#there would be so many plot points to iron out here

[stgroversfire]

im a nie hauisang chief cultivator believer but i have au worms

hanguang jun becomes chief cultivator, many benefactors of jin guangyao see lwj as the guy that ruined everything, which results in the occasional attempt on his life, mostly by people too stupid to realize how out of their depth they are

cue wei ying with his little fledgling core and demonic cultivation taking it upon himself to be lwj's bodyguard. lwj sees no issue in this- if wwx is determined to stick by his side, that only makes it easier for lwj to keep an eye on him, and protect him in turn.

it's mostly goofy and fun until an actual threat appears, and wwx doesn't understand why lwj is suddenly very against the whole bodyguard thing. this almost certainly results in lwj terrified that wwx is going to die again, and BAMF wwx using his now decently strong core and maybe a little bit of demonic cultivation to flatten their enemies. lwj is confused and turned on and maybe a little guilty for underestimating him

[hellfire--cult]

MafiaBoss!Alpha!Eddie Munson x Omega!Fem!Reader

wc: 17k

+18, omegaverse, boss and secretary, possessive behaviour, jealousy, blood mentions, biting, rough, smut, p in v (unprotected), oral (both ways), slight dubcon at a point, mentions of nancy x reader, fingering, heat and rutting behaviour, breeding kink, spit, marking, degradation

Plot: Being the secretary of a Mafia boss was not easy, much less when you believed your boss was your scent mate and you knew he made your omega coworkers stay after hours to fuck them, yet he never called you to stay. It was time to move on, but your boss smelled the scent of another Alpha on you and decided to make sure you knew who you belonged to.

A/N: it was intended to be just a smut thing, never to be this long. Oh well, enjoy 9k words of pure filth out of that count. this isn't the header i intended, but it'll do

Don't be lazy and reblog.

AFTER HOURS

You didn’t want to pay it much attention. 

You absolutely didn’t. 

But you couldn’t help yourself as you smelled him, walking through the doors a room away. That scent was filled with ash and iron, yet it was intoxicating in the most addicting of ways. You didn’t want to be loving his scent, but you just couldn't avoid it. The omega inside of you always craved to go closer for a deeper smell, but you couldn’t.

He is your boss and you can’t want him this way. You can’t. You’re his secretary, well, one of them. There are four of you in total, always sitting outside of his office at your respective desks. Your coworkers are Omegas, just like yourself, and you have known them for over six months since you started working here.

You found the job offer through a friend of yours, Robin. Your beta best friend that told you her girlfriend was looking for a new secretary at her workplace. You were desperate to leave your old job, being dragged around by a misogynistic Alpha, telling you you were too dumb to be more than a mere assistant, even if you were great at your work and did it all so he would not have anything to do during the day.

You were shoving your resume in Robin’s hands the second she said that. You wanted out, you needed out, and Robin gladly passed it on to her girlfriend. You were called for an interview a week later, but you didn’t expect the job offer to come from one of the highest social buildings in the city. 

You never knew what was inside but you could only guess it was a big company of some sort. When walking through the building, you could smell iron all around you, not blood to be exact, but just a strong smell. It smelled… powerful. A scent that intensified the more you walked through the office.

Then you finally saw Chrissy, going into a glassed room for your interview. You had met Chrissy before, but just a wave from afar. Robin told you Chrissy preferred to stay away from social events, or from meeting new people because of her work. That threw you off but your friend smiled apologetically and you didn’t press on the subject.

As the interview went on, the iron smell got stronger, sharper, only for you to turn around and for your eyes to clash against deep brown ones with dilated pupils. The smell was coming from him. From the man dressed in black outside of the room, his face almost touching the glass, his breath fogging it from how hard he was inhaling and exhaling. 

You remember how awe-struck you were with him, and you remember how badly you wanted to get up from your chair to rush after him. But you saw him take a step back, giving Chrissy a nod and then walking away. You were confused and looked at Chrissy with a questioning look and that’s when you found out.

This was the Komodo mafia gang. They owned many businesses, residences, buildings… You were being interviewed to be Eddie Munson’s secretary. Eddie Munson is an alpha, and the boss of this gang. The owner. The leader. 

Your thoughts were cut off when you saw the doors open, your head whipping to the side to see your boss walking in, ripping his blazer off, the smell of actual blood rushing into the room. All the omegas winced at the smell, as well as the other betas that were walking around with paperwork in their hands. 

Your worry raised, unlike the other Omegas who were aroused or scared in the room, you were worried. Did something happen to him? Is the blood splattered on his shirt his own? Someone else’s? Your nose twitched as a sweet note of vanilla invaded you, and you saw Eddie walking by your desk, giving you a pointed look.

“I’m fine. Anything I need to catch up on?” His voice was low as he stood in front of your desk and you stood up as you tried to go back into your professional stance, shaking your head.

“No sir. I already knew that Kromstar’s dealership had to be sealed in the morning, so I took care of that.” You stood proudly, chin tilted up as you looked at your boss’s reaction. A small smirk was sent your way, followed by a single nod. You grabbed the paperwork from your desk and raised it towards him.

“Perfect. Good job my Rose.” He leaned forward, his hands reaching to hold the paperwork, but the tip of his index finger ran over yours and your breath left your lungs for a second as an electric shock ran down your spine. Your eyes locked with his as you saw his nose flare up slightly and then he took a step back from you.

“Do you– need me to get you some fresh clothes, Mr. Munson?” You kept your voice to a normal level, steady, professional. He shook his head as his eyes scanned your face, only to then look away and start walking towards his office.

“No, Chrissy already prepared stuff for me.” And like that, the scent slowly went away as he closed the doors to his office behind him. You turned your head to see the other omegas and betas looking at you and then returned to their business. 

You sighed as you sat down again. Rose. His Rose. Eddie named his workers with flowers, but the only one that he called by her name was Chrissy. Steve, the male omega, he called Sunflower. Heather, the other female omega, he called Cosmo, and then Carol he called Carnation.

When you were named Rose you were surprised. You wondered what color of rose he pictured when naming you it. Was it pink? Red? White? A rosebud? A single rose? What colors were the other Omegas? Either way, your name caused a string of rumors that didn’t cease until a month later from your first day at your new job.

But he never referred to them as… his. You were the only one. You always wondered why.

You looked up to see Steve and Heather gossiping, and you wondered why you were never close to them. It was fairly civil, but you can’t say you shared a single lunch with them, nor with Carol. You guessed you were not part of their group because–

“Sunflower.” Chrissy’s voice made your head snap towards the big black office doors, her head peeking out. She sent a small greeting smile your way, which you reciprocated before she turned her head back to Steve, who was standing up from his desk so the Alpha knew she had his attention. “Stay after hours tonight.”

You heard a chirp coming from Steve’s way, the scent of lust filling the room as well as happiness. Heather’s scent soured as she received a shoulder wiggle from Steve, showing himself off. Your stomach twirled, moved all around, and you looked down at your paperwork, knowing your scent might be bitter.

You felt your body burn with anger, sadness, and jealousy, the omega inside of you wanting to let out a whine of distress. It was not fair. You were pretty sure you were the one who wanted him the most, you were sure of it… Six months you worked here, six months you’ve seen the other three omegas being called in for after hours, knowing damn well the Alpha was fucking them behind his office doors, and…

You were never called.

Not once. You came to the conclusion he did it to keep it professional with at least one of his secretaries, but– why did it have to be you? Why? His scent drives you crazy, so much so that after that first interview you went into a triggered heat, and you weren’t even near your heat date. 

But you felt his stare. You felt it many times. You saw how his nose flared every time he came close to you, smelling you, taking in your scent just like you did with him. Your omega wanted to jump on the Alpha, and much more knowing he is a good man. He donates to schools and helps with the medical bills of many elderly people in the hospitals. Elderly people that have no one or very little. Not to mention how safe you knew you would be with someone like him. You and your pups would be cared for exceptionally.

Your Omega yearns to be submissive to this Alpha, to be bred by him, mated, protected… But Eddie can’t even see you as a random fuck. He sees you as just what you are. His secretary. You are nothing else but his dutiful, professional secretary. Nothing more, nothing less. You were the only secretary he didn’t fuck so that the job gets done, unlike the other three.

But later on, when you were already out of the office doors, you noticed you left your jacket behind. You would have not cared for it and just retrieved it the next day if it weren't for the fact that it was a friday, and it was your favorite jacket. So you went back up, all the way to the 23rd floor. 

And god you wish you hadn’t.

The smell of sex filled your nostrils as you walked out of the elevator doors. His scent, spiked, aroused, strong, and fierce. You walked by the cubicles where a few betas were still typing away stuff, only caring for the job to be done. Guards stood by the door where your desk was, your office.

You were let in and you felt your knees weaken and tremble the closer you got to the desk, which was the closest to Eddie’s door. His office. You could hear the purring, the moaning, Steve calling Eddie’s name, and–

“Alpha– Knot me– Knot me, please–”

You felt like vomiting. You needed to get out of there. You needed to run. You needed to leave this place. Your hand snatched the jacket off the back of your chair and you rushed out of the doors and past all the cubicles. You didn’t want to think about it. You couldn’t bear to think about Eddie knotting someone. 

As soon as the doors of the elevators closed, you let yourself whine and sob a couple of times as tears filled your eyes. Why do you feel so rejected? Nothing ever happened between the two of you. Nothing. The words were very little, and the most physical contact you had with him was the brushing of fingertips when he reached for something that was on your hand.

It didn’t make sense, but it might mean you found your scent mate… only that it’s one-sided. If it is that, you would have to leave the city. Leaving the job only won’t do the trick, you need to leave the city, fuck, even the state. 

You felt your belly cramp less and less the more floors you went down and the less you could smell the aroused Omega and the feral Alpha. You can’t keep doing this. Maybe you need the distraction. You need someone else.

These six months you’ve been working here, there was this pull or this sense of respect that didn’t allow you to properly agree to dates or encounters with other people. Not even betas. You didn’t know why but you just felt like you needed to reject these advances. Your hands gripped your purse and zipped it open, taking out your cell phone and opening your Instagram.

Maybe this will help you feel better.

It did, yet it didn’t.

It did because Nancy was very sweet. The Alpha met you through Robin at a party once, and you chatted all night long, exchanging usernames on Instagram with one another. She messaged you a couple of times but soon after you started your new job and you didn’t feel the need to engage with her in such a manner any longer.

And when meeting with her she was kind, and respectful, and you were the one that had to initiate the flirting stance of the night out. Nancy was a good alpha. She looked like she could take care of you, so you didn’t mind when she asked if you wanted to go back to her place. 

That’s when your mind couldn’t help but think of someone else when having sex with Nancy.

It wasn’t fair. You didn’t want to imagine him, but you felt like if you didn’t you wouldn’t have been able to even suck her cock. You don’t know what to make out of it, but you wanted her to knot you. You wanted it so you could confirm if you had an unrequited scent mate situation, and by the looks of it, it seems you did… You didn’t let Nancy knot you. You backed out at the last minute.

Her knot bumped into your entrance a couple of times, but you couldn’t let it in. You just let out warning growls at her everytime it did and Nancy respected it. But, even amidst all of that, you at least had your thirst quenched. Even if a bit and with someone you didn’t truly want.

Now monday, back in the forsaken office you want to burn down to start a whole new torturous week. You were at your desk, putting your paperwork away as Carol talked to you from hers, steps away from yours.

“Someone had fun.” She snickers as she chews on her gum and you glance once at her and back down, Steve’s voice filling your ears.

“Carol, knock it off.” Out of the three omegas, Steve was the most tolerable one. You looked up at him and he gave you a nod and then looked back down at his papers. Carol scrunched her nose and then started writing down on her contracts. 

You wondered if the three showers you took were not enough. You were sure it was enough. You didn’t have any marks on you, you told Nancy not to leave any. You sighed at how unprofessional this might make you seem in front of everyone. You tried taking the scent off but it seems it didn’t work and now everyone knows. 

The iron scent filled your nostrils and you knew your boss got off the elevator. All of you got up from your desks to receive your boss, but your nose scrunched when you started smelling something bitter or pungent. The doors opened with Eddie, followed by Chrissy right on his heels. His hands were in his pockets as the four secretary omegas gave a nod and a greeting to their boss. 

He was about to pass by you but he suddenly stopped. You tilted your head as you saw his nose flaring slightly. The scent in the room became a little suffocating, your knees feeling like they wanted to give up on you and it seemed that it was taking an effect on the other omegas because you could hear Heather whining in fear in the corner of the room.

You didn’t know what was going on, but then another scent joined in, spicy, alarmed. Chrissy was inspecting Eddie’s back and then she slowly turned to face you. Her eyes widened slightly as she took a deep breath in. 

Your eyes were wide, eyebrows meeting in the middle as you saw Eddie slowly turning to face you. His eyes were black, pure black. You could feel your omega wanting to submit, to ask for forgiveness, but for what? You didn’t do anything wrong, so why is his anger directed towards you? 

“Mr. Munson?” Your voice was small and worried, but you needed to know why he was looking at you like he wanted to… kill you? 

“Mr. Munson, I think we should head inside.” Chrissy’s hand pressed on his shoulder as Eddie’s eyes kept scanning you, from head to toe. Did you do something? Did you forget to do paperwork on friday? Did you miss a client? No, it’s not like you… but who knows? You are human.

Eddie’s face got closer to yours as you stood there, looking at him as he towered over you, his presence bigger than this room, and you felt like you were being suffocated. You felt your heart hammering in your chest, his breath hitting your face as it came out of his nostrils in harsh puffs. 

His face was tense, his jaw clenched, and a vein was popping out on his forehead. Then you heard a low rumble, a vibration and you realized that he was growling. Your boss was growling at you. You whined slightly now, knowing you had done something wrong. You didn’t know what but he was displeased with you, no, he was angry, furious with you.

“Sir–” Chrissy tried again, this time more alarmed, more pressure in her tone, but keeping her Alpha rank below Eddie’s. She sounded worried as she looked at you and then back at Eddie, and– was he going to fire you? What did you do?

Eddie growled loudly as a rough hand made your pen holder fly across the room and hit the wall with force. You gasped and jumped one step back at the sudden aggressiveness, never having seen your boss like this. You were scared, worried, alarmed, but you wanted to apologize, for whatever you did. 

The male Alpha huffed once and marched into his office. Chrissy was breathing heavily and then looked at you, shaking her head to calm you down. You didn’t notice the whine that was leaving your throat until Chrissy tried to shush you.

“What– Did I forget to do something on friday?” You were trembling, and Chrissy shook her head and was about to press a hand on your shoulder, trying to comfort you, only to retreat before doing so.

“N-No… he– had a rough weekend. Please, don’t be alarmed omegas, just– Please, have a twenty-minute break and come back.” Chrissy gave you one last glance before she turned and rushed into the Alpha’s office. You looked at the other Omegas in the room and they were as confused as you but more scared. The guard nodded to you all towards the other door, and you wanted to barge into his office and ask if he was okay. Ask for forgiveness, or do something to make him feel better.

But as you were escorted out for your break, you started hearing things breaking inside his office as well as muffled yelling. You held a whine in as your body trembled and then you walked out of your office. You looked at the other three omegas who only crossed their arms at you with frowns on their faces.

“What the fuck did you do?” Heather asked and you shook your head, not knowing what to say.

“I– I swear I don’t know, I– I did all my work on friday and I rechecked today and everything is fine?” Your heart wanted to explode and your stomach twisted with nerves and you needed to pace. You needed to let go of the energy that was consuming you. The omegas followed you as you walked towards the balcony to get some air, the murmurs of your other coworkers making your head throb. You didn’t need the speculations or people making more rumors about you. Not right now.

“You did something! Did you check properly?” Steve asked this time and you growled at them, taking them aback. Omegas hardly growled, only when purely distressed or displeased.

“I didn’t! Maybe it was one of you that lacked on their job to get their pussy wet with the boss and since I’m the only one that actually works, I get the fucking blame!” Your voice was loud, high-pitched, angry, and fed up. Carol cleared her throat and scoffed as she squinted at you.

“Don’t blame it on us. It’s not our fault he doesn’t want to touch a single strand of your head.” Your heart plummeted to the ground at that and Steve pressed a hand on Carol’s shoulder only for her to rip it out of his grasp and walk away. 

You were looking down at the floor, and you felt your eyes fill with tears. You heard Steve and Heather mumble something to one another before walking away, and then all you could hear was the beating of your heart in your ears. What did you do? What have you done so badly, so wrongly, for him to get angry like this?

Will you get fired? Maybe… Fuck, what if you do get fired? But didn’t you want to? Wasn’t that one of the best decisions for you? You didn’t want to feel this anymore, this rejection, this pain in your gut. You don’t want to be near him any longer, not if you have to watch him be with others all the time. Watch him choose others before you. You can’t keep doing that to yourself.

So maybe if he fires you it is for the best. Whatever the reason might be. You would be able to move on at one point, leaving the city, away from him and his scent. Yes, it will hurt leaving Robin behind, but you can’t bear it. You can’t. Seeing him this angry at you, not only makes you feel little and useless, but also it adds up to the rejection. You feel unwanted, undesired.

You take your time, taking deep breaths before walking back. The other three already returned to their desks, but you took one more minute to yourself. You took a deep breath in before you walked through your office doors and you could hear your coworkers typing away, in silence.

The air was tense, the scent around you all was covered by sprays and blockers, yet you could still smell the bitterness, the sourness, the musk. You just wanted to head home. You needed to head home. Maybe you can call Chrissy and tell her you don’t feel well. Yeah, you’ll do that.

You walked towards your desk and slowly sat down on your chair. As soon as you did, Eddie’s door opened and Chrissy walked out, closing the door behind her. All the omegas snapped their heads to look at her, expectantly, except for you. You knew that when Chrissy walked out of Eddie’s office it meant–

“You’ll stay after hours tonight.” That. She always says that. Wait–

“Huh?” Your head snapped upwards to see Chrissy looking down at you with an expression you couldn’t quite read.

“You’ll stay after hours tonight. No questions asked, you cannot reject it. You must stay.”

Your eyes were wide as you looked at how she turned and walked back into the black doors, the guard moving away for her to enter. You looked at the door, and stared at it as if what just happened was a fantasy that happened in your head. There’s– 

Your breathing accelerated as you looked down at the desk. This wasn’t like when he asked for Steve or Heather or Carol to stay, wasn’t it? You couldn’t smell anything, fuck, you couldn’t smell what he was feeling at all. You can still smell the bitterness despite the blockers in the room, but you don’t know if it is remnants of before or–

“Hey, hey, you need to calm down.” You didn’t notice Steve was in front of you with worry in his eyes as he rested his palms on your desk. You looked at him, frowning, lip trembling, and you didn’t notice the whines coming from your throat. Your eyes filled with tears as the anxiety consumed you, and you were in clear distress.

“I mean, Steve, she has every right to be like this, it’s not like he is calling her to do what he does to us.” Heather snickered on the corner, disguising her displeasure of you being called tonight, but also calm because the boss was not in a good mood at all. That comment didn’t make you feel any better, if anything, it made you feel worse. 

The first time you are asked to stay after hours, and it’s because you might get fired or– killed? It looked like that. He looked like he was going to eat you or rip you to shreds, not sexually. It didn’t look like that for you at all, and the scent he was leaving was a clear giveaway.

“Heather, shut the fuck up, you’re not helping.” Steve bared his teeth slightly at the coworker and all you could do was stare down at your desk. You started frowning as you looked down at your papers. Everything is fine… You know it. You know everything you did was right and on time. Work wise? You were impeccable.

Your posture changed as you straightened up and took a deep breath in. You cleared your throat and gathered your papers and looked at your computer. You will recheck but, you know everything was fine. You looked at Steve and directed a soft smile his way.

“I’m fine. It was nice working with you Steve, I say this just in case we don’t see eachother after today.” Your voice became low, calm as your thoughts settled. Whatever you did, it wasn’t of your knowledge, or whatever someone else did and blamed it on you. You know you did everything right, so even if you’re scared… terrified, you will stand your ground.

Steve only cleared his throat and walked back to his desk as Heather and Carol looked back down to their computers as they shared one look. It wasn’t nice working with them, you weren’t going to lie to them, but Steve was the only one that helped you with stuff, despite him fucking your possible scent mate.

Now it was a matter of waiting, looking at your watch as the hours went by, and your nerves started eating away your intestines, your stomach, just everything. You felt like you were being consumed slowly but you had to keep your head straight. You were not going to be chewed for something you didn’t do, or a misunderstanding, or a rumor.

You might not return to your office tomorrow, so you started putting some of your stuff all together in your drawer, maybe someone will bring you a cardboard box for later on. Steve was looking at you from the corner of his eye, eyebrows frowned as he typed away.

And then, 6 PM arrived. Chrissy walked out from the black doors and looked at the other three Omegas with a sharp look.

“Leave immediately.” Your breath was taken out of your lungs as you heard her authoritative tone, her Alpha voice vibrating against the walls of your office. Steve gave you one last look before he got up from his chair and ducked his head as a goodbye. You stayed in your chair as you saw how the other omegas left the office giving you final glances.

Your heart was accelerated, wanting to break out from your chest and you felt the blood rushing through your ears like a waterfall. You looked at Chrissy and she turned to face the guard. Without a word, the guard that was on Eddie’s door walked out of your office, surprising you because the guards never left.

“Um… why is Geoffrey–” 

“You must stay on this floor. The boss doesn’t want…” Chrissy bit her tongue as she looked at you with a frown. You didn’t know if it was stern, or worried, or a mixture of both. “Get inside his office once you do not hear anyone else. Good luck Rose.”

And then you saw Chrissy walking out of the door of your office. You sucked in a breath as you saw from the open door how all the betas were being commanded to leave, which never happened. There were always a few who stayed or did night shifts. Your breath was heavy as you realized Chrissy was clearing out the floor, leaving you and Eddie as the only people on it.

You heard the elevator ding many times as people left. You still couldn’t smell anything, and you didn’t notice you were scratching the wood of your desk from your anxiety. You sharpened your ear until no more dings came from outside. You gulped as you shakily stood up from your chair and looked at the big black double doors. 

You stepped away and fixed yourself, wanting to appear unaffected or as professional as possible, not wanting him to know how anxious you were. You took a few steps towards his office, your heels clicking on the floor. You took a sharp deep breath in as your hand trembled, grabbing the door handle. You then opened it and– oh god–

The scent was strong, pungent, making your nose burn. It was a mixture of so many smells, including wood, lemon, ash, and leather? Musk? But you also noticed the hint of bitterness, of sourness. Strong and sharp. It was suffocating, yet– you could feel your belly turning, strongly, pulling you to him. You felt your body growing hot, just like it always did when you caught his scent but this time it was ten times worse.

You held your breath in order to concentrate on your task of walking inside, seeing his back turned to you, behind his desk, and looking out his big windows, going all the way to the very tall ceiling. His hair was tied up in a bun, wearing a black buttoned-up shirt with a loosened burgundy tie around his neck, with the sleeves rolled up just under his elbows and his black pants. He had a cigarette in his hand and you could see the smoke leaving him as it went over his head.

“Lock the door after you walk in.” His voice was demanding, not yet authoritative. You wanted to run away from this confrontation but you knew he would come in contact with you one way or another. 

You slowly stepped inside, feeling like every step was one step closer to your doom, or to something unknown. You closed the door and took a deep breath in as you locked the door just as he ordered. Were you… going to die? Did you read something you shouldn’t have? You don’t remember anything that would have made you think you shouldn’t have, so–

“Come closer Rose.” His voice was strained, angry still. You gulped and followed his instructions, slowly taking steps closer to him until you were ten steps away from his desk. The scent was stronger and you felt like kneeling before him as you felt wetness start to pool inside your underwear. You were embarrassed, but maybe he won't notice if you don’t show it. Fuck his scent for making you this way, you might die right now, and all you can feel is being horny?

“Sir… What do you… need me for?” You asked, slowly and mostly submissive, to show him that whatever he says will go, at least for now. You heard a rumble, and you didn’t know if it was a groan or a growl. He took a puff out of his cigarette before speaking again.

“Do you know why you’re here?” 

“Not really… Did I do something to make you this displeased?” It was a risky question, but someone had to break the ice for it. 

“You did.” You felt your breath being knocked out of your lungs. Fuck, what did you do? What could you have possibly done? Whatever you did was no small thing, remembering how he threw your pen holder across the room. 

“I– I checked everything I did on friday and I didn’t notice anything– Was it something my colleagues had to do that–”

“Did she knot you?”

Your mouth fell open as you looked at his back, your heart stopping completely at the question. How did he–?

“What?”

“I asked you a question, Rose, so you answer it accordingly.” And then your boss slowly started turning around, and you felt your blood leaving your body as his eyes, now all black, not a single speck of brown anywhere looked into your soul. You couldn’t see his irises from how dilated his pupils were. His features were clenched, eyebrows tense, and when he fully turned to you, you saw how his chest was moving quicker than normal because of his breathing. “Did. She. Knot. You.”

Your eyes looked into his again, noticing the anger, the rage, the desperation that lingers there. Your scent probably spiked right now because irritation coursed through you. How dare he? Why? You need confirmation that he has the information of your personal life, because, why the fuck would he need it?

“I’m sorry Sir, she?”

“Nancy Wheeler. 27. Journalist. Presented at the age of 15 as an Alpha, moved to the city of Chicago three years ago to pursue her career. She has two siblings, her father, and mother still alive, no Omega mated to her, so this is your last chance to answer. Did she knot you?” His voice was low, commanding, not yet authoritative in his Alpha tone, but it was coming to it. Your lip twitched at this man's audacity, not understanding the reason for the interrogation.

“With due respect, I don’t think my personal affairs are important at all.” And then Eddie’s hands slammed against the desk and your eyes widened when the Alpha’s teeth were suddenly bared, growling at you, the noise sending a wave of daggers across your entire skin.

“I CAN SMELL HER ON YOU!” His voice was loud enough that you felt like the walls shook from its vibration. Your heart was about to explode as you took a step backwards, your belly turning in fear as well as– arousal? Nerves? You couldn’t pinpoint it, but his scent was becoming stronger and stronger and it was making your mind turn hazy and your belly cramp slightly.

How dare he? How dare he ask something like that? Why does he care or why does he acknowledge it? Is it because Nancy’s Alpha scent was stronger than his? Was his ego crushed? You stepped back to the place you were standing, your face stern as you defied your boss, your senses on alert and sharp as you looked at him, trying not to glare to not create more discourse.

“I repeat, I do not believe my personal business has anything to do with you, sir. I do not meddle in yours, except work-related. All professional business.” Your voice was firm and assertive, yet there was a hint of shakiness behind it. Of course there was, Eddie was still baring his teeth at you, the air around you clenching your lungs, tightly, wanting to rip them apart.

He put out the cigarette on the ashtray, or one would say he smashed it into it from the force he sent his hand down. His nose scrunched up in distaste as he clenched his eyes tightly as if trying to contain himself from something. You were overwhelmed with all the Alpha pheromones that were around you, and you couldn’t understand the reason behind the question. You opened your mouth to speak again but he interrupted you with a rough tone.

“Why the fuck did you let another alpha touch you?” He asked but you didn’t know if he was asking it to you or if he was talking to himself because he was still not looking at you. He was clenching his eyes as his hands gripped the edge of the desk. You noticed the veins popping on his forearms, underneath the ink, you could still see the bumps thanks to the reflection of the soft lamps around you. 

“Sir–”

“And you didn’t even take her scent off of you. You didn’t wash her fucking scent off your skin.” His eyes looked into yours again, his top lip twitching into showing off his teeth again but he was containing himself so it seemed. You gulped and looked down at your feet, trying to control your breathing as you felt yourself becoming smaller each second he stared at you.

“I– I tried. I thought I managed but– I’m sorry if it is unprofessional–” and you heard him let out a sarcastic chuckle, making you look back up at him.

“Unprofessional? Yes. You can call it that… so I’ll take that stench off of you.” Your eyebrows knitted together in the center of your forehead, not understanding the meaning of his words.

“You’ll– I don’t understand?” And the room became silent. You made a displeased sound when you felt some slick soaking your panties and it started being a little uncomfortable. You wanted to bolt out of here, you wanted to go away but you felt– you felt like you were being preyed on. You felt like fucking prey.

“I will take that putrid smell away. I will replace it with my scent.”

And you froze. You felt as if all the blood had drained from your body in just one instant. You couldn’t feel the tip of your fingers as you watched him as he rounded the desk, steps slowly taken, the sound muffled by the single large carpet against the wooden floor. You were breathing as best as you could as your mind processed his words. 

His scent? Why? You two– 

“We– Why?” 

“Because you are mine.” And that made your blood come back to your veins, but it was burning now. His? You’re his? You saw how his eyebrow twitched at the change of attitude inside of you once again.

“Yours? I’m not yours, sir. I am free to do as I please… just like you are.” You saw his jaw clenching at your defiance as he stood in front of you, two steps away, towering over you. He smelled so good, but so strong, so dangerously strong. He squinted his eyes slightly at you as he scanned your body, and then back at your face.

“Time to change that. Strip.” You couldn’t process his words correctly in your brain. What did he say? Why–

“What–?” His eyes were staring into your soul as his hands clenched at his sides.

“Strip.” And you didn’t want to comply, you wanted answers first, or at least for him to realize how hypocritical he was being. Your body trembled with the need of submission but you prevailed, not wanting to fall for it.

“I don’t see the need to.” And that’s when you heard it, the growl, and his teeth were bared once more. 

“I said, strip, Omega.” His voice, now authoritative in his Alpha command. You felt yourself become limp, your mind shutting off slightly from rationality and control. You could only tear up as your hands went towards the buttons of your blouse against your will. You wanted answers, you needed them, not do this. 

His eyes watched you as you slowly undressed, and every try of you gaining control of your hands once again was useless. If it were another Alpha, you could have probably fought the command, but Eddie was your kryptonite. Now you are sure he is your scent mate, though you are not his. This is enough proof. Not being able to stop at all, even if there might be danger, that’s when your omega is in complete submission to THEIR alpha.

Your hands removed your blouse first, then you unzipped, and dropped your tube skirt, then got out of your shoes. You were not looking at him as you felt your eyes burning, your hands moving towards your back to unclasp your bra, letting it fall down. The last piece of clothing were your black lace panties. 

You didn’t realize you were trembling as your hand got under the elastic of your underwear, but a hand stopped you. A ringed, tattooed hand gently grasped yours and you felt yourself breathing again, for some reason feeling safe. You shortly realized it was him releasing calming pheromones towards you. His feelings were being a whiplash for you, not understanding the brutal change, not understanding if he wanted to intimidate you or rather calm you.

“You– You have your fun with the other omegas… why can’t I have my own?” Your voice came out small, but then you raised your head to look at him. His eyes were black, pitch black. His nose was flaring as he looked at you and his mouth was slightly open, and you took notice of his fangs being enlarged somewhat. You frowned at the display, at how– desperate he looked.

“I will ask… one more time…” His voice low, strained, and there was a hint of begging behind it. “Did she knot you?”

And your face twisted, your scent soured making his nose scrunch up, his eyebrow twitch as he scanned your features. 

“Did you knot them? Sunflower? Carnation? All?” You hissed through your teeth, your displeasure known for once and for all, and then, the room felt as if it spun around you, oxygen was exchanged for his smell.

A loud snarl was heard from him, vibrating within himself and you swore you could feel it inside you as well from how intense it was. How alarming. How threatening. How empowering. How… possessive. It made you shiver, whimper, and look at him with eyes filled with uncertainty, fear, excitement, arousal, and nervousness– just a mix of many emotions.

And you knew he could smell you. You knew he could smell the slick, your juices just making a mess out of your thin thong, coming out from the sides and already dampening your inner thighs. You couldn’t help yourself, you couldn’t help how your limbs were trembling for his touch, and you didn’t have to wait long for it, just not how you expected.

Tattooed hands went towards the loosened tie around his neck and undid it in one single tug. Your heart skipped a beat as he put the tie in his mouth, biting onto it, while he grabbed your wrists, making you gasp at the sudden touch, but then– fear mixed with arousal. He held your wrists together in front of you with just one hand, while he used the other to wrap the tie around them, expertly, and then tying them up together. 

It was tight, a small whimper getting stuck in your throat.

