#presumably doesn’t go out to feed her or give her water

[frogaroundandfindout]

Kory finds out Mirage did nude photo shoots for Centerfold while disguised as her

[dodorimo]

something old, something new - part 2

continuation to this. Raphtav. 1.6k

Raphael actually appears here. Car sex ensues.

AO3 link

· �� ──────  ❊  ────── · ·

“Can we expect little ones soon?”

The coffee spews out of her mouth in a perfect arch. For an instant, she must’ve looked like one of those tacky, fish-like water fountains you often see in gardens.

Did Astarion wait until she took a big sip so she would make an even bigger mess? The bastard.

Tav quickly assesses the damage. Her new clothes have been spared, thankfully. The same couldn’t be said for the restaurant's table.

Their shopping spree had been a success. Somewhere along the way, Astarion convinced her she was in dire need of new jewelry, which brought up the matter of her complete lack of proper beachwear, and so on. There were almost too many bags to carry, all of them were from different brands: Hermès, Tiffany, Dior, Sephora (that last one was a little self-indulgence of hers).

“We’ve too much on our plate to worry about kids,” she said, grabbing a napkin to clean up her mess.

Raphael as a father? Hell would first freeze over.

“When you say ‘we’ do you mean ‘we both individually’ or ‘we’ as in ‘I don’t want it’?” He emphasizes his point by making quotation marks with his fingers. “With how quickly he put a ring on it, you’d think he’s plugging you full every night.”

And there goes the last sip of her coffee. Out of her mouth.

The lewd picture he conjured aside, she had to disagree that it was really that fast. Four months of dating is a perfectly reasonable amount of time for people over 30. Right? … Right?

“‘We’ as in ‘we’ have no vocation to be parents.”

“Hm. A shame.” Astarion makes a face. “Some would argue you two are too pretty for your union not to bear fruit,” he says and takes a bite off his ice cream… A bite. With his teeth. She’s pretty sure this is the first time she’s seen anyone do that.

“What’s your excuse?” she deflected. “You should’ve an army of nose-pickers by now.”

That managed to shut him up.

She seizes the opportunity to lazily scroll through her social media feed. All afternoon, she and Astarion joked about all the ways Raphael would get back on her for her (presumably) dress transgression. They had plenty of ideas: he would send her a text (signed with his initials, as he usually does), then come pick her up in his limo to give her a ‘stern talking to’. All meaningless jest, of course. With no basis in reality. None.

That's why when the notification pops up on her screen, she thinks it's her mind playing tricks on her. But the more she stares at it, the less likely it is to go away.

[17h14]  ❤︎ Million Dollar Man ❤︎ said: I’m outside - R

“Guess you're going to have to hitch a ride on your own now.” She tilts her phone so Astarion can read the message too. “Mine just arrived.”

Astarion sends her a look over his silver-rimmed sunglasses. He doesn’t seem fazed. “Oh my. Speak of the devil.”

They say their goodbyes (and in his case, good luck) and then she’s off to search for her fiancée. It doesn’t take long. In fact, it doesn’t take time at all. Parked at the front of the street and taking up most of the space is a black limousine.

Why the limousine today and not one of his many sports cars? She would’ve more luck making sense of a physics problem.

The car takes off the moment she gets in. She holds on to her seat to keep from tipping over. Gods, she forgot how fast those things were.

She remembers her first ride. The giddy smile on her face. Do you see me now, mother? It seems almost banal now.

Sitting across from her, Raphael is a sight worthy of a magazine cover. He’s dressed in a three-piece black suit today, with a burgundy tie and a golden watch on his wrist.

In other words, he’s looking every inch the filthy rich man he is.

Tav almost feels bad about her waist-high jeans and loose ponytail. Almost.

“You have coffee on your shirt,” are his first words to her.

And, just like that, all her goodwill goes out the window. She tactfully adjusts her hair so it covers the offending stain. “Hello to you too,” she mumbles.

Something is plaguing him today. His fingers drum on his thigh in a frantic staccato. Whatever he wanted to say to her, he didn’t like it at all. Thankfully, she finds out soon enough.

“I need a plus one for today’s inauguration party.”

“But I thought that was…”

“Taken care of?” He waves a dismissive hand. “So did I. Change of plans. Out of my control.” Annoyance reduced his usual flowery language to a series of short sentences. That bad, huh.

Today is her day off. He’s in big trouble.

“You’ll be thoroughly rewarded.” This is the closest he’d come to pleading with her.

The effort is good enough. She nods, a small smile playing on her lips.

Raphael lets out a sigh and it's as if the weight of the world has been lifted from his shoulders. She’s still staring at him expectantly, though. Was that really all?

“So… you didn’t come for the dress?”

For some reason, he found this hilarious. “Why? Is there something you wish to tell me, my dear?”

She doesn’t have to answer. The car slows down; they’ve arrived at their destination. His penthouse, by the looks of it. The one on the main street, to be more specific.

“Daniella will brief you on the details when you get there.” The mirth he showed earlier is gone. He’s all business now.

“You’re not staying?”

“I have other matters to attend to before the party. I’ll meet you there.” He moves to open the door.

“Wait.” She holds his wrist and looks at him in the eye, hoping her pouty lips and pleading gaze would convey her meaning.

Fortunately for her, it does.

Raphael tastes like whiskey and freshly picked cherries. The kiss starts slowly, a mere touch of lips, before evolving into something more intense, passionate. She gets lost in him, in the feeling of his body pressing against hers and his hand cupping her breast.

He pulls away suddenly. He almost seems angry at her, with his ragged breath and furrowed brow. She hears the door closing with a soft click.

“Ten minutes.”

Then he kisses her again.

Tav smiles against his lips. This is a lot more than she was going for.

Raphael parts from her just long enough to check if the privacy screen that separates the car from the driver’s seat is closed. It is.

As with most things where he was concerned, she struggled to wrap her head around his bed habits. He had all the pomp of a man who wanted to be in control, while sparing none of the effort.

But there is an appeal in the challenge, in the idea of bending him to her wishes. Just as she knows he would be doing the same to her.

With practiced ease, she pulls out his cock from his trousers and kneels in front of him. The car is big enough for her to do so without issue.

Tav knows by now just how much he enjoys a show. Almost as much as he enjoys the feeling itself. So she gives him what he wants.

She starts by teasing the sensitive skin at the base of his cock, her hand fondling his balls. He sucks in a breath. He doesn’t want to let her know how eager he is already. As if she couldn’t tell.

He's not idle, in the sense that he talks her through it. Praises her at every move, telling her how good her tongue feels on him, how pretty she looks with his cock down her throat, what a naughty little whore she is who couldn’t wait until they’re out of the public eye.

Tav wasn't completely honest with Astarion. Raphael is good at this. At telling her what to do. On most days, his voice alone is enough to get her off.

He commands her to pull up her shirt, move faster, put her little fingers between her legs. Where are the manners he showed her just now?

She kisses him and takes him whole and makes that little wet noise halfway between a kiss and a suck that he likes so much. She even gives her tongue a few taps with his cock. In a matter of minutes, he’s close to the edge.

“Get up.” Sweat runs down his temples as he struggles to keep hold of himself. “I’m finishing inside you.”

“I…it’s that time of the month.” She swears she told him.

For a frightening moment, he seems to be weighing his options, before deciding on sinking his fingers into her hair, pulling her to him. “Finish what you started.”

Gladly.

The hand at the back of her neck gives her little choice. She swallows everything he has to give, little tears pricking her eyes and, when it’s done, she sticks out her tongue for his perusal. Not a drop to be seen.

His smile is wide as he gives her cheek a playful slap. She is being dismissed.

She watches him as he fixes his clothes. His hair is disheveled in all the places her fingers touched. There’s a hint of pride in knowing she was the cause, in knowing she was the one to make a dent in his perfectly manicured facade.

It is only for the sake of her rebellious womb that she doesn’t guide his fingers to her wet cunt so he can finish what he started. Disgust be damned.

“Later then.” 

She gives him one last look before the door closes. His voice is husky when he finally answers, evoking a pet name coined long ago.

“Until later, little mouse.”

[burnorgetburned]

recent image reminded me again of something I noticed from Rebellion: how isolated Homura is.

This is her own fantasy world. It’s what she, in her deepest heart and dying moment, wants the most. Here she can make herself into the version that she wants to be: she can be Madoka’s best friend! The senior magical girl! The wise mentor figure that everyone finally listens to!

Homura can’t imagine herself being that, though.

Instead, she makes herself the transfer student - again. An outsider. The girls are already an experienced, established team by the time she even “arrives” in Mitakihara. They kindly invite this new magical girl into it. And she’s not the centerpiece of the team. She’s an extra power, useful to the other girls, but easily excluded if they feel like it.

That’s not the only time she secludes herself from them too. In the opening I can recall her doing this three times: once in that scene where it starts with Madoka and then adds the other girls, and they run around each other in dresses. She’s there standing at the end, waiting for all of them. The screen cuts away before any of them reach her in a way it doesn’t for the other girls, even though they do start to try and greet her. And then again while they’re all dancing and she’s kneeling on the ground.

Finally, there’s that long shot starting with the water and the drowned buildings, presumably from Walpurgisnacht. Mami and Sayaka are in a boat, and they smile at the “camera”. The camera rushes through them, and Kyoko turns around and smiles at the camera too. And, of course, it ends at Madoka, who reaches her hand towards the camera with a kind expression on her face.

We immediately cut to Madoka and Homura standing in an empty space, and it becomes apparent that Homura is the “camera”, not pausing to look at her friends smiling at her, but stopping to try and take Madoka’s hand. Only for Madoka to turn into dust. Because the person who is most kind to her, who again and again chooses to trust and care about her as we see in the series no matter how she acts - she’s not there anymore. She’s as good as dead. The other girls are kind, but they don’t reach out to her the same way Madoka does.

This is of course not their fault, because god knows their lives get harsh, but it doesn’t change the fact that Homura is just. Too traumatized and socially maladjusted to reach out first. Madoka gets through to her so easily because Madoka tries to see the best in her, so she gets past Homura’s awkward hairflips of anxiety that look really freaking arrogant to people who can’t read her and don’t have the motivation to try. She gets past Homura trying to use intimidation and Homura going quiet because she doesn’t know what to say, which, again, makes her look inscrutable and. just bad.

In the end of Rebellion, we see her going full throttle on the exclude herself part again. This time, consciously and intentionally. We see Mami walking to school, and Homura shattering a teacup. We see Kyoko try to share an apple with her Clara Dolls, and the apple dropping into the water, wasted. What do Mami and Kyoko use to befriend people in the series? Tea parties and sharing food. Homura has surely befriended/been befriended by those two plenty of times, since we see her achieve it with Kyoko and know immediately that she should eat the pocky given to her. So this is her, consciously, rejecting their friendship.

What hurts even more is the part with Kyoko. Why does Kyoko drop the apple? She sees the Clara Dolls waving at her, asking for one. Parts of Homura’s subconscious, asking for resources. She smiles and gives one over. Even before this, Kyoko was feeding some of Homura’s bird Familiars. When she drops the apple, though, we cut to a clear shot of Homura shaking her head while the apple floats.

The apple drops - into the water. The Clara Dolls are gone. Kyoko looks shocked. She couldn’t even keep feeding Homura’s birds. All of them fly away.

Homura’s subconscious asks for help. Homura sees help and shakes her head, rejecting it. Homura doesn’t let herself ask for help even when she desperately wants it (wanting it so desperately that her Familiars act it out even when she consciously tries to stop them). She’s already learned that asking for help doesn’t result in receiving help. After all, what has trying gotten her in other timelines? Disbelief. Anger. Confusion and hurt. Sometimes she gains allies (like in Kyoko), but most of the time even allies become unreliable. So she’s learned that she doesn’t know how to properly ask for help, and if she gets it, people will turn on her.

In the end, she finally has the power to address the root cause of their distrust. The Incubator, who primed other people to dislike her (something something “maybe she doesn’t want Madoka to contract because she’d be too powerful as a magical girl and she wants this territory :3”) and their resource shortage of the limited Grief Seeds, which made people fight by its own nature and eventually introduced the truth of Witches. But when others try to help her, she can’t accept it because she’s so primed to be afraid of it.

It’s part of the tragedy of Homura Akemi. She didn’t have the tools. She didn’t have the background to make connections without Madoka first reaching out to her in the 1st timeline. She didn’t have the social skills for convincing the other girls of hard truths of magical girl life. She could never make a support system strong enough to stop Mami from killing people in her despair (and I’d argue that even great social skills wouldn’t solve their resource shortage, so the best she could ever do is stop Mami from killing people. We see in other materials that Mami would often kill herself). She relied on Madoka for help with forging connections with other people, and when she got that help, she’d get so attached to everyone that it hurt her badly whenever they died. Whenever they learned the truth and it broke their hearts (she says explicitly that it hurt when Mami learned too much). It also must have hurt whenever she had to reset and then the other girls stopped caring about her.

The really awful part about the magical girl system is that grief - mundane, everyday emotional pain - starts to darken their Soul Gems. So when Homura makes friends and loses them, either to death or the loops, it darkens the Gem. Whenever she may try to learn social skills and inevitably fumbles, and the other girls interpret this as intentional, it also darkens the Gem. When she makes them her enemy. When she tries to drive Madoka away. When she’s isolated by the truth of everything. When Madoka Wishes to help other people - especially her. I would say that she can’t treat any loop as a practice ground because she’s too invested in Madoka, meaning that treating any one loop as disposable means treating that Madoka as disposable too, something that she obviously can’t accept. So she invests her all into every loop and loses, and it damages her even further.

On top of that, there’s a malicious immortal unending alien chucking everyone into deadly situations. There’s other magical girls who occasionally butt in (Oriko…). There’s timeline variance. There’s Walpurgisnacht. It becomes an unending tide of resource management except the resources are souls, friends, and her own emotional wellbeing. The failure state is a fate worse than death. The holding pattern is the endless loops, which does chip damage to her Soul Gem and already abysmal social skills by way of trauma anyway. She learns to keep this at bay by distancing herself. But in doing so, she does long-term damage and makes the other girls distrust her even more.

I honestly think there was no way in hell she was ever going to survive. Either she lost in the loops or she would lose afterwards. There was so, so much stacked against her. She learned all the reasonable ways to survive her loops which are absolutely the wrong things for her long-term health, but how could she think of the long term when the danger is right now? She learns to never rely on people (who by the way are fucking primed to oppose her… another post on that later) and all the wrong lessons for continuing on after the loops. When her crutches for surviving are knocked from under her, she doesn’t know what to do. She can’t freaking ask for a therapist, she’s a magical girl! She can’t rely on Kyoko and Mami when she has no evidence of what she went through! She seemed actually suicidal by the time of Rebellion, and I don’t think that it was her Witch talking. Or the needles puncturing her Soul Gem(?!?! Which more people should talk about? Holy shit).

This is why I genuinely think that both the anime ending and Rebellion’s ending are necessary for Homura’s story. A lot of people seem to think that Rebellion makes the anime ending useless, but I don’t think that at all. First, Witches are gone. This is a big one. Witches are genuinely the most isolating thing in the Incubator’s system, because the girls who know have to step on eggshells around girls who don’t know. Homura keeps this “Witches are gone” thing and only switches the Grief-collection system to using Incubators, which remove two of the many obstacles preventing the Quintet from wanting to help Homura. I doubt that Homura has the omnipresence to respond to every magical girl ever as they turn into a Witch because she is said to use her Familiars for gathering information, and her Familiars can’t be literally everywhere. That’s what Madoka’s Law of Cycles is for, and it’s something that Homura keeps. We also see that it’s possible for people (Madoka and Sayaka) to fully remember all of the timelines, and those shared experiences lead to understanding. Sympathy. Most importantly, less isolation.

If everyone regains all of their memories, could they see what Homura suffered through? Could they convince her that they can help? The resource shortage is gone. Witches are mostly gone. The Rebellion’s system is a system that allows all of them to grow. They stop being so utterly isolated. They can stop hurting each other. They can help.

[thinkin-bout-milgram]

Mahiru Shiina: Trial 2 Synthesis Theory

Hello everyone! For the “I Love You” drop, I’m just going to jump straight into a full-length theory because I have a LOT that I want to cover and it’s much more comprehensive than my initial thoughts posts usually are. This is partially because all four other admins helped me out, as well as our 6th roommate who isn’t an admin!

As always, I will be using the very fast translation done by @onigiriico, which is linked here! I’ll also be using @iaobug ‘s wonderful translation of Mahiru’s 16 step guide in This Is How To Be In Love With You, which I’ll put here. 

T/W: Suicide, stalking, kidnapping/abduction, toxic relationships, murder, hanging, drowning, malnourishment, force feeding a rat. There WILL be images so please read at your own discretion!

Alright, let’s jump into it!

Mahiru’s murder took place in Aokigahara, AKA the Sea of Trees, AKA the Suicide Forest.

This is based on an initial post by @tomoesan, which has since become unavailable. I’ll post a photo of it here, though:

It compares Mahiru’s murder location on her card from Undercover to a real place in Japan: Aokigahara. From the pictures, it’s very clear that this was an intentional move by the artists to place Mahiru’s murder somewhere actively recognizable through some google searches. I firmly believe that the forest that they move through in the MV is Aokigahara. 

That’s not all, though. From this image, you can pretty clearly see that the photo seems to be taken from inside a cave. We’ve determined this specific cave to be Ryugu Cave, or The Dragon Cave.

