#though i guess that would defeat the purpose of posting it as your own work 🙄

[the-only-universe-here]

Hey! This is the author of this collection of fic... summaries? Glad to know I've apparently caught your attention enough for you to want to share my work! Unfortunately it doesn't look like you've included any links to any of the actual (separate!) fics, or the series that all of them are in- I would ask you to fix that, but seeing as I doubt you'll do anything but perhaps delete your post and/or block me, I've decided to go ahead and fix your post for you, free of charge 😌

(I should note! Despite these all being in one series, outside of the ones that are in their own specific series, all of these are separate plots/AU's, rather than being one big connected story ☺️💕)

𝓛𝓸𝓸𝓴 𝓜𝓮 𝓘𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓜𝓲𝓻𝓻𝓸𝓻

Being sent on leave was always a time of adjustment – it took a few days to settle back into the rhythm of civilian life. Losing the strictness of military schedules was hard, sometimes.

Sometimes it was nothing more than a relief – or a chance to let loose, indulge oneself in things that soldiers couldn't have while on base, much less on missions.

That's exactly what had driven Johnny this far, carefully tipping a large mirror against the wall.

𝓦𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓗𝓪𝓹𝓹𝓮𝓷𝓼 𝓐𝓽 2𝓐𝓜

Being left alone with Johnny made Ghost feel like he was on the edge of some insatiable pit. If he lingered too long, let his toes slip over the crumbling boundary between him and open air, he would never escape.

So, he was somewhat wary, but assumed it was some stupid tiktok when he saw that the keyboard-mash file name ended with a .mp4.

He wasn't prepared for what he saw when the app opened.

The thumbnail was gritty from the digital compression, but it was clear enough even behind the suddenly horrendously tempting play button.

𝓕𝓾𝓬𝓴𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓸𝓾 (𝓘𝓷 𝓜𝔂 𝓗𝓮𝓪𝓭)

He'd gotten a few notifications already. Annoying reminders from his games, something from the recipe app he'd downloaded the last time he had leave, some popular post on Twitter. But no texts, no calls, nothing to indicate that Ghost had reached out again, for any potential reason that he might have.

It had only served to drive his anxiety through the roof. He couldn't really remember what the hell he had been thinking last night.

𝓐 𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓾𝓼𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓸𝓷𝓼 𝔀𝓱𝔂 𝔀𝓮 𝓬𝓪𝓷'𝓽

(And a few good reasons why we should)

---

"Sergeant," he muttered. "Are you going into heat?"

"Dinnae ken," the omega breathed, accent thick in his voice. "Ah shouldnae. Ah'm no' due fer it."

"Reactionary heat? Were you hit with anything?"

A shrug was all he got, before Johnny took in a deep breath and shuddered. "Ah should probably go lay down, sir."

𝓗𝓾𝓶𝓲𝓭𝓲𝓽𝔂

"My voice?"

That made a slight tinge of pink crawl onto Johnny's cheeks, glad that Ghost wasn't there to see it. Maybe pointing it out was stupid of him, but he was already there. "Aye, sir. Chicks go wild for a bit of a growl like ye have."

The hum of consideration that rolled through comms made Johnny feel- quite a bit more than he would ever want to admit.

𝓳𝓾𝓼𝓽 𝓰𝓲𝓿𝓮 𝓶𝓮 𝓪 𝓽𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮

Maybe it was breaking his alpha instincts, letting another alpha fuck him like he did. Maybe he was unwittingly letting Ghost bitch him, but- it didn't feel like that. Not when Soap was fucking him just as often, just as harshly, just as thoroughly.

It felt more like a slow discovery of something he hadn’t let himself explore before, finding something new to enjoy. It felt especially true when he found out how much he loved being on his knees for Ghost, in any way, in any context.

𝓐𝔀𝓪𝓴𝓮𝓷 𝓶𝔂 𝓱𝓾𝓷𝓰𝓮𝓻, 𝓯𝓮𝓮𝓭 𝓶𝔂 𝓪𝓹𝓹𝓮𝓽𝓲𝓽𝓮

His ruts were less a haze of possessive, sex-fueled rage, and more of a massive fucking discomfort. His skin always felt too tight, too small – like there was an itch under the layers of flesh, in his very bones that he couldn't reach.

But that was before he returned to Mexico. Before he spent what could've been hours helping his sergeant through bloody, rain-slick streets.

𝓶𝓪𝔂𝓫𝓮 𝓲 𝓬𝓪𝓷 𝔀𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓽𝓲𝓶𝓮

John: So, if you're not here for a relationship, what are you here for? ;)

Simon: I don't think most people on this app are here for relationships.

John: Lmao, you're not wrong

Simon: And I don't assume you're here for something like that either

John: Nope, just looking for some fun

~~~

How long will it take for "fun" to turn into more? Perhaps not as long as you'd think.

𝓽𝓪𝓴𝓮 𝓪𝓷 𝓲𝓷𝓬𝓱, 𝓽𝓪𝓴𝓮 𝓪 𝓶𝓲𝓵𝓮

At first, it started with comments subtle enough that Ghost wasn't sure if the kid was actually flirting or just trying to flatter him. It took a while for him to build up to that tone filled with innuendo and swagger, the change slow enough that he didn’t even realize until Price was the one to cut it off in the middle of a goddamn mission. Soap had, of course, stopped running his mouth – for that mission at least.

It didn’t stop him from starting up again once they got to exfil, on their way back to base, or on every other goddamn mission.

~~~

Soap is down bad, and Ghost can't stand him. At least at first.

𝓔𝓪𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝓸𝓾𝓽

Johnny couldn't keep doing this.

Simon had, once again, gone to get fucking hammered at the bar. Usually Johnny would go with him, be a good boyfriend, and help him stumble up the stairs back to their room, but he just… couldn't, this time. He was tired of having to do it.

Gaz had tried to talk him into breaking up with the man before they left. Johnny told him that he would, even, because he was tired of it all. But, well…

~~~

Johnny's at the end of his rope with his shitty boyfriend, knowing that he can't keep dragging it out even longer. All it takes is one night to change that, though.

𝓢𝓽𝓮𝓹 𝓵𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓯𝓵𝔂, 𝓵𝓲𝓽𝓽𝓵𝓮 𝓗𝓮𝓻𝓶𝓮𝓼

“Well, if you’re open to harebrained schemes, sir…”

Both Gaz and Price sighed, almost in stereo, and Soap snickered.

Still, Price held out the olive branch regardless. “What’s your stupid idea, then?”

“Let me lead him, sir,” he said, meeting Gaz’s eyes as the man gave him an incredulous look. “Let him chase me, I’ll get him out.”

“Soap, he’ll maul you,” Price protested immediately.

~~~

Aka, Ghost is in rut and incapacitated, but they need to get him out.

𝓢𝔀𝓮𝓮𝓽 𝓗𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓽 (𝓼𝔀𝓮𝓮𝓽 𝓫𝓵𝓸𝓸𝓭, 𝓼𝓾𝓰𝓪𝓻 𝓿𝓮𝓲𝓷𝓼)

When the sergeant first arrived, it was nothing special. The fact that he was an omega was a surprise, but nothing more than a mildly interesting footnote as far as Ghost was concerned.

So no, his little infatuation with Soap was no ‘love at first sight’ bullshit.

His interest fluttered to life, not upon seeing Soap’s pretty face, or picking up on the sweet scent of an omega – but rather when he saw just how bloody and vicious the man could be.

𝓐𝓷𝓸𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓢𝓮𝓽 𝓸𝓯 𝓔𝔂𝓮𝓼

It took a second, but Ghost felt fury building up in his belly at the thought – some fucking wanker going around, finding people- leaving Johnny in the corner as if he was undesireable. As if he wasn’t the one thing that Ghost wanted to get his hands on at all times.

“He- what the fuck, Johnny? So he’s just having you sit back and watch-”

“I- no, no, that’s not-” Soap frowned, the expression almost more of a pout as he waved his hand dismissively. “He likes watchin’ me fuck around with other lads.”

~~~

Or, Soap's husband is into cucking. Soap... isn't so sure about it.

And if anyone is wondering, you can look at the end notes of "maybe i can waste your time" for the note tying this blog to my works :)

𝓵𝓸𝓸𝓴 𝓶𝓮 𝓲𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓲𝓻𝓻𝓸𝓻

Language: English Words: 2,455 Chapters: 1/1 Collections: 1

Being sent on leave was always a time of adjustment – it took a few days to settle back into the rhythm of civilian life. Losing the strictness of military schedules was hard, sometimes.

Sometimes it was nothing more than a relief – or a chance to let loose, indulge oneself in things that soldiers couldn't have while on base, much less on missions.

That's exactly what had driven Johnny this far, carefully tipping a large mirror against the wall.

Being left alone with Johnny made Ghost feel like he was on the edge of some insatiable pit. If he lingered too long, let his toes slip over the crumbling boundary between him and open air, he would never escape.

So, he was somewhat wary, but assumed it was some stupid tiktok when he saw that the keyboard-mash file name ended with a .mp4.

He wasn't prepared for what he saw when the app opened.

The thumbnail was gritty from the digital compression, but it was clear enough even behind the suddenly horrendously tempting play button.

He'd gotten a few notifications already. Annoying reminders from his games, something from the recipe app he'd downloaded the last time he had leave, some popular post on Twitter. But no texts, no calls, nothing to indicate that Ghost had reached out again, for any potential reason that he might have.

It had only served to drive his anxiety through the roof. He couldn't really remember what the hell he had been thinking last night.

"Sergeant," he muttered. "Are you going into heat?"

"Dinnae ken," the omega breathed, accent thick in his voice. "Ah shouldnae. Ah'm no' due fer it."

"Reactionary heat? Were you hit with anything?"

A shrug was all he got, before Johnny took in a deep breath and shuddered. "Ah should probably go lay down, sir."

"My voice?"

That made a slight tinge of pink crawl onto Johnny's cheeks, glad that Ghost wasn't there to see it. Maybe pointing it out was stupid of him, but he was already there. "Aye, sir. Chicks go wild for a bit of a growl like ye have."

The hum of consideration that rolled through comms made Johnny feel- quite a bit more than he would ever want to admit.

Maybe it was breaking his alpha instincts, letting another alpha fuck him like he did. Maybe he was unwittingly letting Ghost bitch him, but- it didn't feel like that. Not when Soap was fucking him just as often, just as harshly, just as thoroughly.

It felt more like a slow discovery of something he hadn’t let himself explore before, finding something new to enjoy. It felt especially true when he found out how much he loved being on his knees for Ghost, in any way, in any context.

His ruts were less a haze of possessive, sex-fueled rage, and more of a massive fucking discomfort. His skin always felt too tight, too small – like there was an itch under the layers of flesh, in his very bones that he couldn't reach.

But that was before he returned to Mexico. Before he spent what could've been hours helping his sergeant through bloody, rain-slick streets.

John: So, if you're not here for a relationship, what are you here for? ;)

Simon: I don't think most people on this app are here for relationships.

John: Lmao, you're not wrong

Simon: And I don't assume you're here for something like that either

John: Nope, just looking for some fun

~~~

How long will it take for "fun" to turn into more? Perhaps not as long as you'd think.

At first, it started with comments subtle enough that Ghost wasn't sure if the kid was actually flirting or just trying to flatter him. It took a while for him to build up to that tone filled with innuendo and swagger, the change slow enough that he didn’t even realize until Price was the one to cut it off in the middle of a goddamn mission. Soap had, of course, stopped running his mouth – for that mission at least.

It didn’t stop him from starting up again once they got to exfil, on their way back to base, or on every other goddamn mission.

~~~

Soap is down bad, and Ghost can't stand him. At least at first.

Johnny couldn't keep doing this.

Simon had, once again, gone to get fucking hammered at the bar. Usually Johnny would go with him, be a good boyfriend, and help him stumble up the stairs back to their room, but he just… couldn't, this time. He was tired of having to do it.

Gaz had tried to talk him into breaking up with the man before they left. Johnny told him that he would, even, because he was tired of it all. But, well…

~~~

Johnny's at the end of his rope with his shitty boyfriend, knowing that he can't keep dragging it out even longer. All it takes is one night to change that, though.

“Well, if you’re open to harebrained schemes, sir…”

Both Gaz and Price sighed, almost in stereo, and Soap snickered.

Still, Price held out the olive branch regardless. “What’s your stupid idea, then?”

“Let me lead him, sir,” he said, meeting Gaz’s eyes as the man gave him an incredulous look. “Let him chase me, I’ll get him out.”

“Soap, he’ll maul you,” Price protested immediately.

~~~

Aka, Ghost is in rut and incapacitated, but they need to get him out.

When the sergeant first arrived, it was nothing special. The fact that he was an omega was a surprise, but nothing more than a mildly interesting footnote as far as Ghost was concerned.

So no, his little infatuation with Soap was no ‘love at first sight’ bullshit.

His interest fluttered to life, not upon seeing Soap’s pretty face, or picking up on the sweet scent of an omega – but rather when he saw just how bloody and vicious the man could be.

It took a second, but Ghost felt fury building up in his belly at the thought – some fucking wanker going around, finding people- leaving Johnny in the corner as if he was undesireable. As if he wasn’t the one thing that Ghost wanted to get his hands on at all times.

“He- what the fuck, Johnny? So he’s just having you sit back and watch-”

“I- no, no, that’s not-” Soap frowned, the expression almost more of a pout as he waved his hand dismissively. “He likes watchin’ me fuck around with other lads.”

~~~

Or, Soap's husband is into cucking. Soap... isn't so sure about it.

what do we think???

[felikatze]

idk if you still have thoughts of library of ruina but i would love to hear about an analysis on the floor realizations (it doesn't have to be all of them, it's up to you on which ones or if you want to do this).

you're gonna have to forgive inaccuracies since these thoughs have been crystalized in stasis in my brain since i first got thru lor and i KEEP meaning to reread the story but i never do because (gestures vaguely at the past four month of me being exclusively obsessed with FE)

i dont have a lot of thoughts on them overall besides "ohh coool" most of the time BUT

i really love tiphereth's.

i think the pick of the magical girls is GENIUS. at first it's easy to brush off as "she's the young kid so she gets the shojo squad" but it actually ties into the magical girl lore extremely well.

tiph's topic of discussion is "the meaning of life," centered on how tiph struggled to go on after enoch's death and, after her core supression in lobcorp, letting tiph B die forever. The constant replacement of Tiph B and his subsequent shutdowns really just hammered home Tiph A's inability to let go. But now that she has, now that she's made that step forward, what then?

And this is EXACTLY what the magical girls are all about. the premise of the magical girls is that they did it. they defeated the great evil. the world is saved. but now their fighting has no use anymore. all of them struggle to fill the void left behind by their battle. Queen of Hatred enacts evil so she can "defeat" it, Knight of Despair, well, despairs over everything she could not save, and King of Greed gave herself to her earthly desires. It's all maladaptive self-destruction.

Servant of Wrath in particular is an interesting parallel, since they had a mini arc centered on them in Wonderlab. They were separated from a friend, and try to fill that connection by any means; particularly, befriending an Agent. This, of course, ends in that Agent's death, and Servant of Wrath's friend abandons them. Since LoR directly posits the parallel, it's easy to see Tiph replacing Enoch over and over again in this. Particularly because Servant of Wrath had friends before the newest one. Three guesses what happened.

And then, of course, there's how all this parallels to Roland. Roland's backstory is presented in reverse through the middle tier of the library, starting here: Roland, who has lost everything. His wife, his unborn child, his home, his purpose. We are shown Roland in depression, alone in his apartment, adorned by an unused mobile.

I made a joke post once about one of Roland and Tiph's first interactions. Tiph offhandedly mentions Enoch, to which Roland teases her by asking if he's her boyfriend. She says he's dead. Roland, the dead wife haver, instantly regrets this.

And like. That's the thing!! These two suckers both lost people they care about. Tiph was similar to Roland in that she just floundered after the lab crew bit it. She lashed out at others, mainly Tiph B and the Upper Sephirah, out of her own powerlessness.

But now!! Look at her!! She has expectations for the future that stem from her past experiences. She's not living for Enoch. She can't. He's gone. But she can finally understand what he wanted from life: to make it better. And that's something anyone can work toward. Everybody has expectations for the future, and sometimes, often even, those expectations will be shattered. Whether your goal is failed or you succeed, you need to find the next thing on the horizon.

But... if you can't, then that's okay. If you don't expect anything from life, or can't bring yourself to, it's still good enough. Because "the meaning of life" and "the value of life" are different. Tiph decided her meaning of life is a better tomorrow, and Roland decided his meaning of life is that it has none at all, but both their lives are equally valuable, just by being.

The magical girls still tried to fulfill an expectation that was already completed. That's a fool's errand, though, and that's what destroyed them.

I just. I just think Tiph's realization is very nice, is all. The way the three-way parallels between Tiph, Roland, and the Magical Girls play off is intensely satisfying to me. Interpreting each of them through the lens of the other is really cool to do, and brings up new sides to all of them.

[helenofblackthorns]

(this got way too long i'm sorry lol) don't even get me started on the timeline there's so much that doesn't make sense!! i've tried to map it out because i am insane but i am definitely putting more thought into this than cc herself. like, in the days past 1900 chapter cordelia mentions that she's 13, when it's literally impossible for her to be 13 that year ????

and lowkey i am just very excited to see someone else mention the mess that it is the timeline because i've been thinking about when alastair and thomas must have gone on their travel year (and also during that travel year when thomas must have gone to paris because they wouldn't just give him a holiday immediately right, like it must have been december 1902 they met, yes i am overthinking this) for years lol

my best guess is that charles arranged to marry ariadne in early 1901 but it wasn't officially announced?? it was just an arrangement/promise and then he went to paris and met alastair later that year (though i think they'd already met yikes) and they dated sometime in 1901 (where alastair would have been 16-17 /yikes/), for any of this to work i think we just have to accept that shadowhunters can go on their year abroad before they turn 18, or maybe alastair wanted to get out of the house :( and then maybe charles told alastair of the engagement a little bit into their relationship?? don't even get me started on thomas' travel year, we know it lasted 9 months, was from 1902 to 1903 and he had come back fairly recently in august (and tbh i'm gonna stretch that definition of recent and just say the thieves are all being dramatic when they're still toasting him coming back at the beginning of chog). but he also took two weeks holiday in 1902 and saw alastair (who i have to assume was secretly visiting charles since if he was still on his travel year, he could have just said that instead of being cryptic and hilarious lol) anyways in conclusion the timeline is a mess

i thought cordelia's birthday must be really late in the year but i did not realise this means it would be impossible for her to have her parabatai ceremony lol, okay i can't work out that one unless everyone's straight up lying or don't know their own birthdays

anyways i clearly think about this way too much, sorry for rambling in your inbox, you did not ask for this lmao i have just had many thoughts about timelines from like two years ago that all bubbled up to the surface when i saw your post

okay I am finally answering this, I am so so sorry about the wait </3

honestly when it comes to timelines, I think cc just kinda says things vaguely enough that it makes sense as long as you don't think about it too hard lmao. Also I did not know Cordelia said she was 13 in 1900... In order for that to be possible she'd have to be born in either 1886 or 1887. I wonder if cc just forgot she had said Cordelia was born in 1885? that seems like the only viable option here 😭

Paris 1902 is so bad because a lot of the things that contradict it are in the same book 💀 like with other stuff at the very least you can give cc the benefit of the doubt that she forgot between writing short stories and whatnot. but the same book!! insanity!!

I don't think there's any way to twist it in order for it to make sense? like something has to be wrong. best I've got is Thomas turned 18 in Jan, went on travel year for roughly 8 months meaning he gets back to London right before the start of ChoG in August. He met Alastair in Paris in like, March or April 1903 when he was finishing up his travel year and Alastair was being cryptic just because. Charles and Alastair met in Sept. 1902 when Alastair went on his travel year to Paris; Charles and Ari are already engaged by this point (technically) and every other conflicting detail gets throw out the nearest window lmao. for me at least, shadowhunters going on their travel year before turning 18 defeats the purpose, which is to go on patrol and fight demons in a different country. and if they were able to at 17, I think there's several characters who would be currently on their travel year, like James and Matthew, and who obviously aren't.

The parabatai ceremony thing is annoying because cc actual reconned it :) in the codex it says you have be in childhood to become parabatai, and this is supported by Jem in clockwork prince. however, in tfsa, Simon is still able to become parabatai with Clary despite already turning 18, so now shadowhunters are considered children up until 19 but this only applies to the parabatai ceremony because in every other aspect of life they become adults at 18. this makes sense (not). personally i am of the option that Cordelia turning 18 and being unable to become parabatai with Lucie would have been more interesting, and added some stakes that chot desperately needed. plus it would be funny if they still became parabatai in the end because Will and Jem pulled some strings (the benefits of nepotism 😌)

the timeline of tlh is one of my great enemies at this point and I've held my tongue about it for far too long, so don't feel bad about rambling! (even if it takes me 3 months to reply 🫣)

[dreamerstreamer]

Human GPS

Pairing: c!Technoblade x f!reader

Summary: [Dream SMP!AU] Technoblade really needs some books of mending, and you just happen to be the daughter of the village cleric.

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: this a repost of the first ever story i posted when i first made my blog. this story takes place back when technoblade was still allied with pogtopia. i hope you like it as much as i did! <3

Technoblade blinked, his eyes squinting up at the clear, cerulean sky. It was about midday now, and the beating sun sat in the center of the sky, almost taunting him from where it hung.

If the sun is directly above me, he thought, then west must be… He frowned. Somewhere. Maybe.

He groaned and swung his legs off of Carl, the horse letting out a soft whinny as he hopped onto the ground. He had been travelling for what must have been close to an hour now, and he still hadn’t found a village. It was almost like the universe was trying to waste his time. All he wanted was to get his hands on some books of mending so he didn’t have to worry about any of his armour breaking, yet the world was sending him on a wild goose chase, anyways.

“Seriously,” he muttered, irritation gnawing away at his already dwindling patience, “how hard can it be to find just one cleric? It’s not like I’m asking to find a woodland mansion, or something.”

Letting out yet another long groan, Technoblade flipped open the pack he attached to Carl’s saddle. He pulled out a baked potato and bit in, allowing himself a few seconds of relief as he ate.

For a brief moment, he considered digging through his bag to look for a compass or—better yet—a map. But then he remembered that just prior to leaving, he had reminded himself that he was a human GPS and that “Technoblade never fails.”

He sighed. No compass, it is.

He took another bite of the potato in his hands, looking around at the terrain around him. There was a lush birch forest to his left and a barren desert on the opposite side. Just a little to his right was a river and—

Wait a second.

Technoblade froze, his jaw freezing halfway through chewing another bite of potato.

He recognized that river.

A wide grin split across his lips.

He totally knew where to find a village.

