#is finally letting herself make (frankly bad) choices and letting her rage out and went oathbreaker and is trying to enter her bad bitch er

[uselessgaywhovian]

how to bring up to your dungeon master that your character might be better if she got railed

[happy-whumper]

The Collab of Clueless Chaos - Chapter two

After a lot of struggle (and a lot of help from @whumpasaurus101 xD) i finally finished this chapter xD But i did have a lot of fun with it ngl~

Asher and Rodger belong to @whumpasaurus101

Lee's Masterlist / My Masterlist

First chapter

CW: Cursing (Olivia and Asher...what do you expect xD), slapping, pet whump

Olivia pushed a strand of hair out of her face and let out a deep breath, feeling the adrenaline rushing out of her body, leaving her absolutely exhausted. She always forgot just how much energy these types of things took out of her. At least she had the satisfaction of winning, especially after her opponent had been such a giant pain in the ass. And well, it was nice not having to deal with Nicolas' bad mood for once.

Now she was just sitting in the -luckily empty- changing room trying to gather enough energy to actually move. So far she was rather unsuccessful at that to be completely honest but since Nick was off somewhere doing...whatever it was that he was doing anyways, it didn’t really matter, so she just kept sitting there, staring at the floor in front of her.

Rodger breathed heavily, trying to take control of his anger. He was in the corridor of the fighting building. The door opened and Rodger could hear footsteps getting closer, “Good match. I guess I could say your dog put up an alright fight,” The voice chuckled. Rodger’s head snapped up to see Nick standing in front of him.

Suddenly he smiled, “Nick! How are you doing? I must say, I am very impressed with Olivia. And that trick at the end, genius!” Nick chuckled and bowed his head, “Thank you. I've had her trained tough, let's just say she has a lot of anger she can use to support her.”

“Tell me about it! Jesus Christ, Asher has the absolute worst temper, I have no clue what happened today though. But I swear I'll make him pay for it.” Nick leaned against the wall opposite Rodger, “Hey now, he was quite good, he just had tough competition.”

Rodger laughed, “That is true indeed.” There was a small silence before Rodger spoke, “Say, you wouldn't like to go out for dinner tonight, would you? You seem like a nice enough gent.” Nick smirked, “I'm honoured,” he joked, “That's perfect, I’ll see you tonight at Island Indigo, 7pm.”

“See you then”

And with that the two men went to check on their pets.

*

“God I just cannot with guys like that!” Olivia was pacing up and down in the basement, just as she had been for the past 10 minutes. “You know it's always guys who Think they're the absolute greatest and Think that I don't stand a Chance because I'm a girl. What Kind of bullshit logic is that?! God!”

Rain was watching her with big eyes from his place on the bed and slightly tilted his head to the side. Theo, who was sitting next to him, rolled his eyes and let out a slightly annoyed sigh, “You could also just be happy that you didn’t lose, why are you even still talking about it now?”

She shot him an annoyed glance and turned to him, “Because it is a matter of principal, Theodor. That and because for some god damn reason I have to see him again today. Could someone tell me again why I have to deal with the fact that Nicolas needs to make more friends? Can’t he do that without me having to suffer because of it? But nooo that would just be too easy, wouldn’t it?” She threw her hands up and let herself fall onto the ground, leaning with her back against the wall, ignoring the pain that cursed through her whole body as a result of the sudden movement.

“I mean, at least you could maybe..I don’t know, make a new friend as well?” Rain was still looking at her with a slight smile on his face. Olivia rolled her eyes but couldn’t help a slight grin, “Mhm, yeah because we had such a good start to our relationship already.”

*

Olivia stared at Nicolas in absolute disbelief “I am absolutely not-” He made a gesture with his hand, immediately causing her to stop talking. “You are not given a choice here. You did good today, now you wouldn’t want to ruin that, would you?” There was a cold smile on Nicolas face, completely lacking any empathy. “Besides, you should really be grateful if anything.”

It took all of her self control to not punch him in the face right then and there, instead she just took a deep breath and narrowed her eyes. “Oh well thank you so much,” she mumbled it more to herself but apparently Nicolas had still heard. Now he was looking at her with raised eyebrows and a dark expression, the warning clearly written over his face.

“What was that?”

Olivia knew that tone well enough by now and she felt a cold shiver running down her spine. She hadn’t completely messed up yet but he was reaching a limit in his patience. Frankly, she was surprised it had even taken that long. “Nothing...Sir.” She had to force the last word out, every inch of her skin felt like it was resisting it. But maybe for once it was better to not make him angry when it wasn’t necessary.

Luckily he seemed satisfied with her answer, a pleased smirk replacing the previous dark look on his face. “That’s what I thought.”

With that he handed her the dress and turned around to leave again.

“You got 10 minutes.”

*

Nicolas looked at Asher’s arm which was now in a sling. The bandages on his shoulder were slightly visible under his button-up shirt. “So, Antonio, that’s Asher’s trainer, right?” Rodger nodded, sipping his glass of wine and setting it back down on the table, “Yes! He’s truly great. Puts up with none of Asher’s bullshit. No matter how hard Asher tries to get out of things or how defiant he tries to be, Antonio simply doesn't put up with him. And puts him back in his place if you ask me.”

Nicolas nodded, thinking to himself, “You know, Olivia actually needs a new trainer.” Olivia’s head snapped over to Nicolas, eyes wide and jaw clenched. She heard Asher snickering quietly from where he sat. “Does she now?” Rodger asked, smirk wide on his face.

“Do you think Antonio could put up with another mutt?” Rodger chuckled, “A mutt who fights as good as her? He’d be more than happy to take her! She’d definitely make more money for him than Asher does.” This time it was Olivia’s turn to laugh quietly at Asher, who shot daggers at her with a death glare.

“Well guess you’re not the favourite anymore, huh Ashy boi?”

All of a sudden there was a burning rage in his eyes and before Olivia could fully register what was happening he leaned over the table, presumably in an attempt to hit her. Before he could really do anything Rodger was quick to react and grabbed his shoulder - the one that was still in a sling -, pulling him back before slapping him hard across the face, causing Olivia to flinch even though she wasn’t the one getting slapped.

But she had been in the past. She had been exactly where Asher was right now and for a moment she felt a sting of guilt in her chest.

That was until she saw the murderous look Asher was giving her now. From the corner of her eye she also noticed Nicolas watching her, as if he was waiting for her to act out as well. But she was not going to give him that satisfaction, instead he just shot him an annoyed look before focusing back on Asher again, who was still glaring at her as if he wanted to punch her. “I just let her win anyways!” Even though he was looking directly at her, he was clearly more talking to Rodger who didn’t really seem to take that statement seriously.

“Mhm, yeah sure you did Ashy.”

Lee's Taglist: @likeit-or-whumpit, @milk-carton-whump, @yesthisiswhump, @as-a-matter-of-whump, @appy-polly-loggies, @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi, @myst-in-the-mirror, @tears-and-lilies

My Taglist: @starnight-whump, @jordanstrophe, @froggywhumpy, @whumpasaurus101, @as-a-matter-of-whump, @jojothepanwithoutaplan, @myst-in-the-mirror, @darklyria, @whumpsweetwhump

[blodreina-noumou]

what would the show have had to have done to be considered good for you? I thoroughly enjoyed my time watching the show, so I look back at it fondly.

Oh god, where do I even begin?

For starters - if you’re one of the people who enjoyed The 100 in its entirety, good for you! That’s awesome! I don’t want to diminish that. These are just my feelings and my opinions, and I don’t intend for them to make anyone else feel bad for what they like. The ending could’ve been much worse, I’ll give it that. And there were obviously moments I enjoyed throughout the final season, and the series as a whole will still stand (unfortunately) as one of my favorites.

HOWEVER.

I found the ending thoroughly disappointing. It robbed our characters of any of the development they made in the final season, for the sake of propping up Clarke (canonically, that is why they stayed.)

The final season provided us with some really fascinating journeys for our characters. Without recapping the whole season, I can say that I really liked where Octavia, Emori, Murphy, and Echo ended up in their respective arcs. They all had to overcome their past tragedies to fulfill new roles. It was interesting and engaging.

The show itself provided us with so many interesting conflicts, with so many different groups who had competing goals and ideals. On some level, it promised us that peace was not possible until these folks all learned to work together and stop killing each other. That was the goal, all along. 

Survival of the human race was the first goal of the show, and survival of the human race is only possible if they (a) stay human and (b) survive.

Neither of those things happened by the end. The goal of our protagonists - the thing they allegedly existed for, in their stories - to save the human race and survive and thrive and all of that, did not happen for the vast majority of people.

Transcendence and the final scene on the beach erases all of the hard work they did in showing us those character journeys, and in making us invest time and energy into different groups that would only continue to suffer assimilation and homogenization by the end.

What was interesting to me about our main characters - Clarke, Bellamy, Monty, Raven, Murphy, Octavia, Emori, and Echo - was that they appeared to be the ones best suited (according to the storytellers) to save the human race.

The moment the show introduced the Grounders, I wanted a political thriller that I was probably never going to get. I accept that. 

What I cannot accept is that they erased all of their conflicts with a convenient deus ex machina, and everything that our characters learned is more or less pointless because of it. I’ll focus on their s7 arcs, but I think it applies to their entire storylines.

Octavia learns about her brother’s way of raising her and comes to forgive him for it. She becomes a parent herself. She manages to bridge the gap between two cultures yet again (Bardo and...everyone else, I guess) by falling in love with Levitt. 

She will never utilize any of those skills again. Hope no longer needs a parent. There will never be another culture different from them again. She and Levitt will never have children.

Murphy learns to put value in the group, and to recognize his own abilities as a leader and as a man. He saves multiple people in Sanctum, becoming their protector and their shield. 

Emori learns to put value in herself, and to recognize her abilities to empathize with outcasts and those deemed “less worthy” by society. She becomes a queen in her own right, a protector and a diplomat.

No one will ever need them to fulfill these roles, ever again. There was no point in them leading those people.

Echo had to go back to a deeply painful role, one which has cost her dearly in life - a spy among her enemy. When she’s brought to her lowest, to the brink of committing genocide, it’s her love for her family that keeps her from going over the edge. She reemerges as herself, recognizing that her painful past does not define her, and she can find love despite it.

Too bad the love of her life was murdered by Clarke!

I wanted our heroes to save the human race, not be the only humans that ended up saved. Does that make sense?

Clarke gets the closest thing to a happy ending of anyone, since she was the one who insisted for seven seasons that “[her] people” were the most important thing in the world, and that she would stop at nothing to protect them. Welp, now there’s nothing to protect them from. Her genocidal rages get a little slap on the wrist and then she gets to spend an endless beach day bossing everyone around and pouting.

It just sucked.

I hate the magic hand-wave of all of the conflicts. You can try to tell me that transcendence was a choice all you want. Plenty of people chose the City of Light, too. That didn’t make the way it erased their individuality and personal goals okay. Frankly, the ending to me feels like everyone just decided to go into the City of Light anyway. And sure, they keep their bad memories and some semblance of individuality, but what do those things even mean when you just one blip of a species that works, moves, lives, and decides things as one?

They didn’t overcome their tribalism. All of the other tribes just got assimilated into the borg. And sure, they maintain some semblance of personality once they transcend - we know that because of Madi’s message to Clarke. But what kind of lives are they going to have as part of that big glowy shit? Madi never gets to grow up, or fall in love, or pet dogs again. (Picasso is always going to wonder where her new best friend went.)

And who were those alien assholes anyway? Who are they to say that their way is better, that they have the right to judge entire species based on one representative? That they can just exterminate anyone whose way of life doesn’t match up with theirs?

Our heroes didn’t save the human race. The human race turned into something else entirely, and its last survivors get to watch each other die knowing that that’s it, that’s the end of them all.

No societies. No cultures. No new art, or music, or fashion.

No children, no future. No hope. 

It’s very disappointing and scary to me. I don’t like the messaging and I don’t like the implications for the surviving characters.

There was a brief, brief moment when I saw a glimpse of an ending that I could’ve liked. When Raven says, “just give us another chance,” I was really expecting the aliens to swoop off and leave humanity to their own devices. No crystallization. No transcendence. All of the remaining groups have to come together and figure out how to thrive together. Discuss and establish a system of government that doesn’t rely on state-sanctioned child battle royales, or body snatching, or extreme restrictions on how many children people can have. Obviously, in this ending, nobody gets shot and nobody almost dies. Madi retains control of her body, somehow. Fill in the details yourself, but my ending would include just about everybody surviving.

Build a society that will grow. Let our characters take the lessons they’ve learned and apply them in a meaningful way, a lasting way. Show us that humanity will survive and will rebuild, on the planet of our birth. Let them rest, but let that rest and that peace mean something more than, “Good job! You made it to episode 100!”

Not to mention, the fact that Earth did eventually heal made everything that Monty and Harper did at the end of s5 completely pointless. Monty thought he was delivering the human race to a new hope. He was just steering them towards assimilation to the borg. I don’t think that’s the “do better” that he wanted, you know?

I could go on, but this is long enough. I’ll just end by saying this - if someone had told me, back in 2015 when I started watching, that this is how the show would end, I never would’ve started it. Not for Lexa, not for Octavia, not for anything. 

The ending made everything they went through so painfully pointless.

[destiny-smasher]

“But I can't walk on the path of the right, because I'm wrong.”

So, The Last of Us Part 2 is out. It’s about 25 hours long. I’ve played it. I loved it, but it’s got its flaws. I think the hype buildup was overblown, and I think the zealous hate from the leaks was also overblown. This is a beautifully produced game that is trying to do much more than the typical AAA game tries to do, and in so trying, it’s messier, muddier, and more complicated than its predecessor. I love it for that, despite my issues with how the game ultimately resolves things.

I think Naughty Dog was either intentionally misleading audiences (which, given the marketing, is possible) or perhaps Neil himself has a different concept of the game he directed than what was actually delivered. Despite how it was advertised, The Last of Us Part 2 is not inherently about ‘hate’ or ‘revenge.’ It’s not just a revenge story.

It's a story about empathy, about how human beings and their interactions have layers, and how we are better when we extend blind empathy to others instead of blind hatred. I gotta talk about this. SPOILERS FOR THE ENTIRE GAME to follow.

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Seriously, final warning for SPOILERS.

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This game is simply too big, too complex, and has too much going on for me to write a single piece going over everything there is to talk about, but there are some things I need to say that inherently rely on discussing the entire game in a spoiler-filled way.

Let’s start with the most noticeable thing that has hit me over this game’s reception: people like Joel way more than I would’ve expected. SO much of this game’s negative reception seems to be over Joel’s character and the circumstances around his death. I was not at all surprised that he died - I was a bit surprised at when and how he died, in the moment, but even by the end of the next scene, it had washed over me how much sense it made. He died in the same way everyone else dies in this series. He had it coming in the same way anyone else in this world has it coming. He was never a hero. If you truly look at Joel as a ‘hero’ figure but don’t extend that same logic to Ellie and Abby, you do not make sense to me.

I’ve seen a LOT of hate getting thrown at Abby, and frankly, I do not understand it, and if you hate her but do NOT hate Joel or Ellie similarly, then I inherently don’t respect your opinion? You’re being blatantly biased and unreasonable in exactly the way this game is arguing you should not be. Straight up. Get your transphobic jokes the fuck outta here. Get your homophobic takes on Ellie and Dina the fuck outta here. Get your xenophobic complaints about the MUCH more diverse cast of characters in this sequel the fuck outta here. The ONE case where I could see a reasonable thing to be conflicted about is Lev’s character, because they are a transgender kid who gets deadnamed by some NPCs. As a transgender person, I personally found this to just...make sense and feel organic to the world, and none of the actual characters in the narrative with names or roles in the story ever deadname Lev. Lev is fucking precious and I love him, and I think his inclusion adds inherently more to this game than otherwise, despite the understandable conflict some might feel about his backstory. To ME, the fact that all of what Lev goes through and how Yara and Abby do what they can to look for him, that says to me, “protect trans rights” and I am glad it is there. Trans people have to deal with that shit sometimes, I think it’s fine having it be PART of a wider narrative. It doesn’t define Lev’s story, it doesn’t dictate the plot of the game, it’s a spark that sets some events off and I think that adds more than it could potentially take away, as does the overall representation in the game.

Getting back to this element of bias, though, I get that you “went on a journey” with Joel and Ellie in the first game. I get that. But you spend about as much time with Abby in this game as you did with Joel in the first game. And I see a lot of people are SOMEHOW totally fine and chill and cool with Joel going on a murder rampage in the first game, specifically killing at least one man who was specifically trying to save humanity - they cite that Joel is a morally gray person who has done bad things and is trying to become a better person. Sure, cool, OK. And Ellie, sure, ya’ll will think her going on a bloodthristy revenge quest is cool, fine, A-OK, because Joel was murdered. But somehow they are physically incapable of extending that same empathy to Abby, even after the game bends OVER BACKWARD in every reasonable way it could. Why is this? One person tweeted at me the simplistic, reductive idea, 

“ I know the sensible thing that naughty dog was aiming at was that we'd feel sorry for abby and eventually grow to like her, but for me I just don't. I loved Joel and I love Ellie. They didn't kill anyone who I loved as a character. Abby did. “

At least they’re being honest with themselves in that they literally missed the entire point of the game. You having personal bias you cannot remove yourself from does not make for “A DEEPLY FLAWED STORY” or whatever the fuck people have been tossing around.

I personally don’t buy any of that bullshit until we get into the final hours of the game during the epilogue, but we’ll get to that.

Everything in the first 20-ish hours of this game felt organic and believable and completely in line with the first game to me, and the fact that ALL OF IT happens as a direct after-effect of Joel’s selfish act at the end of the first game really contextualizes how/why it was called ‘Part 2.’ So honestly, all of this nonsense about this sequel being ‘badly written’ is just...bonkers. I will agree it’s not some master class in writing - neither was the original game. But both games are very similar in writing style, tone, and the world presented is consistent, while character motivations are realistically complicated. Naughty Dog has never been great at plot, but the real quality of their work comes through in how much effort they go to in order to present realistic feeling worlds and characters, and from the environments to the actors to the extra animations on top, I think the details and the context they create are where they shine.

To better understand where I am coming from with this game, let me lay this on you.

During the scene in that basement, when Abby shot Joel in the leg, and Ellie shows up...I realized what was about to happen. Ironically, it was exactly what I had originally predicted was the thing going on WAY back when the game’s reveal trailer was dropped -- that Joel was dead, and was motivating Ellie’s revenge quest. If you’ve read what I have written of Arcadian Rhythms, you will have some idea of my feelings on Joel and Ellie’s relationship -- in short, I think it is complicated, and just as damaging as it is good. That’s real life. That’s how reality is for many relationships, especially ones between parents and their kids, especially in my experience. When I realized Joel was about to be murdered, my feelings and thoughts were not jumping to ‘oh fuck what an asshole I wanna kill these people’ or ‘oh no not Joel’ but rather, my immediate gut thoughts were ‘yupppp Joel kinda deserves this, he literally did this to who knows how many other people, but why are THESE people, specifically, out to get him?’ 

When Ellie later cites to Dina that there’s ‘no point’ in speculating as to why these people murdered Joel, because it could be for one of many possible reasons, I found that to be interesting -- Ellie herself acknowledging that Joel had fucked over many other people, while still pursuing revenge herself.

I do think the theme of ‘the cycle of violence’ is very core to this game and arguably is its strongest central theme, specifically because violence in wholly integrated into its gameplay. But narratively and structurally, empathy is, I would argue, even more paramount. This game spends about 12 hours of its runtime (so about half of the entire game) actively trying to encourage you to understand, relate with, and empathize with Abby. The developers COULD have had you swapping back and forth between both characters, which might have resulted in better pacing, but I think it would’v taken away from what they were going for. It’s that long, slow burn that makes Abby’s side of the story work, in much the same way the long, slow burn of the first game does what it does, and the way the long, slow burn of Ellie’s revenge quest helps us see just how far gone she is.

But “arghh I hated Ellie she kept making bad decisions that made no sense” some of you say, “they did her DIRTY” some of you say.

No.

Joel did her dirty.

The Fireflies did her dirty.

And it’s this exact concept -- that our actions and choices have consequences and ripple outward beyond what we can initially imagine - that is at the heart of why I think I love this game so much. Most video games depict a pool of water that is either a constant whirlpool, a raging clash of waves, or stone dropped in the middle and the ripples spreading out. The Last of Us Part 2 is more like a series of ripples all happening simultaneously, and not all of them are as apparent or even important, but it’s just...a bunch of ripples all happening all over the place.

And it breaks my heart, during 2020, a year when human rights, systemic racism, a worldwide pandemic, late capitalism, and entire countries submerged in protests because their government is fucking them over...has people shutting off or refusing to turn on their empathy to anyone outside of their bubble. In 2020, when the world needs empathy more than any other year I’ve experienced in my life thus far, a game like this goes SO FAR above and beyond what most games try to do, in a very risky and controversial way, to actively invite its players to fucking STOP AND CONSIDER for a damn moment that there’s more to the world than JUST YOU and what you care about. That your actions have consequences beyond your singular perspective.

Ellie is fueled by rage for a number of reasons, and we don’t even understand all of them until literally the final moments of the game, which I found to be appropriate as it ends on a note of reminding us that there is ALWAYS something we don’t know, something we don’t understand, motivating someone else’s decisions.

Ellie was robbed of agency, of purpose, by both Joel and the Fireflies. Joel robbed both Ellie and the Fireflies of their purpose. And the Fireflies robbed Ellie and Joel of theirs. In return, Ellie is left without purpose, and all she’s really left with is a broken man who desperately wants to be a dad again, to the point that he will murder and lie to hold on to that. Don’t get me wrong - I don’t necessarily hold it against Joel that he murdered people to save Ellie. I will always defend the idea that it was a fucking selfish decision that would realistically lead to consequences. But in the same way Marlene points out to Abby’s dad, ‘What if it was your kid?’ ie ‘What if it was someone you loved?’ I get that, that’s the beauty of how the first game ended. It presents a zero sum game where there is no ‘correct’ choice that everyone can agree on, but in the back of our heads -- and Part 2 actually states this as a point of fact -- we all know Ellie would have CHOSEN to sacrifice herself, had she been asked.

So it was deliciously realistic to me to see Ellie grappling with the frustration, distrust, and anger of Joel having not only robbed that purpose from her, but having lied to her about it. And in the end, it was also wonderfully realistic that part of why she hated Abby so much was that Abby inadvertently robbed her of her chance to try and rebuild and repair that broken relationship.

But here’s the thing, though - the thing I see fucking NO ONE talking about, and I can’t decide if it’s because no one is picking up on it or what.

Both Ellie and Abby are haunted and driven by broken men making selfish choices. Their selfishness keeps both characters kind of locked in to desperately grasping at violent acts to justify a purpose.

Some will play the flashbacks with Joel and will feel warmth and nostalgia and admiration. Some will play the flashbacks with Owen and feel disinterest or disgust because ‘why should I care about these people?’

For me, I couldn’t help bu draw parallels to how both Owen and Joel were men trying to be good, you know, not being specifically evil people, but men who were a bad influence on the women around them, who were great and good and charming and all that until things didn’t go the way they wanted, pushing and prodding with passive digs and pressure to reaffirm their own hopes that despite their mistakes, they’re ‘good men.’ Owen is admittedly much less well developed in this regard, partly because his arc just isn’t as deep or interesting, partly because he didn’t exist in the previous game. But I still could not quite shake it. I grew up with men like Joel and Owen as my father figures, so there’s personal bias there.

I literally had an actual nightmare that woke me up in the middle of the night partway through playing through this game because Joel was in it and I said or did a thing he did not like, and his reaction spooked me awake, in part because I LIVED that growing up. (not murder, but violence, passive aggressive manipulation) I absolutely adore the depth given to Joel’s character, that he has LAYERS to him, and I loved seeing Tommy similarly expanded upon. (him passively prodding at Ellie to try and make good with Joel felt a little manipulative, given that he KNOWS what Joel did; and even his wife’s prodding at Ellie at the game’s outside to ‘make good’ with some old jerk who seems all expectant about being rewarded for basic apologizing, ech)

Last of Us is a horror game, Part 2 even moreso, but it was the feeling of men like Joel who do bad things and then try to justify them after the fact that actually creeped me out more -- all the more creepy because I KNOW Ellie and Abby will give up on better choices to try and ‘do right by them’. I was relieved when Abby began to break free from these old, poor choices, even shortly after making more fo them during her half of the story. This brings me to another fascinating aspect of this game: how Abby’s story is a combination of both Joel’s and Ellie’s.

Dunkey (of all people!) recently praised this game and compared Ellie’s and Abby’s narratives to TLOU1 and Uncharted 4, and I agree with him in a lot of regards, there, but I think what the team was more going for was for Abby’s story to feel like a combination of Joel’s and Ellie’s while simultaneously being directly impacted by Joel and Ellie’s story.

Abby grew up in a military community, even though she expressed an interest in science -- just like Ellie. The death of her father drives her on a quest for revenge -- just like Ellie. She does some horrible shit to people all in the service of trying to protect a kid as some desperate attempt to feel better about all of the bad shit she’s done -- just like Joel. She starts to let herself be empathetic to other people and tries to become a better person because of the kid she takes under her wing -- just like Joel.

In a way, you could argue Part 2′s overall story is kind of repetitious. Ellie’s quest for revenge is a bit too narrow-minded and blind in her rage, and Abby’s story kind of recycles many components we have already seen up until that point. I think what’s there still generally accomplishes what it set out to do: get us to question and try to understand why people do what they do, and consider our own place in that cycle, in those ripples.

I think many aspects of this game that look circumstantial on the surface are not accidents.

I think the recurring imagery of water is an allegory for how we can let rage, anger, and hate drown us. The game’s title starts with a boat drifting in water, and the title changes after the ending to a boat that is beached. The Seattle arc shows a gradually increasing focus on water flooding the environments, culminating in a big rainstorm with crazy waves. The final fight sequence (which tbh I hated but we’ll get to that) takes place literally IN water, involves Ellie trying to drown Abby, and ends with the two of them going separate ways in their boats.

I think it’s no accident that Abby and Ellie’s desire for vengeance is ultimately caused by the same specific moment, and I think it’s interesting that many people seem to skip RIGHT OVER the idea that Ellie feels such a deep sense of rage at Abby killing Joel only because Joel made the decision that caused Abby to kill him in the first place -- and the good and bad that came from that. It’s just a brilliantly complicated web, I think, and that further highlights that none of these characters are inherently good or evil, which is pretty much the entire point of this world in the first place.

I think it’s interesting that both Ellie and Abby grumble insults all of the time over the people they’re killing, and both try to justify their violence with thoughts like “well we’re better then that, we don’t do THOSE kinds of things,” which is, ya know, literally the kinds of mental hoops actual real human beings jump through to justify doing bad shit to each other.

I liked the idea of the trading cards until fairly early on when I found the ‘Dr. Uckmann’ card, which...made me roll my eyes a little at first, until I read the description, which then made me feel more actively uncomfortable than maybe anything else in the entire game, to be quite honest. Partly because it rang of entitled self-importance, but partly because of the reports of Naughty Dog crunch culture.

And on that note, let’s talk about how this game arguably crunched its employees way more than it needed to while simultaneously making its story more bloated than it needed to be.