This article shows the exact same photo in the earlier post, citing it as being from the Ryugu Cave. 

The Ryugu Cave also contains the Seno Umi Shrine, within it. You can read a bit about it here, but I firmly believe this to be the shrine mentioned on Day 15 of This Is How To Be In Love With You; more on that later.

Furthermore, the shrine is to Toyotama-hime. In mythology, this references a goddess who falls in love with a prince at a water well. However, he breaks a promise not to spy on her, which results in him seeing her in a monstrous form. Given the lyrical translation of daisuki (which should just mean I love you repeatedly) in the chorus to “monstrously in love,” “monstrous cause I love you,” “monstrous dilemma”... I think that the writers absolutely knew what they were going for, and they were giving a nod to this specific story and the shrine, with Mahiru being the lover turned monster.

Based on all of this, and the fact that I do believe Mahiru’s lover committed suicide, I think that all signs point to Aokigahara, specifically Ryugu Cave, being the location of the murder. I’ll be using this assumption throughout the rest of my theory.

I’ll follow along with the guide, starting at Days 1-8.

I think that Mahiru portrays Days 1-8 approximately correctly.

Days 1-7 are, I think, completely correct. Mahiru meets this guy, assumes it’s fate, and does small things to try to get closer to him and get to know about him. At this point, things probably seem completely normal to him, so there wouldn’t be any reason for him to reject her jogging with him or whatever.

Day 8 is when she waits outside his work, takes him to the park and presumably confesses her love to him. This is where her first inconsistency is. 

She says that they talked the night away, but she also says that she “chooses not to believe they talked the night away” and that “it felt like no time passed at all.” She also very notably doesn’t actually say what his response was, though she implied it was positive.

I think that it was actually very short; rather than them talking the night away, he probably swiftly rejected her. This, therefore, ends Mahiru’s attempts to get him into a relationship normally. If he won’t love her the way she wants him to, she’ll find a way to make it happen, no matter what.

Mahiru sets a plan into action, starting Day 9.

This is the first page in her journal where the text switches from normal, pristine rows to slanted text. That’s a sign that something is going wrong.

She mentions that her “boyfriend” is really cute when he’s blackout drunk. I think that it’s possible she drugged him, but even if she didn’t, she used this to get some kind of information. It’s possible she brought him back to his house, getting his address, possibly even stealing keys or something like that. 

I’d theorize that, rather than going here together, she followed him to the bar. Once he was pretty drunk, it’d be a lot easier to convince him to go along with her.

Day 10 is her talking to her beautician; I think that’s all correct. The beautician simply heard about the story through Mahiru’s eyes.

Day 11 is, I think, similar to the bar; she probably followed him to the “date” location. She says it “can’t be a coincidence” their tastes are so similar and that she’s become a different person. That indicates that this isn’t actually a shared taste: he went to the location and she followed him there.

On Day 12, Mahiru abducts her lover.

Day 12 is the day when Mahiru goes to his house for the first time, but somehow, she can’t actually seem to remember anything.

While that alone is suspicious, there’s also the mirror. We can see her beautician in the mirror, so the fact that he isn’t in the mirror at all seems to imply that he isn’t within the camera’s view at all. Why is she in his entryway without him there to greet her?

The answer is that she’s uninvited. She enters his home, and she takes him. That’s what I think the shot of her jumping on the couch spreading the flowers in This Is How To Be In Love With You is:

Rather than this being her killing moment, I think that this is her going in and snatching him from his own house. I firmly believe that Mahiru took him to Aokigahara, and I think that this is when she did it.

The scene in the house with the feathers immediately follows Day 12, so it makes sense chronologically. Additionally, for Day 13 onwards, the text switches from just being slanted to being stitched together from smaller boxes; it seems like it’s mimicking a ransom note that’s patched together from magazine or book clippings. This indicates that this is when Mahiru is more actively committing a crime: in this case, kidnapping. 

Days 13-15 are Mahiru moving the body.

If we assume that Mahiru’s end destination is Ryugu Cave based on earlier research, Days 13, 14 and 15 can be interpreted as movement.

Day 13 may seem strange, given that it’s Mahiru seemingly attending a wedding. However, if you pay careful attention to her phrasing, she does not say that she actually attended. She says that she was invited, and that soon, her dreams will come true. I think it’s possible that the wedding location was closer to Aokigahara–it’s near Mt. Fuji, so I’d imagine there could be some scenic locations or something–and she’s mentally using the wedding as a justification for heading that direction. Maybe she even did attend, if it was over that way.

Day 14 is an outdoor date under the stars. She practically begged him to come along. This is her taking him into the woods. I’m not sure exactly how compliant he was being and if she literally dragged him or if he was in more of a “resisting seems like a bad idea” kind of headspace, but I believe that Day 14 is them arriving at the forest and entering. 

It’s notable that, in the scenes in I Love You, Mahiru seems to be leading her lover into the forest. Here’s a screenshot from around 1:37:

At this point, it doesn’t seem like he’s being forced. However, this ends with him groveling on the ground at 1:55.

Comparing that to the image immediately after, we understand that Mahiru isn’t seeing the situation clearly. Given that he’s in this kneeling position in both shots, I think it’s safe to say that the shots with the golden lighting are the situation through Mahiru’s eyes. 

He’s very clearly actually beaten down and miserable, but Mahiru depicts them as a cute and happy couple. In fact, at 1:20, the lyrics support this interpretation:

This too-perfect image of her relationship is captioned with “I actually believed that.” It’s telling us, the audience, that while she actually, genuinely believed that these fantasy segments were reality, we, perhaps, should not do the same. These fantasy segments aren’t real.

Mahiru has already proven her capability of being an unreliable narrator in the past, concealing a lot of information within the text of her 16 Day Guide. I don’t want to completely discount these fantasies, but I’m trusting the side by side comparisons it gives us that they are NOT, in any way shape or form, what she portrays them as. I don’t want to take any of it at face value.

Anyways, Day 15 is the end destination of their journey: the arrival at Ryugu Cave. This is the shrine that she mentions. 

As stated earlier, Ryugu Cave contains a shrine. Though the cave isn’t available to tourists, that just increases the chances that Mahiru could get away with imprisoning her captive there without being spotted by the patrols that go through.

For reference, this cave is very deep: 96 m, or approximately 315 ft. It would be pretty hard for him to escape once they’re there, which resounds with her wish: they’ll stay like that until the end of time, and no one will stand in her way.

Day 16 is… a snapping point.

Day 16 is when we see Mahiru prepare her lovely boyfriend a wonderful meal of all his favorites. I think that this is when the 2:13/2:14 fantasy split happens:

While she sees herself giving him cake pleasantly, in reality, she seems to be… force feeding him a rat?? 

I know some people think that the cake is a metaphor for toxicity, and that because he feeds it to her first in the video, it means that the relationship is mutually toxic. From what I’ve seen, this theory completely disregards both the rat aspect and the fantasy filter over the cake scene. I think it’s far more likely that him feeding her cake was Mahiru idealizing the real events. Maybe she ate the rats, too, and she liked to think he’d feed her, too. It’s them eating together; if the cake can be a rat, him feeding it to her can be a similarly significant misperception. 

In any case, given that this is the last day in the guide, I think that this is the end of the line for him. He can’t take being her captive anymore, and sometime when she’s not away, he commits suicide.

I’m not entirely sure how. Obviously, we see him hanging at several points in the video, most prominently at the end:

But we can also see that he appears to be soaked with water at the very beginning.

There are lakes within Ryugu Cave. They’d also likely be cold enough to give him some form of hypothermia, explaining the blue tint to his skin in the second of the two images (he seems to have dried off by the second). Because of this, I’m somewhat inclined to lean towards drowning because it seems like it would have been more accessible to him. In that case, though, I’m not sure how he ends up hanging. I don’t feel like Mahiru would put him there; it feels much more likely to me that she would jump into the lake with him so that they could be together forever or something. 

So, I’m not sure whether he hangs himself or drowns himself, but the gist is, he ends up dead. That’s what Mahiru blames herself for.

VOTE: GUILTY

I know that she’s currently leaning innocent and many people feel strongly about it, but please hear me out here.

In Mahiru’s audio drama, she very clearly does not grasp the gravity of what she did. If she really did kidnap him, bring him to the suicide forest and force feed him rats… that is NOT loving someone “normally,” as she’s so insistent that she did.

Her current perception is that when she loves someone normally, it’s wrong. That’s what she’s said about her guilty verdict. However, if we switch gears and vote her innocent, what will that tell her? 

I think it would tell her that her love is okay–and, to the delusional Mahiru, that means saying that all of what she did is okay. If she believes this is loving someone normally, then I’d rather tell her not to love anyone like this again. It’s going to be hard for her to accept, and I recognize we might lose her between trials, but I think telling her that this is okay is even worse.

I do meta vote, but I do it in the context of trying to secure as many viable innocent votes for the third trial as possible. I think that, if we vote Mahiru innocent, she’ll go back to her fully delusional self. I think guilty is the only way to make the message stick, and the message has to stick if she has a chance at getting an innocent verdict in the end. I really urge you to consider it, because I think that voting her innocent will be a huge mistake on the fanbase’s part (which is the same exact way I felt about the Kotoko vote in Trial 1).

[atsadi-shenanigans]

Feeding Alligators 29 - Knives Out

I forgot to cross post to tumblr again! Crap in a hat.

You deal with Kahga.

On AO3.

It takes about forty minutes, you guess. You let Gale talk to the foppish hat man. Wander around and find an elevator and a rabid squirrel. It makes the mistake of trying to bite Lae’zel. It will never make another mistake again.

And then, below, you spot Bird Lady emerge from the cavern. She searches, finally notices y’all up there, and nods just once.

No one stops you from going into the druid cave. There’s no yelling as you trundle down the stairs. Water drips from the ceiling, and somewhere, a stream gurgles. There’s a wolf and three other druids in there with Kahga: Rath, a tall man and woman, and a short guy. No other bystanders, no possible backup for either side.

Fuck mcfuckity fuck.

You can’t stop the urge to gulp down air. Your hands rapidly go numb and awkward, your fingers little better than dead sausages hanging at your side. Gale is tense beside you, knuckles white as he grips his staff. Shadowheart unbuckles the first clip of the two that hold her mace to her back. Lae’zel is pure, coiled violence. And Astarion isn’t walking so much as slinking down at the tail end of the group.

You pull back 1. To be out of the way and 2. To get that stupid letter from Astarion. You almost drop it, and he gives your shaking hands a look.

It’s Kahga, predictably, who notices y’all first. She calls out something, but then y’all are on the main floor and you split off to the other man, Rath. While Gale talks to Kahga—pulling her attention from you for a crucial few seconds—you wordlessly hand the letter over. Watch Rath’s eyes dart back and forth, his dark brows furrowing.

“Kahga shadow druid,” you say. “Shadow druid talk no Halsin. Here no Halsin.”

Rath looks at you, and he doesn’t believe you. Or he doesn’t want to believe you. You’ve seen that expression before, many times. It never ends well.

Perhaps you’ll get lucky. Perhaps Kahga ain’t so far gone she can’t be brought back from that ledge.

Rath’s words to her are full of disbelief. Pain. You have to close your eyes and turn your face away from your crew.

Kahga snaps back full of defensiveness and venom. As you knew she would. Other voices chime in. Rath takes a few steps towards her, palms out, pleading. Yet the tendons in his arms are tight. Man is angry.

And that seems to set Kahga back. Her face is open, eyes searching.

Which is when the rats you hadn’t been paying attention to explode in golden light and emerge as three, short druids. And when Kahga calls one “Olodan,” you surmise they’re all shadow druids and you know exactly how this is going to go.

Because the old lady at the front is the ringleader (Olodan, presumably). And Kahga will never turn when her leader is here. She can’t. It’s been wired too deep into her by now, and though her face pinches in worry and what you suspect is grief, when the old lady reaches for the bow on her back, Kahga lifts her staff.

Goddamnit. God-fucking-damnit.

The violence is swift and brutal. It’s shocking how quickly one shoots the other, one dives in and clubs at another. Shouts and screams. The wolf darts in and grabs a former rat by the throat.

Wolves kill by crushing the windpipe.

Then the spells start flying and you duck behind a stone table. A shout and a body thuds overhead, drops down almost on top of you. It’s one of the rat fucker druids. Little shit shakes his head and spots you. Lifts a glowing hand.

You run.

Some sort of zap singes less than an inch from your ear. You dive behind a stone pillar and pull in your feet and hope you don’t get shot in the ass. More screams. Another druid erupts into golden light and then the biggest fucking badger you’ve ever seen rips into the rat fuck trying to shoot you.

Leaving two targets.

Olodan perches on a stone, firing ominously glowing arrows at Shadowheart and Gale, both ducking behind some kind of forcefield one of them threw up. Lae’zel hacks at a mess of vines holding her, and the old bitch turns, draws a different arrow, and sets the fucking vines on fire.

Shadowheart reacts. Glowing hands and reverberating voice and a torrent of rain dumps from nowhere. The fire clawing towards Lae’zel hisses in fury and blows into steam, but her move leaves Shadowheart exposed.

The bitch was waiting. The arrow is sickly green. It hits Shadowheart right in the armpit as her arms come down. Right in the gap of her armor. Punches into her chest up to the fletching and oh god, please no, please no—

Gale shouts. The old bitch takes aim again—

Flash of silver. Two blades whirl. The first catches the string of the bow—snaps it—and slices into her face. The second whips around Olodan’s throat and wrenches back hard enough it lifts her feet clean off the ground. Astarion nearly severs her head from her body, her neck gaping and gushing blood.

Leaving Kahga. The bitch herself. She squares off against Rath, the wolf, and one of the other druids. But in a blink, she launches something at the wolf and the druid, and both go down in a spray of some kind of mist.

The cloud wafts closer, dissipating as it roils. It’s still enough to make your face burn and your sinuses crackle.

You throw a sleeve over your mouth and nose. Rath shouts, Kahga shouts back. He tries to duck around her. Almost trips her with his staff, but she dances back.

And you see it.

She’s turned away from you. Focused on Rath. The both of them stand close to the edge of a chasm, where the ground plunges what sounds like a good distance to the water below.

She’s open. A vulnerability.

Weakness.

You’re moving before you can think. Tired and clumsy, hands numb and tingling, breath clawing your throat. Close the distance. She can’t turn. Can’t see you. If she just keeps—

Rath takes a hit. Staggers back. Her head lifts to scan the fight. She catches your movement. Eyes widen. Then tighten as she snarls.

You’re on her.

A swing to her left collarbone. She spins away.

You snap the staff up, try to jab at her.

Her own staff cracks against yours. The thing jumps. Your stupid meat paws are absolutely useless and the thing nearly goes flying. You scramble for it, brain screaming to grab it, grab it, losing track of everything else. Then her voice goes all echo-y and green glows out of the corner of your eye.

You snag your staff again.

No time now. No thinking or tactics. All instinct.

You charge.

You’re a bigger girl. Tall, too. Out of shape, weak, fat, and people have called you all these things and worse.

But all that weight? It’s mass. And when you move mass at speed?

You crash into her. All her fancy footwork, her careful staff tricks, her magic. All of it gets knocked stupid and flailing like a quarterback mowed down by an enemy linebacker.

She was right on that ledge. This sends her flying. Her hand clutches your staff even as you dig in your heels to keep yourself from going over, too. She catches herself. Dangles on the lip, toes scrabbling to keep an inch of purchase, but she’s off balance and only your staff keeps her.

She looks at you in that split second. No hatred or sneering. No disgust or fantasy fucking racism or devils or thieves. Just a woman with green eyes. Green eyes wide and shining with unspent tears, her mouth open but silent.

Scared.

Her weight hits the staff. You brace it without thinking. But.

But.

No thought. No judgment. Just the clear solution, the path to victory. You don’t feel anything in that moment but cold certainty.

You let go.

A scuffle and she drops. Too fast to scream. Too fast to do anything but fall. Fall for a long moment that seems to stretch as something nasty inside you shivers, something almost like relief because it wasn’t you, not you, they can’t hurt you if you hurt them first. It’s righteous.

Then the thud. The sound of meat splitting over rocks.

“Kahga,” Rath says, and it’s a plea. For salvation or repentance, you don’t know.

The grove moves around you as you stumble back. Gale and the tall druid swoop in to Shadowheart. The arrow sticking out of her is obscene, a violation of her flesh.

Your heel hits something. You trip, but catch yourself before you can fall. Glance down and spot the face. One of the Halsin supporters, the woman who turned into the giant badger and saved your life. Her face and throat are a wet, bloody mess of pink gristle.

“Oh,” you say.

You brought this. You and your letter and your meddling.

You can’t speak to anyone. Can’t help Shadowheart, can’t reassure or even fucking apologize to Rath and you’re not sure he would even want to look at you.

You should go. You should just…get out of this. Useless thing. Vicious thing. Get out of here, you stupid girl! Can’t do anything right. Always ruin everything, always make everyone else suffer.

Yeah. You’ll just…there’s the stairs. You clamber up practically on all fours. No one even notices you leave—too busy trying to help or heal or unfuck this mess.

Except for one.

