#the way he obviously Sees her pain and anger and need to protect him over seeing his old scars. angry that he or another didnt properly care

[sylustra]

Sylus saying "...don't run" to MC when they're finally being openly honest about their desire for one another and their trust and shared spaces.

[moonchildxoxx]

Are we a moment, or a lifetime Part 2

A/N: You are responsible for your own media consumption.  MDNI 18+ 

Warning: talk about terminating a pregnancy, Fetus called a baby multiple times, and semi graphic birth scene ( it’s really not that bad)

Pairing: Tsu’teyx human ! Female! Reader

Word count3,673k

Synopsis: it continues right from part one

[ Request are open]

Master List

Rules

[Previous] // [Next]

"We need to keep this quiet" He murmurs, his voice quiet. The last thing she needed was everyone hounding her, demanding answers about this. Mo'at nods, agreeing that this should be kept quiet before turning and going to a small side room, searching for something. He keeps his arms firmly around her , his face buried in her hair as he murmurs reassurances and tries to soothe his own racing mind "It'll be alright"

He repeated, as if he was trying to convince himself more than her. Mo'at re-emerged with a small, woven basket. It was full of various things, but he couldn't see what exactly through the woven cloth She set it down beside him, gesturing for him to look inside. He gently shifted her out his lap for a moment so he could lean forwards, looking inside the basket. His long fingers pull back the lid, his brow furrowed as he looks at the contents.  The basket was filled with various things. Some herbs, some berries, and a few other bits and pieces he doesn't notice Mo'at motions to them, pointing at specific things "Make sure she takes these everyday. Some of the herbs will help with the nausea, the berries will help replenish the energy. I will try to find more" Tsu'tey just nods silently, still trying to process that he was going to be a father. 

The next few months had gone by slowly and quietly. Tsu'tey had kept her pregnancy a secret, much to the growing frustration of the scientists as she avoided them more. He was almost overly protective of her , following her everywhere and trying to keep her from anything even slightly dangerous or tiring. Mo'at had been of great help, bringing over herbs and berries to help with her sickness and any other issue she had had. But as she grew, it became more and more obvious to the others that something was wrong

She was more tired, her stomach was obviously bigger, and everyone was starting to notice. They tried to bring her to the lab for tests and scans, but Tsu'tey stood in their way, refusing for them to do anything more. He knew they would poke and prod and study her, not even considering her as a person anymore. 

He would bring her to Mo'at every time she had even a slight pain or issue, worried that anything unusual was a bad sign. Mo'at assured him that it would be okay, but every time she looked at (Y/N) distended stomach, you could see the worry in her eyes. Tsu'tey was always at her side, his touch gentle and warm. He would soothe  her nausea with a few berries and a cool rag, and soothe his own worries by pressing his giant hands against her stomach and talking quietly to you both.

The other's, particularly the scientists, were becoming more and more frustrated at her and Tsu'tey's secrecy, getting more demanding and more desperate to get (Y/N) in the lab. Tsu'tey's temper was wearing thin and he eventually snapped at Max when the scientist tried to force her in for a scan. It had been a long day, and she was feeling particularly exhausted from being on 

her  feet all day. Tsu'tey had taken her to the lab to work on a project with Max and Norm, but she was starting to feel faint. Max had tried to gently persuade her into the medical room, saying it was just a quick check to make sure everything was going okay and that it would only take a couple minutes. Tsu'tey had lost his temper and shoved Max aside, forcing him to get away from her. "No" He snaps, his voice low and quiet. His golden eyes almost glow with anger as he glares at Max. She'd never seen him this angry. He turns to look at (Y/N), the anger leaving him immediately as he looks at her face. Her face was pale and her hands were shaking from the effort of staying upright. Tsu'tey instantly steps in to support her, gathering her in his arms and gently holding (Y/N) against his chest. Max was frustrated , his jaw

clenching. "I don't see why we can't just do a quick scan. We don't have to do anything invasive, it's just to check everything's going well" Norm  intervened 

"Max-" But Max cuts him off, his eyes locked on Tsu'tey

"it's literally our job to collect data" "And what are you going to do when you get that data and if you don’t like it , huh?" Tsu'tey snaps back, his whole body tense.

"What if you get some readings you don't like, what then, huh?" He keeps one arm firmly wrapped around her , holding her to his chest while he glares at Max, almost shaking with anger "If the fetus is unhealthy or showing signs of abnormality, then it may need to be terminated-" Max keeps going but Tsu'tey doesn't even give him the chance to finish the sentence before his fist clenches at his side, his knuckles turning white even as he holds her with his other arm "There will be no 'terminating'" Tsu'tey practically growls that last word, his body practically shaking with anger "This baby is not a data point. It's not an experiment. It's our child" Max's eyes narrow, but he holds his hands up "okay, fine, it's your child. But don't you think a scan could be helpful? I mean we can find out the gender, we can see how it's developing-" (Y/N) cut him off “ Tsu'tey I want to go home”  In an instant, all of Tsu'tey focus switches to her.

 He instantly notices how pale she was and how tired she looked, and gently scoops her up in his arms, holding her against his chest. He shoots another glare at Max and Norm as he starts carrying her out towards their home. He practically ignores her protests, gently shushing her and murmuring reassurances as he carries her back to their home. As soon as they got home, he carefully set (Y/N) down on the soft, woven pile of blankets that served as their bed. He carefully lowers himself down behind her, pressing up to her back and gently wrapping an arm around her waist. He nuzzles his face into her neck and breathes out a long, slow breath, finally letting his guard down for a moment

He presses his hand gently to her stomach, his long fingers splayed across her skin. He can feel the swell of her belly, the bump of the baby inside. He kept his eyes closed as he breathed her in, nuzzling his face against her. She nuzzled back ,she was exhausted

He tightened his grip around her waist as he pulled her  even closer against his chest. He can tell she was tired, her whole body shaking with exhaustion. His lips pressed against the back of her shoulder as he tried to soothe her. She fell asleep on him. He feels (Y/N) relax against him as she sleeps , her breathing slowly evening out. He keeps his arms around you, holding her tight against him and burying his face into her hair

He stayed awake, watching her face as she  slept. His mind still races, but his mind is calmer than it was earlier. Now she is here, safe and sound and asleep, he can finally allow himself to properly relax. She stayed asleep. He stayed awake for a while longer, simply watching her sleep. He gently pulls the covers up around her, making sure she is properly tucked up and comfortable. After a while, he slowly feels himself start to doze off too.

 She slept till early morning. The sun raised slowly, filtering through the woven shelter and casting it in a soft, warm glow. Tsu'tey slowly wakens a few hours later, opening his eyes to see (Y/N) ace softly lit by the morning sunlight He slowly sits up, propping himself up on one elbow as he looks down at her. She was starting to stir, her  eyes fluttering open. He watches her for a moment, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he watches her  wake "Good morning" He murmurs gently, reaching out to brush his fingers gently over her cheek He lets his hand cup her face, his calloused fingertips gently tracing over her skin, as if he was trying to commit every little part of her  to his memory She nuzzled him. He feels her nuzzle against him, and his smile widens slightly. He leans down, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. He lets his arms wrap around her, pulling her close against his chest as if he can't get close enough to her. Her  skin is warm against his, and he nuzzles against her  hair and the top of her head, breathing in the scent of her. He feels his own anxiety from the other night ebb away, replaced by a warm, fuzzy feeling in his chest. She gently grunted " I want this baby out " she muttered. He couldn't help but let out a small huff of a laugh at her comment, his chest rumbling with a quiet chuckle. "I know, I know" he says, his hand gently rubbing her  stomach. She lay back yawning again. He follows her down, lying back with her as he continues rubbing her belly. He can feel the baby moving under her skin, shifting around inside her .He leans in, gently pressing his lips to her stomach He murmurs against her stomach "your mommy is getting impatient with you" He lets his lips linger, pressing soft kisses against her  skin. She laughed softly " hey you would too if you carrying a watermelon He smiled up at her, his lips still against her stomach  "You're right, I would" He glances down at your belly again "it's your fault, you know" he jokingly murmurs to the baby "You've given your mother a difficult time" He gently starts massaging her  stomach, his hand large enough to span almost all of it at once His fingers gently rub in soft circles, as if he's trying to soothe the baby as well as her. He can feel the taut skin of her  stomach under his fingers, still stretched tight around the bump (Y/N) started to doze off again. He notices her starting to fall asleep again, and he can't help but smile a little. He knows she’s tired, and knows she needs the extra rest. He nuzzles against her  stomach again, then leans in to press a kiss to her  cheek "get some sleep" He gently pulls the covers up around her, making sure she is warm and comfortable. He shifts to lie behind her, his large, muscular body pressed up against hers  as he wraps one arm around her waist and pulls her close  

The next month or so passes in a similar fashion, Tsu'tey being overbearing and overprotective.

Every time she not feeling well, he's at her  side, and he's constantly trying to keep her from getting tired or exerting herself  As her due date approaches, he gets increasingly apprehensive and nervous, spending almost every minute at her side and fussing over every small issue she had until she hit a breaking point. “Why don't you go for a short huh?" (Y/N) suggested He glances at her, raising an eyebrow. His first response is to protest and say he doesn't want to leave her, but he can tell she was feeling smothered and fed up with how overprotective he's been, and he sighs "You really want me to?"  “ I think it'd do you some good besides I'm not leaving our marui" He lets out a small huff of a sigh, knowing she was probably right, and reluctantly nods "Alright, alright. I'll go" he says, already missing her before he has to leave. She nuzzles him. He nuzzles her back, letting his forehead rest against hers for a moment "I'll see you later" he says softly, before reluctantly pulling away from her and grabbing his bow. She grabbed her tablet and read for a little while before taking a nap. It takes a few hours before Tsu'tey comes back to the marui. He's carrying a couple of fish in one hand, He sees her  lying there with the tablet and a part of him relaxes, relieved to know she hasn't left the marui like he was afraid she would, She was curled up asleep in the nest. He sets the fish down, before gently laying down beside her. He tries not to disturb her, as he knows how tired she had been. But he can't help gently nuzzling his face into her hair, breathing in her familiar scent

He lets out a soft sigh as he wraps his arm around her waist, pulling her close against his chest. He can feel the bump of her stomach against his , the baby growing more restless and running out of space in her belly. He gently shifts himself to where he's lying behind her, spooning against her back and resting his hand on her stomach. He lets his fingers rub in gentle circles against her  skin, hoping to soothe not just the baby but her as well

As her due date approaches, Tsu'tey becomes more and more stressed and restless. He spends every single minute of the day by her side, refusing to leave her unattended at all. He has nightmares nearly every night while he's supposed to be asleep, about the baby being born dead, or dying soon after, while she is bleeding out and fading right before his eyes. He'll occasionally wake up in a cold sweat, but tries to stay quiet to avoid waking her up. He stays as quiet as possible as he pulls her closer to him, his arms wrapping around her  and holding her tight against his chest. He buries his face into her hair, trying to calm his hammering heart and steady his breathing

(Y/N) hummed in her sleep nuzzling him. He buries his face in the crook of her neck, his nose pressed against her skin. He lets himself breathe in her scent, taking in just how alive she was. He can feel her  heart beating against his, the steady thump of it calming and reassuring him. He lets his hand rest on her stomach, feeling the bump of the baby. They've gotten so big, it's easy for him to feel every kick and squirm they give. He can't keep the smallest smile off his face as he feels them stirring inside her, but the anxiety and stress over the impending birth is still weighing down on him

He tries to shake himself out of the dark thoughts, instead focusing on the baby. He rubs her belly in small circles, silently praying to Eywa that it goes well, that everyone will be okay. He tries to keep his voice soft and quiet, but he can't stop the quiet words from leaving his lips as he murmurs against her skin, "please let it be okay, please let them both be okay..."

He keeps his nose against her skin, breathing in ragged breaths as he tries to will himself to sleep.

But the dark dreams keep coming back, the images of the baby crying out weakly as she slowly fade away, the blood staining his hands and clothes, the image burned into his mind. His grip around her tightens as he shakes those images away, nuzzling against the nape of her neck. He wills himself to think of happier things, of the baby being born healthy, of the first time he will get to hold them, of the joy that would bring.

It had been a long, hard few months . (Y/N)  had been monitored by Mo'at carefully, and Tsu'tey was more overprotective than usual, watching for any signs of distress.

The days ticked by, slowly approaching the moment. She was laying back on a sleep mat Tsu'tey by her side keeping her up. Mo'at knelt between her legs, guiding her through the process. She was gripping Tsu'teys hand tight. He was kneeling beside her , leaning his head on her as she squeezed the life out of his hand. Mo'at occasionally spoke, encouraging her to push and reassuring  her that she was doing well "Good, good, push. You're doing so well" Mo'at's voice was as encouraging as she could be, trying to get her to do what was needed. She could already make out the head. Tsu'tey pressed his forehead against hers , his fingers intertwined with hers . "You're doing so well, you're perfect" He breathed, his breath hot against her skin as he tried to distract her from the pain "Nearly there, you're nearly there. Push again" Mo'at knew it would be hard, but she also knew (Y/N) was strong. "That's it, you're almost there" (Y/N) cried out, the pain intense and burning. She couldn't do it anymore, she felt like she was going to pass out. "I can't, I can't-"

"Yes you can, you're doing so well" Tsu'tey assured her, his free hand moving to the side of her face, trying to soothe her , she let out a low, guttural sound, gripping Tsu'tey hand even tighter. The pain was nearly blinding now, and she was exhausted but she was almost there. So incredibly close.  "One more push for me, come on child. You're doing so well" The encouraging words from Mo'at spurred her on, gritting her  teeth as she used all her strength to push one last time. The push seemed to last forever, but the moment it was done, a soft wail filled the air. The sound of a baby crying.

Mo'at smiled, gently picking up the baby and holding them in her hands. A moment later, Tsu'tey raised his head from (Y/N)  shoulder and looked at the baby

"Is, is it-" he couldn't form a coherent sentence. His chest was heaving and he was shaking from the adrenaline.

“It's a girl"  Mo’at's words were said softly, her voice quieter than usual as she spoke. A girl, a beautiful, perfect little girl. The crying baby was placed on (Y/N) chest, still covered in birth fluids and the cord looped around her.  You could see the pure disbelief and love on Tsu’teys face. He was in shock "Congratulations"

Mo'at's normally sharp voice was quiet, a small smile on her face. She reached out and patted (Y/N)  thigh gently "You did well, child”. 

Tsu’tey leant over her , his lips brushing against her forehead, his breath hot against her skin. "You did so well" He murmured, his voice cracking slightly as he looked down at the little squirming baby in her arms.

The baby seemed to calm as she held her, her crying ceasing and being replaced with little sounds like tiny chirrups. He reached out and stroked a finger down the baby's cheek, his touch as gentle as he could. He couldn't believe how small she was, this tiny little baby, this perfect little thing .Tsu'tey raised his head again to look at (Y/N). She was exhausted, and covered in sweat and blood, but she never looked more beautiful to him . “She’s perfect” He murmured, his voice a mix of awe and tiredness. He carefully sat down on the ground next to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her closer. The baby was still in her hold, and she could feel the protective way Tsu’tey was wrapped around her (Y/N) nuzzled her baby. The baby squeaked under her affection, her tiny limbs wiggling again as she let out a soft sort of purring noise. Tsu'tey watched the two of you with a soft expression, his fingers tracing small circles on the baby's tummy

"What are you going to name her?" Mo'at's sharp voiced interrupted the moment, her eyes on her and Tsu'tey as she watched (Y/N) with the tiny baby

“Kamari " Tsu'tey's eyes flicked away from the baby and over to her, a quizzical look on his face "Kamari?" He repeated, tilting his head a little as he tested the name  she nodded, a satisfied smile on her face. It was the first thing that popped into her mind when she looked at her. Tsu'tey thought about it for a moment before giving a small nod "Kamari.." He said again, his eyes falling back down to the baby in his arms. "You like that, little one?" Kamari gave a small noise as if she was agreeing with her father. The baby wrapped one of her tiny hands around Tsu’teys finger, gripping it tightly. Her hand was so tiny, yet her grip was remarkably strong.  Tsu’tey chuckled breathlessly as he gently tugged his finger, watching her not let go with an adoring look in his eyes “Oh you're totally screwed " spoke (Y/N) Tsu'tey gave her a side eye, his mouth tilting up in a small smirk "What do you mean by that?" He asked, his thumb tracing soft circles over the back of Kamari's tiny hand "She's got you wrapped around her little finger". "She's not the only one, you know" He murmurs, his eyes flicking up to look towards her, that smirk on his lips. Then his gaze falls back to the baby in his arms, his expression immediately softening Kamari let out what sounded like a little squeak, her tiny fingers grasping onto her father's finger with her surprising strength. Mo'at chuckled quietly, crossing her arms as she watched Tsu'tey interact with the baby

"You're in trouble already, Olo’eyktan “ Tsu'tey huffed in response to Mo'at's comment but didn't disagree. He knew exactly what she meant, He was completely enraptured, this little girl was the perfect combination of you both. He knew he was falling in love already . The baby let out a tiny gurgling sound, wiggling its tiny little arms as it snuggled against (Y/N) chest.

© Moonchildxoxx 2023 | all rights reserved. do not republish, repost, steal, modify, translate or claim my work as your own.

[meowsgirldrawing]

Soft is a Need too (Spite x Rook Drabble I could NOT get out of my head)

Obviously Lucanis x Rook too, but I like to explore Spite and his constant need for Rook just as much as Lucanis does too.

Not proofread so apologies for any mistakes, I am but a wee human in this wee world.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Soft, subtle hands play into ‘his’ hair, twirling a strand around a finger so gently before letting it fall to the rest before carding through once more.

Spite couldn’t tell what need rang better- the need to close ‘his’ eyes or keep them on Rook as they read their novel peacefully from their other hand. 

He only gets so much time with them, and yes- while that time has for sure grown since Lucanis finally did something worthwhile and said how he felt towards Rook after their long-awaited return, he still itches for the times Lucanis finally lets himself rest and him take over. 

He’s been what Rook calls ‘Good’ and laid with them instead of trying to leave. But why would he leave now? Before, he was just bored. Now, he’s not bored anymore! Rook is! With him! Him!! Spite!

And with the way they giggle after a particular hair caress has him sighing in content and nuzzling into their stomach, he can tell they like it too. Not think like Lucanis does, Knows!

“You’re not falling asleep either, are you?” They tease lightly.

Spite glares up at them with fiery purple hues marking their face, “No. Can’t now.”

Their brow raises and a light smirk has him smirking fully back. “Oh?” Their tone has him tightening his arms around them better. Better for them not to leave. “And why’s that, hm?”

Spite nudges into the palm cupping his face, lightly nipping at it that has Rook booping his nose in response for his assault. 

It takes him another moment to realize the look set on him is one of expectation, not just playfulness with tender touches added in. 

It’s simple. “Can’t loose. Our Rook. Again.”

Rook’s hand holding his face pauses as does the one clasped with a book freezes, turning more stiff. 

They blink, then an odd look comes about their face. Spite doesn’t like it. 

They look worried and runs a more concerned felt hand through his hair. He practically purrs like those creatures he sees them constantly petting in Lucanis’s home town. 

“Spite…you know I’m not going anywhere again, right?”

“Yes. Because we kill. Whoever changes that.” His eyes flash momentarily, and he brings a hand to their face instead. Soft skin meets his hand followed by a sweet flutter of eyelashes as he cups around the side of their face. Gentle as Lucanis told him. Like he would ever hurt Rook. They are theirs! Theirs to protect! To fight with, to have fun with!

And finally feel soft with after so long of pain and hurt. 

All Spite knew since getting forced to share a body with the most stubborn human alive was pain. 

From being ripped from the fade and into the already tormented body itself, to the harsh experiments and trial and errors the mages did on him and Lucanis-just to see how ‘they’ reacted as host and demon, to sitting to the side as Lucanis curled into a sopping broken ball for months every night, frozen cold and having to listen to the irritating drip drip drip of the cell door. 

Spite felt the hunger, the aches, the burning anger and nagging sadness, and above all- the undeniable fear. 

Lucanis inadvertently made Spite feel it all, thus leading to his own want to leave, to go back to this ‘home’ Lucanis kept thinking about night and day. 

It all stopped the day Rook and her little team of misfits came into their life. With Rook leading the charge, they managed to get out and end up entirely into a new contract in return for helping them escape. 

It all stopped when Rook smiled and offered their assistance with anything the two needed. 

It all stopped when Lucanis got a flutter in his chest that grew and grew until the very sight of Rook had him blushing and Spite grinning. 

That was until that bastard mage, Solas as they called him, decided the brightest idea was to take their Rook. 

No more. 

Spite eyes them as they mark their book for later reading time and he starts sitting up further with glee when their arms stretch out to him. 

He’s a bit fast in globing them up in a hug only to have them laying across their large couch. He buries his face into their neck, smirking and chuckling as hands run up and down his back. It tickles. 

They settle into his favorite position at that point. Him laying on their chest, face nosing into their collarbone, and them holding them like how his wings hold them when keeping them safe. Away from the painful world. Away from mages and Solas. 

“Mine.” He presses a kiss into the bone underneath him. "Mine." They murmur it back just as easily. He smiles. 

He feels..safe..soft here. Lucanis thought it first but Spite couldn’t help but agree more the first time their hands touched them. 

The same hands that card his hair from his face to press light, fast kisses on his forehead. His nose. And he tilts up to meet their lips. They pinch him and they yelp as he does it back with a chuckle. Others would be scared of such a noise, but their hands are still on him, still giving him soft touches and loving caresses. 

He won’t sleep, he doesn’t need it nor wants it right now. He has his and Lucanis’s Rook and that's all he needs. 

That and their soft touch as always.

[l0viia]

𝙰𝙺𝙰𝚉𝙰 𝙷𝙴𝙰𝙳𝙲𝙰𝙽𝙾𝙽𝚂 𝙽𝚂𝙵𝚆! 𝟷𝟾+!

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊

┊ ┊⋆ ┊ .

┊ ┊ ⋆˚         

✧. ┊         

⋆ ★

∴.·:*¨ ¨*:·. ☙.·:*¨ ¨*:·.♡ .·:*¨ ¨*:·. ❧.·:*¨ ¨*:·.∴

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

❥┈┈┈•˼͝ʹ͜ ˓̇͜∙͡∘❀ 𝓛𝓞𝓥𝓘𝓘𝓐 ❀⋞∙͜͡∘ʹ͜˻͝•┈┈┈❥

❥┈┈┈•˼͝ʹ͜ ˓̇͜∙͡∘❀ 𝓜𝓘𝓝𝓞𝓡𝓢 𝓓𝓝𝓘 ❀⋞∙͜͡∘ʹ͜˻͝•┈┈┈❥

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

∴.·:*¨ ¨*:·. ☙.·:*¨ ¨*:·.♡ .·:*¨ ¨*:·. ❧.·:*¨ ¨*:·.∴

𝐀𝐤𝐚𝐳𝐚 ⇨ He met you while he was investigating a lead on the spider lilies. He realized you were a Hashira and a 𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧. So he did what he felt was right and fled. Obviously you chased after him relentlessly which annoyed him to no end.

