#in my head it's like an infinite spiral. does that make sense? oh that's kind of interesting to think about

[ghostlyenola]

I'm not sure. While I do believe that Lu Guang was the person who was actually in control the first time, what's holding me back from believing this save point theory is whether or not they're able to dive into a photo when they're already in a photo Because Lu Guang is currently in one, right? Technically, this entire show is one, whole dive from lg's timeline. So wouldn't it be impossible to dive into a photo in an already active dive because that would only bring him back to his original timeline? It'd be interesting if he could, but if so, that would mean he could take as many pictures as he wants as save points so he would have endless chances to save cxs. But he says this is his last chance, so the ability does not allow that.

This is just a thought. But to be honest, I can't think of another purpose for the picture, other than using it to see 12 hours into the future.

alright everybody, it's time we talked about Hostage. (buckle up because this is going to be long, but it'll be worth it)

season 2 episode 8 of Link Click was one of the most confounding episodes in the entire season while airing. starting with Lu Guang's insane boat crash/martial arts smackdown rescue of Cheng Xiaoshi and ending with Cheng Xiaoshi diving into a photo to possess Lu Guang to get answers for his actions, from start to finish it was a wild ass ride where we, the fandom, AND the characters spent the whole time questioning Lu Guang and his motives

and...puzzlingly... didn't really get an answers by the end of the season

Lu Guang wasn't granted any post-climax time to explain what happened that day from his perspective, and while Cheng Xiaoshi was possessing him he didn't get any answers because he literally WAS Lu Guang, just doing whatever the hell he thought he needed to do.

the thing about Hostage that has always felt extremely off to me, is that we DO get explanations for Lu Guang's actions during the episode, but they're from people wholly unqualified to be giving them.

Captain Xiao finds Lu Guang's phone, hidden in a folded towel, and concludes that Lu Guang had left them clues. Qiao Ling, after seeing that Lu Guang had taken a photo that night, came to the conclusion that Cheng Xiaoshi must have been the one possessing Lu Guang during his deranged rescue plan at the pier, seeing as Lu Guang wasn't an adept fighter at the dojo and he was acting extremely impulsive. She even goes so far to say, later in the episode, that Cheng Xiaoshi HAS to dive into the photo, because it's already happened, and needs to follow Lu Guang's words to not change the timeline.

all of these assumptions, to me, are horseshit

I refuse to listen to ANYTHING Captain Xiao says. one, because he simply does not know these kids and should not be making assumptions about them, and two he is in fact the worst cop in the world. and Qiao Ling, bless her heart, has only found out how their powers work mere DAYS ago and doesn't understand the nuances of them at all

so I'm gonna debunk all that nonsense and explain to you what Lu Guang's REAL actions were that night, and what was up with that cryptic photo he took

now you might be thinking, Kelly, you're not even starting in the right place, because those weren't Lu Guang's actions, they were always Cheng Xiaoshi's, just in Lu Guang's body!

FALSE. on two counts! we have evidence of Lu Guang and Cheng Xiaoshi performing the act of escaping the hospital differently. Lu Guang does not use the kettle to break the window to distract the cops. we're not sure what he uses, but that kettle is still there.

Lu Guang also places his phone face down in the towel

while Cheng Xiaoshi places it faceup

so by the end of the episode we have literal, physical evidence that these two performed this timeline differently, and therefore it was not "Cheng Xiaoshi the whole time" like Qiao Ling tried to misinform us to believe. i also have another Big Brain post [x] that explains why Lu Guang being an impulsive, supposedly "good" fighter during that pier rescue scene are both in-character for him.

(and if we wanna get really nitpicky about how an injured Lu Guang could have raced across town in his condition, i simply believe that Lu Guang was smarter about it that Cheng Xiaoshi, and probably took a bus or cab. Cheng Xiaoshi, pure of heart and dumb of ass, ran because HE physically could while inhabiting Lu Guang's body. our injured catboy did not sprint across town while holding his organs in place)

so if we already have all this cold, hard evidence stating that Lu Guang really is THAT bitch and did all that shit on his own, what the hell is my problem? why can I not let this episode go?

BECAUSE I WANNA KNOW WHY LU GUANG TOOK THAT PHOTO

Captain Useless seems to think that Lu Guang took that photo as some sort of helpful clue left behind for the gang

but what, pray tell, was this photo supposed to tell us without someone with Lu Guang's powers there to interpret it? without Lu Guang to tell him what to do, Cheng Xiaoshi left to his own devices knows just as much as himself as he does possessing Lu Guang

and, the bigger question, is if this was supposed to be some sort of almighty clue for the gang, why did he not text this photo to either Qiao Ling or Cheng Xiaoshi before escaping the hospital? he took the time to text Qiao Ling the location of the boat, did he not? why not the photo too? seems like a crappy way to clue someone in, to take a photo and save it on your password protected phone that you just went out of your way to hide from plain sight

because that's the thing! after the season finale we discover that Lu Guang's password is literally a reminder of his dive, or even more specifically, a reminder of his trauma. we KNOW that he didn't share his password with Cheng Xiaoshi, he just just happened to figure it out on his own

so tell me how Lu Guang expected this trauma-password protected phone, with it's one singular picture, to get in the hands of Cheng Xiaoshi, hmm? riddle me THAT

so we've established by now that 1. Lu Guang's actions in the beginning of episode 8 were indeed his own and 2. that photo was never meant to be seen by Cheng Xiaoshi, who shouldn't have known Lu Guang's passcode

given the trauma-passcode, we have to believe that the only person ever meant to see this photo was Lu Guang. i've made ANOTHER post previously [x] stating that Lu Guang might have used his powers in a way we haven't known possible, by taking a photo and using his Blue Eyes White Dragon powers to see 12 hours into the immediate future

plausible, but not what i'm about to propose now.

because I think Lu Guang took that photo as a contingency plan

listen, the only person who had ANY credentials to theorize what Lu Guang was up to that night was his trusted partner. while Qiao Ling and Captain Xiao spouted their nonsense theories, Cheng Xiaoshi said the only smart thing that entire brainstorming session

and I think Cheng Xiaoshi was right. he wasn't wrong in assuming this photo was a Save Point of sorts, the only thing he was wrong about was who would be using it

the only other person in this show capable of diving into a photo, we find out during the finale, is Lu Guang

we also find out in the finale that powers are transferrable, and it looks like they transfer when the owner of that power dies in someone else's arms

Lu Guang took that photo that night NOT for Cheng Xiaoshi to find and use, but for LU GUANG himself to use. i believe Lu Guang firmly believed that Cheng Xiaoshi was to die that night, and he would do everything in his power to make sure he had a chance to change it again if he needed to.

that meant:

1.taking a photo on his phone as a Save Point.

2. hiding his phone in the hospital bathroom so it could not be taken from him or busted later in the night. and

3. racing to where he knew Cheng Xiaoshi would be, so he could either

4. a.) rescue him, or b.) ensure that during CXS's death, the diving power was transferred back to him so he could do the night over again.

Lu Guang took that photo as contingency plan to save Cheng Xiaoshi's life should he get killed that night.

but that plan was botched when Cheng Xiaoshi used it instead to possess Lu Guang, because each photo can only be used once.

which might also explain why Lu Guang was SO DISTRAUGHT when Cheng Xiaoshi was shot

they had deleted all their photos earlier that week to prevent the twins from possessing them remotely

that was the last photo Lu Guang had taken. the ONLY photo on his phone. if Cheng Xiaoshi died that night, there would have been no Save Point to return to

[nehswritesstuffs]

fly little seagull, you’re too far from the nest - Part 3 of 3

So, this chapter spiraled out of control and is at 10,701 words, which brings the total for this alternate chapter to 24,857. If you replace the regular third chapter with this, it brings the story up to roughly 66.5k words, which is fairly impressive if you ask me.

Original Story  - Part 1 (FFN/AO3)  - Part 2 (FFN/AO3)

It’s always been about revenge, only now it’s also over the future herself. [AU where Law does for a child what Cora-san did for him and lives to tell the tale]

Nauja held on tight as the Linear Fox bus scampered quickly through the underground tunnel back to Dressrosa. Usopp and Robin got their own foxes to ride, and although she could have ridden with one of them, they all played it safe and had saddled up a third fox.

‘I wonder what’s going on with Law-san,’ she wondered to herself. She didn’t like the fact that he had sent her away almost soon as they were together again, but knew that if he was going to defeat Uncle Doffy…

“Are you alright, Nauja-chan?” Robin asked. Nauja’s fox jumped over a root and the girl gasped.

“Yeah, I think so,” she said shakily. She squeaked as the foxes came to a stop, with Nauja losing her grip and tumbling over the front of her ride. Hands sprouted from the ground and cushioned her fall. “Oh! A Devil Fruit!”

“That was close,” Robin chuckled. She and Usopp both dismounted their fox-buses and the Tontattas began to tie up their own mounts. “I don’t think Torao-kun would like it if we returned you with a bunch of scratches.”

“To-ra-o?” Nauja tilted her head.

“Oh, yeah, that’s what we call your dad,” Usopp explained. “Our captain can’t say his name, so, Torao.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” the girl frowned, not paying attention to the fact she was being led through yet another tunnel. “It’s not that hard…”

“It is for Luffy,” Usopp shrugged. They then came to a chamber where Franky and Thunder Solider were waiting, with Nauja gasping at the sight of the latter.

“Solider-ya!” she cried. She ran up to the toy and hugged him. “I’ve been worried about you!”

“I’ve been worried about you as well,” Thunder Soldier replied. “I see you’ve brought company.”

“This is Robin-ya and Usopp-ya—they’re friends of my dad! And I think you know the Tontattas…?”

“I do,” Thunder Soldier nodded. “I’ve been working diligently with them to build a resistance army that will bring back the Riku Family to power. We’re almost there.”

“The Riku Family…?”

“Yes!” Leo said cheerily. “King Riku was a kind and noble leader! Your uncle tricked the people into thinking he was evil so that he could come in and overthrow him!”

“Not many kings from the Big Humans are good, but Riku was,” Tonta-Chief added. “He was good and fair, and now instead he and his family suffer the most out of all.”

“…but you’re two toys and a bunch of Tontattas…” Nauja frowned.

“Yow, I’m no toy!” Franky replied. “I’m a cyborg!”

“What?!” Nauja marveled. “That’s supposed to be impossible! Did you eat a Devil Fruit?!”

“Nope! This is all genuine science and technology, little miss!” Franky posed outlandishly, making Nauja’s eyes grow wide, Robin chuckle, and Usopp facepalm.

“Does my dad know?! That’s so cool!”

“He knows,” Usopp deadpanned. “Franky, did you learn anything while you were out there? Where’s everyone else?”

“You’re not going to believe this, but I’ve got a story to tell you,” the cyborg replied. Usopp swallowed hard at that—whatever it was, it had better be something he could run away from.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Hakugan cussed under his breath as he ducked into the alleyway in order to avoid Marines. Fuck, the island was crawling with them now, which made his job infinitely more difficult. Once the coast was clear, he made a break for it, sprinting almost the entire way back to the crew’s rented house.

“Fuck, be a little more conspicuous, why don’t you,” Clione cringed as the front door slammed. “Any sign of them?”

“I wish,” the masked man breathed. “Did the others get back?”

“Right here,” Shachi said from the other room. Hakugan entered and saw the entire rest of the crew sans Law and Nauja was there. “You were almost caught too, eh?”

“There’s so many Marines out there that Dressrosa might have more than Marineford at the current moment,” Hakugan claimed. It didn’t make him feel any better that no one contradicted him. “What about you guys? Any good leads?”

“Sorry,” Bepo replied, bowing his head, “but we were hoping you had something.”

“Well, we can’t leave the Captain and Nauja to their own devices; it’s not like he’s taking her to a festival,” Jean Bart mused. “There has to be something we can do.”

“That’s the problem, big guy: there’s not much we can,” Penguin frowned. “This is a delicate operation that the Captain was willing to go into by himself before Nauja got involved—we’re good at information gathering and delicate shipwork and being a support structure, but battle…? With the Donquixote Pirates? And at least half the area’s Marine population? I don’t think so.”

“How do you know he would have gone in by himself?” Ikkaku asked.

“He’s only talked about how he wants to take down Doflamingo for, like, the entire time we’ve known him,” Penguin replied. Shachi and Bepo both nodded in confirmation. “He wanted Doflamingo dead even before the kid was in the picture… before any of us were in the picture… this day was coming whether we had a say in it or not…”

“Is this Doflamingo and his crew really that bad?” Jean Bart mused. The others nodded.

“If given a choice between fighting them or the Marines, I’m going with the Marines all day,” Shachi said. Mutters of agreement filtered through the rest of the crew—no arguments there. He then thought about it before sighing. “What the fuck are we even doing here…?”

The room was uncomfortably silent. It was a simple enough question, but not one that had an answer they wanted to hear. Functionally, they were in the way, just waiting to fuck everything up, to turn tail and run, and it wasn’t exactly the best feeling in the world. All they wanted to do was back up their captain, to help rescue his kid, and yet they were functionally a liability.

Just then, one of the transponder snails on the desk woke up and started buzzing in code. Clione frantically started writing the message, his face growing progressively paler the more he wrote. “Fuck…”

“What is it…?” Bepo wondered. “Is everything okay with the Captain and Nauja…?” Clione simply leaned back once the snail stopped buzzing and stared into the middle distance.

“I… uh… don’t know how to tell everyone this, but… my contact just passed along some interesting news.”

His crewmates stared at him—what?!

“…as it turns out, Cap’s royalty,” he said flatly. He opened and closed his mouth a few times as he tried to both process the information and figure out how to present it to the rest of the crew, his mouth making a tsk sound each time. “He… I guess… is Doflamingo’s… nephew…?”

“Wait, what…?!” Penguin asked, furrowing his brow. “Says who…?!”

“An admiral, who I guess heard it from the Captain during what ended up being failed negotiations,” Clione marveled. What the actual fuck was going on? This was beyond anything anyone thought would happen.

“…and your contact knows this how?” Ikkaku asked.

“The Marines who were on Green Bit, which I guess was a trap after all, can’t keep their yaps shut and now the admiral is having a hell of a crisis on what to do, which is honestly the good part about all this.” More code came through and he could help but laugh incredulously as he wrote it down.

“What is it now…?” Shachi frowned. The rest of the crew were all exchanging uneasy glances.

“Admiral Fujitora stripped both of them of Warlord status thanks to their alliances with Straw Hat and Kaidou,” Clione marveled.

“Well, it was fun while it lasted,” Ikkaku deadpanned.

“No shit; plus, because of the whole them-being-related-thing, this might be classified as a civil war…?”

“Oh no…” Bepo fretted. “All we wanted was our kid, and now the Captain’s started a civil war?! This is terrible!”

“Hmm… maybe not,” Jean Bart mused. The others looked at him and he nodded with the levity befitting his former captain’s status. “Has your contact mentioned anything about Nauja?”

“Just that they’re still looking for her.”

“Then that’s settled,” Penguin nodded. “We’re going to find her first.”

“You said yourself we are not good for battle,” Jean Bart said with a chuckle, “so let’s use this civil war to our advantage.”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Nauja crept carefully past the Marines that were concentrating on Franky and dashed for a small alleyway, dirk drawn and at the ready. She was shaking as she watched the cyborg continue the distraction and was glad that he had not stopped yet. It was her job to get out of sight now that they were getting the plan into action, and she was not going to disappoint anyone. With her dirk firmly in her hands, she began to creep backwards towards the other exit, which would hopefully allow her access to the rest of Dressrosa.

“Where do you think you’re going, brat?” She cringed and looked over her shoulder to see Señor Pink standing there at the back mouth of the alley, looking the exact amount of stupid and mean that she was not in the mood for dealing with at the moment. “The Young Master’s been looking everywhere for you…”

“Stay away from me,” she insisted, holding up her knife. “I’m not afraid of you.”

“You sure about that?” he scoffed. “You really shouldn’t be a brat when someone as hard-boiled as I am decides your fate.”

“That doesn’t even mean anything! You’re just weird!” She watched as he ground his teeth on his pacifier—great. Now he was just pissed off.

“You wouldn’t understand the pain I’ve gone through, kid,” Señor Pink growled. “It takes a real man to have lived through what I have.”

“You’re creepy! Stay away from me!”

“Stop picking on the Little Mistress, Pink.” Both Señor Pink and Nauja looked to see that Baby 5 was approaching as she lit up a cigarette. “You go get the cyborg—I’ll take care of her.”

“You sure?”

“I’m pretty sure your expertise is needed elsewhere.” He nodded and dove into the ground, swimming his way towards a battle with Franky. Nauja began to shake as Baby 5 stood there staring her down. “What’s the matter?”

“I wanna go home,” Nauja said resolutely. Tears began to silently stream down her cheeks. “I don’t want to stay with any of you anymore.”

“…but Little Mistress, your place is here, with the Family.” Baby 5 crouched down and stared at the girl curiously. “Don’t we treat you well?”

“I don’t care.”

“You don’t care…? Now what kind of an answer is that?” Baby 5 let out a puff of smoke, tilting her head in genuine curiosity. “Don’t you like being a princess?”

“No. I like learning doctor things.”

Baby 5 paused, considering everything she knew about the girl. “Is this about Giolla’s dresses? If you ruin enough of them she’ll get the picture…” Sounds from Señor Pink and Franky fighting began in the background, though not clearly enough to tell what was going on. Nauja remained still, holding her knife shakily as she kept it pointed at Baby 5. The adult closed her eyes for a moment and sighed, letting out a puff of smoke before she turned her crouch into a bow on one knee and looked the girl in the eyes.

“Then tell me what you need me to do, Little Mistress, and I will make it happen.”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Every part of Law ached as he drifted back into consciousness. Seastone cuffs burned at his wrists held behind his back and he could feel at least three of his ribs were broken, varying other fractures, lacerations… fuck… was he concussed…? Oh… seas… he was fucking concussed…

“Rise and shine,” Doflamingo sing-songed. Law blinked blood from his eyes and realized where he was: the Dressrosan palace, tied unceremoniously to a chair. He tilted his head up and saw the top was shaped like a heart—oh, fuck. “You have answers to give me, young man.”

“I don’t owe you anything,” Law hissed. “Debts don’t transfer when it’s the brother that pulled the trigger.”

“You’re still mad about that?” Doflamingo asked, a false innocence scraped thinly across his voice. The corner of his mouth twitched into a grin. “All I did was eliminate an obstacle that was in my way.”

“He never wanted to see you again; how is that an obstacle?”

“It is when he runs off with my ticket to everything.” Doflamingo held Law’s chin and made the younger man look at him, eyes narrowed. “Now you’ve come back, but not to give me what I want.”

“At this point, I don’t know what you want anymore,” Law spat. “You keep taking my family away, and for what…? So I can use my Devil Fruit ability on you? What in the hell do you think is owed you?”

“Everything, Law; I am owed everything this pathetic world has to offer.” He let go and straightened, towering over his prisoner. “All the riches of Marie Geoise, all the power of the Underground, all the life afforded me by that Devil Fruit of yours, all the legitimacy of raising a young child into what her father was foolish enough to eschew…”

“…and you will not lay a finger on her ever again! I made sure of that!”

“Are you, now?” He smirked as Law’s face fell in horror at the sight of Nauja stepping out of the shadows, clinging to Doflamingo’s pant leg as she stared at him. “Tell him.”

“Uncle Doffy is kind to me and forgave me for biting him,” the child said. “He said that with training, I will become Queen of Dressrosa.”

“Nauja-ya…”

“You’re sitting in my chair—I’m going to sit there,” she said, face wet with tears. “I’m going to be the Heart, and then Joker and Queen. Uncle Doffy will make sure that I become Queen when he gets tired of Dressrosa.”

“Nauja-ya, listen to yourself: this is the man that killed Cora-jiisan! He’s going to kill us too! He just wants to use you!” Law struggled against his restraints, the cuffs cutting into his wrists. His stomach churned as Doflamingo picked her up, allowing the child to latch on as he held her close. “Nauja-ya! What did you do to her?!”

“She’s a bright child—she’ll do well,” Doflamingo said. She hid her face in his coat, unable to look at Law. “My only concern is how you were able to hide her from us for so long… hide her mother… who is her mother, and where is she? Why did you have a child so young and why do you keep her away from the only other family she has left?”

Law’s chest felt tight as he stared at Doflamingo—he really thought Nauja was his biological daughter…? That he had her for the past nearly eight years? There was something that wasn’t right about all of this… something that settled wrong…

“I’ve seen how you treat family… why would I return to you if given the choice?”

“A single man raising a young girl all by himself? You need a support structure; you need family…”

“I have my family. You were never a part of it.”

“Even when I raised you?”

“Especially when you were grooming me.”

“Ooooh, now that’s not nice,” Doflamingo crooned. He lifted his leg and kicked the side of Law’s face, staying perfectly still with the child in his arm. “I only raise people out of mediocrity. Whatever vile words you attach to it is entirely your fault.”

“Uncle Doffy says I’m a good girl,” the child said, voice wavering. “You were bad—that’s why this is happening. Mom would want me to be a princess.”

Ah! That was it!

“No… this is happening because a certain someone thinks he can mimic my child and that I won’t notice because I’m panicking,” Law said. It was beginning to hurt to move his jaw—great, another bullet point on the list. “I don’t know who that is, but my daughter knows one very important thing that you don’t.”

“Oh…? What would that be…?”

“That she has no mother.”

The child sitting in Doflamingo’s arm dissolved into string as he dropped it, instead choosing to step on the Heart Seat as he held Law high against the back, crouching down to be directly in his face. His Haki bore down on Law, threatening to make him pass out.

“Don’t play games with me,” he hissed. “I am going to make you watch as I eliminate that crew of yours and all your little allies. That girl shall become mine to raise. She will be everything you weren’t… everything you refused to be… everything you neglected to tell her mother…”

“Fat chance.”

“Then what do you want?!” His Haki pressed harder, pushing Law to the edge. “Do you want money?! Power?! Why did you challenge my claim to the throne?! Why did you stay away all this time, only to come back with that traitor’s name on your lips?! Why did you do something as monumentally stupid as announce a bond you spent almost half your life acknowledging?! Do you realize how much of a fucking mess I’m going to have to clean up now because of you?!”

“You killed the man who would have been my father, you kidnapped the girl who is my daughter, and you have the nerve to think that this might be about money?!” Law wheezed. Shit—was his lung punctured…? “This has always been about revenge, Doflamingo, plain and simple.”

“You know nothing about revenge,” Doflamingo sneered. “Your whole nation murdered before your eyes and you. Know. Nothing. I am going to get my revenge—true revenge—and laugh as the world burns and bows at my feet. As they do, I shall teach that girl how to be fierce and powerful and have her continue on where Rosi and you refused. Revenge, my boy, is a dish of many flavors.”

“You kill me and she will be the one to slit your throat,” Law warned. “My daughter knows better than to believe a piece of fucking work like you.”

“She will be an elegant queen and the ultimate Joker, all while you rot.”

“…but why her…?!”

“Why not?” Doflamingo leaned back and dropped Law, letting him hit the chair below him hard. “You think you’re so clever, like you’re going to trick your way out of this one. Well, guess what?”

He couldn’t guess, because everything went black.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Chaos reigned around Baby 5 as she ran through the streets with Nauja on her back, trying to carry the girl to safety. Groups of angry, confused Dressrosans were beginning to take up arms, talking about the overthrowing the Young Master in favor for his brother’s family. Marines were both aiding and clashing with them. Toys were flopping about as they tried to resist the call to assist the Donquixote Pirates in defending against the growing discontent. Everything was a dry powder keg and someone was soon about to throw a match on the nation.

“I thought you can transform into stuff to get away easier,” Nauja wondered as they ducked to avoid some citizens. “Why can’t you?”

“I can turn into weapons, not anything useful for getting you away,” Baby 5 scowled. “That shit better be glad I like you. I’m betraying the Young Master for this.”

“Something tells me Law-san will like it a lot,” Nauja giggled. They peeked out from behind a stack of crates and Baby 5 began to run some more. “You really lived together when you were little?”

“Shared a room, even,” Baby 5 replied. “It was the two of us and Dellinger, and Buffalo for a little bit. I guess it was like having brothers.”

“Then you really are my tieta, aren’t you?”

Baby 5 stopped running as she processed Nauja’s revelation. For those short years he was there, he really had been like a brother to her, hadn’t he? Even when he was gone she looked up to his ghost like a sibling would  had their elder brother disappeared. There was always the hope that he’d come back and that they could be like they were before. She hesitated for so long that a group of armed citizens found them.

“It’s Princess Nauja! A member of the Donquixote Family has her!”

“Ah, shit!” Baby 5 turned her hand into a gun and fired a smokescreen into the ground, allowing them some time to escape. She eventually found a cluster of toys hiding from the fighting; they cowered at the sight of her. “Hey! You!”

“Don’t hurt us!” a toy shivered.

“I won’t if you do what I say,” Baby 5 snapped. She let Nauja slide off her back and pushed her towards the toys. “Keep the Little Mistress safe until we can figure out what the fuck is going on.”

“…and why should we listen to you?” a toy asked. It looked like a clown, but Nauja could feel that there was something very not funny inside of it.

“Because this kid is the reason we have a shot at getting rid of Doflamingo,” Baby 5 stated. The toys all looked at her with their unmoving faces—a Dressrosa without Doflamingo was a tempting proposition.

“Where are you going to go, Tieta Cinca?”

“I need to figure out which side of this I’m going to be on.” She pressed a kiss to the top of Nauja’s hair and ran off, jumping off a ledge to turn into a rocket and whiz away. This left Nauja to look at the toys, most of whom were shaking.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” she frowned. “I’m not like them.”

“You are the Little Mistress, Princess Nauja,” a plush giraffe said. “We have been given orders by members of the Family to bring you back. We don’t want to bring you back.”

“I need to find my dad,” she said, “and I know you know how to find him.”

“Most of us wouldn’t know the first thing,” a nutcracker explained. “Toys are good for only a few things, after all.”

“I know you’re toys, but you used to not be, so I know you’re able to help me.”

Some of the toys scattered at that, not wanting to be caught between Doflamingo’s orders and this girl who knew way too much. The toy clown stayed, however, tilting its head curiously.

“How did you know?” it wondered.

“I can hear you screaming,” she explained. She squat down and placed her finger on its chest. “In here. All the toys are really sad in here, even if they say nice things and are able to smile. It’s like you’re in pain. I can hear you call out to people you used to know… people who you want to help, but don’t realize who you are.”

“You figured out all that?” the clown toy marveled. She nodded. “That’s… odd. It feels like even the people in charge of us don’t realize what’s truly going on sometimes, and yet no one told you…?”

“Nope. I figured it all out on my own.”

“The fact you’re able to figure all that out on your own… no wonder Doflamingo wants you back… why his officer wants you out of sight.” The toy then sighed resolutely. “I shall care for you.”

“You will…?”

“I shall; I cannot turn away a lady in danger, especially princesses.” The toy bowed deeply, nose almost able to touch the ground. “If I could tell you my name in this form, Little Mistress, I would. Do I call you Princess or Nauja or Princess Nauja?”

“My name is Trafalgar Nauja, but just call me Nauja I guess.”

“Wait… Trafalgar?! Are you are related to Trafalgar Law, Surgeon of Death?!”

“Yeah! That’s my dad!”

“There is beauty in irony, I suppose,” the toy muttered. It then hit the sides of its face with its hands in an attempt to ground itself to reality. “No more dawdling—let’s get you to a safe place. I have not been a toy for long, but I still know a thing or two.”

The toy took Nauja’s hand and began to lead her through the streets and alleyways, hoping to keep the child alive for as long as she was needed. They ran and ran until finally, there was an opening: if they were able to get past the group of Marines then they could get out of the palace area and head towards the south harbor.

“It’s Princess Nauja!”

Both Nauja and the toy cringed as they skidded to a halt. Some of the Marines lowered their rifles at the toy while others blocked their path to safety. The girl held on tight to the toy, which made it impossible for it to be shot.

“Get out of the way, Princess Nauja!” one of the Marines ordered. “We’re here to bring you back to your uncle!”

“I don’t want Uncle Doffy! I want my dad!” she snapped.

“We have direct orders!”

“From who?!”

“Vice-Admiral Vergo of G-5!”

Nauja tensed at hearing the name. No… she wasn’t going to go back with him… she just wasn’t! Her grip on the toy clown loosened as she began to tremble.

“You won’t touch her,” the clown toy said resolutely. “By all that is beautiful in the world, I will protect her with my life.”

“You’re a toy,” a Marine scoffed. “One word from the Family and you’re protecting nothing.”

“Shows what you know.”

All of a sudden, the toy that was standing in front of Nauja disappeared in a puff of smoke, instead being replaced by a man with long blond hair and fancy clothes. The man marveled for a moment at the fact he was Human again before drawing his sword and pointing it at the soldiers in front of him.

“I said: don’t touch the child,” he repeated haughtily. “Her father is ready to move mountains to retrieve her and I intend to protect her until then.”

“You’re nothing but a two-bit pirate—what are you going to do?” one of the Marines sneered. “Well, what are you going to do, Pretty Boy?”

“Go to sleep.” The man’s head sagged as he stumbled, catching himself just before he fell to the ground. Nauja and the guards all stared at him, wondering what was going on.

Then, the man looked back up, showing that his face had now changed from something gentle and pretty to feral and grotesque. He cackled wordlessly with his wide grin and balanced his stance. A moment and he vanished, completely baffling the onlookers.

Shivering, Nauja saw the Marines turn their attention onto her again. The leader took a step towards her and suddenly something slashed his abdomen from hip to shoulder, blood and guts spurting out as he cried in agony. His companions all fell in the same manner, one by one, all terrified until they were laying lifeless in the dirt, their mad killer standing tall and proud over his quarry.

