#it is. its worse. its quite frankly worse than canon

[cloudcountry]

SUMMARY: when your favorite member of their house isn't them.

WARNINGS: kaito's gets a little intense!! but its very canon typical. subaru is a little manipulative ngl.

COMMENTS: i am STILL getting used to writing these guys so i am sorry if they are out of character!! please have mercy!!

Jin’s scowl is more sour than usual. He storms up to his room and slams the door shut, jamming his hand in his pocket in search of his cigarettes. The last thing he needs to see right now is you with Tohma, hanging off his arm and making small talk about how lovely the tea smelt and how good he was at chess. Rage twists and burns in his stomach but you’re the last person he wants to take it out on. Even if Tohma will forever hold your affections, he doesn’t want you to think poorly of him. He thinks it would rip him apart.

Tohma isn’t certain what you see in that first year with the silly blonde hair that follows you around everywhere like a lost puppy. Kaito can’t protect you when worse comes to worst, he can’t stand up for you the way Tohma can. He knows it's underhanded, throwing jabs at his poor underclassman, but he can’t help it. Not when it comes to you. Perhaps, one day, you will see how foolish this is and come running into his arms.

Luca respects the captain a lot, and he knows you do too. It doesn’t give him any bad feelings until you see Jin and call him over, your feet dragging you toward the captain and away from him. Luca thinks you may take one, two, maybe three steps away from him, but you walk until Jin meets you and then you turn back to Luca, beaming at him in a way he’s never seen before. Oh, he realizes, you must like Jin quite a bit to have a smile reserved just for him.

Kaito’s one job is to defend your honor, to keep filthy no good men away from you! After all, he’s the only one you should be considering going out with, and any other man couldn’t treat you like he can! So why...why do you look so happy with Luca? What has he done wrong? Is it his cowardice? His lack of money? Was he not calm enough for you? He sees the way you blush when Luca compliments your hair, brushing his fingers over your cheekbone sinfully. It’s not fair, it's not fair! That should be him touching you like that!

Alan thinks his first years have some real potential. He’s glad you’re taking such good care of them, especially Sho. Actually...you seem quite attached to him. Alan briefly wonders if it’s his food truck, and that’s why you’re always eating food with him, but he realizes that that is very much not the case when he catches the two of you smiling and laughing on Vagastrom’s couch. Sho’s arm is slung over your shoulders and you’re leaning into him, smile never faltering. You’ve never looked at him like that.

Sho doesn’t understand it. He doesn’t know why you’re hanging around Leo so much. Of course, he knows he’s only saying this out of petty jealousy, since he’s been friends with Leo since forever, but doesn’t that give him the right to complain at least a little? What does Leo have that he doesn’t? Did you like his followers and fame? He tries his best to grit his teeth and focus on his food, but the sound of your laughter rings constantly in the back of his mind. This sucks.

Leo has never been so emotionally charged in his life. It’s embarrassing honestly, how you cling to Alan and bat your eyelashes at him like he’s actually worth your time. The captain isn’t smart, he isn’t sharp in the slightest and you’re acting like he’s your savior. It makes him want to gag every time he sees you two, your arm linked with his, a dusty blush on his cheeks as you squeeze him closer. Gross, he can’t believe you feel comfortable touching him like that in public. It totally doesn’t bother Leo at all!

Haru knows better than to get in Towa’s way, and frankly, he wouldn’t dare. You two are precious together. Whether you’re dating or not he doesn’t know, but Haru does know that out of everyone in Jabberwock, you are absolutely the closest with Towa. He’s happy to see his friend happy, really! That’s enough for him! He just wishes that you would respond to his texts as fast as you respond to Towa’s...

Towa is alarmed, first and foremost. The interloper? Do you like him? Is it romantic? Is he your soulmate? Oh, no...Dandelion, you can do so much better, he promises! Ren won’t be able to give you half the things Towa can offer you. He isn’t embarrassed to be by your side or shower you in affection or work hard for your sake! He’d do anything for you, and oh does he mean anything.

Ren thinks it’s disgusting. You’re enamored with Haru. He’s caught you two holding hands, quite literally skipping through the meadows with Peekaboo while he sits inside, hunched over his phone. He scoffs, tearing his eyes away from you and your shimmering smile, and tries to kick the sound of your laugh out of his mind. He is, unfortunately, unsuccessful. Ren throws his head back and groans, searching his brain for any reason why anyone would like that boundary breaking clown of a captain. He comes up with nothing. But then again, the list of reasons why you would like him is about the same, is it not?

Taiga isn’t bothered. He’s always unbothered, if you ask him. That’s why when he sees you fawning over Lulu, he doesn’t bat an eye. Yeah, he’s a pretty guy. If anything, you have good taste. He doesn’t want to be treated that way, though, least of all by you, because that would be such a headache and he doesn’t need to deal with you all the time...right. Right. This is how things should be, of course.

Romeo is infuriated. It’s unthinkable that you would choose to admire that bossy first year over him! He calls you into his office time and time again, bringing up meaningless tasks for you to complete and it should be an honor to serve him! However...the second your phone rings you snatch it up with pure glee on your face and excuse yourself, cooing Ritsu! into the receiver with so much affection it makes him sick. Who do you think you are!? Fico is not to be ignored!

Ritsu tries not to feel too upset, watching you with the captain. It’s ridiculous to think that someone who regularly blows off his work and insults him would catch your eye! Of course, he respects the captain...and he needs his signature so he can protect him if a case does arise...but at the end of the day, that has nothing to do with you! Ritsu does not know how to classify his emotions, so he simply stiffles them, having no need for soft squishy feelings. He needs to be sound and logical at all times, lest bias take him by storm.

Subaru’s heart aches. When did you start getting along so well with Zenji? When did he become your favorite person? Subaru thought you two were getting really close after he told you what his stigma was, and he was so happy to have someone who didn’t care about any of it. He was elated to have someone who wanted to be his friend, but ever since you’ve started to see Zenji that’s been taken away from him. He doesn’t like the stabs of jealousy that pierce his heart, it makes him feel evil, so won’t you come back and fix things if he looks at you with all the heartbreak he can muster? Won’t you come back to him?

Haku doesn’t mind, honestly. Sure, he might make a few comments about you and Subaru being close, and if you were perspective enough you could definitely pick up a bit of sadness from his words, but he’ll never be upfront about it. He’ll still tease you, flirt with you, say suggestive things just to get you wound up, but it’s not the same anymore. Not when you find your home at Subaru’s side, leaning into his during assemblies, leaving Haku’s side cold and empty.

Zenji thinks it’s beautiful, watching love bloom between you and Haku. It’s a new source of inspiration for him! You, and your beautiful eyes, your soft smiles, your bright laughter, and before he knows it his inspiration is only you. He feels guilty, confessing to Haku that he is finding so much creativity in you, and Haku is so easy and patient and kind to him. Zenji doesn’t think Haku gets it, but maybe he does. Maybe he does, and isn’t bringing it up for a reason. And so Zenji aches, showering you in compliments tenfold, being unable to hold all of his affection inside lest he burst.

Edward agrees that Rui is very helpful. You seem to praise him a lot, and such praise is deserved, even if Edward likes to act like he doesn’t recognize what Rui does around the dorm. It’s Rui who resets his YouTube password and fixes the WiFi when it’s down. It’s Rui who cleans up his room and makes those delicious drinks. And apparently, as you have been so kind to divulge to him, Rui is also very sweet to you, always giving you compliments and making you special drinks to suit your exact preferences. It’s interesting. Very interesting.

Rui playfully winces every time you shoot him down, saying that you’re spending time with Lyca today or that you’re eating lunch with Lyca or that Lyca invited you to go for a walk with him. Rui, to his credit, bites his tongue when you turn on your heel and leave him standing there. He loves the thrill of the chase, the allure of someone who plays hard to get, but he knows that isn’t what you are. You’re someone with romantic feelings for a guy that isn’t him.

Lyca is concerned, to say the least. Edward isn’t the type of man you should be hanging around! He’s old and dusty and a total flirt, which makes him all the more filthy in Lyca’s eyes. No, don’t hang off his every word with that smile of yours! Don’t praise him for being brave! Don’t help him to bed when he starts to cough, he’s faking it! Ugh, why don’t you ever listen to him anymore...? Lately that moth-eaten Casanova has been taking up all of your time, and Lyca really doesn’t like it...

Yuri’s brow is wrinkled with frustration that, for once, does not come from working his ass off for days on end. It comes from you, chattering away with Jiro and praising him for his accomplishments. It makes an ugly monster in Yuri’s stomach twist and he knows it’s jealousy, knows it’s bad for him and his research. He slams his hands on the table and commands that you leave in a fit of anger. You look startled, then upset, then you yell something back before storming from the room. He slumps down in his chair, head in his hand, and fights back the tears that follow.

Jiro doesn’t mind, honestly. He’s just there to help Yuri out wherever he can. It makes sense that you adore Yuri so much, he is really smart, just like you say. You tell him he’s pretty and Jiro watches Yuri fumble, cheeks turning pink. It makes Jiro smile, seeing Yuri so happy, even if he doesn’t quite understand why a small part of him feels upset. Maybe you should call him pretty too, and then that feeling will go away.

[thegnomelord]

Ancient Dreams in a Modern Land Ch: 1

CW: Canon typical violence, gore and violence, Canon alterations, GN reader for now, eventual Kim Dokja/reader/Yoo Joonghyuk, AO3

Summary: When you were a child, you learned two lessons. One of them, your parents had carved into your bones with tongues as sharp as swords: Some things will always be out of your control.

Perhaps this was why you had emersed yourself in fiction from a young age, because it allowed you to feel true freedom through the lives and struggles of the characters, to live out their happy endings even if your treacherous heart didn't allow one for yourself.

But those times were coming to an end.

Here you were, a foreigner in Seoul, one contract away from losing all you had worked to achieve. At times like this, you would wonder what the protagonists would do, what you would do in a lawless world like ORV, where the lessons you had learned would loose their meaning...

Could you reach your own happy ending? Or would you fail once again?

As they say; Be careful what you wish for.

It's funny how quickly life can fall to pieces.

Not even two weeks ago you had still been known as the choreographer and back up dancer of 'cODe X', a relatively underground kpop group quickly garnering mainstream popularity thanks in large part to your unique and 'chaotic' style of choreography meshing wonderfully with their abstract sense of music. And you were good at your job too; whether it was working from the shadows as their dance coach or on the main stage as a back up dancer, one thing was clear— you knew how to entertain.

Of course working for them hadn't been all sunshine and roses, as the many sleepless nights could attest. Frankly you had lost count how many times you had stayed late in the studio, chasing away fatigue with caffeine and prayers just so you could perfect a routine. Seeing as their boom in popularity and subsequent employment offer at a entertainment company had only happened a few months ago, the pay hadn't been the best either, but you didn't mind.

Hell, considering the bloodthirsty viper pit that was the Korean job market for foreigners, you were quite lucky to be working for them, and having to deal with their sleazy employer, than working one of the dirty, dangerous and demeaning jobs Korea would often offer to people like you...or worse: getting deported.

But your luck has run out.

Because some things will always be out of your control.

Now here you were; Sitting in a prestigious restaurant turned impromptu courtroom, where the judge was nowhere to be seen and the other costumers, like bought jurors, paid no attention to you or your plight. And why would they? Though you were the wronged party here, you sat at the table not as a victim deserving justice; But as the antagonist, as the villain.

Because the 'victim' had already won, and this farce was just for show.

...

Black beady eyes stared back at you through the glass as if it saw kinship between the two of you. But that was just your mind trying to console you; You knew that the only thought in the things' head was the instinctual drive to protect its unhatched young still stuck to its tail. It didn't even notice when one of it's kin was pulled out of the tank, leaving only two lobsters where once there had been three, just because someone had gotten hungry and decided they wanted grilled lobster tail.

You supposed you were no better than them, your life in the hands of someone else. Yet unlike the lobsters, who floated around the tank as they were still beneath the sea, you weren't ignorant to the powers that be...so why did that not make you feel any better?

A bottle of soju was placed on the table, tearing you away from your thoughts. You watched the waiter girl give a shallow bow and scamper off, turning your attention to the so called 'victim' of this mess.

Or you would have, if the damn copycat had actually showed up.

Instead of meeting the smug smirk of Juin, the bastard that had copied the choreography you had invented and performed step for step and then accused you of stealing his ideas, you were instead greeted by the best lawyer his daddy's money could afford; Although you hadn't paid enough attention to remember his name, the smile he had given you at the start of the negotiations would've made the devil proud.

You didn't have enough money to hire a snake like that, and going to court over this matter with your budget was out of the question. Hell, the only reason you had a competent lawyer of your own, instead of the one the entertainment company had tried to give you, was because he was a fan turned friend of yours.

"As I was saying," The lawyer cleared his throat. He was a short man and looked old enough to be mistaken for one of the Elders. "My client is happy to drop all charges provided your client issues a public apology and agrees not to sign any more choreography or dance specific contracts for the next four years." And just like the Elders, you couldn't underestimate him.

"Are you kidding me?" Choi Chin-Mae's bewildered voice pulled you out of your musings.

Chin-Mae was short even by Korean standards, and looked like a pipsqueak when next to you. His eternal baby face only complicated matters, with light brown hair and honey colored eyes he looked more like your little brother than a man one year away from being thirty and several years your senior. Because of his youthful appearance, people would underestimate him in the courtroom, and in doing so would unwittingly dig their own graves as Chin-Mae turned out to be a vicious lawyer when he could go before a judge.

"Non-competition agreements must be fair for the one sighing it, but what you are asking of my client is grossly abusive and would impair my client's livelihood and employment opportunities more than the common six month long NCA's." Chin-Mae argued. "And, I can't believe I have to say this, but you would know that such a contract is illegal and wouldn't be binding in any country, least of all ours."

Unfortunately, you couldn't go in front of a judge, even if the claims were baseless, the attorney and court fees would surely bankrupt you. It's the reason why you had agreed to try settling this outside of court.

The opposing lawyer smiled at Chin-Mae as if he was a child, "Mister Choi, my client isn't asking for them to sign an NCA."

You could see Chin-Mae narrow his eyebrows, his mouth opening to form a rebuttal, but no sound came out as the other lawyer held up his hand, taking a long sip of his soju. When he was done, he put the glass on the table, before speaking. "My client expects yours to do this on their own accord, without a signed NCA."

"That's preposterous," Chin-Mae scoffed, "No judge would allow that." He shot back, already beginning to form another reply when he was cut off again.

"Oh?" The lawyer asked, a smug smirk playing at the corners of his lip. "Then would your client like to go to court over this matter as we had originally intended and see what the judge decides?"

Chin-Mae closed his mouth, his lips pressed into into a thin line. You could see the gears in his head turning, struggling to come up with a rebuttal.

You sighed internally. As sad as it sounded, you were used to this; This disappointment and failure and powerlessness.

Maybe that was why you felt so calm at the moment...either that or the stress over the past few weeks had made you numb as a rock. Either way, Juin was richer and more influential than you, and with his daddy's money, you were certain that the populace would see you as the selfish copycat and the truth would be buried six feet deep where it could rot alongside your reputation.

Was this how the author of TWSA felt when SSSSSS-grade Infinite Regressor came out and became wildly popular?

"Of course, my client isn't heartless." You found that hard to believe, but held your tongue. "He is willing to offer a...different method to resolve this problem."

You and Chin-Mae glanced at one another, your friend only shrugging his shoulders as the other lawyer rifled trough his suitcase.

"Here we are," The lawyer pulled out a thick stack of papers bound together at the corner. You had to assume it was a contract, though even in the entertainment industry you had never seen a contract that was as thick as a Bible.