His right hand flew to the back of your head, clenching your hair in a warning and threatening grip, a hiss falling from your lips as he pulled your face closer to his. His hot breath falling on your lips like molten lava, his eyes long gone from rationality, and you know, you just know, you cannot defy him. Not now.

“On your knees.” He didn’t use his Alpha tone. He didn’t have to. Despite your fear, the twist in your gut, your dignity yelling at you at the back of your head to not do this, to not become one of his many toys just because his alpha pride was hurt, you still got on your knees. It was slow, and your eyes never left his as you sunk lower.

His hand left your head and went to undo his pants, and the zipper noise made your eyes move to the bulge that was in front of you. You couldn’t help the feeling of wanting to nuzzle your face against it, but you weren’t going to indulge in that feeling. You weren’t going to become putty, even if your omega was jumping happily, making you want to purr in delight and chirp because your scent mate was finally looking your way.

His tattooed hands, scarred even, pulled the zipper down and then his pants went downwards with a push. Your eyes were fixated on the wet stain that was over the dark blue hue of the fabric of his boxers. Your tongue tingled with the need of darting it out to lick on it, needing to taste it, to finally have his flavor in your mouth.

He could probably see it, how your eyes teared up, or clouded, pupils starting to dilate slowly, and how your own wetness was gushing out even more. You wanted to rip the tie off with your teeth, let your hands free to touch him, but– No. You cannot do this. It’s not fair. But it is what you have wanted all along, isn’t it? You closed your eyes to try to keep your brain to yourself, trying to control your body, at least regain a bit of it.

“Mr. Munson– I will not be one more for the collection.” You didn’t expect a low chuckle to escape him, but you could hear the angered growl behind it, expressing how disgusting that comment of yours was. Your eyes opened, looking up at him, only to see enraged eyes and bared teeth directed your way, which only made you tremble in fear, in anticipation, and in eagerness.

“You have no idea what the fuck you are talking about, My Rose.” His. Why is there so much anger coming from the Alpha that is now towering you? You cannot comprehend it. You cannot really understand it. His hands moved, you noticed, and then when your eyes went back to your front, your breath caught in your throat.

His cock sprung out and hit his pelvis as he pulled his boxers down enough to release it. It was thick. The tip was bright red, and it looked like it hurt. You couldn’t help yourself when your mouth started watering, seeing the drop of precum leaking out of the tip. You felt your saliva pooling on your tongue, your eyes fixated on it, and your body was suddenly set ablaze as your wrists tried pulling against the tie with no chance of success of untying yourself.

“Taste it.” Eddie’s voice was low, and commanding, and you didn’t really know if he was using his Alpha tone or not, but your body reacted instantly. Your tongue darted out, and the tip of it scooped up that drop of precum escaping him. You tasted it, mouth closed and if your mind was hazy before, it was now gone. Out of the window who you were before tasting him. Dead was the woman who could probably live without the need to know this taste. 

Your eyes were closed as you moaned at how delicious he was. Everything made sense, puzzles were put together, that little earring you thought you lost was found again, you discovered the secret ingredient to a recipe you never got right. And then–

Your eyes opened, revealing that tears had filled them, slick dripping furiously down your inner thighs, body trembling, lip wobbling as you stared up at him. The Alpha that made you simply lose yourself.

“Please… Please…” You begged. You didn’t even need to probably, but you still begged. His hand went towards your head again, his fingertips softly digging into your scalp. His jaw was clenched, strained.

“Open, Omega.” Electricity rushed through your body at the command, at his voice calling you omega. He called you it. And how can you ever defy him? Not now. Not ever. Not after this.

Your eyes looked at the red tip in front of you, and you saw how his dick twitched, bobbing a little, as if anticipating your touch, your warmth. His hand was still on the back of your head, but was not pushing you. Not that it needed to. 

Your mouth opened, tongue lolling out just slightly as you leaned forward. The tip touched your tongue first and then you kept going, finally taking him inside your mouth. A pleased growl vibrated through the room, and Eddie could only throw his head back in delight as your warmth finally started to engulf him.

Moaning is the only thing that could be heard from you the more you took him inside. Once you knew you couldn’t go further without choking, you moved your hands to help yourself only to whine at feeling them tied. You could only use your mouth on him, but it was no time to complain. There wasn’t any.

His grip tightened as you started bobbing your head, coating his dick in saliva, all over, slobbering it so much that it started running down the side of your mouth. You didn’t know it, but the Alpha before you was losing his mind, fighting against the animal that was inside of him.

Your moans helped with the vibrations around him, and you felt your entire body just burning inside out. You pulled away to be able to dip the tip of your tongue onto the slit of the head of his cock. He groaned loudly as he looked down at you and then you felt him guide you, which you obliged. 

His cock went inside your mouth again, and you started moving faster, but not by choice. If it were your call, you would take your time to taste him properly, try to trace every ridge of his veins so that it burns into your memory because, you don’t know if you will ever have this opportunity again. 

Even if your mind was knocked out of the park, you still remember how he has never called on you for months. How he slept with others and not you. How when the slight bit of his ego got damaged, he commanded you to be on your knees for him. So yes, you do not know if this will ever happen again.

So you’ll take this chance.

His hand guided you to move faster on him, your tongue slurping against the shaft, allowing him to slide in easily over and over into your mouth. Your pussy clenched with need around absolutely nothing. The scent of him filling you, sweaty, and with the distinctive little hints of cackling wood in the fire. 

Your belly turned at hearing his grunts, willing your eyes to open and look up at him, still moving your head, swallowing him in. He was looking down at you with his eyebrows meeting in the middle, groaning, growling, grunting under his breath. He looked in pain, or was it desperation? You couldn’t figure it out, but it can wait, right now you just want to keep tasting him.

You closed your eyes again, and his hips started moving against your movements, making him go a little deeper, beginning to touch the back of your throat. You started feeling the beginnings of your gags, but you focused on breathing through your nose. His grip tightened at the back of your head and then out of nowhere, he pushed you into his thrust. You yelped, or rather choked a yelp in surprise, feeling the tip of his cock pushing further into your throat. 

Your eyes started burning, raising your hands to grab onto his right knee, a silent plea to pull away before you start gagging. But at the same time you didn’t want him away, because your nose was now into his pubic hair, his scent stronger than ever and the omega inside of you was elated. 

“Taking me so good in that little mouth of yours. Such a good omega for me.” His voice was strained but you could only purr at his praise, but that action made you lose concentration and you gagged on him, coughing, and his grip loosened for you to pull away. You gasped for air as he got out of your mouth with a pop. You breathed heavily as you felt tears running down your cheeks, looking up at him with a lost look in your eyes.

“Did you say that to them as well?” The words were out of your mouth before you could think. Even in your delight, it seems the rejection you suffered these past months was not easy to forget. Not even if you were in the one thing you have wanted to experience all this time. 

He was looking down at you in disbelief. He thought he was clear enough, but he was never good with words, and his actions could be better. He snarled down at you, his fangs showing in displeasure, but you didn’t back down and you hissed at him. Your omega wanted answers, defying the Alpha towering over you, and Eddie was taken aback by it. 

You felt possessive, needing to know if he had knotted your coworkers, if he had called them omegas, if he had called them sweet yet nasty names. You felt this was your Alpha, and you were angry, saddened, disappointed. He wasn’t yours, but you certainly felt he was, and this is your excuse for the way you’re reacting.

“Dense as fuck. Cute, but aren’t you a dumb little thing?” You were stunned at his insult but you winced when he dug his fingertips into your scalp, pulling you up on your feet once more, and then he continued talking “-- let me do to you things I didn’t do with the rest.”

His lips were on yours in a frenzy, making you gasp in surprise, not expecting him to kiss you at all. He didn’t seem like the man to be keen on kissing, because most of the time people thought of it as intimate, or caring. Maybe he was not one of those people and you were completely wrong about him, because the fact is– You don’t know him at all.

But how could you complain when he didn’t care that you just had him in your mouth? His lips were hungrily devouring yours, tasting himself, and you. He groaned into the kiss, his chest rumbling in delight, resembling a purr that only made you whimper in need, your hands reaching up to grab onto his shirt. Your wrists started to hurt as you kept tugging at them to be able to touch, to feel more, but it seemed that he didn’t intend to take the tie off.

His teeth bit onto your bottom lip, and you winced as he tugged on it before pulling away. Your eyes fixated on him as he licked his teeth with his tongue and you could see the red tint on them. You were bleeding and he was moaning at the taste of it, which only made the slick overflow and run down your legs more than before.

You whined in need as you felt a cramp punching you in your belly. The need of his knot resembled that of a heat, but you knew you were not due yet. The last one you had, you asked for a week off, and it was a month ago. You had to wait for another month for your next heat, so you didn’t understand why you were cramping.

Was it because of him? Was it just his mere scent and touch enough to induce you into a placebo of a heat? Into the feel of it? He was clearly your scent mate, there was no question now. There were no doubts. To make you feel like a bitch in heat at any time of the month, that is only something scent mates are able to do.

His eyes found yours as you licked your bottom lip, tasting the iron of your own blood. It wasn’t a deep or long cut, but it was still a small one. His chest rumbled as he took a sharp intake of breath in, smelling you, your arousal, your slick. His eyes closed for a second as you stared at his features, wanting to grab onto his face and kiss him again, but– you were not able to.

“I need to fucking taste you.” You gasped at his words and then you were guided towards his desk. You saw him just throw everything on the floor, including important paperwork. You knew it was important because it was the same thing you have been working on the last week. Once the desk was cleared and he turned to face you again, you opened your mouth to complain, only to be interrupted by his hand gripping your bicep, tightly and pushing you against the desk, your hip hitting the edge of it.

You whimpered in pain, knowing very well that it would leave a bruise on your skin. Your breath got caught in your throat when his hands pressed on your waist and lifted you off the ground in order to place you on the desk. His breaths were heavy, looking at you with intensity and purpose. A shiver ran down your spine when his digits dug into the skin of your waist, fingernails seemingly sharper as it scratched your flesh.

A yelp escaped your lips as his hands pushed on your shoulders, making you fall back, laying down on the desk and quickly, his hands moved to your knees in order to spread your legs for him. You whimpered as you could tell there was a string of your slick connecting both your inner thighs, the cold air making it obvious. Tears of embarrassment filled your eyes as you turned your head to the side, hiding your face behind your tied hands.

“Don’t you dare fucking hide your face from me.” You didn’t listen, not caring for the warning growl he directed your way. Suddenly your hands were engulfed by a singular larger one and pushed upwards, over your head, your knuckles slamming against the hardwood of the desk. Your breathing hitched as your head looked back at him, a piercing and threatening gaze as he bared his teeth for your submission. 

His eyes went towards your breasts, and without a second to waste, he dove downwards, taking your right nipple into his mouth. Your body jerked at the touch, and you bit your bottom lip to hold back a moan, only to whimper in pain as you remembered you had a cut. You realized he did it on purpose so you wouldn’t be able to bite onto anything to hold back your noises. 

His tongue swirled on your perked nipple, making your stomach jump at the attention, his scent spiking up with a hint of sweetness, delight. An appreciative growl, a low purr vibrated in his throat at your taste, at your reaction to him. His free hand went to rub your left nipple, his calloused fingertips rough to the touch, and then he nipped on your right one, making you gasp as your back arched, his hand holding your wrists tightening.

He pinched and bit and sucked on your nipples like a man starved, like this was the one thing he had been dreaming about for an eternity. Your eyes widened in the haze of your lust as you saw him rubbing his neck against your breasts, passing his scent gland all over. He was marking you, putting a claim on you that you didn’t think he deserved even if you wanted it and wanted to chirp in contentment.

“Sir–”

“Alpha.” He demanded and your eyes clashed with his again. He was right on your face, eyes dark as he asked you to call him the one thing you have been wanting to call him the moment you smelled him six months ago. Why now? Should you comply? Should you call him what he wants, needs?

“A–A–” You tried, but you knew that the moment you called him that way, you were going to enter in a mild state of a hivemind. Your rationality will fade slowly, only caring for the knot of the Alpha that was towering over you right now. His knot, his scent, his bite. You felt his hand leave your wrists but before you could lower them, his hand grabbed your chin roughly, making you pucker your lips as you felt the rumble in his chest.

“I’m your Alpha, Omega, and you will call me as such.” He spat through his teeth and you could only whine, which got cut short when a moan replaced it. His hips pressed against yours and you could feel his cock pressing against your clothed, wet and throbbing cunt. You felt yourself clench at nothing. Absolutely nothing. You were fucking desperate. 

“Y–You… are not mine… and I’m not yours.” Your voice was muffled by your puckered lips and he only hissed at you in complete displeasure, in disgust towards your words.

“We’ll change that tonight. Once and for all.” He removed his hand from your breast and held onto the elastic of your thong. You gasped in pain as he pulled, the lace digging into your skin the more he stretched it until you heard a rip. You hissed at the burn the pull left on your hip, and then his hand left your face, letting you move your jaw freely once more. 

Your mind raced at his words, not knowing what he meant, looking at the ceiling as if it would whisper the answer to you, whisper the meaning of this whole act towards you, but your body jerked out of its trance when you felt his tongue running from the middle of your chest and downwards, tasting your sweat. 

Your back arched as you held a moan in, trying not to bite onto your bottom lip when he pressed the tip of his tongue onto your belly. He was closer to where you had been wanting him the most for so long. You should stop this, but can you? Do you even have the willpower to do that? The answer was simple when you felt like puking at the idea of stopping him at all.

You felt his breath hit your pussy, your ripped thong still dangling on your right inner thigh. You shivered since the air made the wetness become cold, and you put your hands on your chest, not knowing where to place them. You heard him inhale deeply, a low rumble being heard from him.

“You smell so delicious… so fucking good My Rose.” You whined at the name, wanting to tell him to call you Omega, just like he demanded you to call him Alpha. You needed to hear it again, for your own sanity before you became someone that does not know the word ‘dignity’.

“I–” You couldn’t even start talking that his hot tongue licked your slick off your inner right thigh first, and he moaned in pleasure. Your eyes widened at the feeling of it, but mostly at the sound that came out of him, and it prompted your pussy to clench and more slick to come out on a string and down towards the table below you, at the edge of it.

He licked your left inner thigh now, slurped on it and then sucked on your skin, taking your cold juices into his mouth. Your breath was stuttering at the feeling as your pussy clenched and clenched, and you wanted to yell at him, to please touch you, lick you, eat you, just anything–

And your eyes widened when he flattened his tongue all over your slit to take a long lick from it. It felt divine, you were finally in bliss as your body felt like it was in flames. It felt as if someone threw a bucket of cold water on you, but it was a temporary relief. Unbeknownst to you, your boss was trembling at the taste of you as his dick twitched in absolute need.

The resemblance of a purr could be heard in the room, not coming from you, but from him. His hands dug into your inner thighs, fingertips marking you as he stared at your pussy, his breathing becoming slightly erratic the more he looked at it. And then, he didn’t hold back.

He went in, starved, desperate, his lips circling around your aching clit and sucking on it as he kept your legs spread for him. You gasped at the feeling and finally let a moan escape your lips, but Eddie was not even listening. You could smell his scent becoming stronger than before, and you couldn’t help but purr at the notice of high arousal, of pleasure, and it was all because of one lick on your pussy.

His tongue started lapping in between your folds, running all over and slurping all the slick that just kept coming out of you. He was moaning into you as you arched your back at every flick to your clit. He was making the most obscene sounds against you and you were loving it. You felt him pull away from you, a growl of pleasure escaping him and you wanted to look down but you couldn’t use your elbows to push yourself up to do so.

“You taste so good. So fucking good. I’m addicted, I knew I would be, but jesus fuck–” His tongue went back on you, a moan leaving you as he licked your clit and sucked on it to create that amazing friction you ached for. What does he mean? What does he mean by ‘he knew’? Did he want to do this to you before? 

“Why– Why didn’t you ever–” You gasped when you felt his tongue sliding inside of you, your back arching towards the ceiling and the small of your back aching at the hardness of the desk below you. Your body was lit on absolute fire, burning you from inside out, not caring if you died in the process of it. It was almost unbearable.

He moaned loudly into you, his dick leaking precum each second that passed, twitching in need at the feel he has around his tongue. He wants to feel the fluttering of your walls that are on his tongue, around his cock. His nose rubbed against your clit as he shook his head a bit at you. He pulled away to run a finger over your slit, covering it in your juices.

“Look at it… So pretty for me. So ready to receive her Alpha.” Your pussy clenched on nothing at his praise, a purr vibrating in your throat as your hips moved against him, making the Alpha smirk in victory. “You want that, My rose? Want me to be your Alpha?”

You didn’t know if he was messing with you or not. How many times did he use this as his dirty talk when fucking Steve? Carol? Heather? How many times did he say these things to them? How many times have they fallen for this trick? 

“Don’t– Don’t play with me.” A warning snarl was sent your way and your back arched as he roughly introduced his middle finger inside of you, a gasp escaping your lips.

“I’m going to make you beg for my knot. I’m going to hear you screaming for me. I’ll make sure of this.” His finger twirled upwards as he started thrusting in and out of you in short yet striking movements. Your soft spot was rubbed on, over and over again, and the moans were coming out of your mouth without any self control.

Your mind started becoming fuzzy the more pleasure you felt, the more slick that came out of you, and the more he moaned against you at each flick of his tongue on your clit. You didn’t want to comply with his orders, but you couldn’t fight your omegan instinct much longer. 

“Oh– fuck!” You yelled out as you felt his ring finger join his middle one, his tempo increasing as he sucked on your clit, and the gushing sounds of your juices could be heard around the room, mixing with your moans, with his groans, and the smell of pure arousal was intoxicating and just making the both of you feel as if you were high.

The coil in your belly started turning, wildly, and you knew you were going to have a strong one. The one person you consider ‘Your Alpha’ was touching you the way you’ve always wanted, and by him and him only. How could you not purr? Chirp? Moan loudly?

Your hands went down to grab onto his hair, who had the bun already a bit messy from his movements, and even with your wrists tied, you managed to cling to him. He moaned into your pussy and your walls started clenching all around his fingers and that’s when you felt him add his index finger, your eyes widening at the stretch, but you felt a certain relief, like a wave of cold air washing over you.

“You need to be ready for my knot. C’mon Omega, cum around your Alpha’s fingers.” You moaned when he called himself your Alpha. As if it were true. As if he truly was just yours and for a moment you believed him as he pumped his fingers in and out of you, the loud squelching of juices even more depraved than before.

“Ed–Ed–” You stuttered out in between moans only to receive a growl in response and then you yelped as pain and pleasure mixed as he bit your clit, and even if it was gentle, it was still a sensible area. It was a warning, a threat to comply with his previous order.

“Say it.” And he twisted his fingers upwards as he made short thrusts yet quick and you felt your belly about to explode, your fingers digging into his hair as you pushed his head into you. Your knees were now bent, and you saw them tremble on the sides of his head. Your body started to shake as your mouth fell open and your eyes started going to the back of your head.

“A–Alpha!” Your orgasm crashed on you like a train, shaking you all over, short circuiting your brain and leaving you gasping for air as stars filled your vision. Eddie only cursed under his breath as his mouth latched onto your clit to help you ride your orgasm out, your pussy clenching around his fingers like a vice, and your slick was just running down, dripping from you.

He moaned at the taste of your orgasm, different to your normal slick. It was sweeter, tastier, and more intoxicating. Your grip loosened once you felt yourself stop trembling wildly, your walls unclenching from around his fingers as you slowly came down from your climax. Your breathing was heavy, feeling drained from how hard your orgasm was just now. You called him Alpha. You gave in. 

Your eyes were closed as you felt him leave your clit, and slowly pulled his fingers out from you, making an involuntary whine escape your throat at the loss of him. You felt defeated. You gave him what you didn’t want to give to someone who only sees you as one more notch in his belt. Another Omega he knotted. 

Your nose scrunched up as the air around you smelled way too intense, so much that you felt it prickle your nose. You couldn’t quite identify what it could be, but you felt like the appropriate word would be, desperation. Your eyes opened and you saw Eddie looking down at you, your slick all over his mouth, his fangs enlarged, his pupils blown out, and–

Your eyes widened as realization hit you. You were in the presence of an Alpha that had a triggered semi-rut. Your eyes went down to his still exposed pelvis, and his dick was larger, and just purely red and pulsing with need. Precum just oozed out from the tip and dripped down the shaft, and it was all for you.

And your mind was gone.

“A– Alpha…” You whimpered as your hivemind took over. Your irises were gone from how wide your pupils were, and your slick was overflowing the edge of the desk and falling onto the floor. Drip. Drip. Drip. You raised your knees towards your chest, letting you show off your pussy to him, presenting yourself in a semi mating press. 

He licked his lips as he looked down at you, his chest moving up and down as he hissed through his teeth. Your Alpha, for some reason, you felt like he was fighting against something. It felt as if he was trying to fight off the rut. But you didn’t want him to. Maybe he knots you, and breeds you, hopefully. You want a pup with him, a pup from your scent mate, yes.

“Please, Alpha, my Alpha…” You begged and that was enough for Eddie to come out of his trance, his hands moving to the back of your knees for support as he moved his hips forward, and his cock ran over your slicked folds, making you moan desperately as you salivated in your mouth. “More, more, more–”

“Yes my Omega. My beautiful Omega… My Rose, your Alpha will give you more. Always.” His tip caught on your entrance and you gasped and you showed your Alpha your wrists, begging for him to take them off so your hands could touch him properly.

“I need to touch you, please, I’ll be good, I promise!” He immediately worked on the tie, yanking it off, probably ripping it apart in the process, and your hands shot up, trying to unbutton his shirt, whining with need to see, touch, feel his skin. His hands grabbed onto the collar of his shirt and he pulled, the buttons snapping and the shirt was ripped open, a breath of relief leaving his lips.

Your eyes scanned the tattooed chest, just a few tattoos here and there, scars that littered all over his stomach as well. You could hear your heartbeat into your ears, your body setting on fire at the sight of the layer of sweat covering his skin. Your hands, now with painful markings around their wrists but you could care less about that now, went forward to touch his stomach.

Fingernails scratched onto the flesh as another thrust of his hips made the tip enter you for just a second, a desperate whimper leaving your lips as you looked up at him with a pleading look. Why isn’t your Alpha taking you? Does he not want you? Are you not as pretty as the others? Your belly cramped, making you clench your eyes as pain shot towards your entire body.

“She didn’t knot you, didn’t she?” Your eyes shot open at the question and you looked at the man towering over you as his grip tightened underneath your knees. You wanted to tell him the truth, comply, but you were also feeling betrayed, used, and played with.

“D-Did you knot them?” Your voice was small and shaky, knowing you weren’t in the position to question the Alpha. You were in a vulnerable state, completely open for the kill. 

And with a loud growl, the biggest one you heard him give yet, he seethed himself inside of you in one powerful thrust.

You threw your head back as you shrieked at the sudden stretch, at the sudden pressure and the pain. It wasn’t great, but it was still painful, yet, your cramps stopped, just a little bit. They stopped stinging like knives, leaving a pain that can only be calmed by a knot. His knot. Tears ran down your cheeks as you gasped for air, your mouth open while you stared at the ceiling, and he bottomed inside of you, inch by inch.

He was big, the biggest you’ve ever had and it felt good, yet painful even with the foreplay. You pissed him off with your response, and you knew it because you could still hear him growling inside of his chest, groaning at the feel of you around him. 

His pelvis clashed against yours and you guided one of your hands towards your belly and you could swear you could feel him when you pressed. He was too deep inside of you and– and– you needed him to move. He needs to move. Your cramps are coming back as well as the cloudiness of your mind.

“P-Please Alpha, move–”

“I won’t move until you tell me.” His voice came out through his teeth as he looked down at you. More tears ran down your eyes as you tried to move your hips against him and he snarled at you in warning. “Tell me!”

“She didn’t! I couldn’t! The only– The only knot I want is–” And a sob ripped out of you as you looked at the man above you. It wasn’t fair, to be in this state and having no control, and knowing that after this, it would be forgotten, a fling of the moment because his ego got smashed.

“Is mine. The only knot you want is mine… And it’s the only one you’ll ever get from now on.” And his hips reeled back, only to slam themselves against you once again, making you choke up on a moan, your breath being knocked out of you instantly, the tip of his cock hitting the deepest part inside of you.

He felt divine, the burning of the first thrust slowly dissipating the more he moved his hips, going in and out of you as you adjusted to his size. The cramps were obscured by the waves of pleasure that your body started to feel, your limbs becoming limp for him to maneuver however he liked.

His fingertips were bruising your skin and his eyes were fixed where the two of you were connecting over and over again, and he grunted in pleasure at the sight, seeing himself disappear inside you, filling you up and feeling your cunt squeezing him, friction burning him from head to toes.

“Ah–” You gasped into your moan as he straightened up to pick up the pace, pulling his cock all the way out, leaving the tip inside, only to then go back in at a steady pace. Your hands flew to the edges on each side of the desk, trying to ground yourself as your mind reeled, your Omegan pheromones only making the Alpha in the room even more feral.

“So good, fuck, you feel so good baby. So, so, so fucking good.” He hissed out, his eyebrows meeting in the middle, a strained look on his face as his jaw clenched, still looking down at his cock going into your pussy, and he could see how your slick overflowed all around him.

You chirped at the praise as you bounced on the desk at each hit of his hips against yours, moans coming out of both your mouths and your rationality shut off once more as another cramp suddenly hit your belly. You weren’t being satisfied. Your needs were not being met and you were becoming restless.

“M-More…” You whimpered and he only tsked as he kept the same pace, not relenting to your begging.

“More what?” He knew exactly what you wanted, and he was playing with you. Tears of exasperation filled your eyes as you moved your hips in retaliation, making him hiss at you from the sudden action.

“More please? Please Alpha… I need– Faster, rougher– It hurts, it hurts–” And you were referring to that in so many ways. How your cramps hurt right now because your body needs and requires his knot, or how your whole soul hurt these past months knowing he never chose you for this before. He chose others, right in your face.

“Anything for my dumb little omega.” You didn’t know why he was insulting you, but you had no time to think. Your eyes widened as you gasped, followed by pleased mewls and loud moans as his hips started snapping against yours, the slapping on skin bouncing on every wall and bookcase, echoing thanks to the tall ceiling above you.

You now realize why he made everyone leave the entire floor.

His pace was rough, deep and fast, fucking into you desperately and your fingernails dug into the wood of the edge’s of the desk as you felt your insides being basically rearranged by him. Your cramps were still there but getting his cock inside of you helped somewhat, the pleasure overpowering it at times. You were loud, crying your moans out, your breaths, your huffs, and the yelling of his name.

His eyes were fixated now on your body, how it moved up and down thanks to his movements, your tear stained face, your open mouth that only let out filthy sounds, mumbling his name on the low in the haze of it all. You felt yourself start to flutter around his dick, the abuse against your g-spot making it an easy climax from the overstimulation. New tears prickled your eyes as your body jerked at every thrust, your belly coiling up, causing another cramp to happen. You whined loudly as your hips started meeting with his thrusts, desperately.

“Please, please, Eddie, my Alpha, more–” You were begging, pleading, imploring him to help you, because you were feeling good, but you weren’t at the same time because you needed more, your body still unsatisfied. You knew what it wanted, and it wasn’t just his knot. You wanted his bite.

“Tell me what you want.” You mewled as his thrusts turned deep, his hips coming to a slower pace and he circled them against you. You didn’t want to tell him, it is too embarrassing, knowing he is only doing this just for lust, and that he has done it with the rest, many times. Suddenly, a cry tore out from your mouth and you looked at Eddie with his teeth biting into your right calf. Your body jerked at the sudden bite, and your hands flew in reflex to try to grab him, but you weren’t strong enough to push yourself up and towards him.

“It hurts– Stop–” He growled as he pulled away from your skin, blood at the corner of his mouth, teeth glistening with a crimson hue. You looked at the bite, at his mark in your flesh and you chirped at the sight, wanting the same mark around your mating gland. It looked so pretty, so perfect, and it felt like you were owned. He hissed at you and his hips came to a halt, bottoming out inside of you. 

“Tell me what you want. I won’t continue until you tell me.” His jaw was clenched, the vein on his neck popping out from how much he was holding himself back from continuing your very destruction. You whined once more as you felt the burning of his bite on your calf, a drop of blood oozing out.

“I– I can’t– Not when you knotted… the others– embarrassing, Alpha, it’s embarrassing–” You were sobbing now, the pain from the past six months rushing back to you in a wave, clashing against the happiness you feel now, making you a bit dizzy from the mix of emotions. 

You heard him sigh and you dared to look at him through your tears, and he was looking down at you with a pained look. Why is he looking at you like that? Maybe it’s pity? Or maybe he feels sorry for how dumb you are? How naive? Or maybe–

“Oh my Omega… I have never knotted any of them.”

Your eyes fully opened at that, your heart thrumming in your chest as your body shook with excitement against your own will. What did he say? You saw his tongue darting out, his hand caressing your calf gently and pushing it towards his mouth so he can lick the wound clean. He side eyed you as he did this action, making your pussy clench around him, making the both of you hiss, remembering the position you are in.

“But– But I heard–”

“And I never complied.” He took his hands off your calf and the back of your left knee to lean forward. Your breathing was erratic, your hands immediately flying to hold onto his shoulders to pull him closer. His hands caged you in, one on each side of your head as he looked down at you. “-- I couldn’t comply.”

You blinked with confusion and doubt in your eyes. You wanted to believe him, you really wanted to, but– 

“Why?” Was the question flying out of your mouth and he leaned down towards you, his lips finding purchase on yours and you could only purr out of instinct, your heart exploding with happiness and joy inside your chest, trying to take the spotlight off of the thunder raging in your head.

Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, and your legs around his waist, pushing him into you. You both groaned at the action, making him pull away from the soft peck, his pupils back to being completely dilated and you moaned as his cock twitched inside of you. A growl escaped him as he quickly wrapped his arms around your frame and lifted you off the desk, a gasp leaving your lips and your grip tightened all around him.

You knew his instincts kicked in again, his mind clouded once more, but the knowledge that he never knotted the others was starting to settle in your head, and it was slowly making you go back to that state of mind where the only thing that mattered was being bred and knotted by the Alpha that was holding you tightly in his arms.

You felt yourself being lowered and the carpet hit your back, your eyes finding the ceiling once again. His hands grabbed onto your knees and he pulled them away from himself, making you untangle your legs from his waist. He bared his teeth at you as you didn’t let go of his shoulders, and you quickly complied, submitting yourself to him.

“Good Omega. My Omega.” He suddenly pulled out from you as he kneeled back and you whined with a sob, lifting yourself with help of your elbows to look at him.

“NO! Alpha, please, I need your knot, please– Why are you doing this? I–” His hand pressed against your chest and pushed you back down, snarling at you to let him work. You gasped when he grabbed onto your knees, keeping them apart, but then roughly pushing them up towards your chest, and you felt your hips rising from the ground, bending your body slightly.

His knees were now on each side of your hips as he leaned forward, towering over your frame, his cock twitching and your eyes could see the base of his cock pulsating, ready for his knot to pop. You purred and salivated at it, wanting it, desiring it, needing it and then you realized–

You were put in a mating press.

His cock went in with one harsh thrust, and you swear you could feel him at the back of your throat as you threw your head back. Your hands grabbed onto the carpet below you for some grounding, but you only let yourself smile in pleasure, in bliss, as you felt him burn inside of you. 

His knuckles were white from how hard his grip was on your knees to keep you in that position. A position that helps with fecundation. He groaned loudly when you clenched around him, your climax coming back to you as if it had never left moments ago. Your belly ached, cramped, turned, but most of all, it burned. It was burning you with the need of release, the need to be filled, the need of him.

His thrusts started quick and powerful, knocking the breath out of you at each jerk, the carpet burning your back as you rubbed it back and forth. You couldn’t care less. Not the burn of the back or the pain of your wrists or the bite on your calf. He could hurt you, bend you, break you, and you would be fine with all of that. At least, you mean something to him that way. Something different than the rest.

“Mine. Mine. Mine. You’re fucking mine.” He growled, over and over again while he fucked into you like a madman, like an animal. He was sweating, your eyes following every drop, his hair clinging to the sides of his face, and he was the most beautiful person in this whole wide world. He is calling you his, maybe thanks to his small triggered rut, but you had no time to feel the pain of that realization yet.

