#listen. it just feels WRONG to mind trick people in combat.

[americankimchi]

jedi survivor is so fucking good. except when it crashes. or when i try the force tear challenges (hatred is not the jedi way but whoever crafted the smuggler's tunnels force tear makes a damn good argument for the dark side). i'm playing on jedi master difficulty rn and having an ABSOLUTE blast.

[hanazuma-inactive]

defrost (nsfw) kaeya x top!male reader

pronouns: he/him

warnings: ice play!! slight degradation, orgasm denial/ edging, top male reader, bottom kaeya

a/n: this was edited by @kamihara, she really outdone herself in this one, professional kaeya simp lol

_____

“to think such an honourable knight such as you, the cavalry captain of mondstat, is now begging to cum. how shameful of you,” you let out a low chuckle as a provocative smile broke out on your lips, “i wonder what citizens would say if they saw their beloved and oh so admirable kaeya in this position?”

as a captain of the ordo favonius, you were a bright figure to the people of mondstat. a person who aided in saving the city from destruction, one of the heroes that defeated storm terror. of course, other knights had nothing but respect for you as your skill and talent was nothing short of impressive. many looked at you with a high regard due to your strength and position, this meant that many were intimidated by your presence and therefore fear approaching you.

however, there was one person who disregarded this and stuck by you anyways, kaeya alberich, the cavalry captain. out of everyone in the knights of favonius, you were the closest with kaeya. you enjoyed his company a lot, he was an interesting person who knew how to keep a conversation going, and while you're with him you could never find yourself feeling bored. he was as charming as he was cunning.

kaeya found himself enjoying your company too. the two of you have done lots of things together. going on missions, getting away with “knighty” duty, babysitting klee, and drinking at angels share. you know, all the fun things in life.

kaeya was a secretive person, and while you were curious about him, you respected his boundaries. perhaps this was the reason why he drew you in, besides his blaringly good looks of course.

there was no doubt that the man was attractive from head to toe. his silky navy blue hair fell down his shoulder with grace, his fringe complemented his smooth, flawless sepia toned face. his periwinkle eye held the sheen of a crystal, glistening as his long eyelashes framed it with poise. the diamond shaped pupils his eyes possessed could leave you in a trance forever. his open white shirt left his cleavage on display, contrasted with the black corset around his slim, slim waist. his slender legs brought him around with confidence and charisma.additionally, the intricate accessories he wore suited his personality well. all in all, kaeya was a pretty little thing.

all of this lead up to you harbouring romantic feelings for the cavalry caption. how could you not feel anything? he was perfect in every way.

the sound of kaeya’s voice snapped you out of your thinking. “y/n, any missions today?”

“nothing for you i don’t think, i gotta help jean with the paperworks though.” you sighed at the thought of a mountain of paperwork.

“great, well i’m off then you have fun doing whatever.” kaeya smirked at you, poking fun at your dread.

he started to turn around and walk off but you had other plans.

“wait. kaeya-” you speak quickly.

“hm?” he hummed out.

“angels share? 9pm?”

a quizzical look washed over his face before he masked it with one of his cunning smiles.

“alright.”

little did kaeya know you had more in mind than just drinking with him tonight. today would be the day when you finally told him about your little crush on him.

night quickly arrived after a day of working with jean. you were pretty exhausted but still excited about what's about to happen later tonight. when you entered the bar, Kaeya was already waiting for you at the counter talking with the bartender, charles.

“ah, i see mr.l/n is here too. Your usual today as well sir?”

“yah that’d be nice, thanks charles.” you said as you took a seat next to kaeya

“you got it.” charles said as he left to go get your drink.

angel's share was the place you and kaeya loved the most. the kind of noisy background with people chatting. cyrus and jack talking about their gains for today, six-fingered jose still playing his lyre, the song was getting a little old but you didn’t mind, in fact if he changed the song you probably wouldn’t be used to it.

“so, what’s the special occasion for today? you usually don’t invite me to drink on weekdays.” kaeya said while swirling his drink and glancing over at you.

kaeya’s eyes always amazed you. you didn’t know the name of the grey-ish color but you could gaze into them forever. his smooth skin glowed under the dim lighting in the bar. you loved everything about the man, his dark blue hair, his perfectly shaped body, and the fact that you could see a little bit of his clothing. what kaeya said on the first day when you guys met was true, you did feel something for him.

“hm? can i not invite fellow knights to share a drink once in while without a special occasion.”

“well, not wrong there but…you seem like you have ulterior motives for tonight from the way you’re dressing.” kaeya said, smirking at you.

it was true, you purposely chose one of your best outfits today for kaeya, you wanted to impress the man not only from your combat skills, but also your looks. there was no secret you could hide from kaeya. he knew you too well and he always looked right through you. it could have just been kaeya’s observant nature but you like to hope it was something more than that.

“you’re right there, you really do know me too well, maybe i need to start hiding things from you a little huh?”

“you can try but i highly doubt it’ll work in your favour, mr.honorary knight.”

both of you looked at each other with a slight smirk as charles arrived with your drink. after drinking for a good while you could tell kaeya was getting a little tipsy. his movements were unstable, he shaked a little while walking and his eyes started to become hazy. what better time than right now to reveal your true plans for tonight, you were gonna fuck the shit out of the beautiful man. you wanted to hear him scream your name in pleasure as you break him, over and over again.

“why don’t we go somewhere else? y’know, somewhere more, quiet” you suggested while scooting closer to kaeya.

“i wouldn’t mind that.”

as soon as you heard those words you immediately got up and left with kaeya. your plan was going perfectly and the best part is about to come soon. kaeya wasn’t stupid, he was an adult afterall and he knew what you were trying to do. dressing up all sexy like that, getting drinks, going somewhere more “private”, what else could it have been.

the two of you arrived in your house and headed straight for your bedroom. kaeya has been to your house many times for many reasons and he knew where everything was so he didn’t trip or fall.

you placed a light kiss on kaeya’s lips while he laid on your bed.

“wait here~ i’ll be right back.”

this was where things would get, interesting

you opened your fridge to grab a small wooden bowl. the content inside was covered by a small white cloth. after grabbing that you went to grab some rope from a drawer you hid them in because you didn’t know what to say if someone saw those items in your house.

after bringing the items back you put them on the side and pushed kaeya down.

“what’re those?” he asked

(its a surprise tool that’ll help us later.)

“don’t worry about it sweetheart, just lay back and let me do the work alright?”

you brought a blush to kaeya’s face with your flirty words as he gave you a small nod, signalling you consent and approval. you kept invading kaeya’s mouth over and over again, you’re tongue so skillful kaeya was sure this definitely wasn’t your first time. the kisses ended after a while leaving both of you panting and a half an erection in your pants. wanting more, you began to take off kaeya’s uniform. his skin is so beautiful, you could also see his well defined body, just the perfect amount, not too buff, not too skinny. you licked your lips a little bit and looked up at kaeya with a smirk. when you put your mouth onto kaeya’s pink nipples, he squealed a little out of surprise but soft moans soon began to escape from his mouth.

“a-ah~ didn’t know you had this in you, honorary knight.”

“oh i know a lot more tricks that can make you feel good~” you teased.

as you continued to suck on kaeya’s smooth skin, you decided to spice things up a little bit. kaeya yelped as he felt a slight pain around his nipples. you remove your mouth to see a bite mark around it.

“to mark you as mine~”

“tch, you cocky little bastard.”

seeing the tent building up in kaeya’s pants, you decided to take them off and grant it some release. after you took off kaeya’s jeans you saw a small stain at the top of his boxers, showing that he felt good earlier.

“alright... this is where the fun part begins.” you said as you grabbed the ropes you initially put on the floor.

“restraining me? go ahead, let’s see if the honorary knight is all talk or he actually has something up his sleeve.” kaeya taunted

not liking his attitude, you forcefully tied kaeya’s hands behind his back and pushed him to the end of the bed facing you with nothing on but his boxers. now, the mighty kaeya alberich, is at your mercy.

“alright, we can do this in two ways. one, you listen to me, second, i don’t think you’ll like what’ll happen,”

kaeya raised his head a little and looked you dead in the eyes.

“i choose the second option”

you knew kaeya was the bratty type and it’ll only add to the fun to tame him. after hearing his choice you pushed kaeya back to where he was before and uncovered the bowl you had prepared earlier on the side. the bow was filled with medium sized ice cubes and it was till now that kaeya finally realized what you were trying to do.

“ice cubes huh? bring it on.”

“you asked for it~”

you grabbed one of the ice cubes and started to rub it on kaeya’s pecs, making circular motions and slowing moving towards the center where his nipples are.

“f-fuck that’s cold.”

you saw kaeya’s cock twitch a little when you first reached his nipples and you knew he was feeling good. moving on with your plan, you rested the ice cube on kaeya’s nipples and lifted his boxers where his cock is still covered but his asshole is exposed to you. right after that, you grabbed the lube that has been sitting in your nightstand and spread them on your fingers. without mercy you put 2 fingers into kaeya, trying to find his pleasure spot. sooner or later when kaeya started to let out tiny moans you knew you hit your target.

“feels good huh baby boy~”

“y-yah, and so what o-oh fuck~”

kaeya was sure feeling it, to a point where he started stuttering.

the constant teasing got kaeya close to his limit. he couldn’t hold it any longer. but you’re not gonna let him cum that easy are you? of course not, he needed to be punished for what he did earlier.

“a-ah y/n i’m gonna cum i’m gonna cum so hard- wait why'd you s-stop?” kaeya asked

“you decided to be a brat earlier didn’t you~? bad boys get punishment.” you said with a smirk on your face.

kaeya stayed silent, not a word coming out of his mouth, head hung low feeling embarrassed.

“to think such an honourable knight such as you, the cavalry captain of mondstat, is now begging to cum. how shameful of you,” you let out a low chuckle as a provocative smile broke out on your lips, “i wonder what citizens would say if they saw their beloved and oh so admirable kaeya in this position?”

“maybe~ if you begged a little i might reconsider, don’t you think so, pretty boy?”

kaeya finally lost his composure at this point, all he wanted was to cum from your touch.

“fine... i don’t care anymore.” kaeya growled.

“p-please y/n.” kaeya looked up at you with pleading eyes. “i want to c-cum, i want to cum so bad. i should’ve been a good boy from the beginning… i promise i’ll be obedient from now on, j-just please, let me cum…” kaeya begged

“that’s what i thought.”

satisfied with kaeya’s begging, you decided to grant him his release. you added another ice cube to the other side of kaeya’s chest while stroking his dick through his boxers. of course you didn’t forget to keep teasing kaeya’s prostate while you were at it. all these different stimulations made kaeya lose his mind. the male came through his boxers all over the place. semen spilled on his own stomach and chest followed with moans so loud the entire mondstat could hear him.

after he settled himself down a little, kaeya waited for you to untie him. you exchanged a kiss with him while you were doing so, smiling at each other thinking about what just happened. neither of you cared about the mess that you made because you guys were tired. listening to the birds chirp, you fell asleep with the dark blue haired male on your bed.

the two of you woke up in the afternoon to the noises of mondstat. you woke up a little before kaeya and from your point of view he was literally a sleeping beauty. you stroked his hair a little bit, causing him to wake up.

"y/n…good morning handsome."

"right back at you."

both of you giggled a little while holding hands.

"hey kaeya?"

"yes y/n."

"i've been meaning to get this off my chest and i don't think there will be a better time to say it than now."

"well go ahead, i'm all ears."

"you were the only one that ever stuck with me in the knights, everyone was afraid of me due to my strength except for you. you listened to me, you talked to me, and if it weren't for you i probably would've quit the job at the knights already." you took a deep breath and let out the words kaeya were waiting for.

"kaeya alberich... will you he my boyfriend?"

kaeya gave you a small scoff as a reaction and a light kiss to your lips.

"what reason do i have to refuse such a perfect man?."

[nakedbibi333]

hi! im kind of new to law of assumption and old to law of attraction. law of assumption is not a hard concept but im a bit confused. i find myself reacting to the 3D too much and like i find it hard to persist? what do i do to make persisting easier? i think it’s because i don’t know much about what im getting into?? all i know is affirm and persist and etc. i hear things like time is an illusion, the 3D is an illusion, circumstances don’t matter, we are all gods of our reality. but WHERES the proof?? i can’t blindly follow people’s success stories because im not them and if we are truly the gods of our realities, doesn’t that mean someone else can manifest failure in mine? like i want to use law of assumption and i want to believe to get what I want fast and easily BUT i want to know how it works and that im not following a delusion to make myself feel better and in the end, I am just left with disappointment and failed attempts at manifesting that left me with the consequences of my actions. ive been in the community for almost 2 years and i don’t think ive ever gotten results. i am not usually agitated but it’s exhausting. i affirm and persist and nothing shows up and im worried im doing it all wrong so i ask and now I’m even affirming wrong?? I know manifestation is supposed to be easy and not feel like a chore but how can it not when everything I desire is of so much importance to me. I can even dm you, just please help me so I can actually manifest what I want. I’ve done self concept but I keep breaking. I don’t even know what affirmations to use to combat my limiting beliefs. Tbh I’m tired. I feel like if someone explained to me how this works and how to do it with no mistakes and how to keep faith in the unseen, I could actually get what I want. I keep failing and failing because I affirm and persist but I affirm wrong or I have a limiting belief that hasn’t been uncovered yet. I’m so exhausted and I just want to get what I want. I just feel like if someone told me how it works and exactly what to do, I wouldn’t be so confused and find it hard to persist

Hi! Okay, so since this is a very long post, I will try to answer each of your questions/concerns in the order you mention them.

So about persisting, I can understand how it seems a bit complicated. You persist when, after a certain period of time, you still don't see movement of your desires manifesting OR if you see the OPPOSITE of your desires manifest. Oftentimes, when you finally open up your mind to the idea that your mind creates your reality, then some past doubts and fears can manifest as well. Your mind will often try to manifest opposite things in order to make you feel like you are doing something wrong, which is why so many loa teachers say to persist. It can be very difficult for people to persist, which is why so many people feel like they can't manifest, or that manifestation isn't real, because their 3D reality has too much weight in their lives, so they take it as truth and end up giving up on their desires manifesting. It's important to begin to believe that your 3D reality is extremely malleable and is only a reflection of your inner reality. You need to take the power away from the 3D and give it to yourself and your ability to create exactly what you want.

Then you ask about proof of manifestation. It is very true and understandable that other people's success stories are not enough for many people because you want to be able to trust the information that you are going to be getting into. Personally, before getting into manifestation, I already had my fair share of unexplainable success stories in my life, so it just seemed like an answer to the questions I've had all my life. Even with these success stories and experiences, when I first got into manifestation, I still would doubt myself by wondering if it was simply a coincidence these things happened, or worse, that I was becoming delusional. I want to tell you that every single person who is now into manifestation has gone through this feeling. We all worry that we are just doing "wishful thinking" and being delusional because the world we have grown up in has always been so practical. It's not easy to believe in something that seems so impossible without any previous personal experience. So, the only advice I can give you for this is to try to manifest extremely small things to build your faith over time, such as seeing a yellow butterfly, getting your favorite food, or seeing some sort of sign, so that you would know that what we are talking about is actually the truth. Also, there are so many documents that go more in-depth on how our minds create our reality, including CIA documents and books about the science of manifestation, such as books by Joe Dispenza, and books about the subconscious mind, such as books by Joseph Murphy, and many many more. Since the only way, you will really believe in manifestation is by having your own experiences, then manifesting small easy things is probably the best route.

Then, you mention how you're worried about "someone manifesting failure into your reality." My view on this is that you are the only person who can affect your life and nothing can happen to you that you don't specifically manifest into your reality (whether it be consciously or unconsciously). Everyone can manifest, yes. Everyone has control over their reality. You can even manifest people acting in certain ways towards you. But that's in your experience specifically. If we are talking about quantum physics, time is not linear, technically all possibilities of all time, ever, exists right now. We also shift through different realities at every moment depending on our mindset, beliefs, and decisions. So, if someone manifests something in their life that would affect "you" but does not align with your thoughts and beliefs, then it won't show up in your reality. You have control over your own reality, nothing comes into your life without you allowing it, so that's a very empowering thought, in my opinion. I really suggest that you affirm this so that you don't have to worry about others manifesting negativity over your life because you would never personally decide to manifest it into your own life.

I also want to talk about how you worry about affirming wrong or simply manifesting wrong. It's Important to note that these beliefs can also negatively affect your manifestation because that is not you truly living in the end. If you were living in the end, you would know that simply deciding that you want this to happen, means that it will happen and that it has to happen. You never need to doubt your manifesting process because your subconscious mind is so powerful and it is so easy to make it do things for you! Just like what @divineangelbee says, you can COMMAND your subconscious mind and it will listen and give you exactly what you want. You don't have to visualize or affirm or do anything. Simply tell your subconscious exactly what you want it to do and trust that it listens! I really think that the reason that you have not been having too much success is because of this, that you are constantly doubting your methods which keeps you from truly living in the end.

Then, about limiting beliefs. It can be beneficial to people to be aware of their limiting beliefs. However, there has been such an intense focus on limiting beliefs in the loa community (mostly on youtube) that I see so much. Coaches keep you focused on the problem of limiting beliefs so much that they don't actually help you move on from them. Personally, I found that whenever I focused on my limiting beliefs, it was like living in the old story. (if you don't get this reference, I seriously suggest you read or listen to Neville Goddard's lectures in which he talks about the law of assumption. They are life-changing). Focusing on limiting beliefs keeps you stuck in that story you are telling yourself about your life. It keeps you from overcoming them and becoming limitless. It helps me to affirm that my limiting beliefs no longer have the power to hold me back. I don't have any more limiting beliefs because I manifested not having them anymore. Manifestation works in many different ways, and a lot of people don't realize that you can simply manifest your desired mindset as well. I suggest trying this!

So, to make this as clear as possible, I will tell you how I personally manifest (disclaimer: people manifest differently, many different things work for different people, I am not saying this is the only or best way to manifest, but this is just what works for me).

First, I get my idea of what I want to manifest. Usually, I want to manifest multiple things at a time, there really is no limit.

Then, I will decide what will help me "feel it real" and "live in the end." This can include techniques, but I don't use techniques every time. I don't like to visualize because I am personally a maladaptive daydreamer, so visualizing makes me feel like I am daydreaming, which keeps me from really feeling like it's really happening. (But, if it works for you, by all means, go for it) I may print out a picture if it's a physical item in order to trick my brain into having something physical that represents this or adding it to a Pinterest vision board (I am a very visual person, so it always works for me). I also like to make a list of what I want just to keep it in a place that I can go back to and mark off in the future, telling my brain that this is a goal I need to achieve (I find that my brain loves to check things off of my goals, it makes my subconscious mind already start working towards the goal). But most of the work goes into my mindset. I don't affirm a lot because I feel like it becomes a chore if I have to recite affirmations all day every day. I may put up affirmations on my chalkboard or put them on my computer, but I don't make it a habit to really say them at specific times, etc. I really focus on making myself feel deserving of getting my manifestation and I also live in the end. Living in the end is where you feel confident that your desire is already yours. If it helps, which it does for me, I like to believe that I have it already in the "quantum field," or the 5D, or however you believe in it. It is not about being delusional and pretending like you have it, no, it's about feeling trusting in your own power to make this happen for you and it will come, no matter what.

After that, I "drop it." I don't forget about it or stop desiring it, that's not what letting go means. It means that I know that I don't need to do anything or force anything to happen because my subconscious, or the universe, will bring this to me and I don't need to worry about anything related to my desire. I also self-regulate my emotions by meditating, focusing on the things that make me happy, and reminding myself of how powerful and capable I am.

Then, eventually, it manifests. Or, if it doesn't come in the timeframe I wanted it to, or if something that would oppose my desire pops up, I focus on my own self-concept, making sure I genuinely feel deserving of and that I can get what I want, and I persist in that feeling that my desire is still mine. No matter if I got rejected, no matter if they told me I couldn't get the job, no matter if it looks like it won't happen. I still persist. and then it comes.

Finally, I want to mention that I am only here to give advice and I can't make anything physically happen for you. To see actual movement in your reality, you need to be willing to go through failures in order to find out what works for you. I have had manifestations fail, I have had MANY manifestations fail. It's not always a perfect process. I don't charge money, my identity is not on this page, I am not here to be a famous coach or to act like I know any better than anyone else. I am just trying to help you guys reach the point that you deserve to get to in your life. But I can only do so much. I really hope this helps.

[honeypiehotchner]

Stranger. (Loki x Fem!Reader) — one shot

Welcome to my first ever Loki one shot! I blame tiktok for this one, and full credit for this idea goes to @/irislaufeyson on there (or she’s the first one I saw do this). I listened to “Still Don’t Know My Name” by Labrinth while writing! (It’s also used in the tiktoks so that’s why lol)

Summary: You loved Loki. But you needed to forget him. (aka Thor knows a special trick used only on Asgard where saying “Stranger” to someone erases all memories of them from your mind.)

Warnings: This is straight up angst. No happy ending. So sorry. (Also a warning for this having no set place in any timeline lol I wasn’t focused on that so just run with it)

When you first met Loki, you were annoyed. You hated him. You hated his smirk, his eyes, his teeth when he smiled, his tongue when it swiped over his bottom lip, and worst of all — you hated the reactions he got out of you.

You were well aware that’s all he wanted. A reaction. And despite your better efforts, your body gave it to him.

Eventually, you grew used to him. You had no choice. With him at the Tower being an “honorary” Avenger of sorts, you were stuck with him.

It started slow. The snide remarks, your rolling eyes, your grin when you’d effectively bring a god to his knees in hand-on-hand combat.

But then it went fast. The snide remarks turned flirty. You no longer rolled your eyes, but instead gave him looks. When you’d put him on the ground during training, you’d straddle his hips, and he’d sometimes flip you over, pinning your wrists at the side of your head.

Everyone would yell at you to get a room — well, Natasha would. Steve, Bucky, Sam, basically everyone else disapproved, including Thor. But Tony disapproved the most.

“I like him, okay?!” You screamed at Tony one night.

You had lost it. You reached a breaking point. Tony had been on your ass, making it known that he hated the way you and Loki looked at each other, flirted with one another. He had even gone as far to say that your and Loki’s “situation” was endangering productivity.

You could’ve smacked him. But if it weren’t for him, you’d be dead in a ditch somewhere. So you kept your head, and tried to explain your feelings to him.

“I still don’t like it,” Tony said after you finished. “He’s not safe.”

“He’s never once put my life in danger,” you argued.

“Not yet.”

“You don’t know that he will,” you continued. “I trust him.”

“It’s a bad idea,” Tony shrugged.

“Not everyone has chronic trust issues, Tony,” you snapped. “I don’t need a lecture from you of all damn people about trust.”

Tony let you leave after that. He never apologized to you for how he insulted you. And you never apologized to him, either.

