#if it was just that once i would have been more suspicious
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no-144444 · 2 days ago
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guilt tripping- o.piastri
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summary: oscar asks something of you that you know you can't do. you do it anyway and it ends in you two almost breaking up. almost.
pairing: oscar piastri x fem! chronic illness! reader
a/n: hey yall, I just broke two ribs (lol) and got diagnosed with a chronic illness (lmao) so I might not be posting as frequently- just dealing with it physically and mentally so yah 😹
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“I don’t know if I can go,” you sighed, feeling even worse. 
“That’s alright,” he assured you, but you could hear the way his excitement depleted and his mood lowered. 
“M-maybe I can work something out, I don’t want to leave you alone,” your guilt grew everyday, this wasn’t healthy for either of you. 
“I don’t want you over-exerting yourself,” he spoke softly into the phone. “I’ll just ask mum if she has any friends that want to go or something. She always brings a million people with her.”
“I don’t want to leave you hanging Oscar. Melbourne is a big race. I’d be happy to come over like a week before, and then come to the race once I’ve had a few days to heal,” you bargained. A 22 hour connecting flight was not something you’d ever wanted to do. You couldn’t do it. You knew the pain would be too bad, yet you still stood there, offering it anyway. “And then I’d come for the race on Sunday, or just small bits on all the days.”
“Really?” his voice picked up, excited now. “You’re sure?”
“I’m sure Osc, I love seeing you race,” your smile was more of a grimace than anything, but still, the guilt in your chest lessened as you listened to Oscar speak animatedly about the race weekend, while your anxiety ran through the roof. You couldn’t do all the things he wanted you to do, you never could. This had been a problem at the beginning of your relationship, every time he’d plan a date that wasn’t dinner or a movie, you’d have to break the news that a 15 kilometre hike wasn’t something you’d be able to do on a whim. Things like that took planning, physio, and preparation. Your chronic illness was no joke, and had limited you since you were a teenager. In the past few years he’d gotten much better at everything, from helping you with your physio exercises, attending pilates classes with you, knowing what to do on bad pain days, and always looking out for you in public. You knew he was just getting away with himself, and you didn't want to disappoint, so you agreed to it all, hoping against hope that it wouldn’t be a bad week of pain or flare-ups wise. 
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You got into Melbourne and sobbed when you got in the car. Thankfully, it was Hattie picking you up, so she just held your hand as you silently cried, the joint and too much to bear. You went straight to bed as Hattie explained to the rest of the house that you were exhausted, and Oscar took it at face value. You usually get extremely tired after long days, and you’d just had a 22-hour day of travel. 
“I’ll go check on her-” he started, desperate to see you but Hattie cut him off. 
“NO!” she squeaked, trying to not sound suspicious. Oscar raised an eyebrow. “She’s really tired and she’s already gone to sleep.”
“Yeah, well I’m tired so I’m going to bed,” he explained, stretching then yawning. 
“Osc,” Hattie sighed, knowing she had to tell him. “She’s not… alright. She can’t do 22 hour travel days like you or I can. She has Lupus and she’s still trying to figure out her medication, so it hurts all the time. She cried from the airport to here, all to support you because you asked her to, and she feels guilty every single time she can’t say yes. She’s done real damage to herself by coming here. I want you to understand that, do you understand that?” 
Oscar nodded, because the other option was breaking down into tears. Yes, he’d felt guilty that he couldn’t be there to take care of you while travelling, and he knew he was asking a lot of you when he asked. The guilt settled deep in his stomach and made him nauseous, but still he continued on to his bedroom where you were sleeping peacefully. He could see the puffy eyes, the red nose, the open bottles of medication on the nightstand. He wrapped an arm around your waist, another in your hair and pulled you as close as possible, whispering teary sorrys into your ear. 
When you woke up the next morning, you knew what you had to do. This wasn’t fair on either of you, and you needed to make a change. You quickly (but silently) got up, and started to leave the room, but Oscar grabbed ahold of your hand before you could leave. 
“Please don’t sneak out on me,” he begged, sitting up. He looked wrecked, puffy eyes, red rose- had he been crying? God, had you made him cry? 
“Osc, what’s wrong?” you asked, concern clear as day on your face as you cupped his face with your hands.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I knew I was asking too much when I asked you to come here, I’m so sorry.”
Your heart tightened in your chest. “Osc, I’m alright, I was just tired last night and-”
“Hattie told me,” his voice was deep, deeper than usual, and he pressed a gentle kiss to your hand. “And I’m so sorry.”
“Osc, I could’ve said no if I didn’t think I was able for it,” you tried to reassure him but he shook his head. 
“Y/n, you did say no and I didn’t take it as an answer,” he scoffed. 
You were stunned into silence. “I think we need to have a talk about us, Osc.”
He nodded, taking your hands in his. 
“This isn’t fair on you. I know I can't control my illness, and neither can you. It sucks, but it’s a fact. I wish I could be there for every single race and cheer you on with the other girls, but I can’t. It’s not in the cards for me right now, and I don’t know when it will be. Oscar, I love you so much, and you’ve been with me through everything and I know you deserve someone who can always be there for you, and I’m not that person right now. I love you but I know it’s not enough,” You finally looked at him and he was biting his lip as tears streamed down his cheeks. “I’m sorry.”
He shook his head and stood up, dropping your hands as he paced his bedroom. “You know how much I love you, don’t you?” he asked and you nodded as you held back more tears. “So you know that I still feel your support even when we’re in different time zones or on different continents, right? You know that I value you being in as little pain as possible more than being at the barricade after a race, right? You know that I fucking love you more than I love racing, right? Y/n, I’ve been here the entire time, since we were 14 years old. You’re the reason I get in the car, you make me better, all the time it’s just you. I plan on being with you for my whole life, Y/n. I want to be there for everything. I plan to sit there through every appointment about medication until you find the one that actually helps you, I plan on being there for every day where you don’t feel up to it, I plan on being there for you, always. I never want to let go of you, and yeah, it is nice to be able to see you after a race, and I know that because fucking facetime exists. If you still want to break up because I fucked up by asking you to come here, go ahead, but don’t ever think that I’m without because I’m with you. I am so in love with you, Y/n. I mean it. I want to marry you one day, I want a family with you, I want to be old with you so we get to reminisce on the good ol’ days and make some more while we have time. ‘The good ol’ days’ will be the days I spend with you. More than any race win, more than any trophy, or than anything. My favourite part about a race weekend is coming home because I know no matter what my result was, you’ll be there with open arms, loving me anyways. You’re more than enough for me.”
You crossed the room and wrapped your arms around him, crying into his hoodie as he held you. “I love you too.”
After a few moments of both of you calming down, he finally spoke. “Can you forgive me for being such an asshole?” he asked, wiping his eyes. 
You nodded, a small smile on your face. “I can, can you forgive me for being such an idiot?”
He chuckled. “You’re no idiot,” he picked you up and gently placed you back on the bed lying beside you. “I love you.” 
“I love you too.”
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just-j-really · 2 days ago
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Additional Dreamling hanahaki AU idea, which I am fond of enough to make its own post:
Hob fell hard for Dream in 1489, and unfortunately immediately got hanahaki about it. Fortunately, it's a weirdly manageable level of hanahaki. Like, the immortality bit definitely helps, but it progresses much slower than your average case of hanahaki, and it seems to reset, or at least get markedly better, every time he sees Dream.
He still never gets a chance to tell Dream about it. In 1589 he's got a five-step 'Impress him. Have a conversation with him that isn't about immortality. Flirt a little. Use whatever information I get to figure out if I can seduce him. Go from there.' plan that just immediately goes to shit. It's the least of his worries in 1689, in 1789 he doesn't have the chance, and in 1889 he attempts to reach out again (less a calculated 'sweep him off his feet' this time and more a 'hey, we're friends, do you ever see the possibility of us being something more?') and of course Dream balks at the friends part and that goes to hell.
An then 1989 rolls around, Dream doesn't show up, and the once-a-century reset button Hob had been depending on just. Doesn't happen.
He's in bad shape when Dream finally shows up thirty-odd years later.
Eventually Dream gets the whole story out of him (it takes a bit- Hob is afraid of scaring him off again, and once Dream tells Hob why he missed their meeting, Hob's got the additional worry of 'how to explain without making him feel even worse about being imprisoned for over a century').
And once Dream does get the explanation, he immediately connects the dots incorrectly: hanahaki is born of unrequited love, and Hob always seems to recover from his case whenever he sees Dream. This of course means that being subjected to the full force of Dream's unloveable terrible self is causing Hob's feelings for Dream to wane. So he decides to meet up with Hob more often (but not too often, he wants Hob to still want to be his friend, even if those romantic feelings fade).
Cue a horrific misunderstanding. The facts of the situation are that A: Dream is slowly falling in love with Hob. He'd been nursing a tiny little potential crush for centuries, hence their meetings giving Hob that little reprieve, but he only starts actually falling for him when they start spending time together. This means that B: Hob is recovering. It also means that C: Hob's feelings are getting exponentially, monumentally worse by virtue of having his crush nearby so often, and occasionally looking at Hob as though he could possibly feel the same way.
Dream, only aware of points A and B, has confirmed his suspicion that he's horrible and unlovable and his presence has caused Hob to stop loving him. (And like. Yes. The other conclusion, that Hob's recovering because his feelings are requited, is, in fact, right there. Dream is far too primed to believe himself unlovable to make that leap.) He's also having a Real Bad Time emotionally because he's DEVASTATED that Hob doesn't love him anymore and also just. So, so glad to see Hob healthy. The Dreaming is experiencing freak thunderstorms midway through, and occasionally at the same time as, perfect sunny days.
Hob, only aware of points B and C, is confused. He's still in love, so that can't be what's caused his recovery, and Dream hasn't mentioned returning Hob's feelings, so clearly that can't be it either. Dream's some sort of eldritch god-being, it makes as much sense as anything that he can somehow suppress hanahaki. And Hob can live with that, he's perfectly happy with Dream as his friend. (Honestly he's probably three quarters of the way to figuring it out, if nothing else Dream keeps bringing him gifts and it's beginning to make him suspicious, but he just... doesn't think Dream would withhold that information when he knows Hob's unrequited love was factually killing him.)
Thus follows months of mutual pining. They're essentially living together, at least from Hob's perspective- Dream meets him after work, unless he has some other plans, and sticks around until he falls asleep. He's not there when Hob wakes up, but it's overall absurdly similar to living with a partner who works early mornings. Hob is also Having Some Feelings about this.
Thing is, though, they're getting closer (despite the fact that Hob is clearly falling out of love with Dream), and Dream ends up eventually explaining who/what he is.
And then-
"Oh," Hob says. "Is that how you're doing this?"
"Doing what?" Dream asks, nonplussed. They're in the Waking world, at a table in the back corner of the New Inn. Dream isn't doing much besides keeping a curious eye on one of the bartenders' daydreams of social media stardom, and even then, he's not sure how Hob would know that.
"No," Hob says, his voice low. "How you cured me. I've been dreaming of a cure for centuries, did you make that come true, somehow?"
A rush of hurt and anger nearly overpowers Dream, but Hob's looking at him with such genuine, earnest curiosity, a touch of admiration, and he realizes the truth. Hob wouldn't be the first person to fall out of love with Dream and fail to realize it, continuing to go through the motions until every trace of affection for Dream was destroyed.
He isn't sure if it's for his own sake or for Hob's that he says, "Have you considered that there may be an ordinary cause for your recovery?" and waits for the sword to fall.
"Oh," Hob whispers. Dream watches as the realization dawns on his face, only- he doesn't look disgusted, or angry, or disappointed. There's relief there, yes, which Dream had expected. He hadn't excepted joy, but there it is, the same all-encompassing happiness he sees every time he asks Hob what he thinks of his immortality.
Dream should not resent this. Loving him has only caused Hob pain, he should not resent that it is a joy for him to be freed. Still, it takes all his strength to keep the storm that is currently drenching the Dreaming from manifesting in his physical form.
He must not succeed, because Hob's expression is slowly shuttered by worry. "You're sure?" he asks, quietly.
Even when Dream had found him all those months ago, flowers clogging his lungs, unable to seek help for fear of what his fellow humans might do to him, he had not looked this fragile.
"I am Dream," he admits, staring at Hob's hand where it rests next to his on the table. As though it could make this any easier if he refuses to look at Hob's face. "It is not within my power to cure you in the Waking."
Silence. Far too much silence; if there is one thing Hob should not be, it is silent.
Hob's hand reaches out to cover Dream's, gentle as snow covering a corpse.
"Oh, love," he says, his voice just as gentle, "You did."
In a sense, yes, he had, by proving to Hob that he was not a creature to be loved. But if that were true, then why-
"I should have said something," Hob says. "Weeks ago, I should have-" He cuts himself off and squeezes Dream's hand, sending a shock of hope through Dream; he's discovered that the person he'd thought to be dead in the snow is still breathing. And Hob's hand is warm, a hearthfire when he'd lingered so long in the cold.
"Dream," Hob says, as solemn as Dream has ever heard him, "I have never stopped loving you."
He says it with the same certainty he'd told Dream, centuries ago, that he had too much to live for, and once again Dream can only stare at him in awe. There are very few things that a creature such as Dream might consider a miracle, but Hob, he thinks, is one of them. Perhaps one day he will find the words to tell him so.