“Alpha, it feels so good. Fill me up, please, pretty please–” You didn’t recognize your voice. Needy, dripping with lust and pleasure, and you don’t remember a single time you talked like this. Not even when you shared your heats with your ex. You never begged like this. This is what a scent mate does to someone. It turns you fucking stupid.

The slapping of skin was filthy, wet sounds following them because your slick was being produced at each thrust of his. It was probably a mess, and you know it because you turned your head to see the edge of the desk you laid on moments ago, and the side had your slick dripping down in a single streak towards the floor, and a small pool of it formed at the foot of the desk. 

His thighs were drenched in you, and you moaned loudly at the thought, your eyes returning to meet his. He moaned your name under his breath and you trembled at the sound of it. He called you by your name, not rose, not omega. Your name. It made your belly come closer and closer to the edge, pussy fluttering and clenching all around him as he continued his powerful thrusts.

Your vision became blurry as tears mixed with how cockdrunk you became, but you could see a thin silver necklace dangling from his neck, back and forth. Your nails dug into the carpet underneath you as your breath picked up a pace, feeling the coil in your stomach and belly turn wildly, your orgasm threatening you to explode at any second. 

“Alpha– Alpha– I’m–” And he grunted as your eyes widened with a surprised gasp when you felt the beginning of his knot start to hit your entrance. You could feel it popping in and then back out, his teeth bared and he finally looked at you, a yellow glint flashing in his eyes as he stared down at you.

“I’m going to knot you. I’m going to knot you and breed you, over and over and over again… And I’m going to mate you.” You didn’t know if you were making it up, you didn’t know anymore. It sounded way too good to be true– “Oh, you don’t believe me?” 

Your eyes widened, shock washing over you as you tried to talk, only for loud cries to escape your lips when his thrusts became hard, rough, and the knot started swelling more and more, making it a little painful when it started popping in and out of you. Your mind was a haze, the only need being his knot. His knot. His knot.

“Alph–” You couldn’t talk because of this position, which was a bit straining, and the air was just simply knocked out of you at each thrust. You couldn’t breathe properly, feeling as if you were going to pass out. His teeth were now bared, fangs just slightly enlarged, snarling as he huffed in pleasure.

“You’re mine. All mine. Forever mine, my omega.” Your pussy clenched at the words, your mind no longer your own, and you cried out as your climax finally hit you, tightening all around his cock and now, his knot swelling instantly, impossible to pull out without hurting you, so he braced himself on his knees to push deep into you, and then he moaned loudly as his breath trembled when he locked himself inside of you, his cum filling your belly.

Your pussy milked him as your cramps finally stopped, leaving you in the stars. Your trembling was intense as you felt him spill inside of you and the more you clenched, the more cum he let out. It was never ending, the both of you moaning, groaning, and purring. He moved his hips once, a whimper leaving your lips and a growl rumbling in his chest.

He let go of your knees, his breathing heavy, his nostrils flaring as he leaned forward, his upper body bending as one hand cradles the back of your head, while the other holds your left bicep. His eyes clashed with yours, breaths intertwining between the two of you, chests heaving as the scents inside the room made your head spin.

He leaned down and you felt him lick the scent gland on your neck, his cock twitching inside of you and you swore you could feel more cum leaking out from him. You groaned, your eyes closing as he tasted you. His chest rumbled as he pressed his own scent gland against yours, true to his word. He cleansed the other alpha’s smell from you, replacing it with his own. He then proceeded to scent your mating gland, which only broke you.

He marked you in ways he probably doesn’t understand. After this, the two of you will go back to boss and secretary. You will have to leave, leaving this, leaving him behind you. Turn him into your past. You will probably have to go to an omegan therapist after this, and you would also leave Robin–

And the world stopped.

Everything. The universe. The stars. Your own breath. Your heart. Time itself. What…?

And then, fire. Fire spreading all over you coming from your mating gland. Your mating gland that was suddenly bitten into by the alpha that had his knot deep inside of you. You were bitten. He bit you. He claimed you. You were now his. 

A scream ripped out from your chest as another orgasm came crashing out of nowhere, clenching around him like a vice, milking him even more. He moaned into your skin, the hand on the back of your head holding you tightly as you shook underneath him. You didn’t understand anything. He was telling the truth. Eddie… Your– Your Alpha. He was your alpha now. For real.

He pulled away from you with a gasp for air, your blood all over his lips and teeth. You could feel his pleasure. His joy. His desire. His fear. His nervousness. His ecstasy. His delightfulness. Everything. He pressed a soft kiss on your lips, your shock still apparent, even if the kiss sent a million jolts of electricity through your body.

He pulled away with a chuckle and he proceeded to lean down again, pushing your head into his own mating gland this time. Your eyes were lost as you wondered what he wanted, his smell slowly bringing you down to earth once more, time moving again, the stars and the universe continuing their course.

“Bite me. Bite me back Omega.” Surprise was displayed on your features as soon as he said those words. It wasn’t common for omegas to bite their alphas back to seal the bond, the mating process, but people say it’s for the bond to be permanent, for eternity, for the mates to find eachother in this time and the next.

Your hands went towards his back, your nails dragging across his shirt, he never took it off. You could feel how damp it was thanks to the sweat, clinging to his body, and now– your eyes filled with tears, knowing now that he also knew you were his scent mate. This was never one sided. You have a lot of questions to ask him, but now… right now–

Your small fangs pierced through his mating gland.

He gave a small whimper as you felt iron filling your mouth. His blood. His scent. He was now all over you, and inside of you, in every sense and way possible. You moaned at his taste when you felt him twitch inside of you once more, his knot pulsing. You couldn’t believe it. As you retreated your mouth from him and laid your head back down on the carpet, you finally smiled.

He looked down at you, and you knew he was hoping you weren’t mad at him. He took your liberty and freedom in a single night thanks to his jealousy. To his possessiveness. To his fear of losing you. Your right hand moved towards his face, caressing his cheek gently, and he gave you a reassuring smile, closing his eyes, leaning towards your touch.

This is the first time you saw him like this. Vulnerable. A true smile of happiness on his lips, and it was all because of you. How could you be mad at him when he gave you what you’ve been wanting for the past six months you’ve known him? Something you didn’t think was possible, or that it was just in your head, or it was simply one sided? No… You could never be mad at him for it.

“My Alpha…” You whispered, your breaths starting to slow down as exhaustion started to wash over you, knowing your body will ache the following day, but you couldn’t care less. His eyes opened again, and he leaned down to press a soft kiss on your lips, a huff escaping his nose in pure delight. He pulled away a second later, his right hand caressing the side of your face, wiping your tears away. Tears you didn’t notice had fallen down your eyes.

“My Omega… Mine only… so dumb for not realizing what I was trying to say…” Your eyes closed as a satisfied sigh escaped your lips, relief washing over you. His hand kept caressing your face, his soft lips pressing on your forehead, your cheek, tender and caring. Keeping you safe in his arms, his embrace being your safest nest, at least for tonight.

“Eddie…” You mumbled as your consciousness started to slip away as slumber started to overtake you. You heard your name being called out by him after a soft kiss was pressed against your forehead. Your heart now filled with joy, your mating gland ablaze, but you could not feel the pain. 

“Rest darling… I’ll keep you safe.” 

And then, darkness.

His back was against the headboard of the bed hidden inside his office. He just had to press a button and a bookcase would fall down to reveal itself as a king sized mattress. He held his cellphone on his left hand, calling on Chrissy while his right arm was around your sleeping frame, completely knocked out as you laid on your side, your head on his chest and right hand over his heart. 

Once he knew his knot had deflated, he got you both in a more comfortable position. He will have to explain himself to you but now, he had to–

“Tell me you didn’t boss.” Chrissy’s voice blasted in his ear, making him hiss and pull the phone away from him. His fingers were softly brushing your back, keeping you asleep.

“It is done.” His voice was low as he looked down at you, your breaths coming out from your mouth evenly and calm. A soft smile appeared on his lips, feeling the wound of your bite pulsing and burning on his shoulder, but it only made him happier. He heard Chrissy letting out an exasperated sigh on the other side of the phone, making his smile fall and look out the window.

“We haven’t solved the issue with the Hagans. You had to wait until that was finished! They will now know about your mate and target her!” His jaw clenched as his arm tightened around your frame, making you whimper slightly at the tightness but not in pain, just a sound in your sleep. 

“I won’t let them touch her, you know that.” Chrissy sighed once more. He knew his right hand was right, but he couldn’t– “Chris, I couldn’t let her slip away from me. She is my scent mate. It was going to happen sooner or later, and the other omegas were not a useful distraction any longer.”

“I know Eddie…” There was a moment of silence before Chrissy continued talking, “but it doesn’t take away the fact that she will be targeted from now on. Something you were trying to avoid all this while by keeping your distance… So, what now?”

And Eddie pondered. He looked out the window as his mind worked, the need to protect you now ten times bigger, may he say twenty thanks to the bond. You two are mated for life now. In this life and the next, and the next, and he has to protect you with everything that he is, even if his own life is at risk.

“Then I guess I have to kill Tommy once and for all and take the clan for myself.” Chrissy remained silent on the other side. It wasn’t how it was supposed to go at all. He was going to do it peacefully, but Tommy was not a bright or reasonable leader. He was never happy about Eddie’s negotiations, always threatening him and his group, and Eddie knows he will threaten your life in order to get what he wants.

So he prefers to have Tommy’s head in his hands than wait for him to do something stupid.

“Alright… It’s settled.” He hears a rustling of papers, knowing she is taking down notes. He feels you stir slightly, but you just fixed your head on his chest, letting out a soft sigh as you kept sleeping. “And then?”

Eddie frowned in thought and looked down at your frame. A smirk spread on his face as he looked all over your body, his eyes resting over your waist, seeing your belly from the side.

“Get me a house. Somewhere residential, private, secure.” His voice was imperative, and he knew Chrissy was going to comply with no questions asked.

“Alright. How many rooms?” And his lips pressed on the top of your head as a smile spread on them, almost wickedly so.

“Let’s start… with four.”

End

a/n: time to get bred ig, hope u enjoyed, don't forget to leave a reblog, a comment on the reblog doesn't hurt either pretty pls

[invinciblerodent]

This is going to be very ranty and disjointed, probably borderline incomprehensible post, but with the "return" of Dragon Age Discourse (and really, did it ever go anywhere?) and me repeatedly seeing the complaints and dismissals of DA:I as a "chosen one"-type of a narrative, I just.... I keep finding myself thinking about the relationship of truth and lies within the game.

Throughout the course of DA:I, the idea of a malleable, flexible personal identity, and a painful confrontation with an uncomfortable truth replacing a soothing falsehood, follows pretty much every character throughout their respective arcs.

There are some more obvious ones, Solas, Blackwall, The Iron Bull, their identities and deceptions (of both those around them and themselves) are clearly front and center in the stories told about them, but this theme of deception (both of the self- and the outside world) is clearly present in the stories of the others as well.

Like, for example, ones that come immediately to mind are stories like that of Cullen, who presents an image of a composed and disciplined military man, a commander- all to hide the desperate and traumatized addict that he sees himself as.

Dorian grappled with the expectations of presenting the image of the perfect heir to his father's legacy, the prideful scion of his house, his entire life (he even introduces himself as the result of "careful breeding", like one might speak about a prized horse)- all while knowing that his family would rather see him lobotomized and obedient, than anything even just resembling his vibrant and passionate self.

Cassandra calls herself a Seeker of Truth, and takes pride in that identity- only to learn that in reality, she has been made a liar, a keeper of secrets, without her knowledge or consent, and it is up to her to either uproot the entire organization and painfully cut out the abscess it is to build it back from the ground up into something respectable, or let the information she had revealed sit, and continue to fester.

And this theme continues and reframes itself in, among others, things like Sera's own inner conflict between her elven heritage and her human upbringing, or in Cole being caught in this unconscionable space in-between human and spirit, between person and concept, etc.

The Inquisitor isn't exempt from this either.

I feel like this is where the core of the many misunderstandings of this plot come from, why so many people continue to believe that Inquisition is a "chosen one" or "divinely appointed" type of story, because I think many might just... not realize, that the protagonist's identity is also malleable, and what they are told in the setup/first act of the game is not necessarily the truth.

The tale of the Inquisitor is the exact opposite of that of a "chosen one" story: it's an examination and reflection of the trope, in that it is the story of an assumption that all wrongly believe to be the truth, and thrust upon you, even if you protest. The very point is that no matter who you choose to say that you are, you will be known as the Herald of a prophet you don't even necessarily believe in, and then that belief will be proven wrong, leaving you to cope with either a devastating disappointment if you believed it, or a bitter kind of vindication if you didn't.

There's a moment just after Here Lies the Abyss (when you learn of the lie you've been fed your entire journey in the game) that I don't often see mentioned, but I think it's one of the most emotionally impactful character moments, if you are playing an Andrastian Inquisitor who had actually believed themselves chosen (which I realize is a rather unpopular pick, lol): it's when Ser Ruth, a Grey Warden, realizes what she had done and is horrified by her own deeds, and turns herself in asking to be tried for the murder of another of her order. As far as she is concerned, she had spilled blood for power, and regardless of whether she was acting of her own volition at the time, whether she had agency in the moment, is irrelevant to her: she seeks no absolution, but willingly submits to any punishment you see fit.

And only if you play as an Inquisitor who, through prior dialogue choices, had established themselves as a devout Andrastian, can you offer her forgiveness, for a deed that was objectively not her fault- not really.

You can, in Andraste's name, forgive her- even though you, at that point, know that you have no real right to do so. That you're not Andraste's Herald, that Andraste may or may not even exist, and that you can't grant anyone "divine forgiveness", because you, yourself, don't have a drop of divinity within you. You know that you were no more than an unlucky idiot who stumbled their way into meddling with forces beyond their ken.

You know you're a fraud. You know. The game forces you to realize, as it slowly drip-drip-drips the memories knocked loose by the blast back into your head, that what all have been telling you that you are up to this point, is false. And yet, you can still choose to keep up the lie, and tell this woman who stands in front of you with blood on her hands and tears in her eyes, that you, with authority you don't have, grant her forgiveness for a crime that wasn't hers to commit.

Because it's the right thing to do. Because to lie to Ser Ruth is far kinder than anything else you could possibly do to her, short of refusing to make a decision altogether.

There are any number of criticisms of this game that I can accept (I may or may not agree depending on what it is, but I'm from the school of thought that any interpretation can be equally valid as long as there's text that supports it, and no text that contradicts it), but I will always continue to uphold that the Inquisitor is absolutely not- and never was a "chosen one".

They're just as small, and sad, and lost, as all the other protagonists- the only difference is that they didn't need to fight for their mantle, because instead of a symbol of honor, it acted as a straitjacket.

[kashimos-hajime]

—dissolve | fushiguro toji

summary: he tosses the pregnancy test aside, digs into his pocket, rips out his wallet, and flips it open, fishing out the few bills he has and sticking his hand out towards you.

“take the money and get rid of it.”

WARNINGS: pregnancy, angst, violence, mentions of sex work, emotional constipation and rep of ptsd pairing: fushiguro toji x fem!reader word count: 18.5k

a/n: came back from the dead to post this. i swear TO GOD!!! that this is not a pregnancy fic. in fact, it's arguably worse because it's a plot point instead. excuse any editing mistakes.

obligatory toji might be ooc warning, but we literally have never seen him act normal outside of his job so i make due w what i got.

inspired by dissolve by joji

on ao3 woohoo

(exposition)

Toji’s made a fair few mistakes in his life. It’s hard to count on his fingers alone how many he’s made, but this has to be on the top of the fucking list.

“What do you want me to do with this information?” he spits as he pulls his pants on past his waist. His skin is burning, flushed red from the haze of sex, or maybe it’s the scoring of your nails down his back. His chest feels like it’s stinging. 

You’re standing before him, raw power, untapped fury. You’re an unpredictability he has never encountered—you drive him crazy. 

You’re also an avid, self-proclaimed misanthrope (ironic, given your profession, and more than a lie, given that Toji knows you), so the fact that he’s still standing here and you haven’t flung a bottle at him once during this whole charade they’ve got going on is admirable.

You don’t look at him, but there’s slick dripping down your thigh, and he’s honestly surprised you’re standing so soon after he’s made a permanent indent into the bed in the shape of your body, but then again, he’s known you for a while now. You’ve always been stubborn, proud, and never want to be seen waiting on anything, so while he’s standing there, staring apathetically at your back, you busy yourself with straightening out bed.

Red neon lights. Men, women, people, all roaming halls, hidden behind purple gauze and thick smoke.

They said the one he’d paid for would be the last one on the left.

Shit, he’s sweating like crazy.

“I don’t know,” you say, tossing the stick behind you without looking. He catches it easily, and stares at the tiny plus sign before looking back at you. You’re rubbing your face with the heel of your hand, and when you turn your head, he sees the frustration etched onto your face. “I don’t know what you can do.”

Toji pulls the door aside, and the figure on the bed looks up, painted lips parting in surprise. He beats you to the punch. “You’re the doctor.”

“You’re the fucked up guy from the clinic.”

And, because Toji has faced real commitment once and lost it just as quickly, he does the one thing he knows best.

He tosses the pregnancy test aside, digs into his pocket, rips out his wallet, and flips it open, fishing out the few bills he has and sticking his hand out towards you.

“Take the money and get rid of it,” he says, but it edges more on an order. You slant your body, frustration dissolving into disbelief at his offer, and your eyes flutter from his hands to his face before your eyebrows furrow together. Your mouth drops open and snaps shut just as quickly, then you’re bending over to gather the closest thing you have to cover yourself. 

You shimmy into a shirt you’ve stolen from him, the one with the worn hole at the back of the neck, and threads coming loose at the sleeves.

Just another mistake he’s made letting you steal from him.

“You don’t get to fuck a kid into me only to tell me to get rid of it, Toji.” You straighten up, and walk up to his proffered hand. Snatching the bills, you smash them into his chest, your palm hitting him square in the sternum. His lungs hitch, but you walk past him to the kitchen and he’s left to watch the bills flutter to the ground. 

Turning around, Toji walks after you, ignoring his hard-earned money smearing the floor. It’s the last thing on his mind, nestled somewhere at the bottom with sex and affection.

Your presence, mellow and tired and unsure, mirrors him. 

It’s probably the realest thing Toji has right now.

“Do you want tea?” you ask without turning around to make sure he’s followed because you know he has, setting the kettle on the stove with a bit less finesse than normal.

“It’s three AM.”

“I didn’t know my question was made redundant,” you snap, and Toji wants to throw a book at your head, so he settles on scowling and grabbing a mug that’s designated as his and sets it on the counter, sliding it over to you. You stop it before it can crash and when they’re pouring over their cups of chamomile in the dead of night, on opposite sides of the kitchen island and illuminated by the single lamp turned on overhead, Toji thinks of you as a mother, carrying a child on your shoulders.

The image comes to him at an uncomfortably quick pace, and he checks his phone. He has a contract, and race bets to make, and he looks at you again. You’re already watching him, mouth hidden behind a mug with a dog painted on the side.

“Megumi is coming over,” he grunts, setting his phone back down on the counter and lifting his mug.

“And if I’m busy?” you ask, because it’s routine that you say it whenever he decides to leave his son in your hands. And they need routine. They need this charade to avoid the storm growing above their heads.

“I’m dumping him on your doorstep,” he answers, “and I’m leaving.”

.

You don’t text him while he’s out on the job, not even your usual restrained good luck.

It’s three days before he comes back, and when he lets himself in with the spare key you keep behind the loose ninth brick on the right of your door, in the fifth row off the ground, you don’t bring it up.

Mostly because Megumi is fast asleep under your arm, and you’re asleep with him, curled around the two-and-a-half year old baby like he’s the one thing you have to protect with your life. Toji doesn’t wake you, but he does remove your arm to pick up his little boy and Megumi knows his father better than anyone. The tiny bundle immediately tries to make fists at Toji’s shirt, and lets out an incoherent whine at being disturbed before burying his chubby little face into his father’s chest.

You shift in your sleep, muttering nonsense. You’re sweating, the back of your shirt soaked when Toji leans over to look. There isn’t anything on the nearby low table except for paracetamol, a barely-finished bowl of okayu, countless tissues and a thermometer. The apartment is mostly a mess, with dirty dishes in the sink, and ingredients left on the countertops.

Toji can still hold his son with one hand, so he uses his free hand to touch the baby’s forehead to find it slightly warm, and then, because he has nothing better to do, he crouches beside you on the couch, and touches your brow, too. Your face is shining with more sweat, and there’s a feverish twitch in your face when his fingertips meet your skin. You let out a soft snorting noise, and he grins blandly.

“You’re pregnant, huh,” he mutters, mostly to himself. Your eyes flutter open, and find his with a tired precision, before you let them shut again. “Hey.” You turn your face into the couch, and let out a crackled moan.

“Your son is sick,” you tell him instead, voice muffled by the couch. “He has the fucking flu.”

“His fever broke,” answers Toji. “Get up and shower.”

“I can’t. My body molded to the couch.” Your voice is thin with fire, hoarse with exhaustion. You’re a burnt out candle still smouldering, and when he touches your simmering cheek, you hiss, slapping his hand and grabbing the nearest cushion, burying your head beneath it. “Stop it. Just take your son and leave me the fuck alone.”

“Shower,” he barks. 

“Go fuck yourself,” you reply with the same burning annoyance.

Megumi yawns, ignorant of it all.

.

You work at a clinic, but call in sick for the next two weeks. Toji knows because he walks past the clinic sometimes on habit on his way back home, depending on the hour. You go on your smoke break at the same time if you can help it, and he’d catch you in an alleyway two blocks down because no one wants to see that their doctor smokes. There’d be a Mild Seven dangling from your mouth, and you’d eye him with an arched eyebrow, but you never questioned his appearance.

Sometimes, he walks you back even though you never ask him to, a new-burning cigarette slung from his lips, and he complains about your shitty taste in cigarette brands.

And you will always ask why he always takes the Mild Seven you offer, and he dismisses it with a shrug, some flimsy excuse of never biting the hand that feeds you.

Toji’s accustomed to stalling coming back just so he can walk past the clinic on his way home, or sometimes, he leaves the apartment with an excuse of groceries for Megumi just in case you’re there, doctor’s coat shed and a ratty hoodie pulled over your frame to hide the scrubs you don’t bother to change out of.

You aren’t smoking on your break when he finds you on one such ‘grocery trip’, but you’re still in the same alleyway.

“Toji,” you say before he’s even fully appeared at the lip of the alley, and you look up, pulling the hood away from your face. You look awful—swollen eye bags, peeling lips. There’s barely any life to your face, and you regard him wearily, something clicking in your hand. Upon closer inspection, it’s your lighter, and your thumb flicking it open and shut.

“What’s wrong with you?” He walks closer, but doesn’t lean on the wall. You look like you’ll lash out if he even so much as breathes in your direction. A rat skitters by his foot. “Don’t tell me it’s that fucking flu and you’re still contagious.”

“I’m pregnant,” you answer dryly. “And I have a nicotine addiction.”

“Smoke a cigarette,” he suggests, moving a hand to his pocket.

“I’m keeping the baby,” you reply. He pauses, blinks, and you only lift your chin at him, folding your hands behind you against the wall. Stretching your legs farther out over the concrete, you sink a few inches down. “So, I can’t smoke.”

“You’re keeping it?” Clenching his jaw, he scowls. “If this is to spite me—“

“Do you think I’m a fucking idiot? I don’t use human lives as playing cards.” Tilting your head back against the wall, you close your eyes. “Or human lives-to-be.”

“So, why the fuck—“

Your head jerks up. “Because I want this kid, okay? Is that so hard to fucking understand?”

“Maybe.” He shoves his hands into his pockets before laughing. “You’re barely a functioning person. What makes you think you’re fit to be a parent?”

“Like you’re the perfect father for Megumi,” you retort dryly. “I don’t have to justify my choices to you, and I don’t care if you’re in your child’s life. For all you care, this isn’t your child.”

Defensively: “But it is.”

“It doesn’t have to be. I’m giving you a way out,” you dismiss aloofly, pushing off the wall and straightening up. Meeting his gaze, you square your shoulders to his, and cross your arms over your chest. “I’m just that bitch you fuck when you’re bored, and you dump your son on me whenever you feel like it. You walk all over me, and I let you. At least you used to pay me for my services.” Toji’s blood begins to burn at the utter disgust and disappointment in your expression. “Do you think I don’t know what I am to you?”

And for a brief moment, Toji is speechless. Not because you’ve shocked him into silence, because he isn’t shocked, but because he genuinely doesn’t know what to say next. Every possible answer he has is shot down by rationale, and you search his face for any sort of response.

You find none.

Another mistake he’s made in his life is tallied down in some imaginary record when he runs out of time.

With a scoff, you shove past him, and disappear around the corner.

He doesn’t chase after you. 

Toji’s just not that kind of guy.

Instead, he takes the newly-purchased box of Mild Sevens from his pocket, flips it open to retrieve a fresh cig, and lights it, cupping the end and inhaling as deeply as he can. 

Pinching the cigarette between two fingers, he leans to the side in that alleyway and spits out a wad of saliva, the taste of the cigarette even sharper than normal.

“God, it tastes like shit,” he sighs to no one before inhaling again.

.

Toji’s kinda sorta fucked up.

He knows that doesn’t escape your notice. It’s how they first met after all—him a nineteen year old lumbering mess of blood and bruises, walking into the clinic mere minutes before your shift ended. You’d just been an intern taking the graveyard shift, and he’d pushed in, chin lifted high, eyes narrowed, finding yours.

“You the doctor?”

How did it spiral into this?

You snip the final suture shut on his shoulder and set the tools down, carefully piling the packaging together.

“Get outta here,” you tell him, slapping his shoulder to urge him off. You turn, disposing the trash, ripping off your gloves in the process.

“How’s the kid?”

“Megumi’s fine. He likes avocados now since I gave him slices with condensed milk on them,” you reply shortly. “Can you leave now?”

“I meant the baby,” he informs brusquely.

If it surprises you, you don’t let it show. “That is none of your business. Leave me alone.”

When he doesn’t budge, you stand there for a moment until he turns to look at you. In your scrubs, face clear but weighed down by exhaustion, you remind him of an exasperated cat owner. Hands on your hips, you worry your bottom lip until you realize he isn’t going anywhere he doesn’t want to and you sigh, gesturing for him to move over on the examination bench. Wedging yourself beside him, you grab onto the lip of the cushion and lean forward, shoulders hunching, head bowed. 

“What do you want to know?” you ask acridly. “I crave sriracha on everything, I puke, I feel exhausted, I want to smoke all the time, and I cry pretty much every night.”

Blinking, Toji opens his mouth to say something witty. He only barely manages out a quiet: “You don’t even like sriracha.”

“I know.” Miserably, you lift your head and let out a sigh that seems to take all the strength with you. “What do you want from me, Toji?”

“I was just asking how you were doing.”

“You never do that unless you want something,” you counter, looking at him. Your eyes are swollen, but Toji doesn’t know if it’s from crying or some other reason, and you smell like three day old clothes. Your gaze searches his, then flutters to a slightly crooked nose, to his lips, to the scars littering his chest. “I’ve known you for years. You disappeared on me, and you came back with a son and a new name, and I never asked questions, but you had to have known.”

“Known what?”

You don’t answer him. Toji isn’t sure if he’s grateful or irritated for it. “What happened to you, you idiot?” Your tone is somber, unbearably faint. It makes your words that much more nauseating. “Why did you come back to me?” He blinks, staring, and your gaze lowers. You quietly tag something to the end of your sentence only to yourself and he is punched by every syllable of the word you utter, every syllable you aren’t aware he can hear.

“Fushi-guro, huh.”

Sliding off the examination table, you smooth out your scrubs and make to leave. “Never mind. I think I’m just exhausted.” 

You reach the door handle. He watches. Footsteps softened by the sound of your crocs, you don’t bother to hide the effects of him keeping you overtime at three AM in the morning, because he’s bleeding and soiled and disgusting, has done to your spirit.

“I got married,” he calls, halting you by the door. Your shoulders have fallen, and your hand on the door goes limp. Toji stares at your back, and wonders when he became so intimately aware of the slope of your shoulders and how they sink even more in defeat when you understand what he’s saying. “She died when Megumi was… nine months old? I dunno. Blood disease, some shit like that.”

Your head turns enough that he can see a sliver of your face—you look pretty in the dim lights of the exam room. All soft edges, sad melted honey at the bottom of cold tea. Forgotten, distasteful. Like you can hold him carefully, and none of the jagged pieces he’s made of will slice your palms open. You look so much younger. 

Like the nineteen year old you were when he came to you in that room of purple silk and candlelight. So tender. Human. It’s been nearly ten years since then, and it feels so much longer.

“I’m so sorry,” you tell him, and he knows you mean it.

You leave to change, and come back to find him waiting in the receptionist area, a shadow in the pitch black as you set the security alarm before you go.

“Get out,” you tell him again, and this time, he complies and waits for you in the chilly night instead.

Toji walks you home, despite your unvoiced protest, and he pretends he doesn’t notice that his hand brushes against yours until their index fingers are hooked onto one another. Your gaze flits to him every once in a while, but he merely rakes his other hand through his hair, lips puckered around a smoke before he’s sliding that trembling hand of yours into his pocket.

“Megumi’s still asleep,” you tell him at the door. He leans over without meaning to as he watches your hands fiddle with the lock and key. Turning over your shoulder, you catch him staring, and arch an eyebrow. “What?”

“Nothing.” And he looks away.

You open the door and walk in, turning back when he doesn’t follow. Scowling, you swing your door open wider as you toe off your sneakers. “Are you coming in or not?”

He frowns. “Yeah, sure.”

Tonight, Toji’s not in the mood for sex, and you can barely stand on your two feet without swaying, so while you go to shower, he heads for the guest room that’s been changed into a makeshift bedroom for a two-year old boy who’s fast asleep, his snores filling up the room when Toji pushes in, careful to not let too much light seep in. 

Sneaking across to the crib, he reaches within to pick up his son, and Megumi, never the fussy child, only lets out a little noise of complaint before falling back asleep on Toji’s shoulder. He pats Megumi’s back, pacing around the room and gently bouncing him up and down into a deeper sleep. The walls are littered with terrible drawings Megumi’s made, but they’re hung like art pieces in the Louvre, and Toji stands by the column of light the door lets in, watching the sharp shadows it carves.

Everything still, he waits for something to appear. 

Nothing.

 Sticking out a hand, he splits his fingers into a shadow puppet of a dog, and opens its jaws a few time in a silent bark.

He knows his son has the Technique. He’s seen the hints of it ever since Megumi turned two—shadows flickering when Megumi claps his hands together, the Cursed Energy Toji can sense radiating off of the kid. It won’t be long before some rat starts looking for the inheritor of the Ten Shadows Technique as their new prince.

He sighs. It’s just another thing from his shitshow family to worry about.

“I’ve got blankets and pillows on the couch,” you tell him by the door, and he drops his hand, heat rushing up his face as you poke your head in to see him. Although he can’t make out your expression too well, Toji knows he doesn’t imagine the way your eyes soften when you look at Megumi. “I’m going to go to bed now. See you in the morning. Maybe.”

He nods, and you slip out of the room just as quickly, your bedroom door shutting a moment later.

 He heads to the living room, shedding his jacket and collapsing on the couch with a tired groan. The only light is moonlight filtering through your vertical blinds. His shoulder still burns something fierce, the numbing gel wearing off, and he cups it, rolling onto his side. Through the bandages, he can feel the even stitches you’ve knitted into his flesh, the delicate accuracy of the thread and needle. 

Staring at the table, he blinks at the tablets resting on a napkin right in front of him beside a glass of water, and he sits up.

The pill bottle rests nearby, and he grabs it, eyeing the ingredients. It’s some over-the-counter pain killers, but there’s sharpie that’s covered a lot of the text. Screwing up his eyes, he makes out the first character, and, as his eyes adjust to the darkness, holds up the bottle to the faint moon so he can read the rest of it.

FOR MY HEARTACHES. DO NOT TOUCH.