Doing his best not to choke, Technoblade stuffed the rest of the baked potato in his mouth and buckled his pack shut. With a grunt, he pulled himself back onto Carl, picking up the reins. “Like I said, Carl, who even needs a compass? I’ve got the map memorized, and my inner compass is perfectly calibrated.”

Carl looked back at him and let out an almost sarcastic sounding neigh that seemed to say, “Sure.”

Technoblade’s face rolled his eyes. He snapped the reins once, and Carl charged forward.

The human GPS never failed.

You let out an ecstatic cry as you pushed the last book in your hands onto the creaky bookshelf, stepping back to look at your work in pride. You’d been organizing the library for a little over half the day now, and you were almost finished. Each shelf was now in alphabetical order.

Dusting off your skirt, you took one last glance at the shelves before settling down at the table in the corner of the room, looking over the to-do list you had set out for yourself the night before. “Let’s see,” you hummed to yourself, “I already dusted all the tabletops, mopped the floor, and delivered that order to Mr. Hart. Now I can check ‘organize bookshelves’ off the list, too.”

You set the quill down on the table. “Meanwhile, dad’s out trading with Mrs. Lee and said he would be back soon.” You stared down at the page for a moment longer before sighing. A frown etched itself onto your features. You leaned your elbows on the oak tabletop as your gaze trailed out the church window and up at the cloudless sky.

You had lived in the village your whole life with your father, the village cleric. Everything was peaceful and you loved the familiar environment you resided in, but things had also become so… boring in the village. So bland, so dull. You can’t even remember the last time you did something fun. Sure, you were productive and made sure to help your father around his workspace the best you could, but you wanted more than this.

Please, you thought to yourself, squeezing your eyes shut in a silent prayer. Please, please, please let something new and exciting happen. At least just once in my life.

All of a sudden, you heard a distant rumbling.

You sat up straight, blinking awake from your reverie. What’s that sound?

The rumbling grew louder, and you could now recognize it as the galloping of a horse. Your thoughts were only confirmed by the loud whinny you heard right after the rumbles stopped.

You pushed your chair back, standing up from the table and walking over to the front window, crouching down to peek outside. You squinted, your eyes scanning around outside before they landed on an unfamiliar shape.

Your heart suddenly barrelled over in your chest.

Sitting atop a horse wearing diamond armour in the center of the village square was a stranger.

His back was facing you, but from what you could see of him, the first thing you noticed was the crimson robe hanging off his shoulders, cascading down his back like a scarlet waterfall. An axe was strapped to his back, tinted with a murky, violet hue. His hair was a vibrant shade of cherry blossom pink like nothing you had ever laid eyes on before, and on his head sat a golden crown encrusted with glittering gems. You wondered what his face looked like, curiosity bubbling in your chest.

Just then, he slid off his horse, landing on the ground with a small thump. He stood tall and proud, turning his head this way and that as he looked around at the houses around him, an air of regality surrounding him.

Then, he turned.

Your eyes only met for a fraction of a second before you immediately ducked down, hiding your figure from view in the window. The moment you were out of sight, you stilled, doing your best not to give yourself away.

He was handsome.

His face was calm and demure, reflecting his royal air almost perfectly, and his eyes, like his robe, were a piercing crimson red. They almost seemed to stare into your soul, laying every part of yourself bare for him to see.

He looked like a king in every sense of the word, and you just had to meet him.

Your heart was thrumming wildly in your chest as you struggled to regain your breath. You peeked over the windowsill carefully, glancing past the glass outside once more. The stranger had tied his horse to a post in the square and was walking around, glancing at the villagers here and there. Most of them seemed to be slightly wary of him—after all, it wasn’t everyday a king showed up at your doorstep. He seemed to be looking for something with the way he kept looking around him, his eyes sweeping over every inch of the village. Perhaps you could help him.

Slowly, you slid away from the windowsill and carefully clicked open the front door, stepping outside. The sun shone brilliantly on your face as you made your way toward the stranger. Once again, his back was turned to you, and you stopped a few feet behind him. Taking a deep breath, you mustered up what courage you had before speaking.

“Hello.”

The man turned at the sudden sound of your voice, his scarlet eyes piercing into yours. “Oh, hello.” His voice was deep, laced with a low rasp that sent a shiver down your spine.

Your offered him a warm smile. “Welcome to our humble village. I’m [Y/N].” You extended your hand, and he took it in a friendly handshake, smiling back.

“The name’s Technoblade.”

Your eyebrows quirked. “Technoblade,” you repeated. “That’s a unique name.”

“Thanks,” he said, jokingly adding, “I got it for my birthday.”

You giggled at that. He may look regal and intimidating, but right off the bat, it seemed that his personality was far from it. “You know what they say, a bad joke is always the best way to leave a good first impression.”

He frowned, feigning sadness. “Oh, c’mon, it wasn’t that bad.”

Your lips twitched. “Well, I laughed at it, so I’ll give you that.” His face lit up once more, and you felt your stomach churn with warmth. “Well, what brings you here?”

He gestured to the pack he had clipped to his belt. “Just looking to do a few trades, really.”

You looked at him in confusion. “A king? Trading with commoners like us?”

He blinked for a moment. “Ah, about that, I’m not really a king, per se.” He plucked his crown from off his head, tossing it casually in his hands. “The crown and robes are more for… aesthetic purposes, to say the least. I don’t really rule over my own country or anything.

Your tilted your head at him. “Where do you come from, then? I can only imagine you travelled for a while to get here.”

He shrugged. “It was kind of far, but it wasn’t a big deal, really. I never got lost.”

You raised your eyebrows at him. “Never?” you said.

“Never,” he confirmed. His grinned smugly, your heart reeling at the sight. “I’m a human GPS, if you will.”

You stifled a laugh but couldn’t hide your smile. What a dork. “Totally.”

His grin only widened. “Anyways, I’m from this place called Pogtopia.” You must have made a face at his words, because he laughed at you and god, even his laugh was pretty. “Yeah, it’s kind of a funny name, isn’t it? Well, I didn’t come up with it. My friends Tommy and Wilbur did.”

“They must be…” You looked for a good word. “…interesting people.”

He laughed. “It’s okay—you’re allowed to say they have bad taste in names.”

You giggled, your cheeks flushing in slight embarrassment. “Okay, yeah, their taste is pretty poor.” You glanced at him. “Are they the kings of your country then, since they named it?”

“Kind of. I guess you could call them kings, but they’re more like self-instated presidents, even though that kind of defeats the whole purpose of having a president.” You nodded, following along in agreement. “They’re trying to win back some land they were exiled from a while back called L’Manberg, although it was recently renamed Manberg, but there’s also Dream and his SMP, and—” He sighed, running a hand through his rosy locks. “It’s complicated. Basically, we’re sort of in the middle of this war, and I just kind of got roped into it.”

Your eyes widened in alarm. “A war?! Surely we wouldn’t get involved, right?” Your village, like many others, was a pacifist group of people, having no source of defense or battle skills to protect yourselves with. If this supposed war came all the way to your little village, all of you would surely perish.

Technoblade raised his arms in front of him, quickly shaking his head. “Oh, definitely not. You’ve got nothing to worry about, I swear.”

You pressed a hand to your chest as you let out a breath of relief. “Oh, thank goodness.” Technoblade smiled at you from the corner of your eye, amusement lacing his lips. You suddenly straightened, another thought popping into your head. “What about you, then? Aren’t you worried?”

He laughed again, though it sounded more like a cackle. “Me? Worried? Nahhh.” He swung his axe off his back, being careful to point it away from you. “I may not look like it, but I’m actually one of the most feared warriors in the land. Tommy and Wilbur basically begged me to join their side so I can help them win.” He gestured to himself. “You don’t have to believe me, but I think it’s pretty clear to see I’m pretty much a god at PVP.”

You hummed, shaking your head. “No, I believe you. You do look like you could seriously teach someone a thing or two with that axe, but I really don’t think I need to feed your ego anymore.” You smiled bemusedly. “It already seems to be quite large on its own.”

His grin dropped. “Wait, please, feed my ego, I thrive off complime—”

A giggle escaped your mouth as you waved your hand at him. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” Your expression grew a bit more serious. “But honestly, you’re not scared? Even a little?”

Technoblade shook his head. “Nope. A war is just a lot of fights lined up one after the other, and I’m great at winning fights. Heck, I could probably wipe out the other side in a heartbeat with what I’ve got in my arsenal. Tommy and Wilbur might just send me out by myself to do just that.”

“They would?” you said in disbelief. “Aren’t they worried for you, either?”

He snorted. “They were the ones who wanted me here to help them win, so they definitely aren’t worried.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. Well, that was no good—no good at all. Wasn’t a single person concerned for this man’s safety, not even just one? No matter how powerful he may be, this was a war you two were talking about, and wars don’t always go according to plan.

Suddenly, it hit you.

“I see,” you murmured. You raised your chin, resolve filling your veins. “Then I’ll worry for you.”

Technoblade stared at you for a long moment, stunned into silence. Panicking, you began to ramble. “You and your friends may have overwhelming confidence in you and your abilities,” you said, “but it’s still important that you recognize that sometimes things don’t go according to plan. That’s why you should worry, and if you won’t, then I’ll do it in your stead.”

When he still didn’t say anything after yet another moment, you felt embarrassment rise up in you. “I’m sorry, we just met and that was totally uncalled for of m—”

“No, no, really,” he abruptly said, shaking his head. “It’s all good. Seriously.” There was a slight pause. Then, he softly added, “Thank you. I appreciate your concern.”

His lips curled to form a smile, but this one was different from the ones he gave you before. Those ones were proud and teasing, full of mirth and some level of arrogance. But this one was softer, kinder. More genuine and real.

You liked this one more.

Still feeling slightly embarrassed from having just rambled about caring about a near stranger to his face, you quickly shifted gears. “W-Well, I should probably ask what exactly you wanted to trade for,” you said as your cheeks flushed pink. You lowered your gaze to the ground, trying to avert your eyes from his. “I can probably help you find whatever it is you need.”

Technoblade hummed. “I have a bunch of stuff with me that I can use to trade, but I’m looking for a cleric to get some mending books from.”

Your head shot up in recognition. “A cleric, you say?” Your lips curled into a small grin when he nodded. “I know just where to find him. Wait here for a minute, okay?”

As soon as he nodded his head once more, you had already taken off, bounding down the grassy path with your skirt trailing behind you. Technoblade’s gaze followed you as you rushed down the path, a pleasant warmth bubbling in the pit of stomach and he watched you run off.

Usually whenever he came to a village, the people he met were wary of him and hardly ever spoke more than the bare minimum to him. Most of them were intimidated by his appearance, others thrown off by his cockiness. And yet here you were, treating him like a friend when so many before you had done the exact opposite. You were kind, compassionate, and you saw more than just his arrogant exterior. You genuinely cared for the person he was underneath the crown and the robes. Not to mention, you were quite the sight for sore eyes.

Warmth blossomed in his chest and something fluttered in his stomach.

He was glad he came to this village.

To say your father was more than pleased to trade some books of mending for the stacks upon stacks of emeralds Technoblade had was an understatement.

“I thought you said you weren’t a king,” you said to him, your eyes nearly bulging out of your head when you saw him open his pack.

“I’m not,” Technoblade said, twirling an emerald between his fingers. “I just happen to be very wealthy.”

You shook your head at him, a smile gracing your lips. “You’re a maniac.”

He shot you a smug look. “Oh, don’t I know it.”

After he had traded for some mending books with your father, he had asked you if your village had a fletcher.

“Oh, I made a delivery to Mr. Hart earlier today,” you said. “Here, follow me.”

The trek to the other side of the village was short enough, and you were content to wait on the sides while Technoblade made some negotiations. Just then, Mrs. Lee spotted you and strode up to you.

“Good afternoon, [Y/N],” she greeted, her lips tilting into a familiar gentle smile.

“Hello, Mrs. Lee!” you chirped happily, turning to face her. “Thank you for the pumpkins, earlier today! I’ll be sure to give you some of the pumpkin pie I bake tomorrow.”

“Why, there’s no need for you to do that, dear.” She leaned close to your ear to whisper, “You know you’re my favourite of the youngins here.”

You blushed. “You know that’s not true.”

She held a finger to her lips. “It’s our little secret, alright?” She looked over your shoulder at Technoblade, who was still debating with Mr. Hart. “Looks like you’ve become acquainted with our visitor, haven’t you, dear?”

Your blush deepened. “Y-Yes! I have. His name is Technoblade and he comes from a country called Pogtopia. He traded for some books with my father just now.”

Mrs. Lee wrinkled her nose. “Weird name, the both of them, but never mind that.” She smirked at you, glancing just behind you. “He’s quite the looker, isn’t he?”

Your face exploded like a bright red tomato. “I-I, um, he’s. Um.” You took a deep breath and fanned your face, lowering your voice. “He’s handsome.”

Her smirk only grew larger. “I hope the two of you become even more acquainted then,” she said cryptically, patting your shoulder. “I’ll be on my way now, but do let me know how it goes, okay?”

You nodded dutifully, too embarrassed to say anything else. Mrs. Lee turned away and continued her way down the grassy path, smiling to herself.

If only you had seen the way he had looked at you.

Hours had passed since Technoblade had first arrived in the village, and the sun was just beginning to set. The two of you had visited just about every working person in the village, chatting away as Technoblade traded for whatever he needed from each person you two saw.

The two of you learned a lot about each other in the time you spent together. You learned that Technoblade wasn’t a huge fan of government and much preferred anarchy. He learned that you longed for something much more than your normal life in the village, but you had yet to discover what it was you wanted to do. You learned that he owned a dog named Floof. He learned the location of your favourite spot in the village. By the end of the day, it felt like you two had known each other for ages.

You secretly hoped that he would stay, but you knew that he couldn’t. The village wasn’t his home, after all.

You stood nearby as Technoblade strapped his pack back onto Carl’s saddle, chewing the inside of your lip. He climbed onto Carl, securing his axe on his back and picking up the reins in his hands. “Well, [Y/N],” he said, a hint of disappointment tinging his voice, “it looks like this is goodbye.”

“I guess so,” you murmured sadly, casting your gaze down at your feet. You had only known him for so long, but an overwhelming sense of loss filled you knowing that Technoblade was leaving and may very well never return. He was funny with his dry, dorky sense of humour and charming with his sharp grins and deep voice.

You weren’t sure you were quite ready to let go just yet.

“Um,” you spoke up, your voice cracking a little, “will you…” You peeked up at him, nervously biting the inside of your cheek as you fiddled with your fingers. “Will you ever come back?”

Something in Technoblade’s chest seized at the shy look on your face, your cheeks rosy and your gaze darting back and forth between his eyes and the ground. While he had originally only come in search of this village to trade with a cleric, he supposed he might always need more mending books in the future. Not to mention, he would also get to see you.

He smiled, letting out a soft laugh. “Yeah,” he said, “I’ll be back, so wait up for me, yeah?”

Your eyes lit up and an elated grin spread across your face. “I-I will!”

He chuckled at your giddiness, his own heart beating wildly against his rib cage. “Good.”

Sharing one last look with you, he snapped his reins and held on tight as Carl dashed forward, his gaze trailing behind him as he watched you wave your arms frantically at him. He couldn’t help but crack a smile at your enthusiasm, raising his arm to wave back at you himself. He kept waving until he could no longer see you, and only then did he face forward to find his way home.

The journey back was significantly shorter than the trip to the village, and before he knew it, he was tying Carl to his usual fence post. He was a human GPS, after all. How else would he have found the village—and you—with so much ease?

He tilted his head up, looking up at the rising moon in the east. Now he knew that the village (and you, his heart helpfully supplied once more) lay to the west, just beyond the birch forest, desert, and river. Above him, he could make out the shapes of a handful of constellations, the stars twinkling and winking down at him from space. He wondered if you were looking up at the same starry sky as him. He wondered if your stomach was full of butterflies, too.

“So,” he mused to himself aloud, his heart thump-thump-thumping in his chest, “[Y/N], huh?”

He was definitely going back.

[theerurishipper]

You're the one who keeps missing my point. You can empathize with her circumstances all you want but that doesn't absolve her of blame. I made a post calling her out for her harmful actions and you came onto it to defend her. Good people can make mistakes and they deserve to be called out. You keep saying that you know what she's doing is wrong, but it's wrong for me to call her out?? You say you know it's not an excuse. So stop excusing her.

She doesn't "keep apologizing." She tells him she needs him, and then she continues to keep secrets from him and lie to him. Kinda defeats the purpose of apologizing huh? You say she wanted to correct her mistakes, but she did not do it. Ultimately, he ended up accepting that she's going to treat him poorly and she just never did anything to fix it. I mean lip service as in she says she considers him irreplaceable and then pretty much replaces him as her partner with Alya. That's lip service. And what do you mean "I can see she IS doing it unlike you." What am I supposed to do? Do you think I'm a character in the show? Do you think they are real people? Lmao.

Adrien says Ladybug makes him feel free in Lies, the second episode of Season 4, before Ladybug gets all controlling and secretive. But I guess you can only really make your point if you ignore everything that came after. Or if you are referring to the finale when he says it to Marinette, that is when he doesn't know she's covering for his abuser.

You keep saying "she doesn't know it will hurt him," and "she'll stop once she knows," and "she's just a kid and Gabriel manipulated her." That's all well and good, but those are all excuses. And I don't care for excuses. I will criticize her until she actually resolves it in the show. I don't think it's going to happen, and I am well within my rights to post about it. She is lying to a victim of abuse and denying him his agency and ability to make his own choices, and if you cannot see how fucked up that is, I cannot help you.

"Adrien will keep forgiving her" because deep down that's how he is towards her and you know it like stop self inserting onto him just because you want to punish marinette for lying again.

I don't want to punish Marinette. I want Adrien to be allowed to make his own decisions and express him emotions. I want him to put himself first. I want him to stop being forgiving of her over and over even though she never seems to correct her behavior. You seem to think him forgiving her over and over is some wonderful thing where she always expresses remorse and does better, and he forgives her because he trusts her but that's not how it is at all. He keeps forgiving her because he has been conditioned to believe his feelings don't matter! He's doing it because he's an abuse victim, not because Marinette apologized and fixed her mistake. He keeps forgiving her for the same mistake over and over again and she doesn't correct it, and he doesn't dare ask for more because he doesn't think his emotions are valid, and he thinks he has to downplay his emotions to make her happy! "because deep down that's how he is towards her" He shouldn't be that way towards her! It is not that hard to understand. Adrien is a compassionate and forgiving person, but it is being taken to an unhealthy extent because of the abuse he suffers, and that is why he is so unconditionally forgiving of Marinette without her even apologizing.

I don't self-insert into Adrien. I just recognize that the Love Square is toxic and that them staying together would be unhealthy for both of them. I agree that this isn't My Little Pony. Which is why simply "talking it out" is not going to be enough to fix this. They are both deeply traumatized and being around each other is only making it worse. They need to be apart to heal and then they can get back together. I don't understand how me saying that their relationship is toxic and that they need to work on themselves before giving their relationship another go is me "making this a problem."

Ok adrien would hold her accountable for lying and that will happen, are you happy now????

Yes. If it happens, I will be happy.

You told this 68798 times that "he puts her feelings first again and again and SO DOES marinette my brother in christ that's why she lied because she put his feelings first and not devastate him by giving the news at that time. Maybe the guilt would later eat her alive and she would tell him the truth who knows???

The thing about emotional support is that it is not supposed to hurt the other person. And what Marinette is doing isn't emotional support. She's just manipulating him and lying to him. She isn't putting his feelings first; she's putting her feelings about his feelings first. She's deciding things for him and denying him the ability to make his own choices. If that's her putting him first then I hope Marinette never tries to help anyone ever again. No matter what she thinks, what she's doing is wrong. Simple as that. You don't have to keep telling me her perspective because it does not matter.

I know we lost hope in writers but let's just act this is how it's gonna happen. Adrien's main goal should be to destroy gabriel's influence/legacy. His character agency shouldn't revolve around marinette alone. Also relationships can be hectic. They have a long journey of working things out. This isn't an end but you're treating like it's the end of the world. That's a you problem.

That's right. I did lose hope in the writers. Because they portrayed Marinette manipulating Adrien as a good thing, and I am pretty sure they won't address it again. They made the choice to have their main character follow in the footsteps of her love interest's abusive father. And they portrayed it as a good thing. And until I see that this issue has been adequately addressed and resolved, I will keep criticizing this narrative choice.

The problem with this is that Adrien's character does revolve around Marinette. Adrien's arc wasn't to destroy Gabriel's legacy, it was to free himself from Gabriel. It was for him to find his own identity and self-worth. It was for him to be able to break free from his abusive father. But Marinette did that for him. He spent the conclusion of his arc locked up while Marinette called out his father for him. Adrien only existed as a character so that Marinette could have a connection to the Agreste plot. Adrien only existed so that Marinette could save him from his father and claim him as a trophy for winning. Adrien's character is just being Marinette's Love Interest. His character agency is already revolving around Marinette. And I doubt the seasons with Lila, who is Marinette's antagonist, will have Adrien in the spotlight when the narrative couldn't be arsed to give him his moment in his own arc.

There is a difference between hectic relationships and ones that are outright toxic. Hectic relationships don't have one side behaving like their boyfriend's abuser. Hectic relationships don't have one side benefitting from the effects of their boyfriend's abuse at his father's hands. Hectic relationships aren't rife with codependency. And as long as the narrative portrays this as good, I will keep calling it out. It's not a me problem to point out the toxicity of the ship in canon that the writers don't want to acknowledge. It's a writing problem and I am allowed to take issue with it.

And yes. Fuck the context. Because the context doesn't matter when someone is being hurt by your actions. I do empathize with Marinette's situation, but I will not let her reasons excuse her actions. She's making a mistake and I want her to be called out for it. I don't want her to be instantly forgiven. I don't want this to be another instance of Adrien putting his feelings aside to forgive her and her never learning anything and doing the same things again. And yes, Gabriel carries the most blame for this. But Marinette carries the blame for her role and her actions. The others who are keeping the secret from Adrien are also to blame. It is not unfair or "hate" to call out the characters for their mistakes. I worry about this affecting Adrien and not Marinette because he is the victim here and Marinette is the one hurting him. And it's frankly not a good look for everyone to focus on the feelings of the one who is doing the hurting than the one who is being hurt and expecting that all should be forgiven instantly because Adrienette is canon and Marinette deserves her trophy-boyfriend.

Don't use "bad writing" card, you do not care about marinette just say that. Everyone knows this is messed up even the finale ending suggests it like THAT'S THE WHOLE POINT it is meant to evoke this feeling what is NOT CLICKING

I will use the bad writing card. Because the writing is bad. That is why I'm writing these posts. Because the writing portrayed Marinette behaving like Gabriel and everyone accepted it like it was nothing. The writing portrayed Marinette manipulating Adrien as a good thing. The narrative destroyed the agency of an abused child and said that he was too emotional to make his own choices. The narrative destroyed these two characters and that is why I am writing this post. I don't care for Marinette's actions in the finale. I do care for Marinette, and I do care that the writing screwed her over as well. What I don't care for is the way the fandom is jumping to defend this writing by regurgitating bullshit like "Adrien isn't emotionally mature enough to know the truth." I don't care for the writers straight up committing abuse apologism by writing a redemption for the abuser and portraying denying the abuse victim his independence and autonomy as good thing.

