as he reveled in the softness of your mouth. He couldn’t believe this was happening, he’d been so sure you felt nothing for him. After a far too brief embrace, you pulled back with the most radiant smile he’d yet seen on your face.

“I’ve wanted to do that for weeks! I have feelings for you too, but I thought you weren’t interested!”

V smirked and rested his forehead against yours.

“So, Vergil…?”

“He offered to take me to see a movie nobody else wanted to see. I have no interest in him, at least not like I have in you,” you replied with a light blush.

He leaned in for another kiss, running the tip of his tongue over your lips until you opened to him, your tongues dancing as he moaned quietly. You tasted so much better than he could have imagined, and feeling your hands running up and down his back made him shiver in delight. He rested a palm on your hip and squeezed, his other hand occupied mapping your jaw. He had to pull away a beat later as blood rushed to his groin.

You grinned and took his hand, lacing your fingers through his as he caught his breathe.

“Why did you stop?” you asked.

V looked at the asphalt under his feet, his eyes passing over the bulge in his pants that was far too obvious for his liking.

“I liked that… perhaps too much.”

You laughed and reached out to feel his hardened length with a sly smirk, and he couldn’t restrain the whine at your touch.

“Trust me, you’re not the only one who enjoyed it.”

He raised an eyebrow and twisted his lips, eyes glittering in amusement. “Do tell,” he said.

“Let’s start with dinner. I’m off at five, sound good?”

He lifted your hand to his lips, planting a kiss on your knuckles. “Delightful.”

You turned to face the bookstore with a resigned sigh, and V escorted you back to the door. He didn’t want to let you go back to work, but knowing he’d see you in a few short hours helped. You gave him another kiss and released his hand.

“I’ll see you tonight,” you said, and stepped inside. He waved and started the walk home, and with every step he took the smile on his face grew wider.

[officialleehadan]

UnSpun

“Not this time.”

Raeca darted forward past Haroun and Brendis, magic already glowing around her hands as she called to the true nature that made her what she was.

In short, a healer. More importantly, a healer trained by the Dark Sword, who spent a frankly absurd amount of time healing the Hero from things that really ought to kill him.

“No!” Calliope shrieked when she realized what Raeca was doing, and tried to scramble away, determined to end her life and escape to the next before anyone could stop her.

“Brendis, hold her,” Raeca snapped without taking her eyes off the blade, where it sat buried in Calliope’s heart. “Haroun, I need power.”

By herself, she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t save someone who had a split-heart, and who was already bleeding out across the floor.

But she wasn’t alone.

“Of course,” Haroun said, although his voice was confused as well, as he tried to figure out what she was doing. “Raeca, what-“

“I can save her,” Raeca snapped, with little precious time to explain, and no focus to spare. “Throw me a line of power.”

“Right.”

Calliope tried to shove her away, but Brendis captured her hands, gentle, but much, much stronger than she was, and perfectly capable of holding her down. Blood stained the queen’s white gown crimson and spread to the white marble below her, and to Raeca’s hands.

“This is all your fault,” Claiiope hissed as Raeca linked with Haroun, practiced after nearly a year as his sometimes-student. “You just had to intervene in our destiny! I set it in motion! I knew Brendis would never turn on me- the simple fool- but it was so easy to convince you to kill him for me!”

“Love makes a man do crazy things,” Haroun said darkly, one hand on Raeca’s shoulder as she went to work. “Three thousand years and we never stood against you. No more.”

“This prophesy is more a curse than a promise,” Raeca told her sharply, although her hands didn’t shake as she drew the crystal-hilted blade from Calliope’s heart bit by bit, healing the terrible damage as she went. When she ran out of power, easy to do with such detailed, difficult work, she drew on Haroun, who stood by, a pillar of power, even after a major magical battle. “And it’s hurt you so much, my dear friend. And it is time for it to end.”

“You cannot end it!” Calliope went from fighting to sobbing as Raeca’s magic worked on her. A powerful healing, especially of a lethal wound, was a painful thing, and Raeca didn’t dare spend the power to make it painless. As it was, it would take every scrap of power she could muster just to save the queen. “It is Prophesy, written in the Book of Fate!”

The dagger clattered brightly against the marble when Raeca dropped it to the side, and finished her work, sweaty and shaking, but triumphant.