“Wh—who are you…?!” Nauja whimpered.

“Hakuba,” the man replied, voice low and cold and completely unlike before. He stepped forward, approaching Nauja with his blade still covered in entrails. “My other self, the idiot he is, finally had a good idea.”

“What’s that…?”

“Keeping you alive will be useful.”

The man stumbled and fell to his knees in front of the child, almost completely collapsing before he propped himself up with his hands and gasped deeply. He looked up—he was how he looked at first.

“Good,” he smiled gently. “My other self is not a complete brute after all. My name is Cavendish, and I am going to help you find your father.”

“…but the harbor…?”

“Heading there is no longer safe with these brutes around. If your father is helping to free this place, then he helped to free me, and for that I shall assist in whichever way I can. My other self… he shall at least keep you safe when he is out.”

“Thank you, Banana-ya!” Nauja beamed. Cavendish cringed at that.

“Banana?! I am more like an elegant rose, perfectly cultivated to the peak of its beauty!”

“Then why do you have the same name as Shachi-ya’s favorite type of banana?” The little girl tilted her head as the princely man fumed and struggled to not yell at her—she was just a child, after all. What did she know about such things?

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

To say that Dressrosa had devolved into complete pandemonium was a complete undersell of the very specific brand of disorder that was there. It was a clusterfuck, as Shachi accurately described, and to say it was a civil war was not entirely off. With the toys returned to their original forms, there was a lot that was going on in regards to old soldiers, former gladiators, and simply ordinary dissidents coming back onto the scene and into everyone’s memories again. Even the animals that had been turned into toys added to the panic, as they were aggressive and dangerous, causing worse damage than they had as toy soldiers.

“We need to find King Riku!”

“Princess Viola might know where Kyros went!”

“Shit! Princess Rebecca! Did she make it out of the coliseum?!”

“I hear she is working with Princess Nauja and her father to take out Doflamingo!”

“If they do take him out, I wonder which line shall rule…?”

“Together, perhaps?”

“Princess Rebecca is still a child yet! Do not talk like that!”

“I was not talking of Princess Rebecca!”

Yeah. There definitely was a lot going on as the Hearts tried to figure out what to do and where to go. Some of them got involved in patching up people who had been injured by the wild animals, though most were simply just trying to find any hints of Nauja or Law, dodging Marines in their panic.

“This is not going good,” Uni grimaced as he lifted Hakugan above his head. The masked man stood on his shoulders and tried to look around the square they were in. “How about it?”

“Nothing.”

“You sure…?”

“I’m sure—there’s nothing but panicked people, gladiators, and soldiers from what I can see,” Hakugan replied. He glanced down and saw Ikkaku, Clione, Penguin, and Shachi testing out some weapons they “liberated” from a naval setup. “Almost ready?”

“Yeah—we should be good to go in a sec,” Penguin assured. He made a stabbing motion with the spear in his hand and nodded. “Marine-issue shit’s not that bad.”

“Could be worse,” Ikkaku scoffed as she tested out the feel of a quarterstaff. She looked at Bepo and raised an eyebrow quizzically—he wasn’t taking his pick of the weapons. “Aren’t you going to take something?”

“I… uh… not really… sorry…” The bear nervously picked at his paws as he shifted from foot to foot. “I’m not very confident in fighting right now.”

“…but we’ve seen you fight before,” Clione noted. “Do you just not like fighting with weapons, or…?”

“Always has been like this; don’t worry about him,” Shachi added. “Bear could have killed us five different ways before we knew each other an hour. You know as well as I do that he’s a born hugger, not a mugger.”

“Well that’s one way to put it,” Bepo mumbled. Did it matter that he’d only been nine when they met? Not entirely…

“Hey! Jean Bart’s coming back!” Hakugan hopped off Uni’s shoulders as the largest Heart Pirate came lumbering into view. “What’cha find?”

“He’s here!” Jean Bart grimaced. His crewmates’ expressions fell in concern.

“Who’s here?” Penguin asked.

“Vergo.”

Fuck… they were in the middle of a civil war and the man who kidnapped their kid was there?! While their captain was who-the-fuck-knew-where?! This was not good…

“Did he see you?” Shachi asked.

“I don’t know; it’s not like I’m an easy target to miss.”

“Well, we’re not going to find out,” Penguin said. “Come on, everyone! Let’s move out before it’s too late!”

“It looks as though you’re done anyhow,” a voice announced. Everyone looked behind Jean Bart to see that Vergo had indeed seen him and had followed the large man back to the rendezvous point. He was already holding a long piece of bamboo, twirling it in a slow, menacing arch to his side. “Round Two, gentlemen?”

“Fuck off!” Ikkaku snapped. “This is all your fault! None of this would be happening if you hadn’t kidnapped Nauja!”

“My fault?” Vergo had the gall to layer an accusatory film over his voice. “I’m not the one who brought a child on a pirate ship with all the dangers and unstable factors such an environment has, then invaded a sovereign nation, attempt a coup of the ruling family, and decide to turn even the military on the king. I might have ‘kidnapped’ her, but I did none of that. I only put her where she belongs.”

“You might not have done all those things,” Bepo hissed, “but that’s only because you were playing dirty, sneaking into the military.” The Mink went to the front of the group at his crewmates’ horror.

“Bepo, get back!” Jean Bart warned. “He’s the one who took us all down—he’s no pushover.”

“I know,” Bepo replied. He growled low, baring his teeth. “What do you know about Minks?”

“Tch—you’re animals that talk,” Vergo scoffed. “The men look like beasts and the women look like fuzzy pinup girls.”

“Sorry, but my cousin would have a word with you about that.” Bepo took a step closer, making his crewmates uncomfortable. “What else?”

“Something about the full moon, which is nowhere near time to worry about that.”

Another step. “Anything else?”

“You are in the way.”

“Wrong answer.” Bepo caught the piece of bamboo as Vergo swung with it, his entire body crackling with Electro. It took only for Vergo’s lips to part in surprise for the Mink to send a shock through the Human’s body, causing him to scream as he burned from the inside. He dropped unceremoniously to the ground, sizzling and smoking. “We’re protective of kids and cubs.”

“Holy shit, Bepo!” The Mink turned around and saw the crew was staring slackjawed at him. Shachi in particular seemed terrified, pointing shakily at him. “I… I didn’t think you remembered how to do that!”

“Oh… sorry!” Bepo bowed in a panic. He seemed to snap out of a daze, completely embarrassed. “I should have warned you all!”

“Dude, I think you killed him,” Ikkaku marveled. She nudged Vergo with her boot—either he was dead or knocked out cold and at this point she’s take either. “Didn’t think you had it in you.”

“Sorry—did everyone else want a go…?”

“No… I think we’re done here,” Penguin said, patting Bepo’s shoulder proudly. “The sooner we figure this place out, the better off we’re gonna be.”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Dellinger fell to the ground bleeding and unconscious as Hakuba flicked the blood off his sword. The teen twitched as he laid crumpled in the rubble, Nauja staring wide-eyed at him before she crabwalked away from the body that had knocked her to the ground just moments before.

“I wonder how many more people will try to get in our way,” Hakuba chortled. He looked at Nauja, the grin on his face refusing to fade. “Who should I kill next, Princess?”

“You’re not supposed to kill!” she squeaked. “He’s mean, but he shouldn’t die!” She looked back at Dellinger and saw that the teen was still breathing. “He’s not dead now!”

“That must be my weaker self attempting to exert control.” He walked towards Dellinger slowly, sword still drawn. “There are things that must be done.” He raised the blade and Nauja gasped—no!–only for him to stumble and miss, tip of the sword lodging itself in the ground next to Dellinger as Cavendish took over.

“Banana-ya! Don’t scare me like that!” Nauja stood and brushed the dust from her dress before checking to make sure her backpack was still intact. “I’m gonna be a doctor, and doctors don’t like it when people die!”

“That’s something I keep trying to do when it comes to reining in my other half,” Cavendish grimaced. He pulled his sword from the ground and sheathed it before offering his hand to the girl. “Come, we can keep looking for your father. If we are lucky, we can find my horse as well—Farul is a wonderful steed on which to elegantly ride.”

“All I care about is finding my dad,” Nauja reiterated. She allowed Cavendish to pick her up and place her on his shoulders so that she could help look around. “Uhh… Banana-ya…?”

“Yes?”

“What color is Farul?”

“White, of course. It is the most regal color.”

“Then I think he’s coming from over there.” She placed her hands on his face and turned his head to the left; it took a couple seconds, yet there in the distance was a group of people coming towards them, and towards the front of the group…

“Oh! Farul! You’ve come for me!” Cavendish was close to tears as the group approached, his horse at a canter alongside a bull that was carrying some familiar faces. “Straw Hat! It is about time you brought my precious Farul to me!”

“Huh…? Oh, hi Cabbage!” Luffy smiled brightly at Cavendish, who began fuming as a result. He then noticed Nauja and shook the lump of a person that was draped across the bull’s back. “Hey, Torao, is this yours?!” He shifted the person and yes! It was Law-san!

“Nauja!” he gasped. “Where have you been?!”

“I was with some of your friends!” she replied. “Then I got separated from them, but Tieta Cinca brought me to some toys! And one of them became this guy! Who can become another guy! But they both protect me, so it’s okay!”

“I have an idea,” Cavendish said. He put Nauja up on Farul’s withers before hefting himself in the saddle.  “You’re never going to be able to approach Doflamingo with such a retinue. Come with me and let Farul’s ability to maneuver swiftly take you to the plateau.”

“Ucy’s taken us this far!” Luffy replied.

“Well, yeah, but he’s tired,” Nauja pointed out. “Farul isn’t ‘cause no one was riding on him.”

“That makes sense,” Luffy nodded. He then tossed Law over to the horse, having him land directly between Nauja and Cavendish. “Shishishi! Thanks for doing so well, Ucy!” The bull let out a low grunt—it was only happy to help.

“Are you okay, Law-san?” Nauja asked. Law tried to adjust so that he was not laying on his hands but was unsuccessful. “Did Uncle Doffy hurt you?”

“Nothing we can’t fix,” he replied, offering her a wan smile. She smiled back, only to be surprised by something being placed on her head—a hat. “Strawhat-ya, why are you putting that ratty thing on her?”

“She’s gonna keep it safe for me, aren’t you?” Luffy chuckled. He was now sitting behind Cavendish; one noodle-arm was putting his hat on Nauja, while the other was helping Kyros onto Farul’s back-most end. “That hat’s my treasure, like your dad is your treasure, so it’s only fair you have that while I help your dad, okay?”

“Okay!” she grinned. Nauja then tilted her head at Kyros. “Soldier-ya… is that you…?! You’re not a toy anymore!”

“That’s right,” he said, allowing himself a small chuckle. “Now let’s get going; I want to be out of a job before the day is out.”

“Gladiator?” Luffy asked.

“Nope!” Nauja grinned. “Protector of good little children who need help!”

“Sound like an excellent thing to not need—ride, Farul!” Cavendish shouted. The horse whinnied and took off, doing his best to gallop with all the extra weight on his back. Doflamingo was going down!

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Law-san and Strawhat-ya had been up atop King’s Plateau for a long time. Every so often, the group in Flower Field got a glimpse of the fight—an arm from Luffy or some strings from Doflamingo—and the fact they hadn’t seen a Room go up made for the youngest of the group gathered there worry.

“Don’t cry, Princess,” Cavendish said, placing a hand on the girl’s shoulder. She simply kept staring up at the plateau, biting her lower lip.

“I’m not a princess,” she huffed. “If being a princess means all this, then I don’t want it.”

“I told you she is wise,” Kyros said. He was laying down on the ground spread-eagle to catch his breath, his daughter sitting next to him. “I would keep her if I were your grandfather.”

“Who knows what Grandfather wants do after all this,” Rebecca frowned. She was still shaking as she was attempting to process everything that had happened over the past ten years. “I still find it difficult to believe that she’s the girl who was going to become the princeseta after the Levely…”

“She’s clever and determined—I wouldn’t write her off,” Robin chuckled. “Torao-kun has been good to and for her.” Leo popped up onto her shoulder and was about to add something when Luffy’s voice boomed over them all.

“Oi! Cabbage! Get Torao to safety!” Everyone looked and saw as Luffy tossed Law over the side of the level he was on. Robin caught him in a large hand before placing him gently on the ground, her eyebrow quirking in curiosity. “Oh…? Your arm did not do that before…”

“Oh! We’re on it!” Leo and Mansherry began to reattach Law’s arm while Cavendish held Nauja back.

“I’m not leaving!” Law snapped, surprising everyone else there. “Strawhat-ya is up there because of me; I’m not going to run.” He passed out as Mansherry’s healing tears hit his arm and Nauja was finally able to wriggle out of Cavendish’s grasp and run to him.

“If that is so, then there is still much to do,” Kyros nodded. He watched as Nauja clung to her unconscious father before he turned to Rebecca. “Let the rest of us help the citizens. These two will be alright.”

“I’ll stay with them,” Cavendish agreed. He sat near Law and Nauja as the others went to find the way down. “Don’t move him about so much; it’ll be bad for his healing.”

“I know that!” she sobbed. She clutched his shirt as she pressed her face into his chest. “Law-san…! Please be okay, Law-san! I still need you!” Nauja continued to cry hysterically until she felt his hand gently rest upon her back. “Law-san?!”

“I’m here,” he groaned, putting on a smile for her. She sat up and he could see her a bit better, catching the tears and snot running down her face. “Hey, none of that now. I’m here.”

“…but you’re…!”

“…with my kid, and that’s all I ask.” He blinked some blood from his vision and touched the skirt of her dress. “This is pretty—where’d you get it?”

“Giolla made it for me. I don’t like it. My boilersuit doesn’t fit nice over it.”

“Sometimes, pretty things don’t suit us, because they aren’t always practical for our needs,” he said. “It’s not good or bad. It just… is.” He closed his eyes and exhaled heavily as he heard the far-off sound of Luffy shouting. “After all this time, it’s not even me doing the bastard in.”

“Perhaps,” Cavendish nodded, “it’s better this way. This darling needs her father after all, and is one really the same after they’ve killed?”

“Don’t you get sentimental on me now,” Law grunted as he sat up. Every single part of him hurt beyond reason—this was going to be a rough recovery. He saw that Nauja was picking at a pleat in her skirt and he frowned. “What…?”

“What did you call Opa?” she asked. “I’ve thought about it, and I don’t think I should just call you Dad, so I want to know what you called Opa in Flevench.” He nodded at that, considering his options.

“Vaor… Papa… Vader…” He licked his lips—fuck, how did they get so dry? “Other people had different names for their dad, if none of those fit.”

“No… I like Vaor. Can you please be Vaor now?”

“Of course… famke…”

“…and what does that mean in your language?” Cavendish wondered. Law hesitated, turning towards Nauja so that he could stroke her face.

“Daughter,” he replied, voice cracking. Nauja flung herself into his arms and began to whimper quietly. Law carefully cradled her against his chest and tucked her head under his chin, allowing her to cuddle in close. “Cavendish? Do you mind…?”

“I’ll give you a minute,” the other man replied. He stood and put a few paces between them in order to afford a bit of privacy.

“I almost lost you,” Law whispered hoarsely. “Seas… I’d never forgive myself if I let Doflamingo take another person from me…”

“You’re really my dad now? For real? Not just what we’re saying?”

“I think I was for a long time already… it just took putting you in danger to realize that.” He felt her shiver and he kissed her forehead, avoiding the straw hat still atop her hair. “You did very, very well. Cora-jiisan would be extremely proud of you.”

“…yeah…?”

“Yeah. Want to know how I know?” She nodded. “…because I’m extremely proud of you.” Nauja hugged Law tighter, her breathing jagged and uneven as she tried to keep herself calm.

“Vaor…?”

“Yes, Nauja…?”

“If Strawhat-ya is going to finish beating up Uncle Doffy, will we still be a prince and princess?”

“No—all that is going back to Viola-ya and her family. It never should have been taken from them to begin with… not the way it happened, anyhow.”

“Okay, good,” Nauja nodded. “Being a princess was dumb and a little boring when it wasn’t being scary. I’m glad we’re doctors in a submarine! It’s much more interesting that way.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Something then caught his eye down in the battlefield and he let out a chuckle. “Hey, famke, want to go be doctors?”

“Oh! Yes please!” She held onto his jacket tightly as he opened a large Room and suddenly they were on paver stones in front of people from the coliseum. Nauja panicked when she saw that although she had been placed on her feet, Law had landed on his side and she righted him immediately.

“P-P-Princess Nauja!” one of the gladiators gasped, “…and Trafalgar Law! What are you doing?!”

“Aren’t you running a bit far?” Law asked, motioning towards an unconscious Luffy. “Has his Haki returned yet?”

“He has three minutes and twenty seconds left out of ten,” the large man carrying Luffy said.

“Then let my daughter and me take it from here,” Law replied. “Don’t worry,” he opened a Room, “we’re doctors.”

With a small pop, all three were replaced by rocks. Once Nauja realized they had moved to a flat rooftop, she saw that her father was maintaining an exceptionally-large Room as he was slumped against a wall, while Luffy laid on the floor of the roof completely unconscious.

“Strawhat-ya!” She ran over to him in a panic and lifted his head so it could rest on her lap. “Vaor, what are we going to do?!”

“We’re just buying him time to recover,” he replied. “I wouldn’t think he’s very treatable right now with exception of that.”

“…but look at him! He’s all cut up and dirty! These are going to get infected!”

“We’ll worry about that after the fight. For now, we have to make sure things go according to plan.” He looked somewhere away from the rooftop, catching Nauja’s attention. She took off her backpack and replaced it as Luffy’s pillow so that she could see what was so interesting.

There, on the ground, Viola and Doflamingo were staring one another down, with the former holding a knife.

“Vaor, we have to help her!” Nauja whispered. He simply raised a hand in reply as she draped her arms around his neck.

Not yet.

They watched as Viola attacked Doflamingo, only to be caught in his strings. Rebecca also became ensnared, unwillingly making the moves that were going to kill the other woman. There was a shuffling noise and Luffy began to stand.

“Torao,” he growled, “I’m ready.”

Just as Rebecca was going to bring down her sword, Law made the swap, bringing Viola to the rooftop and a Haki-charged Luffy to the ground. The weapon shattered and Doflamingo sputtered in rage. Nauja left her father’s grasp to scurry over to Viola, helping her sit up.

“I… I’m not dead…?” she marveled. She looked up at Nauja and tears began to form in her eyes anew. “Mars maleïts… you’re alive…”

“I am!” Nauja sniffled. Rebecca was then flung onto the rooftop, replacing a fragment of rubble that had been laying nearby.

“Nena!” Viola gasped. She and Nauja helped the teen up, who shivered when she realized what had happened.

“Tieta…!” Rebecca sobbed, allowing her aunt to bring her into a hug. “I’m so sorry!”

“You have nothing to be sorry about,” Viola crooned, rubbing her niece’s back. “You were so brave these past ten years, had so much asked of you, and yet you’re still good under it all. Both of you did so well.”

“Both of…?” Rebecca wiped the tears from her eyes and saw Nauja standing there awkwardly, the little girl not sure what to say. “Oh! Princeseta! You’re here too!

“I don’t want to be the princeseta!” Nauja blurted out. “I just want to be a doctor! Being a princess isn’t for me! Giolla-ya’s dresses and all the training and all the people watching me all the time—it’s not for me!”

“Then you don’t have to be a princess anymore,” Viola agreed. She glanced over at Law, who was still monitoring the situation with Doflamingo and Luffy. “Hear that? At least I won’t need to make an official decree.”

“You might still need to; I did sort of claim rights to challenge Doflamingo for the throne on Green Bit earlier,” he said casually.

“You did what?!” Viola marveled.

“Cora-jiisan being Uncle Doffy’s brother makes Vaor a prince!” Nauja chirped. “Cora-jiisan took care of Vaor, and Vaor takes care of me, so we’re technically a prince and princess, but we don’t want it, not unless it involves making Uncle Doffy look stupid.”

“I think Lucy is taking care of that, germaneta,” Rebecca replied, a laugh working its way through her tears. All four of them looked to the sky and watched as Luffy and Doflamingo went head-to-head in mid-air, bringing their duel to a thrilling crescendo.

Luffy won.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Things were still a bit chaotic after that. While most of the pirates were able to hide within the castle at King Riku’s request, the remaining Straw Hats, Law, and Nauja were hidden in Kyros’s small house in order to get some quiet rest. One everyone’s wounds were cared for, Law collapsed from exhaustion, causing Nauja to panic.

“Don’t worry,” Robin assured. “He’s done enough for one day.” She helped the girl move him from halfway-draped across the bed to laying down on the floor, edging a seat cushion underneath his head. Since they had arrived at the house, Nauja had swapped Luffy’s hat for Law’s and shed her ruined dress in favor of her lavender coveralls. “Aren’t you tired?”

“No.” Nauja shook her head and looked around the one-room house; Kyros, a man she didn’t recognize, and her vaor were laying on the floor passed out cold in their sleep. Luffy was asleep in the bed, as was Usopp, having fallen asleep waiting for his captain to release his grip on him as though the sniper was Professor Nanuk instead of another Human. This left her with Robin, Franky, and Zoro, all of whom were finally beginning to relax in the quiet.

“You’ve been super-brave this week, kid,” Franky chuckled. He didn’t pause working on fixing the damage to his face, with half of his skin pulled back as delicate instruments picked at the wiring beneath. “We won’t blame you if you took a nap.”

“I will when I’m tired, so not yet,” she claimed. She felt happy and safe there with the Straw Hats and wanted to enjoy the feeling for a while longer. After living with the Donquixote Pirates, she knew how good of a feeling it was, since it was something not all adults afforded her.

Just then, Nauja gasped and stood, carefully stepping over the varying people and medical debris she needed to reach the door.

“What’s going on there, kid?” Zoro wondered. The girl simply threw open the front door and saw three of the best things she could have ever imagined: Bepo, Penguin, and Shachi.

It was the crew.

“Nauja!” they all cheered as she ran out of the house towards them. She ran to Penguin and Shachi, who picked her up together, only for Bepo to lift all three of them in a hug.

“I can’t believe you’re all here!” she cried.

“Neither can we,” Penguin admitted. “We’ve been doing triage since the Birdcage began, and even then some of us were fighting alongside the citizens. Now come on, where’s the captain? We’ve got to bolt before everything goes to shit; everyone’s waiting at the Tang.”

“Vaor’s inside,” she said as everyone was put down. The three crewmates looked at her and she realized where the confusion was coming from. “Oh… yeah… I call him Vaor now… because having Law-san’s better than my dad…”

“No worries,” Shachi snickered, ruffling her hair. “So, we got to get in there and haul his ass out, or is he coming?”

“Vaor’s sleeping, so I don’t think we should wake him up,” Nauja frowned. “Where were you going to go?”

“Zou, to rest up a bit before deciding whereto next,” Penguin said. “We have to let Fred prove that her baby cousin’s okay after all.”

“Then we’ll meet you there!” she replied cheerily. “If the rest of Strawhat-ya’s crew is there, then they’re going to need to know how to get there, and none of them have a Vivre Card, but we do! This way Vaor can get more rest to feel better, and you can let them know we’re coming!”

“Sounds like a plan!” Bepo grinned. After distributing high-fives, they went to leave and were stopped by the sight of a tall, blond man who was walking towards them and the hut. The Mink let out a low growl while the Humans palmed their weapons.

“Whoa, hang on,” the man chuckled. He held up his hands in surrender. “I’m not here to cause trouble.��

“You sure about that?” Penguin spat, eyeing the staff slung across the stranger’s back.

“Trust me,” the man said. “If I wanted to hurt you…” His right hand burst into flames. “You’d be barbecue by now.”

“Then why are you here?” Shachi asked. The man’s hand became corporeal again.

“All I want is to see my brother before I skip town. That’s something I’m sure you can appreciate, can’t you?”

Nauja looked at the man and tilted her head. “Your heart sounds funny.”

“Nauja…!”

“…but Penguin-ya! It does!” She approached the blond and waited for him to crouch down to her height. “It’s like you have another voice in here, but I can’t tell what it is.” She pointed at his gut, which earned her a grin.

“While everyone was fighting, I ate my older brother’s Devil Fruit,” he said, a gentle pain in his voice. “Now he’s inside me, in a way, and I want to go see our younger brother once more before we part ways again.”

Nauja thought about that, then nodded and held out her hand. “Strawhat-ya’s in the house. I’ll bring you there.”

“Then, um… we’ll get going…” Penguin said awkwardly. The three Hearts stayed still, however, watching Nauja take the stranger by the hand and lead him into the house.

“I have Strawhat-ya’s brother!” she grinned happily. The stranger chuckled as he seemed to personify the word awkward as he stood in the door.

“She’s good at reading people,” he admitted. “To whom does she belong?”

“That would be Torao-kun there, sleeping by the table,” Robin said. She watched as the blond sat down on the edge of the mattress next to Usopp and Luffy, putting his hat and staff on the last bit of bed. “Should I wake him, Sabo?”

“Nah; let him sleep,” the blond replied. “All I wanted to do is see him before I leave.” He stopped as Nauja climbed into his lap and cuddled in close. “What’s this?”

“You’re warm,” she said, resisting the urge to fall asleep. She was tired, and he felt safe.

“I should hope so,” Sabo smirked. “So this is the child who brought down one of the most infamous crime families on the seas?”

“She is,” Franky confirmed. “The little miss getting kidnapped is what caused her father and his crew to attack the Donquixote Pirates like they did. He was super-pissed.”

“I’d be too, if such a cute kid was on the line.” Sabo wrapped an arm around Nauja, who was already snoring softly. “She’s lucky to have a dad like Trafalgar.”

“She’s favored,” Zoro noted. He took a sip of his booze, never taking his eye off her. “I don’t know how, but she is, just like he is.”

“Here I thought you didn’t believe in all that,” Robin noted. Zoro simply scoffed.

“I still don’t—it’s just that there’s something nagging at me and I don’t know what.” He emptied the bottle in his hand. “They’re the only words I have for it, you know?”

“That’s fair,” Sabo agreed. “If she is as favored as you say, then I think you should consider getting her and her father off Dressrosa soon as possible. I’m leaving tonight as well—once the Marines start moving, it’s going to be chaos, more so when Cipher Pol 0 returns.”

“You know they’re on their way?” Franky frowned. Sabo nodded in confirmation. “Shit—we really will have to get off this rock.”

“Best to wait until they wake up,” Sabo said. The child in his lap hummed happily and a wave of nostalgia washed over him, bringing the Revolutionary back to better days. “Until then… they’re in your care.”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Law really, really didn’t think there was time for this.

He had already gone to chat with Sengoku at the older man’s request—and without Nauja, against the latter part of said request—and was now making his way towards the meetup location where he was going to take his daughter from Robin’s care and head to the wharf where their ride was waiting. It was a great feeling when he saw Nauja sitting on a rock waiting for him, Robin giving him a nod in affirmation before silently walking away.

“Did you get done what you needed to?” the girl asked.

“Yes, I did,” he replied. He picked her up and put her on his shoulders, glad that he was not at risk of any of the crew to make fun of them as they slowly made their way to the port. Specifically him. And his “resting grumpface”. How did they keep coming up with the shit…? “Are you excited to go to Zou?”

“Yeah! I can’t wait to see everyone again! We’ll get to meet Bepo-ya’s family too! That’s important!”

“It is,” he agreed. Law then scowled as someone popped out from around a corner, cloak doing a terrible job at concealing their identity. “Viola-ya… what is it?”

“I just wanted to thank you both personally before you left,” Viola said, putting the hood of her cloak down. She gave the father and daughter a smile, loving the distinct difference between their temperaments. “You did more for Dressrosa than you realize.”

“We got rid of Uncle Doffy, which is pretty big,” Nauja grinned. “I’m gonna miss you, Viola-ya! You were really nice!”

“I’m honored to hear that, nena,” Viola smiled back. “If you and your father ever need a place to stay, the doors of the palace are open to our nation’s heroes.”

“We’re pirates; I don’t think you can get away with harboring pirates after a decade of Doflamingo pulling the strings,” Law stated. He paused, then blanched, realizing what he had said. “Your words have weight again, Viola-ya. Don’t waste them on our account.”

“Except I shall,” she insisted. She then pressed a kiss to his cheek, then pulled Nauja’s face down to kiss her forehead while Law was trying to not freak out. “You have an immunity-granting title and a solid roof for your heads and your crew waiting for whenever you wish.”

“Thank you, but we’ll have to decline,” Law blushed. “Now if you excuse us…” He then began to quickly walk away from Viola, who was not convinced in the slightest.

Maybe, if he walked quickly, he could pass off his embarrassment for being winded. Yeah, that was it. He was winded from carrying Nauja—not that he couldn’t, of course. It was just that his strength was still coming back. He was fine. They were fine. Everyone was fine… fuck. Viola was fine.

“Are you alright, Vaor?” Nauja asked. “You’re walking really fast…”

“Not a word,” he warned. She shrugged at that, just glad she was with him again.

Yeah… it was a very good thing that the crew wasn’t there, or he’d never hear the end of it.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

As the Straw Hat Fleet dispersed and the Going Luffy-sempai took its precious cargo towards Zou, there was one particular guest who was more than a bit curious about their new accommodations. It was a long ride still yet to come and the questions had yet to stop.

“Chicken-ya, why does the prow look like that?” Nauja wondered, pointing at the ship’s figurehead. Bartolomeo chuckled and blushed.

“Why, it’s only modeled aftah the greatest pirate t’come from mah Home Blue!” the green-haired man beamed. “Can’t’cha tell it’s Mistah Luffy?”

