#to present a complete and vulnerable human on screen. To force someone to do that... to dance for a violent and fickle audience... is so

[userautumn]

I don't think actors should be forced / manipulated / cajoled / pushed into stories they don't want to do nor do I think they should have to give an explanation as to why they don't want to do it. I have a lot to say on this subject

[cinnamonest]

how do you think goro would feel about a childhood friend!darling?

Goro Akechi has a lot of hate in that heart of his, but other than the man he hates more than anything, there are two other things he hates the most: lack of control, and vulnerability.

He needs control over situations, over people, and when he can manage it, over the course of fate itself. The Metaverse and years of hard effort into a public persona he wears so flawlessly have granted him the sort of control he desires, for the most part.

He hates to be vulnerable, hates his own weaknesses, hates them being perceived by others.

You present both.

It’s been a long time since you’ve seen him. Really, up until the point you saw his name on screen one day, you admittedly remembered him as ‘that sad boy at school I was nice to when we were little,’ and your memories of him had all but faded into the background of your life, never thinking of him much after that until he pops back into your life.

At first, you think it can’t be the same person, surely. At least until the familiar — albeit aged a bit older than in your memories — face comes on the screen. It feels quite surreal. A drastic shift from the little boy you remember angrily sulking on the playground all by himself away from the other kids, whom you admittedly talked to mostly out of pity. Still, you felt like you bonded in the end, before he got whisked away when the relatives fostering him decided to dump him off onto someone else, thus forcing him to transfer schools.

You’re happy for him. He looks very happy now, you think, his situation must have improved. He’s even living in the city now apparently, just like you.

The positive coincidences stack atop each other when you actually get to see him.

Completely by chance, not seeking him out or anything, you just so happen to be walking home on an uncrowded street, and he just so happened to be coming back from a hit, now as normalized and mundane to him as any other work-related task — and you just so happen to meet right as you each turn a corner, perfectly scenic, as if ordained by fate.

And while Goro Akechi has spent a very long time by now perfecting the art of composure, what he sees takes him so far aback that even he lets the mask momentarily slip — completely freezing up, slack-jawed and stiff with shock and disbelief. There’s a moment where only silence passes, he looks at you like he’s seeing a ghost, an expression almost like horror managing to escape his automatic efforts to keep a straight face.

You don’t notice that part. You’re too caught up in the surprise and elation, gasping and smiling and rambling on about what a coincidence it is, and—

Do you remember me…?

The shock only lasts a split second. The composure is back, the mask pushed back into place, and with practiced mastery of charm, he bounces back near instantly.

Even in spite of the sudden onslaught of emotions and memories that feels like his very soul is being stabbed at, he manages to keep up the usual Prince-Charming act of his. Says the lines expected of him, so standard you could probably guess them before they come out of his mouth — wow, long time no see, what a coincidence, it’s good to see you, how have you been, all the generic phrases and lines one should say, just like the ones you provide in return. A back-and-forth dialogue predetermined by conventions and standards of normalcy and expectation as composed by a given social framework in which all humans live. You do mention that you’ve seen him on TV — for some reason, it makes his stomach feel like its twisting, but he gives you a humble-sounding reply all the same.

All as his heart pounds so heavily it feels like it’s going to burst though is chest. Adrenaline surges thought his veins and every nerve on his body feels like it’s frozen over, an ice-cold chill that runs through his blood, a ringing in his ears, even a lightheadedness that begins to take hold, his entire body reacting in shock and panic.

You fetch a piece of paper from your bag, scribble something down, hand it over to him — his own hand moves reflexively, as if out of his control, to take it. A series of numbers — oh. Your contact. You’re smiling now, saying something about how you would love to catch up sometime. Your voice sounds far away, his head feels like it’s spinning, but he still manages his signature soft smile and voice as he gives you yet another generic reply.

Sure, that would be wonderful.

A few more lines back-and-forth that he doesn’t even remember by the end of the day, his brain essentially giving replies on an auto-pilot means of conversation. He manages to make some excuse about work, churns out a farewell, briskly walks off with a noticeably deliberate fast pace.

You feel a little embarrassed, as you walk home. He seemed in a hurry to end the conversation. Perhaps it was presumptuous to give him a contact. He probably couldn’t care less. He’s a big, important person now, someone like that has no time for someone like yourself.

…

Your suspicions are more or less validated. He doesn’t contact you.

In fact, from the moment he gets home that day, he tries to forget the interaction entirely.

There’s multiple reasons why. For one, you present a potential obstacle, a burden, a risk. He can’t afford to have you complicating things, getting in his way. It takes some time for his heart to stop racing, and that alone irritates him — why do you get to have such a reaction from him, beyond his control?

Moreover, the emotions that hit him when he saw you were too much. Dangerously intense, something he can’t allow to weigh on him, doesn’t have the time to focus on.

To be frank, those emotions were largely negative anyway. The mere sight of your face stirs up all sorts of memories from that era of his life, most of which were deeply unpleasant. There’s a deep-rooted bitterness that rises up in his stomach, old emotions he’s worked so long to suppress, and you came and dug them up in just a few brief minutes. In truth, he thought about you very often back then — he never really got to say goodbye to you (even if, he often bitterly thought, you never cared that much about him anyway), and he had to force himself to forget you over time, and yet you’ve come and undone his efforts.

And finally — the thought of you makes him feel a new emotion, one he does not like. Something like anxiousness, fear, and in turn, anger at himself and you alike for inducing such a feeling. You stand as a sort of weakness, a single unstable factor in a world where he feels like he has some degree of a grasp of control on nearly everything — you feel uncertain, unsteady, out of his reach… no, it’s not just that. You feel unsafe. You have knowledge and memories of him that no one else does, you have seen him at his weakest, and that makes him feel far more vulnerable then he can stand.

And yet, he saves your number to his phone all the same. Lets it sit there.

Most of the time, it’s easy to ignore. He is a busy person, he can keep himself distracted. Sometimes, though, in the odd hours of the night when his emotions are at their peak, he types a message, two, a dozen, he loses count — only to shake his head and come to his senses, huffing in frustration and holding the backspace down until it’s all deleted, cursing himself internally for even coming close to doing something so foolish.

You keep coming up in his thoughts, an emotion he can’t pretend is anything but yearning feels like a knot in his chest, yet the very thought of you makes him feel sick to his stomach. The conflict between the emotions is unbearable, makes him lose sleep, makes him lose focus.

You who knew him when he was this quiet, sullen, embittered child — you were nice to him, one of the only people who showed him genuine kindness back then — you who certainly knows that the charming act in front of the cameras is merely that, an act, a mask, a lie. It feels as if playing a game with one’s own cards facing outwards towards the opponent, completely exposed, laid bare. The act can’t work on you when you know what he’s really like, know his pains and vulnerabilities, have the potential to strike at the weakest parts of him.

Nor do you fall under his realm of control. The means he has for control relies on his ability to enforce it — means to kill and ruin lives. What he wants from you, though — at least, what he wanted from you back then, he won’t let himself even consider the matter now — falls entirely out of the realm of how he likes to control people, the usual purpose for which he desires the manipulation of others — power, advancement in his goals, to snake his way inside to strike.

It's all confusing. Irritating. It's outside the realm of what he has an easy way to manipulate, and that means he's at a disadvantage, that you have an upper hand, and he can't stand for that.

Still, he wonders about you. Every time a camera faces his way, he wonders if you’ll see the filming. When he makes posts to the little page he runs that the fans eat up, he wonders if you visit it too, if you’re one of those thousands of faceless followers. He wonders how often you think about him. He wonders about the day the two of you ran into each other for the first time in so long — did you go home, and look him up online? How long did you spend doing so? What did you read? Did your view of him change, positively, negatively?

And of course, he thinks about you and your life. What have you been up to, since then? Where has your path in life taken you? You probably have friends. You probably have a partner too. You’re someone who always seemed to be loved by others — he still recalls perfectly the burning bitterness in his stomach when he saw your happiness, your family, your friends, the things you had that he did not. How he resented you for it — he still does, even if he tries to tell himself such emotions are childish. Sometimes he almost thinks he hates you, even if in the end he always finds that he can’t.

And worst of all, he finds that the mere thought of you changes how he behaves.

When he’s at a lower-end news outlet interview, he doesn’t put quite as much energy in… until it occurs to him that there’s always a chance you’ll see it, and he finds himself sitting up straighter, putting in more effort into being charming and witty for the camera.

He almost says something in another interview, but it occurs to him that he doesn’t know how you feel on the matter, and he finds himself taking what was originally a strongly-worded response in his head and neutralizing it as much as possible, to avoid upsetting you should you see it and disagree with him. He doesn't even realize it until the words are out of his mouth.

You do that to him. He who has come to think of himself as so far above others, and yet you — some child from long ago who just so happened to find him again and speak to him for no more than a few minutes — influence his actions, you consume his thoughts. You control him, and you don’t even know it, nor did you have any intention to. And even though he recognizes it, even though he tries to put it to rest and forget you entirely, he can’t bring himself to do it, can’t tap the screen to delete the contact.

It’s infuriating. He can’t stand it. The fact that you do what you do to him so effortlessly leaves him seething and stewing in a rage you probably don’t even realize he’s capable of. And that much he’s acutely aware of as well. You know more of the “real” him than anyone else, you saw him in a phase when he was always pouty and melancholic — yet even then, you don’t know the half of it, don’t realize just how much malice and fury rests beneath the calm outward surface, nor how deep it runs.

He’s not a delusional sort, he’s very self-aware, and he knows how ridiculous the thoughts he’s having are — yet he has them anyway. It’s what, three in the morning, and here he is sitting on the edge of is bed, hunched over in the dark with his face in his hands, stewing in bitterness because he just can’t stop thinking about you. Yes, he knows the thought is absurd, yet he allows it anyway — allows himself to blame you, to resent you for it as if it were an intentional act on your end, to think of you as audacious, having committed some grand transgression against him.

He’s a celebrity, a genius, he has powers unfathomable to the average person — and here you are, you’re nobody, making him think about you. The more he gives in and allows himself to slip into that way of thinking, regardless of how nonsensical he knows it is, the angrier and angrier he gets, the greater the malice that swells in his chest—

—and the darker his thoughts become on what to do with you.

If he forces himself to think it through reasonably, of course, he realizes that you’ve done nothing wrong, that you’ve been nothing but kind to him, and maybe, just maybe, a part of him even feels guilty for any unwholesome, sinister thoughts run through his head — you don’t deserve anything bad to happen to you, and he’s being embarrassingly childish for such boorish, overly-simplistic thoughts like keeping you and taking you away and hurting you and making you pay. Particularly the last — you’ve done nothing wrong, nothing to deserve any harm, and in the rational part of his mind, he knows this.

But if he were to allow those petulant feelings to take over…

If he let the irrational resentment and yearning and attachment and bitterness take over, if he stopped being rational about it, if he just acted on impulses and feelings alone, then he would have something to make you pay for. To make you the object of all the negative emotions that plague him, make you an outlet for his crippling desperation and rage and affection and covet and pain and misery and yearning — yes, he could put all those emotions into you, unload that burden and force you to take it off his shoulders, force you to be something for him to have to himself and use for his own desires and ease of his pain like he always wanted back then.

Maybe he never stopped wanting that, even if he forced every thought of you to the back of his mind for so many years. It was easier to deny the yearning when he could tell himself he would never see you again. He doesn't have that to hold him back anymore — he stares at the screen of his phone that burns his eyes in the darkness, knowing contact with you is a few mere taps away.

But even back then, he wasn’t so stupid as to not realize you interacted with him because he was pitiful and pathetic and obviously troubled and you were the sort of sweet person that went out of your way to be nice to such other children. He was acutely aware of that fact, it irritated him then, it irritates him now. Yet he latched on like a leech anyway, a fact that makes his face feel hot with embarrassment when he recalls how his child self clung to you so strongly, so pathetically. He couldn’t help it. He was so weak, back then.

But here he is, spending hours of his time thinking about you — can he really say he’s less weak to you now?

It’s not as if it’s the first time he had dark thoughts regarding you. Of course, he envied your life back then, but far more than that, he envied you. To have you to himself, as if an object from which he derived happiness that should be just for him. How upset he was when you were kind to people who weren’t him, spent time with others. Even back then, as a child, you have no idea the sort of things he crafted in his head, elaborate fantasies where everyone important to you died off somehow so he could have you all to himself. Fantasies that soothed both his bitterness for you and his desire for you — let you feel pain like he had felt, make sure you couldn’t think yourself better than him, while still ending up something all for him alone to have and enjoy for himself, ensure your kindness was just for him.

Only back then, he had no power to act on such fantasies.

Now…

…

…

...And one night, his resistance finally breaks.

You know what? Maybe he does deserve that. After all the effort he’s put in, after all the things he’s endured, maybe he does deserve to have something all for himself, something he truly wants, something he can secure and know with certainty won’t ever leave his side — you can’t if you don’t have the option.

Maybe you’ll hate him for it. Maybe he’d deserve it if so. But if you do, well, he’ll cross that bridge when he gets to it.

His fingers move without having to really think much about it. Generic, typical lines, just like when he spoke with you. Apologizing for the delay, but surely you understand he’s busy and all, so on and so on. He only pays attention to the very last line, as his fingers slow down in their typing with nerves and anticipation.

>Would you still be up for getting together sometime?

[kaurwreck]

Hello! I adore all your thoughts about Chuuya as the successor to the PM and I agree that the narrative is most likely setting him up for that at some point in the future. I was wondering if you could elaborate more on his role in Cannablism in relation to this because, to me (and it’s very possible i’ve been misinterpreting things or missing something), it reads as an example of why he shouldn’t be the next Boss or why if he was, he wouldn’t be particularly good at it? Despite being the pillar of and completely embodying the PM’s values (which I think makes him a great *Executive*) I’ve never been able to see him in that Boss position for real and it actually going well..? Especially because it feels like, in their specific struggles throughout, Cannibalism ultimately seems to frame Kunikida’s future succession in a more positive light and Chuuya’s in a more negative light (based on how things end up with Kunikida reassured by Ranpo in his role and recovering enough to be present for the final battle, and Chuuya in Poe’s book after being mostly ineffective in his role from the start)?

Thank you for your kind words! But yeah, I think that conclusion is missing some key details and doesn't really reflect on Chuuya's capacity for leadership.

Ranpo targeted and trapped Chuuya because Chuuya was too dangerous otherwise. Not only that, Ranpo trapped himself with Chuuya.

The Agency relies on Ranpo for strategy because it's a small operation that is forced to be clever to survive against greater, better resourced forces— and their cleverest member removed himself from the board, while their next cleverest member was hospitalized. That was a last resort, and one they were only able to execute because Ranpo happens to possess (i) information regarding the one (1) trigger Chuuya has that's capable of rendering him irrational and (ii) access to someone with a skill that's capable of tearing into their primary reality to snatch others into parallel dimensions that, in effect, lobotomize enough of their neurology to render their skills inert.

I have no idea how that suggests Chuuya's inefficacy as a leader. You don't neutralize ineffective leaders, especially not when doing so is that costly.

Both Kunikida and Chuuya expressed immense vulnerability. Neither seemed equipped to succeed their mentors. Kunikida panicked, but threaded himself together well enough until he spiraled to the chords of Fyodor's cello and became paralyzed. He stirred himself only after Ranpo seized leadership to affirmatively direct the others, and even then, Kunikida only acted to drag himself to his friend of over ten years; he wasn't leading anyone. Chuuya panicked, and his nerves were clearly shot, but he nevertheless was coordinating multiple squads of Port Mafia personnel when he was lured into an irrational outburst and then vacuumed out of space-time. He wasn't ineffective from the start; he was rendered ineffective by a clever saboteur, as was Kunikida.

They're also both only 22, and their mentors, two of the most untouchable men in Yokohama, were abruptly incapacitated and had only hours to live. Neglecting their youth, their sudden loss, and the weight of the responsibilities that fell on them neglects, I think, substantial amounts of story. I think they, in parallel, displayed their unreadiness. But if you must compare the two, then it's worth recognizing the difference between coordinating roughly six people compared to the hundreds of Port Mafia, tens of whom Chuuya was shown on-screen to be directing in person and by headset, between multiple locations. But that digresses from the human drama and heart of that arc, which is that Mori and Fukuzawa nearly threw themselves away on each other's desperation despite how badly they and their cooperation were still needed— not just by the city, but by their ragtag families.

Anyway, in other words, no, I don't think anyone's capacity for leadership can or should be measured by how incapacitated they become by an interdimensional trap discretely tailored to contain them for an extended period of time, least of all in comparison to a psychological trap discretely tailored to break the spirit of someone else.

[my-timing-is-digital]

The android bobbed his head in acknowledgement at Julian’s status report; it was fortunate the crash had only inflicted superficial injuries and not critical or fatal ones. However, the absence of despair, trepidation and apprehension was a profound indication that the evacuees had not been as fortunate. Data noticed the deceased pilot ⸺ that was, he could differentiate between the boy’s scorched head and the back of his burgundy red collar. He was capable of distinguishing six human forms among the debris in total, which meant that the rest had been separated from them to meet their inevitable fate: assimilation. Although every fibre of his being implored to track down the evacuees and attempt to bring them to safety, logic reminded him that it was already too late. The only thing they could do at present, was to contact the Enterprise and try to initiate the Borg ship's auto-destruct sequence, or an equally as destructive method to annihilate the cube and save Deep Space Nine...

    He mirrored the Doctor and rose to his full height, recalling the coordinates Captain Picard had issued to obliterate the Borg ship that had attacked the Sol system several months earlier. Although Data was uncertain all Borg cubes were identical ⸺ which he suspected they were ⸺, they could try to locate these coordinates, fashion a makeshift bomb out of salvaged phasers, and detonate it in order to vanquish their adversaries.

    ‘I can assure you, they will not,’ Data replied stoically ⸺ the Doctor’s sarcasm completely eluded him. ‘Doctor, it is imperative we discover a way to contact the Enterprise in order to apprise them of our situation, and inform them that will attempt to destroy the Borg ship from here. We must gain access to one of their consoles to transmit an encrypted message on a low frequency carrier wave so the Borg cannot detect it.’

    He respectfully stepped over the pilot’s corpse and tried to feed his command codes in the yacht’s heavily damaged communication console. Unfortunately, the screen was irresponsive, only a couple of keys were operational, but that would not suffice. Nor could he initiate a distress beacon to notify the Captain that someone had survived the crash.

    ‘I have some experience with the Borg,’ he continued, his attention shifting back to the other Starfleet officer. ‘I had access to their collective hive mind when I tried to sequester Captain Picard from them, and I, myself, have briefly been subjected to their assimilation process, albeit for a different reason; the Borg Queen wanted to make me human instead of Borg. She had hoped it would persuade me to join her, willingly. Her efforts were... futile. Furthermore, during our previous encounter with the Borg, Captain Picard provided us with coordinates that appeared to be a vulnerable spot, a design flaw, if you will, and our collective targeting of this region precipitated the obliteration of the ship. Therefore, I suggest we locate those coordinates, cause an explosion, and thus eradicate the Borg.’

    Data followed Bashir’s gaze, there appeared to be no Borg within their immediate proximity, but it was advisable to maintain a heightened sense of vigilance regardless.

    ‘Julian, if we encounter a Borg drone do not engage the them, for they will only attack us when provoked. Besides, every single one of them is protected by a personal force field that will adapt to our phaser frequencies, leaving us virtually defenseless,’ he advised his friend. ‘A prudent course of action would be to find a console, hack into their ship’s system, ascertain where we are in relation to the coordinates, establish the quickest itinerary to our destination, preferably crawl spaces, and utilise these to reach the ship’s Achilles heel.’

Before the Doctor could properly complete his sentence, a series of unfortunate events rapidly proceeded one after the other, like a chain reaction, and there was nothing the Starfleet officers could do to isolate the malfunctions nor prevent the external forces from internally and externally disintegrating the Captain’s yacht. The android attempted to placate the passengers by distributing consolatory words and advice with regards to their impending obliteration. None of it was heeded, nor appreciated. And after having received several derogatory remarks, he discontinued his attempts altogether.

    He accessed the vessel’s status report, but after one superficial scan, he concluded that a complete systems failure was imminent. However, he wondered, which would transpire first? The ship exploding, or the annihilation of the yacht’s internal systems? Apparently, the former.

    The odour that permeated the atmosphere and infiltrated his olfactory sensors, the humid temperature ⸺ 39.1 degrees Celsius ⸺ that reached inside the severely fractured yacht, and the ominous droning sound his auditory sensors detected were all distinct indications that they had arrived at their final destination… However, despite his adequate observations, he was unable to confirm the visuals; his ocular sensors were momentarily offline.

