#now I have to somehow try and rewrite the whole damn thing

[jollyfang]

Well… today is off to a great start. Woke up to find that my phone deleted all but a half a paragraph of the fanfic I was working on before bed…

I’m fine. I’m totally fine- not like it was anything I was super proud of or anything… it’s totally FINE. 🥲

[mrs-gauche]

Let's talk about the Red Lyrium Idol

(…Because it's not like this thing has been discussed to death over the past ten years, right? 😂 *drops my two cents in the Scrooge McDuck money bin*)

Ah yes… The red lyrium idol. The one thing that's given me a headache since 2018, as I'm still trying to figure out how this damn thing could possibly fit into my bazillion tinfoil theories.

Whether it's the first official DA4 teaser in 2018, the Blue Wraith comic series or the entirety of the last chapter of Tevinter Nights, a lot of the supplementary media and promotional stuff setting up the course for DA4 seems to be centered around the idol. Quite literally, in some cases, like this mural from the first 2018 teaser:

It certainly led us to think that the idol won't just be another McGuffin (or so I hope lol), but other than that, it's still heavely shrouded in mystery…

Which is why I will now make an attempt to unravel this and gather every single bit of information we have on it (so far) and maybe that'll get us closer to some sort of answer in the end (actually, it won't, because this got SO long that I had to split this post in two parts lol No one's going to read all of this anyway 💀)!

Look, I just needed to get this behemoth of a post out before we might get an actual substantial trailer tomorrow and none of this will probably matter anymore. 😂💀

(Note: This whole thing was initially intended to be solely for myself to keep track of any information we've gotten about the idol since DA2. But since it's gotten SO long over the years, I figured why not just rewrite it into a somewhat coherent text and post it on here? :D ......Seriously, it's really, REALLY effing long.)

The Idol's Journey so far

To me, the idol always seemed to be something like "The One Ring" in LOTR. A forged ancient artifact with creepy unknown powers that is said to feel "alive", almost as if it possesses a will of its own, seeing as it has somehow found its way from countless random people, back to (presumably) its former owner. It also appears to be somewhat cursed, given that almost everyone who held it at one point seems to have died or gone mad by now (Yeah, I'm very worried about Varric and Hawke 👀).

Let us start with a quick summary of the journey the idol has made in the span of about 12-13 years (not counting the unknown timespan in which the last chapter of Tevinter Nights takes place):

First discovered by Hawke and Varric in an ancient Thaig in the Deep Roads.

Stolen by Bartrand, who then made a quick trip to Rivain.

Sold to Meredith, who turned it into a sword.

Taken out of Meredith's petrified corpse by Carta dwarves.

Sold again to a Tevinter mage, who brought it to House Qintara in Ventus.

Handed to a secret agent of Fen'Harel named Gaius (who was impersonating Magister Qintara).

Traded away to Tractus Danarius.

Handed to Magister Nenealeus at Castellum Tenebris to be used as part of a ritual.

Picked up by Cedric Marquette after the fortress fell, while trying to escape.

Handed back to Tractus Danarius, who then probably (not confirmed) went to Nevarra to perform another blood magic ritual.

Picked up by a Mortalitasi who (maybe) took it to Tevinter.

(Supposedly!) ended up in a vault under an auction house in Llomerryn in Rivain, where it was (supposedly!) retrieved by Solas.

That's quite the journey… that you wouldn't even know half about if you didn't read the comics or Tevinter Nights. But whereas the book and comics were all published after the first teaser trailer in 2018, after which the idol became the center of the fandom's attention and speculation, it should be noted that a connection to the idol was in fact already made way back in 2014, when people noticed that the image of Solas holding Flemeth's lifeless body at the end of Inquisition was very reminiscent of something else.

...Which brings us to the point of what the idol is even depicting to begin with.

Description

Before I'll start to give my own description based on the models in-game, the teaser and concept art, I'd like to quote the people who've actually seen it in person.

In the last chapter of Tevinter Nights, we are being told three tales by three different people, who all describe the same idol differently.

The Carta Assassin: "A couple hugging, too thin to be dwarves - but it's sitting there, glowing softly like a ruby lit by the grace of the Maker himself. […] It's heavier than you'd think - lyrium's heavier than you'd think, too, but this was heavy even for that. When I hefted it in my hand, it was like it wanted to keep moving, like it was liquid inside."

The Mortalitasi: "An idol crafted from red lyrium, which seemed to show two lovers, or a god mourning her sacrifice. It whispered in our minds when we saw it […]."

The Orlesian Bard/Solas: "He whispered something as he picked it up, tracing his gloved fingers gently along the crowned figure who comforted the other."

The one thing that all of these seem to have in common though is two figures who embrace each other in some way.

Which is interesting, because in all the depictions of the idol we've seen so far, it clearly shows three people instead of two. Granted, the third figure is a bit cramped up in the back of the crowned figure, but what's strange is that not even Solas himself mentions this third figure.

Most notable though is the crowned female looking figure in the center, which is holding onto the two other figures on each side of the ring shaped object (or it's the two figures holding onto the female?). The figures themselves look rather goulish, deadly or skeletal, with their bone structure clearly visible and all their expressions captured in a mix of horror or torment. The small carved-in lines coming from the middle figure's eye sockets also resemble black tears, much like we've seen on "The Mother" in Awakening.

There's also no sign of clothing, which is all the more apparent on the concept art of the idol, in which the breast of the middle figure is.. much more prominent. lol (We don't make fun of saggy boobs in this house, it's just nature and gravity after all, but for the sake of observation, I will note that they do remind me of Broodmother boobs, too 😂), aside from a hint of what could be a veil on the middle figure's head.

At the bottom of the idol, the lower bodies of the figures seem to fully submerge within its name-giving red lyrium and this "claw" type thing, which is coming off in the shape of crystalline red lyrium spikes at the tail end, though in the concept art and the DA2 model, these spikes were clearly more like red lyrium roots. But either way, the bottom makes it kinda look like it's been broken/ripped off?

We can also see tentacle like features, that remind me of the figures we've seen in the mural in the 2020 teaser and the depiction in the 25th anniversary book that revealed to us what the Archdemons were initially supposed to look like. 👀

I'd also like to point out that in the original concept art of the idol, the ears of the crowned figure look much more pointy to me than in later versions. 👀

There's also this "ring", that I've seen many people connect to how the Veil is often portrayed in Solas' murals.

But if this ring is supposed to depict the Veil, then what could it mean for the crowned figure reaching across to hold that ominous third figure on the "other side"?

And yes, I recognize that this ominous third figure also seems to be missing a left arm, just like another certain main character. 👀

The one thing that stands out the most though, is probably the crown itself. Most people might first associate it with Andraste, when the same shape can be traced as far back as ancient statues of Mythal.

Yeah, there's definitely a pattern here. 😂

That being said…

Connection to Mythal & Solas

Okay, we all know about the theory that Andraste might have been Mythal's previous host, right? We all know about the parallels between Mythal's story, Andraste, Flemeth, etc. And after comparing the idol to Flemeth and Meredith in their moment of death, considering all of the above/following and how old this thing potentially is, I will now make a wild guess here and argue that the idol is in fact depicting Mythal's death.

"He whispered something as he picked it up, tracing his gloved fingers gently along the crowned figure who comforted the other. But I could not make out the words, for I fear they were elven."

Not only does Solas seem to hold sentimental value for whoever the crowned figure is supposed to be, while also talking to it in elven, but the way he describes to "caress" the idol in Tevinter Nights does also seem to mirror how Flemythal was comforting him at the end of DAI.

However, I always thought it was a bit odd how Solas describes the idol as "a figure comforting another", when… tbh, "comforting" would probably be last thing that comes to my mind when I look at this...

"Agony" would be more fitting here, maybe? lol Kinda begs the question of how Mythal was murdered, too, with this being her expression in her moment of death? 👀

Without getting too much into it here, if there's one thing we can take from everything we've learned so far about their past, Solas' relationship with Mythal must've been a rather complicated one, to say the least.

"He did not want a body, but she asked him to come. He left a scar when he burned her off his face."

Solas calls Mythal "the best of the elven gods", calling her "the mother, protective and fierce", and Solas is even described in the designer's notes as "Mythal's oldest friend" who is all about free will, yet if the spirit origin theory is true and Cole's cryptic comments in Trespasser are in fact about them, it was Mythal who gave Solas a body against his will, potentially bound/enslaved him with her vallaslin, and maybe even forced him to act against his original purpose?

"You should have seen me when I was younger. Hot-blooded and cocky, always ready to fight."

Cole: "You didn't do it to be right. You did it to save them." Inquisitor: "Solas, what is Cole talking about?" Solas: "A mistake. One of many made by a much younger elf who was certain he knew everything."

How much of what happened was Solas acting out Mythal's will, or rather, acting out of vengeance and pain in reaction to Mythal's death? How much of it was him acting downright impulsive?

Solas: “Cole is a spirit. The death of the real Cole wounded him, perverted him from his purpose. To regain that part of himself, he must forgive.” Varric: “You don’t just forgive someone killing you.” Solas: “You don’t. A spirit can.”

Or was it Mythal's death itself that "wounded him and perverted him from his purpose", just like he described what happened to Cole?

And what does that say about Mythal then, when she clearly hasn't forgiven her murderers and still strives for vengeance after all this time? What if Solas' own perception of Mythal and all the circumstances surrounding her murder is warped because he was once bound to her? 👀

Anyway. To get back to topic.

So if we assume that the idol is in fact depicting Mythal's death, then that brings us to the next question of why the idol is even made of red lyrium? Or rather, what is Mythal's connection to red lyrium?

We know that red lyrium is tainted blood of a Titan. Mythal was the first to kill a Titan and mine their blood for things we won't get into in this post. So, how did the idol end up in the Deep Roads, anyway? How long had it been there? One thing that's kinda strange to me, is how the DA wiki page about the idol says that it was forged by the dwarves, solely based on the fact that it was initially found in the Deep Roads, when we have no actual evidence for that. We've seen statues of both Mythal and the Dread Wolf in the Deep Road section in Trespasser where the mining of lyrium was undergone, but we don't know if the dwarves even had any part in building them as well.

Would the dwarves forge an idol of the elven deity who conquered them and killed their Titan, if they were somehow forced to do so? We also have to remember that dwarves were and still are the only ones able to actually mine raw lyrium safely, but even the Carta dwarves in Tevinter Nights had to take several precautions in order to recover the red lyrium idol from Meredith's corpse. And even then, many of them still fell shaking or went mad in its presence like Bartrand.

So if it only takes that little exposure to have that much of an effect on someone's sanity, how were the ancient dwarves or anyone even able to create it in the first place? What if the idol was initially made of blue lyrium but was then somehow corrupted?

And if we take one moment to really think about what an idol actually is.

"An object representing extreme devotion and religious worship to a god."

While Solas doesn't think of any of the Evanuris as actual gods, he still seems to hold Mythal at such a high regard that he wouldn't even speak of her at a sacred place like the Temple of Mythal (whether or not that was because he just wanted to withhold any secret ancient knowledge). He's able to fully recite the invocation to Mythal if you bring him with you to her altar. He also looks exactly like the sentinels in Mythal's temple.

I could go on, but generally speaking, there are so many little hints pointing to Solas being a former slave/servant of Mythal that, again, we won't get into here, but it's important to mention when trying to figure out why the idol (presumably) even belongs to Solas.

"The idol's journey is now complete, and it has found its master."

In Tevinter Nights, the Dread Wolf claims that the red lyrium idol belongs to him. He also made sure to punish those who tried to misuse it, going so far as to march in with an entire army of spirits and snapping a guy's neck with his jaw. (Yup, you're better off not to touch the Dread Wolf's stuff for dirty blood rituals, kids.)

"You use my idol carelessly, and in doing so, you threaten all creation."

Additionally, in the last chapter of Tevinter Nights, Charter and other spies conclude that Solas must need the idol for whatever ritual he's planning, while Solas in Bard disguise claims that he's already in possession of the idol now and therefore, I quote, "cannot be stopped". (Though I personally still don't actually buy a single thing about his vivid tale at that auction house, but we'll get back to this later. lol)

And if the idol belongs to Solas, was he the one who created it, or did he order the dwarves or someone else to make it for him? But why would he intentionally make an idol out of red lyrium, anyway? He is fully aware of the dangers and corruption that comes with being exposed to red lyrium and its use. Especially considering that red lyrium is blighted and how he repeatedly expresses great concern over the Blights and gets furious over the Grey Wardens' attempts to preempt them by killing the Archdemons (because he obviously knows more than us).

So, does he know a way to use it without getting corrupted like everyone else? The Seekers of Truth are so far the only ones we've seen to be immune to red lyrium thanks to having their minds touched by a spirit of Faith during their vigil. Could Solas' connection to spirits/his hypothetical spirit origin allow him to use the idol without it effecting him?

But if any of this is true, then l'm again asking myself what even was the purpose of the idol to begin with? Why or when was it created? How does it differ from any other red lyrium, and what could Solas have used it for in the ancient past?

Powers & Effects

So, let's talk about what this thing can actually do (as far as we know).

(Btw, this is the part where I will shamelessly copy a lot straight from the DA wiki, because truth be told, I'm just a German struggling with limited vocabulary and I figured there's simply no way to summarize this any better than the wiki already has. 💀)

Just like any other red lyrium, we know that being exposed to the idol for too long will make you mad/paranoid/possessive/violent, while also grant you special powers, until overuse causes your body to be completely overtaken by red lyrium. It seems to thin the Veil wherever it is currently kept, allowing spirits or demons to interact with the physical world.

It also emanates a song that is slowly turning people who hear it insane.

The Song

"It sings… sick music." "It eats you inside until you're nothing." "It creeps into your thoughts, humming." "They hear a different song. The song behind the door old whispers want opened. They are dead and dark and done." "Songs screaming far away. It wants to wake up but can't remember how."

(- Cole's comments about red lyrium/red templars)

After Bartrand took the idol and left Varric and Hawke to die in the primeval Thaig, he started hearing voices, claiming the idol was "singing" to him. Even after selling it, Bartrand could still hear the idol and was eventually driven mad by its red lyrium.

Three years later, it is discovered that Bartrand had chipped a piece of the idol off and left it in his estate, which causes the house to behave like it was haunted and the Veil was torn.

Then during the "Haunted" quest, Varric himself remarks several times to hear music while walking through the estate, much like the Carta assassin in Tevinter Nights recalled to have heard "music in the wind, like some old song I heard as a kid but can't quite remember" when obtaining the idol from Meredith's corpse.

Important to mention here is that Varric seems to also be the only one in the party able to hear this song.

Varric: "Hey… is that music? Where is that coming from?" Hawke: "In don't hear anything." Varric: "Where is that singing coming from? You hear it, right, Hawke?" Varric: "Where is that voice coming from?" Hawke: "What voice?" Varric: "I can barely hear it… I wish I could make out the words."

Varric also told us that, after Bartrand went mad, he tortured his non-dwarven servants by cutting pieces off them to help them "hear the song".

(And remember, the idol was found in an ancient primeval Thaig in the Deep Roads, sitting on something like an altar, indicating that it was being worshiped by the ancient dwarves as well. Presumably because they too were being influenced by the idol's/red lyrium's song?)

Haunted

During the "Haunted" quest, we learn that the mere presence of a shard of the idol in the estate causes:

"Voices whispering in the walls"

Random objects moving on their own

Apparitions/screaming spirits appear running across the floors

When Varric picks up the piece of the idol, he starts to exhibit the same symptoms of madness Bartrand showed, at which point Hawke can either let Varric keep the piece, or can take it from him with the intent of having Sandal destroy it.

If Hawke asks Anders to diagnose Bartrand in Act 2, he suspects a demon at work, however Bartrand is a dwarf. Instead, he determines that "his mind has been poisoned by something powerful".

In Tevinter Nights, the Carta assassin recalls that, in the attempt to retrieve the idol from Meredith's corpse, most of his colleagues fell shaking and whispering the closer they got to it.

Meredith

After Bartrand sold the idol to Meredith, she reshapes it into her sword Certainty, which does eventually drive her insane as well. It also gives her unnatural powers, such as the ability to animate the statues in the Gallows, and even limited flight capabilities.

(My question is though, were the things happening in that final fight directly caused by the idol or was this just the result of the Veil being already weakened that much by the many terrible things that happened at that place/Kirkwall in general?)

Anyhow, during the final battle at the Gallows, Meredith overuses the lyrium sword, causing it to burst into dust and petrify her into a statue.

Though as we all know now, some part of Meredith seems to have survived somehow, as her… mind(?) or something was shown to now still "live" within the red lyrium somewhere in Kirkwall at the end of Absolution. She (or "it") also seems to have somewhat control over the red templars now, too.

So, how is this possible? What exactly is she now, if it even is herself and not just a manifestation/echo of her memories or something? Could it have something to do with the idol? No one really knows (and we might never find out, if Netflix won't give us a second season, anyway lol), but I do think it's curious how the idol is likely depicting Mythal's death, who didn't actually die either and lived on through the ages as a type of lingering "wisp" clinging to various hosts. 👀

I also want to point out how Solas did suspiciously include Meredith's petrified corpse in his mural in the 2020 teaser as well, placing her right under that ominous upside down figure with the tentacles.

Furthermore, just like Meredith, the idol also seems to be somewhat indestructable. lol After Meredith's sword burst into dust, it regrew inside her petrified corpse (which Solas was apparently also aware of). What's interesting is that it regenerated in Meredith's chest of all places. You know, like, where the heart is supposed to be? 👀

Then there's also this curious line from Anders, when talking about Varric acting strange after obtaining a shard of the idol:

"This thing's magic seems only more potent when broken."

I've mentioned it before, but with the spikes (or roots in DA2) at the bottom part of the idol making it look like it was ripped or broken off of something, you have to wonder if its current state is somewhat broken, even after regenerating.

"Hot-Blooded"

During the Haunted quest, Fenris will remark this:

"Whatever is here is angry."

In DAI, Cole repeatedly comments on how red lyrium feels "very angry" and how it is "less angry when it's cold". We know for a fact that red lyrium emanates a noticeable heat. A corrupted Bartrand is especially weak to cold/ice magic.

While anger is generally associated with heat, I find this aspect particularly interesting, given that red lyrium is tainted blood of a Titan.

And building on that, while still searching for further connections between red lyrium, the idol and Mythal… Remember how the ancient sarcophagus in the Blue Wraith and Dark Fortress comic was used in a ritual, in which lyrium combined with fire of a Great dragon carved lyrium infused markings into Fenris' and Shirallas' skin, granting them special powers.

Not only was this ancient sarcophagus specifically built only for elves, and its design resembling that of Mythal's statues…

…but here we have a case in which lyrium is purposefully "set on fire" by a Great dragon to create "elven super soldiers". Mythal is always depicted as a dragon. And she mined lyrium in humongous amounts.

Again, red lyrium emanates heat. If this was common practice in ancient times, then I feel like it's not surprising that a Titan would eventually be pretty damn angry in reaction to its blood being continuously burned for centuries [insert boiling blood joke here].

So, aside from the red lyrium being blighted, could there be a connection in Mythal burning the Titans' blood? As far as we know, it did take a couple of aeons in which Mythal (presumably) continued to mine (and burn?) the Titans' blood, before the ancient elves sealed the Deep Roads for good, because they discovered something… bad. As Solas himself declares in the vision described at the mural depicting a Titan's death:

"Let this place be forgotten. Let no one wake its anger." "The vision grows dark. An aeon seems to pass. Then the runes crackle, as if filled with an angry energy. A new vision appears: elves collapsing caverns, sealing the Deep Roads with stone and magic." "Terror, heart-pounding, ice-cold, as the last of the spells is cast."

And there it is again. That anger we're talking about. What's so interesting to me, is how this does sort of come full circle with Mythal and the idol after all, since the motivation behind Mythal's actions, even after thousands of years, remains her unwavering desire for vengeance upon the people who betrayed and murdered her, which, in a way, does mirror the same anger/heat that the Titan is emanating from its tainted blood.