You don’t remember when you started sleeping in Loki’s bed. All you know is that you got used to it quickly. Three nights in, you tried sleeping in your room, and wake up in his. And when you asked him how you got there, he simply smiled.

“You’re a sleepwalker, I’m afraid,” Loki murmured, lips ghosting over your eyebrow. “You climbed in next to me without a word.”

“I’m sorry,” you groaned, hiding your face in your arm.

“No need to be sorry, my love,” Loki whispered, turning your head so you’d stop hiding. “I am only glad that even in your sleep, you find me.”

You kissed him hard, then. Hands running through his hair, tugging, swallowing his moans while he swallowed yours. His hands found their way under your shirt, and would’ve gone further if it weren’t for the loud alarm that began to blare.

“Tony,” you grumbled. “I hate him.”

“Me too,” Loki agreed breathily. “We’ll finish this later, hm?”

You did.

It was a quiet shift, but eventually you began staying in Loki’s room completely. You moved a few of your things every night, started putting your clothes in his closet next to his, you even brought your favorite blanket with you one night — and that’s when you knew what you were feeling was serious.

Everything was perfect. Until it wasn’t.

Loki always told you he’d give you the world. The universe. All of it.

You never imagined he’d try.

“I’m doing this for you, love, don’t you see?” He had cried, voice broken.

“I don’t want you to do this,” you replied, tears welling in your eyes, and Loki didn’t know what to do then. He never wanted to cause you pain. “Stop this, Loki, please.”

But he was too far gone. “You’ll see. Once it’s done, you’ll see, my love. You’ll see.”

Tony got you out of there before Loki could do anything. You still don’t think he would have. But everyone else thought otherwise.

“You need to end this,” Tony said once he got you to safety.

You shook your head. “He’ll come around. I just need more time.”

“We don’t have time! People are going to die if we don’t do something!”

“Just give me some time!” You yelled back.

“No,” Tony said firmly. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

You fought it hard. You tried to reason with Loki, but all of it was to no avail. People died.

Millions died.

The guilt weighed heavy on your heart. You didn’t even say goodbye before Thor took Loki home, back to Asgard, where he wouldn’t hurt anyone else.

It was months before you reached out to Thor, asking if you could speak to Loki. To say goodbye. To ask why. To check on him. To tell him you still love him, even though you shouldn’t.

You only told Thor it was to say goodbye. So he agreed.

And when he saw the state you were in, he offered a solution.

You told him if you could just forget, you’d feel better. The guilt was eating you alive. You were nearly hospitalized twice.

So, when Thor told you he knew how he could help you forget, you agreed without hesitation.

You loved Loki greatly. But you couldn’t keep going on like this.

“You’re doing the right thing,” Thor said.

You merely scoffed. A noise somewhere between a broken laugh and a sob.

Loki’s cell looked nicer than you expected, you’ll admit. And he was reading. Doing at least one thing that made him happy.

Your heart broke when you saw it was a copy of your favorite novel, knowing what you’re about to do.

“Brother,” Thor said. “You have a visitor.”

Loki laughed. “Go away.”

Slowly, you lowered the hood from your head. “Loki.”

Your voice. It stunned him to breathlessness, and he nearly dropped the book. He scrambled to his feet, right to the edge of his cell in a matter of minutes. “My love.”

Your heart broke. “How are you?”

“Better now that I see your face,” he smiled. “Have you come to get me out of here?”

You shook your head sadly. “I can’t do that.”

His face fell, only a fraction. “Still, I’m glad you came. I’ve missed you. How have you been in my absence?”

Sleepless. Restless. Depressed. Guilt-ridden. “I’ve been okay.”

Loki had always been good at reading your face. “What’s wrong?”

Tears welled in your eyes. “I love you.”

“My love,” Loki whispered. “What are you doing here?”

“I love you,” you repeated. “I’m so sorry for what I’m about to do, but I have to. You understand that, right?”

“Y/N—”

“Just tell me you understand,” you interrupted. “Please.”

“Okay,” Loki replied, but what you didn’t know is that he was trying to read your mind. Trying to figure out what was plaguing you, and when he saw, his eyes widened. “Y/N, don’t—”

“Stranger,” you choked out, squeezing your eyes shut once the last syllable left your lips.

When you opened them again, your eyebrows furrowed. What am I doing down here?

“Please,” Loki whispered. “My love.”

You looked around, wondering who he could be speaking to. “I’m sorry,” you said. “You must have me mistaken with someone else.”

Before Loki can say anything else, Thor calls out your name, catching your attention. “It’s time to go home.”

Right, it was all coming back now. You came to visit Thor and he asked if you’d like to walk with him as he did a routine check-in.

You gave Thor a look. “Not even going to let me stay one night? I’m hurt.”

Thor grinned, glad you didn’t lose your wit, but also glad to see a genuine smile on your face again. “Next time.”

“Fine,” you rolled your eyes, glancing one last time over your shoulder. “Who’s he?”

“No one important,” Thor replied quickly. “Thank you for accompanying me down here to check on things.”

You punched his arm with a laugh. “Always, you scaredy cat.”

Loki watched with tears streaking his face as you left, memories erased.

You might’ve forgotten him, but he’ll never forget you.

And if he ever gets out of this damn cell, he’ll make you remember.

[miraculousluvbug]

WINGLESS | Ch. 2

***WARNING: Season 4 Spoilers Ahead

***New to Wingless? Start at Chapter 1!

CH. SUMMARY: Of all the people Rena could let slip that she knows Ladybug's identity in front of . . . it had to be Chat Noir.

< < < THREE MONTHS AGO < < <

Ladybug swung from building to building, the exhilaration of a job well done fueling the fire in her veins. Traffic it would seem had resumed immediately, the sounds of wheels on pavement and cars obnoxiously honking ricocheting throughout the city’s architecture. This didn’t surprise Ladybug, seeing as the city had grown quite accustomed to akumas blocking the roads. Once the tips of her toes touched a rooftop, it wasn’t long before she was joined by another pair of boots.

“That went well,” commented Ladybug as she swiveled to face her teammate.

Rena Rouge folded her arms across her chest and popped a hip, lips puckered in a frown. “Are you kidding, girl?”

Ladybug’s face fell. No, she wasn’t kidding. She honestly had felt it went well. Was she missing something? Did a disaster strike while she was focused on her lucky charm? Had her Miraculous ladybugs not corrected all of the damage? Were there civilians hurt somewhere--

Abruptly, Rena clapped her hands on Ladybug’s shoulders and squealed, putting a halt to Ladybug’s internal meltdown. “That went amazing! We’re like a well-oiled machine, you and me. I still can’t believe I get to do superhero stuff!” At the sound of Alya’s impromptu shrieking, some pigeons nearby took flight, cooing what Ladybug imagined was a bird version of crotchety old people grumbling. Not even the least bit deterred, Rena leaned forward into Ladybug’s personal bubble, eyes wide with excitement. “But what I really can’t believe is that I’m doing it all with my best friend!”

Ladybug relaxed her posture and let out a breath she hadn’t known she was holding. But she quickly regretted it when she got a nice, big whiff of crepes, urine, and cigarette smoke. Ah, Paris. Home, sweet home. However, noticing her thoughts were veering dangerously offtrack, Ladybug shook herself mentally.

So nothing had gone wrong. Rena was just being Rena and drawing out the suspense. Ladybug patted her friend’s right hand--which was still firmly squeezing her shoulder--and smiled sweetly.

“It sure is convenient that I don’t have to hide from you anymore,” the spotted-heroine remarked. “I think half the time I took so long to get to a battle because I always had to come up with excuses.”

Rena grinned with a knowing glint in her eye. “I might be impressed if your excuses were actually good.”

Rolling her eyes, Ladybug turned away from Rena, causing Rena’s hands to fall to her sides. “Hey, you try having to come up with five hundred different reasons you have to flake on your friends and see if you fare any better.”

Rena was about to sass her best friend some more, but the words caught in her throat at the sight of Ladybug hugging herself. She recognized this stance. Ladybug’s head was in what Rena deemed the “Guilt Grotto.”

Rena stepped forward to wrap Ladybug in a warm, girl-you-better-get-your-head-out-of-the-guilt-grotto-or-I’ll-tickle-you embrace when there was movement across the rooftops in her periphery. She craned her head to the right to find the familiar silhouette of Chat Noir vaulting his way over, a goofy grin clearly plastered across his face the closer he got.

In a matter of seconds, he landed squarely beside Ladybug, startling her. Ladybug, the epitome of grace that she was, did a series of awkward hand gestures before falling back on her bum, shrieking.

Chat Noir didn’t even look a teeny bit remorseful.

“Looks like I got here just in time!” he quipped, bowing and sliding his baton back into place on his suit.

Rena held out a hand for her friend as Ladybug voiced her question: “In time for what?”

Chat bounced on the balls of his feet. “Well, for the akuma, of course! You guys were having a quick team meeting, right?”

Rena and Ladybug shared a look. So that’s what he was so happy about. Ladybug opened her mouth to reply, but Rena beat her to it.

“Actually, we already took care of the akuma.”

Chat Noir visibly deflated. His ears drooped and his belt tail started to swish back and forth. “Oh.” He turned to the edge of the rooftop and hunkered down, letting his legs kick to and fro in an attempt to get rid of some of the adrenaline.

Ladybug winced. Chat did not sound happy. Hesitantly, she sat next to him. Rena then took a seat beside her, making her the middle. “Sorry, Chat. I know you like battling akumas more than I do.”

Chat nodded before murmuring, “Thirteen.”

“Hm?” Ladybug scooted closer to him to hear him better, their legs nearly touching. She leaned to her right to get a better look at his face and tilted her head innocently. If she were Marinette then, she might have fallen off the rooftop altogether, but she was Ladybug, and Ladybug had way more poise.

Chat didn’t answer immediately. Whatever it was that he was about to say, Ladybug knew it must be something important if he, the guy who was always upfront about his feelings, found it difficult to say. The guy who told her . . .

It’s precisely when something is important that it’s important to say it.

No matter what.

Ladybug gingerly rested a hand on his arm, hoping he understood what the gesture meant. It’s okay. Take your time. I’m ready to listen.

After a few more moments of staring at his feet, Chat Noir lifted his head so his eyes bore into Ladybug’s. They creased with . . . Was that worry? Sadness? Fear?

“Thirteen,” he repeated, a bit louder. “That makes it thirteen times you and Rena have battled an akuma without me. Since Montparnasse Tower.”

Ladybug was speechless. As she stared ahead, eyes unfocused, she tried her hardest to recall all the akuma battles. It was challenging as her memory loved to fail her when she needed it most. Had he really not been in any of those battles? Had it really been thirteen times?

Had he . . . had he really been keeping count?

Ladybug didn’t know what to say, but she knew she had to say something, anything. But what could she say? Was she sorry?

No, she couldn’t be sorry that the akumas had been defeated, that the victims had been rescued, that she had been able to do so quickly because Alya had been spending a record amount of hours by her side.

She couldn’t be sorry about any of that. She was only sad that he felt sidelined.

That was not her intention.

But she knew what the solution to that was.

And she would rather die before she let Chat Blanc see the light of day.

Somehow, knowing her identity had led to him being akumatized. Somehow, whether it was in an alternate timeline or when their memories had been wiped by Oblivio, she knew that what he said at Montparnasse Tower--that to know him was to love him--was truth. And Chat Blanc had told her what their love did.

Their love destroyed the world.

Their love had killed her.

Their love broke the moon, for crying out loud.

But, most importantly, their love hurt him.

Chat Noir had told her he loved her, many times, and she had even been considering giving his pun-spurting, jokes-at-the-worst-times self a chance. But being forced into combat with her akumatized partner had violently squashed any hope she had for them, for LadyNoir as Alya coined it on her blog. Ladybug would be damned if she allowed that to happen again. And if that meant encouraging him to move on even though it broke her heart . . .

Well, it wasn’t supposed to be easy being a hero.

Ladybug had this entire conversation with herself in a matter of seconds. She was careful not to let her face expose any of her innermost feelings, instead sporting an expression of neutrality. What she ultimately decided to do was tell him the only truth she had to offer. He hated secrets and she hated lying. What a pair they made.

“I wish it could be different,” she whispered.

And oh, how she did. She desperately yearned to tell him who she was, to know who he was, to tell him about Alya and Nino and all the other people she had entrusted with a Miraculous.

She wanted him to know how she grew up, what kinds of things she did at school, how she was utterly ridiculous when it came to her rotten luck (and she tried very hard to push a certain blue-eyed blonde out of her head the moment that phrase came to mind). She was sure he would snicker at all the times she made a fool of herself in front of Adrien, of all the ways she made her own life a living hell with her clumsiness.

Or perhaps he wouldn’t laugh. Perhaps he would pat her shoulder and uplift her with words of encouragement. She didn’t know. After the stunt he pulled with the balcony of candle-lit roses, the boy was a wild card, an enigma. He was complex.

And it thrilled her.

But no matter how she felt about him, they couldn’t know each other that way.

Sighing quietly, Ladybug brought her knees up to her chest and turned away from Chat Noir. If she had been watching him when she responded, she might have seen him look longingly at her, but she didn’t.

Rena Rouge did, though.

Wanting to make her friends feel better, Rena added, “Don’t you worry your pretty kitty head about it. I’m sure all those battles would have taken way longer if we weren’t already together.”

Ladybug and Chat Noir both stiffened. Chat’s gaze flicked from Rena to his partner over and over before they finally rested on Ladybug. “Uh, what does she mean by that?”

Ladybug shot a glare in Rena’s direction, but her eyes softened when she saw that Rena genuinely appeared surprised.

He didn’t know? Rena’s eyes asked Ladybug.

He didn’t know, Ladybug’s affirmed.

One would think Rena was Lady Luck because her pendant had decided that that moment was the best time to beep, and she couldn’t agree more. Now she had an escape route from this conversation. “Welp,” she clapped her hands together, “I’m gonna go chill in that fine-lookin’ alley over there.”

Before Ladybug could agree, Rena sprang from her spot and promptly disappeared. She was a regular magician, and her latest trick was leaving Ladybug with a rabbit to put back in the hat.

Or, er--a cat back in the bag. Whatever.

“What she meant by that . . . ” Ladybug began slowly, like she was addressing a wounded animal. Which, maybe she was but just, you know, emotionally wounded.

“Yeah . . . ” prompted Chat, signalling that he was not going to drop this.

Ladybug quickly jumped to her feet and began her ritual of frantic pacing. “Look, I’ve been wanting to tell you this for a while, but I didn’t know how to because I knew it would raise questions that I couldn’t answer--”

A blonde boy in white leather with somber blue eyes appeared in front of her and she dug her heels into the cement, skidding to a stop.

Chat Noir was behind Ladybug now, his voice soft and curious. “Bug?”

Ladybug was frozen in place for a few more seconds before she shook her head hard enough to give herself shaken-baby syndrome and nodded, satisfied that the aggressive head-shaking had rid her of he who shall not be named. She whipped around and started.

Chat Noir was incredibly close.

She didn’t know he had gotten this close.

Geez, his eyes were really cat-like.

He also had a really cute nose--

Ladybug, FOCUS!

Ladybug took a step back. She made it her mission to ogle his bell instead of looking into his dumb kitten eyes. “You--” she began, but Ladybug’s throat was suddenly dry. She gulped. “You know how much I hate secrets and lying. And I know how much you hate secrets and lying. So I’m not going to lie to you. But I may not be able to answer the questions I’m sure you’ll have, so please . . . ”

Ladybug grabbed one of his hands then and held it firmly between her own, pleading with every fiber of her being that this would communicate how much he meant to her even though she knew what she was about to tell him would make it seem like he didn’t mean anything.

Please forgive me, Ladybug’s heart supplied.

When he didn’t immediately take his hand back, she looked up at him. She looked into those dumb kitten eyes and knew without a shadow of a doubt--

She was a masochist.

This was going to hurt. He didn’t like when she was the only one to know Rena’s identity. He definitely wasn’t going to like that Rena knew hers. This would be so much easier if she wasn’t ogling those big, emerald green, beautiful, brazenly dumb kitten eyes.

But she was a masochist. And she needed to see them while they still held love for her.

“I told Rena Rouge who I am.”

There. She ripped off the band-aid. Straight to the point. Zero room for interpretation. After all, her worst arguments started because of her clumsy miscommunication.

Ladybug braced herself for an explosion. She had played this moment in her head a couple hundred times since exposing herself to Alya.

Yelling. There was always yelling.

Sometimes, he stomped away while doing that weird T pose where his fists didn’t connect to his hips . . . a pose she herself was guilty of, too.

Others, he chastised her about her thoughtlessness--to which she responded that she definitely thought about it long and hard that day.

Ladybug braced herself for an explosion because she was sure there was going to be one, especially after seeing him upset about her always running off to Master Fu. He hadn’t even known there was a Guardian for a while.

What she hadn’t braced herself for was the expression on his face.

Thump, thump. Thump, thump.

His head was bowed.

His eyes were closed.

A lone tear slid down his cheek.

Thump, thump. Thump, thump.

Her heart thudded against her ribcage, screaming at her to run because he wanted her Miracul--!

No! She refused to finish that thought.

Her head yelled back that he wasn’t akumatized right now, that she wasn’t back there, that she wasn’t with him. She desperately tried to shove the image from her mind. This was more than she could bear. She just--she couldn’t take it! She couldn’t take it because . . .

Because . . .

Thump, thump. Thump, thump.

Because he looked just like him.

Thump-thump. Thump-thump.

He looked like Chat Blanc.

-----

Heya! Thanks for reading. ❤ Check out my Instagram for Wingless updates. I'm also posting pieces of a Wingless cover with each chapter update!

(2/?) Previous | Next

[heliads]

The Lookout (Part One)

Your brother, Stiles Stilinski, has a feeling that newcomer Theo Raeken only means trouble for the McCall pack. When he sends you to spy on the werewolf, you’re not sure what to expect.

masterlist / part two

You sigh irritably. The school day is over, it’s the weekend, the last thing you want to do is listen to your older brother yammer on about his classmate-related fears. However, Stiles Stilinski has rarely cared about what you did or did not want to do when it came to his werewolf-safety lectures, and so he continues on speaking. This time, the topic of this discussion is one Theo Raeken; namely, the fact that the guy is obviously a supervillain. At least according to Stiles.

“Look, you can’t tell me it’s not suspicious. Werewolves don’t just show up in Beacon Hills without something to prove. Besides, the guy even walks and talks evil.” You push open the doors to the school with a sigh. “I think he’s fine. You’re just being paranoid.” Stiles lets out an irritated huff. “Usually, the paranoid people in movies end up being right. You should listen to me. I could be right about this.”

You give him a look. “Or you could be wrong, and we’ll just be running away from someone who could be a potential ally for no good reason. Honestly, I think you’re just overreacting.” Stiles stares at you, utter bewilderment crossing his face. “You know what, I think I know what it is.” He stabs a finger in your general direction, suddenly decisive. “You think he’s hot. That’s what it is. You don’t want to listen to me because you think he’s hot and you don’t want to consider him a bad guy.”

You turn to him with a look of utter shock. “Excuse me?” Stiles gestures loosely with his hand as the two of you continue walking through the school parking lot. “You keep staring at him, you smile when he talks, you don’t want to listen when I tell you he’s obviously a bad guy. It’s simple- you think he’s hot.” You let out a snort of laughter. “You stare at him more than I do, Stiles. Besides, if we’re talking about staring then we need to talk about Lydia. You can’t keep your eyes off of her. Honestly, it’s kind of cute.”

Stiles swats your shoulder. “We’re not talking about Lydia. We’re talking about Theo.” You flash your brother a smile as you reach his beloved Jeep, opening the door to slide inside the passenger’s seat. “I think you’re being ridiculous. And, even if I did happen to think he’s hot, it wouldn’t matter. You’re still insane.” Stiles lets out a squawk of protest as he enters the car as well. 

The two of you are so involved in your argument that you don’t notice the brown-haired boy pausing by the door of his truck. He turns when he hears his name tossed around by you and your brother, but a small smile rises unbidden to his lips when he hears your laughter. The boy hesitates a second longer, and then the bubble of your conversation is drowned out by the sound of the Jeep’s engine starting up. The boy’s grin slides away as if he’s suddenly remembered himself, although he does cut one last glance your way, eyes lingering on your easy smile.

You know something is about to happen when Scott, Lydia, Kira, and Malia all show up to your house. You raise an eyebrow at your brother when they all file into your kitchen. Your father is coincidentally absent, although you’re sure Stiles timed this to happen when he was out on a shift as sheriff. “I’m sure I’d like to know what this is all about. I usually get told about pack meetings, but now I’m getting a little worried.”

Stiles folds his hands together. “I didn’t tell anyone that there was a pack meeting until just now because I wanted to make sure we wouldn’t have anyone joining in.” Malia cuts in. “By ‘anyone’, he means Theo. The whole point of this is about Theo.” You grin. “I had a feeling it would somehow tie to him.” Stiles looks miffed. “He’s a threat, okay? And by the end of this, I’ll be able to prove it.” You watch him with a quizzical eye. “What does that mean?”

Stiles leans forward across the table. “I want you to go spy on Theo. You’re going to go pretend to be his friend and everything, and you’re going to find out what he’s hiding from us.” You mirror his stance in front of the table. “If you’re right and Theo’s such a bad guy, why would he tell me anything? This plan makes no sense.” Scott steps forward. “That’s why we need you to convince him to let down his guard. Theo assumes Stiles is on to him, right? If he thinks he can steer you away from Stiles, you might be able to trick him into giving up some information.”

You consider this. “You really think I can be a spy for the pack? You actually think this is going to work?” Stiles reaches across the table to clap you on the shoulder. “I know it’s going to work. He won’t suspect a thing.” You sigh. “I wish I had your confidence. I’m fairly sure he’s going to see through this the first time I try to talk to him.”

You have no idea why Stiles thinks this is going to work. It’s a terrible plan, and the chances of it succeeding are slim to none. That being said, you have never backed down from a challenge, especially not from your brother, and so you’re certainly not about to start now. You form a plan: simple, but probably effective. When leaving school the next day, you have an argument with Stiles, coincidentally in front of Theo’s truck. You allow the werewolf to see you walk away angrily from your brother, and allow yourself a small smile when you see his truck come to a stop as you’re walking furiously down the sidewalk.

You look over when you hear a shout from Theo’s direction. “You need a lift?” You pretend to look hesitant, and then suddenly decisive, as if not wanting to trust Theo and then remembering that Stiles (who you’re supposed to hate) doesn’t like Theo. You walk over, sliding into the passenger’s seat. Theo raises an eyebrow when you close the truck door a little louder than normal. “You want to tell me what happened?” You just sigh, staring out over the road ahead of you. “I hate my brother.”

