#things were going so well and she’d been kinder recently

[insanechayne]

~ ~ ~

[bountyhaunter]

TIMING: Current LOCATION: Daiyu's house PARTIES: Alistair @deathsplaything, Emilio @mortemoppetere, Vic @natusvincere, Zane & Daiyu @bountyhaunter SUMMARY: A conspiracy meets to plan an ambush. CONTENT WARNINGS: N/A

She had never had this many people in her house. Scratch that: Daiyu had never had people in her house, ever. Not this one, anyway, this small cabin that she’d been able to rent through hunter connections and had been living in for about half a year. It was kind of overwhelming, if she was honest, but she never was to herself and so she didn’t pay it any mind. 

She returned to the living room with a stack of mismatched cups and a bottle of soda, placing them on the table where a few other key ingredients for a strategy meeting already resided. A package of grocery store chocolate chip cookies and a bowl of potato chips, for one, and then all the bits and bobs of paper like the blueprints and guard schedules Alistair had provided. She looked around the strange combination of people — from Emilio to Vic (who she’d just thought a very sweet suburban mom up until recently) to a guy named Zane (whoever that was) to Alistair. Brutus and Nugget were hopefully entertaining each other in corner. She’d be very sad if they didn’t get on.

“Alright,” she said, ignoring the cups and soda now that she’d placed them on the table. These people were capable of pouring themselves a drink and she wasn’t very good at hosting, anyway. To the dismay of her father — but well, that wouldn’t be the main thing that’d bother him about this ordeal. “Where were we? Us …” She gestured at Alistair and herself. “On the inside. We’ll make sure there’s not a lot of peeps on schedule.” Daiyu tucked her legs underneath herself as she got comfortable on the floor. She didn’t have enough chairs. She barely had enough forks for one person. “Whatever. Getting in’s not the issue.” She was down to brush over those details, because something else was nagging at her. Daiyu wasn’t very good at boring planning details. She pulled a messy list of captives toward her. She’d worked on that over the past week. “What do we do about the people?”

—

Tension turned his body into a coiled spring, ready to leap up at the slightest irritation. Emilio stood in the kitchen with his back against the wall, eyes darting periodically between Alistair and the woman he didn’t know with the occasional uncertain glance towards Daiyu. The only person in this room he trusted fully was the one he’d brought himself, and he was already feeling a little guilty for dragging Zane along. 

He looked to the table, to the blueprints and papers and things he probably wouldn’t understand. This level of planning was new to Emilio. Most of the time, his plans consisted of ‘go in, kill what needs killing, try not to die.’ (Except for the ones that omitted the last point — he tried not to let himself think of those for the moment.) This kind of strategizing was foreign to him. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing here. Part of him wanted to protest, wanted to point out that it wasn’t necessary for the blade to know what the hand was planning. Point him in the direction where he needed to slice, and he’d do it. Everything else seemed wasted on him. 

But… he wasn’t sure he trusted any of them, even Daiyu, enough not to know the plan. If he was going to put Zane’s stupid life on the line, he was going to make sure the plan was a decent one. He owed the vampire that, at least. Reaching into his pocket, he retrieved a flask and took a swig, ignoring the soda and snacks Daiyu had set out. This was more his style. “Case by case, I think,” he piped in, glancing at the list Daiyu had provided. “Some of them might not be the kind we want to put back into the world.” But Emilio wouldn’t leave anyone locked up. A quick death was kinder, he thought; he’d give them that. It was what he’d want for himself, when the time came. “Okay. So, we need to… look into this. Right? See why they were brought in, decide what to do with who. We don’t want to send serial killers loose on the town.”

—

It had taken a lot from Alistair to leave Tommy at the apartment to come to this meeting. The two had become dependent on each other since the loss of Melody and both of their worlds crumbled from under them. The only thing that propelled Alistair forward on this mission was that his life was on the line, and there was no way they would leave Tommy alone. They owed everything they could to make this out alive. And if that meant going against The Good Neighbors and Winnifred herself? Then so be it. Brutus had been playing with Nugget in the corner, but Alistair gave the command, and Brutus ceased his playtime and made his way over to his owner, eager to work. 

A case-by-case basis was necessary. Alistair remembered a lot of the names that went into those cages and remembered the atrocities that were committed. “Winnifred has a better-kept log that has names, dates of imprisonment, and reasoning,” Alistair spoke up, arms crossed over their chest as they stared blankly forward. “Daiyu and I could call her to the keep to discuss overcrowding,” Alistair suggested, knowing that the keep was getting seriously overcrowded. It was something they’d have to talk about eventually, whether Winnifred wanted to or not. “She’d bring her book with her and make decisions for ‘the good of the town.’ or whatever she tells herself.” 

“Listen, this mission is not going to be easy,” Alistair warned, hand gripping around the hold of Brutus’s harness. “People are going to get hurt, people are going to die. Not everyone you release will be happy to see you.” Alistair knew from experience how wily they could be. They knew they had to prepare for the worst, a spell that they’d already begun to prepare for. Alistair was going to die there, they knew they were. But they didn’t want anyone else to get killed along with them. If they could warn them of the dangers, they’d at least have done their part.

__

Vic had turned back home three times before she finally convinced herself to join this meeting.  This was why she’d joined the Good Neighbors in the first place, right?  To protect the vampires she’d suspected were being targeted and start the path toward righting the wrongs of her past.  Sure, she may have gotten a little distracted by the delicious little taste of neighborhood power joining the group had provided her (she’d made more citizen’s arrests in the last month than probably her entire time in Wicked’s Rest, but littering was down a good 10%). But after finally overhearing the truth from Alistair and Daiyu a few days ago, it felt like something substantial was finally about to happen.

As she sat straight-backed in the chair that had been offered to her, pursing her lips at the menu offered to them, a punch of guilt invaded her stomach, scolding her for even thinking of freeing monsters from their cages.  She had known for nearly 300 years that they deserved to die, and if she were in this meeting three years earlier, she would have elected to kill them all on sight.  What kind of world was she leaving for Rosie-... for humanity… if she let monsters like herself walk free?  But then her mind flipped again, to all the work she’d done to be better, to all the ‘monsters’ that had proved her wrong… Why couldn’t this have been easier?

“Why do we get to decide which of them deserves death?” Vic chirped from her corner, the first thing she’d uttered the whole meeting.  “Is that not just as reprehensible as what Winnifred is doing?  Who’s deciding morality here?”

__

Zane had rarely felt as out of place as he did here, working very hard to piece together the bits of information Emilio had provided with the people in the room and the words they were exchanging. It probably didn’t help that he’d chosen to stand, wanting to fade into the background with his ill-defined role here but realizing it probably made him look like Emilio’s bodyguard or something equally silly. How the slayer would have seethed at that notion. Moving to sit now seemed worse but he did uncross his arms, trying to match names and what they were to the faces in the room. 

It didn’t take long for the conversation to turn grim - who gets to live. He’d had this conversation with Emilio, about how locking up things like Zane wasn’t a viable option. Not humane, either, especially for something that would practically live forever. It still made his skin crawl but the naivety he’d possessed last year existed no more, gone up in flames when that barn did. “Someone has to do it,” he found himself speaking up, not sure how much of it was his own opinion and how much was simply support for Emilio, which seemed his only true role here. “At least this way it’s… informed.” Was he even supposed to take part in the conversation? Well, too late now. 

—

This was why she shouldn’t get caught up in affairs. Not human affairs, not supernatural affairs — none. Daiyu functioned best on her own. If she had never joined up, she would have never known about this and she would have been able to spend this night watching Buffy. But here she was. Hosting the revolution for a place that should perhaps not be overthrown, hearing people talk about what she preferred to avoid. Morals. She tended to let herself be led by the bounty board, not by what felt good.

She started stuffing a cookie into her mouth so she had an excuse not to talk (which was nonsensical, considering she talked with a full mouth all the time) and felt herself grow agitated. “Yeah, we could totally get the book off her, no doubt,” she said, “Whatever, but — even those are — you know.” Vic was making good points. All of them were. She wanted to slam her head into the table.

“Way I see it, Winnifred isn’t … she’s just a human. Trying to do what she reckons is best, but she doesn’t … she’s clueless, yeah?” She glanced at Emilio. “Cortez and I, we’re hunters. We know this shit. We’ve been raised for this. We know what’s a risk, what’s not.  What beast to take out in the woods and which to let run its course, ya know? So it’s the same as that. Just … more …” She wiped a crumb off the table. “Premeditated. Whatever. Most important is that it ends here. And yeah, for many that’s gonna mean it ends-ends.” Daiyu’s job was to figure out who in town should be targeted, hadn’t it? She knew in some cases why some of the prisoners had been put there. She’d made that judgment. None of them were innocent. (None of them at this table were either. Well, maybe Zane and Vic, she wasn’t sure.) “I’ll make sure there’s plenty of weapons around for when push comes to shove.”

—

Zane had his back, though Emilio wondered how much of what he was saying was what he really believed and how much came from his perception that he still owed Emilio for what happened in that barn a year ago now. He didn’t bring Zane along to have a yes man in his corner, didn’t want someone who would agree with everything he said. He needed Zane for the same reason he needed Teddy, or Wynne, or Xó: because sometimes, Emilio led with something that wasn’t his head. Sometimes, the past got muddled in with the present, and nothing was quite right. If he was making the wrong choice here, he needed someone to tell him that. He needed it to be someone he trusted, someone who understood him. He had to hope that Zane was speaking his mind and not saying what he thought Emilio wanted to hear. He spared the vampire a quick glance, hoping to communicate all of this in a simple look. It was a lot of pressure to put on an expression that really wasn’t much different than his usual.

He glanced to the necromancer, scoffing quietly. “I don’t think anyone here walked in that door thinking this would be easy,” he replied flatly, crossing his arms over his chest. “If it were easy, we wouldn’t need this meeting.” This was going to be rough. It was going to be hard and it was going to be dangerous and people were probably going to die. People at this table were probably going to die. Emilio felt a surge of guilt for the fact that he hadn’t shared his plan to participate in this with any of the important people in his life. If he died doing this, none of them would know until after. They’d probably be upset about that. 

He nodded as Daiyu spoke, glancing around the table. “Look, I think… These people got into this shit thinking they were doing something good.” He let his eyes go from Daiyu to the clean-cut looking woman beside her to the necromancer. Maybe all of them had gotten into the Good Neighbors with good intentions, and maybe they hadn’t. Emilio wasn’t sure it mattered. What mattered more was their intentions now. “Some of the people locked up there are bad. There’s no denying that. But some of them aren’t. Some of them are just people who have made mistakes, maybe, and they can learn from this. And the ones who can’t…” He trailed off, clenching his jaw. “I would rather die,” he said simply. “If I had to choose between being locked away for as long as these people live or dying for what I’ve done, I would rather die. It’s better. It’s faster for them. It’s safer for everyone else. It’s better. So this is what I’m doing. If someone has a problem with it, you can try to stop me, but something tells me we’re all here because we’re on the same page, yes? So we figure out who gets what, and we figure out how to give it to them. That’s what we do. Anyone who wants to leave can leave, but I’m all in.”

—

When it came to killing, Alistair was no saint. They’d done it before, they’d probably do it again. They’d done it for the sake of saving Tommy, they’d done it to save countless others. But they’d never killed someone without someone else benefitting from it. They’d never killed on a scale such as this. And that’s what they were doing, wasn’t it? All those people who couldn’t be set free were going to die. It caused Alistair to shift their weight from foot to foot, head downcast as they thought about the implications of taking more lives. They wanted no part of it anymore. Still, if it had to be done to keep people safe, then the benefits outweighed the costs in their minds. 

“There are alarms.” Alistair piped up, looking through Brutus’s eyes to point in the correct placements. “Once when the front gate is breached, once when the button on the cages is hit.” Alistair pointed to the center control panel with a frown. “If you want to set them all free, that’s where you want to go.” He tapped his finger against the paper before removing it.

Alistair pulled out a set of keys that Daiyu had. “This one opens cages.” They explained, pulling out a rather large key and laying it on the table, then pulling out a passkey. “That’ll get you in the building without detection. We’ve made sure that security is lighter that day by putting ourselves on duty.” Alistair put the pass key down on the table alongside the large ring of keys. “Daiyu and I will stick together, so we don’t need both of us to have this on us.” 

“As for who lives and who dies, we’ll deal with that when the time comes when we have that book from Winnifred. What are we going to do about her?” They implored, knowing that Winnifred would go down kicking and screaming if it came to it. “She’s a human, but she’s a human that thinks what she’s doing is justified and within reason.” 

__

Vic had known some of them were hunters before she arrived.  Of course there’d be hunters in a situation like this.  For years, hunters were probably the people she felt most comfortable with, as long as her bracelet was functioning properly.  She was practically surrounded by them, whether at her old bartending job where they frequented or her more nefarious meetings where she was trading information about vampires for cash.  But now, with everything between Rosie and her change of heart, she found herself actively avoiding them.  She felt herself toying with the cloaking bracelet as they argued.  

As Emilio spoke, Vic couldn’t deny the familiar feeling that fluttered through her stomach, the one she felt after she was presumably betrayed by her first love, and again after she was sired.  “I’m still not comfortable with us being so egotistical as to think we get to be the deciding factor, but…”  People were still important.  Humanity was still important, as much as it sucked.  There had to be a nuance between the belief that all vampires were monsters and all vampires were saints.  Her sire was no saint.  Neither was she.  She sighed before she continued.  “It seems with the time crunch, it’s our only option.”  She wasn’t happy with it, because morality in general felt so gray these days, but she couldn’t sit by and watch them all be prisoners.  Not with everything she knew now.

The group that they had gathered seemed valuable, and willing to work together, and for a moment, she doubted her place amongst them.  Would she be much help?  “There won’t be much use in us trying to get through to her”, Vic said.  She was the newest member of the group, the one who knew Winnifred the least, but she knew more than her fair share about having the wrong idea about supernaturals and using it to try to rid them of the world.  “Perhaps she needs a taste of her own medicine.  At least until we figure out what to do with the others.”

__

It would be even more difficult when the time came. This discussion was one thing, even looking over names on paper might be easy but when the time came… Zane wondered briefly if rehabilitation was an option. Where was the line? For humans, those who would eventually perish during a life sentence, there were cases of atrocities bad enough that redemption wasn’t in the cards, would never be on the cards. Was this scenario that much different? They did lack a judge and jury but if murder, especially repeat offenses, meant a life sentence, wasn’t that what they were executing in a way? At least for the ones like him, hadn’t they already used up all their allotted time and simply cheated death? The brief ethics course in nursing school hadn’t exactly prepared him for this. 

Emilio was staring him down, face unreadable as always. Did he not want him to talk? Or maybe not agree? Who knew, honestly. At least it seemed settled that not everyone would be released into the wild from their prison, the older man with the dog moving on to plans that made Zane feel eerily like this was a heist movie. The odds for an end scene showing how they pulled everything off smoothly with no casualties didn’t feel great, though. “What are we dealing with in terms of the people… running this? Are they all… human?” Zane found himself asking as they discussed the fate of the ring leader - it was hypocritical in some ways but the idea of harming humans didn’t sit well with him at all. It had been over a year but he still felt more of a kinship with them than his fellow undead. 

—

All of this went against all Daiyu had made herself know for the past years. She was a bounty hunter, plain and simple. The Good Neighbors had been a gig, a lucrative one at that — but she’d joined with that stupid notion of doing something good and it seemed she hadn’t given up on that. “We don’t touch that button, then. The one that opens everything at once. That’s disaster.” She looked at the keys, then at the would-be intruders. “Just get in with those, don’t raise any fucking alarms, and the first bit should be smooth. It’s when start opening the cages that we should be more alert.”

She took her list back. It had names, species, some transgressions on it. It wasn’t Winnifred’s color coded book, but it was something. “Let’s get through some, at fucking least. We’re here now.” She didn’t want many more of these meetings. Daiyu splayed it on the table, pointed at the name Mack Ross. “Like, I can tell you now what and how. She killed a buncha people, isn’t in control, which is …” She made a motion. “Ludacris, ‘cause it’s Mack fucking Ross. Then, Johnny no surname, he’s a vampire. You know, I think he’s alright, he loves Snicker Snackers, he could totally do an animal based diet, maybe.” She pointed to another name, “Svetlana, serial student killer. Stake.” Daiyu motioned staking a vampire, wooshing sound and all. She pointed at another name. “Chang, dunno his first name. Kept the bones of all his kills after he ate ‘em whole. Probs best to not release him into the world again.”

To speak about killing undead and shapeshifters was something she did with an eerie ease, as it was who she was brought up to be. Later that night, she’d reflect on her lackadaisical attitude with distaste, but for now it was something to hold onto. She felt something stir in her stomach at the mention of Winnifred, though, and her eyes moved to Emilio. Hunters were supposed to protect humans. Winnifred had tried to do the same, foolishly and cruelly, but she had. “We destroy the keep. We make sure they don’t make one again. And yeah, all human. Or like, human with some zest, like Al and I.” She wasn’t going to kill them. “So yeah. We destroy their means and that’s that.”

—

“Agreed,” Emilio said, nodding towards Daiyu. “Setting everyone free at once would be a bloodbath.” The more violent offenders would kill each other, the ones offended by the time they’d lost behind bars would kill anyone who got close. And that was to say nothing of the ones who might just be hungry. That wasn’t the sort of chaos any of them could afford. They needed to do it slowly. It would be risky, sure, but… less risky than setting loose a whole slew of problems. “Whose cage gets opened first, then?” The ones with the best shot of actually getting out would be the ones freed in the very beginning. But beyond that… “Any prisoners who might help us out? Without killing any of us, ideally.” His eyes darted towards Alistair and Daiyu, who’d both had some kind of a hand in the… acquisitions. 

Daiyu, at least, seemed to be on the same page. She was already pointing to her book, and Emilio felt a little uneasy at the first name she pointed out. Mack Ross. Kaden and Monty were both fond of her, weren’t they? “We should spring her early on.” He pointed to Mack’s name. “At the beginning.” He offered no explanation as to why. “Johnny no-name, too. Get the ones out who we think will need the… least amount of help staying honest. The ones we know we’re going to kill, we should get to last. That way if something happens and we can’t get to everyone…” At least they could free the ones who needed freeing before going out in a blaze of glory. He let the thought hang unfinished. Looking at the list, he pointed at another name. “That’s my client’s friend. We free her early, too.” After all, that was why he’d gotten dragged into this whole mess to begin with.

Winnifred, though… That was more complicated. He met Daiyu’s eye, then glanced to Zane. Did it matter if a human didn’t think they were doing harm, as long as harm was done? How much did good intentions matter, in a case like this? Emilio had to believe they meant something. After all the bad shit he’d done with good intentions, he wasn’t sure he was the best one to judge. “We don’t have to kill any of them.” But would he stop any of the prisoners, if they tried? He wasn’t sure. “We destroy the place,” he agreed. “How… detailed are their records? We should destroy those, too. Make it impossible for them to start up again next week or something.”

—

Staying silent as the others deliberated who lived and who died, it was like he was healing people all over again. The wellbeing and life for one, was the only way to help another. Some of the people who were locked up in those cages were less monsters than Alistair was, and they knew it. They stayed silent as they deliberated, then perked up at the name of Mack Ross. “Yes, definitely free Mack,” Alistair spoke up finally, knowing that she was a sweet girl who had already been through enough. What she did to land her in the Good Neighbor’s in the first place be damned. They, like Emilio, also offered no further comment. 

“I’m all for destroying the place.” They muttered, knowing that their opinion on matters held little sway. “Winnifred will fight for this place, it’s her baby, it’s been her sole purpose for so long,” Alistair explained, tapping a finger against their other arm as they thought. “The records are kept here,” Alistair spoke, tapping the map to a back room. “It’s got fireproofing, so you’ll need to go in there first.” Alistair frowned, realizing the problem with that. “Only Winnifred has access to that room, not even I can get in there.” 

Winnifred had good intentions, but she didn’t know what the real world was really like. She saw what she wanted to see, and turned a blind eye to all the rest that made the rosy picture anything else. They’d learned that after being close to her after all these years. “There will be after-effects of this we should think about as well. Just because the keep is gone doesn’t mean they won’t try to reform somehow. People will always find a way. The top hitters are the ones you’ll want to keep an eye on, like Winnifred if you decide to leave her in the ruins of her keep.”

__

Vic shifted in her seat, uncomfortable as the names down the list were being read.  None of them sounded familiar, even the first one that Daiyu seemed to imply would be well known, but the talk surrounding them didn’t make her any less uncomfortable.  What had kept her from the same fate as these vampires?  What if they were freshly sired, or hadn’t had a chance to learn yet?  What if an old, grumpy bitch of a vampire had betrayed her own kind and caused them on a path of destruction, somehow?  She stood up from her chair suddenly, crossing her arms over her chest.  “You don’t have to speak of this so crassly.  It’s almost as if you’ll enjoy killing them.  If that’s the case, you’re no better than them.”

She was no better than her old self, if she was allowing this to happen.  Perhaps she could find a way to rescue those they were intending to harm.  She could buy a property in the outskirts of town, far away from Rosie, and teach them to be less monstrous, somehow.  It felt wholly cruel to take someone’s second chance away.  What would these people say about her if she had found herself in the keep? Their words sounded muffled around her as she concocted it. Victoria Larsson, reformed vampire hater and only feeds from what she calls ‘ethically sourced’.  Currently brainwashing a slayer child.  Monster. Stake. 

She sat back down with a huff.  “So our moral code includes deciding that some prisoners die for their crimes, but all of the people who locked them up just get to roam free with some property damage?  Alistair is right.  They’re just going to find a way to do this again.  Maybe with more permanent consequences, as a backlash to our success.  Letting them walk without consequence would be as foolish as not doing anything at all.

__

The one with the notes, Daiyu, started moving down the list in a way that so clearly established her as a hunter. It was crass but not necessarily… wrong. There seemed to be a distinction made between pure malevolence and mistakes, a lack of control. Zane felt relief, realized that if his own transgressions were being judged, he would have stood a chance at this proposed reform. “Is it safe to assume no one’s been… feeding them?” he wondered as Emilio suggested letting the previously captive help. “Because I can… provide blood.” He didn’t offer any explanation as to how - skimming from the hospital seemed like a necessary evil in this scenario. 

—--

Daiyu felt her stomach sink as Vic chastised her, eyes blazing as she looked at her, “You don’t know shit about shit, lady,” she bit, before trying to turn to other matters. A headache was forming behind her eyes and she looked at the list before pulling it towards her again. With a pen she found somewhere on the table she added some asterisks next to names they’d discussed and X’s next to others. “This isn’t about being better or worse than ‘em, it’s about ending it. So. What the fuck do you suggest we do about the rest of the good neighbors? Should we punish ‘em all? Hang ‘em from their thumbs or something? What about you? Me? Alistair? Should we throw ourselves under the rubble to repent?” She was mostly talking to Vic now, even if she spoke to all of them. They were humans. Daiyu might not really keep to a code, but hurting humans? You didn’t do that. That was the main hunter rule. 

She tried to refocus. “The cages are split in different rooms. We can make a plan, an order of operations. I can … Alistair and I can list who seem aggressive.” Daiyu considered suggesting they just kill them all, but that was too crass, even for her. “We just light all the shit on fire. Getting a flamethrower shouldn’t be hard.” She would like to have one on hand, anyway, for totally legal reasons. 

She glanced at Zane. “Sometimes. When there’s stuff. I give them some of the … leftovers from my regular hunts sometimes. But if you’ve got proper shit, sure. Smuggling stuff in isn’t too hard.” Getting it out was what was harder. “Might be better if the vamps aren’t starved. Can you get brains too?”

—

“I don’t think trying to keep serial killers off the streets makes us shitty people,” Emilio added, nostrils flaring with brief irritation. “We’re not talking about killing the people who were tossed in cages for fucking up. We’re talking about the ones who carve people’s fucking hearts out for fun. You really want people like that running around this town?” The thing was, he understood where the Good Neighbors must have been coming from, in the beginning. Their philosophy wasn’t that far off his own. The only real difference was that Emilio killed the people he deemed worthy of his judgment, while the Good Neighbors locked theirs away. In Emilio’s opinion, killing was kinder. In the opinion of others… Well. There were different schools of thought.

He glanced to Daiyu, nodding his head. “Good idea,” he agreed. “Go in with a plan for the order, get it done as quick as possible. And destroy everything we can. Maybe they try to pick up again later,” he looked to Vic, acknowledging her concern, “but it won’t be easy. We take away their base. We show them that their plans can go wrong. We put the fear in them. If they’re smart, they go underground, try to put distance between themselves and the people they locked up. If they’re not smart…” He trailed off, letting it hang. Odds were, they wouldn’t have to kill any of the people involved with the Good Neighbors. If they didn’t disappear… someone else would take care of that part. Emilio found he didn’t have any real desire to stop that. He wondered if he ought to feel guilty.

He nodded at Zane’s question, looking at Daiyu again. Her smuggling shit in was part of what had clued him in that she might be willing to join his side of this shit. “They’re probably not well fed,” he replied, “so more blood is better. I… might know someone who can get us brains.” He grimaced, unsure he wanted to ask Monty for a favor. But if the zombie was really as into peace as he claimed, he’d probably be on board. And Emilio figured he owed it to him to let him know what was going on with Mack, anyway. He’d want someone to tell him, if it were Nora or Wynne. 

—

For a while, Alistair stayed silent, listening as people listed off what to do, about what they would do with what. For a moment, they found themselves completely detaching from the conversation, dissociating as they thought about the very real possibility of dying here. Some people were locked up who wanted them dead, they’d been too close to Winnifred for too long. They were responsible for their cellmates disappearing and never returning. If anything, Alistair was just as much a monster as those who were locked behind those cell doors. It’s something they’d been wrestling with for quite some time, but now? Now they had to finally address it. 

They couldn’t let themselves simply die, they had to continue preparing for the worst-case scenario. While everyone else planned who to set free and what to do, Alistair was making a mental checklist of what they needed to gather for a spell. “There’s no world where Winnifred wouldn’t come after us if she was allowed to walk away unscathed.” They finally spoke up after some time, still distant, still somewhere else in their mind. 

“I say we let the prisoners deal with her.” It was harsh, it was crass, but it’s what they thought. “I’m sure the prisoners will take care of Daiyu and me if we’re not careful,” Alistair added, crossing their arms over their chest. “We’ve been to the keep countless times, they know our faces.” They spoke to Daiyu, though they didn’t look over to her. “It’s something to keep in mind, that’s all.” They nervously scratched at the side of their nose, knowing that they were opening a can of worms with their words.

__

Vic felt her grip tighten around the arm of the chair, staring Daiyu in the eyes as her sharp words echoed around the room.  For her part, her expression remained stoic and still, but inside, she was seething.  “Those who wish to take down positions of power inherently have to be better.  It’s the whole goddamn point of what we’re doing.”  This was a bad idea, she should have never agreed to join this overtaking- never eavesdropped on Daiyu and Alistair in the first place.  “I suggest that we do anything other than stick our thumbs up our asses and hope for the best.”  Perhaps she should be one of the ones to be punished.  Not for crimes involving the Good Neighbors, but for all she’d done to vampires for centuries.   

But Emilio had a point.  Some of the people in the cages were bad.  That was the long and short of it.  The problem, to her, came with who got to decide what bad was.  “No”, she said quietly, and she stood up again, walking to the other side of the room in a huff.  She wasn’t used to having to work with people, or having to compromise on her beliefs to make  someone else’s plan work for someone else.  But she wasn’t naive to the fact that she was the newbie in all of this, and that everyone here thought they were doing the right thing.  No matter how ignorant some of them sounded.

She glanced at Emilio, then at Daiyu, and then at the others, feeling calmer than she had a moment ago.  “Then I think it’s worth discussing continuing to meet up after everything.  Periodically, to make sure she doesn’t try this again.”

