#their enemy's still be other people my enemies are higher up in power than mere family or friends etc...but word strange shit for real lol

[enarei]

the levelling experience in retail WOW is so mind numbingly dull. like I understand that they have a complex problem in their hands and leaving it unchanged wouldn't work. I understand the game has literally two decades worth of content, and just forcing new players to go through all of it as close as it was on release would not only be extremely technically challenging to balance, but also an insurmountable task to anyone with a job. but their solution to it shows such an utter disregard for the very core of what makes MMORPGs fun, and all the work they put into previous expansions.

it's actually sad to me to go Outland and see that everything scales to my level. that the bonechewer orcs on the cliffs to Hellfire Ramparts are the same level as the ones that patrol the road proper. that the handcrafted experience of surmounting each tier of orc progressively through questing, until you are powerful enough to climb the Hellfire Ramparts and take on a dungeon with a group of friends, and so on for each new area of TBC, all that has been sacrificed in the name of "current content". all of it has been homogenized such that it doesn't matter which area you do first, which class of enemies you choose to pick fights with, what quests you prioritize with each new level, it's all rendered equally (un)challenging so that players can speed through all of it to get to current expansion without a care in the world. there's zero incentive to care about the world besides the promise that once you're close to the end of your levelling journey, it'll get really good.

people might say that's always been the case since expansions became a thing, once new gear comes out, the old world is irrelevant. and I don't have a reason to disagree, except that I'm still presented with meaningful choices when levelling in classic WOW. the level 65 quest rewards might not be remotely relevant to {current max level content} Ice Crown Citadel in that game, but just being in the overworld itself is fun because the journey feels authentic instead of merely being there as "legacy" content to fulfill the requirement of some levelling experience in an RPG.

it's quite ironic that in an attempt to 'free' the player of the burden of being forced to level through every expansion linearly, so they can Have Their Own Adventure, they completely ruined the sense of autonomy that encourages you to actually do that. you wanna do a really hard quest 6 levels higher than you so you can skip the boring gathering ones appropriate to your level? or maybe you'd rather go to this other place that is full of beasts that you can skin and ore you can mine, so you can train your professions at the same time. have a friend close by? try to do this insanely stupid escort quest and get suckered into world pvp for half an hour when the Alliance shows up to ruin your day. like you get this very organic interaction between game and social systems by virtue of level ranges providing irregular bumps to perceived difficulty and thus how seriously you need to engage with your class's mechanics, how efficiency you need to use your cooldowns to survive an encounter — you get to pick the difficulty, and it turns out it's incredibly fun to challenge yourself.

In retail that barely ever happens, because every single enemy you'll fight in the overworld will be scaled to the same level as you, its health and damage output will never allow them to be exceptionally trivial or meaningfully challenging, which means you barely have to change your tactics.

I know the carrot is real. I know the class design has considerably more depth and the gameplay has the potential to be much more fun just by virtue of dungeons actually having interesting mechanics when they never did in classic. But it baffles me how much of a slog they expect you to push through to get to it as a new player. I find it very hard to believe I'd have gotten into WOW if this was my first experience with it and I didn't have friends telling me how awesome Dragonflight is.

[tj-wrote-things]

𝐇𝐞 𝐖𝐡𝗼

Nikolai Lantsov x fem!Grisha!reader

Based off of this ask

A/N- Hey besties, this is kinda late,, and i hate it but only a little bit. Can you guys like -stop requesting arguments??? pls its breaking my heart.

Mega thanks to @itisroe e for being my editor and shoulder to whine on :)

*Id like to take a moment to say that Nikolai is a bit of a dick in this one, and id like to reiterate that its never okay to invalidate or insult a so. I dont condone that type of behavior, im just writing it

enjoy:)

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•

If there was one thing Nikolai Lantsov knew how to do, it was pout. You caught him— more than just a few times— slouched over on the blush red couch with his arms crossed, face smushed into a scowl as he studied you packing your bag.

You sighed, casting an increasingly irritated glance at him as you folded the coarse cloth of your winter coat and tucked it away with the rest of your belongings. The weight would be too much to bear, but you knew it would be cold up north where you were headed alongside Zoya and the Bataars. 

“I’m leaving at dawn, whether you like it or not, Sobachka.” 

The King looked away briefly at your words, hating understanding that you were right. He hauled himself out of his seat and redirected his sulking to the world outside the large window. It was beautifully blanketed in steadily falling snow. 

“Will you really make our last night together a bitter one?�� you commented.

“It wouldn’t be our last night if you’d just let me come with you,” Nikolai huffed. 

You exhaled, dreading that this would be the third time you had this discussion, which, in his world, was more so a debate.

The reason was simple: Nikolai had no business accompanying them. The objective of the mission to Fjerda was a peace treaty between the Drüskelle and the Grisha populous. As Nikolai fit neither category, it had been decided that he would stay back and continue to hold the country together.

“We’ve been through this: to bring more people on the expedition would only irritate the Fjerdans. Especially, the king of a country with which they’ve been at war for a considerable amount of time,” you reiterated. 

Nikolai shook his head again, unwilling to accept it. He refused to welcome the fact that the love of his long life would be away and in perpetual danger for weeks. 

The wind whistled as it bounded against the window, filling the room with a violent creaking.

“It’s dangerous, Y/N, why can you not understand—” 

You cut him off swiftly as his voice began to rise, “You watch that tone, Lantsov, or I’ll—” 

Now, it was Nikolai’s turn to cut you off: “You’ll what? Leave early?” The young man turned to you from the window and met your incredulous gaze. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. We both know it's your only vice.”

“My only vice,” you mocked cynically. “In what regard?” 

Nikolai spread his arms patronizingly as if he were explaining the obvious to his childhood self.

“Your heart craves adulation,” he said, pointing a sharp, accusatory finger your way. “You’ll take any opportunity to leave Os Alta— leave me— and flaunt your gifts.” 

Your heart thudded heavily in your chest. In anger or despair, you could not tell.

You would not lie to yourself. You knew with all your heart that, all things considered, your mastery of the Small Science was a blessing, hidden behind the mask of a devil. In the days you served faithfully in the Second Army, your gifts were revered and you were respected in the highest regard amongst your Grisha peers. However, in the years following the war, you became like everybody else. 

It was at the behest of your husband that you progressively began to use your power as an Inferni less as the days passed. Ever the political mastermind, he had approached you one summer evening and begged you refrain from using your power in public, claiming that the presence of a Grisha Queen was too much for his fragile country to bear. In the beginning, you had agreed, for if there was one thing that surpassed your love for your husband, it was your shared love for Ravka.

You knew that relations between the Grisha and the others were strained, and so you agreed, taking your husband's hand and promising to limit the displays of glowing orange flames which had burned your enemies as well as warmed the hands of your allies. 

It was becoming increasingly difficult to train behind a closed gate, under a roof, beneath the watchful eye of First Army guards armed with fire extinguishers. In fact, it had grown so stifling you had begun to resemble Alina Starkov when first she came to the Little Palace, with her pallor skin and brittle locks.

You brushed the aforementioned hair, now soft and healthy from the effects of tailoring, behind your ear as you placed the brush down and sharpened your stare at Nikolai’s face, shrouded in silver shadows from the icy light of the moon.

“Craves adulation,” you grumbled, knowing that if your voice rose any higher, it would betray every emotion storming around your heart. “Have a look in the mirror, Nikolai, and tell me which of us truly fits your description.”

His description, in all its insulting glory, fit Nikolai Lantsov to the tee.

Nikolai Lantsov, who would smile and wave to a crowd with a Sun Summoner on his arm, allowing you to watch with disdain from your place on a horse beside Mal. Nikolai Lantsov, who would hide behind a pair of gloves to escape the truth of what he had become. Nikolai Lantsov, who had pushed his wife into a state of sickness, albeit unknowingly, sacrificing her life’s blood for the sake of his country.

Nikolai Lantsov, who resolutely shook his head, running a hand through the already dishevelled hair on his head, before waving it dismissively, as if swatting a fly. “Please. You’d flick your hands for anyone who’d ask— if they clapped hard enough.” Nikolai moved for the bookshelf, drawing out a novel as if his words were mere small talk with an old friend.

Your anger blurred to shock. “Flick my hands—”

“Honestly, you take every opportunity to flaunt it. I’m surprised the Little Palace is still standing after having you inside for twenty years!” 

There was no sense to his vile declarations now. Though, Nikolai could not see it. The anger, betrayal, and frustration at being left behind were all that clouded his boyish mind as he hurled one unkind word after the other.

“Nikolai,” You moved towards him, arm outstretched, eyes beginning to water. “Lapushka, please—” As your hand approached his, the storm heavier than ever. He wrenched his arm away from you, leering his head back to look you in the eyes.

“Truly, I can’t be sure why you haven’t left already.”

“For saints’ sake, Nikolai. Look at me!”

The dam broke as you flicked your hands, removing the tailoring to your appearance, unveiling the truth of your restrictions.

Nikolai stared with an open mouth and hard eyes as the warm winter flush of your cheeks was replaced with dulled skin, and the sleek shine of your hair was redefined with a brittle and unkempt bush.

“The only person from whom I crave adulation,” you whispered, ��is the only man who’s too thick to look past a wavering mask.”

The Lantsov King swallowed, flipping the book restlessly in his hands. “Y/N—”

“Get out.” You left no room for him to argue, even when he opened his mouth once more. “I said leave!” You stalked to the door, pulling it open with a loud shriek of wood. “Now.”

Nikolai Lantsov, who spent the night in a guest room, in a state of perpetual regret.

No amount of tossing and turning brought any comfort to his aching heart, nor his pounding head. He flopped halfheartedly in the guest bed, stiff from lack of use, and from lack of you, revisiting the disgusting words he’d spat. The reason for them, however unjustified, sat heavily on his chest, suffocating him at an agonizing rate.

Nikolai Lantsov, who was afraid that— like his mother and father— you would grow to resent his blood, resent it for its stark difference to yours. The fear that you would  regret your marriage to what your people called an otkazat’sya: the abandoned.

The King figured it was only a matter of time before the title served him fully. 

It was reasonable, wasn’t it? To lash out at a time of vulnerability? Nikolai couldn’t be sure, having grown up in a family of despots who had never given him the time of day when it mattered most. 

Watching the tailored facade fall from his wife’s face, Nikolai was reminded solely of his mother, who, like you, was coerced into moulding her face into that of the perfect queen, at the behest of her husband. He knew then that all he had said and done was wrong. Wrong to her, and wrong to her people.

How could he bring himself to apologize? To walk into their bedroom and beg forgiveness? Would she forgive him? Even if he stooped— a king in tears and on his knees for the woman he loved perhaps more ardently than the country he vowed to govern— would she, in all her scorned glory, crouch beside him, take his face in her hands, and kiss away his regret?

Could he expect her to?

Dawn came around all too swiftly, rousing husband and wife from their fitful sleep in separate rooms, and with it came your departure to the northern lands.

You stood side-by-side with Nikolai as the carriages were loaded with provisions, luggage, and gifts for the Drüskelle, refusing to look at him. Instead, digging fruitlessly in your shoulder bag as an excuse to keep your head down.

The call came from the footman as the time arrived for you to leave. You didn’t make it more than one step forward with your hand gripping the leather strap of your bag before a firm grasp was on your waist.

“Wait,” whispered Nikolai, tugging you back. He cast a glance at the guard, letting him know that they would need a moment. “I can’t let you leave— not like this.” 

You held your gaze to the floor. Gently, he tilted your head back up with his thumb and forefinger. “Not now, not when you can barely look at me,” he continued. You held his stare as his hand shifted tentatively towards your jaw. “Not when I can’t be sure you won't come back to me, Milaya.”

You sniffled softly at the nickname, moving your own hand to his face and pausing to tuck away a loose golden curl.

“Please come back to me,” he said softly as if he were sharing a secret. There was an unspoken apology apparent in his reddening eyes while the seconds ticked by.

“Of course,” you murmured back, tipping his head down as you pecked his brow, then his cheek. “Nikolai, there’s not a thing in this world that could keep me away from you.”

You kissed him soundly, your hand running across the expanse of his jaw as he leaned into the tender forgiveness settled in your palm. When you broke apart, Nikolai took your hand from his face. He kissed your palm and walked you to your carriage. The King watched with concerned eyes as you took your seat.

Nikolai kissed your hand once more from his place on the ground and looked up at you. “Swear you’ll write,” he said. “Or I’ll crash the proceedings.”

You barked a hearty laugh, squeezing his hand as he tried to let you go. “I will,” you promised. “And I’ll see you when I come back.”

It was another moment before you let go of his hand. His palm hit the carriage door bearing the Lantsov crest. You watched as the carriage travelled further and further away, Nikolai’s frame disappearing into the horizon. 

“I promise,” you whispered.

•

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•

[popopretty]

Storm Bringer Spoiler (7)

I am not sure if anyone has translated it yet but many people asked me about the relationship between Verlaine and Rimbaud so I hope these excerpts from Rimbaud’s memoirs will help. These are from two different parts of CODE;04 of the novel.

Please feel free to re-translate it if you want. Just understand that I do make mistakes because I don’t speak either Japanese or English as my first language. So sometimes I will change or update this translation without prior notices. 

Day xx

General Directorate for Special Services, Operations Department, Special Forces Group, Agent

Fine weather - Evening - Waning Moon

The mice are running, black in the gray of the evening.

A mouse lady is running, gray in the black of the darkness. 

I look at the moon, holding the pipe in my mouth. Doing nothing can be fun too. Let’s go when the fire from the pipe goes out. 

After I run, behind the dry sound of my shoes, there will be nothing but death and corpses and blood and aguish and misery.

Day xx

General Directorate for Special Services, Operations Department, Special Forces Group, Agent

Rainy day - Midnight - Waning Moon

I am writing this after crawling out of the rat hole. I am staying at a leaky inn. There is the sound of the rain leaking somewhere. The lamp on my bedside is too dark I can’t even see the bottle of wine on my desk clearly. This handwriting definitely looks bad too. But for the time being, it doesn’t matter. 

Because I want to write down what happened right away.

Until just two hours ago, I was in the secret cellar of the anti-government forced called “May of the Revolution”. It is all over. The outcomes are superb. In the eyes of the higher-ups. 

But for me, I can’t bring myself to think that the operation was a success.

When I stepped in, all the members were at the celler. And ultimately, “he” is dead.

I wrote “he” here because this organization only has one single member. 

The mastermind behind the anti-government movement is a skill user commonly known as “Faunus” (*TN: The original Japanese words is 牧神, which means the God of Shepherds. He is called Faunus in Roman mythology and Pan in Greek mythology. I just picked Faunus because I like the name). I fought him once. He was strong. On top of that, he has a secret weapon. He by himself has created a skilled artificial lifeform, the “Black No.12”. That’s a monster that can manipulate gravity at his will and nullify any physical attacks. “Faunus” used an instruction system to freely control that lifeform. 

But this time, our Intelligence Department has done an amazing job (how nice it would be if they could do that every time). They managed to figure out in advanced that the input of the instruction system could be done by letting the lifeform breathe in some kind of special metal powder. That’s why all I had to do was to destroy that metal powder generator.

Freed from the instructional system, “Black No.12″ regained his consciousness as though he had just been released from brainwashing and turned to attack his creator, “Faunus”. That was a chilling sight. With just a squeeze of “Black No.12″ ‘s palm, half of the facility was blown away, together with Faunus’ upper body.

After that, I carried the unconscious “Black No.12″ outside. Now he is sleeping in this cheap inn.

What will happen to him now? Will he be executed by the government?

It’s terribly cold. The fire from the fireplace feels so far away.

Day xx

General Directorate for Special Services, Operations Department, Special Forces Group, Agent

Bright day - Noon - Strong wind from the East

I am writing this wearing a thick coat, earmuffs, fur gloves and thermal underclothes.

I was talking to the liaison officer in the café earlier, and was told about “Black No. 12″ ‘s treatment. It was so unexpected that I had to ask again three times.

The government seems to consider “Black No. 12″  a valuable collaborator. Because as “Faunus” ‘s watchdog, the information about the anti-government network has been hammered into his head. We will train him, and make him a spy. And it seems that the education and supervision tasks have been left to me. 

Education? Me?

Can I really do such a thing?

I don’t have any connections with others because of this job. Because friends and families can become a spy’s weaknesses. Both my parents and my former lover thought that I had died in jail.

Can someone like me teach someone and guide them the way?

I don’t know. But what if I can?

Someone like me, who had thrown away his past and his name to be called by merely a code name, now can do something for someone else, for my country, and for my newly-born friend. The thought of that made me more excited than I could imagine.

My life, and my death probably won’t be passed on to the future generations. What will be given to me after my death will be nothing but a broken, nameless tombstone. But I am okay with that. As long as before I die, I can leave behind something for someone.

My first task is to give “Black No.12″ a new code name.

I have decided it already. Paul Verlaine.

The real name that my parents gave me long ago.

Paul. One day you will read this memoir and know the secret about yourself. I pray that that moment will be a time of blessing for you.

Day xx

General Directorate for Special Services, Operations Department, Special Forces Group, Agent

Cloudy sky - Midnight - Can’t see the moon

I can’t believe it. We have successfully deciphered the “Secret of the Gentle Forest”. The worst beast of all is sleeping there. That’s where Verlaine’s

(The page was torn from here, unreadable)

....

Day xx

General Directorate for Special Services, Operations Department, Special Forces Group, Agent

Fine weather - Before dawn - New moon

It’s the day before my infiltration mission into a military base of an enemy country, so I am leaving a slightly longer record today. There will be no support for that mission. No rear backup either. No collaborator from inside.

The target to be captured is a new type of skilled weapon. It takes the shape of a little boy, but is actually a disaster that has the power to destroy the world.

It’s a dangerous mission. I might not make it out alive.

But if there is anyone who can successfully carry out this mission to take the world’s disaster from the hand of the enemy country, it can’t be anyone other than me and my partner, Paul Verlaine.

I have been thinking about it for a long time. About what I can do for my reliable partner Verlaine. I couldn’t come up with an answer until yesterday.

I will celebrate his birthday.

Of course, he doesn’t have an exact birthday. But I considered yesterday his birthday. On the same day four years ago, Verlaine killed Faunus and gained his freedom.

I ordered a small pudding from a confectioner in Paris and headed to Verlaine’s hideout with a bottle of wine under my arm. Verlaine looked more doubtful than surprised. So I explained to him.

Celebrating one’s birthday implies a very simple fact. In other words, it carries the message that “the fact that you were born is worth celebrating”. No matter what anyone says, your birth has a value.

And then there is one thing that can’t be missed when celebrating a birthday. A birthday without it is like the night sky without the moon.

A birthday present.

What I gave him was a black hat.

A brimmed bowler hat. It is neither particularly expensive, nor something made by a famous hatter.

However, the cloth of the sweat-absorbing band that goes around the inside of the hat was made of a very special material.

A rainbow-colored metal made from 10% platinum, 10% titan, and gold as the central material of the rest. It carries “Faunus” ‘s skill.  It was the thing that was almost completed in his lab, but I modified it into the shape of a hat.

When you put your head inside, the cloth of the hat will serve as a coil, and  prevent the external instruction system from interfering with the mind. On the other hand, the instruction system can be controlled from the inside, or in other words, the will of the one who wears this hat.

If Verlaine has this black hat, he will be one step closer to becoming a “human with free will”.

His reaction was pretty strange. He was neither happy nor surprised. He just said “I will take it for now.” with his calm eyes. He didn’t say anything after that. We drank the wine, said good night to each other then parted.

Even now, after one day has passed, I still don’t know if that was the right thing to do. Verlaine’s eyes were freezing and as far as beyond the North Pole.

But we will know the answer soon.

Tomorrow, at the enemy’s base.

If it is for the sake of my partner, I will gladly conquer any hell.

As long as I have my God in the sky above, the bonds in my heart, and the future in my reach.

(This is the last sentence of the memoir. Nothing was written after this.)

....

[amesstm]

You Should’ve Come to Shiratorizawa

Pairing: Oikawa x Reader

Word Count: idk because I’m too lazy to check Word. So maybe 2K?

Summary: after losing his chance at going to nationals in his second-year, Oikawa sees a different reason why he should’ve gone to Shiratorizawa.

Warnings: nothing but fluff

A/N: inspired by ushijima’s favorite phrase lol

⊱ ━━━━━━━━.⋅ εïз ⋅.━━━━━━━━⊰

This was Oikawa’s moment. It was his second-year and he must make it to nationals. No - he would make it to nationals. He absolutely had to, otherwise he wouldn’t be able to live with himself. All the days, hours, minutes, and pure seconds he dedicated to this match would mean something. Iwaizumi had to stop the determined setter from training himself to the point of breaking. Yet, it would all be worth it in this match.

Oikawa remembers the monster Ushijima Wakatoshi, and how that monster looked down on him in his last year of junior high. The mere memory of inferiority made him grind his teeth and furrow his eyebrows with his arms crossed. Even when they had a practice match together, Shiratorizawa still won. And that same condescending expression still haunted him.

“You’re going to break your teeth.”

Oikawa turned around, knowing that it would be Iwaizumi anyways. He plastered his classic, fake smile onto his face. In a sing-song voice, he replied, “Iwa-chan! You do care!”

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes and smacked him on the back of the head. “Just don’t get yourself out of the game before it even starts.”

Not wanting to hear another lecture, Oikawa nodded and returned to glaring at the doors that had yet to open.

~

On the other side, the predicted-champions were stretching. Ushijima laid out on the floor, stretching out his lower back. Usually, Tendo would’ve joined him but he decided to try to progress his gymnastics career. Did you understand what position he was in with his head in between his legs that grew closer and closer to the floor? No. But did you know that was something Tendo would do? Yep.

“‘Tori, you need to win the match so I can win a bet,” you said, with an imaginary halo hovering over your head. You even tilted your head to meet his eyes as he peered at you from upside down.

Being Shiratorizawa’s manager meant that you had an insight into their training; so, you knew you’d be eating well tonight. The comment wasn’t filled with any tone of concern. After all, this was Shiratorizawa.

“Nani?” Your redheaded friend asked, raising his head to look at you. Tendo’s wide eyes stared at you and into you, serious as Ushijima. Then he burst into his warm persona with a chocolate-sweet smile, “You put a bet on us to win? That’s so sweet!”

“Of course, I did! You guys always win,” you replied like it was a fact. As of this moment, Shiratorizawa hasn’t lost a match this season. You were absolutely sure that they would beat Aoba Seijoh, too. They’ve done it before and it will happen again.

Finally, the doors opened.

The blue and white colors greeted you from across the court. Banners hoping to garner the attention of Oikawa Tooru, the pretty boy setter of their team, were waved around proudly and erratically. Girlish screams echoed through the gym as their team entered.

“They’re very loud,” Wakatoshi muttered under his breath. He glowered at the opposing cheer section, probably putting some people in the hospital from mere shock.

“That’s because they have a pretty boy to cheer for,” Tendo said, lightening the mood as Wakatoshi grew more and more annoyed at the noise.

Oikawa’s reputation for being ‘perfect’ was well-known, mostly amongst the girls. Clearly, the girls in the gym believed in that wholeheartedly. To you, it was annoying. After all, no one was perfect. It was even more annoying dealing with that personality in person. During the practice match, his ego took up half of the gym. Hopefully, he’d be humbled today.

“Didn’t you want Oikawa to come to Shiratorizawa?” You asked despite knowing the answer. Admittedly, you just loved seeing how riled up Wakatoshi got about the ordeal. It was one of the few times the statue showed emotion.

“He’s an amazing setter and would’ve performed to his highest level had he come to our team,” the ace explained without skipping a beat. His eagle eyes focused on the brunette from across the floor, poking holes in him. It seemed that the setter felt the intense stare, because he returned it before turning away with a reddened face immediately.

~

“They’re so loud already,” Iwaizumi complained as soon as they entered the gym. He tried his best to mask his distaste for the cheers, but the outrageous screams for Oikawa made it difficult. “Can you tell them to be quiet?”