Eyebrows scrunch. His eyes run it over it again to see if he’s being fucking crazy and reading into it too much.

He shoves the bottle back onto the table before he can do it one more time and grabs the pills, uncaring if the water spills as he gulps them down, shaking his head at the iciness that seeps into his blood from the water. 

Throwing himself back onto the couch, he punches the pillow into shape, and rolls onto his back, haphazardly tossing the blanket over himself and slamming his eyes shut in an effort to block out your neat, slanted writing.

“…I never asked questions, but you had to have known.”

The pain in his shoulder dulls, but there is nothing that can douse the cold fire of his own hatred.

.

“For your heartache?” he asks the morning after like it’s a talk one should have over the coffee he holds in his hand. You’re making yourself oatmeal after spending the first hour or so throwing up. You look ragged, and you glare at him for even speaking. 

Toji sets the pill bottle down, and he watches your expression carefully. Your jaw clenches, and you roll your eyes, stirring honey into your hot breakfast.

“Painkillers that work best for heartburn,” you tell him flatly, snatching the pill bottle and returning it to where it normally rests. “I got this at like two AM a few weeks ago. Why, what’s wrong with it?”

Your heart skips. He ignores the slowly speeding rhythm of your heart echoing in his own chest. “Just never pegged you for the poetic type.”

“Oh, because you peg me for so many other things. Please get your head out of your ass.”

The tension that melts out of his body is profuse, and his shoulders fall as Megumi, with his spoon, flicks cereal at his father with a giggle. And although the relief is overwhelming, there is a peculiar sinking feeling that far outweighs any positive connotation in the fact that he thought you could’ve liked him and your confirmation that you don’t.

He’s insane. 

He’s insane to have thought you could have possibly…

“You’re cleaning this up,” you order. “I need to go to work and I can’t be late. We’ll… talk later. I guess.”

…ever had feelings for him.

Toji goes to fetch some towels and ignores the fact that his insides feel like rotting. What’s it matter anyway?

Except…

No. He’s not thinking of back then. That’s a section of his past he wants to keep sealed in the past, and thats final.

.

His son wants to go to the park one day. It’s how Toji finds himself sitting on a park bench, sipping on his iced lemonade, his son on his thigh watching everyone around them, his tiny hands planted on his father’s knee. Said father scrolls on his phone, reading his emails through his shades, but he always makes sure to kepe an eye out on their surroundings.

Opening up some bets, he leans back, settling his free hand on Megumi’s hip and raising his phone up as he looks through the races. 

“I want,” Megumi babbles.

“What do you want, ‘Gumi?” he asks, squinting against the sun. He should be getting results back for his last gamble in just a few minutes.

“I want dog.”

“Yeah?” Toji says as he lowers his phone and looks around them. “You wanna big one? How many?” There are a few dogs playing in the park around them, catching balls their owners through (“Go fetch!”) and a strange bitterness arises from him. He’s never been a dog person. Not with how he was raised to see them. 

Loyal beasts with no brain of their own. 

“Two!”

Meant to serve.

“Go fetch, dog. ”

Mindless.

“Papa.”

“And you dare call yourself my son?” 

“Papa.”

His phone buzzes, and he answers it like a habit. A swipe of his thumb. Behind his eyes flash a thousand purple bruises, and his scar aches like a sore on his lip as he lets out a tired breath.

“You were a mistake. You should’ve never been born.”

His world is so strangely silent. A curious, spreading emptiness seeps down the column of his throat and into his chest, inhabiting the giant space like a cloud of smoke as the line clicks, and he blinks at the sky. How many days had he stared at this sky, waiting for his world to grow infinitely bigger?

To escape that wretched place once and for all. He had the gall to do it, and the pit of curses had been colder than death.

If he could’ve just—

“Toji?” 

—given up.

“Hey.”

Your voice pierces the haze and he blinks, looking around. Megumi is clutching onto hs shirt with a tight fist, peering at him with frustration, and he uses his other hand to smack his dad in the chest. 

“You there?”

“Yeah.” He clears his throat. He sets a hand on Megumi’s head. His hair is so soft, and warm under the sun, and Toji wants to wrap his entire body around his tiny little boy, so he does the next best thing and hauls Megumi up onto his chest and swathes him with an arm. “Yeah, I’m here.”

“Is something wrong?”

“Nah. Why would you think that?”

“I dunno. You just sound off.”

“I’m fine. Can’t I enjoy a nice day in the park?” he remarks dryly, and you huff a snide, sarcastic laugh. 

“I guess you can. I was just wondering if you had plans in September.”

“That’s still a few weeks away.” He can hear your judgemental expression from where he sits so he adds, “No. Not yet. Why?”

“The Kichijoji Autumn Festival. I want to take Megumi.” You seem to speak to someone on the other end, and Toji looks down at his son who’s craned his head to examine everything around him. He wriggles until he’s facing forward, and Toji kisses the back of his son’s head grumpily. The idea of a big crowd never sits well with him. There are too many unseen variables, and too much noise.

“Doggy,” Megumi rambles, pointing out a stubby finger at a bounding labrador, trying to catch a frisbee with a massive leap and snagging it in its jaws.

“Is that okay?”

“What? Yeah. I’m going with you, though.”

“Fine. Yeah, alright! I’ll print it!” you shout away from the phone. With a tired sigh, you return. “Fucking idiot. Sorry. Work.” He shrugs, then says it’s fine, and you continue: “Are you going to be working a lot? I’m heading down to Osaka next week so I can’t take care of Megumi if you’re working.”

“Why?”

“Because… remember Hajime?”

“Skinny fuck with a big mouth. Talked too much.” A tall, lean guy who used to fuck with Toji as a teenager whenever he came to see you. He vaguely has an image of him in his head—cheeky smile, quick gaze, and an arrogance that was all a charade. The kid always knew when to shut up but he never did.

Maybe because he didn’t care. Toji had never seen his own pit eyes reflected in another boy before then, but Hajime still knew how to look like he was happy. Maybe that’s why Toji always let the boy bother him even when he was working maintenance around the House. 

He doesn’t think Hajime has ever smiled a day in his life. So, just like him, Toji knows your spot for your old colleague from the brothel is softer than you let on. 

“He’s not doing well,” you reveal. “I just want to be there when he passes and make it all easier for him. That’s all.”

His throat goes dry. “I see.” The unspoken question passes between them.

“Lung cancer metastasized.” You don’t let that sit for long. “So, it’ll probably be a bit before I see Megumi next.”

Words bite his tongue, and he debates letting them loose. But he wouldn’t. He’d never admit to it. “Probably. He’ll be fine, though.”

“I know.” A beat. “I’m just gonna miss him, you know. I want to see him before I leave.”

“Yeah.” And because it isn’t enough that you’ve been on the phone with him for this short while, he prolongs your hanging up with: “Yeah, you can do that. When do you go?”

“This Saturday. It was the first train I could get, so—” There’s a loud shout on the other end, and your pained groan— “Shit, sorry, I have to go. People don’t know how to do their fucking jobs around here,” you mutter foully, and Toji can’t help the small smile that stretches his lips. “See you when I see you.”

“Yeah.” The line clicks. Toji holds his phone there for a second more before drawing it away and staring at the his screen, His thumb swipes over the buttons to select his contacts, and it opens up to reveal lists of numbers in his history. They’d all been jobs, and he never bothers to write them down. The important numbers are memorized, but other than that, he’s never really kept a contact since he started working again.

Swiping to his saved contacts, there is one square there with a picture, and your name typed out in that little block font. Toji’s grip tightens as he clicks on your profile to enlarge the photo, and he scowls deeper at what it’s been set to. Rarely do they exchange photos, but the majority of the photos you ever send Toji are of Megumi, and in this one, it’s him sleeping soundly in your lap when he was still little.

Maybe ten months. He knows it’s a little after Megumi’s mom died because of how small his son is, and how Toji can’t remember this picture. That whole time period had been hazy. He had just focused on finding you, dumping his kid somewhere so he didn’t have to see the state his father was in, and going out to make enough money to make it last another fucking week.

A part of Toji knows now that you would never have turned him away even if you acted like you would. Even if he never had a baby with him. 

He snaps his phone shut. Your words still haunt him, and the more he dissects that moment—a sliver of a 3AM morning two weeks ago—he starts to wonder if he made another wrong choice eight years ago.

.

Here is where Toji finds himself Friday night: forced to do dishes while Megumi clings to your chest like a stupid fucking parasite. You lounge on the couch, relaxing your ass off. 

To be fair, and Toji rarely is, you had been called in an emergency consultation which resulted in you having to send your patient to the hospital after you couldn’t find out where the pain was coming from, and staying there because the patient had, quote unquote, no support system and was borderline hysterical with the symptoms.

 “She said she had these bruises on her legs and hips like someone was grabbing her, but I couldn’t find anything. I can’t deny that her pain is real—there’s no way she’s faking this for attention because she’s… sane. She knows she’s not making any sense and we had psych do an evaluation,” you had told him when they met up in front of your apartment door. He had takeout in one hand, and Megumi in the other as you jiggled the key in. “Nothing. It’s a mystery. Maybe she’s experiencing some type of phantom pain routed from trauma.”

And Toji knows the answer before you even suggest a logical conclusion.

“She still there?” he had asked.

“Sent her home. No valid medical reason, but I told her I’ll be away, and to call me if she needs anything.”

He scrubs the dish with a dinosaur design a bit too hard, and winces when he sees that the pink colour is fading, but other than that, it remains silent on his end of the apartment. You and Megumi have a nonsensical conversation at the couch and you turn on channel that has dogs on it somehow as he finishes up. He sniffs dish detergent scent clinging to his hands, nostrils twitching at how strong the lemon is before shaking his head and rinsing his hands again.

“Doggy.”

“Yeah. That’s what those are,” comes your lazy reply. Turning around, Toji wipes his hands dry to see you lying on your side on the couch, Megumi sitting in front of your chest. You have your arm draped over his lap and wrapping his waist loosely, but you look asleep where you are. Snorting to himself, he throws the towel down and shuts off the lights in the kitchen.

You raise your head blearily at the dim light you’ve sunken into.

“You finished?”

“Are you?” he shoots back, sinking into the loveseat near your head. You sigh, burying your face into a nearby cushion, and Megumi crawls towards his father, your hand falling to the sofa. “Go to bed if you’re tired.”

“I’m not tired,” you mutter. “I’m just sick of today.”

He picks his son up, setting Megumi on his chest and running his hand over his head. The boy’s dark downy hair spikes up, and Toji tucks his chin to press his nose to a smooth forehead. “Girl still on your mind?”

“Mhm.” You crane your head to look at both of them, and your stressed scowl melts away, the knot between your eyebrows easing as you reach across the gap to tickle Megumi’s tiny socked foot. Squealing, he kicks your hand away and you chuckle to yourself, pushing yourself onto your elbow to tickle him again. 

Crawling up his dad, Megumi’s chubby fists seek purchase as he scrambles to get away, and you laugh, a short, rusty noise. It sounds like a tool that doesn’t get used enough, and you cover your mouth when you laugh, a habit that Toji’s noticed you’ve kept over the years. Megumi’s complaining in his ear, but he can’t seem to tear his eyes away from the way your eyes crinkle when they shut from smiling.

Despite the eye bags, the way your cheeks have gotten puffy from throwing up, the way you shift every two seconds because something in your body’s upset one way or another—Toji finds the way your eyes smile the most brain-numbing thing. He could stare at it forever, but it’s so fleeting that he has the strangest urge to frame it in a picture. Considering rare is it that you’re ever smiling at him when Megumi isn’t with him (although it’s becoming more and more frequent these days), Toji doesn’t think he could’ve gotten used to your smile again.

When he was nineteen, directionless and searching for a place to make it through one day, you had bordered him up in your closet and asked the master of the house with your most charming smile to keep him around because “he’s real handy if he puts his mind to it. Just give him a chance—“

Toji swallows. Such an uncomplicated series of days. His mind always gets so fucking quiet around you. He doesn’t worry about the past, or the future, or any of the stresses of the present (money, food, whether he’ll survive his next contract and the next, long enough to teach Megumi how to throw a ball).

No, his mind is just blissfully silent, resting in the way your words bite at his ears, the way your laugh strums like a raspy harp. 

He doesn’t recall the last time it’s been this quiet as the dogs on the TV bark and Megumi echoes the noise, a sprite of light in the darkness of the living room. It makes you laugh. Makes him hear that warm noise again.

“Put him to bed,” you utter after a while. The documentary has finished, and your voice cracks as you wake up fully. Toji blinks, ripping his eyes away from the screen to see your sleepy face illuminated by the TV. Megumi’s gone quiet, his gentle snores puffing against his father’s jaw. “I’m gonna get into my own.”

“Alright.” He stands and you swing yourself up, tipping over a bit, and his knees lock when the urge seizes him to move forward to steady you. Stomach clenching, a harsh frown passes over his face and he turns around before you can spot it. Walking down the hall, he puts his baby boy to bed just as your shadow passes over the door. You poke your head in to mumble a goodnight again, before continuing on your way. Toji sits by his son’s bed until he falls asleep before he rises again. 

Closing the door behind him, Toji glances to your bedroom. There’s still a lamp on, and he wonders if you’ve just forgotten to turn it off (again), or if you’re still awake despite your previous promise, and for some reason, his feet lead him to this door. 

His hand raises to knock.

“Yeah?” you answer. He pushes in.

You’re on the bed, pushing your feet under the covers. You’re wearing nothing but a long shirt, and your face is soft, tired. You can barely keep your eyes open, and maybe that is what makes you so warm to him now. You don’t have the energy to be angry with him, their situation, for anything. 

“Toji?” you prompt, and he, without a second of hesitation, crawls into bed after you. Your brow furrows as he plants a hand by your thigh, but there is no defense as he pulls the covers away to get under with you. “What is it?”

“I’m staying here tonight. Making sure you don’t fuck yourself over for tomorrow,” he says simply, but the truth is, he hadn’t known that until he said it. Pulling his shirt off, he flings it to the foot of the bed and gets comfortable in his boxers underneath the coolness of your blankets. He’s always ran hotter than most. You keep yourself an appropriate distance, rolling onto your side to face him while he lies on his back.

This isn’t a very common occurence. Toji doesn’t know what to do with his hands, so he settles with just lacing them over his stomach, and when he turns to look at you, he finds you frowning thoughtfully.

“What’s wrong, Toji?” you prod quietly, resting your cheek on one of your hands. His eyelids flutter, invisible weight pushing them shut as he tries to scramble up an explanation. “We don’t do… this.”

“I’m just tired, I guess,” he grunts. Because, really, he has no idea why he’s here.

Why he’s in your apartment, in your life again. He left it for a reason.

“Okay,” you murmur. Your hand reaches to touch his bicep, and he can’t really remember that reason anymore. “My train’s early, so you’ll probably have to lock the door for me if you’re staying.”

You just rest your fingers there over the curve of his arm, thumb applying a soothing pressure into his eternally-aching body. Toji can feel your heat so clearly through your palm. A napalm grenade waiting to burst as soon as he lays a hand on you.

And he does, not even seconds later, grabbing your wrist and pulling you to him. 

“Stay here and sleep with me,” he whispers as your nose bumps into his, and it edges on an order without him meaning to. You swallow, exhaling shakily, and his eyes lift to yours. They’re dark, half-lidded but consumed with an unbearable desire for something that he doesn’t understand. Lifting a lethargic hand, he rests it heavily on your cheek. You arch an eyebrow, and he half-smiles limply, hauling you closer. 

You push yourself on top of him, sitting yourself over his hips, and fold your arms over yourself, fingers tugging at the lip of your shirt. Toji’s gaze widens as you lift it up to reveal a body he already knows every crevice of and he clenches his jaw, dark hair falling into his eyes. Hand shooting to grab your elbow, he stops you just as you slip your head and shoulder out, the shirt hanging off your other arm.

Your breasts are open for him to swing up and kiss, to bite marks into, and they heave gently as you breathe on top of him, perfectly still, your face a whirlwind of emotions as you try to make sense of him. He slides his hands down to your hips, and he presses his finger pads into your back in what he means as a soothing pressure. You let out a tiny sigh, wiggling a bit, and glance down at yourself. 

Your brow furrows. “Do… you not want to?”

“No, no, I…” He sighs, one hand reaching up to tilt your chin back up so you would stop staring at your body like that. You can’t ever think that—Toji won’t allow himself to let you go on thinking that you’re ugly. “It’s not that. I just didn’t mean it like that.”

“Huh?” You frown. He lets go of your chin and trails his hand down your chest, eyes watching his own fingers drift past your belly button until he rests on your abdomen. His lungs seize at the way it rises and falls against his palm. The fat he normally loves to grab and smear kisses all over while your legs shake over his shoulders is so familiar in his grasp. You’re still not showing though. Sometimes, Toji forgets that there’s a fucking kid—his fucking kid—growing inside you, but right now, it’s all he’s intimately aware of.

“It came out wrong.” He grimaces. “I meant… I’ll sleep with you. In the same bed tonight.” He strokes your stomach before grabbing the back of your neck and bringing you down to his level. Bending over, your lips meet his warmly, and you melt into his grasp, legs stretching over his, waist unfurling to lay flush against his body. Your arms sink into the pillow, and your fingers seek purchase in the fabric. Thumb on your chin, he gently pulls your back and he drags his nose along yours, inhaling the smell of your body wash. “Just sleep,” he mumbles against your mouth. “You need to rest.”

You pull away. “Just…?” The pause is audible. You shake the shirt off your arm and he wraps his arms around you, using one of his hands to run over your head. 

Toji wants to punch himself, face burning up in embarrassment. “Lay here and sleep. For fuck’s sake, you’re pregnant, aren’t you? Don’t expectant mothers have to make sure they get enough sleep?”

You push yourself up onto your elbows, face wrinkling. “Well, I, uh, yeah, but—“

“Then, sleep. I’ll wake you up, alright?” Toji pushes you off his body and you let out a soft chuckle, shimmying underneath the blankets. As soon as you’re comfy, he yanks the comforter over your exposed body, making sure you’re covered up, before scowling and reaching over you to switch the light off.

As soon as the room plummets into darkness, a hand slides along his jaw, and another grabs his chin. He looks down just in time for a pair of lips press against his warmly and it isn’t long before their lips are on one another’s, mouths slotting open to allow tongues to dip into mouths. Falling onto his back, Toji’s hand cups the back of your neck and you roll onto your side, your leg draping over his waist, your arms bent between their chests, palms flat against his neck.

Your thigh tightens around him as a soft panting breath leaves you in the form of, “Goodnight.” Toji’s foot slides up your calf. He strokes your ear and you’re resting your head on his other arm, so there isn’t much he can do besides pull you even closer by the shoulders until their bodies are semi colons of one another.

The break—the time to breathe—in each other’s life sentences.

You slither an arm around him. His arm curls around to your back. Their noses touch, and Toji lets out a comfortable sigh before kissing you. Your eyes shut as you mumble something incomprehensible about sleeping. Tiny moans escape your throat when he slowly kisses your bottom lip in a seductive, soothing drag, and another soft whimper sinks into his heart when he kisses the corner of your mouth, your lips chasing his. You whine something barely resembling his name as you tilt your head in an effort to try to reciprocate, a habit more than a choice. 

Toji nearly laughs at you, at the thought of it.

He kisses your chin instead, a wave of exhaustion slowly tiding into his pool of a body, then he returns his lips to yours, kissing you slowly. Sedated. Oozing like molasses into the next kiss, and then another, and the strength begins to leave him as your arm twitches against his body with every press, your leg squeezing over his waist. You’re panting, soft and needy, and your body wants to move, but you’re so tired you have to settle for the exhausted sounds you can muster to encourage him.

Like you want him to keep going, want him to know you’re still paying attention to him, even in your dreams.

You murmur something again. Something hushed in your breath.

“Toji…”

So soft. It reminds him of when they were younger. You were the first person he remembers uttering his name so gently—so undeservingly warm while his heart was trapped in an eternal blizzard. You said it like you meant to—like he deserved to be someone.

Against his will, something warm flickers in his hollow chest.

.

The woman is quiet as she stares at him, blinking owlishly in the way most non-jujutsu types do. Ota Hiroko, twenty-three. Lives with her mom, two younger brothers, and her grandfather. He’d found her pretty quickly, all things considered. You’d only given a name, mumbled into your pillow just to shut him up for five more minutes, but as soon as you’d gotten on your train, Toji had gone to work.

“Can I help you?” Hiroko asks thinly. She looks exhausted, pale, and she’s shaking as she’s holding onto the door knob. Toji almost pities her. 

“You Hiroko?”

She nods, then presses her lips into a thin grimace. “Whatever you’re selling, whoever you are, I’m not interested.”

Toji cocks an eyebrow, and shifts his weight to one side, scanning what little of house he can see over her head. It reeks of Cursed Energy. No doubt what’s made its home here.

“I don’t even know why I bother.” He cocks his head, arches an eyebrow. “Could you stop hiding behind that door? I’m a friend of your friend’s. The doctor from the clinic, remember her?”

The girl’s eyes light up at the mention of you, and she stops clutching onto the door barricading her from him like a shield and reveals herself a bit more. As soon as he can see one of her legs, he sees a pale, bumpy, and gnarled hand wrapped tightly around the woman’s waist, the arm winding around her thigh. 

“Did she send you? She said… she said she wouldn’t be in town, but—” The door swings open wider, and Hiroko leans forward, eyes widening with a sheen of desperation. Toji looks down at the Curse pressing its face into the woman’s stomach, and a coil of disgust wraps around his own gut. “Does she know what’s wrong with me?” 

“No, but close your eyes for a second.” She frowns, and Toji resists the urge to slap some sense into this girl. Taking a deep breath, he reaches for the dagger tucked into the back of his pants, and thinks of something nicer. Or tries to. Nothing clear comes to mind, and his words come out sharp, impatient. “Lady, I can do it with your eyes open, but you won’t like it.”

“Do what?”

“Fix your problem.” Fingers wrap around the handle, and then he thinks of you, sleeping on the train to Osaka. He wonders, idly, if you ate. 

Hiroko frowns, her head tilting. She looks sweet, really, and maybe a bit too naive, but Toji can see why she pulled at your heartstrings.

“Why are you doing this?”

He hasn’t a clue. “A favour,” he answers shortly. “Now, close your eyes.”

(recapitulation)

Stepping into the home, you slip off your flats and stuff them into the slippers, the grip on your bag of groceries tightening. The air smells sterile, dry, and it’s hauntingly silent, but you’ve grown used to it ever since you arrived two days earlier.

Announcing that you’re back, you migrate to the kitchen and set the groceries on the table, delegating what needs to be put into the fridge and freezer, setting the loaf of bread on the wooden board for later. 

“Is that you?”

“Yeah.” 

Closing the fridge once you’ve put away the vegetables and milk and juice, you continue onto frozen snacks and meat into the freezer. Then, you grab a bag of chips, a cup of water, and move to join your friend in whatever he’s doing. You shuffle down the hall where Hajime is already sitting up in what used to be the living room. The TV is on, some program you’re not exactly caught up on but he insists he can’t miss every Monday playing, so you had made him make a list of things he wanted to eat before leaving while he entertains himself with some melodrama.

Ever since his terminal diagnosis, Hajime’s moved his entire life to the first floor of his parents’ house, but that doesn’t mean it makes life any easier. Bypassing the pictures of his family, you sit down and rip open the bag of vegetable chips, tilting it towards him. Throwing aside his blanket, Hajime lets out a rough cough before reaching his hand in. You set it on his lap and touch the blankets pooling around his legs. It’s heated, the electric currents setting the soft fabric near-aflame against your skin, and your heart drops.

Making space for yourself on the couch, you adjust the pillows around yourself and get comfortable, putting the cup of water on a nearby table. On the screen, some people in scrubs are in a conference room shouting at one another, and you rest your cheek against your fist, raising an eyebrow.

“What’s going on?”

“Hospital chief was revealed to cheat on wife with one of his top residents.”

“Damn.”

“Anything this juicy where you work?”

You snort. “No.” 

You think of Toji, and wonder what he’s doing. Your phone buzzed for the last time this morning, when he texted you to make sure that you were still alive, and you promised you’d call him tonight, his job permitting. Your heart clenches at the last night they spent together. The way he had kissed you to sleep, and you had woken before him anyway, his finger curled under your jaw, his chin atop your head.

Your heart warms against your will, and then aches because you miss him. Which you hate to admit, but you do. You’ve long since accepted that your soft spot for the guy has returned stronger, darker. Part of it because he’s older now, they’re both grown, but another part of it is because he’s the same.

The same man who tries to protect you at any given turn, who steals your food, who gives you a little dysfunctional family even though he doesn’t know it.

“You’re all smiles,” Hajime intones suddenly, and you blink, turning to look at him. He’s sunken into the pillows surrounding his body, and he eyes you with an unimpressed disposition.

“Am I? I’m not in a good mood.”

“Because you drew the short end of the stick and came all the way out here,” he remarks, and your mouth opens to protest but he speaks over you, “Hey, you didn’t have to. You probably have a whole life I don’t know about anymore back in the city, don’t you.”

“I’m surprised you even called,” you admit softly. “After I left… I never thought you’d try to find me again.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t change your number.” 

“I didn’t change it just in case you’d call.” His eyes widen and soften, and he looks away, throat bobbing as he swallows. You add, “You were my only friend there, and I promised when I left that you could always find me if you ever needed me, and you need me now, so I might be pissed that you’re dying, but I’m not letting you die alone, alright?”

A beat.

“You’re a big softie, y’know that?” Hajime teases, but his voice is unusually thick. You give him grace and watch the TV as he clears his throat. “Underneath all that bitchiness, you actually care about me, don’t you?”

“Nah,” you say, but your voice is weak, thin. “Just for nostalgia’s sake at this point.”

.

They’re sitting on the balcony of his old room, in two rickety plastic lawn chairs that are weather-worn and cheap. You had carried him up there because there’s no way he’s strong enough to move, but just sitting here feels strange. You’d never known Hajime like this—never the type of friends to visit each other’s places.

Then again, that was back before he forced himself to get back onto better terms with his parents before they passed away. Before you just up and left him.

“Want one?” he asks, offering the box of cigarettes to you. His eyes are bloodshot, and his hand trembles. It’s not cold out, and it won’t be long, you think. You just have a feeling. You’re going to wake up and he’ll be dead.

“I’m good.”

“Never knew you to be someone who refuses a smoke.” He lights up and inhales. You steel yourself for the coughing fit that seizes him suddenly, and you try to pretend it’s not agonizing hearing him hurt like this. It dissolves into a fit that has him gasping, and you dart over, take hold of him as he curls in on himself, the bare bones of his skeleton poking at you through his skin. “F-fuck. Fuck. I’m… I’m fine. J-just—“

“Here. C’mon. You got this.” His heart is racing through his back, and you slowly ease him to the floor, so there’s more room, until he’s lying against you, his head tilted back onto your shoulder. His chest heaves rapidly, pumps of oxygen barely making it through to his diseased lungs, and his eyes flutter shut as he lets the red slip between his lips, down his chin.

Thick globs of dark red. It shines, rivulets that escape down his chin, to his neck. Over his quivering Adam’s apple, his lips parted; wine rose petals, tasting just as sour.

"I don’t smoke anymore,” you say, patting his chest with your hand that’s draped over his shoulder. With your other hand, you shake your sleeve down over your hand and wipe the blood away from his skin. “I’m… I’m pregnant. So, I can’t smoke.”

“Pregnant?”

“Mhm.” You look down, and stretch your arm so your sleeve falls back to your wrist before patting his head.

“It’s Toji’s?”

A lump in your throat. “Yes.”

“…I see.” Hajime turns his face away from you, and a shadow—no, that’s the wrong word—an empty void consumes his face. It makes him look young and weak and alone—everything he doesn’t want to be. 

“Yeah,” he finally adds at last. “You never did get over him.” The world goes mute as he laughs to himself, a soft noise that makes his eyelids flutter. “I’m glad that you came for my last moments even though he’s back. Y’know, I’m pretty sure he hates me.”

“Toji hates everyone,” you snort, ignoring the rot taking root in your chest. You drum your fingers on Hajime’s collarbone, sighing. “It’s him against the world so don’t take it too personally.”

“He doesn’t hate you.”

You chuckle. “I guess he can’t hate the person who takes care of his son seventy percent of the time.”

“He likes you,” Hajime corrects, and there is something in the phrasing—perhaps in the tone he says it in (like it’s the most obvious, simple thing in the world)—that flips a switch in your brain. Those three words take root in your head and even though your brow wrinkles and you frown and you shake your head, you still hear those three words.

He likes you. “No, he doesn’t. All we do is fight.”

“You’re the one who convinced the Master to let him stay and”—a sharp whistle. He likes you—“there were more than a few complaints about the muscle outside your room. Y’know,” he laughs again, “they always thought we didn’t need to be protected, but Toji… and don’t let him know I said this, but he made it better. He scared ‘em off. He did.”

Your fingers brush over Hajime’s temple. “I know.” Hajime twists to look up at you through barely-open eyes, and his breaths are flimsy against your neck, as you look down at him, smiling faintly. “Toji was probably the closest thing to a friend I had. Besides you. And the other workers there. But it wasn’t like we were buddies. We were sex workers and he… wasn’t. He was just some guy who lived there.”

“Yeah, that’s true.” Hajime’s cheek presses against your sternum. “I guess, he did do some handiwork, and you weren’t the personable type. You still aren’t.”

You snort. “Gee, thanks.”

“It takes a special kind of person to really, really understand you and—“

“Are you really inflating your own ego right now?”

“—and you didn’t want to be there for the rest of your life. Which was fine. But you closed your heart off because you didn’t want anyone to know how you ever worked to put yourself through school, which is fine, but he is the only one you ever opened yourself up to—“

“Okay, and?”

“And he likes you. You’re not half as oblivious as you think you’re being, but neither is he.”

“You don’t know that. You haven’t seen him in years,” you intone scathingly, but Hajime leans back, smiling, immune. He likes you. You shove him off you and get up. “You’re only saying that because you pity me. Just forget it, Hajime.”

Coughing, your friend wheezes out, “He’s texted you how many times since you’ve came here?”

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

“You’re playing house with the guy.”

“I babysit his son while he fucks off to god knows where. Do you think he really sees me as anything other than the person who gives him free stitches and puts a roof over his head whenever he wants? I don’t even know why we keep fucking. I don’t why I can’t say no.” You want to tear your heart out of chest and stuff it into Hajime’s mouth just to end the conversation. You walk to the end of the balcony while your dying companion clambers to his feet, grunting, hands clawing at the railing.

“You refused to see anyone else ever again after he left the House,” he wheezes. “You want me to believe that you don’t love him? Then, explain that.”

“That place robbed me of any sort of love. I hate you.” The wind carries and caresses your neck, stronger than Hajime’s own breathing, and you scratch at the nagging feeling, that itchiness spreading into your arms and making you uncomfortable in your cotton shirt. “And I hate him, too.”

“If he didn’t care about you, he would have left already. You know that,” Hajime utters softly, and you close your eyes. “You know he feels something for you. You’re too intelligent to turn a blind eye to that.”

“He’s in love with his dead wife.” The breath that leaves you takes everything you’re made of with it. He likes you. “I’m not going to compete with the person who gave him Megumi. I respect her memory too much to do that.”

“She’s dead,” Hajime murmurs. “And you’re still alive. What does it matter that he loved her? Why can’t it matter that he loves you?”

Can’t you understand? You want to scream in his face. He chose to stay for her.

.

At night, you make sure Hajime falls asleep before drawing yourself up for a vigil, blanket around your sinking shoulders. His breaths are frail, shuddering, and every time he coughs, you jump and take his slowing pulse. You don’t think you sleep a wink that night. Bones resting in a body that’s melded to the chair, you’re nothing but a pair of eyes trained on a face that you used to see every day.

You don’t even recognize him anymore. He’s lost so much weight and colour, and his hair is so thin and patchy. Hajime always refused to shave it, like he’s clinging onto some last part of the old him that doesn’t have cancer.

Tonight’s the night. It sucks. Everything fucking sucks. 

Before he goes, you manage to wake him up. His glassy eyes meet yours, and even near death, there is still that inquisitive gleam to his eyes.