She raised her eyebrows at Alistair’s suggestion, not hating it in the slightest.  It would be the truest justice to let those that were scorned by Winnifred be the ones to decide her fate.  Even if it were just the supposed ‘good’ ones.  She looked between the rest of the group, eager to hear their thoughts.

__

All of the arguing wasn’t exactly inspiring hope. This was a group of people clearly not accustomed to working in a team, basically a bunch of Emilios struggling to find ways to make this collaboration work. Zane wondered if he was the only one in here with actual experience of working in a team - granted, a team focused on saving lives and not… whatever this was. “We’re not gonna get far if the four of you tear each other’s heads off, first,” he muttered, finally moving from the perceived safety of his position backed against the wall. “It’s a shit situation and there’s obviously not going to be a conclusion everyone is comfortable with. So we’re all going to be uncomfortable and really morally compromised and we either deal with it or actual, good people are going to continue to rot away in cells.” It had come out a bit more… scolding than intended and he backed down again, arms once more crossing over his chest. “Up to you, I guess,” he added, withdrawn and hoping he hadn’t overstepped any boundaries as the ‘random fifth addition’. 

Maybe all of this would work. Maybe it wouldn’t. Honestly, it probably wouldn’t and something would go wrong. Zane thought about the last ‘jail break’ he’d been a part of. It had definitely gone wrong but… overall, it had been worth it. All he could hope was that this would be worth it, too. And he needed to remember to ask Emilio later where in the world he was procuring brains from.

—

It was easy to keep looking at Vic. To stare her down and take her words and consider throwing the soda bottle at her head. “Then you can fuck off if you want. There’s no better. There’s just ending it. And we are better, for ending their suffering, rather than keeping them there to rot.” Daiyu’s eyes glared darkly at Zane, another person she barely knew who was suddenly mounting a moral high horse as if there was any morality to be found here. Violence begot violence. This would ripple out. It was just another punch thrown in a never ending brawl. “Fine.”

Speaking of brawls, she’d prefer one of those rather than planning this. “M’fine with meeting up after this.” Then, to Alistair: “She can try to come after me. I wish her a ton of luck fighting her hired muscle.” Daiyu didn’t think herself above harm, but there was no way that Winnifred would win in a fight against her. “Best to keep her away from the Keep when we destroy it, if you ask me. Not alert her and all that shit. Just more trouble.” She rubbed her forehead. “And yeah, people will be pissed. I can deal. I’ve dealt with pissed off supernaturals before.” Kind of part of the job description. “Will watch your back though.” 

She wanted to beckon Nugget over and bury her face in his fur before rushing out and going for a run (where she punched trees). In stead she exhaled. “Alright. Emilio and Zane, blood and brains duty. Alistair, spells. Me? Weapons.” She glared at Vic. “Explosives?” 

—

“If the people she’s fucked over want to go after her, that’s between her and them. I’m not risking my ass to save her from shit she brought onto herself,” Emilio added, crossing his arms over his chest. He wouldn’t kill Winnifred, but he wouldn’t stop anyone she’d wronged from doing so if they chose to. After all, he’d hope that anyone who came across him on his never ending quest for vengeance would offer the same courtesy. People got what they deserved, sometimes; Emilio had no intention of standing in the way of that. “If you two want to get out before we start freeing the ones who might be a little angrier at you than others, that’s fine, too,” he added, looking to Alistair and Daiyu. The latter, he figured, would turn down the offer. The former was more likely to take it.

Zane spoke up, and Emilio was reminded why he brought him in the first place. Having someone he knew he could trust was good, but having someone he knew he could trust who could also wrangle people in a way Emilio himself was incapable of? It was a good thing. It made Zane kind of perfect for this shit. He offered the vampire a curt nod. To the rest of the group, he said, “We shouldn’t wait long. They’re likely to figure out someone’s planning something soon. We need to act before then. Catch them off guard. If everyone knows what they’re doing… I say we move in sooner than later. Good with everyone?”

—

The slayer was giving Alistair an out, an out that they very well thought about taking before frowning and shaking their head. “I’m seeing this through.” They spoke, voice harsh and determined. There was so much that they still had to get done, and now was the time to expedite everything they’d worked so hard to accomplish. They were going to do this. They were doing it for Tommy, no one else. Not even themselves.  The plan was set into motion, and there was nothing to do but go ahead with it. From helping to create the Keep and the Good Neighbors to taking it down, Alistair knew they were nothing more than a hypocrite and a traitor. But if this is what it took to keep themselves alive, then so be it. They gripped Brutus’s lead tightly, then nodded their head. “Then so be it. As soon as we’re ready to go, we go. Not a moment later.” Alistair waved a hand, and the papers in the middle of the table began to move around until they were in a neat pile. “Then next we meet, we burn it all to the ground.”

[babygirldabi]

Runaway Part 4

y’all I wrote like twenty one pages of this today, so CW: probably haven’t edited as well as i would’ve liked to, MDNI, smut, 18+ themes, semi-public sex, creampie, lots of cussing, some slapping and shoving, drinking, mentions of abuse, derogatory terms used towards women,  Dabi is an asshole, like a huge one, but he makes up for it, I think that’s it. DEFINITELY doing a Part 5 and maybe even a part 6 because I have so many thoughts. 

Likes and reblogs always appreciated <3

Tags: @prettylittlebunnys, @kierewrites

It’s been a full week. 

Since Shigaraki informed you that you were in, things have been drastically different. For one, you have your own room now. Twice and Compress spent a day clearing out the spare room previously used for storage, and Toga disappeared for hours, mysteriously showing up at the end of the day, arms loaded with new clothes. When you’d asked how you could repay her, she’d just winked. “No need, I didn’t pay for these in the first place,” she’d giggled. 

 Your room is on the first floor, across from the bar and Dabi’s room. You and Toga had spent your first full evening in your new room, talking and decorating the sparse space with a few items Toga had brought from her own room. A lamp, a small bedside table, a couple posters, a long, thin mirror, a handful of glow in the dark stars from a set that she’d stolen a while back. Spinner showed up with an old, but comfortable enough, bed frame and mattress. It’s a single, and creaky, but it’s your own, and you’re very grateful. 

For the first time since high school, you have your own space. No angry husband, no roommates, just yourself. Despite moving into a space full of Villains, you are sleeping better than you have in years. 

 During the day, you assist with whatever is needed. You’ve not been on another mission since, but Toga explains that’s mainly due to the League having a period of minor inactivity, waiting to hear from the Doctor on what comes next. Toga has brought you to the grocery store with her a few times, explaining that she is the one the League has appointed to ordinary tasks, presumably because she looks the most “normal” compared to everyone else in the League. Either way, each time you go, both of you wear inconspicuous clothing, hats hanging low over your eyes, face masks stretched over the lower half of your faces. And each time, Dabi trails behind you for extra security,  saying nothing, a protective shadow. 

Meals are mainly eaten together in the main room; the League sprawled out across the bar, the couch, in a couple of beaten chairs. It’s never anything fancy; ramen, rice, some bread, but you’re fed and content. Spending time with the League, getting to know everyone on a more connected level, seeing personalities come out more, is much more fulfilling than a strained five star meal with your ex husband at a fancy restaurant, with paparazzi taking your pictures through the windows. 

Everything is easier now. Everything is simpler. You decide that, had you known about the League prior to this, in depth, you would’ve run away from the Hero life years ago. 

 In the week that has passed, Dabi has mostly left you alone. After your second hookup, he has gone back to treating you as the new hire, albeit a little kinder. He insists on shadowing you and Toga on grocery store runs, checks to make sure you’ve eaten dinner before he goes to bed, occasionally invites you to have a drink with the others and himself at the bar, but he keeps his hands to himself. He’s not entirely comfortable with how much he’s been thinking about you, how often he feels the need to check in on you. This is starting to feel like more than just fucking the new hire and something akin to having feelings, which is fucking goddamn awful. He’s not that guy. He can’t be that guy. 

 One night recently, stepping out of his room to have a drink at the bar, the sound of your laughter stopped him in his tracks. It was you and Toga, in your room with the door cracked, doing God knows what- probably Toga showing you some stupid tiktok video- but you were both laughing hysterically. Once again, the sound of your laughter made him feel so light he was disgusted with himself. He’d quickly downed two glasses of whiskey before retiring to his room for the night, getting right into bed so he wouldn’t feel tempted to check in, see what was so funny that you laughed like that. 

 This isn’t like him. He doesn’t like it. 

The week has been a wonderful epiphany for you.

 It has been an internal struggle for him. 

On your eighth day of being part of the League, Dabi knocks on your door, jerking you awake. You groan and resist, pulling your pillow over your head, even as the door swings open. 

“Good mornin’,” Dabi drawls, smirking as you peek out from the pillow to glare at him. 

“Is it?” You grumble, giving up now that it’s evident that he won’t leave. You pull the pillow off your face and force yourself to sit up, swiping your hair out of your eyes. “What time is it?” 

 “Eleven thirty.”

“Shut up, it is not.” You scramble out of bed and brush past him to check the clock hanging over the bar. Sure enough, it’s nearly noon. You turn back to him in amazement. “I’ve never slept in this late.”

“Maybe if you weren’t up all night having girl time with Toga,” Dabi smirks, strolling across the room to you, hands in pockets. “I just thought that maybe you’d be interested in hearing what our next mission is.”

You perk up immediately, plopping down on the couch. “Tell me.”

Dabi explains the plan- the Doctor needs the League to go to an underground Villain club, in search of a particular Villain. 

 “His common name is Thanatos. His real name is-”

“-Buki Shino,” you interrupt, nodding as you think back. “I know that name. I think he was high on the watch list. We never spotted him, though…Sorry,” you add quickly, noticing that Dabi looks perturbed at your interruption. “Why do we need him?”

Dabi glowers at you resentfully. “I was getting to that.”

You make a great show of shutting your mouth and looking at him expectantly. He hides a smile and continues. 

“Thanatos has access to weapons-and followers with Quirks-that we can’t even begin to fathom.  He’s been on our watch list, too. If we can get him to work with the League, we’d be practically untouchable to the Hero Commission.” His eyes gleam at the prospect. “We could completely destroy it.”

“Well,” you say dryly, “as someone that the Hero Commission has recently chewed up, digested, and shit out, I can’t say I’m opposed.” Dabi snickers.

“So, we’re heading to the club tonight.”

“Who’s ‘we’?” you question, heart skipping a beat at the prospect of just you and Dabi on a mission together.

“You, me, Toga, and Compress. Toga will be there in case she has an opportunity to get any blood for new disguises, and Compress will be there in case we need to make a quick getaway.”

You swallow hard. “Why would we need to make a quick getaway? These are other Villains, right, so-”

“One thing you need to remember, Rookie,” Dabi interrupts. “Not all Villains are like us. We have purpose. We have a mission. Not all Villains are going to take you in, hire you, feed you, decorate you bedroom with glow in the dark stars-”

“You leave my stars alone,” you snap, and Dabi chuckles, glancing down at his hands before looking back up at you, his face turning serious. 

“I mean it, Rook. You stick close to me. Only talk to who you have to. Understood?”

“Okay.” You nod, swallowing hard, and glance at the clock again. “When are we leaving?”

“The club doesn’t open until at least 9 pm. So, probably about 10 or so.”

“Okay.” You stand, trying to look casual, as though your heart isn’t beating like it’s about to come through your chest. “I’m gonna go get dressed, and…maybe I’ll make some lunch. Are you hungry?”

Dabi’s eyes give you the up and down as you stretch. “Starving,” he replies, his tone dark. 

Your eyes shoot back to him before you turn on your heel and head for your room, choosing to ignore the implication. “Alright, just let me get dressed, and I’ll-”

You’re halfway across the room when you realize Dabi is hot on your heels. You turn, confused, and find yourself face-to-face with his chest. Looking up, his face is close to yours. 

“Everyone’s out right now,” he breathes. 

You know what this means, know what he wants, and it’s not like you don’t want it too- It’s been all you can think about for the past week, but you’ve rehearsed what you decided to say in your head at least fifty times. 

“Dabi, I don’t think we should-”

He’s backed you into the wall just outside your room, hands ghosting over your hips. 

“Why not?” He murmurs, ducking his head to graze his lips over your bare shoulder. 

“Well, I-I’m part of the League now, and-” you sigh as his lips move up to your neck, feeling the brush of his tongue against your pulse point. “If-if we’re going to keep things professional-”

He chuckles against your throat. “Who said I'm professional?” he asks, but pulls away anyway, much to your relief. 

It takes you a minute to stand up straight, pushing away from the wall, ignoring your trembling legs and the wetness that has pooled between them. Dabi doesn’t miss this, and smirks. 

“I get it,” he says. 

You peer up at him, unsure if he’s angry or not. “You do?”

“Yeah. Close quarters, that kinda thing.” Dabi shrugs and returns to the couch, sprawling out over it. “Just thought it might make the day more interesting.”

“Interesting?” You sputter. Dabi’s eyebrows knit together.

“Yeah?”

You’re infuriated. Interesting. Like you’re a way to pass the time. Like you’re a placeholder before the mission. 

That sucks.

He’s still watching you, confused, as you silently stew, still standing against the wall. You lift your head to glare at him. 

“I’m not just something to pass the time, Dabi.” With that, you spin and march to your room, slamming the door behind you. 

Dabi stares at your door, bemused, then scowls and stands, heading for his own room. “Never said you were,” he mutters, not nearly loud enough for you to hear. 

In your room, you yank on a pair of skinny jeans, a black tank top, and a hoodie, still angry. Stuffing your feet into your shoes, you stroll out of the room to the kitchen, fully expecting Dabi to still be on the couch and admittedly relieved when you see that he’s not. You busy yourself with pots and pans, cracking eggs and stirring ramen into boiling water. You make a batch of ramen big enough to feed the League when they get back from wherever the hell they are, taking your own bowl back to your room to eat alone. 

In his room, Dabi listens to the distant slamming and clanging from the kitchen, smoking cigarette after cigarette on his bed. Christ. He doesn’t know how to do this. He’d proposed a hookup casually to prevent you from seeing how badly he wanted it. Maybe he did want you to think that you’re just something to pass the time. You’re not, though. He can’t stop thinking about it, about you, naked, underneath him. Clearly, he fucked this one up. And not only had you said no, but now you were pissed. He doesn’t get women. He doesn’t get himself- why he’s so obsessed with you. Maybe another hookup, with someone else, will shake him of whatever this is. This fucking craving. Maybe he just needs a distraction. 

The day passes slowly- the two of you stay isolated in your own rooms until nightfall, when the rest of the League returns to headquarters. Slowly but surely, the main room fills as members trickle in, turn on the tv, warm up dinner. You join the rest just before Dabi does and make it a point not to even glance in his direction for the next couple of hours. Dabi stays at the bar, nursing a glass of whiskey and sulking while trying to look like he isn’t sulking. Finally, at quarter of nine, he finishes his drink, stands up, and turns to you. 

“You need to go and get dressed,” he says briskly. “We need to be leaving soon.” 

You nod and head to your room, a shiver of excitement running down your spine. You’re still angry at Dabi for earlier, but it’s quickly being replaced by your anticipation. You have picked out several potential outfits this afternoon, spreading them across your bed, figuring you would ask Toga her opinion before you left. But Toga is up in her own room getting dressed, and Compress won’t have any interest in what you wear. You sigh, considering the outfits, all dark, jeans, tshirts, hoodies, before you hear Dabi behind you. 

“You can put those away. We already chose an outfit for you.” 

You whirl around, surprised, as Dabi steps into your room, closing the door behind him, and holds out a handful of very skimpy-looking clothes. 

“What? Who?” Bewildered, you accept the proffered outfit and look it over, piece by piece. 

“Shig, Toga and I.” The outfit is made up of a black tank top, so thin it could be tissue paper, a short, pleated skirt, thigh highs, and black Docs. You turn to gape at him. 

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

Dabi doesn’t smile. “I’m not. Put it on.” 

You glance at the door, waiting for him to leave, but Dabi doesn’t budge. He stands there, face impassive, as though he’s challenging you. 

Jesus.So this is angry Dabi.

You sigh and throw him an annoyed look, but begin to undress, as he leans back against your closed door and lights a cigarette. It’s not like he hasn’t seen it already. All the same, you dress quickly, annoyed and not wanting to give him a good long glance at anything. 

The tank top feels like silk-you don’t know if this is another Toga piece of clothing or something Dabi has gone out and actually gotten for you, but it’s soft and sheer and shows much more than you’re used to showing. The pleated skirt is purple and black. The thigh highs are long and warm and black- you like these a lot, probably the only part of the outfit that feels comfortable. You shimmy into it all, glancing in the mirror, and your jaw drops. 

“Dabi, this literally shows my ass. I can’t-”

“You can and you will,” he cuts you off. “We don’t want anyone to recognize you. You can’t look like some typical ex-hero. You need to look like you belong on the streets.”

You give him a doubtful look. “This is a disguise?”

“You’ll wear a mask too, like last time.” Dabi takes a drag of his cigarette as his eyes rake up and down your figure. “Toga will help you with makeup. I don’t know nothing about that shit.”  

“I’ll go find her.” First, you sit down on the bed, slipping into the Docs and lacing them tightly. When you stand, you are at least a couple inches taller, which makes you feel a little more powerful as you approach Dabi. 

“I’m gonna need you to move out of the way of the door if you want me to find Toga,” you say sweetly, and he smirks briefly, reluctantly, before his eyes flash away and back to yours. Suddenly, he looks nervous. 

“Look- about this afternoon-” He starts, his voice low, eyes darting back and forth between you and the floor. 

You hold your hand up to stop him. “If it’s all the same, I don’t want to talk about it right now. Can we just forget it?”

Dabi looks frustrated, considering this, before he tries again. “I don’t want you to think that-”

“Look. Dabi.” You take a step back and cross your arms. “I accept that what happened with us was a temporary thing. I understand. That being said, I don’t take sex so lightly. I was in a bad place, and you were a huge comfort to me (his eyes flash to yours in surprise), but I get that it wasn’t like that for you. It meant different things to each of us, and that’s okay. I’m happy that you brought me here. I’m happy to be here. We don’t have to over analyze it. Okay?” 

I don’t want it to be over is on the tip of Dabi’s tongue when there’s a knock on the door. You both jump at the sudden noise. 

“It’s me!” Toga trills, sounding lovely and excited. “Can I come in? I have makeup!”

“Of course,” you call back, as Dabi shuffles away from the door, slipping wordlessly out of it before Toga steps in. 

“Sit, sit, sit!” Toga chirps, guiding you over to the bed and throwing a bag down. “I’ve got work to do!”

Twenty minutes later, Toga’s work is done. You glance in the mirror and can’t help but stare at the girl looking back at you. You don’t recognize her. The ex didn’t allow you to wear much makeup. He said it was whoreish, unnecessary, so you’d never really learned how to apply any of it. But Toga has done a brilliant job; your eyes are smoky and dark, lined with kohl and seem at least two sizes bigger than before. Your skin looks immaculate and smooth, matched with a black-lipsticked smile. You stare for a few more seconds before turning to Toga, wide-eyed. 

“You’re gonna have to teach me how to do this, sometime.”

Toga laughs. “I’d love to! But we gotta go, or we’re gonna be late. C’mon!” she seizes your hand, half dragging you out to the main room, where the others are waiting. 

Compress glances up before standing and heading for the door. “Lovely as always, ladies,” he says warmly. Dabi turns towards you and freezes, sapphire eyes wide. 

“What do you think, Dabs?” Toga chirps, plopping down on the couch to pull her own shoes on. “Doesn’t y/n look great?”

Dabi looks away quickly, turning to put his coat on. All he says is, “I dunno why you put lipstick on her, Toga. She’s gonna have a mask anyway.”

“It’s for the aesthetic,” Toga huffs, then gets up and flounces towards the door. “You never appreciate my work.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dabi mutters, then turns back to you. “Here.” He offers you a black face mask, which you take. 

“Thanks,” you say simply, offering him a small smile before putting the mask on and tucking the bands between your ears. He nods, then leads you out the door. 

“Everyone stay close,” he orders, sounding more like himself. “On the streets, at the club. If shit goes down, I need to know where you are.”

The club isn’t far, so your small group walks there. Several blocks up, Dabi leads you all into an alleyway and down a short flight of stairs, knocking on an ordinary-looking door. You’re surprised to see a speakeasy-style grate slide open, revealing a pair of suspicious eyes. 

“Name and business.”

“League of Villains.” Dabi flashes an easy smile. “Just here to blow off some steam, man.” 

The eyes narrow, the speakeasy grate slides shut, and then the door swings open, ushering you into chaos. 

You immediately flinch from the pounding of the speakers blasting some sort of shitty techno music. Following Dabi inside, you can’t see shit. The inside of the club is all dark and flashing colorful lights. As your eyes adjust, you look around the room. There’s a long bar, tended by what looks like a walking shark, but you realize it’s just a Villain who must have some shark-like quirk. Either way, he’s terrifying. Maybe he was hired for that purpose alone. The room is lined with booths, and a small, lit-up dancefloor stands to the side, packed with dancers. Toga whoops, barely audible over the pumping bass, and makes a beeline for it. Compress groans and follows quickly behind. 

So much for staying together. 

Meekly, you follow Dabi to the bar, trying very hard to look casual. He leans across the bar and speaks to the shark, who nods, pours two whiskeys, and hands them to Dabi, who throws a twenty down on the bar before turning to you and handing you a glass. He leans down to speak in your ear so he doesn’t have to shout. 

“I wasn’t really expecting Toga and Compress to stick around. Drink and stay close to me, okay?” 

His breath against your ear makes you shiver, something Dabi notices. He smirks, pulls back, and takes a sip of his whiskey, his eyes glowing. Annoyed that he caught it, you scowl and down the drink in one gulp. Dabi doesn’t hesitate to take your glass and order you another before leading you to a booth. Instead of sitting across from you, he slides into the seat next to you, cozying up. Leaning down, he speaks in your ear again. 

“We’ll find him. For right now, just act like anyone else here, try to have a good time, okay?” 

“Okay.” The first glass of whiskey has settled in, and you feel slightly more relaxed than before. You allow Dabi to settle a casual arm around you as you nurse your second drink, searching the dance floor for Toga. You find her being twirled around by Compress, and have to smile. You turn to tell Dabi, but find him scanning the room himself, eyes alight. Looking for Thanatos, you figure, and let him do his thing. Twenty minutes passes in a heartbeat, before Dabi collects your empty glass with his, murmurs a “stay here” to you, and gets up without waiting for a response. You watch in slight panic as he abandons you to go back to the bar. 

It’s fine. I’ll just sit here and talk to no one. You turn back to face the dance floor, searching for Toga again, but she is lost in the sea of dancers. You’re looking so hard, you don’t notice when someone slides into the booth beside you, until they speak in your ear, startling you.

“And just who are you?” The smooth, familiar voice causes you to jump and whirl in your seat, finding yourself staring into golden eyes with familiar markings. 

Oh, my God.

“Hawks?” You blurt, before you can stop yourself. 

The winged Hero has come over to flirt, and has no fucking idea who you are. You watch as his golden eyes flash in surprise, and then narrow suspiciously. “Really, who are you?” He demands. 

“Hawks, it’s me.” You pull down your mask to reveal your face, and Hawks’ face whitens as he takes you in. 

“Y/n? What the fuck are you doing here? Everyone’s been looking for you!”

“What the fuck are YOU doing here?” You demand back, partially out of shock and partially to avoid the question. “This is a Villain Club.”

“I’m aware- are you aware?”

“Of course I’m aware! Hawks-” The thought suddenly overtakes you. “Are you working with the Villains or are you here undercover?” The realization that you could be exposed causes your stomach to drop sickeningly, your hands shaking.

Hawks grabs them. “No- No. I’m…ah, fuck it. Y/n, I’ve been working with the League.”

You stare into his anxious eyes for a long second, and the burst out laughing. Hawks stares at you in shock as you laugh hysterically for at least a full minute. 

“Do you wanna tell me what the fuck is going on?” He finally exclaims.

“Hawks- Keigo. I’m part of the League now- I’m trusting you with this,” you say sharply, finally somber. “Nobody knows.”

“Y/n, the last I heard of you, you’d beaten on your ex and then disappeared. The Commission reported you were fired, and the news outlets have been searching for you since. What the actual fuck happened between now and then?” 

 Fuck it, you’ve got time. You lean into Hawk’s ear and give him a brief summary of the last couple weeks of your life. When you’ve finished, his eyes are intense, his mouth flattened into a thin line. You pull back and wait. 

“Fucking Christ, y/n,” he finally says, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes as he takes this all in. “Fucking Christ.”

“Yeah. I know.”

He opens his eyes to gaze at you again. “Are you sure this is what you want? You’re gonna spend your whole life on the run.”

“I don’t think it’s any worse then leading a double life.” You look at him pointedly, and he has the humility to look ashamed. “Why don’t you tell me what you’re doing with the League? Because nobody’s even mentioned you to me.”

It’s Hawks’ turn to lean into your ear and explain himself. By the time he’s done, you’re nodding. 

“Yeah, the Commission’s corrupt. I’m glad to see that somebody else sees it, and not just me.”

“There’s actually a lot of us who feel that way,” Hawks says excitedly, “and we’re getting somewhere. I’d love to tell you more about it sometime, I’m actually due to see Dabi later this week- maybe you can come with him?”

“I can ask. Actually-” you turn to scan the room, frowning. Dabi isn’t near the bar. It’s been at least fifteen minutes. “Maybe I should go find him. Do you mind?”

“Not at all. I’ll be around a little, tonight. If I don’t see you, I’ll bring you up with Dabi later this week.” He flashes you a sincere smile. It’s really fucking good to see you, y/n. I’m glad you’re okay.”

“I’m glad you’re on our side.” You give him a smile and a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll see you soon, okay? And Keigo, please- keep this between us.”

He lifts one hand and crosses it over his chest. “On my life,” he vows, then squeezes your hand, offers you one last smile, and is gone.

You turn to scan the room again, in search of Dabi. Where the fuck is he? 

You don’t know what happened. 

You don’t realize that, fifteen minutes ago when Dabi went to the bar, he turned to check the dance floor, located Toga and Compress, ordered your drinks, and then glanced back to check on you- 

And saw you flirting shamelessly with fucking Hawks. 

It actually made his heart drop in his chest to see how closely you were leaning into each other, the way you were speaking into his ear. He stood, frozen, until he saw Hawks grab your hands, and then forced himself to turn away, slamming the empty glasses down into the bar and heading into the crowd. 

You have no idea what Dabi saw, and what he believes happened. He doesn’t give you any time to explain. 

You get up and move cautiously through the club, in search of him. Passing the dance floor up close, you easily spot Toga and Compress, give them a quick wave, then continue your circling, searching for him. 

You reach the back of the club, spot his head in the crowd, and freeze when you take in the whole scene. 

Dabi, leaning against the wall. 

Dabi, towering above some long-haired woman. 

Dabi, whispering in her ear. 

You can’t tell much about the woman except that she is small and thin, with long blonde hair. She looks like she’s about to take him somewhere and crawl on top of him. Her tiny hands dance along his chest, tracing his collarbone as they speak together quietly, not breaking eye contact. Dabi gives her a long, slow, heated grin, the one he usually reserves for you, and that’s about when you absolutely lose your fucking mind. 

“HEY. What the hell?” You shout, striding over to them, ducking underneath Dabi’s arm long enough to shove his chest. He’s unaffected, but steps back a couple feet, eyes glowing in a way you don’t recognize. 

“What’s your issue?” The woman hisses, grabbing your shoulder and spinning you around. You jerk back. 