“Now,” she said, and turned her defiant gaze on Calliope, who was ghost-pale, covered in her own blood, and captured. “For your prophesy.”

It was a trick the common folk kept to themselves. Something that no one ever seemed to remember, and never used, even when they knew it existed. The true, full circle of magic.

The Highest magics were powerful. They were flashy, and brilliant. They could change the world on a whim and a handwave from a single mage.

The Middle magics, like Raeca’s healing, were more simple. To close a wound, or summon fire, they were the magics most often used by mages everywhere. Neither vulnerable, nor invulnerable, they stood without shame, but also without notoriety.

But it was the Low magics that everyone forgot. The spells and tricks so minor that anyone could learn them with a little patience. How to make a potion of healing, or of sleep. How to find water, or know the weather with nothing but the scent of the wind.

Low magic would never call fire. It would never change the weather, or save a life.

But the High Magics were vulnerable to it, and today, that would change everything.

No country girl was ever without a bit of wool and a tiny thread spindle. Raeca used hers to spin the fine thread she used to stich wounds, but most maidens had one, tucked in their pockets, if only for something to do with their hands.

Raeca’s was in her pocket, intact against all odds, and with a shred of undyed, half-spun wool already wound onto it.

With the blood of a queen on her hands, Raeca got her little spindle going, for once, in the wrong direction.

“The Three always stand as Three,” she spoke the words of their prophesy as the thread on her spindle began to come apart under the force of a bobbin-light spindle. “One shall turn, and Two will  Stand Together to face the One.”

They had done that, when Calliope turned on them back in the beginning. When she convinced Brendis to murder his closest friend to protect her from a betrayal that had not come. Now, so many years later, they finally stood together to face the queen who cost them so dearly.

“Darkness will break against  their Will,” she continued, practiced fingers on her little spindle as it whirled around, unwinding the threads of Fate as the thread began to fray apart. The snow-white wool glowed with golden threads as the prophesy, spoken by a long-dead prophet within the walls of the very hall they now stood in, gathered to the call of magic that was even older yet. “and the Circle will finally be Broken.”

It should have been loud, the breaking of a prophesy. It should have been thunder, and fire, and the scream of steel through the air.

Instead it was the clatter of a small wooden spindle clattering onto a polished stone floor.

+++

Never Free:

A warrior, a sorcerer, and a queen reincarnate each time  they die. Doomed to kill each other over and over until their prophesy  is fulfilled, each battles to keep their sanity as the centuries drag on  with no end in sight.

Their healer thinks all three of them are being just a little bit ridiculous.

Round and Round Again

Mistaken Step

Spinning Wheel

Stronger Together

Tea and History

Girl Talk

History Past

Dizzy Spell

Herbs and String

Burning Oil

Ancient Alliance

The Queen’s Hall

Circle Challenged (FREE ON PATREON)

UnSpun

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More stories!

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Support me on Patreon

[lumifuer]

The Whims Of Fate

Pairings: Poe Dameron x Reader Words: 1832 Warnings: Mention of violence but nothing too graphic  A/N: I finally decided to translate this piece into English. Truth be told, I was and still am hesitant to post it. I feel like my knowledge about Star Wars is tiny compared to other fanfic writers out there even tho I know the movies by heart. So I would be really grateful for feedback, now even more than ever!   

Summary: Poe was captured by the First Order and you decided to rescue him despite the council’s orders. Thinking you are entirely on your own, you are met with the unexpected ally. 

Going down the corridor you were wondering which sound echoed with greater intensity; your steps, heavier because of the unfamiliar kind of footwear or your heart trying to break out of your chest. You tried to not pay attention to the increasing amount of patrols consisting of two or three soldiers in white armours and helmets but fear and the feeling of being on your own stripped you of the logical thinking ability and turned ordinary life functions into a fight for every breath.

You were cursing the Resistance, furious that they'd refused to send a special rescue group to liberate their best pilot from the enemy's hands. Moreover, they categorically banned you from interfering and working on your own although everyone in the council was expecting you to show insubordinate in this matter. General Organa unofficially shared some information about the base structure with you, hoping it would help you get to the torture chamber where Dameron was most likely being held, though she had repeatedly reminded him that Resistance soldiers shouldn't hope for aid during their missions and were supposed to handle it themselves.