“Well, yeah, but, why?” Nauja hung half on the upper deck railing, looking at the floor below. She could see Law chatting quietly with Robin, books open between them and bodies close to touching. A flicker of hope stirred in her before she saw Franky bring them both drinks and sit with them—Robin rewarded the cyborg with a quick kiss to the lips as he slotted in on the other side of her. Oh well…

“Ah, it might not be sumthin that needs age t’understand,” Bartolomeo shrugged empathically. “See, Mistah Luffy has been such an inspiration t’me and mah crew that he was the only choice!”

“Still seems kinda weird,” Nauja noted. “He’s, you know… a person…”

“Yeah! A great one!”

“The crew knows that Vaor’s great, but the figurehead of the ship isn’t him.”

“Youse all ride in a ship that don’t need a figurehead! Besides, yer dad woiks so well with Mistah Luffy and the rest o’ the Straw Hats that it might seem a bit weird.”

“You’re still weird, Chicken-ya,” Nauja frowned. She tried to figure out a new subject to change to, but was having a difficult time. Bartolomeo wasn’t very smart, or very clever, but he was still an adult, so hopefully there was something… “Have you been to Zou?”

“Nope, but I gotta help spread the woid of Mistah Luffy’s role in Dressrosa!” he beamed. “Can’t’cha imagine it? This beauty of a ship, spreading the Straw Hats’ influence? A dream come true!”

“Strawhat-ya’s nice, but…” It was no use—Bartolomeo couldn’t hear her over his own imagination.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

It was wonderful as the Dressrosa contingent was reunited with their crewmates and friends on Zou. There were hugs, there were tears, there was an abundant amount of food for a party.

What there wasn’t, however, was a certain chef that hailed from the North Blue by way of the East, willfully abducted to keep the rest of those on Zunesha’s back safe.

A pirate’s work was never done.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

A/N: Thanks for reading! The story continues in chapter four of fly little seagull, the world awaits! Read it on tumblr, FFN, or AO3!

[cybernaght]

Guardian rewatch: episode 10

The tone of this recap is going to be the crackiest so far. The production quality plummets dramatically here, in a way which is as unintentionally hilarious as it is endearing. I have very little of import to say on events of this episode, and there is nothing much for me to hyper focus on, so a lot of this write-up are snark and bad jokes. Apologies in advance. I would not be getting annoyed at a show I did not care about. 

Day two of the Road Trip starts with Zhao Yunlan waking up with a splitting headache and his own jacket draped carefully over him. I choose to believe Shen Wei left it there. 

Zhao Yunlan wakes up - and discovers that Wang Zheng had slipped a sedative into the party’s water, effectively knocking them all out. He even discovers that she left her doll-body behind as a decoy; thankfully, it’s still Li Siqi and not the blow-up doll from the previous episode. 

With the daunting realisation that he’s been betrayed, Zhao Yunlan instantly spirals into hurt and anger, and this is the moment Shen Wei chooses to appear out to nowhere. He enters offering comfort, his entire focus on making Zhao Yunlan feel better by assuring the man that his subordinate is not one of the bad guys, but rather one of the self-sacrificing ones. How SID manages to function when it’s full of people with non-existent sense of self-preservation is beyond me. 

“Professor Shen, why are you okay?”

Zhu Hong narrows her eyes. Zhao Yunlan’s look is the one of vulnerability, not suspicion, almost as if he is silently asking to please not be betrayed by his newest partner.

“I didn’t drink the water she gave me.”

Another thing I would like to question here is the reasoning behind Shen Wei waiting until the morning with this. He knew that Wang Zheng was about to do something, since he refrained from drinking the water she offered. Everyone else being unconscious would be a perfect opportunity for him to go full Hei Pao Shi on her, or follow her quietly, or do literally anything but wait for the morning. 

“What is your purpose of coming here?” Shen Wei asks because he needs to know how much Zhao Yunlan knows. He does so with a perfect set of puppy eyes. 

We cut to Wang Zheng entering the chamber which houses the pillar/totem, and witness the absolute devastation of her hearing her love’s voice for the first time in a century, as he mistakes her for the enemy and calls her a rat.

I should say that while I’m not always on board with Li Siqi in this show, props to her for acting her heart out opposite a literal pillar. Her reunion with Sang Zan is incredibly touching; she really is wonderful here.

Flashback 1. The execution of Ge Lan. 

This method of execution seems so inefficient, I actually tried to find if it has any legs in history. As my research yielded exactly no results, I am guessing this is the producers showing hanging without actually showing hanging. They kind of accidentally made the whole affair infinitely worse. People are weaker than gravity, the angle offers no possibility of the neck being broken, so this would be a very slow, and very painful death. Yikes, is all I can say. 

Flashback 2. The montage. 

Sigh.

This imagery is so carelessly contemporary it’s killing me. I’m not saying it’s completely impossible for the heart shape to have been known to represent love in this fictional tribe on a fictional planet. I’m just saying it’s a boring shorthand for romance, made worse by the fact that so much of the show’s imagery is otherwise fairly intelligent. I am not angry, I’m just disappointed.

Wang Zheng and Sang Zan’s reunion triggers another earthquake, which is felt all the way back in the village, and shortly thereafter Zhu Jiu interrupts the couple, knocking Wang Zheng out. This - her being knocked unconscious - cuts to Zhao Yunlan wincing while clutching at his temples, which almost implies that he can feel it when his people are in danger. Which would be very cool if true. 

Shen Wei, in the meanwhile is remarkably good at keeping his Professor’s mask on the whole time, offering enough information without betraying his own knowledge or motives, but it is clear by now that Zhao Yunlan starts to see right through it. 

The chief sprints into action when Chu Shuzhi and Guo Changcheng arrive, instructing the two to join him in investigation. Shen Wei opens his mouth to volunteer to come with, but ends up hesitating before saying anything out loud. 

Zhu Hong, too, makes a move to go after the three men, but is firmly instructed to say behind and look after Shen Wei. She proceeds to loudly explain that this is the wrong time and place to be fussing over this guy. 

Shen Wei looks like he has no idea what to do with this display of emotion. 

Zhao Yunaln whispers to Zhu Hong to watch the professor for him: which could equally be him manipulating the Yashou into staying, or a sinking realisation that Shen Wei will actually try to join them either way, or genuine desire to find out what the professor will do next. Or, indeed, a combination of the above. Zhu Hong will attack her task with conviction. 

Sure enough, Shen Wei finally voices his desire to go with the group. Zhu Hong reminds him that he has his own people to look after and instructs him to return to the house with barely contained resentment. 

Shen Wei will predictably try to sneak out very shortly afterwards, and will be, equally predictably, caught by Zhu Hong. Why the man who can teleport would not just teleport out of the house before proceeding on foot is anyone’s guess. 

“He surprisingly views you as a good friend”, says Zhu Hong when she stops Shen Wei from leaving. “You surely noticed it, right?”

He certainly did, although he will always have trouble realising that he is actually cared about in a way which is anything but casual. 

Shen Wei obediently sits down and follows Zhu Hong’s instructions as she attempts to hypnotise him. Those instructions are anything but subtle. 

“Professor Shen, look at the flame closely”.

Meanwhile, the other party has successfully deduced the location of the Hanga tribe cave/shrine, and heads there, only to find no visible entrance. Thankfully, gaining access to the mountain is not particularly hard for the party. Mostly because this part of the mountain is made of foam.

This is where I want to metaphorically pat Guardian on its non-existent head, cooing, “Oh, Guardian. Baby. What have you done.”

On the bright side, this is also where Guo Changcheng accidentally shocks Zhao Yunlan with the Fear Stick, and Chu Shuzhi literally gives him a thumbs up. Those two are a duo for the ages. 

Youchu appear to fight our heroes, and after the first wave is eliminated, Zhao Yunlan decides to go inside, leaving the other two fend them off near the entrance. Considering that the beasts are all hiding inside the cave, rushing in without backup seems incredibly ill advised. Zhao Yunlan instructs Chu Shuzhi and Guo Changcheng to run away if the danger becomes too great. Which he must know surely that they would never do: his department does not leave people behind, and his subordinates will never abandon him. 

To no one’s surprise, the cave is crawling with Youchu. Zhao Yunlan goes on the offensive, kicking the feet out of the monster, but failing to incapacitate it. I am going to do my best to ignore how the scale of the beast fluctuates as it falls down, and focus on Bai Yu’s excellent reaction when his character realises that he is about to very much die.

Luckily for our protagonist, Hei Pao Shi sends a ward his way with a note, warning him of the danger ahead and ordering him to return. Zhao Yunlan makes no move to do as instructed and uses the upper hand he’s gained on the Youchu to get out his gun. Before he can fire however, he once more experiences the painful flashback of the devastation this gun carries, and freezes.

This is when Shen Wei shows up in person, jumping in front of the gun and gutting the beast.

The jumping in front of the gun part of the action is sweet, because it indicates, albeit indirectly, the absolute trust Shen Wei must have in Zhao Yunlan’s instincts, knowing that the man will not accidentally shoot him in the back. 

The gutting itself happens in reverse grip, with Shen Wei being easily within reach of the beast’s long stabby claws, and as such really questionable to me in terms of logic. I would have not minded it if he had been moving through the space in front of the beast, slicing it while passing through. That would be at least an indicator of both speed and dexterity enough to make me believe Shen Wei made a clever avoidance of the claws. But he doesn’t: he just materialises dead-on in front of the monster and the later just.. lets itself be killed. 

Let’s just say that maybe the beast is supposed to be deliberately slow here, and park the long essay in regards to the bladework until the next episode. 

“Chief Zhao, are you alright?”

Everything about Hei Pao Shi in this moment screams of Shen Wei-ness. Well, maybe not the sword. But the obvious concern, the tone of voice, the general air: it’s all Shen Wei. It’s remarkable that Zhao Yunlan does not see it. Or maybe, I suppose, he does, without even realising it. His cheeky grin suddenly appears; the corners of his eyes crinkle, as he goes into a very long-winded, almost flirtatious away about thanking Hei Pao Shi, teasing him for not always arriving on time. 

Unperturbed, Shen Wei chides Zhao Yunlan for not listening to his warning, and Zhao Yunlan defends himself in a very playful kind of manner, adding that he’s not leaving his people behind. To Shen Wei, this is to be expected, so instead of arguing he goes into a lot of detail on how the road ahead is dangerous, as if he is not really expecting Zhao Yunlan to accept help. 

He is wrong of course: proud though he may be, Chief Zhao knows when he is outgunned and outnumbered, and only grins, happy for the Envoy to join him on his mission. 

Shen Wei and Zhao Yunlan exploring the cave is interspersed with pretty damn harrowing scenes of Zhu Jiu torturing Wang Zheng as her trapped lover screams for mercy. It’s a lot; in fact it’s so much even the cave ghosts attempt to intervene, because while they may be very much pro-murder, they are evidently anti-torture. 

As the two keep exploring, they bump into another three of the beasts, which Shen Wei slays in three slick moves. It’s actually pretty cool, despite slightly sketchy teleportation effects.

“Wow!”

(Apparently, this “wow” made Zhu Yilong corpse so much he nearly laughed his mask off. Which sounds adorable)

Shen Wei proceeds to inquire Zhao Yunlan about the gun, party to confirm that it is indeed the dark energy weapon he knows, and partly having noticed that the other man failed to fire it. I wonder how many times Zhao Yunlan froze in the past, considering how easily he once again slips into his mask of playful deflection, claiming that he never planned to fire the gun at all. It’s almost tragic how this person keeps feeling like he needs to prove his own capabilities over and over again. 

Interestingly enough, in this particular case Hei Pao Shi actually does own up to a weakness. It’s calculated: he knows this is something Zhao Yunlan must already be aware of, but still, “full disclosure” is not something Shen Wei usually does when it comes to his own capacities. 

What he admits to, on the other hand, does not seem very consistent with the rest of the show. He says that he can only use half of his power above ground, which - okay. But he also states that he can’t spend a lot of time here, and I am a little bit… confused? He lives above ground. He spends absolute majority of his time here. I really don’t want to think of this as a writing inconsistency, so please let me know what I have missed; I’ll appreciate it. 

Hearing the admission, Zhao Yunlan grows serious for once, asking which they they should be going next. Shen Wei barely smothers a smug smirk seconds before he scries the surroundings with unbelievable panache.

Show off

Unfortunately, his search does not yield any result, as whatever readings he is getting are muddled by the Hallow. Luckily for them, and to Shen Wei’s great dismay, Zhao Yunlan has the Dial on him which he is uses as a compass. 

Shen Wei’s wordless reaction conveys a million questions from “what the hell?” to “are you completely stupid?”

Instead of asking any of those things, he settles for a more neutral “I’ve told you not to use the Hallows.”

“You are very much like a friend of mine”, remarks Zhao Yunlan. 

Which is, incidentally, also the title of this episode. 

Even behind the mask it’s clear to see Shen Wei’s blind panic as he realises he may have just blown his cover sky high. Fortunately, Zhao Yunlan reads the reaction as bashfulness rather than existential despair, and laughs it off. 

Now that they know which way to go, they finally make it to the chamber which houses the pillar/totem, which now has Wang Zheng tied to it. 

This show sure does like tying their characters to totems containing souls of people significant to them, huh?

In all seriousness though, as parallels go, this one is… uh… unparalleled. 

(I am so very sorry.)

Zhao Yunlan makes a move towards his trapped subordinate, but Hei Pao Shi, again in a way which is extremely Shen Wei-like, grabs at his arm, stopping him in his tracks. 

Zhao Yunlan obediently halts, and calls Zhu Jiu out, correctly guessing that the Undergrounder lured them here deliberately. Shen Wei, on the other hand, relays in a hushed tone information what he had observed so far: namely, that the Hallow stored here is the Dire Awl, and that something is incredibly fishy about Wang Zheng.

As he does so, he is staring at Zhao Yunlan’s lips. It is neither the time, nor the place, but hey, I’m not complaining.

They have a brief discussion about the next moves, in which Shen Wei just says he would like to try something, and Zhao Yunlan nods, letting him do it without asking for any details. 

Flashback 3: the Backstory. 

We hear the full tragic tale of Ge Lan and Sang Zan: how they met, representatives of the warring sides of the conflict, two people from two different worlds; how their love did not stop the awful bloodshed; how it could not be enough to overpower the politics; how it lead to Ge Lan’s death, and, finally, how Sang Zan could not bring her back to him. They hear how the man changed once he lost the only person he cared about. 

Zhao Yunlan is visibly moved by this story, recognising echoes of it in himself. 

“The most basic dignity of a man is to ensure that the person in his heart stays safe. If the person I love gets destroyed in my own hands ruined under the system I established myself, it’s very likely I’ll hate these people more than I hated the former tribe leader.”

How much did he harden after his mother was taken away from him? How much of his initial hatred of all those from the Underground stems from that day? And, of course, how much will it break him when he will not be gifted this dignity in his own future? 

Shen Wei is near vibrating with how much his very soul resonates with the tale he has just heard. He, who has met someone from the other world, who was lost that person, is visibly weighed down by his own memories.

“That’s right. Even if they’re cut into a myriad of pieces, the hatred would be hard to dissolve.”

Zhao Yunlan stares at the other man, astounded, wondering what hardships and losses the Envoy endured in his long and eventful life, as the episode draws to a close.

And I am left here trying to soothe my aching heart, bruised once more by this show’s relentless fatalism. 

Next up, episode 11: Oh Boy Do I Have Sword Opinions 

---

Notes. 

Look. It’s been a long week okay. Besides, I am basically marathoning my way through Zhu Yilong’s entire filmography. 

The normal service in terms of analysis will hopefully resume next week. 

[asterekmess]

honestly, my fury at the lack of werewolf culture/history/worldbuilding is worthy of its own post. Let me know if by some ungodly chance, you actually wanna hear my thoughts on it // Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!

ohmygod yes, pls, enable me.

SO.

I think I mentioned b4 that Teen Wolf hates werewolves.

This is a show about werewolves like, yeah, sure, they do other plots and stuff. But the main character is a werewolf. The vast majority of the cast are werewolves (at least in the first half of the show). But think about it. What do we actually know about werewolves? They uhh, they shift on the full moon. But like, what about the full moon? Cus’ Scott gets handcuffed to a radiator and he doesn’t shift and break out until the moon comes out from behind the clouds and he screams like it’s excruciatingly painful for him. But then Derek and his Betas are underground during their full moon, and they shift like it’s all fine and dandy (they’re furious, but there’s no pain) and it doesn’t matter whether they can see the moon or not. They, uhh, they’re allergic to wolfsbane/it’s poisonous to them (btw it’s poisonous to literally everyone, just the scent of it is enough to cause seizures and hallucinations in humans. It’s a whole other frustration that they won’t make up their fucking minds abt it. It’s one thing to say that this is some parallel universe where wolfsbane doesn’t poison humans (bc lydia makes them hallucinate with the punch but injesting that much wolfsbane should kill you, and Stiles straight pulls a plant out of the ground; should’ve caused itching, burning, a cough, nausea, fever, headache and More hallucinations) and yet Jackson has to see a doctor and gets told he’s got Aconite Poisoning. So WHAT IS THE TRUTH?) but apparently not enough for Derek not to be able to plant a wolfsbane plant and massive cord of roots (which he would’ve had to tie together himself) in a revenge spiral around Laura’s body. But just being around it causes wolves to lose control. But also there’s supposed to be different strains that do different things? And also sometimes you burn the wolfsbane and it becomes the cure, or you have to burn it out of them or you just cut it out of them? Make UP Your MIND or at least ACKNOWLEDGE that different strains do different things. They get stronger on a full moon. But does that mean they get infinitely stronger with every full moon they experience? Does that mean they get weaker during new moons? They’re stronger in packs. Okay, but they never establish what the fuck a pack is. Is it an agreement? Is it a magical bond? Scott just sort of says people are in his pack. Does that mean they are? Do the humans he knows make him stronger? Just how strong is this bond? Derek makes a claim that “You have your own pack now” so is that a joke, was he mocking scott? Or is he saying that there’s no need for an Alpha and just being a beta with some friends counts as a pack? Apparently they have some kind of...animal magnetism or mind control? Derek uses a funny voice and a guy wakes up from a near coma to look at him with seemingly no control. Peter can force Scott to shift up. Derek forces Isaac to shift down. Derek has an insane amount of control over dogs and makes one lose its fucking mind from like a hundred feet away? Scott makes one calm down, but derek sends attack dogs running with their tails between their legs. Is it actual control or is it just a persuasion? Is it just intimidation? I haven’t even gotten to culture. You’re telling me that we get an entire episode of Allison discovering the entire story behind the Argent clan’s origins as werewolf hunters, why they started, how her name means Silver and apparently that’s where the entire myth of silver hurting werewolves comes from, but we don’t get to know anything about the first werewolves? Where they come from? If they’re a form of evolution or just straight magic or if it’s a curse or a gift from the gods? There’s an entire hidden werewolf population with packs all over the world, but somehow there’s literally no wolf culture? No moon worship? No specific terminology (Alpha, Beta, and Omega are terms used by a really fucking stupid biologist who studied frantic wolves in captivity and cast aspersions on the entire species. He’s been disproven a Thousand Times. NONE of that Alpha, Beta, Omega shit is right. Packs aren’t Hierarchies of Dominance. They’re families. They’re led by two wolves, yes, an “alpha pair” that’s literally JUST THE PARENTS. THE ‘BETAS’ ARE THEIR KIDS. This terminology makes sense if used by HUNTERS who consider werewolves to be mindless dumb animals. WHY THE FUCK would werewolves use it to DESCRIBE THEMSELVES?) besides the absolute minimum of ‘I caught a scent?’ Are you serious? Then there’s werewolf ages. Oh my god that was so fucking lazy. Saying that werewolves don’t age like humans, but that Cora is seventeen “by human standards” WHAT DOES THAT MEAN? I’ve seen theories that go so many different ways. The idea that Werewolves live really long lives because of the superhealing. The idea that they live really short lives because their healing just burns through their body really quickly. The idea that their lifespan is directly correlated to the amount of damage they take because they can only heal so much, so wolves who get hurt a lot age faster than wolves who don’t. There’s NO explanation! You’d think it might be an interesting point for Scott to find out that he’s gonna live to fucking 200 years old. (How old is Satomi again?) That sounds like something a Teenager would be daunted by. We see them make fun of Stiles a few times because he believes werewolf myths about silver, and then because he believes Peter when Peter tells him he lives in a series of underground caves. But like...why not? THESE ARE WEREWOLVES why did you just make them humans with extra facial hair? Where are the traditional mating rituals (or even the concept of a mate/life partner, can you imagine how interesting that would’ve been? If Scott found out Allison was his mate? Or if he suddenly had all these weird urges around her, like rubbing their foreheads together or cuddling her way too much or wanting to bring her food? That would’ve been fascinating and hilarious as subplots for their romance!) where are the full moon runs or pack get-togethers? Where are the aversions to perfumes or cologne? Where are literally any animal behaviors besides AGGRESSION? Where is the den-making? Can werewolves eat fast food or does the grease bug them? Talia was a famous Alpha bc she could full shift. Does anyone know why she could do that? “Evolution” is a bullshit answer, let’s be real. It’s shitty writing and it put Derek through so much more than he deserved. THEY ACCIDENTALLY ESTABLISHED that ALL HALES can full-shift! IT’s NOT EVOLUTION. It’s BIRTHRIGHT. Talia fullshifted. Peter full-shifted (though his was distorted into the monster thingy. That wasn’t anything like Deucalion’s shift. It was a FULL SHIFT) Laura could full shift bc she did it after she died. No other werewolves on the show turned into full wolves after death, even if they died with wolfsbane in their system? MALIA could full-shift into a coyote. LITERALLY EVERY HALE except Cora and that’s bc she got booted back to South America COuld FULL SHIFT (and it never happened after they lost all of their wolf powers, that coud’ve been an interesting plot if they didn’t FUCK IT UP.) But still there’s no explanation, or even just acknowledgement? You don’t have to spell it out for us, but at least SAY “Hey, so the Hale family is really powerful and all of us can full-shift. Not sure why, but it’s neat.) I’m still stuck on rituals. Routines. Werewolf mores. Social cues. Are there certain smells they’re supposed to ignore? Is it polite to pretend you don’t hear someone coming up to your house until they knock? Do they have rules about waiting until the Alpha eats before they start eating (much like how lots of traditional households wait for the father to dig in, or whoever is head of household)? Is it tradition to homeschool werewolves for the first few years until they learn control? Are there seriously no rules about biting humans? You don’t have to talk to their parents or have a specific conversation with them? And if werewolves are so dominance/hierarchy based, then you’re telling me there’s no “second-in-command” or respectful greetings that are supposed to be used for an Alpha? There’s absolutely no form of werewolf government or ancient laws or anything except a big spiral that is universally recognized as a sign you’re gonna kill people? What was the wolfsbane around Laura’s body for? Why make the spiral out of that instead of just drawing in the dirt or something? We make a lot of jokes about Derek being bad with his words, but so is Peter and so is Cora. And they’re the only born wolves we interact with (except Satomi who ALSO isn’t a chatterbox) What if that’s not just because they’re all traumatized and cranky? What if they’re just speaking on a different level? Scents and body language are integral to wolf interaction. Like how we say that Peter has that conversation with Derek’s eyebrows? What if Derek’s so fucking pissed all the time because he hates talking to Scott because SCott ISN”T LISTENING to his body language and scent and chemosignals? He tells Scott to use all his senses, and Scott does it fucking once to say that Peter felt “Angry” and never again. What if Derek is Talking PLENTY (with his body and movements and reactions) but Scott just isn’t paying attention? Isaac seems to understand Derek just fine. Erica and Boyd never complain that Derek is lying to them or ‘keeping something’ from them? What if the reason Scott always thinks Derek’s hiding something is because he isn’t reading the rest of Derek’s conversation and he assumes that the empty feeling is Derek lying. Even STILES seems to understand Derek. He’s human, but he goes totally wolfy. He already uses body language a lot and while he gets mad at Derek he never has to ask what the fuck derek is saying or what he’s holding back. I digress. I wanna know why no other packs came to help Derek and Laura after their family died. I wanna know why Emissaries and Druids are so incredibly important to the supernatural/werewolf world but Derek barely knew they existed (Especially when it’s established that he know tons of lore about other species.) and even though every single pack should have an emissary, they never handle who is the emissary for Derek’s pack or for Scott’s pack (Once again, is an emissary bound to their pack somehow or is it just an agreement?). I wanna know why Derek knew Satomi and trusted her but for some reason never felt like he could ask her for help? Centuries of hiding and living amongst humans with almost no wolf behavior to their name, but none of these packs interact? There’s Druid Vets and Hunter cops and Emissary counselors. But no werewolf doctors? No werewolf teachers? Absolutely no werewolf society? If Derek was worried about Paige not accepting that he was a werewolf unless she became one, what does that say about his experience with humans? He says “there were people in my family that were perfectly ordinary in that house” who died in the fire. But wouldn’t he talk to a human pack member about his worries, if he had one? Or even a bitten pack member? He admits he doesn’t know how to train a Bitten wolf. He’s never been called out by a human pack member for using phrases like ‘caught a scent’ or for reacting to things he shouldn’t. Does this mean Derek’s family was entirely werewolves? No humans in the know? No bitten wolves? He has a huge thing about keeping the secret and never letting anyone in on it unless they get dragged into it. Did Derek’s pack have some kind of prejudice against humans? Was Derek raised to believe humans were weak or cowardly or something, that he thought this beautiful girl would automatically hate him and expose him if she were to discover the supernatural without being forced into silence by self-preservation.

Lots of times, it’s easy to forget in this fandom that so much is missing, because we’ve been filling in the gaps for so long that some stuff is practically canon. It’s generally assumed that the Hales were homeschooled before high school. It’s generally assumed that there’s some kind of bond that marks people as pack. We instinctively add in mentions of Scent and the use of the shift (growling, claws, a hint of fang, flashing eyes) as part of the casual communication between characters. We add in scent-marking and territory boundaries and specific roles in the pack. We do all of that and never think twice because it’s already in all the fic. But we did that. The show gave us nothing. It spent an entire season talking about the nogitsune and the oni and how they’re summoned and what kitsune fox tails are for, but we never got to find out why wolves can do the pain-drain (or even if it dissipates the pain or just transfers it to the wolf doing the draining) or if Derek Hale EVEN HAS A DAD.

[getofy]

matchup: #1 - hq boy w/ an extroverted fem reader!

—a/n: wow im genuinely so sorry for taking so long. literally school is ruining my life and i also um,, haven’t been doing the best this past month. i really hope this makes up for it !! it’s kinda long so my bad...also this is NOT proofread lol i apologize if it sucks aaaa.

DISCLAIMER: while this is a personalized matchup, they’re still headcanons, so basically anyone can enjoy them! :]

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hello @/meremoomoo ! you are so cute and tysm for being patient about ur request. i debated who you would go well with for a while, but in the end i came up with...

SUGAWARA KŌSHI!

-

#SUGA: “YOU’RE PERFECT JUST THE WAY YOU ARE!”

#Y/N: “THANK YOU KŌSHI :].”

-

☆ SUGA IS PERFECT FOR YOU, AND HERE IS WHY—

PERSONALITY TYPE:

suga has a personality type of INFJ, which compliments your ENFP personality type well.

“...you may benefit from perseverance in this relationship. your sensitive, sympathetic nature may at times overtake you, leading you to make decisions that feel right but are not really the wisest option. this person, whose approach seems so cold at times, can help you to tune into your powers of objective reasoning and ensure that you are not letting emotions rule your life.” —some website i found

while INFJs are not the most compatible with ESFPs, your other personality type, wonderful things can still come out of INFJ/ESFP dynamics! 

“your differences mean that you actually have a lot to offer one another. your counterpart may inspire you to slow down and think more deeply about the meaning of things, rather than just doing what feels right in the moment. in turn, you can help them to get out of their heads and enjoy life for what it is.” —some website i found

HOW YOU GUYS MET:

sugawara and you did not start off on the right foot at first...

the two of you were in the same class and sat very close to each other so he decided that he really wanted to get to know you.

he also just really likes becoming friends w/ people lol

since you were always laughing loudly with your friends during break time, he deduced that you had a good sense of humor.

he decided that jokes seemed like the right way to get to your heart win you over!

easy enough, right?

wrong.

apparently, he had caught you on a bad day because his attempts to be friendly were not received well. at all.

poor suga.

he does his best to be kind to everybody, but at the same time, he does love to poke fun at others. he probably took one of his jokes too far or something?

or maybe you really were just having a bad day?

who knows.

anyways, after that awkward encounter, he did his best to avoid you.

it’s not that he hated you, it’s just that he thought you hated him. it sort of bummed him out because you seemed cool, but he wanted to be respectful of your feelings!

*sorry it’s not enemies to lovers, but it’s close enough i hope ?

HOW HE DISCOVERED HE LIKED YOU:

the class had finished testing early, so the teacher decided to put on a movie.

AND FOR SOME UNKNOWN REASON THE MOVIE WAS OLD YELLER?!!?!?