“Keep your fucking hands off me. I don’t owe you an explanation,” you spit, righteous indignation and two glasses of whiskey spurring you on. “Keep your fucking hands off him, too.” 

“It’s a free country,” the woman snarks back, glancing above your head to Dabi, who is watching this little scene go down, a satisfied little smirk hovering at the corners of his mouth. 

You snap your fingers an inch from her nose, so that the woman’s eyes shoot back to you. In your Docs, you tower over her, so backing her into the wall and getting a couple inches from her face isn’t a problem. For a second, she actually looks scared.

“Keep your skanky hands off of him,” you say slowly, enunciating each word clearly as though she’s an idiot, which she probably is. 

“What did you just call me?” The woman shrieks, looking like she’s ready to claw your eyes out. You open your mouth to respond when Dabi finally puts an end to it all. 

“Okay, stop. Come here,” he orders, gripping your wrist and wrenching you away. You point threateningly at the woman with your free hand as he drags you, until you stumble and are forced to turn and follow him. 

“Let go of me!” You hiss at him, struggling to free your hand in an all-out tantrum. You are furious and drunk. Dabi pulls you into the nearest bathroom, a small, empty, single stall room. He slams the door shut and locks it behind him before he turns on you. You’re already ripping your face mask off, shoving it into your pocket, ready to start yelling. 

“What the fuck was that?”

“What the fuck was THAT?” You yell back. “You went to go get us a drink and I find you in a fucking makeout corner with some little blonde slut-”

“I went to go get us drinks before I saw you flirting with fucking Hawks,” Dabi counters you, eyes sparking dangerously. “Fucking HAWKS.”

You stare at him in disbelief. “Are you fucking- Dabi, Keigo and I grew up together. He came over because he didn’t recognize me, and when he did-”

“When he did, he was all whispering in your ear and holding your fucking hands,” Dabi snarls.

“HE WAS GLAD TO SEE ME. HE DIDN’T KNOW WHAT HAP- you know what, I don’t need to fucking explain myself to you,” you seethe, turning to wrench the door open. “You have fun with your fucking little whores-”

Dabi’s arm shoots over your shoulder, slamming the bathroom door again so that you can’t leave. He keeps it there as you glare at the door, refusing to look at him, and speaks low in your ear. 

“I was only talking to her because I thought you were talking to him.”

“Then FUCKING ASK ME, Dabi, Jesus!” You yell back, spinning to glower up at him. 

He steps closer to you, his hand coming down to cup your cheek, dragging his thumb across your lips. “So you’re not into Hawks?”

“No, I’m not fucking into Hawks,” you snap, still furious, despite how good his warm hand feels on your skin. “He’s an old friend. That’s it.”

His eyes trace your lips before flashing up to look at you. “So why are you so mad about the Villain-chaser?”

You open your mouth to respond, and find that you don’t have an answer. 

“We- we’re on a mission,” you hiss, trying to muster your indignant righteousness back to where it was before. “You abandoned me-” 

“I didn’t abandon you. I was across the room.” 

“In a Villain Club that I’ve never been to-”

“Toga and Compress “abandoned” you too, and you’re not mad at them.” Dabi’s eyes are glowing triumphantly. “What else ya got?”

You feel yourself start to blush. “I-” He doesn’t let you finish. 

“Admit it. You were jealous.”

That pisses you off. 

“I wasn’t jealous,” you hiss at him, shoving against him. “We have a job to do, and you were off trying to get laid-”

Dabi isn’t having it. He knows he’s won. 

“Jesus, doll,” he drawls, tracing one long finger against your lips. “If you wanted to fuck me again, all you had to do was ask.”

“Fuck you,” you bite out, and he smiles, widely, before seizing you by the throat and shoving you against the wall. You gasp as he leans down and digs his teeth into your collarbone. 

“That’s exactly what I’m gonna do, baby.”

And then he is smothering you, kissing a blazing path up your neck, one hand holding your waist flush against him and one tangled in your hair. You should be mad, should be furious, but you’re kissing him back as though you are drowning and he is oxygen. His lips are at your ear.  

“So good girl gets jealous, huh? Want me all to yourself?” 

You smug, arrogant asshole. 

Something animalistic takes over and you shove against his chest hard enough to make him step back again. You reach up before he can react and slap him across the face. He lets go of your throat and stares at you in surprised delight. “Do it again,” he challenges huskily. 

So you do. This time your hand makes contact with the staples against his cheek, hitting him hard enough to turn his head. When he looks back at you, his smile is dangerous, but he makes no move as you step closer except to gaze at you with lust blown eyes, pupils dilating. 

 When you reach out to clip him again, he seizes your wrist and pulls it to your side, holding you in a straitjacket position and swiveling you so that you’re bent against the wall. You make a sound of distress, but can’t help panting as he hikes up your skirt and pulls your panties down to your ankles. 

 “I didn’t know you liked it so rough, good girl,” he breathes in your ear, and then releases your arms and allows you to brace yourself better against the wall. 

“I’m not always good,” you mutter back breathlessly. His belt clinks as he undoes it. Almost painfully slowly, he lines himself up with your entrance, hissing over how wet you are already. 

“You are for me,” he breathes, and then pushes inside you in one fluid motion. You groan at the fullness, trying desperately to keep your back arched for him, as he begins to fuck you at a steady pace. His hands burn at your hips as he pounds away at you, bullying your cunt. Gasps and soft moans from both of you fill the tiny space. 

 Somewhere along the way, your hands go numb. Dabi sees them slipping from the wall and seizes your arms, long enough to pull you against his chest before wrapping his own arms around you to pull your tank top down and fondle your breasts. You moan, your head falling back against his shoulder. His pants and muttered curses sound even better so close to your ear, and all too soon you feel the familiar tightening in your belly. 

 “Not yet,” you whimper, because this feels so good you want it to last hours. 

 “Gotta be quick, baby,” Dabi half-whispers, half-moans in your ear. “We’re on a mission, remember?” 

Oh, yeah. That. 

Dabi knows exactly what will finish you the quickest. Reaching down, his deft fingers part you, finding your clit as he pushes sloppily into your cunt. 

“Oh, fuck-“ the tightening increases and you feel your body tensing up, preparing for the onslaught. 

 “You’re doing such a good job for me, baby. You feel so good,” Dabi whispers, his own breath ragged. “I want you to cum on daddy’s cock, please? For me? Come on baby, I know you can.” He listens as your panting increases rapidly, hiding a smile into the crook of your neck before biting down gently. “Cum for daddy, good girl.” 

 You let go, crying out, vaguely aware that his hand snakes over your mouth to muffle you as you shake uncontrollably against him. 

 “So fucking good,” Dabi moans, his hips stuttering against you as he finds his own end, trembling and panting into your shoulder as he gushes inside you. You both take a minute, leaning against each other, panting as you come down to earth. 

Eventually the moment ends, and you find yourself pushing off from Dabi’s chest, pulling up your panties, fixing your top, and straightening your skirt. You stride to the mirror to smooth your hair. Behind you, Dabi catches your eye in the mirror and smirks as he secures his belt. 

“Guess I should make you jealous more often.”

“Shut up,” you snap, but you can’t help grinning as you smooth your hair back into place. 

He chuckles. 

“Better get this done with. Shig is gonna think we ran away or somethin’.”

You turn towards the stall to clean up, already feeling the warm trickle of cum leaking from your cunt and running down your thigh. “I have to-”

Dabi seizes your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. Confused, you look up at him. “Leave it,” he breathes, pupils dilating again as he gazes down on you. “Please.”

He looks so pathetic and needy at this request that you can’t say no. You just can’t. You lean down, straightening your thigh highs, then nod towards the door. “Let’s go, then.”

Dabi gives you another triumphant grin, swooping down to kiss you gently. “That’s my good girl,” he murmurs against your lips, kissing you once more. He waits for you to pull your mask out of your pocket and slip it back on before he turns, and leads you out the door. 

Back in the chaos of the club, Dabi slips his hand into yours to guide you as he scans the room. His head turns sharply, focusing on a far corner, then nods. “We need to go get Toga and Compress. He’s here,” he says into your ear, then leads you to the dance floor. You follow dutifully, feeling like a puppy. 

At the edge of the floor, Dabi quickly locates Toga and Compress, dancing blissfully in the center of the crowd, and waves them over. They hurry over to join you, sweating profusely, out of breath, but beaming. 

“Having fun?” Dabi asks dryly.

“So much!!!” Toga and Compress chorus gleefully, high-fiving.

“Well, tighten it up. He’s here.” 

Both of them quickly sober, eyes lighting up as they follow Dabi’s nod to the corner. You’re too short to see above the crowd, so you can’t see where they’re looking, but you hold on tight to Dabi’s hand and wait patiently for the next move. 

“Let’s go,” Dabi says, loudly enough that everyone hears him, and leads the way to the opposite side of the club. On the way there, you pass the Villain-chaser from before. Dabi doesn’t even look at her and keeps your hand in his as he leads the way. You can’t help but throw her a smug smile behind your mask as she stares at the two of you in wide-eyed disbelief. As the cherry on top, you flash her the middle finger before turning back to trail after your tall, raven-haired guide. 

He doesn’t miss this. Glowing blue eyes shine down on you in approval just as you reach the back corner of the club. This is clearly a VIP section, the booths fancier, more spacious, cleaner. 

You know which one is Thanatos instantly, just by the way everyone is fawning around him. He’s a big man, at least seven feet tall, with long dark hair that trails down to his muscular arms and chest. He looks like a Greek god, a warrior. Surrounding him are smaller, lesser Villains, many women, and an entire security team. Dabi waits patiently, letting go of your hand and nudging you gently behind his back so that you’re practically hidden. Toga and Compress sandwich you into Dabi’s back, flanking your small group with brisk professionalism. 

It only takes a couple minutes for Thanatos to notice Dabi standing patiently in front of him. “Ah, I know that face anywhere,” he booms, his voice clear and deep even over the music of the club. “You’re the one they call Dabi, aren’t you? With the League of Villains.”

“That’s correct. I’m here to request a discussion between you and the leader of the League, Shigaraki, at your earliest convenience.” Dabi speaks clearly, graciously. “He sent us here to seek you out.” 

“And who do you have with you?” Thanatos inquires, lifting his eyes to the space just behind Dabi. “I want to know who Shigaraki has sent.”

Dabi steps aside, and in one fluid motion, Toga and Compress step forward, once again obscuring you from view. 

“This is Toga and Compress,” Dabi introduces them quickly. “Two of our strongest members.”

“I see them,” Thanatos booms, “But I’m wondering who the little one is, hiding behind you.”

You feel Dabi stiffen, briefly, before reaching his hand back to you, to guide you to his side. You are shaking a little; this is a Villain the Commission has long been searching for, one that you’ve never actually managed to see in person. His list of crimes is longer than your list of saves as a Hero. To the Hero Commission, he was like a myth, terrifying, strong, and largely nonexistent. He’s never been caught. He’s never even been sighted in public. 

This is kind of a big deal.

“This is our newest recruit….” Dabi pauses, and panic sweeps over you as you realize you haven’t created a Villain name for yourself yet. Dabi covers that smoothly. “It’s her first week. We brought her along as part of her training.” You give a stiff and hurried bow of respect as Thanatos regards you briefly before turning back to Dabi. “And where is your great leader, the one who wants to speak with me, but has yet to face me?” He rumbles, causing his lackeys in the background to chortle. 

Dabi’s chin jerks up a fraction of an inch. “In the League, we run the errands and send the messages. Shigaraki only comes after we’ve secured an appointment.”

Thanatos considers this, nodding. “Not a bad way of doing things,” he agrees, then sighs deeply, as if the weight of the world is on his shoulders.

“I will meet with Shigaraki. One of my cohorts will give you contact information-” he turns to nod his head at a lackey, who scrambles over with a pen and a small piece of paper, scribbling down some information. Dabi takes it with a nod, places it carefully in his pocket. 

“Tell your Shigaraki I look forward to speaking with him,” Thanatos says, clearly a dismissal. Dabi nods. 

“We’ll be in touch.” Dabi turns and steps away, you, Compress and Toga quickly following suit. 

 Dabi leads the rest of you out of the club and into the night air. The minute the door swings shut behind you, you take off your mask and take a deep breath, letting the chill fill your lungs. You turn to beam triumphantly at Dabi, who returns your smile as Toga does a victory dance and Compress gives a silly little bow. 

“Well done, team,” Compress sounds like he’s beaming behind his mask. 

“Let’s get home.” Dabi takes your hand again (a gesture not missed by Toga and Compress, who elbow each other but mercifully stay silent), and leads you down the sidewalk. 

Back at headquarters, Dabi immediately goes upstairs to report to Shigaraki and give him the contact information that Thanatos’ lackey gave him earlier. You sink down on the couch with Toga as Compress bids you both goodnight and also disappears up the stairs. 

Toga yawns, slumping against your shoulder. “God, what a night. My feet hurt from dancing,” she says dreamily, and you make a mental note to ask Dabi if you can go back to the club again every once in a while. 

“You did a good job tonight,” Toga adds, sitting up to smile at you. “You’re really one of us now, huh?”

Warmth floods you as you beam back at her. “Yeah, I guess I am,” you say quietly, and Toga pecks a quick kiss on your cheek.

“I’m sleepy. Goodnight!” She bounces up the stairs. Moments later, you hear her door click shut. 

 You sit on the couch for a while, reflecting on the mission, and listen to the low murmur of Dabi’s and Shig’s voices upstairs. You think back to Hawks, possibly the greatest shock of the evening. Keigo was a childhood friend, a confidant, and you’re beyond thrilled to be able to see him and speak with him again. Crazy, what he’s doing with the League, but then- so are you. You’ll have to ask Dabi if you can come with him when he goes to see Hawks the next time…

Your thoughts are interrupted by Dabi’s heavy footfall on the stairs. He descends quickly, head down, taking a drag of his cigarette, and begins to cross the room to your door, not even noticing you on the couch. 

“Going somewhere?” You smirk, and he jumps, noticing you.

“Jesus. Yeah, I was coming to…check in,” he says vaguely. 

Your smile widens. “About what?” You ask, feigning innocence. 

He takes another drag, blowing it out slowly as he eyes you, one hand stuffed in his pocket. 

“Can we go to your room?” He asks, gesturing towards your door. 

“Sure.” You stand and lead the way, turning on the lights as you do. Dabi shuts the door behind him and leans against it, his same move from earlier. You sit on the bed, cross your legs, and wait. 

He’s staring at the floor, trying to find words. He doesn’t know how to do this. He mutters something, something you don’t quite catch.

“What?” You find yourself leaning forward, straining to hear.

Dabi huffs a sigh and then looks up, locking eyes with you. “You’re not just something to pass time on. That’s not how I see you.”

 You’re thrilled, but still hesitant. “But earlier-”

“I said that so you wouldn’t know how bad I- how much I…I was trying to be casual. But I think I should tell you, this isn’t…casual…to me. Not anymore.”

Cerulean eyes meet hazel eyes from across the room as you both weigh the meaning of the words. He doesn’t say anything. He’s waiting for you. 

Instead of formulating a response, seeking out the perfect words- you’re far too tired for that- you stand, cross the room, and press your lips to Dabi’s. He responds instantly, his hands twisting in your hair, deepening the kiss without hesitation. When you finally pull away, his eyes are half open, his breathing ragged as he waits for whatever comes next.

You take his hand leading him away from your door. “Let’s just go to bed.”

To be continued 

[idontknowreallywhy]

Best Jupidad Moments #6 Nevermoor Ch 9 - What’s Really Important?

Right, I’m not going to lie, I’m struggling to differentiate between “the best Jupidad moments” and “ALL the Jupidad moments” as each one has its particular charm but… I’ll try to rein myself in!

First: trying exciting new things…

The bone-shaking terror she’d felt watching the platform speed towards her was washed away by a wave of adrenaline, and she let out a triumphant shout as they hooked on to the rail. Jupiter grinned, throwing his head back to enjoy the ride.

I especially love this moment right now because I recently took my daughter on her first proper rollercoaster ride. She wanted to do it, to start with, but got herself very worked up and tearful in the queue. Part of me wanted to just say “ok fine, we don’t have to do this today” but I feel like I know her fairly well(!) and I was sure she’d enjoy it and also be really proud of herself for facing her fear and going through with it. So instead I said “we’re going to do it, I think you’ll love it but if not it’ll be less than a minute, you’ll be safe and I’m with you and we never have to do it again”. Thankfully she did love it, but I did question myself and my parenting a lot in that queue!

Our Jupidad is making a similar call, albeit without the assurance of physical safety cos… Nevermoor… and sure enough this becomes one of Morrigan’s favourite things about living in the city. Did he know for sure she wouldn’t hate it? No. But he pushes her to try anyway.

I also suspect he’s running distraction here - she’s nervous about the garden party, so he gives her something else to focus on, where she gets a big old shot of adrenaline and arrives at the party thinking “wow, I did that!” which should take the edge off the nerves at least a little. Clever Jove.

He also lets her choose her own outfit, rather than forcing her into something that would make her either blend in with everyone else’s pastel vibe, or match his own flamboyant style…

… filled with people in light linen suits and pastel dresses. Jupiter had allowed Morrigan to choose her own outfit – a black dress with silver buttons, which Dame Chanda declared ‘smart, but utterly lacking in spectacle’. Morrigan thought Jupiter’s lemon-yellow suit and lavender shoes provided enough spectacle for both of them.

I think this is a pretty big deal actually and perhaps not something Morrigan would have foreseen after the “black isn’t a colour” conversation. Would it have been kinder to have said “I think everyone else will wear something more spring-ish”? It might have saved her from a couple of insults from Noelle… but the two of them were likely to clash anyway and isn’t it better to start making new friendships by being yourself? It’s easy to want to protect a child from getting splashed by social waves, but if you coddle them too much they won’t learn to swim in the sea.

There are some waves, however, that nobody should take to the face. Like raw sewage, radioactive waste, or Baz Charlton…

He was cut off by a sharp look from Jupiter, his mouth left hanging open. ‘Consider your next words carefully, Mr Charlton,’ Jupiter said in the low, cold voice that Morrigan had heard from him only once before, on Eventide at Crow Manor. She shivered.

Baz Charlton closed his mouth. Jupiter stepped aside, releasing the long-haired man from his gaze and allowing him to stumble away. He sighed as he smoothed down his yellow suit and gave Morrigan’s shoulder a quick squeeze. ‘Told you. Odious man. Pay no attention.’

I really want to know what the deal is with Jupiter’s low, cold voice because it really freaks everyone out! I wonder how often he uses it other than in Mog-defence-mode? It’s a very effective way of protecting Morrigan here and although I think we’d all like to see Baz dropped from a great height into a skip, I really appreciate how there’s no physical threat used.

Enjoying yourselves?’ Jupiter wandered over with a placid smile, ignoring the stream of servants rushing past with nets and brooms. Morrigan chewed the side of her mouth guiltily. ‘A bit.’

Ha, I love the image of that smile where he knows exactly what’s gone on here. I also adore the fact that Morrigan has somehow befriended the one child out of 500 who is probably the most like Jupiter was at school 😅

Plus the moment of mirroring later when she asks Jove a question she knows the answer to:

‘I’m here illegally, aren’t I?’

Jupiter chewed the side of his mouth. ‘A bit.’

How do they debrief later? Not with a “so, what did you think of Wunsoc?” but…

‘You made a friend.’ ‘I think so.’

‘Anything else of interest?’

Morrigan thought for a moment. ‘I think I made an enemy too.’

‘I didn’t make my first proper enemy until I was twelve.’ He sounded impressed.

Oh poor Morrigan, you’re going to rack up a few of those pretty soon. Thanks to Jupidad for making that sound like an achievement rather than a character flaw 😬

‘Promise you’ll think about it?’

‘Only if you promise you’ll stop thinking about not getting into the Society.’

‘But if I don’t get in—’

‘We’ll blow up that bridge when we come to it.’ Morrigan sighed. Just give me a straight answer, she thought. But she said no more.

Jupiter ushered Morrigan down the hall ahead of him. ‘Now. Tell me more about your resourceful new friend. Where in the Seven Pockets did he find a barrel full of toads?’

And just like that he brings it back round to what should be important to an 11 year old - friends, having fun, new experiences - and sharing the excitement of these things with a parental figure is such a precious and vital part of the relationship. Jupiter proves he is as interested in these details of her life as much if not as more than the big picture “what does the future hold, what is my purpose?” kind of stuff that threatens to take over.

This is maybe my favourite thing about Jupidad - how he constantly values her as a person (and as part of that her everyday life experience) above everything else, even though he is confronted with the BIG thing that makes her particularly important to the world every single time he looks at her.

[azurillturtle]

summoning (laughter and light)

a certain azem (no, not that one) asks for help and receives an unexpected response.

this is the euny story that most directly connects with a kinder fate (for now, at least), and gives a glimpse of the series post-ending.

The greatest strength one can ever have is to know one’s own weakness.

It’s a cliché. A platitude. It’s a saying parroted again and again to children and to youngsters utterly convinced of their own infallibility. The greatest strength one can ever have is to know one’s own weakness.

It is the same thing her teacher told her, wisdom imparted with a breezy smile and complete earnestness. If she acknowledges her weaknesses, she understands what she cannot do. If she understands what she cannot do, she knows when she must turn to others for help.

“There is no shame in asking for help,” they had said. They were spinning their mask idly on one finger; their gold and violet eyes flitted restlessly from star to star in the night sky rather than look at her. “Better to call in an expert than make a mess of things. Or if you’re going to make a mess anyway, call them in so you have someone else to blame.”

“Is that why you always call Emet-Selch?” she’d asked. “So that you have a scapegoat if necessary?”

They’d laughed, throwing their head so far back that the ends of their sable hair brushed against the rocks. “Oh, that’s a good one! It is always fun to lay the blame at his feet.

“But no. I call him because I have the utmost respect for him. He is powerful, and reliable, and the greatest problem solver I know. If I know no expert, Emet-Selch is the next best thing.”

But she has no Emet-Selch on her side; she has no jack-of-all-trades versatile enough to be the solution to any situation. Most of all, she does not possess the sheer power of her predecessor. For all that summoning allies has come to be considered the characteristic magick of Azem, she cannot wield it with the same sort of careless ease. She can at most call only one person, and if she is to choose, she can only designate someone she knows well.

So it is that she often finds herself with no one else on whom she can rely, even when she knows her power and her knowledge are insufficient.

In time, she will have her own network of friends and contacts; in time, she will always know the perfect person to call. In time she will grow into the title of Azem, and if she does not quite manage to fill the hupodema of her renowned predecessor, at least the hupodema will have changed to something more befitting her.

But that is cold comfort when she has a problem that needs solving now, and she has not the tools to address it.

Azem grits her teeth; she braces herself against the roiling earth. The trees tilt dangerously about her. For one disorienting moment she thinks she is falling sideways with feet still firmly planted on the ground, but no—it is the forest floor itself that is moving, sinking and falling so that what was once flat land is now a landscape of hills and gullies.

With a little hop, she removes herself to more solid ground. Her safety is for the moment assured, but the same cannot be said for the forest as a whole.

Azem worries at her bottom lip as she thinks. She’s dispatched the creatures responsible for the recent rash of sinkholes, a clan of invasive, gigantic groundworms that had been gnawing through dirt and rock and greenery alike. But, as she is learning, there is the root of the problem and then there is the problem itself. Ridding the forest of worms has ensured that they can do no more damage. It does not change the fact that the ground has been chewed up and burrowed through until it has the structural integrity of a sponge cake containing far too much yeast.

Do sponge cakes even have yeast? Azem isn’t certain. But sponge cake does sound good right about now. Maybe she’ll look into it once she’s managed to solve the current crisis.

But she doesn’t know how to solve the current crisis, and she doesn’t know anyone who knows, and so she is at a loss as to what to do.

Her only acquaintance who knows anything about plants is Halmarut. Her only acquaintance who knows anything about the earth is Loghrif. Neither of those is fully correct; neither has the knowledge or the power to stabilize a land shaking itself to pieces.

Azem thinks wildly, what she needs is an engineer. Someone who understands physical objects in ways that she does not: how to build support structures, how to reinforce a failing tunnel, how to construct a temporary scaffold that will hold long enough to implement more permanent measures.

She does not know an engineer.

She wishes desperately that Pashtarot were here, but that would do no good either. Metis does not know any more about engineering than she does.

The best she can do is cast her prayers to the wind. It may well be a lost cause, but if Azem has been taught anything—along with the humility to recognize and acknowledge her own weaknesses—it is that accepting defeat is the surest way to make it a reality.

She closes her eyes, shifting her stance to ride the movements of the rolling earth. She stretches her arms out before her, palms down. Golden light shines through her eyelids as she begins to weaves the familiar magick.

Location. Need. She does not specify the aetherial signature of the target; she leaves it open-ended. She does not care who responds, so long as they can help.

Please. Please.

There’s a flash bright enough for her to flinch back even with her eyes closed. Then the ground rocks, and she tenses her muscles so that she doesn’t lose her balance.

The person she has summoned is not so lucky. Caught by surprise, he swears in a low voice. She starts to apologize, but he is already speaking over her.

“Tell me what’s happened.”

His voice is steady and so full of authority that she finds herself answering automatically. “Groundworm tunnels beneath the earth, stretching at least five malms in each direction. The recent rains are causing them to collapse. There are two villages affected, one to the north on the edge of the forest, one to the southwest.”

The man clicks his tongue. Azem says, somewhat hopelessly, “Can you help?”

“I answered your call, didn’t I?” he mutters. Then, without warning, the golden light of her summoning spell is dampened by a sudden wave of darkness.

With the light gone, Azem dares to open her eyes. Standing with his back to her is a tall man in a white robe. Dark purple aether streams from both his hands and seeps into the ground. He controls it with perfect, unhesitating ease: with the slightest twist of his wrist or jerk of his fingers, it moves as he wills. She feels a sting of jealousy at the effortless, elegant way he manipulates his magick, as if it comes as naturally to him as breathing.

As he slides one foot back, surveying his work, she catches a glimpse of his profile. Azem cannot stifle her gasp. His white mask is of the common sort; she did not recognize his voice, as unexpected as it is in a place like this. But she knows the strength of his jawline, the scowl that dominates his expression, and the locks of white that fall to frame his tanned face.

The sudden realization of just whom she has managed to call sends her reeling. She did not expect an answer from him. She hadn’t even been aware he yet walked the star.

“The plants,” the man says curtly, as if unaware that she is gaping, at a loss for words. “Their roots will anchor the loose soil and provide structure. Can you work the trees?”

She swallows. She has never done so before, but now does not seem to be the time to say as much. She nods, only belatedly realizing that he is not watching her, and turns her focus to the forest around them.

The trees are lethargic things. When she reaches out to them with a questing tendril of aether, they are slow to respond. She gets the impression of great age. They have already survived many of her own lifetimes; she is little more than a child to them. They have no attention or interest in the fast, quick creatures that walk the earth. She tries to argue with them; she tries to insist; but they who consider time in years or centuries do not understand the urgency of her request.

In the end, impatient, she shoves her power through them and forces them to bend to her will. As their roots spread, snaking through the dirt and the rock, their neighbors begin to follow her lead. Soon enough all the forest flora are under her sway. Her ears fill with the sounds of creaking branches and rustling leaves; she hears their grumbling in her mind and and in her bones; but the more she insists, the more willingly they obey. Soon the plants are shooting up into the sky and down into the ground, seasons of growth crammed into a few short moments, sprouting new buds and blossoms even as their roots weave together through the porous earth.

As the effect spreads and the quakes settle, the man pulls back his magick. After a while, she no longer needs to direct her spell: The plants eagerly drink in her aether and convert it into growth. Only when the forest has accepted her offering and saved itself does she stop.