“Of course not! They’re my fans and I love them,” Oikawa replied with his cutest smile as he waved to everyone. Squeals of excitement greeted him back, making him grin all the more from the attention to his ego.

“I think I see another fan,” Matsukawa teased, subtly pointing across the gym.

Oikawa’s eyes followed his finger and saw his worst nightmare. Shiratorizawa’s prized possession, Ushijima Wakatoshi, was staring holes into his very being. Oikawa shivered with fear, until his eyes narrowed in on the girl beside him.

Wow, she’s really pretty. Wait – I can’t hit on the enemy!

Turning red, he shifted away from the opposing team. Hanamaki quirked an eyebrow, “Finally realize your attraction towards Ushiwaka?”

Oikawa shivered with disgust, “I’m not attracted to him!”

“Oh?” Matsukawa cheekily smiled. He turned to Hanamaki, continuing, “I bet that he’s hitting on the manager.”

The setter’s ears perked up, “That’s their manager?”

“If you actually looked at your surroundings, you would’ve realized this sooner,” Iwaizumi stated with disappointment. He added, “She was at our practice match, too, Shittykawa.”

Choosing to ignore the obvious slander, Oikawa pouted and sighed, “Too bad she’s with the enemy.”

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes, “Only you could care about that type of thing.”

“Get your head in the game,” the captain barked at the second-years, clearly annoyed that they were just goofing off instead of warming up.

“We’ll win,” Oikawa said before stretching. “We need to.”

~

As expected, Shiratorizawa won with flying colors, led by the genius that was Ushijima Wakatoshi. The match point started with a serve from Oikawa and ended with a powerful spike from Ushijima.

Across from the gym, you saw the setter crumble to the ground. Even with the distance, you could hear Oikawa’s heartfelt apologizes that he couldn’t land an ace service. Some tears were wiped away hastily with shame. Not even the reassurances from his fans stopped the waterfall.

Surprisingly, the pretty boy was an ugly cryer. Seeing him in this imperfect state made you not want to look away. Was all that ego just a show to hide his insecurities?

“Don’t feel bad for him,” Ushijima said, drawing you out of your haze. If anyone who didn’t know him overheard what he said, he would’ve sounded like a cold hearted victor without any humility. But you knew him and his meaning. “He should’ve come to Shiratorizawa.”

You sighed but still smiled. “I knew you’d say that.” Then, upon further inspection with your nose, you cringed, “Come on, you need to shower.”

After Coach Tanji gave his victory speech, the boys were dismissed to the locker room. As usual, you were left outside of the restrooms to wait. Fangirls whimpered over Oikawa’s melancholy state and even dared to suggest that Shiratorizawa tipped off the referee.

“If you think we needed bribes to win, then you know nothing about volleyball,” you defended your team, glaring at them like an eagle ready to snatch their prey. After watching these boys practice and endure yelling from their coach for hours on end, no mere suggestion of cheating or bribery would be tolerated.

As the girls opened their mouths to snap back at you, a different voice flew through the air. One that was noticeably deeper than these whiny pigeons. “As much as I hate to admit it, Shiratorizawa won fair and square.”

Of course, that voice belonged to Oikawa. You’ve heard his voice before. Most of the time, it would be higher pitched, flirtatious, and vibrant. Now, it was deeper, more serious, and grey.

“Thank you,” you muttered before being overrun by his fangirls who rushed to console him. You rolled your eyes. Reminding him of his loss wouldn’t make him feel better at all.

Yet, Oikawa perked up to the attention like a sunflower reaching for light. The usual tone of voice returned and his classic smile rose to his face. But when they were gone, the show drew to a close. The setter’s gaze turned to you. Something about it was sad and longing. He just couldn’t accept the fact, that along with this match’s victory, Ushijima had you, too.

“Oikawa,” a voice behind you rumbled. You turned to see a freshly showered Wakatoshi, who smelled infinitely better now. “You should’ve come to Shiratorizawa.”

The victim of this constant reminder grimaced and sighed from dejection. “Not this again.”

“You know that I’m right.”

“I could never go there with you, my enemy,” Oikawa spat and crossed his arms.

Should you be here? Probably not since it felt like a lovers’ quarrel but hey, free entertainment. You closed your eyes and leaned back on the bench, blocking out their voices. It was quite easy since you couldn’t rest well from the anxiety of the results for nationals these past few weeks.

Soon, you opened your eyes to find Ushijima gone and Oikawa staring at you. “Why did you go to Shiratorizawa?”

In reality, it was because you didn’t want to leave Tendo alone. Instead, you shrugged, “Good academics.”

“… so why are you with Ushijima?” Oikawa asked, ready to scrutinize your reason. A part of him wanted to know if you were actually single. Another part wondered how anyone could tolerate his presence.

Although you tried to hold yourself back, laughter poured from you. You tried to calm yourself down, but the idea of dating a literal statue with no social awareness - no matter how handsome - made you laugh once more.

Students from Shiratorizawa had a reputation of being stern - unless you were Tendo, of course. In fact, most Shiratorizawa students that Oikawa had the displeasure of meeting seemed that way. So, seeing someone loosely enjoying themselves brought you even closer to Oikawa’s type. Your laughter made him want to laugh, even if he didn’t know why you were laughing.

“I couldn’t date Ushijima,” you explained. “We don’t have the same sense of humor.”

Oikawa shifted to his side, slightly with relief. Subconsciously, he started preening himself. “I don’t think Ushijima can be funny.”

“No, no. He can be funny, but it’s mostly by accident,” you elaborated with a chuckle.

“I like your laugh,” Oikawa declared. You weren’t sure if it was a compliment, since it sounded more like he was telling himself of that fact.

You quirked an eyebrow, “You’re even weirder than I thought.”

“Hey, my team already bullies me enough!” Oikawa whined. Despite his little facade of being sad, he still couldn’t hold back his smile.

You giggled, “They bully you?”

“Over everything!” Oikawa stated with a show of his arms in defeat.

“I wouldn’t bully you,” you proclaimed with sincerity.

“You really are an angel,” Oikawa complimented with awe. “I wish you went to Aoba Josai.”

“Awh, really?” You asked with a tilt of your head. Oikawa nodded. Smirking, you chuckled, “Then, you should’ve come to Shiratorizawa.”

⊱ ━━━━━━━━.⋅ εïз ⋅.━━━━━━━━⊰

[poppysmc]

I Don't Know How You Do It But I'm Forever Ruined

Notes: This has been sitting in my drafts for so so long, unfinished with a different song and Im just obsessed with this song right now so I thought I'd go ahead and post it.. sorry for the mistakes I don't have a beta so they're all mine. I'm just slowly getting back to writing again, please be patient with me. ❤️

Song: Off my face - Justin Bieber

(One shot)

Last and certainly not the least…. Ms. Morgan Hughes, she’ll be gracing us with her angelic voice, singing… uhh… Off my face? Thomas reads the cue cards, slightly puzzled, he thought Morgan would be doing stand-up, he and Morgan’s posse endured long nights of practicing her stand-up routine and now she’s just gonna sing, it’s not even vetted on.

He glances to the side, silently confirming if it was right. Morgan nods and smiles nervously. He in turn smiles back, giving an encouraging thumbs up and a whisper of ‘good luck’ as she takes to the stage.

Some of the audience chuckled at the name choice, adding to the ever growing lump lodged in her throat. This is definitely not her best idea and before she could go ranting about the title, some of her friends clapped and cheered, giving her a slight boost of confidence.

She wrote thet a few months ago, absently plucking at the guitar strings. She’s got the same few chords stuck in her head for week. Only god knows how she pulled the lyrics out of her muddled brain.

How does one go about sharing her feelings for someone who has no idea? Said someone sitting front and center with a scowl, sitting next to her parents. She has no idea she wrote it for her, she sighs in relief.

For a split second she could see Poppy’s attention snap up to her, smirking and raising her eyebrow in question. Morgan rolls her eyes at her and settled into her chair and just like Poppy’s face never moved, her scowl was back in place, listening to Chloe rant about her talent to her right.

She starts plucking out the intro, it’s now or never.

One touch and you got me stoned

Higher than I’ve ever known

You call the shots and I’ll follow

Sunrise but the night’s still young

No words but we’re speaking tongues

If you let me I might say too much

Sometimes people just enter your life and burrow themselves so deep into it that for the life of you, you couldn't remember when it all started. This case was different, Morgan could vividly remember a day it all changed, how it became harder for her to even look Poppy in the eye for more than a few seconds. How her warm touch roughly pulling her back to the argument now seemed to burn through her sleeves, pressure slightly softer. She used to meet her hot gaze, faces only inches apart spitting out vicious insults without thinking much, now she didn’t have the same fire in her veins she seemed to have arguing with Poppy.

The need to antagonize her fizzled into something else, a warmth that threatens to overtake her made itself a home in her chest.

---------------

Morgan wanted to stay home, as much as she enjoyed parties, it wasn’t something she wanted to do regularly. Sometimes it gets a little too much to handle, the music felt too loud, the people got too close, the eyes on her felt stifling. She wanted to be free just this one night out of expectant looks but Zoey is too convincing, her puppy dog eyes are too powerful for a mere mortal like herself. She made a condition to just be at the party no over the top expensive clothes, just herself.

“I’ll come but just to be your glorified chauffer.” She dresses herself in something simple, a pair of black pants and flannel. “I just want to be invisible this one night, Zo.”

“Fine by me, but if your fashion choices end up splashed all over The T tomorrow don’t come crying to me.” Zoey shakes her head, the slight dig on her wardrobe is softened by a thankful grin.

“You get dragged on The T once, and no one lets you live it down.”

“Because I’m pretty certain I said don’t go out in that, it’s suicide. So yeah I would never let it go, you wore socks with your flip-flops and had the audacity to show yourself in public.”

“It’s not even my fault, sunny ran out the door. I had no time to check what I was wearing."

“You’ll never learn. Whatever will you do without me?” Zoey smirks and shakes her head affectionately. "Stop stalling and let’s go. My carriage awaits dear chauffer.”

“Yeah, yeah. Please allow me to escort you down, boss.” Morgan bumps her shoulders with Zoey as she passes by to grab her jacket. She opens the door and offers her arm, Zoey laughs and loops her arms around hers.

The party was already in full swing once they arrived. The music was blaring; the bass makes Morgan’s chest thump along erratically with every beat. “Text me, okay? I’ll make myself scarce.”

“Sure. Thanks for driving.” Zoey winks and beelines for the bar. In a few seconds she loses sight of her.

Morgan trudges through the house, the crowd gradually thins as she makes her way farther to the back. She exhales in relief finally free of the maze of drunk students with no boundaries, nobody seemed to pay attention to her, thank god for the dim lighting. The backdoor swings open, she breathes in the crisp night air. The door shuts and party fades into muffled thumps. She sat on the porch steps, her side leaning against the banister, oblivious to the pair of eyes quietly observing her.

After a minute of silence, Morgan sucked air through her clenched teeth, surprised at hearing someone pointedly clearing their throat behind her. The rate in which her head whipped back almost made her dizzy. When she recognizes who the person was, she could already feel the headache coming through, she almost swallows her tongue in disbelief. Of all the people she didn’t want to see her tonight was Poppy, yet here she was, alone with her.

“What are you doing back here?” Poppy asked, voice devoid of any venom just genuinely curious.

“Do I need permission to be? Who made you queen?” Morgan scoffs, the slight bite in her voice comes through and makes Poppy smirk.

“Belvoire.” Poppy cheekily answers, earning an undignified snort from Morgan. The slight tension momentarily forgotten.

“Should have seen that coming.”

“The party’s raging inside and little miss newbie sits here. What are you doing, really?” Poppy asks not unkindly, voice tinged with concern and curiosity.

“I could ask the same to you.”

“I asked first.” Poppy frowns impatiently.

Morgan sighs, opting to just answer just to avoid trouble. She didn’t have the energy to make up excuses nor to argue. “I don’t feel like partying today. I’m just waiting for Zoey to get flat out drunk and drive her home. My turn.”

“It’s-  It’s overwhelming inside. I just want to be alone for a while.” The honesty in Poppy’s answer momentarily throws her off.

“Do you want me to go?” Morgan asks, feeling like she’s intruding. This must be the longest record they ever had being civil to one another, actually speaking without the sarcastic comments and the insults. It makes her feel out of place and awkward.

“You could do whatever you want. I’m not the queen of anything right now.” Right, cause technically it's Chloe. There’s something in her tone that makes Morgan’s heart clench, yet she shrugs it off as the bass from the party. To Morgan’s never ending surprise, the blonde pats the spot next to her on the bench. “The floor is filthy.” Poppy clarifies when she makes no move to stand. A disarming smile crosses her face, Morgan guessed her hesitation must have been showing.

Morgan stands and dusts herself off. “Who are you and what have you done to Poppy?” She asks with a grateful smile, sitting down the furthest she could from the other girl.

“I have half the mind to kick you off this bench.” Poppy grumbles.

“There she is.”

Poppy huffs out a half laugh and after that there’s just silence. After a while she could see the slight tremble in Poppy’s hand in her periphery. She wordlessly shrugs off the coat she’s wearing and offers it to the other girl.

“What?” Poppy blinks, eying her coat suspiciously, making Morgan chuckle in disbelief.

“You’re cold. Take it or go inside.”

“Fine.” Poppy slips on the offered garment, appreciating the warmth it gave to her cold limbs. She wasn’t thinking while she burrowed herself further, letting Morgan’s scent envelope her. She stared at Morgan, feeling guilty for a moment. She moves closer, Morgan shivers when their shoulders touched. "Thanks." Poppy whispers, if it wasn't for their proximity, Morgan might have missed it. She hoped the shadows hid the small smile spreading to her lips.

“I’m sorry for taking your coat. I just couldn’t go back inside. I-” Poppy trails off, breaking her gaze away and staring farther up the yard.

“It’s okay, I offered. You don’t have to explain anything.” Morgan understood, after today everything changed, she lost her spot to one of her friends. Morgan was somewhat surprised that instead of Poppy's explosive anger, she opted to just sit here and mope.

She jumps a little when her phone vibrates in her pocket, she could see Poppy smirk in the corner of her eye.

"Jumpy."

She reads the text and taps a reply, frowning. She turns to Poppy. She doesn't even know why she's explaining but it felt wrong to just go without saying anything. A part of her wanted to make this moment stretch a little longer, so she hesitates.

“Apparently Zoey doesn’t need me to drive her back. So... I guess I'll head back home." Morgan stands not having an excuse to stay longer and makes her way to the door, hands hovering over the door knob to open it but not before doing something stupid like asking her so called enemy if she wanted to drive around for a while.

“So… Do you still want company? We could drive around for a while?” Morgan mentally chastises herself for the suggestion. Of course Poppy would say no it’s not like she-

Morgan looks back at Poppy, she sees her worrying her bottom lip between her teeth in thought. Morgan’s gaze flickers down to her lips, wondering if they’re as soft as they looked. The moment passed and she breaks her gaze away just as Poppy decided.

“Sure but let me just get my stuff.” Poppy stands and makes her way to the door, Morgan standing motionless, hand over the handle. She reaches for it, her fingertips grazing Morgan’s, the slight static made her pull her hand away abruptly.

“Sorry.” Morgan breaks through her short circuited brain and moves to hold the door open for Poppy.  “I’ll wait for you out front.” Morgan makes her way back through the crowd, her mind reeling at what happened back there and what mess she got herself into.

---------------

She continued singing, her eyes accidentally meeting Poppy’s gaze again, her scowl was replaced by an unreadable expression, attention now focused solely on her and Morgan almost faltered. She breaks eye contact and stares at the back wall, ignoring the burning gaze upon her from those familiar eyes.

Your touch blurred my vision

It’s your world and I’m just in it

Even sober I’m not thinking straight

Cause I’m off my face in love with you

I’m out my head so into you

And I don’t know how you do it

But I’m forever ruined by you

-----------------------

The sound of the door opening breaks Morgan out of her deep thoughts. She could see Poppy walking towards her with a sour expression, she's still wearing Morgan's coat.

“What happened to you?” Morgan’s warm hands reaching out to her, settling comfortably on her shoulder. Poppy stares at her hands, she pulls it away like she’s been burned.

“Just drive.” Poppy mumbles, trying hard to be composed but failing.

“Where to?” Morgan pretends not to notice Poppy's agitation, barely glancing at her so she won't feel uncomfortable. She unlocks her car slipping inside while Poppy stares at the abomination in front of her.

“I don’t want to sound ungrateful but your truck is… I don’t know how to say it without offending you? But maybe it could use a good wash? Like you drove through mud to get here. I don’t know, maybe we could go to a carwash, my treat.”

"That’s about the rudest thing anyone’s ever said to me, and you said a lot of insulting things before." Morgan rolls her eyes. “She doesn’t mean that Betty, you just got a little mud on you.” She murmurs quietly.

“You named your car… Betty?”

“What? No I didn’t.” Morgan could see Poppy’s amused smirk even in her periphery.

“You’re such a dork.” Poppy can’t help but laugh at her mortified expression.

Morgan distracts herself from the rapidly rising heat on her neck by fiddling with the radio before driving off. The sweet sound of the guitar filtered through the car and she smiles triumphantly, previous embarrassment pushed to the back of her mind. She doesn't notice Poppy's expression soften.

Morgan drives her car through the carwash. They watched the water and the soap assault her car, the material of the brushes made a repetitive sound along with one of her favourite songs. Poppy had her seat leaned back, watching the machine rid the car of dust and mud. There was something mildly intimate about it, Morgan could move her right hand then they would be grazing Poppy’s, she could do it, she wanted to do it. But all she could manage was a slight twitch in her pinky, her hand doesn't move any closer.

“Do you ever feel like there’s a hundred people around you in a room, yet you feel alone?” Poppy breaks the silence, tilting her head slightly to the left to look at Morgan.

“Sometimes, yeah. Sometimes people may be looking at you yet feel as if their staring right through you, like your nothing. Oh! Like a ghost.” This makes Poppy chuckle.

“Yeah like that. It would have been easier if we were ghosts at least then you know why.”

“Did you feel like that back at the party?” Morgan wanted to say how that would have been impossible that no one could have seen her, she’s seeing her now. She wondered how could anyone ever take their eyes of her, she always seemed to be the brightest thing in any room she entered and now even in this dingy carwash she looked so radiant. How sometimes she thinks that she picks fights with her just for a chance to be bathed in her light. Thoughts she doesn't think would ever cross her mind trickled slowly and became a raging river. Now that she found herself here with her, without anything familiar to fall back on, anything just to distract herself out of her dangerous thoughts.

“Yeah, I don’t know. It was easier to be alone than surrounded but feeling alone. Do you get it? At least I know, I chose to be alone.”

“I get it.” If she had the ability to say more she would have but these few pathetic words are all she could manage. This time her hand reaches to squeeze Poppy’s. A quiet comfort to reinforce her words, she understood.

“Thank you.”

Whatever atmosphere they created in that moment fell apart when Morgan had to move her car forward and exited the wash.

“Where to now?”

“Your turn to choose.” Poppy mumbles, still staring blankly outside.

“Okay, I know a place. You're gonna love it."

“I’m not going to let you pick anymore.” Poppy complains, standing in front a fluorescent lit diner. It almost glowed but in a weird way, like a bat signal for the weary.

“Hey! They make the best food.” Morgan steps forward and drags her companion along when she hesitated.

Warmth and the ambient sound of cutlery grazing the plates makes Morgan smile. She always came here when she’s feeling lonely, missing her parents, their farm or when she’s stressed from school, for trying to fit in like a robot.

“Come. Don’t just stand there.” Morgan looks back at Poppy, her breath caught in her throat. Poppy looked ethereal against the most basic place there ever is. If you said diners were some kind of portal to somewhere else she’d accept it and move on, for she looked like she existed out of place, alien, untouchable as she was beautiful. For the second time this day her gaze flickers to Poppy’s lips, she realizes that she’s saying something and Morgan’s mortified of being caught staring like a fool.

“What? Is something on my face?” Poppy is thankfully oblivious.

“No, it’s perfect.” Morgan quietly whispers while Poppy checks herself in the diner’s window, her words falling into deaf ears.

Morgan balls up pieces of her straw paper places it over some torn up tissues, stacked together. She’s fidgeting under Poppy’s presence; she doesn’t know what to do with her hands.

She's startled when Poppy lightly grasps her hands stopping it from tearing up another piece of paper. It’s been minutes of watching Morgan tear up even rectangles of several tissues, a girl could only take so much.

“You’re making a mess.” Poppy chastises her like a child. She would have laughed but Poppy still hasn’t let go of her hand, it’s making her blush like an idiot.

“Sorry. It’s just that the food is taking a while huh?” Morgan stealthily tries to take her hand back but Poppy only holds it tighter. When they're not arguing, Morgan found that she doesn't know how else to act around her.

“Stop tearing paper like confetti.”

“Sorry.” Morgan sheepishly apologizes and Poppy lets go of her hand, hiding hers under the table, flexing it, she could still feel the warmth of her hand in hers.

The food arrives and Morgan smiles widely. Poppy stares, pretending she's interested in what food Morgan ordered. She admits to herself that for all the times she stared at her she never noticed how beautiful Morgan’s smile was. Arguing doesn't leave one space to insert a smile. It made her heart skip, imagining how it would be like if it was directed at her.

She almost misses Morgan stealing a fry off her plate. “Hey! If you wanted some you should have bought your own or at least politely asked.” Poppy mock glares at her companion, taking one of the crumpled balls and flicking it, hitting Morgan right between the eyes. They watched as the paper landed right into Morgan’s half empty milkshake glass.

"Your face!" Poppy laughs, wishing she could have captured it on camera.

Morgan found that she liked Poppy's laugh when it was genuine. “You better buy me another. You ruined mine.”

“What? It’s almost all gone anyway. All the needless calories you’re consuming will bite you in the ass someday.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

“Just have the rest of mine.” Poppy slides over her milkshake, Morgan grins and takes a sip right into Poppy’s straw. Poppy noticed first, eyes widening. Did She just… A revolting question crossed her mind, how would ‘Morgan’s lips feel like pressed to mine.’ Shes never felt jealous of a piece of plastic before in her life.

Morgan freezes when she realized what she’s done. She just had an indirect kiss with Poppy through the straw. “Sorry. I got excited.”

Poppy opens a new straw for her water, blowing the other end right into Morgans face, another bulls eye, she’s killing it. “Don’t overthink it.” She dismisses the act but her brain does summersaults inside her skull.

They finished eating, the last few of Poppy’s fries stolen right under her nose. She pretends she doesn’t see her sneaking a few of the fries away, she just lets her. Mind preoccupied with important things like Morgan’s lips.

------------------

Can’t sleep ‘cause I’m way too buzzed

Too late now you’re in my blood

I don’t hate the way you keep me up

Your touch blurred my vision

It’s your world and I’m just in it

Even sober I’m not thinking straight

Even if she doesn't look or at least tries her hardest not to, she could feel Poppy's gaze on her, burning, willing her eyes to look back. There's something wildly intimate about singing a song to someone and in the sea of strangers you know it's just for them. No matter how many people sang it, to another, to themselves or just for the heck of it, the song only belongs to the person you made it for. Just for her. They could never feel the way she felt when she wrote it, how her feelings were entwined with every word.

In her periphery she could see Poppy stand and make excuses to her parents. She left, she didn't see where she went, she doesn't dare look anywhere near where she was, she's a coward like that. All she could feel is disappointment. It takes everything in her not to show it on her face. Was it too late to change her talent to stand up?

----------------------------------

"Come on Poppy, pick a place already. I've been driving around for hours! People will think we're stalking someone around here." Morgan whines in the driver seat taking yet another turn around the block.

"It's been exactly 20 minutes. You're such a baby." Poppy looks at her phone for any places that might still be open around this time. "Turn right, that's not right. Right! Not left."

"Great, now were going in circles. Pull over."  Poppy grumbles.

"What?" Morgan looks confused for a moment but does what she’s told anyway, parking along the street.

"Get out."  Poppy moves to exit the car.

"What are you..?"

"I'm not gonna hijack your car, just let me drive. You suck at following directions."