I am not writing these posts because I think Marinette should be punished or that she, if written correctly, would not feel guilt over this. I am writing this because people like you keep defending her and excusing her of blame. If you acknowledge that she's making a mistake, you'll let people call her out for it. I'm calling her out because so many people don't seem to find any issues with the fucked up thing she's doing to Adrien. I'm calling her out because the writers want to portray this as a good thing and a selfless thing. I am writing this post because I don't believe that the writers will resolve this. I don't think she will change her behavior because it is not portrayed as wrong in the first place. And I don't like how the fandom is accepting this flawed narrative for what it is and is not recognizing just how fucked up Marinette's actions are.

Lots of people are holding onto the excuse of a resolution in Season 6, but that's highly unlikely, and I don't think this is going to be brought up again. There is nothing to suggest that this is not supposed to be a happy finale and that they are setting up something for Season 6. The show was supposed to end this way before the new seasons were greenlit. And the set up for the next arc is something to do with Lila, and the Agreste arc is over for all intents and purposes. An excuse of a hypothetical Season 6 resolution that you don't know will happen does not invalidate my criticism. In fact, that's why I'm "making it a problem." Because the show won't acknowledge that it is a problem, and I don't like that. Because the show won't fix this mess, and I'm criticizing the bad writing. I am allowed to do that.

It's so funny because my entire post was about how the writers and people in the fandom always neglect Adrien's perspective about his own issues in favor of Marinette being sad about Adrien's issues. It was about how the writing and even the fandom downplays Adrien's feelings to prioritize Marinette's. It was about how Adrien's right to be angry at her is always sidestepped and the fact that he would forgive her is always emphasized because the only thing that matters about the entire situation is that Adrienette shouldn't break up, not the genuinely fucked up things that Marinette is doing to Adrien. It was about how the fandom always tries to justify and excuse Marinette for her actions because of her trauma. And you came onto my post about that to justify Marinette. You literally just proved my point. I don't know what else to say to you. It's obvious that I am not going to change your mind, and there is no reason for us to continue this discussion. Let's just agree to disagree. Have a good day.

This is just an unstructured, incoherent vent post, but I've seen a few posts recently about how Adrien would definitely forgive Marinette for keeping secrets from him because he loves her, or that he would blame himself for not noticing what was going on and not her. And those aren't wrong, per se, but this is what I mean by the show taking away Adrien's agency. Ultimately his choices are allowed only as far as they do not inconvenience Marinette or anyone else the narrative cares about, like Felix or Nathalie. Which is why Adrien is not allowed to grow, he is not allowed to prioritize his own feelings and emotional needs. Any wrong done to him is resolved by him putting aside his own feelings to forgive the people who wronged him. And yes, he has been taught that his feelings don't matter by Gabriel and that he should bend over to the whims of everybody around him. And that kind of makes it worse, how the effect of Gabriel's abuse is used to convenience everyone around him. I think it's gross.

Just look at the Ladynoir conflict from Season 4. Adrien brings up his grievances with Ladybug's treatment of him a few times, but ultimately, he ends up putting it aside to focus on her emotional needs when she is at her lowest. Kuro Neko gave us the message that it wasn't that Ladybug was treating Chat Noir unfairly, but that Chat Noir should stop expecting to be treated with respect and should stop having emotional needs. And at the end of Strikeback, nothing is resolved, Ladybug hasn't apologized to him or resolved to do better by him, but he still shows up to her side to comfort her. No, she didn't apologize to him. She admitted her mistakes but did little to correct them even after the fact. That whole arc ended with Chat Noir being treated poorly over and over, and yet coming back to Ladybug's side because he's such a good partner and he loves her so much.

And Adrien, a character who has been forced his whole life to bend to the whims of others to please them at his expense is doing the same thing to Ladybug. Adrien exhibiting this behavior is 100% a trauma response. Ladybug is supposed to be his escape from his abusive homelife. And yet, the show writes him falling back into his trauma responses with her (Kuro Neko) and does jack shit to portray it as a bad thing. And the Season 4 finale is once again Adrien putting aside his feelings and showing up to support her. Adrien's emotions are not validated, they are tossed aside. Ladybug admitted her mistakes as she did several times through Season 4, but she still did little to correct them. That admission in Strikeback doesn't do much, because we never see her do anything to fix her mistakes after that. What happened was that Chat Noir saw her in distress and decided his feelings were unimportant because she needed support.

This is not healthy. Adrien should not be invalidating his own feelings so that he can offer comfort to others. He shouldn't forget and forgive so quickly without the other person doing anything to correct their behavior towards him. Once again, this is how Gabriel has taught him to behave, to stop "being so emotional" and to conform to his expectations. And Adrien continuously downplays his own issues for others' sake. And obviously, we would understand that he can heal from this, that he can learn to take care of his own emotional needs first.

And quite frankly, all the posts about how we shouldn't want Adrien and Marinette to break up, or how we shouldn't be so hard on Marinette, or that she is just a child in tough situation, or that she is doing it out of love and that Adrien would forgive her kinda make my point. Because let's be real. What Marinette did is a serious breach of trust. I do not understand how anyone could forgive something like that quickly. And I understand why she did it. I don't think she is a bad person or anything like that. But it's still an awful thing to do. And frankly, I don't see how Adrien could just... instantaneously forgive her without invalidating and downplaying his own pain and hurt. If he did, I would seriously question his self-worth. And while I don't think Adrien would never forgive Marinette or that he would stop loving her, frankly, I would like to see more acknowledgement of his feelings and his emotional needs both from the fandom and the show. I would like to see that his feelings matter, that he is allowed to be angry and that he is allowed to hold people accountable and call them out. I would like for him to not forgive some people. I would like for him to require distance and space from them. That would be development for Adrien, to let himself be emotional and not feel the need to put his own needs aside for others.

But for Adrien to prioritize himself, it would mean acknowledging the harmful things characters like Marinette have done to him. And that can't happen, because all the purpose Adrien serves is as a plot device to connect Marinette to Gabriel, and actually having her be held accountable by the narrative for her choices is a big no no. Growth for Adrien would mean that he lets himself be angry at Marinette for how she kept secrets from him, never apologized for it, and ultimately ended up keeping the greatest secret of all from him about his father and the fact that he is a Sentimonster. But as the writing to this point shows, Marinette isn't a safe space for him where he is allowed to be himself. She is someone who also elicits his trauma responses from him. He doesn't let himself be angry with her, he always puts himself last when it comes to her.

I am not saying Marinette is in any way comparable to Gabriel. She is nowhere as bad as him, she does not come close to that in any way. Marinette is a good person. But what she did in the finale, is explicitly something that Gabriel wanted her to do. Gabriel wanted to continue to dictate his son's emotions and perceptions, and Marinette helped him do it. That's not a healthy relationship. And looking at all the Marinette-Gabriel parallels in Season 5... it's not a good look at all. The show portrays Adrien as someone who has been denied autonomy his whole life, and as someone who is expected to cater to the desires of the people around him and be perfect for them while neglecting his emotional needs, and made his arc one of finding independence and his own identity and learning that his feelings and desires matter. But also, they only matter as far as they don't inconvenience Marinette. Adrien shouldn't downplay his feelings, but if doing so would help Marinette, then he should do it actually. And it's hard for me not to see it as Ladybug benefitting from his trauma from his abusive home. It sounds harsh, but that's how it feels.

And all the talk of how Adrien would never hate Marinette and that he would forgive her is... disappointing to me. Because I don't necessarily disagree, but it still is about prioritizing Marinette's feelings over Adrien's. What is focused on is not how Adrien might feel betrayed, but how Marinette might feel sad about Adrien feeling betrayed by her, and reinforces that Adrien is so good because he would not hold it against her. Even though he should, even though it means he would be downplaying his pain massively if he didn't blame her for that. If Adrien's character should develop, he should be allowed to realize that he has the right to get angry and that he doesn't have to downplay his emotions or feel like it's all his fault. He should be allowed to do that without people jumping to Marinette's defense and excusing her of blame.

Throughout the series, Adrien has been the person to help Ladybug through her problems, and the narrative has never allowed her to do the same for him. And I want to see focus on Adrien for a change. I want to see someone other than Plagg reassuring him and supporting him, especially his partner. I want to see the narrative be less about "oh, Adrien would never hold anything against Marinette because he loves her and would understand her always," and be more "actually Adrien is allowed to prioritize his feelings and want distance from Marinette after she betrayed him in such a personal way." That would be development. That would be reclaiming his agency. That would be free will and autonomy. I would like to see focus on this in the show and the fandom.

Adrien is not obligated to forgive Marinette. He is not obligated to understand her reasonings for why she did what she did. He is allowed to be angry at her and express his hurt because of her actions. Seasons 4 and 5 have regrettably established Marinette as someone else who denies Adrien's agency and around whom he reverts back to his fawning trauma response, and quite frankly the best thing for him to do would be to break up with her and go find himself on his own terms. I want his character to develop and grow, and unfortunately, Seasons 4 and 5 proved to me that it would not be possible as long as he is around Marinette, both from a character and narrative standpoint.

I just wish people would acknowledge and validate Adrien's perspective and feelings more. Even if it means calling out Marinette. Gabe is Adrien's abuser but he isn't the only one who has hurt Adrien in the story. Marinette is an incredible and amazing person but as far as we've reached in the show, she is hurting Adrien. And she has done many things across these two seasons that violate Adrien's trust. It's not even that this is a mistake she could learn from, but that she has done several such things over and over. From keeping secrets about the Miraculous holders' identities even though Hawkmoth himself knew, to Rena Furtive, to trying to trick him into an identity reveal in Ephemeral, and now keeping the fact that he is a Sentimonster and that Gabe is Monarch from him. It's gone from secret keeping to outright lying to him. It is not healthy. And it is a sign of stagnation and regression in Adrien's growth if he continues to keep forgiving her over and over again despite her never fixing her behavior.

If Adrien's arc is about finding autonomy, then he cannot be with someone who is complicit in denying him the ability to make his own choices. If Marinette was supposed to be the knight in shining armor, they shouldn't have given her the key to the tower and have her hide it away. If she was supposed to save him, they shouldn't have had her condemn him further. If Marinette was supposed to be the one who helped Adrien regain his self worth, the person whom he could trust and rely on the most, they shouldn't have made her side with Gabe, deny Adrien his agency, and violate his trust so many times.

It didn't have to be written this way, but these were the decisions made by the writers. They chose to portray Marinette like this for no discernable reason and refused to acknowledge it or deal with it meaningfully. Adrienette is so profoundly unhealthy now that if Adrien's character is to grow, the only way for him to do that is to break up with Marinette. But the show has also made it very clear that Adrien is only a plot device and a trophy for Marinette at the end. So I have no doubt that all will be forgiven in a matter of minutes, and the narrative will praise Adrien for being traumatized and denying his own emotional needs to comfort Marinette as she feels bad for hurting him. And it's sad, but I guess it is what it is.

[mickey-henry]

𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐛𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

summary: bucky’s been flirting with you, but hasn’t taken it further than that. frustrated, you decide to take matters into your own hands.

word count: 2.1k

warnings: occasional swearing (but not much) and frustrating flirting (I’d be melting if it was happening to me). besides that, this fic is pure fluffy fun.

author���s note: hello there! this is my second fic; I’m very excited to post it! I found the header image here, and if you want to listen to the song I reference in this fic, you can listen here. bold text indicates singing, while italicized text refers to inner thoughts. likes, reblogs, messages, replies, and comments are cherished! I hope you like it! 💖

Bucky Barnes is an acquaintance at best. The two of you rarely work together, and with conflicting schedules, you see little of each other around the compound. On a random Friday in April, however, something changes in you. The moment is nothing out of the ordinary. You’re sitting on the couch in the main living space, re-reading one of your favorite books. Bucky has just returned from a mission; you glance up to see his exhausted expression. He catches your eye, winking with a smile, before walking to his room. Your heart flutters and your head freezes at the response. “Oh, no,” you think to yourself. “Maybe that was a one-time thing? I don’t actually like him, right?” Wrong. 

Ever since that night, the mere presence of Bucky Barnes drives you crazy: his stunning blue eyes that squint ever so slightly when he smiles, his adorable nose that crinkles when he laughs, his pillowy lips that you lose yourself in, his  fluffy hair you can’t help but imagine running your fingers through, his scruff speckled jawline that you wish would brush along your hands, cheeks, anywhere really. He occupies your dreams; you can’t escape this man even if you try. Today, he drives you crazier than usual. He stands in the compound's kitchen in a tight black t-shirt, one that leaves nothing to the imagination. This is the first time you’ve seen him in short sleeves, in anything other than tactical gear. You can’t help but stare as he prepares his lunch. The shirt hugs his frame tight, accentuating his biceps that had no right to be that big. “Gosh, he must spend hours in the gym to look like that.” You then notice the vein in his right arm protruding from his skin, tracing it with your eyes. You didn’t think he could become any more beautiful, but here he is before you, incredible as ever. 

You’re pulled from your reverie when Bucky calls your name. “Yeah?” you reply, barely masking the startled stutter in your voice.

“Pass me the salt?”

“Oh! Sure, of course,” you muster, taking a sip of water from the glass in front of you as you hand him the salt shaker. 

“Thanks, doll,” he flirts with a smile, the same one he gave you that night when he got back to the compound. You nearly choke. “Bucky Barnes called me a term of endearment?!? Holy shit.” Your heart swells and you look down at your glass in a desperate attempt to hide the blush creeping its way across your cheeks. “Goodness gracious, I respond this way from a simple word?” You couldn’t imagine how you’d feel if he touched you. 

It didn’t take long to find out. The following day, you stand in the kitchen prepping your lunch, singing softly along to the song playing from your phone. Bucky appears soon after. He stands close to you for a moment, closer than necessary, but of course you don’t mind. He has just showered; his cologne lingers in the air, intoxicating you. Somehow, you keep singing along, showing no sign that your mind is elsewhere. 

“Ugh, he smells amazing. This man has too much power over me; this is ridiculous! I don’t even remember what I was doing—”

“You have a beautiful voice,” he compliments.

“Thank you, Bucky,” you softly reply, your heart racing at his praise.

“Let me get by you real fast, doll,” he says, moving to walk behind you. 

“There he goes again with the pet name. My god, could this get any worse—” 

He places his hands gently on your hips as he moves beside you. Electricity travels through your whole body; you’re internally screaming at his touch. His hands feel better than you imagined. Even though the contact lasts only a moment, the effects of his touch linger after, leaving you speechless. 

You hear a musical chuckle from the man behind you. “Is he teasing me? It sure feels like it,” you wonder. There is no way that he can’t see the effect he has on you. Before you can even formulate another thought, he touches you again as he moves back to the other side of you. “That was definitely on purpose; certainly he wouldn’t do this by accident. Right?”

Your eyes linger as he finishes putting together his lunch. He catches your gaze and smiles. “See you later, sweetheart,” he says with a wink before leaving the room. “Okay, that answers my question; that was very intentional. What am I going to do with myself?”

You don’t know how much longer you can take his teasing. Throughout the week, he ups his antics, calling you pet names more than your own, stealing touches whenever he can get away with it, smiling whenever you make eye contact. The tension is insatiable; thoughts of Bucky follow you everywhere. You decide to take matters in your own hands; Bucky did not seem to be planning to make a move anytime soon. If he is going to tease the hell out of you, you might as well get some payback. 

───────────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ─────────────

Tony’s announcement of Friday night karaoke gives you a wicked idea. However, for it to work, you need to recruit help. You know just who to ask. It doesn’t take long to find Sam and Steve; they spent a ton of their free time sparring in the gym. They seem to be at the end of their workout, their movements slow and sloppy, relying on witty retorts to throw off the other. They stop when they notice your arrival. 

“Hey!” Sam says with a smile, hugging you as you approach. You squeeze him tightly, even with his sticky sweat coating his arms. You greet Steve with a hug too.

“What brings you to our neck of the woods?” Steve asks as you let go.

“Can I ask you guys something? And you promise you two won’t laugh at me? Especially if I'm reading this wrong?”

“Of course,” answers Steve. 

“Yeah, for sure,” replies Sam. 

You hesitate for a second, taking a deep breath. “Does Bucky like me? I swear he does. He keeps teasing me, and I don’t know how much longer I can take it. I think I am practically in love with the guy at this point, he’s so beautiful and—”

You stop as the boys exchange glances and begin laughing. 

You cross your arms, hurt. “You said you wouldn’t laugh at me! I can’t control how I feel.”

“No! Wait! We aren’t laughing at you!” Steve says between giggles. 

You furrow your brows. “Then why are you laughing?”

“Bucky’s obsessed with you,” Steve answers after calming his laughter. 

“God, yes, you’re all he talks about nowadays,” Sam adds. 

“What?! He does? Why? Are you shitting me right now? Because that would be really freaking mean—“

“No! Of course not,” Steve insists. “Don’t you see the way he looks at you?”

“And the pet names he gives you?” Sam adds.

“And how he can’t seem to keep his hands to himself lately?” Steve finishes. 

Now you feel stupid for even asking. Of course you noticed all of those things. They were all you ever thought about. “Well, yeah, but maybe he does that with all the girls.”

“What girls?” Sam retorted. “The only women who are here often enough to cross paths with him are you, Natasha, and Wanda. Wanda’s with Vision, as weird as that is, but love is love. Natasha shoots daggers at anyone who looks at her with love in their eyes. That leaves you.”

“Why in the world would he like me? Of all people? He’s out of my league,” you sigh,

Sam’s scoff pulls you from your thoughts. “Bucky? Out of your league? He’s a crazy ex-assassin with emotional issues! If anything, he's out of your league.”

“You’re a catch, why wouldn’t he like you?” Steve assures.

Steve and Sam always know just what to say to make you feel better. “I guess you’re right,” you admit with a defeated grin. 

“So, you know how Bucky feels. What are you going to do about it?” Steve asks. 

“I have an idea, but I need your help.”

“We’re listening.”

You divulge your plan to them. They smile, hyping you up. 

“Dude, I’m so down!” Sam exclaims, clapping his hands in excitement. 

“You think this will work?”

“Definitely,” Steve assures. “This is going to be amazing!”

“Okay then, we’re doing this. Let’s go find Bucky. Time to initiate phase one.”

───────────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ─────────────

Bucky is sitting on the common room couch, flipping through a book when he sees you, Sam, and Steve enter. He exchanges a glance with you, smiling as your eyes light up. The three of you sit down. You’re sitting next to Sam, closer than usual. There’s a brief moment of silence before you speak. “Sam, are you going to karaoke night?”

“Of course! Wouldn’t miss everyone’s drunk-ass singing for the world.”

“Will you be my duet partner?”

This catches Bucky’s attention. He looks up from his book. Why the hell were you asking Sam to sing with you? You normally ask the girls...

“Sure thing, baby. It’ll be a ton of fun!” Sam smiles. 

Baby?! What?! How dare he call you a pet name, his girl, right in front of him? Well, you may not be his girl yet, but Sam knows how he feels about you. What the hell is he thinking?

“Yay! This’ll be so fun!” You hug him, grabbing his hand before continuing, “Wanna practice with me in a bit?”

“Find me when you’re ready, sweetheart,” Sam answers, kissing your knuckle before letting go of your hand. 

Sweetheart?! What the fuck was going on? Did he miss his shot? Would Sam really do that to him? Bucky can barely handle his swirling thoughts. He storms out of the room without looking back. 

Steve can’t help but laugh once Bucky is out of earshot. “That worked a little too well, wouldn’t you say so?”

“That wasn’t too far, was it?” you ask with a worried expression on your face. 

“Nah, don’t worry about it. He’ll just come on even stronger now. He won’t give up on you that easily,” Sam assures you. 

───────────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ─────────────

Bucky can barely contain his anger as you step on the stage with Sam, giggling and smiling at your karaoke partner. Jealousy engulfs him. He can barely listen to the start of the song, ignoring the catchy beat blasting through the speakers. He doesn’t recognize the song, but looks up from his drink when you sing, “Hey Bucky boy, what you doing tonight? I wanna see what you got in store."

He looks right at you. Did she just say Bucky?

Sam echoes, “Hey, hey Bucky!” Well, that answers his question.

“You're giving it your all when you're dancing on me. I want to see if you can give me some more,” you continue, twirling your fingers through your hair.

“Hey, hey Bucky!”

“You can be my man, I can be your girl, and we can pump this jam however you want,” you sing, swaying your hips to the cadence of the lyrics.

“Hey, hey Bucky!”

“Pump it from the side, pump it upside down, or we can pump it from the back and the front,” you wink as you finish the line. Bucky sits up suddenly, crossing his legs, his face turning beet red. You smile, knowing the plan was working. Steve laughs from beside him. He keeps his eyes glued on you as the two of you continue the song, utterly entranced. You look him right in the eye as you end the song, “I want you tonight.”

You saunter over to where he is sitting after high-fiving Sam, confidence filling your chest. “So, what did you think of my performance, Bucky?”

You yelp as he grabs your hips and pulls you down to sit on his lap. His voice deepens, “you’re such a tease, you know that right?”

You laugh. “I’m the tease? Really? You’re the one who just pulled me onto your lap and taunts me with flirtatious remarks and smiles all freaking day. My god Bucky, make a move already—”

He cuts you off, pulling you in for a kiss, his flesh arm grabbing the back of your neck. The team whoops and cheers. 

“Glad you finally made a move, Bucky,” you pant as your lips part from his.

“Best decision I ever made in my life, doll.” Before you can respond, he kisses you again, the karaoke bar fading in the background as you finally embrace the man of your dreams.

[thefanficmonster]

Beyond The Darkness

Corpse Husband x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Angst, Relationship Struggles, Self-doubt, Insecurities, Swearing

Genre: Angst with Fluff Ending, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Y/N finally expresses their worries, reluctance and suspicions regarding their relationship with Corpse who is more than surprised to be hearing such confession, thinking their relationship couldn’t be more perfect. Well, perfect on the surface.

Requested by @cinnamonbun332  Hi darling! I’m so sorry it’s taken me so long to complete and post your request, but here it finally is! You asked for some heartbreaking and then heart-healing and I hope I delivered properly. Please enjoy! Love, Vy ❤

I didn’t choose to be insecure, I never wanted to be so anxious and self-conscious. No one can blame that on me for it’s something I’d get rid of within the blink of an eye if it were that easy. I didn’t choose to fall in love with Corpse either, it just happened. I was taken by storm by the feelings he awoke in me. It was terrifying and made me become a whole different person around him. I was torn between wanting him by my side at all times and never wanting to see him again for the purpose of those feelings dying down. That being said, I can’t be blamed for that either.