Azem opens her eyes. She blinks. She feels oddly small and light after having touched these ancient giants. The undergrowth is so dense that the paths between the trees are no longer visible. The lowest branches are a further three fulms above the forest floor. All is still and calm once more.

She turns her head, slowly and full of wonder. Even that small movement is too much: the world tilts dangerously around her, and she stumbles.

The man catches her elbow before she can fall. “Careful,” he says.

Though he sounds annoyed, his grip on her is firm and gentle. He speaks only out of concern. She accepts his support with gratitude: she has exerted herself more than she intended, and her magick has left her drained.

But it was necessary, the only course of action available to her really, and so she does not regret it.

As if following her train of thought, the man says grudgingly, “That was very well done.”

“It’s only a temporary solution at best,” she says, blearily and aimlessly. “I’ll need to consult with Halmarut, see what we can do in the long term.”

“Nonetheless, the worst has passed. Your ‘temporary solution’ will hold for a moon at least.”

Once he is certain she is steady on her feet, he releases her. There are words of thanks on the tip of her tongue, but he is looking away and staring into the distance, as if hoping to avoid them. He has never liked praise or gratitude, she remembers.

Instead she says, “When I sent out the call, I did not expect you to answer.”

“I am unfortunately accustomed to answering untimely summons from Azems,” he says dryly.

She cannot help but grin. Doubtless that was his intention: Though he still avoids looking at her, his expression softens. In a swift, unsubtle change of subject, he says, “Give my regards to Halmarut and the others.”

Her head bobs in a nod. This time the action makes her only a little dizzy. “Of course. You too. Tell your companions I wish them well.”

She is fishing for information, and the man does not disappoint. He heaves a world-weary sigh. “They do not need your well wishes. They are as irritatingly energetic as always.”

“That’s good, then,” she says with a laugh.

He groans. If she did not know him as well as she does, she might believe his annoyance to be genuine.

“I trust you can handle matters from here?” he says. Azem nods again, with no ill effect this time. She has recovered enough that she is steady on her feet. “Good. I must return. There’s no telling what mischief they will get up to in my absence.”

Without another word, he steps away. He lifts one hand, wrist twisting in a lazy wave as he walks. His figure grows faint as he bridges the distance to his destination. In mere moments, he will vanish from sight.

Impulsively, she calls to his back, “Eme—Hades! …Thank you.” She thinks her words do not reach him, but then he turns and looks at her.

He wears a wry, lopsided smile. It is an expression he would never have shown her before. She wonders if he has grown soft and sentimental now that he has been freed from the burden of his former office.

“Safe travels and joyful returns, Azem,” Hades says, and then he is gone.

[whumping-in-the-wings]

Well, at long last, the moment I’ve been waiting for has arrived. It’s time to introduce you all to one of this story’s central characters, and possibly one of the most personally important characters I’ve ever allowed myself to write. This was actually a more recent idea that only started to take shape a few weeks ago, but it quickly grew into something I couldn’t stop and didn’t want to. If I hadn’t found this community, I honestly don’t think I would ever have written anything like this. I’ll be reblogging this post with a longer author’s note that will explain a little more, but for now, let’s just get to it, shall we?

CW: bruises, mentions of injury, caretaker POV

Taglist: @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump, @finaldreams1106, @redwingedwhump, @whumpy-catfish (and as always, let me know if you’d like to be added/removed from the list!)

Traces: Part Six

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“…for my Robin is to the greenwood gone, but he loves me, aye, he does!”

The final note cracked as harshly as a dropped eggshell, and the mule flicked an ear back in annoyance. Cyra Swann reached forward and patted the creature’s shoulder by way of apology. “Sorry, old girl. I’ve a voice no softer than yours, it seems.”

If there had been anyone but the mule to hear her, Cyra wouldn’t have bothered with the singing. From her voice to her work-callused hands, everything about her was rough, too rough for a sweet thing like a song. But the sun was nearly set now, and the road to Aurenside Manor was deserted. A dark, empty road was a dangerous road, and the best way Cyra had found to deal with danger was to make your presence known to it and bid it come closer if it dared. She’d started out as she always did when she was on her way back from a fair, loudly cursing the tanner and the blacksmith for the high prices they charged on leather and horseshoes and all the other things a stablemaster had need of. But even her plentiful supply of insults had run out half a mile back, so a song it was for the rest of the journey.

To the relief of both her voice and the mule’s ears, however, they had not much farther to go, and it was only a few minutes more before the familiar shape of Aurenside Manor loomed in front of them. There was no challenge called as Cyra turned the mule onto the path that led to the gatehouse, and the gate itself had been left standing open. “No guard again,” Cyra scoffed. “And it’s not because they expected me back, either, it’s because there’s ale flowing in the great hall. Couldn’t ask a kinder welcome, if I were a thief. No doubt Duncan and the boys will be in there wetting their gullets too, and they’ll have left the chores undone, as like as not. I might be only the stablemaster, old girl, but this whole damned place goes to pieces when I’m gone, and it’s all the lordling’s fault, as most things are.”

She patted the mule again, ducking low over the animal’s back as they passed through the gate. “What say you, then? Is our Sir Aubrey more stupid than spoiled, or the other way round? And which is it worse to be, I wonder?”

The mule never minded her fault-finding, and Cyra always had plenty to find fault with, so she kept up a steady stream of it until they’d reached the stable door. Then it was time to turn her focus to the tricky business of dismounting.

She knew the steps by heart now, though that hardly made it easier to perform them. The strong oak cane she’d carried across her lap went down first, and she dug the tip of it into the ground as she leaned low over the mule’s neck. It took no little effort and brought no little pain to swing one leg over the mule’s back and kick the other free of the stirrup, and then there was the drop to the ground, her teeth gritting at the familiar sharp protest that shot through her hips as she landed. She let the cane take most of her weight for a moment, waiting for the painful twinge to ebb again and making sure her feet, inward-turned as they were, had found a solid purchase on the ground.

“There’s that, then,” she told the mule as soon as she felt steady again, reaching for the halter and setting off toward the stable at a slower pace than was typical for her. Ordinarily, except for the more difficult tasks like dismounting, she hardly needed the cane and carried it only as a precaution. But the long ride had settled a worse-than-usual soreness into her legs tonight, and there was no one about to see her, so she let herself lean on the long oak staff more heavily than she otherwise would have.

For once the stable door appeared to have been securely latched- which wouldn’t spare Duncan a tongue-lashing, if he was really off drinking in the great hall as she suspected he was, but improved her mood at least a little. She had to lay the cane against the wall while she lit the heavy iron lantern that hung on a hook at the side of the door; fate, for some foolish reason, had seen fit to give humans only two hands, and hers would be full of lantern and rope, with none left for the cane. But the stable was small and the walls were close, and she’d have plenty to lean on if need be. With the flickering light to show her where to put her feet and the mule plodding patiently behind her, she undid the latch and limped into the familiar dimness of the stable.

It didn’t matter how much she despised Aurenside, or how often its golden-haired lord irritated her: this place, at least, was a haven, and her many rough edges were always somewhat smoothed with the stable’s stones about her. Though the mule was pawing the ground now, anxious for her supper, Cyra paused a moment, as she always did, to close her eyes and breathe in the well-known and well-loved scent of hay and horse and harness.

When she opened them again, there was another pair of eyes staring into them, gleaming dark in the lantern light.

Cyra cursed, dropping the mule’s halter and barely managing to avoid dropping the lantern as well. Only her many years of knowing not to make sudden movements around horses- and how difficult it was for her to make sudden movements at all- kept her from stumbling back in shock. Instead she stood frozen, her heart beating like a rabbit’s, slowly raising the lantern higher to see exactly what she was dealing with.

Her heart jolted all over again when she recognized the shape of a centaur. But the next moment she saw that the beast was staring at her from over one of the sturdy stall doors. Her brow furrowed, and she stepped nearer, sure now that the centaur couldn’t do the same. One of the lantern-beams fell on the creature’s side, on the crimson brand bright against the black-brown coat, and immediately she understood. The tension drained from her body like water from a cracked jug, even as chilling fear changed itself to blazing anger.

“That Aubrey,” she burst out. “That idiot!”

Though she regretted that her stiff hips would not let her stomp around her tasks with any satisfying amount of force, her tongue was as nimble as anyone else’s, and she had never been afraid to put it to use. The centaur was left nearly forgotten in the heated ramble that followed; it was Sir Aubrey who took the full force of the stablemaster’s fury.

“I hope,” Cyra snarled, “that that temper of his sets him afire someday! If it were noble brains that made lordships instead of noble blood, he’d be naught but a beggar and no mistake!” She slammed the lantern down onto its hook, seized the closest brush and all but attacked the mule’s damp sides with it. “Make a name for himself, will he? Make them remember him? Well, he might try going off and dying in some terrible way. Or walling himself up in a cave somewhere for the rest of his days, they’d make a saint of him for that-“

She kept on as she finished caring for the mule, all the while knowing in the back of her mind that she would never have said most of this to Sir Aubrey’s face. She had never feared him- there was little that she truly feared- but she knew as well as anyone in Aurenside how dangerous he could be. Her anger was only ever words. Aubrey’s could be much more, much worse, than that.

Job done and the greater part of her indignation played out, she brushed her hands briskly together and turned back to what had caused that indignation to begin with. The centaur was still watching her, his dark ears pricked forward and his eyes following her every movement.

But not fearfully. Not the way he should have been watching her, given that he’d clearly had the worst of someone’s ill humor if the bruises and cuts littered across his pale human half- and likely the other half, too, though it was too dark to see clearly- were anything to judge by. He wasn’t angry, and he wasn’t anxious about what she might do next. He was only watching, as if…as if he was trying to understand her.

As if he could understand her.

The idea was so sudden, so surprising, that Cyra’s eyes widened. And then, the next moment, she shook her head, almost laughing at her own foolishness. It didn’t matter how human those eyes looked; there was only emptiness behind them. Everyone knew that. If he hadn’t been a centaur, he would have been no different than one of her horses.

The thought, oddly enough, settled her down a little, soothed the uneasiness she’d been feeling ever since she’d walked in and seen him. She knew horses. She knew nothing better than horses. She could handle this, even if she still intended to give Sir Aubrey Gravesend a piece of her mind for putting her in a position where she had to.

Lifting the heavy lantern again, she stepped close enough to peer at the centaur over the stall door, grateful to see that his hands were bound and there was little chance that he could harm her. “I’ll just put a rein on my temper, then,” she said, more gently than she’d spoken all night. “It looks as though temper’s the last thing you need more of, poor creature.”

A particularly impressive string of bruises traced a line from his left temple down to his right cheekbone, as though someone had struck him across the face with something. A rope, probably, and Duncan even more probably. He had a habit of doing that; she’d taken him to task the first time she caught him doing it to one of her colts. Either the lesson hadn’t stuck, or he’d decided it didn’t apply to a centaur.

With tempers like Duncan’s and Sir Aubrey’s about, this was far from the first time she’d come back to find a horse in need of a gentle touch and a bit of patching up. She continued her inspection with the practiced eye of someone who knew what to look for, clicking her tongue at the apparent lack of food and water, making a low sound of disapproval deep in her throat when she spotted the arrow-wound beneath the brand. Finally, satisfied that she at least knew her own next steps even if Sir Aubrey’s long-term plan for this whim of his remained a mystery, she stepped back a bit, shaking her head.

“It looks as though we’ve given you a rough welcome, and it’s sorry I am about it,” she said. “But I don’t think you’ll give me much trouble. And that means I won’t have to give you much temper, and we ought to get on just fine, you and I.” She turned away to set the lantern down, the thick iron making it too heavy to hold for long. “But I tell you one thing,” she continued, half to herself. “You’re as much as I’ll stand for. If that idiotic piece of arrogance tries to fill up my stable with any more of your kind, I’ll put a stop to it that fast, I promise you that.”

A sharp intake of breath from behind her. A quick step forward. And a voice.

“You can do that?”

This time Cyra did drop the lantern, whirling around far faster than she would have thought herself capable of doing just a moment before. It was her turn to stare into those eyes with her own eyes wide and startled, her lips parted in shock.

“Sweet Judas,” she breathed. “You can speak.”

[sandbees]

Yuu and the House of Mouse; The...Great Seven?

It’s been three weeks since Yuu has worked at the House of Mouse.

Headmaster Crowley decided that going would be a great experience! He graciously gave you permission to work there! (Just don’t forget to do your homework and get a good rest after; he doesn’t want you to be lagging behind your classes after all!)

At the House of Mouse, you eventually learned the ins and outs; and you’ve gained everyone’s attention. They like you a lot! You have this, “If I talk to you about my problems you’ll listen kindly and either give me advice or continue to let me vent out my feelings” vibe.

Being a (sort of) therapist must have helped, huh?

You yourself have a few favorite guests that you can always look forward to seeing;

Tiana and Naveen: You hit it off when you first met. Something about their dynamic and allowing you to vent about back at Twisted Wonderland gave you good vibes about them. They’re polite guests, and they have given you advice on how to improve your work. Tiana has (once) invited you to work for them if you wanted to work at another job, but you tell them that you have school. They’re immediately concerned, because someone going to school working at a job with very demanding and colorful characters? You assure them that you’ve manage to balance school and work, however they seem less than convinced. Though nothing big changed, they occasionally remind you to take breaks and to have fun watching the cartoons on screen when you’re not busy waiting tables. (They also give you candy from their time! Butterfingers, anyone?)

Hades: He’s a frequent guest at the House of Mouse. You had lent an ear to his complaints, and then again, and then again, and soon enough you’re his personal therapist. You’re the go-to waiter whenever Hades shows up; much to the delight of the staff (The penguin waiters are...a little scared of Hades). It’s surprising how little he seems to reflect Ignihyde. He’s like a shut in extrovert. However, when you tell Hades this, he becomes very interested in your world. He’ll let you ramble about what you know about Twisted Wonderland, and he’s going to make smug comments about it. After that encounter, Hades starts conversations with you that isn’t just complaining about his siblings. In fact, he’s one of your pep talkers when you’re feeling stressed or down.

The Darling Siblings: If you don’t recognize them, they’re the siblings from Peter Pan! (Wendy, John, and Michael) When you first met them, they acted very polite. And they gave “children, protect them” vibes. As you continue to work, you discover that the children had a more playful side to them. You could easily joke with them and in exchange Wendy would tell you stories or John and Michael would tell you about their recent adventures.

Scrooge McDuck: Donald introduced him to you, actually. He mentioned, “Since you sound like you’ve been on a lot of adventures, I think you might like to share stories.” How right he was. Scrooge’s stories were captivating and enchanting, you’d always be on the edge of your seat hearing them. Whenever he swung by and you were on break, you two would be swapping stories of your lives. He was most interested in your first day story; about the magical chandelier specifically. You always look forward to a new story he would have.

Of course there were others, but the ones listed above were the people you loved seeing.

Today was a typical night in the House of Mouse, though everyone seemed...a little agitated?

You ask Mickey, and he explains that there was a reservation for a villain get together...and last time, it went poorly.

You offer to serve them as a waiter, since you’re sure that you can handle it.

“Are you sure?” “I’ve dealt with worse characters...I think. By the way, can I get the list of who’s going?”

You find out Hades was the one who reserved it (oh thank goodness, someone you’re already familiar with. And he likes you)

He’s also bringing - “I’m sorry, can you repeat that?” “The Queen of Hearts, Scar, Ursula, Jafar, The Evil Queen, and Maleficent.” “I-“

Imagine your shock when you find out Hades is bringing all of the Great Seven. You’ve already met Maleficent, but someone like the Queen of Hearts, or the Beautiful Queen??? You’re ready to walk to your doom right now.

When the doors open, you go about your night as usual, though your on edge as you anxiously wait for the Great Seven to arrive. This would be the first time you would be interacting with most of them.

When they arrive, you greet them and take them to their table, doing normal procedure.

However, things go south when Hades asks Yuu to come and have a chat with them when they go on break.

“yeAH suuurrreee-“ “Great! They have a lot of questions and I think they’d like to hear what you have to say!”

Yuu is making high pitch dying screams when she gets to the kitchen.

“Oohhhh my god, they want to talk to me. What if I mess up? What if they dislike me and then try to kill me? Oh no oh no-“

Yuu is trying not to scream in excitement and stress as Mickey excuses her to talk with the Great Seven.

The meeting? It goes well.

When they ask about their world, Yuu describes their time at NRC, and how the villains were praised as good people, and were known as the “Great Seven”.

They were very intrigued about this, and would always puff up when Yuu praised them. They also ask questions about Yuu as well!

What? They’re villains, but they’re not rude.

They listen to your tales, and are sympathetic to the idiots that you surround yourself with. They get it, they are also surrounded by idiotic, self centered heroes who think they’re in the right- (projecting much?)

The Queen of Hearts is a lot more than you expected; she’s strict, but she also has good humor (as long as you don’t mock her). When you ask what kind of tarts she likes, she responded with “Any kind of tart, however jam filled tarts are one of my favorites.”. You wonder if she’d like the tarts Trey would make.

Scar...isn’t talkative, though he seems very pleased when you talk about what NRC thinks of him. He’s actually kinder to you - you’ve heard stories from Goofy and the penguins waiters that Scar is hard to please.

Ursula is what you would call a sweet talker. Kind of like Hades, but you can tell that she wants something. You indulge her, answering any questions about your world. She seems particularly interested in the rivalry between NCR and RSA, however.

Jafar wants to know everything about Scarabia. From it’s current standing to it’s history. You try your best to explain as much as you know about the dorm; but you mention that your information is limited since it wasn’t your dorm. He’s satisfied with what you give, but Jafar tells you that next time, he’d like to know more. You better go study up on Scarabia now :) (Or ask Kalim or Jamil about Scarabia)

The Beautiful (Evil?) Queen acts smug, and she seems relaxed around your presence. Maybe it’s because you told her that she’s known as the Beautiful Queen? She wants to know who is housed in her dorm, and like Jafar, she wants to know everything about Pomfiore. When she heard about the VDC, she asks multiple questions about it. (“When the VDC comes around, maybe I shall grace everyone with my presence...hmm, or should I help NRC’s team? I mean, they would represent me, of course.”

I’ve actually mentioned that you have met Hades and Maleficent in this ask

Hades and Maleficent consider you as friends (maybe not close friends, but friends nonetheless)

The rest of the Great Seven also have positive opinions on you; and they try their best to live up to your expectations! They can’t have you turn your back on them after you openly praise them!

You’re dragged away from your job - instead you focus on entertaining the Great Seven! (Which was fine, Pete was at it again by trying to drive out the guests; you kept the Great Seven in so they could still run the show!)

As the night went on, you felt yourself getting less and less nervous about being with the Great Seven. You had loads of fun!

Of course the show ended sooner than you liked; and it was closing time.

“It was really wonderful to meet you! Maybe we’ll see each other again when the House of Mouse opens again?”

“Why would we wait for nighttime? I have a magic portal to travel to Twisted Wonderland whenever we’d like.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

Turns out Maleficent had an easier way to travel to Twisted Wonderland; but she gave you a sparkling gem. She told you that when she gave everyone (The Great Seven) a way to travel to Twisted Wonderland, they’d surely visit you. With the gem, it will sparkle and shine a certain color when they do.

The color? Well, of course it would be the dorm colors! It would be easier that way, would it not?

So, in the near future, the Great Seven would be able to visit you.

What do you think? You’re not against the idea; but the idea of one of them showing up during class is going to be a nightmare.

Oh well, future you will worry about that.

You thank Maleficent and go about returning to your world.

Before you get to the mirror, Mickey stops you.

“Hey, I just wanted to thank you for making sure the villains stay, it was a lifesaver and you saved our show.” “No...problem?” “Haha, our club would’ve been toast if they left! Thank you again!” “...Your welcome?”

And then you departed from the House of Mouse, immediately crashing onto your bed. Lazily, you take a glance at your mirror, wondering when you’ll see the Great Seven.

Then you promptly fall asleep.

[itsclydebitches]

I am briefly pausing my normal RWBY content to talk about something completely different: Kang Soo-Jin. 

I binged True Beauty recently. As in, “I haven’t managed to watch anything new in half a year, discovered this drama, and promptly marathoned 14+ hours of content,” so to say I’m enjoying it is an understatement. I might do another post sometime about why I think the show works so well, but for now, like many (drama only) viewers, I’m specifically grappling with Soo-Jin’s descent into antagonist territory. At first I was just as shocked and disappointed as others seem to be, but upon reflection I don’t think this is badly written in the way many fans are claiming. To frame this as, “I can’t believe they would make wonderful Soo-Jin suddenly OOC and bully Ju-Kyung over a guy!” is ignoring core parts of her character. I’m as sick of the girl-hates-girl-over-guy plotline as the next viewer, but in the interest of acknowledging that there are exceptions to every rule, I think this is one of the times where that choice makes perfect sense. 

Soo-Jin has been abused throughout her life and I’m not simply talking about the fact that her father hits her. Though that’s obviously horrific, what I think is more pertinent to this conversation is the intense competitiveness her parents have instilled in her. The physical abuse comes about because Soo-Jin fails (in their eyes) to be the best, which is where Ju-Kyung comes in. The Soo-Jin we knew in earlier episodes wasn’t faking. She isn’t an inherently evil person who was just waiting for the right time to show her true colors. Rather, at the start of the story Ju-Kyung—crucially—was not in competition with Soo-Jin. Or rather, Soo-Jin did not perceive her as competition. She’s after the best grades in the school and Ju-Kyung is notoriously at the bottom of the class. All she has going for her are her (new) looks and her easy-going personality that makes her popular, two things that Soo-Jin isn’t interested in. Even if she were, those things already come naturally to her too. She’s already friends with Soo-A and, as is commented on multiple times, naturally beautiful without any makeup on. Soo-Jin has been taught—literally had it beaten into her—that she must be the best and in the beginning of the show she pretty much is: popular, mature, confident, smart… just not the smartest in her class. Ju-Kyung doesn’t threaten any of that, so friendship initially comes easily for Soo-Jin, the sort of friendship that allows her to chase perverts off busses or hide her friend’s real face. 

This changes once Soo-Jin’s “perfect” mask begins to slip. They’re heading towards college, she’s running out of time, and she still hasn’t managed to take the top spot in the class. Worse, she drops out of the top ten. This exacerbates the abuse to the point where, as we see, she’s constantly in the bathroom trying to cope by washing her hands. Any tiny deviation from that “perfection”  — like, say, leaving your tutoring session when you realize your lifelong friend just got devastating news — results in the sort of yelling/physical abuse she can only escape from via a locked door. While things get worse on her end, they get better on Ju-Jyung’s. Her grades go up some and she becomes even more popular, attracting not only school-wide attention, but the attention of the two hottest guys too, including Soo-Ho. For a while this is still fine from Soo-Jin’s perspective, but things really take a turn when Ju-Kyung changes Soo-Ho. Meaning, she helps him come out of his shell and teaches him how to be a kinder person… which includes being a better friend to Soo-Jin. The Soo-Ho who suddenly lies and announces that they have to go study just to get Soo-Jin away from her father’s insults, all of it stemming from a small tick he paid attention to, or comforting her while she sobs over the abuse… that Soo-Ho didn’t exist at the story’s start. He was too wrapped up in his own grief and has been that way for a long time. They may have known each other since childhood, but Soo-Jin and Soo-Ho don’t appear to be particularly close in the past—all Soo-Ho’s flashbacks are with Seo-Joon and Se-Yeon. But that starts to change once Soo-Ho himself changes. Soo-Jin’s ability to keep it together is unraveling, Soo-Ho is opening up and becoming more emotionally available (something Soo-Jin even comments on), then her whole class starts eagerly talking up how good they would be as a couple… so Soo-Jin sees a lifeline. Soo-Ho will care for her even when no one else will. Of course he will. She’s already seen him be that person multiple times. 

The problem is that Soo-Ho has his own life and his own problems to grapple with. Between grief over See-Yeon, panic over telling Ju-Kyung how he feels, and the initial rush of dating—what couple doesn’t want to spend all their time together at the start?—he doesn’t have much energy for Soo-Jin. Which from his perspective is fine. They don’t normally hang out together outside of study groups, so yeah, he can put off a conversation with her… not realizing that Soo-Jin is now putting all her emotional eggs in his basket. By the time her feelings are coming to light, Soo-Jin is actively sabotaging her own attempts to get attention and compassion from Soo-Jin. By manipulating them—here’s a new scrunchy to remind you that you’re my best friend and you can’t ever betray me, here I am showing up unannounced at your apartment and guilting you into not spending more time with me, etc.—Soo-Jin has put Soo-Ho (rightfully) on his guard. He’s wary of having a private conversation with her about something she won’t name when he knows Ju-Kyung has been a mess over losing her friendship. He has no desire to listen to her confession of love after she’s just tossed Ju-Kyung’s beloved necklace into the fire. In her efforts to ensure that Soo-Ho pays attention to her, she only succeeds in driving him away. 

All of which makes Ju-Kyung the enemy in her eyes. The new competition. To her mind, friendship and love cannot co-exist because Ju-Kyung stands in the way of that love, therefore one has got to go. (In contrast Seo-Joon, coming from a loving family, is in time better able to accept that he can be friends with Soo-Ho even though he likes Ju-Kyung. We can discuss the problems inherent in giving one plot to the girl and the other to the guy, but as they are, these characters have concrete, in-world reasons for their different reactions to what’s essentially the same situation.) And why does love (“love”) win out over friendship? Because Soo-Jin has latched onto Soo-Ho being her boyfriend as the way to finally “win” at life and fix all her problems. It’s fine if she’s not the best provided she’s dating the best, just look at how much Dad fawned over him. Second place academically is suddenly an option provided the top student is on her team, so to speak. The fact that Soo-Ho is also one of the most handsome, a great athlete, super rich, and one of the few people to provide her with feelings of safety certainly doesn’t hurt matters. And the only thing that stands in her way of securing this life-saving “win” is Ju-Kyung. Who is she? No one compared to Soo-Jin. Her grades are terrible. She’s not wealthy. She’s pretty… but oh, only with her makeup on. 

Soo-Jin doesn’t need makeup, so why not win this competition by showing the whole school—showing Soo-Ho—what a fraud Ju-Kyung is? 

From Soo-Jin’s perspective she’s done the math and come out on top. Everything that (supposedly) matters she either has equal to Ju-Kyung, or is superior, therefore it’s obvious that Soo-Ho would choose her in the end. She says at much: If I had confessed first you would have loved me first, so now that I have confessed you’ll break up with her. Hell, even Ju-Kyung believes this. She has the nightmare about Soo-Ho learning that Soo-Jin has feelings for him and immediately, publicly breaking up with her. After all, if he suddenly has both as an option the winner is obvious, right? It’s all about competition, what they’ve been taught to believe is a competition: Ju-Kyung through her bullying and Soo-Jin through her abuse. The difference is that Ju-Kyung has had the whole series with Soo-Ho (and others) helping her slowly unlearn this mentality. Soo-Jin had the rug pulled out from under her in an instant. 

Soo-Ho says no, I wouldn’t have loved you if you had confessed first and I’m not going to date you now. It’s important to realize that this shatters Soo-Jin’s entire world. It’s not about a girl being upset that she can’t get the guy — not even about Soo-Ho as an individual, really —  it’s about an abused girl not knowing how to grapple with the fact that she finally did everything “right” and still couldn’t “win,” coupled with losing the last bit of security she had. Soo-Ho broke the unspoken rules Soo-Jin’s father beat into her and she doesn’t know where to go from there. She literally has no one else to turn to. So she falls back on the only way she does know how to handle a situation like this: by still trying to win. If Soo-Ho won’t admit that she’s better, she’ll force him to realize that by plastering Ju-Kyung’s “ugly” face all over social media. Which, to be clear, isn’t an excuse. This isn’t meant to be a way of absolving Soo-Jin of her absolutely horrific actions, only a means of explaining them. Her descent, while shocking to those of us who loved her initial character, is well written because it’s a nuanced look at what can happen when you abuse a kid her whole life and teach her that competition is everything. Oddly enough, she’ll apply a competitive outlook to everything and deal with her stress in unhealthy ways. Ju-Kyung is a victim of Soo-Jin now, but Soo-Jin is a victim too. Her home life has ensured that she does not know how to accept failure—or what true failure even means—so it was inevitable that when things got bad, she’d  try to fix it in ways that hurt both her and those around her. It’s all she knows how to do. 

