#me too… me too… it doesn’t make sense… they should be dead unless we are creating this whole season 2 lore and that is just ridiculous

[bleue-flora]

https://x.com/aeonmeis/status/1850880132040532410 im so confused

Did you miss the drama? CcJack joined the dsmp after he lost a bet with ccTubbo in a stream of You Laugh You lose and ccJack has to log onto the dsmp. he spawns in the prison next to the bench and calls Tommy to see if he can get OP to get out and be able to give a tour of the server but ccTommy doesn’t have op and they end up doing some lore instead, playing on the idea of how no one is around and it’s basically a ghost town and how they both miss the old times but also like dislike how cringe they were and who the old times were with. It’s bittersweet clearly fueled by real emotions they are feeling and real life events where Jack talks about being a gambler, something he says too before the lore and how he is terrible at Minecraft and much more likely to win gambling. This ends up in the chat lore implying he’s been gambling in Las Nevadas. In the chat they have, Tommy says something about having 1 life and how the nukes didn’t happened, likely trying to please his fans who hate the finale, but Jack insists they did so we are left with a loss or who to believe.

Some people, mostly the people who hate the finale, are saying this retcons the finales as Tommy says the nukes didn’t happen, but the rest of us disagree because some chat between two people a year after the dsmp is over shouldn’t undo the lore the other ccs worked hard on, as that’s pretty non consensual and disrespectful to their character’s and work... that’s a summary, feel free to see my other posts for more thoughts, clips and such.

[stealingyourbones]

Danny, being a halfa, falls under the strange category of people who can converse with the dead and act in their names. Most mediums simply convey messages. It was rare for someone to be able to fulfill a ghost’s dying request and have that act tied to the ghost’s core.

Honestly it’s annoying.

He doesn’t get any alone time anymore for homework or hobbies. The dead are constantly pestering Danny to help with their desires - which, sure, it helps them move on which means they’re out of Danny’s hair, but come on!! Give a guy a break! Just because he doesn’t need as much sleep as a fully living person doesn’t mean he can go without entirely!

“No Scott,” Danny repeated for the fifth time, “I am not flying to California tonight. Do you know how far that is? Literally the other coast of this massive continent. Meet me there in August like everyone else on the list.”

Spending the first spring break of college creating a map and calendar for Last Rites was not something Danny expected when he moved to Gotham.

Why did this city have so many ghosts?! It was ridiculous. And he thought Amity Park was bad? At least the ghosts here were mostly Shades. Not visible to anyone unless they were also dead-adjacent or had The Sight or a bloodline curse or a magical amulet… you know what? There were enough of those in this curse ridden city, why couldn’t these ghosts go find one of those people instead? Danny was exhausted.

So exhausted he didn’t notice the vigilante dropping down from the rooftop.

“Hey there kid, you alri-”

“Yeah yeah,” Danny waved a hand dismissively at the voice without looking up. “Wait in line like everyone else. But honestly you’d be better off coming back tomorrow when I’ve had some sleep.”

“Think maybe you outta get started on that sleep now, bud?” the voice behind him spoke in a calm careful tone.

One Danny had heard all too often since dying.

His head jerked sideways to stare wide-eyed at Nightwing, who tensed just a little as if expecting Danny to run or fight. Instead he let out a groan and slumped onto the park bench, rubbing his eyes to ease the burn of fatigue. He’d been coming out to this park at the corner of campus each night to keep the Shades from mobbing him all day long in classes, but they’d spread the word around Gotham that he was here and his precious spring break had become a non-stop line of requests and arguments. Made sense he’d caught the attention of one of the Bats. Should have expected it sooner.

Danny ignored all the voices around him and looked at Nightwing directly as he prattled off his usual list when someone caught him talking to thin air.

“No, I’m not hallucinating. I got all my Rogue Gallery immunizations the day I checked onto campus. I’m not schizophrenic. The only meds I take are for adhd and the occasional Tylenol. I’m not a danger to myself or others. Unless they attack me first.”

Nightwing nodded along, but tilted his head at the end.

“I’m talking to the dead,” Danny answered the unspoken question in a tired monotone, waiting for the usual skepticism or plea for help with lost loved ones.

“Oh. Okay then.”

“What?” That wasn’t expected.

“No yeah, that makes sense.”

Danny was sure his jaw was on the ground. “You… you believe me?”

“Well sure,” the hero shrugged and chuckled. “I can’t see ghosts myself but I know a couple magicians who work with one, and my little brother Robin has a ghost on his team - she’s actually visible most of the time so I don’t know if that’s a special skill or something else going on. But I’m glad you’re okay and don’t need any emergency medication. I know a couple 24 hour pharmacies that would help but it’s nice when they’re not needed. We don’t get a lot of mediums around Gotham holding court at night so you really can’t fault me for checking in.”

Danny was still floating in the relief of not being questioned or doubted. That hadn’t happened since Jazz found out his secret. She’d had plenty of questions about his halfa status, of course, but never called him crazy for talking to things others couldn’t see. Even Sam and Tucker would forget sometimes and give him strange looks before realizing he was dealing with a Shade, Wisp, or Memory.

He didn’t realize he was wobbling until Nightwing’s arms shot out to stabilize him.

Danny blinked up at the pretty face that was trying not to chuckle, held by strong arms, and so far past tired he might be getting delirious after all because his brain seemed to have lost its filter and he said out loud,

“You actually believe me. I think I love you.”

Then the horrifying embarrassment hit at the same time as Nightwing’s laughter. Which… sounded delighted rather than mean spirited?

“Well now it’s your turn to wait in line, cuz that’s the fourth confession I’ve had this week!” They both devolved into snorts and giggles, Danny still relying on those arms for balance, but when they’d caught their breath the vigilante said, “Come on, you’ve really got to get some sleep. I’ll walk you back to your dorm.”

Ignoring the whispers and grumbles of the Shades was easier with someone walking beside him.

This is so incredibly cute oml. It’s so rare to see the bats actually go with the flow and god it isn’t done enough. 12/10 immaculate, glorious.

The entire plot I can see so clearly in my mind dude:

Danny chatting to Nightwing as they walk to his dorm

Nightwing asking some casual questions about ghosts and Danny asking about vigilante work.

Nightwing informs the Bats of Danny as he might be a valuable asset in the future.

Nightwing helps free shades with Danny and he realizes why Danny is so incredibly tired all the time.

Nightwing managing to stumble into Danny every day of his break, slowly getting to know each other more and more and becoming really good friends (perhaps lovers 👀).

Wonderful stuff man ty for the ask!

[persicipen-archive]

𑑛 “ARMOUR-CLAD HEART” ﾉ MYDEI. HONKAI STAR RAIL

gn reader ﾉ words 0.9k ᯽ mydei teaches you some self-defence. reader is not made for fighting and rather weak. an awkward display of affection from mydei’s side lol ﾉ no proofreading, we die like kremnoans ᯽ FLUFF ﾉ GENERAL CONTENT ᯽

You hear a displeased click of his tongue — nothing surprising given your stance and previous pathetic tries at blocking his fist — and take a step back with your face embarrassingly hot. His fake hit was nowhere near fast nor strong, just a mere presentation of where such an attack would come from and land at the end.

“You’d be dead within a second on the Strife’s battlefield. Or perhaps should I even say that a mere thug would get through your defence with little to no preparation?” Mydei’s gaze moves all over you in a judging way, and it takes your every strength not to look away.

“I’m not made for battle! You wouldn’t see me anywhere near it. It’s just way too hot today to focus.”

Another loud “tch” escapes his lips, now much more annoyed and agitated than before, as if he has already completely given up on any hope for you. A blazing sun over the terrace is no excuse to stop the lesson, or perhaps it’s precisely because of its presence.

“Surely someone with an ill intent would wait for you to be comfortable and well prepared for their arrival, am I correct?” He snickers in a sarcastic tone, leaving a short pause to give you another opportunity to oppose him.

But again, this time not only is his attitude towards you harsh and insulting, but his words make complete sense, and they burn with embarrassment even more than the scorching heat that surrounds both of you.

Maybe you’re simply spineless and will forever be even under his tutoring. You bite your lip, trying not to appear weaker than you already are, knowing very well that there will be absolutely no use in defending yourself anymore. But it doesn’t matter now. What does he plan to do next?

Your body tenses up out of reflex only seconds before his warm palm wraps around your arm, turning you around effortlessly while pressing your back against his own chest. An uncontrolled gasp leaves your mouth as you are left immobilised in an instant and the forced proximity feels even hotter than midday, yet the one behind you pays no mind to it, completely focused on keeping you in place.

“Most people would assume you cannot get out of this hold unless you’re physically stronger than the aggressor.”

You feel every slight breath he makes pressing harder on you. Not to mention how his voice sends pleasant shivers down your spine by being so close to your ear. All the discomfort disappears the second a faint memory reappears in the most unexpected of places. The way he holds you reminds you of something entirely different from sparring.

Curse your mind, it doesn’t help to focus at all and it’s especially shameful when Mydei’s not affected; calm and composed, with a fiery spark running along the red marks on his body.

“You’ll most likely always have a free hand or two. Instead of wriggling them mindlessly, use one to press on the bottom of your opponent’s nose or even punch them. The nose is always sensitive, even under the slightest pressure.” He eases the grip around your body and demonstrates what he just said and although he doesn’t apply force at all when bringing his knuckle above your cupid’s bow, you squirm involuntarily in an attempt to escape.

But since he never lets go of your other arm, there’s nowhere to run.

“Now, try it yourself.” Yet instead of waiting for your move, his hand — armoured in golden claws, a trap for your smaller palm — grabs yours and brings it behind towards his face. You peek over your shoulder, a little afraid.

To add on top of everything, he is as serious about this sparring lesson as ever, not paying attention to the closeness between your bodies. The red lines decorating his chest seem brighter than usual, with sweat glistening along his collarbones and hair dishevelled by the breeze.

Your heart skips a beat in anticipation when you are almost certain he’s about to kiss your fingers instead, but in the last second, he inches away and brushes them against the underside of his nose. “Here. Remember this.”

“I’m sure that my enemy won’t navigate my hand towards their weak spot.” A shaky sigh of disappointment escapes your lips.

He chuckles lowly at your comment, raising the corner of his mouth in a sardonic smile.

“You’d rather aim blindly than focus on where and what to attack? You’ve just earned the disapproval of the crown prince of Castrum Kremnos.” He moves in front of you, abruptly pausing all physical contact. “Be thankful that I’m not only willing to teach you how to defend yourself but also for that I will protect you with my own strength as long as you’re near.”

He pushes a damp strand of hair out of your face, the lightest touch of his bare finger causing more tingles to travel down your spine. At the same time, he flinches when realising what he has done and lets his hand drop to his side; the victorious glint in his golden eyes changes to bewilderment. His armour rattles at the subtle gesture of humanity and betrayal of his emotionless posture.

“We’ll practice again until you gain the approval from me. Do not expect me to be lenient.” The heat spreading on your cheeks becomes a problem only after Mydei finishes the sentence and moves away with haste, surely caused by his discomfort.

A gentle breeze runs through the illuminated terrace and cools your skin. You watch him walk away without turning around (you wish he would). This feeling of shame mixes with admiration and unadulterated curiosity to stir up something completely bizarre in your heart.

A pomegranate-sweet infatuation with the prince.

[diamond-rozie]

Tim stepped cleanly inside the room, and carefully shut the door behind him after checking if anyone was in the hallway. “What are you-” Danny started confused. Tim was acting very unusually right now. 

“I’m Red Robin.” He said.

Danny stared at him for a few seconds. Tim had expected him to be more shocked, Danny wasn’t like Damian and Bruce in the aspect of holding back his reactions. He watched Danny carefully and noticed that he wasn’t even surprised at all. 

His shoulder shifted a little, and a look passed in his eyes. He was relieved. That didn’t make any sense unless, “You knew.”

It made an irrevocable amount of sense. The stupid excuses he didn’t question, the easy slide bys on things that didn’t add up. Tim had wondered why Danny never brought it up with any of them. He was always quick to call bullshit on things but conveniently never on their mission cover ups. 

“Yeah.” He admitted quietly, findling with the small screwdriver in his hand.

“Why didn’t you say something before?” Tim asked. He felt a little ridiculous about it all now, “How long have you known?” Tim’s mind went back to the dining room argument from last night and he rolled through it in his head. “Wait, Jason knows you know, doesn’t he?” Tim blurted, “That why he- why didn’t I realize this sooner?” 

“I mean I know you guys can’t just tell whoever you want. It’s a secret identity for a reason. You guys didn’t want me to know. So I acted like I didn’t.” Danny shrugged. “I figured it out when Dick and Bruce were in Amity, and yeah, Jason knows. He also knows I’m Phantom. Cass knows too- not the Phantom thing. Or maybe she does, I don't know.”

“You knew the whole time?” Tim balked. All the effort they put in to hide the proof before he came, and he knew the whole time. Wait, did he say- “You’re Phantom?” Tim practically yelled. 

Danny blinked at him, “I thought you knew that.” He pointed the end of the screw driver at him, “Why were you guys so okay with him being in the cave then?” 

“We thought he was Thomas Jr.” Tim threw his hands up, rethinking his entire career choice. “I mean, yeah he was in Amity with you, but we figured it was like a guardian ghost thing since the time Dick met him that one time when you got lost or something he was the one- holy shit, you were following them the whole time weren’t you.” 

“You thought Thomas was Phantom?” Danny laughed, finding this ridiculous. 

“Isn’t that how supernatural stuff works or something. Like, you guys are linked because you were switched with each other and because you were with the family he was supposed to be with so he turned into a protective spirit to, like, watch over you or something.” 

Danny's look of appalment only deepened as Tim continued explaining. “Who told you that?” 

“I mean we just kinda figured it out ourselves based on past experiences.” 

“Past experience?” 

“With supernatural stuff the right conclusion is always the most unexpected and slightly irrational one.”

Danny snorted at that. “That is a really bad rule of thumb.” 

“Right, then explain how you’re the ghost Phantom when you’re also human and alive Danny.” Tim crossed his arms. He was trying really hard not to over analyze that right. Did that mean Danny was dead or that Phantom was alive? How could he be both? Well according to Schrödinger's theory- not now Tim. He should make a new file for this later and then he’d think about it. Alone. In his room where he could properly freak out over this. 

“Touche.” Danny clearly thought this was funny so no need to put a damper on the mood. Especially after everything that already happened. 

This information changed a lot of things. Tim would have to refer this back to the Fenton-Masters case. What about Damian? Did he know Danny was Phantom? Probably not, considering none of them had, apparently aside from Jason. It would be almost impossible for Tim to not tell him that since they were supposed to be working it together. Tim wasn’t sure how he would take the information. Not only that, but gave a new scope to the vultures that had attacked and the monster that had showed up from the pits. 

Later. File. Many lists. 

“Do you want to come to Mt. Justice?” Tim asked him. 

“Like the museum?”

“Yes and no. It’s also the Young Justice base. It’s top secret and no ones supposed to know about it.” 

“What! Then why are you telling me?” 

“Do you wanna go or not?” 

“Is that even allowed?”

“Definitely not.”

Danny raised a brow. “Then we can’t go?”

“It’s far but we can just take the jet. It’s like 30 minutes tops. We could take the zeta-tubes but then Bruce would find out you took the zeta-tubes and then we’d be fucked. Well, mostly me. But still.” 

“Wouldn’t he find out we took the jet then?”

“He wouldn’t know you were on the jet. It’s not weird for me to be going there since it is my team.”

“What if we get in trouble?”

“We’ll only get in trouble if we get found out.” Tim shrugged, “Do you want to go or not?”

Danny considered it for a moment before a grin tipped his face. “Yeah.”

“Sweet.” Tim reached for his phone only not realizing he didn’t have it. “I’ll let them know we’ll be coming around. They’re all already there. Tell Alfred you’ll be going out with some friends and then come meet me at Drake Manor.”

Danny seemed to embrace the situation now, forgoing his earlier hesitance. “I’ll wrap up some stuff. I should do breakfast too so Alfred doesn’t think anything is up. I’ll give you a heads up before I’m out the door. I’ll take my bike.” 

“Take the long way round since the Manor’s in the opposite direction of the city.” 

Danny nodded. “What about you?” he asked. 