Previous - Index - Next Chapter

[badnikbreaker]

@synnrrgy : “  i’m broken.  and i don’t need anyone to try to feed me white lies about it.  something inside me is broken and it isn’t just going to be put back like it was.  ” eyes once vibrant and riddled with anger, now calmed and simmering with the morning's heat.  another set of words he had to waste, with someone who wasn't-- who he needed to care for. instead of bitter and acidic, the tone was exhaustion ; dryly spoken, as if there wasn't any moisture to draw from. 

“  . . . but im okay with that.  ” the mammal would fall to his knees, a pained smile, though crooked, plastered the mammal's features. those hydro coils once out and swirling around violently at the pink hedgehog now ceased entirely. instead, the coils did expand, like bubbles. spreading far enough to hover over the body of the kid. once big enough, it would swallow them whole, abducting the body and presumably entering a state of homeostasis.     /     accepting.

Broken.  Amy’s teeth grit.  I’m broken, like that’s an excuse, like that’s the end.  The kit hides away, the kit GIVES UP, and Amy doesn’t stop forcing forward — doesn’t stop pushing through the water, not when it strikes out, leaves thin cuts along her cheeks and arms.  Amy doesn’t stop when she reaches the bubble he’s hiding within — she slams her fists against the water, hard.  When it doesn’t give, she takes out the hammer.

“You’re broken,” she mutters, gripping hard.  Louder, so he can hear, “You’re broken!  So what?!  SO IS EVERYBODY ELSE!”

I’m broken, like that’s an excuse instead of the end.  KIT WAS KIDNAPPED!  JOIN THE CLUB!  KIT’S DIED!  SO WHAT?  SO HAS SONIC, TAILS, AMY.  KIT HAS BEEN SHATTERED IN A WAY THAT WON’T EVER HEAL ALL THE WAY, WHERE A GAPING HOLE AND A SCAR IS THE BEST CASE SCENARIO!  SO HAS EVERY FRIEND AMY’S EVER MADE!

“I’m broken!” she shouts as her hammer swings, hard, and hits harder; the water braces and then gives, unable to maintain his shield without its out surface tension holding steady.  Kit’s there, trying to give up, trying to stop.  “I’M BROKEN IN A WAY THAT’S NEVER GETTING FIXED!  I’VE LOST PARTS OF MYSELF THAT I’M NEVER GETTING BACK!”  Kit’s there, convinced that because he’s broken, he gets to stop.  “AND I’M STILL ALIVE!”

What Kit has experienced is horrible.  Is the stuff of nightmares.  But what TAILS has experienced is horrible, too.  What Whisper’s gone through.  What Knuckles has lived through.  WHAT AMY HAS BARELY SURVIVED AND NOT - SURVIVED!  A loving heart shattering and breaking under thousands of deaths because that was the only way they could show the love they felt so clearly.  The only way they could protect everyone, like they always wanted, always needed.  Amy is broken and sick and bad, Amy is a godsdamn murderer.  And Amy is still here, carving out a life worth living.  They’re still here, crying a lot but laughing even more.

KITSUNAMI IS SO STRONG.  Amy feels tears dripping down their cheeks.  KIT IS SO STRONG, AND IT MAKES HER SO FUCKING ANGRY WHEN HE GIVES UP INSTEAD OF FIGHTING FOR THE LIFE HE’S EARNED.

“So you’re broken!  So am I!  It’s not fair that we got broken, it’s not fair people hurt us, but WE’RE STILL ALIVE!”  She moves closers, not afraid, just angry, just loving, just SICK AND TIRED OF DEATH AND OF GIVING UP.  “You’re still alive!  Just because you’re broken doesn’t mean there’s not a life out there for you, that you can’t MAKE A LIFE!”

Crying a lot, but laughing even more.

“I’ll help you make a life.  I know how to go through hell and claw something good out of the wreckage.  But you don’t get to act like you’re the only person who’s WRECKED.”

[oreoambitions]

This, Kara has to remind herself, was her own idea. Not only that, it was a good idea. Lena is the top of the class: ready with every answer, no hesitation, no fumbling, no second guessing. Kara is… not. Kara is falling asleep on her notes every night, on time to class only barely by the skin of her teeth, and wishing she’d decided to pursue literally anything but a law degree. Journalism, maybe. Instagram cake decorating, perhaps. Anything but this. It’s not that she doesn’t have the interest, it’s just that, Rao, she never seems to have enough time and somehow everyone else does and she just can’t work out how she’s supposed to keep up with it all.

So James has done her a favor and introduced her to the youngest Luthor, and Kara is ostensibly doing Lena a favor because James has suggested that Lena struggles with both friendship and remembering to feed herself, but there is a problem. There is a problem because, shoulder to shoulder on their blanket in the sun, surrounded by crusty breads and cheeses and fruits and little candied walnuts, Kara is realizing that she’s never actually seen Lena outside of class, which means that she’s never seen Lena without a face mask on. And Lena, it turns out…

“You keep looking at my mouth,” Lena observes.

It’s almost a comical observation, because she doesn’t look up from her book as she makes it. Presumably she is nevertheless aware of the shade Kara has immediately flushed, all the way up to the tips of her ears. Kara splutters and then, to give herself a retroactive excuse for the spluttering, she gulps down rather more sparkling water than one probably should in a single go and splutters again.

“Sorry,” she croaks.

“Wasn’t really looking for an apology,” Lena replies, one eyebrow delicately arched. “An explanation, maybe.” And then the textbook closes with a snap that feels to Kara like a punctuation mark, and suddenly those green eyes are on her and she’s forgotten how to breathe, let alone how to regurgitate the first thing about Constitutional Law.

“Your lip is pierced,” Kara blurts out.

Lena smirks. “Yes.”

 “And I- And it’s- I just keep noticing it.”

The textbook is on the blanket now and Lena has turned all of her attention on Kara, who has - rather against her will - turned all of her attention on Lena’s lip ring. She should ask some kind of very boring question. Did it hurt to get it pierced? What was the healing process like? Oh, I’ve just been considering that kind of piercing myself, so I’d love to know more-

Kara licks her own lip instead, and Lena’s smirk deepens.

“You wanna suck on it?”

“Hmm?” Kara replies, feeling stupid, sounding stupid, willing her eyes back up to Lena’s like an adult, like a goddamn law student, and then she registers what Lena’s just said and she flushes that deep shade of red again. “Sorry?”

“Really, Kara, you seem awfully distracted. James tells me you’re a model student but sometimes you just can’t bring yourself to focus-”

“James is talking about my wikipedia forays-”

“- so I propose we scratch the itch, shall we? Satisfy your curiosity and then we can get back to work with clear minds. What do you think?”

Lena is somehow closer than before, and Kara’s capacity for rational thought is lost somewhere beneath the roar that is suddenly filling her ears. She halfway lifts one hand almost without meaning to.

“If I-” She swallows, hard, and again forces her eyes to meet Lena’s. “If I did want to, uhmm, you know, I’d- I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable?”

“Do I look uncomfortable to you?”

Kara doesn’t know. She doesn’t know because Lena has closed to an it’s-awkward-if-my-eyes-are-open-now distance and she’s tugging Kara’s glasses gently off of her face and Kara is close enough to feel Lena’s lip ring brush against her own bottom lip and - fuck. Every hair on her body is standing up; she's already out of breath. Her halfway lifted hand finds a resting place on the back of Lena’s neck as she leans in.

Any lingering concerns that this is somehow a violation of some kind of code of conduct disappear. Lena is warm and close, one hand tangled deep in Kara’s hair, the other presumably in possession of the glasses Kara has already utterly forgotten about. Kara kisses slow and gentle, lingering until Lena nips at her and she gasps softly into her mouth. That’s Kara's move thank you, but she’s suddenly aware again of the lip ring and afraid Lena might get hurt, and then Lena is licking into her and it’s forgotten again because, hello, Lena’s lip is not the only piercing at play here.

Kara is just slipping her other hand up Lena’s back when Lena pulls away with a satisfied hum to drop a quick peck on Kara’s cheek.

“Excellent,” she says, slipping out of Kara’s arms to retrieve her textbook. “Curiosity satisfied?”

It takes Kara several stunned seconds to answer. “No,” she chokes out, her own eyebrows raised, wondering idly where in Rao’s name her glasses have gotten to.

Lena drops them in her lap. “Good,” she says brightly. “Then when we get through this case maybe we can have another - what did you call it? - wikipedia foray.”

Kara doesn’t think she’s ever been in such a hurry she’s tried to put her glasses on upside down before but, well, there’s a first time for everything.

I'm going to write a ficlet that is *so* thirsty and self indulgent

[ajaxeology]

ah- sorry for messing things up, I mean to send the request on anon :‘D

May I have kaeya + 63 if you don’t mind??

Remember to drink water too!!

- tired

Word Count: 0.5k

Pairing(s): Kaeya x gn!reader

Genre: fluff

c/w: kissing + suggestive (it's more suggestive than my 2 other kissing prompts fics, but still sfw!!)

note: HELLO TIRED I think this is the first time that you've sent in a request for me (not that my requests are open all the time but still!!). Thank you for sending in a request, I'm very happy to be able to write for you hehe. I hope you like this and that it feeds your recent fat Kaeya phase well

Kissing Prompts List

Sitting at the tables on the ground floor, you presume that Lisa has returned when you hear the doors creak open. The heavy thuds on the wooden floors of the library instead of the usual light clicks on it tell you otherwise. Without taking your eyes off the papers sprawled on the table, you address the said individual. 

“Kaeya, what are you doing here?”

“Oh, just visiting my darling of course.” 

You look up, seeing him stride towards you. He rests his hand on the ear of the chair you’re sitting on, slightly leaning down towards you.

There’s a flutter in your chest, but you only give Kaeya the satisfaction of hearing your laugh. “Don’t you have things to do? I’m sure the Acting Grand Master gave you enough to do till the end of the day.”

Eyes back onto the papers and pen in hand again, you start scribbling even as he shadows over you. 

Kaeya drags a chair right behind you, wood scratching against the wood. The rough noise that echoes does not even warrant a lift of your head.

“Don’t do that when Lisa’s around. She might punish you for scratching her polished floor and creating noise in her silent sanctuary.”

“You wound me, thinking that I’d do such things in front of Lisa.”

A laugh bubbles up your throat, but you purse your lips to hold it back. Only a stifle escapes. 

Time to turn up the gears. 

Still sitting in a chair behind you, Kaeya circles his arms around your chair and your torso. Your breath hitches, feather pen in your hand stopping its rustling for a moment. Mind a little giddy, you manage to command your hand to continue moving. 

Amused, Kaeya tightens his hold around you and rests his chin on your neck. Your expression is obscured, but there’s wavering in the previously confident, flowy strokes of your pen. 

A gentle puff of warm air tickles the shell of your ear. Light pecks pepper the sides of your neck. As Kaeya moves, the tingling ghosts of lingering kisses cling onto the skin at the back of your neck. 

It’s an understatement to say that your head is spinning. Pen dropped, toes curled in your shoe, warmed up face and ears despite the cold weather. Your mind is trapped in a whirlwind set up by your lover.

“Kae- Kaeya… I need to finish this by the end of today…”

All he does is hum and continue running his lips all over your neck.

You attempt to pry his hands off you, but your fingers are weakened when he nibbles the side of your neck. It doesn’t help that his blue hair tickles your cheek, making you squirm in your seat.

It’s only when you jump out of your seat, you break out of the iron grip of his arms. You pout at him and his shit-eating smirk. In this war of kisses and affection, you’re not going to lose. 

Swooping in for the kill, you press your lips against his and wrap your arms around him. Melting into the kiss, your surroundings become disregarded. Until there’s a sigh that you know isn’t Kaeya’s reaches your ears. 

“My little cute assistant and their Calvary Captain lover making out in the library… How scandalous… What shall I do?” Lisa places her hand on her cheek with dramatic exasperation. 

You meet Kaeya’s eyes to find the same apprehension in his gaze, except that he wears a sheepish grin. He’s totally taking responsibility for this.

[taechaos]

No More

from Textbook Love drabble series

pairing: bully!Jungkook x nerdy!fem!Reader

genre: dark romance, college au

synopsis: Perhaps love isn’t all you need to be with Jungkook. Maybe it's a sign you and him weren't meant to be.

warnings: fluff, daddy kink, public sex, degredation, mild angst

word count: 6.7k

a/n: dedicated to a good old gemini, known as pretzel anon. happy birthday! this was shit! 💞 can someone let me know if i made a stupid mistake i was really high while writing this lol

If every couple goes at their own pace, how does one know if the relationship is rushed or a slow burn? What is considered a date, and how many do you have to go on to stop calling it a date? Maybe there’s a book called Dating for Dummies.

Jungkook has taken you out once: a fast food meal on the curb across your campus. Romance is subjective, so you thought it to be very romantic when he fed you a french fry under the streetlights while you were too stuffed to finish your food. “I paid for it,” he’d said, “so you have to eat it all.”

“I’ll eat anything from your hand,” you’d replied bashfully. He got a bit awkward after that, and you regretted saying it until he began feeding you and even holding your drink to your mouth. It was a successful first date, but you wanted it to last longer; feel your heartbeat out of rhythm with every smile he threw at you until the sun came up. Unfortunately for you, he walked you to your dorm a little after dinner.

Luckily for you, you know that wasn’t your first and last date. You’re going to ask him out for the second one because it’s a beautiful day outside and you’ve studied all morning for your finals to clear up your schedule for Jungkook. A walk in the park sounds nice, then a picnic, maybe he’ll even hold your hand! Is it too soon for another date though? It’s only been less than a day… 

You’re wearing your favorite outfit for the occasion: a pale blue floral dress that has a rectangular collar on the chest—without cleavage, God forbid—and sandal heels to match. You even styled your hair, and hopefully dressing to impress works; you don’t want him to say no. The current issue is finding Jungkook, and you don’t want to be that person, but you’re avoiding calling him in case you bust him with another girl by searching instead. It makes you guilty for having trust issues, but infidelity has its impacts.

Regardless of your internal concerns, you’re happily humming as you skip on the sidewalk, checking every corner for a certain someone. So far no such luck, and if he isn’t in his dorm, and if he doesn’t go off campus on Sundays, where could he be? In someone else’s dorm…?

“Stop,” you scold yourself with a roll of your eyes and continue your hunt. Next location: the back of the building. The front is cleared out, so is the dorm; what’s happening in the most secretive area? “God,” you sigh. Is this how your thinking process has always been? You hope it is.

The beat in your steps has gone missing when you’re rounding the exterior of the building because of your reluctance. You’re contemplating calling him until you see the back of a man with a girl in front of him by the benches, presumably kissing from the smacking noises. You clench your phone in your dress pocket as you watch them, hesitant to find out who the guy is.

“Jun–” Your voice goes quiet when you see the tattoo of a dragon on his shoulder, peeking out from his black loose tank top. It’s not Jungkook’s tattoo. You bite your lip and ignore the relief in your tight muscles; he’s dating you now, that’s what he said. It’s different, so there’s no point in worrying about his loyalty. 

You shake your hands off and walk faster to the taboo spot. There’s no point in worrying, there isn’t, not when he told you he would make it up to you. There’s no reason for your heart to race from expecting the worst when you make the final turn.

A shaky breath leaves you and a small smile follows when you see him smoking with his friends by the back exit. There are four people with him, Taehyung included, who is sharing a cigarette with him. He notices you first because he’s facing you whereas Jungkook is facing the clear forest across. He waves you over with a wide grin, his eyes lighting up.

“I see a pretty girl at 9 o’clock,” Taehyung says and Jungkook turns his head, the rest following his lead. You take tiny strides while approaching them and bite down on a shy smile.

“Hi,” you greet in a small voice. Your eyes immediately lock with Jungkook’s, who looks baffled.

“Hey yourself,” Taehyung greets back. “Care to share?” He holds a burning cigarette out to you with a slight bow, as if offering you a rose.

“She doesn’t smoke,” Jungkook answers for you without looking away. Is he displeased?

“Have you ever tried it?” he persists before inhaling the stick and blowing it in your face. You cough and hold a fist to your mouth, shaking your head. Jungkook slaps the back of his head before taking the cigarette from him and putting it out on the wall he’s leaning against. “You owe me a whole pack now.”

“Care to introduce us?” a guy you don’t know asks curiously. 

“Oh, right–”

Jungkook cuts him off before putting names onto the three strangers’ faces, Namjoon being the one who asked for the introduction, and when he comes to you, he says, “Meet… my girlfriend.”

“Thought you said she was a lousy nerd, Taehyung,” Yoongi comments before chugging from his flask. “Doesn’t look like it to me.” Taehyung chuckles uncomfortably before rubbing the nape of his neck as you tilt your head at him, the glint in your eyes never fading at Jungkook’s words.

“I didn’t get a close look at her before, didn’t know she was a real beauty,” he recovers with a flirt. Another slap on the back of his head. 

“It’s nice to meet you,” Seokjin diverts the topic. He appears very nice and seems to be the only one not smoking. His friendly smile puts you at ease and you politely tell him, “The pleasure is all mine.” Good first impression on all of Jungkook’s friends: check.

Your boyfriend ignores the interaction and stares at you until you gaze at him as well. “What are you doing here?” You can’t read his expression.

“I wanted to ask you…” you play with your fingers nervously, “if you wanted to go to the park with me?”

