#its so fucking sick to see him running back to his original abuser just because hes been lied to and abused again. forgetting all the pain

[tjmsteph]

˗ˏˋ stephanie brown accessible entry point

this is a list of comics to understand the basics of her character! ive seen a lot of people who didnt know where to start to read so ive compiled this list to make it as easy as possible for new readers to get into stephanie brown

who is stephanie brown?

daughter of the criminal and abusive father cluemaster (arthur brown), she became the spoiler to ‘spoil’ her father’s robbery and overall to protect herself and her mother from him. eventually she digs the vigilante life. she becomes robin briefly and is currently one of the batgirls!

as SPOILER:

⟢ secret origins: 80-page giant

this comic /technically/ is set in the future and is steph ‘telling the story of her childhood’ but honestly i find it pretty suitable even with no context and a must read in my eyes to understand her motives and character

⟢ detective comics 647 - 649

her first appearance… with the iconic brick in the face 😭 this comic is not set in a precise timeline, just post-robin 1991 and pre-knightfall so you can read it with no context as well!

⟢ showcase ‘95 #5 (second story)

PLEASE READ THIS i never see it in reading lists and its sooo important to me. it shows steph’s strained relationship with her mother when her dad is not in the picture and briefly some of her school life!

i’d say read robin (1993) afterwards because it consistently features steph, as much as it is ‘tim’s solo run’, but here THE most important stories (they were very hard to pick)

⟢ robin (1993) #3 - 5

her first appearance in the monthly! and lordd the timsteph here makes me sick. tim being saved by steph 🫶 also more on her and her mom as crystal is starting recovery from drug addiction

⟢ robin (1993) issue 15 - 16

not gonna lie, a huge part of me wants me to suggest it because you get to see arthur get his ass kicked by steph (sweet revenge) but theres also steph being saved by tim for a change and more on steph’s relationship with her dad

⟢ robin (1993) #35

this story for me conveys properly the impact that steph’s upbringing had on her sense of justice and morality being fundamentally different from batman and robin’s, something tim and bruce just can’t understand

⟢ robin (1993) #40 - 41

warning / implied SA (ariana ☹️) the story is a two-parter, steph’s side in issue 40 uses diary entries to explain how she feels about the whole vigilante ordeal. issue 41 is more timsteph oriented but it shows tim finally acknowledging his feelings for steph

⟢ huntress/spoiler: blunt trauma

this story happens during cataclysm but its not necessary to read the whole thing + dean’s first appearance 😒 he is the scumbag bastard ‘father of steph’s child’ + helena and steph linkup!!

⟢ robin (1993) #54 and 56-57

BAD CASE OF THE STEPHS MENTIONED + steph and crystal bonding and tim and steph getting together!!! + robin 57 as guilty pleasure :3 their first official date

⟢ robin (1993) #58-65

warning: dixon tackling teen pregnancy. we all know how that goes. remember dean? well steph got pregnant! and that guy bailed on her. dean when i get you. this arc breaks me everytime, steph you deserve the world ☹️

⟢ lewis era robin (1993) aka robin #100 - 120 HEAVY ON ROBIN 111

warning for SA / glimpses on steph’s childhood + dealing with the fact that her father is dead etc etc that will just make you think we should all just kill ourselves yk!!!!

as ROBIN:

⟢ robin (1993) #126 - 128

warning: debatable writing. robin steph! but take everything with like 5 pinches of different salts 😭 its bad y’all but it is essential. dan didio when i get your ass. dan didio when i get youuu

⟢ steph is dead! arc aka batman 634, detective comics 800 and 809, batgirl 62

i fucking hate war games so im not putting y'all through that. here instead: tim being so overcome by grief he can barely react to steph's passing, bruce remembering steph and cass hallucinating her as she is about to die

after that please just imagine that steph came back cause about every issue after her death was the worst ooc writing ever so, again, not putting you guys through that (its tough for stephanie brown fans)

as BATGIRL:

⟢ batgirl (2009)

i wanna say im conflicted about its writing but its about the best thing steph had post-revival. they constantly insult her spoiler legacy so not a fan of that!! but it is essential and i mostly like the rest so whatever :3 steph’s uni arc!

after that honestly nothing happened for her character, so heres on hoping she gets more stuff

[tarosin]

did i do that p2

paring implied past platonic tommy/tubbo/ranboo x reader

tw: cursing, de realisation, mentions of suicide/death/paranoia

TW: de realisation, mentions of suicide/death/paranoia

Dear quackity,

if you’re reading this, it’s too late. you’ve probably noticed me and dream are nowhere to be found, you may ask yourself why did sam let the pair out well the answer to that is simple. he didn’t i’m sure you can find what remains of him somewhere around the prison. you really have yourself to blame, now before you start to get defensive and say ‘i didn’t do anything this is bullshit everyone’s trying to attack me’ let me tell you why. before you decided to give us weekly visits just to abuse us mentally and physically, we couldn’t stand each other. I’d go as far as to say I despised dream, but you helped unite us against a common enemy..you. now we’re unstoppable. I'll spare you the details of what happened to your precious warden. see you soon - Y/n + dream :)

“do you think he’ll be convinced we killed sam?”

“dream i’m in here for the murder of a child, of course he’s going to believe it.”

of course the pair of you didn’t actually kill sam, dream simply manipulated ranboo whilst he was enderwalking into bringing supplies you’d need. you have no idea how he managed, but at this point you didn’t care. you know damn well you shouldn’t be in this prison as you didn’t kill michael. you knew this because the ghost, at least you hope it’s his ghost and that your mind wasn’t messing with you, would stand in the corner of the cell telling you that it wasn’t you who murdered him that night. It was a range of factors: the skeletons, fear, pure exhaustion of trying to run from the mobs after him. you often found yourself ranting to dream about what you had been seeing every night for the past god knows how many months at this point, but alas it was no use. he swore he hadn’t seen anyone but you, occasionally sam, and quackity, definitely not the ghost of michael. It was now midnight according to the clock hanging on the wall. the plan was pretty simple, you would scream that dream had disappeared, causing sam to run into the cell, from then you’d use the rope ranboo gave dream to make temporary handcuffs, and whilst you all make your way to the locker room, where you’d temporarily keep sam assuming quackity would find him sooner or later, then that was it you’d finally be free.

“ready?” you nodded and dream hid in the corner, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being watched, but nevertheless you began screaming that dream disappeared, laughing to yourself as you heard the platform moving towards the cell.

“y/n calm down what do you mean- dream get off of me i don’t want to have to kill you but i will!”

dream rolled his eyes as you tied sams hands together.

“shut the fuck up sam, do you understand how pathetic you sound? you’re outnumbered you’re not going to do anything. if you know what’s good for you and your beloved quackity, you’ll tell us which pocket has your key cards in, okay?” this seemed to trigger something in sam as within 10 minutes you and dream had him in the locker room.

“bye sam, i’m sure your boyfriend will come and collect you soon enough, we left him a letter in the cell and a note from you where you always sit saying to just go on through, don’t miss us too much!”

there you both stood, in-front of the now locked locker room, no home, no friends, no plan, but you were free, that's all that matters to you.

“dream, i have something to ask, okay? promise no matter whatever happens, whether you don’t see me for weeks or you over hear something, you won’t come looking for me.“

“stay safe y/n, a lot of people aren’t going to be happy you’re out. whatever you do, avoid quackity.”

and just like that you went your separate ways, where dream went, you have no idea, you’ll probably hear something soon enough. as for you, well you didn’t really have a plan, you weren't really sure you wanted to be alive at this point. there was a little voice that sounded a lot like tommys ringing in your head, telling you to go to the old base you and tommy made years ago, so that’s where you went. you were clinging onto the hope tommy would be there and let you explain what happened that night, you’d make up then just like old times you’d plait his hair, as the pair of you sat under moonlight listening to whichever disk tommy felt like playing that night. this of course wasn’t the case, instead you were met with previous memories of your friendship. a photo book lay in the middle of the floor as if someone knew you escaped and would go to this base, you shut the door locking it behind you for your own safety, remembering what ranboo said to you the day you were thrown in the prison. picking up the photo book you noticed something odd, the words ‘i know what you did’ and ‘i know where you are’ were scratched into the leather cover. you threw the book onto the floor scared as hell. after you calmed down, you picked the book up from the floor, which was now open on the page of a group photo of you tommy and michael, which ranboo had taken the day you both agreed to babysit him for a while. as you flicked through the book, the images got dark. It went from photos of you tubbo ranboo and tommy laughing at the beach to the night michael was killed. the last page made your blood run cold, there was two photos, one was of michaels funeral, and the second was a picture of you sat in the middle of the base holding the photo book. this was the final straw. You were no longer in control of your breathing, you began feeling like you were being preyed on by something who really wasn’t happy with you and wanted you gone, you picked up the book one last time and everything was gone. the book was back to normal no threatening messages no pictures of michaels death or of you looking through the book, the cover was back to its original state full of happy memories of when you were friends with everyone, back when you were happy.

“hello y/n.”the rooms temperature dropped suddenly you began feeling like you were being watched, you turned around to see michael sat on the floor holding a photo book a lot like the one that caused you to panic.

“hey y/n why are my parents acting like they can’t see me anymore? this isn’t funny anymore, i miss them. can you talk to them?”

“michael... this isn’t real. you’re not real. GET OUT OF MY HEAD!”

everything went silent as if the world stopped turning for a few seconds, that’s when you heard the child laughing.

“what do you mean i’m not real? of course i am!”

“michael darling, you're dead remember, we spoke about this in prison. the skeletons shot you in the nether”

you continued talking to michael, not even realising ranboo had followed you to the base and was watching you talk to the wall.

“who are you talking to?”

you honestly didn’t know whether you felt relieved he was there with you or if you were pissed he found you, either way you ran to him pulling him into a hug despite him constantly telling you to let go of him.

“michael, he’s over there.”

“Is this some sick joke? There's no one there. he’s dead. you killed him!”

“ranboo please.. you, you don’t understand i didn’t kill him. please just let me explain what happened. he was surrounded by skeletons. they shot him please, you have to understand I loved that boy, I still do, I would never do something like that!”

“save it y/n, i don’t want to hear it now if you don’t mind i’m going to go tell sam that you have somehow escaped.”

you fell to your knees as ranboo walked away, you sat alone with the quiet comprehension of the ending of it all before realising if someone comes back you would be in big trouble, just before you was about to begin the long walk back to dream he showed up to the base you were currently crying in, not knowing tubbo and ranboo were not far behind him listening in to your conversation with dream.

“dream please i’m begging at this point. Please end my suffering. I can't do this anymore, no one’s listening to me. I CAN'T KEEP LIVING LIKE THIS! there’s a bow and arrow in that chest over there.”

“y/n, this isn’t a funny joke.”

“dream, do i look like i’m joking?”

“y/n..”

“hey, what can you say? we were overdue.”

tubbo and ranboo couldn’t believe what they were hearing right now, their best friend was about to die and there was nothing they could do about it. as soon as they heard dream open the chest, they ran as fast as they could to go and get tommy.

dream left straight away, it was hard to feel regret when you’re used to bloodshed. tommy couldn’t believe what tubbo and ranboo said and was convinced they were messing with him.

“Oh, I'm sure they did. how’d they get out the prison? did they fly out?”

he stood laughing, tubbo stood staring in disbelief, ranboo stood wiping his eyes trying not to cry knowing it would scar if he did. tubbo shook his head and grabbed his husbands hand for comfort.

“you’re really joking at a time like this?”

“we should tell phil.”

the three of them made their way to phil, guilt following them as they went they couldn’t believe what just happened. after they told phil, they all made their way to the base. as soon as the three teenagers saw the trail of blood dream left behind, they completely broke down and began walking, holding onto each other in an attempt to convince themselves this didn’t happen, and that you would be there. phil went in and saw your lifeless body laying there, knowing the others wouldn’t be able to handle seeing you like this, he sent them away to go and get technoblade. A few days later they found themselves sitting with puffy explaining what happened and what you had told them. realisation slowly hit them that you did in fact not kill michael, they felt awful the three of them couldn’t sleep since the day you passed. after the funeral, they often found themselves at your house as it was the only place that they could sleep and feel as though you were still with them. everyday they would visit your grave, placing anything they found that reminds them of you, and would apologise for not believing you sooner. now you were gone and there was nothing they could do about it.

tags:

@bozowrites

[glitxhwayventeen]

We Might Be Dead By Tomorrow

Minghao: Chapter 1 (Sirens)

Characters: Minghao x female reader

Genre/Warnings: multi-member au (different scenarios), werewolf au, fantasy, smut, angst, fluff, potential blood mentions, genocide, runaways, domestic violence, child abuse, blood mentions, death mentions, gang activity mentions, lots of dick jokes, suggestive content, tiny drug mention if you squint, violence. Any others will be put as warnings when future chapters are thought up/written.

Author’s Note: I recommend listening to Sirens by Cher Lloyd. It’s a strange choice I know. It doesn’t necessarily go with this chapter. But i think it’s actually a pretty good song, so I used it for a loose inspiration for Minghao’s opening Chapter.

Please remember that all of these chapters and the content within them are a work of fiction! They’re just for fun/entertainment!

Bold= Dialogue Italics= Thoughts

Slight 🥀 but mostly ☁️

We Might Be Dead By Tomorrow Master List

Chapter 1: Sirens

These last few days have been some of the best days of Minghao’s life. Not to say he’s had a bad one, he actually considered himself quite fortunate in that aspect compared to his brothers. Most of his pack didn’t even know what Minghao had done before he joined them. They just figured it wasn’t anything good. He had this… bad boy aura about him that they couldn’t quite place. So no one really ever wanted to fuck with him, not that he was complaining. I mean don’t get me wrong, he could do some SERIOUS damage to an opponent, he just didn’t want to have to. He was done with and over all the fighting. He fought his whole life. Now, he was tired. Boy, was he tired. He got so tired sometimes that it felt like his bones were scraping each other and if he didn’t lay down in the middle of whatever he was doing, they’d crack and break apart from his body. He’d never tell his brothers that though, he didn’t like them worrying about him. He wasn’t helpless, he was quite capable of taking care of himself and others. He just never had to because he had the Alphas looking out for the pack all the time. It wasn’t his problem to watch out for anyone and he liked it that way.

That is, until he met you. Before you, he saw the world for all its horrors and terrors. With you around, he saw all its beauty and grace. He never thought that imprinting would be like this. He felt almost high when you were around. No one ever really explained it all in depth to him. He didn’t realize that just someone saying your name would make his heart jump out of his chest. He took one look at you and he realized you were all he cared about. Sure he loved his brothers, but he knew if push came to shove they could protect themselves. Apart of him knew that of course you could too, but for the first time, he actually WANTED to take care of someone.

He always needed to be sure you were okay. He’d ask how you slept, if you ate, how you were feeling, if you were happy. It frazzled his brothers, he’d never done that with them. It was strange seeing such a loving side of him. They knew he loved them because they were his brothers, but they absolutely KNEW he loved you because you were his mate. But seeing him worry himself sick over your well-being was… different to say the least. They were actually pretty sure you had replaced him with an identical looking version of himself when they weren’t looking because, again, he just wasn’t even acting like the Minghao they knew.

You didn’t mind of course. You actually loved that he cared for you so much. You were so tired of having to take care of yourself for all this time. You didn’t think you were very good at it and, quite frankly, it was exhausting. You had been on the run for centuries before you met the pack. It was lonely and if there was anything in this world that you actually hated, it was being all alone. You came from a tribe where the bigger the family, the better. You missed it. So when you realized Minghao had imprinted on you, you couldn’t have been more happy. Because now, not only did you get a mate who loved you more than life itself, but you got his crazy pack brothers too. You figured he loved you anyway, he hadn’t actually said the words to you yet, still, you could just… feel it. You could even feel that his brothers loved you. They reminded you a lot of your original brothers. They were loud and rambunctious, and they’d do anything to protect you because you were their brothers mate. It was perfect.

As you both lay asleep in your now shared bed, you cuddled on top of his toned chest like always, you heard a loud, almost in human, scream from outside. It made you jump almost a foot in the air, and had you falling in the floor. You had let your instincts and guard down quite a bit since you came to live with them a few weeks ago because you felt safe. So the terrible noise from outside scared you a great deal. Minghao was quick to act of course, rushing to scoop you in his arms and quietly rocking you to calm you down.

���Shh. It’s okay baby it’s gone now. Don’t worry. It’s okay, I’ve got you.” He spoke softly as he stroked your hair gently, still rocking you in place.

“I- I know I just wasn’t expecting it. Who the hell screams like that this early in the morning?” You questions, both of you knowing it was more rhetorical than anything.

“More like who screams like that in general.” Minghao said, half joking and half concerned, though he was trying his best to hide it from you.

He had come to realize any sounds out of the ordinary could set you off into a panic attack. He didn’t like seeing you scared, and he didn’t like your heart rate spiking for anyone or anything other than himself.

“I just hope it’s over now-” you start, but just as you were about to finish your sentence, another loud screech forced you to jump from Minghao’s arms and hide under the bed.

He knew he couldn’t help it, it was now part of your instinct to hide in the darkest place possible from danger as you were out alone in the woods for decades and it was the way you kept yourself alive. Still, he couldn’t help the small whine that came from within his chest as he saw you hiding. He hated the fear in your eyes, it made him feel so helpless. He tried to coax you out from under his bed by trying to tell you it was just a passing noise. But, once again, the noise came back. Except this time, you actually managed to hear it without the sleepiness or your mating pull clouding it. Oh no! You quickly go out from under the bed and grabbed onto Minghao.

“Hao, where are the other boys??” You asked quickly, the fear in your eyes seeming to amplify.

“Probably asleep, like we should be so let’s-” he tried, still wanting to attempt to get more hours.

“No Hao! We need to find them. We need to find ALL OF THEM right now!” You all but yell as you quickly grabbed a pair of shorts, slipped them on, and threw open your bedroom door.

“(Y/N)! What the hell?? They’re all sleeping come on let’s go back to bed” Minghao whined, clearly not understanding the gravity of the situation.

You ignored him as you opened the door closest to your bedroom, you were greeted with Chan sitting on the edge of his bed, you could tell he was also woken up by the loud scream. Good, he’s safe. Now the others.

You then opened the door across the hall from your room. In it, you found Seungcheol yawning putting on pants in order to try and investigate the strange noise. You then pushed open Joshua and Jeonghan’s rooms, in them, you found both boys to be just as shocked from your actions as Minghao was. But nevertheless they were safe so you didn’t care how crazy you looked. After them, you dashed to Jun and Soonyoung’s shared room, letting out a quick relieved sigh seeing them both already standing close to their door.

You kept doing this until you had finished your rounds of Jihoon’s, Seokmin’s, Seungkwan’s, Wonwoo’s, and Hansol’s rooms respectively. You were so beyond happy that all the boys were okay that you almost cried real tears, they were already brimming at your waterlines.

“(Y/N), we all heard the noise. But it just sounded like someone yelling. We’re all fine. You worry too much.” Seungcheol assured you, giving you a small pat on the head to show gratitude for your care for them.

“No Seungcheol. You don’t understand. That wasn’t just any random villager screaming. That was something more vile than you could even imagine. And it prays on men, specifically horny-” you stopped yourself mid-sentence. “Wait.” You paused. “WHERE’S MINGYU??” you said, realizing very quickly that one of the wolves you were thinking of while saying your piece was unaccounted for.

You dashed to his room and busted the door open. And sure enough, his big ass form was there laying in bed, sleeping like a baby. Thank God.

“Alright. Somebody’s been hanging around Jun’s paranoid ass too long.” Hansol joked your way, earning a chuckle from a few others as well.

“Hey!” Junhui tried to defend himself.

“No you guys don’t get it. That scream, that was a siren’s victory call. I was legitimately worried for your lives.” You protested, Minghao coming up behind you to wrap his arms around your waist.

“A siren? What’s that?” Chan asked as all the boys looked to you for elaboration.

Boy, you sometimes forgot how young and inexperienced with the supernatural they were. They were far better with people than you were that’s for sure, but when it came down to other magical beings, it was like you were speaking a different language. And you only really ever did that with the foreign wolves as you knew both English and Chinese.

“A siren’s one of the most deadly creatures you can find. They look like regular people, most of the time, they’re absolutely beautiful. That’s what makes them so scary, they look like angels. But they’re pure evil, they lure people to their deaths late at night, mostly men. Mostly horny men. They use them for sex, to procreate. Then they kill them in brutal, horrible ways. Afterwards, they let out that God awful scream. That’s why I got so worried with you guys, I thought that…” you trailed off, shrugging your shoulders slightly.

“That what? One of us got our dick wet and our head chopped off?” Joshua laughed out, clearly amused that you considered them all horny men.

“Well yeah, kind of. You can’t blame me. I know what most of you go to the village for late at night. When I realized what the scream was, I just had to make sure you were right. I didn’t want to wake up the next morning to have to go out and find a fucking body.” You huffed as Minghao gave you a small peck on your shoulder to try and ease your tension.

“Well, thank you for caring for our safety. But we’re big boys. We can take care of ourselves. Well most of us…” Soonyoung assured you, standing more proud than he should’ve as he looked at Jeonghan.

“Yeah… that’s kind of what I’m worried about…” you let the joke pass your lips, trying your best not to laugh.

The other boys went into a roar of laughter as Jeonghan tried his best to hide his own amusement behind a fake angry face. The laughter seemed to be just enough noise to wake the life of the party up finally.

“Hey guys” Mingyu yawned. “What’s gonna on? Why are we laughing?”

“Well (Y/N) seems to think we’re gonna get our dicks chopped off.” Jeonghan responded to Mingyu, earning another quick chuckle and a slap from Jihoon.

“Oh well… that’s nice… any particular reason it’s me and you or is everyone else invited to the dick chopping party too?” Mingyu spoke again, trying his best to hide his obvious confusion with a joke.

“No man. It’s mostly you two.” Laughed Seungkwan. “You’re the ones who always seem to need to bury your dicks in something, not us”

You snort as you turn yourself to bury your face into Minghao’s chest, now wanting to go back to sleep knowing everyone’s alright.

“Alright alright you horny kids. All jokes aside.” Joshua spoke up. “(Y/N) how serious is this siren threat?”

“Well I’ve seen one siren take out half a town before. So pretty serious I’d gather. I dont know where all this dick chopping came into the conversation, but I’d say everyone needs to stay inside once it gets dark out until further notice, just to be safe” you mumble out from Minghao’s chest.

“Okay guys. You heard the all knowing wolf lady” Seungcheol said, earning a playful glare from you. “No more going out at night. Not for a while. No exceptions. All dicks must remain in tact” he declared.

“Aw man” Mingyu pouted, he was disappointed but also understood that the pack’s safety came before his hormones.

You let out a small giggle as Minghao lightly laughed as he placed a little kiss on the top of your head.

“No that’s enough excitement for one night. Everyone back to bed. We’ll talk more in the morning.” Joshua decided, ushering everyone back into their rooms.

Once your bedroom door was closed, Minghao picked you up mumbled an “I’m exhausted” before he placed you on the bed, the bags formed under his eyes showing you just how tired he must be. He joined you moments later and hovered himself over you.

“Do you really think the guys will stay inside because of the siren?” He questions while moving a lock of your hair behind your ear. You clasp your hands behind the back of his neck and place with his hair.

“Hmm. Don’t know. I guess we’ll see. If someone wakes up without a dick, we’ll know they didn’t listen” you said with a cheeky ass smile, much to the delight of your loving mate.

“Got it, no dick means they’re the siren’s bitch” he said aloud causing you to chuckle at his thought process.

“I promise I’ll still wake up with mine though” he added, earning a sweet smile from you. God, what did he do to deserve such a cute little mate?

“Good. I’d be real disappointed if you woke up with it gone.” You playfully pout, stroking his cheek during your sentence to further add to your point.

“Well you know how I hate to disappoint love” he said, a hint of mischief in his eyes as he pecked your lips with a bit more passion than you thought he would’ve used this early in the morning.

“I thought you were tired?” You questioned as best you could while he was trailing his kisses down to your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin gently.

“I was.” He mumbled into the crevice of your neck. “But I realized just how hard it is to resist your cute self. So now I’m thinking of some… other things we haven’t quite gotten to just yet” he answered with a playful smirk, making his intention completely obvious to you. Boy, this morning was already off to a fun start.

Another Author’s Note: I know what you guys are thinking, you’re thinking I meant succubus. But I meant Siren. There’s many different versions of both and I just happened to use the Siren version where they sing the men to lure them to their deaths on land. On another note, I finished three chapters in one day. I’m a bit proud not even gonna lie. I hope you guys liked this one. Minghao’s next chapter will be smut as I want to get their first time together out of the way as soon as possible. I don’t really know why. It just feels right you know?

(Updated 7/27)

[idontmeantosoundrudebut]

Many of Horror (Chapter two - That awful dream and these awful feelings)

- N O T E S -

This chapter immediately begins with a dream, so sorry if you get confused or whatever haha lol bruh! This chapter does contain mentions of referenced suicide, panic attacks, past abuse and other depressing and relatable things lol! be warned! I'm releasing this on impulse because I really wanted to give you guys more and I'm halfway done with the next chapter, which is really fucking steamy by the way so, yeah, be excited for some horizontal tango action haha lol bruh! If you enjoy, please leave a comment or a critique or whatever, I love hearing feedback about my work like any other creator! (no tea, no shade)

Also, there is terrible terror called Pain from DOB and though they’re originally male, I’ve switched them to female because I felt like it haha lol bruh!

THIS CHAPTER HAS PSYCHOLOGICAL HORROR AND POOR MENTAL HEALTH! BE FUCKING WEARY!

- C H A P T E R  S U M M A R Y -

It's that awful dream again, he always has it when something goes wrong, when something changes suddenly. His head can't take change, can't take it when he messes up.

And he's always so angry and afraid when he wakes up. Surely, he should be better by now.

He hates feeling like this, like he's dying.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He's in his childhood home. He doesn't know how he got here. They burnt that hut down years ago, a week after his father was exiled. He's standing in front of the hearth, the fire within writhing maliciously and crackling with laughter as it mocks him don't know where you are, little boy? You're home, home, home- This place isn't his home.

Snotlout doesn't belong here.

He sniffs the air and cringes at the smell of stagnant water and old blood. Something's died in here. Turning around, he stills at the sight of the corpse of a fawn lying mangled and blooded at the foot of the stairs, eyes bulging and guts tangled amongst its dainty legs, back so mauled that he can see the knobbly, pale arch of its spine.

Something innocent has died here, in this house, and it wasn't her, it croaks through a swollen tongue, teeth cutting through its cheeks with each hallow word that crawls out of its twisted throat. It's looking at him, stuck between life and death, and it's like looking in a reflection.

A black rabbit hops down the stairs, leaping over the mutilated fawn and sitting beside it. It seems calm, serene, despite the heavy stench of blood and dead water that hangs in the air, it seems at peace amongst the smell of death. The rabbit, blacker than grief, turns its head to look at him and it's like looking into a starless night, still and empty, but the flames appear in those eyes and dance in the blackness. An inferno in the dark.

There is something in the woods. You should go to speak to it, the black rabbit says and Snotlout can smell the blood in the air thicken, but there is still that undertone of stale water and he doesn't know where it's coming from.

I don't want to speak to it, he replies honestly, voice distant and quiet, and there is something inside him that says Whatever is in that woods is something better left forgotten, its something that shouldn't be spoken to.

But it wants to speak with you, the black rabbit replies and the fawn screams, It wants to speak with you, don't disappoint, be quick, don't be weak, it wants to speak with you, don't become the shame, hurry, it waits, don't make it wait, it wants to speak with you, don't disappoint, no rest for the innocent, hurry shameful boy, it wants to speak with you-

The fawn just keeps screaming. Glimmering scarlet gathers beneath its yapping jaw as more flesh is ripped from its cheeks, teeth not meant to taste blood flashing through the torn fur and cutting deep into its purple tongue, its blind eyes rolling to the back of their sockets and revealing thin, throbbing veins. It screams and screams like a tortured thing begging for death, yet still, it hangs on to the faint pulse in its heart. The black rabbit looks to the wailing fawn, then back to him.