Theo chuckles as he drives away from the sidewalk, continuing on down the road. “What, has he finally gotten to you too?” You heave an exasperated sigh. “He won’t let me do anything. He keeps repeating this same excuse that he wants to ‘protect me from all the supernaturals’ but he won’t let me prove myself. He’s not even that much older than me, and I can handle myself.” Theo smirks. “If he can’t see that, he’s an idiot.” You grumble to yourself. “You don’t have to tell me twice.”

Theo ends up driving you back to your house, coming to a stop in your driveway. You turn to him. “Thanks for the ride. I didn’t really like the idea of having to walk all the way back here.” Theo offers you a cool grin. “Hey, no problem. If you ever want to get away from all this, my door is always open.” You smile quietly in spite of yourself. “Thanks. I might take you up on that.” You wave goodbye, jumping down out of the truck and walking to the door. You’re pleasantly surprised to note that Theo doesn’t leave until he sees you go in, making sure that you’ll be alright. You didn’t expect this to go so well this quickly, but you’re not about to complain.

Stiles arrives at your house a short while after you, and he bounds excitedly over to you. “So, how’d it go? Does he trust you unconditionally?” You laugh. “Isn’t Theo supposed to be a sinister, heartless supervillain? No, he doesn’t trust me.” Stiles holds up a finger to prove his point. “Yet. He doesn’t trust you yet. You can do this.” You groan, shaking your head as you try to hold back a grin. “I’ll see what I can do.”

The next morning, you make sure to keep up the pretense of pretending to hate your brother. Theo actually makes it surprisingly easy to continue with the act- you’ve barely walked outside to eat your lunch when he’s already calling you over to sit next to him. You slide onto the bench, a few tables down from Stiles and his friends. Theo shrugs at your raised eyebrow. “Hey, you were glaring at Stiles so I assumed you still weren’t over the argument. I figured you might want somewhere else to eat.”

You grin. “And you want to make him mad because you know he doesn’t trust you?” Theo returns your twisting smile. “I’m not going to pretend like that didn’t cross my mind. I mean, if you don’t like him why should I?” You call up a look of utter indignation. “He’s just being so annoying! He doesn’t trust me to do anything. Stiles isn’t even that much older than me but he’s already trying to be a helicopter parent.” This is exactly what Theo wants to hear, and you know it. Theo leans forward, a conspiratorial grin on his face. “Then what do you say we ditch him? I’m willing to bet that there’s more to Beacon Hills than the limits of Scott’s pack.”

Stiles warned you about Theo’s manipulation tactics, the way he tries to sway everyone to his side. You can’t deny that he’s good at it- if it weren’t for the fact that the little dispute between you and Stiles was completely fabricated you’d almost believe that Theo truly wants to help you. This being said, you can spot Theo’s lies reaching out to you and so you wrap them around yourself, calling up your lies to combat his. Two can play at this game.

You flash him a smile. “Sounds perfect. Meet me after school?” Theo nods. “We can take my truck.” Across the tables, Stiles finally glances up and sees you. The look of bitter annoyance on his face upon seeing you with Theo isn’t hard to fake, although it still makes you and Theo laugh. This might be more fun than you had first envisioned.

How do you convince an apparently betraying conman and serial liar to trust you? It’s surprisingly easy with Theo, actually. You end up spending more and more time together- drives to and from school turn into impromptu road trips, you meet up at his house or the school or the middle of the woods. You’re not sure you’ve ever laughed so much with anyone before, and it’s getting harder and harder to remember that you’re supposed to be spying on this guy, not actually becoming friends.

That being said, you have been able to uncover some information. Something is definitely up about Theo’s parents, outside of the signature dilemma uncovered by Stiles. You’ve seen the way Theo’s parents watch him when his back is turned, the way fear suddenly crops up in their eyes. They almost act like he’s a stranger, someone to be afraid of. You’re not sure why, but you find yourself making excuses to head away from them. Stiles would probably want you to stick around, try and figure out any more clues, but it’s so unnerving that you want to avoid his parents instead.

Also, there’s something not quite right about Theo’s story. You’ve heard him mention it a couple of times now- he was out skateboarding late at night, an alpha attacked, he was turned into a werewolf just like Liam and the rest. Yet Theo doesn’t own a skateboard, hasn’t for a while. In fact, you had casually asked him a question about skateboarding and he had completely drawn a blank. It makes no sense, which means that something is definitely wrong with his story. And if Theo is lying about how he became a werewolf, then he’s probably lying about why he came to Beacon Hills, which means that you and your friends might be in more danger than you had thought.

Even with all of this, though, you’re still not sure that you want to leave Theo’s side. When you told Stiles and the others about everything you’d uncovered about Theo, they’d been worried. Scott had pulled you aside, asking if you wanted to stay so close to Theo. If he was as dangerous as you think, you might be at risk if you continued hanging out with him away from the pack. Stiles, too, seems less certain of his foolproof plan for you to spy on the werewolf and mentioned that you might want to step away. Every time they ask, though, you make up excuses. There might be more to find out. It’ll be good to have someone get close to him, just in case. No matter what, though, you know one thing: you don’t think you could leave Theo if you tried.

These thoughts keep burning into the back of your mind, but you manage to push them aside for today. It’s a beautiful night, the sun having finally set and the colors of the dusk washed away into an all-encompassing inky black. The stars are spangled across the horizon, and a laugh is burning deep in your throat as you race Theo through the woods of the Beacon Hills Preserve. You technically shouldn’t be here this late at night, you know that, but for some reason, you can’t entirely force yourself to leave. You’re with Theo, he’ll make sure nothing happens to you.

Your feet pound on the packed earth, ducking under low-hanging branches and around fallen tree stumps. You think you’re alone, and then a pair of arms wrap around your waist and force you to a stop. A laugh bubbles out of you before you can help it, and you swat at Theo’s arms, although he doesn’t let go. “You ass, I thought you were farther behind me.” Theo’s voice is close to your ear, his face only inches from yours. “I’m a werewolf, remember? I could outrun you any day.”

You roll your eyes, although this just makes the smirk on Theo’s face broaden. “It’s mean, that’s what it is. Maybe I’m trying to finally be alone, you don’t know that.” Theo just chuckles, the sound deep in his chest and making you shiver. “If I believed that, I would have stopped running.” There’s a silence now, a silence that hangs over the two of you like a cloak. You realize where you are, where his hands still encircle your waist and his storm-grey eyes are still locked on yours. There’s a second of hesitation, and then he leans down and kisses you.

If you were smart, you would break away. If you were smart, you would realize that Theo Raeken is only doing this to get to you and to get to your pack, that he is more dangerous than you could know. Your best option is to leave, to stop before you get your heart involved. But that’s already happened, hasn’t it? Despite your best efforts, despite everything you know about Theo, you can’t help but kiss him back, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and letting him wash away everything you can remember about the world.

Maybe you’re not supposed to be falling for Theo. You’re not sure that you ever had a choice.

[swan-of-sunrise]

The Winter Soldier (Chapter Six)

Summary: (Y/N) and the others successfully abduct a high-level Hydra operative, who provides them with information on Hydra’s bone-chilling plan.

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings/Disclaimers: Brief description of a panic attack

A/N: Hope you all enjoy!

Chapter Six (Previous Chapter)

“How in the hell did you come up with this plan?”

(Y/N) and Natasha were using binoculars to stare out the window of an abandoned apartment at a small courtyard situated between a tall building and a crowded outdoor café, where Sam was currently sitting and enjoying an iced tea; Steve was sitting in Sam’s car and parked around the corner, at the ready just in case the plan didn’t work. Once (Y/N) told the others her plan to abduct Sitwell and they’d taken a quick trip to Fort Meade for the EXO-7 Falcon pack, Natasha had hacked into the Hydra operative’s digital planner; she discovered in his itinerary that he’d be in a meeting with Senator Stern all morning in the building across the street, and then she’d managed to remotely clone Director Pierce’s cell phone.

Glancing away from her binoculars, (Y/N) flashed Natasha a bright smile. “It wasn’t that hard; part of it’s from a scene in my novel, actually. This is how Amelia – she’s the main character, by the way – tricks an enemy agent into giving her important information on her case.” She pulled the laser pointer integral to their plan out of her pocket and twirled it around her fingers. “Pretty cool, huh?”

“You’re in the wrong line of work, (Y/L/N). You’d make a good spy.”

(Y/N) chuckled bashfully and turned back to her binoculars. “Thanks, but I think I’ll stick to writing. Less of a risk of being shot at, you know.”

“Well, not many writers would just up and volunteer to try and take down a covert terrorist organization.” Although she said it in an off-hand manner, (Y/N) could tell that Natasha was genuinely curious about her off-the-cuff decision.

“I’m not usually an impulsive person, but what I said earlier was true: I have no right to do any less than what the three of you are doing. I won’t sit by and watch as Hydra destroys everything we know, especially knowing that there are ways I could help stop them. Besides, Sam and I are a team, have been for over a year now. I can’t let my best friend put himself in danger without being by his side.” (Y/N) rolled her eyes at herself and gave the spy an embarrassed smile. “But please don’t tell him I said that, Nat, it would only inflate his already-enormous ego.”

“Secret’s safe with me, hot-shot.” Natasha paused for a moment. “You remind me a lot of Rogers. To tell you the truth, I think that’s half the reason why he let you onto the team.”

(Y/N) frowned at her comment, her eyes still looking through her binoculars. “What’s the other half-?” Just then, a group of men walked out of the building across the street. “Wait, is that Sitwell?”

Natasha looked through her own binoculars and nodded. “Yeah, the bald guy with the glasses.” She quickly set down the binoculars and typed out a quick text on her phone. “Time to see if your plan works, 007.”

Through the binoculars, (Y/N) saw Sam glance down at his phone and dial a number from his seat at the café. The group of men headed towards the parking lot, leaving Sitwell alone on the building’s steps. (Y/N) smiled to herself as she watched him pull out his phone and press it to his ear; he became skittish as he listened to Sam talk. Watching Sitwell���s lips, she carefully aimed her laser pointer and pressed the button just as he asked, “And why would I do that?”

She let out a triumphant laugh when Sitwell glanced at the red light on his tie and looked around in fear before hanging up the phone and walking towards Sam. “Yes!” She punched the air and put down her laser pointer and binoculars. “Dynamite with a laser beam!”

“‘Killer Queen,’ yeah?” Natasha grinned and nodded appreciatively. “Steve was right, you’ve got a great taste in music. C’mon, we’d better head down to the car…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fifteen minutes later, Steve was throwing Sitwell across the rooftop of an apartment building; Natasha strode confidently after him, and (Y/N) tried her best to hide her unease as she trailed behind them. Although she’d thoroughly researched torture methods for her novel, she wasn’t quite sure she could stomach seeing them performed in real life. Stay calm, Captain America wouldn’t do those things to someone else, she thought to herself, fiddling with the edge of her grey leather jacket, although he did mention that they might do that one thing if Sitwell doesn’t talk. She looked up from her combat boots in time to see Steve say, “Tell me about Zola’s algorithm.”

“Never heard of it.”

“What were you doing on the Lemurian Star?”

“I was throwing up, I get seasick.” Steve grabbed Sitwell roughly by the collar and forced him to the edge of the rooftop, but the man only smiled condescendingly up at the super-soldier. “Is this little display meant to insinuate that you’re gonna throw me off the roof? Because that’s not really your style, Rogers.”

(Y/N) couldn’t see Steve’s face, but she assumed that he was smiling as he smoothed out the crumpled lapels of Sitwell’s jacket. “You’re right. It’s not. It’s hers.” After quickly stepping aside, Steve watched calmly as Natasha kicked Sitwell directly in the chest and he toppled off the roof, screaming the whole way down. Despite (Y/N) knowing what their plan was, she still felt her stomach lurch uncomfortably as the man’s screams grew fainter the longer he fell; she’d never mentioned her extreme fear of heights to any of them, but in that moment she wished she had.

Natasha turned to Steve. “Oh wait, what about that girl from Accounting, Laura…?”

“Lilian. Lip piercing, right?”

“Yeah, she’s cute.”

Steve shook his head and looked down. “Yeah, I’m not ready for that.”

(Y/N)’s confusion and slight jealousy at their conversation shifted to awe as Sam suddenly flew up and threw Sitwell back onto the roof while he landed gracefully on his feet. (Y/N) rolled her eyes in amusement as her best friend flashed her a wink, his wings quickly folding back into his pack as he approached them.

Sitwell, no longer composed and condescending, was shaking with fear on the rooftop as he held his hands up. “Zola’s algorithm is a program for choosing Insight’s targets!”

“What targets?” (Y/N) asked, an uneasy feeling settling in the pit of her stomach.

To her surprise, Sitwell sneered. “And who the hell are you? The personal assistant?”

Steve grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and squeezed until he began wincing. “What targets?”

“You! A TV anchor in Cairo, the Undersecretary of Defense, a high school valedictorian in Iowa City, a first-time novelist writing about the Cold War in D.C…” Everyone’s eyes snapped to (Y/N)’s, and she could feel the blood leaving her face as she fully registered his words. “Bruce Banner, Stephen Strange, anyone who’s a threat to Hydra! Now, or in the future.”

Natasha, her face grim, drew closer to Sitwell. “The future? How could it know?”

“How could it not? The twenty-first century is a digital book. Zola taught Hydra how to read it. Your bank records, medical histories, voting patterns, e-mails, phone calls, your damn SAT scores. Zola’s algorithm evaluates people’s past to predict their future.”

“And what then?”

Sitwell rubbed his temple agitatedly. “Oh my God, Pierce is gonna kill me.”

Steve shook him again. “What then?”

“…then the Insight helicarriers scratch people off the list. A few million at a time.”

A heavy silence hung over the group as they all absorbed what Sitwell had said; millions of people around the world are going to be killed by Hydra if we don’t stop them, (Y/N) realized in horror. She tried to avoid thinking about it, but she couldn’t help but replay Sitwell’s words over and over in her head: A first-time novelist writing about the Cold War in D.C., a first-time novelist writing about the Cold War in D.C., a first-time novelist writing about the Cold War in D.C…

“Okay, time to head out.” After yanking Sitwell roughly to his feet, Steve turned to Natasha and Sam. “You two mind escorting him back to the car?”

“’Course not, Cap,” Natasha smirked as she and Sam grabbed Sitwell’s arms and dragged him towards the rooftop doorway, Sam throwing a concerned glance at (Y/N) as he went.

“You okay, (Y/N)?”

As Steve’s words left his mouth, (Y/N) registered the ringing in her ears and that she was taking rapid and shallow breaths; her heart hammered in her chest and through her clouded vision, she could barely make out Steve’s worried face right before her. “Can’t…can’t breathe…”

“Okay, it’s okay, um, here,” Stepping forward, he reached for her hand but stopped himself short. “Is it okay if I hold your hand?” (Y/N) gave a short nod and he took her hand, gently placing her palm against his chest so she could feel his strong heartbeat. “You’re okay, just try and slow your heartbeat to match mine. Can you do that for me? Breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth, like this.” He began doing the breathing exercise, and she shakily began copying him. “You’re doing great, (Y/N), just keep breathing.” To her surprise, he stopped the breathing exercise and began quietly humming a familiar tune; it was so faint beneath the dim ringing in her ears that she could’ve dismissed it as her mind tricking her if not for the feeling of reverberation in his chest. (Y/N) gradually felt her body responding positively; her breathing began to even out and as her heartbeat returned to normal, her vision cleared and the ringing faded away into nothing.

Once his humming came to an end, she looked up at him with an insecure smile. “‘Smoke Gets In Your Eyes,’ The Platters. Thank you. I-I don’t know what came over me, I was fine until…well, you know. All at once, everything suddenly became very…real for me.”

Steve nodded solemnly. “No one will think any less of you if you decide to go home. You’ll be safer, and-”

“No, no way.” She firmly shook her head, her mouth set in a determined line. “I’m staying. Just because I found out I’m a possible Insight target and had a panic attack doesn’t mean that I’m suddenly okay with sitting back while Hydra plans to kill millions; if anything, I’m even more invested in this fight than I was before.” She felt the corners of her mouth lift into a smirk. “If you’re trying to get rid of me, Rogers, then you’re going to have to try a little harder than that.”

When she finally stopped talking, she registered something akin to admiration in Steve’s small smile, and she willed herself not to blush. They stared into each other’s eyes for a few more moments, and that’s when (Y/N) realized that one of Steve’s hands was still resting on her waist and the other was gently holding her hand against his chest, his thumb absentmindedly rubbing small circles over her knuckles.

Steve seemed to realize the same thing because a moment later, he quickly let go of her and took a couple of steps back. With a pinkish tint to his cheeks, he glanced toward the rooftop doorway and replied, “Well, if you’re sure that you’re okay then let’s go. We’ve got a launch to stop.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! I’ve created a Spotify playlist inspired by this series, and I’ll be updating it every time I upload a new chapter. Enjoy! 

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4BenknAqQQnOWY8NmSa23V

Tagging: @mrs-obrien @lahoete @awkward117​ @cminr​ @momc95​ @awkwardnesshabitat​ @marinettepotterandplagg​ @khuang3​ @supersouthy​ @benakenalove​ @brooke0297​ @hufflepeople​ @becausewelie​​ @outoftheregular @supreme-tantrum​

Chapter Seven

“The Winter Soldier” Masterlist

[brandstifter-sys]

Crisis Angel 

@dukexietyweek Day 2: Swapping              (Ao3)

Word Count: 2277

Characters: Roman, Virgil, Remus

Pairing: Dukexiety

Rating: T+

Warnings: Blood, death mention, Gore, sex mention, Body Horror, Fire, Criss Angel references

The Dragon Witch causes Remus and Virgil to switch roles because she's tired of listening to them whining about the other, but they manage to fix it

---

It wasn’t everyday that Remus got cursed by the Dragon Witch, in fact it was incredibly rare, since she actually liked him and his antics. But he had to complain and whine about his predicament, no one liked him, and he seemed to scare the shit out of Virgil. All he wanted was cuddles, clothing optional–was that too much to ask!? A duke can fall in love and want to be with the person who had his heart, and he can want without shame! If only he weren’t the embodiment of intrusive thoughts he could win that emo over. The Dragon Witch just had to take his ranting to heart! 

Remus woke up feeling a general unease. He was very much aware that he had to fix his weapon rack or else he could do some serious damage, and there would be blood and broken bones and sprains and he didn’t know how to mend himself! That’s what Janus was for—and for being a friend, like the golden boy he was. He was kinda saddened when he remembered that no one else really liked him or wanted him around. He had a feeling he knew what happened, and he didn’t want to think about the implications of it. He did anyway. It's not like he had much of a choice.

Instead of his usual attire, he threw on a Green Day shirt, leggings, sneakers, and Virgil’s old hoodie. He kept it for the nostalgia and because Virgil didn’t wash it before he got to it, so it smelled nice. It was the only part of his outfit that made him feel comforted and safe. He would need the safety to manage his way through the day and back to the Dragon Witch’s castle. She had to be behind this sudden change! He just hoped he was the only one affected. 

However, when he stepped into the common area, Remus realized that he was not the only one affected. Oh no, he saw more than he bargained for! 

"I can't believe you of all people would suggest such a thing!" Roman huffed from his usual recording spot and crossed his arms. 

"Why not? Just because I hate him doesn't mean I don't think he should be royally fucked into submission!" Virgil jeered from the stairs, where he was spread out and lounging like some kind of rockstar. He definitely dressed the part—tight leather pants covered in zippers, an open spiked leather jacket that showed off his defined torso, and knee-high combat boots.

"I want to vanquish that foul villain, not create a fanfiction worthy scene to deflower him!" 

"You wouldn't, I made sure he was flowerless years ago. You're just making excuses, Princey—we all know you want that snake cake and to tear into that dandy with your second sword—unless you're more interested in a new pony to whip."

"What happened to you? You sound like—" 

"—me," Remus said and announced his presence. Two sets of eyes landed on him and he swore he wanted to disappear at that exact second. 

"Are you saying I sound hot?" Virgil jeered and leaned forward, smirking coyly at Remus. Roman huffed and ignored him, deciding that Remus might be more willing to explain. 

"Do you know why Virgil is acting like this? And what are you doing in that hoodie? You look like death!" 

"I don't know for sure but I'm pretty sure Mille did it," Remus shrugged and leaned against the staircase tiredly, but not letting his guard down, not with the way Virgil was eyeing him. He shivered at the thought that crossed his mind—too much blood he did not want. 

"Millie? Remus, have you been bothering her as of late?" Roman pressed. 

"I don't know if I would say I was bothering her, I visit her at least once a week with snacks and we hangout. I could have been bothering her, though. Maybe I was! Oh god, what if I was and she didn't say anything because she doesn't trust me to listen to her when she's uncomfortable?!" Remus freaked out and tugged the hoodie closer around him to shield his body.

"You know you could have asked me for that hoodie, I would have given it to you, in exchange for a few organs," Virgil mused and licked his lips. Remus winced and curled into himself, uneasy about getting that kind of attention in front of anyone else. 

"You switched," Roman said as it dawned on him, "but why would she do that? Unless—" 

He froze when Virgil casually drank lighter fluid from a flask and then a lit match. The plume of flames that shot from his mouth towards the ceiling made Remus jump back and clutch his chest. At least he wasn't thinking about how he could have made a mistake with the Dragon Witch.

"Hmm the Dragon Witch did this? Do you think she'd make a better pair of boots or a belt? I'm tired of the flood of new parlor tricks," Virgil hummed, "It's agony without any relief—but I know one of you can make me feel better." 

Roman scowled as Remus inched toward the couch. Virgil snapped his fingers and appeared on the couch behind Remus. 

"I'm a better seat than this old thing, Dukey," he teased, getting Remus to yelp and freeze.  

"I'll go see her and save you the heart attack, at least from that journey. I'll see if I can stitch the pieces together since you don't seem to be prepared for that." 

"Need a few needles?" Virgil asked lazily and pulled a string out of his navel, shockingly there were needles threaded along it. Roman sank out with a huff, unwilling to deal with any more nonsense. Remus was more distracted by Virgil's bare skin and toned abdomen to be bothered. So he might have been gawking. 

"You can get a closer look, with your tongue if you're brave enough," Virgil teased before tossing the thread away. Remus turned bright pink and averted his gaze. He kept getting horrible ideas about what he could do to that body.

"You don't want me to do that," he sighed and hugged himself, "No one wants me to get too close, even Janus has his limits. And I know it's for a good reason." 

Virgil sat up and leaned towards Remus, pouting. 

"You really think that, Cuddlefish?" 

"Yeah, everyone else just wants me to get lost, except Janus, why wouldn't I think that?" Remus said bitterly and sat on the arm of the couch. 

"I only want you to get lost in my eyes, or my intestines after I go Dahmer on your ass."

