#put all the clever people with no impulse control in one place and let them get bored

[dawn-venus-devotee]

Gem Of Rome

Ch 1: A Spring Surprise & Celebrations Align

Word count: 2711 words

Britalia’s POV

It was a warm afternoon, the comfortable breeze blowing through the city of Rome, caressing the skin of her peoples. Another day to pass and yet another victory to be celebrated, the great war general Marcus Acacius’ most recent victory in specific, his claim to victory in Numidia. Oh my sweet, sweet uncle… bloodshed does not suit him in my honest opinion, but his position in the Empire is a necessary evil. He is entrusted by both Emperors, Geta and Caracalla, which is in mine, his and Lucilla’s best interests.

I was sitting at the vanity Lucilla had built for me in my private quarters in the home we lived in, pampering myself and beautifying myself even further as I spoke to my Uncle Acacius as he sat on the edge of my bed.

“Uncle Acacius, I am not saying I do not understand why you keep me out of reach from Geta and Caracalla. But I do ask you to hear me out, please.”

My dear Uncle Acacius, a man in his early fifties, who has faced many battles and wars, gave me a stern look before speaking.

“Speak plainly, I am listening.”

I let out a small hum at Acacius’ words and nodded my head a bit before speaking, staring into the mirror of my vanity as I brushed my hair.

“Geta and Caracalla are childish, impulsive, ill tempered and lack rationality…. I am someone who is able to balance them out, rule from the inside out and make all the decisions, and work my way to Empress by marriage. If I am to marry both of them, so be it. Plus, you are General Marcus Acacius, a true pietas ... They owe you every victory Rome has had since you came to be. They are indebted to all you’ve done, you have their trust in abundances….”

He listened to my words carefully, nodding, deep in thought. He then looked at me and spoke.

"I don't deny that you have good logic, Britalia."

He paused for a moment.

"You understand that they are not easy men to handle, to deal with. They are strong and stubborn."

He paused and thought about it for a moment more, letting out an exhausted sigh.

"Geta is the more mature one of the two, more well-mannered, with control. He is more rational and logical. As for Caracalla…he is older, yet still young and foolish, not much good to him. He lets his ego and temper get in the way." 

Ah yes, the aforementioned Emperors. They were rather an…. Interesting pair, those two. Geta seemed to be more level headed of the two, I would, I suppose, and Caracalla… he seemed quite temperamental. Though I would suppose he does not wish to be that way, something tells me so in my heart and soul. I had met them briefly a handful of times, but today… Today I was determined to make one everlasting impression on the Emperors, one that would linger in their deepest of thoughts and be burned in their minds like an emotional brand. 

I turned a bit to face Acacius, raising a brow as I continued to brush my hair, my soft blush pink dress pooling a bit at the bottom onto the floor.

“Yet Caracalla is the older of the two, interesting….but I assure you, uncle, I have this under control. I am known as “The Gem of Rome” for a reason. The only concern I have is for that slippery little oil covered eel Macrinus ... He's selfish, greedy and highly manipulative…. but I can play the long game….”

Acacius looked at me, clearly a bit surprised by my words.

"Ah…you’ve caught on to Macrinus’ tendencies, then." He said with a bit of approval. 

He got up and walked to me, putting a hand on my shoulder in a fatherly manner.

"You are quite the clever and intelligent woman, my dear niece."

He lifted my chin gently and looked into my eyes, then sighed heavily before speaking once more.

"As wise as I know you are, you are still a young woman, only twenty three. I don’t know if you can handle their childishness, stubbornness and impulsiveness."

I let out a small hum and set my brush down on my vanity before getting up from my seat, sitting down next to Acacius on my bed and placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Uncle, they lack a paternal figure, yes, but what else do Geta and Caracalla lack…?”

He put his hand over my own hand, looking at me with understanding.

"A woman to rule over them. They need someone with brains, someone with wit, someone to humble them, keep them from being completely impulsive to a fault." 

I let out a chuckle, nodding my head before looking outside to see dusk stretch across the sky from dark purple to pink to burnt orange….I let out a hum before looking back at Acacius.

“It is getting late, Uncle, I would suggest you spend time with Aunt Lucilla. I’m certain she would like that before retiring for the night.”

He looked at the sky and nodded in agreement. He took my hand in his, and gently squeezed it before getting up.

"You are right, my dear niece. I shall take my leave and have dinner with Lucilla. I trust you’ll be alright for the night?"

I smile and nod my head before speaking once more, returning the squeeze to Acacius’ hand.

“I will be. All of us will need to be well rested for tomorrow, as will be the celebration of your victory in Numidia. It will be at Senator Thraex’s home, prepared for the most lavish celebration almost to the point of obnoxiousness.”

Acacius gave me an endearing chuckle and nodded his head in return.

"I have been prepared for Thraex's obnoxious and over the top celebrations. He is quite the…odd character, to say the least."

He walked to the door and looked back at me for a moment.

"I shall see you tomorrow, my dear niece."

 As he spoke, he did so with a warm smile as he left your room and closed the door behind him.

~ (THE NEXT DAY) ~

It was the next day and Uncle Acacius and I were just arriving to Senator Thraex’s home, walking in and greeting the elder man who was about in his seventies. I was dressed in a flowy yet fitting silk aquamarine gown, as well as adorned in gold jewelry. I smiled a charming smile and grabbed a hold of Thraex’s hands.

“Senator Thraex, lovely to see you once again, it’s been ages. Thank you for hosting the celebration of my uncle’s victory here in your home.”

As every one of Rome’s most elite people gathered inside Senator Thraex’s home, I could feel my senses become slightly overwhelmed by a multitude of sights, sounds and smells. Music, art, concubines, food and wine…. It certainly pays off to be part of the Senate. 

Thraex gave me a wide, cheery smile in return and took my hands in his.

"It is my pleasure to host, my dearest. You look absolutely stunning tonight." 

He looked behind me and saw my uncle behind me.

"Ah, General Marcus Acacius, you are here as well! It is an honor and a joy to have you here! Come, come! Let us feast!"

He hooked an arm with mine and started leading me inside.

"I hope you are ready to have the night of your life! Food, drink, music and lots of laughter await!"

I let out a chuckle and as Thraex wandered off to go grab something, I then looked at Acacius and raised a small brow before speaking, my eyes looking off into the distance as I saw Geta and Caracalla surrounded by concubines. I grab a chalice full of wine before downing it like water.

“Liquid courage, if you will….I am going to go to the brothers, make an impression….watch from afar, Uncle…?”

Acacius looked over at the twin brothers, seeing them surrounded by concubines. He sighed a bit, knowing that it would go downhill very quickly.

"Very well, my dear niece." He said with a weary tone.

He grabbed a chalice of wine of his own and watched me as I made my way towards the brothers.

I nodded my head at Acacius before walking towards Geta and Caracalla, a charming smile on my face as my hands were in front of me, my gaze shifting between the both of them equally and my tone sweet like honey.

“Emperor Geta, Emperor Caracalla….a pleasure to see you both, it has been far too long. I cannot thank you enough for coordinating this celebration for my uncle, General Acacius. He is truly a remarkable man, is he not…? But you two….you two are generous emperors for even allowing this….I thank the both of you….”

The brothers sat back with their arms crossed, giving each other knowing looks and glances as they heard me approach. When I stopped before them, both of them looked down at me.

Geta had a sly smirk on his face, while Caracalla had a cocky smile.

Geta, the younger yet more mature twin, was the one to address me, his voice deep and charming.

"Ah, the beautiful and lovely niece of the great General Acacius. It is a pleasure to see you again!"

Caracalla chuckled and looked me up and down, a glint of playful mischief in his eyes before speaking in a cocky yet sly tone.

"You look more beautiful than the last time we saw you. Quite the woman you've grown to be." 

Geta gave his brother an annoyed glance to shut him up, before looking back down at me, his own gaze admiring my beauty.

"You have grown into quite a fine and lovely lady, Britalia. You are just as your uncle described. Beautiful, smart, and very charming."

I let out a small chuckle and fiddle with the rings on my fingers as my eyes flutter for a moment to savor the taste, before swallowing and speaking once more, letting out a hum and smiling.

“My Uncle, he….he has been the one to raise me and he has only taught me the best. Manners, humanity, knowledge ... I, Britalia Marciana, owe everything to him, every single thing.  And he dares have the gall to be so modest. I still thank you greatly, Geta, Caracalla…my Emperors…”

With my free hand, I grab their hands gently, kissing their Emperor rings as a sign of respect.

Both Geta and Caracalla watched and listened intently to me, admiring my beauty and elegance. Geta smirked a bit as I spoke of my uncle, while Caracalla chuckled at me kissing their Emperor rings.

"Your uncle is a very humble man." Caracalla said.

"Of course, he is." 

Geta responded in agreement. He looked at me closely and smiled.

"He has done a good job in raising you, my dear." He said smoothly. "You truly are a gem to Rome, as he has described."

Caracalla, the more childish and impulsive twin, spoke next, his tone full of cocky confidence.

"You grew up to be a fine and beautiful young lady. You will surely make a good wife one day."

He paused and smirked as he looked me over. He spoke with a teasing tone.

"Perhaps to two men even."

I let out a slight exhale as I feel my face ever so slightly flush at both Geta and Caracalla’s words, feeling myself become flattered by them both.

“My dear Emperors, you flatter me both….”

As I heard a few servants shuffle about with a painting, I remembered something, letting go of their hands before standing next to the painting.

“Oh, yes, I remember ... As a token of my appreciation to the both of you, I offer you this painting I did over the span of weeks…please accept it.”

As the painting was revealed to both Geta and Caracalla, it showed a large and greatly detailed, realistic painting of them both, showing them in striking resemblances to the gods, such as Apollo and Bacchus. Every detail, every brush stroke….it was perfect, making them look like striking and ethereal gods.

The brothers stood a bit speechless as they looked at the painting. They both looked very surprised and a bit in awe of my level of talent. They both admired the details, the colors, the way it was so realistic.

Geta was the first to recover and he let out an impressed whistle.

"This is magnificent." He said, sounding rather impressed.

Caracalla looked away from the painting to me, grinning in admiration.

"You are very talented, Britalia."

Geta nodded his head in agreement.

"Not only beautiful, but talented as well." He said with a smirk.

Caracalla looked me up and down once more, admiration in his gaze.

"Indeed. Quite the complete woman." He said arrogantly, as if to say he wanted me for himself.

Geta rolled his eyes at Caracalla's arrogance, but he still agreed with the statement. He had similar thoughts as well. He looked at me with an appraising gaze.

"Your uncle said you were wise as well." He said in a smooth tone.

"He was not lying." Caracalla added with a cocky smirk.

As I heard all of the honeyed words from both Geta and Caracalla, I could feel a stir of something within me….something indescribable, something never felt before….I didn’t realize that tactically downplaying myself would get me this far….As I glanced between Geta and Caracalla, I could see the both of them almost…softening….almost as if they were putting their petty sibling rivalry aside….

“Your words, they truly are flattering and mean much to me…my Emperors…..Perhaps I will see the both of you tomorrow at the Veneralia festival….?”

The brothers exchanged glances and subtle smirks as they watched me. They were both equally impressed and intrigued by my very being, though Caracalla was a bit more blunt in expressing that than Geta was.

Geta looked my body up and down once more, his gaze lingering a bit too long on my curves.

"Yes, you will see us both there." Geta said smoothly. The twins nodded their heads in agreement.

Caracalla smiled a bit cockily, eyeing me up. He looked me up and down, almost as if he was imagining what I looked like underneath the aquamarine colored gown.

"It will be a…pleasure to see you again." He said in a low tone, his gaze lingering on me for a bit to emphasize that he meant more than just see in a literal sense.

I smile and nod my head before slightly bowing and making my way back to my Uncle Acacius, raising a brow at him and a small grin on my face. I nodded at him as if to silently say that I did it. I then grab my chalice and refill it with wine before taking a sip.

“The Gem of Rome knows not of failure….”

Acacius had seen the interaction from a distance, and he was rather impressed by how well I interacted with the two. He was surprised by how well I had  handled the brothers.

When I walked up to him, he gave me a nod in a silent approval, and he smirked at my statement.

"You don't fail indeed, my dear niece." He said, a hint of pride in his voice.

He then looked back at the brothers, seeing them both watching me with admiring gazes. They were clearly very interested in me. Geta was a bit more subtle and collected in the way he looked at me, while Caracalla looked at my existence over almost with greed, almost as if he was undressing my very soul with his eyes.

Acacius gave me an amused smirk and chuckle as he spoke.

"Both brothers are clearly interested in you. We shall see tomorrow at the Veneralia festival ....”

Upon hearing Acacius’ words, I felt a small smirk tugging at the corner of my lips, taking another sip of wine from my chalice. After swallowing and remaining silent for a moment, I finally spoke.

“I plan to make the festival truly unforgettable, Uncle… ”

[therealityhelix]

Shards of the Nexus: Applesauce pt. 3

And so, he fucked it all up.

@cardwrecks​  @captainbaddecisions​

“Excuse the fuck me!?!”

The anger surged back up, mixed with indignation to forge an alloy of outrage. How fucking dare-

There were rules. There were agreements. And maybe they weren't spoken, but they were understood. Don't fuck with Helix. She had earned it. Over time, she had proven herself clever, resourceful, and trustworthy. She had passed every test. She had their approval, she had Arkham's approval, and this little Riddlet thought he had the right? This nobody thought he could take her away from him-them?

He'd be lucky if Swag didn't put a fist right in one of his pretty brown eyes, and he'd better damn well hope nobody else ever found out. Swag wasn't even close to the most impulsive or vindictive among them. She had Arkham's approval, Detective's approval, his approval, and oh no, oh fuck, he'd just realized that their hierarchy of accepted authority wasn't topped by a duet, it was a trinity, and that's why all the new blood had come to introduce themselves to him, oh no, the responsibilities were already here, had already been here, oh fuck, he had a chance with Narci years ago but had turned the kid away outright, oh no, this was why he should never be given responsibility!

Helix had left her seat, backed away with concern scrawled between her brows. Swag realized he was clutching the edge of the bar with a white-knuckled grip, furious snarl twisting his face.

Okay, okay, okay, calm the fuck down. Save those plans for later, or better, discard them entirely. Don't bust the guy in the face. Don't slip the info to Puzzles and then stand back to watch the fireworks. Absolutely don't let Unswag know. Just calm. The fuck. Down.

“Sorry.” he said, evening out his tone into something almost fake. “That caught me by surprise. He...he does know that wouldn't work anyway, doesn't he?”

“He knows I can't be captured like that, yes. I guess I shouldn't have bothered taking these but I want that machine to tear itself to ruins in front of him when he tests it. I...I suppose I'm a little ticked off about this.”

“You oughta be livid. Nah, don't listen to me. Why would he do this, anyway?”

“I think...I scared him. He was going on about how he wasn't safe to be around, and then he insinuated that I wouldn't be able to defend myself or my daughter from him, which is ridiculous! And I tried to tell him, but he wouldn't listen, so I showed him instead.”

“Showed him?”

Ask her to show you what she showed me. But be sure you really want to understand.

“I froze him in place. Not like, with cold, but...here.”

She picked an apple out of the basket and tossed it in the air. He watched it follow it's arc and then-

-just stop. The fruit hung helplessly in midair.

“It's the same principle that lets me fly.” she explained. “Control over the movement of objects through space. I stopped his ability to move. I didn't hurt him, I just wanted him to understand that if he really did try to hurt us, I could stop him without any pain at all. So that he didn't have to be afraid of that. Instead, he's afraid of me now. So much so that he built a machine specifically to kill me.”

“Some people act damn weird when they're afraid. I mean, U.S. is still dealing with the shit he saw your alternate selves do.”

Probably shouldn't go into too much detail there! He was just glad they had this Helix. The others really did sound terrifying.

Her brow crinkled.

“Edward...there are no alternate me's. I'm not like you guys; I wasn't a foundational figure in my world.”

“But...Unswag said he saw a bunch of different scenarios...?”

“Oh, yes! That's all me. Your world is a little weird, you know? It's like-oh,it's hard to explain-like, stacked? There's a bunch of, um, mini worlds branching off? Like the leaves of a plant, growing off the main stem, where we are. But they're all connected back to here, reflecting the things that happen here, and I exist in each one simultaneously. Different parts of me, but not separate from me. More like different facets of a diamond. Technically the same object, but different faces of it, with the light reflecting through differently.”

“They're all the same you?” his stomach was sinking into adrenaline dread. She was capable? Of the things Unswag had said? “Are you aware of what they do?”

“Not really? They act in whatever scenario how I would act in whichever scenario here. Whatever seems right at the time. When I come, they come, when I go, they go, because they're reflections rather than separate entities. So naturally, they would have helped you out with him in every world, because that's what I would do.”

“Helped me out. Yeah.”

He grasped the floating apple, which didn't budge, but he could feel the instant she released her control over it, and its weight returned to his hand. He grabbed a plate and placed the apple on it.

“So if I asked, could you skin this apple with magic?” he asked, silken slyness lacing his voice. He just had to see...

“Uh, sure?” she said, hesitant at the change in his tone. “Vegetable peeler's just as good, but...”

“I just wanna see.”

She didn't move, didn't even blink, but the apple's skin unzipped itself, peeling away in a single piece like a discarded dress.

She flayed me alive.

“Wow, that's really clean.” Why hadn't he known about this? Was his twin right? That his own refusal to get involved might have brought them all to danger? The implications were chilling.

“Thank you!” she brightened at the compliment. “I practice a lot.”

“Bet you do. Could you cut it too?”

Again, that concerned look. Swag held his phone under the bar, texting rapidly.

:Did she try to kill you?:

A moment passed.

:I'm still alive, so no. Tread carefully.:

He glanced back up, and the apple fell into two perfect halves. Again, she hadn't moved. Were all those previous 'magical' gestures simply for his benefit?

“Amazing.” He picked up one half and bit into it. “The juice ain't even running. How'd you do that?”

“Oh, I just released the bonds between the cells. That's how I got the skin off too.”

I saw her cut glass with her mind.

“So you can do all this just by thinking about it?”

“Pretty much. It does take effort, but there's so much ambient magic here that I could do practically anything. Your world is very refreshing.”

“Cool. So. You could do this to a person, couldn't you.”

She recoiled, shocked at the near-accusation.

“What? No! I don't do that! Why would you even say that?”

He held out the half apple.

“U.S. saw you do this to him.” Gestured at the apple skin. “Saw you do that too. And a whole lot of other stuff.”

“No, I don't do that!” she protested.

“But you can. And some part of you did, because you're telling me that all those pieces are really just one you. There's some part of you that can justify it. And look, I'm pissed at him too, but you didn't tell Codec what you were gonna do, did you? You just did it.”

“He wouldn't listen!”

“And that justified it. I've been seeing you get angry more and more lately, and I'm wondering if you shouldn't step back from the stress for a while. I'm wondering if we all shouldn't.”

“I'm allowed to be angry.” she said.

“Yeah, you are. But you're more than just human. I mean, we're all kinds of crazy here, but you're the only one who can tear a man to shreds just by getting mad at him.”

“I would never...did I? No, I don't kill people, Edward!”

“How many?” he asked, watching the denial transmogrify into offense.

“You first.” she shot back.

Did everything in the room just move a little, or was that his imagination?

What was he doing? This was insane. If he really thought she was capable of turning him inside out, why was he challenging her?

Maybe Unswag wasn't the only one unsettled by all the recent happenings. He'd been falling into bad old habits, all the way up to this: trying to provoke a possibly very dangerous reaction out of someone he actually cared about, and he couldn't give any reason why, other than just needing to know if she would or not. He'd tested his hirelings in similar ways, in the past. How could he have let himself fall back so far as to treat her like that?

“You know what, actually I'm way out of line here.” he admitted. Reel it it, reel it in. When you recognized you were being stupid, it was best just to stop. “I'm sorry babe. I think there's something up with me. When U.S. told me what he saw, I couldn't believe it. But I don't think he was lying either.”

“I...would like to speak with him. At some point. Not now.” she said, barely mollified. “I don't know how solid the secondary realities in this world are. If what he saw was real, or just possibilities.”

“He seemed pretty convinced. And you've got no recollection of this at all?”

“None. I know I reflect like that when I come here, but I don't see what happens in those reflections. I can't imagine being like that. Edward, I really don't do things like that. I know I can. That's part of why I don't.”

He offered her the other half of the apple. She reached out to take it, still tense. He should really fix that.

He snatched up her hand, intending to lay an apologetic kiss on the knuckles, but she yanked back with an agonized cry.

“What? What is it?” He reached out over the bar, but she backed away, clutching her hand. He could see the skin bubbling on her palm. “Shit! What happened?”

“What is that?” she demanded in a pained voice. “On your hand? What is that?”

The wire. He'd forgotten he was wearing it.

“It's just some weird metal-”

“Nth metal! How do you have that? Why do you have that?”

“It was recommended...”

And the dealer had gone on an on about its special properties, like a New Age shop trying to sell a crystal. But 'magic cancellation' was on that list, and it had grabbed his attention. The idea of never having to worry about Grays again was so very tempting. He hadn't expected it to hurt her!

“Did you know what it does?”

“Not that it would burn!”

Betrayal clouded over the pain in her face. He had just admitted that he knew it would neutralize her, after all, just not that it would hurt. A tacit lack of trust.

The apples in the basket, melted into goo. Every piece of glass in the room cracked, and Helix drew further away. Wide eyed, they both looked around frantically at the glass, the mirrors, the bottles. With clear effort around the obvious pain in her hand, she resealed most of the glass, even now kindly saving him a huge mess.

She backed close to the door.

“Maybe you're right.” she said, voice flat and lifeless. “Maybe I need to step away. Away from the stress. Away from...all this. Maybe it's time.”

“Wait. Wait, babe, this is my fault-”

He scurried around the bar, apple dripping from his fingers. Something in him told him that he couldn't let her leave now, or he might never see her again.

“I just got too caught up-”

“Take care of yourself Swag. I'll see you when I see you.”

All she had to do was step through the door, and she was gone, disappeared into nothing.

But she'd taken something with her, and it hurt to lose. That precious little thing that let him know he was special, now stripped from him. His identity. His name.

He stepped through the door, back and forth, closing his eyes and willing himself to follow, but it didn't work. That magical pathway was closed to him.

Apple dribbled all over the bar, and he drew despondent fingers through the mush, brought them to his tongue. He hated how good it tasted, how his reflection replicated in the crazed glass of the one mirror she hadn't fixed. How much potential bounty had melted out of his life, as a result of his projecting his own self destruction? He was afraid of what she could do? Of what she had done to U.S.? How much of that was actually his fault? How many times had he stood back and, as his twin had said 'just watched', instead of doing anything? What was he actually afraid of?

That she could kill him? Of course she could! She didn't even need magic for that, just the will! Of course she could kill him! And U.S. could choke him to death tomorrow, and he just might when he found out what happened here! And someone could shoot him in the face, or he could get thrown off another building, or hit by a car, or die in a fire. A Gray could magic him into jumping off a cliff, or his body could just stop. Every second could be his last; it was why he'd embraced the philosophy of hedonism in the first place. If happiness was truly his to create, then why did he keep doing this?

Because it wasn't death he was actually afraid of. It was failure. It was loss. It was that happiness wasn't only his, its creation was shared, which meant another person could influence it.

And sometimes-every time-he was perversely driven to break it himself, before anyone else could wrest that control from him. It drove him to neglect, to obsess, to provoke. To destroy.

Before anyone else could.

?~?~?~?~?

artist: @cardwrecks​

[ilovereadingandstuff]

OMG, I was looking for something among my previous posts and, looking at this one in especific that was reblogged, I took notice of something:

The positions in front of the noodle bowl of the protagonists of this episode contrast eachother to show something.

What is that 'something' i'm talking about? First, let me explain what it is shown in the screenshots above:

Cheng Xiaoshi stands in the same position where Lin Zhen is (black-haired woman), who we know by the story, is the chef of the Xialin Noodles House, who retired first from the business and was seen as the 'antagonist' for most of the episode because of her 'unpredictable moves' that threaten the Xialin Noodles House's maintenance in the market and her secret recipe for cooking noodles.

In the other hand, we have Lu Guang standing in the same position where Yu Xian, the client (blond/brown golden[?]-haired woman) who asked for the needed info of the recipe and leading to the time travel executed by the boys, and was seen as the 'innocent victim of her ex-partners change' related to their Noodle House.

Why did I used so many quotation marks you may ask? well, because as the end of the episode is revealed to us, the one who actually changed was Yu Xian, the client, and not Lin Zhen, as is intended to be seen in the beggining. Yu Xian is who became ambitiious with the development of their company and lost the focus and importance of 'cooking to bring happiness' and transformed their shared business into an industry meant for production and make money, soulless.

Why did I take notice of this? maybe it has already been said, but the way the boys share places with their clients on this episode, contrasting and making parallels of the story, It became interesting to me to notice that:

Lu Guang is Yu Xian: the one meant to be seen as the 'innocent' when is the one who actually changed

While Cheng Xiaoshi is Lin Zhen: the one meant to be seen as 'the problem' but is actually the one who never changed or did something wrong.

Considering what we know from the two seasons we have gotten until know, I think this is pretty clever forshadowing, but simbolic, scene.

From the start, I'm not gonna lie, I though CXS was the one who was meant to be the 'problem' related to time travelling, considering his ability desired by the villians and his little self-control on impulsive actions (which we know that has changed at s2 final). But later on, I realized that CXS is actually not that. He's the one who, yes, has caused the main conflicts, but has also given them a resolution, who for just existing is that people (i mean, the real antagonists like the black-haired misterious guy, the twin brothers, Quan Jin, etc) has put an eye on him.

While, in contrast, Lu Guang, is the one who started as the 'background character' for most of the series, who stayed at the sidelines, the one who the plot itself tried to show as the 'unimportant character', when, in reality, he is the one who changed. He's is, probably, the one who created the whole plot of the story, the one who has changed timelines at least more than once.

In conclusion: whatever that, at first impression, seems to be one way, actually could be another way who one could not even expect to be that way.

Lu Guang is the one who is meant to be seen as the innocent nobody, but is the one who actually set off everything that has happened, while Cheng Xiaoshi, who is meant to be the problematic, is actually the victim of all this.

Clarification: I am NOT saying neither Yu Xian nor Lu Guang are some kind of bad people or antagonists as evil persons, but the ones opposites to their respective partners.

I'm sorry but...

WHY THEY END THE EPISODE RIGHT AT THIS MOMENT?!?!?!

[cozycottagetarot]

Pick a Pile: Your Next 10 Days

Piles 1-4 starting from left to right.

This is a general reading intended for many so not everything may resonate. Usual disclaimer at bottom.

Feedback is appreciated, and I'd love to know if you find/found any of the things from your pile coming/came true.

P I L E 1

Difficulties or obstacles you may face: The Roane Mermaid

The Roane Mermaid card actually doesn’t represent any obstacles, however two necessary bits of advice attached are 1.) do not be afraid to ask for help and 2.) concentrate on what needs to be done.

How you’ll be successful in obtaining your hopes and wishes: The Right Whale

The Right Whale is about focus, understanding and intuition. Some actions associated with this card are considering your values, reminding yourself (or figuring out) what direction you’re heading, and doing what it takes to get there. This card is also about finding support in close friends and/or relatives, but be careful of putting your trust in or relying on someone who has commitments elsewhere.