For now, he threads his fingers with Hob's.
(and then they very slowly and cautiously start up a romantic relationship, Dream very worried that Hob will stop loving him and Hob very worried that Dream will get scared and leave, each of them trying to gently reassure the other that no I love you I'll stay as long as you want me. and eventually they both realize that they're on the same page there, and 'as long as you want me' is 'forever')
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takumiraine · 2 days ago
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Once Upon A Time chapter 5
<first> <prev> <next>
Jason Todd knew it was only a matter of time until his bubble burst and one of his brothers found out what he was getting up to. He was just hoping he could pull it off for a little longer. Even though the pit still reacted at the strangest times, he felt calmer, more normal, than he had in years. He wanted to hold it close and make sure nobody could take it from him.
From Replacement: you went back to college? Does B know?
Fuck.
Danny had been wary at first. Rich boy Jason Todd-Wayne in his college classes. The man was older than Jazz, though not by much, and a freshman with him. Either the guy was a bad influence or Danny just had really shitty luck.
He and the universe both knew the answer to than one really. But 60 bucks a week to reteach the guy basic math and Jason always gave him dinner in the deal? Danny wasn’t going to look that particular gift horse in the mouth. If there was one thing Danny had forgotten during the past almost two years it was how hungry his human side got. Not having money and being on the run meant opportunities to eat were few and far between.
What Danny didn’t expect was how sarcastic and assholish the rich guy could be. He loved trading snark. Danny assumed that it came from them both having older siblings. But between that and the half formed core that was slowly shoring up, Danny found himself growing attached. He had missed having friends. Getting to talk to Sam, Tucker and rarely Jazz through a conspiracy message board wasn’t enough. Most of the time it was just a way to make sure that nobody had been captured by the GIW. They had a way to pass longer messages but to do that too often would be suspicious.
“So I don’t get it,” Danny said, gesturing at Jason with some fries almost a month into tutoring, “What do people actually do at Galas? The tabloid pics just show a bunch of people in uncomfortable looking suits standing around with champagne.”
“….thats really it. It’s boring as shit.” Jason kicked his chair back on two legs, leaning against the wall. “If I liked you less I’d invite you.”
“If you liked me less?”
“Oh yeah. Because then you’d have to meet my brothers, the assorted not quite adopteds, my dad and scarier yet, our butler.” Danny choked on his laugh.
“Your butler is the scary one in that situation?”
“Alfred is like a ghost. Always there when you turn around.” Jason put on the accent “Master Jason, you really must come home more. Nobody quite enjoys my cooking like you.” He let the chair legs settle on the floor. “Now imagine that from behind you in a dark kitchen at two am while you’re half drunk and trying to make a sandwich.”
“Okay, yeah, I could see it being that scary. My sister was….” Shit he hadn’t meant to mention Jazz. “She was the only one who cared sometimes.” May as well rip that bandaid off.
“Yeah?” Jason asked, taking a drink from his coffee cup. “Didn’t know you had a sister.”
“My family and I don’t see each other anymore. It’s for the best.” He hoped Jason wouldn’t ask more questions, because ‘my parents sold me out to the government that only knew where I was because of the Justice League which is why I hate them and by association your dad, and now my sister is in hiding in a different state with a new identity’ was way too difficult to explain. “I left before they could kick me out.”
Danny watched Jason’s face twist into a frown. “Bigots suck. Sorry man.”
“Yeah…. Well…” Danny busied himself with finishing his burger. Then, once he chewed and swallowed. “Wait. Is your dad the one that fell into the champagne tower last year?”
Jason groaned, “he’s not always like that I promise.”
“No I get it. A weird ‘Family Friend’ invited us to his fancy party so he could hit on my mom once. I accidentally on purpose took out the entire buffet table including a cheese fountain so we had to go home.”
“Cheese fountain?”
“You know those chocolate fountains?” Danny asked. Jason nodded. “Like that, but with fondue cheese instead. And before you ask why, all I can say is it was in Wisconsin.”
Jason watched him with an unreadable expression for a moment, and Danny assumed he was processing it, because when the expression broke, Jason was laughing.
He looked so much younger when he laughed like that, and Danny remembered that they had both had, in their own ways, a rough life. “Yeah. I know. I was finding cheese in the weirdest places for weeks.”
“Did you get invited back?” Danny’s heart ached with the fact that a month or so later, Everything Fell Apart.
“No… I…” he cut himself off, remembering the horrified looks his parents gave him as their weapons, the ones he fixed, were turned against the ‘beast’ that ‘possessed’ their son. The looks mimicking the ones they gave him when the party screeched to a halt as he did his best impression of a Scooby Doo villain being unmasked. The screams of shock turning into ones of horror. The -
“-anny? Danny?” He blinked and shook his head.
“What? Oh, sorry.” He took another drink from the coffee, emptying the cup. “No. I never was asked back. You done?” He looked at their empty plates and grabbed the tray. “We should get to the library. Though I’m sure someone as good looking as you has plenty, these x-es won’t find themselves.” He was overcompensating for zoning out now, words coming out faster than normal.
“Yeah… are… you okay?” Jason asked, as Danny bussed their tray and grabbed his backpack, a backpack bought by his tutoring money. A tutoring gig he desperately did not want to fuck up with his own bullshit.
“Me? Fine. More than. I just zone out sometimes. Come on.” Danny’s words were still coming out too fast. He took a few breaths during the couple seconds Jason took getting his things, trying to ground himself as much as possible. He was going to be normal. He was going to be normal if it killed him. Again.
The walk to the library was quiet and Danny was thankful for that. He needed to get his head on straight if he was going to be any help to Jason and he still had his own homework to do after. As they walked in, both Danny and Jason instinctively looked towards the desk where Barbara usually worked, but she wasn’t there, some other guy was checking in books with quiet beeps.
Danny had learned over the last month that while Dick, Tim and Damian were Jason’s official siblings, Barbara was an unofficial one and he liked her the most.
It made sense, since she didn’t seem to pry into Jason’s life the way Jazz would have if she was here. Not that he would have minded her prying for how much he missed her, but four years ago he would have hated it.
Jason knew the haunted and hunted look that had settled into Danny’s eyes. The way he trailed off into something vacant. How his breathing seemed to get stuck in his chest. Which is why he tried to interrupt the cycle before he could spiral. Something big happened to him, and Jason knew he wouldn’t want to break down in a cafe in front of people.
Thankfully he seemed to snap out of it quickly, instead overcompensating into energetic. The message was clear. ‘Don’t ask about what just happened.’ Carefully, Jason let Danny lead him into the library, aware of his positioning and making sure not to follow too far behind or loom too much. Considering he had at least six inches on Danny, that last part was hard, but he tried.
He could feel the pit spiraling in him, circling and coiling like a dragon deep in his chest. Itching to do…. Something. It wasn’t punch or claw or fight. This was new. He didn’t like it in the slightest.
He looked over to where Babs usually was, then remembered she had a class, criminal justice degree, how apt, as he and Danny went towards what was now their spot. Jason found he had the sudden impulse to pull Danny’s chair out for him, and shoved that particular useless idea back down into the abyss it belonged in.
Danny looked over at Jason who stood at the edge of the table looking…. Angry? Confused? and pulled out his own books. “I promise, my zoning out isn’t contagious.” He said, looking up at Jason and kicking the chair across from him out from under the table for Jason to sit. He gave a wry smile, “if it was, I don’t think anyone in my high school would have made it.”
Jason snorted a laugh, snapping out of whatever thoughts he had been thinking. Jason pulled the chair out further and sat, sitting more comfortably than he used to. More of the true Jason, Danny was realizing, less of the person he was supposed to be. In another lifetime…. But no. He couldn’t… not while he was being hunted. It wouldn’t be fair to Jason to have to hide such a huge part of himself and his past.
Not to mention he hadn’t ever come out to Jazz and his friends. Well he had…. But more in the ‘hey I’m dead but not really’ way and less in the ‘so I like guys’ way.
But in spite of those barriers, this tentative friendship with Jason was enough to keep him happy.
Which made the next kick in the teeth from the universe completely expected.
All he had wanted was to walk home in peace. Sure it was almost midnight, in Gotham, but still. He made it most of the way, and was slinking through the Bowery when it happened.
Guys with dark clothes and weapons were suddenly in front of him. He turned only to see more at his back. There had to be five in total? Or was it six? Danny didn’t have time to count.
“Hey guys.” He hedged, muscles tensing as he raised his hands to show he wasn’t a threat. “Don’t mind me, I’m just trying to get home. Long walk and all that. If I could just…. Scooch past you?” Danny took a step to do just that and the lead goon swung at him with a baton.
He hopped back slightly, dodging the hit when it came. “Not a chance. Boss needs some…. Help with his latest ideas. You’re coming with us.”
Danny ran through his options in his head. Option 1: get kidnapped. Option 2: get the shit kicked out of him. Option 3: beat the shit out of them and get labeled as a possible bat to be or possible rogue to be. Option 4: go fully ghost and either escape unscathed but wind up more firmly on the GIW’s radar.
Option two or three would wind up happening, because he wasn’t going to put himself at the mercy of the Bat-ass again, and he wasn’t going to offer himself up on a silver platter to the GIW.
The moment one tried to grab him, Danny dodged out of the way, and that seemed to bring the goons on him en masse. They seemed well practiced, but considering it was Gotham, there wasn’t a big surprise there. The next few minutes were a flurry of elbows and knees, punches and kicks, batons and clubs.
Danny would dodge and counter, disarm one and fling their weapon across the street. He would have sore ribs and bruises from his elbows to his knuckles come morning but he was slowly winnowing them down. He had a brief thought about the conservation of ninjutsu, as the fewer goons there were the stronger they seemed to get. The realistic answer was they were less concerned with hurting each other when there were fewer of them, he knew that. But everything was more fun with ninjas.
When there were three left, one threw a punch that connected with his nose. There was a pop and crunch and a hot rush of blood down his face even before the pain set in. He spat out the blood that collected in his mouth from the way his head snapped back when he was punched. Another one came at him, and his own years of training caught the guy’s arm, judo throwing them into another look and sending them both careening into a wall. The move was trickier with gravity, but he made it work.
Danny looked up at the last remaining goon. He grinned, teeth too sharp and stained with his own blood, eyes glowing just the faintest green. “Run.”
They did.
Unfortunately for the goon, they ran smack into the chest of one Batman.
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ailurostheendless · 2 days ago
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Now that i think about It genuinely makes me anxious and sad knowing that they weren't in season 1 meaning in original timeline something happened after 1938. They either were killed or had to go away for some reason because you can see they really were loyal and adored Rang as their leader. Even complimenting Lee Rang as a leader who unlike other leaders treated them equally with what they get. So I imagine something really bad must have happened since Rang seems to be alone and didn't want anyone around him and it seemed like it had been years since he's been alone, Yuri had been in Rang's life around 5 year so I think probably soon after 1938 he lost the bandit in orginal timeline. What i think is they died due to some conflict or some reasons why Rang in season 1 seemed more vary of caring for anyone. Like he rescued the dog in season 1 and Yuri but wanted them to go away after he rescued then because he knows the pain of loosing and didn't want to be weak again and responsible for again releasing from their pain from his own hands (which seeing the end of season 1 where he had to kill Yeon all the more worse for him I'm surprised he didn't just k*ll himself with all the suicidal tendencies but then again technically he did since he gave away his life for Yeon). The puppy he rescued definitely reminds him of his own puppy he had to kill as a kid because of the pain it was in the mountain fire human put and was reluctant to keep Yuri around after rescuing her in both of fear and probably experienced loosing the bandit group horribly most likely and also because since the contractor was around with life debt on Rang he didn't want Yuri to be dragged in. Which makes sense because Yuri barely knew anything related to Rang and his life contractor she wasn't around or involved with Imoogi until she wanted to rescue Rang from a fatal injury. There's also that there is good chance the contractor had something to do with keeping Rang alone. Did he have a hand in Rang loosing the bandit either killed or maybe being driven away by the contractor and the contractor uses that to manipulate Rang more.
Honestly the original timeline seems so grim for Rang I'm honestly more curious what else happened when Yeon wasn't around Rang because there's a lot tha happened to Rang during Yeon's absence like after the Mountain was in fire and then there's a huge time skip of him killing people mechanically? Like he's not even himself? Why wait so long to kill the villagers? Something clearly happened to trigger him but we don't know.
Where was he ? How was he surviving? Was anyone with him? And the contractor was suspiciously on time to find a dying Rang even though Yeon thinks Rang survived because he missed Rang's vital point but Rang only survived due to the contractor finding him right on time to use cherry tree soul fruit to save his life putting him in life contractor. I wish at least in season 3 they explore that because we know Rang hates showing weakness and likley didn't tell Yeon. Because for him what's important is Yeon tried to not kill him then (which is depressing really)
Meaning the contractor knew ? Was he following Rang the entire time ? Did he do something to push Rang to kill? Did he know Yeon would miss the mark but fail to save Rang and use that to save Rang himself to kill? Is that why Yeon wasn't able to find Rang once his punishment was done?