And speaking of blood……

A Ritual Blade

In Tevinter Nights, we learned that the idol is able to produce a blade, which is then used as part of a blood magic ritual.

"The Tevinter mage was killing his slaves. […] He had cut the throat of one of them, and then another, catching the blood of his victims on the idol as he made his way around the circle. […] The Tevinter mage raised the idol before him, and I saw a spike of lyrium spring from the base of the idol, so that all at once, it was not merely an idol, but a ritual blade. He slashed his own hand, and a wave of power pulsed through the cavern. It was as though we were the blood, and the cavern was the body through which it flowed, and we fell, all of us, to the ground, our minds pulled into the raw chaos of the Fade by the power of his ritual."

In the end of the Dark Fortress comic, the idol produced another red lyrium sword, that could be fully detached and was then placed onto the before-mentioned sarcophagus, turning Shirallas into a raving beserker that was pretty much invincible as long as he was in possession of that same sword.

While the blue lyrium infused sword that was used in Fenris' ritual simply dissolved in the process, the sword produced by the idol could "regenerate" and was especially resistant to Great dragon fire.

"Unlike the lyrium-infused swords of the so-called Arcane warriors, this sword should survive the ritual."

In the final fight against him, Marquette comments on how Shirallas "feeds energy to the sword from the red lyrium in his veins" and how in turn "the sword heals his wounds".

So in both the comic and Tevinter Nights, the idol/the weapon produced from the idol seems to draw power specifically from the blood of its wielder. It makes me wonder if it was initially intended to be used this way, since we have to remember that it still presumably belongs to Solas, who claims to not practice blood magic, because it seems to make it more difficult to enter the Fade.

Which is ironic, given what the mage in Tevinter Nights did to disrupt the Fade, but also how the Magisters Sidereal used a massive blood ritual to enter the Fade physically.

And oddly enough, in your first conversation with Solas about blood magic, he makes this curious analogy with daggers as an example…

Inquisitor: Every time I've seen blood magic used, it has been for some evil purpose. Solas: I once saw a woman being stabbed in the stomach with a dagger. She died slowly, in angony. It was repulsive. If the Chantry outlawed daggers, would that stop the people from using it? Of course not. […]" Inquisitor: "You don't need to sacrifice a slave's life to make a dagger." Solas: "I suppose it depends upon the dagger."

So… Could Solas be referencing Mythal's death here? Or what if the dagger here is referring to the idol in its blade form? What the heck does he mean by "I suppose it depends upon the dagger"? Was a slave's life sacrificed to create the idol maybe?

But if blood magic wasn't the sole purpose for why it was made, then what else could the idol as a ritual blade be used for?

Which brings us to…

Dalish mythology

According to Dalish legends, Fen'Harel told the Creators and the Forgotten Ones that the Avvar had forged a "terrible weapon", a blade that would end the war between both clans of gods. He told the Creators that it was forged in the heavens, while the Forgotten Ones were told that it was hidden in the Abyss. And when the gods went seeking it, Fen'Harel sealed them both in their realms forever.

Okay. So, let's just assume for a second that the blade in this legend was actually the idol in its blade form. Because hell, what are the odds of having two "super powerful ancient blades that belong to Solas"? lol

If they are in fact the same weapon and the part about Solas tricking the gods is true, why were the Evanuris and the Forgotten Ones so eager to get this thing, to the point that they would fell into a trap?

And with this, I'd also like to point out the level design in the scene in which Flemeth takes Kieran's Old God soul in the Fade. I can't help but feel like the statue of Dirthamen being stabbed in the back with a sword, crying a stream of blood, resulting in a huge pool of blood, as well as a bloody ouroboros symbol on the ground, is a very deliberate design choice. Especially considering the context of this scene with the revelation about Flemeth and Mythal, I'd argue this is all in reference to how Mythal was betrayed and murdered.

Again, the idol could depict Mythal in her moment of death. In the final fresco in the rotunda, the one Solas never finished before leaving the Inquisition, we see a wolf looming over a dragon slain by a blade.

In the last visual of the 2022 cinematic that, going by Varric's narration, could potentially depict the destruction of the Veil, Solas appears to hold something that resembles a blade with a very destinct handle. Additionally, we've since discovered an icon hidden on the Steam page of DA4, that shows a dagger with an identical shape and the same glowy purple as the Dreadwolf title.

So we have the idol in its blade form, the blade Mythal was potentially slain with, the blade Solas is holding in the 2022 cinematic, Solas mentioning a dagger in relation to blood magic and Fen'Harel's blade in Dalish legends.

That's a lot of blades... and a lot of blood. lol

The Hunt of the Fell Wolf

"The Hunt of the Fell Wolf" is the title of a poem that can be found in the Jaws of Hakkon DLC. It tells a story of former Inquisitor Ameridan, his friend Haron and their fight against a demon wolf.

Along with numerous odd things in this tale that could be interpreted as some kind of metaphor (or just the devs messing with us, if you want to know more, please check out this post), it also mentions an "idol of fade-touched stone" in connection to the demon wolf.

The wounded knight in darkness Found within the cavern’s gloom An idol of fade-touched stone, Which could prove the monster’s doom.

In the poem, after a grim fight, the wolf takes Ameridan's friend Haron to its lair, a "labyrinth of winding cave" (which many believe is referring to the Deep Roads, just like the ancient Thaig in DA2 where Hawke and Varric found the red lyrium idol originally) where Haron, oddly enough, also happens to find an idol. What's intruiging though, is that this idol seems to be connected to the wolf in such a way that he can only be defeated if both him and the idol are destroyed and struck down at the same time.

With burning blade, Ameridan And monster met again Whilst elsewhere did Haron valiantly With demon-wards contend.

As demon-stone was shattered, Ameridan struck true: Beast and spirit—both felled at once, Though neither hunter knew.

"Beast and spirit—both felled at once"

Two entities that are connected across two different places… as in the physical body and the spirit maybe?

As in the waking world and the Fade?

So, let's reiterate.

The red lyrium idol belongs to the Dread Wolf. Cole remarks how he can feel that Solas is "in both places". The word "Dread Wolf" itself is an anagram for "World" and "Fade". We've talked about the popular spirit origin theory before, Solas taking a physical form against his will because of Mythal. The whole matter of Solas' "true name" before he called himself Pride. Solas' entire personal quest, which may or may not mirror his own past, a spirit of Wisdom being denied its original purpose, turning into a pride demon ("He wants to give wisdom not orders"). His strange remarks at the end of Cole's personal quest ("We cannot change our nature by wishing"). The fact that Solas makes Cole forget about his true identity, just like spirit!Cole does. The visual portrayal of Solas "consuming" Flemeth's powers at the end of DAI. The way in which Solas doesn't recognize anyone in the waking world as "people", but will vehemently debate you on why spirits should be considered people.

"But the People… They need me." (- Solas to Flemeth at the end of DAI) "Never again." (- Solas after burning the mages who were responsible for Wisdom's corruption) "From this moment, should you ever bind a spirit, your life is mine." (- the Dread Wolf's final warning to the mages in Tevinter Nights)

All of this considered, what could the poem in JOH imply for the connection between Solas and the Dread Wolf/the Dread Wolf and the idol?

"They made bodies from the Earth, and the Earth was afraid. It fought back, but they made it forget."

One theory assumes that the creation of the Veil lead to the separation of the ancient elves' bodies and their souls/spirits, assuming that before the creation of the Veil, the Evanuris somehow made bodies from the Titans/lyrium for spirits to manifest and then enslaved/bound them to their will by marking those bodies with their vallaslin.

But if that's true, then what happened to Solas when he created the Veil?

"He broke the dreams to stop the old dreams from waking. The wolf chews its leg off to escape the trap."

In all the murals, tarot cards and illustrations, the Dread Wolf and Solas are always depicted separately.

What really IS the Dread Wolf? And what is he to Solas?

"It was a beast unlike any I had ever seen. Lupine in appearance, but the size of a high dragon, with shaggy spiked hide and six burning eyes like a pride demon, and it came to us on wings of fire that resolved themselves into a horde of lesser demons."

From what little we know of the Dread Wolf himself, he only seems to exist within the Fade (that is to say, before the Veil, Solas was already depicted as a wolf, presumably even before his rebellion and before the Evanuris "bestowed" him with the title "Fen'Harel"). In the Mortalitasi's tale in Tevinter Nights, his army of spirits follows the mages back to the waking world, yet the Dread Wolf himself remains in the Fade. In one of the frescoes in the rotunda, Solas portrays the Black City surrounded by the six burning red eyes that resemble those of the Dread Wolf, almost like he's keeping watch over the eternal prison of those he banished. In the Tower tarot card, the Dread Wolf is ominously looming over Solas, almost like it's about to consume him, while in one of the Trespasser murals, it looks more like the Dread Wolf follows his lead. And then there's the DA4 2018 teaser mural, in which they're opposing each other, only seperated by the red lyrium idol in the center of the Veil.

If the red lyrium idol is connected to Solas like the idol in the poem is connected to the wolf, could this be part of the reason Solas is so desperate to find it? Does it possess some kind of spirit? Can the Dread Wolf only be defeated if the idol is destroyed at the same time, just like in the poem?

Where is it now?

So where's the damn thing now?

Well, in my opinion, there are two options.

Option 1) The bard's tale in Tevinter Nights was complete bullshit. lol

Despite Solas trying to convince us that he already obtained the idol in a vault some time ago under an auction house in Llomerryn, it's possible that, much like his whole charade in that chapter, this tale was also entirely fabricated. lol

To make it short, here is a list of arguments for why the "bard's tale" could've been a complete lie:

Solas attended this spy meeting specifically for information on the idol's whereabouts (because he doesn't actually know where it is currently?).

Everything until the last two pages was an act.

Both the Mortalitasi and the Carta Assassin point out several contradictions within his tale.

Upon hearing the other spies assuming that he needs the idol, it would just make sense that he would want them/Charter to believe that he’s now in possession of the idol and “cannot be stopped”, so that they would drop all effort to find it before him.

On the very last page of the book, there's a lists of bullet points of information when Charter is about to write down her report, and it does not explicitly say “He has the idol” but rather just what it looks like, which suggests that Charter didn’t buy his story either.

So if this was all lies, the last known location of the idol would therefore be the unknown person who took it when escaping from the Dread Wolf's spirit army in the Grand Necropolis in the tale of the Mortalitasi.

Meaning that Solas would therefore still be searching for it now. (Which would actually be kind of hilarious, considering how there's likely gonna be a ten year timeskip since DAI, so he would've been searching for the flippin thing for the better part of a decade now. 😂 We know from the end of the Blue Wraith comics that he had followed the idol's path via eluvian, but maybe he just lost track of it at some point? In fact, the last we heard from him, Solas was apparently busy pursuing some Venatori people to get another ancient artifact called the Crucious Stone in the The Missing comic, much like he prevented the Tevinter mage in Nevarra from using his idol. Solas after ten years of searching for the idol was probably like "Oh fuck it, I give up, on to McGuffin Nr 2 then". lmao)

In an interview with the comic writers Nunzio DeFilippis and Christina Weir, they talked about how in their initial draft of Dark Fortress, Solas actually *got* the idol(!!) from two of his agents by using the eluvian located at Nenealeus' place before BioWare stepped in and requested a change. 👀 That version would've explained how Solas was able to track the idol through the eluvian we see at the end. Their own interpretation was that Solas can only overlook a certain radius within the area of where another eluvian is located. Which would actually support the assumption that Solas might've lost track of the idol at some point after Nenealeus left the place… but that's just their interpretation and not official BioWare canon (yet), sooo…. Hm.

Option 2) Solas has the idol now.

So let's assume that the part about him obtaining the idol in Tevinter Nights was actually true and it's now in his possession.

Aside from this, the only thing that could speak for Solas already having the idol in the beginning of DA4, is once again the final visual in the 2022 cinematic.

If this cinematic is in fact playing at the beginning of the game as a general re-introduction to the lore and the last visual is depicting Solas in the middle of destroying the Veil using the idol, then.. well yeah, there it is, in his hand…. at least, for now. Making Solas succeed in the first 10 minutes, I guess? lol

……Unless!

See, a few years ago, I speculated about how the idol might actually be the perfect plot device/motivation for our new protagonist to get involved in the whole Solas deal without even knowing who he is.

Let's say the last visual in the 2022 cinematic is actually showing us a hypothetical scenario, and not something that has already happened/is currently happening. Like, Varric gives this expository narration explaining who Solas is and what might happen if we don't succeed in getting the idol. (Notice how Varric says "And we're the only ones who can stop him" at the end… Like there's still a chance to stop him before this actually happens.) We know from Tevinter Nights that Charter knows that Solas needs the idol for whatever ritual he's planning. And Charter obviously informed the Inquisition/Varric about this as well. So the next logical step for the Inquisition now would be to obtain the idol (whether or not the bard's tale in TN was true) to prevent this ritual at any cost, right?

The comic The Missing re-emphasized that Varric is now in charge of getting people that Solas doesn't know. And this might be where the new protagonist gets recruited by Varric (who is still a spymaster after all) and gets assigned the alias "Rook" for a heist mission to obtain the idol. (And after a very thorough observation of the DA4 reddit leaks from 2023… it looks like Rook might've actually succeeded in this potential quest?)

While we don't know when the stuff in the leaks actually takes place within DA4's storyline, I think it's safe to say that Rook will obtain the idol at some point in the story and that it will play a pivotal role, if the blurb on the Steam page for DA4 is to be believed. lol

As well as what could likely end up being the game's icon, found on the Steam page.

And again, remember how in the Hunt of the Fell Wolf poem, it seemed like Ameridan struck the wolf’s body in the waking world, while his friend Haron killed the spirit (inside the idol?) in the Fade. What could this imply for DA4 then, if we are applying the role of Ameridan, Haron and the wolf in this tale to the Inquisitor, Rook and Solas?? 👀 Is this how we can stop him? The Inquisitor confronts Solas in the waking world, while Rook has to destroy the idol/fight the Dread Wolf in the Fade?

Or could it just be a metaphor for the Inquisitor in DA4 keeping Solas occupied to distract him from Rook, while they can figure out another secret way to deal with him/how to get/destroy the idol?