    When his auditory sensors perceived someone’s movements, Data’s head rotated mechanically to the right, curious as to whom could have survived the crash. When he recognised Julian’s voice he surmised that if his emotion chip had been activated, he would have felt a surge of great relief.

    ‘One moment. I am in the middle of rebooting my systems, which have temporarily shutdown in order to shield my positronic brain. Stand by, please,’ he informed the Doctor, twitching his head in multiple directions as he supplied his systems with the correct command codes. ‘Rebooting… Rebooting… Reboot complete. All systems are operational and functioning within acceptable parameters.     ‘Are you physically sound as well, Doctor?’

[nothorses]

About the thing you posted with the “why do people show emotional vulnerability on tumblr” or whatever, like

Some of us don’t have anyone to talk to irl. Some of us can only discuss certain things on here, and it’s like… maybe a stupid way, but a way to try and show the people who’re hurting you “hey there’s a human behind this screen”. Idk. I know it’s not healthy but… I don’t know what to do. I’d feel like just keeping quiet about it means betraying myself somehow.

Totally! And I think there's a huge difference between "showing vulnerability"- a normal and very healthy thing to do- and what I was talking about, i.e., depending mostly or completely on the validation you may or may not receive when you turn to Whoever Sees Your Blog At The Time for vital emotional support.

The reason I bring this up at all is because I've seen a lot of people do this kind of thing in various ways; I still can't really wrap my head around why so many people want to vent about urgent mental/emotional crises in a public Discord server, for example. Not that it's not understandable, or that people who genuinely don't have anyone else to turn to are doing anything wrong, or, obviously, that everyone in those situations in the first place is doing anything wrong by being in them.

The thing is, it's almost never actually productive or healthy. I would wager that a lot of people going into it know it's not productive or healthy, or at least isn't likely to be. For some of them, that's probably the point.

It's a bunch of random strangers. It's people you don't know, and can't predict the responses of. It's people who don't know you, even if you're honest in how you present yourself to them, because they don't have any kind of mutual relationship or vested interest in you as a friend.

So the possible outcomes, when you do this kind of thing, are:

Someone with a parasocial relationship to you thinks they know you as a person enough to provide the support you need, which maybe feels comforting, but likely is not actually useful in the long term coming from someone you literally don't know. It's hollow, because it isn't backed by a meaningful and mutual relationship.

Someone who feels generally invested in The Health And Safety Of People, As A Whole, sends some generalized validation. Again, this is likely comforting to some degree, but it is ultimately lacking in meaningful and knowledgeable support.

People ignore you, either because they don't see it, they don't know how to respond and are afraid of making things worse, or they don't have the time and energy to provide support to a stranger. You likely feel hurt, alone, and ignored by this.

Someone actively malicious uses your signalling or emotional vulnerability as an opportunity to be more effectively cruel and to cause more pain.

Or, the less common but still damaging outcome:

5. Someone reaches out in a genuine attempt to provide support, establishes a longer-lasting connection. Because this began as one person providing emotional support for another, it likely turns into a one-sided co-dependant relationship in which the two of you only ever talk when you need help in a time of crisis. (This likely burns them out over time, they are forced to cut things off for their own mental health, and you're left feeling even more alone than before.)

Look, I don't want to imply here that there's something wrong with being honest about how you feel, the fact that you're hurting or in crisis, etc. Emotional vulnerability is important! It's also not the same as relying on the responses you get from total strangers when you display that vulnerability. We need better, stronger, more permanent emotional support systems than that in order to survive. That's how people are built.

And there's nothing wrong with being in a position where you feel strangers are the only people you can reach out to at all. I'd still encourage anyone in that place to reach out to strangers over nobody, if it's all they have.

But that's a temporary fix. It's a band-aid. You go into it knowing there are risks, and you work to establish better long-term emotional support systems over time so you don't have to gamble your mental health on the reactions of The Public every time you need help. It's better than nothing, please use it if you don't have better options, but it's still a band-aid.

[gale-gentlepenguin]

ML Fic: Soulmate Survey Part 36

Sorry about the delay. But now its here and its ready for consumption.

Also, Shout to @asongeverlasting for beta reading for me and making sure I actually got this out.

Check her writing out on AO3 as ShamelesslyRomantic,

(Master post)

(Read the fic in a more condensed on Ao3)

_____________________________________________________________

“Finished,” the artist akuma stated as he addressed his master.

Masquerade got up from her throne to look at the room. The classroom had been transformed into a rather spacious throne room. The artist had erased and redrawn walls to ensure the room was much larger. This new space also had several large windows adorned with elegant black and white curtains hanging from the top. Reflekta servants decked out in masquerade themed armor stood at attention on each step leading to her throne. Beautiful artwork of her decorated the walls, including an imposing portrait of her behind her throne that made it look as if she was looking down at everyone looking up at it. To her that came off as self-interested yet tasteful. The masked akuma even loved the addition of a red carpet that led up to her throne.

“This is quite satisfactory, Evillustrator. Just be sure to reinforce the walls of the room then head to the roof and locate Simularé. I want this place to be a fortress,” Masquerade ordered

“Understood,” the akuma nodded, his expression unreadable from the white face mask. He quickly headed to the door out of the room and Stone heart was guarding the door with his large frame and had to let the artist out.

“Gamer! Robostus! Status report!”

“We have made it so we could hack into every screen in Paris that is connected to the internet, as per your request,” the Gamer responded in monotone.

Masquerade smiled at that.

“Excellent. Do we have the cameras ready?”

The Reflekta copies near the robot akuma were being outfitted with recording gear.

“Affirmative, we will be ready to go live at your request.”

The masked akuma smiled at that news, she turned her attention to Princess Fragrance and the original Reflekta, who had just finished turning the last of the captured individuals into obedient copies of her.

“Has everyone in the school been rounded up and handled?”

“Dark Cupid and Reverser are doing a final sweep of any runaway stragglers. Stormy weather is going around flooding and freezing any empty hallways to flush out any that are hiding. There are Reflekta copies guarding the blocked off exits should anyone try and escape. But over 96% of the student body has been accounted for and 99% of all Faculty.” Princess Fragrance answered.

‘The missing ones are likely Marinette and Adrien. Those two never did make anything easy for me, did they? But it didn’t matter, their luck would run out soon enough. Once Ladybug and Chat noir were handled, then I could focus on making them pay,’ Masquerade grinned to herself.

She could picture how it would be, finding them and seeing their desperate faces as they realized that no hero would be able to save them. The first thing she would do was show them both her little empire. They thought she was bad when she had the school wrapped around her finger, they will be mortified when they see Paris. She would have all their friends and family captured, their best friends leading the cruel treatment of the rest. This would have them in tears and begging for mercy.

She did once consider letting Adrien be her boyfriend, with some perfume to sway him. He would have been a perfect boytoy to taunt Marinette with, but Masquerade realized how far above him she was now. She didn’t need him anymore, and truthfully, he was just as bad as Marinette, if not worse. Marinette had the audacity to dislike her and challenge her, but Adrien, he was so condescending, acting like she should be better than her actions. She could swear she saw pity in his eyes, and that was so much worse.

Though she wasn’t completely heartless, if they begged to be her personal servants and apologized for standing against her, then maybe she would let them have some mercy. Having Marinette clean up after her and make those admittedly delicious baked goods would be nice and having Adrien wait on her hand and foot like a personal butler would be quite fun. Maybe they would think if they did a good enough job their families would suffer less.

She did want to daydream about that idea more but she knew that she needed to focus on the present.

“Alright, Let’s start moving to stage 2. Gamer! I want a comprehensive list of every akuma victim outside of the school. Robostus! Make sure the cameras and broadcast are ready when I tell you. I want everything to go off without a hitch.”

“Affirmative!” Gamer and Robostus responded in equal robotic unison.

“Reflekta! Princess Fragrance! After all of the copies pick up the stragglers, I want you scanning the area for Ladybug and Chat noir. Bubbler and Lady Wifi… wait. I think I remember something.”

She paused to check her charm, she noticed the question mark charm and touched it, allowing her to focus and see what akuma it was.

“Cancel that order, remain on standby unless we get approached.”

“Yes… so this is what that voice meant by merging. How very interesting. I think I will let that new akuma keep its directive. Ladybug and Chat noir will have no chance of beating...”

An akuma merged with Lady Wifi, Bubbler and Oblivio. Combined to make something new. Something that she knew even the heroes would have trouble fighting.

“Deadzone.” Masquerade said with a devilish grin.

______________________________________________________________________________

Ladybug and Chat Noir made their way down the hall. They easily dealt with a few Reflekta clones without much effort and continued moving.

They were expecting to see more akuma lurking about, but strangely, the halls they were walking down were all either empty or only covered by Reflekta duplicates.

“Masquerade likely has her stronger forces consolidating after bringing in as many people to her as they could. Those that didn’t hit the mark likely got turned into the copies we bumped into.” Ladybug answered.

“That does explain why they were singing, like when Princess Fragrance made servants,” the cat hero added.

“This might be our only time to catch a break before confronting her.”

“So, since we have time, do you mind if I ask if you're free to go on Patrol tonight?” the cat hero casually inquired.

Ladybug stopped.

“Tonight? That is quite sudden. Plus, we still don’t know how this will play out.” Ladybug gestured to the school.

“Well I am going to assume we stop the akuma and save the day like always.” Chat noir commented. “Call it a safe bet, but we usually win.”

“Always the positive outlook, Chaton. I’m glad you have so much faith in us despite our numbers disadvantage.”

“You said it yourself, most of the servants are pushovers or just puppets. The only real threat is Lila. And we have faced worse."

“True, but not anything this sinister,” Ladybug tacked on.

“Didn’t we fight Hawkmoth a couple of months back?” Chat noir asked with a twinge of confusion. Was Ladybug implying what he thought she was?

Ladybug held her tongue.

“You’re kidding right? You think Lila is eviler than Hawkmoth!” Chat Noir exclaimed in shock.

“No no no! Not eviler … just a bit cleverer than him,” Ladybug confessed.

Chat noir looked at his partner skeptically, but then considered her words.

“She is manipulative. Considering even without being akumatized she has done some rather twisted stuff. But thinking she is evil is a bit much. Especially when there is someone responsible for forcing emotionally vulnerable people to do his bidding,” Chat noir pointed out.

“Isn’t that what she is doing right now?”

“Yes, but she was akumatized. If we started blaming people for their actions as akuma we would have to throw innocent people in jail.”

“Right… but you read that article on the Ladyblog right? She could be more than just a victim of Hawkmoth, she could be an ally.”

The Cat hero thought about it more but was still not entirely convinced.

“I guess underestimating her would be dumb, but maybe she isn’t completely evil. I mean Chloé ended up showing a bit of humanity and did some good, maybe Lila is capable of it too.”

The crimson clad heroine smiled a bit.

“That’s what I like about you, Chat, you always focus on the good in others.”

The black clad hero gave a Cheshire grin.

“When it comes to the team, you’re the brains, and I’m the sidekick who brings the smiles and the heartfelt speeches.”

“You aren’t my sidekick, Chat Noir, we are partners. And you could be the brains too, if you would use yours outside of pun making.” Ladybug playfully bonked his noggin.

The cat chuckled at the playful teasing.

“Fair enough, but I can’t help it if I FELINE making a quip.”

Ladybug could feel herself groan at the lame joke.

“I take it back… you are the sidekick,” Ladybug deadpanned, her tone of mock annoyance causing the cat to chuckle.

“Alright I’ll…” He stopped speaking as he noticed something was amiss.

Chat Noir’s left ear twitched. He heard approaching footsteps.

“We better get moving, this abandoned hallway isn’t going to be so abandoned in a minute.”

“More Reflekta clones?”

Chat Noir extended the staff to the ground, his face showing a sudden sternness.

“No… Winter is coming.”

______________________________________________________________________________

Viperion peered through the door of the locker room.

“Clear.”

The snake and dragon heroes entered with their akuma prisoner.

“Pick a locker and let’s toss her in,” Ryuuko commented as she held the squirming akuma.

The two paused their movement when they heard a rustling in the lockers.

“Do you hear that?” Viperion questioned.

“How could I not?” Ryuuko replied.

Just as the two stared at the rustling lockers. The two shaking lockers doors flew off their hinges.

And stepped out an akuma that neither hero recognized.

“I don’t remember seeing that akuma before,” Ryuuko stated.

“Neither do I, but it seems vaguely familiar,”  Viperion responded.

As the Akuma was gathering its bearings, the heroes tried to gauge its powers. It had broad shoulders that had spherical, dark purple balls around them, which were connected to tight black sleeves with 3 white circular stripes at the end that ended at his wrists. Its left hand had a fingerless black glove which showed its skin akin to a purple silhouette. The other hand was what appeared to be a black laser canon with a phone attached to it. On its back was a large red, purple and black pipe which seemed to act as a holster to a blue bubble wand.  Its face was obscured by a large white theater mask much like all the other akuma. But there was the impression that it had distinct features. Its chest had a rounded purple bubble on the top half of its body akin to round armor and it had a logo that appeared to be a WiFi signal within an eye in a cage. The lower half appeared more akin to a skintight jumpsuit that was black with white stripes at the feet.

The akuma turned its attention to the two heroes.

“So umm… what are you doing in the locker room?”

“Merge complete, Deadzone is active. Mission objective, Capture Ladybug and Chat Noir,” The akuma answered in a robotic tone less as a response to the question and more as a statement, their voice sounded like the mix of two people.

“Well, Deadzone, we can’t let you do that!”  Ryuuko exclaimed as she glared at the akuma.

The akuma pointed its blaster at her.

“Your opinion on that really doesn’t have an impact on us.”

Deadzone’s left hand touched the phone on their blaster, and a purple bubble with a pause insignia shot out. Ryuuko and Viperion both jumped back as the bubble had direct contact with their akuma prisoner, causing her to be motionless as the bubble turned green and floated to the roof of the room.

“Okay, so don’t touch the bubbles,” Viperion noted.

“Positive side, we don’t need to worry about that one akuma,” Ryuuko commented.

Viperion and Ryuuko knew this akuma would be trouble if it got to Ladybug and Chat noir. They were going to need to find a way to stop it.

______________________________________________________________________

Fu had been observing the spoiled Mayor’s daughter after her confrontation with the Reflekta replicas. Using it as a means to help him find Ladybug and Chat Noir. He was aware that this girl had a knack for getting into trouble and making akuma target her, so it would not be too far off to assume she would be useful in locating his chosen. He would have called her, but communication was down, so he would need to adapt. But now he had a rather interesting quandary.

“Should I lend her the miraculous or not?” Fu spoke quietly as he pondered.

It was a tougher question he had initially thought. If he was asked if she was worthy of being a miraculous user, the answer would undoubtedly be negative. She was clearly a spoiled brat who saw herself above others. But after the events when the bee miraculous temporarily fell into her hands, he had started observing her. He did this with all of the chosen ones that Marinette had picked. Not because he didn’t trust his student, but more out of curiosity of why Marinette picked these individuals.

With the one she picked for the fox miraculous, Fu could see that the girl valued justice, but was cunning and saw the importance of distinguishing truth from illusion, an ideal pick for the fox miraculous. As for the Turtle miraculous wielder, Wayzz spoke highly of Nino, which really made him curious about the young lad. That boy showed a willingness to protect those close to him even if it meant getting hurt, and the calm to be ready to wait and roll with things. The miraculous of protection required someone that can keep a cool head and be ready to defend at the drop of a hat.

The other temporary heroes matched pretty well with the traits of the Kwami and were all good people deep down. Fu had no doubts that Marinette had the instincts of a guardian. The only one that brought doubt was Chloé. After the incident where she found the miraculous and got akumatized, Chloé was trusted with the bee miraculous 3 times. And her record had been mixed but overall she was decent when she fell in line and worked with Ladybug and Chat Noir.

Marinette mentioned that she didn’t want to trust Chloé with the miraculous after the last time. But has admitted to Fu that if needed she was a decent Bee heroine.

But if he was wrong and she decided to use this chance to stay being a miraculous wielder, he would have to deal with her as a rogue. Though, considering the circumstances, that would honestly not be the worst situation, as her identity was public and Ladybug and Chat Noir would deal with her like before.

“Wayzz, what do you think?”

His kwami companion popped out of his shirt pocket.

“This is quite a dilemma, Master. The situation is dire, but putting the miraculous in the wrong hands would also make things worse. Perhaps Pollen would be able to give better insight.”

“Very true, my friend.” Fu patted the kwami.

Fu cautiously went into the cleaning cart and pulled out the Bee Miraculous. The bee kwami popped out.

“Good morning, Master,” Pollen greeted the guardian with respect.

“Good afternoon, Pollen. We have a situation and I would like to know your opinion.”

“Very well, I am happy to serve,” The bee kwami replied.

“What do you think of Chloé Bourgeois? The one that used your miraculous recently.”

The kwami put her little hand to her face as she compiled her thoughts.

“She is complicated, Master. She didn’t talk to me much but I kind of got to feel a lot about who she was as a person. She is brash, she is confident, yet she is insecure. She is blunt, stubborn, and set in her ways. But I can tell that she is at a crossroads in her life. There is some small part of her that wants to be good and do good for others outside of herself, but her upbringing has made such a mindset seem like weakness, and she is scared of letting herself be vulnerable. Ladybug has been a good influence on her, but she is still immature in several aspects. She has the potential to be a good queen. If she could break through that self-imposed selfish mentality, she could be something extraordinary,” Pollen explained, finally.

“I see, well that is quite informative. Thank you,” Fu responded, nodding thoughtfully.

He put the Bee Miraculous back in a tiny box, causing her to go dormant.

“So, she is at a crossroad.”  Fu repeated as he stroked his chin

He turned his attention back to Chloé, who had continued walking towards another dead end. When he caught the eye of approaching Reflekta clones. And with that, Fu figured out a way to know.

“I think I just found a way to know the correct answer.”

______________________________________________________________________

“I swear this place is a maze.” Mayura grumbled to herself as she walked the halls.

She noticed her fan shake, notifying her of someone calling. It was Hawkmoth

“Yes?”

“Mayura what are you doing?! You were supposed to find the target and get out!” Hawkmoth exclaimed angrily. “And why did you transform? You knowutilizing the Peacock Miraculous is dangerous.”

Though she wouldn’t admit it, she was somewhat touched by the concern in his voice. Unfortunately, she did not have time to dwell on that so she was going to ignore it, as she had a task at hand

“Some unforeseen circumstances have caused some rather unfortunate delays. I am going to locate the sentimonster and gather information regarding the target. Afterwards, I will assist in getting Ladybug and Chat Noir’s Miraculous.” Mayura responded.

As she was speaking, an akuma with black wings flew into view along with an akuma riding a paper airplane.

“Seems the akuma servants have located me.”

She notices the akuma began preparing to attack her. They were practically mindless puppets that saw anyone who wasn’t their master as an enemy. This was quite an oversight, but it fit with the motif of the akuma villain. She felt the emotions of that girl, she knew exactly the type of insecurities Lila held. Thankfully for her, it meant they could easily be exploited.

“Get out of there this instant it is too dangerous. You are in no shape to…”

The akumas aimed at the unidentified villainess and fired off paper airplanes and arrows.

“We will discuss this later.” Mayura hung up before turning her attention to the two servants of Masquerade.

Mayura dashed through the hall, expertly avoiding projectiles and blocking with her fan those she couldn’t dodge. She jumped onto Reverser’s glider, grabbed the akuma and threw him at the flying Dark Cupid, leaving the two dazed and tangled together.

“I’m weakened, not helpless,” Mayura commented as she dusted herself off and hopped off the floating paper airplane.

She noticed that the two akuma that attacked her were slow in getting up.

‘Seems the akuma created by Masquerade aren’t just mindless, they are also rather slow in reacting. Ladybug and Chat Noir can exploit that. I suppose with the number of servants she made, this was to be expected. I should locate Simularé and get some details on our akuma’s little plan. I should step in and seize control if she gets too distracted like the last one. Gabriel has always been far too cautious when it comes to his plans, it’s time we were more active.’ Mayura mentally concluded.

She closed her eyes and focused on locating the sentimonster.

“She is on the roof. Odd placement for her most powerful ally, but I suppose there must be some sort of logical reason for what she is planning,” Mayura rationalized.

The peacock themed villainess noticed that the akuma that attacked her were starting to move again, and she decided to pick up her pace a bit.

______________________________________________________________________________

“This is super ridiculous! Utterly ridiculous!” she exclaimed with anger. “Not a single exit in this place! Why is every exit coated in icky slime?”

She checked her phone.

“And still no signal.”

She ended up chucking her phone out of frustration.

“I wish Ladybug would just get here and beat the akuma, or better yet, come here and give me the bee miraculous so I can help kick butt,” she grumbled as she went to go see where she threw her phone. She'd remembered she actually liked the case she just bought for it and losing that would be a waste.