Potential things in the next 10 days: The Mermaele, The Mermaids Glove, The Sith Mermaid, The Water Nymph, The Nix, The Common Dolphin, The Nixie, The Gray Whale

A wish (big or small) being granted. Being mindful of impulses. Be cautious of gaining one desire only to ‘throw off’ the whole plan. Fun approaching. Someone declaring feelings for you. Friendly contest. Being rewarded for a small act of kindness. A happy ending in love. Financial wealth. Someone may be deceiving you or trying to ride on your coattails. Holding on to your original plans. Someone around you draining your energy. Intuition. Success in making the most of your potential. Focusing on yourself. A new chapter of any sort. Travel abroad.

Common/Duplicate Messages: Holding on to your original plans. A wish fulfillment. Listen to your intuition. Asking for/accepting help. A new romance.

Affirmations & Advice from the cards: Faith sees the horizon beyond the wave. | The pathway to a dream is one of sacrifice | Talk happiness and happiness will gravitate towards you. | Lose not a tide and waste no time. | The power that creates and sustains you heals. | The first to wisdom is understanding. | Calm waters reflect clearer images than rough waters. | You never know what great idea may arise in your sleep. | Your soul will build what it is trained to expect. | To give and receive genuine love brings a gift of happiness.

P I L E 2

Difficulties or obstacles you may face: The Killer Whale

The Killer Whale is about exploitation and deception as the Killer Whale’s appearance makes it look smaller allowing them to fool their prey. Your advice here is to 1.) keep a clever mind and dive deeper and look beyond what is presented to you. 2.) remain adaptable to your environment and resources.

How you’ll be successful in obtaining your hopes and wishes: Proteus

Avoid taking on anything that may only become troublesome or a burden. Guard your interest and do not be intimidated. Success lies in your sensible adaptability.

Potential things in the next 10 days: The Roane Mermaid, The Hooper, The Nixie, The Bottlenose Dolphin, The Striped Dolphin, The Black Dolphin, The Humpback Whale, The Vodyanoi Sprite

Focusing on yourself. A new chapter or renewing of a new chapter of your life. Help from someone in a high position. A new sense of courage. Concentrating on what needs to be done. Knowing what you want and getting it. A changing relationship or a new relationship from an unlikely meeting (doesn’t have to be romantic). Shifting your appearance. Invitation to travel. Someone potentially trying to seduce you. Many interested in you, but question their motives. A surprise. Help from mother or female friends in particular. Getting together with a new group of friends. Working with and developing your strengths. Creative ideas.

Common/Duplicate Messages: Gatekeeping. Adaptability. Meeting with important people. Staying focused. Receiving help. Travel (hot & sunny places mostly). A new cycle or fresh start. Creative projects.

Affirmations & Advice from the cards: Perseverance and determination bring results. | Plan, relax, and flow with the tide . | Faith sees the horizon beyond the waves. | The one principle that runs through the universe flows in the waves of the sea. | Your soul will build what it is trained to expect. | Safe shores of emotional and physical security are yours. | Good news flowing through the ether waves will answer your prayers. | Recognise which waves will carry you to your new horizon. | Nothing can be done without the proper means. | The ebb and flow of the tide carried good tidings.

P I L E 3

Difficulties or obstacles you may face: The Mermaid’s Rock

This card is kind of tricky as it’s one of those cards that don’t really have any negative connotations. The only message from this card I would say that can be interpreted as an obstacle is whether or not you’re able to tap into your inner strength and hold on to your faith in whatever you may be facing.

How you’ll be successful in obtaining your hopes and wishes: The Sperm Whale

Mainly, as long as you put your mind to something, you can achieve it.

Potential things in the next 10 days: Melusina, The Kelpie, The Right Whale, The Common Dolphin, The Gray Whale, The Blue Whale, The Bottlenose Dolphin, The Siren

Receiving a response you desire. An invitation from someone emotionally attached. Choosing who to hold on to and who to let go. Remaining calm will put you in a better position. Think before you act. Seeing through appearances. In control of yourself. Help from mother or female friends in particular. Good news. Someone being curious about you. Push yourself (within reason of course. Please don’t overwork or exert yourselves). Travel abroad/to the coast. Being ‘set free’ or a new beginning. Listening to your intuition. Considering your values. Checking in on your goals. Finding support in close friends and/or relatives. Be careful of putting your trust in or relying on someone who has commitments elsewhere.

Common Messages: Being observant. Being able to adjust or shape a situation to your liking. Achieving goals you set with focus and an extra push. Trust & listen to your intuition.

Affirmations & Advice from the cards: When two people in their hearts are one. they shatter the strength of stone. | Make friends with the cheerful and optimistic. | The calm of patience brings a tranquil sea of protection. | The longings of your heart are prophecies of realities. | The pathway to a dream is one of sacrifice. | You never know what great idea may arise in your sleep. | To give and receive genuine love brings a gift of happiness. | You will achieve your dreams through innovative solutions. | Safe shores of emotional and physical security are yours. | In the treasure of a day light is thrown on what could be tomorrow.

P I L E 4

Difficulties or obstacles you may face: The Pilot Whale

One of things The Pilot Whale speaks to is taking a moment to asks yourself if others have your best interest in heart or if you’re taking the wrong route if you’re doing things out of the ordinary. Make sure you’re carefully planning and know who you can trust.

How you’ll be successful in obtaining your hopes and wishes: Melusina

The key thing is to remember to think before you act and remaining calm as impulsive reactions can jeopardise situations or make them worse than they need to be.

Potential things in the future: The Humpback Whale, The Triton, The Nixie, The Vatea, The Kelpie, Ningyo, The Merbaby, The Kraken

Something coming to an end. Nothing to be afraid of. Happy days ahead. Focusing on yourself. A new chapter or renewing of a new chapter of your life. Vulnerability— make sure you’re guarded and cautious as you get to where you need to be. Avoiding being sidetracked. Achieving what’s good and right for you. Invitation to travel. Someone potentially trying to seduce you. Trying to free yourself from the unconscious. ‘Your ability to master forces lies in looking deeply into your subconscious.’ Good fortune in waves until the biggest arrives. Meeting a stranger (potentially romantic). Someone you already know may want you more. Refuse to be disheartened or muddle-headed.

Common Messages: Being careful with your actions. Be careful of someone being dishonest with you. Questioning the motive of others. Control yourself/Self awareness. Going into your subconscious. You have the answers you seek inside.

Affirmations & Advice from the cards: You are your own fate and control your own destiny. | The calm of patience brings a tranquil sea of protection. | Nothing can be done without the proper means. | Your aim rather than your desire is your real doctrine. | Your soul will build what it is trained to expect. | The secret of happiness is consciously uniting with the best in you. | The longings of your heart are prophecies of realities.| Astral light and an image of the world and oneness integrates the two, them and you. | The skill of being in harmony increases your effectiveness. | Your success and happiness lie within you.

___

Disclaimer: I read tarot for self reflection and guidance purposes, but as always, this reading is for fun and entertainment purposes only. I may include advice for if you find a particular topic resonating, but it is in no way meant to replace any kind of professional advice. Any reading I post is in no way meant to act as or replace professional advice of any kind. You know yourself and what’s going on in your life best so I ask that you trust yourself above all else. Prediction readings are to be seen simply as a potential outcome. Finally, please take only what resonates from the reading which may be some of it, all of it, or none at all.

[palbabor-writes]

I know you said you only might accept pregnancy requests depending on what it is so I wanted to try 😅 how about shigaraki and reader break up while she’s unknowingly pregnant with his child and he bumps into said child years later and connects the dots that it’s his? If you don’t like it feel free to ignore this request 😊

I liked this nonnie.

I am terrified that by saying that I’m going to be inundated with pregnancy HC’s, lol. But, this request I really leaned into. Plus, it’s more about a kid than a pregnancy. 

So, thank you for asking and letting me slip out of my comfort zone. It’s always good to do that every once in awhile and this ask was a great reminder of that.

It’s a bit melancholic, but I think it fits with Tomura, at least, in my mind.

Now, this is not in canon. This is not like, pre-war arc, or post-war arc. If anything, it’s more of an AU. I’d put Tomura in his late 20s to early 30s.  

warnings: none really, just some sweet, sweet interactions and mild angst 

Hestia Hestia, in Greek religion, is the goddess of the hearth, a daughter of Cronus and Rhea, and one of the 12 Olympian deities. When the gods Apollo and Poseidon became suitors for her hand, she swore to remain a maiden forever, and Zeus, the king of the gods, bestowed upon her the honor of presiding over all sacrifices. 

The shouting noise of children set his teeth on edge.

Toga had insisted that the bus stop by the school was the best place for the information exchange.

They won’t look for you there, she’d assured him. It’s like hiding in plain sight. Yeah, it’s patrolled, but it’s only an old security guard who does the rounds. Besides, he’s retired from the police force, she qualified, and was more like a lazy cat than an attentive scent hound.  

It’s the best place, really.

So, Shigaraki had made the long trek across Tokyo.

He kept to the shadows as he weaved his way through back alleys and streets. Although the dominance of the League had waned some over the years, he was still a wanted criminal, responsible for countless death and threats on hero society.

He was still the King of his slice of the underworld.

Besides, he reassured himself as he loitered by the bench under the bus stop, he could trust Toga.

She had improved in leaps and bounds as she came of age; deadlier, sleeker, more attuned to the ebbs and flows of the world around her. She wasn’t that girl who chattered about blood anymore.

Oh, she still held a strange fascination with the fluid. But she had more control over those impulses that drove her. If she said it was the best place, well, who was he to argue? Toga had been with him from the beginning, a vital ally. Hell, at this point she was close to being a friend.

Shigaraki is still musing when the ball taps its way to his feet.

It clatters against the pavement; the rubber shuttling it along the loose rocks and leaves. Unthinkingly, Shigaraki lifts his shoe to balance against its unbound movement, stilling its lulling bounces.

Must be from that schoolyard, he thinks, his red eyes flashing up at the low chain-link fence that separates the school grounds from the busy street.

There’s no child dashing their way to retrieve it, so he lets his gaze slip from the teeming masses of giggling youngsters. It’s a pretty blue. The ball looks new. Hardly a scuffed and battered thing.

He keeps it under his sole, toying with it, rolling it meditatively as he slips back into his thoughts.

“Hey! That’s mine!”

It’s a small voice that calls to him and he turns his head back to the fence, looking for the source.

It’s a girl.

She’s leaning against the metal, her hands clutching into the links, cocking her head inquisitively at him.

Her nose wrinkles at his silence, and she shouts another demand.

“Mister, that’s my ball. Toss it back.”

“Aren’t you supposed to say please?” Shigaraki taunts, his lips lifting in a quick grin. He’s not sure why he’s bothering to engage with this kid, but something about her plucky attitude resonates with him.

She leans away from the fence, that scowl deepening on her soft features.

“Aren’t grown ups not supposed to steal things?”

He laughs at her snark. He can’t help it. Oh, this kid’s fun.

Carefully slipping the ball into his hands, he moves closer to the fence. He can see her a little better now.

She’s still got that deep frown on her face and her dark hair is gleaming in the afternoon sun, some strands catching the light, reflecting a deep, auburn, hue. He’s just about to chuck the ball to her when he catches sight of her eyes.

They’re red.

Not that red eyes are unusual. There are plenty of people milling around Tokyo with them. But hers are different.

No, these eyes are like looking into a mirror for Shigaraki. They flint and glare with the same sheen as his own. It’s a prefect reflection.

His feet suddenly feel heavy, leaden, and he can’t lift his arms. Who is this child? Why does she-

“Ok, ok, mister. Can I please have my ball back? You’re still stealing it if you don’t, so I’m not apologizing for that. I might... if you give it back to me, cuz’ it’s my ball, not yours. And, stealing makes you a thief.”

She’s rolling those uncanny irises at his stiff form, and a huffing sigh escapes her small mouth.

“What’s your name?” Shigaraki asks, hands trembling over the rubber of the ball.

“Not supposed to tell that to strangers, mister.”

He smiles again, bemused. Well, he thinks begrudgingly, she’s a clever little thing. Whoever she is.

A sharp bell echoes across the yard and she turns her head at the sound, her dark hair tumbling around her shoulders.

“Here,” Shigaraki relents, gently flipping the ball over the fence, bouncing it to her feet.

“Thanks,” she murmurs, quickly snatching up her prize. Those red eyes of hers meet his own, and he can feel a low shiver echo up his spine. What’s up with this reaction? It almost feels visceral, like some sort of otherworldly pull on him.

“Sorry I called you a thief,” she apologizes, quickly bowing her head, ducking those eerie eyes from view.

He’s not sure what to say, so he continues to watch her. She doesn’t seem perturbed by this, opting to giggle at him as her little head lifts.

“You’re weird,” she assess, a smile finally spreading over her lips, her cheeks rounding and softening. 

Tch, she’s rude, but she’s also cute, Shigaraki thinks, snorting at her frankness.

She turns, dashing away from him, her dark hair flowing around her back as she goes.

Shigaraki shakes his head, trying to dislodge those lingering questions that keep floating to the back of his mind.

He’ll never see her again, he reasons, wandering back to the bus stop. Trying to tamp down the urge to look for her again, to pinpoint her from the other giggling and shouting children on the playground.

But he did see her again.

He comes back to the stop a few weeks later.

There’s no information pickup this time. There’s no real reason for him to even be on this side of town.

He just can’t get her out of his mind.

This little kid had shaken something within his psyche. He kept dreaming about her. Well, not her, really. No, there was someone else haunting his dreams.

He hasn’t thought about you in years.

But now? Now, he can’t get you out of his head. He even feels like he can feel you some nights, warm against his side. He sulks in the memories of the familiar touches that the two of you shared, the love that you’d pressed into him, so, so long ago.

He saw the girl in those moments. Resting in your arms as you looked up, your eyes bright against her dark head. The girl would laugh and run to him, those reflective red eyes shining with mirth. 

It was fucking strange.

He both hated, and loved, the repetitive nature of these illusions. They made him feel safe and warm, but they also chilled him to his very bones. It was unsettling.

Unsure what else to do, he’d back come to the bus stop.

It’s early afternoon. Close to the time he’d visited it before. He waits on the lonely bench, his hands pressed together and that strange tremble races through his veins.

This is stupid, he thinks, his eyes lowering from the sea of kids, all twisting and turning in a heap as they play. It’s an impossibility, really. The chances of that girl losing her ball again is minuscule. There’s no way he can call to her either. It’s a waste. He shouldn’t even be here.

He’s standing to leave, when that small voice reaches him.

“Oh! You’re back.”

His head whips around, his long white hair glowing against the sunlight.

There she is.

She’s gripping the fence again, and she’s staring right at him.

Shigaraki smiles. It’s a gentle lift and he can feel his heart tapping a rough tattoo against his ribs. He steps toward her, kneeling when he gets close, careful to not overstep his bounds.

He’s not wanting to startle her.

No, he’s wanting to talk with her. Maybe she’ll drop some kinda clue why he’s so drawn to her. Or maybe she’ll morph into any other child again. Plain, uninteresting. Slipping from that odd ghost that she’s become to his subconscious. 

He hopes it’s the latter. But part of him also longs for it to be the former.

She’ll hop to the fence around 3:15.

She looks for him now, used to the routine of his presence.

He told her to call him Tomura, and the name falling from her lips made his heart ache.

Tomura stopped by on Fridays. Careful to not stay too long, to not draw too much attention to himself.

At first, he’d sneak her little trinkets. 

A little plastic toy of his, one that he had since he was a kid. She’d squealed with delight and clutched it to her. He’d grinned at that, remembering how he’d once held onto the thick plastic himself. 

Once, he’d just plucked a nearby flower as he walked to the school, presenting it to her outreached grasp. He’d watched proudly as she tucked it behind her ear, the color glossy beside her hair.

She’s still a sassy little thing. But she’s softened a little, too. Her voice losing that early, untrusting, edge.

He didn’t ask her much. Sometimes they both just sat in silence as she sketched designs into the dirt. Sometimes he would listen to her chatter about her day. Her classmates, her teacher. Once, she’d even pressed something over the fence to him.

It was a drawing.

He’s not sure if it really was all that well done, or if it’s just his heavy bias toward her. But he loves the mix of color and lines. He’d asked who the people were.

One was her friend, Kenji. One was her teacher. One was him.

He’d pinned it to the wall in his room. Displaying it, flaunting the gift. He looked at it every morning, admiring her work.

He’s late one day, and she scolds him, her small arms draping over the fence.

“I didn’t think you were going to come,” she chatters, her red eyes lingering against his, the two colors casting back the same hue.

“Was running behind,” Tomura replies, leaning against the low concrete barrier, resting his back against the fence.

Her little hands reach for his hair, playing with the pearlescent tendrils, weaving some into knots and braids. 

He doesn’t mind.

“Hey, Tomura,” she says, working a tiny hairband into her creation, her voice curious.

“Hmm,” he hums, careful to not shift his head, not wanting to disrupt her hard work.

“You didn’t ask my name again. At least… not after that one day.”

“Do you want me to ask?” He queries, his pulse lifting.

He’d wanted to ask her again, but he didn’t want to startle her, to shatter these innocences that they shared.

“It’s Beryl,” she answers. She says it confidently, and he turns to face her.

She grins at him, wiggling one loose tooth playfully at his serious expression, trying to tug a laugh from him.

“Beryl?” he repeats, unable to keep that awed hush from his raspy tones. It’s a pretty name. It suits her, really. But it’s strange. It’s not Japanese. 

You hadn’t been Japanese. 

“That’s a good name,” he assures her. “But, it’s not… you don’t hear that name very often.”

“Yeah,” Beryl concedes, her vermillion eyes roving over his face. “My mom’s not from here.”

His nostrils flare at that.

He hasn’t asked her about her mother. He’s unsure if it’s a general disinterest on his part, or trepidation. He fears it’s the latter.

Gulping, he tilts his head at her, feeling that soft braid she’s plaited into his hair shifting.

“Who’s your mother?”

“Who is she? She’s my mom, silly.”

“No,” he pauses, ignoring that creeping tremor that’s working its way to the top of his skull, his skin prickling and cooling. “I mean…what’s her name?”

“Oh! Her name is-”

“Beryl! Beryl, it’s time to come inside.” A teacher is calling for her. 

Tomura startles away, drifting to his feet and pacing quickly back to the bus stop. He can’t help the snarl that etches its way across his lips. He’d been so close. So fucking close…

He chances a glance back at the fence and catches sight of Beryl. She’s dashing across the playground, her dark hair waving in the sun.

Japan is about to slip into summer. School will come to a close, moving into a long break. He won’t see her again for almost a month.

His heart sinks at that realization and he grits his teeth. Slipping his hands into his dark trench coat, he steps across the street, away from the bus stop, away from the little girl that’s feeling more and more like his own.

Edit: oh hey. so, i couldn’t stfu about this and created a sequel: Materfamilias 

hahaha & part iii

[trashyswitch]

Patton's Sugar Addiction

Patton has become way too addicted to sugar, to the point that Thomas is becoming affected mentally. And Logan is not having that. So, he comes to Patton's room to try to talk some sense into him. But...there's only so much sense you can explain to an impulsive little child who becomes childish and teasy when he doesn't get his way.

For Garcello (Hi!), @kanene-yaaay and forgetful-dortio

This was a fun fanfic to make! And...It's based on a personal experience...Without the tickling though, and not nearly as much sugar. But I did pig out on hot and cold creamy chocolate. And I have no regrets. ;)

If there is one thing Logan has always been good at, it’s identifying other people’s quirks and habits. And one quirk Logan knew all too well was Patton’s obsession with sugar.

From the time Patton was little, to when Patton started baking his own goods, Patton had grown increasingly more obsessed with sugar. At first, it start off as a little treat once a week. Then it grew to everyday desserts, to multiple sweet things a day. Soon, Logan had lost track of how much sugar Patton took in on a daily basis.

Logan didn’t fully know how much sugar he took in. But what he did know was that it was most likely too much. Even a tablespoon of sugar was too much for the human body. And Patton had already overtaken that obstacle long ago.

Now, Logan wouldn’t be looking at this issue as a problem if it weren’t for the effect Patton was having on Thomas...

One night, Logan had gotten up to go to the bathroom. As he walked to the bathroom, he noticed that Patton’s light was still on. It was currently 11:25, which wasn’t terrible...It was questionable at best. Logan walked to the door and placed his ear against it. It sounded like mumbled giggling and movie watching. Logan was gonna leave him alone when he realized something:

Mumbled giggling...Mumbled? Is Patton eating something?

Logan decided to do something he rarely does: Barge into his room. Logan walked into his room, took one look at Patton and shrieked!

Patton was eating a FULL TUB of cookies & cream ice cream, covered in caramel and chocolate sauce, mounted with whipped cream! It was a mountain of PURE SUGAR!

Surrounding the moral side was a big mug of hot chocolate, and 3 half-eaten chocolate bars.

“AAAH-” Patton coughed on his ice cream as bits of the liquid cream went down the wrong pipe. “Logan! Oh my goodness you scared me!”

Logan was staring at him, making the sugar calculations in his head. P-Patton-”

“Sorry Kiddo, I don���t think I heard you knock!” Patton put his tub down. “What’s going on? Do you wanna talk about it?”

Logan looked at the sugar pile. “Are...you feeling okay?” Logan asked.

Patton nodded. “Yeah, why?”

Logan pointed to all his chocolate. Patton turned around and looked at the chocolate. “Oh! Right.” Patton pushed all the chocolate bars and the tub into a desk drawer. “That’s nothing. Just felt like pigging out tonight.”

Logan walked into the room more and closed the door. “Your version of pigging out...is much worse than most people’s pigging out.” Logan told him.

Patton looked down guiltily. “I know that Lo…” Patton held his hands. “I’ve been...getting more sad and annoyed when I run out of the food that makes me happy. So I started buying large amounts of it to...help me get satisfied and full.” Patton explained.

“Patton...Do you realize how much sugar you’re taking in?” Logan asked.

Patton looked at the drawer with his half-eaten tub of ice cream and chocolate bars. “I...I lost count.”

Logan shook his head and walked closer. “I’m doing a sugar bust.” Logan declared as he opened the drawer.

“No NONONO WAIT-” Patton yelled, slamming the drawer shut. “No!”

Logan frowned. “Patton...let go of the drawer.” Logan ordered.

“No way!” Patton yelled back.

“Why?” the nerd asked.

“Because you’ll take it away from me!” Patton reacted.

“Yeah, because I’m worried about you.” Logan told him.

Patton sat his chair against the drawer to block it off. “If you love me, you’ll let me have this!” Patton told him.

“If I love you, I’d be doing this for the good of your health.” Logan said back.

“I’m a side! I can eat whatever I want without needing to watch my diet!” Patton argued.

“You are not stable like this!” Logan shot back.

“AND YOU ARE??” Patton yelled. “Mr. I feel no feelings?!”

Logan was taken aback. Did...Did he just insult him? Patton was NOT being himself at all.

“Organization makes you feel happy. And chocolate makes me feel happy! I never went around destroying your binders or paperwork!” Patton continued.

“You’re being ridiculous. I will not tolerate this unacceptable behaviour from you, Patton.” Logan said sternly.

Patton growled and tackled Logan right down to the ground. Logan yelped in fear as his back flopped against the ground. “PATTON LET GO OF ME!”

“You’re doing something that’s uncalled for! So now I’m gonna do something that’s uncalled for.” Patton declared before he started digging into Logan’s ribs.

Logan gasped and clenched his teeth tightly to prevent himself from givng Patton a chance to win. But oh boy...Patton was really going for an instinctive spot he could only control so much! And yes, Patton’s move was quite uncalled for. But it was also quite clever for Patton. Patton (unfortunately) knew exactly how to break any side. Even Logan.

Logan shook his head. “P-PAT THISISRIDICULOUS!” Logan shot at him through his clenched teeth.

“So is apprehending my stash of goodies!” Patton replied. “Now don’t make me go for the spot…”

Logan widened his eyes to the size of donuts. “You-youwouldn’t!” Logan reacted. He really wouldn’t, right?

“Ohohoho, I would. And I just might!” Patton declared.

Logan covered his armpits almost immediately to prevent Patton from getting to them. But Patton knew he would do this, and went for his neck instead.

“eEEEEHEHEK! Pahahat nohohoho!” Logan giggled.

“But Pat YES!” Patton leaned into Logan’s ab muscles, and blew a big raspberry: “PBBBbBbBFFBTBFT”

Logan finally couldn’t take it anymore. That raspberry threw Logan into enough of a frenzy to finally start laughing. “AAAAHAHAHAHAhehehehehe!”

Patton smirked to himself as he listened to the nerd’s laughter. It worked! Now to keep it going! Patton started skittering and scratching on Logan’s upper ribs and lifted up Logan’s arm. “I’m gonna getcha!” Patton teased.

“NOHOHO THIHIS IS UHUHUNCAHALLED FOHOHOR!” Logan yelled.

Patton only laughed evilly as he skittered his fingers slowly into Logan’s exposed hollow armpit.

Logan squeaked and fell into a fit of squeaky giggles. “Pahahahahat! Plehehehehehehease! Yohohou’re beheheing meeehehehehean!” Logan told him through the cute giggles he was letting out.

“Me? Mean?! Who was the one trying to steal from my precious stash a few minutes ago? Cause it certainly wasn’t me.” Patton reacted as he sped up the tickling to rapid speed.

“AAAHAHAHAHAHAHA! YOHOHOUR HEHEHEALTH PAHAHAHAT!” Logan yelled through his newfound laughter.

“Yeah, what about it?” Patton asked.

“IHIHI DOHOHON’T WAHAHANT YOHOHOU TOHOHO DIHIHIE!” Logan yelled.

Patton sighed. “Again...we’re sides. We don’t die.” Patton muttered out loud.

Logan was laughing up a storm with squeaks and giggles mixed in. This was so unfair! Why was Patton tickling him over his own sugar addiction? “BUHUHUHUT THOHOHOMAHAHAHAS!” Logan yelled.

“What about Thomas?” Patton asked, stopping his fingers.

Logan went limp, save for his one index finger that was raising up. “Thom-Thomas…*huff* ihis...behecomihihing...*huff*...un...unhealthy…*huff*...” Logan explained.

“Because of me?!” Patton reacted, placing his hand on his own chest. “How could that be?” Patton asked.

Logan’s hand flopped onto the carpet he was laying on. “Ihit’s...because…” Logan let out a big breath of air. “You’re increasing Thomas’s...craving for sweets.” Logan told him.

Patton tilted his head. “Am I?”

“Yes, a lot.” Logan explained. “Thomas has been ignoring my suggestions of something healthy due to ‘his cravings’. But...I can see why these cravings are coming up so often now.” Logan continued. “It’s you and your sugar addiction.”

“I wouldn’t call it an addiction...It’s more of a...taste preference.” Patton explained.

“A taste preference that you’re choosing so often that Thomas can’t keep himself together without a cookie or 20 to help him along the way.” Logan added.

Patton widened his eyes and covered his mouth. “Oh heavens…” Patton sat himself down and hummed as he looked at his butt. Patton stood back up and grabbed the item from his pocket.

Oh good lord it was another chocolate bar.

Logan noticed the almost cat-like look Patton developed when he saw the chocolate bar in his hand. “Paaaat...Paaat no!” Logan ordered.

Patton took one look at Logan and slowly ripped the top of the wrapper off the bar.

“Patton! I swear! You’ve had enough!” Logan reacted.

Patton slowly split the wrapper in half, and slowly separated the wrapper from the chocolate bar. “No I haven’t.”

Logan finally sprinted up to Patton. “GIVE IT HERE-” Logan skidded to a halt and rubbed his nose. “Did...Did you just shove the whole thing into your mouth?”