See, the thing is, we have to remember that this is after all, a video game. lol Meaning that, if our protagonist gets to carry around a powerful ancient artifact/weapon, I would assume that this has to be somehow implemented in the gameplay as well. What we can take from the short footage of the 2023 reddit leak, is that Rook might carry the idol (if it really IS the same thing) while still fighting with their own main weapon in combat. So, what if the idol serves as more of a special power tool outside of combat, for example, like the anchor did in DAI, where it can only be used for special occasions? Let's say, the idol in its blade form can't be used in battle but is able to "split" the Veil or reality, like the anchor was able to open and close rifts? Or, if we assume that the idol is something like an ancient phylactery (which btw is my favorite theory and I will talk about in my second post), maybe it can be used as some kind of "tracking device"? Actually, I'm super curious to learn how Rook is even able to carry it like this in the first place, since we know what kind of effect it usually has on people. lol

~~~~~

Anyway, I'll make a hard cut here now and save the rest of this behemoth of a post for a second separate post (because I also just realized that tumblr doesn't let me add any more images 😂💀), so if any of you actually made it this far... thank you for being just as crazy as me about this and I will post the second part shortly after. lol ❤

[ganondoodle]

(new totk rewritten)

some a bit less structured ideas/current plans

im reusing the forgotten plateau as the tutorial area for the totk rewrite .... but its INSIDE; you get put there after the start by rauru and have to rebuild the bracelet thingy around his arm bc it got destroyed/damaged in the struggle with ganondorf and the bracelet thing is what has the abilities instead of just .. him? having it somehow? but also not for some reason? bc i find that more believable and lends itself well to gaining one after the other by putting its parts back together (it also feels a bit more controlled in a way, not everyone would have been allowed to have them back in his days)

consider it like .. raurus secret basement, as his castle was also put on the forgotten plateau (but not in the spot of the citadel of time bc wtf, and by now its gone like most else he built), with it being all underground and without a map you wouldnt even know where you are (also i find it to be in character; id imagine it was still called the cradle of hyrule even without the kingdom being there- and thats where he got the idea from to name his "new" kingdom 'hyrule'- not knowing that was its name before)

(as of now the addmittedly cool moment of first jumping down from the canon totk tutorial isnt included but that can still change also i personally think its pretty cool to have to climb all the way up to the sky before getting to explore it- plus the sky is mainly for shiekah stuff since they are so .. having to do with celestial stuff and the sonau in the rewrite are from the underground- though theres little actual sonau stuff left and the shiekah were there too bc its been a long ass time after all)

its not in great shape overall and some rooms have been discovered by the ancient shiekah in the past who studied the bracelet parts they found and use that research to make the stasis and bomb runes (at least), since im bringing back the bombs and the time reversal is what the stasis rune was based on- at the end of which you have to fight a miniboss monster sent after you by gan (bc he damn well knows where rauru would flee to) get your first heart container and are let go into the world

i know its way more strict and less free but it could be a big basement and honestly i dont think trying to copy the fantastic tutorial that is the forgotten plateau in botw is the best idea bc it will almost certainly feel like a worse copy, so id just go for something that doesnt chain itself to attempting to imitate it

(the final battle will also take place on the forgotten plateu, but after the switch and rauru starting to changing hyrule to what he wants it to be its lifted up and he brings his castle back on it- which will be a dungeon on its own)

(another more random thought, i do want the aesthetic of the sonau to be more like they were in botw, the ruins you can find in it are the ones from other sonau that survived on the surface without tech past rauru doing the whole thing with ganondorf and everthing but their numbers having been rather low and dwindling over time anyway- but perhaps rauru has a bit of a different idea, in part bc he is older and still attached to their older style that didnt evolve any further and ... it might just be his personal taste to some degree xD

which ALSO makes sense bc if there were other sonau still alive even after rauru did his thing, it would be logical that the remains of their ruins were in better shape (in the rewrite theres barely anything of sonau architecture left until the switch and rauru bringing it back)- they still lived there for quite some time after all- while the ones from rauru largely fell victim to time or to people intentionally getting rid of it bc surely not everyone was loyal to him)

(also an idea for the gerudo sage, there was one loyal to rauru who did do his bidding but in the temple thing she was supposed to wait for rauru was hunted down by 'koume and kotake' -which im not sure if i want them to be gans moms or his daughters bc i also like that idea, im still working with the totk canon thing of it being a new ganondorf btw bc it just works better for this scenario im working with atm- and they took her place guarding the stone hoping that gan would first return there -perhaps its like extra difficult and rather intentionally structured to be anti rauru in way, and less like gan having overtaken it- .. plus i like the idea of you being able to return there after the switch bc you could get a bit extra lore and story for gans background bc he surely wouldnt have wanted to find them there- he might not even have known they were there bc he never managed to break into this temple so the things that stop you in it when you first do it alongside rauru were all placed there by the two and not gan)

[thebaddexample]

FILM THEORY: DEATH RETURNS TO INANIMATE INSANITY!! BUT IT'S NOT TACO OR LIGHTBULB!!

Warning, spoilers and possibly cringey or bad writing, but it's 1am for me so eh

(First off, shout-out to my mom for coming up with this idea for me to make a theory on- You're the best :3)

(Second, thumbnail by me :])

(Thirdly, I might rewrite this during the day at some point because I'm really tired, but had to get this out before I slept bcs I'd forget to otherwise)

(Fourthly, I know that this isn't a completely original idea, and people have done it already, but I wanted an excuse to make a theory and there's evidence, so I thought "why not?" It'll make people upset with me if I'm right, and I get to pretend to be Film Theory for a bit. It's a win-win!)

(You are legally required to read this post as MatPat's voice /silly /j)

————————

With the horrifying tweet that Brian made last Saturday, there's a lot of people (including you, probably) worried about who will die in the finale, the harsh battle between whether we say "bye" to a bright light, or "so long" to our sour cream schemer. My answer? Neither!! Object show community, inanimate fandom... whatever we call ourselves! I'm about to present to you why our beloved (and somewhat recently hated) host is going to be the death of the season.

————————

First of all, the trailer (and @inanimateinsanityfan 's recent tumblr post "invitation") has somewhat implied that the focus of the movie, the A-Plot at least, will be around Cobs attempting to get to MePhone4 somehow, whether it be luring him up to Meeple Headquarters or trying to get down to him. We've seen from previous episodes that Cobs wants him dead, but it's hard to tell if he's changed his motive, since we haven't seen him since Episode 13 "Mine Your Own Business". However, he has been consistently sending his newer MePhones to eliminate MePhone4, as 5C clearly states in Episode 6. The newer models have features like tracking (much like MePad) and knife hands (NOT like MePad), which MePhone4 doesn't have, which should in theory have made him easier to kill.

Speaking of the abilities, the MeLife function is only ever used by MePhone4, or at least we only ever get to see him do it. Why? Well, I have an idea but that's a theory for another time. The point is; MePhone4 seems to be the only Meeple product with the ability to bring people to life, and has all of the contestants on there as far as we know. This means that, unless there's a creative solution to perma-kill one of the contestants, MePhone4 needs to die first for any perma-death to occur in the first place.

And hell, removing the regeneration ability as a whole would be a great way to cap off the season, to establish that there's no more retrying and that everything is now set in stone. And even if we do get that damn FOURTH season (bonus points to whoever gets the reference), it'll at least spice things up with having, say, MePad as a host instead, leaving the spot open for someone else to claim and have an interesting story arc of their own.

This shot already pulls up a parallel between MePhone4 and MePhone3GS, and though 3GS isn't really confirmed dead, they're definitely not gonna be alive any time soon. The parallels could imply that MePhone4 is destined to a fate similar to 3GS; no longer in service, probably broken, and maybe even killed of by Cobs himself.

In addition to this, all of the other MePhones we've seen have all died; MePhone4 technically died with 4S and 5 in the Season 1 finale "Journey Through Memory Lane", 5S and 5C were introduced and immediately killed in Season 2 Episode 6 "Let 'Er RIP", and MePhones 6 and 6+ were also immediately killed upon introduction in Season 2 Episode 8 "Theft and Battery". The MePhones all have something in common, and that is unavoidable and quick death, much like real iphones honestly.

Does this mean that MePhone4 will have to die as a result of MePhone's faulty creation? No, but there is a pre-established pattern with each of the MePhones that goes as a cycle, perpetuating Cobs' cruel style of doing things; he creates something, claims it's his favorite for a year, then makes something a little better and throws the pre-established bond away to die, and rinse and repeat.

But hey! That's just a theory!

An Object Theory!!

Uh- what's the opposite of "greetings and salutations"-?

"Goodbye and see-you-laters!!"

[endofradio]

FRAGMENTS OF FEAR — PROLOGUE

WARNINGS: not really any except for alcohol consumption

NOTES: sooo i’ve decided to rewrite the ao3 fic (fragments of fear) i was working on because i felt like the current draft i was writing could’ve been better and i’m a perfectionist sooo i am trying something different here! let’s see how writing this on tumblr goes. i’ll make a custom hashtag for this work on here that way the chapters are more easily accessible. in the future i’ll make a new work on ao3 and post the rewritten chapters there too. i’ll have to think about it.

while obviously this version is going to be a rewritten version therefore tweaked and all that, i’m still going with the idea of having everything set in the 80s. i already plan on writing a sequel to this shit and i’ll try to make the whole 80s au thing more obvious there. for now, i’ll try to make it work 💀 i just think an 80s abigail au would be interesting, at least for this fic.

SUMMARY: it’s been five years since frank’s last seen sylvie, yet somehow he can’t bring himself to stop thinking about her. how can some random woman he arrested affect him this much?

turns out, he’ll be crossing paths with her again.

WORD COUNT: 1,497 (i have a headache okay)

TAGS: @shawsfinalgirl @reclaimedbythesea @creelmalfoylaufeyson69 @atcarpenter @blackwolfstabs @witchy-weve-monbebe @simpingforclaudette

Tonight was just another night — another night of bad decisions for Adam. There were plenty of seedy dive bars to get wasted in, and of course, he had planned to take full advantage of that. Anything to drown out his thoughts, right?

Unfortunately for him, even the strongest liquors couldn’t keep his brain quiet. With every shot of whiskey he did, he was still thinking about her — that damn fucking brunette. Adam could still picture her big, brown eyes that always stared at him with that look of defiance that was simultaneously infuriating, yet… encouraging. He had loved visiting her jail cell just to tease her and get her all riled up. She never hesitated to snap back at him with that feisty, snarky attitude of hers. It pissed Adam off, dealing with someone with such a stubborn attitude who refused to back down to him. He was a man who thrived on power. He craved having a sense of control over somebody, and that girl refused to give it to him, that sense of control.

As much as it bothered Adam, it also… intrigued him. Plus, he thought she was even more attractive than she already was when she was pissed off. Right from the minute he met her, he knew he was going to be giving her a hard time.

A few months later, she was able to go home, and… strangely enough, Adam felt a tinge of disappointment. The fun was over.

Five years later, he wasn’t a detective anymore, now a criminal. Five years later, he was a deadbeat father who had abandoned his now ex-wife and his son, sitting all alone in his pathetic apartment and drinking. Five years later, he was driving himself insane over some woman he’d most likely never see again.

What was her name again, anyway? Sylvia? Yeah, Sylvia… or, as he liked to call her, “Sylvie.”

After a period of time, Adam managed to return to his apartment, but with an excruciating headache from clearly drinking too much. He felt lightheaded and had a tinge of nausea. It didn’t help that he hadn’t really eaten anything at all today. Alcohol and an empty stomach — a very poor combination, Adam.

He stumbled into his apartment drunkenly grumbling and swearing, and eventually managed to take a seat on the couch. His surroundings were blurry, even despite wearing his glasses.

Adam’s apartment was quiet and lonely. Once upon a time, he had a family. He had a wife, he had a son. Now, he was alone again, and he had brought it upon himself. He had decided that being a family man wasn’t the life he wanted. Another bad decision, Adam.

He could only hear the sound of the clock on the wall ticking, and it only served as another bitter reminder of the fact he was alone, leaving him to struggle with his thoughts by himself. Sylvie ended up in his mind again, and it was only making him increasingly agitated.

“Fuckin’ damn it…” Adam grumbled, massaging his temples in an attempt to try and relieve his headache. He didn’t even really give a fuck about Sylvie, so why was she stuck in his mind? He couldn’t recall the last time somebody had gotten under his skin like this, really under his skin.

There was a knock on the door, causing Adam to flinch. He was tempted to get up and answer it, see what the fuck it was about, but he couldn’t do it in the drunken state he was in. He simply just remained seated until the knocking ceased, and that was when he decided to get up and investigate. Maybe it was mail. That was usually the only reason why he’d get somebody knocking on his door.

Sighing, Adam forced himself to stand and staggered over to the door, desperately trying to keep his balance as he reached for the doorknob, his unsteady hand trembling just a little. Then, he turned it, carefully opening the door.

Sure enough, there was a plain white envelope waiting for him in his mailbox. “The fuck…?” He murmured, snatching the envelope. Quickly, he closed the door and headed back inside, placing the envelope on the kitchen counter. Sure enough, it was addressed to an “Adam Barrett” — him. When he saw the address information of the sender, his eyes slightly widened. Lambert?

Adam tore open the envelope, revealing a piece of paper inside. There was no “dear, [NAME]” or any other formalities, just a simple, to-the-point message. He tried to focus his gaze on the letters, trying his best to decipher what had been written.

“Adam — I’ve included a list of five addresses. I need you to deliver a message to each of these addresses by mail. Tell them that they’ve got a bit of a job offer for them — kidnap the daughter of an incredibly wealthy man, and they’ll all be rightfully rewarded. If they accept, I’ll call them individually. — Lambert.”

Adam narrowed his eyes. God, he hated being told what to do, but he knew damn well that Lambert wasn’t a man who was meant to be crossed. He also knew Lambert well enough to know that if he needed something, it was urgent.

“I’ll do this shit tomorrow…” He muttered, and he tossed the piece of paper aside. Right now, he didn’t feel like fucking doing anything. However, as frustrated as he was right now, he’d undeniably do anything with the incentive of money.

“Why didn’t anyone say we were kidnapping a kid?” A dark-haired woman muttered as the group headed inside the mansion in front of them. A taller, more muscular man was carrying the kid in question over his shoulder.

Adam turned around to shoot the woman a sharp, cold glare. “It doesn’t fuckin’ matter. It’s a kid. Fuckin’ deal with it.” He snapped, before turning back around. “Alright, get the fuck inside.”

Once everyone was inside and the doors were closed, they all looked around, gawking at the place. The guy who had been in charge of driving the group to this place seemed especially impressed, a smug smile tugging at his lips. “Damn!”

“Like it, huh?”

Everybody turned around, and sure enough… Lambert was standing there, a smirk on his face.

“Find a room and get the girl situated. Set up a lookout position. Meet back here in five. For those of you who don’t know, I go by Lambert. You all came highly recommended, and so far, those recommendations are paying off.”

Lambert’s eyes surveyed the group, and as they started to disperse, he narrowed his eyes. Something wasn’t… right. He could’ve sworn there was supposed to be another person amongst the group. If he had forgotten to mention her, he remembered now. He’d wait until the group had returned.

Once they did, Lambert continued to speak. He gave the group members new names: Joey, Sammy, Peter, Dean, and Rickles. As for Adam, he was now “Frank.”

“The only one to be allowed in the room with the girl is her,” Lambert gestured to Joey, “so the rest of you… make yourselves comfortable. Any questions?”

“Who’s the girl?” Joey questioned.

“You don’t need to know her name,” Lambert responded.

“I don’t care about her name. Whose kid is she?”

Frank rolled his eyes. “The fuck’s that matter to you?”

“A very wealthy man who’s about to be $50 million poorer,” Lambert answered matter-of-factly. His eyes then darted between Frank and Dean. “Frank, Dean. Come over here.”

Frank rolled his eyes as he followed Dean over to Lambert. “The fuck is it now?” He asked, his eyes narrowing in annoyance.

“We’re missing somebody.”

“What the hell do you mean by that?” Frank questioned, his tone one of confusion. “You gave me five addresses. I brought five people.”

“There’s one address I forgot to write down. 7871 Lantern Drive. You know where that is?”

At the mention of that address, Frank felt as though the wind had been knocked out of his chest. Wait a second… it couldn’t be the same person, right?

“Yes, I do.” He responded, attempting to keep his voice steady.

“Good. Track her down and bring her here. Don’t hesitate to use the tranquilizer if you have to. She’ll be referred to by ‘Ava’ while she’s here.”

Before Frank and Dean could say anything, Lambert turned around and began to head for the doors. He gave the group a final look before speaking one last time.

“There’s clean bedding and lit fires in the rooms. Kitchen’s fully stocked, so is the bar. See you in 24 hours, my lovely pack of rats.”

And just like that, Lambert was gone. Frank exchanged an annoyed glance with Dean.

“Jesus Christ…” He muttered, before leading Dean out the entrance.

“Where are you both going?” Sammy called out.

“Don’t fuckin’ worry about it.” Frank curtly responded. “We should be back in a few. All of you, behave.”

[mastermindbucky]

Congessional Approval - A Bucky Story

Prolog

Evie grew up in a politically active family but has always done things her own way. With a sharp mind and a quick wit, she’s earned a reputation for being brilliant, passionate, and a little bit stubborn. She’s not afraid to challenge people—even a charming WWII vet turned congressman. Especially him. She believes in real change but has seen enough corruption to know how hard it is to achieve. That’s why she’s surprised to find herself drawn to Bucky Barnes, a man who somehow still believes in doing the right thing—even when it costs him.

Congressman James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes is not your average politician. He’s a decorated war veteran with a complicated past—and a heart that still surprises him with how much it can feel. After years of running from who he was, he’s chosen to serve in a different way: as a representative fighting for real people.

Evie has come into his life in a way that was supposed to be simple - but things haven’t stayed simple for long. Their connection is growing, simmering just beneath the surface.

Bucky is professional, but around her, his walls soften. He’s careful, respectful, but his eyes sometimes say what he won’t. He won’t cross any lines, but maybe he’s waiting for her to. Or maybe he’s just hoping she’ll stay after hours, again.

There’s a subtle push-pull between the two of them. She respects him but isn’t intimidated. He’s careful with her, watching every word like it might mean too much. They dance around their feelings - one flirtatious remark here, one quiet moment there. Maybe they’ve shared coffee at midnight more than once. Maybe her jacket still hangs over the back of his office chair.

Capitol Hill – Wednesday, 8:58 PM It’s nearly 9:00 PM. The Capitol is quiet. A storm is rolling in, and the city feels wrapped in a kind of hush. Bucky stayed behind to review a veterans’ healthcare bill. Evie returns to his office with coffee and something unsaid sitting between them. Evie knocks softly and pushes the door open without waiting. “Thought you might still be here. Figured I’d bring reinforcements.” She holds up two cups of coffee, then places one gently on his desk. “Black. And just bitter enough to match your mood during committee hearings.”

Bucky chuckles, glancing up from the stack of papers. “You always know how to time an entrance, Marlowe.” He takes the coffee, their fingers brushing for a second too long.

“Thanks. Though I’m starting to think you’re just enabling my caffeine addiction.” She shrugs, but her smile lingers. “Maybe. Or maybe I’m just trying to keep you awake so you don’t rewrite the entire bill again out of moral crisis.” She sits down across from him, crossing one leg over the other. “Do you ever stop trying to fix the whole damn world?”

He looks at her a moment, serious now. “I can’t afford to stop.” Then his smile softens.

“But you make it feel less impossible.” He pauses. “You know that, right?” There’s a flicker in her eyes - surprise, then something warmer she quickly masks. “Well. If I’d known flattery was on the table, I’d have brought cookies.” Evie shifts in her chair, her voice quieter now. “You don’t have to do it alone, Bucky. You’ve got people now. You’ve got… me.”

His gaze drops to the papers, then lifts to meet hers again, steadier this time. “Yeah. I know.”

There’s a pause, where he thinks about what to say next. “And sometimes I think… that scares me more than doing it alone ever did.” She doesn’t smile this time. Just looks at him. “Good. That means it’s real.” It gets quiet between them. The storm outside rumbles softly. “So, are we working through this tonight… or are we pretending this is just about the bill again?” Evie asks without looking at him at first.

Bucky leans back in his chair, looking at her like he’s memorizing her face. “Depends.” His voice drops slightly. “If I said I didn’t want to pretend anymore, what would you say?” Evie rises slowly, walking to stand beside his desk, closing the distance now. “I’d say…” She leans down just a little, their faces almost level. “…that’s the first honest thing you’ve said all day.” And she’s still smiling as she walks back to her seat, just far enough to leave him wondering.