"Come on!" Remus snorted, "I scare you, and you don't like me and my gross ideas. I make you uneasy and I don't know what to say to not do that because everything could go wrong and I don't want that. And now more than ever, I'm terrified of everything that could go wrong!" 

"I usually don't like the thought of you seeing my pants tenting—that's a circus that's not usually in show. But you can get ringside seats whenever you want, if you want."

"What?" Remus questioned, trying not to focus on the image of Virgil wearing Britney Spears' ringmaster outfit from the video—or something more revealing. 

"If I don't keep my distance I'm not gonna be able to let you get away. I like you, so goddamn much I just want to rip your eyes out to stare at them forever." 

"Virgil?" 

"It's a lot easier to say it without the crushing weight of anxiety squeezing my innards out through my pores. I like you, that way, hell, I might even be bold enough to say I love you! And it's usually so terrifying I could drop dead from emotional overload at any second and you'd have a corpse to play with as much as you want!" Virgil raved, jumping to his feet, "You are everything I'm not and I want you to want me the same way but you deserve better than a panicking maniac with anger issues and low self-esteem! And I know that this change won't last so I have to tell you now before I go back to being a pants-shitting basket-case."

"And what are you going to do when we switch back? I don't know if I can take a confession like that just for it to change jack shit, especially when I want you to mean it. I don't wanna be the emotional victim of the resident mind freak," Remus pressed. Virgil stood in front of him and tapped his chin in thought. 

"Actually," he hummed and thrust his hand through his chest, revealing some torn muscle and his broken ribs. Remus' eyes went wide as he grabbed his thundering heart and tore it out, blood spurting on the floor.

"I want you to keep this, keep it safe, and that way I'll know that it's safe to act on these feelings, even when I'm an anxious emo mess again." 

Remus reverently took his heart and cradled it in his hands like a treasure he was afraid to break. He stared up at Virgil in awe before pressing his lips to the gift. 

"There's a different throbbing muscle you can put your mouth on," Virgil teased. Remus scrunched up his nose and stuck out his tongue. 

"Not when you have a hole in your chest, Angel!" 

"Wanna stick something in it?" 

"Kinda," Remus admitted sheepishly. Virgil leaned down and cupped his cheek. 

"First let me show you my greatest trick," he purred, "turning a man into a puddle." Remus' breath caught in his throat and his eyes fluttered shut as Virgil captured his lips and licked into his mouth. Remus melted into the kiss just as expected, his heart racing with his thoughts. 

And then a familiar feeling took over him. The Dragon Witch really went with the biggest cliche to lift the curse.

"I can't believe I just did that," Virgil mumbled as he pulled away. Remus grinned and wiggled in his seat. 

"But you did! And you can do it again!" Remus sang and giggled, "But first—!" He conjured a jar around the heart and set it on the ground gently, then he eyed Virgil's wound. 

"Do you want to fix that or can I stick something in it?" he pressed, getting Virgil to glance down and flinch. 

"No, too many risks, I don't really want you to accidentally mess something up." 

"Accidentally?" 

"I don't think you would do anything like that on purpose with this hole." 

"This hole?" Remus purred, "So there are others I can mess up? Please, do go on!" 

"Maybe later, after I skin the Dragon Witch. I didn't want her to actually get rid of my anxiety so I could tell you—y'know—"

"So you were bemoaning your cruel fate too? Maybe we should thank her! You're really hot when you're confident and having my kind of thoughts!" 

"Give me enough time and somewhere private and you can get more of that," Virgil mumbled and rubbed his neck, "If I'm in a comfortable place, I might be able to relax—but don't get your hopes up, anxiety sucks." 

"It was kinda not that bad being Anxiety," Remus mused, "I didn't feel great but I was a lot more aware of my surroundings and the way my pulse thundered from excitement! Now I know what I need to fix in my room and what really gets me going!"

"Even if I'm not Creativity anymore, I still might have a few ideas worth trying," Virgil said in agreement. 

"Creativity?" 

"Yeah, your role." 

"But I'm an intrusive thot!" 

"You think you're the only one with twisted thoughts?" Virgil scoffed and grabbed the hair at the base of his neck, "You know you were still having them, I could see how you flinched without me doing anything, it's so obvious. That part didn't change for either of us." 

"So you have intrusive thoughts too? You should tell me about them! Over dinner!" 

"I could do that, if you can't come up with a more creative date." 

"You can come to my room to watch a few horror movies and cuddle—but you have to wear that outfit or less because goddamn! I forgot how ripped you are!" 

"Dinner it is," Virgil huffed and loosened his grip. Remus whined and leaned closer with a pout. 

"Movies and cuddles. But jammy pants and no shirt under the hoodie instead," he countered, "I need skin to skin contact no matter how platonic." 

"You mean the mouth to mouth won't be enough for you?" Virgil mumbled and blushed down to his shoulders. Remus' eyes went wide.

"You never said that would be an option! I didn't think you'd want to do too much on the first date!" 

"You have no idea what I want to do with you right now." 

"You can show me!" Remus grinned and wiggled his eyebrows. Virge scoffed and loomed closer, gripping his hair tighter. Remus' breath hitched as those lips brushed against his own. 

"You'll just have to wait for that," Virgil mumbled and pulled away without kissing him. 

"Tease!" Remus whined and crossed his legs. Virgil smirked at him and shook his head. 

"See you tonight at eight—or more like seven since I tend to panic and show up early," he said and pressed a kiss to Remus' forehead before sinking out. 

Remus picked up the jar again and squealed. It was going right above his TV so he could see it while he held its owner close to his. He definitely owed Millie big time!

----

Inspo pic for Virgil’s outfit

[kittinoir]

for the writing prompts, marichat for #16?

Hi hi! Sorry this took SO long - in more than one way! I got this request some time ago, and then it actually took me over three weeks to start and finish. I hope it’s worth the wait  <3

#16: ‘Not them, anyone but them!’

Chat Noir smirked as he extended his baton and vaulted over the illusory maze walls Volpina had created. Not a bad tactic, but an ineffective one once he’d discovered the ruse. Still, he could practically hear his lady’s voice in his head, if not beside him - she had yet to arrive.

Don’t get too cocky, Chat Noir. She can use her powers as many times she wants. We only get one shot.

It didn’t help that Volpina’s powers had been ‘upgraded’ by Hawk Moth; it didn’t matter whether it was real or fake, if Volpina created it, the illusion took on a life of its’ own and could no longer simply dissipate like smoke when struck. It was actually annoyingly similar to Mayura’s ability, with fewer steps.

Chat Noir analyzed the maze on the way back down from his vault. The maze had sprung up in the city all of a sudden, the walls so tall they were impossible to climb. Of course, even twenty foot walls were no match for him. He’d never actually been able to find the limit on how far his baton would extend, but he’d certainly pushed it further than this. Slowed down, maybe, but contained? Never. 

Now if she’d thought to enclose the corridors, that would be another matter.

But instead of handing her the idea by vaulting right to the middle of the maze - where else would she be? - he touched down a few rows over. His instincts were screaming at him to drop in on her, but he knew better than to follow them. That had been how he’d started it out, and also how he’d usually gotten his tail handed to him. No, if he wanted to win, he’d need the element of surprise - even if it meant going solo. Maybe Ladybug was the only one who could purify akuma’s, but it would be nice if he had Volpina subdued when she arrived. Like a little present.

Chat Noir crept closer, making sure his bell didn’t chime as he did. He took a deep breath before daring to peek around the corner of the final hedge, baton at the ready just in case he was unlucky and Volpina was facing him.

But she wasn’t. She didn’t even seem to be waiting anxiously for him and Ladybug to drop in on her. In fact, she seemed…distracted?

“…so pathetic,” he heard her say, her back to him as she idly twirled her flute. “Of course, don’t go thinking any of this was for you. It’s just a nice little bonus that you stumbled in here. But stumbling’s what you do best, isn’t it, Marinette?”

Chat Noir felt his heart stop dead in his chest. He must have heard her wrong - but his Miraculous enhanced hearing was never wrong. And if it was never wrong, then Volpina must be talking to…

“You’ll never get away with this.” Whoa, he’d never heard his usually-sweet friend sound so…venomous. “Ladybug and Chat Noir will stop you - again.”

Chat Noir bit his lip as he snuck another look around the hedge. Part of him wanted to warn Marinette not to bait this girl, to tell her that she’d once set Ladybug up to be destroyed by Hawk Moth and nearly succeeded, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t enjoying listening to Marinette tell her off. 

Of course, a hostage did put a wrench in his plans. He had no problem going toe-to-toe with Volpina, but with a civilian - with Marinette - directly in the line of fire, it was safer to wait. Ladybug’s Lucky Charm could fix any damage, but only if she transformed in time, and she had yet to arrive.

“I’d like to see Bug Eyes and Alley Cat try,” Chat Noir heard Volpina say as he drew back to check the GPS on his baton. Maybe one of Volpina’s illusions had his partner tied down. “I wasn’t ready for them the first time, but I’ve learned some new tricks.”

Nothing on the GPS. Either she hadn’t transformed yet, or Volpina and Hawk Moth had already taken his partner out of commission. Either way, he was still flying solo. He needed a new plan, fast.

“That’s the difference between you and them,” Chat Noir heard Marinette retort as he took another look. He could see now that Marinette had indeed stumbled into some kind of trap. Wooden branches had sprung up from the stone, twining around her limbs and keeping her feet just off the ground. They looked brittle enough to snap, but thick enough to be a challenge for the average person. He probably wouldn’t even need his cataclysm to get her out. “They actually have talent and skill - and all you have are tricks.”

“You know, I was going to keep you around for collateral but it’s very quickly becoming not worth it,” Volpina hissed as the flute came to an abrupt halt in her fist. “You never could take a hint. So what do you think it’ll take to make the lesson stick. How do we feel about snakes?”

To her credit, Marinette didn’t even flinch. Those pretty blue eyes of hers just narrowed into a familiar glare. It struck an odd chord in him - Marinette almost never glared. So why did it feel familiar?

“Wasps?” Volpina taunted as she began to circle her prey. “Although I suppose that’s more Chloe’s thing. Hmm. What’s it going to take to get through to you that you are out of your league - that you can’t compete with me and never could.”

Chat Noir scanned the sky line again. Any second now his partner would drop in on them. Any second now. Come on, come on.

“Oh? What!? …I mean. Of course. If you’re sure.”

Chat Noir whipped back to the scene taking place in the centre of the maze. Marinette had finally recoiled, but not from one of Volpina’s illusions or threats, but from the neon purple butterfly outline that had sprung up on her face. He watched it fade as she leaned into Marinette, one hand digging into her shoulder.

“Hawk Moth would like a word with you,” Volpina purred. Chat Noir saw Marinette pale, surely a mirror of his own skin, but she didn’t balk again.

“He can’t.” He barely heard her over the thundering of his own heart as visions of the next few minutes sprang up in his head. Of Marinette, akumatized. He’d had variations of that nightmare before, about all of his friends, but Marinette’s was the only nightmare that hadn’t come true - yet. “Hawk Moth can only akumatize someone overwhelmed by their strong negative emotions, and only one person at a time. Don’t waste your breath on empty threats.”

Right. Marinette was right. Chat Noir’s breathing began to ease - until Volpina laughed.

“Aren’t we the scholar,” she jibed as she resumed her circling. “What’s that thing you’re always telling your little reporter friend? Oh yeah - you should double check your sources.”

Chat Noir’s grip on his baton went white-knuckled. Surely she didn’t mean…couldn’t mean… but it had happened before. Not Hawk Moth, but Scarlet Moth had akumatized several people at once before.

“But I’m…I’m not feeling any strong negative emotion,” Marinette said, but even he could hear the desperation creeping into her voice. “I’m not… I’m…”

“Who’s the liar now, Marinette?” Volpina asked. She paused just behind her captive’s right shoulder and used the end of the flute to tilt Marinette’s face back. “You hate me. You despise me. That’s the dirty little secret you can never get rid of, the violent little flame that won’t go out no matter how much you try.”

Try as she might, Marinette couldn’t move her head or avoid Volpina’s piercing gaze.

He was out of time. 

Chat Noir threw his baton like a javelin as hard as he could and sprinted after it, claws at the ready. If he could just free her, Marinette could escape and he could finish Volpina. One akuma was one too many. He didn’t like the odds of two while Ladybug was still in the wind.

“Mirage!”

Chat Noir dropped to the ground, skidding across the stone, hand out to swipe the branches keeping Marinette hostage. He didn’t see the thick glass wall drop into place until he slammed into it.

A thousand and one curses in at least three different languages clamoured over each other in his head as he got his feet back under him and snatched up his baton. Volpina, he discovered, had managed to dodge it, but it did give him the advantage of getting between her and Marinette.

“How nice of you to drop in, Kitty Cat,” Volpina teased. A hardness in her eyes was the only outward sign of her irritation. “Where’s the Bug?”

Chat Noir grinned with bravado he didn’t feel. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Makes no difference to me,” Volpina said, twirling the flute again. “I don’t mind a little one on one time.”

“Chat Noir.” He let an ear flick back to Marinette. He could hear her struggling to no avail. “There’s an akuma coming. I have to get out of here.” Nothing would stop one of Hawk Moth’s creatures.

“I know,” he murmured back, breaking his baton into two pieces for close combat. “Save your breath. I won’t let anything happen to you.” Because now it was just an akuma he was dealing with: it was the very real time-limit the air-tight cage had created.

“Not even you can stop what’s about it happen,” Volpina jeered as the flute came to a halt once again. “Marinette will be akumatized, and then she will help me destroy you, Ladybug, and your precious city.”

“It hardly seems worth it,” Chat Noir said, heart pounding as he played his hand - the only bargaining chip he had left. “When I’m standing right here.”

Even the city seemed to hold its’ breath at that. 

“Are you suggesting a trade?” Volpina said at last.

“No.” Marinette’s voice was barely a whisper. He ignored her, and instead, nodded.

“What is it,” Volpina snarled, “That makes even superheroes sacrifice themselves for her. Saint Marinette Dupain-Cheng, lording over the rest of us!”

“It’s a good deal,” Chat Noir insisted, slinging his baton across his shoulders casually. He just had to get Marinette out of Volpina’s way. He would come up with a better plan after that, but step one was rescue the damsel.

“Don’t do this,” Marinette pleaded. “You can’t! You can’t give him your Miraculous!”

Chat Noir risked a glance back at his friend. “I can’t let him akumatize you, either.”

He didn’t have the time to explain that he’d never recover if that particular nightmare came to life, or to put words to the feelings that made him so reckless. All he knew for sure was that, until Ladybug arrived, he would do whatever it took to keep that butterfly from touching her.

“You for Marinette,” Volpina said, clarifying his terms. Chat Noir nodded and angled his hand so his ring flashed in the late afternoon sun, taunting her. “Hardly seems like a fair deal.”

“It is to me,” Chat Noir. He could probably cataclysm the akuma. He was eighty per cent sure it would work. He just had to get it close enough first - and make sure it didn’t have any other possible victim around should he miss. “So what’s it going to be? Me or the Saint?”

“No!” Marinette shouted. He could hear the slight pant in her voice now. “Not him! Anyone but him!”

Chat Noir stiffened at the words, so unlike the girl he knew, but he kept his face clear. The last thing he needed was for Volpina to see how much they affected him and to akumatize her anyway as some kind of twisted punishment.

But they still burrowed into his heart, easily finding a home beside the others words he’d convinced himself didn’t matter: her rooftop confession. He’d thought nothing of them at the time, but they’d evolved into something more the longer he knew the truth of Marinette’s feelings. He didn’t know what to do about them, or what to do about how he felt about it all now - or how his still-undying, unwavering love for Ladybug fit into the whole thing.

So he’d done nothing.

But it now appeared that while his feelings had grown into…something more, Marinette’s hadn’t faded, either.

Volpina’s shrieking laughter once again dragged Chat Noir back to the matter at hand - and Marinette’s dwindling time.

“Don’t tell me you finally got over your crush on Adrien just to fall for this street cat,” she jeered. She might have said more, but Chat Noir didn’t hear it; he was still caught on the first half. He must have heard her wrong. Marinette didn’t have a crush on him. Marinette barely seemed to tolerate him.

Marinette, for her part, hadn’t seemed to hear Volpina at all. “You can’t akumatize Chat Noir,” she insisted. She was gasping now, her cheeks pink with exertion. “You can’t, you can’t, you can’t.” Her eyes had become unfocused and alarm rose in Chat Noir as he wondered if she was even conscious of what she was chanting.

His hand twitched. He should use his cataclysm to destroy the glass. He didn’t know where Ladybug was. He couldn’t be sure she would make it in time; god knew he’d been caught by a surprise by an akuma before. And so he couldn’t be sure she’d be able to fix whatever damage was done.

“Deal or no deal, Volpina?” Chat Noir demanded. He had seconds to decide.

“Hmm.” Volpina tapped her chin, tilting her head to the side as she considered. And then she smiled. “Deal. You definitely come with more perks. Besides, the look on Marinette’s face when you get akumatized will be much sweeter. Mirage!”

More roots sprung up. Chat Noir barely avoided them the first time, and the second, but the third time, he stumbled. That was all it took for the roots to overtake him, pinning him to the cobblestones.

“We had a deal!” Chat Noir snarled, struggling futilely. 

“And I’m just making sure you don’t break it,” Volpina said. She snapped her fingers and the bindings and glass case around Marinette dissolved. “Reality.”

Chat Noir winced as he heard Marinette’s knees strike the stones, but she managed to break her fall somewhat with her hands before collapsing entirely. “Chat Noir…no…”

“Run, Marinette,” he instructed. “Just go. It’ll be ok. Me and Ladybug’ll take care of it.”

“…Ladybug,” Marinette repeated, shoving herself back up. “Right. Thank you, Chat Noir.”

He nodded, about all he could manage as his friend staggered to her feet and broke into a run just as a corrupted butterfly cleared the top of the hedge.

“Pathetic.” Volpina smirked at Marinette’s retreating back. “Does she even know you love her?”

Chat Noir jerked against his bindings. “Love - I don’t love her,” he said, but the words were bitter on his tongue.

“Of course you do,” Volpina laughed. “Why else would you have made the trade? So foolishly lopsided, and for what? One ordinary girl?”

“There’s nothing ordinary about Marinette,” Chat Noir said softly as the sweetest sound he’d heard all day sounded behind him, far away but getting closer: the wire of Ladybug’s yoyo. 

“Whatever you say,” Volpina said. She scowled, too enamoured by her empty victory to recognize the sound of her own defeat drawing nearer, instead extending a hand for the akuma to temporarily perch on. “Now where would you like this? Baton? Belt? How about that charming little bell?”

Chat Noir grinned. “Now that I think about it, you’re right: it is a lopsided trade. Cataclysm!” 

The branches retraining him dissolved almost immediately. Volpina staggered back, afraid to touch them and experience the destructive power first hand. 

Chat Noir got back to his feet, and a back handspring or two put enough distance between him and Volpina that he was out of danger - for the moment.

“At least you’re predictable,” she snarled. She raised the flute to her lips, but before she could play a single note, a familiar red blur knocked the instrument from her hands.

“Sorry I was late,” Ladybug said as she dropped to her partners’ side.

“No harm done,” Chat Noir said. “I kept her busy.”

“I almost feel bad for her,” Ladybug teased. “Exactly how many puns did you subject her to?”

Chat Noir smiled tightly. “Enough.” No need for her to know exactly how reckless he had been. It didn’t matter if the risk had been minimal, if it had been minimal at all. All that mattered now was that victory was in reach.

And any feelings he had for certain dark-haired, blue eyed girls? Well…he would worry that later. He’d saved the damsel. Now it was time to save the day.

“Ready, m’lady?” he asked as Volpina geared up again.

“You have no idea,” Ladybug said with a determined grin of her own. “Let’s go; Lucky Charm!”

[thecatchat]

Sanders sides, but 30's mafia!AU. Here we go.

Patton Heart- mob boss

Very chipper personality wise which often makes people looking to deal with the family underestimate him.

He is incredibly smart in that he always gets opinions and ideas from those around him.

People often feel safe and welcome in his presence, especially young children as he radiates a strong dad vibe.

Though he doesn't like it, and would rather avoid it, if he has to get his hands dirty he prefers either a baseball bat or a molotov ("lets give um heart burn" is a common phrase said in the family)

While many know the name, not many actually know what Patton looks like, and many even curse his name to him in idle conversation. Rumors range from tall and buff, to short and stout, but he actually has a bit of a dad bod and a round, soft face.

Runs his mob business out of his actual business, a bakery called "Hearts Baked Goods"

Logan Bokker- records keeper

Unofficially, Logan is also Pattons right hand man, typically being the one to give out special jobs or keep the general members in line.

He's know by most for his solid glare, his ability to keep everything in check, and for always wearing a blue tie.

At one point, he was framed for a bank robbery and he wore a black tie for a week, calling himself Tom Smith, and he wasn't caught. He even tricked some of the members of the family, who asked where Logan was.

He met Patton because they went to the same church as children. Neither are very religious anymore.

If he has to fight, he likes to use a Tommy gun, or any near by throw able objects. Although he dose have a small hand pistol on him at all times.

Virgil Storm- getaway driver/mechanic

Learned all he could about moters and cars to help him get over his fear of cars so he could drive.

Was a taxi driver for a while, and vowed never to get into the mob business. And one day, he drove a chipper man from his apartment to a nice bakery named Hearts Baked Goods.

It was probably the best passenger he had, cracking several puns, trying to get him to smile, and overall very polite. He even tipped well!

So he drove by the building again the next day, around the same time, and the guy was there again. And the next day. And the next week. And next month.

It wasn't until he nearly ran over patton on accident when he stumbled out of a back alley, Running from the cops, bleeding out, and carrying a crate of molotov, that he realized that his regular pick up might not be all he seems.

After the ensuing car chase, and patching Patton back at Virgils apartment. Patton finally told Virgil his name and offered him a job as a getaway driver/mechanic. Virgil not knowing how to say no to a person, much less a mob boss, said yes.

If Virgil has to fight he likes to use pistols and revolvers, although he is really good with iron knuckles too.

Roman Angelo- Bartender/enforcer

His ability to know who needs a listening ear and who needs to hear an uplifting tale is impeccable. Its actually how he met Patton.

He was looking for work when he came across Patton who was having a bad day and immediately started up a conversation. Often spinning storys of his run ins with back alley fight clubs, and his slightly less legal hobbies (mixing drinks)

Logan had advised Patton to get a body guard and had mentioned the need for another bartender. In Pattons mind, it was a two for one deal.

When Roman was offered the job, he accepted immediately, knowing it would be a once in a lifetime opportunity.

Since then, he has become close friends with Patton and Logan and Virgil. He also has a slight crush on Virgil, who has a crush on him too, but they don't know that until a routine pick up gone wrong, near death experience for both of them, and some slight shoving by Patton.