He placed it on the table, sliding it towards you. You only managed to read the first few lines, most of it meaningless lawyer lingo, before Chin-Mae snatched it and began reading through it, softly mumbling some legal jargons under his breath that you had no hopes of understanding.

"What is Juin offering?" You asked, far too tired or numb to call the copycat with any respect (not that he deserved any).

The lawyer didn't even bat an eye at your disrespect. "In short, the employer of my client is offering for you to come work under my client." He explained, taking another long sip of his drink. "You are remarkably talented for someone so young," He offered, the compliment wounding your pride more than any insult from your parents ever could. "It would be a shame to see it wasted for such a stupid mistake like the one you had made."

You narrowed your eyes, but otherwise were able to hold your poker face. "And my obligations if I signed it?"

Judging by the fact that Chin-Mae had grown as silent as the grave while reading the aforementioned contract, whatever was in store for you wasn't good.

"My client still expects a public apology for the damage you had caused to his reputation." The lawyer gave you an innocent smile, "You will also be required to terminate your previous contract with your current employer, but that one is obvious." He then began listing off even more conditions, from low wages to obscenely long work hours and even more draconian requirements.

It was little better than the slave contracts the 'cODe X' members had signed.

Chin-Mae echoed your sentiment, nearly frothing at the mouth as he slapped the contract on the table. Still, he was able to hold himself back from starting off his sentence with an insult. "The contract says nothing about their visa, how can we be sure you shi—"

Quick as a flash you elbowed him in the ribs, punching a pained sound out of him and cutting him off before he could say something stupid in the heat of anger. He glanced at you, before nodding his head and clearing his throat. "...Will the company provide continued renewals of my clients' work permit provided they sign the contract?"

The lawyer watched this all go down with amusement, but luckily didn't comment on your minor display of violence. "That is correct." He nodded his head, turning to look at you. "The entertainment organization has already prepared all the necessary documents on their end, barring your employment contract, which we are discussing at this moment." He motioned to the stack of papers sitting on the table.

Your friend grew silent, watching the old lawyer take a sip of soju, before he asked. "Is there room to negotiate the details of this contract? Multiple aspects and stipulations of this contract leave a legal grey area and the employer's expectations for my client aren't any clearer."

Or, in other words; it was legal on paper, and only on paper.

"I'm afraid not," The lawyer have you a sympathetic smile, though you were sure it was about as real as Juin's nose if the tabloids about his plastic surgeries were to be believed. "This is the only contract my client is willing to offer you...no alterations allowed." The old man leaned into his chair as he finished off his soju, motioning to the papers in front of you. "You can sign it now or you can meet my client in court and let the judge decide the outcome. What do you say?"

Oh, you had a lot to say, most of it unfit even for a PG18 audience.

To think that this bastard had framed you as a plagiarist, dragged your name and reputation through the mud, and was now aiming to squeeze what joy and creativity you had left in your soul like it was a wet rag...and he hadn't even bothered to show up in person to do so.

A dark voice, locked away deep in the caverns of your heart, whispered a seductive thought in your ear: Drown the lawyer in the lobster tank!

But you shouldn't, couldn't, do that.

Chin-Mae sagged in his chair, looking at you with a worry in his eyes. "What...what should we do?"

You frowned, what else was there for you?

You pulled the contract in front of you, flipping over to the last page. You reached into your pocket, fingers ghosting over cold metal as they went past it and grasped the dojang you carried around. At this point, the instinct to carry it around was no difference than the ingrained need to have sharp steel hidden in your pocket or boot.

"What other choices do we have?" You asked, the question rhetorical in nature.

"None that would be in your best interest." The lawyer helpfully informed you, pushing forward a small contained of red dojang ink. You were only slightly surprised they weren't asking you to sign the devil's contract with your own blood, though the irony of red ink wasn't lost on you.

The dojang hovered over the signature mark, the nerves you had locked away so well until now making themselves known through a slight tremor in your hands which only got worse the longer you hesitated. Oh, how you wanted to take matters into your own hands, like the protagonists of ORV or some other manga. Those heroes who could to push through their problems or fool the gods themselves, forging their own path with nothing but the strength in their arms and their wits...But fiction wasn't reality, and some things would always be out of your control.

If only you could change your future.

The lights cut out, plunging you in darkness.

A shiver raced down your spine, followed closely by a cold sense of wrongness.

"What's happening?"

"Must be a power outage, nothing to worry about."

"Well they better fix it quick, I haven't finished eating."

You paid no attention to the voices of the other restaurant goers, something at the back of your mind urging you to check your phone. Your hand was already reaching for it long before your brain had fully processed the thought. The light burned your eyes, but even that failed to garner your attention as your eyes settled on what resided on your home-screen:

You have 5 new messages from: tls123

The lights came back on, but you didn't put your phone down, instead quickly opening the messages.

tls123: I am sorry. We failed.

tls123: In truth, I don't know how this happened, but you are here now.

tls123: Maybe you can succeed where we failed.

tls123: This should help.

tls123: [Attached 2 files titled 'Three Ways to Survive in a Ruined World.TXT', 'Omnipresent Reader's Viewpoint.TXT']

You stared at your phone, unease and confusion bubbling in the pits of your stomach. Thoughts rolled around your head like tumbleweeds, forming questions which demanded answers you didn't have; Was this a joke? Was someone pranking you? It wasn't like bored teenagers never texted weird shit to random numbers, but they were never so specific.

On instinct you pressed the download button, before trying to type back a message. Only you couldn't; any letter you pressed would lag for a good five seconds if it even registered at all. Despite your best efforts, all you had typed out was an incomprehensive mess of letters. It seemed like your phone was using everything it had just to download those two files.

With a strange sense of deja vu, you checked the time on your phone — 7:02 p.m.

You couldn't tell what you felt at that moment; Anger? Sadness? Disappointment? Foolishness maybe?...This was real life, not fiction, what were you doing fooling yourself into thinking that it could be any different?

The call of your name from the lawyer had you switching off your phone and quickly putting it back in your pocket. "Yes, I'll sign it." You picked up the dojang, re-applying the ink. This time you only hesitated for a second before placing your seal on the dotted line, resigning yourself to your fate.

Then you heard a voice and you didn't even notice when you mouthed the words it said in sync with it:

[The free service of planetary system 8612 has been terminated]

[The main scenario has started]

You blinked rapidly before rubbing your eyes, wondering if you had finally lost what marbles you had left.

Then Chin-Mae muttered by your side, "Is that a...Dokkaebi?" Then a second later, under his breath. "I've got to cut back on that shit."

You whipped your head around quickly to look, forgetting to ask what that shit was as your ears began to ring, the dojang quietly slipping from your fingers at the sight you saw.

Floating in the center of the restaurant was a...a small furred creature, its off white fur contrasting with the tattered skirt/loincloth it had around its waist. Two budding horns sprouted from its head, like those of a little Billy goat.

"Wow, is this a new attraction?"

"It's kinda ugly looking."

The voices of others rang like church bells in your ears, yet they accomplished one significant thing — they proved that you hadn't gone insane just yet and that this thing was real.

As quick as you could you grabbed your phone, scrolling through your downloads until you found it: TWSA, all 3,149 chapters of it.

You scrolled through the chapters, only reading bits and pieces of it all as some part of you tried to prove to you that this was all just your imagination. You felt something at the back of your mind ding as you read through the chapters, lines you had seen in the ORV novel scattered among pages and pages of what had to be the original TWSA.

You looked up as the little creature tried to speak, but you already knew what would come out. Though it still surprised you how the language it spoke vaguely sounded like a bastardized version of your mother tongue.

['*#(w&$!*$!]

[#*@!%a!(*s(#!@#*&!]

"Hey, isn't that your language?" Chin-Mae asked, turning to look at you.

You shrugged one shoulder, no less confused than him. "If it is, that's the worst accent I've ever heard."

Then a few seconds later, you heard perfectly pronounced Korean leave the little creature's mouth. "I, I am really sorry everyone, the Korean patch wasn't...um working properly." It said, but something was strange;

Why did it look like that, you knew webtoon artists took some liberties but you were certain that the Dokkaebi from ORV was white with golden horns, not off-white with brown horns. And it certainly hadn't been as polite, and was this really how it sounded in real life?

The little creature cleared its throat. "Now...May I have everyone’s attention, I, I have big important news!” It tried to sound commanding by raising his voice, but either because of fear or stage-fright it failed to garner the attention it wanted.

"Do you think they sell plushies like that?"

"Do you really think the girls would like it?"

"Mommy I want one! I promise I'll take good care of it and feed it, and walk it, and pick up after it!"

You had no idea how that was possible, but parts of the Dokkaebi's fur turned pinkish red almost like it was flushed from embarrassment. "I, uh-I mean-mhh!" It flinched suddenly as if hit by some unseen force. It turned into itself slightly, a small galaxy appearing in its hands. "My...My apologies d-dear constellations! I-I, uh...I will begin right now!"

With that you saw its horns elongate, becoming almost as big as the rest of its body.

A shiver raced down your spine, blood roaring in your ears.

You knew what would happen.

"This is stupid." The lawyer muttered, standing and quickly grabbing the contract you had all but forgotten about. "I am afraid I am unable to stay to this childish theatric, until next time we meet."

Chin-Mae flinched, pushing his chair back as he began to stand up to stop the lawyer. "Now wait a minute we aren't fini-"

Quick as lighting you reached out and grabbed him by the shoulder before roughly pushing him back down, your fingers digging into his shoulder with a level of savagery and roughness he didn't think you possessed. Any protests he tried to make were silenced by your palm quickly being pressed over his mouth, not letting a single sound escape him. You pushed his head to look at you, your fingers digging into his cheek and jaw hard enough to leave bruises.

He grabbed your wrist, trying to pull your hand away, only to freeze in place when his eyes met yours.

You didn't think you wanted to know what he saw in them. 

'Don't. Move' You mouthed to him, not even a whisper escaping your lips.

[I need you to listen to me!]

A shot rang through-

Then the screaming began.

Several more shots rang out-.

The screams stopped as multiple heavy objects hit the ground.

A leg landed on your table, spraying you with blood.

Your palm muffled what pathetic noises Chin-Mae made, his trembling hands gripping your sleeve in a bruising grip.

Though your iron-like grip on his mouth kept Chin-Mae looking at you, his pulse thump thump thumping like a war drum beneath your fingers, you couldn't stop yourself from looking.

It was like a car crash, you couldn't look away. Your eyes wandered around, unable to settle on one specific thing; From the sight of blood stained immaculate floor, to the multiple limbs scattered around the place like morbid decorations, to the bodies of those who had tried to run laying on the floor. They were surprisingly still alive, writing soundlessly as they tried to stop the bleeding. You glanced at where the lawyer had gone to, only to find him alive with a missing leg.

[I..Did I do good? Yes?]

Slowly, you let go of Chin-Mae's shoulder, motioning for him to stay quiet with your hand. You waited until he nodded, before pulling away your palm from his mouth, his hands still gripping your forearm.

His chest rose to hiccup and you were prepared to slam your hand back over his mouth...but he held it it, biting his lip hard enough to make it bleed. A stray tear slowly rolled down his cheek, his trembling hands bound to leave bruises on your arm.

[Then, I-]

The Dokkaebi coughed, its voice returning to normal. "I have to inform you that...that the free service of this planetary system has ended. As of right now you will have to pay for your lives." It looked up, as if listening to someone.

Evidently it wasn't something nice, as a moment later it visibly flinched into itself, almost hugging the galaxy to its chest. "Ri-right, we are already behind schedule!" It began fumbling with something in the galaxy you couldn't see, sweat condensing on its fur in visible drops.

You blinked, a small window emerging in front of your eyes.

[The main scenario has arrived!]

[Main Scenario #1 — Proof of Value]

Category: Main

Difficulty: F

Clear Conditions: Kill one or more living creatures

Time Limit: 30 minutes

Compensation: 300 coins

Failure: Death

You stared at the screen before raising your head enough so you could look around with just your eyes, your thoughts running a mile a minute. Not a single person dared to move a muscle, afraid that doing so would draw the furry fairy's wrath even when the game had already started. You knew you had to be careful too, you weren't the protagonist of TWSA or ORV, and without any powers the information you possessed would only take you so far.

Wait...attributes!

Quietly you whispered 'Attribute Window' under your breath, half expecting to be met with an error message.

Only you didn't receive anything at all.

What?

Turning on your phone once again you scrolled through TWSA, a shiver racing down your spine as you found yourself reading through nearly ten chapters in less than a minute. Then you quickly switched over to ORV, hoping to find something or for something to happen when you read it, though you were unsure how much this information would help you considering you weren't in a train car. But it had worked for Dokja, and you had read it as well...so why wasn't it working for you?

[The Dokkaebi smiled faintly as it became transparent and disappeared into the next space.]

You glanced up at the Dokkaebi. It was still floating in the air, watching the people in the restaurant as if they were the predator and it was the prey. Why? Surely it knew how much power it had over you? And why hadn't it disappeared after giving the announcement? Bihyung had done that in ORV...wait!

You nearly facepalmed, this wasn't Bihyung! It only took you a few seconds to scroll through ORV before you found the creature most resembling the one in front of you: Youngki, the low-level Dokkaebi who took over when Bihyung had been busy. When he had first appeared he didn't know how to show messages; it would make sense why you weren't getting any notifications, he probably didn't know how to turn them on.

But why wasn't Bihyung here? Wasn't he the one streaming in Seoul?

You would have to search for answers to those questions later, right now you had to survive.

You checked the clock, only a single minute had passed, yet you knew if you didn't do something you wouldn't have much time left. In ORV Youngki was a pushover, and now that you had TWSA, you had a better chance of making a deal with him like Dokja had made with Bihyung. And more importantly, you knew how this game worked.

You wouldn't survive playing by the house's rules.

You glanced at the lobster tank, the water had been dyed a scarlet red as the two lobster munched on some unfortunate person's arm.

Then you looked around at the people, every single one of them frozen stock still like statues. Without someone to spark the fear in their hearts to make them act, they would all die. You doubted there were any chuuni in the restaurant to incite the violence as there had been in the train...If you didn't act, you would be no better than them, but could you live with yourself after knowingly sentencing these people to death? How would that make you any better than the monsters or the constellations?

Chin-Mae's trembling pulled you out of your thoughts. Though his hands still clutched your arm like a lifeline and he stared off into space beyond you, the look in his eye told you that it wasn't fear that made his arms shake, but rage.

You made up your mind.

People would die regardless, but in this apocalypse only those willing to fight had a chance of survival.

"Chin-Mae, listen to me." You gently slapped his cheek, cursing to yourself when he continued to stare past you into oblivion, consumed by whatever war was happening in his head. "This is a bad situation, but if you want to see Junior again, you have to listen to me." You hissed, and that got his attention better than a kick in the balls could.

Was it manipulative to use her against Chin-Mae? Maybe, but what choice did you have?

"Really?" Chin-Mae asked, voice barely above a whisper.

You hummed instead of answering and pointed to the lobster tank. "See that?"

He followed your finger with his eyes and nodded when he saw the unlucky crustaceans. You asked him to look at the scenario conditions again, and you could clearly see him reach the same conclusion you had; it never said the living thing had to be human.

You quickly told him your plan in hushed whispers, "Do you understand?" You asked as you pulled your other hand away from him, his fingers lingering on the fabric of your clothes before he let go.

"Ye-Yes." You nodded as he answered, before reaching down to your boot. You grasped the handle before quickly pulling out the knife hidden there, offering it to Chin-Mae.

"Huh?!" Chin-Mae sputtered as he looked at the blade, the metal glinting under the restaurant's lights. "Why-uh...why do you have this?"

You shrugged your shoulder; Now wasn't the time to delve into your skeleton stuffed closet just to answer that question. "I'll tell you later, now shh." You shushed him and urged him to concentrate on the plan, waiting for him to nod in confirmation before you stood up, one hand reaching into your pocket to feel the comforting cold steel of a second blade hidden there.