“No one’s gonna ask if I go in costume.” Tim shrugged, “Speaking of costume…” Tim turned to where he knew the wardrobe to be, “Let me see your clothes.” He opened the double doors in the bathroom where the closest would be and blinked at the largely empty room. “Where are the rest of your clothes?” He asked. Danny looked confused by that, “Oh,” Tim realized, “You used a second closet. Smart. Is it in the lab?” 

 “No, Tim.” He said, pacing his words, “These are all my clothes.” 

“Oh. Why?”

“This is a normal amount of clothes to own.” 

“But it’s like barely covering a fourth of your closet. And that’s only because everything is so spread apart.” 

“That's because the closest is the size of a literal barn. Why on Earth would I need that many clothes?”

“I thought Bruce gave you an allowance?” 

“He did.” 

“Is it not enough?” 

Danny balked at him. “Did you ask to see my closet just to make fun of me?” He huffed. 

“I’m not making fun, I’m concerned.” Tim said genuinely. Did Danny not feel comfortable asking for things? It must be because they were keeping so many secrets and he thought they didn’t trust him. This clearly ran deeper than Tim originally thought. 

Danny shoved his hand in Tim’s face, pushing him back. “Can we get back to the point?”

“Right.”

--- later ---

“Give it back!” 

“No, I had it first!

“Nu-uh. I just put it down for like two seconds when you grabbed it.” 

“You were gone for the whole round.” 

“Where’s the controller you had before?” 

“It died.” 

“There's a bunch of other ones in the drawer.” 

“You can have one from there, then.” 

“No! I want the one I had back.” Tim insisted. 

“No.” Danny moved so he couldn’t reach it. 

“That controller is player 1, so give it back.” 

“Exactly why I’m not giving it back.” 

“Why would you be player 1?”

Danny looked so smug at that, “If you recall, I’m actually older than you which gives me sovereign right over player 1.” He said pushing Tim away. 

“That doesn’t even mean anything!” 

“Ah, to be young and naive.” 

“Fuck you.” Tim said, tackling him off the sofa. 

“What on God’s green Earth is going on here?” Cass asked, returning from their small intermission for snacks. 

Bart rushed up to join her. “Is Danny winning?” 

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No you're not! Give it back.” 

“Get off me.”

Kon was the last to come onto the site. “Guys.” He said seriously, “Superman’s coming. And there’s someone with him.”

Tim stopped trying to strangle Danny, sharing a look of panic with his team. 

“So?” Danny asked, confused.

“Danny, you're not supposed to be here.” Tim hissed at him. “Shit. How do we hide you from Superman?” 

“It was nice knowing you.” Kon said with a sarcastic smile. 

“How far is he?” Cassie asked. 

“He’ll be here in like two minutes.” 

“I’ll hide under the couch, he probably won’t look under there.” Danny offered. 

“He can hear your heartbeat.” 

Danny smiled widely. “I got it covered.” He said, pulling himself into the small space.

Bart giggled in excitement. 

“How-”

Kon gave a silent sign that Superman was here, sending a confused look towards the couch Danny had slid under. Tim’s phone buzzed with a notification. 

Just then, “Konner?” Clark called from the Mission Room. 

The team shared a silent look. They’d just have to trust Danny had this covered. 

“We’re in here.” Bart called even though Clark would already know that.

Tim put up two fingers to silently ask Kon if there was someone else with him. He received an affirmative. This was a horrible day for prospective teammate introductions. 

“Hey guys.” Clark smiled, then confused “Why are you sitting on the floor Red Robin?” He asked.

“I was checking something.” Tim said, picking up the controller Danny had been forced to abandon. 

“Oh, okay.” He nodded, not questioning it further. “I’m glad all of you are already here.”

“Are we getting a mission?” Cassie asked. 

“Sort of.” Clark said, excited. Then in Kryptonian, “ Come .” He said to someone behind him they couldn’t see. Tim couldn’t hear any footsteps. And he found out it was because the person Clark was introducing them to could fly. And Tim also found out that Clark had spoken in kryptonian because this new person was a kryptonian. One that Tim had never met before. “This is Kara. She’s my cousin. The entire situation isn’t all clear yet but as it stands we understand that her pod, while launched at the same time as mine, was caught in an asteroid belt and was only left free recently, when it landed near the Fortress of Solitude.” Clark turned to Kara and introduced them to her in Kryptonian and then added, “ Tim and Kon-el speak Kryptonian which is why I thought you would be more comfortable here instead of the Watch Tower. Though, Kon’s could use some work. ” He teased. 

“Hey, my Kryptonian is fine.” 

“Why don’t you try saying that in Kryptonian?” 

“ My fine is Kryptonian .” Kon said confidently. 

Clark laughed and Kara looked at Kon like he grew a second head. 

“I don’t even speak Kryptonian and I could tell that didn’t sound right.” Cassie laughed. 

Tim took his turn to introduce himself to the nervous and quite blonde. “ I’m Red Robin. ” He pointed to the symbol on his chest. “ It’s nice to meet you. ” He put out a hand for her to shake but Kara just stared at it. Maybe they don’t have hand shakes on Krypton. Since Clark had grown up on Earth he didn’t really know much about the customs of his home planet for them to have learned it beforehand. 

“ Nice to meet you. I am Kara Zor-el, daughter of Captain Zor-El and the Lady Alura. ” Then she stuck out her hand like Tim had. When Tim took it to shake Kara seemed surprised by it. 

“ You’ll be in good hands here, Kara. I’ll be back to check on you later but if you need anything Kon or any of the others can get a hold of me for you, okay ?” Clark said softly trying to gauge if she’d actually be okay here without him. 

Kara started at Clark for a moment like she was processing what he’d said, “ Why will anyone need to hold you? ” 

“Oh.” Clark pondered it, “ It’s an Earth phrase. It just means that they’ll send me a message or contact me if you feel like you want me to come back. ” 

Kara took another pause to process and then, “ I see. ” And does a hand gesture that Tim didn’t understand. And neither did Clark. No one commented on it. 

After Clark left the atmosphere of the room went stale. Danny was still under the couch and they weren’t sure how willing Kara would be to not tell Clark about it. But they couldn’t leave Kara. And Tim’s phone was buzzing with notifications that he did not want to check because he recognized the haptics of the health app he had. The one that had everyone, including Danny’s, vitals. Danny, who Tim was pretty sure had just stopped his heart for the entire duration of Clark being here. Which had been a very long duration.

Kara looked between them, confused. “ Is there something meant to be done? ” 

“ How’s your english, Kara?” Tim asked.

“ Only a little . Kal-El said it will take time .” 

“ Langage harding learn. ” Kon nodded. Kara lipped his words back to herself trying to make sense of it. 

“What do we do about our stowaway?” Cass whispered to Tim. She didn’t speak Kryptnoian, but she understood enough to know what Tim had asked. 

“I could dash him out. Maybe we could spend the day together at the mall and then we’ll be best friends and then he won’t want to hang with Tim anymore because he’d rather hang out with me because I’m so much more fun.” Bart said all in one breath, his words afterwards speeding up too fast for Tim to make any sense of. 

“She’ll know something’s up. We need to test her loyalty.” Tim strategized while Kon attempted to keep Kara in conversation. 

“How? And why haven't any of the supes been able to hear him yet?” Cassie asked. 

Bart took a pause on his earlier ramblings to make Tim’s life more difficult. “Oh it’s because he’s not breathing. Isn’t that so cool.” 

Cassie shot Tim an alarmed look. “He’s a meta.” Tim said off handedly, “Can we focus?” 

“Are you aware that your brother might be suffocating to death? In fact, we may need to hide a corpse and I sure as hell would love to hear how you're going to explain that away at family dinner.” 

“Oh, don’t worry Danny’s fine.” Bart said flippantly. “Danny, if you can hear us, make the room one degree colder.” 

Tim couldn’t feel anything but Kon and Kara did. Kara eyed the room confused about the change but fortunately she didn’t comment on it. 

“So cool.” Bart whistled, lapping the room. 

“Convinced yet?” Tim asked Cassie.

“He’s an ice meta how- you know what, I don’t want to know. So how are we going to test our warden?” 

The lounge room was decorated to look like a regular living room, including hanging “family pictures” on the wall. Everyone on the wall was in costume, for security reasons, but they were actual nice pictures of the team and their mentors. Tim pulled out a batarang from his pocket, and played around with it for a while, talking aloud about random things. It only needed to sound like a real sentence since Kara couldn’t understand what he was saying anyway. Then the batarang “slipped” out of his hand landing right in one of the larger framed pictures. The impact was loud and the glass of the frame shattered and spilled on the floor. 

Cassie didn’t have to fake her flinch in surprise at that, turning to Tim alarmed. Tim adding to the performance acted shocked. Kara and Kon obviously hadn’t missed the commotion and their conversation stopped. Kara looked at the destruction of the frame, analyzing Tim and Cassie’s reaction.  

“Dude.” Bart turned to him wide-eyed, stopping in his tracks, “We’re so dead.” Kara didn’t speak english, sure, but the dread in Bart’s voice was obvious enough. 

“Why did you do that?” Cassie scolded, “That was Red Tornado's favorite.” 

Tim held his head in his hands dramatically, then he let realization dawn on his features. Slowly he turned to face Kara. “ I’ll get in really big trouble if Kal-El or anyone finds out. I can hide it, but you won’t tell will you? ” He made himself sound really worried. 

“ Won’t it be noticed? The image is large .” Kara asked. She was beginning to share their concern on her face, but that didn’t necessarily mean that she would keep her mouth shut about it.

“ Clean up can. ” Kon said in a reassuring tone. Kara looked at him sideways, clearly confused. 

“ They don’t really come in here often so we can pass it off. But you can’t tell. ” Tim told her. 

Kara looked like she was having a hard time understanding him as well. An easier time than with Kon for obvious reasons but still not an easy time. Tim couldn’t understand why since he had made sure their Kryptonian was in perfect condition. “ Pass it off? ” She echoed, confused. 

Kara must not have understood the phrase.“ Pretend like it didn’t happen .” Tim explained. 

She thought about it and nodded. “ An Earth phrase? ” 

“ Yes. ” 

Kara didn’t answer right away and Tim wasn’t sure if it was because she was still deciphering what he’d said or if she was thinking about telling. “ I will not tell Kal-El or his associates since no one was hurt and it was only a minor incident .” Cassie and Bart had already cleaned up most of the mess why Tim talked to Kara. Tim had made sure to hit the frame so only the glass would be shattered and the actual picture was mostly unharmed except for the small tear in the corner. That would be easy enough to cover up. 

Kara's body language was stiff and she was watching everything very carefully. It wasn’t strange since she had been left with a group of strangers in a new environment and she didn’t speak the local language. She seemed around Tim’s age or maybe a little older. Kara was meant to land on Earth with a mission to watch and protect Clark. This implied that she was of a status and position to receive missions. This meant she would work by a set of rules and report to a supervisor. The supervisor was likely Clark who was most likely to take responsibility for her for a variety of reasons. 

Cassie gave Tim a raised eyebrow to ask how it was going as she walked away to dispose of the glass shards. 

It would be a gamble. A deadly one. But if Tim made it look like Danny being here wasn’t that big of a breach of the rules he could convince her to keep it to herself. He shared a look with Kon. 

“ I’m really thankful, Kara. ” Tim says, smiling. He pulls out his phone and texts Cassie and Bart their half of the plan. “ We can show you around the rest of the base. Would you like to do that? ”

“ Okay .” 

“ Room fun lounge after work. Play TV on games .” Kon said. 

Kara stared at him.

“How about I do the talking?” Tim put a hand on Kon’s shoulder. 

“Why? I’m doing so good.” Kon said genuinely. Tim doesn’t respond to that. 

The tour lasted minutes and Tim made sure to bide their time well so Cassie, Bart and Danny could be fully settled in before they returned. It would take a while for Danny’s heart rate to return to normal, and it would be better that he was all there before they tried to pull this off. 

Tim checked his phone when they were nearing the end of the tour. Cassie had texted him they were good on their end. 

“ Let’s go back to meet the others. They don’t speak Kryptonian but we can translate for you so don’t worry. ” Tim said. Kara seemed nice, it was the circumstances that were a bit stressful. But that didn’t mean they should let her feel left out.

“ This is your team ?” Kara asked, following Tim back to the lounge room.

“ Yes we do missions together sometimes. When we’re not working we spend time at the base because we’re friends. ” 

“ It is nice to have friends. ” Kara nodded. 

“ Did you do missions with your friends on Krypton? ” Tim asked. Maybe he could gauge what her position had been to see how she would react. 

“ Only practice. We did not graduate from training yet. ” 

“ Going what’s there ?” Kon asked. Tim had no idea what he was saying. 

“ What dialect does he speak? ” Kara asked Tim. “ I cannot understand it. ” 

 “ We learned the same Kryptonian, Kon just doesn’t practice. ” Tim laughed. Kon understood enough that he elbowed him. “ Are there dialects in Kryptonian? ” 

“ Many. You and Kal-El speak very… proper. ” She said sheepishly. “ No one speaks that way where I am from. Only in important meetings with outsiders .” Then she paused sadly, “ Mother always said it was important to learn but I did not listen. ” Tim had figured Kara spoke so rigidly because she was nervous or shy. This explained why she was having such a hard time understanding them. 

They reached the lounge to Cassie and Danny locked deeply in a game of rock, paper, scissors. Danny had pulled his hood back up and was wearing his cowl from earlier. He had picked one of the older models that covered most of his face until the end of his nose and past his cheekbones. Danny shot scissors at Cassie, beating her paper. Bart cheered loudly, throwing his hands in the air and Cassie groaned in defeat. Danny cackled as he took the last cookie. 

“Hey, D. When’d you get here?” Tim asked for the sole purpose of silently telling the others to not call Danny by his real name.

With a mouth full of cookie, “A while ago. Who’s this?” He asked, gesturing his head to Kara. 

Tim made wide gestures and spoke clearly in english so Kara could pick up what he was saying. It would be important for her to learn. “This is Kara, she’s Superboy’s cousin.”

“I thought she was his aunt?” Cassie asked. 

Danny didn’t look nervous, fortunately, and smiled easily at Kara. Then to Tim’s surprise, “ Nice to meet you. ” he said in perfect kryptonian. 

“ He speaks as well. ” Kara commented. 

“You can speak Kryptonian, too?” Kon asked. 

“Duh.” Bart answered. 

“Dead languages are my speciality.” Danny said pointedly. Bart giggled at that. 

“ Should we build a hole by playing a game? ” Danny asked, moving on the couch to give everyone else more room. 

“ Build a hole? ” Tim laughed, “What?”

Kara looked at Danny surprised, “ You know of that? ” She asked excitedly, her eyes lighting up. 

“It’s a phrase, basically like “break the ice’.” Danny answered, then for Bart and Cassie, “Do you guys know any games we can play?” 

“ You speak very well .” Kara complimented excitedly, leaving Tim’s side to talk to Danny. “ Did you also learn? ” Meaning is he a native speaker. 

“ Kind of? ” He laughed, “ You can speak more comfortably if you’d like. ” He gestures for her to sit.

Kara seems hesitant at first, but then she says something. It sounded Kryptonian but the accent was different to what Tim was used to and he could only make out some of it. To Kara’s delight and Tim’s further surprise Danny not only understood exactly what she’d said but even responded in the same way. 

It takes a while for them to settle on a game to play given all the language barriers. Kara spoke in what Tim learned was Standard Kryptonian but would often switch to her local dialect when she didn’t know how to say things. Kon and Tim could only understand Standard, and in all honesty, between them Tim was the only one who could speak it. Bart and Cassie couldn’t speak at all. 

They decided to play charades. It was awkward and hard at first, but they all got really into it by the third round. They kept the categories simple since Kara wouldn’t know any movies. Fortunately, she seemed to feel a lot more comfortable and talked a lot more, even if it was mostly just to Danny. There were times she would make an effort to say things in english. It was really broken but they all made sure to appreciate it and tried her best to understand. 

“I’m hungry guys.” Cassie said after her turn to act out her word, plopping herself in her spot between Bart and Kon. 

“Me too.” Bart agreed mournfully. 

“You’re always hungry.” 

“Should we order Pizza?” Tim asked, pulling out his phone. 