Come to the woods. Let the innocent one scream in peace, the black rabbit says softly, hopping past him, large feet thumping against the wooden floor. The fawn keeps screaming. He asks it to stop, politely too, but he must have been too quiet. Still, it screams and screams.

A white light catches his eyes and he looks up to the landing where the stairs lead. There is a door there, left a jar and spilling blinding white light in a rectangular beacon. Steam rolls from underneath the door and through the gap, it is tinged red and smells of stale water, of dead blood. That door leads to the washroom.

To the woods, he'll go to the woods, he says simply, turning away from the screaming fawn whose body refuses to die and the door that leads to a room of blood and water.

Snotlout doesn't belong there.

He follows the black rabbit into the old wood. The trees are tall and black, reaching towards the terribly blue sky like their hungry for the sun, and their thin branches scrape against his bare arms like ghosts begging for a body to live in. Spring flowers and damp ferns brush against his legs and they also feel like hands, softer but still starving, still wanting. He follows the black rabbit, not because he wants to but because he has to.

It wants to speak with you, he hears the fawn scream in the distance.

He stops walking and stands very still, like a dear caught in an ambush. A few yards ahead in a sunlit clearing is a copper bathtub. That shouldn't be here, in the middle of the woods, it should be back at the house, in the washroom. The black rabbit runs ahead, a dark shadow against the pale grass, and disappears behind the tub.

Just like Snotlout, it doesn't belong here.

He walks closer and he smells it again. That smell of damp death. He can taste it now too, it's so strong, a coppery, stale wash across his tongue, between his teeth, down his throat. It's what he imagines it's like biting into a dead fish, all rotten blood and foul water. Suddenly his feet are bare, they make a slapping sound as he walks and he looks down to see that the ground is flooded with an inch of water. It looks dirty, wrong, tainted.

There's an arm hanging over the side of the bath tub. Was that there before he looked down? He can't remember, but it shouldn't be there. The hand is ivory in pallor, bone-pale, and two long gashes run up the inner arm from wrist to elbow. Dark blood drips from the nimble fingertips, the sound a soft drip, drip, drip as it hits the sodden soil. The trees ache and groan, they feast on the given blood through their gnarling roots that toil the black, wet earth and he thinks that they are alive. Alive and hungry.

Just like Snotlout, it doesn't belong there.

For some strange reason, he wants to hold that blood-slick hand. He imagines like that's what home feels like, cradled in her scarlet palms, gathered in her savaged arms. Her. When did it become a her? His heart told him so, oh Gods, he's so confused.

He stands at the foot of the copper tub and looks inside, expecting to see a woman with a painfully familiar face. But all he sees is blood. From bottom to brim, the tub is full of almost-black blood that glimmers red from the dappled sunlight above. The taste of blood on his tongue is so heavy that he thinks he might have a mouth full of it. A mouth full of blood and a heart full of water.

A single eye opens amongst the ocean of blood and he stares at it. It's pale and blue like a blue jay's feathers, like the terribly blue sky. He recognises those eyes, they look like his, just dead.

Always had her eyes, comes a snarling drawl and he spins around to see a great bear, stood tall and proud on the trunk of a fallen tree. He knows this place, he knows that tree, oh no, Gods, not this place. Great currents of slobber drool from the crooked mouth of the bear, sharp teeth yellow and glistening as a long tongue works around words it shouldn't be possibly speaking. Bears can't talk, but neither can black rabbits and mauled fawns.

It wants to speak with him.

Always had her eyes, wished I cut 'em out, the bear slurs as it slams a clawed paw down upon the tree, white bark spraying everywhere and he watches as those black claws curl deeper into the soft bark. He cut that tree years ago, a month after his father left, he cut it down and screamed.

Yer sick, boyo, there's somethin' festerin' inside ye, the bear bellows, spit flying and it leaves his ears ringing. He presses his hands to the side of his head and shakes it furiously. He's gone, he got rid of him, he's never coming back.

The bear laughs and it is a horrible sound, like cracking whips, like splitting flesh. I never left ye, lad, I'm always with ye, in that messed up head of yers, just as weak as yer mother's was, just as easy to break, the bear steps closer, further shredding the bark from the tree, and he is full of so much fear that it feels like there is a rabid animal in his chest. His hands feel heavy all of a sudden and he looks down to see that they're covered in blood, bright, terrible blood that falls from his fingers in great ribbons of scarlet that darken the water. The blood never stops oozing, like there is a great gash in his palms, but he can't help thinking that this isn't his blood. His heart is so scared, it's going to climb up his throat and out his mouth so it can run away.

No nono no nono no no no no no- She wasn't weak, she was brave, she was the strongest shield-maiden Berk has ever seen, she was-

WEAK! The bear roars, the sun in the sky trembles like it will fall, SHE WAS WEAK AND ILL, AND SHE'S GIVEN IT TO YE, SHE'S MADE YE SICK AND FOUL WITH WEAKNESS! The fallen tree flies across the clearing with a powerful swipe of its clawed paw and Snotlout watches it come closer, fearsome and monstrous and ugly, lips rolled up to reveal those gnashing teeth that glisten with starved spit, eyes blazing with an unimaginable evil. He looks down and sees that his hands are bound with rope, rope that burns and stings and cuts as he tries to escape, to run away.

YE WILL NEVER GET AWAY FROM ME, BOYO, IM YER OLD MAN AND YER MY SHAMEFUL SON, THE BOY WHO COULD NEVER GET IT RIGHT!

The bear rears back onto its back legs and its maw opens so wide that the flesh tears and the jaw breaks, leaving it and its tongue to hang loosely. A tremendous bellow fills the woods and the trees quiver, the earth quakes. Blood pours onto the heaving furred chest and streams down with a wet sound to the half-flooded earth, the already murky water staining pink. He stares up at the beast and gazes down its gaping throat, he has never felt so full of dread before.

Suddenly, the great bear begins to fall and he lets out a horrified scream as that open maw, that black throat, descends upon him. He leaps back into the copper tub to escape and finds himself consumed by blood.

Snotlout doesn't belong anywhere.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Snotlout wakes up, screaming and falling.

He hits the floor with a sudden abruptness that knocks the air from his lungs and the scream still crawling from his throat comes to a stuttering halt, choking coughs now filling the blackness of his room. But that blackness soon retreats as the great blazing head of Hookfang forces its way through the skylight windows, looking around hastily before settling his cautious eyes on Snotlout, who lies pathetically on the floor beside his bed. The dragon crawls into his room and lowers the flame on his hide as Pain kindles a few candles in a short, fiery breath.

The dream? It came again? Hookfang rumbles, curling his large body up and resting his head on Snotlout's lap, expelling easing smoke from his nostrils. The violet Terror crawls swiftly from her nest of charred tunics and other burnt fabrics on the dresser to nestle herself close to his side, her usual fiery temper simmering down to accommodate to his sensitive nerves. His skin is caked in a layer of cold sweat but he feels so hot, like a furnace is blazing inside him, like a fever is boiling beneath his flesh. It leaves him shivering.

"Yeah, yeah it did," He responds, voice rough and cracked, breathing in the warm scent of smoke so it can overwhelm the still lingering smell of blood and water (it was a dream, but it follows him when he's awake, it echoes around him like a ghost).

Rubbing a hand over the side of his face, Snotlout tries to collect his thoughts and rid the dream from his memory, tries to think about other things, tries to distract himself before he starts to feel... the Itch. But then he remembers the blood. Not the blood in the bathtub or the fawn-blood at the bottom of the stairs, but the blood on his hands, that heavy blood, that blood that wasn't his. With panic rising in his throat, he lays his hands before him and inspects them with sharp eyes, expecting to see blood crusted in his callouses or dug beneath his nails, something to show that it was real. But there is no blood, there never is. But the candles flicker from a rogue breeze and in the shifting shadows, his hands go red and a scream is already gathering in his chest because, oh Gods, the blood is real and that means it was all real and the tub is in the woods and the bear- Oh Gods, not the bear- He's back and he's in the woods! A distant howl rings through his ear; He wants to speak with you! Hurry-

A guttural sound breaks the maddening spell Snotlout had caught himself in and he blinks, but he doesn't stop staring in fear at his hands, they look clean now but in the dark, in the dark the blood comes and the hungry things in the shadows can smell it. Pain rises onto her hind legs and begins to lick at his hands, cleaning them thoroughly with her forked tongue, soft sounds chittering in the back of her lithe throat. No blood, see? I taste no blood, so there is none.

"I know," He chokes out, the breath stuck in his chest forcing itself out harshly, and he sooths a hand over her head in a thankful gesture, her purple scales silk-like and warm beneath his palm, "I know, Pain,"

Hookfang's purring fills the room like thunder. Snotlout can feel it in the floor, in his bones, a gentle tremble throughout his body that helps him try and regain his focus. Pain, always quick to doze off, starts to purr a lighter and chipper sound in her sleep. They know the routine; it's been going on for years.

Snotlout sighs and wishes he was normal, wishes he didn't have these awful, repetitive nightmares and these violent urges and these ugly thoughts. Wishes he could deal with it alone because it's less trouble for the others, both his dragons and his friends, he wishes he wasn't such a bother to them. He wishes he could go back, back before it all happened, and be the old him, be that innocent child before he died in the house.

Gods, he wishes Eret was here.

Eret is so good at getting Snotlout out of his head, whether it be by fucking him or talking to him or just by simply sitting with him, no one knows how to ease the wrongness in his head better than Eret. But, to Snotlout's displeasure, Eret is traversing the archipelago on this good deed and Snotlout is here, alone and rotting. Damn the Gods, he hates feeling like this.

"Four times this week I've had that stupid dream, Hookfang, four times!" He emphasises this by holding up four fingers to the dragon, who nods in response with another plume of smoke to ease his frustration, "If this keeps up, I'm not going to be on top of my game, you know? And I bet Hiccup will notice like he notices everything, and he'll ask if I'm okay and I'll tell him fine and then I'll feel bad because I lied and-"

Stopping abruptly, Snotlout shoves his face into his hands and screams as hard and as loud as he can, he feels it ripping through his throat. It's lucky that he built his house so far away from anyone else. There is a crawling feeling moving across his flesh and its making him want to do something really stupid, something he'll regret, something weak. Hookfang croons at him, lifting his head as Snotlout draws his legs up to his chest, his left leg bouncing rapidly. Rudely awoken, Pain rubs her horned-head lightly against his side in attempt to sooth him.

Not Snotlout fault, Snotlout done nothing wrong, Hookfang reassures as he rubs his lower jaw over Snotlout's dishevelled hair, deep purrs vibrating throughout his body as he tries to sooth the harsh, ugly scents that pour from the Viking.

Yes, Snotlout done no bad, we promise, no bad has been done tonight, the Terror adds in earnest, nipping affectionately at his tunic as she hums to him.

"I know, I know," He snarls into his palms, both legs now bouncing as he digs his blunt nails into his browbone, "But I will, I will, I'll fuck up again and I'll need it again,"

The dark thing in his head swells like a storm-sodden cloud and it thunders and rumbles and cracks behind his eyes, sending jolts of impulsive, disgusting thoughts through his head.

TEAR OUT YOUR EYES. FLAY YOUR SKIN. RIP OUT YOUR NAILS. KILL THEM BOTH.

He shakes his head violently, as if he could through them from his mind, and pulls his hands away from his face, fingers twitching and palms sweating. There have been nights where the smallest temptation sets him loose.

Go see Hiccup, he will help, he will give you council, Hookfang advices as always, but Snotlout, for the fourth night in a row, dismisses the idea with a savage scowl and a dark look in his eyes.

"I can't run to Hiccup every time I want to hurt myself-"

The words trigger a reaction and in a sudden moment of impulse, Snotlout slams his fist into the floor, the wood splintering beneath the impact and his knuckles sting as they're impaled with shards of wood. Pain makes shrieks at the loud impact and immediately goes to his injured hand to clean it but Snotlout makes a snarling sound and wraps his arms tightly around his chest, as if he's trying to secure them so they can't do any more damage. She snorts disapprovingly at him but she knows he will ask for help when he wants it, so she curls up at his side again, jasper eyes only half-closed.

"Or to anyone, for that matter! I'm not a kid anymore, okay?! I'm Twenty-two, I'm an adult. Everyone's got their own problems and I'm not going to burden them with mine, not when I can deal with them myself," Hookfang, as well as Pain, lets out a scoff at that and he doesn't flinch at the death-stare thrown his way, which doesn't surprise Snotlout but it still damages his ego a bit.

"I can! I don't need you, or Hiccup, or anyone! You understand me, you stupid dragon!? I don't need anyone, not even Eret!"

But the fury in his voice catches in his throat at the mention of Eret and again Snotlout is full of the overwhelming sense of loneliness that has flooded him since he left Berk. His heart, the traitorous thing, aches at the mere thought of him and his hands, the stupid things, feel so empty without someone to hold on to.

He doesn't know why he's denying the obvious truths in his life. That's something the old him used to do, the angry boy who suffered alone because he believed he deserved it, because he thought asking for help was below him. Snotlout isn't that angry boy anymore, no, he understands the wrongs that were done to him and understands that asking for help isn't a weak thing. But old habits die hard, he guesses.

Without a shadow of a doubt, he needs Hookfang and Hiccup and, by the Gods, he doesn't just need Eret, he wants him. And it's beautiful because Eret wants him back and Snotlout is always left in awe at that.

"I'm being stupid again, aren't I?" Snotlout mumbles sadly, looking up to see Hookfang gazing down at him, orange eyes unimpressed, and he nods his head with an additional snort to support his answer. He looks down to see Pain stood rigidly beside him, tiny-lethal teeth bared and arrow-head tail darting left and right, and to further prove her wrath, she lurches forward and give him a shallow slash of her claws. It doesn't even cut the skin, just leaves three white lines on his forearms.

Snotlout exhales through a thin laugh, but the guilt is still heavy in his blood.

"I'm sorry, you guys, I'm not feeling myself again, with these dreams coming back and Eret gone. I just wish I could, you know, deal with things normally,"

Forgiving Snotlout, Hookfang again lowers his head and presses it up against Snotlout's drawn up legs, Pain too scuttles back to her place at Snotlout's side, teething devotedly on the corner of his tunic. A chill draft wafts in through the open windows and cools Snotlout's skin, which feel hot and tight.

We understand, Snotlout miss mate and the bad dreams back, We understand, Hookfang grumbles reassuringly, tendrils of smoke rising from flared nostrils, and he watches as Snotlout lifts his injured hand, slowly picking out the splinters in his knuckles with a look of deep focus on his face.

"I'll be back to my old self soon, pal, I just-"

He pauses, hissing as he methodically drags out a long splinter from the flesh between his index and middle knuckle. Holding it up against the candlelight, he marvels at the half-inch long shard of wood that had been nestled his flesh, thick syrupy blood dripping from the splinter onto his lap.

The pain that spreads across his hand and flares up his arm feels good, harsh and familiar and good, it brings a sigh of relief to his lips. The pain feels like absolution. His previous wrongs have been righted in the hotness of pain.

Then, Hookfang's nostrils quiver and his head shoots up quickly, turning to the open skylight with his teeth bared and eyes narrowed., Pain too takes up an offensive stance with ferocious growls unfurling in her throat. Snotlout swallows thickly when he hears the heavy beating of wings outside, his stomach twisting in anxiety because no one should be here, no one is supposed to see him like this, not tonight. He wants to be alone tonight. The roof creaks when a great weight settles upon it, dust pouring down to the floor in chalky streams. He stares wide-eyed and apprehensive at the square-view of the black night, heart pounding because something inside him is say he's back, he's back and he's going to take you to the woods.

But instead, Cloudjumper's head peers into the room, owlish eyes gazing down at him with a curious concern.

Why are you here? Hookfang spits lowly, his tail swishing in a display of irritation, Yes! Why Four-Wing here?! Not allowed! Go or Die! Pain adds hotly, tiny wings thrashing as she claws threateningly into the floor.

Cloudjump, amused and unafraid, snorts at Hookfang's brashness and Pain's threats, replying with a garbled I heard screaming, it sounded painful, so help has come.

"Help isn't needed right now, thank you, bye," He says crassly, arms wrapping around his chest defensively as he glares up at the Storm-Cutter, who stares back with soft eyes, completely ignoring the yapping Terror and the glaring Nightmare.

"Oh, I don't know about that," comes a serene voice and Snotlout watches as Valka descends downs into his room, perched on Cloudjumper's clawed wing. She easily steps off and steps forth to cradle Hookfang's jaw, the moody Nightmare instantly melting in her gentle touch. Pain forgets immediately why she was angry and scuttles swiftly to Valka, winding between her ankles like an affectionate alley cat begging for love (or food).

While crooning at the puppy-eyed Terror, Valka looks to Snotlout with a soft and reassuring expression, her eyes glimmering in the candlelight as they gloss over with empathy. She can see the tears stains that have yet to dry, see the stress and the tiredness and the fear. Snotlout stares back, jaw set and muscles stiff, she isn't meant to be here.

"You look like ye need a bit of help there, dear," Valka says as she crouches down, half crawling towards him, agile fingers gracing the floor.

It's the same movement she does when she meets a dragon who's wild and scared, ready to strike out in fear with its teeth bared and claws flexing. He feels a bit of pride that he's seen as a deadly thing, but then he remembers that he doesn't want to be feared anymore, that he doesn't want to hurt anyone.

Oh but you do, don't you? You think about it, you imagine blood and you hunger for the taste. People are traitorous creatures and they deserve-

"Snotlout,"

The voice knocks the grating snarl from his head and Snotlout looks up to see Valka crouched a few feet before him, cautious yet calm as she gazes questioningly at him. Can I come closer? She asks with her eyes, eyes that are so painfully familiar to him.

Those are his mother's eyes right there. Sister eyes.

He nods his head once, lungs still seized and heart still shaking, and then he nods again, firmer this time, trying to be braver because, Gods, it's only Valka, his aunt, his heart-mother. Snotlout shouldn't be afraid of her. But she's got a heart full of kindness and that has always scared him, kindness.

Kindness was an unfamiliar hand to younger him and it was easier to cling onto the hand that beat him, the familiar closed fist that promised tough love would make a man out of him. He'd bite the hand of kindness because it was a stranger's hand, he didn't know kindness.

But that was years ago, that angry boy who bit and spat at empathy is no more and Snotlout can now gather the courage to ask for kindness, sometimes he doesn't even have to ask. Still, it always leaves a tightness in his chest because... What does he do with all that kindness? Where does he put all the love given to him? In his heart, his black, scarred, twisted heart? No, but then where?

A hand, soft-skinned and porous-boned, cards through the hair on the back of his head and the trapped air is liberated from his seizing lungs, falling from his lips in a long, shaky exhale. He blinks the blurriness from his eyes and turns to sees Valka sat beside him with Pain coiled in her lap, a very gentle look on a face as she looks at him.

"A very bad habit that, gettin' lost in ye head. I'm afraid ye might get it from me, you know, Hiccup's always gettin' himself roped up in his thoughts too." She says quietly, as if she's scared she'll spook him if she speaks too loud, "Ye both think too much,"

He laughs at that, a dry, humourless laugh that's sounds gravely and dark in the back of his scorned throat.

"You know, I've been told I do the exact opposite of thinking too much," Snotlout replies, flexing his bloodied hand in front of him and revelling in the stinging pain that ripples through his nerves.

The deeper cuts on his knuckles have oozed heavy rivulets of blood down his fingers and have seeped into the callouses on his palms, a few veins of red have even made their way down his bare forearm. He looks down at the brilliant red and it looks like he's killed someone, or something. This is the blood of his guilt.

Valka's breath hisses as she inhales through her teeth, her hands reaching forward and cradling his gently as she looks over the weeping wounds. The careful gesture leaves him with goosebumps, it's the distinctive touch of a mother's hand. A hand he has longed to hold since he was a child.

"Yer stronger than ye realise, Snotlout, goin' to hurt ye'self badly one of these days," Valka whispers and Snotlout swallows, swallows the horrible urge to scream in her face-

THAT'S THE POINT! DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND?! I NEED TO! IT'LL MAKE ALL THAT GUILT GO AWAY IF IT HURTS BAD! THE PAIN, OH SWEET, FAMILIAR PAIN! IT STOPS ME FROM RUNNING BECAUSE IF I START, I WON'T BE ABLE TO STOP! I'LL RUN AWAY AND NEVER COME BACK!

Snotlout swallows all those terrible truths and oh how they swoon in his gut, like flocks of terrible birds in a terrible cage. It's all so terrible.

"Can't help it, you know, I'm brawn and no brains, all that stuff," He smiles awkwardly, watching her inspect his bruising knuckles and pick out the smaller splinters he missed. The pain is small, a petty penance.

"Well, I know that's not true, not when I see ye and Hiccup planning our raids-" Valka stands up and starts to roam around the room, stepping over Hookfang's smoking snout to get to the chest at the foot of Snotlout's bed, "You're a great strategist and I have never known a time where your instincts have failed us,"

Pain steps onto his lap and begins to clean the bloody cuts, Snotlout lets her and places a hand on her back between her wings, thumbing at a soft spot along her spine. She chitters gratefully. The chest opens with a quiet sound and Valka delves her hands inside, rummaging for a few moments before retrieving a bundle of bandages.

It's common knowledge among the gang where he keeps all his belongings, they all basically know his house better than he does at this point. It seems that so does Valka.

Hookfang grunts and babbles randomly as he shifts in his sleep, dragging his head across the floor and making Valka's journey back more hazardous, but she deals with it with as much grace as a woman who's lived amongst bumbling dragons for over twenty years. Curious, Snotlout looks to the skylight and sees Cloudjumper observing Valka with that fond and comfortable look he sometimes catches Hookfang giving him. The ceiling heaves with the Storm-Cutter's great breaths, it looks the house is alive, alive and breathing.

Alive and hungry.

"Now let's get these wrapped up, eh?" Valka crouches down in front of him, bandages weaved between her fingers as she gestures for his hand. "And in the mornin' ye'll go to Gothi, understood? Or I'll send Hiccup after ye,"

Snotlout snorts as he nods in understanding, keenly watching the first layer of bandaging being folded over his knuckles, red blooming on white before disappearing beneath the next layer. The pressure against the more vicious cuts is morbidly pleasant to him.

They're both quiet as she wraps his hand, nothing but the soft sound of their breathing and the rumbling tones of Hookfang's snores to fill the silence. He looks are Valka now, really looks at her, and he really does see that they were sisters, her and his mum, he can see it in her the pale blue of her eyes, in the auburn tumble of her hair, in the gentle curve of her face.

He remembers his mum now, remembers her in a memory from when he was seven and it was the heart of winter, cold and grey outside and warm and amber inside. She was sat by the hearth, fletching her arrows and polishing her bow as he watched her with the wide-eyed curiosity of a child, chewing his lips as a question flickered in his head.

"Mum?" She hums in acknowledgment, fire glistening in her eyes and haloing the tresses of her hair (She'd always remove her braids when she came home for the night, usually it was twisted into a beautiful fauxhawk braid), "Did you make your bow?"

She'd paused then, the rag in her hand stilling along the agile wood, and looked up at him with a terrible sadness in her eyes. They no longer looked blue, they looked grey, drained of all warmth. They looked like the winter sky. He remembers feeling sad too.

"No," She replied, a smile on her lips, but it was sad too and Snotlout didn't understand how a smile could be sad, smiles were supposed to happy things (he knows better now), "Your aunt Valka made it, but not for more me, no, I used to be awful at archery,"

"I don't believe you," He'd gasped loudly, "You're the best archer on Berk! Dad said you could hold a bow before you could walk!" She'd laughed at that, deep and hearty.

"Your dad's a fool, Lout, haven't I told you that before?"

Oh, mum, he was more than a fool. He was a monster in hiding and when you died he stopped hiding from me, he hid from everyone else but he didn't hide from me. I saw the beast, I saw him alone and I looked into his eyes and saw evil and the evil looked into me. Mum, I should have listened to you. Mum, mum... please mum.

"Your aunt was the best before me, you know? Taught me that to hold a bow is like to hold the wind, you have to be gentle and focused, precise, true to your heart that you only need one shot," His mum ghosted a hand over the dark wood of the bow, caressing it as if it were a lover's arching neck, and Snotlout had scooted closer looking at the finer details carved long the upper and lower limbs of the bow. They looked like dragons, like the outlined silhouettes of Nightmares and Nadders and Zipplebacks soaring together in a blazing herd.

"What was Aunt Valka like? Was she, like, a great warrior like you too?" He'd asked hesitantly, his mum always got that awful dampness in her eyes whenever she spoke of her passed-on sister.

"Valka wasn't much of a fighter, no," His mum shook her head, gazing deep into the cackling hearth, "She had a tender heart on her, wore it on her sleeve night and day, and it made her... different, but she didn't care," A smile crawled across her face, mirthful and nostalgic, "She was stubborn and her kindness did not mean weakness, remember that, Lout, It's not weak to be kind,"

I'm sorry, mum. I forgot. He made me forget. I'm sorry, I remember now.

The memory comes to an end, his mother's fire-lit figure swimming from his mind as he focuses his eyes back onto Valka's lithe fingers as they pin the bandages down and he remembers that bow for the first time in years. A grief fills him when he remembers what fate that great weapon met, snapped in two by hateful hands and thrown to the hungry hearth as his father spat she was weak, like her sister, they're both dead because they were weak!

Snotlout wants to apologize to Valka but then he'll have to explain the soft memory of his mum's sad eyes and the angry memory of his dad's bared teeth. The spitting embers as wood is consumed, as a relic is ruined in the flames.

"Were you surprised... When you found out?" He says instead and it's a question that's been brewing in his head for years.

Valka leans back onto her calves and gives him a confused look, tilting her head as she glides a hand along Hookfang's snout.

"Found out about what?"

"About-" He swallows firmly, ridding himself of the swollen lump in his throat, "-about my mum, your sister... Where you surprised- no, not surprised but... Shocked? When you found out how she... How she died?"

The question leaves the air thick and suspenseful; it leaves his chest tight (or maybe that's the anxiety because he's never talked to Valka about how his mum died and this feels like forbidden territory). He doesn't want to upset her but there are questions, fears, in his head that need to be answered because they're keeping him up at night.

Valka opens her mouth then closes it again, voice lost and words unwilling. Instead, she worries her lower lip and turns her gaze to the floor, looking between the wood panelling as of it holds the answer she needs. He doesn't rush her, Snotlout understands it's an awful question to answer, his stomach always goes in knots whenever Hiccup or Eret try to push him into talking about things. They don't force him, of course, but they believe it'll help with that heaviness on his chest. Snotlout can't say he agrees with them but he plays along now and again.

"I... I wasn't... Expectin' to see her again," Valka starts slowly, "when I left Berk, I had no intentions of returnin' so I had already mourned her, in a way, but... But I had hoped she'd live on happily, without me causing trouble for her to get me out of,"

A breathy chuckle comes from her and her eyes are sad too, but they aren't cold like how his mum's used to get, no, they still have that dragon-fire warmth. He's glad about that. Valka rubs her hands along her thighs and she gives him a kind smile that is the mirror image of his mother's. It leaves his heart swollen and aching.

"When Stoick told me... I wasn't as... Shocked as I should have been, but it was still a blow to the heart, she was my big sister, the person I admired and went to when I was scared," Valka speaks softly, as if she's lost in a distant memory, "It's terrible bein' the one left behind,"

He nods his head in agreement because, yes, it is. There is no greater loss than being the one left alive, being the other half who escaped the flames. Scarred, ruined, but alive, not with them in those great halls, with that great music, drinking that great peace. Yes, it is lonely to be alive.