You felt something at the back your mind tingle, but it disappeared before you could figure out what it was.

Taking a final moment to prepare yourself mentally, you began walking towards the furry fairy. You passed the old lawyer on your way towards it, his silent begging for help with his eyes amusing some dark part of you. Any good person would have tried to help...But you had to concentrate on the living.

After all, you couldn't turn back time, you only had one shot at this.

"Hey, fluffy!" You called, garnering the attention of every pair of eyes in the room, coming to stand as close to the floating creature as you could while still keeping a safe distance.

"Huh, whah?!" It turned around so quick you were surprised it's neck didn't snap. "Are yo-ah- are you talking to me?"

Were there any other furry fairies around? You wondered to yourself, but you quickly realized you had said that out loud as dusty pink patches quickly spread all over his body. "Say," You quickly began, hoping a change of topic would cover up your verbal blunder. "You're new to this streamer business, no?"

Your words made the Dokkaebi jump so hard his horns nearly touched the ceiling. "Wha-how-why-how do you-" He sputtered as he flew down to be right in front of you, the galaxy clutched tightly to his chest like he was a child with a toy.

You couldn't hold back a snort at that thought, quickly waving off Youngki's confused questions. "Well for one, you haven't enabled notifications and messages." You informed him, "I'm certain the constellations would like for us to know what they have to say." You added, aiming to light a small fire under his ass.

The dusty pink patches on Youngki's fur became dark red as he fumbled around with the miniature galaxy in his hands, "I, I, I am so sorry- I" You could see several stars in the miniature galaxy blinking in sync, as if laughing at the pint sized pipsqueak as he stuttered out more apologies, flushing an even deeper shade of red as he realized he didn't know how to do it.

"The 'on' button should be somewhere around...there." You tried to help him, motioning with your hand vaguely to the center of the galaxy in his hand as you recalled reading something about it in TWSA.

After a few moments he seemed to have gotten it working, a low sound of accomplishment leaving him as messages began popping up.

A sharp pain bloomed behind your eyes. You groaned and clutched your head, willing your eyes to stay open as message after message appeared before you. The novels never mentioned anything about the messages making your head hurt...

[#Yo-7623 channel is open]

[The constellations have entered]

[Your reading speed has increased due to the effect of the exclusive attribute '?????']

[You can't activate the Attribute Window]

[Exclusive skill, 'From the Shadows Lv. 1' has been activated in the background]

[You are one step closer to the conditions to use the exclusive skill '????? Lv. ?']

[You are close to the conditions to use the exclusive skill 'Genesis Lv. 1']

[Several Constellations laugh at the Dokkaebi 'Youngki']

[Several Constellations are curious about you]

You waved away the messages with an irritated sound leaving you, the pain behind your eyes disappearing as soon as you did so. You would have to look at those later.

Shaking your head to chase away the lingering pain you turned back to look at Youngki, who was now looking at you with apprehension. "Now then," You began, "Do you what's the fastest killer of infant streams like yours?"

Youngki shook his head like a little kid and floated just a bit closer to you, staring at you as if you had all the answers to the universe, the galaxy still held close to his chest.

"Boredom." You spoke innocently, "Now, I don't know about the constellations, but no sponsor of mine would ever wait half an hour for nothing interesting to happen." You explained, putting your other hand into your pocket, the very embodiment of nonchalance. "Matter of fact, they'd be gone after ten minutes and wouldn't waste their time with you ever again." Something dark inside you found it amusing how the Dokkaebi's face grew more and more horrified as you continued to speak.

[The constellation who likes to change gender nods at your words]

The message scared the little guy even more than your words had; you were certain he would've had a heart attack the moment the message had appeared if he could.

"Fortunately for you, I'm something of an entertainer myself." The devil himself would have been jealous of the charming smile you gave Youngki, "So, how would the mighty constellations like raise the stakes?"

You were playing a dangerous game; like Russian roulette, only the constellations didn't need a gun, bullets, or a kick in the ass from lady luck to cut your life short. You couldn't make any mistakes, after all, there was no way to rewind time.

[You are one step away from being able to use the exclusive skill 'Genesis Lv. 1']

[Several constellations want you to elaborate]

"It's simple really," You shrugged. "A Constellation may choose to take off three minutes off the clock, in exchange for say...a 100 coins added to the overall reward." You explained, adding that the overall time left couldn't be less that 3 minutes, you were human after all.

[Several constellations look at one another]

"Or don't." You shrugged, pulling your hands out of your pockets, the hidden switch blade grasped tightly in your closed fist. "There's no shame in admitting you are afraid to lose your money~" You teased—

[The constellation who likes to change gender laughs at your boldness]

— It was the boldest, and dumbest, thing you could have ever done.

[A constellation has agreed to your terms]

Fortunately for you, fortune favored the bold.

[The time limit has been reduced: 27:24 → 24:24]

[The Compensation has been increased: 300 → 400 coins]

You smirked to yourself, but the smirk fell quickly when a different message popped up.

[The clear conditions have been changed: Kill TWO or more living creatures]

You cursed to yourself. You had known this might happen, yet you still hadn't expected it; a stray line in TWSA echoed in your mind as if to mock you: [The thrill seekers will always ask for more death]

That last message was like a fatal crack in the dam, and soon many more messages flooded your vision, pain blooming in your head as you watched the time rapidly decrease as the compensation increased and clear conditions changed. The other people watched you with growing worry and horror, yet even this wasn't enough to spark their survival instincts into action.

By the end of it, the compensation had risen to 900 coins, the time had decreased to just 9 minutes and 20 seconds, and the kill requirement had risen to 6 or more.

You hummed as you stared at the holographic screen deep in thought. You should temper your greed, yet as you looked up at the Dokkaebi, your eyes positively glinting, you knew you couldn't resist the tempting pull of fooling the 'Divine'.

"You know, if you wanted to make this even more interesting..." You paused, before shaking your head in an exaggerated motion. "No," You waved your hand dismissively, turning on your heel. "I don't think you could afford it."

You were only able to take a single step before the furry fairy had zoomed around to face you at the speed of light, stuttering out pleas to stop. A message from the, no doubt irritated, constellations popped up, only to be waved away without being read. "What?" You asked innocently, a new message appearing before your eyes.

[Some constellations are insulted, and wish to know your offer]

"Double the rewards and you can half the current time by half." You said, before quickly adding. "Without increasing the amount of creatures we have to kill, there are only so many people here." You waved your hand around in a vague gesture. "I swear to you, this will cause quite the commotion, and wouldn't that be entertaining?"

Right as you asked, a holographic video feed popped in the center of the restaurant, screams filling the silent restaurant, showing people killing each other all over the country.

[Die! Die!]

[No, please!]

[Don't hurt me!]

You could tell the specific moment when every single person figured out what you were doing. The collective fear in the restaurant so strong you could feel it on your tongue as you breathed. "So, what do you say?" You asked as if you didn't notice anything, looking up at the small Dokkeabi.

[Multiple constellations consider you a fool]

"Maybe I am," You admitted, "But fools make for great stories."

Your nonchalant answer seemed to shock the people into finding their own. Almost immediately after you had finished people began shouting:

"Don't listen to them!"

"Damn brat do you want us all killed!"

"Please spare me!"

"I don't want this!"

[The constellations accept your offer]

You didn't even wait for the next pop up windows to open, "Chin-Mae, now!" You ordered, your voice silencing all others. Something inside your skull shuddered, a thought that didn't belong to you whispering in your ears:

[The exclusive skill 'From the Shadows Lv. 1' has finished preparing, execute?]

Yes.

[The exclusive skill 'From the Shadows Lv. 1' has been executed]

A shiver raced down your spine, you could feel it in your bones, like something in the bedrock of the world had snapped.

A second later something black flew towards you. You just barely managed to catch it, slamming it violently on to the table, black sludge exploding over your hand, clothes and the people seated there.

...

[You have achieved the ‘First Kill’ achievement!]

[You have killed a living creature]

[100 coins have been earned as additional compensation.]

[You have killed a living creature]

[100 coins have been earned as additional compensation.]

...

Message upon message appeared before your eyes, you were quick to wave them all away before they made you head explode. You stepped back, the seated patrons staring at the crushed lobster eggs staining the tablecloth before looking up at you in bewilderment.

[Several constellations are displeased]

"Oh don't be like that," You rolled your eyes, holding up your hand, still stained black from lobster caviar. "The rules never stated that I had to kill humans, and lobster eggs are living creatures." You wiped off the black sludge staining your hand on the less noticeable portion of your clothes, knowing you would need to find a change of clothes after the scenario was over; blood and lobster sludge did not look good on you. "It isn't my fault you left the rules so vague."

[The constellation ‘Children of Mischief and Chaos’ are impressed by your scheme]

[The constellation who likes to change gender is impressed by your wit]

By mere chance you glanced to your side, only to see Chin-Mae standing in front of the lobster tank, the female lobster wriggling in his hold as it tried to protect the valuable eggs held under her tail. His other hand held the eggs, yet you could see it shaking, all of his attention concentrated on the videos of slaughter that were still playing above you.

"Chin-Mae, you moron, destroy tho!-"

You slapped your palm over your mouth as soon as your voice had registered in your brain, but it was in vain.

Every single person turned to Chin-Mae, ready to descend upon him like rabid dogs.

What have you done...

"Get him!"

[The constellations laugh at you]

[doodgiee]

Character lineup of prominant kids in a Riddle School project I've been working on for a long time.

Think I'm going to start calling it Riddle Transferred? Because they're all grown up, they've made the transfer

There's much more to come, but you're allowed this taster.

Canon:

Phil Eggtree: The Phil Eggtree we all know and love, however the guilt and stress of his dream murdering and double abduction have been haunting him.

Phred Whistler: His a little worn and worse for wear, but ever since seeing Phil save the world he's been inspired to live life to the fullest instead of just letting life take him wherever. He's far more motivated than his younger self

Smiley Sundae: With increased pressure with her studies, Smiley's trademark Smile has faded slightly over the years. Her underlying but constant struggle in academic fields has made her question her path for the future, but she'll still lighten up anyone's day with that heart of gold

Zack Kelvin: Despite still learning to deal with his peculiar temperature issues, especially with puberty taking a toll on it, He's definitely become more social after having the opportunity to express himself more without freezing to death. But still lacks crucial social cues. His friends are still helping him with that.

Richy Stud: This pushover has joined the main gang and have been a part of it for a while, serving as the social bridge between the core 4 and the B team of the Riddle Elementary kids he doesn't know them quite as well but still serves as a friendly face. And yes, he collects buttons

Chubb Munch: A gentle giant with a heart of gold. He'll always be a bigger guy comapred to most people, and frankly it never bothered him anyway. But since he vowed to work on his diet his life has never been better

5 08: A little arrogant, but with how charismatic he is it's hard to blame him. His shirt sales have been steady and it serves as more of a hobby than anything else. On good terms with Richy and Phil specifically. He considers Phil his best customer.

Greg Sleep: He's always been a bit distant from his friends, but in all fairness, he's asleep 90% of the time. He remains a bit of an enigma

Joe Kerosene: With his history with the Riddle gang being a rocky middle school life, Joe's not exactly friendly with many of the people he grew up with. He and Phil don't get along at all. Phil considers him an idiot and Joe considers him a snarky prick. He's found company with other people, but he may have bit off more than he can chew

OCs:

Null Rooster-Lea: One of Joe's new 'friends' he's distant, and never seen without a scowl on his face. He's cold, and its better not to cross him

Rodrigo Cwesschyn: Another one of Joe's new friends. He's the son of ex elementary principle Mr. Cwesschyn. Ever since his father has been imprisoned for injuring students, Rodrigo has had to become the man of the house for his mother and siblings. He blames the students that attended Riddle Elementary for his unsteady life.

Cassie Pants: Another part of Joe's group, she's bratty and enjoys messing with people she's directed towards, but she doesn't hold any ill will unlike her friends. She's just a pest, not evil.

Franky Pants: The older brother of Cassie, he isn't interested in the antics and rivalries her little sister gets up to, that's her life to lead. He's pretty friendly, but remains neutral to our protagonists. He just wished his sister made some nicer friends

Kath Penilian : A university student, far removed from the happenings at Riddle High, She's good friends with Richy, meeting over the niche hobby of button collecting. She serves as a friendly, older friend of the Riddle gang, being able to offer an ear to listen and a bit of wisdom.

[delta-drawsarts]

Opinions on Undertale Characters? [Yes that includes the Yellow ones... for obvious reasons]

Love them. Toby Fox did a masterpiece of writing Undertale and Mastersword did a phenomenal job making a prequel that made me cry at the Pacifist ending. And he did such a banger job at writing Flowey's character before the events of canon Undertale.

Though I do see some flaws in some characters. Toriel left Asgore, and her kingdom after war was declared on humanity from the deaths of her children. Instead of taking action to prevent this, she fled like a coward. And what's worse, where she could've accompanied the fallen children, she just left them to go out and die, knowing they didn't stand a chance against the Monsters of the Underground. In a way, she isn't any better than Asgore since she was indirectly responsible for those kids deaths.

Asgore never wanted war, he regretted his decree after his anger had simmered down. His children are gone, his wife left him, and now he has burdened his people with war, even if they hold onto hope of seeing the sun again. And it makes me wonder... What would have happened if he did acquire all 7 human souls? Would he have gone through with it?

For Undertale Yellow, my biggest issue is how Ceroba and Chujin's relationship is portrayed and its downfall. Chujin was an engineer, and probably a good one for that matter (With the space heater at the Honeydew Resort and possibly the filter in the Oasis?) but when making Axis he overlooked casualties. He let his ego think what he made was perfect, and that costed him his job. And instead of being honest with his wife, the person he should TRUST the most to confine to, he lied. Said he retired. And then blows all their savings to make a huge house. Ceroba had to take a job she hated while he traveled around the Underground. And his grudge against humans and his fear that if another one fell it'd be worse than the Snowdin Attack, he experimented with things he could not understand. And he withered away day by day, and on his death bed he burdens his wife to carry on his legacy. A legacy she had NO idea about, and quite frankly how was she suppose to? She didn't have the smarts like him.

Ceroba was so blindsided that her husband was perfect in every way, that whatever he did was for the benefit of Monsterkind. Serums can't make a Monster stronger, we've seen this with the DT and Integrity substances being put into Monsters. The only way for someone to be stronger from a human soul is to absorb it, not extract from it. Though that could likely mean two people would be at the steering wheel, human and monster, and it could be disastrous.

I'm not saying Ceroba's a bad mom when she used the serum on her daughter. It was a desperate act to fulfill Chujin's legacy, and despite his wishes to keep Kanako out of it, she gave in when she pleaded for her mom to inject her with it.

The contrast between the Dreemurs and Ketsukane families are just that: Mistakes that their children pay for. Asgore burdens himself and his people with war. Chujin burdens Ceroba with his legacy. Toriel thinks she's good by protecting the children who fall, but ultimately their blood is on her hands regardless. Ceroba believes what she does in UTY is for the benefit of Monsterkind, but it only hurts the people she cares about.

Chara was pressured to be the hope of Monsterkind, willing them to have their brother take their soul and retrieve more souls only for it to fail horribly, and thus they both perish. Kanako was the same, wanting to be used for a untested serum so she could help Monsterkind, only for it to make her fall down and eventually turn into an Amalgamate.

PHEW! Jeez, I really rambled on there didn't I?