Patton stared at him and looked around with his cheeks more puffed out than a chipmunks cheeks of nuts. “Mm mm.” Patton hummed, shaking his head even though it was completely obvious that Patton had shoved the chocolate bar into his mouth.

Logan crossed his arms. “This is getting too far. Even for you.” Logan reacted. “This is more dangerous than Maleficent...Than- freaking SATAN! You’re being more dangerous than the devil right now!” Logan reacted, referring to his ‘and when I feel dangerous...eat a second cookie’ quote.

Patton narrowed his eyes and even hummed an offended sound. “How THARE-” Patton coughed a bit and started chewing. Half the chocolate bar was probably melted in his mouth by now thanks to the natural heat his mouth created.

Logan sighed and just let him chew. “Patton...I’m not gonna take the chocolate. But...I am going to try and help you control your urges to eat so much of it.” Logan told him.

Patton looked at him with a ‘you’d do that for me?’ kinda face and started to swallow.

“Just give me a chance to come up with a couple things. And...I may even start buying you your chocolates. Just...maybe have some variety.” Logan suggested.

Patton nodded as he chewed and swallowed.

“For example: nuts or berries. That way you’re getting some sort of valuable nutrients out of your snacks.” Logan decided.

Patton nodded as he swallowed his last bite with a sigh of content and a lick of the lips. “Mmmmm…”

Logan couldn’t help but snicker at this.

Patton turned to him. “What?” He asked with a smile.

“Nothing.” he put his hands up, with a small smile.

“Nothing? Nothing you say? After all of that?” Patton asked with an evil smirk on his face.

Logan’s small smile dropped into a look of pure nervousness. If he so much as said one thing, he was gonna die.

“Ooooooh...Thought staying silent would help you out huh?” Patton teased, sneaking closer. “I wonder...Which armpit would tickle more?”

Logan squeaked and covered his mouth as Patton moved closer and closer to Logan’s body. But then, things became even more flustering for Logan when Patton lifted up his arm again. “NO! NO NO NO NO PATTON!” Logan yelled. “STAAAAAAAA-”

Patton sighed and covered Logan’s mouth. “Get ahold of yourself.” Patton told him softly.

Logan stared at Patton.

Then Patton smirked and said a word:

“lee.”

Logan growled and covered his face.

Patton giggled and blew a raspberry into Logan’s ribs.

“AAEEHEEEEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE!” Logan screamed, laughing into the side of his own arm.

Patton tickled up and down the ribs, specifically focusing on the upper ribs and armpits the most because...That was Pat’s favorite spot to tickle on Logan! Logan was a mixture of laughter and giggles with squeaks thrown in as well. “Awwwwww! You’re so cute when you’re being tickled!” Patton reacted. “Wanna know what my favorite raspberry spot is?” Patton asked.

Logan shook his head. “NOHOHOHO! NOHO RAHAHASPBEHEHERRIES!”

“Well too bad, I’m gonna tell you anyway:” Patton leaned in and blew a raspberry on his belly. “Right on the tum tum!”

Logan wheezed and snorted at least 3 times in a row as his laughter started back up again. His laughter was so solid, strong, and yet quite soft to listen to! It was a beautiful little combination, if Patty did say so himself.

Patton soon gave Logan a break to allow the man to breathe for a while. Logan went limp on the ground for a bit, and lifted his head up. “Hey Pat?”

Patton smiled at him as he ate another spoonful of melting ice cream. “Yes?”

Logan wheezed as he saw Patton eating the ice cream yet again. “If you label the ice cream and put it into the freezer…” Logan looked down in slight embarrassment. “I’ll...let you tickle me more.”

Patton couldn’t refuse such a delicious deal such as this!

Patton was gone and back in 5 minutes or less, and was back and ready to tickle even more of Logan with his slightly cold hands. “I hope you’re ready for the tickling of a lifetime, young man!” Patton teased.

Logan gave him a wobbly smile. He hoped he was ready for it too...

[mc-critical]

your analysis of selim? i think he's hated way more than he deserves. hating him for valid reasons is fine but telling that he's gonna be such a bad sultan is really stupid [and especially because only now do they bring out history & say selim was bad which is historically inaccurate as well]. out of all of suleyman's sons, it was only mustafa who was loved by all & talented [show only cuz apparently mehmet was also extremely talented & selim wasn't a bad sultan] enough for the throne. bayezid was extremely hotheaded and you can't tell me that a prince who can't control his emotions, especially in front of state officials, will be a good sultan. everyone tells selim was extremely selfish & the instigator of all their fights, when they were younger & older. siblings are always like that?? mustafa obviously wasn't like that because he was way older than mehmet, mihrimah, selim, bayezid & cihangir to get into stupid fights w/ them. mehmet & mihrimah had frequent & annoying arguments because they were closer in age. selim & bayezid had frequent fights because they were closer in age. this is a thing with many siblings; the elder provoking the younger & the younger disrespecting the elder. why do people point out their sibling fights as evidence for selim's personality? i feel sorry for bayezid as a kid but i feel less remorse for him as he's older. i don't say he deserves execution, especially at the hands of his own father, but he did rebel against his father's order & then proceeded to flee to another empire; like, the punishment for that is execution, what did he expect after rebelling? i feel extremely sorry for all his sons though, they didn't deserve this fate when they were just victims of their father's rebellion. also, unpopular opinion but bayezid is lowkey overrated pls don't cancel me i love him but he's annoying at times like all characters & no one really acknowledges it back to selim, he was honestly very underrated. he was really slandered in the series and he didn't have any real support w/ him until nurbanu & sokollu. although hurrem did vouch for him to go to manisa, it was literally only because he was 'peaceful' [we can read that as untalented as well] and no harm would reach him because he wasn't a threat [i actually really liked this plan of hurrem's, tough & clever; only if she was actually supported in this]. even mihrimah, till the end, is quite unfair to him. he had a problem w/ alcohol & people telling him to just stop? like, it doesn't work that way? people have to suffer so much in order to stop their addictions & they're actually restricted from their addictions; selim was a prince, no one around him could restrict him [his parents could but they weren't w/ him in his provinces]. he did become politically active w/ nurbanu's growing ambitions & he took smarter, more cunning & dirtier measures than bayezid to win the throne. the battle for the throne was bloody; resorting to honour like mustafa did was obviously not the best decision & people insult selim for being cunning enough [or being influenced by cunning people] to win the throne. let's also keep in mind that selim didn't even have much of an interest for the throne until manisa & nurbanu. i also like his relationship w/ nurbanu. it paralleled suleyman & hurrem's w/ the concubine arcs but selim did end up being monogamous to her in the show. their chemistry was fantastic [props to engin & merve for their acting] and although i don't really enjoy the 'a woman makes a man strong & influences him in everything; good or evil' kind of take, i did enjoy their relationship [he also sometimes looked at her like she was this ethereal type miracle, appropriately so w/ her courage]. i like what the show did w/ bayezid's execution a lot, the whole scene was such a wonderful cinematic experience; the music, bayezid's agonizing screams, his sons falling one by one, selim crying because he didn't want it to end up this way, bayezid falling & his screams ceasing, selim's heartbroken face because he was always a soft person & he always loved bayezid;

ahh, what a scene, so much love for it. anyway, that's just my opinion; i think he's hated way more than he deserves, especially in comparison to other characters & he's actually one of my most favourite characters from s4 [but i honestly love all characters w/ their good & bad, mc has many complex characters & i live for it]. what do you think about selim? sorry if you got annoyed at the long ask, i can get really heated when talking about selim [especially in reference to his historical figure], hope you don't mind if❤ [if it is annoying i'll stop it]

(okay, I'll talk strictly about the show, since I don't feel like delving deep into historical waters. There is still stuff we don't know for sure and I do want to keep the line between show and history in my head, except for the similar themes.)

While he isn't particularly my favorite character, I appreciate MC Selim and he is a very interesting subject when it comes to analyzing him. I'm actually amazed with what the show did with him in the span of a season (and something, counting some S02B and S03B moments) - he was one of the most fleshed out characters in S04 and we could get a clear picture as to why he does what he does.

Some people consider his debut to be an insult, for it immediately showed some of his weaknesses, putting him in a bad light right out of the gate. But all I can see in this debut is a showcase of his predicament of the prince no one sees as a capable heir of the throne. It’s as if he sleeps with women and drinks as a coping mechanism he’s delved into, with Mihrimah having to do effort to snap him out of it. The Selim we see in the beginning of S04 is a hopeless person. He doesn’t have dreams and ambitions, it’s as if he’s a already a lost cause and he has no one to truly support him. Even Hürrem wanted to send him to Manisa not because she deemed him as worthy, but to use him as a shield in order to deceive her enemies and protect the actual favorite. That may seem like a clever plan, but in actuality, it failed spectacularly - not only did her enemies not get confused for a second and didn’t attack Selim at all, but she forgot to tell Bayezid why she did it and made Selim confused to the point of demotivation, because none of his brothers were truly happy with this decision and they were all opposing it, directly and indirectly. And while he may not show it that much, because of his more composed and pragmatic nature, Selim is sensitive to the opinions of his brothers and the people around him and their prevailing disapproval may be a part of why he became so different than the rest. It’s like no one wanted to get to know him.

Nurbanu’s entrance in Selim’s life is very cathartic in this aspect, for she actually worked with him and gave him the needed motivation and ambition to fight, awaking sides of him that were dormant for a long time. And yes, I do think that Selim’s pragmatism is something he always had, if the whole arrow incident in S03B where he sabotaged Bayezid’s arrow, which caused him to lose is any indication. 

{I don’t think that the quarrels Selim and Bayezid had when they were little are so much indicators of Selim’s personality as they are foreshadowing of their future conflict. Right, these quarrels are normal for siblings and Mehmet and Mihrimah also fought like that (heck, even little Mehmet and Mustafa had a fight once in S01 and that fight was used as the conflict of the remainder of that one episode), but they weren’t as frequent as the ones of Selim and Bayezid. I don’t know, it’s just the atmosphere of these scenes was different and hinted at something more. It could be because we know the historical events and we could see every tiniest bit of early sibling rivalry between them as build-up, but still, I always felt there just was something else. Like the whole arrow incident I mentioned, a presumably harmless little situation gains a whole other meaning later on. It sets up neatly Süleiman’s opinions of both of them (his reaction to apparent disobedience and the making of a scene by someone he doesn’t expect to, by which I mean Bayezid), Hürrem’s retroactive ignorance of a possible bigger enmity and the roots of the whole conflict. It’s not Selim deciding to sabotage Bayezid’s performance as a last resort, maybe knowing that he surely won’t do better than his brother (doing a pretty typical ,,prank’’ for a little, naughty kid) that is exemplary of his cunning later, it’s his validation and him getting away with it that eventually becomes it, just like how he ends up getting away with stuff in the next season. Selim definetly isn’t the instigator of all the fights, especially because Bayezid, thanks to his more impulsive nature, is much more likely to start a fight in the first place and contrasts to Selim’s overall better composure. Provokations among them were mutual and both were consistently throwing darts at each other, one after another. Their conflict is a very nuanced issue: while people try to play right and wrong, both sides were at fault one way or another. The conflict between them is mostly caused by insensitivity, favoritism and ignorance and the desperation of both to try to prove themselves to their parents and win their support, at the end of the day. Why did they always calm down in front of their mother? Not only because of their joint respect for her, but also because of these same attempts to earn her support. Even Bayezid, who obviously had to be sure of her support, wasn’t completely certain of it after Hurrem turned it on Selim for a while. Selim, on the other hand, obviously never felt her support, it’s like something was missing right from the start. Combine that with their completely opposing personalities and the whole system encouraging competition for the throne and there you have the inevitable ultimate conclusion. That’s why I also love the set-up, the pay-off and the aftermath of Bayezid’s execution. It may be historically inaccurate that Selim, not Süleiman, executed Bayezid, but when you think about it, it was the most logical thing that could’ve happened, ending their conflict with a heart-wrenching bow. I love the scene of the execution itself, too - the action, the dialogue, the direction, the character moments, the themes... I don’t know whether Selim loved Bayezid by that point, per say, after all they went through, but it was clear that he knew that he had to do it, that it couldn’t have ended any other way, but he was broken over it. He was aware that it was, ultimately, a sin, which would continue haunting him. He couldn’t catch a break afterwards, he couldn’t stop. All was solved, but at what cost?}

I love his dynamic with Nurbanu - they balanced each other off so well, their chemistry was amazing, such a power couple. Nurbanu’s biggest contribution is hiding some of his flaws and mobilizing him to fight. Her cold pragmatism ,,grounds’’ Selim’s softer side, she’s there to always remind him of the stakes of the game and to shut off the last ounces of his vulnerabilities after Hurrem died. He sure is influenced by her, but that doesn’t mean that he blindly takes her word for everything - he is always ready to call her out when necessary and assure her that there are lines she shouldn’t cross. Despite of her pleas, he kept having affairs with other women (that is honestly a trend with all the men of the show, but still..), he got mad at her after what happened to Huricihan and most notably, after he found out that she possibly stole his mother’s ring. A part of why their dynamic works so well is precisely this strenght of character and their awesome compatibility. 

I have heard affirmations that Selim doesn’t care about Mustafa, which... simply isn’t true? While they have the least scenes together and Selim is the one that considers him most as a rival and his most dangerous competitor for the throne (which would explain his startled reaction after Musti saved him from the janissary), it’s precisely Mustafa’s death that is the turning point of his character arc. He was upping his game slowly but surely and before then, but he didn’t do much in terms of attacks. Neither Selim, nor Nurbanu once considered attacking Mustafa, the supposed biggest danger to them, which I find respectable and admirable. The bomb with the death drops and then every hope about a fair game is abandoned. Selim gets the realization that being honorable won’t work. The only way to win is bend the system and play dirty. There’s no time for sitting around or looking nice. And even though Nurbanu realized this, too, as well as Selim, Nurbanu was always more inclined to act this way than him and now the righteousness of her methods were only getting confirmed. It was Selim that had to reach this end. Discovering that he is no longer allowed to show any kind of weakness. Every chance that appears on the horizon, he’ll take it. That brings him to his first true dirty plan - the trap he set through the fake Mustafa rebellion.

Speaking of which, the worst deed of Selim’s for me is connected to that rebellion. I know I may be very biased in this regard, since it affects my personal favorite character and isn’t as recalled as others, but I hated when, in Selim and Sokollu’s attempts to wash their hands from the pulled off stunt, Sokollu, his man, told SS that Mahidevran was giving money to the rebellion. Okay, it’s not said outright whether is this directly tied to Selim or it was something Sokollu himself came up with out of desperation or something (though it was hinted that both thought something through in a scene where both were saying that they should come clean out of this all somehow) and it’s not outrightly confirmed whether Mahidevran gave the money or not (I highly doubt she did it; not only because it would destroy her whole S04 arc and she would become, well... MCK Gulbahar, but also because after the messenger told her of her alleged blame in E129, her eyes widened in surprise.), but all it does is be the only explicit case where Selim indeed looks bad, for his proposal to return Mahidevran in the castle doesn’t seem to stem from genuine guilt and remorse, but rather a late and empty attempt to placate his own conscience. Oh, not to mention (for the upteenth time, sorry in advance) how the scene back in E58 where Hurrem tells Mahidevran that her kids will be there taking care for her when she’s alone, which was treated as some big foreshadowing in the show, as well, by both the voice of the S02B narrative and the fandom alike, loses its value even more with that framing, because Selim and Sokollu themselves brought her to this state in the first place!!! Despite it making sense anyway, it’s still such a disservice to Selim as a person both inside and outside of the writing. 

One aspect of Selim’s pragmatism I find most interesting is his ability to turn his enemies into allies, knowing exactly how to amass them and get them on his side, be it through giving them more money and promising them the world. These alliances are all opportunistic in nature and may not be as loyal as those of Mustafa’s or of Mustafa’s people (like Atmaca) with Bayezid, but I think Selim knows this and wants to keep them steady enough for the common goal. As for what kind of a padisah he’ll be.... I believe that state matters would be the least of his concerns, since he was shown to not care so much about them, compared to his other brothers (but then again, the show itself doesn’t put the political capability of the princes at center stage - their personal virtues are always the determining factor of what makes a good padisah and what doesn’t, more of a psychological outlook, if you will.) and he perhaps won’t plan as many campaigns or conquer as many territories, maybe he won’t be that successful at all, but his cunning would bring him advantage in front of his people, he will be at least a bit careful of who he’s choosing and won’t simply lose it in front of everyone, compared to Bayezid’s impulsive temper.

[I love Bayezid as a character, but the shadier aspects of his personality sure tend to be overlooked. While his anger is directed mainly at Selim and Suleiman, it often reaches such extremes to the point it becomes destructive and affects everyone. He doesn’t deserve his execution at all and most of his actions stem from a very sympathetic place, given how SS never truly gave him a chance and he went on the inevitable path, because he, just like Selim, realized that honor won’t work in this war, but took the opposite approach from Mustafa, direct rebellion. And predictably, both approaches didn’t work since Bayezid, too, was taken advantage of. While he didn’t get justice, the lead-up to his execution is a character arc of his and there are many reasons and events linking it all together and showing us why it took place the way it did.]

Selim’s dynamic with Suleiman is proof of how you can be presumably favored, but you have to work to get there. The reasons Suleiman favored him are very telling and sad and we see that he also doesn’t favor him because of any and all capabilities he may have, but because of his self-imposed distorted view of loyalty Selim has to do a lot to preserve, actually. He constantly has to make it so it looks like he’s loyal and obedient and doesn’t work behind his back. He doesn’t get the fullest appreciation from his father, as well, and I certainly feel it impacts him, in a way.

I agree that Mihrimah could be unfair to Selim. They weren’t that close and she had this open preference to Bayezid. Most annoyingly is when, in their confrontation in E139, which highlights even more their parallel sins, Mihrimah doesn’t seem to face that sin of hers when Selim calls her out on it. She has a reason to deeply resent him after what he did to Bayezid, but was offended when he reminded her of the crime she also committed. More solidarity on that front would be a bit better, at least a hint of like recognizing like even for a moment. (but maybe then her scene with Mahidevran later wouldn’t be as impactful? Huh.)

And lastly, about his drinking - Nurbanu tried to restrict him, but it’s true that such habits aren’t easy to give up on, especially knowing how his drinking is a coping mechanism as much as it is something he enjoys. He knows he shouldn’t do it, he’s told he shouldn’t do it, but he can’t help it. He doesn’t drink when he’s planning or scheming, but he keeps on doing it more and more with every problematic action of his. It’s an attempt to supress his otherwise strong conscience to the max, seeing how after his brother’s execution he apparently always took a drink when he was alone at night, fighting an inner conflict with himself. I don’t think there was a way he could stop doing it permanently in the show. It was a part of who he was, unfortunately or not. 

[unfunny-quips]

Of all the many people in the world who wanted him dead, All For One had to admit that he was rather surprised by the person who actually managed to both track him down and get past his impressive security.

He knew someone was there the moment he opened the door. Could sense the presence of another person in his high rise apartment that shouldn’t have been there. A steady heartbeat, unflinching and unafraid. Brave or stupid, he wasn’t sure, but they’d be dead either way once he wrung out of them how they’d gotten in and which of his security detail he was going to have to kill.

He shrugged off his coat - it was new and fit him well, he’d rather not get blood on it - and hung it up carefully by the front door. Slipped off his shoes and rolled his shoulders with a sigh. Though that particular apartment was not homey per se, there was something oddly comforting about returning to a living space that was entirely his own at the end of a day. Though centuries ago, a childhood fraught with uncertain living situations and inconsistent care had left marks on him that time and power had not fully been able to shake.

All the more reason to make the intruder’s death slow, as insignificant a threat as they were, they’d at least been able to find him. Which meant finding a new luxury apartment, perhaps even in a new city. And he despised moving.

He kept his steps light on the polished wooden floors, stopping by the oversized and little used kitchen for some water before he meandered his way towards the living room where his uninvited guest waited. Perhaps he’d throw them out the window, eighty stories up would make for a rather long time to think about their impending death. Or maybe tear them apart inch by literal inch so they had to languish in their suffering.

Setting his glass down on the kitchen counter he stepped into his spacious living room and paused at what sat waiting for him.

All For One, Emperor of Darkness, King of all Villains, Boogeyman of the Boogeymen found himself...uncertain.

There was a woman seated on his couch. Casually dressed and relaxed looking, knees drawn up and tucked beneath her, an open book bag on the floor beside where she sat and a law textbook in hand. She finished highlighting a section carefully before capping the marker and turning her gaze on to him, letting him see her face properly for the first time.

Green eyes were the first thing that struck him. Clear and bright and intelligent, set in a kind face. Her hair, also green, was swept down a little past her shoulders with half of it pulled up in a fluttering little bun at the back of her head. He was struck by two thoughts as he took her in.

The woman sitting before him was entirely unintimidated by him.

And...

She looked a bit like Nana Shimura. 

The woman tilted her head, seeming to take him in while he’d been observing her. She shifted on the couch a little, shutting the book softly and setting it down. Her heartbeat was steady, her gaze unflinching but not combative. Purpose seemed to flow off of her, as resolute as her steady gaze. He understood that she knew exactly who he was and felt no need for fear nor sense of unease in his presence. A strong will, he knew the aura he carried around him well and it was someone interesting indeed who could face the overwhelming killing intent that drifted off him in waves without so much as a flicker of uncertainty. 

“Hello.” She said with a soft, clear voice. The kind of ease one has with an acquaintance or a friend not often seen, not a stranger whose house she had invaded. “I’m sorry to have broken in like this.” She started, with the appropriate level of apology one would save for knocking over a stranger’s drink. “But I was hoping you’d be able to help me.”

He should be irritated, he should just kill her and get on with his evening, he should make her an example for anyone else stupid enough to think they could waltz into his home without consquence. 

He wasn’t irritated though. And he didn’t kill her. Instead he found himself oddly...charmed by the stranger that sat before him.

“Indeed?” He asked blandly, slipping his hands into his pockets before leaning against the wall casually. “I’m afraid you’re rather lost if you think this is a police station.”

The woman broke into a small smile, a soft huffing chuckle leaving her. Shaking her head she dropped her gaze for a moment and he saw the faint pink of a blush on her cheeks. He was, he realized. He was absolutely charmed by her. And it wasn’t even her Quirk doing it, hers had the feel of a gravitational telekinesis, not a mood altering ability. The woman that sat before him, who had broken into his home and casually asked him for help as if searching for her stray cat, was oddly endearing. And it had been a long time since he had found himself endeared by anything, let alone a person.

“Sorry,” She said, shifting on the couch. “I’ve probably done this all wrong. But I wanted you to know I was serious.” Green eyes met his own and he was struck again by the intelligence he saw in her gaze. “I don’t know why I thought this would be the way to do it but…” She gave a shrug, then slowly got to her feet. Careful not to topple her bag or trip as she untangled from her comfortable position on the couch. “Here, let me try again.” 

He watched as she gave a short, polite bow, hands clasped before her. A neat and polite introduction, complete with a soft smile as she rose to meet his gaze again. “My name is Midoriya Inko. I’m a graduate law student at Kyushu University, and I was hoping you could take my Sensei’s Quirk.”

Well. 

How on earth was he supposed to kill such a charming, polite young woman when she came to him with such an interesting request such as that?

He couldn’t, of course, was the answer.

---

Inko always had trouble with authority.

Even when she was very young she’d been prone to doing what she was told she shouldn’t just because an adult told her not too. Her father - in what faint and blurring memories she had of him before his death - used to call her his little revolutionary and would laugh over the hijinks her stubborn nature would produce. Then again, her father had his reasons to support the wholesale refusal to bend to the whims of authority. 

Trying to take down the corrupt system the government had put in place had been the cause of his death, after all.

Her mother had been far less amused by Inko’s acts of rebellion for rebellion’s sake. Always begging Inko to please just follow the rules just once honey with a perpetually exhausted look on her face. Inko’s only picture of her mother - a snapshot of the entire family at a park, her small frame held in her father’s arms a month before he would be killed - showed Nana Shimura with a wide, infectious smile in place. It felt odd looking at it in years to come, as Inko could only recall her mother looking mournful and sad in those last days.

It had been Kotaro that was the well behaved one of the two of them. Thirteen minutes older than her, he took the responsibilities of the eldest sibling with a seriousness that was almost frightening at times when they’d been children.

He’d been the one to tell her not to get into trouble, the one to reprimand her when she misbehaved. The one to tell her not to sneak out when they were teenagers in one of their many foster homes after their mother had given them up. Rule abiding, strict and, as they’d grown, more and more obsessed with control. Of her, of their situation, of whatever he could. A strangling, grasping bid at a control that had only led their already rocky relationship to splinter even further.

Her last conversation with him before she’d stopped speaking to him completely he’d told her that she should be a quiet housewife. She’d gone and applied to law school the very next day.

She still found herself wondering if that had been Kotaro being clever. Using her own contrary impulses to make her commit to something she’d always wanted to do but been too uncertain about to try and follow. It would have been the kindest he’d been to her in years if it was true, and she’d been too afraid to reach out to him to find out for fear that it wasn’t.

Instead she focused on her studies, focused on being the person she wanted to be instead of the person she’d been forced to become over the years. Not the abandoned daughter of a hero that had to retire too soon, but someone who was able to take the rules she’d been so long rebelling against and reshape them. Twist them under her hands until they settled into something she could believe in. Something she could follow.

At nineteen, after careful consideration and one less-than-helpful conversation with her friend Mitsuki she changed her name to Midoriya. On her twentieth birthday enjoying the fact that she could - legally - drink herself into oblivion, she cut her waist long hair off in a single ugly cut with the kitchen scissors. The next hour was spent in laughter as Mitsuki’s shy fashion student boyfriend Masaru fixed the mess as best he could. At twenty-one she clutched her best friend’s hand and gritted her teeth as a tattoo artist brought to life a stylized kitsune on her shoulder. A mark of the trickster she wished to become. And in between all of that, she proved herself to the academic world at large and earned herself a full ride to Kyushu University’s much lauded law program.

The work was challenging, equal parts exhilarating and mind-numbingly boring. She spent her days working hard to get top marks in every class, to ace every test, and impress every teacher with her sharp wit and unbending will. Her nights were filled with studying and working whatever jobs she could pick up to cover what her scholarships didn’t cover. Mitsuki teased her that she would get wrinkles from squinting at so many books, but her friend was always supportive. 

Years passed, semesters flying by in almost a dream at times, whisking her closer and closer to graduation and her dream of reshaping the system into something she could believe in. Despite her exhaustion, she’d found herself happier than she’d ever been in her life.

Which of course was the exact moment that it all started crashing down.

It started with one of the girl’s in the same program as Inko suddenly dropping the ball on her studies, the other woman’s grades began plummeting at an alarming rate. The girl -  Shibata Aiko - looked ragged and exhausted, unable to focus and eventually being dropped from the program entirely due to the issues with her academic performance. 

A few weeks later it was another female student shutting herself away in her dorm room for an entire week. The girl finally left her dorm looking haggard and sick, refusing to speak to anyone as she walked barefoot out into the wider world and immediately attempted to throw herself in front of a bus. 

Then one of Inko’s senpai’s - kind and serious Hanako who had mentored Inko briefly when she’d first joined the school - had what could only be called a breakdown in the school library. Screaming and crying as she began tearing up law books and flinging chairs.

Each incident was quickly handled and waved away as young women not suited for the high expectations and difficulties of such a high ranking university. Most of Inko’s classmates had been, if not content to accept that information, at least too exhausted by their own heavy workloads to question further.