"Your mother was a brave woman and I see that same braveness in you too," Valka extends a hand and touches her fingers to his chest, over the place that homes his heart, and he feels a swell of pride in that.

"But I also see the same sadness she had," She brings her hand up and her touch ghosts under his eye.

He inhales sharply and turns from her touch, feeling ashamed because he hates it when people see the things he tries to hide most. It leaves him vulnerable and weak, naked and defenceless; they can touch him where it hurts most, they can see all that foulness, they can expose him for the rotten thing that he is.

But she's right. Sometimes he'll catch his reflection and he never really sees himself. He either sees the sorrow-blue of his mother's eyes or the jaded-wrath of his father's face. He never sees himself; he doesn't quite know who he is.

"I see it too," He admits quietly, eyes stuck on the floor where he had struck, the wood bent and splintered, cratered, and there is something inside him that says you shouldn't have been able to do that, you shouldn't be that strong, something is wrong with you, something is festering inside of you and it's A N G R Y.

"It doesn't make you weak, Snotlout, that sadness," She says and he looks up at her from beneath his brow, jaw clenched as he tries to resit the urge to rip off his bandages and scratch feverishly at his wounds, "A weak person wouldn't have been able to survive all those years with what he was doing to you,"

Ten years he's been torturing you, Hiccup's voice cuts in suddenly in his head, how are you still alive, Lout?

His reply to that had been dismissive and mumbled, but in his head, he was saying I don't know, I don't think I am alive. I think my body refuses to die, but inside I'm rotting, I'm supposed to be dead but I'm not, my body won't allow it.

Gathering his words, gathering his confidence, Snotlout straightens his back and sighs harshly.

"But it's been two years since he left, since he last took me into the woods, and I still feel... like an open wound, you know?" He starts quietly, the scarred skin beneath his tunic reacting to his words like they understand and he tries to not to fidget at the crawling feeling that spreads across his torso. It makes his chest tighter, the itching feeling that drives him to do something rash, violent, mad, so it will all stop.

"Shouldn't I be better by now? Shouldn't I be normal? Fuck, I think- No, I know I've gotten worse since he left and it doesn't make sense!" His words begin to get frantic as he speaks more, as he pours his heart out to someone who might be able to help, and his eyes sting with tears because he's so frustrated, so confused, so angry.

A delirious haze falls over him and he starts babbling and crying and yelling, begging it all to go away as he brings his hands to the side of his head, gripping at his hair and pulling painfully. Usually the pain would ease him, as morbid as that sounds, but he is so mad with this mental fever that it doesn't even register and he can't see, his eyes heavy with tears that fall and never stop falling.

"I don't want to feel like this anymore! I want it to stop!" Snotlout begs in a shallow breath, voice loud in his ears and echoing, a howl in the empty night, and his chest feels tight and heavy, it's full of that foulness and it's crushing his lungs. It's happening, it's all going wrong and he can't stop it, he can't even breathe, how can he stop it if he can't breathe?!

He barely feels the arms that encircle him, hardly hears the soothing voice, the chittering purr, the easing rumble. He's stuck in his head, in his loud and sick head, and the waves of impeding doom that wash over him are sending his heart mad, everything is going too fast yet not fast enough, he want's it all to be over. Snotlout tugs at his hair, pants like a rabid beast amongst the keens and indecipherable begging, shivers and shakes. He feels like he's dying.

"Yer alright, my dear boy, yer alright," The gentle voice reassures and he almost believes it.

Hands cradle his face and they are so soft, so kind, they can't be his hands, his hands were so hard, so cruel. They come for him in the night, and they come with a grinning evil that laughs like a bag full of bones, hallow and wrong. But these wind-touched hands, these love-soaked fingers, they won't laugh or claw or hurt, they only hold with a great tenderness that has felled beasts. They swipe away the tumbling tears and ease the furrows from his brow, a face presses against his scalp and he feels a kiss being placed there, a kind whisper ghosting through his hair.

Snotlout, unknowingly, rocks back and forth in Valka's arms like a child during a storm, tear-stained and afraid and confused, believing that this is the end of everything.

Slowly, surely, the haze begins to lift and Snotlout is free from the gross confines of his head. His heartbeat eases to a loud but easing beat that thrums in his ears and he can feel his lungs expand with each breath he takes, no long constricting beneath an invisible weight. The world around him comes back to view and he's met with wide, draconic eyes that stared fearfully into his, Hookfang lets out an uncharacteristic whimper as he bumps his head against Snotlout's heaving chest.

Snotlout breathing now, Snotlout okay, coos Pain as she scuttles along his neck and Hookfang snarls weakly at her, rumbling I know, I've seen before, I know Snotlout okay, I know. But it's still scary. That part goes unsaid.

"I'm okay, Fang, It's-" Snotlout tries to swallow the panting breaths, tries to slow his breathing, "It's over now,"

The feeling of hands carding gently through his hair helps the tightness in his throat to loosen and the stiffness in his bones to lax, it's a familiar gesture that Eret always finds himself doing when they're together. But these are hands are small and soft, while Eret's are big and rough. These hands are Valka's and they are just as welcomed as Eret's.

"How about we go for a flight?" Valka encourages as she stands on her feet, glancing up to the Storm-Cutter who watches from above before looking back down to him, "The sky is cool tonight and Me and Cloudjumper wouldn't mind the company,"

Snotlout thinks for a moment before he nods and easily lifts himself up, rolling his shoulders and neck to relive the tension pent up in his muscles.

"Alright," Is all he says and Valka beams down at him as she steps onto Cloudjumper's extended claw, her partner lifting her up through the skylight.

Hookfang too readies himself and briefly looks begrudgingly to the purple Terror perched on top of his left horn, her wings spread smugly and claws flexing excitedly. He doesn't bother saddling up, he's gone without one before so many times that at this point, he finds it almost easier to fly bareback. It feels more free. With a calm sigh, he clambers expertly onto Hookfang's lowered neck and looks up into the dark night, at the waxing moon, at the winking stars.

He closes his eyes and takes to the sky.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READY! YOU'RE A BEAUTIFUL BITCH/BASTARD AND I HOPE YOU GET LAID VERY SOON (if you're of age, of course)

[curious-menace]

The rogue gallery members general reaction to encountering the batman who laughs and his creepy ass Robin's.

ok id like to preface this by saying that red death batman straight up crucified riddler and decapitated scarecrow and the batman who laughs is MUCH worse than red death batman. 

i want to enjoy the dark knights metal but it is needlessly fuckin complicated with all this multiverse oververse omniverse shit. maybe i just don't have the galaxy brain necessary to get it so i apologize if this is all wrong 

(also i know its canon that the batman who laughs has no rogues gallery left, either because he killed them or joker killed them before he turned but hey ho hypotheticals it is)

also no one talk to me about kiss fan lookin riddler from this verse. im not ready. 

Penguin

i think his first reaction was to laugh. Batman’s finally gone and he took joker with him. I mean he literally calls him "bat gimp". I seriously doubt he anticipated the fallout of batman becoming some sort of hideous joker hybrid. he still chuckled when he started seeing the news. someone calling themselves “the batman who laughs” and “the darkest knight” then he sees the robins, he even recognises damien and it makes him a little sick. he books the next flight out of goodwin before things get too hot. 

shame goodwin was burned to the ground to stop anyone leaving gotham. 

with everyone inside. 

Twoface

i dont think its an exaggeration to say he was absolutly fuckin horrified. it's rare that harvey and two face agree on something, but this bastard has to go. the murder and mayhem he could tolerate, hell even killing the other rogues, some of them needed to be stopped. but having to look at this creature and know it was once bruce? harvey knows better than anyone its a fate worse than death to be trapped in your own mind with someone else running the show. they do their best to stop the darkest knight, bring all the hired guns they can to the fight but it wasnt enough. Harvey dies, but at least he went out trying to do the right thing.

Poison Ivy

She sensed him coming, her flowers screaming at her to save herself. part of me wants to hope she took one look at that abomination and noped the fuck out of there to slaughter swamp or something. but we know ivy, she stands her ground like a tree planted by a river. she looks people like batman and joker right in the eye and down the barrel of a gun and says “no, you move” Shes not a good person, but in this verse she might as well be the hero of the story, maybe the only meta human in gotham who stood a chance against him. The batman who laughs was scared of her and thats why she had to die. if she’d just minded her own business she might still be here but no. She dares the batman who laughs to come for her, she’s going to take him out. for what he did to her plants, to gotham, to HER home and HER friends. unfortunately for her ivy was one of the first on his kill list. She doesn't go down without a fight. ironically it was her human qualities, the human drive to help people that got her killed. she heard one of the robins crying and went to investigate. the batman who laughs doesn't care about those robins, he’s got a basement full of jokerized kids to throw at people. 1 to trick her and a few more to hold her down while he doused the lot of them with weedkiller and gasoline then poof.

i doubt the botanical gardens will ever be the same. 

Scarecrow

part of me wants to say he’s loving this. He’s enjoying all the suffering and sadness and fear as the batman who laughs murders everyone and everything from the dandelions upwards . but he cant, not just because he’s not the one causing it. this is fear without meaning or purpose, this is killing hope so thoroughly that there is nothing left for people to fear, not even death. he’s not so foolish as to think he wont also be on the batman who laughs chopping block. so he makes himself scarce, works on a toxin that might be able to stop him or even slow him down so someone has a shot at it. Jon knows hes going to die, its only a matter of time before that thing calling itself the darkest knight sends one of his minions to his doorstep. He’s been working on something to try and help the rabid robins. he has a small soft spot in his cold obsidian heart for kids and looking at these creatures makes him physically ill. 

he thinks hes made a breakthrough, thinks he’s finally got a formula that will effect batman and the joker and hopefully, whatever abomination they’ve become . he decides theres no time like the present to try it out when word of the other rouges deaths reach him. he’s the last one left and thats....well its scary. His surprise attack works, the robins go down without a fight, screaming and scratching at their faces, their throats and each other. regrettable but if he stops the darkest knight now, maybe jon can help them. Just when he thinks he’s got him, scarecrow goes down. so close, he falls at the finishing line, his toxin having as much effect as a gentle summers breeze. Much like the original scarecrow , the batman who laughs likes using guns. For jon however? he makes an exception. poor scarecrow gets eviscerated by his own scythe, pilfered from arkham asylum by the batman who laughs. gotta love the classics, right?

Riddler

Riddler was second on his kill list. only because the batman who laughs knew how much it would annoy riddler not to be at the top. He’s another rogue who stood a chance of stopping him if he really tried. sadly edward is nowhere near as altruistic as harvey, and could never be as strong as ivy. He likes to think his escape is for everyone's benefit. live to fight another day and all that. He learned from harvey and pamelas mistakes, took one look at this new batman and his creepy kids and said “fuck that noise” and tried to run. except he didn't really try. god if he’d only gotten out of the city, he would have been the only rogue that survived. the batman who laughs looks at him like a pathetic insect, unworthy of notice. he’d have killed riddler eventually, maybe put him in a riddle with no answer or a trap with no escape for extra irony points but he wasn't about to stop the little green cockroach from skittling away.  but of course, riddlers ego got in the way; he just HAD to try and best this new batman, no matter how much he scared the shit out of riddler he just HAD to try. and of course, pride comes before downfall. 

The batman who laughs helpfully provided riddler with some rope to help break his fall. 

Harley Quinn

some part of her was happy to have joker back. he was different, scarier but she was used to the abuse. what she wasn't used to were all the kids. she recognised damian wayne but didn't quite put the pieces together to realise it was bruce under there. she thought maybe he was just a random casualty . she tried hard to look after the kids but they act like animals rather than humans, there was nothing she could do.As time went on she found it harder and harder to sit at the right hand of this clown prince of horrors. harley has always been along for the ride, but how are you supposed make the whole world laugh if everyone in it is dead? i dont know what happens to harley in this world. either she leaves and much like joker, the batman who laughs fails to notice, shes killed by him because he was bored or she does when the world is destroyed by barbatos. either way, no happy endings here. 

Thanks for this incredibly depressing ask Ghostly T-T

im kidding, im kidding it was fun! it makes me wish i knew what the everloving FUCK was going on with this verse so i could enjoy it properly. the only comic store i know of has been closed since like march of last year and i don't know what im looking for on amazon to actually order them. i have 1 issue of nth metal but it was interesting enough that i want the collection.

if anyone knows what the collection is actually called hmu bc i wanna buy it. 

yes i could read it online but i like owning the hard copies. 

got something you wana talk about? send me an ask or a dm!💜💙🧡💛💚❤️

[hey-hamlet]

BNHA FIC PROMPTS

A collection of all of the fic ideas from that ask game, as of now. I’ll throw in new ones if i get any and when I remember. Feel free to use any of them, I’d love a link if you did!

with hands to the sky, I beg (what will save us?)

Izuku is a god who asks to be reborn as a human to try and help. He is warned he can’t return to being a god and will join the mortal realm, ever reincarnated. He agrees.

Izuku is a child with faint memories of a life he never lived, who knows too much about the world but not enough about the people around him. He’s not listed as having a quirk but he’s never gotten sick, never been hurt. He scares the other children and the adults don’t like his precocious nature. Inko loves her little miracle.

 My Soul is Like a Supernova

Things happen around Izuku. Always have. Everything from earthquakes and villain attacks to miraculous healing and lottery wins. He’s always attracted big events like this - as if even the universe can see how important he is and it warps itself around him.

He sees this as perfectly normal. 1A is begining to notice a stressful pattern.

This one regret of mine

Character study of Inko and how she deeply regrets so many things she’s done in her life, from her husband, to giving up on her carrier, to telling Izuku he couldn’t be a hero and then letting him keep going to UA.

But no matter what she’d never regret her son.

Of souls and lost causes

A good ol’ Izuku sees dead people AU, focused more on his younger years when he’d wander around the city helping as many spirits as he could, only to return home at the end of the day exhausted and dirty to an increasingly worried mother who believed the doctor when he said seeing ghosts as a quirk would be impossible.

my life.your choice

Underground heroics AU (i dont think ive ever posted that au huh): Izuku is the well-known son of japan’s immortal emperor, All for One. Born quirkless, he’s been emotionally abused but violently protected his whole life by his father, his mother killed before his eyes for trying to take him away. He’s never been able to make a choice for himself save for his bodyguard - his childhood friend, Bakugo Katsuki.

Katsuki made a pledge to protect him when they were in kindergarten and he’ll be damned if he breaks it now. And if it takes the two of them joining the resistance, meeting a vigilante by the name of All Might thought long dead and Izuku receiving a near-mythical quirk? Well, that just makes it more exciting, doesn’t it?

I forgot that you existed

Izuku gets hit with a quirk that not only makes people forget him, it prevents them from seeing him as well - all but erasing him from reality for everyone he knows. He can still interact with things but all it manages to do is just UA shut down under fear of villain infiltration. They find Izuku 18 hours later when the quirk wears off - a motion tracking gun trained on his forehead.

certain uncertainties

No one can predict the quirks trapped in One for All or when they’ll show up. Anthology fic of Izuku discovering each of them, some being rather helpful, and at least one piece of merch being sent into a low orbit.

Sometimes goodbye is a second chance

Set in the same universe I wrote console reset in; during the two heroes movie: they never defeat Nine and he slaughters the whole island and his class, leaving Izuku till last. He comes back at the start of their first day on the island and doggedly makes friends with every islander he can because while it hurt seeming them die, it hurt even more knowing he’d never even learnt most of their names.

They win this time the first time they meet him, even if it’s a marathon fight of 8 hours with him and Bakugo doggedly wearing him down. No one dies. Izuku thinks it’s worth dying as many times as he has to to keep the people he loves smiling.

The immortality of the heroic spirit

One of the quirks in One for All is determination: if you have something you desperately want to do, you can’t die - no matter how much blood you lose or home many pieces your body is crushed into - you’ll just heal back to where you were before you died. All Might and Aizawa find this out to horrifying effect during a brutal villain fight they are stuck watching on the news with the rest of a terrified UA.

In hindsight this makes a lot of sense to Izuku. Aizawa wants to scream. All Might has coughed up more blood than is probably healthy and all of 1A bruised hands from where they were clutching each other’s when it got too tense.

Shine on you invincible legacy

Izuku becomes a top 10 hero before hes even out of high school, hitting No.2 the second he graduates and taking No.1 from Hawks literally the next time the ranking is counted. 1A will not stop throwing him parties each time he moves up in the ranking, even if in 3rd year it was every other week. All Might comes to ever one of them.

Shake the Dirt from Your Shoes

Izuku will be a hero and no one will stop him - an AU a fair bit like the beginning of canon except Izuku fights back, remains unending optimistic and maybe engages in a light bit of technically legal vigilantism, accidentally befriending a vast array of heroes and a student or two.

To his horror, they recognise him out of costume as soon as he speaks to them, resulting in a very eventful first day at UA.

do you feel with a heart of steel

Original Sin AU, young Izuku finding feeling emotions difficult and not knowing why. He finds a dying animal on the way home and sits with it, patting it until it passes away. He doesn’t think he feels anything, but his cheeks feel wet.

all you want is milk and honey

Villains have been trying to use Izuku his entire life, much to his annoyance and confusion (I wonder who in his family might make him known to villains? hm). He’s gotten very good at being intimidating, even as a child.

When he gets kidnapped with Bakugo on a primary school field trip he decides to hell with it and breaks out all the stops. Turns out villains don’t tend to want a 10-year-old who can describe in great detail how they would hang you with your own intestines.

Bakugo decides that fuck Izuku being quirkless, he’s kind of amazing.

Even the stars

Izuku dies young and no one but the stars cry for him. They bring him back, but his body is cold and he has a nova burning where his heart should be. A four-year-old who has known death and walked among the stars is a terrifying thing. His skin has a shimmer to it, his eyes look like planets with no visible pupil, and he knows far too much.

The stars still speak to him, and they see everything.

bitter dreams and optimistic nightmares

Bakugo and Izuku grow up good friends, until Izuku is taken by villains age 9.

Bakugo’s determined to be a hero to save Izuku, even if it hurts to be at UA without him.

Izuku hates hurting people but he’s determined to make the most of his horrible situation by leaking information to heroes whenever he can. He’s given to All for One to serve as a lab hand to the doctor when All for One finds out this rag tag outpost of his had been hiding a valuable resource.

They meet at the USJ.

Mind Games for Two Shinsou and Izuku are both gen ed students in the same class, but with Shinsou stubbornly refusing to make friends and Izuku being the vice president they are almost strangers. UA has a no quirkless students policy and Shinsou has accidentally discovered that he student in his class with an analysis quirk, doesn’t, actually, have one. Izuku is aware Shinsou knows. They both want to get into the hero course but are under the impression there is only one spot.

It’s tense.

The Melody Stuck in My Soul

Izuku has an empathy/emotional control quirk that hears other’s emotions like music. He uses this both to read people, to defend himself, and, because hes Izuku, to ramp up his adrenaline/motivation/anger to kick ass. He and Bakugo are friends because baby Bakugo was lowkey impressed Izuku managed to weaponize his tears.

Advantage of the musical element: it gives him something concrete to latch on to and change, and it was very easy to work out which emotions were which. Also he has his own theme song, even if he’s the only one who can hear it.

Disadvantage: He cant turn it off. The stronger the emotion the ‘louder’ the music (it doesn’t cover up natural sounds because its not technically there, you get me?)

Error 404, childhood not found

A Hero’s Son AU, snapshot’s of Izuku’s childhood with No.1 Hero All for One as his abusive father.

Age 4 when his quirk never comes in and All for One abandons all pretences of loving him. Age 6 when he realises his son is intelligent and has a use as a lab assistant for the doctor. Age 8 when Bakugo first realises something is wrong. Age 9 when his father is almost killed by the No.1 villain All Might. Age 9 when he’s made to work in the labs with the doctor.

Age 14 when he meets All Might. Age 15 when he makes it into UA.

Darkness Growing (The Light Ever Smaller)

Villains take over Japan after the current arc, leaving all heroes and students that don’t switch sides on the run. 1A is instantly separated with a few of them  being killed, most of the living students with Aizawa and Izuku and Bakugo by themselves, both too stubborn to leave the other.

Aizawa is desperately trying to get to Izuku and Bakugo in an attempt to keep them safe, while the two of them are avoiding Aizawa to keep the rest of their class safe(er), all while avoiding the villains, turncoat heroes and police out to get them. Public support is spotty at best with anyone found ‘harboring a criminal’ given the same punishment as the hero.

Lost soul of last hope

The first wielder has been Izuku’s imaginary friend since he can remember. He’s not very imaginary.

Featuring Izuku with the world’s strangest older brother, Inko coming to the realisation her son can see a ghost, but only one ghost and no one will believe them, Izuku’s quirk being listed as Inko’s because the first wielder can help him fake it, and Izuku wondering why first looks so much like that picture of his father on his mother’s bedside table.

The kids the system failed

100% The 1A run aways au with 1A, Aizawa and Mic being runaways kids of various ages that band together to stay alive and maybe do a little vigilante work on the side.

Izuku has All for One and uses it like you’d expect a traumatised kid to - cautiously at first but when he gets the hang of it there are suddenly no more criminals with quirks in their area, and it looks suspiciously like Uraraka can fly.

Just a second to soon? For the Fic thing?

Aizawa struggles and gets knocked out just before Shigaraki lunges at Tsuyu. She and Izuku are left horribly injured by his quirk with massive facial scarring, and in Tsuyu’s case, the loss of an eye.

Daze

An illusion/fear quirk makes his teachers look like villains and convinces him he’s in danger. They try and stop him without hurting him but it’s difficult considering Izuku is convinced he’s protecting his friends, considering he can only see them broken and bloodied with villains he thought were locked away loaming over them.

Even as Aizawa cuts out his quirk Izuku still tries to shield his friends, snarling ferally.

Morning Glories and Forget-me-nots

A memory quirk of unknown duration hits Izuku, leaving him remembering none of his life. 1A starts to fall apart without one of their pillar’s.

hopeless but not broken

The Long Con au where Izuku asks All Might if he could be a hero without a quirk - he’s really asking if he can stop pretending to be a villain, if he’s worth anything without the quirks he’s been given, if he’s worth something as himself rather than the limited use he can provide. He doesn’t know how to say all of that, so he just asks if he could be a hero.

All Might says no. And Izuku basically decides right then that the only way he’ll ever be able to help people is by being a mole for the heroes like he’s been since he was 10 - that he isn’t worth anything because he’s quirkless and to be considered just as valuable as the people around him are he needs to give his life and more.

He shows up to the bar crying because of All Might and Shigaraki moves his murder plot forward a few months.

Sunflowers and Summer Gardens

All Might starts a garden on campus and 1A like to help. He uses it as a nice place to chill and as physical therapy. He likes to give the different classes bunches of flowers when they sprout.

For Dos and For Donts

Izuku runs into some of his old bullies when out with some of his friends. Uraraka, Iida, Todoroki, Shinsou and Asui intimidate the fuck out of them, and Izuku realises hes not scared of them any more. Then they get frozen yoghurt!

your mistakes, my unbecoming

Aizawa assigns a project on quirk related issues, Izuku ends up with quirkless discrimination, Aizawa assumes his discomfort is just him being upset he doesn’t get to talk about quirks. He doesn’t realise his mistake until he finds Izuku dissociating on the roof.

one and one into the vast

Original Sin AU, All for One and Izuku seeing the vestiges together. One for All sees his brother for the first time and Izuku learns a lot about the voice in his head.

All for One has a mini-crisis about his not son learning he’s a horrific villain, especially considering he has the power to cast his soul out at any time, killing him at will. Izuku doesn’t kill him. He admits its probably not right of him to let AfO remain considering the things he’s done, but All for One is a part of him now and it would be like killing a friend.

All for One quietly decides to hold off on the villainy until all of 1A is dead, for Izuku’s sake.

between the stars of our souls

Izuku and All Might are old gods who keep getting reborn into human forms with their memories regained when they turn 4. Normally finding each other takes a while, and their last reincarnation they never found each other, so this time he resolves to make himself as easy to find as possible, all while saving as many people as he can.

Izuku, aged 4, memories fresh in his head, makes it his mission to get into contact with the man he knows is his father/mentor’s reincarnation. All Might’s agency was not expecting a 4 year old to repeatedly try breaking in to their office, and they especially weren’t expecting him to be so good at it.

you really should have thought this through

Different (and ill-advised) attempts at special moves or team up combo moves. Featuring:

Izuku managing to break Kirishima’s nose.

Uraraka sending Bakugo so high he broke the sound barrier coming back down to earth.

Kaminari and Shouto managing to electrify ice.

Izuku, Todoroki and Bakugo levelling a whole suburb (at least it was condemned???)

I'll Break Anything You Give Me

Different times Izuku desperately tried to repair his relationship with Izuku over the years and the one time Bakugo fully grasps how much he fucked up and reaches out his hand to try to fix it for the first time. Probably includes a lot of screaming, Bakugo learning how to say sorry, a field trip and them having a conversation on Aldera’s roof.

Sinking

One for All kind of possesses Izuku during a quiet night at the dorms. One for All, made of 8 people, 7 of which are dead and had their last experiences in life be rather painful and violent, breaks down, Izuku alone not enough to drown them out. They lash out at anyone who tries to touch them, their quirks tearing Izuku’s body apart.

All Might’s vestige reaches out a hand to Izuku to keep his mind from being torn apart as 1A set about both trying to protect Izuku and get Aizawa who was off campus on patrol.

Feat. Bakugo and All Might being the only people with any idea about what’s going on and getting more and more stressed each second that passes. Iida, Uraraka and Todoroki being good heroes and even better friends. Blood King deciding he’s never watching 1A for Aizawa again, and Aizawa deciding he’s never leaving 1A alone ever again.

A Long Way From Home

Shirakumo wakes up in Kurogiri’s body in Tartarus with only shadowed memories of his time as a villain. He’s scared and alone and he just wants to see his friends again, even if he’s scared they hate him because at least that’s something he knows.

Too Far Gone

The other side AU, it comes out Izuku is a villain with (knockoff) All for One and he has a showdown with Mirio. He and Izuku trained together under All Might and Mirio tries to plead with him but Izuku has to basically tell him to go to hell to not ruin his placet as crown prince of the underworld.

Of course, he’s not only doing this to save people, he’s also doing it with All Might’s blessing - taking over from All Might himself serving as a villain after he killed All for One to prevent a power vacuum.

Doesn’t mean that his friends in 1A know that.

Snowy hills and sunlit peaks

Probably an AU about All Might being a mountain spirit with a little shrine that Izuku is the only one who visits - Izuku gets in trouble and All Might manifests himself, saves him, and tells everyone to keep their hands off his human son.

Wilting

Izuku gets sick and he tries to hide it because he’s scared its something serious but he just gets worse and worse. His friends are the ones who eventually step in and comfort him.

I’d probably write two endings with one being a bad end and the other a good end.

My wish came true without me realising 

Izuku wakes up one morning, comes downstairs and just starts crying. Everyone panics and he reassures them they are happy tears and that he's just glad to be here. They all call him sappy and give him a hug. Later in the day he and Bakugo chat and Izuku reveals he never even expected to live this long, let alone become a hero. Bakugo grumbles that he’s too stubborn to die, and not to get too cocky. Izuku promises he wont.

[everyothermouse]

Made some designs for my old superhero au for funsies, enjoy

I am going to take this as an excuse to talk abt this au, some backstories and design details under the cut :)

Tw: suicide attempt (peters backstory) and abuse (hash’s backstory)

Also, i gotta warn you that the backstory descriptions get longer as we go on, as the longer i write for, the worse i get at being concise. My apologies!