So far less “Perfect girl goes ooc and abandons her friend over a boy” and far more “Abused girl falls into a terrible, but predictable cycle that the other stressed high schoolers around her are not equipped to break.” Soo-Jin’s story isn’t bad writing, it’s tragic. Thanks for coming to my three page TED talk ✌️

***

2/4/21 FINALE UPDATE! 

[imonthinice]

The Criminal Psychology Majors, Jason Todd x Fem!Reader Part 2/?

Word Count: 2k

Author’s Note: Y/N - your name, A/N - any name (your best friend’s name)

Warnings: Swearing, no beta bitch we die like Jason Todd

Welcome Back! I have, once again, written more of Jason Todd because he’s a fucking teddy bear and I love him.

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9) (Part 10) (Part 11) (Part 12) (Part 13) (Part 14) (Part 15) (Part 16) (Part 17) (Part 18) (Part 19) (Part 20)

Y/N and Jason both returned from that date feeling all giddy about each other, but trying their dammed-est to not let their hopes get too high about the other. However, that was extremely, extremely hard for Jason to do with family like Dick in his life. It’s like coming home to a hopeless romantic of a shipper as a nosey bitch. Lovingly, of course. No one’s like Dick.

“So, Y/N?” Dick asked Jason immediately as he entered the Manor.

“Yeah, what about her?”

“So, many questions: Was that a date? If no, will there be a date? Is there going to be a second date? Do you like her? Do you think we’ll like her? Does she know you’re Bruce Wayne’s son?” Dick rambled at his little brother.

“Okay hold on god damn, yes it was a date, yes there will be a second, yeah I think she’s cool and I like her, slow your roll Circus Boy, I don’t know when she’ll meet you lot, I don’t think she knows who I am, she’s from Metropolis, so I don’t think she knows the Waynes well.” Jason answered Dick with confidence.

“So you like her!” Steph mocked as she entered the hallway, probably heard her brothers talking about Y/N, so she wanted in on it. Somehow she had evaded Jason’s gaze though, so she startled him immensely.

“Jeez, how many of you will scare me today? And yeah, dumbass, I like her. But I’m doing this magical thing called ‘Not getting my god damn hopes up about her since it’s only the first date’ you hopeless romantic fucks.” Jason barked at them.

“Yeah, but you love us.” Dick said.

“That might be true, but your meddling is only going to cause chaos, Dick and Steph.”

“What about my meddling, Jay?” Bruce asked. Once again, he had heard the talking about Jason’s new crush and decided he’d parent the boy on his girl. Jason jumped out of his skin, because, he had once again, not seen Bruce enter the hallway despite his best efforts to not get startled again.

“You, are going to give me a heart attack.”

“Looks like this girl let your guard down.”

“Can we just go on patrol and stop badgering me?” Jason muttered under his breath.

“Nope!” Barbara exclaimed. Clearly, there’s a pattern with Waynes escaping Jason’s attempts to not get startled today, “We’re still going to badger you, Jay,” Barbara finished.

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

When Y/N made her way back to A/N, she couldn’t help but turn her radio as loud as she could and try to take the longer journey back home. Pieces of quiet and tranquility always surprised and drew her in. Like a good book on a Sunday morning before the rest of the bustling city of Gotham or Metropolis awoke itself. If New York never sleeps, she thought, then what the hell do Gotham and Metropolis call themselves. She laughed.

There were a few good things about Gotham, like the people you’d meet on the street at 4am were some of the weirdest but kindest people you’d ever know. It’s like the city radiated off of the energy of the people in it, and in spite of the villains constantly hitting the city with their worst, somehow everyone never let it get to them. It was admirable. Metropolis was the same in that avenue, but it didn’t feel like the cold Gotham streets.

Y/N thought Jason was one of the kinder people she had met in her travels and classes. And she never thought that she’d meet someone she liked this much in her criminal psychology class of all places, but hey, the universe had different pen strokes for her.

She went and parked her car in the driveway of the rental house she and A/N shared. Only the two of them shared it, but if either of them lost their jobs, they’d be looking for another roommate immediately. Pulling out her bag which was full of notes written by Jason, the original notes written by her, and binders upon binders of criminal cases she was looking into at the time, she would get out of her car and begin walking to her door.

Of course, like most people, she would kick off her heels the minute she walked through the doors of the house, to which, A/N paused her music and went to go question Y/N about Jason.

“So, you know how this works, babes, lay it on me, how’s hottie? Is he kind?” A/N pondered.

“He’s so kind, he paid the printing fees for my notes and rewrote all of them, I guess it’s a system for us now. I write the notes in class while he tries to take it all in, we meet up, and he rewrites them all and pays the printing fee.”

“He paid the fee?! At that college?” A/N said, completely shocked.

“Is that shocking?”

“Well, the printing fees are so fucking expensive, hun. Mans must have daddy’s money to do that.”

“Really? Well regardless money doesn’t matter, he’s kind and I can make a name for myself if I graduate at the top of my class.” She said, fully believing this. Smart woman. She knew she could do it.

“I believe in you, do you have homework tonight? I can make dinner for you so you can study.” A/N offered.

“Nah, I’m just going to go file my notes and shower, I’ll come join you and help after.”

“Well, don’t drown.” A/N joked.

“Do you know how much effort that would take?” She laughed as she walked towards her room, once she got there she pulled out her papers and began the slow filing process of them into her desk.

About 2 minutes into this, she got a text:

Hey stranger.

If someone had a heart monitor hooked up to her, they could have bet their last penny on her heart skipping a beat. 

Hey Jason. She sent back.

I had a fun time today with you, do you want to do the same thing tomorrow, I could use your fast writing skills to get by in classes. And I just like talking to you. What do you say?

She thought. Maybe something legit is here, hopefully I’m not just used for notes. She worried about that, since she was just a tad insecure about him. He was pretty. She knew she was a looker, sure. But he was something more.

I would love to go on another budget date with you.

Budget? Actually yeah, I guess it is budget lol. Maybe next time I’ll actually take you out to lunch like I said I would.

I, honestly, completely forgot you said you’d take me to lunch, I was just having fun as we were talking.

Me too. You’re a hoot.

A hoot? That’s a book nerd statement if I’ve ever heard one. She joked. She didn’t actually know if he was a book nerd at this time, but they had been joking the entire time when she was filing her notes. She was no where near done filing her notes, Jason was a distraction from that, it wasn’t that important, she would end up finishing it later. She just liked some semblance of organization so she didn’t have to put it off.

I’ll have you know I’ve probably read more books than you.

Well book nerds are cute.

Eventually the messages from Jason and Y/N started slowing, Y/N assumed he was tired or working so she took her chance to file her notes and start running her shower.

Sorry Y/N, this has been fun but I’m going to get really sparse with replies, I got work to do.

That’s fine! Where do you work, by the way?

And she got into the shower. Halfway through her shower her phone pinged, she assumed Jason was texting back, so when she finished her shower, before she even got her towel on, she decided to answer him:

I work at Wayne Enterprises with my dad. It’s quite fun.  He had said.

Oh! I’ve heard the owner of Wayne Enterprises is a lovely man, have you met him? She asked him back.

And within an instant, he answered.

He’s my dad, so yeah.

You’re the Jason Todd? Heir to the Wayne Manor and Wayne Enterprises? She started thinking back on what A/N had said. Yep, she thought, Daddy’s money indeed. She started to slip into her pajamas, which were literally a mess and not put together, because this is the real world, not every girl has matching sets, when he answered:

I hope that doesn’t change much, Y/N.

Explains the camera I saw but didn’t mention, and that’s about it.

You saw the cameras? Damn it. I tried to shield you, they may have pictured us together, sorry.

Worth it for a lovely date. I’ve seen worse, my mum works with Clark Kent, who I guess you probably know since he’s Bruce’s best friend, and the paparazzi loves to take Clark’s picture.

Oh yeah, Uncle Clark. Yeah, the pap love him. You get used to it. I guess you somewhat know my family lol.

Nah, that’s about all I know. Wasn’t really interested in drama about you lot because it’s just not my business. Probably not a shared ideal with the general public.

She finished getting dressed and went to go cook with A/N, and share the news.

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

“Girl! You were right about daddy’s money oh my god,” Y/N said when she entered the kitchen.

“Go on,” A/N urged.

“You know Jason Todd? Guess what. That’s hottie from Crim Psych 101.”

“Are you serious? That’s insane. You’re probably plastered across the internet right now for that date,” A/N laughed, “are you scared to date a famous man?” She asked.

“No, he’s really sweet and if this gets serious, I can just block out the flashes.”

The two of them laughed and started cooking. A/N was Latina, so, of course, she was in charge to cook most nights. But Y/N made killer desserts and pizza. Tonight was fajitas, so Y/N kind of sat bat and let A/N do her thing. Trying to know more so one day A/N wouldn’t have to do all the work, Y/N went onto the internet and the first thing she saw?

Globally Revered Son of a Millionaire, Jason Todd, out on a DATE with a Mystery Girl?

Like clockwork, Jason answered:

I guess I have a lot to teach you, and I hope you haven’t been on the internet recently.

I have. Globally Revered Son of a Millionaire. She texted back.

Fuck those damn tabloids. He said, she couldn’t help but agree, the paparazzi seem like they’re very invested in stories that aren’t theirs to tell.

Can’t agree with you more. We should put on a show for them tomorrow, actually give them something to write about.

I like your thinking.

You’ve opened up a lot today.

Is it your turn now?

What do you want to know? You asked him before turning to A/N.

“Tabloids talk too much,” you sneered at her.

“Cat should get their tongue and choke on it,” she finished, “did you at least look cute in their pics?” she asked.

“Somehow. Wasn’t even posing,” Y/N finished.

“Well, food’s done, are you still hungry?”

“Always.”

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

Jason turned to his brother, Dick, Nightwing, and said, 

“She knows now.”

“That you’re rich?” he asked.

“Yeah, I guess I have to be more wary of her now,” he sighed, “I hope she’s not in it for the Wayne fortune.”

“Doubt she is if she agreed the tabloids can suck it, Red Hood.”

“I pray you’re right.”

He then drew his guns and fired at the ground underneath their laest venture into crime-fighting. This was gonna be one hell of a ride Y/N embarked on, not even knowing what she was getting into.

[lingthusiasm]

Transcript Lingthusiasm Episode 59: Are you thinking what I'm thinking? Theory of Mind

This is a transcript for Lingthusiasm Episode 59: Are you thinking what I'm thinking? Theory of Mind. It’s been lightly edited for readability. Listen to the episode here or wherever you get your podcasts. Links to studies mentioned and further reading can be found on the Episode 59 show notes page.

[Music]

Gretchen: Welcome to Lingthusiasm, a podcast that’s enthusiastic about linguistics! I’m Gretchen McCulloch.

Lauren: I’m Lauren Gawne. Today we’re getting enthusiastic about whether you’re getting enthusiastic about theory of mind. But first, our most recent bonus episode is on translation in fiction – mostly translating between human languages and non-human languages but all kinds of translation.

Gretchen: You can get access to this translation episode about some books we’ve been reading recently and 50 other bonus episodes by becoming a patron at patreon.com/lingthusiasm. Here’s a bit of a preview into the books we talked about.

Lauren: We talked about Semiosis by Sue Burke, and A Memory Called Empire by Arkady Martine, as well as The Devil Comes Courting by Courtney Milan. And, Gretchen, you have read Native Tongue by Suzette Haden Elgin.

Gretchen: I have finally gotten around to reading Native Tongue, which has been much recommended to me.

Lauren: A classic piece of linguistic sci-fi.

Gretchen: You don’t have to have read any of these books beforehand. We don’t provide plot spoilers, although we’ll talk about some of the things in the setting. It’s fun whether you’ve read any of them or not at all. You might end up with some new things to read.

Lauren: You can get access to that episode and all of our bonus episodes at patreon.com/lingthusiasm.

[Music]

Lauren: Gretchen, I’m gonna run an experiment on you.

Gretchen: Okay, I like experiments.

Lauren: Excellent. This one involves a lot of a set up, but it’s great because you can do it. If you are listening along, you can also do the experiment along with us.

Gretchen: Great! What’s our set up?

Lauren: We have Sally and Anne.

Gretchen: Okay.

Lauren: Sally has a basket. Anne has a box. Sally has a marble – Sally with the basket – and she puts her marble into the basket. Then she goes out for a walk. Sally’s not here. But we’ve got a basket with a marble in it.

Gretchen: Sally’s not here. We’ve got her basket with the marble in it. Okay.

Lauren: We’ve got a box, and Anne is still there. Anne takes the marble out of the basket and puts it in the box.

Gretchen: So, now we’ve got a marble in a box.

Lauren: We’ve got the marble in the box. Sally comes back, and Sally wants to play with the marble. Where is Sally going to go to get her marble?

Gretchen: I’m going to deduce – based on the fact that when Sally left the room, she left the marble in the basket – she probably still thinks the marble is in the basket because she’d have no reason to assume that things would’ve changed, and so she’s gonna try the basket first because she doesn’t know that Anne has moved it.

Lauren: That is a perfectly reasonable deduction to make. You are a veritable Sherlock Holmes.

Gretchen: Thank you. Did I pass the test?

Lauren: You did. You completed what is known as the “theory of mind test” because you kept track of what you knew about the situation and what Sally knew about the situation and all the sneakiness that Anne had perpetrated with the marble.

Gretchen: But presumably at some period earlier in my life, when I was a very young child, I might not have passed this test.

Lauren: The ability to correctly articulate what you know about Sally’s likely chances of going to the basket or the box really doesn’t settle into being reliable until 3 or 4 years old – actually being able to articulate what you know about the state of other people’s thinking.

Gretchen: Which feels kind of late because 2-year-olds, 3-year-olds already have quite a bit of language in most cases, and yet this later reasoning about mental states and what different people know about different things comes along later.

Lauren: That’s what the theory of mind test seems to indicate. It is a bit more complex than this. This is something that was run for the first time 30 or 40 years ago. There’s been more work that’s tried to do versions that don’t involve language; they just involve looking. They show that toddlers, 15 months old, are actually maybe better at paying attention to the fact that the marble is in one place or another and what Sally might know a little bit better than they can articulate. It’s something about being able to put it into words that seems to be one of the challenges that takes until, as you say, well into language acquisition to be able to do this task consistently.

Gretchen: This task feels like something that some experimenter set up in a lab, and maybe they had puppets, or maybe they had two different experimenters, and these props feel very psychology-experiment-prop style to me.

Lauren: What do we have in the props department, yeah.

Gretchen: It’s funny. I was reading a different paper about these types of experiments, and there are other ways you can test for theory of mind. One of my either favourite or least favourite, depending on this, is – oh, shall I do it on you?

Lauren: Okay, yes.

Gretchen: I have a box. It’s a small cardboard box. The outside says “Kinder Chocolate Bars” – chocolate things.

Lauren: Great. I’m very compelled by this box.

Gretchen: We have our friend Gavagai, who is also in the room and sees this box with the chocolates on it. Gavagai is called out, suddenly, to leave to go do something else.

Lauren: Bye, Gav.

Gretchen: I open this box, and I show you that inside is not, in fact, chocolates, but it is pencils – coloured pencils.

Lauren: Okay, I was gonna say that’s a bit of a disappointment, but it’s something of a disappointment to me.

Gretchen: They’re coloured pencils, which is something more exciting than graphite pencils. But still, they’re not chocolates. Then I close the box up again, and it looks like it’s closed. Then our friend Gav comes back in the room.

Lauren: Hi, Gav.

Gretchen: What does Gav think is in the box?

Lauren: Well, I know that it’s pencils. But Gav wasn’t here when I saw that it was pencils. Gav still thinks it��s chocolates, and boy, are they in for a disappointment.

Gretchen: Yes, they are. You can do this about location of item, which is the Sally-Anne test, which is about location, or you can do it about identity of item – what’s in it.

Lauren: I have a colleague who’s done the theory of mind task with little stones instead of a marble, but then there’s a whole other twist where the stones end up being those little nuggets of chocolate that look like stones. I just feel like I would be confused by that point about who knows what about the state or location of this rock chocolate situation.

Gretchen: I remember I loved those stones as a child because it felt like you were gonna break a tooth on them, and then you would eat them.

Lauren: You could definitely do some fun false belief with someone about me eating dirt.

Gretchen: There’s also a fun one in this study where they found – and I don’t know where they got this object because I have not seen an object like this – they have this little toy that looks like a race car, like one of those cars that you “vroom vroom” on the table. But it turns out when you press a button on it, it turns into a pen. A pen-thing pops out. They’re trying to see does this person think it’s a race car, do they think it’s a pen. Somebody’s really going around in toy shops being like, “Okay, what here could be deceptive?”

Lauren: Keeping track of people’s knowledge states, as we’ve said, is something that takes a little bit of effort. Not all animals can necessarily do it. In fact, when we find animals that are really good at this, people get really excited. There are animals that are closely related to humans, like chimps seem pretty good at this. You can basically do a version of the location of an object thing, and the chimps are all over it. Also, ravens are really good at conceptualising where someone might be and what they might be doing. It’s one of those skills that isn’t just like – well, first of all, you get theory of mind and a bunch of other things, and then you get language. It’s not just an ingredient in the language cake. It’s just one of many skills that humans and animals closely related to humans seem to have but also is scattered throughout the animal kingdom.

Gretchen: Corvids are pretty smart, I guess. They can recognise people, so maybe they can also – if you feed them, they’ll become your friends.

Lauren: We’ve run a very classic theory of mind experiment at the top of this episode, but as we suggested, people have been pulling apart exactly what theory of mind is and how different people do different elements of it. It seems to be this complicated cluster of features around attention, attention-tracking, false belief, mental states, and being able to do all of this is part of being able to do the social element of language.

Gretchen: Because when you’re talking about language, you’re describing what other people have done. You’re thinking like, “Okay, why did this person behave this weird way this time?”, or “Why did this person do this thing to me?”, “Why can’t I get this?” You’re trying to figure out, well, it’s because this other person wants this thing even though that’s not what I want. Or it’s because this other person knows this thing even though it’s not what I know.

Lauren: Even just the process of asking a question, like, using language to interact with someone to try and get to an end goal and whether or not they are likely to have the right information that I need to get this question answered. Theory of mind is the having really good foundations on the house of language, and it’s part of why I’m always very zen when people talk about computers taking over the ability to do language. It’s like, well, first of all, a computer has to be able to keep track of their best guess of the knowledge state of everyone else in the interaction, and that’s not necessarily the same kind of programming task as figuring out sounds or morphemes or syntactic structures.

Gretchen: It’s interesting because it is a theory – not like the theory of gravity where scientists have hypothesised that minds might exist – but in the sense that, whenever we’re interacting with the world, we’re hypothesising that the people around us have intention behind what they’re doing, and they’re doing stuff for reasons. I have to hypothesise that you, Lauren, have a mind because I don’t actually have direct evidence that you have a mind. Maybe you have actually been Lauren-bot this entire time!

Lauren: True, true. I am operating under the same premise. I have my own theory. It’s not a shared theory, necessarily. We all have this internal idea that the people we’re interacting with in conversation are also doing the same mental calculation that we are.

Gretchen: I remember having this realisation that people have other mental states, and maybe they conceive of the world dramatically differently from how I do. Maybe this thing that I see that I call “red” isn’t actually what someone else is seeing even though they also call it “red.” I remember having this philosophical realisation when I was about 12 or so, and thinking, “How do we know anything that we’re seeing things.” And yet, even though I don’t have empirical evidence that you aren’t just an extremely sophisticated automaton – I mean, I do have a lot of empirical evidence, actually, because automatons aren’t that good yet – but we still manage to interact with people. We still manage to operate under a working theory that people do have minds and they are interactable with.

Lauren: People have drawn a link between this kind of cognitive foundation and the need for language by looking at the way early human ancestors learnt to socialise with each other. Instead of having small packs of humans, you ended up getting these larger and larger groups. Once you have these larger groups, you have to have some way of maintaining social cohesion that’s not just small-group dominance. Robin Dunbar is probably one the most famous proponents of this idea that language is a way of maintaining social cohesion and that you can keep a happy social relationship with more people essentially through gossip – gossip being one of the mechanisms that helped generate the need for language.

Gretchen: I mean, it’s useful to know can you trust this person because they were trustworthy last time or have they been going around and doing things that are not trustworthy or is this someone that someone else is willing to vouch for. There’s lots of reasons why language can help with cooperation.

Lauren: In the absence of being able to time travel, I quite like this theory of one of the ways that humans came to use language.

Gretchen: I’ve actually been thinking about Robin Dunbar’s theories for a different reason. Because he has this very famous 150-size social group number, which is the size of a lot of villages or small communities or small companies or small conferences. It’s the magic number for that kind of community. But also, there’s this other number that Dunbar and colleagues have also researched, which is four. That’s the number of people that conversations tend to max out at before they start splitting into smaller conversations.

Lauren: Ah, this makes a lot of sense when I think about small group chat at parties and the ebb and flow of when people join or leave conversations. I think that must also explain why trying to have all of your friends in one big video chat room at an online party is really stressful.

Gretchen: Exactly. This also shows up in fiction. It shows up in plays. It shows up in movies that people tend to max out at four conversation participants. The reason for this has to do with theory of mind, which is that we find it too cognitively exhausting to keep track of the mental states of too many people.

Lauren: In a specific conversation.

Gretchen: At once, yeah.

Lauren: So, I can vaguely keep track of, like, 200, 150 people in my social village, but in terms of the moment-to-moment what-do-you-know-about-the-story-I’m-telling, three or four people is enough for me to keep track of.

Gretchen: There’s a really interesting test of this which is that Dunbar and colleagues did an experiment where they asked people to talk about an absent third party and speculate about that absent third party’s mental states. When people were instructed to use that for their conversation, they tended to form one smaller conversational grouping, so maximum of three instead of maximum of four, when they were just asked to talk about what the absent third parties were doing but not what they were thinking.

Lauren: I’m deeply fascinated by – this is experiment is “Please come into this lab and gossip.”

Gretchen: Right. I don’t remember exactly how they set it up, but yeah, something about the maximum number of mental states that you can conceive of without getting too tired is around five, but that means four people because you’re also keeping track of, like, between you and me, we have three mental states. I’m thinking about me, I’m thinking about you, and then I’m also thinking about what you’re thinking about me.

Lauren: This is why the language that we use to talk about internal mental states does particularly interesting things in grammar. You begin to see theory of mind affect the way that we do grammar because verbs that express internal mental states act a bit differently to other verbs.

Gretchen: English actually has this interesting grammatical distinction between how we talk about mental state verbs versus action verbs in the present tense. We say something like, “I know,” “I like,” “I understand,” “I enjoy,” “I fear,” but for action verbs, we’re more likely to say something like, “I am running,” “I am walking,” “I am talking.”

Lauren: Oh, yeah, “I walk,” implies an “I walk every day” habit thing.

Gretchen: Right. Whereas “I know” doesn’t imply “I know every day.” There’s just this subtle distinction between how we talk about verbs in the present. In the past, we don’t do this. You can say “I liked” and “I walked,” and that’s the same, but in the present, we have this interesting distinction that’s made in English that isn’t necessarily made in other languages.

Lauren: That only really works for first person in English. It’s a bit weird to say this about other people, especially the person who you’re talking to.

Gretchen: It’s another thing that’s weird about verbs about mental states where it’s sort of weird for me to be like, “Lauren, you like cake.” I mean, I guess –

Lauren: I mean, you definitely have enough evidence to support that as a viable statement. I think in the context of us interacting, it would be fine, but it would very weird to say it to someone who you didn’t have that knowledge for.

Gretchen: If I just go up to someone in a coffee shop who’s eating cake and say, “You like cake,” it’d be like, “Excuse me, but who invited your opinion here?”

Lauren: I think this is one of the things I’ve had to learn in teaching over the years is it’s very easy for me to be like, “Well, you know this because we covered it in class last week.” I just assume that everything we covered in class is completely absorbed into your knowledge state.

Gretchen: You mean your students don’t have perfect downloads of every single, you know, audio file of your voice?

Lauren: In much the same way that we don’t assume that people have absorbed every single fact from Lingthusiasm when we bring them up a couple of years later.

Gretchen: Absolutely. You don’t retain this. It’s easy to be like, “I’ve told you once,” and like, “Yeah, that was years ago, I don’t remember everything that happened to me years ago.”

Lauren: It’s why you end up finding a lot of question forms for second person in verb paradigms when you’re trying to do this elicitation because it’s much more comfortable for people to reframe what you’ve said as a question.

Gretchen: I think when we’re used to doing this decontextualised form of grammar as linguists, we’re like, “Oh, yeah, okay, I can make a verb paradigm: I like; you like; he/she likes; we like; you-plural like; they like.” Yeah, fine, I can just make this little paradigm for me. But the social context in which you would use each of these forms is actually really different.

Lauren: I mean, now that we’ve said that I can definitely think of contexts where it would be fine to say it in English with a direct “You like” or “You know.” I think there’re definitely where it would be safe to say it to a child that you are very close to like, “I know you like toast. We ate toast for breakfast yesterday.” Lo and behold, they like toast. They just need to be reminded of that.

Gretchen: But even there you were like, “I know you like toast,” which is sort of not quite as committed to the statement as “You like toast.” Or if you wanna say to a dog or something like, “You want your dinner? Yes, I know you want your dinner. You’re gonna have your dinner. Here we go.” But it’s, I think, to say to an adult – I mean, maybe if I walk in on you in your office, and I’m like, “Oh, you’re busy. I’ll come back later.” Or like, “Oh, you’re reading. You’re on the phone. I’ll come back later.” There’re certainly contexts in which you could do it, but you have to do a lot more contextual set up.

Lauren: I love how much set up you had to do to get to that as a valid way of using an internal state verb directly at someone.

Gretchen: Whereas if I say, “Yeah, I know. I like cake.” This doesn’t require any set up. This is just the unmarked thing to do.

Lauren: This is why we separate out these verbs about internal mental states or “psych verbs” as they’re sometimes called and look at them separately to other verbs in English. Because talking about someone else’s mental state changes the way that we can use them in grammar.

Gretchen: Some psych verbs come in pairs. You can say “I like cake” or “Cake pleases me.” Or “I fear dogs,” “Dogs frighten me.” In both cases, you’re having the same relationship between the two entities, but the verb flips, which you don’t always see with actions. Sometimes you see it with actions like “I buy this from you,” “You sell it to me.” But it seems to be one of the things that happens with internal mental state verbs.

Lauren: They also tend to have more variation across languages and across cultures as to how you can use them.

Gretchen: Yeah. There’s a really interesting and subtle example of this in English and Spanish where in English it’s less common to say something like “You understand” with the meaning of “I infer you understand based on the evidence of you seeming to understand.” Whereas in Spanish, you have a verb that seems like it should correspond to English “understand,” but it is reasonable to use that verb to mean “I infer you understand because you’re asking really good questions” or “I infer you understand because you are making noises of comprehension and you’re nodding and so on.” It’s reasonable to say to someone “You understand” with the meaning, like, “It seems to me that you understand” or “I observe you to be understanding.”

Lauren: That is a subtle but important meaning distinction, I feel.