Same night, 10:41 PM

The rain has started - thick, steady, and loud against the tall windows. The building feels deserted, swallowed in shadows and soft lamp light. Bucky and Evie are still in his office. The world outside has slowed down, and something between them is beginning to speed up. Bucky glances out the window, rain trickling down the glass like a quiet warning. “Looks like you’re not going anywhere for a while.” He tries to sound casual, but there’s a thread of something else in his voice. “You ever think the city does this on purpose? Keeps us here, just long enough for things to change.” She stands by the bookshelf, running her fingers along the spines of old biographies and military memoirs. “I think the city doesn’t care about us at all, Barnes.” She turns, leaning against the shelf with her arms folded. “But I think you might.”

Bucky meets her eyes, something sharp and vulnerable flickering there. “I do.” He says it simply. No deflection. No smile. “I care. Maybe more than I should.” There’s a long silence between them. The rain fills it, but not enough to drown the way her breath catches. “Do you always wait until I’m trapped here by a monsoon to say things like that?” He laughs, but it’s soft - tired, almost shy. “Maybe I’m just a coward.” Bucky walks toward her slowly, his voice gentler now. “Or maybe I knew you’d bolt if I said it in the daylight.” Her expression softens, lips parting slightly like she wants to speak but no words come. Instead, she just watches him, every step. Every breath. “And what exactly are you saying now?”

Now he’s standing in front of her, closer than ever. The lamp behind his desk casts a warm glow around him, like he belongs in this quiet moment, like she does too. “I’m saying I don’t want this to be just after-hours and coffee anymore.” He lifts his flesh hand, not touching just hovering near her cheek. “But I’ll wait if I have to. I’ll wait until you’re ready. Or until the rain stops - whichever comes first.” Evie leans in just enough for his fingers to brush her skin. A soft, deliberate touch. She closes her eyes for a second and inhales slowly. When she opens them, her voice is barely a whisper. “Then I hope it rains all night.”

Outside, thunder rolls across the sky. But inside the room, it’s quiet - save for the sound of two hearts deciding whether to fall or stay still. The storm outside has steadied into a rhythm, like a song only the two of them can hear. The lights are low. There’s no one left in the building, and for once, neither of them is pretending. Bucky’s fingertips trace a line just below her cheekbone, reverent. He’s still not quite touching her fully - as if one wrong move will shatter the spell between them.

“I’ve been trying not to do this for weeks.” His voice is rough, low. “Every time you walked into this office with your smart mouth and that look in your eyes, I told myself not to cross a line.”

Evie searches his face, and for the first time in a long time, she lets herself stop holding back. “I noticed,” she says quietly, lips curving into a tired smile. “And I kept waiting for you to stop being so damn noble.”

That draws a soft laugh from him. He leans in - slowly, gently, like he’s giving her time to change her mind. “Noble’s overrated.” He pauses, his forehead brushing hers. “You’d tell me if this was a mistake… right?” Her breath catches as she lifts her face toward his, her voice just a breath against his lips. “If this is a mistake… it’s the only one I want to make tonight.”

And then – finally - he kisses her. Not rushed. Not hungry. Just honest. A hand resting at her jaw. Her fingers curling lightly into the fabric of his shirt. It’s not about passion, though that hums quietly beneath it—it’s about everything they haven’t said. Every missed moment. Every late night where they could have but didn’t. And now they are.

She pulls back just slightly; eyes still closed for a moment. When she opens them, there’s no shield in her expression anymore. “You’re going to ruin me, Barnes.” He smiles, forehead resting gently against hers. “I think you’ll survive me.” He brushes a thumb across her cheek, still holding her like he’s afraid she might disappear. “But just in case, I’ll make sure to ruin you gently.” Outside, the storm keeps its rhythm. But inside the quiet cocoon of his office, something has shifted.

And neither of them wants it to shift back.

The Morning After – Bucky’s Office, 7:12AM

The sun rises over D.C., casting golden light through the tall windows. The storm is gone, but its aftermath lingers - not in the weather, but in the space between them. Evie stayed late. Too late to walk home. She ended up dozing on the couch in Bucky’s office, jacket draped over her shoulders. He fell asleep in the armchair across from her. Evie stirs first, blinking into the soft light, disoriented for just a second. Then it all rushes back. The kiss. His voice. The way the world tilted slightly when he said her name like that.

She sits up slowly, brushing a hand through her hair. Her voice is barely audible in the quiet. “Well. That complicates things.”

Still half-asleep, he opens his eyes at the sound of her voice. For a moment, he doesn’t say anything - just watches her like she’s a memory he’s afraid might dissolve. “You always start your mornings with existential dread, or is that just because of me?” She looks at him over her shoulder, a soft smile tugging at her lips despite everything. “You kissed me, Barnes. I think I’ve earned a little existential dread.” There’s a short silence between them. “I’m not sure where we go from here.”

Bucky sits up, rubbing the back of his neck. He looks tired. Hopeful. Cautious. “We don’t have to figure it all out right now.” Then he says more softly: “But I’m not pretending it didn’t happen. I won’t do that.” Evie nods, folding her hands in her lap. “Neither will I. I just…” Her voice falters a bit - something rare for her. “I’ve spent years keeping things uncomplicated. Keeping me uncomplicated. You kind of ruin that strategy.” He stands up and starts slowly crossing the room. But this time, he doesn’t reach for her. He just stands close enough for her to feel him there. “I know what it’s like to keep your heart under lock and key. But I’m not here to break it, Evie. I just want to be honest. With you. With us.” There’s silence again. “We can go slow. We can pause. But I don’t want to pretend anymore. And I don’t think you do either.” She meets his eyes, really meets them, and for once she doesn’t deflect with sarcasm. “No. I don’t.” After another quiet moment she says: “But you better believe I’m still making fun of your tie in front of staff.”

He grins, relieved, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly. “Wouldn’t expect anything less.” The moment stretches between them—real, quiet, and full of possibility. Outside the office door, the Capitol is waking up. Phones will start ringing. Staffers will arrive. And both of them will step back into their roles. But something’s different now. And no matter how carefully they tread, they’ve already crossed the line.

Outside the Committee Room - Later That Afternoon

The hallway buzzes with staffers, aides, and interns carrying folders and coffee cups. Voices echo, shoes clack across marble floors, and policy talk fills the air. Bucky stands at the edge of the chaos, composed in his suit and tie - the picture of a responsible congressman. Then he sees her. Walking toward him, file in hand, eyes sharp and professional. She’s in her “don’t mess with me” mode - the one she wears like armor. But he notices the way her gaze flicks to his tie. The ghost of a smile threatens to appear. “You actually tied it right today. What happened, a national emergency?” He smirks, stepping closer - too close for “just coworkers,” not close enough to be obvious. “Thought I’d try to impress someone. Heard she’s got a thing for well-knotted neckwear and emotionally repressed men.” Her smile is quick, involuntary. She looks away like she’s trying not to enjoy this as much as she clearly does. “Well, she also likes not getting fired, so maybe we keep the banter toned down in front of the interns.” A young staffer rushes past. Bucky straightens slightly, slipping back into congressman mode — but not before letting his hand brush lightly against hers as he takes the file she offers. Bucky mumbles quietly, only for her. “You okay?” Evie is looking forward, not at him. “Do I look okay?”

“You look like you haven’t let yourself breathe all day,” he states. She finally meets his eyes, and something softens behind her mask. “Because I haven’t. Because every time I remember what happened last night, I either want to smile or run.” She glances around. “Can’t do either here. So.” He leans in slightly, voice low, intimate but controlled. “Then tonight. After hours. Same place.” She hesitates. Then nods. “No coffee this time. If we’re gonna keep pretending we’re just working late, at least let’s pretend we’re not exhausted.” He grins, but it’s gentler now. Full of things he’s not saying yet. “Deal. And for what it’s worth…” He pauses, looking at her just a second longer than he should. “…you smile better than you run.”

Before she can answer, someone calls his name. A door opens. Back to business. But under the surface, everything’s different. The tie is straighter. Her walls are thinner. And tonight… they both know exactly where they’ll be.

Later That Night – Bucky’s Office, 8:42 PM

The hallway is empty. Most of the building has gone dark. Bucky’s office is dimly lit by a desk lamp, casting amber shadows across the bookshelves and half-drunk mugs of coffee from earlier meetings. The door creaks open. She steps inside without knocking, her expression unreadable, but her eyes are softer than they were all day. “I told myself I wasn’t coming.” She pauses in her tracks. “Then I realized I didn’t actually mean it.” He looks up from his chair by the window — jacket off, sleeves rolled, tie loosened, but still completely himself. He stands, slowly. “I left the door unlocked. Just in case.” A beat. “I didn’t mean it when I said I could stop thinking about it either.” She gives a small huff of laughter, almost shy, as she closes the door behind her. “Well, we’re terrible at pretending. Guess we can cross that off our résumés.” She leans against the edge of his desk, arms crossed - her casual stance a thin disguise for how fast her heart is beating. “What are we doing, Barnes?”

Bucky walks toward her slowly, giving her time to retreat. She doesn’t. “I don’t know yet. But I know what we’re not doing.” He steps little closer now. “We’re not ignoring it. We’re not pretending it didn’t happen. And I’m not letting you carry the weight of this alone.” Evie looks up at him, her voice quieter now. “I don’t know how to do this. Not without messing everything up.” Her voice wavers - not with fear, but with honesty. “But I want to try.” He reaches out, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, fingertips lingering against her skin. “So do I.” Bucky steps between her knees where she’s perched on the edge of the desk, close now. “And we can go slow. We can figure it out together.” She tilts her head slightly, letting her forehead rest against his - not a kiss, not quite - just contact. Just closeness. “Promise me something?”

“Anything.” Bucky says softly. Evie replies almost as soft. “That we don’t let this get lost in the chaos. That we make room for it - even if it’s just here. At night. Behind closed doors.” His voice is barely above a whisper now. “I’ll always make room for you.” This time, the kiss comes slower. Less urgent. More real. Like something unfolding instead of sparking. His hands rest at her hips; hers slip up to his collarbone. It’s still careful, still new. But there’s no fear in it. Just warmth. Just them. Eventually, they pull apart - still close, still holding on.

Evie smiles faintly against his shoulder. “You’re going to make me believe in impossible things, Barnes.” Bucky’s lips brush her temple, gentle. “Good. You’ve been making me believe in them since the day you walked into my office.” Outside, the city sleeps. Inside, two people who never meant to fall are starting to wonder what happens if they stop trying not to.

The Next Morning – Legislative Briefing Room, 9:06 AM

The room is bright, buzzing with conversation. Staffers pour coffee, adjust clipboards, murmur over budgets and public statements. Chairs scrape across polished floors. Everyone’s focused. Everyone’s professional. Bucky and Evie are seated at the long table. Not next to each other — that would be too obvious. But close enough to feel it. That shift. That something. Evie flips through a packet of notes, eyes narrowed, pen tapping. From across the table, without looking directly at her: “Section 4’s numbers are off by about 3%. We’ll need to fix that before the press sees it.” He says it smoothly, like any congressman would to his aide. But his voice has that warmth now. The kind that wasn’t there before. The kind only she can hear. Evie’s eyes are still on the paper when she replies without missing a beat. “Already noted. And tell your press secretary if he leaks this early again, I’m revoking his office espresso privileges.” She doesn’t smile. Not outwardly. But her eyes flick up just once, meeting Bucky’s for a split second. It’s all there in the look. One of the Committee Members approaches Bucky. “Congressman Barnes, great comments on the veteran housing bill this morning. You had the room eating out of your hand.” He nods, polite, composed. “Thanks, Marissa. Still got work to do, but we’re getting there.” He casts a quick glance at Evie - tiny, fleeting. “She keeps me on track.” The Committee Member laughs, unaware. “Better hang on to her, then.” Evie doesn’t laugh. But under the table, her shoe nudges against Bucky’s -deliberately, gently.

Quietly, later, as people begin to leave and the chatter dies down. Evie passes Bucky a folder, businesslike. “You really need to stop looking at me like that during meetings.” He takes the folder, leaning in just a little. “Like what?”

“Like you want to kiss me across a congressional breakfast briefing.” She raises an eyebrow.

“Very scandalous behavior, Congressman.” His voice is soft, only for her. “Then meet me in the hallway in five. Just so I cannot kiss you there too.” She smirks, slipping her pen into her folder. “I swear, if we get caught, I’m telling everyone I was under duress.” She stands and heads for the door, but not before brushing her hand across his as she passes - fast, quiet, electric.

And just like that, they’re back in motion. Two professionals. A congressman and his aide. But underneath the suits and policies, a slow-burning story is being written. Carefully. Quietly. And not-so-secretly anymore.

Friday Evening – Evie’s Apartment, 9:18 PM

They agreed to meet off the clock. Away from Capitol Hill. Away from anyone watching. Evie’s apartment is small but warm - scattered books, half-drunk tea, and the glow of a record player humming soft jazz in the corner. Bucky stands by the window, jacket slung over the back of a chair, sipping something warm and whiskey-colored. Evie sits curled into the couch with her knees pulled up, arms wrapped around them. She’s not talking. Not yet.

After a long stretch of silence, Bucky finally speaks. “You’ve been quiet since the briefing this morning.” He turns to look at her. “Was it the thing I said? Or the thing I didn’t?”

She lets out a slow breath. Doesn’t look at him right away. “It was… everything. Everyone. The looks. The tension.” She’s quiet for a second. “I’m used to keeping my head down. Blending in. I never thought I’d have to learn how to feel something and hide it at the same time.”

Bucky walks over slowly, sitting at the far end of the couch. “You don’t have to hide it with me.”

She nods, biting her lip. Her voice is steadier than she feels. “But that’s the problem, isn’t it? I feel safest when I’m with you. But the second we step outside, I feel like I’m holding my breath.” She looks at him now, finally. “Like if I breathe wrong, someone’s going to notice. And I can’t afford to be the girl who fell for the boss. I worked too hard to just be me.”

His jaw tightens slightly, not in frustration - in helplessness. He leans forward, elbows on his knees, his voice low and raw. “I didn’t mean to make this harder for you.” He looks away shortly, before looking back at her. “I didn’t mean to feel this way about you either. But I do.”

Evie unfolds slowly, drawing her knees down, inching closer without realizing it. “I know. I do too.” A pause. “But what if this… costs me something? My credibility. My independence. My place in that room.”

Bucky looks up, meeting her eyes. “Then we protect it. Not by pretending it doesn’t exist — but by deciding what it means to us before anyone else does. I won’t let anyone reduce you to a footnote in my story. You’re the headline of your own.”

Her eyes well slightly - not with weakness, but with all the pressure she’s been carrying alone.

“You say things like that, and I forget how scared I am.” She reaches for his hand now, their fingers intertwining gently. “But I still am.”

Bucky squeezes her hand - not to reassure, but to anchor. “Then be scared. I’ll still be here. With you. Quietly. Proudly. However you need me.” He leans in, resting his forehead against hers. “We don’t have to have answers tonight. Just honesty.”

Evie nods, her voice barely a whisper. “Okay. Just honesty.”

They sit there in the quiet, no pressure to be anything other than exactly what they are: two people trying not to lose themselves — or each other — in a world that asks them to pick one.

A Week Later – Bucky’s Townhouse, 10:41 PM

The rain is back. Soft and steady. They’ve just finished dinner in Bucky’s narrow kitchen - nothing fancy, just takeout on chipped plates, laughter over campaign bloopers, soft music playing on an old speaker.

Now they’re curled up on his couch. He’s sitting back, legs stretched out. She’s next to him, a blanket over both of them, her hand tucked under his on his chest. It’s peaceful. Still. Until it isn’t.

Out of nowhere, Bucky’s voice breaks the calm. “I used to sleep on the floor for the first six months I moved here.” His tone isn’t casual, but it’s not performative either. Just honest. “Couldn’t handle a bed. Felt too safe. Too soft. My body didn’t trust it.”

Evie stills, her head resting against his shoulder. She doesn’t ask questions. Just waits. “You don’t have to tell me why if you don’t want to.”

He’s quiet for a long moment. “When I first got out of HYDRA, I didn’t know how to live in quiet spaces. I didn’t know how to exist without scanning the room. Without listening for things, I didn’t want to hear.” Bucky swallows hard. “The silence wasn’t peaceful. It was loud. And I didn’t know how to tell anyone that.”

Evie shifts, facing him more fully now, one hand coming up to rest against his arm. “You don’t have to tell anyone. Not unless you choose to. But I’m really glad you chose me.”

He lets out a slow breath - something unburdening with it. He’s not tearing up, but there’s a weight in his eyes that hasn’t surfaced before. “I don’t talk about it because people already assume I’ve got it together. That I’ve survived the worst and turned it into some campaign slogan.” He shakes his head slightly. “But the truth is, some nights I still wake up not knowing where I am. I still brace for something that’s not there. And I hate that it makes me feel broken, even now.”

Her voice is low, steady. “You’re not broken, Bucky. You’re just healing. And healing isn’t linear. It’s not graceful. Sometimes it’s a loop you have to keep walking until it gets softer.” After a pause she speaks more gently. “And I’m not afraid of the mess.”

Bucky turns his head to look at her - really look. “I think that’s why you scare me more than anything else.” A quiet smile tugs at the edge of his mouth. “Because when you look at me, I don’t feel like a politician. Or a broken soldier. I just feel like a man who still has things to learn.” Bucky pauses. “And for the first time in a long time I want to learn with someone.”

Evie leans in and presses a kiss to his shoulder, slow and soft. “Then I’ll be here. For the questions, not just the answers.”

They sit in silence again - but this time, it’s not loud. It’s calm. Full. Honest. A storm outside, and warmth within. A turning point has passed. They didn’t name it. They didn’t need to. But now they both know: this is not a fling. This is not just tension. This is real. And they’re in it — for better, for worse, for everything in between.

Capitol Hill - Tuesday, Congressional Dining Room, 1:26 PM

The room is busy with low-level buzz - forks clinking, staffers typing on laptops, senators half-listening to each other. Bucky sits at a table with Congressman Aaron Langford – someone who had become a friend in congress. Langford is easygoing, observant, and far too good at reading people. Evie isn’t there - she’s across the hall in a budget meeting, but her absence feels unusually present to Bucky.

Langford is poking at his salad, eyes flicking up. “You’ve been smiling more lately. Don’t try to deny it.” A sly grin spreads on his face. “You’re in love with someone. Or you finally started using real coffee instead of that battery acid your press team drinks.”

Bucky laughs, dry but caught off guard. “Wow. Bold assumptions for a man eating kale and sadness.”

Langford leans in a little, lowering his voice. “It’s her, isn’t it? Your aide - Evie. I’ve seen the way you look at her.” Then he adds, not unkindly: “You two think you’re being subtle. You’re not.”

Bucky stiffens slightly, not angry - just caught. He shifts his fork aimlessly on the plate. This is the moment. A line he hasn’t crossed publicly. A truth he hasn’t had to say out loud - until now.

He answers after a beat, his voice low and even. “She’s more than an aide.”

Bucky pauses to lay out his words carefully. “She’s the person who calls me on my crap. Who doesn’t care about the office or the optics. Who stays late because she believes in the work — not in me, not in the myth. Just in what’s right.” He looks up, meeting Langford’s eyes. “And yeah. It’s her.”

Langford doesn’t laugh. Doesn’t tease. Just nods, slow and thoughtful. “You look steadier when she’s around. You ever notice that?”

Bucky huffs quietly. “Every day.”

“Well… then don’t screw it up. Keep it respectful. Keep it honest. And when the vultures start circling - and they will - don’t flinch.” Langford leans back. “The world will try to make it small. Don’t let it be.”

Bucky looks down at his hands for a moment, then folds them together — deliberate. Grounded. Like something has clicked into place. “I’m not ashamed of loving her. And I won’t pretend I don’t.”

Just then, Evie walks past the dining room window — distracted, flipping through a folder. She doesn’t see them. But Bucky sees her. And he smiles. Not carefully. Not privately. Just openly.

Capitol Hallway – Late Afternoon, Thursday, 4:03 PM

The building is buzzing. Committee meetings are wrapping. Journalists linger near elevators. Political aides move like chess pieces. Evie rounds a corner with a stack of briefing folders in her arms when she’s stopped - deliberately - by Congresswoman Elaine Cartwright, senior, sharp-tongued, and never one to waste time on kindness.

Cartwright looks at Evie with a too-sweet smile. “Evie. I’ve been meaning to speak with you.” She glances at the folder, then at Evie’s face. “Let’s not pretend we don’t both know what this is about.”

Evie straightens, her tone neutral but firm. “I’m not sure I follow, Congresswoman.”

“Oh, I think you do.” Cartwright steps in closer, voice dropping just enough to stay below the level of gossiping ears. “You’ve been seen. The late-night coffees. The hallway glances. The fact that Barnes listens to you more than he does his chief of staff.” She leans in. “Do you think no one’s noticed that you’re sleeping with your boss?”

There’s a flicker of hurt on Evie’s face, quickly buried beneath something steelier. Her voice stays even. “I’m not going to dignify that assumption with an answer.”