However, I can be blamed for one thing: accepting his offer for a date. I didn’t have to. I probably shouldn’t have accepted it just as much as he shouldn’t have brought it up. But, alas, I couldn’t help myself. That storm of emotions, that stirring lava within the volcano I was at the time was dying to seep out to the surface so it wouldn’t burn me from the inside out. Him asking me out on a date was practically the vessel for me to finally have a chance at expressing myself and how I feel and that’s something I’ve never been able to do properly or openly. 

But with Corpse it has always been so easy.

Or...it was so easy.

It was easy until I started overthinking everything. Every interaction between us, between him and his friends. Between our two separate worlds.

I now have a hard time seeing us as a union, like we’re living together on the same planet of understanding and companionship. No, we’re more alike two planets in orbits near one another that are close but not close enough. Never destined to touch. Where I once saw light, I now see nothing. Almost as if I flipped the switch to my happiness myself. I wouldn’t be surprised if I did, it wouldn’t be my first time. I have a way of always finding a way to kill my happiness, put an end to my bliss. The key to doing so is what I already mentioned: overthinking, underestimating, undermining, over-worrying. In short: allowing my mind to torture me.

Sadly, it’s also forcing me to torture others.

At the moment, I’m spending day four back into my apartment, having come back with the excuse that I needed to get some piping fixed in the kitchen and needed to watch over the plumbers as they worked. I think Corpse bought that only halfway but if he didn’t believe me, he didn’t show it and I’m grateful for it. Or at least I think I am. Obviously, there was a part of me which screamed ‘See, he doesn’t care!’ at me when all he said in response to my announcement was ‘Oh, ok’. Of course, I didn’t pay that voice much mind then, but it’s starting to creep back in now and I really don’t know what to distract myself with to avoid hearing it. It’s not like I can internally deafen myself to stop it from eating away at me slowly but intently and with a scary determination that even I myself don’t have. Sadly, the pessimistic side of me does.

Truth be told, I wasn’t planning on staying home alone for four days straight, thinking I wouldn’t be able to make it that long without Corpse, thinking my loneliness would kill me. But, now that I am indeed alone, for some reason, I don’t feel really lonely, if at all. It’s refreshing and new, like a new but old perspective. Basically one I’ve missed for quite some time now without knowing that I did. Who knew going back to my empty apartment would be the cure to my messy head. Well, not a direct cure, but I have managed to map out at least a small portion of what’s going on up there, mend some of the damage I’ve done to myself.

Why do you always do that?

There’s that voice again, and some audacity it has! I’m not doing anything to myself! That voice is!

Saying that in court would easily land you in a mental facility, you know.

Fucking touché.

I think the reason why this is happening to me at the moment is because it’s been exactly four days since I last contacted Corpse. Or since he last contacted me. See what I’m going for here? See how toxic my mindset can be? Yeah, even I can hardly believe it sometimes. Like, how can something so dark be part of me - someone who used to be so cheerful and bubbly growing up. My nickname used to be ‘sunflower’ for a reason, but I might as well be a wilted willow now.

And who do you have to blame for that?

Will you fucking shut it!!!

As I’m in the midst of yet another self-argument, I near the doorbell ring, scaring me to the point I almost fall off my desk chair. I only then become aware of the blank MS Word document staring back at me. Throwing myself into work hasn’t been able to help me today. Instead of it distracting me from my struggles, it’s the other way around and I can’t fucking stand it.

Just like I’m beginning not to be able to stand myself. How Corpse and my friends do it, I have no idea. Well, they have it easy I guess, they don’t have to hear all the shit that happens in this beehive on my shoulders.

I lazily saunter over to open the door, not even thinking about looking through the peephole prior to turning the doorknob and swinging it open. That’s a mistake, considering that the mess I am is now face to face with Corpse. Let’s be honest, I’m past the point of stressing over how I look in front of him, we’ve been dating for almost a year now after all. However, this look on me right now is beyond disturbing. One that would leave him questioning if I need help or if I’m doing alright. The answer to both of those questions is no, by the way. Yes, to both.

“Corpse?“ I croak out, fighting my way out of the cloud of confusion surrounding me.

“Y/N?“ He replies, mimicking me though his confusion isn’t as much confusion as it is concern. Gotta say - rightfully so.

I shake my head as if awakening from a fever dream, basically hitting the ground head-first, “Um...yeah, uh, come in!” I finally manage to say, forcing my feet to step aside to allow him inside.

He nods and takes a step beyond the doorstep, cautious as though I’ve rigged the place with traps. I mean, ok, I’m weird, but not that weird. I’m not a complete psycho. At least not yet. Give me a few more months by myself. Or weeks. 

“I haven’t been here in so long...“ he mumbles, sounding almost as if he’s talking to himself. Before I could say anything, he wanders off into the kitchen, “Where are the plumbers?“

“What plumbers?“ I blurt out, unable to contain the widening of my eyes when I realize what I’ve said.

You. Fucking. Idiot!!!

“The ones you came here to monitor...?“ His answer sounds more like a question as well, both of us just staring at each other as we await what idiocy will leave my brain and come out of my mouth next.

The silence lasts for a few seconds before he breaks it by speaking up again, “There are no plumbers, are there?”

“No, not today! I mean- not right now.“ I resist the urge to smack my forehead with the palm of my hand in embarrassment. “They’ll come back...later! They were here up until an hour ago.“

Real smooth, Y/N. This is why you never play Among Us

Corpse looks around, even taking a peek over my shoulder before making a mock-confused expression as he shrugs his shoulders, “Your kitchen looks pretty tidy for being a place of such complex fixes happening.“

I let out a hysterical gust of laughter, squeezing my thumb so hard I might rip it off my hand, “Yeah, you know me, I like my living space tidy.”

He nods slowly, “Yeah, I know you. I know you’re not.“

The air gets caught in my throat when he eyes meet mine when he says that. I feel redness creeping up my neck, spreading across my cheeks and climbing up to my forehead and ears.

Oh you’d so be ejected right now

“Y/N, what’s really going on here? Why have you been avoiding me? Did I do something wrong? If so, please just tell me. This silent treatment and avoiding is killing me. If I didn’t come here I would’ve gone insane. You would’ve found my walls with writings on them...“ He stops talking abruptly, letting out a soundless sigh as though his soul left his body, his gaze softening with sadness, “That is, of course, if you were even planning to come back. Ever...“

“Of course I was!“ I exclaim, feeling my chest tighten at the hurt I see in his eyes, “I just...I needed time. I still do.“

“Time away from what?“ He asks, desperate to hear the answer no matter how much it could hurt him.

I honestly don’t know what to tell him. I have no idea what I’m running from. I don’t even know if I’m running, hiding, contemplating, I have no idea what I’m doing. Is he the problem? Am I? Are we the problem? Our relationship as a whole?

“I don’t need time from anything, Corpse. I just...I need some time with myself. With my own thoughts. I’m really torn, have been for quite some time now. I don’t know what I’m doing or what I’m supposed to do. I don’t know if I’m doing is the right thing. I don’t know if we are the right thing. I-...“ I buffer for a second, feeling the words start getting more and more tripped up as they climb up my throat. Eventually, they end up getting caught in an invisible net which doesn’t allow them to make it to my mouth, let alone leave it. Now at a loss for words, I let out a sigh of defeat, feeling my eyes welling up with tears, “I don’t know anything, damn it! I’m a mess. Why do you tolerate me? I’m no good to myself let alone to someone else!“

I don’t know where this outburst came from, but I’d be a liar if I said it wasn’t relieving. I feel like a popped balloon, letting out what’s been straining me from the inside for a long time now. Lord knows how Corpse took it, I can’t bring myself to look up at him, but all I know is that I finally did something I can officially deem right.

Suddenly, I feel the familiar touch of Corpse’s hands on my shoulders, pulling my chest flush against his, his arms wrapping around me, enveloping me in a tight embrace. His lips plans a kiss a the top of my head before he rests his chin there, holding me tightly.

“Why haven’t you told me any of this?“ He whispers, his voice emotional to the point of almost making me regret saying all that.

Almost...

“I didn’t want to worry you.“ I let out a half-hearted chuckle, “And I didn’t want you finding out what kind of nut-job you’re dating.“

He scoffs, “Even if you were a nut-job, Y/N - which, by the way, you’re not - I wouldn’t mind. I’m a nut-job for you. Utterly and completely crazy for you, babe. I’m always here for you, always there for you to talk to me, tell me all that’s going on in that busy head of yours. All you have to do is talk, and all I’ll do is listen.”

I sniff briefly, “Now you’re making me regret not saying it earlier.”

“Then I’m doing the right thing.“ He mutters, his tone suggesting I take the wheel of the conversation and say all I’ve been keeping within me until now.

“You see, I tend to enjoy certain things a lot. Get attached to people super quickly and easily. And then, after a certain period of time, I find myself rethinking and overthinking everything about that thing or person to the point I’m not even sure I like it - or them - anymore. At least not to the same degree as previously. I slowly start become unsure of everything around me, even my own thoughts and feelings. It’s almost like where I used to see light, there’s now darkness. Worst part is, I’m the one who put that light out for myself. I always do it to myself and then hate myself for it. It’s a vicious cycle that I can’t escape - killing my joy and blaming and despising myself for it.“ I sigh, nuzzling my face into his chest, “I just wish this curse avoided our relationship. You’re too good to me, I love you too much to lose you, Corpse.“

I feel his arms tighten their hold on me even more, pulling me even closer despite it not being possible. “Y/N, you can’t lose me. Not over that, not over anything. We all have our demons, you just gotta remember to hold onto me tighter than those demons are holding onto you. You gotta let me help you when you realize you can’t help yourself.” He gently pulls away from me, his hands now coming up to cup my cheeks as he gazes into my eyes, “You gotta learn to see beyond the darkness you surround yourself with. Beyond the darkness, that’s where I’m waiting for you. I’m always gonna be there. I’m a very patient guy, you know.”

I can’t help but laugh, suddenly feeling the bubbly giggles escaping from my chest, pressed out of me by the massive wave of relief that’s washed over my sore insides. Sore from the holding back and now even more so from letting go. But damn does it feel good.

“Looks like I don’t need a plumber but an electrician to fix this light I keep turning off.“ I say, pushing up on my toes to only barely touch my forehead to his. Luckily, he sees what I’m trying to do, so he leans down. “I need him to make it un-turn-off-able.“

Corpse smiles, humming approvingly, “I can help you with that. Starting with...“ and with that he tilts his head, his lips colliding with mine.

I gotta say: damn have I missed this feeling.

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[ayuuria]

Yashahime Translation: Animage October 2021 Issue

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The Beast King’s Daughter

“Hanyō no Yashahime” depicts the battle of three princesses who carry the blood of a demon king. In ‘The Second Chapter’ which broadcasts in October, the one who holds the key to the story is another princess who makes a new appearance.

With overwhelming strength, Sesshōmaru and Inuyasha’s father, the Dog General, was known as “The Beast King of the Western Lands”. The three (girls) Towa, Setsuna, and Moroha inherited the said beast king’s blood.

Despite being inexperienced, Towa and the others have constantly grown in battle. In episode 24 of ‘The First Chapter’, an evenly matched battle unfolds between Towa and Moroha, enraged by Setsuna’s death, and “The Beast King of the Eastern Lands”, Kirinmaru, who is equal to the Dog General. Though Kirinmaru was injured, he successfully landed a single stroke.

Starting from ‘The Second Chapter’, another daughter of a beast king appears before Towa and the others. Her name is Rion. Surprisingly, it is said that Kirinmaru also had a daughter. Rion is an existence who for 600 years has been sealed in Mt. Musubi, which is said to be where the Dream Butterfly is. Exactly who sealed her and for what purpose? Just like Towa and the others, within her is likely an inherited strength of a beast king but her powers are unknown.

There are still many mysteries surrounding Kirinmaru’s daughter, Rion. While it is not yet known whether she is an enemy or an ally to Towa and the others, if she is willing to lend her strength, she will likely become a reliable existence to them as they shoulder many difficulties.

Character Bios

Rion Kirinmaru’s daughter who has been sealed within the barrier of Mt. Musubi for 600 years. It seems her meeting with Towa, Setsuna, and Moroha will move destiny but… …?

The Dream Butterfly The butterfly of the dream world. A spirit. It is said that when they appear in the real world, they devour people’s dreams and those who have been devoured become unable to sleep or dream entirely.

Higurashi Towa Sesshōmaru and Rin’s daughter. She fights with Kikujyūmonji, a demon sword with a blade created from demonic power. The attack she unleashed when she became enraged from Setsuna’s death took on the shape of two blue dragons.

Setsuna Sesshōmaru and Rin’s daughter. In episode 24 of ‘The First Chapter’, despite wounding Kirinmaru during their battle, the tables turned on her and she lost her life.

Moroha Inuyasha and Kagome’s daughter. When she puts on rouge, she goes on a rampage that ends quickly but when Setsuna lost her life, she managed to fight without losing her composure.

Kirinmaru The Beast King of the Eastern Lands. It appears he spares some leeway with the Yashahimes such as naming Towa’s technique ‘Twin-Headed Azure Dragon Wave’, but?

The Parent Needs to Pull It Together More!

Kirinmaru has considerably complicated child rearing. In contrast to that, Rion is a girl with a straightforward upbringing. I can’t say the specifics yet but when I see parent and child, as a father of a daughter in her 10s myself, I think “The parent has to pull it together more” and I also get a sense of “I guess even if the parent complicates things, kids will grow up on their own.” By the way, Fujita Saki plays the role of Rion. She also took on the role of the mean heroine in my previous work “Fairy Ranmaru~ Anata no Kokoro Otasuke Shimasu~”. Just when I thought I finally defeated her in “F Ran” (Shortened name of said previous work), I meet her again in “Hanyō no Yashahime”… … I felt a mysterious fate (laughs).

- Director Hishida Masakazu

I Felt Destiny from the Lives of Towa and Co. Director Hishida Masakazu 

Synchronizing With His Own Life?! Empathy Towards Towa’s Situation

— In the previous issue’s interview, Director Hishida, you said that you felt that “it was fate that I should accept” the offer for this current work which was memorable.

Hishida: I worked at Sunrise’s Studio #1 for a long time, but I started to do work for Tatsunoko Production in 2008. From there, I mostly worked at Tatsunoko but now Sunrise has called me back for the first time in 13 years. Just as I’m wondering what sort of work it’s going to be, they tell me it’s a work that carries on the world of “Inuyasha”, (the work) that taught me the foundation of production. Not to mention, the protagonist, Towa, is a girl who was flung from the feudal world where she was born and raised, to the modern era, and then returns to the feudal (era) again after 10 years. I felt Towa’s situation synchronized with mine and all I could think was that this was fate.

I’m about the same age as the director of ‘The First Chapter’, Teruo-san (Director Satō Teruo), and our careers are just about the same too. Teruo-san worked at Studio 1 for the longest time while I on the other hand, got thrown outside and came back… … I thought that aspect felt similar to Towa and Setsuna’s life (laughs). That’s why watching Towa and Setsuna’s relationship in “The First Chapter” was very tough. Like, they were such close sisters so why doesn’t she remember… …

— To change it to your position Director Hishida, it’s like “You returned to Sunrise for the first time in a while but the people you used to get along with have forgotten about you” kind of a situation.

Hishida: It’s exactly that! The current staff of Sunrise’s Studio 1 don’t know me, and they don’t thank me (laughs). You see, I was the one who revived the steppingstone for the “becoming a producer by being a production assistant” route that came to an end at Studio 1! There weren’t many before me but afterwards, there were a lot of people that took that route and flew the nest like Fujita Yōichi-kun, Watada Shinya-kun, and Kyōgoku Takahiko-kun! No one is really grateful so Fujita-kun and Kyōgoku-kun would always say to me “I should’ve crushed you back then!” (laughs). As I watched Setsuna not remembering Towa, I ended up remembering that.

— You seem to have an unusual attachment to Towa and Setsuna’s relationship (laughs). Well then, what sort of impression do you have of Moroha and Sesshōmaru?

Hishida: Moroha has a brilliance to her. It’s amusing that she inherited Inuyasha’s mischievous side, and she’s got a similar silhouette to Inuyasha as well, so I feel that she is a real eye-catching character. When Towa and Setsuna take center, the story becomes heavy no matter what, so it’s fun to watch Moroha soften the place up.

Then, regarding Sesshōmaru in this current work, I felt “He’s a father”. I bet in his own way, as a father, he wonders how to interact with his daughters. Even while carrying out a strict “trial of courage and cowardice”, he still concerns himself with his daughters which I feel is a little human like. I’m also a father of two girls so I can relate to him somewhat. In the last (scene) of “The First Chapter”, he purposefully hands over a broken Tenseiga to Towa but he wouldn’t do that if he didn’t care about them. He just gives a pass like “Do something about it with this” and I think that is also (a form of) training in a sense.

Also, drawing wise, the pattern of Sesshōmaru’s kimono is still brutal (laughs). “Inuyasha” was an analog cel anime back then so (drawing) that pattern was even more difficult. At the time, the suggestion “Let’s omit the pattern on Sesshōmaru’s kimono” was made but Director Ikeda Masashi opposed it. I didn’t understand why Director Ikeda was so fixated on that pattern back then but thinking about it now, I think it was the right call. Since it could be said that Sesshōmaru’s existence is one of two wheels in the work that is “Inuyasha”, he probably didn’t want to make him plain wherever possible.

The First Attempt At ‘The Second Chapter’ Storyboard Was Like A “Trial of Courage and Cowardice”

— Next, please tell us about Kirinmaru’s side. In ‘The First Chapter’, many of their actions were puzzling so by all means, any hints to their activity in ‘The Second Chapter’!

Hishida: At first, I couldn’t quite understand Kirinmaru, but once I heard he was a father with a daughter, I understood. While he is a person who’s thinking “I want to surpass the Dog General”, his feelings of admiration towards that man and wanting to show his strong side to his daughter are feelings that I completely understand now. Kirinmaru has had many mysterious aspects up until this point, but I’d like to depict his emotions in ‘The Second Chapter’.

Just like her younger brother, Kirinmaru, Zero has also become obsessed with the Dog General. In any case, she lives on her “love”. Zero’s womanly heart is a little complicated, but I also feel that seeing her persist with her earnest feelings for the Dog General is cool.

Also, I think the parts of Riku, who’s neutral towards Towa and the others, that were difficult to see up to this point will become clear in ‘The Second Chapter’. How he feels about Towa will be brought to the forefront, so I told Fukuyama Jun-kun who plays him, “In ‘The Second Chapter’ please go with a slightly handsome boy feeling route” (laughs). By the way, Fukuyama-kun was the one who played the main character in my director debut work “Onmyō Taisenki”. The name of the role (character) was ‘Riku’. ‘The Second Chapter’ is a story about the ‘fate’ that connects people together, and I also felt a mysterious fate from that.

— What did you think of production for episode 25 (episode 1 of ‘The Second Chapter’) which continues from the shocking last scene of Setsuna’s death in ‘The First Chapter’?

Hishida: It was such shocking last scene that I was overcome with the feeling of “Why are you passing the baton to me at such a difficult spot!?”! I truly thought this was a ‘trial of courage and cowardice’ (laughs). I did the storyboard for episode 25 myself, but coming into the work midway, it took me some time to understand the story, so I really struggled. Until now, the record holder for storyboard that took me the longest was episode 13 of “Gundam Reconguista in G” with 2 months. However, this time, it took me 3 months.

— To say that it easily overtook that “G Recon” (shortened form of “Gundam Reconguista in G”) that you struggled so much with (laughs).

Hishida: Yes. My worst record was brilliantly made new! However, on the reverse side, I thought with ‘The First Chapter�� ending like this, there’s no doubt you’d want to see the continuation. In that sense, they passed the baton in the best way so I should meet up to that (expectation). It was tough but I put my all into it!

— ‘The Second Chapter’ is loaded with things to be curious about aside from what will happen to Setsuna like Rin who’s sleeping within the Tree of Ages and Inuyasha and Kagome who’ve been trapped within the black pearl.

Hishida: I can’t talk in detail about that yet but I will say “There’s no way it would end like this!”. I would certainly like for everyone to look forward to October.

In the new key visual for ‘The Second Chapter’ that is overflowing with lively motion, the three princesses show gallant expressions with weapons in hand. What exactly is beyond Towa’s reaching hand… …? Also, when will we get to see ‘Sesshōmaru & Rin’ and ‘Inuyasha & Kagome’ standing side-by-side together as shown in this picture?

[neomedievalist]

some ??hot?? takes: innocent sin feels more "contemporary" than persona 5 in terms of story. all this wild shit happening simultaneously just feels like looking at the news.

this one probably isn't a hot take, but persona games need to bring back character theme songs. 1) it owns, 2) it might prevent the p4/p5 problem of having Too Many Guys so they barely get the spotlight.

oh persona should stop dripfeeding party members. just introduce them all early and then give them arcs throughout the game. also let social links hook in.

thinking any of nocturne's reason endings are good is really silly. they all suck and are narratively unsatisfying, and all of the reasons are abhorrent. this makes sense for the game but i can't imagine someone thinking any of those endings are the best.

manikins should've been able to get a reason. the demifiend can already fuck with creation by restoring the old world / exploding the universe, he should've been able to force through the manikin reason.

yeah i can see what you mean. actually there are several different points in here let me respond to all of them

i mean, true, but p5 is hilariously modern, they literally use iphones to go to the demon dimension, and forum posts are your sidequests. i get thats not your point though, and it speaks to p2's longevity that its themes are still able to be relevant today. honestly, if p2 was made today, itd work even better with the misinformation age and the rumours theme. this is a tangent, but ive always thought digital devil saga is the most modern relevant smt and it takes its themes to the logical end thats perfectly fitting for the quote unquote new generation of smt, if it was released today it would hit exactly the same. i honestly think if smt was a chronological series with a clear start and end, the dds duology would be a perfect end to wrap up all the themes of the entire series. (that's why i wont rec it to newcomers to smt, but if youve played others and havent played it, you absolutely have to)

true! i mean i dont have any particular takes about theme songs but i think its something id like to see come back for sure.

to an extent yeah. i think p3 works so well because you already have a lot of the party members from the start who are all intertwined with each other and the lore of the story. persona has always worked best with a small cast but p3 works because all of the cast is relevant but they also dont try to act like they all get along perfectly. like, i dont think mitsuru talks to junpei as a friend. and thats normal. it helps make p3 more serious and not just goofy guys on an adventure, if that makes sense. but from a game balancing perspective, kinda tough to make that work lol. i think every party based rpg works like that, but it wouldnt be unreasonable to introduce characters early and then just not let you use them yet sort of like what p3 did with akihiko's broken arm, not being able to use mitsuru until you got another navigator, etc.

yeah, i mean, that's what smt is about. it's about choosing between bad and worse options. law and chaos is no better, really. well...actually no i would argue they are better but thats beside the point. i think i need to say for the record me saying i'm law aligned is a joke and i don't actually believe in anything that law believes, but, hopefully my followers have reading comprehension and can tell that from my blog.

true, but like i was saying before, the point of smt is choosing between bad and worse options, and having one clear good option defeats that purpose. but then again, neutral endings have been a thing in smt forever as the Objectively Good Option so, i guess it doesn't matter. yeah, i agree in-universe lore it would make sense though

[theyreonlynoodlesmike]

It’s Just a Movie: Part 25 (Poly!Lost Boys x Fem!Reader)

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

Warnings: slight angst, violence

Word Count: 3613

School has started for me!! I was able to get the past couple of chapters out despite the first days, but with a work/school combo I’m gonna have zero time to write!! Basically, the next (and final chapters) are gonna be slower to get uploaded, but they’ll get posted soon!!!