Just like you.

When you were almost entirely sure that your mind would crumble under the stress within the next few seconds, two people emerged from the turn at the end of the hallway. The stormtrooper was leading the prisoner and his blaster was aimed at the unfortunate man's side. Despite the countless wounds, bruises and general swelling as well as the blood sticking his dark curly hair you immediately recognized your Poe. You noticed that he had some balance issues but he was still walking upright with his head slightly raised.

Only when they were so close that you could have sworn that there was a dark shadow of resignation in pilot's eyes, it came to you that you had stopped in the middle of the corridor for no apparent reason. You forced your mind to cooperate, using the adrenaline rushing through your veins, you raised your hand, prompting the trooper to stop. You hadn't anticipated such developments but perhaps it might have been of a benefit for you. After all, retrieving Poe from a single soldier should have been a little easier than breaking into a torture chamber, which was undoubtedly under constant surveillance. You tried to avoid looking at Dameron afraid that you would have lost your composure, although every cell in your body was pushing you towards him. You concentrated on the recruit who was nervously checking his grip on the blaster and shifting his weight from one onto the other leg. You got the impression that he was even more upset than you and decided to hold onto that perception.

"I've got the order to escort the prisoner to the command room," you bluffed, hoping that the mention of the peremptory leader of the First Order that you had heard so much about would be enough to ensure your immunity and save you from uncomfortable questions.  

As soon as the first word had come out of your mouth, you felt Dameron's eyes focusing on you, analyzing your whole attitude while his mind was simultaneously trying to undermine this new information to spare him unnecessary disappointments. He had to be aware that Resistance wouldn't have risked sending a rescue mission. Even in his case. But he wouldn't even dare to think that you'd decide to make such a bold move.

"I was just escorting him there," the trooper replied. In his voice, you sensed a hint of a slight panic and under any other circumstances you would've paid more attention to it but in that moment you could feel your heart in your throat, for there was your great plan, created within few seconds and turned to ruins even quicker.  

"In that case, I'll provide you with extra protection," you said, trying to rid your voice of any signs of despair and motioned for him to go ahead.

You were covering the distance separating you from freedom at an even pace but with every step, you were becoming more and more aware that the time was running out. The dim light barely able to disperse the darkness that enveloped the corridors which intensified the feeling of danger and imprisonment was also not on your side. Walking down the hallway, you were looking at the sharp angles, curves and collapses in the ship's architecture. You remembered to use them if the need arose.

You looked straight ahead, carefully scrutinizing the behaviour of the recruit. He seemed to be tense, his movements were mechanical, but something in the way he looked around, almost without paying attention to Dameron, created a few questions in your mind. Did he also wonder what he was doing in this place? Could he question his supervisor's orders or have doubts about the way they acted? What could be the reason behind his uneasiness? Unfortunately, you didn't have enough time to ask the right questions, which could at least briefly pull him away from the role he'd been assigned.

Your eyelids and head became heavier and you let your eyes rest on the high-gloss polished floor. You could see your own reflection or rather the reflection of someone entirely different who was standing on the opposite side of the barricade. The floor surface could've served as a line between two parallel universes; the one in which you were at the moment and the reverse one in which you stood with the enemy. The sense of close proximity to such an alternative made you nauseous.

You shook your head, trying to get those insidious thoughts as far away from the conscious part of your mind as possible. But reality did not bring you any real relief, you collided with the image born of your nightmares. Poe walked a few steps ahead of you and the blaster was still touching his side, ready to fire and end his and your life at any moment. You seemed to be drowning in an overwhelming sense of helplessness, but impulsive attempts at action wouldn't bring positive effects. Patience and logical calculation counted the most.

You started to wonder why hadn't the recruit taken any of the turns crossing the corridor, he seemed to be heading towards the airfield but it would have been absurd. You didn't know the plans of the entire base but locating the command rooms so close to the hangar was either stupidity or too much self-confidence. However, if it turned out to be true, then you hoped that one of these things would put an end to the regime in the future.