Don’t get me wrong, I love indulging in more STUFF than it required. I can totally see the appeal of writing extra stuff to a story like because you can, because it’s interesting, because it’s fun to MAKE shit. But when you are a AAA game development studio who is potentially crunching your employees into burnout, maybe a fairly pointless epilogue on top of a game that is already arguably a bit too long in the tooth is...maybe not the best way to go?

On the upside, I enjoyed playing the Santa Barbara location, I loved getting some more Abby/Lev time, I liked seeing Ellie a bit older, I LOVED the scene at the farm with her, Dina, and JJ. I loved the gameplay challenge that was the Rattler’s base. I loved that this game had noticeably larger environments to explore.

But tbh a LOT of content could’ve been cut from this game to make a smoother, better paced experience while simultaneously putting less strain on the developers. I do think the extended flashback sequences focused on non-violent gameplay is important enough to justify itself, but I think a lot of the more violent or unnecessary parts of the game (like the entire sequence on the Seraphite’s island and the Santa Barbara sequence) all feel like...EXTRA? Which on the one hand is great because hot DAMN more beautifully rendered locations, content, etc. but on the other hand I’m not sure it adds as much to justify the real life pain and misery I’m sure some developers went through to create it all, and in a way, it doesn’t quite justify its own existence if we’re being critical.

I get what they were going for with the Seraphites and the WLF but neither group is developed enough to really accomplish the goals of empathy. I think focusing on specific members OF those groups is better, because that is ultimately how real life people break down their walls of bias, -isms, etc. -- they just interact with and befriend people from these groups and realize organically “oh hey we’re all...people, huh.” The game’s attempts at naming NPCs and dogs don’t do much when the game actively rewards you for killing them (speaking of which, I played on Normal and there were way too many items imo, we’ll see how that is on higher difficulties). We could get into the role of violence and gameplay but that’s a WHOLE other can of worms.

But the Rattlers in the final act are even worse. After this entire game of being actively encouraged to empathize with other people from other groups and let yourself consider they aren’t evil, the game just...shoves an objectively worse group of people at you, asks you to murder them, and then...discards the whole thing without a second thought. I found this to be fun from a gameplay perspective (sorry Neil, playing your game actually IS FUN when you put so much work into making the violence fun to engage with) but I found it weird and frustrating from a storytelling perspective, as if the whole thing was an undercooked, unfinished final act that they cobbled together because they just...wanted enemies with helmets and an environment depicting southern California. Hell, tbh I don’t even get why Ellie had to be there other than the developers didn’t think players would be OK just...letting Ellie live a life in peace on a farm or that players would be OK NOT playing as Ellie at the end and letting her beat the shit out of Abby.

I actually LOVED the farm sequence, it felt so...weird for a while. Like you’re just waiting for the hat to drop. And when it does...it’s just PTSD. And that felt right. That felt good, that even though Ellie was spared, after all the shit she did, because she let go and spared Abby in return, she got to live this peaceful life...except life’s not that simple and old scars can still hurt.

I loved when Tommy showed up and we got to see that darker side to him we KNOW has been there this entire time, but Ellie maybe hasn’t been forced to see it. All the way up until this point, I felt I could understand where the characters were coming from and what motivated their decisions.

And then Ellie decided “no, actually, maybe if I throw all of this away I can maybe get rid of this PTSD I got from throwing everything away before.” And then it got worse when after she breaks into this fucking slave house to free people, after she saves Abby and Lev from dying on posts, she STILL wants to fight. ANd Abby’s where I’m at -- that ‘fucking REALLY?’ feeling. I utterly disliked the fight scene in the water. It was the one time in the whole game that actually felt like misery porn to me. I was honestly going into it expecting that maybe Ellie’s stab wound from the trap would cause her to be too weak to fight, and she’d literally drown from bleeding out because of her own unrelenting pursuit of revenge. But nah, we’re put through a pointless, brutal fist/knife fight that...doesn’t really have purpose imo. WHatever you wanted to accomplish here, you could’ve done back in the theater in Seattle. (on that note I LOVED the Ellie boss fight, what a fun gameplay thing and also just tense all around since you really couldn’t tell what was going to happen, but I LOVE that Lev stopped Abby from killing Dina, even though she had every reason to)

I can imagine different versions of the Santa Barbara sequence that offer a more edifying conclusion while still working in the environmental and gameplay components they seemed insistent on working in. It’s the one major portion of the game that, now that I’ve had time to process, I feel the most conflicted about.

Neither Ellie nor Abby “deserve” a happy ending in much the same way Joel didn’t “deserve” a happy ending. This game has no true protagonists or villains (anyone who is presented as a ‘villain’ is minor, and we don’t find out much about them anyway). I think Joel was lucky to get the time he got to live in community once again, to rediscover his humanity (look at all of those flowers they left at his house, this man who fucked over humanity and murdered countless people had a chance to live a few years of peaceful life again), I think Ellie was lucky she got time to even live what she did on that farm with Dina and JJ, and was lucky to still be alive at the end of the story. I think Abby was lucky to have been able to break free from a life of militaristic bullshit and rediscover some of her own lost humanity.

I think a lot of people admire Joel as a hero when it’s clear he was never one.

I think a lot of people admire Ellie and try to idolize her as the smarmy kid she could never permanently exist as.

I think a lot of people hate on Abby for EXISTING (and being a woman -gasp- WITH MUSCLES) and I’m pretty pleased with Laura Bailey getting to play this role (and Ashly Burch getting a supporting role in this game, too, for that matter).

I think The Last of Us is not ‘about Ellie and Joel.’ I think The Last of Us is about humanity, and exploring it through different angle. Sometimes needlessly gritty and dark ones, but Part 2 gave us even more light-hearted, pelasant moments than I could have expected. I think people who look so reductively at this game -- now officially a ‘series’ -- as ‘Joel and Ellie 100x forever’ and literally anything outside of that being bad and a waste of time fundamentally missed the entire purpose of this game, ironically ignoring what it is trying to passionately to convey. I think Naughty Dog’s marketing of the game actively misled people in ways that are rare for the industry, and I do think that is a bit shady - but on the other hand, being misled actively improved my experience with the end product (which is arguably why they did it). I think the way Sony has latched on Joel and Ellie as ‘Playstation Icons’ and encouraged people to buy up TLOU merch depite there not being much TO turn into merchandise says something.

Also? Frankly?

I am SO FUCKING TIRED of “angry sad dad” games.

Like. I loved TLOU 1, I loved the new God of War, etc. etc.

But God of War took basically NO RISKS and had NOTHING TO SAY that countless other pieces of media have said to death. That’s fine, there’s nothing wrong with that, I really enjoyed it and look forward to the next. But this game actually has challenging thoughts, complicated things, it is trying to get players to consider, and most everyone I see shitting on the game either hasn’t played it or doesn’t seem interested in games that exist for something beyond making them feel good about themselves? I dunno.

I think at the end of the day, TLOU as an entire series, and specifically the sequel, isn’t about Joel and Ellie, that was just the more focused lens the original game had. For its messier, muddier experience, Part 2 strives for nothing more than many pieces of media have but for something that is still rare in the space of AAA video games.

It takes some risks, it makes some missteps in getting where it goes, for sure, and it’s by no means some holy gift to mankid, but it passionately goes to GREAT lengths to explore and express a fairly simple idea: 

empathy is a choice, understanding others is a choice,

and we are all inherently better off when we choose to blindly accept understanding than when we blindly choose hate and violence.

Just because we can’t walk ‘the path of the right,’ and just because ‘we’re wrong’ doesn’t mean we should let the phantoms in our lives continue to keep a hold on our future. Just because someone does some good things doesn’t erase the consequences and ripples of the bad they have done, and just because we do bad things doesn’t mean we can’t do good.

The way to end the cycle of violence is empathy.

It’s simplistic in concept, but if you look around at not just the reception to this game even before people could play it, but just the STATE OF THE WORLD IN 2020, you will see that maybe we still need such basic, simplistic concepts to continue to be explored in big budget media.

[creacherkeeper]

Hays Code 

community fic  annie & abed friendship. pre relationship trobed  hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending  cw for discussion of historical homophobia and non graphic discussion of past suicidal thoughts  3600 words 

on ao3 

To be frank, Annie wasn’t in the mood. Not in the mood for what, exactly? Anything. Everything. Talking or not talking, eating, sleeping, breathing—just living, really, was going to push her over the edge. It was one of those days where all she craved was a good scream and maybe to fling her arms around a bit, but that wasn’t appropriate and honestly, you’re an adult now and is this how you get your way? So, she’d politely excused herself and walked just a tad extra fast all the way home. She just wanted to be alone.

Honestly, who gave an 89% on an essay? The only feedback she’d gotten was: “These words taste like radish in my mouth. I hate radishes.”

She slammed the door more forcefully than she should. The frame wasn’t very good, and Troy always said one day she was going to knock it down. There was a teacher at Greendale that knocked a door down that same way—slammed it a little too hard day in and day out, until not only the door, but the whole frame keeled right over. That teacher was doing it on purpose, though. Took him six years to prove some inexplicable point.

Maybe Annie should do that. Knock out a whole frame just so people stop pushing her.

Her backpack was flung to the ground, and, for just a moment, she let out a strangled wail. It wasn’t as satisfying as she wanted it to be, but there were neighbors and their creepy landlord, and, no matter how riled up she was, she didn’t want to cause any trouble.

She made her way to the kitchen, because if she couldn’t be happy, then at the very least she could have chocolate. It didn’t make things better, it didn’t really help, but … it felt like a little rebellion, every time. Troy and Abed had done a good job loosening her up (within reason), but it still felt like she’d won a little victory when she skipped dinner and just went straight for dessert.

Her hand was on the cabinet when she heard the shuffle from the other room. Her heart thudded. Her grip tightened. Troy and Abed were supposed to be in class (she was supposed to be in class), and if either of them were home, so to would be the sounds of dialogue, or music, or a video game track. The apartment was never just … quiet. Not unless she was by herself.

Her hand crept back to her side. It flexed like it might grip the handle of a gun, but she reminded herself she’d given it up when she moved into the apartment. She understood that it was different for her to have one than Troy and Abed, she really understood that, but her nerves got the better of her sometimes. Sometimes she missed it.

She slid the knife off the counter as quietly as she could.

She crept into the living room.

“Are you going to knife me?” Abed asked, face neutral.

Her heart and legs floundered. “Jesus Christ, Abed! You’re supposed to be in class.”

She could practically see Shirley’s disapproval of her choice of swear, but, okay, look, it wasn’t even really, technically, his name—if you went by the Hebrew, the more accurate—okay, no. No. She was getting off track.

Abed’s eyes followed the knife as she gestured towards him and then the blank TV.

“Why are you just sitting here in the dark? You scared me half to death!”

“Sorry.”

“Are you doing a scene where the character is thinking of something, and they’re silent, but going on this whole internal journey, and then, at the end, they jump up and run off camera to go do something dramatic?”

“No,” he admitted.

“Oh.” The knife dropped a bit. “Then what are you doing?”

“Thinking.”

They stared for a moment, Annie at his face, and Abed at the knife. It finally fell limp to her side as her eyebrows scrunched and mouth pursed in confusion.

“Oh. Okay.”

Her fingers twisted and curled around the handle. Abed went back to staring towards the TV—unusually and ominously blank.

She cleared her throat and quickly dropped the knife back in the kitchen, then tiptoed her way towards him.

“Is there … something bothering you?”

His head tilted back and forth almost imperceptibly as he decided how to respond.

“Just thinking about tropes.”

Her shoulders relaxed. That sounded more like him. She was almost worried that Abed had been abducted and replaced by a doppelganger, or that he’d gone into the dreamatorium alone and had gotten too stuck in a character. But he was just thinking about tropes. That was fine, that was Abed. The familiarity gave her enough confidence to approach fully and perch on the coffee table in front of his chair.

“I’m sorry I yelled,” she said, doing that little half-smile nose scrunch that always worked on Jeff. She wasn’t sure Abed even saw it, the way he was looking over her shoulder instead of at her, but the apology felt good to say. “Is there a trope you’re thinking about in particular?”

He hummed and gave a short nod. She waited for him to continue, but he just stared in that way that he did and rubbed his thumb over his fingers in a quick, anxious pattern.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, realizing her mistake. She’d asked a yes or no question and he’d answered it. “What trope are you thinking of?”

“Hays Code,” he shot off, a drum beat in the air.

The name sounded familiar. But sometimes the things Abed told her about were like a pipette drip in the tumultuous ocean of her brain. It didn’t mean she wasn’t listening, but it was drown out by the raging storm, the cutting rocks, the moon and the tides and the break on the shore—oh and sharks, maybe-

She shook her head.

“Would you mind explaining what that is?”

His finger rose in a point like he was going to begin, but it was an awkward, faltering second before the words actually began to spill from his mouth.

“Hays Code, or the Motion Picture Production Code, adopted and enforced in 1934. A set of morality-based guidelines that stifled American filmmaking with self-censorship rules until 1968. Among the guidelines were bans on sacrilegious profanity—like your little outburst just there—violence, drugs, sexual content, among other things.” His eyes flickered, only briefly. “Though not explicitly stated, the Code affected media portrayal of homosexuality, to the effect that it could not be portrayed without sufficiently condemning it as immoral, or …” His fingers continued their nervous dance. “-ending their story in tragedy. While the Hays Code was abandoned in 1968, its effects were deep-seated. That particular unspoken rule became what we now would refer to as ‘bury your gays’. The Code was abandoned, but the trope was too well established to die with it.”

She blinked. Her mouth felt dry. Her fingers wrung much like his from where they were held in her lap.

“Abed?” she asked.

“Yeah?”

“Can I sit with you?”

She’d never really asked before. Usually it was an unspoken assumption—that was Abed’s seat, and the other was Troy’s. She didn’t have one, so she sat with Abed. She’d never minded. It was nice. There weren’t many people she felt comfortable being that close to, but Abed was just the right amount of warm, and holding his hand felt like a star through cloud-cover, like a lighthouse on a familiar shore, a point of contact that kept her grounded and real and there.

But, she asks. This time, she had to ask.

Abed’s eyes glanced at her shoulder, at her hands, at her chin, back down.

“Yeah.”

He scooted over as she moved towards him, and instead of settling on the arm of the chair, she let her weight fall next to his, both of them crammed sharply together in the too small seat. He was trembling, just a little. She wondered if he’d eaten.

His hand slipped into hers.

Though her breath stuttered, she hoped it wasn’t enough that he’d notice.

“Abed, are you gay?”

For all that he could ramble, shroud his meaning in metaphor and obscure reference, Abed didn’t like when other people beat around the bush. He appreciated directness and honesty. So, though it felt to Annie like some dam had been broken, like all her soft guts would come spilling out at any moment, she asked the question as simply as she could.

The silence rang too long, though it couldn’t have been more than a moment.

“Maybe,” he said. His fingers wriggled, testing against hers. “I have liked the girls I’ve dated. Though it’s hard to tell if it’s more aesthetic appreciation, or- or if I just enjoy their company. Most of the ways people describe feelings are alien to me, so sometimes it’s hard for me to tell.”

“And with guys it feels the same?”

He shook his head, just a little. “Different. It … It feels different.”

Annie took as even a breath as she could, trying not to let her palm sweat against his own, though she didn’t, in the end, have much power over that.

“And thinking about the Hays Code has you worried that … that what you’re feeling is bad?”

He shook his head again, but it was a few seconds before he spoke.

“I’ve been trying to figure out my arc for a while,” he admitted. “Creating … contrived little schemes to nudge it this way or that. I’m not sure I can fight this one though. I don’t know if I can change how it ends.” He swallowed, throat bobbing. “The trope is well established for a reason.”

Annie’s hand squeezed his, not to comfort him, but out of reflex. She tried to relax it, blinking quickly against a sting in her eyes.

“And … the ending you’re worried you’re going to get …”

She let the sentence hang, because, frankly, she couldn’t find it within herself to finish. There was a knot in her throat she couldn’t swallow past.

Still, he took her meaning.

“Have you seen Dead Poet’s Society?” he asked.

Her stomach twisted. She nodded. She was glad he wasn’t looking at her, just staring towards the TV, because she wasn’t sure what her face would betray.

“Yeah.” His head jolted a bit. It was only slightly different from his thinking head tilt, but she recognized it as a sign of his nerves nonetheless. “It wasn’t a one to one metaphor, but it was about as blatant as it could be at the time. It still hit home for a lot of people.”

She cleared her throat, but it didn’t get rid of the choking feeling. “Have you thought about this before?” She wasn’t sure if he would gather her meaning—not the Code or the movie but … she couldn’t bring herself to even think it.

His lips pulled. He looked down at their conjoined hands, at Annie’s white knuckled grip.

“Not recently.”

Her grip relaxed, if only a little.

“But in the past?”

His shoulder shrugged against hers, and he let his thumb swipe back and forth over her knuckles.

“Kids are mean. Life is hard. You know how it is.”

She coughed out a little breath, nodding just a touch too quickly. “I get it. I do.”

Suddenly his brows furrowed, and his head swiveled towards her.

“Sorry,” he said, eyes darting back and forth over her expression. “I didn’t mean to make you worry about your own ending.”

Her eyebrows drew to mirror his.

“My …? Why would I be worried about my- Abed, you don’t think I’m gay, do you?”

His lips twitched at the side. He blinked.

“Sorry,” he said again. “Sometimes I misread people. I’m just very good at patterns, is all, and I’m a lot more observant than people think—”

“I’m not- You shouldn’t—” Her heart thudded like the crack of hooves at a horse race, and her eyes burned, and her stomach twisted. He couldn’t just- She never said- But he was watching her with that open, knowing stare, and she thought, if she couldn’t tell him right there, right then—if she couldn’t tell Abed, who had just put his heart on the table before her—when would she ever say it?

Her next words escaped as a croak.

“You can’t tell anyone.”

The understanding was quick to light his eyes. He nodded.

“I’m not ready to- I could never really—” She took a wet, shaky breath. “How long have you known?”

He looked as if he was weighing his answer. He was still staring at her with that intensity only Abed had.

“A while,” he told her eventually.

“Have you told any—”

“No.”

“Not even—”

“No.”

She let out a breath. “Okay.” She swallowed, squeezing his hand. “Okay.”

He settled back down next to her, head tilting softly downward. “I didn’t mean to make you worry.”

“I’m not worried about tropes, Abed.”

“But you’ve thought about it, too.”

Her eyes darted away, around their living room. “About the Hays Code? No, I—”

“Annie.”

She froze. When Abed used her name like that, short, soft, she knew he was serious.

Her breath rattled through her nose. She pulled on his hand until their conjoined fingers were resting against her, arms wrapped around her in something like a hug.

“Kids are mean,” she repeated hoarsely. “Life is hard. You know how it is.”

He shifted a little closer. He nodded.

“I always felt like … like I had to be perfect. Like any little mistake, any slip up, any error, and … everything would come crashing down. I’d lose it all. Even as a kid, I knew my parents’ love was conditional.” Her swallow was harsh, tears dripping down her cheeks. “And so I took every advantage I could, because I thought … I thought I was just playing the game. I did everything I could to be at the top, because I thought being number one would keep me from losing.” She let out a laugh, breathy and bitter. “It didn’t. I just fell harder.”

She could feel Abed looking at her, but her gaze was fixed firmly on her lap. If it were someone else, Troy or Jeff, maybe Britta even, she’d want them to comfort her, to hold her, to tell her it was okay and that her fall from grace hadn’t been as bad as she thought. Abed didn’t, and she liked that. She liked that he just listened.

“I lost everything. My school, my scholarship, my friends … my family. I’d been thrown in the proverbial gutter and I just thought …” Her face pinched as she tried to get out the words. She shrugged. “Well, I’ll never be able to climb out of this one. There’s no point in …” She sighed. “If I hadn’t had been in the clinic, I don’t know. They watch for that sort of thing and, I don’t know, even in there I was so worried about being good. The day I got out, I enrolled in Greendale. It wasn’t what I thought my future was going to be, but it saved my life.”

There were a few beats of silence as her sentence hung, as her lips wavered and her eyes wept.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to make this about me.”

“It’s okay,” Abed responded, quiet, and she knew that he meant it.

“I’m sorry you’ve ever felt the same way.”

“Me too,” he said. “But—for you, though.”

A tiny laugh escaped her, and she shifted to rest her cheek on his shoulder. She lifted her free arm to wipe the wetness from her face.

“Abed … I know we’ve said this before, but … tropes are good for movies. Movies have arcs, narrative, structure. But real life isn’t that way. Our stories aren’t bound by convention and rules. Just because it happens in the movies, doesn’t mean that’s how your life is going to go.”

“Yeah.” His fingers moved in pattern between her own. “Movies make sense, though. Life doesn’t. Life is chaotic and messy and confusing. You never know what someone’s going to say next. You can guess, and I have, but you can’t know. You can’t keep the ending in mind when you’re watching. A good ending is logical—it’s the only correct solution to a puzzle you didn’t think to solve. There’s foreshadowing. There’s staging. Characters have motivations, and they’re not always clear—but if you don’t understand you can watch it again, and again, and again, until you get it. If you don’t like it, you can’t change what happens, but there’s a comfort in it always staying the same. You can laugh, you can cry, but barring that, you can just … be there. You can be affected as much as you’ll be affected and the movie doesn’t care one way or another. It just exists, and you do too. And in a way, that’s its own kind of peace.”  

Annie let that explanation wash over her, a display of emotion in its own logical kind of way. It made sense in the way that Abed frequently made sense if people just cared to listen. And for the moment, she didn’t feel like she had to respond, just sit there with him, listening in the way that he had listened to her, just existing with him like he obviously craved.

After a minute had passed of feeling his hand squeeze and loosen, watching his toes wiggle in his socks, she asked, “Abed, did something prompt all this? You seemed fine yesterday.”

He swallowed, fingers and toes stilling. Finally, she pulled away from him.

His eyes darted towards the open door of the dreamatorium, and hers followed.

Oh.

On the floor were strewn chocolates, different kinds in little wrappers, looking like they’d been thrown and fallen in their places. Only the corner of it was visible, but through the doorway she could see the rounded corner of a pink carton.

Valentine’s was coming up.

“You got those for someone,” she said, not really a question.

He hummed.

“You got those for Troy.”

This, too, was a statement. It was one she felt as sure of as anything else.

He hummed again.

“Were you worried he’d say no?” she asked, turning back to face him.

His eyes lingered on the abandoned chocolates.

“No,” she corrected herself. “That wasn’t it.”

“I’m not sure what my arc is,” he said slowly. “I can contrive it all I want—I don’t know what my ending’s gonna be. I can ponder, I can analyze, but … I don’t really know. And that scares me. It scares me as much as it scares anyone, I think. But Troy is … he’s not set in stone. I have my guesses. I know what I hope. But what if by asking him I seal his fate? What if I take him off the path of the prom king and star athlete and I- I railroad him into decades of unspoken rules and tragedy? I- I can’t do that to him, I- I can’t—”

“Abed.”

His mouth clamped shut.

She pulled his hand a little closer.

“Those are worries that I think, while maybe phrased in a different way, anyone would have. Life is hard and full of uncertainties, and … you and I both know it’s not any easier for us. It’s exponentially harder, in ways that most people wouldn’t even think of. Not because of movie rules or media tropes, but because … well … it’s just that much more uncertain. But, in spite of all that, I have one question for you.”

It was a very movie drama thing to say, and she knew it would draw his interest. His eyes slid to her, not meeting her own, but hovering around her nose, her mouth, her chin.

“Despite the uncertain ending,” she said, “despite the tropes, would it not be worth it if, along the way, he was happy?”

His head darted, just a little.

“Because, for whatever my opinion’s worth, I think if you asked him, he would be really, really happy.”

His eyes fell, down to the collar of her shirt, and she knew from his stillness that he was thinking.

Finally, he spoke.

“Your opinion’s worth a lot. More than most, at least. For the record.”

She huffed a laugh and leaned against him, letting her cheek rest against his shoulder once again.

“I know I’m a complete and utter hypocrite,” she said, “but sometimes I think you have to stop worrying about how it’ll all turn out and just embrace a moment for the moment that it is.”

“Wow,” he said flatly. “I don’t think I’ve seen you once practice that philosophy.”

“Oh, shut up,” she laughed.

He rocked their hands, leaning into her as well. “No, I get it, though. I do.”

“So …” She pulled back to look at him. “What’s the homage gonna be when you ask? What script are you working off?”

After a moment, he looked at her, face painted with an awkward little smile.

“I think maybe I’ll just wing it,” he said. “Speak from the cold, mechanical heart, and all that.”

A breath escaped her nose. She smiled at him. “Yeah. Yeah, I think that’s a good idea.”

For a few moments, there was quiet.

“Hey, Annie?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

He nodded, shy, and looked away again. The heat between their palms and their pressed-against sides was starting to become uncomfortable, but Annie didn’t want to leave. This was Abed, her Abed, her boys, and, if push came to shove, she could have stayed like that forever.

[andcurioser]

So. Let’s talk about Veronica Mars. *deeeeeeeep sigh*

Ok, friends. It’s been a goddamn whirlwind for me. I actually went to the Veronica Mars panel at Comic Con, which I thought was a highlight at the time. They screened the first episode before the panel, and I was all ready to report back to you all that it was real good and to get excited for the new season, but then Hulu had to go and drop the whole damn series during the CC panel, which was a STUPID thing to do (or, at the very least, an extremely stupid thing to announce to the panel at Comic Con - the exact people who would not be able to watch it until after Comic Con, putting them at risk for some really big fucking spoilers. It’s genuinely surprising to me how little the people who are in charge think about these things. If you want to do a surprise drop (which, why, but whatever), sure, go and do it, but definitely don’t announce it to a room full of people who can’t enjoy it and expect them to be excited??). But regardless. That was just a wtf moment. I was still filled with enthusiasm and excitement and happiness that this show was back and seemed to be in good form. 

Oy. 

Cut to Tuesday morning. I got back from Comic Con on Sunday night, and life goes on, so of course I hadn’t watched 8 hours of TV by Tuesday at 7AM. Which is precisely when my dear friend, whom I adore, but who is apparently an idiot, texted me about how terrible that VM ending was and how upset she was. Now, because I’m a good friend and I know what she likes and we’ve discussed VM at length, it took me all of four seconds to know the gist of what happens in the end. I didn’t know the how or why, but I certainly knew the what. Cue fun spikes of anxiety and random bursts of rage, because what the fuck. Truly, what the fuck. But I placed my certainty at 99% and hopelessly clung to the 1% chance that I was wrong, knowing full well that I wasn’t. This obviously completely stymied any excitement I had for the show, and I dragged my heels for a full month before finally finishing the goddamn show just to get it over with. And now we’re here. 

I’ve had a month to ready myself for what I knew was coming. It was both a blessing and a curse, since while it pretty thoroughly ruined my good time, it also meant that I wasn’t totally blindsided by that ending. And man, I would have been blindsided, because there was Z E R O reason for that. None. And now I’ve read all the articles in which Rob Thomas tries to explain his reasons, and they’re all nonsense. Absolute idiocy. All I see is a guy who always, always resented the fans for loving a character he didn’t want us to, who tried and tried to redirect us to one of his preferred creations without success, and just when I thought he’d finally accepted defeat, he pulls the most nonsensical of fuckery just to finally win the battle. Fuck you, RT, forever and always. I can’t fucking believe that I allowed myself to think you’d finally seen the light. What a ridiculous fool I was for giving him the benefit of the doubt. 