Jungkook quirks a brow as Namjoon and Seokjin wiggle their brows, Taehyung frowns, and Yoongi smirks. Quite brave of you to ask him out in front of his smoker friends, and it’s impressive that you play into such a role of textbook love: only caring about what your crush thinks. When Jungkook peeks to see their reactions, more or less weighing their judgement, he’s satisfied when he realizes none of them give a flying fuck about him being with a girl next door; someone outside of his type of rather than a free escort, really. 

He doesn’t care about what they think when he smiles down at you and says, “Let’s go.” You bounce on your heels when he swings his arm over your shoulder and walks away from the scene. The unsteady heartbeat is back for the same reason as last time, but you’re waiting to request something else.

The park near the university is peaceful with groups of friends hanging out; couples sitting on benches; the sun shining down on the trees and grass as you aim for the ice cream stand. You try to muster up the courage to ask him first, but you’re feeling courageous as you pull away from his arm and instead latch onto his hand and intertwine your fingers. You glance at him with a blush to see his reaction, but he doesn’t look at you and only squeezes your hand nonchalantly. His grip is tighter than yours. Maybe it’s from the heat, but his cheeks are tinted in a light pink shade. 

You stumble on your heels when you stare at him for too long, but you recover from a fall last second. He holds onto you anyway, furrowing his brows at your shoes. “High heels? Are you trying to reach my height?”

“You like them,” you giggle and continue your struts more carefully. When he frowns, you worry, “Do I not look good in them?” 

“Why would I like them if you can’t walk in them? You look pretty in flats too.” 

After a whole afternoon of eating ice cream, blushing at anything nice Jungkook said, listening to his music while sitting under the sun, the evening has come. Throughout the day, you were dreading the end of it because every second with him is so enjoyable. The warmth of his hand when you play with his fingers is a feeling you never want to forget, and you didn’t notice the little smile on his face when you were lying on his chest as he watched you do the most endearing and innocent thing one could think of. 

“So precious,” he’d thought. It makes the argument from yesterday feel all the more terrifying when he remembers how close he had gotten to losing this moment. It’s nothing he’s ever experienced or even seen before; plain jackpot.

You’re off the school grounds as you walk on the streets passing cafés with Jungkook, hands locked and feeling perfect. You wonder if he has ever done this with anyone before, but then he’s never been in a relationship. Who are the people that comment in his Instagram posts then? A question strikes you, and you admire his side profile as you ask, “You don’t like it when people call you– Ah!” Your balance wavers as you stumble again, this time falling on your knees after your ankle bends. With the pain tolerance of a baby’s, your eyes instantly water and you let go of his hand as you hold onto your ankle. It’s sprained.

“Shit, are you okay?” He crouches down and picks you up bridal style before sitting you down on a nearby chair. The café’s lights allow him to see the scrape on your knee and the bump on your ankle. “Hey, hey, don’t cry now,” he rubs your injury soothingly as he cringes at your tears. He doesn’t know how to comfort you as you whimper and sniffle. 

“Damn these heels,” you cry quietly. 

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise at your wording. “This is my second time hearing you swear. Swearing apparently helps with pain though. Say ‘fuck’.”

A chuckle leaves your mouth, but you decide to try it anyway; the throbbing muscle hurts too much. “F-Fuck.”

“Fuck these heels,” he encourages.

“Fuck these fucking heels,” you level. Maybe the theory is correct, because it feels slightly better when he laughs at your rare vulgarity. A minute passes with you trying to keep your tears at bay while he lightly massages your wound.

When he notices you calm down, he asks, “I don’t like it when people call me…?”

You sniffle and rub your eyes before saying a few seconds later, “Daddy.”

He blinks, stares at you, and his heart skips a beat. With your soft pout and red nose, you look so little to him. “... Yes?”

“Huh?”

“Oh,” he smoothly snaps out of his shock, “I don’t have that kink… Um, say it again?”

“Daddy?” 

It sounds different hearing it from you. Without the drawn out whine or the eggplant emoji next to it, and with your voice, it actually sounds cute. “What does that word mean to you?” he shifts the conversation with a subtle blush.

“I don’t know. You call a fatherly figure daddy, right? A man who takes care of you. People say it during sex too. You’re being a daddy right now.”

“Stop,” he warns lowly, “we’re in public.” He stands up from his kneeling position and picks you up in his arms again. “Have you ever called anyone that?” 

You clasp your hands behind his neck as he walks with ease, as if he isn’t carrying anyone in the first place. “No. My dad walked out on my mom when I was little, and I haven’t met anyone who treats me like you do.”

“Wait, you… think of me as your… daddy?” His eyes are wide and he’s gaping at the path in front of him with knitted brows. He looks so intimidating when you scrutinize his features, but you know he’s just flustered. You timidly nod against his shoulders. “Christ. Why?”

Your answer isn’t immediate because you don’t want to come off as too strong, but he’s impatient as he squeezes your waist. “I know you don’t want people to call you that,” you whisper understandingly, “but you’re so mean to others, and you hurt anyone who upsets you.” He rolls his tongue around his cheek uncomfortably. “Whether it be with words or actions. But you’re so sweet to me… You can be really rude, but you care a lot too. You don’t even smoke around me,” you laugh lightheartedly. 

“I mean, you are a baby. You make it difficult to not treat you like one,” he jokes with a hint of truth. You snuggle into his neck with a lopsided grin and your breath fans his tan skin. “I don’t like being an asshole to you, but I’m not exactly a nice person either.”

“You’re carrying me to my dorm,” you point out as a counter.

“I’m only nice to you; somewhat. And… I don’t like being called daddy by horny women, or men for that matter. I’ve never liked it, so I’m not exactly sure why I’m hard right now.” You tense against him. “Something about your sweet, innocent voice calling me daddy is really fucking hot.” He sighs to collect his thoughts; he can’t wait until he’s in your room. It would just be torture. “Did you get on birth control, baby?” He keeps his volume low in case of someone eavesdropping.

“Yes,” you mumble and grow nervous at what he’s thinking.

“Good girl,” he exhales and swiftly enters an empty alley between two restaurants. “Quite the slut too, telling me all this in a crowd.”

“I’m sorry,” you breathe as he presses you against the wall and has you wrapping your legs around his waist. He’s so thoughtful, carrying you even when he’s shaming you so you don’t put pressure on your injured foot. The shadows casting from the walls in the narrow space limits your vision, but you don’t need to see anything when he’s doing all the work by rendering you immobile from the press of his hips.

“Good choice with the dress,” he says while pulling out his belt and releasing the buckle. You hold onto him tightly without the security of his hands. He pushes his jeans down and has you towering over him by adjusting your position from the back of your thighs. Your breathing is quick and shallow from the anxious anticipation of the raw stretch, but he’s so nice to you today: he shoves your panties to the side and rubs your folds to collect your arousal as lube. He’s being thoughtful by relaxing your walls with his fingers first, and you bite down on a moan at the sensation. He’s still taking care of you by silencing you with a bruising kiss. 

“Thank you,” you sigh against his lips. His two knuckles are deep inside you as they curl and scissor. As nice as he is, he’s also very impatient and it’s not long before you feel his tip lightly poking at your entrance. 

“Ideal for a quick fuck.” He flashes a dazzling smile before it falters in order to concentrate on positioning himself. He closes his eyes and bites his lip as he slowly enters you, a lot more gentle considering the setting and knowing how vocal you get. A hum rumbles in his throat as you gasp when he’s halfway inside. When he bottoms out, he waits a few seconds for you to adjust before his rough nature returns. “You gonna stay quiet for me, little girl?”

“I’ll try.” Your heart is pounding in your chest when he leans in your ear, his breath tickling your neck. 

“You know that’s not what I wanna hear,” he whispers. He isn’t going to fuck you until you say what he wants, and your diffidence doesn’t make an appearance when his fingers are digging so hard into your thighs, his breath is hot on your skin, and he’s completely nestled inside you.

You lean into his ear as well, and meekly say, “I’ll try my best, daddy.” You can feel him shiver under your hands and hear him grunt, “God,” before he starts moving. Fast. You’d think he’s in a rush from how his pace picked up so quickly—roughly—but he may have just discovered his new kink. 

There’s no point in being quiet when the slam of his cock is enough noise deep in the alley, and he realizes that before you do. You’re bouncing in his arms, mouth open in a silent scream with only huffs leaving to not expose your doings, until he growls, “Say it again. Again and again.”

The chilly breeze from the night weather doesn’t affect you when he has you flush against him, and heat creeps all over your body not only from his hard and impatient thrusts but also from his words. “Daddy,” you whine, the same drawn out whine that he used to hate hearing; it makes his abs contract and clench now, a groan catching in his throat. He sounds almost animalistic, and your eyes screw back in pleasure. 

“Quiet, you fucking slut,” he reminds with a following moan. 

“I-I’m sorry, daddy,” you whisper in a strained voice. You can’t keep your vocal cords steady when he’s knocking the breath out of you every time he hits your cervix so deliciously. Jungkook’s a total paradox when he’s being so aggressive yet sweet at the same time, but it feels too good for you to complain. Your head is in the clouds when he bites on your shoulder to practice what he preaches: being quiet. 

“Do you love me?” Maybe that’s not the way you should go on about asking to hear his sweet nothings, because he bites you so hard that you feel his teeth break your skin. 

“The fuck kind of question is that?” he snarls. He licks a drop of your blood off of his lips when he faces you, but the bruising pistoning of his cock doesn’t differ; maybe slams into you even harder. “Hm? Answer me, dumb little slut.” He pinches your thigh cruelly, emitting a pained gasp from you.

 “I just want to hear you say it, please daddy,” you mewl. “I love you so much.”

“Keep fucking begging.”

You initially thought Jungkook became more honest and affectionate when you’re being intimate, but it seems that one word brings out a different side to him: wild and sadistic. Perhaps there are two sides of him being a daddy, one not so much of a fatherly figure. Controlling, dominating, and violent. You’ve received too many bruises in one night.

“Please, please, please, pretty please,” you comply in a cry and hug him tighter.

“Missing something,” he tuts with a breathless laugh. “I love you, stupid girl, more than anything.” He stops ramming into you, and the drag of his throbbing length loses its pace but not its strength. “So, so fucking much,” he strains before slamming into you one last time for his release. With him stuck brushing against your sensitive spot and his shaky moan, your lashes flutter and you clench down on him with the intoxicating wave of your orgasm coursing through your trembling figure. You whimper his name as his cum fills you, the warmth coating your walls while you lose your sense of awareness. 

“Stand on one leg,” he breathes. You know he’s referring to your safe foot, so you disentangle your legs from his waist and stand. The only sound aside from the drown out dialogues from the restaurants nearby is your panting. Though he’s just as drained of energy as you are, he adjusts your dress and underwear for you, even fixing your hair before he pulls up his pants and lifts you. “Don’t call me that around others by the way– especially Taehyung.”

“I promise,” you assure with a chuckle.

The next day, a dreadful Monday, is not so bad when you get to link with your boyfriend and other friends by your usual spot on the benches. You don’t have a lot of lectures throughout the day, and you sit next to Jungkook who’s chatting with Taehyung and Yoongi after your long morning lecture in the afternoon. You peck his cheek as a greeting with a lovesick grin, and the former annoyed look on his face vanishes when he sees you. Soyeon and Minnie are close by, and thankfully there’s no tension between anyone. You’re forgiving, but you aren’t going to forget.

“So you two are actually back together, huh?” Taehyung says with a mocking smile. “What goes around comes around, Kookie.”

“Taehyung, you’re not making this any easier on yourself,” Yoongi murmurs.

Jungkook scoffs and rolls his tongue around his cheek—an irritated habit. “Well then Tae, I’m going to be polite and ask you to not be a homewrecker.”

“I have been hanging around Soyeon too much lately…” he jokes with a tilt of his head.

“Don’t turn this on me,” she says with a quirked brow, tone as soft as Jungkook remembers. You sit back and sigh at their bickering. “I didn’t know his name, you have no excuse to be flirting with her.”

“He isn’t–” You can’t get a word in when Jungkook agrees, “She’s fucking right, you know. Stop tailing around me to get a look up at her skirt.”

“I am not–"

“Oh for God’s sake,” Yoongi sighs like you do. Both of you share a guilty look, apologizing on each other’s behalf. It’s only when you start tracing the tattoos on Jungkook’s arm that he finally looks at you.

“You like it?” he asks, a bit smugly. You nod with a tiny smile. His tongue darts out to lick his lips before he pecks yours, and says, “I’ll add your name to the collection. Thinking of inking my knuckles.”

A blush from his kiss, and a bashful smile from his idea graces your face when you cutely pout, “No…” He laughs at your very obviously fake denial and closes in on you, teasing in a whisper, “Yeah? You like that?”

“Look at you two being so adorable,” Taehyung interrupts with a dreamy sigh, “but I want ice cream.” He holds his hands up by his elbows on the oak table and leans his face on them with fluttering eyelashes. “Kookie? Ice cweam? Pwease?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Jungkook winces at the disgustingly cutesy face he makes, and you release a humoured breath at the friendlier banter. “Go buy it yourself, moron.”

“I don’t have money and I want her tea on how you two made up,” he flutters his lashes again with his fingers intertwined; begging so silly. “Pretty please.”

“Now I’m definitely not going to leave you alone with her.”

“Baby,” you interject, and his eyes widen at the nickname. “I want ice cream too.”

He flashes a quick glare at Taehyung, easily giving into your needs with a sigh. “You’re paying, fuckface.” He snatches his wallet the moment it’s out of his pocket and walks off while spinning it between his fingertips.

“He stole my fucking wallet,” he frowns without offence. “Oh well. So…” his eyes trail to you with a mischievous glint, “you never smoked before, right?”

You shake your head, a bit curious—albeit amused—as to where he’s going with this. 

“You wanna know something? Jungkook reeeaaally likes smokers,” he stretches his hands for emphasis. It piques your interest, and you raise a brow. “I can teach you. We have to do it fast, before he comes from the store. Okay?”

“Um… okay,” you laugh as he switches seats from across you to Jungkook’s spot. 

He takes out his pack where his lighter is also stuffed as he speaks, “So what I’m gonna do is teach you how to shotgun.”

“You can’t do that with a cigarette,” Yoongi states in boredom, a plain contrast to Taehyung’s hyperactivity. “Don’t listen to him. He’s lying to you.”

“Oh, shut the fuck– okay, sorry, didn’t mean to say that.” He turns to you with glimmering excitement, “It’ll be easier on you if we do it with a shotgun.” You merely shrug because you don’t even know what that means. He sticks a cigarette in his mouth before holding up a hand to his lighter, inhaling until the tip burns. Smoke flies past his lips as he explains, “You inhale from the filter, but don’t inhale too much. You’re going to cough, maybe feel a little lightheaded since it’s your first time, but try to hold it in, okay?” 

Taehyung peeks behind Yoongi before shifting his attention to you. He takes another drag from the cigarette but doesn’t exhale. “Okay,” you say with a nod, sharing his excitement at a new experience that Jungkook could potentially approve of. You can rely on Taehyung’s honesty, though the bad memory from before leaves a bad feeling in the pit of your stomach, but you’re ready to create better memories with him. He flips the stick until the filter is between your lips.

He wraps his lips around the tip and your eyebrows shoot up at the proximity. He holds your face between his large palms, and the cigarette is hidden behind his hands. He leans closer and nods at you, and you take the cue to inhale. You hear Yoongi blow out a deep breath just as you take in a shallow one. The urge to cough strikes you instantly, and you hold it in the best you can; your cheeks puff out as you slightly wheeze, and smoke leaves from both your mouth and nose. That’s when Taehyung pulls back, the intense eye contact gone, and you hear Yoongi scoff and the heavy footsteps of someone else. You cough into your hand when Taehyung slips it out of your mouth and holds it under the table.

“What the fuck?” Jungkook asks incredulously and throws three wrapped popsicles on the bench. You feel slightly dizzy when your small coughing fit ends, and you grow confused as to why your boyfriend is glaring at you with such intensity as his eyes flicker back and forth between you and Taehyung.

“Had to take you up on the homewrecker offer–” Taehyung’s sentence is cut off when Jungkook pulls him up by his collar, hesitates with his fist flying midway, then forcefully pushes him onto the pavement instead. He’s also confused– frantic, and doesn’t know what to do.

You’re semi-conscious of what he’s doing, but consuming nicotine for the first time leaves you feeling quite strange. You feel like you’ll stumble if you try to stand up, and slur if you speak, so you just wait it out.

“What– Why are you just sitting there?” he asks you with violent gestures. “What the fuck?” He holds onto his head, and all of your friends are quiet as they watch him. They must have missed you smoking for the first time. Yoongi waits for him to stop pacing.

“It’s not what you think, Jungkook,” Yoongi calmly tells him. What is he thinking though? “I know it looked–”

“The fuck it did! Right fucking in front of me? How the fuck are you so calm?” he yells. 

“Hm?” you say. He watches you in astonishment: bottom lip jutting out and brows scrunched. If he didn’t see you shamelessly kissing Taehyung out in the open, he would be doubting his own vision because of how unbothered you seem. It bewilders him; why aren’t you reacting at all?

“They weren’t–”

“It took almost one fucking week of dating for you to resort to this?” Taehyung is still on the ground as he sends you a warning glance, Yoongi is unbothered by the ordeal because he’s constantly interrupted, and Jungkook is fuming at you while you just sit there.

“I was just curious,” you relate to the cigarette that is still lit beneath the grass next to Taehyung.