You couldn't believe this was happening. Never in your life did you think you'd be in this situation in the first place, but you never thought that you'd be leading the Frogs and the Emerson's down into the cave either. You had made an agreement before you'd even parked Paul's bike. You weren't there to fight, you were there to talk. The Frogs, and Michael, wouldn't believe what you said until they heard it from the boys themselves. No matter how much you tried to convince them. This definitely wasn't part of the plan, but it was better than the ones the Frogs wanted to go with. You saw them clamor out of the car, and then Edgar grabbed Alan. He said,

"Weapons check." And then he was twirling his brother around to grab his pack and check him. You walked over, and grabbed Edgar, and Alan, by the back of his pack, saying,

"Woah, you are not going down there with those stakes." You knew that, peace talk or not, the boys would freak the second they saw the stakes. Especially Marko. The last thing you needed was the boys seeing that the first second they woke up. It'd be a bloodbath, and it'd be hard to defend the boys' case after that. It was Edgar that said,

"Then, we're not going down there at all." And Alan was quick to second him,

"For all we know, this could be an ambush. We are not going into enemy territory unarmed." And you fought the urge to roll your eyes from all the military talk. You sighed, defeated, and looked over when you heard Michael say,

"I don't want you going down there." Sam had already helped him out of the car, and a piece of you softened when you heard Sam reply,

"Well, I'm going." You knew, horror movie or not, their relationship was the backbone of the movie. None of this would be happened if they didn't care about eachother as much as they did, and you didn't interrupt as Michael said,

"Look, this isn't a comic book, Sam. These guys are brutal killers." And you felt the urge to almost agree with him. They were, but, as far as they knew, they wouldn't be if they killed Max. Sam quickly replied,

"So are the Frog brothers." And you looked at the two little brunettes. You watched as Edgar said,

"Check me." And Alan immediately went for the stakes. You scratched the back of your neck. As goofy as they seemed, you knew, unfortunately, that was true. But, you also knew that you weren't going to let it happen. Not this time.

"Look, who would you rather go down there with? Them or me?" To you, it was an easy choice. It seemed like this was the only thing you and Michael could agree on.

"If something happens down there, I'm not gonna have the strength to protect you." And you swallowed. You knew what line was coming, and you had to stop yourself from saying something about it.

"Well, this time I'm gonna protect you, bud. Even though you're a vampire, you're still my brother." You turned away, trying not to let the words affect you. Sam was a sweet kid, and, while you loved your boys, you weren't going to let them do anything to him. And, if you could help it, the Frogs. You looked back and snatched the knife from Edgar's hands.

"Wave this around, and I'm not gonna be able to stop the boys from making assumptions. Keep your stuff in your pack, and stay behind me. Got it?" You told them, and the brothers looked between eachother. They didn't seem pleased to be taking orders from you, and you sighed again as you decided to pocket the blade instead of giving it back to the boy. Really, they shouldn't even have this many knives anyways. You thought. You were going to need to come up with a good explanation for this, or else the Frogs weren't going to be the only ones getting chewed out. You let Edgar turn to Michael and say,

"Listen, just so you know, if you try to turn on us," He said, directly pointing at you. "Or vamp out in any way, then I'll stake you without even thinking twice about it." He said, his finger directed towards Michael this time. He added, "Both of you." And you frowned at the boy. You noted the change in dialogue, but you supposed it was a good sign. You were changing things, changing the movie. Hopefully that meant you'd changed enough to guarantee the boys' safety. But you knew that if he went around making threats like that, the boys were going to give him something to worry about. It was Sam that said,

"Chill out, Edgar." And you agreed. Everyone was going to need to chill, or else this was going to go sideways fast. 

"Yeah. C'mon." Edgar said. As you followed the Frogs down the steps, you heard Michael say,

"Where'd you say you met these guys?" And you tried to keep up with the brothers in front of you. The Frogs were supposed to lead you down into the cave, but you quickly slipped past them. You hopped down the stairs with ease, having months of practice navigating the creaking, falling apart stairway. When you went to the cave, you walked in it as one would walk in their own house. 

"Holy shit!" Edgar exclaimed, and you didn't comment. That was pretty much everyone's reaction, even yours.

"Vampire hotel." Alan commented, and you rolled your eyes as you walked ahead of them. As soon as the Frogs saw Star, you knew what was coming. You tried to grab them each by the back of their packs, but Edgar was already saying,

"Here's one. C'mon, let's stake her, man!" Michael had already seen the way they'd rushed for her, and he quickly tried his best to protect her in his weakened state.

"Don't you touch her!" He shouted, and the boys slapped away your hands. You let them go as Edgar said,

"C'mon. Vampires have such rotten tempers." And, they were running off. They ran around like two excited kids in a candy store, seeming to forget the object of their mission as soon as they were confronted with their threat. It seemed that getting them off course was going to be harder than you thought, and you quickly put two fingers in your mouth to let out a loud whistle. Like a pair of excited puppies, their heads snapped towards you. You could hear Star murmuring behind you, but you didn't know if it was your whistle or Michael that had awoken her.

"You two! Sit down over there and stay put. Sam," You said, turning towards him. You noticed that Michael was already going for Laddie, aiming to get him out of the cave after Star told him to. While you were here to talk, you didn't imagine the boys would be too upset if the two half's were gone. Well, at least, most of them wouldn't. "Watch them, okay? I'm gonna get the boys-"

"I'm coming with you." Sam quickly said, and you found a small smile developing on your face. He looked so earnest. So willing to protect. You reached out to touch his shoulder, lowering your voice. "I know you want to, Sam, but I need you to keep an eye on the Frogs, okay? If they follow me, I could be in deep shit." You told him, and, in a second, his face seemed to change. He understood what you were trying to suggest, quickly nodding. You had figured out that they apparently thought worse of your boys, way worse than you'd ever intended, but, if it helped, you were going to play into it. Plus, you did need to talk to the boys alone. 

You walked through the halls of the cave, slipping into a hallway different than the ones the boys had taken in the movie. You wandered around for a bit, listening for the sound of footsteps and purposely taking a few wrong turns just so you'd have to double back and would bump into the boys if they'd decided to follow you. You finally went to the cave where the boys slept, and you looked up to see them hanging from the ceiling. The five of you had talked about them sleeping in your room instead, but you'd pointed out that them being on the floor would make them far too easy targets. So, their room really was the best bet when it came to keeping themselves safe. The only suggestion you'd made was that they all gathered away from the ladder. Then, there'd be no way the Frogs could reach them. They seemed to have listened, and Paul had even taken Markos place as the closest to the ladder. Even then, he was still out of arms reach. You sighed, tapping your foot as you tried to think about how you'd get them down. Touching the boys was the only real way to wake them up, as they were all deep sleepers. You guessed vampirism had that as a side-effect. You cringed as you thought of one way you could wake them up, but you didn't hesitate to reach into your bag for the knife you'd swiped from Edgar. You decided on a small cut to the tip of your finger. It took a moment, but, the second the smell of blood hit them, you knew. Paul's eyes were the first to flick open, and he reached for the blonde besides him. As soon as Marko was awake, and they all knew it wasn't him that was bleeding, Paul fell from the railing. He grabbed your finger, bringing it to his mouth as he quickly said,

"What'd you do this for?" He licked the blood trailing down your finger and sucked on the wound for a moment, while the others fell from the railing in a circle around you. You answered with a,

"Well, I figured this would wake you up." And he hummed around the cut. You'd been right. Blood was a sure-fire way to get any of them to wake up. They seemed confused, but relieved. You weren't screaming, yelling, warning them that the Frogs were coming. Marko was bouncing on the balls of his feet, a smile growing on his face. He wasn't laying on the floor with a stake out of his chest. As far as they knew, it had worked. 

"What happened?" David asked, and you nearly had to yank your finger away from Paul when you felt the graze of teeth. He gave you a teasing smile, and you looked at the platinum haired blonde to do the same. A smile you only used when you were trying to get him to consider something. He narrowed his eyes.

"Well-" You started, but Marko grabbed your arm. He stopped you, and his eyes flicked towards the entrance. You took an inhale, and you mentally said, Shit. 

"They followed you." He said, his voice hollow and his eyes wide. You could see a speck of fear in his eyes, replacing the relief,  and you had to grab Paul before he went to do anything stupid, like try to walk into sunlight. They had a look in their eyes that you'd, luckily, never had to see before. Well, at least, in real life. You recognized it from the opening scene, when David had looked ready to kill that surf nazi. And again when he'd tried to grab Sam. And when Paul had tried to kill the Frogs. And when Dwayne has grabbed Sam. Hell, perhaps you'd seen it more than you thought. 

"I went to the Emerson's, and I brought them here-" You started, but that was as far as you got before David snapped,

"You what?" He asked, and you internally cringed at the tone of voice and how the room shook from the loudness of his voice. Yeah, you were in trouble. Rightfully so when you saw the look of betrayal in the shortest boys eyes. They moved for a second, and you already knew what they were thinking. You had betrayed them. Sold them out. You were going to kill them. Before they could do anything rash, you said,

"I told them that you want Max gone. It was the only way to get them to stand down, and they're here to talk." You said, and the boys stared at you in shock. You went silent, refusing to tell them anything else that may dig your grave any deeper. They stared at you, and David looked like he was about to have an aneurysm for a moment. He was pissed. But he was silent, and you could see that he was thinking.

"They're here to...talk?" David asked, disbelief clear in his voice, and you nodded. The boys stood behind him, flanking him. If it had been your first couple of days in their world, you would've been terrified. But you knew your boys, and you knew that they, at least, wouldn't do anything without David's word. "All of them?" David asked, and you nodded. Then, quickly, you corrected yourself.

"Michael is still taking Star and Laddie up to the car, but Sam and the Frogs…" You said, letting yourself trail off. They were silent, obviously not willing to fill up the silence for you. Even when you casted a glance over to Dwayne, who was seeming to try his best not to be effected by the inevitable. "They just wanna hear it from you. I told them what we planned, the whole turning back to a human thing, but Michael wasn't convinced. He thought that you guys had to be lying or have some sort of ulterior motive so- So, I gave them one." You said. The one time you needed to bank on Michael being stupid, he hadn’t been. So, you’d told him something closer to the truth. They did want their father-figure gone, just not for the same reason why. They wanted him gone because they hated him, despised him. The others thought they wanted him gone because he'd turned them, which was true, and because it would turn them back into being human. "They just wanna hear that you won't try to stop them from killing Max." You said, trying to get rid of the silence once more. All of the boys were quiet, and they were exchanging glances. You guessed that they were either waiting for David to decide, or if they were somehow communicating without you. You knew that you were just supposed to correct them and push them in the right direction, but, even then, would that have worked? What would've stopped them from hunting the boys down after they killed their sire? If anything, this was the best course of action, and you forced yourself to believe that. Finally, after a moment, David said,

"Where are they?" You had to bring the Frogs, and Sam, back into the cave simply because of the sunlight pouring inside the main room. You'd found them snooping around the cave, and you had to tell them to put down Dwayne's skateboard. You hated it, leading the boys through the tunnels that you knew so well. Leading them straight to the boys. To where they slept. Your mind replayed the look of betrayal you'd seen so clearly in Markos eyes. It made every step feel like you were trudging through wet concrete. But this was how things had to happen, and this was the only way to save them. Hopefully, it would save them. 

For a moment, you considered the fact that, maybe, despite agreeing not to, you may be leading the boys behind you to their deaths. It made a lump develop in your throat, and you prayed to whatever god you could think of that everything would turn out fine. You took them into the room, where the boys were standing near the far wall of the cave. The room was cramped, but you had long ago gotten used to the smell. Your boys towered over Sam and the Frogs, even if the tallest of the bunch, Dwayne, was leaning against the cave wall with his arms crossed. Paul was standing partially in front of Marko, the two huddled as far away as they could get. David stood away from the wall, the closest to the humans. Almost acting as a block. He glared down at the Frogs, then at Sam. Finally, his eyes shifted to you. "Well?" He asked. He didn't sound happy. He sounded almost antsy. Impatient. As if he wanted this over with. You didn't blame him.

The whole thing seemed to go by in a blur. Threats had been thrown on both sides, and you'd had to toss yourself in the middle of an altercation more than once. Edgar had muttered something about staking you for being a "traitor to your race" when you'd asked if they trusted you, and Paul had nearly exploded. He was practically vibrating as you pushed back on his chest, shouting to get his attention and to get him to calm down. You hadn't even noticed that Dwayne had already grabbed Edgar, and was holding him by his shirt until you heard the young boy start to yell. You'd managed to tear the boy out of his hands and you'd ended up screaming at both parties to knock it off. Finally, it was decided that most of the boys couldn't handle this sort of confrontation. So, the Frogs were put on timeout on one side of the inner cave, with three of your boys on the other. David and Sam stood in the middle, with you besides them to act as neutral ground. Well, as neutral as you could be. 

"So, if we kill Max, you'll go back to being human?" Sam asked, and you heard a murmur from behind him. Your head snapped to the Frogs, fire behind your eyes that got them to zip it for at least a moment. David replied,

"That's what we think." He said, and Sam furrowed his brow. That wasn't what you told them, but, David knew that lying to them completely wouldn't be well received when Max was dead. But, if they didn't know for sure, that was a different story. Plus, the look you gave him after he said it was definitely helping him sell it. From behind him, Edgar said,

"That's not good enough." But, this time, it was a snarling growl that shut them up. It had come from the smallest of the boys. Marko looked completely on edge and ready to snap. You supposed he would be, since Edgar had been the one to kill him. Sam looked over his shoulder, whispering,

"Cool it, Edgar." And you had to hand it to the kid. While he was obviously scared shitless, he seemed to be the most reasonable of the three. And the most gullible. After another moment, he said, "Even if you don't, you swear not to try to kill us? Or stop us from killing Max?" And David almost looked amused. His arms were crossed over his chest, and he glanced at you for a moment. He, now that he'd had a moment to process, seemed to find this situation weirdly hilarious. Or, maybe, it was just Sam.  "Well?" Sam pressed, copying what David has asked in the beginning of their talk. David said,

"We swear. Cross my heart and hope to get staked." He even did the motion of crossing his heart. From behind, you could hear Alan mumbling,

"Oh, you will." And you were this close to letting the boys have free range. You didn't say anything, not when David opened his mouth again to speak,

"But, you have to swear that you won't come after us. Even if we don't get turned back." He said, and an eruption of protests were heard from the Frogs. They were silenced by a single glare from David, who's face shifted into one of a monster. You could tell it scared the boys half to death, to the point where they both seemed to fall back against the wall. He changed his face back before he glanced back at the youngest Emerson. Sam had nearly fallen back, but you'd caught him by the arm. It took him a minute to steady himself and find his voice, and he straightened his blue cardigan sweater right before he said,

"You'll leave us alone? Mike alone?" Sam asked, and you watched the way David's face softened for a moment. It seemed that he had the same effect on him that he had on you. David gave him a nod, and then Sam sighed. He held out his hand, saying, "Deal." And, despite the Frogs protests, David was quick to take it. They shook on it, and then David's eyes lifted to the Frogs. He spoke again, saying,

"So, how are you going to kill him?" And Sam was quick to give up the information that his mother had a date with him that night. Tonight seemed as good as a night as any to get it over with. When Alan sarcastically asked,

"Why, you have any ideas?" David smiled. It was handsome, as handsome as the first smile he'd given you. Though, it seemed to have a chilling effect on the younger boys trapped with them in the cave. David's voice was almost charming as he said,

"We have a few."

[scapegrace74-blog]

New Ways of Turning into Stone, Chapter 5

A/N  Sorry for the long break between chapters.  As some of you might have seen from my Tumblr blog, I’ve been off on vacation these past two weeks.  Plus, when I felt the urge to write, it was my new Vaquero AU that kept calling to me (21,000 words and counting!), rather than this fic.  Which is probably a good argument for why I don’t like to post WIPs.  In any event, here is the next chapter some of you have been asking for, entitled Third Appointment.  Be careful what you wish for.  Angst ahead, plus a trigger warning for infertility trauma, miscarriage.

The first four chapters are available on my AO3 page.

The Thursday after her impromptu encounter with Jamie and his niece at the Royal Hospital for Children, Claire woke with a strange twisting pain in her gut.  Skipping breakfast, she was halfway to her office before she diagnosed herself with an acute case of nerves, the kind that sprouted between her lungs and ribcage like a vestigial organ whose sole purpose was to unsettle her.

She wasn’t in the habit of meeting patients outside of the clinical confines of her practice, but it was more than that.  Jamie had caught her in a moment of weakness, with both her personal and professional armour missing.  What he might have seen and how he could have interpreted it had occupied her thoughts ever since.

Eating lunch was out of the question.  By the time two o’clock approached, her insides were a buzzing hornets’ nest of anxiety, her palms clammy with sweat.  A half-empty bottle of Xanax called to her from the bottom of her purse.  Before she could weigh the implications of taking one at work on an empty stomach, Jamie’s familiar knock intervened.

She could tell as soon as he entered that Maggie hadn’t needed a transfusion that week.  His russet curls shone like garnets in the midday sun and his uncanny eyes glittered like sapphires.  Still, he avoided looking directly her way as he settled into his usual chair, and she wondered if the overlap of their personal and professional lives had left him feeling unnerved as well.

“No wheat grass smoothie,” he commented, his gaze running over her desk.

“No, I didn’t have time for lunch today.”  It was a blatant falsehood, since she’d spent her lunch hour picking her cuticles until they bled, but he didn’t need to know that.

“Ye should eat more, Sassen..., Doctor Beauchamp.  Ye canna help anyone else if ye’re no’ properly nourished.”  She caught the slip, and for some reason it angered her.

“Is this your attempt to negotiate a reduction in your fees, Jamie?  Dietary advice in return for counselling?  Because if so, I’m afraid I don’t bill on the barter system,” she snapped, despising her churlish tone.

Jamie’s eyes narrowed, then dimmed.  Message received, he sat up straighter in the armchair and crossed a foot over his knee, assuming a position of poised and detached calm that had no doubt served him well during business negotiations.  She regrouped by pretending to glance at her journal for the notes from their previous session, although the space next to his name was accusingly blank.

Boundaries thus defined, the session went surprising well.  Jamie spoke of his relief that Maggie’s latest round of chemotherapy was over, allowing her to return home and to some semblance of a regular life for a child of six.  Claire coaxed him gently towards the topic of his overwhelming guilt for abandoning his family when he was most needed.  Jamie processed pain through the recounting of stories, coming to terms with his self-decreed transgression by weaving together the tale of those he loved and pointing to the holes his absence had caused.

As his resonant voice spun its web of words, Claire became aware of an underlying hum.  At first it was subtle, like the mumble of traffic from a far-off motorway.  But as their hour together ticked by, it grew in strength until she could no longer ignore the buzz that pressed against her from all directions.

“... saw that it was really Jenny and Ian who I was... Claire?  Doctor Beauchamp, are ye well?”  Jamie was watching her with concern, and she realized she’d been shaking her head, trying to dislodge the omnipresent hum.

“Yes, I’m... yes.  Sorry.  Just a funny noise that’s...  Please, continue.”  When Jamie didn’t immediately pick up the thread of his narrative, she tried again.  “You were saying something about Jenny and Ian?”

Instead of continuing his previous thought, Jamie picked that moment to broach the topic she’d desperately hoped he would avoid.

“I hope ye’re no’ upset about the other day, at the hospital.  I didna mean tae impose or tae... o’erstep the bounds of our relationship.  No’ that we have a relationship, mind,” he hastened to add.  “Only a professional one.  But when I saw ye, I couldna resist introducing ye tae wee Maggie.  I hadna told ye about her yet, and I thought...”

“Jamie, it’s fine,” she cut in, halting his rambling explanation.  “She’s a lovely girl.  They all are.  It’s only that, I’m sort of...”

“Ye’re verra good with them.  Children, that is.  Ye’ll make a fine mother one day.”

All the oxygen left the room at once.  Her heart beat so hard there was a bruised feeling behind her sternum.   Launching to her feet, Claire stumbled blindly away from her desk.  She wanted to run, to scream, but her vision was a narrow chasm and a now-deafening throb filled her ears.  She only made it a few steps before her knees buckled and the carpet floated upwards to meet her.

“Ifrinn!”  Jamie leapt to her side, catching her by the shoulders before her head could hit the floor.  He lowered them both carefully to the ground, resting her body against his lap.  “Sassenach?  Claire?  Can ye hear me?  Do I need tae call an ambulance?”  The words reached her from very far away, but the threat of medical intervention acted like a dose of smelling salts.

“No,” she groaned, the room spinning around her like a kaleidoscope.  “No hospital.  I just... need to eat,” she grasped at the most innocuous explanation for her current state.

Without dislodging her, Jamie stretched his long arm and brought back the small basket of miniature muffins that were the day’s offering from Geillis.  With surprising dexterity, he peeled away the paper one-handed and broke apart a bite-sized morsel, holding it gently against her lips.  Realizing that her dignity couldn’t get any more battered, Claire opened her mouth and allowed Jamie to feed her.  After only a few bites, the buzzing disappeared and she was able to sit up on her own.

“Thank you,” she murmured, afraid to look into his eyes for fear of the pity she knew she’d see there.  “You were right. I  should have eaten lunch, I guess.”

“Claire.”  Jamie made a prose poem of the single syllable of her name.  She looked up at him through her lashes, stunned to find him looking back, not with pity, but with something akin to adoration.  “Mo nighean donn,” he ran a tender hand through her loosened curls.  “Ye need tae care more for yerself.”

“I will.  I’ll try.”  And when she said it to him, she really meant it.  Jamie made the impossible seem probable.

They stared at one another, shoulder to shoulder on the floor of her office.  She couldn’t think of anything else to say, but nor did she move.  Her gaze flitted over his face, noticing a vestige of boyish freckles across the bridge of his nose, a mole hidden in the harvest stubble on his cheek.  Jamie was performing a parallel inventory, eyes finally coming to rest at the level of her mouth.