Anyways so many questions around Rang's whereabouts. Honestly i would love to see a sequel series of original timeline and what transpired whenever he was alone after the mountain burned down. I want to see everything from then to present times without bigger plotholes to make the ml look better please. Like God the more seasons we get i honestly just have more questions on what happened to Rang in original timeline.
This moment in the second episode made me laugh out loud. 
The relationship Lee Rang has with his gang makes me weirdly proud of him. He felt abandoned but managed to find a group of people to surround himself with.
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painted-flag · 2 days ago
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OF FLOWERS AND DEATH - aemond targaryen
Chapter 19: The Scars of Betrayal
☾⋆⁺₊✧ dark elf!Aemond Targaryen x f!human!reader series. ✧₊⁺⋆☾ series masterlist. ☾⋆⁺₊✧ word count: 4.8k ✧₊⁺⋆☾ series warnings: 18+ depictions of violence/gore, eventual smut, warfare, sickness/disease, some moments of misogyny, and mentions of alcohol consumption. ☾⋆⁺₊✧ Tensions rise at the war camp, threatening to spill into the human kingdom.
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There was a long moment of silence as the information you and Aegon fed Daeron and Helaena sunk in. It was hard to prove without the physical evidence, but you and Aegon were determined to convince them. You started from the very beginning, from your father going on his trip to Lake Rosemagne and then to the moment you had been stabbed. Aegon filled in bits and pieces, moments in the past when Cole had made suspicious and altogether horrible decisions while on the council; especially vicious and cruel ones that heightened during the Great War. 
Once finished, Daeron and Helaena were silent. They sat in their spots and glanced back and forth between the two of you as if waiting for one to confess it had all been a lie. 
“Ser Cole is a longstanding loyal member of the council and guard.” Daeron’s voice was not coated in argumentative tones; he was simply trying to reason.
“Daeron, what reason would I or Aegon have to lie about this?” You asked him. 
Daeron shrugged. “Nothing… but you have to understand I have known him for almost two millennia. He should be given the common decency of innocent until found guilty.” 
Aegon became visibly frustrated as his gaze went down to your side. While the wound was covered, it was not an easy sight to forget. His gaze seemed so harden while looking at it, deeply disturbed by the violence shown to his friend. 
“If he was so innocent, why was he the first person after Aemond who came into the laboratory? What business would he ever have on this side of the castle?” Aegon forced out as his teeth ground together. The two brothers entered a stare-off. You then glance towards Helaena who looked nearly done with their behaviour. She got out of her seat and left the curtained area. You wish she did not leave, but you understood that this was likely the last thing she wanted to witness. 
“Aegon, I’m not saying I don’t believe you. This is just…” Daeron stood up from sitting on the edge of the bed and paced a small section of the room with his arms crossed. You simply sat there, not wanting to interfere in their conversation but also growing irritable. Each second that passed was a further second that could be used to prevent the war from happening. They seemed to forget that you were human and that it was your people about to become targets. 
“It’s what, Daeron? It’s pretty damn simple. Cole’s always been a twat but-” Aegon had stepped forward to go toe to toe with his brother, but the curtain shuffled once again and Helaena entered the room. The brothers stopped their movements and turned to her. 
“The guards have been called. I am assuming you will need around twenty?” She questioned. 
“Twenty?” Daeron responded. 
“Well, if you’re going to arrest Cole, I assume he’ll resist.” Helaena shrugged and went back to where she had been sitting. Her hands reached out to the nearby table and picked up her embroidery work to begin stitching again. You were more thankful than ever for Helaena’s willingness to trust and believe you. Since that day you had helped her, she had acted like a sister. 
“We can argue about the schematics of everything later, but now we need to get him before things escalate any further,” You reasoned. Your hands gripped the blanket and shoved it off of your form as you moved to sit with your legs hanging off the edge. The movement caused you to grunt in pain, letting out sharp and quick breaths. 
“What in the seven hells are you doing?” Aegon spoke as he and Daeron moved to try and push you back into a resting position. Their hands gently pushed on your shoulders but you shrugged them off. 
You shook your head, “I’m going with you.” 
“Absolutely not!”
“No!” 
Both of them spoke at the same time. You sighed deeply. This petty squabbling was beginning to push you over the edge. Nothing mattered but stopping this war by proving to Aemond that his advisor orchestrated it all. Aemond. You were terrified about what would happen to him. 
You loved him, simply and truly. It was not something you would have admitted so openly to yourself, but your close encounter with death had you shift your priorities. That state of dreaming you had been in forced you to come to terms with it.  
You needed to get to him before things became worse. He survived the last war, but there was no guarantee he would survive this one – especially if his closest advisor was so volatile and corrupt. 
“The two of you can keep talking, but I won’t be listening. Now, will one of you help me up?” You snapped. You looked up at them with the intensity a mother would when scolding their children for being too rowdy. They shirked back at your tone and glare. 
“If we’re going to do this, we have to do it right,” Daeron spoke, “I’ll organize the retinue of knights, simple guards are not skilled enough for this.” Daeron had finally relented his position but still had an air of skepticism. 
Aegon reached out to help you stand, his hold reassuring but cautious, “I’ll join you in that.” 
“Are you sure you want to come?” Daeron asked you, “Your wound has only just started to heal and we cannot guarantee your safety should anything happen.” 
You broke from Aegon’s hold and walked to him, only near stumbling once. You stared him right in the eyes with determination, “The bastard tried to kill me. There is no way I will sit this out.” 
“Good!” Aegon interrupted and squeezed his brother's shoulder, “Haven’t had a good conflict in a few centuries.” Aegon then gripped the fabric of Daeron’s shirt and tugged him free from the room. You looked towards Helaena and the events before you became clear. The risk of this, of arresting a high-ranking member of the court – an incredibly skilled one with a longstanding reputation – was not going to be easy. 
Bone-chilling dread had sunk into your body. Your first encounter with Cole’s wrath nearly killed you and this next one was likely to be your last; you could feel it.
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It was only after Aegon and Daeron had left that Helaena informed you of the full story when you had been incapacitated. To your knowledge, you had simply been stabbed. However, Helaena spoke about the knife being coated in taint. You had almost become faint at such a revelation, overcome with the feeling that you were going to die. However, you did nearly faint entirely when she said that the cure potion had worked. A few of the brews by some of the healers after you had been stabbed did not work, having gotten the process wrong. The one that Daeron made worked. He was closer than ever to your work and had understood fully the process you had outlined before Cole’s untimely attack. 
With only one pot made, it had been expressly used on you as a last resort to keep you from dying. There was not enough to give to others, but Daeron had instructed the other healers on how to brew it. It would be difficult to make in large batches, as the use of dark magic and energy draining took its toll on each elf that brewed it. As soon as the first batch was ready, they were instructed to administer it immediately to the most severe cases. 
You felt accomplished at that. All of your work, of your father's work, had succeeded. That was why, as Amara and Liriel got you dressed in elven armour for protection, you had accepted the likely possibility of this being your last day in the land of the living. Cole would not surrender without a fight and seeing you there as a walking testament to him finally being caught would be more than enough to do whatever possible to finish the job. 
Pieces of armour were attached to your body as Amara and Liriel silently worked. There was no need to speak, as the severity of the situation deeply settled on the shoulders of everyone. There was a good possibility that this would be unsuccessful. The unsettling feeling of war loomed close. Cole may have gotten what he wanted - a second chance at annihilating your kind.
You were no warrior, but the armour was purely for protection should anything go wrong.  
It was difficult to change into the new pieces that adorned you with the pain of your wound. Daeron had been correct about your fragile state. It had been a deep stab, penetrating multiple layers of your skin. Each movement, any strain, would cause scorching pain to spread out from your side. There had been a few times when Amara and Liriel had to stop for a moment. You only allowed yourself some milk of the poppy; any more and your mind would be too fuzzy. 
When you were done, you walked out of your room to see Aegon waiting for you. 
“Thank you, lovely ladies,” Aegon spoke to Amara and Liriel. His smile was strained. One part was an effort to make the situation feel lighter, the other was likely to reassure himself. 
Aegon then looked down the dimly lit hall before he stepped closer, “The castle is only minimally guarded. Go to Helaena’s apartments, it is the most secure. Should anything happen, the stationed guards will protect you both.” 
“We’ll be fine,” Amara said, “It's your lives that we’re worried about.” 
You moved forward to hug both of the elves. For you, it was a goodbye. You did not wish to tell anyone of your looming fear, for they would surely make a big deal of it. It was best to keep things as chipper as you could with the weight of war upon everyone. 
“Stay safe” Liriel whispered in your ear before releasing you from her hold. You sent them both a tight-lipped smile. Aegon began to walk down the hall and you followed closely after. 
Silence engulfed you during the walk towards the stables. Nothing but the pattering of your footsteps that echoed against the stone. You could smell the burning wood from the torches that lit up the way and you never thought you would be sad about leaving. This place had become your home. You longed to spend the rest of your days walking these halls, experiencing the parties and healing more elves. 
For the first time in your life, it felt right. Yet now, you were marching towards imminent death. 
Upon reaching the stables, you found comfort in the twenty guards that sat ready on their horses. Daeron was in front and wore elf armour like Aegon. You had never seen them in such prestigious pieces. For the first time since you came here, they truly looked like royalty. There was a set of steps next to one of the two horses that were positioned in the front by Daeron. Aegon helped you up the steps and to mount your horse. It was difficult and you wanted to pause multiple times due to the pain but chose not to. 
Your hands gripped the reins with intensity as your knuckles turned white. You sucked in short breaths, anything longer caused you to be in more pain. When both of you were ready to go, Daeron nodded his head to the elves lined up behind and called his horse to move. From what you were told, Aemond’s camp was only a few hours away from the capital. He wanted to invade at the closest border edge, which happened to be near the village you had lived in. 
The dark forest had slowly disappeared as your company got closer to the edge. The trees were younger and scraps of light filtered through the leaves. The air became warmer and beads of sweat had begun to trail down your neck. You dragged the back of your arm across your forehead to wipe away some of the gloss that coated your skin. None of this helped the bitter fever that had taken hold as your body fought away infection from the wound. 
A camp came into view that was settled amongst the young trees. Many soldiers stood around both in and out of armour and conversed around the camp. Others were standing guard on their makeshift perimeters. Various tents and sitting spaces were erected to accommodate the rising numbers of elves coming from all corners of the kingdom. 
As your group made its way to the buzzing camp, a squad of elves marched forward to block your horses. You could see that both Daeron and Aegon took great offence to this. 
“Let us pass,” Daeron did not want to cause tensions to rise and spoke with a gentle tone. There was no reason to confront them with anger over what could very well be a misunderstanding. 
“We cannot let you in, my prince.” The guard at the front of the group spoke. He wore the typical silver armour with green and gold embellishments – the elven kingdom colours. It was plated and complex, indicating a higher rank among the other soldiers. Slick, greasy black hair hung from his head in tiny ringlets.
“And why do you refuse the orders from your prince?” Aegon questioned. 
“We have orders from the general to not let anyone in,” The elf responded. You flinched just slightly at the mention of Cole. The horse you were on sensed your unease and began to dig its hooves into the ground as it swayed from side to side. 
“Well, we outrank the general, so best move to the side,” Aegon dismissed the elf with a wave, but he remained steadfast in his position. 
“We may let both of your graces in, but the human cannot pass.” His beady eyes pierced through you and the same intensity of hate you recognized in Coles's eyes was replicated in his. 
Daeron scoffed at his words, “Where we go, she goes.” 
“Then I am afraid none of you can enter. We have strict orders.” You knew his excuse was thin. Cole had likely feared you living or any of the brothers figuring out what he had done. You were just being used as a piece on the board. If you had not been here, they might have come up with another lie to prevent Daeron and Aegon from reaching Aemond. 
“That’s bullshit,” Aegon then turned to the twenty guards behind him and they got the message to be on guard, “You will let us through, now.” At this point, numerous members of the camp stood and watched, unsure of what to do. 
“We do not wish to escalate things further. It is best that you concede.” Daeron tried to reason. 
Aegon shared a look with you. His head moved almost imperceptively to gesture onwards while mouthing ‘go.’ Your heart began to thump quickly at the implication. The horse you had been on had been growing antsy and was likely ready to sprint off any second. One, two, and three calming breaths came in and out of your body. One hand rested on your wound and knew this was going to hurt. Your other hand tightened on the reins and in a split moment, you spurred the horse on. 
It lurched forward and swept past the men. You heard shouts from behind you but were unwilling to glance back. You had no idea where Aemond’s tent may be, but you assumed it would be closer to the centre of camp. Thankfully, that intuition was correct. In little time you had skidded to a halt outside a tent that was significantly larger than the others. Other elves around had turned to look at you as you galloped near but went about their activities likely having recognized you and thought you had come simply because of your status as a healer. 
You were grateful that none interfered with you. 
Getting off the horse had been a near disaster. Each movement you made was painful and you feared your stitches would rip at any moment. You hunkered over for a moment once finally on the ground and wheezed. Steeling yourself, you moved towards the entrance flap that had been closed. You pushed it to the side and stood at the entrance. 