Roman really enjoys hand to hand combat, he also is decent with knives and even has a sword passed down his family which he refuses to sell and polishes whenever he needs to think.

(Edit. Here are the rest)

Janus Smith- forgery expert/tailor

Janus is an expert tailor who has a keen eye and a different story for how he got the scars on the side of his face for each customer. And the ability to tell when people aren't lying or not after knowing them for a few minute's.

When a man calling himself Patton Heart walked in with three other men, asking for suits, he was skeptical about their identity. But after chatting with Roman for a few muinets, he realized that they weren't lying, and he didn't know what to do with that info.

What he did end up doing is what he always dose, have each customer write down their signature on a slip and sign the rest of the stuff for them. It makes things go quicker and customer's don't grumble about paperwork.

And then he leads Patton out of the back room to find the other three have found the documents he signed for them and aren't very happy. Patton is enthusiastic that they finally found a better forgery expert,the last one just died due to the polio and wasn't the best either way.

After some discussion, Janus joins as tailor by day, and forgery expert at night. Eventually growing close to the rest, especially Logan as he sometimes mistakes his forgerys as real paperwork. And so he might have a slight crush on him, so what, he's always been a good lier.

He perfers to use his words to get out of stick situations, if he has too, he gravitates tword baseball bats, and brass knuckles. Molotov are too messy for him.

Remus Angelo- enforcer/assassin?

The moment Remus found out Roman was in the mob, he wanted in too. When Roman said it wasn't his decision Remus decided to do what he dose best, annoy the hell out of him till he got in.

This included trailing him wherever he goes, and by extention, following Patton around as well. After Roman explained the situation Remus was easy enough to ignore for them.

Then one day, Patton and Roman were held up in an alley, wall an one side, six guys with guns on the other, planning on kidnapping, ransoming them, then killing them once they had the money.

Then they hear a shout of "EAT A DOG, DORKS" and then they all got shot to death by Remus.

Patton grateful for the save and impressed by his lack of reaction to gore and guts, desides he could become an enforcer, provides someone, typically Roman, goes with him to keep him from going too far.

Remus likes to use all manner of guns but has a special place in his heart for a mace that had been passed down the family, he doesn't use the original, he gets a copy made once he has enough money. He also is very good at throwing knives.

I think I might write some of these storys out, but would you guys be interested in hearing them?

[rosesisupposes]

Mist Connection (Sleepxiety)

read on ao3

Virgil's always been told to be careful in the fog. “Never stray from the path, no matter what you think you see or hear!” He's sure his Aunties are just superstitious. And yet...

pairing: Virgil/Remy (Sleep)

content tags: brief mention of parent death/disappearance; fae-like setting; Remy Is A Flirt; kissing, background best friends analogical 

word count: 4,072

⁂

Virgil has always hated the fog.

He stomps down the country road to his house, trying to make his footfalls louder.

He knows it's superstitious, but the thick, cloying clouds make him feel claustrophobic, like anyone or anything could leap out at any time.

And then, of course, there are the stories.

All his village Aunties talk of disappearances, a last sighting of a poor soul walking into a thick bank of fog and never being seen again.

“Be careful, lad,” they warn him. “Never stray from the path, no matter what you think you see or hear!”

Virgil rolls his eyes at them, smiles indulgently are their old tales. His friend Logan is always quick to point out that all these stories happened just before he was born, so it can only be passed down in rumor.

But a part of him believes, and so he dons his heaviest combat boots, zips his bomber jacket over his hoodie, and he keeps his eyes glued to the ground in front of him, watching each step to stay on the path.

He’s sure the legends are really about caution- the woods here are dense, and difficult to navigate even when it’s clear. It’s all too likely those sad disappearances were just folks who got disoriented and blundered in all the wrong directions.

But then again, one can never be too cautious.

It’s probably because he’s dwelling on those tales that he hears it.

“Virgil...”

Distinctly, a voice. Saying his name. It sounds... familiar, somehow. But who?

He pauses, listening hard. He hears nothing, though, and keeps on. He’s close to home.

He looks up, peering for the porch light. But then he sees- eyes? No, not quite eyes. They’re far too big, for one, but they also look too... blank.

“Virgil!” The voice says again, and now there’s a mouth along with the maybe-eyes. He’s not imagining- there’s certainly a face, of some kind, and it’s speaking to him. By name.

Virgil hesitates. He’s had several nights in a row of not great sleep- maybe he’s just tired and seeing things? But all the voices of his Aunties are yelling in his ear to look away, to keep moving.

The only problem is, the face is directly in the path where he needs to walk. He can only avoid it by going off the road. And that, he knows, is a far worse option.

So he takes a deep breath, looks down, and keeps walking forward. He keeps his eyes fixed at where the cloud meets the ground, at the edge of the little circle of visibility he has in each direction. It moves with him, as fog always does.

But when he chances a glance up, the face is still there. And now it’s more defined, a head shaped in the mist. And now he sees that the large eyes are in fact glasses. That makes sense.

Why am I trying to apply logic to a trick of my eyes in the fog? he asks himself angrily, and he firmly roots his gaze to the ground once more, stomping on.

“Virgil... wait, please!” the voice says again. More words now? Can he still call that just a trick of a tired mind?

Through the mist, he can make out the slightest nimbus of light from his porch lantern. He knows where home is, and it’s close.

So it can’t be too risky, right?

“Who do you speak to?” he asks cautiously, not wanting to confirm that this hallucination knows his name.

“I speak to you, Virgil!” the hallucination says, and its mouth is defined enough now for him to see a smile. The mist is rippling, more and more forming into defined shapes, giving it a neck, and shoulders, and a steadily-growing torso.

“Who are you? What are you?” Virgil asks. He tugs at his hoodie until the hood is free from under his jacket, draping it over his ears and head.

“You don’t remember?” the form asks, pouting. “Am I that unmemorable?”

“And what am I supposed to remember?” Virgil asks guardedly.

“How we met, babes! It seems so recent, but you’re so much bigger now...”

Virgil frowns. Something deep in the recesses of his memory stirs, like a whisper of a dream from many years ago.

The form has grown enough to have arms and the beginnings of legs. “Take my hand, you’ll remember,” it says, extending its newly-formed limb.

“Oh yeah? I’ll remember, and what else? Do I look dumb enough to go around shaking hands with every fog-creature I see?” Virgil crosses his arms resolutely, and the form droops slightly.

“I mean you no harm, hon. I just want to talk.”

Virgil says nothing, just taps his steel-tipped toe.

“Fine, no, sweetie, you don’t look dumb. Just familiar. Hm, do you have an older brother or father who looks like you? Did I skip a generation again?”

The more defined the form becomes, the more human its voice sounds, no longer an ethereal echo but a drawl. Virgil’s not quite sure if he should be reassured or more freaked out by that.

“Can’t help you there,” he replies. “If I have any siblings, I’ve never met them. And ditto on the dad.”

Finally, the form is complete, head to toe. It appears to stand on the ground, but it clearly cannot detach from its cloud completely. “Then clearly, introductions are in order.” It looks at Virgil for a moment, then grows a very similar jacket around its torso. “You may call me Remy.”

“Okay, fog-boy,” Virgil replies, arms still crossed. “You’ve been calling me Virgil, feel free to continue.”

“Virgil. I’m glad to have found you. I’ve been looking for you, you see. Or at least, I think it was you. You haven’t always been this big, right? Humans are weird.”

Virgil raises an eyebrow. “Strong words for a - man? Entity? - who just grew a body out of a cloud. But yeah, I grew the human way. I was a kid. Now I’m not. Are we done?”

“No, please!” Remy says, arms raising as Virgil starts to walk forward. “I can’t- if you go too close to the lantern I won’t be able to speak to you. I- if we did meet, touching my hand would bring the memory back, nothing more. I swear I mean you no harm. Please?”

Virgil hesitates. It’s a risk, for sure. But haven’t the aunties always said the fair folk cannot lie?

“Does it have to be your hand?” he asks.

“No, any part of this form will do.”

“Then turn around,” Virgil orders.

Remy obeys.

Virgil steels himself, still considering the possibility that he could just run to his house now. But curiosity takes hold, and he reaches out to lightly brush Remy’s shoulder. It feels odd, still a cloud, but gives more slowly, like memory foam. And then- he remembers.

He’s a child again, no more than five or so, and he’s lost on the way home. Auntie hurt her leg and couldn’t walk with him. He’d insisted he was able to walk the quarter mile himself. But then the fog had rolled in. He’s cautiously proceeding, staying on the path, but he’s terrified.

He hears a voice, calling his name, and follows it. A smile dances in the mist around him, and the voice tells him it will guide him home, only take its hand.

Virgil wraps chubby fingers around the cloud hand dangling from the mist, and true to its word, the porch light is soon visible. Another Auntie is on the porch, looking frantic, but calms when she sees him.

Virgil lets go of the hand, and he’s back in the present, hand dangling in mid air behind Remy’s back. He frowns in confusion.

“So I met you. And you helped. Why? Everyone not a child knows the mist isn’t friendly.”

Remy turns back around, looking hurt. “And did Everyone ever try buying me a drink first?”

In spite of himself, Virgil snorts in laughter.

“You’re a cloud, can you even drink?”

“No,” Remy replies, pouting, “but they could have made an effort!”

“Fine, so you’re not that bad. Can I go home now?”

“No- please, you’re the first one to hear me in... Goddess, even I’ve lost count.“

“So what,” Virgil asks with a shrug. “Did you just want to chat? Cause small talk ain’t my jam. I have a date with a conspiracy theory marathon.”

Remy droops. “I can’t keep you. Go, then. I’ll return to being alone and formless, reviled by the locals, my reputation cruelly smeared!”

“Holy shit, drama queen much?”

“Why yes, I am a queen! Thank you for noticing!” Remy replies, perking up.

Virgil rolls his eyes, but he can’t help but be a bit charmed by this odd creature. He dusts off a stump at the edge of the road and sits. “Fine. I’ll give you five minutes. Why can’t everyone hear you? Why does everyone think the mist will make us humans disappear?”

Remy’s feet leave the ground as they wriggle in happiness. A flick, and a chaise starts to melt into being out of the fog next to Virgil, giving them a place to elegantly flop down.

“I don’t know why they can’t all hear me,” they admit. “It only seems to be people who are... special, in some way. I think there’s been one a generation, but time’s a bitch and I don’t like her.”

Virgil smirks but doesn’t reply, nodding for them to continue.

“The disappearances... I think time might be an issue again? Time or space. One of those. Maybe both. I thought all humans were returned to the same moment and spot they left, but apparently I’m not the only one who gets messed up?”

“So... wait, what are you, exactly? Are you of the gentle folk?”

Remy sniffs. “How dare. My manners are so much better than theirs. Did I ask for you name? Have I whisked you off to my court? No ma’am!”

“Jeez, touchy! If not fae, what are you?”

Remy ruffles their hair, and it wisps around as if in a breeze. “I think you humans would call me, hmm, a spirit? Elemental? I’d tell you my actual name, but you wouldn’t be able to pronounce it.”

“Try me.”

Remy smirks, then makes a sound like the wind over a heath, the dampened noise of waves lapping at a shore, and the tiny sound of goosebumps forming in the clammy air.

“Okay, you’re right, I can’t pronounce that.”

Remy smirks deeper. “So anyway, I keep waiting to find one of you who can hear me properly, but most people just hear echoes I think? And that freaks out the poor lil human brains.”

“Wow, can’t imagine why,” Virgil replies drily.

“Hey, it’s not easy being ignored and invisible to everyone who passes you! Not that I’d expect you to understand-“

“Of course I understand,” Virgil says with a shrug. “That’s most of my life since the Aunties decided I was raised enough.”

Remy pauses. “What are ��Aunties’. Are those... food?”

“...they’re people. Why would you think food?”

“Humans do weird things, okay?”

“Sure, whatever. Aunties are all the ladies in town who collectively took care of me when I was a kid. Because no parents.”

“And parents are- the ones who made you?”

“Yeah, more or less.”

“Well, how can you not have them then?”

Virgil shrugs. “They didn’t stick around, I guess. I was dropped off at the wardlings house when I was a baby. I’ve only ever had the Aunties, and my best friend Lo.”

“Low?”

“Logan.”

Remy scratches their cloudy head. “Have I seen this Logan?”

“Nah, he was a pen pal, now an internet pal.”

Remy smiles, bemused. “I will pretend I know what any of those words mean!”

“I’ve never met him face to face,” Virgil explains.

Remy’s own face falls. “So you are also lonely.”

Virgil, about to shrug philosophically, pauses. “I- yeah. I am. It’s mostly fine, I’m an introvert. It’s fine.”

Remy sits up from their lounging position and stares at Virgil, or appears to. The glasses over their eyes are opaque, and the gray clouds of their face are hard to read.

“Do you think, maybe- I was so excited to be able to talk to you, Virgil. I would like to do so again, if you would allow it.”

Virgil looks down. The Aunties would absolutely screech in dismay at this entire situation, let along agreeing to repeat it. But- it hasn’t been unpleasant. It’s been intriguing. And Remy saved him, all those years ago.

“Yeah, I’d like that,” he replies, looking up with a smile. He’s rewarded by a smile on Remy’s face that’s so bright, it almost seems like a second lantern.

“Until next time, Virgil- wait, humans have family names, correct? What is yours?”

Virgil is standing to walk home, but smiles wryly. “You need a family to have a family name. I was found in the doorstep in the middle of thunder and rain, so they’ve always called me Virgil Storm.”

“Until next time, Virgil Storm!” Remy says. They hesitate, then move through the mist closer to Virgil. “This is how humans say goodbye, I believe,” they say, and then Virgil feels that odd sensation of dense clouds touching his cheeks, one that distracts him so much that he’s barely aware of Remy leaning in until lips of clouds are pressed against his.

When Remy finally withdraws, Virgil’s mind has come to a complete stop, and it’s not until his body has fully faded back into the swirling mists that Virgil is able to make himself move.

He walks into his house, shucks his layers and boots robotically, and collapses on the couch. He stares at the TV as it plays his conspiracy marathon, but his eyes don’t take in a single minute of it.

A fog person just kissed me. The thought, with no useful additions, circles endlessly through his brain, even as he falls into a restless sleep.

⁂

Virgil pays an unusual amount of attention to the weather after that... well, unusual night.

He checks the humidity every day, looks for fronts coming in that might bring in a bank of fog, asks the local farmers their predictions. He never mentions why he’s so interested. Certainly not to the Aunties, but also not to Logan. His friend can tell he’s a little distracted, but not enough to be a real concern.

Virgil’s not quite sure why he won’t even hint at it, but he knows it’s at least partly because, well. He’s not convinced it was real.

He had been very tired, so there’s a non-zero chance he did imagine it all. Or at least, that’s what he tells himself.

But when he’s lost in thought, he keeps realizing that his hand drifts to his lips and the sensory memory they still hold.

A week later, the forest eases under a coverlet of soft clouds curling close to the ground. From the minute the mist gathers, Virgil is sitting on his porch, peering into the growing fog with anticipation and nervousness.

When he can barely see the first tree, he double checks the porch lantern and walks out, checking over his shoulder until he’s fully surrounded by dense, swirling clouds.

He waits, looking around him, but sees nothing, and hears nothing.

“Uh, Remy?” he says aloud, feeling self-conscious. “Fog-spirit? It’s, um. Me. I mean, it’s Virgil.”

A weight in his stomach is insisting that it was all a sleep-deprived hallucination, and that he’s speaking like a fool into empty air. The rest of his stomach not currently sinking through his knees twists into elaborate pretzels.

Just as he’s giving up hope, turning to go, he sees smooth orbs sticking out of the amorphous clouds. The smile follows, already smirking.

“Oh babes, don’t tell me you mist me!” Remy drawls.

Virgil wants to run to them, to reach out and confirm that they’re really real, but he restrains himself. “I wasn’t sure you’d show,” he says with a deceptively noncommittal shrug.

Their body forms faster this time, and they lower their glasses to stare at Virgil for a moment. “Oh hun, don’t even try, I know what it’s like to be waiting breathlessly for someone to return.”

Virgil finds himself breathless anew, caught by the sight of Remy’s revealed eyes. They glow softly, like the hazy haloes of twin lanterns somewhere in the distance behind them.

He coughs, finding his thoughts again. “Do you  even need to breathe? As an- elemental, was it?”

Remy sniffs. “No, but I can if I want to. I’ve made myself lungs before! It was weird. I don’t know how humans do it.”

“We don’t exactly get a choice,” Virgil replies drily.

“And yet, Virgil Storm,” Remy says, drifting closer, “I think it’s really you who’s taken my breath away.” They cup Virgil’s cheek again, and this time Virgil’s sure his brain has absolutely ceased functioning.

“...erm. Uh. Yes?” he stammers, his cheeks flaming in stark contrast to the cool, humid touch of Remy’s fingers.

“What is this color, Virgil?” they ask softly. “It reminds me of- lady slippers. Early spring peonies. But with the warmth of a midsummer rain.”

“It’s called a blush,” Virgil mutters, still demonstrating the affliction.

“You didn’t do this last time,” they comment, still holding Virgil’s cheek in one cool hand.

“Last time, you hadn’t already kissed me,” Virgil says to the ground, the heat in his cheeks bursting out even more.

“Did I upset you?” Remy asks, a dark line of clouds showing a crease in their forehead.

“Not- upset, no,” Virgil manages. “You surprised me, though. Kind of a lot.”

“Surprises can be good or bad, yes? Was it a good or bad one?”

“It was, uh. A good one.”

“Would it be better if it were not a surprise?” they ask, and there’s mischief in their misty smile.

“Absolutely,” Virgil breathes, veins thrumming.

Remy leans in, and they’re kissing him again, and he’s... god, this is objectively the weirdest thing he’s ever done, and yet he can’t bring himself to care even a bit.

He kisses back, this time, feeling the odd, pleasant sensation of cool lips giving under his without dissipating. He reaches up and finds he can cup Remy’s soft, cloudy cheeks too.

A tiny, insuppressible voice in the back of his head wonders if an elemental has a tongue, or if that’s something they’d have to grow for the occasion.

The question definitely interests him, but there’s a second, louder voice.

Breaking off, it’s the second voice that tumbles out of his mouth. “Do you kiss everyone who can see you?”

Remy pauses.  “I- well. Technically, yes?”

Virgil steps back, arms coming up to guard himself off. The heat in his cheeks feels like ice now. “So, what. I’m just another human conquest?”

“No!” Remy says, and there’s clear distress in their voice. “No, not at all, it’s just- I admit, I have not been... entirely honest?”

Virgil narrows his eyes. “Start talking truth now, then. Or I’m walking away right now.”

Remy holds up their hands in defeat and surrender. “I was mostly truthful, I swear. I don’t know why some people can hear me, but I know why you can. And only two people ever have.”

“And why can I hear and see you?”

“Because of the last person who could.”

“And who was that?”

Remy takes off their glasses, meeting Virgil’s eyes with theirs. “I believe it was your parent.”

Virgil’s ears roar as his brain struggles to process this announcement. His parents? The ones he never even looked for, since no one had any leads? There’d been no note, no memento, no witness of who’d dropped him off. And he has his Aunties. But he’s never stopped wondering, fantasizing about dramatic backstories that he’d never confess to in a million years.

“Who are they?” Virgil asks, in a small voice.

“They were- unique. They heard us, after generations in this village who couldn’t or refused to. They lingered and talked, and didn’t run away in fear.”

“You talked to them?” Virgil asks, hope bursting out of his throat. “What was their name? What were they like?”

“I didn’t, no,” Remy replies with a small shake of their head. “Not until much later. No, they talked to a different elemental, a mentor of mine.”

Virgil stares. "There are... more of you?"

Remy smirks. "Not of me, hun, I'm one of a kind. But yes, there are other elementals. Fog's not the only thing in the world, sadly."

"What was your mentor's element, then?"

Remy sobers, and reaches out to clasp Virgil's shoulder. "Thunderstorms. They were the Thunder Spirit."

Virgil stiffens. "Wait, does that mean- the rain, when I was dropped off?"

"It was them, yeah," Remy says softly.

"What-" Virgil's voice is rough. "What happened to the other one? The human?"

Remy sighs deeply. They drop their arm to their side, and their body follows, falling to sit suspended in their soft clouds. "They disappeared, having you. None of us knew it would happen. They just... melted into the storm. Your parent, the elemental, they were able to save you, but they couldn't save their lover. And my mentor, Thunder- they couldn't care for you, not the way you needed. So they dropped you off and saw that you were picked up safely."

Virgil feels his legs giving out. His parents- not in any of his daydreams had they been, well, magic. He'd thought- maybe if they were, they wouldn't have left him. Or they would have come back.

Distantly his brain wonders why he's not on the hard ground, and he realizes Remy has sent solid clouds to hold him up despite the jelly his limbs have become,

"...why didn't they come for me?" he asks his knees, tears leaking down his cheeks. "Thunder- why didn't they find me, all these years?"

The clouds of Remy's cheeks have grown darker, and small raindrops drip from them. "They were devastated, Virgil. They loved your parent, truly and utterly, and they blame themself for their death. And we experience time differently - it hasn't been that long, for them. They haven't recovered. But they asked me to watch over you, to make sure you were safe."

Virgil swipes at his cheeks. "Doesn't that make you a creep, then?" He glares at the foggy entity in accusation. "Watching me since I was a kid, then kissing me?"

"I was barely a 'kid' myself when they asked me to, I swear," Remy protests. "They were like my- what was your word - Aunties? They looked after me, showed me the ropes of my powers as a new being. I promise to you, I wasn't leering then, I was new and young and, perhaps, interfering more directly than the elders wanted by taking your hand all those years ago.

"There'd been too many oddities of humans and the mist," they continue. "Disappearances. Our cousins the fae causing mischief when we weren't watching. So the elders created me, to survey all that the mist touches."

"So. What. Your love is pure or some shit," Virgil drawls, acid dripping off his words.

"Yes," Remy answers simply.

If they'd qualified, or justified, Virgil could be more defensive, could refuse to believe it. But they just stare at him, glasses off, glowing eyes sincere.

"Oh," is all he can manage in response. Maintaining eye contact has a strange side effect of making his cheeks heat up, so he has a staring contest with his boots, instead.

"Babes, please look at me?" they ask gently.

Virgil can't ignore such a polite request, can he?

But it's a dirty trick. How can he maintain a tough, self-righteously angry exterior when Remy is smiling at him with so much liking in their eyes that the orbs might as well be glowing hearts?

"Can you forgive me, Virgil? For not telling you everything sooner?"

Virgil resists for all of a second before breaking into a broad grin. "You could convince me, somehow."

Remy grins, and lifts Virgil off his feet, fully suspended in the low-hanging clouds. "I'll do my best to be very convincing."

Virgil, the son of a Thunder Spirit and their human paramour, laughs, and pulls Remy in to kiss him again, and again, and again.