Gretchen: I heard this anecdote from a linguist who – I don’t remember which linguist anymore – who said that they’d told this to somebody – an English speaker and a Spanish speaker who were in a marriage together – and they both spoke each other’s languages, but they didn’t have an understanding that this was actually a pragmatic difference between them. Sometimes, they would get in fights by like, “What do you mean you say I understand? You don’t know what’s going on in my internal mental state. You’re just assuming what I know.” Which was actually a systematic pragmatic difference in how the languages use those particular mental state verbs rather than a case of just not understanding between the partners.

Lauren: That is amazing. The thing I find really interesting about that anecdote is that the distinction between the two forms of “understand” was really implicit between the two languages. I’m really interested in those grammatical features where knowledge state becomes very overt. That’s essentially what motivated me to study how we grammatically track source of information, which is the area of evidentiality. We had a whole episode on that that I will not assume you’ve listened to, and I will not assume you remember anything from, but essentially, evidentiality is used to keep track of, depending on the language, whether you know something because you saw it or because someone else told you about it or maybe you’re not entirely certain about it. This is marked as a feature of the grammar rather just being implicit or optional.

Gretchen: In English, you have the option of saying something like, “It’s raining,” “I can see that it’s raining,” “I can guess that it’s raining because I can hear the rain drops,” or because someone’s walked in, and their shoulders and umbrella are all soaking wet. You can say all of those things to indicate the source of your knowledge, but you don’t have to. You could just say “It’s raining” and let someone else figure out how you came to know that information.

Lauren: Whereas if we look at a language like Yolmo in Nepal that I’ve worked with, you can actually see someone’s knowledge state changing throughout the story that they’re telling because maybe they start with talking about something in a way where they’re not certain if this cake is going to be delicious, and then they talk about how someone told them it’s going to be delicious, and then finally, they have direct sensory evidence of how delicious the cake is. You see how the knowledge about the cake being delicious is really clearly marked by the grammatical choices that they have to make throughout the story. It means that I can keep track of someone else’s source of evidence in a way that’s more direct than in English. It means that people are more attentive to mine as well.

Gretchen: So, if you wanna say something like, “I infer that you understand,” you would be doing that with the evidential marker. Or “You told me that you understood this yesterday, so why don’t you understand it today,” then you’d have a lot of ways of marking the differences between those internal mental states.

Lauren: Yes. And those internal state experiences of if someone’s unwell or if someone’s hungry, I have to mark them differently if I don’t have any direct visual evidence. If you’re unwell, and you’re shaking and feverish, I can say that I can see you’re unwell. But if you’re unwell in a way that I can’t see, I have to use other grammatical ways of marking it. How you interact with other people’s internal states varies because sometimes you don’t have access to a direct source of evidence for it.

Gretchen: I feel like I’m just picturing those little cartoons you get in language learning textbooks where they have test very stereotyped representations of common illnesses that don’t have obvious physical things. Like, “I have a headache” would be like a person holding their head in great distress or with a hot water bottle on their head, and you’re like, “I don’t put a hot water bottle on my head when I have a headache.” Or like somebody who has a thermometer sticking out of their mouth or something to indicate these sort of things that aren’t really easily visually represented.

Lauren: It’s because figuring out someone else’s internal state is actually a really complicated cognitive task that we do, and we fall back on these tropes to help us navigate that.

Gretchen: I guess same for teaching other types of mental state verbs, you know, “know” or “understand” or “like” or something. You have these maybe very stereotyped or symbolic representations. If you have someone with a heart or something, maybe they’re liking it or loving it. But it’s difficult to do a picture of “I know,” “I understand.” Not everything is easily visualisable.

Lauren: You talked earlier about how it was a revelation for you at some point that maybe we can’t really know what’s happening in other people’s minds. There is a lot of cultural variation as to how much people are willing to feel like they’re able to intuit the internal states of other people – so much so that there’s a whole area of anthropology that looks at this idea of cultures where it’s really prevalent to assume that you can’t know someone else’s internal state. That’s the starting point for building social interactions.

Gretchen: This is the inverse of the Spanish thing where it’s like, “Yeah, I can infer your mental state.” This is like, “Nobody can really know what anyone else is thinking at all.”

Lauren: It’s a cultural assumption and starting point for building conversations and interactions that I’m gonna assume that I can’t know what your internal state is. I can only make reference to it by very overtly flagging that I don’t know that. I might talk about your actions rather than my assumptions about the thoughts behind those actions.

Gretchen: So, what does it look like in practice if someone’s operating under the assumption that you can never really understand what’s going on in someone else’s mind?

Lauren: A lot of the anthropologists who work in this area tend to look at the domain of gossip. I like to think of it in terms of – it just means that you’re unlikely to have gossip that goes along the lines of “What were they even thinking?” Instead, your gossip is more about the concrete actions of people rather than rationalising their mental state while they were doing those things.

Gretchen: Okay. So, not like, “This person had good intentions, but this thing didn’t work,” or “This person never cares about other people’s feelings, and so therefore…,” but it’s more like, “Oh, this person did this thing – ate my cake.”

Lauren: Yeah. I mean, assuming someone has good intentions is something that presumes that you can know what’s inside someone else’s mind.

Gretchen: It’s like, “This person ate my cake. I don’t care why they did it, but that’s what happened.”

Lauren: That tends to be more of the focus that gets talked about or that people might come upon by using strategies like grammatical evidentiality as a like, “You can’t know what’s in my mind, so let me tell you that I know that it’s raining because someone said or because I saw it.” Like, “Let me do that work for you of telling you my state of knowledge rather than you trying to guess something that you can’t guess.”

Gretchen: So, it’s not necessarily a thing of “We’re not talking about mental states,” but the person is the ultimate authority on their own mental state.

Lauren: Yeah. I think this area of opacity of mind is looking at commonalities between what are actually very different ways of approaching understanding people’s internal states because perhaps culturally we’ve just gone with the assumption that everyone thinks about social interaction the way we do and that maybe there’s a lot of variation there.

Gretchen: Lauren, are you saying we have bad theory of mind about theory of mind?

Lauren: Potentially. But I think learning about theory of mind as a bedrock and then opacity of mind as the way people approach this bedrock has made me more appreciative of keeping track of what people might know or not making assumptions about what people bring to any particular interaction. I really appreciate knowing about theory of mind for that reason.

Gretchen: I think practicing figuring out, okay, what are some possible mental states here, what might be going on. This is one of the things I really like about fiction, especially, reading books is you do get to be behind someone else’s eyes and thinking about what they’re doing and why they’re doing it even if their reasons for doing something are really different from what I would think. I find filmed stuff, unless there’s a lot of voiceover – I love voiceover because you can get into someone’s mind. Not everyone’s a fan of voiceover, but I love it because it gives you that internal mental state. I don’t just wanna look at someone’s face and think, “Oh, this is what they’re thinking.” I wanna be behind their eyes and thinking, “Oh, they actually think this is a good idea. Okay. Well, I’m along for this ride now.”

Lauren: I think fiction is a really great philosophical experiment. It’s one of the reasons I really find sci-fi to be interesting is because it can push the limits of what another mind is or what another mental state is to be thinking in. One thing we didn’t get to in the bonus episode about Arkady Martine’s Memory Called Empire is that there are people who have the capacity to take on the entire previous knowledge state of someone else. I just am like what would an evidential marking system be like for a person who has multiple consciousnesses worth of evidence for a statement.

Gretchen: Like, “I know this because my original consciousness knew this” or “I know this because the consciousness that I got added to mine later in life knows this.” Oh, man.

Lauren: There’re just so many layers of potential knowledge state there. That’s the kind of sci-fi that lets me bring my linguist brain to problems of consciousness.

Gretchen: I’ve been thinking about this from a practical level as well recently which is what’s the point of having a conference compared to just reading some blog posts or something about the same topic. I think it’s about that conferences create a state of shared knowledge among their participants. You know that everyone else was also at the same talks or in the same environment or is interested in the same topic, and so it gives you springboards for having conversations about topics of mutual interest rather than just “I’ve acquired this information.” It’s “I’ve acquired this information in a social context where I’ve also acquired a bunch of people to talk with about it.”

Lauren: I’ve never quite thought of conferences in that way, but that is a very wholesome, linguist-brain way to approach it.

Gretchen: Well, it’s partly why digital conferences can be unsatisfying because if you don’t know who else is in the audience and you don’t have any way of spending time with them then you don’t get to have that shared mental state with the fellow conference participants. You’re just receiving the knowledge in a way that you could do without the conference structure at all.

Lauren: I think that speaks to the way that approaching theory of mind allows you to just be more generous in the way you conceptualise other people’s intentions or their motivations or their actions, which is one thing I really appreciate about it.

Gretchen: I also think that there’s – I mean, this is definitely not in the canon of theory of mind – but it’s part of this thinking and reasoning about other people’s mental states. It’s also what the mental state is that you impose on someone else by reacting to something.

Lauren: Okay. I’m now very conscious about whatever I say in response to this anecdote.

Gretchen: I’m sorry. An example of this is the xkcd comic “Lucky Ten Thousand,” which reads, “I try not to make fun of people for admitting they don’t know things. Because for each thing ‘Everyone knows’ by the time they’re adults, every day there are, on average, 10,000 people in the US hearing about it for the first time.” And there’s some calculations. “If I make fun of people, I train them not tell me when they have these moments. And I miss out on the fun.” Then the little comic strip – this is two people – one says, “Diet Coke and Mentos thing? What’s that?” And the other one says, “Oh, man! C’mon we’re going to the grocery store.” “Why?” “You’re one of today’s lucky ten thousand.” Some of my friend groups have adopted “lucky ten thousand” when someone mentions like “Oh, what is this book?” or “What is this thing?” rather than say “Oh, you haven’t heard of that? What?”

Lauren: I can actually tell you exactly how Gretchen says it because Gretchen said to me when we were preparing for this, “Oh, you haven’t heard of the ‘Lucky Ten Thousand’? Oh my gosh, do I have the link for you.”

Gretchen: [Laughs] Exactly.

Lauren: It was so nice to not feel embarrassed to not know every comic in a canonical webcomic series and to be introduced to this very excellent one.

Gretchen: It makes the conversation happen in a much more positive way because then – you know, nobody’s read all the books. Nobody has done all of the things. You can have the conversation of “Oh, well, what did you like about it?” or “What is interesting about it?” without the shaming version of the conversation of “Why haven’t you done this?” or “What’s wrong with you that you don’t know this thing already?” I think this is a similar thing that happens when you create things as well, like “I wrote a book” or “on this podcast.” Sometimes, we’ll say something there or give some – like, here’s a set of examples or something. And sometimes people will reply, “Oh, I listened to your thing,” “I liked your thing and here is this other example for you.” Like, “Here’s another thing that you might like.” That frame is a really positive way of having that conversation and is something that I can then share with other people and say, “Oh, here’s this other thing that people might be interested in.” I can retweet it. Or “Here’s something else going on.”

Lauren: I always feel bad when people phrase it as though we have deliberately omitted something for nefarious reasons when it’s often just that we have a finite amount of time and there’re many languages.

Gretchen: Also, we don’t know everything. Sometimes, someone tells us about a new example.

Lauren: Sometimes, we get to be one of the lucky ten thousand for a topic in linguistics, and it makes us very happy.

Gretchen: The thing is, is the intentions are generally really good. People are excited to share things. They’re excited to talk about things. It’s just this common way of responding to things that doesn’t end up leading into the conversation that you wanna have and with a slight tweak could totally do that like the “lucky ten thousand thing.

Lauren: I also think about this modelling other people’s mental states and knowledge. I think one of the peak activities for that is creating a forwardable email.

Gretchen: Ooo.

Lauren: For those of us who spend a lot of time on email, occasionally, someone will say, “Cool. I’m glad we’ve agreed to do this thing. Can you put the details in a forwardable email so I can send it to the rest of the group?”

Gretchen: Right. Or “Can you introduce me to this person. Here’s why I think they’d be interested in talking about it.” And I’ll say, “Okay, I’ll write a forwardable email. I can send it to them, and then they can decide if they wanna talk to you,” or something like that.

Lauren: Me and this other person know that this email exchange has happened. I now need to write a single, useful, context-filled email that that person can forward on to the group that they want to do the thing with or someone that I am hoping to be introduced to. It requires me to think about what I know, what the person who asked me to do this email knows, and what this third person, who hasn’t been part of any of the prior conversation but needs all of the relevant context, needs to know. I just think that the mental state modelling involved and the mentalising what this person who hasn’t been part of the conversation needs is like Dunbar’s mental representation stuff as, like, multidimensional chess.

Gretchen: Because you end up saying – like, to the person you’re actually emailing, you’re telling them all of this information they already know, and that’s why you can sometimes specify to someone like, “Oh, yeah, please send me an email that I can forward to this person.” If I’m receiving a forwardable email, I know that you’re repeating information that I know, and it’s not patronising in this context because you know that I know that I’m gonna forward it to this third person who doesn’t know these things and so, therefore, that’s why you’re repeating this information that I already knew. There’s so many levels of understanding what other people are gonna potentially think in there.

Lauren: This is why, before we even get to thinking about language, we have to think about the cognitive processes that allow us to know where the marble is, to know if someone thinks cake is delicious, or to go to put everything into an email.

[Music]

Gretchen: For more Lingthusiasm and links to all the things mentioned in this episode, go to lingthusiasm.com. You can listen to us on Apple Podcast, Google Podcast, Spotify, SoundCloud, YouTube, or wherever else you get your podcasts. You can follow @Lingthusiasm on Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, and Tumblr. You can get IPA scarves, “What the fricative” mugs, and other lingthusiasm merch at lingthusiasm.com/merch. I can be found as @GretchenAMcC on Twitter, my blog is AllThingsLinguistic.com, and my book about internet language is called Because Internet.

Lauren: I tweet and blog as Superlinguo. Have you listened to all the Lingthusiasm episodes, and you wish there were more? You can get access to 54 bonus episodes to listen to right now at patreon.com/lingthusiasm or follow the links from our website. Patrons also get access to our Discord chatroom to talk with other linguistics fans and other rewards as well as helping keep the show ad-free. Recent bonus topics include the linguistics of Pokémon, backchannelling, and translation in fiction. Can’t afford to pledge? That’s okay, too. We also really appreciate it if you can recommend Lingthusiasm to anyone who needs a little more linguistics in their lives.

Gretchen: Lingthusiasm is created and produced by Gretchen McCulloch and Lauren Gawne. Our Senior Producer is Claire Gawne, our Editorial Producer is Sarah Dopierala, and our Production Manager is Liz McCullough, and our music is “Ancient City” by The Triangles.

Lauren: Stay lingthusiastic!

[Music]

📷

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License.

[aliensunflower-fics]

Marinette’s Big Fall: An angsty Prompt

[ I have had not one. Not two. But THREE anonymous asks for some Miraculous ladybug angst with a pinch of salt SO here you go. Also because people keep asking me if they can make fics from my prompts I will just put here that YES you can I will love you if you do, please just tag me so I can squeal. I always love fan-art and I always love fics based off my ideas just go nuts guys. ]

If you asked the students of Bustier’s classroom what happened that sunny tuesday at 1:36pm they would all tell you it was an accident. None of them had meant for anything to happen and none of them had so much as laid a finger on the dark haired girl. It was just an accident that was all, but still their faces would lose blood and they would shake as they remembered the sight of Marinette Dupain-Cheng laying still as a stone at the bottom of the stairs. If you asked them to start at the beginning they would take a shaky breath and start their tale at the first warning bell of the school day, before Marinette had arrived and when Lila Rossi did.

The italian had for months been telling them of Marinette’s misdeeds and though many were proven to be false it seemed like not a day went by where Lila didn’t have some new to say about the bakers daughter. That days newest tale was about how Marinette had ruined Lila’s photoshoot at the park with Adrien. It was suppose to be a romantic shoot for valentines day and Marinette had arrived at the park where it was taking place with little Manon. Lila claimed that Marinette bribed the child into pushing Lila into the fountain during the shoot thus ruining the whole thing and making her look bad in front of the employer. Now hearing this story the students of Bustier’s class felt mixed Marinette was prone to fits of jealousy but would she really bring a child into it? Some were angry at Marinette for her repeated felonies some were unsure and one other a certain Adrien Agreste still had no idea what everyone meant about Marinette being jealous and while he knew that Lila had ended up in the water and that it was Manon who did it... He also knew for a fact that Marinette was in no way involved.

The debate over Marinette’s innocence would last until the young designer arrived then the class would fall into steely silence all fuming and grumbling trying to justify the Marinette they knew and loved with the jealous green eyed monster Lila suffered under. As they day wore on Alya always the seeker of truth began badgering Marinette trying to get to the bottom of the whole affair, and while Marinette admitted to being at the park and admitted to babysitting Manon and yes she even confirmed that Lila wound up in the fountain she claimed no responsibility arguing that little Manon had just wanted a hug from Adrien and had accidentally shoved the italian. This information spurred only new arguments though they happened without Marinette’s knowledge in back and forth messages when the teachers back was turned. Lila meanwhile continued to weave her web sending her own messages to the class with new accusations and ‘evidence’ something had to give as the tensions rose and at exactly 1:00 when Mme. Bustier stepped out something did give indeed.

No one really remembers the argument only who was leading it. Alya was a good person a bit too trusting and maybe a bit too gullible and brash but she always protected the weak and thats why Marinette loved her. The problem was right now Alya thought the one who needed that protection was one Lila Rossi. Marinette did her best to diffuse the situation she argued that it was a child’s mistake that Lila should let it go. Alya argued that Marinette always had issues with jealousy and that she needed to fess up and apologize. Marinette would no apologize for something she didn’t do and so the argument continued, classmates joined in things got more and more heated in the spur of the moment with everyone yelling and Lila sobbing Alya snapped and said two things she never should have. One she told Marinette they were no longer friends unless Marinette stopped being jealous. And two, she revealed just why Marinette was ‘jealous’ her crush on Adrien Agreste. The moment the words left her mouth Alya was hit with regret, the moment she saw embarrassment in her friends face and tears hot and fresh welling in her eyes she was hit with shame. No one spoke as the bakers daughter let out a choked sob but suprising them all it wasn’t an accusation of anger at Alya for outing her secret that left the dark haired girls lips it was a quiet shaky and broken:

“W-Were not friends a-anymore?” Followed by yet another choked and heartbroken sob.

Before Alya or anyone could answer the girl bolted for the door shaking with sobs. Everyone stood shocked still for a moment before Adrien bolted up and rushed after the girl the rest of the class followed. But they never reached Marinette in time. In her distressed state the pigtailed girl had tried to make a break for home but she was clumsy and clumsier still when upset so when she rushed down the stair she tripped and everyone could only watch in silent horror as the bakers daughter only managed to let out a gasp before her body slammed into the hard concrete. When the students of Bustier’s recalled everything later they would note with some shock that it was Chloe who moved first yelling out Marinette’s name, not her last name no, just her name as she rushed down the stairs and to the dark haired girls side. She noted the young girl wasn’t responding and quickly snapped for Sabrina to phone an ambulance while she continued to monitor Marinette. No one else would move, Alya would cry silently and in horror as Chloe called out to Marinette and checked her pulse, Nino would clutch his hat and stare mouth agape as Marinette lay like a lifeless corpse, Adrien Agreste would fall to his knees at the top of that stairs his eyes like saucers as he tried to comprehend what had happened. And Lila Rossi? She would feel every bit of blood in her body turn into ice as guilt gripped onto her and told her that this, all of this was because of HER.

Everything that happened next was a blur, the ambulance arrived Marinette was driven away with Chloe of all people. The police arrived, Bustier and Damocles felt there sweat turn cold as they were questioned, the other students of the school would stand around murmuring and pointing at the Akuma Class Rose would hear the kinder people ask what happened in hushed tone, Juleka would hear the crueler people say that the Akuma class had tried to kill the one person they couldn’t akumatize. Soon enough parents arrived and dragged away their children Kim and Alix would notice the small patch of blood on the concrete where Marinette landed, they would later puke thinking about it, but they told no one of what they had seen.

Meanwhile on the way to the hospital Tikki was in a panic, her dearest chosen her most precious and rare creation soul was BROKEN so many bones and bits of her body were mangled beyond repair... Well beyond NORMAL repair but Tikki was a god, a sentimental god at that and she would not let heaven or hell get in the way of her helping Marinette survive no matter the cause. And so sitting silently, hidden in the girls hair out of sight of the paramedic and Chloe who was telling them all she knew of Marinette’s medical background Tikki used her magic to mend all she could, she would make sure that her sweet precious Marinette would be alright but while she mended the broken body Tikki knew that there would be a price to pay. Magic always came with a price. In the past when she’d used her magic to heal holders this way some had lost their eyesight, others their voices, some would lose a limb, Tikki had no idea that cost Marinette would pay but she knew whatever it was her precious little bug would be alright.

And she was. The doctors were shocked to find that while Marinette had a broken leg and two broken ribs, some deep cuts that would never fully heal, and some awful bruising that would leave the girl sore for who knows how long she was in fact just fine. There was no internal bleeding, and no serious brain trauma, and somehow she’d be just fine to walk when her leg healed up. Sabine and Tom cried tears of joy at the news and stayed by the young girls side. Tikki was also pleased with the news from her hidden spot where she lay utterly exhausted. She knew still that their would be a price to pay but at least Marinette was alive and well. The bakers daughter did not wake up until early the next day and when she did she was mobbed by her parents. She smiled at their concern and when the doctor came in to greet her he decided to check her memory.

“Standard procedure.” He said. “It’s not unusual for there to be some minor memory loss surrounding the incident itself were just going to check.”

And so the questions began. They started with things like her birthday, and her parents names and ages, then they moved on to recent events, so far no problems. Finally they asked about the day itself and the ‘incident’ in questions Marinette opened her mouth to answer then paused thoughtfully. She couldn’t remember. Not unusual assured the doctor, and then he returned to asking other questions probing gently to ensure everything was alright, and it seemed to be up until the doctor asked a simple question.

“What’s your best friends name? And can you describe them.”

Marinette froze and stayed silent. Tikki suddenly felt a strange twist in her tummy. Sabine and Tom looked at their daughter uncertainly. Finally after a long pause. Marinette spoke with a strained laugh.

“I uhh dont remember having one sir.” Sabine felt her stomach suddenly drop, hidden away behind a plant Tikki felt the same thing.

Concerned by the answer the doctor probed more with Tom and Sabine joining in. The answers were startling. Marinette Dupain-Cheng had forgotten every single person that was present when she fell down the stairs. She could recall other students at the school and her teacher, but all the students of her own class? She could not recall their names or their faces. When her parents asked about a specific memory the first time Nino and Marinette met and became friends. Marinette’s eyes lit up. She remembered the event, she remembered someone being bullied and helping them and then they became friends. Her parents were hopeful and the doctor calmly asked Marinette to tell them who the bully was and who the person being bullied was. At that all Marinette did was frown and hold her head. She could remember the incident but... The faces of the bully and the one being bullied were blacked out she had no idea who they were. They tried asking her if she knew the bullied boys favorite things, she had no idea, his name? Nothing. Favorite color? Nope. It was odd extremely so and the only theory the doctor could offer was trauma based memory lose triggered by stress and the possible incident surrounding her accident.

Later when her parents left and it was safe. Tikki emerged and was overjoyed to learn that Marinette remembered her and being ladybug. Tikki was a bit worried about the holes in her dear chosens memories but she knew that this was the price Marinette had payed. She got to keep her life and all her limbs and eyes but she had lost something precious, her friends, they were now black holes burned into faded memories. And it extended into her superhero life. Marinette knew Rena Rouge she could remember her powers and her skill, but when Tikki asked who she was Marinette could only frown and hold her head as it throbbed. Alya, Nino, everyone even Adrien were gone, Marinette had the memories but no faces, no names, no attachment she had lost her friends. Tikki felt guilty of course and told Marinette as much but the young girl just kissed her Kwami’s head and confidently said that they would figure it out.

It had been a week sense Marinette’s big fall. And the students of Bustier’s class sat restless in their seats. None of them had been able to check up on Marinette as her parents had forbidden visitors and the bakers themselves were illusive now a days as they kept close to the hospital keeping their daughter company. All anyone knew was that Marinette was alive, and while that was great news it wasn’t enough. And to make matters perhaps more odd then Marinette’s disappearance was the complete inactivity by Hawkmoth. It was as if he was busy dealing with something else. Like maybe his teenage son who had been expressing all of his teenage rebellion and angst in a concentrated dose ever sense a certain bakers daughter had fallen down the stairs. Adrien was indeed the most miserable about the whole situation, he’d given up on bathing, moped all day, snapped at Lila for even opening her mouth, and was refusing to care for himself or attend any and all photoshoots and extra curricular activities. Adrien’s rebellion was causing big problems for Gabriel’s business and he was stuck rushing about trying to re-organize events and juggle his son who had become terrifyingly good at escaping the house to go to school no matter what kind of locks were installed.

As the day wore on for Bustier’s students ignored the looks given to them by the other students in the school. More then a few of them blamed them squarely for what had happened to Marinette while others shot them looks of sympathy or concern. The class as a whole looked like they were from a bad zombie movie, but the one who looked perhaps the worse of them all was Lila Rossi, while some would try and argue its because of how bad she felt for poor Marinette others would recognize that she seemed paranoid and on edge with her eyes darting about and how quick she was to defend herself against even the smallest assumed accusation against her. Finally lunch rolled around and like the mob of zombies they were the students of Bustier’s class walked mindlessly to the cafeteria that is until one of them spotted a familiar looking girl though her hair was no longer in pigtails and her clothing had changed it was undoubtedly her! The class rushed forward with a surge catching the attention of the whole school who watched the exchange curiously. Apologies were hurled out questions were yelled and poor Marinette looked overwhelmed silence only came when Sabine stepped forward with a warning look though there was an odd glint of pity and sadness in her eyes. Finally it was Alya who broke the silence.

“Marinette! We are SO sorry, please can you find it in your heart to forgive us?” The Ladybloger was holding back tears and no one had heard her voice that shaky before. After a long pause Marinette spoke.

“U-Umm... Hey listen I dont... Really know what your apologizing for... And uh I dont really know who you are but... Umm sure of course I forgive you! You seem very nice?”

The crowd was stunned. Marinette had no idea who ALYA was? Her best friend? The girl she’d fought with last? Sensing the tension in the room Tom gently guided Marinette away shooting Sabine an odd look. Both parents had hoped that seeing her old school would jolt Marinette’s memory but it seemed that even her best friends face wasn’t enough to bring back what had been lost. As Tom helped Marinette climb the stairs with her cast. Sabine took a deep breath and proceeded to explain what she could. That Marinette had lost... Some memories, specifically relating to people who had been around during her accident... She didn’t remember any of them and no one not even the doctors or Tikki herself could change that. As Sabine apologized for what must surely be a shock she excused herself to follow her daughter and husband to the principles office so they could discuss the situation.

For the students of the akuma class life felt like it had been turned sideways. Lila who had been consumed by guilt had begun to hyperventilate. Alya felt slapped and raw her best friend had no idea who she was and the last thing she had done before Marinette forgot all about her was denounce their friendship. For Kim and Nino their were tears and disbelief the girl that they had known sense childhood had no idea who they were and regarded them like any stranger on the side of the road. For Chloe there was the oddest feeling of heartbreak, now she would never know if Marinette could truly forgive her, because the Marinette to whom she’d been so cruel was all but gone. But it was perhaps Adrien who was hit the hardest, Adrien who had learned that Marinette liked him the day of the accident, Adrien who had watched her fall, who had not rushed to check on her, Adrien who had felt torn by guilt confused about his feelings, Adrien who felt like the world had lost the sun with Marinette gone, Adrien who had wanted Marinette to come back so he could see she was okay and ask her on the date she deserved, and now Adrien who meant nothing to her because she had no idea who he was.