Peter

Power(s): control over the shadow realm

Power triggers: fear, depression, sadness, anger, focus

Relationships: hash (daughter/apprentice), genny (ally), ms. Garner (friend/ex nemesis), gabby (ally), prince (assistant/nemesis) princess (nemesis?)

Backstory: Tried to die in a vat of Poisonous Liquidtm but due to the nature of the experiments Done by damian at Unnamed Lab Owned By Damiantm, instead of dying his misery manifested through shadow powers. He was a shadow for a bit before he was able to start being a person again, and he was so upset about being alive that he decided he needed to consume the entire city in shadow so everyone else would have to be miserable like he was. He would be repeatedly thwarted by a superhero in the city named flower girl, who would eventually (over the course of like 3 years) forcibly found family him. He now has a job and uses his powers for good, and has recently taken up a superhero apprentice :)

Design notes: the heart clasps on peters cape and arms were originally by Ms. Garner before she retired as a superhero. They are tools used to help focus magic, making it easier to stay centered and to direct magical forces. The heart in the middle changes color based on the magic surrounding it/running through it, for peter it is black, but for Ms. Garner it was red/pink. Peters crown is made of the same material, but is not quite as strong. Peter mainly focuses his magic outwards using his palms and the soles of his feet, thus why they are uncovered. Villain peter looks a lot less alive than current peter partially because of being magically exhausted, but mostly just because he is in very bad physical health, having dipped himself in a vat of poison and proceeding to get 0 medical help, and then also not eating or bathing and living on shadow magic and depression. The boots previously used for villain-ing are now his work boots :)

Genny

Power(s): super strength

Power triggers: N/A

Relationships: nut (son), mellisa (friend), gabby (ally), Ms. Garner (friend?), hash (ally), peter (ally), damian (enemy)

Backstory: genny was a single mother and teacher living a normal life when she was caught in a catastrophic event as the city’s super villain the week was wreaking havoc in the middle of town. When a car came flying at her child, she had no choice but to rush forward and try to get him out of the way. Usually this would have ended in disaster, but thanks to a mix mothers hysterical strength and the strong magic energy radiating out of one of the destroyed buildings (it was U.L.O.B.D., because its always fucking damian isnt it) she was suddenly imbued with the strength to block the car and escape. Soon she would realize that this effect wouldn’t go away, and thus she decided to try and use this ability to help protect the city from all the dangers which threaten its safety.

Design notes: the knife on her leg is attached with a very strong magnet, it is difficult for others to remove but easy for her to thanks to her strength. Her body armor is all much stronger than the other three’s, as having armour that is lightweight isn’t a priority for her in the same way it is for the others, due to her strength. Genny doesnt actually have that much more muscle mass than a normal reasonably fit person, as her super strength is not connected to this. She wears contact lenses in her daily life, but after the event in which she got her super powers her eyes are entirely white (nut’s eyes are also lightened, but not to the same extent as genny’s, you can actually see them from more than 2 inches away.)

Hash

Power(s): control over earth/rocks

Power triggers: fear, excitement, focus

Relationships: Peter (parent/mentor), genny (ally), gabby (friend), prince (annoyance),

Backstory: Hash has had the ability to move the earth since she was born, but her parents always shunned her for it, saying it was destructive and evil, and so was she. She was forced to repress her powers and was often neglected (and occasionally hurt) by her parents, as well as frequently being forced to socially isolate herself from peers and teachers due to her being “too dangerous.” She tried to run away from home, feeling as though she was a danger to her parents, but when she was caught she freaked and accidentally used her powers towards her parents out of fear. Her parents called the police, making her more afraid and causing her to become more destructive. After a couple days of chaos and no one being able to defeat her, she would eventually be talked down by [whatever tf peters superhero name is], a superhero in the city who had previously been a villain but was changed through kindness and love and what not. It took a while after that to convince her that she wasn’t some horrible monster, and to get her a way from her previous household for good, but now shes a lot happier and has moved in with peter. She’s also started practicing using her powers, although its pretty hard for her given she spent all the time that her powers were developing not using them, and thus doesn’t know how to control them at their new level. She likes to tag along and try to help out on superhero missions, but honestly her main focus right now is trying to make friends and become accustomed to normal daily living, which is difficult when you’re constantly afraid of everything and have no idea how to talk to people.

Design notes: her small cape/cloak is an old one of peter’s. She hand painted on the rock pattern and the green inside, and its not perfect but she likes it. Just like normal hash, she cut the sleeves off of all her shirts, even the ones that weren’t damaged, back when she was at her old household. After moving in with peter though, shes started wearing more long sleeved shirts :) . Hash may lift rocks from the ground and stick them to her body as impromptu armour when shes distressed, although she usually doesn’t purposefully do this as its not actually very good armour, its just annoying.

Gabby

Power(s): fire manipulation, lizard stuff

Power triggers: lizard: N/A Fire: focus, anger

Relationships: peter (ally), hash (friend/ex-rival), Dario (nemesis/enemy/rival), Akira (friend/ex-rival), genny (ally), Ms. Garner (mom/mentor), Mrs. Harvey (ally/girlscout troup leader), the other Mrs. Harvey (Girl Scout troup leader/ally)

Backstory: ever since she could walk gabby was convinced she had the ability to control fire, But none of the other kids at her orphanage ever believed her, and neither did anyone at her school. One day though these powers were put to the test, when the orphanage took fire and she rushed in to help the local super hero evacuate the other kids while the fire fighters were still on their way. It was at that moment she decided that she could be a superhero too, and that the poor superhero present at the time, flower girl, would be her mentor. She followed her everywhere being the annoying curious child she was, but all flower girl wanted was her to stay out of danger and go home to her parents (which she would eventually realize gabby didn’t have.) But when gabby proved her worth and saved flower girls life, flower girl finally caved and decided to start training her, as long as she promised to try to be more cautious, and to stop skipping school to follow on dangerous missions. From then on they were an amazing super duo! Together they fought villains and used the power of kindness and pretty flowers to brighten peoples day :) and after a while ms. Garner would even end up adopting gabby, yay!

Eventually gabby’s lizard features started growing in, which was pretty scary. But her mom showed her that they weren’t all that bad, and gabby realized she could use them to help out on super hero missions! Peter, who was flower girls nemesis, would move in with her and her momma temporarily while he was getting better, as he was very sick while he was a super villain. She decided to adopt him as her new second parent, which he never agreed to, but I mean hes never denied it so its basically true. Several villains and other hero’s have also been added (and removed) from gabby’s growing list of parents. After her mom got hurt really badly in the hash incident, she decided to retire from being a superhero, deciding that she needed to put more focus on her safety so she could take care of gabby. Gabby has continued fighting crime, now taking up a more independent role as a superhero because she’s a preteen and thinks shes mature, but she usually works alongside other superhero’s in teams or as partners, as her mom requires she have adequate supervision (bcus shes LAME.) She still gets somewhat serious treatment from other superhero’s given that she technically does have more years of experience in the field than like half the cities heroes and she has had a major role in taking down multiple big villains, but she’s still a child and is generally not to be trusted on her own, as she is minority stupid and majorly reckless.

I’m sorry that was so long,,,,,, it could’ve easily been 1 paragraph but i have failed 😔

Design notes: gabby isnt wearing shoes under the legwarmers in hercivilian design, she likes the good grip her feet give her. Sidekick gabby’s stick can make fire just like her current one can, but it does not have the other functionalities. Her stick is not just for magic stuff, she also wacks people with it, and knocks them off their feet and stuff, its quite sturdy. The thick line on her face is just face paint for funsies and to make her a little bit less recognizable (only barely tho.)

[starlightsearches]

Office Romance: Ch 20 Inspection

General Hux and Kylo Ren have found themselves competing for the affection of a lieutenant aboard the Finalizer.

Series Warnings: Language, some violence, near-death experiences.

Masterlist

AN: Haha, I finally did it! Thank you all so much for your support while I figured out where this story goes, and where it ends. I received so many kind messages and so much love. Warnings for this chapter: angst, canon-typical violence (force choking), discussions of abuse, kind of?

You wake up with bleary eyes and a pounding headache. For a moment, you're able to forget why you feel so terrible—not just physically, but deep in your bones—and you sit and wait until it hits you.

You had cried late into the night—cried until you couldn’t anymore—but as soon as the memories resurface, so do the tears, stinging your tired eyes. It's only just started, but you're sure that it will take a miracle for you to get through the day.

You force yourself out of bed and to the sink, drinking straight from the faucet, and then you down a rehydration canister as well, for good measure. (Technically, they're for medical use only but they're a godsend for hangovers.) The taste is questionable, and you'll have to piss like a bantha later, but it'll be worth it if it gets you feeling like a human again.

You rinse off in the sani-steam and put on your uniform, already feeling better. The positivity is immediately lost when you see Ren's helmet sitting on your desk. The memory is blurry even now that you're fully awake—stumbling through the halls on the way back to your room, the weight of his helmet sitting heavy in your hands, and the words running through your head on repeat just in case you ran in to him: you left this, you left this, you left this.

What would you say to him now? You obviously have to talk about it, but . . .  how? There's a slight unease settling in your stomach as you think about what had happened between you and Ren. Had you liked it, the kiss? It's hard to separate the event from everything that had happened after, which you definitely had not liked.

After a moment of debating, you decide to take the helmet with you, tucking it under your arm and hoping that the bulk of your greatcoat would hide it from view.

You walk in the direction of the bridge, doing your best to appear normal as you try to sense Ren's location through the force. It's not something you've tried before, and not something that he had tried to teach you yet. It's more difficult than you anticipated; everytime you open yourself up to the force you become overwhelmed by the feeling of all the lives on the ship, and you're unable to distinguish between any of them, let alone pick out Ren's unique signature from the group.

You pull yourself from your search just before you collide with someone—a harried-looking maintenance tech busy staring at her data pad. She doesn't notice you, and you catch her by the shoulder just before impact, stopping her momentum. She lets out a small oof, the data pad threatening to tumble from her hands before she gets a hold of it.

"I'm so sorry, Lieutenant General," she says, saluting once she recognises you, "I wasn't looking where I was going."

"It's alright, I wasn't either." You give her a small smile, hoping to put her at ease, to show that you're not angry, but it doesn't take long for you to realize that you're not what's making her nervous.

"Busy day today?" you ask, scoping out the surface of her thoughts searching for the origin of her woes. Please don't let it be Ren, please don't let it be Ren . . . 

"Uh, yeah, actually," she replies with a little trepidation, "we've got like, seven different emergency repairs and they're all- "

" Code 4120?" you finish for her, and she looks back, surprised. You don't know all the repair codes, but that one you've memorized. Lightsaber damage.

"Uh, yeah, actually," she replies with a nervous laugh, "I don't know what got into the commander but I hope it doesn't happen again." She blushes—embarrassed to talk this way about a commanding officer in front of another commanding officer—and walks off quickly, leaving you to dwell on the information alone.

You continue on your way to the bridge, but decide to stop at the officer's dining area first, hoping to grab a cup of caff before officially starting your shift. As soon as you enter, though, you'd like to walk back out, because the first thing you see is Ren's shiny new black eye, uncovered and set in a fiery glare towards Hux's normal seat, which is currently unoccupied. There are others in the dining area, though, full of sick curiosity as they shovel their rations into their mouths, glancing at Ren every few seconds, desperate to know what happened. You have to be careful. These next few moments could be explosive if you weren't.

"Your helmet, sir. You left it in the training room after our sparring session," you say to Ren, dropping it on the table in front of him. Everyone perks up when you address him, hoping to be clued in on the drama, but Ren doesn't even look at you, which suits your plans just fine, for now.

You lean in just a little closer, trying to sell the lie as you whisper, loud enough for the people closest to hear, "and I'm very sorry about your eye, sir."

"Wait, you gave him that?" Someone takes the bait, and you hold in your sigh of relief as you turn to address them. It's Kaimill Wate, the one you picked to be your replacement for Phasma after your promotion.

"Yes, Lieutenant. It was an accident, my hand slipped." Ren continues to ignore you, but the rest of the officers buy into your lie anyway. Thank the gods for that.

The only one who still seems suspicious is Mitaka, and his eyes follow you around the room, his mouth formed into a slight frown. You grab your caff and flash him a look, hoping he'll get the message, and he does, standing from his seat immediately and tossing out the rest of his breakfast before following you out the door.

"What is going on with you?" he asks, as soon you're alone, his whispers tight and angry as he checks to make sure that no one around you is listening.

"Oh, fuck," the words fall out completely unbidden, and the panic slips back in to its home in your chest. Would you have to feel this way forever? Constantly on edge, waiting for this to explode into the light and ruin you? It's no way to live; you don't think you can bear it.

"Hey," Mitaka speaks again, pulling you to a stop, "tell me what's going on." His voice and touch are gentle and it breaks your heart all over again that you've spent so much time lying to someone who cares for you so deeply. 

"I will tell you what's going on, Doe, I promise. Just not right now." He seems distrustful, and you don't blame him after everything that's happened, but he nods in agreement, and you feel a little more at ease.

"Are you ready for the inspection?" Mitaka asks to change the subject, and your eyes widen with surprise.

"What inspection?" Normally the Directorate gave ships a week's notice before any official visits. Had you somehow managed to forget in all the chaos?

"The general sent out an alert early this morning. It was a surprise for him, too, I think," Mitaka responds, just as you enter the bridge. Hux is there at the view ports, looking no worse for wear, despite his injury.There’s a maintenance worker with him, probably updating him on the progress for the repairs, but it doesn't seem like he's truly listening, and after a moment, they walk off.

"Who is performing the inspection?" you whisper to Mitaka, hoping to avoid the general's attention for as long as possible. You’re still not sure what you want from him. And you don’t know how he’ll react when he sees you again, or if he’ll react at all.

"Hello, Lieutenant General," the voice behind you answers your question before Mitaka can, and when you recognise it, you can feel the cup of caff begin to slip from your fingers. No, not him. Not here.

"General Pryde, welcome to the Finalizer," Hux has arrived, and Mitaka takes his place on the bridge, leaving you alone with the two men as they greet each other with a slight nod and hate in their eyes. You have to hope that you're still asleep, because this is a nightmare. You try to wake up; nothing changes.

"Shall we begin?" Pryde asks, and both of them turn to look at you. Even with some kind of miracle, you're not sure you'll survive this.

You try your best to remain focused, but there's little hope for that when you think you sense Ren around every corner, when you're simultaneously trying to catch the general's eye and stay invisible to him, when you have to watch every word that exits your lips to make sure that Pryde will not sense even the slightest trace of the deep and abiding hatred lurking just below the surface of your skin.

No, You're not focused, not in the slightest, but you know the general would rather chew on mouthfuls of glass than look like a fool in front of a superior officer and he makes up for your lack, leading you and Pryde from place to place, careful to avoid the parts of the ship that Ren had left in disrepair. The whole thing goes fairly well, as far as you can tell, and you breathe a sigh of relief once you return to the bridge, finally finished with your looping tour.

"Thank you for your time, General," Pryde says dismissively, and you tune back into the conversation, nervous about the change you can sense in his mood. He turns his attention to you, and although he has the same stony demeanor as always, you know what he's feeling, and you know what he's about to say, "I'd like to speak to your lieutenant for a moment. Could you spare her?"

General Hux looks at you for the first time since the last time he looked at you, since you watched him walk away. You're afraid to look back, but you do anyway, ready to see the loathing you deserve reflected back at you, but his gaze is absent of any emotion at all, and somehow that’s worse.

He's waiting for permission. It takes you a moment to realize that this extended eye contact is not some kind of a punishment that the general is hoping to inflict, but an offer of protection from Pryde. He's willing to say no for you.

You give him the slightest nod you can manage, and only then does he speak, "of course, Allegiant General." He walks off without a word, and you watch him go without a chance to thank him.

Pryde clears his throat, and you follow him from the bridge, down to the hangar where his ship waits for him. Something about the moment makes you feel like a little girl again, like he's about to yell at you for running through the house or breaking a lamp, and the same sickness comes right back, the same fear, the same sight that you saw so often in the plane between waking and sleeping: Pryde, blaster in hand, pointing the barrel of the weapon directly between your eyes.

It's a ridiculous notion, a silly thought. You're not a child anymore. You're a soldier. A force-wielder. You can defend yourself. But could you defend yourself?

As soon as Pryde finds an empty corridor, he acts, pulling you into some abandoned meeting room. You breathe deeply through your nose and think calm thoughts. He just wants to talk to you in private.

"Well?" He's already angry, which means you'll have to be careful, have to hit every mark and deliver each line with perfect inflection to keep his anger at bay. Even without an audience he still demands the doting daughter routine. Lucky for you though, it's a role you have had a lifetime to perfect.

"It's good to see you, father," you say, pressing a soft kiss to his papery check, trying very hard to keep thoughts of your last kiss out of your mind. This was a critical performance; you could not afford any distractions.

He relaxes only slightly, but you refuse to let your guard down until you know what he wants. It seems that he is ready to join in on your act, putting on the guise of a concerned father. He must want something.

"You seem tired," he begins—less convincing in his role than you manage to be, which is understandable. He's under less pressure. "Is everything alright?"

"I didn't get much sleep," you offer, " I've been kept busy since my promotion." He looks skeptical, but you're not sure why, especially since it's the truth, or part of it, at least.

"Is General Hux giving you too much of his work? I would recommend you for a transfer to the Supremacy. I'm sure that General-"

'I don't want to leave the Finalizer, father," you interrupt, and the look in his eyes makes the regret appear instantaneously. "It's just one night without sleep; it won't kill me. I appreciate the concern."

"Your mother sends her regards." He seems mollified enough, and then he changes the subject, which doesn't surprise you in the slightest. He doesn't care how you are. He's just searching for weakness.

"Tell her I miss her," you respond on instinct, and then after a beat, "and you, as well, father." Gods, You want this conversation to be over. You're tired of walking on glass and hoping it won't splinter beneath your feet.

"We've been talking recently," he says, falsely casual, "she thinks you should come home. We both do." It's off-script, and the surprise throws you out of your act and directly into a spiraling panic.

"What?" You genuinely think you might faint. Even after the news you received last night, this somehow manages to come as a bigger shock. Maybe you should have seen it coming. You thought you were safe from him here, but maybe that was all an act too.

"We don't feel comfortable having you work in such a dangerous environment, and after the assassination attempt, can you blame us? Your mother was a wreck for days after the event, hardly sleeping, unable to eat. I thought the stress would kill her."

He's trying to guilt you into giving in, and you might have been more receptive of it, if it had been anyone else. You wish the stress would kill her. Wish it would kill them both.

"Please, come home. We'll take care of you again. We'll keep you safe." He rests a hand on your shoulder, the loving father, the one you always deserved, and you hate yourself for it, but you almost buy into it. Because you want to believe, damn you, want to believe that someone else would care for you. You want to unload, give away the reins and let someone else make the tough decisions again. Because you're so damn tired. Because you're not strong enough to do it yourself.

Hot, fat tears roll down your cheeks and you bow your head in defeat. The woman, the fortune teller from Irrade, she was right. It's not always an or the other. You can choose not to decide. You can give up.

Pryde lifts your gaze to his, wipes the tears from your cheeks, pulls you in for an embrace. You don't find home in his arms, but maybe someday you could.

"You'll be safe now," he whispers and you will yourself to believe it, "I'll take care of everything." It's not until he runs a hand through your hair, an approximation of a soothing gesture, that you notice it. For some reason, that's the contact that tunes you into his thoughts—thoughts that he must have had the whole time but kept hidden, and you were too distracted to see them.

"You know," you say, pulling yourself from his grasp, "about my training. About Ren." How could you have been so blind? He didn't want to save you, he wanted to save himself. Every part of you hums with rage, and you let the anger flow through you, too tired to stop it.

“You lied to me!” You’ve never yelled at him before, but the words burst out of you, “you don’t want me back, you want me away from him!”

"Now, wait, see here-" he blanches, trying to cover his tracks, but you don't need to see any more to know that it's a kindness for you to only block his windpipe. You're being merciful. You should snap his neck. Force choking is another skill Ren never taught you, but this one is easy and so very satisfying as you bring Pryde to his knees.

"No, general, you see here," you say, getting in his face, looming over him, "I'm not going anywhere. And you are going to stay. the. fuck. away from me. And then maybe I'll let you live." You storm out of the room, not bothering to glance back, not caring to check if you had killed him or not.

You march through the corridors with no destination in mind, desperate to escape the rage that wells up inside, and you finally understand Ren. It would feel good to destroy something right now, but walking would have to suffice.

You end up on the bridge without realizing it. Still, you've never felt more in control. The anger has left your body and you find strength has replaced it. You're not going to run from this. You're going to make a choice.

AN: Okay, that’s it for this chapter! I’m not going to give an ETA for the next one, because I think I’m going to be doing something a little different. I also will probably put requests on hold for the moment until I finish this story up; I’m assuming it will only be three or four more chapters. Let me know what you think!

Tags: @acunningstargazer​, @itsa-pseudonym, @ddaeing, @dark-night-sky-99, @i-jus-wanna-writehappy​, @fresa-luna, @leiadelreyy, @averillian, @sunbanna (let me know if you’d like to be added or removed!)

[connorandersons-blog]

"Please don't leave me alone"- Convin, Connor had a nightmare and Gavin comforts him, other way around is okay

Warning for crime scene (so dead bodies)

------------

There were so many bodies. Some he wouldn't even be able to identify. So many of his people slaughtered for fun. Killed because a human wanted to feel powerful. If he could he would have gotten sick. Hank almost did too.

There were at least thirty-one bodies. Eighteen were children. The others were adults and five were originally made for security or military. So whoever did this was strong enough to overcome them. 

Those were the ones he could identify. There were, from the looks of it, at least forty-six other bodies. 

The large barn was covered in blood that only he could see. They had called in backup and when they came they found Connor staring into the barn, LED red. 

At least seventy-seven of his people slaughtered. He jumps practically out of his skin when he feels a hand land on his shoulder. 

He turns and sees Hank. He doesn't think, just pulls Hank into a hug. Hank holds him closely, not saying a word. 

Hank was even grumpier due to coming to this crime scene at three am. Even he didn't like going to a crime scene so early.

He does have to pull away to work. He walks around, taking in all the evidence before going towards the like of unidentifiable bodies. 

He crouched down, and with shaky hands scoops up some of the dried thirium. There are thirty-four different models. He quickly stands, squeezing his eyes closed. 

"Conner, if this is too much…" Hank starts but Connor quickly shakes his head. 

He can do this. He has to do this for them. They deserve to know what happened. "I can do it. I'm fine."

He tried to keep his emotions in check as he looked at the bodies. He didn't find any fingerprints so either this was done by another android or a human with gloves. 

There had been androids that killed but nothing to this magnitude. 

The murders were brutal and it appeared the cause of death for almost all were beating. It was slow, drawn-out, and painful. Deliberate. 

There were different murder weapons, but one stood out. In a few of the child models, it appears they were beaten with just fists, drawing it out even further. 

Who could do this? It made no sense. These children didn't do anything. Nothing except survive. 

"Shit, fuck this is disgusting," Gavin grumbles, only now arriving. 

"Don't say anything. I swear I will shoot you if you make any comments." Hank threatened. 

Gavin's eyes went wide and put his hands up. "Hey, I admitted I was wrong about them being alive. Still shitty they can take our jobs but I'm not denying their life." 

He had been quite surprised when Gavin had apologized for basically abusing him while not a deviant. Connor easily forgave him, after all, he was just a machine then and no one truly knew any different. 

"This shit is terrible. Even if they were just machines." Gavin sighed. What the humans seem to keep forgetting was that they were machines. 

Machines with feelings and emotions but machines nonetheless. He wasn't ashamed to be a machine and it definitely had its pros and cons. 

"Fine. Actually… Reed walk with me for a minute." Hank said, glancing at Connor. Gavin grumbled but followed along, walking out of the bard. 

Hank leads them far enough away that Connor can't pick up on their conversation, so he focuses on the evidence. 

There was so much yet still so little. If he didn't have to keep to protocol with wearing gloves he would have been pulling at his hair in frustration. 

Though… the damages on the child models could help. Child models were made to be hardy so just punching one would be harder and more painful than punching an average adult model. 

He quickly walks over to an YK500 #80-856294710-registered name Caroline-, kneeling down in front of the mutilated body. There were punched exactly forty-seven times. 

The damage done to a human had would be very high. No doubt breaking their hand, especially if punched with incorrect technique. Maybe he could even find the force profile. That would help narrow it down even further.

It was small, but it could help. If this was indeed a human their hand would definitely be hurt. If they got lucky then whoever did it went to the hospital. 

He turned around and saw Hank and Gavin walk back in. Gavin's eyes fixed on him and he nodded to Hank before walking over. 

"Hey, Tincan, they found a body that may be related. Hank's gonna stay here and look this over, so you're stuck with me." Gavin sighs. He was lying. Why was he lying? Did it have to do with whatever Hank talked to him about? 

"Alright, I'm assuming you know the location?" He pulls his gloves off, disposing of them. Gavin nodded and started walking out of the barn, sidestepping any evidence. 

He follows along, pausing when they get to Gavin's car. He had never been in it, never had a reason to. If he ever needed to drive Hank let him borrow his car. 

He got in, taking in the smell. He could smell traces of food, cigarette smoke, leather, and Gavin's cologne. 

Gavin started up the car, fiddling with the radio for a second. 

"So, where are we going?" He asked, relaxing into the seat as Gavin drove. He glanced over before turning back to the road. He wasn't driving but he wanted to still keep track of the world around them.

Gavin opened his mouth to talk then quickly closed it. He did this a few more times and Connor didn't interrupt, letting him think. "You'll see when we get there." He finally snapped. 

Connor shrugged, mostly to himself. He knew for a fact Gavin wouldn't hurt him so he wasn't too worried. Maybe Hank just wanted Gavin to drive him around a bit. 

Now that he was sitting he felt exhausted. Androids still didn't need to sleep but now they could, and they could dream too. He'd had mostly good dreams, though it wasn't odd for many deviants to have nightmares. 

He found that he didn't get exhausted from just physical activity alone. He generally had to go under a lot of emotional strain to feel this level of exhaustion. 

Before he knows it his eyes are slipping shut. He dozes for a bit until Gavin is shaking his shoulder. 

"Get the fuck up, Tincan. I'm not gonna carry you." Gavin grumbles. His eyes snap open and he looks around quickly. 

They're at an apartment in the rougher part of the city. It is possible that there really is a body here. If it was he would have at least gotten a notification, but none came. So the probability of a body went down by 90%. 

"I'm assuming there is nobody here?" He asks, focusing his attention on Gavin. 

Gavin sighs and turns the car off, shaking his head. "No. Ander-Hank asked me to take you home. Well, he just said away, but you fell asleep so I… I brought you to mine."

He, he was at Gavin's place? Gavin took him to his home? "Why not take me to Hank's?" 

"I didn't really… he asked me to stay with you, so whatever. Let's just go in." Gavin grumbled, getting out of the car. Connor quickly followed along. 

Gavin's apartment is near the top, which definitely makes his stomach churn. He'd never been fond of heights, but as long as he didn't look down he'd be fine. 

Gavin's apartment wasn't huge, but it seemed well-loved. The first thing he noticed was two large cat trees and he felt his excitement spike. 

He knew Gavin had two cats, but he never thought to ask to meet them. One ran up to them, meowing loudly.

"That's Fae, she's a lesbian waffle," Gavin said, tossing his keys and wallet onto the table. 

Connor drops down, holding out his hand for the cat to smell. It seemed the cat had no worries as she instantly rubbed against him, meowing again. "She's adorable." 

The cat purrs loudly and then quickly runs over when Gavin opens a can of cat food. Another cat ran over, and Connor didn't bother to try to pet it. 