Since I knew what was coming, I could look for the signs all throughout the season. So I searched for foreshadowing, or at least a narrative through-line. And let me tell you: there isn’t one. The season finally, rightfully seems to address Veronica’s deep-set trauma and trust issues but treats them like a problem and not a secret superpower, and it seemed like the show might expect Veronica to grow up along with the viewers who’ve aged 15 years since the first season? I was excited to finally have Veronica be the problem in a relationship, frankly. It was hinted at with Piz, but glossed over because there was only so much time in the movie, but it was realistic for her to have some trouble adjusting to a long-term, committed relationship, and I was excited to see that journey! I thought it was such an interesting path to go down, watching Veronica grapple with what she wants (or maybe just thinks she wants) vs. what she’s always known, or thought she knows. Lots of stuff there! Good stuff! And you get all the way to the end, when she’s finally decided to try. It isn’t fixed, it isn’t perfectly, she’s definitely got a long way to go, but she’s taken a few tentative steps into an uncertain future. And all of a sudden, quite literally, boom. It’s all gone. 

Listen. I was never going to be a fan of getting rid of Logan. However they chose to do it, it would always feel wrong. I have never trusted Rob Thomas to handle Logan well, because he’s always had this undercurrent of anger in every interview I’ve read, this frustration that people love and respond to Logan when he wanted them to love Duncan! Then Piz! Then anyone else! His creations took on a life of their own, and RT hated it. RT was one of the ultimate examples of writers/show runners who were simply watching a completely different show than the rest of us. I could never understand how he wrote such interesting stuff for Logan but didn’t want us to root for him. It never made any sense. But I didn’t think he would sabotage his own show this thoroughly. 

Because here’s the thing: I was never going to like him getting rid of Logan, but I could have understood it. I could have gone along with it if it had been done right. Frankly, the way it was building, it wouldn’t have been a surprise, nor would it even have been a bad choice, to have Logan break up with Veronica at the end of the season. And if RT couldn’t handle Veronica not being the aggressor, fine, make Veronica do it. She decides she isn’t willing to put in the work to change that Logan needs from her, and she ends it. Fine. Could work, at least for a few seasons. Let her deal with the loss, knowing it was something she chose, and see how it affects her priorities as she continues on. Certainly could be interesting! 

You know what isn’t interesting? This. This is the only - the ONLY - plotline that’s a watered down repeat of a previous story. Veronica Mars, traumatized and hardened by the shocking loss of someone close to her? Quite literally, been there, done that. I know RT has been trying to recapture the magic of season one for every season and iteration since, but just repeating the storyline? Really, really missing the mark. There isn’t anything new that can be added to this. We’ve done this. This will only ever be a pale imitation, a tacked-on sequel hitting the same beats with less force. Lilly was a fantastic inciting incident that yielded a tight, well-thought-out season arc. But why would we want to start over 15 years later? What’s to be gained from this? Literally ANY other ending would have yielded multiple storytelling options, branching out with so many possibilities on where the characters could go. This is the only one that simply slams doors shut. 

The few supporters of this ending I’ve seen around the interwebs keep saying things like “this show wouldn’t work if Veronica was happy!” Hell, Rob Thomas is saying the same thing. And to that idiocy, I can only say 1. of course it would, if you write it well, dumbass, and 2. if you think Veronica getting married immediately = happiness, well, what the hell show were you watching? The marriage, much as it could represent a step forward, was still VERY CLEARLY a huge, impulsive jump that was more a reaction than a measured decision. And that was something I was looking forward to seeing. Fresh off of a near-death experience and a renewed assurance of her love for Logan, Veronica marries him thinking that’s the end of their troubles, only to realize that it’s just another complication. Now Veronica has to deal with the new experience of having no quick exit strategy. All the problems they had throughout the season still exist, thinly covered by the veil of newlywed bliss, and she has to reconcile her happiness with her frustration and uncertainty. Logan still disappears at the drop of a hat because of his job. She still puts herself in danger for the case and uses loved ones and acquaintances alike to her full advantage. They hide things from each other. They love fiercely, they trust the other with their own lives but can’t trust each other to take care of themselves. Doesn’t this sound like a complicated, tumultuous relationship full of narrative possibilities? 

Well, forget it, because why break new ground when you could retread old storylines? Yeah, that’s what we all want. Great job, RT. So smart. 

Something that keeps bothering me is that if RT didn’t want Logan around as the happy husband at home but didn’t want to write more relationship drama between them? He already had the perfect excuse to ship Logan off for entire seasons at a time. Look, Logan’s deployed, oh no, he can’t even skype, he’s undercover! Cool, problem solved. No more Logan, but in a way that still maintains possibilities for the future should we want them. Ideal. Again, options. All you want are places for your narrative to go. Multiple roads it could take so it doesn’t become predictable. 

This is predictable. This is boring. This is trite. Our heroes, struck down in their highest moment of happiness. Holy fuck, it’s dull. It doesn’t feel edgy. It feels derivative, a tired rehash of a narrative structure that should have gone out of vogue ten years ago. The whole thing just exhausts me at this point. 

And I’ve read Rob Thomas’s justification for why he did it. They’re all flimsy, but if he wants to go do a Sherlock-style, Ms. Marple mystery series, flitting in and out as he pleases, fine. It won’t be the worst show in the world. Veronica’s still a fun and interesting character, and I’ll always enjoy watching her. But removing her from Neptune, and more importantly, removing her from all of her meaningful relationships, takes away what made this show special. The new version RT is pitching could be fun enough. But it’ll still be just one in a long, long line of mystery shows that don’t have much claim to my emotional investment. I might watch, but I’ll forget about it the second it’s over. It certainly won’t be the kind of show with a fanbase that will still be interested in watching more 15 years from now. Rob Thomas won’t be getting one of those again. 

So yeah, that’s that. I have much more to say, but really I just wanted to get this rant out so I can put it all behind me. I learned long ago that I can’t trust shows and showrunners, and it’s a lesson I learned partly, if significantly, from Rob Thomas. I suppose it’s on me for letting my guard down, but I guess my hope got grandfathered in from an age when I didn’t immediately mistrust the things that were supposed to make me happy. I’ll know better next time. 

[manikas-whims]

Hi, i follow your todomomo oneshots book on ao3. You said you're taking requests. So uh can you please write Momo comforting Shouto after a mistake on his mission. Ohh and can you please make them older in this. ty

Thank you so much for this request dear anon :3

Consoling His Heart

Words: 2059

Rating: T+ (slight kissing)

Read on: AO3 | FFnet

He found her standing on the porch of their shared house, her radiant smile brightening everything around her. On sighting his approaching form, she raised an arm and began waving it, as if she was ecstatic to see him again. She was always there, bidding him farewells when he left for missions and greeting him with open arms upon his returns. Always.. And he was glad (fortunate actually) to have her as an important part of his rather dull lifestyle as the number 3 Pro Hero of Japan. She made him happy, filled the emptiness he always used to experience. She made him believe that he was more than just a man born of his father’s stubborn resolve for supremacy. He was always grateful of her. But that day, he couldn’t face her. After the offence he had committed on his latest mission, his hands were sullied by a wrong he could never wash off. And he didn’t want to tarnish her pristine skin with his touch.

“I just saw you on TV and figured you’d be coming back soon so I came outside to wait.” She told him cheerfully, stretching her arms as an invitation for a hug. But he couldn’t even meet her gaze.

Nodding his head in acknowledgement, he walked right past her inside their house, ignoring the confused expression marring her beautiful face.

Shouto Todoroki didn’t deem himself worthy of her.

Her brows knitted together in confusion due to his sudden aloofness towards her yet she shrugged it off as mere side-effects of the grueling mission he was sent on. Turning around, she followed after him into their house. She shook her head, her petal lips curving up into a fond smile. Like always, he had left his boots carelessly on the floor so she arranged them in their proper place in the shoe rack.

They’ve been in a relationship for two years now. She was the one who couldn’t bottle her feelings anymore and ended up confessing to him during their final year at UA. He was shocked at the revelation because apparently ‘he didn’t consider himself on par with her’. Whatever that means. As soon as they graduated, they joined separate agencies to work under, making it hard for them to see each-other much. And so, this year onwards, she suggested that they start living together, to which he agreed without any hesitation. The only reason they haven’t tied the knot yet is because (again) ‘he wanted her to be sure of whether she wished to spend the rest of her life with him or not’.

Frankly speaking, she doesn’t understand the point of such questions or why he wants her to reflect on her decisions again and again. He made her realize what she was capable of and for that she will always be thankful. He made her happy, made her feel strong and important, not just as a pro hero but as an individual.

Momo Yaoyorozu couldn’t imagine her life without his calm presence in it.

With one last look around the porch, she closed the door and walked towards their bedroom. She blushed at a faint memory of all the unspeakable things they’d done in that very room but quickly pushed it away.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed, face as devoid of emotions as ever. But she was so used to seeing it that she easily caught the hints of self-loathing swimming in his mismatched irises. He was back at it— questioning his existence and doubting his worth.

“Shouto”, She called softly as she entered the room and approached him.

He jerked his face to glance at her before receding back into his glum state of mind and mumbled in a grave tone, “I failed.”

She was stupefied by his choice of words. Failure and Shouto Todoroki did not belong in the same sentence. The word failure had no relation to him whatsoever. For the four years that she had known him, she had always seen him learn from his mistakes and improve until he became a great hero. She was there to witness it all. She saw him become the man she came to love not simply because of his striking features but because of whom he was.

She’d been watching the news just minutes ago and media was singing praises about the success of his mission. So then, why exactly was he sitting so dejectedly?

Kneeling down before him, she cradled his face in her palms and tilted it, making his pair of gray and blue eyes meet her onyx ones. “What happened? The news said it went well and-”

“I failed, Momo.” He repeated, his jaw tightening. “I was supposed to apprehend the man running those fighting pits. Instead I nearly killed a little kid’s mother.”

She moved her fingers further up his grimy face into his equally dirty hair and began massaging his scalp. “Hey, calm down.” She said in a soothing tone, “I know you, Shouto. You can never hurt anyone.”

His lips quivered at the degree of faith she had in him. He shook his head like a child feeling the guilt of stealing cookies from a jar he wasn’t allowed to touch. “No you don’t..” His hands shot out and his long fingers wrapped around her dainty wrists, in hopes of channeling his anger at himself. “There were a lot of spectators so I called the back up team. But before they could even reach the scene, panic broke out amongst the audience because well..all of them have some sort of history in crimes. They got scared as soon as I broke in and began running about.”

Momo listened to his explanation patiently, nodding every once in a while. “The owner, he ordered his strongest fighters to deal with me. And..” He gritted his teeth in frustration, “..and I was so consumed by the thoughts of detaining the pit owner that I..I used my left side and..there was a kid. He was crying so much for his mother. But I didn’t understand. I was so consumed with rage..”

He took a long breath, averting his eyes at his dark haired girlfriend of two years, wondering if he should really tell her the remaining bit. He wanted to. Whenever his mind made him restless, he vented to her because he knew she’d have a solution to his problems. She always had. So he just needed her to listen to him once more. He knew he was being pathetic, behaving like that at the age of 20 but he needed her to listen and understand. He wanted her to be certain of their relationship. He wanted to know if she’d choose to stay even after hearing what an abhorrent deed he had committed.

“I released a large wave of fire at the three pit fighters and this lady out of nowhere jumped in front of one guy. The kid..his cries grew louder and he began running towards the scene..” Shouto gulped, his hold on Momo’s wrists tightened before going completely lax and he let go of them. “Everything clicked in that moment and I realised the lady and the man she was trying to protect were parents of that crying child. I was the bad guy there. I was fighting against his father and attacked his parents with my flames. Thanks to the backup team and police officers for showing up. The parents of that kid haven’t sustained any life-threatening injuries and will be out of the local hospital soon.” His fingers crawled up his cheeks and he removed her palms, replacing them with his own to bury his face in shame. “I almost killed them. If police wouldn’t have arrived when they did-”

The dual haired Todoroki's eyes widened at being silenced instantly by a finger on his dry lips. Momo shushed him. Casualties are unavoidable on missions like these and they hurt a lot. But to detest himself over an obvious mistake is so..stupid and yet so like him.

“You didn’t mean it, Shouto.” She said assertively , “There are so many things we can infer from this whole happening. First of all, if those two had decided to be criminals, then they should’ve considered the consequences of bringing a child in their life. But since they did have a kid, those parents should have atleast been rational enough to not bring the kid to a dangerous place like a fighting pit..”

She knew she was rambling but guys like Shouto are so hard upon themselves that they need proper clarifications. They need people like Midoriya or herself to tell them that its not their fault, that there’s no harm in letting things go instead of shouldering unnecessary blames. “Yes, you used your fire on them but it was a mere defensive measure you took amidst a battle. And they’re both still alive and recovering so be glad. If anything, this mission will be an experience not just for you but them as well. Maybe this will be the moment of their awakening. Maybe they’ll finally understand the repercussions a child suffers due to their parents' actions. Maybe they’ll actually take this as a sign and move forward to become good civilians and give their child the life he deserves..”

Shouto peeked through his fingers up at her, his eyes widened in bewilderment. “How do you do this? How do you redefine my worst aspects as if they weren’t bad to begin with? How do you make me look like this saint that I’m not?”

“You’re not a saint.” She answered, pulling his hands away from his face and entwining their fingers. “But you’re no sinner either. You’re just human.”

She smiled lovingly at him, “Humans make rash decisions. You were concentrating on the objective of your mission and wanted to eradicate the hindrances quickly. That’s all. But now you’ve learnt that being reckless can be harmful at times. So stop being so resentful towards yourself and move on.”

Shouto narrowed his eyes in confusion and gazed intensely at her, searching for that thing in her eyes that makes her so kind and benevolent. He felt the heaviness being lifted off his soul, the ache alleviated from his heart. He felt lighter— better! And it only took her a few sensible words to ease his mind of the chaos. Somehow he always lost himself to the smallest of his errs but she was right there, offering her hands to help him up. And he knew she’ll be there for him in the future too but he needed assurance. He just wanted to hear her say it again.

“Momo,” he called in a feeble tone, staring at her innocently, “Are you sure you want to-”

“Yes Shouto” she cut him off immediately, knowing very well what he was asking her for the umpteenth time since they started dating, “I want to be with you forever. I will never leave you. I will always be here with you.”

His heart brimmed with joy at her honest confession and he spoke instinctively, “I love you.”

She grinned at him, pulling him up into a standing position by tugging at their interlinked fingers, “I love you too, you adorable dummy. Now go get washed up. In the meantime, I’ll cook some soba.”

She let go of his hands but was barely able to leave the room as he snaked his arms around her hips, turning her around and capturing her bottom lip between his. He began kissing and nipping, his demeanor suddenly changing entirely with wanton need for her. Afterall, one of the major reasons for his hastiness during the mission was so he could get back to her as soon as possible and ravish her.

She slapped his arms playfully, willing him to get going already but he only released her lips to worship her alluring neck instead, whispering breathlessly, “I need help cleaning up.”

She giggled at his statement and let him carry her to the shower. He really needed to keep his personal desires in check during work so he won’t do something as precarious as he did on this mission. But for now, he wanted to pay her back just as much love as she gave him everyday. And he was way better at expressing himself with his actions.

*Send requests for SasuSaku, TodoMomo, HitsuHina, Zenyuki via asks ☺

[creativelyderangedme]

Breaking Point Chapter 4

Adrien learns what’s been going on behind his back between Marinette and Lila - spoiler alert, he’s pissed.

Want to read the rest of the story? AO3 is updated up to Chapter 7

Chapter 4: The Reason

Now it was Adrien’s turn to blink at the girl in shock.

No. There was no way he’d heard that correctly.

But the trepidation reflected in those usually clear blue eyes quickly confirmed that he had in fact heard every word exactly as she’d said them.

So that shock was very quickly being replaced by the same burning fury he’d felt when confronting Lila at their first shoot together. It was festering low in his gut, like a pulsing smoldering ember. Reluctant to flare into an inferno because he was still hesitant to believe he’d heard what he thought he had.

“What do you mean ‘threatened’ ?” He asked, momentarily regretting the dark turn of his tone after watching Marinette flinch slightly. But he couldn’t stop it.  

Marinette fidgeted under what he could only assume had morphed into an intense gaze.

Because he was watching her.

All of her.  

Studying the little ticks and movements her body made that advertised her discomfort. The way her lips parted and she’d begun to breathe unsteadily through her mouth - fuck, he could practically hear the pounding of her heart in those breaths. The way her eyes darted away from him, like she couldn’t keep in contact with him, but not out of shyness.

This was not the timidness that made up Marinette’s usual interactions with him.

As much as he’d been disappointed at the beginning of their friendship that that shyness kept her from being able to talk to him, he’d grown to embrace it. Accept it. Communicate around it. Eventually, they’d fallen into their own sort of language because of that and that eventually developed into the friendship they had now.

But that meant he knew what it looked like.

And this was not it.

“Marinette?” He pushed and he recognized the look in her eye instantly. There was a desire to run. To walk away from the conversation. Hide from it. Pretend it didn’t happen.

He recognized it because he’d had that same look not ten minutes ago.

But she seemed to come to the same conclusions he had.

Silence wasn’t going to fix anything.

Which was even truer since she’d already mentioned something to him. Even if she did run away from him now, it wouldn’t stop him from pursuing the truth later.

Eventually, she groaned loudly, body releasing the tension it had been hoarding in her shoulders over the last couple of minutes so now she looked like she was nearly limbless as she relented to her fate.

“Look, you’re not the only one who’s been doing things on their own.”

He wanted to fire back a snarky ‘I see that’, but knew it would do him no favors. She didn’t deserve that. She’d been so patient with him when the tables were turned. So he kept his mouth shut, waiting for her to gather her thoughts and continue.

“The day Lila came back after… wherever the hell she went, and the class seating got moved around?” She glanced at him, her mouth forming something else, but looked away, choosing to leave it at that.

His eyes narrowed on her.

Of course, he remembered.

And he knew exactly what she’d omitted.

“You mean the day I told you to leave Lila’s lies alone?” His brow rose, unimpressed, making her scowl at him, “ Yeah, I think I recall something about that.” The sarcasm was an unintended side effect, but they were talking about the thing that had driven him to do all of this in the first place.

So as kind as it was that she was trying to spare his feelings, he needed to hear the truth. All of it.

She pouted again, her mouth pulling to the side in another scowl, unhappy that he’d called attention to it, but continued anyway, clearing her throat, “Yes. That day. Right before the Akuma attack, Lila cornered me in the bathroom and threatened me.”

“Threatened how?”

“Why does it matter?”

He stared at her incredulously for a moment, “Are you serious right now?”

They stared again, but Adrien wasn’t backing down. This was important. And frankly, he couldn’t understand why she was suddenly being so stingy with the details.

They stared a bit longer. Their gazes stuck on the other in a battle of wills.

One the blonde was determined to win.

A frustrated groan erupted from her finally, accompanied by a heavy roll of her eyes that seemed to drag her head along with it, “It’s stupid, alright?” She spat, her tone matching his as they fed off of each other’s shifting moods.

It wasn’t what he’d wanted, but if it got her talking, he’d take it and would deal with the repercussions of her temper later.

“I-I thought she was being petty and trying to psych me out because I wasn’t falling in line like everyone else. She said that she’d make everyone hate me, okay? And yeah, I was definitely upset - but come on! I’ve known some of our classmates since we were in diapers. I had more faith in everyone than to just believe she’d turn them on me. And then after school, she managed to catch me before I left and said I’d made my choice and that we were at war.”

She breathed heavily after finishing, trying but failing to maintain a hard look back at him, quickly losing steam as her face softened once more.

She really couldn’t stay mad at him for long, could she?

Interesting Info for another time.

It was a lot to process. A lot to unpack. But Adrien was starting to understand why she’d seemed so hesitant to share at first.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Why didn’t you?” She countered without missing a beat, arms crossing defensively over her chest.

He’d inhaled for his next round of comments and that breath caught in his throat like he’d been sucker-punched below the belt. But he wouldn’t concede to that. “It’s not the same.” His head tilted with the pointed look he gave her.

Because there was no way she actually believed-

“Isn’t it?”

She did. She actually thought they were the same thing.

“No! Marinette, she threatened to take away your friends!”

Her eyes were wide, shoulders hunching in an exaggerated shrug - her entire body conveying her indifference, “But it was a stupid threat!”

And they called him the sunshine child.

He nodded at her point because it wasn’t like she was wrong. It was stupid in that, in a perfect world, it would have been impossible. Lila could have threatened something much worse. But that wasn’t the problem, was it? “Fine, but it was a threat she was making good on.”

That had her hesitating, opening her mouth to argue but closing it again. There wasn’t anything to argue. They weren’t talking in theoretics here. This wasn’t a perfect world.  

“Even before she managed to convince the school to expel you - I’ll come back to that in a moment - she was making you out to be a bully. Every time you argued against her, she managed to turn it on you. I wasn’t there for everything, but I heard about some of it from Nino later on.”

He took a breath, watching her take in and consider his words.

But he wasn’t done.

“But let’s go back to what brought us here today in the first place. Marinette, she actually convinced the school administration that you, a.) cheated on a test where you have perfect scores in the subject, b.) pushed her down a flight of stairs in a jealous rage, and c.) stole her personal property. Even some of our class was convinced.”

None of that was conjecture. Every single point he made, which he’d ticked off on his fingers to further enunciate was unexaggerated fact. It hadn’t just been a lie or a story that was turned around to make her look unpleasant. There had been evidence.  

Lila hadn’t just threatened to turn people against Marinette, she’d struck a masterful blow to Marinette’s reputation with little hope of recovery. It could be done, but it would be like clawing her way out of hell.

A frown had made its home on her lips, hands balling into fists in her lap, “As I said, I figured she’d try something. I just didn’t expect the lengths she’d go to.”

Her blue eyes were clear as she met his searching gaze then and he understood. It hadn’t been indifference he’d seen in her before. It was acceptance. She’d already come to these conclusions on her own. She was smart like that.

And that at least granted him a small bit of comfort.

But it still bothered him. Because she didn’t have to do it alone. Just like him, she wasn’t alone in this fight - she didn’t have to suffer all of this by herself.

The high road only went so far.

He swallowed, willing that heat that radiated from his anger to ease from his words, allowing them to get softer, “I get why you didn’t say anything to the class, especially after they’d sided with Lila as much as they had. But why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t know? Because I thought I could handle it? Because, you were right?” she shrugged, having retreated within herself a bit more at this inquisition.

“No, I wasn’t! Lying about who you know or where you’ve been, that’s one thing. But she attacked you. If - if I had known, I wouldn’t have said those things. I wouldn’t have told you-”

“Adrien, stop. Your advice is not the root cause of all my problems, okay? And it’s not like you were wrong! I mean, that entire day just proves it. You said it yourself, trying to out her did nothing but paint me to be the bad guy.”

“Okay, sure, but-”

She put a hand up, effectively silencing him, some of that confidence and resolve he knew so well coming back to her features, “But nothing. At the time, it had been nothing more than a stupid threat. And while, yeah, okay, your advice was a little ill-timed and I took it a little too much to heart, you had the best intentions with the limited information you had.” She allowed for her lips to pull up, “If anything, you confirmed for me what I’d already known at the time. No matter what Lila did, she couldn’t turn everyone on me. I had you on my side and I had faith that I’d have the others as well. That’s why I didn’t say anything.”

She’d had faith that even if Lila made good on her threat, that her friends would stand by her. That he would stand by her. And that kind of trust was something he didn’t feel like he deserved. But she’d been right. In the end, he had been there - no matter how little he’d been able to do at the time.

And the way she was looking at him now told him that no matter what he had to argue back at her next, it was a moot point. She didn’t blame him, no matter how much he blamed himself. And she wouldn’t hear anything else on the matter.

This was… a lot. But he’d needed to hear it. All of it. Which, despite how determined she was to end the conversation at that, he pushed with one last question.

“Is that everything?”

It was clear she hadn’t expected him to ask the follow-up. And while it was also clear she wanted very much to say that it was, to put this all the bed, Marinette hesitated, biting her lip after a moment of prolonged silence.

Oh no. “What?” he asked and was surprised at the pleading in his voice.

“I’m… pretty sure that the Akuma that infected Lila that afternoon is the one that had been meant for me.”

And wasn’t that the icing on the goddamned cake?

Twice.

Lila had nearly caused Marinette to be Akumatized twice. And the second time, she’d nearly succeeded.

All that fury and rage he'd been denying himself came back full force, mounting and building on itself. It was an anger that surprised even himself. What surprised him the most in all of the tumultuous emotions ringing through his head was the growing desire to-  

“I’m going to kill her,” he muttered decisively.

Wide bluebell eyes met him and she nearly squeaked, “W-what?! Y-You can’t do that!”

Oh, he begged to differ. The overly possessive need to protect his friend was telling him otherwise.

“Can’t or shouldn’t? Because I think I’m more than capable of committing murder.” And he knew Plagg was more than happy to comply at this point. Hadn’t he offered his help just a bit ago? Why had he turned him down again?

“No! I’m not going to condone the murder of another person - no matter how much I might hate them.”

“No one said you had to condone it.”

She pursed her lips for a moment, gaze darting over his features, “You can’t be serious, right now.”

“On the contrary, I'm quite serious. In fact, I’d be doing you and everyone else in Paris a service." He'd be doing himself a service. Both sides of himself. "You know who’d back me up? Ladybug and Chat Noir. Lila’s as bad if not worse than Chloe when it comes to being an Akuma or causing them. I’m sure they’d be thrilled to know they have one less psycho they have to worry about.” He’d crossed his arms over his chest during his rant, taking a breath to watch her before something sprang to mind, making his eyes narrow on Marinette conspiratorially as a devious grin took form, “Aren’t you friends with Chat Noir? You should ask him to help and see what he says. I’m paw-sitive he’d agree with me.”

The pun was a little much, but it had the desired effect as the Baker’s daughter sputtered with a roll of her eyes.

“I’m not asking Chat Noir to murder someone for me! He’s a hero! Murder is a crime!”

“What is it they say in the US? No body, no crime? Cataclysm is such an uncontrollably destructive power. What if he 'accidentally' called for it while giving her a handshake or high five?” God, now he was sounding just like Plagg. The little Kwami was rubbing off on him, but he couldn't find it in himself to care.

Not with the way Marinette seemed to struggle with keeping that growing amused grin off her face. “Stop it. You’re being terrible.” she tried admonishing him, but her words held no actual heat. She was enjoying this as much as he was it seemed. And that helped soothe him a bit from his murderous intentions.

Not that he wasn’t completely serious. No one messed with his friends. Especially someone as kind and caring as Marinette.

But for now, he could leave the premeditation for later. “I’m just saying, Marinette. Wasted opportunity.”

“I can’t believe we’re having this conversation.”

She chuckled then with a shake of her head, eyes finding him. The sound was humored and her gaze danced with mirth despite the darker turn their jokes had taken. “I didn’t take you for the vindictive type, Agreste.” her stare swept over him as if taking him in for the first time. Reevaluating long drawn conclusions of his character, but the sly upturn of her lips told him she was not disappointed to find a bit of darkness to the so-called sunshine child.