But Inko never was good at accepting the will of authority.

[lov3nerdstuff]

Voluptas Noctis Aeternae {Part 7.33}

*Severus Snape x OC*

Summary: It is the year 1983 when the ordinary life of Robin Mitchell takes a drastic turn: she is accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the struggles of being a muggle-born in Slytherin, she soon discovers her passion for Potions, and even manages the impossible: gaining the favor of Severus Snape. Throughout the years, Robin finds that the not quite so ordinary Potions Professor goes from being a brooding stranger to being more than she had ever deemed possible. An ally, a mentor, a friend... and eventually, the person she loves the most. Through adventure, prophecies and the little struggles of daily life in a castle full of mysteries, Robin chooses a path for herself, an unlikely friendship blossoms into something more, and two people abandoned by the world can finally find a home.

General warnings: professor x student, blood, violence, trauma, neglectful families, bullying, cursing

Words: 4.5k

Read Part 1.1 here! All Parts can be found on the Masterlist!

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They arrived in front of Morgan's private rooms a few minutes later, and it instantly sobered Robin up from her feelings of happiness and comfort that she had been able to cling onto ever since setting foot into the office earlier. If only life could always be as easy as it had seemed minutes ago, just Snape and her, and their relentless curiosity for magic and adoration for each other… But it wasn't, and both of them seemed to remember that as they stood in front of Morgan's door in silence. If they didn't find out about Morgan's reasons, didn't find out what this entire thing was about, there would be no life for Robin to lead at all.

She looked up at Snape next to her for a silent moment of gathering her wits, and his gaze spoke volumes of the same story. They could do this. They would find the bloody portrait, and then they would take the next step and the next and the next until this stupid mess was over with, until Morgan was no threat anymore. Whatever that might take. Even if it meant having to make Dumbledore their friend or enemy.

Upon a silent agreement that time was of essence, Robin got started on opening the door at last. It was warded rather heavily as she found, but that didn't stop her in the least, and on the contrary made things rather easy in return. Quite like paint that was applied in thick layers, she could peel them back and remove them all at once, even as thickly plastered as they were. A few minutes of quietly murmured spells and some trial and error later, the door swung open with a little squeaking noise and opened up the view of a perfectly ordinary, even if slightly ostentatious bed- and living room.

"I have to ask…" Robin spoke up quietly, once they had closed the door behind themselves and were now looking around the dark room with a lumos each. "Are you actually bad at breaking into places, or did you just pretend to be? Earlier today, I mean."

"I successfully worked as a spy in one of the worst wars known to wizarding history, and even beyond that, you have seen the neighborhood I grew up in. What do you think?" He asked in return, easily and without reproach, while yet he kept his focus on searching the room around them.

"Honestly, I think you could probably break into Azkaban unnoticed and back out again as well if you wanted to."

"That's perhaps a bit exaggerated, but the general sentiment is close enough."

"Then why did you want me to do it?" A small frown creased Robin's brows, as her eyes darted over the various pieces of luxurious furniture. "I'm sure you're far better at opening doors than I am."

"To humour you." Again, his reply came easily and with an almost graspable not-smirk engrained in his tone, and Robin inevitably had to smile as well while he went on. "In very much the same way you always do when you ask me to grab an item from the top shelves for you. You know as well as I do that you wouldn't even have to use your wand to collect it yourself, but instead you keep asking me to help you. Because you know how much it pleases me."

The smile on Robin's lips broadened, and finally her eyes found Snape on the other side of the room. "I had a vague idea that you knew I was doing it on purpose by now. Did you see that in my mind?"

"No. I simply know you well enough to know how well you know me."

"That's as confusing as it is amazing." She sighed with the same smile, then went back to searching the room with her eyes fixed on the shadowy corners and places. "And thank you, for humouring me. I needed it today."

For another ten minutes they searched the admittedly small chambers in well practiced collaboration, checking even the adjunct bathroom and the wardrobes, but they still came up empty handed. Robin ran a hand through her unruly hair in frustration, then looked up at Snape who was standing next to her in the open space in equal irritation. "The bloody portrait has to be here. It wasn't in the classroom nor in the office, so it just needs to be here. There's no other possibility!"

"Considering how… frequented Morgan's quarters are by visitors of various kinds, it would only seem logical that he hid it well enough to not be found by guests on accident, but close enough to retrieve for his private moments."

"Ugh…" Robin shuddered while pulling a face. "It's not your fault, but any way to phrase it just sounds disgusting to me."

"I try to ignore that as best as possible. But the facts remain as they are, and I believe he hid it in close reach. The question remains as to where."

"Let's see… Perhaps we have to think like Morgan if we want to find the stupid thing." She suggested, and upon Snape's attentive yet expectant expression, she elaborated as silently demanded. "If I was Morgan, a wizard of thirty something years who is obsessed with a girl who is my student and who I happen to have a painting of… I would put it in a place where I often see it. I would be a lazy arse, but clever enough to still get my way; which means I would hide it somewhere where I don't have to move it, only conceal it."

"Sounds reasonable."

"And if I was Morgan, I would put it in a place where I can enjoy it while following my daily routine, since I would always be short of time and everything else would be too much of a hassle."

"Still reasonable."

"So… where in my chambers would I spend a lot of time?" Robin frowned to herself, then started sauntering through the room once more. "The desk, perhaps. I would always be working here instead of my office."

"But would you, as Morgan, not choose a place to display it that doesn't demand a constant split of attention? Having the portrait near the desk would pose a terrible distraction from your work. And as much as I hate the man, he always finishes his grading and other work neatly and in time." Snape commented in return, and Robin found herself nodding along as she trailed away from the desk again.

"True, I wouldn't be able to focus if I was constantly tempted to look at something I am obsessed with. And I would be terrible at controlling my own impulses. So… where else would I spend a lot of time by myself? What would I like doing in my free time?" She sauntered over to the small sitting area in the far corner, frowning to herself in contemplation. "Reading, perhaps?"

"You really don't have the slightest idea about what goes on in the mind of the average male, regardless of age, do you?"

Robin turned back around to Snape with a scoff, a half smirk and one raised eyebrow. "But you do? I can hardly imagine that."

"I was unfortunate enough to live with a hoard of them back in my school days." He scoffed at the memory, rolling his eyes to himself before he continued on in obvious disdain for what he was saying. "Perhaps Morgan was taking a literal approach with his words about looking at the painting each morning and each night. Perhaps, he hid it in the very place where he spends his every morning and night indeed."

"You don't mean-... No. No…"

"I wish I could hope I'm wrong." The gravity of Snape's tone made Robin shudder a little, or perhaps it simply was the idea he was so subtly presenting, but she took a deep breath anyway and walked over to the large four-poster bed in determination. That same model seemed to be a staple for all staff rooms, and if Morgan had hidden the portrait there, she would find it.

Indeed, after a moment of pushing through the queasy and awkward feeling of searching the vile man's bed, Robin finally found what she was looking for. Hidden under the roof of the canopy, concealed and fixated in place with some subtle charms work, was the portrait that she had last laid eyes upon in her fourth year. The almost perfect image of herself, the eerie similarity that now was almost absolute, hidden in such a place for only Morgan's eyes to devour at his fancy. Robin felt sick at the thought, her stomach churning, and even the last hairs in her neck were standing upright now. Morgan really hadn't been joking about his literal need for her… she suppressed the need to gag, which was only followed by another unpleasant shiver. This was worse than any amount of blood had ever made her feel.

"I, uh… I found the portrait." She finally managed to speak out loud without the bile rising in her throat, and after another few seconds of staring at the bloody thing that still looked just like she remembered, she added, "The… other me really doesn't have earrings, just as we thought, but otherwise she could be my mirror image. Well, if I had lived a couple hundred years ago, that is."

Her words faded, but even after multiple moments of silence she still received no answer, nor did she hear Snape coming any closer to look at her findings for himself. With a confused frown, Robin turned to look through the open room behind her only to find him lingering by the desk now, a deep frown plastered on his own face as he inspected a dark brown wooden box in front of him in silence. Again, as so often, his expression and body language spoke volumes, this time of weariness and caution.

"Sev? What's wrong?" Robin couldn't keep the concern out of her voice as she skipped over to the other side of the room to stand beside him in an instant. For a moment she followed his gaze to the intricately decorated box on the tabletop. It was an intriguingly unique piece, even if Snape seemed to be rather lost in thought than to be studying the object itself, and she finally looked back up at him with unease written all over her features when he still didn't reply. "Talk to me. Please."

"I believe to have seen this very object in the headmaster's office before… Years ago, when I was a student, and again and again when I started teaching, but not any time recently. In one of the shelves in the far back of the room where all the important artefacts are stored, far out of everyone's reach." He answered at last, obviously lost in thought and consideration, which didn't do much to calm Robin's uproaring nervousness. If Snape was concerned, she should be double as much.

"Do you know what's inside?" She finally dared to ask, and while she wasn't sure if she even wanted to know the answer, she suddenly was very certain that whatever the box held would bring them closer to solving the mystery around Morgan and the Portrait. It had to, everything else just wouldn't make sense. But perhaps that was just wishful thinking.

"I have no idea." He mused, seconds before casting a detection charm for curses and dark magic over the object, only to have it come back negative. "But we should certainly take a look. Out of all the bizarre objects in Morgan's room, this is perhaps the second most curious after the portrait."

"Why do you think that?"

"Have you ever in the entire castle seen an object that required a key and not magic to unlock it?" He finally turned to Robin, then motioned to the box once more while his eyes stayed on her though. Frowning to herself, Robin leaned down closer towards the box and held her wand so that she could properly study the object in question with sufficient light. Indeed, there was a keyhole on the lid. Something she hadn't seen in use in the longest time. For a few minutes she tried every spell to open the box she had at her disposal, then however gave up in the light of her company's greater knowledge of such spellwork.

"That really is curious." She said as she straightened her back once more. "Do you want to try?"

"I already have."

"And?"

"There is nothing to be done without the corresponding key. It seems to be entirely unaffected by magic in general. And knowing who the box belonged to, it likely wouldn't do to simply break it open either."

"Pity." Robin sighed, stemming her hands into her hips as she thought. If the box really had been among the important artefacts in the headmaster's office for at least ten years and had still been there when Snape started teaching, then it must have not been in Morgan's possession much longer than the portrait. But if-...

"I can feel you thinking, Robin." Snape interrupted her thoughts before she really could get going deeper. "And usually that results in some brilliant revelation. Enlighten me, yes?"

"Right…" She breathed, nodding both to him and herself. "I was just thinking, if the box was in the headmaster's office from possibly before the time you started school until roughly when you started teaching, then it can't belong to Morgan and also can't have been in his possession for long."

"The latter is obvious, but what brings you to assume the former?"

"Well, when you started school at the tender age of eleven, then Morgan must've been like what, sixteen? Seventeen?" She reasoned, more guessing than knowing, but the point stood nonetheless. "Either way, as you previously pointed out, he is quite the ordinary male with an ordinary mind."

"That we have yet to determine for certain."

"I'm not talking about him going crazy over me, that's another issue entirely so let's just ignore that for a second. What I mean is that at whatever age he was when you started school, he was still a teenager. And how likely is it that a normal teenager possesses artifacts that are important enough to make the headmaster's top shelf?"

"I see your point." Snape mused, frowning to himself again for a moment. "In that case Dumbledore must have given it to him deliberately, at a point in time after I started teaching even though there does not seem to be an apparent reason for that particular timing. Which in return makes it highly unlikely that the contents of this box don't correlate to the portrait in some way."

"Precisely my line of thought."

"That makes it all the more important to find a way to open this crude thing now." He grumbled to himself and went back to studying the box intently. "Obviously Morgan will possess the key, but I sincerely doubt that Dumbledore doesn't still have one as well. He wouldn't part from anything of relevance without precautions."

"Wait, so there can be more than one key?" Robin's mind came to a sudden halt, then toppled over some more and finally changed direction. "I was under the impression that Morgan would logically have the only one."

"I see no reason why there couldn't be more than one. Creating them certainly must be a difficult procedure, but not impossible to replicate over and over again if desired."

"Oh gods…" Her voice grew shallow as her heartbeat sped up in an instant, followed by a cold rush of adrenaline while she mentally chastised herself. They had a lock without a key. She had a key without a lock. How stupid could she be not to make that connection sooner?!

"Minerva's key. Of course…" He came to the same conclusion as her then, eyes widening every so slightly as he watched Robin fumbling with her locket with slightly shaking hands. She had too much adrenaline in her body for anything else, was too exhausted and anxious… But this had to be the reason why McGonagall had given her a key for her birthday, and why she'd been so insistent on it that Robin kept it a secret. She had another key to this box, a key that wasn't supposed to exist.

"Fingers crossed…" Robin said under her breath as she finally put the small piece of metal to good use at last. It fit into the lock easily, and with a weary look up at Snape, Robin finally twisted it in one swift move. It obliged without resistance, and she pulled her hand back as if burnt when not one metallic clicking was heard from inside the box, but multiple in a row. Oh gods, hopefully she hadn't just set off some trap or self destruction or anything of the likes… But after a few seconds, the sounds faded, and the box sat still and innocently as ever on the desk before them.

"Do you wish to open it or shall I?" Snape asked quietly, but even he didn't dare to take his eyes off the box now.

"I'll open it, and you make sure that nothing jumps at me. Like always, yes?" She propositioned, nodding to herself to perhaps shake some of the fear out of her head. This was a good idea… she just needed to make herself believe that now. "We've been in plenty of situations like this before, haven't we? I go off to inspect some potentially dangerous thing, and you make sure I survive it. Isn't that what we always do when we go hunting for ingredients?"

"It is similar enough, yes."

"Good…" She took a deep breath, then placed her hand on top of the lid and looked over at Snape once more for a confirmation of what she was about to do. He motioned for her to go ahead, and after another second of hesitation, Robin finally had enough of herself and flipped the stupid box open with a start.

Nothing jumped at her, nor did she seem to have set off any kind of follow-up spells. It simply was a box, admittedly larger on the inside than the outside, but Robin barely took notice of that any longer, seeing how most of her own boxes and bags were graced with the same magic. What did surprise her however were the contents the box in front of her held now, in all their striking unspectacularity. A look at Snape confirmed that he shared that sentiment to the fullest. They had expected anything at this point… but not just a gigantic stack of parchments, ranging from literally ancient to almost modern.

"Well, at least we have something to look into now…" Robin sighed to herself as she frowned down at the pile of paper in front of her. "There has to be some kind of important information written on these, or nobody would've bothered hiding them that well. They will either give us answers, or leverage on Dumbledore who in return can give us answers."

"Indeed… However this is hardly the time nor place to look through an epos of loose leaf parchments." Snape said in argument with circumstance, which made Robin look up at him again while raising her eyebrows.

"Do you really think we should just take the box? Morgan will notice for sure, and then it won't be hard to guess for him who took it."

"I think we should take the parchments." He returned easily, then motioned to the object in front of them once more. "The lid had a thin layer of dust on it already, which means that Morgan likely knows the contents of these papers at this point and therefore has no need to open the box again any time soon. If we leave the box where it is, and with a bit of luck, he won't notice the papers' absence until we long have the information we need. Until we are ready to face him on equal grounds."

"Clever." Robin replied with a half smile. "As always."

Snape merely rolled his eyes in that exaggerated manner that humour her so much, then they finally went to gather up the papers into a portable pile in his arms. Half a minute later, Robin locked the box back up with her key, then hid the latter back inside her locket.

"What about the portrait?" She asked as they made for the door at last, after having spent decidedly too much time in Morgan's quarters already. "It feels wrong to leave it here, in that place… I know we have to, but it makes me feel sick nonetheless."

"As much as it bothers me, I'm afraid we have to leave it where it is indeed." He answered, then his voice turned into more of a growl than the rich silk it usually was. "But don't believe for even a second that I wouldn't gladly end his pathetic existence for lusting after you like this."

"Because I'm yours and only yours?" She couldn't help asking with a small smile, while she peeked out through the door into the empty hallways first before opening it further for him as well.

"Because you deserve better than that."

"But also because I'm yours."

"Yes."

"You really can't deny that you are quite territorial, you know…"

"I would rather call it protective than territorial."

"Same thing."

"Does it bother you?" He inquired calmly but in seriousness, looking down at Robin over the papers in his arms expectantly.

"Rather on the contrary." She replied with a small but affectionate smile. "It makes me feel almost too giddy with pride and adoration. I just wish you could show a little more of that in public too; would certainly keep the right people from bothering me. Oh well… I wish."

"Believe me, so do I." He sighed in return, then took another look inside Morgan's room once they both stood in the hallway. "Let us hope he will be too drunk upon his return to notice the traces we left."

"Or… I could turn back the time inside the room to before we arrived?" Robin suggested more than asked with a hopeful and pointedly innocent expression. "You know I can freeze objects in time… And I'm actually quite sure that I can turn time back in a limited space just as easily, as long as there are no people inside. That's way more difficult, or rather impossible without a timeturner."

"You are aware that technically tampering with time is forbidden in any regard, yes?"

"So is breaking into a professor's private chambers and stealing his papers."

For half a second Snape seemed to freeze in his protest, then a not-smirk tugged on his lips and he shrugged as far as his arms full of parchments allowed. "I ran out of arguments. Go ahead."

A mirroring smirk played on Robin's lips for a moment, then she took a deep breath and focused on the task at hand. She'd read more about messing with time than she should probably admit, going through the entire restricted section of the library without anyone ever putting a stop to her efforts. Really, all the fun magic was in the restricted section anyway. Everything that was worth learning about. The part about potions and herbology she'd already finished years ago, then the dark arts had followed a long time prior as well, and now finally she had moved on to researching charms, also in regards to the still impending NEWTs.

It took two attempts to cast the difficult spell successfully, but then the room looked precisely how it had before they had entered. Even the layer of dust on the box was back in place and undisturbed by fingerprints. Content with her efforts, Robin finally closed the door and placed the same wards on it that she had removed upon their arrival.

"Do you know what truly is a shame?" Snape asked after a moment, while they quietly made their way back through the dark hallways and down a few stories.

"Quite many things, but please, do enlighten me."

"That neither Morgan nor Flitwick will ever know how ridiculously talented you are in their subjects."

Robin let out a humoured huff in replacement for a certainly too loud chuckle. "Oh, I think Morgan does know at this point. I managed to fend him and his best efforts off after all, even if just barely. Isn't that what defense class is about?"

"About fending off your crazy professor? I certainly hope not."

Now Robin did snort a little, even though the topic itself should have been rather depressing. "It's ironic that I have to defend myself against him with defenses that he himself has taught me. Or rather I would have to, if I hadn't read so much more about the dark arts in advance. What truly saved me today wasn't anything I learned in defense class… but rather the things I came up with myself, or what you showed me. Things Morgan didn't see coming."

"And therefore my point stands."

"How so?"

"Well, any idiot can learn the textbook by heart and master the school taught spells."

"Most idiots can't, in fact, as you very well know. They're far too narrow minded to even accomplish such a thing, and-..."

"Anyway…" He went on, in a manner that reminded Robin an awful lot of her own mannerisms, but she gave him that and let him go on. "What makes you such a brilliant witch and not just an outstanding student is that you don't even try to stay within the given boundaries. Most of the things you excel at are either straight out illegal for most people, or at least so far out of the school curriculum that your teachers will never know what you truly can do."

"I don't really mind." Robin shrugged in return. "It's a good thing that Morgan doesn't know me well enough to know what I can do. That's my only advantage over him."

"I certainly agree with that assessment. Perhaps once Morgan isn't an issue anymore we can see to it that you get the recognition you deserve."

"I just want to ace my NEWTs and move on to more interesting matters of study once and for all. I don't need anyone's recognition. The only person I ever actually tried to impress is you, and that seems to have worked out for me just fine." She replied with a small smirk, which earned her another of those lovely feignedly annoyed expressions in return. They both knew she was right though, she had impressed him so many times and likely always would, and it had indeed worked out in both their favour. And, almost needles to say at this point, Robin felt like they both were equally proud of that fact after all.

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[cowtale-utau]

I know a certain Violet Queen who will be happy to see this go up ;p. Here are the basics of CT’s SwapFellPurple!Sans, aka Doc’s relationships.

Undertale Sans/Ace – These two ran into some conflict pretty early on. Doc is used to running things his way, and completely, where as Ace was not backing down. Eventually things settled down, as while Ace was the “leader” and would always have final say, he was also willing to let someone else do most of the work, so long as they worked in his allowed parameters. Doc deals with all the “menial administrative shit” that Ace hates. There is still a little of a grudge there but its at least a grudging acceptance. Undertale Papyrus/Lief – Lief is soft in ways Doc doesn’t always appreciate. While never needlessly cruel, Doc can be demanding, exacting, and abrasive. He expects people to do as they’re told and do so correctly. Lief is a much softer touch and often goes about “consoling” any “hurt feelings” after Doc has made his rounds. This is more than a little frustrating, and Doc often feels undermined. There have been arguments over it, and the two largely avoid directly interacting. Outside of “work” the two can be cordial, and while they will likely never be friends, there isn’t any animosity. Perhaps a little bitterness though.

Underfell Sans/Chisel – Doc doesn’t particularly care one way or another at this point. He doesn’t dislike Chis’s personality, in fact they do have some things in common, and can have decent conversations. There was a time Doc was very put off by the laziness of some of his counter parts, Chisel included, but has since let it go. Chis does work hard when he really needs to and his mechanical knowledge in invaluable. His opinion ultimately sits between appreciate, exasperation, and neutrality. Underfell Papyrus/Spur – These two did butt heads a fair bit at one point, but have since settled in to camaraderie. There was some issues with respective bossiness, both used to being in control. However Spur quickly caught on that he was never really “in charge” in any kind of practical way, and was in no way prepared to be now. While he was used to issuing orders, he had no expedience actually making people work. Once he acknowledged this, and that he had no interest in changing it, they got along much better. They often train and discuss techniques together when Doc has some down time.

Underswap Sans/Scout – Exasperation might be the kindest thing Doc feels for Scout. Very vaguely, distantly, fond exasperation. While he appreciates that Scout can work very hard, he is also frustrated by how erratic and easily distracted he is. It doesn’t help that Scout would sooner laugh than actually do any work he’s given by Doc. Underswap Papyrus/Piper – While there isn’t any particularly strong attachment here, Doc doesn’t mind Pip at all. He’s mostly quiet and largely stays out of Doc’s “circle”. He does his tasks well and is largely non-disruptive, which Doc appreciates.

Swapfell(Red) Sans/Whip – These two get along a lot better than most would expect. Doc has a surprising level of understanding of Whip’s mentality, and knows how to not only manage his moods but work with him on them. While neither would ever admit it, they can be found some mornings being catty gossips over coffee. Swapfell(Red) Papyrus/Coyote – Doc doesn’t mind Coy. When given a task, he does it well, and Doc appreciates that. Most would assume Doc would be annoyed by Coy’s “lack of initiative” but honestly he just see him as being rather ‘lost’ most of the time, something he can understand. While it was never really an issue for him personally, he does understand that the world and their place in it has rather been up-heaved and adjustment can be hard.

Horrortale Sans/Tender – They don’t interact one on one very often but they get along well enough. Doc pushes people and expects a lot, but he also actually quite reasonable and very understanding of different people’s limitations. He understands what Ten can and can’t do, and as the gang’s primary healer he makes sure to keep track of any changes. Tender is somewhat limited, but also very dedicated to what he can do, and Doc appreciates that. Horrortale Papyrus/Cook – Doc appreciates Cook. He has his role, and he does it to the absolute best of his ability without pushing himself too hard, important traits to earn Doc’s respect. They don’t have a ton in common, but they get along amicably.

Swapfell(Purple) Sans/Doc – Doc is confident, self assured, and comfortable. He knows himself, and what he’s capable of. While Underground, Doc never gave much thought to his “self esteem”, keeping a single minded focus on making sure he and Flint had the best they could in any given circumstance. Upon reaching the Surface, he found he was quite satisfied with who he is. He does have the rare moment of insecurity, where he questions whether he actually deserves what he has and is, given his methods were not always the most morally upright, but it doesn’t take long for him to shake this. He did what he could and had to with what was available, and he refuses to apologize for it. Swapfell(Purple) Papyrus/Flint – Things have gotten much better for these two since surfacing. While they were always close, and often codependent, Doc was often also at odds with Flint over Flint’s addictions. It became a matter of “as long as it directly interfere in anyway, I’ll ignore it” for a long time. When reaching the surface, there was a fair bit of arguing but Flint has started getting it together, as many of the stressors he had previously are gone, and Doc is proud of his little brother’s efforts.

Fellswap Gold Sans/Haze – Somewhere between solid friendship and grudging respect. There is a certain measure of playful competition between them, which as Fells can come off at times hateful to the outside eye. However it is something Doc has great fun with, and considers Haze a dear friend. Fellswap Gold Papyrus/Cirrus – Doc doesn’t mind how soft Cirrus is, but Cir does find him a bit intimidating. There is always an expectation that Doc will start bossing Cir around, and while at one point that may have been a possibility, Doc leaves Cir entirely to Haze. He appreciates Cir’s artistic talents, but has little time of his own for such pursuits. There is no dislike but Doc has firmly placed him in a “not my responsibility” box, so as to avoid any conflicts.

Underlust Sans/Shine – These two aren’t friends as far as Doc is concerned, but they do get along somewhat well. There are parts of Shine that grate deeply on Doc, but he is exceptionally clever in regards to all matters of the mind, and Doc can appreciate this. While confident in his own abilities, Doc does occasionally reach out to verify that his approach shouldn’t have adverse effects on the people involved. Underlust Papyrus/Calico – Calico is a strange and enigmatic sort, and Doc is largely ambivalent to him. While he doesn’t especially mind Cali, there is something unsettling to him that puts Doc, who much prefers the concrete to the esoteric, on edge.

Dancetale Sans/Shuffle – Doc and Shuff bond over their mutual like of children and teaching/guiding. They don’t have much else in common but will happily swap tips/stories. Dancetale Papyrus/Foxtrot – Fox is a bit much for Doc. He doesn’t hate him, but his energy is a bit off putting. While he would find his work ethic impressive, his tendency to ignore his own and others limits irritates Doc as it is inefficient. Doc usually just redirects Fox to elsewhere so as not to deal with him more than needed.

Outertale Sans/Saturn – There is no particular feelings either way here for Doc. They don’t see each other often enough for them to develop a bond or aversion. In the rare interaction, Doc doesn’t mind Saturn, and they can make comfortable small talk. Outertale Papyrus/Mercury – An amicable relationship. They don’t see each other often, but Doc doesn’t mind Mer at all, and will hold a decent conversation with him.

Farmtale Sans/Sage – Doc holds no animosity towards Sage. Doc holds not much of anything towards Sage. If his view could be defined in a singular word, it would be “disregard”. Most are surprised to find Doc cares not at all about Sage’s seemingly lazy and resistant nature. The fact of the matter is, Doc doesn’t care. He has completely dismissed Sage as being beneath effort or even notice. It’s not his job to fix Sage, and he doesn’t care to try. Farmtale Papyrus/Thyme – There is a good bit of mutual respect here. While they are careful to avoid the topic of Thyme’s brother, they both greatly appreciate how hard the other works to keep everything moving smoothly in their respective areas. Both also appreciate matters of the home, and the wish they could indulge in the peaceful domestics more often. Doc does often chide Thyme for not balancing work/life more efficiently, and they are as close to friends as they can get given how infrequently they directly interact.