“I want pineapples on mine!” Bart said.

“Ew. No.” Cass kicked him. “I’ll have my usual.” She told Tim.

“Like mushrooms and olives are any better.” Kon snickered. 

“It’s better than pineapples.” 

Kara looked between them curiously. 

“Danny, ask Kara what she wants.” Tim instructed. 

After hearing them talk for the last hour Tim had finally been able to pick on some of the words but the grammar of it still eluded him. 

“ Everyone, something, something, food. ” Danny said.

Kara looked intrigued, “ What, something, eating, something. ” 

“ Something, something, like, something. ” He paused thoughtfully, making a circle in the air presumably to explain what a pizza was. “Something… ” Then, he pulled Tim’s phone to face them and pointed to the picture of a pizza on the website. “ This .”

Kara looked hesitant, “ ...Some…thing? ” 

Danny nodded encouragingly, “Something. Something, good.” He said. 

Glancing back at the picture, Tim could see on her face that she’d made a decision but she didn’t say anything. “Okay.” She said in english with a nod. “Have.”

“Great!” Finishing it up, “Kon, Bart.” Tim signaled. 

“Ugh. Why do we have to get it every time?” Kon complained, throwing a pillow at Tim. 

“I’m not going because I was the one that paid for it.” 

“I’m not going ‘casue I don’t want to.” Cassie said, kicking her foot onto the coffee table. 

“But you were the one who said you wanted food.” Kon complained, already standing up. 

“I could go.” Danny offered.

“You're funny. Absolutely not.” Tim shut down. 

Kara looked at Danny curious, “ Saying, something, what? ” 

“ Something, food, something, go. ” 

In english, “...Kitch...en?” She pointed in the direction of it and spoke in Standard Kryptonian, “ Is it not there? ” 

“ No. ” Tim shook his head, “ The store cooks it and we just have to give them money and take it from them .” He was careful not to throw in phrases she didn’t know.

Kara looked confused by the concept but accepted it. 

“Wait until she finds out about Drive-Thrus.” Danny joked to Tim. 

“I’m going to go check on the left-overs.” Cassie said heading to the kitchen.

Tim checked everyone's location on his phone. Danny’s was offline for obvious reasons, fortunately no one had freaked out about it yet. But he couldn’t be too sure. “I’m going to check on our smoke screen in the mission room.” Tim told Danny, “You’ll be okay here with her?” 

“What if we get abducted by non-friendly aliens in the five minutes you’ll be gone?” Danny’s tone was serious but his face was mischief. 

“I hope you do.” Tim scoffed, walking out.

---

“It’s just one slice, Red.” Danny tried to reach over his shoulder 

“No.” Tim blocked his food with his body, “You have your own.” 

“I just want to try!” 

“No! Eat yours.” 

“You let Kara have some!”

“That’s because I like Kara and I don’t like you.” 

“But yours looks so much more better than mine.” Danny whined, still reaching. 

“Lesson for next time then.” 

“C’mon, you’re not even going to finish it.”

Everyone watched them like a sitcom while they got to enjoy their food without meddling siblings. “I will. Just so you can’t have any.” Tim shoved as much of the slice in his mouth as he physically could. He was actually already full. 

“You're the worst.” Danny said, shoving Tim. 

“And you're worse.” Tim countered, pushing him back. 

Tim hadn’t pushed Danny very hard. Danny probably took harder hits during hockey practice. Tim had pushed him just hard enough that it forced Danny to take a step back to balance himself. Which was when he’d stepped on a wrapper Bart had left on the floor. Danny lost his balance and fell. But not before hitting his head hard on the metal fridge door behind him. 

Cassie gasped in shock. Kon and Bart rushed over to check on him. Kara watched wide-eyed, not sure what to do. 

Tim quickly stepped forward, “Hey, are you-” Next thing he knows there's a whole tube of ranch being squirted on his costume. His freshly washed costume. 

Danny watches Tim’s face morph from concern to absolute disgust with a deep satisfaction and cackles like the villain he is.

“You are such an asshole.” 

“Takes one to know one.” Danny’s on his feet and Tim chased him with a packet of garlic sauce that came with the pizza. 

Apparently feeling left out, Bart decided to dump his glass of juice all over Kon’s head. 

“Dude.” Kon shouts, but he’s quick to retaliate.

“Missed me.” Bart teases using the speed force to dodge. 

Cassie and Kara, the only civilized people here, sit and eat their pizzas at the island watching them. 

“They’re so dumb.” Cassie says to Kara, exasperated. 

Kara smiles following the action with her eyes. “ How fun .” She replies and they share a laugh even without understanding each other. 

snipbit from this fic

[supercorpkid]

Would it really kill you if we kissed?

Supergirl. Baby Danvers. Kara Danvers x B!D!reader, Alex Danvers x B!D!reader, Lena Luthor x reader!

Word Count: 3125

Part 1 of 3

It’s late when the conversation dies out. Kelly is lulling Esmé in her arms, while Alex clears a spot in Kara’s bed to lay Esmé down more comfortably—even though they’ve been saying they should head home for a while now. It’s definitely late for a kid to still be up.

Kara leans in, her voice a conspiratorial whisper. “We should go on vacation.”

You’re not sure what kind of reaction your sister was expecting, but it’s clear she doesn’t get it. Lena only raises her eyes from her wine glass, Alex’s brows knit together, Kelly keeps humming softly to Esmé, and you can’t help but sigh.

“No, come on, guys. I mean it. We should do it!” She insists, undeterred. “Take Esmé somewhere different. Go somewhere nice—all of us.”

“Ummm.” You make a sound, just to break the silence that’s stretching too long.

“What’s up?” Kara frowns. “Why is no one excited?”

“Because.” Lena answers, a single word with no follow-up. You nod in agreement.

“Because what?” Kara presses, exasperated.

Alex finally ventures the real explanation. “Kara, you don’t do vacations. Remember when we tried that ‘sisters trip’ a few years ago? You left Y/N and me stranded at the airport because of a Supergirl emergency.”

“Yes, I know.” Kara winces. “I’ve been apologizing for that for years now.”

You and Alex exchange a look. “And we’ve forgiven you,” you say, almost amused.

“Heh, jury’s still out on that,” Alex mutters, shrugging.

“But we don’t believe you anymore.” You give Kara a half-smile, seeing her open her mouth to protest. “It’s fine, Kar. We know you can never truly relax. It wouldn’t be fun, so we’d just rather not go.”

It’s a terrible lie. Alex and Kelly could definitely use a break, and they’d love to take Esmé somewhere nice and different. Lena looks like she’d kill for a vacation, and you wouldn’t mind stepping away from the endless 'saving the world' chaos your life has turned into.

But if you’re honest, going on a trip with Lena—specifically—sounds like a terrible idea. Your love for Lena has grown to the point of suffocation, devouring your thoughts and swallowing whole chunks of your day. Her face and voice are embroidered in your mind, and sometimes you struggle to tell what’s a memory and what’s just your imagination.

Kara, sensing the resistance, tries again. “No, I mean it this time. I can ask J’onn and M’gann to stay back and cover, and—” She pauses at your collective eye rolls, lowering her voice. “And even if I do have to come back, you guys can still stay. Please. I need this.”

She’s dead serious, and you know it. Lena quickly concedes, admitting you all could use some time off. Kelly doesn’t need much convincing either. But you and Alex still share a look, as if remembering that time she’d left you both waiting at an airport in Australia and never showed up.

Kara looks at you and Alex, her eyes pleading. “It would mean the world to me if we could go somewhere and be normal for a few days.”

You’re the first to waver. Obviously. She knows how much you crave a sense of normalcy. But you haven’t felt normal since the day your pod crashed on Earth, taking you and Kara away from Krypton’s certainty and into this chaos. It’s not like a vacation would change that.

Alex picks up Esmé from Kelly’s arms and lays her down in Kara’s bed with a sigh. “Oh well, I guess we’re going on vacation.”

Kara’s face lights up, but before she can cheer, everyone shushes her. Esmé has finally drifted off. Kara grins, pumping her fist in a whisper. “Yay!”

The next morning, just as you’re getting up for work, Alex is at your door, munching on a box of donuts. Which is a dead giveaway that something’s wrong—she doesn’t do sugar this early unless she’s nervous. You open the door, already braced.

“Alright, what’s up?” you say, brow furrowing. “You don’t normally start your day with a sugar rush.” You reach for the box, but she twists away, holding it out of your reach.

“Uh-uh. I need this.” She says, half-chewed donut in her mouth as she steps inside. “You’re the reason we’re all going on this vacation.”

“Am not!” You sigh, wandering to the kitchen to fill your coffee mug, hoping caffeine will help you handle this conversation before your brain fully kicks in. “It’s not like I’m dying to go.”

“Could’ve fooled me.” she says, arching an eyebrow, as if she knows more than she’s letting on.

Confused, you shoot her a glance. “God, Alex. Going on a trip with Lena is about the last thing I need right now.”

“Really?” She smirks, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Because it sounds like the perfect chance to finally do something about it.”

You huff, running a hand through your hair. “Or… and hear me out… I could just not go?”

“Oh, no way! You got us into this; you’re not backing out that easily, you little shit.”

“Again, this was all Kara’s idea,” you mutter, taking a deep breath. But Alex doesn’t bite. She watches you closely, her expression softening, as if she’s waiting for you to say something else—something you haven’t been able to admit out loud. You take a deep breath, fighting back a wave of nervousness.

You swallow hard, feeling your heartbeat in your throat. “I think Kara might… be in love with Lena.”

Alex doesn’t answer. Doesn’t deny it and tell you that you’re obviously wrong. That your sister wouldn’t fall in love with her best friend, that you’re just imagining the worst case scenario so you don’t have to act on it. She doesn’t say a word.

“Well?” you prompt, a mix of frustration and dread rising up.

“Well, what?”

“Do you think Kara’s in love with her?”

Alex lets out a long sigh that hangs in the air between you—and that’s how you know. She’s been thinking about it too.

“I don’t know, Y/N,” she says gently, seeing the tears gathering in your eyes. “But what if she is?”

You look down, struggling to keep your voice steady. “Then… then I’ll just… have to back off, right?”

“Back off more?” Alex’s voice is soft but incredulous. “You’ve been pulling away for months. To the point where Lena actually asked me if you hated her.”

Your chest tightens. “I don’t hate her,” you murmur, voice catching. “Obviously. I just… it’s too hard. Being around her and not doing something about it. And just as hard wanting to.” You let out a shaky breath, pressing your forehead to the cool counter. “Please Alex, can you find out if Kara has feelings for her?”

“No. That’s on you.” You lift your head, giving Alex a look of pure pleading. “Nope. No puppy eyes, Y/N. Kara’s your sister too. And I still don’t get why you haven’t told her any of this.”

You groan, burying your face in the cool marble, and holding up your index finger. “Donut me.”

“Classy.” she says, popping one onto your finger, and that’s the end of that.

Alex wasn’t kidding. She won’t talk to Kara about your suspicions, and as for you? You can’t bring yourself to do it either.

There was a time when you would’ve told Kara everything—more than you probably should have. But these days, it feels like there’s a wall between you. An invisible one, but solid all the same.

Maybe it’s the way she loves supering—the way she lights up at the mere thought of saving another day. And you… well, you’re still trying to learn to like it. Which is worlds away from loving it.

Or maybe it’s the way she feels so responsible for you, as if she’s obligated to take care of you. Lately, she's been acting so much like a mother that a few weeks ago, you accidentally called her Alura. The awkward silence that followed was heavy. Neither of you has brought it up since.

And then there’s Lena. The real wedge between you and Kara, and the reason you can’t find the words to talk to her about any of this. She would know. One look, one slip, and your sister would know you’re hopelessly tangled up in feelings you have no business having.

Despite all these reasons not to go, you find yourself packing for a vacation on a private island. Lena has arranged everything, from the secluded bungalows to the chef she hired to prepare your meals. You’re not complaining—it’s hard to argue with paradise—but somehow, it feels far from what a ‘normal’ vacation is supposed to look like.

As the island draws nearer, the knot in your stomach only grows tighter. Because, God, it’s just the six of you—Kara, Alex, Kelly, Esmé, Lena, and you. Nowhere to hide. And no distractions from the truth you’ve been so desperately trying to avoid.

Banging on your door pulls you out of sleep the next morning. “Auntie! Auntie!” Esmé’s voice rings out, cheerful and insistent.

You stumble over to the door, while using your superspeed to change, throwing it open with a wide grin. “I’m up, I’m up!”

“Let’s go play on the beach!” she declares, lifting her little arms toward you. You scoop her up, and she beams. “Can we build a sandcastle?”

“No way! Snowman first,” you tease, and soon the two of you are belting out Frozen lyrics at the breakfast table. Alex eventually gives you a look—half exhausted, half amused—and mouths, ‘please, shut the fuck up.’

“Meet you on the beach!” Esmé yells, racing outside, with Alex and Kelly chasing after her, leaving the table suspiciously empty.

You glance up, realizing you’re now alone with the two people you’ve been expertly dodging: Kara and Lena.

“Oh. Uh…” You force a smile. “So, what do you two have planned for today?”

“Not much,” Lena replies, her voice smooth. “A lot of reading on the beach.”

For a moment, your mind betrays you, painting an image of her stretched out on the sand in a bikini. You swallow hard, your throat dry. Oh, you didn't count on images of Lena in bikinis. Damn, this trip will be harder than you already predicted.

“I don’t have any plans,” Kara interjects, snapping you back to reality. Her expression is bright but almost pleading. “Do you want to do something together? We could fly around the island, see what’s interesting.”

It’s an innocuous enough suggestion, but the weight behind her words is impossible to miss. You haven’t really been alone together in weeks, maybe longer. She’s staring at you now, her eyes a little sad, hopeful, and you can tell she’s feeling the distance between you too.

“We haven’t hung out in a while, just us.” she says, a touch of hurt slipping through, like it’s your fault—which, honestly, it sort of is. You’ve been dodging her invitations unless Alex was willing to join. Lately, you’ve relied on Alex as a buffer more times than you’d like to admit, not ready to face everything that’s been bubbling up between you and Kara.

You hadn’t planned on confronting this on the first day of vacation, but there’s no way out now. “Oh, um… yeah. I guess it would be good to know the best spots.”

Kara’s face lights up, that bright, trusting smile of hers breaking through. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Lena watching the two of you, her gaze intent and almost curious. Then she smiles too, a warm, satisfied curve of her lips that sends an unsteady pang through you.

“Well,” Lena begins, her tone light but pointed. “We haven’t hung out alone in ages either.” There’s no accusation in her voice, just a gentle reminder. “Maybe make some time for me too?”

You knew this was coming. The wall you’ve built, the distance you’ve created to keep your feelings hidden—it’s collapsing faster than you can stop it.

“I thought the point of this trip was  to not have schedules,” you say, aiming for a joke, but it comes out grumbly and defensive. “We can hang out whenever, I mean.”

“Perfect!” Lena’s smile widens, bright and genuine, making your pulse race. “I’ve been missing you too, you know.”

They’re not trying to guilt-trip you; you know that. But the sincerity in their words makes you feel raw and exposed, and you can’t help but feel the need to defend yourself.

“I’m sorry, the whole superhero thing…” You trail off, realizing you can’t actually explain it. Not with Kara right there. “And, um, the thesis for my doctorate…”

Lena reaches out, resting a hand over yours, her touch unexpectedly soft and grounding. “Hey, Y/N,” she murmurs, her gaze steady. “We get it. You have a lot on your plate. Really, it’s okay. We just miss you. You’re… you’re fun to have around.”

Fun. It’s meant to reassure you, but the word sinks like a stone in your chest. You don’t feel fun. Lately, every moment spent with them has been a calculated exercise in restraint. It’s exhausting—lying, hiding, swallowing words you’re afraid will slip out. It’s not fun to be hopelessly, irrevocably in love with Lena. It's not fun to know you can't do anything about it because Kara might be in love with her too. And it’s even less fun to not be able to be yourself around your own sister.

You stand up abruptly, plastering on a smile that feels almost painful. “Cool. I’ll just, uh, grab something from my room, and then we can go flying?”

Kara nods, visibly brightening. “Perfect!”

But as you walk away, a sinking feeling settles over you, knowing that the closer you get to these two, the harder it is to keep pretending.