He stood back up, looking around the apartment. It had large windows which were thankfully covered by curtains. The walls were painted in a soft gray-blue and the floors were warm hardwood. 

It was an open floor plan, so he could easily see the kitchen from the living room. The walls were decorated with generic paintings and photographs. Other than the cat toys he wouldn't know Gavin lived here at all. 

"Feel free to use the TV. I've got some movies on there." Gavin said, moving around the kitchen. 

Connor nodded and sat down on the couch, turning the tv on. He quickly switches it away from the news. His stress was already high as is. 

He isn't really paying attention to the tv, just 'spacing out' as Hank would say. He jumps when something soft lands on him. He quickly realizes it's a blanket and pulls it off of his head. 

"Detective?" He asks, eyes widening when Gavin sits down next to him. 

"It's Gavin, dumbass. You seem… tired. So you can sleep here if you want." Gavin mumbles, eyes glued to the TV. 

Connor looks down and fiddles with the blanket. It's a soft blue color though it has a more grayish tone to it. He looks at the TV, then to Gavin.

He had found that human contact helped his stress levels. There was a 67% that Gavin would push him off, and possibly yell at him. 

He scoots over closer to Gavin, pulling the blanket up to his shoulders. Before he can talk himself out of it he leans his head against Gavin's shoulder. 

Gavin stiffens and Connor can tell his heartbeat speeds up. Anger or… no, he couldn't think about that possibility. 

Gavin slowly relaxes and then does something he didn't was possible. He reaches around and pulls Connor closer. 

Connor sighs happily, letting himself relax. Before he knows it his eyes are slipping closed once again. 

He quickly looked around at all the bodies as snow started to fall. No. This wasn't right. How could this be right? 

"Connor, look what you've done," Amanda says. He quickly turned around, seeing her standing surrounded by bodies. 

No! No Amanda was gone. She had to be gone. He got rid of her for good. Right? "No! No, I didn't do this. A human did this." 

Amanda laughed. Had Amanda ever laughed before? It sounded odd and unnatural. Was this similar to how he laughed? 

"Oh but this is still your fault. If you stopped the revolution none of these androids would be hurt. No one would have died. You failed, Connor. You failed your mission."

No! No this wasn't his fault! The person who did this would have still killed, but then it would have been humans in that barn. 

"No! No!" 

"Connor!" His eyes snap open at the sound of Gavin's voice. He takes in deep breaths to try to cool his systems down. 

The panic slows, but he jerks when he feels a hand brush against his face. 

"Shhh, it's me. You're… you're crying." Gavin mumbles. Connor brings his own hand up to his cheek, feeling the dampness. 

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He mumbled, leaning away from Gavin. 

He should be better than this. He should be in control of his emotions. Yet here he was in Gavin's house crying. 

"Hey," Gavin sighs, touching his arm. "It's ok. We all get nightmares. It would be fucking weird if you didn't." 

He doesn't mean to, but he leans into the touch. It seemed so real. Amanda seemed so real. Could it be like another garden? Was that actually real? 

He checked his systems and didn't find anything wrong, but that doesn't mean she could be hiding somewhere. 

"I'm going to get you some water." Gavin sighs, moving to stand. Connor starts, reaching out to grab Gavin's wrist. 

"Please… please don't leave me alone." He whimpers. Gavin's eyes go wide but he sits back down. He hadn't meant to appear so weak, so helpless. 

"I'm not going to leave," Gavin says. He opens his hand and glances at Connor's still holding his wrist. He lets him go and takes his hand. He makes sure not to hold on too tightly. 

"Do you want to watch something? I'm sure I have something happy." Gavin says. Connor nods and leans back, letting himself lean against Gavin. 

Gavin uses his free hand to grab the remote, going through his movies. He selects one and grabs the blanket that had fallen, putting it over Connor and him.

They stay together, watching movies until they both fall asleep again. 

[ur-not-reddie]

I Think I’m Okay

chapter one

pairing: Reddie

word count: 1723

warnings: hints of abuse

prompt: best friends to lovers

Modern day AU, aged up to 18

-

"That is so ridiculous," Richie says as he leans back in his chair, sipping his milkshake. "There's no way in hell Spiderman would beat Thor in a fight." 

"You never know," Eddie shrugs his shoulders. 

"The Hulk can't even pick up Thor's hammer, so there's no way in hell Spiderman would ever win." he says and leans in closer to Eddie. 

"Why do you have to underestimate Spiderman?" Eddie defends himself. 

"Because he's literally purposeless, he wasn't even in the Avengers until later."

"He was in the originals," Eddie snaps. Richie rolls his eyes as he laughs. 

"Purposeless," Richie whispers.

"You're purposeless!" Richie looks at Eddie, giving him an 'oh-please' look. "You're not," Eddie says softly and takes their shared milkshake from Richie's hands. 

"I love your comebacks," Richie sighs adoringly. 

"Why?" Eddie furrows his brows at the other. 

"Because they're awful," Richie giggles. "But it's okay, shitty comebacks are my thing anyway." he winks. A small smile forms on Eddie's lips as he looks at Richie. Richie smiles in return and grabs the drink back. "Also I'm paying today."

"No you're not," Eddie says quickly, almost cutting Richie off. "You paid yesterday, it's my turn." 

"Well I'm paying again," Richie says as he asks the nearest waitress for the bill. 

"I pay every Monday, Wednesday and we split Friday. It's Wednesday in case you forgot." Eddie says, frustration behind his tone. 

"I didn't forget, I'm just paying again." Richie says calmly as he gets the money out of his pocket. Eddie copies his actions by also grabbing his money, but Richie already hands his to the waitress before Eddie can even get his out. "Ready?" Richie asks, Eddie turning on his heels and heading out the door, not even waiting for the other boy. "Oh really? You're seriously not mad over, like, a few dollars?" Richie asks running after him. "Come on, get on." he says signaling towards the piggyback rides he always gives Eddie. Richie swears that Eddie sits on his back more than he actually walks. 

"No," Eddie mutters as he continues on. 

"No?" Richie asks in genuine shock. "Since when does Eddie Kaspbrak reject a piggyback ride?" he asks and walks after Eddie once again. "Fine, I guess I'll hold your hand then." Richie grabs the other boy's hand only for Eddie to pull it away. "Okay, then I guess I'll hold your finger." he grabs Eddie's pinky finger, Eddie pulling away again. "Damn, I guess I'll hold your fucking elbow." Richie huffs and grabs Eddie’s elbow, this time Eddie doesn't pull away. "Oh, so I can hold your elbow but not your fucking hand?" Eddie tries his best not to smile but fails miserably. "Yeah, you can't be mad at me." Richie smirks as his hand slyly slides down Eddie's forearm and lands itself right in Eddie's hand. 

"Shut up," Eddie says as he looks down, trying to hide the obvious blush that's forming on his cheeks. 

"Piggyback ride now?" 

Eddie quickly pulls his hand away from Richie's and hops onto his back. Richie throws his arms out to the side and starts running around making airplane noises. Eddie grips onto him tighter as he's a giggling mess. Richie runs around, spins in circles and ducks under tree branches causing Eddie to laugh even harder. 

The thing about these two is that they're not dating. But every other human is fooled; the Losers even think they're dating and just hiding it. They do coupley things like getting milkshakes everyday after school, building forts on the weekends and having movie nights. Sometimes they'll even sneak out of their houses because they can't handle being away from each other for so long, even though they'll see each other the next day at school. They are so infatuated with and by one another that they can't seem to get enough. They're only satisfied when they're together. 

"Ladies and gentlemen," Richie says in a low, deep voice. "We have arrived at our destination; Richie Tozier's shitty car." Richie drops Eddie at the passenger side door, opening it for him. Richie closes it and hops in the drivers side. 

"Wanna come over?" Eddie asks sweetly. 

"I can't," Richie sulks as he starts the car. "My moms home." his words are filled with sorrow as fret builds its way up in Eddie's veins. 

"Richie-"

"I'll be okay," Richie cuts Eddie off. He knows that if he lets Eddie talk about the subject of Richie’s mother, he'll never stop talking. He will go on and on and beg Richie to stay at his house. And as much as Richie wants to, he can't. "She wants me home."

"You can't though, I just, I-"

"Eds, I'll be okay. I promise. I'll even pinky promise." Richie says as he holds out his pinky finger. Eddie gives Richie a look of dismay. 

"You can't do that because you know it won't be okay, and we don't break pinky promises." Richie frowns and the two sit there for a second before Richie heads off to Eddie's house. The car ride is silent, but it's not awkward. Eddie knows exactly what's going to happen when Richie gets home and Richie knows too, even though he doesn't want to admit it. 

"I'll see you tomorrow, okay?" Richie says softly as he pulls into Eddie's driveway. 

"Please," Eddie begs through teary eyes. 

"You know I would if I could," Richie looks down at the steering wheel. 

"Call me or text me?" Eddie sniffs and wipes away his tears that are now streaming down his tanned cheeks. Richie nods and gives a weak smile. They say their goodbyes before Eddie heads on inside and Richie drives away. 

"How was AV club?" Eddie's mother, Sonia, asks. Eddie has built up this lie to where he tells his mother that he stays after school everyday for AV club when in reality he just hangs out with Richie. He knows his mother would never allow this, not on a daily basis at least, so he just tells her he has AV club. 

"It was good. I've got a lot of homework to do." Eddie lies as he runs up to his room. He shuts his door and plops down on his bed, waiting for Richie to text or call but he never does. 

*

The next day at school, Eddie doesn't hesitate and storms his way through everyone to find Richie. He's upset that Richie never contacted him last night, but he's also worried that bad things happened to him as well. Eddie finds Richie at his locker, Eddie leaning up against it, waiting for Richie to notice him. 

"Hey, Eds." Richie says in the most chipper tone he can. 

"Don't," Eddie says coldly. 

"Don't what?" 

"Why didn't you text or call last night?" 

"I was busy with homework," Richie lies and looks down at the floor. 

"You and I both know that's bullshit," Richie snaps his head back up at the sudden attitude. 

"I was just busy, okay?" Richie shuts his locker and rests the side of his head against it. The two boys stare at each other for a while before Eddie impulsively grabs Richie's wrist, telling him to come with him and drags him to the boys bathroom. He pulls Richie inside the big stall and locks themselves in. "I don't know what you're up to, but this is really gay." Richie snorts. 

"I'm not fucking around Richie!" Eddie's tone is more strident, his words hit Richie like a million knives. "Show me." 

"Woah, Eds." Richie throws his hands up in defense. "I'm not showing you my dick." Richie tries to joke again, but Eddie clearly isn't having it. Eddie grabs the bottom of Richie's sweatshirt and lifts it up, revealing big blue and purple bruises. He only sees a glimpse of them before Richie aggressively pulls his sweatshirt back down. Richie stares at Eddie, speechless.

"And you tried to pinky promise last night," Eddie's voice cracks as he tries to hold back his tears that are threatening to spill out of his eyes. 

"It's fine," Richie tries to reassure the other but fails. 

"No it's not," Eddie says in a calmer, softer tone. 

"I just don't want you to worry about me," Richie says just as gently, looking down at his shoes.

"Of course I'm going to worry about you!" Eddie says as if it's obvious. 

"And that's what I'm afraid of! You don't need to worry about me because I'll be okay. I don't want to put that stress on you, I don't want to put that fear on you. It's not okay for you." Richie lets a few tears slide down his face. It's rare that Richie cries in front of anyone, but Eddie's not just anyone. Richie hardly cries, but when he does, it's usually around Eddie. 

"But you think it's okay for you?" 

"This is not your problem to fix, Eds." 

"Richie!" Eddie says as he walks forward and cups the boy's face gently. "I want to help you. Just please, let me help." Richie leans his forehead against Eddie's as Richie lets out silent sobs. Eddie gently rubs his thumbs across Richie's cheeks, staring at his lips. He wants to kiss Richie so badly, but he knows he shouldn't. It would be wrong, wouldn't it? 

"I'm just scared for you," Richie pulls away and looks Eddie in his warm, chocolate eyes. 

"Why for me?" Eddie asks, puzzled.

"Because I'm afraid that one day you will see me the way that I see myself. And if that day ever comes, I know you will walk away. I don't want you to walk away." Richie whispers the last part as he chokes back more tears.

"Oh, Richie." Eddie sighs and pulls the other in for a tight hug. "I'm never going to walk away, even if you wanted me to." Richie pulls away and gives Eddie a broken smile. Eddie leans his head against Richie's again for a few seconds then pulls away wiping his tears. "You okay?" Richie nods and the two exit the stall only for them to receive weird looks from a few guys.

"It's not what you think you sick minded fucks!" Richie spits and speeds out of the boys bathroom. 

'There's my Richie' Eddie thinks as he smiles to himself.

[jay-and-dean]

I don’t need you  Chapter 4 : Raging Fire

Dean x reader

Summary : She’s a warrior, she’s a loner. Nothing can stop her, nothing ever had. She doesn’t need Dean, does she ?

This is a request by @magssteenkamp​ that I decided to turn to a serie, see the original request on the serie Masterlist.

Serie Warnings : Swearing (duh). Mention of death. Smut, probably all kind from rough to fluffy, I’ll precise in the chapters if there are specific warnings. Fluff. Angst of course.

Chapter warnings :  Swearing (duh). Alcohol abuse. Mention of death. SMUT (light, distant? I don’t want to say too much, still 18+). Angst and flames.

Words : 3.2 k

Note : I’ll try to stick to the 3k rule, like for Rescue You

If everything goes as planned, you’ll get one chapter every wednesday (Thanks to @magssteenkamp, I call it WednesJay, lol. Sorry okay, I shut up).

***Want to read more ? => MASTERLIST***

*** I don’t need you MASTERLIST***

__________________________

4.     RAGING FIRE

Reader’s Pov

           The ceiling is spinning.

           I get up but stumble and almost find myself on the floor, leaning to the wall, I grunt. Another sip on whiskey, then another. I’m breathing heavily, trying to think though that thick haze I created myself.

           I must have freaked him out, Dean.

Shit, why did I kissed his neck ? Or was it the attempt murder that scared him ? I grunt again, trying to walk straight to my psycho wall but I stumble once more, and catch myself on the table.

“Shit !”

           On the wall, with all my researches : the articles that shows Holloway’s head on the Lincoln statue in the circle of the anti-possession symbol, to sign from the hunters ; with crazy  titles like “Gang or Satanist secret society  ? Are the missing teen related to that ritual ?” And the articles about the fire that burned out an entire building to the ground without spreading at all to the others. That magic fire is a real blessing.

           I’m just so tired and confused. Nothing feels right. I knew vengeance wouldn’t be enough to move on, but I didn’t know I would feel that void inside of me. The worse is, I don’t really know what left that deep hole inside my chest.

“Stupid” I whisper, taking another sip of whiskey.

           I throw myself at the wall, ripping everything, tearing up each piece of paper one by one. Making everything fall from my desk in a rage I don’t quite understand.

           My phone rings, it’s Joe again… If I don’t answer, he will show up, and I don’t want that. I pick up the phone and sit on the floor, among the pieces of my life.

“What. Joe.”

“Y/n ? I was worried” he says with his honeyed voice.

“You always are.”

“Are you drunk again ?”

“Yes” I chuckle, feeling the tingling in my face skin.

“Y/n… I know this is a hard time for you but… Maybe you shouldn’t stay alone for a while, you could come at my place if you want…”

“Was they scared of me ?” I cut him and he sighs deeply.

“You have to stop being obsessed with Dean Winchester, Y/n. He left, you were doing good before him, what is the problem ?”

Before him ? When was before him ?

“You’re such a party pooper, Joe…” a hiccup punctuate my sentence. “Maybe I just wanted to have fun with him.”

“Yeah I think we all noticed that” he grunts. “Listen, please stop drinking and I’ll be here after my shift… You should come back to work, Y/n, Gerald won’t buy the sick things longer, and you know you need that job.”

“I do” I admit.

I need that stupid job. I need it because it pays food, and heating, it pays for safety and dignity. And when you stopped school at 12, you don’t have that much options.

“I’ll come to work tomorrow, but don’t come tonight, I won’t open the door. I’m getting drunk until I pass out, and tomorrow I’ll be back to my shitty life…”

I take another sip of whiskey.

“Don’t say that… You have me and you’ll find other cases. You’re the best woman I know… Please be careful” he tries but all I can hear is the love in his words.

A love I don’t want, a love I don’t deserve or need at all.

           I hang up and notice the Winchesters notebook on my right. I sigh. I’m not obsessed with Dean Winchester. I just like his story.

           I just feel like I knew him, like Sam and him had been my only friends for years.

           And now I like his face too. And his smell.

           I smile and close my eyes for a second, picturing my lips on the skin of his neck. I hum, and put a hand on my lower stomach, where it tickles. I take a deep breath and let my hand go a little south, my head a little back. Shy with my own body, almost surprised by its strong reactions.

“Dean…” I murmur in the dizziness of my drunk state.

I open my jeans with one hand, and slip my finger where I rarely go for anything else than cleaning.

Oh fuck…

           The bottle of whiskey I was holding on my other hand falls and spills everywhere.

“Shit !” I kneel to try and save my precious notebooks, opening the Winchesters one to check no alcohol damaged it.

           785-555-0128

I’m one call away.

           D.W

My eyes widen.

           Why the hell would he give me his number if he doesn’t want to see me ? Or maybe was it before I almost killed him…

           My sober mind tries to tell me to let go, but my drunk mind… I dial the number, my jeans still open, the notebook in my hand.

It rings three times…

“Dean Winchester” his sleepy voice answers and I smile like an idiot.

“Hey…” I just say, my stupid smile in my voice, and I hear him move.

“Y/n ?”

“I found your note” I state, shrugging although he can’t see me.

“I’m glad you did. How are you ?”

“I’m drunk” I answer, his voice somehow relaxing me.

“O-okay… So Joe didn’t give you the note Sam wrote I guess.”

“A note ?” I think hard, the alcohol making it even harder now, like Dean accentuated its effect.

“That’s what I thought” he grunts. “We left him a note for you, with our numbers. I-I was worried about you. So, no fangs ?”

“No fangs” I nod. “You can relax.”

He chuckles and I smile at the muffled sound of his laugh.

“I am relaxed, sweetheart.”

“Do you call all the girls like that ?”

A silence.

“Does it matter ?” he says lower, and I’m suddenly very aware of my open jeans.

“I was going to touch myself” I state, my drunk mind winning completely, but take another sip anyway, like I needed courage to be at ease with my words.

“Oh really ?” his voice goes even lower. “Why did you stop for me ?”

“I found your number…” a hiccup. “I thought…” I let a finger linger on my own cleavage, lost in the haze of whiskey and in Dean Winchester.

“Did you want me to help you with something Y/n ?” he grunts and my heart races.

“You’re not even here… Why did you left ?” I whine.

“I was… I didn’t want to but… You didn’t need me, us. Do you need me to drive to you ?”

“No… By the time you arrive, I won’t be drunk anymore…”

“That’s even better, Sweetheart.”

“Yeah but not drunk me is no fun… Her p…” hiccup. “Pants is always in place.”

He chuckles again.

“And now yours is not ?” he asks like he was weighing his words.

I shake my head, forgetting he can’t see me, and hear him take a deep breath.

“You should have fun, you deserve that” he states calmly.

I drink from the bottle again, and put my hand back in my panties, grazing my folds.

“I am.”

Something is yelling inside of me to stop that madness, but it’s so far I can’t hear it behind the desire and the alcohol.

“Oh really you are ?” he asks, as I slip a finger between my folds. “I should let you then… Call you tomorrow to speak to not drunk Y/n.”

“But it’s now that I need you…” I exhale, a soft moan escaping my lips when my already too sensitive clit swells under my fingers.

A short silence, then he sighs.

“What are you doing ?” he says with an authoritarian tone.

“Rubbing down there…” I fully moan now, my desire like a fire raging inside of me. “Imagining you can touch me through the phone.”

“Fuck… If I was there, I would definitely put my fingers inside you… You know… Replace yours with mine… Are you wet ?” he almost pants, and that makes me clench around nothing.

“Yes… very.”

“Then use your middle and ring fingers Sweetheart, go deep. And think of me.”

I do. Spreading my legs wide, I cry out, my stomach shaking, frustrated that my hands are not thick enough, not strong enough, not his.

“Dean…”

“I’m here, I’m right here. How does it feel, Y/n ?”

“G-good…” the alcohol is pounding in my head, and I flatten my palm to crush my clit as my fingers go the deepest they can, again and again… And again. “Fuck ! Dean…”

His breathing is fast and heavy, he groans at the sound of his name. I have no idea if he’s touching himself, if he’s hard… I think he is, he sounds like he was craving, another louder groan escapes his lips after one of my moans.

           That all it takes. I come in a strangled cry, my legs carrying my hips a little off the floor, dropping the phone to grab my own thigh. I don’t say a word but whine loud, and my butt finally hits the floor again.

           I’m panting and so drunk. Trying to catch the phone that bounced a little further, I fall on my side, grabbing it as I can.

“Hey Y/n ? You’re still there ?”

“Yeah…” I answer sleepily, my body bathing in the liquor I spilled earlier, the room spinning too much to keep my eyes open.

“You… Sweetheart, you really are something…” I hear him chuckles, holding my phone close to me like it was him, the same way I used to do with the Supernatural books. “Y/n ?...”

His voice is distant and I nod…

 *******

             Hot.

           Burning hot and hard to breathe.

           My aching hangover brain tries to register what is wrong, and I open my eyes.

           Fire. Fire everywhere.

           In a movement of panic, I try to get up, leaning to the desk, but burn my hand and cry out. The flames are already eating the ceiling and all my notes are flying in the smoke.

           My phone still in my hand, I look around : my life is going to aches… Then I think of the other people in the building.

           Running outside I strongly hit every doors, yelling at people to go out, breaking the fire alarms with my fist, cutting it, to make them ring. I hear barks and kick my neighbor’s wooden door as I can, grabbing his old dog to run in the stairs.  

           Outside, everybody is stunned or crying, waiting for the firefighters. I give the dog to the janitor and run.

           My head hurts, my stomach hurts, and adrenaline is making my heart beat almost painfully.

           They were targeting me, they tried to burn me to aches as I killed their king. That means they know who I am… And if they have my identity, they have everything.

Run.

           I run, taking my phone I try to call Joe, jostling people.

           No answer.

           My heart is pounding in my head, the alcohol burning my eyes. Images of last night come in flashes and a punch of anxiety hits my stomach. I have no time to think of that.

           Turning left, I ignore people staring at me and keep going as fast as I can, the winter sun dazzling me, the cold wind hitting my cleavage and neck with his thousand needles.

           Then I see it. Firefighters, cops… The bar burned, and judging by the fact that it’s already extinguished, I’d say it burned hours ago.

           Stunned, I walk to the scene, hoping to see Joe’s face in the middle of the crowd. A cop sees me, and stop me firmly.

“This is a crime scene, you can’t be here, Ma’am.”

“Crime ? I work here…” I try to see above his shoulder. “Have you seen a tall man named Joe ?”

A somber look appears on his face and my heart misses a beat.

“Did Joe work here last night ?”

“Y-yes.”

He sighs.

“Someone put the bar on fire and blocked all the issues, Ma’am. I’m sorry. I’ll let you know when we identify the bodies. Could you give your name and address, we will need to contact you…”

Address.

Joe.

They… They killed Joe. They burned him alive and the last thing I said to him was that I didn’t want to see him. The air seem thick suddenly. So putrid and thick.

           I turn on myself and look at the phone in my hand. I have nothing left, I can’t even buy a sandwich or change clothes right now. It’s back… It’s all back…

           And Joe died because of me.

           Feeling the panic rise, I give the cop a fake name and address. They will make the link between the two fires, and find like thirty illegal weapons in the ashes of my apartment. And I called sick yesterday…

I have to disappear.

           So I run the other way. But where will I go ? I have no gun, I have no money, I can’t even buy a bus ticket. I can’t breathe, and the cold suddenly feels so painful. My coat burnt. My notes burnt with the few money I had saved…

My only friend, he burnt too.

I look down at my unbuttoned jeans and feel nauseous. I don’t need them, I don’t need him. I can be on my own, I’m a warrior. I’m a warrior…

 *******

             I spent the day walking, I have no other choice, if I stop, the cold grabs me by the collarbones, and the vampires will spot me. The night is here again, and I can feel the hunger growing inside of me, threatening.

           I have no plan and I have no shelter. My phone rings once in my hand so I look at the screen, a delusional hope makes my guts flutter for a second, what if it was Joe after all ? But the screen only says I only have 10% battery left… I don’t have a charger.

I can’t feel my hands.

Letting my back slide down the wall behind the Chinese restaurant, I burst in tears. Am I ready to die ? Or should I fight a little more ?

           My shaking hands light the screen again and I take a deep breath.

 Dean’s Pov

             I can barely focus on the movie playing on the crappy screen of the little motel TV. Sam is talking about the case and I pretend to listen : probably the ghost of the wife, bla bla bla.

           I wish I could call her, but she uses a withheld number, of course she does. She probably won’t call again, and I can’t stop thinking of her…

I could  do researches on Joe, I know his first name and where he works, maybe I could get to him and convince that son of a bitch to give me her number, or…

“Dude, are you even listening ?” Sam sighs.

“Yes, dead wife, angry ghost.”

He rolls his eyes but the phone in my palm buzzes, making me forget Sam in an instant.

           I get up and walk to the bathroom, looking at it : withheld number.

“Dude !” Sam calls, annoyed.

I pick up, not even doubting a second.

“Y/n ?”

“Dean…” her voice is sad, broken even, and exhausted.

“Are you okay Sweetheart ?” I frown, half-sitting on the sink.

“Not really… Joe’s dead, my… my apartment burnt and the bar… Everything is gone. Now they’re after me but I have no weapon and… No fucking phone charger so…”

My heart breaks and I get up, going back to the bedroom to take my coat and keys.

“Where are you ? Y/n, I’m coming for you, I will be there in seven to eight hours Sweetheart, you hold on okay ? Turn off your phone and only turn it on to tell me if your location has to change, okay ? I’m coming Y/n.”

She gives me a street name and I hang up.

“What’s happening ?” Sam gets up, starting to follow me outside.

“Y/n needs me, they killed Joe and burnt her house, you take the ghost, I go get her.”

 *******

             Seven hours is really long when you have no idea if the person you’re driving too is still alive. Sammy called, after the bones were burnt, he made some researches on what happened in the bar, the cops already made the connection with her apartment, and the firefighters reported suspicious items.

           During those horribly long hours, I tried to think of the first time I saw her, how fierce and deadly she was, and I convinced myself that she is hard to get and impossible to kill. But in the night, on the highway, my mind kept drifting to a thousand other things, and among them : the fear of how she makes me feel.

           This city is way too big, way to crowed and I hate every street of it.

           She never called me so I really hope she is where she’s supposed to be. Anything could have happened in one night. Mumbling “Come on, come on, come on”, I look for the streets I’m supposed to cross.

           The morning is slowly raising between the buildings, a white sky and lazy sunlight morning, held back by the huge shadows of the city line. A few snowflakes flutter around the black of the Impala.

           I finally spot the Chinese restaurant she talked about, I park as I can, running out of the car right away. And when I enter the alley, I breathe out.

She’s here.

           Her hands around her shoulders, sitting in the corner beside the restaurant’s dumpsters. She’s wearing only her jeans, shoes and that corset, her phone next to her.

“Y/n” I say, getting close and she lifts her eyes on me, her face is pale, and her lips are blue. “I’m here… I’m here” I assure her, my hand reaching her knee, cautiously squatting before her.

Her eyes search my face and I swallow hard, like it could get my heart back down.

“I’m sorry” she states with a low voice. “I had no idea how to…”

“It’s okay” I cut her, taking her arm. “You’re freezing, come here. You don’t have to hide anymore, it’s day, and I’m here.”