G!Sans/Aurum – This one is a mixed bag. Aurum is impulsive and often unthinking and it drives Doc batty on the rare occasion he has to deal with it directly. Even more infuriating is that things typically just “work out” for Aur, when by all accounts they should not have. Doc views Aur largely as an unruly barely-adult, and must constantly resist the urge to lecture. He normally just would, but Doc has found the task pointless, and it’s much more effective to simply set Vir on him. Despite all this, he can respect Aur’s drive and work ethic, even if he finds it’s direction often questionable. G!Papyrus/Viridis – Friendly, when they manage to see each other. Doc appreciates Vir’s calm and intellectual nature. They often compare research findings and enjoy discussing assorted healing techniques, mundane and magical.

(Two in a day, as I know a certain someone was excited to see this)

[marcilled]

[this is gonna be a big long post about minecraft youtuber drama... press J to scroll past this if you don’t care about that. lol. sorry]

idunno if anybody took my post the other day as me “cancelling dream for cheating in a videogame”, i posted it mostly out of bemusement of the whole situation, and because that video was really well put-together. (context: his 1.16 speedruns were disqualified by the minecraft speedrun.com moderators & there was a video & document explaining why).

I definitely don’t correlate cheating a speedrun w/ ableism, racism, etc etc. I already knew about a lot of nasty shit dream has done, like the video he did with Notch, and how all of his early content was about pewdiepie, just further normalizing those two to his young audience. I’ve always disliked him for those things, which I’ve been aware of pretty much as long as I’ve known of him, and he has never apologized for those things. It’s why whenever I posted about him before (which was... maybe once or twice?), I always say “don’t stan him or anything he sucks”.

I had no idea there was so much more to it honestly. It’s kind of galling seeing the full context now, because whenever I’ve seen any kind of criticism against him, it’s been him presenting it in an apology. I dunno why I wasn’t suspicious of this given what I already knew about him, but the guy seems to be very clever with how he damage controls any sort of possible controversy regarding him. He presents a really heartfelt, honest apology for whatever happened and gives a few cherrypicked examples of things that people said about him and says how wrong he was and how he doesn’t want to alienate his viewers.

The fact that it’s Dream presenting the evidence of his controversies, means that he gets to control how the conversation goes. Instead of a popular “mcyt” stan account getting to control the conversation, pointing out the shit he’s said and done, he addresses it in a livestream, and does not provide the original context. Huh, I wonder why. It’s almost as if he doesn’t want everyone to see that his mistakes are more than just little “oopsies”, it’s him being actively malicious and getting so defensive that he tells off anybody who could possibly disagree with his view of things.

While his actions and words are pretty horrid on their own, I think the thing that has me most concerned about Dream is... He seems pretty fuckin’ good at manipulating peoples’ perception of him.

-----

After the video about his speedruns being cheated came out the other day, he had this to say on twitter (this is his second, “personal” account):

Now, as I said before, cheating in a videogame isn’t at all comparable to racism or ableism. What I’m trying to point out here is his response to any sort of criticism.

The video he’s referring to is this one, published by Geosquare 2 days ago (dec 11th). What’s interesting to note here is how he singles out Geosquare specifically in this tweet. If you click on the video, the first few seconds establishes that it’s a video made by the entire Minecraft java edition speedrunning mod team (which is made up of a team of over a dozen people). The video and document was a true team effort from every single one of them, and it only got posted to Geosquare’s account (& got his narration) because he’s already a youtuber with a pretty comfortable amount of subscribers.

So, instead of pointing his ire (and those of his many, many fans) at the whole speedrun mod team, instead, he points it squarely on Geosquare, so that people have a convenient name to latch onto. He then accuses Geosquare of using his name as “clickbait” in order to get “easy views”, sowing the seed of this idea that Geosquare is doing this in an opportunistic grab for personal gain. If you clicked on the video and saw the description/pinned comment, you’d see that not only did Geosquare disable monetization on the video, he disabled monetization on his entire channel for as long as this drama goes on (and he knew there would be drama, dream made extra sure to threaten the mods with a video of his own in retaliation if they ended up banning him).

Then, in a reply to the first tweet, he says that there are “multiple moderators” messaging him saying the verdict was “biased” and that they may quit the mod team. He provides no evidence for this. However, if you click on the tweet and view any of the thousands of replies from his fans, it doesn’t matter that he gave no evidence, his word is enough. If you’re wondering, Geosquare and a few other mods have stated many times that it was a group decision on their part, and nobody had any question in their mind that Dream must have cheated. So... Dream, who are these “mods” that are messaging you? He won’t say.

Lastly here, I want to point out that in his next tweet on the matter, he makes this very bitter comment about how useless it was for them to investigate a “16th place run”. It’s a minor detail, but I think it’s worth mentioning; this kind of downplays how impressive his run was at the time. At the time he submitted his sub-20 minute speedrun, it was a top 5 run, in a very competitive category of speedrunning the game. In the 2 months since, several people have passed his time using new strats, but that doesn’t diminish the fact it was a pretty amazing “run”... if it weren’t cheated of course. But, I’m just rambling on about how petty I am about him cheating at this point so let me get back to the main point here.

If you see the numbers on these tweets (hundreds of thousands of likes), you’ll understand why this is pretty scary for those speedrun mods. The same day this happened Geosquare joked around “I’ve only gotten one death threat so far!”. Dream’s fanbase is unparalleled in minecraft youtube, and incredibly sizeable for a youtube channel overall. If you’re not familiar with this new wave of “mcyt” minecraft accounts, it’s... it’s pretty much exclusively because of Dream’s fame. He’s the driving force of minecraft youtube content right now. Any youtuber who even breathes near the guy blows up in subscribers & views. His minecraft server, “Dream SMP”, is like... it has a legitimate cultural impact, whether that sentence disgusts you or not. Especially for young gen Z kids.

The point I’m trying to make is, ever since he came onto the scene in early 2019, he’s grown and grown at exponential rates, and I can’t understate the kind of influence he has on not just his own fans, but the fans of like. Pretty much anyone who is plugged in to anything minecraft youtube related right now.

People have discussed this before, but Dream’s sudden rise to fame happened shockingly quick. So quick that it’s almost impossible it were by accident. He’d spent something like a year or two studying how the youtube algorithm works, how famous youtubers grow their popularity, etc. He spent a lot of time studying, and it paid off for him. It makes me wonder if he’s studied how youtubers deal with controversy as well. Because it seems like he’s doing everything right to keep his fans “loyal” to him.

So I think it’s not unreasonable to say that it is pretty goddamn concerning when he reacts to criticism like this. His immense fanbase, who are often worryingly obsessed with him, of mostly impressionable kids... It’s a recipe for disaster, in the hands of someone so entitled and immature.

I think what really has me worried, though, is a video he published to his second channel the other day. Recently, he published a video about his “stans”. The entire video essentially boiled down to him disputing claims that “dream stans” were toxic, or that stanning people or “stan culture” was creepy/unhealthy. He spent a lot of the video comparing stans of content creators to passionate fans of football teams, and expressed repeatedly how he thought it was normal and OK to be totally obsessed with a content creator and engage in “stan culture”, as long as you weren’t being a legitimate stalker. He pretty much only talked about the positives of being a Dream Stan, and how positive the “community” is. The whole video painted this really idealistic image of what it means to be a Stan of a person, and fandom in general.

Now... I don’t know about everyone else reading this, but I found that video to be... incredibly creepy and weird. It completely ignores any actual arguments about how stan culture can be unhealthy, and how engaging so heavily in parasocial relationships can be quite damaging, especially to younger people.

But, mostly? It seemed like the whole video was basically designed just to reinforce the most unhealthy impulses of his stans, and reward them with the positive encouragement that he actually enjoys it when they are obsessed with him so much that they can’t imagine he could ever possibly do anything wrong.

And that? That is fucking dangerous for a person with such a huge fanbase to be peddling to their fans.

Surely, he must know- a great deal of his fans are so obsessed with him, that they think they know him as well as, if not more than, a personal friend. So that when he does something disagreeable and wrong, and he claims “no that’s not how it happened, they’re biased and trying to cancel me because they’re jealous”, they just take that at face value, because why would he lie? He’s so honest and genuine in his videos and livestreams!

This sort of behavior from Dream, along with his tweets I posted earlier, reads to me as if he knows exactly what he’s doing. I think he is purposefully insulating his fans from the truth of his actions, so that he can present this idealistic picture of him in their mind, so that it seems absurd that he would do something wrong.

I think it’s only a matter of time before it comes out he’s done something much worse, honestly. What it is, is hard to say- he’s already done so much that anyone reading this should rescind their support for him, imo. But, I know that none of this matters to his millions of fans. While I worry for them, I also worry for anyone who becomes a target of Dream. I could see this speedrunning drama being the start of a downward spiral for him. Things could get real ugly with all that minecraft clout getting to his head... I guess we’ll have to wait and see.

TL;DR, dream sucks, and not just because he cheats at videogames.

I apologize again for writing a multi paragraph post about a minecraft youtuber. I will not post about this anymore (probably) please do not unfollow me .

[fictionturnedherbrain]

Marguerite

Full name: Marguerite Blakeney, née St Just

Nick-names: Margot; ‘little mother’

Age: 25 (‘scarcely five-and-twenty’, in September 1792)

Born: August 1767

Place of birth: France

Education: Convent school, Paris; travelled to England to study the language

Currently lives: Blakeney Manor, Richmond, England

Height: ‘Tall above the average’, perhaps 5’ 6”; slender, regal figure

Eye colour: A very fluid blue!

Hair colour: Strawberry blonde (‘reddish-golden’, ‘ardent’)

Facial features: ‘Classic brow’, ‘sweet, almost childlike mouth’ with ‘full lips’, ‘straight chiselled nose’, ‘round chin’ and a ‘delicate throat’

Marital status: Wife of Sir Percy Blakeney, Bt. They met at Versailles, during a banquet held for the Flanders regiment on October 3, 1789. Two years later, they were married at the Church of St Roch, Paris, ‘just like that’, ‘without a soirée de contrat or diner de fiançailles’

Family: Brother, Armand St Just (eight years her senior). Parents died when Marguerite was ‘but a child’

Occupation: A gentlewoman. Formerly an actress with the Comédie Française. Also a member of the League of the Scarlet Pimpernel, 1792-1795 (‘You are a member of the League of the Scarlet Pimpernel. The most adored. The most revered amongst all’)

Interests: Society hostess (balls, routs, suppers, etc.); music (operas, particularly Glück’s Orpheus); reading (contemporary novels, such as Fielding’s Tom Jones); setting the trend in fashion (‘She wore the short-waisted, classical-shaped gown, which so soon was to become the approved mode in every country in Europe’); the company of her friends, Suzanne Ffoulkes, Juliette Deroulede, Yvonne Dewhurst

Passions: Time alone with her husband (‘Moments like this, when she was alone with him, were the joy of her life’); the late night drives from London to their Richmond home (‘a source of perpetual delight to Marguerite’)

Character: Once an enthusiastic republican and feted actress, courted by men such as the Scarlet Pimpernel’s arch-enemy, Citizen Chauvelin (‘one of the many satellites that revolved around brilliant Marguerite St Just’ ), Marguerite gave all up for love. Yet despite exchanging the Paris stage for London and Bath society, she still holds true to the ideals of the Republic, even after personal experience has made her detest what people will do in the name of liberty. She does not judge by wealth or class, only by individual intelligence and creativity – and how these gifts are utilised. Marguerite is also very impulsive in her actions, and is often guided by instinct, whether wisely or foolishly. She has a passionate and loving nature, dedicating herself wholly to those she cares for – her brother Armand, and her husband, Percy. Her selfless concern for others has on occasion actually imperilled those she would give her life to save, so forceful is her desire to actively protect the people she loves. Her loyalty to her husband, the Scarlet Pimpernel, has never wavered, and has been tested many times. Initially insecure that his love for her, though great, was not as devoted as her own for him (‘He loved her and went away!’), Marguerite has learned to trust in her husband’s seemingly boundless good luck and ingenuity, supporting his dangerous mercy missions instead of trying to hold him back (‘the noble-hearted woman, whose very soul was wrapped up in the idolised husband, allowed herself to ride by his side on the buoyant waves of his enthusiasm’). She has even taken an active role in the League’s adventures, preferring to face her husband’s fate rather than be left without him (“If you go, I go with you”). If she sometimes gives into the emotional strain, and pleads for Percy to put her needs first, it is only because his love has come to shape Marguerite’s life (‘ the one man who had made her so infinitely proud and happy in his love’) ; from a young girl who thought herself incapable of love, and who claimed to have married for wealth and position, she has matured into a woman who is happiest in the company of her husband, and who will suffer any hardship to be with him. Marguerite has suffered greatly since learning of her husband’s dual identity, but she has also found a soul mate and earned the love of a noble-hearted, adventurous, and intense individual - somebody a lot like herself (“Are we not one, you and I?”) She understands that Percy’s honour is bound up in the reputation of the Scarlet Pimpernel, and that the strength of his love for her is proven by his dedication to others: ‘Nay, it intensified it, made it purer and better’.

Marguerite is not unaware of her physical charm, as it has helped to advance her career and attract admirers who flatter her vanity – but how much of her confidence is natural, and how much an act? Does she believe all that people tell her, about her beauty, wit and talent, or is she hiding behind a studied role?

Actress Vs. Child Marguerite definitely has a pampered ego, and will not let her guard down in public. Her republican philosophy that ‘money and titles may be hereditary, but brains are not’ seems to stem from her own self-image, rather than any political influence: she has only equals in society, never betters. When the aristocratic Comtesse de Tournay crosses Marguerite in public, the bourgeois actress regards her with ‘hard, set eyes’. Yet when the Comtesse refuses to let Marguerite speak to daughter Suzanne, a childhood friend of Marguerite’s, a ‘wistful, almost pathetic and childlike look’ replaces the defiant glare. This is Marguerite’s core: the young Mme. St Just within the haughty, practiced Lady Blakeney, and few are allowed to penetrate her perfect facade; only when she is alone can Marguerite relax, like one ‘long oppressed with the heavy weight of constant self-control’.

Love The key to earning Marguerite’s love is to win her trust. For all her brilliance and popularity, the twenty-five year old actress-turned-lady is emotionally insecure; before meeting Sir Percy, she had already consigned herself to a life alone: ‘I naturally believed it was not in my nature to love’. Why should such a beautiful, successful and young woman have closed her heart to happiness? After her rather unexpected and unconventional marriage, it was claimed that Mademoiselle St Just was a ‘brilliant matrimonial prize’ for which ‘there had been many competitors’, and this can be believed – but how many men might have proposed, how far they got, and what happened to them, seems not to have affected Marguerite. Even when speaking of Sir Percy, in the early days of their marriage, she can only say that she would have allowed herself to be ‘worshipped’ and ‘given infinite tenderness in return’; she does not speak of her love for him, because, at that point, she is not able to recognise it in herself (‘A woman’s heart is such a complex problem’).

Marguerite’s concept of love, as with her support of the revolution, is purely idealistic: she has notions of how it should be, but her upbringing has sheltered her from gaining any experience of the realities. Her formative years were spent in a Paris convent, where she was educated alongside the wealthy children of noble families, such as Suzanne de Tournay. After her education (she and Suzanne travelled to England, at one point, to study the language), Marguerite became an actress, making her debut at the Comédie Française when she was eighteen. Yet instead of succumbing to the attentions of male admirers at the theatre and perhaps becoming somebody’s mistress, she seems to have immersed herself in the romance and morality of the plays in which she acted, waiting for a ‘perfect love’ which might not exist. Percy’s slavish devotion to her flattered her vanity, but also appealed to her romantic imagination: when she talks of the Pimpernel, unaware of the connection with her husband, Marguerite reflects that ‘there was a man she might have loved’, the ‘shadowy king of her heart’ so like a character upon the stage in his bravery, chivalry and anonymity. She admits that she was ‘vain and frivolous’, attracted by Percy’s wealth and position, and takes advantage of all the trappings of her new lifestyle when he withdraws his love. Material possessions and a grand home in which to entertain a new court of admirers, however, are only superficial distractions; as Lady Blakeney, Marguerite is ‘lonely in the midst of her grandeur’.

Though praised for her beauty, wit and talent, Marguerite has always felt secretly undeserving and mistrustful of anything more than token flattery. Her vanity can accept compliments with ‘inimitable grace’, but she is wary of having to give anything in return. Though initially attracted to Sir Percy’s ‘curious intensity of concentrated passion’, it is the fact that she perceived him as ‘slow and stupid’ – or safe and submissive – which allowed Marguerite to overcome that main obstacle and agree to marriage. A clever or busy man would soon tire of Marguerite’s charms, her looks and her witty conversation, but she believed that an unquestioning slave such as Sir Percy would always worship her as a goddess, and bend to her will – which she accepted as no more than her due.

When Percy rejects her as soon as she becomes his wife, Marguerite is lost. She is ‘grateful’ to him, for his generosity, unceasing civility and polite attentions, but cannot comprehend the change in his attitude towards her. Loneliness, fear and a bruised ego cause her to defend herself in the only safe way she knows – by hiding her feelings behind a mask, and acting the role of her own life: ‘she, too, had worn a mask in assuming a contempt for him’. To maintain her dignity in public, and to try and rouse a strong reaction from her husband in private, Marguerite takes to mocking Sir Percy, who has similarly retreated behind the guise of society fop: she tries to ‘goad him to self-assertion’; ‘even amused herself by sharpening her ready wits at his expense’. When he merely accepts her taunts, she tries to stir his jealousy by flirting with other men, but Percy leaves her alone to do as she wishes, ‘to flirt, dance, to amuse or bore herself as much as she liked’, such is his pain over her apparent deception. Marguerite, like a vindictive child, wants to hurt her husband as much as the unexplained withdrawal of his love has hurt her, and says ‘cruel, insulting things, which she vaguely hoped would wound him’, but it is only her vanity that has been insulted. She assumed, before they married, that he would accept anything she did or said. Burdened with the guilt of her rash act of revenge, Marguerite told Percy of her part in the execution of the St Cyr family, trusting that her ‘boundless power’ over him would suppress his judgement of her, and took his silence as a lack of comprehension. Blinded by his devotion, Marguerite didn’t bother to learn about her husband’s true personality, just as he idolised his own image of her; only when she confronts her husband, after a year of estrangement, does she realise that her initial hesitation in confiding in him shattered his illusion of the ‘angel’ he married. When the permanence of marriage breaks the spell of their brief courtship, they begin to find out who it is they think themselves in love with. Percy learns about Marguerite’s human failings through her denunciation of the Marquis, and Marguerite must accept the exaggerated persona of her husband’s pride as his true self.

Armand ‘Her love for her brother, Armand St Just, was deep and touching in the extreme’: Marguerite is mother, sister, friend to Armand, and because he is the only person she can trust without reserve, ‘whom she dared to love’, the bond between them becomes like a lifeline to her. Losing their parents at a young age blurred the roles of their relationship: Armand, elder by eight years, became a father figure and chaperone to his young sister, and Marguerite, when she was old enough, provided a maternal influence in her brother’s life. Having Armand ‘near her to love and protect her, to guard her from the many subtle intrigues which were raging in Paris’ has obviously been a regulating factor in Marguerite’s unconventional upbringing. It is possible to imagine that he has saved her from her own guileless and impulsive nature, steering her away from unwelcome attentions on more than one occasion. Marguerite is naïve and sensitive beneath her cool attitude and arrogant beauty – she needs the advice of others to help her actively confront difficult situations, otherwise she is content to let events happen to her. And when she does act on impulse, to avenge her brother and her own injured pride, she is blind to the consequences until it is too late. Her denouncement of the treasonous Marquis de St Cyr, an unfortunate combination of her own petty desire for revenge and gullible nature, is the event which separates Marguerite and Percy immediately after their wedding.

Armand’s pivotal role in her life, however, makes Marguerite afraid to release her brother and trust in anybody else. Before he is to return to France, she holds him with ‘sudden strong, almost motherly passion’, and pleads with him that, “I have only you to care for me”, when what she probably means is that she has only Armand to love her. Her protective over-reaction is understandable, considering that Armand’s life is constantly under threat as a citizen of revolutionary France, but neither does Marguerite want to be left ‘alone’. Her brother’s first visit since beginning her new life in England as Lady Blakeney can only have intensified Marguerite’s feelings of loneliness and estrangement as a Frenchwoman in exile; her brother is her ‘home’, a link to the life she left behind. Already convinced that she will never love another being as wholly as she does her brother, ‘the only being in the whole world who has loved me truly and constantly’, her sisterly and maternal concerns for his safety are multiplied by her own fears of losing the last member of her immediate family, and being completely abandoned in a strange country with a husband who is cold towards her. Armand tries to reassure her, understanding ‘the reserve which lurked behind her frank, open ways’, but he is not as dependent upon her as she is with him.

Marguerite reveals to Armand the truth of her marriage, and hints at how unhappy she is in her new life, but her pride will not allow her to break down completely. After only a year apart, Armand finds himself locked out of his sister’s deepest confidence, and has to form his own conclusions based on his understanding of Marguerite’s nature. He realises that she has misjudged and underestimated her husband, not recognising that he could be as proud and headstrong as her until it was too late, and that her bargaining on a ‘fool’ might have been miscalculated. Armand regrets the distance between them, but as Lady Blakeney, she will not let down her guard, even to her brother.

Fate

Until she follows her husband to Paris to save his life, attempting to redeem herself by repairing the consequences of her actions, Marguerite tends to view the choices she makes as being beyond her control: ‘Fate had decided, had made her speak, had made her do a vile and abominable thing’. Without the support of a third party to ‘shift from her young, weak shoulders this terrible burden of responsibility’, Marguerite disassociates herself from her actions, in a defensive bid to spare her conscience: ‘What had she done to have deserved all this?’ Perhaps the greatest example of this is her view of the St Cyr executions, and the extent of her role in their downfall. The Marquis was a traitor to his country, a royalist and an aristocrat seeking military intervention from Austria, and this information was known by other people before Marguerite learned of it ‘amongst her own coterie’, but this doesn’t change the fact that she then, with ‘a few thoughtless words’, denounced the Marquis to the Assembly (probably via Chauvelin). Nor was her desire for retribution motivated by patriotism or political ideals – the Marquis’ crime was personal: ‘what her brother must have suffered in his manhood and his pride must have been appalling; what she suffered through him and with him she never attempted to even analyse’. Still naïve and immature, for all her renowned salon wit, Marguerite failed to foresee the fatal consequences of her actions, although her ‘friends’ were fully aware (‘they trapped and duped me’). ‘Horrified’ at the repercussions of her ‘thoughtlessness’, Marguerite ‘strain[ed] every nerve, us[ed] every influence’ to reverse what she had set in motion and save the St Cyrs, but it was ‘too late’. Satisfied that she had done all she could, Marguerite was able to convince herself that ‘fate had merely stepped in’, and that she was actually ‘morally innocent’. Spiteful, ignorant and easily influenced, she probably didn’t think beyond humiliating the Marquis, who had punished her brother, and therefore insulted her own bourgeois background, for being socially beneath his family – but that she did so in a petty bid for revenge makes Marguerite far from blameless.

Entirely free of false humility, Marguerite is equally aware of her attractions and her failings. She complains to Chauvelin about the incongruence of living in a land of ‘fogs and virtues’, and observes to the Prince of Wales that ‘virtue is like precious odours, most fragrant when it is crushed’. Marguerite’s bohemian lifestyle as an actress, earning a living in deception and courted as a republican mascot, contrasts sharply with her strict and pious childhood in the convent, and the dichotomy of the two goes a way towards explaining her liberal yet penitent attitude to life. Whereas there is no doubt that Marguerite enjoys life, as the ‘darling of a brilliant throng, adored, feted, petted, cherished’, with ‘the joy of living writ plainly’ upon her face, her generous and compassionate spirit is easily disturbed by the cruelty and suffering around her. Her cynical wisdom and sharp wit display a pensive and distrustful side to her youthful personality, as she warns her brother that ‘little sins are far less dangerous and uncomfortable’. An ardent supporter of the ‘lofty virtues’ that inspired the Revolution, Marguerite welcomed the new Republic, but when the words and visions of philosophers like Rousseau and Mirabeau were replaced by the harsher realities of violence and executions, she was horrified and quickly abandoned the bloody excesses of France for the security of England.

Class

Marguerite is trapped between social plateaus in ‘The Scarlet Pimpernel’: proclaiming herself a republican with ‘an enthusiasm for liberty and equality’, she is originally from a middle-class background, elevated in her own sphere by her beauty and wit, and then removed from her queenly position in Paris to become a pretender to the aristocracy in England upon her marriage. Sir Percy is a baronet, on the next to the lowest rung of the peerage, but his wealth, good name and novelty value in the Prince of Wale’s court ensure that he is accepted amongst the higher ranks of society (at least two of the League are lords). However, this still makes rather a hypocrite of Marguerite, who, despite professing that ‘money and titles may be hereditary, but brains are not’, seems to enjoy her new status. She accepts ‘jewels and luxuries’ from Sir Percy, in place of affection and a happy marriage, and adapts to the privilege and insularity of English society within a year. At Brogard’s inn, when she and Sir Andrew travel to Calais to warn Percy that Chauvelin is on his trail, Marguerite is disgusted by her fellow ‘citizen’, thoroughly acting the part of the pampered aristocrat as she holds her handkerchief to her ‘dainty nose’ and stares ‘in horror’ at her surroundings.

She and Chauvelin are both idealists, preferring rhetoric to action; when the diplomat seeks to enlist her patriotic assistance in Dover, Marguerite asks, ‘What can I do, here in England?’ Overhearing her confrontation with the haughty Comtesse de Tournay, Chauvelin confronts Marguerite with this typical example of social injustice in the hope that her bruised pride will make her an ally, but Marguerite can defend herself. Instead of betraying the brave Pimpernel to punish the undeserving aristocrats he rescues, such as the de Tournays, Marguerite calls the Comtesse’s bluff with the aid of the Prince of Wales, ‘with a wealth of mischief in her twinkling blue eyes’. As a bourgeois actress, Marguerite has suffered the prejudice and arrogance of the aristocracy, inspiring her faith in the Republican creed of ‘liberty, equality, fraternity’, but her popular reception amongst the London ton, and the Royal protection she enjoys as a friend of the Prince of Wales, tempers her vehemence. Marguerite’s primary motivation is safeguarding the security and happiness of herself and those closest to her: to avenge a brother, she spoke out of spite, and to provide for her future, she turned on her homeland. Money and titles may not matter to Marguerite, but neither will she renounce personal advantages on principle; without ‘her rank, her dignity, her secret enthusiasms’, she is always Marguerite St Just.

[avas-inner-demons-are-babies]

Ohana

Ship: None (Though you may take implications as you please)

Summary: Leif has always insisted that he should be allowed to do things on his own. Well, now he’s on his own and honestly...he isn’t enjoying it. Perhaps a bit of new company can help him sort out his feelings. 

A/N: Hey everyone! World’s most confused college freshman here, bringing you another MID fic that took waaay to long to get typed up. Legitimately, this has been sitting in my Google Docs for months, just taunting me. But there’s been a little less stresso in my espresso lately, so I took time to actually make myself sit down and get it done. I may not ship Ava and Leif personally, but their dynamic is just *chefs kiss*. I’ll never get over that whole “If you promise not to kill me then I won’t leave you behind.” “You’re with me till you die” scene. It makes me feel things. But anyways, this is nearly 14 full pages in G-Docs, and I hope you can all enjoy!