You actually like flying. Seeing the world from above, watching your problems shrink to nothing but blips—it’s your favorite power, if you’re honest. When you and Kara first discovered what you could do, you felt invincible, legendary even. Like a hero in some ancient Kryptonian folktale. But the thrill didn’t last.

Before long, it became “don’t use your power—wait, please use it—be a hero—but only for the greater good, never for yourself—be a hero—save everyone—forget what you want—be a hero!” Now? It doesn’t feel half as exciting as it once did.

You both land on a quiet beach, the waves lapping against the sand, and you look around, frowning. “This doesn’t really seem like—”

“We should talk.”

“—the best spot.” you mutter, the words stalling as her tone hits you. You feel your heartbeat spike, hammering loudly against your ribcage.

“I can hear your heart racing,” Kara says softly, almost apologetically. You try to steady it, but the thumping only grows stronger as you realize what’s coming. There’s no way around it—you’re finally about to confront what you’ve been dodging for months. “Y/N, will you sit with me?” she asks, patting the spot beside her on a driftwood log you hadn’t even noticed. You make your way over, bracing yourself.

“What’s up with you, ie?” The word in Kryptonian tugs at something deep inside you, a pang of longing for home, for the uncomplicated love you shared as kids. Her hand settles on your shoulder, warm and grounding. “You’ve been so distant from me. And don’t start with the thesis or the superhero excuses. I know it’s not that.” You open your mouth, but she cuts you off. “You’ve certainly had plenty of time for Alex.”

You roll your eyes, maybe too hard. “You can’t seriously be jealous of Alex.”

“I’m not jealous,” she insists, her gaze softening. “I’m worried. You’re my little sister. I promised mother and father I’d always keep you safe, that you’d always have family in me.”

“I’m safe, we’re family,” you reply, shrugging off her concern. “I don’t see what there is to worry about.”

“This,” she says, gesturing at you in frustration. “This distance. You’re pulling away from me like I’m the enemy.”

“Kara, you’re overthinking it.” you say, feigning a breezy tone. But she’s right, and you know it. She’s barely scratched the surface, and already you feel yourself unraveling. So you get up, turning your back at her and you hear a sigh behind you.

“I know you’re in love with Lena!” she says, her voice breaking the silence in one clean strike. You go still, holding your breath as her words hit you like a blow.

“What?” You try to sound unaffected, but your heart’s stuttering tells another story.

“I know you well enough, Y/N.” Kara makes sure you know it’s on her, that she was the one to figure it out. “I’ve noticed the stares, heart skipping beats, blown wide pupils. I’ve noticed how kindly you say her name, and how fond you talk about her.”

“So you think I love her?” You finally turn around to face her.

“I know you do,” she says firmly. She won’t let you deflect this time, won’t let you squirm out of it. “I’m your sister,” she means biologically, her voice tinged with something close to accusation, almost as if she is mad you'd confide to Alex and not her. “Why wouldn’t you tell me?”

“Because—” You falter, the excuse fizzling out in your throat. “I’m dealing with it, okay?”

“By ignoring her?” she presses, stepping closer. “And me?”

You swallow hard. “Among other things, yeah.”

Kara’s brow knits in confusion, like she’s searching for some other answer, something that will explain why you’re pushing her away too. “Why me?” she asks. “I get why you’d need space from Lena if you don’t want to act on it, but why shut me out?”

You can’t answer. Not when you can barely make sense of it yourself. You want your sister to be close, you need her closer—but being near her feels like one more reminder of all the things you can’t have.

When you stay silent, her expression shifts, something like realization dawning in her eyes. But you don’t wait to see where her thoughts land.

“Well, as fun as this has been, I promised Esmé I’d meet her at the beach,” you say abruptly, stepping away.

You’re just about to lift off when you hear her voice, soft but unyielding. “We’ll talk when you’re ready.”

You take to the sky, flying to the other side of the island, hoping the wind might strip away the heaviness clinging to your thoughts. But even as you busy yourself building sandcastles with Esmé, your mind drifts back to Kara’s words—and the truth you’re trying so hard not to face. In all fairness, all you can do is think about the feelings that you hide and sit in silence waiting for a sign on what you should do next.

[six-eyed-samurai]

SUMMARY: Up until the end Isaac Foster's pretty sure he despises his new companion - you're too much like Ray and yet not. A/N: I have no idea what I'm doing and the title (translation: towards better things) probably doesn't make sense either :) WARNINGS: Can be read as either platonic or romantic, murder, death at the end

Zack thinks he dislikes you.

He KNOWS he dislikes you from the moment he discovered the withering corpses still lying in their beds and you were raiding the house, because not only did you get there before him (not like he actually planned on breaking in to that particular house beforehand, but he had to lie low for a while and no one gets in his way) but you also had that stupidly boring look on your face as you stuffed your mouth full from purloined snacks, half in, half out from the fridge. Those clothes probably didn’t belong to you either.

Stupidly boring like Ray, but at least Ray had been working on it. She even managed to pull an interesting expression for him when they completed their pact.

It annoyed him, because there was now no joy in slicing your head off. You just looked up when he entered and began complaining in annoyance, chewing methodically, eyes not even bothering to blink. They didn’t move away from him, but it wasn’t like there was any interest or curiosity in them either. They simply were.

“How does a damn runt like you even kill people?” Zack glares down at you, hefting up his scythe. You don’t even flinch at his decibel level, continuing to poke around the fridge. You looked, if not exactly innocent, then incapable of even having any murderous urges needed to slash up all those bodies upstairs. There wasn’t even a speck of blood on you, but he had his suspicions after coming across a flooding bath tub. You didn’t even have a weapon on you.

When you speak your voice is as dead as your face. He wishes you were dead but you were so boring. “Do you want some?”

“HAR?”

He definitely dislikes you. You’re so dull you actually robotically split your meal in half to share with him, but Zack had to admit he was kind of hungry and you had chips.

Your face doesn’t change when you finished eating, standing up to brush the crumbs off yourself. “Were you planning to come here?”

“Not really.” Zack wipes his mouth, scowling at how even though you’re asking a question, indicating you’re curious and you could feel (he was wondering if you were really one of those creepy talking dolls, because you certainly acted and looked like one), but you didn’t even bother phrasing your statement like a question. You really knew how to take the fun out of killing. “Just came here to hide for a while. Kill anyone inside, take over, ya know.”

“Is someone after you?”

Police and everybody in the world. “Probably, but like they could even catch me.”

“Oh. Okay.” You gesture at the back door. “We should probably go then. One of them managed to get to a phone.”

Before you got to them, Zack hears, but you’re already on your way out of the kitchen. “Why the hell should we go? And why “we”? There’s no we. I just met you, I don’t even know you!”

You stop. He guessed you were surprised at his words; you tell him your name and stare expectantly. Zack wants to explode. “Whatever! Why are we leaving when we’ve just got here?”

“I said they got to a phone…? Are you…?” Are you making fun of him? Ain’t no way. Your expression is too much of an inanimate object to be mocking him. Zack’s offended anyway. “The police will be coming soon unless you want to be caught. I know another house to hide out.”

He’s frustrated, but you kind of remind him of Ray. He’s not the best at planning ahead, so if you could…well, he’ll just stick around long enough to use you and when you get a more interesting expression (you have to, or he’ll force on out of you), you’ll be gone.

“Fine.”

Right on cue he can hear sirens in the distance. Whether or not he wants to he has to leave anyhow, but he still curses as he runs out after you, leaving the door hanging and squeaking on its hinges.

Zack still dislikes you. You’re too calm about this.

***

Zack thinks he resents you.

You were smart enough to take a little cash from every house you both paid a visit too (it annoyed him whenever you didn’t seem to give a rat’s ass about how he did away with the owners - were you not scared? Alarmed? Horrified? So he did his best to be as brutal as possible in front of you; you were a killer as well, right, but he hasn’t seen you do anything), which came in useful later on, when one day it was raining too hard and you both were stuck in an alleyway trying to protect yourselves with the reeking bins.

You turn around to him, not even affected. “Do you want shelter?”

“No shit.”

“We can go somewhere…but you stand out a mile.”

“Whatcha say?!”

Zack’s still fuming as you both walk into the ramen bar underneath the face mask you bought, glowering under the hood of the new jacket you got him as well, having been forced to abandon his scythe, not appeased in the slightest with your flat “we can get it back later. Nobody looks at the bottom of the bin.” He’s still doing his best to fume even when the food arrives, but the best he can do is side-eye you sourly because god damn, the noodles smell great and he digs in greedily.

“Do you want this?” You slide over the platter of edamame. A crease forms between your eyebrows - Zack notices it immediately. Strange and…something. He’s never seen any sort of reaction from you before.

“Sure.” He’ll eat anything, he’s that hungry. He downs the plate in a few minutes, but curiosity got the better of him. “You don’t like them?”

“Not really.”

At least he knows something for certain about you now. Zack falls silent again, slurping up his ramen while you pick at yours, face going paper blank again.

“Come on, ye should smile, dumbass. Gotta look innocent so the cashier’ll let you off easy.”

“Why? I’ve got money.”

“If it was me behind that counter I woulda thought you were gonna eat me.”

“Really?”

“Jesus, just don’t look so stiff.”

You attempt to pull your lips up in a feeble try at a smile. “Like this?”

Oh god, you’re just like Ray. Zack wants to slam his head into his bowl. You both are ridiculous at this. He would’ve thought Ray really had come back to life if he hadn’t buried her himself.

He thinks, unlike Ray though, he resents you as you both walk out after you pay (Zack’s not sure if you smiling or not smiling would’ve creeped out the cashier more). Because you’re so much like Ray and not like Ray, because he knows nothing about you and when he asks you reply in clipped, roundabout answers that just make him want to tear his hair out. You don’t even care about anything on his side either. Unless you already knew.

He also resents you, he thinks, because you get to walk in public and into restaurants without people batting an eye and now he has to rely on some robot for food and shelter. Ugh.

“Stop smiling! It’s weird, don’t do it anymore! Gah!”

“But I thought you told me to-”

“Have you looked in a mirror?”

A beat of quiet.

“JEEZ, AT LEAST BE INSULTED!” Yeah, he’s not your biggest fan.

***

Zack thinks he hates you.

Simply because even no one has ever managed to annoy him this much before. It’s been months since he first went into that house you were in and so far he has only learnt your name, you don’t like edamame or traveling at night, you’re a pretty good pickpocket, you don’t like the cold and you actually do have a weapon, though not as conspicuous as his scythe: a butterfly knife you hide in your pocket. Nothing else. He can’t get anything out of you, no matter how long you both have spent together. It irritates him so much at how good you are at evading his questions and how until you STILL don’t have a remotely interesting expression, therefore no point in killing you. It also infuriates him a hell lot that somehow he wound up telling YOU about his past, the old man, the “hospital”, Ray. You’re a good listener, yeah, but mostly because you’re silent, dead eyed and po-faced all the time. You do surprise him once though, asking if he could take you to where he buried Ray one day.

Speaking about the knife, the only reason he found out was a reason to add to hating you.

Maybe a dog had seen the both of you lurking around and started barking up a frenzy, alerting its owner. Whatever the reason, when you both were ducking around trying to avoid being seen by the neighbors after another break in you end up face to face with a wary man carrying a baseball bat, which he immediately swung at the sight of Zack.

The man was stunned and scared, so his speed was seriously lacking. Zack could’ve attacked him with his scythe. But you beat him to it.

“The hell?” He gaped at the fallen body and you standing over it, then at the knife in your hand. “You had that up your sleeve all this time?”

“He was going to hit you. I think you’re bandaged enough.”

“If you’re trying to make fun of me do it with more malice!”

Yeah, he hates you, because you made him look weak. Did you not think he could take care of himself? He didn’t need you! He didn’t need help! He didn’t need protection! Isaac Foster, wanted murderer, could take care of himself!

God he hated you so much. You’re so stupidly annoying in all those ways.

Sometimes he contemplates killing you without even waiting for that expression. It would be so easy, Zack thinks, one hit on the head and you’d fall into the grave you’re digging for the man. Surely the shock of being killed by someone you somewhat-trusted would produce some results? But you don’t even smile, laugh, cry, frown, shout, what was he expecting? There was no point.

“Let’s go for ramen. There’s nothing here except money anyway.” You shut the fridge door and drawers, making your way to crawl out of the window, but pause when he doesn’t move. “…is something wrong?”

“I’m bored. We haven’t run into anyone to kill, it’s been days,” Zack complains and lies at the same time.

“There’ll be someone,” you say vaguely, and tumble out. Your face appears behind the glass, waiting.

“Also if we go for ramen you’ll just give me all your edamame. I’m not a rubbish bin for you!”

“But I don’t want them.” If he hadn’t known you were incapable of making faces he would’ve thought you were pulling a puppy dog face.

“FINE! JESUS!”

He hates you, but Zack suddenly realizes he’ll hate it a lot more if you vanish.

***

Zack thinks he finally knows you.

Too bad it's only as the both of you are shuffled out in shackles, finally seeing each other after the jail cell separation, two doomed, damned serial killers on their way to the noose. Your luck had run out at last - the police had caught up and Zack found himself in his custody once more, this time with company. He considered escape plans again, but last time surprise had been on his side…now not so much, not when they were all aware of what he was capable of.

You didn't seem to care.

Wait, that's a wrong way of saying it. You didn't seem to care about getting caught, no, but only reacted, protested, when it came to him. You only cared because he cared apparently.

“Guess this is the end, huh?” Zack's illiterate but he's not stupid. He knows there's not going to be any trial for him - who was going to defend him, a bloodthirsty murderer, never mind that Ray had WANTED to be killed by him? It was all pretense for the papers.

Uncharacteristically you actually say something other than a hummed agreement. “I wish we could eat another bowl of ramen.”

Odd thing to say, the officers think. Zack snorts. “Dead man's last meal.”

“Maybe next time.”

“Are you stupid? We're gonna die.”

“You never know.” You're hauled away and Zack's left wondering if you had an escape plan. Your tone for the first time, however, is…sad? You probably didn't then.

He thinks about Ray and her obsession with finding a god when he's seated in the chair. Zack doubted any god out there would want him and honestly he didn't care about what happened to him in the afterlife. It'd probably suck anyway.

At least you'll be there too, he reflects, and is alarmed to find himself relaxing, relieved. He wasn't fighting it for whatever reason. Acceptance that judgement day had come?

No, just certainty that you'd be there as well, exasperating companion to the last.

You smashed a glass bottle on your father's head and stabbed your mother with it, after all. Nobody really cares about how abusive or cruel dead people were in their life though, not when it comes to people like you and him.

He catches your eye as they slip the sack over Zack's head.

You're finally interesting - your smile is peculiar and stiff from disuse but so, so you. And so, so interesting.

Too bad he's not the one killing you.

***

Zack thinks he's hallucinating.

Ray is waiting for him at the other end. He's missing his scythe. They're on a familiar road.

“I didn't think I'd be seeing you so soon.”

“Yeah well, ye found yer god yet?”

“I'm not sure. Maybe we'll find out now. I haven't really gone anywhere. Does Hell look like this or is this just the waiting room?”

“You and yer questions,” Zack grumbles, slinging an arm around her. “At least your face is more interesting now. If you still wanna die again I’ll be free.”

Ray's small smile widens slightly. “Someone's waiting for you, I think. That store wasn't there before.”

She points at the ramen store. His mouth falls open and he excuses himself.

You're in there in the flesh, quietly swallowing your noodles, cup of tea steaming. Predictably your edamame is on a different plate. He could laugh, and Zack does, long and loud cackling.

“Those for me?”