[emblematicae]

VALEDICTORIAN, EGO TE PROVOCO: PROLOGUE

Tom Marvolo Riddle x Female Reader

Content Warnings: 1940’s Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, predominantly written in the third-person limited perspective of Tom Riddle, intentional minimal use of Reader’s perspective, canon-divergence, canon-typical violence; possessive, obsessive, and emotionally manipulative behavior, emotional abuse, first-degree murder, voluntary manslaughter, abuse of power and authority, complicity, coercion, petty thievery, reoccurring themes of death and acceptance, childhood friends, unhealthy relationship dynamics, one-sided rivalry, jealousy, limerence, chronic illness, hallucinations, ghosts, mental instability, morally grey reader, Tom Riddle is his own warning.

CONTENTS NEXT CHAPTER

Acceptance was an absurd notion that held little to no weight in the mind of Tom Riddle. Its insignificance was only exemplified by his cross disposition with the other children at the orphanage, whom he direly wished to be acknowledged as completely and wholly different from (even if this was an unspoken desire) and something he knew well of ever since he could even form his first thought. Furthermore, his clear stance on the subject did not need to be spoken about with words as he took long, languid paces throughout the never-ending corridors of the otherwise empty and grim facility. No doubt having been told off by Mrs. Cole after another unsightly, though easily plausible, incident involving another child.

The tell-tale signs lay on his wrist, which burned with an ugly, inflamed red where the matron had held onto it with vice-like talons, all as a means of having to forcefully separate him from another boy of an unforgettable name that Tom frankly did not care about. Hardly did it matter considering the other orphan was worse for wear than Tom was, though it did not particularly help his case or plead any sort of innocence for him. Not that he would ever be perceived as innocent to begin with.

The unpleasant truth still stood, and the housemother was painfully aware that disciplining Tom was a futile effort. He would be forgiven—not that he ever apologized in the first place—his relationship with the other orphans would continue to strain, and he would let a few calming days pass to alleviate the tension, only to predictably repeat the vicious cycle after he believed too many of his buttons were being pushed (or as he deemed fit). But Mrs. Cole had no other choice, and she was far overdue with exhausting the civil alternatives. There were no recourses, except for one that even she did not have the heart for: exile, or more fittingly, banishment for young Riddle. To avoid such a dilemma, she had reluctantly started accepting this would simply be how it was from now on.

The ordeal led him from the bustling outdoors where the rest of the children were enjoying themselves, through the empty foyer, and up to the second story where he was now loitering about in the dreary hallways of Wool’s Orphanage’s unwelcoming walls. If he behaved, Tom could have busied himself underneath the shallow rays of the sun, tossing a worn-out toy ball back and forth with the other boys. If he had played nicely, Tom could have made good company with the other girls, chatting about anything nonsensical to keep busy while sitting on the swing set with them. But he didn’t because Tom did not care. He was not privy to wasting his free time to partake in such menial and frivolous activities, let alone share his precious time with anyone else. A true recluse who much preferred to devote himself to reading in the dingy, sad excuse of a library the institute had to offer. Tom had surely burned through all the books there, though there were necessary re-reads as even he could not fully understand certain words quite yet, no matter how determined he was.

As he silently mused to himself, Tom found it was only a few more paces before he was to reach his destination. His room was at the end of the upper floor’s hall, forlorn and forgotten about. It was easy for him to slip away into the darkest shadows of room 27 unnoticed, like some disgusting pest that was uncared for and unloved, which wasn’t necessarily far from the truth. But to get there he would have to pass another room. This one he was rather familiar with, though he himself had never entered nor dared to step an intruding foot inside of. But Tom did not need to waste his breath trespassing into a chamber that was not his as he had already known the little area quite intimately.

It was the same as every other bedroom inside the orphanage, dull and lifeless with a sheer absence of any unique or noteworthy furnishings, save for the essential metal-framed cot, wooden desk with its matching chair, and slim cupboard that could narrowly house a pair of shoes. Simple deductive reasoning could tell him this much, as this was a commonality amongst the other children—even Tom’s drab, little room resembled this one almost identically. But unlike the other rooms on the second floor that had the doors to their sacred privacy closed (undeniably because of their distrust for him specifically) this one was always left open, and welcome to visitors of any kind due to the loneliness that seeped from inside.

It belonged to you, another orphan amongst the older children, as it happens you were the eldest one. Only a measly one year Tom’s senior if he recalled correctly, though it felt like two given his late birthdate. And as a result of being more mature than the rest of the lot, all the children have grown to adore you. They depend on you to a certain extent, and in turn, you are eager to help guide them. You play and entertain them, reading aloud snippets of picture books to keep them occupied. You dress the young ones who are too uncoordinated to do so themselves and clean after the messes they leave in their destructive wake. You ensure the happiness of the other orphans, and for that they love you.

It is difficult not to pay any heed to this, even if your new appearance meant nothing would change for Tom. The boys continued to avoid him at all costs, and the girls fled in fear when he came around. Well, perhaps there was one change because instead of tucking their tails between their legs and running away after being caught red-handed engaging in fights with him, if only to defend themselves from his instigations, the boys would stutter out disingenuous apologies and play dumb. They scurried to you to prove their innocence, as if the thought of disappointing you was too much for them to bear; as if your opinion was the absolute truth and law, and failure to impress would lead to severe punishment. And the girls were no better, they flocked to you like you were their saving grace in pure-white robes when they would mysteriously come back with little cuts and bruises after spending too much time in his vicinity. You always patched them up, each as good as new. Tom could see that untouchable halo of yours and it sickened him.

That is why he didn’t find it a shame that you frequented the dismal flat due to your inexplicably ill nature and poor health. Although your condition was not akin to chicken pox or a common cold, it was persistent, something chronic—a concept many of the other kids could not grasp whenever Mrs. Could had to solemnly explain your absence from the usual playtime, or throughout the entire day altogether. When you were not appointed to supervise the younger children, you were held as a captive here like it was a prison of solitary confinement. Bedridden, and in low spirits. On the occasion you felt exceptionally unwell, you would spend the night in the underdeveloped infirmary on the first floor. And by the early morning you would have miraculously been brought back up to the second story, tucked back into your bed as if nothing had changed. Not that Tom was keeping track of all of this. He only knew as much because even the slightest disturbance caused him to wake, and hearing either Mrs. Cole or another faculty member carry your peacefully unconscious body to your bedroom was enough to interrupt his rest.

As Tom neared, he purposefully sidestepped to evade the warm light that was seeping in from your window and leaking onto the floor of the hallway. It was a useless maneuver to put such thought behind, but Tom did not fancy being caught today. Not that you ever did notice him when he did pass by as he was far too masterful in the fine art of walking around silently. It was an eerie behavior of his that was surprisingly unintentional, though fitting and something he saw as useful. Tom had a reputation for startling and sneaking up on the other unsuspecting children by merely moving around from one place to another. Even the staff were unguarded when it came to his sauntering about.

And as Tom was close to passing your room entirely, a flickering silhouette pervaded the illuminated floor beneath his feet. Tom halted momentarily, carefully observing the shadow cast by who he assumed was none other than yourself. His gaze slowly trailed upward, but by now from where he stood he was too far away to see anything meaningful inside, just the wooden doorframe. And so, Tom decided to step back and take a peek inside. It was purely by chance, an itching curiosity that needed to be quenched (or so he reasoned), and he witnessed something the normal children would call spectacular.

You were sitting upright on your bed, leaning against a threadbare pillow to support your back, and tucked beneath the covers of the thin, fabric blankets with only your upper body and forearms resting above it. Your hands were clasped together and fingers nicely intertwined, appearing modest and polite even when no eyes were there to watch you. A calm expression graced your features, nothing out of the ordinary as Tom could not recount a time where you had a single misplaced element to your guise. But you were concentrated, eyebrows only slightly furrowed though not with frustration but something else, determination perhaps. After exactly sixty seconds passed, you weakly lifted your dominant hand into the air and reached out with anticipation for something. Listlessly you kept your arm suspended, even though it was obvious you felt strained to do so.

Tom blinked once, then twice, and before he could turn away and feel the regret grow for frittering away at his time by doltishly observing you, your fingertips were met with a thin, flimsy diary. It floated toward you, or rather, you commanded it to float toward you until just within your grasp. The edge of the leatherback notebook grazed your fingers, and you lifted your other hand to delicately hold it from the underside as it was being hovered in midair. Once both of your hands had found purchase on it, the diary abruptly fell with the pull of gravity that it had been defying only seconds ago, and you lowered it into your lap.

Tom’s dark, cynical eyes widened if only a fraction at the scene that unfolded before him. And then, you turned your head to the only entry your tiny bedroom offered, making direct eye contact with him. There was no definitive way you could have possibly known he was there, and Tom was no believer in sixth senses belonging to those who were ordinary... lest you felt his presence through unimaginable and unfathomable means.

Arguably the worst of it all—you smiled. It never did meet your tired eyes. But it was an equally knowing smile as much as it was something else entirely, something Tom could not read. As if you were aware from the start that he would have been there, coincidentally at the right place and right time. As if you wanted him to witness what you had done. A performance any of the other children would be absolutely bewildered to see firsthand, one that would invoke a deep feeling of both terror and astonishment, one he had become accustomed to being on the receiving end by now. But your grin did not seem to be one of overinflated self-satisfaction, a pleased maybe, but conceited? Tom thought not. It was the everyday smile you had pinned to your lips, it was good enough to fool the naïve orphans and the mundane adults, but Tom knew better than that.

He swiftly turned his heel and continued past your bedroom to get to his own, not sparing you another glance.

© 2025 emblematicae all rights reserved

[solitaire-addict]

A deep dive into Solitaire, its Characters and Relationships

Solitaire is a deep, complex and entertaining book. Once opened, it becomes very hard to put down and it is the type of book you would read multiple times, listen to the audiobook version, and create a blog fully dedicated to. Solitaire has that kind of seasonal feel like when it snows for the first time and your feet are cold no matter how many blankets you put on or you’re nose keeps running because you’re outside waiting for someone to come pick you up and you’re putting your hands in fists because they might just freeze off. Solitaire isn't romanticized winter, it's the gross parts that make people hate the cold seasons but you still like them because it still has a nice feeling to it, even though it may be the end of you. Personally I have read solitaire in every season but Solitaire can't be beat in January, when everyone is stupid depressed and there isn't a point to living anymore.

 Victoria (Tori) Spring portrays this deep depression and bitter feeling that everyone feels at some point and she is the embodiment of the term “pessimistic complex”. While being a relatable character to everyone, I've found that she really strikes a chord with the Asexual/Aromantic community. In recent events, it has become canon that she is Asexual and most suspect she is on the Aromantic spectrum which seems reasonable due to her behavior around one Micheal Holden. Micheal Holden, who is Tori’s friend and co-investigator in the Solitaire mystery, is (at first glance) an upbeat and strange character. Micheal holds the role of curious, and a bit mysterious and his and Tori’s friendship forms from the fact that they both got curious and did the exact same thing. In many ways, these two are very similar and when thrown together by some force, Tori ignores this and uses some freakish defense mechanism that (to anyone else) would drive away the opposing force, however, Micheal is not an opposing force, or any kind of force for that matter. He’s just a guy who happens to be a little strange and who ice skates and is secretly mad all the time. When Tori and Micheal first interact, Tori does not in any way want to talk to this guy, in fact i bet she would rather have thrown herself out the nearest window than exchange more than two sentences at once. Michel wants to be friends with Tori, so much so that he will not stop showing up out of nowhere even if he doesn't mean to. Keep in mind that Micheal has no friends and Tori has one friend and that isn't even going well.

 Becky (who has been Tori’s best and only friend for quite a while) is popular. Not in the sense that everyone knows her, more so that everyone knows of her and a couple extending details, this leaves her feeling alone in the world and her only support is Tori, who frankly, is not doing well in the slightest. And of course they’re drifting, not quickly but over time, like a call that gets worse in audio quality over time. When Becky seeks support from Tori and wants to share things with her, Tori is disengaged, I'm sure she doesn't mean it but that still sucks when you’re the one who needs to talk. There are many versions of the book and in the first one when Becky tells Tori that she just had sex with her almost boyfriend. Tori is disappointed, she even goes on to say that it made her respect Becky more for being a virgin up until now. Now remember that the first addition of this book was released in the early 2010’s so it's a bit desensitized and there are probably better words to put it other than not respecting her as much anymore but it's still a good example of Tori’s distance and self isolation from the rest of her public life, which brings us back to her relatable self destructive tendencies. 

When with Micheal, Tori continuously keeps him locked out of her life. When Micheal tells her that he wants to be friends, Tori goes on a tangent about how she doesnt know why he wants to be friends and says “i'm not some manically depressed psychopath” and they get into a fight that ends with michael saying “well maybe you are a manically depressed psychopath” and everyone ever is disappointed because Tori cant let people care about her. There's a point where Tori and Micheal finally accept each other as people and decide not to question one another, they both care and they both are okay with that, Micheal is there when Tori needs him and Tori is there when Micheal needs her, it's one of the most beautiful things and their friendship and care for eachother is deep and true and it's my favorite thing in the universe. When Tori is about to get killed by a firework, when she's literally standing on the edge of death, when she's sat at home after Charlie's relapse Micheal Holden is there. Micheals constant anger has noticeably taken a toll on him and he has said “i'm always angry, other emotions just overrule it” he means that Tori’s presence is the emotion that overrules, not in a cheesy love story way but in the way that when you’re having a bad day and then you go home to your bed and take an advil and drink some water, it makes you feel better. Tori is Micheals bed, Advil and water, no matter how cold the bed is, or how gross the Advil is or how unfiltered the water is. She’s still there, overriding the constantly lingering aggravation with himself. When Tori’s about to kill herself, Michael is there to save her, pull her back into reality and even though Tori isn't okay in the slightest afterwards, Micheal is still there, and they still care, even if the water is muddy.

 In between the 4 month gap between Solitaire and Heartstopper, nothing is technically canon on what happens between them but 4 months later Micheal has proposed the idea that they confirm their relationship status as girlfriend and boyfriend and this scared Tori. Not because she doesn't like him in that way, but because she doesn't want him to get bored of her. Along with Tori’s asexuality being confirmed, it's also confirmed that Tori and Micheal had sex and Tori was sent a confirmation email for her ticket for the asexual train. Charlie and Tori’s conversation about this is very touching, Charlie brings up that he once said that if Nick never wanted to have sex with him, he wouldn't want to either and it wouldn't change how he felt about Nick in any way. This is an example of why Asexuals FLOCK to Alice Osemans writing, it focuses on the emotional connection between characters, not the sex and tension between them. Charlie reassures Tori that Micheal will understand and he most definitely will not get bored of her (considering that they canonically stay together for at least like 10 more years) Tori’s fear of a labeled relationship is an important factor within the idea that Tori is on the Aromantic spectrum, as an aromantic person, when a relationship that I’m in is labeled, it stresses me out. It creates this internal fear of commitment and that might be what Tori is experiencing. At the end of the page, Tori and Micheal are shown talking probably about her being asexual. My hopes are that Tori and Michaels relationship remains unlabeled because it's very important that different types of queer relationships are shown in mainstream media, especially ones that aren't labeled or inside queer norms. There's nothing like queer erasure from other queer people.

[gayhoediaz]

It’s so true though people need to stop putting their fanfic expectations on the show and its storylines. I honestly think that the people who get so upset about their speculation not actually happening are the ones who solely watch the show through a “shipping lens” and then fail to realize that while it can be campy and dramatic it’s still not a 95K Ao3 fic focused on Buddie getting together.

yeah, i mean i'm 100% certain we are getting canon buddie, and i have been for years, please don't get me wrong. but i absolutely do feel as if there is a group of people (there always has been, but it's gotten worse in the past year imo) who don't even... like the show? i am being so so serious when i say that i think canon is better than any fanfiction i have ever read or written and i think that's why i'm so quick to be annoyed by people putting the writing down? again, don't get me wrong - you wanna talk about the copaganda, or the excessive screentime given to taykay (outside of her storyline with buck) i'm here for that (well. maybe not right now - but in theory, you know? no writer is faultless) but i have 100% faith in the writers overall and i know that they have been, and are going to continue to give buck and eddie the time they need.

i also think that binging and having entire seasons dumped into your lap all at once has fried peoples brains quite frankly.