“Ye’ve got a wee crumb, jus’ there.”  Unconscious, her tongue swept out, triggering a predatory response, twin blue laser beams narrowing on the target she had just painted on her lower lip.

“I... I’d verra much like tae kiss ye, Claire.  May I?”

An amputated moan was all she could manage in response, but Jamie must have understood its meaning.  He bent his head until only a whisper separated them.  The air crackled, sending that extra organ plummeting towards her hollow womb.  Clenching her eyes shut in defeat, she closed the infinitesimal gap until they met in an effervescent caress of lip and tongue.

Cold washed over her skin, bathing her in gooseflesh.  Jamie tasted like he looked; a banquet of fresh, volatile flavours that called to mind a picnic in a meadow, a spray of sea foam, the warmth of hearth and home.  She could feel him trembling against her, his moist breath rushing against her cheek in shallow pants.  For a score of heartbeats, Claire was the happiest she had ever been.  Then, reality crashed down around her.

“I’m sorry,” she stammered, pulling away.  “I... this can’t... I’m sorry.”

Jamie leaned back with a mixture of longing and resignation.  She hated adding herself to his list of regrets, but it was for the best.

“I’m your doctor, Jamie.  This isn’t right.”

“Aye, I ken.  I should apologize, but I canna seem tae find it in me tae repent.”

Jamie stood, reaching down to help Claire up as well.  As soon as it was apparent she was able to stand on her own, he dropped her hand as though it burned.  The line between his brows deepened, and she could see the question forming before he gave it voice.

“What if ye werena my doctor?  Would it be right then?”

“That’s neither here nor there, because I am, Jamie.  A relationship between patient and doctor of a romantic nature is ethically off-limits.”

Jamie nodded, apparently accepting her explanation at face value. Her heartbeat calmed.  He moved slowly, gathering his coat and starting to leave.  

“But what if ye weren’t?” he said, facing the door.  “If we’d met at the hospital, or out on the town?”

“I...” she stammered, searching desperately for any answer except for the truth.  “No, Jamie,” she said at last, watching as she destroyed his last bastion of hope.  “I’m sorry.  I just don’t feel that way about you.”

Nodding abruptly, Jamie let himself out of the office.  She listened to his low murmuring voice through the door as he spoke to Geillis, heard him make an appointment for the following week, then the loud snap of the main door closing.  Only then did she allow herself to collapse once more to the floor, angry sobs overtaking her.

***

“Are ye out of yer fuckin’ mind?” Geillis inquired with her usual brutal eloquence.

With the help of a Xanax, Claire had managed to see her last two patients of the day, and only needed to navigate the shoals of her office manager’s ire before she could go home and fully medicate herself into a dreamless sleep.

“Jes so we’re clear, ye want me tae write a letter terminating your services as a doctor an’ suggesting suitable alternative providers?  An’ ye want me tae send this letter, over email, tae Jamie Fraser?”

“That’s right.”  She had determined that icy calm was the best antidote to this conversation, which was fortuitous, since she felt numb all over.

“An’ what reason am I tae give fer this abrupt conclusion tae yer association wi’ Mr. Fraser?”

“I don’t owe him an explanation.  Only sufficient notice and an opportunity to seek counselling elsewhere,” she said, feigning reasonableness.

Pushed past her limits, Geillis rose from behind her desk, a tiny tempest of moral indignation.

“Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp, ye are a good friend, a fine doctor an’ a fair employer.  But I swear by the Almighty that if ye dinna drop the façade and tell me wha’ is going on I am going tae smack ye until yer ears ring!”

There was a certain relief in knowing that Geillis wouldn’t take no for an answer.  And unlike Jamie, she knew where Claire lived and would not let her rest until the truth came out.

“He kissed me.  Or rather, I kissed him.  And I liked it!  That’s why, Geillis.”

Her friend’s shoulders sagged, all righteousness gone in an instant.  She reached around Claire’s frame and held her in a bone-crushing one-sided hug.

“Och, hen.  An’ ye figured ye could deal wi’ those pesky feelings by jes, what? firing him as yer patient?”  

“I can’t deal with this right now, Geillis.  I can’t feel the way he makes me feel.  And this practice is all that I have left.  There’s no way I can risk losing it just for an affair that won’t even last the summer.”

She didn’t need to elaborate on her reasons for that dire prediction.  Geillis knew them as well as anyone.

“He’s an intelligent man, Claire. He’s gonna ken something is up.  Moreover, he’s a good man.  He deserves tae hear the truth.”

Shaking her head sadly, Claire walked towards the door.  Just before exiting, she called back softly to her friend.

“Geillis?  Make sure to include Dr. Rafferty’s name on the list of referrals.  I think they’d be a good match.

***

Monday morning dawned with little promise for the fledgling week.  Moving robotically through her weekend routine, Claire thought frequently of chickens.  How their bodies kept moving once their heads were lopped off, nerves and muscle and bone continuing to function for a time despite the fatal blow.

The elevator chimed its arrival on her floor.  As the doors slide open, Jamie was the first thing she saw.  He loomed by her still-locked office, a sun-topped thundercloud gripping a sheet of printer paper.

She’d worn her best black suit and a pair of chunky heels that brought her closer to his height.  Perhaps, on some subconscious level, she’d anticipated this confrontation.  Perversely, she relished it.  Vitriol and deceit didn’t suit her, but it was preferable to feeling absolutely nothing.

“Do ye mind tellin’ me,” Jamie began before she’d even set foot in the hallway, “jus’ what this is about, Claire?” He brandished the paper like a wanted poster.

“I would think it was self-explanatory, actually.  I’m terminating our professional relationship,” she huffed, golden eyes coming to life for the first time since Thursday.

“Via email.  Sent tae me by Miss Duncan, because ye dinna have the guts tae do it yerself.  Christ, Sassenach, even my ninth grade sweetheart didna dump me so cruelly!”

“I’m not your sweetheart!” she burst out, a flood of emotion cresting with her rising anger.  “Don’t call me that!  I was your doctor, Jamie, and now I’m nothing to you.  Nothing.  Just go.  Please.  Just go,” she finished weakly and without any hope that he’d listen.

“All this jus’ because I kissed you?” Jamie persevered.  At her stubborn silence, he continued, “Nah, I dinna think so.  Ye’re many things, Claire, but a coward isna one of them.”

She found this hysterically funny, since a coward was the only role she played to perfection.  She didn’t have time to laugh, however, because Jamie was suddenly standing much closer, forcing her to lift her chin to meet his stormy eyes.

“Nah,” he continued smoothly, a big cat alerted to the smell of its prey.  “If ye’d objected tae the kiss, ye would have told me so.  Read me the riot act or kneed me in the bawls.  I think ye’re scared, Doctor Beauchamp.  I think that kiss terrified ye, because ye realized ye liked it.  Somethin’ ye couldna  plan for in yer wee journal, right there under yer nose.  Bet it made yer heart beat so fast. So fast, jus’ like it is now.”

Jamie’s hand rested gently over the placket of her suit jacket, where he could surely feel the trip hammering of her pulse.

“Please,” she begged.  “Don’t.  I can’t...”

“Can’t what, Sassenach?” he whispered back, goading her.

The truth hung on her lips, and the toll of the past few days meant that she no longer had the strength to stop it from spilling forth.

“Can’t have children.  Ever.  I tried, for years.  Fourteen miscarriages, fourteen lost chances.  And seeing you with those children last week.  I know it’s presumptive, but I could never deny you that chance, Jamie.  That’s why I can’t see you anymore.”

She was looking down, watching the buttons of his shirt rise and fall with his agitated breath, but as she finished speaking, their movement ceased.  Chancing a glance upward, she was stunned by the fury that had overtaken his expression. 

Jamie opened and closed his mouth several times before he managed to speak in a gritty growl.

“Mutation of the RUNX1 gene tha’ causes leukemia.  I was tested, along wi’ Jenny an’ Ian, after Maggie was diagnosed.  I have a fifty percent chance of passing it along tae my children.  An’ since I canna stand the thought of ano’er bairn havin’ tae suffer as Maggie has, as soon as I got the test results, I went out an’ had a vasectomy.”

Claire recoiled as though she’d been slapped, a high pitched whine in her ears.

“Ye’re no’ the only one who’s hurting, Claire!” Jamie continued, voice dashing against the rocks of her name.  “We’re no’ meant tae suffer alone.  Ye, of all people, should ken that.”

Stunned in the silence following the thunderclap of his revelation, she couldn’t find the words to express her sorrow, her outrage, and her crippling shame.  By the time the power of speech returned, Jamie was gone. 

[cosmic-conundrums]

Someone is singing on the Castleway. Now, this would typically be considered a fairly ordinary occurrence, if not for the fact that the singing is rarely being done by the corpses.

Passing through all four central kingdoms as it does, the Castleway is used for a multitude of purposes, not least among them the punishment of traitors and criminals. The lesser ones, generally. Those of import are most often dealt with personally by those they have wronged, and often with a certain flair and originality befitting their crimes. But for most, the Castleway is where they face their retribution, though it is sometimes considered more than they deserve.

The road itself is a patchwork of hard-packed dirt, cobbled stone, and tough wooden slats, depending on where you stand. As borders and rulers have changed, so too has the Castleway, going through countless damages and repairs until it is unrecognizable from the wide earthy trail it was in the early days. It is still wide, of course, wide enough to fit three full-size wagons side by side. And it is busy. The people flow like fish through a river, on carts and horses, in groups and as one; shouting, talking, laughing. Trading amongst themselves, breaking off old relationships and forging new ones, gathering fame and fortune and everything in between, all in the course of one journey. One can learn more about the world from following the Castleway than from any storyteller or newscarrier in the realm, it is said.

None of this is entirely relevant to this particular tale, however, or at least not quite so relevant as the stakes.

The stakes, referred to as ‘the Judge’s fingers’ by the general populace, line the Castleway on the left side. Heavy wooden stakes, as big around as trees, taller than even the most towering of persons, driven into the ground, each through a small wooden platform. They are spaced out irregularly along the path, so it is nigh impossible to guess how close one’s proximity will be to the next (nigh impossible only when considering the factor of luck. Remove that and it is simply impossible to guess).

These Judge’s fingers are where the aforementioned traitors and criminals face their retribution. To be sentenced to the Castleway is to be sentenced to either a slow, excruciating demise or a merciful release, on the whims of the Judge Eternal and Final. It is to be cruelly and brutally abandoned, to have the strings cut on your control over your fate. It is to be tied to a stake by the side of the road, and left there; handed over to the gods and the elements. Most die after only a couple of days. Brought down by starvation, storms, fires, the savagery of beasts or humanity. There are endless forms of death waiting on the Castleway. It is simply a matter of which one gets to you first.

There are not always occupants of the fingers, but it is often safe to assume that there will be one or two watching you as you pass by, eyes bright with anger or dark with despair. Some will shout, some will beg, some will cry. Some will say nothing. Most are already too dead to make a sound. This one, however, is singing.

It’s an unfamiliar song, the tune high and haunting, the voice sweet and rough, like crystallized honey. And it is ruining Ridley’s day.

It is incredibly bothersome to have your entire life’s purpose usurped by a corpse that refuses to die or shut its mouth. Alright, Ridley supposes, that’s a bit dramatic. But drama, as well, is a piece of what he was born to do, and at this particular moment he is having a disastrous time attempting to do it. The song on the breeze has a nasty habit of throwing him off his own melody, and every attempt to drown it out is met with new fervor from the singer. It’s frustrating as all hell, and Ridley has yet to see the face of his foe, which only stokes his ire further. He keeps his eyes on the fingers, scanning the expressions of those both alive and dead, watching their lips to see if they move. He wants to look upon the one who is ruining his day… and perhaps punch them. He hasn’t quite decided yet.

He’s nearly given up on trying to locate the singer and decided to push on and ignore the irksome voice, when he sees them. He can’t quite see the figure’s mouth moving from his vantage point a ways down the road from them, but he knows it’s them upon first sight. It can be no one else.

The figure stands tall and proud, despite being tied to a stake and the fact that they appear to be no more than five and a half feet of height. Unlike the others, they hold their head high, not a hint of defeat shown. As he gets closer, it becomes clear to Ridley that the figure is smiling as they sing, a soft, smirking grin, as if they know something everyone else does not.

Up close, Ridley can make out the words on the sign nailed into the post above the singer’s head. The letters are a slash of sanguine paint on dark wood, but they are easy enough to interpret: This man is sentenced to the Judge for heresy and refusal to submit to arrest.

The heretic himself is slight of build, with the type of lean muscle that comes from working with a weapon. His features are sharp yet fine, as though delicately cut from a rough stone; pointed chin, high cheekbones, distinctly sloped nose. There is a pale smattering of freckles across said nose and cheekbones, standing out prominently in the brilliant sunlight. His eyes glitter silver with humor and defiance, the expression turning their swampy grey color to radiance. His lashes are unusually long and dark, giving those eyes a captivation that is difficult to look away from. His hair, an auburn reminiscent of leaves in the falling season, falls just to his shoulder in the slightest of waves. He is dressed in the simple white shirt and leather breeches granted to prisoners, but he manages to make them look like the garb of a prince.

He continues to sing as Ridley watches, despite how he must have noticed the other standing there. He doesn't give any indication, however. Ridley folds his arms and glares, a challenge waiting to be met. The singer's eyes flick to him briefly, and he lifts an eyebrow in… invitation, it almost seems like. Well, Ridley’s not about to let that opportunity go.

With a flourish, the bard twirls around and deposits himself on the wooden platform at the base of the stake. He makes himself comfortable, crossing one leg over the other with pointed elegance. He flicks his eyes up to the heretic and attempts a scowl, and is met with absolutely nothing in return. So it’s going to be like that, is it? I see. Well, two can play at that game.

Two, as it turns out, cannot play at that game. The heretic continues to sing, and the song continues to distract Ridley in all his attempts to drown it out. To be honest, the bard isn’t exactly sure what he had intended to do here. He has a habit of making decisions like this, taking action without even considering what action to take.

The song never seems to end, the verses carrying on and on until Ridley nearly becomes convinced that it’s the only song he will ever hear again. No matter how intently he listens, he cannot for the life of him figure out the language. The words flow like a river, the vowels rolling like waves and the consonants crashing on the shore. It fits beautifully with the singer’s voice, Ridley has to admit, the slightly rough tone adding an unexpectedly welcome contrast to the smooth melody. The tune is just begging for a harmony.

Damn my nature, Ridley thinks as he begins to hum, testing the notes until he finds the ones that fit, turning the heretic’s song into a duet. He can’t follow along with the words, but the rest of it is easy enough to pick up. He sings loudly, lifting his voice up to carry along the Castleway. He’s always had a powerful voice, it’s one of the qualities that determined his prowess as a bard from a young age. There had been people listening to the heretic’s song from the start, but once Ridley joins in, more and more heads turn as they pass on the road, and some even stop to listen. Mostly families, dragged over to the side of the road by young children captivated by the music. Some merchants stop by, nodding gently along to the tune before moving along on their path. A group of soldiers for hire scowl at them as they pass, and Ridley scowls back. He’s never much liked soldiers. There’s another bard that stops as well, and performs an elegant dance for the heretic, bowing at the end before skipping away, humming the tune as she does so. And there’s an oddly pale figure, with strange colorless eyes and silvery hair despite its apparent youth, who stays longer than the rest, standing before the platform with its head cocked to one side, a mysterious glimmer in its eyes. The heretic ignores it, but Ridley stares right back at the figure, taking in its expensive clothing and well-groomed facade. It met his eyes with a cool, amused gaze, as unbreakable as stone. Now, Ridley may have a strong voice and a stronger will, but he folds under that gaze. He lowers his eyes as the figure smirks and walks away, strolling as though it has all the time in the world.

Not long after that, the song ends. The heretic’s voice trails off into the wind, and he closes his eyes, tilting his head back against the rough wood of the stake he is tied to. He appears… peaceful, content. It’s not an expression one would expect to see on the face of someone condemned to death, but then again it has already become clear that this someone is not much like the others.

“Thank you,” the singer says as Ridley is preparing to rise to his feet and leave, feeling silly and a bit embarrassed over what he has just done. Ridley startles. “For what?”

The heretic opens his eyes and smiles. “You made it beautiful.”

He’s talking about the song, Ridley realizes. “It was beautiful before,” he says in response. “Without me.”

“Not nearly as much,” the heretic points out. Ridley finds himself blushing faintly, proud of himself. “Well, you know, it comes with being the most famous bard and storyteller on this side of the four kingdoms.”

“Famous?” the heretic quirks an eyebrow. “Are you really?”

Ridley shrugs. “Probably. More famous than you, I’d bet.”

“Well, that would be because I am infamous, my small singing friend.”

Ridley has to bite down on his lip until he draws blood to keep himself from bursting out indignantly at being referred to as small. “I suppose that makes sense, you being a heretic and all.”

The heretic cocks his head, the light catching on a set of tiny ragged scars just around the edges of his mouth, mostly faded. “Is that what they call me? Heretic?”

“It’s not a very pretty name,” Ridley agrees. The heretic grins, the pale scars stretching. “I prefer Faraday,” he says.

“Now that is a pretty name,” Ridley bends over and plucks a pristine white daisy from the patch growing around his feet. “Faraday. Day. Daisy. Faradaisy. Can I call you Daisy?”

Without waiting for an answer, the bard plucks a few more of the flowers and begins weaving them into a crown. “So, Daisy, if you are not a heretic, what then are you?”

Faraday hmms in thought, tilting his head back against the wooden stake once again. “I am someone who believes,” he says, softly yet firmly.

“Is that not what we all are, at heart?” Ridley points out. He isn’t looking, but he can hear the heretic’s laughter. “I suppose you would call me a prophet, then,” Faraday confesses.

A prophet. Interesting. “I find that prophets and heretics are often the same, depending on who you ask.”

That laugh again, a shockingly harsh sound. “You speak true. Unusual for a storyteller, in my experience.”

“Many stories are true,” Ridley bites back, defensive.

“Many are not,” Faraday returns. Ridley huffs, defeated. He turns back to his daisy crown, but the silence quickly begins to bother him.

“You know, you’re in surprisingly good spirits for someone sentenced to death,” he says, forcing himself to remember the situation the other is in. Don’t get attached, Riddles. But if Faraday hears the bitterness in his tone, he doesn’t show it.

“Oh, I’m not going to die,” the prophet replies, confident as a king. Ridley whirls around to frown at him, doubtful. Faraday smiles brightly, tilting his head away from Ridley so the hair falls back from his throat, revealing another scar, this one thick and fairly recent, judging by the clear visibility of the stitches holding the flesh together.

“I have been sentenced to death too many times to count,” he explains softly, his rough honeyed voice falling uncharacteristically flat. “And not once has it killed me. Why should this be any different?”

“Gods,” Ridley chokes out, openly staring. He’s never seen a scar like that. He’s never seen a wound like that. He hadn’t thought anyone could survive something like that, let alone come out of it walking and talking and singing, for Executioner’s sake. “What did you do?”

“To make the world want my head on a platter?” Faraday sighs. “Well, that’s quite simple. I killed their gods.”

I killed their gods. I killed their gods. I killed their gods.

“Well,” Ridley says simply, sounding a few shades more hysterical than he had intended, “that would do it.”

Faraday nods, a slight acknowledging dip of the head, and turns his face to the horizon, his eyes sparkling in the light of the setting sun. “They are dead,” he says again, more to himself than to anyone else. “Whether they fell by my hand or another’s, I cannot say. But I know. I have stood upon their graves. I know.”

Ridley studies him, attempting to work through the puzzle that is Faraday the condemned. The prophet is sincere, that fact is as clear as day. Insane, but sincere. I am someone who believes, he had said. Someone who believes… Someone who believes.

It would be better if I left him here to die, Ridley thinks to himself. It would be the best thing to do. To most, it would be the only thing to do. But Ridley is someone who believes as well. Believes in hearing the full tale, in seeing it through to the end no matter how many tavern patrons or bored lords are screaming at him to quit the racket. There’s a song here. I can feel it.

Faraday startles when Ridley begins sawing at his bonds with his small dagger. “What are you doing?”

“You have a story,” Ridley babbles, justifying his actions to himself as much as to Faraday. “There’s something- I think there’s a story here. Something good. Something to make a legacy out of. I’m not- It can’t end here. I don’t think it’s supposed to.”

Faraday watches him, a slow, genuinely delighted smile crossing his scarred lips. “I never thought anyone would tell my story,” he says, and the soft surprise in his voice awakens a twinge of pity in Ridley. “I don’t see why not, it’s bound to be an adventure. I’ve always wanted to go on an adventure, you know?”

The ropes fall away in a slithery heap, landing in a puddle at Faraday’s feet. The prophet steps away from the stake, stretching his arms wide and throwing his coppery head back so the light shines full in his face. Now that his hands are free, the thick bands of scar tissue around each wrist are clearly visible, indicating countless bindings and chainings. He looks like a saint, standing there scarred, dressed in the simplest of clothing, long hair lifting in the wind. He looks like a king. He looks like a mistake waiting to be made.

When he has finished soaking up the last of the sunlight, Faraday bends to collect the crown of daisies Ridley had made. He places it on his head as reverently as he would a crown. “It suits you,” Ridley tells him. Faraday smiles, but it quickly falls as he glimpses the sign hung over his stake.

“They called me a man,” he mutters. “I do not like being called a man.”

“I understand that,” Ridley sighs. “I’m not always a man either.”

Faraday lingers on the sign a moment more, before turning on a heel, as fluid as a dancer, and strides off down the Castleway. He picks up his earlier song again, belting it loud to the heavens and the core of the earth. Ridley shakes his head as he follows, wondering what in the name of the Judge, Jury, and Executioner he has just gotten himself into.

At least it will be an adventure.

[onesunofagun]

Undeath in the Era of the Hero of Time : 1

aka Seeing the Hero’s Shade in this TP replay shook up all my feelings of agony again and now I’m working backwards from there because I like to hurt myself.

Part One: An Overview of How Fucked Things Are ™

aka The Blood Soaked Hyrule of OoT’s time 

Take it as you will, in the Zeldaverse, the colour green has an overwhelming association with undeath. 

Sure, sure, life too, I hear you. Farore came down and produced all the living beings that would uphold the law, apparently (specifically not claiming monsters and demons, but that’s another thing). On the surface, that make sense. Forests, lush green fields, prosperity, all of those good things. Green the colour of the most common rupee, green the colour of the Hero’s tunic. Green the colour of magic, and potions that revitalise the body and spirit.

The thing is, revitalising the body and spirit is a flexible idea. To imbue something with new life and vitality can have a lot of implications, especially when you stop talking about the strictly living. 