“Don’t bother. You already did.” Cartwright is quiet for a second. “You’re smart, Evie. You’ve built a career from nothing. But don’t let a man - even a good one - turn you into a punchline. Because when the media catches up, they won’t go after him. They’ll come for you.” Evie’s pulse is racing. She feels the heat of it under her skin - fear, anger, the pressure of being cornered with her dignity on the line. And then she does something she didn’t think she’d be brave enough to do: She breathes. And she chooses not to flinch. Evie replies Quiet. Clear. “I know how this town works. I know what people whisper behind closed doors when a woman dares to be more than useful.” Her gaze locks with Cartwright’s - not combative, but unshakably steady. “But I also know this: I didn’t get here by accident. I earned every hour. Every sleepless night. Every damn meeting I carried while men took the credit.” She leans in now, mirroring Cartwright’s posture. “And if I love someone who respects me, challenges me, and never once asks me to be smaller - then I won’t apologize for that.”

Cartwright’s arching a brow. Her expression unreadable. “You’re willing to burn for him?”

Evie replies without hesitation. “I’m willing to burn for me. But you’d be surprised how good we are at walking through fire together.”

Cartwright studies her for a long second. Then gives a short, dry chuckle. “Well. Maybe there’s hope for Barnes after all.”

And with that, she walks away - leaving Evie standing in the hallway, heart pounding, spine straight. Not broken. Not ashamed. Empowered.

Early Morning – Bucky’s Office, Friday, 7:42 AM

The building is quiet in that eerie, pre-chaos way. Fog presses against the windows. Aides are still trickling in with half-finished coffees and rumpled folders. But Bucky is already there - pacing behind his desk, phone in hand, jaw tight.

On his screen: a breaking news alert.

Congressman Barnes Accused of Inappropriate Relationship with Staffer “Multiple anonymous sources report ‘unprofessional closeness’ between the congressman and his longtime aide, Evie Marlowe…”

The picture is grainy. But unmistakable. A stolen shot - a late night, a touch that lingered too long. Maybe the hallway. Maybe the look on his face.

The door opens. Evie walks in, holding the same headline in print. Her eyes meet his — not panicked. But not calm, either.

Bucky’s voice is low, controlled as he speaks. “It’s out.”

“I know.” Evie says quietly.

“They’re calling it an ‘affair.’ Like I’m some cliché with a twenty-something secretary.” He scoffs.

Evie has to back a bitter laugh. “Guess I should’ve worn shorter skirts to really complete the fantasy.”

A beat passes. The air between them is thick - not with shame, but with everything they didn’t want the world to twist. And now it’s happening.

Bucky’s expression softens. He steps closer. “I’ll go to the Ethics Committee before anyone else does. I’ll get ahead of it. I won’t let them drag your name through—”

Evie interrupts him, gently but firmly: “Stop.” She looks up at him, chin high, even as her voice trembles a little. “I knew what could happen when I let myself care about you. I knew what this world would say. But I’d rather be honest and under fire than safe and invisible.”

His voice breaks a little at the edges now. “I hate that it’s you they’ll try to destroy.”

Evie reaches up, brushing his arm - grounding them both. “Then don’t let them. We can’t control the headlines, but we can control what we are. How we talk about it. How we stand in it.”

Just then, the door bursts open - the press secretary, flustered and breathless. “We’ve got five reporters downstairs already. Phones are blowing up. They want a comment. A statement. Some are saying resignation. Some are saying scandal.”

Bucky looks at Evie. Not at the aide. “I’m not resigning.”

She meets his gaze, solid. “And I’m not hiding.”

The Press Secretary hesitates “What do you want me to tell them?”

Bucky turns to the him, firm and clear. “Tell them I’m in a relationship with someone I trust more than most people in that chamber. Someone who’s kept my feet on the ground when I forgot how. And that I won’t apologize for falling in love with someone who makes me better.”

Evie’s eyes flicker. There’s no surprise. Just pride. “And tell them they’re going to have to get used to a woman being part of the story - not a scandal in it.”

The press secretary nods slowly. And leaves. The door closes. They’re alone again. Not untouched. But unbroken. The world knows now. But so do they.

Bucky’s Townhouse, Same Night, 10:46 PM

The day is over. The news cycle still spins, but the worst of it has hit. They’ve been called everything‚ irresponsible, reckless, romantic, brave. Opinion pieces are flying. But the world feels far away here. Bucky is sitting on the edge of his couch in a dark sweatshirt, scrolling through his phone without really reading anything. The TV is muted. There’s a takeout bag on the table, untouched. The door clicks open softly. Evie steps in, wrapped in her coat, hair damp from the drizzle. She doesn’t speak right away.

He looks up. His face softens the second he sees her. “I didn‘t think you‘d come.“

Evie takes off her coat slowly, placing it on the hook. “I almost didn’t. Thought maybe it’d be easier to just wait until things died down.” She pauses. “But then I remembered I don’t do easy. I do real.” She walks over, sits next to him without touching yet. They sit in silence, the kind that isn’t heavy, just full. The kind that carries everything that’s been said and everything that hasn’t. After a moment of silence, Evie says softly: “I keep wondering if I should be more scared than I am.”

Bucky turns to her “You’ve always been braver than you give yourself credit for.”

Evie looks to the ground. “I had this plan, you know? About whom I wanted to be. I thought if I was smart enough, driven enough, clean enough no one could touch me.” Her voice tightens just slightly. “And then I fell for you. And suddenly I had something to lose.”

Bucky takes her hand now, gently. “You don’t lose yourself by loving someone, Evie. Not if it’s real. Not if it’s the right person.”

She finally looks at him, something raw behind her eyes. “I just need to know if this gets worse, if I get pulled apart in the press, if I stop being taken seriously, will you still see me? Not just someone you feel responsible for, or guilty about. Just... me.”

Bucky replies without hesitation. “I don’t love you because you’re strong, or smart, or graceful under pressure. I love you because when the mask slips, when you're messy, scared, or furious, you’re still the most honest person I’ve ever met.” He pauses to take in her face.

“Whatever comes next, I’m not walking away. Not from you.”

Evie leans in now, slow and quiet, resting her head on his shoulder. They stay like that, tangled up in the silence, until it’s not silence anymore. It’s safety. She murmurs against his shirt. “I don’t know how we’re supposed to live in the open now.”

Bucky rests his chin gently on her head. “One day at a time. One breath. One headline. One look from you that reminds me why this is worth every bruise.”

Outside, the storm has passed. The windows rattle a little in the wind, but inside, they are still. They’re no longer a secret. They’re a choice.

Bucky’s Bedroom, Saturday Night, 11:12 PM

The city outside is soft with rain again. No sirens tonight. Just the hum of water on windows and the quiet tick of an old wall clock. The room is dim, one lamp on, casting a warm pool of light. Bucky lies in bed on his back, shirtless but covered, reading a hardcover book. Evie is curled up next to him, one leg hooked over his, her head on his chest. She’s not reading. Just listening to his heartbeat. Neither of them has spoken in several minutes. Not because there’s nothing to say. But because they don’t need to fill the silence. His hand strokes slow lines along her arm. Idle. Thoughtless.

Evie softly breaks the silence not lifting her head. “What are you reading?”

Bucky tilts the book a little. “Something dry and philosophical so I wouldn’t get too invested.” He smiles wryly and lets out a hum. “It didn’t work.”

Evie laughs. “Bet you still dog-ear the pages.”

“Might’ve underlined a quote or two.” He chuckles and pulls her closer. The quiet stretches again, not awkward, just full of unspoken things. Her fingers trace absent patterns against his ribs. Evie murmurs against his skin. “This. whatever it is right now. Feels like safety.”

His voice is low, almost reverent. “That’s all I ever wanted it to feel like.”

She shifts slightly to look up at him. “I keep waiting for the moment it all breaks. When this starts to feel like a mistake.”

Bucky looks down at her, his eyes gentle. “It’s not a mistake, Evie. Not even a little.”

“But it’s complicated.” Evie adds hesitantly.

“All good things are.” He says calmy, trying to reassure her.

There’s silence before she leans up slowly, kissing his chest, right over his heart. No urgency. No need for more. Just contact. Just truth. She settles back down, eyes closed, lips brushing the edge of his skin. “Tell me something you’ve never told anyone.”

Bucky’s quiet for a moment. Then, softly he says, almost to himself: “When I was at the war, I used to imagine a life after. Not anything big, not medals or speeches. Just waking up next to someone who made me feel like I wasn’t still at war.” He exhales through his nose. “I never thought I’d get that.”

Evie’s voice is barely a whisper. “You do now.”

They don’t say “I love you” tonight. They don’t need to. Because the way her hand holds his. The way his breath syncs with hers. The way neither of them moves for a long, long time. That says it all.

Sunday Morning - Bucky’s Bedroom, 7:33AM The world outside is still gray blue, soaked in early light. Rain has stopped. The only sound is the distant hush of passing cars and the soft rustle of sheets. Evie wakes slowly, blinking at the light. She’s curled into the space between Bucky’s shoulder and chest, warm, safe, his arm heavy around her waist. He’s still asleep, mouth slightly parted, lashes resting against skin that looks softer in daylight. She stays there a moment longer, not wanting to disturb him. Just watching. He looks different like this. Less like a headline. Less like a congressman. More like the man who leaves his shoes by the door and drinks his coffee too hot. The one who tells her terrible history jokes just to see her roll her eyes. The one who held her hand the night the world turned cruel. The one who chose her.

Evie whispers, barely audible. “I’m still here.” She slowly shifts onto her side to face him, propping her head on one hand. His eyes flutter open just a bit, still heavy with sleep.

“Mmph. What time is it?” he says, still groggy from sleep.

Evie smiles softly. “Too early. Go back to sleep.”

Bucky reaches out, fingers finding hers under the covers. “Not if you’re awake.”

They lie there for a long moment, just watching each other.

“Do you think it’ll always be like this? The noise outside? The pressure?” Evie asks after a moment of silence.

Bucky replies quiet, but certain. “Maybe. But this…” He squeezes her hand gently. “…this stays ours. No matter how loud it gets out there.”

Evie hums, before speaking again. “And if they ask us to prove it again? If it costs us more?”

Bucky looks at her, his eyes clear now. “Then we remind them that love isn’t a scandal. It’s survival.”

She leans in, kisses the corner of his mouth. He smiles into it, slow and content. They don’t get up yet. There are meetings later. Calls to return. Reputations to defend. But for now? It’s just two people in the early light, wrapped in warmth and truth. No scripts. No defenses. Just them. Still here.

Capitol Hill – Late Spring, A Year Later

The cherry blossoms have long given way to sun-warmed trees and buzzing sidewalks. The dome of the Capitol shines in the golden hour light, as aides rush to wrap the day before the next bill hits the floor. Inside, the atmosphere is quieter now. Less frantic. A steady rhythm. Congressman Bucky Barnes walks out of a committee meeting, jacket slung over one shoulder, sleeves rolled, tie loosened just enough to make a statement: he still means business - but on his terms now. He offers nods to a few colleagues, shakes one hand, ducks a reporter’s last-minute question with a charming grin and a line he’s clearly used before: “If I told you now, you wouldn’t read the morning edition. “He rounds the corner and sees her. Evie. Waiting just outside his office, tablet in hand, reading over notes. Hair pulled back, tailored blazer, expression focused. But when she looks up and sees him — her face softens. And that’s everything.

Bucky looks at her with a smile. “Have I mentioned lately that you’re the smartest person in any room we walk into?”

Evie replies without missing a beat. “You said that this morning. Right after I told you to double-check your vote sheet.”

He laughs softly. “And I meant it. Both times.”

They fall into step together, not touching - not here - but aligned in every way that matters. They walk past junior staffers, a few familiar lobbyists, even a photographer who pretends not to be watching. The attention hasn’t vanished. But it no longer owns them. Inside his office, the door closes behind them. That’s when he pulls her close, pressing a kiss to her temple, her forehead, finally her lips.

She whispers against his mouth. “We’ve got that education roundtable at six.”

“Plenty of time.” His hands wander up and down her back, while he leans in for another kiss.

Evie smiles into the kiss before breaking it. “I remember when you used to panic if I wasn’t fifteen minutes early.”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “You changed me.”

“You evolved.” She adds, running her fingers along his collar.

Bucky looks at her like she’s still the best decision he has ever made. “I’ve been thinking… after the midterms. Win or lose - I don’t want to go back to living just for the next fight.”

Evie tilts her head, searching his face. “What do you want?”

His expression softens as he says almost above whisper: “A future. Not just a platform. Not just headlines. I want a home with you. The kind that’s ours even if the world never stops spinning.”

Evie is quiet, her eyes shining a little. She lets out a huff before answering. “I already come home to you. But yeah. Maybe a porch wouldn’t hurt.”

He laughs, pulls her close again. Outside, the sky turns gold. The cameras flash somewhere distant. Headlines still swirl. But inside, in the quiet of that closed door, they’ve built something no scandal could break. Not perfect. Not always easy. But real. Rooted. Ongoing. And ahead of them - a future full of rooms where they’ll walk in together. Where she’ll still be the one with the sharpest mind. Where he’ll still be the one who listens. And where, finally, love and legacy don’t have to live in separate places.

Epilogue: Newspaper Feature

The Washington Observer 

"More Than a Headline: The Quiet Legacy of Congressman Bucky Barnes and the Woman Beside Him" 

By Lena Rowe, Senior Political Correspondent

There are politicians who thunder through Washington on waves of charisma, headlines, or scandal. Then there are the ones who last, who anchor themselves to principle, to people, and, occasionally, to something more personal than politics.

Congressman Bucky Barnes never asked to be famous. He became that anyway, first for the life he led before Capitol Hill, then for the one he rebuilt inside it. But if you ask the people closest to him, and I did, they’ll tell you his real turning point wasn’t the veteran’s bill he passed, or the ethics storm he weathered. It was the moment he fell in love with his chief of staff.

Yes, that story. You remember it. Everyone did. A rumored relationship turned confirmed romance turned public firestorm. “Fraternization, Power dynamics, modern scandal.” The headlines wrote themselves.

But what most forgot, once the noise died down, was what happened next.

They didn’t resign. 

They didn’t retreat. 

They simply... stayed.

And in the years since, something rare happened on the Hill: the narrative quieted, and the work continued. Together.

These days, Barnes is in his third term. His approval ratings are the highest in the state. His record? Substantial. Focused. Bipartisan where it counts. But if you ask him what he’s proudest of, he won’t list a single policy win.

He’ll glance, instinctively, at Evie Marlowe.

No longer his chief of staff, though she still runs his calendar with deadly efficiency. No longer someone hidden behind press statements or speculation. These days, she’s in the room because she’s earned it, and stayed in it because she chose to.

They walk the halls of Congress side by side. They attend events together, not as a symbol, but simply because they like each other’s company. They make each other better. Their colleagues say it. Their staff say it. Even their opponents say it, though never on the record.

Over lunch, I asked Barnes if he regretted how public it all became.

He smiled. A small one, like it was an old wound that had finally closed.

“I had to choose between protecting my image and protecting what we have” he said, “I’d lose a thousand news cycles again. She's not my distraction. She’s my clarity.”

Evie, sitting beside him, didn’t say much. But when he reached for her hand under the table, she didn’t hesitate. She just held it. Firm and quiet and unshaken.

Later, as I walked out of the Rayburn building, I passed two young staffers whispering in awe that he really does walk her to the car every night. One grinned like it was a fairy tale. The other shrugged: “Guess not all the good ones get chased out.”

Maybe that's the lesson, then.

Not that love in politics is scandalous, but that staying in love, when everything around you tells you not to, is the more radical act.

Editor’s Note: 

Congressman Barnes and Ms. Morgan are currently working on a joint initiative to mentor young public servants in ethical leadership and sustainable careers. When asked what they hope to pass on, Marlowe replied simply:

“That doing the right thing and following your heart don’t have to live in opposite corners. If you do it right, they walk side by side.”

[uptoolateart]

S5 Finale Re-Write Fic

I wrote what I thought was a one-shot after Representation, called ‘Who We Really Are’. Then the S5 finale crushed my very soul, so I’ve rewritten it and tacked it onto the supposed one-shot. It’s now 3 chapters of catharsis. I’ve taken the script and adapted it so that Adrien / Cat is PART OF THAT FINAL BATTLE LIKE HE SHOULD HAVE BEEN. There’s an identity reveal. There’s confrontation. There’s all the stuff I was hoping for.

PREVIEW:

As Monarch got to his feet, she charged at him. ‘Reconfigure this!’ She whacked him so hard that he flew through the air, crashing through yet another wall, and another, into his office.

Cat stared at her in awe, his breath catching for a new reason.

Yet his father had never known when to give up. Already, Cat could hear him shouting, ‘Venom!’ He charged back at them, portalling and appearing behind her – prepared to hurt her.

Prepared to hurt her….

Cat hit him this time, relishing the satisfaction of catching him with his stick, whacking him into another wall.

Ladybug gave Cat an appreciative look, then hurled her yo-yo, wrapping Monarch in magic string. ‘Life is like fashion. All we have is the illusion of choice – as you put it so well, Mr Agreste.’

Cat blinked at her.

Monarch gasped in shock. ‘How did you know?’

‘Luck! I hear it’s one of my superpowers.’ She started yanking him in with her yo-yo.

Somehow, now that he’d been named, it made all of this so much more real. As she pulled Monarch closer, Cat’s head throbbed harder, hit worse than ever with his nightmare. Because whether he was Adrien or Cat, his nightmare was the same man.

A man who had locked him up every way he could.

Who’d taken advantage of the unsuspecting public, who’d used them to fight his battles while he hid perhaps within this very mansion.

Within my home.

Who’d never had time for him – no doubt because he was absorbed in his double life. Too absorbed in being Monarch than being his father.

Who lied. Who said he wanted nothing more than to fix things, to make up for all the time they’d lost together, while privately planning his next attack.

Who’d hurt Nathalie.

Who may have hurt his mother.

Who was trying to hurt Marinette.

Who was hurting him.

‘No, no, no, no, no!’ He dropped to the floor, hunched over and groaning in pain, eyes clenched shut and teeth gritted. Because he was angry. The world was growing red again it was too easy to imagine that black energy pooling in his hand, seeking a way out….

‘Cat!’ Ladybug cried.

That distraction was all Monarch needed. He unwound himself from the string and laughed. ‘Too bad you’re not invulnerable to your nightmares. And too bad I’m invulnerable to your luck!’

Cat fought down the growl in his throat, his chest heaving and the rage boiling in his veins. He turned his glare on his father. ‘My true nightmare…is you! And it stops right here! Cataclysm!’

He slammed his hand down on the floor and the floor broke apart. In a plume of dust, his father fell right through – and so did Ladybug.

She screamed, and Cat hurled himself at her, grabbing her hand, just in time to be dragged down under the floor with her, the tiles raining down on them.

Keep reading at Ao3

Tags:

Identity Reveal

S5 Finale Rewrite

Fix-It

Episode Fix-it

Conformation and Re-Creation IF CAT NOIR HAD BEEN THERE

lots of kisses

Adrien confronts his father

Adrien goes into that basement like HE SHOULD HAVE DONE IN THE EPISODE

I demonstrate that all of this could have easily been done without adding to the runtime

And without changing the fundamental script

And without changing the ultimate ending

And I fit the whole damn love square in there

Catharsis

Sentimonster Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir

[happy-trenchcoated-impala]

(This is an ORIGINAL CHARACTER, I just wanted to see how well this would go, I think it came out pretty well)

Jade sighed as she watched her brother and all his lame friends start towards her again for the sixteenth time this week, like for real do these guys have anything better to do? Hobbies, boyfriends, girlfriends, knitting, anything else but being a pain in the butt to her?

She shook her head as she was thankful that she managed to deliver that note to Naoto as well, she had been getting frustrated with her lack of progress not for lack of trying, but for the fact that every single time she tried to shoot her shot with Naoto one of the gang would suddenly appear out of nowhere and give her a look that she could feel down in her soul and she did not have a single clue as to what she did, she racked her brain running thru the past few weeks and even months but she still came up blank, she swore feeling trapped and panicky.

"I swear I haven't done anything to them." she thought to herself in desperation, then her mind flashed back to that lecture they had all given her, the look of absolute disappointment on each and every face that looked at her as they all lectured her about her ‘bullying’ of Naoto Tachibana, Hina's little brother and Hina being Takemitchi's girlfriend, of course the rest of them didn't like that Jade was supposedly bullying him.

All Jade had done to the cute nerd was call him names, granted they were names of fictional detectives, and occasionally point out when he missed a detail in something, she wasn't quite sure how that counted as bullying him.

Jade squirmed in her soul, it's not like she wanted to bully him, but he was so cute whenever he got heated that she couldn't help the snark that always came out when she spoke with him even if she also couldn't help the butterflies that erupted in her tummy or the blush that threatened to appear on her face each time she was near him or when he looked at her or talked to her, she was just not gonna admit that to ToMan, she sighed, she wouldn't hear the end of it if she admitted that she only picked on him because she had a crush.

She cringed and speaking of her brother's stupid lame friends. There were five of them just hanging out, and she just happened to run into them, she cursed her luck sometimes, but if these five were here, where were the others?

Jade soon got her answer in the form of another six body's coming from behind her, she cringed hoping she wouldn't be noticed, “Man, where were you guys?” She heard one of Takemitchi's friends ask one of the guys who passed Jade, a small blonde with piercing gray eyes who looked more childlike then Jade did, “The library” the blonde, Mikey, Jade's brain supplied, replied easily “had to grab something."