[sonicasura]

Once again, they overestimated Knockout’s actual medical knowledge. He seemed to be a medic in training in the total of three timelines with his confirmed presence—trying to do the job of a full blown one. Dart’s own suggestions during when he was the only Decepticon awake had been more necessary than they realized.

Megatron’s frame, to put it simply, was a mess.

The Decepticon leader was as large as his two deceased counterparts. Meaning his frame was built for fighting and left its innermost components buckling a bit beneath the weight. Clearly, there had been attempts to correct the long term wear-tear… Warframe medical care was simply another beast in itself. He was functional before getting half mauled true.

Yet Dart knew from Ratchet’s many, many lectures toward the self-sacrificial Prime that larger frames needed the most work. Staying on top of proper maintenance prevented these smaller issue from becoming the serious ones.

“Anyone with even passing medical experience or other biological familiarity, get over here!” Dart hissed, letting their pointed denta show as their wings finally raised up. They didn’t falter when their harsh tone ended up getting all the recently repaired Decepticons attention. “Seems you all need a refresher in actual complete medical procedures for war-frames.”

——————————

Jettison switched back to English to chew the entirety of the Decepticons out for the sad state that was Megatron’s frame. Outwardly, the leader had looked imposing before being half eaten. Inwardly? There were apparently a lot of issues his frame created that none of them had been privy due to lacking knowledge.

The neutral Seeker tensely listed a number of issues in between spitting half-threats:

“His fusion canon alone fries the wires in his arm. I ought to stick one of your servos in the barrel and see how you deal with the heat!”

“These cables shouldn’t have gotten this slack. He’s lucky his bulk allows him to throw punches.”

“How he’s walking around on knee joints this bad, I will never know.”

“Hell, how protoform is a constant map of bruises that keep getting done in again and new healing fully!”

They provided a very in-depth yet prompt overview of how Warframes should be able to function. Megatron could have greater range of motion than his frame suggested, if he was at the actual one hundred percent operation. Jettison had to teleport away and bring additional supplies as they insisted on getting the Decepticon leader up to decent health. Frankly, Knockout was both impressed and fearful of how they could diagnose at a glance.

—————————

Dart had explained to their poor, poor Faction about the situation. It was a hard pill to swallow knowing there was a universe where Megatron was a good guy since the beginning. Let alone one with blue optics who kept said optics…

They also knew that they were running off fumes by the time that they got back to the Decepticons’ base. The Omnitrix kept sending them warnings for pushing past the normal hour limit. So with great reluctance, Dart changed back without much prompting in the presence of everyone there. Silas face helped bite back the barest hints of anxiety running through them. They marched their way over to one of the corners of the base and leaned against the wall attempting to get comfortable.

“Let me rest for an hour or two, then I can revamp Megatron’s frame.” Dart called out to the still stunned cybertronians and humans.

—ROB’d Anon.

Regular Optimus has the Matrix to bite back the worse of the wear and tear of being a leader. Shattered Glass Megatron does not have the same luxury, nor does his frame do him favors.

Dart is unfortunately used to fitting power naps in uncomfortable positions. They slept outside a lot on the beginning when their morals hadn’t caught up to the circumstance…

That definitely was quite the intimidating learning experience for the SG Decepticons. Yeah, SG Megs wouldn't have such a luxury of the Matrix unlike Optimus. Meanwhile everyone in the normal timeline is digesting the weirdest bombshell ever.

[yourgirlniki]

Jackie and Wilson

"For whatever poor soul is coming next"

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x f!reader

3k words

Tags!: No use of y/n, fluff, down bad Johnny MacTavish, not completely canon accurate Soap, first fic! 😎👍

A/N: This is based on Hozier's song Jackie and Wilson - I'm thinking I want this to be the beginning of a collection of one-shots based on his songs, depending on my free time! But again, first fic so please any comments would be greatly appreciated! Was nervous to post but ya only live once Hope you enjoy!

The cushion on the back of the booth wasn’t the most comfortable thing ever. The deep red bump didn’t do much to help an aching back, more of a thing that somewhat fixed the posture of those who sat at it. But who goes to a bar for comfort anyway? Dingy bars aren’t the first place most people would think to go back to after nearly dying halfway across the world.

The sticky floors, the mesh of posters and old mementos hanging on the brick walls. The neon lights, the potent smell- its headache inducing and you don't even have a hangover yet. And there are too many people in here, crowding pool tables and the small dance floor, (if you can even call it that), to be called someplace one would go to calm down and relax.

This is a fact that is true for most people.

But most people aren’t military. Even fewer are SAS.

And absolutely none are John MacTavish.

The man who idolizes the chaotic ways of the world above all else. That’s what has him still in the job quite frankly. The chaos, the ability to live and thrive in an insane environment. For someone like him, these things never truly bothered him. In an odd sense, the smell of alcohol, sweat and far too many bad ideas feel closer to home than he’s been in a few months. A comfort that most don't understand. But he does.

So even as exhaustion tries to take hold, the scott wears a signature giddy smile, adds a seemingly impossible pep to his step, and he drags the 141 into a back table, somehow always energetic. Even after practically wasting away in a desert for the past 3 months, he has energy. It’s honestly absurd.

Even worse is that he always finds a way for that energy to become contagious. As much as his teammates joke and grumble about it, Johnny was their way of restoration, to push forward. He would choose a shitty bar, and even shittier alcohol over a quiet apartment or the pile of paperwork that had to get done at some point. And so, the boys would too. Even if they hid it behind the facade of “babysitting” the grown man.

So now, here they sat, against the trashy cushions, with crappy music, in the dimly lit bar, with smiles and a sense of belonging. They call it a “celebration” of a mission well done, a nod to their success. Definitely not an excuse to just drink the night away, to get the mission out of their heads for a bit. To laugh with comrades and just be… domestic? Is that right? Close enough.. Yeah? Finding their small slot back into normal society.

Don’t get him wrong, Johnny loves his job. Loves what he does, but who doesn’t want to just have a drink at a bar with his mates every once and a while? And that's why he has his third beer in his hand and is snorting and a story Gaz is telling about one of his most recent hookups. A lady who was.. “Bloody crazy! I mean it. Seemed nice at first but don't be fooled, she was insane!”

Yeah, this is home. It’s where he belongs, where he wants to belong, he thinks. With his men, in the middle of nowhere chatting about anything and everything. Confiding in and teasing each other. He trusts them with his life, he can trust them to listen when need be. And yet… there is always that ache. The strange pull in moments like these like something is still missing. It’s been happening more often lately. And it's like an itch Johnny can't scratch. A puzzle piece he can't find but is still absent mindedly searching for. The only issue is he doesn't know what it is, that it just- isn't.

The chatter fades to a muffled sound in the scotts ears for a moment as he lets out a small, genuine smile looking at his group, sipping at the drink in his hand as his forearms lay themselves on the table, hands clasping. Taking a moment to truly thank whatever may be pulling the strings. Bringing him and his boys to safety. And maybe even a small prayer to tell him what the odd nagging in his brain is about. He takes a breath and relaxes, just for a moment. Looking around the bar, truly just admiring the world around him, the bustle of it all, the people with their own lives and ambitions.

How was he supposed to know that was a fatal mistake on his part?

He couldn’t. He didn’t.

He found out a second to late, registered it after he knew he was done for. It was one moment, a mistake, a pause, that would stick with him for as long as it dared. It was a magnet, an invisible force that pulled his very being toward it. The moment he nearly drooled his drink out from his now slack jaw.

Because when his eyes connect with the woman walking through the door, he swears time stopped.

Suddenly, the crappy bar didn’t smell as bad, the music wasn’t too loud, the cushion no longer made his back ache, the room got brighter just from her smile. The very ground shifted, and not in the drunken haze way. He warmed up, eyes wide. A thought process that if he opened them more he would see more. God, it felt like getting a cavity by now, she felt too sweet to even look at.

In a single moment the world shattered around him, everything he knew was thrown out a window, as his mind was occupied by one thought only.

It was only a moment… but by then he knew he was fucked, utterly and completely.

Fate or destiny, call it what you may. An answered prayer, an utter coincidence. It didn’t matter. The bar turned into a museum, a place to observe and admire as his eyes widened impossibly more as his head tilted watching her move. A giggle slipped under his breath as he thought he could be mistaken for Ghost at this point, with his starring.

But your pull, it was undeniable. Even the thought of looking away would cause you to vanish in a blink, never for Johnny to see again. And he couldn’t have that. Not when it was astonishing in the way you simply were.

It only got worse as your group got closer to theirs. A mere table away. When you first walked in it was a trap, a line that was cast into his pond and he was falling for the bait. Confidence is something he is used to in his line of work, but it was usually the cocky kind. The kind that made him want to kick a recruits teeth in for. But you were something different entirely. You demand attention, even if you didn't know it. A high held head, a testament to the world that you were there, and you were aware of it. Thank god it was his attention it demanded, because it was nothing short of a miracle.

The air you lived in became breathable, spreading to his little corner of the bar as he had to remind himself to actually inhale and exhale as he took in the sight over and over again. Committing it to memory. The world became a movie, a fictional place where he wasn’t. One he could only watch and revel in. It was the type that you knew was going to be good before it even began. The one you had been anticipating for and knew wouldn’t disappoint. His heart rate picked up, the same way it would in the field, but in a much less stressful manner now. Jesus, what was happening to him? You must have cursed him. That’s it. The only explanation. Bewitched by not only the view, but the melody of your laugh flooding his ears now at the closer proximity. Leaning against a standing table with a glass in hand, head slightly tilted enough that a stray hair fell to cover your face.

It was comical the way his heart sped up, watching as you chatted with your own group. Something so normal, something you see every single day, was making the big strong man’s hard race like it life or death. And he knew life or death.

Romeo had nothing on him.

Absolutely nothing in the way his brain knew he was to be yours. It had to be, he had to be. It’s how the story will be written, and he will play his role. Stealing your hear that way you have entranced his own. He wouldn’t be able to tell you when he got up. He can’t tell you how his body moved on its own, knowing what needed to be done but not conscious enough to alert his brain.

What he can tell about how perfect it felt to so much as stand there by you. Soaking in your presence was one thing, standing in it next to you was another entirely.

And that's how he found himself face to face with you, who turned to him with a puzzled look, but a kind smile.

He was a goner.

“Oh… umm- Hello, can I help you?” Is all you had to say to him to confirm his every thought. This woman could heal every wound with her voice alone. And her eyes so much as finally looking back at him felt like he was seen for the first time in his life.

“Uhh.. sir? Are you alright?” Your voice rang out again, pulling him back to reality as you hand waved in front of his face slightly. A flattering smile on our lips and your eyebrows furrowed slightly, almost concerned. What came over John MacTavish in that moment is unexplainable.

“I seem to have lost my number—can I have yours?”

Her eyebrows raised. She blinks. Then tilting her head slightly.

He could die right then and there.

Leaning against the table next to her with a stupid, crooked smile and a raised eyebrow, as if he didn't just embarrassed the hell out of himself. A pick up line? That's the best you could do, John? Really? Welp, there goes every chance you had, cut your losses and- Laughter chimed in his ears like wedding bells. And that’s when he froze, every negative thought draining him as he became light. You laugh was intoxicating more than any drink or drug. The kind that was unapologetic and genuine. The kind that has the back of your palm finding your lips as you cover your giggles, nose scrunching and eyes squinting due to the smile. One that made both of you have pink cheeks for different reasons. A joke that probably shouldn't have been laughed at, but coming from the man before you, it eased the tension in the air.

It must have been the prettiest sight Johnny had ever seen.

He doesn’t know how he did it, probably because it wasn’t him at all. Must have been pure luck that after that horrible entrance she seemed kind enough to humor him that night. He bought you a drink and hung on every word you so much as muttered in his direction. You laughed at every joke, good or bad. He made it his mission to make sure he always heard that laugh from then on. To produce it from you.

Oddly enough, it turns out you were one of few words when it came to the actual conversation. And yet it was never rude, ore quiter nature. But more like you were always listening. Every word John rambled on about you picked up, asking questions or simply nodding, expressing your thoughts in your facal expression. Because of this, it seemed like he never looked away from you either, not that it was a bother, it was strangely alright. It wasn’t judgemental, only observant.

He thought he might go buy a ticket for the lottery after you agreed to give him your number by the end of the night. He was more smitten than he’s ever been, and on the dates to follow the swooning only got worse.

Every moment with you felt exhilarating, like he found that missing piece finally after a long search. And that piece loved him back He was insufferable, always gushing about the woman he has the opportunity to take out on a date. And the dates where nothing less of spectacular. The pair was stupid like teenagers in love, but more sentimental, understanding the weight of things better. Arguments never lasted long and if they did they were cleared up before any damage was done. She understood what his job ment to him, and told him she would never make him change that about himself. It was his passion, she can share.

“Just so long as you promise to come back to me.”

And from that day forth he would make a pinky promise every time he left. He was to come home. Time passed quickly, in flashes. It felt like his life went from downtime in between missions, to missions in between downtime. His heart ached for you in the days he was gone, but he always knew he would be home. He would see you again. He found a want to live, even more now that he found his world.

And as time passed them by, he found out she was perfect in the all the ways he could dream of. Especially in the impossible task of calming him down as well. Rough mission? She already had his favorite meal ready and was soothing him over. Nightmares? She was there either on the phone or more recently next to him to hold him and run her fingers through his hair. To much energy? To rowdy? You always found a way to settle him down. His anchor. And he would do the same for her if the day presented itself.

Another plus that made it all that much more, everyone liked you.It wasn’t hard too of course, but it proved even moreso how lucky he got. His family adored you, his sisters taking you in as part of the family already, much quicker than any of his other past relationships. It made him well up with pride.

Even when he officially introduced you to the 141, it was with open arms as well. If he wasnt a unit before, he absolutely was one now. Maybe just a tad bit more annoying with his bragging but of course he brags. Those boys knew how much you were doing for him, and you knew they were keeping him safe. It was a harmony that both sides respected.

A part of him knew that even if all of those people didn’t like her, (an impossible feat if he does say so himself), nothing would change for him. You were his, he was yours. Irrevocably and absolutely. If the world didn’t want them, the world wasn’t for them. Simple as that. Life became sweeter, dreamlike as he fell into a comfortable rhythm. It was almost unbelievable, no, it was unbelievable.

One day, as he was laying on the couch, laying gently on you, nearly dozing off. Then he felt your hand on his shoulder, a soft pat that made him stir but not move as he hummed in response. “Johnny?” You said, soft enough that he had to stir slightly closer to your voice. But he didn’t look up, kept his heavy eyes shut as he mumbles a small “what?”

“Earth to Johnny..” Hmm, that's odd. It mde him sit up the slightest bit more. Must have been laying on his ear wrong, your voice sounded weird. And another pat on his shoulder, a bit harder this time.

“MacTavish!”

And then he blinked. He was sitting up straight, eyes wide as he made eye contact with his Captain across from him, in the same place he left him at the bar. The bar? His cheek stung from the movement of no longer resting on… his palm? His? No that’s not right. His head hurt slightly as the smell of bar flooded his nose. What was he doing in a-

“Soap, you alright? You were out for a bit. Staren’ at nothing.” Gaz said with a smile, slightly concerned.

He looked around, baffled as he took in the same dingy bar he had met you in. In fact in the same spot exactly, same clothes, same drink. Hold on, that can't be right. His head swung back around as he took in the table next to them was, empty. Bottles and cups discarded to the side, napkins crumpled. He heard the bar door shut as his eyes flicked over and spotted the same woman walk away outside, smiling the same as she was before. Only then did it make sense.