I feel vitality is certainly the best word, not only because of it’s association with life and potency ala the Goddess origin stories, but in the ways that the game uses green itself, such as a measure of both magic and stamina. Green is the colour chosen to represent the unlocked potential within young Heroes. 

Vitality specifically refers to a state of being strong and active, and it also refers to the continuance of something to exist. That’s a great thing for plants, or economies, or a potion taken by a young Link who’s swung their sword around or fired off a spell one too many times and feels a little low.

But the dead, though?

As it happens, Hyrule is absolutely littered with human remains, in no small part due to the very recently ended civil wars. 

The Civil War, if you need the reminder, is described as a time when the many races of Hyrule were divided and each focused on establishing dominion over the Sacred Realm (because Triforce). I touched on this in my last meta post, but basically, its no holds barred to stop that from happening because if the wrong person gets into the Sacred Realm and makes a wish, it immediately malfunctions. 

The criteria for getting into the Sacred Realm and touching the Triforce without royally fucking everything, is basically impossible for anybody not chosen by Hylia. 

If you are neither of Hylia’s Bloodline (The Hyrulean Royal Family) or one of her Chosen Avatars (The current incarnation of the Hero), you are not supposed to touch the Triforce. Ever. You WILL be found wanting, it WILL shatter, the Sacred Realm WILL be corrupted by your selfish desires, it WILL unleash and onslaught of mystical influence (reflecting your heart) onto the country.

Now, if it’s Zelda or Link who touches it, that’s fine. Good vibes will pour out. An age of prosperity will ensue. The Sacred Realm is in its default state, a blank and neutral wellspring of magical force.

The game has been rigged from the get go because Hylia still had a job to do. She had to get creative because Demise almost captured the flag, so to speak, leading to the snafu of the Cycle and all that because she cheated at the game, but ultimately Hylia’s task was to guard the Triforce. And that still remains true, for the most part. The Hyrulian Royal Family (and the Shiekah by extension) had to stop at absolutely nothing to win the wars and unify the country, and retain the stasis of the Realm and Triforce, because that’s what their divine orders are.

That’s what they’re supposed to do, ‘the very reason that they’re born’, to lend a quote from King Daphnes. With Hylia on their side by default, they’re willing to do a lot of fucked up things to make sure that happens, ‘for the greater good’.

These dark times are a result of our deeds... -- TP Zelda

In OoT The Sheikah are known as the Shadow Folk. They are heavily associated with death, whether that is caring for the dead’s rest in the graveyard, or working as spies and assassins on behalf of the Royals, or dabbling in various forms of necromancy. Red eyes are an established trait of their people. I will note that, at least from a Japanese point of view, red is often used with the intention of intimidating evil spirits. But it is also a color identified with power and vitality.

So, one could suppose, the Sheikah red eye also symbolises power/control over evil and darkness (spiritually).

That’s a little something that plays nicely with things like the OoT Manga’s explanation of the tear on the eye (and the previous betrayal of the Royal family) and the high probability of a Shiekah faction defaulting during the wars and being banished with other traitors to become the Twili. I know the manga isn’t canon and also SS Impa has a tear, but if you squint, that might be because of her own feelings of personal failure to the Goddess after Hylia’s shedding of her Divinity. You could headcanon that. The existence of the Yiga later in BoTW as a similar happening of division and betrayal lend some more weight to things.

Also, Sheikah who defaulted during the civil war might have even been the ones who actually utilised the Shadow Temple. 

Headline: Necromancer ninjas in the process of torturing enough info out of the enemies of the Royal family, who were reportedly seeking the Sacred Realm, decide ‘hey fuck it, let’s take it ourselves’. 

That certainly fits into the description of, ‘interloper skilled with dark magic started to appear, seeking dominion of the Sacred Realm’, for me.

Anyway, to the point.

In ostensibly one of the most haunted areas of the game, Kakariko village, we’re treated to the Graveyard and the Royal Family’s Tomb, the Shadow Temple, and the Bottom of the Well. All of these showcase the obvious death and torture that went on, as well as the creepy byproducts of places so saturated with blood, pain, regret, and hatred.

There are skulls in little alcoves on the walls of the catacombs, literally built of bones, who deliver messages to Link. The ones that whisper these messages are all marked by the glowing green eye sockets. Here, the green is used to make the presence of a ghostly sentience inhabiting the skull. 

Unsettling. Musty. 4/10 heebie-jeebies.

The Deadhand, giver of childhood trauma that it is, really does its job to hammer home the fact that there has been so many deaths, so much anguish and horror, that those remains can seemingly form into entirely new monstrosities. An amalgamate of undead flesh and nightmare fuel, made up of the body parts of torture victims and the grudges of lingering spirits, seeking to consume the living vitality of whatever comes near-- Link wearing green around the thing might as well be red to a bull.

When defeated in game, it typically drops a small green pot that refuels Link’s magic.

This is a common theme with undead enemies, specifically the ones that are of the zombie flavour. Redeads, Gibdos, Deadhands. All of them generally give up, effectively, distilled magic as a drop item.

Terrifying. Probably smells even worse. 11/10 heebie-jeebies.

Literal torture device. So many people died here, the room has a green tinge to it. It is soaked in the spiritual imprint of the pain and anguish that took place here. Blood sits here looking freshly spilled, despite the civil war ending many years prior and the Shiekah having ‘died out’, save Impa.

Elsewhere in the temple and under the well, blood splatters are darker red and at least have the decency to pretend to be old. This means one of two things:

Impa still has to make sacrifices to the Seal that contains Bongo Bongo, or feeds people to the undead creatures who lurk down in the dark so they don’t wander up. (Cue the gasp of ‘so that’s why she let the Hylians into Kakariko! Every so often one of them goes missing!’)

Which is a fun dark headcanon to play with, but probably not the case.

Or more likely, the residual spiritual energy that the green haze suggests manifests fresh blood in a manner typical of extreme hauntings. For the victims, their hatred and pain persists so strongly, that their blood seeps up from the cracks no matter how long it has been.

Poltergeist shit. Slip hazard. 8/10 heebie-jeebies.

Then there is this. Some people say its just another torture thing, it could have been intended to convey some sort of acid dip. If not torture, maybe bodily disposal. And sure, that’s a reasonable guess. 

But it is at the very bottom most cavern of the Well of Three Features, and if it were acid-- for how long the bodies have just been marinating in it-- you can assume nothing would be left of them to stick out. And the fact that all the bodies are neatly spaced, with the arms oddly preserved. They’re presumably like that from lowering bodies in from the wooden beams, the victims may have been tied up with their arms straight upwards. 

But, given the Redeads wandering around nearby, I’m pretty sure that’s what this thing does. Make Redeads.

The liquid itself hurts Link, but Link is also alive, and this pool seems to be lacking much of a glow. It’s green, sure, but it’s not exactly teeming with energy. And I think that might be part of its designated purpose-- extracting that green vital energy from living prisoners, draining them until they’re dead. I’m talking juicing people and scooping out the good stuff like the pulp from a really disturbing OJ. 

But still steeped in the juice as a corpse, you’re basically pickled in magic brine, so then those gross husks crawl out as Redeads. (Hey, you know what’s handy in wartime? Scaring the shit out of enemy forces by sending some zombies at them. And if they kill them, you’ve lost nothing. If the Sheikah could actually control them? Undead soldiers. Excellent stuff.)

But all the pulpy good stuff is gone, and has been for a while, so most of the bodies in there haven’t pickled in enough magic to reanimate, I suppose.

Human juicer that churns out zombies. Out of juice currently. 6/10 heebie-jeebies.

Now, THIS is active zombie juice, if I’ve ever seen it.

This is the Royal Family’s Tomb, by the way. Note the skeletons, picked clean, missing a lot of bones. And that’s a choice they made, because there are also full skeletons around to find. 

There are plenty of Redeads down there, for good measure, so I’m going to assume the skeletons are potential graverobbers who were eaten. If Sheikah can presumably command the dead, then the Redeads down there might actually be a counter measure against thieves. If a thief freaks out in the dark when he realises there’s undead down there trying to eat their face, there is also a good likelihood they’ll trip and splash into this green death. A few seconds of exposure is probably enough to kill the average person, and then if their corpse stews for a bit, you have another Redead. 

Their living energy revitalises the goop. Their body becomes bolstered security measures. It’s a self sustaining system.

Horrific but effective. 5/10 heebie-jeebies.

Also, there’s a chance that a couple of the skeletons or one or two Redeads down there are the remains of the Composer Brothers. But they will get their own special part in this series, covering Poes in particular.

But for the moment, let it be noted: their eyes are also that ghostly green.

Poes are spirits that are unable to move on and who have the unfortunate fate, if left unattended, of turning into phantom monsters who forget their human selves and prey on the living. They tend to pop up the most in two places. One, the Kakariko Graveyard, is obvious and somewhat expected. Dead people, lots of lingering spirits, most of them probably Sheikah and Knights of renown who died in the line of duty. Understandable.

So when you apply the same thought to the fact that Hyrule field is the second most common place to find them, you may as well be concluding that it’s an enormous mass grave of war casualties.

We have established that mass quantities of concentrated death, especially earth that is saturated by the spilled blood of strong soldiers and highly skilled warriors (full of life and magic, as it were), can result in creepy shit made from human remains reanimating over time. 

Poes share their haunting of the field with these bumpkins:

These hauntings are not the result of Ganondorf, or the corruption of the Sacred realm. They are not a particular curse placed by anybody.

The Poes and Stalfolk are present in the game from the very beginning, and quite normal fare for Hyrulean life. Lon Lon ranch and castle town are walled off for good reason, and the drawbridge raises at night specifically in response to the literal skeleton monsters who roam around at night. 

Stalchildren, specifically, seem akin to the Deadhand in that they are not a direct reanimation of any one particular set of remains. Rather, they seem to be mutated amalgamations of various parts. In the case of the Stalchildren, they rise up under the dark of night, a not-quite-human formation of bone and magic. They seem to possess an aimless drive to attack, perhaps possessed still by the orders of the soldiers who died there. 

Interestingly, in a somewhat similar fashion to BotW’s blood moon reanimating the fallen monsters (due to the potency of Malice in the land peaking at those times), Stalchildren only seem to be active under the moonlight. They disintegrate when the sunlight touches them, which promotes the idea that they are the bones of the fallen possessed by the ghostly memory of the war.

They also appear to wear raggy leather kilts, which is a feature they share with the related monster, the Stalfos, who are often acting out the part of a soldier as well. Even better, those bastards are actually WEARING GREEN, to boot, which given the history of Hyrulean Knights prior and their uniforms (SS and Minish cap) is pretty self evident. 

Stalfos, however, are also confirmed as humans who have died under certain unique circumstance (such as the magical influences of the Lost Woods) and reanimated as a consequence of what I assume is basically magic poisoning.

It could be a bit like an overdose, succumbing under the intense mystical forces at play within proximity to the Deku Tree (which the strong of spirit can resist). It could be a draining effect, maybe even just a gaseous version of what’s happening when people come into contact with the green goo, except extracted by the forest spirits and plants (also possible that the strong of spirit might resist). That could go either way.

The forest absolutely does eat people’s spiritual energy, though. RIP to Grog and Link’s mother. They’re Stalfos now.

"Anybody who comes into the forest will be lost. Everybody will become a Stalfos. Everybody, Stalfos."

Upon killing both kind of Stal, however, the bones rapidly deteriorate into flames.

You guessed it: green.

I’ve already pointed out a BoTW reference already, but to add more context back into this thing about the tie between green and things in Hyrule that refuse to die properly:

That last one is cheap of me I’m sorry but we’ll get to him too

So we have established that green has an overwhelming association with not only life, but states of undeath.

The overview is, things were already pretty fucked in OoT Era before Ganondorf got the Triforce.

On to part 2!

[burning-clutch]

Shielded From The Truth

Cross posted on A03: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30441042 -.-.-.-.- Warnings: Mild wounds. Number two in the phic phight! When his parents put a shield up around Casper high to keep the ghosts out, and it means that Danny’s day hardly goes to plan. And he was so close to being on time for once too…. PHIC PHIGHT 2021 For team ghost! -.-.-.-.-.- Prompt by: Silverwing013 Danny's parents have kindly offered to set up a ghost shield generator for Casper High. Hijinks ensue as Danny attempts to handle the situation. 

-.-.-.-.-.-

Danny groaned as he only half listened to his parents rattle off whatever ghost nonsense they were going on about as he ate his breakfast. A bowl of dry cereal because the milk was contaminated and he really didn’t want to chance it giving him more than a stomach ache. This had become the norm this week it seemed as his parents seemed invested more than usual into the ghost shields that they had been working on and improving.

Why only shields? They would be installing one in the school soon… but beyond that? He wasn’t sure. They probably told him, sure, but being a teenager and one that had parents that hated half of him, had the effect of making him only lightly listen to the weapons and things that were meant to fully kill him off. That and at least the ghost shields weren’t usually a hindrance to him, in fact, they had proven themselves useful on a few occasions.

Plus he had the added advantage of being able to simply return to his human form and slip through the shield with little issue. Given his parents had no knowledge of half ghosts existing, at least he hoped not, they shouldn’t be designing a ghost and human shield. After all, that would defeat the purpose, right? It wasn’t as if Amity really had any human threats anymore.

Well, regardless of the eccentricities of his parents he could at least take some comfort in the fact that Skulker couldn’t simply attack the school to get to him any longer.

Small mercies he supposed.

Danny blinked as his father said something to him before slapping him on his back causing the teen to practically choke on his cereal from the force of the smack. “Isn’t that just great Dann-o?” the large man exclaimed happily before looking at his son expectantly. Oh great, he wanted him to ask something? Great.

“S-Sure” Danny choked out as he flailed, grabbing in front of him for the orange juice he had nabbed from the fridge, it thankfully hadn’t been in there long enough to start glowing… yet…

He shook his head as he finally got his breath back without inhaling dry cereal pieces into his lungs. When he was sure he wasn’t going to sound like some dollar store squeaky toy he tried to ask his parents a question, always a dreadful time if he were honest, but hey, he would usually be late for school anyway.

“So this will go around the whole school?” Danny tried weakly.

“Yep! And the best part is it’ll sense where there's an evil ectoplasmic entity nearby and spring up instantly! We made sure there won’t be a ghost within Twenty feet of the school before that puppy jumps up to the rescue! Like a big Fenton airbag!” Jack exclaimed all too enthusiastically for what the current time in the AM should allow a normal person to exhume.

Danny hummed noncommittally and sent a glance of ‘help me’ to his sister, who, in turn, rolled her eyes at her little brother. “And the shield even uses the ghost’s power to run the shield right?” Jazz asked side eyeing her father from her own spot not wanting to fully engage in the conversation they were having.

“Oh, yea! That’s the best part!” Jack practically cheered out.

“And the stronger the evil skum is the faster the shield will react and sooner it will be picked up. It will only go off on a level three or higher.” Maddie explained with a pleasant smile as she sips at her coffee.

“And we got it all finished last night to be ready for you kids today” Jack added happily.

“Hooray, more fun on a Monday” Danny sighed out into his last bites of cereal. Jazz snorted but didn’t comment, though Danny blew her a childish raspberry.

Jack continued to go on about the more intricate details of the shield they had put up though only one thing really caught his attention in the spiel, “-And Vladdie helped with the funding to outfit the school! Even helped us get the materials we needed to make such a large shield!”

“Ah, there it is…” Danny groaned letting his head fall forward onto the table in instant defeat.

“Danny! I really wish you would learn not to stay up so late playing video games! Look at you! If I get another call from one of your teachers about you sleeping in class-” Maddie started only for Danny to cut her off jumping to his feet.

“Yep! Thanks for that, mom! Look at the time! Love you bye!” Danny prattled off quick as could be before grabbing his book bag by his feet and bolting like a scared rabbit. After all, if his mother never finished that sentence when he inevitably fell asleep he couldn’t be grounded… she never officially gave him the last warning…

That’ll work, right?

It wasn’t long when he was out of the house that he was at his usual waiting spot for Sam and Tucker. Unsurprisingly, Sam got there first though they didn't have to wait long for Tucker to lumber forward, half asleep to his friends, and together they made their way towards the school as a unit.

Things seemed well enough until he got onto the stairs leading up to the main doors. That was when all hell broke loose. A deep alarm sounded before his father’s voice rang out from the speakers, in his over the top cheery way that only Jack Fenton knew how to pull off.

“Attention kids! Guess there’s an evil spook nearby so we’re deploying the shield! This ghost protection was brought to you by Fenton-works and sponsored by your mayor!”

Danny frowned. “My ghost sense didn’t go off…” He mentioned quietly to his friends.

“Maybe the shield sensors are more sensitive than you are?” Tucker asked with a frown.

“Since when?” Sam argued incredulously.

“Well who or whatever it is, it isn’t bothering me right now and no one’s screaming, no one’s panicking, so it can wait. I’m actually going to be on time for once!” Danny says waving the notion off.

He continues his trek up the stairs and towards the doors of the school, though when he reaches the threshold of the shield he finds himself having to really push hard against the thing. It was like hitting a wall of foam or Jell-O. He could push through if he pressed hard enough but it was not pleasant or as easy as going through the air.

Once through the initial shield wall, he blinked slowly feeling sluggish and as though all his limbs were moving through water. He even sort of felt like he was having to ‘swim’ as he walked like he was both heavier and lighter than he should be, but unable to find that buoyancy happy middle ground.

“Dude…” Tucker said smartly as he frowned at his friend’s almost slow motion, yet stop motion like movements. It was eerie, to say the least, not to mention the more pressing issue that he noticed right off the hop, “Your eyes are shining, man. And your, um… Neck...”

Sam, ever prepared for whatever bull their lives seem to throw their way, slipped her bag around to her front and offered Danny a pair of sunglasses, which the halfa put on promptly, along with the spider webbed patterned black and silver scarf.  “I mean, it’s better,” Sam argued, not even giving Tucker's look of disapproval her full attention.

“They’re spider glasses.” The boy states with a shake of his head. “Not really digging the whole-” Tucker waved his arm about Danny’s head in little circles, “-pseudo goth thing” he finished finally. Though he had to admit it was at least marginally better than seeing his friend’s glowing eyes and the electric scars showing up on his neck and disappearing under his shirt collar.

“Better?” Danny asked out sluggish, his voice almost sounding like it was being drawn out on a tape deck that was starting to lack battery power and not playing at quite the proper speed making the pitch and timing slower and lower.

Sam and Tucker shared a look before offering a thumbs up to their friend, both deciding it better not to address… whatever that was… The look they shared between one another spoke of their mutual hope that this would perhaps be one of those problems that simply go away on its own.

Ignoring the problems they have usually makes it go away… Yeah, that always works out.  

Danny makes a grab for the door to pull it open again, having that weird slow stop motion effect, like he was flickering between blinks rather than making a smooth motion forward. “Ehm, maybe don’t move around too much man… it’s um… creeping me out.” Tucker offers helpfully.

“Huh?” it took Danny a minute to process, as while he looked slow to them they seemed to be hyped up on caffeine to him… “Why are you talking so fast?” He wondered, his head almost appearing to glitch into a tilted and confused look.

“I think the ghost shield is making you go all slow motion. Just stop talking.” Sam says forcefully before letting out a shudder of her own.

Sam and Tucker share a glance before they each grab onto one of Danny’s arms and half drag him off to his locker. Despite his friends’ efforts he still got many looks shot his way, and a couple of people started whispering to one another as he passed by them.

“How is this going to work if I’m already weirding everyone out?” Danny asked, voice still sounding like a slowed record as he blinked sluggishly and his head jerked almost unsteadily from side to side. From his perspective, everyone was speeding along and talking at 1.5 times the normal speed.

“Maybe I should look for the ghost that triggered this, maybe Tuck, can you look into this mess?” Danny asked after a moment of trying to figure out what was being said around him through the noise of the hall.

“Yeah that might be best…” Sam responded shifting from leg to leg as she locks eyes with a basketball jock who was staring at their group incredulously.

“I got you, man, I’ll change everything to present and, block any ‘call home’ recommendations.” Tucker pipped up already pulling out his PDA to set that up preemptively.

Danny nodded and let out a hum before glitching his way out the nearest exit and out of the shield’s bounds. Once he slipped back out through the barrier, strangely enough, a harder feat than it was getting in, but that wasn’t a problem he wanted to focus on, he already blamed Vlad so he would simply continue to do so until the fruitloop showed himself.

As soon as he was through the green line of the shield Danny practically fell forward in relief. That stifling feeling now gone from his core and bones making his movements fluid and normal, well as normal as a clumsy half ghost could be anyhow…

It was a moot point and not one Danny wanted to think on too long. He gave a quick “thanks” to his friends, before diving between the dumpster and the school’s bricks, transforming into his ghostly alter ego and taking off into the sky. He would do a few laps around the school and city as he looks for whatever ghost set off the shield.

-BREAK-

It wasn’t until lunchtime Danny returned looking much more windswept and all around more miserable. He entered the courtyard through the side joining his friends out on the picnic table they had claimed.  He made it over to them, flopped down on the bench next to tucker with a groan before his head smacked into the table before him.

“You find them?” Tucker asked around whatever horrid monstrosity of a sandwich he was eating, spewing bits of half chewed bred at Danny’s head.

“No” Came the muffled reply, filled with tired disdain.

“No ghost sense?” Sam wandered, flicking the bits of bread from Danny’s raven hair and back towards Tucker.

“No”

“Huh… You think it was you who set off the shield?”  Sam wondered with a thoughtful frown.

“When I went into the back end of the generator though it wasn’t supposed to go off for anything that low, Danny in human form is like a two at best,” Tucker argued spinning his PDA around to show what he’d found when he hacked into the motherboard of the Fenton’s latest device.

Danny groaned. He supposed had he listened to his parents he could have been more prepared for whatever lunacy his parents’ decided to toss his way but alas, his short attention span and teenage rebellion and lack of caring got the best of him yet again.

Joyous of joys.

He tuned out his friend’s back and forthing for a bit, wondering if he could get away with smashing the device as Phantom when Tucker had his a-ha moment of discovery. Danny turned his head and raised a brow at his friend who was furiously typing away at his device.

“You were right about Vlad, Sam”

“Naturally,” She agreed.

“Well, he had an over right line here specifically set for Phantom’s ecto- signature,” the boy states running his finger along the line of code he’d found in the program.

Danny’s mood instantly brightened at that. “So then we just get rid of that bit right? And BAM everything’s fine?” He asked. “Man, what happened to me? Why do I want to get into the school again?”

“To keep up the illusion of normalcy on this mortal plane.” Sam supplied stabbing at her salad a little more forcefully than she probably needed to.

“Eh, yeah, I suppose.” Danny agreed with a lacklustre shrug.

“There, that should do it” Tucker spoke, interrupting whatever tangent Sam was getting ready to spew off about how normalcy was only an illusion created by corporations or some other such thing.