“H-help me please!” The wails of a person in danger caught Chloé’s attention.

“That sounds like a non-me issue,” the blonde told herself. As she continued walking to her phone.

“If only there was someone here to save me!” the voice called out again.

Chloé stopped moving for a moment.

“Well I am not a hero without the Bee, so I guess he better hope Ladybug and Chat Noir are nearby, or maybe those other two costumed nobodies that I saw earlier,” she said, clearly trying to convince herself not to do anything.

“Please! Ladybug! Chat Noir…. “

"The heroes will handle it." Chloé reasoned with herself as she picked up her phone. Now getting ready to go somewhere else and likely away from the screaming.

“ And a…Queen Bee.”

Chloé’s eyes went wide. Did someone call out for… Queen Bee?!

Chloé started dashing down the halls to the sound of the voice.

“Did someone call for a hero!” Chloé called out, looking confident.

She arrived to see an old man in an ugly Hawaiian shirt being cornered by 3 Reflekta copies. The akuma copies turn to Chloé.

“Surrender,” they sing-songed as they began to approach.

Chloé ran right at them, and proceeded to push them into each other, and let the impractical heels make it hard for them to get back up.

She rushed to the old man.

“Don’t worry, old man with good taste in heroes and nothing else. I, Queen Bee, am here to save you,” Chloé blustered.

“Thank you.” Fu said with a forced smile. She clearly only came when he mentioned her name. But she did show up. In hindsight, maybe his test was not as conclusive as he thought. But then again, he actually planned those out more.

Chloé looked around.

“Alright old man, normally I would have just left you to get saved by Ladybug, but you have good taste in heroes, so I am going to help you out. We need to move before those creepy akumas get back up. So follow me, I know a place you can hide out.” Her tone tried to come off as abrasive, but it did show an inkling of care.

Chloé began moving away from the cluster of Reflektas. The old man shrugged and followed behind. He supposed that this would be another good test for her. Maybe he will get a more definitive answer by keeping an eye on her. And if worse comes to worse, he had a feeling she would make a good distraction should he need to escape a band of akuma.

______________________________________________________________________

“Did you just make a...”

Ladybug was able to pick up on the sound of harsh wind heading their way and decided her scolding of lame references could wait for later. She grabbed her partner's arm and pulled him into the nearby science lab.

She quickly closed the door just as a cold front blasted right past them. The window on the door was covered in ice.

“Stormy Weather?”

“Stormy Weather.”

The two both look at each other with a bit of worry. The storm akuma was one of their more powerful foes, and with complete control of the weather in such a tight space, things were going to get tough.

“Any ideas?”

Ladybug weighed her options. Would now be the time to use her lucky charm? or should she save it for when they are in front of Masquerade? It was starting to get harder to make that call.

“We can’t have her roaming the halls, we will need to incapacitate her. So I say have your ice power up ready, and be ready to swap power ups at the drop of a hat. Stormy Weather may be tough, but we still have tricks up our sleeve.”

Chat Noir nodded.

“Sounds like a plan.”

Ladybug and Chat Noir both popped their Ice blue power ups and shift into their Ice forms. The two watched as the other’s suit gained ice skates, ice crystal and snowflake accents, becoming Ladyice and Icecat.

(AN: Yes, according to the Wiki, that’s what they are calling them. Personally, I would have called them Ladyfrost and Cold noir/ Cool Cat but that’s just me. This isn’t relevant to the story, I just wanted you all to know that.)

“You know, Ladybug, you really give off the ice skater vibe. Would you say you have experience ice skating outside of this form?” Chat Noir asked.

Ladybug felt her mind flash to her date with Adrien and her cheeks turned red.

“I- I may have some experience. And how about you, Kitty?” she deflected.

“Well, now that you mention it, I…”

They heard a loud bang on the door, cracking the ice that covered the window to reveal the white theater mask that Stormy Weather had covering her face.

“I’m gonna give it to her, she really knows how to break the Ice,” Chat Noir joked.

“Chaton, cool it with all of the ice puns,” she stated.

“Wait, was that a pun? My Lady I... OH SHI…”

A large ice stalactite burst through the door interrupting their banter and almost skewering them.

Chat Noir was about to say something when Ladybug cut in.

“Chat Noir, you are my partner and I respect you greatly. But so help me, if you say we should put this conversation on ‘Freeze’, I will not save you if you get impaled.” Ladybug stated.

Chat Noir paused.

“You know me so well,” he said with a smile.

The two watched as Stormy Weather entered the room through the stalactite hole.

______________________________________________________________________

“Hey Viperion?”

“Yea Ryuuko?”

“We both agree that we need to stop that crazy akuma right?”

“That is correct.”

“Then why are you carrying me away from it!?” Ryuuko exclaimed.

Viperion had picked up the dragon heroine fireman style in order to pull her away from the pursuing akuma.

“Do you want the reasons in alphabetical order?” the snake hero sassed.

“We can take it,” Ryuuko asserted. “We can’t retreat! There is no honor in it!”

“Well considering neither of our weapons can touch them, the concept of honor has flown out the window. Not to mention, I seriously doubt that we can take them on without a plan, and don’t say ‘try to hit them harder’ is a plan. It isn’t.”

Viperion had a smug look as he noticed Ryuuko look away.

“You’re right, but I'm mad about it,” the dragon heroine huffed.

“I can live with that.”

Viperion took a sharp left and noticed a dozen Reflekta duplicates.

“Juleka?”

“Come with us,” the clones sang.

“I’m going to assume they aren’t her,” Ryuuko said as she got off Viperion’s shoulders.

She punched his arm.

“Ow.”

“Your shoulder was bumpy.”

Ryuuko drew her weapon and dashed past the group of Reflekta clones. After a second, she holstered her weapon and all of the clones dropped to the floor groaning.

“Wow.” Viperion was impressed. He had to admit that it was super cool.

“Don’t worry, I used the flat end of the sword. They will be fine, and hopefully they will slow down the akuma.”

The two continued running, but glanced back as Deadzone arrived. He looked at the clones getting up and blasted each one into a green bubble in which they remained motionless and floated to the ceiling of the hall.

“It can’t distinguish between friend or foe,” Viperion commented.

“What?”

Viperion turned to his comrade.

“I think I just got an idea.”

__________________________________________________________________________

“This way,” the bossy blond teen motioned.

Fu pushed his janitor cart as they moved in the hallway.

“Do you really need to move that hideous thing with us?” Chloé questioned with clear aggravation.

“It's very important,” Fu responded.

“Ugh, whatever. Just move faster, then.”

Fu nodded and picked up the pace.

The mayor’s daughter led them down the hall and they had managed to avoid attracting attention.

“Okay, we are here.”

Fu looked at the door and realized that it was the nurse’s office.

“Hopefully the nurse didn’t get herself captured while I was gone.”

Chloé went to open the door and noticed it was locked.

“What the…”

“Let me try.” Fu interjected.

“Fine, just hurry up.”

He pulls out a jingling set of keys. Chloé shrugged as she turned around to keep watch.

Fu let his kwami companion out to open the door. Wayzz quickly undid the lock and opened the door before sliding back out of view.

“All done,” Fu said.

Chloé turned around as Fu opened the door.

The two quickly ran inside and locked the door behind them.

“Nurse Arugula!” Chloé called out. “I have a guest for you!”

“Arugala?”

“It was something with an A.” Chloé commented.

The two waited a few seconds, but there was no response.

They moved deeper into the office.

“Are you here?” Chloé questioned.

They flicked on the light switch to see the nurse in the cot.

“Oh, that’s great, I leave to go get help and be a hero and she goes off napping!” Chloé fumed.

Fu moved to the nurse and noticed she had a bruise on her neck, indicating that she was clearly forced into this state. He jabbed a pressure point and the nurse jolted awake.

“HUAGH!”

She nearly fell out of the cot.

“Glad you can join us from your nap,” Chloé hissed.

“Chloé? Did you call for help?” The nurse inquired as she gathered her bearings.

“No, the school is a total dead zone, and I couldn’t find a way out because they are all blocked by slime. Side note, I found this old guy.”

The nurse turned to the old man.

“Hello. I’m Angela.” She politely introduced herself.

“Nice to meet you. I am… Fung,” Fu lied. He couldn’t be too careful.

“Nice to meet you Fung, despite the circumstances,” she tried to make light of the situation.

“Every meeting can have a positive circumstance if one is looking for it.”

The calm in the air died when Angela realized that someone was missing.

“Oh no! The women you left in my care! She knocked me out and stormed out of here.” Angela exclaimed.

“Welp, she is probably captured,” Chloé shrugged.

“We have to find her, she has some sort of strange illness. Leaving her out there might be dangerous, akuma or not.”

Angela prepared to move to the door but was stopped by Chloé.

“Oh no you don’t! I brought this old man here for safety. You stay here with him.”

“But my patient!”

The woman was clearly shaking, but she was determined, she wanted to help her patient even if it meant going into danger. But much to Fu’s surprise, Chloé stepped up.

“I will bring your patient back. Mostly because being stuck in here seems much worse than dealing with a bunch of dumb akuma.”

Angela hugged Chloé.

“Thank you.”

Chloé tried to look annoyed, but a ghost of a smile appeared on the mayor’s daughter’s face. She accepted the hug for a moment.

Fu took notice. He had made his decision.

“Alright, enough touching! You deal with sick people all day. I don’t want germs,” Chloé stated as she tried to give off her usual air.

“That is very brave of you, young one.” Fu spoke.

“Pff, this is nothing. It’s what heroes do.”

As Chloé began making her way out of the nurse’s office, Fu quietly slipped the tiny miracle box into her bag.

‘I hope this was worth the risk.’

_____________________________________________________________

(END OF CHAPTER)

Well things are really heating up.

Will Ladyice and Icenoir be able to deal with stormy weather? Will Deadzone be the dead end for Ryuuko and Viperion? What is Masquerade's villainous plan? Will I update faster than every 40 or so days?

Let me know your thoughts and if you did enjoy the story.

REBLOG it and comment. Likes are nice but they don't really help content creators like they should.

[aspoonofsugar]

The “One” Divided Into “Two”

Hello anons, hello friend,

these asks can be answered together!

First of all:

Hello! I just want to say that I love your RWBY metas! So I'm wondering, have you ever done metas about Emerald and Mercury?

Thank you! And yes, I have written a little bit about Mercury and Emerald here. I would also recommend this wonderful meta by @hamliet because it has an interesting Mercury theory in it.

Now. this answer is gonna mix some analysis with speculation because Emerald and Mercury’s story must still enter its climax. Once it does and we are given a specific interpretative key I will be happy to write more metas on them!

I’ll start with this:

Those two are so out of place in Salem's faction and the last look they share made me doubt that Mercury is rotten to the core and more of a kid who didnt know what he's in for. Since Em has switched sides, is it possible that Merc might follow? I really like him, so I'm hoping that he won't go down like Watts.

In my opinion, yes and here is why.

CHILDREN LOST IN A NARRATIVE

1) Emerald and Mercury have been child-coded since their first appearance:

Roman: Oh, look! She sent the kids again! This is turning out just like the divorce!

2) Both have received a save the cat moment early on:

Emerald: It's almost sad.

Mercury: Emerald, get up, we need to go. (...) Emerald!

Both child-coding and save the cat moments are often used to make characters more sympathetic and this applies to both Emerald and Mercury, even more so than Cinder.

This is why, for example, the major death they are directly involved in:

turns out to be a temporary one.

As a side note, I like thinking of Emerald and Mercury as the Cat and the Fox in Penny’s story since they act as false friends to the main cast, betray them and cause Penny’s first death. Moreover, in the novel, both characters end up suffering consequences for their life-styles. The two murder kids are the same:

At the same time, details about Emerald and Mercury’s backgrounds and motivations are given to the viewers pretty early on:

We are shown Cinder recruiting both and these scenes clearly paint them as two vulnerable kids that get manipulated and groomed:

Raven: Two children you’ve tricked into following you.

Emerald is presented as a scaredy cat and Cinder wins her over by promising the bare minumum aka some security and basic care.

Mercury is given even less aka a narrative to keep himself together:

Cinder: And you're his son. We saw your fight from the treeline. He's taught you well.

Mercury: Guess so.

Cinder: What's your name?

Mercury: Mercury.

Cinder: Mercury... Tell me, are you anything like your father?

Mercury: All my life, my father trained me to be a killer, an assassin like him. And then moments after I killed him, you two showed up looking for someone with my exact skills. Just felt like it was meant to be.

Cinder praises his abilities and frames his trauma as something that makes him strong, not broken. And Mercury has completely embraced this narrative since then.

In short, Emerald and Mercury are framed as two kids lost in an illusory narrative Cinder has crafted. That said, they are also characters in a proper narrative and they are given sympathetic backgrounds and positive qualities that hint they can be better than they currently are.

In particular, Emerald should overcome her emotional dependence on others to make the right thing:

In both volume 3 and volume 8 she is shown the destruction of a city. However, the first time she puts distance between herself and others’ pain, as symbolically conveyed by her looking from above. In volume 8, though, she is shown the same pain up close and she can’t ignore it anymore. This is why the others drag Emerald towards the people crying and light invades the screen when she finally meets the sheltered crew. She is forced to face an uncomfortable truth she wants to ignore.

Mercury should instead let himself depend on others more. He should open up to others and fight for his one positive bond:

Mercury: Back off, freak.

Which leads us to:

What do you like most about Emerald and Mercury's relationship and bond as it is explored in RWBY?

EMERCURY: COMPLEMENTARITY

Emerald and Mercury’s bond being a key one is conveyed both symbolically and in terms of their respective abilities.

When it comes to their abilities, I have written about it in the meta linked above:

In short, Emerald mostly relies on her semblance, while Mercury mostly relies on his legs and fighting prowess.

This detail adds to the idea that Emerald and Mercury have been acting as a unit and have been complementing each other. Emerald acts as the “soul” and Mercury as the “body”.

The soul is one’s personal essence (like the semblance). It is where (once again) wishes reside. The body is what protects the soul and is animated by instincts and self-survival.

They complement each other. This complementarity is shown in Emerald and Mercury’s fights.

In the Vytal festival, Mercury takes on both Coco and Yatsuhashi for a short while, so that Emerald can size her chance to fight Coco at her own terms (and she wins by using her semblance).

In the Battle of Heaven, Emerald uses her semblance to help Mercury fight and, in a sense, she compensates for his lack of one:

The human soul is about wishes, but also duties:

Penny: I feel like I wish I could do both the things I need to do and the things I want to do. Is that normal?

One must accept their feelings, but also struggle with them:

Winter: But yes Penny, we must still acknowledge our personal feelings, wrestle with them. It ensures us that we’re on the right path. It’s what makes us human.

And must do the right thing out of their own free will:

Winter: Penny. The general is making hard choices so we don’t have to.

This is Emerald’s personal struggle. She must let go of her feelings for Cinder and fight her own fear in order to do the right thing.

The human body lets people feel both others’ warmth:

And others’ cruelty:

However, Mercury refuses to feel both. He refuses to truly process his own trauma and pushes his feelings of care for Emerald away:

As far as their symbolism goes, they are linked in at least three different ways.

1) One of the attributes of the Roman god Mercury is that he is the protector of thieves and Emerald’s surname capitalized means thief. What is more:

Mercury: Ooh, Emerald! Master thief! Please don't take my money! I barely have enough to get by!

2) Mercury/Hermes is also the god of alchemy and the one who wrote the Emerald Tablet aka a tablet with the truth of alchemy on it. You, @hamliet​, have written a meta on it, so I won’t add more.

3) According to at least some traditions, emerald is the gemstone associated with the planet Mercury.

So, it is clear the two characters are meant to be important in each other’s arcs.

Let’s now look at Emerald and Mercury’s bond, as it is explored through their interactions.

Mercury clearly cares about Emerald and gets along well with her. She is the only person he shows vulnerability to.

This is what their scene in Lost is about:

Emerald: Why did you come with us, the night Cinder and I found you?

Mercury: Why are you asking--

Emerald: Just answer the question.

Emerald is trying to open herself up and wants Mercury to open up too. This is why she gets annoyed when Mercury gives her a superficial answer. Still, in that conversation, Mercury is genuinelly trying to answer Emerald’s feelings:

Mercury: I'm sorry you didn't have a mommy that loved you, but I had a father who hated me! He never went easy on me! Every day of training was a beating. And when I unlocked my Semblance, he stole it with his! "This is a crutch!" "This makes you weak!" He told me I could have it back when I was strong. So I got strong, but I never got it back! I've had to work harder than anyone to get where I am. You may not like it here without Cinder, but I think I'm right where I'm supposed to be!

Here, Mercury is telling Emerald details of his past he would not be sharing if he did not trust her. He can’t let himself be completely vulnerable, though, so he discloses them by lashing out at Emerald. He mixes violence with authentic vulnerability and also with care:

Mercury: Cinder doesn't care about you! She doesn't care about either of us!

He has seen how self-destructive Emerald can get when it comes to Cinder:

And he is trying to have Emerald move on from her obsession.

However, Mercury’s small steps towards opening up and caring for another person are constantly challenged:

Tyrian: Oh yes, the world is mean, and I'm a big, bad man now just like the others.

Mercury: How long have you been standing there?!

The moment he opens up to Emerald, Tyrian appears to threathen and mock him.

Mercury’s positive development lies in accepting his own feelings of pain and in sharing them with others, so that he can be helped. However, the environment he is in goes in the way of it:

Emerald: Mercury, I wanted to...

Here, Emerald is trying to either apologize to Mercury for their fight or to at least check out on him. Still, Mercury is not listening to her because he is too frightened by what Salem is doing.

Mercury’s current struggle is conveyed in a nutshell by the glance he gives to his left in Midnight:

Is he looking at Emerald out of concern?

Or at Salem out of caution?

It is not clear. Still, what is sure is that Mercury should focus on Emerald, but Salem goes in the way. He deep down wants to care about others, but he is too scared to do so:

Tyrian: All you ever learned was pain and violence, and now you're too afraid to leave it. Such a tragedy.

At the same time, Mercury is for Emerald what she has been looking for in Cinder:

Emerald: We don't need him! Everything was going fine!

She initially refuses him, but it is clear that with time Mercury becomes the thing most similar to a family Emerald has:

She has been so fixated on Cinder and on how she can be worthy of Cinder’s love that she has missed how much Mercury has tried to protect her all along.

This is why Hazel is important for Emerald’s development:

Hazel: No more Gretchens, boy.

His sacrifice is about breaking his personal cycle of pain. His story starts with Gretchen dying when she was only a girl and it ends with him preventing another girl’s death. At the same time, he also helps breaking the cyle of abuse between Emerald and Cinder.

Emerald is told the truth about her relationship with Cinder by Mercury. Moreover, it seems something finally clicks for her here:

She observes Salem’s manipulation of Cinder and understands Cinder has been manipulating her in the same way.

However, it is thanks to Hazel’s sacrifice that Emerald sees what a genuine parental bond should be like. It should be about the parent protecting the child:

Hazel: What Gretchen would have done. And that starts with getting you away from here. Both of you.

And not the child protecting the parent:

Emerald: I know I can’t beat you. But I can fill that thing full of holes before you take me down.

It should be about the parent caring for the child unconditionally:

Hazel: Go.

And not about the child working hard to gain a parent’s love:

Cinder: You… You brought me back here. We failed.

Emerald: Cinder, you were hurt. I was just trying to help.

At the same time, Hazel’s death has taught Emerald the pain of losing a loved one:

And has forced Emerald to stand on her own two legs:

Oscar: I've seen what you can do, Emerald. However this fight ends, we could really use someone like you.

She can’t be protected forever, but she should start protecting others. She is powerful enough to do so and she must accept this responsibility.

So

I think Emerald could be key to Mercury's redemption

I think so too. Emerald saving Mercury is the perfect objective for her personal arc. It forces her to act as the savior instead of the one being saved.

Moreover, Mercury told her the truth about herself:

Mercury: You're in denial.

So Emerald might do the same for Mercury. This would also fit with her being the Emerald Tablet. The Tablet is written by Mercury to convey the truth to the world. Here, it might very well be the inverse: the Emerald Tablet might convey the truth to Mercury.

In general, Mercury and Tyrian’s foiling has to pay off, just like Emerald and Hazel’s:

The set-up is there for Tyrian and Mercury’s subplot to be about breaking cycles as well. Mercury’s story is about a child left alone with his abuser. Nobody comes to save him, so Mercury is forced to save himself by killing Marcus. Still, this only leads to him being stuck in the idea he is nothing, but an extension of his father. Right now, the cycle is repeating, but it is possible this time things will go differently because there is at least one person who cares about him.