Another patrol walked past you, and you turned your head to give them a sign that everything was in order. As soon as the sound of their footsteps ceased, you decided to act, but it was already too late. The stormtrooper pushed you into a crack in the corridor, pinning you to the wall. A sudden collision with a hard surface deprived you of air and clearness of mind. When had he realised? You were sure that the whole trip to the airport was just a cat and mouse game, in which the cat turns out to be a fan of igniting the false hope.

Poe desperately tried to push the recruit aside and release you from his grasp, but he was too weak and in addition, his balance problems and tied hands were making everything even more difficult.

"Stop it!" shouted the recruit when the pilot hit him with his whole body. "I'm helping you!"

"She's the one helping me!" Poe said.

Taking advantage of the momentary lack of attention on the recruit's side, you managed to slip away and quickly stand between him and the heavily breathing Dameron.

You were staring each other down, but neither of you drew a gun. At last the stormtrooper took off his helmet and took a breath, clearly trying to calm down.

"I'll take you to TIE Fighter," he whispered, wiping the sweat away from his forehead, "I thought she was with them."

You took a step back, standing next to Poe, who immediately looked at you. You took the helmet off and for a moment you allowed yourself to enjoy the feeling of freedom and the larger field of view. Then you freed Dameron's hands, careful not to touch the wounds caused by rubbing the rope against the skin.

He did not seem to pay much attention to them as soon as the line fell to the floor, his arms pulled you to him and locked in a tight embrace. You hugged him back, digging your fingernails into the material of his leather jacket and inhaling the familiar smell. If it wasn't for the presence of the unexpected ally you could stand there for hours.

"Why are you helping me?" Poe asked. You didn't find suspicion in his voice, he was simply curious.

The soldier looked down at the helmet in his hand. A whole palette of emotions ran through his face, and although you were not able to catch each of them, you knew they were not the welcome ones. For the majority of your life, you have been fighting with the stormtroopers, but you had never stopped to think that they were forced to fight for survival, shoved into someone else's war like pawns, destined for the loss. The expression of repulsion on the face of the man in front of you made you realize that there was yet another dirty aspect of the conflict that you had not known until then. Or you simply didn't want to think about.

"Because it's the right thing to do," he replied and you immediately believed him.

"You need a pilot," the confident smile formed on Poe's lips.

The recruit looked up, his lips twitching slightly, but then he simply smiled.

"I need a pilot," he said. "Can you fly a TIE Fighter?"

You rolled your eyes, knowing what was coming.

"I can--"

"--fly anything," you finished his sentence and Poe looked at you with a slight amusement, but also unwavering adoration.

The recruit didn't even try to hide his excitement.

"Let's go, then," he said putting his helmet back on.

Poe sighed and held his hands on his stomach, turning into the war prisoner and the soldier pressed his blaster to his side.

"Since we are about to put our life into your hands, I am Poe. Poe Dameron," whispered the pilot as you carefully come from behind the walls.

"Y/N," you bowed your head.

The recruit opened his mouth a few times, but it was only after a moment that he managed to make a sound.

"Finn. My name is Finn. Let's go."

In the new squad, you headed for freedom.

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs are always greatly appreciated! 

[yuki-d-raizel-blog]

Number 1333

Chapter 8/??

Summit: What happens if a mysterious prisoner joins the chaotic Cell 13? He is perfect for the Nanba Prison, his name is synonym of terror and cruelty; each time he was sent to a new prison, he broke out in less than an hour. Will the Nanba Prison succeed to keep him jailed or not…?

---

A deep breath was the last thing that Kenshiro saw the prisoner do, now his sight only catches the reddish cracked walls, his back, neck and shoulders hurt a lot, he can't move anymore... What the hell is happening?

<<Let me go already or I'll break his back.>> Ayu's words are for the warden and since the woman is taking too much time, he pushes his leg laid on Yozakura's neck down, making the man growl in pain, the other leg is holding strongly the man's body in place, <<Very well->>

<<Kenshiro, let him go!>>

<<.....Yes ma'am....>> the man lets the whip and Ayu frees him from his powerful grip, "How strong he is?! He seems another person..." <<The needle must->>

<<My body is immune to drugs.>> all his bones crack as he prepares himself to do something, "Now..." with just a glare, Jyugo stops his blade and stares back at him, "Try to keep your eyes on me." Ayu takes off his cloak and throws it.