His mind filled in the blanks for him as he rubbed his face with a groan. When something is too good to be true, it's probably because it is. Gaz was patting his back as Ghost and Price shared a look that had Price hiding a smirk. But it didn’t matter to Johnny.

What mattered was she’d already left.

The boys decided that's where the night should end, Johnny's head almost embarrassingly hung low as they paid their bill and called a car to take them back to base. This is the first time Scott has sulked in a while, running his hands through his mohawk as he kicked himself for being so stupid. Caught up in a daydream of a random woman at the bar, what a stupid fantasy to get caught in. he was practically mourning something he doesn't even have, never did have. And now something he wouldn’t have either.

The moment changed his life for sure, a memory of fake memories that will haunt his little brain every once in a while when he's bored and remembers this night.

[pedge-page]

Feelin a little ⚡️sadistic⚡️today and decided to write an alternate future ending for the Cravings series. This is not part of their canon story, but this one would hypothetically take place after Insatiable as a more realistic turnout. This isn’t a continuation because frankly I don’t have a satisfying, or even full ending to this. Its just a thought.

If you liked the ending of Insatiable and want to remain happy with it, DO NOT READ THIS. This is for masochistic peeps who want some heartbreak. 

Warnings: only brief mentions of smut but otherwise, this just a downward spiral of worse case scenarios. Some warnings are spoilers so the only one I’m going to list here is drug use and toxic behavior.— I also did very little research here on actual repercussions of drug charges, rehab, or anything really, so please take all of it with less than a grain of salt and focus on the feels

Again DONT READ IF YOU LOVED THE ENDING TO INSATIABLE. this will ruin everything :)

- - - -

You stare at the empty apartment that had become your home for the last two years. That had been filled with so much love, so much laughter and joy. So much insatiable sex and warmth. It’s incredible how much more spacious the floor really is when all the furniture had been removed, how bright the walls really are without any hanging and photos. Despite its small size, it worked just perfectly for you and the man you love. Two years. Memories you could never swipe away despite the cold vacancy of the apartment now, even with the promise of a boundless and full future ahead.

Your hand gently caresses over the hefty bump that has made its own home in you for some months. You sooth your baby’s little kicks, smiling, a tear welling in your eye but you dare not shed it. 

You were ready to start the next phase of your life. The one with a home to call your own, a front porch to rock your baby on, a full kitchen to make a true Thanksgiving feast, a bedroom suite, and then extra rooms for a growing family.

You were ready to start your life.

A life without Frankie Morales. 

 - 

You should have known then. With the signs so blatantly evident, like quick temper, aggressive nature in his love making, obsessiveness over you, the jealousy. The way he took too much pride in constantly leaving marks on you. Subtle threats to other men who misinterpreted your kind smile and words as an invite. Forcing you to stay in bed, to take his cock deep into your battered cunt even when you were exhausted. You both thought your orgasms was your way of wanting more, even if the rest of your body protested. but he filled your ears with such sweet praise, touched you with a fervent love that made your heart flutter, adored you like no one else.

From the day you told him you loved him, you should have stopped then, seeing how far he had gone just without you. It wasn’t healthy to rely on someone like that. To say sober. Frankie’s dependence on you was…corrupt. It had been from the beginning.

You ignored it. 

Then Frankie and the boys, including Tom which you were surprised by, were called down for a less than legit mission. Tom didn’t come home, and Frankie, the one you knew, didn’t quite come home the same. He didn’t talk to you about it, ever. None of the guys did. You just held him for hours the night he got back, his hair whiter, eyes more sunken in than ever. After some time, things went back to normal. Until you realized, they were never normal to begin with.

The first evident sign that life wasn’t a hallmark movie anymore was when you had been stuck in traffic during a storm, and then had to pull off for hours until it passed; you couldn’t get a signal out to your boyfriend that you were safe, but going to be home late.

3 hours passed by the time you walked into the apartment. Warm Frankie, gentle Frankie, happy Frankie… wasn’t home.

Instead it was feral Frankie, desperate Frankie, curled in a corner, pale and shaking Frankie who only cracked a timid smile when you had walked in, drenched in rain, but alive and concerned for him. He immediately bear hugged you tight, the jitters passing as he inhaled your wet scent. “I’m okay, I’m okay, I promise. I’m so sorry I’m so late,” you soothed.

He didn’t let you leave his sight the entire night. And even into the morning, when you had to get up for work again, he held you against his body in bed, refusing to let you part, distracting you with sex over and over again until half the day had passed. He texted your boss saying you were out sick from the rain last night. No biggie.

He was only calm when you were around. Only satisfied when you were with him. 

The guys never told you, but he was irritable when it was just him with them. He didn’t like talking as much. Didn’t laugh the way he used to. It’s like the real Frankie only came out when you were there. 

And when you had to take a week for a work trip, he begged you to cancel it. Clawed at his own skin as the day of your flight crept up. Visibly anxious enough that you weren’t sure he’d be okay. “Just stay home, Querida. Please.” 

But he’s a grown man. It’s just a little trip, and he’s one phone call away.

So when the week went by, and he missed a few of your calls towards the end, you came home, worried about what you might find. But you were delighted to see Frankie was, in fact, in high spirits, healthy, and seemingly unaffected by your absence. “Mi Hermosa,” he whispered against your lips, bringing you in his embrace and rocking you gently. You made love sweetly that night, and you started to wonder what it is you were so afraid of.

It took you a few weeks before you noticed the slight powdery trail of cocaine on the handle of his gun safe. And guessing the combination as your birthday, discovering bags full of the stuff, some stored and some half opened, and re-opened, half depleted.

You couldn’t even call Frankie, who was away—you didn’t really know where. He would just up and leave sometimes now. Your heart dropped at the idea of exactly where he’s been bouncing off to. You realized he was more static for your the frequent trips you were taking due to your career taking off. that the two of you were spending less time together, but you weren’t really aware of exactly what he was doing during that time. He clearly was never high when he was around you, and was adept at hiding his problem when you were home.

You called the boys. Santi came running over, swearing repeatedly in Spanish at the sight of the stash. Benny and Will came over too, clearing it all out while you sobbed into Pope’s arms. How could you be so stupid to think it was all going so well?

It then all happened so fast: you weren’t even there when they confronted Frankie, didn’t know it went over badly, that he wasn’t gentle at all, still blown high as fuck, and fists went flying, bloody knuckles and broken noses later. Then getting an immediate court date, not able to come up to see you for a second. You were there in the room, only seeing the wrecked look all over his body, the way he couldn’t even bring his eyes to you. 

He plead guilty to his drug charges, lost his license indefinitely, and was only spared from a prison sentence with the promise of extensive treatment at a rehab center for at least a year, and a large bond, that you and the guys poured a shit ton of your life savings in to. Then Frankie was being husked away to his hospital-like prison, with no visitations until the first year of intense treatment passed.

It was all coming at such a bad time too, having just thrown out the 3 positive pregnancy tests in the dumpster behind the apartment building just this morning. 

None of you told Frankie about the baby before he left. You asked them not to. As far as today went, including Frankie in your life, in your baby’s life, wasn’t an option at the moment. You would deal with that when he was out, when he was Frankie again.

-

Now a few months since the incident, 7 months pregnant, you packed the apartment quietly minus your little sniffles. Pictures of the of you at the fair, in a museum, on vacation in Miami, were packed in a cardboard box and sealed away until you could find your home again. His furniture and belongings went into storage for the time being while your parents found a little house that could accommodate you and baby Morales. With one last look, you close the apartment door, breathing heavily. You hope to see Frankie again the moment he was allowed visitors. To see him smile again just for you. To come to a new home and see his baby boy growing, and filling the time he missed with an infinity of love, devotion, and health.

So when you gave birth all by yourself, and fended two jobs while nurturing your baby all by yourself, and strapped the infant in the car as you drove 4 hours to the rehab center to see your boyfriend all by yourself, it didn’t feel—good, to be told Frankie specifically requested not to have any visitors today. And even when you tried to argue with the receptionist about the situation, to give him your name specifically, she came back with the same answer, and said the patient has a right to refuse visitation, even after it is permitted. 

Santi stays with you for a few days after, given what an absolute exhausted wreck you had become after braving the whole year and only running on sheer hope this whole time. The guys rotated shifts, fed you and the baby, cleaned, let you sleep your depression away until you were ready to move on. 

Frankie denied their visitation too.

Another year goes by, and still no Frankie. He had gone completely off the grid for everyone. All the doctors reported was that he was responding well, fully taking charge and utilizing the time that he needed to get clean. You learned that he had found a place to live in the area and regularly returned for treatment. But he never once contacted any of you to where he lived.

Good. You were doing much better too.

And when the third year goes by, celebrating your son’s second birthday, you don’t feel such guilt when you stumble upon a new man and invite him in to your life. And how much he takes to loving a son who isn’t his own. And when you feel a sense of excitement after a long time without it, when the new love of your life gets on his knees to propose, asking you to continue to fill his life with a home to share. And when you’re pregnant with another baby, your little Francisco being so excited to be a big brother, in the new house that had never breathed the same air as the man who left you behind all that time ago.

It does become a problem when you answer the knocks on your front door, swinging it open to a very frail, very thin, and very remorseful looking Francisco Morales standing there, looking at the swell in your stomach, wedding ring on your finger, and carbon copy of himself as a child standing at your hip.

- - - -

sorryyyyy

[dustrose]

In Regards to the Final Bracket

Hey, all.

I'm what many would describe as a "lurker." I'm quite shy when it comes to things like this, that is, posting my opinion on the internet. It's not something I ever planned to do, nor something I'm confident in, but it is something I've been meaning to do for a few days now.

So why am I writing this? It's simple, really, I voted for SuleMio in the poll.

First of all, I want to get some disclaimers and the like out of the way, along with a TL:DR.

Destiel is absolutely sacred history, and it always will be. I do not mean to downplay its significance. It is important to not only lgbtq+ but also fandoms as a whole. Without Destiel, I doubt the internet would have developed in the same way, for better or worse. (I mean, we wouldn't have Tumblr, would we?)

With that being said, it is also important to mention that Destiel isn't the only history. History is ever-changing, there's always more being added, and in this case, that is SuleMio. While Destiel changed the course of the internet when it was popular, SuleMio is changing it now.

Okay, now for a quick TL:DR

Destiel is important for history, but SuleMio is important for the future. Neither is better than the other; they're amazing in their own ways. We really shouldn't be fighting over something we can easily agree on. They are both ships that revolutionized in their times, and they are both ships that deserve to be respected, as do the people supporting them.

-----

Now to start the rambling!

So, I created a Tumblr to vote in this bracket. When I first stumbled upon it and voted, I actually had no idea what Destiel was (later looked it up, and I've seen Supernatural, so y'know, "oh, neat.") More than that, I was only introduced to Gundam as a franchise in late March, being through a friend who recommended G_Witch to me (which I am ever-grateful for).

In a way, I'm absolutely an outsider. I haven't been with either ship for very long and haven't experienced the same things others have experienced. I haven't even finished Supernatural, nor was I there when Bandai said SuleMio was "up for interpretation."

And yet, I'm here, putting my thoughts on paper because I think this is important.

That is, respecting what came before and respecting what will come after.

Destiel and SuleMio are two sides of the same coin. We can sit here and whine about the little things...

But Destiel isn't canon!

But Sulemio didn't kiss!

Don't care, that's not the point here. The point is that both of these ships, these relationships, have affected many communities and have touched many hearts. There's no right or wrong, no "mine's better" or "yours is stupid," they're just ships, but more than that, they are history.

Let's start with one of the biggest things. Destiel is Tumblr, isn't it? I was too young when all of that happened to be on Tumblr, so frankly, I didn't know until recently that it was history, but even so, I can appreciate it. I never went on Tumblr, but I did like a lot of stuff on it (you guys are really funny.) What I mean is, I have no history with Tumblr, yet I can still appreciate what has happened.

Not to say that you have to, of course. I get being tired of Destiel, feeling like its beating a dead horse. But let's stop and imagine for a moment, heck, maybe even two moments, that in twenty years when SuleMio is old news, and there's a new, big queer ship on the table, there will be some people clinging onto what came before. In this case, I'm certain I'll still have a soft spot for SuleMio; I'll probably hang onto it until I die (24 fanfictions on AO3 doesn't go away that easily, y'know), but I'm also certain that the new ship would probably win.

It's as I mentioned earlier. History is ever-changing, ever being built upon. There's always something new, something someone begins with, and there's also something old and something someone has always been with, if that makes any sense?

Destiel is that something old; it's what came before, but just because it's not the present anymore doesn't mean its accomplishments should be overlooked. Furthermore, SuleMio isn't even a year old yet. It's fresh off the press, fresh in our minds, and it's definitely one of the most important pieces of media to be released in the 2020s. It's new, but like Destiel, its accomplishments shouldn't be overlooked because of how old it is.

In the end, this poll was just something silly to get our little gremlin minds going. I mean, we all knew it would end like this, didn't we? In discourse--when it comes to ships, it's always discourse.

Y'know, I was there for bmblb vs blacksun, and yikes.

Anyway, as I was saying, this isn't something we should be fighting about. Especially not calling people names, as I've seen a few people do. No matter what the case, insulting others for disagreeing with you will never do anything but make you look immature.

Ah, side tangent, my bad.

This is getting long, oopsies, but I thought it was important to get some of this on paper... er, computer? Because I hate to see a community in disarray when we should be celebrating both of these ships for what they've done and what they could do.

I think that's everything, yeah. Stay safe, drink water, consume lots of queer media, and have some fun. :3

-Rose

[hellslayersomething]

thoughts on all the DA4 news this past week, from a tired old veteran who's been wandering the bloodied plains of the DA fandom since Origins' release:

I still don't believe that this game actually exists and won't until it's in my hand, in my PS5, I've clocked 50 hours, and I hit credits.

After the news came out that there were 7 companions, I told a friend I would need a solid 4/7 of them to be pre-existing characters in the canon. Harding, Neve, Lucanis, and Emmerich put it at exactly that number, so good show there.

The "Hero Shooter" character reveal trailer was a massive mistake. BioWare and the influencers they're paying had to spend the past two days doing frantic PR to convince people that the game doesn't actually look like that, it's not indicative of the game's tone, it definitely feels like Tevinter Nights and not Fortnite, and it's not a fee-to-pay live service game. They should have led with the gameplay video.

All of the people freaking out about Lucanis being labelled a "Mage Killer" just goes to show that DA discourse truly is a circle. (Also, read "The Wigmaker Job", it's so good.)

The dialogue suuuuucks. Wow, it's been a while since I've encountered a game that respects its audience's intelligence this little. [Earthquake] Harding: "The tremors are getting worse!" [demons show up] Neve: "And we've got demons!" Is BioWare expecting the core player base to consist of people who have never encountered media before? The extent to which the game over-exposits is quite actually mind boggling. I'm genuinely curious if there's anyone who watched this video who didn't come out of it feeling insulted by the game's lack of trust that you have basic cause-and-effect recognition skills. I know people like to bandy about "media literacy is dead", but surely it hasn't gotten so bad that players need to be told out loud "Watch out for lightning" when a boss shoots lightning at them. I'm hoping this was just included for the sake of the gameplay video, but several of these very bad lines seem pretty integral to what's happening on screen, so I guess we'll see.

The dialogue and voicing for the trash mobs is especially bad. I hate to say the word, but I truly think "cringe" is applicable here.

Nice FFXIV reference. (Listen, if this game is going to play follow-the-leader with any one other game, since apparently DA can't get away from that habit, FFXIV is the one I'd want them to chase. Certainly a better fit than Overwatch.)