An astounded laugh is his only response as Taehyung smiles at you, but you’re only looking at Jungkook. “And here I thought, like a fucking idiot, that you were the only girl unlike my mother. And you,” he looks at his old friend with menace, “show your face around me, and I won’t hold back again. God, I need to kill someone,” he sighs before storming off. So he doesn’t like cigarettes?

When the fog in your mind begins to clear up, you stand to go after him just as Taehyung blocks your path. “I need to tell him I won’t smoke again,” you try to push him aside, but he doesn’t budge.

He laughs. “It’s not about that. He thinks you and I kissed because I made it look like it.” Just as you’re about to confront him, he clarifies, “Listen, I just want his reaction on this, okay? Don’t you want him to feel how you felt when he kissed your friend?”

“I’m over that.”

“Are you though?” No, you aren’t. “Aren’t you paranoid? All nervous when he’s around other girls? Or even when he’s just not around you?” Your silence prompts him to continue, “You’ll truly forgive him if you take revenge. You know he won’t do it again if he feels the same way you felt.”

“But that’s cruel…” you try to reason.

“And what he did wasn’t?” 

Like the little devil on your shoulder, he enters your mind and reads it for his own agenda. What is his intention? Do what he couldn’t do with his ex? Is he… helping you? What he did was bad, so why aren’t you calling him out for it?

“What do I do?” you dodge his question. He knows the answer anyway.

He smiles with satisfaction. “Let’s talk it over a few cigarettes, hm?”

Back to square one– no, square zero. At square one, you could at least interact with Jungkook, do his homework and have him kiss you when he was satisfied; you don’t have anything to do with him now. Taehyung warned you of this, told you Jungkook would start seeing other people and avoid you unless he wanted to hurt you. How he knows him so well is beyond you, because that’s exactly what happens in the next four days.

You watch him from afar like before, see that scowl on his face that you haven’t seen in a long time after you met. Only two aspects have changed: the eye contact and Taehyung’s lack of presence around him. Jungkook’s eyes are always on you, filled with so much disdain and hatred, even when he’s kissing another girl. Smoking stops you from crying because of how dizzy you get, and Taehyung is always with you – waiting. Both of you are waiting for Jungkook to do something, and it’s a surprise Taehyung still hasn’t been beaten to a pulp for just talking to you.

Maybe it’s a sign that you and him weren’t meant to be. In the span of a short while when you were together, only problems have surfaced. So much misery and anger in a relationship isn’t normal; it’s toxic. But you wait anyway.

“Look at him glaring at you with a girl on his lap,” Taehyung chuckles before lighting up his cigarette. He’s leaning on the wall next to the campus entrance with you.

“Nothing new,” you croak and take a drag from yours, coughing again. It’s déjà vu, if anything. One has to learn from their mistakes to reach success, right? This situation is just one of them for the better of your relationship. Has to be. 

“Worldstar,” he sings with a laugh. “I kind of miss hanging out with him, though; and the rest of my friends.”

“Yeah.” You can’t exactly pay your utmost attention to his words when you’re having a staring contest with Jungkook, who is practically devouring the unidentified girl’s mouth. It doesn’t sting as much as long as he has his eyes on you because you know what it means now: he’s trying to make you jealous. You didn’t know that before, but you didn’t know Jungkook as well as you do now before either. 

“I know what you’re thinking.”

“You somehow always do.”

Your reply humors him. “You want to go up to him, tell him what I did. But you know I’ll stop you.” His eyes squint as his cheeks hollow to inhale the nicotine. It’s a Marlboro Red, not exactly fit for a starter like yourself. You hate that you can’t even stand without using the wall as a leverage, but the effect is a necessary distraction.

 “Why are you… so invested in this?”

He shrugs. “It may not seem like it, but it’s going to help strengthen your bond. It also gives you enough time to stop liking him and fall for me instead, but that’s just a plus.”

“What?” you slur. The cigarette is hanging on for dear life between your fingertips because of how weak you feel.

“We should kiss– for real this time,” he blurts. “He’ll talk to you sooner. God, I really want to kiss you.” He drops his stick before grabbing your face and softly crashing his lips against yours. You don’t close your eyes, you don’t really do much of anything while he does what he wants. It goes on for twenty seconds before he slowly pulls back. “He’ll talk to you tonight,” he exhales. “You’re welcome.” He pecks you again.

You finally close your eyes and your head hangs limply. “You’re the real problem,” you murmur, “you keep tearing us apart. The villain.”

“That kiss was on me,” he admits, “but I’m just making you face reality. Sometimes you have to be the bad guy, right? Only reason I can smoke with you is because Jungkook cares a fuckton about me. I’ll make it up to you as well, when your relationship isn’t a fucking lie.”

Couples go at their own pace, don’t they? Maybe this is how long it’s supposed to take for you to be one with your betrayed boyfriend. This is the real beginning; Taehyung is just the catalyst. 

You see it when Taehyung is gone and Jungkook isn’t kissing back anymore. He isn’t even glaring. He’s just blank.

Perhaps love isn’t all you need to be with Jungkook.

It’s late in the evening and the nicotine still hasn’t worn off. You haven’t moved an inch from your spot and neither has Jungkook from a distance, still on the same curb across. The girl left when she didn’t receive any responses from him for a minute straight. An emotionless “fuck off” was enough for her to angrily storm off.

You have no idea where Taehyung went and you’re sitting on the ground with your knees to your chest and hands on your sides. Jungkook is staring at you from the bench. You just need to wait because he’s going to approach you like his friend told you.

People aren’t in the yard so it’s mostly empty in the open space. The lights from the streets and inside the building you have your back against don’t allow you to see your boyfriend clearly enough. He doesn’t have an issue with making out your features though. That kicked puppy expression on your face is drawing him, but he hasn’t been cruel enough.

It’s been difficult treating you like shit, so he doesn’t bother. It’s pathetic anyway, more pathetic than having smeared lip gloss on his mouth that he hasn’t wiped off. He knows he shouldn’t be so immature – he’s twenty years old. He’s old enough to be able to communicate, but no one’s been making it easy for him.

He has to decide whether he wants to be with you or just end it all before he feels any worse. 

As the saying goes, no pain – no gain.

Jungkook slides down the wall and sits next to you after trudging in your way. It’s silent at first, and he doesn’t return your gaze when you look at him. You wait, and so does he. But he’s more impatient than you are; more hurt. 

“What did you see in him, for God’s sake?” His voice is tired; words merely a sigh. You stay patient. “I mean, right after I opened up to you? Why?”

“I was paranoid,” you croak quietly, as if you’re about to faint, “terrified of you being with someone else. Maybe if you felt what I felt…”

He lightly shakes his head. “No, you didn’t think of that on your own. You didn’t kiss him either.” You lean your head on his shoulder. “You didn’t want to smoke, didn’t want any of this to happen. What are you doing, my love?”

You sigh. “I didn’t do anything. I don’t do anything.” The issue is that you let yourself be manipulated and molded into anything Jungkook likes, but he’s never told you what he likes. “All I know is loving you. That’s it,” you shrug tiredly, “that’s all I do. Everything I do, I do for you.”

“I’ll ask you for one thing– okay, two. Scrub your fucking lips and never talk to that piece of shit again. I’m not friends with good people,” he turns to you, “I don’t want you around them. I’m stuck in a constant cycle of toxicity and you’re the only good fucking thing in my life right now. I don’t want you to smoke or talk with my friends.”

“Then why do you?”

He stammers, “I-I’m used to it, I don’t fucking know. I know how to protect myself, but you’re too… untainted for them. Look at us, we don’t even fucking dress similarly. You and I have nothing in common.” He huffs to himself and looks up to the sky. “If you know what’s good for you–”

“You are good for me,” you interject.

“Don’t fucking lie to yourself,” he scoffs at you, “I’m anything but good for you. Do I give a fuck though? No. I’m selfish, and I don’t want to lose you. But if you–”

“I don’t.”

“Okay.”

Another moment of silence passes. He’s the one to break it again. “I don’t want to have an issue like this ever again. No more infidelity, or whatever the fuck, no more silence. Communication, right?”

“Right. And no more getting involved with your social life.”

“Thank you,” he bows his head and licks his lips with a sigh. “I can’t deal with this again. I don’t want to leave like my dad, whore around like my mom; I just want to have normal fucking relationship problems.” His anxiety translates to his body language: nibbling, knee bouncing, cracking knuckles. He doesn’t like to talk about his family, friends or even you. You’re calmer in comparison. “Tell me… we’ll start over.”

“I’m not resetting my love for you,” you playfully nudge him.

The corner of his mouth curls. “Not like that. Let’s go back to you doing my homework.”

“Really?”

“I missed a fucking assignment today, okay?” he laughs. “I want to forget about all of this sad shit, you ever meeting my friends, Sooyen or whatever, all of it. Just you and me, okay?”

“Set our own pace,” you add with a nod. “No one interfering with our… bullshit.”

“Don’t fucking swear,” he puts a hand over your mouth and pushes your face with a wide grin. You giggle with him. 

Now that Taehyung and Soyeon’s over, there’s nothing left to chance with the involvement of someone else. Trust blooms instead, and it’s not so bad when Jungkook shares a cigarette with you as you take tiny puffs per his instruction. You are safe with him; not dizzy, lightheaded, manipulated, nothing. 

You’re happy, and so is he. Maybe that was the intention, but it means nothing. Taehyung sought vengeance through your relationship, and that’s that. No one can hold Jungkook against you when he’s in the palm of your hands, ready to tell you more than anyone else can offer. 

Jungkook’s love and trust: check.

When he flicks off the ash of his cigarette, you snuggle into him and whisper, “I love you daddy.” His ring glimmers under the moonlight as he pets your hair.

“Love you more, babygirl.”

[mytly4]

This episode makes no sense on any level.

The village’s whole problem is that their river is so polluted that they can’t fish in it anymore. But Shu still somehow has plenty of fish/clams to sell. Granted, they’re not very appealing (because of the polluted water, presumably), but they’re still available and people can and do eat them. So why are the villagers starving? And if they are, why can’t Shu give them some of his fish? The kid comes begging to Katara for a fish, but why he can’t ask Shu directly? Or is Shu too selfish to help feed his fellow villagers? In that case, their immediate problem is Shu, not the factory.

The real Painted Lady can turn up to thank Katara, but won’t deign to turn up to actually help the villagers who worship her? Frankly, that puts her in the same asshole category as Shu.

Why/how does Katara manage to single-handedly steal enough food from the factory to feed the whole village, but the villagers are unable to do so? Even if they fear reprisals (which is valid), surely it’s better than literally starving? And if it’s so bad, why not try moving upriver? Why continue to live in and fish directly downriver of the factory’s outflow?

And ultimately, even scaring off the factory supervisor guy (or whoever he was) is only a short-term solution. How likely is it that when he reports to his superiors that the factory was destroyed by a spirit, they’ll believe him? As opposed to immediately investigating in person, and punishing the villagers? Probably at a time when the Gaang aren’t around to help the villagers again. And ultimately the factory will probably be rebuilt, and the same problems will arise again (that is, if the entire village isn’t destroyed as a reprisal from the army).

I get what the writers were trying to convey through this episode, but with a few tweaks, it could have made more sense and wouldn’t have painted the villagers as idiots who can’t do anything to help themselves or assholes who won’t help their fellow villagers, and would have shown the Gaang providing a genuine long-term solution, in a way that the villagers themselves wouldn’t have been able to.

The main beats of the story could have remained the same. However, it could have been framed as Katara wanting to help the villagers by secretly cleaning up the river – that is, doing something that she, as a waterbender, would have been able to do far more easily than the Fire Nation villagers. Sokka could have still pointed out that this wouldn’t be a long-term solution, as the river will just get polluted again as long as the factory keeps dumping its effluents into it. Katara might seriously consider destroying the factory – maybe egged on by Toph (who’s always up for some destruction). But Sokka (the strategist of the group) decides that a better solution – with a lot less potential to backfire on the villagers – would be to change the river’s flow such that the factory’s effluents don’t directly affect the village. Toph and Aang earthbend a separate channel for the effluents to flow into, whereas Katara changes the river’s flow such that the channel leading to the village does not pass by the factory at all.

The final act could still remain more or less the same, i.e., the factory supervisor and his goons still turn up at the village to harass the villagers once they notice the change in the river’s flow, but the villagers attribute it to their guardian spirit, the Painted Lady. The Gaang put on a show to scare off the supervisor and co. They run off, and decide that it’s above their pay grade to worry about the river’s flow. After all, it doesn’t affect the factory negatively, and they don’t really care where the factory effluents go, as long as it’s “away from here”. Katara helps the villagers clean up the remaining muck from the river (and heals the sick, while she’s at it). The real Painted Lady turns up to thank the whole Gaang.

The Painted Lady

Air Bison, Sea Bison, and now Sludge Bison.

I have no idea how Aang is swimming through a solid. Must be an Avatar thing.

I bet there would be time for more potty breaks if Sokka hadn't spent 100+ hours of their time drawing up the schedule. A very Sokka thing to do though.

Because hills often have horns. Great disguise.

You can't tell me that a factory that close to their town wouldn't also become the town's primary employer.

That is a lot of town.

I sense a return of preachy Katara. This episode is going to suck.

I'm with Sokka on this one. Buy fish, move on, defeat Firelord, return to help with environmental remediation if time permits.

I like Doc. And Shu. Nice people.

Writers: if you have to make one of your characters an entirely different person to set up the episode's lesson of the week, maybe the lesson doesn't fit your chosen characters. This is the Warriors of Kyoshi all over again. Funny how that's happened to Sokka twice.

We are all Sokka.

And where exactly did this mysterious painted lady get the food to deliver to the village, if the reason the Gaang stopped in the village in the first place was because they needed food?

Let the record show: I lost the last of my patience with this episode 8 minutes and 9 seconds in.

Waterbending healing has never thrown off that much light before. Even the spirit oasis water wasn't that bright.

Also where is the water she's healing with? Usually she has a big bubble of it.

Impersonating a religious figure. That won't end badly.

"Well I hope she returns every night otherwise this place would go right back to the way it was." YES!!!!!! THAT'S THE POINT!!!!!

What was Katara's plan? Forget about the eclipse, forget about fighting the Fire Lord, we're going to stay here for the rest of our lives so that the painted lady can put in a nightly appearance. THIS IS WHY SOKKA DOES THE PLANNING.

Spirit magic is more doing the worm than doing the wave. Good to know.

Bold of a kids' show to advocate for ecoterrorism.

Aang's like "Hey spirit lady! Here's my resume! Here's my connections on LinkedIn!" Why did Katara think that faking being a spirit within two feet of the bridge to the spirit world would be consequence free? Actually that presupposes that Katara thought. Which she didn't. Sokka does her thinking.

"I don't get to meet many spirits. But the ones I do meet, not very attractive." I am OFFENDED on Yue's behalf. And Sokka's. I guess Aang doesn't like Water Tribe girls after all.

"I guess I just became her." No. That's an excuse and a deflection. I don't want to hear it.

What was I saying about Aang and Katara enabling each others' bad tendencies?

Sokka is horribly out of character this episode, but Aang is as well. In what universe would Aang be so unbothered by Appa being sick, and then so unbothered by the reveal that Katara had been faking Appa being sick? Like, this is Appa. He nearly skinned a bunch of sandbenders over the guy. And he finds out Katara's been messing with him and calls her 'great' and 'a secret hero.'

So this factory, despite being operational 24/7, has no night staff, not even a night guard? Because if it does (which it absolutely does - automation is a problem for factories in our world, not the ATLA one), Katara and Aang just killed A LOT of people.

And so she follows up one short term solution with another short term solution, which causes a third problem she will no doubt solve with a short term solution. You think there won't be reprisals for the only obvious suspects to this industrial sabotage? You think they won't rebuild the factory?

Sokka was kidding when he said that the Spirit Lady had better blow up the factory, but not in the way Katara thought he was kidding. Katara thought he wasn't being serious. But Sokka was serious, in that blowing up the factory is as short term a solution as appearing every night. He thought the joke - exchanging one bad solution for another - was obvious.

Somebody's enjoying himself a little too much.

Unfortunately, serving as Exhibit A is the most Toph has had to do all episode.

It is cathartic to see someone finally call Katara on her nonsense. But I'll bet everything I own that the narrative is going to side with her anyway.

Welp. I won that bet.

"You need me." Correct! Katara unsupervised needs bailing out after five minutes. "And I will never turn my back on you." A much more realistic goal than never turning your back on anyone who needs you, and also Sokka summarised in one sentence. Impressive for an episode where they had to Flanderise him beyond recognition to make Katara somehow the good guy.

Oh for fuck's sake. It's not about having a heart. This late in the game it's pure damage control.

So that's where the Painted Lady's food came from. I guess Fire Nation factories count as pirates?

I like the jetskis. The seem far more stable than actual jetskis.

It never occurred to Katara to obscure the evidence even a little bit? At least rub some dirt on the emblem. Look at me assuming Katara has thoughts.

Actual reprisals for once. About time.

This kid is annoying.

Toph gets to be a haunted house sound effects machine.

That's awfully waterbendery for a Fire Nation spirit.

I don't buy for a minute that anyone would be able to stay perfectly upright and balanced after an air blast from below without extensive trampoline training.

This won't work. His superiors, or the next shift change, or the first recruit wanting to climb the ranks quickly, will rise to the challenge presented here by the "painted lady." And as soon as one FN attack goes unchallenged by the "painted lady," the village is toast. I give them a week, tops.