“And just in time The bell just rang,” Danny says with a small grin clasping a firm hand onto his friend’s shoulder. “Nice one Tucker!” he cheered as the trio made their way over to the doors that would lead them back into the cafeteria.

Unfortunately, as soon as Danny’s hand hit the door handle the shield once again sprung to life, though this time, instead of simply having a hard time passing through the shield, he was thrown back across the field earning a cry from several students who were following the trio.  

“Grapes of wrath Mister Fenton!” Lancer, (of course it was Lancer) shouted out in worry, his shout even carrying over the prerecorded message containing his father’s voice. Lancer half jogged half waddled over to Danny who blinked up blearily to his teacher, eyes flashing green for the briefest of seconds before draining back to blue.

“Leave it to Fen-turd to get himself possessed.” Dash snorted from behind the pot bellied teacher earning a few nervous glances between the small crowd of gathering students. The mutterings of the students didn’t take long to start up after that.

“I’m not possessed,” Danny argued, though, it was rather hard to make said argument when the palm of his hand was burned and leaking ectoplasm from where he had touched the door.

“Course he’s not possessed! He’s a ghost himself!” Wes shouted pointing an accusatory finger at the youngest Fenton.

Danny glared. “Not the time Westly.” He muttered under his breath as he was hauled to his feet by his friends. He tried to brush himself off only to end up smearing the ectoplasm from his hand onto his jeans, leaving a luminescent streak across his thigh.

Seeing his chance the ginger jock was all too eager to point it out. “See look! He’s bleeding ectoplasm!”

“No, I’m not! It’s from the shield! it sputtered out at me.” Danny tried to protest, though even in his own ears it sounded like a weak argument.

“Really?” Wes argued and marched over to the shimmering shield. The teen waved his arms about freely in the shield’s range hopping back and forth pointedly across the line of the barrier before showing his hands and clothes were completely clean of any glowing goo. “See! Ghost!” he accused again after he did a little pirouette to show his lack of ectoplasm.

“Yeah? Well, it sputtered at Danny only ‘cuz it turned on with him in the threshold.” Sam tried to argue back glaring at the ginger, venom in her gaze.

“Well then, why don’t you just walk through the shield Fen-toad?” Dash said with a smarmy grin, ever eager to get his own jabs in and seemingly not wanting to be outshined by the ginger conspiracy theorist’s bullying of his favourite punching bag.

“Fine” He spat back bitterly and marched up to the shield with a huff.

Sam and Tucker exchange a glance with one another as Danny presses his hand into the shield again. Thankfully this time there wasn’t anything that blows him back but he also really had to try and push through the shield.  

Danny could see out of the corner of his eye Wes’s smug grin as he grunts and does his best to push through the shield. His persistence is rewarded and he falls to the ground on the other side jumping up and giving a quick ‘HA!’ as he faces the small gathering crowd of students shifting uncomfortably just beyond the shield.

Sam had a look of exasperation and she looked like she was trying to restrain herself from face palming. Tucker on the other hand had no such restraint. He was almost over eager to bury his face into his hands.

From Danny’s perspective, he simply smacked into the ground and stood back up, but from the other students’ perspectives, Danny fell into the shield but instantly slowed down, looking as though he were falling with the moon’s gravity rather than the earthly speed everyone was used to. It also didn’t really look to them like he had hit the ground, instead glitching his body back into an upright position before cheering in that low slow motion state as he had earlier.

And if that wasn’t damning enough his eyes were glowing a lovely shade of ectoplasmic green.

Wes smirked, seemingly very smug and content with himself and this development. “See told you all he was a ghost!”

“T-that’s enough Mister Weston… Right…” LAncer muttered to himself a few moments watching as Danny seemed to glitch about as he cheered before seemingly realizing something was wrong. “I think there was a procedure to depossess a student…I bet the teachers in Bridgestone don’t have to exercise their students in this manner…” He complains. Sure they had gym class and he would appreciate the pun and irony if he wasn’t so tired.

“I don’t get paid enough for this,” he muttered, ignoring the look of panic that spread across Danny’s face.

It took some doing, a lot of flailing limbs and pressing himself against the damn shield, but Danny soon was through back out and free. His eyes still glowed brightly as he stared at his classmates looking very much like a deer in the headlights. Eyeshine and all might he add.

A few of the students were snickering, because only in Amity park could one get possessed by a ghost and have it come across as though someone had merely said something embarrassing or misheard an instruction and was now staring blankly ahead.

“Er….” Danny stared at his classmates half panicked before simply vanishing from view.

“Moby Dick!” Lancer exclaimed, almost dropping the book he was thumbing through from the Fenton parents. Sure it was a ghost, and could potentially be dangerous, but it wasn’t attacking so there wasn’t really anyone panicking.

Instead, the teacher simply felt tired. “Right, I’ll call the Fentons and let them deal with this, Everyone back inside I do believe the lunch bell rang already!” the teacher called out shooing the students into dispersing.

Danny stood there invisibly and holding strong as he internally groaned. At least they thought he was possessed, that could be easily explained away but he was not looking forward to trying to explain it to his parents…

Still maybe if he gets ahead of this…

It was with that thought in mind that he bolted away into the treeline beside the school, transformed and headed off to his home landing in his bedroom only a few minutes later. He went human, back intangible and invisible came out the door, made sure the coast was clear before speeding his way down into the basement.

He just made it down the stairs startling his mother and father who blinked at him curiously, when the phone rang cutting off his mother’s “Honey? What are you doing home so soon?”

“It’s the school calling Mads,” Jack says, sounding disappointed as the large man sent a look of disapproval to his boy.

“Wait!” Danny jumped forward answering the phone and instantly hanging it up.

“Daniel!” His mother exclaimed abashedly.

“I wanna explain first! Do you know how all your stuff goes off on me? Well, the shield at school started doing that and they think I’m possessed! I’m not, it's just the… ya know…” Danny rambled off hurriedly hoping against hope that his parents wouldn’t try to send him to decontamination … again… (Thanks to his ghost half, it burned in places he didn’t ever want to burn)

“You’re possessed Dann-o?!” Jack exclaimed instantly pulling a Fenton gun from somewhere on his person and brandishing it towards his son.

Danny threw his hands up and waved them placatingly at his father. “NO! Just the normal stuff! The contamination from the portal accident set it off. I got too close to the sensor!” He says quickly ignoring how his parents seem to flinch slightly.

His parents shared a look before his father seemed to deflate, seemingly upset at the fact his son wasn’t possessed. “I thought we fixed that... “ Jack says with a frown. “But, we can’t let the school know we may have messed it up! I know we’ll just run the tests again and fix it in the night!”  

“Yeah, that would be- Wait what?” Danny blinks. Why couldn’t they just go down and fix it normally? Of course, his parents had to be weird about this too. “Thanks… Is there anything you need from me to help?”

And with those words said he almost instantly regretted it. “Well… We would really like to know why your ecto signature lines up perfectly with Phantom’s but perhaps that can wait.” Maddie offered with a small amused smile.

Danny sputtered at that, “Wh-What?”

“We set up a monitoring system so we can tell which ghosts most frequent the school… Phantom was the one that triggered the shield twice today. There actually wasn’t anything else that did,” Maddie explained with a deepening frown.

“You sure you’re not possessed, son?” Jack asked again this time sounding almost defeated in how, well, normal a volume he asked that. The hidden meaning was all too obvious especially after he mentioned his accident…

They thought he was dead! The portal killed him! And as the growing pit of dread grew into Danny’s stomach he couldn’t help but feel awful knowing they were correct in that assumption, well at least half right anyhow.

“Yeah… I’m… I’m me…” Danny managed out his voice cracking

“O-oh hun....” Maddie sniffed.

“But it’s not I… I’m me, I promise and I’m not all dead. I still have a heartbeat and everything!” Danny argued or rather tried to as his mother was quick to kneel before him taking his face in her hands as tears bubbled down her chin.

“Mom really I’m like … half at most. More human with a side of ghostly abilities ya know?”

“Oh, it’s okay Dann-o… You're still my son, I know ya are. It’s been almost a year since that accident and you’re mostly still you.” Jack said. “Just worse grades and more hormones and-”

“Thanks, guys really,” Danny sighed in relief both at dodging the potentially awkward birds and ghostly bees talk as well as the tepid acceptance he was getting. Awkward though it may be it was still acceptance nonetheless.  He was happy for it just the same.

“Maybe while we work on fixing up the shield to ignore Phantom’s signature you can tell us about some things?” Maddie asked sniffling again as she looked over her son’s face trying her best to hold herself together and not outright bawl at the thought she had killed her youngest child.

“Y-yeah… I’ve been wanting to tell you about this for a while now but, well, ya know…” Danny offered uselessly.

“I think it’s us who should apologize for that, son but maybe we can just all go get some triple chocolate fudge milkshakes and go deal with that shield after dinner?” Jack offered with a smile, ever the one to break up tension.

“Yeah, yeah… that sounds good.” Danny agreed. Well, it wasn't how he was expecting this to go, but he was kinda glad it ended up like this. Maybe now they could repair their strained relationship.

As Maddie ruffled up Danny’s hair the teen offered her his first genuine smile in almost a year.

-.-.-.-.-.-

Total words: 4245 Complete

[child-of-hurin]

So I’m thinking of a Narn AU where Húrin isn’t set on Thangorodrim and remains a prisoner in the fortress. His children are still cursed and he is still regularly shown images of them but it doesn’t take up all his time as it does in canon. I bring this up because I was curious what you think about how much of the bad things that befall Túrin and Niënor were explicitly planned before. Because I’ve always thought that the compelled incest part was at least in some way planned before and was very specifically about Húrin watching the ruining of his bloodline (which goes back to my other cursed HCs) in addition to the suffering it would bring his children.

Anyways no pressure to answer or anything I was just curious if this was something you had thought about

-@outofangband

(Disclaimer: I haven’t read much of the HoME besides what pertains the Narn, meaning I haven’t read any extended material on Melkor and so on.)

Honestly this is a very interesting question that I have posed myself before. It brings to mind this passage:

[Transcript:

Report of the Dragon-helm in the land west of Sirion came swiftly to the ear of Morgoth, and he laughed, for now  (1) Túrin was revealed to him again, who had long been lost in the shadows and under the veils of Melian. (2) Yet he began to fear that Túrin would grow to such a power that the curse that he had laid upon him would become void, and he would escape the doom that had been designed for him, or else that he might retreat to Doriath and be lost to his sight again. (3) Now therefore he had a mind to seize Túrin and afflict him even as his father, to torment him and enslave him.]

My conclusions here are:

(1) Melkor’s ‘eye’, which Húrin had been forced to access as well, couldn’t penetrate Doriath under Melian’s power. Makes me think the whole time Túrin was growing up, Melkor had Húrin watch Morwen and Nienor’s growing misery in Dor-Lómin instead?

(2) Everyone has talked about this a hundred times because it is so incredible. So the doom was defeatable? So, cosmically speaking, there was some validation in Túrin’s methods of seeking war and power? Much to think about

(3) This bit is the only passage I can recall where instead of vague threats, the text gives us a concrete plan of Melkor’s for this family. When he sets Glaurung forth, we have absolutely no idea whether his actions were meticulously planned by Melkor, a mastermind, or just strokes of Glaurung’s own evil creative genius as derivated from Melkor’s will or whatever.

So. My opinion is that it isn’t a plan. First and foremost because I hate the anime villain type who was secretly controlling all the variables of the game, but also because I genuinely don’t get this aesthetic from Melkor/Tolkien. Melkor’s power is godlike; it doesn’t come from logic control over the material world, but from a more intimate relationship with what makes the material world itself. 

Thinking of two events: one, when Melkor releases Húrin. Melkor has changed and posioned Húrin’s spirit, but Húrin isn’t aware of that. Húrin still hates Melkor, but, as we see in the Wanderings, he is still an agent of Melkor (to use a term @promin-blog​ used in [that interesting meta post you reblogged recently]). Compare that to Niënor, to whom something very similar happens: Glaurung poisons her spirit and then sets her free.

In my understanding, in neither of those two situations did Melkor or Glaurung know exactly what was going to be the outcome; they just knew it was going to be bad for their captives, and thus, good for them. Melkor is a being of chaos against the benign order of the world, so he fundamentally gains from an increase in the chaos, or a corruption in the order of the world. So when he explains the curse to Húrin, he says:

‘You say it,’ said Morgoth. ‘I am the Elder King: Melkor, first and mightiest of all the Valar, who was before the world, and made it. The shadow of my purpose lies upon Arda, and all that is in it bends slowly and surely to my will. But upon all whom you love my thought shall weigh as a cloud of Doom, and it shall bring them down into darkness and despair. Wherever they go, evil shall arise. Whenever they speak, their words shall bring ill counsel. Whatsoever they do shall turn against them. They shall die without hope, cursing both life and death.’

I take that at face value in terms of, this is literally how it works. He didn’t know exactly that Húrin would kill Mîm, bring the Nauglamír to Thingol, then fight with his once-beloved Haladin kin and cause their destruction, just like I don’t think Glaurung knew Niënor would find Túrin, fall in love with him and have his child. BUT they knew releasing these poisoned agents would benefit their cause one way or another. (I do think Melkor presumed correctly that Húrin might try to find Gondolin though! Hence the spies). So I guess I don’t agree with you that the incest was pre-planned, although I do think the ruining of Húrin’s bloodline was definitely a huge point that, in Melkor’s mind, was probably inevitable. If Túrin had, say, had a baby with Finduilas, Melkor would have gotten a hold of that baby too, at some point... I think when he says he is the master of the Fates of Arda, he means that his will has too powerful a hold over Arda to be broken, and not, necessarily, that he controls every detail of it.

That makes me think of that passage you mentioned recently in your blog:

“But ever the Noldor feared most the treachery of their own kin who had been thralls in Angband; for Morgoth used some of them for his evil purposes, and feigning to give them liberty sent them abroad; but their wills were chained to his and they strayed only to come back to him again” (”Of the Ruin of Beleriand”, p188, The Silmarillion)

It makes me wonder how many of these elves were, like Maeglin, aware of their own collaboration, and how many might have hated Melkor their whole lives while still being agents of his will 😬

It’s a super depressing thing, this possiblity that the Narn puts forth, of an otherwise free person being permanently and inescapably ruined for as long as you hold your material existance in this realm. It is the ultimate corruption of free will, because it means no matter which choices you make, they will always come to evil. You’re helpless: intent doesn’t matter, hard work doesn’t matter. I think it’s fitting with Melkor being a god, after all! That’s why it’s relevant that out of the five members of this family, only one is directly murdered by Melkor’s actions. The others take their own lives, although more indirectly in the case of Morwen - the only one who “was not conquered”. The rest of them, Túrin, Nienor, and Húrin, end up choosing death as an escape, and I think it is in a way because they ultimately understand that Melkor is playing on a godlike level that they, as mortals, cannot reach.

WHICH BRINGS ME TO ANOTHER DEPRESSING THING. We, as readers, have the benefit of knowing that Mandos exists and Eru exists and the Ainulindale happened. We have also read about Beren’s spirit lingering in Mandos waiting for Lúthien. So we ASSUME there is an afterlife for the second-born. We know Tolkien envisioned that, spiritual man that he was. But in the narrative, mortals themselves don’t have any reassurance of that! 

So this exchange here becomes even more chilling:

So? 

Did he lie?

[4stars-uswnt]

This is the End [Tobin Heath x Reader]

requested by anon: honestly anything tobin or christen would be great (angst!!?)

A/N: i wrote this at like midnight bc that’s just when inspiration hit. also this was my first time writing angst so lemme know how it is

warnings: angst, hints at/mention of cheating

sequel

You groan, as you hang up the phone, tossing it across your bed. You had just gotten off the phone with your girlfriend of one year, Tobin Heath. Usually, you loved talking to your girlfriend, as you’d share the events of your days with each other. But lately, it seemed like all you two were doing was fighting and bickering over the smallest of things. The latest topic of discussion was Tobin’s best friend, Christen Press.

—————

Although you trusted your girlfriend, you couldn’t help feel insecure about and jealous of their relationship. It certainly didn’t help that you were currently stuck quarantining in Seattle for training with the Reign, and that Christen was currently living with Tobin in Portland.

When you found out the curly haired forward would be staying with your girlfriend, you were livid, starting one of your many fights.

“What do you mean she’s gonna be living with you?!” You yell, exasperatedly.

“(Y/N/N), it’s not like she can go anywhere. The whole country is basically shut down, and they cancelled all the flights.” Tobin tries to calm you.

“Well, why was she even visiting you?” The jealousy in your voice was now evident.

“She was dropping off some stuff for re-inc and the new launch.” She explains.

“How long do you think she’ll be staying?” You sigh.

“I’m sure it won’t be for that long, babe. I promise she won’t stay any longer than she has to.” She tries to reassure you, knowing you weren’t the most comfortable with the situation.

You rolled your eyes, thinking back to that conversation. ‘Not that long’ had turned into almost four months.

You had always been a little weary of Tobin and Christen’s relationship, or ‘preath’ as the fandom had coined them. It was obvious to any person that Christen had heart-eyes for the other woman, and that Tobin absolutely adored the speedy forward, whether that be as more than a friend, you didn’t know.

While you were confident in your relationship, there was always a small part of you that couldn’t help but second guess yourself and question if those ‘preath’ shippers had a point. Your current situation only increased your deprecating thoughts.

—————

Reaching for your phone again, you open the Twitter app, hoping to take your mind off the fight you had just had with your girlfriend. After going through a couple of posts, you passed one from a few minutes ago, mentioning both Tobin and Christen. Scrolling back up, you scanned the tweet. Your eyes widen, and you drop your phone.

“Hearing Tobin Heath and Christen Press are close to signing deals to play with Manchester United.”

Your heart stopped. Though there was more to the post, you didn’t bother continuing, as you had all the information you needed.

Normally, you would wait a couple of hours after an argument to call your girlfriend back, giving you both some time to cool off, but after seeing what you just saw, you furiously FaceTimed her.

After a couple of rings, you hear her voice.

“Hi.” You can hear the hesitancy in your girlfriend’s voice.

“Hey. Look, I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that, and I trust you, I do, and I’m sorry I get insecure sometimes.” You truly did mean your apology, but at the same time, you just wanted to ask Tobin about the rumors floating around.

“I’m sorry, too, (Y/N/N). I shouldn’t have yelled either, and I know you trust me. This whole situation just sucks, doesn’t it?”

You huff out a ‘yes’, and Tobin chuckles a little.

“So, we good?” You sheepishly ask.

Tobin practically smiles through the phone. “Yeah, we’re good.”

The two of you make small talk for a while, discussing the weather and what you have planned for the rest of the evening, until you decide you can’t wait any longer to hint at the tweet that’s been plaguing your mind.

“Anyways, when do the Thorns start training again?”

“Ummm. I dunno. In like the next week or so.” Tobin says it so nonchalantly that you can’t tell if she’s purposely avoiding the topic or she’s just chill about it, like everything else in her life.

“Well, have you been taking with Mark?” You try again, hoping she’ll tell you about the Man United loan.

“Yeah, a little.” She hums. “Why? When do you start? You meet your new coach yet?”

You let out a small sigh of defeat, before answering her and continuing the conversation. Not receiving any information from your girlfriend, you decide to drive down to Portland the next morning, not only to surprise Tobin, but hopefully to get some answers.    

—————

After about three hours of driving, and a stop for coffee, you reach the doorstep of Tobin’s apartment at around noon. Knocking on the door, you hear Christen’s voice.

“Oh! That must be our Sweetgreen order.”

You roll your eyes. Of course they would order Sweetgreen for lunch.

The door opens, and you stumble back at the sight in front of you. There, in the door frame stands Christen, wearing only one of Tobin’s oversized Jordan t-shirts. The two of you are just staring at each other, her with a look of guilt and shame written across her face, and you, you’re trying to conceal the pain and heartbreak you are currently feeling.

As if to confirm it all, you hear Tobin’s voice approaching from within the apartment.

“Chris! What’s the hold up? Who’s at the door?” Your girlfriend comes up behind Christen, dressed only in a sports bra and a pair of sweat paints. Her eyes widen upon seeing you standing outside her apartment.  

By now, tears are streaming down your face, as you’ve put the pieces together.

You take off running, down the hallway and out of the building, trying to go anywhere, as far away from your girlfri—— ex-girlfriend as possible.

You hear Tobin chasing after you. “Wait! (Y/N)! Let me explain.”

Catching up to you, she grabs your wrist. You turn around, pulling yourself out of her grasp.

“What?! What could you possibly say?” Your voice cracks. Tobin looks down at her feet, obviously ashamed.

“Babe—" She tries.

“NO!” You hold up your hand. “You do not get to call me that.” You sob.

“I’m sorry.” Tears begin to pool in her eyes.

You shut your eyes, willing your own tears away. “I thought you’d at least have the decency to break up with me before jumping into bed with someone else!” You yell frustratedly, taking a deep breath to calm yourself. “I know we’ve been going through a rough patch recently, but I thought we’d be able to work it out. I thought we were worth fighting for. I thought I was worth fighting for.” You whisper the last part, sounding defeated.

Tobin’s heart breaks at the sound of your words. Running her hands through her hair, she inwardly curses, frustrated with herself. Falling in love with two women was never easy, especially when it was with (Y/N) (Y/L/N) and Christen Press, two of the purest people on the planet.

“I never meant for this to happen, (Y/N).” Tobin sighs.

You scoff under your breath at the woman’s cliché and weak defense.

“How long? How long has this been going on?” You hold your breath, not really wanting to hear the answer, knowing it’ll only shatter your heart even more.

“I knew I started to have feelings for her after last year’s SheBelieves Cup. But we only started…ya know… about two months ago.” She reveals.

You feel like you’re gonna throw up. You want to cry, scream, laugh, yell, all at the same time. Instead, you distance yourself from the other woman, asking her one final question.

“So I guess it’s true?”

Tobin continues to blankly stare at you.

“You’re gonna move to England with her? Play for Manchester United?”

She gives you a look, and you can’t tell if it’s one of sympathy or of guilt, and honestly, at this point, you don’t even care.  

“Yeah. Yeah, I am.” She mutters.

“Well,” You clear your throat, pushing down the impending breakdown. “This is it then. This is the end.”

Tobin nods, admitting defeat. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

A new wave of tears gather in your eyes, realizing she won’t even fight for your relationship, or fight for you.

“Goodbye, Tobin.” You turn around and rush back to your car, not giving her the chance to respond.

Shutting the door, you rest your forehead against the steering wheel and let out a sob, now letting the tears fall freely. After a couple of minutes of bawling, you go to drive away, but as you’re leaving, you see Tobin still standing outside the building, staring at you with tear tracks down her cheeks.

Ignoring your broken heart, you glance at the woman one final time and press your foot on the gas, leaving her and your relationship behind.

This truly was the end.