"...."

They switch seats, Morgan slumps and mopes in hers. Poppy fights back a smile.

“Would you look at that it only took 2 minutes.” Poppy smiles smugly.

“I did all the navigating you only had to turn once.” Morgan complains, getting out of the car and looking around the parking lot. “What the hell Poppy, a 711? You could have told me, I could have turned anywhere and found one.”

“Like hell you could. You don’t even know your left from your right.” Poppy laughs at Morgan’s offended expression. They walked in, shoulders brushing together and Morgan shivers, insisting to herself that it’s because it’s cold.

Poppy smiles, victoriously pulling out what they came here for out of the fridge.

“A freaking capri sun? We drove all the way here for that?” Morgan complains, ready to throttle Poppy. Though there’s something endearing in her expression, that proud smile for finding something she was looking for.

“Just go find something you want.” Poppy shoos her away, grabbing a few more pouches of juice. She shakes her head and walks off in search of snacks.

Morgan comes back with an armful of sweets and chips.

“We just ate. What are you doing? Take these back, I won't buy you all these.”

“You said something I like. I like them all. Come on aren't you rich?” Morgan dumps her haul in the counter, the cashier looking back and forth from them, looking for a sign that it’s okay to scan the items.

“Are you just an overgrown kid or what?”

“Pop, you just bought a juice in a pouch, you have no right to judge me.”

“Fine.”

Morgan carries three bags worth of snacks back to the car, Poppy not attempting to lift a finger just because she paid.

“Your turn. Pick a place.”

Minutes later they're on a cliff overlooking the city. Fading notes from a song playing in Morgan’s car filtered to the back.

“I'm surprised you didn't get lost.”

“I don't suck at directions. You're the one that sucked at giving them.” Morgan says in self-defence. She unlatches the back so they could sit on it, holding Poppy’s waist, helping her up. If Poppy noticed her hands shake, she didn’t say anything. They sat closer together, leaning against the side. She could feel the cold seeping into her shirt, making her shiver. Poppy notices and moves to take Morgan's coat off.

“No. Keep it on.” Morgan stops her, cold hands over equally cold ones.

“But you're cold.”

“I'm not.” Morgan attempts to refute it but her hands are freezing.

“I can see your teeth chattering.”

“I like it on you.” She smiles softly.

“What?”

“I don't want you to be cold. Just take it, don’t be stubborn.”

“If you speak of this to anyone, I would personally kill you in your sleep.”

“Why would you do- oh.” Morgan stared in confusion, then realization.

Poppy moved to sit in the space between her legs, leaning her back into Morgan, taking her hands and wrapping them to her waist. Her hands rubbing over Morgan's freezing ones. To say that she was now warm was an understatement, she was burning from the blush that overtook her body.

“If you wanted to be near me so bad you could've just asked.” Morgan grins, chin propped on Poppy's shoulder.

Poppy huffs and attempts to get up. Morgan's arms stop her, wrapping tighter, keeping her in place. “Don't move, I might freeze to death.”

“That's what I thought.”

They had a toast with the Capri sun pouches, laughing at the ridiculousness of it all. They sat there talking for hours, the company was too enjoyable to give in to exhaustion or cold.

From the time they were talking Poppy shifted her position, now sitting on Morgan's lap, staring up at her while she told a story about their farm animals, making her scrunch her nose in disgust at one of her retellings.

They stared at the sky surprised to see the day chasing the night away. How long have they been talking? Morgan looks at her phone and even more surprised that it's nearly 6am. Time went by so fast.

“I always wanted to see the sunrise from here. Thanks for the company.” Morgan smiles softly, running her fingers through her hair to distract herself from Poppy.

No one mentioned how one of their hands are still interlaced together or how Morgan's thumb drew circles on the back. Especially not Poppy's lips softly grazing the underside of her jaw.

They watched in silence, both aware that as the night was done, so will this new moment they found together.

“I'll take you to back to your dorm.” Morgan reluctantly says, unwilling to move. It was Poppy who moved off her first.

Morgan slides off the back of her truck smirking at Poppy. “Want a piggy back ride?”

Poppy scoffs. But positions herself anyway, her arms wrapped on Morgan's shoulders, Morgan's hands holding her legs securely as she closes the small distance to the front of her car.

They drove back in silence, neither speaking of the moment, afraid it will be over soon.

Morgan stops her car in front of Poppy’s sorority house, tapping her fingers anxiously against the steering wheel.  No one talked nor moved for a minute or two, they just stared at each other feeling the change in whatever relationship they previously held. Poppy’s alarm goes off, effectively ruining their moment.

“I guess... I'll see you later. Good Morning, Poppy.” Morgan smiles softly, hands gripping the steering wheel too tightly, knuckles going white, stopping herself from reaching out.

“I’ll… see you later. Thank you for driving me around.” They both know they will see each other but not in the same capacity as tonight, they will be back to being rivals, enemies, whatever the school made them out to be. She could see Poppy fighting a losing battle against herself before she reached out and kissed the corner of Morgan's mouth. She turns away like nothing happened and exits the car without looking back.

-------------------

Cause I’m off my face in love with you

I’m out my head so into you

And I don’t know how you do it

But I’m forever ruined by you

Cause I’m off my face in love with you

I’m out my head so into you

And I don’t know how you do it

But I’m forever ruined by you

Morgan stands and bows to the applause, yet she felt empty. It all felt useless somehow, she wasn't even there to hear the rest of it. She makes her way backstage, turning the corner as the next talent comes up. She felt like running but before she could turn and walk away, Poppy pushes herself off the wall and approached her. She gulped, unsure of what to do.

“Your voice is very beautiful.” Poppy tells her, voice almost as soft as a whisper. She's searching Morgan’s terrified eyes for something. “The song, did you write it?” She asks all the while moving closer, hands fiddling with the lapel of Morgan’s suit.

All she could do is nod, not trusting her voice at the moment. She takes a step back and another and another until her back is against the wall but Poppy follows her every step. Thank god they seemed alone or she would have burst into flames in embarrassment. Poppy steps closer until their bodies are almost touching.

“Who did you write that song for?”

“I...”

“Tell me.” Poppy looks up almost pleading, wanting to hear what she hoped to.

“It’s for you.” Morgan presses herself even more to the wall, wishing it would just swallow her up. She closes her eyes but it flies open when she heard Poppy gasp. “Are you surprised or?” Morgan trails off, observing Poppy’s expression going from astonished, to happy and outright tearing up.

“I can’t believe you wrote that song for me, I thought that there was someone else.” Poppy breathes in relief, Morgan’s hands wrap around her waist, supporting her weight.

“Just you.” Morgan says breathlessly. Watching her break into a smile made all the nerves she had vanish. She pulls her into a tight hug, smiling when she feels Poppy sink into the embrace. Her head leans on her shoulder and she rests her cheek on her hair. Poppy pulls back and smiles before leanig up and kissing Morgan.

[ithehellisbucky]

Fake Smile

Carol Danvers x Reader

Request: for @marvels-writings

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: Hatred, grief, suicide, etc

Author's Note: This is for @marvelxreaderfanfictionfest's contest last year, it's already on ao3 here. They have a great contest opening on may tenth for the mcu ladies, so go check that out! There isn't enough wlw fanfiction in this fandom (or really any).

~

You could swear her skin was glowing. Or at the very least reflecting the colors around her. Soft golden light shone around onto her face from the cracked window next to her chair, and she basked in the light as if she had just won every award the world had to offer. She didn't have the right to be this fucking pretty.

Her golden hair floated around her head, almost literally, forming a halo that made her look even more like an angel. Her skin was only several shades lighter, and her cheeks scrunched up in a way when she laughed that you could only describe as euphoric. Her piercing blue eyes only complimented her features, and your eyes were instantly drawn to her impossible beautiful cheekbones.

If only the woman below that was as beautiful as the face it belonged to.

Carol was the enemy. Not literally, of course. But she was the enemy. Utterly unsympathetic when you had told her about the death of your best friend in the dusting, you had grown to despise her within mere minutes of a word coming out of her mouth.

She laughed like she didn't notice you glaring. And when she finally locked eyes with you, her lips formed a smirk and kept on giggling.

In the brief days that she had returned to earth, she made it her mission to do everything for the sole purpose of lighting rage inside your chest. No one had the right to make you feel this way, least of all her.

She had returned to earth to "check-in." In the past 3 years since the snap, the world had taken a turn for the worst. Not only was every other person gone, but the death toll was slowly rising. Crime rates were increasing, and the suicide toll was only getting higher.

Every single damn day of your life you had dedicated yourself to helping the people on earth, and the only thing she had on her mind was the big picture. Trying to bring people back that couldn't be brought back. Bullshit.

All you were trying to do was make sure that the people who had left stayed alive.

"Ava? Would you like a scone." She said it in a normal voice, but you could feel the passion behind the words.

"No thank you. I'm careful about what I let others feed me. Because I'm careful. Unlike some other people I know." You say in the most passive and sickly sweet voice you could muster.

"I'm very cautious about keeping myself, and others, safe. I'm just nice enough to do it politely." She responded in the same voice as before.

"Carol, Ava. Do I need to remind you that this is a professional meeting, where we are to talk about important topics only." Nat said in a stone-cold tone. Natasha was never the most playful person, to begin with, but in the past 3 years, things had taken a turn for the worse.

When someone is already flying by the seat of their pants and is about as stable as a bull in a china shop, you tend not to provoke them. And by provoke, I mean of course murdering half of humanity.

"I was being professionally, just Carol here was-"

Natasha sharply cuts you off. " Ava. "

"Fine." You say, internally rolling your eyes.

Carol looks you dead in the eyes and gives you a smirk. Damn this woman.

You had been through hell. You had talking people of bridges, you had stood up for abuse victims in court, you had watched the people you had loved die. You were a stone-cold bitch. But with Carol, you might as well be a 2-year-old with a pair of scissors and a disturbing lack of adult supervision.

Once the meeting was over, you sparked a conversation with Natasha. "Hey Nat, do you wanna get some lunch?"

She looked at you, and then down at her phone, and then at you again. "Um, I can't. Not today." She looks behind her shoulder, and a sinister smirk creeps onto her features. "But I'm sure Carol would love to go out with you."

"Natasha, no. I said no."

Her menacing grin only intensifies. "Oh come on Ava, you could cut the sexual tension between the two of you with a knife."

"It's not sexual tension. It's just tension. Because we hate each other."

"Mm, I don't think so." She turns over her shoulder and calls to the blonde. "Carol, could you come here for a sec?"

Carol's head perks up, and she walks towards Nat, a scowl forming on her face when she sees that you're next to her. "What is it?"

"Do you want to go to lunch. Will Ava and I?" She questions politely.

"That sounds great, but doesn't Ava have to do that... Thing?"

You turn on your sickly sweet smile for what seems like the ten-thousandth time. "No, I canceled it. Just. To. Have. Lunch. With. You."

Natasha is almost guffawing at this interaction between the two of you. "Alright then, lunch it is!" She starts walking right without any hesitation, and both you and Carol have to run to catch up to her.

"I saw this cute little Italian place. Do you want to go-"

"Chili's." Natasha stops her pace and looks back at you.

"What. It's an incredible experience that I'm sure we'll all enjoy."

It's now Natasha's turn to wear the fake smile. "Great."

You reach Natasha's car, and she quickly whips out her car keys.

"Oh, we're riding together?" Carol exclaims with disgust.

"Yeah, saves energy," Natasha exclaims as she checks her phone.

"I call shotgun!" You counter, trying to do anything to get away from Carol.

"No shotgun. I think it would be nice for the two of you to bond. I wish it was in a bedroom, but a car will do." Natasha says, still looking down at her phone.

"What was that?" You asked, hoping that you didn't hear what you thought you heard.

"No shotgun, window's broken." She replies, opening the door.

You and Carol squeeze into the back seat. It wasn't a tight fit, by any means; but anywhere that isn't 50 feet apart from her is hell on earth. How was she so fucking pretty.

Every time your skin brushed together you shot up as if you had just touched a shock wire. The glares passed between the two of you could freeze even the darkest parts of hell.

As you were getting out of the car, you slammed the door in Carol's face. She opening it, and it was obvious she was pissed.

"Oh come on, you're a fucking superhero, if you're afraid of a car door then you're in the wrong line of work."

She doesn't respond to you and instead flashes you one of her infamous fake smiles.

The Chili's is cozy, with only 15 or so booths, less than 5 of them preoccupied. The hostess kindly led you to a booth, in the corner of the room. You slide into the booth first, and your shoulder pushed against the plastic wallpaper when you moved into your seat.

Carol takes her position in the seat in front of you. Natasha doesn't sit down.

She makes deadly eye contact with you as she pulls her phone out from inside her pocket. "Oh look, I just got a text message." She exclaims, not breaking eye contact.

Natasha quickly flashes you the screen of her phone, showing that in fact, she had not gotten a message. "I have to go. Emergency."

"Are you sure." You say, yet again feigning a smile.

"I'm positive, there's an emergency at work."

Carol attempts to get up and join Natasha before Nat gives Carol a disapproving glance.

"There's always going to be an emergency, but there isn't always going to be lunch." You say, cocking your head and putting on a smirk.

"No," Natasha says. And smiles at the two of you. "Have fun."

You flip her the bird, and without even turning around she returns the favor.

"This is going to be fine." You say.

"Yep," Carol responds, popping the p.

The two of you study the menu for a couple more minutes.

You begin to notice that whenever you adjust yourself Carol does the same, and you do as well, subconsciously.

The waitress walks up to you and politely introduces herself. She asked you what you wanted and, without skipping a beat, you ordered yourself the best thing on the menu, and Carol the worst. She looked as if she was going to protest, but at that point, the waitress had walked away. And all you did was sit there and smirk.

The tension in the room was not sexual. The hatred you felt in your heart for her and the simultaneous need to kiss her and have her kiss you back was not sexual, in any way shape or form.

"So." You promptly exclaimed, in the most positive voice that you could muster.

"Yes," Carol responded, deadlocking her eyes onto yours.

The longer you stared into her eyes the more love you felt. You lost yourself in the depths of her eyes as if you were Alice just entering wonderland. The smile lines surrounding her lips were faded and it seemed as if she hadn't cracked a grin in decades. Her fair hair fell into her eyes, and she quickly brushed it out of the way with one unmanicured finger.

"Why the fuck are we doing this?" She asks, avoiding your gaze.

"What do you mean?" You counter, plastering on another one of your on-brand fake smiles.

"Forcing ourselves to sit in this hell-ish place just for the courtesy of Natasha."

You tilt your head slightly and regain eye contact, "oh, so you want to leave?" You politely ask, knowing all to well the stir that you would get from Nat if you left now.

"No, of course not." She said, rolling her eyes. "But, why would she ever think that I would ever want to be around you for longer than the 5 seconds that are already peeling off my eyes."

"It's nice to see how kind you are to the people around you." You respond, attempting to be as harmful as she was even though you were internally hurt.

"But now that you mention it, I'm realizing how shitty it is that I have to engage in conversation with someone as horrible as you." You winced, and you were positive that she didn't notice either, because she was doing the same.

"What are your powers then, fixing computers?" She mocked you with a smile "oh, the world is ending. Look, someone to get rid of a faulty line on my phone."

"Oh yeah, I forgot that you were a dinosaur. I'm sorry, we don't use phones bolted to the wall in national security." You exclaimed. You wouldn't usually be so harsh, but her words were causing you to lash out.

"At least I can hold up in a fistfight." She said, putting on another mask of a hollow smile.

"I can hold up in a fistfight just fine, but can you hold up with a speakerphone button on an iPhone?" Ah yes, another hollow shot at her prehistoric days.

"You know, for someone how talks all this talk, I'm shocked that you can't actually do anything. Oh wait, I'm not. Sorry, Princess, you're all bark and no bite."

"Excuse me, I forget I was talking to someone who flies around in a space-suit and mohawk." Yet again another fake smile.

The two of you continued to bicker for another few minutes until the waitress comes over with your food.

"I can't believe that you would do such an ignorant f-"

"Hi, I have your food." A woman with a positive attitude and a braid crown places your meals in front of you.

You quickly stopped your argument and the both of you put on yet another fake smile to make it seem like you weren't two seconds away from causing an avengers level threat.

"Thank you so much."

"Really, we really appreciate it."

The second the woman walked away you were back at each other's throats.

But, somehow, Carol was still gorgeous all the while she was yelling at you and eating a shrimp on top of a salad drenched in vinegar.

"Seriously, you're so incompetent." You quickly burst out when she notices you staring.

"Maybe you wouldn't worry so much about me if you were actually doing your job." She responds, rolling her eyes.

"I am sweetie; I'm just good enough at it to be able to pay attention to your uselessness."

"You're too kind." She exclaims as she reaches for a napkin that you quickly pull away from her.

"What I find especially depressing about you is that you will never grow. You're the same person. You're stuck in a box. You will never be better than what you are now. And what you are is shitty." She looks up at you, " Princess ."

You pull back from your meal in shock. You couldn't believe that she had said something like that to you. It pointed out everything you had ever worried about yourself.

"I can't believe you. Why are you so relentlessly horrible to me? What have I done to you? I get when you take cheap shots. I take cheap shots all the time. I don't hate you. Why do you hate me?! I don't hate you! I love you!"

Carol freezes up. Everyone in Chili's looks at you. You were screaming. And you had just told Carol you loved her. You told her you loved her.  You loved her.

"What?" She says in a meek voice.

"I'm so sorry Carol, I was just-" She kisses you.

Carol kisses you.

Carol puts her lips on yours and kisses you.

And you kiss you back.

She's leaning over the table and knocked both your plates off the table and knocked you drinks over. You feel the liquid on your knees as you climb onto the table and place yourself on top of it. You kiss and you kiss until the rest of the world is null and void.

You only pull away for air, and when you're doing so Carol whispers a careful "I'm sorry."

You keep on kissing and kissing.

"I love you, I love you, I'm sorry, I love you." Muttered between you.

You finally pull away and stare into each other's eyes for a minute, basking in the beauty of her blue orbs.

"I feel god in this Chili's tonight." You breathlessly exclaim.

She laughs a beautiful, glorious laugh, and then leans in to kiss you again.

~Requests are open~

New fics out most Saturdays (check on Masterlist or bio in case the day changes) 💜💜💜💜

~Taglists are open~

Permanent Tags: @natasha-danvers​

Marvel:

TUA:

Criminal Minds:

[dancingthesambaa]

The Smell of Plum Blossom Tea Ch 13

Summary: Just like a butterfly wing, a single act of kindness can change the course of the future, it certainly did for MK as a black furred monkey put out a hand towards him.

Rating: Teen and up

Chapter 13: The Apocalypse (But with More Bulls)

A group of children huddled together as they tried to escape the robotic drones that surrounded them in the ice cream shop. The streets were no longer safe as they had been filled with roaming Bull drones and they ripped and tore no matter what or who stood in their way. They hoped that they would be able to wait it out until help arrived, but they didn’t count on the drones coming into the building and finding them.

“AHHHHH!” They all screamed as the bulls began to leap at them.

SMASH! BASH! CRASH!

Their eyes widened as they saw the machines falling to the ground in bits and pieces until there was nothing left except for an ominous violet figure before them.

“S-s-stay away!” One of the older children nervously warned as she stood in front of them with her arms stretched out.

“Dude, he-she-they just saved our butts,” another child put a hand on her shoulder, “I think they are one of the good guys.”

“We don’t know that!” She argued.

“I mean, they are standing right there and haven’t attacked us yet sooo,” a younger girl pointed out. “Point in the good guy direction.”

“That doesn’t mean-”

“Wait, I know him!” They all snapped their heads to the youngest in their group as he ran up to the figure.

“Bao!”

“Wait!”

“Are you crazy?!”

“MAC MAC!” He grinned as he threw his body to him, “I am so happy you are here!”

The monkey said nothing as he caught the child and gently patted the child's head.

“Sooo, Imma go out on a limb here and say he's good,” said the girl with the prosthetic arm. She happily smirked at their groans.

“Oh yeah, he is my sister's former teacher, though I don’t think I've ever seen you like this,” he pondered.

“Clone,” the demon uttered.

“Clone?”

“Follow me,” he instead said as he walked to the door, “I’ll take you where it’s safe.”

“Really?”

“Awesome!”

“That’s a relief.”

“Can I bring some ice cream?”

The children all chatter with a bit more pep in their step as they trudge through the war torn streets and fallen buildings until they laid eyes on a set of buildings that looked relatively untouched by the madness surrounding them with a pristine white hospital building in the middle of it all. Some people were littered around the street, but when they stepped into the hospital it was a lot more hectic as not only doctors and nurses were bustling around trying to tend to as many wounded as they could. But there were also regular people trying to give a helping hand as they either did basic first aid to those who needed it or helped the staff collect the supplies they needed.

“Whoa,” they all collectively gape at the semi organized chaos inside.

“Bao!” The child looks to see Bohai's relieved expression, “thank the gods you and your friends are okay.”

“Mac Mac saved us,” he wiggled out of the monkey arms to get a hug from the jellyfish demon then he looked around the room. “Where’s Yanyu? Is she okay?”

“She’s fine, she was working when this all went down, so she is currently in the back taking care of a bunch of patients. Are you all alright?”

“Just scrapes and bruises,” one of the girls says as she covers the mouth of the one armed girl. “You are not making another missing arm joke, you hear me.”

“Fine,” she huffed then she grinned mischievously as she looked at Bohai, “so do you guys need a hand, I can only spare you one though.”

“For the love of-!”

“Stoppp!”

“Nooo!”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” she laughed at the agony.

“If you want to bring the staff some snacks and drinks, and yes I’m including everyone in this list, that would be awesome. They really need to pick me up right now,” he showed them to a small area where copious amounts of food and drinks were laid out. “People have been bribing them since this all started, but no one really had a break yet.”

“You can count on us!” The oldest girl saluted as she and the rest gathered snacks in their arms and began to spread out all through the hospital, except for Bao who was still holding onto the jellyfish. Even the clone Macaque had left had begun to venture through the hospital and began to help out a few patients.

“…is everyone else alright,” he whispered out in hesitation.

Bohai kneeled down and smiled, “I think they will be just fine, your brothers and sisters are smart after all. I know they will pull through.”

“Right,” he nodded and shared a grin.

“And we have people and demons looking for anyone who needs help,” that included his friends on the list as Daiyu took to the skies and over the seas, Minsheng and Ahmed took to the streets looking for stragglers, and Macaque leaping from building to building checking to see if there are any lingering people trapped inside. “So don’t worry about them, instead how about we focus on feeding some hungry people. I know how cranky they can get when their bellies are empty.”

“Like Yan Yan when she forgot to eat because she had a 30 hour shift and she tied us all up when we mentioned her leftover food in the fridge.”

“Exactly.”

“How does this keep happening to us!” Mei yelled out as she and MK were hanging onto the sword for dear life as they dangled above the pit of despair.

“I don’t know!” MK yelled too as he clung onto Mei’s legs. “How do we get down?!”

“I don’t know!” She adjusted her grip on the sword, “we are currently on our way to fight the Demon Bull King, one of Monkey King greatest enemies, with less than 2 weapons on us if you don’t count my daggers and your brass knuckles, the rest of our team still keeping the ones up top busy and-wait!” Mei’s eyes brighten, “not everyone!”

“Huh? Who?!”

“Macaque!” Mei could feel a breath of relief come through her, “he’s still in the city dealing with the other clones, but I think this warrants a higher attention.” If anyone, other than the Monkey King and MK, can stop the Bull King, it’s him.

“I don’t know,” MK flinched as Mei's head creaked to him and her eyes began to twitch.

“Oh no, we are so not doing this, I am calling fuzzbutt whether you like it or not,” she stated and she sucked in a deep breath.

“Wait,” he quickly climbed her and put his hands over her mouth, “we don’t need to call him, I can handle this.”

“Do you not see where we are?” She would emphasize their precarious situation, but she is currently holding onto the only thing that is stopping the both of them from becoming mush on the floor. “What is your problem with calling him for help?”

“Nothing,” he too quickly defended himself.