𝐀𝐤𝐚𝐳𝐚 ⇨ He dodged your attacks and only defended himself when it was absolutely needed, but no matter how much he ran you just 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧’𝐭 leave him alone so he turned around and caught you in his arms forcing you to stop.

𝐀𝐤𝐚𝐳𝐚 ⇨ Who watched you flail uncomfortably in the air so he pinned you on the floor to try and make his grip less painful on you. This only caused you to get flustered which confused him until he realized his knee was in between your legs pressing against you while he restricted your arms beside your head.

𝐀𝐤𝐚𝐳𝐚 ⇨ Looking down at your flustered expression he let indecent thoughts run through his head as he contemplated if what he wanted to do to you would be considered harming a woman.

𝐀𝐤𝐚𝐳𝐚 ⇨ “ It would only hurt her for a second then it would feel good”. He would make excuses to justify what he wanted to do before actually deciding to give into his desires.

𝐀𝐤𝐚𝐳𝐚 ⇨ He would immediately rip the fabric protecting your chest off of your body causing you to struggle against him while the cold night air nipped at your exposed skin.

𝐀𝐤𝐚𝐳𝐚 ⇨ He would watch as your nipples would harden at the sudden loss of warmth before he dips his head down and swiped his tongue along the bud.

𝐀𝐤𝐚𝐳𝐚 ⇨ Hearing you suck in a sharp breath trying to cover your sounds would annoy him as he retracts from your chest. Looking down at your flustered face he would hum lightly before dragging his tongue along the center of your neck teasingly.

𝐀𝐤𝐚𝐳𝐚 ⇨ “ I forgot that you mortal women always like to be kissed a little before being handled isn’t that right 𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒐𝒓?” He would watch as your face gets red in embarrassment and anger, but as soon as you open your mouth to yell at the demon he would connect his lips to yours sensually.

𝐀𝐤𝐚𝐳𝐚 ⇨ He would allow you to try and gain control over the situation because he thinks it’s amusing. Letting you almost win before rubbing his knee against your clothed pussy causing you to gasp into his mouth.

𝐀𝐤𝐚𝐳𝐚 ⇨ He would shove his tongue into your mouth while grinding you down against his knee. Moaning around his tongue you would give up the fight between you and the demon letting him have his way.

𝐀𝐤𝐚𝐳𝐚 ⇨ He would notice immediately that you’ve given into him and release you from the deep kiss. Moving his head down he would take each of your nipples into his mouth lightly just to watch your sensitive body react against him.

𝐀𝐤𝐚𝐳𝐚 ⇨ He would get impatient the moment he smells your arousal and release you from the pinned state he had you in, but before you could react to the new found freedom he would hike your skirt up and yank down your panties before spreading your legs and opening you up for him to see.

𝐀𝐤𝐚𝐳𝐚 ⇨ He would watch you try and sit up to cover yourself before pulling you towards him by your legs and attaching his mouth to your pussy.

𝐀𝐤𝐚𝐳𝐚 ⇨ He would love the way your hands would shoot into his hair in attempt to pull him away from your leaking core but still grinding your hips up to deepen the pressure he was applying to your clit.

𝐀𝐤𝐚𝐳𝐚 ⇨ Who would get pussy drunk off the taste of you as he drug his tongue in and out of you greedily before pulling your sensitive clit into his mouth and sucking on it while swirling his tongue over the little sensitive nerve.

𝐀𝐤𝐚𝐳𝐚 ⇨ He would groan into your pussy as you cry out and release in his mouth while pulling his face closer to you desperately.

𝐀𝐤𝐚𝐳𝐚 ⇨ Who would realize you we’re overstimulated and that you were trying to pull away from him. He would immediately lock his hands around your thighs and bury himself deeper in your cunt growling every time you tried to jerk away from him.

𝐀𝐤𝐚𝐳𝐚 ⇨ Who couldn’t find the strength to pull his face away from your pussy regardless of the painfully hard boner he had been dealing with sense the moment his tongue met your heat.

𝐀𝐤𝐚𝐳𝐚 ⇨ Who would drag orgasm after orgasm out of you just from his mouth leaving you shaking and crying from the overstimulation and humiliation.

𝐀𝐤𝐚𝐳𝐚 ⇨ Who finally released you after realizing the sun had started to come up. Looking down at your semi naked form he would glance between the sun and your body.

𝐀𝐤𝐚𝐳𝐚 ⇨ He would quickly pull his vest off and slide it over you buttoning it quickly. Sliding your underwear off he would stuff them in his pocket so he could find you again next nightfall.

𝐀𝐤𝐚𝐳𝐚 ⇨ He would pull your skirt back down to cover your flesh before leaving quick kisses over your thighs before reaching up and connecting your lips quickly.

𝐀𝐤𝐚𝐳𝐚 ⇨ “ There’s another human heading up the trail. Seek refuge from them until I come back for you next nightfall little warrior”. He would give you these light commands as you babbled any words you could before he took off as fast as he could to seek shelter from the sun.

𝐀𝐤𝐚𝐳𝐚 ⇨ With his luck he would almost immediately find an abandoned cottage the moment the sun almost hit him. Kicking the door shut he would slide down the wall before pulling your underwear from his pocket.

𝐀𝐤𝐚𝐳𝐚 ⇨ He would hold them over his nose inhaling deeply before reaching in his pants, quickly freeing his cock before wrapping his hand around himself immediately.

𝐀𝐤𝐚𝐳𝐚 ⇨ He would moan and tilt his head back before thrusting himself into his hand repeatedly while thinking of you 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒐𝒓.

𝑨𝒌𝒂𝒛𝒂 ⇨ Who would spend the next 12 hours of daylight imagining you in every position he could think of and practically begging his god to let nightfall arrive already so he can go devour you the only way he would allow himself too.

∴.·:*¨ ¨*:·. ☙.·:*¨ ¨*:·.♡ .·:*¨ ¨*:·. ❧.·:*¨ ¨*:·.∴

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

∴.·:*¨ ¨*:·. ☙.·:*¨ ¨*:·.♡ .·:*¨ ¨*:·. ❧.·:*¨ ¨*:·.∴

[i-cant-sing]

I don’t see any Castlevania asks and that makes me sad as HELL

How would (Y/N) react to Lisa’s burning? How would Dracula’s war court react to her? And Hector and Isaac?

I'm gonna go down the platonic route and make reader Lisa and Dracula's daughter, biological or kidnapped/adopted.

Obviously, any normal human would not react well to anyone being burned at the stake- ALIVE. And maybe when the villagers caught Lisa, they caught you as well and thought you were a witch too. They burned your mother first and just when they had started to burn you, Dracula came and swooped you up and away, along with his now dead wife's remains and while you passed out due to inhaling all the smoke, sustaining some minor burn injuries and well- EXHAUSTION AND TRAUMA, your father returned to slay the entire village and later wreak havoc on all of humanity. Really, a justified reaction from a family man.

Anyways, he returns home with you in his arms and then nurses you back to health all while killing everyone outside. Now, he may still be soft to you but you are absolutely forbidden from leaving the castle. Like you cant even go outside even if Dracula accompanies you. No, he's lost his wife and if youre their bio kid who is more human than vampire unlike your older brother Alucard, then Dracula is way more protective of you. After all, he did see you almost die and really, you remind him far too much of his wife, of her humanity and her kind heart to help others that eventually got her killed.

Initially, right after Lisa's death, Dracula didn't even allow you to even leave your room, too paranoid about some unknown force killing you and him not being able to save you in time. Eventually though, with other vampires and monsters(under his control obv) in the castle, he let you out of your room, but still not out of the castle, and thats when you found out that he had thrown out Alucard and (sort of disowned him??) because your brother was not in favour of Dracula either killing the world or locking you up.

Now, like I said before, Dracula is still soft for you but with Lisa's death he's become a little... emotionally crippled. He has too much pain and hatred inside him, and he's doing his very best that you dont end up on the receiving end of these very negative and very dangerous emotions. However, he sometimes... loses control. When you keep on persisting about how all of this is wrong, about how he shouldnt kill ALL humans, how he shouldnt lock you up or break what remains of this family, he lets his anger out on you. Only a little. He'd yell at you, tell you that you're far too stupid an naive and stubborn to understand what he's doing or why, ask if you're going to side with those murderers that you so desperately want to save over your own family? Are you that blind? He'd drag you back to your room, lock you in there because he wont have you questioning him like he's the bad guy here.

But soon after that, he'd be found sitting in front of one of Lisa's portraits, probably one where she's cradling baby you and he'd start talking to her, trying to explain himself, how he did not mean to blow up at you but you just wouldn't listen to him. The one sided conversation would always end with Dracula feeling guilty and he returns to your room with a heavy heart that just sinks more when he sees you asleep, tear streaks now drying on your cheeks. Sitting on your bed, he'd pet your hair, mumble something about how he loves you and cant afford to risk losing you, smiling softly when you shuffle closer to him.

Since Dracula knows Hector is loyal and sincere to him, he will allow you to have him as your friend. After all, you would need some company in the castle and vampire dad on murder spree is not exactly someone who is ideal for friendship at the moment. So, he permits and even encourages Hector to socialise with you and comfort you. And Hector has a bleeding heart too, so you're in luck because he will happily listen to you express your emotions and provide you with free therapy (he makes dead, one missing limb/eye puppies alive for you🥺) He just wanna protect u too, and while he doesnt agree with you being locked up in the castle, its better than the alternative. Also, has and will fight Isaac 1000% if he talks shit about you because youre human.

As for the court, they know that you are now the only thing dear to Dracula, and while one wouldnt say that you have the vampire king wrapped around your finger, he comes pretty close to it. But its no use really because they cant exactly use you to make Dracula listen to them... or can they?

Considering that you're pretty against the whole "Vampire uprising-kill all humans" plan, they cant persuade you to enslave or kill humans. What they can do is gain Dracula's favour by being... kind to you? Okay take Carmilla for example (because she's the only one I can remember from the court. Her and the brash, red haired vamp?) Now she's smart, she's manipulative and she knows exactly how to use this opportunity. She starts to befriend you by first agreeing that she understands why you're against your father's actions but also tells you that you must understand his decisions from his side. "Your mother was a kind woman, a brilliant doctor and from what I've heard, your father loved her very much. And if you've ever been in love, then you would understand why he's doing all of this." And of course Dracula overhears this because come on, nothing happens in his castle without his knowledge. So yes, he shows slight favouritism towards Carmilla among the court and he may allow her to hang around you a bit (only after Carmilla convinced him that you needed a female friend in your life, and its always better to be in her company than any of those perverted men of his court) but even then, Dracula doesn't completely trust her around you and so he wont allow you two be in contact often.

Dracula would also be way more conscious of your feelings with time, because he will realise eventually that he was far too caught up in his own pain and plan for vengeance that he forgot to see how you were coping with the loss of your mother. If any of the vampires are heard saying something even remotely mean to you, if he even hears Isaac even breathing in disgust at the sight of you because you were part human, they will be swiftly dealt with (girl, he murders them all).

You're his baby, his sweet human kid, his little princess and he wont have anyone or anything taking you away from him. (LET HIM PULL YOU IN HIS LAP AND WRAP HIS CLOAK AROUND YOU AND DRIFT OFF IN HIS ARMS BECAUSE YOU'RE THE ONLY WARMTH LEFT FOR HIS COLD DEAD HEART OMGGGG)

Ah i miss Castlevania asks too, platonic yandere castlevania asks especially. everyone send in ur asks.

(omg what about yandere brother Trevor Belmont?)

[bagelbun333]

Godot is morally grey and that’s okay! | The most human Ace Attorney Deuteragonist

So I had like, several topics in mind relating to Godot that I wanted to ramble about, so I decided to just put them all together in one extremely long post. So, buckle up, it’s gonna be a doozy. :3c

TW and CW: References to murder, suicide, sexism, and mental health issues

Also major spoiler warning for the Phoenix Wright Trilogy, especially aa3!

Godot is a character who gets a lot of backlash for being morally grey, controversial, and for holding a grudge against Phoenix for seemingly “no reason”. He even gets labelled as a “raging misogynist.” I would like to go over in depth of his character and put into perspective just how much goes on in his mind that makes him do the things he does in the story. It may not excuse his actions, but it does help to have a better understanding. He’s one of those characters that if you view from a single-minded perspective, you’re not gonna get the best judgement of his character.

Misguided Hatred on Phoenix + Mental Health Issues

We’ll start off with his backstory. His real name is Diego Armando, a promising young lawyer with a beautiful girlfriend and has a loving (and smug) personality. He was so moved by Mia Fey, with her being so kind, caring and faithful. She wholeheartedly believed in the good of people, especially her clients. Diego loved that about her, and he wanted to make sure that she sees it for herself. He supported her through and through, and he stood by her side when her first trial ended in tragedy.

He eventually got poisoned by Dahlia Hawthorne, putting him into a coma for five years. He reawakens, learns of Mia’s death, and changes his identity to Godot. Ever since then, he builds up a deep loathing towards Phoenix Wright.

His hatred for Phoenix can be compared to Franziska von Karma’s hatred; but unlike her, there is a much more deeper connection between them. This is a deep, messy, traumatic and tragic story that tangled two unfortunate people together. There is a proper reason to be angry at someone here; a reason that isn’t even clear at a glance.

His hatred towards Phoenix stems from the hatred towards himself. This is called displacement; a defense mechanism that involves transferring negative feelings from one thing to another. In this case, Godot projects his self-loathing onto Phoenix to avoid blaming himself. Which obviously isn’t a good thing, or even a healthy thing. It can easily cause problems with relationships. But the important thing to consider is why did he have to cope like that in the first place? Well, because he had no other way. He didn’t just jump to that method immediately, he would’ve gone through other ways first, but those methods didn’t work out for him. It’s a process of trial and error until he had no choice but to use risky tactics. He has nobody to confide in, he nearly died in one of the most brutal ways imaginable, he woke up blind and suffers from chronic pain and depression, he needs to make frequent visits to the hospital, the world has moved on without him, and ultimately his girlfriend was murdered while he was in a coma. Then he finds out that the one person who was by her side seemingly failed to protect her and got to inherit her law office as a result, despite being an “incompetent” rookie.

It’s a lot for one person to take in, and enough to make anyone break down. Imagine how pissed he would be once he found out some amateur took over his girlfriend’s law office (the same guy who let your own murderer run free for eight months, which is the murderer who put you in a coma, preventing you from doing anything about your girlfriend’s demise) and that amateur renamed the law office after himself just after she got murdered. I would also direct my grief and anger towards this bozo too. He gets to have all this glory from doing nothing? I can understand why Godot would want him to have some consequences at the very least.

And this is a law office that Godot never had the pleasure of working in or even seeing for himself. And all of that was just given to Phoenix after only two trials under his belt. Not only did Godot have everything taken away from him; everything that Mia also had was given to someone who (in his perspective) didn’t deserve it. Phoenix is living in Mia’s success over Godot’s monumental loss. Mia basically died for Phoenix’s benefit. Meanwhile Godot lost everything he lived for, and Phoenix unknowingly took that away from him too.

Of course, Phoenix did not have any control over that. However, in Godot’s perspective, it would simply look like Phoenix took Mia’s place without a second thought.

The only things Godot knew about Phoenix was:

- He stood in Mia’s rightful place, having the nerve to take over when she died.

- He helped to conceal Dahlia’s necklace which allowed her to live freely without consequences yet again, resulting in Diego’s attempted murder to be unsolved for eight months.

Godot shows clear signs of the stages of grief, bargaining being a big one. He definitely asked a lot of “what ifs” to himself, like “What if I could’ve saved her?” “What if he saved her?” “What if I didn’t drink that stupid poison?” “Would I have woken up sooner if he didn’t hide the bottle of poison?” Considering he has nobody to confide in, he only has himself to ask these questions to. He only had himself to figure out what he must do next; and because of that he quickly spiralled into a huge depression, and tunnel-visioned onto Phoenix until he believed that he was responsible for Mia’s demise. This is the result of no therapy and no friends or family. Even less than that, he lost his eyesight, hair colour and good health too. His promising life was ripped away from him and some bozo got it all for free! How’s one person supposed to comprehend so much trauma effectively in his position? How was he supposed to think rationally after what he went through?

He had all of these problems suddenly thrown onto him and he had no time to mentally process any of them. Not only did he have to learn to adapt to being blind; living with the fact that he’s never gonna be the same again, and recover from a five year coma with nobody waiting for him — he didn’t even have the time to grieve for Mia.

He went through in his mind that he was responsible for “letting Mia die” before blaming Phoenix as a coping mechanism. At first, he would’ve went through suicidal thoughts because he couldn’t live with the fact that he “let Mia die.” Then in his mind, it clicked for him. The fastest way to atone for “letting Mia die” was to protect her little sister, Maya. If he couldn’t protect Mia, then he should at least protect Maya to make up for it. This became one of the two reasons for him to live. He really didn’t want to feel like a failure to Mia so he became obsessed with needing to protect whoever was important to her. Because that’s what she would want, right? He’s worthy enough for Mia, right? Worthy enough to be forgiven even though he left her to die, right? Godot doesn’t know. He doesn’t know how much she had changed over those five years, and he can only remember her as the little rookie he had so much hope for. For all he knows, Mia could’ve forgotten all about him, and that thought terrified him. But at the same time, he probably thought it was for the best. What he doesn’t know, is that Mia never forgot about him, and she wants him to be saved. And no, that does not mean she wants him to join her in Heaven so soon after waking up. It means she wants him to live the life that she doesn’t have anymore. If he knew this, he would do it for her.

His other reason for living was Phoenix. He needed to see the one person who Mia had taught, and test if he was truly capable and worthy of taking her place. He had to see for himself just what kind of person Phoenix was. After all, this is the guy who supposedly took everything away from him; does he really deserve it? He also really needed an emotional punching bag to avoid hurting himself, and Phoenix was, unfortunately, the perfect candidate. He’s a lawyer, he “failed” to protect Mia, he was “dumb” enough to be manipulated by Dahlia. It’ll be just like hating himself except he’s directing it to somebody else. It’s the only way he can process his anger and grief. This is what displacement is.

Speaking of displacement, it isn’t an excuseable behaviour by any means, but it does put into perspective on how he keeps his emotions together. Despite placing the blame and hatred onto Phoenix, he’s really comparing himself to Phoenix. But what he doesn’t realise is that Mia’s death is neither his or Phoenix’s fault. He’s so stuck on the fact that Mia’s death could’ve been prevented that he became blind to the real facts of the matter. The stage of bargaining really does have a strong chokehold on him.

Godot latched onto that belief so tightly that he ended up believing his own lie. Thus, he gaslit himself into believing Phoenix was actually responsible for Mia’s death, which in turn led to his seething anger and hatred towards Phoenix. Godot was terrified of being the one responsible for letting Mia die, so he had no choice but to believe in his own lie. If Phoenix can’t be blamed, then Godot is the only other one responsible; in his perspective anyway.

A neat little symbolism that I’ve noticed for Godot is the whole “hiding behind a mask” aspect. He’s a man of mystery, both in origin and appearance. Not only does he have the benefit of hiding behind a mask, but he often speaks in a quiet and calm manner to hide his vulnerability.

Every so often his calm yet cryptic demeanour cracks, and his true vulnerable nature seeps through. We see this for the first time when Mia gets channeled towards the end of 3-2. He instantly recognises her, and he completely freezes and goes silent. After a couple minutes of silence on his end, the judge asks if he’s alright, resulting in Godot snapping back into reality. Then he decides to let Phoenix do the final cross-examination, even though it’s not at all beneficial to his case. The only reason he did that was because Mia was there, and he could never say no to her, especially not when he feels like he’s betrayed her; he feels that he owes her everything, even his own life. She’s essentially his biggest weakness.

Then there’s the moment where he realised that he missed Maya’s name written in blood in 3-5. He realised that, once again, he failed Mia. Therefore he panics. He doesn’t panic when being accused of murder mind you, because he knows he deserves the consequences. But the fact that he panics over Maya being accused really tells me that he puts someone, who he doesn’t actually know that well, above himself. If he can’t save Maya, then he’s worthless. That’s what’s running through his mind at that moment.

He’s been panicking ever since Misty Fey died, even worse when Maya suddenly disappeared. So much more heavy burdens are weighing him down, and he knows that he set something into motion that he can’t undo. Does that sound familiar? That’s because he said that exact same thing to Phoenix. Projection strikes again! This is when his coping mechanism is at its absolute worst, and understandably so. His self-hatred was racing to him like an avalanche, therefore his anger and hatred comes to Phoenix the exact same way. He suddenly brings up Mia’s death for seemingly no reason, but in Godot’s perspective, that old incident has been fresh on his mind the entire time. To him it seemed like everyone moved on too quickly, and it hurt him so much in ways that he can’t even describe. How dare they move on while he’s still suffering?

Godot has been feeling shame ever since he woke up from his coma and found out about Mia’s murder. It wasn’t until he saw Mia’s spirit alongside Phoenix near the end of 3-5 where the shame and hatred disappeared. It was then replaced with regret. He realises that he was wrong and that he did terrible things to Phoenix, and he believes his actions were inexcusable. He feels immense guilt about the way he treated Phoenix, and he thinks he should’ve directed his anger towards himself all along, or as he puts it, the one who he couldn’t truly forgive was himself. He even questions if he really wanted to save Maya at all — he can’t trust his own intentions anymore. This sudden realisation makes him blind to his own good intentions that he was previously dependent on throughout the whole story. He then heaps all of the blame onto himself, (similar to Mia’s behaviour at the end of 3-4) but Phoenix and Maya believe that his good intentions were genuine, and they try to make him realise this, which results in him finally crying for the first time.

This is the moment where he finally releases his true emotions after keeping them bottled up for so long. Tired from keeping his shields up, all he can do is cry. This is the equivalent of Maya releasing Dahlia’s demonic spirit out of her body — his feelings are that intense. The demonic spirit in this case is his “Godot” persona. Diego has finally been saved from the “evil spirit” that has been cursing him this entire time. Remember how exhausted Maya was after channelling Dahlia? Well, imagine how exhausted Diego must be after being “possessed” by Godot the past year. Phoenix and Mia didn’t just exorcise one evil spirit that day, and Mia certainly seems to know this when she told Phoenix that he saved Diego. Maybe Phoenix will realise this later.

Godot wanted to be caught, and he wanted Phoenix to be the one to catch him. He didn’t want neither Phoenix nor Maya to overlook the mistakes he made but rather bring out the truth, no matter how painful it was. He believed that they’re strong enough to handle the truth, which shows that he really does respect them.

He’s not a bad person. He’s morally grey. He’s only human. He’s the most human character there is. Irrational, imperfect, emotional and selfless. He’s not entirely hateful, he’s scared. He’s grieving. He’s not rational, he’s traumatised. He distances himself from others and paints himself in a bad light. He doesn’t take pride in himself, he doesn’t care about what others think of him. He just wants to find reasons to live and be at peace with Mia’s death.

The “Worst” Prosecutor?