As for the rest of the students of Dupont? Well many of them were overjoyed to know Marinette remembered them at least but they felt pity for the akuma class but many others wondered what the future held. Would Marinette’s old friends try and rekindle their friendships? Would they bring photos and music and videos to try and bring back the girls memories? Or would new friends take the place of the old and forgotten? Would Adrien continue down his path of rebellion fighting for a place in Marinette’s heart once more, or would he return to being a docile lamb under his fathers thumb his heart and mind numb due to the shock of it all. Would Lila Rossi return to her old ways? Would she crack under the feelings of guilt and shame? Or would she go mad and attack Marinette. How many people would forever flinch and rush to offer Marinette help whenever she so much as when near a flight of stairs? Would it be possible to anyone to reclaim Marinette’s lost memories or would new ones need to be made? No one knew. But they did know for certain that things would be different from now on.

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[cixthotshit]

Gon Gonie

Pairing: Lee Byounggon/BX x Original Female Character|Reader

Genre: Smut, Fluff, just a drop of Angst, College/University AU, Friends to Lover (established)

Summary: Getting BX to see that she had a crush on him was a lot more work than Piti had thought it would be

Word count: 4.3k

Rating/Warnings: Mature / Explicit Sexual Content: Porn With A Sprinkling of Plot, Kissing, Nipple Play, MtF Vaginal Sex

Author’s Note: This is a sister fic to an NCT fic of mine at my NCT fic blog. You don't have to read the original fic to get into this one, don't worry! You can read this as a stand alone one shot fic. But if you're here cuz you read my Yuta fic first, OK, I didn't plan to write this, but I couldn't help myself. I love BX and I had a lot of fun writing this! Sorry if I have any grammar mistakes, I try my best when proofreading but things always slip through. I always appreciate some feedback on my writings!

Piti tucked a little of her yellow tshirt under her left boob, the underside of her breasts were sweaty. She bent down under her desk to check the connection of her computer and webcam before reaching behind her to pull her cotton pink shorts down. It was riding up her left butt cheek. Her fuzzy pink slippers made her toes sweaty, so she kicked them off, letting them roll over toward her wooden coffee table.

“I mean, I think I did it right,” she said, glancing behind her to see BX adjusting the lighting to the lamp she’d purchased 2 weeks previously. “If I can’t stream tonight, I’ll just tell Willa that I wasn’t meant to be a CamGirl. It sounds like such easy money.”

“You already have a big following on Insta,” he replied. “I thought you had sponsorships.”

“They don’t always pay,” she said, sitting on her desk chair. “Thanks for trying to help. I didn’t know who else to call.”

“No problem,” he said, his eyes fixed on the lighting in her living room. “At least you’re nice to me.”

“Suchin’s mean to you too?” Piti asked, laughing. BX had always received fairer treatment from Piti’s elder sister, but BX was much kinder to Suchin than Piti ever was. It was unfair for Suchin to be mean to BX.

“She’s been mean to everyone,” he answered. He sighed, pulling his phone out of the back pocket of his skinny jeans. His eyes were glued to the screen as he sat down onto her baby blue couch. “She says that she’s stressed. I’m stressed too, you know?”

“What’s up?” Piti asked, walking away from her desk, which was set up beside the door to her balcony. She walked to the couch that sat beside her desk.

Sitting down next to BX, Piti took his left hand into her hands. There was a Bandaid wrapped around the top knuckle of his middle finger. She grinned, remembering when they’d FaceTimed in the morning. He’d cut his finger while cutting up an apple. For as long as she’d known him, he was prone to accidents.

They met when she transferred to a new university the previous year. He had always been her older sister’s friend, but she got along well enough with him that she could text or call him to ask about tech issues she had. Pressing her lips together to moisten the corners of her bottom lip, Piti had to admit that he’d become more than just her go-to tech person in the recent months.

Since starting his Film Studies, BX had come into contact with Piti more. He was filming partners with her sister. She was often trying to get Suchin’s attention, mostly asking her for help. Suchin had been busy directing and interviewing subjects for her documentary, so BX had become more reliable. He’d been the one to talk her through clearing out the clogged sink in her kitchen while he cleaned up the flesh wound on his middle finger.

His head rested against the back of the couch with his fingers half hidden behind the loose sleeves of his oversized grey sweater. His eyes remained glued onto his phone when she ran the tips of her fingers against his palm. Piti swallowed air as her eyes remained fixed on BX’s tongue licking his lips. The red of his lips reminded her of the Thai chili peppers she’d put into the curry she made for dinner. Her tongue burned with a sharp heat, remembering how hot the curry had been.

“I know our professor sucks,” he spoke up, his damp lips glistening under the lamp light. She released his hand, realizing he didn’t care what she was doing to his hand. The shaggy fabric of her periwinkle throw pillow cushioned her lower back as she rested her back against the couch. “I don’t know if film school is working out. Maybe I should have gone for medical studies. Do something in social sciences.”

“You’re still young,” she said, grabbing his hand again, giving it a squeeze.

His tone had sounded tired, more like he was thinking out loud instead of having an actual conversation with a human being, a very cute one too. Piti would remember never to give Film Studies a try if she wanted to keep her stress levels low. She bounced in her seat when he squeezed her hand back. Their eyes locked, and she gave him a half grin.

“You can change your career path whenever you want. Why do you think I want to give OnlyFans a try? I don’t know how long I’ll be this cute with such pretty tits.”

He gave a dry chuckle, his eyes returning to the illuminating light of his phone. His mouth was frozen into a handsome grin. Piti ran her free hand through her hair to stop herself from reaching out to touch the dimple on his cheek. She shifted herself to brush her chest against his arm, her heartbeat thumping rapidly up her back.

“Thanks for helping me,” she said, shifting her eyes to peer toward him. His eyes were lidded as he seemed to be reading something on his phone. “You help me out so much.”

“Come on,” he said before giving a scoff, tutting his tongue against the back of his teeth. His grin widened as his eyes returned to meet hers. “Of course. Any time.”

“Can I help you with anything?” she asked. She squeezed his hand again. “I’m sorry you’re stressed.”

“Thanks for listening to me complain,” he said, setting his phone down on the armchair.

“Please,” she said, rolling her eyes, pressing herself closer to him, “that’s hardly anything. Um, BX?” She squeezed his hand again. His face seemed to be coming in closer. The scent of Coke was infiltrating her nose as the warmth of his breath tingled her lips. “Do you think I’m cute?”

His lips touched hers, and she shut her eyes. Her entire face flared up in prickling heat. Her mind could only form curse words together as they flashed behind her eyelids in bold red letters. An overwhelming pressure built up in her chest, making her sinuses tingle uncomfortably.

He wrapped her into his arms, his hold warming her up. She broke their kiss, placing her hands onto his shoulders as she gave out a sob. Hot tears rolled down her cheeks.

“Piti?” he asked, barely above a whisper. “Am I a bad kisser?”

“No, silly,” she replied, snorting a sob when she inhaled a breath. She shut her eyes as BX gave out a belly laugh. She groaned as she threw her face into his chest, fisting her hands into his sweater. “I like you so much, BX.”

Her voice was muffled, but she was completely embarrassed, unable to look up. She’d never liked anyone as much as she liked BX. When she’d realized that she liked him she did her usual flirting tactics. She put in extra effort into her looks when she met with him, such as when she called him to ask for assistance to set up her new webcam. It never failed to get her hookups’ attention whenever she was looking her most desirable.

Her yellow top was old, so the fabric was loose and slightly transparent. The hole at the hem near the left side of her hip was supposed to be tantalizing, she certainly always ran her fingers to play with the fabric there. The soft yellow and pink together made Piti feel like she was a colorful candy, ready to be unwrapped. But he seemed immune, uninterested.

“And it makes you sad?” BX said, his tone going low. His hold on her loosened.

She looked up at him, and the nerves in her jaw lit up, sending a warm sensation down the front of her throat. His gaze was soft, his lips barely parted. Tilting her head up, she gave a sniffle before kissing him. She shut her eyes, furrowing her eyebrows as she opened her mouth to capture his luscious bottom lip between hers. His tongue licked her lips, making her insides squirm like fish caught in a net.

“I like you,” she said again, pulling away from his kiss, the inside of her ears burning up. She’d never wanted to be the first person to admit to having feelings or attraction, but she knew there was more to her attraction to him than physical attraction. “I’ve been putting on my cutest clothes. I always make sure my hair is all bouncy and curly. And like, you never look at me.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, his dimple deepened as he smiled widely, touching his forehead to hers. “My mind’s been focused on the doc.” He paused. She shut her eyes as the warmth of his hand cupping her cheek sent a shiver down her back. “Holy shit, Piti. You like me?”

She opened her eyes and felt goosebumps form along her arms. His gaze was soft, and his eyes slowly drifted down her neck to her body. When his eyes met hers again she nodded gently.

“I’ve never wanted like, a boyfriend,” she confessed, her cheeks hot and her nipples hardened as heat surged down to her stomach, “but I don’t even know how many nights I’ve been going to bed thinking about you. And like, when you finally kissed me, like, I’m so embarrassed. I want you to like me back so much.”

“How can I not like you?” he asked. His thumb caressed her cheek, making her body warm up. He gave her a chaste kiss. “You’re always feeding me those rice balls with tuna. You thank me for the smallest things. We made that study playlist together and we split the songs up evenly. You’re the sweetest person I know.``

His hand touched her hip, massaging her before sliding it down to touch her thigh. She shook as his fingertips touched the bare skin of her inner thigh. His touch made her nerves light up in erratic flames, his fingers soft like silk. Her shaggy throw pillow was making her butt sweaty, but she didn’t want to break the mood by reaching behind her to toss a purple pillow aside. Every word out of his lips made her insides warm.

“You’ve got the most beautiful body, the softest skin, kissable lips.”

“Keep going,” she whispered, pressing herself closer to him.

“It’s brave that you live on your own,” he said, “and you’re never afraid to ask for help, either.” She pecked his lips. She’d wondered for weeks what he thought of her. Hearing him speak of her in nothing but positives filled her whole body with a comforting warmth. “Your confidence makes you hot, and lovely.”

“You’re like, the perfect guy,” she said, raking her fingers through his hair. His cheeks flushed and she planted wet kisses onto his cheek and neck. He laughed, his hands pulling her into his lap. “I’m serious, BX. You’re so patient, and like, you’re so caring to me. And you’re a beautiful man.” He groaned, shutting his eyes. She planted a kiss onto his left eyelid. “Your eyes are so pretty when you smile.” She kissed the tip of his nose. “Your nose is cute.” She kissed his cheek. “Your skin is so much clearer than mine.” He chuckled. “Your lips are perfect.”

He kissed her, his tongue pushing against her lips. She opened her mouth and pushed her tongue against his. He groaned into her mouth, and she gripped onto his shoulders tightly as she felt a hand grope the inside of her thigh. He tasted like sugar and salt, the familiar blend of Coke and McDonalds fries filling up her senses.

“Fuck, you’re so bold,” she breathed out when she broke their kiss, the mixture of their saliva leaving a wet trail down her chin. She moaned, looking down at BX’s hand push up against her groin. His thumb pressed against the hood of her clit, and her hand shot down to grip onto his wrist. “Byounggon -”

“Gon, call me Gon,” he demanded, pushing his hand up and down against her slit. Red heat blinded her.

“Gon,” she said with a loud exhale. Blinking, she threw her fingers up to cover her smile as his cheeks flushed again, his head bowing down. His thumb drew circles against her, sending waves of heat deep inside, making her buck her hips. “Gon, oh my God!”

She gasped and bucked her hips again. His fingers slipped under her shorts, and she felt a hot flash of pride wash over her body. He’d grinned as he glanced up at her, feeling that she hadn’t worn any panties. Two of his fingers slid against her folds, applying pressure as they dragged upwards, making goosebumps form along her back and up her arms. Her grip on his wrist tightened as she looked up at him, his gaze drifting up to look her in the eyes.

“How do you worship your God?” he asked, his smile widening as he pressed his forehead against hers. “Calling me out already, that’s cute.”

“Gon,” she said, her cheeks hot. “Are you teasing me?”

“You don’t like it?” he asked. His hand slid away from her core, making her insides shake.

“Don’t stop,” she said, her grip on his wrist tightening again as she pressed her fingers against his hand.

“Hey, there’s a special word that you didn’t use,” he said, his smile disappearing.

“Gon?”

She closed her eyes as he kissed her, his tongue warming her lips once more. His hand slipped away from her hold, moving to caress her hip. Throwing her hands up to his chest, she pushed him off as she opened her eyes.

“‘Please,’ is the special word,” he said, looking down at her, his eyes barely open. “I know you can be a brat, Piti, but I don’t tolerate brattiness well, not when my dick is involved.”

She gave a shy chuckle, biting her bottom lip when his eyes drifted down her body. His finger pinched the fabric of her top near her left breast, and tugged down. Piti felt the folded fabric slip away from the underside of her boob, and she smiled, feeling her cheeks flush.

“That’s been bugging me,” he said, his hand sliding under her shirt. She pressed closer to him as his hand warmed her up, making her body shiver with his touch. “Your tits are distracting.”

“I know they’re cute.”

“Let’s see how cute,” he replied, grinning. His fingers grasped onto the front hem of her shirt and pulled it up. He groped her left breast, his fingers pinching her nipple. Her core flared with a deep heat, and she squeezed her thighs together. “If you become a CamGirl, you better charge top dollar. Your tits...your breasts...titties of a Goddess.”

“You’re such a cornball,” she said with a chuckle, scrunching up her face as she shut her eyes. He gave a gentle, low guffaw. A wet, slick sensation pushed up against her right nipple, and her gut felt a hot pressure release heat into her body as a sharp pinch hit her nipple.

She opened her eyes and raked her fingers through BX’s hair, watching him lick and suck on her breasts. As his mouth moved to her right breast, he fondled her left with his hand. She moaned out his name, pulling him closer against her. His body felt so good against hers, she wanted to melt into him.

“Want to fuck?” she asked, cupping his face into her hands. She pulled him up to look at her face, forcing his tongue away from her hardened nipple. “Please, Gon?”

He gave a gentle chuckle as he tilted his head down to plant a kiss onto the side of her neck. She shut her eyes, savoring the deep, calming heat his lips gave to her body every time he kissed her. She ran her fingers through his hair again. A low groan reverberated into the center of her chest as he kissed her there.

“Should we take things into the bedroom?” he said softly, making her face flush as he sat up straight. He pulled her body up against his. He touched her chin with his thumb and forefinger, pulling her face close to his.

“Yes, please,” she answered, nodding before he gave her a gentle kiss. Her body lit up, and she pulled forward, deepening their kiss.

He broke the kiss, and caressed her cheek with his thumb as he cupped her face with one hand.

“You’re cute when you say please.”

She took a deep inhale of breath as her hand reached to touch his groin. He groaned, and then tilted his head down to kiss her. They groaned into each other’s mouths as she applied pressure onto his cock, rubbing up and down his growing erection. One of his hands grabbed her breast, squeezing it and flicking her engorged nipple.

Pushing him away, she stood up as she took her top off. She slipped her shorts off and tilted her head to her left before turning away from BX to walk to her room. She bit her bottom lip as she heard him get off her couch, the sounds of his belt buckle unfastening ringing loudly in the quiet apartment. She giggled, trotting to her room as she heard the heavy steps of BX’s behind her.

“Really?” he said with a huff. “You’re going to make me chase you?”

“You’re so stressed you didn’t even see me showing my ass off to you,” she called out behind her as she jumped into her bed, the springs to her mattress squeaking as she reached to her night stand to turn the lamp on.

“I’m sorry,” he said, walking into her room with his sweater in his hands. He stopped at the foot of her bed, tossing his sweater to the floor. Her cheeks flushed and she felt adrenaline rush up her body as BX looked at her on the bed. “You’re beautiful.”

“And you’re hot,” she replied, standing on her knees, reaching over to grab his hands. “Come on, Gon. Please? I’ve been so horny for you.” “You’re horny for me?”

He gave a guffaw as she laid down onto the bed, letting him go. She shut her eyes and sighed loudly, resting the back of her curled fingers against her temples. She’d never had a partner stop to make jokes as she was naked in bed, begging him to fuck her.

The springs of the mattress squeaked and groaned as BX got into bed with her. Goosebumps formed up her legs and arms as she felt his body over hers, his left knee pushing her legs open. She gasped, opening her eyes, when she felt his hands grasp onto her wrists. Blood pumped furiously at her throat as he pressed her arms down into the mattress.

“So,” he asked softly as he looked down at her, his eyes moving up and down her face, “what will it take for you to call me again?”

“Gon?” she said against his lips as he pressed his lips over hers. She shut her eyes as his lips moved to capture hers. His thigh pressed up against her, and she moaned into his mouth as his thigh continually pressed up against her, the pressure of his thigh muscles flexing against her folds sent sharp heat into her body.

She breathed heavily through her mouth when he released her lips. His lips landed on her neck and his teeth nipped at her sensitive skin before licking and kissing the sweat off her neck and jaw. She took a sharp inhale of breath as his fingers tightened their hold on her wrists, her skin aching. The familiar wet sensation of BX’s tongue licking her tits returned as she exhaled out a sweet moan.

“Oh my God, that feels so good, Gon,” she said barely above a whisper. She squealed out a frustrated groan as his teeth captured the engorged bud on her right breast, grinding his teeth back and forth. Sharp, mind melting jolts of heat hit her groin like lightning. “Oh my God! Gonie! Gonie!”

“Gonie?” he said, his teeth releasing her immediately. Piti took in heavy, shaky breaths, her body so hot and her nerves so sensitive, BX was one thigh flex away from making her come. He kissed her lips. “That’s cute, Piti. Gonie. I’m your Gonie.”

“Gonie,” she said softly, breathing heavily, “are we going to fuck? Please?”

He chuckled, his fingers released their grip on her wrists and glided down her arms to caress her breasts. She arched her back and shut her eyes as her pussy was aching for his cock, her core wet and warm. A sharp heat hit her stomach as his hands kneaded her breasts.

“I like it when you ask in a sweeter way,” he said. She shut her eyes as his hand groped her right breast, her body radiating with a frustrated heat.

“Will you please put your beautiful cock inside of me, please?” she said immediately. He kissed her, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. The chuckles in his throat reverberated into her chest, sending sharp heat into her nipples.

When they broke their kiss, they sat up so she could grab a condom from her night stand drawer. She sat up in bed, and kissed his shoulder as she watched him put the condom on. He grinned at her, seeming to enjoy the attention. His hand stroked his cock before he laid down onto his back.

“What position do you like?” he asked as she laid down beside him, turning her body in toward his.

“Spoon me and play with my clit, please?”

“You’re so cute,” he said, his eyes lighting up as he smiled from ear to ear. “I like it when you say please.”

He kissed her before letting go of her so she could turn around to face her back to him. She felt a shiver ride down her body as his sweaty front came into contact with her back. His tongue licked her earlobe as his hand massaged the inside of her thigh, pulling her to lift her leg a little. She rested her head onto the pillow under her as she felt him enter her from behind. The kiss he planted onto her neck made her give out a gasp. His cock pulling the walls of her pussy apart caused her nerves to dance wildly, making her skin light up.

“Gonie,” she gave out a soft moan as she felt his hand fondle her breast.

He pushed in deep, and she gave a loud exhale. She grunted as he began to push in and out in a slow, deep rhythm, making her feel every motion of his cock. Desperate squeaks escaped her lips when his cock twitched inside of her as he paused, balls deep inside of her.

“Fuck,” she breathed out as BX’s hand moved between her legs, and she felt two of his fingers press against her clit.

She wriggled her hips against him as his fingers drew circles around her clit, and then spread to glide down against her labia before going back to draw circles around her clit. Her mind was spinning, like she’d ridden on a roller coaster where her legs dangled in the air as the giant machine she was strapped to made a giant 360 degree loop. Trying to focus, she thrust back as he pushed his hips toward her.

“Fuck,” it was his turn to swear. He groaned as he began to pick up a faster pace. She couldn’t keep up and shut her eyes as she threw her hand back to grab his hip to feel steady. Her fingers dug into his wet, soft flesh as he continually rutted into her. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

“Gon,” she panted out, “Gon! Gonie! Fuck me just like that.”

“It feels good when you squeeze on my cock,” he said against her ear as his fingers flicked her clit up and down. The sensations of sweat gliding down her back and chest overcame her as her mind went through another 360 degree loop. Her cunt clamped down on his cock as his fingers played with her clit. “Fucking hell, you’re going to make me come.” The bed springs squeaked and groaned in a furious, erratic rhythm as his fingers left her clit to grab the back of her thigh to push in deeper.

“Gonie, I’m gonna come,” she said desperately, her face unbearably hot. “You’re fucking me so good, Gonie. Your cock, Gonie!”

He guffawed, clearly on a high at her praises, keeping his fast pushes going. His fingers gripped onto the back of her thigh before gliding to grope her ass. Finally, his fingers returned to her clit, and she immediately lost herself. Three fingers rubbed against her clit before he captured her engorged bud between his forefinger and middle finger and pulled, milking her clit.

Champagne gold fireworks exploded before her eyelids as her body seemed to feel weightless, though she could still feel BX’s cock thrusting in and out of her. Her mind was spinning endlessly as her whole body tensed before an overwhelming calm overcame her, relaxing all the muscles in her body.

His hand moved up to massage her breast as he planted kisses onto her shoulder. His fast pushes continued as she turned her head over, opening her eyes slightly. BX bent forward and kissed her, closing his eyes. She gave a soft whimper as he gave a handful of erratic, sharp pushes into her. His tongue pushed aggressively into her mouth before he released her lips.

Spent, neither of them were able to speak, though BX withdrew from her. She shut her eyes and she listened to him move around, likely disposing of his condom. A low groan escaped her lips as she felt him spoon her, his lips warming her cheek.

“When can we do that again?” he asked into her ear, tickling her nerves and making her giggle.

--

Thank you for reading!

[embeanwrites]

Weighs the Heaviest

Masterlist

A/N: I love that “you fell asleep on my shoulder and looked to cute to move so we’ve been here for a while” trope and I love Echo…so yeah.

Word Count: 554

Echo was happy to be back on his way to Coruscant. The most recent battle the 501st went through was beyond tiring. Thankfully, General Skywalker listened to General (L/n). Who was another unconventional Jedi, but was far kinder than anyone else on the battlefield. She had saved them from what would have been a much bigger loss and it was clear she felt deep sorrow for every man lost.

Somehow, not only was she able to memorize each and every clones’ names on the first try, but she was also able to memorize what made each clone different. It made Echo feel… frazzled. How she could fight relentlessly and then be so unbelievably sweet. After every battle, she’d float around like an angel checking on everyone. She would joke with Jesse and Fives, make Kix take a deep breath before he got too overwhelmed taking care of everyone, and she always asked for Echo’s opinion on their next move. Asking him, what does GAR think they should do, and then asking him what he thought they should do. Whenever she clapped him on the shoulder and said goodbye, Fives would come over to him and tease him relentlessly telling Echo to ask her out. Echo would just shake his head and smile as if she’d ever fall for him.

Needless to say, Echo was head over heels in love with her. So, when she sat next to him on the transport back, he did the one thing he knew he was good at it…ramble about GAR protocols and strategies.

“There’s no defense for the systems we leave, while we may be able to protect a planet for a time, we cannot have full control while continuing on with trying to rid the Separatists. We’re simply to spread thin, I think if we- “

It was in that moment that Echo froze, feeling the general’s head on his shoulder. Looking over slowly he noticed they were lightly snoring. They looked even more angelic in this moment. Echo looked up to see they still two hours before they would arrive on Coruscant.

Should he wake you up? Let you sleep? He looked around to see his brothers were either softly chatting or sleeping. He craned his neck to try to see Fives, maybe he could give him some much-needed advice.

“Stop moving.” He heard her mumble under her breath as she nuzzled closer to him. As if it was a command on the battlefield. Echo froze, but he couldn’t stop the small smile that ghosted his lips. Slowly Echo began to relax and rested his head on top of hers, causing her to hum gently. He began to close his eyes as well until he heard her mumble something.

“What?” Echo felt her move, so her chin was resting on his shoulder and she was inches from his face.

“I’m really glad you’re okay, Echo. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” She whispered, her eyes were half-closed, and she looked exhausted. The war weighed heavily on all of them, but when you had an open heart as she did. Well, it weighed the heaviest. Echo’s eyes never left hers, but he felt her grab his hand and intertwined their fingers.

“I’m not going anywhere.” He whispered. Thankful for this quiet moment during the war.

[prncesselene]

i love your kathony fics 🥺. are prompts still open? if they are then anything around that moment that is mentioned by edwina in the books - when kate says people will move on from her and anthony's *love match* gossip soon enough and edwina's like not as long as anthony looks at you the way he did at that ball, smouldering, pushing people away to get to kate. i love that because anthony is still in his denial phase but his actions are SO clearly the opposite xD

i am indeed still taking prompts! i’m working through them all ridiculously slowly, as my inactivity might indicate (lol), but i will be getting through everything that’s being sent my way, promise! :)

ao3

“There you are!”

Kate turned at the sound of her husband’s voice, her eyes widening. She hadn’t expected him to notice she’d even left the ballroom, much less follow her out. Her slowly relaxing heart took flight once more, a mixture of shame and embarrassment pooling in her chest.

They’d arrived back in London only a few nights ago, fresh off of their time in the country after the wedding. And though the time spent alone had been rejuvenating and enlightening all at once — Anthony was, in almost every way, a very attentive husband — returning to London as a bride had been a difficult adjustment. The height of the season was still upon them, and with it a number of events and social responsibilities that now asked much more of Kate than they had before.

And she wasn’t quite sure she was up to snuff, if she were being honest with herself.

Anthony crossed the hallway in three long strides and reached her side. “I turn around for just a moment and suddenly you’re gone. Practically knocked down half of the ton trying to find you.”

Kate’s chest warmed. The ballroom had been so full he would have had to have been keeping quite the close eye on her to notice something like that.

She shook her head immediately, dashing those childish, romantic notions away. He’d been very clear on where their marriage stood, and trying to paint his intentions as anything other than a gentlemanly interest in her well-being would only lead to heartbreak. She was already lucky enough, with the deal she’d been cut; asking for anything more than what Anthony could give her seemed selfish.

Once he was at her side, he tugged her elbow, gently bringing her in front of him. “Did something happen? Why did you leave the ballroom so suddenly?”

Kate began to fiddle with the buttons on his waistcoat, her eyes fixated on a string of fabric that had begun to pull from within one of them. “My, it's warm in here, isn't it? You need to take this to get fixed. I can arrange for your tailor to pass by tomorrow afternoon, if you can manage to clear your schedule. I know y–”

“Kate,” he warned, cutting off her nervous rambling, his voice more insistent. To their left, couples and families donning their finest gowns and suits entered and exited the ballroom, chatting amongst each other easily. “What’s wrong?”

She kept fiddling with the string of fabric, chewing on her lips until she was sure they would end up bleeding. Anthony’s hands came to rest atop hers, limiting her movement. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

Kate sighed, gathering the strength needed for her admission. “Anthony, I don’t think I’m quite cut out for this.”

“Cut out for what?”

“Oh, you know, all of... this,” she emphasized, attempting to tug her hands away, but his grip only tightened.

“Marriage? It’s a little late for doubts like those,” he murmured.

“What?” Kate met his eyes then, surprised to find they were much more contemplative than she expected. “No, no. It’s not that. It’s just… well, I don’t really fit in, do I? I’ve never been good at the things that ladies are expected to be good at, have never managed to sit still or act demurely or... or anything like that, really and... well, now that is precisely what is expected of me.”

She paused, chewing her lip, taking her eyes off of Anthony’s to stare at the floor. “I know I’m not the kind of wife you expected. The sort that could smile prettily and charm everyone around her and be a proper viscountess.”