(basically it’s just an incredibly depressing dog movie. like, if you’ve never seen it then just imagine the saddest movie you’ve ever seen 10x)

anyways, you ended up crying. very loudly.

sugawara was incredibly concerned for you, since you seemed to be genuinely distraught, but he didn’t say anything

eventually, the teacher caught on to your disarray and excused you from the room so you could go calm yourself down.

after some time, the teacher tells suga to go check up on you to make sure ur not dead or whatever lol (you were taking a while).

he was hesitant to do this since he knew you weren’t too fond of him, but suga decides to do it anyways since he didn’t want to be a disobedient student.

he finds you sitting on a bench with tears streaming down your face

and MAN!!

all at once, suga gets this overwhelming urge to make you feel better. but like, as in, he-never-wants-to-see-you-in-this-kind-of-state again-otherwise-he-might-breakdown kind of urse.

despite not being super close to you, he had gotten so used to your large smiles and extroverted demeanor, that watching you cry felt foreign to him.

he missed your smile.

he soon realizes that seeing you upset hurts him because he genuinely cares about your well-being.

so he decides to make it his personal mission to make you smile again.

suga takes the spot next to you voicelesslyand tries his best to talk you through your dismay.

you don’t seem to mind the company, and to his delight you don’t seem to hate him as much as he thought you did!!

suga is very grateful for this

anyways, he manages to cheer you up, and the tips of your lips turn up into a small grin—just like he wanted them to.

AND BOY OH BOY WHEN THEY DO!!

whew this man’s heart skips a BEAT baby and he is lowkey spiraling lol he’s so confused like why is this girl’s smile making me feel some type of way

he had been so focused on what you thought about him, but he had never once stopped to consider what he thought about you (until this very moment, of course).

turns out suga was incredibly fond of you

yeah, that’s how he knew.

suga brain go brr 4 pretti girl

HOW HE CONFESSES:

you two had been hanging out more frequently as of late

and getting to know you was only making suga‘s crush grow EXPONENTIALLY

after many nights spent in long contemplation, he came to the conclusion that it was time to ‘man-up’ and just rip off the band-aid that was being honest about his feelings.

he buys a single flower (tanaka’s advice) and waits by your locker

very very simple and sweet confession typa beat :(

literally SO nervous pls help . he’s scratching the back of his neck and holding the flower out to you with a slight twinge in his cheeks.

“y/n...i know you weren’t too fond of me at first, but i...i don’t know i think we’re great together! and now that we hang out and stuff i was thinking that maybe we could-“

yeah you cut the poor boy off and said yes to put him out of his misery.

literally verbally celebrates when you accept his flower. does a lil victory dance and everything.

ugh yall r so cute.

AFTER HE CONFESSES:

YOU GUYS GET TOGETHER INSTANTLY WOOOOOO

somehow the most wholesome and chaotic couple to ever exist???

you guys spend like every waking moment together it’s adorable

noya and tanaka would jokingly hit on you and suga would pretend to be actually jealous.

i hc him as being a somewhat possessive-y boyfriend so do w that what you will

total best friend kind of lover but he’s also a sweetheart and rlly romantic + respectful abt ur needs:(

y’all r super comfy w each other !!

WHAT HE LOVES ABOUT YOU:

sugawara is usually the kind of person that’s always there for other people so he appreciates the fact that you’re the same way! you guys bond over your shared therapist/mom-friend tendencies, and quickly become the support systems you so desperately needed prior to getting together.

he’s there to listen to you about your problems and vice versa.

he adores how you can meet and sometimes even exceed his energy. it’s a nice change of pace since he usually gets scolded by daichi. </3

thinks it’s cute how much you care for animals! you’ll often find him staring at you in wonder as you pet a random dog on the street lol.

MISC HEADCANONS:

will spend hours on end watching you play video games on FaceTime. after a while, he ended up buying his own console and now you guys play together!

he’s fairly competitive, and will whine whenever you destroy beat him in a game!

he’s so cute pls

one of his favorite things to do after a long day is sit and play slower paced games such as minecraft and animal crossing with you.

whether it’s about your fav historical monument or about a new show you saw, suga will listen to you talk for hours and never get bored. usually he’s always got something to add to the convo though. sometimes you guys get overly excited together and end up speaking over each other in the same way.!

is INCREDIBLE at getting you to calm down?? like, if you ever need to be put in your place, suga knows exactly what to say to do it. does this make sense? lol. you guys have big ying and yang energy sometimes i feel.

you’re his BIGGEST supporter. whenever he’s put into games, you’re always the LOUDEST one cheering him one.

it really touches him to know that you’ll always be there to root for him!! even mr.refreshing gets down sometimes, so it’s incredible to have someone as positive as you by his side constantly reassuring him.

he’s a big animal person as well so you guys like going to volunteer at shelters together!

this was actually your second date HAHA.

if a dog is within a 40 ft radius from y’all, it is almost guaranteed that you guys will sprint to go pet them.

since you’re both athletic, you guys help each other practice sports together! suga’ll throw u soft toss and help you run drills and hype u up before games. & you’ll help him work on his technique and such <33.

y’all totally gossip together wow. you said you were a bit on the meaner side of the spectrum and lowkey he doesn’t mind AT ALL. he lives for it HAHAHAHA.

he literally thinks you’re stunning so it upsets him whenever you get insecure, but he’s always got the right thing to say to cheer you up! genuinely just,,,, so good with his words. if you’re having a bad night, he’s ready to come to your rescue with a gentle smile and funny one-liner and maybe a documentary if you’re lucky enough.

in his eyes, everything about you is beautiful. your hair. your freckles. your body. your laugh. your smile. everything!! he’s going to do whatever it takes for you to love yourself in the same way he loves you.

this man so whipped smh 🙄🙄

tl;dr: suga thinks you hate him. you don’t. you start hanging out. he confesses to you by the lockers. you start dating. you are infinitely better at gaming than he is and will never let him forget it.

YOUR ANTHEMS (in no particular order):

darling by christian leave

pleasantries (with your lover) by mustard service

upside down by jack johnson

sunflower, vol.6 by harry styles

what do you like in me? by nasty cherry

MOODBOARD:

pic 1 | pic 2 | pic 3 | pic 4

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—CONGRATS! YOU’VE WON THE HEART OF ONE OF THE PRETTIEST SETTERS ON THE BLOCK. TREAT HIM WELL! ☆

*do not repost my work without proper credit and my explicit premission

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[deniigi]

anyways the discord has fucked me up 6 ways to hell.

Have some Sam/Ned/Peter/Johnny/MJ

Because we couldn’t pick a ship and we discovered Sam/Ned, and now we’re all devastated by it.

Title: Anenome’s an Enemy

Summary: The polycule welcomes Sam into its ranks.

Notes: So the polycule consists of Ned, Peter and MJ who are all romantically involved and established. Peter is also in an on/off relationship with Johnny, but Johnny is just friends with Ned and MJ. Oh. And these are Inimitable Verse characters.

--

It started with Ned and MJ reading the texts from the groupchat in order to psychoanalyze Peter’s teammates.

This was not new.

Peter let them read the bullshit fairly regularly. It was only fair that they got to see what he was giggling about.

What was new was Ned asking who BT was.

Peter had thought that they’d met at Matt and Foggy’s wedding, but Ned couldn’t remember Sam being there, and, to be fair, Peter had noticed that Sam had an extraordinary ability to blend himself into the background when there were multiple people having a conversation.

MJ barely remembered Sam, too, for that reason precisely, so Peter asked Sam if he could send a selfie ‘for the home team to admire.’

Sam said that he wasn’t comfortable with that.

It was super surprising.

Peter apologized for asking and Sam waved it off, saying that he just didn’t know how to take selfies for anyone besides his sister and friends and he just didn’t want to screw it up. Which was code for ‘I am actually really fucking uncomfortable with this whole thing; please don’t ask me why I’m saying no.’

Peter dropped it.

MJ didn’t forget about it, though, and so he had to explain that Blindspot was a little camera shy.

Ha.

Get it?

Because Blindspot?

Ned told him that it was kind of weird that Sam didn’t want to take a picture for him when he was cool taking them for his other friends; MJ said that it was probably because he didn’t want her and Ned to see his face and Ned relented a little bit.

“We’ve already met him, though?” he pointed out. “Surely that was worse in this scenario?”

Well. In Sam’s world, it was probably better, actually, Peter thought. In real life, he could smile and duck out of sight and stay out of range. A picture was forever.

“He’s probably got a reason,” MJ continued. “Or his folks were probably those ‘put it on the internet and it never goes away’ types.”

Uh.

Probably?

“I think,” Peter said quietly, because he didn’t actually know—because Sam never actually said the words out loud—“That he might be undocumented?”

He got two sets of eyes his way immediately.

“Oh,” Ned said. “That’s completely understandable then.”

“Yikes,” MJ said. “Does he need help? I’ve got some stuff saved if he needs legal stuff.”

No. No, Peter thought that Sam probably knew more about his situation than any of them did. He knew what kind of help he needed and he might take offense at links or brochures passed his way, so he shrugged and told the others that Sam probably had the situation under control.

The other two dropped the subject after saying that the next time Sam was in the area, they should all get dinner or something.

Peter extended this invite to Sam and got back a simple ‘thanks 🙂’.

Sam didn’t talk to him for the rest of the week.

 --

 At about week two of radio silence in the chat and in personal texts, Peter asked Matt if he’d overstepped.

Matt didn’t answer the question. What he said was that, as far as he could tell, Sam was okay at work and in their training. He noted that Sam went through cycles of being very open and chatty and then withdrawing into himself for days and weeks at a time. He left it at that.

He didn’t say ‘he has been violently reminded about all the shit he can’t do and is protecting himself from you and your ilk.’

He didn’t say that.

But Peter still felt it.

 --

 SM: hey BT, hope you’re okay. Didn’t mean to overstep the other day. Sorry about that. Let me know if you need anything.

BT: I’m okay

BT: I’ll let you know.

BT: ❤

 --

 MJ told Peter that he was blowing things out of proportion.

“If Matt says he goes through cycles, then he goes through cycles, Peter,” She scolded. “Matt can’t lie for shit. Not about people he cares about.”

…Right.

But what if—

What if—

“I just feel like shit because I don’t know how to make him feel better,” Peter admitted. “I feel like I broke his trust or something.”

“He’s not not talking to you,” MJ said. “He’s just not info-dumping. And you don’t know his life, it might not have been you making him feel bad. The world doesn’t revolve around you and your mistakes, you know.”

Right, right.

Yeah, he knew.

 --

 PP: hey matt did I fuck up?

MM: ?

PP: I think I fucked up. can you tell Sam I’m really really sorry?

MM: Sammy’s fine?

MM: He’s discovered jalapeño Cheetos and he and foggy are making my life hell.

MM: they’re both very cheerful right now.

MM: did something happen?

PP: I think so? I asked him for a picture a while ago for Ned and MJ and he hasn’t spoken to me in 2 weeks. I mean like really spoken. I said sorry but I’m not getting back more than 5 word responses

MM: ah

MM: he’s okay Peter

PP: is he really tho??

MM: lol

MM: yeah buddy he’s okay

PP: what is ‘lol???’

MM: lol

PP: Matt.

MM: I’m a confidante I cannot say. But it is very cute.

PP: ????

PP: Matt I’m spiraling

PP: can you just like tell me I haven’t single handedly ruined our friendship?

MM: HA

PP: MATT

MM: no can do. You’ll have to ask him, friend.

PP: god when did you turn into such a dad?

MM: when I got all these fuckin kids I didn’t ask for. Fuck off squirt

PP: I hate you too

MM: ❤

 --

 Johnny held Peter’s face between two palms and told him he was being a dramatic piece of shit and it was Johnny’s turn this month.

Johnny was offended.

Peter made sad sounds at him until he relented and agreed to come sit at the table with MJ to psychoanalyze all Peter’s Bad Friend behaviors.

Johnny did not like to sit at the table with MJ, mostly because MJ kept stabbing him with her eyes, but he came along and gave Ned a big hug in the doorway.

MJ stabbed him with her eyes for that, too.

Johnny paged through the texts Peter had screenshotted and printed out and tossed on the table with a collection of pens and after a while, blinked once and jerked his head up suddenly to stare into MJ’s eyes.

MJ glared at him languidly.

Peter sat on his hands, all highlighters and pen privileges having been revoked after the second guilt spiral two minutes ago, and looked between them, back and forth.

They said nothing to him.

They spoke only in narrowing eyes and squirming eyebrows.

Peter hated when they did shit like this.

“Peter,” MJ finally said after a good three minutes of awkward silence. “When you went back west to stay with Matt and Fogs, where did you stay?”

Where?

Well, their house?

“Where in their house?” MJ asked like she already knew the answer. She tangled a hand into her hair in exasperation. Johnny brought both hands up to his face to hide a huge smile.

Wh—

Where?

In the house?

Well, Angel and Louis had taken the couch and Ellie and Wade had been in the guest bedroom, so he’d stayed in Sam’s room with him.

Ned sighed loudly from the couch. His typing slowed down as he slouched lower and lower into the cushions.

Peter didn’t get it.

Why was everyone staring at him?

“Buddy,” Johnny said kindly. “You’re so fucking stupid, you make me look smart.”

“You are smart,” Peter said. “Why am I stupid?”

MJ held out her hand for his phone. He gave it to her without question.

 --

 PP: hey matt its MJ.

PP: does Sam have a crush on Peter?

MM: I don’t know MJ, does he?

 --

 MJ held the phone up to Peter’s face while Johnny shriek-giggled into his palms.

Peter felt a little like jelly.

All wobbly and shit.

“He likes me?” he blurted out.

MJ blinked slowly. Johnny pounded a fist against the table, wheezing.

“He thinks you want a picture for your friends,” he said. “He thinks you’ve friendzoned him. Oh my god. Peter.”

WHAT WHAT WHAT

“Give me that,” Peter said, snatching his phone.

 --

 PP: matt this is peter this is not a drill

PP: he likes me??? Like likes-likes? Or just likes?

MM: why do you children keep asking me stupid questions?

MM: ask each other stupid questions

 --

 No.

“What do I do?” Peter asked the other two.

Johnny hummed and poked at his chin. MJ leaned over towards the couch with an outstretched hand. Ned took it in a show of moral support.

Once she’d powered back up, MJ turned back to Peter with infinite patience.

“Do you like him too?” she asked.

Did he—did he like Sam?

Well, obviously he liked Sam. Sam was funny and brilliant and always down to get in a bit of trouble. He was sensitive to others and he picked himself back up every time shit hit him.

He was warm.

His energy was warm. And welcoming. And he seemed to constantly be fighting that.

But he was Matt’s. Not in that way.

Like, he was Matt’s apprentice. Functionally, he was Matt’s apprentice, but actually, even back when Peter had just met him, he’d known that Sam was more than that to Matt.

Sam denied it. Matt denied it. But they were very, very close. Closer than Peter had been allowed to be with Matt.

Matt would fight to the death for Peter, Peter knew this; there had been a few close calls over the years. But Matt gave off this weird vibe with Sam.

It was a buzz. Peter felt it low in his neck. Humming.

The Spidey Sense didn’t like Matt being behind him when Peter was with Sam. It thought he was a threat.

And that? That was not normal. Matt had stood behind Peter for more than a decade and never, not once, had the Spidey Sense reacted that way to him.

Peter had told Wade about it and Wade’s eyes had softened. He’d clasped Peter’s shoulder and said that he was ‘touched as hell,’ which Peter didn’t understand at first.

He kind of got it more now.

Sam was Matt’s. What he was exactly wasn’t super clear. But Matt was willing and ready not just to die, but potentially to torture, for Sam and he didn’t fucking like anyone being too close to him—especially not another vigilante.

Sam was off limits.

Touch him and suffer the consequences.

That message was loud and clear.

So even if Peter thought that Sam was warm and brilliant and so easy to sink into, it didn’t matter.

Johnny and MJ and Ned considered this by drumming fingers on noses and chins and making humming sounds.

“Red seems okay with BT having a crush on you, though?” Johnny said. “He’s joking about it, after all. Maybe he just doesn’t want you to make the first move? You do kind of have a track record, Peter.”

That made a lot of sense actually.

“So what, I have to wait for Sam to say something or to get over me?” Peter asked.

“Pretty much,” MJ said. “Unless anyone else has a better idea?”

No one did.

Man, bummer.

 --

 Sam came back into contact a few days later like nothing had happened. He was concerned about definitions of seals. He needed people to help him work through them. Evidently, Matt, Foggy, and Kirsten hadn’t done the job.

Matt said nothing about no one, which was infuriating as always.

And so it went.

 --

 BT: heyyyyyyyyyyyyy peter

SM: lol hey you what’s up?

BT: m drunk

SM: oh word?

BT: Leilani told me no to taext no one butttttt I hate meself so here we are

SM: Leilani?

BT: fremd

SM: dude red said you finish all your girlfriends drinks?

BT: is my scared duty

BT: scared

BT: sacred

SM: sam you’re like 140 pounds

BT: 😘

SM: okay sure I’m proud of you. how many did you chug

BT: hey teach says that you’re a people eater is that true?

SM: people eater? No. I am spider

BT: hello spider I am dog

SM: ASDF:SAfasFDf

BT: no like he says that you go through people a lot

SM: I have a lot of exes

BT: oh neat

BT: I have none exes

SM: what?? Really??

BT: rly

SM: have you ever dated someone?

BT: I don’t date

BT: fuck em and leave em

SM: oh

SM: does that work for you?

BT: easy

SM: wow okay

BT: I don’t want to be your ex. Can we just fuck and say notging about it?

BT: nothing

BT: like it doesn’t have to matter

BT: donst have to go anwhere

SM: yeah. I’m down with that, I guess?

BT: !!!!

SM: I mean if you are. Next time we’re in the same area we can do smth

BT: nice

BT: I think Imma puke

SM: uh?? Don’t puke in bed

SM: BT?

SM: Sam?

BT: did not we’re good hey thanks

BT: that’s cool of you.

BT: I promise Ima a good lay ❤

SM: you could be more than that too, you know?

BT: Good night!!!

 --

 MJ held her face as Peter straddled her hips with his phone two inches from her nose.  

Ned snickered.

“Help me,” MJ begged of him.

He shook his head. Peter shook his phone.

“Friend,” he said.

“Fuckbuddy,” MJ told him. “Don’t fall in love with him, Peter.”

Too fuckin’ late, babe.

Ned started shaking with laughter.

 --

 Once.

It happened once.

Kirsten was in New York for reasons. She brought backup in the form of Sam and some of his coworkers. They were on a 3 day mission, then Sam was catching a train to go help Clint out with a case down in Florida on Matt’s request.

Three days was plenty of time to get up to some shenanigans.

And Sam’s sides were tight. Strong.

Weirdly flexible?

“You’re great,” Sam told him immediately after their ‘shenanigans.’ “I’m leaving.”

Woah, woah, woah, there cowboy.

What’s the rush?

Sam, already back in his black hoodie, blinked owlishly and then squinted.

“Is this not how this works?” he asked.

Uuuuuuuh.

No?

“Stay,” Peter told him, pulling at his sweater. “Have dinner with me and my partners. They want to meet you.”

Sam smiled at him.

It was a bitter one.

“I’ve gotta jet, Pete,” he said. “For real. Thanks, though. Tell them I said hi.”

When he left Peter felt a little like slamming his hand against the bedside table. But that would shatter the bedside table, so he laid back and let the self-loathing begin.

 --

 Johnny thought that Sam was maybe a little insecure and so Peter should chill the fuck out.

“He’s probably never been with a polyamorous person,” he told Peter. “He might be trying to respect MJ and Ned.”

That made sense.

Too much sense.

“And anyways, your agreement was ‘fuck and leave,’” Johnny said. “If you want more than that you’re gonna have to—”

Don’t say it.

“You’re gonna have to—”

Stop singing.

“You’re gonna have to communicate, boo-bear.”

Fuck off.

No words. Only unrequited feelings and misery.

Johnny laughed.

“You’re a mess,” he said.

Whatever.

 --

 Okay, but once is happenstance, twice is a coincidence, and three times is a pattern, no?

Matt sent a text to Peter that said simply ‘I will end you.’

That was basically proof, right?

That was Matt’s shovel talk, right??

MJ and Ned stared at him in horror.

“I think, Peter,” MJ said, “This is a warning.”

Yeah, a shovel talk. Peter had been through infinite shovel talks.

“Maybe you should talk to BT,” MJ said.

“Rephrasing that,” Ned said. “You should definitely talk to BT.”

Okay, fine.

 --

 SM: hey sam

SM: what are we doing, man?

SM: Matt’s threatening to end me

BT: ignore him he’s got zero right

SM: are you sure?

BT: I thought we weren’t talking about this

SM: I kinda want to talk about it?

BT: 🙂 I don’t

SM: oh

SM: sorry

SM: I thought that maybe there was just something more there?

BT: there isn’t. Sorry Peter.

SM: …are you sure?

BT: yes

SM: you’re kind of not giving me confidence that you’re sure, sam. Not enough emojis.

BT: I don’t want to talk

BT: thanks for trying tho!

BT: it means a lot ❤

SM: is it okay if I talk then?

BT: I will not stop you

SM: okay great because I’m kinda? Falling? For you?

SM: like you’re really cute? And funny? And insanely smart and really nice and super good at everything you do? And you have your ideals and you don’t waver?

SM: and idk if you know anything about me or my people that that’s uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuh

SM: how to say

SM: my type

BT: I’m not a type 🙂

SM: no, obviously you’re a person. And I just.

SM: I’ve got love disease

BT: don’t say that word

SM: okay?

SM: are you uncomfortable?

BT: yes

BT: profoundly

SM: okay sorry I’ll stop

BT: peter I like you but I can’t be anything more to you

SM: ?? Why not??

BT: why not????

BT: because DD is my teacher, okay?? And you’re his mentee/brother/teammate whatever.

BT: and I’m not ruining what I have with him because I can’t control my fucking emotions.

BT: this is my shot.

BT: I only have one.

BT: and you’re great. You’re amazing. But I can’t throw it away.

SM: oh

SM: no yeah. That’s fair.

SM: sorry I didn’t mean to push

BT: its fine

SM: is that why you don’t date?

BT: I don’t date because no one cares.

SM: sam that’s not true

BT: can we just? Not?

SM: no? On this thing? No? People care about you? And they would be lucky to have you if you wanted them?

BT: I don’t want them

SM: are you aro?

BT: idk what that means

SM: Aromantic? You don’t feel romantic attraction?

BT: I still don’t know what that means

SM: okay well if you are, then that’s totally cool just so you know.

BT: I’m sorry

SM: don’t be sorry, you’re fine. I was the one pushing.

BT: no this is how it always goes. I’m sorry. I’m just gonna step back if that’s okay

SM: ? you don’t have to. Lol. If you think a rejection is the kind of thing to put a dent in my relationships with people, you got another thing coming pal.

BT: I didn’t mean it like that

SM: it’s okay if you did

SM: but sam you also know that it’s okay to be known a little bit, right?

BT: its not.

 --

 Hhhhhhhhhhng.

“Peter,” Ned said. “Bud, look at me.”

Peter did--with maximum misery.

“I love you,” Ned said. “You are cornering this guy.”

FFFFFFFFfffffffffffffffffuck.

“I’m never texting again,” Peter said.

“Bro, chill,” Ned said. “He likes you, okay? He literally said that. And he also said that he doesn’t want to fuck things up with his teacher. We know that Matt’s polyamorous. We know that he gets it. But does BT know that? Have they actually talked about this kind of thing? Hell no. Matt won’t talk to Foggy about romantic shit, why would he talk to BT about it?”

Fffffffffffffffffffffair point.

“Dramatic,” Ned scolded. “Here, let me try.”

Beg your pardon, sir?

“I just want to calm him down,” Ned said. “You know, apologize for my idiot’s pressure.”

Ah.

Right.

Phone’s all yours then.

 --

 PP: hi BT, this is Ned. I’m peter’s bf.

PP: listen man I just want to say that you’re completely fine. Don’t worry about this stuff too much. Me and MJ don’t mind you two hanging out and doing stuff. We’ve already talked through a lot of this for another guy.

PP: but also like, if you like Peter, that’s okay? He’s infuriatingly likeable. I know, I’ve been here since 3rd grade. If that feels weird to you, though, it might help if you talked to Matt about Kirsten and how they came to be.

PP: it’s okay

PP: whatever you decide, I promise: it’s okay. And you seem super nice and you make my partner really happy (fuckin dopey tbh) so if you ever just want to come and chill, that’s totally good. We’d like to meet you at some point, but no pressure if that makes you uncomfortable.

PP: I’ll be honest, BT, I don’t know much about you.

PP: MJ’s started following you on twitter tho and she says youre funny af. So if you want to join the nerdcrowd over here (unless you’re startrek trash) you’ll always be welcome to our place.

PP: anyways sorry that Peter’s Like That™

PP: he never learned how to quit

PP: hope you get a moment to chill and process dude. –Ned

Read 12:24

BT: are you sure?

PP: oh hey. About what?

BT: all of it?

PP: yeah man I’m sure. MJ is too, she’s just on Peter-beating duty rn so she can’t come to the phone

BT: ok

PP: hey are you shy?

BT: what? No. why do you ask?

PP: no reason. you just seem a little shy.

BT: ☹

PP: lol

PP: you okay?

BT: yes

PP: you want to process?

BT: no

PP: have you already processed?

BT: how do you know that?

PP: because you’re shy and I used to be more shy so you probably either talked it out to yourself or you called your mom or bff or something

BT: I don’t have

BT: sry yeah I talked it out with foggy

PP: you don’t have a mom?

BT: …or a bff. But there is foggy. He’s been helpful.

PP: dude how do you not have a bff? You need a bff

BT: I have plenty of friends ☹

PP: but no bff

BT: AND a sister

PP: but no bff

BT: I COULD have a bff. I just choose not to. For style.

PP: lolololol

PP: peter’s right you’re cute. Okay I’ve gotta give him back his phone before he implodes. Nice talking to you.

BT: okay byeee

 --

Peter straddled Ned and held the phone two inches from his face.

This was witchcraft.

Dark magic.

The least he could do was share.

“I literally just took the pressure off, dude, I don’t know what’s hard about this,” Ned said while MJ watched them over the back of the couch like a cat.

“Teach me your ways, sorcerer,” Peter said.

Ned grabbed his elbow.

“You will never attain my power,” he said.

Peter dropped his full weight on top of him.

 --

 Sam came around eventually.

Peter’s heart fucking stopped. Johnny clapped for him when the text came in that said, ‘DD says he doesn’t mind and he’s already doled out threats. So? Do you maybe want to start over?’

Peter screamed.

Johnny took his phone from him and let him scream better.

“I want to seeeee,” Johnny hummed. “Give us a picture, Blindspot. Are you a little hottie?”

“Shortie,” Peter whimpered.

The phone went down and Johnny’s head came up.

“That’s deadly,” he said.

“I know,” Peter told him.

 --

 Sam was…how to say.

Light touch.

Skittish.

Not good with even the slightest bit of pressure.

Peter hadn’t realized how much of a front he put up in front of other people until he tried to get him talking about shit that mattered and only then did he fully realize the extent to which Sam was exactly like Matt.

Trying to steer him towards emotions and negotiation and heartfelt discussion was like telling a fish that it could only swim one direction.

Sam’s reaction in every case was ‘okay that’s fine, let’s never mention this again--also I’m not going to do that; you just do what you want to me and I’ll figure everything else out on my own.’

Mind boggling.

Zero skills in that department.

Ned thought it was absolutely adorable.

MJ thought it was funny as fuck.

“Matt is useless,” Peter told them. “Absolutely useless. He’s done this shit for twenty fucking years and he’s just letting Sam work it out on his own?”

“Maybe that’s his teaching method?” Ned pointed out.

No, it absolutely was his teaching method. But that was the problem.

Fuck.

“Sam,” Peter said on the phone a while later, “Listen, buddy. I recognize that you are allergic to feelings, but this is what we have to do to get what we want.”

Sam hung up.

Dude.

“Threatened,” Ned said. “Come on. Gimme.”

 --

 Ned accused Peter of not telling him that Sam was Chinese. Peter told him that Sam’s twitter was literally half-written in Chinese.

Ned accused MJ of not telling him that Sam was Chinese and MJ said simply ‘my bad’ and got away with that shit, like she always did.

Unbelievable.

Johnny asked if Sam was interested in a superhero-sandwich and Peter got to take his aggression out on his pressure points.

Still, though, Peter was kind of glad that Ned was leading the charge on this. Firstly, because Ned so rarely stepped into these things with authority and it was really warming and lovely to see him so interested in bringing another person into their polycule. And secondly because Ned had the lightest touch of them all.

Peter, MJ, and Johnny were all helmet heads wielding hammers. The only thing keeping them from self-destruction were all the YIELD signs they’d set around their circle.

Ned typically just waded in between them all to tug Peter and MJ out of the battlezone and into a semblance of humanity.

So it was nice—no, it was cute that Ned was developing a little crush on Sam.

MJ thought so, too.

“I do love fresh meat to tenderize,” she said.

Peter stared.

“That is not the vibe we’re going for,” he reminded her.

MJ waved him off.  

 --

 “Peter.”

What’d he do now?

Ned held the phone seriously out to him.

“Tell Sam I want a picture of him to put on the wall next to my mirror,” he said.

Peter blinked.

“That’s creepy, dude,” he said.

“It will make him laugh and he’s still not comfortable sharing yet,” Ned said. “But he trusts you more than me.”

Ah.

Right.

Okay sure.

Peter texted.

Sam sent back only eye emojis.

Ah.

“So,” Peter said while Ned tapped a foot impatiently on the kitchen linoleum. “There’s something you should know.”

Ned cocked his head at him.

 --

 “Dude,” MJ said. “That’s wild.”

Sam’s eyes were, uh, how to say.

Inhuman.

Johnny shrieked, took the phone and climbed into Peter’s lap.

“He’s so cute, Peter, bring him home, I’ll be so nice,” he pleaded.

Johnny was not the one who was going to need reminders to be nice.

“How does he see?” Ned asked.

Uhhhhhhh.

Oh, you know…

Not well.

Johnny lowered the phone.