A/N 2.0: So apparently one of the cons of staying up late to finish a fic is forgetting to attach the actual fic itself to the post. My bad guys, here she be. 

In his couple hundred years of living, Leif can proudly boast that he has done many, many things; some very common for Daemos of his age; others common to those much older than him; and there have even been a few select occasions when he has done things that even the most aged and experienced elders cannot ever claim to have done (getting exiled, befriending a prince, travelling dimensions to a world full of humans, befriending a human, living with a human, laughing with a human...the list seems to grow daily now).

However, out of all the various activities that he has taken part in throughout his life, he can safely say that people-watching has not been one of them. Back on Daemos, staring- like most other interactions, whether they be direct or otherwise- often resulted in battle; which, in turn, resulted in a lot of shouting and blood-shed. It was a silent show of disrespect and of challenge; and only idiots and warriors sought out battles willingly. And while the title of ‘warrior’ technically goes hand-in-hand with Leif’s recently earned place as a knight, the position is just that- recently earned. And despite what some may say, he is not an idiot. Considerate? Scholarly? Absolutely not. But street-smart and clever? Let’s just say he hadn’t become an infamous assassin by running solely off of reckless impulse and uneducated whims. But now, here on Earth, almost all of those skills have fallen into uselessness, and he can people-watch without any real concern for his life. 

And by the Gods is he watching.

He is watching and scanning and listening and praying. Praying for a familiar face. Listening for the sound of a high voice discussing things of no importance, or for a loud, bratty complaint about anything at all; for a gentle-but-stern reprimand laced with patience, or a subtly nervous acknowledgement of some strange discomfort; even for a soft-but-proud observation of something completely obvious. Scanning for a flash of hot pink eyes or a bobbing carrot-top head of hair or a giant amidst the crowd of short humans. Watching so intensely for all of these things that the rest of the world seems to have filtered down into a watery hum. 

To put it quite plainly, Leif is lost. Very lost in a very crowded place, with no idea where his group has vanished to or where he himself should (or even can) be. It had been fun at first; being able to do as he pleased; wandering wherever his whims decided to take him, stealing food from a group of small humans, kicking over trash cans, and just overall being a minor nuisance. But invigoration tends to fade very quickly  when one is travelling a lot of unfamiliar terrain, and as it goes, so too does energy. It doesn’t help that they’d been at this “music festival” -as Ava had called it- for quite some time before he’d broken away from her and the others, and admittedly, he is starting to feel the strain on his feet from all the walking. In addition, the ridiculously large gathering of humans that bustle around him is beginning to leave him overwhelmed. And on top of that…

  “...it’s starting to get cold” He pouts internally, suddenly rather grateful for the double-layered, long sleeve human shirt that Ava had gotten him. Ever since the Fall Festival, he’d noticed the air outside growing chillier by the day. It was starting to get to the point where their thoughtful human host unusually protective prisoner was considering going back to the Sacred Ma’all and obtaining them some “coats and hats and stuff”, to quote her specifically.

As a particularly nippy gust of winds arrives, lashing the tips of his ears as it dances through, he finds himself wishing desperately for these objects that he can not even properly picture.

Looking up at the sky, Leif can just make out the thin line of orange coating the horizon as the sun begins its lazy descent. Eyes narrowed, he decides to take a break. Plomping himself down on a nearby bench, he sighs, combing his fingers through his absolute mess of a mane. 

  “Ava promised.” He whispers, “She promised. They’ll be back. They have to come back.”

The city-dwelling regulars that skitter past him hardly spare a glance for the strange, mumbling man on the bench. It’s nothing they don’t already see on their daily commutes, and most would not blame them for their experienced silence. But Leif, who has no way of knowing what they know, takes their purposefully imposed ignorance as a personal offence. He feels segregated from their reality. Invisible.

Alone.

Leif hisses in a sharp breath as the word taunts him. Pressing his head into the palms of his hands, he represses a shudder. He should be used to this by now; being left to his own devices. How many times now has it been? How many betrayals and abandonments? Four? Five? More than one person should be able to count. He has been able to handle himself just fine before. So why now? Why now is he having such issues with finding his own way? He might call it ironic if he knew the meaning of the word.

  “It’s because you got used to the cushy life.” A small voice in the back on his thoughts croons, “You liked being chummy with the Prince and his guard dogs. You liked that there was always food at the ready, and that you never had to worry where you were sleeping next. You liked the stability. The safety. And in time, you even came to like the laziness that this new world allowed.”

  “That’s not true!” Leif barks back, not realizing how loud the proclamation was until several humans passing by wince and stumble as their paces quicken. He is sure to lower his voice as he continues to mumble to himself, “I can still take care of myself. I haven’t gone soft. I can do this.”

Taking in a long deep breath, he steels his will against the unpleasant thoughts racing around in his head. He bows his head and closes his eyes. When he opens them again a few ticks later, there’s a clear change. They’re collected. Focused.

  “Yeah. Yeah, I can do this.” He reassures himself, feeling some of that original vamped-up feeling return, “I’m a Daemos dammit! I don’t need some human to hold my hand! I’ll find my own way home! And then.-then I’ll kill them! I’ll kill them for leaving me!”

The mental pep talk does great things for Leif. Now enraged and brimming with confidence, breathing heavily and nearly quaking with the emotion of it all, he puts on a sneer and glares out into the crowd. His fingers flex as he summons forth his sickles, ready to swing them out at any unfortunate soul that crosses his path. He stands, his knuckles white around their hilts. The dying sunlight has no effect on him anymore. His goal is apparent in his mind. He is prepared. Determined. 

He takes one strong, bold step forward…

...and is subsequently swept off his feet by the force of a group of teens pushing past him.

Nearly losing his balance, Leif’s arms flail in an attempt to regain his balance, and he immediately bumps into a young couple. As they turn on him with vicious glares, he steps away from them. Disorientation takes this chance to rush through his system. As he fumbles about, one of his sickles manages to catch on the shirt of a small child toddling by with his mother. Leif jerks one direction while the boy jerks in the other. A shirt sleeve tears, and the little one goes sprawling to the ground. An ear-piercing shriek explodes from tiny lungs. All heads turn in their direction. Wide-eyed Leif throws away his weapons and presses his hands against his sensitive ears. While staggering away from all the attention, he runs into yet another man who- being caught completely off guard- falls back into someone behind him. As the domino effect continues, the noise and panic cause the poor Daemos to go into full flight mode. Gritting his teeth, he gathers just enough control to take a flying leap over the top of the completely bewildered mob. He lands back near the bench and grasps it tightly to keep himself from falling to his knees. As he takes a seat once more, the humans are all glancing around and shouting at each other in offense. The child continues crying.

Thoroughly defeated, Leif allows his head to fall back as he slumps down into the wooden comfort. Then, he lifts it back up only to cradle it in his hands. The unwelcome tears brought on by pure fear sting at the corners of his eyes. Releasing a shaky sigh, he finally gives into the thought that he has so far been refusing to voice. 

  “I’m doomed.”

***

Soaring high above the head of one particularly shaken Daemos, a careless pigeon makes its way around the festival with ease. Drifting aloof above the sea of hundreds of singing and laughing humans, it follows the breeze along the street and down towards one particular block, where a vendor has been handing out pretzels. And at this moment, it just so happens that a young woman, with flowing dark hair and vibrant pink eyes, has just dropped the remaining half of her salted treat on the ground. The pigeon is quick to join several of its other brethren in tearing at the free meal to pieces, completely unaware that shock is what delivered this wonderful treat to them. Although, they learn very soon after, as said young woman lets off a loud, horrified shout. Grey feathers go flying as the band disperses in a threatened rush. 

The group of men trailing behind the woman jerk in surprise.

  “Princess Ava? What’s wrong?” The youngest, a concerned looking redhead, calls out. 

Ava stares at her companions with a feverish look. Pointing at each of them individually, the others can hear her counting them, over and over again.

  “One, two, three, four...two, three, four...three, four, four, four! Why are there only four of you!” Her voice raises in both pitch and volume, “Where’s Leif?!”

Her words seem to settle with them all at the exact same time. The tallest of the bunch, Pierce, begins flickering his gaze from face to face, searching for the former-assassin in the horde of people around them. Rhys, Noi, and Asch all turn off in different directions, then come back and share a look. They all focus on Ava, who has turned to the ground with guilt-ridden eyes. 

  “How could I...he was just with us not too long ago, right? Right?” Her frantic question is only met with uncertain silence from her companions. Rhys goes as far as to look away, nibbling on his ice pop, “Oh God. We have to find him! Leif!”

Ava begins pushing her way through the crowd, crying out to her missing friend. The boys stick to her like frightened ducklings as they mimic her steps. Their screams rise above the swell of music and voices. 

  “Leif, where are you!”

***

As his friends begin their desperate hunt a few streets away, Leif finds himself aimlessly ambling along through the park. He has discovered that there are less people back within these tree-sheltered pathways and he is grateful for it. He is on the hunt for something, although if he were asked he would not be able to say exactly what. Shelter? Company perhaps? A sign pointing home would be nice, but he can’t really read all that well, and he doubts that there is one around regardless. For a natural-born hunter, he certainly does have an awful sense of direction.

His fingers tap against his thigh as he walks. On occasion, he mumbles curses at himself for getting stuck in this situation. The night sky is clear and bright, and more than once he finds himself staring up at it, feeling as though the stars are laughing at his plight. Gaining a little comfort in the embrace of the shadows, he sticks to them, glancing over every now and again to see a straggling human stroll by. He passes the fountain where he and Ava had encountered the threatening ‘clique’;passes a large stone statue of some long-dead human frozen in time; passes what looks to be a small garden area, where brightly colored flowers glow in the moonlight. 

Eventually, Leif reaches an area that he first assumes to be abandoned. The quiet and empty wrap around him like a blanket. His only company seems to be the soft glow from the scattered lampposts. The peace here cradles him in its arms and promises him safety. He’s almost relaxed, resigning to spend the night in whatever tree provides the most cover and warmth, when suddenly-

  “Heya there compadre.”

Leif startles back several feet and does a neat little twirl to face the direction of the slow and kindly voice that had called out to him. How he had missed the strange human before him in his first look around is beyond Leif, but he certainly sees the man now. He sits leaning against the nearest tree with an air of remiss and a smile on his face. Upon seeing Leif’s reaction to his greeting, he puts his hands up in reassurance

  “Hwoa there! Didn’t mean to startle ya friend. Just couldn’t help but notice that you were lookin’ a tad lost.” 

  “We’re not friends.” Leif interjects so instinctively that he nearly cuts the stranger off. Then, catching his own tongue before he says anything truly offensive, he reroutes with, “But...yeah, I am lost. I got seperated from my group a while ago and haven’t been able to find them since. And I’m not very familiar with your kingdom yet, so I can’t just go back home.”

Thanks to the poor lighting between them, the Daemos misses how the stranger’s eyebrows quirk a little at his self-correction (and yet not the use of ‘kingdom’?). But as he makes his way over to this new human, Leif does begin to take in the man’s overall messy and unkempt appearance. His long, auburn hair is wrapped up into an extremely makeshift ponytail, the length of which surpasses even that of Pierce’s or Ava’s. The many rebellious strands held back out of his face by a thick, green fabric headband that’s stretched across his forehead. It must have been made to match the long, tassled poncho that he wears, their colors the same. Beneath it, he only seems to have a miserably stained grey shirt, and pants so baggy that Leif can not imagine them being comfortable. His skin, which at first appeared to simply be naturally dark, is actually merely a deceptive tan which highlights every freckle, scar, and wrinkle. Leif is sure that if he were to touch the stranger, he might have an almost leathery feel to him. Teeth no whiter than a well-worn paperback fill in a broad smile that brings to life the creases around the edges of both the stanger’s lips and eyes. Eyes that are brown like a healthy farm soil, and seem to hold a level of spirit and life that Leif can never recall having seen in any other person before. It’s unfiltered blatancy is surprising to him.

  “Well ahh, what’cha waitin’ for?” The stranger suddenly picks up the conversation, scooching slightly to the right and patting the ground beside him, “Come’n take a seat. We can vibe while the universe carries the train of life down its long tracks.”

Leif hesitates. The human before him might be a stranger, but he emits an image that reminds the Daemos of the forest spirits that could be found back in his own world. The Earth seems comfortable around him. If one squinted, it would almost seem as though the tree’s trunk and roots had warped to form a throne around him.

  “He seems like a powerful sage. I should stay. Maybe he can help me.”

Nodding to himself more so than the man, Leif takes his place on the grass. This results in a wide, toothy grin on behalf of his companion, and being so close now, Leif is able to notice how one of his canines is missing.

  “Joyous day! You’ll be the first bit of company I’ve had in a long time my fellow wanderer. Say now, what’s your name?” 

  “They call me Leif.”

  “Leaf? The name of a freelancer. A young man born for travel and change. A soul that dances in the wind, its colors ever uncertain.” The man’s smile softens and his eyes stare off in Leif’s general direction, and yet seem to be staring at something miles away, “You and I, I’m sure we’re the same. I’ve had many a name myself, but most around here know me as Jingle. It’s a pleasure to meet’cha.”

Jingle holds out a hand and they shake. Leif has seen this done enough times on the tee-vee to be able to properly pull it off, even if he doesn’t quite understand the significance. Then, glancing over his shoulder, Jingle proceeds to reach back and pull, from behind the tree, a forgeign looking object. 

The thing is clearly made from some kind of light and polished earth wood. Its beige surface has been very delicately carved with a swirling, wave like pattern that decorated almost the entirety of its pear shaped body. A large round hole rests a little ways above the bottom. Stretched taut up its middle and along the long arm protruding from the top are six silver strings, wrapped at both ends around small metal nubs. At the head of the arm are six knobs all turned in various directions. None of the silver pieces shine, and in fact seem quite well worn. Nearly all of the impressive wood surface is riddled with scratches.

Jingle positions the thing against his chest. 

  “What is that?” Leif asks, eyeing it with unease.

  “This here is my trusty guitar Taylor. I know she isn’t much compared to those clunky metal demons they’re selling out there-” Here, he nods his head out in the direction of the still-ongoing festival, “-but she does me just fine. So long as I keep her pretty, she sings like an angel.”

  “It...sings?”

  “As sweet and humble a tune as you might ever hear. Here, have a listen.”

With his nimble fingers already poised to play, Jingle wastes no time in coaxing a tune out from the air. From the first pluck of a string, Leif finds himself utterly enraptured. Each swift movement of the human’s hand brings forth another new wave of sound so soft and breathtaking that the Daemos doesn’t even know how to process it. It is as if Jingle’s soul is completely in tune with the instrument in his grasp. Leif sits stunned, feeling the music tempt his very heart and bring prickles to his skin. A minute passes, and he soon finds himself lying completely relaxed against the tree trunk, eyes closed, and merely absorbing.

Jingle plays for some time, and for that time the two are in their own universe. It is very dark now, and Leif can feel his mind just starting to slip off in unconsciousness. His body is heavy. Connected to the very grass he sits upon by an unnamable force that he chooses to call exhaustion. When his company eventually brings the song to an end, it takes Leif a few moments to reconnect with reality. Green eyes blink several times, and turn to find that Jingle is already watching for his reaction.

  “That was amazing.” Leif breathes in as soft a tone as he’s capable of.

  “Jus’ like I told ya. Voice of an angel.” Jingle hums, parroting his earlier words. He shifts to place Taylor on the ground beside him. When he turns back, he finds Leif staring into the space above them with a small frown on his face, “My friend, what troubles you? The world weighs heavy on your shoulders tonight.”

  “I’m not sure. I just…” Leif trails off, searching within himself for an explanation for the crushing weight in his chest, “I think I miss my friends. I keep wanting them to be here, but they probably already left. I don’t think they’re coming back for me.”

They sit quietly for a few minutes. Jingle peers off down the park path. Leif clears his throat in a battle against the tight feeling that fills it. He jumps when a gentle hand lands on his shoulder. 

  “Lighten your soul wanderer Leif. Everyone leaves sooner or later, but just because they’ve left doesn’t mean they are gone. Pray tell, what doubts whisper in your ear tonight?”

  “Eh?”

  “Why do you assume so quickly that your friends won’t return to you?”

  “Oh. The way you talk is really weird, you know that?”

The human man only smiles at him, patience and expectancy in his eyes. He makes a light gesture with his hand, urging Leif to continue. And after several seconds, he does with a tamed sigh. 

  “I’ve had a lot of people tell me that I cause more trouble than I’m worth.” The simple admission seems to close a giant force around his ribs. As it squeezes painfully, he finds himself emptying more words than he ever knew he had been filling up with, “I know I tend to go overboard most of the time, but I never- no, I guess just lately- I mean, I haven’t been meaning to cause problems recently. Everything is just so...so calm here, and I don’t know how to live like that. Back on- I mean, back where I’m from, peace and quiet always meant something was wrong, and we hardly go anywhere or do anything, and I just get so bored! I hate just sitting around and doing nothing, but it seems like that’s all the others want to do anymore. And I know I could probably just go out for a while on my own and burn some energy but your world is so big and I just...I don’t want to end up on my own again.”

He gives a forced and pitiful huff of laughter.

  “Although I guess it’s too late for that now. I’m sure they probably already went home and forgot about me. They’re probably relieved to get rid of me.”

Leif hadn’t meant to let that flooding fear leak into his words. Or that harsh scratchiness of his throat, which left breaks in his sentences. The uncomfortable rhythm of his heart and the mild shaking must be showing through as well now. It makes no sense to him. He’s only felt this terrified once before- the day they had lost Ava at the Fall Festival. And although the circumstances now are similar, he can not imagine what it is about this strange human that seems to make those insecurities rise up in ten-folds. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t have the others with him now. Maybe it’s because he really has no idea where to go from here.

The panic had set on him so fast the Leif didn’t properly notice it until it was being chased away by the strong and defendant strums of a guitar. The first twang brought him to a jerking halt at first. But as the singing notes continued, his mind returned to the harmless reality. He came back to find himself looking at the stars. 

Jingle- as if noticing Leif’s inner plight- had picked up Taylor once again.

  “It is not so easy to forget one’s friends.” He murmurs as he plays, “Do not so swiftly dismiss your own worth my snowy-haired partner. If the universe truly believes you were meant to be with these people you seek, then it will surely guide them back to you. And it sounds to me that affection has already been allowed to roost deep in your soul.”

The younger has nothing to say to that. He only closes his eyes, breathes deeply, and nods. Drawing his knees to his chest, he crosses his arms and lies down his head. All these new emotions are exhausting.

***

Ava slumps down against the frigid stone of the fountain, pulling her knees up and hiding her face in them. 

  “I can’t believe this.” The muffled moan that escapes her is full of pain, “How could I lose him? What kind of friend am I? God, he probably thinks we abandoned him.”

  “I don’t get what you’re so worried about.” Asch harrumphs, doing a single lap around the structure before taking a seat on its edge, “We haven’t encountered anything dangerous since we’ve been here on Earth. Leif can take care of himself for one night. Why can’t we just go home? It’s cold out here and I’m tired!”

Despite his childish whining, he at least has the decency to look sheepish when she turns to glare at him.

  “Well if that’s the case Asch, why don’t we just leave you out here tonight? You’re always going on about how you’re so much better than Leif anyways, so if he can make it out here on his own, then clearly you can too.” During her short reprimand, Ava stands and crosses the few steps between them. Her eyes hold a level of rage that the Daemos can never recall having seen on her before. And despite the fact that he could easily beat her in a confrontation- physical or verbal- he feels himself shrinking in shame before her petite frame.

With a satisfied huff, Ava walks several paces away. In the short time it takes her to regain her composure, her anger morphs instantly into guilt. Her posture slumps as she glances back at Asch, whose hurt expression is turned towards the concrete.

  “I’m...I’m sorry Asch.” She sighs, “I didn’t mean that.”

  “I know.” Comes the humbled response from behind her.

  “I’m just really worried about him.”

  “I know.”

The next few minutes are shared in silence. The other three Daemos choose not to express a word on the exchange just yet, only shuffling about in their own thoughts. There is a level of complete loss between them. No one wants to leave Leif behind-- but Asch isn’t the only one whose focus and determination is beginning to wane.

A particularly nippy breeze blows through, causing Ava’s already shaking body to jitter violently. In a second Pierce seems to simply materialize beside her and pull her sniffling form into a warming embrace. 

  “Perhaps Prince Asch is right. We should go for now.” He suggests quietly as she leans into him.

  “But Leif-”

  “-Will be easier to find tomorrow when it is light out.” Rhys jumps in, “We are all concerned Princess Ava, but Asch does have a point. It is unlikely that Leif has found himself in any sort of real danger, and even if he has, he is a trained warrior. None of us are suggesting we abandon our search completely, but we are all at our limits. Even if we were to find Leif tonight, at this rate we may all end up sick by the morning. Please, we will follow you no matter your choice, but think reasonably.”

There’s a gentle hint of pleading in his voice that prevents Ava from denying his claims outright. She looks between all of them in turn, searching desperately for some counterargument that never comes to rise. It doesn’t take long before she finally lets herself really take in the heaviness of her own body; the stinging left in her feet from walking for so long; the need to close her eyes and rest that is becoming harder and harder to fight away. The boys watch with patience as her mind wears itself down, and they don’t miss the surrender that wins over her stature. There’s a quiet breath, then:

  “...fine. Let’s just go home.”

Dear reader, have you ever managed to convince someone you love to do something they don’t want to, only to be hit with a horrible wave of guilt when they give in and agree to go through with it? Have you ever wished you could travel back in time just a few minutes, if only to stop yourself from being so damn persistent? If so, then maybe you can imagine how the Daemos boys feel at this point in time. The deep disappointment they observe in Ava’s eyes as she pulls herself from Pierce’s arms is enough to make their very souls wince. Three sets of eyes meet as their minds change almost unanimously, and Rhys can tell the other two are waiting for him to come up with some sort of clever escape. And being the man he is, he complies.

  “Well, ah-just a moment Princess Ava. We...we haven’t heard from Noi yet! A decision such as this should be agreed upon by everyone present, yes? And perhaps if he believes we should stay out. Noi?”

Rhys shifts, hoping to prompt Noi into insisting that they stay. But the younger Daemos- who has been noticeably absent from the entire conversation- doesn’t appear to have even noticed his name being called. In fact, he likely missed the discussion as a whole, seeing as how he stares off down one of the darkness-swallowed paths with fully focused attention. His amber eyes sparkle with wonder. In listening closely, one may have heard him humming.

Debate temporarily forgotten, Ava and the rest focus on him with quirked eyebrows and tilted heads. 

  “Uhh...Noi?” Asch beacons tentatively.

  “Do you hear it?” Noi whispers in response, to all of them and yet no one in particular.

  “Hear what?” Ava asks, frowning, “I don’t hear anything.”

Pierce steps forward and rests his chin atop her head.

  “I hear it.”

  “Me too.” Asch adds after a moment.

  “Me as well.”

  “Wait, seriously, what are you guys hearing? It’s just quiet for me.”

  “It’s music.” Rhys says, “Different from what the humans at the festival were playing. It’s quieter.”

  “Softer.” Pierce adds, and the scholar nods.

  “Earlier there were voices too.” Noi finishes. 

  “Wait, voices? But who else would be out this la-” Ava’s eyes spark up wide. Before the guys can even hit the same realization she has, she’s already gone; taking off with flying feet and a new swarm of adrenaline buzzing through her veins. “LEIF!”

  “Princess Ava!” A chorus of Daemos voices rise up through the night, and they sprint, one after the other, along her trail. Her voice bounces off the surveying trees.

  “Leif!”

***

  “Leif!” 

Two men sitting beneath a canvas on moonlit leaves jerk their heads up in unison. The elder lowers his guitar and puts on a muted, knowing smile. The younger goes tense as he strains his ears for the echoes of the voice that had rushed at them in the night. His green eyes go wide as can be, quite literally glowing with hope. He places one, prepared hand on the ground…

  “Leif!”

Springing to his feet faster than should be natural, he runs only a few paces forward. 

  “Ava?” He breathes. The sound of rushing feet pouding closer out of the darkness causes him to gasp and with the new air in his lungs he shouts out, “Ava! Ava, I’m here!”

Leif steps into the light just as his human friend barges into its threshold. He’s tossed off his already imbalanced feet as she tumbles with a football-tackle force into him. They go down together onto the rocky ground. Ava clings desperately to his shirt, as if afraid he will vanish into thin air at the impact. Before either have fully taken to their jarring landing, he finds her burying her face into his neck, sobbing almost hysterically with relief. Her sporadic hiccups seem to be contagious, and for the first time since quite possibly his toddler days, he finds himself holding onto another person like a lifeline and shedding tears that he hardly cares if others see. 

  “I’m so sorry.” Ava manages through uncontrollable gasps, “I’m so, so sorry Leif.-”

  “It wasn’t your fault, I’m-”

  “-I didn’t mean to leave you. I just turned around and you were gone and-”

  “-the one who walked off. I’m an idiot for thinking-”

  “-we looked everywhere for you! We almost went home-

  “-I got so lost without you-”

  “-I didn’t want to, but Noi heard you and I’m just-”

  “-I’m just-”

  “-So happy you’re back.”

The unorganized scrambling over each other’s apologies ends with synchronization. Still sniffling, Ava lifts her head from his shoulder and meets his gaze. There’s a pause. Then broad, toothy smiles replace quivering frowns, and their foreheads press together as they share a laugh. 

It’s around this time that the other four Daemos reach their position, only to find their newly reunited friends on the ground, trying to hold back bursts of giggles. The picture absolutely throws them. More so because of Leif’s bubbly demeanor than Ava’s, though both are certainly a sight to behold-- with tousled hair and dusty clothes, goosebump rippled skin now detailed with red marks where they had slid against the concrete. And yet the two grin and carry on in that way that can only be done after one’s stress-forced sense has left them, their cares evaporating into thin air. Earth truly must be turning them soft, because the once strict and stone-cold warriors- upon surveying the scene- give genuine smiles of their own.

It takes a little bit of time before the pair actually settle down enough to sort themselves out and stand once again. Even then, Ava makes sure to link her arm with his, swearing inwardly to never let him out of her sights again. Leif on the other hand, does his best to recollect himself, not wanting to give the others any more reason to pester him later about the blatant displays of emotion. He hides his flushed face in his sleeve, pretending to wipe a smear of dirt off his face.

  ‘It’s nice to see you again.” Rhys says with only a hint of scolding behind his words, “Though if you ever run off like that again, you’re finding your own way home.”

  “That’s fair.” Leif replies with a shrug of his shoulders. He doesn’t miss how Ava studies his reaction from the corner of her eye.

  “Did you miiiss us?” Asch drawls mockingly, stepping forward with a smirk on his face. Despite the remark, he gives Leif a friendly knock on the shoulder- a habit he’d unknowingly picked up a few weeks ago.

Leif only scoffs, but it tells them all they really need to know. He looks downwards briefly and mumbles something that only the young Prince seems able to hear. Asch blinks in recoil, then replaces his cheeky grin.

  “What was that?” He asks incentively, “I don’t think we all heard you.”

Leif growls a low growl.

  “I said-ugh-thanks for...looking for me.” Then, adding on more softly, “It’s nice to know you guys actually cared enough to find me.”

  “Well duh.” Ava’s response causes him to lift his head in her direction, “I made you a promise didn’t I?”

His mind flashes back to that day they were shopping for decorations. He’d almost convinced himself it was a dream.

  “Yeah. I guess you did.”

  “Besides-!” Suddenly, Noi appears in front of him, beaming in the friendly boyish way that used to get him mocked back on Daemos, “You’re one of us! No man left behind, right?”