Kudos to some clever in-universe bending special effects. Doesn't save the episode though.

Katara's preachy speech here makes absolutely no sense in light of the rest of the episode. Scolding them for not saving themselves, when waiting around for someone to save them appears to have worked perfectly? And having little miss I-must-save-the-whole-world-on-a-weekly-basis-otherwise-my-sense-of-self-implodes deliver that scold?

Who are these people wearing the Gaang's skin?

Yeah, nothing screams undercover in enemy territory like an entire village knowing that you're a waterbender. Good thing the only competent tracker in the Fire Nation is Zuko, otherwise these kids will absolutely be dead long before the eclipse.

Hi Bushi! You're about the only part of this episode that doesn't drive me nuts!

At least the animators had fun with this one.

Is this guy mopping the river?

Exactly how many days did they take out of Sokka's schedule to restore the ecosystem? I don't care how overlevelled these kids are at bending, you cannot mechanically separate an entire river's worth of dirt from water in an afternoon.

Well that's just he piss icing on the shit cake, isn't it? It wasn't enough for Sokka to lose all reason and come around to Katara's very flawed way of thinking, it wasn't enough for Aang to call her a hero, it wasn't enough to have a village worshipping at her feet, Katara needs affirmations of how right and special and correct and perfect and morally justified she is from the spirit world itself. This is Mary Sue stuff.

Final Thoughts

This is the first time an episode of Avatar has felt like a waste of my time.

It's also the first time I've felt like an episode has gone out of its way to insult the audience.

Katara talking about how she knows what she's doing is wrong is worth absolutely nothing when a) she goes right back to doing it; and b) literally every other part of this episode trips over itself to assure Katara that she's in the right.

Katara is downright punchable this episode. Sokka is Flanderised; Toph is non-existent; Aang is just there; poor Appa is an unwitting accessory to crime; and Momo has as much impact as a housefly.

So the execs forgot about the existence of The Spirit World Part One and demanded a save the environment special episode. The writers responded by forgetting that they'd already established that Katara was ride or die for literally anyone with a pulse in Imprisoned, and gave us this to remind us of that fact. They also forgot that they'd already established that Katara has no moral code whatsoever the minute her personal interest is involved in The Waterbending Scroll, so they decided to recycle the "narrative sides with Katara endangering them all over Sokka being reasonable" plot from that episode and hope we wouldn't notice. We did.

At least with Imprisoned, Katara kind of sort of caused the problem that she fixed. She was super tangentially involved in that kid's arrest. Here, she causes problems by trying to fix problems that she didn't really have any business getting involved in.

The more of this I watched, the more I wanted someone to slap Katara. What I wouldn't give for an episode where she is wrong (has happened a lot) and the episode doesn't pretend otherwise (has never happened). For god's sake, LET HER BE WRONG AND FEEL IT. How else is she going to progress past being self-righteously fourteen? Why is she being so consistently insulated from consequences? Aang chooses power over family at the end of season two and gets actually murdered for it. Katara steals, lies, skirts dangerously close to being a false prophet and does a nifty little ecoterrorism (with Aang's help), and she gets villagers being a bit shouty before big brother comes in and fixes it. Then she gets divine sanction for her actions so even the shouty bit is negated.

There's an interesting contrast in Katara's "I will never turn my back on people who need me" and Sokka's "I will never turn my back on you." It shows which of the two doesn't have their head in the clouds, and has actually formulated realistic expectations of how much a single person can do. It also speaks to the fundamental difference in how they operate. Katara acts; Sokka mitigates. Sokka does Katara's thinking for her; Katara outsources her thinking and then gets pissed when rational thoughts don't conform to her emotions' view of the world.

Why haven't the villagers moved away? If the water was poisoning them this much, why are they still here? Was the early 2000s too early to have a theme of climate refugees? Or the pollution equivalent? That would have been more interesting than this.

I hated this. Why isn't this the episode that gets hated on like the Great Divide? Its sins are nothing compared to this.

Doc, Shu, and Bushi were the only good thing in this episode, but they weren't enough to make this one remotely rewatchable.

One out of Three so far on season three episode quality. No other season has had this bad a ratio this early. This does not bode well for the rest of this season.

[oqal]

Hi! I just saw ur au!!! Its very cute and I have questions bc I have been scrolling.... for quite a bit.

1.Whats Glenn's relationship with the twins? I saw you saying he's their unofficial 'ugly grandpa lmfao

2. What's up with the twins and JR? Does he acknowledge then at all or they just there?

swings my feet i am SO glad you ASKED

i don’t care if people don’t like glenn, i personally really like glenn bc he’s hilarious and he gives that old-school dad/grandpa warmth so

SO GLENN!!

glenn is the obvious, the term escapes me, the unasked for advice kinda parent. because what we learned from the show, he has a daughter presumably in middle/high school, and he’s the only parent on the team. he annoys reagan and brett a lot with inane advice bc he think he knows it all and shit. but when the twins are born, menaces from day one but in their own way

glenn has a propensity for being chaotic and violent, which is just may’s speed. even glenn had trouble catching up to her in the store-bought armageddon that is cognito when the twins are older. when he’s going batshit about something, pulling out flamethrowers, may is right behind him with a mini flamethrower he custom made for her. she feeds off his literal military-grade havoc. and glenn really likes may for that as well! (so she kinda faces the same PUT THAT DOWN kinda backlash glenn gets kdjsjsk). she’s kinda like a feisty kitten that bites a little too hard and then bounces off the walls with glenn lmfao

ian is the gentler of the two, he’s very shy and timid and sensitive as a little kid so kinda like andre, glenn matches his interests. glenn will show him all his little gadgets and model planes from his years in the service, lets ian take them apart and put them back together. ian is clingy and likes being carried when he’s young, so it’s Ian Shoulder Time but all the time with glenn. he’s shy but not very scared of things, thanks mom for desensitizing him to everything. ian is definitely the easier-going of the two, but sometimes you’ll catch ian stuffing something into his blowhole out of curiosity then baby laughing like crazy when glenn is absolutely choking

AND FOR JR

okay so i know jr shot reagan in the finger but lets just say that was a random shot so anyways

jr watched reagan grow up, and i discussed earlier in some headcanons that rand often handed toddler reagan to jr when he wanted to go get drunk in a corner or something. i still appreciate the fact that jr doesn’t coddle reagan, i don’t think he’s ever been family-oriented, but he would be amused by the twins, definitely!!

it would just be a rinse and repeat with toddler reagan, except actually way more dynamic and chaotic, and because it’s nearly uncontrollable, i’ll compare it to early season four of wwdits w laszlo and baby collin robinson. just putting them in like the most baby training courses, baby-dummy courses with how to become fearful and powerful only for it to end with ian short-circuited an entire floor of electricity and making the water sprinklers go off in cognito and may chasing him with plasma-ray gun because she thinks it’s a toy when she’s actually shooting around his feet and baby laughing bc it’s funny

just imagine a torched, electrical-sparkling from his hair jr handing the twins back to reagan and brett like “i’ve seen murder mazes in shadow prison x scarier than them” jdjdjsjs

[stiltonbasket]

au of an au for qin su!wwx where wwx is still in qin su's body but it's JYL who gets summoned back in MXY's body.

Jiang Yanli doesn’t know what she was expecting to happen after she died, but it certainly wasn’t waking up a few minutes later in a donkey shed with blood all over her robes.

She’d been stabbed, she remembers. Perhaps they put her in the first sheltered place they could find while the battle was still going on, and somehow missed the fact that she was still alive? Yanli reaches up to her chest and tries to feel her heartbeat; she is somehow very certain that she had died, since the look on A-Xian’s face when the sword went through her chest was--

But the memory remains unfinished, because Yanli’s hands are poking at her bosom, patting over her ribs one by one as she wonders when she became so thin. Her mother always complained about her narrow figure, even as she scolded her for eating so much when she was in her teens--and Madam Jin worried about how difficult childbirth might be before Jin Ling arrived, since her waist and hips were so skinny--but her breasts were never this flat, and her ribs never stuck out this much even when she was a child.

And then her fingers brush over the rounded lump at her throat, and reveal the truth in one devastating blow that brings Yanli to her knees.

This isn’t my body, she realizes, backing away from the bloody array on the ground and into the rickety cupboard standing against the wall. This is a man’s body.

___

Less than two hours after she wakes, Yanli escapes from the Mo estate in such turmoil that she almost forgets to take the donkey with her.

Keep your wits about you, she berates herself, dressing herself in the only set of spare robes she could find before squirming out of the shed’s high window and crumpling into the dust outside. Mo Xuanyu meant to bring back A-Xian, but that means that A-Xian is...

She blinks back tears, dragging the donkey down the road behind her as she reads over Mo Xuanyu’s letter again. The poor boy had been one of Jin Guangshan’s illegitimate sons, Jiang Yanli’s own xiaoshuzi, and Jin Guangyao had exiled him because he had learned the truth about Qin Su being his younger half-sister.

He was behind your death, too, the letter said. I believe he might even have organized Jin Zixuan’s assassination, since he most likely murdered our father, as well.

Jiang Yanli grits her teeth and pushes on. The single long cut in her arm throbs--a cut that will heal only when Jin Guangyao dies, according to Mo Xuanyu--but the sting is nothing to the twenty hours of sheer agony that was giving birth to Jin Ling, who turned out so big and chubby that she spent the first few hours of his life wondering how such an enormous baby could have possibly fit inside her.

How old would A-Ling be now? she wonders. Did Jin Guangyao and Qin Su bring him up, in mine and Zixuan’s place?

Oddly enough, she doesn’t find herself shying away at the thought of bringing Jin Guangyao to justice. She can probably count on Nie Mingjue to do the actual killing, if it comes to it; there was bad blood between the two even before she and her husband died, and quite frankly, she doesn’t blame Nie Mingjue for it.

A-Xian tore the men who killed the Jiang shidis and shimeis limb from limb, and she would expect no less from a man who watched Jin Guangyao kill his brothers-in-arms right before his eyes.

But then, why did they swear brotherhood after that?

It must have been for Zewu-jun’s sake, Yanli thinks wearily, when she finally stops at a river crossing and leads her donkey down onto the pebbly beach to take a drink. Though I doubt that Zewu-jun could have sworn brotherhood with anyone who had Lan blood on their hands, whether he owed them a life-debt or not.

Her stomach growls, and she searches in the donkey’s saddle-bag for something to eat just in case the owners of the Mo estate had left some bread or fruit there to coax the animal with. Her brief hunt yields a pair of shriveling apples, half-dried but not yet spoiled, so she washes down the fresher one with plenty of cold water and feeds the bigger, drier apple to the donkey.

“I think I’ll call you Apple,” she laughs, as it wolfs down the fruit before sticking its muzzle back into the bubbling stream. “Do you like your name, xiao-pingguo?”

Little Apple takes to the name well enough, and brays contentedly every time she calls it. They rest together by the river for an hour, with Yanli napping in the shade with Little Apple keeping guard; and she starts off again just after noon, hoping to find a main road that might direct her to a town and then towards the nearest cultivation sect.

Jiang Yanli has to admit that Yunmeng Jiang is out of the question: because as much as she loves her younger brother, she highly doubts that he won’t do something stupid if he thinks some nameless Jin exile is pretending to be her. And she certainly can’t go back to Lanling with Jin Guangyao still there, so her quarry will have to be the Gusu Lan clan. Hanguang-jun was friends with her A-Xian, and would surely hear her out for his sake if for nothing else; and Zewu-jun is not as hot-tempered as Chifeng-zun, meaning that Yanli will come to no harm even if Lan-zongzhu doesn’t believe her.

“Xiao-Pingguo,” Yanli begins, stepping over something silvery in the grass as the two of them head deeper into the woods, “how far do you think the--”

Suddenly, her legs go out from under her. Little Apple brays and backs away in alarm, tossing his head anxiously as Yanli struggles into a sitting position and tries to make sense of the fact that her donkey is now over ten feet below her.

“What on earth?” she mutters, biting back one of A-Xian’s favorite curse words as she takes stock of her current situation: trapped inside a net swaying far above the ground, and with no means of cutting her way free from it without breaking her own neck.

“It caught something!” Yanli hears a boyish voice shout, followed by the crackling of someone rushing through the forest and the twang of a drawn bowstring. “Duck, Yu-da-shixiong! I’m going to shoot!”

“You are going to do no such thing,” someone else drawls, with a hint of a sharp Northern accent that reminds her of her late mother. “At least see what you’ve caught, you onionhead. If your stupid nets managed to catch a Lan, you’ll have Chifeng-zun and Hanguang-jun dragging you to Jin-zongzhu for punishment. Chifeng-zun might even punish you himself, since he’s Jin-zongzhu’s sworn da-ge. Do you really want to take the risk?”

“No,” the first boy grumbles. “And anyway, it looks like it’s just--you!”

The sudden dislike in his voice makes Yanli look down, startled, and then the breath flies out of her body as the Jin disciple marches up to stand beneath her.

“Jin Ling?” she asks, her own voice cracking like shattered glass as the Jiang disciple mounts his sword and flies up towards her, presumably so that he can help her climb out of the net. “A-Ling--is it you?”

[innovativestruggles]

Guys, guys I just noticed something re: Overhaul and Lady Nagant;

(THAT’S RIGHT OVERHAUL, BOW DOWN TO YOUR QUEEN)

a) Unless I missed this entirely, canon never stated whether Overhaul breaks out in hives if someone touches him through clothes. All that was stated was “he breaks out in hives if someone touches him” so whether it be direct skin to skin contact or through clothes, I am unsure, so I’m going to presume that he breaks out if anyone touches him anywhere (skin, clothes on him etc) except his hands (I have never seen him break out in hives on his hands as a result of using his quirk on others...). Though when he carried Eri during his arc, we didn’t see him break out or anything, but I’m wondering whether that’s because he fused with Katsukame and that changes his biology? Anyways, so it’s interesting to see in the above panels how Lady Nagant is legit dragging him around by his upper arm and he ain’t breaking out or anything (or not from what readers can see). Plus..he’s all filthy...and I haven’t seen a single hive.

b) OVERHAUL HATES BEING TOUCHED IN GENERAL. But this badass woman is dragging him around and he doesn’t give two shits anymore. This is how broken he is omfg my poor baby

c) I don’t know how long the timing was in between when they escaped and when they changed clothes...but....but if it was long enough where they be resting and eating...HOW DID OVERHAUL EAT WITH NO ARMS? Has she been feeding him? 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

d) SHE’S POUTING IN THE LAST PANEL WHILST HOLDING OVERHAUL. I’m sorry I know she’s doing that because of her interactions with AFO, but it just looks funny on its own 

e) I can’t get over it. Out of all the prisoners, Lady Nagant ended up picking Overhaul and taking him with her. I know she had her reasons but omfg I just love watching her dragging such a helpless sexy man around. Legit I want her to be his saviour somehow. This poor guy can’t do anything anymore. And I at least want a woman to be saving a man for once!

f) I’m also loving the fact that she has the time and patience to lug Overhaul around when he obviously is a burden on her i.e. he’s dejected, can’t dress, feed or water himself, and can’t even stand properly. He needs to be aided everywhere he goes. Yet I am presuming she is doing all the above for him, because it’s just the two of them together. Either Overhaul is part of a bigger plan for her and she needs him alive, or she just pities him so much as a victim of hero society (someone who she can relate to) that she decided to take him in.

Either way, I am forever thankful of Horikoshi atm for creating such an incredible female character and then giving her that superiority over someone like overhaul omfg ❤️

[fire-lady-ilah]

More good dad! Ozai AU? Even if you didn’t ask for it, you’re getting it and I’m picking up right where I left off. This is my reminder that, while Ozai is a good and non-abusive dad and husband in this, he is still very much an imperialist and a cruel person in general.

Parts [1] and [2] if you’d like. This is part 3. Here’s part [4]

The siblings venture into the capital, although they make it known that no one should inform their parents that they are nearby. The moment they step off the ship, Captain Jee sends a letter to the Fire Lady. He was loyal to the Prince and Princess above all, but he did not feel like being executed or exiled that day when Lady Ursa inevitably finds out.

In a large house just outside Caldera City, Lord Ukano lives with his wife, Michi, his daughter and heir, Mai, and his newborn son Tom-Tom. The Dragon Emperor and the Blue Spirit sneak into the bedroom of the heiress and steal her away.

In that I mean, Mai leaps at the opportunity to escape her home with her best friends, who she’s seen wearing the same theatre masks dozens of times, and follows willingly. It takes an hour longer than the siblings had expected, if only because Mai has far more knives than they had truly expected and they get caught up in the palace kitchens stealing Azula’s favourite mochi and some bags of fire flakes.

Then they are caught by Fire Lady Ursa, who is gathering a late night cup of cocoa after a nice night with her husband, not that her children need to know that part. Her children, who are wearing her theatre masks that had very recently gone missing from her collection, stare at her innocently. Her daughter carries two entire boxes she knows are full of mochi. Her son carries the fire flake bag they use for festivals. Her one day daughter-in-law is making a cup of cocoa and the Fire Lady calmly requests one for herself from the girl.

That night, the fire Prince and Princess sleep in their own rooms, with Lady Mai in one of the many available. In the morning, they take breakfast with the Fire Lord and Lady, discussing trivial matters of politics and domestic affairs.