[ye-bloodeh-liar]

I just finished AC Valhalla – A résumé.

I finished the "main story" of Assassin's Creed Valhalla. These are some thoughts of mine. (This was saved in my drafts for two weeks or so. But my stance hasn't altered. Actually, I'm even angrier now.)

Disclaimer: This obviously contains some spoilers here and there. You've been warned, but tbh, who even cares about the story at this point. Also, I know I don't have many followers, and I suspect none of the few that will come across this post will actually be interested in it. That said, if you like reading people's rants about things, regardless of your interest in video games, this might be something for you. I just needed to get this out of my system somewhere. This is a rant (well, vent? I'm venting, I guess) written as it came to my mind. There's no real structure, I think. Sorry for that in advance.

After Origins, which I thoroughly enjoyed and actually played again between Odyssey and Valhalla, and Odyssey, which's name was perfectly fitting since it felt like a fucking odyssey to grind through, I hoped, actually, I was convinced, Valhalla would right Odyssey's wrongs. You see, Odyssey had one big problem for me: It did none of the things that made and still make me love Origins. In short: The world was massive, but felt copied and pasted, uninteresting to explore and lifeless. Basically, it was a lot of green sprinkled with some olive branches. A lot of the times the only way to know roughly where I am was pulling up the map because based on my surroundings, I could've been anywhere. Compared to the intriguing world of Origins, where you always knew in which area of the map you currently were, this was a shitshow. I mean, just walking through the desert in Origins had more atmosphere than the whole city of Athens (the main fucking city) could ever muster up. (Oh, remember the times of AC Brotherhood, where Rome actually felt like a city even though it wasn't actually humongous like the new games are? Or how atmospheric the whole of AC II was? I mean, Venice? Hello? M a s t e r p i e c e) But I can overlook that. The combat didn't feel heavy, or to put it better, "impactful" like it did in Origins, but more like poking the enemies to their deaths with something that made sword-y sounds. But I can overlook that. The loot system improved a bit, in the sense of giving the option to modify your loot and being able to combine different armor pieces, however, Origins outfit-system was more up my alley. But I can overlook that. Funnily enough, compared to its predecessor, Odyssey looked worse. In Origins the fabric of your outfit look like actual fabric and, I can't stress this enough, waved in the wind. In Odyssey everything felt more static and somehow "fake". But I can overlook that. To me, Origins' story was masterfully done. Personally, I'd say, that this is the closest we've ever gotten to the Ezio-Trilogy. The voice acting was top notch. Bayek was a great character, and the side characters like Aya/Amunet were equally intriguing. I still remember the first time I saw the first confession cutscene after killing Medunamun. It gave me shivers and goosebumps and got me excited for what was about to come. What I want to say with this, is that Origins made me care; care about its characters, care about their backstory and motives, care about the world, etc. After I had finished the DLC The Hidden Ones I felt like I had actually witnessed the igniting spark of something epic, namely the Assassin Brotherhood, in such a chilling way, even though they basically were just chillin' in a cave. Because that's what character building gives you: payoffs. Well, Odyssey did none of that. All it did made me care about was to get all the loot, because that's what my mind always goes for in any game (I'm that kind of stupid ape). I didn't care about what would happen in the end – I just wanted to get there. I wanted to know how the story would end, but in whichever way it would, I knew I wouldn't care for it in the sense of being disappointed or yearning for a different outcome for the character I was so invested in, because, as I said, nothing got me invested in the character(s) in the first place. That's what bugged me the most about Odyssey. Not the flimsy feeling combat, not the husk of a world I found myself in, not the downgrade in design and animation, etc., but the lack of care it invoked.

Now, when Valhalla was originally announced, I was excited as I could be for a video game. Ubisoft was clearly aware of their mistakes with Odyssey and tried to show that they're willing to listen to their fanbase. A world where every area has its own identity? Sounds great. Heavy combat? Hell yeah. Gear and loot that actually matters and is special (unlike in Odyssey where after a few hours of playing you find yourself carrying the same fucking bow 25 times)? Oh my. Choices not for the sake of choices, but story? Yes please. I mean, if you have to implement choices. Even though choices don't really make sense in Assassin's Creed, but that's another topic.

Well, did it deliver (for me)? No. And to be completely honest, I prefer Odyssey, even as the grindfest that it is, over Valhalla, and me replaying Odyssey seems a lot more likely to me, than going through all of Valhalla again. I'm not going to list all of the points mentioned above again in full detail: The world is a bit more intriguing than Greece, but a shadow of what Egypt was. The combat feels heavy, yet every weapon looks too big (????) and it still feels a bit off. My biggest grudge of the minor points is actually the look/the graphics: How on earth does Valhalla manage to look less real than Origins? The fur and pelts on the armor, every piece of cloth, i mean just e v e r y t h i n g looks somewhat plasticy (at loss for a better word here; just compare Origins' outfits in motion to Valhalla's) Anyway, let's get to the real problem here, because all boils down to the point I've mentioned before: Invoking care.

This became very apparent to me after forging the fourth (?; was it the fourth? They all blur together. That's how e n t i c i n g they are. Great.) alliance or so. I didn't give a single fuck about the characters in those arcs. It was very clear that they'd be soon replaced by other characters in the next alliance's arc, which I probably wouldn't care for either, especially, since they all felt somewhat the same: empty. Alliances felt like checklists to do. Even Wincestre, which had an interesting beginning, somehow managed to loose all of its "darkness" after the first two quests. But I could overlook the dreary sidequest-like alliance arcs, if they served the main storyline in some way or form. Now you might ask, what main storyline? E x a c t l y. Looking back, there is none. At least not really. And there where a lot of times playing the game where I found myself wondering, if this alliance-arc-thing I was currently dragging myself through was in fact meant to be the actual story. But it shouldn't be. Was it? I have no fucking clue. My conclusion on what Valhalla's main overarching story is, is what follows:

Eivor's parents got killed when he was a child (never seen before lol), got adopted, and is now part of the Raven clan with his "brother" Sigurd//Sigurd comes home from some raid with the Assassins Basim and Hytham//(Eivor gets the Hidden Blade; I mean, this is an Assassin's Creed game. Big moment. Done in 2 seconds.)//Sigurd and Eivor aren't happy with the new King of Norway.//Sigurd and Eivor fuck off to England (with Basim and Hytham) to set camp there.//Eivor starts to forge alliances throughout England to make his clan's hold on England stronger.// Sigurd and Basim do their own thing.//Eivor meets Sigurd and Basim two or three times throughout his alliance forging.//Basim seems a bit off.//Sigurd says that he was told (by Basim?) that he is a descendant of the gods.// Sigurd wants to "pursue his destiny"// (sidenote: the last few things are all within one (!) short cutscene in a small house. d e v e l o p m e n t.)//Sigurd gets captured and tortured and loses his hand.//Eivor rescues Sigurd.// Sigurd is back in the settlement.//Sigurd distrusts Eivor because Eivor doesn't believe Sigurd and Sigurd thinks Eivor wants to take his title as the jarl (jarls are the bosses of settlements).// And then the end sequence hits. This is where I want to go into somewhat detail again. We go from Sigurd distrusts Eivor to "Eivor, I don't wanna be the boss of the town, so I don't hold a grudge anymore, let's go back to Norway and I'll show you I was right all along" like it's nothing. It's literally just that: You walk up to Sigurd, he says this (more or less) and you sail away. Again: development is taken very seriously in this game. Honestly, at this point I didn't even know that this was going to trigger the ending. My genuine thoughts were "Oh my, finally, after all this grinding, the story is going to start." when in reality of course, ironically, it was going to end. Absolute belter. So you sail to Norway with Sigurd, which takes fucking forever, because OF COURSE you have to sail (for everyone who didn't play the game, yes, sail, that means looking at a viking longship while occasionally moving the stick slightly to change its directions slightly) to your original settlement in Norway, for what feels like far too long, only to say Hi to your dad. Fucking lost it. I thought we were going to assassinate the King? Nah bruv let's just have some quick family talk instead. Some action? Nah. Just get back to the longship. A N D S T A R T S A I L I N G A G A I N. Where? Just around the curve of our settlement in Norway. Yes, they pulled the old trick of the ending is literally just right around the corner of your starting position hehe. Absolute belter. Is this to make it seem like something is about to happen? The calm before the storm? It doesn't work like that. Well, then you actually sail through a storm (lol), which doesn't matter, because Sigurd just says "Let's keep going" and, well, you keep going. Also, to this point the weather conditions have never affected neither Eivors health, nor the ship in any way whatsoever, so why should I be impacted by a storm now? Like, it's a nice thing for atmosphere, but at least make the ship harder to steer or something. Then you walk up a mountain. Funnily enough Sigurd walks in manner that shows that the walk against the storm isn't easy, whereas you, hah, you can just yeet yourself up that mountain like nothing. I could sprint up there. Fucking sprint. Anyway, Eivor and Sigurd enter the Isu temple, because of course, we had to throw an Isu temple in there, I mean, i t ' s A s s a s s i n ' s C r e e d. Was it hinted at before in the story? Not really. Were we chasing or searchig for it? Nah, better get that next alliance going. It just suddenly was. Again: development. So we walk to the main platform of the temple and activate the machine and bam we're in Valhalla (because at some point Ubisoft realised that maybe they should include what is literally in the name of the game). Again, were we looking for Valhalla? Like not in the sense that every viking was, but more in the sense

of was it the main objective of the game? Did Eivor look for a way to Valhalla? Was there anything that led us here other than Sigurd having had a few dreams (that only got mentioned, like, twice?) and being influenced into thinking he was a demigod or something? Nope, Eivor was looking for that next alliance to forge. So, Eivor realises that his experience of Valhalla is fake and he wants to get out. But fake-Odin doesn't want to let him go. In a really weird cutscene (jump to 6:30), Eivor eventually escapes Odin and enters a door with his settlement-family (look, I'm all here for metaphors, but this, this is just utter rubbish. It just doesn't make sense, and there is no payoff whatsoever). Odin actually had a build-up of some sort. In every assassination sequence he's there and talks with Eivor. I actually thought there would be some cool payoff/ending/reveal here. But nah, this ain't it chief. Yet somehow, until here, I had hope. I thought maybe now, building on all this confusion, there's gonna be a relatively good ending. Something enticing. Something that made everything somewhat worthwile. And Ubisoft went: Lol nah. So, you're out of the Isu machine again (for all the non-AC-peoples here: basically like the matrix. Eivor gets hooked up to the machine and experiences alternate reality: Valhalla), and Basim is there. What a twist. The guy that showed up like three times and went from friendly in the first time to super suspicious (like glaring-in-your-face-suspicious) in the two-or-so other major cutscenes he was in, has now been revealed as the enemy. Congrats to that. What a twist. The thing is, and this bothers me a lot actually, it could have been anyone there. It didn't need to be Basim. It wouldn't have felt out of place if it wasn't him. Why? Because Ubisoft failed terribly at making you connect to any character and at building any actual story (or character). It could have been Gunnar, the friendly black-smith in our settlement, and it would have been as fitting as Basim. Then Basim says that this is "for his son". Ah yes, the lost son of Basim, which was mentioned once. Right. Eivor defeats Basim by hooking him up on the Isu machine and gets back to the settlement with Sigurd (in my ending at least. There seems to be a possible ending in which Sigurd doesn't come back.) Cut to the modern day, where Layla now knows the coordinates of the Isu temple, goes there, hooks herself up to the machine, becomes the overseer of time with the other overseer of time which already was hanging out there (I mean yeah, great idea, terrible execution. Build it up, then you can have a payoff. This was just straight outta nowhere, and who cared about Layla anyway.) Anyway, meanwhile Basim, who was still hanging on that machine a fuck ton of years later, pops off, and is now living in the modern day. The idea here is, that we lost the hero (Layla) which caused the (just established) vilain (Basim) to do his fuckery in the modern day. But why should I care? Basim was basically nonexistent in the basically nonexistent story and suddendly I should feel sad or shocked, because he's in the modern day? Is this supposed to be intriguing? And yeah, Layla is "gone". Layla, who had no character building over three fucking games. Why should i be bothered? Why should I care about anything that just happened? Remember when a side character (Lucy) died in AC Brotherhood? That was intriguing. Why? Because they built her as a character we (Desmond) trusted, even though it was in the modern day (which no one really cares about in AC). And this is why Valhalla broke me and Odyssey didn't. Valhalla failed to make me care on a much deeper level. It's just a lot of nothingness. Empty characters in a nonexistent story. And by nonexistent, I mean non-built at all. When I play the game now, I have no actual reason, and throughout the game never actually had any actual reason, to continue. It was a chore. I didn't bother if after three hours of grind I would eventually get a mini-snippet of a husk of a story, and neither do I care now. Everything in

this game is so devoid of sparking curiosity and screams of lacklusterness to the point where I don't even know what I have actually expierenced. For fuck's sake Ubisoft, make me care again. At least once in 40 hours.

May I sum up Valhalla's "story" and content in the glorious words of Catherine Tate: Am I bovvered? The answer, sadly, is a holistic no.

[patrick-hockstutter]

Modern!Bowers Gang:

Patrick:

Really into cinematography and photography of the unsettling

Never captions his Instagram posts

Goes live on Instagram a lot, even though people really wished he wouldn’t

Makes art out of dead animals or animal bones he finds

Think Banksy, but with roadkill

He’ll take some (somehow) tasteful photos of them, post them, then leave the scene there for some unexpecting bystander to find

Has a nosering (fight me)

Never uses incognito mode

If someone happens to stumble upon his search history, he’s not paying their therapy bill

He likes reading smut more than he likes watching porn

A ps4 guy

Loves spooky games like Resident Evil, Silent Hill, Until Dawn and Death Stranding

He’s not really into school, but he surprisingly reads a lot when he’s alone in his room

Only about things he likes though

Abnormal psych, criminal psych, and sometimes some zoology (u kno y)

Watches serial killer documentaries like he’s paid to

Listens to grunge, nu metal, and 80s alt

Won’t admit it, but sometimes listens to Joji

He’s not super into emo music, but he’s the only one who will listen to it with Victor (he fckn vibes to Brand New)

Ironically uses a Zune

Has an Android but lowkey wishes he had an iPhone

Doesn’t have a computer, just jailbreaks/hacks the school issued laptop

Has a black line tattooed around some of his fingers, one of his wrists, and the shell of his ear

Has a foot tattoo

Has a fucking Juul

Watches LeafyIsHere on YouTube (tell me I’m wrong)

Spends too much time on Reddit

Wears flannels, skinny jeans, and Vans (a beanie if he’s cold)

Mostly cycles through the same three or four outfits

Wears the same pair of Vans every single day

Victor:

Big into aromatherapy

He uses lavender soaps and has an essential oil diffuser in his room

Uses incognito mode to watch Vampire Diaries

A Nintendo ass b i t c h

He has the gray Switch Lite

He brings his Switch with him everywhere (yes he’s that guy)

But what else are you gonna do when you wanna ignore Patrick?

Watches conspiracy theories about ghosts, cryptids, and aliens

Also big into podcasts (mostly true crime and conspiracy ones)

He listens to them on his headphones while he takes walks or draws

Posts his drawings on Tumblr

Does art streams on Twitch when he gets really bored

Has an eyebrow piercing (but it’s a small stud one, not a ring)

Has little tattoos on his hands

Wears bomber jackets, skinny jeans, joggers, army jackets, converse, and combat boots

The boy has style okay

Had an emo phase but still listens to the music (especially Tiny Moving Parts)

The emo phase was pretty short because Henry made fun of him so much

He just fucking liked MCR and Taking Back Sunday a lot, okay?

And Pierce The Veil and Sleeping With Sirens, but he doesn’t readily admit that

Now mostly listens to new wave, synth pop, and lofi hiphop

His favorite bands are Drab Majesty and Choir Boy (look up their new album btw)

Has a black iPhone and a space gray MacBook Pro

Uses Apple Music

Vapes, but only fruity flavors

Watches BoJack Horseman

Doesn’t really eat fast food but never passes up an M&M McFlurry

Paints his (and Patrick’s) nails black

One time Patrick caught him doing a facemask, so Patrick put one on and started chasing him around screaming as a joke

Cue: hmm… this feels kinda good tho

So now Victor and Patrick have secret mini spa days

Drives a Subaru

Belch:

Makes Spotify playlists like he’s paid to

He’s just really good at putting songs together

He tried to get into music theory, but he wasn’t one for actually making his own songs

Really into metal (obvi) but also likes some classic rock and punk stuff

Has records hung up side by side all around his room where the wall meets the ceiling

Still buys CDs

His Instagram feed is full of vintage cars and custom import cars

Fast and Furious is his favorite movie series

His favorite shows are Sons of Anarchy and The Walking Dead

But he also loves early 2000s comedies

Has a mini projector to watch movies on his room wall

Wears band tees, flannels, jean jackets, Carhartt stuff, d a d  h a t s

Really wants a tattoo but always gets nervous

Uses incognito mode to watch porn and buy some of his band tees from Hot Topic

Only one in the gang that uses Facebook (Mama Huggins made him so he could keep in contact with family)

Follows a few meme pages but also some cooking ones so he can send his mom any cool recipes he finds

Victor lowkey makes fun of him for actually using the Facebook page

Invests money in really good headphones and car speakers

Has a black iPhone

It’s always at 20% battery cause it’s always connected to his headphones, Bluetooth speaker, or car stereo

Him and Victor FaceTime when they’re bored

Sometimes they won’t even say much, they just like the over the phone company

Doesn’t smoke, but sometimes hits Vic’s vape

A social vaper if you will

Watches Idubbbz and Filthy Frank on YouTube

His favorite fast food place is Wendy’s

Not really into video games but fucking slays at Guitar Hero

And when Rock Band came out nobody saw him for like two weeks

Has a black Hydroflask with band stickers on it

Henry:

He plays a lot of Xbox

Mostly Halo, COD, Destiny, any first-person shooter really

Baits people on Xbox Live cause he thinks it’s hilarious

He’s also a fucking cyberbully but we all expected that

Has Victor’s old iPhone

Never fucking charges it

He’ll text you back in 3-5 business days (if at all)

And if you try to call him he’ll block your number

Plays iMessage games like cup pong and 8 ball with Belch

The only social media he uses is Snapchat and Tinder to look at girls

In one of his Tinder photos he’s holding a fish (srrynotsrry)

Doesn’t really listen to too much music

He doesn’t dislike music, just usually prefers to do things in silence

His mind is chaotic enough, he doesn’t need background noise

But he will listen to Cigarettes After Sex and TV Girl on a really low volume when he goes to sleep

Uses incognito mode to pick and choose random soft or angsty songs that he likes to put into a bedtime playlist

Otherwise just listens to whatever Belch listens to

Has a tattoo on his wrist

Takes a lot of drives into the countryside/national forests/mountains with Belch

Takes a lot of scenery photos, but never posts them anywhere or shows anyone except Victor

Still smokes cigarettes (he thinks vaping is douchey)

Watches South Park and American Dad

If he’s willing to spend money to go see a movie, he’s going to an IMAX theater

Sometimes he likes 3D, but most of the time it just hurts his eyes after a while

Longboards everywhere

Needs prescription glasses but refuses to wear them

They’re mostly for reading, which he doesn’t do anyway

But he does listen to audiobooks sometimes

Likes Frappuccinos but will kill you before you find out

He orders them through Uber Eats under a fake name so nobody will find out

BONUS: all four!

Victor still has his childhood GameCube that they play Mario Party, Mario Kart, and Melee on

Henry is banned from playing Mario Party after breaking a controller while beating Patrick with it

Patrick only ever picks Waluigi in Mario Kart and everyone is sick of it

When they play Rock Band Patrick is on bass, Henry plays guitar, Belch absolutely slays the drums, and Vicky boy sings his lil heart out

One night a week they order a shit ton of Dominos and make a drinking game out of watching Vine compilations

Victor does everyone’s birth charts

They collectively made a fake Tinder account on Patrick’s phone and catfish guys with it

They all try to one up each other doing vape tricks yikes

They buy bags of chips and candy from Costco and lounge around eating them on weekends

They’re banned from the city metro busses because Belch’s car was in the shop for a week and that week was hell for every bus driver in the city

[pathofcomets]

soldier, keep on marching on (3)

fandom: mass effect andromeda

pairing: (eventual) jaal/ryder

summary: Sara Ryder will replay that moment before she died for the first time many times afterwards.

playlist: spotify

Sara didn’t image that mourning a death will take so many celebrations. Doctor Carlyle takes her through the basics regarding her new connection with SAM, a voice now ever-present, experiences always shared. But the Nexus staff – her bosses now, she thinks – are quick to celebrate the new Pathfinder and the return of the human ark. She sits through the speeches, feeling her skin crawl with how much she despises everything. She wants to curl up in her dad’s bed and cry. Scott has still not woken up. Cora is upset with her now, over a situation she had no say in. She gets it though: working your entire life for something, and see a good-at-nothing fledgling take over instead.

And she hates Foster Addison, with her cutting words and the superiority complex that has no backing. Director Tann at least knows his limits and apologizes when he’s wrong, though he seems to keep an air of superiority that irks Sara more than the direct aggression of his human counterpart. Kandros is too busy with his teams to pay too much attention to her, though he is nice whenever she passes by his office. Kesh though, Kesh could become a friend, because she is the only one who takes the leftover Ryder seriously. Like someone who is here to get things done, as much as anyone else.

Of course, Sara has not been trained for any of this. But she is her father’s daughter, and when thrown in the midst of Eos with only a new crew that she has no idea how to make her friends, she picks up her gun and carries on. She takes Vetra and Cora – one because she has no idea what she’s capable of, and the other because she knows exactly what she’s capable of. There’s still some stiffness and awkwardness between them, but in the middle of a battle, it won’t matter.

It goes away when the Pathfinder jumps in the middle of a battle, her shields trembling all around her as bullets fly off, trusting her team to have her back. Later on, Vetra will attribute it to the fact that she’s never been in actual combat – just the training on the Citadel. Because Sara Ryder has no regard for her well-being, accepting chips in her armour if it gets her closer to a clean head-shot. Adrenaline junkie like her father and brother, Cora will say. But for Sara, this is just the way she knows how to fight: straight through the enemy lines, no pain no gain. And because the others are the veteran fighters, they learn to accommodate the erratic battle style of their Pathfinder. In the middle of a battle, the only thing that matters if they end up alive on the other side.

“You fight like that; you win the battle. Not sure if you’ll last to see the entire war through, though,” Vetra chastises when they’re going through broken armours and containers.

“It’s the only way I know how,” Sara replies, but so frustrated that she is close to tears.

She loved sniper training, once, when she was young: but when enemies drop from the air, when beasts are unleashed on her, she can do nothing but hope she has enough bullets in her gun and shoot. She has no idea how to properly fight, her body just goes on auto-pilot, survival being the only thing that matters. That she’s brimming with anger, which numbs the cut of the bullets or the itch of a bite, then that’s the bonus.