Another one of the guys, long black hair with an almost arrogance to him, Baji, grinned his canines gleaming in his smile, “Was almost too easy, all Mitchi there had to do was distract him, and we snagged this” Baji said in triumph, pulling a single lavender colored envelope out of his pocket.

Jade felt her stomach drop, she knew that envelope, spent hours agonizing on how to accurately express her emotions for the adorably nerdy little dork who had captured her heart, now she had to somehow either grab that envelope, and maybe burn it, but she would have to rewrite the whole damn thing.

She made a face when Takemitchi glanced up and saw her there, “There she is,” Takemitchi said in a cold tone, a dark look in his eyes, “maybe we should all have another talk with her, maybe read what's in this as well, before deciding what we do.” making Jade gulp, quickening her step as she heard the rest of them start to move.

Jade broke out into a sprint running faster then she had ever run before, was she gonna make it?, probably not, but she was going to try. She sprinted her feet going as fast as she could dare to go, she could hear the rest of them behind her trying to catch her, she prayed that she could get away from them, she couldn't handle all of them reading the contents of that letter out loud, especially with her present.

She grimaced again, a look of unease crossing her face as she crossed the street and heard the rest of the feet that were behind her stop, she glanced behind herself quickly and saw that they were all stopped at a light but surely she could make it right?

Right?

Wrong.

Jade kept running only to suddenly slam into something solid, and heard a voice that made her blood run cold, “Gotcha Tiny!” Boomed from above her head, she squirmed, trying to twist away to run again, only to feel both arms constrict around her as she felt her feet leave the ground, at only five foot two inches, she was small and it's exactly how she found the nickname of Tiny amongst the gang.

Jade let out a little shriek of surprise, “Put me down!, Put me down! Put me down!” Jade whined, sounding more like a spoiled brat then a semi-mature girl of thirteen. Draken, who was holding her, scoffed “Nah, I think I need to bring you back to the others for a little chat about bullying again” before going to hold her over his shoulder like a disobedient sack of flour.

“Draken, if I tell you the truth of what is in that envelope, will you put me down?” Jade asked, trying for a negotiation, anything before the rest of them caught up to her.

Draken's eyebrows rose quickly, “Start talking.” was all the taller man said, Jade sighed in irritation. “Fine” Jade felt herself starting to blush, “it was a um a con-confession note.” Draken looked at her and smirked at her stutter. “Hell, here all of us are ready to lecture you and instead it looks like we need to have a different talk.” Jade tried to run again “No no no no no!” Jade squealed in mortification.

Jade felt her face burn anew as the taller man threw her over his shoulder while saying “Wonder what Mitchi will have to say about this?

Hmmm?

Wittle bitty baby Jade with her first crush, all grown up and in love, It's too cute” the taller man cooed, smirking, sounding almost like his girlfriend, Emma, his voice usually deep and gravelly, pitched higher as he teased the young teenager.

“This is why I didn't want to say anything,” Jade whined, “this is so embarrassing.”

“Yes, yes, sometimes life isn't fair.” Draken drawled rolling his eyes,”but none of us will be expecting to hear this, I mean, we probably should have seen this coming, you don't treat anyone else like that, not even Hanma” he pointed out logically even with her on his shoulder.

“That's different.” Jade protested, “I hate Hanma.”

Draken chuckled “Yeah,I hate him too, but you’d think that trying to get someone's attention in a romantic sense you’d go about it in a better way, not by being mean to them and calling them names.” the older male told her.

Jade pouted, her cheeks still a bright pink. “Not my fault that feelings are hard, I just kinda didn't want to put a label on it and also have you guys find out about it, no offense but I dont think I'm ready for that level of teasing yet.” the young girl confessed, a red blush now staining her cheeks at the thought.

Draken chuckled, “You’d think that hanging around us, you’d be a little less easy to embarrass.”

“I'm not embarrassed, I just didn’t want you all to butt into my private life.” Jade scoffed with false bravado

“Uh huh, and that’s why you're as red as you are right now, then right? So you won’t mind telling the rest of the gang what you told me, I mean, if anything even just to avoid the bullying lecture.” Draken told her sternly.

Jade shifted from her spot on Draken’s shoulder, mouth opening and closing but unfortunately for her, he had a point. “Okay, you’ve made your point, you can put me down now.”

Draken snickered, “Yeah right, like that’s gonna happen Tiny, I put you down and you're gonna try and run again, besides there's Takimitchi doesn’t your big brother look so worried?”

Draken asked sarcastically,mainly because Takimitchi looked angry as hell and if they were in a private area, Jade was sure she would’ve ended up over Mitchi’s knee, the thought didn’t help her blush.

Takimitchi sneered at her, “So what's going on? Cause Jade your choices are you will read this letter out loud or one of us will read it for you and we will ask questions. Personal questions. Deeply personal questions.”

Mikey looked at her and sniggered, “She looks like she'd rather die than do either of those options.” Indeed, the young girl looked ghost white, except for two bright red spots on her cheeks, her eyes wide, “You you want me to do what?” she croaked.

Takimitchi’s features softened a little bit when he saw how nervous his baby sister looked but he didn't back down, he wouldn’t have been a member of ToMan had he backed down.“Your choices are, either you will read this letter out loud or one of us will read it for you. You choose.“

Jade gulped “ An-and if I refuse to choose either option?” she stuttered a bit, “Then one of us will read it for you anyway.” Mikey replied easily as the rest of the gang watched this byplay play out.

Baji deciding to open the envelope, making Jade jump at the sound of rustling paper as the older male then shook out the letter with a flourish

“Are we sure Baji can even read?” Jade asked incredulously, trying to keep a nervous laugh out of her voice.

“If you're asking that question, it's a good way to get him to read it out loud on purpose just to embarrass you even further,” Kazutora whispered to Jade seriously. “remember Baji doesn’t have shame.”

Jade gulped, feeling as if she just swallowed down a bunch of snakes, her stomach felt squirmy at the thought, as the consequences of her actions were catching up with her.

Baji looked at her “Do you want to read this or can I?” He asked, grinning, Jade glared at him. “You act like I would want to read it.” Her nose crinkled in disgust, even as her stomach rolled with shame.

“You wrote it” was all the long haired arsonist said in a cheerful tone, grinning at her outraged face, as he held the paper and started to read, his voice up in a higher range, obviously making fun of her.

“My dearest Naoto, wow you sound so nice here Tiny” Baji said in a teasing coo as he continued to read out loud, “this is starting to sound like one of those letters I get from the girls at school, you know the ones, the “I really love you” letters.”

Jade groaned and just blurted out, “That's because that's what it is!” she shouted in mortification, her face feeling like it was on fire.

There was a stunned silence.

Then…

The whole gang cooed at her.

She did not just say that out loud.

“So cute”

She did not just say that out loud.

“Awww, Wittle Jade has her first crush!”

This couldn't be happening.

“This is too cute”

Jade felt her mouth going dryer as heat crept up her neck, going into her ears, even the tip of her nose felt warm.

“Awww she's blushing”

She groaned, the butterflies in her stomach working in overtime,this couldn't be happening.

The young woman went and leaned against a wall in defeat, knowing that if she tried to run again, she'd just get caught again and teased even worse.

“You know we only tease you because we care right?” Takimitchi said, coming up and leaning next to her on her left side.

“Doesn't make it any less embarrassing.” Jade moaned, her face was still feeling warm.

“But still have you tried talking to him?” Smiley asked

“No, cause each time I would go up to him to talk to him, you guys would show up and glare at me.”

“Oh” was all Smiley could say to that, “we thought you were bullying him not awkwardly trying to flirt.” Angry tacked on.

Jade blushed even worse

“What made you think that I would've wanted you to know that I was flirting with him?!” she shouted feeling embarrassed and trapped, “maybe I didn't want anyone to know that I am in.. in that... that with him” she couldn't even bring herself to say the word, it was way too embarrassing, it felt like admitting a weakness she didn't want others to know about.

“In what?” Mikey drawled, a teasing note to his voice, “In love with him? Come on, you can say it.

Your.

In.

Love.” Mikey said, enunciating each word with a poke to her blushing cheeks.

Jade flushed even hotter, the blush almost making a light of its own.

Baji snickered, “She can't even say it without blushing, that is just too precious.” he cooed, reaching out to pinch her still red cheek.

“What? It is,” Takemitchi said, snickering at her, “It is just too cute, you can't even say the words, can you?” He teased her.

“Shut up” Jade grumbled, embarrassment still apparent in her body language, no matter how hard she tried to hide it.

Even Mitsuya chuckled at her, "So wanna let us all know when you're done planning our demise and go back to confessing your love?”

Jade glared at him, but the effect was slightly ruined by her blushing cheeks and the pout on her lips.

“I think she's still planning our demise, and unless we say something for her, I don't think she's gonna be confessing her love anytime soon.” Draken said, grinning when he caught sight of her face, she looked like she was facing down a firing squad. “Relax Tiny, I'm not gonna go and tell him, but I make no promises for the rest of these assholes.”

Jade squirmed at the thought of the gang telling Naoto that She was in love with him, and vowed to not let that happen.

[rakumel]

So guess what my dumb ass apparently did?

I had a folder on my computer dedicated to holding screenshots, art, and writing about one of my XV2 characters, Yokan. This guy, after yet another makeover:

And somehow - I have no idea how, I don't even have any memory of doing it - I deleted the whole damn thing. Couldn't find it in File Explorer, it wasn't stuck in the recycling bin. Maybe my cat somehow deleted it on one of her many traipses across the keyboard, or maybe I did it while sleepy, thinking it was something else.

It's not a huge loss - there was only one old drawing of Yokan in there, and I had backups of the latest in-game screenshots I took of him - but there was one text document I wrote that had a small piece of his story, and it was actually good writing for once, but now it's vanished into the ether. I can rewrite the gist of it, but it likely won't be the same, as I doubt I can remember all the lines I came up with, and I definitely won't remember the notes I had that helped me build up to that final version :( It was the only thing I'm a little sad about losing.

However - the loss has for some reason encouraged me to get over myself a bit and share more of my actual work on my characters, rather than just the game screenshots. Although, to be honest, right now I don't have anything more than pencil sketches of any of my XV2 characters... but whatever. If they're bad and unpolished, GOOD. If nothing else, the AI crawlers can choke on them. >:)

And so, here we go. The first real sharing - mostly about drawing Yokan, but a little bit about him too. Let the sketches and the babbling commence! (under the cut)

The biggest challenge I had in actually drawing Yokan was getting used to drawing the whole structure of the head and making it look less...clunky, I guess? Or weird, maybe? I am kind of surprised at how much improvement there was in only about 4 months.

Even so, some of the anatomy continues to baffle me. The proportions of the head are wild even by big-eyed anime standards, and it's difficult for me to accept. And... eyebrows are part of a helmet? What? That's just...ugh, I don't want to say stupid, I'll just say I don't like it. I know they're aliens and don't need to conform to Earth biology, nor do they need to emote the same way Earth creatures do, but I don't care. Still! Frustrating! To draw!

It doesn't help that when I see that helmet design, I automatically think of the MST3K version of the movie Prince of Space and I can't take it seriously at all. ("I shouldn't have let Mom make my costume." "He looks like a welder who has fainting spells.")

Second biggest challenge was trying to make Yokan look distinctly different from...well, obviously Cooler and Frieza ("that Other Guy too"), but also Cell ("That Guy"). (Yokan is who I was trying to draw when I accidentally drew Cell that one time.) (I don't call any DBZ characters by name in my sketchbook notes because I'm not rational deeply self-conscious of anyone finding it and discovering what a massive loser fangirl I am. The only reason I'm sharing this secret with you internet strangers is because you don't know who I am, aside from maybe one person who doesn't come here anymore.) (As far as I know)

Anyway, I paid what was probably way too much attention to tiny details like eye and nose shape to try to give him a more unique look. Also tried LOTS of variations on horns and armor, both in game and on paper. (Some of you may notice he's got different armor in sketches from the one in his screenshot. That's me experimenting.) After months of floundering, I'm finally starting to like Yokan's design now...though in a few more months that could change. Again. Damn it.

It's important to me that Yokan looks noticeably different - he's the last member of an icejin clan that was thought to have been completely eliminated by Cold's forces some time ago. Why join the Time Patrol and risk running into them, then? Probably because on some level, Yokan knows he can't hide forever. That at some point, he'll have to face his fears and assert his right just to simply be alive. Might as well do it from a place where he can get stronger and even do trial runs of his possible final showdown.

Ignore the sea dragons in the corner - okay, I can't make you do that, but they don't actually have anything to do with Yokan. I just didn't feel like editing them out.

The upper left corner, though, is Yokan's uncle Tsubuan. Sort of a rough, no-nonsense, soldier type. Not pictured: Yokan's father Koshian. (His screencaps also perished in the mystery deletion.) Both of them died well before Yokan ever joined the Time Patrol.

What IS pictured: Yokan playing the violin. He took an interest in Earth's classical music after hearing it played on a sound system in someone's dorm room. He taught himself to play from videos and practice, then later was put in touch with a music teacher.

Her name is Haupia, an ordinary human who's not a fighter. Her world got invaded and eventually destroyed, but she was rescued in the nick of time by a Breakers crew. That's supposed to be her walking with Yokan in the lower left, but she's too skinny and the hair's wrong. Some slightly more accurate Haupia design:

Also Aloe (another XV2 OC, my main one) on the bottom of the page, and some Human Yokan for... reasons. Nothing to do with the main story he and the others are in.

Anyhow, that's a few sketches and a few peeks at Yokan's story. I'll have to rewrite that lost part of it, and maybe more, sometime in the near future.

[overcookedsushi]

The Retcon King Death of a story, and Rebirth of the same story...

This character has been through more redesigns and rewrites than any other character, and is probably one of the few characters to survive a complete scrapping, technically twice~ I always wanted a character based on the King in Yellow... The general aesthetics and art I would see would looking him up always gave me so much inspiration. In the earlier drafts of the story, a Analog Horror/King in Yellow/ Eldritch parasite was the main antagonist in the story, and would remain that way for quite a few story rewrites. But eventually I simplified the story immensely, and it's whole plot, character, driving force, all of it was wrote out of the story entirely. It would be a good few laters till I decided, "You know what? I want him to be in this freakshow somehow."

The very first draft was an incredibly simple idea. King in Yellow/Carnival Barker/Old Tech was the combo. The idea was really simple, him speaking into a mic, being the announcer and generally being very glitchy, staticy, analog horror adjacent.

This could have been generally fine and would have made for a great announcer character for any future game taking place in the freakshow itself... but, I was still remembering my old version... the main villain reduced to a voice and nothing more? I couldn't do it...

So I tried another design... Going for more intimidation factor, but also trying to balance the three aspects of the combo idea. Slowly making it more of a Tech Priest who would also wear yellow and have lots of static...

I definitely tried to make this version work... and again it definitely could have... but it didn't feel right. It was very visually busy, but something was missing. And I knew what was missing... it was his old story.

I was so damn attached to his old story, but I couldn't just drop him in wholesale. In the old story he kills Pin and literally consumes all time and space. I needed to find a way, but how? Most of these characters were deaths of nonliving things. I loved the idea that he represents the death of the first draft and is bitter about not having his fame and spotlight. But it wasn't until this next design that it started to click.

This is when it started to make sense to me. He wasn't just the death of a story, but the death of a whole story. Filled with characters, places, ideas and plot points that will never see the light of day. It is kind of hard to explain what I mean without revealing something really crucial about him... but I also don't want to reveal it yet, or ever till I can do it properly...

But he is the death of a particular story, one that did start but never got a chance to end. One could never imagine the bitterness a character like that would have towards the author if it could have free will. To be born, and to be told you will thrive, but forgotten and your story never told. No conclusion, no closure.

In a weird round about way...

This is my apology to a very specific character. Not the villain of the first draft, but a character I never got to use to their fullest. Someone I was proud to have made, and legitimately upset I never got tell the tale of. Plot twists, personality quirks, hardships and betrayals and revenge stories that will only ever be known by me. The Retcon King is my way of giving closure to a character I wanted to have an ending but never got one.

And it is because of this, this personal connection, the character now thrives. Representing the death of a story, and bitter resentment and anger towards leaving the most treasured among us sealed away in a flesh palace that will one day die by itself.

Make your dream game. Tell your dream story. Create your dream comic. Don't let your children rot away forgotten.

[ruiniel]

Fandom: Castlevania series (2017-2021)

Pairing: Alucard x Reader

Characters: Alucard, Reader, Original Characters

Rating: Mature / 18+ only

Also on ao3

Tags/CW: Accident context, Depressive character, Portal Fantasy, Isekai, There is a plot, And language nerdery, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Explicit Language, References to Depression, First Meetings, Character-meets-world, Near Death Experience, References to Loss, Grief/Mourning, POV Second Person, Language Barrier, Violence, Slow burn, References to Canon, Rewriting show canon, Because why not, More tags coming

Summary:

Entertained an idea as I was doing writing warm-ups for CV: what if someone in the 21st century stumbled upon this stranger during a turbulent storm, narrowly avoiding running them over, and what's more they can't understand a word coming out of their mouth.

I.

You start at the sudden garble of voices on the radio and turn the volume down, eyes then back on the gray road. It's the start of the weekend and you cannot wait to get to your old, decrepit — but still reliable — family cabin set beyond the familiar wooded hills, a few hours' drive out of town. Once you manage better, you'll refurbish and mend it, keep it functional for as long as you can; too many things had time destroyed recently. 

The erosion in your ears is joined by a deafening crack of thunder, and you sigh as you watch the clouds hanging from the skies like a mass of lead.

“We needed this, didn't we?” you mumble at the car, as the trees slip by you on either side, their crowns and limbs bending under rising winds.

It should be getting better by now; you've been this way for months, but finally, things should be looking up again. 

It's not happening; why isn't it happening? 

It's not as though you didn't try getting back on track, struggling to do the things you used to do but no longer find joy in, still banging your metaphorical fists against the walls of your stubborn mind. There's a gnawing bite in the pit of your stomach which comes and goes — that you’re missing something, that something’s not quite right at certain moments, like the wrongly placed piece in a jigsaw puzzle preventing the completion of a greater picture.

The radio's still out and you forgot your phone in the back, which means you'll take the rumble of thunder for entertainment. The skies are even darker, now crested by lightning like holy wounds, cold and white-grey, phantom-like. Now here, now there, so fast they make you blink twice, and your foot eases on that gas pedal. “Never like this before…” you wonder, trying to remember the last time you saw nature so vicious.

If nothing else, it’s a great show.

You’re fairly sure the forest ahead and the faraway places beyond it are currently being drenched, and you hope the patched roof is sturdy enough to withstand nature at its angriest. “So much for weather forecasts,” you say to the water splotches crashing angrily against the windshield, until the dull pattern becomes a thrum against the rigid body of the vehicle, taking you with it in all senses. If only—

“Fuck!”

Your foot slams the brake but not fast enough, and your horror at the humanoid lump you’re trying to avoid running over freezes you but somehow both your hands still grasp the wheel, and next you're skidding to a precarious halt, to what it feels like narrowly avoiding flipping over with the whole damn thing.

Your hands are clammy on the steering wheel as you open your eyes, shivering, and your gaze flies to the rear view mirror; someone, is there. Someone is there, possibly hurt. 

“Oh, oh shit. Shit, shit-shit!” With adrenaline still pumping in your veins you jump out of the car and throw the back door open to search for your phone and call an ambulance, but it must have been flung who-knows-where while you were avoiding death — it's nowhere to be found.

A weak, strangled groan behind you has you whirling around, feet moving and hurrying towards the person now trying to rise to their knees and failing. 

You reach them, staring at a young face that goes with the earlier sound you heard, then at long, tattered hair, and a… ragged cape, dark and sleek with rain. What hits you most, what freezes you more than the pouring water, though, are the eyes. 

Staring at you wildly through the curtain of rain, too confused to not deepen your worry. So light, amber, golden. 

“Hey, hey a-are you hurt?!”

The absolute eeriness about them — him? — leaves you as stunned as the shock you just went through, all relief included.