[overlordoftherats]

The people hath spoken

Now feast your eyes upon my unedited, not peer reviewed set of timelines I wrote in my notes app three years ago:

(Spoilers, miss spelling and bad grammar galore)

Presenting

TMA TIMELINE AND CHARACTER AGES BUT I MADE IT BECAUSE JONATHAN SIMS HATES ME:

Michael Shelly:

Timeline:

(1) began working at the institute at 19 in 1977 (would have been 58 as of 2016, the start of the podcast). likely died around 25 years old assuming the Great Twisting occurred in 1983 (spiraled at 51 assuming it occurred in 2009). This would be most accurate only if Gerard Keay was born in the late 70s and Eric quit by ‘82 <almost completely impossible unless we are thinking in terms of Gerard timeline 2 (the mike timeline)>

(2)began working at the institute at 19 in 1984 to replace Fiona Law after her death presumably earlier in 1984 (he would have been 51 as of 2016). Likely died around 25 assuming the Great Twisting occurred in 1990 (spiraled at 44 assuming it occurred in 2009) . <most accurate due to the idea that he worked with Eric Delano, Gerard’s father, who quit soon after Gerard was born circa 1983 (quit around 1985/1986>

Timeline 2.5: 80s and their part time hiring + lying about age (the fact this is now a part of my timeline makes me almost angry lmao): okay so, let’s say Michael was 12 years old in 1984 but he was taller and was able to pass off as being 14, so he snagged a part time, weekend internship at the magnus institute (because he lost his homie to the spiral and was like “what’s all this then). This would put him at 44 in 2016. He would have been spiraled at 18 assuming time took place in 1990 (if spiraled in 2009 he would have been 37). <also quite accurate due to Eric recalling him as being “far too young>

(3) began working at the institute at 19 in 1994 (would have been 41 as of 2016). Likely died around 25 assuming the Great Twisting was in 2000 (would have been spiraled at 34 assuming it occurred in 2009) <unsure, has little to no supporting details>

(4) began working at the institute at 19 in 2003 (would have been 32 as of 2016). Likely died around 25 assuming the Great Twisting occurred in 2009. <semi accurate according to in podcast dates ???? (Michael being hired to replace a previous assistant who passed in 2003<might have been earlier>)

As a person Michael holds a characterization of Naïveté and ignorance (which though possible in an older character would make more sense if he was younger).

<update Fiona may have died earlier, will make the 1990s suggestion or even the 80s for him due to content of the episode (167) even though Gertrude was said to have lost all her assistants by 2011 which doesn’t line up with my most accurate timeline>

****side note**** I am open to shifting and altering the Great Twisting from 2009 to something far earlier to retain accuracy and so forth, I hate this godforsaken timeline; working dates for The Great Twisting per time line 1-4: (1)1983 (2) 1990 (3) 2000 (4) 2009

All above dates would put Michael between the ages of 24/25 which I feel works best with his young, naïve, and ignorant characterization. However I will lend the more canon accurate dates and ages all the way down

Random info related in the twisting: all of Gertrude’s assistances had been dead by 2011 (ep 126), of cording to this the Great Twisting should have taken lave some time after October 2009, however it is said that Michael had already been distorted before Agnus Montague had died (which was in 2006), all of this to say, I decided all the details because I’m more consistent

Further details:

He was sacrificed by Gertrude Robinson to the Spiral, more specifically “The Distortion” to stop the transcendence of the Spiral/ the ritual (The Great Twisting), in which he kinda combined with and “became” it though Michael Himself ceased to exist/died. “He” remained “The Distortion” until season 2/3 when “he” was replaced by Helen Richardson.

He Was Gertrude’s archival assistant, supposedly worked with Eric Delano (as found in Eric’s statement tape with Gertrude taken after he had died), and was said to have been “far too young to be in this profession” when he started (found in 167).

Gerard “Gerry” Keay: (his timeline is actually also shit apparently but this is my thoughts)

born circa 1983 (would have been 33 at the start of the podcast in 2016). Died a year prior to the start of the podcast (2015) at age 32 of a brain tumor that had remained undetected until shortly before his death. He died on a trip to America with Gertrude Robinson where he was binded to a book by Gertrude; that book has previously belonged to his mother. Gerard’s page in that book was eventually burned by request by Jon “The Archivist” Sims and Gerry was “released” to death.

Gerard was with his mother into his 20s when she essentially killed and mutilated herself to become more powerful through the same book we find Gerry binded to. He was in jail for her murder for a bit (despite him not doing it) but was eventually released after evidence was tampered with. Her death was in 2008 which would have made Gerard about 25 years old.

To escape what was essentially his mother’s ghost he came to Gertrude Robinson who burned Gerard’s mother’s pages-causing him to be free from her at last. This was in 2013 placing Gerard at 30 years old.

His parents are Eric Delano and Mary Keay: Eric worked in the archives with Gertrude and Micheal but quit (by gouging his eyes out to escape from his patron) to raise his son. However, soon after Mary killed him in his sleep and used him to practice her “book binding”; Mary eventually gave Eric’s page to Gertrude.

Gertrude Robinson: I’m gonna assume she was 27 when she started and I’m gonna say she began working there in 1964 because she worked there for 50 years. This would put her at 77 in 2016 when she is shot and killed by Elias Bouchard (technically Jonah Magnus but it’s like a whole thing).

Gertrude spent her entire career hunting and destroying rituals of many different entities and their avatars. Including the rituals of “The Scorched Earth” (The desolation), “The Silence” (The Lonely), and The Great Twisting (The Spiral). Before her death she had be researching to stop the workings of “I Do Not Know You”/ “The Unknowing” (The Stranger), but died while still investigating, thus passing that responsibility into her predecessor Jon Sims.

Eric Delano: married to Mary Keay and his son is Gerard Keay, who he refers to in podcast as “my son, Gerry”. He began working with Gertrude soon after her promotion to Head Archivist, after the death of previous Archivist Agnus Stacy, the 1960s (I say 1964). He worked along side Fiona Law, Emma Harvey, and supposedly Michael Shelley. He had Gerard with Mary Keay circa 1983 and two years later gouged out his eyes in order to sever his connection the the Eye and quit his job at the archives to raise his son. However not too long after that Mary decided she had no use for Eric after Gerard was born, seeing as she could no longer bear children, and he had blinded himself, so she killed him in his sleep with a pair of garden shears and binded him to her book, thus sealing his soul to later be summoned by Gertrude after Mary gives her his page as a gift (July 3,2008). After Eric gives his statement he asks Gertrude to burn his page so he can finally be free and she obliges (July 21, 2008).

Mary Keay: mother of Gerard Keay she was obsessed with the power of the entities and eventually tried to bind herself to her book. She took loads of painkillers as to not feel any pain as she wrote on her skin, peeled it off, and hung it on hooks. She attempted to enlist the help of her son but he ran out due to fear (2008). She blames him for being unable to finish her ritual so she could be above death and torments him before she is burned by Gertrude Robinson in 2013 after Gerard came to her with his issue. Mary was born in either 1924 or 1946, but due to the nature of her and Eric’s relationship in the 60s/70s and Gerard’s birth in the 80s along with the fact she was stated to still be “young” in 1955 when she found her first “strange book”, 1946 is more likely. That would put her at roughly 26 or so upon meeting Eric and 37 at the birth of her son. She would have been about 62 at the time of her death in 2008.

[nestastits]

If you hate Gwyn, give me a legitimate reason why other than her being with Azriel.

I’ve seen people claim she’s evil because she doesn’t wear her invoking stone. Even though there was literally an entire paragraph dedicated to why she feels unworthy of wearing it, but you know reading comprehension is dead for the antis. Plus, Ianthe literally wore one and she’s a rapist, murder, and traitor but Gwyn is more evil than her apparently?

I’ve seen people claim she’s a Lightsinger, something we know very little about and what we do know does not make sense with Gwyn’s history and appearance. Plus Nesta can fight off fae magic, so she would know if she was being lured. And if sjm decided to make Gwyn a Lightsinger, it would only make her better. But she’s not with the information we currently know of Gwyn.

I’ve seen people say she lied about her SA even though we have been told from precious Az and Mor how she was assaulted and by whom. And I can’t even begin to describe how fucked up and horrible you are in the head for even insinuating this.

I’ve seen people say it’s because she’s a child compared to others. But literally all the Archeron sisters are younger than her? Feyre was 19 when she was turned Fae. In acosf Feyre-21/22, Elain-23/24, and Nesta-24/25. Gwyn is 28.

I’ve seen people say she is too happy or excited about things, is that not how yall want Elain to be?

I’ve seen people say she’s a copy of Elain. Which is just pure idiocy. Elain and Gwyn have very different life styles. Elain and Gwyn like very different things. The only thing that makes them similar is their compassion for others.

I’ve seen people say they don’t trust her because Az’s shadows darted out at her breath. Azriel’s shadows were born from his loneliness and seek to protect him. They’ve been shown to love him too. His shadows darted out and danced with Gwyn’s breath, a considerable upgrade and show of affection compared to how they scatter away from other characters. They’ve been seen to hover around both cassian and Rhys, the people az calls his brothers, and Nesta-a friend of Az as seen in hofas. It does not mean anything bad for his shadows to fly around another character, I’d be more worried about them hiding from others.

The largest argument I’ve seen antis say is that they don’t like her because she made a man have a spark in his chest😑. If your ship is endgame, why do you care so much about the man having a spark in his chest for another woman? Unless of course this comes off as a red flag, which you should be hating az for not gwyn. Why do you hate her and make up shit for her to look bad just to bring another character up? If your ship is endgame, you should not be worried about the ONLY ACOTAR CHARACTER that has not done a single questionable thing (emerie too) to be hated for.

The only actual reason I’ve seen people hate her for always has to do with the shipwar, which is dumb as hell. But this also proves Gwyn/Azriel have done something to make you question the safety of your “endgame” ship🤔. Right?

[pinkeoni]

This moment keeps me up at night—

because it doesn’t align with what we’re being told the entire season.

The point that they tell us explicitly in the dialogue in season one is that Joyce was right about everything.

She wasn’t hallucinating, she wasn’t out of her mind, she was right.

So then, if Joyce was right about everything, if she wasn’t just hallucinating Will in a bout of hysteria, why then choose to show us a clear example where she is hallucinating Will?

Unless she wasn’t.

I will admit that there is a chance that this is just a dream or a hallucination. Joyce is very sleep deprived and was just told that her son had died. I wouldn’t put it past her to have dream visions of her newly dead son. The scene is also presented as if this is the case, with Joyce shown sleeping before seeing Will and then sharply waking up after the fact.

So okay, case closed, maybe it’s looking like this really is just a dream situation after all 😂 but I wanna just entertain the harmless idea that maybe the audience is being mislead with the dream allegations.

So the scene above actually happens right after we get the first confirmation that Will is still alive, when El is able to find him singing over the radio.

So we learn that Will is still alive at the top of the episode, the title sequence plays, and then we get a scene where Will appears right in front of Joyce. The sequence of events should be enough to at least raise an eyebrow.

At the end of the episode, Joyce recieves the verification for herself when Will is able to make contact with her. I want to point out that Will is able to do so while screaming for his mom, exactly the same thing that “dream” Will was doing.

So what do I think? That Will was actually physically in the Rightside Up? That he some how got through and then decided to go back in?

Well, no, not exactly, but he could have been doing some form of shadow walking— or his consciousness travelling to the other plane.

Of course since I’m a Will has powers truther I think that his powers are at play here. Shadow walking is brought up by Dustin in the subsequent episode—

And we see this very type of thing in season two with Will’s true sight.

Was Will just seeing into the Upside Down? Or was there a projection of himself that was physically in the UD? I’m going to say in the latter option, considering that the Mind Flayer was able to physically enter Will’s body during one of these true sight episodes.

Bringing it back to the scene at the very beginning of the post, I’d like to propose that this is what Will was doing, using his powers to shadow walk into the RU from the UD.

I don’t think Will waa be aware that he was using his powers. He was thrown into a high stakes situation, scared, and desperately wanted to get back to his mom and his powers were running amuck without him consciously knowing. This instance of him shadow walking to reach his mom is similar to what happens with the lights, his powers are activating as a way to reach his mom. It’s also implicated through dialogue that the thing with the lights is because of Will.

It would make total sense for his powers to activate in this way, even if he wasn’t conscious it was powers, based on how we know powers work in the show. It’s when El remembers the strong love that her mother feels for her that she is able to unlock her ability to open gates, a unique power that El herself probably didn’t even know she had.

So all of this being said, while made to be believable that Joyce was just dreaming, there’s still enough evidence to suggest that this image of Will was a manifestation of his powers.

Think about it this way, if you wanted Will having powers to be a twist, then you would want to write it in a way where the hints are all there, but there’s enough room to believe that the opposite is also true, so you aren’t playing all of your cards all at once. If Joyce was undoubtedly awake and seeing a vision of Will, that would be way too obvious right off the bat.

[god-mouths]

Scott pilgrim is a modern retelling of Dante’s Inferno, and I want to talk about it

Hi . Brought this up very briefly a while ago but i rewatched spto with friends last night and got my gears turning. I don’t usually make posts like this but It’s been on my mind and I want to share. Here we goooo. Under read more becwuse I wish not to disturb my beloved friends with a long post

First off, let’s start with theeeee obvious.

Say hello to our Dante and Beatrice.

I don’t think I need to go into this first one much, but Scott and Dante are of course the heroes(term used lightly. Scott is not a good person and honestly neither was fuckinh Dante of all people) of their respective tales, going through hell and back to win over this ethereal, “too good to be true” heavenly dream girl. Scott even dies to get her in the end, like Dante venturing down into the depths of hell, dying and then ascending to get to Beatrice. If I wanted to really stretch it I could say the dreamscape is a sort of purgatory but I don’t think there’s enough evidence for that one.

Next,

Our Virgil. What’s up, Wallace.

In the comics Wallace acts as a sort of guide to Scott. We end up seeing him less as the comic progresses, which I find lines up with Virgil having to part ways with Dante before he enters heaven. Not much to say otherwise admittedly. Love you though buddy

Now for the symbolism of hell. Since there are nine circles of hell, it obviously can’t match up one to one with the exes unless we add some of scott’s relationships to the mix, which both doesn’t make sense, causes this analysis to get stupider than it already is, and leaves some characters left over that already don’t fit in to these parallels.

Luckily, however, there are The Seven Deadly Sins. Going to be going in sin order rather than ex order here

Firstly,

MATTHEW PATEL - PRIDE

- the first boyfriend and the first sin very conveniently line up, which threw me off track because I thought the exes would go in the order of the sins. Enyways

- in the movies, comics, and shows, he is insanely flashy with how he presents himself. It’s the entrance, the dances, the expressive clothing (“that guy’s dressed as a pirate” “pirates are in this year!”, modifying Gideon’s suit to fit his color palette, the outfit he wore while kicking gideon’s ass). The theatre kid in him essentially

- taking the lead in the musical Knives and Stephen presented him with— they knew how to cater to him, because he views himself as the coolest bitch on the planet. Which honestly he kind of is but don’t tell him this

- so headstrong in his pride that he fucks up. Repeatedly. First to get killed, too cocky, spends all of gideons money “I’ve lost billions!”

- believes he’s entitled to Ramona as soon as he wins the fight against Scott

GIDEON- GREED

- I don’t feel like I have to explain this one but I will because I enjoy him greatly

- CEO, billionaire. Money money money mr rich

- literally “owns” or tries to excersize ownership Ramona in the comics and movie as if she belongs to him— with the glow, or with the chip implanted into her neck with his logo on it.

- has all of his past girlfriends cryogenically frozen. All for him none for anyone else. They should only love meeeeee.

- wants everything for himself in excess. Women, fame, money. Almost considered pride for him also but greed is more fitting

KEN AND KYLE- ENVY AND LUST

- holy shit this image has five pixels so sorry about that I’m on my phone and Google images sucks

- anyways of course they’re sharing sins

- not much to say here as they don’t show up much, and it’s easy to make the argument of envy or lust for ANY of the seven exes. These two were the hardest to figure out. Not as sure on Envy, but can definetly advocate for lust— playing around with women, thinking they were playing around with Ramona.

TODD- GLUTTONY

- this one was the easiest one for me. Like come on

- breaks vegan edge in the comics, movie, (vegan police), and show (Wallace breakup event 2 dead 5 injured)

- his whole persona revolves around food. Of course gluttony doesn’t always mean food but here it most definetly equates. Even when he’s vegan he always makes it a talking point of how superior he is to others because of this fact, only for it to blow up in his face when his enjoyment of non vegan food catches up to him.

ROXY- WRATH

- a very angry girl to be sure. Takes her emotions out using violence, attacking Ramona the first time she sees her, even though she is going out of the order of the league and supposed to be attacking Scott (although I guess that point is moot because they all think he’s dead at that point)

- “I’m bi-furious” line from the movie deserves a shout out here I think

- (completely justified) Unending rage against Ramona in the show, and scott in the comics and movies. She is PISSED.