The battle system seems fine. Reminds me of DA2's, which was perfectly cromulent. Sincerely, I don't expect deeply satisfying gameplay from DA, they've never delivered it before, no need to start now. Passable is fine.

Happy to see the DA2 dialogue wheel return too. Hope that means the invisible personality system comes along with it.

No rivalry system :( Again :(((((

Seriously though, the marketing for this game is a massive mess and their marketing lead should probably be out of the job. All of the news from this week has led to increased confusion about what the game is, what it's called, whether it is DA4 or not, whether it's a single player RPG or not, whether it's an effective franchise reboot or not--and they're all but shadow-dropping it (theoretically) after 10 full years of releasing no other Dragon Age games. This franchise has close to no momentum (many people considered it outright dead until this week), and now that they're ready to start actually talking about DA4, they've completely stumbled out of the gate and given themselves only 3-6 months to come up with a PR plan to correct for that. Embarrassing, frankly.

I guess that's it. The new gameplay video has returned my mood on DA4 from "absolutely the fuck not" after the character reveal video back to a resounding "I nothing this game", which is...actually maybe a worse place for me to be. The last time I went into game feeling a hollow nothing from the promotional materials, it was FFXVI, and we all know how that turned out for me. Anyway, in conclusion:

[gale-gentlepenguin]

Which canon ship would you say has the least amount of chemistry (and not just from Miraculous, from any show you've watched) ?

Oh this, This is a good question. It fortunate you said show and not movie, because I would have set this place on fire.

Do you want to know the ship with the least amount of chemistry? I will do multiple categories for the sake of pissing off as many people as possible. And to make it harder on myself, they have to be together and not broken up in their most recent season/canon.

In Live Action. Lets go with Ted and Robin from 'how I met your mother?'

The finale annoyed me and Robin and Barney had Infinitely more chemistry than Ted and Robin yet the show ends with Ted simping over Robin, its dumb bulls***. Plus all their stuff feels so forced.

In Western animations (cartoons): Kuzco and Malina (From Emperor's new school

For those of you who dont remember, this was an actual show that aired. It made almost no sense and quite frankly it was a dumb show and Malina and Kuzco really didnt have any real chemistry. I wouldnt call it toxic, it was just the writing was so forced because the show was such a cash grab. Why would the emperor need to go to school? He would have royal tutors. Also Malina was often just there to tell kuzco what the right thing to do was. It was dull.

As for Anime: Light and Misa from deathnote

Now the beauty of anime there are a TON of f***ed up canon relationships. but the question of LEAST chemistry. And that basically has to go to the Anime equivalent of a Joker and Harley pairing. Light doesnt give a f*** about Misa, but Misa is madly in love with him because he killed the killer of her parents by coincidence. The interactions between them regardless of dub is always stilted and they were canon till the end so it counts. Now are there probably worse anime couples, yes. But none that i have seen that are so... eh.

_____________________________________________________________

[britcision]

Another ficlet for our Four Heralds AU! This one is mostly about our dear wet cat of a Lavellan, Lluciano. It’s pretty early on while everyone’s getting to know each other in the Hinterlands.

Just some first little hints at our collection of backstories

Also, cooking head canons for the early companions 👀

—————

Foraging 

Things were… well, settling felt optimistic with the Breach still in the sky like a jagged green scar, but at least it had stopped growing. 

The Andrastians’ Chantry was trying to kick up trouble in Val Royeaux, and as much as Cadash would have enjoyed pretending they didn’t see why it mattered… yeah, a lot of people followed the Chantry like they had their heads in a bag. 

Blatantly refused to accept that not everyone else did, which was great when you had three “heralds of Andraste”, none of whom believed in the prophet, but hey. 

When someone asks if you’ve been touched by their god, you say yes. 

Not that they, Lavellan, or Adaar ever agreed to it. But they could see the wisdom in Leliana’s gentle confirmations, and it made their own denials seem more like humility than “why the fuck is everything about your god”, so that was a win. 

For now, even as much as Josephine fretted, the budding Inquisition had bigger problems than the Chantry coming up with a united stance. They had mouths to feed, too few horses, and roads completely swamped between rogue templars, flighty mages, and just regular bandits out to make everyones’ lives worse. 

Frankly, if they left for Val Royeaux now, the Inquisition’s forces just might melt away behind them. Pure coincidence that this meant flipping off the Lord Chancellor’s self importance every day they rode out to take care of the people, not a bunch of overinflated egos. 

The one thing they were probably never going to have to worry about though? Supplies, especially things like elfroot. 

You couldn’t put Lluciano Lavellan into the woods and expect him not to disappear off every thirty seconds apparently, chasing down a familiar looking leaf or bush. 

And to be fair, Cadash had been a broke ass blacksmith too long to let an accessible ore deposit pass them by, even if it wasn’t enough to make a nail on its own. 

Shit added up, and they’d smelted their own bar stock enough to know what iron could be used. No matter how much Varric or the others bitched, free beat trying to ship through bandit hell. 

They were on their way to scout locations for watch towers, one of their first missions out from Haven when it first came up. 

Corin had asked Lavellan to do his thing, forage around and rustle up something they could turn into a meal. Kid did damn well too, coming back with wild carrots, onions, and even some potatoes. 

Probably half a dozen new strands of elfroot too, but who was counting. 

Cadash had enlisted Varric and Cassandra in to help wash and peel, and been about to start themself when they saw Lluciano just. Bite the fucking potato. Raw. 

They damn near knocked it out of his hand. 

“What the hell are you doing with that?” They snapped, and Lavellan pouted back, clutching his raw. Fucking. Potato. To his chest. 

“It’s not green, it’s fine!” He snapped back, like that made a lick of sense. Corin stared at him for a long moment. 

“You know not poisoning you isn’t a sterling recommendation, right?” They asked dryly. Lluciano rolled his eyes. 

“Yeah, but what else am I gonna do? Boil it?” He asked with a huff. 

Corin stared at him a while longer. 

“Yes? Maybe? To make it fucking taste good? Or you could bake it in the fire, cut it up and fry it, literally anything except eating a fucking raw potato?” They demanded. 

Varric scooted away, quietly taking over the stew pot to add his potatoes and water. Cassandra was staring at both of them like she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing. 

Varric also stole the potato she’d been peeling, but she didn’t seem to notice. 

Equally unaware of their audience, Lluciano rolled his eyes again and went to take a bite from his potato. 

“Yeah, right, and maybe I’ll rub leaves on it.” 

This time Corin did knock the potato out of his hand, just as Cassandra finally broke and asked, 

“Have you never had cooked food?” 

All three were now trying to remember if they’d seen Lavellan eat over the week and a half they’d known him. There must have been something. 

Nothing came to mind. 

The elf huffed, glaring at Cadash but not daft enough to try and arm wrestle a warrior. 

“Of course, that’s how I know it’s gross!” 

“You just bit a raw fucking potato!” Cadash threw both hands into the air. 

Varric quietly relieved them of the bitten potato. It joined its brethren in the pot. 

“I’d rather bite it raw than as a pile of dissolving mush!” Lavellan shouted back, reaching mutinously for a raw onion. 

Cassandra hurried to grab them and pull them away from him. At least it got her back into helping Varric, peeling off the skins and cutting them. 

He gave her a companionable nod, most of his attention still on the show the two heralds were putting on. 

“It isn’t mush if you cook it right!” 

“How else are you supposed to cook it!” 

“Bread.” 

Varric and Cassandra turned sharply, the word their first indication that Solas had returned from his wandering. He set down an armful of wood for the fire and gave them both an inscrutable smile. 

“I have seen Lavellan eating bread.” 

“Absolutely zero chance this is a weird Dalish thing then?” Varric asked with a hint of hope in his voice. 

Solas shrugged, taking a seat and looking over their preparations so far. He pulled a handful of herbs from a pouch, pulled out a frying pan, and tossed the herbs and some oil in before placing it over the fire. 

“Nothing is zero chance. Onions, please.” 

Cassandra carefully scraped the cut onions into his pan and he nodded his appreciation. 

“I’m gonna hope anyway,” Varric muttered, turning his attention to some of the dried meats they carried… and looking thoughtfully at Bianca, “I know some great Dalish cooks. It’d be a tragedy to think a whole clan missed out.”  

It wasn’t like they hadn’t already seen wild goats. 

Solas made a noncommittal noise, stirring carefully at his aromatics with a wooden spoon. 

Cadash and Lavellan were still yelling at each other, and a few minutes later the dwarf stomped over and scowled into the fire. 

“We’re teaching the little fucker what actual food tastes like,” they declared bluntly, casting a decisive eye over the food preparations thus far. 

Apparently everything met with approval, since they turned and just glared back at Lluciano. 

“Empty your pack. All your edible herbs and shit. I cannot fucking believe you grab all of them and never tried them.” They ordered flatly. 

“I have tried them, I chew mint all the time. Most of them are gross though,” Lluciano grumbled, but didn’t hesitate to tip out his pack, “I just grab them for other people.” 

“I wish I were surprised you’d just shoved them in your mouth,” Cassandra said with a sigh, fighting a smile. 

Varric shot Solas a quick look, nodding to the potatoes still boiling away. 

“You good to keep an eye on those?” He asked, hand sliding towards his crossbow. Solas glanced over, noted the gesture, and nodded. 

“Certainly, if it means we’ll get something fresh,” he agreed, glancing from Varric to Corin. “Did you have something specific in mind, Cadash?” 

The other dwarf glanced over at Varric too and nodded. 

“Whatever you can find. I’m not thinking too fancy, whatever you guys were doing’ll work, I just want to make a point.” They shot another glare over their shoulder at Luci. He stuck his tongue out at them. 

Solas nodded, pointing his wooden spoon at Cassandra as Varric headed into the woods. 

“Seeker, I’m sure an educated woman such as yourself knows thyme and yarrow?” He asked. 

Cassandra gave him an odd look for a moment, trying to find some kind of insult, but she was never quite sure with Solas. She was just so used to looking for them. 

“Yes; of course.” She nodded, about to rise and join Lavellan, who had obediently dumped out his pack and begun sorting plants. 

The elf interrupted her with a raised hand, thrusting the requested herbs her way. He did not look impressed. 

“They’re both gross,” he told them bluntly, eyes narrowing when they landed on Solas, “and yarrow is a medicine. It’s not for food.” 

“You think raw potatoes are food,” Corin reminded him, and he huffed but gave Cassandra the requested herbs. 

She gave him back all but a single leaf of the yarrow, glancing at Solas for approval as she returned with her bounty. She got it too, a slight flush rising in the firelight as he smiled broadly. 

“Perfect, Seeker. I admit, I’m increasingly curious to see your own cooking,” he said innocently, sprinkling thyme into the aromatics and not looking at her. 

Cassandra immediately backed up a full three feet, arms wrapping around her knees. 

“Yes. Well. Perhaps you will.” She said awkwardly, glaring into the fire. Solas’ smile took on a smug little edge, and Corin very nearly joined him. 

If ever you wanted Cassandra to back off, a single compliment was usually all it took. 

“We’re all gonna taste each other’s cooking at some point,” Cadash said instead, settling by the fire and taking the attention back off their dear shy warrior woman. “Except Lavellan’s.” 

“Cooking sucks,” Lluciano huffed, sitting as well and folding his arms, pretending he wasn’t sneaking peeks at Solas’ pan. 

It was starting to smell really good. 

“Cooking sucks unless it’s done well,” the elven mage offered as a compromise, pulling out a thin metal fork and stabbing it delicately into a potato. He then transferred it to his hot pan. 

Cadash and Cassandra watched with interest as he carefully moved each cut potato, the oil in the pan hissing and spitting but apparently never touching him. 

“Doing a hash?” Cadash guessed, and got their own little approving smile. 

“Something similar. After all, we don’t want dissolving mush, do we?” He asked innocently, his eyes shifting for a moment to Lluciano. 

Who scowled into the fire, pretending he hadn’t been looking. Sniffing. 

Solas was just about done by the time Varric returned, carrying a nug by its feet. He was grinning too, holding up his prize to show them. 

“Should be plenty for all of us, and some left for tomorrow too. That smells fantastic, by the way. I almost stepped on the damn thing sneaking closer for a sniff,” he added with a nod to Solas, sitting and pulling out a skinning knife. 

Lavellan was watching with more interest than sullenness by now, the smells from the pan at least peaking his curiosity. Varric’s return didn’t do much to distract him. 

Solas gave the dwarf a companionable nod, stirring his pan and expertly flipping it. 

“If you can do a quick filet, I’ll keep the pan hot and do them in the last of the oil and we can add them to the hash. Cadash, plates?”  

The other dwarf scooted theirs and Luci’s over, nodding to Varric as well. 

“Thin strips’ll cook faster. If you wanna take the legs off I can break two down to go in?” They offered. 

Cassandra rose for a moment, going into the packs to retrieve her, Solas, and Varric’s plates as well, bringing them back to the fire. 

“I can do the other two, and we could roast the body instead while we eat?” 

It was a very domestic scene, in stark contrast to the day’s travel and multiple fights. Even Lavellan’s sulking didn’t quite break the mood, although he still looked sceptical when Solas handed him a full plate of fried potatoes, onions, and carrot, seasoned with a tiny sprig of fennel. 

Cadash glared at him until he grabbed his fork and took a reluctant bite. And waved their own fork menacingly as he swallowed it straight. 

“Chew it, you animal.” 

Shooting them a token glare, he took another forkful and chewed as over dramatically as possible. 

His eyes widened. 

Solas, now frying the nug strips Cassandra and Corin had prepared, looked unbelievably smug. He dropped a finished strip onto Lluciano’s plate as the elf took another hesitant bite. 

“Try with the nug,” he prompted gently, the soft side that usually only came when talking about his travels in the Fade briefly visible. 

It startled Varric and Cassandra, who hadn’t really bothered talking to him about magic much. 

Lavellan obediently stuffed the whole strip into his mouth along with the veg, now chewing harder because his mouth was overfull, not to be a little shit. 

By the time he finally swallowed his expression was open awe, staring at his companions in real, genuine disbelief. If any of them thought he’d been lying about not eating cooked food before… 

“But… but how did you do that?” He asked, staring from Solas to his plate. “Those were just the potatoes I brought you, and you made them all…” words failed him and he gestured vaguely with his fork. 

Cadash’s worry-disguised-as-irritation melted away into still worried amusement. 

“Delicious, thanks Solas. Seriously though Luci, you’ve never seen cooking before?” It was a little hard to imagine, but easier than any other possible explanations. 

Lluciano shrugged, shovelling in another big bite of hash. He seemed more sheepish than upset now, and more than happy to eat. Which made it all more genuine.

“Well I saw my parents boil everything, and I knew other people in the clan cooked but I thought they must be getting different food,” he explained quietly. 

That answered a few questions, really. Varric grimaced in sympathy, reaching around to pat Lavellan on the shoulder. 

“Sorry to be the ones to break it to you, kid… boiling just doesn’t get the same depth of flavour,” he offered, and Lluciano frowned at him in confusion. 

“You boiled the potatoes,” he pointed out. Varric glanced over to Solas. 

“It’s a good way to get them started cooking, so the middle is ready before the frying burns the outside,” the older elf explained magnanimously, dishing out more slices of nug. 

Lluciano nodded slowly, taking careful spoonfuls at a slightly less breakneck pace now that people expected him to talk too. 

“So… could you show me? This is a lot better than raw,” he asked hesitantly, just the most adorable puppy hope in his eyes. 

“Which is why we’re making sure you don’t just raw dog your dinner again while you’re with us,” Cadash grumbled, pointing at him with their spoon. “I can show you a few things.” 

“I believe we all could,” Solas agreed genially, nodding to the group as a whole. “Perhaps you’ll be ready to make us dinner in turn by the time we return to Haven.” 