You looked around at the tent, cluttered with weapons, pieces of armour, and a large war table. It held a map of all the known lands and pieces were laid out strategically. You could not find a cot in your scan, instead finding a reasonably comfortable-looking chair with a blanket folded on it. If that was any indication of your beliefs, you would gather that Aemond had not slept or at the very least got little sleep. Even in such a space, you could smell Aemond’s signature scent of parchment, firewood, and spices. 
You finally zeroed in on Aemond who stood at the centre of the tent. His back was to you and you could see the armor that adorned his form. It was a contrast to his usual choice of leathers, however it suited him. All of the metal pieces, from the greaves on his calves to the pauldrons on his shoulders were coloured black with gold outlines; real gold that shined in the light that illuminated the tent. He had a long red piece of fabric that acted like a cape, strung from both sides over a single shoulder. The large broadsword he always had was strapped to his waist. 
In your not-so-humble opinion, he was a vision of phantasmal beauty; a spectre of frightensome splendor.
Aemond had likely confused you with someone else he had been expecting, too focused on adjusting the armour piece on his shoulder, “All of their lands will be burned as we move forward. For what they’ve done, reduce it all to ash.” 
It had come back to you again that he was speaking of your people, your towns, your cities that he wished to destroy. Your relief at seeing him had been knocked down with disappointment. Those flashes of memories you had seen in that trap between the living and dead came forth; you had finally understood his hate towards your kind for all the pain that had been inflicted upon him. You could truly see him now. 
“Aemond.” You whispered his name in both disappointment and relief while utterly breathless. No use of ‘your grace’ or any other acknowledgement of his title – only the desperate pleading of a name. His body froze and his shoulders squared up tightly. The red cape that he had been affixing to his shoulder fell to the ground. Aemond’s head turned just slightly before his body did as well. 
There was a moment of confusion that swept across his features. He nearly took a step back, but placed his foot forward and approached you slowly. You were overwhelmed by the look in his eye. For once, the blue ocean in his eye calmed and left behind a glittering reflection of a calm sea of adoration. He approached you, unsure and scanning the length of your body as if it were a mirage. 
You wanted to speak, truly you did, but his look sucked all the air from your lungs. You had never received such an emotional face from anyone in your life. He was right in front of you then, sweeping his eye across your face. The heat that started in your stomach moved across your body and turned the skin of your cheeks a dark shade of red. 
It was hesitant, but Aemond moved his arms around your waist and pulled you into a hug. It was clear, by the awkward positioning, that he was not used to expressing such sentiment. There were likely centuries that had passed between now and the last hug he received. You responded immediately and wrapped your arms around his shoulders. The armour led to a degree of separation, but you did not mind. However, his hold tightened after you reciprocated and pain bloomed from your side. 
A wince came forth from your lips and you flinched. Aemond pulled away like he, too, was hurt. Your hands went to your side, where underneath the metal plackart was your wound. You could feel the strain the stitches made on your skin. 
“I,” Aemond’s mouth opened and closed a few times, “How are you…” 
“Daeron, he’s a damn genius with stitching people back together.” You sucked in a breath as more shoots of pain rippled through your body. 
Aemond shook his head, “But the knife had taint on it.” 
You nodded at his words, “Yes but my idea worked. The cure… We did it.” Your lips wobbled. You were unsure if you were trying to smile or hold back a sob at the culmination of years of work. He moved his hands to cup your face, thumbs brushing your cheekbones. 
“You did it.” His words were light and graceful, washing over you in waves. It was a stark contrast to his attitude when you first arrived. He had treated you with nothing but disregard then – no human could ever come close to the level of intellect and elves possessed. You were glad to prove him wrong. 
The reason as to why you came so hastily pushed forth in your mind, “Aemond, it was not humans that did this.” 
“What?” His thumbs stopped brushing your cheeks but his hands stayed in place. You swallowed and shook your head. It would be difficult to tell him that his closest friend was a traitor – an elf colluding with sinister means. You placed your hands over his and hoped it would help support him when you exposed his friend's transgressions.
“It was not humans that infiltrated the lab. I’m sorry, but–” The tent opening ruffled with movement. Both you and Aemond turned your heads to watch Cole enter the tent. Dread and fear gripped your body and set itself deep in your heart which had begun to beat rapidly. Aemond’s hands dropped from your face, but you remained right next to him. You wanted to shrink behind him and hide and pray that this could all go away. However, the rage that built up in you at seeing the elf that tried to kill you overcame that fear. 
“Ah,” Cole plastered on a fake smile, “It’s good to see you up and about.” 
“No thanks to you,” You sneered. 
“You seem to be delirious. All of that milk of the poppy must be messing with your mind.” Cole moved to step closer, but you flinched back. Aemond noticed that reaction and held his arm out in front of you. 
“Are you alright?” He asked you sincerely. You swiped your tongue across your chapped lips. While your body faced Aemond, you were staring down Cole. There was no way you could look away from him; you would not give him an advantage over you. 
“Ask Cole.” You answered. 
Aemond looked to his friend with a questioning face, but Cole continued to brush it off, “Do not worry your grace. She is suffering from delusions, I can escort her back to the castle.” 
“Coward,” Your teeth gritted together, “Show him the marks on your arms. Show him the spell-casting marks that happen to coincidentally match those on the patients.” You were more thankful than ever that Lyra had brought them to your attention. That morning she showed you the marks felt like a lifetime ago. You were too late to save her, but not too late to kill the one who played a part in her death. 
“Or maybe show him the book that Aegon found in your room, the one with all that dark magic.” You finished. 
“Your grace, listen to her delusion. It is–” 
“Perhaps, most of all, tell him why you are still standing here after murdering my father.” By then you had been reduced in tone. Your lips quivered with unvoiced sobs and tears lined your eyes. You wanted to be brave, to face this with no fear, but your life had been nothing but that and you were exhausted more than ever. 
“What in the seven hells is she talking about, Ser Cole?” Aemond asked. His arm had wrapped around your waist when you had become unstable as you stood there. The pain in your wound intensified with your mood. 
“Tell him how heinous you are, how tainted your soul is.” The final accusation was laid out in the open. While Aemond may not understand what you said, Cole clued in on your choice of words. His eyes darkened and his jaw locked.
“I will not stand here and take such accusations.” Cole simmered with anger. He scoffed towards you and turned back to leave the tent. Once again, the coward was fleeing. When he left, you followed quickly after. The intensity of the glaring sun nearly knocked you off your feet. When you got out, you were surprised to see Aegon and Daeron already standing outside the tent. The guards that came with you formed a half circle. Cole occupied some free space. 
“Ah, good to see you, Cole.” Aegon had his arms crossed and a smug look on his face. 
“Let me through,” Cole demanded.
Daeron and Aegon looked at one another before turning back to him. Daeron’s lips were in a tight line, “Absolutely not.” 
“What is going on here?” You had not even noticed Aemond’s form behind you until he spoke to his brothers. He was close, with his chest just short of hitting your back. 
You turned to Aemond with a solemn look on your face, “It was Cole, the whole time.” His brow twitched at your words but you continued, “The taint, he played a part in it. He murdered my father and he was the one who stabbed me.” 
Aemond shook his head, “No,” His voice showed that he was clearly in denial. 
“Brother,” Daeron spoke, “We can tell you the truth after Cole is in the dungeons.” 
“Where are these accusations coming from?” Aemond questioned, “What validity could they possibly hold?” 
You turned to Aemond and rested a hand on the metal covering his chest while you looked him in the eye, “I know this all sounds overwhelming right now, but I promise it will all make sense.” 
“Then tell me now,” Aemond told you. His hand went up to cover yours that was placed on his chest. You did not know if he did it consciously, but he made no move to let go. Cole had been watching and his gaze intensified. 
You remember growing up, in the stories your father told you, that there were evil people who did evil things, but their motivations behind it were not always bad. He emphasized that a lot; he had always been particular in his ability to see the good in people, no matter who. You had taken those lessons to heart like all the other wisdom imparted to you. Evil was something that often came from desperation, either to protect oneself or others in some twisted reasoning. 
Even now, looking at Cole, you could not see what your father would have been able to see. Perhaps, there was no reasoning behind Cole’s motives. You highly doubted that. There was a reason, as deep as the secrets he kept. You hoped to be privy to it. You wanted to know why he had done this but knew there may never be an answer. 
Cole had begun to laugh. Not jovial, but strange and wild in temper, “Still now you listen to those things.” You were worried that he would make a miscalculated move and hurt any of the surrounding elves, but he seemed to be caught up in his reverie. 
“You betrayed your people… for a fucking peace treaty.” Cole’s words seemed to knock into Aemond and make a profound impact. In all their years together, you doubted Cole had ever spoken to him like that. 
“What the hell are you talking about?” Aemond said. 
“The war. Those things,” Cole had raised his voice and pointed at you, “killed countless of our people, your people. And you just ended it all with a piece of parchment, like none of them ever mattered.” 
Aemond stepped forward to be by your side, “Our people had seen enough violence,” 
“That’s where you’re wrong. This time, we’ll take them all out. Starting with this spoiled bitch.” Cole had become nearly raving mad. He reached towards his waist and pulled his long sword out of his scabbard to point directly at you, only a person’s distance away. 
You were frozen in fear, staring at the glinting steel that aimed to strike you down. 
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Chapter 20: An Elf's Rage Preview
Elves were immortal, but still susceptible to death. That you knew all too well in the eyes of your patients. The fleeting of their soul was something you recognized. 
That is why it petrified you to see that same look on Aemond.
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feelbokkie · 11 hours ago
Text
L♡VE IN F♡CUS | Chapter 15
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PAIRING: idol!Changbin x fem reader
WARNINGS:
GENRE: smau, crack, angst, fluff
P♡V: 1st/2nd person (depending on how you view it)
SUMMARY: Amateur concert photographer Y/n has recently been promoted to junior music journalist. Her first assignment? An exposé on the popular Kpop boy group, Stray Kids. Spending an entire tour doing in depth interviews with eight men seems simple enough, but one member isn't exactly open to the idea. Will Y/n be able to break down the walls around his heart, or will her big break turn into a big disaster?
TAGLIST: closed
W♡RD C♡UNT: 2,132
SCREENSH♡T C♡UNT: 17
A/N: we're officially at the halfway mark of the series
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©feelbokkie (2024) — all rights reserved. reposting/modification of any kind is not tolerated.
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“Okay, one more time for your Instagram. Ready? 1…2…3!”
Click
You pull the camera away from your face and immediately check the image as best you can on the tiny screen. Not long after, you’re surrounded by 10 men, crowding around you, slightly pushing each other so they can see the picture, too. One by one, each of them gives off some sort of hum of approval before breaking away from the group.
“Here, let me just…” You go through the settings in your camera and send the picture via Bluetooth to Minjae’s phone. You also make sure to send a copy to their manager.
You power down your camera before digging your phone out of your pocket. You open up a new contact and hand your phone to their manager. “Can I have your phone number and email? I’ll finish the article in a few hours and email it for approval. Once everything is set, we’ll post the article online.”
The manager nods his head as he takes your phone. You watch the group fondly from the corner of your eye as they dance and cheer excitedly by the infamous Music Bank stairs. You take mental notes of each of their reactions, storing them in a safe place for when you write the article.
“Here you go.” Your eyes snap back to the man in front of you as you take your phone back, double-checking that everything was put in correctly. Satisfied, you save everything and put your phone back into your pocket.
“Perfect,” You say cheerfully. You turn back to the group, some of which are trying to take pictures behind the handrail of the stairs. Minjae quietly gets their attention as he notices you staring. “Congratulations again on your first win! I can’t wait to see more of your achievements in the future. Xikers, fighting!”
A small wave of ‘thank yous’ are hurled your way and you can’t hide the smile that appears on your face. You wave goodbye before turning back to the small table near the green room where you left your coffee. Surprisingly, it’s still there along with other abandoned drinks. You take a moment to set your bag on the table and carefully disassemble your camera, making sure to properly close the caps to avoid anything from happening. You wedge your camera safely next to your laptop.
You close up your bag and finally pick up your coffee before taking a long-awaited sip. It’s watered down now—that much you expected after letting it sit for nearly two hours.
Your eyes scan the room as you sip. You've been backstage since the show wrapped earlier and have yet to catch a glimpse of Changbin. It doesn't help that pretty much every idol that attended the show is still backstage, either filming content with their group members or other idols. You're not even sure you're supposed to still be backstage. Surely, you look suspicious standing off on a corner all by yourself with a "press" badge hanging off your neck. You can't simply say that you're waiting for Changbin. Everyone knows that Stray Kids didn't appear on the show so why would any one of them be there?
"You're not allowed to be here, miss." A high-pitched voice breaks your concentration.
"Oh sorry, I was waiting for someone but...ah," You turn to apologize to whoever is talking to you. You pause mid-sentence when you lock eyes with Changbin. The mischievous smirk you've grown accustomed to twitches on his face as he tries, and fails, to hide it.
"Really, noona? You fell for that?" He lets out a laugh that almost sounds like a cackle, scrunching his nose in the process.
His hair is back to black but wavy again. His skin-tight black shirt is tucked into slightly baggy blue jeans with large pockets that resemble cargo pants. A large winter coat hangs from his left hand, just barely scratching the floor.