Mai leaves on the request of the Fire Lord, bringing everything they took from her home and the palace (along with what Ursa and Ozai insisted they take) to the ship with the help of some soldiers.

Azula and Zuko sit with their parents. Ursa gives them each two potent bottles of poison. Ozai’s voice has a worry that only his family knows how to detect through the facade of boredom as he inquires how their firebending and blades practice has been, as to the state of their weaponry. They try to soothe their parents worries with assurances: their practice has been going well in both bending and blades, Azula has achieved perfection in lightningbending and Zuko has achieved lightning, their blades are sharp and well maintained, they weren’t harmed when the temple blew up—

It slips through Zuko’s lips. He was never the actor like his mother and sister. For their part, his parents do not react overly beyond a flickering of the flame and a long sip of tea.

“Your mission has changed.”

Ozai is smart. Everything he does is to serve his goals the best they can. In canon, the premier of those goals is to gain more power for himself. In this world, that goal is to secure the ideal outcome for his family. (Of course, his second goal is as much power as possible. But it is only considered after his first goal).

Allying themselves with the Avatar, at least in appearances, will secure the best outcome for his children. And he has no doubt that his brother (so weak after the death of his son. And yet, Ozai cannot find it within him to scorn him overly. He knows that were he to be left childless, he would break. It is merely that Ozai would break in an explosion, whereas Iroh’s flame fizzled into embers.) would eagerly help his children betray him. Even if it was just in appearances.

His children are loyal and dutiful. They protest, but only out of a desire to maintain that loyalty. He wishes the Avatar had remained hidden, at least until they were both adults. They are prodigal, yes, but they are just siblings.

“You have our permission to reveal your mother’s ancestry. Use it wisely.”

The children know their lineage for at least five generations on each side. That, of course, is in addition to their knowledge of every Fire Lord that has reigned since the unification of the Fire Nation. They are well aware that their Grandmother Rina (who feeds them chocolate and tells them stories whenever she visits) ‘s father was Avatar Roku. Just as they knew of the friendship between Fire Lord Sozin and Avatar Roku.

It is necessary for the people of their nation to hear pretty lies. It is not their responsibility to worry about the nuance and complexity of life. It is one of their responsibilities as Angi’s heirs in the mortal world. To worry of such things is a burden they should not have to bear. It is necessary for the people to believe the Avatar hated the Fire Lord.

The siblings don’t know everything, of course. They are just children after all. But they understand the nuance, the conflicting beliefs. They were told the truth (and carefully kept from necessary propaganda before then) when they were old enough to look critically at the situation. It was their duty to bring the Fire Nation’s good to the other nations, to liberate their populations, the siblings decided.

The Avatar is just a child, but he seemed able to connect with his past lives. And he had pointedly not hurt them, at least as Avatar Roku.

If nothing else, they have the Dragon Emperor and Blue Spirit on their side.

“Zhao has asked for permission to launch an invasion on the Northern Water Tribe. He is a fool, but he claims he has knowledge that will ensure his victory. Tomorrow, I will send him a letter approving his asinine idea. You will stop him— kill him, if you must— and use that act of perceived treason to ally yourselves with the Avatar.”

Ozai wants power, but he is no fool. The invasion is risky at best. He cannot find it within himself to care for the tens of thousands that would doubtlessly die in it, the Northern Water Tribe had the advantage in multiple ways. It would serve its purpose to get his children at the Avatar’s side.

The tone lightens after his orders and Ozai steps back from his role as Father Lord into just being a father. He teases his son on his interactions with his betrothed. He teases his daughter and asks if she would be visiting the circus soon, taking note of how she had learned to prevent a blush but not the squeak in her voice. They are not infallible, they are children.

As they see their children for the last time in the foreseeable future, the Fire Lord and Lady both think as to how much they will miss them. Ursa blinks back tears as she hugs them both, smiling as they react identically, burying their faces into her chest to hide them and breathing in the scent of fire lily perfume.

Ozai is not usually physically affectionate with his children. He had never received it from his father and was much more competent in other ways. That being said, no one commented on the kiss he pressed to the top of Zuko’s head (still shorter than him by quite a bit. Sometimes he acted so adult, but he was so clearly still a child) before repeating the action with Azula.

“I am so proud of you. Both of you.”

I’m just now realizing Blue Spirit is supposed to be after the whole Roku thing. Oh well.

For appearances’ sake, the siblings and Mai continue to chase the Avatar. Zhao attacks the Avatar while he trains under the Deserter. Princess Azula ensures the forest doesn’t burn while Prince Zuko uses all the bottled up anger at both Zhao himself and Azulon (really, what is with grown men trying to kill 11/12 year olds?) to yell at Zhao for acting so recklessly.

And if, perhaps, he manages to endear himself to others by knocking Zhao’s feet out from under him, all the better.

The Avatar and his friends escape and the siblings celebrate another success as Zhao nurses his bruised ass and ego.

(“Hey, did the Deserter look like that dude in Master Piandao’s painting in his main hall to you?”

“Admiral Jeong Jeong and Master Piandao were married, Zuko. Obviously that was him.”)

Zhao attempts to order their crew away from them, citing his rank as admiral as above prince and princess.

Azula’s sharp tongue reminds Admiral Zhao that Zuko is not only a prince, but the Crown Prince, and thus he is equal in rank to Zhao. As was their uncle a general, retired or not.

Behind the royalty of the ship stands Captain Jee, his eyes locked with Zhao’s. His eyes promise mutiny even if he were to somehow take them. His eyes swear loyalty to the Crown Prince, to his sister, above all else.

Zhao turns to leave.

“Of course, that is not to say we will not join your invasion.” Zuko sounds like his father sometimes, and never more than when his voice holds a hint of smug satisfaction. “Merely, do not presume to think you can order us in any way. We out rank you, and our crew is the best our Nation has to offer.”

Their ship joins, at least in appearance, Zhao’s fleet. That being said, they obey no orders from the Admiral and only allow his “inspections” of the ship and their crew once. For all intents and purposes, they are just there to observe.

And observe they do. The siblings watch the way Zhao treats his subordinates and twin righteous flames burns in their chests. The truth of being raised by a loving father means that Zuko and Azula are both rather sheltered in comparison to their canon selves. They are raised on ideals of honour and the divine responsibility of a monarch, rather than on the truths of war and practicality of rule. It only results in a hotter fire and more questions as to if Sozin’s way was truly the one to follow.

They still have absolute faith in their father. After all, he is the one that raised them, that taught them of honour and the ideals of a monarch. He is the one that sheltered them. He is the one that suggested they befriend the Avatar to keep them safe.

On the ship, only three people know the entire plan. The first two are the siblings, of course. The third is Captain Jee. He is the one that will keep their ship away from the invasion itself so there is no risk of their crew being harmed in the doomed attack. He is the one that will direct the ship to the colonies once the siblings are with the Avatar. Captain Jee has no qualms about technically commuting treason.

Mai knows some of the plan. In that, Mai knows exactly what Zuko and Azula tell her and then what she observes. She sees the way they stick together, now more than ever. Sees the way that Azula trains her non-lethal lightning (because even she, a nonbender, knows it’s far harder to bend lightning that doesn’t kill than that that does). She hears the way they drop the title of Fire Lord when speaking of their royal great grandfather. She catches whispers about Fire Lord Roku. About the Avatar.

Mai, in a way, knows more than the siblings themselves. She knows that they are genuinely sympathetic toward the Avatar in a way that they don’t yet realize. She begins to keep all her knives on her person, along with an easily grab-able bag for travelling in her room. There was no way she’d be letting her best friends turn traitor without her. This is the most exciting thing she’s done in years.

Iroh knows less than he believes. Oh, he gets the dropped title just as well as Mai, but he does not know the intricacies of Zuko and Azula the way Mai does. He sees Azula’s practice and writes it off as her ever-present search for perfection. He catches the tail end of a conversation between siblings and does not stop to consider who exactly “great grandfather” may be referring to. It would be unthinkable for his brother to tell the children of their heritage.

Despite this, Iroh also knows more than most. He knows from conversation exactly what Zhao intends to do in the Northern Water Tribe and it turns his blood to boil.

They reach the Northern Water Tribe. The siblings sneak off the ship in an emergency boat. Mai enters at the last moment and neither send her away.

Iroh has already left the ship, though he is currently in one last meeting with Zhao in an attempt to convince him not to continue with his plan. He will not check back with his niece and nephew, believing them to be safe on the ship.

In the Northern Water Tribe, the three Fire Nation teens remain tucked into the shadows. They, unfortunately, have no idea where the Avatar is and wander through the city. However, they reach the Avatar’s friends before Zhao does.

(“Is he... alive?”

“He’s just meditating.”)

It goes far better than they could have expected. The siblings’ act of releasing Sokka and Katara from Zhao’s bindings results in a part of water tribe siblings being quite willing to hear them out. Princess Yue gives them an odd look but remains quiet.

Zhao shows up. Iroh shows up. Azula and Zuko denounce him (though they cannot bring themselves to denounce their father, even though they know they should). Zhao declares them all traitors, a koi fish in a bag in his hand.

A bolt of lightning hits Zhao straight in the back. Both he and the koi fish fall into the pool of water. He does not emerge.

Azula’s face is carefully blank, even as she watches the water. She cannot stop to consider whether it is her or the water that just killed the admiral, or if he was even dead at all. She could not even see his body in its depths. She used non-lethal strength.

Despite Princess Yue’s backing, the Northern Water Tribe wants to take the siblings prisoner (hostage, everyone knows). After all, everyone knows of the devotion they show to the Fire Lord and vice versa. If nothing else, they would be excellent bargaining pieces in a more formal treaty.

They had not factored this into their plan. Admittedly, they had not factored the Northern Water Tribe into their plan at all.

The three Fire Nation teens are thrown into a prison cell. A rather comfortable prison cell, but still a prison cell. Iroh is taken somewhere else.

Within five hours, they sit on the back of a flying bison, Sokka handing them food he had smuggled out of the meal as Katara was smuggling them out of prison.

(“We tried to get your Uncle too,” the Avatar says in a remorseful tone, “but we couldn’t find him.”

“Uncle will be fine.” Azula declares, her mind set only on the future as she tries not to think about the way Zhao sunk beneath the still surface of the pond.

Zuko nods in agreement and clutches her hand in a comforting way.)

The Gaang now consists of six people:

Aang, a twelve year old Avatar with a mastery in air and a decent proficiency in water. He looks at the Fire Nation teens and sees his friend Kuzon, sees a time from before the war when an Air Nomad could wander freely through the Fire Nation. He attempts to use Fire Nation slang with them but it’s a century old and results in only laughter.

Katara, a master waterbender and healer (a concept that intrigues Azula to no end, although she tries to keep her questions polite). She tends to have a short temper when it comes to matters of the Fire Nation, but even she can be coaxed into trying a few sweets that Zuko has stored in his bag.

Sokka, a hunter and warrior who may or may not be engaged to the NWT princess (Zuko says he is, Azula says he isn’t). Azula laments that her jokes are even worse than Zuko’s, to which Mai agrees. It is that comment that leads Sokka and Zuko to start bonding, having nothing better to do on the bison’s back than exchange bad jokes.

Crown Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation, who Sokka would insist is walking Fire Nation propaganda as he goes on at least one rant about Fire Nation culture and technology a day. Who surprisingly helps Katara with the cooking because it was one of the things Fire Lady Ursa carried over from before she was Fire Lady and taught to her children.

Princess Azula of the Fire Nation, who has a sharp tongue and a sharper pair of twin daggers that she seems to enjoy threatening her brother with for any inconvenience, even though they both just laugh at it. (Katara and Sokka have to be assured by them both that they truly love each other and that threatening each other with weapons carried over from the theatre scrolls they used to act out as children).

Lady Mai talks the least, seemingly content just to talk to Zuko and Azula. Aang makes it his mission to get her to warm up to him and spends a good portion of his time trying to talk to her. He succeeds when he brings up air ball, of all things. Mai’s parents had discouraged her from sport, believing it to be unfitting of a young lady just as they had discouraged her interest in knives until Zuko and Azula had ganged up on them. Partially for that reason, Mai enjoyed sports quite a bit, a shock to even Zuko (though Azula knew). After that, she talks mainly to Zuko, Azula, and Aang.

Captain Jee guides his ship to the Fire Nation colonies, unable to confirm that his Prince and Princess were okay. He hadn’t expected the worry he feels now, but he knows he will be awaiting a letter at Yu Dao if they are safe.

Prince Iroh is startled to discover that, while meeting with Master Pakku, the Avatar, his friends, his nephew and niece, and Mai had all disappeared.

As had his ship.

[redrobin-detective]

Delayed Mourning

Going Angst Day 5: Death

_________________________________________

It was 3pm when there was a knock on Maddie Fenton’s door. She huffed and set down the meal she’d been working on. Of course the one day she had time to pre-plan a nice meal from her family was the day she’d get interrupted. 

“Yes? May I help you?” Maddie asked, opening the door. She had expected a salesman. Possibly even a neighbor coming to complain, again, about the noise or the smells that came from Fentonworks. Instead she found a small woman who couldn’t have been much taller than 5 ft with dark brown hair tied up in a tight bun. She was wearing a sharp white shirt and suit jacket with a matching white skirt.

“Mrs. Fenton, hello,” the woman gave a polite little head nod. “I’m from the the Government Institute of Interdimensional Warfare though I hear the locals like to call us the Guys in White.” She said with a knowing smiling, “of course, as you know, it’s not only the guys who are interested in ghosts. May I come in?”

“Oh yes, hello,” Maddie blinked, opening the door to let the agent in. The petite woman stepped inside, her heels clicking on the hardwood floor. Her small frame, her oversized glasses and soft nature seemed so at odds with the meatheads Maddie usually found in the GIW. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“Perhaps,” the agent demurred. “It’s more there was something I wanted to inform you of. If you’re not too busy, may we sit down and talk? Your husband and children are not home.” Maddie thought that last statement was a bit odd, framed as a statement of fact rather than an inquiry but moved on. 

“Yes, Jack’s out of town visiting a relative and my kids won’t be back for a little while,” Maddie said. “Let me just finish putting this roast together, I’m almost done. Can I get you anything? Water? Tea?”

“No, thank you,” The woman said quietly. “And please, continue while you’re doing. Let me give you a little bit of background.” The agent adjusted her large glasses with her tiny hands. “Let me introduce myself, you may call me Agent S. I work primarily out of Washington for the Institute but sometimes I am deployed on site for... special cases. And, as I’m sure you’re aware, your town is very special.”

“Now, as you may have noticed, I am not particularly built like the normal Institute agents you have probably come across. That is because I do not work in the field but behind the scene in Investigations. My job is study the history and happenings of hauntings and spectral entities.”

“Oh that sounds fascinating,” Maddie beamed as she finished with her final preps and put the roast in the over. She looked over her shoulder at Agent S while she washed her hands. “Jack and I dabble a bit in history and folklore but we’re more versed in the hard sciences of ghosts.”

“Yes, I’ve read some of your papers, you and your husband truly are the frontrunners in the field,” Agent S nodded. Maddie preened at the praise and sat down, delighted to have a sophisticated conversation with someone in her field who she wasn’t married to. If more of those GIW agents were like Agent S then Maddie would get along a lot better with them. “So, Maddie, may I call you Maddie? What date and time did your portal start working?”

“It was August 28th,” Maddie said proudly. “It didn’t work at first when we first plugged it in. I’m afraid I don’t have an exact time it started up as we weren’t here. Jack was convinced one of the electrical conduction pieces wasn’t fully connected and was preventing ectoplasmic distribution. We ended up driving 4 hours to Springfield and back for some specialty parts only to find the portal working when we returned.”

“I can help you there,” Agent S said with a soft smile reaching into her white briefcase and pulling out several thick folders. She laid them out gently on the table and Maddie was unnerved by some of the information: schematics of Fentonworks, past and present financial records, transcripts of public statements. Her shoulders tensed when she saw Jazz and Danny’s names on some of the files. “Toll camera captured your vehicle on the Jane Addams Memorial Tollway at exactly 1:26pm on August 28th. We can confirm you and your husband’s vehicle traveled to Springfield and back via video feeds and credit card statements at 10:45pm that same day and were therefore out of the city all day.”

Maddie suddenly felt very trapped by the woman’s sharp grey eyes as she plucked a piece of paper and pressed it towards Maddie. 

“At 3:18pm, the majority of the residential power in town went out for a period of 2 and a half hours. The cause was determined to be from a massive power surge that blew out the transformer. You may recall being blamed for this outage given your history with previous outages but the news that you were out of town settled that argument. However, I was not convinced.” She pulled out another piece of paper and Maddie bristled to see it was a Casper High attendance sheet.

“Your daughter, Jasmine was at her final summer cram session which ran from 2pm until 5pm. I spoke to her tutors and she never left the whole time and, in fact, stayed late to help a fellow student work through her study materials. But what about your son?” Agent S asked with with a curious smile but her eyes belied the fact that she had her own answers. 

“How dare you spy on my family, on my children,” Maddie hissed, crumpling one of the papers in her fist. “Get out of my house, I will sue the pants off of your organization for this invasion of privacy! Get out!”

“Now Maddie, don’t you want to know how your son started up your Portal?” Agent S asked coyly, that drew Maddie up short. Danny? No, he couldn’t have possibly. He had no interest in their work, in fact, now that she thought about it, Danny had been sick that day. Agent S pulled out a set of blueprints for the Fenton Portal. Some small component inside the Portal was circled.