Lastly,

LUCAS LEE- SLOTH

- also one of the easiest ones. Could have made an argument for pride (tries to prove he can land a sick ollie so hard that he dies) or greed (movie star who lives in huge mansion), but sloth ultimately fit the bill the best.

- even before we get into his reoccurring theme of “whatever” in the show, it’s pretty evident in the comics and movie that he doesn’t care enough to extend effort. He tells Scott he’ll leave him alone and say his ass got kicked if Scott gave him a twenty dollar bill, sends his stunt doubles to fight Scott in his stead.

- onto the show, he lets his stardom slip out of his fingers with his attitude, not even caring to read or memorize the script anymore (“is that why half the lines in your last film were ‘Let’s Party’?” “I uhh, read the title.” Etc). Just spends all his time messing around and skateboarding. The title of his episode is literally “Whatever”. He doesn’t give enough of a shit to care. Which. Respect I guess

Extra; the exes ARE referred to as “the seven deadly chumps” in the show.

In conclusion;

[jusst-you-race]

57. “There is enough room for both of us.” For sebmark

it was impossible to resist only one bed-ing them so here you go anon (there is something about sebmark that has me writing like this... learning much about myself) prompt list

“There is enough room for both of us.”

Mark basically walks into the back of Seb when he stops dead in the doorway of their hotel room. Confused, and slightly frustrated, Mark looks up from where he had been frantically composing a text to see what Seb’s doing. He peers over the top of the blond curls in front of him.

“Fuck.”

Seb snorts. Then he walks into the room, hauling his suitcase behind him. Mark makes an aborted attempt to stop him but he doesn’t quite manage to grab Seb’s shoulder. He pinches the bridge of his nose instead. 

“Seb, stay here. Don’t do anything ridiculous. I’m going to go sort this out with reception.”

Seb tips his head back and groans. 

“Mark, please. It’s two in the morning. We have just got off a long flight. I just want to sleep. Can’t we sort it out tomorrow?”

“Sleep where? There’s only one bed!” Mark splutters. 

Seb rolls his eyes dramatically. 

“There is enough room for the both of us.” He dumps his suitcase in the corner and kneels down to start unzipping it. Mark continues to stand in the doorway. 

“It won’t take long to sort,” Mark tries, but he’s running out of steam quickly and he knows Seb can sense it.

“It will take ages.” Mark can’t even argue this, Seb’s right. “Mark, please.” Seb looks up as he says this, and the image of him on his knees, next to the bed they’re about to share, begging— Mark clears his throat and shuts the door behind him. 

“Fine. I’m taking this half.”

They get ready for bed efficiently, and in total silence, both of them too tired to even consider conversation at this point. Seb gets into bed first, wiggling his way under the covers. Mark flips off the overhead light, leaving just the bedside lights on, and turns to face the bed. Seb looks ethereal. The lighting is soft, dim, and Seb’s golden curls have fanned out across the pillow like a halo. Mark swallows. 

Carefully, Mark climbs under the sheets, keeping himself as far to one side of the bed as he physically can. He tries to position himself as comfortably as he can while hanging half off the bed, and makes the mistake of turning to face Seb. Seb is watching him, eyebrow raised. 

“You don’t have to be all the way over there, you know. I don’t bite.” A wolfish grin spreads across his face. “Unless you want me to.”

Mark turns away from him so aggressively that he falls off the side of the bed. Seb cackles. Embarrassed, bruised, and seconds from marching downstairs to somehow get another room, Mark turns back to glare unhappily at Seb. Seb holds his hands up placatingly, clearly trying hard to stifle his giggles. 

“You’re a menace,” Mark huffs. 

“Yes, yes, you’ve said many times.” Seb is still grinning, but all of a sudden something in his face shifts, goes soft, fond. He lifts up the corner of the covers, invitingly. “Come to bed?”

It’s ridiculous. A stupid cheesy line that should be weird and awkward coming from someone who should be little more than a coworker. But. Seb’s voice is quiet, vulnerable, warm, and his eyes are wide, imploring. Mark feels like he’s half in a trance as he nods and slides under the covers once more. He’s closer this time – too close. 

Seb doesn’t move away. 

Instead he smiles, and Mark jumps as he feels cold feet press against his shins, featherlight. 

“Night, Mark,” Seb whispers, before he closes his eyes. Mark heaves in a deep breath. Seb’s eyelashes cast delicate shadows across his cheeks. Heart pounding, Mark reaches his hand out, slowly, fingers inching towards– 

He leans over Seb and turns the light off, plunging the room into darkness. 

When he settles back down, he leaves his hand between them. An impulsive invitation that he doesn’t expect Seb to even notice, let alone take up. He squeezes his eyes shut and wills himself to fall asleep.

Cold fingers find his in the dark.

[yuseirra]

(Probably my final analysis about this guy unless something new comes up) There is a reason why Kamiki must be a god from a thematic perspective.

+prediction: This manga's ending can be really unhinged lol

I haven't encountered any spoilers regarding the ramaining chapters and if I get sent ANY, I WILL block you. No prior warnings. I was too tormented by those earlier. I don't deserve that for having cared for hikaai..(But if I get anything right.. You may o<-<.. Ohh I have so many love-hate relationship w this comic.. I guess I'll be able to get over with this whole nervousness soon one way or the other)

Jotted this down earlier, used machine translator haha ;v;

To elaborate, I think there are two remaining ways to handle this character. One is to treat him delicately (but considering the limited chapters left, this seems almost out of the question; everyone keeps saying he's dead and it's over, and it upsets me. I don’t think that way. I’m not even sure if he’s actually dead, yet everyone seems so certain he is, and it’s depressing. Wouldn't that be a really bad outcome? It’s not about liking the character; it just feels so unfair to both the readers and the character if the story goes in that direction. Just brushing him off as a villain would be too shallow, and I don't think it would make for a good story. But everyone else seems to have given up... Should I give up too? Would the author make such a choice? I’m sorry, but I really don’t think they'd finish this story so sloppily after getting this far. If so, I’d say I could put more effort into writing about him, but I don’t want to speak like this about someone else’s precious work.)

The other option is to treat him as a "fallen god" like the title suggests, glossing over some details. This way, they can maintain some narrative consistency without devoting much chapter space to him. There are actually a lot of hints regarding this (for example, if we assume he actually killed a lot of people, it could explain why no bodies were ever found... Like, we might get a news story in the next chapter about hundreds of bodies being discovered in the mountains because the power that concealed them vanished after his death (which would be terrifying. Then I’d be left baffled & wondering again, what kind of person was Ai really involved with?;; why the heck did the writers make her love such a guy?? I explained how this could work in a way IF he's a god in my earlier posts)).

Looking at the broader scope of the work, if we try to understand what the story is aiming to convey, there’s a clear significance to the character.

If they want to bury several dark aspects of the entertainment industry in him and just decide he is the reason behind it all, then he can't just be an ordinary person.

Seriously, Ai wouldn't have died for this kind of reason if she wasn't a celebrity. Nino and Ryosuke, these deranged individuals, wouldn’t have meddled in her private life and family matters, claiming that she must be the perfect idol, that she can't have a boyfriend or children, chasing her down, and trying to kill her if she weren't one. Many of Ai’s miseries stemmed from her being an idol, where her individuality was not accepted, and this isn’t a problem that can be resolved by simply taking down one madman—it’s connected to societal perceptions. To write this off as being Kamiki’s fault doesn’t even seem possible to me. That's not just simply bad writing, it's irresponsible and harmful. So I don't see the writers making such a choice. They're smart people.

Even if Kamiki harbored resentment after breaking up with his girlfriend, Ai wouldn't have been harmed if she wasn’t a celebrity. Nino even mentioned that Kamiki only talked about Ai. If Ai had been a regular person, what he did probably would have just him reminiscing about her as an ex-girlfriend. Seriously. Does this really make sense for it to believe that Kamiki orchestrated Ai’s murder? There should be a better reason. Otherwise, it’s just Nino and Ryosuke being unhinged, right? Wasn't Kamiki a minor in middle or high school at the time? I doubt he would have directly ordered anyone to kill Ai. Does he seem like someone who would harm Ai deliberately? If that were the case, why wouldn’t he have sought revenge immediately after the breakup? Why wait four whole years? Why? Even if he had anger and resentment (which I believe he did not...this guy never blames Ai.)would die down a lot within that much timespan. Honestly, I have no idea. Considering about the major event at time being Ai's dome concert, I plain think he'd have intended to send flowers through a friend to congratulate her about it, but then the accident happened. Ai’s comment that “our kids are smart and will understand our situation” suggests they weren’t completely out of touch. Maybe Ai told him where she was, which is why he knew about the hospital on her delivery day. Just WHY would he harm her? He's been throwing away his entire life away for a cause related to her for over a decade after she's deceased!! He never wanted to hurt her!!

Going back to the point, if his character isn’t going to be given proper focus (but considering they even brought in a famous voice actor for him, wouldn’t he be more significant than just a side character?), then it would make more sense for him to be a god. That way, he can absorb the societal context surrounding him. Like, he was originally a divine guardian of the entertainment world, but he became corrupted and fell into madness because of humanity. And there are plenty of odd situations and foreshadowing that can only be explained this way... His unique connection with Ai, the intensity of his attachment—it wouldn’t need further explanation, because there’s a narrative that exists beyond the story itself. If he’s treated as just a person, he holds no symbolic value and is merely a broken-minded individual—a mere psychopath. What would that contribute to the story? It shouldn’t go that way. It wasn’t until Chapter 154 that I realized, “Ah... This guy wasn’t supposed to be the culprit.” I just kept following along from there. If the story has a message to convey, it needs to address this. I can see where it's headed, and it’s frustrating, so I just want it to show a bit more! And then they say the story is ending soon. I think the most pressing need for the story now is to resolve its thematic elements.

I can think of about three or four scenarios for how this manga might end. Remember Chapter 156-7 or so, where Aqua and Ruby have that conversation? That chapter is narratively ominous. After reading that, I thought this story might end as a vision flashing before the eyes of two dying people. Like, “You had fun, didn’t you? This kind of life wasn’t so bad, right?” If that chapter is any indication, it’s not impossible that the entire story has been a well-constructed stage, all fiction! That chapter gave me a weird vibe, so I mentioned that the author might craft an ending that over 70% of the readers would dislike in a post once.

If it takes a really bold direction, it could end like that.

Or it could go with a more conventional ending. But this story, since Chapter 1, has been talking about how “everything is fiction, the world is fiction, and it hopes for good lies.” I think something that ties back to that concept will come up at the end.

And the last scenario is an ending that tries to hold onto some deeper meaning (but that doesn’t rule out an Aqua-Ruby flashback ending... lol. They could try to maintain meaning even with that or fulfill Aqua’s dreams of going to medical school and ending up with Kana~~).

Honestly... Even with four chapters left, I’d like them to dedicate like two of them to Kamiki. If we’re talking about liars, he’s as much of a liar as Ai, but he hasn’t been highlighted at all. Is becoming like Ruby supposed to be ideal? I haven’t been convinced of that... If this story wants to say something meaningful about the entertainment industry, it should address the lies required by idols and actors alike.

Wrap up Aqua’s story in one or two chapters, give Kana a happy ending (Kana’s been through a lot in the narrative), even if Aqua and Ruby don’t find happiness, I think Kana should at least find some fulfillment. MEM-cho will do fine, and Akane’s smart, so she’ll be okay.

Kamiki and Ai deserve about half of the remaining focus, thematically speaking. Even if Kamiki ends up being too far gone and deserves to rot in hell, we should at least understand who he really was. Ai’s true feelings were revealed, but Kamiki never got that chance... He never had a real opportunity to be happy, either. To me, he’s more of a person who was pushed to the brink and went mad rather than someone purely evil, so I can’t stop thinking about him. There’s a reason the story was written this way, and I want it to show that. There's someone broken and hit and hurt, but no one's taking responsibility for it. Is that right? Is that what you call justice? I don't think so. It gets on my nerves. I knew that he was a noble soul before they even brought that up. He used to be kind but something pushed him so far. A good story should show what broke him.

The recent chapters have been intriguing but not particularly substantive, mostly dropping hints without much resolution, given the remaining chapters. Can they really tie everything up? I have my doubts.

I just want the story to hold onto its meaning, regardless of the characters’ fates. That’s my hope. For me, this piece is about the message. I really wish it gives out a good one. I’ll keep quiet now; I really hate being wrong—

Did I figure out what this manga is trying to convey? If I have- I hope it goes in that direction. I do have an idea. It’s still possible, after all.

[quichein-me-softly]

a-maze-ing time w/ sans

(Plot: You and Sans explore a corn maze. The trip is filled with poor jokes and dead ends.)

(author's note: figured i should do something for fall.)

The fall air was crisp, tinged with the earthy scent of dried corn and leaves. You adjusted your jacket and glanced at Sans, whose grin seemed wider than usual as he stuffed his hands in his pockets, giving the entrance sign a dubious once-over.

“so… lemme get this straight,” Sans said, raising a brow bone, clearly amused. “we’re voluntarily goin’ in there, gettin’ lost, and tryin’ to find our way out?”

You laughed, nudging him. "Yes, exactly. It’s part of the fall experience! Besides, it’ll be fun with two boneheads."

You thought for a moment, then added, “Plus, isn’t that the whole point? It is a maze, after all.”

“welp, lead the way, fearless navigator. worst-case scenario, we end up in the middle of nowhere," he chuckled, eyes glinting with that familiar hint of mischief.

With that, you both stepped into the maze. The golden stalks towered above, creating a labyrinthine path that seemed to twist in every direction. Every few minutes, you found yourself at a dead end or doubling back to a path you swore you’d already taken. Sans, however, seemed to find the situation endlessly amusing.

"alright, left or right, partner?" he asked, pausing at a fork in the path.

You squinted down each direction, trying to sense which might be the right way. "Right. I’ve got a feeling about it."

“right it is,” he shrugged, taking the turn with you. Moments later, you both hit a dead end.

Sans let out a mock sigh, “guess your feeling got corralled.”

You burst into a fit of giggles, shaking your head. “Wow, you really don’t stop, do you?”

“it’s all part of the maize-ter plan.” He winked, clearly pleased with himself.

First, he compared you to a lost sheep; then he claimed you two were pioneers, forging your own path where no one had gone before… even though every path had clearly been traveled plenty of times. Between the maze’s twists and turns and Sans' never-ending puns, the thought of finding the exit now felt like another joke.

“hey, we’re makin’ great progress,” he joked as you hit your third dead end in a row. “really corn-ered ourselves there, huh?” He shot you a wink, the pun landing perfectly as you groaned, half-laughing.

By now, the sky had darkened, casting an eerie shadow over the maze. Every so often, a sudden rustle in the corn stalks made you jump, only to realize it was just the wind—or at least, you hoped. Sans, on the other hand, seemed entirely unfazed, his grin a little too wide as he visibly enjoyed your horror.

After another wrong turn, he laughed. “don’t worry, it’s just corn. i’m sure it doesn’t bite. unless…” He leaned in closer, his voice lowering in mock horror, “it’s got a-maze-ing taste for human flesh.”

You rolled your eyes, but the jump scares didn’t let up.

At one point, a particularly creepy scarecrow loomed around the next corner, making you jump back with a startled yelp. You shot Sans a look, only to find him chuckling softly, his hand steadying you as an amused glint sparkled in his eye.

“you okay there? i can take the lead if you’re feelin’ stalked.” He chuckled at his own joke, his chuckle almost as much a comfort as his presence.

“Very funny,” you muttered, but you didn’t let go of his arm, and he didn’t move away either. Instead, he gave your hand a gentle squeeze, keeping it there as you both pushed on.

“don’t worry, if any scarecrow tries to mess with you, i’ll make sure they’re out standing in their field as pun-ishment.” He gave you a playful nudge, and you managed a shaky laugh, feeling oddly reassured by his calmness.

Sans tightened his grip around your hand, sensing your unease. “heh. that was a little corny, even for me.” This time, he earned a genuine giggle from you.

With each twist and turn, laughter bubbled up between the two of you. Sans would point out stray corn lying on the ground and make terrible puns.