“I don’t hate you,” you murmur. “Really just the opposite. I think I’m dying, too.”

His eyes squint in a smile before slipping shut. He’s too weak to even move his mouth anymore, and you think you’re going to puke.

You miss your old life. It was shitty, and repetitive, and made you repulsed by your own body, but perhaps you wouldn’t be so entirely alone.

You sit by Hajime’s bedside until his heart stops, and when you’re sure he is finally dead, you rise and clear your throat. Sniffing, you head for the surrounding woods. 

(coda)

You don’t call him for days. It worries Toji, but you had sent him one last text saying that Ojiro Hajime is dead.

Then, another text.

Arriving 6AM tomorrow. Hope everything’s fine. Will see you soon.

His answer.

Need anything?

You hadn’t answered. He gives you a grace period until ten PM, and when you’re still radio silent despite him calling, Toji packs Megumi into some second-hand pick-up and drives to the tiny city of Matsushima. There’s a certain panic that he tries to contain. Maybe it isn’t human, but when Megumi cries about being exhausted after waking up in a car seat four hours from home, Toji just barely manages the patience to calm his cranky son whilst trying to stuff down the harsh forces punching to his tongue.

A terrible rotting is festering in his gut. You’re either dead, or you’re in danger, or Ojiro’s death had destroyed you to such an extent that Toji needs to make sure you can still function.

He passes the town line, parks in the first place he sees, and gets out of the car, hiding his sidearm underneath the flap of his jacket. Picking up Megumi, Toji’s ears prick for noise. 

It’s almost two thirty AM. 

You had sent pictures once you arrived. The house is up on a hill. There’s no doubt you’ll still be there in the wake of his death if you’re okay.

So he makes that climb, and smells the wind for any signs of foul play, his one hand supporting Megumi despite being in a baby carrier, and his other hand ready at his handgun. Eyes dart from every stray shadow to another unfamiliar shape. This path is unfamiliar, and although he doesn’t sense any curses, every step makes his stomach coil tighter and tighter.

His steps are silent but hasty as he ascends, and before he knows it, his knuckles are rapping against the door, thunderous knocks that nearly rattle the door off its hinges. There’s the sound of a door opening upstairs before quick footsteps, and he hears you pause to glance into the peephole before the door swings open.

“Toji?” You sound confused, tired, and he grins lopsidedly at the way you still manage to glare at him. “What the fuck are you doing here? It’s late, I—”

“Unhappy to see me?”

Your jaw snaps shut, and you tilt your head to the ground as you mutter, “No. You should come in, though.” At this, your gaze lift to meet his. Exhaustion drags your features to the earth, swallows your eyes whole. “Megumi looks tired.”

“Yeah. He’s gonna be a cranky bastard in the morning.”

Your smile begins to grow, and it brightens your eyes as you slant your body to make room for him to come in. He starts forward, his boot lifting off the ground to step through the threshold of this home. Megumi shifts against his chest. His finger loosens around the safety of his gun.

There is a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye. It’s so fast he can barely detect it in time when suddenly, you’re yanked back into the darkness, a black sash wrapped around your mouth. Eyes widening, his heart freezes as a muffled scream wrenches out of your mouth. There’s a thud as the door swings shut, but he shifts his weight back and his foot bursts through the wood, splintering and cracking the night. Megumi lets out a strangled cry at the sudden movement, and Toji’s hand cradles around his son’s head, trying to protect his ears and skull as the smell of Cursed Energy drenches his entire body. It's reek enough for four or five sorcerers at most.

Stepping through the ruined door, he raises his gun into the shadows, blinking the light away. Moonlight streams in behind him, giving shape to objects but the farther away they are, the more they become a monotonous shape. Gritting his teeth, Toji holsters his gun and the Cursed Worm sitting in his stomach is pushed up onto his tongue. He spits it into his palm, guiding it around his neck and when his hand closes near the mouth of the spirit, cold chains push into his fingers.

His ears prick. 

Frantic footsteps, fingers scrabble against wood. A muffled struggle echoes down the hall, and despite Megumi’s rasping cries flooding his ears and giving away his location, Toji can’t escape the panicked racing of your heart above it all. He blinks, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness before winding up the chain in a sharp spin, trained wrist maneuvering the weapon like an extended limb.

A door creaks. Grunts. Soft socked feet shoot towards him. His eyes dart left. They’ve crashed into a wall. Collapsed, sounds like, and there’s a ragged gasp.

“Stop!” Your voice sends lightning down his very core, and his eyes widen. There’s figures tussling in a shapeless pile of black, and he swears for a moment, he can see your eyes—pits of black illuminated by pale dots of pure white fear—meeting his. “Don’t! Megumi—”

The toddler boy screams as a hand wraps around your face and drags you back into the darkness. It swallows your figure entirely, and Toji begs for his legs to move, but his knees lock and he looks at the wailing bundle strapped to his body, cursing its existence. There’s too much ambiguity in this hallway.  He can guess how many cousins and uncles and other off-shoot fucks playing at being royalty are lurking on the grounds. There's three in his immediate presence, but he can’t say for certain what sort of back up awaits a gunfight.

If he draws, you’re dead.

If he doesn’t, you’re lost.

The Zenin family won’t think a non-sorcerer civillian woman is worth the precious Zenin blood that Fushiguro Toji will shed, and cut their losses quick. A man steps out of the shadows as you are taken father and farther away, and he squeezes his eyes shut, trying to ignore the barbed wire gouging his heart.

“We have no quarrel with you, Toji,” Jinichi speaks, and there is that distinct oily disgust that rises when Toji hears his older brother speak. His eyes open to see him standing there, tall and solemn. “We want the girl and the child she carries, and we will care for her well enough to term.”

A harsh scoff. “Please. You’ll pamper her well enough for a prisoner, sure, but as soon as she pops out the kid, you’ll kill her, and the kid, too, if it doesn’t have what you want.”

“Any child of Zen’in blood is welcome. Perhaps she could make a suitable wife for one of our esteemed cousins,” he intones dryly. 

A pillar of fire shoots through Toji, and a harsh, cold laugh spills out of his mouth. “You think she’s well-behaved enough to be a wife. You have no fucking idea what she’s like.”

“Toji, don’t make this harder for yourself. I’m showing her mercy because you seem to fond of her, and you’re my brother.” His brother almost smiles, teeth gleaming in the dark. “Besides, that’s my nephew. I am not as wasteful as our father. I won’t spill promising young Zen’in blood.”

“If you’re aiming to play into some kind of sentiment, you’re stupider than I remember.” Toji’s grip on the Chain of a Thousand Miles tightens. Jinichi has always underestimated him. It’s been a decade. Toji is sure, sure he is faster. “Do you still wanna duke it out like the good ol’ days, big bro?”

“You kill me, she dies.” Jinichi turns around, and waves a hand. The Cursed Energy flowing around the house immediately begins to dissipate, and Toji, for the first time in months, thinks about the satisfaction he would feel putting a bullet in his older brother’s head. “You follow us, you’ll never see her again. You know better than most how serious I can be.”

Jinichi of the Hei glances over his shoulder to make sure the Sorcerer Killer does not mean to follow, and then he, too, sinks into the darkness.

.

They cannot stay in that home, so they do not. Toji takes Megumi on foot, and walks until they find a hostel off the side of the road. The guy manning the front desk is alarmed at Toji’s appearance combined with the baby who has cried himself to sleep on his chest, but he doesn’t ask questions.

Sitting on the bed, he sets Megumi down to sleep properly, and tries to ignore the speed of which his heart is beating. His stomach’s flipped over, and a harsh scream wants to explode from his chest as he shoves himself into the cramped shower. 

The shower boasts no temperature control, and his skin is red from both ice cold and burning heat when he steps out, wiping at the misted mirror. The scar on his lip has flushed where it crosses his lips, and he tugs at it absently.

They’d take you back to the main estate. Highest security, most isolated location, amongst other things. There was a collection of Curses in that cellar, but they wouldn’t keep you in there. There was no point in putting the pregnancy in jeoprady. They have no idea how far along you are until the doctor can get to you. 

But the Zen’in homestead is massive. If you aren’t at the main house, you could be in the acres of woodland surrounding it. No doubt there are hunting cabins, fishing huts, other houses for the branch families to stay in or use that Jinichi could stow you away in. Toji knows some of them, but he hasn’t been home in years. 

He’d have to go back to Hajime’s house, pick up a trail.

Toji exits the bathroom, rubbing at his scalp roughly as if that could work out the headache beginning to fester in the centre of his skull. 

Or, he could leave. Find a place to disappear to, find a new woman to play house with. A nicer woman. One who wouldn’t make such a fuss every time he so much as breathed. He could. What difference would it make? There’s no reason why he should go back to that hellhole. Why he needs to.

Megumi is holding onto his feet, rolling on his back, and there’s a slow, drifting movement between the beds as he giggles, oblivious to it. Toji reaches for the gun he left on the bathroom counter just as his son sits up to look at him, smiling toothily, and two sets of ears prick behind the mattress.

That night, the Divine Dogs come to his son for the first time. They’re nothing more than young pups, but they’ll grow even larger in time—outmatch the hungriest of wolves and the most monstrous of bears. 

But Toji doesn’t need another killer. He’s more than enough.

The shikigami sniff at the place they’ve been summoned to, exploring with keen eyes and wrinkling noses, and Toji stalks forward, crouching in front of the bed and grabbing hold of his son by the shoulders. Megumi lets out a shocked squeal, but he ignores it.

“Megumi,” Toji rasps, stares into those wide eyes. His son has his mother’s face, eyes, nose, mouth, and although it’s agonizing to look at from time to time, Megumi screws up his face the same way you do, and it strikes him now. Why he needs to do this. Why he’s done everything he has for the past few months. “Megumi, I need you to listen to me.”

.

Blood drips off the edge of the his knife as he pushes the door open silently. The figure inside scrambles back, and there’s a frantic, muffled scream as the dogs slither in past his legs. They sniff the air, panting, as Toji pulls his mask down. 

The black dog growls a low warning, disappearing into the shadows and there’s the sound of clinking chains as a heavy gasp pierces the darkness. 

Moonlight streams into the room, illuminating the white dog returning with a wet cloth that must’ve been a gag pinched between its teeth. Toji steps onto the mat, trying to keep count of the seconds he has before they’re inevitably found.

“Are you alright?” he whispers, struggling to push the desperation, the relief from his voice. His heart quickens as a glimmer of your eye catches his.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you stammer. He can’t see the state of your body just yet, but the fact that you’re talking is a good enough sign. “How did you find me?”

“Dogs. Good sense of smell.” He breaks the chains easily with the hilt of the dagger. “Hold this.” Flipping the knife over, he extends it to you in the darkness, and you let out a grunt, fingers drifting over his own briefly before you lift it from his palm. When he tries to find your waist, your breath flutters against his cheek, but you make no other noise, lifting your head over his shoulder. “Can you stand? We don’t have a lot of time.”

“I think so. Move.” You clutch onto his shoulder and push, and he helps you to your feet as the Divine Dogs lope towards the lip of the room once more, alert and ears pricked for any approachers. “I’m fine. I can walk. I don’t know where we are, though, so I can’t be of much help.”

“That’s fine. Just get behind me and watch my back. We’ve got to get to a safe house.”

“A safe house, huh,” you mutter. “Something that comes with the job.”

Toji can’t help the wry smile twisting his lips, reaffirming his grip on his knife. As they approach the exit, he looks back just to make sure you weren’t lying. Your face is smattered with bruises, cheek swollen, and the side of your head is slick with blood, but your eyes are alert. You reach forward and when your fingers dig into his shoulder strongly, a great knot right in his diaphragm becomes undone. 

“Let’s go.”

Slipping out of the room, the two crouch and follow the dogs towards the forested acres surrounding the Zen’in compound. They’ll be able to escape to the river and lose the scent, before doubling back to where they need to go. The nearest safe house is a run-down motel where the owner owes Toji a favour. 

They can plan their next moves from there.

“We have to go back to Osaka,” you hiss as they slink into the gardens. It’d be best to avoid leaving a trail of bodies, although the ones Toji hid earlier of the guards near your rooms would soon be found if the incoming patrols were smart. “Hajime’s body is still in the house.”

“Going back there isn’t my priority,” he replies icily. His eyes scan the path by the koi pond. It’s out in the open, but it’s either that or risking making the bushes rustle as they try to skirt around the hedge wall. “C’mon. We’ve gotta be fast.”

Four shadows dart across the silver lawn, disappearing onto the other side of a well-worn stone path. The trickling of the pond chimes, covers their soft steps as they reach the other end without much trouble, following the path to the servant’s quarters on the edge of the estate. 

Signalling for a stop, Toji crouches behind a rock statue and you fall in behind him.

“Stick close. We reach the end of this building, and run for the forest.” He tilts his head, peeking around to scan the building. The shadows cast by this place are longer than he remembers, and his heart hammers against his sternum. Swallowing tightly, he closes his eyes for a brief moment. Fists take ahold of his gut, threatening to rip him apart from the inside out. If he stops for a moment, will it all come back to him? 

“Toji,” you whisper, placing a hand on his shoulder. He tears his eyes away from the grass. You shuffle closer until your shoulder is pressed against his own, and your fingers ghost over his cheek. “Lead the way. I’ll be right behind you.”

He jerks his head down before ducking around the corner.  The servant’s quarters have always been less extravagant than the main house. It is by no means unkempt, but perhaps it’s the best comparison when placed side by side with the luxury. The wood creaks when Toji steps up onto the engawa, and it whines even more as you ascend beside him. 

It won’t be long before someone comes searching for the source of the noise but they just have to round the corner. It’ll be thirty-three steps and then a sprint into the woods. Toji’s traced these steps before, twice. He hopes this third pass will be his last.

The dogs sprint forward, the white one a shining silver beacon and the black one its blurred shadow. They’ve almost made it, and with luck, they’ll be far away from here come the morning.

Your breath comes harsh and fast, excited or anxious, he’s not sure. He’s so attuned to it that it floods his senses. 

The rhythmic patter of your feet. You’re not far behind. They’re two seconds away from jumping off the veranda. The dogs reach the end of this wooden path. Tails thrashing, ears flat against their heads, they leap.

Then, the white wolf lets out a warning bark, golden glare gleaming like fire in the moonlight.

Toji is running too fast. He can’t think. His instinct is to duck. 

His body moves. His knees hit the hard floor, and he slides past the corner of the building just as a shadow of a man appears in the peripheral of his view. Mouth curling into a scowl, he shoots a hand to his gun. Draws. 

You’re trying to skid to a stop past him, in front of him. His eyes widen. The gun brushes your side, his finger twitching.

He can’t think. His instinct is to pull the trigger. Launch a bullet through your body, silence that man who will no doubt send all the fury of the Zen’in Clan onto Toji once more.

Blood splatters across his face. 

You shove the knife up with a short, sharp huff, piercing through the jaw and up into the brain. before the scream the man was about to let out can escape, and yank the blade out. Blood gushes over your hand in terrifying, oozing waves as Toji surges forward to catch the body, easing it to the ground and grabbing your hand. 

They run past, onto plush grass, into the forest and towards the river, and he can hear your frantic breaths, the thunderous echo of your heart. You turn back to look at the corpse, but it’s a fool’s task. You cannot see your work past the crest of the hill they run down.

His hand slips against your skin, but when your fingers wrap tightly around his own, he trusts you not to falter.

They run into the river, and Toji hauls you onto his back for the rest of the way. Your feet brush against the water and your arms tighten around his neck, but you don’t protest like you normally would. Instead, you rest your head down, and let him take you without any questions. 

They go downstream, then upstream. The shikigami have since been dismissed by the time they have to go back the way they came. Perhaps Megumi’s fallen asleep, but his son has done more than enough that Toji reminds himself that the next time he wants something, no matter how ridiculous it is, he will seriously consider buying it. 

Soaked to his torso, Toji adjusts his girp on your legs wrapped around his waist. You’re shivering against his back, and he catches a glimpse of your face when he cranes his head back enough.

“Fine?”

“Fine.” 

“Almost there,” he continues over the gentle flow of the river. “Motel. You can rest there.”

“That supposed to be safe?”

“Know a guy. Occupational acquaintance.”

“How generous.” You bury your face into his neck. “Thank you. You shouldn’t have come for me.”

“Don’t be fucking stupid.” Turning forward, he grimaces when the riverbed sinks, and he hoists you further up his body. He nearly sinks to his chest and you raise your head to look around. You’re remarkably calm. It’ll come crashing down soon. He wants to be within the confines of four walls before that happens. “If you’re awake, make yourself useful and keep an eye out.”

Your dry response pricks at his ears as your hands push up on his shoulders. “Yes, sir.”

.

The motel is a rundown shit-hole. 

Well, Toji never claimed himself to be a gentleman.

They’re cooped up in a cramped bathroom as he insisted that he look you over just in case there was Curse damage. The light flicks overhead, which you look at while Toji runs a rag under water.

“They won’t find us here?” you ask blankly. Toji turns and sees your placid face upturned towards him. You watch him with steady eyes that haven’t torn away from him for a moment despite how heavy they must feel. You’re exhausted, but by the way your hands are clenched at your knees, you can’t bare to close your eyes. 

“No. They won’t find us.” He crouches before you, and begins to rub at your face. The blood has crusted and flecks off when he touches your temple, and you flinch. “Did that hurt?”

“No. No, they didn’t… it was because I tried to run. They knocked me out.” Your fingers shake uncontrollably as you reach for your head. “Head wounds bleed a lot… I promise, it doesn’t hurt so bad.”

“Don’t feel rattled?”

“Not from a concussion,” you affirm. He gently pushes your hand down, and you let out a long, deep exhale. “They can’t hurt me when I’m carrying their blood, I think is what they said, so I’m okay, I think. I need to go to the clinic to make sure, but I’m okay.”

“You’re not going back there.” Taking hold of your shoulders, he is sure to look into your eye and speak slowly. “I don’t give a fuck about money—we’re not going back to Tokyo."

“We?” you echo. Your lips twist into a bitter scowl, and you push his arms away. “Toji, I don’t even know what happened to me. I got kidnapped because of you? Is that it?”

“Yes,” he snaps. “Because you decided to keep the kid. They found out, and they want that kid more than you probably do.”

“But why? They said something about a technique. Shadows, something.” You shake your head and your eyes narrow as you stand, stepping over and around him. Bracing yourself against the sink countertop, you stare at your own reflection. “What have you not been telling me?”

“A whole slew of things.” He rests on his knees, stretches the rag out to you. You turn to take it and begin to clean up your own complexion as he struggles for words. “A world you don’t know about. My job. You never asked questions.”

“You wouldn’t have wanted to give me any answers,” you retort. You temper your breathing, try to keep it even, but as you see yourself more clearly, Toji hears every painful inhale. Every agonizing hitch in your lungs. “I just wish I could understand.”

“I know. I know this shit doesn’t make sense. It’s not fair.” He shakes his head. “I owe you. I know that.”

“You never pay your debts.”

“That’s true.” A bitter chuckle escapes him. “But you can still… if you get rid of that kid, there’s a chance they won’t touch you.” Your lips part in protest, and you twist to look down at him. Rising, Toji feels gutted raw, everything inside him scooped out and replaced with nothing but sawdust. His joints ache strangely. His throat scratches, his eyes burn. He’s had enough of this sick existence, and he wants to throw up until his guts are clean of glass. “And I’ll disappear. You won’t ever hear from me again.”

Your erratic inhales quiver as he pulls the rag away and lifts his other hand to brush the side of your head. He dabs at the impact wound as you stare hollowly into his chest. 

“Do you think that pays back your debt to me?” you ask stonily. “That that even begins to cover what you owe me?”

“No,” he replies. The light flickers overhead. The buzz of old electricity hums between them. “No, but it’s the only way I know how.”

Your eyebrows scrunch when he presses too hard. Your eyelids flutter, but you don’t make a sound. Toji bites his lip hard enough he begins to taste iron, but he can’t speak. He doesn’t trust himself not to say something incredibly, irredeemably stupid.

You save him from that. You save him from so many other foolish things.

 “You don’t get to run from me and pretend it’s for my benefit,” you whisper in a dull, dead way. “That’s not going to happen. You understand me? This Zen’in Clan… they’re going to come for Megumi, too, aren’t they? Those dogs. He… he really likes dogs. You said they were his, so it must be what they want.”

He touches the rag to your swollen lip, his other hand tilting your chin up. “Yeah. And the Zen’in Clan is one of the most powerful political families in our society.” You peer at him in the pale, cold light of the bathroom. It paints you in an unflattering palette, but when Toji meets your gaze, a cold, icy dagger sinks into his back. You still look at him with the epitome of surrender. Underlying any sort of gentleness or hate or fury, there is that knowing. 

They are entirely at each other’s mercy.

“I see,” you reply measuredly. “So, we have no chance.”

“You do,” he insists.

“No, I don’t.” Your lips press together. “I’m keeping the baby. They’ll come for me regardless of whether or not you’re here. So, really, if you think leaving me is what’s best, I can’t change that about you.”

His heart flash decays in his chest and he shoots the rag into the sink bowl, planting a hand on the countertop and grimacing. Bowing his head, he digs his fingers into the porcelain and watch the blood water slowly trickle down the drain.

He doesn’t want to leave you, can’t you understand that? If he did, he would’ve left you with his family to die. That is the most permanent solution he could ask for. If it was the better choice for his own self, the guilt would eat him alive, and he would’ve let it, but he didn’t. Toji knew the consequences of the choice he made when he set out for his ancestral home. 

You’re here with a bounty on your head, and you’re asking him. Asking him to do something he can’t do anymore, and he knew you would.

He came for you anyway.

You exhale a shivering breath, inhaling another one before it can fully escape, and turn away from the mirror. The shadows nearly envelope you entirely. 

“I’m going back to Osaka in the morning,” you tell him with no room to protest. “Hajime deserves a funeral. You either come with me, or you don’t. I’ve killed someone today. I doubt there’s not much more I wouldn’t do to keep myself alive, so don’t do it out of some obligation to me."

You rest a hand on his chest, against his heart, before you nod to yourself.

“Goodnight, Toji.”

You leave. The handprint that lingers burns like arsenic.

.

Toji jumpstarts a car and they drive to Osaka in silence. Megumi is asleep in your lap on account of the lack of booster seat, and you don’t look at him the entire way there.

When they reach Hajime’s house, it is dawn, the air frosty despite the sun on their faces. The place is as Toji left it, with a hole through the front door. You don’t comment on the scrambled interior, and merely traverse through to the backyard where a stack of wood has already been cut.

“Help me build a pyre,” you instruct shortly. “It’s what he wanted.”

Toji spends the better part of the morning building the pyre. You stay inside to make food, and return with Megumi an hour and a half later. The boy is still asleep, which is both a miracle and a relief. Toji had worried that using the Ten Shadows would drain the child at first, but his son is strong.

He’s just finished the platform as you cross the lawn. Pulling off the gloves, he shoves them under his arm and meets you halfway. “Here.” You extend a plate towards him. Eggs, sausages, and half an apple laden the dish, and you jerk your head over your shoulder. “There’s rice porridge inside.” He nods, and your eyes drift to the pyre. “Here, take Megumi. I’ll continue where you left off.”

“Where’s…”

“Upstairs. On the balcony.” You grab the pair of gloves from him. “No good for Megumi to see that, y’know?”

He nods again. “Alright.”

Brushing past him, you make your way towards the chopped wood and lift. Together, they finish the pyre just past mid-day.

You retreat into the house and slip into one of the rooms upstairs as Toji finds anything that can be scrapped together into lunch. Holding a bowl of instant noodles and steamed vegetables, he finds you asleep in an empty room, curled atop the covers and holding a pillow tight to your chest.

Placing the food on the nightstand, he perches on the edge of the bed. He debates waking you up, his hand settling on your arm, but when you don’t stir immediately, he decides against it. You didn’t sleep much the night before, and woke up early. That, and all that pregnancy business. Toji doesn’t know half about it, but he knows enough.

Perhaps it’d be best if he left you be.

.

You wake up in the late afternoon. 

While you eat outside, Toji carries Hajime’s body and lays him to rest. It’s a pitiful thing to look at. The boy is pale, skin loose, hair patchy, and there’s a sort of fragility that unsettles Toji. He had been nothing but a bag of bones in the end, and resembled more of an old man, but his skin is so smooth, unwrinkled. 

How is that supposed to make any sense?

Toji wonders if you’ve ever smelt a burnt body before. When they light the pyre, and watch as the entire structure goes up in flames, Toji does not watch Hajime disappear. Instead, he keeps his eyes steadily trained on you. The fire reflects in your irises, brings a synthetic life to dead eyes.

For a long while, they don’t speak. Toji leaves briefly to attend to Megumi, and he watches through the window as you stare at the fire consume the remnants of your old life. He heats up leftover okayu for dinner, and brings both a bowl and his son out to accompany you.

Dusk slowly settles over the horizon as he hands you the bowl. You take it without complaint, sipping. He briefly squeezes your hands, touches the back of his hand to your forehead, and you shoot him an arched eyebrow. Megumi lets out an appreciative noise at the pretty fire, slapping his hands against his father’s forearm. Toji shrugs.

“He told me not to tell you,” you say as his hand falls away from your head, “but he was grateful to you.” Eyebrows shooting up, a deep frown twists Toji’s mouth but you only smile fondly. “You made sure we were safe, even if that wasn’t your intention.”

“I suppose.” His eyes drift distantly over the burning logs. "Tell him I say you're welcome." 

.

Megumi falls asleep again within the hour. It must be a combination of warm food, his father rocking him, and the exhaustion from the previous days lingering. When he rejoins you, you’re standing, your empty dish by your feet, and you greet him with a curt nod as he finds his place next to you.

The fire is steadily burning away, although it’s been a while now. The whole ordeal will be done before midnight.

You loop your thumbs through the belt holes of your jeans. “Will they know where I live if I go back?”

“Yes.” He kicks the disturbed dirt near his boot. The sound of the wood bending and finally snapping cracks the night. “They might offer you money once they realize you’re alone. When the kid is born, they’ll just take him if you put up a fight. If you don’t, they might let you stay. Then, they’ll wait a few years. Find out if the kid has what it wants. If it doesn’t, they’ll throw you out and keep the kid. If it does, they’ll marry you into the family. The claim is illegitimate otherwise.”

“What claim?”

“The Ten Shadows. If the child can control the Ten Shadows, then there’s no doubt they’ll groom them to be the next head of the clan. And they’ll treat ‘em like royalty, so maybe, it won’t be so bad for the kid. It might even be good. Better, if it’s a boy.”

“The same would happen if it were Megumi,” you point out. “You don’t consider bringing him back? Let him be raised as a prince?”

“They’d either pay me or kill me for him. I’ve considered it before,” he admits. “I don’t know why I don’t.”

“I see.” You lift your head to the smoke rising up into the inky sky. A signal to those around for certain, but Toji doubts the Hei would regroup and attack again so quickly. “They won’t let you stay with me.”

He shakes his head. You worry your lip between your teeth, and turn back to the pyre. The wind blows gently, pushing the ribbons of orange, yellow, and sparkling red towards the trees.

“You got a light?”

“Yeah.”

Reaching into his jacket, he sniffs. The smoke’s reminding him of his own nasty habit. “What are you thinking?”

“Weighing my options.” You shove your hands into your pockets and withdraw a lighter. Pulling out his box of Mild Sevens, he pinches one between his lips and cups the end. You lean over, torching the end and frowning delicately when you note the cigarette.

“Do y’mind?” he mumbles.

“No.” The sizzling end of the cig is covered by the sound of your lighter clicking shut and he takes a long drag, turning his head away. “Dick move to do that in front of me, though.”

He snorts in amusement, smoke escaping. “I’ll quit when the baby comes.”

“Whatever you say.” You hug yourself, tucking your chin in. “Do you… do you think you’ll be here when the baby does come?”

Toji blinks. Run, a voice inside him demands. You’ll kill her if you stay.

“It’s a nice image,” he says against his better judgement. Your eyes drag to his figure, and you take a half-step towards him, hand reaching out, but he jerks his glare down at your extended appendage. Immediately, your body freezes, and your hand curls into a tight fist. Softly, he rests a hand atop your knuckles and gently pushes down. “Megumi would like a sister.”

"Well, I want you to stay." The flames flicker across the apple of your cheek, and you finally take hold of his sleeve. “I want you to want to stay. I know it’s too much to ask. It’s selfish. But I have watched you leave before, and if I have to watch you leave again, fine, but only if I know it’s for the last time.” Your fist shakes. He pinches the cigarette between two fingers and exhales towards the pyre. “And you promise you’ll disappear. For good. You, and Megumi. You understand me?”

As tender as a man like Toji can be: "Yeah, I understand.” 

You let go of his sleeve, step away, and face the pyre too. The flames are not as tall as they were before, although they’re no less bright and voracious against the night. It’ll still be an hour or more yet until it’s snuffed entirely, which you seem to grasp as you sit down on the grass. Drawing your legs to your chest, you rest your chin on your knees and let your entire body slouch forward. Toji glances down at you before sidling in a little closer and finishing his cigarette.

Flicking the bud towards the fire, he lets out a cough. The taste is something he’ll never get used to. Soon enough, though, it’ll probably be the last reminder he has of you if he goes. Just some pack of cigarettes in a gas station as if that’s enough to represent you in your frustrating entirety. 

Toji wonders what sort of person he is to think about this when your best friend is burning in front of them. He wonders, too, about what Hajime had said about him. He hasn’t spoken to the boy in a decade, haven’t thought about him in years. There had been a time where they’d almost been brothers.

He debates smoking another cigarette, for his sake, but you wouldn’t appreciate that even if you don’t tell him no. 

He settles on not smoking, and watching the smoke on the pyre instead. Eventually, a weight leans against his leg. Your head against his knee, you don’t speak. Don’t move. Don’t give any indication that he’s even there. Lips twisting into wry, pitiful sort of grimace, Toji carefully crouches down, setting a hand on your head. You cant your head upwards, meeting his gaze.

“I’m sorry, too.” You lift a hand to his cheek, and your thumb stretches to brush over his lower lip. Your head tilts as you examine the scar, but then you’re lifting your gaze to his nose, trace the shape of his brow. “I just can’t let this one thing go.”

“I know.” He smiles grimly. “But to be honest, you hold a grudge.”

You mimic his smile. “Yeah, I know.”

Tilting your head forward with his hand, Toji closes the gap between them. Their noses brush, and your face, your exhausted, angry, beautiful face, is all he can see. The flecks in your irises, the stray hairs along your eyebrows. He runs his fingers down the side of your cheek as you turn to look at the fire, and remembers how hard it was to leave the first time. It rips apart old sutures in an ancient part of his withered heart. He wasn’t so much a coward that he left a note while you were asleep, but the way your face had glazed over into a placid numbness lingers.

“I know another safe house you can stay in long term,” he says as the wood pyre creaks and crumbles. There’s the sound of a few tumbling, crashing logs and your head snaps to the source. Continuing on, Toji tries to ignore the tight ball clogging up his throat. That damn fucking cigarette. It’s made his mouth feel all funny.

He plants a knee on the ground, and sheds his jacket. You’re about to shove him away but he lets out a sharp warning, forcing it around you.

“If you get sick after being out in the cold and inhaling all this smoke, how’s that good for the kid?” he snaps, and you stop, staring at him. “That place is good. They’ll keep you warm, and fed—”

“What about you?”

“What about me?” he asks. You pull the lapels of his jacket tighter around yourself. “I can take you there, and it’ll be near Tokyo. Somewhere more familiar.”

“And then you’ll leave again?” 

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Well, do you want to leave?” you press, pushing yourself to your knees. Toji pinches the bridge of his nose as you grab his arm. “Toji. If you’re just going to leave, what is the damn point of taking me somewhere else? Why wouldn’t I go back to your crazy fucking family when I know for certain they’ll take care of my kid?”

He nearly gawks at your stupidity. “Because they’ll treat you like shit. They’ll turn your kid against you. Do you think I’m the prime example of good family dynamics?”

“No, but…” Your fingers dig through his shirt. Clenching his jaw, he refuses to look at you as your other hand latches onto his shoulder. Why can’t you see? Is he not being clear enough? You can’t go back there. Toji knows you’ll die one way or another, and while he can bear it enough to be apart from you—to kill you is to inflict a mirrored wound on himself. 