  “I-”

  “Exactly.” Rhys cuts him off in affirmation, “Despite your chaotic personality and violent tendencies, you are still an important part of our group.”

  “You-”

  “Yeah.” Asch sighs, carefully selecting his next few words, “I’m not sure where we’d be without our healer honestly. And...I will admit that you’re the only one here who’s any fun to spar with.”

  “Yes.” Finally, Pierce, “It wouldn’t be the same without you.”

As Leif gapes at all of his friends in turn, something new solidifies within him. See, when Asch had saved him from execution all those years ago, the Prince had earned his life. And with that, over time, there came undying loyalty. But it was always saved for Asch alone. The others had been tolerable companions at most, at least until they got to Earth. 

Then came along Ava, who unintentionally became their focal point. She was important to him- to all of them. But he wouldn’t have died for her. Not at the start. That problem arose when she became fond of them, and they- in turn- of her. It only took a couple weeks after Leif had admitted to himself that she was actually rather preferable company, that he seemed to swear away to her the same things he had gifted Asch. His life. His loyalty. Fresh off the line went his affection as well. And although at this point, he was close to the other Daemos, he still felt separate. A product of his own mind and the upbringing that was so very different from their own.

It’s taken until now for that last link to click into place. That camaraderie which he’d been lacking now swarms through his morals and rearranges itself among those mental pieces. He feels some of his outlooks shifting. Most importantly, a single, powerful thought plants itself in his mind and takes root.

  “They want me.”

His chest swelling, the most Leif can manage is, “Thank you.”

The sound of quiet shuffling a few feet away accidentally breaks through the touching moment. The emotional bunch all turn their attention to a man standing like a startled cat beneath a nearby tree. Clearly, he had meant to scuttle away unnoticed.

  “Who is he?” Noi asks.

  “Oh that’s  Jingle.” Leif tips his head in the direction of the musical man, who has gathered his meager belongings in his arms. At the mention of his name, he winces slightly and gives a wave, “He’s been letting me sit with him. He's pretty cool for a human. The way he talks is weird though.”

Now, Ava, the Earth and city specialist of the group, immediately recognizes Leif’s apparent companion as a member of a nomadic homeless community that had just taken its annual place in one of the far back corners of the park. She’d never spoken to the man in true conversation, but she can recall exchanging a few words with him last year after she’d heard him playing the exact same guitar he now cradles to his chest. He had an impressive talent that convinced her to deliver him several dollar bills and whatever meager change she managed to hold onto after her sparse commutes to the mall or grocery store. She can vouch for the fact that he does say some fairly strange things on occasion. However…

  “Hey, you’re that chill guitar man I met last year.” She says, hoping to spark some comfort in his cautious air, “Have you really been hanging out with Leif this whole time?”

Jingle nods, shifting into a more permanent stance.

  “You didn’t have to do that. But I’m thankful that you did.” She smiles warmly, “Honestly, I was worried he might have gotten himself into trouble.”

  “It was no problem young miss.” Jingle makes the effort to reply, “I’d seen you all together early in the day, and happened to catch my fellow wanderer out on his own. He looked like he could use someone to hold him steady until his world righted itself again.”

  “Ah...yeah. I don’t doubt that he did.” Digging into her pockets, Ava pulls out five dollars- the sole remnants of cash that was pretty much all spent on food, “Here, please take this. It isn’t nearly as much as you deserve, but it’s all I have.”

The older human steps forward to accept the money from her outstretched hand with a grateful expression. Immediately after pocketing it, he spins back around in the other direction and walks away into the night. Ava silently determines to continue her tradition from before if she can manage to find him again in the coming weeks. But before any of that-

  “Come on you guys. Let’s get home.”

[prettyboyreid]

tell me about the stars

Request: For the prompt list could you do number 1 from the angst/sad section and can it be reid speaking to cat? Maybe at her execution or him visiting her in prison or something? Thanks!

Cat Adams had one last request of Dr. Reid before her execution.

Warnings: Mentions of needles, mentions of death

Word Count: 6,014

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.” 

He looked over the letter he had just received from the Mount Pleasant Women’s Correctional Facility one more time, both at the official announcement he had requested after his last meeting with her, along with a handwritten letter with the name “Spencie” written in wide, neat letters, signed at the bottom by none other than Cat Adams. 

He leaned forward on the round table as he looked it over again, glancing up at the door at the sound of a light knock.  He gave Jennifer a small, obviously forced smile, looking down at the flimsy notebook paper once again. 

“Everything okay, Spence?” she asked him in her motherly voice, knowing it was more of an impulse whenever she noticed him under duress.  His hands grasped onto the edges of the table until the bones in his knuckles pressed against the skin, burning them white.  He simply shook his head, some of his light brown curls falling down into his eyes. 

“Her execution is next Thursday.  She requested the lethal injection,” he told her, his hazel eyes scanning over her writing again to make sure he actually understood what she had asked of him.  Knowing her, however, made the entire letter feel more like a demand.  He slid the paper across the table to his friend, rubbing the heels of his hands into his eyes as he let out a groan.  The blonde woman picked up the paper, chewing on the inside of her cheek as she read what had been written to him.

“Spencie, 

I hope you haven’t missed me too much since our last date.  I know I left you probably missing me like crazy, but I’m sure you managed to control yourself without me around. 

They gave me the execution date, two weeks from today - two days before your birthday, if my math is correct.  Of course, by lethal injection.  I might as well shoot up once before I die, right? 

I managed to get my lawyer to work out a deal with the warden.  I didn’t want any special last meal - I’ll end up looking too bloated in my best dress when you bury me, and I can’t have you having that as your last image of me.  

I want one last date with the good doctor - you, of course. 

I figured you’d be at the execution anyway, but I wanted to make sure you got to say your last goodbyes to me before you lost me forever.  Now, whether you decide to bring me a Happy Meal or not is entirely up to you.  Whatever you need to set the mood.  Personally, I’d prefer something more classy for our last meeting, but it is up to the gentleman to bring it all together.  It’s just my job to look pretty. 

I can’t wait to see you again, Spencie.  I know you can’t wait to see me either.  Tell Maxine and Mommy Dearest I said hi! 

-Cat Adams xoxo”

She even went so far as to draw a little heart at the bottom of the page, with “S+C” written on the inside of it.  

“I have to go.”

“No, you don’t Spence,” she quickly assured him, folding the letter up before making her way around the table to talk to him.  She leaned herself against the edge of the table as she spoke to him, her hands folding together in her lap as she looked over at him.  He kept his focus on the execution notice in front of him.  

“She’s just trying to get into your head one last time.  It’s what she does.  If you go, she wins,” she tried to convince him.  He looked over at her after a few moments, pushing out a breath of air through his nose.  

“What if she’s planning something else?  What if she’s trying to hurt someone again and I’m the only one who has the ability to stop it?”  He asked, knowing that every time she wanted to speak to him someone was getting hurt.  He didn’t want to talk to her, he told himself, but he didn’t want anyone else to get hurt at the hands of Cat Adams.   JJ sighed out heavily as she listened to his concerns, knowing where he was coming from, but still not liking the idea of him being in the same room as her again. 

“I know it’s frustrating, but she doesn’t have a taunt about anything specific this time, besides you mom and Max, but we know that they’re both safe and will be.  I really just think she’s trying to get in your head.”

He tugged at the tightly knotted tie that clung to the collar of his shirt, suddenly feeling as though he was being suffocated by his choice.  He paced around the room as he thought  through all of the possible situations and outcomes of what she could possibly do, but it was no use.  She was the one person that was always able to stump him.  She was by no means as smart as him, but she was by far one of the most clever people he’d ever come in contact with.  It was one of the handful of things he hated about her. 

“I don’t think I can take that chance, Jennifer,” he said softly, his feet finally coming to a stop in front of the large window overlooking the bullpen.  He watched as Tara and Luke talked at his desk, and Emily and Matt having their first cup of coffee in their little kitchen.  Emily had a stack of files under her arms, probably looking into a replacement for Rossi.  Kevin Lynch was currently covering for Garcia while they searched for her replacement, but he knew that a lot of the team would rather keep him on since they at least knew him.  He looked back to his best friend, her hands still laced together in her lap as she watched him, letting him make the decision for himself.

He couldn’t risk any of them getting hurt because he was too prideful to go face a woman that they had outsmarted three times before.  

JJ already knew that. 

-

After work on Thursday, he had called in a takeout order for an Italian restaurant that was on the way to the prison.  He figured he could at least play into her fantasy if she did have something planned.  It was probably the best way to protect everyone. 

He picked up the order and drove to the prison.  It was a silent drive, but his mind raced a mile a minute.  For the past week and a half, she had been stuck under his skin like a splinter, and he couldn’t wait to put it all behind him.  For five years now, she had followed him and his team, trying to break them down and beat them.  Today was the last time they’d ever need to think about her. 

He decided on going alone, mostly to minimize any possible damage she could try to inflict, and because he didn’t know what really was going to happen.  He had a habit of losing his temper around her, and he didn’t want to give her the benefit of the doubt by letting his team see the way she could affect him. 

Once he had parked his car in one of the available spots near the entrance, he turned off the car and sitting at the wheel, his eyes fixated on the sign in front of him, reminding him where he was.   He didn’t want to be here.  It was the absolute last place he wanted to be in the entire world.  But, of course, he worried what she would do if he didn’t show up.  

As the watch that clung onto his wrist showed the time of 7:45 PM, he gripped tightly onto the steering wheel and let out a heavy breath.  He thought for a brief moment, he should just turn around and go back home.  He should forget about all of this, forget about her, and let her execution play out the way it was supposed to.  

He pushed the car door open and grabbed the bag of food, locking the doors before he made his way to the front doors of the prison.  Upon entering, he flashed one of the guards his FBI badge, letting them know why he was there silently.  The guard nodded towards another in the little booth by the entrance, and the door pushed itself open.  

He led Spencer back through a dark hall of the building, the only sounds he could hear being his heavy steps and the heartbeat in his ear.  The hall seemed to drag on for miles, as if she was trying to make him walk as far as he possibly could to see how far he would go to see him.  He checked his watch as the guard unlocked the door he presumed she was behind, watching it barely hit 8:00 before he walked in. 

“Spencie!” 

Her voice was much too cheerful for what she was about to endure in four hours.  He half expected her to be wallowing, feeling bad for herself, or to try and start a riot to put it off even more.  

He realized she was really ready to die. 

She could tell, simply by his demeanor, he was ready as well. 

“Hello, Cat,” he said, walking further into the room as the guard pulled the door shut and locked it behind him.  He set the bag of food down on the table in front of her, though she paid no mind to it.  Her focus was primarily on him.  It made his stomach wrench. 

“Italian, my favorite!” she exclaimed, her gaze still on him as she pulled the plastic apart, grabbing the two to-go boxes before setting them on the metal table, each in front of one of the rusting metal chairs. 

“Have a seat.  You look like you’ve had a long day,” she coaxed with her infamous mischievous smile, opening her box before grabbing one of the small packages of silverware the restaurant had added in. 

He sat across from her, his hands folded neatly in his lap as she began to dig into the food, keeping up an act as if she was trying to be on her best behavior.  It didn’t last long. 

“Come on!  Eat!  You couldn’t have gotten all of this food just for me,” she said with a grin, twirling a bit of spaghetti around her fork as she spoke to him.  He silently opened his food and did the same, taking a bite of his dinner while keeping his eyes on her. 

“Aren’t you going to ask me why you’re here?” she pressed.  He imagined her waiting a little longer before beginning to taunt him.  He couldn’t blame her, though - she did only have four hours left to torture him as much as she could. 

“I figured you’d tell me when you were ready,” he said simply and emotionlessly, twisting the spaghetti around his fork.  He wanted to do his best to give her as little attention as possible, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep it up for that long. 

She hummed a little bit at his answer, almost unsatisfied with it.  She almost didn’t respond to him, wanting him to actually ask her, but she knew she didn’t have that kind of time.  They both knew she didn’t. 

“I wanted you to make up for our last date.  It wasn’t exactly a girl’s dream evening, you know,” she quipped, trying to get a rise out of him, trying to get him to break his little charade and try to humor her.  She was going to be dead in three and a half hours, and then he could forget about her for the rest of his life.  He could be happy and not even remember her name.  But all she wanted was tonight. 

He held back from rolling his eyes at her answer, crossing his ankles under his seat as he continued to eat his meal quietly.  He wanted to hear everything she said, and he knew the only way was to lure it out of her with his silence.  The one thing she could hardly bear.  Of course, it worked.  A few quiet minutes passed as she ate, her eyes shifting over every inch of her date’s face, trying to profile him the way he had done to her since the first time they spoke. 

“Although, you really did surprise me with that kiss.  Did you ever kiss Maxine like that?” she questioned, grinning as she noticed his grip tightening on the plastic utensil.  It was the most she’d gotten out of him all evening. 

“Do you really care about how I am with her?  I thought tonight was all about you?” he asked, taking another bite of his food as he watched, waited for her next move.  

Talking with Cat Adams was like a game of chess - strategic, long, and a big waiting game.  It was her move, yet he was already four moves ahead, thinking of what he could do next to stay ahead of her. 

“Yes… no,” she said, rolling her eyes a bit as she slumped back in her seat.  She folded her arms across her chest, pushing the food away as she looked at him.  “At least you have the right idea.  It is all about me, so why don’t you act like it is?  You can make up for last time and then drop me off at home at the execution table.”  

He watched her body language, relaxing in the small room they had to themselves.  She noticed, leaning forward again so her elbows rested on the table.  “Come on, Spencie.  Just act like you’re on a date with her.”

He paused for a moment, doing his best to remain stoic as he watched her move.  Almost too slowly, like she was drawing each and every second out as if it would give her more time with him. 

He cleared his throat before closing his box and tossing it in the flimsy bag he had brought it in.  “How are you, Cat?”  She found the question rather humorous, considering she knew he’d probably been keeping tabs on her and her behavior since she had told him she was going to be put to death.  

“You can do better than that, Spencer,” she pressed on, her dark gaze flicking from his lips back up to his hazel eyes.  Once she realized he wasn’t moving on without her answer, she let out a soft huff.  “I’m doing great.  I’m dying in…” she grabbed his wrist and slipped his watch off, checking the time before looking back up at him.  “Three hours.  You wasted one hour trying to profile me, when you could’ve made it worth my while,”  she reminded him, wrapping the watch around her much smaller wrist. 

“What did you want me to talk about?” he asked, leaning back in his chair again, his hands laced together in his lap as he waited for her response. 

“Me, of course!” she said, throwing her hands up to bring more attention to herself, like the bright orange jumpsuit didn’t already have her sticking out like a sore thumb.  “Ask me about the baby, ask me why I wanted to have the lethal injection, talk about me.  I know you haven’t been able to get me out of that pretty little brain of yours.”

“I don’t think about you.  Quite honestly, I haven’t thought about you since our last date,” he lied to her, knowing she wouldn’t pick up on it as easily as he would be able to. 

He thought about her at least once a week.  He thought about her whenever he called his mother to talk about how she was doing.  He thought about her whenever Max kissed him last month when he got back from a case.  He thought about her when he bought a new watch, not wanting to wear something so plagued with her touch around every day.  He hated that she had become so prominent in his life, wanting nothing more to forget about her.  He pushed her to the back of his mind, but her maniacal grin always found his way back into his thoughts.  He would never say it aloud, but he couldn’t have been more relieved when he found out she was going to be executed.  He hoped it would bring him peace, finally getting some sort of justice for himself after all she had put him through. 

She gave him a playful frown.  She knew it wasn’t true, but she’d rather not waste her last hours arguing with him over what he would never admit.  She knew he would stand by that statement until midnight, as they plunged the lethal needle into her veins. 

“Why did you really want to see me, Cat?” he asked her just as she had opened his mouth.  Her lips broke into a smile, standing up from her seat before walking over to him, standing beside him and hoisting herself onto the metal table.  

“Do you really want to know the truth?”

“Did you hurt anyone this time?”

She smiled down at him, flattered he would think that of her.  She wanted to lie to him, make his blood pulse against every inch of his veins out of anger, but she knew it wouldn’t do either of them any good. 

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you.  And I knew since you’d be here anyway to watch me die, I figured you could try to make me feel better about not ever being able to see you again,” she told him.  She truthfully didn’t have some big elaborate scheme planned out.  She thought about it, of course.  She even planned out a few ideas.  But somewhere deep in her gut, she wanted to have a good memory with him.  One where all of his focus was on her, not someone else he cared far more about. 

His eyes watched her check the time again, and she let out a hum.  9:17.   She’d been counting down the minutes all day.  She probably didn’t need to check the watch.  She did it for him.  She did it to remind him how little time she had left.  She hoped it would make him feel bad for putting her here, for having her next up on the execution block.  And it almost worked. 

“How do you expect me to make you feel better?  What do you want me to do?” he asked.  His mouth was pressed into a flat line, his eyebrows raised as he waited for a response.  She pretended to think for a moment as if she hadn’t planned out how the evening would go down to the last move she would make on him before he sat in an audience for her final performance. 

“Take me out on a walk.  In the yard.  The stars will be out, right?”  she asked, raising an eyebrow at him.  He nodded at her question, looking back to the window where a guard was more than likely watching over their every move.  The door unlocked and was pushed open, and Spencer stood up, holding out a hand for her.  He would play into every last move she set up for him at this point, mentally picturing his girlfriend to make everything easier.  

She laced her hand with his quickly, following behind him like a little school girl following her crush around the playground.  He only looked ahead as the guard led him down the hall again, two big red doors awaiting them at the end.  He felt her eyes burning into him, the bright flash of her white teeth catching on the light out of the corner of his eye.  She was enjoying herself, much more than she was supposed to be. 

“Did you really never think about me?” she asked as the guard pushed the door open, a gust of cold air washing over the two of them.  He looked around for a moment, looking up at the clear sky before his gaze landed down on her.  She looked at him, silently pleading for an answer. 

“Not until you sent me your letter,” he answered coldly, walking towards the benches that were scattered around the spacious area.  He sat down in the center, and she sat beside him.  Her eyes never left him, even when he was barely a shadow before the motion sensored lights kicked in and lit the area up like Times Square. 

“Why not?” she asked, her voice carrying the same tone as a pouting child.  He realized long ago that she might as well be a child, considering she always wanted it to be about her and she would do anything to keep it on her.  Which was why he was out in the cold 53° weather, with the last person he wanted to be with on October 26th. 

“Why, Spencer?” she pressed agitatedly, just wanting an answer out of him.  She knew it would be an answer she wouldn’t want, one that she’d be better off if she never heard what he had to say.  He didn’t have to worry about her feelings anymore, since she wouldn’t remember anything he ever said to her in two and a half hours.  

“Honestly? I can’t stand the thought of you.  I can’t help but think about every bad thing you’ve done, every victim you took, every person you put through hell just to get back at a man whose face you probably wouldn’t be able to pick out in a lineup.  You hurt people close to me just to see me, so pardon me for not exactly being thrilled about the idea of you.”

And, for the first time in her shortened life, Catherine Adams didn’t know what to say.

His words stung in her chest, like he reached into her and squeezed her heart until it couldn’t beat anymore.  But, she wasn’t capable of being hurt.  His words rang in her head that he always told her - “You’re incapable of having the same emotions as me.”  She never believed him when he said that to her, but that didn’t keep them out of her head.  It was one of the many things she could never stop thinking about, along with the way he looked when he met her for the first time and the way he kissed her outside his apartment a year ago.  

She stared up at him blankly, hiding any emotions she allegedly didn’t have as she watched him.  He never looked down at her when he spoke.  He stared straight ahead at the brick wall in front of him, and she figured he was counting each and every brick so he could ignore her. 

She laid her head on his shoulder as he stayed silent, not knowing what to say to him.  Nothing she could say would change the way he felt about her, and she figured it would be a waste of breath to try and convince him otherwise.  

She sat with him for an hour in silence, a single tear falling from her eyes, but she wiped it away before he could notice.  She was a psychopath.  She couldn’t have emotions.  He’d accuse her of faking it for sympathy, and the last thing she really wanted right now was to be lectured by Dr. Spencer Reid. 

He had noticed it, his focus turning to her the moment he noticed she was no longer paying attention to him.  He noted the way her breathing would speed up every few moments, and he couldn’t help but wonder what thoughts were running through her mind.  He wanted to know if she actually was ready for her fate, if she wanted everything to finally be over for her.  He wanted to know if she felt like she had done everything she wanted to, if she had a bucket list she was or wasn’t able to complete.  

He couldn’t find the words to ever ask her. 

“Spencer?”

“What?”

“Tell me about the stars.” 

He looked down at her, not noticing he had become lost in his own thoughts.  She was looking up at the sky now, her arm looped around his as she remained as close to him as he possibly could.  Her body was pressed to his, as if she was trying to stay behind with him.  He thought it was the least he could do, before looking up the clear night sky once again. 

For about half an hour, as the air chilled around them minute by minute, he told her about the constellations that they could see.  He talked about how the Zodiacs came to be pillars of Astrology and where superstitions about each star sign came from.  He told her anything he could remember about everything above them, until the guard came up to them. 

“They need her back inside, Dr. Reid,” he informed him.  Spencer looked down at Cat again, her gaze dropping from the spheres of gas millions of miles away to the man beside her.  She took in his features for the last time, committing every freckle, every eyelash, every wispy curl to memory before she stood up.  The guard placed the handcuffs around her wrists and tightened them, leading the two back into the prison and towards the back of the building, towards the execution chamber.  

The walk was long and silent.  Cat’s gaze focused on the end of the long hallway, staring straight ahead.  Spencer’s eyes locked on the three pairs of shoes that shuffled down the quiet hall, chewing on his tongue as he thought of the last thing he would say to her.  He thought about why he cared so much about it.  He wondered if she’d care if he even said anything to her. 

They had reached the chamber in a matter of minutes, stopping outside the door as Cat looked up at him.  The guard took off her handcuffs, letting her have a few more minutes of freedom before everything was taken from her.  Spencer could tell from the look in his eyes that this night wouldn’t leave his memory for a while. 

Cat slid the watch off of her wrist, taking his hand in hers before sliding it back to its rightful place.  Both of them stared down at the time. 11:52.  She had eight minutes left.  Eight minutes left of breath, eight minutes left of life. 

Eight minutes left of him. 

She looked up at him after watching the small arms on the watch tick around the circle, and his eyes followed her.  She gave him a soft smile.  It was genuine.  It physically hurt him to see it. 

“Did you mean it?” She asked him in a quiet voice.  She didn’t sound like herself.  If he thought she was capable, he would think she was scared.  He never answered her question.  He hated to lie, but he didn’t want to make her last moments any worse than they already were.  She simply nodded, looking down at her feet before back up at him.  

“Thank you.  For today,”  she admitted to him.  He treated her with the same amount of respect as he would have given a piece of gum stuck to the bottom of his shoe, but it had been the best memory she held with him.  She leaned up on the tips of her toes and swayed closer to him, pressing her lips to his scruffed cheek before returning to her normal height.  She stared at him for another moment before the door opened, and they were faced with the warden. 

“They’re ready for you, Miss Adams.”

The guard ushered her into the room slowly, and she stole one last glance before the heavy metal door closed behind her.  He let out a heavy breath he had held since he walked into the first room, looking up into the fluorescent lights for a moment.  This was the moment he’d been waiting for for five years, one he practically prayed to come quicker.  

He made his way around to the viewing area, noticing some of the family members of her victims - wives, parents, children.  People who have waited for justice longer than he had.  People who he helped grieve.  He weaved his way around the seats and towards the front, taking a seat at the center. 

He watched as they strapped her to a chair in the center of the room just on the other side of the glass, holding her in her place.  She almost looked as if she was at peace as they inserted the needle into the vein of her right arm, her head resting against the back of the chair as her eyes searched for something in the room across from her.  Once she had found what she was looking for, she let out a sigh, her eyes locking with Spencer’s for the last time. 

“Do you have any last words?” the warden asked, making his way to the large set up that displayed the chemicals that were soon to find home inside the girl strapped to the chair.  She simply swallowed and nodded, her hand gripping on the edge of the chairs arm as she watched Spencer. 

“I’m sorry,” she managed out after a moment.  He watched as her eyes welled with tears and she unapologetically let them fall on her round cheeks.  Right before the warden pressed the button that would send her to her final fate, she blurted out one last thing. 

“I really did love you, Spencie.”

His eyes didn’t leave her once she admitted her deathbed confession, but he could tell that her fate had officially been sealed.  He watched as her face slowly relaxed, her body slumped into the chair as any life she had drained from her eyes.  The recorder announced her time of death to be 12:02 AM, October 27th.  He let out a shaky breath as the blinds lowered, separating him and the families from her.  He heard quiet sobs let out around him, the families finally having a storm cloud that had been hovering them for years clear away.  One person, a father of one of her victims, he presumed, slowly clapped.  Everyone began filtering out of his room, but he didn’t move.  He couldn’t. 

He was escorted out by the warden at 12:15.  They walked quietly down the barren halls to the front of the building, Spencer’s hands digging into his pockets.  He thanked the warden for making a few exceptions, promising that he owed him before he made his way to his car.  He unlocked it and sat in the driver’s seat, but didn’t put the key in the ignition.  

He tugged on his tie roughly until the loop was wide enough to pull it over his head, throwing it into the passenger's seat with his leather messenger bag and his gun holster.  He held onto the steering wheel tightly as he rested his head against the steering wheel, taking long, deep breaths as he ran through the events of the evening once again.  

But her last words rang in his ears like a gunshot.  

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed Emily’s number after a few minutes, hoping she would still be awake as the phone rang twice. 

“Spencer?  Is everything alright?” she asked, her tone laced with worry.  Her voice instantly helped release the tension that had built up over the past few hours, rubbing at his eyes tiredly with his large hand before leaning back in his seat.

“I think I need to take a sick day.”  He swallowed thickly again as he looked at the prison sign, his head falling  back against the headrest as he waited for her to respond.  She was silent for a minute, trying to pick up on his breathing and assess what was going through his head.  Of course she knew what this evening was, but she never got to talk to him about it before he left.  She didn’t really know what he was like going into the situation, which didn’t help her figure out how he was leaving it. 

“Of course, whatever you need,” she reassured him.  He let out a quiet sigh, nodding as he let his eyes close for a moment. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He let his eyes slowly open, looking to the center console between the two front seats, where her letter was opened and on display for him to reread quickly. 

“Her last words were that she loved me, Emily.”

It was dead silent on the other line.  He couldn’t even hear her breathing.  He pulled the phone from his ear for a moment just to make sure he hadn’t lost their connection before pressing it back to the spot it was before. 

“She was trying to get under your skin, Spencer.  You know that she was-”

“Incapable of emotions.  I know,” he cut her off, the heel of his hand digging into his eye as if it would clear everything up for him, explain why she said what she said, why she did what she did. 

“Go home.  Get some sleep.  We’ll all come visit you after work tomorrow.  Saturday, we’re all going to Rossi’s.  He wanted to host your birthday this year,” Emily told him.  He nodded again, practically forgetting what this weekend had even held for him and his friends.

“Alright.”

“Spencer?”

“Yes?”

“It’s all over.  You don’t have to worry about her anymore,” she reminded him.  Her voice of reason comforted him, wiping at his eyes with the sleeves of his button-up once he felt hot tears falling over his cheeks. 

“Thank you. Goodnight, Emily.”  He hung up the phone as soon as he pulled it away from his cheek, putting the keys in the ignition finally.  He listened to the engine roar to life before putting the car in reverse, pulling out of the parking lot before turning the car to the road, and finally heading home for the night. 