Not only that, but (and this is nothing, but a baseless theory) even Qrow (aka a character who has unfinished business with Tyrian) might be a thematic fit to help Mercury:

Mercury: Bad hair, used a scythe, and smelled like my dad after a long day. It was him.

After all, Mercury himself draws a comparison between Qrow and his father since they are both alcoholic. However, Qrow has started a journey of rehabilitation for the sake of his nieces and their friends.

Qrow sees himself as bad for others and fundamentally unlucky because of his background and his semblance. So, his third fight with Tyrian being about saving a kid, who, in a sense, is even less lucky than him and has no semblance might be thematically fitting.

Despite it all, Qrow found a family and a place to belong and he might help Mercury find his (Emerald) as well.

SEMBLANCE OF THE SELF

Got no gun But I gleam like a blade and I'm harder than iron

Delusion I'll steal til your blind and defeat you from inside your mind

Emerald’s best weapon is her semblance, while Mercury’s semblance was stolen, so he could become a weapon.

This difference symbolizes their respective reactions to abuse.

Emerald uses her illusions as a coping mechanism.

This mechanism is well conveyed in CEM’s fight against Amber:

On one hand, Emerald creates a child version of herself who is well dressed and owns a bike. It is a rich version of Emerald because she must think that is the kind of child others would stop by to help. She does not believe she is likable or lovable. This is why she makes an illusory alter-ego, which is both true (she deep down is a crying child) and false (she is a street rat with nothing).

In general, this is Emerald’s way to approach others:

Emerald: Just left the stadium after your amazing fight! You guys were awesome!

Ren: Because she's scared. Just like us..

Emerald: Or maybe because I know how to get out of here. Anybody coming?

She either fakes an overly friendly demeanor or acts tougher than she is. In any case, she hides her true self.

On the other hand, Emerald is symbolically trapping herself in an illusion together with Amber. Amber can’t see the dangerous thief in front of her, but Emerald too can’t see the generous woman who is offering food to a crying child:

Cinder: Follow me, and you’ll never be hungry again.

Cinder promises Emerald food and love and this lie makes the girl unable  to see the genuine article when it is right there.

So Emerald tricks both others and herself. This is how she survives abuse.

This is why she keeps believing in Cinder while she is gone:

Emerald: You’re here! I knew you’d co--

And this is why symbolically her semblance grows stronger in an abusive environment:

Emerald: I’ve been working on my Semblance. I can help. I won’t tell anybody.

Salem: You really have been honing that Semblance of yours.

After all, this is when Emerald gets a “power-up”:

She has just lost Cinder and finds herself stuck with Salem. Her reaction is to have a breakdown and to project an illusion in the minds of nine people, when she had previously stated she could only do one/two minds at most.

Mercury weaponizes his trauma.

This is why his legs are Mercury’s true weapon, while Talaria is there just to cover and embellish the pain and ugliness under it.

Mercury fights Amber with only its bare legs because symbolically his trauma is still fresh and he has yet to work out a structured coping mechanism to it. His meeting with Cinder is the first step in this construction that evolves in the following months and is still evolving:

In CEM’s fight against Amber, Mercury uses his unfeeling legs to whitstand the violence of the elements:

Fire

Earth and Water

Air

He goes through the whole cycle without feeling any pain simply because his trauma has made him unfeeling:

I'm the one That was ripped from the earth and exposed to the sun

Marcus has literally turned Mercury into Iron:

But I gleam like a blade and I'm harder than iron

Still, the point is that mercury as a metal is not as hard as iron, but (in the alchemical scale of metals) is way more refined and closer to gold. Mercury can be better than his father, but his way to survive abuse is to repress himself.

This is why his semblance was stolen by his abuser. It is because abuse has taken away Mercury’s personhood.

So, both Emerald and Mercury face abuse by masking or repressing themselves. The difference is a matter of degree. Mercury can suppress his emotions and needs more, while Emerald can’t.

Theirs is a foiling about feeling too much to the point of self-harm and of feeling too little to the point of negation.

So, Emerald must struggle with her feelings not to be controlled by them, while Mercury must aknowledge them.

Emerald’s Hallucinations is a Semblance of The Self because it hides both Emerald herself and the truth.

This is interesting because, as stated above, the Emerald Tablet should convey the truth about alchemy. However, Emerald’s environment has turned her into an inversion of herself:

I'm the one Who rose out of filth and was loved by no-one

She is a gemstone, but is currently covered in dirt. She needs to polish herself, so she can shine and fit better in her allusion.

Mercury’s stolen semblance is a Semblance of The Self because it is linked to Mercury’s self-expression, which he must claim back.

Until then, he is bound to be stuck in an abusive cycle as nothing, but a weapon.

In general, there is some symbolism around Mercury which needs unpacking:

Mercury quoting Marcus:"This is a crutch!" "This makes you weak!"

Firstly, he has clearly interiorized what his father told him here. He refuses the idea of weakness and crutches to the point that his prosthetics, which are literal crutches get turned into weapons and even covered by other weapons. However, this refusal of crutches means Mercury can’t heal. After all, crutches, bandages and treatment are necessary to become healthy once again.

Secondly, there is this: 

I'll run circles round ya, I can touch the sky

The God Mercury’s main attribute is that he can overcome any boundary. He can go wherever he wants in no time. However, Mercury is the opposite because no matter what, he can’t leave his abusive environment. This has to do once again with his father’s abuse which culminated with Marcus taking Mercury’s legs. This is symbolically why Mercury is trapped.

Like for Emerald, Mercury’s arc should be about growing into his allusion, so that he can finally be free.

Still, how to turn Emerald and Mercury in the positive versions of their allusions? The answer has to do with this question:

(I think Emerald could be key to) maybe Cinder's (redemption) too

I’M THE ONE

Emerald and Mercury are two parts of the individual (body and soul) and two parts of a Huntsman (semblance and weapon):

Ren: A common philosophy is that a warrior's Semblance is a part of who they are.

Ruby: Just weapons? They're an extension of ourselves! They're a part of us! Oh, they're so cool.

Together they make a unit. Together they make Cinder. They are two sides of her trauma, her two sins:

Emerald: Actually, I was wondering, do you have any copies of "The Thief and The Butcher"?

And the wounds behind those sins.

This is why Cinder takes them in, but also why she abuses them.

She uses them as weapons:

In CEM’s fight against Amber she lets them go in first and has them take the majority of Amber’s hits.

Not only that, but she uses them as “red herrings” she hides behind.

She acts as if Amber’s blow takes her out of the fight, while Amber focuses on Mercury who resists her attack:

She has Emerald display her semblance at full force, so that the girl becomes Amber’s first target:

She makes her own illusion where Emerald and Mercury are her smokescreen.

However, her two disciples are not just things she can use as she pleases. They are two people who depend on her:

Mercury: You mean--

Emerald: She's alive?

They are literally two kids she takes in framing their relationship as parental/hierarchical hence she is responsible for them.

However, she fails them and leaves them in a dangerous environment. This is why they both leave her out of self-survival.

Narratively, Emerald and Mercury are two kids that must grow up. Right now, they are in some kind of adolescent phase. They have started their emancipation from their “parent”, but they have still to grow until they’ll be able to truly face Cinder.

It will probably be in this confrontation that they will affirm their growth. Right now, Cinder does not need to be coddled, but to be called out. Both Neo and Watts try to, but Cinder ignores them and retaliates against them. She needs a call out she can’t ignore and Emerald and Mercury are too rooted in who she deep down is for her to be unaffected by them.

At the same time, it would mark Mercury and Emerald’s first step into adulthood. Only then they can stop being a “half” and can truly become “one”, so a whole person.

[salmonthestoryteller]

RNM Season 4 Episodes 10-11

There was a surprising amount of good scenes packed into these two episodes.

I loved everything in the interactions between Bonnie and Dallas. As well as their interactions with Michael. Bonnie and Michael’s hug when he came through the gate especially was adorable.  She's like his kid sister and I love it.

Isobel and Kyle are simultaneously adorable and painful.  Their hug got to me, too. And Isobel looking at his picture on her phone.

More Evans twins - I'm really glad to see their connection brought to the forefront again.

I surprisingly approve of the current Echo plotline despite sort of breakup 4.0 when the alien mist had Dark Liz in control.  The alien mist addiction.  Max admitting he was allowing fear to control him when it came to erasing his powers. Echo has spent a lot of the previous seasons saving each other from one physical threat or another.  But rarely has emotional vulnerability been necessary during that. This current plot is much more about emotional vulnerability for Echo, and I find myself enjoying their scenes.

Rosa continues to be wonderful. I loved her scenes with Liz, but I especially loved her scenes with Kyle.

Malex, what can I even say?  Their scenes were pretty much everything I could have wanted.  Including Alex building a trap that caught Bonnie and Dallas. Lol

And the proposal - of course, the proposal took my breath away. Curious if they are going to have Dallas marry them in the pocket dimension or not.  I kinda want him to just so their siblings can give them a hard time about it later.

Alex dying… I'm kind of on the fence with that one. Seems kinda an unnecessary plot with so few episodes left? But also slightly curious about which deus ex machina we're going for to save him.  Max getting his abilities back, Michael getting to unlock healing; Liz’s alien mist?

I… just can't get into the Tezca redemption arc. It just feels too far removed? I appreciated her as a villain, the threat to the main characters that I felt she was capable of making a viewer feel.  But in a sense, she did not really do enough villainous acts on screen for me to feel attached to her redemption.  Her biggest acts are all in a nebulous past that I don't think the show has taken the time to connect the viewers to enough. Most of our flashbacks were on Earth.  What little information we have from Oasis itself is more legendary than a proper full tale.  And the type of time it would take to tell that full story is too much.  It's a whole separate story by itself. So to spend so much time redeeming a character whose entire story is caught up in a tale we do not and will never fully know feels like such a waste of time that could have been spent on other characters.

And, yeah, I still don't feel anything about Clyde as a villain.  His villainy feels too cartoony for me. I'm kinda waiting for him to tie someone to a railroad track.  But he threatened Liz's student!  Yeah, and? Are we forgetting that our first Villain was Noah and he used Isobel to kill three other teenage girls in cold blood?  And I’m supposed to be all - oh, Clyde is so scary for… threatening to kill one person and shoving Bonnie into a pocket dimension he already knew she could survive in?

Look, under different circumstances - in a different show, Clyde might be scary with his obsession to complete his cult's work. But in this show, with the villains we've had, with it literally being just Clyde against like a dozen people, I just feel more disappointed in our Heroes than threatened by Clyde. Like, seriously guys? Do you need Greg to come shoot someone for you again?

Shivani’s descent into villainy on the flipside has been far more real. Far more human and in the present time plot. I'm pretty much expecting her to be killed, and I will be sorta saddened by that.  But I’m not sure I see a different ending to her arc. Especially now that she's joined forces with Clyde.

[inkedstarlight]

Bittersweet: Chapter 8

Summary: Nesta struggles with the aftermath of Tomas’s actions. Meanwhile, Cassian finally makes his grand entrance. Notes: Read it here on AO3! Warnings: non-explicit mentions of sexual assault and dealing with that trauma Bittersweet Masterlist

It was Thursday.

Nesta only knew that because it was the day of her final exam.

And because two days ago, Tomas tried to rape her.

When she had returned home that night, she received a text from him.

Tell anyone about what happened and I will ruin your fucking life. Don’t test me.

After reading those two sentences at least a dozen times over, she’d rushed to the bathroom and emptied her stomach until she was dry heaving.

Elain had been sound asleep on the couch when Nesta crept into their apartment in the late hours of the night. The television was still on, reruns of “The Great British Baking” show playing quietly in the background. Nesta had covered her sister with a knit blanket and shut the television off before retreating to her bedroom.

She made the mistake of looking in the mirror that hung above her dresser. Staring back at her was a girl with hollow eyes and downturned lips. The girl’s clothes were rumpled, her makeup smudged. Dark purple newly formed bruises tainted the entire length of her neck.

She didn’t recognize herself.

Nesta didn’t tell anyone. It wasn’t even because of Tomas’s threat. It just… it didn’t really matter. There wasn’t anything she could do to fix it. It happened and now it was over. Not to mention that Nesta had driven to his house with the intent of seducing him. She was the one who decided to cheat, to wear that provocative outfit.

It didn’t hurt that Tomas was a straight, white male. That he had sway with the professor. Even if Nesta decided to testify against him, she could already predict the outcome: Tomas denies the accusation, gets off with a warning, and Nesta is forced to continue working with him. It was plain and simple. His privilege outranked her trauma.

But even though Nesta hadn’t spoken a word about the incident, Elain was quick to realize that something was wrong. She’d always been good at reading people, especially Nesta. Elain used to say that she could pick up on other’s emotions and it was almost as if she felt them herself. Elain didn’t know exactly what was wrong with Nesta. She noticed the change in her behavior despite Nesta’s attempt to continue to function like a normal human. Elain had tried to get it out of Nesta, to no avail. Nesta insisted that everything was okay. Because it was.

She kept functioning. She showed up for work. Attended her classes. Got out of bed every day. In fact, she was so busy that she didn’t even have the time to think about that night. She took melatonin at night and fell asleep instantly. Nesta was fine.

And now it was Thursday. She was seated in class waiting for the Fictional Techniques exam to be proctored. Over the last two days, she’d managed to buckle down and concentrate on studying. She got a good amount done. Enough to at least pass the damn thing.

But then he walked in.

Nesta froze. Tomas put his things down on his desk and rummaged around. Like everything was normal. Like that night never happened. Like she wasn’t trembling in her seat in terror.

There was nothing Nesta hated more than allowing herself to be vulnerable enough to be scared.

She didn’t think he’d come to the exam itself. T.A.’s had no reason to be present. Typically, it was only the professor. And she especially didn’t think he’d come after the events that’d transpired just days ago.

But Gods, she was so stupid to think he wouldn’t.

Nesta watched as the professor gave him the pile of exams to hand out.

No.

Nesta’s eyes shot to the doors to her right. She could leave right now without Tomas noticing her. She would just need to sneak out the doors quietly. But the professor’s desk was right next to the exit, and there was no way Nesta could slip past her without drawing attention to herself.

All she could do was wait as Tomas went up and down the rows of desks. She stared down at her hands unmoving as she heard him approach. He was silent when he set the paper down in front of her. But as he walked past, she felt his fingers brush her bruised neck and subtly tug on the ends of her hair.

Nesta was frozen.

“You may begin,” the professor announced from the front of the room. They had two hours to complete the exam.

Nesta looked down at the exam on her desk. It was at least ten pages. She managed to write her name.

But when she tried to read the first question, the words blurred together. Her head was spinning as she willed herself to focus.

Two hours and then you’re done, she repeated to herself. Two hours. That's it. She let out a shaky breath.

Something told her to look up, to check to see if Tomas was near her. Nesta raised her eyes just slightly to see where he was. She didn’t have to look far.

Tomas was sitting at his desk staring at her, a leering grin on his face. He tilted his head to the side as if to mockingly say, Something wrong?

For the next two hours, Nesta didn’t breathe once.

And before she knew it, the timer was going off. She glanced down to see her blank exam. There was nothing written save her name. Not a single answer was filled out.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

She scrambled to write something – anything –  as students passed her desk to hand in their exams. Her heart was pounding, her hands damp with sweat. Gods, she was going to fail -

“Miss Archeron, time’s up,” the professor called to her. Everyone was trickling out of the classroom. “You had your time, put down your pencil.”

Nesta’s hand was shaking as she dropped her pencil. It fell to the floor, and she didn't pick it up.

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

I haven’t seen you in weeks. Are you dead?

Nesta stared down at the text Amren had sent her several days ago. She didn’t know what to say. She was surprised when she’d received the text. Not many people ever checked in with her like that, much less someone she met only a few weeks ago.

She wanted to say, I'm not okay. Something happened. Can I see you?

But instead, Nesta ignored it.

“Are you coming tonight?” Nesta was sitting on the couch when Elain emerged from her room.

“Coming where?” She didn’t so much as glance at her sister. Her eyes were glued to the television screen. They had been for the entire day.

“Feyre’s house.”

“No,” she replied bluntly. Iroh let out a meow, and Nesta rubbed his ear.

Elain stepped in front of the television. She was putting on her earrings as she asked, "Why not? You haven't been in a while. We miss you."

Nesta snorted, finally lifting her gaze to meet Elain's quizzical brown eyes. "I seriously doubt that."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know, Elain," she scoffed, throwing a hand in the air. "Haven't you noticed that you're the only one to invite me to these dinners anymore? Feyre doesn't give a shit, and Rhysand probably celebrates every time I don't show up."

Elain looked down at the floor and fidgeted. Elain was kind to everyone, but she seldom lied to preserve someone's feelings. Even Elain knew that Nesta was right, that her presence wasn't missed, that there was no point in arguing. "I care," she murmured quietly.

Nesta's heart got stuck in her throat.

Why? she wanted to yell. Why the fuck do you care about me? You're the only one left who does.

"It's just not a good time right now," Nesta explained. It was a shitty excuse, and she knew it. But what else was she supposed to say?

“Well, their friend, Cassian is finally coming home today. Apparently, this is the longest he's been deployed for. He was supposed to return last month, but it got extended," Elain told her. "Maybe that'll change things a little. They've all been so worried about him, Feyre especially. I think him being back will help with the stress she's been under and she'll be more open-minded."

Nesta sighed, not bothering to argue. She knew that Elain wouldn't take no for an answer. "I'll think about it, okay?"

It wasn't exactly a lie. Just highly improbable that she would go in the near future.

“Feyre said he’s more hotheaded than you, and that’s saying something," Elain joked, trying to cut the tension. Nesta did her best to muster a laugh. Elain's hopeful smile faltered slightly.

“Well, have fun."

Elain remained standing in front of her for a moment before the couch sank down with her weight as she sat next to where Nesta was curled into herself. Elain's delicate hand closed the space between them, and she tucked a stray hair behind her older sister’s ear.

“Is everything okay?” Elain’s voice was impossibly soft. She squeezed Nesta's hand.

Nesta willed herself not to cry. The physical gesture itself was enough to make her emotional; she hadn't even hugged someone in what felt like forever. “Yeah, I'm fine.”

Silence fell between them. Nesta could practically hear the thoughts racing through Elain's mind. She was always trying to fix other people's problems. But some can't be repaired.

“You… you know you can talk to me right?” Elain said tentatively as if Nesta could blow up at any minute. Like she was fragile.

Nesta didn’t say anything. She couldn't say anything.

Elain let out a small breath, and Nesta could hear the shakiness in it.

“I think Mor made some cupcakes for dessert tonight," she tried to say brightly. Nesta could tell it was hard for her to pretend to be positive. Elain's voice softened. "I’ll bring you back a little something, yeah?”

Nesta merely stared straight ahead and nodded.

The couch creaked as Elain stood. She leaned down and pressed a feather-light kiss to Nesta’s forehead.

“I love you,” she whispered. Elain hesitated for a second before straightening and walking out of the room.

Nesta didn’t even hear the door close when Elain left. All she knew were the tears that rolled down her cheek, one after the other. Just when she thought they'd stop, more would come rushing down. She didn’t brush them away.

I love you too.

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

Someone was trying to open their door.

Nesta didn’t know what time it was. All she knew that someone was trying to get into their apartment. It sounded like they were trying to pick the lock.

She checked the alarm clock that sat on her nightstand. Nearly three in the morning.

Maybe it’s Elain, the rational part of her brain thought.

Nesta jumped out of her bed, tiptoeing to Elain’s bedroom. She cracked the door open slightly to find her sister fast asleep.

Nesta’s heart raced. She could only think of one person who could be behind that door.

Tomas.

He could easily find out where she lived.

But she hadn't breathed a word of the incident. Why would he be here?

Nesta closed her sister’s bedroom door, ignoring the way her body trembled. She didn’t bother waking Elain. There was no point in scaring her when Nesta was probably just being paranoid. She’d sleep through anything anyway, she slept through a goddamn fire alarm one time. Nesta grabbed the baseball bat that leaned against the hallway wall as she approached the front door.

Why the fuck do we have this? Who plays baseball in this apartment?

Nesta crept closer toward the door. She mentally cursed herself for not installing their own peephole. Or security system. Anything.

She took a deep breath before grabbing the door handle with her left hand, bat at the ready. Nesta opened the door and –

“AGH!”

“What the fuck are you -"

“WHO ARE YOU?”

“Who are you?”

Nesta blinked at the man before her, the man who wasn't attacking her. She blinked a couple times before her eyes finally adjusted to the bright lights in the hallway.

They were both breathing heavily as they sized up one another.

“This is my apartment,” he gestured to Nesta’s apartment.

 The fuck?