<<!!!>> not even Uno saw how he got there, but in a blink of an eye, Ayu is crouched on Number 15's blade with a terrifying look. Before Jyugo could do something, he finds himself kneeled with his arms fully blocked by his cellmate, <<Where is he...?>>

<<Cool your fucking head.>> with a powerful kick in the back, Number 33 throws his friend against the wall, burring him under it, after that, he grabs two iron sticks and walks towards the guards, <<Stay back Uno.>> only that phrase was said with care and a calm voice, and the terrifying assassin is awake.

<<Stop, Number 33!>> Hajime shoots at him aiming for his head or chest, but the killer misdirects each bullet with the sticks he just grabbed, <<You threatened even the warden, you'll get a->>

<<Stop fucking shoot at me.>> as before, in a blink of an eye the supervisor finds his prisoner right in front of his face, and one of the stick pointed at his throat, <<Shoot me again and I'll kill you.>>

<<Mph, I dare you->> "Where the fuck did he go?!"

<<What about feeling guilty for your friends' death?>> Ayu smiles scarily upon Gokuu, his powerful legs block his shoulders and the hands hold the supervisor's head moving it like a doll, <<I can break his neck in a second, what about now? My life was a nightmare until now, nothing scares me, not even death->>

[Bang!]

<<Hajime, what the fuck are doing?!>> screams Samon seeing Ayu's leg bleeding on his uniform, <<Do you want me to die?!>>

<<I strongly suggest you to not upset me more, I'm here to help you to calm Number 15 down, and you...>> Gokuu's neck starts to be pushed over its limit, <<Oh, I already feel some cracks, should I keep going?>>

<<Number 1333!!>> Momoko's scream attires his attention, and the woman feels a thrill of terror when those lifeless and crazy eyes meet hers, <<We will kill you if you don't stop now!>>

<<Oh, so you don't want data about the person who did that to Number 634 and Number 15?>> he smiles amused and gets off from Gokuu's shoulders while the guard falls on the ground and tries to catch his breath, <<Go ahead then.>>

<<Wait!>> that order saved Ayu, Hajime lowed immediately his aim and shot at his side instead of his head, <<.....Cooperate with Number 33 and capture Number 15!>>

<<What?!>> the guards exclaim when the assassin is already working, he's defending Uno from Jyugo once again, now someone would explain how that prisoner can move so fast and so soundless?! <<Fine!!>>

<<Ayu, you ok?>> asks Number 11 standing behind his friend, <<I'm sorry...>>

<<Keep talking to him, maybe your voice can reach him.>> Ayu blocks the blades with his hands and spreads the impact on the ground to avoid more damages, <<Don't worry about me, I have a high pain tolerance.>>>

<<Stop it Jyugo!!>> Uno tries again, he needs to wake his friend up, Ayu is not gonna last longer, <<Remember your true self!!>> nothing works.... Now, Number 33's body is pushing him backwards, his hands are bleeding, his arm, side and leg as well, "He's losing too much blood... At this rate-" Number 15 raises his blade again, and the assassin is ready to catch them, <<We're... buddies, aren't we?!>>

The blade goes down quickly.....

......

Nothing hits him, if not for a light weight on his chest. Trembling in fear, Number 11 opens his eyes to check what's going on. Hajime stopped the blade this time, while the other officers surrounded him ready to give a backup at any moment. Ayu holds his unharmed arm to protect Uno and walks away slowly.

<<You're inmates.>> roars Hajime pissed off, <<You're both way out of line! Stay out of this, you're getting in my way.>> he moves fast and punches strongly Jyugo's abdomen, making the sound of his cracking bones audible. The prisoner vomits blood on him and falls on the ground.

<<Hajime, you're taking this too far!>> the officers now surround the duo hushing the prisoner.

<<If you swear to not hurt him, I'll surrender immediately.>> Ayu speaks fearless as always, and when all the supervisors promise, he puts his hands up and the guards immobilize him on the ground using even their weight on him.

<<Where... is he...?>> Number 15 can't stand up that Sugoroku assaults him with hits with his knee, punches and he doesn't let the prisoner even breathe.