           She gets up as she can, leaning to my shoulder at first, and I take her to the Impala waiting for us. The second she’s in it, next to me on the front seat, I turn up the heater and put a cautious hand on hers. I just can’t help touching her.

“I’m sorry for Joe, for your apartment… We will make them pay, Y/n.”

“I want them to burn” she says through her teeth.

I turn the keys in the ignition and nod.

“We find something warm to drink and eat, I take you home, and we find a way to clean your city” I state. “Y/n, you will win, okay ?”

________________________

***FEEDBACK IS GOLD***

Forever Tags : @parinarain​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @animegirlgeeky​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @mogaruke​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @masterof-agony​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @rainflowermoon @tftumblin​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @deans-baby-momma​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @roonyxx​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @thefaithfulwriter​​​ @vicariouslythruspn​​​ @emeow1496​​​ @daryldixonandfrogs​​​ @holylulusworld​​​  @cocklesbelli​​​ @sandlee44​​​ @mogaruke​​ @screenchingartisancashbailiff @donnaintx​​ @hawaiianohana31 @akshi8278​​ @magssteenkamp​​ @sister-winchesters99​​ @neii3n​​  @alanegaming​​ @im-a-shrub​​ @sadwaywardkid​​ @hopelesslydevotedtoyou1912 @slyqueenj​​ @i-love-superhero​​ @waywardsisterandpie @sunsetsandbooks​​ @fangirlxwritesx67​​​ @mrspeacem1nusone​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @stylesismyhubs​​​​​​​ @deanwanddamons​​​​​​​ @jawritter​​​​​ @peridottea91​​​ @chelsea072498

I don’t need you tags : @charmed-asylum @prettydeaneyes @hellsenthero​

[imissjoongsmullet]

Fireworks

Pairing: Mingi x reader

Genre: was supposed to be 100% fluff but ended up 50% angst 50% fluff because I have no chill

Summary: Mingi has been your best friend since forever but you’ve noticed the two of you growing apart ever since his debut. At a party you don’t feel you belong at, you’re forced to face the reality of your relationship.

Warnings: lots of social anxiety

Word Count: 3.5K

Author’s Note: this got way more dramatic and cheesy than I’d anticipated but ok here we go I guess

______________________________________________________

You fiddled uneasily with the bracelet on your wrist as you stared out the window of the musty taxi cab. Outside, the black night sky was warmed by sunset city lights; you watched them pass by, your forehead resting against the cool glass. You really shouldn’t be this nervous, you kept telling yourself, pulling and squeezing the strings on the bracelet that had stood the abuse for years and somehow survived. Your heart seemed to beat out of tune, feeling foreign and uncomfortable in your chest. It wasn’t just that it was a big social event you were about to attend and you were predisposed to suck at those, no, that part strangely wasn’t what made you feel like ants had burrowed their way into your stomach. It was the fact that you’d see him again.

Mingi and you had been best friends for as long as you could remember. As kids, you’d hunted for beetles together on hot summer days, until the day one flew into his mouth and he was traumatized for life. You’d cheated on tests together, switching papers when the teacher wasn’t looking. You’d stuffed yourselves sick with salty snacks at sleepovers, falling asleep huddled together under the weight of an overload of blankets.

But you hadn’t seen him in nearly a year.

You’d always known what would happen once he debuted. You’d watched his schedule grow slowly into an endless sea you couldn’t seem to wade your way through. You messaged back and forth, of course, though you could feel even this form of contact start to dissipate as of late. Not that you blamed him. You were, aside from his best friend, his number one fan; always had been and always would be.

Mingi’s passion for music and performing had awed you since he first started rapping along to songs in his bedroom. And you were beyond proud of how far he’d come, so there was no way in hell you could ever take away from his accomplishments by telling him how lonely you were steadily becoming.

The car jutted to an abrupt halt and your head bopped against the window with a dull thud. You’d arrived, already, as in, right now.

Oh no.

Your unruly heart threatened to crawl straight up your throat and you found it difficult to breathe. It took you a moment to realize the cab driver was looking at you, a mix of puzzled amusement plastered on his face. You hurriedly paid the quite frankly unreasonable price for the drive and stepped out, immediately starting to rub your arms from the sudden cold; the jacket you wore over your dress was clearly not enough for the December weather. But you’d wanted to wear it. It had been his originally but long claimed by you and it made you feel just that little more at ease, having a part of him with you.

You hurried up to the tall building and entered into the warmth of its air conditioning. You told the lady at the front desk your name and they cleared you from an extensive list.

“That looks like quite the party list,” you said, desperately trying to lighten the mood. Your nails were digging into your arms as if they might just squeeze the nervousness out of them if they tried hard enough.

The woman raised her brows oddly before gracing you with a cold nod.

You cursed yourself as you walked off towards the elevators, inner monologue going rogue.

Why can’t you just be cool for once?

Cause you’re an idiot, that’s why.

One of the elevator doors slid open.

Empty, thank god!

You stepped in, pressed the button and leaned your head back against the clean, metal wall of the small space.

I should have just stayed home. I could have just texted him congratulations and been done with it.

You didn’t know anyone else at the party aside from Mingi. You’d met the other members of the group a fair few times during their trainee days but that felt like ages ago and according to the list, there would be so many more people you didn’t know. They’d probably all be important people; not people like you. You’d stand out. You didn’t want to stand out. You’d want mostly to just blend into the wall, sneak up to you best friend and take him somewhere quiet, somewhere calm. Not that Mingi was ever calm. He was, in a lot of ways, your polar opposite. He was fireworks: explosive and loud and bright, and you were the night sky: dark and quiet and mostly unnoticed. And yet somehow, you’d clung to each other through all these years.

A sudden bell sound made you jump. The doors opened up into a long, white hallway. You could already hear the music. It seeped in through your ears, trickled into your brain, behind your eyes and down your throat like liquid anxiety. Your whole body burned with it within seconds. But you’d promised him you’d be here, so you forced your feet forward towards the celebration.

As expected, the room was already filled to the brim with people. Your fingers tangled into your bracelet again as you took in the sight. The lights were low and music came through the speakers set up all around the room, loud enough to dance but quiet enough to talk. On the far back wall hung a large banner that read: CONGRATULATIONS ATEEZ MAMA 2019. Your lips curled up for a second at the view but the next moment a group of older men in suits pushed past you as if you were nothing but air, knocking you around until they disappeared through the doors behind you. You were too frazzled to even react so instead, you moved closer to the wall and went on observing. Most other people were huddled together in groups, talking excitedly and yup, you didn’t know a single one of them.

Lovely.

You moved along the wall without a clear plan of action, hoping to run into Mingi before you had a full-on meltdown. A drizzle of relief coursed through you as your eyes found the banquet table. You tiptoed over, eagerly grabbing both a plate of shortcake and a glass of champagne. The feel of them in your hands steadied you a bit. You leaned against the wall and sipped your drink, making a mental note to not drink too much, no matter how uncomfortable the night became. You didn’t want the night to end in more embarrassment than it would if you were sober.

Your heart seemed to jolt at the sight of him, like it wanted to jump right out towards him. Mingi was standing with a group of about a half dozen people. He was talking and they were laughing and then he was laughing and you felt a smile tug at your own lips. He looked happy; he looked healthy. You’d been so worried about him these last few months especially. He’d been complaining about joint and back pains for a while but when he was hospitalized, you nearly lost your mind fretting over him. You’d have given anything to go see him, to take care of him but your finals at uni and your two part-time jobs had prevented it from happening. You’d apologized countless times and he’d told you it was fine but you knew the opposite was true.

Maybe part of you didn’t go see him because you were afraid. You were afraid things would be different, afraid seeing him after such a long time would ruin everything. And so you hadn’t.

And now, watching him enjoy the company of newer friends, you found yourself thinking whether perhaps you weren’t really as wanted as you’d hoped.

Fear began to prickle your skin. You downed the rest of your drink and set down your plate. This whole thing was stupid. Eyes scanning the room once more, you headed for the bathrooms. You needed a moment to think. At this point, you wanted to leave but you couldn’t bring yourself to give in just yet, so you sat there on the toilet, mentally talking yourself through your panic. He used to help you through moments like this. He’d sit with you, hug you close and whisper words of encouragement, his deep voice sweet like melting chocolate in your ear. Now there was only the muffled sound of techno music, sending the hairs at the back of your neck right up.

Fuck it.

You got up and took out your phone, the childhood photo of you and Mingi you used as a background lighting up your face. Ignoring the aching feeling in the pit of your stomach, you pulled up the chat the two of you used and began typing.

[Sorry, something came up..]

A fire began to burn under your skin. You hated yourself. You couldn’t do this. Without pressing send, you jammed the phone back in the inner pocket of your jacket. This was ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous. Somewhere buried deep down inside you, you knew you were overreacting — that’s what your anxiety tended to do. It didn’t stop you from feeling what you felt though. You couldn’t think straight. A thought flashed through your mind that maybe, if you had a few more drinks you’d feel more confident. That was exactly the moment you realized you had to get out of there. Tonight just wasn’t the night.

You made your way through the crowd as quick as you could, head spinning from the sudden muchness of the room, the music seemed louder and so did the people. When you finally pulled open the door to the long empty hallway, you heaved a long good breath and it felt like oxygen entered your lungs for the first time since you’d left for the event. You took another breath in and then out, slow though not steady. You started off toward the elevator, trying your hardest not to let the tears that were starting to form in the corners of your eyes fall. This might be the end of your relationship. You couldn’t expect him to keep inviting you to things if you kept backing out at the last minute. You pressed the plastic button that jutted out the wall, playing with the grooves of the thing while you waited when suddenly, a voice called your name that simultaneously gave you chills and set you on fire.

You twisted around to find Mingi in the center of the desolated hallway and your heart gave its biggest tug yet, nearly pulling the ground out from under your feet. The moment your eyes met, his face lit up like he’d never felt this level of joy before in his life, a wide grin flashing across his face, eyes like little twinkly crescent moons. Without another word he opened up his arms wide, his grin turning goofy and this time you were sure the ground truly had been pulled out from under you.

Completely overwhelmed by the brilliance of him, you dashed toward your friend, burying your face into his chest and feeling his long arms wrap around you in return. His familiar scent poured into your pores, filling your soul, completing you, and your muscles relaxed properly for the first time in forever.

“Where have you been?” he asked, squeezing you closer, “I’ve been looking for you all night.”

And just like that, all your previous worries felt like a nightmare long gone, dissipated by the morning sun that was Song Mingi. How could you ever think he would throw you away like that? How could a bond so special be broken by something as silly as a bit of absence. His hands rubbed the small of your back soothingly, instinctively it seemed.

“You okay?” he asked and you felt his head move down to look at you.

You raised your gaze to meet his and clearly, the hurt hadn’t entirely left your face yet because his eyes softened and his brows furrowed. You nodded as your face moved down into his chest again, feeling your cheeks flush hot. It was embarrassing how he could read you like no other, especially during moments of weakness on your part. You wanted to be stronger for him so he wouldn’t have to worry about you all the time.

“I know this isn’t exactly your type of thing,” he went on softly and you could practically hear the smile on his lips, “but I really wanted you to be here.” His chin came to rest on top of your head and he sighed.

You closed your eyes at the sensation you knew all too well, a sense of home washing over you. You felt one of his hands move from your back to your arm, down over your wrist, where he fingered the old bracelet.

“You’re still wearing this?” he stated more than asked and you felt the vibration of his husky voice on top of your head where you connected.

“You’re not wearing yours,” you said back, feeling your heartbeat quicken against him.

He let go of the bracelet, returning his hand to the other at your back, bringing you closer. “It’s in my wallet, silly.”

You shook your head, inhaling him. “I’m sorry for being like this,” you mumbled into his blazer.

Mingi’s hands rose from your back to cup your face, squishing your cheeks playfully — something he used to do often to make you laugh.

“Shut up,” he beamed at you like an actual fucking ray of sunshine and you couldn’t stop yourself from chuckling too. “Can we go back in?” he asked, taking your hands in his, “I promise I’ll stay with you.”

You nodded once more and allowed him to lead you back into the packed room.

It felt less suffocating now he was there with you. He was like your own personal comfort blanket, your secret weapon that could make every hurdle in life seem less frightening.

He brought you to the other members first, since you’d already met them before. You found yourself relaxing into the conversation with much more ease than you’d anticipated and after a while realized you were actually having fun. The boys welcomed you like an old friend, letting you in on their jokes and asking loads of questions. After that, he introduced you to even more people, always with that same radiating smile as he pointed in your direction. You didn’t remember what you were worried about; you were loved.

And so was he. You had trouble keeping your emotions at bay all night as you watched people congratulating your friend, praising him for his hard work, noticing how it lit him up all the way from the pit of his stomach to the tips of his fingers. You wanted the world for him, you always had, and he was finally getting it. And you had the joy of coming along for the ride.

The party started to peter out around midnight, as most of the attendants were required to be at work the following day. Mingi hadn’t let go of you all night and even now, his hand kept tugging at your wrist playfully.

“Do you want to come over tonight?” he grinned down at you, “we don’t have schedules in the morning.”

You looked at him incredulously. “Since when?”

“Since we won a MAMA award, thank you very much,” he sneered, puffing up his chest.

“Calm down, tiddies,” San said, slapping Mingi across the torso, making the other guys burst out into childish laughter.

Mingi shook his head as he laughed too, following his group mates and pulling you behind him.

All the way home, the boys were absolute chaos, screaming and singing and giggling like a horde of first graders. You were tucked away in the back corner of the van cuddled into Mingi’s left arm, observing contently and wondering where they got their energy from. Back at the dorm however, it seemed like everyone was ready for some quiet time, because they all split off towards their shared rooms, leaving just you and Mingi in the living room.

“Let’s watch a movie,” he said, poking your side, “let me take this stuff off first and then we’ll choose something.” He left for his room, emerging a minute later in sweatpants and a loose T-shirt. “Here,” he said, throwing you a similar bundle of clothes, “I’ll get a movie ready, you change.” He walked over to the TV set and began fumbling with the remote.

Knowing he wouldn’t turn around to look, you changed into his clothes on the sofa behind him, relishing how they looked, smelt and felt like him. When you finished and he had yet to pick a movie, you went to the kitchen to hunt for snacks.

Mingi gave you a thumbs up when you arrived with a large bag of potato chips. He then proceeded to pull you down onto the couch with him, his whole body wrapping around you — comfort blanket activated.

He’d put on an animated movie you’d watched together before years ago and loved.

“Nice choice,” you murmured as he pulled you a bit closer to himself, until your head rested comfortably just below his shoulder. You talked quietly as you watched, commenting on the most trivial things and having the best time doing it. His free hand kept plunging into the bag of chips like a madman and you kept slapping it away scolding him for being too loud. In the end you compromised on you silently feeding him a chip every other minute, a compromise he seemed very pleased about.

“You cold?” he mumbled about halfway through, his hand already reaching for the blanket that draped over the sofa behind you. You held the soft fuzz between your fingers, humming agreeably at the feel of it. Mingi took the liberty of laying it over the both of you before once again drawing you to into him.

It was delightfully cozy under the blanket and it made you drowsy. You adored the feel of his frame against you, his warmth radiating and mixing with your own, trapped under the blanket. You noticed the hand that was draped over your shoulder and arm had started trailing little pathways up and down your skin. It was little things like these that got you. Mingi was affectionate with you in a way that came so natural yet made you feel like the most special person in the world. You wondered how he felt. He was focused on the TV screen, still munching on the chips you’d laid between his lips moments ago. After a few seconds, he caught you staring.

“What,” he chuckled down at you and you could swear he looked slightly flushed.

“Nothing,” you answered fast, hiding your own grin below the covers.

His eyes didn’t leave you. All they did was grow happier and happier the longer he stared down at you.

“I’ve missed you,” he said finally, with a smile that was only reserved for you.

You buried yourself deeper into the blanket, positive your face had turned all the way red now.

“I’ve missed you too,” you mumbled quietly but you knew he’d heard you because he replied with a cocky, “I know,” a moment later.

You shot up from the blanket and slapped him on the shoulder, trying to scowl and failing grandiosely and he laughed and you laughed and he brought you closer once again, until you were pretty much sitting in his lap, tugging you onto him, chest to chest in a dangerously warm embrace. And then he said the words you never thought you’d hear the ever-confident boy say.

“You won’t ever leave me, right?” It was barely a whisper, his breath tickling your ear, making you shiver.

Your arms wrapped around him under his as you closed your eyes, drinking in what he’d just said, drinking in as much of him as you could. Then you pulled away, but just slightly, lingering over his cheekbone for a teeniest moment before pressing your lips to the skin gently.

“Never,” you whispered back. 

You felt him squeeze you tighter. “Good,” his low voice said.

You went on with the rest of the movie, feeling yourself start to slowly slip into slumber. You didn’t mind though, you were comfortable just the way you were, snuggled up into Mingi as if you were part of the same person. You molded together like clay, your bodies and scents one and the same, making you feel the most at home you’d ever felt.

Mingi was fireworks alright, but you were the night sky in which he shone the brightest.

[fanyiyimdzs]

Mo Dao Zu Shi: Chapter 6

Masterpost

Previous chapter

Once the sky darkened further, it would be impossible to navigate the forest without a torch. Wei Wuxian continued for a while into the mountain but, surprisingly, encountered barely anyone. Did so many houses really decide to stay in Fojiao Village, arguing and playing armchair general instead of hunting? And had other houses, like the people he had met earlier, really reached their wits’ end and decided to return empty-handed?

Suddenly, cries of help echoed somewhere ahead of him.

“Someone! Please!”

“Rescue us!”

Some of the voices were men, some were women, but all had the panicked, helpless tone of people lost in the wild mountains. There was an eighty to ninety percent chance that this was the work of evil spirits, attempting to lead ignorant naifs into their traps. But Wei Wuxian was very pleased.

The eviler the better! He was only afraid that they wouldn’t be evil enough.

He slapped the donkey and rode toward the sounds’ origin. He saw nothing in any of the four directions, but when he looked upward, he discovered that there were, in fact, no monsters, demons, or ghosts, only the family of small time cultivators he had met near the rice paddies, who were now hanging from the trees in brilliant golden nets.

The middle aged man had originally brought his descendants with him to scout the area, but they didn’t encounter any of the prey they had expected. Instead, they had stepped in some rich person’s net, they didn’t know whose, and were captured and dangled from the tree branches, where they could only complain bitterly and wait for rescue. Sensing someone approaching, they were suddenly overjoyed, but when they saw the person was the lunatic, they immediately lost hope. The binding nets were made of very thin ropes but high quality material; thus, they held fast and didn’t break. Once they caught you, whether you were a god or a ghost or a demon, you had to struggle for a long time in order to break free. Only other, better spiritual tools could cut you out. The lunatic said he’d help them get down, but who knew if he even knew what he was dealing with.

Just as they were about to shout at him to find help, the sound of agile feet dashing over branches and leaves approached them. Through the black mountain forest swept a youth wearing a light, pale robe.

This young master had a vermillion mark between his eyebrows. His features were delicate and pretty, yet also harsh and unkind, and he was very young, around Lan Sizhui’s age. He was still half a child, but held a longbow in his hand, wore a quiver of arrows on his back, and a long sword which shined with golden light and glittered with gemstones. The embroidery on his clothes was as exquisite as any, uniting into a white peony over his chest, the golden threads slim glimmers in the night.

Wei Wuxian sighed and muttered, “Rich people!”

The boy was surely some young master from the Lanling Jin Clan. Only that clan used the white peony as its emblem, suggesting that their own beauty was comparable to the flower’s. The white peony was also the king of flowers, and thus through it, the Lanling Jin Clan also subtly advertised that it, too, was the king of cultivators. The vermillion mark on their foreheads represented “enlightenment and ideals illuminating the world.”

The young master had originally nocked an arrow on his bow, itching to shoot, but upon seeing that the binding nets contained only people, he was sorely disappointed. He whipped around suddenly, irritation written across his face. “Every single time it’s you idiots. There are over 400 binding nets hanging around this mountain and none of them have caught anything, but already you people have ruined nearly twenty of them!”

Wei Wuxian’s thoughts continued to be, “Rich people!”

A single binding net already cost more than a humble sum, but this boy had used four hundred in a single go. The price was enough to ruin a slightly smaller house—the boy was sure worthy of the name “Jin.” But this kind of abuse of binding nets to capture prey hardly counted as night-hunting, which meant their true purpose was to keep people away and give them no opportunity to take a share of the spoils. It seemed the cultivators who had withdrawn earlier had done so not because the prey was too tough, but because offending an old, illustrious house like House Jin was more trouble than it was worth.

After journeying freely for a few days and eavesdropping on interesting conversations in Fojiao Village, Wei Wuxian had heard more than a little of how the tides of fortune had turned in the world of cultivation these past few years. The Lanling Jin Clan had emerged as the primary winner of the period of chaotic clan warfare preceding his death, and now was the leader of all the clans and houses of cultivation—even their Clan Chief was now called Chief Cultivator. Prior to this, the Jin Clan had already possessed haughty airs and an inclination towards ostentatious displays of beauty and magnificence; since they had risen higher and higher these past few years, amassing even more wealth and power, their children had developed a tendency to run amuck. Even if the brats humiliated weaker houses, those houses could only swallow their anger and hold their tongues. These small village cultivators stood even less of a chance, so though this youth’s language was cutting and their faces were flushed red, the people hanging in the nets dared not bite back. 

The middle aged man calmly and respectfully said, “Please, Young Master, help us out and free us.”

The youth, impatient that his prey was taking so long to appear, vented his anger on the country bumpkins. Clenching his fist, he said, “How about you just hang here? That way you won’t randomly run around and get in my way! Once I’m done catching the soul-eating creature, I’ll cut you down if I still remember.”

If they were forced to hang here the whole night and whatever was prowling around Dafan Mountain happened to find them, they had no hope of getting away and their souls would be sucked dry. The round-faced girl who had given Wei Wuxian the apple became scared and started loudly crying. Wei Wuxian originally sat crossed-legged on the donkey’s back, but when the donkey heard her sobs, its long ears shook and it suddenly leapt up.

After it had leapt up, it let out a long bray, and if only the bray didn’t sound so ugly, to compare its relentless, heroic charge to that of a legendary steed would have been no exaggeration. Caught off-guard, Wei Wuxian was thrown off the donkey’s back and narrowly avoided cracking his head and bleeding all over his own face. The donkey looked forward, lowered its big head, and rushed straight at the youth, as though it firmly believed its skull could send him flying. But the youth’s arrow was still nocked, and he had just begun to pull back the bowstring. Wei Wuxian didn’t want to be forced to find a new mount so soon, so he repeatedly yanked on the donkey’s reins with all his strength. As the youth caught a glimpse of Wei Wuxian’s face, shock flew across his expression, which immediately melted into disdain. His lip curled. “Oh. It’s you.”

His voice was one fifth astonishment and four fifths revulsion. Hearing it, Wei Wuxian could only blink. The youth then said, “What, so once you were kicked back to your old home, you went insane? Look at how ghastly you’ve made yourself look. I can’t believe they had the guts to let you out and let other people see you!”

What ridiculous thing had he just heard?!

Was he really…?—Wei Wuxian slapped his thigh. Was Mo Xuanyu’s dad not some random, small-time house leader, but actually the renowned Jin Guangshan?!

Jin Guangshan had been the Lanling Jin Clan’s previous Clan Chief and had long since died. It was a long story. He had a highly celebrated and fearsome wife who was widely known to dominate his personality. But despite his fear of her, he couldn’t stay away from other women, and no matter how fearsome Lady Jin was, she couldn’t keep an eye fixed on him twenty four hours a day. Thus, on the surface, they were a fine and illustrious loving family, but behind the curtain, Jin Guangshan wandered the wilderness and the countryside, satiating his carnal lusts—as long as he could have a girl, he wouldn’t let her slip by. Moreover, because he so carelessly trampled around the grass, picking flowers and sowing his wild oats, he had acquired a herd of illegitimate children everywhere and in all directions. He was also extremely fickle, loved novelty, and hated habit. Once he became bored of a woman, he tossed all thought of her out of the window and did not feel a tingling of responsibility anywhere inside his head. 

Even his death was unseemly. Confident that though he was old, he was vigorous, and wanting to challenge himself, he decided to fool around with a whole flock of women simultaneously. But unfortunately, he lost his own challenge and died amidst the throes of passion. Of course, this was far too embarrassing for House Jin to let pass through their lips, and thus the Lanling Jin Clan reported to the rest of the world that their old Chief had worked himself too hard and died of exhaustion. Hence, a tacit understanding developed—all houses would act as though they didn’t know. In short, this was the true reason for Jin Guangshan’s “renown.”

After Jiang Cheng, Jin Guangshan had made the second biggest contribution to the Siege of the Burial Mounds. Now Wei Wuxian occupied his illegitimate son’s body, and it was hard to say who had ultimately come out ahead.

Noticing that Wei Wuxian had zoned out, the youth, filled with hatred, said, “Fuck off! Why haven’t you fucked off yet? Just looking at you makes me sick. Gay piece of shit.”

In terms of lineage, Mo Xuanyu was probably this youth’s uncle or something similar, a generation above him, yet the boy still tried to humiliate him. Wei Wuxian thought that he really had to return the humiliation, if not for himself, then at least for Mo Xuanyu’s body. He said, “Your mom may have had you, but she sure didn’t raise you.”

Immediately upon hearing these words, two rage-filled flames flashed within the youth’s eyes. He pulled a longsword from the sheath on his back and said menacingly, “You—what did you say?”

The blade shined with brilliant golden light—it was a rare, first-class weapon. Many houses could toil for an entire lifetime without touching a sword its equal. Scrutinizing it, Wei Wuxian found it looked unexpectedly familiar, though on the other hand, he had seen more than his fair share of golden-tipped swords. Consequently, he didn’t consider it further and instead began turning the small cloth pouch in his hand.

This was a “spirit-locking pouch,” which he had put together out of a few scrap materials he happened to pick up the past few days. The youth hacked at him, but he pulled out a small sheet of paper cut in the shape of a man, sidestepped the swing, and slapped it onto his opponent’s back.

The youth’s movements were very quick, but Wei Wuxian had a great deal of practice with things like tripping opponents and slapping paper seals on their backs—he was even faster. The center of the youth’s back went numb, then his entire back grew heavy, and then he had no option but to fall face first onto the ground, his sword clattering down beside him. However hard he tried, he couldn’t get back up, as though he were being crushed by Mt. Tai.1 A gluttonous dark spirit lied atop him, pressing down on him until he was gasping for breath. The little ghost, though weak, was more than enough to handle this kind of brat. Wei Wuxian picked up the boy’s sword, weighed it in his hands, and sliced through the binding nets above his head.

The members of the family looked quite pathetic as they dropped down. Without a word, they bolted. The round-faced young woman looked as though she wanted to thank him, but was yanked away by one of her seniors for fear that this Young Master Jin might come to bear a more bitter grudge against them if they spoke too much. The boy on the ground said angrily, “You gay piece of shit! You failed at developing your spiritual power, so now you’ve taken the evil way instead? You better watch out! Do you know who’s here today? Today, I…”

Wei Wuxian clasped his hands over his completely insincere heart. “Ah! I’m so scared!”

Though his old practices attracted widespread castigation and, over the long term, damaged the practitioner’s body and mind, they had rapid results and weren’t limited by innate skill or spiritual strength. Thus many were extremely tempted—there was never a lack of people who secretly craved shortcuts. This youth assumed that after Mo Xuanyu had been chased out of the Lanling Jin Clan, he had decided to walk the crooked path. It was a reasonable, fair suspicion, and allowed Wei Wuxian to avoid a lot of needless trouble.

Bracing himself against the ground, the boy tried and failed to crawl back up a few more times. His face now thoroughly red, he gritted his teeth and said, “If you don’t remove this curse I’ll tell my uncle! He’ll kill you!”