“It’s pretty hot, actually.”

No, apparently not disappointed in the least.

Adrien's brows shot up to his hairline, green eyes wide before he had to suck his lips in and clench them shut with his teeth in shock and utter amusement.

So shocked in fact, that he couldn't actually process the fact that she'd been talking about him. Because that was a whole other can of worms he was definitely not prepared to address at the moment. Because HOLY SHIT Marinette had just essentially checked him out and called him hot. Not like he hadn't been called that before, but this was Marinette Dupain-Cheng. And if anyone was as innocent as him, it was her.

And poor, sweet, (maybe not-so) innocent Marinette looked like she might die of heat stroke the way her face flushed the loveliest shade of crimson as her own words finally dawned on her.

Scientifically speaking, it really shouldn't be possible to turn that color naturally. But she did.

“Forget I said that.” he was surprised when she managed to speak clearly, normally when she got even a fraction as flustered as she looked right then, her words turned to riddles. “Oh my god, please, please forget I said that. I-I didn’t-”

He could have consoled her. He should have consoled her. Told her she was fine and it was okay, he wasn't offended. In fact, the part of him quickly coming to terms with the fact that he too had misjudged the girl sitting front of him and, fuck, she'd called him hot, was more than a little flattered. But all this rebellious talk and spite had his Chat Noir showing and he couldn't help but scrutinize her as that signature teasing grin took over his face.

“So you do have a type. Good to know. I never would have guessed you preferred the bad boy genre.” his grin deepened dangerously as she sputtered uselessly in response, egging him on further. It was just too much fun messing with her like this. “Though I am starting to understand the friendship with Chat Noir.” his finger came to tap his chin before turning the Chat Charm up to 11. “It’s the leather, isn’t it?”

"A-Adrien!"

Huh, interestingly enough, it was possible to get even more flushed as Marinette seemed to go at least another three shades darker. If he wasn't so busy laughing at her expense, he might have been worried about her health. Or, at the very least, morbidly fascinated at such a scientific discovery.

There was a rustle of movement as Marinette snatched the pillow he'd maintained his grasp on and began pummeling him with it, but all that served to do was make him laugh harder as his arms came up to help block the onslaught.

“You’re. The. Worst!” She yelled with every hit.

“You’re not denying it!” He laughed out in response, finally managing to catch the makeshift weapon and throw in a soft hit of his own for good measure, keeping the pillow out of her reach when she dove for it again.

The look of complete and utter embarrassment mixed with the determined fire in her eyes made it so much more enjoyable. Any other time, he would have apologized, but this back and forth was everything he’d ever wanted out of a friendship with Marinette. And it was like breathing fresh air. Both of them goofing off and just being themselves.

It made him appreciate her in a whole new way. Made him give her a quick (maybe not-so-quick) once-over as well as he memorized the look she was giving him. Memorize the constellation of freckles over her nose and cheeks. Memorize the specks of dark blue in her otherwise sky blue gaze.

But all good things had to come to an end eventually.

The end of their little pillow fight came with multiple chimes from both of their cell phones that had gone largely forgotten in their time talking together.

It broke them out of their stare-off, scrambling away from each other to find their devices.

A peek at the screen was enough to ground Adrien back to reality as he saw nearly a dozen missed texts from Nino, Alya and a couple from Lila all asking where he’d disappeared to.

He peered up to find a frown on Marinette’s face as she too examined her phone, “Looks like our absences have been noticed.”

He nodded, pulling up the messages from Nino:

Nino 7:55 am

Hey man, where’d ya go? Lila said you ran to the bathroom but that was like 10 min ago.

Nino 7:58 am

You feeling alright? Need me to cover for you? Get some meds from the infirmary?

Nino 8:00 am

Dude, I’m gettin a lil worried. Give me a sign or somethin?

Nino 8:02 am

The bell rang like 2 mins ago and you still haven’t even read these. Where the hell are you? Mari isn’t here either.  

Nino 8:09 am

Alya can’t reach Mari and we’re both pretty worried, so please once you see this, give us a sign you’re ok?

Nino 8:30 am

Okay seriously. Imma call the cops cause this isn’t like you, Bro. You haven’t been like kidnapped right? I don’t even know what to do in this kind of situation!

Nino 8:32 am

PLEASE BRO. I’M LOSING MY SHIT RIGHT NOW. PLEASE. Just tell me you’re bein’ rebellious and not like kidnapped. Or dead. Please don’t be dead.

Nino 8:45 am

Dude. I… don’t think I’d be able to handle finding out you were dead all this time.

Nino 8:48 am

Like I don’t knw that my heart could take it

Nino 8:50 am

I’d have to write a eulogy and talk at your funeral.

Nino 8:55 am

FRIENDS DON’T MAKE FRIENDS TALK AT THEIR UNTIMELY FUNERALS, BRO. DON’T DO ME LIKE THIS.

Nino 9:00 am

Okay… like all jokes aside, I’m really freaked out. No one can get in contact with you or Mari and if I don’t hear anything in the next 10 minutes I will call the cops.

Nino 9:08 am

Don’t think I won’t! I’m dead serious, Agreste. If you are pranking me right now I’mma kick your ass.

Adrien chuckled all the way through his messages from Nino. The guy was usually so chill. It was funny - if not totally heartwarming - to see him freak out over his sudden absence.

As he re-read over the last messages another came through:

Nino 9:09 am

Last chance.

With a loving roll of his eyes, Adrien set out to relieve his friend of his overactive imagination.

Adrien 9:09 am

Don’t call the cops Nino! I’m fine! I just didn’t see the messages until just now. Sorry Bro, didn’t mean to freak you out.

The response was immediate.

Nino 9:09 am

FUCK DUDE. I WAS SO CLOSE TO CALLING IN THE ARMY. WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN???

Adrien 9:10 am

I did go to the bathroom. On my way back to class, I ran into Mari who looked really sick. I was worried, so I helped get her back home.

He frowned as he hit send on his last message to his best friend, but tried to not let it get to him. He hated lying to Nino like this, but it had to be done. At least for now.

He peaked back up to find that Marinette had swapped out her phone for one of the nearly forgotten snacks she’d brought up for them as she sat patiently waiting for him to finish, nibbling slowly at the end of a croissant.

“Is Alya freaking out as much as Nino?”

She chuckled with a nod, “Yeah. Threatened to post about me being missing on the Ladyblog.”

Another chime caught his attention, bringing his eyes back down to the device in his hands.

Nino 9:11 am

Oh geez - I hope Mari’s okay. Looks like she just messaged Alya and said she almost fainted? Scary. So did you just decide to be her nurse for the day or something?

Adrien had been in the process of reaching for a snack as well when he nearly choked.

Adrien 9:12 am

WHAT?! NO! Her parents asked me to sit with her until the doctor got here. You can ask them!

Nino 9:12 am

XD Dude, I’m just messin. Seriously, tho - way to be a hero man! I’m sure she super appreciates it.

Nino 9:13 am

But, you do plan on coming back to school right? Like if she’s really that sick, it’s prob not best to hang around too long.

He had a point. Even if the illness was fake, hanging around more than necessary would be just as suspicious. No matter how much Adrien wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of the day in this newfound safe haven.

“It’s probably about time you headed back to class, huh?” Marinette brought his attention back to her while also somehow reading his mind.

She’d slipped back into that soft smile she seemed to have for him today, all jokes and embarrassment forgotten.

He nodded, standing up slowly and stretching to bring his body back to alertness, “I suppose so. Thanks again for all of this. I - I really needed it. The escape and the talk.” His arm snaked back to rub nervously at the back of his neck as she too stood and stretched.

“You and me both needed this, so please don’t worry about it. We should do it again sometime.”

There was a moment of hesitation and thickness in the air between them. Something unresolved. Something neither of them wanted to leave hanging there, but neither knowing what to do with the beast of burden.

Well, he didn’t know what to do. But leave it to Marinette Dupain-Cheng to know exactly what to say as she reached out and squeezed his arm, “We’ll figure all of this out, Adrien. Not right now, but soon. I promise.”

He nodded, because how did someone follow-up after such encouraging words? He couldn’t. She said it all and so much more and it helped him quell any lingering dread having to go back to class without her.

But that still meant he’d have to say goodbye and leave. Which he was finding hard to convince himself to do. But he knew he had to. He just didn't want them slipping back into those old tense habits. He wanted the fun fiery Marinette all the time. He wanted to be able to keep talking with her. He wanted to have contact with her.

He wanted to hug her. Like she'd hugged him earlier. But pouncing on her was probably a bad idea. They'd made so much ground in such a short time. He didn't want to scare her away.

“Can-can I hug you again?” He asked instead, opened his arms in invitation, a shy bubbling hope filling his chest and making him anxious as he watched her eyes go wide and her cheeks flush again.

But she didn’t leave him hanging.

Marinette smiled softly before stepping into the space, wrapping her arms around him and almost burying herself in his frame like he was one of the pillows on her bed.

Who was he to deny her the same?

Adrien wrapped her snuggly in his own embrace, resting his chin happily on top of her head and closing his eyes. Resisting the urge to purr in delight.

Oh yeah. He was quickly developing a need for hugs like this from now on.

“Hey,” her voice came out muffled from his shirt. Quiet and timid once more.

He hummed in response, feeling all that boiling rage from their earlier confessions cooled and tamed while she was wrapped safely in his arms. Not just their conversation. He felt the tension of the last month had been soothed from his body and he felt stronger, calmer, in control of himself.

Imagine that. Talking about your problems actually helps.

“Are you mad?”

He found that while all those emotions had been tamed, yes, he was still angry. But not at her. Never at her. They’d both done something stupid, but that was the essence of what it meant to be teenagers, right? Being stupid and making stupid mistakes. But this could be fixed. He knew it could. He just wasn’t sure how yet. But that was a problem for future him.

For now, he was content to chuckle softly through his nose at her question, “No.” The corner of his mouth pulled up slightly, “I am disappointed though.”

Her arms tightened around his middle and he could almost feel her cringing against his chest before she peaked up at him with her nose scrunched up and a small grin of her own, “You’re right. That is worse.”

[clansayeed]

Bound by Circumstance ― Chapter 22: Cleansing Grimfire

PAIRING: Nik Ryder x trans*M!MC (Taylor Hunter) RATING: Mature

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

⥼ Bound by Circumstance ⥽

Taylor Hunter (MC) has made it good for himself in New Orleans; turns out moving to a new city fresh out of college to reinvent yourself isn’t as hard as people make it out to be. Things only start to get confusing when he finds himself the target of a malevolent wraith. Good thing someone’s looking out for him though — because without Nighthunter Nik Ryder as his bodyguard he definitely won’t survive long in the twisting darkness of the supernatural underworld he’s tripped into.

Bound by Circumstance and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing dramatic retelling project of the book Nightbound and the rest of the Bloodbound series. Find out more [HERE].

Note: Circumstance only loosely follows the events and plotline of Nightbound, and features a separate antagonist, different character motivations, and further worldbuilding.

*Let me know if you would like to be added to the Circumstance/series tag list!

⥼ Chapter Summary ⥽

The Coven Elders deal with the consequences of their actions. Taylor and Elric participate in a father-son activity. The Council takes some responsibility.

[READ IT ON AO3]

The bloodwraith’s neck cranes back at an unnatural angle and it howls to the wind, bloodstained talons reaching out and forward; compelled to attack.

His breath catches in his throat and Taylor squeezes his eyes shut. He braces himself—

For the pain that never comes. The icy grasp of a fate worse than death that he still can only imagine; still must only imagine.

Peeks a tentative eye open to the sight of Cassiopeia’s severed hand stretched out in Vera’s quivering grasp.

A firsthand witness to how the small and humble sparks in Vera’s breast ignite into a blaze that consumes her soul.

“You will not.”

The entire Garden watches in bated awe as the wraith obeys. Hovers back far enough where Taylor can breathe without the scent of rancid flesh in his mouth.

Oh he’s still scared shitless — and rightly so. But just like he can feel the bad things hovering in an aura around them so too can he feel the good.

And the sudden rush of adrenaline, defiance, bravery in Vera is incredible.

The Elders are still together, still united, but their understanding is unmistakable. They know whose hand Vera wields. They realize what has changed with its discovery.

The only thing that hasn’t settled in to their collective hive mind is that it’s over.

“You killed Cassiopeia because she was the necromancer — she was the one in control of whatever creature she summoned and you needed that control to be yours and yours alone. You didn’t realize that you screwed yourselves.”

“‘Cause they were busy screwin’ everyone else,” huffs Nik behind him.

Millet has gone pale, the dark circles under her eyes pronounced against her almost skeletal pallor. “Her body became a totem.” Is that a hint of resignation in her tone? Or maybe just wishful thinking.

“Specifically her hand,” Cadence confirms with a nod, “like the trophies Reimonenq kept in his mortal life. If you had conjured up any random malevolent soul instead of going for sick, twisted irony maybe it would have been different but…”

“But she who holds the Hand holds the power.”

There was a lot about the plan that had been left up in the air. When, or if, the Coven Elders would even arrive. If they would summon the wraith immediately or attack in some other form. If there was even the smallest chance they could be convinced to stop the needless violence; their grab for power stayed in favor of the cooperation that should have happened in the first place.

But the one thing they had all been forced to agree upon was the one thing no one wanted to think about.

They had the totem, now what?

An eye for an eye was the most logical, solved the most problems. But then how were they any better than the Elders?

They may have been forced to agree but that didn’t mean it was without argument.

Cadence had been the last one to exit the underground tomb, his gruesome work finally done. Cassiopeia’s hand had been wrapped in Cal’s flannel and held out between them all as an unholy relic.

It made sense for Nik to take it — for a Nighthunter to be the one to make the final blow whatever that blow may entail.

Instead he held it out to Vera; insisted she take it. “You’re the one who’s suffered the most here. He’s your kin.” And polite Vera, kind Vera; Vera who had been tangled up in this out of fear and a desire to save Kristin and had resigned herself to suffering a curse she could never lift, took the bloodied bundle and made her peace with accepting the burden.

Never said what she planned on doing — it was just assumed she’d send the creature after the Elders; wield the totem the way a hero wields a sword to deal the dragon a final blow.

Maybe it was something Vera didn’t know herself. Couldn’t know until she was in the moment and had to make the choice before hesitation was their undoing.

Well they’re in that moment now. Taylor watches her square her shoulders, her bare hands grasping real flesh for only the second time in her entire life, and knows she’s chosen.

The wind rustles her curls silently as Vera holds out the severed hand in offering to the bloodwraith.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” The words come out of Daniels’ mouth but they don’t sound like her at all — there’s no restraint in her fear now.

Vera doesn’t deign the woman worth an answer. Just watches, waits for the creature to move. But even it doesn’t seem to understand what her intentions are.

Vion sneers — but even that wavers. “Foolish mortal child. If you wish to live you will keep that thing away from its totem.”

“I won’t do it —” —she whips around to Taylor behind her, tears stinging where they well at her eyes— “— I can’t do it, Tay. I can’t kill them.”

She can’t. If she does, she’s no better than they are. She’s the monster her mother is, the monster her ancestor is. Whether it’s true or not it’s how she feels so he feels it too.

“Baby girl if there was ever a time to grow a spine… now’s it.”

Vera stares over his shoulder to her mother’s wavering figure straining down the garden path.

They knew taking her out of the hospital was a necessary evil. She was the wraith’s last true victim. Her presence made some of the uncertainties of the plan less so because they knew it would come to finish what it started. But the fight, rushing her out of the fray; it’s proving to be too much. Ashen-faced and every muscle in her body screaming let me rest but she doesn’t.

Lady Smoke does not run from her enemies.

“Momma…”

Yet even with everything they’ve been through, despite her daughter refusing to leave her hospital bedside, there’s the furrow of command in her hardened face. She looks at Vera in the same way she had back at her club. Not a mother; a mob boss.

“Tonya, don’t —” Katherine tries to stay her advance but she’s shrugged off; hand batted away like a bothersome fly.

“Your whole life you’ve been runnin’ from who you are, Vera Claire. I shouldn’t have indulged it, that’s my sin to bear; lettin’ you make yourself weak. But now there’s lives at stake, includin’ your own. Maybe you still ain’t got the sense to use your gift for me but would you forgive yourself if your weakness killed everyone else?”

Vera can’t believe it. Frankly neither can anyone else. “What — Momma, stop. Why’re you doin’ this now of all times?”

“Because you’ve always been too stubborn to see what needs to be done!”

“No one else needs to die!”

“Then they’ll kill you first!”

“I won’t do it, goddammit —” if Smoke thought scolding her daughter would shame her into acting she has another thing coming, every word pulls Vera back from the murderous edge, “— I won’t be you! I refuse! I refused then and I refuse now!”

Vera’s voice cracks and the dam breaks; tears down her cheeks with the hovering shadow of pure evil behind her and a lifetime of rage and loathing coming out at the wrong moment but it wasn’t she who chose to rip open these old wounds now — so why should she have any mercy, any sympathy for the frail woman who did this to herself.

“We were both here that night. But it went after you — and if you weren’t so obsessed with gettin’ back your damn Touch you’d realize why that is. I won’t do it. I won’t take a life, even like this. I won’t be you — I won’t be a monster.”

And it’s final this time; when she turns away from her mother to face her decision right in the bloodstained face. “Derek Reimonenq was a monster too. I won’t use him and I won’t become him to get what I want. I know there’s another way.”

“You know nothing of the craft,” all of Daniels’ malice shoved into one last push; one last attempt. Her hands twitch at her side but the witch knows better than to act. Acting runs the risk of losing the totem holding the bloodwraith bound — or the wraith itself.

All her power and all the misery she’s orchestrated up to now and she’s reduced to nothing but words. Words that cause Vera to look up at her with pity. The ultimate insult.

Taylor sucks in a breath as she takes a step closer to the creature; can’t help himself even though he trusts her. Trusts she knows what she’s doing and believes in the path she’s taking.

So he has to believe in her, too. Their lives depend on it.

“I know the misery it’s brought. And I know I won’t have a hand in it anymore.” On silent command the bloodwraith opens its ghoulish talons held aloft. And with all of her fear and grief and anger put aside Vera lays the dead witch’s token upon them.

The skin fades sickly pale and bloodless veins spread black and ruinous. A horrific sight not unfamiliar — and Taylor knows in a part of him that’s still tied to the grief of Cassiopeia’s misplaced trust that the unknown magics preserving her body in the tomb lift and allow her to finally rest.

Even accepting the reality that there was a tortured soul powering the bloodwraith like Satan’s battery — he still couldn’t think of it as something with thoughts; something beyond a mindless killing entity. Which probably explains the weird feeling that comes with watching the creature as it looks down at the totem with a curiosity that could almost be called human.

Behind it the Elders close even tighter ranks. He’s not entirely certain they shouldn’t be doing the same.

Then, like all living things the wraith crosses, the hand begins to wither. Flesh pulled taut against skeletal fingers before eating away at itself the way maggots do; reveals the muscles underneath and the tissue between bones until those desiccate too. Until all that’s left are pale off-white bones that fall in little thunk-thunks to the dirt at its… levitating burial wrappings.

Uncertainty hangs over their heads crisp and icy, prickles like needles at Taylor’s skin and tries to choke him from the inside with every breath.

Now what?

The witches strike first. Try to get the jump on the bloodwraith while its back is still turned with three right hands extended and three burning spheres of fire brought together in Daniels’ power and sent hurtling forward.

Like that’ll make a difference.

The blaze collides against the creature’s spine and even manages to set a few tattered edges of it’s billowing wraps alight. But fire is like all things; needs oxygen to breathe and live. And nothing lives that close to the wraith’s existence. Cassiopeia’s hand proved that.

What would have happened if they’d done nothing; if they had fled, or held their breaths and stayed very still? Would they have been spared? Would Reimonenq’s soul take its newfound freedom and flee beyond the Veil?

It doesn’t matter one way or the other. Because they act — they lash out first. So technically there’s nothing against the retaliation coming.

Maybe if they’d kept Cassiopeia alive she could have banished it before the slaughter.

And it is.

The ghastly, gleeful grin Taylor swears he can see twisted back upon its lips will haunt him for some time; whether it’s really there or not.

The bloodwraith makes quick work of the ones who bound it to bone. It may have enjoyed the hunt every other time before but this — this it has been waiting for from the moment it was birthed in blackness and greed. Taking no time to savor their screams.

Not that the Elders go quietly — each new barrage of magic changes the air pressure and makes Taylor’s eyes swim dizzy and confused. They send spell after spell and chant after chant at the bloodwraith’s face, it’s torso, the space between it and the ground. They try to swallow it up with a tear in reality, send blood from their open veins to slake its thirst; things magic might not even be capable of but are made real in those desperate last moments.

As if the universe, the forces Beyond, the things that bind The Fate in rules against intervention give the witches all the power their mortal bodies can hold. In the same way a death row inmate is given a feast for his last meal.

The wraith’s tainted touch is too good for them. Keeps them whole, maybe even alive long enough to continue toying with. It can’t have that.

So it plunges through Millet’s abdomen bodily. Cleaves her in two uneven pieces and the rest of her splattered on the stone wall at her back. The viscera is dark, almost black against the bleach-white bones that emerge like a butterfly that could only come from the mind of H.G. Wells.

Vion’s cloudy eyes are plucked from his skull with veins and nerves snapping like taut strings. His mortal mouth isn’t wide enough to fit the wraith’s claw until it is — but only after flashing the onlookers with the bottom half of the smile he never learned how to give. Like scooping stew out of the pot with knives his organs come out mangled, misshapen.

The smell is awful and Taylor wants to look away but he doesn’t. Forces himself to watch each new torture and indignity those husks are subjected to. Because they are husks now. There’s no way anyone could be alive after that.

Even when he feels Nik’s tension closer than before and a hand inches its way up to the corner of his eye he brushes it aside. “You shouldn’ have to see this,” the Nighthunter whispers. And he’s right. He shouldn’t have to.

But the Coven Elders only have themselves to blame for that. They were the ones who pulled him into the dark and horrible. “I will anyway;” his equally voiceless reply.

And then there’s Elder Daniels. Made to watch the evisceration and mutilation of her kin. The last witches to fall to The Bloody Hand. That’s her fault, too.

It backs her into the Millet-strewn wall but she does not cower. It rakes talons through her throat her gut her four limbs but she does not scream. It hovers in the air over the pile of her it created but she does not look away — eyes brighter in death than they ever were in life.

The hardest part comes after. Waves of nausea and anguish and the taste of blood at the back of his throat that leave him shaking, crying even though he knows there was no other way — that someone had to die. It takes time but the feelings and all their overwhelming wrath do fade.

Belatedly he realizes — the last of the Coven Elders, those tiny wisps of purpose and ill, have left this world.

The fallout of them remains.

The bloodwraith hovers there among its finest work. Takes them in maw dripping blood and tissue stained red and reeking of death and righteous revenge — but still, silent as the grave.

Without tether or ruling hand there is nothing left inside its hollow ribs. Its great work is done.

Elric is the first to speak, voice cracked from exhaustion, and Taylor isn’t the only one who jumps slightly at the broken silence.

“We must destroy the creature before its nature overpowers the echoes of its former self.” Not that he has to tell anyone twice.

“Think it’ll sit still long enough fer us to put it through a woodchipper?” Kristof isn’t joking.

But Elric shakes his head; doesn’t humor even outlandish ideas. “I… do not know.”

Katherine favors her left side as she hobbles close enough for Ryder to prop her up. “We could pursue another necromancer — but the odds of one being close enough to get here in time…”

“An’ I definitely don’ have enough arrows to banish it to the Veil.”

“So we’re fucked?”

“Every passing moment deteriorates its complacency. It will go rabid.”

“If we had the totem —”

“— the Elders would still be alive, so stop lookin’ at me like that mother.”

Through the din of arguments and ideas tossed forward and debunked Taylor sees their guest again. Watches as The Fate holds his gaze then looks out, slow and with purpose. Over the grass and gravel stained black that now shines like glass under the revealing moonlight.

The stars shine much the same but the trails left by Elric and Garrus’ valiant effort in cornering the witches are a different beauty. Something ethereal and as bright as it is dark. Scorched trails of obsidian creating beauty in destruction.

With all the weird and cryptic help they keep giving, he’s gonna need to get The Fate a fruit basket delivered or something.

“Do you have enough strength to do it one more time?”

Elric looks at him with a furrowed confusion — takes a moment to understand before he withers further. “I worry not even Garrus’ aid will be enough to burn the beast. Not alone.”

Taylor’s heart sinks, but Nik catches it before it gets too low.

“So help ‘em out, Rook.”

“Me?”

“You did it before.”

“Yeah but not on purpose.”

“So get Elric to channel it to you again.”

Then his father is at his side with pale palm turned up in offering. “You are not the same person you were then. You may not need my help.”

Everyone’s stopped arguing now; listening intently. Talk about stage fright.

“Yeah I — I don’t think so. The other fae, the ones inside…”

“Not all of us have the touch to do such wonders.”

And isn’t that just great. “Obviously. Why would it ever be easy?”

He throws a look to Garrus, still half-caught in Krom’s arms though looking far less on the verge of unconsciousness. Not that Krom worries over him any less. They catch him looking and their smiles are matched; happy, relieved, sheepish. Makes Taylor have the just-barely resistible urge to shake his head and say “those crazy kids.”

What’s the use arguing at this point?

“Okay. I mean — however I can help.”

Of course the stone troll is reluctant to let Garrus go, takes more than a fair bit of coaxing from Ivy but he does. “I haven’t stretched these muscles in a century,” comes the anticipated complaint, “and now you have me conjuring twice in one evening?” But Garrus doesn’t hesitate as he takes his position back up.

Elric directs Taylor nearest Isadora; doesn’t argue when Nik follows like an extension of him.

“I’ll be okay.” Not that he doesn’t appreciate the support.

“I know —” then, after a beat, “— still. Don’t have to leave you, so I won’t.”

A hush falls with the fae men in their positions. The outcast, the Lord, and the halfling in a triangle around the dormant wraith.

He knows he shouldn’t but that’s never stopped Taylor before. Cautiously reaches out with that feeling inside and tries, more out of curiosity than anything, to search for anything that remains of Reimonenq within its cursed bones.

But he’s just met with a void. Blacker than black — no revenge, no vendetta to carry out; nothing at all.

So he pulls it back… and feels the faint whisper of death like velvet on his cheek.

It’s as ready as they are for all this to be done with.

Not that he was expecting a lesson on a chalkboard or anything — Conjuring Grimfire 101 — but there’s a distinct lack of any kind of instruction that leaves Taylor more than a little lacking. Has him looking back and forth to mirror the men in everything he can see.

One minute the uncertainty is there; building inside of him a threatening mass of the unknown — and then it isn’t.

It’s just gone.

Whatever takes its place—not confidence, not quite—is enough, somehow. He knows it’s enough.

Looking down Taylor isn’t surprised to see wisps of black flame licking at his palms. Both enveloped and not, but not a burn in sight and so so beautiful.

It doesn’t take much. Barely even a gesture but moreso the power to let the grimflames take to the world beyond him.

Taylor, Garrus, Elric — they aren’t three people and three flames anymore. They’re one in the same; send their combined will forward. Rushing, racing on still winds lapping and hissing at one another until they seek home in the only thing they can.