A huge misconception about Godot that I’ve come to notice is that he is another prosecutor who cares about maintaining a perfect win record — which is just… blatantly incorrect. Godot did joke about being a “legendary prosecutor who never lost a case” at the beginning, but that’s all it is: a joke. He was mocking the other prosecutors because he is very aware that a lot of them care about that more than anything; he wasn’t boasting about himself at all, just taking a stab at previous prosecutors because he has had enough with that reoccurring issue. He was the one who wanted to break that chain. He has no doubt dealt with these kinds of prosecutors when he was a defence attorney, so why would he want to become the thing that he disapproved of?

Plus Godot has a history of making fun of people, so him mocking other prosecutors for being so pretentious and full of themselves is not hard to believe.

More prosecutors need to take a page out of Godot’s book and learn how to take an L. Godot knows how to accept defeat, and that’s something all good prosecutors should do. Good prosecutors aren’t the ones with perfect win records, it’s actually the ones who fight for the truth and are able to accept the losses if it comes down to that.

The fact that the fandom declares Godot as the worst prosecutor because he never won a case is just so absurd to me, because the second game teaches you that a perfect win record doesn’t mean shit. It’s clear from the outset that Godot doesn’t care about a perfect win record, and would much rather find the truth on top of testing Phoenix’s capabilities. Godot doesn’t even let his own witnesses lie for his benefit, because he only wants to win legitimately. If that’s not a good prosecutor, I don’t know what is. (Also I believe Mia herself said “I don’t plan on winning through paper-thin lies” so there’s another neat parallel between them 🥰)

Godot’s motive for being a prosecutor was so that he could challenge Phoenix in the courtroom, as well as protecting Maya. He didn’t necessarily care about winning, he just wanted to test if Phoenix was truly capable of being Mia’s successor; and he wanted to believe that for himself. Phoenix was the only one who could pass on Mia’s legacy, and he really didn’t want that to go to waste. So who better than himself (the one who taught Mia everything she knew) should test Phoenix’s ability to be Mia’s protégé? Godot was making sure that Mia’s (and his own) teachings didn’t go to waste.

Then there’s still the matter of his hatred towards Phoenix. Despite gaslighting himself into hating him, he still believed in Phoenix deep down. He also wanted to be proven wrong. Proven wrong that Mia’s death was Phoenix’s fault, and to be proven wrong that Phoenix would never be half the lawyer Mia was. He secretly wanted to be saved by Phoenix.

In the end, because of Phoenix’s actions, Godot finally came to terms with himself and accepted that Phoenix wasn’t to blame at all. Godot made Phoenix prove that he is in fact worthy of being Mia’s successor, and he proved that neither one of them should be blamed for Mia’s death. Phoenix saved Godot, and that wouldn’t have happened if Godot didn’t challenge Phoenix so much to begin with. In my opinion, Godot has been Phoenix’s most challenging opponent as a lawyer. He tested his capabilities, his beliefs, his moral compass, everything — because that’s how much Phoenix really meant to him.

So Godot’s “perfect win record”? That never mattered to him ever. All he cared about was Mia’s legacy living on. He never felt damaged because of a trial loss, he felt damaged because he was slowly accepting that Phoenix didn’t fail Mia. He doesn’t care that he never won a single case as a prosecutor, and he shouldn’t be made fun of because of that either. Because perfect win records mean absolutely nothing in general. This perfectionism issue all started because of Manfred von Karma, and it should die with him as well. Let’s not have it rubbing off on the prosecutors who have nothing to do with him.

Godot is the first prosecutor who gives no fucks about winning for the sake of perfection. He genuinely wants to find the truth; he believed in that as a defence attorney and he still believes that as a prosecutor.

Godot is Phoenix’s ultimate parallel. Godot is what Phoenix could have been if he were pushed to the extremes. Whatever Phoenix throws at him, Godot throws it right back. He copies Phoenix’s methods in order to truly test his capabilities as a lawyer. He wanted to give him a taste of his own medicine. He wanted to find out how well Phoenix can actually do when being opposed by himself, so Godot takes on that role. He prosecutes in a manner of a defence attorney, and this happens to be a challenge that Phoenix struggles with the most. Phoenix had prosecutors stumped many times in the past and now he’s finally the one who gets to witness what it’s like to be on the receiving end of that kind of trickery.

It makes sense, given that the person who taught Phoenix to use these kinds of tactics (such as bluffing) was Mia Fey. Of course, Mia learned this from none other than Diego himself. Godot testing Phoenix’s abilities this way makes perfect sense. Then it all comes full circle when Phoenix surpasses Godot’s expectations. The student has surpassed the master.

Godot is the perfect antithesis of Phoenix. They both have the same driving force but with one major difference; one had support while the other had nothing. If they swapped places, they would still fit each other’s roles. If Phoenix didn’t have the support he had, he would end up just like Godot.

Godot insulting and bullying Phoenix is also kind of a parallel to Phoenix’s snarky remarks to the people around him. The difference is that Godot reserves the most bitter snarky remarks towards Phoenix specifically. All of that is tied to his misguided hatred towards him due to Mia’s murder, but the way he insults Phoenix is so similar to how Phoenix insults other people. It’s another example of Godot giving Phoenix a taste of his own medicine.

Misogyny Allegations

Oh boy, here we go.

Godot’s whole purpose of character development is that he’s learning how to properly grieve and accept the loss of his loved one and learning how to move on. He goes through a painful lesson of humility by realising how important Phoenix’s role is and seeing how competent he grew to be. How does him being misogynistic correlate to any of that? It doesn’t. Anything misogynistic interprated from him is by the fault of the writers. You can see that with almost all the characters in this series; they have at least one moment where they say something blatantly sexist. Even characters like Gumshoe, Maya and Mia have had these moments.

Godot doesn’t even have that many moments where he says something sexist, and when he does it always comes off as out of character for him; along with the others. Just because he often talks about being manly, doesn’t mean he’s being sexist. He loves being a man, and he’s comfortable with that identity. That’s how many men feel, especially trans men.

In the anime, where the same story is being told, there were some interesting changes in the writing. All the out-of-pocket sexist writing from the games have been completely removed, further proving my point that the sexism in most characters are not intentional, and it’s the (game’s) writers themselves being misogynistic.

A character can’t be sexist purely because they’ve been written by sexist people. If you think Godot is sexist because of this, then you also have to say that all the other characters are as well, because they are guilty of the exact same thing. You can’t let favouritism pick and choose who you ignore the writing for. There’s evidence of other characters saying even more sexist stuff, but they get a free pass because it’s just them being “out of character.” But when this happens to Godot once or twice, he gets labelled as a “misogynistic asshole” and it’s deemed his only character trait. Why should Godot have to carry all the blame for this? Especially when he’s one of the few dark-skinned, disabled characters in the series? The Ace Attorney fandom is not beating the racism allegations.

Also, do you really think Mia would fall in love with a man like that? Someone who’s only character trait is misogyny? She wouldn’t. The reason she does fall in love with him is because he has many admirable qualities, and he believed in her when she needed support.

Now, there are characters who are actually written to be sexist, like Redd White, Matt Engarde and Dahlia Hawthorne. But guess what? They don’t even get nearly the same amount of backlash for the sexism allegations, even though they are fully intended to be that way.

Redd White attributes women as just accessories to his image (April May) and using them as scapegoats whenever he’s in trouble. He’s also described as a “lady killer.”

Matt Engarde is known as a “player with women.” He only views women as his toys until he gets bored of them and throws them away. One of them, as we know of, commits suicide over this. He also has that fragile “male pride.”

Dahlia Hawthorne attributes femininity as something that's weak and fragile who always needs to be saved, while the “horrible” men around her take the blame for the "pure, innocent” woman. Victimizing herself at its finest.

These are brilliant examples of writing sexism into characters. All three of these examples are characters who are antagonistic, selfish, and deserve no sympathy. Characters can be well-written and sexist if that’s supposed to be the writer’s intent. But with Godot, he’s not written with that intent in mind; anything sexist that comes from him always comes out of left field and feels very out of his character. Lots of other characters in this series have this exact same problem; such as Phoenix, Gumshoe, Mia and Maya and so on. Godot clearly is in the same boat as the other characters I’ve just listed off, but as I’ve mentioned before, he doesn’t get that free pass. The fact that he’s the one dark-skinned character not getting the free pass despite him being in the same boat is very suspicious. It’s as if the dark-skinned characters all must have that sexism trait. Why should that be if you’re not racist, hm?

Just a small footnote: I wanted to include Morgan Fey as one of the sexist characters but thinking about it some more I realise that a lot of it is just an interpretation, not something in canon text. It’s easy to interpret her as sexist due to her being reliant on her old fashioned values and her being suspicious of men entering the village, but that’s not something entirely concrete. It’s still an interesting thing to think about tho!

Going back to the main point, I'd like to add that I think a lot of people refuse to look deeper into Godot’s character and rather simplify him down to the sexist faults; not just because of racism, but fandom bias towards the characters as well.

For example, they’ve known Edgeworth longer and try to excuse his behavior as a fault of Manfred von Karma indirectly teaching him these values. And because of the fandom’s bias towards Edgeworth and against Godot, despite both being flawed characters with trauma written by sexist writers, one gets excused and defended while the other recieves the brunt of the hate for it.

Edgeworth had many moments where he’s sexist, even after his Bratworth phase. Him calling Mia a bimbo is far from the only occurrence of his sexism. He always views women to be inferior to men, especially when it comes to physical strength. It’s especially apparent in the first trilogy, such as him defending Iris’ innocence by claiming she’s too weak to use a sword as a weapon purely because she’s a woman, and him claiming that Valerie Hawthorne turned her back on Terry Fawles because he was a big scary man with a knife — even though she had police training and had a gun on her own person. He even specified that if the criminal was a “quaggy” woman like Mia, Valerie would’ve acted differently.

Here’s screenshots of the second example if you don’t believe me:

Edgeworth is a flawed character and I believe that sexism is intentionally written to be one of his many flaws. I can definitely see that it’s something he learned from Manfred, but that should not excuse his behaviour. You can enjoy a flawed character such as Edgeworth without needing to defend him and his flaws; because when you do that, you’re going to sound like you approve of the horrible things he’s done. Just because he changes overtime should not mean that all the bad things he did in the past should be forgotten about. A big part of his character development should be him getting humbled and taking responsibility for his actions and mistakes, not running away from it and making excuses.

I’ve seen Edgeworth fans defend his sexism by saying things such as “He’s only like that because of von Karma, it’s not his fault!” “He has autism and he is gay, therefore he can do whatever he wants”, “Well that’s Bratworth for ya!”, “He got better!”, “Franziska wouldn’t let him!” (I actually saw all those responses on twitter, big surprise 💀)

First of all, he’s a grown-ass adult, he knows exactly what he’s doing and he’s definitely old enough to be held accountable for his actions. Secondly, being autistic and gay doesn’t give him an excuse to be a shitty person; you can be autistic and gay and still have a horrible attitude like a lot of other people. Thirdly, saying “that’s Bratworth for you!” has major “boys will be boys” vibes when said boy is tormenting women, which is a disgusting thing to say.

And then there’s Franziska. Not gonna sugarcoat it, she’s intentionally written to be sexist too. A well-written sexist but still sexist nonetheless. Out of her own insecurity she lashes out and puffs herself up, trying to one-up people; women included. She seems to be extremely determined to prove herself to be better than the "men of the court.” Though for Franz, it could be that she became sexist towards men because she entered that workforce from the pressure of her father, and needed to keep up her image.

Now that I’m writing this, I’ve realised Franziska is kind of the antithesis of Dahlia, who is another intentionally well-written sexist character. Dahlia wants to appear weak and fragile and innocent. Franz wants to appear capable, confident, and strong; someone who is able to uphold her own image to get out of her brother's shadow. Yet they both act the same when confronted about this fact.

Because at the end of 2-4, Franz runs away wanting revenge on Phoenix and Edgeworth, and she cries at the fact that she isn’t ready to be left behind again. At the end of 3-5, Dahlia is forced away by the power of exorcism, and her last moments of grasping on the physical world was her crying about how she isn't ready to leave, and wanting a forever vendetta against Mia Fey specifically.

They both act aggressively when being confronted and their facade breaks, they just want to appear differently. They both also inflicted a heavy source of trauma onto Maya and Phoenix.

Edgeworth and Franziska are good characters, but they are far from good people. You can enjoy their flaws without resorting to defending them. It’s perfectly fine to enjoy them! But trying to put down Godot for having similar flaws only to uplift the other group of characters is just wrong. Demonizing people who enjoy Godot for his flaws is even worse. Let fans enjoy things ffs— This is why I think a lot of Edgeworth and Franziska fans have huge biases when explaining why they hate Godot so much.

We can appreciate the characters for what they are; like and dislike them for our personal reasons, and it’s best not to engage with people wanting to start arguments. For example, I really don’t like Franz but I can understand her character and see how she must've felt being raised by a severely strict perfectionist. Being held up to so many expectations and standards at such a young age can make you a complicated person, to say the least.

But that’s besides the point. Going back to the biased hatred towards Godot, the fandom tends to ignore how much trust Godot places in women. He trusted Mia, Maya, Misty and Iris — to name a few. This doesn’t mean he sees all women as being sweet and innocent all the time, but he sees women being just as competent as men; whether it’s them being good or evil. With Mia he saw her as a strong, bold and intelligent woman. He believed in her capabilities as a lawyer and as a person. Not once did he think of taking Mia’s place in 3-4 because he had doubts about her, in fact he encouraged her to take the lead the entire time.

With Dahlia he saw her as a threat; he feared her. He wanted to catch her because he knew how dangerous she was. He took her seriously because he knows how competent she was. He almost got killed by her, resulting in his severe trauma later on. And the reason he ended up acting so recklessly in 3-5 was because he knew firsthand how terrifying she is.

And just because he wants to protect Mia and Maya, doesn’t mean he views them as weak things that need to be saved. Adding along to this, if the ghost of someone who tried to kill me was going after somebody else I care about, and I had little time to prepare, yeah, I’d be desperately trying to find all the help I can get too!

He thinks he’s failed Mia before and he’s terrified of failing again. He wants to protect Maya because he knows that’s exactly what Mia would’ve wanted. It doesn't make you weak or fragile to accept help when you need it. The rhetoric that you need to do everything yourself and burden yourself with those responsibilities, all the while dealing with your own trauma and self-inflicted guilt, yeah— no thanks. I'd rather get the help than succumb to my own bad thoughts.

Fandom assuming Godot is sexist for wanting to protect Maya and Mia because of his own motivations is, in of itself, sexist. You see a manly character wanting to protect a woman in need and you immediately think “ew that’s sexist!” Why is that sexist? It’s been canonically stated that he’s been doing this through grief and trauma, but the fandom views it as him being sexist just because he puts on an image of a “manly man.” The fandom accuses him of being sexist but the points they are making to prove their argument are in itself sexist. The fandom is becoming the very thing they swore to destroy.

Manly men can (and should!) be able to accept help too! That’s Godot’s whole arc with Phoenix! He struggled with figuring out who he should be asking for help from. And good lord does he need it. But when he tries to get help, he’s accused of being a misogynist again! He also gets a lot of hate because he didn’t ask for Phoenix’s help from the very beginning. Bro’s been through so much trauma, you can’t expect him to be rational about everything. It’s so frustrating seeing that he just can’t seem to win no matter what he does. It’s all just biased bashing on a character at this point.

This argument is giving people who comments "Men used to go to war" under posts about a man making a smoothie or something because it’s just a smidge of not being the "standard" for masculine men. A manly man wanting to help those who are important to him is not a toxic masculine trait. It’s human compassion. If it’s fine for women to feel that then it should be fine for men too.

Plus, the fandom ignores the blatantly feminine things Godot does too. He’s a true manly man because he can accept both of the masculine and feminine aspects of himself. He flirts with men all the time, he admits when he blushes over receiving compliments, he loves strong and soft women, and he has a lot of silly moments too.

He flirts with Luke Atmey, Ron Delite, Jean Armstrong, and even Phoenix! He says things like “cut it out, you’re making me blush.” He even had a moment where he giggles to himself because Jean Armstrong was flirting with him. He’s able to do a spot-on voice impression of Desiree Delite. He’s brave enough to let himself cry, and he even hurts himself physically to show that he’s hurt emotionally. He does this because he’s so adapted to fooling others with his smile.

You can tell which characters are intentionally written to be sexist just from the way they behave. Antagonists and villains often use sexism to their benefit, using it as a weapon or as a way to protect themselves. They also have a deep-rooted source of where that sexism came from, which continuously grows as they age. Meanwhile characters who don’t have that intention always falls flat and goes absolutely nowhere with it.

I really think what sets apart Edgeworth's sexism from Godot's supposed sexism really comes down to the people they're talking about, and the context behind the scenes. Godot was targeting Franziska's position of power and her immaturity while she was acting all high and mighty; he did this to make her feel intimidated by him which ultimately made her shut up. She doesn’t whip people who are willing to stand up for themselves, and Godot figured that out. Godot’s sexism only came about because he was copying Franziska’s tactics in order to nerf her power. He could tell that she feels stronger when making men feel inferior, so he took a page out of her book and threw it right back at her. He tends to mimic his opponents’ tactics no matter who it is, it just so happens in this instance, his opponent uses sexism as a weapon, and so he reflected it back at her as a result. (Ofc this is still not excuseable on Godot’s part, nor am I defending this, but it’s an instance where his sexism makes sense, without it being one of his character traits. I also find it so interesting that he decided to handle her behaviour this way.)

This can also be attributed to the fact that the writers just felt like writing in a sexist line because that was a product of its time. This is one of the few examples that could be either source, because both sources are spontaneous.

With Edgeworth, he constantly talked down to Mia simply because she’s a woman. Even during her murder case, he spoke ill of her even though they only met once. His source of sexism is woven into his character because he was influenced by a corrupt man. He can’t have both excuses of being taught by a corrupt man and the writers making him out of character, because those are two completely different sources that contradict each other. One source is deep-rooted while the other is spontaneous, it can’t be both at once. Considering Edgeworth’s source of sexism is consistantly tied to his character arc, tells me that he’s intentionally written to be sexist.

And that’s not to say that sexism is Edgeworth’s entire personality. Even the characters that I accused of being sexist also have other character traits besides that, and I explained how they are all well-written. I’m not bashing on their characters simply because of this one flaw. So tell me how I’m being biased due to me being a Godot fan? Godot is the character who gets the most unfair treatment because of this issue when it’s something that’s common with the majority of the cast. It’s the reason why I made this long post so I can identify that this is an extremely ridiculous problem within the fandom, and it really needs to be called out. You’re allowed to like or dislike a character without having to demonize anybody. This one flaw of Godot’s character (that’s not even supposed to be intentional mind you, and can be interpreted in many different ways) is used as an excuse to specifically shit on a morally grey dark-skinned character, in a series full of morally grey characters. There’s plenty of characters in this series that have done much, much worse things than he did, but they don’t get nearly as much hate as he does.

The next point I want to talk about is the petnames Godot uses, particularly the “Kitten” petname. He often used it when referring to Mia, because him and her were dating. It’s not uncommon for couples to use cute petnames when referring to one another.

The argument that the fandom tends to use when hating on Godot/Diego is that he’s supposed to be her coworker and he calls her that term to be condescending towards her, and that it makes Mia uncomfortable. Well let me tell you, this is just objectively untrue. Mia does not feel uncomfortable with Diego’s “Kitten” petname for her. She never told him to stop calling her that; you can literally read her inner monologue, and not once has she ever thought about hating the petname, or ever felt uncomfortable around him. She never even lays a finger on him to tell him off. She certainly did that plenty to Grossberg later, she even steps on Phoenix’s foot to tell him off in the anime, she also thought about strangling Edgeworth too, but she never did so much of a slap to Diego. So clearly, she’s completely fine with him.

So what’s the problem then? Are you that insecure that you can’t handle the idea that Mia has a loving boyfriend? Is it really that upsetting to see a man having Mia Fey to himself? They both consent to the Kitten petname, so where’s the problem?

And the reason we don’t see Mia calling him Kitten in return is because we only see them interact in the courtroom. Mia’s not the type to behave like that in that kind of place, but we’ve definitely seen her to be more flirty outside of a trial. Such as when she seduces Victor Kudo for information, and when she offered Phoenix dinner and drinks to celebrate their victory. This makes it easy for me to believe that Mia flirts with Diego outside of a trial, and most likely uses the “Kitten” petname back at him, especially as she got older.

Also Diego calling people “Kitten” isn’t even sexist. He doesn’t solely call women kittens. He’s given the petname to men as well. Such as Ron. He used the same kitten metaphors for Phoenix, particularly with using claws, and he referred to Furio Tigre as a cat several times. Plus he generally has an animal theme going when thinking of nicknames for people. There’s “wild tiger”, “zebra boy”, “cub”, “filly”, “mare” etc.

Another dumb point I’ve seen is that the fandom thinks Diego was harassing Mia simply because they’re coworkers. You can be coworkers and lovers at the same time. Phoenix and Edgeworth are technically coworkers and they’re constantly shipped together by said fandom. If it’s fine for them then it should be fine for Miego too. Diego isn’t even that much older than her either, by about 4 or 5 years. And no, just because he’s older than her, it does not mean he’s taking advantage of her. They’re both grown-ass adults, and they were both in their twenties when they first met.

You’re allowed to not ship them, but you can’t deny that they’re intentionally written to be lovers. They are canon lovers. More canon than Wrightworth will ever be. Their character arcs revolve around their relationship, and their relationship ties together the main story.

Diego being “intentionally” written as a misogynist goes against his character arc. It goes against the fact that he always saw men and women as equals, and it goes against the fact that he put his faith in many women all the way to the end. The random sexist moments contradicts his character, and there weren’t many moments like that to begin with.

Hey, good job making it to the end! There was a lot to unpack there, especially since this is a debate that I’ve witnessed firsthand for almost 8 years! I wanted to put a lot of time and research into this to make it as informative and unbiased as possible. Clearly Godot is a character that means so much to me, and I absolutely had to go over this huge topic so that newer (and older) fans have a better understanding of this issue.

I hope this was an interesting, and maybe, enjoyable read! I really love making long analysis posts like this, and I definitely got more on the way! It’s fun to engage with the fandom like this. Feel free to share your thoughts as long as you keep it civil! ^-^

Have a great day/night! :3

[astars-things]

"Why won't you just leave me alone!" With nolan moyle please. Nolan is visiting Blanks and his sister is obviously home for the summer. Nolan and Blanks throw a party and someone sets y/n off and Nolan see's her upset and won't leave her alone.

pairing Nolan Moyle x Reader

The party had started off great. Blanks and Nolan had invited everyone they knew, filling our house with laughter and music. I mingled, trying to ignore the stress of the past semester, but then someone made a snide comment about my recent breakup, and it felt like a punch to the gut. The words cut deeper than I wanted to admit, and before I knew it, the anger and hurt boiled over.

Nolan stepped closer, his voice gentle but firm. "Y/N, what happened? Are you okay?"

I glared at him, my fists clenched at my sides. "Just go away, Nolan. I don't need you hovering over me."

He didn’t budge. "I’m not hovering. I’m just worried about you."

His persistence only fueled my frustration. I spun on my heel and headed towards the back door, needing to escape the prying eyes and the oppressive concern. Nolan followed, undeterred. I could hear his footsteps behind me as I stepped into the cool night air.

"Y/N, talk to me," he called out, his tone more pleading now.