Still, her fighting is no more erratic than that of Nackmor Drack. He’s a legend between his people, SAM lets her know – and apparently an acquaintance of Vetra. Sara knows, immediately, that she wants to fight by this man’s side, though he is wary of the Initiative. She understands why, because after seeing the state of the Nexus, she wouldn’t want to be associated with it either. Too bad she has no choice in the matter, their insignia over her suit, her ship flying in their name.

The truth is, Sara is not doing anything in the name of the Initiative, but in that of her family. Whatever the Pathfinder may mean for the Nexus, for humanity – for her it’s the last few links she has with her dead parents and her comatose brother. She pushes forward, fighting Remnant and Kett alike because if she’d stop, the Ryder name would not go on, all the work of her parents would be for nothing. She cannot let that happen now, on the other side of the universe, when they tried so hard to make it happen in the first place, when they threw away not their own life, but that of their children as well. Her mother died because of her work, not before she had her son born with biotics. Her father died for his work, not before passing over his title and responsibilities to his daughter. They were always making sure to share things equally between the twins.

If Scott were to wake up, he’d say it’s not fair that she’s got a head start, while he is still sleeping. Sara closes her eyes against the churning sun, in the middle of the desert, and tries not to think how far away a world in which she heard his voice is. Then she fights more Remnant, preparing to start up vaults and terraform worlds.

She’s pretty sure that’s not in the job description. She’s pretty sure she’s not even being paid for this job. But she has no choice. If she stops to question it, if she stops from running around, listening to SAM, uncovering the secrets of the Andromeda galaxy, then no one else will survive. This is a life and death matter, for four different species.

Why on Earth did Alec Ryder think that his historian daughter would be fit for this? Even her schooling is nothing compared to Peebe’s bright curiosity – and she allows her to join them in revving up the Remnant technology because SAM cannot know absolutely everything, only guess.

She remembers the dust, coming to swallow up intruders, and as she runs for the door, air burning her lungs, stinging at her eyes, Sara Ryder loses herself inside her own mind. Her body works on its own, at saving her, and she crushes into Vetra’s hard shell when finally, the door closes shut behind them, rendering them safe. She rubs at her nose, silently accepts Cora’s outstretched arm to stabilize herself.

She has run away from something like this once before. She lost her father to it. In her gaze, the others can read this painful truth, and know that wherever the Pathfinder is right now, it’s not here with them anymore.

SAM’s voice is soothing inside her brain, familiar enough not to panic her even further, but firm enough that she snaps out of it. Of course, they managed to terraform Eos. It’ll take months, years, maybe even decades before the effects will show, but the planet is now habitable. The sun won’t burn off layers of skin anymore, though the desert heat remains almost unbearable, the mind playing tricks in the scorching rays.

“An outpost?” Cora asks, because that’s the actual Pathfinder procedure, that’s what they’ve been sent out to do, at the end of the day.

The rest is just making sure the people she’s sending out won’t die anymore.

[faulty-writes]

Do you do soulmate AUs? If not, then feel free to ignore this, but could I request headcanons of pro-hero Mirio and Tamaki (separately) finally meeting their soulmate, another pro-hero and a well known one in America... but she's also infamous for being exceptionally brutal towards villains to the point where she's The Dreaded. She's even traumatized some of them. And on top of it all, she's a strong silent type, not very expressive either. But as soon as they meet her, despite knowing (1/2)

all about her reputation, all Mirio/Tamaki wants to do is make her feel soft inside, make her feel small, warm, and cared for like she's never ever felt before (because that brutality had to come from somewhere) and maybe make her NOT want to make the villains cry uncontrollably when they see her. Thank you for reading all this - I absolutely love the way you write both of these boys. I just wanted to add that, and have a nice day!

Your submission came in two parts. But ...let’s see what I can do. 

Mirio Togata 

The moment he saw you, he knew his search was over. There was more to this world than quirks and his soulmate calling led him directly to you. Of course, it had been a rough start between you two. After all, he was sunshine and you were ...less than that. But that wasn’t any excuse, Mirio knew you were his soulmate and he knew he loved you and he knew that you needed his help. Especially considering your well-known reputation.

But you wanted nothing to do with Mirio. Despite the fact you knew you were soulmates, you refused to believe it. You couldn’t let anything ruin your hero work, even if it meant pushing away the one person that was truly meant for you. But no matter what you did to Mirio, he didn’t run. You could scream, insult him, push him but he didn’t leave.

One day, he ended up cornering you after you had apprehended some villains that ended up sobbing as the police arrested them. “Come on! I know my sunshine isn’t this mean and cruel! Sure villains might deserve bad treatment for what they’ve done, at least to some degree. But that doesn’t mean you have to be the one to give it to them!” he tried to reason with you, but you only rolled your eyes. “Back off Togata before you end up with a black eye!” you huffed and once again pushed him away. But his words stuck with you. 

You hated yourself when you realized that not only his words stuck with you but that you were attracted to him. You had tried to solve this problem by creating distance between yourself and him. But you quickly found out that Mirio wouldn’t allow that. “I don’t care what your reason is! You can’t just push away someone you love!” he snapped, “I won’t let my sunshine do that! I love you and you’re just going to have to accept that.” he dared to grab your hands which were trembling, just eager to hit him. 

You hated how it seemed your stubborn nature was fading, was this what love was? You denied it for the longest time, but you couldn’t stop thinking about Mirio. His voice, his gentle touch, the fact that he wasn’t afraid to approach you. Why ...Why was he so different? He certainly was a sunshine boy and he was your soulmate, that much you had come to accept. But how could one person change your life so much?

Your normally brutal approach to the villains changed, every time you were in combat the thought of Mirio crossed your mind and it somehow made you want to be a better person. You had never thought someone was capable of changing your heart, making you feel so small. But Mirio thought nothing less of you, “It’s okay to be vulnerable sometimes, especially around the people you care about. I’m really proud of you though and I promise, no matter what you do. I’ll never give up on you. You’re my tough little sunshine and you always will be.” he said with a chuckle and barely avoided the punch you threw. 

Tamaki Amajiki 

His first impression was that you were scary and he was afraid of you, even though he had barely said anything when you first met other than. “H-Hi ...uh, I-I’m T-Tamaki Amajiki and w-well I uh, t-that is t-to say um ...” your glare quickly ended his sentence and he slowly walked over to a nearby wall and leaned his head against it. You found his behavior a distraction and didn’t care much for what he had to say. If he was a fan or just a random admirer of yours. It didn’t matter. 

You were almost certain you wouldn’t see him again, but fate had other plans and you ended up meeting him once more when you were invited to the Pro Hero Festival. You rolled your eyes as he approached you, trying to deny that calling you felt deep within but it seems like Tamaki was willing to admit it first. “I ...y/n, um I k-know you d-didn’t r-really like m-me much l-last time b-but uh, w-well you f-f-feel that ...c-connection d-don’t you?” you jumped, cursing under your breath. “You know my reputation don’t you?” you hissed in response before walking away. 

But he was persistent, not willing to let the fact you were soulmates go. That’s what annoyed you the most, he continued to show up regardless of your intimidating words. You knew he was easy to scare away, but you never thought he’d snap back at you. “S-Stop it!” you hissed as he dared to grab your shoulders, “I d-don’t know why you s-say these m-mean things! I g-get you’re s-scary and i-intimidating and m-maybe I’m n-not what you e-expected b-but ...I s-still ...I s-still l-love you ...y-you’re my s-soulmate a-after all ...” you hated how his words seemed to stir an unknown emotion in you. 

You couldn’t stop thinking about his confession, why did he love you. How could he love you? Despite trying to convince yourself it was nothing more than a trick, that his words meant nothing. He seemed so sincere and you hated it, you were strong. Tough, nothing, and no one could make you feel something you didn’t want to yet. Tamaki was different, but he couldn’t possibly love you and you wouldn’t believe it. 

You began to start fights whenever you saw Tamaki from then on, despite the disgusting warm feeling you felt inside. It distracted you from your work and you ended up apologizing to a villain for punching them too hard. What was wrong with you? You had gotten so angry that you tracked Tamaki down only to scream at him. “This is your fault! I was fine before you came into my life so just leave me alone! I hate you! I don’t want you!” you snapped, feeling almost happy when you saw the pained look on his face. It stayed with you weeks after. 

You tried to pretend you felt relieved but the truth was, you found yourself missing Tamaki. Damn it. You tried to push the feeling down but somehow you found yourself searching for him again. But it seems that Tamaki wanted the same thing and you ended up running into each other, “Listen, you son of a bitch-” you began but Tamaki cut you off, “N-No you listen!” he surprised you at that moment. “I-I’m giving this m-my all ...a-and I w-won’t give u-up, I m-might be shy but I h-have a voice too.” he grabbed your hands. “S-So ...please, g-give me ...g-give us a c-chance.” he pleaded and despite your fears, you gave in. 

[squadrablog]

Now hear me out: (Non-binary reader x Hot Pants) Reader has a stand that can read people’s souls, sort of like an aura and gets curious about what they see on Hot Pants, extreme guilt (we all know what happened to her brother right?). They follow her around awhile through the race trying to see what up with her and slowly befriends her along the way. Reader also has no combat experience so H.P. has to save them a few times but she still lets them ride along with her because they’re nice.

Finally finished it! I keep it free of most major spoilers for Steel Ball Run. I also decided to make Hot Pants a trans woman as per my wife’s request, and both your and her conception of gender is like... affirmed but also contemporary with the time period and understood through the lens of what would be available in the 19th century.

Hot Pants x Nonbinary Reader

Ao3 Mirror Here.

Words: 8414

Warnings: Really light body horror (just Hot Pants’s Cream Starter), and mild violence + animal death. Light angst.

Under cut for length!

Something happened to you in the desert during that last stage.

You had barely escaped with your life from what you had rationalized was a sinkhole, or a sandstorm, or maybe one of those hallucinations of an oasis people have when they’re on the verge of dehydration, although you hadn’t been tricked into seeing water but rather large arching natural rock formations around a smooth bowl shaped crater. Before the ground swallowed the whole landmass up and buried you in a tomb of sand you managed to guide your horse away from the danger, but not unscathed.

While you and your horse had managed to avoid a terrible death with only minor physical injuries, after you had set up camp you started to realize that something was wrong with you. As you fed the fire you realized despite the growing warmth, your hands were shaking. You were in something of a daze, and you kept seeing things out of the corner of your eye, causing you to jump and yelp and call out to any possible intruders only to hear no answer. You could tell your horse was starting to get a bit jumpy too. Could she sense the strange presence as well?

No, she could not. She was reacting entirely to your stress. You were making her nervous... concerned for you, even? Yes… concerned. Was that too human an emotion for her to feel? Were you projecting onto her, anthropomorphizing her to cope with your current mental state? You were close to her, sure, and you could pick up on her body language better than anyone. But this feeling you had watching her now was so strange, as if you were looking past those usual outward displays you used to read her and were seeing something else. Almost as if she was whispering to you in a language only you could understand… or you were at least hearing an interpreter whisper for her.

You screamed again when you saw something in the corner of your eye. It was a hand, translucent and only vaguely human, hovering right above your own, but when you turned to look at it, it was gone. 

The near-death experience had been pretty traumatizing. You cursed yourself for following after that Gyro man in some attempt to get the edge on the competition; he might have been reckless and unconventional in how he had approached the race so far, but he had the skill to back it up. You weren't bad on a horse by any means, but the rough terrain and constant toughing it in the wilderness was way harder than you had ever imagined, and it was taking its toll on you. From here on out you would take the paths that the majority of the other racers were using and not get tempted by every promise of a shortcut from some eccentric rider playing loose and fast with life and death.

You apologized to your horse for scaring her again before crawling inside your bedroll and covering your head, shutting your eyes tight, willing yourself to sleep and leave these phantoms behind with the night. Come morning you’d be better.

And come morning, you were better.

For a while.

When you were riding with your horse alone in the wilderness, finally comfortable in the safety that the main course provided, you felt ecstatic. You loved horse riding of course, you wouldn’t be doing this otherwise, but something was different today. You and your horse were in perfect sync and you swore you felt as energetic and driven as if you were her yourself. If this was going to be the tone for the rest of the race then you’d have no problem leaving your waking desert nightmare long behind you.

When you saw the checkpoint in the distance you became even more excited, rushing ahead with all the energy your horse had been saving up for this point. You probably weren’t first but you were absolutely giddy at the thought of crossing another checkpoint. The closer you got, the more excited you were, until you realized something definitely felt off about everything.

Your excitement was starting to make you jittery. Frantic, even. The closer you got to the crowds of people cheering at the top of their lungs the shakier your breathing got. You didn’t have a problem with the crowds before the race, so why now?

Your horse of course picked up on your stress and you felt it magnified back towards you worse than before. You weren’t sure what was worse, the joyful excitement that threatened to drown you, or the anxiety feedback loop between you and your companion.

When you crossed the finish line you didn’t even listen for the announcer to try to figure out what place you were in. You dismounted your horse, tied her to a hitching post, and stumbled as best as you could towards the food and water table set up for competitors. All you needed was some cold water to ground you, that’s all. Maybe you were still shaken up from last night and it had just chosen a bad time to boil back up to the surface.

You practically fell over, stepping back suddenly, when another hand that wasn’t yours extended from your own to grab at a cup of water you were reaching for. It was the ghost hand from last night, only this time it didn’t disappear. To your horror it actually grew out of you until it was an entire creature, humanoid in shape but alien in appearance.

You looked around frantically at everyone in your vicinity, but all they did was raise their eyebrows at you in confusion, looking at you like you were out of your mind. Could no one else see it? You could only faint from the shock.

---

When you woke up you were in a medical tent, but you felt no relief when upon scanning the room for any staff members you once again met the gaze of the ghost that had put you here to begin with.

“What are you!? What do you want with me?” you demanded, only to receive no reply.

“So you do have one,” an intimidating voice called out behind you. Your head snapped back and you saw an androgynous stranger dressed in hot pink sitting in one of the chairs by the tent’s entrance, staring at you with an apathetic expression. The words seemed less directed at you and more just the stranger musing out loud.

Despite what must have been a conscious attempt from the stranger to disguise any secondary sex characterisitics, you knew right away she was a woman. You knew it before your eyes had even adjusted to get a good look at her. You suddenly knew a lot of things about her that you had idea how you knew. Her face was entirely unreadable and gave nothing away, but it didn’t need to.

This woman was a cosmos of warring emotions that threatened to rip her apart from the inside. How could she sit there and look so calm when she was currently drowning, burning, and crumbling before your very eyes? Shame, fear, despair, grief, an ocean during a storm.

You had many questions fighting in your mind for permission to be asked first. Who was she? Could she see the ghost? Did she know what it was? 

“Are you… are you okay?” you sputtered out instead. Her overwhelming aura had won out against all your curiosity.

She raised an eyebrow. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

You couldn’t articulate why you had asked her that unprompted, but there was no way you were just projecting emotions this time like you had with your horse. These were human emotions from a human woman that were attacking your human mind. You clutched your head and winced in pain.

“What’s happening to me?” you choked out, the beginning of sobs starting to form in your throat. “What are you doing to me?”

The ghost that had been watching you with curiosity this whole time floated up to you, placing its hand on your shoulder. Your instinct was to flinch, but now something else was overwhelming all your senses. You didn’t notice at first, but this ghost had a mirror where its face should be, and now that you were staring at it you could only see yourself. Then there was a gentle calm, a bright light snatching away your vision, and a sudden realization.

This thing was you.

Although you were spared the continued assault of the stranger’s emotions, your now exhausted body drifted off once again.

When you woke up again it seemed as if not too much time had passed, as the announcer’s voice could still be heard calling out race results in the distance and the lighting in the tent hadn’t changed much. You sat up again and glanced around. The ghost was gone, and so was the woman. It hadn’t been a dream, had it?

Well, if there were no nurses available to check up on you before heading out you supposed you’d make your leave. As you popped out of your own tent and glanced into the others you passed by you supposed you could understand. While you had fainted most of the other people needing medical attention had some pretty nasty injuries from the race. After finally leaving the medical tents behind you saw a familiar (and very much not a figment of your imagination) pink figure in the distance, preparing to mount her horse.

She wasn’t getting away that easily! You ran to intercept her, unsure of what to call to get her attention, settling on just, “Hey! You!”

She turned towards you as you approached, and without a change of expression she went back to readying her horse. “You’re awake,” she stated, matter of factly.

“You left before I could talk to you!” you wheezed out, catching your breath. “You didn’t explain anything!”

“I don’t have anything to explain,” she replied flatly, still not turning to look at you as she untied her horse from the hitching post. “But if you have something to ask I suggest you ask it now.”

“But you were waiting for me to wake up! And you know about the ghost that I saw, right? And… when I looked at you before everything got all… weird and dark…? But it’s not like that anymore! Did you fix me?”

“I saw you out in the desert,” she replied, ignoring your questions. “You found the same rock formations I did, didn’t you? No one else could see the thing you call a ‘ghost’ except for me. I thought you’d have answers, but you don’t know anything, so I saw no point to sticking around,” she explained before climbing up onto her horse.

“Wait, don’t go!” you called after her, but her horse was already trotting off. You looked around for the hitching post with your own horse and quickly got to work mounting her before trying to catch up with the mysterious woman. You pulled up beside her and gave her a big frown, but she didn’t even look over at you. “Please, I have no idea what’s happening!”

“I answered all your questions, didn’t I?” she asked, increasing her horse’s pace while you pulled ahead to match it. She didn’t, not even a little bit, but it seemed like she might be in the same boat as you. Didn’t she want to figure out what was going on? How could she be so disinterested?

“Are you being serious right now?”

“I’m always serious,” she said, finally sparing a scathing glance in your direction. Approaching the border of the town where streets finally made way to an open dirt path, her horse started up a reasonably well paced running speed, leaving you behind in a cloud of dust. She really wasted no time cooling down between stages before getting right back in there, did she?

Fine then, you’d keep pace. You’d follow her across this entire damn continent if you had to in order to get an explanation you were satisfied with.

At first you didn’t try to continue your conversation since most of your energy was placed on just trying to catch up and stay caught up. While the overwhelming anxiety you had felt in the presence of the crowded city streets had faded to background noise, distancing yourself even further was still a huge relief. Whatever your ‘ghost’ had done to you before you passed out the second time, it seemed to make the influx of emotions ebb to a steady trickle. You also felt like you had a bit more control of what you took in now, focusing your new ‘ability’ at your horse and shutting everything else out.

Whatever was going on with you at least it was making you a better competitor, more in tune with your horse than you ever had been. You were starting to realize you’d need any advantage you could get if this was only a starting pace for the woman. Once your horse got comfortable staying in line with her horse and you felt confident she wasn’t going to try to pull ahead again you called out to her.

“Who are you?” you asked. A reasonable question that could perhaps break the ice. When she didn’t answer you told her your name instead. Nothing. You glanced over and noticed the brand on her horse that read: “HP? Are those your initials?” Again, silence.

You had something you could use to get her attention, although you hadn’t wanted to start with it. Still, it was something about her that made you very curious. She was clearly trying to disguise the fact that she was a woman from other competitors, and while there were plenty of viable reasons a woman would want to do that, and she might not react well to being found out, you had to know if her reasons were similar to yours.

You wore clothing that disguised aspects of your figure and facial features, in addition to a wide brimmed hat, bulky scarf, and gloved hands. A lot of people assumed you were a man by default, but others sometimes projected different traits onto you. Truth is that you’d rather keep it a mystery, leave everyone guessing. You never felt like you fit into either the world of men or of women, but you had never met another person who felt the same way as you.

While you knew this stranger was definitely a woman, could the fact she disguised herself mean she understood too? Or was it for her safety?

“You’re a woman, right?” you asked, a bit awkwardly. You immediately regretted it when although it had the desired effect of getting her attention she now turned towards you with a glare.

“What makes you think that?” she asked, controlling her expression back to its neutral unreadable state, turning back to look ahead.

“The ghost told me so,” you said. “But you don’t want people to know.”

“It would be inconvenient, but I don’t really care what anyone thinks of me. I can’t be blackmailed,” she responded, a bit of gruff annoyance seeping into her voice. “What about you? Are you not also attempting to hide your identity with the way you’re dressed? I’ll warn you now, if you’re an outlaw I won’t hesitate to knock you off that horse and hang you.”

“Oh my God, what?” you yelled at her, taken aback. “No! I just… don’t want people looking at me, is all!”

“I’ve noticed,” she replied. “Which is why I wasn’t expecting you to follow after me.” Had she been keeping an eye on you? Noticing your withdrawn and secretive nature? You did rank decently in the first race, so it would make sense if she did some snooping on her competitors. “But here you are, after I’ve already told you I have nothing for you.”

“But... you have a ghost too, right?” you prompted. Even if she seemed to think comparing notes wasn’t worthwhile, you had to disagree. And now that you had her talking maybe you could get some answers.

“No,” she said. “But I have this.” She pulled out what looked like a… lighter, perhaps? The handle of a gun? She did take it from her holster. “It appeared after I encountered that place in the desert. It’s called Cream Starter.”

“What is it?”

“A weapon. It lets me melt flesh.”

That was a scary thought. You hadn’t done anything like that yet. “And it’s called Cream Starter? How do you know? Is that just what you named it?”

“No,” she responded, holstering it again. “I just know.”

Did your ghost have a name too? You thought about how you’d like to get another look at it since it had not reappeared yet, but simply thinking that made it materialize into existence next to you. You flinched a little, but this time you were able to keep your fear under control. You didn’t want to scare your horse again.

You gave it a quick glance, not wanting to distract yourself from the road ahead of you. It still had that same mirror face and you noticed what looked like a rotary phone embedded into its chest. Without understanding why you knew, you knew.

“Mine is called Kiss Me Through The Phone,” you said out loud, not necessarily at her. You weren’t expecting a reply to that. You sent the ghost away and spoke again to her. “I don’t exactly understand what it does, but it lets me… tell what people are like. Who they are and how they’re feeling.” You weren’t sure if she gave a grunt in reply or not, but she didn’t say anything else.

The both of you rode in silence for a while as she seemed to have no intention of trying to ditch you, but she didn’t seem happy about you following her either. You could always check to tell exactly how she felt about you riding with her, but you were afraid of feeling that same drowning sensation you felt before you were able to control what got in and what didn’t.

Before you knew it the sun was setting and you finally broke the hours of silence. “There’s an inn up ahead in a small town! Some of the competitors look like they’re stopping there for the night!” You pointed ahead even though she wasn’t looking at you and could probably already see the distant figures of three of the other top ranking competitors heading towards a town in the distance. You recognized them as Gyro, Johnny, and Diego. While Diego had been a favorite to win from the start, the other two were generating their own buzz after their performance.