A column of midnight fire erupts towards the sky as the bloodwraith is consumed. The last of its flesh, the tendrils of cloth, the thrice-burned bones engulfed in a fire that bathes the entire garden in light.

Taylor prepares himself — muscle memory — for a stinging wave of heat that never comes. And the sight is as captivating as it is terrible, as magical as it is destructive. Colors without names taking the wraith’s shape within the black — aberrant and awe-some.

Higher and higher the grimfire clamors for the abyss; seeks home in a darkness just as endless. The colors within grow to a blinding brightness as, within, the creature is devoured.

The Council of New Orleans watches as one. Blooded and bruised and alive. Shadows of light in lashes across every face like a ritual of cleansing.

Cadence shoulders the combined weights of Kathy and Cal; holds them up with tears in his eyes.

As Kristof watches, jaw slack, Octavia lumbers up to him with blood-matted fur and noses at his palm, turns a golden gaze up to the place where the fire and the heavens meet. Even Isadora finds herself held captive by the sight.

Vera’s hands cup her elbows, the glowing shadows catching on her curls and every teardrop that collects at her chin. Behind her Tonya stands shrouded in the dark of her daughter’s figure. The only one focused on something else.

But it makes sense. Don’t ask him how but it does. It isn’t just the bloodwraith that is forced to make peace in the fae fire’s glow. It shines on all of them and chases away every shadow left in the chambers of their hearts. Leaves within Taylor a feeling of profound peace; of understanding.

From tip to temple the remnants of the bloodwraith scatter upwards, rainbow embers scattering to every corner of the city — further even.

Upturned palms slowly close with curled-in fingers; Garrus, then Elric. Elric who looks at his son with pride to which nothing can compare. Taylor almost doesn’t want to let it go. Wants to let it build and stay in this beautiful monument to everything… everything.

Instead he closes his hands and snuffs out the light.

The curtains close.

Cade pulls away gasping; covers his mouth with the back of his hand with something akin to shame burned into his red eyes. Katherine gives him time; lets the vampire come back to himself with her bare arm still offered; just in case.

It isn’t lost on Taylor — or anyone, really — that the huntress was content to push half a wine glass of her blood towards Isadora de la Rosa. That the vein was a luxury only Cadence was allowed.

Cadence who holds her arm gingerly as he smears blood from his nicked thumb along the skin and lets it heal.

All around them the Mardi Gras decorations still shimmer with delight. Enticing them to forget their worries and relax; to enjoy themselves in a way they might finally be allowed, now. But the night isn’t done yet. Neither are they, no matter how much they might wish otherwise.

Two ashtrays pass between hands. Inside; a thin layer of blood shared among them like a church sacrament. The unspoken rule — take just enough to heal your wounds, because the likelihood that either vampire was willing to part with more than they could afford was slim.

And he cares about the rest of his friends — he does. He’s glad to see the bruises fading from Kathy’s ribs where her shirt is hitched up; to see Cal testing the motion of his arm where Octavia had helped relocate his shoulder. He’s glad — yet it doesn’t stop him from devoting the majority of his attention to Nik.

“No physical signs of a concussion,” mumbles Cade through his careful examination of the man’s pupils; flashes the mini-light from Taylor’s keys between them just in case, “and as any possible wounds would be internal there isn’t much my blood can do that it wouldn’t have done already.”

But Ryder will only humor them for so long. The frustration is already starting to tick in his brow. “Cool, then will you lay off?”

“Nik —”

“I’m fine Rook, see?” He gestures with arms spread wide and what is that supposed to prove? Can anyone blame him for worrying? Would anyone dare to try?

No, not like this. Not when the events of the night still hang over those gathered like an anvil on a very thin rope. Only when it drops it won’t be for comedic effect.

All they need is someone to cut the cord.

Good thing Nik Ryder has never been one to sugarcoat anything. Or hold his tongue for that matter.

“They weren’t wrong, you know, the Coven Elders.”

Which is so the wrong thing to say and gets a couple hundred pounds of angry sweaty werewolf in his face, growling; “The fuck’d you just say, Ryder?”

Even Isadora’s disapproval isn’t so easily contained. “Poor taste, Nighthunter.”

But he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t waver. Looks Kristof square in the eyes with a matching frown and a set jaw.

“You could ignore it before, but you sure can’t now. Things around here have gotten way outta hand. Each one’a you only cared about what was right under your noses. I ain’t sayin’ they went about it the right way but to walk outta here with nothing changed would be almost just as bad.”

That he doesn’t end up with a broken jaw is surprising on its own. When Kristof actually steps back as if to listen? Well Hell went straight from frozen over to a winter wonderland.

“Continue,” prompts Elric then, since no one else is willing to offer the floor to him. Why would they? Who wants to be told everything they’ve done wrong? Especially when it leads to… well.

“I didn’ think about the state of things until I saw what was goin’ on inside Persephone. Told myself it wasn’t any of my business —”

“— which it is not,” Tonya interrupts, and meets the glare Vera snaps at her with a hard set to her jaw. “Nighthunters have always been a complicated party. No allegiances, no code of conduct but their own. And now this one wishes to dictate to us all of the things we are at fault for as though he stands on some sort of higher ground?”

Vera just shakes her head, dislike rotting into distaste on her tongue.

“Unbelievable. You still don’t think you have any blame to take in any of this.”

“Do you have any idea what I’ve done to keep this city safe?”

“Oh I’m well aware, mother,” the words lash out on the tip of her tongue; make Tonya recoil however slight. “In fact — that, that right there — that’s half the problem here! That’s exactly what Ryder’s talking about. You stand there actin’ like a martyr when all you’ve done—all you’ve really done—is bully, bribe, and threaten your way into power. How long do you think it’ll keep now?”

She’s no longer the woman who went running at the smallest sign of danger. It’s a thing to behold, really.

And Vera isn’t the only one. Even with all of his huffing and puffing Cal steps up and looks Kristof square in the eyes. There’s a set to his jaw and his eye is still a little purple but hell if he’s backing down now.

“Now don’t you go makin’ trouble for yerself, pup,” his kin warns, but what else could he possibly lose that he hasn’t already?

“Anyone who disagrees with you makes trouble.”

“Yeah, and?”

The younger wolf’s joints pop and crack as he cranes his neck from side to side. Both of them rearing to go even after everything.

“That’s no way to lead a pack.”

Kristof snorts through a cherry-red face. “An’ I take it you’ve got a lotta thoughts you been holdin’ in.”

“You could say that.”

“Until you’re an Alpha I don’t think you’ve got much of a say.”

“He may not, but I’ve a few thoughts, cher.”

There’s a very Et tu, Brute? vibe in how Octavia places herself in the familiar space between the argument. Back then and here in the now Octavia remains a voice of reason to compensate for the one her Alpha just doesn’t seem to have been born with.

His nostrils flare. “Tavvy…”

“I ain’t sayin’ the pup’s right, but you an’ I both know he’s got a point. Things have been good for us, Kristof. Good for the pack.”

“Yeah, why the hell d’you think that is?!”

“I’m not sayin’ you ain’t sacrificed to keep us goin’. An’ I’ve backed you up on every single thing to date. But Kristof Jensen so help me if you raise your voice at me again I will whoop your furry behind to kingdom come and that’s a promise.”

The Alpha and his Beta square off, eye to eye. She commands the space around her despite behind several heads shorter than him. Being part of a pack means something deeper than most can understand and it radiates out from them in viscous tension.

He’s an Alpha; he can’t back down. But she’s his partner — so she won’t.

And Cal, who can’t tell if he has the other wolf on his side or just not on Kristof’s, refuses to let himself be pushed out of the conversation.

“Uncle,” one word that snaps all attention back to him, “you picked up the pack when we needed it most. You know they’re grateful — you know I’m grateful —” and there’s something hidden unspoken in Cal’s words, something from before all this but can’t be held back any longer, “— you were the Alpha they needed when I couldn’t be.

“But the pack can’t be more important than the community it’s part of. You can’t pull away from the rest of New Orleans and call it keeping everyone safe. Not when it leads to shit like this.”

There’s so many emotions and reactions twisting on the Alpha’s scarred face; Taylor doesn’t even attempt to reach out to feel them for fear of empathy whiplash.

So he’s just as surprised as everyone — Cal and Octavia included — when the wolf deflates; sags his shoulders and reaches out for the Beta to find a home crooked under the weight of his arm.

“Now ain’t the time to get into the nitty-gritty.”

Before Cal can object, Octavia squares him away with a single glance. Maybe not now, but soon. And that’s more than before, so he’ll take it.

To everyone’s surprise Isadora steps forward with a steely eye.

“My father was no saint. Since inheriting his seat and estate I have come upon a number of… gruesome things; things he was content to keep from me, and no doubt from the rest of the Council.”

If anyone notices the way her eyes flick to Cadence, they don’t mention it. “But I think that is the point Ryder makes; we, this Council, are supposed to be the ones making decisions for the betterment of this proud city. Instead we have burrowed our heads in the sand, contented ourselves with turning a blind eye to one another’s wrongdoings lest our own come to light.

“We cannot continue like this. The Council will not survive it. New Orleans will not survive it.”

Murmurs of agreement echo throughout the foyer; Elric stands.

“We are tired; we are battle-worn. Yet we have ignored our obligations to the city for long enough I think. If we are to be the ones to bring about a positive change then the time to act is now.”

“Now?” asks Tonya in protest, “don’t you think we should postpone this — at least until Mardi Gras has settled?”

Nik drags two stools forward. Taylor takes the hint and he isn’t the only one — Krom and Ivy join him in grabbing chairs and other seats until everyone has a place to get comfortable.

“No time like the present.”

[kyberphilosopher]

Adamus: Chapter Three

“Where there is anger, there is always pain underneath.”

Description: Adamus visited by Circe again, but has started to vehemently reject anything but anger...

Chapter Three

        “You’re sloppy today,” Keres observes.

          I breathe out, pushing my hair out of my face. It’s been parted messily down the middle from all my movement and training, but Keres looks exactly the same. She doesn’t even seem to be out of breath. I’d say it’s infuriating, but somehow I know she’s not doing it on purpose. Her observation isn’t even wrong. I am off today.

          I stand straight, my breathing still heavy as I take note of our height difference. She’s- what? Five five? Five four? I’m at least five ten. Probably closer to six foot. And yet, she’s kicked my ass every single sparring session we have. Keres hasn’t even had any proper training! But her technique, oh it’s flawless.

          There are seven forms of lightsaber combat. I tend to use form three: the one that concentrates more on defense. It works nicely with my stocky build. Keres uses the seventh form: Juyo. The attacks are agile, random, unblockable, precise. Keres could flip through the air, kicking and slashing at the same time and I would have no choice but to take the final blow. I don’t think she knows this, but the form she practices is used by Sith. Jedi are forbidden from learning it, so we can’t properly defend ourselves against it. I have no idea how she learned this, or why. Part of me really wants to ask, but another part tells me that I may not like the answer I receive.

          Keres scans me over for a brief second, then switches off her amber blade. “What are you doing?” I ask, throat slightly dry from exertion. “We got another round don’t we?”

          Keres raises her right eyebrow quickly, then returns it back to it’s normal position. “No. I don’t think so.”

          “Why not?” I inquire, almost offended. I already know the answer of course, but sometimes I like to ask her questions just to know what her answer is.

          “You’re not yourself,” she replies simply. “We’ll just do an extra one tomorrow or something.” Keres turns away, eyes squinting at her lightsabers hilt as her hands dance around it. She sees something on it anyways, and begins vigorously rubbing her thumb over it.

          I wanted to ask her if she felt the need to eat fruit right then and there. All I had to do was say ‘fruit?’ and she would’ve given me a sly smile that doubled as some sort of answer.

          Jedi are forbidden to form attachments. We are made to be peacekeepers, guardians. We have to put our duties first when they are given to us, and feelings are not supposed to hinder that. I don’t know what’s been washing over me ever since I met Keres, then. It’s like some kind of fascination. An insatiable fascination. How can someone be so shrouded in darkness and still be so balanced? She’s so… I don’t know the words. I just know I want to find them.

          “Where did you learn how to do this stuff?” I ask, even though there’s a form of anxiousness growing in the pit of my stomach. Small, but active.

          “What stuff?” Keres responds, eyes flitting to me for a second before detaching her double bladed hilt and placing two separate lightsabers on either side of her hips.

          “How’d you learn how to fight like that?”

          “Oh,” says Keres. “I didn’t learn.”

          My eyebrows scrunch together slightly. “Well then how do you know what to do?”

          Keres shrugs. “I just leave it up to impulses, really. I don’t know. I just know what to do and when. While that’s happening, I’m thinking.”

          “Thinking of what?”

          Keres pauses, like she’s about to say something she’s reconsidering. “Thinking of… nothing.” Liar. “Want to get some fruit?” Yes.

                    I slice my dresser in half with a sharp, cathartic yelp. Even though it’s already destroyed, I don’t stop. I slice again, and again, and again. The dresser is streaked with orange cuts that seem to sizzle from the heat and intensity. Lash marks in warm colors sear into the walls that I’ve grazed. I finally stop for a second, my body shaking with rage and frustration. Then I hack the dresser one more time, followed by a final cut.

          “Maker,” her voice drawls after a few seconds. “So that’s what you’re like when you’re upset. I just always imagined you staring angrily at a wall for fifteen minutes or something.”

          “Shut up,” I hiss. I don’t mean to snap at her, really. I’m just upset at something concerning her.

          “Hey, I’m not even really here,” she says in return. “I’m also not the one who just destroyed an innocent piece of furniture, but alright.”

          I close my eyes, turning my lightsaber off and listening to the hum stop itself. Breathe in, breathe out. Just imagine you’re meditating. Breathe.

          “You’ve got a nice room.”

          Breathe in.

          “What kind of books are those?”

          Breathe out. “Those are Jedi study texts,” I say calmly. I don’t dare turn around to face this… this imposter.

          “The fuck did you get those?”

          Breathe. Breathe, Adamus. “I-”

          “Why are you even talking back to me? How many times have I told you I’m not here?”

          I whip around, ready to yell or something. But she’s right. She’s not there. She never was. I’m sure then that I must be losing my mind.

          I roll my eyes, taking a stupid chance. “Why won’t you tell me what you want from me?” My fingers drum nervously against my lightsaber, like I’m anticipating the worst. I feel so dumb for doing this.

          Then, a voice in the back of my head grows louder. It fills my ears like she’s right behind me, someone’s breathing tickling my shoulder blades. “You never asked.”

          I turn around again. I am met with nothing but air for a second time today, leaving me just as angry and heated as before, if not more.

          I don’t know what time it is. I frankly don’t care. I throw myself down onto my bed and shut my eyes tight. I don’t open them for what must be ten minutes, but I’m still not asleep. That makes me upset, too. Maybe, if I do it right, I can hit myself on the back of the head and make myself pass out. I’m sure Circe would certainly do it. He probably wouldn’t ask any questions about it either. I don’t know if that’s a good or bad thing.

          Go to sleep. I want to sleep. I’m exhausted but I’m not falling asleep.

          Then I fall asleep.

          In my nightmares, I see her again. She is tormenting my every moment- waking or otherwise. Keres refuses to leave me alone. Like she wants to let me know that this is all my fault and she’s going to haunt me until the day I die.

          I don’t even know what the dream is about. All I know is that Keres is there.

          I wake up covered in beads of sweat, on the verge of tears. In the darkness of my room where the only light comes from the blue tunnel of hyperspace, I curl myself up into a ball again. Grabbing my hair, my ears- anything, I try to steady myself.

          Why did she have to die? It was supposed to be me. I was prepared and ready. She knew that. Was she planning to do this? If so, was she planning before I even told her? Was this just an excuse to kill herself?

          A thought pops into my head amidst the agony. A kind of joke. “Now who’s sleeping in a volcano?” I whisper out, mimicking Keres’s sarcastic words. Then I laugh quietly before returning to silent sobs.

          I should never have approached Keres back on Endor. I should have just left her alone.

          I went on a scouting mission to go see the Empire’s base on the Endor system. I had to decided to leave the normal group of soldiers behind to avoid the risk of casualties. If I had to be captured or hurt on the mission, I would prefer it to only be me. It wasn’t until maybe an hour or so of walking that I encountered the smell of something burning. Curious, I followed it to a small alcove, shrouded by long green vines that had covered the entrance. The embers of a fire were still hot and partially smoking, but dead all together. Several golden fish lay limp on the ground, next to a wide, thin net I assumed they were captured in. There was one fish on the fire that had gone completely black and crisp and burned, and was partially in the process of turning to ash. This explained the bitter smell of something burning.

          I could recall learning of certain faunas and natives living on Endor back on Coruscant, so I initially didn’t think much of it. The Ewok’s of the system were likely responsible for this stunt. Later, while I was walking past a glittering river, I thought deeper about it. Ewok’s didn’t dwell in caves. A Gorax, perhaps? No, they stayed in the mountains. They wouldn’t have fit in the cave anyways. It couldn’t have been the work of Dulok’s because they stayed in the swamps. What was going on here?

          I decided to go back inside the cave and try out a new skill I had been practicing- psychometry. The act of reaching out through the force to feel the past of something or someone with an attachment to whatever object you’ve focused on. Fir Aro was gifted in this field, and had attempted to get me into it as well. I had done a bit of it before the Purge, but after I couldn’t bring myself to truly start up again. However, a few days before, I had gone through some old Jedi texts I had found and decided to pick up the ancient art again.

          So, I used it on the net. At first, I felt nothing at all. I remember creasing my eyebrows together in confusion and concentration before trying again. I memorized the little divots in the rope, how easy it would’ve been to get rope burn, the water trapped in all the threads. After a few seconds, I could begin to feel a trace of both something and someone. It was faint, and then suddenly so overwhelming all the air was stolen from my lungs.

          I gasped at the darkness. I could feel anger, hatred, suffering, but no fear. I could feel vengeance, and the sting of sweat and blood hitting my face. I could feel heat from lightsabers coming close to my face. I could feel annoyance and impatience. On top of the negatives, I could feel horrifying things as well. I could feel intelligence like poison and condescendence as sweet as lilies. I could feel the desire of death like a wave and a storm of dark and light flowing through me. The whole image was so unbalanced, the hand on the rope threw itself back and went numb. I knew I had to find this person at once- they had to have been a Sith!           Keres Vagor wasn’t a Sith. She was like a Sith.

          The Sith had a lot of goals and feelings that Keres shared. Self-preservation, distrust, hatred, and the cunning mindset were just some of these commonalities. This wasn’t her fault, and it was incredibly foolish of me to think so. I wish I could tell her I learned my lesson, even though it’s my fault for not telling her all the times I had the chance.

          I don’t know exactly why Keres wasn’t a Sith. I mean, I understood the concept of the rule of two and whatnot, but she had no reason not to align herself with them from my view. They had never done anything to spite her like the Republic and Jedi had. It could’ve been because Keres just never possessed that sick drive for power, or because she simply didn’t care enough to. Was that right? That she didn’t care enough to become a Sith? With all that hatred and guilt, I doubt she would’ve stopped herself simply because she ‘didn’t care’. What held her back?

          I should’ve asked when she was alive.

          Still, I left the cave then in search of this tormented soul. I thought I found them when I saw the man dressed in black robes and a mask. Aegus, he called himself. He was no Sith, I knew that much at least. He was just affiliated with them- an Inquisitor, maybe? No. That wasn’t quite right. Either way, it didn’t matter what he was, because he wasn’t the one I was looking for. Aegus wasn’t the one who could stop a lightsaber with his bare hands, or make dark sided lightning fall out of his fingers and electrocute everything in the area- Keres was. You should’ve seen me when I watched her catch Aegus’s blade in her palm to protect her from death.

          Later, she killed him. I don’t know if it was a mercy kill or not. I only know that it was swift and clean, straight through his chest while he lay on the forest floor. Out of something like fear and disbelief, I immediately fled the scene. In the state she was in, Keres would’ve killed me too if she had noticed me. It was a miracle she hadn’t,  given how powerful she appeared in only the span of a few moments.

          I decided to confront Keres later on. If I could convince her to join us on our mission, or at least kidnap her for information on the Empire (which I couldn’t tell if she was affiliated with or not). I told Circe to be ready to come pick me up after transmitting him the coordinates, and if something went wrong to be prepared to fire.

          The confrontation did not go as smoothly as I’d hoped. I don’t remember exactly what I said to tick the woman off, but I said something that caused her to vehemently attack me. I remember the casual rage in her eyes, the formal realization of ‘I’m fucked’. She was using Juyo with two lightsabers! I wasn’t equipped to fight that. The most I could do was attempt to defend myself with basic, sloppy blocks that kept me on the edge of death. Keres had gotten the upper hand, and if Circe hadn’t intervened, I’m certain she would’ve won the duel.

          After that, I don’t remember exactly how long she was out for.  A few rotations, maybe? Keres stayed in an extra, much smaller medic room outside the main bay, attended to by Aheka who fawned over her for a few hours in the beginning. I would visit her every so often, not really knowing if she was even alive or if Circe had unwittingly killed her. I noticed the mystery girl was sort of pretty when she slept. She had a nicely angled jaw and a cute button nose with little freckles. Despite the darkness under her eyes, her lashes were long and soft and dark brown. Her lips were colored naturally with the slightest flush of pink.

          I should’ve told her she was pretty when she was alive, too.

          “Honestly, I expected I would be dead by now,” her voice calls. I turn my head to the side, catching her frame. She leans against the door way to my private bathroom, her face shrouded to keep me from confirming her identity. “Don’t beat yourself up over it.”

          Without really knowing why, I reply. “How could I not?” I whisper out, staring at the floor. I tug at the skin on my arms, partially wishing that it would break to punish myself.

          She scoffs. “Fine then. Beat yourself up over it. See how much I care.”

          I rock myself comfortingly. I’m going fucking crazy.

          “You know, if you’re going to be such a bitch, you could at least fucking tell me what I should do,” I seethe. I don’t mean to sound so angry. I guess I just have some frustration built up inside of me somewhere, even though I can’t feel it because I’m numb to everything.

          The figure scoffs. “A bitch? That’s a new one. You know, I exist in companionship with your memories of me,” she says. “I’ll give you some advice when you ask properly. I don’t bite.”

          That’s a fucking lie. Keres Vagor- if what I’m seeing even is Keres Vagor- was a biter. She may have been good and full of redemption, but she was also full of poison. She was like a beautiful, toxic plant. She’s like a sharp mountain you’re about to fall to your death from. I could easily imagine her biting me so hard, drops of blood would fall from my lips and neck like snippets of rain.

          I don’t have anything more to say to this… this entity. I’m just going fucking crazy.

          “I feel dead inside too,” the voice says, like a promise. “Dead… outside too, I guess.”

          I want to shrivel up into a ball and stop existing. I want to ware away like a raisin in the sun, or leather over the years. “Will it get better?” I wheeze.

          There’s silence for a few seconds. Even though, she’s not really there, I desperately hate the thought of her leaving. I want that false sense of security she brings me, even if it is just a trick of my brain. She makes me feel safe.

          “Maybe.”

          I turn back to look at her again. I can imagine Keres so clearly. When sunlight hits her, her eyes look almost golden. You can notice the different shades of brown, all blending together in her braid that hangs over her shoulder. Her bony hands and her long, cunning fingers dance against her thigh patiently. Little white scars are illuminated in the yellow glow, like lyrics in a poem. I want to memorize every detail of her, and her story, because it’s trapped onto her skin with every scar and scab and freckle. I know no matter how long I could’ve known her, she wouldn’t have told me everything about her. I would have to find it out for myself, like a puzzle.

          I fall in love with the golden girl, even though the figure I see is shrouded in darkness and fog and just a figment of my imagination.

          A knock on the door takes me from my thoughts. In a flash, Keres vanishes from the room like she wasn’t even there to begin with. Circe walks into the room before I really have the chance to miss her.

          “I’ve been thinking,” he says gruffly. Under his Mandalorian helmet, his voice is lower and more robotic, like it was made to make the person underneath seem more intimidating. Hard to believe I was born on the planet that birthed this. “And I know you haven’t been doing a lot of that lately.”

          My chest feels sore when I make myself talk. “What?” I wheeze tiredly.

          “We’re going to Ilum.”

          I perk up immediately. Something in my stomach sparks, which makes me feel alive. But it doesn’t feel good. I feel even more sick than I did a few seconds ago, and I stand at attention because of it. “What- we can’t go there!”

          Circe shrugs minimally. “Don’t see why not. Look, Keres was born there. You wanna get over it? I say go and accept it.”

          Stupid. That idea, is stupid. I don’t want to go and see Keres’s stuff, or her little hovel. I want her. Her stuff and her hovel isn’t her.

          I decide to take a different approach to begin my argument, however. “What about Aheka?” I ask, a drawl in my voice that reveals how ridiculous I feel this whole thing is. “What am I supposed to tell her?”

          Circe’s hands drop and he shifts. I can’t see his face under his helmet, but I imagine it’s something between disbelief and accusation. Yeah… hazel eyes wide, brows furrowed, nostrils ready to flare. I can see it. “You mean you didn’t tell her? She doesn’t already know?”

          “Of course not.”

          Circe’s hands come to his hips as he puffs his chest out in anger. He looks assertive, and I know exactly what he’s trying to pull here. I can’t remember how many times I’d done the same pose to Keres after she said or did something off color to showcase my disappointment.

          Circe reaches out to connect his palm with my throat. His fingers wrap around it angrily, not even hard enough to hurt me truly. Only enough to make it feel sore and command my attention  roughly. I don’t react much at his angry touch, instead allowing it. I almost welcome it. If he had hurt me, maybe I would’ve felt more alive. Just maybe.

          “What the hell is wrong with you?” Circe seethes. “Huh? Get a grip of yourself!” He shakes me as he says it, strands of hair bouncing against my forehead. “Huh? You think Keres would’ve wanted you to do this?”

          I feel immensely rageful that he would bring up her name. “You wouldn’t do this to her,” I snap.

          “No, I wouldn’t. And you know why? It’s because Keres wouldn’t stew in her room moping all day!”

          I’m able to connect with the force easier than I expected. It swirls around in my fingertips, through my veins and my muscles and my shoulders.  With my right hand emerging palm up, Circe loses his balance and lets go of me. His chest puffs out and he wavers into the air, and when my hand curls into a fist, he slams his back against the wall behind him.

          Some old books of mine fall from the shelf. I don’t care. It serves Circe right for touching me, for touching Keres’s memory. I don’t care how close they were. She deserves to be mourned.

          The armored man pushes himself up. His calloused plans press against the rough floor, and a strained breath can be heard through his helmet. “You’re fucking serious right now?”

          “Shut up,” I warn lowly. “Shut up, or I’ll do it again.”

          With Circe on one knee, he looks up at me. I don’t know what his expression under his mask is, whether it’s disappointed or angry or hurt or confused. I don’t really care enough to guess. All I know is that he crossed a line, and it’s silly to think that I did as well. I didn’t.

          “Right,” he says finally. “Right.” Slowly and carefully, as he should, he puts one boot behind another. Teetering himself so he’s in front of the door, he continues walking backwards until he’s out of the doorway, and into the hallway. I hold his eyes for a long time while he does it, until finally I use the force to push the button to the door, and slide it closed with a buzz.