“He’s blind?” he asked.

“Not blind,” Peter said. “But low vision.”

The room seemed to go quiet for a minute.

“Is Matt his—”

“No,” Peter sighed.

“Are you sure?” MJ asked. “These coincidences are stacking.”

“No,” Peter repeated. “His dad’s Chinese. He was born in Fuzhou, I think.”

“Oh,” MJ said.

“So he can’t see very well,” Ned repeated.

“He does okay in daytime,” Peter said. “And he does best with high contrast. But like, pictures can be hard sometimes if they’re too light or too dark. He doesn’t really ask for much help, but he and Matt kinda puzzle over stuff if you’re not careful. And if you’re extra not careful, they’ll make their own memes and they’ll be full of blind jokes.”

The room held still for another moment.

“Okay, so what do we need to do?” Ned asked.

 --

 The first time the others met Sam, Peter had to chase him down the hall and even then, it was only via Matt’s aid that he was placed back in Peter’s apartment.

Matt pointed a finger at Sam’s eye and told him that he was to stay ‘right fuckin here’ until he was done at the courthouse.

“Do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars,” Matt said as Sam tried and failed to bite that finger. “I want an intact paralegal by the end of this trip, and I will not have an intact paralegal if you go around gettin’ noticed by the fuckin’ Irish, yes?”

“I can take ‘em,” Sam said.

Matt sneered.

“I don’t know why I bother,” he said. “Stay. Those are orders.”

“Fuck your orders,” Sam shot back at him, to the horror of everyone else in the room.

“Yeah, yeah, ‘fuck your orders,’ whatever,” Matt said. “Stay put.”

Sam bared his teeth after him.

Only when the door closed, did he finally give notice that other people were in the room. Johnny lit up.

“You’re short and angry,” he said.

Sam rounded on him.

 --

 MJ loved Sam now.

MJ told everyone else to get out, Sam was the only person who mattered.

Johnny thought that Matt needed to come back and take his rabid dog with him. Sam told him to stay out of his face and they wouldn’t have any more problems, but, seeing as Johnny was incapable of not adding fuel to fire, Peter kept him behind himself for the time being.

Ned was probably the person in the most shock of Sam, however.

Peter forgot how Sam came off to other people.

Very unassuming. Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. His prosthetics hid his black sclera, and even if he did tend to lift his face towards the light more often than other people, he did it so subtly, you’d think he was nodding along to a tune in his head.

Sam looked like your friend.

Your neighbor. Your classmate. The one with the baby face, you know.

His hair was getting longer, Peter noticed. He pointed it out and Sam softened enough to tell him that he was going for something a little more hipster.

“If I let it keep going, it’ll start swooping,” he told Peter. “The swoop is very in right now, Peter.”

Peter believed him.

He had no idea what that meant. But he believed him.

“You know what’s not in?” Johnny asked. “Friendly fire.”

Sad sneered at him.

“I ain’t know you from Adam,” he snapped.

Ned lifted a fist to his face in a sign that Peter recognized well and it took everything in him not to smirk and start teasing.

“Okay, let’s start over,” Peter said. “Sam, these are my friends, or, uh. Our polycule, if you will.”

He had Sam’s attention now.

“Polycule?” he asked.

Indeed.

“’Cause it’s shaped like a molecule,” MJ said. “And everyone here is also a nerd.”

Sam looked at her.

“You’re MJ,” he said.

“You’re Blindspot,” MJ said. “What makes you blind?”

“The trauma,” Sam said without missing a beat.

Peter waved Johnny off and set his hands on Sam’s shoulders.

“Sam’s made an invisibility suit,” he said.

He had everyone’s attention now.

“You did what?” Ned said.

Sam blinked and then shrugged a shoulder.

“What, like it’s hard?” he asked.

Oh yeah.

He was gonna fit in fine.

[grim-faux]

08_The Tower

First 

 The trek to the tower was arguably terrible and insufferable, but served as a last testament for the small child and what he should come to expect. Dissuade him from this oath of self-destruction he clung to, or inner discovery. None of this mattered to the Thin Man, he had been on this path before, as his predecessor was, and he before him. It was as infinite as it was confounding.

 There was no straight path to the city center, it was more of a spiral, sometimes backtracking through the alleys or wandering through destroyed homes or skyscrapers. At times, the Thin Man separated from Mono, and let the child go his own way – the path he was restricted to was perilous, as the Thin Man had more likelihood of crossing through locations choked out by Viewers, or other creatures. He was also disinterested with traversing the transmission through the abundance of televisions, though that would be the most direct method. The easiest. It was no great enfeeblement to pick his way to that final destination, but he decided to retain any amount of control of the situation that could be managed — even if that too was a farce.

 Either way, this whole ordeal wasn’t his trial. Never once did he doubt that he would relocate the boy after losing track of him, always knowing his location by the share of Transmission which connected them. This he never expanded on to Mono, since the child had refused to confront him. That, he was uncertain why, though the boy had given some brittle explanation. It didn’t satisfy his curiosity of his successor, and his takeaway of that situation.

 Following when the two did meet up, the child clung a little closer to the tall figure. He was looking more haggard and disheveled after each separation, but the Thin Man said nothing. It was entirely possible the child was working to shake him, and attempted to reach the tower on his own terms. He couldn’t suggest how unwise of a scheme that was, given how poorly the child managed out of his company. Upon one such recurrence, he was a tad alarmed to see that the paper bag had been partially ripped, and the boy seemed more withdrawn than previously.

 The perplexity of this stalemate, as he thought of it, grated on his nerves and the static. He was not certain how the tower would react upon his return, but surely the child was being cautious. The televisions were typically harmless, to him…

 Upon reconnecting with the boy, he inquired, “Are you use televisions, to travel?”

 The boy was on a high platform, apart of some excavated wall within a building. Well out of reach. But he delivered such a thousand-mile stare, as if caught out. He offered no response, nothing aside from an expressive move of his mask and a finger pressed to his face. It was endearing, in an odd way. Noisy children were often sought out, hunted or captured. He remembered that.

 Then at last, they came to stand before the massive portal to the Signal Tower. It’s colors intense, the atmosphere stifling and painful. They were expected...

 “I was… am, to bring you here,” the Thin Man announced, somewhat wistful, and maybe more to himself. “You do know this. You should fought. Should resist, but didn’t.” He looked to the side, where the small figure was huddled out of the rain.

 In response, Mono held up two fingers. One eye glinted within the gash in his mask.

 “Ah,” said the Thin Man. “Do you believe I saved you out of some form of sympathy?”

 “Sympany?”

 “Do you believe I helped you out of some misplaced goodness?”

 Mono debated, and the Thin Man let him have that time. “You did for reason, and scare me. I know it was no me for, but you for.” He turned his head, checking the Thin Man. “And scare to me more than you chase us. More than… watch her go.” His voice cracked. “More than going here.”

 So the child wasn’t paralyzed by the ideal of harming his rescuer. It was a fear of the unknown, an unaddressed suspicion. He shouldn’t be surprised, though. It would’ve been his reaction as well, had the same happened to him. It was no less disappointing somehow, but he was gratified to know this truth.

 “You think she mad me?”

 The Thin Man tugged his hat down over his face more. “I’m very certain she will reject you. You did her an unfair crime.” He dropped his eyes back to Mono, who stared forward looking indecisive and soaked. “Your journey will end here, and you will lose yourself, child. You can always walk away. There’s no shame in survival. You know that better than anyone else.”

 Mono flinched and shuddered audibly. “And go where with her out?” He angled his head up. “I not would if survive, not without a friend. Friends… they—” He shook his head.

 That was a valid point. The whole purpose of children packing was survival. It… didn’t always work favorably, typically not in large numbers. Companionship was the main draw, and someone to assist you in reaching high places, a second set of eyes to scout. Or to… wait for you. Come for you when you call, or when you needed rescuing. No one ever came to his rescue. Then again, he….

 “I did this,” Mono murmured. “I opened a door. I have to fix this.”

 The Thin Man rolled his eyes, and then opened the door for the child. The towering panels folded back, groaning welcome at his arrival. And seemed to gleam with mirth, as he with the smaller one stepped through. He knew it was a mistake, he knew this would not end well. But what was he to do, if they child wouldn’t fulfill his part of the plan?

 Try harder, crooned the walls. You have your ways.

 With a clatter, the doors sealed shut at their back. Mono whipped about, struggling to distinguish if there were doors in the wall, ever. It looked like a wall, blazing with acrid colors. He recoiled from the inspection and scurried back into the vicinity of the tall thin man.

 “Toys?”

 “It would seem.”

 The chamber they entered into was cavernous, debris and discarded pieces from various contraptions, pieces of buildings lay about. The Thin Man adjusted his hat, while Mono fumbled with his saturated face mask. The man in the hat led the way to the wall, and the set of doors there. He seemed to select one at random and opened it.

 “Caution. This passage may lead you elsewhere.”

 “Else-ware?”

 As answer, the Thin Man began to enter the brilliant rosy light and beckoned the boy after him. When they exited from the light, it was in a completely new corridor, much like those of the homes and apartments throughout the city. More doors decorated long and vast walls, with yellowed light gleaming between the cracks.

 “What all the doors? Is she here?”

 “I don’t know,” the Thin Man offered honesty. “May or may not, it is hard to say. I do not know where she may have gone.” He traced his hand along a door as they walked, and speculated, “The tower, or I – do not snatch people. They arrive here when they are ready. They call out to it, and the beacon gives them haven from an unforgiving world.” Or, that was how he envisioned it. He wasn’t certain himself. He was not so much contained her, as he was dispirited by the world that forsaken him. It… held no more meaning. No more wonder, or triumph.

 What of anything he dwelled upon, locked away as he was, would make sense? He recalled his youth, crumbling under the demand of the Signal Tower. The transmission beckoning with a secret harmony, demanding attention. Tuning. Much like the Viewers, searching for the signal in the snow, the final haven. Only able to reach out as he was, as child, and define the place he should arrive into. The end and beginning, of an endless travel. Tune the transmission. Open all Doors. Answer his questions, of why’s and how’s.

 “In why does do?” came the soft voice.

 “I’m uncertain, myself. To feed, is what I always decided.” They deserved it though. Their fate was more merciful than his, they were given illusions and lies, a fantasy to become lost in. “It gives them everything they could ever hope for, every desire, great or small, and in exchange… well, well, what would you need with a world that would discard you?”

 From the long hall, they moved into a short hall with several large open doors, all enticing. Light spilled across the floor, and a small blanket printed with stars glided on the air as if it was a jellyfish. Mono snatched the blanket and coiled it over his shoulders. When he didn’t pursue the Thin Man, the tall figure looked back.

 “Why come after? Chase?” He sneezed.

 The Thin Man tried not to snicker. It was a very serious and important question. “I was summoned, were I not? You opened my door.”

 Mono dipped his head and fumbled with his broken mask. “Didn’t know you there.”

 “Well, now you know better, don’t you?” It was kind of too little too late.

 Mono trailed after the Thin Man, through another door seemingly selected at random. They appeared out in a new location, the inexperienced boy tumbling as if tossed. It was an open room, with a sequence of doors set into the walls. There was nothing distinguishable about the room, aside from the tiled floors. One door was open, and it was this door the Thin Man elected to traverse.

 “Is really she here?” he asked. “Feeds on her too?”

 The Thin Man shrugged. The descending stairs narrow, yet, he had traversed more perilous paths in his youth. Below existed nothing but mist, and crooked voices. “I don’t know. I left her to her own devices, trying to retrieve you. You were very illusive.” There’s smugness in the response, as Mono stated:

 “I always to better of escaping.”

 “Oh, so certain are you?” He glanced back, flashing two fingers. Mono shifted in the blanket. “How certain are you? You insist, you awake?”

 “No fair. Didn’t do hurt. Not trick.”

 “So certain? So complacent, then,” the Thin Man mocked. “Perhaps I was not the one you should have run from.”

 For a long while they did not speak. The child was content to follow, and the Thin Man chose the doors. He didn’t expect he could find the girl, let alone discover sign of her presence while with Mono. The rooms were not static, and the tower shifted constantly. It was never the same. He anticipated a question to come, but not the next question that would be uttered, nearly beneath his creaking steps.

 “Trapped here too? You? Was place… eating?”

 The Thin Man set his hand on a door handle and dithered. He looked over at Mono, and offered the first sort of expression that had warmth. “No.”

 In the next corridor, Mono edged ahead examining the massive doors. “But… why wait? Place, it all wrong. And trick. Could leave, could? Go to?” The Thin Man stepped by, not looking to the child or the doors up for scrutiny. He tapped his chin, pondering.

 “There was nothing more for me beyond that door,” he supplied. And it was true, it was simple. “I was done with your world, and all the cruelty it offered. Like the people, I wanted… something.” He wanted more than anything, what the tower had already promised him. It gave without conditions, he only need fulfill his role. In due time.

 Another passage, which oddly enough resembled the shack of the Hunters grounds. Except the environment was eerily silent, no noises, no creaking floors. At the bottom of the steps awaited one door, but there was no room where a Six might have been secluded away.

 Mono was a little disappointed, but in a way relieved too. At least the place didn’t smell like decay and chemicals. “Are lost? We gone?”

 “No. We’re not found, either.” He examined the doors, but opted to continue walking. “There is no guarantee we will find her. You understand? I promised nothing, aside from bring you here.” From the basement grounds of the Hunter’s replica, a staircase descended downward. The door at the bottom brought them out into another corridor, narrow and much too low for the Thin Man to stand fully.

 Mono hung back to put the blanket over his head and tore off his paper bag. It had been so saturated with water and abuse, nonetheless it was a massive disappointment. He only meant to shake out the mud and liquid. He held the tatters, contemplating if should leave. It was rather sentimental. “But still gonna find. Okay?”

 In his defense, he was going to find her. That wasn’t the problem here. That begged the question, what then?

 “Then you should choose which door, shouldn’t you?” The Thin Man gestured.

 Mono hooded the blanket over his head, and splayed the excess pattern over his shoulders. He glanced at the rows of doors, then turned his gaze back to the Thin Man. Without a word he jogged ahead, looking from door to door. Until, a door in the path creaked open. The child looked from it to the Thin Man, before ducking into the light.

 “Don’t go too hasty.” The Thin Man stumbled upon hurrying through, nearly tripping over Mono right in the portal and still recovering from landing roughly. The Thin Man groused. This… child….

 “Do hear that?”

 Sigh. “No. What do you hear?”

 Mono climbed to his feet and dashed forward, slowing as he moved past a sequence of open and inviting doors. Harsh light flooded forth, along with dust and a few toys suspended. “I know to music.”

 The Thin Man tilted his head. “Music? What music?” Stupid question, for the life of him he couldn’t… no, he could. The lullaby. What was the melody, again?

 Mono moved to the center of the corridor and spun around, and around. He set a hand behind his head, and capped his other ear. “That music! Hey!” He darted to one of the portals, the light shimmered, welcoming his passage. “OI!”

 The Thin Man tried to temper time, but Mono was already faded within the cascading radiance. “Wait! Don—” That infernal child! He moved quickly, cautious this time when he exited unto the other side of the doorway.

 But Mono wasn’t there, and the child was nowhere in sight. In the next few seconds, the Thin Man suspected that would be for the best.

 The walls were unfavorable and horrendous, and an all too familiar sight he had yet witnessed in many decades. The Thin Man spun around, but the doorway that offered safe passage was no more. There was only more mass, teeth, and so many eyes – squirming, watching. Mocking him.

 “̶̨̼̿̀̀̾͑̀͠Ẁ̴̧̤̤̜̮̖̹͋͑̃̕e̷̢̝̝̦̼͚͖͐̍̈́͘͝l̷͙̫̳̫̓̅͊c̸̛̞̬͈̑͐̽͒ŏ̴͚͓̳ṁ̵͖̮̙̼̝̓͘e̸͎̣̙͛͊̍̂ ̶̡̛͈̗͎̰̫̠̉ȟ̸̦̫ȍ̷̧̨͓͚̯ͅm̷̥̝̥̩̘̥̊e̵͈̳͈͋͆,̸̘͍̙̠͒͐̅͑ ̶̡͖̖͕̻͉̩͌͌c̸̻͜͝h̴̯̘͍̪͇͈̆͌̐̉̑i̴̧͉͇̟͕͍̟͐l̶̢̖͖̤͈͍̲̅̾̾̓̉̌͝d̸̰̗͛̂́̄͊.̸̢̳͔̤̲̉̇́ ̵͕̖̭̯̐́̃̎̃̆W̷̦̝̮̲̎͆̈́e̴̛̹̟͈̳͚̜̲̋͐̑͠ ̴̤̦͍̞̣̼̇̍̐̀͠h̶̝̭̗͊̂a̸̪̻̞̺̅͆v̶̧̨̛̹̉͑̏̉͘͠ḙ̵̟̥̝̭̰͑̈́͛̌̔͊͠ ̴̤̩̔̆́̍̓̾͜͝b̵̛̮̊̓̕e̷̡͓̫͙̺̟̝͒͛̏̚e̴̢̛̦̗̬̺͍͑̄́ñ̴̦̪̖̯̞̰…̸̥̺̈́̆͆͘ ̷̗͉̤̰̣̅͗͝e̸̪̤̩̔͑̐͒ͅx̶̟̑̈́̔̇̉̓͝p̵̧̪̂̓͛͌̽̓ę̵̥̪̜̳̍̏͐ç̴̝̭͍̩̥̇̒͜͝ť̸̥̜̰͕̳̤̀̎ͅi̴̛̗̥̾̚͘n̴͙͔̐͊͗̔g̴̞̈̓ ̵̛̛͍͇̗̗̈́͐̈́̌ͅy̴̨̝̤̜͕̦̽̈́͗ò̵̦̠͎̻̝͋̉́͊ù̵̱͕͉̖̔͒.̸̧̟͇̺̜͂̈́͒̏̕̕͜ͅ ̸̹̉F̷̡̛̪̠͈͇͕̃̋̋ơ̸̩͉͉͎͗̀͂͐r̴͕̫̜̥̊̇̆ ̶͇̻͙̻̥̰̀́̀́͠ͅf̶̞̗̙͙͍̬̊̂͜͝ä̴̢̘̳͓͍́r̸̩͙̤̈́ͅ ̶̘͍̠̹̦͙͘ͅt̵͙͔̙̟̘̹̍̑͜o̶̱̻͕̟͙̽̍̎͛́́̍o̸̩͆͘ ̶̮̂̽̊̆̈́͘̚ļ̴̳̪̣̿͌͂͝ȏ̶̧̰̅̉̉n̶͎̠̖̣͎͕̍̾̈̂g̵͓̔͑̔͛̐̐͝.̶̲͖͚̗̭̈́̈́͘͝͠ͅ”

 The Thin Man spun around, seeking the source of the voices. But he suspected it was in his mind, just as it nested there for all the years he remained confined. Sheltered. Churning and goading him, whispering through the drum of static. His doubt, and hurt. There was nothing here, but him, and the Flesh. It may have been wiser NOT to tamper with what he did not understand, and leave well enough alone.

 As he looked through the chamber, he saw no doors or walls. It was endless black and hollow, aside from the hellish patch he stood upon. He began to wonder if this was what he was meant to do, or if that too was all a lie. Was this where his path was meant to end? Is this where the man in the hat went, when the child was finished with him? Was it kinder to be the relentless antagonist, and force the child’s violent reaction?

All along, it didn’t matter. None of it mattered; how he tried and fought and struggled to change what was and always has been. The end was predestined, as the cycle was eternal and unfathomable.

 This was decidedly worse than ceasing to exist. Worst of all, this meant that his fate was to be shared by the current Mono. Once, his successor was done with him, he would come to dwell here. That was worst. And he should have warned him or said something, but he didn’t. He didn’t know any better.

Next

[dearlazerbunny]

Can I have Kylo for fluff alphabet please? Thank you!

All of them?! I mean if you ~insist~

(Alphabet prompt here)

Kylo x Reader Fluff ABCs 💜

Activities: Free time is scarce, so he’ll mostly visit you at night when the two of you can curl up in bed, watch the stars, and talk about anything and everything. Technically it’s always night in space, but when he’s with you the black seems to dim a little, and the stars shine brighter. It’s the best sort of night, the ones that make you think there are as many possibilities as there are planets in the sky.

Beauty: Kylo LOVES your smile. You smile so easily, whereas he can count on one hand the number of times he’s smiled in the pas year- each time because of you. And he still has to remind himself how to breathe anytime he makes you smile.

Comfort: He’s excellent at holding you close and just letting you cry it out, running his fingers through your hair, and keeping his lips pressed to the top of your head so you know he’s there. Sometimes he’ll tell stories- the same ones his mother told him, about adventures in space and good defeating evil and how hope makes the universe turn. He doesn’t know if he believes in those old stories anymore- but he knows you do.

Dreams: Somewhere quiet, somewhere far away from any war or light side and dark side and Jedis and metal monstrosities that destroy planets on a whim. It’d be a simple house- maybe in a forest, set away from a tiny village- with just enough space for the two of you and maybe... maybe a child. The three of you would lie in the tall grass- a little boy or girl tugging on his mother’s clothes and giggling at the feeling of the dirt beneath his feet- and tell new stories. Because now he doesn’t need those old stories telling him about light and hope- he has his own, sitting right in front of him.

Equal: Kylo is not used to someone standing up to him and calling him on his bullshit. Kylo cannot remember the last time someone called him “Ky” without having a rather vicious meeting with the glowing end of his lightsaber. Kylo definitely isn’t used to someone being in his personal space- a touch on his arm, holding hands, a leg wrapped around his when the two of you are in bed. He might a six-foot-something menace in all black and a scary sword, but you have an infinite amount of little ways of telling him that he is not the boss of you. Period.

Fight: Fighting is loud- there’s a good amount of yelling and stomping around. Most of it stems from insecurities: he can’t get it out of his head that you aren’t going to drop him on a whim someday when you realize how broken he is; you hate that he’s constantly diving headfirst into a war where you can���t do anything to protect him. One night, after a particularly horrible bout, you voice the idea that the insecurities get smaller when the trust gets bigger. So now, any argument, big or small, is only over when the two of you can look at each other and honestly say, “I trust you.”

Gratitude: He knows you’re doing... something, but he doesn’t really realize how much until one day he’s sitting with you, your fingers intertwined, laughing at something ridiculously stupid and only funny to the two of you, and he’s looking at you and how your eyes sparkle when you laugh and he notices he hasn’t heard any of the voices in his head since you started giggling. He’ll tell you later- he wants to hear your laugh for just a little bit longer.

Honesty: Kylo definitely keeps secrets- mostly his fears. He’s scared you’ll leave him, that one day you’ll walk away and won’t come back. He wants a future with you- not just a future, but an endgame- and every day it seems less and less likely. He worries he isn’t what you deserve. He’s scared he’ll hurt you accidentally; he’s terrified he’ll hurt you intentionally. He’s never told you any of this, but the funny thing is- you kind of already know.

Inspiration: You’ve changed him for the better, and keep doing so every day. Much like the realization from Gratitude, he won’t quite know the extent of it until one day it smacks him in the face and he finally thinks, oh.

Jealousy: Yes, and it’s something the two of you have to work on. Constantly. To his credit, he went from hunting down one of your work friends in the middle of the night after he gave you a hug in the mess hall to (occasionally) haltingly and frustratingly voicing his feelings. It’s progress, and you’re willing to stick by him for however long it takes.

Kiss: Your first kiss was incredibly tentative, soft, and barely there. You weren’t quite sure it even had happened, except Kylo’s look of absolute shock clued you in that it very much did. Then about five seconds later you realized that was probably Kylo’s first kiss. Ever. He doesn’t really get it at first- he’s stiff and awkward and at one point frustratingly blurted out ‘but what do I do with my hands.’ He’s much better now. Practice makes perfect after all, and let’s be real, kissing this man is a hardship you are more than willing to bear.

Love Confession: He wanders into your room one night, antsy and agitated and very thrown off by... something. You don’t know what, because he refuses to tell you- just paces your room clenching and unclenching his fists while you desperately try to figure out what’s wrong. Eventually, he faces you, bewildered, looks you dead in the eye, and says I love you- which spirals you into a cacophony of relief, giddiness, happiness, and laughter all in about five second’s time. While he’s looking put out from you laughing at him, you kiss him on the lips once... twice... and say, I know.

Marriage: He thinks he’d like to marry you someday. It’d be simple- you’d carry a bouquet of wildflowers, maybe with some braided in your hair as well. The rings would both be a beautiful smoky grey, and yours has a small piece of his kyber crystal set in the center. He doesn’t know who would be there... Hux? The two of you are friends. The people you work with... well, they don’t know about you. He knows it’s impossible, but he always pictures his mother there too, to give you away.

Nicknames: Kylo isn’t really one for nicknames. You call him Ky, love, babe when you want to get a rise out of him- but every so often, in the dead of night, when you’re half asleep and not quite sure if you’re dreaming it, he’ll pull you close and whisper my queen before pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

On Cloud Nine: Nobody knows. Not a single soul. Have you seen that man’s poker face? Hux and Phasma can guess something is up, but that something being ‘Kylo Ren in love’ is so far out of the realm of possibility that it doesn’t even make the top 101 Things That Might Be Going On With Ren. You think it’s hilarious, and also kind of sweet- he saves that side of himself for you and you only.

PDA: See the above. PDA is not a thing with him, for a multitude of reasons: he has an image to maintain, he doesn't want you to get hurt if potentially being used against him, he simply doesn’t know how to initiate such things. You respect his want for privacy- you don’t want to be rumor mill fodder either. But on the very few occasions you find yourselves out and alone together, you’ll give him a peck on the mask where his cheek would be. That’s enough for you.

Quirk: I don’t know if the Force counts as a quirk, but it definitely makes you laugh when he decides to do stupid party tricks in an effort to cheer you up (think Aang and his marble trick in A:TLA 😂). In the back of your mind, you can’t help but imagine him doing the same innocent magic tricks to the delight of your son or daughter someday.

Romantic: He’s romantic while having no sense of traditional romance. If you mention a favorite flower, there’ll be a vase of them in your room the next day. When you tease him for doing something sweet, he just looks baffled. “You said you liked these. So I procured some. You’re welcome?” The fact that he doesn’t get how much his gestures actually mean makes them that much sweeter.

Support: Kylo thinks you could probably end this whole war single-handed if they plopped you down in the middle of the battlefield. Not that he’d ever test that theory. But if someone has the capability of making him start thinking of things like a future, they have more power in their fist than he does with the entirety of the Force.

Thrill: Considering this is all still fairly new to Kylo, even something like kissing the back of his hand sends him into shutdown mode for a second or two. You’re taking it slow. It took him a whole two months to even get used to the idea of holding hands on the regular.

Understanding: Kylo worries this is an area he’s lacking in. What he doesn’t know is that he instinctively knows when you need a hug, picks up on your moods before you even know what that mood is, and often knows what you’re thinking before you say it. He doesn’t think highly enough of himself to say that he knows someone as wonderful as you so intimately, but the truth is he’s pretty much got you on lock.

Value: You are everything. If he knew there would be no repercussions, and you’d be safe, he would drop everything and move to that little house in the forest with you, War, Skywalkers, and Snoke be damned. At some point, he stopped fighting this war to rid himself of his past and started fighting it so that you and he might have a future.

Wild Card: You have a tendency to pull hair whenever you get really frustrated, so Kylo offered to let you play with his instead- obviously, you are infinitely more careful with him than you are yourself. This eventually morphed into you being able to craft Disney-princess-worthy braids and updos with his hair. Sometimes he’ll let you tuck a flower in it if he really wants to see you laugh.

XOXO: This poor man is touch s t a r v e d. The second you start being physically affectionate with him, he never wants you to stop- laying by his side, holding your hand, playing with his hair, wrapping himself around you. Not that anyone outside of the two of you would have any idea.

Yearning: You aren’t a Force user, but you’re connected to the point where when he’s away on a mission, he can send you a thought or a feeling to let you know he’s thinking of you. More than once you’ve felt the slight sensation of his fingers on your cheek or him walking beside you, even though he’s lightyears away.

Zeal: if you and Luke Skywalker were standing side by side, and he could only reach one of you, he’d grab you by the hand, start running, and never let go.

[la-fille-en-aiguilles]

Blackout | Random One-Shot Series, #1

Billy Russo x Female Reader 

I’ve been through a major blackout this week, it got me thinking and this just happened. There’s another Blackout scenario I’m finishing, I’ll try to post it next week. For those lovely people who requested Matt Murdock stories, I’m still on them. Sorry for this delay in delivery, I blame Billy Russo. 

Warnings: S.M.U.T. 

Synopsis: you and Billy are best buddies, always have been. And it seems like nothing could change that. Well, except for a blackout, maybe.

“…you know, maybe I should just give up on men already. Start playing for the other team.”

Billy chuckles and shakes his head, his eyes skimming over the photos that you and him took earlier today at this gallery you somehow managed to drag him to. When his thumb swipes right to see yet another photo, your face suddenly takes up the entire screen, your full red lips forming a heart, a fucking sinful pout, your shimmering eyes watching him with such playfulness and boldness, he is instantly drawn to them and stunned speechless. 

When did you manage to take this photo anyway?...

“What can I say, it’ll be our loss,” Billy answers hurriedly before you come back to his room from the bathroom wondering what the hell has got his tongue. 

He can actually think of a few things, his hooded eyes still glued to the screen. His tongue sure would feel like home on those plump lips, among other places…

“He suggested that we hang out. When did hanging out even become a thing?! What does that even supposed to mean? ” you muse as the shower stops running, and Billy curses himself mentally, trying to ignore the tense feeling in his groin.