“Then you should have no problem if I call him.”

“You're not calling for him.”

I’m calling him.”

“No, you're not,” he argued.

“I am!”

“You're not!”

“Am!”

“Not!”

“Am!”

“Not!”

“Am!”

“Not!”

“Not!”

“Am! Wait-dammit!” He cursed as he got tricked.

“Ha! I win, and I'm calling him!” Mei grinned.

MK was about to refute her when he saw a terrifying sight above them. “Noooo.”

She raised her eyebrow as she turned to see what he was looking at and she almost let go of her sword as she saw hundreds of deactivated Bull drones stationary all over the walls and mere meters from where they were at.

“Shit.”

BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ

Mei’s phone buzzed quite loudly.

“Shit.”

Blue eyes lit up one by one as the drones quickly woke up at the sound as their heads all snapped towards the two lone humans.

“SHIT!”

“GHA!” Red son grunted out as he was flung back. He gritted his teeth as the sharp rocks pierced him, but he shakily stood up as he stood behind his mother, who was also silently huffing for air as the two of them faced down the enraged Bull King. He knew something was wrong, there had to be something, otherwise, his father wouldn't so carelessly nor even attempt to accuse the two of them of traitorous intent based on the barest of threads.

‘There has to be,’ he desperately thought as he silently looked at his hands and gripped it as it began to heat up. ‘But there is no defining evidence…I should have never taken that key.’ He regretted silently as they were once more prepared to go toe to toe with the Bull King when out of nowhere.

“AHHHHHHHH!” BOOM

MK lands face first into the ground.

“Noodle boy?!” What is he doing here?!

“Little thief,” Bull King hissed out as he then gripped his head and uttered. “Sun Wukong.”

Both he and his mother were startled by that admission as they couldn’t help but share a glance, as they passively watched Bull King begin his assault on the Monkey King successor.

Red son gritted his teeth as he watched his friend get pulverized by his father. ‘I have to do something, but what can I do? Something nefarious is afoot with father and yet I am standing here like a dame instead of helping MK. MK? No! No, I mean I have to help father snap out of whatever has come over him instead of beating upon my fri-noodle boy! Hurting noodle boy…he is hurting noodle boy…MK.” He snapped out of his thoughts when he saw the horrifying sight of the rage filled demon looming over MK with his fists raised high in the air.

“NO!” He burst into flames and charged forward, but was stopped by his mother as she swiftly sent out two airstrikes to the Bull King and used her fan to sweep the boy away from his demise and plopped him down next to the both of them.

“Wha-” he groggily got up as he looked up in surprise at Princess Iron Fan.

“It’s the canister, they have driven him mad with power,” she said as she hatefully eyed the glowing blue canisters upon the Bull King back.

“Well that’s a problem,” he blinked as he saw the skeletal remains floating about in the sludge of energy.

Then in a feral-like fury where only instinct took full control of body rather than the mind, the Bull King had snarled at them and began to charge on all fours.

“All right,” he used his staff to pick himself up, “time for round 2.”

“No, we fight together,” the prince said in determination as he readied his stance and was about to charge once more when another voice echoed.

“Seems like you guys can use a hand,” their eyes widen as they see the Bull King sink into the ground as a massive transparent violent hand of energy crushed him.

“Dad/Macaque!” MK and Red son cried out in relief as Iron Fan said it a bit more calmly as MK continued. “How are you here?!”

“Jade rang for me,” the voice echoed out as it continued its struggle against pinning the demon down. “Said some interesting things too.”

Mei's hands twitched anxiously as she waited for any sign of MK. She had just finished cleaning up the rest of the drones in the caves, but she thought it best if she kept here in case there would be any bot or people trying to sneak in to aid the nefarious family. Yet, that didn’t stop her from wanting to go down there and help her friend, no matter how stupid or dangerous that may be.

“You know what, screw this. Sorry MK, but we need all the help,” she gave a quick apology as she sucked in a deep breath and yelled, “MACAQUUEEE!”

Her voice vibrated through the walls.

She knew that she could have easily called him on her phone and he would have come just as quick, but that didn’t really matter in the long run as he saw a dark figure leap his way over to her. “Took you long enough,” she said with a small grin as he phased into the mech.

“Sorry, the city is in chaos as you know,” Macaque sarcastically said as he eyed her state to see any injuries.

“I’m fine,” she quickly said, “but MK is down there fighting DBK!”

“What!” His golden eyes that were tinted with violet eyes snapped onto her light green ones as all six ears twitched.

“Yeah, he didn’t want me to tell you, but I think we have bigger things to worry about.”

“Don’t want me-no,” he stopped himself short before he could go deeper. “Putting that to the side, for now, bigger problems first. Will you be fine if I go to your idiot brother.”

“I am currently inside of a monkey mech,” she deadpanned, “I am more than fine.”

He shot her a smirk and ruffled her already messed up hair and sunk back into the shadows and began to move deeper into the pit.

“Ahaha, about that,” MK nervously scratched the back of his neck.

“We are talking about this later.”

“Yeah that’s fair,” he slumped down.

Then a figure leaped out from the shadows of the Bull King as the Bull King rapidly gained back its bearing and destroyed the hand pinning it down.

Macaque whistled, “Well, I thought that it would at least keep you down a little longer than that, but apparently I’m wrong.”

“It’s the canister!” MK yelled, “they’re amplifying his powers.”

“You don’t say,” he muttered as he eyed the glowing blue power of energy then stared at it a bit harder as something felt off about it. “Somethings not right.”

Princess Iron Fan raised an eyebrow at his comment but quickly pushed it aside as she readied herself. “We can save questions for later, right now we have to get those off of my husband.”

“Right,” he nodded and his eyes went back to the Bull King who was getting up, “alright anyone got a plan.”

“Both Red son and I shall distract him, while the two of you get that monstrosity off him,” she said.

“Gotcha, you ready comet,” he summoned a few of his clones.

MK hesitated before nodding as he put his staff forward, “born ready.”

Then, without warning, the rest of the royal family burst into action as the two attacked the Bull King in a rapid fire as he was suddenly surrounded by a huge fire tornado.

“YOU SHALL FALL TOGETHER!” He roared out as he dispersed it with a loud crackle of energy.

Both of them, who was very much still injured and winded from their already long fight, were pushed back as they fell into the rubble. They slowly tried to get up as the glowing King stomped his way towards them.

His form seemed to almost ripple in anticipation as he locked his glowing blue eyes on their downed forms. No hesitation in his steps as the voices in his head urged him to finally end the traitors.

End the traitors

Destroy them for their treachery

Build a kingdom worth your name

Let their bones turn into ashes

Let their blood soak into the ground

Let their flesh set a reminder

You are the true king

“Yesss,” he hissed out his agreement as he raised his arms to finish them (ignoring the heavy invisible restraint against his arm and a small voice yelling at him to stop.) He would end this now.

Then his head was hit by a rock.

He snarled as he turned to look at MK, who was still in a throwing position.

“Hey, guess I’m a better pitcher than a hitter!” He joked, but then yelped as he felt himself get caught in the Bull’s hand.

“I’ve had about enough of you, one would think that you would learn more of the little sage tricks,” he snarled.

“I don’t know what to tell you,” he shrugged.

Bull King snarled as he proceeded to squeeze him until he was nothing but bones and blood.

“Wait! Wait!” He cried out until he poofed out in a golden light.

“What!” He shouted as he looked at the falling hair, “a clone!?”

“Yup!” He looked to see the real MK in mid-air, “and I didn’t learn little tricks from only the Monkey King,” he grinned as he summoned a hoard full of clones.

He snarled and was about to jump up to meet them when he felt his hooves and hands being grabbed, he looked down to see many Macaque clones holding him down, while some were grabbing his hands.

“Get ready for a nice wake up call,” the real Macaque smirked as he kept into the shadow to keep a steady supply of energy to his clones.

“HERE COMES MONKIE KID!” MK cried out as he and his clones proceeded to all out attack the Bull King until the canister was finally knocked off his back and with one final burst of energy, it had dispersed.

Freedom

Freedom

Gather back

Become one again

Vessel

Freedom

The black furred monkey felt a shiver running up his spine as he heard the voices ringing in his ears. He looked around and sure enough, it seemed that he was the only one who heard the ominous whispers.

‘That wasn’t a normal power madness,’ he concluded as he realized what really happened. Before he could tell the rest he felt a gust of wind come about as the three demons proceeded to leave.

“Are you serious?!” MK panicked as the rocks began to fall down all around them. “You really just left us here!”

“Honestly not surprised,” he shrugged his shoulder and grabbed his kid by the back of his shirt, “now come on and let’s get out of here before the rocks do us in.”

“How?!”

BOOM!

They looked to see a giant Monkey Mech burst in as Mei smiled at them.

“Everything went well! Need a lift?”

“Mei!”

“Nice timing Mushu.”

“That was some fight huh,” Sandy said as he ate his noodles on top of the giant mech with everyone else. “But we managed to stop DBK.”

“Nice job defeating him MK,” Tang grinned as he slurped up the remains of his bowl.

“I don’t know, I don’t think I really defeated him,” he muttered as he fiddled with his chopsticks. “There was something weird, that power he had just made him…different.”

“But we won right,” she looked on the bright side.

“I’m sure it’s fine,” the historian appeared over Pigsy's shoulder and was casually grabbing some noodles from his bowl. “You don’t need this right sugar.”

“Get your hands off my food!” He pulled away from his lover as everyone around them laughed.

Amid their exuberant energy, they haven’t quite realized that the area was almost desolate with anyone else, including animals and bugs that usually roam around here. The only animal anywhere near them was a bird that perched right on top of one of the outer rocks in the clearing. It seemed to be in a tranquil state as it took in the scene, so it spread its wings to fly off when a voice stopped him.

“You know you could have jumped down and talked to them instead of standing there like an actual creeper,” said Macaque as he emerged from the shadow.

The bird gave him wide eyes as he instinctively transformed back into his original form, “Didn’t really think I should just go in there when all is said and done,” Wukong said as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Wow, it must have taken a long time to think about that with the way you were sitting there,” he rolled his eyes and leaned against the rock.

“I’m not that bad,” he muttered and settled back down on top of the rock.

“Could have fooled me with the number of times you have a stupid idea.”

“Oh like you haven’t had one.”

“I have my own fair share, but it doesn’t even pale in comparison to yours, should I bring up the Kinnara incident,” he smirked.

“How was I supposed to know that she would kick our ass for interrupting her song,” he grumbled.

“Your ass,” he emphasized, “I had the common sense to stay behind, one would think not to mess with a being whose own gaze can pierce through you.”

“Didn’t seem that way to me.”

“Well, you didn’t have something called survival instinct.”

“To be fair I had plenty of instincts, but I just chose to ignore it back then and thought she was a harmless target,” he then shuddered, “so many regrets that day.”

“Pfft,” he chuckled lowly and Wukong couldn’t help but join in. He knew he was very stupid back then and so much more impulsive and looking back on it now, it is rather funny. But the laughter couldn’t last forever as it then died down as the atmosphere turned into an awkward silence.

Both monkeys knew they were avoiding the bigger problem at hand, but neither wanted to bring that up. At the same time though, they couldn’t ignore it forever, and eventually one of them will have to make the first step soon.

So Macaque opened his mouth and said, “Well if you ever feel like leaving your mountain other than stalking my kid, the forest is always open.”

“Really,” his eyes widened.

‘You really want to see me again.’ The silent question was asked.

“It is a public area, though you might want to bring starlight along with you if you want to see the not so public sights,” he said with a shrug.

‘Yes, I do.’ Was the silent answer.

“I’ll definitely do that! Maybe sometime next week?” He couldn’t stop his smile from growing widely.

“That work, well I got to get back. Too much damn medicine to make and that’s with my clone's help,” he grumbled as he pushed back off the rock.

“See you then,” he said with a short wave.

Macaque flippantly waved his hand as he sank back into the shadows.

Wukong grinned as he watched his friend's aura travel through his shadows until he had reached the city limits. It was only then he turned back into his bird form and took off towards his mountain once more.

“So the hospital is really that backed up again,” MK asked as he sat on top of the rooftop with his dad the next day.

“Like a car side swiping a train,” he groaned as he laid down. “I just got done helping not even an hour ago.”

“I bet Yanyu had to drag you out,” the monkey successor snorted.

“Nah, she was snoring in the back room, she passed the fuck out a few hours back after a successful surgery,” he grinned in pride. His student has really come far since he first started teaching her and to think that she had doubts about her ability, now look at her working alongside the attending physicians. He can still remember her running towards him and lunged at him with utter joy on her face when she told him that she passed her qualifying exam. He is really proud of her.

“She deserves it,” he nodded.

“She does,” the monkey hummed as he got up, “but I think it’s time we talk about that little thing back in the cave.”

MK nervously straightened up as he scratched the back of his neck, “hahaha what do you mean?”

“You are still a terrible liar comet, why didn’t you call me,” he looked him in the eyes.

“I was going to,” he mumbled, not sounding at all convincing.

“Really,” his voice dripped with sarcasm.

MK tried to keep a straight face, but it didn’t last long as he groaned and put his face in his hands, “Alright fine I wasn’t! But I could have handled it! You're always there and I know I can count on you, but something I need to do by myself. I’m not a child anymore.”

“And I know your not, and I have tried my best to not hound on you,” he said then he let out a sigh, “believe me when I say that I know I worry a little too much-”

“A little?!” Mei shouted as she lifted the hatch up.

“Mei! How long have you been there?!” The twenty years old shouted.

“Hehehe, long enough,” she nervously giggled as she slowly climbed out and sat next to her brother. She had forgotten she was eavesdropping on them and just had to blurt out. “Kinda forgot, but I still stand by my point.”

“I know, I mean ever since you left I've been trying to hold back from outright following you around,” he reluctantly said, not even blinking an eye at Mei’s sudden appearance.

“And I'm glad you haven’t, Mei already has a tracker on all of us,” he shot a glare at his sister.

“Wait really?”

“Yes siree!”

“…I feel like I should talk to you more about that kind of stalking,” he eyed her as he was forcibly reminded of another monkey and his stalking.

“Have you seen the number of times we unintentionally get into weird situations, let alone the times we actively seek it out?” She deadpanned.

“And I take that back,” he retracted his words. “But regardless, I trust you Starbright. I trust you even when I want to scoop both you and your sister up and hide you away from the world. But when shit like this happens, I get fucking worried cause that could have ended in a complete disaster, you understand?”

“But it didn’t!” He protested.

“But it could have,” he shot back and leaned in close, “and I’m so fucking grateful that it didn’t. Cause what if something did happen and the both of you wound up biting more than you could chew, fuck the two of you could have died and I wouldn’t have known shit until I saw your corpse.”

“I-I,” MK didn’t know what to say as he lowered his head alongside Mei. Both teenagers were at a loss of words at the reality of the situation, especially MK.

Macaque took a deep breath and let out a huge sigh as he brought both children close to him, “Look, I trust you to take care of yourself, but if you think you land in a situation you can’t handle, please call me. I know I sound repetitive at this point, but I stand by my fucking word that I will come, okay.”

Both of them looked up to meet their dad’s concerned eyes and nodded.

“You got it,” Mei smiled and leaned further into his fur.

“Okay,” MK sniffed as cuddled closer to him.

The black furred monkey smiled down at both of them and gave them each a kiss to the forehead and silently watched the bustling city below just a little longer.

“I’m fine my queen,” Bull King grumbled as he walked through the cave. “I sustained only minor injuries.”

“I know you have, but you were overtaken by a sinister energy source that managed to drive you mad with power that put your meridians past the point of exhaustion,” she deadpanned. “You need to rest.”

“It still doesn’t make sense how such a source can overtake father's mind,” Red son muttered as he looked through an ancient book. “I have heard tales of items having power from their previous owners and using it to their own design, but never of just raw aura. It just doesn’t make sense.”

“You're not wrong spitfire,” they turned to see Macaque phasing out from the shadow of a rock.

“Six Eared Macaque,” Bull King grumbled before he suddenly caught a bag that was thrown at him. “What is-”

“Spiritual roots from the Kunlun Peak, brew those in tea and they should help your median lines get back into condition before the month is up,” the monkey said as he walked closer.

“This is most useful, I will transfer the money-” Macaque cut her off.

“Consider this repaying the favor of saving my son Raki.”

“If I had not attempted to harm your child in my plight of madness there would be no need for this,” DBK gritted out and slightly lowered his head. He knew that the slight of offense of their agreement was on him and his mad conquest of power, if the Six Eared Macaque declared retribution for his actions then he would have to honor his word. What the outcome will be for both sides remains a mystery.

“Yeahhh what you did was stupid, but that’s actually what I came down to talk to you guys about,” he patted Red Son on the shoulder, “your kid is right about the power madness, what happen to you was not that.”

“What?” Both father and son blurted out.

“Explain,” the mother's eyes narrowed as her hand twitched.

“You were being possessed by one bitch of a spirit, what kind, I don’t know, but I do know the signs of possession when I see one.”

“How?”

“Was the different colored glowing eyes not obvious enough? His spouts of madness? Him going completely feral? Whatever you guys found is powerful, powerful enough to influence you BK.”

There was a silence as the surreal announcement enveloped them then someone growled as two craters appeared on the walls.

“Who dares think they have the audacity,” Queen Iron Fan hissed out as the wind began to swirl around her.

“I swear when I find the leech who manipulates me, I will tear their body limb from limb, bone to bone, blood into ashes and let their soul never find rest,” the King growled out in utter hatred.

Prince Red Son said nothing as sparks of fire flickered on and off around different corners of the cave and his hand trembled with fury.

The Royal Bull family does not take lightly to insults upon their names. They are known for sparking dread within people, making those fall to their feet, being a symbol of fear and power spread all through the nation and someone had the insolence to try to not only take control of their King but even fucking dare try to rip the family apart and kill them under his own hands?

They shall feel their wrath, this they declare.

“Well I have my message out of the way,” he wasn’t even fazed by their spirited anger, “Red a word.”

This snapped the prince out of his fury as he walked over to his pseudo uncle, “How may I help you?”

“Not me per say, but certainly my two kids who are worried the hell for you.”

“Their okay right,” he quickly questioned as he knew MK was alright but hadn't seen signs of Mei.

“A little bruised up, but they had worse, but my advice to you kiddo is talk to them. They have been worried out of their minds and I’m sure whatever you might have done they’ll forgive you.” He knew that Red Son wasn’t talking to them out of some sort of self doubt and guilt, but he wasn’t about to pry into what he did.

“You really think so?”

“You’ll have to ask them yourself.”

“…I will,” he nodded, “Thank you.”

“No problem, but let me tell you that since I have known you for a long time and I know you wouldn’t do abuse trust so lightly, especially from people you give a shit about, I’ll let you off with a light warning,” his eyes began to faintly glow a light violet color, “I may not know what you did, but don’t try to maliciously deceive them again, okay.”

“Yes sir,” he immediately said.

“Good boy,” he smirked and ruffled his hair, “now stop fucking around and send them a text before I duct tape their mouths myself.”

“They’ve been that bad?”

“I almost sicced Daiyu on the both just so they could do something else other than complain,” he deadpanned.

“…full permission to do the same if they get past that point,” he smirked.

“You don’t need to even ask me.”

“Yes!” He excitedly pumped his fist.

[zelistair]

lover's oath, xiao pov.

Inspired by: Lover's Oath - HOYO-MiX

-

This song played when we first met each other's gazes. As for someone who has lived long enough to see almost all things that there is to see, I never thought that there would be a sight that would make me surprised again. A sight that would make my arrogance and coldness falter.

All there is to Liyue, I have seen them all. Well, I thought.

Back then, even before you visited the Land of Contracts, I became aware of your existence. You were the mighty outlander hailed from Mondstadt who saved the Nation of the Wind from Dvalin. You're great in the eyes of all people, whatever nation they may come from.

All was awed and made aware of your bravery, achievement, and mightiness. I was no exception.

As the last Yaksha alive, all burdens lies on my shoulder. The responsibilities that my comrades and I are all supposed to share, they all fell on my shoulders the moment my comrades vanished. All my life, I lived only to help and protect Liyue and its people. For thousands of years, I did it all alone.

You were not the first one to offer help, but you were the first one who extended your arms and hands voluntarily with a sweet smile. You were the first one who's willing. You were the first one who's genuine.

When I lost my comrades, I almost forgot how it felt to have someone by your side through thick and thin. When you came, you made me remember that feeling again. And you made that feeling better. Not only through thick and thin but you're there even when I don't need you to, even when I don't tell you to.

Slowly, I started to see you in a different light.

When you turn around and smile at me after "protecting" me from monsters, I would evade your gaze, your smile. I did not know how to respond for your smile was the brightest. That one time when we released lanterns on the sky, I didn't have the chance to make a wish because I was busy staring at you who's wishing with your eyes closed. With all the lights coming from the lanterns floating in the air lighting your calm face, I strangely felt comforted. That moment felt like it was meant to last forever.

I would like every moment actually to last forever.

You would stay home with me frome time to time and cook my favorite foods. Sometimes, I'd catch you waiting for me inside the house while cooking. I never thought that the thought of someone waiting for me to come home would make me smile.

I thought my smile had disappeared long time ago. My happiness which didn't come back even when I want it to, it surfaced again because of you.

Right then and there, I knew I don't want to let you go. I knew I had to keep you. Because if I don't, I'd go crazy for another time and for that time, I don't think I'd survive.

But, I also know that I can't.

You're the bravest, smartest, and mightiest adventurer and outlander that there is. Traveling nations is what you do. It is your job, your happiness. To take that away from you is not something that I can do. I know that your smile would falter and turn lifeless if I did.

Besides, protecting and helping Liyue is what I do, too. Not Mondstadt, not Inazuma, not Sumeru, Snezhnaya or any other nation but Liyue. Even if I would love to keep on living this current life I have with you forever, I know that it's impossible.

So, I let you go. I let you travel the vast seas to get to Inazuma. I know that you have to find your brother, your remaining family. I wouldn't stop you. Your freedom and bravery is what makes you shine brightly. My love for you is never shallow to take that light away from you, to take those feelings away from you.

So I let you be. I let you fly higher, farther.

Our memories are engraved deep in the rhythm and melody of Lover's Oath, so I'll be fine. Whenever this song plays, I would be reminded of you and you're well-being, I'd never be able to forget you.

I was fine, until news came back to Liyue.

In a letter, it was said that in the hands of the Fatui, the adventurer who saved Mondstadt, defeated Osial, and saved Inazuma, died. In an all out battle where the adventurer was caught up and was merely shielded with few soldiers, the second and third Fatui Harbingers all focused on the traveler.

At that moment, I feel like my head was about to burst. My eyes stings and are hot, my nerves are about to pop and my blood boiled. You.. killed. Died. In the hands of the enemy.

All of a sudden, our memories together flashbacks to me. Your smile, your laughter and your silly jokes. Our picnic on Qingce Village during sunset. Your photograph while lying on the flowerbed in Qingce. All of them came back to me. Why?

"Why didn't I follow you?" I whispered to myself.

I slammed the table making people around me shriek in surprise. The table was broken. All of a sudden, both of the archons appeared in front of me. Breathless, in shock, and livid.

"I could've done so much if I was there with her. I could've saved her. Take her to safety. Take care of her. I should've come with her. I should've been there," it was all I can whisper to myself. If the two gods in front of me are livid and full of sorrow and anger, I was probably worse.

"I know from the start that it wasn't safe, why did I let her leave?" Venti is now crying in frustration. His eyes, bloodshot and full of regrets.

"I should've just told her the truth and break that damn contract. The consequences, I can endure. But this? I can't, I will never be able to," Zhongli spoke.

My tears fell. My only light and happiness was taken away from me. I was once again deprived of the chance to be happy. This time, with her. I could've done so much if I only chose to come with her. And even if we both die, at least she's there with me. I'm there with her. Not like this.

"Zhongli! Xiao!"

A breathless Ningguang and Ganyu suddenly ran towards us. They were both surprised to see someone from Mondstadt but quickly tended their attention towards me. I was hanging my head low and crying, the letter still crumpled on my fist.