She looked him up and down. Mostly up, thanks to his obnoxiously tall height. His chocolate hair was pulled into a small bun, loose strands framing his tanned face. Inked muscles disappeared under the sleeves of his grey shirt. He looked very disheveled, his eyes red from... exhaustion? Alcohol? Both? A suitcase was on the floor behind him, a key in his hand. When her gaze finally met his eyes, she glared at him.

“This is my apartment."

“4B?”

Gods help me.

"Did you really just wake me up because you don't know how to fucking count?" Nesta snapped, annoyance bubbling to the surface.

The man gave at her with a strange look. She sighed at his incompetence and gestured to the plaque that rested on the wall next to the door. “This is 4A. You have another floor to go, buddy.”

But the man didn’t seem to care that he had just embarrassingly forgotten where his damn apartment was as he peered closer at Nesta.

“Do I know you?” his voice was low and rough. His fingers twitched as if he was going to reach out for her.

Nesta rose a brow. He was really testing her patience. “Nope.”

“I… Did you recently move in? I’ve never seen you here before.” He dragged a hand over his stubbly five o'clock shadow with a thoughtful look.  “And I would definitely remember if I had.”

Nesta snorted despite the fatigue that plagued her body. “Does that usually work for you?”

“Excuse me?”

“That line. ‘Oh, I could never forget such a beautiful thing like you,’” her voice lowered as she mockingly imitated the man in front of her.

The man looked like he could burst out laughing. Nesta crossed her arms over her chest. She narrowed her eyes at him. What the fuck is he laughing about?

“I didn’t say it was your looks that are unforgettable,” he said, amusement glinting in his eyes. “Nah, it’s more the signature death glare and callous attitude.”

Normally, Nesta would either shoot an insult right back at him or throw a punch. But she wasn't in the mood. Not to be talking to someone in the ungodly hours of the night or to test a stranger's patience. Especially not a stranger who looked like he could easily break through the door and hurt her.

Nesta's stomach sunk at that last thought. Her eyes shuttered closed for the briefest of moments as she reigned in her anger. When she opened them again, a flash of concern seemed to cross the man's face.

She didn't give him the chance to say another word. She was done with him, with this entire conversation. Gods, all she wanted was to crawl into bed and sleep until the world fell away and her mind was quiet.

“Good luck finding your apartment. If you wake me up one more time tonight, I won't hesitate to use this," Nesta snapped, holding up the bat in her hand for him to see. Then, she was slamming the door in his bewildered face.

It wasn't until she laid back down in her bed that Nesta realized the interaction she'd just had was been the first since that night to make her feel something other than numbness.

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

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[hank-mcdankblade]

I Know A Bottom When I See One Princess (Part 3)

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary

Chapter 1: You and Dean have been pals for as long as you can remember, practically raised together. Are things still the same as you remembered when you reconnect with him after a couple years apart? Well there is one thing you see differently and you’re about to call him out on it.

Chapter 2:  After you flirt back with Dean you start to rethink all of your life choices. Why did you flirt back instead of making fun of him? God it would be so much easier if you were just a genderless blob. Hopefully the new supernatural case a friend of your mom’s gives you will distract you from all this romance mumbo jumbo.

Chapter 3: You and Dean both start to realize your feelings are not what you both originally anticipated them to be. If only you two could actually talk like adults instead of bantering like childish 8 year olds. The case picks up when you see a certain someone’s name over every case, a certain boomer’s name.

Chapter 4: You and Dean do some sleuthing into Chrissy’s apparent death. After learning the truth your trip to Wendy’s/Jack in the Box gets interrupted by Chief douchebag. Rick takes the three of you on a nice drive to the mountains to introduce you to his daughter.

Word Count: 5,041

Warnings: Many, Many swear, Dean being a little shit, pg-13 thoughts from a certain green eyed hunter.

  ______________________________________________________________________

      The car was quiet. You couldn’t help but wonder if maybe you were the cause of it. You reminded yourself that there were a million other reasons as to why the drive was silent. Hell there were hours spent in this car with nothing but the sound of guitars and dig of the tire against the road as background noise. All you needed was each other’s company and nothing more. The rational part of your mind was scolding you to shut the hell up about it and stop worrying, pointing out multiple pieces of evidence disproving your original theory. Meanwhile your much less rational side disagreed. She was a bit of a dumb bitch, but very persuasive. It was practically her superpower to ignore all the facts and blindly believe in her opinions.

        “Hey, sorry about springing the whole relationship thing on you. Just thought it’d be easier to fly under the radar as a couple….” You clenched your hands and wrung them together. Your eyes glanced at Dean to your left, quietly gauging his reaction. 

       “Don’t apologize, it’s ok. It was quick thinking. And who knows how suspicious detective douche would’ve been if you hadn’t.” Dean only took his eyes off the road for a moment to look over at you, lying through his damn teeth.

       “True…guess Jen was right about the cops being jumpy here.” Finally, with that off your conscience you could relax into the leather seats with ease. Things were fine. You were just putting way too much thought into this flirting with Dean thing. It was just how your relationship with him was and everything was ok. 

       You were fairing much better than Dean though. Dean’s grip on the steering wheel could be described as vice-like. The insides of his fingertips could feel the stitches in the fabric of the wheel. It felt like he had cotton shoved into his head, there was only one thing consuming his thoughts. Was he really interested in having you the way you spoke of the other night? Bent over and vulnerable while you took advantage of him? Thank god that his right foot was preoccupied with the gas pedal or his entire leg would be bouncing. 

        To you his face looked stoic, and void of emotion. Dean’s eyes were painted with a foggy filter. Mentally he was miles away from the Impala. Every couple of minutes or so he would come back and hyper focus on a different part of the reality in front of him. Dean sometimes focused on the way his joints bent or how his skin felt, and other times focused on how you were too close to him and too far away at the same time. Dean’s hand was shaking, aching to have it on your leg, give you a good squeeze or anything just something to feel you and your skin on him. He wanted to feel your firm grip on him, on his legs, his hands, around his throat. He wanted so badly for your hips to be driving his into the mattress, coming up and down bouncing on his cock until he came closer and closer…

        “Ready to head in and get some info.?” Your delicate voice slowly reintroduced him to the present. Dean looked in front of him and saw a beige building that looked like it was built in the 60s and was never remodeled since. The black letters on the brick wall by the front door read, ‘Grand Mesa County Libraries Central Library.’ His body was slowly returning to its normal temperature as he stepped out of the car. 

        “Yeah, let’s do it.” Getting back on track Dean prepared himself for the first step in every hunting trip you two took, do some re-con and get info about the case. He was gonna have to put his thoughts of you on the back burner for now, which was easier said than done. Once you passed the threshold, the smell of old carpet and moth balls slapped you in the face. It was a nostalgic potent smell that reminded you of your kindergarten years and would haunt you for the rest of your life. Looking around, the place did not seem too busy. There were a few people scattered across the building casually mulling through books and movies to check out.

        “Wanna check the newspapers and I’ll look into local lore?” You two nodded to each other and went your separate ways diving deep into yellowed paper and books with broken spines. Soon enough you could no longer hear the soft thumps of Dean’s boots.

        After scanning the isles you checked out a couple books and started a nest by the computers. The first thing you knew you had to check out was the case at hand. You tapped away at the very out of date computer keyboard.

        Disappearances Grand Mesa National Forest

        There were about a thousand hits online for disappearances. The hard part would be finding information from a reliable source. The first few minutes into researching changed your posture as your spine straightened up and mind shifted into its case-mode. Everything in the world went blurry except for the books and screen in front of you.

~~~~

        ‘Newspapers…newspapers.’ Dean’s fingertips brushed over the tops of age softened newspapers. Once you spend months in different libraries you tend to pick up what their usual lay out was, so the newspapers were an easy find. Thankfully instead of having to search through the records by hand, this library had a computer to search key words in to find articles. If Dean ever went to hell, he was sure that being forced to dig through newspapers by hand would be his torture. 

        ‘Newly-Wed couple from Illinois vanished without a trace. Last seen in Grand Mesa National Forest.’

        ‘Scouts No Longer Holding Summer Camp in Grand Mesa National Forest After Four Scouts Lost to the Curse.’

        ‘The Grand Mesa Curse strikes again with the disappearance of a family of three.’

        Seeing the pictures from the crime scenes made things real. Of course Dean knew the hidden reality that the supernatural world truly was, but sometimes it was easy to forget. It was easy to forget that there was true evil in this world, that there was evil more than just a greedy billionaire or corrupt politician, but pure evil that only sought to drag as many souls to hell as possible. There were so many families that had their loved ones ripped from them without a reason, completely unknowing of the darkness that lurked so closely to them. They would be driven mad with the lack of ‘logical’ facts in their eyes, cursed to never know what really happened and given answers that felt bitter to the taste. Others had their eyes opened unwillingly, shown what was behind the curtain before they could even sputter out an answer. Dean wondered what he would’ve chosen had he been given the choice. Would he rather know what killed his mother and spent his life fearing those that hid behind human faces? Or would he rather go on with his normal apple pie life never finding closure in the death of his mother? Neither option had more pros or cons than the other. He could spend a lifetime mulling the answer over and never find one that felt fight.

        “Excuse me, are you looking for something in specific? You look a little lost…” Dean turned his attention upwards and saw a young librarian. She looked like she was probably a couple years older than him, a native here for sure.

       “Huh?” Dean blinked a few times before really processing what she said to him while he was on autopilot. “Oh, no. I’m alright but thanks.” Dean offered her a smile before going back to flipping through the stacks of old newspapers. 

        The librarian nodded before looking at what headlines he was choosing. She raised a brow as assumptions about who this mysterious man was filled her head. “Interested in the Grand Mesa Curse huh?” Now there was something useful that he needed. 

        “Uh…yeah. Somethin’ like that. Know anything about it?” Dean leaned his arms on the newspaper stand. Any info you two could get would make this whole operation go smoother. 

       The woman let out a short breath of a laugh and shook her head. “It’d be impossible to live around here and not know about it. Around this time of year nobody really goes up into those woods, and especially near the mine shafts.” She paused for a beat and then continued. “My name’s Shan by the way.” Shan looked at Dean with an eagerness in her eyes. The gesture fell on deaf ears and Dean simply smiled back at her.

       “Dean.” He held out his hand to hers, and gave her a firm shake. “Well, I’ve got all I need for now.”

       “Feel free to call me if you need anything.”

        “Will do, thanks.” What a nice lady. 

~~~~

        After collecting a handful of articles from different newspapers, Dean headed back to you ready to get down to business. You were hunched over a loud keyboard like a goblin, typing away all the notes you were compiling for future use. There were probably about 15 tabs open on one browser and 17 pages from various books that had been dog eared. From the looks of it, Dean could tell you were already on a roll. Not wanting to disturb you, he silently pulled out a chair next to you and started to flip through and score the articles he had. 

        About an hour later you two felt confident enough in your information to start piecing something together. 

       “Hey.” An unfamiliar voice interrupted your work process forcing you out of your thought bubble. When you looked up you saw what you assumed was a librarian who worked here looking right at Dean with some form of recognition lighting up her features. “Thought I’d check in to see how you were doing with the Grand Mesa Curse.” There was something in the tone of this girl’s voice that really put you off. Instinctively you tried not to reveal your true thoughts with your facial expressions. There was nothing on her, or within her, that was tripping up your Slayer signal, so she definitely was not a monster. Regardless, something was feeling weird as you looked between the two of them.

       “Pretty good actually, just getting some basic information.” The two of them chatted for a bit before the girl eventually left to actually do her job. Ok there was a possibility that you were being harsh, but this girl was interrupting your research session so regardless she’s being a bother. Human or not.

       Ok…

                Deep breath….

       You took a moment to restart yourself in a sense. She was human, and she wasn’t even at your table for too long so why were you so on edge around her?

        Next to you, Dean felt something in the air shift and looked over to you. Your eyes were still glued to the computer screen but your vibe felt different, more ridged, and that worried him. Still looking at you, Dean nudged you with his elbow.

        “Hmm?” You hummed, still focused on your research.

       “You ok? You seem…upset.” Damn him for knowing you so well. Hunting together had given him the skill to pick up on all your tells. You didn’t know whether this was a blessing or a curse.

        “What? No I’m ok.” You spared him a moment of your attention before returning to work. Dean slowly narrowed his eyes at you. The slightly higher pitched bubbly-ness in your voice was not genuine. You were lying, but he wasn’t going to press you on it in such a public place. 

        The moments drew longer and blurred together as you two eventually got back into the swing of things, but there was something that caught your attention as the hour flew by. It happened every fifteen or so minutes when you would catch a glimpse of that girl that talked to Dean. She would linger by the book stands and rearrange the books there, giving herself an excuse to look at Dean while she ‘worked.’ With each time she stalked near, her act became less and less convincing and it was starting to tick you off. You had work to do and she couldn’t take the hint with the piles of books you two had. Not to mention how little Dean seemed to pay attention to her advances. If she was a monster, she was a very poor one at that, but if she was a human then you had an idea of what she was after. Either option made you want to pull Dean’s chair closer to you, look over his shoulder to see what he was working on even though you already knew. A burning feeling started to ignite with every trip she made past your table. 

        Annoying woman aside, you two had found some important information. The history of the Grand Mesa National Forest was pretty plain. The forest was created by President Benjamin Harrison in 1892. No amount of digging brought up any supernatural affiliation. No massacres of any kind, no Native American burials, and no cults made that forest their home either. So this meant no large scale hauntings, which honestly relieved you. This narrowed the field down. Looking over articles from books and online and newspapers brought to light what was commonly known here as the “Grand Mesa Curse.” 

        It started about two decades ago when a group of college kids traveled up into the mountains for Christmas break. According to their parents they only planned on staying for a couple of days. Things took a turn for the worse when it had been three days after the kids were supposed to be home and no one heard from them. Entire search parties of police officers, family and friends, and many other volunteers combed the forest the best that they could. No bodies were found but their campsite was destroyed and barren. The press and police chalked this up to be the fault of the bears that roamed around, and the same was happening with the most recent case. Luckily this time around there was one girl who survived the attacks, Chrissy Hamilton. 

        There had been a couple cases before this particular one as well that dealt with bear attacks and missing people, but the thing that made it stand out was that the disappearances grew in number afterwards. They were all around the same time and similar location. Something that caught your eye immediately was that a girl from the group of college kids had the same last name as the sheriff you and Dean saw. 

        Lydia Sullivan, daughter of Rick Sullivan, went missing two decades ago and was never found. Her mother, Emily Sullivan, passed away soon after not being able to handle the death of her child. “Ok so if his daughter got merked, why is Sullivan Chief of Douchebags so lax with all these cases? You’d think he’d take his time.” Your tone of voice was low and gravely coming out slowly. That ass hole’s name was popping up everywhere. Rick Sullivan oversaw every single disappearance case in the Grand Mesa National Forest district since his daughter went missing. The man was seen as a determined father that wanted to keep Colorado’s kids safe. He may not have worked every case personally, but the records stated that he went over the paperwork and guided his officers. 

        “Maybe he’s luring kids into the forest? What purpose would he have to cover all of this up though if he wasn’t involved?” Dean leaned his forearm on the back of your chair to get a closer look at what you had. 

        “Doubt it, on all their suspect lists they show alibis too and his checks out. So that means that all of this is coincidental. He could be overseeing every case because he feels guilty for letting his daughter down?” 

        “Like a coping mechanism?” Dean sat back in his chair, eyes focused on a blank part of a wall as he tried to process everything. 

        You nodded. “Yeah, those things that normal people have.” You gave Dean a smirk knowing full well that both of your coping mechanisms included heavy amounts of alcohol and repression. Dean rolled his eyes at you with a smile that mirrored yours, remembering all the countless nights where you two would stay up far too late with a bottle of whiskey. Many times at the end of those nights the thoughts and pictures that kept you up at night would tumble out from your mouths. Subconsciously the space between you two would shrink, physically and emotionally. Dean could count on his left hand how many people he trusted and felt safe enough around to be vulnerable with. After all the shit you’d been through and years you’ve known each other, if he didn’t trust you he would never trust anyone. 

        “Hey, me again. Wanted to let you know that I found a couple of stragglers for the paper you two are putting together.” Jesus Christ this librarian really couldn’t see a moment when it was right in front of her could she? You had had enough of this girl’s talking. You thin string of will power snapped and opened up the lines from your direct thoughts to your mouth.

        “Why are you here?” Your eyes narrowed. Dean was taken aback. He had seen you lose your temper before, but only on those who truly deserved it. I.E. bar assholes, clowns/mimes, and religious nuts trying to convert you. This wasn’t the usual anger he was used to seeing before you knocked someone out, it was a silent subtle kind that would creep up on you if you didn’t watch for the signals. He was seeing all of them in slow motion. 

         Your jaw was clenched, no doubt thinking of biting her head off if she didn’t scamper off back to the corner she came from. What was usually a smile was replaced with a thin line that showed no welcome. But the thing that scared him the most was your eyes, cold and distant. Those eyes had never been directed him, eyes void of compassion. 

        Shan flinched just the slightest, brows pulled together not expecting such a reaction. “Uh-um, I’m here to help. It’s kind of my job.” She bit back at the end of her sentence, though her stare was not nearly as intimidating as yours. When she talked to Dean earlier she assumed that the two of you were merely classmates or just friends, but she had a bad feeling that she barked up the wrong tree. Your aura seemed dangerous, like a crazy jealous girlfriend. 

        “It’s your job to creep around the patrons and watch them from afar while you pretend to do your job?” One brow was quirked as you leaned back with your knees open and arms crossed. The attitude you were throwing was one that would rival middle schoolers and mothers looking to talk to the manager. It was very out of character for you to be petty, it always made you feel sick afterwards.

        Shan narrowed her eyes back, cheeks flushing a deep red. “Excuse me-”

        “Listen sweetheart, my boyfriend and I have a lot of work to do and you’re being a bother. So how about you get back to your real job and stop making googly eyes at my partner huh?” Your bite was sharp as a knife, cutting deep into Shan’s emotions. She took one look at Dean, who was currently preoccupied with staring at you, and quickly scampered off. You shut your eyes and opened them with only one goal in mind. The faster you knew about this case, the faster you could get the hell out of this library.

        Those thoughts that Dean were having to put on the back burner suddenly moved to the front. “So…..was she somehow endangering our hunt that you had to cover for us again?” The smug bastard was referencing what you did because of Detective Sullivan.

        “Yes. She was endangering our efficiency.” Your fingertips flipped through a book closest to you, anything to not look at Dean. In the tone of his voice you knew he was pleased. 

        Dean was more than pleased, albeit a little confused about his feelings but pleased nonetheless. He loved hearing the commanding tone of your voice, telling some other girl to back off of him. Telling that girl to back off because he was yours. A needle pricked at the back of Dean’s mind as he replayed the rollercoaster of emotions he felt. He liked that moment. He liked your tone of voice, but why? It was because of the insinuations he could make. You wanted him. You wanted him to yourself, there was a possessiveness to what you said and how you said it. It was dominant and commanding. 

        No. Dean liked it because it meant you wanted him. He was not a bottom, and he did not like that interaction because you were possessive and domineering. 

        ……

        “Mmmhhmmmm,” Dean hummed, his inflection rising up and then down. Now it was his turn to lean back into his chair. His perfect lips were pursed with a small smirk, one brow quirked with intrigue. “You sure someone wasn’t jealous of a pretty lady giving me attention?”

        “Sorry but the only pretty lady I see in this library is me,” Your voice attempted to make you seem preoccupied with cleaning up your space. Your fingers moved a lightning speed as you emailed yourself all the notes you had taken and shut down all the programs you had opened. “So I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Your facial features moved in a comical way depicting a dramatic expression of confusion, with a hand on your hip. The table was finally free of all your possessions, the last notebook was zipped up into your backpack.

        Dean had you right where he wanted you, embarrassed and caught. He knew you would dodge and change the subject as quickly as you could if confronted with a topic you didn’t like. “I’m gonna remind you of this!” He shouted to you with his hands cupped around his mouth.

        You were already speeding off to the car, desperate to run away from this conversation and what it could come to. If anyone was going to be in control of a situation, it was going to be you and you’d fight anyone and everyone for that control with your bare hands. 

        “I’ll forget it!” You yelled back at him over your shoulder, bleaching your mind of any itchy feelings you were experiencing. 