Dimming the screen of his phone, he throws it on the bed by his side. With his eyes fixed on the empty doorway leading to the bathroom, he tries to do his best to relax, allowing his back to hit the pillows. 

“I don’t know,” he considers it out loud, biting the inside of his cheek. “Maybe it means, like, let’s spend some quality time together, you know?”

Get naked, have lots of sex and maybe even dinner?, his mind spirals back to your lips. 

What the fuck is wrong with him.

Your laugh is the prettiest thing he has ever heard – and felt. As he takes in the smooth melody, goosebumps immediately spread all over his body, awakening his senses. Like some sort of a top-quality drug, spreading in his veins, getting his entire body tingle with excitement. 

God damn, he has it bad. 

“Is that what you mean when you ask me to hang out?” before he can even realize he said what he thinks he thought out loud, you step into his bedroom, and he nearly groans, and chokes on his own saliva. 

With your hair curled at the ends, the front strands rolled back in some kind of a retro style, your lips still sinner red, you stand in front of him wearing black stockings that hit you just a couple of inches above your knees and one of his dress shirts, because you probably couldn’t find a bathrobe. 

He considers thinking about dead puppies, but his mind already pictures his hands sliding up your thighs as he fucks you into the wall…

“No,” he lets out in a husky voice, flicking his eyes to your face, illuminated with a completely oblivious smile. “I could never-” he stutters, “I’d never want to do that to you… I mean, with you…”, watching your expression darken up some, he suddenly realizes it all comes out wrong.

Bloody hell, just shut your trap up! 

“I mean, we’re buddies, right?” Billy finally manages weakly, hating himself for every word that leaves his mouth. “We can never be…”, he even considers just stopping talking all together, your smile having disappeared entirely, and having been replaced by a small frown and a pout.

That fucking pout.

“All I’m saying, is…” Billy rakes his fingers through his thick mane of hair, exasperated and fed up with himself. “…I don’t think this kind of hanging out can ever be our thing”. 

Just when he breathes out, thinking it could have gone so much worse, his eyes shift back to your face. The next thing he knows you snap at him, your hands on your hips.

“Of course not,” Billy can sense metal ringing in every word. “Besides, hanging out would never cut it for me.”

With these words, you’re a whirlwind of cotton, hair and lipstick, as you turn on your heels and power walk back to the bathroom, tense and frustrated. 

Billy feels like a blithering idiot, staring at the spot where you’ve been standing seconds ago. Moaning softly and biting his bottom lip, he buries his face in his hands. 

He’d really better get his libido in line, before he drives you away with his horrendous stupidity and infinite babbling that doesn’t even make sense.

Your ringtone goes off in the bathroom all of the sudden, somewhat shaking Billy out of his stupor.  You take a moment to answer, swearing under your breath as Billy hears something clutter against the tile floors, probably your perfume.

“Hey, Karen. What’s up?” It seems to him that you sound completely off, some kind of emotion that you’re trying to desperately fight raw in your voice. You clear your throat, and the sound makes Billy’s entire body go cold. 

You are not angry. You’re disappointed, and you’re doing a pretty shitty job trying to mask it. 

“Okay, okay, don’t freak out, Bill and I will think of something,” you dash out of the bathroom and back into where Billy sits. You widen your eyes at him, as if sending him silent signals. “He’s going to call Frank right now, and tell him he needs him to pass by his place. We’ll think of some excuse,” worry laces your every word, and Billy is up on his feet, alert as his Marine senses kick in. Even though he knows it’s just a goddamn surprise birthday party, and nobody’s in danger. For now. “Worst case scenario, he gets to your place before the guests do. It’s still going to be a hell of a surprise!”

You close your mouth abruptly. Billy watches you with concern in his dark eyes, and just as he reaches out and wraps his fingers around your wrist, the lights in his apartment go off, and the entire room is drowned in pitch-black darkness.

Something’s happening on the other end of the line, Billy can tell, as you call Karen’s name a couple of times. He lights up the flash on his phone with his free hand, blinking a couple of times.

“Hell’s Kitchen has shitty cellphone service as it is,” Billy tries to reassure in a hushed voice even though he knows better than to speak. “The citywide blackout sure ain’t helping”.

He instantly regrets having opened his mouth as your eyes shoot daggers at him in the light that his iPhone’s emanating.

“Yeah, no shit, Russo,” you scoff at him. 

Before Billy can even open his mouth and retort, he finally hears Karen’s voice, and you shake Billy’s grip off your hand, without even looking at him. Your voice is a tad strangled but still firm as you tell Karen that the blackout might slow Frank down. You also tell her to stay put while Billy calls him to see where he’s at. 

As you drop the call, you put the flash on your iPhone on and return back to the bathroom, not saying a word.

Having watched you disappear, Billy drops back on the couch, sighing, still trying to wrap his head around how much of a fucking retard he is. He lights his phone up, only to see the No Service message in bold white letters. Muttering a curse under his breath, he flicks the flash mode off, so he’s left sitting in the darkness, his eyes fixed on the light coming from the bathroom. 

“I’ve got zero service, but I still can get hold of my guys so they can track ‘im ,” Billy suggests, his thumb rubbing against his phone’s screen in a nervous gesture. 

“Do that then,” his heart breaks a little as he hears you answer cooly, like you couldn’t give less crap about what he does. “We’ll be going in five, just let me get dressed”. 

Silence settles in the room until you curse under your breath, the light in the bathroom going off. Your phone must have died.

“So the hanging out guy”, he hates the begging tones in his voice, but Billy speaks up anyway, clearing his throat. He knows that probably makes him a coward, but he finds it easier to voice his thoughts while being immersed in darkness. “Did you tell ‘im that? That hanging out doesn’t cut it for you?” he asks, not even sure he wants to know the answer. Because what if she didn’t? 

What if she took him up on his offer? 

Billy doesn’t know how he’ll be able to handle that.

He hears you scoff almost immediately at his lame questions while you’re in the middle of the fucking blackout, but he still prepares himself for the answer, whatever it might be. 

“Oh yeah,” you reappear back in his room, carrying your little burgundy dress on a hanger in one hand, and a pair of killer Loubotin shoes in the other. Knowing you’ll probably need light, Billy lights up his phone again. “I told him to fuck off and call me when he grows a pair… which is never going to happen, so I’m sure as hell safe”. 

Billy can feel the colour drain from his cheeks as he suddenly realizes you may not be talking about that pathetic loser who suggested that you and him hang out, because he is a fucking coward and couldn’t ask you out on a proper date.

As you make a point out of ignoring him, Billy wants to smash his head against the wall.

And then it finally hits him.

Yeah, actually, you are still talking about that loser.

That loser being him.

He squeezes his eyes shut at first, as he hears you hassle behind his back, not saying a word; when suddenly something pushes him up onto his feet, a surge of adrenaline, the sentiment of now-or-never beating his common sense into submission, relative darkness encouraging him to do something he knows he might regret.

Billy turns around to face you, and from the moment he’s struck dumb by the sight before his eyes, he knows this entire situation is going haywire. 

His eyes hit your bare shoulders and exposed back. His stare slides down with the shirt that you are taking off, standing with his back to him. His eyes go wide and his pupils are blown out with lust as he catches a glimpse of the black lace underwear. As if sensing his burning stare, you half turn your head… Your eyes lock.

His breathing has yet to return to normal, but the next thing he knows, Billy is crushing your soft body into the cool wall, his fingers digging into your hips, his mouth ruining that vampire pout of yours. Biting and gnawing on your lips, he is surprised when you push your tongue into his mouth, your fingers snaking into his hair, pulling at it harshly. 

With some kind of wild energy pumping through his veins, fire of lust licking at the corners of his mind, Billy drags his lips along your neck and collarbone, running his fingertips along the lace-covered underside of your breasts. 

“Fuck, Billy,” you moan, your voice barely audible, your nails digging into his shoulders. “Don’t tease”. 

The way you say his name strikes deep within him, his erection rock hard and pressed against where you need him most, he likes to think. 

He has to remind himself that you have no idea how many times he has fucked his own hand pretending it was your lips wrapped around his cock. 

“I’m going to make you come into my mouth and then I’m taking you to bed”, Billy can feel a thorough shiver raking through you as he whispers the words against your swollen lips. A moan that escapes them is downright scandalous and Billy would chuckle if you didn’t unclasp your bra, silently surrendering yourself to him.

As Billy takes one of your breasts into his mouth, puckering his lips against your skin, you gasp, your hips moving forward. It’s only moments before Billy drops to his knees, his fingers rolling black lace down your legs. Billy’s tongue laps against the swollen bud of nerve endings between your thighs. His lips wrap around you, as he slides a finger up your wet, shuddering core.

With his dick pressing painfully against the fly of his trousers, Billy hears you moan his name again. When he looks up, he sees you open your eyes, watching him fuck you with his fingers. He feels you tighten around him, your eyes rolling back as you come, screaming his name and squeezing his hand in between your soft thighs, riding out your high…

—

“Stop staring at me,” you whisper with your eyes closed, feeling Billy’s dark eyes on you. He doesn’t say anything, just chuckles hoarsely and dives down, hovering over your body. His lips burn your bare hipbones as his hands squeeze as much of your ass as he can reach, your skin orange in the rays of the morning sun. 

“God, Russo, you’re insatiable,” you growl, but Billy knows you’re hiding a smile as you bury your face in a pillow. 

“You have no idea,” Billy smirks, kissing the spot just above your belly button this time. His lips don’t waver as he takes this party lower.

Your breath hitches in your throat, and Billy lifts himself up in response, his hungry lips crashing down on yours. 

Leaving you breathless, Billy hovers over you, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. 

“Do you think we fucked up Frank’s surprise birthday party?” you ask him, cupping his cheek with one of your hands. “I can’t believe we missed the entire happening. Karen is going to kill us both.”

Billy brushes his lips against yours one more time and from the soft yet mischievous look in his eyes you can tell he has absolutely zero regrets. 

“She hasn’t called, so I think they didn’t miss us much”, he wets his bottom lip. “Fifty bucks says they know what we were up to, and probably drank a round of shots to celebrate”. 

You roll yours eyes at him, but you know what he says makes sense. This dancing around each other and ‘we’re just friends’ crap was getting old, especially for Karen and Frank.

“So what now?” you ask him. 

The stare of those bottomless eyes burns again, possibly more that his touch as his hand slides up and down your ribs under the blanket. You bite on your bottom lip, hard, trying to keep a loud moan in.

“I don’t know,” Billy looks like he weighs his options. “You want to maybe hang out?’ 

This wasn’t what you expected, not by a very long shot. It’s out of your control as you gasp at the nerve of him, gripping his roaming hand so hard he actually winces, the Marine that he is. 

“Hey, easy there, m’love,” you freeze as the nickname reaches your ears. Billy uses your reaction to free his hand, bringing it to your face. His mouth is mere inches away from yours, and you feel your stomach erupt with what feels like hippopotamuses doing an Irish dance. “What I meant is have lots of sex, and maybe even a breakfast date?...”

[lovemalecforever]

Chapter 16

Angels and Immortality

After resolving the issue, Jace and Alec went in search of others and found them in the library, reading the history of parabatai.

"So, how does this procedure work exactly?" Jace spoke.

Izzy and Clary exchanged a look, then looked at Alec and smiled widely. "Finally, Jace! Glad to know you got back into senses." Izzy commented.

"I had my own worries, okay? Don't look at me like that!" He eyed both women.

"Okay, enough!" Alec said. "I'll call Cat and let her know!"

They all nodded and Alec left the room to call Catarina. After 15 minutes Catarina came with the book held in her hands with the help of her magic and met them in the library, she kept the book on the circular table placed in the library and looked at Alec worriedly.

"Alec, can I talk to you privately?" She asked, her tone visibly worried.

"Yeah, sure." He frowned but followed her outside.

They were standing in the hallway outside the library when Catarina voiced her concern.

"Alec, did you talk to Magnus today?"

"Yeah, in the evening. He seemed fine. Why, what's wrong?"

"Alec, I got a call from Miss Rose, she's Madzie's teacher here at NY, they've organised a world tour for all the warlock children, she was in Alicante to take Madzie. She left with her around half an hour ago. Alec, Magnus-"

"He's alone..." He said with concern dipped in his voice, instantly getting worried for his husband.

"Alec, are you okay?"

"I'm fine. I'm calling Magnus to check up on him, you go inside and explain Clary her part." He said. Catarina nodded and left.

Alec sighed, rubbed the bridge of his nose, then took out his phone from his pants pocket and dialled Magnus's number.

__________________

Magnus kept refilling his glass of Dry Martini, trying to wash away the emptiness and disappointment residing inside him. He was standing by the bar counter, eyeing the dance floor and ordering a new refill when his phone buzzed, he saw the caller ID and gulped. He quickly took the glass from the counter then put a sound barrier spell around himself blocking all the noise of the bar around him then received the call.

"Alexander, thought you wouldn't call. How was your day?" He said trying to sound cheerful.

"Hey, love. It was fine. What are you doing?"

"Oh, n.. nothing, just tucked Madzie into the bed, she's really stubborn and mischievous, didn't want to go to sleep. She finally slept just now. It was such a tiring day running around her. She's a sweetheart though. I'm looking forward to tomorrow, I'm thinking of teaching her some new tricks." He gulped, hating lying to him but he didn't want him to worry.

Alec clenched his fist tightly, anger seeping through his body after hearing a clear white lie from his husband. He took a deep breath to calm his nerves, not wanting to yell at him, remembering the state he could be in. "Magnus! Seriously!" He said coldly instead.

"Alexander, what? What happened?"

"Really Magnus!?"

Magnus was about to say something when realisation dawned on him. 'Shit! How can I be such an idiot! Catarina is with him in New York, she must have told him, and I lied to him right now. Damn you, Magnus!' he cursed himself.

"A... Alexander, I.. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to lie to you, I just didn't want you to get worried, that's all. I'm really sorry."

Alec sighed heavily. "Magnus, if you keep lying to me like this, how can you expect me to not get worried?"

"I... I understand and I'm really sorry, Alexander. I just-"

"Are you drinking?" Alec asked sternly, cutting him mid-sentence.

"What!?" Magnus was shocked by his sudden question.

"Are you drinking, Magnus?" He asked again.

Magnus looked down at the glass he held in his hand of Lilith knows what number of refills, and gulped nervously. "N..No. No, I'm not drinking, Alexander. I was just about to go to bed. Don't worry, I'm fine."

Alec rubbed his temples in frustration. He could clearly hear his hoarse and rough voice, the voice he always gets after infinite no. of drinking. But is still oblivious to the fact that his husband is at a bar in Germany and not at home. "Fine, Magnus. Just take care of yourself, love. I'll try to be back as soon as I can."

"Hey, do your job, shadowhunter, I'm fine, okay. I'll go to bed now."

Alec sighed. "Okay, I love you, bye."

"I love you too, darling."

Magnus sighed heavily when he cut the call and removed the barrier around him. He looked at the glass in his hand, rubbing his finger around the rim of the glass, he closed his eyes, thinking about the lies he just said to his shadowhunter, then opened his eyes and swallowed the content of the glass in one big gulp. He then paid the bartender and left, completely oblivious to the deep black pair of eyes watching his every move.

"Oh my love, so vulnerable, Magnus. It's going to be so much fun." The woman gave a vile smirk and disappeared into the crowd of people.

___________________

Alec sighed frustratingly. 'Why Magnus! Why do you lie to me so much? Why hide your pain? Why don't you talk to me? Just why?' he thought as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. He stood in the hallway for sometime, calming his nerves then walked inside the library, noticing everyone's eyes were on him.

"Are you okay, big brother?" Izzy asked, voice filled with concern.

Alec nodded in response.

"Alec is Magnus," Catarina started, but Alec cut her mid-sentence.

"Not fine. He lied to me again. He's drinking, even when I've warned him not to." He looked at Cat, noticing her worried filled eyes for her best friend.

"Can we just please get this over with!" Alec said in a low voice, everyone nodded knowing talking about Magnus will only worsen Alec's worries. Jace put his hand on his brother's shoulder and squeezed it gently.

The book was placed in the center of the table, and everyone took their places beside it, giving Alec one final look of reassurance.

"Clary? You know what to do, right?" Catarina asked, and Clary nodded.

Clary closed her eyes and focused her attention on calling Angel Ithuriel.

"I calleth upon thee, Angel Ithuriel. Prithee hark to mine plea." She repeated it like a chant several times but she frowned and opened her eyes when it didn't work.

"It's not working..."

"Is there something written in the book on how to call upon him?" Alec asked Cat, rubbing his hands over his face in frustration.

"No, there's nothing in this book for that. I've gone through it many times already. Sorry, Alec."

"Try something else, Clary. Maybe say it in your mind instead of saying it out loud. Don't stress yourself, just relax first then try again." Izzy suggested she saw the look on her brother's face and hated seeing him like this. She wanted to do anything she could to make her brothers happy.

Clary nodded as she took a few deep breaths to relax herself, then closed her eyes again and concentrated.

"The light to the darkness, the creator of our kind, the one we pray to. I calleth upon thee. Prithee hark to mine cries for thee. I plea for thy presence." She said in her mind, then started repeating it like a chant, just when she thought it's not working again, her body became stiff, she felt cold and felt like she's falling down from an infinite spiral of darkness, the world around her completely gone.

Everyone looked at Clary in shock when her body became stiff like a statue. Her skin became pale and she looked really peaceful like that.

"Guys, her skin is really cold." Izzy said when she touched her.

"Clary? Are you okay? Clairebear?" Jace asked, worried filled in his voice for his girlfriend.

"What's happening?" Alec asked.

Izzy was about to touch her again when Catarina stopped her. "I think it worked, we can just wait for now." She said and looked at the others. They all nodded and looked at Clary's stiff form.

Clary felt like she got stuck in an infinity loop when she finally felt ground beneath her. She got up and opened her eyes. When she did, she saw bright white light all around her. When her eyes adjusted to her surroundings she realized that she was in a forest completely covered in mist. There was the rustle of winds and whispers of distant forest creatures. The forest seemed like it was enchanted.

"Why did you call upon me Clarissa?" A heavenly voice echoed in the whole forest.

"Angel Ithuriel!" She looked around to find him, but there was no one.

"I'll only appear when you give me the reason for your visit." The voice echoed again.

"I need your help, Angel Ithuriel. My friends need your help. He has a request for you."

"What is that, Clarissa?" The voice was soft this time but still had the heavenly essence in it.

Clary explained to him all about Magnus and Alec and the situation they were in, and Alec's request to get an immortality spell from him. When she was done she saw Angel Ithuriel standing in front of her in all his glory. She smiled helplessly.

"Immortality is not something to gain, Clarissa. This spell was removed from existence because of the consequential damages it wreaked upon the mortal lives. I've only provided to those who have proven their worth that they'll cherish and respect it, not regret and waste it."

"Alec won't disappoint, Angel Ithuriel. He'll respect it till his death."

"I'm not risking it until I see it for myself, Clarissa. I want to see from his eyes why becoming immortal means so much to him."

Clary's eyes widened. "But, how?"

"Is that person sitting near you?"

"Yes."

"Then hold his hand and don't remove it until I ask you to." He said and put his right hand over her head.

Everyone was tense with Clary's state, she hadn't moved in the last 15 minutes. They all started to get worried when Clary moved her right hand.

"Clary?" Jace asked.

"Looks like she's searching for something! Clary? What is it?" Izzy asked.

"Alec!" She whispered, sounding completely different from her own self.

Everyone looked at Alec, and Alec moved his right hand forward and held her hand. He didn't feel anything at first, but after some time he felt a wave of energy flowing inside him and invading his mind and memories. He closed his eyes to block the sudden brightness which appeared in front of his eyes. After what felt like an eternity but were just ten minutes, he felt the energy withdrawing from him. He opened his eyes and saw that everyone except Clary was looking at him with shock written on their faces. Not long after, Clary withdrew her hand and went back into her trance state.

"Okay, that was weird!" Alec stated.

The angel removed his hand from Clary's head when he was done going through Alec's memories. Clary looked at him expectantly, desperately wanting to help Magnus if this was the only solution left.

"I see, that boy is really determined and strong. His passion and protective nature will make him even stronger. His intentions and heart are really pure. I'm ready to help him, Clarissa."

"Thank you, Angel Ithuriel."

The angel put his hand forward and a light golden colored ball appeared in it. "These are the spells, Clarissa. I'm giving it to you now."

He absorbed the energy in his hand and put his thumb on Clary's forehead.

They were all confused and shocked after what happened a few minutes ago. Alec was feeling restless, and others were looking at Clary and waiting for her to get out of her never-ending trance. Suddenly, Clary's forehead started glowing with bright golden lights.

"Clary! What the.." Jace exclaimed.

"Paper! Pen! Fast!" Clary whispered.

Catarina quickly summoned a pen in her hand and a piece of paper in front of her. As soon as Clary felt the pen around her fingers she started scribbling on the paper. Once she was done, the glow on her forehead stopped and she got out of her trance-like state with a loud gasp. She blinked a few times to adjust to the surroundings.

"Clary! Claire Bear! Are you okay?"

"I'm fine Jace." She said softly but suddenly widened her eyes at Jace. "Did you just called me...?"

Jace blushed, not realizing he called her by the nickname they decided not to say in front of others. He cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, didn't realize I said it." He pleaded with his eyes not to be mad at him.

"Aww.. as much as this is fun seeing you both like that, we need to know what happened." Izzy said mockingly, earning a glare from Jace.

"I got the spells!" Clary exclaimed while holding the paper in her hands. Everyone sighed with relief and she handed the paper to Catarina when she asked for it.

"So, what's next?" Jace asked.

As soon as he asked, a copper bowl with intricate designs over it, and a metallic dagger laced with emeralds and diamonds on its handle appeared on the table.

"Next is," Catarina said, "Clary, you're going to cut your palm with the help of this dagger and pour your blood in this bowl, then I'll perform the spell on it and keep it in the moonlight. Alec, I'll let you know when you have to reach the forest, I'll be present there already."

Alec nodded in response. Clary went ahead with the procedure, after filling the bowl to its brim, she felt exhausted. Izzy helped her by activating her iratze, healing her cut instantly. Catarina vanished the bowl and the book into her apartment then took her leave and left.

"So, you're going to drink my girlfriend's blood, I didn't say it before, but it's disturbing, Alec."

Alec glared at him. "Shut up! Jace!"

"Come on, people. Let's get some rest." Izzy said while dragging everyone out of the library and into their rooms.

*************************

*Next day at the early stage of dawn*

Alec stepped out of the portal into a jungle, where Catarina was already there completing the pentagram. The copper bowl with the blood already turned into golden white was kept on the ground. He looked around, it was dead silent, the stars were gone and the sky had started turning into light shades of blue. He could see the moon vanishing into the clouds.

"Alec, on time. You need to remove your shirt and step in the center of the pentagram. You have to handle me your stele and your pho-"

"I've already given it to Jace." He handed her the stele, then stepped inside the silver pentagram drawn on the ground. Then she handed him a bowl of blood.

Alec looked at the bowl in his hand and sighed heavily. 'I love you, Magnus. Always and forever.' he thought to himself, then looked at Catarina and nodded.

He took the bowl and placed it on his lips and started sipping on it, as on cue Catarina started performing the spell simultaneously.

With each sip, he felt a tingling sensation in every part of his body. He could feel the smallest of the sensation, the gentle wind touching his skin felt like millions of sharp needles poking on his skin. His blood rushing through his veins, the slow rhythmic beating of his heart, he was able to feel everything. By the time he was done drinking, he noticed that his whole body was glowing.

Catarina waited till he stopped glowing, then she stepped into the pentagram, stood in front of him, and placed the immortality rune right above his heart to seal the spell. Once she was done she stepped out of the pentagram.

"I have completed the procedure, Alec. Your awakening will start in some time and I can't stay here for that. It will be really powerful, so I'll leave now."

"Thank you, Cat. Your help meant a lot."

She nodded and smiled at him then created a portal for herself and left.

After sometime Alec felt pain surging throughout his body, he screamed and fell on the ground.

"It's not easy to turn into an immortal, Alec." A heavenly voice said.

Alec looked around and saw a man standing by the woods who was slowly walking towards him.

"A.. Angel Ithuriel!?" He gaped at the man who was looking glorious, a huge pair of white wings were fluttering by his sides and was in ancient clothing.

"Yes, it's me, Alec. You're really brave, but it's not going to be easy, child."

"I'll d...do my best, A... Angel Ithuriel! I.. I want this." He managed to say while gritting his teeth because of the immense pain surging in his body, especially on his spine and shoulders.

He screamed in pain and fisted his hands in the grass beneath him as all his pain got centered around his spine and shoulder blades and he felt his skin and muscles getting ripped and something crawling out of it.

He fell on the ground and screamed as loudly as he could, his eyes becoming watery when all the pain got focused on his ripped skin and his shoulders and back started getting heavy. He felt the blood oozing out of it and flowing down on his back.

He composed himself and started getting up when he felt the pain fading away, but heaviness was still there. His mouth fell open when he realized the source of the heaviness.

He stood straight then looked around himself and found a pair of 8 foot long appendages on either side. Before he could react his body started glowing again, his runes glowing a brilliant shade of goldish silver, his beautiful hazel eyes turned into a mesmerizing pair of icy silver, and his wings fluttering beside him.

The angel looked at him in complete disbelief, his eyes never leaving the newly awakened angeled shadowhunter.

"A.. Angel Ithuriel? Is something wrong?" Alec asked the wide-eyed angel, once he stopped glowing and his eyes turned back to hazel.

The older angel stepped forward and ran his fingers through Alec's wings, each feather carved in three different colors, white on the base blending into brilliant silver-tipped with a light tint of gold.

"Silver!" The heavenly voice stated. "Silver is a rare color for angels to have, Alec. You might not have realized, but your eyes turned to icy silver for a fraction of the time. The angels possessing silver eyes and wings are very rare and really powerful. They are supposed to be great warriors and protectors of the earth."

The older angel looked at Alec with gleam and pride in his eyes. "You were destined to become an angel, Alec Lightwood. If you wouldn't have chosen for yourself, destiny would have caught you up in some other ways. You're brave, strong-willed, a leader, with a pure heart who wants to protect his loved ones by any means. You are one of your own kind, Alec."

Alec's jaw was dropped on the floor and he was left completely speechless by the older angel's confrontation. His wings fluttered and curled around his legs in excitement.

"Wha.. I.." He looked at the wings curled around himself in confusion.

Angel Ithuriel smiled. "Your wings are part of your body now, Alec. They will react to your emotions and feelings."

"Oh! But on my shoulders, it's still painful. And the heaviness.." he trailed off, still confused by the new abilities he gained.

"That's why I'm here, you're here, in the bed of nature, nature is the source of our energy, it's going to help you. Now, let's help you control your awakened powers."

Alec nodded and stepped out of the pentagram with his new pair of wings and a newly turned immortal. He smiled to himself knowing he's an immortal now. 'Only for you, Mags. I love you, always and forever.'

[francoiserenaldt]

the emancipation of dizzy

desirée ashton is tired of being tired and the pills don’t hit like they used to. happy @it-lives-week. 

word count: around 3k warnings: some ableist language, cruelty, destructive coping mechanisms, lots of parentheses in here, negative thoughts, references to depression, strong language, there are sweet moments but a lot happens before then

“No.”

The word leaves her in a shout, crippling her as the nicks and scratches that litter her aching body give way to immeasurable pain.

But it’s not the wounds that hurt her most.

“No, no, no, no, no…”

She vaguely hears it behind her as she holds her brother in her arms for the last time.

Or so she thinks.

None of this makes any sense, she thinks.

Nothing she sees is real. None of this is real.

(Not when she puts Devon’s arm around her neck and drags him out of the cave to a stretcher, not when Noah tells them how unbelievably sorry he is for everything, and especially not when his body is found covered in blood 3 hours later.)

That night was a mistake; a terrible, terrible dream. Devon will be in his room when she inevitably has to go wake him up and Andy’s leg is fine and N–

No.

She refuses to think of him.

He fucked off and gave himself to the Power that night, effectively ending his life. She knows she should be thankful; after all, she knows herself enough to know that he wouldn’t stand a chance if he stayed in town after what he’d done. But the thought that he’d never truly get what had been coming to him, the thought that he’d gotten away with it, infuriated her.

Maybe he wouldn’t get what was coming to him, but it’s not too late to get the revenge she’d been itching for.

Jocelyn had been reduced to a sad sack of bones after she lost vision in her right eye and function in both legs and Cody–

There was no need to rehash that; he wouldn’t be a problem.

Unfortunately, Britney is still around; even more so now that Lily gave her another chance. She’s been making her idea of an effort, forcing a Joker-esque smile on her face any time Lily drags her over to the group and gritting out a compliment when she sees Ava’s new piercing or Stacy’s new shoes for the past two weeks.

It’s not enough.

“You know, it wouldn’t hurt my feelings if you just went back to ignoring or insulting us like you usually do,” Desirée smirks, shutting her locker. “It’s obvious you don’t want to be here.”

And we don’t want you here goes unsaid for Lily’s sake.

“Yeah, Britney,” Stacy chimes in. “Don’t hold back on our accounts.”

“Guys, please,” Lily pleads, glancing between the girls. “Can’t we just be civil for once?”

“Sure, I’ll go first.” Ava huffs, pursing her lips. “When’s the last time you put someone in a garbage bin?”

“I’ve never done that, you–” Britney pauses, taking a breath. “Ava.”

“Oh shit, you’re right. You had Jocelyn and Cody do it for you. How is Jocelyn, by the way?”

“You can’t even be nice for two minutes, can you?” Lily scoffs. “Unbelievable.”