"I will avenge her. I will never stop until I kill those who took her away from me. I will not stop until her death's given justice," I whispered, full of anger, contempt, and nothing but blind grudge.

"Xiao.." Ganyu whispered. She then cried when she realizes that the news is true.

"T-traveler.." Ningguang stuttered.

I closed my eyes and let my thoughts flow. Right now, I'm fully ready to avenge you. I'm more than ready to give your death justice. Suddenly, our oath came to mind.

"I swear to never, ever, ever blame myself again for losing my sibling. I swear to never tire myself out again and to never overwork myself so Xiao won't have to get worried!"

Your smile and silly laugh was followed by your remark. My eyes shot open suddenly, but my tears never stopped. I looked at the sky above and saw that it's tinted with yellow-orange now. The sun is setting. For some reason, I don't want it to. It feels like it's you, saying goodbye to all of us.

I almost forgot the oath I made to you. Thank you, for making me remember. Thank you for still saving me even when you're not here anymore.

"I promise to not let myself hold a grudge again and let myself experience happiness.. even in its' tiniest form," I whispered. That was my oath to you. That promise helped a lot with dealing with myself. Now, even when you're gone, you still saved me. I almost went insane. I know that you won't like it if I do. I know you'd be stomping your feet up there, screaming, if I do go insane because of this.

And it hurts more because of that. Because the oath we made are still up and valid, but the person I did it with aren't anymore. How am I supposed to move forward now that you're gone?

I closed my eyes and screamed. I cried so much. I don't care if I'm in the presence of other people. I will let them know that there is someone who grieves for your death so much. That there is someone like me who's left alone because of the stupid ways of the Fatui. I will let everyone know that even when it's not immediately, I will avenge you. And make everyone who's responsible pay.

"I want to hear you again, please let me hear your voice again. Please let me see your smile one more time, I beg of you," I knelt down on the ground and cried.

Just one more time, please, talk to me. Let me know how you're doing. Let me know if you're fine, angry, calm..

"Talk to her, Xiao. She's listening through the wind," Venti suddenly spoke. I couldn't care to ask how did he know, all I want is to talk to her again. To hear her one last time.

"I will always love you, even when you're gone. I will never forget your smile, your words, the happiness you gave to me, the memories we shared. I will keep them all in my heart. I will love you for as long as I live. So please, let me hear your voice, my love. One more time," I desperately whispered.

I closed my eyes and felt a strong wind blowing. With the winds, a voice came.

"I know, Xiao. I love you too. I wouldn't have done those things with you if I didn't. Don't ruin yourself for me. I am contented with what happened. So, don't taint your hands for my sake. Just take care of Aether when you see or find him, alright? It's time for me to go now. And, say thank you to Venti. And say to everyone for me that I valued the time I had with them. I have to go now."

Then, the wind was gone.

Venti dropped to the ground and is panting. But at the same time, he had this weak and genuine smile on. As if he knows what she said. Figuring it all out, I looked at Venti.

"Thank you for letting me hear her one last time."

My gaze went back to the sky that's now turning gray and black. Soon, it'll grow dark. My wounds from today will never heal. My love for you from yesterday will never fade. My oath to you from before will always be valid. This oath has more power to it than what the others think. For it is my oath to you, my very last promise.

I wish I could've heard the song with you again for the last time. It is the song that played when I first met you. How ironic that it's also the song playing for the last time that I'm with you. If I could, I'd die in your place. I would've taken the pain you had on your dying moments if I could, if I was there.

For the love of my life who brought me back to my feet and taught me so much, thank you. So now, I oath to you. Here in your funeral, I oath to you that you will be the first and last person I would come to love for as long as I live. I promise to not let anyone replace you. This oath will be in power and valid, until we meet again in the arms of the gods and goddesses.

[warrioreowynofrohan]

On Gondor and Nationalism

Gondor, and particularly Denethor and Boromir, is characterized more than any other realm in The Lord of the Rings by nationalism, and there is a sharp contrast between its actual role in the war and the way Denethor and Boromir percieve its role. Two quotes in The Return of the King form the core of Tolkien’s discussion of nationalism, and both are conversations between Denethor and Gandalf.

The first:

Denethor: Yet the Lord of Gondor is not to be made the tool of other men’s purposes, however worthy. And to him there is no purpose higher in the world as it now stands than the good of Gondor; and the rule of Gondor, my lord, is mine and no other man’s, unless the king should come again.

Gandalf: ...I will say this: the rule of no realm is mine, neither of Gondor nor any other, great or small. But all worthy things that are in peril as the world now stands, those are my care. And for my part, I should not wholly fail of my task, though Gondor should perish, if anything passes through this night that can still grow fair or bear fruit or flower again in days to come. For I also am a steward. Did you not know?

And the second, discussing Denethor’s views on what should have been done with the Ring:

Denethor: It should have been kept, hidden, hidden dark and deep. Not used, I say, unless at the uttermost end of need, but set beyond his grasp, save by a victory so final that what then befell would not trouble us, being dead.

Gandalf: You think, as is your wont, my lord, of Gondor only. Yet there are other men and other lives, and time still to be. And for me, I pity even his slaves.

Denethor: And where will other men look for help if Gondor falls?

Both of these conversations point to the fundamental flaw in Denethor’s worldview, and it is a nuanced one. He is not the weak, selfish old man presented in the films; he is intelligent, pragmatic, and realistic, and his strategy and tactics are thoughtful. Again unlike the movies, the mission he sends Faramir on - to prevent the armies of Mordor from crossing Anduin, and cause them heavy losses if they do cross - is not a pointless suicide mission but a crucial and tactically necessary battle. He is wrong in his attitude towards and treatment of Faramir, not in sending him into danger.

Denethor represents (as, in another way, does Saruman) the wisdom of the world. His statement that, as the steward of Gondor, his highest purpose must be the good of Gondor, would be approved by many political theorists. But in the wider vision of the story of The Lord of the Rings, expressed by Gandalf, it is critically flawed in its narrowness and arrogance. The war against Sauron is not about the victory or preservation of one realm alone; it is about saving anything and everything good in Middle-earth, in the present or the future. This is the moment when Gandalf comes closest, of any point in the story, to stating outright who he is and what his purpose is; he doesn’t say outright that he was sent by the Valar to preserve the world against Sauron, but he comes near enough to it that Denethor, an intelligent and learned man, could pick up on it if he wanted to. It is important to Gandalf to at least try to get Denethor to understand the importance of what he’s saying.

In the second conversation, though, Denethor has fallen still farther from the truth. In the first one, he only said that Gondor’s good had to be his highest priority, as its ruler; now he says that if Minas Tirith falls, Sauron’s conquered the world anyway and it doesn’t matter if he gets the Ring. In his eyes, Minas Tirith is the only thing standing against Sauron, and the only thing that matters; its defeat is to him synonymous with the destruction of the world. People across Middle-earth are fighting against Sauron: on the very day of the Battle of the Pelennor Fields, the elves of Lothlórien are fighting off an assault by Sauron’s forces, as are the wood-elves in Mirkwood; the Battle of Dale in which the kings of both Dale and the Lonely Mountain fall will be two days later. Gondor is not alone in this war; it is not the only realm fighting and not the only one whose battles matter. It is not the bulwark sheltering the peaceful rest of the world from war; the rest of the world is fighting. But Denethor chooses to regard it as the only place of importance.

These are perspectives that he passed on, in part, to his eldest son, as seen in some of Boromir’s deeds at the Council of Elrond as well as in his later temptation by the Ring. At the Council, he takes the tone that Gondor is unacknowledged and unappreciated and is doing all the work of fighting Sauron: “Few, I deem, know of our deeds, and therefore guess little of their peril, if we should fail at last...By our valour the wild folk of the East are still restrained, and the terror of Morgul kept at bay; and thus alone are peace and freedom maintained in the lands behind us, bulwark of the West...those who shelter behind us give us praise, if ever they hear our name: much praise but little help.” He also - very importantly - instantly conflates “Doom” in the prophecy he hears with “the Doom of Minas Tirith”: the same thing Denethor is doing when he says that, if Minas Tirith falls, the world has already fallen and there’s no point in keeping the Ring away from Sauron. When he is told that the Ring cannot be wielded to defeat Sauron by force of arms, he acts as though the other members of the Council are abandoning Gondor. And so the Ring tempts him with the power to save Minas Tirith, because that’s the only way he can concieve of for the world to be saved.

Aragorn’s response to Boromir, in speaking of the Rangers, is not a counter-boast but an attempt (like Gandalf’s with Denethor) to give Boromir a broader perspective: many people are fighting and resisting Sauron and other evil things, in their own ways (“the servants of the Enemy...are found in many places, not in Mordor only”). Gondor is not alone; it is playing one particular role, while others play other roles.

This attitude, that its battles are the only ones that matter, is quite unique to Gondor. Legolas and Gimli, fighting in the wars of Rohan and Gondor, recognize that their kin cannot come to them: “They have no need to march to war...war already marches on their own lands”. The hobbits continually think little of themselves and their actions, even while achieving great things. (One example that amuses me is the contrast at the Council of Elrond between Boromir, who thinks his comparatively uneventful journey quite heroic - “since the way was full of doubt and danger, I took the journey upon myself” - and Frodo, who regards his achievement of escaping to Rivendell while pursued by all nine of the Nazgûl, and surviving a wound that would have been worse-than-fatal to most other mortals, with an attitude of ‘well, I rather muffed that up’.) The Ents very much have their own priorites - Treebeard says “I am not really on anyone’s side, as no one is really on my side - no one cares for the woods these days” - but they involve themselves in the war beyond merely defending Fangorn, by destroying the orcs who invade Rohan from the north. Théoden likewise keeps the big picture, not just the narrow ‘good of Rohan’ in mind, continuing with his army to the relief of Gondor even as news comes of Rohan being invaded from the north and east (the aforementioned orcs whom the Ents deal with).

Frodo comes closest to understanding what Gandalf is saying in the first-quoted conversation with Denethor. After seeing the Witch-king’s army march out from Minas Morgul, Frodo is tempted to despair: “Even if my errand is performed, no one will ever know. There will be no one I can tell. It will be in vain.” But he resists this: what he had to do, he had to do, if he could, and whether Faramir or Aragorn or Elrond or Gandalf or Galadriel or anyone else ever knew about it was beside the purpose. Aragorn, too, understands it: the march on the Black Gate is the antithesis of Denethor’s perspective: sacrifice of the armies of Gondor and Rohan without even knowing what may happen after they are defeated, in the hope that they may enable someone else to win the victory. They have no way of guessing that Frodo and Sam will reach Mount Doom at the same time as the armies clash at the Black Gate; their hope is founded on the idea of distracting Sauron long enough that Frodo and Sam can destroy the Ring days later, after the armies are all dead.

And Denethor and Boromir’s attitudes are all the more ironic because, in the end, Gondor doesn’t hold up very well. They fall apart and stop even trying to man the walls of Minas Tirith after a mere two days of siege, when food supplies haven’t even begun to be an issue. For a fortified city, especially one as well-designed for defense as Minas Tirith, that’s a very short amount of time to hold out against a siege! During the march on the Black Gate, even the sight of the Plains of Gorgoroth is too much for some of the men of Gondor and Rohan, and they can’t keep going. Yes, they’re just regular people and have never seen anything this horrible before, but Frodo and Sam and now Pippin are also just regular people used to peaceful lives, and they keep going. The purpose of this comparison isn’t to run down the Men of Gondor, but to point out how deeply wrong the idea is of them being the only ones whose fight matters, the only ones with the nerve and determination to protect the rest of the world. The hobbits, who don’t think of themselves as anything special or important or strong, are the ones who save the world, and they do it through hope, endurance, self-sacrifice, love, and compassion, not through military might.

[fruitcoops]

Hello!! I’d also love to read the hobbit fic. I love everything you write!

Hello! I’m so so SO happy people are interested in my other work, even if it’s terribly tragic and angsty! Please read the tw for this work, since it does get pretty intense even with a happy ending. 

For context: this is a snippet of an Tolkien AU I never wrote where the marauders and co are on an adventure and James has healing powers.

TW: temporary major character death, heavy angst, blood/ mild gore, fighting, grief, “enemies to lovers but I’m dying” trope, happy ending

The cold stone digging into Sirius’ cheek did little to shock him from his daze and trembled beneath him as heavy footsteps approached. The screech of metal on metal had been the harbinger of death for too many already. What was one more?

An iron-clad foot landed on his shoulder and rolled him onto his back—he groaned as the edges dug into muscle, leaving him breathless with pain. He was battered, bruised, soon to be broken. Make it quick, he prayed as the axe rose high. Remus, I’m sorry.

There was a flash of movement overhead and the beast stumbled; the swing went wide and slammed against the cliff’s edge as its head was wrenched backward. Long legs locked around its thick neck and an angular face, twisted in a snarl, swam into focus through Sirius’ hazy vision.

“Remus,” he managed, little more than a whisper. “Remus, no.”

Midnight blood trickled from the troll’s neck where a bowstring cut into it. “Go!” Remus shouted as he pulled back with all his might. “Run, you idiot!”

He heaved in a breath and tried to get to his feet, but pain radiated through his torso and he barely made it to his knees before the beast roared and snatched at Remus, who leaned sideways just a touch too far and rolled onto the hard ground. The troll ripped his bow off its neck and threw it to the ground, then lunged for him; Remus dodged, turned, and shoved its arm into the corner of the rock with a harsh crack. The axe tumbled over the side and vanished into the mist.

Sirius must have made some sort of noise as he struggled to get up—get up, broken ribs be damned—because Remus’ gaze snapped toward him.

It happened too fast for Sirius to even gasp. One moment, Remus was reaching to deflect the troll’s trunklike arm from coming down on his head; the next, his eyes flared wide with shock and he sucked in a shuddering breath. The beast twisted the jagged knife in his stomach and yanked it out.

Remus dropped like a broken marionette.

Sirius’ vision blurred again, and not from pain. Distantly, he registered drawing his sword, but the next thing he knew the troll was dead and his hands were covered in blood and Remus was going cold in his arms.

Remus’ mouth twisted with frantic pain. “Sirius.”

“I’ve got you, you’re alright.” His tongue was thick between his teeth and he could feel his whole body shaking while he pressed a hand down on the dark stain spreading across Remus’ torso. “Just hold on, you’re going to be fine.”

“Hurts,” Remus whimpered, grabbing the front of his shirt with clumsy fingers. “Hurts. I’m so sorry.”

“You saved my life.” Sirius’ voice wavered as tears filled his eyes. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

Remus shook his head; his bloodstained lips were growing paler by the second. “I didn’t say it sooner. I’m sorry.”

A sob ripped from Sirius’ chest as he gathered him tighter, feeling his weak heartbeat under his palm as his fingers turned red. “Don’t you dare, not now. Not here. Say it when you’re healed, alright? Say when I can hold you properly.”

“Has to be now.” Remus took a few staccato breaths, then exhaled slowly. He reached up and cradled Sirius’ cheek with surprising gentleness. Sirius braced himself. “I love you. I’m sorry I didn’t say it sooner. Sirius, I wanted forever with you, I’m so sorry.”

It was so, so much worse than Sirius had imagined. Tears traced down Remus’ forearm as he leaned into the touch and let the words spill over his lips. “I love you too, you beautiful, reckless archer.”

“Knight in—” Remus coughed again and jolted in his arms, sending a thin trickle of blood from the side of his mouth. “Knight in shining armor, huh?”

“That’s right,” Sirius sniffled. He brushed stray curls off Remus’ forehead and his tawny eyes slipped shut for a moment. Cold fear flooded Sirius’ veins. “Remus, love, keep your eyes open. Keep them on me.”

A small smile spread over his face despite his small shudders of pain. “How could I ever look away?”

“You’re not allowed to.” Sirius tightened his grip. “Listen. You are not allowed to stop looking at me.”

Remus’ eyes turned sad as his hand dipped down to play at the collar of Sirius’ shirt, too weak to go higher. “I think I have to.”

“No.”

“Sirius—”

“We still have so much to do.” Something heavy stuck in his throat. “I need—I need to show you the stars back home, the ones you’ve never seen.”

The smile returned, molasses-slow and twitching up at one side. Crooked and beautiful, just like him. “The archer.”

“That’s right.” His gaze unfocused and Sirius quickly rubbed his shoulder. “That’s you, your constellation. Just keep looking at me, alright? James will be here soon, and—and Lily, and Dorcas, and Marlene, and Pete, and we’ll all be just fine. I love you.”

Every breath rattled in Remus’ chest, but he kept smiling up at Sirius. “Hey. It doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“Good,” Sirius gasped out. “Good, that’s good. Come on, love, tell me what I can do to help.”

“Hold me.” His abdomen spasmed under Sirius’ damp hand. “Tell me what we’ll do together.”

“We’ll climb the tallest tree we can find and lay down on the top branches while the moon rises.” Tears coursed in stinging rivers down his face, dripping onto stone and pallid skin. “I’ll teach you every constellation I know, and then we can make up new ones. You’re so bloody clever, so you’ll think up the best ones. That’s why I love you.”

“I never hated you, you know.”

Sirius’ chest hurt from holding in a sob. “I know.”

“I’ve loved you since the day we met. I just didn’t know it.”

“Me, too.”

“Wasn’t all that clever of me to fight a troll with a bow, was it?” Remus’ tone was teasing, but his face was sad as a few tears slid down his cheekbone. Sirius wiped them away with a careful hand, forcing back a wince at the chill. “Though I guess you could call that creati—”

He cut off with a coughing fit, grabbing for Sirius’ cuff and sleeve. His mouth opened and closed a few times, soundless, before his head lolled to the side. “No, no, eyes on me. Please don’t do this, Remus.”

With a harsh inhale, he looked up once again, brows furrowing in concern. "You're too beautiful to cry like that. Why are you sad?" 

Because you're dying and I can't do a damn thing but hold you. Because I'd fight a hundred armies and die a thousand times just so you could live. Because we were supposed to have time. "Because I don't want you to leave me."

Remus' fingers, light as a butterfly's wings on his loved ones and deadlier than anything on a bow, were limp on Sirius' arm. A sudden spark of understanding crossed over his pale face and he softened. "You have to let me go." 

"No." 

"You have to." 

"I won't." He shook his head adamantly and tried to coax blood back into those cold hands. "This is not supposed to happen, not like this." 

"Sirius." A barely-there squeeze. "I love you so much, but you have to let me go." 

A high, horrible sound ripped from his clogged throat. "I'm sorry." 

"You saved my life. You have nothing to be sorry for." There was a look in Remus' eyes, then, a look that Sirius knew the name for and didn't dare say aloud. Then it faded, and he blinked slowly. "I'm so tired, Sirius." 

Who would have guessed that nodding once was the hardest thing Sirius would ever have to do? "Sleep, love. I'll be here when you wake up."

Remus leaned his face into the crook of Sirius’ elbow, keeping steady eye contact until lilac lids shuttered liquid gold. “I lo…”

His hand fell from Sirius’ and hit the cold ground. His chest went still with a soft sigh.

Sirius could barely breathe. There was a ringing in his ears that grew louder and louder until he heard nothing else, even though his throat began to sting from screaming. He pulled Remus closer to his chest and held him, desperately searching the mist for anyone who could help. His eyes landed on the sturdy bow with a snapped string lying mere feet away, and he broke. 

He didn't know how long he wept. Minutes. Hours. Years. He begged and pleaded and cursed until he was hollow inside, save for the agony that devoured everything. It must be possible to die of a broken heart, he thought. It must be, because I can't imagine anything else hurting this much. It felt as though someone was ripping him apart seam by seam and all he could do was apologize before going silent.

Hold me. Hold me. Hold me and tell me. I love you.

Soon—or maybe later, time was a fickle thing—long shadows stretched ahead of him and he raised his head. He didn't care if they were trolls or soldiers or more beasts; there was nothing left for them to take. "Sirius?"

He knew that voice. That voice was safety. It was home. "James." 

"We heard shouting, what—” James stopped. Someone behind him screamed, long and loud. "Sirius, what's in your arms?" There was a beat of silence as Sirius tried to balance his hearing again. "Sirius, what are you holding?" 

The last remaining tears in his body flooded out as he uncurled just enough to show them. Remus' face was peaceful, but the mess of blood on his stomach that had transferred to Sirius' shirt was not. "He was protecting me," he said. "The knife—I couldn't do anything—” 

"No." James' voice cracked; the screaming had turned into uncontrollable sobbing. "No, that's—that's Remus. That's Remus."

"He said he loved me." The words tripped over one another as they left his mouth. James didn't need to know this, but he couldn't stop. "He said he loved me and asked me to hold him, so I did. He told me I had to let him go, but I didn't want to. I didn't want to, James, I didn't want to." 

“I know.” Warm, shaking hands fell on him, one on his neck and the other around Remus’ back. “I know you didn’t.”

Sirius' shoulders crumpled as a fresh wave of pain washed over him. "Make it stop." 

"Make what stop?" 

"This." He released Remus' lower back and grappled for James' wrist with a sticky hand, pressing it against his chest. "It hurts so much. Please, Jamie, you have no idea what this feels like." 

“I don’t—Sirius—” James bit his lip and closed his eyes, then opened them a second later with a shocked look on his face. “I have an idea.”

“Please—”

The shock gave way to diamond-hard determination and he squeezed Sirius’ hand. “Do you trust me?”

“Of course.”

“Then you have to let him go one more time.”

Something lurched in Sirius’ gut. “I can’t. I promised to hold him.”

“Sirius, I can fix this.”

"He's gone. I felt it. It's too late."

“Maybe not.” Gently, he pried Sirius’ arms away and helped him lay Remus on the stone.

He looked frail there. False. “You’re a healer, James, not a necromancer. Healers can’t—”

“I don’t give a shit. Rules are for cowards.” James unbuckled his arm guards and stretched his hands over Remus’ chest, taking a slow breath. “Alright, Remus, heal for me.”

Faint light pulsed from his palms, then dissolved. Sirius felt his last bit of hope wither. “It’s too late.”

“Oh, no you don’t,” James muttered through gritted teeth. The light returned, stronger this time, before sinking into Remus’ chest. “Remus John Lupin, you have unfinished business here and you know it. I will personally drag you back here if I have to. A ghost isn’t good enough.”

A high-pitched whining noise filled the air and Sirius tasted metal at the back of his mouth. “James,” Lily warned from the huddled group behind him.

“You’ve never given up easy, have you? Come on, you stubborn fucker, heal!” James slammed his hands down and white light blazed around them; Sirius shielded his eyes on instinct and felt a strong wind whip up as shouts of alarm echoed off the sides of the cliff.

Something knocked against his knees with a sharp gasp. The light dimmed, and he carefully peeked around the side of his arm.

The first thing he saw was amber. Clear, warm, alive amber. “You’re here,” Remus croaked.

Sirius felt a slightly hysterical smile tug at the sides of his mouth. “Told you I’d be here when you woke up.”

“I…died.”

“Yeah.” James seemed torn between ecstatic and utterly exhausted.

“You brought me back?”

“Uh-huh.” He listed to the side and Remus caught him easily before he hit the ground.

“And you…?” Remus blinked at Sirius in surprise, hesitantly touching his hand. “You stayed?”

“Cried a lot. It’s a good thing you’re a fighter. One of the things I love about you, actually.”

Remus stared at him for a moment, dumbstruck, before his whole face split into the most radiant smile Sirius had ever seen and he began to laugh, dragging him in for a tight hug. Sirius clutched the back of his shirt and nestled his face in the bend of his shoulder until he was pulled away rather suddenly and reeled back in for a fervent kiss. "I love you. I love you. I'm sorry," Remus said against his lips. It seemed as if he was breathing Sirius in. 

It was difficult, but Sirius pulled away and folded his hands over Remus' where they rested on his face. "I love you so much. Now that you're alive, I can tell you you're an idiot for trying to take on a damn troll with just your bow." 