        “Constantly!” Dean yelled back, only to receive the bird from you. He laughed and tumbled after you, happy to finally have some new material to ruin your day with. 

~~~~

        After five minutes of Dean looking like the cat who got the cream, white all over his smug stupid whiskers, you arrived at a locally owned diner. If you rolled your eyes anymore you were certain that you would go blind, and yet it would still be worth it just to let Dean know that you were mildly inconvenienced by his existence. The hum of the impala came to a soft halt. With the combination of Dean teasing you and your hunger, you may have strangled someone if you didn’t get fries in you soon. 

        A bell attached to the door rang out once you two stepped foot inside. Only the waitress on staff bothered to look up from her post behind a counter, the other employees were too engrossed in just making it through another eight hour shift without losing their minds.

        “Seat yourself wherever you like, I’ll be with you in a second!” She flashed a bright smile before dipping into the back of the kitchen. You and Dean nodded before following her directions and finding the corner booth in the back, cause that’s where all the cool kids sit. And with you two sitting there, only the coolest of kids sat there. 

        Dean leaned his chin on his hand and gazed at you. “So do you wanna talk more about how you secretly have a crush on me?”

        “No.”

        “Maybe about how you were totally going to duel that hot librarian for my hand?”

        “Rot in hell.”

        “Oh! Oh! Maybe we can discuss your feelings on a certain other topic that’s definitely unrelated.”

        Your unamused eyes continued to look at him, giving him no response hoping that he’d take the FUCKING hint. “Oh yeah? And what topic would that be?”

        “Me, and my cute face.” Dean winked and did his signature blue steel look. With a loud bang you hit your head on the table, laying your arms on the table around your head limp.

        “Deaaannn, I swear to god I will strangle you until the last breath from your lung is used.”

        “So what you’re saying is that you want your hands on me? You want to touch me?” Dean leaned closer and dropped his voice as low as he could go with every word that came out of his mouth just egging you on to do something. “You wanna put your hands all over my body?” 

        You whipped your head up, eyes wild and craving revenge, and you were just about to open your mouth and verbally destroy this stupid boy’s whole career when your waitress popped herself in front of the table. 

        “Hi! I’m Audrey, and I’ll be taking care you guys tonight. Have you been here before?” She had the whole speech memorized and recited it off as she handed you both a menu. 

        “Why no we haven’t! Darling aren’t you so excited to be here?” Dean grabbed your hand across the table affectionately with a huge fake smile. The weird vibe Audrey got from this table was throwing her off but regardless she had a job to do. 

        ‘Some of us will never eat again…’ You thought to yourself, thinking of all the places you could stab Dean with a fork. 

        “Thrilled.” You stated, pointedly glaring at Dean and his boyish charm getting the best of you. Audrey smiled to herself and started to understand what was going on and dismissed her earlier thoughts. After getting you two started with drinks she left you to look over the food options. 

        “Can I guess what you’re gonna get?”

        “As long as I get serve you cyanide afterwards.” 

        Dean settled into the booth and looked off into the distance to pretend to think very hard. “You are gonna get a cheeseburger with everything on it, as rare as they serve it. Side of fries and a large lemonade because even at age 23, you’re still an 8 year old.” 

        Damnit he was right. 

        You shared Dean’s smug look, ready to dish back what you were served. “Ok fine, you’re going to get the most overloaded bacon burger in order to cash in on that heart attack you’ve been waiting for forever, but hold all the vegetables because we want this one to be a big one. Side of fries and a shitty great value coke.”

        Dean nodded slightly and clapped quietly for you. “Right you are.” A moment was spent in silence, just the two of you laughing at each other smiling like love struck idiots. Your eyes tore away first, landing on a newspaper that was from today. The headline was the real reason you decided to pick it up.

        Local Crazy Believes Creature of the Night Kills Friend

        You flipped through the pages to find the story. It was published today and showed a picture of your sole survivor, Chrissy Hamilton.

        In a sad attempt to get some attention, Chrissy Hamilton offers her break out story. 

        “It was like my friends’ voices were coming from two different directions!”

       “This thing was too fast to see…”

       Clearly this is just another example of our country’s failed mental health system…

        “I wouldn’t spend too much time reading that malarkey…” Audrey said with her eyebrows pulled together, eyes cast down as she refilled your water glasses. 

        “Do you know her?” You asked, laying the paper flat on the table for Dean to see too.

        Audrey sighed as she stood back up, water pitcher straining her left wrist. “She’s my best friend. I’m not sure what really happened up there, but the newspaper doesn’t have to ruin her reputation like this and publish a drag story.” Her jaw clenched at the mention of the newspaper.

        “Does she have any enemies at the newspaper, maybe that would want to defame her?” Dean spoke up. Audrey eyed Dean caught up in her own thoughts.

        “We’re trying to run a counter story to get the Denver Times to redact the article.” You butted in, if this girl was going to give you anything it had to seem like she wasn’t gossiping with customers but giving info to fellow truth seekers. 

        Audrey pursed her lips in thought for a moment. “No, but the police chief doesn’t seem to like her. I don’t have any evidence to back it up, but I’m pretty sure he went to the head news correspondent and told him to run the article.” As more information poured in, the two of you couldn’t seem to figure out what the hell this cop’s problem was. He seemed to do everything in his power to derail this investigation, the dude was definitely hiding something. 

        “You’re pretty sure?”

        “Yeah…they’re drinking buddies so it wouldn’t surprise me.” Audrey’s attention was pulled away when the bell at the front door rang again. “If you guys have any more questions I can answer them after my shift.” 

        You and Dean shared a look. “The same voice coming from two different directions and super fast? I think I have an idea of what we’re looking for…”

        “Can we please talk to that Hamilton lady first, I’d very much like to drag this out before I freeze my balls off…”

_______________________________________________________________________

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[dlwritings]

Call Him Hers | Dean Winchester | pt 5

series masterlist found here

general masterlist found here

pairing - Mark-of-Cain!Dean x plus-size!reader word count - 3,339 warnings - language

(A/N) - find my Office reference lol

summary - (Y/N) and Dean head out to the high school to help decorate for the reunion. Things definitely don’t go to plan

(previous) (next)

(Y/N) woke up with Dean’s arms wrapped around her as if neither of them moved all night. She couldn’t remember the last time she had such a peaceful slumber. She was sure Dean hadn’t woken up once throughout the night after she made him join her in bed, otherwise she would’ve heard him. He was breathing steadily, his face resting in the crook of her neck. It was another moment where, if she tried hard enough, she could imagine that it was all real.

The clock next to the bed read 7:30, and she knew she needed to get up and force Dean awake, too. Charlie and Sam had both probably been awake for at least an hour, if not longer, and she thought they might want to get breakfast to talk over their plans. She started to attempt to untangle herself from Dean’s arms, but he immediately held her tighter. “Five more minutes,” he mumbled, his lips tickling her skin.

Truthfully, Dean had been awake for a few minutes already. He woke up before she did, but he had no desire to move. He hadn’t slept that well since he got the mark. He had no nightmares, and he didn’t move a muscle. He didn’t even mind the fact that her hair was in his face or that her head had made his arm fall asleep. Dean rarely fell asleep beside a woman, not since Lisa anyway. He didn’t want to allow himself that kind of vulnerability when it had gone so wrong the last time he tried. Despite all of that, waking up with (Y/N) felt like the most natural thing in the world. Dean could feel goosebumps break out across her skin as she laughed.

“C’mon, Dean,” she said. “We’ve got things to do.” Dean sighed dramatically but obliged and let her wiggle out of his grasp.

“So what’s your plan?” he asked, stretching slightly and scratching the back of his neck.

“Jennifer sent out a mass text and said she wanted help setting up,” she said, standing up from the bed. “I thought we could go help out and take some time to look around the school. There might be old student records that could help us find more connections between the vics and our possible suspects.”

Dean agreed and went to take a shower and get ready. She saw that Charlie had left her more outfits the day she made her wear the romper, and she couldn’t help but wonder what else she picked out. She went through the clothes and found an outfit she actually liked: belted, paper bag pants with vertical black and white stripes and a white, frilled, button front top that was slightly cropped. The crop wasn’t too drastic, and the highwaisted nature of the pants meant she wouldn't be showing too much skin. She decided it would be a good outfit to wear for the day. She’d probably be comfortable, and it was a good look that didn’t scream hunter.

Dean came out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist, water droplets sliding from his still damp hair down his smooth skin. She tried not to stare, but his tanned skin and tight muscles were just so mouthwatering. It wasn’t anything she hadn’t seen before, but that didn’t mean it didn’t still affect her. She may’ve known him for ten years, but she was still human. Dean noticed her staring and shot her a wink. “Like what you see?” he teased. She rolled her eyes and pushed past him.

“I’m taking a shower,” she said.

“Could’ve joined me,” he said. “Saved water.”

“Could’ve joined me. Saved water,” she repeated in a mocking tone. Dean laughed and she went to the bathroom to get ready.

After over an hour and a half in the bathroom, she was finally showered, dressed, and done with her hair and makeup. “Finally,” Dean groaned as soon as she stepped out. “Was gonna piss myself waiting-” He looked up from his phone and looked over at her, stopping his words in their tracks. “You look great,” he said.

“Thanks,” she said, smoothing out her pants awkwardly. “Charlie packed it for me. Thought it’d be better than a flannel.”

“What’s wrong with a flannel?” he asked, tugging at his own outfit with a playful frown.

“Nothing,” she said with a laugh. “You look perfect.”

Dean smiled. “Alright. Let me hit the bathroom, and then we can go.”

While Dean was in the bathroom, she shot a quick text to Charlie to let her know what she and Dean were planning on doing for the day. Charlie responded that she and Sam were going to head to the police station and talk with the local cops to get their input on the whole situation.

What are you wearing?

She chuckled and rolled her eyes. Are you trying to sext me?

I’d never slide in and steal Dean’s girl ;) I just wanted to see if you were wearing one of the outfits I packed for you.

She smiled and stood up from the bed, then walked over to the mirror to take a selfie to send to Charlie. She made exaggerated duck lips and did a peace sign before snapping the pic and sending it to Charlie. She was staring down at her phone when she felt Dean wrap his arms around her from behind. He put his chin on her shoulder and looked at the text she was sending Charlie. “Cute,” he teased when he saw the picture. She quickly exited out of the text message, not wanting him to see the text Charlie had sent her about being “his girl.”

Dean took her phone and opened up the camera app. When he wrapped one arm around her stomach, she blushed and put her hands on top of his arm, keeping him close to her. With his head still on her shoulder, he took a picture of the two of them in the mirror. She looked up at him with a curious smirk, but he was still looking at her phone. All she wanted was to put her hand on his cheek and turn his face to hers so she could kiss him.

Oh to truly call him hers.

Dean took a few more pictures as the two pulled funny faces. When he started tickling her sides, she finally pulled away. “Alright, alright,” she said with a laugh. “We’ve gotta go.”

“We didn’t even get breakfast,” Dean said.

“We’ll pick it up on the way,” she said. “C’mon.”

She and Dean headed out of the hotel and into the Impala. While Dean started the car and pushed a cassette into the player, she scrolled through the pictures Dean had taken. There was one that made a smile creep up on her cheeks. She was looking at the mirror pulling a funny face, and Dean was looking down at her with one of his smiles that made the corners of his eyes crinkle.

It was completely unfair how much she loved him.

She set the photo as her phone background and locked her screen with a smile just as Dean pulled up to the school. Any happy feelings she had completely vanished. Her smile dropped noticeably, and Dean shut off the engine and looked at her. “You okay?” he asked.

She sighed. “I should have burned this place down when I had the chance.”

Dean laughed and got out of the car, jogging around to the passenger side to open the door for her. He held her hand as they walked into the building. “It’s weird,” she said, her voice soft. “I have so many bad memories here, but sometimes I still wish I could go back.”

“Why?” Dean asked.

She shrugged. “The world was a little easier when I didn’t have monsters on my ass all the time.” Dean gave her a sad smile and squeezed her hand.

“Yeah, but you didn’t know me back then,” he said. “I’d say you’ve upgraded.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she said with a playful roll of her eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

They made their way through the school and into the gym. She thought it was a weird existence, walking through the halls with a handsome man on her arm. Even if their relationship wasn’t real, if her high school self could see that she was even friends with someone as flawless as Dean Winchester, she would shit herself with disbelief. When she and Dean got into the gym, it was full of more people than she expected. Music was playing, and Jennifer was presently standing around with a group of people, presumably giving instructions. When she saw (Y/N) and Dean though, she stopped mid conversation and held up a finger to the people. (Y/N) was surprised as she jogged over to them with a smile. “So glad you two could make it,” Jennifer said.

“Anything to help,” (Y/N) said.

“Great,” Jennifer said. “I was wondering if you guys could decorate the main hallway. There’s a table of streamers over there-” She gestured across the gym. “-and some string lights and balloons. I thought you could hang the streamers from one side of the ceiling to the other-” She continued gesturing, trying to make it clear to her and Dean what she was saying. “-and then maybe the twinkly lights and balloons could go around the gym doors.”

(Y/N) took a minute to really take Jennifer in. She was wearing glasses, and her hair was up in a high pony. Her shorts were paper bag style, much like the pants she herself was wearing, and had vertical stripes that were mustard colored, black, and white. The top she was wearing was a ribbed tube top with buttons on the front. She looked comfortable and relaxed and completely in her element. (Y/N) wondered if she had imagined all the patronizing looks she was sure she had seen every time she spoke to her before, because all she saw was genuineness in her smile.

“Awesome,” Dean said. (Y/N) smiled and nodded as well, and started to walk away with Dean, but Jennifer grabbed her arm.

“Actually, (Y/N),” Jennifer said, “I was wondering if I could talk to you for a second.” She felt her breath hitch in her throat as she clenched her jaw. What could she want to talk about? (Y/N) looked at Dean who gave her a gentle smile and placed a kiss to her cheek.

“I’ll go get the stuff,” Dean said. She took a deep breath but nodded.

“I’ll meet you in the hallway,” she said to him. He nodded as well and left her and Jennifer alone. Jennifer motioned for the two of them to head over to one of the tables that was already set up. When they sat down, (Y/N) crossed her legs awkwardly and played with her hands. “What’s up?” she said, hoping she didn't sound as uncomfortable as she felt. Jennifer took a deep breath and let it puff out of her lips.

“I wanted to say I’m sorry,” she said. (Y/N) furrowed her eyebrows.

“Sorry?” she said. “For what?” Jennifer licked her lips and darted her eyes around the room. She seemed nervous, like she was struggling to find her words.

“I know I wasn’t a good person in high school,” she said. “I just wanted you to know that I’m not that person anymore. I, I said some really bitchy things to you back then, and I just want you to know I’m genuinely sorry.” (Y/N) opened her mouth to say something, but Jennifer kept talking. “And I can’t pretend I’m not saying this selfishly. I mean, hell, look at you! It’s not like you’re holding onto anything that I said to you. You, you have a hot ass husband, you look fine as hell, and you just-” She scoffed, but smiled. “You seem so happy. And I’m sure you’ve moved on, but, sometimes I just look back, and I hate who I was and how I treated you. I think I’m saying all this so I can let it go. So, so you don’t have to take this apology or anything. I just wanted to say it.”

(Y/N)’s lips parted as she looked at Jennifer in shock. She had no idea what she was expecting her to say, but that for sure wasn’t it. “Oh,” was all she managed to say. Jennifer let out a small, borderline embarrassed laugh before looking down at her hands. “It’s okay,” (Y/N) said to her. Her voice held a tone of surprise, because she truly was still shocked that Jennifer had apologized at all. “Like, I let go of that a long time ago.”

“Yeah?” Jennifer said, her voice cracking a bit.

“Yeah,” (Y/N) said with a slight laugh. “I mean, you can’t hold onto high school forever, you know?”

Jennifer scoffed. “Tell me about it.” She looked around the room, and her eyes settled on Dean who was still standing at the table looking at the decorations like an idiot. (Y/N) couldn’t help the smile that creeped on her face once she followed her gaze. “God,” Jennifer said with a smile, making (Y/N) turn her head to look at her. “The way you guys look at each other is something else.” (Y/N) blushed and looked at Dean again. “I wish you could’ve seen him at the bar the other night,” she said. (Y/N) cocked her head to the side and smiled slightly.

“What are you talking about?” she said.

Jennifer laughed. “You were drunk off your ass, and he just looked at you like he had never seen anyone so perfect.” (Y/N)’s phone went off with a text message, so she picked it up to look at it. When she saw it was Charlie, she swiped it away and looked back at Jennifer. “Like that,” Jennifer said, motioning to the picture on her phone. “He looked at you like that the whole night.” (Y/N) bit her lower lip and slid her phone back into her pocket.

“I should go help him,” she said. “He looks like a lost puppy.” Jennifer chuckled and nodded, then gave (Y/N)’s arm a little squeeze.

“Let me know if you need anything,” she said.

“Yeah, you too,” (Y/N) said back. “You’re kicking ass planning all this.”

“You think?” she said, genuinely shocked at her comment.

“Are you kidding?” (Y/N) said. “It looks great. Tonight’s gonna be perfect.”

She left Jennifer with a wave and headed over to Dean. She felt so good. So happy. Almost giddy. So she couldn’t help but sneak up behind Dean and press a kiss to his cheek. Dean laughed lightly and put his arm around her waist. “What was that for?” he asked, pulling her close and pressing a kiss to her temple. “Just playing the part?”

She shrugged. “Just happy.”

Dean smiled down at her and grabbed a ladder that was propped up against the wall. They both walked into the hallway, getting ready to help decorate. Dean set up the ladder just as her phone went off again. She looked and saw she got another text from Charlie. She told Dean and he looked over her shoulder as she read them.

At 10:10, she sent Call me ASAP

15 minutes later, she sent ASAP means as soon as possible girl

She looked up at Dean and he nodded, so she called her. “Hey,” Charlie said as soon as she picked up. “We need you to check the principal’s office.”

“The principal’s office?” (Y/N) repeated. “Why?”

“He’s been MIA ever since the disappearances started,” Charlie said. “We’re wondering if we missed something. Cops are acting like something’s up.”

“Got it,” (Y/N) said. “I’ll call you if we find anything.”

She and Dean abandoned their post by the ladder and headed down the hall to the main office. It was unlocked, though there were no secretaries at the front desk. They continued walking and got to the principal’s office door. It was, as she expected, locked. Dean pulled out his lock pick kit and unlocked it with ease. When they got in the room, she shut the door quickly behind her. “What are we supposed to look for?” Dean asked.

“I don’t know,” she said, logging onto his computer. “Something suspicious I guess.”

“Vague,” Dean mumbled. He started sifting through some of the papers on the principal’s desk. She managed to get onto his email with ease, clicking through his various messages with little interest.

“I’m coming up short,” she said. “It looks like he took a vacation to Maui. I’m seeing legit confirmation emails and-”

She and Dean both heard the door to the main office open and close, and her heart caught in her chest. She quickly closed down the email browser, and as Dean set something down on the desk, he managed to knock over a paperweight and send it crashing to the ground. They looked at each other with wide eyes, knowing there was no way whoever was outside didn’t hear them. “Okay,” Dean breathed out, running a hand through his hair. “Here goes nothing.”

She furrowed her eyebrows, but Dean just took her hand, made her stand up from the chair, turned her around, and lifted her thighs to put her on her principal’s desk. She gasped when he, with no hesitation, smashed his lips against hers. Her hands immediately snaked around his neck as she held him close to herself, tugging her fingers through his hair. Dean growled against her lips and gripped her thigh in his hand, pulling her leg and wrapping it around his waist. His other hand cradled the back of her head and he fisted her hair in his grasp causing her to moan against his lips. Dean got lost in the moment and pressed his lower body closer to her just as the door to the principal’s office opened. Dean pulled away from her and wiped his thumb across his lower lip. She couldn’t even look at the person who came in. She rested the top of her head on Dean’s chest and stared down at the floor.

“Sorry,” Dean said, though he was doing a really good job at not sounding sorry. While her eyes were focused on the floor, she couldn’t help but notice the bulge in Dean’s jeans. Oh god. She did that? She had that effect on him?

He was that big?

She closed her eyes and swallowed thickly, trying to will away the feelings bubbling in her chest.

“You two shouldn’t be in here,” the person said. (Y/N) finally looked up and saw that it was the school’s janitor, probably coming in to clean out the trash bin.

“Right,” she said, jumping off the desk and pushing Dean away slightly. “We’ll just-” She cleared her throat. “Sorry about that.”

She quickly left the main office and put her forehead in her hands. “Oh my god,” she said to Dean once they were in the hallway. “That was mortifying.”

“Yeah, I’m not going to lie,” Dean said. “That is not how I planned that would go down. Sorry I just kind of, you know.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” she said, waving her hand dismissively. “It was, uh, it was a solid plan.” Dean nodded, and when she finally looked up at him, she couldn’t help but giggle.

“What?” he asked. She just shook her head and reached up, wiping some of her lipstick off his lips with her thumb and smoothing down his hair that had become ridiculously unruly from her tugging at it. She saw the way his smile was crinkling his eyes again, and it made her think of what Jennifer had said to her. She cleared her throat and stopped touching him, then motioned down the hallway.

“Let’s get to decorating.”

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