“No.”

“I know what I am compared to you. Compared to them. I’m nothing, Toji.” His name slips from your mouth, reed-thin and desperate. “Toji. Look at me. Please.”

He’s never heard you beg before. It stings like a poison, swelling up in his lung. Silent, he only looks down at your hand. It springs off his arm as if he’s scalded you.

“I don’t know what sort of world you’ve been living in,” you admit dully. “And maybe that’s my fault for never asking the right questions. But you can’t expect me to keep listening to you like it’s for my own good.”

“I’m not looking for reasons. It’s what rational, you idiot. It’s because of your association with me that you’re being targeted. It would be smarter if we split up in case they come looking again.”

“Well, it’s too late now!” You shoot to your feet, yanking his jacket off your shoulders. “I’m scared out of my fucking mind right now, and you’re talking about dumping me at some safe house near Tokyo. As if I’d stay there when I know there’s a place I might be needed. I'd be irreplaceable if I go back. At least for a little while. Which is maybe more than I can say for how you see me.”

Rising, Toji bites back the harsh insults that want to pour out of his mouth. His heart splinters as you shove the jacket into his solar plexus and you let out a rattling breath, twisting to face the pyre once more. Oxygen knocked out of him, Toji lets his jacket fall to to the ground and his body moves before he can command it. 

His foot steps forward, his hands reach, and his mouth opens.

“Don’t play a hero, Toji.” You spit the words out bitterly, as if you cannot stand the taste of him anymore. “It doesn’t suit you.” Crossing your arms over your chest, you blink and your eyes begin to glisten in the firelight. Catastrophic amber set in your diamond-cut face. “If you’ve already decided, why can’t you just act on what you want?”

“Because what I want,” he murmurs slowly, fists clenching tightly as his sides, “is not the same as what’s best for you.”

Your head slants, just a fraction, and the corners of your eyes soften as you regard him. “Who are you to say what’s best for me?” Ducking his head, Toji squeezes his eyes shut and ignores all the voices in his head crowing at his stupidity. Every muscle in his body trembles as the grass crunches underneath a heavy foot, and when fingers brush delicately over his arms, he flinches back. “Toji.”

Tough, callused fingertips gently find his chin and tilt it up. His eyebrows knot together even tighter, and he jerks his head away but the hand is insistent, sliding along his jaw and pushing him back towards you.

“What I know is that the father of my child is the person best suited to protect me,” you utter with such misplaced conviction. Lips twisting into a pained scowl, he shakes his head. You cup his face, wrench his head so he is forced to look at you. A wet trail has carved a path down your cheek. His heart stutters in his esophagus. “You being here by my side in these damned woods makes me feel safer than if I were alone in some safe house because I trust you. Can’t you understand that?” Can’t you trust me, too?

The thing is, Toji has always trusted you. Had faith in you in a time when he didn’t believe in anything. The countless stitches that have been snipped by your scissors, and the gauze you’ve packed against his wounds are proof of all of that—invisible lines on his body that have healed perfectly because of your diligence and the long, pink scars in your absence weave a story he’s been writing for ages, but the endings diverge, and he tries to imagine both.

When you blink, another tear steadily traces the curve of your face, and he can’t stomach it. With a rough thumb, he swipes the tear away before grabbing you by your shoulder and yanking you into him.

Your arms immediately wrap around him, hooking on his shoulders. Holding the back of your head, Toji closes his eyes and buries his nose into the crook of your neck. Their bodies meld together, slot together like two pieces. As the fire begins to die and the smoke clears, clarity finally comes to him in the shape of that image again.

A child. A baby girl, Megumi’s sister.

“Take care of Megumi, okay?”

You had been right. His son has the Ten Shadows. If Toji sold him when the signs first showed up, he could’ve haggled enough to sate him for a lifetime. Why didn’t he?

Your lips brush the curve of his jaw as you let out a long exhale.

He can fool himself into thinking it’s because he wanted the certainty of knowing it’s truly the technique his family has been searching for, but it’s because he knows what princes are treated like in the Zen’in Clan. He wants the best for his son, really he does. He’d give it to him even if it meant he’d have to erase his blessing from his mind to make it happen.

But that possibility of you, out there, living a life he knows nothing about anymore.

Maybe that is the way. To keep his son happy, and to keep his son with him for the time-being.

Your fingers entrench into his shoulders hard enough to hurt. He runs a palm down your back before wrapping his arm around your waist. 

Toji wants to run. He wants to stay. He wants to make enough money to not worry about gambling debts, but he aches to see his son grow up. 

And, of course, now, he would like a daughter. He’s decided a daughter would be good, too, for the end.

“Do you think I don’t know what I am to you?”

Toji wonders if when you had asked that question, you had truly known his answer.

Only one way to to find out.

“Okay,” he finally whispers. Your head tilts inwards, your nose against the long cord of his neck. Your breathing is erratic, featherlight and hopeful as he closes his eyes. “Okay, I’ll stay.”

.

Three weeks later, a woman, a man, and a toddler boy walk past the torii of the Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College. Despite the weapons trained on the man’s chest, he proposes calmly, almost arrogantly, a deal they’d be stupid to refuse. 

The service of the Sorcerer Killer in exchange for room and board for the three of them.

Yaga Masamichi accepts.

[mortal-song]

the problem with tua's ending is that it was IMPOSSIBLE to do without retconning and defacing the themes and characterizations that have been central to the story since the very first episode. if you had to end it that way, if it really was "the plan all along," then fine. there ARE good ways to do that -- so the execution should have been much different here if that was the case. take a look at "the good place," for example. everyone ceased to exist at the end of that story as well, but it was beautifully done because it ADDED to the show's core themes rather than take away from them. tua's ending was hollow and unavailing. at some point i have to commend the precision with which someone can desecrate an entire series and certain characters (looking at five, diego and lila especially) like this.

it made no sense. diego and lila formed a beautiful (albeit chaotic) relationship built upon mutual trust and authentic love that neither of them had ever experienced before. it was something they were teaching each other and learning together. that was a new beginning to them, and it was painted as such by the narrative. at no point were there hints that things would go sideways, no build up. every time they stumbled in the past it was still right back into each other's arms. at no point did their chaos look like an ending until it was shoved in our faces for... shock value? to shake things up? i fail to understand where it came from. they were relentlessly devoted to each other and the only two people who could stand each other for long. and so what became of them was very jarring. very messy.

five's ENTIRE character has been focused on and motivated by one thing: saving the people he loves. to the point that he was willing to let his own humanity become a forgone ideal, a renounced concept, as many times as it took. to the point that he essentially INVENTED TIME TRAVEL and INVENTED THE COMMISSION TO REGULATE IT. five's stoic exterior only barely concealed the claw-grip he had on every single family member, so why forget it now? why choose to go back on that? and in what world would five hargreeves willingly wait MONTHS to return to his family? because he was SUDDENLY in love with lila, no less? forgetting the very apparent fact that his age and body are not in alignment, five had never shown any interest in romance. especially not towards lila. but they do have very similar backgrounds, and so this was a chance to enrich the mutual understanding five and lila have with each other, expand the familial connections they have, especially seeing as how both of them -- in their own ways -- spent most of their life without that sort of connection.

ben's entire arc felt so, so out of place. completely and very ironically isolated from the entire rest of the series. nothing about it was fulfilling, nothing about it offered any sense of closure or even development. jennifer made no sense even as a plot device, much less as her own character. these two brought out nothing in each other.

klaus had the foundations of a good arc, but too much was introduced in too small an amount of time and none of it really went anywhere. i can say roughly the same for allison and viktor. THAT being said, of most of the scenes i did find myself genuinely enjoying this season, THOSE three were usually at the center! in fact, i really did love the scenes with klaus, allison, and claire. so that's cool. i guess. luther? he was just kind of... there?

and ray just fucked off with no explanation? okay. and reginald? until this point he had all the qualities of a potentially VERY GOOD and nuanced villain. his arc fell flat. and let's not forget all the other loose ends, but, you know, we've been here long enough. so. onto the next point.

none of these characters got to heal. none of them ever got to revel in anything meaningful, or, rather, the things that WERE meaningful across the whole series were rendered worthless because... none of it exists anymore! none of it ever existed! this is like an "it was all a dream" ending but much worse. and these characters are so, so incredible. i can only name a few other stories that have had characters i've connected to this deeply. and despite everything i could never really stop loving them. that makes it hurt more though tbh

anyways. i know i'm about to sound incredibly dramatic but the ending made me sob my lungs out. this show was really important to me. it led me to incredible people, other incredible stories, helped me live, etc. but i honestly found myself wishing i'd just never watched this series at all. the ending was eviscerating and Just Fucking Pointless. i don't think i'm ever going to be able to rewatch it. it's still hard for me to conceptualize that it was even real, that this is all we get. there's a lot more i could say about everything, but again, i've said a lot already and i'm not trying to write a fucking novel. i'll say more of what i want to in sporadic bursts i guess.

[genericpuff]

no stop this article is too funny

this is from 2020 and while it talks about webtoons in general as a platform and medium, there's an excerpt from Rachel that's ironically and hilariously telling on herself when it comes to her priorities as a creator and how her work has aged incredibly poorly in the past 4 years:

She may as well just be saying, "I like Webtoon because they don't have any quality control" and "the trad publishing market had standards that I couldn't live up to, so instead of actually trying to live up to them, I went with a platform that has zero standards and was willing to make me into the standard regardless of my own qualifications and lack thereof."

Like y'all, take this as advice from someone who's had their fair share of rejection letters... the print industry dumping your unsolicited portfolio in the bin isn't gatekeeping, it's the nature of the business. The way Rachel describes it here - albeit I'm sure it's simplified for the sake of being an interview answer, but still - makes it sound like she was just expecting to walk right into the trad publishing market without an agent, without a completed manuscript or pitch, without any professional representation, and just slam her portfolio of mid-2000's art on the desk expecting them to hire her on the spot.

Don't get me wrong, there are a lot of barriers that prevent people from getting into the trad market, hurdles that can often be outright unfair (lacking the funds, lacking the connections, etc.) but... there's also a reason many of those barriers are there in practice.

First of all, fun fact: the reason why many publishers don't take unsolicited manuscripts isn't just to help them filter out the spam and low-effort submissions and prevent an overload of submissions (because if they took submissions from anyone and everyone, the overviewing system would break entirely), but it's also for legal purposes so that they don't get sued. Because if Joe Chucklefuck sends in an unsolicited manuscript that just so happens to include a plot point about the multiverse, and then a new book series or movie comes out that is about the multiverse, Joe Chucklefuck might get the sense they're being stolen from and attempt to sue them for plagiarism. This is why it's stressed so much by publishers that any unsolicited manuscripts will not just go unread, but will be thrown straight into the bin.

But second, many publishers simply don't want to take the financial risks on random start-up creators whose only experience is running their own personal projects on Tumblr, much less personal projects like Rachel's, half of which are fetish-content and all of which are unfinished. Of course they weren't gonna take Rachel seriously back then, she hadn't done anything to build up her presence in the industry.

In that sense, yes, self-publishing or pursuing a platform gig like Webtoons probably was Rachel's next best option which would be perfectly acceptable on its own, but it's just so, so telling that she thinks it's a "perk" for Webtoons to lack so much in the way of quality control, and we would ironically see the glaring evidence of that "perk" 3-4 years later in LO's final season when every single element of it as a "professional" piece of work turned to shit. It's no wonder she liked Webtoons in 2020 for letting her do anything she wanted, because what she wanted absolutely would not fly with an actual editor and publishing agency that cared about putting out a polished piece of work. The only way she was able to get "in" with a professional publisher was through Del Rey after Webtoons brokered a deal for her to have LO put into print, and even that level of prestige can't hide the fact that LO sucks ass in print. It's almost like under normal circumstances and without Webtoons carrying her on their shoulders above every other creator on the platform - many of whom actually do have experience in both tradpub and self-publishing - Del Rey wouldn't have paid her any attention. Without Webtoons, no one would take her seriously because she doesn't take what she does seriously, and it shows in her priorities as a creator who simply wants to just do whatever she wants without any sort of reasonable oversight like research or editing which are, again, necessary expectations within the tradpub industry, because it's not just about being a free-thinking self-expressive artist anymore in that industry - it's a business.

Of course, Rachel is probably now laughing from her soapbox over the fact that she now technically helps run an imprint, so haha "poo on the meanie trad market", but considering that imprint has still not launched and has been put on the same "coming soon" track that the LO television show has been on for the past 4+ years on a loop, I'm not holding my breath that it's actually going to amount to anything substantial.

(gotta love how they asked if Rachel was gonna create any more stories and her answer was RSP, which will help other creators bring their stories to life. so at best she didn't answer the question which is nothing new for her, at worst she gave away the fact that she's gonna be acting as some kind of producer who will be given all the credit and praise for other creator's works and efforts lmao no thankssss)

And god knows what the quality control of this imprint is gonna be like if Rachel's attitude toward the trad market overall is, "Nooo they won't let me do what I wantttt :((((" when she admittedly never even broke into the trad market to begin with and had zero experience working within that industry prior to LO.

And even then, Webtoons still doesn't give her as much freedom of choice as she claims to have. I mean ffs, this is the same person whose moderators stated that the Swarovski crystal dress from the finale was done as a "fuck you" to Webtoons for not letting her draw Persephone nude all the time.

She's obviously still being prevented from doing what she wants to do, when a lot of what she wants to do is better off not passing the vibe check and making it into the comic.

Quality control exists for a reason, Rachel. And "letting you do what you want" isn't necessarily a "flex" that Webtoons can claim over trad publishing when that "flex" is forgoing the traditional barriers that would usually prevent someone like you from failing upwards into manufactured fame the way that you have.

And that's my big bag of cents on that.

[jahayla-parker]

do you mind doing a Kaz fic where she has had a crush a month before but is convinced it’s a lost cause bc he talks to inej a lot, but (PLOT TWIST) the reason he talks to inej is because he’s unsure if y/n likes him back? Angst with a happy ending?

-🍁

Lock and Key : Kaz Brekker x Reader

Descr: 4.5k wc, Reader and Kaz have unspoken feelings for each other. But Kaz’s attempts to work through what to do only cause misunderstandings and upsets. Until it all comes out and feelings are finally revealed. Hurt-comfort, angst-fluff.

Warnings: misunderstandings, SoC content. One curse word.

Notes: I’m SOOO sorry this took so long. It got lost in my requests!

Y/n sat on the edge of the roof kicking swinging legs back and forth. She bit into her bottom lip as she tried to keep herself calm; too many thoughts racing through her mind tonight. Needless, futile, stupid, jealous thoughts. She quickly released her lip from her teeth as she felt eyes on her. She scanned the skyline before relenting to who she’d assumed it was from the start and turned to look over her shoulder, “yes?”

Y/n watched as Inej made herself seen and slowly approached. That friendly smile of hers felt taunting in this moment. But y/n pasted one on herself before turning back to face the Ketterdam rooftops.

“Why are you out here this late?” Inej questioned softly as she carefully sat down beside y/n.

Y/n shrugged silently, not looking away from the skyline. She wasn’t going to let her off the hook that easily. When Inej wanted something, she got that thing. If only she hadn’t happened to want Kaz the way y/n did. But y/n refused to tell Inej that that was what had brought her out here tonight.

“Y/n, come on, everyone can tell you’re upset,” Inej remarked as the gray clouds above them began to drip rain onto the girls.

“I’m fine,” y/n retorted simply, briefly glancing at Inej’s side-profile.

Inej stared at y/n skeptically. “No one chooses to sit on a rooftop this late, in this weather, if they’re fine,” she argued.

“It wasn’t raining until you got here,” y/n pointed out with a shrug. Fitting. Her love life didn’t feel like it was going through a downpour until Inej entered the picture either. How ironic.

“I’m not just talking about tonight, y/n/n,” Inej sighed. “You’ve been distant and… sad.”

Inej had a point. Of course she did. Y/n had spent the last several weeks trying to distance herself from the crows. Well… from Kaz. And Inej. And mostly Kaz and Inej together. Which was occurring more often than not lately. The images from the last month played back in her mind yet again as if to remind her of her misery.

Y/n twirled the shiny coin around in between her pointer and middle finger as she practically bounced her way up the stairs to Kaz’s room, a smile on her face. She’d managed to trick some rich merchant into giving it to and she thought Kaz would love it. Maybe he’d even be proud of her for such an achievement. Although, truthfully she’d simply done it because she wanted him to have it thanks to the hopeless crush she’d developed a few weeks ago. Kaz didn’t date. Kaz didn’t look at anyone that way. Y/n included. But, maybe…

Y/n hummed to herself, knocking briefly on Kaz’s wooden door before letting herself in. She paused promptly upon realizing he wasn’t alone. Inej was here. Y/n swallowed thickly as she shifted her stance a bit. “I… umm.., sorry-,” she mumbled.

Inej stepped away from Kaz with a soft shake of her head as she smiled at y/n. “Hey y/n,” she greeted sweetly. “He’s all yours, I was just leaving,” she told the girl.

Y/n’s eyes nearly popped out of her head as her heart sank over Kaz’s immediate response to Inej’s words. His hand. He was… Kaz had reached out and gripped Inej’s wrist to stop her from leaving. He didn’t do that sorta thing. That wasn’t him. Yet, here he was. Doing that. Touching her. Inej. Y/n couldn’t help but stare at the hold Kaz had on Inej’s wrist. His gloves were on… but still.. he didn’t touch people. He didn’t react like that. So instinctual that he’d physically stop someone instead of using his words commands. He really didn’t want her to leave. She tore her eyes away from their hands only to find an equally, if not more, painful sight.

Kaz and Inej stood silently, staring at each other, no words exchanged but both wore meaningful expressions.

Y/n felt a lump in her throat as she tried to swallow. This wasn’t happening. She knew the chances of her crush being anything but a crush were slim. Especially given it was on Kaz. But… The one time she held romantic feelings for someone this happened? What’re the odds her crush would get over his trouble being open with people only to fall for someone else? Her hand holding the coin trembled lightly at her side as she analyzed Kaz’s face. He was stern and serious, but instead of his ever-present stoic expression, his eyes seemed to be…. They were almost… pleading. Ouch. She couldn’t make out Inej’s expression fully from this angle. But from what she could see, Inej held a tender gaze and a small but warm smile. Y/n squeezed her eyes shut tightly as if that would somehow make the sight before her disappear. “Umm..,” she cleared her throat, feeling as though she was interrupting… something. Something she wished she wasn’t happening. But it was. “I, sorry,” she repeated as she slowly opened her eyes. They finally stopped touching and were both now facing her. “I didn’t mean to…,” y/n shook her head, unable to say the words. “Anyways, I umm…,” she mumbled.

“Y/n,” Kaz spoke, his stoic expression back in place. “Out with it,” he instructed.

Hearing his gruff voice say her name in a moment like this hurt. But not as much as him ordering her to get on with it did. He didn’t want her here. She’d interrupted his time… his moment… with Inej. Inej was who he wanted to be speaking with, who he wanted to have present in the room now. Not y/n. “Right,” y/n creaked. “I just, I thought you might want this,” she explained, walking over to his desk. The coin clanged against the table top as she placed it down.

“Where..? Where did you g-,” Kaz began to ask as y/n stepped back from the desk.

“I made a deal with a merchant,” y/n shrugged, pretending it was nothing. In truth, it wasn’t nothing. It had taken her a week and a half to arrange and wasn’t the safest plan. But now… now it truly didn’t matter. In the end, maybe it was nothing.

Kaz scrutinized the rare coin from a distance, not having moved from the spot he was in when y/n first entered. As he looked up from his desk, he found she’d made her way to the door. He felt Inej watching him knowingly, but he didn’t know what to say. Why had y/n gotten this coin? And why had she given it to him? Had she done something she was trying to cover up? Or perhaps trying to get ahead of some mistake she might make later? Or…? No.

“It’s really shiny,” Inej commented with an encouraging smile.

“You don’t owe me anything,” Kaz spoke, picking up on Inej’s not-so-subtle hint to talk to y/n.

Y/n nodded, “I know”. She swallowed and turned her gaze away from the soft way Inej was looking at Kaz. “Goodnight”. It was a weird exit, but what else was she supposed to say after that?

—-

Y/n halted in the doorway, unconsciously stumbling backwards a bit. This was getting to be too much. First it was walking in on their moment. Then it was watching Inej go to his office every single night for the past week. But now this? She hadn’t realized she’d moved backwards, away from the scene before her until she felt her back bump into someone. She silently turned around. Nina. She offered her friend and fellow crow an apologetic expression, not having known she was behind her. She watched as Nina noticed the scene that was now behind y/n, her eyes widening with surprise before quickly narrowing in confusion. She couldn’t hear this. Nina loved gossip. She loved Nina. But she couldn’t bear to talk about the potential romance between Kaz and Inej. Before Nina could react further or comment, y/n side stepped her in the narrow hallway and quickly left the safe house. She made her way to the backside of the building and rested her back against the brick wall as her butt slid to the ground. Breathe. It’s fine. She has no claim to him anyways. It was an unrequited crush. Is. Not was. As much as she’d hoped the tortuous observations of the last week would break her crush, they didn’t. They just broke her instead.

—

“Y/n? You have to talk to someone about whatever is-” Inej’s voice pleaded, bringing y/n back to the present moment. A moment where y/n had ventured out of The Crow Club in hopes the cold air would relieve some of the ache in her chest from having witnessed her crush and his crush on what seemed like a date. Except now, to add to her never ending embarrassment and heartbreak, her crush’s crush was now questioning her as to what was troubling her. Saints she really has the worst luck. It hurt even more because she and Inej used to be close. She didn’t want to lose her friend. But every time she saw Inej now, it physically hurt. Hence why she was trying to distance herself from Kaz and her both. Until her heart had time to heal and move on.

Y/n shook her head.

Inej set a soft hand on y/n’s rain-soaked shoulder. “You know you can tell me anything,” she reminded the girl.

“No I can’t!” Y/n cried. Her eyes widened in shock over her outburst and she quickly slapped her hand over her mouth, ignoring the fact that due to it being rainy tiny grains from the roof’s shingles had transferred to her hand and were now poking her face.

“What?” Inej frowned. “Why not?” When she didn’t get a response, she sighed. “Please? If I did something wrong I’d like to fix it”.

Y/n felt a few guilty tears escape her eyes. She wiped the grains off her face before she lowered her hand back to the shingles under them. “You didn’t, Inej… I’m sorry,” she whimpered quietly, “you didn’t do anything wrong!”

“Then why can’t you talk to me?” Inej asked.

Y/n sighed. “I’m just… working through something,” she explained vaguely.

Inej nodded, “I’d like to help”.

“Inej… Thank you, truly,” y/n replied. “But, it’s not fair for me to talk to you about this”. Inej hadn’t done this intentionally. It wasn’t fair for y/n to be upset with her. Or to be upset about it at all. But she was.

“So it does involve me,” Inej interpreted. “Y/n, please just tell me, I know your heart, I know you won’t mean any malice with whatever it is…”

Y/n sighed. Maybe this is what it would take. Maybe this would help her accept the way things were. Maybe it would help her finally be able to move on. To have Inej back as a friend. To not have an ache in her chest every time she looked at Kaz. Maybe even to be happy for them finding love together. Oww. That one still stung. Maybe that one would take longer. It wasn’t fair to make Inej feel guilty for this. But perhaps by telling her, maybe Inej would adjust her behaviors so that it wasn’t so in her face. Not that Inej owed her that. And y/n could never dare ask for that. But Inej was caring. Maybe she’d offer to keep her and Kaz’s affairs more secret. At least until y/n moved on.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this… and please don’t tell anyone, especially him…,” y/n pleaded. She felt bad for asking Inej to keep a secret from her… boyfriend? Is that was she and Kaz were now? She shook the question off. “But, I… kinda sorta… may have developed a little bit of a crush on…” she mumbled slowly. “Kaz, and I know how insane that it is. I knew the even before I knew about you two. But now I feel even worse about it,” she rushed out as quickly as possible. “And I’m so sorry Inej! I-”.

“Wait..,” Inej interrupted, resting her palm on y/n’s shoulder. “Why are you apologizing to me for liking Kaz?” She asked.

“Because it’s not fair to you! And I would never act on it now that I know, I swear!” Y/n vowed.

“Now that you know what?” Inej questioned, choosing just one of the many questions she now had.

“Inej,” y/n sighed as she looked her way. “I know about you and Kaz,” she informed her. “And I’m happy for you, really! It’s just that right now-”.

Inej couldn’t help but giggle. “Sorry,” she apologized. “But I couldn’t help it. Y/n, there’s nothing between me and Kaz,” she promised.

Y/n gave Inej a look of frustration. “Inej,” she scolded.

“I swear on every single Saint out there, I have no feelings for Kaz and he has none for me,” Inej spoke softly.

Y/n looked away for a moment, contemplating the last month. “I’ve seen it,” she argued. Maybe they were both too clueless to see it themselves? Was she really now going to have to point out to Inej how Kaz saw her? How he’d unknowingly chosen her over y/n? The universe was cruel.

“What are you-,” Inej began.

“You’re always in his office. He doesn’t let many people do that Inej. Then there’s the way he’s always looking over at you randomly. The way he tended to your wounds after the fight with Marcello. It first dawned on me when I saw the way he reached for your hand to stop you from leaving when I came to give him that damn coin,” y/n rambled, facing the skyline so as to not let Inej see her tears.

Inej closed her eyes as she was hit with guilt. She hadn’t considered how those things looked. Her eyes opened upon hearing y/n try to stifle a sniffle. She promptly stood up and held her hand out for y/n who gazed up at her in confusion. “Trust me, please,” Inej requested.

Kaz’s eyes snapped to the window as y/n and Inej made their way back inside. His eyes scanned y/n’s appearance but stopped upon seeing her red eyes. He turned his gaze to Inej in question as the Wraith looked his way.

Inej sensed the way y/n tensed up beside her. No, No, No. It wasn’t like that. No wonder y/n thought Kaz liked her. He was looking at her a lot lately. But it wasn’t for the reasons y/n thought! She turned to her friend and gripped her hand tightly. She wordlessly made her way to Kaz, dragging the girl with her. She gave Kaz a knowing stare, “now”.

Inej noticed the way Kaz seemed reluctant. Still. After everything she’d tried to do to convince him the past month. She narrowed her eyes and gave him a look. “Kaz, I’m dead serious. You have to tell her,” she commanded in a whispered but sharp tone.

Y/n heard Inej’s whisper and tugged on the hand that was keeping her from fleeing. “Inej?” She asked, uncertain where this was going.

Inej faced y/n with a supportive smile and shook her head. “I promise, it’ll all be made clear”. Her head snapped to the left as she narrowed her eyes at Kaz. “Won’t it Kaz?”

Kaz squinted in confusion. He looked over at y/n, trying to ignore the way her reddened eyes made his chest hurt. “What is it that is unclear?”

Y/n rapidly shook her head as she stared at Inej.

Inej sighed. Y/n didn’t want her to say anything. But it would be in y/n’s best interest if Inej ignored those wishes. “I…,” she began, but stopped. Kaz needed to do this. He needed to be the one to tell her. She worked with him for a month on this. The misunderstandings that were troubling y/n couldn’t be for nothing. “Just…. Tell her. Now,” she ordered, squeezing y/n’s shoulder before quickly leaving. She shut the door behind her and sighed as she silently prayed to her Saints for Kaz to finally tell y/n.

“Kaz?” Y/n asked nervously as she turned back to him after having watched Inej abandon her here.

“I’ve been keeping something from you,” Kaz confessed, his anxious eyes scanning her every move as he tried to read her mind. He watched as she nodded. Did she already know? No. If she did she wouldn’t be standing here. But maybe that’s why she had been crying. No. Inej wouldn’t demand he tell her if she already knew. So why was she nodding? And why had she been crying?

“Sometimes I hate you,” Kaz told her.

“You hate me?”

This wasn’t how Inej had instructed him to tell her when they rehearsed earlier tonight. But if he had to do this now and not on his own time, when he knew for certain how y/n felt, then this was how it was going to go. Not like it would matter anyways. It was likely unrequited.

“Sometimes. You’ve ruined things”.

“I… I… didn’t mean to”.

“That’s just it y/n,” he sighed, punching the bridge of his nose. “It’s not even fair for me to hate you from time to time over this because you didn’t mean to do any it. You didn’t mean to drive me insane. You didn’t mean to make me break the one vow I made to myself…”

“I don’t…”

“I told myself I’d never let someone in,” Kaz explained. “And then, you….” He groaned. “I don’t know how you did it. And I know you didn’t mean to. So, I know you don’t feel the same. But that doesn’t mean I don’t despise the fact you managed to do this”.

“Do what?”

“Make me feel this way!” Kaz rose his voice.

She squinted. “What are you talking about?” “You’re mad I managed to make you hate me?” she asked, seeking clarification.

“No! Dammit,” Kaz scoffed. “I’m mad you made me feel.”

“Feel what?”

“Everything.”

“Wh…?”

“You made me feel, y/n. In general. But also things I had buried years ago, with the intent to never feel again. You made me feel and I hate it.”

“Are you…? No… You’re not… You’re not actually suggesting you have feelings for me, are you?” Y/n asked in offense. Would he really stoop to this level?

Kaz looked away from her, opting to stare at his windowsill instead.

“If you’re trying to do this to keep your relationship with Inej a secret you don’t have to, I won’t-”.

Kaz choked on his breath. “My what?! …with who?!”

“Kaz”.

“No,” he cut her off as he shook his head and stepped closer. “Is that…” he began. Unlikely. He was probably projecting by thinking it might have something to do with why she’s been distant. Frustration took over as he found his mind to be a mess of crossed wires and chaos. He’d tried to express his feelings to best he can but was still not successful in getting her to understand. He knew she might not feel same way but still, this was annoying. “I’m not trying to con anyone,” he said, voice coming out a bit angry from his disbelief. He’d just confessed his feelings and she was questioning his sincerity and intentions? “If I was trying to hide my… feelings.. would I have just admired that vulnerability to you?” He asked rhetorically.

“But… you…”

“What?”

“The looks”.

“Excuse me?” Kaz sighed. “Full sentences would be great, y/n”.

“I’ve seen the way you are with her,” y/n defended.

“Care to elaborate?” He asked, brow raised.

“First, there was when I came in to give you the-,” she paused as her eyes caught sight of the item in question. He kept it. He hadn’t sold it. And not only did he keep it, he had it on a cushioned pad on his desk. He never kept trinkets on his desk. Focus. “That coin,” she said bringing the conversation back. “I walked in on… Well I don’t really know but, I saw the way you didn’t want her to leave. I clearly interpreted something and you didn’t want me to see it but I could tell you didn’t want her to leave”.

Kaz hummed in understanding. “You did interpret something that night.” He ran his hands over the coin in question for a moment in silence before putting it back down. “And you’re right. You don’t know what it was.” He sighed as he felt his cheeks flush. “I had asked Inej to help me with a project”. When she nodded slowly, he hesitantly continued. “That’s all”.

“It was really important,” y/n recalled, picturing the way he’d actually grabbed for Inej’s wrist.

“It was.” Kaz swallowed. “I tasked her with finding out how you’d feel if I told you…. If we had this conversation,” he corrected.

“What about when you were fixing her cuts from the fight against-”

“Marcello?” Kaz asked for her, knowing he’d only done such a thing once and still felt weird about it. “She’d refused to answer my questions until her wounds were stitched”.

“What questions?”

“Why you seemed to be becoming more distant. If she’d told you despite swearing not to.”

Y/n nodded slowly as she tried to absorb and analyze the information. He noticed? He was worried about that? So much so he attended to Inej’s cuts in order to get the answers to those questions?

“This is what Inej meant by things needing to become clear, isn’t it?” Kaz asked.

Y/n nodded.

Kaz hummed, “anything else?”

“You keep looking over at her randomly.”

Kaz chuckled dryly. So much for the silent check ins being subtle. “It’s not random”.

“Right.. no, I know.. that’s-”.

“I…. I can handle most things on my own, but making conversation, being… friendly.., isn’t my forte.” He sighed. “Inej was also tasked with correcting me if I said or did something that… well.. might have upset you or be taken wrong”.