Remus just laughed and kissed him again, deep and slow. They broke apart again as the others fell on them in a tangle of tears and laughter; Sirius closed his eyes and held tight to whoever was in reach as the agony in his chest subsided. The pain was still there—he had definitely broken a few ribs—but he no longer felt hollow. Buzzing warmth filled every crack that had splintered through him. Love, he thought giddily. That's love.

[your-turn-to-role]

If you were to put the M9 in order of how feral they are, what would that look like?

i can absolutely do that!

it's also worth mentioning here that ages back one of my friends asked me to rank the cr characters (both m9 and vm) by how likely they were to eat a pickle out of a pond? (i may post that later if people are interested bc it was fun to write) (edit: posted!)

and i feel like this list is gonna end up being similar, but not entirely, because while fjord would absolutely do that under the right circumstances, he is, as established by freckledmccree, Not Feral. but here we go:

1 - nott

we have a clear winner, and it's love of my life feral child mrs veth brenatto. becoming a goblin didn't make her more feral, it just gave her an excuse to stop being beholden to social rules, and dear god did she take it. i'm honestly struggling to cite specific moments here because just, everything she does, has such strong feral energies?? (though i mean, fluffernutter. that's all that needs saying really). but like??? is an accomplished alchemist and uses it to make exploding crossbow bolts? will threaten to kill anyone as a joke just because she feels like it? very few people get its a joke because when nott the brave runs screaming at you you get out of the fucking way?? stole a gun?? used it to shoot her friend to win a race up a tree?? i can keep going. she's so weird and so wonderful and absolutely feral and i adore her

2 - caleb

now, you'd think given that caleb is perfectly capable of acting with dignity and professionalism would make him rank lower on this list. but no. caleb is perfectly capable of acting with dignity and professionalism and chooses to be feral. and the mere act of making that decision immediately boosts his feral points by like a mile. no amount of loyalty or adherence to literally any system, political structure, or set of social rules? turns into a giant ape in combat? has, multiple times, chosen to cover himself in dirt? liam in this outfit???

this is a Feral Wizard.

3 - yasha

now, definite points for a childhood/adolescence spent wandering the wastelands the gods abandoned (literally), fighting other kids and eating giant spiders. yasha is like the textbook definition of feral. but also like... she's soft. you want to give her a hug. she's still intimidating as fuck, but unlike caleb and nott she's not trying to be feral. she's just out here doing her own gay thing. i love her.

4 - jester

now, jester does not have a feral appearance, so i was on the fence for a bit as to where on the list to put her. feral constitutes a certain amount of not caring what you look like or what people think of you, and jester definitely wants to be pretty and wants to be seen as pretty and has quite a few walls in place when it comes to letting people realise she can have negative emotions. her background as a rich lonely kid is also far from feral.

however. have you met her. jester lavorre is on the surface as far from feral as it is possible to be, and then you hear her talk. honestly, growing up alone with only an archfey for company pushes anyone up the feral scale. see also: going round tattooing members of an enemy ship without their permission just 'cause. the pranks. the destruction. the sending spells. jester lavorre is what happens when feral decides to be fucking aesthetic. also she literally made a god so like, no power on this earth can stop her.

5 - beau

beau, like caleb, grew up extremely Not Feral and then actively chose to cultivate the feral within. her introduction literally describes her as "looks like she put on makeup maybe two days ago, and was like 'yeah, it's still fine'". disaster lesbian. Will Fight Anyone And Anything. however, she's more rebellious than she is specifically feral. never stopped giving a fuck about her image or her principles, she's got the underlying feralness of any punk but she's a bit too put together to rank any higher on this list.

6 - caduceus

caduceus is incredibly calm and patient and at least a little bit prim and proper but also like... the dude grew up in a cursed forest talking to plants and bugs and probably eating weird mushrooms. he has no respect for the laws of any society mostly because he doesn't realise they exist and he's SO valid. i also think the fact that we mostly see him with the m9 doesn't do justice to his actual feralness bc like... caduceus gets ten times more feral with his siblings. cad amongst the clays is way higher on this list. but cad in the mighty nein is mostly just here to be chill. god knows they need someone to be.

7 - fjord

the reason for this post. fjord is the opposite of feral. since freckledmccree brought up the subject, i'll also link this thread, if you want a lot of elaboration on this. but for real, fjord is incapable of being feral if you held a sword to his throat, which incidentally is probably the closest to feral he's ever gotten, back in episode 13. but like... the boy has so many internal rules. so many. he had a panic attack over a hat. someone give him a hug and tell him it's okay to just like, do things. he doesn't need 15 separate completely watertight reasons why.

(also we don’t know molly quite as well as the others since he was only in 26 episodes, but he’s pretty damn feral too. somewhere between yasha and jester i think)

(vox machina)

[ship-ambrosia]

Chilumi Week Day 2 - Riptide (Fatui)

Summary: Childe tries to pull her under.

   Lumine gritted her teeth, catching her breath for just a moment before she turned heel and tumbled in the opposite direction she’d been going, barely avoiding the flame-imbued bolt of the Fatui sharpshooter who currently had her in his sights.

   “Behind you!” Paimon cried, giving her just enough time to throw up a gust of wind from her palm, blowing back the electrified hammer of a Fatui vanguard. The soldier fell on his back, unconscious, but it was only a little bit of relief as she remembered the sharpshooter again, the heat passing by her a little too close for comfort this time.

   “You’d think a Fatui hideout so close to the Dawn Winery would’ve been discovered by Master Diluc!” Lumine exclaimed, scanning the cliffs around her for the sniper. Her eyes fell on the manor in the distance, the home of her powerful, Pyro Vision-wielding ally from Mondstadt. She found herself worried for a moment, thinking of the worst. Thinking something might have happened to him while she was in Liyue. But she quickly reminded herself she was in the middle of a fight; besides, if something had happened to Diluc, someone from Mondstadt would have let her know.

   A sudden jolt in her side made her gasp; the agent with the hammer must have grazed her and she hadn’t realized it, but the aftereffects of electro energy were unmistakable. That would mean bad news if she couldn’t find the sniper, and he managed to hit her with fire, triggering an overcharged reaction-

   There was a cry from above, and then the body of the sniper landed at her feet.

   Lumine jumped, startled, unsure of what had just happened. Perhaps it was Diluc, having seen the fight in the distance from his manner? Or maybe it was Amber, the Outrider just happening to have been patrolling the hills of Windrise this way? Even Razor crossed her mind - sometimes he hunted out this far from Wolvendom. She looked up, and the silhouette she saw made her heart sink.

   Paimon gasped. “You!”

   Laughter echoed down from above them, before their rescuer - if he could even be called that - slid down the rocks effortlessly and landed gracefully on his feet right in front of Lumine. While she was breathing heavily from the fight, he hadn’t broken a sweat. Just another thing she hated about him.

   “Well, well, well if it isn’t my favorite traveler,” Childe smiled at her.

   “Well, well, well if it isn’t the most annoying of the Fatui Harbingers,” she snapped.

   “Hey now, is that any way to talk to somebody who just saved you?” He feigned hurt, but the glimmer of amusement in his eyes gave him away. “Besides, you haven’t met all of the Eleven yet, so technically, you don’t know if that’s true.”

   “Call it a hunch. What are you doing here?”

   “I was just casually passing by-“

   “In Mondstadt?” She raised an eyebrow at him, clearly not convinced.

   “Yes, I was casually traveling through Mondstadt, my lady, thank you,” he adjusted his gloves absentmindedly. “When I heard the sounds of battle! Imagine my surprise when I found it was you, my dear friends, being assaulted by thugs! I simply had to intervene.”

   “Thugs, right,” Paimon crossed her arms. “Thugs that happen to belong to your Fatui. Which makes them your thugs.”

   “Not at all, actually,” he grinned. “I’m the representative for Liyue. Any Fatui in Mondstadt are not associated with me.”

   “So who are they associated with?” Lumine asked him.

   He gave her a familiar, infuriating chuckle. “My dear, if I told you that I’d have to kill you.”

   “Lumine! Kick his butt!” Her companion yelled. “And then we’ll tie him up, and take him to the Knights of Favonius ourselves! Or better yet, leave him on Master Diluc’s doorstep!”

   Childe looked toward her, eyes gleaming as though he wanted to see her summon her sword back into her hands. “Don’t threaten me with a good time, girlie.”

   In response, she just kept glaring at him.

   “Okay okay, sheesh. You know I can’t resist that pretty face of yours,” he stretched his arms over his head, as if warming up for another fight. “They’re agents of Scaramouche’s command, as far as I can tell. Signora is still in charge of the Fatui in Mondstadt, but Scaramouche was assigned a new mission by her Majesty, and he’s been given free reign into any of our territories. I heard he was lurking in Liyue, and wanted to check out what his mission was.”

   “So you know it, don’t you?” She pressed him.

   Childe’s grin winded, as he leaned down toward her, his face merely inches from hers. “This seems a bit one-sided, don’t you think? What am I getting out of this?”

   The corners of her lips upturned slightly. She just couldn’t help it, the warm, bubbly feeling that rose in her chest whenever he got close like this. “I’m not knocking you on your ass, how about that?”

   “Like I said, don’t tease a guy. Come on, gimme something. What’re you doing back in Mondstadt? I thought you were done here. Signora already got the Gnosis, after all.”

   Lumine’s expression darkened at the mention of the event. He was trying to get a rise out of her now - everyone in the Fatui had to know about how she felt about what Signora had done.

   “I was coming to talk to Jean and the Knights about what happened in Liyue,” she sighed, giving in. “I wanted to hear some third opinions. As much as I respect Zhongli, Ningguang, and the rest of the Liyue Qixing, I don’t trust them as much as I do my allies in Mondstadt.”

   “About what I did,” Childe guessed. “And you want to tell them about me?”

   She smirked. “Don’t be so narcissistic. Not everything’s about you.”

He considered this thoughtfully for a moment, before sitting down in the grass. Childe gestured for the two of them to do the same, before pulling out his bag and producing a set of papers.

   “You’ve been deemed a threat of higher urgency to the Fatui than the Knights of Favonius, Dawn Winery owner Diluc, or any member of the Qixing,” his brow creased. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen him look so concerned. “Scaramouche has been tasked with subduing you. Those Fatui agents followed you all the way from Liyue, and set up an ambush here.”

   “Whoa! Paimon thinks that must be why Master Diluc hadn’t found them.”

   Lumine listened intently, looking at the papers before her, before it clicked. Her head shot up and her disbelief turned to anger. “You were following me too, then!”

   More to her surprise, he didn’t deny it. “I had to see for myself.”

   “What kind of game are you playing here, Childe?!” She exclaimed.

   “I already told you. I prefer to let other people play the game. I’m just the thrill-seeking pawn,” he answered, his voice even.

   “I’m your enemy! Your Tsaritsa ordered one of the other harbingers to capture me, and you’re taking out your own troops on my behalf? Is this just your new way of manipulating me?”

   “It doesn’t have to be that way,” he mumbled.

   “Huh?”

   “I said you don’t have to be my enemy,” he looked at her, a grim seriousness setting in. “Wouldn’t you prefer if we were on the same side? I love fighting you, more than anything... but fighting alongside you is another thrill. Something I haven’t gotten to experience.”

   “What do you mean?”

   “You could join the Fatui,” he said.

   Lumine and Paimon exchanged a glance.

   “You’re joking,” she replied.

   Childe’s smile returned. “I’m actually not.”

   “I’d rather not take orders from Signora, thanks.”

   “Who said it would be Signora?” Childe once again leaned in toward her, his proximity making her blush again. “What makes you think I’d let anyone else from the Fatui have you?”

   Before she could respond, Childe’s head suddenly jerked backwards, the young man letting out a grunt of annoyance. Lumine glanced around to see Paimon floating in the air behind him, her small hands buried in his hair and pulling.

   “Paimon thinks that you’re up to something bad!” The little fae exclaimed. “Paimon thinks Lumine cannot trust you as far as she can send you flying with her Palm Vortex!”

   “Let go of him, Paimon,” Lumine said, raising a hand to cover her mouth as she giggled at his expense.

   “You’re lucky I’m a generous guy,” the harbinger snapped at the little companion, rubbing the back of his head. “But I’m actually being serious. You’re a very important person to me, Lumine. I would like you to work for me, in the Fatui. I can protect you from the others if you join me.”

   Lumine was quiet for a moment. She’d never seen Childe look so worried - not even when they’d almost lost Teucer in the Ruin Guard factory. He was always sure of himself, of his abilities, to overcome any obstacle before him. Now she doesn’t see that certainty.

   He’s scared. For all his lies and honeyed words, that look in his eyes isn’t something he can just fake.

   “I could never join the Fatui,” she replied, careful with her tone. She doesn’t want to push him away - in fact she wanted to make it clear to him that she’s trying to pull him in closer. “Not after everything they did in Mondstadt. Venti, Jean, Diluc... everyone else in the Knights of Favonius. They’ve been hurt by their actions. Not after what you did to Liyue.”

   He lifted his gaze to her, a storm brewing in his blue eyes.

   She smiled to herself, remembering that it was those same blue eyes looking down at the paper on his desk, at the letter he wrote his family, and Teucer’s words came back to her.

   “No, I want you to travel with me,” For what had to be the first time since she had known him, Childe looked caught off guard. She found it was something she liked from him; it made him look younger, more his own age. She felt her face soften; he had a dangerous influence over her, that she already knew.

   “If you’re so worried about what the other Harbingers are going to do to me, then you should travel with me,” she continued. “I’m not going to stop looking for my brother. I don’t have any allegiance to Snezhnaya, outside of wanting you and your family to be safe.”

   The look he gave her through all of that was so tender, held so much awe, that she felt herself wanting to look away. But Lumine couldn’t drop his gaze - she wanted to show him she was serious. Just as serious as he was about her joining the Fatui with him. She stood there, waiting for his reply.

   “Hey!” Paimon’s sudden exclamation snapped both of them out of their gaze. “Doesn’t Paimon get a say in this? What if she doesn’t want this Fatui jerk traveling with you?”

   Lumine couldn’t help the giggles bubbling up in her throat, and she turned her attention to her companion - allowing both herself and Childe to breathe again.

   She crouched down close to Paimon, as a knowing smirk crossed her face. “Are you really telling me you wouldn’t want Mr. Money Bags here to pay for every meal we have every single day he’s traveling with us?”

   “Oh! Paimon changed her mind! Paimon would be very happy to let Childe travel with us!”

   Now it was his turn to chuckle. “I appreciate the warm invitation,” Childe waited for Lumine to look at him again before he continued. “I see Teucer told you about the letters I sent home.”

   Even though it was certainly not her who should be the embarrassed one, Lumine felt her cheeks heat up anyway. “How did you...?”

   “You’re good at hiding things, girlie, but I’m better,” he said, wagging a finger at her. “I didn’t become a Harbinger just based on my fighting abilities, you know.”

   “Paimon thinks that you are still too crafty to be fully trusted.”

   “I don’t like to reveal my sources, but... Teucer sent me a letter where he asked what’s keeping me from traveling with you, since you both seemed so “happy” with me.”

   “Teucer, huh,” Paimon smiled. “He’s too crafty, just like his brother.”

   Childe’s expression suddenly became very melancholic, soft... and apologetic. “But I can’t join you. Not yet. I understand why you can’t, and won’t, join the Fatui. I already knew you were going to say no, but I had to ask anyway.”

   “Likewise,” she answered.

   He took a step toward her, towering over with that cocky grin of his for a moment. Then Childe took one of her hands in his, leaning down and pressing a kiss to her knuckles. She wasn’t entirely sure why, but the way he grinned up toward her face from behind his ginger hair sent her heart pounding.

   “I’ll do what I can to keep you safe from inside the Fatui, my lady,” he said. “Just hearing that I’m as important to you as you are to me is enough.”

[lupinsx]

Hopeless Romantics

masterlist

Request: Hello love! I loved petty rivals! Would you consider writing a second part?

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Slytherin!Reader

Summary: After a near-death Quidditch incident, Draco becomes the target of some juvenile teasing, leaving the formerly unconscious Y/N terribly confused. (Sequel to Petty Rivals)

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: Brief usage of swear words.

part one

a/n — I'm so happy y'all enjoyed Petty Rivals enough to request a part two. I hope this gives the storyline enough justice. Make sure to read part one first! (link provided above)

tags: @bi-andready-tocry

——————————

Numb. That was all you felt as your eyes slowly crept open, adjusting to the harsh light.

You found yourself sitting on the uncomfortable hospital wing bed. Eyebrows furrowed in confusion, you attempted to bring to mind the string of events leading to your arrival here. The last thing you remembered was being in the middle of a Quidditch game, and the surge of determination as you reached for the Quaffle.

Ah, yes, I got hit by the Bludger, you recalled with a slight grimace.

With the intent to stretch out your sore limbs, you tried to sit up properly, only to be restricted from further movement. You felt something heavy on your abdomen, holding you down. Glancing towards your lower body, you nearly yelped at the sight.

There, laying on your stomach soundlessly, was a head of platinum blond hair. The very head of your notorious rival, Draco Malfoy.

You held back from making a commotion, knowing Madam Pomfrey or any of the others might rush to the scene. Instead, you kept quiet, wondering why in the hell would he be here. Draco was still clad in his emerald green uniform, meaning he stayed for the duration of time you were unconscious. Seeing how tired he was, asleep on the chair with his head on your stomach, you could assume it hasn't been a mere hour. You almost felt a little sorry.

With a tentative motion, you tapped his shoulder. "Uh, Draco?"

His body stirred gently and repositioned before falling back into a deep slumber, this time in a more uncomfortable position. His head was now facing you, body inched closer, and arms wrapped around your waist as his face laid comfortably over your abdomen. Your cheeks took on a cherry shade at the increased contact. Although you'd hate to admit it, seeing him peaceful without any discontent made your heart flutter ever so slightly.

No, you interrupted your thoughts, don't think that way about him. He's your enemy. With those words in mind, you proceeded to tap his shoulder again, this time a little more aggressively.

"Five more minutes," Draco croaked, his raspy morning voice sending shivers down your spine. Ignoring the sensation, you nudged his body impatiently. It was then when he finally opened his eyes.

"I said five more—" Upon sight of your unamused glare looking down on him, he immediately shot up, eyes wide as he got up from his chair.

Glancing at him suspiciously, you cocked an eyebrow at his behaviour. "What were you doing here?" you asked, desperate to know the answer before your delusional mind took over.

Draco diverted his gaze to the floor, rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably as he scrambles to find a reasonable excuse. "Flint told me to stay here. As, uh... punishment! Yeah, a punishment."

Since when was he ever nervous around me? "Did he tell you to stay for the entire time?"

"Uh, yes—I mean, no, I just fell asleep on accident."

"Alright then," you mumbled awkwardly, playing with your fingers. You didn't know what else to say at the moment, and neither did he, judging by the way he still wouldn't make proper eye contact.

Clearing his throat, he hesitantly turned towards you. "Madam Pomfrey said you're free to go once you wake up. So, uh, I guess I'll head out now..."

And with that, he strode towards the door, leaving before you could even think to respond. While you got off the hospital bed and stretched your body, there was a nagging feeling you couldn't ignore, present ever since you caught sight of his heavy-eyed countenance on top of you.

Why is my heart beating this fast?

~~~

The next day, you were finally able to return to your classes. You felt bad when Madam Pomfrey told you it has been nearly two whole days before you woke up. Was Draco there for that long? You hoped this wouldn't end up being a ploy for him to acquire blackmail material. Strangely enough, you completely didn't doubt it.

Walking into the Grand Hall, you were met with the sight of an angry Draco speaking aggressively to the Slytherin table, only to receive puckish grins in response from them. Although the words were incoherent, you managed to catch one ominous line at the end.

"Don't speak of it to her."

It was at that moment when all eyes suddenly diverted to your frame. Draco sat back down upon noticing your presence, eating silently as he kept to himself.

"Hey Y/N!" Pansy shouted, patting the seat next to her for you to come to sit. "How's your head feeling?"

With a tired plop, you settled down and shoved a spoonful of eggs into your mouth. "Wonderful. Madam Pomfrey is a miracle worker."

As you spoke, you failed to notice the various teasing glances shot at the boy sitting across from you. But still, he merely kept his glance downwards, refusing to utter a word.

"How did it feel when you fell down?" Blaise asked, biting back his tongue in case a laugh threatens to emit. You paused your chewing, trying to recall the sensation.

"I don't remember. Right as I got hit I was knocked out, so the fall was mostly unconscious."

After sending conspicuous looks to each other, Pansy continued, "Do you recall, perhaps, hitting the ground at the end of the drop?"

"I don't think so?"

Before the pair can press further, a fist to the table interrupted them. With a murderous glare, Draco lifted his head and stared at the two Slytherins dead in the eye.

"Guys," he growled, earning nervous gulps from Blaise and Pansy, "cut it out. She fell, simple as that."

"Okay Drakey," Blaise muttered under his breath before him and Pansy burst into a fit of giggles. Rolling his eyes, Draco stormed off, presumably to head to class early. Although, the effort went in vain as the bell chimes shortly after his departure.

"You seriously don't remember anything after getting knocked out?" Pansy asked in a final attempt as you two stood up. You simply offered a shrug in response, wondering why they asked those questions when they saw everything. As you headed towards your class, a stubborn question remained in your head. Why did Draco storm off so angrily?

~~~

"Settle down, class, today we'll be learning about some more advanced potions."

There was a chorus of groans following Professor Snape's announcement—yours being particularly loud. You were always filled with worry whenever a potion of higher difficulty was to be attempted. To you, it was just another opportunity to make a fool out of yourself in front of your peers.

"Now, can anyone tell me what this potion is?" asked Snape, lifting the lid to reveal an intoxicating scent. Rather than eager hands shooting up, everyone slowly inched closer, desperate to get another whiff.

While you appeared to be in pure bliss, Draco took a couple of curious sniffs before leaning back in his seat with an expression of revulsion.

"Doesn't it smell wonderful?" Blaise sighed, addressing the moody boy by his left. Draco gave a slight scoff in response.

"Gross, no. It smells like whatever Y/N douses herself in every morning."

With a suspicious glance, Blaise sat back down. Soon, Professor Snape put the lid back on, and the rest of the students snapped out of their dreamy trance. It was then when Hermione raised her hand.

"Sir, it's Amortentia," she started, taking a small pause before continuing. "The most powerful love potion to exist. It causes the drinker to feel a powerful infatuation, and it smells different to each person, according to what attracts them."

Upon seeing the description confirmed with a nod from Snape, Draco's cheeks took on a prominent red shade. His friend had his mouth wide open, staring at the blond boy with a puckish sort of surprise.

"We do not speak of this," Draco muttered through gritted teeth. Blaise merely nodded in response, a teasing grin still visible on his face.

Before Snape could go on, a noisy Gryffindor spoke up from the corner, inciting a string of laughter with his comment.

"Malfoy, was that what possessed you to play Prince Charming out there? Or was it your own sheer will?"

It seemed it was only you left confused by the jibe. While you pondered over why Draco of all people was supposedly playing Prince Charming, the said boy glared at every giggling student. It was only until Professor Snape cleared his throat when the class went silent again.

"Today, we will be recreating this potion in groups of two. I'll allow you all to sort this amongst yourselves."

Thank god, you thought to yourself. The result was horrid last time you were forced into a pair with Draco. Looking towards your usual partner, Pansy, you frowned at the sight.

Pansy immediately went to Blaise, ignoring your curious gaze. Everybody had already gone with their usual picks in the class, leaving only Blaise's former partner alone with an angry expression.

Of fucking course, they left me with him.

Burrowing your head into your palms, you waited until a presence was felt next to you. Cautiously looking up, you were surprised with the sight of Draco's face merely inches away. He paused for a moment, staring deep into your irises before you broke the eye contact with an awkward cough to your left.

"So, uh, I guess we should start," Draco mumbled, pulling out his textbook and flipping to the instructions page. As you leaned in slightly to read the fine print, Draco found himself distracted by the smell of your hair.

It was the very same scent found earlier in the steam of Amortentia.

"Should I begin cutting the peppermint? Or do you think you're a better fit for the task?" you interrupted his thoughts with a faint snarl. His eyebrows furrowed at the comment before he remembered the events of the previous Potions class.