He doesn't answer you, instead brings a long, heavily cuffed hand to his temple, mumbling something in a language you can't grasp but sounds faintly like 'cali'.

“C-what's that?” you ask. “Is that you? Or where you're from? Are you hurt?” you ask again though he looks left and right, rises, turns a few times, gazes at this hands, then at you, taking in your face and clothes, and the absolute insanity of this situation is beside you when that unusual face twists into utter horror and he plunges his —gloved?— fingers through his hair, raking them over his scalp.

You look him over, and apart from being soaked to the bone and dressed very, very strangely, he seems unharmed. “Listen, I can't find my—”

You gasp as he grabs your arm, staring at you wide eyed and asking you question after question in that language you just don't get and as you struggle you quickly and easily free yourself, only to see him slowly fall against you and is he ever heavy; barely you lead him down to the ground.

It's freezing cold in this downpour. There's a barren field on either side, the nearest town well half a day's drive away. Farther than your cabin, and of course the wiser thing to do would be not to take a complete stranger whom you cannot even understand there, alone with you. Besides, what if it's someone who would do you harm? Worse things have happened for less.

Even with these thoughts you rush back to the car, grab a lantern from the glove compartment and search earnestly for the only device you had on you — the phone. You find it, under one seat, screen cracked. You grab it and try anyway, but it won't charge up no matter what you do.

“Can't believe I'm doing this…” you sigh, throwing the device onto the front seat before you go to retrieve the first aid kit, only to realize there seems to be nothing needing splinting or bandaging. You'd seen no wounds on him, no outward sign of trauma. That might not be the whole story, you know, but what else to do?

You head back, see him rising to his feet again. Your steps become cautious. He's taller than you expected, but hunched and so confused as he repeats that word again, over and over, hugging his arms at his chest. Your sensible worries don't strike as hard anymore, and you come closer. “I… can try to keep you dry until you come to,” you say, but it's like he can't quite look at you, those peculiar eyes wild and head turning left and right, as though seeking something far above or deep below, and when your gazes finally collide, your thought flicks back to the jigsaw puzzle.

You nearly trip over in your haste to help when his knees buckle and he goes limp, falling to the ground again. His face is pale, deathly pale, long wet hair stuck to the skin.

The storm no longer rages, its cry is more wind than rain. The branches of trees still creak above as you pant here, between somewhere and nowhere, on the side of an empty country road with a stranger in your arms.

Part II - Part III - Part IV - Part V - Part VI - Part VII - Part VIII - Part IX - Part X - Part XI

Banner illustration: Fifth Avenue at Twilight, ca. 1910 by Birge Harrison

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MASTERLIST: CASTLEVANIA SERIES x READER

More of my work is on AO3 [many stories not on tumblr]

BLOG MASTERPOST (all you need to know)

Likes/comments/reblogs always and forever appreciated

[ijosten03]

A rewrite in the whole “I don’t know if we should save Nico, cause I don’t trust him” in Mark of Athena. Because I didn’t like it.

“All I’m saying, is that I’m not sure Nico is someone we should trust, no offense Hazel” said Jason. Hazel’s eyes turned to Jason, ready to talk back but she was interrupted by Leo

“Neither am I”

“Yeah, I mean, he knew about both camps and Annabeth told me about the whole river Styx thing, maybe he’s not really in our side” said Piper doubtfully

“Okay, First, the bath in the River Styx was because he wanted to help me and he didn’t know Hades will lock me up, AND he saved me right after, so…”Percy started

“Yes, but he knew about both camps, and about you Percy, and he said absolutely nothing. Maybe he and his dad are working with Gaea too” interrupted Jason, Annabeth looked at her boyfriend, Percy’s eyes were dark with rage

“I do not give a shit if he’s not on our side. I’m not going to let him die”

“It’s a trap and you know it” said Leo “ you’re going right where Gaea wants you to”

“Does it look like I care? I’m going to find Nico and break him out of that jar”

“If you die because of it, our quest is dammed and so is the whole world” Leo yelled

“So be it. I’m going to save my friend” Percy somehow looked taller than Jason. Percy’s fatal flaw was personal loyalty. And right now he was ready to let the entire world die, just to save a friend

“So you don’t care about the world? You don’t understand how dangerous this is?” Jason yelled, getting closer to Percy.

“Of course I care. But we still have time for that. Nico has five days only, he’s more important” Percy yelled again.

“I’m any case, Annabeth’s quest is more important” he said “ do you want your people to die in the hands of the Romans?”

“No one is dying and I’m making sure of it. So shut the hell up Grace”

“I’m not letting you leave then” Jason said. His blue eyes looking at Percy’s

“You think you can stop me? I’d love to see you try” Percy looked dangerous, Hazel thought that’s what Poseidon looked like when he was angry.

“Piper says one word and you don’t go off of the ship”

“Nico dies, and Piper will not longer have a boyfriend” The threat left Jason speechless.

“Percy” annabeth said “ that’s enough”

He hadn’t realized how close he was to Jason or that he was now holding his pen, ready to uncap it. Jason had also reached for his weapon.

“I’m going to find Nico and maybe kill two stupid giants, feel free to come with me” Percy said and turned to his girlfriend

“Percy, I can’t go with you” said Annabeth “my mother’s quest…”

“I know Annabeth” his voice was way softer than before “I’m not asking you to, I’ll do it alone if I have to. But I’m not leaving him”

“I know” she smiled “you’ll get him back”

“We’ll help you” said Hazel, Frank behind her, nodding “thanks for doing this Percy”

“There’s nothing to thank Hazel, I care for him” Percy said and then looked at Jason, Leo and Piper “ you can help me or you can do something else, I don’t give a damn. I’m not leaving him to die”

Jason, Leo and Piper ended up agreeing. Percy would do it on his own otherwise, and they needed him alive.

[clacing]

wait i wanna hear ur homura hot take

I'm glad you asked *pulls out Power Point presentation*

I want to make it clear that while i’m very much on the “Homura did nothing wrong” train, that’s not because I actually don’t think she’s done anything wrong but because so many people are left confused by what exactly it is she’s done in the first place and why she’s done it, and in order to try to make sense of what they’ve seen they start literally making stuff up to get mad at her over. And it’s a shame because you can absolutely tell the writers knew the movie was going to be controversial and that's why they acknowledged pretty much everything they needed to right there in the text

I think the most popular bad faith interpretation of her actions, and the one that most makes my blood boil, is that “she damned the whole world just so she could keep Madoka to herself”. Setting aside the fact that we don’t know what exactly the repercussions on the world will be, and that for now the world she’s created seems fairly happy for everyone but Homura herself, her “just wanting Madoka for herself” is not only disgustingly out of character, but something that’s discredited in the movie. Madoka was literally coming to take her with her in the Law of Cycles forever. If being with Madoka was what she wanted, she could have had it. She turned it down twice.

Homura was willing to spend all of eternity in her cursed state, without ever being found by the Law of Cycles, if that meant Madoka would be safe. Homura’s mission of protecting Madoka never stopped, not even when Madoka became a god - it just shifted into protecting the new world Madoka created, into preserving her order. In Wraith Arc (for a third time) she refuses to meet Madoka again, even though she theoretically has the power to, because she feels Madoka would be disappointed in her if she just gave up like that, and even Sayaka, in Rebellion, mentions how hard Homura has been working. As hard as it was, she’d accepted Madoka’s sacrifice and she was perfectly fine fighting so that her sacrifice wouldn’t have been in vain, because she truly believed it was what Madoka had wanted. Despite wanting Madoka more than anything in the world and arguably wanting to die for a long time, she’s been soldiering on, doing her best to make Madoka proud, waiting to be with Madoka again, and yet when she’s presented with the opportunity she denies herself the peace she’s longed so much for because it would put Madoka in danger. 

Her job is just never done because the Incubators are never going to stop trying to get to Madoka, and if they do her sacrifice - a sacrifice that Homura, after the flowerbed scene, is now convinced Madoka was forced into making! A sacrifice that she thinks is making Madoka miserable! - is going to be meaningless. And she can’t protect Madoka if Madoka takes her into the Law Of Cycles - so she pulls her down with her and rewrites the world to give her the life she should have had, all while taking the burden of being the awful, awful person who overthrew God onto herself. And yeah, her actions are misguided and definitely reckless - not that there was any time to think her options through, really  - but they are not the actions of a horrible, selfish monster, even if that's what Homura herself would like to believe.

What bothers me even more is the implication that Homura is somehow doing this because she wants Madoka to love her? I have read the worst things - that she’s trying to manipulate her, that she wants to isolate her from her other friends, that she’s meant to represent an abusive partner... my dudes, Homura literally ends the movie by telling Madoka that she doesn’t even care if they become enemies, because she’ll just keep wishing for a world where Madoka can be happy. She gives back Madoka’s ribbons, their red string of fate, while saying this. She knows what she’s doing is wrong and she knows Madoka might end up hating her for it. She doesn’t care about reciprocation - she cares about protecting Madoka. To an unhealthy and (self?) destructive degree! But still not in any way that could be described as being for her own gain.

(That’s not to say that she doesn’t want reciprocation at all - but she’s never acted on her feelings before, even withdrawing from Madoka entirely in later timelines to be able to focus on protecting her better, and she hates herself far too much to start now)

AND ONE MORE THING I hate when people say Homura did what she did “because she’s obsessed with Madoka”. I don’t think anyone could deny that she is obsessed with Madoka, but obsession wasn’t what was driving her. The movie literally tells you it wasn’t (”What is that? Obsession? Desire? No, it’s something else”). They make a big deal out of Homura revealing to Kyubey that her soul gem was corrupted by love. And this might just be a pet peeve of mine but love is not always good and healthy and it not being presented in a sanitized light for once doesn’t somehow make it Not Love. So it bothers me that people looked at a traumatized 14 year old doing everything in her power to save the girl she loves from a terrible fate and then went on to call her a yandere or a sociopath or a psycho lesbian even though the writers bent over backwards to prove them wrong. 

[charlie-minion]

Could the same SPN finale make a little more sense with some additions/changes?

I’ve had the idea for this post stuck in my head for days now, but with every new conspiracy theory and every new eventuality in the fandom, it became difficult to cool down enough to write something less ship-related and more narrative-focused.

What Supernatural and non-SPN fans have to understand is that a lot of us have expressed disappointment and frustration after 15x20, not because of Destiel (that’s just one part of the whole problem), but because the finale doesn’t make sense. Everything was leading up to something beautifully crafted until the end of 15x19. Beyond that, it’s hard to understand what happened. The story rendered all the character growth irrelevant, invalidated the themes of free will and “family don’t end in blood”, regressed to the original brother codependency they spent 15 years trying to overcome, made a queer non-binary character in a male vessel and a deaf female character basically disposable, and kept the show’s reputation of queerbaiting and misogyny until its very last breath.

That’s not going out with a bang! At least not a positive one. We all were ready to mourn Supernatural, but we wanted to feel proud of its legacy, and somehow TPTB managed to tarnish that legacy in less than 45 minutes. What a way to ruin the other more than 13,600 minutes of story!

It doesn’t matter who is to blame (The CW, Robert Singer, Andrew Dabb). It doesn’t matter why it happened (homophobia, censorship, marketing for Walker, bad writing). What matters is that at the end of the day, the finale that aired is what we got and that’s going to hurt for a long time. It hurts even more when we realize that the same finale could have easily made more sense, even without being perfect.

That’s what I want to do in this post. I want to show you how things would have been less jarring (for the fandom), while still keeping the goal to please the general audience.

Before I begin rewriting 15x20, I have to mention that I talked to my conservative boomer sister about the finale. She hasn’t watched the second half of season 15 yet (she’s waiting for Netflix to have it), but she’s been watching the show for a long time (she introduced me to it 8 years ago). She’s the perfect example of a viewer from the general audience. Loves the show but doesn’t give a second thought to it and definitely isn’t paying attention to character development or themes. Doesn’t engage with fandom, actors, or any of the show’s social media. Pure GA! When I told her the series finale had aired, she asked me about it and I refused to give her spoilers. Because of that, she told me the ending SHE wanted. She said she would be happy with either of two possibilities: the boys retiring and finally living a normal life OR they going to heaven and finding peace at last. She saw Sam and Dean as a unit, which means: both retiring or both going to heaven. AND she saw Cas as part of that, too. She wasn’t so sure about Jack. And for her, we could use the “Eileen who?” and it wouldn’t be a joke. She didn’t remember her.

NOW IT’S TIME TO WRITE A NEW VERSION OF 15X20 (KEEPING 15X18 AND 15X19 EXACTLY THE SAME AS THEY AIRED). This will be a very long post:

The opening remains almost the same. No “Carry on my wayward son” to induce feels. Too soon and too predictable! (Reasoning: Everyone was expecting it to play right there, so it would bring more tears at the end)

In the opening, after the scene where Jack says “People won’t need to pray to me or sacrifice to me”, we also see the scene from 15x19 where he says “I won’t be hands on”. Then we see the rest of the opening as it was. (Reasoning: People needed to be reminded that Jack would NOT intervene and that’s why later on, he would NOT save Dean).

We get the same montage, but when Sam takes a break from his morning run, we see him reading a message on his phone. A simple: “Hey Sam, what’s new?” from Eileen. Sam smiles fondly and begins to type a response we don’t get to see. The next scene continues the same, Sam making breakfast. (Reasoning: A text was a very simple way to show that Eileen was alive and still in communication with Sam).

The montage slowly ends as Sam enters the library (not after he sits down). He seems to be talking on the phone but we only hear an “I’ll tell him. Bye”. As he walks towards the table, he tells Dean: “Charlie says hi. Mentioned something about Stevie’s perfect scrambled eggs we have to try.” Dean’s answer is “Awesome!” (Reasoning: Just ONE line was needed to unbury Charlie and her girlfriend. ONE LINE).

Sam sits down, opens his laptop and everything continues the same. The title card shows for the last time.

YOU SEE? In the first 4 minutes they could have acknowledged that THREE WOMEN were alive and safe: Eileen, Charlie and Stevie. It wasn’t hard! Don’t blame bad writing on Covid! Now let’s continue.

Sam and Dean arrive at the Pie Fest just the same. Dean goes to get some “damn pie” and Sam takes out his phone. He dials and when someone picks up, he says “Hey, Jody, how are ya?” We don’t hear the rest of the conversation. The scene moves to Dean coming with his 6 portions of pie. Dean sits down and Sam tells him, “Talked to Jody. The other hunters haven’t had much work lately.” “That’s good, isn’t it?”, Dean says. All we get from Sam is “Yeah.” So, Dean looks at him and asks “what’s wrong?” like it happened in the episode. (Reasoning: Again, a couple of lines to make sure the people that were killed in 15x18 are safe and remembered by the boys in 15x20. Why is this important? Because they’re family!)

The conversation about Sam’s sad face happens the same. Sam is the one that mentions Cas and Jack. (Reasoning: Because this episode was so Sam-centered, it’s obvious he was the protagonist in the finale. If we see him communicating with Eileen, Charlie, and Jody, then it’s NORMAL, even expected of him to be the one to bring up Cas and Jack). Without these additions, it’s harder for people to understand that most of the finale was NOT from Dean’s POV but from Sam’s.

Dean’s “if we don’t keep living, then all that sacrifice is gonna be for nothing” stays the same. (Reasoning: I believe it’s necessary that the show sticks to the importance of “letting go” and “what is dead should stay dead” for the first time ever because the message is “even when you lose someone you love, you can still find some form of happiness and keep living, for you and for them, because that’s what they would have wanted”. Bringing someone back means “I can’t live without you”, and that’s just more codependency. It’s how the demon deals began in the Winchester family –Mary being the first one to do it. This would explain why Dean didn’t ask Jack to bring Cas back, as he asked Chuck. He understood Jack was NOT going to interfere anymore and accepted it. Besides, when Cas saved Dean from hell, Dean thought he didn’t deserve to be saved. This time that Cas saved him, Dean finally feels worthy enough to accept that YES, HE DESERVED TO BE SAVED ALL ALONG, just as much as he deserved to be loved by that angel of the Lord. In this scene, Dean also says that the pain is not gonna go away, which means that from HIS PERPECTIVE, it still hurts that Cas is not there. The problem is that the finale is not showing his POV but Sam’s.  

Sam pies Dean on the face just the same. (Reasoning: That part was just to avoid ending the scene on a sad note).

Everything related to the case happens exactly the same. (Reasoning: At this point, people don’t really care about the MoTW, they care about Sam and Dean).

NOTE 1: The case is important to show that even when the Winchesters are finally free of Chuck’s influence, they CHOOSE to keep hunting. It isn’t something they do out of revenge or because it is their destiny anymore. Maybe they were forced into the life at first, but they’ve learned to find joy in saving people. Being hunters is who they are. However, the fact that a job application was shown on Dean’s desk is also important because it means he was willing to explore what else was there for him besides hunting. Maybe he could find a balance? Maybe he was thinking it was time to quit? We will never know! The thing is that Sam only finds out about it when he goes into Dean’s room after his brother is dead, so maybe that’s when it hits him that Dean wanted to explore his options, and Sam starts to think it’s time for him to do the same.  

NOTE 2: I believe the masks the vampires are wearing is something we can blame on covid. If they had their faces covered, it was easier to use people from the SPN crew for some scenes, instead of using more actors unnecessarily.

NOTE 3: When Sam and Dean arrive at the barn, we get 3 visuals to remember Cas in the same scene (those are for the fandom, not for the general audience): a) the barn, obviously; b) the bag that resembles Cas’ trenchcoat so much that many people thought that’s what it was; and c) two feathers hanging on Dean’s right when he opens the trunk.

The scene with the throwing star happens the same. (Reasoning: The episode is still told from Sam’s point of view, so it makes sense that he fondly sees his brother as a man child).

Jenny the vampire? Uhhh… I mean, it’s not the best piece of writing I’ve ever seen, but it’s not the worst, so okay. That stays the same. (Reasoning: There is none, but she’s not what really ruined the finale, so whatever!)

Dean still dies impaled on a rebar. (Reasoning: OK. HERE ME OUT!!! I hate as much as everyone else that Dean is killed. I think it’s lazy writing, but that’s what we got and I can’t change that in this re-write, so if killing Dean is what we have to work around, then, memes aside, death by rebar is better and here’s why. There’s no one to blame for Dean’s death: no Chuck (the boys were willingly hunting even after Chuck was defeated), no vampires (they were all killed and were no real threat, so it was impossible for Sam to begin a quest for revenge against all vampires. What was Sam going to blame? A rebar? Can you kill it? Hunt it? NO. It was an ordinary death, a stupid accident. Just like any person can die at any moment by slipping on a banana peel. Is it a good death? No, but it’s good to know he doesn’t die trying to save Sam or Cas, because Dean Winchester is NOT willing to give up his life in exchange for anyone else’s anymore.

Sam takes out his phone and says he’ll call for help, but his phone is more visible to the audience. He dials and it’s almost to his ear when Dean stops him and Sam hesitantly hangs up. (Reasoning: People have complained that Sam didn’t call an ambulance, but actually he tried to. It’s just that people missed that part, maybe?)

After Sam puts his phone back in his pocket and says “OK” to Dean, he adds, “I’ll pray to Jack”. Dean’s immediate answer is: “No hands on, remember?” “But Dean”, Sam says, and Dean interrupts him with “OK listen to me” and tells Sam what to do with the kids they rescued. (Reasoning: Jack is God now and how come Sam didn’t remember? The viewers remembered, so it was necessary to include a line that ruled the option out and that showed Dean didn’t want Jack to intervene. The rest was fine).

The lines “You knew it was always gonna end like this for me. It was supposed to end like this, right?” disappear completely from Dean’s monologue. (Reasoning: This is the most problematic part of Dean’s dying speech. He fought God and earned free will, he is no longer controlled by fate or destiny. Accepting that he is supposed to die on a hunt regresses his character development and denies his desire to keep living. This was a total mistake and should be removed).

Instead, if going to heaven is the ending TPTB wanted to give Dean, at least he should say something more empowering. Sam tells him that both of them are going to take the kids somewhere safe. Dean answers and the scene follows like this: “No. Sammy, we made our choice, didn’t we?”, he smiles with difficulty. “We were free to write our own story and we did. We decided to keep saving people, hunting things. Because it’s what we love despite the risks.” (Reasoning: If Dean’s going to die it doesn’t have to feel like it was always meant to be that way. He should die knowing that he exerted his free will until his last breath).

The rest of the dialogue between Sam and Dean happens almost the same. Except that instead of Dean saying “‘cause when it all came down to it, it was always you and me. It’s always been you and me”, he says “’cause when it all came down to it, we’ve always had each other’s backs. Always.” And instead of Sam saying “Don’t leave me”, he says “I still can try to save you.” (Reasoning: It sounds way less codependent without diminishing the importance of their love and support for each other).