“You left at approximately 1pm and your daughter presumably left not long after. Phone records indicate Daniel called both Tucker Foley and Samantha Manson. Your neighbor, Mrs. Benson, saw them coming into your house not long after but before the 3pm power outage which I was able to triangulate did in fact originate from your home.” Agent S tapped the circled part of the inner portal mechanisms. “Now did you happen to push the on button in the Portal before plugging it in?”

“On button?” Maddie asked with a dry mouth, overwhelmed by the amount of information being thrown her way. All she could think about was how Danny hadn’t seemed sick when they’d left that afternoon but had looked awful when they returned. Would he have really gone downstairs and messed with the Portal? Had he gotten hurt? Been contaminated down there? Images of Vlad’s sickly visage after his accident flowed through her head. She should have paid more attention but she’d been so excited about the Portal working...

“It’s right here in the blueprints you submitted to the patent office, buried under dozens of other hardware bits. Its small, such a little thing compared to all the moving parts required to open up a dimensional portal. Daniel was a bright boy, his middle school records prove it. A bright mind, friends to impress, no parents around to chastise him... I think you can see where I’m going with this.”

“No, no,” Maddie said, burying her hands in her hair. “No, I’m not. You’re saying -what? - that my teenage son turned on the Portal when we were gone? No, my Danny wouldn’t lie to me about that... Why wouldn’t he say anything?”

“I don’t blame him for not mentioned in because, if my hunch is correct, he was inside the Portal when it turned on, killing him instantly,” Agent S said with a carefully neutral face. “I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news but I’m afraid this haunting has gone on long enough.”

“My child is alive!” Maddie screeched, standing up in her chair. “Danny is alive and healthy and he is not a ghost!”

“I will admit the evidence of how he died is circumstantial but the fact that Danny Fenton is deceased is not.” Maddie fell back into her chair as he legs gave out underneath her. 

She watched the agent put paper after paper in front of her and detailed all sorts of data about her son that Maddie, who lived in the same house as him, had missed. Unusually high ectosignatures picked up by GIW (and their own) detectors, Danny being spotted in some form before most ghost attacks, faked signatures of hers getting him out of nurses’ visits. Maddie barely felt alive herself as she stared at a red light camera photo of her baby sitting atop a light post late, late at night. His eyes were a toxic green color.

“I know this must be distressing as a mother but your child never left that basement, never attended high school and will never achieve his dream of working for NASA.” Agent S said with carefully measured sympathy as she gathered up her papers and put them back in her case. “But you are a brilliant scientist, unlike your husband, you should be able to look past your emotions and see that your child is gone and the ghost he left behind is dangerous.”

“My husband?” Maddie asked blankly, running a finger down Danny’s unnatural photograph.

“I approached Jack two days ago, mistakenly believing he would be the most understanding of you both. He refused to believe the evidence and was, in fact, going to warn your son’s ghost that we planned on taking him. He is safe but he presently being held at one of our facilities until the capture is complete.” Maddie should feel outraged at her husband’s kidnapping but all she could think about was the fact that her son was dead, dead, dead, killed by her own invention over a year ago and she never noticed. How could she not have noticed?

“Daniel’s ghost is extraordinary, not only able to pass as human so accurately for so long but immensely powerful. We need to make sure he doesn’t harm anyone else. Think of his friends who are probably being forced to aid him and keep his death quiet. Think of your husband, your daughter, living in the same house as a dangerous ghost.” Agent S dropped some of her professionalism and plucked the photo of Danny out of Maddie’s hands and replaced it with her own tiny hand. 

“I know this is impossible thing to ask but I must do it anyway, will you help me capture what remains of Danny? There is a chance with his charade exposed, he will be able to move on and so will you. You have been wronged, Maddie. You have been denied the right to process and grieve your child by his own ghost. But a delayed mourning is better than none. Danny’s death is a tragedy but please don’t let it become someone else’s.”

“Maybe he’s not-” Maddie’s breath hitched, “he’s never shown any signs of aggression. Jasmine spoke of benevolent spirits... maybe-” Agent S sighed roughly and retracted her hand to grab another photo from her case. Maddie was surprised when she held up a picture of Phantom. 

“Ignore the glow,” Agent S instructed. “Change his white hair to black, his green eyes to blue. Think of how often Phantom is spotted in your neighborhood, around Casper High. Remember how he always has his hands on your technology,” the agent frowned. “Think of how he grins when he sees you, like he knows something you don’t. Like it all just a big joke you’re not a part of.” Maddie felt like she’d been slapped.

“Your son is dead,” Agent S said more forcefully, throwing the picture of Phantom next to the spooky one of Danny. “And his ghost has taken his place, taunting you, stealing energy from your family, from the portal that killed him. Phantom’s power is increasing too rapidly and soon we won’t be able to contain him. It’s why I was brought in to identify his haunt so that he could be stopped before anyone else died.”

“I will state this plainly, I am giving you the chance to participate in putting your child to rest but you are not required for this operation. If you refuse, you will be confined with your husband until Phantom is taken down. Do not let this monster with your son’s face trick you any more. So I ask again, Maddie Fenton, will you help us stop Phantom from making a mockery of your son’s memory?”

XxX

“Mom! Jazz! I’m home!” Danny announced, kicking off his shoes and grabbing a paper out of his backpack as he walked into the kitchen with a grin. “And I have a present! Jazz’s tutoring paid off, look at this A I got on my history test! Well A- but a solid A-!” 

“Oh... that’s great,” Mom muttered quietly. She was sitting at the kitchen table, not cooking or tinkering with some gadget. Just sitting there quietly, twiddling her thumbs and not looking at him.

“Is everyone okay?” Danny asked, dropping his bag on the floor and walking over to his mother. “I saw Jazz at school but is Dad okay?”

“No, everything is not okay,” she said turning and looking at him with tear-filled eyes. “Someone died, someone I love dearly and I’m not ready to let them go,” she sniffed and wiped at her eyes. “But they've been gone for a long time, even if I’m just hearing about it now. I’m upset but it’s better to know and be grieve than to go on in ignorance, living a lie.”

Danny was about to ask who had died when something was jammed into his neck and he was shocked within an inch of his half life. His body spasmed to escape but his mother was gripping his arm to hold him in place. He transformed unconsciously but that only made it worse. He fell to the floor, ectoplasm leaking off his form as he could barely hold himself together.

“Mom,” he croaked, reaching for her despite everything. She stomped on his hand which was practically goo from such a vicious, destabilizing ectoplasmic shock.

“Don’t you ever call me that,” she hissed through angry tears. “I didn’t want to believe it but the proof is right in front of me you horrible, selfish ghost.” She kicked him in the side and half of him ended up on her boot. “How dare you, how dare you impersonate my son! How dare you string me along all this time, make me look like a fool who had to told that her own child was dead! I bet you just laughed and laughed at our stupid, human ignorance of what your were!”

“‘lease,” he begged through the ectoplasm in his mouth. “I’m still your....”

“My son is dead and he has been for a while,” Mom said, throwing the ecto-taser away from her. Danny vaguely heard the door being kicked in and in his rapidly diminishing vision, he saw black boots and white suits. “With you gone, I can finally come to terms with it and not be tormented by an inadequate replacement.” She turned her back to him. “Get that filth out of my house, I never want to see it again.”

“Of course,” a quiet feminine voice said as his goopy arms were restrained with ghost proof cuffs. “I know this is hard, Maddie but you made the right choice for your family and Danny’s memory. Jack will returned to you within the hour. I spoke to my superiors, for your cooperation, the Institute will take care of declaring Danny dead as well as covering costs for your boy to be laid to rest, the first step in moving on.”

“No, the first step will be removing that duplicitous monster from my home. It’s stolen enough of my baby’s life. Now please leave, I have - I have a funeral to plan.”

[silhouetteofacedar]

Fox Mulder, Closet Romantic Ch. 4: Man Pouts on Couch

Previous Chapter - AO3 - MSR, rated E

Mulder is not feeling lucky.

In hindsight, he should have suspected something was off today; Scully kept looking at her watch.

It’s Friday, March 13th, and he thought it’d be cute to invite Scully out for a drink again, make a little joke about it becoming a Friday the 13th tradition. This could work, he thinks. His plan is simple; ask her out every once in a while, for some reason or another, with the intention of eventually coming clean and setting up a proper date.

At five o’clock he stands up and stretches with performative nonchalance. “Buy you a drink, Scully?” he asks, cocking his head towards the calendar pinned to the office wall, surrounded by newspaper clippings and grainy photos.

She pauses with her arm halfway into the sleeve of her coat. “I…” She falters and presses her lips together, looking suddenly guilty.

“What is it?” he asks quietly, a pit growing in his stomach.

“I’d love to, Mulder, but I actually have a date tonight.”

The earth stops spinning and Mulder is thrown off balance, hurtling through the atmosphere.

“Oh,” he says softly. “That doctor guy?”

Scully nods, not meeting his gaze. “His name is Mark,” she says. “We’re getting sushi.” She looks up at him then, big blue eyes soft. “A rain check?” she asks hopefully.

She owns him; one look like that and he’d sell his soul to buy her a cup of shitty coffee. “Sure. Another time, then,” Mulder says, gathering up every scrap of composure he has left, patching together a smile for her. “Have fun.”

He goes home and throws himself face down onto the couch.

She has a date. A real date, with a presumably mentally stable human man with a high-value job. And a daughter. A ready-made family, just add water and stir. This Mark guy probably calls her Dana, asks her how her mother’s doing, feeds her bits of sashimi with no threat of aliens or shadow governments in sight. Maybe he’ll kiss her at the end of the night, softly with closed lips like a gentleman.

What stings the most is the fact that this Doctor Mark had the balls to tell Scully outright that he’s interested in her romantically, something Mulder has yet to do.

Mulder knows he should eat, but his stomach is churning and the idea of food sickens him. He’s being dramatic and irrational; it’s just one date. But the implications are weighty, the potential enormous.

He feels bad for being upset. This is good for her; she needs to get out of the basement, connect with other rational people, find some normalcy and balance in her life.

You need those things too, he hears her say in his head.

He brushes it aside. It’s different for him; he created this life for himself. He’s a collapsed star, a black hole of conspiracy and paranoia that sucks in everything that gets too close. The last thing he wants is for her to get lost in his darkness, swallowed by the void like some interstellar debris.

She’d told him that night in Rock Creek Park that she does’t blame him for what’s happened to her, but that doesn’t assuage his guilt. He carries the weight of what she calls her choices, a load she has no intention of sharing with him, awaiting no acknowledgement or thanks.

He’s doing it to himself.

Mulder whiles away the hours on the couch, gazing up at the constellations of pencil marks on his ceiling, tossing his basketball above his head. He drops it on his face twice.

He knows it’s probably only going to make him feel worse, but he’s a glutton for punishment; so at eleven-thirty that night he picks up the phone and calls Scully.

He waits for her to answer, his heart sinking lower with each ring. She’s not picking up. Is she still out? he thinks anxiously. The guy has a kid, so it’s unlikely that they’d stay out too late unless he’s arranged it with his babysitter…

“Hello?” Scully’s slightly husky voice cuts through his thoughts.

“Scully,” he says, tentative relief creeping into his body.

“Mulder, what is it?” she asks. “It’s late. For normal people, anyway. Are you alright?”

“‘M’ fine,” he assures he. “Just couldn’t sleep.”

He hears her hum in understanding. Late night phone calls between them aren’t uncommon, after all. “Have you tried counting sheep?” she asks, not unkindly. “Or slowing your breathing down, focusing on the cadence of inhales and exhales like I showed you?”

He’s wide awake, sitting upright on his couch, still in the slacks and wrinkled button-down he wore to the office that day. “Yes,” he lies. “It’s not helping. There’s too much going on in my head right now.”

“You work too much,” she says gently. “And yet not enough, when deadlines are involved. We’ve got an impressive paperwork backlog-”

“Can we not talk about work right now?” He reaches down and unties his shoes. “Otherwise I’ll never get to sleep.”

“Right.” There’s rustling on her end. She’s in bed, he realizes.

“Did I wake you, Scully?” he asks, trying to hide his surprise.

“It’s fine, Mulder, I was only dozing,” she replies.

“Oh, how was the date?” he asks, as though it only just occurred to him, instead of being the only thing he’s thought about all night.

“It was nice,” she responds, and he drops his head onto the back of the couch in defeat. Shit. Shit shit shit shit-

“We talked about medicine, about cancer, loss. His daughter’s name is Amanda,” she continues. “Her mother - his wife - died when Mandy was only two, so he’s mostly raised her alone.”

“That’s rough,” Mulder says softly. Please don’t make me feel bad for this guy, Scully, I can’t bear it, he thinks.

“Mhm,” she agrees. “And his work at the hospital is pretty grueling, so his mother helps out a lot. I… I told him about Emily.”

“How’d that go?” Mulder asks, concerned. “It’s not the most… plausible-sounding story.”

“I was vague,” she replies. “All I really said was that I had recently reconnected with a child I’d been separated from, right before she died. He didn’t ask for details; he could probably tell it was a fresh wound.”

They’re silent for a moment.

“Do you think you’ll see him again?” Mulder asks quietly. Somehow he already knows what she’s going to say, and he braces himself for the sting of her words as they pierce his heart.

“I… I think I will,” Scully says, sounding distant. “I mean, it’s worth a shot, right?”

She deserves this. She deserves a chance at something ordinary, safe, comfortable.

“Maggie Scully didn’t raise a quitter,” he says with a watery smile she’ll never see.

She chuckles. “No, I suppose she didn’t,” Scully muses. He hears her yawn. “I’m tired out, Mulder. Think you can sleep now?”

“I’ll try,” he says. He’s surprised to feel his eyes beginning to burn with unshed tears. “Thanks for talking to me,” he adds.

“Anytime. Sleep well,” she says warmly, and the line goes dead.

He supposes he brought this on himself by keeping his feelings hidden. He waited too long, playing it safe. He wanted to gauge her feelings before he made any overt moves, and someone else beat him to it.

It’s just one date. But there’s going to be more. By the sound of it, she wants there to be more.

There’s no way he’s going to sleep well tonight.

He’s in a sour mood when he’s summoned to the Gunmen’s… den? lair? headquarters? the next afternoon, by way of one of their patented cryptic phone calls.

Byers unfastens the dozen locks on the door and lets him inside. “Mulder,” he says, ushering him in. “Good to see you.”

Mulder flops down in a rickety desk chair, exhaustion permeating his muscles. “I’m not up for being social today, boys,” he warns. “You said you had information for me?”

“We took the liberty of looking into Agent Scully’s new… uh, friend,” Byers says.

“For safety reason,” Langly adds, seeing Mulder’s lips purse.

“She’s precious cargo,” Frohike says, wiggling his eyebrows.

“How did you find him?” Mulder asks. “I didn’t even know his first name until yesterday.”

“Don’t insult us with your surprise,” Frohike mutters. “We’re experts.”

“We knew he’s a part of the parish Scully attends-“ Byers begins.

“And we knew he’s an ER doc, has a 6 year old daughter, and a dead wife,” Langly cuts in. “That’s plenty to go on.”

“I don’t need to know more than that,” Mulder says, suddenly feeling guilty. “It’s not my business.”

“Maybe not, but we have the info,” Frohike says. “Look, all you need to know is that he seems legit. Name’s Einolander, if you were curious.”

“I wasn’t,” Mulder lies, taking a sunflower seed out of his pocket and biting it pensively.

“Of course not,” Byers says, sounding completely unconvinced.

“You alright, Mulder?” Langly asks. “You look rough.”

“Of course he does,” Frohike hisses in the least subtle whisper of all time. “Scully’s dating someone that’s not him. Cut the guy some slack.”

“You guys don’t know shit,” Mulder grumbles, then backtracks, running his hands over his face. “I’m sorry. I, uh... didn’t sleep well.”

“It’s okay, man,” Langly says.

Frohike nods sagely. ”We know how you feel about her. This can’t be easy for you.”

Mulder wilts in his chair. “How did you know?” he asks pathetically, realizing the jig is up. Has he really been so obvious this whole time? Fucking hell.

“Look, knowing things is our business,” Byers explains. “And we know you. We’ve been around the block with you a few times, and nobody’s meant this much to you. Not even Diana.”

“Plus, Agent Scully is a smokeshow, and you have eyes,” Frohike adds. Byers gives him a jab with his elbow. “Hey, I stand by that,” he declares, rubbing his arm.

“Well thanks anyway, fellas,” Mulder says, standing. “I should get going. The walls in my apartment won’t stare at themselves.”

“Do you want the file we put together on the guy?” Byers asks. “We can make copies.”

Mulder shakes his head. “Keep it. Draw a mustache on his photo or something.” He picks up his coat and slings it over his shoulder. “You kids have fun.”

“If you need anything, just flag us down,” Frohike says, patting Mulder’s back before unlatching the door.

Mulder steps out the door, then turns back. “How old is this guy?”

“Forty-one,” Byers says, flipping through the file. “Five-foot-ten, dark blond hair, brown eyes. Blood type-”

Mulder holds up a hand. “I don’t want to know. Bye, guys.”

He gets a petty, juvenile satisfaction from the fact that he’s two inches taller and four years younger than Dr. Einolander. It’s short-lived, but at this point he’ll take what he can get.

Because he can’t get Scully.