Finding this odd, Wei Wuxian said, “Why your uncle and not your dad? Who’s your uncle?”

Suddenly, he heard a voice behind him, grim, cold, and bitter like a wintry forest. “I’m his uncle. Do you have any last words?”

Upon hearing this sound, all of the blood in Wei Wuxian’s body seemed to rush toward his head at once, then completely evacuate it shortly thereafter. It was fortunate that his face was already as white as death—if it got any whiter, no one would notice.

A young man sauntered towards him, clad in light, violet robes with hemmed in sleeves,2 his hand pressed against the pummel of his sword. A silver bell dangled from his waist, but when he walked, Wei Wuxian couldn’t hear any ringing.

The young man’s apricot eyes were topped with slim, sleek brows and gave the impression of sharp, penetrating beauty. His gaze was heavy; a faint aggression burned beneath the surface, and to meet his eyes was to be struck by two cold bolts of lightning. He walked until he was ten paces from Wei Wuxian, then stood in silence, his expression like an arrow on a tight bowstring. A conceited arrogance emanated from his countenance as he waited.

Frowning, he said, “Jin Ling, how much time are you going to waste? Do you need me to go over there and invite you back? Look at your sorry state—why the hell haven’t you gotten back up!?”

Once the initial shock passed, Wei Wuxian’s conscious awareness rapidly returned. He curled his fingers inside his sleeves and recalled the paper man. Jin Ling, sensing the burden on his back lightening, immediately rolled, grabbed his sword, and scrambled up. In a flash, he was by Jiang Cheng’s side, pointing angrily at Wei Wuxian. “I’m going to break your legs!”

As he saw the uncle and the nephew standing side-by-side, Wei Wuxian could indeed make out some similarities in their features—in fact, they looked like brothers. Jiang Cheng gestured and the paper man escaped from Wei Wuxian’s grasp, flying into the Clan Chief’s hand. He glanced at it, spite burst in his eyes, and he clenched the paper between his fingers. A spurt of flame engulfed it, and the spirit inside screamed as it was burned to ashes.

Jiang Cheng said darkly, “Break his legs? Haven’t I told you that if you come across someone who practices these sinister things, you should just kill him and feed him to your dog?”

Wei Wuxian didn’t even remember to hold onto the donkey’s reins as he rapidly backed away. Originally, he had thought that, however much Jiang Cheng had despised him so many years ago, by now the Clan Chief’s hatred, like fog or smoke, should have been scattered by the winds of time. How could he have known forgiveness or even forgetfulness would hardly come at such a low price? Not only did Jiang Cheng’s hatred fail to dissipate, it had aged like wine, growing stronger and stronger as the years passed. He had started to take it out on any cultivator who imitated his despised former friend!

With someone behind him to protect and support him, Jin Ling swung his sword all the more viciously. Wei Wuxian’s fingers probed the entrance of the spirit-locking pouch. But just as he was about to take action, a flash of blue sword-light swept past him like lightning, clashing with Jin Ling’s blade, shattering the weapon’s golden rays in an instant.

The outcome did not result from a difference in the quality of the swords, but rather the vast disparity in the wielders’ strength. Wei Wuxian had originally timed his trick perfectly, but, unexpectedly thrown off step by the tip of a blade sailing past, stumbled and crashed into the ground right in front of a pair of snow white boots. He froze for some time before slowly lifting his head.

The first image that shined into his eye was the edge of a blade, glittering and translucent like ice. 

In the world of cultivation, this sword was very renowned. Wei Wuxian had learned of its might from countless fights, both shoulder to shoulder and face to face with its wielder. The hilt was forged out of silver with a secret technique known only to the smith. The blade was extremely thin and as clear as the purest crystal; icy air emanated from it like breath and iron parted before it as though it were no more than clay. The entire sword was graceful, agile, and awash in enchanted mist. But contrary to its light appearance, it was leadened with weight; an ordinary person was entirely unable to swing it.

—“Bichen”3 was its name.

The tip of the blade swung around, and a shing sounded above Wei Wuxian’s head as it returned to its scabbard. Meanwhile, Jiang Cheng’s voice rang from far away. “I was wondering who it was, Second Master Lan.”

The pair of white boots circled past Wei Wuxian, neither hasty nor slow, then walked forward three steps. Wei Wuxian raised himself up. As he brushed past Young Master Lan, their gazes met briefly. Wei Wuxian pretended it was unintentional.

The young man’s whole body was draped in white silk that shined like moonlight. On his back he bore a seven-stringed guqin, which was uncommonly narrow and made of a soft, raven-feather black wood. A white, cloud-patterned ribbon was tied around his forehead, and his skin was fair and unblemished. Like polished jade, he was both extremely beautiful and extremely refined.

His eyes were very light, as if made of colored glaze, making his gaze appear cold and detached. His expression was tinged with frost and snow, and was solemn but not quite stiff. Though he saw Wei Wuxian’s ridiculous appearance, not a single reaction rippled across his placid face.

Not a single speck of dust soiled his appearance, nor was a single hair or thread out of place, nor did a single point in his countenance breech etiquette. Despite all of this, two words jumped into Wei Wuxian’s head:

“Mourning clothes!”

They really did look like mourning clothes. No matter how many people extravagantly praised the beauty of the Lan Clan’s uniforms, as though they were flowers floating on the breeze, and no matter Lan Wangji’s reputation as a man of peerless, once-in-a-century beauty, his appearance still resembled that of a widower nursing a deep, bitter hate.

The year was inauspicious, and enemies traveling along a narrow road were bound to meet. Blessings always came alone, but misfortunes, never unaccompanied.

Without uttering a word or glancing away, Lan Wangji stood face-to-face with Jiang Cheng, motionless. Jiang Cheng himself was an exceedingly handsome man, but compared to the one before him, his beauty was indeed somewhat inferior. Impatiently, he raised an eyebrow and said, “Hanguang Jun, you’re undoubtedly deserving of your fine reputation for ‘appearing where the chaos is,’ so how do you have the time to visit these old forests and mountains today?”

Elite cultivators like them normally disdained to take notice of low level prey, but Lan Wangji was an exception. He was never selective about what he hunted, and would never refuse to go after a monster or demon just because it wasn’t violent or fierce enough for killing it to improve his reputation. Ever since he was young, as long as someone requested help, he would come. Thus, “appearing where the chaos is” was the phrase everyone used to describe Hanguang Jun’s night-hunting habits, and a form of praise for his character.

Jiang Cheng’s tone was therefore remarkably rude. The flock of juniors who followed behind Lan Wangji, upon hearing the Clan Chief’s words, grew quite uncomfortable. Lan Jingyi, habitually blunt, said, “But isn’t Chief Jiang here too?”

Jiang Cheng replied coldly, “Tsk, when your seniors are talking, is it your place to interject? The Gusu Lan Clan boasts of having the utmost concern for etiquette, yet it teaches its disciples like this.”

 Appearing uninterested in arguing with him, Lan Wangji glanced at Lan Sizhui, indicating that the juniors should settle this among themselves. Stepping forward, the boy said to Jin Ling, “Young Master Jin, night-hunts have always been fair competitions between clans and houses, but you’ve hung up these nets everywhere around Dafan Mountain. It makes it difficult for other cultivators to navigate the forest for fear they’ll fall into a trap. Doesn’t this violate the rules?“

Jin Ling’s frosty expression was the exact same as his uncle’s. “They’re the ones who stepped into the net,” he said immediately. “It’s not my fault they were stupid. If you have a problem, wait until I finish catching my prey first. Then we can talk.”

Lan Wangji wrinkled his brow. Jin Ling was about to continue speaking, but suddenly found he could no longer open his mouth, nor could his throat produce any sound. Startled, he turned pale. Jiang Cheng looked at his nephew and saw that his lips were stuck together, inseparable by ordinary methods. His face began to grow red out of anger, and his words lost any veneer of politeness they had previously had. “You with the surname Lan! What do you mean by this? Jin Ling isn’t yours to discipline! Undo it!”

This silencing spell was used by the Lan Clan to punish disciples for making mistakes. Wei Wuxian himself had fallen victim to the trick on several occasions. Though it wasn’t a complicated, high-level spell, no one but members of House Lan could undo it. If someone forced their mouth open, either their lips would be shredded and start to bleed, or their throat would be mute for several days. Thus, the victim was forced to stay quiet, keep their mouth shut, and reflect on their shortcomings, until the entire period of punishment passed. Lan Sizhui said, “Chief Jiang, there’s no need to be angry. As long as he doesn’t try to break the spell by force, it will undo itself in twenty to thirty minutes.”4

Jiang Cheng was just about to open his mouth when a man in a violet Jiang Clan uniform bounded out of the forest, shouting, “Chief!” When he saw Lan Wangji, his face turned hesitant. Mockingly, Jiang Cheng said, “What’s the bad news you’re bringing to me this time? You may as well spit it out.”

The messenger said quietly, “Not long ago, a blue sword flew around and ruined the binding nets you set up, sir.”

Jiang Cheng glowered at Lan Wangji, the fury in his heart rapidly leaking into his expression. “How many?”

The messenger very carefully said, “…all of them…”

Over four hundred!

Jiang Cheng seethed.

He very much hadn’t expected this outing to be so wretched. Originally, he had come to help Jin Ling, who would turn fifteen this year and should be embarking on his career and competing with other juniors for experience and reputation. Jiang Cheng had carefully sifted through the options before choosing Dafan Mountain as their hunting grounds, and then covered the area with nets to scare off cultivators from other houses. Because the nets would make navigation very difficult, they would have no option but to leave, thus eliminating the competition and leaving the prey to Jin Ling. Though four hundred binding nets cost an exorbitant price, it wasn’t much to the Yunmeng Jiang Clan. The actual destruction of the nets was a small issue—the big issue was the loss of face. The fact that Lan Wangji had done such a thing made bitter resentment bleed from his heart and circulate up towards his head—the higher it got, the more resentful he became. He narrowed his eyes, and unconsciously or not, began stroking the ring around his right index finger with his left hand.

This was a dangerous motion.

Everyone knew that ring was a fierce, deadly weapon. Once the Chief of Clan Jiang began to touch it, he intended to kill.

__________________

Translation notes:

1 A mountain in northeast China, one of its “Five Great Mountains,” and an important religious and ceremonial site.

2 Literally “arrow sleeved,” a style of sleeve with a narrow wrist opening, unlike traditional hanfu sleeves.

3 Literally “to avoid dust.”

4 Literally “in the time it takes an incense stick to burn,” which is twenty to thirty minutes.

Next chapter

Masterpost

[makeste]

some meta on chapter 236 regarding Kotaro, Tomura's quirk upgrade, and potential ways for AFO to continue tormenting the Shimuras in the future

okay I’m back. here’s another ask from @thequietmanno1! I think there’s like four or five more of these to go. my initial goal of getting through them all in an evening and then going on to respond to other asks as well may have been sliiightly unrealistic. idk sometimes you just sit down and you’re all “fuck yeah I’m about to type me some WORDS” and you get carried away.

this ask is in regards to chapter 236, I’m pretty sure!

---

To be honest, when Kotaro smacked Tenko with the weed clippers (giving him the mouth scar he has today) I read that as being a bit accidental and fueled by panic. I think he was trying to maybe push Tenko back with the weed clippers, use them as a pole to shove him away before whatever effect his quirk was causing affected him. But due to his blind panic, footing due to the decaying ground, and perhaps a subconscious anger towards his son for what he’d done, he hit him in the face again. Partly by accident and bad luck- his face afterwards is clearly somewhat shocked and ashamed by what he’d just done, though he’s still scared of Tenko- but his next action, rather than resuming his attack with the weed clipper in his right hand, was to reach out with his empty left hand towards Tenko, perhaps realising that he didn’t want to hurt him, and he needed to treat his son with kindness, appeal to him as a parent rather than as an abuser. But it was simply too late.

You could also see this as a kind of “what you are in the dark” test that Kotaro failed- his wife tried to help Tenko to her last breath, but when faced with his impending death, Kotaro’s action was to instinctually protect himself with violence. Still, it’s interesting that the whole “AFO give him the decay quirk” doesn’t have any definitive answers to support or deny it yet. Like, if this was just a casual reader checking out the story, they might accept the “destructive mutation” explanation without question, but thanks to your theorising there’s a definite possibility of there being more to the story than Tenko knows. But crucially, while Horikoshi hasn’t outright confirmed it yet, he hasn’t given us anything that denies this as a possibility either, so it lets us, the readers, feel smart for noticing the little clues before they become relevant.

That said, again this chapter brings up something Re-Destro and Toga alluded to- that the concept of ‘personality powers’ is very much at play in the MHA universe, and may even be enforced by the power itself. Toga had a yearning and lust for blood as the result of her quirk; even though that isolated her from normal society, it was still part of her psyche, something that just existed alongside her, as natural as the urge to breathe. Similarly, Tenko here seems to have had a natural urge to destroy things around him. His statement about how “the itch went away” leads me to believe that the itch was his subconscious desire to destroy contrasted with his childlike innocence and non-desire to harm others. Hell, perhaps his allergies were a side effect of suppressing his power’s potential and it causing microscopic damage to his body- decaying his skin cells, for example. At the very least, the weird damage around his eyes doesn’t seem to be caused by a normal allergy. Plus, if he got the quirk at some point before we think he did- he might have received it as some undocumented point in the past, and the policeman dropping him off could be AFO in disguise checking up on his investment and his progress towards using the quirk- then there’d be time for it to affect his body and be mistaken for an allergy. The damage to his eyes doesn’t seem to be too bad when we first see him, so he can’t have had it for long.

Incidentally, here we can see that Tenko’s powers effect seems to be tied to his emotions, similarly to how black whip is to Deku (perhaps, when Shigaraki gets All for One’s quirk, he’ll be gifted with Quirks that complement and contrast with Deku’s own 7 quirks, just to balance out their battles?) Tenko’s first use on Mon seemed accidental and left the dog mostly intact- you can see the whole left side of his body in one piece, so the dog was killed simply because he was in contact with Tenko’s fingers. But with the others, it seems like the decay almost sought them out, moving from object to object until it reached its intended targets, like a wave of corruption. Hana wasn’t directly touched- Tenko just grabbed her clothes, and his mom and the grandparents were destroyed when the decay spread through the grounds towards them. On the panel where Kotaro first sees Tenko and the destruction, you can see that the decay stopped shortly after reaching the spots where their bodies were standing. And when Tenko sees Kotaro, the decay- which had stopped- starts up again even stronger than before, completely destroying the yard and preventing Kotaro from running away. It seems like the decay is fueled by Tenko’s subconscious hatred towards his family for their treatment during his abuse, attacking them based on his pure emotional response towards them even when his mind and heart are screaming otherwise. It’s like it’s keyed directly into the emotion of Pure Hate, and that may be why Tenko’s usage of it varies so much throughout the series.

I think AFO telling him to keep the hands close may have been a sick means of giving him control over that Primal Emotion, and the quirk with it. The feeling of hatred that drives Tomura now is so all consuming that his Quirk’s initial usage seems indiscriminate- he hates the world entire, so his quirk destroys everything all 5 fingers touch, but that ‘5 finger discount’ rule may just have been a rule AFO helped implant in his mind during his Control phase growing up. He can actually use the decay without it, but doing so seems to make it more powerful. Like, learning to use it with 5 fingers made the quirk easier to control, but weaker overall, hence why Aizawa didn’t lose his arm. As the series has progressed and Tomura’s enmity with Midoriya and the losses he’s had to endure around the new symbol have shaped him, Tomura’s become more capable of mastering his actions and emotions, his personality slowly changing from the experiences he’s faced into someone more in control of himself. Hence his power now reaching a new, more controlled state as he remembers his childhood trauma and thus unlocks the raw destructive power he had with that trauma, now more emotionally equipped to handle it, focus it and use it to his will.

This ‘targeted’ aspect of the quirk may be why it suddenly seems to develop a ‘corruption spreading’ effect during this arc. If the Quirk’s tied into his emotions and perceptions of what he’s using it on, then he was able to dust the entire group and once (and part of the street they were standing on) because his sleep-deprived perception perceived them as one large object, hence allowing him to use it on a large area. Similarly, when Shigaraki dusts the tower, neither Giran nor Re-Destro were affected despite this chapter making it clear that the decay can spread through the ground, because Shigaraki didn’t see them in the tower, and wasn’t ordering the quirk to affect them. (His desire to rescue Giran may also have been a factor.) And it didn’t affect Re-Destro because he’d just been a voice on a radio to Shigaraki up till then, so he didn’t have an ‘image’ to focus the decay with.

Also, I read this somewhere- can’t remember the source- but the deaths of Tenko’s family are symbolic of their relationship and actions towards Tenko’s abuse. Mon died loving and hugging Tenko and not making a sound despite literally being spit into pieces, because he was the boy’s source of comfort after he got locked in the garden. Hana turned her back on Tenko when she pinned the blame on their trespassing on his desire to see his grandma, and died with her back to him. The grandparents died standing far away from Tenko, just as they stood aside when Kotaro locked him out. His mother died trying to make a futile attempt to love and confront him that never managed to reach him or stop the pain he was feeling. And Kotaro died leaving a physical scar on his son, rather than a ton of mental ones, and was the only one the decay was focused on, hence why his body was almost completely decayed apart from the hands, and his house that he built to deny heroes was also destroyed. Also here we get an idea of what Tenko’s decay actually does- it seems to split the target apart into small individual chucks like they’ve been hit by a messy version of a Blade Mode move from Revengance. The more modern, controlled version Shigaraki uses in the present day seems to apply the principle on a microscopic level, appearing to ‘dust’ the target as it falls apart into its component molecules. The preciseness of the splitting seems to vary with the level of enmity and Shigaraki’s perceptions. Hana and the rest were somewhat intact, but Kotaro seemed to get more shredded than the others, because Tenko focused his pure hatred on him and the house that symbolised his control over his son, and the torment he’d suffered within its walls, so his currant ‘hate everything’ mentality allows him to freely use the quirk within the self-imposed ‘5 finger’ restriction in a more precise and focused manner in the present.

Lastly, I feel confident in predicting that at some point in the future, Midoriya is gonna discover the truth of Shigaraki’s origins, and that will, in turn, let Nana witness what became of the son she left behind. I see two ways this is possible. Firstly, Deku’s freaky past-vision powers that he’s experiencing with OFA may also allow him to somehow interact with Shigaraki at some point and see inside his nemesis’s head, giving him a good idea of what made him into his mortal enemy and letting him recontextualise Tomura as his opposite- someone who started from a similar place, but took a different path to him. Perhaps the fact that Tomura has part of Nana’s DNA would allow Midoriya the ability to interact with him in specific circumstances- OFA contains Nana’s spirt, so it may react to familiar DNA that it once resided in and was nurtured with. Alternatively, AFO, after being freed by Shigaraki, may lure Midoriya to a remote, isolated location and, rather than hurting him, will play footage of Tenko’s origin and subsequent rampage in front of the horrified teen, captured from Spy cameras he discreetly planted around the house shortly after he gave Tenko the Quirk, just to taunt Midoriya, and more specifically Nana and All Might, about how hard the previous generations failed him, and how he’s nothing but a vessel of evil and hatred worthy of carrying AFO’s legacy forward. Perhaps your theory that AFO was the actual first Holder and the two Quirks are one and the same, and thus joined together, may allow him to directly interact with and taunt the previous holders ‘face-to-face’ as it were. My fondness for the former makes me reluctant to support the “AFO gave Tenko his Quirk” theory simply because it would be so much more ‘devastating’ if he was actually innocent of this particular tragedy, and could smugly rub that fact in the heroes faces.

Frankly, we won’t get answers to the theory that he gave Tenko an extraordinary lethal quirk and just waited for the explosion until he’s out, but I like the fact that, one way or another, AFO had a hand in shaping Tenko’s origin as a villain by forcing Nana to abandon Kotaro and then killing her before they could reconcile. That said, I feel it would be so much more narratively traumatic and damaging to the heroes if he could claim, with complete honesty and no means of lying or twisting the truth, that that indirect abandonment was the extent of his involvement. Sure, he took advantage of a godsend opportunity, but he’s innocent of the abusive household atmosphere that poisoned Tenko and his subsequent Lethal Rampage- that’s all on All Might, Gran Torino and most especially Nana. If the former ‘past-vision’ method is how Midoriya learns of it, then it would also allow Nana to show and express her grief at how badly things turned out for her child and her well-meaning intentions- I can totally see this so far strong, confident, charming and reliable woman that we’ve seen so far in All Might’s flashbacks being so overwhelmed by the enormity of her failure that she collapses to her knees in a wordless scream, exactly like Deku did when Bakugou got dragged through the Warp gate. If it’s the latter ‘spy camera’ version, then it would serve no purpose for Midoriya directly, but would allow AFO to hurt the previous Holders through him. After all, doesn’t he seem like exactly the kind of person who’d cause a dead woman to cry, just to savour her misery?

--- 

damn dude, you sure know how to paint a picture lol. this is a very specific theory, and I’m not sure I could see it happening myself, although it would sure make for some good angst. but... how to explain this. just, I’m very attached to the idea of Nana being every inch the strong, unshakable woman with an indomitable spirit that All Might saw her as. so I wouldn’t actually want to see her break down like this. this is the woman who taught All Might, the Symbol of Peace, what it means to smile. this is the person whose spirit carried him through his darkest times. so the thought of her being reduced to a helpless image of grief, needing Deku to avenge her, just rubs me the wrong way. if anything, were she to ever learn the full truth, while she would no doubt be shaken, I would want her to respond with determination to save her grandchild. AFO’s already basked in enough misery; he doesn’t deserve to win this one. he consistently underestimates people’s hearts and spirits, and I want that to continue to be his downfall.

backtracking to the beginning of your post, I like your interpretation of the complicated thoughts running through Kotaro’s head in his last moments, and his actions. he was scared, and clearly isn’t one to shy away from violence. but at the same time this was his son, and in spite of his abusive behavior, he still clearly cares about him, and was already feeling remorse about his earlier actions based on his conversation with his wife and in-laws. I really like what you said about the contrast between him and Tenko’s mother. it really is a shame, Kotaro. in another life you could have been a better man.

I’m still holding out hope for the AFO-gave-him-the-quirk theory to be true, though it could go either way! as I’ve said, I still think Tomura will turn on AFO eventually, although it will definitely take some time, and I agree with @addermoray that Tomura’s already far gone enough at this point that his initial response to learning about the deception might even be gratitude. but I’m still banking on his once-it-has-time-to-sink-in response being decidedly less grateful (or at the very least, being more of a “you know what, my family may have sucked, but fuck you too”). that may require some Deku-jesusing to put things into perspective for him. anyways, this is basically just more of the same old speculation, and I think you know my thoughts on that by this point lol.

I don’t think Tomura is actually going to get AFO’s quirk, though? I could be dead wrong about that one. but that’s one thing I could never see AFO doing, even if he did intend to die and leave Tomura to carry on his legacy. I feel like he’d let the quirk die with him. Tomura, in any case, certainly appears to be strong enough on his own as it is now, sob.

I think you’re absolutely right about the nature of Tenko’s quirk and how it ties in to his emotions. and interesting analysis of how Tomura’s decay and its spread works! I haven’t attempted to give it much thought (part of me may be hoping that Horikoshi’s constant urge to explain quirks in great detail will win out sooner or later and we’ll get an official explanation), but this seems pretty accurate.

and that symbolism with Tomura’s family’s deaths also went over my head when I read the chapter, but that also seems spot on! I keep finding new ways to appreciate this flashback, man. it just traumatizes in all the right ways, damn.

[degenerate-perturbation]

Chapters: 14/? Fandom: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Female Amell/Female Surana Characters: Female Amell, Female Surana, Anders, Velanna, Nathaniel Howe, Oghren (Dragon Age), Justice (Dragon Age), Sigrun (Dragon Age) Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Self-Harm, Blood Magic, Prostitution Series: Part 2 of void and light, blood and spirit Summary: Amell and Surana are out of the Circle, and are now free to build a life together. But when the prison doors fly open, what do you have in common with the one shackled next to you, save for the chains that bound you both?

Yvanne hadn’t meant to stay in Highever long. Only enough to get her bearings, recover, figure out where she was going to go, what she was going to do. But that first night, after she’d gone down and gotten a drink and not felt any better, she figured she may as well have another one. Then another. Then she drank until she forgot what she was drinking about, then slept til well past noon.

She woke with a splitting hangover. Almost thoughtlessly, she reached for the Fade to provide some desperately needed relief—and then remembered the cloth merchant. Fear electrified her. No, she daren’t risk it.

Without magic, she had no choice but to lay there and experience the hangover’s full wrath. It would be a novelty, if nothing else (though soon it would cease to be that, too.) Having a hangover took up most of her afternoon, after which she scrounged enough of herself up to go have her first meal of the day, which ended up being dinner. And after dinner was as good a time as any to start drinking again.

So it went.

A week passed like that, and then another, and then she was out of money. She could hardly expect to leave Highever if she had no money, so she sold one of her amulets. A Tranquil woman running a magic shop ended up giving her the best price, and the memory of her flattened voice and the vivid (recent?) sun brand on her forehead drove Yvanne to drink all the more that night. It all ended with her vomiting on the floor. The innkeeper looked ready to throw her out, but the clink of her newly-gained gold pieces discouraged any haste.

Sometimes she idly wondered about the cloth merchant who she had robbed and whose mind she had very possibly destroyed. But she rarely wondered for long. That was the thing about encounters with a spirit of Forgetting—they didn’t stick around in your mind for very long. Besides, she had more important things to worry about. The amulet had sold for a good bit more than the cloth. She figured she could afford to stay at the inn for a while, buy some supplies, and head out soon.

But weeks later half that money was gone, and she had no plan, no gear, and no will to get either. So she stayed at the inn.

She’d get out, she told herself. Just not yet. She wasn’t ready.

She missed Oghren. If he was here she would have felt better. More normal, anyway. She wondered where he was now. Probably still at the Keep, drinking himself to death without even a friend to do it with. Though she hadn’t even been a very good friend, had she? A better friend wouldn’t have let herself get dragged into the muck right alongside him. A better friend would have tried harder.

Oh, well. She’d always half-suspected that she was scum. If nothing else, it was nice to feel like she’d been right about herself.

A month later, she sold an armband to keep herself housed and watered, and no longer bothered to pretend that she had any intention of leaving. In fact, she had zero intentions at all.

It wasn’t so bad. In a lot of ways she was better off now than before. Nobody relied on her. She had no responsibilities. If she wanted to sleep all day and drink all night (which she did), nobody suffered. Best of all, when she thought about Loriel (and she thought about Loriel every couple minutes, in those early days), she didn’t feel a sick mix of dread and misery—she just felt fucking  angry. No wonder Velanna had been so fucking angry all the time, shortly after her whole life had been destroyed by her own hand. Angry was good. Angry was easy.

It was  her  fault that she was in this position.  She’d  driven her here, made their shared lives unlivable.  She  had set everything they had on fire and dared Yvanne to watch it burn,  she  had taken  everything  from her. If  she’d given so much as an inch none of this would have ever happened. If she had put in the smallest iota of effort, if she'd cared about Yvanne the tiniest little bit, they could still have been happy together.

( You couldn’t have been,  a voice inside her whispered,  and it’s your own fault for not seeing it sooner.)

How could she just not care? How could it not matter? How could she do this to them? She hated her, she  hated her—nearly as much as she still loved her.

—

She decided early on that she would be a mage no longer. She did no magic, carried no staff. The part of her that knew magic was atrophying day by day, and she was glad of it. If she never again touched the Fade, never again felt its cool waters and infinite varieties—that would be fine. Good, even. Better to be free. Better to be safe.

What had magic ever brought her but pain?