Taglist: @omg-we-really-doo @chokemeanakin

[thedyingmoon]

💚 See Me Now 💚

***

XII. Drunk

***

Hange was laughing so hard.

So hard, that it was irritating the shit out of Levi.

"Will you shut the fuck up?!" he said through gritted teeth.

"I'm so sorry, I couldn't help it!" she was treating the wounds on his fist, cleaning it and putting a bandage around it. She was readjusting the bandage when she squeezed his broken knuckles by accident.

"Ouch! Fuck! Will you be careful, shitty - eyes?"

Hange was still laughing hysterically. "S-sorry,... Hahaha!"

Levi rolled his eyes.

After what happened in his office earlier, he couldn't go back there, knowing that (F/N) would still be there. And probably still angry at him.

"Anyway, that's what you get for insulting a woman, Levi."

"What did you say?"

Hange finally let go of his hand and took away her medicinal kit. He couldn't go to the infirmary to get his injury checked, for the nurse might get suspicious on how he actually got his wounds. His secret might be revealed, then. So, he had no other choice but to go to Hange's office to have it treated. He was actually quite regretting the decision he made to have the mad scientist treat him a few minutes later after telling her everything that happened between him and (F/N) an hour ago.

And she was still laughing like mad at him.

I swear, if I get my strength back,...

"What I mean to say is that we women are kind and patient. Just don't test our kindness and patience or even make us mad. You will surely regret it if you do. (F/N) is no exception to that. That's what you get for making her mad."

Levi looked at her and finally decided to ask her the one question he dreaded so much. "Is she always like that? That girl?"

"(F/N)? What do you mean by that?"

Levi looked away, embarrassed. No other female in his life has given him a total backlash of insults like what (F/N) did, not even Mikasa. The gloomy brat would just glare at him with murderous intent for ordering Eren around, but that's about it.

(F/N), on the other hand, may be timid and obedient. But, damn, the wrath she displayed,...

...she was even creepier than Mikasa, herself.

"What I mean to say is, does she always get angry like that? I mean, she's your subordinate, and all, you must've known her for quite a long time."

Hange smiled. It was actually the first time that he asked her about (F/N).

Levi,... seemed to have learned his lesson, she thought. But, that injury! If he didn't infuriate (F/N) in the first place, it would surely not get this bad.

"I've known (F/N) for almost two months, yes." she stood up and went to her desk to fetch herself some sweet treats. "She's a very quiet and shy person. As you may have witnessed, yes, she's weak compared to other girls here. But, she more than makes up for it with hard work and dedication to her job, which are the two things that others lack in this line of profession." She went back to the pink sofa where Levi was currently sitting and offered him a treat. He shook his head in refusal and she just plopped back down beside him, eating the treat she offered him. "But, you know, it was actually the first time I've heard her act like that. Considering the fact that, well,..."

Hange was hesitating but, Levi knew exactly what she was being hesitant about.

"I heard you, you know." he said. "That day when,..."

Hange looked at him and immediately realized what he was talking about. "Oh. So, you really heard us?"

He nodded. "Was it true, though? Does (L/N) like me?"

The scientist grinned at him. "What kind of a question is that? Of course, she does! Frankly speaking, after what you did to her, I strongly opposed her attraction towards you. I mean, come on, you know what I'm talking about. You keep pushing her away, and she knows it. And yet,... I don't know if she's just plain obsessed with you, or she just had a deep reason for hanging around you long enough until this,..."

The man absorbed all this, not making any objections of some sort. He was actually used to hearing stories about numerous girls who adore him to the point of obsession. But, he somehow felt that (F/N) was different. He knew it from the first time he met her.

"Those stories I heard from her batch, that she seduced her way to the Trainee Corps and that she was always referred to as a slut because of it, it honestly affected how I see her as a person. I thought that she even had you, Erwin and the others from your Squad bewitched because you all seem to give her special treatment. Particularly you. And Erwin."

Hange made an effort to keep her mouth shut. They were under the orders of the former Scouting Legion Commander to keep their mouths shut regarding the true reason of (F/N)'s presence in the group. They may have blundered one of his orders, but this time, Hange would not fail.

Levi,... must never know about it.

"Why? Doesn't she deserve it? She's willing to learn as a Scout, and we're doing the best we can to educate her. It's the best we can do for someone as dedicated and selfless as her. You, Levi, will never understand it, since you have not the slightest idea of her abilities, its possible worth to us,... or even her past, for that matter."

And that's just scratching the whole truth.

Levi crossed his arms. He was fully aware that Hange was not telling her the whole thing. "Her past?"

"Yeah."

"And what about her past?"

"Not telling."

Levi clicked his tongue, stood up and opened the door. "Thanks." he simply said and left her office.

If Hange would not tell him, he would find a way to know it, himself.

******

Erwin knocked for the third time at the door.

"Please, come in." a little female voice finally said.

Erwin entered and what greeted him inside awed him. Levi's office,... was so clean and tidy that he could even go to sleep on the floor without getting even a speck of dirt in his person.

But, where could Levi be?

"Here are the next documents to be filled out." he handed it to the girl, who was still wearing her cleaning outfit. She took it and put it on the desk. He noticed Levi's gear there. And he was a hundred percent sure that it has never looked that shiny before.

(F/N) felt guilty after what she did to Levi. A part of her was telling her that the awful man deserved it, and a part of her was crying out loud to her, regretting her impulsive actions. Levi is sick. He was probably only acting like that because he badly wanted to have his strength back, plus he was getting more and more frustrated because he could no longer do the things he normally does. Like cleaning.

I should've been more patient to him. This is all my fault!

Erwin felt the girl's unusual silence and decided to know the reason behind it. "(F/N), where is Levi?"

The girl looked as though she was about to cry. His suspicions were right on. "Did he do something to you?"

(F/N) shook her head. "N-no,... he didn't."

Erwin smiled at her. He could simply ask someone to deliver the documents to her. He,... just wanted to see her.

"Then,..."

"Commander?"

"Yes, (F/N)?"

She was still not used to the Commander calling her by her given name. "I've been meaning to ask you, what is Captain's favorite beverage?"

What - ? "Sorry?"

"W-well, ah, do you know if he prefers something? I mean, he doesn't like coffee, or hot cocoa,..."

Erwin sighed. Of course, she still has feelings for Levi.

He, on the other hand, must not let his emotions get in the way of Shadis' plans for her in the Legion.

"It's,..."

******

(F/N) slowly entered the quiet and dark mess hall, the cup of warm black tea in her hand. She was certain she could find him here, for after all, he hasn't had anything to eat, yet.

It was past eight in the evening. She perfectly knew that the Scouts, if not all of them, were already in bed. She knew that he would not hesitate to eat here, since no one would see him.

And she was right. Right there, in the middle of the room with only a single candle for a light, was the Captain, himself, drinking booze. And not just booze; the girl noticed that there were three different bottles of wine at the table, all empty.

He'll be fine, right? After all, it was rumored that the Captain never gets drunk. Right?

"Captain? Captain Levi?" she called. No answer. His back was turned against her. She slowly made her way towards the offended Captain, ready to atone for hurting him. "Look, I understand how hard it is for you, Captain. And I'm truly sorry for what I've done to you. I should've been more patient. But, you have to remain hopeful for yourself. I'm pretty sure that you'll get your strength back. I'll never leave your side until then. So, will you forgive me?"

Levi didn't say anything. She was about to place the cup of tea on the table when he suddenly grabbed her hand.

"Captain!" (F/N) said, but it was no use. Levi pulled her and brought her down on the table, the tea spilling and the cup shattering on the floor. The man placed his knee between her legs and brought his lips to her ear. His mouth reeked of booze. "Captain, please,..."

"Petra,..." he said. The girl's eyes widened. "I want you,..."

What,...?

"Captain, I'm not Petra. I'm (F/N),..."

Levi suddenly bit her neck. It would surely leave a mark there. "Please, sweetheart. I want to make love to you. Just like the old times,..."

Just like the old times,...

Levi groped (F/N)'s chest and rubbed his knee on her soft spot. "Please, Petra, I want you so much,..."

Fire suddenly raged inside (F/N)'s head. She forcefully pushed Levi away. He landed pitifully on the ground with an ugly thud.

"Ow! What the - "

Levi was stunned. In his drunken state, he was only aware that his beloved Petra was refusing him. So, is it true? Is she really cheating on him?

(F/N), on the other hand, was feeling different kinds of emotions, all at the same time.

Levi stood and tried to tackle Petra once more. "Why are you being such a bitch tonight, Petra? I said, I want you! Don't you want me anymore?" he whined.

(F/N)'s brows shut up to her hairline. "I'm. Not. Petra!"

"Petra,..."

Levi went for the hug,...

...and was met by (F/N)'s hardened fist.

The man fell unconscious on the floor, knocked out by the girl's powerful punch.

******

A/N: Okay. To tell the truth, I removed the last line because I was laughing too hard on it. Anyone who wanted to know the last line, just let me know. 😅👍👍👌

~ @levi4mikasa , @yepps , @clovemcpandas , @shewolfofficial , @unhappysap , and @shortbty14 . 💚

***

💚💚💚

***

[sarehime]

MIGHT COMES FROM THE HEARTS CHAPTER 11

Eden breathed deeply when they finally reached the Werewolves land. They began here...

Firstly they encountered the werewolves warriors and Kentas. Ignes wasn't here and Kentas looked very terrible. It was clear that he got a beating by other warriors. 

"We have searched for you," said one of werewolf warrior. Muzaka gave a look at the warrior insulting and theni shot a glance at others.

"All of you... changed," said Muzaka angrily.

Eden and Raizel was back side of Muzaka and Lunark went to her friend's side immediately. She picked up him and stayed in front of him protectively. Eden glanced at them for a while and she turned to Muzaka again. She stepped for go to Muzaka's side but Raizel hold her arm suddenly. She didn't expect it clearly. She looked at Raizel's hand that hold her arm and then she glanced up to Raizel. He didn't say anything and glanced at her eyes instead a explanation but Eden, in a way, understand him. It was a matter of werewolves and it shouldn't concerned her. She wanted to help to Muzaka but she also knew her redlines too. They were a family and they should solved their problem without interference a foreign. She glanced at Lunark and Kentas, again. They were a family right? She nodded slightly and Raizel let go of her arm after that. Eden didn't interfene but without there is an emergency. If there was a danger that involving Muzaka, then no one could stop her. Muzaka was under her protection after all, and no one could dare lay a finger on him. But she had a bad feeling about it, a bad thing came, she didn't know what is but she felt it in her bones. 

When Lord Muzaka turned towards to Kentas and ask him where Leo is, she recovered herself immediately and directed her attention to Muzaka. 

"What happened the boy who was brought here with you?" 

"I had escaped with him but that Noble named Ignes returned him to lab again. I am sorry, I couldn't save him." Eden clenched her teeth with rage. She saved by her father at our last meet, now who can save her from my rage? Seraphiel hissed this words in her mind. She closed her eyes. She wanted to save Leo from her but... She couldn't stay away from Lord Muzaka for so long. Also, he had a family right now, and they were in here for him. And what was she for him? She narrowed her eyes at this thought. Really what was she for him? She used to call her as brother but which little brother separated from their sisters? And she worked for Crombel, his enemy... How can she called herself as his family? She even couldn't able to save him because of her duty. We won't deal with Lady Ignes, Seraphiel. What? Why? She is a big problem, Eden! Please Seraphiel, I have to focus on Lord Muzaka. Don't make ir difficulties for me. Seraphiel didn't say anything after that.

"Where exactly is the lab?" Lord Muzaka asked. When Kentas told where it is, Lord Muzaka turned to Raizel. "I think we should separate from here, Raizel." Raizel nodden in response to and headed to where the lab is but he was stopped by a werewolf warrior. 

"Hey where you think you are going?" the poor warrior asked him maliciously smirking but Raizel run out of patience and time. He drew out the warrior in his way without touch and leaved from there. While the warrior writhed on ground, Eden looked at him disgustingly. 

"Lunark and Kentas, you two always make a stupid choice, right?" said one of warrior. "Choose a tratior instead of our Lord!" Eden frowned at this words but she stayed calm. They bullshitted obviously. They are just a bug, nothing much... 

"Eden," Lord Muzaka called her name without looking. Eden looked at him wonderingly.

"Yes, sir?" 

"While I get here, I feel someone presence that is important for me. He fight with Frankenstein, right now. I want to you save him from Frankenstein. You can feel them as well, right? His name is Dorant. Please do this for me. Leave others to me, and go to there. Please." She opened her mouth for reject but then she understood that he must be very important being for him, as far as he asked her help. 

"As you wish, Lord. Please be careful." Then she turned to Lunark. "Please protect him, Lady Lunark. I trust you." There is no harm that asked extra help.  Lunark blushed at this words and turned her head away from her. 

"Hımph, of course I protect him," she said. Eden smiled and then headed for where she should go.

While she got on, she had Muzaka in her mind. There was nothing to worry about actually. Lord Muzaka could take them easily, Lady Lunark was by his side as well. She should just left things to them. She sighed. 

When she reached her place of arrival, the fight still kept going as long as she can see. Frankenstein wrapped by a weird, purple thing and he holds shapeless weapons in his two hand. One of the weapons color was and other was red as well and frankly he seemed to go mad. By the look of it, she sould just butted in the fight. She drew a sigh deeply. Eden, leave it to me. No need. I can deal with it.

Frankenstein shot his bolt with his weapons. He gathered his all strenght and flung his weapons to him with a great power. Dorant widened his eyes surprisingly. How a mere human could powerful like that? Just short time ago, he lied on the ground unconciously. He was a monster, Dorant thought, while he wantched the power that come to him mercilessly. There was no way that he can run away. He couldn't move his legs and then, he just closed his eyes and use his arms as a shield. The power bursted with a crash and the ground under his feets was shaken... Actually he expected a pain first but there was no pain. What happened? The human missed the target? When he lowered his arms, he saw the reason and widened his eyes surprisingly. Who is that girl? he thought wonderingly...

Frankenstein glanced at the dust cloud with a sigh. Done, he though. Finally. He should accepted, the warrior was a tough nut to crack and experienced. He was really a werewolf warrior. Alas, he have to dead like that. But his thought changed immediately when he saw the scene. The dust clous was scattered and he had come face to face with Eden, Dorant was behind her. When the truth hit him, he frowned deeply in a rage. Eden protected him. Why? And he wanted to learn the reason immediately! 

"What the meaning of this?" he hissed to her...

[mtvswatches]

Wynonna Earp 1x09 Bury Me with My Guns On

Wynonna Earp 1x07 Walkin’ After Midnight

Spoilers disclaimer (please read before sending messages or writing comments.)

Click here for previous recaps!

Stray thoughts

1) Oh, wow…

This definitely reminded me of this…

2) “She is also a distraction I cannot afford right now.” Too late, Doc, you’re officially distracted…

#swoon

3) This is exactly what happened and I cannot be convinced otherwise…

But in all seriousness, it’s quite interesting how Wynonna finds herself chasing any kind of feeling now that she’s done with the rage and revenge. The problem is, no matter how many revenants she puts down, she’s never going to get her family back and she’ll never get the forgiveness she so desperately craves. She needs to come to terms with these facts, and she needs to find a new purpose now.

I also find it interesting how she doesn’t find it hard to open up to Doc. For someone who’s quite closed-off and who puts up all these walls, she opens herself up rather quickly with the people she cares about.

4) Holy shit, she’s not messing around…

5) Oooh, this is gonna be like “When She Was Bad”, right?

6) Wynonna is going to be psychoanalyzed on the day she decides to go bad. This should be interesting.

7) Man, this girl is all tough and shit but she definitely wears her heart on her sleeve…

DOLLS: We need to be careful, alright? You're not even a real deputy, Earp, come on.

WYNONNA: No. I'm just the one with the big-ass gun who sends the fiends of Hell to their deaths.

DOLLS: Technically, it's not the gun that kills them, it's…

WYNONNA: Oh my God! You stupid government lackey, you left me in there with a bureaucratic sadist and I was alone and scared.

DOLLS: You're not alone, Earp.

WYNONNA: Or a murderer.

DOLLS: Okay.

WYNONNA: Just once, I want you to say it. That you care about me. Pussy.

It’s kind of refreshing to see this type of portrayal of women, you know? She’s hard as nails but she’s also not afraid to express her feelings and show her vulnerability to others, and that doesn’t make her any less of a badass. You can be both, what do you know?

And not only did Dolls not tell her that he cares about her, but he also took away her badge. Uncool.

8) Oh, that’s a big promise, Wynonna…

That’s like calling bad luck, is all I’m saying.

9) OMG…

She made this poor dude piss himself. Guess the Bad Girl thing is already backfiring.

10) She finally got her way…

11)

What is Drek, other than the witch’s baby/son? Is he a Revenant or is he something else altogether? I’m thinking he’s something else. And what does she mean when she says they “will be gods”? All I can think of is she wants to sing in the meadows…

12) “Lord, girl, you need to blow off that steam.” Please tell me he’s going to bang off the steam out of her. Pretty please?

13) SWEET LORD JEBUS, PRAYER WORKS!

14) So… the Sheriff dismissed Nicole’s report of what she had experienced herself by defining “Purgatory” as quirky. Riiiight. But then, he picked up her report from the trash. So, he’s either waking up and starting to believe there are supernatural forces at work here, or he is the Sheriff because he’s been in the know and assigned precisely to dismiss any type of supernatural claims – a la Snyder in BTVS. Either way, I think it will be an interesting turn of events.

15) They are having two completely different conversations, and I love it…

NICOLE: Um, can we talk?

WAVERLY: Yeah.Yeah. God, we're totally overdue.

NICOLE: I'm not I'm not crazy, right? There's something going on here.

WAVERLY: No. You're not crazy.

NICOLE: Okay.

WAVERLY: I'm not sure I'm ready to get into it.

NICOLE: Why?

WAVERLY: Because it's different for me, right? And it's really personal.

NICOLE: But it's personal for everybody, right? I mean, they must know. People must whisper about it.

WAVERLY: My God, I hope not! No, I kind of only just discovered it. When I met you.

NICOLE: Me?

WAVERLY: Yeah. You're kinda special.

NICOLE: Okay, maybe a little bit more open- minded, but it's not like I have some mystical gift  or something.

WAVERLY: No, I get it. You're a lesbian, not a unicorn, right?

NICOLE: What?

WAVERLY: What?

“You’re a lesbian, not a unicorn” is such an iconic line. Also, there’s no reason you can’t be both, what do you know?

16) I still don’t know what Bobo is looking for, but I guess that’s it for Drek and his brother...

I’m guessing the reason Drek burned to death is that the Stone Witch used one of his brother’s bones to build him up, right? And who was Drek’s father? I wonder if we’ll meet him…

But I keep coming back to this question – what is Bobo after? What is this “lead” the witch promised him?

17) *heart eyes* *fans self*

18) So Doc still wants to kill the witch, even though he now knows it will probably kill him, too. But Wynonna is having none of it…

Get it, boy? She doesn’t want you to die, she wants to keep you around.

19) Why didn’t Wynonna run after Doc? He couldn’t have run that far away in 5 seconds…

20) I really enjoyed the whole conversation between the Sheriff – Randy – and Dolls. I think Dolls is a bit arrogant and he underestimates how useful Randy could be. I also liked how Randy admitted that he figured out the real reason Dolls had set up shop in Purgatory a long time ago, but he’d chosen to turn a blind eye because it didn’t really affect him and he strikes me as the type of guy who just wants to do his job, go home and have a beer. But now his own deputies – and friends – are getting hurt because of all the weird shit that’s been going on in Purgatory, and he won’t have that. So he’s decided to get involved.

Now, I’m not saying that he’s not honest about his intentions, because I’ve totally bought his whole “let’s work together” spiel. But I’m not dismissing but my other theory just yet. There’s still that guy who was a judge or something who had the picture of the seven, so the Sheriff could still be playing lackey to the higher-ups.

21) Waverly just told Nicole that maybe they can be just friends, and I’m like…

22) I LOVE HER…

23) Um, no, I don’t like this!

What the hell is going on? Is this some “I’ll fight my own battles” macho bullshit? Because I expect better than that from Doc. Or is it simply because he doesn’t want her to interfere with him killing the witch?

24) Can… Bobo smell that Doc and Wynonna had sex? That’s so creepy.

25) It’s really smart how Doc put Bobo into a no-win situation. He had to either let Doc go with the Witch or show his minions he wasn’t a man of his word, which would probably turn into a revolt against him. So he obviously chose the lesser of two evils.

26) What does Bobo mean by “I have a very special surprise for you”? What the fuck is he going to do?

27) I really like how supportive Gus is of Waverly, encouraging her to live her own life like she wants and with whom she wants, but I still don’t understand why she would sell the bar? And I’m afraid Bobo’s going to be the new owner. Is that his surprise for Wynonna?

28) Well, considering one of his minions just showed up at Shorty’s asking for Wynonna, I’m guessing that’s going to be the case.

29) I don’t like this…

WYNONNA: Who won't you make a deal with, huh? First a witch, then the Devil himself. You're nothing like… You're just nothing.

DOC: You can judge me all you want. What do I care for some broken woman's evaluation of my character?

There’s so much subtext here is overwhelming. First, there’s Wynonna unfinished line “you’re nothing like...” I think she was going to say something along the lines of “you’re nothing like I thought you’d be.” But that would’ve shown vulnerability at a moment when she didn’t feel Doc deserved it. So she hits him where she knows it will hurt him most. And he pays her back in kind by calling her a “broken woman.” But we know he’s not indifferent to Wynonna’s judgment of his character. On the contrary, it affects him greatly. He’s just probably trying to convince himself otherwise.

30) How many times are they going to point guns at each other in one fucking episode?!

31) So we finally know something about the origin of the Earp curse…

WYNONNA: Tell me about the Earp Curse.

CLOOTIE: The details are hazy, as that was my demon husband. Revenge for the death of our boys. Direct and manly and, quite frankly, boring.

WYNONNA: Not the first word I'd use.

CLOOTIE: Us girls like to take vindictiveness to the next level, don't we, Wynonna? And I wanted my own revenge on Wyatt, so I went after what Wyatt loved most. His best friend.

DOC: You're a liar.

CLOOTIE: I threw it a few juicy morsels like "health" and "longevity," and you were mine.

DOC: You tricked me.

CLOOTIE: When Wyatt found you buried in a whore's muff instead of underground, when he learned of our deal, his heart broke in two. Then I threw you down a well, so that even if Wyatt softened, came looking for you…

DOC: Did he?

CLOOTIE: And you got to spend decades in the dark, knowing your best friend despised you. John Henry. This whole time, you thought it was personal, but it's always been about the alpha dog.

DOC: You shut your lyin' mouth.

CLOOTIE: You're a good sidekick, dear "Doc," but you'll never be a hero. A perpetual second choice. But in the end, everyone chooses the lawman. Everyone.

So the Earp curse and Doc’s curse were two sides of the same coin, one cast by the witch’s husband and the other by the witch herself.

What I find the most interesting, though, is the fact that Doc was Wyatt’s Achilles heel. What did she mean when she said that Doc was what Wyatt loved most? I can’t help but feel gay undertones in that. I mean, why else would Wyatt be so hurt to find Doc buried in a “whore’s muff”? Were they ever romantically involved? I’m going with this theory and I love it.

Also, why did she look pointedly at Wynonna when she said that “in the end, everyone chooses the lawman”? Does this mean Wynonna will choose Dolls over Doc at some point? Because I don’t want that!

32) I love how Wynonna used their previous conversation to talk Doc out of killing the witch right then and there.

33) OMG they’re going to bury her in salt flats!

34) Yes!

WAVERLY: I've always wanted to do things that scared me. But, well, it's not so easy to be brazen when the thing that you want, that scares you to death, is sitting right in front of you. NICOLE: I scare you? WAVERLY:  Yes. Yes, you do. Because I don't wanna be friends. When I think about what I wanna do most in this world it's you. Oh God, that sounded so much more romantic in my head. Just jump in any time, Nicole, because I really, really don't know how to do this. NICOLE: Oh, sure you do. WAVERLY: Maybe I should just stop talking. NICOLE: See, you're getting better at this already. WAVERLY: Maybe you should stop talking too. NICOLE: Maybe you should make me.

I knew they would become a thing, but I really wasn’t expecting to feel so much for them? They’re super sweet together but also super hot, and I definitely got all tingly inside watching them.

35) So… we still don’t know what “the lead” is. We know what it is for, but we don’t what – or who? – it is. But I fear what Bobo might be able to do if he can break himself from the triangle and from Wynonna’s curse…

I really don’t know why they didn’t bury her completely. Oh, wait, is it because if they did, she would die and therefore Doc would die? Yes, that’s probably it.

36) Wynonna basically just asked Doc on a date, and I’m here for it.

37) So, Dolls faked a report of Wynonna passing the deputy exam or something.

38) Called it!

39) I guess that whole “no one’s ever taking anything from us again” thing instantly backfired, huh? What a packed episode, and there are only a few left in the season! I can’t wait where this all leads up to!

40) Hope you enjoyed my recap, and, as usual, if you’ve got this far, thank you for reading! If you enjoy my recaps and my blog, please consider supporting it on ko-fi.Thanks!

[southside-vixen]

Fire and Ice (Sweet Pea) 5

Chapter 5. Red Spray Paint

AO3

Adrianna Rivera has just made a difficult move from Arizona to the southside of Riverdale. With the history of her life in Phoenix behind her will she be able to find a new family in the Southside Serpents? Or will a certain tall, dark, and rage inducing Serpent cause issues?

A few days had passed and thankfully things finally started to quiet down. School was finally starting to return to normal and Adria still hadn’t heard a thing from her father. It was discouraging to say the least. Thoughts raced through her head ranging from ‘maybe he’s just getting released soon’ to ‘maybe someone placed a hit on him and I’m the last to hear he died from a shiv to the gut’

She couldn’t focus on anything, not like that was out of the norm lately. She was stressed to the point where her morning runs weren’t helping, she couldn’t stomach eating most times, and she would return after school to watch old reruns of telenovelas. Ness was worried to say the least, but despite all the distractions she could think of nothing seemed to help. She knew nothing would improve until Adria heard from the person she needed to most.

Ness placed a heaping plate of tamales in the center of the table, smiling at her own work. It had been ages since she last made a meal at home as she hated cooking for one. When Adria came to live with her it just became easier to order takeout. Seeing her niece depressed for the few days was making her desperate enough to cook and she figured what better than to try to make an old favorite. Tamales.

“Dinner’s ready” She called out to the living room. Adria quietly pulled herself off the couch and placed herself at the dinner table. Her eyes widened when she caught a glimpse of the giant stack on the table.

“You took a break from your cooking hiatus to make tamales?” Adria stacked a few onto her plate “Very ambitious.”

“I think I did pretty well. I followed a blog about Mexican cooking. It’s a good read”

Adria’s face lit up for the first time in days and it was enough to make Ness’ heart swell. She watched as her niece took the first bite, and her face immediately fell.

“Oh wow. It’s great, Ness.” Adria tried to choke down the rest of her bite. It was absolutely terrible. She wasn’t sure if she even soaked the corn husks before steaming them. Ness followed her lead and immediately spat the bite back out

“This is awful. Wow.” She broke down laughing “I guess this is what I get for not cooking for years. Don’t eat that, I’m gonna order pizza.” Ness took her plate and immediately scrapped the contents into the garbage.