He couldn’t help but feel a little guilty.  He couldn’t be bothered to show her at least a little more kindness on her last living day.  He treated her the way he wished he could have after she took his mother, after she took Max’s family.  He didn’t even treat her as poorly as she had treated everyone else, yet he felt bad.  He felt bad because he wasn’t the same as her, he tried to tell himself.  He repeated it to himself on the long, quiet ride back to his apartment. 

I’m not like her. 

I’m not like her.

I’m not like her.

When he had pulled up to his apartment complex at 1:23 AM, parking the car in the spot he always parked in, turning off the ignition before gathering his things and heading into the towering building.  His feet trudged up the stairs as quietly as possible, not wanting to disturb any of his neighbors at the ungodly hour.  

He unlocked this door before walking inside, hanging the keys on the hook once he closed the door.  He dropped everything down on his large leather couch, his body carrying him over to his bedroom.  He was too drained to even take off his tight slacks and the button-up that hugged his chest, crawling underneath the heavy duvet and resting his head against the feather pillows.  

He slowly let his eyes close in the comfortable darkness, falling into a deep sleep he felt he earned after the day he had.  But for at least a few more moments, before his body finally had been drained of every last drop of energy left in him, one thought kept his brain turning over and over.

If he hated the thought of her so much, why couldn’t he stop thinking about her?

[merinnan]

Time Raiders

Okay, pausing the DMBJ 2 watches to watch the Time Raiders movie instead! I've been told that the entire movie is basically one big crackfic & I want to see how true that is

- Apparently the only place I can find it is YouTube 

- And we open with someone laying down cards which...seem to be making a qilin pattern. Okay. 

- And now we're at the Himalayas, and it seems to be a bunch of white soldiers shooting people? 

- Oh, this leader white guy has a classic villain look. I love the pocket watch, too 

- Wait, he's supposed to be a scientist? 

 - He obviously hasn't read the Evil Overload Handbook 

- And now this is giving me flashbacks to Xiaoge's first appearance in DMBJ1

- Ah, yes, I think this is the Xiaoge for this movie. Excellent. 

- DUDES. You have GUNS. You were using them just before. Why are you now using knives only? 

- I mean, it wouldn't do much better, because Xiaoge, but still 

- This is A Look

- Finally, one of them uses a gun, and it's as useless as I expected it would be 

- Ahahahah, omg, what he did to these two guys is hilarious 

- That is a TERRIBLE hiding place 

- Don't....don't leave him alive. JFC

- This flashback montage is super weird 

- Look, I don't have a tattoo myself, but I'm pretty sure that that's not how you get tattoos 

- And now we move to Wushanju 

- Oh, I think it's Sanshu who's been playing with those cards

- ...you have got to be kidding me 

- Really? We're really doing this? 

- I guess this is Wu Xie, then 

- What even did he just randomly put that mask on for 

- That is NOT a newborn

- Awww, kid Wu Xie 

- Yay, creepy old houses. And ofc kid Wu Xie is gonna try to get inside 

- But that is a fucking massive lock 

- Yes, of course, wrap the porch in giant fuckoff chains, but don't lock the front door. Why not? 

- ....k 

- Sure, that happened

- And bratty kid Wu Xie still pinched one of the medallions after all of that 

- Okay, yeah, if you were a kid who had to go to a funeral every month, no wonder you'd be so bored at them

- This movie is all over the place in terms of timeline 

- I think we're finally into the time period of the main story 

- And it seems this one also has Wu Xie as having been an architecture student of some kind

- Oh, yes, that's exactly what you want to find while crawling through a tunnel 

- WX: "Sanshu can never know about this. You didn't tell him, right?" 

WM: *oh shit I'm screwed face* 

- Hi Sanshu, I wonder how you got here

- I love that no matter what version it is, Wu Xie is a little shit XD 

- ...Wu Xie. Moths. Light. No. 

- Wu Xie gonna Wu Xie 

- Wu Xie, what are you doing? 

- OMG 

- Sanshu, this is all your fault for never letting him in anything like this. He doesn't know not to touch

- Wow, that wasn't subtle at all 

- That's some steampunky looking villain lair right there 

- I love how the 'passerby video' getting screened fucking everywhere is just the movie footage of that scene XD That's some high quality passerby video with interesting angles

- That's an interesting drinking spot, Xiaoge 

- I love that so far Wu Xie's instincts for everything is either 'touch it', 'wear it', or 'dismantle it' 

- ....okay 

- Yeah, I....I think this is going to be my reaction to most of the movie, tbh

- Although at least this whole magic Snake Empress and weird ancient technology/magic thing is more interesting than the bland het palace drama randomly dropped into the middle of DMBJ1 

- Oh, finally, some product placement 

- I was wondering what was taking it so long

- I love how all their desks and papers and such are inside what look like coffins, and then fold out 

- Oh look, Xiaoge's sword is inside one of the coffins. 

- And there's Xiaoge 

- Hei Ye gave Sanshu the sword decades ago?

- lol, this is like some Sword in the Stone bullshit right here 

 - I love it 

- a) Was all that really necessary 

- b) wtf even is that sword? 

- It's a really bizarre design, and surely being able to be moved like a mechanical device would weaken it?

- ...okay, that was a cute meeting, I'll give it that 

- Love how the older guys are teasing Wu Xie in the truck here. 

- Oh, Wu Xie's actually a psych student in this one

- And like, Wu Xie, how do you know Xiaoge was looking at his reflection. It's a window, he might have just been spacing out at the scenery 

- You must have been paying a lot of attention to him to notice it was the reflection he was actually looking at, hmmm? 👀

- This is a cute Wu Xie, tho 

- Yes, Wu Xie, despite your lack of modesty there I totally caught that you just called Xiaoge handsome 

- WU XIE WHAT NO DON'T DO THAT 

- Hahaha, Xiaoge had exactly the same reaction

- No, Wu Xie, it doesn't matter that you'd taken the ammo out, you should never stick the barrel of a gun in your face and look down it like that. 

- Even if you're certain it's unloaded, you just DON'T DO THAT

- Wu Xie, lacking impulse control and survival instincts without Xiaoge and Pangzi since....forever 

- (okay, lacking survival instincts was perhaps a bit too far, but still)

- I love Xiaoge's "omg what even are you" look at that 

- This is a very talkative and open to talking about himself Xiaoge 

- It's kind of weird

- lol @ Sanshu locking Wu Xie in the truck so he can't come with them 

 - I mean, really, does he actually expect this to work? 

- He knows his nephew both likes and is good at taking things apart, after all 

- lol, I knew it 

- Oh 

- Oh, that's not a good sign

- Even Coral's logo just screams 'villainous organisation' 

- These mercenaries look like video game characters from like COD or something 

- Oh hi, lady I presume is A-Ning 

- I like the haircut. Looks kinda like DMBJ 1 Xiaoge's haircut, just with the fringe over the opposite eye

- Oh, there's that gratuitous boob shot that @thosch3i​ told me about 

- I really don't see why it was necessary for A-Ning to crawl all over the truck like that when everyone else just walked past it

- There is some really nice scenery in this movie with all the mountains and cliffs and such 

- "What I'm doing isn't about right or wrong, it's about how much" I like this A-Ning. She is refreshingly direct and mercenary

- Damn, I though Xiaoge was going to notice the drone. I mean, it's so close to them! He should notice it! 

- Love Hendrix's surprised Pikachu face at recognising him, though 

- I'm honestly surprised that none of them have looked in the truck at all

- I do appreciate that this movie doesn't even attempt to pretend that they're not tomb raiders 

- And that they have no interest in preserving this place 

- Because BOOM! Let's just dynamite our way in and destroy half the wall

- Oops, no floor there 

- Hahaha, this tomb is a fucking platform game 

 - Lovely, a shootout in a tomb. Just what every good tomb raiding movie need 

 - lol, Sanshu 

- Don't you ever ever again wonder where your nephew's little shit tendencies come from

- I think Xiaoge and A-Ning are the only truly competent people on their respective teams 

- A-Ning, 'keep them alive' does not mean 'try to shoot one in the face at close range' 

- That little boot knife is kinda cute, though 

- Clever move, Pan Zi

- I love the Xiaoge/A-Ning fight. He really is the only one who could keep her distracted 

- I'm impressed at how well she held her own with him 

- IDK why he was holding back

- Also, Xiaoge participating in fight banter, no matter how minimal? Strange, but also kinda cool. 

- I'm going to be giggling about that "Not bad"/"I know" for awhile, I think 

- IDK how they had the time or the ability to stay still long enough to rig up that trap, I'm impressed

- lol, yeah, I didn't think that it would take Wu Xie long to get out of the truck 

- I take back my earlier comment about it being too harsh to say that Wu Xie lacks survival instincts without Xiaoge and Pangzi around

- Wu Xie, there is not enough light down here for you to get good shots without your flash being on 

- I know having your flash on is a BAD idea, but still 

- You cannot be getting good photos in this light

- Why is Xiaoge separated from everyone? He jumped down with them 

- I mean, it's good that he is, otherwise Wu Xie would be kinda screwed right now 

- Huh, bats, there must be an actual entrance to this tomb, not just the one that Sanshu's team made.

- A-Ning's tiny baby drones are so cute 

- The English dubbing in this is surprisingly good compared to the shows 

- Yes, good, the staring is starting 

- ...Wu Xie, you little shit 

 - He's so pleased with himself 

- Xiaoge is so confused until he explains it 

- OMG, a Xiaoge smile

- OMG A XIAOGE LAUGH

- Ah yes, multiple large tornadoes, a way to signify weird shit is going now 

- And weird spinny planets forming an...energy grid of some kind? 

- ...k 

- The mini drones apparently only pick up on people who are part of A-Ning's team, I guess

- JESUS 

- I mean, I had a strong suspicion that was gonna happen, but it still made me jump 

- Xiaoge to the rescue! 

- Damn, that sword is strong 

- This tomb definitely has a spider colony, but given it also has a bat colony that doesn't surprise me

- Those are some creepy looking mannequins 

- This set up looks like a game of Mouse Trap 

- A game of Mouse Trap with fire 

- That's actually a really cool way to light all the candles and lamps 

- I'm impressed that none of the cobwebs have caught on fire

- Oh, so NOW you use your flash, Wu Xie. When the room is all well lit and you don't actually need it 

- CREEEEEPY 

- Wu Xie and his compulsive need to touch things 

- Are all the puppets connected somehow, or are we gonna have spooky magical shit making them all come to life?

- Oh, the puppet band is like the bells, I guess 

- Huh, it seems Wu Xie's the only one who got thrown into memories in these illusions, everyone else's hallucination still has them inside the tomb 

- wtf, a lion is a weird thing to hallucinate

- Magic Zhang blood, go! 

- IDK why he needs to cut himself for each person, though, surely one cut should be enough to get all the drops of blood he needs 

- Good boy, Wu Xie, already so protective of his Xiaoge

- This really is a fucking platform game 

- Guys, this is why you study up on the raid mechanics BEFORE you enter the instance 

- Ahahahah, the music playing as Wu Xie basically dances with the sword trap

- lol, the look on Xiaoge's face as he realises Wu Xie is just...fucking dancing and taking photos 

- And that it's WORKING 

- OMFG, this is basically just a bizarre dance sequence 

- I love it 

- It's so stupid

- The puppets having fucking crossbows 

- Because ofc they do 

- Repeating crossbows 

- ...k 

- So now we have a room full of skeletons stuffed into cages 

- Why not 

- Ah, we're about to have bugs show up 

- Excellent 

- This is what I've been waiting for

- Let the hilarity begin continue 

- Dude, you can quit right now as much as you like, but it doesn't mean you're going to be able to get out of here by yourself 

- I guess this guy's gonna die now 

- For the tropes are hungry and must be fed 

- Much like the bugs

- Yep, here we go 

- Hello, shibie, I've been expecting you 

- These ones don't look as cartoonishly ridiculous as the ones in DMBJ 1, I'm sad 

- OMFG, it's eating the shovel/pick/thing 

- Okay, this is a good effort at cartoonish ridiculousness

- It's a lovely day in the tomb, and these are horrible shibie 

- Poor Wu Xie, so shocked at getting slapped

- And yeah. Yeah, that's about the only thing you can do there. 

- Only way to save the guy is to just give him a quick death so he doesn't suffer from being eaten alive

- They're lucky these shibie move so slowly. It gives them plenty of time to climb up onto those frames 

- lol, weird bendy sword again 

- Wow, good catch, Wu Xie 

- Y'know, Wu Xie, it might have been more useful to give the knife to Da Kui 

- And ofc Wu Xie falls down

- What is a DMBJ adaptation without Wu Xie getting himself into danger like this?

- That was so much wtf all at once 

- First, an unbroken flute just, like, laying there on the ground 

- Then, Wu Xie somehow thinking that playing it would save him from the bugs 

- Then that WORKED 

- He's like the fucking Pied Piper of the shibie 

- What even is this movie

- Haha, the little OK sign he flashes at Xiaoge 

- The wtf look on Xiaoge's face 

- Same, Xiaoge. Same 

- I love how everyone just. Accepts it & congratulates Wu Xie on being an awesome flute player 

- But then ig what else are you gonna do? 

- It's like, well, this may as well happen

- Sanshu's team really likes using grenades, huh? 

- Well, it does work pretty well! 

- See, Wu Xie, this is when you need to summon your bugs back

- On a completely different tangent, I cannot get over how weirdly the subs translate men you ping. I had to look up wtf shtum was. I've never come across it before. Is it something more commonly used in the US or something?

- Xiaoge, when you said you had a better way than digging under the door, I didn't think you meant just BATTERING THE FUCKING DOOR WITH THE SHOVEL 

- Oh, no, it's with your sword

- Because the best way to look after a sharp blade and keep it in good condition and keep a good edge is to...hack at rocks with it 

- Ofc 

- Why didn't I think of that? 

-  OK, ig fucking up your sword's edge did actually work, there's now a giant-ass hole in the door

- This is serious Day After Tomorrow vibes here

- Ah, yes, giant lightning strikes that cause so much force to travel through the earth that they can semi-collapse a tunnel deep underneath a mountain 

- Just your usual tomb robbing dangers 

- Physicists and meteorologists would have a fucking field day here

- Ah, I see we're at this level of the platform game 

- With the collapsing floor you need to get across without falling

- Okay, that's really kinda sweet of Wu Xie here. He thinks he's likely to die, and the most important thing to him is giving Xiaoge the pictures he took of him so that he doesn't lose all his memories 

- And aww, Xiaoge's so worried about him

- Like, I'm totally understanding why the transmigrated Wu Xie in that fic looked at these two and went "wow, we're so gay in this timeline" 

- Even the music in this scene is shipping it 

- Romantic line, and dramatic fall through the floor. Yep.

- I'm amazed he survived that fall, but it's Wu Xie, and he can't die 

- ...yes, ancient Persian architecture totally had anachronistic technology. Sure. This is definitely like that 

- omfg, they're statis chambers 

- 2000 year old stasis chambers

- Guess they're not worried about catching Sanshu and his team to get the key anymore. They've been kinda sidetracked 

- Side quests will do that 

- ...plant golems 

- "Don't shoot the thing that's in the process of murdering your friend! You might damage my research project!"

- Ew, that's not a nice death 

- Yes, good girl, A-Ning 

- That thing was just gonna kill your whole team otherwise 

- ...how did that laptop survive the blast enough for Wu Xie to be using it with no problem 

- That's one tough laptop 

- Where do I get one?

- And hey, I guess the one Chinese guy with A-Ning isn't actually one of her people, since she just, like, left him there 🤣 In the room with a plant golem 🤣 That she then threw a grenade into 🤣

 - ...omg, that's meant to be Pangzi?

- I was wondering why no Pangzi in the movie. I guess 3/4 of the way through isn't too late to properly intro him 

 - Ahahaha, Wu Xie actually thinks his bluff was super successful when there's a plant golem behind him 

- Xiaoge to the rescue again XD

- lol @ both Pangzi and Wu Xie using Xiaoge's sword as a restraint 

- ...surprise A-Ning! I wasn't expecting her to actually come back 

- And she's somehow lost all of her guys

- That's a lot of snakes, but I'm more interested in where all the water is coming from and why you can see the sun behind those shelves 

- Given how deep under a mountain they're supposed to be 

- I do love competent, pretty girls wielding huge fuckoff guns

- This door mechanism is so intricate (like the key/timer). So ofc I'm sure they're going to destroy it all 

 - Because that's how tomb raiding movies go

- Introduce a tomb with intricate and complex mechanisms far in advance of anything else known to that time period and civilisation, and then destroy them in dramatic fight and escape scenes 

- OMG the floor is lava 

 - Of course there's lava as well

- Oh, and it seems it's now all open to the sky 

- Ig the lightning which could mysteriously exert high levels of force must have smashed through the mountain and very neatly cleared it all way so that this part of the tomb and only this part of the tomb is now open air

- Wang Zanghai wishes he could go this extra with tomb building 

- And now Xiaoge being super extra to get across the destroyed section of the bridge 

- So this dude is gonna wake up just before Xiaoge gets there, isn't he? 

- And we're going to get an epic swordfight between them

- At least, it better be an epic swordfight 

- Otherwise this buildup will be very disappointing 

- Ah, yes, good, there we go 

- And all the plant golems are also waking up 

- ...along with a shitton of snakes 

- OMG the snakes have arms 

- The snakes 

- have arms

- OMG Xiaoge's sword is doing what now? 

- That's almost as ridiculous as the snakes with arms 

- It's like a sword designed by a 13 year old weeaboo boy

"it's gonna be ancient, and super strong, and nothing will ever make it blunt" 

"okay, seems like a typical magic sword so far, that's fair" 

"and you can bend it at right angles" 

"...you can what"

"and when it's bent at right angles, you can make it spin really fast and still use it like a proper sword" 

"...it what"

- ...the Snake Empress is reforming in her armour as thousands of little vines all coming together 

- k 

- Sure 

- This may as well happen 

- And her armour has boobplate, because ofc it does 

- Oh, she ain’t happy that Xiaoge just killed her plant golem boyfriend

- Her aesthetics are hilarious 

- It's part Queen of the Damned, part Little Shop of Horrors 

- Okay, snake lady, your worms might change the world but honestly I think that lightning would be more effective if you could control it

- Sanshu and co just randomly walk in through another entrance 

- Oh, and there's the rest of A-Ning's team

- I want the story behind this A-Ning and her team. The way they all call her captain, and follow her without a second word, and are so genuinely happy to see her. This isn't just a throw-together team, or a team that Hendrix put together and put her in charge of. This is her team, and there's an obvious history between them

- And snake lady is suddenly not looking as pretty as she was, for no discernible reason 

- One minute she's jumping around, the next she's all pale and falling apart. At least her face is 

- It's like she's decomposing throughout the fight

- And here come the snakes with arms 

- They move just as slowly as the shibie in here do 

- They jump pretty fast, though 

- RIP the next member of Sanshu's team 

- Yeah, machine guns aren't that effective against regular snakes, let alone magic snakes

- And the plant golems are here 

- RIP more of Sanshu's team 

- Ah, the little snakes with arms are all grown up and off to conquer the world

- ...omfg Pangzi 

- And this time it's A-Ning to the rescue 

- I love how quickly Wu Xie and Pangzi fall into the dynamic of a pair of clowns, regardless of adaptation

- RIP Harry. You went out like a badass 

- Oh wow, both teams are having some fucking epic sacrificial deaths in this fight scene 

- I like 

- And more cute pingxie, this time in flashbacks 

- lol, clearing out plant golem conversion by pure force of will

- ...and channeling blood down the grooves in the sword blade apparently...makes it sharper? 

- At least, it couldn't cut through the vines before, and now it can 

- That's not how magnetic fields work

- Ahahaha, Wu Xie pulling out his flute 

- He's gonna pull that Pied Piper shit again, isn't he? 

- Here come the shibie, come to nom on plant-snake-lady flesh! 

- She's having just as much trouble with them as everyone else does

- Because it's a lovely day in the tomb, and they are horrible shibie 

- Wow, she hits hard, she knocked Xiaoge like halfway across the chasm 

- Good thing there was a random broken pillar there

- Are they getting obliterated? 

- Ah, no, they're getting sucked up by the wind 

- Shibie-nado! 

- You know, I kinda like how bad Wu Xie's English is compared to everyone else who's spoken English so far 

- It nicely demonstrates who speaks it a lot and who doesn't

- Aw, Wu Xie, you're always so optimistic when you're baby 

- And it actually worked. I'm impressed. 

- Oh wow, A-Ning, that's some character development right there, caring about right or wrong instead of money

- Nice Pangi & A-Ning dynamic in this movie, given how they usually hate each other 

- This is definitely the final level of a platform game 

- Hahah, the two teams now 

- Awwwwwwww 😭

 - I think this is the first time I've seen Wu Xie rescue Xiaoge rather than vice versa 

- "I regret not locking you in the truck myself" 

 - Sorry, Xiaoge, I don't think you'd actually have much more luck with that than Sanshu did 

- Xiaoge, you really should have been more careful there, you almost did low Wu Xie 

- Good thing A-Ning was close by!

- ....the sword...is being used...as a boomerang 

- wtaf 

- Hahahah, the snakes' death throes, omg 

- lol what even was that ending

Overall: This movie was just one long DMBJ PingXie AU crackfic, and the author didn't know how to end it so just...didn't write an actual ending. That's the only way I can explain it. 

[summeryewberry]

I’ve just finished reading the first 10 books from M. J. Trow’s Marlowe Mystery Series. The books vary in quality, but all up I’ve absolutely enjoyed it.

It’s historical fiction, set in Elizabethan England, and revolving around the playwright Christopher Marlowe solving mysteries, working as a spy, and writing the plays he’s known for today.

The language isn’t completely period-accurate, but I assume that’s to make it more readable for a modern audience to immerse themselves in. Still, it’s solidly entertaining, with a fair amount of humour. It’s well researched, although obviously with some forgivable creative licenses taken.

The series starts off with Christopher Marlowe at 18/19, a student at Corpus Christi, Cambridge University, which was at the time a direct path to a career in the church, except that Marlowe's dream is to become a playwright in London. A modern equivalent of that would be someone who studies law or politics, gets their Master's degree, and then decides to become famous with a death metal band instead.

Marlowe starts off as a young scholar who spends most of his time doing what he likes (rather than what his teachers want from him), including getting drunk, fighting, and sneaking in and out of his college after dark. His fellow students call him “Machiavel,” and he's set up as a clever, cheeky troublemaker with a temper and impulse control issues. Luckily, trouble is a place in which he thrills at being; it excites him, and he has full confidence in his own abilities to handle anything.

But he's not without a heart, as much as some people around him might think so. He's a loyal friend and protective of the innocent. He has a sense of justice, and is willing to kill to put things right.

Marlowe is an atheist during a time when England was forcibly Protestant, at a time when churches still ruled daily life. As a result, the books mostly steer away from anything overly religious or supernatural, sticking with Marlowe's cynical, secular view.

Marlowe's homosexuality is hinted at, but there's no love interest in the first 10 books anyway (I haven’t read the 11th). Whether that's believable to you or not, you'll have to judge for yourself. The books choose to focus on the mysteries that drive them, and on the world around Marlowe, rather than on any emotional inner life.

As the series goes on, you get to know Marlowe as someone who picks up skills like a sponge, who only needs to hear something, see something, or try something once in order to remember it. He’s not always a reliable narrator, but he’s always sympathetic. While his relationships with the women around him are lovely, full of respect and empathy, partly because there's no kind of attraction there, and party because he grew up with five sisters, just as independent-minded as him.

There are plenty of historical figures who show up throughout the series, including William Shakespeare before he becomes famous. If you know your history that adds some nice little bonuses to the books, but it’s not really necessary to know who these people are before reading the books.

The books:

Book 1: Dark Entry - Set just as Marlowe is finishing his Bachelor degree at Cambridge, with a murder mystery among the students and teachers there. The book ends with Sir Francis Walsingham recruiting Marlowe for Her Majesty's Secret Service, and thus begins his career as a spy.

Book 2: Silent Court - Kit's first mission: head towards the Netherlands to protect the King. He does this by joining a caravan troupe of travellers where he learns tricks and sleight-of-hand, things that will serve him well later in his career as a spy. Very little of the book takes place in the Netherlands, and the plot does a whole lot of meandering before you figure out where it's all leading, and with a disappointing ending it's my least favourite book of the series. However...

Book 3: Witch Hammer - Builds directly on the last book, with Marlowe needing to rebuild his confidence, so that makes book 2 retroactively better. Marlowe joins a travelling theatre troupe and immediately has his first play stolen. We meet a young Will Shakespeare in Warwickshire and prove that witches are not real, but evil hearts and minds certainly are.

Book 4: Scorpion's Nest - Marlowe is sent to Catholic France to track down a fugitive. It's the last book set in an academic setting, and it's full of wonderful characters, and Marlowe always needing to stay one step ahead of the suspicious college authorities. One of my favourites.

Book 5: Crimson Rose - Marlowe has finally graduated with his Master's degree and made it to London, where his play, Tamburlaine, is starting to gain attention. London is a riot of personalities, actors, familiar faces, crime, betrayal, breaking Shakespeare out of gaol, harbouring him as a fugitive, and Marlowe then having to clear his own name on top of it all. It's loud and entertaining, and my personal favourite of the series.

Book 6: Traitor's Storm - Marlowe is sent to the Isle of Wight to find out what happened to a fellow agent, and discovers a whole series of murders. The book involves the Spanish Armada, pirates, and again, a bunch of wonderful personalities.

Book 7: Secret World - We get a glimpse of Marlowe's family, before he is once again swept up in a murder investigation that has something to do with Francis Drake, the English privateer. As Marlowe does his own investigating he meets a Jewish jeweller, gets briefly arrested for murder and inspired to write The Jew of Malta. There are seeds of Marlowe's eventual downfall by introducing Robert Poley, and ending with Marlowe having murder on the brain, but he’s never anything other than sympathetic.

Book 8: Eleventh Hour - After the death of Sir Francis Walsingham, Marlowe sets out to prove it was murder. We meet the School of Night, a group of thinkers, occultists, and early scientists, and Marlowe begins work on his most spectacular play, Doctor Faustus. It's a more sombre book than the others in the series.

Book 9: Queen's Progress - Sent ahead of the queen to scout out locations, Marlowe discovers a series of violent attacks that are a little too conveniently arranged. Along the way, he's joined by friends old and new, which leads to Henslowe's crew staging their greatest production so far: placing Queen Elizabeth herself centre stage.

Book 10: Black Death - The plague rages through London, but it's not the only killer stalking the streets. Marlowe just can't let a mystery lie, even when he hates the victim. The book introduces Bedlam, and comes full circle by Marlowe returning to Cambridge. The difference between the man he was when he left from who he is now is stark.

Book 11: The Reckoning, came out in 2020, and I haven’t read it yet, but with a title like that you know it’s going to be the last of the series. I’m not planning to read it yet either, because I’m still enjoying labouring under the delusion that if I don’t read it, it won’t end as badly as history says it will. I’m only half joking.

It’s not the greatest series ever, but I have thoroughly enjoyed the series as a whole. I’ve loved spending time with the characters and seeing their stories unfold. I almost wish there were more books in the middle there, with more historical characters and more adventures. I’m going to miss following this version of Kit Marlowe on his adventures.

Are the books meaningful or profound? Not really.

Are they historically accurate? Sometimes.

Are they entertaining? Oh, so much!