"Haha, very funny." You roll your eyes. You suck in the pout threatening to appear on your face and shift your weight onto a different foot. You're also acutely aware that other people in the room can misunderstand what's going on. "What did you want to give me, Changbin-ssi? A hard time?"
Changbin's expression drops, his mouth slightly agape as his eyes dart back and forth, searching your face. "Wait, are you mad? Really?"
"Why? Because I'm talking to you formally? I'm not, I'm just addressing you how I should." You quietly take another sip from your drink, suddenly feeling awkward.
"Well, I don't like it," His bottom lip sticks out so quickly, you're almost certain it's an involuntary movement. Still, it looks like someone kicked a puppy.
"We're in public and someone will misunderstand." You whisper. Still, you stay where you're standing, doing nothing to close the gap between the two of you.
"So? Let people think what they want to think. I'm talking to my friend,"
"You and I know both know very well that's a dangerous thing to do in your line of work." You mutter under your breath, getting tired of the tiny argument. "Anyway, what did you have for me?"
"Oh right," He pats around the pockets of his pants until he finds something small in his back right pocket. "Here, this is very important. You need to guard it with your life."
Changbin grabs your wrist, something you're hoping nobody saw, and pulls your hand closer to him. He turns your hand around, making your palm face up. He carefully places something in your hand and closes your fingers around it before you can even get a chance to see what it is. After he lets go of you, you pull your hand back, eying him cautiously, and slowly open your hand to see what he gave you.
In the center of your hand lays a black thumb drive with what appears to be a white star crudely drawn on it. You tilt your head back up, your eyes continuously glance between Changbin and the thumb drive. "What's this?"
"Our next mini album. I don't know how much is in there so I don't know what I'm allowed to tell you."
You close your fingers around the thumb drive, keeping your grip tight now that you know what's in your hands. "Already? Hop is barely a month old. And you're about to go on tour again."
"It's...it's not coming out until late February, early March. We'll have time to do promotions and then rest before we do the rest of the tour. Chan hyung wanted you to have it now so you could have time to write the review and not stress."
"He could have just emailed it to me. No need to send you to hunt me down."
"He tried. Technology is fickle and he's an old man."
"I'm older than him,"
"Really?" You can't tell by the way Changbin is tilting his head to the side if he's teasing you or being serious.
You shake your head, ignoring him, as you carefully put the thumb drive in your back. You can't help but let out a deep sigh. "Jeez, and you call me a workaholic,"
"What was that, noona?" Changbin leans in a bit to hear you better.
Too close.
You stumble slightly as you back up. You brace yourself to hit the wall behind you only to be stopped suddenly, by a firm grip on your wrist.
"Careful, noona," Changbin warns. His eyes focus on you while yours shift around behind him. Your eyes settle on a group of four trying to work on a dance challenge near the stairs.
"Thank you," You mumble as you shake your wrist out of his.
You know that another reporter is walking around somewhere. There has to be, there's no way you're the only one. And if you are, you know that there are staff members who'll gossip with whomever they can at any given moment. The last thing you want is for Changbin to falsely end up on dispatch.
"So," Changbin clears his throat. "were you planning on eating something or were you going to run on coffee beans all day?"
You tilt your head slightly to the side in confusion until Changbin gestures to your now empty coffee cup. "Oh, I--"
Buzz, buzz
You press your lips together and shoot Changbin an apologetic look as you answer your phone without looking at the caller ID. "Hello?"
"Hey, I'm here. They won't let me park in the parking lot but I'm near a loading zone. Are you almost done?"
"Wonnie?" The voice throws you off for a moment. You're not sure who you expected but it wasn't exactly him.
"Yeah? Are you okay? I said I was going to pick you up, remember? If you're done come out. Frankie is insufferable when she's hangry." He says a bit louder.
"Yeah, okay, I'll be out in a moment." You hang up the call and focus your attention back to Changbin who now sports a slight scowl on his face. "Sorry, I already have lunch plans. And then I need to get home and finish this Xikers piece."
"You need to take breaks, noona. Album reviews, award show wins, tour-centered projects? You don't have to be on the go all of the time." His expression softens, a slight twinkle shines in his eye.
"I don't do award show wins. I just begged my boss to let me cover this event because I've been following Xikers since before their debut and I wanted to be the one to cover their first Music Bank win. And I'm not the only one who needs to slow down. This is the 3rd album you've guys done and it hasn't even been six months yet."
You can see Changbin biting his inner cheek, stopping himself from saying something. He nods slowly, almost in agreement. "I didn't intend to argue with you, noona. I'm sorry. I get having the drive to work but I have seven brothers who'll keep me and check and keep an eye out for me if I'm about to crash. Who do you have?"
You can't stop the scoff that escapes your throat fast enough as you cross your arms. You dig your nails into your arms to keep yourself calm. It's bad enough that a quarter of the music industry is in the same room you are, if you get a bad reputation as a reporter, you're done for.
As much as what he said rubs you the wrong way, you force a smile. You know he means well, your relationship has gotten significantly better since the two of you made amends months ago. And as much as you may dislike it, Changbin is a much more straightforward person than he comes off as in videos. He's always willing to deal out the hard truths first and then try to soften the blow after. At the end of the day, you know he means well.
"I'm fine, Changbin, really. If you compare the two, my job is a lot more relaxed than yours."
"Comparison is the thief of joy," He says seriously.
"What are you? A fortune cookie?" You can't help but laugh. A large smile appears on Changbin's face making the crinkles in the corner of his eyes appear. Somehow, his expression reminds you of something.
You dig around for something in your bag before your fingers graze a small envelope holding the two Pokémon cards you got from Wonseok and Wonjae during Christmas. You pull out the envelope and give it a once over before holding it out to Changbin. "Here, I was supposed to give you this back in Hong Kong but things were hectic. See? I'm giving you a gift so you know I'm not mad."
Changbin takes the envelope from you and opens it immediately. His face lights up as he pulls out the cards, and yet, no words come out. This is probably the quietest you've ever seen him.
"They're your favorite right?" You close your bag once more and readjust it on your shoulder.
"Yeah but how did you...?" His voice trails off as he looks at both cards.
"That's what happens when you're good at your job." You tease, winking at him. You check your phone one more time as a text comes in from Wonseok telling you to hurry up. "You don't have to worry about me overworking, Changbin. You should not worry about me being late for this lunch date. I'll see you during the comeback, maybe. If not, I'll see you in Chile."
"...Yeah, bye noona," Changbin whispers more to himself than to you. You nod quietly and make your way to the exit before you get another call from Wonseok.
Buy me a coffee?
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mythalism · 17 hours ago
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I love everything that you write and I wanted to bring this up with you. I feel like if we had seen the actual moment (at least in one of the regrets) of Mythal’s death, it would have been so impactful. It’s something that Solas talks about constantly and that he feels responsible for and I feel like it would have been a huge moment for the player to see in the story. I dunno. Just ranting. Thoughts?
thank you anon 🥺 i would love to yap about this with you… i think you are totally right that seeing mythal’s death would have been really powerful. i COULD be amenable to an argument that keeping it off screen adds to the drama and tension and the way mythal haunts the narrative…. IF that was their intention… but i don’t think it was lol i think it was probably another victim of the messy development.
mythal so thoroughly haunts the narrative and the lighthouse itself… i think if they leaned into that and we ONLY saw her through solas’s pov in murals, keeping the mystery of her murder off-screen would make sense. but considering we literally get to talk to her, she has enough of an on-screen presence that maintaining that sense of separation is already a lost cause. we also know mythal on some level through flemeth, who has literally ranted about mythal’s death!!! “she was betrayed as i was betrayed”!!!! i think it would have been a nice climax of flemethyal’s arc to see that betrayal or at least hear about it.
i totally agree that it would have humanized solas further and i think that would’ve been nice to see, especially how his complicated grief for her was the catalyst/final straw against the evanuris of the veil going up. he also does actually talk about her murder several times, and we know it happens with THE DAGGER so it feels like it would’ve made sense to elaborate on how it happened more, and the fact that it’s his dagger, that she told him to make, that he used to tranquilize the titans, that he carries with him still, that he is so attached to and obsessed with, THAT DAGGER that did it!? it would have served as a really nice metaphor for his attachment to his grief and regret and the precious world, manifested physically in this dagger that also KILLED MYTHAL (and Varric now too!!)
he actually brings up what im assuming is her death when you ask him about blood magic (lol a lot to unpack here but that’s for another time) and honestly idk what to make of his convo because the way he speaks about it is very detached which i find interesting. obviously this might not be about Mythal but the implication that the dagger used was made via blood magic and sacrifice and “I suppose it depends upon the dagger" is suspicious to me….
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anyway, i think who would’ve really benefitted most from us seeing mythal’s murder is ELGAR’NAN!!!!!! HELLO!?!?!? HE MURDERED HIS WIFE AND ITS ONLY MENTIONED ONCE WHEN HE AND SOLAS ARGUE!?!?!?!? WHAT THE FUCK????? the fact that mythal and elgar’nans relationship is nearly nonexistent is one of veilguard’s biggest sins to me. it should have been a huge part of the main story. they are literally THE SUN AND THE MOON. THEY ARE THE ALL MOTHER AND ALL FATHER OF ALL ELVES?????????? and he betrays and murders her and stabs her in the stomach. and literally no one talks about it ever it just doesn’t come up except for like 2 lines. elgarnan was such a one dimensional villain with no motivations (being a naturally evil spirit of tyranny doesn’t count and it’s boring) and no attachments and he feels completely inhuman as a result. like literally he’s just evil and that’s it and it’s so boring. we could have had such an interesting exploration of love and betrayal and how power corrupts and what it must’ve been like to be basically Elven Adam and Eve and a jealous man’s resentment culminating in violence and how mythal’s closeness to solas impacted her relationship with elgarnan like it could have been SO INTERESTING. and yeah. seeing her murder would’ve been a logical conclusion to a lot of build up. put it on the list of things we lost i guess 😔
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horseshoegirl · 15 hours ago
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Dragon Age: AntivanCrow!MickeyGarcia
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When I tell you I have a soft spot for the Crows .... 👀 Mickey just fits into their world... 🖤
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The rooftop smelled of wet stone and stale chimney smoke, a stench Mikhael, or Mickey as his cousin liked to tease him with, had long since stopped noticing. The city of Kirkwall sprawled below him in jagged shadows, the faint hum of voices and clatter of wagons never truly ceasing. He crouched low, his silhouette blending with the crumbling stone parapet, his eyes fixed on his mark.
You. A forgotten Trevelyan. And a mage, no less.
You were nothing like he’d imagined when he’d taken the contract. The dossier had painted you as dangerous, a rogue apostate with ties to blood magic, someone who could snap their fingers and turn him into ash. Instead, you stood in a patch of weak moonlight outside your tiny cottage, a shawl draped over your shoulders, humming softly as you fed scraps to a mangy dog.
Not exactly the harbinger of chaos he’d been promised.
Mikhael adjusted his position, feeling the familiar weight of his twin daggers at his hips. Weeks of observation had told him one thing: you were no threat. No shady deals in dark alleys, no suspicious visitors slipping in and out of your home. Just endless days of mending clothes, tending to sick children, and healing wounds with gentle spells and elfroot that barely flickered with power.
It didn’t make sense.
The Crows didn’t take just any job. Whoever had paid the exorbitant sum for this contract clearly wanted you gone for reasons beyond what they’d told him. And yet… it wasn’t his job to ask questions. It was his job to kill.
So why had he spent three weeks not doing that?
“Don’t get soft,” he muttered under his breath.
The dog barked once, startling him out of his thoughts. You turned your head slightly, scanning the shadows. Mikhael stilled, every muscle going taut as you stared in his direction.
“I know you’re there,” you called out, voice steady but laced with uncertainty. The dog let out another growl, baring its teeth.
Mikhael debated melting into the shadows and slipping away for a split second, as he’d done so many times before. But something about how you stood there, with your chin held high despite the fear in your eyes, made him hesitate.
“Are you going to come out, or should I just start throwing fireballs?” you added, a teasing lilt to your words.
Mikhael smirked despite himself. Bold. He liked that.
Slowly, he stood, stepping into the pale moonlight. The dog growled louder but didn’t move, clearly more bark than bite. Your eyes widened, and he saw fear flicker for a moment. Then you straightened, your expression hardening.
“Well?” you demanded. “Who are you, and what do you want?”
He could have killed you then. Should have. A quick throw of his dagger would end it all, and the Crows would never know how long he’d hesitated. But instead, he found himself saying, “Just passing through.”
Your brow arched. “On my roof?”
Mikhael shrugged, his smirk deepening. “Best view in the city.”
Something told him that, for better or worse, this job was about to get a hell of a lot more complicated.
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pseudowho · 20 hours ago
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Good god, I thought I was the only one that would literally roll my eyes and exit the page at child like descriptions of genitalia in fanfic. Do you have any insight as to why that has become a thing?
Side note: You absolutely rock in a cool older sister way
Warning! Please do feel free to block me if this is not to your liking. Personal theories and opinions ahead that may well make you hate me!
I have quite a lot of theories, but! all of them are theories, interspersed with my personal opinions, and none of them are pleasant. Here they are...