I whirled around to face him. "Why can't you just leave me alone? Why do you always have to be the hero?"

He stopped a few feet away, his expression softening. "I'm not trying to be a hero. I just care about you. And seeing you upset like this... I can't just ignore it."

I crossed my arms over my chest, my anger waning as the pain seeped back in. "It's just... everything’s a mess, Nolan. And tonight was supposed to be an escape, not a reminder of how broken I feel."

Nolan’s eyes held mine, and for a moment, the rest of the world faded away. He stepped closer, his voice low. "You don't have to go through this alone, Y/N. I'm here for you. Always."

His sincerity disarmed me, and I felt the tears welling up. I turned away, not wanting him to see me break down. But he gently placed a hand on my shoulder, his touch grounding me.

"Let me help," he whispered.

I took a shaky breath, the tears now flowing freely. "I don’t even know where to start."

He pulled me into a hug, his arms wrapping around me protectively. "You don’t have to have all the answers right now. Just let it out. I’m here."

I buried my face in his chest, the sobs coming uncontrollably. For the first time in weeks, I allowed myself to feel the pain, the sadness, and the frustration. And Nolan held me through it all, his presence a steady comfort.

As the tears subsided, I pulled back slightly, looking up at him. "Thank you," I whispered.

He brushed a strand of hair from my face, his touch gentle. "Anytime, Y/N. You’re not alone in this."

I nodded, feeling a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness. Maybe things weren’t as hopeless as they seemed. With Nolan by my side, I felt a strength I hadn’t realized I possessed.

We stood there for a while, the sounds of the party distant now, replaced by the soothing rhythm of our breathing. In that moment, I knew I didn’t have to face my struggles alone. Nolan wouldn’t let me.

As we walked back inside, I glanced at him, a small smile tugging at my lips. "You’re really stubborn, you know that?"

He chuckled, his arm draped around my shoulders. "And you’re really hard to get rid of. But I wouldn’t have it any other way."

[simplydannie]

TRIGGER WARNING ‼️ MENTION OF SLIGHT SA/GUNSH*T

@skydiverdrawings @meadow-hearthfire @grinnworld You guys really had me on my toes! Lol I hope I did okay with it. This is inspired by and written for all of you. Based on @meadow-hearthfire ask here! Also introducing two new characters to you all!

Veneer can’t take it anymore… the abuse is too much… and now even from his own sister. He has the chance to leave, to runaway. He extends his hand to her to come with him… but is she too far gone to now think for herself?

Veneer landed with a loud bang against the wall… his whole body aching in pain.

“Please…. Stop.” He begged. Gruff looked at the Mistress, her green eyes glinting with a desire for pain. She snapped her fingers; the Bergen grasped Veneer by his neck and began pounding away.

“Stop! Please! Velvet!” He cried and begged, he looked to his sister… But Velvet had a distant look in

her eyes mixed with anger….

“Wait.” She finally called out. The Bergen stopped, Mistress turned her head to eye the girl. Velvet walked up to the Bergen, hovering over her brother.

“Why did you do it?… Why did you let him go?” She asked, tears of rage filling her eyes.

“It’s…. It’s not right what we’re doing Vels… We’re frauds. This isn’t right- AH!” He was silenced as Velvet struck him across the face.

“Why do you have to ruin everything!” She struck him again. “That little Troll was working! Working!” Again she struck.

“Velvet, stop, please. You’re hurting me.” Veneer coward into a corner, blocking his face and hugging his knees. Looking up at his sister, he was afraid… who was this, this wasn’t her. She stared at him with a pink glow in her eyes, dark circles appearing underneath.

Velvets breathing began to slow down… she looked down at her brother and saw the same fear when he was a child, when she would protect him from their aunt. But now… he was afraid of her… who was going to protect him from his own sister?

“Idiot.” She walked out the door. Mistress watched the whole thing with a smirk across her face.

“Well look at that. The one person who promised to protect you. Tsk tsk. Poor Vennie. All alone in this big, big world. You let that stupid Troll out.” She knelt down in front him… a little to close for comfort… it brought back horrid memories. “Getting hot and bothered are we.” She placed a hand on his leg, slowly creeping up, “You know this would be fair. You owe me after so much trouble of continually trying to letting that damn Troll out…” Her hand crept to his thigh… he shivered. Mistress leaned her face obviously close, “You’re a very handsome.” Her hand crept farther up, her lips brushing his ear. “I think I know how you’re going to repay me for this mess you caused.” But she pushed him away.

“After your performance, when you’re all dolled up. Then I can have fun with my toy, you owe me and you’re my property. Now, I need to see how I can go about getting another damn Troll. For today, Gruff, Ruff, a few beatings shall do. Enough to hurt him but not kill him. Carry on.” She snapped and walked out the door, leaving Veneer at the mercy of her Bergens…

Floyd had the chance to leave, to runaway, finally go home…. But he came back. There two reasons that he did: Velvet and Veneer. He denied them once, he wasn’t going to do that again. Floyd crept his way back into the vents from which he came. But he had to be careful, getting caught meant loosing a chance to freedom…And possibly loosing the twins. He had to find one of them, and right now, his best bet was finding Veneer first. Something was wrong with Velvet, something had changed her. She wasn’t the same fiery spirit he came to care for, a darkness loomed over her, like she was under the effect of some drug. Veneer, he still had some sensibility, and he was the only one Velvet would listen to right now.

Floyd ran and ran. He had to be quick. He knew the Bergens would pick up his scent, then it all go downhill from there. The little Troll looked through every vent into every room until he fell upon the right one…

“Veneer!” He called out. When he looked in, he found the Rageon lying on the floor, hugging his knees, his shoulders shaking from crying intensely. He made his way out of the vent and down to the boy. Floyd slowly crept up to him. “Veneer?”

He slowly moved his head up to get a good look at the Troll, “Floyd? You’re back? Why didn’t you leave?” A worry crossed his voice, it was then Floyd saw the bruising on his face, the cuts and gashes the Bergens had left him.

“Vennie… what…. What did they do to you?” Floyd said as he placed a gentle hand on the Rageons cheek.

Veneer buried his face again, “…. I can’t take it anymore Floyd…. I can’t…. I hate it …. I hate my life… I hate here. I want to go home.” He cried.

“Back to Under Rageous?”

“At least we were free… we can’t do anything here or make any mistakes. I’m done Floyd!” Veneer cried and cried. Floyd just stood there, holding him as much as he could…

“Then let’s go…” The Troll finally said.

“What?” Veneer looked up with tear stained cheeks.

“I came back for you and your sister. Let’s go. Let’s run and run till we can’t anymore.” Floyd said with a glint of hope in his voice. “Let’s go be a family again. Just us three.”

Veneer stopped trembling for a moment, his face still buried within his hands…he grew silent, terribly silent…. A worry crossed the Trolls face.

“Ven?”

“…Family…Now….Now we’re a family?” Veneer looked up Floyd…his eyes glowing pink again. Oh no, Floyd thought. He had the same look in him when he was trapped, when Veneer trapped Floyd in that damn diamond bottle. Floyd began to slowly step away…

“You were willing to leave us! And NOW were family? After all she’s put us through! You’re kidding me Floyd! You thought me and Velvet were in her thing about using Trolls! You didn’t believe us!” Veneer looked at him, glowing pink eyes, stained in tears. “You told us we were never family! Those were your words!” Veneer ran his hands through hair, pratically pulling pieces off…mad…he was going mad. Floyd was continuing to back away..but then…he stopped. This is what started it, him running away is what drove him mad in the first place. So he stood his ground.

“Ven….I’m sorry….I am SO sorry for ever even doing that to both of you.” Floyd said creeping closer now.

“Saying sorry is going to fix it? Fix what you told us! If I hadnt trapped you’d be gone. We’d be alone!” Veneer began scratching at his skin, “These bugs, get them off me please!”…. There was nothing there. That woman, what was this essence doing to them?

“I know, I know. Trapping me was probably the best thing you did. I deserved it for even thinking of betraying you two, for betraying and leaving my own little brother all those years ago. I am not a good person Ven…” Veneer continue scratching at his skin as Floyd talked, but he was silent…he was listening. “You two…You two brought the color back in me. Do you understand what that means to a Troll? It means you brought me happiness. For so long I was alone…and that was my fault. I don’t know where my family is or if they’re even alive…but I found you two…You two became my family. I deserve all the punishment for even saying those things to you…It had to take me for me to see both of you tortured and manipulated to even see that you didn’t know…that SHE was the one changing you, grooming you…I let that happen…” Tears began forming in the little Trolls eyes as he got near to the Rageon. Veneer had stopped scratching himself, the pink fading from his eyes… “I want to make it up to you…please, please come with me now. That’s why I came back.”

“…What if I don’t want to come with you…” Veneer replied, a calmness finally coming over him.

“…Then I’m staying.. I’ll hide, I’ll get caught again…but I am not leaving you guys ever again.” Floyd replied.

Veneer had calmed down. Floyd could see he was back to himself. He hugged himself, “I can’t take here anymore Floyd….I physically can’t. The beatings. Her taking advan-…” He stopped himself. Floyd didn’t need to know what Mistress would do him sometimes…he didn’t need to know. “I want my sister to be happy, but not like this...I just can’t anymore!”

“Then let’s go to Velvet…and get the hell out of here.”

Night had fallen around the mansion. Veneer waited till the dead of night, before opening his door. There was nothing of value he needed to take, just the clothes on his back, Floyd, and hopefully, his sister. Veneer had saved his oversized red hoodie from the under-city, along with his black skinny jeans and combat boots….of course he HAD to save his dad’s old purple beanie. With Floyd on his shoulder, Veneer made his way out of his room and headed quietly towards his sisters.

“So far…no Bergens.” Floyd said.

“They normally guard her. She doesn’t think we’ll do anything…well…anything like I’m doing now.” He said.

“Point taken.”

Veneer opened the door to Velvet’s room and peeked in. She was sound asleep on her bed, her hair falling loosely around her face. Veneer quietly walked up next to her. He placed a gentle hand on her arm, “Vels?” He said in a whisper. She moaned a little in her sleep, hardly sturring. “Velly?”

“Five minutes.” She muttered…This was the Velvet he knew.

“Vels, it’s me.” He said. Opening her eyes slowly, she looked up at him.

“Ven? What the hell, bro?” She rubbed her eyes and blinked twice when she saw the Troll on his shoulder. “Floyd?”

“Hey, Vels.” He smiled softly, but a scowl came over her face.

“What the hell do you want? I thought you’d be long gone by now.”

“You have every right to be bad. But I couldn’t leave again…I came back, for both of you. We have to leae now.” Floyd warned.

“Leave? Like leave for good?” She repeated looking at her brother and how he was dressed. “You’re serious Ven? You’re really up for this?”

“I can’t take it anymore Vels! What she does to me, what those Bergens do…How you get when your under her, her, her, POISON! I’m loosing you little by little. I can’t have that. We need to leave. We need to leave now.” He said.

Velvet’s mouth hung open…she couldn’t believe it. After all they went through, after all they accomplished…he wanted to leave it behind. “Ven, we’re finally somebody! How do you want to just, LEAVE?”

“We’re stll nobodies! This isn’t us! This show we’re putting on? It’s all her idea! Think about it Vels.”

“We want this Ven! We deserve this!”

“But not like this! Sis, come on! Open your eyes.” He looked at her…a distant look began crossing her face…Her eyes were fading from blue, to pink. No, no, no, he was starting to loose her again. “Vels. Please just hear me.”

“We deserve this.”

“Those are lies. We were somebodies before this. Vels please I’m begging you. Do this….for me.” He held out his hand in hopes she’d take it.

The pink began taking over her eyes entirely, “…..No…..No I’m not sacrificing this…I sacrificed to much for you already…Not anymore…We’re not kids anymore!”

“Please Velvet, “ Tears began to fall down his face, “…I can’t do this anymore. I’m just tired, really tired.”

“….Then you’re not cut out for this…”

“Don’t make me leave you Velvet. Please don’t make me leave you here.”

“Go. I don’t need you. You’ve been nothing but a damn burden Veneer. The more for me, the merrier.”

Floyd looked between both twins. Veneer wiped away the tears in his eyes, he withdrew his hand and slowly backed away…She wasn’t coming…She wasnt going to leave….

“I’m sorry Vels…I can’t….I can’t do this anymore…I’m sorry…I love you…You know that. I really love you.” More tears fell as he turned away and walked out the door. Velvet still sat on her bed, the pink glow around her eyes, her mind couldn’t distringuish between reality or not. She just stared as he left her…

“Ven. What are you doing?” Floyd asked looking back towards her door. Did he really just leave his sister? Veneer would never do that…but then again…that wasn’t his sister…something overcame her that Veneer thought HE couldn’t even save. “Velvet?”

“Don’t Floyd please.” He cried as he continued heading towards the exit….they were almost there….they were almost there…Why didn’t she come with him? Why? His steps began to slow…He couldn’t leave her…He couldn’t…

“And where do you think you are heading too?” A deep voice came from behind. Veneer spun around to see Gruff standing in the hallway…Shoot, they found out. A voice behind Veneer caused him to turn back, Ruff was right behind him…The Bergen extended his arm and wrapped his giant hands around his neck. Veneer began gasping for air.

“I smell Troll.” Ruff replied as he squeezed Veneer’s neck tighter, “Mistress is not going to be happy.”

“Hey! Pea brain!” A voice called from above, standing on a light over head was Floyd, “Leave me kid alone!” Wrapping his hair near a fixture, he whipped himself straight into the Bergens eyes. Ruff cried in pain and let go of Veneer. He fell to the ground gasping for air. Gruff roared and started charging behind him.

“Ven!” Floyd cried. Though the Bergens were strong, they were not quick. Veneer moved within the last second, allowing for Gruff to collide with his Bergen brother…but that wasn’t enough, they began to growl and stir standing on their feet again.

“Run!” Floyd cried as he began running towards the exit.

Veneer ran, scooping Floyd up in his hand as he ran past. He slammed against the exit door, bursting it open. The smells of the outside world hit Veneer, his eyes adjusting to the lights. They were outside, but not free yet. Veneer took off running towards the gates that surrounded the mansion. He could here the Bergens finally coming out behind him.

“I have to make it to the fence..” He said. Floyd was on his shoulder again. He turned around to see the Bergens running like angry bulls.

“Hurry!” The little Troll yelled.

Veneer hadn’t ran like this since his time in the under-city, but muscle memory was catching up to him. He pace quickened. The roars and growls of the Bergens behind were still heard, but they sounded farther. Veneer neared the fence, in a leap, he mounted it and jumped over.

THUD!

He landed on the other side. One quick look at the Bergens and he took off again…off into Mount Rageous. Gruff and Ruff finally reached the gates…but the boy was already far off…

“She’s going to be angry.” Gruff said.

Crowds of Rageons began to appear, that’s when Veneer finally decided to slow down. There was a bench in front of a record store…he sat down and caught his breath. Floyd hopped off his shoulder and on to his lap.

“You okay?” Veneer didn’t respond, he only gave him a thumbs up. “That was pure adrenline right there. We can take it slow. We got to make it out of Mount Rageous and onto the highway that leads out. Pull your hoodie up, hide that green hair as much as you can.” Veneer nodded as he pulled his red hood over his hair and beanie. Floyd hopped back on his shoulder, “Let’s go.”

Hardly anyone really payed him any attention. Of course, no one really saw him out of his glamourous outfits. To them, he was just another Rageon…and for a moment, Veneer enjoyed that. He passed some revenues he knew he and Velvet would have enjoyed…especially the roller rink and pizza parlor. A sadness crept into his heart…He had really left her behind…She could have been here with him. Veneer didn’t know how long he had been wlaking when he suddenly stopped.


“Hey. What’s going on?” Floyd asked.

“…Vels…I left her….”

Floyd sighed with a heavy heart, “You…you did what you had too..”

“…What if she hurts her…”

“She won’t Ven….That woman favored your sister. She’s her pride, her muse…That’s one good thing. She won’t hurt her while we get out of here and figure out how we can come back and get her out.”

Veneer knew if he would go back now…She’d kill him. But he had no choice…Velvet wasn’t going to leave with him…Her heart was now set on something different…He took in a deep breath.

“We have to make it to the highway before they find us.” He said. Veneer continued making his way through the crowds of Mount Rageous undetected…..for now.

Velvet sat on a diamond chair next to Mistress as she went through her files. The Bergens had just reported Veneers escape.

“This brother of yours really is a trouble maker.” She said not even looking up, “Decided to run off without you.”

“I didn’t want to leave with him any way.” She replied dryly. Mistress smirked as she saw the girl was under her control…Total loss of any free will. It all had worked.

“You know it won’t be pretty when my boyfriend get’s his hands on him.”

“Vennie, brought it upon himself.”

“Good. So we’re in agreement….To bad. He was a fun little pleasurable toy to play with every now and then.”

Those words stung Velvet’s heart. Something snapped and clicked inside her, as if the shackles were finally broken, the curtain was finally drawn back. What the hell did she just say? The memory of what their aunt did to her brother was released…Vvelt grew angry, but unlike Veneer, Velvet was cunning, just like Mistress, she knew how to play her game.

“We out grow toys.” Velvet simply replied.

“We sure do. Too bad. He would’ve made me money in other ways. Now. To plan for what we tell the public. You and Veneer broke up, you both decided to go seperate ways. This is your solo debut now…” As the Mistress kept talking, Velvet began planning. She should have ran away with her brother, she should’ve gone up and left…but she was here for one purpose now…to finally get rid of this evil woman once and for all.

It seemed like hours….but they had finally made it…The highway leading away from Mount Rageous. It was build mainly for those to visits Rageous….No one really went out into the rest of the world anymore. Why would they? Rageous had everything, everything they ever wanted…or so that’s what they would make the people think…That’s what Veneer had thought at one point, but it was all just an illusion. He continued slow and steady…his mind and heart stilling thinking about Velvet. He walked in silence as he began to cry…he fell to his knees.

“Ven?”

“…..I miss her….” He cried, balling his fists on his knees. Floyd hopped off his shoulder and onto the ground, placing a small hand on the boy’s thumb.

“I know…I do too. But we need to figure out a plan before going back in there. It won’t be pretty…She won’t be herself.”

“I should’ve tried harder…Maybe I didn’t try hard enough…but I just couldn’t take it anymore…she’d beat me…She would never hit me.” Veneer said.

“Ven, we…” Floyd’s words were cut off as the sound of a car approached. Scooping Floyd up, he placed him in this pocket this time. Veneer didn’t know what to do, he froze. The car came to a screeching halt a few feet in front of him.

“Hello, Vincent.” A familair voice sounded as a hooded, cloaked figure stepped out of the vehicle. The figure pulled back his hood, reveavling a pale Rageon with dark, blue stringy hair pulled back into dreadlocks. Scars were patterened all over his body, he had a sharp toothy grin…Shank. He was one of the few to call the twins by their middle names.

“Where’s you’re hot sister?” He asked.

“Not here.” Veneer scowled…Shank had caused them trouble in the under-city. He was the one who would potentially sell them to the Mistress…his lover.

“Obviously. Got a call from my girl. You’ve been causing her trouble. Now she’s really had enough of you. You know how much money I have to refund her now because of this mess. Lucky she’s hot.” Shank reached into his belt and pulled out a gun…Veneer’s heart sank, he wrapped a protective hand around Floyd.

“What’s going on?” The Troll asked trying to peek out from his pockets.

“She really doesn’t care for you. Your sister was the one with all the potential. You were a fail safe. You’ve actually made it easier on her Vincent. Orginally she planned to stage your death, leaving Velvet with the solo career. But this makes it so much better…Running out on your own sister. Priceless.” His sharp teeth shined as he smiled. Floyd was able to poke his head out, he saw the glint of the gun in the other Rageons hand.

“Just…just let me go…please.” Veneer tried to beg.

“This is a business we run. And no one…I repeat, no one, runs out on us. You’re done, when we say we’re done.” He loaded the gun, pointing it at Veneer. “…And Vincent, we’re done.”

BANG!

“NO!” Floyd tugged on Veneer’s sleeve. What little force he had caused Veneer to move…and with that little move, those few little inches, allowed the bullet to barely miss Veneer’s heart. He cried in pain, pressing his hand where the bullet went through. He staggered, his breathing heavied, his vision began to blur. Veneer got closer to the edge of the highway. His eyes rolled behind his head as he fell off the edge of into whatever waited in the depths below. Shank looked down and spat.

“Good night Vincent.”

As the day passed, Velvet could only think of her brother. Where did he go? How far had he gone? She stood a her vanity and stared at herself in the mirror. What had she become? What made her delusional to not leave with Veneer? She gripped the side of her vanity hard….Velvet finally had enough. She turned and walked out her door.

Mistress had full trust in her. She had to keep it that way…for now. No Bergens followed her around like they did her brother, and she had access to wherever she liked. Mistress had gone off to some meetings in which Velvet wasn’t invited, so she took this opportunity and snuck into her office. Velvet knew it would be locked, but she also knew how to pick locks herself. Within no time, she was in the office of The Mistress. She closed the door behind her and began to dig around.

It began to seem like it was all for nothing. Everywhere she searched was coming out empty… until she came across a locked segment on her desk. Velvet picked the locked and opened it… Files. What good were files? She began peering through them one boy one.

“Trolls?” She flipped through it… the memory of what Floyd told her came to her mind. “Non effective. Dead. Deceased….What the hell? Pop Troll… effective…..Floyd.” Everything he said was true. No wonder he thought they were part of it… What the hell were they using trolls to make?

“The whole damn agency is doing this?” Velvet and Veneer were just the muses of music for them, their pawns in one small act. Whatever Rageons that were part of this agency, were victims of the same thing her and her brother were. But then she figured, many weren’t really victims, some knew, and didn’t care. They wanted the fame and glory, it’s what Velvet had wanted too… but something was more important to her… family. She looked further inside the cabinet for anything else, that’s when she found the vile. A small vile with pink-like liquid inside. There was no label, no names, just a small cursive E imprinted on the lid….Velvet had had enough… Time to cut the head off at least one snake…

Veneer extended his arms… he felt something soft underneath them. Blankets? He moved his head. A pillow? His sense started coming back as he opened his eyes. He found himself in a room. He knew it wasn’t Rageous, the decor was much different. Where was he?

“Ven!” A small familiar voice called out. He turned to see Floyd standing on the drawer next to his bed side. The little Troll hopped on, ran to his face, and hugged him. “You’re awake! And alive!” Relief passing through his body.

“Where… What happened?”

“The highway. That Rageon shot you. Thankfully he missed your heart by inches. We fell, but there was water below. I was afraid you were going to bleed to death.”

“How did we end up here? Where are we?”

“Well, turns out someone was looking for me and happened to find us washed up on the banks.” Floyd turned as a group of smaller Trolls entered the room, “Ven, these are my brothers. Guys, this is Veneer.”

Veneer stared wide-eyed at the group Trolls. He kept of himself from going a little over board… they were just the cutest thing.

“Well our plan was to save our brother from you, but good old Rhonda picked up his scent a mile away and lead us to you two in the nick of time!” John Dory exclaimed.

“You guys moved me all the way over here!?” Veneer exclaimed. The Trolls laughed in unison.