“what can i say? this maze really leaves an ear-ie vibe!” His voice was soft but warm. You couldn’t help but laugh, maybe a bit too loudly, the sound breaking through the rustling leaves.

The night continued with more wrong turns, a few unplanned scares, and plenty of laughter. Every time you got turned around, Sans would offer his “helpful” directions with a deadpan look, only to lead you to yet another dead end. Still, you couldn’t help but smile—his easygoing presence made getting hopelessly lost feel like an adventure.

Finally, after what felt like hours, the maze twisted again, leading to yet another dead end. Sans placed his hands on his hips, letting out an exaggerated sigh.

"welp, seems like we’re corn-fined. guess we’re just gonna have to make camp here, huh?"

You shot him a look, shaking your head but smiling despite yourself. “I don’t think I’ve ever been lost somewhere this long... with this many puns."

“oh, it’s a once-in-a-lifetime experience,” he snickered. “'sides, i’m a-maze-in' company, right?”

“You already used that one!”

“whoops.”

You couldn’t argue with that; for all his puns and teasing, you’d been having more fun than you’d expected. With each turn, he found a new way to lighten the mood, and at some point, you realized how much easier it felt to rely on him to keep going.

You groaned, giving him a playful shove. “How much longer do you think this will take?”

Sans simply grinned, and you heard the familiar hum of his magic. “well, if you’re tired of the scenic route, i could, uh, show you a shortcut.”

Before you could ask, he secured his hand around yours. In a blink, the maze was gone, and you found yourself just outside its entrance, surrounded by the distant sounds of festival chatter and lights. The evening chill reminded you just how long you’d wandered in circles.

You shot him a sideways glance, giving him a mock glare as you let go of his hand. “You mean to tell me you could’ve gotten us out of there the whole time?”

“figured you wanted the 'full corn maze experience.'" He shrugged, chuckling. "plus, where’s the fun in takin’ the easy way out?”

“Sans!” you groaned in feigned exasperation, still grinning.

He chuckled, patting you on the shoulder. “aw, come on, you know you loved it.”

“plus, it wouldn’t have been nearly as fun without you around to keep me on the wrong path,” he teased, giving you a mischievous grin as you both exchanged a playful look.

You swatted at his arm in mock offense. “Hey! You’re the one with all the 'helpful' directions!”

“heh, gotta keep things interesting.”

You rolled your eyes, but your grin betrayed you. “Oh yeah, interesting is definitely the word for it.”

He shrugged, hands in his hoodie pockets as you walked side by side. “hey, if you’re lookin’ for predictability, you’re with the wrong skeleton.”

“Guess I’ll take my chances,” you replied, your tone light but sincere.

Sans shot you a quick sidelong glance, a softer smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “lucky me.”

As you both walked away from the maze, the last remnants of your laughter drifted into the night air, the warm glow of the festival lights casting a gentle light over you both. The chill of the evening was no match for the comfortable warmth between you as you strolled, side by side.

[nightmarearian]

finally got this digital and all neat <3

boothill hair-headcanons! I did some (admittedly short) research on indigenous hair traditions & cultures (x).

A bit too tired to paraphrase rn so direct quotes to get the main points: > "believed that a person’s long hair represents a strong cultural identity" > "As part of the practice in self-respect, we are taught to take good care of our hair through proper grooming" > "adorn their hair with fur wraps, woolen wraps, feathers, fluffs, and bead work for war dancing and ceremonies" > "common to see family members and friends brushing and braiding hair for each other. > "we don’t cut our hair unless we have experienced a significant loss, like the death of a close family member, traumatic event or significant life change." > "When we do have to cut our hair, it is never to be thrown away, but rather, burned with sage or sweetgrass in a ceremonial way. When our hair is burned, all of our thoughts, prayers, dreams, aspirations, experiences, and history rise to the Creator to be properly taken care of." > " hair embodying so much of who we are, boundaries are important. Touching someone’s hair without permission is disrespectful in the Native community."

With that, looking at canon Boothill... I decided that at first he straight up just. Did not have the time to cut and burn his hair at first, and by the time he did he. Couldn't. (He’s dead anyway. Everything on his is dead anyway, so it doesn’t exactly count right now…) (he should be ashamed. He is. Being so fuckin selfish and one of the last of Aeragan-Epharshel and he making a mess of their culture). (He really should. He should stop being selfish but he can't let go of his memories of them and he's sorry, he's so so sorry, please he knows he's nothing more than a fuckin husk he's sorry he's sorry he's sorry-). (Going off of my other boothill art,) He loosely braids where a few of them would usually be, but comparatively it's too loose and he doesn't have as much feathers or sweetgrass or fur anymore but it's as close as he's ever going to get anymore so it'll do.

If any of this is inaccurate, really sorry and please correct me! :)

Text (Sorta. In order of my thoughts, all that, and then some): Aeragan-Epharshel "Boothill" (tesswehas) > had thick, soft, black hair -> current hair is thinner from lack of care + general consequences of becoming mechanized. -> Marie-Antoinette Syndrome + stress turned the majority of it white. > Tight & neat braids (w/ feathers, sweetgrass, fur) -> Family braids his hair & vice versa (-> Consequently, Boothill can't braid his own hair as well as he could someone else's. The difference in doing it to someone else vs. oneself, and all that) > Around~a bit longer than waist length -> Might've gotten a bit shorter when getting mechanized.

Post killing Oswaldo (a few months) > Cuts it a while after killing Oswaldo (while the power vacuum and all the extra stuff that comes with killing a head of department) -> Especially the braids/where the braids would be & the black parts. -> (his hair's all white now). > Burns it with sweetgrass > Additionally (not on drawing), He's tried to tie it back, sorta; It's a bit too short so he uses hair clips and stuff. It's at like mid-neck length. > His red bandana was his little girl's baby wrap. (yk those non-descript cloth wrapped around a baby).

-> (Eventually*) -> *meaning Argenti & Robin are able to keep Boothill from joining the rest of his family + heal/take care of himself > He lives long enough to grow it out. About shoulder length. > He usually has four braids (A/R/Sv/C), all with a few different ornaments. -> Side note, usually I guess one would get their hair braided with their associated accessories (if that makes sense???) but Boothill wants accessories based on his loved ones, so he has a little something. (Still doesn't have enough feathers, either). (Braid Dictionary): Each person's Ornaments, from Neatest -> Messiest: > Argenti(Tied w/ R): Vines & Roses > Robin(Tied w/ A): Metal/Fake flower ornamets (3); They're based of her halo. > Sunday*: "haloes"/rings > Clara (Tied w/ Sv): (Brass) Bolts & sometimes (uncommonly) fluff/fur, or flowers. > Svarog (Tied w/ C): (Steel/Silver) Bolts & Nuts > Hook: Usually doesn't have accessories, but the messiness & bits of dirt/grime (/aff) is enough of an indicator. Sometimes she can "braid"/tie string or smth. + Possibly aventurine? depends. -> neatness-wise would be around Sunday-Clara's; Accessories would be straight up jewlery, yk?

Bonus: Boothill (Makes the absolute neatest braids). Doesn't actually leave much accessories unless asked (Will be encouraged by A or R) -> would be feathers or sweetgrass; The children get flowers too. -> Bullet shells would be like bolts but he doesn't really want to give bullet shells to anyone. If he really wants to, it usually ends up in Svarog's ornament-strings/fur.

Ext. : > Boothill would give Argenti and/or Robin waterfall braids a good amount of the time. > Rose braid either from or to Argenti, to or from Boothill or Robin. > Boothill & Clara braid Svarog's coat's fur + give him strings of accessories.

Ext. Not in Drawing: > Between Robin & Argenti, Boothill gets around to taking proper care of his hair again :). > Sunday eventually joined in per Robin's request (as long as Boothill was okay with it, of course), and he found it calming & also just a good way for these two to bond. > Boothill keeps in his braids as long as he can, until it really has to or he meets the others again. > I only draw Robin, Argenti, Clara, & Svarog's braids in the final-post killing Oswaldo, so Sunday's would probably go behind Boothill's ear, next to Robin's. Hook's goes around the side, near Clara's. > Guess it was sorta implied with the neatest to messiest thing, But Argenti & Robin have the most clean braids, Sunday near close - his perfectionism/idealization is getting to him a bit - Clara & Svarog both have some troubles. It's like. Average-good? Not expert but not bad either. Clara's is a bit messy, and Svarog has some trouble with his bigger, mech-hands. Hook has the messiest. For obvious reasons. Little menace <3

> Oh also Don't think I ever specifically mentioned it but implied open/poly relationship between Argenti, Robin, Boothill & Svarog. (Argenti X Boothill X Robin, Svarog X Boothill). Think that's it. 👍

Original paper sketchpage:

[ilynpilled]

also, in her converation with Ned, cersei outright TELLS him that Jaime would kill Robert if he knew how Robert abused her (fuck robert i hope he's rotting). and Robert knew it too which is why all his bruises were generally weren't on her face where people, specifically including Jaime, could see.

This is her exact quote: "Jaime would have killed him (Robert), even if it meant his own life"

that's probably one of the reasons why she doesn't tell him. she was in an awful, awful situation and it reflects the situation of so many other abuse victims across the world. it's not fair that she should have to keep this from her own family and worry about what her brother would do, but if he DIDN'T do anything...what kind of a person would he be? just look at Aemon the Dragonknight as a prime example

regarding this post: link

yeah thats the quote they refused to take at face value when almost everything about his characterization indicates that it would be the case.

i think when it comes to the discussions of much of this the dissonance comes from not confronting that this society refuses to acknowledge marital rape as rape. i do not have the quote at hand but george himself has expressed that marital rape doesnt exist in medieval society. that is why it makes sense that while jaime is aware that robert “claimed his rights”, he does not recklessly murder him for it in rage unless cersei gives the word (again, we already know he is ready to do it after he sees that robert is disrespecting her by cheating on her and proceeds to ask her if she wants him dead for it. but like you pointed out, cersei understands that if he saw evidence of physical abuse he likely would not ask for permission and potentially get himself killed.) this is because arranged marriages are treated as a norm in which conjugal rape and a man claiming his rights is not really acknowledged or understood (more like confronted tbh) as rape. this is an integral aspect of the patriarchal domination thats present in westerosi society, its woven into its very fabric. women are placed into a role of subordination, again, it is robert’s “right.” and jaime too is unable to conceptualize it as sexual abuse on the level of rape. hence we get quotes like this:

like we know and understand that cersei was repeatedly raped by robert. we know she didnt make anyone kill her. we know what jaime is saying and thinking here is inconsistent and makes little sense if he believes that she was raped.

that other passage suggests that jaime does not fully grasp or know this. and in general society doesn’t for the most part, including most of the victims themselves. “claiming his rights” is not referred to as rape. robert also knows that what he is doing is wrong, especially the part where he is hurting her (theres also the layer of the code of chivalry being completely contradicted), but he refuses to confront it in multiple ways, and i dont think even he fully acknowledges it as rape either even though i refuse to believe that he is not aware of it. cersei’s right to label him a coward. same with ned in that very conversation, he even sees and knows that robert physically hit her, heard her say that she can scarcely bear him touching her, and yet he asks: “a thousand other women might have loved him with all their hearts. what did he do to make you hate him so?”, and cersei also doesn’t give the answer: “he repeatedly raped me.” jaime understands rape as terrible, he shows concern towards brienne, and risks personal harm (and gets it too since he is kicked unconscious because of it) saving her from it, and it is an act driven by empathy, and he even ironically acknowledges that rape can leave someone broken in a way that does not show on the outside. he executes pia’s rapist too, sets a precedent among his father’s men, and recognizes that she’s “scarred” where it does not show: “That’s all she is, a little girl in a woman’s body, scarred and scared.”

and re the present: while i have a sympathy for jaime in the sense that the betrayal that he was confronted with shatters the delusion that he made immense sacrifices for and defined most of his life atp, and the fact that it makes him feel that he was not actually loved by her as well as recontextualizing his most horrible decisions, he should be showing more consideration and empathy (and i am not saying that he is obligated to die for her either. he isnt) and put in the effort to actually place himself in cersei’s shoes and navigate these blindspots that he has (he has the capacity to, again: “they will leave her a cripple too, but inside, where it does not show”). right now, he is extremely bitter, violently even, and can be selfish and misogynistic as hell about it, and i obviously believe that that is something that has to be recognized by readers for what it is.

but still, regarding the rest, i also think ppl dont acknowledge that because of how medieval society operates there is a very skewed perspective and understanding of certain things and how that affects characters. even with rhaella, jaime is disturbed by the physical abuse:

like he doesnt use the word rape like he does with brienne and the bloody mummers, but he obviously hears and sees that the abuse thats happening to rhaella is horrid and hurts her, and feels a need/obligation to protect her. this is why it is not inconsistent at all that jaime would recklessly murder robert without “permission” even if it meant his own life if he saw evidence of physical abuse, but does not do the same for the marital rape/him claiming his rights. in this society it is not viewed as a violation of rights because women do not really have these rights in these circumstances. their purpose is to marry and bear children. rape is mostly understood and recognized as “low born criminals violently raping women”, “knights and soldiers violently raping women when their blood is up” etc, not “nobles in marriages raping their wives when they claim their rights”, or “coerced rape occurring every time nobles use brothels” etc.

and, as you may have noticed, there’s a strong “you’re hurting me” motif with all of this, because no matter what westerosi society normalizes to maintain patriarchal hegemony, it is obviously all an utter violation of human rights that deals immense harm and trauma to women.

[slothquisitor]

Fractured Bonds

Summary: In which Lucanis tracks down Zara and ends up with far more questions than answers. Eventual Rook/Lucanis. 4k.

Read on AO3.

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Lucanis has never bothered to fully understand how missive delivery works within the Lighthouse. He knows that Caretaker is involved and that the missives appear in the library, still, he is often surprised to get anything at all. Mostly he doesn’t send anything unless he absolutely must since he still finds it difficult to trust the magic of this place, no matter how convenient. Today, Harding had informed him he had a letter waiting as she passed through the kitchen.  

It’s from Viago. Venatori in Treviso. That can only mean one thing: Zara is still there. 

He’s not sure if Illario failed to track them down himself or simply decided not to tell him about this, but it doesn’t matter. He might not have been able to kill a god, but he can absolutely take out Zara Renata. He can at least get vengeance for Caterina and protect the family he has left. 

“Want her. Dead,” Spite says. At least, for once, they’re in agreement on something. 

“Don’t worry, she will be,” Lucanis replies, and then he goes to find Rook immediately. 

Tonight, she’s in her room unpacking a box of books and other items that look suspiciously like skulls. She smiles when he enters, and he has trouble returning it when his attention snags on the walls of her room. Like all the rooms in the Lighthouse, Rook’s makes no sense. There’s a raised platform area that seems as though it was perhaps meant to be a bay window, but instead of looking out toward the endless vastness of the Fade, it is an ocean of water and fish. He’s been here only once before and had left quickly after scanning it for exits and threats, the reminders of the Ossuary too strong. It’s not as bad today, but it still causes him to pause. But then he looks around the space she has made hers. 

There are books everywhere, on the bookshelves, but also piled beside the chaise and on the table behind it. Her staff leans beside the wardrobe, and he notices that she’s hung beautiful anatomical drawings on the walls. There’s a glass bowl filled with golden jewelry that reminds him of Emmrich, though he’s never seen her wear anything beyond the many piercings in her ears. The room itself is less crowded than Harding’s greenhouse or Emmrich’s library, but that somehow feels just as fitting here as theirs does to them.

She doesn’t pause from her work as he approaches. “Hey.”

“What’s all this?” he asks. 

“Just some stuff from home. Emmrich asked me to go to the Memorial Gardens in the Necropolis with him, and I took the opportunity to pick up some things I’d left behind.” She glances around the space with satisfaction, he wonders how much of what is in here she brought with her today. She looks so content and relaxed that he regrets bringing more trouble to her. 

“Viago found something.” He holds out Viago’s letter. 

She stops her unpacking and steps around the chaise taking the letter from his outstretched hand. “Something bad, I take it?” 

He gives her a moment to scan the contents of the letter. “Venatori in Treviso. Like I thought. One of them might know where Zara is,” he says. “Viago has Crows watching them. We find them, we find Zara.”