The trend of hyperfetishisation of, and normalisation of sexualising extreme youth/barely legal young women, has possibly created a push towards extra young 'women' being viewed pornographically. Those who are young in our communities may often therefore feel their burgeoning sexuality is validated, and seek to reflect images of extreme youth in their depictions of pornography (smut).
The rise of labiaplasty; once more, teaching young women that their perfectly normal bodies are disgusting has paid off. I can say with firsthand experience that the amount of women paying money for surgery to make their genitalia as 'barely there' as possible (almost like a child's) is climbing.
The trend towards hypermasculinity, and traditional male!dom, female!sub roles in the heterosexual community where historically the man has been significantly older, and this was considered normal. This has created a push towards 'daddy' culture (in an older man, and much younger girl/woman, way). This will ultimately increase the push for women and girls to be portrayed as younger in porn/smut.
Women's bodies have, throughout the ages, been expected to fall into fashion trends, as if we are clothes to be worn by men. Pin-up girls were expected to have a certain shape (the in fashion shape!) to cater to men. Noughties 'cocaine/heroin chic' builds were typically the ones that would be seen on the arms of the most famous men.
And now? The hyperfetishisation of youth is back. So our society is now creating a progressive push towards extra young women being pushed to the foreground as aspirational partners.
What's even filthier about this, is it has allowed more and more people to feel ethically validated in 'blurring the line' between girls and women, and it appeals to young girls and young women, at the time in their lives when they're often most likely to seek validation.
Society is taking advantage of young women and girls wanting to be wanted, by telling them that it's okay for a barely legal girl to be pursued by a much older man.
In short: I worry about what I feel is a concerning rise in the push towards extremely young women being the 'partner of choice'. There seems to be a patriarchal push back towards women remaining less powerful in more submissive societal roles and in partnerships with men, and it's being packaged as 'womens' choice'.
I'm not saying that young women and girls being able to explore their sexuality is wrong; not at all. I fully support it. I just always ask the question: who is leading this, and why, and who is in control here?
Not all men are as feminist as we write them on Tumblr. Not all men are how we write Nanami Kento. As well most of us know. Which is why we're here...writing men who will be dominant/take care of us while respecting us fully. Because deep down, a lot of us feel that this man is a fantasy.
Older women aren't bitter than men our own age often want younger women; we're suspicious of their reasons for it. Is it because she's less self confident? That you perceive her as easier to mould? That she's less likely to see all of your red flags? Hmm.
Love,
-- Haitch xxx
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mychlapci · 2 days ago
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My liege I wanted to submit this during celibacy week but I ended up being so busy aughhhhhh oh well that just means we can make it horny now if it so happens to happen
Been thinking about... domestication... What if, when Minimus returned to Luna-1, being stripped of his rank and armour wasn't enough. What if he cried and protested and begged when Tyrest took the armour, and Tyrest decided Minimus was so unworthy that he doesn't even deserve to exist as he currently is.
When Rodimus and Rung and the rest of the gang end up imprisoned on Luna-1, they meet a strange little turbofox curled up in the corner. Its smaller than what they would expect. It's also very green. Whilst Rodimus is busy yelling about being stuck here, Rung gently approaches the creature, a little curious about why a mechanimal would be imprisoned here, but more because the thing looks so scared. The little kibble-fluff it has shakes and rattles whilst its big ears are pressed back in fear. And yet, when Rung approaches, it doesn't growl or bare its teeth. It just stares, optics wide, afraid.
It takes some coaxing with a few rust sticks and gentle pets, but the turbofox is gradually lured out of its corner. It doesn't seem to want to be held, struggling when Rung tries to pick it up. But Roddy, curious, and desperately trying to find something else distracting other than thinking about being trapped, is immediately like LET ME HOLD and grabs the poor little thing. It yips at first and struggles- but Rodimus' warm frame seems to calm it. The poor little thing must be cold. It curls up whilst held against Roddy's chestplate and doesn't seem to plan to move.
The rest of Luna-1 happens and etc etc etc and they all eventually return to the ship... it's too bad they never found out what happened to Magnus, but the poor bot would be deactivated by now anyway according to Ratchet's predictions.
They've brought the tiny turbofox with them. It's not like they could just leave the thing behind... Rodimus, secretly pretty shaken up by the whole killswitch thing and once again failing his duties to protect his crew, unable to even keep track of one DYING second in command, keeps the little guy with him. The turbofox isn't the friendliest creature, but it seems content enough to be carried around by Rodimus for his warmth. And Rodimus feels a little better with some company and a little creature to hold.
Rodimus brings that thing everywhere. He starts calling it Roddy Jr. and everyone hates the name lmao. He brings it to all his appointments with Rung, holding it close and petting it to ease his nerves.
As the turbofox gets more comfortable on the ship, they start to find that it's still not particularly friendly. It doesn't like to be petted or cooed at or held by most other bots, but it will also never snarl or growl. It will glare and swat at servos that get too close, or even just duck under them, but never bare its sharp denta. Rodimus seems to be the only one with a free pass to hold the thing everywhere. Even so, sometimes it complains and struggles, but eventually lets Roddy carry it.
It's only much later when Ratchet, finally less busy with all the mechs' repairs, insists that Rodimus brings his pet in for a routine checkup too. They've never had a chance to properly check the thing since they found it and who knows what diseases it could be carrying. (Roddy is like hey >:[ at this btw)
But when Ratchet finally gets a good look at the thing... he has some uncomfortable suspicions. Being the only one to have ever seen Minimus' true form, this turbofox looks strangely familiar. And once he finds that it has a tcog, things really seem suspicious. But, as far as he knows, it's never behaved like Magnus or responded to anything that would make them think it was him. Ratchet tries calling it Ultra Magnus, but the turbofox just looks at him quietly. It's strangely polite and docile for a turbofox, just sitting there and letting Ratchet work on it. Something isn't right with this thing, but he doesn't know what.
Ratchet starts asking Rodimus some leading questions about this... but Rodimus just gets really defensive about anything asked about his new little pet. No! How could his little guy be another mech. So what if it has a tcog maybe some mechanimals have cogs. Whatever.
If Ratchet's suspicions are right, he's going to need Chromedome to have a look too. But it doesn't look like Rodimus is going to even entertain that as a suggestion
Rodimus is so desperate to keep this thing with him, to have some company, some kind of comfort, something on this ship that doesn't hate him, that he's not willing to entertain a single suspicious thought about his pet. He's not losing his only companion.
oh yes yes yes that's so fucking good. Rodimus' emotional support turbofox... he refuses to let anyone near it, and honestly, people are a little worried about the blow that taking his new pet could deal to Rodimus' mental health.... no one can help Minimus it seems...
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cheemscakecat · 21 hours ago
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A slight opportunity missed.
So, there’s not a whole lot that I’d change about Hank and Connor’s storyline in Detroit Become Human, but that being said.
The story takes place in 2038, and Hank is a Millennial.
Millennials don’t have that Gen Z knowledge of new technology, but they do have a pretty decent understanding of it and some have healthy skepticism. They aren’t like Boomers, who struggle to adjust to using new tech and fall for more scams. Like AI generated photos and scam emails.
There are Millennial parents that buy IPads for their literal infants and let them get brain rotted, but Hank doesn’t strike me as the type to do that.
I think there’s a missed opportunity to make Lieutenant Anderson the type of Millennial who doesn’t blindly trust new products in tech. He’s like the sensible Millennial who thinks linking your house up to an Alexa to control the lights, appliances, and doors, is dystopian. Literally does not see a point in doing all that.
Bro probably took one look at the Metaverse trailer, knew it was gonna be dog water, and laughed at its failure. Hank probably used to mess with phone scammers like this Officer:
youtube
Another change I talked about previously is having Conner be in use before the first deviant case, helping with unrelated cases. That way it feels like the Police have a reason to trust Conner enough to include him in the Cyberlife related cases. It’s highly suspicious for them to insert a police Android during an investigation that could make or break their company.
I would write Hank as still having reservations about using Connor, since he’s skeptical of Cyberlife’s intentions. He thinks Cyberlife is using this walking, talking recording device to mine information from the Police department [Which is true].
You know that scene where Connor scans Anderson’s desk to figure out his interests and break the ice? That would literally just make Hank feel like he’s right about the data mining. I’d have him sit down, not stoked about the android but resigned to deal with it, then get progressively more frustrated by Connor’s attempts to act friendly.
Then Hank stomps to the chief’s office and starts refusing to work with the android. Only to be told he has no choice. Lieutenant Anderson disliking Connor, not just because of what happened to Cole, but because he’s smart enough to think Cyberlife is using him as spyware, would be an interesting factor in their relationship.
I think the turning point where you can actually befriend Hank would be when you show up at his house and sober him up. Because a regular machine would probably just stand in one spot and call an ambulance. But Connor very stubbornly moves Anderson to his bathroom and starts briefing him on the mission once he’s sober.
One would assume this android is programmed to wait for an ambulance and confirmation that Hank’s okay, then request a different human cop to help with the investigation that night. But Connor’s actions are much more human and “illogical” than that.
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He’s impatient and stubborn, two traits that Cyberlife androids aren’t programmed with. Maybe the Traci Models, but 9 times out of 10, impatient and stubborn androids are bad for business. Any adult should know that, Hank included.
The meaner interrogation could have been written off as Cyberlife programming a bunch of dialogue into Connor based on cases and movie scenes. That was at work, and for all Anderson knows, Connor was always programmed to be able to intimidate criminals. But it’s a lot harder to write off an Android dragging you to the bathtub and refusing to take no for an answer about investigating that night.
That’s human. Illogical, stubborn, overstepping his bounds… and human. Leaving the car at the murder scene, despite being commanded to stay, could have been written off as Connor’s spyware programming too. Not attitude or impatience. But in retrospect, it would make sense as part of his personality too.
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the-perverse-library · 2 days ago
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Ruby was certainly getting attention now that she had large tits, thick thighs, and a bouncy ass. All of team RWBY had bodies of bimbos now, something that Ruby's teammates were suspicious about. Ruby lied that it was due to some special cookies, but she wanted to keep the boombox a secret.
Ruby was flaunting and showing off her new assets so much that even Jaune was mesmerized, and Weiss was not happy about that. When she investigated her roommate's belongings she would find the boombox, only to be blindsided by large fat cheeks. Ruby had Weiss pinned down face down and ass up, their round bouncy cheeks pressed together.
"Sorry Weiss, but I can't have you stealing my boombox~"
"Yours?! Ugh! I knew you cheated to get so big! Stay away from Jaune!"
"I will, if you can beat me~"
Weiss was confused before Ruby would channel her aura to the boombox, the base kicking as the words played. Ruby was already dancing, possibly getting bigger and Weiss had no choice but to do battle with their fat asses. Cheeks will ripple, clap, crash and shake the foundation for who is the ultimate booty queen!
baby work baby twerk baby rock baby drop baby work baby twerk
you wiggle wop
baby drop baby work baby twerk baby rock baby drop
baby lemme see you wop
The dorm shook from the boombox's bass, and the thunderous clashes of Ruby and Weiss's fat asses hammered into one another. The music filled their bodies and minds as both Huntresses wanted to prove that they were the better bimbo and worthy of Jaune and his attention. They quickly began to outgrow their clothes as the boombox's power once more affected them both.
baby work baby twerk baby rock baby drop baby work baby twerk
"G-give up! D-daddy belongs to me!" Weiss squealed as she thundered her ass down onto Ruby, trying to use her stronger leg muscles and gargantuan ass to force Ruby onto her knees. "Daddy only needs one princess, and that's me!"
"N~not fair!!! Jaune was my bestie first, so we should be a couple!" Ruby argued back as she felt her body eagerly swell to try and match Weiss's obscene bimbo curves. "Y-you didn't even like him when you two met!"
you wiggle wop
Those words only seemed to incense Weiss as she planted her hands onto her knees and tried to bury Ruby beneath her ass as the residual dust in her body responded to her new growth. "You had your chance, and you wasted it! D-daddy is mine! MINE!!!" Just as she was about to win, Ruby pushed against her, causing her to stumble forward onto her knees.
"I will be the booty queen of this team and be Jaune's girlfriend!!!" Ruby shouted as she used her Semblance to keep Weiss beneath her as her ass grew rapidly. All sense of decency was gone from the reaper as her mind kept replaying the moment they caught Jaune and Pyrrha "training" Weiss, and how much she wanted to be in Weiss' place.
baby drop baby work baby twerk baby rock baby drop
baby lemme see you wop
The boombox wound down as the song finished, and the two Huntresses had become perfect mirrors of one another. All around them were the tattered remains of their clothes as they stared at one another, taking in their round, heavy tits, supple bellies, thick thighs, and unbelievably massive asses. Neither one wanted to back down, and a victor hadn't been decided, so that meant they'd have to have another dance-off. But before either of them could reach the boombox, a voice called out to them.
"Would you look at that? Our Angel went and made a friend." Jaune chuckled as he entered the dorm room, followed by Pyrrha.
"Indeed she did," Pyrrha nodded as she looked at Ruby with the eyes of a hungry wolf eyeing a lone, defenceless sheep.