Y/n blinked slowly at Kaz in surprise. “You-… what?”

“Anything else?” Kaz echoed as he cleared his throat.

“Tonight…”

Kaz groaned. “Ironically, Inej was trying to persuade me into having this exact conversation with you”.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why did she want you to have this conversation with me?”

Kaz was silent for a moment. “She claimed she was tired of trying to collect signs that this conversation would go well and threatened that if I didn’t have this conversation soon she’d tell you herself.” He bashfully looked away from her again.

“You… you went and did all of this… because you didn’t know how I’d react?”

Kaz nodded stiffly.

“I … I’m still not sure I understand,” y/n confessed. “And I really don’t want to misinterpret this cause I’ll say something I’ll probably die of embarrassment for saying if I do”. “So…,” she shook her head in confusion. “I know feelings are… new… for you Kaz, but… You’ve both stated you hate me and that you were willing to go through all of this because you needed to know how I’d react to you telling me i made you feel things… but that’s… well, confusing!”

“Sometimes I hate you because I don’t hate you. Because I can’t. I hate that I feel… anything. Because it’s pointless. I hate that I can’t do anything about the way I feel. I hate that I feel I have to tell you this. I hate that nothing will come of this. I hate what this means for you”.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m wretched, y/n. And so is the Barrel,” Kaz said as he shook his head. “If anyone else knew this.. what I’ve been trying to tell you… you’d be in danger”.

“Are you saying that… no… I need you to say it. What is it you’re saying Kaz?”

“Even though unrequited, my feelings for you could be harmful if word got out. So while you might wish to gossip about managing to make the Bastard of the Barrel feel, I don’t advise doing so outside of the crows, or with Jesper either, he’s rather loose lipped and if it gets out to the wrong people you might be in the line of fire and-,” Kaz rambled nervously.

“Kaz stop… you… you like me?”

“Yes,” he answered gruffly. “How many times do I need to say that?”

“Once Kaz. I needed you to say it once,” she sighed. “You said you hated me.”

“Sometimes”.

“Right, sometimes hate me”.

Kaz echoed her sigh. “I don’t actually hate you. Ever. I can’t. I hate that I can’t, but it’s true.”

“So you just… like me? But.., hate that you do?” Y/n questioned. When he nodded silently, she frowned. “Am I really that bad?”

“What?!” Kaz hissed, his sharp gaze snapping over to her.

“Is liking me so horrible?”

“No,” He answered as he moved closer. “Unfortunately it’s not. That’s the problem.”

“Then why do you hate that you like me?”

“I told myself I wouldn’t feel this way. For anyone. Ever.”

“What’s so bad about feeling this way for someone?”

“I told you y/n,” Kaz complained with a sigh. “Nothing can come of it,” he reminded her.

“So… even though you like me. And I….” She took a deep breath, still in disbelief she was going to admit it to his face. “Like you,” she finished. “And all this miscommunication is cleared up, you’re saying that-,”.

“What?” Kaz croaked, eyes locked on her.

“What?”

“What did you just say?”

“The miscommunication is cleared up,” y/n repeated. That wasn’t what he was referring to.

“Before that y/n,” Kaz amended.

“That I like you. I said I like you Kaz”.

It was silent in the room for a painfully long time before he spoke again. When he did, all Kaz said was, “you do..?”

Y/n laughed. “Yes Kaz, that’s why I was upset over you and Inej being-”

“Nothing, we’re nothing,” Kaz interrupted.

“I know,” she smiled, “now”.

Kaz nodded. “You like me,” he whispered.

“I do,” she acknowledged. “And you like me”.

“I do”. He nodded. “But y/n-”.

“No”.

“No?”

“We didn’t just talk through all of this for you to just go back to pretending that we didn’t,” she declared.

“Y/n, if the Dime Lions, or Pekka, or-”.

“I don’t care”

“I do,” Kaz stated sharply.

“I know,” she replied as she moved closer to him. “And I appreciate that. But you know I can defend myself”.

“Yes, but the risks are too-”

“That’s what we do isn’t it?” She asked. Upon seeing the confusion in his eyes, she explained, “we take risks.”

“Not with your life, y/n”.

“I’ve already tried to ignore the way I feel, and it doesn’t work. That’s not living, Kaz”.

“You’d still be alive,” he argued.

“I would be either way, Kaz. It doesn’t have to be so dramatic and black and white”.

When Kaz merely sighed, she shook her head. “If you don’t want to be with me for any other reason, then-”.

“That’s not it,” he nearly growled.

“Then stop resisting. You’re refusing to let yourself live because of the chance something could go wrong. But, that’s life Kaz,” she spoke softly.

“You want this? Knowing the risks?”

“I do.” She nodded. “We can keep it secret if that would make you feel better. I don’t care.”

“It would, but what if it-”

“If it gets out, we deal with it, then. Together. Deal Brekker?”

The edges of Kaz’s lips uncontrollably curled up. “The deal is the deal,” he conceded, already plotting ways to keep this development on lockdown with top level privacy.

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[twit-ter-pa-ted]

Yes, ma'am.

pairing: Vinsmoke Sanji x afab!Reader

warnings: nothing, just flirting!

overview: You're a sea merchant hoping to one day dine at Baratie. What you didn't account for was catching the sous chef's eye.

a/n: i wrote this during a power outage. also i may have gotten carried away with the plot so please bear with me on this

part two — final part

The Baratie was the name of a sea restaurant from the East Blue that you had heard uttered by multiple customers. Being a sea merchant, it wasn't difficult not to.

It hadn't been long since you first started in this line of business, since you reckoned you ought to learn how to defend yourself first before setting sail into a sea full of savage pirates.

And you were right. Multiple tried their luck to rob you of your merchandise, if not your Berry, and all failed.

As odd as it seemed, you had always dreamt of becoming a merchant at sea. Your father was the town's merchant, and that may have had some influence on your own dream. And now that you had achieved just that, a certain restaurant had slowly begun to pique your interest.

Despite roaming the sea for almost three years now, you had yet to run into this sea restaurant you had heard of countless times. The thought of Baratie was starting to irritate you, as was the unlikeliness that you still had yet to find it in the vast sea of the East Blue. You were beginning to think that, unlike for anyone else, you finding it would be like someone finally finding the One Piece.

"Hey, lady, I'm talkin' to ya!" The Z lister pirate's voice boomed. He had announced his name upon crashing through the doors – it might have been something like Guicha Rebel, but you couldn't be sure.

"Sorry. What were you saying?" You leaned on your forearms that rested on the counter in front of you. You swore to listen, but your eyes wandered towards the tent that extended from your cabin and into half of the main deck.

"This right here? Should only be for 500." He held up a sword that he had taken from one of the barrels.

Your eyes turned half-lidded with disinterest. "I know what my shit's worth, pirate."

"And I know this ain't worth 1,000."

"If you don't like it, feel free to leave."

"Hey! I have a 500,000 bounty, you better watch your mouth." You had begun laughing as he brought up his bounty. You pointed at the board behind you which held multiple wanted posters with bounties even twice as high as his.

"Please, I've been in these seas for three years. I've had worse."

You could see the way his eyes widened in fear and realization. There was no way you…

"You're not telling me that…" He had recognized at first glance that they were pirates whose bounties had been claimed. You didn't answer.

"Now, you either buy what you need and leave, or you leave with your bounty." That was always the choice you gave them and more often than not, they chose neither options.

He glared at you for a moment before letting the sword clatter onto the floor and turning around. What came next was something you just couldn't help.

"With a 500,000 bounty, you sure as hell are cheap," you remarked.

He groaned in frustration before he unsheathed his sword, turned around, and threw it your direction. You simply moved your head to avoid it, ignoring how it pierced through your bounty board and taking your pistol from below the counter.

Now, you specifically had your place designed so that you would be at an advantage during any battle despite how many people you were against. You knew how the bullets would ricochet to the blindspots you had behind the barrels when you hit a certain spot on the iron on the wall, specifically built into the wall for that reason.

You ducked behind the counter as the pirate took out his own pistol and aimed for your head. You leaned towards your left to shoot at an iron part of the wall. You heard a grunt come from him as his leg was shot. You straightened again and walked around the counter while the pirate clutched at his leg.

"What…What did you – " His breathing was ragged. He had been shot at before, but not like this.

You took a bullet out of your gun's cylinder, holding it between your index finger and thumb while he fell to his side in pain. You nonchalantly kneeled next to his head. "Burrow Bullets – doesn't exit the body once you shoot it, no matter the distance, which makes it hurt so much worse when you're shot at a short distance because it just burrows."

You grinned at your selfmade product with pride before sliding it back into the cylinder. "Costs 5,000 per pack. Not that you'd be able to buy 'em from me. But I do appreciate doing business with you." It was the last thing he heard from you before the butt of your gun met with his temple.

Predictably, he had a copy of his wanted poster in his pocket. Guicha Reuben. "Huh."

You looked between the unconscious man and the poster. "Rebel sounds better," you said before standing and pinning his poster to your board, pulling his sword out. You inspected it before placing it in the barrel with swords of the price of 500.

* * * * * *

It was your day off. You rarely took day offs, but you felt you had to after getting in a bar fight an island ago. You laid in a hammock that hung beside the main mast with your father's jacket over your face to shield it from the sun.

You froze as you heard something more than the sound of the ocean and the breeze, taking the jacket off your face and standing up.

You thought it was another pirate ship before you looked ahead. Your eyes widened.

Before you could react, you heard the transponder snail sound out in your cabin. You ran to grab it, taking the receiver.

"Yeah?"

The familiar voice of Garp sounded from the snail as he called your name. The Vice Admiral had sent you the snail as you were almost considered a regular at their bases. "How have you been, eh?"

"Get to the point, Garp." He simply chuckled at your straightforwardness.

"There're new pirates in our turf, broker." Garp was your father's old friend. He had been calling you broker for as long as you could remember. You stopped correcting him long ago. "A bugger with a straw hat, a redhead, a long-nose, and Roronoa Zoro."

You couldn't help but raise your brows in surprise. The Roronoa Zoro? Still, you replied nonchalantly – "I'm not a pirate hunter."

You could practically hear him shrug. "I'm just warning you in case you run into one of them."

It was rare for Garp to give you warnings. The last he had given was of Don Krieg, but now he warned you of nameless pirates? "And what makes this band of pirates different from the others?"

It was silent on the other end for a while.

"They defeated Axe-Hand Morgan and escaped his marine base."

* * * * * *

Once the exchange ended between you and Garp, you quickly ran outside and redirected the ship in a panic, as it had started to drift away from the sea restaurant in the distance.

You docked onto its small harbor and entered, greeted by a fishman who questioned you regarding reservations. You simply slipped him a few Berries and got yourself a table.

You had only entered the dining area when a fight ensued, only to be quickly resolved by a blonde waiter who kicked the fighting pair down.

"Great fighter," you heard someone from another booth mutter. You couldn't disagree as you watched the waiter approach a booth with a small bowl of complimentary bread.

You started looking over the menu when you heard someone turn the chair parallel from you in its place, their chest against the back side of the chair as they sat.

"What's a pretty thing like you doing at a shitty restaurant like this?"

Your brows raised in surprise as you dropped the menu. It was the waiter from earlier, a flirty grin now plastered on his lips.

"I thought this was one of the finest restaurants in East Blue?" You teased which caused him to let out a sultry chuckle.

"Oh, darling, it's only one of the finest because I'm here."

"Well…" You trailed off, silently asking for his name as you did.

"Sanji."

You recognized the name. "Sanji the sous chef."

"So you know me?" You nodded. He seemed surprised you did.

"I've heard of Baratie's sous chef. I just didn't know he was a part-time waiter," he remarked.

"Nothing but charity work, really," he retorted smoothly, as if he hadn't been kicked out of the line. "What would the beautiful madam like to have?"

You shrugged, looking at the menu again before dropping it onto the table. "None of these really interest me."

"Naturally, you're simply above anything being served here," he remarked in a heartbeat. He was completely wrapped around your finger despite the fact that he was flirting with a redhead a few tables away just moments ago.

"Think you could whip up something for me, sous chef?"

He nodded, not missing the way you had looked him up and down. "Anything, darling."

You smirked as if to challenge. "I'll leave it up to you. I'm not necessarily picky."

"And what drink would you like with that, my love?" His smile grew wider as he thought of the countless dishes he could possibly make for you, even with the limitations of the supplies in the pantry.

"I would love a strawberry milkshake."

"Coming right up." He began to stand up. You decided to test the waters to see the extent of what he would be willing to do for you despite only meeting you.

"I'm not finished." You started talking again before he could offer an alluring apology. "I want a thin coat of strawberry syrup in the glass, no seeds, whipped cream that's not too whipped, and a strawberry to top it off. I don't want it sour, I want it sweet."

Something about you was different – Sanji could tell. Maybe it was the way you showed him interest while keeping your composure, or maybe it was the way your eyes lit up at his obedience – how you seemed to get off on it. Or maybe it was just you.

He flashed another smile as he stood from his seat. "Yes, ma'am."

a/n: i may or may not already have a part two idea in mind

[liquidorcard]

Lily's Harley Quinn Show video is Garbage (and here's why)

We all know Lily's media hottakes are BAD. But, I feel like critics have mostly focused on her hottakes on media she hates. I've personally become more interested in what media she actually LIKES . . . Because her rational is often times even more nuts.

Well, this video made me mad enough that I'm gunna write a post about it now. Prepare your assholes for the death rattle of this DC fanboy losing his shit:

To be clear, I like this show, for some of the same reasons Lily does even. . . But that's not going to stop me from taking the piss.

(I encourage you all to watch the video in full beforehand so you can get the context of the quotes I'm pulling. Timestamps will be included though.

I just told people to watch your stupid video Lily-- can't cry copyright here.)

-0:19: TWENTY SECONDS IN, STEVEN UNIVERSE IS REFERENCED. GG LILLIAN.

-0:36: BITCHING ABOUT HOW VICTIMIZED SHE IS. 30 SECONDS IN.

-0:55: "I dare say it's the best thing to come out of the Batman franchise in a long time."

It seems like the last thing Lily watched/played/read in "the Batman franchise" was The Dark Knight. You dare boldly, Lily. Ironically I feel like she would at least like the Lego Batman movie, if not all the other good shit that's come out since 2011. Also, this is one of the first of many times she calls the entire fucking DC Universe "The Batman Franchise."

-1:00: "If you're watching this show for at all you're watching it for the romantic arc between Harley and Ivy. Don't lie."

I know this is a joke. I'm not an idiot, but. If you're familiar with Lily's general media consumption, you'll be well aware she watches shit a lot of the time for the ships and the ships ALONE. I feel like this really highlights how she views media in general in a way that's rather revealing. This video is two years old, and I wouldn't be surprised if Lily's opinion has soured a bit given the direction the show goes after this video was released. Put a pin in this comment. 📌

-1:15: "I mean it's a post-joker Harley Quinn show what else are they going to do.

Put a pin in that comment.📌

-2:00: Lily goes on to summarize the plot of the show . . . Completely ignoring all the plot beats that have nothing to do with the romance.

Put a pin in that one too.📌

-3:30: Lily indicates she identifies with Ivy.

Another pin.📌

-4:10: Lily starts talking about how near the end of the second season, Harley has now confessed her feelings to Ivy, but Ivy turns her down because she's going to get married to Kite Man (enjoy the insanity of that sentence if you haven't seen the show.)

Though I don't think she's nessesarily making any real poor points here yet, I want to point out that she really flattens the complexity of the emotions going on here. The problem is that Ivy and Harley's relationship has reached a level of intimacy where they really can't just go back to being friends. Ivy is happily in a relationship with Kite Man at this point, he's been a much more stable and reliable partner to Ivy. Though it's implied her feelings for Harley go a lot deeper. During Joker's confrontation of Harley, Lily frames it as a "go get 'er" pep talk like it's a fucking 80s rom com. He's trying more to get Harley to emotionally resolve things with her-- regardless of outcome. Ivy did say no once already. The audience expects she isn't going to say no a second time since that wouldn't be a narratively satisfying conclusion, but in the real world equivalent, she could have. The Joker wasn't telling Harley to harass Ivy until she gives in.

-5:16: Not really a mark against Lily's video persay, but in a season that aired after Lily made this video the prospect of Harley and Ivy breaking up is explored. Lily must have been seething, lol.

-5:28: "I love a good fluffy romance. I'm so fucking done with people's obsession with the nasty stuff [Flashes Catra and Adora on screen.]"

Honestly this comment has me wondering if Lily decided to check her phone or just skip through scenes where Harley and Ivy weren't being lovey-dovey. I don't know what fucking show she apparently watched (foreshadowing is a narrative tool wh--.)

-5:48: "Poison Ivy has always had the same problem a lot of female characters in DC comics have had in despite being an actual doctor they always just put her in a skin tight leotard [ . . . ] About the only notable exception to that was in The Batman [the 2005 show] where she was a teenager [classical Lily goonery inserted here.]"

Ignoring the goon comment, in isolation I don't have a grievance with this comment persay. As a generalization, it's more or less true about Ivy. She's unfortunately one of the lesser well-used characters in the various DC canons as a whole. However, Lily is going to start implying she's more familiar with DC in general, especially the comics, than she really is. I have strong reason to doubt Lily would know Ivy canonically has a doctorate in botanical sciences if this show didn't call so much attention to it. You'll see why in a moment.

Also the 2005 Batman show is far from the only iteration to reimagine Ivy as a teen. I like that show's take on Ivy too, but that's not a fucking unique spin on the character.

-6:57: "Clayface was always a random D-list monster like Carnage, but here he's reimagined as a struggling actor."

In a show that had the balls to feature Queen of Fables, she's calling Clayface a fucking "d-lister." Nevermind Carnage. But no Lily, Clayface has been a struggling actor since his first appearance in Detective Comics No.40. It's literally the first thing in his bio on his fucking wiki page.

-7:09: "There's one episode where [Clayface] assumes the identity of Stephanie to get into Riddler's college [ . . . ] Seriously I'm convinced he's been moonlighting as Stephanie a lot. The other girls on campus call her 'Steph.' She's been there for a while. This is Clayface's secret identity and you can't convince me otherwise."

LILY THAT'S NOT SUBTEXT THAT'S THE FUCKING JOKE. IT'S TEXT. IT'S CANON. YES. CLAYFACE HAS BEEN FUCKING AROUND ON RIDDLER'S CAMPUS THIS WHOLE TIME. CONFIRMED IN THE SHOW. LILY. LILLLYYYYYY.

Worth pointing out too, she'd totally call Clayface's Stephanie character transphobic if she hated the show.

-9:00: "The writers though 'okay, what do we use to fill our quota of the sad misguided villian this arc-- oh I know fucking BATMAN!'"

Lily what the fuck are you doing when you sit down to watch a show for your channel? Are you playing Candycrush the whole time? Are you screaming at Mikaila that often you miss like . . . Almost everything!? What are you doin' sweaty!?

Lilian, Bruce is not the primary antagonist of the 3rd season . . . IVY IS. Or really, Harley and Ivy's emotional dysfunction is the antagonist of basically this whole series, and it's Ivy's turn to be the main driver of conflict. The person destroying Gotham is Ivy. Not Batman, IVY.

Bruce and Selina's relationship is supposed to be a conceptual foil to Harley and Ivy's. Bruce is having an emotional breakdown the entire series has more or less been building up to.

-9:15: [In reference to Batman getting sent to prison] "I want him to get some nice and comfortable therapy."

. . . Lily is that what you think happens in prison?

-9:35: Lily is talking about the Joker's step-dad arc, and this is as good a time as any to stop for a sec to talk about how Lily doesn't seem to get what The Harley Show is doing with the characters.

The thing that makes the show an exceptionally brilliant take on the DC universe is that virtually all the characters (with some exceptions, that were tweaked for the better mostly) are actually faithful to their comic book/generally established characterization. To an impressive degree, down to even just minor details. You can tell the people who made this show are genuine fans of DC comics. Their personalities and character arcs are exaggerated for comedic effect, with specific interesting angles teased out to draw focus to them. Some elements of their personality are recontextualized to create a more engaging dynamic, but regardless. Even most of the plot elements are at least loose adaptations of storylines from the comic, or other DC media. It's really impressive how the show both works as a functional take on the DC universe by itself, and as a parody of it. Lily demonstrates she's totally oblivious to this multiple times in the video, but her section on the Joker best exemplifies this.

The Joker has taken over and/or become mayor of Gotham multiple times in the comics. Lily thinks for some god forsaken reason in the 70 something years Batman comics have been printed, nobody's thought of that. THEY HAVE. The gag with the second time Joker takes over Gotham IN THIS FUCKING SHOW ALONE is . . . He's actually a really good mayor. Gotham is a perpetual capitalist nightmare shithole of a city. The most insane, radical anarchist thing for The Joker to do is . . . Be a socialist who actually gives a shit about the small folk. That's the joke, Lily. That's the joke. That's the mother fucking JOKE. THE FUNNY HAHA, THERE IT IS LILY. I FUCKING EXPLAINED IT TO YOU.

And Lilian. The Joker being at his most normal and stable while he has a family. Is. A. Direct. Parody. Of. One. Of. The. Most. FAMOUS. BATMAN STORIES. EVER. WRITTEN.

SHE IS LITERALLY FUCKING SHOWING THE EPISODE WHERE THEY DIRECTLY VISUALLY REFERENCE THE KILLING JOKE ON SCREEN. LILY YOU'RE GOING TO GIVE ME A FUCKING HERNIA.

-10:10: Lily calls Sam Raimi a "douchebag."

Fuck right off.

-10:25: "It's a return to wacky hijinks that uses to define The Joker back when he was a gangster in funny makeup."

NO IT ISN'T LILY.

-11:00: Lily bitches about Harley Quinn for the 7 minutes in the remaining runtime.

Okay, the play-by-play is over, I'm going to address this section all at once because it will be quicker and more comprehensive if I do. This is the point where all the aformentioned pins come in.

Though I'm going to have to be ignoring some bullshit Lily says here in order to stay focused, I will mention first, Lily doesn't seem to realize Batfleck and Nolan's Batman were MASSIVE departures from the comics and don't pull much from the storylines. I don't think that's nessesarily a bad thing, even though I'm not the biggest fan of either of those interpretations, but for the record-- no. Those adaptations have almost nothing to do with Year one, The Dark Night Returns, The Killing Joke, or The Long Halloween outside of superficial elements. Lily just googled "famous Batman comics" and picked the four she probably vaguely heard of before. Again, she didn't even recognize the in-your-face impossible to miss Killing Joke parody episode she used as footage for this video. SHE'S JUST PRETENDING SHE'S READ COMICS SHE HASN'T.

Now to the point:

Lily's rational for not liking Harley's portrayal in the Harley Quinn show is honest to god brain damage. I'm not even sure how hard I need to go into explaining this because . . . It's pointing at the text itself and calling it a flaw. Harley's entire journey as a person is TRYING TO DISCOVER WHO SHE IS outside of the toxic codependency she had with the Joker. Her arc is both a meta commentary on the nature of the character conceptually and her journey to redefine herself. THIS ISN'T FUCKING SUBTLE. THIS IS STATED IN THE SHOW. Harley's identity crisis over whether or not she's even a villan anymore STARTS IN SEASON 3. Harley's lack of inhibition is what DRIVES THE PLOT IN SEASON 2. Harley's struggles to emancipat herself IS THE PLOT OF THE FIRST FUCKING EPISODE. This is also honestly the ONLY DC property I can think of that actually bothers to do something with the fact that Harley is a psychologist. Almost on that basis alone, it's one of the most refreshing takes on the character. That actually means something when I say it, because I've actually read a fucking comic in my life. LILY WHAT FUCKING DIMENSION DO YOU SLIP INTO ANY TIME YOU SIT DOWN TO WATCH A SHOW.

That question is rhetorical-- Lily tells on herself several times throughout this video. Remember those pins? Go read em again. Lily identifies with Ivy, so Lily decided Ivy is the "real" main character-- and wants Harley to be Ivy's loving kissy huggy gf. She genuinely thinks the show is actively making a mistake anytime her smut ship fanfic is interrupted. Lily wants porn. LILY YEARNS FOR THE PORN, ALWAYS. Every single fucking time.

She's decided Ivy has done nothing wrong to create tension in the relationship. She has deemed the character flaws Harley has that creates tension in the relationship a mistake in the writing.

Because Lily has not actually read a comic, but probably has seen Batman: The Animated Series-- she's missed all of the other references and spoofs in the show except for the ones involving Harley. That was the show she was originally created in.

Case-fucking-closed. Water is wet, the sky is blue, and Lily Orchard is talking out of her ass.

Kill my parents and call me the world's greatest detective, I guess.

[actually-factually-anonymous]

The Reveal is Worthless

I entreat the reader to remember the earlier period of the Miraculous fandom, back when Ladybug and Chat Noir were something like actual partners instead of superior and subordinate.

There was something special about their relationship. They were friends who cared for one another, who relied upon one another and trusted each other in a way they could no one else, despite neither knowing the true name of the other. They didn't fully know one another, but their relationship was a one-a-kind friendship based upon a unique experience between them that no one else could relate to.

And of course, there was that ironic romance, the Love Square whose dynamics underpinned the plots of so many of the early season episodes. Marinette loved the boy she thought she knew, and Chat Noir loved the heroine who he fought beside: neither necessarily saw the full value the other had to offer because they were blinded by the idealised image they had of the other's alter-ego.

Thus the reveal and teasing thereof was an enticing prospect: these two closest of friends and allies could finally merge their lives together without professional boundaries. Adrien could get to know the clumsy girl who wasn't a perfect heroine and Marinette would finally be able to actually know who Adrien was, as opposed to being infatuated with his model image.

A true basis for a true relationship.

And something they could never have so long as their mission continued. For until then, Ladybug and Chat Noir could only be partners and friends, but their responsibilities would always have a barrier between them.

What a shame how this premise has been so utterly devalued.

-

There are three aspects to consider here:

1: Romance

2: True understanding/personal development

3: Exclusivity/Trust

-

Romance

The first is the simplest and quickest to cover.

The nature of the Love Square was an ironic circle of attraction, Marinette loved Adrien, but Adrien loved Ladybug- so they were in effect rejecting each other to chase after one another. The only seeming solution was for the identities to be revealed and thus allow the two to actually bond fully and resolve the entire mess by getting together knowing full well that their attraction was reciprocated.

That was not what happened.

Instead, the show decided that Adrichat would finally move on from Ladybug and onto Marinette. And after a bit of back and forth, the Love Square was resolved by having the two unknowingly date their co-workers while Ladynoir cooled to platonic.

This was certainly a choice.

It also rendered any reveal entirely moot in regards to romance. Adrienette is canon, what does them finding out they're co-workers achieve?

-

True understanding/personal development

The core of the Love Square was that neither Marinette or Adrien could see the other's alter-egos within them. Or at least, Marinette outright found it laughable that Chat Noir could be Adrien.

Adrien meanwhile outright called Marinette the "everyday Ladybug" and was unsurprised to put the pieces together himself in Chat Blanc.

But the point of the matter is: in theory the secret identities are barriers to a full bond between the two (alleged) protagonists. That by overcoming them, they could fully "be themselves" with another person.

A Marinette with full confidence and self-assurance, but who also didn't need to be the heroine and could be sad and share her burdens. An Adrien who was allowed to be expressive, silly or imperfect himself without being reprimanded.

This is not what happened.

At least not for Adrien.

Marinette has achieved that goal, with Alya. She has a friend who cares for her with whom she can be completely honest with and who she can share her emotional burdens. Chat Noir meanwhile has steadily learnt to restrain himself as Chat Noir and if anything, grown more compliant and less self-deterministic as Adrien.

Moreover the two have gone from partners, to superior and subordinate. A strict hierarchy where all power, information and authority exists in the hands of one person, and the other person has none whatsoever beyond leaving the ring behind. And it has to be said: Ladybug does not have some special fondness or trust in Chat Noir that would enhance their relationship as Marinette and Adrien.

Nor is there any exceptional trust that Marinette has in Adrien that would enhance their relationship as Ladybug and Chat Noir, indeed the opposite might be true, given just how much she is hiding from him already despite it being critical to his very existence (eg: the whole Sentimonster business). Most likely any reveal between the two at this point would just introduce that power dynamic and secrecy into their personal lives, and likely extinguish what independence Adrichat still possesses.

Because all the reveal would do now is give Marinette even more leverage over Adrien as his superior. Marinette would continue to hide her full self from Adrien, and Adrien having already learnt to ignore and suppress his own feelings for Ladybug's sake would do so constantly for Marinette (if he didn't already, I see precious little of Chat Noir in the Adrien of S5 compared to S1).

-

Exclusivity/Trust

The third is the most extensive to cover, the most important secret either Adrichat or Maribug have are their identities. Thus either letting another know it willingly is (supposedly) the highest sign of trust. The less people who know that secret, the more valuable the act of the reveal is as it creates an incredible vulnerability that did not exist before and proves that the revealer trusts the revealee more than almost anyone else.

It was seemingly inevitable that if Marinette were to willingly reveal to anyone, she'd first choose Chat Noir. He was the one who she supposedly had that unique bond with, and vice versa. It was even a fandom staple back if you search back far enough.

Now of course, that staple is more dated than The Dab.

Marinette's identity now seemingly free space for anyone but Chat Noir. She first willingly spilled the beans to Alya, despite Alya having been Akumatised multiple times before over what are relatively minor affairs (I sure hope she doesn't get caught canoodling with Nino again!) and her being a known target for Shadowmoth thanks to her own identity being known to him. From there on, through either her own choice, accident or observation Ladybug's identity has spread to at least half a dozen other people including Gabriel Agreste and possibly Lila.

But not Chat Noir.

This is important, because that bar of trust and exclusivity has been continuously lowered, to the point where Marinette seemingly has no problem with Felix "Genocide" Fathom being the in the club of people who know her on both sides of the mask- even if he and Kagami have no business doing so. But her supposed partner? He's not even considered.

There are some arguments as to why... but they don't stand up scrutiny:

"It's because of Chat Blanc! Marinette is traumatised over Chat Noir knowing her name!"

That would make sense, alas: it's also fandom staple. Not part of canon itself.

References to Chat Blanc are few and far between, and Maribug has had precisely one sign of any possible trauma from the event and it was as part of a nightmare induced by revealing her identity to Alya. There's nothing in the show that demonstrates that she has any lasting harm from Chat Blanc, or that it's the cause of her actions.

"Chat has the Black Cat Miraculous, they can't know each other's identity because their Miraculous have to stay safe!"

This would be reasonable.

Up until the moment Marinette spilled the beans to Alya. At that point her security had been breached so severely that there is no longer any value in maintaining her secret from Chat Noir. You cannot say the multi-time Akuma victim who Hawkmoth knows was a Miraculous wielder is a better secret-keeper than Chat Noir, even if she broke from Akumatization from a few hours ago: she also got Akumatized a few hours ago.

The only valid part of this argument is that Chat Noir maintaining his secret to Marinette would still be required.

"Chat Noir gets mind controlled every Tuesday, his mind will be an open book!"

No. No it will not.

It's true that Chat Noir is mind-control themed. However- unless I've missed an incident- for all those many times he's been brought under someone else's power he's never given up his Miraculous or identity barring direct use of his Amok. Unless Ladybug has somehow discovered Adrichat's identity, there's no reason to expect that he'll spill the beans- and certainly no more than Alya.

Then there's the final nail in the coffin:

As of "Ephemeral": we know perfectly well that if Marinette knows Chat Noir is Adrien, she'll quickly decide to throw caution to the wind anyway. So by evidence alone, it's not a matter of security or trauma, it's a matter of favoritism.

By evidence: Chat Noir is not one of those favourites. Forget the actualization of a special bond, he's less trustworthy than Felix.

-

What is the value of the reveal at this point?

Adrien and Marinette are together. The barriers are gone, but there's no special exclusivity to this shared experience anymore: there's an entire team of others after all and Rena's the one Ladybug shares her feelings and secrets with while Chat Noir barely knows anything. The "Ladynoir partnership" has cooled to a platonic working relationship where all the trust and authority goes one way, so there's not exactly some great romantic addition to be made to the Adrienette relationship.