“Well we’re flattered, but Trolls have a limit, even with an armadillo bus helping us. We called for back up.” Clay smiled. He saw the look of confusion on the Rageons face when he mentioned the armadillo bus, “Yeah we’ll explain all that later.”

“Where exactly are we?” Veneer asked.

“BergenTown.” Branch crossed his arms. At the mention of the Bergens Veneer jumped. He only knew the Bergens of Under Rageous, and they were brutal. He panicked and tried to quickly rush out of the bed. “Whoa! Whoa! Take it easy! Man, you’re more frantic than I was when someone mentioned a Bergen.”

“He…. He doesn’t have good experiences with Bergens either.” Floyd said. Branch glanced at his brother then the Rageon. Veneer looked embarrassed.

“Yeah. They’re not as bad as I thought either. You’ll see.” Branch offered a small smile. Veneer glanced at Floyd.

“Vels?”

“You were out a couple of days… I went back and forth. There was no sign of her. I don’t think she followed us Ven.” Floyd replied, a sad look in his eyes. Veneer nodded looking down at his hands…. She made her choice, and he had made his. Did he plan for their choices to pull them away? No. But it did…and he had to live with it for the rest of his life.

“Come on. Let’s introduce you to the rest of BergenTown.”

Months had passed since she last saw her brother. Who knew where in the world he was. She wanted to go after him, and find him. But this plan had taken time, she needed to earn her trust, to make sure Mistress didn’t suspect anything…. Then the day finally came when Velvet just couldn’t take it any longer.

Her and two other young Rageons sat opposite of Mistress. They were her other muses in the music industry, another brother-sister duo a few years older than the twins: Cashmere and Luster. They were more ruthless, more ambitious, unlike the twins, they weren’t under any control, they were doing this for their sick twisted pleasure. They weren’t twins, a year apart. They were also Under Rageons: pale skin, their hair was eggplant purple, they’re were stunning in their own way.

“So dear old Vincent couldn’t take the fame life.” Luster grinned, “Once a loser, always a loser.” He laughed looking at Velvet. “Don’t worry cousin, maybe he died a quick death, somewhat painless death.” Hector smirked.

“Hm.” Was all Velvet replied. Cashmere was quiet… she still hated that her and her brother were below the twins, that Velvet managed to keep her title at the top without Veneer…. That they were still the better cousins.

“We’re done here.” Mistress said walking back into the room. “You two may leave now. You have your batch to last you the month. I except that new music to deliver and bring in the money.” She said to Cashmere and Luster.

“Don’t we always.” Cashmere casted Velvet a devious look before leaving.

“Enjoy your time at the top dear cousin.” Luster spat as he followed his sister.

Velvet was now alone with Mistress. She eyed the woman as she worked through her files. “May I ask why the hell you’re wearing THAT?” She looked at Velvets attire. She had her old dark pink vest from the under-city, tight black crop top, black mini skirt and combat boots.

“I’m not performing. Can’t I wear what I want?” She stated.

“Around me, no.”

Mistress stood up to pour herself her coffee. “I recommend you go change.” She turned to take a sip. Velvet only eyed her, a devious look in her eyes. A smirk started coming across Velvets face.

“….Do many know about the Trolls? About what you do?” Velvet asked.

“What do you think? But who cares. They’re Trolls. Resources for superior beings like us. Under Rageous knows this. Mount Rageous already has the perfect form of Rageons, we just need the talent, the enhancement.” Mistress said as she sipped her coffee.

Velvet smiled, “The perfect form of Rageon. Is that what we’re aiming for?”

“It’s what we’ve achieved. Look at you, look at your cousins. Look at anyone comining out of this agency on top! Look at you. You’re different, beautiful. Basically a goddess amongst them, now think of just making you more than perfect. That’s where the Trolls come in.” She sipped her coffee again. Velvet listened… is this what she had sounded to Veneer at one point? Mad? Velvet continued to smile, but it wasn’t for the reason Mistress thought. The Mistresses face churned as a bitter after taste stained her lips. “What the hell? Who made this?” She began spitting it out. She suddenly grasped her stomach wailing in pain.

“Velvet call an ambulance now!” She yelled as she fell on the floor holding her abdomen. Velvet stared with a gleeful expression as Mistress began to suffer. “VELVET!…. AAHHH…. GRUFF! RUFF!”

“They won’t answer you. I don’t think they will ever again. See, they decided to eat some “troll” chocolate . Idiots. I just wrapped Floyd’s old left over clothes in chocolate and those big idiots ate it up. Funny what kind of poisons you can make with this.” Velvet held up the vile she found that had contained the pink liquid. “I really have you to thank for the idea though.”

Mistress cried and wailed as her stomach burned. “WHAT DID YOU DO!!!”

“Just made sure you wouldn’t see the light of day again…. Or torture my brother.” Velvet kneeled on the Mistresses stomach, putting more pain than what she was already feeling. “How dare you touch him! How dare you take advantage of him! He’s not a freaking toy! And how dare you abuse either one of us for your own game. I know who I am… and I am NOT your pawn.”

White foam began to appear around the Mistresses mouth. She began to gag and choke. “You……vile…….girl……”

“If that means out smarting you, then yes, I’m very vile.” Velvet watched as the life left her eyes, as she took her last breath. Velvet stood up and screamed, she kicked the woman’s lifeless body…. She was gone… The Bergens were gone… and she had to disappear too. Velvet ran back towards the cabinets and collected the evidence she had found. She stuffed them into her backpack she collected….. and she ran….she ran out of building, out of her prison…. She was finally free..

Veneer. She had to go find him…. She hoped he was still alive. Velvet didn’t where to look, she didn’t even know where to start. She must’ve looked like a crazy Rageon running as fast as she did through the city…. Where? Where could she start? The world was big, and it had been months. If Veneer was alive… he could be anywhere.

She saw the glint of the highway. She could somewhat still feel his presence… he was alive, she knew it, she felt it… and she was going to find him.

[todorokistheories]

Rei's Abuse Saved Shouto

Touya and Shouto analysis + deep dive

This sounds batshit fucking crazy but hear me out.

tw: abuse, domestic violence, child abuse, everything that comes with talking about the todorokis

I've been thinking about this a lot.

Touya exists as a cautionary tale for "the abused becomes the abuser" (something I don't really believe in all that much but horikoshi has done some weird shit with the todorokis so we're going with it) in the sense that he never truly learned empathy and/or denounced it for the sake of his revenge. Everything was for Touya. Everything was always about him. He was praised and applauded until he suddenly faced the trauma of realizing he wasn't a masterpiece in his father's eyes. That's a horrible life for a child, it obviously broke him. He believed that he was cast aside and discarded because he couldn't live up to the impossible expectation of being perfect.

This obviously had a HUGE impact on him (literally his reason for everything). The fact that he attacked Shouto, a tiny little baby, only further proves my point that Touya never actually learned how to think outside of himself. He never needed to, and he wasn't shown how to. He was stuck perpetually searching for value that was given to someone else. He still cared for people, but as a child he wasn't given the chance to learn how to empathize.

Empathy is taught, it's not an innate skill. It can be cultivated over time or initial empathy can be smothered, but it is something you work on whether consciously or subconsciously.

Fast forward to Shouto who, yes was also heavily abused, but additionally witnessed the abuse of the only person at the time who was allowed to show him kindness. Touya grew up with his dad loving him, Shouto did not. Touya was told that he, as a person, was special. Shouto was not.

We see throughout the series that watching his mother be abused fundamentally changed the way Shouto saw everything. When his mother disfigures him he immediately blames his father and wants her back. He knows what it's like to be Endeavor's punching bag in a world where you have no support and no way to escape.

He wanted to protect his mom before he even understood what was happening. She was all he had, and all he needed was for her to be able to be there for him. Endeavor never let that happen.

In juxtaposition to this, Touya redirected his anger towards Fuyumi and Natsuo. This is interesting because in the series, Natsuo does a similar thing with Shouto but that could be an entire analysis in and of itself. Touya blamed Rei wholeheartedly because Endeavor was still perfect in his eyes.

Everyone was enough and he just somehow didn't cut it.

Fast forward into his time in the League and it's obvious that he wasn't given the opportunity to change his thinking. Empathy wasn't promoted unless it was for those who were deemed "hurt enough by the hero system." The biggest missed opportunity in mha regarding Touya is that he never learned empathy.

His willingness to kill, regardless of former or current relation and his obvious joy in enacting pain and suffering is just a hallmark of low empathy. It's why Shouto's character is so intriguing as a foil, because he SHOULD hate Endeavor he SHOULD want him dead. But what Shouto wants more than anything is to be the hero that could've saved his mom. She has been a central part of his development, present or not.

This is in no way saying that Rei's abuse was the only thing that could've saved Shouto from following in Touya's footsteps, but it's the only thing from the series itself that explains it.

[cosmerelists]

AITA Posts on Roshar: Part 1

“AITA” is a reddit forum and stands for “Am I The Asshole?” It’s a way for people to get a crowd-sourced view on whether their behavior is acceptable or not. So here are some posts we might see if that forum existed on Roshar!

This ended up getting long, so please look forward to Part 2 later! (or more if people like this)

1. AITA for trying to save my old friend’s legacy?

[per reddit policy details are changed to protect identities!!]

I (LE/M/50) used to be very good friends with a man, let’s call him Danny (LE/M/51). Unfortunately, we’ve grown distant over the years due to his weakness, poor life choices, and growing insanity, but I still care about the man he used to be. Danny and I worked hard to build a “business” together with our other friend, Gavvy (deceased). When Gavvy died, it became very hard to keep the business going, especially since I wanted the business to remain strong, and Danny wanted to destroy it with his terrible ideas, weakness, poor life choices, and growing insanity. Unfortunately, Danny is very popular with the “CEO” Elky, and I could never make Elky see the truth of how Danny was going to destroy everything we had worked so hard to build.

Obviously it was time for Danny to go, but I didn’t want his legacy to be destroyed in the process--I wanted him to go out in a heroic blaze of glory so that he would be remembered well. But here is where I might have been TA: I left him and his son to die. BUT it would have been a glorious death and also the way I set it up was extremely clever and fully in line with Alethi values. Even so, Danny unfortunately survived and now he’s mad and going around and telling everyone that I am TA. 

I don’t think it’s wrong to want to protect an old friend’s legacy. AITA?

2. AITA for throwing the man who saved my sons’ lives into prison?

I know how it sounds. I will not mince words.

A situation arose in which my two sons were liable to be badly maimed if not outright killed. No one would help except for one dark-eyed guard (M/19) who intervened. Nearly at the cost of his own life, he saved both of my sons.

Unfortunately, almost immediately afterwards the DE guard greatly angered the king who ordered him executed. I managed to talk the king into throwing him into prison instead. I thought that in so doing I was both obeying the king I am sworn to obey while also saving the man who saved my sons.

But now the man glowers at me from his prison cell with his dark, pain-filled eyes, and he seems very angry about being in prison. 

Was I wrong? AITA?

3. AITA for wanting dry feet?

This occurred during one of the worst weeks of my (LE/F/17) life--not counting the week where my mom died and the week where my dad died. I had been literally shipwrecked, all my companions and my mentor were dead, and I was trying to make my way to the city where my fiancé lived by any means possible. 

I fell in with this conwoman who mistakenly thought that I was also a conwoman (long story). In order to prevent her from, you know, murdering me in my sleep, I decided to play along until I arrived at my destination. Perhaps not the most ethical, but again, it was my life at stake and I had no allies and no resources.

Another thing that was happening during that time was that my feet were killing me. I was shipwrecked, remember, and I also had to walk a long way with no shoes. I had blisters. My feet were infected for a while. I was literally collecting antiseptic sap from plants to try to keep my feet from rotting off. What I really REALLY needed were good, sturdy boots.

To make a long story short, me and the conwoman lady (who, remember, thought that I was also a conwoman) ran into this DE guard and the conwoman without consulting me pretended that I was a Horneater princess. I had to play along or else she would have known I was tricking her, so I did. And I got kinda caught up in the moment and I ended up demanding that the DE guard give me his boots. Which he did.

Obviously he can just go and get new boots whereas I really needed them. But I kind of feel a little bit guilty because he seemed pretty upset. AITA? 

4. AITA for wanting to date my husband’s brother?

I (LE/F/60) am a widow--my husband has been deceased for a long time now. He was not the best man or the greatest husband. Perhaps that is neither here nor there, but I want it on record that while we were married, I never strayed and I supported him as best I could, even though it was not always mutual.

Now that he is dead, everyone acts as though my life is over, like I am nothing but a widow who should be put on a shelf and left to rot. I do not believe that my life is over. There is another man that I have feelings for...but he happens to be my deceased husband’s brother. This man is a widower himself, and his wife, whom he loved dearly, has also been dead for a long time. I believe that he has feelings for me as well.

Should the two of us be denied happiness simply due to convention, simply because he happens to be the brother of my long-dead husband? He and I are a good match, his sons love me, and I believe that we both deserve happiness.

AITA for wanting this?

5. AITA for forgetting one small detail?

It had been a busy night. I had been ordered to assassinate a king while wearing white. But I also had to be loud so that everyone knew that the king had been assassinated. This meant I killed more people and not just the king.  Also the king disguised himself so I didn’t even know I was fighting the king for a while. I was very stressed. It was hard to kill him. I finally had to collapse a balcony to kill him. And this was during a party and there was a peace treaty and I kept getting my oathstone passed around and I was truthless. Anyway he made a dying wish and of course dying wishes must be honored. I wrote a whole message in his blood (that’s what he wanted me to do. possibly not the blood thing. but the message certainly). he also gave me this weird rock which was also part of the dying wish thing so i did it. even when i abandoned all of my clothes and was basically naked in the rain i kept it. there was a lot going on. but i forgot i had it. there were other more important rocks to worry about than the weird black glowing rock. but now it’s a long time later and i am in prison and the queen seems really mad that i never told her about this one glowing rock that i got from her husband (her husband was the king that i killed). that’s weird right. it was just the one detail that i forgot to mention. but she seems mad about it. aita

6. AITA for saving humanity?

Surely we can all agree that it is better for humanity to be saved than for it to be destroyed completely.

Even if only a small portion of humanity can be saved, that is better than all of humanity dying.

I (LE/M/78) even gained a boon from Cultivation herself so that I would have the capacity to save humanity.

Saving humanity has required me to take actions that others may deem as evil. I accept this--it is the duty of a king to bear the evil so that others may be blameless. 

Yes, I have ordered the deaths of many. Yes, I traded 99% of humanity to an evil god to save 1%. Yes, the 1% happened to be my own city and family. 

But I think we can all agree that I am hardly the asshole to have done all this to save humanity.

Right?

[ikemenfanfiction]

Encounters

Ikemen Sengoku Fanfiction see Masterlist Part 1: Kasugayama Route Suitors: Kenshin & Yukimura Disclaimer: Ikemens Sengoku Characters are the property of Cybird. Word Count: 2200 Warnings: Violence

Mai gulped as the Ronin in front of her unsheathed his sword.

Crap.

Swords were the thing in the Sengoku weren’t they?

Not only was the man in front of her twice her size he was armed. Also she had to consider the fact that she was trying to protect the owner they had been badgering. Even if she took one of the two ronin down there was no way the other one wouldn’t get the upper hand using his target as a hostage.

“There’s no need to hurt him.” She said thinking quickly. She calculated which objects near her could be used to knock him out quickly. The large bowl made out of thick pottery sitting on the counter seemed a good bet. If she could knock out the first guy before he could use his sword she’d only have one assailant to deal with.

“Well well… free food and a pretty lady to keep us company. This day just keeps getting better.” He leered at her.

“I think you and your friend should take your business elsewhere.” She said somehow keeping her voice steady.

“Maybe we’ll do that if there’s something in it for us. What do you say pretty lady? Would you join us for a drink 'elsewhere'?”

He moved in closer backing her up against the counter and getting into her personal space. Damn, this dude needed a bath and a breathe mint. She waited until he moved his hand away from his sword to reach for her. Then she hit him hard over the head with the bowl. The blow was hard enough to shatter it. The

Ronin slumped to the ground unconscious. His companion cursed and rushed towards her leaving the injured owner to tumble to the ground.

She ducked around the counter to evade her new pursuer and nearly reached the exit before he grabbed her. He twisted her arm and she yelped in pain before delivering a knee to the groin making him double over in pain. She was about to rush from the shop-barely able to be relieved he hadn’t drawn his sword-when the sound of one being unsheathed behind her caught her attention.

“Who dares to disturb my drink?” The voice made a chill run down her back. She turned to meet the gaze of a man too beautiful to be real. 

Even more frightening than the sword in his hand was the cold look in his eyes. They seemed empty of all emotion. Frozen in time like some kind of ice demon risen from the snow to punish those who disturbed him. His face was completely symetrical and could have been made of porcelain it was so flawless. His monocromatic eyes held her captive for a moment before she was yanked backwards roughly by the collar.

The ronin she had kicked was flushed red in anger. The pain that shot up her arm was likely to be only the first consequence of that. “So you woke up ready for trouble? You’ll regret-“

“Release the woman.”

A sword was suddenly at the man’s throat. It was so close that Mai flinched backwards grabbing the wall for support. The man-or ice demon or whatever he was-advanced on her assailant moving between the two of them.

“You find pleasure in the pain of others? Perhaps you should discover what it is like to truly suffer pain yourself.”

“She was the one kicking people!” The man stuttered.

“Striking a man without cause is far worse than a woman fighting off the attention of a fiend like yourself. I suggest you settle your debt and leave before I decide to make that your last meal."

The man scrambled for his coin pouch and tossed it to the owner on the ground. "Fine, fine! Just don't do anything crazy!"

The ronin was obviously as affected by the Ice-demon's presence as she was. He hurried over to his disoriented friend who was just waking up between pottery shards. Mai took that moment to go help the injured store owner. She inspected his injuries to see how serious they were then helped him to a seat. "I'll bring you a wet cloth for that bump on your head, or do you have some ice?"

"No it's fine miss. You are too kind to worry about me. I'm just grateful they didn't harm you as well."

The owner sighed looking a little defeated.

"I'm so sorry about your bowl. I'll pay to replace it." Mai handed him the cloth before beggining to pick up the pieces of the shattered pottery. Her arm was bothering her so she had to use her other hand to do most of the work. She was surprised when someone crouched down next to her to help.

"Don't cut yourself. The edges will be sharp." The voice of the ice-demon cautioned her.

Startled she looked up to meet the gaze of the man who saved them. Even with his sword sheathed he was intimidating. His gaze so chilling as to make her heart stop. He stared back at her cocking his head to the side his brow creasing as he gazed at her. She quickly stood moving away from him to dispose of the pieces of the bowl she’d broken.

“Your food was delicious.” She told the owner with a bow. “I’m sorry I need to get going. My employer is expecting me.” She rushed out hoping Kenshin wouldn’t follow.

Yes, that was Kenshin Ueusegi.

She was nearly back at Azuchi Castle when someone called her name. “Mai?”

“Sasuke?” She breathed a relieved sigh at realizing it was her friend and not an angry warlord.

“Hey I thought I saw you earlier. Trying to get your bearings around the market again today?" He smiled warmly. "I was actually hoping to catch you before you headed home.” His gentle brown eyes seemed extra warm and the familiar motion of him straightening his glasses made her smile.

“Well- sort of.“ She sighed, “I just had some lunch and ran into someone unexpected. Two ronin were causing trouble for the tea shop owner and Kenshin Usegi intervened.”

“Oh! So you ran into Lord Kenshin? Uh… great. You weren’t hurt were you?” Sasuke seemed taken back by the revelation.

“One of the Ronin grabbed my arm is all. You mentioned before you saved Kenshin’s life right? Well I’m worried he recognized me from the night Honno-ji burned. I tried to get out of there fast but-“ She broke off. “Wait you’re… Lord Kenshin huh? He’s your boss now?”

“Yeah… he kind of trained me to become his ninja.”

“Which is ironic.” A voice behind her said. “He trains ninja but refuses to hide in enemy territory.”

Mai froze for a split second and then with a knee jerk reaction she stomped on the man’s solar plexus then jerked her knee upward slamming it into his stomach.

“Ouch! What the hell boar woman?!” Yuki coughed painfully.

“Oh damn! I’m sorry Yuki!! I was just attacked so I’m really jumpy.”

“Jumpy isn’t the half of it!!” Yuki groaned.

Great! Sasuke had introduced her to his BFF yesterday and today she attacks him?! Talk about failing to make a good impression!

“I’m sorry Yuki! Can you breath? Awe man! Ultimate friend fail!” She and Sasuke helped Yuki sit down while he recovered from having the breath knocked out of him.

“For a fail that was certainly impressive. Especially where you’re favoring your dominant arm. Are you sure you don’t want to train to be a ninja while we’re here?”

"Are you kidding? She’d kick her ally instead of her target!” Yuki wheezed.

“Sorry Sasuke. If anything today has convinced me to avoid ninja training.” She rubbed Yuki’s back soothingly. “Can you breathe now? Is your foot ok?”

“A woman with empathy toward her victims? She definitely wouldn’t be worth the trouble of training.” Another voice stated calmly.

Oh crap.

Mai looked up to find the unfriendly ice demon visage of Kenshin Usegi peering down at her. “Sasuke. Please explain why this woman is in Azuchi after you helped her the night of Honno-ji.” Kenshin said with an edge of malice.

[shittyness]

I’ve got a new theory!!

It’s been a minute since I wrote one so it’s probably not my best work lol

Anyway! This one’s about Martyn! I don’t think I’ve made one for him yet actually 

Spoilers under the cut

So as Martyn had confirmed under Ryan’s post, he isn’t a listener

And he isn’t a Watcher

I think he’s still a player, but one the listeners protected, and the watchers wanted to take

I think that’s why he has heard messages from the watchers in the past

They want to make him one of them, but because he’s under the listeners protection from back in Evo they can’t

So they still use him, but at the same time they try to temp him to join them by showing him all the power he can have.

Martyn has a strong will and is able to fight off the temptation,  but he still is curious on the Watchers goals, motives, and reasonings behind their actions 

I think at some point he had tried to ask Grian, or any of the other former Evo members, but the watchers had taken their memories (or in Grian’s case it might’ve been too painful to retell it)

So if Martyn is suspended in this in between of the watchers and the listeners, what does that mean? To me it means that he has these two opposing parties fighting for him to side with them the listeners wanting him to remain a player, and the watchers wanting him to join their ranks. Both parties keep trying to either make the other side look bad, like the listeners did in Evo, making promises to Martyn without any evidence that they’ll keep them, or by gifting him power for him to chance after, like I believe the watchers did in limited life (think a child of divorced parents, where both are trying to get the kid to decide to live with them full time)

Another point I’d like to make it, while I know the life series isn’t scripted, in lore I think it makes sense if the watchers choose who will win the season. 