<<Hey stop...>> whispers Uno cannot standing that anymore, Jyugo already passed out, what's the point on keep hitting him so mercilessly? <<Stop it already!!>>

<<Halt!!!>> only the warden's order could stop Hajime, <<Hitokoe, call the medics.>>

<<On it!>>

The other supervisors chain Ayu on his neck, feet, hands and escort him out of the arena, Hajime will watch over the other prisoners that remain there. And the absurd silence, announces the end of the tournament.

---

After days, finally, Ayu is allowed to go back, always escorted and chained, but this time, more than when he arrived at the Nanba Prison. Yamato opens the door of the Cell 13, lets the inmate walks in, then he unlocks every chain the man has and leaves with a few pats on his shoulder and a little smile.

<<Ayu-chan!>> , <<Ayu!>> Rock, Nico and Uno call his name with a mix of relief, sadness and worry.

<<Sorry...>> that's the first thing that he could say seeing those faces.

<<Are you ok? How's your wounds?>> asks Number 69, <<Here, sit for while so you can rest.>>

<<Do you want some water? Or maybe tea->> Nico bends down and asks worried as well.

<<Guys, listen to me first.>> they sit in front of him and stay quiet because their friend looks like he's dying to tell them something, <<Maybe my voice and my face doesn't show it, but I'm relieved, because you aren't scared of me after what I did. You're the first ones who knows my name, and since I really trust you all, I want you to know my story as well.>>

<<About the man that Jyugo was talking too?>> says Uno concerned.

<<You remember that I said I'm here for my last mission?>> Number 11 nods, <<That man is my last target. He did a lot of things to me, but let's begin from the start.>>

<<Got it.>>

<<Since I have memory, I've been caged, chained and kept in the darkness for my voice. I have a few memories of it, but I remember that my mom was there too, but I've never saw her again when a man took her. Where I was, I barely ate, people punished me because I refused to talk or use my voice; but one day, a black dressed man freed me.>> tells Ayu touching his hands, <<I was little and my mind was fragile, I put my trust in that man, who marked me and trained me to become his strongest subject. He said that if I become the number one, he would find my mother, so I did whatever he said to grant my wish. Due to the trainings he made me do, I barely can feel the pain, I can break my arm and fix it back without blinking, my body became immune to drugs, my emotions were forgotten, I became a killing machine that did whatever he ordered.>>

<<..........>> the others stay silent, but they want to hug Ayu right now, he needs a hug, at least.

<<I never saw properly the world, I was focused to kill my targets that I couldn't enjoy the food in restaurants, see how beautiful the nature is, or see what shade of blue is the sea... My world was black and the only color that I could see was the red of the blood of the people I killed. I've been with him for many, many years, he never let me go if not for missions, always stand by his side, until one day I asked if he started to look for my mother.>>

"So the tattoo he has behind his neck is from this bastard, eh?" thinks Uno, he saw that mark when Ayu was taking a shower, it was an instant, but Uno's eyes caught it in time before the inmate could disappear again.

<<Nobody never knew who killed all those people, but one day I decided to let everyone know my name.>> Number 33 continues after a deep breath, <<He said he found my mother, but when I went to the address he sent me, I found her corpse... Even for someone as expert as me was impossible to recognize her, someone destroyed her face, shoot her, hit her broking all her bones... From that day, I started to rise. His subordinate, Elf, called the police and said that I killed her, so when I was arrested, I began to kill every person was linked to that man; no matter how far they were, I found them and killed them making my name known all around the world. The only ones that I couldn't find anywhere, were Elf and that bastard.>>

---Continue...

Chapter 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12

[massive-mythopoetic-mashup]

I hope you don't consider this too prying, but are you strain_of_thought? If so, I love what your doing with RWBY. I've always thought the strongest thing about RWBY were how the allusions played into the characters and story, but I always thought it didn't really use them as much as it should. All of your ideas paint the idea RWBY is using them far more effectively than I thought you could! One question, where do you look for allusions? You make some connections I would never think of.