But your companion did not change course to veer closer to the cliffs leading into town, but stayed on the lower path.

“Wait! The inn is at the top of this hill!” you called, as if it was possible for her to not already know that.

“Don’t let me stop you,” she called back at you, continuing ahead as your horse’s speed faltered a bit. You wanted to rest in a comfortable inn and you had already sworn to yourself that you wouldn’t follow any more shortcuts presented by other riders after what happened in the desert. But you didn’t die in the desert, did you? It was almost as if you were fated to end up there and receive this power. And now you had met someone else caught up in the same situation.

You already knew what type of person she was. She was cold, but not malicious. She was harboring a deep pain within her, something she was able to keep hidden from everyone else but not from you. She was lonely, and you were no stranger to loneliness yourself. You had kept your true self hidden from everyone since the race started, and for some time before it if you were being honest. You were drawn to her, despite the way that your stomach turned every time you imagined the terrible pain that peering into her soul had given you.

But she was the one who had to bear that pain the worst, always. She couldn’t shut it off like you could. If you couldn’t help her fight it, maybe you could at least help her carry it.

---

“Why couldn’t we just sleep at the inn and leave earlier than everyone else? Are we really saving that much time by camping a bit ahead of the others?” you whined. You had been complaining like this for a while as you helped Hot Pants set up camp.

You had finally learned her name was Hot Pants, but knowing HP was indeed an acronym had you playfully calling her that occasionally, her much to her indignation. You also saw her Cream Starter in action briefly as it managed to heal some scrapes on her horse’s legs as if they had never been there. The thick meaty substance was a little gross, but the fact that it had applications outside of use as a weapon made you a little less afraid of it.

“I’m not making you camp with me,” she said in her usual blunt tone. “You chose to follow me.” You knew she was right, but you still grumbled. It took some convincing for her to even let you camp in the same spot as her, but you had offered to share your resources and help her gather firewood.

“Sorry,” you sighed. “I’m just not used to roughing it.”

“I’m not here to take care of you,” Hot Pants said, looking at you firmly. “I won’t wait up for you in the morning, either.”

“Hear you loud and clear HP,” you said, giving her a smile. Despite the outward apathy in her expressions and words, you could be sure her hostility was mostly empty. You did try probing her with your ability just a bit more, focusing on the outer layers of her psyche without diving any deeper than you needed to. At the forefront of her mind, beyond the despair she held deep within, was a fierce determination and a sense of hope that had been overshadowed last time you looked at her soul. Knowing that she had found some distant light to strive for had you a bit relieved for her sake.

Still, as surface level as you tried to keep your readings now, you still felt a bit guilty about seeing her as you had before. It didn’t sit right with you to keep silent about it, and you felt like in the spirit of trying to gain her trust you should be open about it. After the fire was built up to a level where it didn’t need your constant attention you leaned back and decided to bite the bullet.

“HP… about when I first saw you,” you began. You were expecting her to ignore you until you got to your main point since she wasn’t very tolerant of any preamble in your conversations, but this time she did look at you with a raised eyebrow. “With my ability… I saw something really scary inside you, really painful to experience. I don’t know what it means, but I just thought you should know.”

“My soul has strayed too far from God’s light, then?” she said as a question, although with her flat delivery it sounded more like a statement. You were expecting denial of what you saw, or annoyance that you saw it, but you weren’t expecting her to say something like that.

“What? No? It wasn’t like… evil or anything. Just… sad,” you said. You hadn’t wanted to use the word ‘sad’ because it stood in such stark opposition to the unaffected aura she was trying to project, and you didn’t want her to feel insulted.

But she gave a small chuckle, quiet enough to where you almost didn’t hear it. “Just sad,” she repeated, to herself. She looked towards you with a weird kind of curious smile. “Earlier you had also said that my soul is that of a woman, correct?”

“Y-yeah… that’s how I could tell. And, I mean… if you already know it then some of your prettier features start to stick out, more,” you began, your cheeks quickly flushing a bit in embarrassment for admitting you found her attractive. You tried to backpedal. “But if you’re worried about other people finding out-!”

“No,” she said, interrupting you. “I told you already, I don’t care about that. I’m just surprised is all.”

“Surprised?” you asked in a tone of confusion.

She looked at you as if it was the first time she was really taking you in as another person, not just a competitor or obstacle she was sizing up. But before too much vulnerability could show through, she was closed off again. It was silent for a long while and it was clear the conversation was over for her, but you didn’t want to relinquish any of the progress you had made so far so you awkwardly tried to start up the conversation again.

“I’ve just never met someone else who’s tried hiding their gender is all,” you blurted out. You had thought that maybe being vulnerable about your own secret would show her you were trustworthy, but you regretted it soon after you said it. “I mean, whatever you’re doing it for is probably different, but! I was just… I don’t know… curious!”

“Your disguise is for hiding your gender?” she asked, seemingly interested in the conversation again. “It’s effective. I really can’t tell one way or the other.”

You gave an involuntary smile at that. “Th-thanks! Truth is… I don’t really like being seen as anything in particular… ever since I was a kid it always felt weird. I know that probably doesn’t make much sense to you… you probably want to know what I actually am...”

Once again, she was looking at you very closely, her face its usual neutral but far more relaxed and visibly contemplative. “No,” she said again. “It doesn’t concern me.”

While she had tried to say it the same apathetic way she had said it before, as if she really didn’t care to hear any more about your life story, once again reading her revealed a softness to her intentions. It was meant as an affirmation. You gave her a big sheepish grin in response to that, and she let out an annoyed huff before standing up and heading to her bed roll.

She said she wouldn’t wait up for you in the morning, but the next day you could tell that the noisy way she packed up her supplies was intentional.

---

“Those two took my cattle,” Hot Pants said with some uncharacteristic frustration, reaching over to one of the bags on the side of her horse to dig around for something. She pulled out two ropes and began tying them into what you slowly realized was two nooses. “They’ll hang for that.”

“Huh!? Really? I can understand being upset but don’t you think that’s kind of harsh?”

She looked towards you as if she could not possibly understand what your reasoning was. “They’ve broken one of the laws of this land, correct? Is the punishment outlined by your laws not hanging?”

You weren’t familiar with the exact word of the law, but something like that was probably true. Still, the idea that she could be so casual about hanging two men who you hadn’t even investigated yet had you pouting.

It was also interesting to note the way she said “your laws” and the laws of “this land.” She had registered in this race as an American, right? Did her origins have to do with her disguise? Or was she just from the other side of the continent? Maybe you’d ask her about it later. She had been a tad more open with you lately, although she had yet to tell you her “true objective,” which you slowly began to realize through small clues here and there that it was not winning the Steel Ball Run.

As you got closer you saw it was Gyro Zeppeli and Johnny Joestar. “Nice weather for racing, isn’t it?” Hot Pants asked casually as she threw both nooses over a tree branch. “But I’m not here to talk. Can I ask the two of you to dismount so I can hang you properly?”

Gyro furrowed his eyebrows and looked between Hot Pants and you. You just looked at him a bit wide-eyed and awkwardly shrugged your shoulders. You didn’t like the idea any more than he did. Hopefully the three of them could talk things out.

“You’re that Hot Pants guy, aren’t you?” Gyro asked before looking at you and saying the false name you had entered the race under as well.

“The two of you finished an hour before anyone else, what need do you have to kill off the competition like this?” Johnny asked, frustration as well as curiosity laced into his voice. You directed your ghost’s power towards the two men and found no hostile intentions between either of them on a surface level.

“You misunderstand my intentions,” Hot Pants said. “That cattle you slaughtered for its meat was mine. For theft of cattle the punishment is hanging.”

“Hey, HP? I think that we should hear them out…” you said, but it came out a bit more quietly than you were hoping before Gyro was speaking over you.

“Hey, hey, hey, let’s not be hasty. We only took a little bit, but only because the cow was already dead and picked apart by scavengers by the time-” he started, but he was interrupted by Hot Pants jumping off her horse with her spray bottle at the ready. You really wished Hot Pants wasn’t the kind of person to act before talking. She had already started spraying them with her Cream Starter, and while Gyro had reached for what appeared to be a weapon of sorts he was immediately overtaken by the fleshy substance.

“Ah! HP!” you yelled to try to get her attention, but she was paying you no mind, tackling Gyro off his horse and to the ground. Johnny Joestar held his finger out towards her in a gesture reminiscent of aiming a gun, although unlike Gyro he didn’t have a weapon on him, but HP was quickly spraying him as well. Soon the faces of the two men were covered with a thin layer of flesh that blocked all their orifices, causing them to thrash around sightless and unable to breathe.

You probed them a bit deeper to ascertain their guilt, since Hot Pants wasn’t going to listen to reason. As far as you could tell Gyro had been truthful in saying that they had come across the cow already dead, and deeper than that he didn’t seem like a bad person by any means. Certainly not the type of guy who deserved to be hung. Johnny Joestar was a little trickier to get a read on, and while you could tell he too was not necessarily a bad person he did harbor a deep anger and an almost dark level of determination that kind of frightened you a bit. If you could stay off his bad side, you definitely would. Hot Pants wouldn’t listen to them, but you hoped she’d listen to you.

“HP, please! They didn’t kill the cow! Gyro is telling the truth, they really did just find it like that!” you called out to her. She hesitated for a second before crawling off Gyro and calling off her Cream Starter’s attack. Just in time too, it looked like Gyro was about to hit her with that iron ball of his.

“If you say it’s true, then it is,” she said, casting a glance in your direction. “But I won’t apologize to someone who ate meat that legally belonged to me, regardless of how much they took.” She walked casually back over to her horse and remounted it.

“Bastard,” Gyro grumbled under his breath. “Good riddance.”

“Wait!” Johnny said before Hot Pants could move her horse. “Did you get your stand from the Devil’s Palm too?”

“Stand?” you asked.

“Yeah, that’s what they’re called. I got one during the Arizona leg of the race too, out in the desert,” he further explained.

Hot Pants looked thoughtful for a moment, although she remained quiet. You weren’t about to let the opportunity go to waste though, and you pulled out your Through The Phone.

“Is this ghost a stand too?” you asked.

The two men looked a little shocked at first before relaxing. “Probably,” Johnny said. “Looks like mine and some others I’ve seen.”

“There’s others? How many!?”

“I dunno… we’re bound to see more by the time this race is finished, though.”

Hot Pants was looking over her shoulder at you, clearly already content with the amount of information she had received and ready to get going. You were a bit surprised that she was actually waiting for you before going on ahead, but the thought made you happy.

“Well, maybe we’ll run into each other again!” you offered with a friendly wave good-bye. The two men looked at each other with raised eyebrows, confused with your demeanor considering your riding companion had just tried to kill them, but they offered a reluctant farewell as your horse trotted off after her.

After you had put some distance between yourselves and them she muttered out, “We still need to hang the one responsible.”

“I’ll give you some of my food tonight if it would make you feel better,” you offered to placate her.

“It’s not about the food. It’s against the law. If justice doesn’t exist out here, I’ll bring it myself,” she stated. While her convictions seemed almost a little ridiculous to you, you could tell from her aura that she did in fact abide by this black and white sense of righteousness. You hoped for the thief's sake that you two didn’t stumble upon them.

After a while of trotting along on your horses you started to feel like all the trees looked the same. It felt like you were making no progress at all, no matter how long you walked for. Eventually Hot Pants took out her compass and gave a confused huff at whatever she saw on its display. The two of you noticed some familiar figures that you thought you had just left behind drawing closer, and a small log house some ways behind them.

“Well, at least we can trust those two to help us out,” Hot Pants said plainly, pulling up ahead of you. Despite your fear from the current predicament you were in, you couldn’t help but smile a bit. Her choosing to trust those two was an extension of her choosing to trust you. That thought also made you happy.

---

You hadn’t been ready for a gunfight, let alone a stand fight. That man, Ringo Roadagain, didn’t even bother looking at you. You weren’t worth his time, and you could have honestly gotten out unscathed if you had stayed back like Hot Pants told you to. But when he aimed to shoot her you ran to push her out of the way, acting on pure instinct, and you were shot pretty badly in the process. You were out cold after that and by the time you finally came to your senses it was night time.

You sat up quickly, frantically feeling at your shoulder to assess the status of your wound, but you quickly realized that there was nothing there except a faint dull pain. You were on top of your bedroll in front of a campfire, your horse next to Hot Pants’s horse.

“You’re awake,” came a familiar voice, and you turned to see her sitting on a log, watching you, her head leaned on her steepled fingers.

“Did we… get out of there?” you asked, a bit groggy.

“Yes. I healed your wound.”

“Thank you,” you murmured, laying back down on your bed roll.

“You would risk your life to save that of a stranger?” she asked, straight to the point. No ‘you’re welcome’ or ‘how are you feeling’ or even ‘that was a close one’, as her eyes continued to bore into you. “You have no reason to believe I’d do the same for you.”

You gave her a tired smile and chuckled, which only made her eyebrows furrow in annoyance. “You could have left me back there. Even if you just wanted to heal my wounds to be polite… you could have left me behind.”

“You’re clearly trustworthy,” she said, a little too quick, as if to dismiss the idea that it was purely out of the goodness of her heart. “I need allies I can depend on, and your stand will be useful in discerning who stands in the way of my objectives.”

“Hmm… so it’s just because I’m useful? How utilitarian of you,” you said, your smile turning into a smirk. But still, did that mean she was officially inviting you along? Was she no longer going to pretend that you just happened to be in the same places she was in and that you were of ‘no concern’ to her? The mention of her ‘objectives’ also made you think she might let you in on whatever she was really in this race to do.

Hot Pants finally broke eye contact with you. “You’re a good person. And you can keep pace with me.” There she went again, dampening a compliment by following it with another less sentimental, more practical one. She stood up and made sure the now dwindling fire was fully out before she went to her own bedroll, slipping inside it and turning her body so it faced away from you. “Next time do not sacrifice yourself for my sake.”

You just smiled to yourself, getting settled in your own bedroll, which you realized that she must have spread out for you. Your heart fluttered a bit at the deep appreciation and respect noticeably radiating off her.

---

“They got ahold of another corpse part,” Hot Pants said, putting her binoculars down. “Good.” Gyro and Johnny were off far in the distance with a girl who Hot Pants had recognized as Lucy Steel. It seems as if you caught them in the aftermath of some battle, as they were looking pretty beat up, but they had managed to secure the spine. There had been some heavy rainfall earlier, but the sky was finally starting to clear up, which you were glad for.

“Why can’t we just work with them, instead of waiting to steal the parts later?” You already knew why, of course. You’d seen Johnny’s overwhelming desire to obtain the corpse, and you knew he wouldn’t give it up easily, especially not if Hot Pants was unwilling to reveal her true intentions to him. You’d told her as much before, so she didn’t bother answering your question. While you didn’t want to hurt Johnny even you had to admit something like the holiest corpse on the face of the Earth was too precious a thing to belong to any one man. The Vatican collecting it seemed the most reasonable option to you.

“Well… let’s keep moving then,” you said after the figures in the distance were out of sight even with Hot Pants’s binoculars. The two of you continued along, and as usual you were the one trying to lead a conversation. “So, you’re like a high ranking agent of the Vatican, right? Do you go on other missions as big as this one too?”

“The Vatican deploys me as they see fit,” she said, devoid of any of the juicier details you were hoping for. “Before this I performed the duties of a sister in my covenant.”

“You’re a nun?”

“No. The Church felt my skill set made me better suited for an uncloistered life. I did spend years training to become a proper sister with the idea I may one day become a nun, but once the period of my temporary vows elapsed I underwent a different type of training.”

“Secret battle nun training?” you asked with a playful smile. She just stared at you blankly.

“It’s probably for the best, in the end. I don’t think it was God’s will that I continue on as a sister,” she said, her voice lacking its usual conviction. “Although…”

“Hm?”

“It seems it is still God’s will I live my life as a woman,” she said, almost too quiet for you to hear. “As I believe it is also He who brought us together.”

You bit your lip to stifle a giant grin that was appearing on your face, although Hot Pants was not looking in your direction anyway, now lost in her own thoughts. What types of vows did a covert agent of the Vatican have to abide by? Was it wrong that you felt yourself falling for her, little by little? Could she even be with someone like you, someone who lived as neither a man nor a woman?

The more you learned about Hot Pants, though, the more you began to suspect she and you were more alike than you originally had thought, as clearly her relationship to her gender was more complicated than it appeared on the surface. You never asked outright about it; if she wanted you to know she would tell you herself.

There had been a night when in the middle of a round of questioning from you on various aspects of Catholicism the topic of Joan of Arc had come up. Apparently there were ongoing efforts to canonize her as a saint. Joan of Arc was acting under the directions of God when she wore men’s clothes, right? It wasn’t the same at all, but… was it too hard to believe that God’s plan had accounted for your circumstances?

“Well, if that’s true, this God fellow is alright in my book,” you said with a chuckle. She turned back to give you a glare as she usually did whenever you didn’t show God what she felt was the proper amount of reverence, but it was hard taking her seriously when you could read her actual feelings at any given moment.

And for the first time since you met her she seemed content.

---

“HP!” you called out, shaking her awake with one hand, holding a lantern you had quickly lit up with the other. “HP, there’s something in the woods! Our horses ran off!”

She blinked a few times to clear the sleep from her eyes before she heard the same snapping of branches that woke you up. She shot up onto her legs and grabbed Cream Starter from her side, turning towards the noise.

“Enemies?” she muttered.

“Whoever it is, they’re angry, and… hungry? Really simple thoughts. I think it’s an animal,” you murmured, positioning yourself behind her.

Your suspicions were confirmed when a bear lumbered into your lantern’s light, its eyes a bright yellow green as they reflected back eerily at you two in the dark. It stood still for a while, sizing you two up, and you noticed that Hot Pants had noticeably tensed, her hand with her weapon still held uselessly at her side.

Just like that you were transported back to that moment you first met her, before you understood your stand’s power, when you felt the weight of the entire world crushing you from all sides as you sank lower and lower into despair. All the layers between the image Hot Pants projected outwards onto the world and the deep sadness she felt at her core were gone, and you were hit with it all at once before you could guard yourself against it. 

“HP!” you yelled, clutching at your head. “HP, please!”

She was breathing heavily as she slowly turned to look at you, her eyes wide and horrified in a way that looked so wrong on her usually calm and collected face. She looked past you at something else, someone else, far away from here. Her mouth hung open with the promise of a silent shout, but the only sound she made was her panting.

“Look out!” you yelled, pushing her out of the way as the bear behind her swung its claw. She fell to the ground with you following after her, your bulky clothes ripped to shreds at your side where blood seeped out from a few of the deeper cuts. Despite the pain your adrenaline allowed you to shoot back up and drag Hot Pants away from the bear as it turned around to follow you with its gaze.

“Hot Pants, please,” you begged, your breathing just as ragged as hers. “My stand isn’t strong enough to hurt it.”

“I’m sorry,” she cried out, tears spilling from her eyes. She wasn’t talking to you, still looking past you. “Lord, I’m sorry… I’m sorry.” She repeated it over and over and when shaking her by the shoulders didn’t snap her out of it you turned around to face the bear again.

You summoned your stand and tried to think of what you knew of bear safety. Were you supposed to play dead? Was it too late if it was already attacking? Did you aim for the nose or did you try to run and not engage? Your stand was only about as strong as an average person’s strength, but you used its arms to hit the bear hard on the nose. That seemed to stun it momentarily, which gave you the opportunity to pick up Hot Pants and drape her over your shoulder as you started running away, the feelings of anger only intensifying behind you.

While Hot Pants dragged her feet initially, eventually she was able to take steps in time with your own, although she still needed your support. “I’m sorry,” she said again, although it sounded a little more grounded this time. “You’re injured.” She sobbed loudly upon finally comprehending the situation at hand. “I told you not to sacrifice yourself for me, I told you to never sacrifice yourself for me...”

“HP, it’s still after us,” you said firmly now that you had her attention. She stopped walking and removed herself from your grip.

“Keep going. I can handle it now,” she said, her voice a shaky imitation of her usual confidence.

“I’m not leaving you!” You knew she was hardly in a state to handle a bear all on her own, and you could still feel all the negativity she exuded like thick gooey tar. You didn’t want to leave her to any self-destructive impulses she may have.

“You have to live,” she said, turning back to you with a weak smile. “That bear is just here for me.”

“It’s a bear!” you shouted indignantly. “It came here for food! It doesn’t know who you are, Hot Pants! If it was a holy messenger of divine wrath I think I’d know!”

“But-” she stuttered. “My sins- I can’t-”

“I told you before,” you said, loud and firm but more gentle than your previous yelling. “Your soul doesn’t have a shred of evil in it.”

She paused for a second before turning back to face the oncoming bear, her Cream Starter raised and poised to attack. “No… not evil,” she quoted with a wavering laugh, “just sad.”

With that she was leaping forward, spraying the bear’s face with a thick layer of her meat spray and taking away any of the senses it had to track either of you. Unable to breathe or see or smell its surroundings, it thrashed wildly in all directions as she continued to spray without end, borrowing flesh from its legs which now wobbled weakly under its weight.

Eventually it collapsed and the heaving of its body as it struggled to find any air finally ceased.

Hot Pants was shaking again as she fell to her knees in front of its corpse, her Cream Starter falling out of her hand. As you tried to calm your own heart still pounding in your chest, you approached her and plopped down next to her on the dirt. She cried for a while, silent this time, as the two of you just looked at it.

“Well, at least this takes care of our food situation for a good few days,” you said at last to break the tension. When you heard her give a small laugh you were glad that you didn’t come across as insensitive. “Although I hear bear meat is pretty gamey.”

Instead of responding she abruptly wrapped her arms around you and squeezed you tight. “You saved me,” she whispered.

You were taken aback, but you slowly brought your arms to wrap around her as well. “I’m pretty sure you’re the one who took it down.”

But the true meaning of her words was not lost on you. Once again your heart was overflowing with the ambience of her inner self, and while she still held an ocean within her it felt as if the storm clouds had finally parted and the waters were steady.

You two finally disentangled and stared at each other in a contemplative and comfortable silence for a long time. She had a sweet smile on her face, and you didn’t need to use your stand to see the way her eyes were sparkling with adoration.

“I won’t leave your side, Hot Pants. I’ll stay with you until this whole thing is over,” you promised, holding up your hand to cup her face. “And I’ll follow you after too, if you’d let me.”

You leaned in slowly, giving her ample space and time to move away, but she only fluttered her eyes shut and leaned in as well. Eventually the two of your lips met in a soft kiss, almost chaste but definitely warm and just a touch desperate. Slowly the two of you backed up again, searching each other’s eyes for some help in deciphering the intimate moment, but it was clear neither of you had regretted it.

She gave you a smirk, a playful twinkle in her eyes. “Whatever you do,” she began, grabbing at the hand on her face to intertwine her fingers with it. “It doesn’t concern me.”