My explanations:

3rd Life: Grian won. Grian is also a former watcher, and as Martyn’s last life lore (specifically the ‘he was only ever meant to watch’ line) proves, the watchers don’t like that he’s a player again. So the watchers chose for him to win to once again win his favor and remind him of the power they wield. But Grian saw right through their schemes, and him jumping off the cliff on monopoly mountain was kind of his way of telling them he doesn’t need their power to be happy, and in a way that he’s better then them. Obviously they didn’t like that and so they cursed him to always be a part of his closest allies demise. I think their anger was most apparent in limited life, for example, out of the 3 people who had to miss a session, Grian was the only one without a fill in. Grian was also the first one to loose his main alliance

Last life: Scott won. Before I start this one, I will admit I don’t know as much about this season, especially Scott’s character, and I don’t currently have the time to watch all his episodes. Anyway Scott and the Watchers like mutually dislike each other. (I believe Martyn said this once) and I’m pretty sure this started in last life with Scott being the boogie man. So I think the watchers had Scott win despite their hatred to try and force him back into line. I think they wanted him to fear them and wanted him to see the extent of their abilities and control. I think they wanted him to see the truth so that he would worship them. But obviously we know that didn’t work either

Double Life: Pearl won. Pearl won because she was the most interesting for the watchers to watch, and she had the most negative emotions throughout the season. Her story was one of overcoming these tragedies while also dealing with her decent into madness. She lost her soulmate because she chose to go to the nether to try and benefit them over finding Scott. Then after Scott and Cleo left Pearl and Martyn and Pearl was already heartbroken, Martyn left her as well. Then throughout the season she becomes an omen of death and destruction. As she became more and more insane, she also grew more and more upset. Eventually she did end up teaming with Scott, Cleo, and Martyn. But by then the damage was already done. Finally when she did win, she was surrounded by grief. She had lost her soulmate again, she had also just watched Scott sacrifice himself for her to win the game, and she had killed her only other surviving friend throughout the entire game. She had the most negative emotions, and the most interesting story to watch.

Limited life: Martyn won. He won for all the reasons I said before. The watchers wanted to show their power, and get him to join them. They made him win by giving him that dose of power and bloodlust to kill Impulse and Scott. They had that control over him.

Anyway, that’s the end of my rants for now! If anyone read this I hope you found it interesting and I hope it makes sense lmao

[luna-writes-stuff]

Chapter XLII

A Kili X OC fic

Previous chapter // Next chapter

TW: Not proofread (yet). Descriptions/mentions of injuries, blood and ache. Descriptive trauma’s from Ravenhill (for both Kili and Raewyn), trouble processing everything. Mentions of burning finger tips. Bittersweet angst.

Based off of Metallica’s Until It Sleeps

————————————————————————

Did the author really just combine this with a writing challenge to satisfy both audiences? Absolutely. Pining is a dish best served cold.

“Where do I take this pain of mine? I run but it stays right my side.”

Gandalf never not spoke in riddles. It furiated Raewyn beyond words, but it was and would always be something that she would have to live with. When she had asked him about Zharad, he remained his usual mysterious self, refusing to give straight answers instead of crypted words. If it wasn't for her fatigue and injuries, she might have punched him.

All she found out about Zharad was that she was indeed married into her family, but worked in a small village as a healer. She was considered an outcast for the people there, but still a welcome addition. She hadn't known of Raewyn's existence out of protection for the younger Asha. Gandalf feared that any message that could be intercepted could not only risk the life of Zharad, but also Raewyn. Thus, he kept them separated. When she had grown of age and left the old wizard, Gandalf had almost anticipated she would come back with the news of her aunt, but she never did. And as they scarcely met over the years, Gandalf saw no reason to mention it. After all, it was in his best belief Raewyn learned to let go of that which had plagued her for years.

Raewyn disagreed, obviously.

“So tear me open, pour me out. There's things inside that scream and shout. And the pain still hates me, So hold me, until it sleeps.”

Much to her dismay, Zharad had left before Raewyn had any say in it. Gandalf offered her a way of contact would they have the urge to meet again, which the Asha had gracefully accepted. The call to leave hadn't been Gandalf's after all - Zharad had left on her own accord, claiming her town needed her and Raewyn would heal if she only did what had been recommended. That should have been enough to soothe anyone's mind concerning Raewyn's health.

It didn't, obviously.

After her, less conversation, more screaming, with Gandalf, she had taken off to her tent in a messy stumble, sitting back down on the cot in defeat and anger. Kili had followed her once more, ignoring the glares he got from Oín when it became apparent he too hadn't followed any medical advice.

“Just like the curse, just like the stray. You feed it once and now it stays, now it stays.”

"Why does he get a say in my family?" Raewyn ranted, still over in her head from Gandalf's words. "All my life, I thought he truly wanted to help me, but he's been hiding this since the beginning!" Running a hand through her hair in frustration, she tried to calm herself down.

"I understand now might not be the time," Kili began. "But do you not think there is at least a little truth in Gandalf's words?" At those words, Raewyn's eyebrows furrowed together in more frustration, doing her best to not glare. Kili tensed under the notion all the same, but continued: "He was doing what he could to keep you safe."

When Raewyn refused to verbally respond to him, he decided to keep going carefully. "He raised you as a child - I thought you considered him family. I'm not saying he gets to decide your life, but what he did was with good reason."

"Are you turning against me too?" That made Kili halt. Gently, he sat down on his knees in front of her, now seeing her face. Rage had washed into guilt and sorrow, and he could not help but let the emotions pierce his heart as well.

“So tear me open but beware; There's things inside without a care. And the dirt still stains me, So wash me, until I'm clean.”

"Rae," He began softly, placing his hands on top of hers, its coarse bandages lightly scratching her skin. "No one is turning against you." "It feels like it." She mumbled, not moving under his hold. She slowly raised her head, meeting the dwarf's eyes.

"He lied to me, Kili." As much as he understood Gandalf's point, he felt for Raewyn. To have the one thing you consider family hiding the fact that you still have living ancestors out there, even after witnessing the brutal massacre of the rest of them. He understood her as much as he understood the old wizard, which meant he also realised that trying to convince her of Gandalf's innocence was not going to work now.

"Listen to me," He tried. "Everyone here has done their best to keep you safe, to keep you healing. No one in this mountain right now has any ideas of turning against you." Searching his eyes for any kinds of lies or amusement, she sighed. She knew he was being honest - he always was against her. She didn't necessarily need to observe him in order to recognise that. She simply sought an excuse to look at him just a little longer. But his shift of conversation seemed to work for now, for a cracked smile appeared on her face: "That must have been a pain,"

Shaking his head with a tiny chuckle, he looked down at their hands, noting the slight tension in Raewyn's. "Must've hurt Thorin's ego." She followed, a hint of humour on her tongue. Then, sincerity returned: "How long was I out?"

“It grips you, so hold me. It stains you, so hold me.”

He knew the question was coming; it must have been on her mind since the moment she woke. In all truth, he had lost count of it. He lost count after two days, when sleep failed to visit him regularly. "Longer than we wanted," He settled on, which wasn't a lie for him. "But you are here, that is what matters. Don't waste your energy on distrusting family or starting fights. Please, just focus on healing now."

A soft smile made its way to Raewyn's face, barely recognisable, but Kili saw it. "You're good at this." She muttered. "Talking." "I'm an excellent talker." The dwarf joked, shooting a wink her way.

"I know," She agreed. "Thank you."

“It hates you, so hold me. It holds you, so hold me. Until it sleeps.”

Ultimately, the dwarf rose, letting go of Raewyn's hands as he looked around the dishevelled tent. The smell of blood, mud and sweat hung heavy in the air, and he scrunched his nose up as the scent finally reached him. "We should get you to your room. I figure this can become clammy."

"My room?" The Asha voiced confused, observing the dwarf intently. "Yes," He nodded, turning to Raewyn. "We would not let you stay here in the barns."

Her face fell slightly upon his speech, not knowing how to go against his words again. Unfortunately, she'd be as honest to him as he was to her, and she shook her head to him. "Kili, I do not know if I will stay here." The smile from his face disappeared quickly, a worried glance in his eyes now. A weightless yet sinking feeling entered his stomach: "Why not?"

Shrugging in futility, Raewyn looked at her empty hands. "It is not really a home for a ranger, is it?" Kili's head leaned to the side slightly, a worried frown on his face, all decisions and thoughts swirling through his head in a whirlwind.

"It doesn't have to be." "Ki-" "The reason you wanted to join this quest was to kill the last name on your father's list, was it not?" He interrupted quickly. A look of wonder crossed Raewyn's face, her eyes falling on his figure. "You remembered that?" She wondered incredulously.

“So tell me why you've chosen me. Don't want your grip, don't want your greed, don't want it.”

"You are done," He sighed aloud, falling back to his knees, the Asha's eyes following his every movement. "Rae, you don't have to avenge your family's name your entire life. You forgave Thorin, you killed the dragon, you killed Azog, you met your aunt. You did it, Rae. You avenged them." Again, his hands found hers, squeezing them through his pain. Piercing brown eyes met hers, a look so pleading in them, she was speechless for them for a second. "So what is in it for you now?"

Swallowing harshly, she tried to push her compliance down, insecurities taking over as she spoke through a shaking voice: "It is all I've ever known." Heartbreak flashed through Kili as she spoke those words - not even for him, but for her. She never belonged anywhere, she wandered with an old wizard and lived a life of revenge and agony. She had no comforts of someone she could run to or talk to; she had no safe space. And he'd be damned if he'd let her leave without one after their entire journey.

“I'll tear me open, make you gone. No more can you hurt anyone. And the fear still shakes me, So hold me, until it sleeps.”

"It doesn't have to be." "Ki-" "The reason you wanted to join this quest was to kill the last name on your father's list, was it not?" He interrupted quickly. A look of wonder crossed Raewyn's face, her eyes falling on his figure. "You remembered that?" She wondered incredulously.

"You are done," He sighed aloud, falling back to his knees, the Asha's eyes following his every movement. "Rae, you don't have to avenge your family's name your entire life. You forgave Thorin, you killed the dragon, you killed Azog, you met your aunt. You did it, Rae. You avenged them." Again, his hands found hers, squeezing them through his pain. Piercing brown eyes met hers, a look so pleading in them, she was speechless for them for a second. "So what is in it for you now?"

Swallowing harshly, she tried to push her compliance down, insecurities taking over as she spoke through a shaking voice: "It is all I've ever known." Heartbreak flashed through Kili as she spoke those words - not even for him, but for her. She never belonged anywhere, she wandered with an old wizard and lived a life of revenge and agony. She had no comforts of someone she could run to or talk to; she had no safe space. And he'd be damned if he'd let her leave without one after their entire journey.

"It doesn't have to be." He whispered. "You can stay." A tiny scoff of sympathy escaped her: "And do what?" "You could become a captain of the guard." He announced without thinking, cursing himself silently for speaking these words. "Excuse me?" Raewyn coughed out, noting Kili's eyes quickly closing in regret.

"Thorin wanted to propose it once you were completely healed, but he can't if you have already left." He revealed. Passion engulfed him as he continued to explain the idea. "You could help people here: Erebor, Dale, the borders of Mirkwood. You have the experience and loyalty of no other - there is no better person to take this role than you."

Raewyn was silent at this confession. He didn't expect her to not be, it was quite the revelation. But he did not want her to leave either. She needed to stay. If not for herself, than for him. But he wouldn't tell her that. At least, not now, while she was still half asleep. He shouldn't have dropped this topic like that, but he needed a good reason for her to stay for at least a couple more days. "I understand it is a difficult decision to make right now, but please, just think it over." He proposed. "Don't leave yet."

“It grips you, so hold me. It stains you, so hold me.”

It was such a Kili thing to make Raewyn ponder over solutions to questions she'd usually already know the answer to. If he had asked her to position for captain of the guard a month ago, she would have wholeheartedly refused, probably mocking him and laughing in his face for good measure. If there was anything, beside stubbornness, that Ashas were known for, it was for their hatred - or extreme disdain - towards kingdoms and those of higher standards. A hierarchy was never needed for them. It took years for her to even warm up to Elrond; she still struggles to address him properly. It was almost as if asking a hobbit to live in solitude for the rest of its life: you didn't do it. But, per usual, Kili went completely against her expectations and got away with it easily.

So, there she sat, completely stunned and wordless on top of a warm and comfortable bed. In pure dwarvish fashion, it had been adorned with blankets, sheets, and pillows beyond counting, and though it was extremely comfortable, Raewyn found it too hot to place herself in the midst of it now. The young prince had walked her to her room, pointing her towards the two doors leading to his bedroom and his brother's respectively, in case something were to arise. It was a short walk away, but even now, it felt miles away. Ever since she woke, people had been swarming her, and now she was ultimately alone.

“It hates you, so hold me. It holds you, holds you, holds you. Until it sleeps.”

It was a terrifying thought for her. Realisation hit as she silently recounted the bodies she had seen on the battlefield when meeting Fili earlier. She had lived when so many others lost their lives. She still couldn't comprehend how. She recounted the freezing breeze on Ravenhill, and the shouts and yells of the orcs. The terrible malice in Azog's eyes as he swung her body across the ice. A short shock ripped through her body as his eyes appeared in front of her, an iron grip suddenly on her ankles. Pulling her legs up in reflex, she hissed loudly when her bandages scratched the open wound on her back, tears quickly gathering in her eyes.

The lack of air, the freezing waters over her body, the uncomfortable feeling of her clothes clinging to her skin, the bared muscles on her back, painful hands grasping her tightly, a heart wrenching scream. She was jerked from her memories sharply when her fingertips met the burning flames of the candle on her night stand. She hadn't noticed she was inching towards it until she felt the blisters forming on her fingertips.

"Shit," She mumbled, pushing the burned fingertips to the blankets beneath her. The turmoil within her refused to settle, whatsoever. The cold was gone now, but confusion remained. She wanted to let the issue rest - leave Zharad for what she knew, but after the old dwarrow's words, she couldn't help but wonder how many others she had known before the slaughter.

“I don't want it, I don't want it, want it, want it, Want it, want it, no.”

Standing up quickly, she ignored the pain shooting through her back as she stumbled towards the door. She thought a moment alone would give her enough time to think - to properly process everything - but it hadn’t. If anything, being alone only seemed to amplify her distress and confusion. No; the last thing she needed right now was to be alone with her thoughts. As much as she’d like for everything to just be quiet.

The halls were empty now. From the distance, she could hear a few voices talking with each other in hushed tones, but that was all there seemed to be right now. It was a chilling contrast to the ambiance in the mountain only days earlier. She didn’t know what she preferred. A walk through the halls now seemed to last forever with the impending silence, whereas it earlier felt as a brief walk. She didn’t know how long she had been walking - or stumbling - until a voice cut through the silence.

“What are you doing up?” The tone was not hostile, but genuinely confused. Turning around, she came face to face with Bofur, his head tilted slightly at the sight of Raewyn: “I thought Kili showed you your chambers?” Taken by surprise, all that she could really utter, was a simple ‘yes’, before she finally came to her senses: “I just needed to stretch my legs.” “Lass, no offence,” the dwarf began kindly. “But I don’t think it is a good idea for you to be up and about right now.” “I’ll be fine.” Raewyn dismissed him, trying to continue her walk, but in her pace, Bofur was quick to catch up: “I should walk you back to your room.”

She sighed at that, knowing it was probably a good idea if she wasn’t to be left alone now. That was the entire reason she had stepped into the halls to begin with. Thus, she relented: “Do you know where Kili is?” A slight smile appeared on Bofur’s face, but he tried to keep it hidden. “He’s in his chamber.” “Where is that?” “Across from yours.” He then said hesitantly, as if it surprised him she didn’t know that. “I’ll walk with you.”

“So tear me open but beware; The things inside without a care. And the dirt still stains me, So wash me 'til I'm clean.”

Standing up quickly, she ignored the pain shooting through her back as she stumbled towards the door. She thought a moment alone would give her enough time to think - to properly process everything - but it hadn't. If anything, being alone only seemed to amplify her distress and confusion. No; the last thing she needed right now was to be alone with her thoughts. As much as she'd like for everything to just be quiet.

The halls were empty now. From the distance, she could hear a few voices talking with each other in hushed tones, but that was all there seemed to be right now. It was a chilling contrast to the ambiance in the mountain only days earlier. She didn't know what she preferred. A walk through the halls now seemed to last forever with the impending silence, whereas it earlier felt as a brief walk. She didn't know how long she had been walking - or stumbling - until a voice cut through the silence.

"What are you doing up?" The tone was not hostile, but genuinely confused. Turning around, she came face to face with Bofur, his head tilted slightly at the sight of Raewyn: "I thought Kili showed you your chambers?" Taken by surprise, all that she could really utter, was a simple 'yes', before she finally came to her senses: "I just needed to stretch my legs."

"Lass, no offence," the dwarf began kindly. "But I don't think it is a good idea for you to be up and about right now."

"I'll be fine." Raewyn dismissed him, trying to continue her walk, but in her pace, Bofur was quick to catch up: "I should walk you back to your room."

She sighed at that, knowing it was probably a good idea if she wasn't to be left alone now. That was the entire reason she had stepped into the halls to begin with. Thus, she relented: "Do you know where Kili is?" A slight smile appeared on Bofur's face, but he tried to keep it hidden.

"He's in his chamber."

"Where is that?"

"Across from yours." He then said hesitantly, as if it surprised him she didn't know that. "I'll walk with you."

Bofur was patient as he walked beside Raewyn, letting her set the pace, though it was achingly slow. When they finally arrived at Kili's door, it didn't take long for him to arrive after Bofur knocked. Though it was late, he didn't appear to be asleep. Unless he managed to jump out of bed at the first knock. "What's wrong-" he started, almost out of reflex, but when he saw Raewyn, his frown deepened. "Is everything alright?"

"The lass was looking for you. Didn't know where you were." "Oh," Kili breathed, his eyes not moving from Raewyn's figure. Bofur noticed, and merely nodded his head. "Right then. Good night." And with that, he was gone again.

Kili immediately walked up to Raewyn, his hands gently finding her shoulders as he forced her to look at him. "Are you alright?"

She couldn't really answer. How would she even begin to explain everything? He'd been through enough. He was resting too - she shouldn't lay her burdens on his mind. How would he even be able to help? Why did she want to seek him out in specific? The unanswered questions combined with her earlier dread seemed to snap the thin wire. She opened her mouth to say something, but instead, a ragged breath came out, and she had to fight to keep her tears in. He noticed. Of course he did. He seemed to notice everything.

"Come here." He whispered, leading her into his room as he closed the door behind her. She didn't want to fall apart right there, but when his arms gently wrapped around her, pulling her into his frame, she was left with little choice. Tears fell down her cheeks as she clutched onto his back, revelling in the comfort his sheer being simply seemed to radiate. He didn't say anything for a long time. Not until she had finally calmed down and the grip on his tunic had lessened.

“I'll tear me open, make you gone. No longer will you hurt anyone.”

"What happened?" He asked in a hushed voice, keeping her at an arm's length as he looked at her. Again, she failed to answer him, her head falling against his chest in exhaustion. Almost instinctively, his hand brushed her forehead, frowning as he felt the beads of sweat rolling off her face: "Hey, you're boiling."

Then, ultimately, her voice found its way back to her, even as it slightly cracked: "How are you alright with all of this?"

Seemingly hesitant at her words, Kili frowned. "I'm sorry?" "It's just..." Raewyn trailed off, not sure what exactly to tell him. He refused to fill the silence that followed, leaving her almost obligated to finish her sentence. "Each time I close my eyes-" She stopped talking. She didn't know what to say. How would she even begin to explain it? An involuntary chill ran up her spine as the memories resurfaced. "It's so cold."

Kili led her to the hearth in his room, kneeling down onto the fur rugs as Raewyn followed his lead, keeping a considerate distance from the fire. It was then that the dwarf noticed her coloured finger tips. "What happened to your fingers?" He gasped, grasping one of her hands in his, inspecting them closely. She let him.

"I don't know." She mumbled, but shook out of her thoughts quickly, changing her answer. "I burned them, but not on purpose." Kili's eyes met hers, concern and confusion evident within them. "It was so cold." She tried to defend. With that, Kili rose from his seat, causing Raewyn to clutch onto his sleeve, ignoring the burning pain it gave her fingers.

"No, please-" "I'm getting a bowl of water for you." "No," she dismissed, a look in her eyes unlike any Kili had seen before. If he had, it had certainly not been coming from her. There was so much evident distress and panic, just as he planned to walk away. "Please stay." She repeated, exhaling a sigh of relief as he sat back down beside her, his heart beating wildly at her sudden change in behaviour

"Alright."

“And the hate still shapes me. So hold me, until it sleeps.”

They simply sat there for a moment, far enough from the fire that Raewyn wouldn't come too close again, but not far enough to not feel the warmth radiating off of it. Yet, regardless of all that, Kili still felt helpless: "Is there anything I can do to help?"

She answered quickly, as if the answer had been on the tip of her tongue to begin with. "Just stay." She swallowed harshly, sitting closer to him until their shoulders were touching. "I don't want to be alone."

"You won't have to be." He whispered, doing his best to comfort her in any way he could.

"Everything is done, but it-" she ranted, trying to find the right words. "It doesn't feel over." "I know." The dwarf agreed, unsure of whether he should embrace her again or leave her for a moment. She was hard to read at times, and he did not want to take anything the wrong way. If he didn't get his hopes up, he wouldn't be disappointed.

Raewyn didn't notice his internal struggle. She simply looked up at him, some flabbergasted. "You know?" "I haven't had a good sleep for days." He confessed. Each time he tried to sleep, he'd see that dreaded hill, and Raewyn's figure refusing to resurface. The blood that had stained his hands that wasn't his, the crack of ribs as he tried to resuscitate the dying figure, the way she hadn't woken up in days. It caused him more agony than relief. Even after it all had ended.

"Each time I am by myself, my mind plagues me. It shows me things that have already come to pass. I can't seem to get it out." Raewyn nodded at that, somewhat glad she wasn't the only one, even if she felt he didn't deserve to receive the pain she had been going through. She would never wish that upon him. But she didn't tell him that.

"Me neither." She whispered, then leaned her head on his shoulder as her eyes became glued to the fire in front of her.

"Ki, it was so cold." She muttered, her hands trying to find a comfortable way to lay on her lap. "You're alright." He hummed, noticing her struggle. Again, his hands reached for hers, the freezing touch of hers sending an involuntary shiver along his arms. He pushed it down. She seemed to relax under his warmth.

"You're here now."

“Until it sleeps, until it sleeps. Until it sleeps, until it sleeps.”

——

Taglist:

@errruvande @writingawaymylife @justnerdystuffs @spidergirla5 @fallenangeloflight @bianavacker-is-bi-as-hell @lxdymormont @deathofafangirl01 @the-cranck-hobbit @chaoticpaintsplatter @bxtchopolis @radbarbariancupcake @gay-destiel

[tsumtsumrry]

Laura

the one where harry’s never home.

              (1.4k words)

“How many times to I have to fucking tell you? Huh?” Laura spits at him with very apparent anger and distress in her voice, throwing her arms in the air as she speaks and then bringing them back down to cross over her chest in almost a protective manner. 

“You ask me how I feel, then I tell you, and then you try to make me feel like I’m insane for the way I feel. You do it all the time!” she adds. She’s starting to lose her nerve and it’s becoming increasingly obvious that Harry doesn’t get it, nor does he care to. 