"M-Mommy, Daddy." Weiss whimpered as she felt Jaune wrap his hands around her, squeezing her new tits gently as he groped at her ass. "I-I did exactly as you said! I-I stole the boombox from Goodwitch, and I made Ruby big, c-can I cum now? p-please!" She looked into Jaune's smouldering eyes as she felt his fingers slip from her nipples to her pussy, and felt him pinch her clit between his fingers and release a surge of aura. Weiss' world went white as she came. For the first time since being discovered by her team, Daddy had finally let her cum.
"Don't you want to feel like that?" Ruby heard Pyrrha whisper in her ear as she watched Weiss go limp in Jaune's arms as she gushed and squirted like crazy. "To able to feel a pleasure so intense that you just lose all control? Well, if you do, come to the gymnasium after dark with Weiss." Pyrrha kissed Ruby on the neck before spanking the reaper on the ass. "Jaune is more than enough to handle the two of you; come down to the gymnasium after dark, and we'll train you just as long and as hard as our Angel."
Ruby couldn't find her voice as her body felt like it was buzzing with pleasure, so she quickly nodded, earning herself another spank across her massive ass.
"Use your words, Cookie, want do you want from Mommy and Daddy?" Pyrrha pressed as she slipped two of her fingers into Ruby's pussy. "What is it you want from us?"
Ruby clung to Pyrrha as the Unbreakable Warrior turned her mind to mush. "I-I..." Ruby started, her voice uneven. "I want Mommy and Daddy to treat me like they treat Weiss!" Ruby screamed as she came all over Pyrrha's fingers.
"Then we'll see you tonight." Pyrrha cooed as she brought her hand up to Ruby's face and made the reaper suck her own juices off of Pyrrha's fingers.
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songbird-and-her-fos · 2 days ago
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My anxiety has been acting up today so here is Emmrich taking care of Rook when being the hero starts wearing them down.
The Weight of the World
Emmrich/NB!Rook
Rook is only mortal, and the weight of the world resting on their shoulders takes its toll, no matter how hard they try to hide it.
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Evening fell over Thedas, at least as far as the inhabitants of the Lighthouse would be able to tell, and Emmrich had noticed Rook being suspiciously absent during the day. They never missed meals, or training, or the book club otherwise, so it was even more noticable, like there was a big, Rook-shaped hole whenever everyone got together. Even during days where they needed some solitude to recharge, they usually sought out Emmrich at least *once*.
He found his suspicion confirmed when Manfred came clattering into the room, looking as alarmed as someone without facial muscles could. “Rook. Not well.”
There was no answer when Emmrich knocked on the door to Rook’s room.
“Darling? Is everything alright?” Again, no reply.
He slowly pushed down the doorhandle and entered, finding Rook on the chaise they usually slept on, bundled up in several blankets. It took a moment for Emmrich to realize that they were doing the breathing exercises usually taught to young necromancers, to help the mind settle. Only that Rook didn’t look settled in the least; their face was ashen, with bloodshot, glossy eyes staring at nothing in particular.
Emmrich closed the door behind him and approached Rook. “Dearest?”
Rook flinched out of their exercise, and their eyes focused on him. “E-Emmrich. Did you knock? I didn’t hear you. Sorry, I’m a bit of a mess at the moment-” They were speaking so fast that they were stumbling over their words.
“Rook”, Emmrich said, voice firmer now. “Breathe.”
Their shoulders tensed. “I tried. It didn’t help. I’m not usually like this, I’ve never-” They gripped the blankets to pull them tighter around themself, and Emmrich noticed how badly their hands were shaking.
It was a woefully familiar state to Emmrich; ice-cold, unsoothable fear. He sat next to them, disentangling one of their hands from the fabric so he could hold it between his. It was cold and clammy with sweat, and shivering even now. “Tell me what happened, darling.”
“Nothing happened. It came out of nowhere last night, like I just now realized what’s happening and what could happen if I don’t do everything right. All of the ways everything could go wrong.”
Woefully familiar indeed.
“Is this why you have been hiding in here all day?”
Rook slumped against him, as if all the tension had suddenly left their body, leaving only a boneless pile of misery. “I can’t let the others see me like this. They trust me, they have to. And how could they if they saw me right now?”
“I don’t think they would judge you. I know I don’t.” His thumb stroked the back of their hand. “Just like you have never judged any of us for our troubles.” But as he spoke, Emmrich actually considered his words. Yes, none of their companions would judge Rook. But none of them had ever asked about their wellbeing, either, and to his shame, he had to include himself in that. And he also knew that no amount of talking or rationalising could drive away the terror Rook was feeling at the moment.
“Tell me that everything’s going to be okay”, Rook muttered. “Even if it’s a lie. Just tell me-”
“There is no guarantee for that”, he responded gently, wrapping one arm around their shoulders and pulling them close. “But everyone knows how hard you work. If things go wrong, it won’t be a failing on your part.”
Rook smiled shakily. “Somehow, that helps to know. Thank you.” A short moment of silence followed, before Rook spoke again:”Can you stay with me tonight?”
Emmrich pulled them closer, turning his torso so he could embrace them with both arms. “I wouldn’t dream of leaving you alone in this state, darling.”
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bhaalble · 2 days ago
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MASSIVE VEILGUARD SPOILERS ENDGAME SPOILERS
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really do want to like the Varric twist I think giving Rook an unconfronted regret in that moment is worthwhile and interesting and a good way to distinguish them from Solas (acceptance vs reliving). I also think its such an intensely personal betrayal by Solas in a way that can fuel a lot of interesting character decisions. I just really think the whole thing is stronger if the ENTIRE TEAM is under the impression he's alive. The Lighthouse is Solas' backyard, weaving that kind of illusion is absolutely within his powers. It removes the problem of everyone acting like a goddamn alien about it and also makes for some much more juicy interpersonal drama when you get back, as the entire team has to have it sink in all at once that they've been caught in a lie this whole time. I also think it could lead to some interesting ongoing threads with Neve and Harding. Harding would be doubling down on her protectiveness of Varric in the wake of a failure to protect him from Solas, not to mention likely confiding in him as (at least one of) the only other dwarf on base about her experiences with the Titans. In contrast, Neve is suspicious immediately, but playing her cards close to her chest. If Solas IS casting an illusion then who's to say if anything around the Lighthouse is real? Rook can notice her insisting on staging most important conversations away from the Lighthouse and locking off from Varric, resulting in possible interpersonal tension if Rook interprets her as resenting him for dragging her in here, or an alternative means of figuring this out through careful conversational management. I think there was a lot left on the table for this one idk!!!
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lavenderchqn · 3 days ago
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𝐶𝛨𝛢𝑃𝑇𝛦𝑅 𝟎𝟑𝟑 — SET IT OFF (3,5K WORDS) 𝑅𝐸𝐷 𝐿𝐼𝑁𝐸𝑆 — lyney x f!reader smau
𝑆𝑌𝑁𝑂𝑃𝑆𝐼𝑆 —
Second year of university should've been everything you thought of it - more studying with human interaction sprinkled throught... What it definitely wasn't supposed to be was an investigation saga where one of your friends goes missing out of nowhere
𝑃𝑅𝐸𝑉𝐼𝑂𝑈𝑆 — 𝑀𝐴𝑆𝑇𝐸𝑅𝐿𝐼𝑆𝑇 — 𝑁𝐸𝑋𝑇 𝐸𝑃𝐼𝑆𝑂𝐷𝐸
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As the meeting approached, [Y/N]’s nerves became more evident. She was hunched over her laptop, polishing her slides for the presentation on their opponent. This wasn’t just a university project for credit — it’s serious. Her sleepless nights were etched into her appearance, with dark circles under her eyes and a tired, drooping gaze.
If you asked, [Y/N] would insist she’s fine, brushing off any mention of fatigue. In truth, burying herself in this project has been a way to block out her growing feelings for Lyney and keep Clorinde’s judgement at a safe distance from her thoughts. 
Over the past few days, she and Lyney had gathered a significant amount of information. Beyond the startling discovery of Marcel’s connection to the Dean of Arts and Humanities department, they’d uncovered another strange, yet valid for his character: he was an intense fan of Lolita. His Facebook page was littered with quotes from the novel — far too many for comfort, given the circumstances. 
In the end, one question continued to baffle her — figuring out his motive. If their timeline was correct, he had stopped pursuing Furina as soon as she left the theatre troupe, with no suspicious activity on his part until March of this year. 
[Y/N] muttered to herself, trying to make sense of it, her laptop balancing on her knees. The screen showed the slide on Marcel’s background: a graduate of their university who had majored in performance arts but never made it big. By all appearances, it was likely the dean who had handed him the assistant position — a clear case of nepotism, or something close to it. 
“And who do we have here, hmm?” Lyney’s voice came from behind [Y/N], making her jump out of her skin. In her startled attempt to back away, she nearly sent her laptop flying. Luckily, Lyney was quick; with one hand, he steadied her, while his other caught her laptop just in time, saving her and her work from disaster. 
“Y-You—“ [Y/N] stammered, bending forward to catch her breath and regain her composure. Lyney’s hand remained around her waist, even as he leaned down to carefully place the laptop on the coffee table beside her former seat. It took her a while to settle down, her brain not letting go of thinking about his touch. 
Once the laptop was safely down, Lyney straightened up, his gaze teasing but warm. “Didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, though the mischievous glint in his eyes suggested otherwise. 
[Y/N] shot him a look, half-annoyed, half-flustered. “You did that on purpose.” 
“Who knows, maybe I did,” he admitted, a smirk on his lips. “But I couldn’t resist. You’ve been buried in this thing lately—  Was starting to think you’d forgotten all about me~” 
Lyney and his sly words. Her cheeks felt warmer, and she quickly looked away, focusing on the open laptop. “Hardly. I’m preparing… for the meeting, you know.” 
He chuckled softly, clearly enjoying her reaction. “Right, of course, the meeting.” Then, after a pause, his tone softened. “But really, don’t overwork yourself. I can help if you need it.” 
“Absolutely not, Lyney.” [Y/N] pouted, looking at him. “You were the one to collect information, it’s only fair I prepare the presentation, right.” 
Lyney raised an eyebrow, feigning offence. “Are you saying I wouldn’t make an impressive presenter?” 
[Y/N] rolled her eyes, stifling a grin. “I think you’d make too much of a spectacle of it. We’re trying to inform everyone about that dick, not put on a magic show. Besides your father is going to be there…” 
He placed a hand over his heart, pretending to be wounded by her words. “Ouch. But I suppose you’re right — I’d steal the show, no bet.” He gave a small, playful shrug before taking his hand off her waist and meeting her gaze. “Still, I’ll be there by your side. Give me the cue, and I’ll jump to your aid, like a knight on a horse in shining armour.” 
“Thanks, Lyney.” She murmured, her voice quieter than she’d intended. How could she not have fallen for a guy like him? Despite his teasing nature, he was always there to aid her whenever possible. Even when she hadn’t felt like doing anything or crying her eyes out at feeling useless. 
Heavens above, it was high time to regain her focus… the meeting was coming soon. 
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“The party has arrived!~” Furina sings, sweeping into the vacation house as Lyney holds the door open for her. Wriothesley and Neuvillette followed close behind, each wearing an expression of subtle relief — it was their first time seeing him since that fateful day. 
“Good to see the squad in one piece.” Lyney greets them with a small smile, though his eyes linger on Wriothesley and Neuvillette, sensing the weight of unspoken words. There is tension in the air, a mix of concern and gratitude, as if just seeing him there, welcoming them with his usual charm, is enough to ease some of their lingering worries. 
Furina, as oblivious as ever to the atmosphere, spins around the room, hands on her hips. “So, where’s your girl? Surely she hasn’t run off to do even more work?” 
Lyney chuckles, mentioning them towards the living room. “Not my girl, first of all— Second, she’s still wondering how to fix the tension between her, Clorinde and Charlotte…” 
“They still haven’t reconciled?” Neuvillette asks surprise in his tone. “From their dynamic, it would seem like they’d let go of their argument quite swiftly if I do say so myself.” 
Wriothesley meanwhile, rolls his eyes at Lyney’s words, though a smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. “Not your girl, ‘Mr. My body is telling me to make her feel better’. He teases. 
“Shut the fuck up, Wrio,” Lyney says as the faintest blush creeps up. He’s leading them to the living room, where everything for their meeting is already prepared — a projector, some snacks and a lot of sitting space. This room was often used as a gathering spot for the children to watch movies, whenever Father permitted them to use the house. 
“Oh, you’re early?” [Y/N]’s voice echoes as she enters the room, empty glasses in hand. “Weren’t we supposed to meet at 5?” She sets the glasses on the coffee table before looking at her phone. It reads as 4:45 pm. 
“Being fifteen minutes early is the standard, darling.” Furina comes up, raising her hands to hug her as a welcome gesture. “Glad to see you’re all right.” 
“Likewise,” The girls give each other a warm, but short, hug as [Y/N] greets Wriothesley and Neuvillette, who are standing next to Lyney. “Nice to see you too, guys.” 
“Good afternoon to you too, Ms. [Y/N].” 
“We’re still waiting on the girls… as well as Father,” Lyney says, sharing a gaze with [Y/N]. “Make yourselves at home, sillies. I’ll help [Y/N] with the last things, all right?” 