Once Lily stomps out of sight, Britney rolls her eyes and whirls on the remaining girls. “The only reason I’m even letting myself be seen with you losers is for Lily’s sake, alright? So you need to get over whatever little beef you have with me.”

“Little beef?” Desirée spits, glaring venomously. “You’ve tormented Lily, Devon, and Ava for years.”

“And you blackmailed Stacy, which is a felony, by the way,” Ava adds, crossing her arms. “You’re lucky the Green’s haven’t sued your bitch ass.”

“You have no idea how extremely lucky you are that I care about Lily–”

“No, you’re lucky we care about Lily. It’s the only thing that’s keeping you from getting jumped.” Stacy snaps.

“Since you care about her so much, you should probably try showing a little restraint.”

“The fact that I’m not wearing you like a shoe right now is me showing restraint.” Desirée retorts before smiling innocently. “But if you really want me to drop the act, that can be arranged.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re excused.” Desirée quips, crossing her arms. “No, seriously. Leave.”

With yet another eye roll, she finally struts away.

“While I don’t disagree with you—like in any shape or form—saying what you said, you kinda threatened her. In public.” 

“Yeah, it would be a really bad look if you hit her, Dizzy.”

“Well, I didn’t, okay?” Desirée snaps, grabbing the last of her things. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

She stomps off without another word, just missing the concerned looks Ava and Stacy send her way as she goes.

“Desirée, wait up!”

Devon jogs up to her. Or tries to, anyway. She never stopped walking.

“Hey, do you mind chilling the fuck out?” Devon admonishes, stepping in front of her. “Lily is really upset.”

“I do, actually.” She sneers. “She’s always around, making these snide fucking remarks, and I wanted her out of my face.”

“And you think being a dick to her is the answer? ‘Cause it’s not.”

“Then what is the answer, Devon? Aren’t you tired of letting yourself get pummeled day in and day out by Britney’s goon squad for all for Lily to go running back to her in the end?” She growls. “Aren’t you tired of being everyone’s little bitch?”

His eyes harden just as hers soften. “Fuck you.”

“I didn’t mean that–”

“Yes, you did. You’re just the only one who’s enough of an asshole to say it to my face.” Devon turns to walk away. “You’re acting just like her, you know.”

“Don’t pull that shit on me, Devon. I’m not doing anything that she doesn’t deserve.”

He bites back a reply before sighing. “Getting revenge isn’t going to make you happy.”

“Our lives are permanently fucked, Devon. Nothing is going to make me happy.” She forces a smile onto her lips. “At least this way I get something out of this nightmare.”

“How long do you think that’s going to last?”

“Until she’s gone.”

Doing away with Britney is the easy part; the bitch is entirely too sloppy with her misdeeds and Stacy knows her pass code like the back of her hand. A mass text from an unknown number full of screenshots does her in and the family moves to the next town over within the month.

(She could always count on Stacy to have her back, especially when it came to Britney.)

Seeing the tears in Lily’s eyes and the disappointment in Lucas and Devon’s faces as Desirée watches Britney walk out of Westchester High for the last time makes it infinitely harder to keep the smirk on her face.

Hard, but not impossible.

(The high inevitably wears off and her friends won’t stop looking at her like she’s some kind of monster, but Britney is gone and that’s all that matters.)

(Until it isn’t.)

Two weeks pass before Lily speaks to her again.

“Do you regret it?” She whispers.

“I regret hurting you,” Desirée whispers back. It’s the closest thing to an apology she can muster.

It’s not enough.

“I wish you were sorry.” Lily loses the whisper then and there, glaring.

“I wish you understood where I was coming from.”

“Why aren’t you sorry?”

“Because I hate her, Lily.” Desirée snaps. She’s had to say this too many times. “And she treats you and Devon like complete and utter shit and I’m tired of you sitting back and letting her do it.”

“So you made her leave.”

“So I made her leave.”

Lily scoffs and turns away.

“I did it for you, Lily,” Desirée whispers. “Everything that I’ve done has been for you.”

“You have no idea how much I want to believe that.”

Devon returns and the conversation is over as quickly as it began.

No.

She feels the word creep up her spine and lodge itself into her throat before she hears it fall into a loop in her head, spiraling quickly out of control.

(She’s lost control again. What a surprise.)

She shakes the empty pill bottle until it flies from her shaking hand to her bed.

Her phone is in her hand within seconds and her fingers fly across the screen. Her vision blurs with unshed frustrated tears but she taps away relentlessly—desperately—until the solution she needs pops up and she can finally stop acting like her life is falling apart.

“Hello?”

Shit.

“Hey,” she replies, trying desperately not to sound like she’s on the verge of tears and failing miserably.

(All she seems to do is fail these days.)

“What happened, Desirée? Are you okay?”

The concern in his voice breaks her resolve and she lets a few tears fall, sniffling.

“Okay. Stupid question.” He shuffles around, then curses. Even in her chaos, she finds it in her to wince. “What can I do to help?”

“I don’t know if you can. Help me. I don’t know why I called you.” She murmurs, running a hand over her face. “I don’t know about much of anything anymore.”

“There has to be something I can do,” Andy mutters quietly, probably to himself. “Hey, what if I stayed on the phone with you? Just until you can sleep.”

The painful—and frankly embarrassing—reminder that it is two in the morning is more than enough to calm her hysterics. “Oh, um…that would be great. And extremely nice of you, which I’m not sure I deserve considering–”

“Nope. None of that.”

“Okay,” she sighs, effectively ridding herself of her wobbly voice. “I gratefully and humbly accept your help, your Majesty.”

His laugh is probably—no, definitely—the best sound in the world and for the half hour it takes for her to find peace, she gets to hear it over and over again. The magic of him dissipates the anxiety that had lodged itself into her chest and for a moment—and not a second longer—she seems to float.

Then she wakes up.

Her phone is dead, naturally, so she goes up to the corner store. Common sense tells her that Devon won’t let her walk to the store without insisting on getting Lucas to drive them.

You know he means well. Why aren’t you letting him help you?

“No.” She smiles at the cashier manning the register. “Thank you, though.”

She learns that faking a smile becomes easy once you spend enough time doing it. Enough time has passed that no one questions it and those who can see through it don’t have the heart to draw attention to you.

The silence is almost peaceful.

You’re not letting him help you because you know you don’t deserve it.

(Until it isn’t.)

Her earlier turbulent and destructive thoughts were good for one thing; they distracted from the whispers and stares that followed her every move. She doesn’t bother listening to what they’re saying at this point—it can’t be anything the mayor or her parents or Cid haven’t told her—but they come from everyone; even the teachers mutter when she lingers too long on a test question or takes a little longer to answer a question.

(“It’s not like her to take so long.”)

The comments should make her angry. They should make her want to cover up her abnormal habits or threaten to have their jobs if they don’t mind their own fucking business.

But there’s nothing. Nothing they say matters. Nothing anyone says or does matters.

She eventually stops speaking to people. Anything urgent will be said to her directly and repeatedly, like a newborn puppy that’s just learning commands.

(“Please call Mom and Dad, Dizzy. They’re worried about you.”)

(“Please talk to me, Rée. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”)

(“Desirée, please pick up the phone.”)

For people who’ve known her all their lives, they’re terrible at taking hints.

Her own brother has given up on getting her to have dinner with him consistently; he just goes to Lucas’s house when he wants company.

Lucas, of all people, has become more approachable than her.

Why would Devon want to spend time with you? Why would anyone after the way you acted?

Her mind—for its many, many faults—is the only thing that hasn’t left her. It buzzes about incessantly, asking questions it has no answers to. This time, she doesn’t wait to answer them.

You told him that he was the world’s punching bag, that he was weak. At least he didn’t turn out anything like you. You have enough weaknesses to fill an encyclopedia.

Devon may be a little bitch, but he’s a little bitch with a boyfriend who hasn’t given up on him. Can you say the same?

No, the voice prattles on gleefully. Of course not. Andy’s already got pain in his legs; he doesn’t need a pain in the ass on top of that.

What’s the point?

Why bother picking up the phone? It’s not like anyone is calling her, or anyone would pick up the phone.

Why bother going downstairs for dinner? She’s just going to be eating it alone.

Why even bother leaving her room? No one wants to see her and, for once in her life, she doesn’t want to be seen.

So she’s content to stay right where she is. She can’t hurt anyone but herself here.

The universe, naturally, has other plans.

One day, Devon throws open her bedroom door. “Get dressed.”

“What the hell are you doing in my room? Get out!”

“Yeah, not happening. If you’re not done in 20 minutes, I’m dragging your ass out of bed myself.”

“As if you could pick me in the first place. Please fuck off.”

“Maybe not by myself. I’m sure Lucas and Dan would be happy to help, though.” He smirks as he turns away. As he goes, he sings, “20 minutes.”

Ughhhhhhh.

In her annoyance, she had failed to realize that all of her friends had been invited to the house.

He said that Lucas and Dan were here earlier, idiot.

“Hey, stranger,” Ava drawled when Desirée appeared at the banister. She was sprawled across a sofa by the coffee table, which she was promptly shoved off of once the words passed her lips.

“Seriously, Ava?” Stacy hisses before turning to face Desirée. “It’s good to see you again.”

It’s at this moment that she realizes that she dropped off the face of the Earth and stopped talking to her friends without an explanation.

You’re actually the worst friend ever. Why do they even bother with you?

“Hey, guys,” she says, looking at everyone. They all seem to be happy—relieved, probably—to see her, but something about the situation feels…off. “What’re you all doing here?”

“I thought we could have a game night,” Devon smiles (carefully? hesitantly?) at her as he gestures to the setup. He’s got just about every board game they’ve ever had on the table, from Candyland to Cards Against Humanity. “It’s been a long time since we’ve all done something together.”

All because you decided to be antisocial and moody.

“Right.” She swallows. “So what’s first?”

The afternoon passes easily. She’s far too wrapped up in the ecstasy of being around her best friends to think about anything other than kicking their asses in board games, let alone–

No. We’re having fun.

At least they were until Lily walked over to her after a particularly successful round of Cards Against Humanity.

(She doesn’t need to ask if they can talk in the kitchen, which just so happens to be tucked away from the living room where everyone sits.)

(Desirée doesn’t need to ask her if they’re speaking again now or if Lily plans on this being the last time they speak.)

Lily taps Desirée on the shoulder and they find the corner of the kitchen furthest from the living room.

“I forgive you,” Lily says once they’re alone.

“I’m not sorry,” Desirée warns. Lily can’t hate her any more than she already does; there’s no use being backward about how she feels.

“I don’t care.” Lily steps forward and before Desirée knows it, they’re hugging. “I’m not losing you over a girl.”

“Wait, wait…you’re not mad anymore?”

“I was being unfair,” Lily says, letting a hand come up to rub her bicep. “On a lot of fronts.”

In the spirit of not ruining her good mood by unpacking her behavior, Desirée opts for humor: “I was being a total bitch myself, so I’ll forgive you. Just this once.”

“Do I get another pass if you get first dibs on the unicorn plushie?”

“Maybe,” she smiles genuinely for once and tugs Lily back into a hug. “Now come back. I missed you.”

“Not as much as I missed you.” Lily replies, hugging her even tighter. “Now let’s go before someone tells Andy that he’s out a girlfriend.”

It’s easy to forget how good of a friend Lily is when she’s not simping over Britney.

Desirée slings an arm around Lily’s shoulders as they leave the kitchen. “You’re ridiculous, Lil.”

Devon raises an eyebrow when they walk back to the group. “Are we all good?”

“Yeah, we’re good,” Lily grins.

Yeah, we are good. Until you fuck it up again.

Eventually they leave (everyone leaves) and Devon sits next to her once they finish cleaning up the games.

“This is the first time you’ve come out of your room in–”

“Three weeks, Devon. I know.” She sighs and walks over to the staircase. “I’m going to bed.”

“No, wait,” Devon rushes, grabbing her hand. “Just be still and shut up for a second. I need to say this.”

“Fine.” She walks back over to him, albeit a bit petulantly.

“Remember how I was when Noah,” he pauses carefully and continues when he doesn’t see her flinch, “first came back to school and he said all that stuff about how Jane was gone because I didn’t blow the whistle? And how I completely shut down? You told me that you’d never thought you’d see the day where I’d stop talking to you completely and I couldn’t make sense of it. I guess this is what it must’ve felt like.”

“You’ve been angry, you’ve been really fucking jumpy, and now you’ve completely shut me out for three weeks, Desiree. I haven’t been away from you for that long since, like, the womb. So I guess what I’m saying is,” he pauses again and sighs. “You’ve never given up on me, even when I was being a self-pitying asshole who would have deserved it. So you take all the time you need because I’m never, ever giving up on you.”

“Does this mean that you’re gonna drag me out of bed every day?”

“No, it means that I’m gonna to let you stay in this slump you’re in. That being said, I’m probably going to drag you to the dinner table. Eating alone sucks.”

“Eating alone has been rough,” she agrees.

“So you understand?”

“Yeah…yeah, I understand. I’ll try to be better.”

“That’s all I can ask from you.”

He steps closer and she puts a hand up. “Oh my God, do not hug me, you dork. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Promise?”

“Promise. And Devon,” Desiree frowns. “You wouldn’t have deserved to be given up on. No one does.”

He nods once and they head up the stairs together.

She finds herself back in her therapist’s office a month later, fielding the usual questions.

“Have you spent an entire day in your room this week?”

“No. I haven’t been back there in about a month now.”

Okay, it’s really been more like three and a half weeks, but semantics. It’s not like she’s the only one who lies to her therapist.

Dr. Chamberlain smiles gently. “That’s good.”

“It was hard, but I’ve learned not to hate him.” She clears her throat. “Noah, that is.”

“Could you forgive him one day?”

“Every day I look at the people I care about and I see how they’re still affected by the things he’s done. I don’t–” She pauses. “I don’t know if I could ever forgive him.”

“Every step in the right direction is a good step, Desirée.”

It’s far from the first time that her therapist has said those words and she knows it most certainly won’t be the last.

“Desirée?”

“Oh, sorry.” Desirée sits up. “What were you saying?”

“I was saying that it’s been a crazy few months for you, but you’ve come such a long way.”

“What if it’s not enough? I did a lot of things I can’t come back from, Dr.”

“I don’t think that’s true.” Dr. Chamberlain glances at her watch and sighs. “We’re just about out of time.”

“Thank you so much. I’ll see you next week.”

“One more thing, Desirée?”

“Yes?”

“Give your friends more credit.”

Desirée nods as she closes the door.

Her phone rings.

“Desirée, thank God! Can you please tell this man that studying is a portmanteau of “student dying” for a reason?”

“I’m probably the worst person you could’ve called for this.”

Devon groans. “Ugh, I forgot how much of a nerd you were.”

She hears a throat clear itself on the other end.

“Right. Lucas wanted to know if you were down to form a study group for finals. I completely understand if you’d rather swallow nails one by one or whatever weirdly specific torture you’re into–”

“If I say yes, does that mean you’ll stop talking?”

“…for now.”

“Deal. I’ll be there in 20.”

She ends the call and sends him a text.

desirée: you don’t have to tell me that I’m the best, or that you’ll actually buy me food the next time you go out. I just know you’ll do it bc you love me so much.

devon: …i really don’t like you, you know that?

desirée: sure, and I know you’re lying your ass off <3 see you at home.

[awaywithwords03]

The Last Interview with Peter Watson-Lea

ACCESS TO DOCUMENT PROHIBITTED

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 ACCESS TO FILE “PETER WATSON-LEA” GRANTED

 “Below is a transcript of the last recorded interview with Peter Watson-Lea. Recorded on the 24.2.22 at Chester County Medical Hospital by ERR. NAMES REMOVED. It is part of a series of testimonies to provide evidence for the existence and potential danger of the artifact known as the Evelyn Bones.”

 For the tape, my name is Peter Francis Graeme Watson-Lea, I am 42 years old, unmarried, I served in the great war as an artillerist and until recently I worked as an investigative journalist. I have no family to speak of, I was raised by my aunt after my parents were killed in a house fire. Oh, it was freelance, I worked as a freelance journalist. I came to this hospital of my own volition, as what I beheld gave me such disturbance as to make me question my own sanity. Start at the beginning? Yes okay.

 Pause.

 It was about a month ago, the beginning of the new year, I received a tip off from an anonymous source. I can’t remember the words exactly, apart from the last line, but the tip off pointed me in the direction of a place called Burnes College in Yorkshire and told me that there were things there worth looking into, that would be of interest to me and my work. Naturally, I was skeptical… I’m sorry? Oh I did say that didn’t I. The last line of the letter was “Keep your own eyes open, let the truth in.” I just thought it was a strange sentence, “Your own eyes”, as if I was going to be seeing to anyone else’s or…

 Pause.

 The train ride was rather pleasant, as you’d expect for that part of the world. Beautiful rolling green vistas with the occasional blur of purple or black heather with the hills in the distance like the shoulders of grey giants. To my surprise I was met at the station by a man dressed like, I want to say a priest? Or some kind of monk? He wore a long smart coat, like a cassock, with a white silk scarf, embroidered with strange designs thrown over his shoulder. His head was completely shaven and his features were sharp enough to cut glass. He was pleasant to talk to, telling me his name was Prest and that he had been expecting me. When I asked him how he waved the question off with an amiable nature and bade me follow him, promising a hot meal and hospitality, and explaining that all would be clear once we were back at the college.

 I did so, and soon found myself in the passenger seat of a well-kept Austin motor vehicle trundling down narrow country lanes and deep into the moorland. Prest talked freely about the location and where he had grown up, pointing out his old parish and a few pleasant landmarks, but he had precious little to say about the college, aside from the fact that he was a tutor of sorts there. Though in hindsight, tutor is far from the right word. He wasn’t at all uncomfortable with who or what I was and said if anything it was welcoming to have someone come and shed some light upon their little college. “Write all you can!” He declared with gusto, “Write till your lead wears to powder, your nib breaks and all the ink in Europe runs dry! Your insight Mr Watson-Lea is incredibly valuable to us. While you are in our care, every luxury shall be yours, be it food, drink, literature or any other pleasure. We want you at your best.”

 I enquired as to Provost of the College and Prest told me that his name was Provost Penbrooke.

 Pause

 I’m sorry errm, the College? Yes, the College. It’s a funny shaped building, with a strange mix of gothic architecture, some Italian columns and, I dare say some domes. It’s as if the building has been assembled by a blend of multiple architects from multiple generations, all mixed up in a pot, and tipped into a valley. Of course, I was totally lost by the time we reached there, but I remembered the signpost to the nearest town, Tellingham. We pulled up in the drive to this large manor and a pair of strong looking lads, dressed in a similar way to my new companion came down the steps and helped me with my luggage. Of course, by this point you must realise that I could not believe my luck. I am not a wealthy man, and as a former soldier finding a job had been very challenging, especially a freelance one. So, to be treated as a well-to-do sort was extremely humbling.

 “The provost would like to see you immediately.” My host insisted after a brief exchange of words with the two porters and I was escorted hastily up the stone steps and into Burnes College. Inside it was dimly lit by gas lamps and decorated with statues and effigies of strange gods and creatures I didn’t recognize. Creatures with humanoid and yet inhuman limbs with too many fingers and eyes a plenty. Strange fetishes and weapons etched with runes that made my eyes itch and Yhtog mylet. Tredgiy thethleikt…

 TAPE CUTS

 …orry again about that. I find it hard to think about what happened there.

 Hmm? Oh yes it does make me frightened. I don’t think I knew what true fear was until this moment, now on the other side of that terrible venture. But I will brave it, I know that I need to tell you what happened there, and the consequences should I fail…. Doesn’t bare thinking on.

 They led me up a labyrinth of stairs, past lecture halls and creaking shelves teaming with books, of which I had no hope of recognizing. Eventually we began ascending a spiral staircase, all made from carved stone like a castle and hung with portraits, like those one might encounter in rich ancestral homes. We immerged at the top of, what I can only call a tower, though I did not recall seeing one when I arrived. The room had a wonderful, panoramic view made possible by a single piece of curved glass that made the roof of the tower appear as if it was floating above us. It’s colour was tinted a toxic yellow, and it stank of ozone and sweat. Inside it was arranged like a study, with heaps of books on the floor, an ancient looking desk scattered with writing implements, notes and drawers. Lastly staring out of the great window was its lone occupant.

 The provost was bound to a wheelchair and looking out to the distant yellow tinted hills. Well, when I say looking, he was faced toward the view of the outside. He wore a flowing discoloured white gown, that spilled over the wheels of his chair, and upon his head was, what I can only describe as, a bulbous be-jeweled crown. The crystals and shapes upon it, resembled growths like tumors more than decoration and it gave me a queasy feeling to look upon it. Then he looked at me. And the face, oh that face…

 Pause

 What manner of injury had occurred to that man I shall never know, and never want to know. He had sores and boils, that blistered and crusted his entire face from the base of his nose upward. His eyes were completely gone amidst the mass of these red pestilent growths, and yet despite this as his sightless face turned to me, he smiled as if greeting an old friend. “Mr Watson-Lea!” He proclaimed with a voice soured by untellable age and honeyed by false warmth. “My word, it has been a long while that we have been searching for you!” When I asked him what he wanted with me he turned his chair without using his hands and it wheeled toward me as if pushed by some phantom force. “Your heritage my boy.” He replied, “Don’t you recognize your ancestors upon the stairs?”

 I suddenly began to feel very enclosed. Sweat prickled the back of my neck as the idea that I had been drawn into a trap began to close in on me. “The third from the top,” Penbrooke began, “Is Nathaniel Edward Francis Prendergast, born 1762 and died in 1884. The second from the top is James Michael Francis Prendergast, born 1854 died just 4 years ago. He died here in fact, in this very college.” I remind you, my parents were killed in a fire, or at least they were supposed to be. “Your surname, your true surname is Prendergast. The woman who raised you was no more your Aunt than any of us here. She was an abductor, denying you your true destiny.”

 I was too…. Terrified… awestruck… spellbound to speak. So instead, he spoke for me, gliding forward in that sinister manner on that chair and reaching out with his warped gnarled hands. “I will show you the bones, and you will read of them just as your father did and his father before. The translations you will provide, rib by rib, vertebrae by vertebrae will reveal wonders to you.” And like that he produced before me a single white bone. I am no doctor, but I could tell that the bone he held out to me was not human. It was elongated, and twisted like an ancient tree branch, crooked at alien angles. But worst of all was the writing. Runes that were as far removed from letters as could be imagined, covering the bone from tip to haft like the image of dancing figures in some horrific festival.

 And yet

 Pause

 Sorry… I could understand them. They came to life before me and made perfect sense, things aligned in my skull and my understanding of the world deepened, opening beneath me like a bottomless abyss. Black infinite and tarrying and I could feel myself falling. The terror. Oh, the terror was so much, my heart became water and washed my body with a quiver beyond description. I think I must have suffered a fit, for when I came to my senses I was in a bed. Opening my eyes, I was in a darkened room, of stone bricks and low wooden beams, covered with a thin sheet in a four- poster bed. A tiny arched window let a sliver of morning light in through my window and as I pushed myself to sit, I felt a searing agony in my hand and looked down to behold the ruin that you see before you.

 Hmm? Oh yes. For the sake of the tape, my hand has become permanently fused with a quill. It appears to be melted and reshaped to only be able to hold this strange spike that constantly leaks an ink from it. The pain I confess is maddeningly toxic. It burns like a fire under my skin and at the same time, I crave it… I enjoy it…

 Pause

 I’m writing down everything, yes.

 I’m doing it so that the ink doesn’t pool in the gland, for that only adds to the agony. I cannot stand to not be writing now. This is the cursed gift they have given to me, should I not be translating what was on those accursed bones I shpoyt julithyc myatholatrem brekrept yuklimpt a

 THE TAPE MOMENTARILY CUTS BEFORE RESUMING

 Are we recording again? I’m really sorry about…

 THE TAPE CUTS

 …ow much did I translate? I thought you would be more concerned with how I escaped that wretched place! Why do you even want to know what I… Oh God… It’s you… Please, please let me be. I’ll do anything I’ll… Please!!! *Screaming*

 THE TAPE CUTS

 THE FOLLOWING COULD BE HEARD IN THE WHITE NOISE THAT FOLLOWED THE TERMINATION OF THE INTERVIEW

 They’re here…

They’re here…

They’re here…

They have come…

The bones, The bones, The bones, The bones, The bones, The bones, The bones, The bones, The bones, The bones, The bones, The bones, The bones, The bones, The bones, The bones, The bones, The bones, The bones, The bones, The bones, The bones, The bones.

 End

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[iamalivenow]

“Objectively, objectively-” Melanie tries to say, with a straight face. “Objectively if you had to pick a cosmic horror terror to pledge your entire life to willing-” Daisy chucks an empty paper cup at her and she breaks down into a fit of laughter.

“Objectively, I'd pick neither. None.” Jon says from the couch.

“Objectively, you're no fun.” Melanie mumbles. Daisy, who's also sprawled out on the couch, taking up way more space than Jon- with her legs in his lap nodded sagely as if there was any space to have this conversation.

“I think if I had to pick, I'd go End.” Basira comes in with another bottle stolen from someone's upstairs office. It's not like any of them would get in trouble for it. “It seems low effort.”

“Ha.” Daisy's voice is dry. “All you do is research anyway.”

“Right, but, and this is very important.” She fills up a cup with amber liquid and passes it on to Jon, who's still holding his last one. Maybe it's meant for Daisy when she decided to sit up like a normal person again. “The Eye can choke.”

“Here here.” Melanie knocks back the rest of her drink and then holds out her cup.

Jon has no idea how they talked him into this- it was just another quiet day, Melanie out doing errands, Basira in the library, and Daisy and Jon in his office, recording statements- well he was recoding statements. Daisy was doing something that looked like Yoga if it was even slower.

“Jon, your turn.” Daisy nudges him with a foot and he has to lift the two cups he's holding.

“Why my turn?”

“Because you've been doing this the longest.” And after a second, “And you've had the least to drink.”

He sighs and Melanie goes off on another set of giggles.

“I don't want to be part of any of them- if we're talking about life goals and aspirations, I'd have a nice house in the country side far away from all of this. With a cat.”

“You're a cat person?”

“He is.” And Melanie fumbles to get her phone out. “Georgie showed me this for blackmail, hold on-” And before Jon can stop her, or even try to stop her, because again, drinks and legs, Melanie is showing Basira the video of Jon dancing with The Admiral. It was four in the morning, they had just gotten home from some unremarkable party and Jon had been consumed with the all too human need of bothering a cat right then. The Admiral was so soft- still is.

“Oh my god.” Basira brings the phone over so that Daisy can stare at the screen too and Jon is still helpless. He should set these down. “I don't think I've ever seen you this happy before.”

“Yes, well.” He says, face a little flushed.

“Your hair wasn't always gray?”

“Of course it wasn't!”

He didn't know that Georgie had filmed him until she had shown it to him a few weeks later.

“Jon!” He almost jumps when Melanie calls his name. “Jon. Answer the question.”

“I don't know.” The video finally quiets down. “Spiral, I guess?”

“Justification?”

“Do I need one?” Jon sighs. A justification- “Free travel, I guess.”

“Why not vast then?”

“Scared of heights.”

“Huh.” Daisy says, a grin on her face. “Makes sense considering you're tiny.”

“I'm a perfectly normal height, thank you very much. It's not my fault all of you are so tall.”

“Melanie's only a higher bigger.”

“It's still not my fault, certainly.” And he finally pushes Daisy's cup into her hands. She's going to spill it on herself but that's no longer something Jon entirely wants to prevent. “What about you then?”

“I've thought about this before.” At stakeouts, she means. Jon doesn't blame her. It's a lot of time spent doing very little. Not that- Not that he ever went on one, but- “I think maybe I wouldn't hate the heights as much.”

“Really?” Basira doesn't sound all that surprised. “You did always want to travel.”

“Would it be so bad to just, get out there? Aside from the heights.” Another nudge with her heel. Jon can't blame her, the temptation after what they've been through is certainly there for him. He can't imagine what that desired weightlessness must be like for her.

“And you, Melanie.”

“I don't know.” Basira laughs, and Jon's glad. Glad, now, that they talked him into this. It's nice, listening to them be happy with him.

“You brought it up.”

“Come on.” Jon smiles now. “Objectively, if you had to.”

“Yeah, well. Objectively, I'm fine with End too.”

“What-” Jon, Basira, and Daisy all say it in unison, varying inflections but indignation all there. “Be original!”

“Listen-” Melanie giggles again, light, airy, followed by more drink- “Low effort is worth a lot. I'm a chief researcher- I'd love to sit on my ass all day.”

“Then you'd just end up like Jon. No offense, Jon.”

“I mean it's partially true, at least.”

“I don't know.” She smiles again- almost privately- and pushes a strand of hair behind her ear. “Something comfortable about inevitability.”

It rests in the air, as the rest of them go quiet, until it's just their breathing and the flickering of the lights. That point in the party- the lull, he guesses. It's not nearly as awkward as he thought it would be, maybe because they're all a little day drunk or maybe because he's gotten so used to Daisy being quiet beside him and it's just like that, but more.

He never would have met any of them- well Melanie maybe eventually, through Georgie at Some point, but he likes to think they're friends. Or at least friendly. He knows with some misplaced confidence or maybe divine intervention that he and Daisy are friends, truly. They don't have a lot of talking points outside of work, sure, but true friendship can be found in comfortable silence.

“Do you like books?” He asks out of the blue- true and natural curiosity.

“They're all right.” Basira says. “Do you still read?”

“I used to, when I was younger. When I was eight.”

“Younger younger.” Melanie says, like a clarification. “Audio books are fine sometimes. For commutes, or whatever.”  

“That feels like a betrayal somehow.” Jon clears his throat. “To the authorial intent.”