“Thanks, Aunt Ness.” Adria got out of her chair and helped her aunt clean up the mess “The thought really means a lot. Also, Maria’s cooking is a tough act to follow so don’t feel bad.” Her father had the same cook since she was a child. Maria was basically family. It was another thing she missed so much from Phoenix. She never gave it a second thought until now, but she didn’t want to know how many people lost their jobs when her father was carted off to prison.

The mess didn’t take long to clean and soon both were munching on slices of pizza, watching Halloween. Adria had her eyes glued to the screen as Judith watched her boyfriend leave her home, not knowing that her murderer was already in the house. The tension was building as Judith turned around to see-

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP

Adria screamed and jumped nearly a foot into the air before she picked up her phone. The caller display read ‘UNKNOWN’

“Can you press pause? I need to take this” Adria asked, feeling her heart rate starting to return to normal levels.

“Yeah of course, I’ve already seen this like five times.” Ness smiled, shooing the younger girl off

Adria returned to her room and shut the door behind her. She glanced at the screen once more before accepting the call “Hello?”

“Hola mija “her father’s voice came through the speaker and it was like the clouds finally cleared.

“Papá!” She nearly yelled “Where have you been? It’s been weeks.”

“Talking to my lawyers. I can’t say much more than that but I wanted to call you sooner.”

“Are you getting out? Please tell me you are. Aunt Ness tried to make tamales tonight and it just reminded me of how much I miss home.”

The line went quiet for half a minute before Alejandro replied “I wish I could say I was. My lawyers are doing all they can but…it’s not looking good.”

Adria tried to process it as best as she could but it just didn’t make sense. Her family’s lawyers were the best money could buy, there was nothing they weren’t able to do.

“But Papi…” Adria pleaded, hearing a chuckle from the other end of the line

“Papi or no, Mija. I promise you I will be out by your 17th birthday. I’ll even get you a new McLaren to replace the one they seized.”

Adria smiled to herself “Better be the Spider. You know I like to go fast” Maybe a little too fast, it was a good thing none of her speeding tickets ever stuck.

“I do not need to hear that” her father laughed again “You’re nearly a grown woman and I’m missing so much. Tell me about your biker aunt and her home town.” Adria rolled her eyes

“Aunt Ness is great, Papá. She even tried to make tamales tonight to make me feel better. They were terrible but the thought was there. School’s…terrible but its school. I’m making friends! We even have movie nights. They somehow roped me into watching terrible quality old films.”

“Who are you and what have you done with my daughter? The Adrianna I know would never tell me ‘it’s the thought that counts’. As much as I hate to admit it this seems to have been a good choice for you. Although I know your tíos would have loved to have you in my absence.”

There was a small series of beeps on the other end

“Unfortunately, Mija that’s my time. Te quiero. You’re growing into a strong woman and I couldn’t be more proud.”

“Te quiero, Papá”

Just like that, the line went dead. Adria placed her phone down on the night stand and flopped onto her bed. Every time her feeling of homesickness seemed to disappear it would come back with a vengeance.

“Fuck everything” She whispered to herself, staring at the ceiling.

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

The next day life went on as usual. She rode with Fangs to school, suffered through her classes, and sat down with the Serpents at lunch. When she sat down, no one even paid attention. Which was always a relief. This time, however, Sweet Pea had placed a laptop in front of them. One that was covered in duct tape. Classy.

“Ads, you’re here” Toni smiled “You’ve got to see this, the Northside’s gone crazy and now they’re making snuff films.”

“What?” Adria scooched over to Toni and glanced over her shoulder to watch some red head with an army of well-built shirtless guys behind him. Talking about some Black Hood and how they’re going to take him down.

“Snuff film?” She looked at Toni “This looks like the start to a really weird porno.”

“Hey guys.” Jughead walked up and stopped apprehensively “I guess we’re not watching funny cat videos”

Sweet Pea turned the laptop around to show him and pressed play

“We were just talking about how Fangs can earn his Serpent stripes by bringing us the head of the Northsider that posted this” he gave Fangs a pat on the back as he smirked at Jughead, as if he knew this would get a rise out of him.

“Don’t” Jughead sighed “I know this guy. He’s a football player, kind of a lame target is you ask me.” Just like that his demeanor altered “If you want to prove something, you go after the black hood”

Adria saw Toni’s eyes narrow out of the corner of her eye as Sweet Pea spoke up again

“Why would we do that? The Black Hood is only targeting Northsiders”

‘Thank God for that’ Adria thought

“As far as we’re concerned the Black Hood is doing our work for us. They’ve been blaming us for their problems for years. We’re sick of it.” Sweet Pea finished

Jughead sighed in defeat and walked off, leaving the table in a brief silence.

“Are you sure we need him here?” Sweet Pea scoffed “He’s less of a Southsider than Princess over here.”

Adria rolled her eyes.

“Not only is he blood, he’s FP’s blood. He’s one of us whether you like it or not.” Toni said “As for Adria she’s already proven herself to everyone but it seems like you didn’t get the memo.”

“Yeah. Let’s not talk about that night ever again.” Adria forced a smile, although it probably looked more like a grimace.

“Finally, something we agree on.” Sweet Pea locked eyes with her, as if daring her to say something. For once she didn’t rise to the bait.

“Shut the hell up, Sweet Pea” Toni groaned “No one’s in the mood.”

Thankfully the bell rang and released her from her what could have easily turned into her own personal hell. Adria watched as everyone picked up their bags and slowly started meandering toward their next class.

“Thanks, Toni.” Adria said as most everyone had cleared out of the cafeteria

“No problem. He’s being a huge douche and frankly I think everyone is over his shit now.” She put a hand on Adria’s shoulder “You’re one of us and everyone else thinks so. Ignore the idiot.”

Adria laughed “That really does mean a lot. Anyway, Ness is making one of her ‘specialties’ since her tamales were terrible. So if you want to come over for spaghetti tonight you’re always welcome at Casa de Rivera-Allen”

Toni made a face “Ads, I would love to but I already promised Jughead we would work on the cipher the Black Hood put out…”

“Oh…” Adria’s eyes widened “Well awesome. I hope that goes well for you.” She gave Toni a wink

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Anyone with eyes can see you’ve got a thing for the new boy. I don’t blame you, he’s cute.”

Toni blushed “It’s not like that. He’s got a girlfriend. If you looked up ‘Girl Next Door’ in the dictionary you’d find a full page picture of Betty Cooper”

“Wow. Girl Next Door, huh? Definitely not what I expected from Mr. Dark and Mysterious. I’m sure you’re more his type anyway. Only a matter of time before he sees it too.” Adria nudged Toni in the shoulder “We’ll miss you tonight but definitely tell me how it goes!”

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

That night Adria passed the time by chopping up mushrooms for her aunt’s ‘special’ spaghetti sauce. Although she wasn’t sure if Ness was allowed to call it special when the base was a store bought can of tomato sauce.

“Fuck!” Adria heard Ness grumbling with her face inside the pantry. She pulled out a can of sauce and examined it “This expired a year ago. I really should clean this whole thing out.”

Adria stopped chopping up mushrooms to look at her aunt “Anything you need me to do?”

Ness sighed “Can you stop by the bodega and pick up a couple cans of sauce? See if Fangs will go with you. I don’t want you out alone after dark.”

Adria sighed and threw on a coat “I’ll be back”

Just as she was told she paid a visit to her neighbor, pounding on his door. For a second she thought about if Fang’s parents would answer the door. Then again, that never happened. It seemed like everyone on the southside was either working multiple jobs to make ends meet or running errands for the Serpents. She probably only saw Ness as much as she did because of child services looming over their heads.

“Fangs!” She yelled

Fangs opened the door, confusion all over his face “What? Miss me already?”

“Terribly. I need someone to walk to the bodega with me. Apparently I’m too frail to go by myself.”

Fangs laughed “Have you seen yourself? Anyway what’s in it for me?”

“Ness’ spaghetti and my appreciation?”

“You got enough for 2 more? Sweet Pea and I are playing video games.”

Adria stopped in her tracks. “Sure…” apprehension was apparent in her voice, but considering she liked to consider herself sane, the idea of a serial killer out and about made her not want to go alone. Even if the bodega was a fairly short walk from the trailer park.

“Awesome!” Fangs smiled “I’ll grab Pea.”

Adria waited outside, rubbing her arms to keep herself warm. Regretting every decision she made up until this point.

Fangs exited the trailer with a disgruntled Sweet Pea following shortly behind. She wasn’t sure how to feel as he looked equally as upset about the arrangement. Honestly, she wasn’t sure how Fangs even convinced him. Especially in that short of a time.

The walk to the bodega was eerily silent. There wasn’t really anyone out on the streets and the company she kept didn’t say a word. Which was concerning but not necessarily surprising. She and Sweet Pea weren’t one to talk to each other by choice and Fangs must not have felt like keeping the peace tonight. Or maybe he was trying to avoid the fact that the awkward silence was his fault for inviting Sweet Pea in the first place.

Adria was now determined to make the trip as quick as possible. In addition to practically running to keep pace with the two boys, she quickly grabbed a couple cans of sauce from the store. She shot a quick text to Ness letting her know they would have two additional people for dinner tonight. All she got back in return was a string of smiley face emojis.

Adria met back up with Fangs and Sweet Pea outside, both of which seemed significantly less tense without her. The two were throwing play punches when they saw her.

“Ready to go?” Fangs smiled “I’m starving”

“Yeah of course” Adria raised the bag for both to see “Got the goods right here.”

The trio rounded the corner only for Sweet Pea to stop all of them

“What the fuck is this?”

Not even 20 feet away from them was the redhead from the snuff/porn video spray painting something onto the side of the bodega. Fangs looked and Sweet Pea and both of them seemed to reach a silent agreement. They weren’t leaving without showing this kid who ran this side of the tracks.

Adria followed the two as they stormed up to the red head and squared off. Adria wasn’t sure what was going to happen but she knew it wasn’t anything good. She stood next to Sweet Pea and Fangs ready to watch the entire scene play out.

“What do you think you’re doing” Sweet Pea shoved the guy’s shoulder so he was facing the group “Southside’s Serpent country.”

“Back off” The guy said “This doesn’t involve you.”

“Yeah?” Sweet Pea smirked “And who’s this for then? Hell, don’t tell me it’s for the Black Hood” he chuckled

The red head tried to walk away but both Sweet Pea and Fangs shoulder checked him, keeping him in place

“Where do you think you’re going?” Sweet Pea continued “You think you can just come here and tag our turf? Go back to the Northside”

“Move before someone gets hurt.” His eyes moved from Fangs, to Sweet Pea, and then locked onto Adria. Almost like he didn’t notice she was there until just now.

Both Sweet Pea and Fangs looked at each other and laughed. Adria was in awe of this kid. Didn’t he know that messing with any sort of gang was usually a bad idea?

Sweet Pea pulled a switch blade out of his coat pocket and released the knife “You’ve just made a big mistake” his smile was easy to see, even in the dark. It was clear he was in his element. As much as Adria would never admit it to a living soul he looked really good doing it. She scolded herself internally.

The guy’s eyes narrowed as he reached into the pocket of his hoodie. None of them expected him to pull out a gun and wave it in their faces

“Who made a mistake?” His voice grew louder to the point where he was yelling. All three were in a state of shock, Adria worst of all. Fangs immediately put his hands into the air, while Sweet Pea lowered his knife.

Adria, however, froze. She never in a million years imagined herself in this position, even with her father’s profession. She always had a sicario or two with her to keep watch but even then no one who wanted to live would dare threaten Alejandro Rivera’s only daughter. Even people who had a death wish didn’t want a death as painful as what waited for them if they so much as looked at her the wrong way.

Before she could even process how to react Sweet Pea grabbed her arm and moved her behind him

“Woah, Woah” he took a step back “In front of the lady?”

Sweet Pea gave her a quick push and whispered ‘run’ before the three of them took off. They didn’t stop running until they were in the safety of Sunnyside Trailer Park.

Adria was still in shock over the whole ordeal. Fangs took the shopping bag from her and led her inside. Adria quickly walked off to the bathroom as Fangs and Sweet Pea talked to Ness in the kitchen. When the bathroom door was shut she turned on the fan and ran over to the toilet, throwing up everything in her stomach. When she finished she walked over to the sink and splashed her face with cold water. The face she saw in the mirror barely looked like her own. She looked broken, her skin red and eyes puffy.

She was quickly brought out of it by a knock on the door

“Ads? It’s me. You good?” Fangs voice came from the other side “Ness wanted me to tell you dinner’s just about ready.”

Adria slowly opened the door to face him, trying her best to look normal. Judging by the look on Fangs’ face it clearly wasn’t working.

“Let’s just get this over with.”

Thankfully Ness didn’t ask too many questions with the guys there. After dinner Adria went back to Fangs’ with both boys. The three sat in silence on the living room floor for what seemed like an eternity. Until Adria finally spoke up

“Thanks for not saying anything to Ness. I’d appreciate if we could keep it that way.”

Both Sweet Pea and Fangs nodded

“Are you okay though, Ads?” Fangs asked “You’ve been a mess since it happened.”

Adria let out a small, sad chuckle “That bad, huh?” She brought her knees up to her chest “Needless to say I never thought someone would have the balls to point a gun at me.”

“Even with your dad?” Fangs asked

“Especially with my dad. He’d have them gutted alive. Do you deal with this a lot?”

“No. Not usually.” Sweet Pea broke his silence “We have to retaliate. If we don’t we look weak.” He looked to Fangs

“You’re right. What’s the plan?” Fangs asked. Both of them were far more serious than she had ever seen them. Given the circumstances it shouldn’t be surprising and yet it still was. She felt like she was seeing a brand new side of both of them and it was fascinating to watch.

“Whatever it is I want in” Adria inched closer to be part of the conversation

“Absolutely not.” Sweet Pea snapped “You froze there. Who’s to say he won’t have it again?”

Adria sat there quietly for a moment. She didn’t have anything close to a good response. She glanced over at Fangs who silently shook his head

“He has a point, Ads. Just let us handle it.” He stood up from where he was sitting “Let me walk you back home” Adria was about to argue as it was literally 20 steps away from his door but he spoke again “I insist.”

Adria groaned and followed Fangs the short distance to her front door; he stopped abruptly and put his hands on her shoulders. Adria raised her eyebrow, waiting for him to reveal whatever was going on in his head.

“I’ll tell you everything. I swear.” Fangs removed his hands from her shoulders and pulled her into a hug, rubbing his hand up and down her back as she started to ease up a bit “If you ever need to talk about what happened tonight I’m just a few steps away.” He let go and flashed her a large smile before turning around and walking back to his trailer.

Ashe watched him disappear into the door and let out a large sigh, sitting on the front step. Once again she felt alone looking to the lit window of Fang’s trailer. She could only imagine what they were planning. She thought about calling Toni before remembering she would be at Jughead’s. Good friends didn’t interrupt quality time with the guy their friend’s trying to bang.

So Adria rest her hands behind her and looked up to the sky, for the first time in a long time able to see stars.

[howdoyouspellepiphany]

The Prophecy

Summary: Min Yoongi is the first in line for the throne in Infernum. He is the only child of Hades, the current King of Infernum and Min Yoo Jung, the goddess of harvest and spring. A long time ago, a prophecy have fallen upon Infernum and Paradisus which promises the demise of two realms in the hands of a creature that many believes to be a mortal. With Hades gone in search for a solution, Yoongi had to fill in his father’s position as a regent. And for the longest time, everything is going smoothly ignorant to his mother’s feelings.

So, when his mother, the goddess of spring had forced him to spend some time with her on Earth after ignoring her and her feelings for 15 years, he had no choice but to obey her. 

Now, the prince of Infernum is back on Earth and he met a pink haired waiter who looks like heaven and smells like sin. And all of a sudden, he was reminded by the prophecy:

Beautiful as the creature may be, fire doesn’t burn, ice doesn’t freeze, water doesn’t drown and lightning doesn’t destroy.

 Warnings: Implied smut, crude language, ignorant author

Chapter 2   Chapter 3   Chapter 4  Chapter 5

Chapter 1

When Yoongi opens his eyes, he finds himself on some park near an unknown river. He grumbles as he glares at the sun shining up above with white puffy clouds and blue sky. It’s a beautiful day with birds chirping and flowers begins to bud. It was the first day of spring and everything is coming back to life after 3 months of hibernation. He glares at the sun in disdain as his senses slowly return to him. The silver haired man groans and forces himself to sit upright. His brows creases as the wetness at the back of his black shirt slowly makes its presence known. It has gotten wet due to lying on the grass (presumably wet due to melted snow).

Frankly, Yoongi is man who has 10:1 ratio of what he couldn’t stand to what he can. And being wet is one of the things he cant stand.

             “I’m going to kill Namjoon.” He seethes as memories of being pushed into the loophole flashes through his cold, bluish grey eyes. Yoongi had a small dispute with Namjoon before he was so rudely interrupted by his own advisor.

‘You need to settle things with Suran. Things are really looking bad for her and if you don’t help her, she might really get turned against this time.’ Now, how many times have Yoongi heard this? Thrice in a span of 5 years. Suran have always managed to make things alright again when given time. So why is this time any different? ‘Also, you need to visit your mother on time, this year. I can’t handle her wrath last year when you decided to bail at the last moment. How many years has it been since you last saw her? 17? 20?’ His advisor patiently reminded him for the umpteenth time this week. Yoongi was at the end of the thin and fragile rope known as his patience. If he ever hears Namjoon bringing up his mother again for the 132,510th time, he swears in his father’s name that he will end Namjoon himself.

‘You know I can’t help it. I am a regent until my father returns.’ Yoongi said and the blonde man next to him sighs dejectedly. Yoongi knows that the stress of managing a kingdom hasn’t only taken a toll on him but on his advisor as well. He knows that Namjoon means well and is trying to help him make wise decisions but he is a prince to his people first. ‘I am sure Suran can come and pay us a visit here herself and I haven’t been visiting my mother for only 15 years. Don’t exaggerate it, Namjoon and I’m sure it feels like only what? 6 months have passed-‘

‘9 months.’ Namjoon corrected.

‘Right, 9 months have passed and it’s not even that long and my mother will understand. Now, call the members of the council for a meeting. I need to speak with them urgently about your birth home. I hear it’s worse this time round. It had really gotten down to -310 degrees and my demons are freezing over there.’

‘You don’t need to worry about Athara. What you need to worry is about your position on Earth. Suran can’t keep filling in for you. The dhampirs and the ghouls are going berserk and Suran’s army can’t hold up against them any longer. The dispute is very bad, Yoongi. They are going against the pact and they are going to have Suran’s head if you’re not going to do anything.’

‘I am going to do something and I am going to Earth as soon as I’m done with my duties here. You’re not helping by having this conversation with me.’ Yoongi creased his eyebrows as he wonders when did Namjoon learn to talk back to his words while the said blonde demon glares at the prince as he tries to ignore the loud voices inside his head to hit the royal highness square in the face for being so stubborn. But he obviously decides against it for he knows Yoongi isn’t kind enough to let him pass with just half his bones broken.

‘Your duties as a prince will never stop.’ Namjoon tries again. He is truly worried for the things going on in the world above them and he is getting desperate and frustrated that Yoongi doesn’t seem bothered. ‘You need to get up to the surface.’

‘I don’t see why you’re so worried. We have Jungkook up there.’ Yoongi said despite knowing how his little brother enjoys the bloodshed and war. He knows that Jungkook is own version of Ares and the golden boy has never let him down before so he doesn’t understand why this is any different. But before Yoongi could even say more, a loophole appears before his feet and Namjoon flashes him a smirk.

‘Say hello to Queen Yoo Jung for me.’    

The silver-haired adolescent with fair skin rips the green grass off the ground as he tries to control his temper so the grass in his palms down burst into flames. I ought to change my advisor. He thought spitefully. This isn’t a great start for him. For one, he isn’t completely sure where he is, as he just thought of wherever his mother might be with hopes that the loophole will bring him to where she is. But vagueness isn’t what loopholes obey to and he ended up in a park where humans are found lingering around. Great. He rolls his eyes. Yoongi takes in a deep breath despite how uncomfortable the wet shirt feels like clinging onto his skin is and he couldn’t deny that he actually does like the clean air right after winter. After all, he couldn’t deny what his other half is made from.

Yoongi is the first-born child of Hades, the King of Infernum and his mother, Min Yoo Jung, the goddess of spring. He is the only heir and first in line to the throne which he has been taking for a while now that his father had embarked on a journey many moons ago with his brothers Zeus and Poseidon to find their father, Kronos.

The reason behind their impromptu journey is that a prophecy was bestowed upon them like lightning on a beautiful, peaceful night. Cassandra of Troy was visiting Apollo’s Temple one night when the tales of the future flashes against her irises. She described the disaster as a sea of flames engulfing Paradisus – Olympus to be exact and in the middle of it all is a creature who has the features of a mere mortal. The fire was so strong that even Poseidon’s water couldn’t tame it as it burns everything that stand in its way whereas Zeus’s lightning did little to no damage against the mortal. Upon seeing the raging fire, angels have tried bringing the ice from Infernum’s Athara but alas, the ice melt against the raging fire. It was total chaos as bright orange and amber burns in Cassandra’s eyes. And as Paradisus burns to death, Infernum freezes up for there is no Paradisus without Infernum and vice versa. She’s seeing the end of both Paradisus and Infernum and it all ended in the hands of the said creature.

She had summoned Hermes that very night and told him of the final prophecy she saw before killing herself in the temple of a God that she resents with her whole existence. She has decided that she will not take sides and there’s a wicked voice in her head which did not belong to any of the goddesses that taunts Cassandra to let the gods who have done no justice to her and her people die. Hermes had flown back to Paradisus in a haste and barged in the Zeus’s golden chateau in the heart of Paradisus – Olympus as soon as he got there. Once the message was relayed to Zeus, he had called for an emergency meeting one so big that it includes the King of Infernum himself.

Yoongi was still young when he followed his father, Hades to Olympus for weeks with no end. Yoongi didn’t do so well in the friend department but still to make a friend in Olympus who was shunned for not being beautiful. Nevertheless, he still remembers the chaos and the hushed voices of older gods and goddesses who are constantly whispering about the prophecy wherever they go in fear for their lives.

Beautiful as the creature may be, fire doesn’t burn, ice doesn’t freeze, water doesn’t drown and lightning doesn’t destroy.

And everything went to shambles from there.

Massacres and the strong stench of blood lingers in the air for a long period of time due to selfishness and fear. Even so, the gods knew they couldn’t cower in fear and the massive and groundless massacre for long hence, the three most powerful gods went to search for an answer from their father.

Yoongi stares off the distance as he tries to figure out where he was sent to but to no avail. He just couldn’t pinpoint where he is. He tilts his head to the left a little in frustration as he sighs until two older women jog past him. He was sure he had memorized every page of that Geography book Jungkook had made personally and sent him before coming here. It was impossible that he couldn’t recognize any of these buildings from his little brother’s professional photographs.

“Another one wasted? What a disappointment.” One of them nudges the other.

“I wonder what’s to happen to the younger generation for they dye their hair in odd colours then go to parties and get wasted all night.” The other woman scoffs in distaste. Upon hearing them, Yoongi immediately stands up and gave them a smile before looking into their eyes. And almost immediately, he sees the few things that troubles them – being old, financial issues and family feuds.

“Good morning, grandmothers. It truly baffles me how you can badmouth a stranger who is trying to relax when your children are basically living off of your pension money on liquor and grade C coke.” He said with a polite tone. He was feeling less annoyed now that he knows where he is. He even bowed to them before leaving as he hears some insults were thrown his way but he blatantly ignores them. The deep yellow was starting to radiate above their skin says it all – they were embarrassed and Yoongi have already attacked their biggest weakness. Nothing else that may come out of their mouth that is worth his wasted time.

So, for his own crude amusement, Yoongi decides to indulge himself in the scenery before him as he ignores the curses that comes out of the women’s mouths. Although there is no place like home, he is still amazed with how fast Korea is developing over the past few years that he wasn’t able to accompany his mother. Speaking of his mother, he should have known that she would have chosen Korea despite there are 194 other countries in the world. She must have chosen Korea this time to see the cherry blossoms for she was summoned to Paradisus last year by her mother, Demeter for something his grandmother might have wanted. The mother-daughter pair have never let him in any of their discussion for Demeter used to tell him that it was something only the Divines would understand. It used to annoy the living shit out of Yoongi when he was younger hence not seeing his grandmother up till now. But it’s not like Demeter had even remotely tried to talk to him, anyways.

Yoongi buries his hands in the pockets of his black leather jeans as he lets his body guide him to the apartment where he believes his mother resides. Seoul in his eyes is a beautiful city. It has a different feeling from he was in Tokyo, Singapore, London or New York. He likes deceiving Seoul is. While the exterior is clean, scenic and prepossessing, the interior is squalid, grotesque and appalling.  And despite how amusing weaponry smuggling and drug lord wars are in Yoongi’s eyes, he finds himself at home amongst the two-faced everyday civilians he encounters.

As soon as he steps out of the park, he becomes more aware of the putrid air – the smell of sex, hypocrites, jealousy and failure thick in the air. Yoongi is a clairvoyant type of demon whereby he can ‘see’ feelings through colours despite not being able to hypnotize people the way Namjoon easily can with a snap of his fingers. He sees deep red of lust radiating from teenagers and adults alike, deep blue of sorrow and purple of avarice on men and women in suits. It is very rare for him to find other colours on adolescents and elderly alike. But with children, they indulge him in other colours like white which represents innocence, gold that represents intense happiness and pastel pink that are soothing to the eyes due to their pure love.  

As he was zoning out, he found himself outside of his mother’s apartment as he stares at the number on the brown door. He sighs as he punches in the 6-digit password – 814519 as it flashes green, chimes a little and an unlock sound was heard. He pushes the handle downwards and steps in the apartment. To his surprise, his one and only mother was standing in front of the door with a ridiculously huge smile on her features. Yoongi sighs at the sight as she pulls him into a hug. “If you were here, why didn’t you open the door for me?” Yoongi mumbles as he accepts his mother’s warm embrace. His mother, Yoo Jung or more commonly known as Persephone or Jachongbi, is a tan woman with locks that reminds him of the golden rays of the sun during a bright sunny day. Yoongi, on the other hand is ivory skinned. He is, according to his mother a complete copy of Hades. The only thing he physically inherited from his mother is her greyish blue eyes.

“You’re freezing!” Yoo Jung exclaims as she hugs her son tighter. Yoongi rolls his eyes. He’s always freezing. That’s what he and his father is. Despite ruling Infernum which in normal and common belief is supposed to be on fire, it’s actually quite cold but the fire burns hotter than it normally does. When Yoo Jung lets go of her son, she pats his cheeks as her eyes water. “It’s been a while since I last saw you.” She whispers and Yoongi sighs.

“Mom you know I’ve got no choice. Dad is gone-“

“I know, I know. With your father gone, you’re the regent. I know. But cant I miss my own son? You don’t visit me anymore.” Yoo Jung said, frowning.