She never gave her real name. Yvanne Amell was somebody’s wife, somebody’s friend, somebody’s mentor and commander, so she would no longer be Yvanne Amell. The innkeeper who had been putting up with her presence knew her as nobody at all, and anybody else that asked got a different answer every time.

One week she met a well-off Antivan trader, rich in silks and bravado. She put her hand on his wrist and looked up with limpid eyes and spun him a tale of how her husband, a cruel and petty man who married her for her titles and seized them from her--how she had had to flee to Highever in terror of his wrath, and how she, once a noble lady, had been rendered homeless and destitute. The Antivan became so enraged at her piteous plight that he drew his sword and declared that he would not rest until he had slain the cruel and perfidious Bann himself and shortly thereafter fell asleep. She informed the innkeeper that her bill for the evening would be on him.

That was the nice thing about a port city like Highever—it never wanted for a steady stream of transient, interesting characters. After many weeks of staying at the inn, not a single face was familiar, and she was free to be somebody else.

Another week she was a Chasind exile, driven from her home because she had dared to find love outside the clan. Her lover had been a rich overland trader who plied her with fine gifts—but alas, when she left her clan to be with him he had abandoned her, and now she had nothing but her faithless lover’s presents to live on. She told this story seven times over the course of a week, each time with further embellishments, each time well enough to earn enough of her audience’s sympathy that they might purchase her a meal or another drink.

The first time someone misread her facsimile of friendliness for sexual interest and leaned in to kiss her, it took every scrap of her hard-won self control not to strike him down with lightning on the spot. She managed to only slap the young man across the face instead. It couldn’t have hurt him—she’d grown so used to augmenting her insignificant strength with magic that without it, she felt about as physically imposing as a newborn kitten—but he still drew back in shock. She hissed through her teeth that she was  not available and to get out of her sight before she made him regret it.

Later she sat and nursed a tumbler of brandy and dwelled. That wasn’t strictly true, was it? She wasn’t unavailable at all. And the young man had seemed nice enough. She didn’t particularly regret hitting him, but only because she had already decided that she wasn’t going to regret anything ever again. If she started to regret, even for a moment, she would be lost.

After that she slept with whoever seemed even halfway interested. At first mostly women, because women were familiar—and then only men, because women were familiar. With a woman she could not help but compare. With a man it meant less than nothing, an all-but-mechanical exercise of material forms. Men were easier to please, anyway; more than half the ones she took to bed were delighted that she was paying them any attention at all. She would take them to her room for an hour or less, and send them away after. She rarely let anyone spend the night, and then only ever on accident.

She felt like a teenager again, sleeping with whoever the hell she wanted, just because she could. It felt good to betray Loriel even in this little way, even though Loriel had been the one to tell her to go, even though she had no one to betray anymore.

After all, why not? All this time she had obsessively wondered,  how could it mean nothing?  Well, it was time to stop wondering. It  did mean nothing. Nothing meant anything, and she was free, free, free.

Some of them left payment for her trouble. The first time it happened she had flushed furious red and tried to explain that it wasn’t like that, she hadn’t been performing a  service— and then realized that she would have to be a complete idiot to turn down coin for something she was going to do anyway. So what if they misunderstood? Let them! She’d take their money if they were so desperate to part with it.

After a while, she started negotiating higher rates.

The innkeeper eventually put a stop to it. He informed her, none too politely, that she was free to ply her trade in the brothel, but  not at a respectable establishment like his inn, and if she did not stop at once he would throw her out. So that put an end to that. She went back to selling jewelry.

It hadn’t occurred to her that there was a brothel in Highever, although upon even a brief moment’s thought it became obvious that there had to be. She remembered the Pearl in Denerim. Back then she’d been so eagerly curious to find out what they were like inside, because she’d been so eagerly curious about everything. Loriel had found the whole thing distasteful and at the time had sarcastically asked her if she was looking for work.

Maker, but they could be horrible to each other. The rest of the night she sat and remembered every single time Loriel had been horrible to her and she’d been horrible back.

One night, in a fit of what could only be insanity, she went around to every brothel in the city until she found a working elven woman with pale skin and black hair, and afterward felt so disgusting that she couldn’t get out of bed for a week.

—

“—Amell—”

She jerked up at the mention of her discarded name. She had been slouched at the counter, sipping the last remnants of what probably passed for wine, half-asleep and struggling to stay awake. If she fell asleep the innkeeper would make her go upstairs, and she wasn’t ready for that, yet.

Her heart pounded. Who here knew her name? She looked wildly around at the source of the voice, which she didn’t think she recognized. Her eyes settled on two men she definitely didn’t know. Where they had come from was impossible to say by clothing and accent alone. Fereldans? Free Marchers?

Neither of them were looking at her. She strained to hear their conversation.

“—took up residence at the old estate,” said one.

“Feh,” said the other. “I don’t believe that cockamamie story about a Deep Roads expedition. If you ask me this upstart new Lord Amell got his money the old fashioned way—trickery, lies, or thievery.”

“Or all three.”

“Or all three!”

“Well, perhaps so. Either way I’d rather deal with this new cocksure than the last Lord Amell. Drunken idiot, that one was, bloody impossible to do business with. Kirkwall’s better off without him—assuming he’s really dead.”

“ I hear the last Lord Amell now lives in a hovel in Lowtown.”

“Maybe somebody claiming to be the old Lord Amell, alright. Anyway, even if this new Lord Amell is a lying trickster, you’re right that he can hardly be worse than old Gamlen, whatever’s happened to him.”

She kept listening a while, but the conversation soon turned to that season’s commercial fishing prospects, and they did not discuss Lord Amell again before they headed up to their rooms for the night.

They didn’t mean her, she thought. They were only talking about this Lord Amell, whoever he was. She was so relieved that she had another drink, and then really did fall asleep on the counter, and was subsequently shaken awake and sent to bed by the weary innkeeper.

Only when she was getting into her own bed did it occur to her that her family had lived in Kirkwall, once, and that the name  Lord Amell might have been more than simply a coincidence.

Over the months that followed she heard more talk of Lord Amell, usually from sailors making port out of Kirkwall. They said Lord Amell was well over six feet tall and nearly as wide, that he consorted with smugglers and thieves and Qunari, that he had a pet hawk as his constant companion. They said he was secretly an apostate, and what more locked in a torrid romance with a Rivaini pirate queen—although the accounts varied. Sometimes the torrid romance involved an escaped Tevinter slave or a Dalish blood mage. She disbelieved all these stories at once, and even began to doubt that this Lord Amell even existed. He sounded more like a tall tale or local legend than an actual person.

And even if he was real—he was hardly any business of hers. Resolutely, she went back to the important business of drinking herself to death.

—

Sometimes she did leave the inn. On these occasions she would blearily wander the city with no particular aim in sight. She would go to the docks, to the walls of Castle Cousland, to the markets, anywhere where people were. City guards and thieves and mothers with their children and slouching youths and burly dockworkers, they all streamed around her. If her dark skin and braided hair was cause for a second glance in other parts of Ferelden, not so in the port city of Highever.

This was what it meant to be part of the world. Total anonymity. Total aloneness. Total perfection.

On one of these sojourns she found herself walking past the gates of the alienage. Loriel was from Highever, she suddenly remembered. She’d been born in the alienage here. Were her parents still here?

She laughed to herself. What if she found them?  Do you know where your daughter is?  she would ask them.  Do you know what she’s been up to? Do you even care? She found herself looking intently at every person she saw, looking for older elves with narrow eyes and dark hair, but nobody looked like a decent match.

Highever wasn’t so far from Vigil’s Keep. Loriel could have come here and looked for her parents any time she wanted. But she’d never even cared to try. She’d given up on them, too.

Suddenly she was furious at her all over again

She wondered if her own father knew or cared that she was still alive. If  he was even still alive; the man she remembered had been so sapped of all vitality that it would not surprise her if the loss of yet another daughter destroyed him completely. When she had been a child she had hated him for abandoning her in Kinloch. She’d been so furious at him for so long that she’d entirely forgotten to think of him, burying all memory of him beneath an avalanche of bitter hatred. It was only now occurring to her that her father had loved her.

She wondered where her sisters were now. They hadn’t been close. They fought over toys and food and their father’s attention, hit and pinched and slapped each other, screamed and shouted and ruined dinner. Suddenly she missed them so much it felt like a physical ache, though she had not thought of them in years. She wondered who they had grown up to be.

At least her oldest sister was probably in a Circle now. When she had been discovered a mage, her mother had been so grief-stricken that she begged the Templars for mercy on her knees, right in the city streets—and her a noble lady. It was quite the scandal, and a bigger scandal yet when Revka Amell disappeared to parts unknown soon after. That was all she knew; she remember little of it, and anytime she’d asked for more, her father would look pained and drawn and refuse to speak more on it.

For a long time, anytime her father was less than what she’d wanted, when he was distant or sad or busy and seemed to look through and not at her, her mother had been the imagined Good Parent. Her mother, who always sided with her and let her do what she wanted, who never hit her or ignored her or let her be hurt. She would spend hours in this fantasy, supposing that someday her mother would come and take her away to wherever she’d gone off to, and she would finally have the life she’d always meant to have.

Unlike her father, though, her mother had abandoned her willingly.

She didn’t remember how old she had been when she’d stopped having that fantasy.

Somebody bumped into her; an elven woman balancing a basket of mangos on her head. She realized she’d just been standing blank-faced in the middle of an alienage for several minutes now. Then she noticed all the dirty looks she was attracting from the alienage elves, wondering what some strange shem woman was doing here.

Fuck this, she thought, heading back to the inn. And fuck all this futile wondering about her family. Even if she wanted to find them she would spend a lifetime searching. One way or another, they were lost to her for good.

—

She didn’t generally let her disposable lovers stay in her bed for long. Sleeping next to someone and feeling their warmth disgusted her. That she’d let this one stay had been pure accident; she’d just gotten too drunk, and fallen asleep practically halfway through.

When she woke again to the late-afternoon light seeping into her room, she found that she had been robbed. All her jewelry; that was most of what she owned, all of it valuable. Her traitorous temporary lover would be hours away by now, carrying her rings, her bracelets, her armbands, her necklaces and amulets, even the little decorations she wore in her hair. That was everything she could have hoped to live on. She had less now than she’d even fled the Vigil with.

She sat on the bed with her legs tucked underneath her like a child. She felt like the biggest fool to ever walk the earth. But if she were honest with herself—with how careless she was being—it was a wonder this hadn’t happened earlier.

Laughter bubbled up from her chest and into her throat, until she had to let it out or else choke on it. She put her head in her hands and laughed until she couldn’t breathe, until she gasped for breath and blackness ate at the edges of her vision.

Something glinted on her hand, drawing her attention to it. Her wedding ring. She had grown so used to its presence on her finger, her plainest piece, the one she never removed or swapped out for anything different. That was it. That was all that was left.

Her head throbbed, but she didn’t dare use magic to fix it. She badly wanted a drink, to take the edge off, but she had no money, and there wouldn’t be enough men at the inn to cajole into supplying her until later this evening.

Suddenly she couldn’t stand to sit here. She needed to go outside and feel the sunlight before evening fell—and the markets closed.

The late summer air was heavy like soup. She felt herself floating through the streets as though not under her own power. She was sober, painfully sober, but nothing felt real, anyway. She watched people hurrying to and fro, going about their comfortable lives, totally ignorant of her plight. Totally indifferent to the slow and now sudden dissolution of her entire life.

Having only one possible recourse, she went to the shop of the Tranquil woman who had always given her the best prices for her jewelry. But then she lingered outside the door.

Her wedding ring gleamed dully as she pulled it from her finger. The simple band was worn smooth from her thumb constantly swiping across it; she must have rubbed it a thousand times over the past several months. She hadn’t taken it off since she’d put it on, years ago. Until now.

What a stupid, impulsive thing it had been, the way they’d gotten engaged ( Loriel gilded in moonlight, the most beautiful woman in the world—)  What a stupid excuse of a ceremony their wedding had been (Loriel breathlessly promising—) What a joke it had been. They'd vaguely planned on a real ceremony someday, and now that day would never come. A trivial pathetic excuse of a wedding, for a trivial pathetic excuse of a relationship, one built on nothing but mutual parasitism, on nothing but fear, on nothing. What a stupid, pointless, empty  (Loriel flushed and laughing, being spun around wildly as they danced, happy—) thing it had been. It made her sick with rage to think of it.

She went inside the shop and sold the ring.

—

The sun was setting by the time she left the shop, her hand bare, her pocket heavy with a little purse of coins. The markets were already closing; there wasn’t really anything left for her to do except go back to the inn.

Except she knew that if she did that, she’d get herself a drink. And because she’d only woken up a few hours ago, she’d keep getting herself drinks. And by the next day she might easily burn through a significant portion of the last few coins she had to her name.

So instead she wandered the city. As long as she kept putting one foot in front of the other—she would be alright.

Only she wouldn’t be. She had nothing to live on, no skills to peddle. Nobody was hiring mages, nor castle administrators. And who would want a willowy female soldier who needed magic to wield a blade at all effectively? She didn't know how to weave or spin or farm or smith; outside the walls she had ensconced herself in, she was useless.

What was she going to do?  What was she going to do?

The sun had fully set by now. Her feet hurt; the shoes she’d bought to replace her ruined pair were cheap and unlikely to last long. Once she’d walked across all of Ferelden, but she’d had good leather boots to do it in. Those were boots that would have lasted a lifetime, and they were back at Vigil's Keep. She wouldn’t be seeing those again.

She could not stop looking at her left hand, bare for the first time in years. It felt perversely light without her. ( Nothing. It had meant nothing .)

A red lantern glowed at the end of the street, and she realized where she was—the brothel. It was called the Lady’s Grace, an awfully pretty name for a place with such sticky floors. After the one time she’d paid it a visit, she had avoided this part of town, acid shame in the pit of her stomach anytime she strayed too near.

But now the glowing red light was as a lighthouse to a storm-tossed ship. There! She could go there—and beg for a place. Girls in these places were well-provided for—food, shelter, enough money to keep drinking. The work would be easy—it was just  sex.  And unlike the others, if she caught something, or fell pregnant, that was an easy fix. She had abandoned magic, but magic wasn’t something you could forget—she would keep it secret, use it only when necessary. Yes, she could do that.

Eagerly, she reached for the handle of the front door, bathed in the red light—and hesitated.

Was she really going to do this?

She could easily imagine it. She would disappear into the Lady’s Grace, and come out only rarely if at all. There she would be comfortable as she wiled away the years, and slowly in the perfumes and the pillows, she would forget. Someday she would be old, and still she would stay, be the madame. She’d run a castle, once, an army. How hard could a brothel be? It wouldn’t be so bad a life. At least she’d have a more comfortable bed.

But still she hesitated.

She looked at her bare hand again.

Yvanne Amell had been somebody’s wife, so it had been intolerably painful for her to be Yvanne Amell. Better by an ale-soaked gutter rat than be Yvanne Amell. But now Yvanne Amell wasn’t anybody’s wife. The only proof that she’d ever been anybody's wife was gone now.

Perhaps it was time to start being Yvanne Amell again.

She thought of all these rumors she had heard of Lord Amell of Kirkwall. If this Lord Amell was real...if he wasn’t a pretender...he might well be her cousin. Her father, her mother, her sisters, all of them were beyond her reach. Not so her maybe-cousin.

Drawing back from the brothel door, she headed to the docks. Her fingers closed around her last few coins. Would it be enough for passage? Perhaps not—perhaps she would have to beg, or steal, but either way, her mind was made up.

Yvanne would make for Kirkwall.

[bluerosesburnblue]

MMMMMMMMmmmmmmm I’ve been rewatching a playthrough of Pokemon Sun and one of Ultra Sun back-to-back (just to try and gather my thoughts about what went wrong with Sword and Shield’s writing) and hitting the end of Ula’ula Island and the mini-arc after that just made me mad again about how the Ultra versions just completely butchered the emotional core of the original Sun and Moon’s plot and also how poorly the Ultra Recon Squad were implemented (which sucks because I like all of the URS members as characters, but the plot does them no justice)

Edited with two points that I forgot to include last night

So, alright. In the original Sun and Moon you have our lovely villain, Lusamine. She’s an awful human being. She acts sweet, but the second you don’t conform to her standards of beauty and perfection, you’re worth nothing more than utter disgust. Those standards? How willing you are to conform to her control and let her decide everything

Her goal? Open up an Ultra Wormhole and go to the world populated by the Ultra Beast Nihilego, the subject of her affections. This is worth enough to her that she’s willing to torture and kill an innocent baby Pokemon to do it. A Pokemon that her own daughter has bonded with, while said daughter screams at her to stop. But because Lillie stole that Pokemon in the first place and ran away, defying Lusamine’s control, then she’s ugly and not worth listening to

Everything makes sense and is treated with appropriate tone. Lusamine doesn’t care about getting back to her original world, so Cosmog dying while she summons a wormhole? Way more wormholes opening up than she intends? Not her problem.

The player and Lillie having to gather information on other ways to traverse worlds by summoning the Legendary Pokemon? Lillie’s primarily doing it for her own sense of closure. She’s choosing to be a bigger person than her mother by trying to save her from being stranded in another universe, but she also needs to air her grievances for everything her mother’s done to hurt her. And there’s also the matter of Guzma, who went in with Lusamine out of a manipulated sense of loyalty. While he’s a troublemaker and a jackass, he doesn’t deserve to be trapped in a dimension with hell jellyfish for the rest of his existence. So Team Skull begging you to save him? Warranted

And the postgame reveals that Nihilego venom make people act out their natural desires uninhibited in an effort to protect their species. They’re parasites. Lusamine was always a controlling, beauty-obsessed perfectionist (though these traits may not have started manifesting until she lost her husband to a wormhole), but her obsession with interdimensional jellyfish and the lengths she was willing to go for them was induced. The ending makes it obvious that she doesn’t think she was wrong, but she may be able to be rehabilitated

The game never tries to force Lillie or Gladion to forgive their mother for the abuse they suffered at her hands. Gladion pointedly never calls her “mother,” always “Lusamine” or “the president” and he still doesn’t later on. Lillie wants to rehabilitate her mother, but after the whole scene where she calls Lusamine out on her bullshit it comes across more as Lillie trying to be a good person by helping an obviously sick person and it still leaves open the possibility that if the rehab fails, Lillie may just leave. No matter what, their family will never go back to what it was. It can’t, because they’re all different people. But Gladion and Lillie now have Hau, Hala, the Player, Kukui, and Burnet as family to fall back on. People who care about them for who they are, unconditionally

And then...

There’s Ultra Sun and Ultra Moon.

And I was honestly enjoying watching that playthrough up until the Aether arc hit. It was interesting to see how the trials were changed up and weigh the two versions against each other. I liked seeing the added dialogue for my boy Hau that really fleshed out his character. But the Aether arc...

So, alright. We have our lovely villain, Lusamine. She’s an awful human being. She acts sweet, but the second you don’t conform to her standards of beauty and perfection, you’re worth nothing more than utter disgust. Those standards? How willing you are to conform to her control and let her decide everything

Heard this before, haven’t we?

Except now the Nihilego venom is gone from the equation. Lusamine, in no uncertain terms, still tells Lillie that she has no children, “certainly not any wretched children who would run off and reject my love!” And then mocks her own daughter for wanting to save Cosmog while stating that she’s too worthless to even hang around the player character

And the game plays it off like she’s still a good person because her motivations have changed from “I wanna live with the toxic space jellyfish” to “yo if a light-eating inderdimensional monster destroys the world then it’ll fuck up my collection of cryogenically frozen Pokemon so I’m gonna kill it”

No, seriously. Lusamine’s now a good person because her daughter will be tangentially saved due to her trying to protect things she actually values

All plausible deniability she had is gone because there is no Nihilego venom in this version. Lusamine really is just that abusive and there’s no real possibility that she might’ve just had bad tendencies that she was keeping in check that got overridden by venom. She’s an abusive mother and there’s no getting around it. She still forced Lillie to dress like a Nihilego, except this time it was entirely about the control and not because she was being influenced by a glass parasite. Gladion still felt the need to run away with Type: Null because she was going too far, Lillie still felt the need to run away with Cosmog for the same reasons

The scene in the cryo-room just pisses me off so, SO much. Gladion calling her “mother” and begging her to let him take her place? And yet he still calls her selfish and still has his line about how “she’s real nice... as long as you mean nothing to her,” but also I guess loves her and wanted to protect her this whole time and that’s why he left? Fucking what? And it’s not like she didn’t show herself to be just as abusive as in Sun and Moon where he never forgave her! They’re forcing Gladion to excuse her abuse because she missed their dad I guess

Even if she calls them “good kids” in the very next scene, it still comes off of the heels of her verbally abusing her timid daughter for trying to stand up for herself! It just comes across like they’re only “good kids” because she expects them to go back to how they were before they left. She doesn’t care about who they’ve become at all

EDIT: And I forgot to bring up how stupid the thing with Cosmog is in that scene! Last time we got the impression that Nebby nearly died and was forced to evolve because Lusamine overtaxed them and forced them to open up way too many wormholes, because as long as she had one that went to the world of the Nihilego, she didn’t care what happened to the Pokemon world. Now she opens up one to a specific place... but still feels the need to torture Nebby to do it? And despite opening way less wormholes, Nebby’s still overtaxed and evolves? And Lusamine doesn’t bring Nebby with her, why??? Before, she didn’t care if she came back, but this time her goal is “beat Necrozma and come back to my collection.” So why does she jump through the wormhole with no way to get back? After intentionally screwing over the baby Pokemon that she would have needed to get back home???

And that’s not even the complete... just... dumbassery of the “we have to track Lusamine down” stuff. Because now instead of going to a world inhabited by only parasitic jellyfish and opening extra wormholes in the process, she and Guzma open one wormhole and go to a highly populated interdimensional city to piss off the local god, intentionally. And at that point, it’s less of a matter of saving them and more of a matter of cleaning up their mess

So you’d think the Ultra Recon Squad, interdimensional travelers who came to Alola because a hungry, furious legendary being was about to escape its prison and they didn’t have a way to stop it, would want us to get down to their homeworld as fast as possible to stop the local god from getting pissed off by two overconfident dumbasses. And what do they do?

“Yeah, if you play a flute you can summon a legendary Pokemon. We rode one here. Should be fine. What, no, we won’t help you look for the flutes.” But also, ten minutes later, “Stop! It’s our job to save our world, not yours! Lusamine betrayed us how can we ever trust you to help???”

The writing can’t keep straight throughout the game whether they just want to find strong trainers to take out their local deity before it goes on a cross-dimensional rampage or if they want to train themselves to be strong enough to take on the local god. But beyond that!

What’s the point of going through all this trouble to summon the legendary Pokemon when the URS already befriended the opposite version legendary and can just call it whenever? Especially since they do just that when Necrozma immediately absorbs the one you just awakened

No, seriously? What? We lose Nebby, who we have an emotional attachment to, immediately and have to rely on this other legendary that’s just... here??? I guess????????

One of the only things we know about the world of Ultra Megalopolis is that they don’t do the Pokemon thing, they just compensate for everything with extremely advanced technology! So why the fuck are they pals with a legendary Pokemon? Especially one that has lore in Alola, but not in Ultra Megalopolis?

And how the fuck do they know about the Alolan legend of summoning the legendary Pokemon, which they would never need to research because they have one already?

Literally why does Necrozma open like ten extra wormholes when it shows up. There’s no reason other than to have the extended “fighting Ultra Beasts” cutscene that no longer works because the Ultra Beasts aren’t important anymore now that they cut their postgame story out. And I know they go “Ah, Necrozma pulled in the villains from other universes! That’s why Rainbow Rocket...” Rainbow Rocket was just shallow pandering with no substance and wasn’t particularly fun to play. It wasn’t worth making the main plot nonsensical to have it in there. I would’ve much rather had a rewritten International Police postgame that includes the Ultra Recon Squad and has you traveling to the new Ultra Space areas to either return them to their natural habitats or just learn more about them to take care of them

EDIT: And why does Lusamine need Nebby at all, when the Ultra Recon Squad just had a legendary that they were gonna bring the strongest trainers to Ultra Megalopolis with? What makes her think they wouldn’t take her, their closest ally at the time? In the original, Nebby was the only way to get to other worlds. But they’re not in this version, so why does she go and hunt Nebby down instead of working with the URS or trying to steal their fully evolved world-hopping beast?

The whole climax is just tied together by utter nonsense. And it’s such a shame because I legitimately love the concept of the URS and Ultra Megalopolis and the general personalities of the four characters in it. It’s such a wasted opportunity because I guess they felt obligated to hit the same basic plot beats? Even at the detriment of their new characters?

And it’s such an easy fix, too. Just have the two URS members in the game be stranded on Alola. Their technology for dimension-hopping was experimental and based on their studies of Necrozma, who can hop worlds and who they have easy access to. But the inaugural trial is rushed because Necrozma’s looking to break free. Two members stay behind to monitor, two end up stranded in Alola with broken tech desperately looking for a way to get home in time to stop Necrozma

And that’s how they end up partnered with Aether, who have the most advanced tech in the region. It’s something they trust and understand, and Aether has the resources to help and a president who seems very interested in ways to get to other worlds. She’s even performing experiments already!

Unbeknownst to them, though, Lusamine’s only looking for ways to get to Nihilego as she still came into contact with their neurotoxin during experiments trying to find Mohn. Nebby’s kidnapped, several wormholes opened, Lusamine jumps into the Ultra Deep Sea to be with the Nihilego. Except this time, a wormhole opens up to Ultra Megalopolis where Necrozma is. It’s not long enough for Necrozma to get through, but long enough that it sees the light of Alola and knows exactly where to go when it breaks free...

You awaken Nebby and save Lusamine as in vanilla Sun and Moon. Then Necrozma breaks free, chases Nebby’s light through Ultra Space back to Alola, steals the light, bam. Back to where Ultra Sun and Ultra Moon kick off the climax. Maybe add in a section where you have to get the Dimensional Research Lab and Aether to work together to fix the Recon Squad’s dimension-hopping gear to break up the pacing. Save Ultra Megalopolis and Nebby. Now you’ve got something a little closer to Platinum’s additions to Diamond and Pearl instead of the butchering we actually got, complete with two climactic moments. One for Lillie, one for protag

Everything about and surrounding Necrozma’s addition was just so sloppily done, which is such a shame with how good both the base game and the ideas for expansion were

Also, move Mina’s trial and put Hapu’s back in its spot. I like having a trial for Mina, but why place two trials after the Necrozma climax? We just beat a god and you expect me to do trials? The original Sun and Moon understood that at that point you’re at the falling action of the story, may as well keep it succinct and only have it be the Pokemon League. And also, the Dragon trial is supposed to be this big, ancient final trial. Oldest of them all, the final task before being allowed to the Altar, Alola’s most sacred point. But now we have another trial and a Grand Trial after it?

Just have Mina’s trial as soon as you hit Poni Island and have the justification be that her trial takes you to the sacred sites of Alola where you can gather info on the legendary Pokemon. Bam. Lore opportunity. And if her trial’s also necessary for getting into the Dragon trial in a “you must prove your worth to the captains in a gauntlet for permission to enter the sacred final trial site” way, then even better. And Necrozma likes Z-Crystals, so you’d have even more stockpiled, further justifying its interest in you

And with Hapu’s Grand Trial back where it was, Lillie can have her Exeggutor Island fun. Which she could’ve had anyway and seriously why did you replace her with a nameless NPC in USUM?

I’ve had way too long to think about all of the ways I’d fix USUM’s story. And the sad thing is, if the story was better it’d be my favorite Pokemon game because the gameplay additions, new locations, and the fact that the game has sidequests make it near perfect otherwise and are the reason I always come back to Ultra Sun over Sun. But the abysmal climax to the story just doesn’t offer any incentive to replay the game at all