That definitely brightened Lluciano up and he nodded earnestly, digging back into his food with vigour. 

The others followed suit, possibly thinking about what they’d like to try and teach an elf whose previous options had been “boiled” or “raw”. 

At least it’d give them something else to do while they got those watchtowers set up. 

—————

And a link back to the master post for organisational purposes

[pyrriax]

For fic recs, outsiders and lifesteal.

cracking my knuckles

(for both of our sanity, i'm going to avoid recommend any of my own work, though it most definitely is out there, lol ;; fics aren't in any particular order than the order i remembered them in!)

Outsiders SMP:

Six Flares Series by kmsquill — Warnings: Major Character Death, Lots of Angst, Blood & Violence — An always recommendation for reading, though I haven't finished the rewritten version, Quill's work is always good. This is focused on the general cast, though different fics diverge and focus on different characters, it runs c!Rasbi-centric Sick, Sick, Sick! by ORPHIC__CAE — Warnings: Drowning — One of my other favorites! I won't say too much to avoid spoilers, but it's focused on c!Owen post-reunion Poor Wandering Man by tbhmellohi — Warnings: N/A — An unfinished fic that can read like a oneshot, it's yet another in the list of c!Owen-centric fics, this one is canon divergent and just overall lovely. Pretty Much Dead Already by tbhmellohi — Warnings: Major Character Death — This one comes with a not-quite warning, since it's a c!Ori-centric zombie apocalypse AU. It is what it says on the tin, however! The characterization here is one of my favorites. Would It Have Been A Mercy To Accept His Fate? Series by Fluffyfifi22 — Warnings: Major Character Death — An AU where c!Owen survives the Meltdown and tails the group during their escape attempt, it's one of my absolute favorite series and a big inspiration to me personally Two Sides Of The Same Coin by Cantspell — Warnings: N/A — Want a break from the angst train? This is about as fluffy and a little silly as it gets. A crossover fic that entails c!Owen and r!Owen winding up in the same world and having to get along, it's sweet and silly for the most part (Self-Indulgence Recommendation) Where The Dust Settles by AvoxUtopia — Warnings: Character & Animal Death, Violence, Blood & Injury — The only fic of mine I'll recommend here: a fan season of the STARR series, it follows a menagerie of original characters in the same settings as Outsiders SMP. Currently in the last stretch of the 3rd Arc!

Lifesteal:

Glass Box by raetae — Warnings: N/A — An s3 Vitalasy-centric fic, there's a lot of references and mentions of people's projects and alliances; it's a good break from the typical contenders for fics! Heartstruck by tempurabbg — Warnings: Violence, Injury — Branzy-centric, it's recently been updated and it's one of my current favorite fics in the fandom Blood Is Sweeter Than The Taste Of Home by EclipsedMoons — Warnings: Cannibalism — Planetlord is a fallen star, he has to eat. Honestly that's just the fic summary but it puts it perfectly. I've talked about this fic briefly on tumblr before? Dear Prince, Held At Arm's Length by MaNicWriting — Warnings: Violence, Body Horror — A royalty AU centered around Branzy/Clown, it's one of the fics I've recommended to multiple people before. Looking Through You, Not At You by Thrills — Warnings: Almost Character Death, Fate Worse Than Death — Vigilante / Superpower AU, this is one I won't say much about because it's one that's 100% worth a blind readthrough aside from reading the tags (Archive Locked) La Petite Mort by whichlights — Warnings: Major Character Death, Violence — Do I have words for this fic? Nope. It's just wormed its way into my brain and will not leave. Digital in Reciprocation by Anonymous — Warnings: Referenced Suicide, Violence — Another one that's wormed its way into my skull. I'd type more about this one (it deserves all the words, frankly) however it's 6am and I should sleep

Aaaaaand that's a wrap for now! I can probably scrounge up some more good recs when I've had a chance to actually work through bookmarkings the fics I like (I keep forgetting to do that and digging through my history is an experience in and of itself.)

Also, to answer this! I did go for some more basic fics, since they're always a safe bet, but basically everything here is actually fics I recommended to one of my friends when it was getting into the fandoms :3

[merryfortune]

heaven sent saviour

Written for Femslash February 2024 and the Sweetheart Bingo from @sweetspicybingo

Day 11. Sky | Fuck Me

Title: heaven sent saviour

Ship: not applicable | Aoi/Kyoko

Word Count: 2,345

Universe: Vrains - Canon Compliant

Rating: T

Tags: Post-Canon, Age Difference, Inappropriate Crushes, Unrequited Attraction

   The last thing she saw was a beautiful sky.

   Bright, endless, and blue. Baira was happy to have been blessed that the last thing she ever saw - and would ever see - was the azure sky which was ever so free. Streaked with white clouds and swirling Data Storms, cut up by a silver outline of the city skyline: the Link VRAINS was beautiful when it was enjoyed in its truest form.

   As a digital video game.

   One that she was not ever meant to log out of but she did.

   Baira became Doctor Kyoko Taki once more and she was arrested. Her location had been tipped off in advance. By Playmaker and his faction, of course. Less pity given to her - an adult, a torturer, a terrorist - than to her leader.

   The skies in the real world paled in comparison to what the Link VRAINS could conjure. Kyoko decided that quite quickly when she became discontent with the fact that she was still alive and ergo, so was their mission. The sky burned in ugly oranges that evening of the arrest and looked even worse through the slats of grey prison bars.

   Though she was thrust back into freedom soon enough. It was forcibly pried open by her cohort. The upper echelon was all that remained and quite frankly, all that needed to remain. 

   So, she put herself back to work again. A lieutenant, a hacker, anything to support the inglorious ambitions of the Kogami patrilineal line. Though this time, she wasn’t on the frontline anymore. 

   A shame.

   She had enjoyed her duel against Blue Angel tremendously but as far as first and only hurrahs went, that was a damn good one.

   Kyoko wanted to be caught. Deep down, she didn’t want to struggle with the burden that she had created for herself by going deeper and deeper into the descent of depravity that Dr. Kogami had called the marching forward of progress. She wasn’t even sure if she had even wanted to be freed from prison but until the time her crime had been dealt with internally, she didn’t want to see the sky from behind prison bars. She had wanted the impending doom of the Hanoi Tower to purify her and her sins in the wake of its detonation but that bomb never went off rendering their efforts fruitless.

   But that duel had been a good one from a standpoint of skill and technicality.

   To have a celebrity Duelist like Blue Angel on the ropes was a good feeling. To feel her struggling in her snare and then fighting back to win, to see her produce results from a miracle, Kyoko relished the reviewing of her own duel. She wanted to get better, too, you know but she was perfectly content with being Blue Angel’s stepping stone.

   Though too bad she had to crash into a certain tree right after.. But she learned from that, too, Spectre was just a crueller teacher than her. No need to wonder where he had learned that, though, truly a case of the student becoming the master in that regard.

   Blue Angel- no, Blue Maiden’s struggle against the insurmountable odds of the have’s and have not’s was also quite admirable, Kyoko found from afar as she monitored the duels from the safety net of the Hanoi’s yacht. Whilst the Leader and Second-in-Command fought, a duality of fate was yielded and Zaizen Aoi was not among the chosen. The victors.

   But she tried.

   She chased after identity, after mentors, after the truth. The little girl who was a girl no more. She would become an adult woman one day. She was going to be strong one day but that day was not today.

   Against Bohman, Blue Maiden had tried so hard from what Kyoko observed. She truly was just like the Water Ignis’ Origin in that regard. It was just a shame that Sugisaki Miyu had succeeded - she won her bread crusts in a duel more often than not - and Blue Maiden was felled by the Light Ignis’ creation.

   But her quiet, blue-coloured strength, Kyoko would do well to commend Aoi for her effort.

   Though these were opinions Kyoko thought she would never get to air. That she thought Blue Maiden was an admirable compatriot in her cause: her allyship to the Ignis and Playmaker’s faction but one whose ideals were in vain. The Ignis were vanquished in the end.

   Even if their creators never turned out to be their destructors like they lusted for.

   It was a shame their end was not really their end. Even when it seemed to be but the Ignis-Origin bond was a peculiar thing. A sixth sense as it were, Spectre could provide evidence of that. Just as he had sensed the Ignis’ death, his inevitable resurrection was also something he twigged upon. It was as though he could smell Earth like a bloodhound, even through the veil of death.

   Revolver had a sixth sense, also, for Playmaker’s movements as his were driven by a single-minded obsession for resurrecting his Ignis.

   “What now?” Kyoko asked. “What of our penance?”

   The answer was obvious.

   If the Ignis could not be killed, then they would be allowed to live. Perhaps this time, if they tried more softly and out of love rather than violence, peace could be established.

   They were no longer in that man’s shadow. They would have to deal with his legacy. Archive it, curate it, but they did not necessarily have to kill it. Not when it was apparent their foe would stop at nothing to prevent them from laying a hand on their targets.

   (To say nothing of the budding sympathies on their own side from a certain previous subject of their experiment…)

   So, they could instead, protect it. Them . This Ignis.

   Though that would require some truces and peace treaties. 

   Thus bringing Baira in front of someone she thought she would never see again: Blue Maiden.

   They had met briefly again, with Aoi inhabiting her Blue Maiden persona, prior to them being soundly thrashed by Ai but they had barely had the chance to say hello. Let alone a chat. But their light and idle conversation, waiting for some sign of the Water Ignis’ return, brought them closer.

   Too close, actually.

   For Baira anyway.

   Blue Maiden had her at an arm’s length. Why waste time resting on one’s laurels in victory, as close as it had been, when she could agonise and dissect where she had gone wrong in a humiliating defeat? Baira had been just that. A stepping stone. But Blue Angel had been much more to Baira than that.

   She had been an angel, after all. Absolving her of her sins. Even for a little while. A fitting defeat for someone who would slowly kill by placing her victims in a deepest sleep with a virus. One she had even been infected with herself so she knew the horror well.

   Yet there were no hard feelings it seemed as Blue Maiden was from what Baira could surmise, her usual self.

   They were waiting for word from on high. Baira, orders from her Leader and fellow Lieutenants and Blue Maiden from Playmaker and his eye in the sky. The silence was comfortable. 

   Until it wasn’t.

   “In hindsight,” Blue Maiden announced out of nowhere as she scanned their surroundings, pretending to look for something she hadn’t already noticed, “I enjoyed our duel.”

   “Me too.” Baira chuckled.

   “It was good for me, I think.” Blue Maiden said. “Helped me grow as a Duellist.”

   “I’m glad.” Baira said.

   The observation was not new to her but she let Blue Maiden enjoy the feeling of thinking it was. 

   “I got catharsis. Defeating the person who put all those people in that coma. The one that I had been a guinea pig for.” Blue Maiden said. “I got to prove to my brother that I’m not some little girl anymore.”

   Baira’s lips quirked with amusement. That caused her to reinforce her guard. She had no idea. No idea at all.

   “It wasn’t enough though. I was still young and dumb and arrogant but I got better. Even if it was for only a minute. I still got to play the hero and save so many lives. I helped. I… I don’t think I helped enough and I still don’t. Maybe I’ll always be insatiable that way but I’m sick of being powerless.” Blue Maiden continued.

   “Understandable.” Baira murmured.

   “One day, I want to duel again and I’m going to win in a landslide.” Blue Maiden said and she glanced at Baira.

   Their eyes met and Baira was overwhelmed by the way Blue Maiden radiated her seriousness. The blue of her eyes was fierce. Competitive. She folded her arms.

   “You better be ready for it. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad we’re on the same side now. Despite everything, or maybe in spite of everything but I want to do it. I want to end the suffering of my friend and you are the most potent symbol of it.” Blue Maiden said, her tone of voice turned ice cold.

   Yet it got Baira so hot underneath her collar.

   It was uncomfortable and yet exhilarating.

   Baira’s stomach knotted. It was all so… romantic. The skylines, her tone of voice, her feelings. Completely and one-sidedly romantic as Blue Maiden spoke lightly, off her sleeve, all her words and revelations coming from mere seconds ago but Baira had already done the detailed autopsy months ago.

   She knew she had a crush on the… younger woman. If she could dare call an underaged girl a ‘woman’ at all. 

   Call it another ethics violation, call it what you will, Baira was well aware of her feelings. Maybe if she was lucky she could call it a fleeting fancy, she hadn’t thought about it months since the duel but the way her heart pounded, she knew it was something a little bit more permanent than a whim. 

   Maybe it was an extent of her circumstances. Some, such as the media or the law, would call it a cult. She would call it a family. For years now, Kyoko was hierarchically submissive to two teenagers after all. Misguided neurons firing on what was and was not normal. That was just the topsy-turvy world that Kyoko belonged to.

   But the way she had enjoyed their duel, what she felt about it and what she had gained from it, it was utterly cathartic for Baira. How was she not meant to fall in love with the heaven sent saviour?

   Zaizen Aoi was entirely oblivious and Baira hoped to keep it that way. So she resolved to keep quiet and stony faced. She wouldn’t give a reaction but the way Blue Maiden looked at her, she wanted something.

   Anything.

   She started to stall for words and gestures when Baira didn’t give her that satisfaction. Not knowing that it was for her own good that she didn’t get that bone.

   So she waited.

   And she waited.

  The only reply either of them got, actually, was to cease the search for today. It was apparent by now that it had been a false reading.

   But even after that. Blue Maiden was hopeful but that hope never paid off as Baira chewed her bottom lip in defiance and so, Blue Maiden never got the satisfaction of the beat, of Baira accepting her writ of challenge.

   That silence from before began to creep into the corners of the internal monologues of the other. Not even it privy to what either one of them was thinking. Though the assumption of guilt did fester, but that was Baira’s assumption, after all. Thus silence, in contrast to the vastness around them, enclosed in them. A silence that wasn’t comfortable nor was it palpable yet Blue Maiden returned to something closer to her bubbly Blue Angel persona once more.

   “So yeah, that’s my spiel.” Blue Maiden said. She kind of danced on the spot, it was hard for Baira to describe as she only watched from the corner of her eye, how Blue Maiden shifted her weight and stretched. It was rhythmic and purposeful if a little awkward, trying to wordlessly clear to the air after her vent. At the end of it, Blue Maiden flashed her a smile and added, “Thank you for listening.”

   “You're welcome.” Baira replied as emotionlessly as she could.

   She felt the same way.

   But she could never let Blue Maiden know. 

   That would cause an issue. Though, the way her heart seized with yearning that felt like thorns in flesh, it was already an issue.

   “That’s my shift done, I look forward to the continued support from the Hanoi now that we are no longer enemies.” Blue Maiden teased.

   “As do I.” Baira said. “Perhaps the initial intention of the Ignis can be salvaged after all.”

   “Perhaps.” Blue Maiden said.

   She didn’t say anything more. Clever girl. She truly had learned some humility and wisdom through her losses. Baira felt a waft of being impressed.

   “See you later, I’m logging out now.” Blue Maiden said.

   “Tata, sweetheart.” Baira couldn’t help herself but the pet name felt bittersweet in her mouth ever so inappropriate.

   Blue Maiden nodded and stepped forward. Her body hit the sunlight perfectly, sunlight bent around her and darkened her silhouette whilst blinding Baira to the actuality of her form. She became haloed, in a way, and part of the ever expanding landscape of the Link VRAINS’ azure and taro-coloured hinterlands.

   There was a flash of data - silver and blue - and she was gone, leaving Baira all alone with the sight of the beautiful, blue sky expanding out in front of her, all Baira could say to herself was…

   "Fuck me." Her voice was breathless as she contended with the turmoil.

   She was so screwed. Fuck her life, honestly, she deserved it. Another victim to destiny who doled out the have’s and have-not’s but she couldn’t not call it penance when her feelings were for an angel and one interested in avenging at that.