“Babe, I don’t know what you want me to do alright? You said you want me to spend more time with you, but I’m trying to get you to understand that I can’t do that with all the hours at the studio we’ve booked!”

“How hard is it to spend time with me, Harry? You are not at the studio twenty-four seven, you can take a fucking break!” Laura yells and she can see Harry flinch at the volume and hurt in her voice, but she doesn’t care, she keeps going. 

“I’m so done. So done with--with feeling like I’m the only one in this relationship. You’re never here, Harry. Ever. You have to know how tiring that is, you have to.” she says, her voice cracking and breaking sporadically throughout the sentence. 

She hates herself for feeling weak, for showing him any emotion. She’s stuck between wanting him to know that he’s hurting her and not wanting to give him the power to know that he has any affect on her at all. 

“You keep acting like you didn’t know how it was going to b-” Harry starts, but Laura interjects with an angry incredulous tone, feeling like if this were a cartoon you would surely see the steam coming out from her ears. 

“Are you kidding me? This isn’t how it was when it first started, even when you were doing the first album, hell, even when you were on fucking tour! This is an us thing, this isn’t just a ‘studio’ thing and you know it!”

Laura knows that Harry has never been good and communicating or showing any intense emotions. He’s not good with confrontation and always ends every argument before it starts with a simple “can we not do this right now?” or “can we talk about this later” accompanied with an empty “I love you” 

Laura knows they have to talk out their problems and she wishes they could, but Harry just won’t allow it, no matter how hard she tries. 

“It's obviously different now, Lore” she winces slightly at the nickname and he frowns at it “the second album is a lot more work and it’s a lot more important to me-” 

“More important to you than me?” Laura interjects. 

Harry stands there in silence for a second, like he’s actually thinking over it in his head and Laura presses a hand to her chest to deaden the pain before her heart cracks and she doubles over. She scoffs in disbelief and she starts to walk. 

Harry looks up and realizes he had been standing there just looking at her for a minute and he doesn’t even register what’s going on when Laura walks past him and into the direction of their bedroom. 

He thinks it’s just gonna be one of those nights where they argue and they both just drop it and go to sleep, and he’s grateful for that. It was a long day at the studio and he really doesn’t need this. 

He assumes that the sound of drawers slamming are just Laura being dramatic and getting settled into her pajamas, and the sound of commotion on the dresser is just her taking off her jewelry. 

He makes a cup of tea in all the time that Laura’s in the bedroom, probably sleeping and he sighs and allows himself to think about the events of today. It was a pretty good day at the studio, they got a good bit of work done and everything went relatively smoothly. 

Harry was very happy with all they’ve accomplished on the second album, he’s put everything he has into it and he can’t wait to share it with his fans. The album might be the most important thing in his life. 

All thoughts about the album, his immense success and adoring fans are wiped away so quickly it gives him whiplash when he sees Laura walking calmly out of their room with two full-looking suitcases packed. 

He jumps away from the counter he was leaning on and almost spills his tea in the process. He sets down his tea on the counter and tries to rush over to her to stop her but she’s not having any of it. 

“What? Lore--Laura, Lore stop.” 

Laura and Harry have had plenty of fights over the course of their five-year relationship, but it’s never ended with either of them packing any bags and walking out the door. The reality of the fact that Laura really might be leaving is hitting him like a freight train in the gut and he can already feel his chest tightening and tears welling up in his eyes.

“Laura, baby, please stop. We can--I can fix this. Just stop, please.” he rushes out, clearly in a panic. Laura whips her head around to let him talk, Harry wants her to give him another chance, and quite frankly so does she. So she’s giving him a shot to fix this, but he just stands there, his mouth opening and closing like he doesn’t know what to say. 

Laura thinks this should be easy for him, that he should have to do such an extensive search in his mind for why he loves his girlfriend and wants her to stay. Laura doesn’t think it should be like this. 

So she gets a tighter grip on the handle of her rolling suitcases and starts walking again. Harry immediately scrambles and tries to pull the suitcases out of her grasp and she only tightens her hold. “Harry. Just stop. This isn’t working. We aren’t working.” 

She’s currently battling emotionally with herself. She wants to give in like she always does and she doesn’t want to hurt Harry, but what about how she feels? This relationship is clearly draining her. Right? This is surely the right decision. Right? Laura’s is also physically battling with herself, forcing her eyes to stop the tears from falling down her face. She can’t cry right now. This is her being strong, this is her finally being strong. 

The tears are rolling down Harry’s cheeks faster now, his face flushed a tinted pink that could pass for red and his heart felt like it was beating faster than the speed of light. “No no no, just, please? I swear I’ll spend more time with you, I’ll stay home, I’ll do whatever, I’ll talk to you. Can you just….please?” 

His words are getting less and less coherent as his crying gets more and more amplified and Laura felt pain in her chest from seeing the person she loves so much in so much pain, but then she thought back to all the times where Harry would see her break down in front of him and he would brush it off, try to invalidate her feelings, or even say nothing. He didn’t give a shit when she was in pain. He didn’t care at all. 

At the realization she gives the suitcase a hard tug so Harry’s grip on it would be forced to be released and she started to walk faster. 

“Lore! Laura! Baby, stop, please please stop.” Harry started to run after her, pausing when she picked up her keys. 

She’s actually doing this. 

Laura stops her walking abruptly and a little hope sprouts in Harry’s heart, she looks down at her suitcase and then back at him. 

“I’m staying at my mom’s house for a bit.” A bit? Could this mean she was coming back? The little sprout of hope in Harry’s heart is getting ready to grow into a full blown tree and if he was sitting he’d be on the edge of his seat. 

“I’ll be back in the morning to pick up the rest of my stuff.” 

Harry’s heart drops so far and so hard that if it could, he feels it would’ve splattered and hit the floor, “baby?” He whispers softly, so softly that no one would hear it if there was one wheel on Laura’s suitcase that hitched and rubbed against the floor a bit. 

And he practically crumbles there on the floor when the door shuts with Laura on the other side of it.

[aetherealmoss]

Okay, hear me out, this should be anonymous bc digital footprint and shit but whatever HEAR ME OUT!!!

Soap was sexually abused in his childhood by a close family friend, a man from the military they met in church (military part optional, it'd be more for plot convenience, but church part is important)

He's an adult now, it should be fine, he's grown taller and stronger than that man ever was, but when someone far too similar to him (or, if u want that extra step of drama, actually him) appears, all that emotional stability CRUMBLES.

HE FEELS LIKE A CHILD AGAIN, LIKE THE BOY WHO BEGGED FOR PROTECTION BUT GOT TOLD OFF BY HIS PARENTS BC "XX is a good married Christian man, he's not a fag."

I just need to see Soap spiralling and diving headfirst into depression and the panic attacks that follow a single touch from any of his colleagues EXCEPT Ghost.

Because it's always Ghost, it will always be Ghost.

If this is too chaotic lmk I got very into it

It gets worse before it gets better, for sure.

thank u so much for the lovely request <;3 u can also read it over at ao3!

rating: mature

tags: #angst #slight it gets worse before it gets better #religious trauma #religious guilt #religious themes and imagery #implied/referenced child abuse #implied/referenced past rape #getting together #comforting through the worst imaginable #they argue #they solve it right after but #anger #lots of it #starry nights and coffees #witchcraft practices mentioned and slightly done #self-harm #soap bites the skin around his nails until they bleed #pierced ghost

---

Soap has always been told that anger lives in the pits of the stomach, and when it comes up to show itself, it is a monster. It is a monster that burns up from soft intestines, burns upwards and upwards and upwards until it reaches the mouth, until it bears and grows its teeth, until it sinks its fangs into the world and controls it. 

But, for him, the anger is a monster that travels fast and burns even brighter and it comes right from the tips of his fingers, up into his knuckles, and he is just like his father when he strikes first, asks later. 

When the world bares its fangs at him, Soap raises his claws, and he obviously strikes first, he knows how to find exactly where it hurts every single time and he attacks precisely there. He is entirely unlike his mother, with her cold and slow anger.

So maybe it’s some sort of karmic retribution when a man walks into their meeting room and Soap reels. He has memories of the past in the forefront of his mind, because that man he has those same eyes that haunt him, that same fucking build that once towered over him, the same sharpness on his face that he so used to adore in that fucked up way he did and even the same beard that would cut and hurt. The same cross necklace smacking his chest, God is mocking him even now, at his big age. The same military standing that he used to idolise.

It all reminds him far too much of the past. A past he has striven to forget, a past he has worked tirelessly with countless therapists to overcome, a past that should not affect him like it does just then—he feels all his organs shut down.

And he thinks, over and over again, that by his big age, he should be fine and he should be completely and utterly sane—yet his fingers twitch, his jaw sets, his breathing hitches—Ghost looks at him and it’s fucking humiliating, the way he can see right through him.

He can’t stop the memories that flood his brain—he still remembers the begging, the blood, the angry screams, the pained screams, the god, the prayers, the tears, the touches, the grandmother’s protection. He is empty of everything that is good, if he remembers the past and that man so fucking vividly. How empty of him, to be so full of someone he hates.

He knows, internally and in a very faraway part of his brain, that none of it is real. Not anymore, anyways. But his body still clams up, he is still terrified, and the world still tips and eventually crashes when Price calls out into the room. 

If there is a God, Soap will swallow Him whole, will make Him cry.

God has a mean and sadistic streak, and Soap almost laughs at the irony of the situation, and he would’ve and could’ve just ran away if it weren’t for the tears springing into his eyes and threatening to overflow. 

He hates Him.

Perhaps he would strike first this time too, of the anger won in the end. He would have God kneeling, the fucker at the tip of his knife, the world cradling a bomb.

“This is the team we’ll be working alongside for this mission,” his voice is calm and collected and he has not noticed Soap’s inner (almost outer) panic. Soap does not blame him for it, yet he wants to. Price does not know anything about his past beyond what he needed, and he did not need to know of the predator that lives in Soap’s mind. 

The man’s eyes fall on him, and he has to do everything in his power to not simply get up and walk away—or worse, pull out a gun and shoot the fucker in the face—, to ignore the pull and tug of the world wanting to tip and fall apart, even though the man has done nothing and Soap is just projecting his issues into innocent people who don’t deserve his anger. 

He doesn’t even know the man. Perhaps he is a wonderful soldier, perhaps he is not even religious, just uses the cross in honour of someone else. But his brain doesn’t care about that, and he is entirely ruled by his emotions, and the man is just old enough to remind him of a married man with wandering hands and God as an excuse for wanting someone as young as Soap had been.

He feels like a sobbing child again, asking a God he doesn’t believe in to save him because no other adult would. 

He feels like a bitter and angry child again, asking why neither God nor anyone ever saved him.

“I hope you will, at least, be cordial with each other,” because Price cannot ask for people to like each other, especially not people glued together with just the wishes of peace.

He continues with his talk, goes over the details of the mission, which Soap pays no attention to, which will bite him in the ass later on, he assumes, but he is seething in anger and fear and he knows Ghost’s eyes are on him—intensively, extensively—but he finds he can’t make his jaw work beyond its clenching and his stomach is so twisted that he feels he’s going to puke. His fingers are going into overdrive as he taps them against his bouncing leg. He wants to go back to his bad habits, to bite his fingers until they are raw and bloody. He’s so fucking tired of being afraid of men with just the right characteristics.

“—dismissed,” is the last word he catches from Price’s mouth, and he watches as everyone slowly gets up and leaves. Gaz hangs back to stay with him, touches Soap’s shoulder—

“Don’t touch me,” he demands, he is mean beyond what he needs to be, and he watches Gaz's excited face crumble. Of course, he didn’t notice anything, he was excited about another mission, about another opportunity to save the world of all its evil. Ghost tenses up beside him.

Price calls for him before he can even say anything. He’s eternally thankful for it. He’s sure he would’ve snapped even worse if he had remained, if he had asked. He doesn’t want to deal with questions. 

He can feel Price’s eyes on him. He ignores them with a ferocity only dogs should know.

He watches them move, with a perspective that makes him feel as though he is in a body that isn’t his own, watches his own body remain stuck to his chair. He feels a presence on his side, and he almost lashes out.

“Soap,” Ghost’s voice comes with a kindness he doesn’t know how to deal with, hasn’t really heard it like that before, and if he were in any other state, he would think about it for days to come. Maybe even daydream about it. But in his current state, they just make his walls come up higher, stronger. He doesn’t deal well with kindness in the face of his fucked up past.

“What?” comes his harsh reply, instead. Ghost straightens, looms over Soap instead of leaning into his eyeline, his face settles into something harsher instead, the lines of their boundaries boldens. Soap raises a hand up to his mouth anyways, starts slowly peeling away at the skin on the tips of his fingers, right besides his pretty fucked up nails, he has not done this in years. He bleeds almost instantly.

“What happened?”

“Nothing,” he mumbles it around his gnawing. He can almost tell Ghost wants to slap his hand away, but he thankfully doesn’t. He allows Soap a moment of self-destruction. Soap feels like he deserves that moment, that piece of self-destruction, he held himself together quite well. Is still holding himself together… well enough.

“You look like you’re about to explode.”

“Oh, aye, Lt, wish that were the case,” he wishes he could explode. At least that would be pretty. “It’s nothin’, there’s nothin’ wrong. Just leave, aye? Sure Price is callin’ ye or somethin’.” his accent lulls out stronger. He wants to be left alone, he wants Ghost to keep pushing. He doesn’t know what the fuck to do. Doesn’t know what the fuck he wants.

“Pull yourself together,” the words lull out like a bullet and he knows Ghost doesn’t even know he’s holding a weapon, but it strikes him all the same. His jaw moves all on its own, but Ghost hasn’t stopped talking. “We need you clear and sane for the mission.” he turns on his heels, leaves the room with a slam of the door.

Belatedly, Soap wishes he hadn’t left. Wishes even more that he hadn’t acted like he did. He feels like a child again, feels entirely too much like he is turning into his father, always quick to anger and quick to snap.

“Fuck.” his voice cracks around the edges. He closes his eyes, tears spill out without his permission, and he is now entirely grateful that Ghost did not stick around. He does not want him to hear the shake of his voice, does not want him to see this part of him, so shameful and entirely ugly.

—

When the sun rises and the teams roll out, Soap is cursing all the gods alive and dead and inbetween for putting him in the same fucking team as the fucker that keeps triggering his past memories. His fingers are raw and bleeding into his gloves and he questions all that there is in the world, how dare God allow this to happen to him? What kind of God even is He? 

Sure, it isn’t anyone’s fault but his own that he didn’t speak up and tell them about it or, at least, tell them to keep him far, far away from him—but who wants to admit to a past like his own, to people who supposedly admire him and his work? Not him, certainly, because he has a penchant for making life harder for himself.

His jaw is clenched and his teeth hurt from the strength of them on each other, and his hold on his gun is firmer and stronger than it ever has been before, and he knows Gaz is looking and looking at him like he’s a total foreigner in the body of Soap, with the way he remains silent through it all, with the way he gives Ghost one-worded replies whenever he needs to. There are no jokes he can tell that don’t make his heart race.

Soap really hopes he won’t ask anything, especially not where they are and not once they’re done here, because he knows his reply won’t be good, or kind, or even make sense to people who have no context.

“Soap,” he hears that man’s gravely voice, fucked through years of cigarettes burrying in his longs, and he locks up—flashes pass through his mind like he’s back there, the name is different but he’s there. “You’re clear to detonate.” and he unlocks all at once rapidly, because the mission is far more important than his triggers, and he’s nodding his head before he realizes it and he starts stepping towards the building. There’s simply something in him that knows how to fight and when and where—he knows this fight since he was very small, he carries it like a badge of honour through the ages and the years. And the fight is only outwardly when it calls for it, and it hasn’t called yet.

He doesn’t know what he’s exploding, exactly, but Price gave his orders and so did this captain, and he just knows he is and that’s all he really needs to know for the maniac inside him to feel delighted in making anything at all explode. Even though he feels he’s the one who he should explore.

He knows he’s doing something reckless when a hand belonging to that captain fucker brushes his back in a pat and a low ‘well done’ is murmured right into his ear, because the finger on the detonation finger is so very intentional and his press of it even more.

The building explodes in a beautiful symphony of sounds and colours and collapses. 

The team is only far enough for minor injuries to happen, but when his comms come back to life, his ears ring and yet he can still hear his captain’s voice, Price’s harsh voice echoes in a way that is entirely too familiar.

He should feel a certain type of regret, but he only regrets not being inside the collapsed building, so maybe he should hold off on feeling things like that.

—

“What were you thinking?” is the first thing Price says to him, because as soon as he saw him, he motioned with his hands and kept his mouth firmly shut. And now they’re back on base and it is deserted except for them. Gaz and Ghost are there too, but they definitely look like they don’t want to be. Gaz shifts his weight between his feet, Ghost holds his chin high. “Do you understand that that could’ve gone entirely wrong?”

“I didn’t mean—” he did, in some way. Price taught him all about fighting the wrongs of the world, gave him ways of aiming his anger at the right people, taught him how to bare his teeth instead of just his fists—and he knows he used it in the wrong goddamn place.

“But you did it,” Price says, with a certain firmness that has Soap reeling. He steps closer to Soap, hits his chest with a finger, Soap breathes and breathes and only hears the words spoken because they’re so fucking insane. “So you’re on timeout.”

“What?” he asks, incredulous, almost laughs at the situation. “What am I, a kid?” he feels utterly unfloored, and his hands twitch at his side, and Price’s finger imprints into his chest like a burning that doesn’t feel good, at all, and he knows Price is nothing like the man in his memories, but any touch at all has him spiralling. “Ye cannae just do that.” and he can’t because it feels like he’s back home, with his parents blaming him for someone else’s wandering hands, with his parents telling him it was all his fault and that they didn’t believe his pleas for safety.

“If you behave like one, you’re gonna be treated like one. What else did you expect?” he shakes his head, taps at Soap’s chest again and his eyes settle harder when Soap slaps his hand away. “I’m your captain, Soap, don’t forget that. I can do what I please, and you’ll listen, and comply.”

“Oh, fuck right off. Ye cannae be serious!” his voice raises beyond what he wants it to, and in the ultimate not-child-like move, he leaves the common room, stomps (he’d like to believe he walked) into his own room.

The door slams behind him, and he knows he’s being entirely insane, and he knows he did something stupid and he can and will full well admit it at a later time, but his heart is beating too fast and he’s so beyond fucking scared that he doesn’t know what else to do.

He moves through the room with a nervous fluttering of steps, he turns the whole place upside down until he finds what he wants—until his hands come across silver pentagrams and old tarot cards and random crystals, and he remembers his grandmother, and he almost starts sobbing right then and there, as he clasps the necklace tight around his neck.

He misses the only person who ever understood him, the only golden thread tying him to his lineage, the only one that he bears with pride.

He feels like life is always going to be like this, terrible and haunting and burning.

He goes through the motions of his rituals, of his vigils, of the things his grandmother taught him and that he kept close to his chest. He doesn’t care if he believes its actual protection or not—he does it all the same, finds comfort in the way the sigils come to him with ease, in the overwhelming scent of burning candles, in the prayers his grandmother made, in the protection he believes he still carries from her.

He thinks he should have a hold of his emotions far better than this, but he doesn’t and he doesn’t and he doesn’t, so he just watches his hands stain the paper sigils as he places them against each other, as he burns them, as he claims them.

When there’s a knock on his door, he thinks for half a second that it could be the man, and he knows that’s ridiculous yet he thinks it all the same—but Ghost’s voice sounds out and his heart half-settles. He swallows down the panic, places down the candle and the sigil.

“Sergeant.” knock, knock, knock. A melodious little thing.

“What do ye want, Ghost?” he’s tired and he’s angry and he’s exhausted of all this fear that he masks as anger, all this anger that comes off like fear, and his voice sounds entirely like not his own at all. He just wants to scream at someone, and yet he knows none of the people he can scream at have any fault, so he holds his tongue and his anger.

But where does he put it? Where does he put the anger, so it won’t lash out? Where does he put it when he doesn’t want to set it down, because if he does he’s going to cry.

“I’m your babysitter,” he lets it hang in the air for a little. “Let me in.”

“The fuck do ye mean, my babysitter?” he opens the door, anger brimming again and again and he’d lash out, he knows he would, if it were anyone but Ghost standing there—or at least he believes that he can hold himself back from hurting Ghost. Could he even hurt him? His words aren’t worth that much.

(he left the door unlocked, just in case, and now he regrets it.)

He shrugs, waits for Soap to step to the side before he steps inside the room, because Soap does step aside, leaning against the wall as Soap stands there, arms crossed and angry, always angry these past few days.

“Don’t know,” he tilts his head, eyes focused on Soap, and he knows Ghost knows and Ghost knows he knows, and there’s no need for all these fucking riddles, but they speak through them all the same. “Price thought you might need a handler.”

“And you’re it?” it’s ridiculous that his anger doesn’t settle into the joke of the situation, doesn’t dwindle and die out.

“Who else?” Soap thinks, doesn’t come up with anyone, and he feels the distaste in his mouth, swallows it down so he doesn’t scream out. “Exactly. Now, settle down. Stand down.”

Soap shakes his head, he doesn’t know what the hell Ghost is thinking, but he cannot possibly think he can handle Soap when he’s off his handle. 

He doesn’t move, not even when Ghost nods his head towards his bed, as if motioning him to sit down.

“What happened?”

“Ye know exactly what happened,” he says it slowly, like Ghost is stupid for even asking that.

“I know what happened, yeah, from my point of view. From Price’s. Even from Gaz’s,” he moves a hand through the air, and Soap almost flinches at it, at the similarity of movements—his father in the shape of God, the lingering hurt in his body. “Not yours, though. So,” like he’s just casually asking for the weather. “What happened?”

“It’s entirely none of yer business, Ghost.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Sergeant,” he tuts, looks Soap right in the eyes again. “Because we’re both here, ain’t we? So it’s my bloody problem when you fly off the handle like that.”

“I didn’t fly off the handle—”

“No? So you put your team at risk just… for the fun of it?”

“I didnae mean to put ye in danger—”

“But you did,” Soap frowns. Where the hell are they going with this? “And I know you enough to know you’d never do that without reason. So I’m asking.” because he could be doing something else, he could be digging, he could sink his teeth into Soap’s brain and come up with all the answers he needs, that he wants.

“Ye wanna know? Go lookin’ for it,” he sees the movement of Ghost’s jaw, the tensing of his shoulders. “Cause I won’t tell ye shit, Lt, cause it ain’t none of yer business, and if ye just leave me alone, I’ll be back to normal tomorrow.”

“That’s not gonna fuckin’ work,” Ghost tilts his head, taps his fingers against his thigh, crosses his arms after. 

Soap just brings his hands up in the air, shrugs like they’re at an impasse. 

Somehow, he feels like he’s losing this argument by losing his temper, yet he cannot hold back the way anger shimmers and burns at the center of his palm.

“Leave, Ghost.”

Ghost doesn’t move and Soap closes his eyes, breathes in and out, wrings his hands together and feels the sting and burn of his torn-up skin—it doesn’t help settle his anger, at all.

“Ghost, I’m not in the mood for this shite, alright? So just leave me alone for a fucking second and we’ll return back to normal.”