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[tuwam]

what you wanted.

received: how are you feeling? unsent: like ass unsent: uncomfortable unsent: sorry

he’s feeling better, he’s been feeling like ass trying to cover up all the missed assignments for finals. his body’s been buzzing low for the last few days so he can think. he can process. for the most part hyun’s been trying to run away from the thoughts and situations that caused his last blackout. the things that caused hyemi to text him with such concern. 

sent: better.

hyun’s moving between an on-going game ( that he’s currently losing ), an online exam ( that was due two weeks ago ) and his text message when a voice breaks over his shoulder.

‘who are you texting?’

hyun jumps the minute he hears the words and the headset almost falls off his head. yunho gets a kick out of that, replaced with the original curiosity that has him leaning down and looking over at the hyun’s phone. flustered, hyun does what he can to hide the message contents between the pads of his fingers and the cover of his sweater’s sleeves.

yunho, well he’s been on hyun’s tail even more than usual since his last episode. of course hyun doesn’t remember all the details of the episode as is usual he knows it must be something serious for hyemi to have to text him about his condition. embarrassing too because it means that she was present for it, as if he needs to give her any other reason to worry. it took quite some time for him to be okay answering her and while he was still fuzzy about the entire ordeal, yunho filled in the better parts of it for him. embarrassment aside hyun decided it was only fair to let her know he was indeed okay. yeah he was embarrassed to his core and probably vowing never to step foot in that coffee shop again, but he was okay.

‘must be someone important for you to jump like that.’

“it’s nothing, it’s just a friend.” he doesn’t know why he feels the need to lie about it. yunho gets this look on his face whenever hyun’s attention is elsewhere. he can’t describe it. it’s nothing ike when teachers know their students are playing games on their laptops. nothing like a parent telling a child to do dishes while they watch television. it’s similar, but deeper. rougher around the edges each time he tries to smile through it. hyun thinks he doesn’t quite like it. though maybe hyun just doesn’t like that after yunho’s look he’s found himself doing things he would never dream of. like, leaving the comfort of his room to go to a coffee shop.

the more hyun thinks about it the more he sinks further and further into the chair. yunho takes the opportunity to snatch up his phone, surely taking advantage of the fact that hyun is still too weak to really grab or ask for it back. instead he curls into the sound of his friends over the game, calling and demanding his attention to their battle. yunho’s thumbs scrolling through the messages sound louder than the clash of swords and power-ups and hyun can’t drown it out.

‘i meant to ask who she was. strange to see you paying attention to a girl.’ “she’s my friend.” it’s annoying, but whenever yunho talks to him hyun feels himself revert to his most basic emotions, the usual ones. vulnerable and petulant like a child, unable to hide anything and covering his body with his arms when he isn’t understood. it’s weird because there are times when he thinks yunho understands him the most, and times when he thinks the other doesn’t get him at all. 

how can he fault yunho though, hyun doesn’t even understand himself. 

‘a friend? does she know about you?’ hyun’s words stick in his throat, electricity dancing now at the blankets he pulls closer and closer. hyun can only shake his head, trying to redirect his discomfort. ‘friends are supposed to tell each other everything right?’ yunho voice feels so close, so invasive, as if he’s beside hyun’s ear. and hyun can’t move, won’t turn and meet that same grin that’s been bothering him for days. ‘you want to tell her don’t you?’

hyun can’t tell, if the words are accusatory. they sound accusatory. but then they also sound sweet. honey that’s maybe a bit bitter. each time yunho talks he finds his head swimming in possibilities, questions of what lies underneath it. 

he knows there’s something - something he probably can’t see or explain but it’s there. much liek the currents that dance underneath his skin, deep in his blood. it’s there each time his fingertips have to scratch at each other to calm down.

‘you want to be able to tell her everything don’t you tae?’

he wants to tell yunho not to call him tae.

‘go ahead, text her everything. i’m sure she’s worried.’

he wants to push the phone back, but his fingers grab for it. latch around when he gets it back. hyun knows, knows he shouldn’t even entertain the thought of telling hyemi about him. what he is, what he thinks he is. it’s the most basic command, the rule he’s followed dutifully for so long. now it seems so far away, so less wired and he’s opening the message before he can think.

‘tell her, how you can’t touch things without gloves. how you cause power outages when you sneeze. tell her how inhuman you are so her humanity can run away.’

static starts to flicker across the screen, words type themselves out and hyun feels himself resisting deeper, further away from the actions. he feels like he’s watching himself drown, watching his fingers move but not moving them.

sending...i’m not normal sending...i’m not human

the lights flicker around them. yunho’s grin remains wide, the arm he hadn’t noticed on his shoulder firm but featherlight. 

the doorbell rings.

the flickers stop. the phone falls.

hyun catches his head as the headache comes, as the static burns and itches under his skin. yelling, screaming. chaos in his blood and he can’t control it, can’t even explain it, soothe it. 

( ‘why are you here?’ ‘you can’t hide him forever yunho.’ )

thoughts go through his head and he can’t even reach for a comfort anymore. he doesn’t know if he wants to reach for yunho’s jacket again, bury his head against the older, or if he wants to call hyemi right now, run to her. tell her despite the turmoil it causes in him.

lights flicker again. appliances shake and turn on and off as the circuits crawl, escape and search.

( ‘what’s going on? what’d you do?’ ‘it’s none of your concern.’ ‘hyuntae is my concern.’ )

each circuit pulls in a different direction and it feels like his body tearing apart. hyun hears the sounds of his own moans, pain starting to seep into his skin as an ache settles in. as each rebound of electricity fills him with quivering loneliness, confusion crippling him further into a ball in the couch.

he doesn’t hear yunho, doesn’t see him approach the table. he wills the electricity not to rush, holds it inside him with labored breaths and trembling fingers. he wants, needs something. anything to calm them. breathing gets harder, controlling gets harder, and the chaos between the lights, the noises from everything surging with electricity going haywire, makes hyun’s mind numb.

he blanks. a current looses. and is caught. smoothed.

when his eyes open the sounds stop. the lights are fine, the static is all gone. there’s a hand in his hair, something warm wrapped around him and a pleasant scent in the air.

‘----are you out of your mind, do you know what could have happened?’

voices are muffled, recognizable though he doesn’t know why. doesn’t know why the first instinct is to reach up and hold the hand that’s brushing fingertips against his scalp.

‘he’s up.’ another recognizable voice. hyun wills his eyes to open so that the colors and blobs stop looking less like wires of black and white, and like people.

the hand he’s managed to grip holds on tighter and helps him sit up fully. it’s comforting, solid, hyun almost leans completely into it. he finds that his currents have already all rushed to his fingertips to hold onto and cling to this presence. it makes him want to force his eyes open even more, figure out who it is that have the circuits acting like children, yearning and running.

‘easy, you still blacked out.’ a familiar voice. familiar enough. he lets his tongue form the words before his mind can really catch up.

“jaehyun...hyung.....” a stiff moment, a stilled motion. the hand doesn’t move though, it still holds him as he sits up, as he can feel the blanket pulling tighter around him. someone’s in front of him adjusting the cover, still static and lines and black and white. the words still form.

“joo....won....” ‘hyung you brat.’

but it’s fond. if circuits could sing, hyun thinks that’s the noise his are making. it’s new. it’s all new.

‘breathe, open your eyes.’ ‘yunho....’ ‘relax, i’m helping him.’

hyun turns to the voice he knows for sure. everything in him telling him to shrink away.

but he can’t. he follows the words, leading and forming figures and faces of the people around him. the first one that he can make out is yunho, standing up and moving back the minute his eyes start to open. a smile much different from the ones hyun’s seen before, small and reserved on his face. he can’t take the time to analyze it because he’s pulled in each direction, turning to the figure that’d helped settle the blanket around his shoulders.

it’s the barista from before. but he’s more familiar than that. than an awkward interaction. it’s more important than that and even if hyun can’t place it or name it, he smiles. smiles because joo - joowon, is looking at him with hesitation, his entire body holding itself delicately. 

then there’s the hands that are holding him steady. hyun’s head rises up, meets the same eyes that’d looked at him with pain. the same eyes he’d seen before his last blackout. the same rush of emotion that he can’t explain but he know its hurts.

jaehyun.

hyun feels himself mouth the name. thinks he’s said it out loud. he thinks he’s seeing a smile but he’s still a little fuzzy on everything. sight. balance. knowledge. if it weren’t for all the currents in his body clinging to each spot that jaehyun’s hands rest, he’s sure he’d have fallen again. in fact, hyun is so sure that if he were to fall, his currents wouldn’t let go. it’s a scary thought, but it brings comfort. a strange but reassuring comfort.

‘how are you feeling?’ jaehyun is asking him. hyun can still feel everyone’s eyes on him and instead of shrinking further away, he feels warm, feels a shiver as the electricity dances. his head still hurts, the more he tries to think about what caused it and what exactly is going on, the more it burns. at the same time he feels overwhelmed in a way he doesn’t want to escape. a little like when hyemi managed to hold his hand the entire walk to the coffee shop. much like him winning an impromptu tournament with his online team and no one batting an eye when they met him in person.

it’s overwhelming, he’s dizzy with something warm bubbling in his chest, tickling his skin in a way he’s never quite felt from his circuits.

and it makes him smile. it’s weak, a little lopsided because he’s not used to it but it’s a smile. because he gets one back from each of them. one bright and silly from the barista. one fond and comforting from the one who’d tackled him. and one, sheepish but relieved from yunho.

it all says so much and it’s all bouncing from him, depending on him. hyun swallows the uneasiness away and pulls the blanket until he’s cocooned properly, calming his body from going into shock at all the blatant affection.

“better.” 

[nerdgenie]

Ashburn sails

In celebration of the upcoming kiss that will probably kill us all, I put down all the things that made me love Ashburn.

They started off in a veeeerrrryy cute sexy way with Ash’s cock sure grin kick the chair out in invitation for Michael to join him teasing yet respectful flirting to Michael’s confused what am I feeling should I be feeling this this is not logical I don’t know how to act around him we should keep this professional but he is very interesting and I like spending time with him dynamics that had me smiling at my TV whenever they’re on screen together.

Their attraction evolved into something deeper as their relationship progressed. Ash helped Michael to be more human– to be more open and in touch with her emotions. Her eyes smiled when she was with Ash. Michael helped Ash heal and find peace after all that he went through. He put up a front around others, but he showed his pain to Michael.

Ash declared not only to protect Michael but to love her No. Matter. What. Michael Said. It. Back.

Another note on the protection thing. Ash is kind of a superhero. 30 something kills over Lorca’s 20ish kills. He is very capable, but he is not afraid to be vulnerable. He knows Michael is smart, strong and just as or maybe even more capable, and he was never threatened by that. Michael was always that one cradling him, and that was refreshing to see on TV.

As much as Michael took care of Ash, Ash did the same for Michael. He was very excited about Lake Shasta, but when Michael reminded him she was going back to prison after the war, Ash responded that maybe the war doesn’t have to end. As much as the needs of the many are important, the needs of the few (or the one) are important too. Michael was important. I think that assertion that early on in her redemption arc meant a lot to Michael.

They were each other’s home. The mirror universe took a toll on Michael. Ash was her reprieve. Ash was her anchor to herself.

I honestly thought the whole Voq mess would be the end of Ashburn. I grieved. When Ash lashed out at Michael, I was turned off. I thought that was the end of my love for Ash Tyler. But then “I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing this for… Starfleet.” Damn, my boy is back! He realized his mistake, listened to Michael and respected what she wanted.

Listen, I never blamed Ash for Voq’s actions. It was painful to watch, but I was always of the mind that Ash was a victim. He was kidnapped and violated. What happened to him was incomprehensible. I even understood why he didn’t tell Michael when he was starting to notice things were off. It was wrong, yes, but it was also a very human thing to do. He was scared so he hid it. What I didn’t like was the whole “you can’t leave me I was a victim you don’t know how to love” meltdown he had when Michael broke up with him. However, the more I thought about it, I realized that Ash was confused and scared. The one he loved the most, the one he wanted to be human for was leaving him. He didn’t think he could ever be okay without Michael so he lashed out. But Michael, the queen that she is, stood her ground and left. Ash was alone. He had no choice but to do it alone. So he did. While Ash and Voq were having their internal battle, I don’t think Ash really considered having to redeem himself. He was focused on surviving and wanting to make sure that Michael was okay. It stopped there. Michael leaving was the spark that lit Ash’s realization that he needed to make amends. He needed to find himself again and rebuild. My love for Ash was restored and increased exponentially by this point, so I was back to grieving Ashburn because Michael was over it.

But them Michael opened up about her parents to Ash. Correct me if I’m wrong but this very important insight about Michael was never revealed before in the series at this point. The show’s main character told another character something very important about herself for the first time ever in the show. If that does not scream the relationship of these two characters are important to us I don’t know what does.

Ash decided to go with L’rell to Kronos. Yay for Ash’s redemption, eeewww for everything else. Michael’s surprised face. Michael was obviously planning to be separated from Ash until their individual redemption arcs were complete and they were both healthy human beings then maybe try or not try the relationship again but that’s okay since they will still be in the same ship and breathing the same recycled air. Ash leaving Discovery was not something Michael wanted.

Bowline. Nuff said.

“To me, Tyler, it feels like violation.” I never really empathized with L’rell.

“I need to take this call”

The awkward small talk. The longing. Ash wanting to end the call after the official business had been taken cared off as it physically pained him to talk to Michael this way and not love her the way he wanted. Michael wanting to hold on to and prolong whatever moment she can with Ash.

The way the scene was shot. The narrative is convincing enough of Ashburn. The juxtaposition of their locations during their call was just an added bonus-- the show telling us that these two are their starcrossed lovers, the love story (among all the other wonderful stories) they wanted to tell.

Michael’s reaction to seeing Ash. She was thrown again. She already accepted that Ash’s and her paths were different. She belonged on the Discovery while Ash chose Kronos. Our boy really needs to stop surprising our girl and start discussing major life decisions with her soon. No matter, we will get to that at some point. 

“It’s good to see you.” “I feel the same”

Michael walked it to the bridge and locked eyes with Ash. Strictly professional interactions blah blah blah. The camera panned from Michael to Ash. The two shared a look. Crumbs. But I’ll take it.

“I was in love with her, and she was not entirely disinterested in me.” Was. Ha! Sure, keep telling yourself that. Ash knows he loves Michael. He admits it, but he is not allowing himself to feel the full force of his love because he needs to be okay without her. It’s the same thing when he wanted to end their call ASAP. It’s his I need to be able to function without her in my life strategy. Also, not presuming to speak for Michael by saying she loved him to. I stan a man who respects a woman's own agency.

Ash’s faith in Michael. He will always choose Michael over everything else, including his new home where he thinks he can belong to. I don’t think I need to say how huge that is for someone who is struggling for a place in the universe, but there. I said it.

Michael’s unwavering faith in Ash. She believes him without a doubt despite being presented evidence that incriminates Ash.

In season one, Michael was closed off, had no rank and was Starfleet’s most famous mutineer. She was at her lowest point. Ash reached out to her or rather kicked out a chair for her to sit with him and showed her she is worthy by believing in and loving her. Season two reverses their roles. Ash is at his lowest point now. He is keeping his feelings for Michael bottled up. He doesn’t fully understand who he is, and he lives with the guilt and stigma of Voq’s actions. Michael is the one reaching out now. She will show Ash he is worthy by believing in him when no one else does.

I honestly don’t know what will happen to these two. We will get an epic kiss for sure, but other than that I don’t know if these two will get married and have five babies, one set of twins and one set of triplets, and live happily ever after exploring deep space where no one has gone before in a new ship where Michael is captain and Ash is her no. 1. All I know is that these two are an epic love story. They are the love story that Star Trek Discovery is telling us.

BONUS: Daddy Pike: "What is going on with you two? And don't say nothing because I am totally sensing a vibe. Tyler, you are confined to quarters. Burnham, I order you to not go near him"

[kiruuuuu]

Bandit/Vigil oneshot in which Vigil recuperates and Bandit is detrimental? (Rating M, angst, hurt/comfort, mentions of torture, ~3.9k words) - written for @blitznbandit as a Christmas present 💞💞 I didn’t mean for it to get this dark but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. Best wishes and Merry Christmas! :)

.

He returns fragmented. Having lost pieces along the way, parts of him damaged, he’s less than before. Less human, less capable, less trusting. A few chunks were beaten out of him, knocking others loose in the process and therefore he’s hesitant to ask for help in patching the holes, in case someone isn’t careful enough and makes it worse.

Though it doesn’t feel as if it could get any worse.

Visual representations of his state adorn him, discolouration of skin, tears, cuts, attempts at extracting the highly sought-after information through his outer shell though they didn’t manage to pull it out of his flesh. They tried, however. Most of it is unnatural, he supposes, frightful even, renders him fragile-looking when his mind has never been as stony as it is now. He won’t break, might splinter and chip in places, but he won’t shatter. He hasn’t so far. He’s not going to now.

Dokkaebi cries. She just stands before him and lets tear after tear roll over her cheeks, unsuccessfully trying to muffle her sobs and he’s lost, misplaced his script on what to do now, how to react, and there’s no teleprompter or anyone taking charge, so they stand there: Dokkaebi crying and him fighting one of the waves bringing blurriness and further detachment which have become so intimately familiar to him by now. The whole scene might as well be a video on a screen, despite the fact that the wet ground smells of grass and cool air surrounds him.

The scenery changes, someone pulls the slim woman away and another silhouette by his side gently leads him across a canvas of places, all of them unreal and not registering in his head though less shrill than the sterile, smelly white ones in which he spent … an undetermined amount of time. He doesn’t know which day it is.

Voices underwater pose questions his subconscious knows the answer to and therefore he’s able to keep up a semblance of normalcy while his thoughts repeat the endless litany of wanting to sleep. Wanting to go home. Wanting to feel safe again. Wanting to remember what it’s like to feel. At certain points, there’s absence of sound and it makes him itchy, raises his alertness without contributing to clearing his mind and thus leaves him skittish, so it’s no surprise than he flinches violently at a small touch. He’s up on his feet immediately, turned towards his threat who isn’t a threat at all, he knows this person, can conjure up their image in his head yet couldn’t tell who it is or from where he knows them. Relaxing is hard when he’s not sure of the identity of this person, but the guy in scrubs – it’s a doctor – no, it’s Doc – says his name, Gilles, and it could be someone or it could be no one.

His fight response has been triggered and so his system is painfully vigilant even when he’s suddenly sitting down again and he idly wonders whether he’ll ever feel like anyone at all again.

.

He’s a foreign body, bumbling uselessly and getting in people’s way while they, somehow, he has no idea how, go about their lives. Imitating them is impossible as simple interactions drain him to a worrying degree, so treating his own existence as an inevitable misfortune with which all of them are stuck seems to be the only alternative. If speaking wasn’t such a chore, he’d apologise the whole day. Keeping out of sight and turning himself invisible is his preferred course of action even if it means some people startle at him walking into their peripheral vision as if he was a ghost.

By now, he’s begun to sort experiences into boxes. Not being able to trust his own memory is at best unpleasant and at worst wholly disorienting and disturbing, so he endeavours to fill the gaps and shave off excess. Some of it undeniably happened as he’s carrying the proof on his body, even if he doesn’t recall a blowtorch, while other details are strikingly vivid yet make no sense. He was held underground, not in a forest and still, he feels thick, wet leaves caress his skin and branches snap under his sole. No, there were no windows nor any indication as to his location, the photos show him what he might’ve seen in a film once yet nothing he recognises. But he drowned. In the dry cellar, forbidden to wash himself, every drop sacred, he could’ve drowned. It certainly felt like it and the cruel irony of wanting to drink it all, the knowledge it won’t kill him didn’t make it better. He’s started exclusively taking baths. He doesn’t like the feel of water on his face.

Compartmentalising helps, albeit it’s a double-edged sword as it further alienates him from those who appear to need him most. The causality of it is puzzling as he’s fine by himself yet it’s others who seek him out nonetheless, require assurances and an affirmation that they’re doing all they can. They’re the ones needing a pat on the back but he unlearned it all, so all he earns is concern at his empty stares. He begins avoiding them, the only exception being Blackbeard – the American’s voice is unimpeded by his silence, penetrates the sound barrier erected in self-defence and fills his head with words, phrases, ideas which resonate with something forgotten inside him. Blackbeard is familiar and calming and no one would guess he’s talking to a husk with how animatedly he gestures and slowly, slowly, his utterances begin to develop meaning.

.