"Hey, I really am sorry—"

"Don't worry, you already apologized. I'm just being petty," you chuckled, patting his shoulder jokingly. However, Draco kept his gaze on you, staring with a solemn expression.

"It wasn't a proper apology if I acted like a git afterward. What I said was uncalled for, and frankly, I was just being jealous."

"You? Jealous? Very funny, Draco, but you don't have to lie to make me feel better," you sighed with a bitter smile, but he was quick to shake his head.

"I mean it!" he piped up, rubbing his neck with that same awkward look from the hospital wing. "You are absolutely brilliant at everything else. I guess it made me prideful to be more adept in this one class."

You stared at him with an unreadable expression. He paused, assuming you were weirded out by his words and thus went back to focusing on the textbook. Meanwhile, you felt a growing admiration for the boy.

"How about you cut the peppermint?" Draco said, offering a gentle smile.

"You're not afraid I'll mess it up?"

"You won't. I'll teach you how to do it."

The whole rivalry was momentarily forgotten as Draco guides your hands in cutting peppermint, spending the rest of the time in class with airy giggles and crimson cheeks.

~~~

Later that day, you decided to get some fresh air, opting to practice Quidditch for a while to clear your head. The entire day has been very puzzling to you. With Pansy and Blaise's strange questioning, Draco's odd behaviour, and the teasing comments suddenly directed towards him. You felt out of the loop, confused with everything despite only being gone for three days.

Something had to have happened while you were gone, and you were determined to find out. After blowing off some steam with your trusty broomstick, of course.

However, you were quick to realize you weren't the sole Slytherin there when a voice speaks up from behind you.

"Oh, Y/N? You've awoken?" said Marcus Flint, walking down the stands to approach your figure by the railing.

"Yeah, just yesterday. I came to catch up on the practice."

"Cool. How are you feeling?" he asked, briefly scanning your body only to find no visible bruises. You sent him a thumbs up in response, earning a sigh of relief from the Slytherin team captain.

"Ah, this could have been a lot worst. Thank god we still have one of our best Chasers."

You paused, eyes squinting as you let out a small chuckle. "What do you mean it could have been worst?"

"It was bad enough you got knocked out by a Bludger, but at least you never hit the ground. That would have been deadly," Flint explained with a playful tone. You simply stood in front of him with more confusion.

"How did I not hit the ground?"

"Wait, you don't remember?" he asked, emitting a loud chortle. "Oh god, it was the funniest thing ever! Draco flew past us so quickly just to catch you."

You found yourself taking on a red shade as you hear his words. Ignoring the burning sensation, you pressed further. "Draco caught me?"

"Yeah. Held you bridal-style and everything. Quite a charming fellow, isn't he?"

Failing to notice your wide-eyed expression, Flint continued with an amused tone. "Even after Madam Pomfrey arrived, he still wouldn't let go. Carried you to the hospital wing himself even though I told him to get back into the game. Poor boy even slept there."

At that point, your frame was motionless as you stared off into the distance. You had trouble grasping his words, believing what he says was really the truth, but his explanation seems to justify the teasing and odd looks from the morning.

As if a lightbulb went off in his head, Marcus Flint piped up once more with a sly grin. "I think Malfoy has a not-so-little crush on you."

"W-what?" you snapped out of your trance with a defensive look. "Draco doesn't like me!"

"Yeah, definitely, he only refused to leave your unconscious side because he sees you as a friend. His uncontrollable need to hold you was certainly platonic."

With a scowl on your face, you grabbed your broomstick while slinging your bag over your shoulder. "I need to talk to him," you mumbled under your breath, storming off with determined strides.

You wanted answers. You needed answers. Because why in the hell would Draco care that much? He's never expressed the slightest bit of concern for you, so what's with the sudden change in behaviour?

He even had the nerve to lie and say Flint made him stay with you at the hospital wing.

You entered the castle with a glare capable to kill. Marching through the corridors, you made your way to the dungeons in record time.

"Draco Malfoy!" you shouted upon entering the portrait hole. A small crowd of onlookers formed at the sight of your furious arrival, though most lingering students seemed to file out instantaneously.

Scanning the common room with narrowed eyes, your eyes landed on the couches where a group of fifth years laid. Amongst them was Draco, sitting nonchalantly as if your call was left unheard.

Striding over there, you stood in front of the blond boy, arms lazily crossed. With an unreadable expression, Draco mumbled teasingly, "Yes?"

"Come with me, now."

"I don't know, I got quite comfortable here," he remarked with his usual smirk painting his face. You rolled your eyes, deciding on resorting to physical means rather than verbal negotiation.

Without further consideration, you grabbed Draco's arm and yanked him up. His eyes widened at the action, and before he could protest against the forcefulness, you dragged him out of the portrait hole and into the hallway.

"Where are you taking me?" he groaned as you pull him by the wrist towards the nearest exit. Once located, you yanked harder as you turned your direction. It was only when you two finally touched the grass that his wrist was released from your grip.

"What the hell Y/N?"

Instead of replying to his angry self, you stared at him, eyes holding a mixture of confusion and anger. "Why did you lie to me?"

"Lie?" Draco asked, his expression morphing into one of nervousness. "W-what do you mean lie?"

"You told me Flint made you stay at the hospital wing. As a punishment, remember?"

It was then when the colour drained from Draco's face. His lips parted slightly, shock evident in his widened eyes. With a tentative pause, he stammered, "He told you everything... didn't he?"

"Yeah, he did. Were you planning to stop being a coward and tell me, or keep quiet about it forever?"

It seemed as though your comment got to Draco since his anxious demeanour turned angry in nearly an instant. Stepping closer in an intimidating manner, he snapped, "Well what did you expect me to do?"

His fuming expression told you it wasn't a question needing an answer. Instead, you stayed still in anticipation of his next words.

"What the hell did you expect me to do? Watch as you fall to your death? Get back into the game after my heart gets physically ripped from my chest?"

There was a pause in his speech, where he scanned your face for traces of emotions within them. Then, he took your silence as permission to continue.

"I almost thought I lost you! I thought you were going to fucking die out there. So yeah, I apologize for not telling you how afraid I was. For not explaining how goddamn desperate I was to see you awake and healthy again that I'd stay in the hospital wing for days with no hesitation."

Draco's voice was rising with every syllable, to the point where he shouted this last statement. "Don't you get it? I'd do anything for you.

"Heck, I'm in love with you!"

It was then when his angry countenance wavered, and Draco repeated in a softer tone. "I'm so hopelessly in love with you, Y/N. I always have been."

Your stillness remained throughout his rant, though your face altered with shock and confusion upon his confession. He's in love with you. The notorious Draco Malfoy has admitted to being in love with you. You didn't know how to respond, but one thing kept repeating in your head; you most certainly felt the same way.

"Now, I don't expect my feelings to be reciprocated—" Draco was promptly cut off by you crashing into his arms, holding his frame tightly in a hug.

"But they are. Draco, I love you too," you replied, voice muffled by his chest. Although his face wasn't visible, you could practically feel the warmth of his smile radiating as he hesitantly wraps his arms around you.

However, before much time could be spent enjoying each other's embrace, a shout from the distance pulled you two out of your dreamlike trance.

"Ask her out already!"

Heads whipping to the side, the majority of the Slytherin fifth year population was made visible in their position by the entryway. As you two glared at the pesky onlookers, Blaise and Pansy held a sheepish grin in front of the crowd.

Rolling his eyes, Draco turned his attention back to you shortly after sending a less-than-friendly hand gesture towards them. "You know, I think I do have something to ask you."

"And what might that be?"

"Would you, Y/N L/N, do me the honour of accompanying me to Hogsmede next Saturday?"

"Of course, Draco Malfoy," you drawled through widened lips. The smile painting your face soon became replicated onto his as he became giddy at your reply, though quickly afterward, he went back to his usual stoicism. It was a poor attempt overall to hide his excitement.

Ignoring the loud cheers coming from not too far away, Draco kept his eyes locked on yours, the silence between you two broken when he mumbled, "I'll meet you by the portrait hall at 10. See you later?"

"Yeah, I'll see you later." Draco then took his exit, but not before landing a small peck on your forehead and turning away before his cheeks went visibly red.

As a small grin took over your expression, you stared at the retreating figure of Draco Malfoy. You couldn't help but think about how he used to be a mere petty rival. Now, he's the one person running through your mind at every waking moment, the one who turns you into a hopeless romantic.

And you wouldn't want it any other way.

——————————

a/n — Ah, this was definitely a fun one-shot to make. I love writing about a flustered/angry Draco! Please like, comment, and reblog to show support. Feel free to submit requests in my inbox or let me know how I did with this one. 💘

[maxwell-grant]

Having seen your thoughts on his deeply-unpleasant daddy, might I please ask if you have any thoughts on The Gladiator himself, Hugo Danner? (THE SUPERMAN WHO MIGHT HAVE BEEN, if you will).

What would you do if you were the strongest man in the world, the strongest thing in the world, mightier than the machine? He made himself guess answers for that rhetorical query. "I would—I would have won the war. But I did not. I would run the universe single-handed. Literally single-handed. I would scorn the universe and turn it to my own ends. I would be a criminal. I would rip open banks and gut them. I would kill and destroy. I would be a secret, invisible blight. I would set out to stamp crime off the earth; I would be a super-detective, following and summarily punishing every criminal until no one dared to commit a felony. What would I do? What will I do?"

The thing that strikes me about Gladiator is that it almost feels like the book is unfinished. The quality and pace of the book is all over the place, but you can boil it's general story down to "unlucky bastard is born Superman before it's time for Superman to exist, without the necessary support, mindset and structure to become Superman, in a world that neither supports nor accepts the existence Superman, and just as he's about to have the life-changing epiphany that could make him something, he gets struck by lightning and dies in the 2nd-to-last paragraph".

The whole book is like if in the first Spider-Man story Peter Parker just gave up after Uncle Ben died and we never saw him again. It's a superhero/supervillain origin story that gets cut short right as it's about to lead to the birth of the character proper. It's frustrating, yes, but to my scavenger goblin brain that likes to dig through pop culture's trash to find nice forgotten trinkets to polish and make into something new, it also invites a lot of promise, if we get into the question of what could have happened to Hugo Danner if he didn't die on the cusp of his origin story. It's an idea I plan to use for my own pulp writings.

It's not so much whether or not Hugo MIGHT have been Superman, so much as: COULD he be Superman? Maybe, maybe not. I'd argue not, because even with all his power, and even with his parents trying to raise him as best they could, even with Hugo genuinely trying his best to be good and heroic and turn his gifts to mankind, it wasn't gonna pan out. The right pieces weren't there, the family structure wasn't there, the necessary aspects of the origin story weren't there, and ultimately, Hugo Danner wasn't cut for it. He is a failure at everything he tries to be super at.

At college on the football field, he kills a man. As a soldier on the Great War, he slaughters thousands for years, but fails to end the war, despite having been able to do so from the moment he enlisted. He is fired from a steel mill for working too far beyond the abilities of his fellows, and then fired from a bank for freeing a man from a locked safe, because the bank president suspected that Danner planned to use his powers to rob the vault. He tries using his powers to enact social change and fails again and again. He can't even enjoy daily life, because he cannot compete fairly with ordinary people, and because of that he must constantly hold himself in check, never able to fully express himself. And when he's presented with the idea of creating a race of people like him to dominate the world and to “conquer and stamp out all these things to which men of intelligence object,” he finds it ultimately distasteful, because he knows better than to expect good things to come out of his life. And then he curses God and dies. The whole book is one long argument as to why Being Superman Sucks.

He's not the break from tradition that Superman represented, he's a sci-fi superman who met the same tragic ending his predecessors did. In that paragraph above, the very first thing he thinks about, after remarking over his failure to end the war, is thinking about becoming some galactic dictator murdering everyone who steps out of line, before he considers becoming a fascist super-detective. Kind of a damning perspective to present your hero, isn't it? If Gladiator was released today, exactly as is, people would be quick to assume it's an origin story for a Homelander/Plutonian/Omni-Man kind of character. Hugo Danner was a Superman deconstruction before that became a pop culture cliche.

My favorite sections of the book are those that describe Hugo in the war. By far the best-written and most evocative, almost bordering on horror story. And they may be the most damning sections of them all. He never forgives himself for not ending the war when he could, because he's spent all those years killing and toiling away when he was just about the one person who could conceivably leap all the way to Germany and force the war to end. I imagine a lot of pulp heroes who suffered in the war, or any war, and walked out of it with a resolve to protect and do good by others, would be pretty pissed when discovering that, all along, there was this living god among them who actually could have ended the war single-handedly, but was just too damn busy slaughtering his way through fields of people who couldn't possibly fight back, to think about it.

And for all that Hugo says that he hates war and murder and bloodshed, he sure seems like a total natural for it:

Hugo, out of his scarlet fury, had one glimpse of his antagonist's face and person. The glimpse was but a flash. He was a little man—a foot shorter than Hugo. His eyes looked out from under his helmet with a sort of pathetic earnestness. And he was worried, horribly worried, standing there with his rifle lifted and trying to remember the precise technique of what would follow even while he fought back the realization that it was hopeless.

In that split second Hugo felt a human, amazing urge to tell him that it was all right, and that he ought to hold his bayonet a little higher and come forward a bit faster. The image faded back to an enemy. Hugo acted mechanically from the rituals of drill. His own knife flashed. He saw the man's clothes part smoothly from his bowels, where the point had been inserted, up to the gray-green collar. The seam reddened, gushed blood, and a length of intestine slipped out of it.

Hugo stepped over him. He was trembling and nauseated. The bellow of battle returned to Hugo's ears. He pushed back the threatening rifle easily and caught the neck in one hand, crushing it to a wet, sticky handful. So he walked through the trench, a machine that killed quickly and remorselessly

Hugo was learning about war. He thought then that the task which he had set for himself was not altogether to his liking. There should be other and more important things for him to do. He did not like to slaughter individuals. The day passed like a cycle in hell. No change in the personnel except that made by an occasional death. No food. No water. They seemed to be exiled by their countrymen in a pool of fire and famine and destruction.

And then later, after they kill a friend of his

He leaped to the parapet, shaking his fists. "God damn you dirty sons of bitches. I'll make you pay for this. You got him, got him, you bastards! I'll shove your filthy hides down the devil's throat and through his guts". He did not feel the frantic tugging of his fellows. He ran into that bubbling, doom-ridden chaos, waving his arms and shouting maniacal profanities. A dozen times he was knocked down. He bled slowly where fragments had battered him. He crossed over and paused on the German parapet. He was like a being of steel. Barbed wire trailed behind him.

Bayonets rose. Hugo wrenched three knives from their wielders in one wild clutch. His hands went out, snatching and squeezing. That was all. No weapons, no defence. Just—hands. Whatever they caught they crushed flat, and heads fell into those dreadful fingers, sides, legs, arms, bellies. Bayonets slid from his tawny skin, taking his clothes. By and by, except for his shoes, he was naked. His fingers had made a hundred bunches of clotted pulp and then a thousand as he walked swiftly forward in that trench. Ahead of him was a file of green; behind, a clogged row of writhing men. Scarcely did the occupants of each new traverse see him before they were smitten. The wounds he inflicted were monstrous. On he walked, his voice now stilled, his breath sucking and whistling through his teeth, his hands flailing and pinching and spurting red with every contact. No more formidable engine of desolation had been seen by man, no more titanic fury, no swifter and surer death. For thirty minutes he raged through that line. The men thinned. He had crossed the attacking front.

A man dipped in scarlet, nude, dripping, panting. Slowly in that hiatus he wheeled. His lungs thundered to the French. "Come on, you black bastards. I've killed them all. Come on. We'll send them down to hell."

And years later, when he's thinking back to the misery that had been his life:

His deeds frightened men or made them jealous. When he conceived a fine thing, the masses, individually or collectively, transformed it into something cheap. His fort in the forest had been branded a hoax. His effort to send himself through college and to rescue Charlotte from an unpleasant life had ended in vulgar comedy. Even that had been her triumph, her hour, and an incongruous strain of greatness had filtered through her personality rather than his. Now his years in the war were reduced to no grandeur, to a mere outlet for his savage instinct to destroy. After such a life, he reflected, he could no longer visualize himself engaged in any search for a comprehension of real values.

If he could but have ended the war single-handed, it might have been different. But he was not great enough for that. He had been a thousand men, perhaps ten thousand, but he could not be millions. He could not wrap his arms around a continent and squeeze it into submission. There were too many people, and they were too stupid to do more than fear him and hate him. Sitting there, he realized that his naïve faith in himself and the universe had foundered. The war was only another war that future generations would find romantic to contemplate and dull to study. He was only a species of genius who had missed his mark by a cosmic margin.

Even when he's thinking about the places where he went wrong, that he blames himself for, even when's engaged in introspection, his thoughts still gravitate towards violence and hatred, of squeezing continents into submission and of how much the masses are stupid to not appreciate him (because really, all Hugo wants is to be loved and appreciated for what he is), and how unlucky he was to miss his mark.

There's just no place for Hugo Danner. Maybe it was actually rather merciful that he got to have his misery ended briefly by lightning strikes, before he could either turn into something worse, or have his life ruined more throughly.

[maddiebiscuits]

Personal Opinions on FFXIV Villains (in general order of appearance)

As a note, I will not be including any pre-A Realm Reborn villains (as I did not play the original Final Fantasy XIV) nor will I be including any one-off primals, raid bosses, etc. I will be trying to focus on villains as they appear in main or side storylines, in cut scenes, that have some over-arching influence on the story they participate in with something akin to a clear presence - Garleans, Ascians, and so on. Also SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS.

Rhitahtyn sas Arvina

Rhitahtyn gets the shaft out of Gaius’ three main players in A Realm Reborn. A conscript from a Empire-conquered land who rose to power and respect, directly honored by Gaius himself, and possessing an even temper and noble ambition really helped to level out Nero and Livia’s general nonsense. Unfortunately, Rhitahtyn is provided almost no screen-time, development or exploration, and as years have passed, his in-game 8-man trial can now be completed in a regular synced party in mere seconds. He deserved a lot better than what he got, yet remained too sidelined to really leave me feeling invested in wanting to see what sort of story this character could be used to tell.

Livia sas Junius

When first playing through A Realm Reborn my feelings on Livia were...tepid, but optimistic. Of Gaius’ three main players, Livia was easily the most active and ruthless, lacking the shady “long game” and self-serving ambitions of Nero or the more honorable, measured personality of Rhitahtyn. Suffice to say, the dawning (and then confirmed) realization that Livia’s sole motivation seeing the plan of the man she loved through to completion by any means, to the point of tunnel-visioned, murderous intent, was...disappointing. Add to that Livia was raised by Gaius in her backstory, the man being a father figure to her, and the romance motivation becomes even more unhinged (especially since it is largely considered to be a reciprocated romance, at least physically, by Gaius - barf)

Nero tol Scaeva

Nero has become a fan favourite character over the years, thanks to his continued development into Cid’s boyfriend foil rather than outright villain of the main storyline. This development was easy to spot early enough though, as it was clear Nero’s fealty to Gaius was largely self-serving. He didn’t care much about conquering Eorzea or felling primals/eikons - he just wanted to show that he possessed the brilliance to build weapons capable of doing so. His speech/squabble with Cid during the Praetorium sequence paints that picture even more clearly if the players missed the not-so-subtle implications for Nero’s character already. The man lived, breathed and seethed with inferiority when compared to Cid, and in the end he did ultimately prove his engineering mastery, even if the Warrior of Light took it (and him) down. Ultimately though, Nero serves as a much better supporting and “redeemed” character than a villain, so I do have to rank him pretty low.

Gaius van Baelsar

Aside from whatever...weird...thing was going on between him and Livia (again - barf), Gaius in A Realm Reborn was a pretty solid villain, with clear-cut motivations that I actually understood, and begrudgingly agreed with to a small extent. As legatus, Gaius was still the tyrannical arm of the Garlean Empire, but a level-headed one who was more interested with the purging of the primal/eikon threat from Eorzea than subjugating other peoples. Further development of this character into something of an anti-hero and glimpses of how other characters viewed him in flashbacks in later expansions ends up providing his A Realm Reborn rendition with more strength in retrospect. The heads of the three city-states deciding to accept Gaius off to willingly join the Empire is a pretty good sticking point for the validity of his plan as well. Ultima Weapon is...you know, pretty impossible for Ul’dah, Gridania and Limsa Lominsa to face down if they refuse, but more enticing is its ability to, indeed, single-handedly defeat primals/eikons - something the city-states desperately need at their disposal, having been plagued by such threats constantly, for years and years.

Gaius cuts a pretty direct swath to the truth of the Twelve as well - they’re no different than the primals/eikons he seeks to eradicate, and the more stock Eorzeans put into them, the more empowered they become should someone ever try to summon one, making Eorzeans no better than the beastmen and their ‘gods’. Join the Empire and have protection from such powers, and put faith into the leadership of man, versus that of fictional deities that can be given terrifying form...in the world of Final Fantasy XIV, that’s not a terrible proposition. But it would still subject thousands of people to the Empire’s tyranny, so even if Gaius has the oft-coveted ‘Point’ that most villains wish they had, he still must be stopped. Eorzea will simply find other ways to endure the primal/eikon threat rather than bend the knee, and I like that defiant angle the Warrior of Light represents to counter Gaius’ character. Also, Ascian meddling and Hydaelyn shenanigans, sure, but I don’t feel that takes away from the core conflict that Gaius presents. He was a good villain, and I’m happy to see him return and go through the motions of penance for his past deeds and aid the supporting cast now, elevating him even higher into a good character, in general.

Lahabrea

I admit I have a soft spot for Lahabrea, only because he seems to be a universal punching bag for heroes and villains alike in Final Fantasy XIV. He lacks the more subdued, long-term planning of Elidibus or the explored nuance and sympathy of Emet-Selch - he’s sort of the odd one out between the trifecta that make up the unsundered Ascians. Just a blindly-tempered zealot of Zodiark, seemingly more enthused by the ancient primal’s return than the promise of the world being set back to how it was before The Final Days. Even the other Ascians don’t seem to like Lahabrea that much - Elidibus seems keenly aware that Lahabrea has gone off the deep end, constantly needing reminders and wrangling-in to keep the plan in motion. But I will admit, he serves his purpose well enough, and the additional side-story that reveals that Lahabrea was a brilliant scholar unmatched in the Amaurotine field of ‘phantom creation’ was a nice touch to explain why he’s pretty dang good at getting people to try and summon primals and conjuring or corrupting monsters himself. By no effort of Square Enix themselves, I sort of feel bad for the guy. He really was just Doing His Best, and getting no respect for it. His end was also anti-climatic, but by the time it happened, there were far more interesting characters and stories to tell, and he was unnecessary - it was just better this way, Lahabrea.

Nabriales

This one-bit player served one substantial purpose, and it was to see an Ascian get obliterated permanently and thus provide the means and understanding to battle Ascians in the future. Except that the cost to do so was a throw-away villain, a throw-away damsel-in-distress 8-man trial, and turning Moenbrya, a character with a lot of potential to be great, into a throw-away character who has to make an untimely sacrifice because the script says so. Nabriales you’re boring, you’re bad, you’re a waste of time and your mutton chops are dumb as hell.

Ilberd Feare