“Still not possible or plausible, sergeant,” he shakes his head. “Not when I was there when you got like this. So, spill, or you’ll overflow and get yourself killed and, Johnny, I’m not gonna watch that, or even allow it to happen.”

“And why the fuck would ye care, Ghost? So what if I’m losing my damn mind?” he knows he is an animal let loose, baring its teeth at anyone who dares get too close, his anger feeds itself off of his body and feeds him anger back. “The fuck’s that gotta do with ye? Besides any professional basis, cause what you’re doin’ here ain’t fucking professional worry or some shite like that.”

“Johnny—”

“No! I’m serious here, what the fuck are ye doing here? Price sent ye? Really? Ye expect me to believe that?”

“Soap—”

“Cause I don’t, ye know? Believe that—”

“If you let me speak,” Ghost raises his voice just above Soap’s, watches him flinch and step back. Lowers his voice again. “I can tell you why I’m here.”

Soap sets his jaw. Nods.

“I’m worried about you, Johnny,” and that is a confession he wasn’t expecting. It almost makes him break. “‘Cause I saw you in that meeting room, and I know that look. I know that look and those eyes and that fear, and I’m really hoping you’ll tell me I’m seeing shit or projecting.”

“Well, ye are. Now, leave.” he points at the door, like that will entice Ghost to step out. Ghost remains against the wall, as he has for their whole interaction. “Please, Ghost, just leave.”

Ghost taps his arm, sighs, bumps his head back against the wall.

“Why are you even being stubborn?”

“Because it’s private, alright? Ye ever heard of privacy? I’m sure ye have shit ye don’t want me to know about—”

“No.”

“What?”

“No, I don’t,” he shrugs. “You can ask me anythin’ you wanna.”

“Oh, that’s bullshit and ye know it.”

“Ask, then.”

“I—I don’t—that’s not the point!” he brings his hands up in the air, moves them around. “Why are ye being like this, honestly? I don’t wanna tell ye anything, and I’m not gonna, and I wish ye’d stop asking about it.”

“Then we’ll just stay here like good ol’ boys until you calm down.”

“I’m perfectly calm.”

“Didn’t know you had a thing for lying.”

“Oh, fuck off,” he throws him the finger, mildly wonders why and then does it more firmly. He turns around so he can’t look at Ghost. If he can’t see him, Ghost can’t see him back, or some other bullshit logic like that.

He’s almost vibrating out of his skin. He can feel his hands shaking. He brings one up to his mouth and he tastes iron and smells blood immediately and yet he bites at the skin anyways. His eyes burn. Oh, he really doesn’t want to cry.

He hears Ghost moving, hears the shuffling of his uniform, the strength of his steps. He feels him looming over his back for a second and holds his breath. Then hears the creaking of the bed, the coldness of his back.

“These beds don’t get any better,” he hears Ghost mutter, almost laughs, but the laugh that bubbles up in his throat turns into a sob and he tilts himself even further away from Ghost’s line of sight.

Fuck.

His shoulders tremble, his whole body does, and he clutches helplessly at his pentagram, blood mixes with iron mixes with tears.

He feels Ghost at his back again, gentle hands on his elbows, and he’s being dragged to bed and made to sit down. He curls up, draws his body down until he’s almost chest-to-knees, and he cries because he started and now he can’t fucking stop.

Ghost’s hand is on the small of his back, making soothing sorts of motions over and over again.

“This is stupid,” he mutters to himself mostly, between sobs. “This is so fucking stupid.”

“Hey,” Ghost starts but Soap doesn’t let him finish, snaps up and looks at Ghost, even though he’s crying and he looks pathetic and red and blotchy.

“No, alright? This is stupid and I’m being stupid and this whole thing shouldn’t’ve happened and I’m sorry, okay? I just—he just—” he closes his eyes tightly and waits for the words to form correctly. “He looks so much like him. But it’s not him, and I keep—fuck.” he shakes his head, looks at Ghost, almost startles at the way he’s looking back at him. Like he knows. Like he understands.

He forces his eyes and head away, stares holes into the ground as he tries to stop crying.

He hiccups and takes stuttering breaths in uneven manners, feels the crawling of fear like it is a good friend, understands that his eyes are overflowing and his mind is running far too fast.

Ghost’s hand wraps around his wrist—before Soap can fight him and snap, Ghost brings it to his chest, presses his palm tightly over his heart.

“Breathe with me, Johnny,” he murmurs, voice low and calm and he has this sort of magic way of making Soap feel better with so little. It makes him feel like he’s not too far gone to be healed. “Come on. Good boy,” Soap’s chest trembles with the slow breathing, with the way his eyes still shed tears.

“Sorry,” he says between cries and breaths. “Just—I don’t know. I don’t know how to not tell Price and have this… figure itself out.” he appreciates Ghost all the same, even between the frustration of circling around each other for months at this point.

“Don’t think Price is gonna allow you in the field anytime soon,” Ghost hums at his own words, taps Soap’s wrist and presses his fingers harder against Soap’s back. The weight is comforting. It makes breathing easier again. “You’ll get an eval soon, even.”

“They know, anyway. They cleared me back then. It’s just… an episode, or something.”

“Think they’ll clear you now, too?” Soap bites his tongue, feels the inner turmoil in his brain blare. And then he shrugs.

“Hopefully,” his voice cracks and he winces. He looks back at Ghost, sees himself reflected back in his brown eyes. Feels the squeezes of his wrist. “I need a coffee. And fresh air.”

“I think I can allow that,” but Ghost doesn’t move. His jaw grinds back and forth, like he wants to say something. Soap steals his hand back, rubs both his hands over his eyes, cleans up the tears and breathes in far too deeply.

“Just say it, Ghost. What is it?”

“I know a spot.”

“What?” he laughs a little, confused, staring up at Ghost through his hands.

“Stargazing. I know a spot for that.”

“Far?”

“No, pretty close.”

“Take me there, then, warden, don’t wanna be in this prison.”

“Only a little dramatic.” Soap shrugs, gives him a watery type of grin. Soap watches as his mask folds and unfolds, hiding his smile underneath it.

Ghost gets up, turns to Soap, and outstretches his hand. Soap takes it with glee, and allows himself to be dragged up from his bed and out of his room.

—

The world breathes its tale as Soap waits for Ghost to return with their coffees. He’s checking his fingers and the damage he has done to them, face crumpled in guilt—he had worked so hard to break the habit, and he just completely fucked up his own progress. 

He supposes triggers work like that, anyways, but it doesn’t make him feel any better or less guilty or less wrong.

He supposes, too, that he was simply born wrong, that he won’t ever be forgiven for all his sins, that his birth was against the word of God and He cursed him and lodged Himself into his body to never allow happiness to course freely through it.

It’s… a tad dramatic.

He laughs at himself, shakes his head. He wishes he could rid himself of thoughts like that.

“What’s so funny?” he tilts his head back and up at Ghost, who appears suddenly, who looks utterly ridiculous with the silliest mugs in hand and that intimidating build and fucking skull mask.

“Right now? Ye are. Did ye know ye look ridiculous?”

“Thought you liked it,” he sits down next to Soap. “With all that staring you do.”

“I don’t stare,” Ghost just looks at him, and passes him his mug (this cat shaped, horrifying thing) and he looks back, and then crumbles, takes the warm mug in his cold hands. “Fine. Whatever. But ye still look ridiculous.” 

Ghost laughs, this startled little noise in the back of his throat that slips without him wanting it to. Soap delights in every note of it.

Ghost sits down next to him, just a few spaces closer than usual, and Soap bumps their knees together, then remains against the warmth of Ghost’s legs. He wants to lean further against him, but his heart unsettles at the thought of it, and his mind races in just the slightest incorrect manner. 

Soap isn’t an expert on silence, and this whole situation has been slowly eating him up from the inside-out, and he taps his bloody-bleeding fingers against his knee to maybe shut himself up.

It doesn’t work.

“I used to go to church,” he starts, slowly. “Thought it was so cool to be with my parents for a day of the week, where they wouldn’t argue, and they wouldn’t yell at me for some shite I probably did.”

“Doesn’t surprise me you were a troublemaker.”

“Aye, still am, ain’t I?”

“Exactly.”

“I was really good at it, which was totally a reasonable thing to want, I’m sure,” he shakes his head. “I knew the books back to front, front to back, talked to so many priests they knew me by name, by sin.” he clicks his tongue against his teeth, feels the rising of blood that overflows his mouth. “And then he showed up. This… cool military guy. I was… eight, maybe.”

Ghost’s hand finds his, presses palm into knuckles, intertwines fingers tightly. He sighs, both at the warmth that spreads through him and at what he’s about to confess.

“I thought he was so cool. And he would know everything, too. And he would be so willing to answer any and all of my questions. I used to wonder why,” he wets his lips, swallows the lump in his throat. Ghost squeezes his hand, a silent you don’t have to talk anymore. He works past the stoppage on his throat, anyway, because he wants to give Ghost some more of him. “Now, I know why, but back then it was all this wonder and admiration. All this… love, for some sort of fatherly figure that wouldn’t punish me for my questions.”

He closes his eyes. He’s not sure why he’s saying all this anymore. What will it help? Does talking have to help?

“The first time… it happened, I was nine. And he asked me to come home with him because he had something to give me,” he looks at Ghost. Ghost looks back. He can see the way his brows are furrowed. “I wish I hadn’t gone. I remember crying, I remember telling my parents, I remember their yelling, their punishment, like I made that fucker do what he did to me, like I wasn’t the victim in the situation. It kept happening and I—I don’t even remember half the times it happened, I just know they did, because I’d write it down. ‘It happened again’, in this pink diary I stole from one of my sisters.” he moves a hand through the air. “Dunno where it even is, anymore. I hope no one found it, don’t wanna traumatise them with the shite I wrote in that.”

Ghost inches closer, their arms are pressed together now, too, and he shivers. Ghost remains silent, lets Soap work through the words swirling in his brain, wanting to spill from his mouth.

“I know it wasn’t my fault, ye know? I went through intense therapy for this, back when I was 18 and threw myself at the army like it’d stop the church from following. The same thing happened then. A captain that was just a little too similar to him. That’s how they even found out anything happened, I mean, there weren’t any police reports or anything. Just… word of mouth, back then,” he shrugs. “Small towns, aye? People talk.”

“Yeah,” Ghost’s voice punches out of his throat, he looks like he’s the one suffering for Soap. Soap bumps shoulders with him, takes a sip from his coffee, warms up at the hotness of it, at the way Ghost knows his order even though he teases him for its sweetness.

“My nan was the only one that believed me,” he tugs at the pentagram hanging from his neck. “She was upset with God, with the church, even more with my parents, with her own son. I remember her turning to me, all anger and beauty, and saying ‘we’ll figure out our own religion, make up our own Gods, and they’ll protect ye correctly this time’. She found paganism, witchcraft. I didn’t… don’t believe in it, same as how I don’t believe in God, but I thought it was fun, and it would give me an excuse to be at her house for longer than I should. And her house would always smell really nice, and I could be a kid freely and without fear.”

“Is your grandma—”

“Dead. Few years back. Old age, or something. Fucked me up real good, too. The therapy sessions had to start up all over again and everything.”

He sighs, slowly lowers himself to the ground, bumps his head against the soft grass. There’s a pretty yellow flower at the corner of his view. Ghost’s head follows his movements, but he remains upright.

“I thought I was over it for good. I mean, Price looks nothing like him, but he’s a captain all the same and I like him, don’t feel any fear around him. And maybe I stupidly thought that I’d never find anyone like him ever again.”

“Not stupid.”

“I know. Just… I was naive. I was unaware of how much that fucked me up when I knew I shouldn’t be,” he tugs at Ghost’s hand. “I should’ve told Price, right?”

“Yeah. It’d be important for him to know. Could’ve prevented you almost killing your own teammates.”

“Sorry,” the apology isn’t even meant for Ghost, really, because all he did to Ghost was not talk to him, and compared to almost killing someone, he thinks that might be on the lower half of the importance list. He apologises anyways. He missed their banter. “I was just… so angry, and so tired of being afraid of everything and—and a part of me thought… that ye wouldn’t believe me, or just… tell me to suck it up, be a man,” he runs his tongue over his teeth. “Been in enough teams where that happened, y’know? The brain really fucks ye up, aye?”

Ghost is silent.

Soap would take offence to it, or maybe clam up all over again, if it weren’t for the tight hold on his hand, and the bright shine of the starry sky, and the moon is full and beautiful. It all feels like a holiness he can have and hold.

He closes his eyes. Breathes in the soft scent of coffee mingling with fresh and beautiful grass mingling with Ghost’s wood-like aroma.

He hears a lot of rustling, feels Ghost move, but he never lets go of his hand, so he only opens his eyes once the noises stop. 

Ghost’s bare face overwhelms his eyes.

He blinks a couple too times.

And he is entirely over the overwhelming shame religions bring, but Ghost just looks like something holy, like something he cannot have, and he craves it, craves him, wants him entirely and selfishly to himself.

“Hi?” he watches Ghost’s face break into a smile, and he is entirely enamoured by it.

“Secret for a secret.”

“The whole team knows what ye look like—” Ghost tilts his head, and Soap looks closer. There is a glint in the silver moonlight, that catches light and has Soap sitting up and getting far too uncomfortably close to Ghost’s face. “The hell is that?”

“Can’t actually have them,” Soap brings a hand up, touches Ghost’s eyebrow and glides along it, circles the glistening piercing there. Ghost lets his eyes flutter shut.

“Ye have so many of ‘em. Does Price know?”

“Yeah. Found out by accident,” Soap’s hand tracks the path of his face, of his scars, meets his nose in all its elegant brokenness, taps at the little stud on the side of his nose, flicks his septum piercing up just to watch Ghost’s face scrunch.

And then he lets his hand drop, doesn’t dare going too far, going as far as touching the ones decorating his lips. Ghost opens his eyes again, looks at Soap.

“I think my secret is far more interesting,” Soap says, frowning just a little, just playfully enough for Ghost’s brows to raise.

“You don’t look like you actually think that.”

“Well, Ghost, ye are a very interesting man,” he tilts his head. “And I already knew my secret. So…” he mumbles, eyes trained in the way Ghost’s mouth moves, the way he darts his tongue over the piercings, the way his tongue also has a flash of jewellery in it.

Ghost squeezes his hand. 

Good gods, if Ghost were the one to destroy him, he’d allow it. Follow him into broken buildings and collapsed thoughts.

“Really fucking sucks that you’re actually handsome,” he frowns at Soap’s statement, confusion written all over his pretty face. “Even worse that you’re cocky about it. How am I meant to compliment ye? Ye already know it all, it’ll feel empty.”

Ghost laughs, shakes his head. He brings Soap’s hand up and kisses his knuckles so tenderly that Soap almost falls apart.

Maybe this is when and how they break and break around each other, when and how they allow themselves to put each other back together like puzzle pieces.

“Thinking ‘bout me long enough to wanna compliment me, Johnny?”

“Oh, come on,” he rolls his eyes, pokes Ghost’s cheek to earn the unamused stare he gets. “Don’t act stupid.”

“I’m not,” Ghost tilts his head. “Just wanna hear you say it.”

“Hm,” Soap hums, sighs, lets his head fall against Ghost’s shoulder.

Ghost allows him to stay resting there for a few seconds, but then he’s tugging at Soap’s wrist and placing a hand on the back of his head.

“What?” he asks, raises his brows at Ghost, delights in the little squeeze it gets him on the back of his head.

Ghost kisses his forehead. The cold metal of his piercings send a shiver down Soap’s spine. His mouth feels dry. They are so close, even closer than usual. Ghost has never given him more than a few of his fingers, and now it feels like he’s giving him his whole fucking body.

“What are ye doin’?” he asks in a low tone. He’s afraid that his words will be the ones ruining the moment.

“Gaining courage.”

“Courage?”

“To kiss you,” Soap’s breath stutters, he’s pretty sure he even gasps. He nods, feels Ghost’s lips press against his temple.

“Okay.” he allows him to take his time, because he also needs to take his own time. To take a step back and try to figure out how this happened. 

He supposes it was always coming.

Is being vulnerable a requirement for Ghost? He’ll be as goddamn vulnerable as the human body allows, if that’s the case. He’ll bare himself fully naked, mind and thoughts and body if he wants him to.

Ghost’s lips press against his eye, which automatically closes, and it feels like a kiss of devotion.

They press a kiss against his cheek, next, and Soap nuzzles into him. Feels Ghost’s smile against him.

Before Ghost has the courage to properly kiss him, Soap presses his hands against his chest. Feels his stuttering breath, the way his heart is speeding out of his chest. He places his mug down in some location that he’ll definitely forget about.

“Ghost,” he makes a face, almost like utter disgust, Soap smiles. “Simon.”

“What?”

“Can I kiss you?” he makes a face, this pouty thing that makes the rings of his snake bites jut out. Soap brings a hand up to his face, feels and watches him nuzzle his cheek against it.

And then he sighs, like he resigned himself to his fate, like his heart isn’t racing, like his ears aren’t blushing-red.

“Yes.” 

And Soap kisses him.

It’s this soft and tender thing, at first—the press of lips, the slight moving of mouths, the freezing of metal against warm skin, the smell of coffee on both of their breaths, the hands of devotion.

And it evolves into this needy, passionate thing, with Ghost pulling him into his lap, pulling them impossibly closer. Soap is pretty sure he bites Ghost’s piercings, tugs on them a little, and Ghost groans.

Ghost tastes like dreams and coffee and everything Soap has ever wanted, everything he has dreamed about for nights upon nights upon nights.

His hand on his hip, the other on his hair, his own on his chest and the side of Ghost’s throat, all keep him steady-unsteady, and he realizes he is slowly forgetting the ache beyond his eyes, the old scars in his mind.

If kissing Ghost can make him replace the unpleasant emotions, even if for just a moment, then he has all the more reason to indulge.

They part to breathe, and Ghost looks at him with this adoration in his eyes that makes Soap’s life feel like it’s restarting in all the right ways.

“Wanted to do that for a while now,” Ghost huffs against him and Soap hums at his words, smiles without any kind of fear.

“Me too. A long while,” he buries his head in the crook of Ghost’s neck, breathes him in like he has never breathed anything better before in his life, and tightens his hold around him, now with both arms around his torso.

“Can’t believe it took you having a mental breakdown to happen, though.”

“I make my best decisions when I’m not doing too well.”

“Don’t think that’s too healthy.”

“I’ll work it out in the therapy sessions I’m totally due, don’t worry.”

“As long as you keep kissing me, I won’t.” Soap answers by kissing his neck, buzzing in warmth at the soft sigh that passes through Ghost’s lips.

Ghost’s hands move to his hair, to his back, bury themselves in the places they belong, soothe Soap’s mind further and further.

“Do ye wanna know something?” he asks against his neck, and then pulls away from it, so he can look him in the eyes.

“What is it?” he tilts his head, speaks in this soft tone Soap will have to get used to, because it contrasts so much to his usual one.

“I think I love ye, Simon.”

“I know I love you, Johnny,” is his easy reply, the smile on his face, the squeeze of their bodies together.

There is a world in which Soap is loved, and he is in it, and he does not have to suffer alone. Not anymore.

There is love beyond the hurt. There are hands that will hold him kindly. There are sentences that can be spoken without words. There is love, right where he can reach it—and he reaches for it, embraces it with his whole body. The rest will figure itself out slowly and surely.

[commanderbuffy]

I’ve been trying to figure out how to say this since we found out Airk doesn’t know about Madmartigan, but I’m struggling to put my thoughts in order. I’m a little afraid you are going to take this as a critique, but I promise it’s not! I’m just having fun psychoanalyzing fictional situations. :)

I don’t see any difference between what Kit and Sorsha are doing to Airk in TTA and what everyone was doing to Kit in Armourium. I never really felt fully comfortable blaming people for keeping things from Kit in Armourium because they did it out of love. I especially didn’t like the idea that Kit never forgave Airk. He thought she might die, if he came clean! Was the outcome good? No. Were poor choices made on everyone’s part? Yes. The thing is, that they did this on the advice of professionals and all felt horrible and, deep down, knew it was a temporary fix.

In TTA, it seems genuinely cruel to keep this from Airk. This isn’t a life and death decision for his health, his dad (HIS DAD!) is alive and the people he loves most are keeping it from him. Keeping it from him as a child was probably not the best idea, but I fully understand it. But now, at 26, Airk deserves to know. Airk deserves to be angry. At his dad, obviously, but also at Sorsha and Kit. They kind of screwed him over. They need to sit down and apologize and explain everything from the beginning. This cat, literally, can’t stay in the bag. There’s no way this story is staying hidden until Airk’s death; the world doesn’t work that way. TTA Kit and Sorsha need to do better than the crew in Armourium, being willing to lose Airk in his anger for a while, with the hope that he will return. If they don’t, he will find out, and they might lose him forever.

To clarify: I know TTA is fiction, and it’s obviously not your responsibility to write this!! I’m just looking at this story and realizing that this is a problem with flawed, realistic, human characters, and I am imagining how things would need to go in the future after our girls get their HEA.

-Producer 3/Numbered Theories anon

hello! sorry it took a couple days for me to get to this ask. sometimes i put off answering asks that require me to think a good bit because I like to answer long ones from my computer vs. my phone, and sometimes the asks get buried as well (since I'm saving all the lovely playlist recommendation asks and they tend to bury asks some times)

I think the biggest distinction between Kit/Sorsha keeping Mads from Airk in TTA and everyone keeping secrets from Kit in Armouriam comes down to the secret that's being kept and how it relates to agency.

In Armouriam, the secrets being kept from Kit were Kit's life and history and truths about herself. Things that everyone in her life knew except her. Keeping the secrets kept Kit's agency away from her and the knowledge of decisions she herself had already made. With Airk in TTA, there's one secret and it's a decision someone else made (that of course impacts him).

Yes, there's overlap! Both involve keeping critical information from a family member that would inform their worldview and directly relates to them. And you raise a good point that in Armouriam, they thought keeping the secrets was necessary for Kit's health. And in Armouriam, I really leaned into that. It was messy and there wasn't a straightforward right answer. They weren't in the wrong for keeping the secrets even though it ended up being the wrong thing to do.

In TTA, Kit and Sorsha are hiding the secret from Airk to protect him. And you're right, that does take agency away from him. He should be allowed to know the truth. Sorsha's reasons for not telling Airk are both selfish and selfless. She doesn't want to cause Airk pain, but she also doesn't want him to hate her for A. not telling him sooner and B. not fighting harder for him to stay (which is not a reaction Airk would have, but a fear Sorsha has that that would be his reaction). On Kit's part, her reason for not telling Airk is more selfless. She knows her twin better than anyone in the world, and she knows how hurt he would be and how much he would blame himself for Kit's pain. So, she sees it as sparing him.

People are messy. I don't really think there is a right answer as to whether Kit should tell Airk or not. She was a child when she learned and it kinda fucked her up long term. She has really solid reasons not to tell Airk. They also have no reason to believe that there's any possibility Airk would find out without one of them telling him.

Airk is not going to learn the truth about Mads in TTA. Partially because it's not relevant to the arc of this story. That's not to say I might not explore that possibility in a one-shot though! You never know!

SORRY THIS WAS SUCH A LONG, RAMBLING RESPONSE.