“But I’m here now.” Yoongi tried and Yoo Jung smiles at her son before ruffling his hair. The said woman begins to ask too many questions at once like ‘have he eaten’ or ‘is he tired from the journey’ and ‘when is Namjoon coming’ all of which is ignored by Yoongi. He just wants to rest now that he’s on Earth but instead of going straight to his shared bedroom with Jungkook and Namjoon, he went towards the old brown piano nearby his mother’s balcony where she has her plants planted in pots. He runs his finger across the wood but never the keys. He has been dying to touch the piano ever since he had no time for it but now that he’s actually touching it, he fears that he’s already forgotten the notes. And so, he turns away from the piano and steps outside.

As a child, Yoongi learns how to create life like his mother does and did his best to learn every single type of flora there is even the ones present in the human world. “You still have these?” Yoongi asks as he touches the soft petals of the tuberose. The flower reminds him of sunsets because it starts with a deep purple from the dark green stem that slowly turns into dark red and pink before it turns into orange and ends with yellow tips.

“The Neoleas? You know your brother can’t sleep well without them.” Yoo Jung said softly as a memory of the past flashes before her eyes. The tragedy didn’t only physically affect Yoo Jung but Yoongi as well. For the sake of keeping the atmosphere light, he forces himself to focus on other things like:

“Is that why we have a smaller version of a peach tree here?” Yoongi asks in amusement. “You spoil him too much.” The heir of Infernum plucks a peach off the small tree and eats it. Of course, the plants that were planted by her hands always turn out scrumptious for she is the goddess of spring and plants befitting to be the daughter of Demeter, the goddess of harvest.

“I spoil all my boys.” Yoo Jung said in defence. “Which reminds me, I made some lamb skewers for both you and Jungkook in the fridge. I’m sure there’s plenty for the both of you and Namjoon so don’t quarrel over it.” Yoongi makes a face. Quarrel? Over lamb skewers? What are we? 7? “I know what you’re thinking, Yoongi. Although I don’t think the three of you resembles children, but your actions always speak louder.”

“What are you talking about?” Yoongi scoffs, offended.

“The last time I made too little, the house was reduced to ashes.”

“Honestly, that was all Jungkook.” Yoongi said in a matter of fact-ly tone.

“Yeah? Then mind justifying yourself why I vividly remember you biting Namjoon’s burnt hand while Jungkook was eating is own tail?” Yoo Jung asks, hands on her hips as she dares her son try to win the debate.

“It was still Jungkook.” Yoongi mumbles petulantly while the goddess of spring can only shake her head and sigh at her son’s behaviour.

“Anyway, there’s some japchae in the fridge for Jungkook’s dear friend. Do remind the boy to take them over for his friend before it turns bad, will you?” Yoo Jung said as she heats up the bulgogi she made earlier in case her son decides to stop by.

The demon prince, now clad in a black leather jacket found himself wandering in the streets of Seoul once again on his red and black Streetfighter. He just wants to discover the city a bit more for it clearly had changed since the last time he came. It’s obvious that it had gotten more modern now. Yoongi makes a stop at the red light and all of a sudden, a bitter but calming aroma of coffee hits his olfactory and he can’t help but reminisce the time he spent with a human girl named Yaksoku. Yaksoku is your everyday girl who has troubles with her skin and hair. She was a crossbreed between a Korean mother and a Japanese father – hence the name, Yaksoku which rhymes with promise in both Korean and Japanese. Her skin isn’t very fair and her looks are mediocre but she managed to captivate his attention with her luscious black hair that reminds him of the night sky at 3 in the morning and her warm brown eyes that resembles the coffee he likes so much.

Yaksoku, the human girl who captured Yoongi’s attention is someone with dreams of opening up a café. She used to take odd jobs (which eventually leads to their fateful encounter) and one day, with Yoongi’s help, she was able to turn her dreams into a reality. Yoongi isn’t a saint, no. He told her that she needs to trade her soul for it and she agreed without hesitations even if it meant sleeping with him. He used to think that she’s foolish to sell her soul for something that he hasn’t even given her but when he saw the determination in her eyes, he isn’t sure if her decision is foolish anymore.  

He doesn’t know why he stayed true to his end of the deal to help her build the café but he did and he built it from scratch. And he unknowingly gained Yaksoku from it as she did not only give him her body and soul but an unbreakable bond built on trust and friendship. It wasn’t as though he loved her and vice versa but they feel at lost when the other isn’t by their side – much like when you miss your best friend after not seeing them after 30 minutes. But being regent is harder than Yoongi have originally thought and the Fallens have begun questioning him of Yaksoku and he ended up leaving after giving her soul back to her.

While he is lost in his thoughts, his body brings him to Yaksoku’s café – the Promise café. He doesn’t want to admit to anyone but seeing her for the first time in a few years made him excited. The white haired prince isn’t even sure if she wants to see him again after all these years after he left but he knows that his best friend isn’t one to leave him. He can proudly say that he knows her all too well.

Yoongi has strains his neck as subtly as he can to steal glances inside the café for a woman’s silhouette with hopes that it’s Yaksoku. He knows that her necklace might already be glowing as an indication of his arrival but he still wants to sacrifice his neck to search for his best friend. When he couldn’t find her, he hastily parks his bike and hops down. As soon as he enters the shop, the air conditioning immediately hits his skin and he welcomes the chill and the lustful eyes that comes with. It is no secret that Min Yoongi is blessed with good looks as females and males alike ogle shamelessly at the demon prince whenever he struts past them as the said demon barely gave them a glance while minding his own business. Yoongi makes his way to corner next to the cactus he had Yaksoku get when she first opens the café as he emits a don’t-bother-me aura when he finally makes eye contact with the humans who are still staring at him. He sees how some avert their eyes as the colour changes from red to yellow – a colour of embarrassment or cowardice.

To Min Yoongi, humans’ feelings are a fickle thing. The colours they emit changes so fast and soothing, pastel colours he often sees in children are rarely ever present on adults as the usual two colours he often sees is the deep, smothering red surrounding men which represents their insatiable lust and the disgusting green that reminds him of a swamp or the slime on Leviathan’s back surrounding the women which shows him their envy and jealousy.  

There is a 10:1 ratio of the things Yoongi hates to the things he likes here on Earth. Amongst the few things that he undoubtedly like is his mother’s cooking, alcohol, drugs, cigars, fruitless deaths, pretty things, lots of filthy sex and coffee. So, when a pink haired waiter coming his way with a scent that goes well with the bitter aroma of coffee in a loose white shirt, Yoongi found himself salivating. Suddenly, he doesn’t know what he’s salivating for anymore – the boy or the coffee. He couldn’t deny that the boy is drop dead gorgeous with a scent that makes him hungry for more. But what catches him off guard is the fact that there is a thin white light radiating above the boy’s skin – something that Yoongi has never encounter on a grown man for it represents innocence.

“May I take your order?” The boy asks, offering Yoongi a menu as to which the prince declined. He already knows what he wants, after all.

You, Yoongi thought cheekily as he smirks to himself. But he wouldn’t do that to his best friend even if the one who catches his eye looks like heaven and smells like sin. “Black coffee. That’ll be all.” Yoongi said as the pink haired boy bows slightly before taking his leave. Yoongi’s blue eyes follows the boy till he disappears behind the door that separates them and the kitchen.

While the white-haired prince waits for his long-awaited reunion with Yaksoku and his hot cup of coffee, his eyes trail to a certain pair of red eyes that have been blown out with lust. Yoongi holds her gaze as she submits to him with just a look before lowering her a head a little. Yoongi immediately knows that the girl sitting across the table is an ally of Asmodeus’s or her species is more commonly known as a succubus whose greatest sin is lust. He takes notice of the two men next to her, with their hands up and below her skirt no doubt giving her the release she probably had begged for. Now, Min Yoongi is no saint and he, too would do anything to sate his needs by any means possible even if he has to fuck them in the middle of the café but he would be damned if he let himself get controlled by a mere human as he watches the little succubus leads her two play things out the café before giving him a small and subtle bow.

Min Yoongi isn’t a patient man which is why he was baffled himself that he was able to wait for Yaksoku to turn up until the shop closes. The pink haired waiter whose name is Jimin (he learned it after his third cup of coffee and a ‘it’s on the house!’ peanut butter and chocolate flavoured cake) told him that it is past the closing time. Yoongi knew it was closing time nearly 2 hours ago but he didn’t want to believe that Yaksoku didn’t want to come see him but when Jimin had say it, he couldn’t deny the feeling of utter betrayal. Did Yaksoku not want to see me? Is that why she didn’t come? Yoongi couldn’t help but have these toxic thoughts as he braves himself to ask about Yaksoku only to find out that she had passed away a little over 2 years and that Jimin is her grandson. The little piece of information shocked Yoongi greatly. While he was busy with his duties, he forgot that a year to him is equivalent to 20 years in the human realm and if he was aware that at least 3 years have passed in his realm, in the human world, a grand 60 years have passed. Yoongi was shocked beyond words, mostly angry that she had died so easily despite only 60 years have passed.

Humans are indeed weak and pitiful. Yoongi thought in distaste before giving Jimin a 50 dollar bill and took off before Jimin could hand him his change. To anyone who knows Yoongi would already know that the prince had sped off to Aphrodite, the most famous brothel in the red district. He was immediately greeted by Ken or more known as Asmodeus as he was given a glass full of his favourite wine, a room and two of the Aphrodite’s favourite Angels. Once Min Yoongi got his hands on them, he didn’t let go of the Angels even for a breath or for a thought as he used their body for his own pleasure.

Whimpers turn to moans and eventually screams of pain and agony was heard from the room. Yoongi paid no heed to their begging and pleas to stop as he chases his own pleasure. Yoongi’s grand, black wings make its appearance as it rips through his skin and his black shirt once he does. It was so large and so beautiful that for a split second, the angels thought he’s a God but when they meet Yoongi’s unforgiving eyes, they knew he was far from it.

Once he was done, he calls out for Ken whom he knows has been outside of the door, hesitating to enter the room while he had his way with the Angels as he takes out a cigar from the drawer and casually lights it up. The prince of Infernum have only gotten his best friend’s death out of his mind but now another person has creeped in his mind.

When Ken steps in the room and carry his Angels out of the chamber, his jaw drops in awe. The headboard has smashed to pieces, the satin of the bed sheets is torn and feathers all over the floor from the pillows. Ken finally snaps out of his trance when he hears his Angels whimper in pain. He looks at them with emotions devoid in his red eyes – a common feature for Asmodeus and his underlings - as he watches his Angels scramble to cover their body with the torn and soiled satin sheets. The prince has broken them, was the only thing that he can think before helping them out.

“You better leave before Jin finds out what you’ve done to his angels.” Ken said after bringing the second Angel out. Yoongi, on the other hand makes no haste move to cover up as he blows a puff of smoke and downs another bottle of liquor.

“Bring me another one of these.” He said, completely ignoring Ken.

“I’m serious, Yoongi. Leave before Jin finds out.” Yoongi pauses for a moment as he looks at Ken. Yoongi hates being bossed around by anyone including his own mother but he couldn’t blame Ken for being anxious. After all, the demon who gains strength by the fulfilment of one’s carnal desires are torn apart between respecting his prince and maintaining a beneficial friendship with the owner of the club, Jin.

Now, Kim Seokjin or more known as Jin is a friend of Yoongi’s and the son of Aphrodite. He, in Yoongi’s eyes has mommy issues thus naming his infamous brothel after his mother, the goddess of beauty and pleasure. And much like Yoongi, Jin only has a few things that he loves and amongst which is the club, his Angels, his friends and Kim Namjoon. Yoongi sighs as he lays on bed. “Fine, don’t give me another bottle. I’m leaving. I’ll pay your Angels twice the amount for their services tonight.” Yoongi groans as he sits up on the bed. He retracts his wings with a groan. It hurts having them out since it pierces through his skin and it hurts even more getting them back in because it’s not comfortable for him. Ken offers to carefully dab Yoongi’s bloodied skin with a warm towel as he offers kisses down Yoongi’s neck and at the skin where his wings popped out. “Kiss me one more time and I will fuck you into this mattress, Asmodeus.” Yoongi threatens with his real name as the other demon chuckles. Although Ken knows Yoongi doesn’t play around when he calls him by his real name, he couldn’t feel threatened. How is he supposed to feel threatened when all he hears is a promise of a good time?

“You said it like it’s a threat.” Ken coos, kissing Yoongi’s lips, silently daring the prince of Infernum as Ken’s red eyes shine a little in the dim light.

“I have time to spare. If it’s a fuck you want, you know I’ll give it to you.” It is no secret that Yoongi and Ken have fucked before. Gender and species have never been an obstacle to Yoongi although he does have a personal favourite and for a long time, he enjoys copulating with a human most.

“Please do. Don’t hold back this time.” Ken has his tongue out and drag it along Yoongi’s collarbone as the prince chuckles deeply. His eyes are devoid of white sclera as he stares Ken down.

“Alright. But you’re doing all the work.” Yoongi said as he gets comfortable on the bed. He continues to smoke on his cigar as he watches Ken takes his own pants off. The demon then got on his knees and kisses Yoongi again before taking his dick in his hands as he strokes it up and down. Ken’s other hand pushes his own black hair back.

“As you wish, Your Highness.” Ken whispers as he places his knees in between Yoongi’s thighs.

“You don’t have STDs or anything like that, do you?” Yoongi asks, blowing a puff of smoke into Ken’s face.

“You wound me, Your Highness. You can’t get any of those humanly diseases and so can’t I.” Ken replies, feigning hurt.

“It’s always a good idea to be safe, Ken. Who knows who else have fucked your tight little asshole.” Ken moans wantonly at Yoongi’s words as he feels his prince’s dick thicken in girth as it begins to slowly stand tall.

“Only humans, Your Highness. Clean humans.”

“Very well then. Serve me.” Upon Yoongi’s verbal green light, Ken sinks down to Yoongi’s full length. Yoongi closes his eyes at the surprisingly wet and tight asshole but when he opens his eyes, the one bouncing on his dick no longer takes the form of Ken. If it werent for his voice, he would have believed his eyes.

“I live to do just that.” Ken whispers, knowing full well that he now looks like someone Yoongi has been wanting. Though Ken doesn’t know whom, Yoongi surely does. He would have been damned if he ever forgets his pink hair.

Chapter 2

[swfanficbyjz]

SW Rey Theory - Legacy of Light - Chapter 26

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(10 and 11 years after Return of the Jedi)

           Ashla stared numbly out the transparisteel glass of the Millennium Falcon as Nyx jumped the ship into hyperspace. It was strange to be back on this ship, but it felt good to be somewhere familiar again. She knew better than to be worried about her mom now, but she was tired of feeling guilty that her mom had to save her sorry butt. As if Ahsoka didn’t have enough to worry about, now she was causing her more trouble. One of these days she was going to get her killed, and that scared her. She bit her lip and glanced over at her uncle that she hadn’t seen for fifteen years. She’d been so lost in thought, she didn’t realize he was studying her. “What?”

​            “Nothing…” he looked away, brushing his long dark hair out of his eyes. He looked thinner than she remembered, and paler. Was he still drinking so much?

​            “Thank you for picking me up,” she said nervously, expecting him to be angry that he’d had to get involved with her again. She had no idea how her mom had found him and gotten here so fast, but she was grateful. “I don’t mean to cause you trouble.” He sighed and leaned his head back against the chair.

​            “You aren’t trouble, Ashla,” he murmured, closing his eyes. She wanted to ask him why that wasn’t what it felt like sometimes, but maybe it was better to let it go. She couldn’t remember the last time he was this quiet and not upset about something. She wondered what had changed since the last time she’d seen him. They’d kept in touch over the years, but not a lot was said about where they were or what they were doing. So the conversations were brief and sporadic. She’d missed him, despite knowing that he’d probably been happy to be rid of her after dropping her off at the enclave. “I’m sorry,” he said after awhile. “I should have taken better care of you.”

​            “Uncle Nyx…” tears welled up in her eyes and she hopped up to hug him. “You did take good care of me. I didn’t understand it before, but I do now. You were scared, and after what I’ve seen, I understand why.”

​            “But it was my job as your guardian to protect you and I didn’t,” he patted her awkwardly on the arm and she let go. She’d forgotten he wasn’t as openly affectionate as Rex had been. 

​            “You can’t blame yourself.”

​            “But I do.” He stared at his feet. “When your mother showed up on my doorstep, I liked her right away. She gave me a hard time, pressuring me into letting her stay while I got beat up by thugs looking for some money I owed them. I don’t remember what all happened, but when I came to, they were gone and Ahsoka was standing over me offering to help me up. I never did figure out how she got rid of them, since there weren’t any cops nearby, but I was too grateful to care. After seeing the way she fought that guy back there, well… I guess I finally have an answer. Now I feel pretty foolish for all my rants to her about how much I hated Jedi. Without her help, I think my business would have tanked. She pulled me out of a bad place, kept debt collectors off my back and helped out around the shop. I was nervous about the future when she told me she was pregnant, I had no idea what to expect. Dealing with kids was not my forte. She was so patient with me, she let me help take care of you even though I wasn’t your father and I guess I fell in love with you a bit quicker than I wanted to admit to anyone.” He fell silent for awhile. She kept hoping he’d continue, but he didn’t.

​            “My mom said that even though leaving me behind was the hardest choice she ever had to make, she trusted you,” she smiled reassuringly at him. 

​            “I don’t know why. I badmouthed her old life, I badmouthed your father, I even badmouthed her…” 

          She reached out and squeezed his hand. “Jedi can sense things. She knew that in your heart you were a good person and that you’d take care of me as if I were your own, and you did.” She tried to sit back down but felt something inside her and she almost missed the seat. “Whoa.”

          “Are you alright?” he asked as she hunched back against the seat.

          “Yeah, I'm just tired." She stared straight ahead wondering if it meant what she thought it did. She shook it off, she'd been through a lot today and frankly, she didn't trust her senses right now. She hoped she’d be able to trust them again after what happened with Starkiller. "Nyx?”

          “Hmm?”

          “What changed? Why are you suddenly so… uh… nice?” She blushed realizing that probably wasn’t how she should have asked him what was going through his mind.

          “I guess I’m turning into an old softie,” he smirked at her and looked away.

          “Seriously, what gives? You’re acting weird.” She rolled her eyes.

          “Something your mother said before she jumped out…” she held her breath wondering if he’d actually tell her what that was.

          “Well? What?” she begged him to continue.

          “All these years I’ve stupidly believed that I’d gotten stuck raising you when that wasn’t at all what I thought I wanted to do. I resented her for the trouble it caused me. Meanwhile, she’d been wishing it was her that had you. That she’d gotten to be the one there and not me. The ironic part, I suppose… was that if your mother had been interested in being with me, I would have helped raise you anyways.” He looked up at her and she watched him curiously. “I don’t think she ever wanted me like that, mind you, but I kept hoping maybe she would if she saw what I did for you. Then seeing her again, wowee… it took my breath away.” His eyes widened, and he looked at her. “Don’t tell her I said that. I shouldn’t have said that.” He leapt to his feet and left the cockpit mumbling to himself and she stared after him confused. 

          She shook her head, smiling. So that was the main reason he’d put up with her for so long? He was still madly in love with her mother. It didn’t really surprise her to learn that. Everyone she’d ever talked to that had known her mother was enamored by her. And why shouldn’t they be? She was amazing! She was powerful, strong, soft, kind, brilliant... Ezra had admired her. Rex respected her and would do anything for her. Chewbacca had cared for her. Her father, who’d married a queen, had fallen in love with her. Ahsoka was just that type of person; you couldn’t help but love her. 

          She glanced down at her belly. She wasn't sure how she felt about sensing she could be pregnant. She thought she'd loved Galen. They'd definitely had chemistry, but after finding out who he really was... the idea that she was carrying his child made her nervous. She wanted to be a mother, at least she'd known for sure she did after making that deal with her own mom years ago. This was not how she’d imagined it, but maybe now that her mom was back from wherever she'd gone for so long, maybe they could finally be together. Maybe her mom would help her raise it. Although she hoped Ahsoka wouldn't be disappointed to find out Starkiller was the father. 

          Thinking about her mom reminded her that she’d just left her to fend for herself with dozens of crazy acolytes closing in around her and Starkiller intent on killing her. She tipped her head back, reaching into the force. “Mom? Are you still there?”

          “Of course, I am, love.” Ashla smiled the moment her mom’s voice came through. “It takes more than a raging maniac to bring me down. You should know that by now.”

          “I do, I do,” she laughed. Her mom sounded lighter, but still so serious. Like she knew something Ashla didn't. She didn’t know enough to understand the whole weight of what Starkiller had been trying to do to her, but the way her mom had reacted when she’d said they had dad’s helmet… Her mom had reacted in fear. It had crashed through her so strongly it had startled her. She’d never felt her mother afraid before. If she had been, she’d hid it well. Her mom had always known what to do, what to say. She seemed so sure of herself all the time, and Ashla wanted nothing more than to live up to that; to become that confident.

          So if her mother was afraid of this, she was too. This was bigger than she thought. She stared out the transparisteel glass and tried to relax, but a deep sense of foreboding settled inside her. They’d dismantled the Empire before, they could face this threat too, right?

 ---

          "I need to, uh, meditate," Luke looked away nervously after Leia went to check on her son. Ahsoka watched him tiredly for a moment but didn't move. Seeing him in person after so long was strange. He was almost a spitting image of Anakin, but she could see Padmé’s softness in him. Life and responsibility had been thrust at him with such force it was amazing he was standing so strongly in the light. This was the child that had tipped the balance in his father and brought him back to her. If only he knew how much that meant to her. Maybe someday she would tell him. Or maybe not. Well Padmé, your children turned out just fine. I think you’d be proud. I just wish after what we’ve all been through, that things were getting better not worse. I promise I’ll try to help them as best I can.

          "Master Yoda. Master Kenobi. Anakin… If you're there, we need a word," she said aloud, crossing her arms in front of her.

          "Oh right... I forgot you… wait..." Luke didn't get to finish his thought as the three force ghosts appeared in the room.

          "It's good to see you again, Ahsoka."

          "I wish it was under better circumstances," she brushed off Obi wan's words, not in the mood for false pleasantries. She paced back and forth as she recited everything she possibly could about what she'd learned on Taris, without of course, mentioning that Ashla was her daughter. She tried to ignore the way Anakin watched her carefully. The others were distracted by the words she'd said, but he’d always been in tune with more than that. He knew something else troubled her and she wasn't ready to say what.

          Once they were deep in conversation about the information she'd delivered, she slipped out and made her way to her daughter's room. She sat down on the bed and dropped her face in her hands, sighing deeply. It wasn't long before she felt Anakin join her. She should have known he'd follow her here. Didn’t he have bigger things to worry about? This was about his family after all.

          "I sense there's something else that's bothering you about this." He sat next to her on the bed.

          "That's because there is," she sighed again. She was too tired to cry now, she just felt numb. Why couldn't the dark side stop needing to rule the galaxy for five minutes?

          "Talk to me, Snips." He reached for her hand and she let him take it. At least the flicker of electricity she felt gave her hope she wasn't too far gone.

          "Starkiller said that they were trying to resurrect Darth Vader. I don't know if that's possible, but I have a feeling that if they manage it, you're not going to come back to life as this. You'll be something twisted and dark; and possibly worse than before. I can't lose you again, Anakin. My heart can't take it. I'm getting too old for this." She wished she could lean her head down on his shoulder or fold herself in his arms, but even though he sometimes felt solid, she knew she'd only go right through him. Which would be considerably less satisfying. She was capable of curling up in a ball all by herself, doing it with him there would only exaggerate the pain.

          "You won't lose me, Ahsoka."

          "You don't know that.” She threw her other hand up in frustration. “I'm tired of fighting. It's all I've ever done. Every time I think I could lay down my lightsabers and walk away, something else happens."

          "You don't have to get involved in it. This isn’t your fight. You've warned Leia, you've warned Luke. Let them worry about it now. You've done more than anyone can ask of you," he smiled reassuringly at her, but he didn't understand. He didn't know the whole truth. It wasn't that simple. Their fight was her fight, because she had a daughter that also belonged to him. They might not be her blood, but they were still her family in a way.

          "I can't stop, Anakin. I have too much to fight for."

          "This is about more than losing me, isn't it?" He tipped her chin back.

          "Yes."

          "Tell me."

          "I can't, Anakin. Someday I will, I promise, but I'm not ready yet." Her eyes burned with the millions of tears she'd already shed over this. Why couldn't she just tell him about their daughter? Why did she hold it back now? She had nothing to lose... and yet, it felt like she had everything to lose...

          "Ahsoka..." he was interrupted by Luke's call from the hallway.

          "Dad?"

          "Go, your son needs you," she breathed, gesturing to the door.

          "What about you?" he looked back at her sadly.

          "I'll be okay." At least she hoped she would be. He hesitated a moment longer and then left her sitting there alone. Ashla was safe; she was with Nyx. She was out of Starkiller's grasp. She'd be okay now. But she'd just found out her daughter was pregnant, and it felt like history was repeating itself. Only this time around, it was far worse than before, and somehow the stakes felt so much higher.

          She scoured the room for any of Ashla's belongings she'd left behind, put them in her bag and left Devoran behind her. It was time to confer with Morai and learn everything she possibly could about these acolytes. Morai had told her something very disturbing on Taris; she wasn't the only one that had escaped Mortis in a new form. Her brother; the Son... Ren… was still alive, and he might be the one behind all this. Which meant, this wasn't just a small-time cult with delusions of grandeur. It was a far bigger threat than any of them were ready to face. He'd had far too many years to build it before being discovered. Why hadn’t she connected the dots before?

 ---

             “What’s the matter?” Ashla studied the faraway look her uncle got as he held her newborn child. The fallen walker they’d made home in the middle of the desert on Jakku was… well it would do for now. It was private. It was far from everything, and after the Empire’s horrible defeat here, it was the last place anybody would think to look for them. Hopefully…

           “Nothing. I was just remembering what it was like to hold you for the first time. I delivered you too, you know. It’s come full circle I guess,” he smiled at her and brushed his jet-black hair back out of his eyes.

           “You delivered me?” she laughed, sitting up on the bed. She wished her mom was here right now, but as usual Ahsoka had far more pressing matters to attend to. She wondered how Luke was doing. If they’d been able to help Ben. Her mom had told her not to worry about it, but she did. For the second time she’d been taken away from her brother; her family. Just when she’d thought things were finally looking up. She’d locked away her mother’s lightsabers and sworn that she wasn’t going to do anything that could draw attention to them here. But if this child ended up being a force user, she wanted it to learn too. She’d have to worry about that when it got older.

           “Well obviously I didn’t do the work, but I caught you when you came out. Don’t sound so surprised!” Nyx had chosen to stay with her for awhile after they’d found this place. She was grateful to not be alone. He’d changed a lot in fifteen years. He didn’t drink anymore, but he still liked to gamble too much. She got the impression that he was trying to make it up to her mother for all the years he’d resented her. She didn’t care why he stayed, she was just glad he did. He came around and handed the little girl to her. “So, what are you going to name it?”

           She was instantly in love with the infant in her arms. She thought about what her mom had said about how she got her own name. Then she remembered what Ezra had said to her; about how she lit up the room like her mother, and for the first time, she fully understood how something so amazing and good could be born of darkness; as though the sun had finally peeked out from behind the clouds. She smiled, unable to hold in the joy she felt. “Rey. Her name is Rey.”

Epilogue - >