There are so many other problems demanding her attention, and Zara is just one Tevinter magister. They had a deal, once. He would help her kill the gods, and she would help him kill Zara. He’s failed to hold up his end, so he’s not sure that he has any right to ask for her help. This is too good an opportunity to pass up, so he’s going either way…but he hopes he won’t be going alone. 

“We better get to Treviso immediately then,” she says, handing the letter back to him. 

She says it like it’s so easy like it was never a question. He’s grateful. “I’d appreciate that.”

“You should see if Neve wants to come too. If we’re tracking down Venatori, she’s our best bet at finding them.”

The suggestion surprises him. Since Weisshaupt, Rook and Neve have seemed better, but still distant. It’s none of his business to ask, but Rook’s right: Neve would be an asset. 

“I will.” He turns to go, already going through his mental pre-mission checklist. There’s something of a ritual to it, centering his mind, focusing on the mission at hand. He’ll be ready to leave whenever she is. 

He doesn’t make it more than two steps before Rook speaks again, voice barely above a whisper. “Everything she did to you…”

He looks back at her and waits for her to continue. 

There’s a fierce determination on her face. “We’ll make her pay, Lucanis. Side by side.”

The words are a promise filled with quiet intensity. How does she do that? Keep generously offering him kindness and support when he has nothing to give her in return? Looking at her makes him feel a bit like he’s drowning. Their gazes meet, and everything around him is quiet except for the pounding of his own heart. There are many things he wishes he could say, but none of them are fair to her. 

Even before the Ossuary…before Spite…what she wants from him…what she deserves…it would have still been impossible. There’s some part, some piece that everyone else seems to have that has always been missing for him. He loves romance and the idea of sweeping love stories as much as Bellara…but…in practice, it has never quite worked for him. He doesn’t tell her any of that. 

“We just have to get this done. I’m not losing anyone else.” Not Illario. Not her. Not anyone on this team. “We’ll only get one shot at this. We’ll go when you’re ready.”

And then he turns away, shoving down every feeling but relief and gratitude that she’s willing to help. 

***

It’s a beautiful night in Treviso; it’s a real shame they’re spending it jumping from roof to roof. It doesn’t matter how many times they come here and do this, Camina never gets over how much she wishes they could walk around the city like normal people. But this is a Crow operation, so they’re traveling like Crows…and even she can acknowledge the wisdom in trying to catch Zara and the Venatori she no doubt has with her, unawares. 

But she still hates heights. 

Neve complains somewhat less than she does, and Lucanis is doing his very best to ignore them both. And perhaps they should all be a touch more serious considering their mission, but after surviving Weisshaupt everything else they do feels sort of hilarious. Oh, a group of Venatori? It’s not a giant cloud face though! She knows that the cavalier attitude is only going to bite her in the ass, but it’s hard to care right now. Besides, killing Zara Renata with Lucanis sounds like the sort of win they all need right now.  

Emmrich had tried to pull her out of the ‘nothing matters anyway’ funk by taking her home. It had been rather sweet actually the way he had gone about giving her a proper Watcher welcome. They’d spent most of the visit talking about death and loss and grief, not uncommon topics for a pair of Watchers in the Memorial Gardens, but she felt as though Emmrich was trying in some way to provide her comfort for an imagined loss. Weisshaupt had been a failure, but it wasn’t something she was grieving. Not like Davrin anyway. Still, the continued acceptance and inclusion of her by a Senior Watcher feels so genuinely healing in ways she’s not sure how to explain. 

She wonders if that’s how Treviso is for Lucanis if it’s easier to feel like himself when he’s home. He knows this city so well; he leads them through the traverse of rooftops and ziplines and scrambles across balconies like it’s second nature. The scars of the Antaam are everywhere in the city, but not from up here. And certainly not as the Chantry building looms ever larger in front of them. 

But then there is an interloper on their midnight tour of the city. 

“There you are! What took you so long? Did you stop for coffee again?” Illario emerges from the shadows, all confident swagger and the very picture of calm. 

She wasn’t aware that Illario even knew they were in Treviso, though it is always possible that Viago also shared his lead with him. Last she heard, Illario was insisting Zara was back in Vyrantium, so his appearance surprises her. She glances toward Lucanis who offers her only the slightest of shrugs before turning his attention to his cousin. 

“What are you doing here?” Lucanis asks. She appreciates him getting right to the heart of it. 

“I’m coming with you, cousin. No arguments.”

Lucanis shakes his head. “This is my job.”

Illario’s calm facade seems to crack at this. “This is Crow business.”

“How did you even know we’d be here?” Lucanis asks. 

Illario deftly sidesteps the question, turning the full force of his attention to her. “Rook! Always a pleasure. Touring the city with my cousin? You must allow me to show you the sights.”

“Lucanis said you should go. So you should go,” she replies. She’s not interested in playing his games. 

“This isn’t your type of job, cousin. There’s no one you can charm into dropping their guard. Only fanatics. All you can do is get yourself killed.”

Illario’s face twists from the light-hearted tease into something sharper, more bitter. “You think I’m not good enough?”

“Are you?” Lucanis challenges.

She nearly wants to step between them and their inability to say what they really mean. It’s so obvious that Lucanis doesn’t want Illario here because he’s worried about him. She’s pretty sure it’s not his abilities or his competency that’s truly in question, but that Lucanis cannot bear the idea that Zara might also take Illario from him. And then there’s Illario who won’t answer a simple question and shows up uninvited to get revenge on the woman who took his grandmother and his cousin away. Families are weird. 

“Fine. Have it your way, cousin. You know best.” The words are bitter, filled with an unhappiness that runs so much deeper than this single moment. There is a history here that she doesn’t have access to. She’s seen dynamics like this before, spent years doing her best to try and help families in the Necropolis navigate the aftermath of death. There was a lot less revenge and potential murder involved, but it’s clear that neither of them is saying what they really feel and it’s hurting them both. 

They leave Illario on the roof; he watches them go with unhappy eyes. 

They fight their way through Zara’s minions and guards and sycophantic followers. Lucanis seems sure that she is here, and she and Neve follow behind him and his fury. Camina has never seen him quite like this, focused, sure, but there’s a satisfaction in every kill, a debt he is collecting. He knows the names and habits of these people. Every kill is personal. 

They pause just outside a pair of double doors. “We’re close. I can feel someone using blood magic. A lot of blood magic.”

“You can sense that?” she asks. 

He nods, wincing a little. “It makes the back of my eyes hurt.”

“Are you sure you’re ready to face Zara?” It’s not that she doubts his skills…but with how much this means to him, she’s worried about what would happen if Zara somehow got away. Lucanis cannot take another loss.

His brow furrows, determination shining in his eyes. “It’s time to end her.”

Then that’s that. “I’m right behind you.”

He looks grateful, offers her a grim nod, and then shoves open the double doors. Inside, they are met with a nightmare. It’s the smell that hits her first: the putrid press of rotting meat with hints of overripe fruit. Corpses. A lot of corpses. 

“They’re exsanguinated,” she says, crouching beside a body. All these poor souls will need proper funeral rites after this. 

Neve is covering her mouth with a handkerchief. “The work of a blood mage.”

Lucanis glances around angrily, taking stock of the death and destruction around them. “The only thing we can do now is avenge them.”

True enough. So they press forward, opening one last door down the stairs from the hallway. The coppery tang of blood is thick in the air and then she realizes with horror where all that blood from the corpses outside has gone. 

A lone woman basks lazily in a bath of blood. This must be Zara Renata. She doesn’t look surprised to see them.

“Lucanis. It’s terribly uncivilized to drop in on a lady unannounced. Now the evening's ruined,” Zara croons. She’s beautiful, skin pale and silky with dark black hair that shines even in the low light. Is that what all this blood is for? For vanity?

Rage flashes through Camina, bright and hot and entirely unexpected. “You’re going to pay for everything you’ve done.”

Zara stands, the blood running down her naked body in fat rivulets. “Spoken like a true peasant.”

She doesn’t even need to glance at Lucanis to know that they’re not giving her another chance to speak and then magic and daggers and knives are thrown about. She’s grateful that Neve is there with all her experience fighting Venatori. Even now, Camina knows she’s not the best fighter. She’s had to learn quickly, but fighting blood mages like Zara is not the same as hordes of undead. She dodges and shields against the blood projectiles Zara sends their way, but between her and Neve and Lucanis, they’re able to subdue her and interrupt whatever magical ritual all this blood was for. 

When she is nearly beaten, her once black hair fading to gray, wrinkles and imperfections marring her skin, Lucanis towering over her, she holds up both hands and begins to beg. “So serious, Lucanis! Why don’t we talk? I can tell you much about Venatori…and our pet Crows.”

She and Neve flank Lucanis with their magic at the ready in case this is all a trick. She can hear the crackle of Neve’s frost magic beside her, but she’s not sure they’ll get the chance to unleash their spells. Zara has found the one thing that she could say that might stay Lucanis’s hand. He’s been desperate to know how Zara got close enough to Caterina to kill her, and she’s offering him the answer…she’s just not sure any of them will be willing to pay her price. 

Least of all, Spite. 

She can see that Lucanis is warring with him. There’s a flash of purple in his eyes, and he tilts his head, face twisted into a grimace as his fingers clench and claw. 

Zara seems to sense his hesitation, her words begin tumbling out of her mouth, quick and desperate. “You want to know who betrayed you, don’t you? Who sent you to the Ossuary?”

“Talk,” he growls, dagger pointed at her. 

There’s a zealous gleam to her answering smile. “I knew you were –”

And then Illario drops down from the ceiling. Where the fuck did he even come from? Had he been following them the whole time?

“Illario!” Lucanis’s dagger points at his cousin who stands between him and Zara. 

Illario holds a hand up. “I told you. This is Crow business.” Zara looks momentarily relieved murmuring something Camina doesn’t quite catch before Illario reaches out and snaps her neck. As she collapses to the ground, Spite erupts out of Lucanis. 

“No! MINE!”

There’s a rage-filled flash of magic that knocks both her and Neve off their feet, and as she scrambles up she can see Spite with his wings out on top of Illario, knife poised to strike. 

“Lucanis!” She screams his name on instinct as if it would stop what is about to happen. She sees the knife strike down, right toward Illario’s heart. It is only held off at the last second by Lucanis’s other hand. They are both fighting for control, that much is clear.

Lucanis or Spite, she’s not sure which of them it is that turns to look at her. Perhaps it is both for the way his wing moves so he can see her. “Get Illario…out.” There is a clear desperation in his voice, as though every word is a battle. 

She rushes forward. Perhaps it makes her a bad person, but she doesn’t care about Illario right now. She is certainly not leaving Lucanis alone with Spite. “What? No!”

“Rook, I can’t –” There is so much pain in his voice, so much fear. 

She’s never been afraid of Lucanis or Spite for that matter. He has expressed his concerns about control and she has watched him go days without sleeping, fueled only by coffee and the grim determination not to give into Spite. And in this moment where it is so clear to her that Spite has done something, moved his body in a way he doesn’t want, she’s still not afraid exactly…only afraid for him. 

She’s almost to him, ready to pull him away when she notices Illario’s struggling beneath him. He’s not reaching for a weapon though, but a pin on his vest. “That’s enough!”

And then Lucanis falls back, wings vanishing. What the actual fuck? She rounds on Illario, drawing her staff and readying a spell. 

Illario stands over his cousin, hand outstretched. “Relent,” he orders. 

Lucanis lays there, unable or unwilling to move. 

Is that…was that blood magic? It makes no sense because Illario isn’t a mage. But then whatever he’s done has clearly had quite an effect. She knows that Lucanis will not be happy with her harming Illario, but she will do whatever is necessary to protect him from doing any more blood magic on him. “That was blood magic. What did you do to him?” she demands.

Illario glares at her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t know what happened any better than you. You have to get him out of here.” 

It’s a clear lie, and she’s about to call him on it when Neve moves just into her periphery and gives her just the slightest shake of her head. Something is wrong here and they don’t have all the pieces. Once they get Lucanis out, then they can figure out what it means. 

No part of her wants to let Illario go, but she lowers her hands, dropping her pull on the Fade, on the magic she was ready to send his way. 

“Rook, keep him away. From Treviso. From the Crows. He’s a danger to the family,” Illario says, looking between her and his cousin. There’s a finality to his words, an air of pronouncement, all of Lucanis’s fears made real. 

Camina rushes forward just in time to catch Lucanis’s head as he passes out. But as she watches Illario go, she realizes that he hadn’t seemed the least bit surprised by Lucanis being possessed. Because he must have already known. 

***

Lucanis awakes in the pantry, in the bed he hardly uses, surrounded by the sparse collection of belongings he has gathered in his time in the Lighthouse. There is no indication that Spite had gone for a walk while he slept. It is the first time he remembers sleeping for any real stretch of time since the Ossuary…and he feels no more rested upon waking. 

And then the memories of the Chantry slot back into focus. Zara. Illario. Rook. And, of course, Spite. He feels ill when he thinks of leaping at Illario, dagger in hand, ready to kill him. It had taken every scrap of strength he possessed to keep from killing Illario in that moment…Spite had wanted to so badly that it bled into his own thoughts, his own feelings. Some part of him had wanted Illario to hurt, and that terrifies him. 

If he could hurt Illario of all people, is no one safe around him?

Spite is…sulking in the corner. “What? You didn’t get restless while I was asleep?”

“Should have been. Ours,” the demon replies. 

He hears footsteps approaching the pantry: Rook’s. What to say to her? He owes her an apology and so much more than that. He stands, rubbing at his eyes as though that could banish the bone-deep tiredness that’s settled within him. 

Rook looks relieved as she enters. “Ah, you’re awake. I wasn’t sure…” She’s carrying a tray of food and there’s so much concern in her eyes, it’s difficult to meet them. She sets the tray down, eyes roving over him as though checking for injury or…maybe just Spite. 

He backs up. “Yes…I’ve been…I've been trying to figure out what to say to you. And... there aren't words enough to apologize. I never wanted you to see me like that.”

Out of control. Dangerous. A monster. Who is he anymore? He couldn’t kill Zara…or Ghilan’nain…and then…

She waves his apology away with a wave of her hand and a shake of her head. “I’m not going anywhere.”

That’s less comforting than intended. With how easily he nearly hurt Illario…doesn’t she realize that no one is safe from him? If he was a better man, he’d thank her…have something to say about the kindness and understanding she continues to offer him, but it is not his for the taking. 

“We need to talk about Illario.”

She nods grimly. “That was blood magic he used to control Spite…to control you.”

It unmistakably was. It doesn’t make sense…unless. He doesn’t even want to consider it. “I know. Something’s not right.”

Rook’s brows knit together. “There was a moment there…it seemed like Zara knew him. Did…the night you were captured, did Illario know you were boarding that ship?”

What Rook’s implying…it’s impossible. They were raised together; they’re like brothers. Illario…he remembers a night in Vyrantium something rotten simmering beneath the surface. Other conversations…other times he had failed to provide reassurances to Illario and glimpsed something in his eyes that looked like resentment. 

“Yes,” he says flatly. 

There is something akin to pity in her eyes and he doesn’t want it. “Zara said that Crows were working with Venatori…could he…would he do that?” 

“Rook…” He says it like a warning. He’s finding it harder and harder to look at her, to listen to her. No part of him wants to even consider this. 

“He’s up to something. He wants you to stay away from the Crows…insisted that you’re a danger to your family.”

“And he’s not wrong!” The words are loud in the smallness of the pantry. Whatever else Illario is or has done…he can at least look at him and see the clear and present danger. It’s more than he can say for Rook. “If I cannot stay in control…”

“Lucanis.” The way she says his name is so gentle, so full of kindness. “The way you’re dealing with Spite…it’s not working.”

She’s not wrong either, but what is he supposed to do? How is he supposed to deal with this? He’s an abomination…either he gives in and Spite wins or he is… this . “What would you have me do, Rook? Emmrich looks at me like I’m a thesis topic and you keep insisting that talking to Spite will somehow change what this is. What I am.”

“I know that the way Watchers view spirits is different from much of the world…but there’s got to be another way.”

He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. Her optimism is her best and worst quality. “Maybe.”

He watches his dismissal hit, the way her mouth thins. She looks away from him. “I’ll give you some time. Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”

But she’s done more than enough for him, so he lets her leave without another word.