“Alrighty~” 
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A knock on the door brings the chatter between [Y/N] and the Beverage Gang to an abrupt halt. They exchanged glances, knowing exactly who it was. Just moments earlier, as they’d finished setting up the table Lyney had received a message from The Knave. She was informing him she’d be arriving late due to a traffic jam on the highway.
“Guess they finally made it,” Wriothesley mutters, adjusting his jacket, while Neuvillette offers a small nod.
Lyney gives [Y/N] a reassuring look before moving toward the door. “Time to make them feel welcome,” He says, his tone lighthearted, with a flicker of nervousness in his eyes. As much as he plays it off, he knows the meeting can bring a fair share of tension — between the subject of the meeting as well as Clorinde’s presence… with her recent conflict with [Y/N]
With a quick breath, he opens the door, revealing Navia, Clorinde and Charlotte standing just outside. Navia smiles cheerfully, giving Lyney a brief nod as she steps inside, Clorinde follows behind with her usual stoic expression, and Charlotte brings up the rear with a friendly wave. 
“Glad to see everyone’s made it safe and sound!” The blonde announced, beaming as she headed straight for the living room. She greets each person with her characteristic enthusiasm, stopping by [Y/N] to share a warm side hug. “Ah, it’s good to see you, [Y/N].”
The girl returned the hug, a small smile breaking through. “You too, Nav, you too.” 
As Navia settles in beside her, Lyney joins them, casting a glance in Clorinde’s direction. Her expression is unreadable, although, he can notice a glint of sadness in her eyes. He wishes inside that Clorinde and Charlotte are here to make amends with [Y/N]. 
After a moment of quiet, Navia clears her throat, breaking the silence. “Well, are we good to start the meeting now?” She glances around the room, her gaze lingering on each person, a gentle reminder of the unity they need tonight. 
“Lyney,” Furina turns to him. “We’re still waiting for The Knave… right?” 
“Yep, that’s right,” He stands up, moving closer towards where [Y/N]’s laptop is — connected to their projector. “She knows what [Y/N]’s gonna talk about soo… we can start without her.” 
Charlotte nods, leaning back slightly in her seat. “All right then, let’s get started.” 
The group eyes the projector screen with interest as Lyney connects everything, casting [Y/N] an encouraging look. “The floor is yours,” he says, giving her a reassuring smile. He can feel the slight glances of his friends eyeing his every move — trying to find proof of him crushing on [Y/N] and so on. 
“Actually,” Clorinde speaks up, eyes dead straight on [Y/N]. “Could I ask what you’re going to be talking about? As far as I’m aware Wriothesley had conclusions regarding the location.” 
Oh. That’s right. Neither she nor Lyney have ever mentioned they had figured out who the kidnapper is. Well, The Knave had been made aware… but nobody else. 
“What else would there to be talking about?” Clorinde enquires, the sheer coldness in her voice noticeable to everyone present. “We do not know who the kidnapper is.” 
“Who says we don’t?” [Y/N] strikes back, her answer sending the room into silence. 
Clorinde’s eyes narrow, and a flicker of surprise flashes across Wriothesley’s face as he exchanges a glance with Neuvillette. The weight of [Y/N]’s words hangs heavy in the hair, thickening the silence which follows. 
Furina leans forward, eyes wide with intrigue. “Wait… you mean to say—“
“Yes,” [Y/N] interrupts, steady and resolute. “We know who the kidnapper is. And the presentation has all the evidence to support our guess.” 
Lyney steps closer to her, arms crossed but supportive, his gaze shifting to Clorinde. “We’ve been holding back certain information… for mental health reasons.” He knows he’s being passive-aggressive, but there’s something so correct after everything [Y/N] had to go through. 
“Mental health reasons?” Neuvillette questions. “I’m aware this matter is quite crucial for the two of you, but others?” 
“Well,” [Y/N] sighs, turning her eyes back to the projector. “How about you see? And then ask questions.” 
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“Without much introduction,” [Y/N] resumed. “Here’s the person behind all the kidnappings.” 
“Furina,” Lyney perks up, getting her attention. “Close your eyes, just in case.”
Furina’s curiosity piques at his suggestion, and her expression shifts between intrigue and unease. She hesitates, not quite ready to see her tormentor of the previous year. She finally closes her eyes, murmuring, “Fine, fine, just tell me when it’s safe.” 
The second slide pops up. With an image of Marcel Dubois right and centre. It’s him — Furina’s stalker. The group’s attention turned black to the screen, where his image — cold, calculated, and all too familiar to those who knew him from university… or from dealing with the theatre troupe’s management. Silence washes over the room as each person processes what this means.
“That fucking guy?” Wriothesley stands up, flabbergasted. “He’s the one who not only kidnapped the girls… but also threatened Furina a fucking year ago?” 
[Y/N] nods, her voice steady as she continues, “He’s a former student, a performance arts major. And well… the manager of the theatre troupe. That’s how he managed to get close to three of his victims… as for Lynette…” 
“She’s the outlier.”
“Precisely.” 
“Is he the… son of the dean?” 
“Yes.” [Y/N] gave everyone a grim nod. “He’s the son of the Dean of Arts and Humanities. His influence and connections within the university must’ve kept Marcel protected. Can’t be caught, if you don’t start an actual investigation, am I right?” 
Lyney clicked to the next slide, which outlined their evidence, including patterns of his movement and his online prescience — posts and quotes from Lolita that had, in retrospect, revealed more than anyone realised. 
“While I can’t still figure out why he had committed those crimes…” [Y/N] continued. “Lynette is most likely a singular ‘deviation’. It could be him using her to not only taunt us but to show he can be unpredictable.” 
“A desire for power is a simple enough explanation, Miss [Y/N].” A deep voice says, getting louder as the person enters from their previous spot, back in the darkness of the unlit room. “I commend you for your findings.” 
“Madame… Knave?” [Y/N] murmurs, eyes widening as the woman steps into the light. Her imposing presence seems to command the room, just as it did back when they had first met. Beside her stands a tall figure, whose sharp gaze and police badge immediately signal their purpose. 
The Knave’s eyes sweep over the room, lingering slightly as they pass her protégé before she gives a polite nod. “Good evening, everyone. I apologise for my late arrival, yet it seems I came just in time.” Her voice is smooth, yet steely, carrying a weight that silences any lingering doubt in the air. 
The officer beside her adjusts his badge. “I have been briefed on the situation,” he says, looking directly and [Y/N] and Lyney. “Thanks to your compiled evidence, and some swift verification, it is enough to warrant immediate investigation. We have gathered court permission to enter his house tomorrow at the earliest.” 
Charlotte lets out a small light, crossing her arms. “It’s actually happening. We’re finally going to rescue the victims.”
Knave meets her gaze with a small nod. “That would be correct, Ms. Charlotte. With your combined efforts, we now have the leverage to proceed cautiously but decisively.” She looks again to [Y/N]. “The presentation was thorough. The shadows you were once treading are no more — this is concrete evidence.” 
[Y/N] feels a surge of relief mixed with apprehension. This was it. After all the sleepless nights, carefully digging and gathering information, they had finally brought Marcel into the light. But as she looked around, she could see similar apprehension in the eyes of her friends.
“So… what happens next?” Furina asks softly, her trembling voice breaking the silence. While she didn’t look at the slides directly, the conversation between her friends told her directly who was behind everything. It’s maddening… how sick in the head Marcel truly is. 
“It all depends on how long it takes to find out the place where the kidnapped women are.” The officer looks at each of them in turn. “But rest assured, his days of preying on anyone are over.” 
“Except,” Wriothesley interrupts. “We are aware of where they are, as well as crucial information about said location.” 
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Wriothesley’s presentation is much shorter. Over the past few days, he had managed to pinpoint all points of entry as well as note all camera locations — the latter done before the knowledge of having a court order. Surprisingly, the vacation house near Mary-Ann’s National Park is nowhere near as small as they predicted initially. Not to mention it having been built on top of unsuitable ground after all the chaos that had transpired years before. 
The officer nods, studying the images. “This does shorten our work. With the knowledge of the building, we can orchestrate an operation that avoids detection. We shall be coordinating with local authorities tonight. The plan is to have a surveillance team in place early tomorrow morning, with the tactical team ready to move as soon as we confirm the victim’s presence.” 
“Be sure,” Clorinde perks up. “To have a medical staff available. Heavens know what situation some of the victims are.” 
“But of course.” 
After this confirmation, the Knave and the officer bid the group farewell. It’s a long night ahead for everybody involved, and starting as soon as possible is highly appreciated. 
Furina, still shaken, looks to [Y/N] and Lyney with a spark of courage in her eyes. “Thank you,” she whispers, her voice laced with gratitude. “For piecing this all together. For saving Lynette and everyone else. I… I know I should have said this sooner.” 
[Y/N] gives her a soft smile, squeezing her friend’s hand. “We all worked together. It wouldn’t have been possible without everyone’s support.” 
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“[Y/N],” Clorinde says, walking up to the girl with Charlotte by her side. “Would you spare us a minute?” The girl in question is chatting with Navia, both excited to hopefully see Lynette as soon as tomorrow. 
Out of nowhere, the tension, which has felt light ever since the departure of the Knave and accompanying police officer, is heavy once more. This simple interaction brings not only the girls to a stop… but also the Beverage Gang members. 
“Of course.” [Y/N] glances a Navia, who offers a supportive nod, before she turns to face Clorinde and Charlotte. She feels a knot in her stomach, a stark contrast to the relief she had felt moments ago.
Charlotte’s expression is gentle, almost apologetic, while Clorinde maintains her usual composed demeanour, though there’s an unspoken weight in her gaze. “I owe you an apology,” She begins, her voice steady but softer than usual. “For how I treated you… and for not taking your feelings into account.” 
Charlotte steps forward, her face sincere. “Even though your methods have been quite radical… You’ve done so much, for all of us. I’m sorry, for petitioning to exclude you too…” 
[Y/N] stands there, momentarily taken aback, a rush of emotions flashing through her. She takes a breath, feeling the tension finally start to loosen. “Thank you,” she says quietly, her voice warm. “It means a lot, truly.” 
Clorinde nods, a hint of relief crossing her face. “I hope we can move forward, together.” 
Before she can respond, Lyney’s hand settles reassuringly on her shoulder, grounding her. “Well…” His tone is uncertain. “You did put this lovely lady into quite a lot of distress. Not to mention, you tried to exclude me too?” 
Clorinde stiffens slightly, her gaze flicking to Lyney, who's watching her with a raised brow and a smirk that doesn’t hide his protective stance beside [Y/N].
“Yes, Lyney,” she says, a slight sigh escaping her, “We did exclude you both. And yet, perhaps you were right to push ahead without waiting for us. Your determination has shown us what we couldn’t see in our hesitation.” She looks directly at [Y/N]. “While I cannot support your means of gathering evidence, you have been braver than I gave you credit for.” 
Charlotte chimes in, her tone soothing. “Like, I’m not gonna say I’m better than you… But those were some really dangerous methods, you both. Sorry, again.” 
Lyney’s expression softens as he looks at the two, his smirk fading to something more genuine. “Apology accepted,” he says with a nod, squeezing [Y/N]’s shoulder once more and pointing at her with his other hand. “This girl has done so fucking much over the past few weeks, I’d be an idiot not to trust her, you know.” 
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In the dimly lit interior of Neuvillette’s car with Wriothesley behind the wheel, Furina reclines in her back seat, arms crossed as she remarks on that scene on their way back. Her teasing smirk is in place as she raises a brow at Wriothesley, who is focused on the road, but sneaks a quick amused glance her way. “He definitely has a crush on her.” 
“Lyney has always been a charmer,” Wriothesley remarks, amusement in his voice. “But I’ll admit, he usually plays it a bit cooler. He’s thrown in his lot with her.” 
Furina taps a finger against her chin thoughtfully. “It’s really sweet, the way he rushed in like that. He’s more protective than I had expected.” 
“Well,” Neuvillette interrupts. “I think it’s quite expected of Lyney.” 
Furina turns her attention to Neuvillette, sitting beside her. “Oh? Do tell, Neuvi. You think Lyney’s… predictable?” 
Neuvillette clears his throat, shaking his head. “Not predictable. Just… earnest. Lyney cares deeply for those he considers important, us included. When he decides someone’s worth his trust, he’ll stand by them without hesitation.” 
Furina leans back, clearly intrigued. “I know, I know, silly~ Our magician is an open book when you think about it long enough.” She chuckles, but her tone is more appreciative than mocking. 
“Then why ask the question?” 
“Ugh… annoying. For the plot, perhaps?” 
Wriothesley chuckles, nodding to the road ahead. “Let’s leave the theatrics to you and Lyney. But I have to say, I’m curious how this ‘plot’ of theirs unfolds.” 
Tomorrow will bring the final act of their hard work — a risky rescue, with everything on the line. But tonight, they can finally take a breath, together.
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𝑇𝐴𝐺𝐿𝐼𝑆𝑇 — CLOSED
@state-of-grac3 @santaluna @meigalaxy @romyoia
@meurtreofcrows @charles-braindump @floweringanna @moonjellyfishie @vavrin @lovelypadisarah @dearanemo
@dearanemo @ladylee
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date of posting — november 20th 2024
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chaosinplural · 10 months ago
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Charlie using Alastor's mic staff thingy
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