Anthony’s eyes narrowed with concern, his stance tightening. He took her hands firmly in his and held onto them, running a thumb over her gloved knuckles. “Kate, where is this coming from? Did something happen?”

Kate swallowed, her heart beating traitorously. It seemed no matter how hard she tried to convince herself of Anthony’s objectivity within their marriage, her body refused to cooperate. The simple gesture of him listening to her so intently, with such gentleness and care, made her knees weak.

“No one is saying anything, if that’s what you’re worried about,” she sighed, noticing the way he relaxed once more. Her face reddened remembering Lady Whistledown’s most recent column. “In fact… well, it’s obviously a bit ridiculous, but the consensus among the gossips of society is that ours was a love match.”

“Ridiculous,” he repeated softly. Not quite a question, but not quite a statement of fact, either.

“Yes. Ridiculous,” she said, her belly swooping pitifully. “Anyways, clearly, it is not. You need not remind me of that fact. That— it’s fine. But even if they think ours looks like a love match, they must think it’s an ill fitting one. I mean, I'm hardly a catch. I talk too loud, express my opinion too plainly. I keep meeting duchesses and countesses and realizing I... I'm nothing like that, Anthony. And I worry I never will be." 

For a moment, Anthony didn’t reply, and Kate feared he agreed with her. That he, too, saw their marriage as the farce that it was. That the one with doubts was him.

But all he did he was bring her hands up to his mouth, pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles.

“Never speak that way of yourself again, Kate,” he said, his voice serious. “For my sake if not yours. In fact, as your husband, I demand it.”

Kate’s fingers were warm underneath the gloves where he kissed her, her eyes wide.

“I can only speak for myself, but there is absolutely nothing about you that I would wish to change. You are headstrong, passionate, and absolutely everything a proper viscountess should be, all of those other supposed virtues be damned. If someone — anyone — cannot see that, then that is their loss and theirs only." 

He tightened his grip on her hands and made sure she was looking directly at him before continuing. "When you enter rooms you command the respect of others not because you are my wife, or a Bridgerton, but because you're you. And you are more than enough.”

Kate was at a loss for words. She knew that love would never be a part of their relationship. That even if her body felt most alive when it was next to his, even if she laughed and talked with him like she had with no one else before, even if she knew she was already halfway in love with him herself — that those feelings would have to be kept under lock and key.

But then, when he said those things…. When he looked at her like that…

It was, admittedly, a little difficult not to want to wrap her arms around him and show him exactly how she felt.

Kate released her inhibitions and embraced him tightly anyways, if only so that he wouldn’t see the errant tears that threatened to slip out of her eyes.

“Thank you,” she murmured into the velvet of his coat, indulging in the comforting smell of leather and tobacco and Anthony that she’d grown to associate with warmth and belonging. That she’d grown to love, little by little. "You needn't lie to me to make me feel better, but I appreciate it all the same."

“There is nothing I’ve said that I wouldn’t happily repeat in front of all of London,” he said, the smile in his voice evident. One of his hands wrapped around her waist while the other tipped her chin towards his. “Will you obey your husband and never disparage yourself like this again? Can I trust you to do that?”

Kate’s eyes narrowed as she bit down on her own smile. She was like a slice of jelly when it came to him, pliant and willing to do whatever he said. It helped, of course, that all he was asking of her was to be kinder to herself. That he seemed to really, truly believe the words he'd said. That he saw her that way. 

“I suppose.”

He smiled and leaned down to slant his lips against hers, taking advantage of the brief lull in hallway activity. The arm around her waist tightened and brought her closer to him as his lips explored hers tenderly.

“Anthony!” she scolded, giggling against his mouth. “This is most improper. What if someone sees us?”

Leaning his forehead against hers, Anthony smiled. “The gossip about us is already scandalous. Why not add to it?”

Kate laughed but pulled away, shaking her head. As much as she loved kissing Anthony, she'd had enough scandal to last a lifetime. “I don’t think there’s any need for that.”

Straightening her ballgown and tightening her gloves once more, Kate took a deep breath. It was time to go back to the ballroom, where she would once again have to resume the act of viscountess; to pretend that she knew what she was doing, that she belonged there. With Anthony by her side, at least, it almost felt manageable.

Anthony’s smile was warm when he extended his arm out to hers. “Ready to return to the fun, Mrs. Bridgerton?”

Dash it. With him by her side it was certainly manageable. She had a growing suspicion that with him, anything was. Love matches or no. 

She slipped her arm into his, remembering his words. His faith in her.

“Ready.”

[chaoticpuff17]

A Dangerous Game

part 11

Masterlist

Hello, my darlings! Don’t forget to let me know in the comments what member you would like featured in my next fic after A Dangerous Game is over! Love you all! --- your chaotic puff

Namjoon had promised good behavior would bring free reign of the house, what he hadn’t told her was that it wasn’t going to be put into immediate effect.

Everything had gone downhill during their first dinner in the dining room since the night of their second meeting.

“What do you mean go back to that room?” She asked putting her utensils down as she stared him down from across the table. “You promised.”  

His eyes narrowed at her not liking the tone she’d taken with him. “You’ve been so good today, jagi. I would hate for you to ruin all that good work.” He warned continuing his meal though his grip on his own utensils had tightened.

They stared each other down. One was simmering with rage, and the other was waiting for any sort of slip up. The threat was clear as it hung in the air between them. Any wrong move on her part at this point would result in a full return to house arrest. She didn’t want to risk it, but by the same token she wanted nothing more than to fling a plate at his head. But she squashed that urge taking in a steady breath as she stood from her seat and smoothed out her skirt.

“And where are you going?” He asked curious as so what she was going to do.

“Back to my room!” She announced gracing him with a sharp smile one to rival even the most calculating of his grins.

He sighed setting down his utensils and standing from his seat as well. “I would appreciate if you would sit down, jagiya.”

“I’m afraid I’m a little tired. I think I’ll retire for the evening.” Every word was coated in a syrupy sweetness that was almost sickening. “Unless of course you have any objections?”

She knew full well that he couldn’t argue with that, not when he had so recently been the cause of her car crash. He was far too concerned with her health. Even if they both knew that she was lying, he would error on the side of caution and allow her to return to her room. He wouldn’t risk her fainting again. He wouldn’t admit it out loud, but the last time had shaken him. Seeing her crumple to the ground had caused his heart to stop for just a moment, and it wasn’t an experience he wished to repeat.

“Should I call for, Seokjin?” He asked moving over to her.

“No. I’ll be just fine with some rest. If you’ll excuse me?” She continued to smile that horribly sweet smile. It was an expression she had mastered under Marcus’ regime. It was bright and saccharine, but it never met her eyes. Those remained lifeless.

“I’ll walk you to your room.” He sighed again eyeing her carefully for any signs of real fatigue.

“There’s no need…”

“I’ll walk you to your room.” His voice held a note of finality that didn’t leave room for any more arguments so she acquiesced if only for the sake of their unsteady peace.

Once they reached her room she turned on her heal to face him with that smile again. He hated that smile. He would rather face her ire than that lifeless mask. It didn’t suit her.

“Goodnight, Namjoon.”

And before he could say anything, she had closed the door in his face.

The next morning dawned with a blanket of tension settling itself over the estate. Every member of staff knew something was wrong though no one dared to express that to the master of the house. But it was clear as they watched the frigid reception of their new madame during breakfast. Everyone had been excited for the madame’s recovery. So little had been seen of her over the course of her isolation, and they were all eager to see what kind of woman the madame was. But the tension between the two did not bode well to the other occupants of the house. A happy wife made for a happy household, and it was clear to everyone that the lady of the house was less than happy.

“Y/N….” Namjoon began sighing in frustration as he did. “This is ridiculous.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Namjoon had to clench his jaw and take a deep breath to stop himself from snapping at her. She had maintained the most infuriatingly blasé attitude all morning. She wasn’t rude. She wasn’t ignoring him. She was just politely detached remaining breezily above everything around her. It wouldn’t have been so bad, if only there hadn’t been that spark of something mischievous in her eye that told him she knew exactly what she was doing.  

“Y/N.”

And there it was, that saccharine smile he detested so much on her. “Yes, Namjoon?”

“Don’t.” He snapped slamming his chopsticks down. “Don’t do that. Don’t hide behind that mask.” She quirked an eyebrow at him but didn’t say anything. “It doesn’t suit you, jagi.”

“There are a lot of things that don’t suit me. Being here just happens to be one of them.”

“Jagi,”

“You could rectify everything by just sending me home. That would suit me very well.”

“That isn’t going to happen.” He growled.

“You can’t blame a girl for trying.” She sighed setting aside her won utensils and taking a sip of her tea. “Do I actually get free reign today, or should I assume free reign really just means meals in the dining room and walks around the garden with you?”

He leaned back in his chair debating whether or not he should release her onto the estate. The stubborn set of her shoulders told him that she would only keep up her passive aggressiveness would only continue if he made that his definition of free reign, but he had his ways of keeping her just as firmly under watch around the estate as she was in her rooms.

“Of course you’ll be given free reign of the estate, jagi, but you will have to have a guard with you at all times. For you own safety, of course.” A small smirk pulled up the corners of his mouth as he watched the frown overtake her features.

“A guard? You never mentioned anything about a guard.”

“I have my fair share of enemies. It’s for your own safety. Jungkook will accompany you while I’m not with you.”

And just like that her mask of detachment melted away replaced with a look of utter disbelief. “A babysitter. You’re giving me a babysitter?”

“For your own good, jagi.”

“It’s either a guard returning to your room. What’s it going to be, jagi?” He asked allowing himself a smile. It wasn’t a deal she would refuse, and he knew that.

“Fine, a babysitter then.”

“Excellent! This is Jungkook.” He said motioning to a young man who had only just entered the room, and Y/N had to stop and do a double take.

He was young, so very young. While he was tall and broad, clearly very strong, he was still so young. She wanted to sweep him up and take him out of here, far from Namjoon and his whole sordid business. She had been young when she’d gotten involved in this mess of a world, and it pained her to see someone so young here. It didn’t help that he had wide doe eyes that screamed of a kind soul.

“Jungkook, this is, Mrs. Kim.” Namjoon introduced motioning to the woman who was still staring at the young man in shock.

“I’m not your wife.” She snapped at him before turning a far kinder eye on the young man. “You can call me, Y/N. It seems will be spending a lot of time together.” The last part was said with an annoyed glance in Namjoon’s direction.

“Mrs. Kim, will be fine.” Namjoon groused.  

The poor boy was looking between the two of them with wide eyes unsure which of the two he should be listening to. Namjoon was his boss, but technically so was she. She was the lady of the house and would have far more contact with him on a day to day basis given his new job.

“You can call me whatever would make you the most comfortable.” She said gently, seeing the conflict on the poor boy’s face.  “Okay?”

He nodded gracing her with a smile that was too infectious not to return. They’d get along fine, but he would be a hindrance to her scoping out the gardens for a path of escape. But she should have expected this. Namjoon was always a step ahead it seemed. She’d have to find a way around him.  She’d have to play along for now.

“Well, as lovely as sitting her with you is, I think I’ll go explore. I’ve been so busy that I haven’t had the time to see the house yet.” She smiled sarcasm layering each word as she stood from her chair. “Shall we, Jungkook?” She asked moving towards the door.

“Just a moment, jagi. There’s something I’d like to show you before you avoid me for the rest of the day.”

She paused turning to face him again. “I really don’t think that I can handle any more of your surprises. The overwhelming majority of them have been…” She stopped, searching for the right word. “Unpleasant for me. Besides you’re a very busy man. I’m sure you have work to do.”

“I’ll be working from home today, jagi.” He smirked watching her smile fall.

“How lovely.”

And at that, she had to admit defeat. There would be no avoiding him, not this time at least. She knew this was a probationary period. Namjoon didn’t trust her as far as he could throw her, and she couldn’t really blame him for that, though it did make her life more difficult. She had a known history of betraying men in his position. She wouldn’t trust herself either if she was him, so she’d have to behave and avoid any suspicion of her plans of escape until Namjoon no longer suspected her of trying to do just that.

He stood up coming around the table to stand beside her, placing a firm hand on the small of her back. “Shall we, jagi.”

“If we have to.”  She sighed reluctantly allowing him to guide her through the hallways with Jungkook trailing behind like an oversized shadow.

They stopped outside of a set of doors made from a dark wood, almost black, and glass, and she had to turn to him in confusion.

“You wanted to show me a room?”

“It’s a room for you, jagi.” Namjoon explained. “You can think of it as a private parlor.”

She stared up at him trying to decide if he was serious or not. But she couldn’t find anything in his face to signal that he was anything but serious. “The last time you gifted me a room wasn’t exactly a pleasant experience.”

He chuckled. “I think you’ll like this one much better.”

“You’re not planning on locking me in this one right?” It was unfortunately a rather real concern for her at this moment. She wasn’t sure what would set Namjoon off and have him send her back to her rooms for another stint of house arrest. “Because glass doors aren’t the most secure if that’s what you’re planning.”

“No. No one will be locking you in this room. It doesn’t have a lock, jagi.”

He opened the door revealing a small room the main focus of which was the shiny black baby grand situated within it bathed in the natural light that flooded the room from the windows that had a lovely view of the gardens. There were some comfortable looking chairs and an ottoman by the windows, and one wall was a set of shelves housing books and knick knacks. She hated to admit it, but she loved it.

“No one will bother you in this room without your permission.”

“Except you.” She pointed out dryly.

“Except me.” He agreed snaking an arm around her waist. “There is a library in the house of course, but these books are for you, for this room.”

She broke away from him her eyes fixed on the piano as she trailed her fingers across the keys.  “How did you know I played piano? That couldn’t have been in the file.”

“I have my ways.” He grinned watching her take a seat at the bench. “When you get bored, you fidget, jagi.”

“You knew I played piano because I fidget sometimes?” She asked looking up at him in disbelief.

He picked up one of her hands delicately playing with her fingers. “You’ll move your fingers in a pattern, like you’re playing a song only you can hear.” He explained allowing her to pull her hand away. “Do you like it?”

She wanted to say no if only to wipe the stupid grin off his face, but the truth was she loved it. She missed the feel of the keys beneath her fingers, and it would give her something to do. Namjoon hadn’t allowed her a phone or a computer to keep her occupied, for good reason. He wasn’t stupid, but it left her with fewer distractions than she would have liked in the house. She was living like some sort of Victorian house wife only with nicer amenities.

“It’s a beautiful instrument.” It wasn’t exactly agreeing, but it wasn’t disagreeing either.She refused to give him the satisfaction. But she did love the piano.

 “Is this a Bosendorfer?” She asked running a tentative finger over the name embossed above the keys in awe. “These cost a fortune.” She breathed out in disbelief, looking up at him with wide eyes. “It had to be $500,000, and that’s at the low end!”

She couldn’t wrap her head around the fact that the man had paid a small fortune for a piano. While it was a top of the line instrument, she never would have paid that much for an instrument. She had never even been this close to piano this expensive. It was utterly insane to spend that much on a piano.

“Only the best for you.” He smiled only to receive a swift smack across the arm from her.

“Are you insane? How could you spend a small fortune on a piano?” The look of absolute incredulity on her face clearly conveyed just how stupid she found him, found this. “You could have gotten a Yamaha for a tenth of the price, and it still would have been a perfectly good instrument.” Standing on by the door Jungkook had to choke back his shock. Never had he seen anyone scold his hyung in such a way, let alone dare to lay a hand on him, and Namjoon let her. “I’m not a concert pianist. I don’t need a piano that costs more than my life is worth.”

She raised a hand to smack him again, but Namjoon snatched her by the wrist, his eyes narrowed dangerously.

“Never,” He hissed anger pouring out of him in waves. “Never say that again. Do you understand me?”

part 12

[sepublic]

Ok no one else is saying it so I will: the fact that Lilith in Wing it Like Witches basically had a mental breakdown over losing the grugeby match and having to go back to the Emperor empty-handed really makes me wonder what kinda fucked up stuff Belos might do to Lilith. I mean it's already implied that he's abusive to her so I wouldn't be surprised if she was getting severe undeserved punishments for not bringing Eda back.

           Honestly, I suspect Lilith is just highly sensitive to failure in general… I wouldn’t be surprised if she was harshly punished for every mistake she made as a child, given the comparisons of the Coven System to the American school system- And if Lilith is neurodivergent just as Luz, Eda, and Amity are coded to be, then it’d hit even harder for her. So even if there isn’t an actual punishment waiting for her, necessarily; Lilith still freaks out and braces for the worst and just feels utterly terrible, because she’s been conditioned to do so.

           Especially since Lilith likely has a lot of self-esteem issues about never being good as Eda, always being the lesser sister… As Lilith herself said, Eda may have been star player- But I think Lilith took a lot of solace in being team captain, and believing this role certified her as being at least on Eda’s level when it came to sports, if not above it. So having a definitive match between the two prove once and for all that, yes, Eda IS better at Lilith at Grudgby, just as she’s better at everything else… This realization could’ve really broken Lilith in a lot of ways.

           Not to mention, failing the Grudgby game also means failing to bring back Eda- And Lilith has both selfish and altruistic reasons to do so. Lilith wants Eda by her side, and she wants her sister cured; Once again, the chance for this has beaten her. Lilith also wants to protect Eda from Belos, who has begun to crack down on wild witches more as the Day of Unity approaches… So she knows that Eda’s time is running out, in addition to knowing the curse is worsening. To Lilith, she’s not just failing herself on multiple levels- She’s failing her sister once again, and she’s running out of time and chances to make up for her past sins.

           It’d also reflect badly on Lilith to the rest of the Emperor’s Coven, as well as Belos and Kikimora… Lilith clearly dislikes Kiki and wants to prove her otherwise- And Lilith still admires Belos and looks up to him a lot. I can see Lilith being grateful to Belos for giving her a chance to prove herself by letting her into his coven, for even bestowing upon her the title of Head Witch (because deep down Lilith feels like she never truly earns anything and it’s given to her only by the grace of others, she only got into the EC because Eda forfeited for her)… And Belos constantly giving Lilith these chances, and being willing to cure Eda and let her into his coven, surely it means he somewhat trusts her- And that again, Belos is doing so much for her.

           Lilith would hate to disappoint someone she looks up to, someone who’s clearly setting aside a lot of patience just to put up with her, and she wants to pay them back because she feels undeserving… She’d be failing Belos and his plans, which clearly intend the greater good for the Boiling Isles- So in a way, Lilith is failing the Isles as well… And I wouldn’t be surprised if Lilith realized at some point that her own apprentice was also disappointed in her for the Covention incident. So to Lilith, she’s been a recently increasing stream of disappointment to those who trust her, look up to her, and in some ways hurting those she cares about or feels obligated for.

          I imagine Lilith feels like she causes a lot of harm in general, so she seeks to offset this by being a helpful and productive member of society, and probably justifies her participation in Belos’ corruption by believing it’s all for the greater good, which then just contributes to Lilith justifying hurting Eda ‘for her own good’. Lilith wants to think she’s worthwhile, that her continued existence and people’s patience with her is justifiable and will pay off, because clearly she’s put a lot of stock and work into things under the hopes that it’ll all be worth it in the end. Kind of like how Lilith believes it’s okay to curse Eda, because it’ll be worth it when she gets into the Emperor’s Coven- That it’s worth buying into its ideology and being separated from Eda, because one day Eda will join her in their former dream, and be cured!

           And as she’s no doubt desperate for approval, Lilith is afraid of not only losing it, but having this replaced with scorn. Lilith doesn’t want to fail someone she admires, someone she thinks actually values her when beforehand she’s never felt approved of; And as Head of the Emperor’s Coven, she is no doubt intimately aware of a LOT of horrible things that happen to wild witches. To people who displease Belos in general… And so while she has so much reason to admire the Emperor, she’s also got plenty cause to fear him as well. Fear of having her position by his side revoked (especially since we see Owl Mask already taking up one themselves), fear of losing support of the one person who tolerated her… Fear of what he could do to Lilith, etc.

           Lilith already has every reason to be extremely sensitive of failure and rejection, in addition to her low self-esteem, and other tangible consequences… So what you suggested, about Belos actively punishing Lilith (hopefully it only began after Sense and Insensitivity, as that episode had Lilith act like it’s okay for her to take her time capturing Eda, under the excuse of her sister eventually becoming debilitated by her worsening curse), it is… Honestly pretty terrifying, and not at all out of character for Belos. Especially given how he’s the Emperor, so he’s free to do whatever he chooses to his own underlings, without repercussion- So I could see him being actively worse than Odalia and Alador are to their own kids, which would be saying something!

           Given the cult-y vibes of the Emperor’s Coven, I can see Belos further indoctrinating his minions into thinking it’s totally okay for him to harm them as punishment for failure, and even that this is a good and deserved thing- Again, tying back to those parallels of the American school system, which has echoes of the belief that ‘suffering is purifying’. It doesn’t even have to be the entire Emperor’s Coven that is convinced and wrapped up into this sort of abuse- Lilith is already of such low self-esteem that I think she’d believe she deserves it… Maybe even finds a twisted relief in her punishment as cathartic self-harm. Belos gives off ‘Christian Colonizer’ vibes as-is, and there are records of such puritans advocating for this kind of pain as being ‘good’ for a person, so to Lilith it’s her actively atoning and making up for her mistakes, in addition to actually succeeding next time.  

           And if so, then that is a horrifically abusive relationship, especially since entire generations of witches are already indoctrinated into trusting Belos for having what’s best for them in mind- I mean, the show’s ending credits have a pair of toddlers making a sand castle of Belos’ palace, that’s how deep this propaganda goes! It’d take a lot to unlearn that, especially from someone as entrenched into the Emperor’s Coven as Lilith… And if Eda and Luz were to learn about this, if what you suggested is true- Then in addition to the whole ‘threatening to execute Lilith by nightfall’ bit, and Lilith genuinely thinking she was helping Eda and curing her curse, thus saving her sister from a fate worse than death; I could see them becoming a LOT more sympathetic and forgiving to Lilith, because they just don’t have it in their hearts to be mad at someone who has clearly suffered and been traumatized and manipulated…

          I could see Luz maybe even drawing parallels to Amity and her parents, while Eda is just horrified that this is what her sister went through- And maybe she thinks that she should’ve been more there for Lilith, should’ve worked to rescue her older sister if she knew what was going on, even if that meant kidnapping Lilith. And of course, Lilith has reached that point of self-defeat where she insists to Eda that her little sister owes her nothing, and she is right in a sense… But also, Lilith thinks that while Eda owes Lilith nothing, Lilith herself is owed so much pain and punishment, when it’s clear that this sort of thing will only make things worse for someone who’s used to it- So obviously Luz and Eda aren’t going to invest in more suffering for Lilith, because obviously it didn’t teach her to be a kinder and happier person.

           So while Lilith is obviously testing their patience in a LOT of ways… Luz and Eda’s natural compassion, in addition to appreciation of Lilith doing the right thing in the end, and having the bravery to defy Belos- I think that’ll help them forgive Lilith, or at least be on better terms with her. Hopefully she can be accepted fully into their family… And that’s assuming Lilith won’t try to bail out of guilt and wanting to protect Eda, to not be a burden, and to just want the comforting isolation away from the constant reminder of her failures in life and as a sister, because at the Owl House, Lilith will constantly be reminded of how Eda was so much better off and happier than her, and that’ll just add to her insecurity at being outdone. Lilith will be reminded of the curse she cast on Eda, and also what she missed out on for so long, and it’ll tear her apart…

           And, I can see Lilith actually reveling in her half of the curse as self-punishment for what she’s done, and Eda… While Eda has cautiously accepted this because it IS Lilith making up for the damage she legitimately caused and worsened- She also doesn’t want Lilith to default to martyrdom and self-punishment because she knows that kind of mindset in reaction to failure is abusive and a product of the Coven System. Oof, I’m just suddenly imagining Lilith finding ways to punish herself while at the Owl House, maybe leaving so she can do so uninterrupted, because she’s still enacting the abuse when there’s nobody around to perform it- And the others have to really look out for Lilith and stop her… It’d be incredibly exhausting and tiresome, and just make Lilith feel like even more of a burden.

           But in the end, Lilith realized that wallowing in self-pity and punishment for years didn’t help Eda or herself, it just made things worse- It was making just that one decision to change and improve things for the better, that got Lilith the immediate results of a more-repaired relationship with her sister. Sooner or later, Lilith has to pick herself up; All this self-loathing is no doubt exhausting, and she wants something new… Lilith still wants to be with Eda and now she has the chance. If she put in the work serving the Emperor’s Coven under the hopes it’d pay off, maybe she can put in the work of self-improvement under this same principle; Or not, investing in the Emperor’s Coven clearly failed, so why bother?

          Well, I imagine Eda’s happiness, time with her, and the fact that Lilith is no longer burning with her worst secret, is a good reason to invest… Because Lilith’s seen actual results for once, so she knows it’ll pay off in the end and she wants more of that happiness and goodness in life. But Titan, it’d probably be terrifying, having to imagine Lilith caught in the attempt of self-harm because she hates herself, she’s trying to secretly get away with it, and Luz/Eda/King are so scared and shocked because of it… And Lilith just insists in a mental breakdown that this is what she deserves, and why can’t they leave her to this because don’t they secretly hate her anyway!? But the others don’t really, that’s why she’s even here- They’re here to be fully transparent with Lilith and not lie and lead her on like Belos did in his abusive, manipulative way.

           I’m just imagining the others getting Lilith into a routine of self-care, making her invest into a schedule and productive stuff that keeps her distracted, maybe a hobby or two that makes Lilith feel constructive- Getting her to wean off her self-destructive habits, while Lilith is also obligated to make a promise each day that she won’t relapse and get into some funny business… And then the others can feel safer leaving her alone for longer periods of time, while also validating and rewarding Lilith for her efforts, further incentivizing her to do well… While not punishing her for any failure, further teaching Lilith to not default to that in the first place. Of course Eda would do everything in her power to keep Luz and King free from this responsibility and concerns, but I can see Luz insisting on providing some kind of helping hand- Or at least contributing towards the happier, fluffier moments that are less messy and agonizing for everyone involved.

          And wanting to live up to this trust that a kid has in her, to see someone trust in her again after she messed up with Amity- It’ll give Lilith a lot of belief in herself that maybe she CAN do right… And she’s now even got the chance to make amends with Amity, too! Maybe things are getting better… And maybe things ARE improving, because she IS a good person, and the others were right to believe in her- Lilith wouldn’t want to prove them wrong, after all! And if it really brightens her sister’s day to see Lilith become happy again, then… That makes Lilith happy, and finally she’s doing things right, without having to worry about when she messes up.

          For once, Lilith can take genuine, true pride in confidence in who she is, and what she does- And finally she’ll invest in the dignity and self-respect to know that she deserves better. Then Lilith can not only spare herself from pain- She can protect her loved ones from it for real this time, instead of always hurting them. For so long Lilith has hurt others trying to do what’s best for them; Now she can do what’s best for them without doing so, because Lilith knows that what’s best for others isn’t pain, but happiness and healing. She can do the right thing, and make up for what may have been Lilith’s original failure that started it all; Not being the protective older sister that Eda needed her to be.

          Lilith doesn’t need to fear failure, and she can expect so much from success this time, especially now that it’s within reach; And Lilith knows that she can always change and improve herself to reach it, assuming she isn’t already capable! Eda does believe in the capacity to choose your own destiny and who you want to be, regardless of how you start out or what others dictate. Even if Lilith WAS a terrible person… She has the power to change this, and she’ll certainly make use of this opportunity. Lilith need not resign herself to what she saw as fate, as the inevitability of her decline into despair, or her place in the Emperor’s Coven as ordained by Belos’ hierarchy… Lilith can become who she always wanted to be- A wild witch and a good sister, someone who is happy, fulfilled, and free!