“God.” Daisy's head is dipped all the way back over the arm of the couch. “You're so pretentious.”

“I'm sorry we can't all listen to radio plays.”

“Oh, you can listen to them. You just choose not too because you think you're above common folk entertainment.”

“You can like soap operas.” Basira's smiling from her seat. “No one but Jon is going to think less of you for liking soap operas.”

“I'm not going to think less of you for liking your repetitive family drama.” That gets him a kick in the ribs and half of his drink down the front of his shirt. “Daisy-” Melanie, who was already busy snickering from her seat, starts laughing in earnest. Basira in her infinite kindness passes a stack of napkins over.

“Whoops.” Daisy's up now, sitting and dabbing away at his shirt.

“It's fine. You didn't mean it.”

“Yeah.” It's a small thing, her taking the time and effort to try and clean up the stain slowly forming across his shirt. It still makes him happy, in some small way, that someone is bothering to, that his first impulse isn't to snap and lurch away.

“Are we winding down?” Basira gets up. “I still have research.”

“You're drunk.”

“That's what's going to make this fun.” She puts a hand on Daisy's shoulder before leaving as quietly as she came in the first time.

“What about you?” Jon asks, looking up. “Any work?”

“None that I'm going to do.” Melanie sighs. “Maybe I'll head out early, call all of this pregaming.”

“Stay safe.” Daisy calls, not even bothering to look up.

“You two also as well. Both of you two too. Hm.” Melanie gets up. “No good way to say that.”

“Just you too?”

“Well I didn't want to leave Jon out.”

“I appreciate the sentiment. Tell Georgie-”

“Yeah, yeah.”

And then it's just Jon and Daisy, kind of drunk in the break room.

“How did you know she was heading to see Georgie?”

“I- Oh.” Jon sighs. “You know.” And Daisy, his friend, his maybe only friend who he's on really good terms with, pats his head like he's five. “What are you doing?”

“Comforting you.”

“Ah.”

“Should I stop?”

“I- No. No. It's nice. That's nice, just like, objectively. Are you drunk?" She shrugs.

"Does it matter?"

"Not- Not really. You just don't usually-"

"I don't usually need to comfort you. If you hate it I can stop."

"I already told you, I don't mind."

"Uh huh." She says slowly, and pats his head just a little harder, like she's trying to a prove a point. "Your hair is soft, actually."

"Why do you sound surprised."

"You look like you have old man hair."

"I'm thirty."

"And yet your hair- easily eighty." Basira comes back four and a half hours later.

They haven't moved.

[clamatoes]

Who is Wallace Stevens? Read “A Primitive Like an Orb”

“A Primitive Like an Orb” is, to my mind, the most representative of Wallace Stevens’ poems. Ubiquitous Stevensian features include...

- Ars poetica - Self-conscious fixation of the poem making it a sort of möbius speech, always diverging merely to converge back upon itself - Whitman's repetitions and internal accusatives dragging the mind like licking surf into oceanic deeps of man's meaning & origins, almost the process of mantras by the Ganges - The whimsy of coinage and blithe Emersonian "wildness" and freedom of command, at least as rendered by a Taft republican who ran the legal department of an insurance company (cf, eg, "oaten cake"). This spunk of speech, in its more Bach gigue-like, herky-jerky incarnations - what we find, for instance, in "The Comedian as the Letter C" - betokens a wry, acerbic, and grotesque self-parody, intentionally overwrought and disgusted with the poet's instinct for overwriting, but which here carries us unironically into the fullness of the poet's ecstasy even full-knowing of the transience of this ecstasy - A passion for exactness that manifests ironically in vociferous proliferations of near-hits rejected apophatically but successively more and more prized, like jewels in the crown which is someday to be placed upon the head of some unutterable precise "THIS": a "THIS" which will give way immediately upon its seizure to yet another "THIS" just off in the distance, and become itself yet another jewel in the crown for that next "THIS" - The ceaseless luxurious music buoying what is really a philosophical spiraling drill as it screws into strongholds of "The Truth" with the glee of a Poundian god.

But the poem is Stevens at his most Stevens especially in stance and theme. It lays out his essential Neo-Keatsian metaphysics of beauty as truth, which is cognate with Pound's "periplum" whom Stevens (almost too) steadfastly refused to read (and vice versa). This "periplum" is Pound's hermeneutic of knowledge as irreducible and imposible to abstract from an endless heuristic process of discovery, each first-order instance "sailed to" as a sort of "fact-harbor" adumbrating a second-order category or principle, but each second-order category in turn yielding to multiplicity and a never-ending voyage no less than the first-order instances: never ultimate, never final, because the final Truth is this very process of discovery itself, a process of Platonic becoming as opposed to Platonic essence or being ("nothing is final" Stevens has Whitman chant with his beard of fire and staff of flame walking along a red shore, in another poem: "no man shall see the end"). There are in fact ideas, the seen forms of Plato are no doubt real, says Stevens, and yet the very nature of reality is a give-and-take dialectic between self and world and other selves and ideas, which can never be described in a metaphor of stasis: nothing is anything, even itself, except in its participation, its interchange, its communion, with everything else. The static forms of Plato are the death of the intellectual voyager and of the idea to which she sails, life is ceaseless change, an endless circuit even for the mind, which discovers truth only in performing the very interminable process of discovering truth.

In "A Primitive Like an Orb," this stance is epitomized by Stanzas IV and XII, which assimilate poets faithful to their unique perspectives to the faithful of a monotheistic religion with a jealous divinity, and to lovers faithful to a single beloved jealous against other loves:

“One poem proves another and the whole, For the clairvoyant men that need no proof: The lover, the believer and the poet. Their words are chosen out of their desire, The joy of language, when it is themselves. With these they celebrate the central poem, The fulfillment of fulfillments, in opulent, Last terms, the largest, bulging still with more,” 

.......

“That’s it. The lover writes, the believer hears, The poet mumbles and the painter sees, Each one, his fated eccentricity, As a part, but part, but tenacious particle, Of the skeleton of the ether, the total Of letters, prophecies, perceptions, clods Of color, the giant of nothingness, each one And the giant ever changing, living in change.”

One moment of rapture, an analog of a Platonic form, suggests innumerable other but equal grades up Parnassus (in that this e.g., lover's, or religion’s, or poem’s beauty was obviously philosophically accidental to what was reached), and clarifies beyond skeptic scrutiny the sublime terrors of the peak, which lies beyond the particularity of any given path taken to reach it. Stevens’ metaphysics is then a meta-Platonism, in which even the sun-like form of “The Good” is merely one face of the true ultimate meta-Good (the “fulfillment of fulfillments,” or meta-fulfillment, of the “central poem,” as Stevens puts it), which cannot be arrived at except in the never arriving anywhere, the never ceasing from journey to, and then beyond, every “The Good” in an infinite circuit (as Stevens says elsewhere, in the crucial "Somnambulisma," "resembling a thin bird,/ That thinks of settling, yet never settles, on a nest"). Such a moment of pan-directioned grandeur, this meta-Good, is arrived at, however, only in the monomaniac tunnels of desire, which ironically, in their one-dimensional, linear verve reveal the tangled labyrinth of thought that evidences if not construes the stereo-solid, every-singular real. The whole is ever and always known in the curriculum of a part, all the parts of which, together, reflect each other, and in series (though perhaps not in parallel), make up the great poem of abstraction beyond any power to abstract: known only in the concrete act of following the course of one true love to its completion, madly forsaking all other paths to the summit until it is achieved.

Here’s the poem’s full text...

“A Primitive Like an Orb”

I

The essential poem at the center  of things, The arias that spiritual fiddlings make, Have gorged the cast-iron of our lives with good And the cast-iron of our works. But it is, dear sirs, A difficult apperception, this gorging good, Fetched by such slick-eyed nymphs, this essential gold, This fortune’s finding, disposed and re-disposed By such slight genii in such pale air.

II

We do not prove the existence of the poem. It is something seen and known in lesser poems. It is the huge, high harmony that sounds A little and a little, suddenly, By means of a separate sense. It is and it Is not and, therefore, is. In the instant of speech, The breadth of an accelerando moves, Captives the being, widens--and was there.

III

What milk there is in such captivity, What wheaten bread and oaten cake and kind, Green guests and table in the woods and songs At heart, within an instant’s motion, within A space grown wide, the inevitable blue Of secluded thunder, an illusion, as it was, Oh as, always too heavy for the sense To seize, the obscurest as, the distant was...

IV

One poem proves another and the whole, For the clairvoyant men that need no proof: The lover, the believer and the poet, Their words are chosen out of their desire, The joy of language, when it is themselves. With these they celebrate the central poem, The fulfillment of fulfillments, in opulent, Last terms, the largest, bulging still with more,

 V

Until the used-to earth and sky, and the tree And cloud, the used-to tree and used-to cloud, Lose the old uses that they made of them, And they: these men, and earth and sky, inform Each other by sharp informations, sharp, Free knowledges, secreted until then, Breaches of that which held them fast. It is As if the central poem became the world,

 VI

And the world the central poem, each one the mate Of the other, as if summer was a spouse, Espoused each morning, each long afternoon, And the mate of summer: her mirror and her look, Her only place and person, a self of her That speaks, denouncing separate selves, both one. The essential poem begets the others. The light Of it is not a light apart, up-hill.

 VII

The central poem is the poem of the whole, The poem of the composition of the whole, The composition of blue sea and of green, Of blue light and of green, as lesser poems, And the miraculous multiplex of lesser poems, Not merely into a whole, but a poem of The whole, the essential compact of the parts, The roundness that pulls tight the final ring

 VIII

And that which in an altitude would soar, A vis, a principle or, it may be, The meditation of a principle, Or else an inherent order active to be Itself, a nature to its natives all Beneficence, a repose, utmost repose, The muscles of a magnet aptly felt, A giant, on the horizon, glistening,

 IX

An in bright excellence adorned, crested With every prodigal, familiar fire, And unfamiliar escapades: whirroos And scintillant sizzlings such as children like, Vested in the serious folds of majesty, Moving around and behind, a following, A source of trumpeting seraphs in the eye, A source of pleasant outbursts on the ear.

 X

It is a giant, always, that is evolved, To be in scale, unless virtue cuts him, snips Both size and solitude or thinks it does, As in a signed photograph on a mantelpiece. But the virtuoso never leaves his shape, Still on the horizon elongates his cuts, And still angelic and still plenteous, Imposes power by the power of his form.

 XI

Here, then, is an abstraction given head, A giant on the horizon, given arms, A massive body and long legs, stretched out, A definition with an illustration, not Too exactly labeled, a large among the smalls Of it, a close, parental magnitude, At the center of the horizon, concentrum, grave And prodigious person, patron of origins. 

XII

That's it. The lover writes, the believer hears, The poet mumbles and the painter sees, Each one, his fated eccentricity, As a part, but part, but tenacious particle, Of the skeleton of the ether, the total Of letters, prophecies, perceptions, clods Of color, the giant of nothingness, each one And the giant ever changing, living in change.

[tessatechaitea]

New Titans #113

In Dick Grayson's memories, Starfire and Cyborg were Christ figures while Aqualad spent 100% of his time trying to suck his own dick.

When my beloved cat Pelafina died a few months ago at eighteen years old, my eulogy was simply this: "She was the best gift I was ever given." And then the Non-Certified Spouse just sent me a picture of some Lobo socks that our friend Xan wants to give me and I just said, "Now Pelafina was the second best gift I was ever given!" Just in case anybody was wondering just how dedicated I am to my hyperbolic love of Lobo!

How do I show these off? Shorts while wearing long socks?! How gauche!

And just for comparison so you can truly understand the infinite limits of my hyperbolic nature which can declare those socks better than Pelafina, here is Pelafina for comparison. I am not responsible for your hearts melting.

I just ordered Koji Suzuki's Loop, the third novel in the Ring saga. Spiral was so fucking yo-yo bananas that I figured they could never make a movie of it. But I was wrong, being that I think like an American and no like a Japanese. Because they audaciously made a film of it (Rasen) and I watched it a few days ago. Inexplicably, the movie remains completely true to the book. I say "inexplicably" because this is the first time I completely expected a fuck-ton of changes to the premise and the plot. I naively thought, "There is no way they're going to make a film where the curse of the video tape jumps into the journal of the reporter from the first movie because it somehow senses the report will be a more virulent mode of transmission. But then almost immediately, the virus will be all, 'You know what? What if I infect this guy and have him fuck this chick? That means I could spread to her in a much more normal virus-y way!' And because that might make the entire premise of the Ring series less supernatural because now the virus has suddenly decided to spread like a normal virus instead of like some techno-virus spawned in the dank and smelly recesses of some 4channer's basement lair, the story will have to introduce a new twist! Now the virus won't just kill! It will cause the woman infected by the virus to give birth to a clone of themselves except possessed by Sadako, the woman who climbs out of the television in The Ring. Which is a premise no movie audience would ever be expected to swallow! Especially when the plot also asks you to believe the virus can clone anybody one Earth through the Sadako clone as long as you possess their DNA and understand in vitro fertilizaion! Oh, and also the clone is birthed at the exact age the person died? Or the sample was taken? I don't know, it's all so confusing that nobody would ever make that fucking movie." So, anyway, good for you, Japan! You did it! You win again! Seriously though. How is Loop going to be any crazier than Spiral?! I can't wait to find out! This issue begins with Dick Grayson helping to rebuild the Amazon village where Kory broke up with him. He's showing some emotional growth as he contemplates the naked chest of one of the villagers, Maria-Theresa. If you're now thinking, "That's an odd name for a native of the Amazon," have you done any reading on missionaries? Whenever anybody tells me all the good religion has done for the world, my entire rebuttal is the word "Missionaries!" screamed at the top of my lungs. I've finally decided to embrace the phrase, "Brevity is the soul of wit." Why should I have to explicate my missionary argument to another grown-ass adult who should understand the whole bullshit idea of spreading their religious dogma to other cultures? How does that help anybody?! Oh wait, I forgot. It lets Jesus collect more souls so he can stick his tongue out at the devil and say, "Nyah, nyah! Hallelujah! Amen!" Dick realizes that he's been a selfish child and constantly expected Kory's emotional support for his problems while always sighing and rolling his eyes at all of Kory's problems. Which might be a step up from his paternal role model who did all of those things but to a butler because he thought women were just for fucking. Is that a step up? At least Dick was trying not to treat all women as penis cozies? At least all non-red-headed women! I've lost my train of thought. Again.

Oh yeah! Dick was learning to forget about Kory through emotional growth and new boobies.

The rebuilding of the village ends with a big celebration after getting the cross on top of the rebuilt church. That makes me super sad. How many Amazonian Rain Forest Gods were displaced due to this incursion of Christian bullshit?! I hope they become super villains. Dick loves how quickly the villagers manage to rebuild the village without somebody taking control as leader. Maria tells him, "Yeah, dumbie. Is that the right word? 'Dumbie'? Anyway, we all know what we need to do and we do it without anybody standing back and judging our every movement like some dark controlling knight!" And Dick is all, "Yeah! I wish that would work with the Titans! But how can I trust Changeling to turn into the right creature without me telling him? And how can I make sure Cyborg will synchronize using his white noise cannon while saying 'Booyah'?! And I'm just supposed to trust that Raven won't rape and impregnate everybody we meet with her father's demon babies?! Pshaw! No way!" What I'm trying to say is that Dick hasn't really fucking learned anything. At least not yet! I'm still just a few pages into his journey! Dick takes a canoe down the Amazon while contemplating his life. I think maybe Maria slipped him some hallucinogens. Although most of his thoughts are on his friends and loved ones and how they've always been there for him and how he hopes he hasn't let them down and how maybe he should celebrate those who died as heroes while none of his thoughts are about how he's lived five thousand years or how that monkey keeps looking at him or how the number three seems to connect all of reality and explain the meaning of everything and why the fuck is that monkey still looking at him and have you ever wondered why you push pause on the remote to pause a show but then can push pause again to unpause it? Like, is it its own antonym?!

Seriously though. In 113 issues, did Dick ever lead the Titans into battle? Weren't the battles all just relatives and/or old villains attacking the Titans directly, without any say from Dick? Also, I kept in the Starfire side boob for you perverts.

Dick eventually blames his self-absorption for why he was raped by Mirage. He blames himself for not realizing he was with another woman who just happened to be able to shape herself like any woman. I guess maybe when she was all, "I'm going to put this strap-on straight up your asshole, okay?" he could have wondered why Kory didn't realize she was shoving the bat-grapple gun up his ass. So, yeah, maybe it was kind of his fault. I don't think I'm victim blaming when I'm just shrugging my shoulders and letting the stupid victim blame his stupid self. Some son of the world's greatest detective he turned out to be! He couldn't even tell his dick was in the wrong vagina! Dick's navel gazing causes him to plummet off of a waterfall which pretty much sums up his entire situation over the last hundred or so issues. I'm not sure if Marv Wolfman meant for it to be the case but I guess I have to assume that he did, no matter how much I don't want to. Oh, also, he doesn't die. He just has a revelation as he falls that maybe he didn't cause Jericho's death or Terra's death or Cyborg's death or Kole's death or Danny Chase's death or whatever other Titan deaths I'm forgetting since there have been so many. Also maybe Kole didn't die. She might just have been super boring. At the end of Dick's journey, the Narrator declares, "Dick Grayson was once The Boy Wonder. But today he has become a man!" Maybe this was the beginning of the end of my hatred of Dick Grayson! Marv was all, "I'm done writing Dick Grayson as the angry kid trying to live up to Batman's legend! From now on, he'll be his own man, compassionate and thoughtful!" Also, maybe Marv just continued to write him as a bitter asshole and I was right not to like Dick Grayson until the 21st Century. The prologue features Starfire on a satellite in a garden throwing a snake back to Earth from orbit. Maybe she's the one on hallucinogens? New Titans #113 Rating: C. I like that Dick Grayson supposedly grew up in this issue but I'm not sure how he really changed. The entire premise that he considered his life and what he should be doing distracted him from the waterfall ahead was just Dick repeating all of his life's errors. But somehow this time, he had a revelation? Whatever, Marv! I guess I just have to accept when you tell me through the narration boxes that Dick is now a man!

[bngtnblues]

iniquitous

genre: unrequited love!AU + non-idol!AU + angst

note: my dumbass didn’t realise the consequences of changing my URL so here’s me reposting my first bts scenario ever written yikes so pls forgive me for the cringeyness. credits to @softjeon for this GLORIOUS GIF :3333

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader

blurb: Seeing him on the train made you fall in love and then seeing him as your best friend’s fiancee made you fall in love with him even more, unfortunately.

word count: 2,457 

The first time you saw him was on the train.

Earbuds stuck in and eyes sealed tight, you wondered how on earth someone could sleep through a ride where bumps and noise were an affliction to rest. He leaned on the window opposite you and blew out wisps of air, making the glass cloud up in patches. You couldn’t help but marvel at his face, analyzing it from afar just as you would when preparing to draw.

He definitely had a face that captures one’s eye. Chestnut brown hair parted in the middle and a jawline predominantly shown as his head rested on the side. If only you knew what colour eyes he had.

You worked hastily with your fingers, pencil gliding across the paper, making sure to seize everything, from his nose to his slender neck before time ran out.

The train reeled to a stop causing the stranger to finally open his eyes. His eyes. Large, doe eyes with specks of nut-brown in them that held hints of sleep still embedded which made all other features shrink away from giving him an aura of innocence. Your hand twitched to draw them but you were too entranced to the point if you looked away, you would forget how they looked like.

The stranger stood up in a hurry, earbuds stashed away as he strode towards the doors, moving past you giving the opportunity to get a glimpse of his stature. The ding! of the train doors opening was heard and you watched him disappear from your sight, leaving you with a sketch and a scent of strawberries.

The next time you saw him, he wasn’t a stranger no more.

The man on the train became to be known as Jungkook and he was the date your best friend continuously talked about during your midnight calls.

It was your friend’s Taehyung’s birthday party when Jungkook walked over to you, hand in hand with Lisa,  and those familiar eyes and strawberry scent caused your heart to speed in the process. When she introduced him to you as her boyfriend, your heart abruptly stopped for a second.

“Y/N, Y/N, meet Jungkook.”

You gazed over at him, his doe eyes timidly staring at you. You forced a smile  on your face as you said,” So, this is the guy you couldn’t stop rambling about.” Your best friend shyly giggled and doe-eyed boy breathed out in relief as he looked over at her and grinned. He started talking to you, his voice smooth and velvety, a voice that made you jealous of your best friend for hearing every day. But, as usual, you replied like a stranger would. As if the day on the train never existed. You excused yourself, lying to go to the bathroom but in honesty, you needed a drink to erase every kind of feeling you once had towards him. It was too dangerous.

Looking back, you watched them afar as Jungkook grabbed her fingers, stiffened from worry, to bring up to his rosy lips. You watched as your best friend fell in love with the strawberry-scented boy who, no matter how many shots you took that day, you couldn’t help but fall in love too.

The last day you saw him, you knew you had no chance but pull back.

There was never a moment in your day where his residence was missing. Either his doe eyes were watching a movie, you, of course, being the third wheel or a coy smile would form on his lips as he talked about his music. He shed his shy demeanour to show you his competitiveness, his childishness, his true personality which you didn’t expect. He became a friend.

A friend.

You promised to distance yourself from the day you met him but the more you talked with each other, the more you fell into the boundless trap filled with his charming smiles and assuring words that you couldn’t escape.

When you found out Lisa was engaged, your scant of hope flew from your grasp as you listened to her on the phone meander on about how he took her to the place they met and wrote a song to her and got down on one knee and proposed.

Proposed.

He was engaged, too. And right then, you wanted to hate Lisa for being the perfect girl with the gorgeous legs and having a heart of an angel. You wanted to hate her because she effortlessly got him from just a smile and a giggle.

Him.

But most of all, you wanted to hate him with all your soul could offer. You needed to hate him.

“What!? You have to be my maid of honour, Y/N!” Lisa yelled at the phone.

You sighed with exhaustion, “I really can’t. I’m getting relocated, remember?”

“Yeah, but that’s months away and it isn’t as if you’re moving early or anything.”

Your lips bite with guilt as you say, “The gallery needs extra assistance for the exhibition so I am… moving early.”

A veil of silence cloaked the conversation. You were anxious if she noticed your little lie.

Finally, she spoke, “So, you won’t be able to make it to the wedding?”

“I-I’ll try but it is a ten-hour flight and-”

“I really can’t believe you, Y/N,” and then she hung up.

When you thought the worst has come to an end, you realized you still felt those whispers of remorse deep down. She was your best friend. You lied that you can’t come to her wedding because you were in love with her fiancee and the sight of them together, infinitely infatuated with each other, made you hate yourself for being a fool of an antagonist of this bitter story.

It was on particular Sunday that you really knew how this all ended. It was supposed to be a Sunday where you finished packing the last remnants of your apartment and left without any unwanted farewells,  none from Lisa, who stopped calling, much to your dismay, and, of course, none from him.

Every feeling you once held hidden came crashing down on that Sunday.

“Y/N.” Jungkook exhaled as he entered your apartment without any warning. He was dressed in a large coat and black jeans as you walked past you, fresh strawberries creeping into your nose. You always did wonder how he smelt continuously of that.

“You’re seriously leaving?” He glances around the almost-empty place before giving you a frown.

Your heart battered, helplessly, and you clamped your fingers tightly before making your way to a bookshelf to gather the consumed sketchbooks.

“Looks like it. They need extra help at the new gallery.”

“You can’t just leave, though. You know Lisa needs you at the wedding even if she’s too stubborn to say it,” you hear his boots step towards before grabbing the pile of paper from your hand. Hands touching in the process, you feel his cold, slender fingers graze yours, just for a second, before disappearing to firmly hold the books in his hands. You expected him to unload the books into the empty cardboard box lying on the wooden floor but instead, he places them right on the bookshelf. Your breath got stuck for a moment and you squeeze your eyes shut with frustration.

His state of having positivity competed with his stubbornness. It was one of the reasons why you hated to love him.

“Hey! I need this apartment done and dusted so I can leave tomorrow, so if you’re not going to help, leave!” Please, do leave.

He turned around with swiftness and stared wide-eyed at you with those eyes of his which you promised yourself to avoid at all costs.

“You’re leaving tomorrow? Y/N, what the hell?” Jungkook exclaimed.

“Look, I’ll get you some coffee. Your hands are freezing-”

“No!” He asserted as he gripped onto your arm. You were utterly surprised at the tone of his voice, let alone his touch on your bare arm. You immediately yanked your hand from his grasp, shivers spiralling through your arms, already missing his touch.

“Lisa will find someone else to be the maid of honour. The wedding will be fine without me there,” you muttered, your head turned from him so he wouldn’t see your dazed face.

“Were you ever going to tell me that you were leaving tomorrow? What the hell’s gotten into you, Y/N? You suddenly don’t come over anymore, you barely show up at any of the parties, you stopped talking to Lisa…hell, you even stopped talking to me.”

“hell, you even stopped talking to me.”

You remained still, your fingers wavering over a sketchbook on the shelf. Your mind halting from precipitance. He wasn’t supposed to say that.

You swivelled around and met him with a forced smile on your face.

“I’ll go get you a cup-” he shot you a look and you broke your sentence momentarily to sigh,” and after, we can talk.”

“Y/N, I swear to god, Y/N-”

You raced off to the kitchen, pretending not to hear what he said. Grabbing all the utensils to make freshly-brewed coffee, your head screamed for you to regain some moral sense, for rationality and stability to be reinforced into your brain just like they once were. He didn’t mean any of that. You thought to yourself. You certainly know he didn’t mean that. You were completely sure. He loved your best friend.

Not you.

“You know, that recording company I applied for a month ago?” His voice is heard from the lounge, probably annoyed from the abrupt end of the conversation.

You responded with prudence, making sure nothing seemed out of the ordinary, “Oh, yeah… did they reply back?”

“Yeah, yeah, actually, um… I got offered to work as executive producer under their label.”

You nearly spilt coffee onto your hand. You recalled the time when he was bustling with nerves and how he couldn’t stop rambling on about the company and their reputation. It was adorable laughable at that time. A warm memory that you wish you could leave behind.

“Holy shit, Jungkook! Executive producer, huh? See, I told you would get the job.”

You could hear his content laughter. A sound you hoped you could leave behind.

“It all seems like a dream, you know? I was so sure I wouldn’t get it even if I had a flawless record of accomplishments.”

“Oh, shut up. I see your ego’s still alive and well,” you try to come off as nonchalant. “But what does an executive producer do anyway? It seems like your topshit or something.”

There was drawn silence from the other room. Your eyebrows furrowed with puzzlement as you expected a sarcastic answer from him. Grabbing the cup of coffee, you walked out of the kitchen to see him holding one of your sketchbooks.

He looked up, his eyes filled with confusion and uncertainty. The high amounts of confidence that you had earlier rushed out of your body, your eyes drooping from seeing the opened page he held.

The sketch of him in his most natural and stunning state.

The sketch you did on the day when you first saw him.

He watched you, afraid even, scared if one word falls out of his mouth, anything could go wrong.

“Y/N.”

You gripped yourself onto a chair with your free hand as you shakily placed the mug on the table.

“Don’t.”

He knew now. It was so obvious. Sketchbooks filled only with traces of pine trees and orchards but only one page held a sketch of a person. And that person knew how you felt.

He stepped closer, keeping a steady distance away from you. Jungkook opened his mouth but closed it, only a few syllables slipping from his lips in a weak effort to form a reply.

And you felt sorry for him at that moment. He was a guy who believed that no matter, something good will happen at the end. With all his optimism and warmth he gives off when entering a room, it was hard for you to see him in a state where he would hurt someone. Which is good, you thought. Rejection is the only way to end this misery. This is what you needed to hear after all this time. But why does it feel so unfair?

“You can see why I can’t come to the wedding,” you chuckle with no humour, staring off into the churns of the hot coffee, avoiding all eye contact with him.

Again, he stepped closer, the familiar strawberry scent of him reaching your nose, “Y/N, you can’t expect-”

You curtly cut him off, standing up with hostile eyes.

“Expect what, Jungkook! That you were going to suddenly reciprocate the feelings I have for you since the day I saw you on that damn train? That you were going to leave Lisa for me? That, maybe, all this time you felt some kind of way towards me besides a friend?”

His eyes widen as he sees tears prickle around your eyes. You never cried. Even when you broke your arm from trying to hang his birthday painting. You shook it off with laughter and cursed yourself for being a clutz. Your strength and determination. It was something he admired about you.

“Y/N,” he walks closer to grab your arm but you push him away.  He wouldn’t see you cry. “Look at me.”

The fleeting waves of emotions swirl inside you, the anger and the realism pressing to be released.

“Please don’t, Jungkook,” you turn your sideways, the tears threatening to roll down your cheeks, “Whenever I do, it still reminds me that I’m still in love with you, so please just say it. Please… just say that you can’t ever love me like that and it’s better if I leave because, honestly Jungkook, it’s exhausting to be in love with someone you will never be with.”

You feel his finger, cold and slender, wrap around your hand as he pulled you towards him, your head landing on his chest. And when he tips your chin upwards with his finger and scrutinizes your tear-filled face when you told the bastard not to, you can’t resist but stare into his eyes, his beautiful eyes, which held an emotion you can’t put a finger on.

And then he wipes your tears away gently with his thumb and kisses you.

It lasted for twelve seconds. His delicate, lush lips met your chapped ones for twelve seconds. And during those twelve seconds, you felt serene enough to forget that he wasn’t yours. You felt serene enough to feel his lips, unparalleled and unimaginable like any other. You felt serene enough to pull back from the euphoria and face reality once and for all.