I _am_ Strain of Thought! I also go by Karma Chimera in some places. This blog was supposed to be for posting concise, thorough, and well-formatted explanations of allusions I’ve found in RWBY, but unfortunately I’ve really had very little time to devote to it over the past two months due to crazy life events. Also, my thoughts on how the big theory should be organized and presented have been constantly evolving, largely as a result of having nice people who humor my attempts to explain it to them, and that’s somewhat held up producing finalized presentations. Most of the G.U.N. theory has been informally described in back-and-forth conversation over on my Discord server, but it’s very, very long and a mess to slog through.I want to be clear, before I get into this: the stuff I talk about on reddit and here and on the wiki and the RT forums and on Discord is not stuff I figured out overnight. I was a passionate but casual fan of RWBY who wasn’t into RT at all and didn’t even start watching the series until late summer of 2016. I was deeply haunted by Pyrrha’s death after finishing Volume 3 and dwelled on it for several months without finding any understanding of it; I wasn't even able to bring myself to watch Volume 4 until the last episode had been posted. Then, about five months ago, I had a sudden epiphany about one character- which in short order lead to another, much much _much_ bigger epiphany about another character that completely changed my perception of the show; since then I’ve been tearing the show apart piece by piece with an obsessiveness that still hasn’t really abated at all. At this point, I have spent many hundreds of hours researching the allusions in RWBY. So please don’t feel bad for not having immediately caught all of the things I point out. I had to _work_ to find them, and I didn’t begin to see them for a long time.That said, let’s talk about that first epiphany.The basic method I use for looking for allusions in RWBY is something you might call the “Cast of Characters” method. First, take a RWBY character who has an overt literary allusion that you're certain of- let's say Penny. Then list all the important supporting characters in the story of the inspirational character who the RWBY character alludes to. For Pinocchio that would be Geppetto, The Blue Fairy, Jiminy Cricket, The Puppet Show Master, The Fox and The Cat, The Coachman, Lampwick, and The Terrible Dogfish. Now, you can’t really tell the story of Pinocchio without having all of these characters also represented in some capacity. RWBY does have some characters who appear to overtly play some of these roles: Penny’s ‘Father’ is Geppetto, Ciel Soleil is The Blue Fairy, and Ironwood is the Puppet Show Master. But other important characters are conspicuously missing- Jiminy Cricket, for example. So go down the list and ask: “Who is playing this necessary role in order for this story to be told?”Doing this successfully often requires a lot of familiarity with the work in question, which means you often have to go back and actually _read_ something you’ve only picked up on through osmosis or adaptations. Sometimes you’re going to need to sit down with some 19th century children’s literature for a few hours before you’ll be able to pick up on the subtle cues that are hidden in RWBY. Reading material _about_ the work, such as Wikipedia articles on the individual characters, can also be hugely instructive.Getting back to Penny Polendina and the search for Jiminy Cricket- who is Penny's conscience? Who tries to answer her difficult questions and guide her morally and keep her out of trouble? Who is a Christ-like figure, especially in their purity of heart? (No, seriously. ‘Jiminy Cricket’ is literally a bowdlerization of ‘Jesus Christ’. Carlo Collodi never named him, simply calling him ‘The Talking Cricket’, so Disney named him after a clean expletive.) Who is repeatedly separated from Penny and ultimately fails to keep her out of trouble but nevertheless provides an example that inspires her and helps her become a much better person in the long run? _Who can jump really high?_Realizing that Ruby Rose is Jiminy Cricket, and that the writers had snuck that right past me in plain sight, was the first forehead slap that made me suspect there was much more to RWBY than what meets the eye. You can take the “Cast of Characters” method and systematically run every character in the show through it; if you do, some startling connections can jump out at you fairly quickly. Also, for RWBY characters with mythological, legendary, or historical origins, there’s often a wealth of supplemental information to be found about their supporting characters outside of their source stories themselves.For another example: Has it occurred to you that there might be important supporting characters in _Joan of Arc_’s story? Reading up on Joan of Arc, you’ll find that she consistently described her visions as always containing the same three saints: Saint Michael, Saint Margaret of Antioch, and Saint Catherine of Alexandria. We can read up on these three saints in turn, and in doing so we learn some interesting facts:Saint Michael is actually the Archangel Michael, revered by military orders as a soldier who is the leader of God’s armies and battles demons, but also paradoxically strongly associated with medicine and tranquil, healing waters. He’s an angel of mercy: he repeatedly prevents deaths, and is