You know what, I like this villain. I absolutely want to punch his face in, but I figure getting that sort of rise out of me on sight is intended, since, you know: villain. His motivations aren’t bad either, even if his methods are deplorable. The speech he gives at the very end of A Realm Reborn to rile up Raubahn is pretty effective too. Despite both being refugees of Ala Mhigo, Raubahn fought his way to wealth and status, and Ilberd was never afforded that chance, or at least never quite managed. Raubahn pledged himself more to Ul’dah and the Immortal Flames with his new privileges, however, and Ilberd was perhaps right to resent that, with Ala Mhigo still under the yoke of the Empire, and so many refugees left to flounder in The Black Shroud and Thanalan both, Raubahn seemingly unwilling to step in. Ilberd saw the opportunity to change the status quo and took it, and proceeded to rally others to reclaim Ala Mhigo. If the city-states would not help, then they would be forced to help, and for all his dirty tactics, punch-able face and Shinryu-summoning finale, Ilberd’s plan did work: he forced the hand of the city-states to fight against the Empire to reclaim Ala Mhigo, and did indeed remind Raubahn and other passive Ala Mhigans that there was still an important job to do. So, good job Ilberd. Gold star. Now perish.

Teledji Adeledji

I thought the politics at the very end of A Realm Reborn were intriguing, and Teledji’s heel-turn pretty fun, since of all the Monetarists, he seemed to be painted as the most reasonable. Though I found his game plan a bit...suspect. Yes, a poisoned goblet assassination attempt on the Sultana that he could frame on someone else, while usurping control of the Crystal Braves so he could make a bid for full Monetarist control of Ul’dah (with him at the helm) makes sense on paper, but I’m not sure why he sought to frame the Warrior of Light for it, and implicate the Scions either. While it’s true that the Warrior and the Scions would be an obstacle and want to investigate the death, and would prove tenacious foes, if you think about the scenario a bit more, it seems unnecessary. The Warrior and Scion efforts were likely going to start swinging towards Ishgard and the Dragonsong War, to better embellish the northern city-state’s relations with the Eorzean Alliance, nor are the Warrior or Scions people you’d want to make an enemy, especially with the Warrior being one of the only people who can defeat primals (a very active threat in Thanalan).

Framing Lolorito would have been a wiser idea, as he was already disliked and untrustworthy in the eyes of many, powerful and dangerous to compete with though he is. If Lolorito had been framed, Raubahn and the Scions may not have questioned it, and Teledji could have enjoyed planting himself in the eye of the power vacuum that was to come while the Warrior of Light focused their energy up north. Instead, Teledji bet on the wrong chocobo and paid dearly for it - his plan fell apart (and so did he) in more ways than he could anticipate, but on the whole? This was a pretty intriguing and entertaining storyline, I enjoyed it.

Lady Iceheart / Ysayle Dangoulain

I debated putting Ysayle on this list because by the first act of Heavensward, she’s not a villain - but, she certainly was in A Realm Reborn and going into Heavensward, so we might as well just keep representing how good Heavensward is and include her here. Aside from Minfillia, this is one of the only ever characters you meet early(ish) who shares The Echo with the Warrior of Light. Unlike Minfillia or the Warrior, though, Ysayle doesn’t really adhere to the call of Hydaelyn. Instead, her powers allowed her to hear and learn the truth of Ishgard’s history: that it was a lie, and that King Thordan broke the peace in a bid for power for Ishgard, turning Nidhogg to rage and setting the Dragonsong War into motion. Having witnessed Ishgard’s cruelty at a young age when her home was destroyed by snow and ice after the Seventh Umbral Calamity, and knowing what she knew and maintaining close bonds with dragons throughout her life, it’s sort of easy to see why Ysayle would be set upon the path she is. She wishes to end the war much like how Thordan does: ending it, with the dragons as the victors.

Her slap in the face is when she confronts Hraesvelgr though, her bid to sort of not only take the form of Saint Shiva but embody her memory being dismissed as a pale imitation. Saint Shiva wished for true peace, whereas Ysayle demands it through bloodshed - she realizes this, and changes her current course. This is why I debated to list her as a villain, because her gradual change into a supporting character and hero is a logical conclusion as she and Heavensward’s story develops. She starts a villain and dies a hero.

Igeyorhm

Full disclosure: I completely forgot this character existed. And I still don’t actually know why they exist. They’re a second to Lahabrea during the events of Heavensward, and is easily shut down by the Warrior of Light before being annihilated permanently by Thordan. Despite this, I don’t find their existence as offensive as Nabriales’, so...that counts for something.

Archbishop Thordan VII

When I first encountered Thordan (”pope grandpa”, if you will), I thought “oh, he’s evil”, because “church bad” isn’t exactly and uncommon trope and it’s apparent that Ishgard is a broken and unjust society, with this man sitting at the highest seat of power and consorting with Ascians. Yet to my surprise Thordan was...pretty reasonable. At least to start. He makes his audience with the Ascians known and seems unaffected by them and their schemes, is polite and cordial to the Warrior of Light...he doesn’t seem so bad. But the gut feeling remains, and slowly builds as Thordan’s true plan is revealed, becoming a primal-esque deity. And much like Nidhogg, I do get his motivations. Trying to broker peace with the dragons, to him, is just not going to happen - in fact, it’s insulting to ask dragons and Ishgardians both to make a bid for it, when so many people have died and live with the burden of hatred and grief. His solution is more direct: end the war entirely, by winning it for Ishgard.

After assuming his new form and powers, him and his Heavensward have the power to thwart any dragons that oppose them, perhaps even Nidhogg himself if the dreadwrym were to re-appear. Fueled by the generations’-worth of prayers from the Ishgardian population, Thordan was set on ending the war and ousting the dragons from the land, ushering in peace and prosperity. But the Ishgard he sought to protect and defend was built on a history spun of bloodshed and lies, and the dragons were not the true enemy and did not deserve to be put to the sword. Thordan’s plan would have worked in the way he envisioned it, and he made a good argument for it, even if it was ultimately wrong, and that’s a good villain.

Nidhogg

Having come to Final Fantasy XIV from World of Warcraft, a giant, scary black dragon that rants on and on about suffering and misery and pain and vengeance was something of a red flag for a Very Bad Story. Imagine my surprise when Nidhogg was given the screen-time to be properly fleshed out and explored, his motivations and hatred more sympathetically-human than his giant dragon body would have one believe, his presence menacing and well-paced, and his overall being representing the true, dark heart of the Dragonsong War: the cycle of hatred. For dragons, centuries are like days, and the pain Nidhogg feels is no less than what he felt when the Ishgardians brutally broke their pact. Because of this, with each re-emergence of him and his brood, the wheel of suffering turns anew, breathing new hate-filled life into the ongoing Dragonsong War, generation to generation. Time has no effect on his turmoil, and his existence ensures that no other Ishgardians will ever be able to move on from the war either, even as generations continue on.

I find Estinien being consumed by Nidhogg’s rage very thematic as well, Estinien truly embodying the countering hatred the Ishgardians feel towards the dragons, and it makes the final trial with Nidhogg bittersweet. He defeats Hraesvelgr, because as long as Nidhogg exists even the brightest hope for peace will be squashed under the cycle of malice and war. The Warrior of Light must put him down because he cannot be saved - but Estinien still can, and can choose to move on and pursue the peace that Nihogg strived to prevent and Ysayle died to see come to fruition. And he does, and it’s touching, and Heavensward is SO FUCKING GOOD I LOVE THIS EXPANSION.

Quickthinx Allthoughts

I don’t care much for timey-wimey storylines, but I found the Alexander plot easy enough to follow, and the timeloop it creates to be manageable. The truth about the Enigma Codex and the journal Quickthinx has isn’t exactly hard to figure out though once time travel becomes a part of the plot, and beyond beind a fun goblin with a cute kitty cat friend...there’s just not much in the way of compelling character writing here for this gobbo.

Diabolos

Big ancient demon is revived and wants to wreak havoc. Uninspiring, but its also not necessary for Diabolos to be anything more than what he is either. The heart of the Void Ark storyline is the tribulations of Cait Sith, the sky pirates and the history of the Mhachi, Diabolos just being an excuse to explore those characters and lore.

Regula van Hydrus

Regula deserved better damnit. This is the last Garlean villain with nuance and humanity before Stormblood turns everyone who is so much as associated with the Garlean Empire into a cartoonishly-evil, absolutely twisted, reprehensible confusing mess of a person.

Fordola rem Lupis

Stormblood has a lot of story, pacing and character problems. A lot. It has its moments and some people love this expansion, but I do not and its villains are a very large reason why that is. Fordola, for example, had the potential to be quite interesting. She was raised to believe in what her father did: that Gaius and the Empire were not all bad, and then watched her father die trying to protect her from angry, almost barbaric Ala Mhigans who decided that pelting a little girl with rocks because her parents were Empire-sympathizers and supporters was an okay thing to do (as the Garlean soldiers just watched on and let it happen without intervening because they didn’t feel like it - a fact that Fordola knows and remembers). You would think this event would have a sort of polarizing effect on her, feeling betrayed by both her people and the Empire her father believed in, feeling caught in the middle, in need of finding her identity and sense of self. Instead she...basically throws her entire stock in with the Empire, deciding that if she’s a good little soldier for the Empire, then Garleans will have to change their minds about Ala Mhigans and respect them because, see, look: an Ala Mhigan is a respected Garlean asset.

Except this backfires over, and over, her Ala Mhigan team nothing more than vicious dogs that never bite the hand that feeds them, turning their teeth on their own people instead. Fordola is constantly belittled and ridiculed for her heritage and even her gender by the Garleans, and at no point does she ever stop and go “wow maybe the Empire sucks hot ass and I’ve been terribly wrong about my motives this whole time”. And yet, no...Zenos offers her power in some magitek-aether experiment, she kills her own Skulls team, she finished the expansion jailed for her crimes, believing until the very end that the Garleans will win (they did not). She utilizes her anti-primal abilities once, and vanishes from the plot entirely, only to re-appear in a bad side-story where the Immortal Flames have her hooked up to some penalty-of-death submission collar so she doesn’t act out so they can use her synthetic Echo abilities to fight a re-summoned Ifrit.

Bad character, bad writing, and a waste of her new, game-changing anti-primal abilities.

Grynewaht pyr Arvina

This is such...a stupid character. His design, his voice and dialogue...I can’t tell what Grynewaht is supposed to be. Is he comedic relief? Because he’s not funny. Is he a character that you’re supposed to pity or despise? Because I felt nothing towards him. Is he supposed to be a rival? Because...no. I had to look up what his name was. The only thing I can clearly remember about him is that he was the final boss of the Doma Castle 4-man dungeon. That’s it. If you removed him from the plot entirely, nothing of value would be lost.

Yotsuyu goe Brutus

Between the two female villains of Stormblood, Yotsuyu is the more popular. It’s easy to see why: she has a cool design and a lot more screen-time and development, with a big 8-man trial to finish things off. But like Fordola, something is just off about her writing.

I don’t understand her motives or how she even came to feel the way she does about Doma, specificially. And anything bad that could happen to her, has happened to her. She suffered an abusive childhood under her adoptive parents, was sold off to an abusive husband, then sold off again to a brothel after her husband died to repay his debts. She later became a spy for the Garleans, rose in rank and was appointed acting viceroy of Doma, to keep the masses terrified and under her heel. At first, it seems pretty reasonable for her to turn against Doma, and lash out as she does on its people - her Doman upbringing left her used, abused and powerless, and with the Garleans she found power and strength. But this reading falls apart when you quickly realize that Doma was already occupied by the Garleans during the course of her upbringing, her family obedient to the Empire and her suffering just as much the fault of the Garleans. There’s an argument to also be made that not enough time was really spent portraying Doma as the disgusting place Yotsuyu sees it, as from the onset of Stormblood’s story journey into the Far East, Domans are only ever portrayed as a terrified, broken people, scared of the Garleans and Yotsuyu. I also don’t personally care for “character was abused, so now they’re sadistic and crazy” clichés either.

What does work well for Yotsuyu is the theme of power and control. Yotsuyu is a woman who lived a life not her own, weak and frail, until she obtained power. Now that she has it, her drive is to do anything to maintain it and survive - yet for some reason the story is written in such a way as to downplay this much stronger theme of her character, and play up this slightly confusing, all-consuming hatred for Doma instead. Her transformation into Tsukiyomi is also a bit odd (though decently thematic, with her ‘cold, uncaring and distant as the moon’ comparison), with not enough time paid to explore her understanding of Doman deities and why the mirror would trigger this change (and why would she even keep Doman deities in her mind, with her supposed hatred of Doma?)

I also take some issue with her “Tsuyu” arc, where she reverts back to the last time she was ever truly good or innocent, and has the personality of a child while still being an adult woman (and suffering amnesia). I find these infantilizing tropes pretty offensive, especially when Yotsuyu’s arc here is largely just to reinforce and reiterate what cartoonishly terrible people her family were, and provide Gosetsu with some development instead. Aside from killing Asahi and having a cathartic death herself, everything about Yotsuyu just baffles me. Every time I think I like something about her, athe bad writing twists it around.

Zenos yae Galvus

I don’t like Zenos, he’s a bad character, and I hate that Square Enix decided this limp-haired sullen-faced clown was going to be their poster-boy villain for Final Fantasy XIV.

What is the appeal of this character? Yeah, some people find him attractive. I don’t, but I also didn’t find Sephiroth attractive so, okay, whatever - like what you like I guess. But what else does Zenos have going on besides people seeming to think he’s their buff bishonen thicc daddy or whatever the kids are saying these days? His entire character can be summed up in one sentence:

“While the Warrior of Light was practicing empathy, Zenos studied The Blade.”

He’s a Garlean lordling with a bland and cold upbringing who likes katanas and blood sport. That’s it. He’s a sociopath, finding no joy or meaning in life for whatever reason: he just wants to collect Cool Swords and push his bizarre love-hate fight narrative on the Warrior of Light. Because they are opposites, you see: the Warrior of Light is a cardboard cut out of a Good Guy and Zenos is a cardboard cut out of a Bad Guy. He’s not even entertaining about it. He doesn’t want to watch the world burn, he just wants to fight the Warrior because the battle will make him Feel Something. Meanwhile, all I feel whenever I see him in-game, either in a cut-scene or when I’m locked in an unskippable “survive the drawn-out battle!” sequence with him, is a groan coming on. And sometimes villains who are evil just for the sake of it can be fun! But Zenos is not fun - he’s dull, he doesn’t get me hyped up for a fight...I feel nothing.

When he died after using his uber-synthetic Echo to possess Shinryu by taking his own life I thought, “well, at least that’s over” and I felt relieved. And then he came back, bigger and worse than ever! Yippee! I love confusing, unrelatable, boring villains who are recurring. Whatever Square Enix wants to do with Zenos, they need to hurry up and get it done. I care so little about him and just want to explore other stories and characters. I’m assuming he’s going to like, possess Zodiark or something, and then the Warrior will possess Hydaelyn, and there will be some big anime light fight showdown where Zodiark and Hydaelyn both shatter for good and Zenos dies and the Warrior lives another day and uuuugggghhh. How the hell did an expansion like Stormblood follow up Heavensward? Who let this happen?

Asahi sas Brutus

Bowl-cut twink hates his sister because he’s a Zenos fanboy and is angry Yotsuyu got all of Zenos’ attention instead of him. Filled with spite and piss, cartoonishly evil just like everyone associated with Yotsuyu or the Empire in Stormblood. Rest in pieces you little shit.

Varis zos Galvus

I’m lukewarm on Varis. He’s a better villain than Zenos, but that’s like saying a flat three-day-old glass of soda is better than sewage water. The bar is set very, very low. He’s ruthless, but not entirely unfair in his thought processes. Hell, he doesn’t even seem to like his own son (and really, if Zenos was my kid, I wouldn’t like him either). But Varis is a bit too...static, in my opinion. He doesn’t feel like a major player, and his batshit “let’s all just burn so the world resets and we can stick it to the Ascians” is pretty asinine and plays so transparently into the Ascian’s hands. I was originally bummed that Zenos killed him pretty unspectacularly, but...like with Lahabrea, it was probably better this way. 

Omega

I don’t have much to say about this villain, really. The heart of the Omegascape storyline hinges on Cid, Nero, Alpha and the abstract concept of free will and accepting imperfection. It’s almost hard to say if Omega really is a villain, simply acting out a series of programs and statistics in a cold, robotic way, not really with malicious intent, so I think where Omega sort of shines is just as a being to build this sort of story off of, and provide a lot of fun boss fights as well. 

Ran’jit

I had no strong opinions on Ran’jit for a long time, so I guess he improved for me as I now have An Opinion of him. He’s fine. He’s an okay villain. His Zenos-esque “survive the timer” encounters are annoying, but I find his persistence and presence more inspiring than any time crummy ol’ Zenos showed up. The biggest issue with Ran’jit is the lack of time devoted to developing him. This is a man who lost his home in the Flood of Light (which was the First’s equivalent to the Source’s Far East), and has essentially trained and raised numerous Minfillia reincarnations to battle Sin Eaters, just to watch these poor girls he saw as his own daughters die and die and die again. That cycle of loss would break down anyone, and make Vauthry’s postulations of paradise in Eulmore until the end finally comes appealing. Ran’jit pursues the Scions and Minfillia/Ryne not because he’s resolute in following orders, but because he just wants to bring this one psuedo-daughter back and keep her safe - something he could never do for the others who came and went in his tenure.

Naturally, this protectiveness leads to giving in to Vauthry’s nihilistic promises and stifles Minfillia/Ryne as a person. Thancred eventually learns to let the Minfillia he knew go so that Ryne could floruish into her own person - she was not ‘his’ Minfillia and it was terrible of him to ever impose that upon her. But where Thancred can move on and let Ryne develop into the wonderful person she is, Ran’jit cannot. And I’m disappointed this aspect of his character couldn’t be more at the forefront of his narrative.

Vauthry

If you ask me, this is more in line with how I figured Zenos might be. Vauthry lived a life or privilege and power, a child born of divine providence with no true regard for life, just his own desires. He’s spoiled and unreasonable, but his nihilism isn’t really nonsensical in the world of the First. All but a fraction of the world is destroyed, and Sin Eaters are a constant, devastating threat, so why not just relax in luxury, in the safety of Vauthry’s control over the monsters, and live in peace until the world truly ends? The battle against the Sin Eaters is exhausting and has no hope of victory anyway (until the Warrior of Light/Darkness arrives, that is). Even without the meol subplot, it makes sense why so many would flock to Eulmore once Vauthry takes over. Goofy as he can be, I do think Vauthry’s embodiment of just giving in to nihilism, hedonism and annihilation stands as a good thematic contrast to Shadowbringers strong themes of stubbornly striving for hope in even the darkest, bleakest hour. His trial is also fun and a slight swerve. All the Light Wardens up to that point had been monstrous, and Sin Eater transformations the thing of nightmares (Tesleen), so to see Vauthry take on the form of Innocence (ironically appropriate, as he truly believes he is blameless in all he has done) and become a golden-haired, angelic being of beauty - how he likely has always seen himself - is very entertaining, and defeating him feels great.

Emet-Selch / Solus zos Galvus / Hades

Ah yes. The Big One. Most people like Emet-Selch and his involvement in Shadowbringers. He’s sardonic, he’s entertaining, he’s honest, he’s explored, and he’s even sympathetic. The revelation of how Zodiark (and Hydaelyn) came to be, Amaurot and The Final Days is truly tragic. Emet and the rest of the Convocation were trying to save their world, and the cost was staggering - the lives of so many of their own, their minds, and eventually even their own world in the Amaurotine schism that followed. Being able to see a shadow of what Amaurot and its people were like really helps drive home the sorrow of it all, and Emet himself admits that he did try to learn to appreciate what the fragmented world had become. He’s also one of the most “successful” villains in Final Fantasy XIV - his intertwined association with death and masterful ability to raise up and lead empires like the ancient Allagans and modern Garleans to their self-destructing, Calamity-inducing downfalls (of which he was almost successful did with Varis and the Black Rose in the latter’s case) is pretty impressive as far as villainous plans and activity is concerned. Being forced to work alongside him in Shadowbringers because your goals are aligned while attempting to guard yourself from his inevitable schemes - which he’s pretty blunt about admitting he has - is an interesting way to develop him as a villain too. He spends most of Shadowbringers actually helping you rather than outright antagonizing you.

His conundrum is sympathetic as well, if not entirely relatable. If you had the ability to bring back your world, your friends and loved ones, at the cost of countless lives that are trivial in the grand scheme of the cosmos and start again, anew, in a better world that could repair and rebuild, would you do it? Tempered by Zodiark or not, Emet would, and while I don’t agree with him, I don’t entirely blame him either, for feeling how he does. Similar to Ran’jit and Vauthry too, Emet is nihilistic: he clings to something long-gone and will burn the current world down to get it back. To him, the Rejoining and Zodiark’s return is inevitable, and people like the Warrior of Light/Darkness are futile, frustating obstacles that cannot understand not only his plans, but just how he feels. They don’t remember what they lost. Emet does.

And yet in his final moments, Emet seems at peace. He seems to realize, as he is fading into oblivion, that the Warrior of Light/Darkness isn’t just the reincarnation of Azem, but what Azem believed in that made Azem part from the Convocation. Fractured life is still life, and Azem believed that the world and its beings was worth learning about, loving and protecting, capable of great things even when faced with insurmountable odds. The last act of good will Emet can do after requesting that the Warrior not forget about Amaurot, is to free the Warrior from Elidibus’ binds so that the last unsundered Ascian can be put to rest at last. It’s a very emotional throughline for Emet’s character, rather than a more logical one, but it works very, very well and really helps push Shadowbringers into that amazing high its story can get to.

Elidibus

I never liked Elidibus all that much for the longest time. It’s not that his character was “bad’, per se - he’s polite, diplomatic, and enigmatic, providing a much more leveled, intriguing villain to counter-act Lahabrea’s more active plays and cackling. But Elidibus’ long game always left me sort of wanting: I was never really sure what he was trying to accomplish expansion to expansion and how it related to the Rejoining that would bring about Zodiark. His plans also seemed to just regularly...fall through. Sending the Warriors of Darkness to antagonize the Warrior of Light in the Source ended up bringing about the halt of the Flood of Light on the First entirely. Picking up Zenos’ body and squashing Garlemald uprisings while nudging Varis to make and use the Black Rose was promptly halted by the true Zenos making an unspectacular return. I don’t know, I just feel like any plan Elidibus sets into motion gets stopped before it really gets started.

My opinion of him did change, however, during the course of the Shadowbringers expansion. Being the heart of Zodiark, manifesting as the First’s...uhh, first, Warrior of Light, summoning them from across the other shards to wreak havoc and empower himself, only to finally be put out of his misery not just be the true Warrior of Light/Darkness, but Emet-Selch’s last act of will and revealing that he had been an over-working, sad youth who just wanted to save the world he knew was...well, sad. And his first (and last) real gameplay with the various hero summonings was a pretty amazing set piece too, though it also tells me how devastating Elidibus could have been earlier on if he’d taken a more pro-active approach, access to the Crystal Tower notwithstanding.

Valens van Varro

Much like how I wanted to punch Ilberd, because Ilberd is a deplorable person but an effective villain with decent motivations, Valens is just...I just want to punch him, in general. He’s just Disgusting On Purpose. And since we still haven’t shaken Stormblood’s insistence that Garleans are Evil So Evil Oh My God Evil You Guys they’re trotted out a demented borderline sex-offender who forces his child wards to brand subjects who are out of line with red-hot irons. Valens is...entertaining, I guess, in that regard. And Valens does serve as an appropriate counter-part to Gaius in this storyline, the themes of which seem to largely deal with fatherhood and penance for past misdeeds. I just...really miss Garlean villains with nuance.

Fandaniel

Oh god damnit Asahi is back. Square Enix stop doing this, stop bringing back bad characters. Though it is unfair to say Fandaniel is anything like Asahi. Oh sure, he’s using Asahi’s body (and therefore the Brutus’ family inheritance to fund his machinations), he fawns over Zenos, and he’s cartoonishly evil, but at least this go around there’s a certain...goofy charm to it. Fandaniel is a sundered Ascian - he doesn’t care about the Rejoining or Zodiark, he’s aware that he’s a broken being and he is, quite frankly, loving it. He lays his intent out pretty plainly to the Warrior of Light/Darkness: he’s evil, he loves destruction, and he’s doing it because that’s just what he feels like doing. Don’t reason with him, don’t try to understand him, just fight back and cry about it. On some basic level I appreciate that brutal honesty, so much so that I’m comfortable writing my thoughts about him now because I don’t think they’re going to change. What you see is what you get with Fandaniel, and he’s just having such a good time. He’s a terribly-written villain but gosh darnit I just can’t bring myself to hate him.