Exactly what difference does it make to their relationship if they know each other's identity? What would actually change beyond them not having to make awkward excuses about where they're hiding for any given Akuma battle?

Because unless there's going to be some kind of Ladynoir conflict in the next season to provide a new, negative potential impact to the reveal:

The once brimming potential of The Reveal has been completely wasted.

[utilitycaster]

You mentioned it briefly a few months ago (but it lives rent free in my head sorry!) that the most popular ship from this campaign has almost only AU fanfics and it's really telling me something about the characters from c3, that there is just really nothing to explore about them.

So here's the thing. I do not think the characters aren't worth exploring! There's been good character work (a lot of which gets ignored, actually, because it's not what many of the people who insist that C3 is their favorite as they slowly turn into a corncob want*; see basically anyone on Twitter about Orym), it's just not central to the plot.

I stand by what I originally said and which was validated at a recent Q&A panel: the cast wasn't told that this was going to be the Moon Plot Campaign (they were just told pulpier and deadlier) and Laura wasn't told that Imogen would be as central a character as she was. So I think we have characters who could have, for the most part, had a character-driven campaign around them, but it became clear relatively early on that this was the Moon Plot campaign and that wouldn't be the focus; and because to get all of his ducks in a row for the Moon Plot Matt had to take a heavier hand with the rails and as a result the party didn't have a ton of bonding time early on because they were always taking NPC missions/being ferried around in an airship with no need for watch conversations, and it's hard to go back and fill in those interactions later, which is why they've sort of fallen out of the habit.

With respect to the ship...the thing is, I genuinely believe it could have been good. The reason I'm not a fan of imo/dna isn't because I think the characters aren't good (well, my feelings on Laudna are documented but I do think Imogen is a great character). It's because, ironically enough, every barrier between them did get removed all too quickly in the service of Cottage Endgame and as a result I think many of the people who wanted that are like "wait...that's it?" Like, the gnarlrock fight fizzled out only for the same conflict to come up briefly with Ishta (swordgate) 70 episodes later and be resolved a day later in-game. When they reunited I was like you know what would have made this good? If Laudna had remained angry in episode 65 and turned Imogen down which Laura 100% expected to happen, because they hadn't talked about this and they were awkwardly trying to deal with unresolved feelings for 30+ episodes and perhaps Laudna actually leaned into Delilah wholeheartedly during that time and realized she had feelings for Imogen after all, while Imogen was simultaneously struggling with that rejection and realizing Laudna was going into a dark place but didn't feel like she could get involved, and they both leaned more (platonically) on other characters and Swordgate was the point where Laudna said "oh no, I'm becoming too much of a problem and I do want Imogen to like me" and the soul anchor felt like a culmination of a deeply felt struggle instead of a quick fix for something that had only inconvenienced her a few times and led to a 20 hour long minor spat at best? If we actually got a fucking slowburn? It would have been great! Turns out if you always go for the instant gratification, it makes for a story without any tension! And now we're watching people who were always clamoring for skipping to the good part realizing that in doing so we skipped all the buildup that makes it the good part. There could have been something to explore. It was not explored.

*I think that there are people who for whatever reason do legitimately prefer Campaign 3 for whatever reasons and are in earnest and this isn't about them. While I don't share their tastes I support them and their feelings; we all have our preferences. This is about the people who are already visibly setting up the groundwork for a dramatic rage quit that will make copious, wildly incorrect use of the term "neoliberal" if the campaign ends with the gods still in place while still insisting this is definitely the best campaign and making absolutely brainless statements about prior campaigns not being as political even though this is the least politically inclined or aware group by a country mile. I think the lesson from the above and from here is that you really cannot have your cake and eat it too.

[canary3d-obsessed]

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed, Episode 40 part one

(Masterpost) (Pinboard)  (whole thing on AO3)

Warning! Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

Agree to Disagree

The juniors are arguing because Sizhui said that some demonic cultivators might have good intentions. According to Jin Ling that means that Sizhui is celebrating the murders of Jin Ling's parents, or something.

(Actor) Peixin Qi uses forehead-squinching as a primary acting tool, which would be perfectly fine if he wasn't playing a character with a red dot between his eyebrows.

He goes on to say that Wei Wuxian is the evillest of them all, way eviller than Xue Yang. Which in sheer numbers of victims, is probably a fair point. But Xue Yang was way more of a dick.

Ouyang Zichen is all of us when he asks Jin Ling to chill the fuck out.

Sizhui apologizes even though Jingyi is ready to throw down on his behalf. It's unclear if this helps, because Hanguang-Jun chooses this moment to arrive. He immediately defuses the situation with the power of stinkeye.

(more after the cut!)

More Than Meets the Eye

Many differences between CQL and the novel are adaptational choices - Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji's deep, early friendship; the yin iron plot, Jiang Cheng being loveable, etc. Changes like that, I normally don't point out, because adaptations are AUs, in my view, and can be enjoyed separately from their sources.

Other changes are driven by censorship, however, and in those cases I think it's fair to look to the novel and its less-censored adaptations for a peek at what's happening off camera. Particularly when there are scenes and interactions in The Untamed where the show seems to be deliberately pointing to the novel to fill in the blanks.

This moment on the stairs is one such scene. In the show, Lan Wangji carries liquor upstairs to Wei Wuxian, and the juniors react with shock; Jingyi drops his chicken out of his mouth and Sizhui stuffs it back in there.

They are shocked because he bought liquor, and that's the extent of their reaction.

In the Donghua, Manhua, and Novel, Lan Wangji is dragging Wei Wuxian up those stairs, having drunkenly tied him up with his headband.

First he stops to show his prize to the juniors, who have basically the same reaction in every version of the story, including Jinygi dropping his chicken and Sizhui stuffing it back in his mouth. In the novel, however, Sizhui does that to stop Jingyi from saying anything to Lan Wangji & his captive.

The liquor, in all versions, is a clear sign of how much Lan Wangji has mellowed since his youth. In case we need another reminder, we learn here that he let Sizhui get a tattoo on his finger.

Every parent will tell you, you gotta pick your battles.

Returning to to the timeline in which no visible bondage is occurring, Wei Wuxian is sitting around in the room upstairs waiting for Lan Wangji. Wasn't he busy talking to Lan Xichen when Lan Wangji went into the inn to shut the kids up? How did he get upstairs before Lan Wangji? Never mind, never mind.

Wei Wuxian goes to look out the window and Wen Ning appears, hanging off the roof like a dork, or like someone who has seen that one Spider-Man movie and is hoping for some upside-down kissing.

Wen Ning asks if Jin Ling is the kid he halfway orphaned, and Wei Wuxian says yes.

Then he hears Lan Wangji coming, and Wen Ning falls to the ground for no reason.

Wei Wuxian urgently shoos Wen Ning away, trying to hide him from Lan Wangji.

Wen Ning acts way too clueless for someone who spends so much time third-wheeling.

There's no in-world reason for Wei Wuxian to hide Wen Ning; They fought side-by side in Yi City, and they were all together for A-Qing's burial. There's not a problem between him and Lan Wangji.

Once again, the novel provides the missing information. Wei Wuxian is hiding Wen Ning because Lan Wangji is hella jealous even when he's sober. Wen Ning fell to the ground because drunk Lan Wangji leapt through the window and kicked him.

In the novel, Wei Wuxian & Lan Wangji's evening ends with a game of tag that's loaded with sexual tension, followed by a kiss...followed by Lan Wangji literally knocking himself out to avoid taking advantage of Wei Wuxian.

Lan Wangji does everything in the most extreme way possible.

In the live action, the most sexually charged part of their interaction is this positively sinful hip thrust that Wei Wuxian gives when he turns around at the window.

If you've seen Xiao Zhan dancing, you know this is not an accident.

Unlike the novel's perpetually clueless protagonist, live-action Wei Wuxian clearly knows he's on a date right now.

...and he's enjoying every minute of it. He's delighted that Lan Wangji has provided *good* liquor, rather than the rotgut he's able to afford himself.

As he pours for Wei Wuxian, Lan Wangji points out that both of their brothers know who WWX is at this point. Wei Wuxian isn't happy about it but he says they can't do anything. Which is...not correct.

He tries once again to get Lan Wangji to tell him how he recognized him, and Lan Wangji responds by asking him why his memory sucks so much.

Wei Wuxian says "you try dying by falling from a great height TWICE and see how your brain likes it." That's what he should have said, anyway.

This whole thing about his memory isn't actually important in the live action, even though it keeps being mentioned. He's forgotten the name of their song because he was delirious when he heard it; otherwise his memory seems perfectly fine.

I think this might be another instance of the live action giving a wink to novel readers in the audience, because in the novel Wei Wuxian forgot Lan Wangji's confession of love. Which, like WangXian, was presented in a cave while WWX was delirious; Lan Wangji is not great at choosing his moment.

Anyway, this may be why Lan Wangji seems to take Wei Wuxian's memory problems personally, despite having very little in-show reason to be upset.

Lan Wangji changes the subject by asking Wei Wuxian to go to Jinlintai with him, to search for Nie Mingjue's head. Sounds like a perfect romantic getaway for a boy and his favorite necromancer.

Just as Wei Wuxian starts to ask what Zewu-Jun will think, Zewu-Jun and his cheekbones come into the room.

He's taken time to think things over--a concept the rest of the cultivation world could stand to learn about, incidentally--and he agrees that they should investigate.

Note: the non-CQL illustrations come from the MDZS manhua, which is complete online (mangadex.org includes the uncensored extra bits), and is about halfway through being published in English by Seven Seas. It's delightful and I highly recommend it.

Bonus: Lan Wangji and Sizhui enjoying some tie-in cup noodles. (A few in-character ads are included in the Viki version of the show.)

[mallas28]

Why Mechanical suit makes no sense in MHA ending? I will try to explain.

Many in fandom can't get over messed up ending of MHA. I got messages from people who are upset. And i can get their feeling. In this post i will try to explain why Mechanical suit given by All Might in the end doesn't make sense at all. Lets get started.

1. Ruined message of all manga. During all manga narration show us that hero could be everybody and id doesn't matter what quirk you have or your status. All you need is ure hard and hardworking. 430 chapter totally ruined that. Telling us that unless you have strong quirk or millionare friends you will be a loser with no friends and job where you unhappy (remember how in 430 chapter Izuku still have sad face and look unhappy). More interesting is that Izuku doesn't do anything to be a hero without a quirk ( Hello spinoff with a better plot). He just walks with sad face with no friends no goal in life. Until SUDDENLY All Might appears and give him a suit out of nowhere. Do you get what i am trying to say? OFA Izuku earned and it was shown in manga. Mechanical suit Izuku doesn't earn at all. He doesn't even try to be a hero without quirk.

Also, Izuku looks like a big hypocrite to that boy Dai(i forgot his name). He just tells Dai he can be a hero with a weak quirk in order to get a millionare suit, immediately abandon his job neing teacher and join his friends....Wow. Izuku...you hate your job so much? Dai, sweetie, i am sorry for all that. You could be a hero, if Horikoshi has a better writing skills or better and strong editor.

2. Horikoshi makes all looks like his favorite comics DC and Marvel and doesn't aknowledge the writing background.

So many people see that Izuku become new Iron man of MHA. Horikoshi several times stated that he loves Marvel Spiderman and Tony Stark. He wants to make MHA just like Marvel and DC and thats the major problem. He doesn't want to analyze writing background his favorite characters has in Marvel. He just copied and added without questions.

The same thing with Mechanical suit. Horikoshi just thinks that it would be a good thing to make Izuku new Tony Stark. Now let me explain why it doesn't work. What writing background Tony Stark has

1. Tony Stark is a billionaire with high Intelligence. No Fairy GodMother appear out of nowhere and give him suit. Tony Stark literally make his first suit out of trash by his own hands!!!! He literally make himself a hero by using his brain. It works in narrative.

Izuku on the other hand as i mentioned above, just has a Fairly Godmother aka All Might who give him suit.

2. Tony Stark has a several breaking points. I saw in fandom that many people were craving for Izuku has a breakdown moment. Izuku doesn't have that. He just walks with sad face, pretending to be happy. But nothing....

Tony Stark was fighting with alcoholism!!! Because of stress being Iron Man and his inner demons!!

3. Most Important detail. Mechanical suit given by Izuku was inventing by 8 f%%$ years! One suit!!! Do you see a problem here?

Lets imagine that Izuku faces villain who can control technology. What could he do in that moment? Or lets imagine that Izuku faces villain like AFO (with strong quirk i mean) and his suit is crushed. What he is gonna do next? Walking with gloomy face again waiting for another 8 years for All Might to appear? Do you see problem? Mechanical suit doesn't make sense. Even All Might example proves that..because his Mechanical suit handle 1 fight!!! 1 fight Carl. And was total crushed!!!

Add to this Izukus self-destructive behavior and you will understand that this Mechanical suit will have a very short life. These billions dollars could be given to poor ill children instead it would be more heroic than this

Tony Stark on the other hand has 100500 suit that were crashed!!! Yes! Tony Stark has several versions of suits. Many were crushed! But as i mentioned before Tony Stark is highly intelligent character by himself he is independent and him wearing suit is a logical thing. Unlike Izuku...

To summarize, i am very disappointed by ending and by Izuku getting that damn suit. Horikoshi is a terrible writer. But smth tells me that he planned totally different ending but Jump forbidded and he was forced to make a different ending. Because 430 chapter so wrong written, whith ZERO edition, with no sense at all. That i feel it was written in one week literally or one day. But original ending was thrown out of windows. Thank to Jump.

[ladyluscinia]

Honestly I kind of like that there's no guards for Blood & Cheese.

Like, yeah, it does kind of push belief for drama, but frankly there's so much happening in this episode and I imagine they have a lot of events they want to get to this season. There's a lot of moving parts and various character arcs that need to get into place before anything. At some point plot explanation and building tension becomes a trade-off with how far you can take story arcs in a certain amount of time. We can revisit if this was "rushed" once we see how they've used the rest of their season. It's a bit silly to do it now, though.

Well. Anyway - I like that there aren't guards. I like that you can probably read a lot of not-unreasonable implications into there not being guards.

Larys just finished a purge of the castle to ensure everyone inside is unquestionably pro-Green. Now he's talking about servants, but the twin at Dragonstone points out that every single member of the Kingsguard swore to protect the whole royal family and they are all going through some degree of the "what do you do when the royals start killing each other?" conundrum. How many have deserted Aegon? How many did they kill recently for objecting to the usurping? How short-staffed are they really?

The guards we do see are Aegon's (and their eyes pass over the ratcatchers with no acknowledgement, like you would expect from the highborn sons they are). Guards who would likely fan out through the royal wing for the night once the newly installed king - the biggest target, the most important charge - goes to bed, but he's not doing that now is he? No, Aegon is downstairs with his robust guard getting drunk on the iron throne in the wee hours of the night with his new mandatory status-friends.

Aemond has wandered off - perhaps up to the battlements? The battlements where a bunch of guards must stand ready every hour in case a dragon arrives to escalate the war he's made inevitable. The war he's straining at his leash to go start properly, same as Daemon. The assassins are here for him, they show up in his room, but he won't be the one who meets them.

Criston Cole, who should maybe be on duty somewhere and certainly is a driving force behind deployment priorities, is off having an affair in an abandoned royal room. He's been just as keen on the war as every other man in this keep - egging on Alicent and her children's hostility for years, killing Beesbury - and earlier that night he was with Aemond also looking forward to more violence. Where the guards are isn't an oversight on his part, or a dereliction of duty - it's a reflection of what the Greens have been focusing on. The fact that neither he nor Alicent clock a reduced presence in the royal wing as a problem vs a convenience for illicit sex plans is just a bonus.

Of course no one is protecting Helaena or her children from being casualties. She's been begging them to do so since she was a little girl and they still just ignore her.

Of course there's no guards.

[thesweetnessofspring]

Why do you think so many people ship Gale and Madge?

AHHHHH I am so excited you asked me this!! Forgive me but now I get to nerd out about writing!!

Ok, to understand exactly what I'm going to be talking about, I highly recommend this video about good romantic plots (it's about 20 minutes long). The video essayist uses Beauty and the Beast 1991 in comparison to the 2017 remake to as an example, showing why the original works and the remake fails despite using so much of the same storyline/dialogue. But tldw; good romance is a dance, where the characters go back and forth with one another, challenging each other and then coming together before pulling away and coming together again.

Katniss and Gale lack the push-and-pull that gets talked about in this video. Gale pushes, Katniss pushes back, and they end up further away from each other than before. It's this way through the trilogy until they're irreparably separated. Take this part of their first scene together (I'm taking just the dialogue for brevity):

"We could do it, you know," Gale says quietly. "What?" I ask. "Leave the district. Run off. Live in the woods. You and I, we could make it," says Gale. "If we didn't have so many kids," he adds quickly. "I never want to have kids," I say. "I might, if I didn't live here," says Gale. "But you do," I say, irritated. "Forget it," he snaps back.

Here, Gale makes a proposal: what if we ran away to the woods? Katniss is quiet, he feels her drifting away so he tries to correct it and brings up how difficult it would be with their families. This prompts Katniss to make a definitive statement about not wanting kids, which pushes Gale away since it interferes with his desire to partner with her. Gale offers his perspective as another little push, that he would want kids, and Katniss pushes him back again by reminding him he does live in Panem with the Games and he's irritated and pushes her away. Occasionally one of them might pull the other toward them (Gale's whipping and Katniss's prep teams, for example) but that's not enough to make up for all of the times they're pushing away from each other.

We only get one scene of Gale and Madge together, but there's more of that push-and-pull dance here:

"Pretty dress," says Gale. Madge shoots him a look, trying to see if it's a genuine compliment or if he's just being ironic. It is a pretty dress, but she would never be wearing it ordinarily. She presses her lips together and then smiles. "Well, if I end up going to the Capitol, I want to look nice, don't I?" Now it's Gale's turn to be confused. Does she mean it? Or is she just messing with him? I'm guessing the second. "You won't be going to the Capitol," says Gale coolly. His eyes land on a small, circular pin that adorns her dress. Real gold. Beautifully crafted. It could keep a family in bread for months. "What can you have? Five entries? I had six when I was just twelve years old." "That's not her fault," I say. "No, it's no one's fault. Just the way it is," says Gale. Madge's face has become closed off. She puts the money for the berries in my hand. "Good luck, Katniss."

We have Gale starting off with the first push. Rather than pushing back by snapping at him, she pulls him in with a challenge: looking nice when everyone (including potential sponsors) is important, so if it's a dig at her, she counter him. And Katniss notes Gale is confused. Madge has thrown him off! He engages in the dance by pushing again, noting how unlikely it is that she'll go to the Capitol. This has shut Madge down as Katniss notes, but this is their first interaction we see in the story, so it's only the starting point. It would be a good opportunity for Madge to get to pull him back in, especially after Prim was reaped with only one entry. We do see from this exchange that Madge can do the pull of the romantic dance with Gale while Katniss doesn't.

Adding in that Madge becoming interested in the woods and shooting after Katniss returns from the Games and then her going to give morphling to Gale after his whipping are the other hints that maybe Madge has feelings for Gale.

Gadge wouldn't happen in canon because it doesn't serve the theme of the just war theory, or Katniss's story. Gale had to maintain his romantic pursuit of Katniss as part of Katniss navigating her feelings about how to engage in war. Madge had to die to show that even a mayor and his family weren't safe from the government that they'd received some benefit from.

But in fanfiction? Their dynamic is RIFE with this potential for the romantic dance. Gale is never really able to engage in the humanity of those who had an advantage from him. Philosophically, he can see it's the Capitol pitting them against each other, but he resents Madge that she didn't have to put additional entries in the reaping ball. He doesn't appear to form bonds with anyone who has been given advantages by the Capitol, and he even grows more distant from Katniss as she can start affording nice clothes and more food (though obviously Peeta is part of this resentment, too). Gale never really understands why Katniss cares about her prep team, even though he tries to engage with them as a peace offering to her.

Pairing him with Madge makes him have to confront this and grow. If Gadge were to form a relationship, Gale would have to really put aside that resentment that holds him back. He would have to see Madge as a whole, not just the advantages she'd been given. And from the pin she gives Katniss to her family backstory to the morphling, you get the sense that Madge wants to rebel. Gale would make her confront the privilege she does have in this system and fight to change it. She would move from subtle acts of rebellion to fully participating in the fight. And seeing this play out with them challenging one another's viewpoints, sharing their life experiences, coming together to work as a team, has potential for really great character growth and exploration for both of them.

[twistedtummies2]

Top 6 Epic Mickey Characters

Today is the release of the new “Rebrushed” Edition of a game I loved a ton growing up: “Epic Mickey.” I was OBSESSED with this game when it came out way back in 2010, and at the time it came out, it was treated as a big deal! There was a ton of merchandising and advertisement for this title, more so than you would get for most Disney games, and it’s not hard to see why: the game promised to provide a different kind of adventure for Mickey Mouse, with a darker tone and a focus on more obscure Disney characters and old cartoons. Nowadays, in hindsight, I feel the game could have gone even further than it did (and, apparently, the creators WANTED it to go further than it did, but either due to budget constraints, corporate meddling, or a bit of both, they couldn’t), but I still have a huge soft spot for it. It’s probably my favorite thing to feature Mickey Mouse as a heroic character, and it still has a notable cult following. Ironically for a game that focused on the obscure and the forgotten, the game itself sort of faded into obscurity for a while; despite the release of two sequels (namely a console follow-up called “Power of Two,” and a portable spin-off called “Power of Illusion”), the franchise sort of fizzled out pretty quickly, and for a long time it was seen as naught but an unusual footnote in the history of Disney and its presence in gaming. To celebrate the return of this game to store shelves (and, I believe, online distribution), I decided to do a quick rundown of my Top 6 characters from the games. Why Top 6, you may ask? Simple: because after six, it all gets kerbobbled. It’s harder for me to choose and rank characters beyond that point, simply because who I favor among them changes depending on my mood and how recently I’ve revisited portions of the game. My Top 6, however, have consistently been my Top 6 - both in terms of choices and ranking - pretty much from day one, and I don’t think will ever change, so they’re the ones I feel most comfortable discussing. Also, I’m going to attempt to avoid spoilers with this list, so I’m going to keep focused as much as possible on the first game, with less emphasis on the sequels. (Fortunately, all six characters appear in the first game, though some of the Honorable Mentions are from later titles.) I'll also try to avoid giving away too many of the twists in the plot, for those who will be playing Epic Mickey for the first time via this Rebrushed Edition. With that said, let’s dive into the Wasteland! These are My Top 6 Favorite Characters from Epic Mickey!

6. Pete.

What many people may not realize about Mickey’s famed arch-enemy is that Pete is actually the single longest-lasting recurring Disney character in history. Pete doesn’t just predate Mickey himself, he even predates Oswald the Lucky Rabbit: the character first showed up as a recurring villain in the silent animation/live-action hybrid “Alice Comedies,” with his first appearance dating back to 1925. That’s a whole three years before Mickey, and two years before Oswald! It’s therefore not entirely surprising to see Pete in the Wasteland, especially since the character has had so many different guises and roles throughout his long history…a fact that Epic Mickey takes humorous advantage of. You see, there isn’t just ONE Pete in the Epic Mickey universe. Oh, no. There are no less than FOUR. “Pete Prime” (the one picture here) is Big Bad Pete, who appears to be the town sheriff of Mean Street. Next there’s Small Pete, who lives in the Gremlin Village and is comically dressed up like a little Dutch girl doll. Then there’s Petetronic, who is basically what you’d get if Pete cosplayed as Commander Sark and is the head of Tomorrow City. Finally, there’s Pete Pan: a parody of Peter Pan who flies around Ventureland, mostly spending his time annoying the Wasteland’s version of Captain Hook. Interestingly, most of these Petes seem to be relatively nice characters, rather than real menaces to toon society…but be careful: a character with such a long and checkered past may not always be trustworthy.

5. Gremlin Gus.

Of all the characters left stranded and forgotten in the Wasteland, the Gremlins are easily the most obscure of the bunch. The characters were conceived in the mind of Roald Dahl - the author best known for his works of children’s literature, such as “The BFG” and “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.” Dahl wrote a story simply called “The Gremlins” that was going to be transformed into a Disney movie…but for various reasons, the film never came to pass. The book itself has fallen into utter obscurity, and the scrapped project is largely unknown by even the most ardent Disney fans: I, myself, only knew of the Gremlins prior to Epic Mickey because of a paper ad for a re-release of the book in the early 2000s. In “Epic Mickey,” however, the Gremlins are a major part of the universe: since the movie was never really a thing, and the book is so little-known nowadays, the creators of the game were able to create their own twist on the Gremlins unique to this world. They are essentially the custodians of the Wasteland, performing a variety of jobs and services to keep the place ship-shape. The most prominent of them all is their leader, Gus. Gremlin Gus is a sort of “Papa Smurf” figure for the Gremlins, and acts as Mickey’s guide through the games, providing bits of advice and various hints along the rodent’s journey. Think of him along the lines of the Cheshire Cat from the American McGee’s Alice games, or one of Link’s many companions (such as Navi, Midna, or Fi) from The Legend of Zelda. In the first game, the vocal effects for Gremlin Gus were provided by veteran voice actor Bob Joles. In “Power of Two,” Gus was given a proper speaking voice, provided by none other than the Dread Pirate Roberts himself, Cary Elwes…and I can’t help but think such casting is why they perhaps gave Gus a few TOO MANY lines in the sequel, buuut that’s another story for another time.

4. Mickey Mouse.

I debated whether or not to give Mickey a place in the ranks of his own, for various reasons, but after some deliberation…yeah. I think he’s earned it in this case. As I said in the preamble, this is probably my favorite thing made to feature Mickey himself, and Mickey is part of that. This is one of those rare occasions where the premise of the story largely results from Mickey’s own actions and inactions, rather than the machinations of some other scoundrel: it is due to Mickey’s own foolery that the Phantom Blot and the Thinner Disaster are created. It is due to Mickey’s popularity that Oswald and several other characters in the Wasteland are forgotten to begin with. Now, Mickey has to essentially remember and salvage the very things that are in ruin because of him. The game plays around with this idea of saving and destroying through its chief mechanic: the magic paintbrush Mickey uses can destroy things by shooting streams of hyper-acidic thinner, or create through use of an enchanted paint. Different obstacles can be overcome by different uses of the two tools, and some can be dealt with in multiple ways: choice is a key factor of Mickey’s story, as well as the player. Originally, the game makers wanted to go even further with this idea, with the player’s decisions making Mickey more good or more evil throughout the story, but while the final result may be toned down from their initial schemes, I think it still works brilliantly. Mickey is still the fun-loving hero we all recognize, but there’s that little bit of mischief and extra depth to the character present because of this idea of choice and the way he’s depicted. The sequels continued these ideas, with choice remaining a major part of the story in “Power of Two” once more, and paint and thinner still being equally useful in “Power of Illusion.” Bottom line: move over, Kingdom Hearts. THIS is how you make Disney’s most recognizable rodent into an action-ready gaming star.

3. The Phantom Blot.

This character is the main antagonist of the original Epic Mickey, and has been referred to by multiple names: Shadow Blot, Storm Blot, King Blot, or simply “The Blot.” Whatever you call this character, I’ll always refer to him as “The Phantom Blot,” since that is who the character basically is meant to be. In Disney comics and cartoons, the Blot has been an enemy of Mickey Mouse for many years - dating back to the 1940s, in fact. Typically, he’s depicted as a campy supervillain; a costumed criminal mastermind garbed in an inky cloak and cowl. However, in “Epic Mickey,” the Blot is reimagined as something far more monstrous: a creature made of ink, accidentally formed by Mickey when he meddled with some magic in Yen Sid’s workshop, the Blot is the cause of all the misery going on in the Wasteland. This Blot eventually turns out to be bigger than a castle, and able to send out swarms of “bloticles” to literally drain the life from the Wasteland. The Blot is intelligent, but not complex: he has no purpose other than to destroy, and longs to take Mickey’s heart, since only toons with hearts can leave the Wasteland. With that power, he can venture forth and continue to devour other worlds of their energy and life. I had heard of the Phantom Blot before Epic Mickey, but I really didn’t know much about the character: this radical reinvention, for a kid, was quite the introduction. And while I’ve since looked into the ACTUAL Phantom Blot and found great joy in his exploits, I still enjoy this reimagining. In my opinion, the Blot is one of the best video game villains of all time; more a force of cruel nature than anything else, he is a terrifying beast few players will ever forget.

2. The Mad Doctor.

So, here’s something interesting to note: out of all the “forgotten” characters featured in Epic Mickey, I actually knew almost all of them when the game came out. Some of them I knew pretty well, others I didn’t but I had at least heard of before the game’s release. The one exception to this rule was this guy: the Mad Doctor. The Doc was the titular antagonist of the Mickey Mouse cartoon “The Mad Doctor” from 1933 - one of the few Disney cartoons that’s actually managed to fall into the public domain. Many consider it to be one of the darkest Mickey cartoons ever made, and in “Epic Mickey,” the infamous mad scientist has not mellowed much with age. It’s explained that the Mad Doctor, when he first came to the Wasteland, was seemingly a friendly figure, and became an ally to Oswald. He was considered one of Oswald’s best friends, in fact. However, it’s ultimately revealed that the Mad Doctor was always just as wicked as he was in the cartoon; biding his time till he could make a grab for power. When the Blot came to the Wasteland, in the wake of the Thinner Disaster, the Mad Doctor turned on the good people of the kingdom, creating an army of cartoon cyborgs called “Beetleworx” (part toon, part machine) to help conquer everything. There’s a lot more I could say about the Mad Doctor that makes him interesting - especially in regards to the sequel games and a few twists in the launch title - but since I’m trying to avoid spoilers, I think it’s best I save a lot of that for another time. Suffice it to say, this was a great introduction to a great villain and a great cartoon, and I’m glad that Epic Mickey was able to give a little bit more attention to the Mad Doctor for modern audiences.

1. Oswald the Lucky Rabbit.

Oswald was the main reason I got so interested in Epic Mickey so long ago, and was, in fact, more or less the reason the game happened to begin with. One of Walt Disney’s earliest creations, Oswald - who was the inspiration for not only Mickey himself, but also Bugs Bunny of WB fame in real-life - was the world’s first major cartoon star. After copyright issues led to Walt Disney breaking away from Universal Studios, and forming his own company, Oswald rapidly declined in popularity, and eventually pretty much vanished off the face of the Earth. In the real world, when Disney bought the rights to Oswald back from Universal many years later, this immediately transitioned into using him in a big (marketable) way, which led to the idea of Epic Mickey. Warren Spector (head of the team behind the game) became interested the instant Oswald was mentioned, being a huge animation buff, and as production went on, Oswald became a richer and richer character. In early concepts of the game’s story, he was actually going to be one of the main villains of the story, but by the time the game came out, he had transformed into the secondary protagonist. In the fictional story of the games, Oswald is the ruler of the Wasteland…but unlike others who are more or less happy with their existence, Oswald’s feelings of dejection have steadily consumed him. He is portrayed as Mickey Mouse’s long-lost brother; he resents the fame and fortune Mickey got, while he was basically left to rot. He is so obsessed that he creates a place called Mickeyjunk Mountain, where he spends countless hours brooding over his failures and his lost family, surrounded by remnants of Mickey’s fame that span decades; everything from bubble gum machines to NES game cartridges. The adventure in the Wasteland gives Mickey a chance to not only connect with his past and save the world, but to reconnect with and save Oswald, too. It’s the relationship between Oswald and Mickey, beyond all else, that makes the games so powerful, and Frank Welker - who provided Oswald’s vocal effects/voice in all the games - gives probably one of my favorite performances in his entire career. And keep in mind, this is the guy who played characters like Megatron, Garfield, Mr. Mxyzptlk, Fred AND Scooby from various takes on Scooby-Doo, and more “creature voices” than you can shake a stick at. To call this among his best is saying a LOT. For both his fictional prominence and historical significance, it’s no surprise that I name Oswald the Lucky Rabbit as My Favorite Epic Mickey Character. Case closed.

HONORABLE MENTIONS INCLUDE…

The Three Little Pigs.

Horace Horsecollar.

Gremlin Prescott.

Clarabelle Cow.

Captain Hook.