specifically named as the angel who provided the ram to prevent Abraham from killing his own son Isaac. Most remarkably, Michael is strongly associated with Christ, and many protestant traditions have held that Michael actually _is_ Christ in his heavenly, pre-incarnation form.Saint Margaret of Antioch was the daughter of a demon-worshipping pagan priest, who abandoned her as an infant when he had a vision that she would become a Christian. She was raised by a Christian nurse who took her in, and became a shepherdess as a teenager. As she grew up she developed a fanatical, virginal devotion to Christ that bordered on romantic fixation. She resisted worldly temptations by a pagan lord who saw her herding and was captivated by her beauty, and she kept her faith through being tortured by him after her rejection. Eventually, she faced and was swallowed by a demonic dragon, but was able to escape from its belly because the cross she wore irritated the dragon’s stomach so much that it vomited her up.Saint Catherine of Alexandria, lastly, is an absurd Mary-Sue even by biblical standards: she is not just a saint but also a martyr, a brilliant scholar, and a _princess_. She brought _herself_ to Christ through study and boldly appeared before the emperor of Rome to rebuke him for his cruelty. The emperor summoned _fifty_ pagan philosophers to argue against her, and she defeated them in debate one after another _and converted them to christianity_, prompting their immediate executions. She was whipped and imprisoned, but hundreds of people came to visit her in the dungeon and she converted all of _them_ as well, including the emperor’s _own wife_. The emperor attempted to use torture upon her, but every torture device used upon her magically broke, including a massive breaking wheel she was strapped to that was specially built to kill her. Even when she was finally beheaded, her body was carried away by angels and placed upon Mount Sinai where God spoke to Moses; there her body remained fresh without rotting, her beautiful hair never stopped growing, and she continuously issued a ‘stream of healing oils’.Are you seeing any patterns here? Can you think of three people in Jaune’s life who exhibit some of these traits? I hope you can! Now understand: I knew basically _nothing_ about Joan of Arc when I started this other than the basic “Hears voices, drives the English out of France, gets captured and burned at the stake.” bits that you can pick up through cultural osmosis as an American. I vaguely remembered her liberating Orleans entirely because of a campaign mission in Age of Empires 2. You ask where I look for allusions- my answer is, I pick a character and just start reading things about them until I feel like I’ve exhausted the resources I know to look at, and then I move on to the next one. Then later I end up coming back for additional passes with a fresh sense of what I’m looking for and what to read, and a better sense of how the show is written, and find even more connections. RWBY has given me ten times the education in western literature that college did, and even if I’m wrong about everything, I still want to thank the creators of the show for that. They couldn’t get me to read the _Iliad_ in school, but I cracked it open and tried my level best for Pyrrha.Not only does taking the thorough approach and investigating seemingly less promising character allusions like Joan of Arc allow you to find layers to the show you’d likely never pick up on otherwise, but finding who _else_ a RWBY character is drawn from besides their overt, top-level allusion often becomes very instructive in understanding them and the ways that they differ from that top-level character. I’ve repeatedly had my perception of a RWBY character completely changed by discovering some lower level allusion that recontextualizes them, and I’ve found paradigm-shifting revelations in sources as diverse as black-and-white 1950s American western films, the works of Dr. Seuss, and episodes of _Sesame Street_. I’ve generally found that the top level character allusion informs a RWBY character’s personality more (and obviously their appearance) but the immediately underlying character allusion has a much bigger impact on their story and character arc- and sometimes there are third and fourth and even _fifth_ level allusions with major impacts on a character. In one case, the layers of significant allusions go down to a _dozen_. What took me almost all of the past five months to realize is that RWBY characters are designed exactly like RWBY weapons: they’re crazy awesome mashup combinations of multiple completely different things that externally _appear_ to just be extra cool versions of one thing, but then at critical moments they perform dramatic, spectacular transformations to reveal other essential aspects of themselves that have existed within them all along.For all the reasons I’ve mentioned already, if you want to be able to perceive the allusions within RWBY, the most important thing is to just experience the world of literature it’s drawn from. In the interest of helping fans do that, I’ve started a regular weekly online film viewing group where RWBY fans can watch and discuss films together whose stories RWBY alludes to. The group is open to everyone and based from my Discord server. If you want to learn more, or maybe just watch some good films, come check it out:https://discord.gg/PMNSfhK