Besides, let’s change Dean’s “I’m not leaving you” for “You don’t have to be alone. You’ve still got family.” The rest stays the same word by word. (Reasoning: Dean reminds Sam that “family don’t end in blood” and there are still lots of people out there who love Sam and will be with him).

“I love you so much, my baby brother” stays exactly the same. (Reasoning: Dean always had trouble to express the big L word. I always believed and said many times that before Dean could say “I love you” to Cas or any other character, he had to say it to Sam. So, this is important as part of Dean speaking his truth).

The last part when Dean insists Sam tell him that it’s okay stays the same. (Reasoning: It’s the final moment when the codependency cycle breaks. No more running in circles).

The forehead touch between them stays the same. (Reasoning: I think I would do something similar if my sister were dying. I know there are w*ncest shippers out there, but it shouldn’t matter because the moment feels appropriate for that kind of goodbye). 

See? There are changes but not too many. That’s why I’ve been saying that it was easier to get it right, yet they still managed to screw it up.

The second montage stays the same. (Reasoning: Life goes on, but of course Sam has to mourn).

The call about a case in Austin remains the same. (Reasoning: It’s the only part of the episode where someone from the found family is mentioned, so I think that Donna’s name is perfect in that moment. However, without the other additions I’ve made in this re-write, that off-hand mention feels too little. Its purpose was to tell the viewers that if Donna was alive, so were the others, but the way the episode was executed gave us an isolated Sam, incapable of having friends and a family without Dean).  

After 30 minutes of Sam’s POV, let’s finally see the last bit of Dean’s POV that we’ll ever get.

Dean arrives in Heaven and Bobby receives him. All their conversation stays almost the same, except that after mentioning Rufus and before saying “and your mom and dad…”, Bobby adds an “Ellen and Jo let me borrow their place”. (Reasoning: If you’re gonna put the man outside the Harvelle’s place, at least mention them for Jack’s sake!).

Besides, after Bobby tells Dean that Sam will be along and that time in heaven is different, Dean gives a small smile and says, “Well, there’s no rush. I want him to have a long, happy life.” Bobby answers with: “I would expect nothing less from you, boy” and tells him he got everything he could ever want, etc., just like it happened in the episode, and finishes by asking “What are you gonna do now, Dean?” (Reasoning: It’s important we know for sure that Dean is NOT codependent anymore and that he doesn’t expect to have a miserable afterlife just because his brother is not there yet).

Instead of saying “I think I’ll go for a drive” Dean says, “I think I know what I want” and walks towards baby. Bobby still tells him to have fun. (Reasoning: “Know what I want” is ambiguous enough to help us introduce the last piece of the puzzle, the one thing Dean’s wanted for many seasons and has never been able to express).

 The biggest change is coming:

Dean gets on the Impala and has a moment of silence while he contemplates the wheel. He begins to pray: “Hey, Cas, you got your ears on? I hear you’ve been busy working on this updated Heaven with Jack. You were right about him, Cas. You had faith in him and he saved us all. You could always see the best in everyone, even when they couldn’t see it themselves. Even when I couldn’t see it myself. There’s so much I want to tell you. Maybe you can visit sometime. I hope prayer’s still a thing up here.” (Reasoning: Dean’s side of the confession was unaddressed and that was terrible writing. If there was no way to get him to speak his truth textually, at least take him as close to it as possible).

We listen to a flutter of wings and a “Hello, Dean” from the back seat. We don’t see Cas, but the camera shows us Dean’s cocky smile and he says “Took you long enough.” He turns around slowly. End of scene. (Reasoning: The flutter of wings confirms that angels have their wings back and ties that loose end. The final “hello, Dean” was highly anticipated and it made sense. If Misha couldn’t be there to film, for whatever reason, or if the problem was the kind of conversation Dean and Cas would have, then don’t show it, but leave the door open. Let us know that the two characters were reunited and will talk, but whatever Dean has to say is so private that it’s not for us to hear, only for Cas.  

We finally hear “Carry on my wayward son” and get a montage that begins with Sam playing with his kid. Then we see Dean driving, super happy, and Sam living his life to the fullest. We still get Sam’s Blurry Wife, BUT… we see pictures of Eileen in the living room (not just of John, Mary, Sam, and Dean). We also see photos of Jody, Donna, Charlie, and AU!Bobby. (Reasoning: FAMILY DON’T END IN BLOOD).

The scene where Sam is wearing the party wig and looks miserable inside the Impala is cut and nobody talks about it ever again because it never existed. We get a scene of Sam teaching his son how to fix the car instead. (Reasoning: First of all, don’t give Sam a life where years later he’s still in pain. Second of all, the fucking wig was a crime).

Sam’s dying scene stays the same. The only thing is that his son signs a couple of phrases to him before actually speaking. (Reasoning: More confirmation that Dean Jr. is Eileen’s son).

We hear the final “Evanescence-like Carry on my wayward son”. Again we see the photos and there’s family other than the Winchesters there. (Reasoning: Obvious at this point).

The rest is exactly the same. The show began with two brothers and it’s okay if the last scene is with the two brothers reunited in Heaven. At this point, the other parts of the story are acceptable enough for us to feel happy that they get to see each other again after years of a happy (after)life.

Now look me in the eye and tell me this was too hard to execute. I still think that bad writing is a thing we can’t deny here, adding to the possible meddling of the Network. Maybe Dabb wanted us to hate the finale because he couldn’t get away with what he truly wanted. If that was his intention, then kudos to him. He and The CW really gave us a finale that only 30% of the fandom liked.

I hope you guys have enjoyed this and it helps to give you some peace of mind. In my heart, this was the finale we got. It wasn’t perfect, but it didn’t drop the ball either.

[multiplefandomsblog]

S/O who lost a bet to Kokichi, punishment being a Maid’s Dress

request; Ooooo, Requests are open! Could I have a female S/O who lost a bet and now has to wear a sexy maid outfit? And Kokichi is just. Eating. It. Up.

warnings; reader lost a bet and has to wear a maid dress, reader uses female pronouns and names, reader uses master(non-sexually), cussing, had to make kaito the ‘bad guy’ for trope reasons lmfao, kokichi gets jealous and possessive, they goof off a ton at the end, overall just fluff without much plot, and i.. i dont even know how to say this, i used this phrase i found from the internet “top 15 embarrassing things to say to strangers” so like,, watch out for that..! ahahahaha-

note; omfg i hate this one so much- most out of all my works, i stg i am the most disappointed in this one. please don’t even read it- i could’ve done so much better ;-; man, i just butchered this like a fricking idiot-- sorry anon!!!! you seriously deserved so much better, i am so sorry. there are so many issues with this- the ending, the cringe, the messiness, the fucking clichés- seriously, please please forgive me. although you probably shouldn’t, i am just so so sorry T_T please don’t be afraid to ask me if you want this rewritten, i am like, BEGGING YOU TO ASK ME TO REWRITE THIS SAVIBVDHBSDKJ

word count; 2.1k

You took a deep breath before leaving your dorm, mentally preparing yourself for the walk of shame to the dining room where you had to… you didn’t even want to say it, nor acknowledge it. The bet you had lost the day before with Kokichi, had left you with nothing but bitterness in the end. Your eyebrows were permanently creased, an expression of pure regret on your face as you shuffled unenthusiastically down the hall in your frilly maid’s outfit. 

Shuichi greeted you as soon as he noticed the dress, a concerned, confused and albeit a bit flustered expression on his face as he did. “H-hey S/o! Um, so are you going to the dining hall?” He asked an obvious question, just so he could somehow get you to talk about your huge dress. Only nodding shamefully, you stifled a sigh. 

Shuichi only made a noise of acknowledgement, letting the conversation go stale as he was too afraid to address the elephant in the room, himself. You were both silent, Saihara standing in front of you, awkwardly planted on his spot while he looked at everything but you. 

He didn’t say anything, only occasionally sparing glances at your dress as he stood like a tree. Getting irked from the silence, you deadpanned, “... You want to know why I’m wearing a maid’s dress.” He flushed at even the mention of the word, as if you had said something terrible.

“Y-you don’t have to te-” Disrupting his excuse, you looked him dead in the eye, and uttered one word, “Kokichi.” Shuichi blinked at the name, before nodding in pity. After your short response, he required no further questions, the single name was all it took for the realization to wash over him. Even if he wasn’t a detective, it wouldn’t take less than a second to know what was going on. 

As if the said-Kokichi had been waiting for you to say that, Kokichi suddenly popped out of nowhere, scaring the two of you at his sudden appearance, “Oh? What’s my maid doing with Saihara-chan? Not wasting time I hope~” He laughed sadistically at your suffering, “Chop chop my maid! Since I’m your master, you’re gonna have to follow my every order! So don’t even try to disobey me; cuz I’m sure maid-chan knows what happens when she does, right? Nishishi!” You cringed at the nickname, ere sighing in defeat and letting him drag you to the dining room where you’d soon meet your demise.

You looked back at Shuichi one last time, mouthing a, ‘Help me.’ as Kokichi dragged you away. Shuichi only sent back a sheepish and apologetic look, in which you glared at him, betrayal overtaking you.

A couple of minutes later of countless teasing and judgemental looks sent your way, you were finally at the dreaded destination. To your surprise, Kokichi eagerly kicked the door to the dining room open before you could even prepare yourself, the entire class turning around at the loud noise. Kaito was first to speak up about the dramatic entrance, ‘Kokichi!? What the actual F-! … f-ffffffffffuuhh..” Kaito trailed off, his attention shifting off Kokichi, to focusing on you in a maid’s dress. 

Despite wanting you to feel the pure unfiltered humiliation, the sadistic bastard definitely did not love the way Kaito was eyeing you. Smile faltering for a second, he considered dragging you to his own room and having you perform a private show for him instead of these assholes. Shaking his head, he tried dispersing the thoughts of… jealousy? No, that can’t be it. 

He decided he’d delay his feelings of conflict for later, and unfortunately for you, focusing back on your nervous figure. Peaking at the look on your face, he couldn’t help the twinge of worry for your well-being. 

Noticing him stare at you with a small concern, you furrowed your brows in suspicion, that wasn’t really like him. Only then, did you notice the desperation on his face. He looked like he was choosing to either say, “Are you okay?” or “Pleaaaase!” He watched you, eyes wide with worry yet looking as if he had been begging you. Choosing your fate, you sent him a reassuring, but solemn nod, deciding to do the act he had been looking forward to for the entirety of yesterday; the day you lost that damned bet. 

You sighed defeatedly at his pouty expression, you were weak for him and he knew it.

“Alright.” He looked up at you with expecting eyes, holding back a shit-eating grin, “Alright what..?” You sighed for the 2nd time within the span of 45 seconds, “Ugh... Master.” The single word uttered out from your pretty lips had his entire body shuddering, fighting back the blush on his face, he leaned his back towards you teasingly, his ego had been very clearly stroked, “That’s right. I’m your master; so come on and get to it! Don’t make your master wait~” He added, clearly enjoying your misery. You pouted, where did the worried Kokichi go?

Turning to face the crowd that seemed to be staring at you while you flirted talked normally with Kokichi, you felt your frills shuffle with each movement you made. You closed your eyes in preparation, making a mental note never to make a bet with Kokichi, ever. “Do I have to get on my knees?” He smiled cheerfully, “It’s part of the deal~” ‘Nishishi’ing as dread washed over your face.

Everyone watched in anticipation, some with concern, but mostly the former— as you got on your knees, the skirt neatly pleating on the ground. 

Disgruntled, you uttered out a small, “If you tickle me, I will… I- “ You looked back at Kokichi, a look of, ‘Do I have to do this?’ contorting on your face as you stared at him pleadingly, dying inside when he nodded frantically like a child at a candy store.

“... S-say hee hee and prance around like a rainbow lollipop on a cloud of unicorn wishes.“ You flinched , the entire class had suddenly started howling and rushing towards you—most likely to tickle you—, but right before a giddy Angie and a determined Tenko could get their hands on you, Kokichi suddenly spoke up, stopping them in their tracks. “Hey! She’s not allowed to be touched by mutts like you, so get back!” He brutally spat, voice scratching from the force of his words. 

Kaito immediately took the opportunity to ask you out as Kokichi’s occupied with the others, not hesitating for a second. Tapping on your shoulder, a shy smile adorning Kaito’s face as he awkwardly shuffled, “Hey S/o..! Do you maybe wanna, um..” Kokichi swiftly popped out from underneath your skirt as if this was a routinely thing, standing in between you and Kaito. “What the hell-” Kaito recoiled back in shock, had he just been hiding under there?? Kokichi looked at you, before looking back at him. 

You were sure if looks could kill, Kaito would’ve been dead a year ago. “Hey. You know she’s mine, yeah?” Kokichi spoke with a dead-cold look on his face, before almost immediately contorting back into his usual mischievous smile, “... My personal maid, of course! Nishishi!” Kaito stared Kokichi down, in which Kokichi simply glared back in amusement, the same smile staying onto his face. Irking, Kaito discontentedly walked away, shortly after Kokichi had won the stare-down. 

Exhaling loudly, his smile fell off his face as well as the breath he kept in, a neutral expression replacing his grin as he stared back at you, “You know, this whole thing is getting kinda boring, let’s just leave.” He tried putting on his signature charming grin, but you could see the way his teeth clenched. It seemed Kaito asking you out had a bigger effect on him than he wanted to admit. 

Despite teasing and asking him if he was worried and/or jealous on the way to a secluded area, he persists, staying stubborn and brushing it off. “It just wasn’t as fun as I thought! Now stop nagging me and hurry uuuuup! You’re such a slowpoke.” Perking up, he suddenly remembered something, “Oh wait! That’s an order, right? So you have to obey.” Rolling your eyes, you jolted as an idea suddenly found its way to your head. 

Flashing a mischievous smirk in his direction, you left him bewildered as you started sprinting across the field. “Wh- Hey! Haha, what the fuck!?” He cackled at how stupid you looked, throwing your heels across the field somewhere as you stumbled from the length of the dress, still running to god knows where. 

His laughing suddenly halted as he witnessed the way you took a large leap and stepped on your dress, tumbling down as you did.“Stooop! You’re gonna actually hurt yourself, seriousl-! …” Kokichi suddenly fell silent as you fell on your face, only sounds of him choking back holding back his own loud laughter. But the boy could only hold back for so long, and as you raised your head from the field, you could hear him just fucking losing it. 

Turning around and glaring directly at him, you stumbled back to your feet, jogging towards one of your lost heels before hurling it directly at Kokichi’s stomach. “Take that you little shit!” Now you were the one laughing at his misery. In the end the heel didn’t do what you wanted it to, as he just kept on laughing, only now wheezing from the hilarity of the situation and for the air you knocked out of him. 

Hearing his crazy horse laughter fill the air, you couldn’t help but laugh just as loud, along with him. You jogged up to his hysterical figure, falling down next to him, your own giggles mingling in with his. He turned his head to you, pointing at your face weakly, before throwing his head back and laughing even louder. 

Eventually, the laughter calmed, both of you just bathing in the afterglow of the extreme euphoria you both had felt. Kokichi turned his head again, staring at you in thought. Noticing his eyes, you took your eyes off the sky, catching his seemingly whipped gaze, “What?” 

He smiled, “Even though you look like a maid who had just went through hell to try and escape her traumatizing slave prison life, you still look cute.” Admitting with no hesitation and way too many details, he watched in amusement as your face flushed. “And borderline sexy too. I am loving the sexy prisoner look.” He added, catching you off guard as you flushed even harder. 

He sighed lovingly, “You know, I’d gladly pay you to stay in that dress... And I’m not lying.” You scoffed and looked at him in disbelief, Kokichi frowning back, “Hey! Don’t look at me like that! You know damn well, you look hot in those tights.” He drifted his eyes lower and lower, tilting his head to get a better view- before you suddenly chopped him. 

Wincing from the hit, he started bawling, “Uwah! How meeeaan! And to do that to your master too! How could you!?” Here come the waterworks. You only grimaced, right before decreasing your face in defeat, deciding to play along, “Fine. I’m sorry then,” Sighing, “Master.” You groaned out, clearly unhappy with the title Kokichi had forced on himself. Kokichi went light-headed as soon as he heard that word come out your lips, smiling like a goof, he only gawked at you. 

Shooting your head back to him, you were concerned as to why he was suddenly quiet. Was there something wrong with him? Did he pass out? “Master?” You called him by his title, shaking his tiny figure. The expression on his face showed pure bliss, “Just kiss me already.” 

He snapped out of it for a second, eyes darting to yours. You glared at him, in which he simply glared back, a challenging smirk on his face, differing greatly from his expression from earlier, “That’s an order~” 

Blinking at the statement, you gave in to your demise, slowly leaning down to kiss his forehead lightly, a flush on your face. Pressing your lips lightly against his skin, you pulled away shortly, lingering no longer than you had to. However short it was, that alone seemed to do it for him, as you swore you saw hearts shoot out from the spot in which you pecked. 

Giggling strangely, he rested on the field, completely surrendering his body to the earth as he went limp. “Nishi… My maid loooves me!” You stayed silent at the bold remark, wanting to refute but you knew he’d just figure out your lies. 

... Even so, you refused to admit it, “You fucking wish.” Snorting, you pushed his face away from you gently, cackling as you heard his whining.

[mianmimi]

"The sequel just feels so incredibly disconnected from the first that I’m really convinced this is even the same Stephen we saw in DS." Honestly, there's a whole fucking lot to hate about DSitMoM, but somehow Prime Stephen's characterization is what pisses me off the most. Definitely not the same character that I loved so much after watching the first movie that it made me an avid comics reader. In MoM, he's just a Great Value Tony Stark and also a toxic incel weirdo for some reason?? Why???

Darling Nonny I don't even know where to begin with Stephen. I also just realized I forgot to write “not” before “really convinced.” Whoops! I just fixed it hehehe. But yeah....I'm honestly debating on which character got the worst rewrite. Because that's what it feels like. It feels like the characters were rewritten differently from their first movie selves. 

Like didn’t he move on from Christine in the first movie? They said good bye and everything. She walked away from him and rightfully so. And he ended up doing the same thing. So....yeah....that was that. But yet they decided to undo all that and have him do the same arc again only worse? Yikes. The way it was done in the first was more tasteful to be honest. At least in the first one he knew he fucked up and was hanging his head low. You could see how much he regretted how he treated her, and he accepted that they just won’t be. It was mature and beautiful. 

But MoM Stephen......

Holy fuck 

I got really bad vibes from how hungry he was for Christine. And this is shipping aside. I love Christine. I think she’s amazing. And all I wanted was for her to get away from Stephen for her own fucking wellbeing. Stephen being sad about their breakup is understandable but man they portrayed him to be this sad stalker type. He fucking brought up their past at her own wedding......my jaw dropped. Like really?!?!?! That’s major red flags and she shut him down firmly, established boundaries, and did so while being polite. All the while people are supposed to be feeling bad for Stephen. Like his hurt feelings are more important than respecting Christine and her husband. Like damn. And I definitely caught that line were America asks him if he blew it with his Christine and he replies “I guess so.” Or something like that. And I’m like...guess so? You definitely blew it. She got married! Like are you implying that you still would have pursued her despite that very critical fact? Yikes man. Yikes. And let’s not forget that Stephen pushed her away! And now he’s crying over it like he didn’t terribly hurt her and treat her with so much contempt after showing him nothing absolute kindness. 

And then him prowling around 838 Christine like she had history with him. Like sir....need I remind you that you just met this woman? Why are you all up in her space like that? And asking if Christine knew about Supreme Strange’s actions. Like dude....that’s your priority? And making Christine the absolute goal for every Stephen is just........wow. I can totally get why people think that’s so sweet. Soulmate levels even. And I would agree that it’s incredibly beautiful to love someone in every lifetime...but only if it was reciprocated! And I honestly don’t know what Stephen was even trying to do there. Was he trying to get 838 Christine because he lost his universe’s Christine? Cause then he really would the hypocrite Wanda accused him of being. 

Oh, and while I’m ranting what’s his deal with yelling at 838 Mordo. Like sir...once again...you don’t know this man!!! He’s yelling at him like they have some serious animosity going on but it’s all unearned. It just feels so incoherent and out of place. The last time we saw prime Mordo he wasn’t beating Stephen over the head with a candlestick in the dining room. Like when did that whole trying to kill each other start? Off screen? That was probably the movie we were supposed to see. But anyways 838 Mordo’s listening to his rambling like....what the fuck is he on? He even yells at him like the fuck you talking about? 

*heavy sigh* 

I just feel so bad for Stephen’s writing. So much of his stalking is dressed up as love and that’s super, super wrong and I’m not surprised a man wrote it. I swear if a woman was a cowriter she would have hopefully called that out as some creepy ass behavior. If Christine was just as into him as he was to her then it’d be fine. But clearly she’s not. And I was happy to see her marry someone else because frankly Stephen did not deserve her.