Vigil starts healing. It’s a multi-faceted process and accompanied by a significant amount of itching, both outside and inside. His senses return to him in a more conscious fashion than simply identifying potential dangers in his vicinity and his body’s ability to obey improves though it’s still held back by overpowering fatigue; at least there are no more dizzy spells or involuntary movements. Not as many anyway. The variety of injuries invite him to scratch, especially the blisters and the scabs, the freshly opened ones – usually a result of carelessness or a motion too extreme – send out white hot, pulsing signals impossible to ignore. He becomes intimately familiar with every visible piece of writing in Doc’s office as he reads it over and over and over again. Reading anything other than single words and simple sentences is too much.

His sleep is restless and the source of most of his frustration as the exhaustion turning him sluggish and numbing his limbs is omnipresent yet relief unattainable. Sometimes, he wants to scream and thrash, pound the mattress with his fists because it’s so unfair, he’s tired, it’s dark, why won’t it work, why won’t it work why won’t it work why won’t it work why won’t it work – furious, he feels pressure on his eyes and gets up, resists the urge to put his fist through something and walks until he’s light-headed, tries push-ups on his elbows, feels stitches and bandages pull on his skin. And even when darkness does envelop him, brilliant dreams ensure he wakes up sweat-soaked and gasping for air.

He dreams of him. And in a way it’s more terrifying than just re-living memories.

.

Before he – before it all happened, he caught the eye of a predator. Felt slitted pupils lazily glide over to him, unfocused and slow as he poses no threat, was unhurriedly yet thoroughly studied and classified as easy prey. To this day, he’s unsure what made him stand out, which of his eccentricities painted a large target on his back causing claws to bury themselves in his vulnerable torso. He was hunted down and slain for sport, he assumes, incapable of defending himself; only then the dangerous creature did develop an appetite after all. Devoured whole, Vigil cowered, obeyed, surrendered.

His memories convince him that he enjoyed it. Basked in the unexpected attention, revelled in a deluge of foreign sensations, released tension under experienced fingertips ghosting over him. Every single instance lasted at least an hour and he thought each the last one, anticipated being deprived of this… this frenzied feeding sooner rather than later, yet repetition tricked his mind into believing it’d become a habit. In a way, he wasn’t wrong: it was a regular occurrence, the intervals shrinking continuously until he couldn’t reasonably predict the next one anymore, merely waited for it to happen excitedly.

The anticipation has vanished completely now. It’s been replaced by a stoic dread he insistently denies and the pleasant memories are sullied by his dreams. He would prefer to limit his nightly terrors to the faceless monsters who – who did all this to him, who altered his very being, yet they’re not the ones holding him down, kicking and slapping, trying to force him to betray the very organisation which eventually came to his rescue. It’s not them. It’s him.

.

Training is hell, icy fire licking the insides of his lungs, inflamed muscles hindering his every move. He needs to, needs to catch up on all he missed after having spent too much time idling fruitlessly, hoping moronically for everything to sort itself out somehow, as if there was a spirit for broken minds who could mend them with a flick of its wrist. If such a thing exists, it must be very busy.

No one can help him but himself, especially not the woman he’s meant to trust and tell everything that happened. She’s trying to be comforting and soft but comes across as otherworldly, shapeless and inconsequential – time and time again she brings up topics Vigil feels are entirely irrelevant and meets his badly suppressed anger with pretentious understanding, advises inane exercises he refuses to do in his spare time and hovers just around the edge of actually reaching him. Blackbeard breaks through nonchalantly, acts as if nothing has changed while picking up bits and pieces, distractedly putting them back where they belong without mentioning it. Vigil much prefers his company.

In time, Dokkaebi finds it in herself to grow cold as well, shield herself and meet his downcast gaze and inaudible words with her usual boisterous behaviour, complaining about him taking too long with everything, eating, walking, healing, and her impatience and lack of compassion help him redefine himself as more than just a victim. He remains an operator, abilities tried and tested, and therefore expecting him to function as one is reasonable; he needs to pull himself together. So he trains. And keeps failing.

The whole atmosphere shifts as soon as he enters the room. Silently, he moves and manages to steal Vigil’s breath despite his casual demeanour, causes an adrenaline rush unlike any other he’s recently felt. He’s trapped, alone, for the first time sharing space with him on his own since he came back and it’s terrifying. Golden brown eyes petrify him, lock him into place and there’s no doubt he’s here for Vigil. Probably feels like he’s given him enough time to recuperate, now he’ll demand his share once more, sink his teeth deep and leave him behind bleeding. So far, he’s kept his distance, didn’t even grace his mark with a single glance. For what felt like weeks.

Vigil needs something to do, mind aflutter in panic, and despite every cell in his body urging him to escape, slip away and hope he won’t pursue, he decides to be proactive. To him, it feels like the first choice he’s made in a while. Lying down on the nearest bench panders to his persistent fatigue and yet it hinders him not at this moment for the heady rush of danger encompassing him counteracts his usual exhaustion. “Spot me”, he demands and wraps his fingers around the cool metal bar above him.

The hairs on the back of his neck rise proportionally to how near he is and when Bandit comes to a halt right behind him, he nearly trembles. They study each other motionlessly and for an eternity, Bandit looking down, Vigil looking up. “You’re too weak”, an accented voice informs him though hands contradict it, reach out, ready to support if necessary. Vigil averts his gaze and lifts the weight, brings it into the correct position and lets the familiar feel calm him – this, he knows how to do.

“I’m not”, he protests because he can and couldn’t tell when he last said no to anyone. Repetition and concentration both put his thoughts to rest and occupy him, render him complacent as he watches two pairs of hands rise and fall gently, one of them radiating volatile energy, threatening to turn on him any second, cover his eyes, punch his throat, hold his mouth and nose shut.

He’s scared.

And then something does go wrong, a sharp pain pierces his consciousness and reflective silver fills his vision; the bar came to a stop alarmingly close to his face, mere centimetres from possibly finishing what was started a while ago. His head wound still isn’t healed fully. Dumbly, he stares at it as if mere thought could make it vanish, then capable arms work to return the weight to its rightful place. And he tells him in a judging tone: “Don’t overexert yourself.” Before Vigil can even consider talking back, more words are tacked onto the presumptuous statement: “Start easy. You’re not used to it anymore.”

And this is when it tilts over. His rage is partially unfounded, Bandit has no control over his dreams, can’t influence what his dream self does yet is solely responsible for staying away all this time – his actions, or rather the lack thereof, cut deeper than Vigil was aware, fuelled an underlying self-consciousness and insecurity. He felt discarded, unworthy, and now that he’s in better physical shape Bandit seeks him out again? Hardly a coincidence. He must’ve enjoyed how submissive Vigil was, how responsive, but felt no urge to to accept the responsibility which comes with commitment. Where were you?, Vigil wants to spit in his face, Where were you when I needed you most? I’m no toy. I’m not at your mercy. I’m not to be abandoned like this.

His fury both causes accusations to bubble up in him and holds his tongue, a learned reflex to any extreme emotion. He’s long cut off the spikes in his moods, mellowed them out so no extremes happen, keeps it all safe and sound in the middle. Sitting up, he notices his hands shaking. He’s not afraid of him anymore, somehow knows Bandit will never go as far as his projection did repeatedly, not when he’s this passive, this passionless about him. All that time he always set aside seemed to have been a lie, a convenience. He was a fool to believe it to be more.

“I missed you.”

Resisting the impulse to spew I was right here is difficult but possible. Instead, he allows a question to see the light of day which has been eating away at him for a while. “Why me?” He’s long ceased to pose it in relation to tragedies, long accepted the fact he will never know the answer. Coincidences are free of judgement, his place of birth pure chance, his capture an unfortunate event – none of it specifically geared towards breaking his spirit by a higher power or the universe itself. However, this time it might yield an answer. He sincerely hopes it does, yet with every passing second in which Bandit mutely regards him with an unreadable expression, the probability decreases. “You can have anyone.”

“But I don’t want anyone.”

The message is clear though its origin nebulous. But why. Why me. Upset, confused and upset over his confusion, he attempts to flee the conversation, extract himself as he’s unsure how to face this man, how to deal with his own emotions. Getting past Bandit proves impossible though, the slim figure is an unsurmountable obstacle, soft eyes fixing him in place and a tentatively outstretched hand has him flinch first, then accept the touch of a palm on his elbow, travelling up until it comes into contact with his still discoloured jaw. Turning away is futile, fingers wrap around his own and then a body moulds itself around him despite his resistance. He’s suffocating, refuses to breathe in this wild scent of blood, sweat and hunger, realises too late he smells the same.

Bandit waits until his thrashing has subsided, patiently holds on as if he knew what he was doing. Eventually, exhaustion drives Vigil into the arms of his hunter and he relents at the cost of his sanity, dignity, sense of self-worth. Accepting warmth and human contact is surprisingly arduous but the pay-off staggering: he thaws, he melts, he dissolves under gentle hands, in a loose embrace, and its realness leaves him reeling. Logic tells him he possesses the same body heat, must feel nice to Bandit or else he would’ve withdrawn already, yet the idea of him feeling as good as Bandit does to him now is unimaginable. He needs more.

A quiet plea is met with hesitation at first, but when he emphasises it, Bandit nods. “Let’s go then”, he says, voice shaky.

.

Before even any fabric is shed, Vigil starts to struggle. His side is still sensitive, so he forcibly removes Bandit’s hand when it brushes over it, he doesn’t enjoy the feel of the tongue on his collarbone and pushes his head away, yanks at clothing to keep the German half off him. Though it’s thrilling and the low pulsing need permeating his being is the sharpest feeling he’s had for a while, he’s worried about showing his mutilated body, about evoking disgust instead of lust, about memories of sadistic grins and fire and needles and fists and water taking control of him. His subconscious fear manifests in the turning away of his head, in refusal to make eye contact, in jerks and light kicks and shoving.

“Do you want me to stop?”, Bandit asks and kisses the hand he caught as if it hadn’t tried to pull on his hair. No judgement in his inquiry, strangely enough. He would actually stop. There is no doubt.

A violent shudder seizes his body and he couldn’t tell whether it’s born from pleasure or dismay. The lips are ticklish and he doesn’t think he’d survive it if Bandit rejected him. “No.” He surprises himself with the response; the safer option would be to give up, not even allowing for the chance to harm himself further by ruining the one hopeful thing in his life at the moment, yet the drive to feel human again is too powerful.

So Bandit continues, undeterred by the resistance he faces and – it’s different to the times before, softer, more patient. At first it seems as if he, too, believes Vigil to be fragile and therefore takes certain precautions, isn’t as rough as he was previously, but the more time passes the more one undeniable truth crystallises and makes Vigil’s heart come alive: Bandit isn’t treating him like something delicate. He’s treating him like something precious.

His caresses don’t shy away from faded bruises or bandages, touches actively follow scarring unless Vigil displays discomfort, and though he’s careful, he’s far from tentative – repeatedly, he unintentionally causes stabs of pain hindering Vigil’s attempts to wholly give himself up and revel in the familiar affections. In response, Vigil lashes out on a small scale, bites a little too hard, scratches instead of stroking skin, and never once earns any form of protest. Bandit allows him to fight back mostly symbolically, something he was never able to do in the hands of his captors. He loses his inhibitions and wonders why it feels so good to inflict pain, ponders whether it’s linked to Bandit not paying him any attention while his mind was heavily impeded, when it hits him out of the blue.

A kiss to the top of his head makes him smile, stretches his lips all by itself. During a small break, he marvels at Bandit’s body. He even takes the initiative at some point and is rewarded with an almost enamoured gaze in return which drags something in his chest to the surface; something he was sure to have lost. They draw meaningless patterns on skin lazily, let their whims decide on what they do, and it’s peaceful.

Vigil feels like himself again. Not entirely, he hasn’t reverted back to his old self, that would be nothing short of a miracle, but his sense of self has returned – he is Chul Kyung Hwa, he is Vigil, he is part of the White Tigers and Rainbow and right now, he is here because he wants to be. And he will not let misfortune define him.

.

A careless remark, nothing more, Blackbeard’s usual dry humour showcased in a blunt comment and yet its utter lack of respect is scandalising and amusing enough for Vigil to laugh. Not a loud, full-bellied laugh which could hope to compete with the American’s, no, a quiet chuckle rather but an expression of entertainment nonetheless. They’re eating together and Vigil is picky, has traded parts of it with his teammate and others, approaching them first. Bending his mouth around pleasantries remains a feat he has yet to master but even so, it’s met with genuine friendliness and relief he generously overlooks.

Dokkaebi picks up on it immediately, abandoning her conversation to grace him with a meaningful smirk. “You just laughed”, she states triumphantly as if it was her own achievement.

Days ago, he wouldn’t have replied but he’s come to realise once more that he likes her, enjoys her company. Looking back, he feels bad about not reassuring her the day he returned, piling on to her already overwhelming grief. He admits: “I feel better.”

She nods; it must be glaringly obvious. “Must be contagious, even Dom smiled at me earlier.”

“Is that noteworthy?”

“He’s had it rough too.” His expression must display some of his disbelief for Dokkaebi explains herself: “He was with us the entire time we tried to find you, probably put in more hours than even Craig. And then, when you got rescued, you… I don’t know what you were on, I wasn’t there. But you were terrified of him – of them all, but him the most. I think it hurt him. Doc told him to stay away from you for a while, just in case.”

Dreams tightly intertwined with memories, forming an entirely unfair and inaccurate hybrid which painted Bandit in a much harsher light than he deserved. He never was a predator, Vigil never his prey, and while he was indeed devoured, it was preceded by awkward half-conversations and uncertain gestures; the time they spent together valuable to both of them. He’s been unjust.

“But he seems better now, and so do you. Maybe you should talk to him.”

“Yes”, Vigil agrees readily, startling her into silence. “Maybe I should.”

When Bandit and he finally make eye contact across the room after a lot of furtive glances, Vigil presents him with a tentative smile. And is not at all prepared for the wide one he’s granted in return.

[hiddlesgirl]

SH 316: Stay With Me

This episode was one hell of an emotional rollercoaster and I think that it is one of the best episodes of 3B; packed with emotion, fantastically shot scenes and progressing storylines. It was very well written and directed, so much of the dialogue and visuals enhanced the scenes and were really emotionally provocative. Malec, especially Alec, absolutely destroyed me; I think this is was one of Matt’s best performances of the show, the amount of emotion he continuously put out and the vulnerability of Alec was astounding.

I am already crying because we know that the dance scene happens in Magnus’ mind, and while I was slightly disappointed that it wasn’t happening in reality the scene its self is so beautiful. I love the little moment of them eating breakfast together too, and their discussion of dancing in Havana; Aisha, who wrote the episode, confirmed on Twitter that Magnus and Alec did actually go dancing in Havana which is awesome.

The actual dance scene was perfection. The choreography, Matt and Harry’s performances (not just the dance, but the acting, them looking at each other), the song, the lighting and the way it was shot. It was amazing. We also learned via Twitter that the dance was based on the dance a gay couple performed at their wedding, it was taught to Matt and Harry via Skype and then they had a choreographer on hand in Toronto to help. The whole process is amazing. Plus, Matt has never really danced before, he was very nervous and was scared we wouldn’t like it; he was fantastic. I don’t think we could have wished for a better dance scene. (Hopefully we will be getting another one, which happens in reality, when they get married).

The last moments of the scene are heartbreaking, Magnus becoming limp, Alec’s ‘stay with me’ and their twirling getting faster. The slipping of their hands, Magnus in the dark and Alec in the light; it was soul crushingly beautiful. The symbolism of the dark and light was incredible; the duality of Heaven and Hell, Angel and Demon, but also Magnus’ slipping away into darkness and Alec being the light trying to bring him back. The entire scene was just too incredible to accurately describe in words.

My heart breaks even more when the scene changes back to reality and we see Alec desperately talking to and giving Magnus CPR, he is trying everything he can to keep Magnus alive. He then watches as Catarina uses magic to save Magnus, he is talking to Magnus the entire time. I am crying so much at this point because Alec’s constant stream of reassurances and begging to Magnus is ripping my heart out, you can hear his fear in his voice.

The infirmary scene is so heartbreaking, Matt’s acting in this scene is impeccable; the absolute fear, guilt, desperation and despair he is able to convey is amazing. Alec blames himself because he didn’t look deeper to see the truth of how Magnus was feeling, he feels selfish because he was happy that they might grow old together. In their relationship, Magnus’ immortality has been a hurdle for them and mostly for Alec to come to terms with ageing while Magnus’ doesn’t. To be faced with the reality that they may grow old together, it is understandable that Alec was happy about that future, for them to be each other’s future and last love.

He is pinching the skin on his hands and I love how much attention to detail and consistency Matt keeps with Alec, whenever Alec feels guilt for anything he tends to injure his hands. When Jace left he was using punching bags, after he was possessed he used his bow until his hands bled; he has this tendency of self harm and I like that they are keeping it consistent. However I do wish that they would properly address Alec’s mental health because this consistent self harming behaviour just shows that, especially in times of stress, he is still struggling.

He hates that he didn’t see how much Magnus was suffering; he blames himself for not being able to see through the mask and be a full support for Magnus during this time. He thinks that if he had known then this might not have happened. The line ‘Magnus I love you, more than anyone in the world’ absolutely breaks me, Alec never thought he would have romantic love but now he loves this man with his entire being and cannot begin to imagine a life without him. I also love that Alec holds Magnus’ hand in his, needing that physical reassurance that Magnus is still there and to have the comfort of his touch, while trying to give Magnus comfort too.

Alec is furious at Lorenzo, believing that he did the transfusion with the hope of causing Magnus harm; I absolutely do not blame Alec for thinking this. Lorenzo has proven time and again that he hates Magnus and will do anything to hurt him whenever the opportunity presents itself. Unfortunately, only the warlock who gave the magic can take it back. Alec’s anger is completely understandable, Magnus’ life is in danger because of the same man who took credit for his actions, depraved him of help from others and took his apartment; Alec feels nothing but contempt towards this person who persistently tries to hurt Magnus.

My heart hurts for Clary, to see someone she thought of as invincible look so vulnerable is unnerving and to realise that she almost lost him and she didn’t know must be upsetting. I am not fond of the wording of the line ‘first Luke goes to prison and now this’ because it came of very self centred, making Magnus’ situation about herself; I know that it was not intended this way, it was just intended to show how much Clary feels like the world is falling apart, but I can’t help how it sounded to me.

I understand why she lashed out at Simon, she was full of negative emotion which was fuelled by the rune; however I wished she had apologised because it was completely uncalled for to lash out at someone trying to offer you comfort. Even more so because Simon is upset and suffering too, Luke is his father figure and Magnus is his friend too.

I really did not like that they asked Catarina to summon Lilith; I know that she is there and that they trust her but really?! I hate that they disturbed her, asked her to expend a lot of energy summoning a dangerous greater demon, trying to take her away from Magnus’ bedside when she was trying to care for him after he just almost died!

I hate seeing Lorenzo’s stuff in Magnus apartment, and Lorenzo is drinking a martini (which is much more a Magnus drink, I don’t think we have ever seen Lorenzo drink one before) and to me this comes off very much that Lorenzo wants to be Magnus, wants to have what he has. I love that Alec is having none of Lorenzo’s nonsense and turns off his music, and the disgruntled look on his face as Lorenzo helps himself to Magnus’ drink cart.

We finally learn that Lorenzo’s vendetta against Magnus is purely fuelled by jealousy; I did suspect this because Magnus is not the type of person to have caused someone enough grievances to hold a grudge. He is clearly jealous of Magnus’ power that is a result of his parentage and the fact that other warlocks genuinely care for him, he speaks as though Magnus has never experiences hardship and it becomes clear that he has built up Magnus in his head as a villain who has had an easy life with everything handed to him, which could not be further from the truth.

Lorenzo shows absolutely no remorse or sympathy towards Alec and even sounds glad that Magnus is in such as position, and possibly even looks forward to his possible death; it seems that to him, if Magnus dies the other warlocks will shift their love to him, but of course that is ridiculous. His blasé behaviour understandable angers Alec, to hear Lorenzo implicate Magnus’ death enrages him.

Lorenzo’s magical attack snaps him out of his anger and all he feels in that moment is desperation, the need to do whatever it takes to save Magnus; so he changes his approach. He allows himself to become emotional and try to appeal to Lorenzo’s humanity, to get Lorenzo to forget that it’s Magnus and just see someone trying to save the life of someone they love. The line ‘Magnus, he is my world’ makes me cry, Magnus had become the centre of Alec’s world and to lose him would destroy him.

Matt’s acting and body language really sells this scene; you can see Alec’s entire posture change from aggressive and forceful to vulnerable and submissive, it really shows Alec warring emotions. You can see a moment of humanity from Lorenzo upon seeing Alec’s breakdown, you can see that he can identify with the fear of losing someone and that he may feel sympathy for Alec in that moment.

I enjoyed the scene between the Seelie Queen and Jonathan, it had this tension running through it and this undercurrent that I can’t put my finger on, but I couldn’t take my eyes off the screen. The Seelie Queen once again shows her cunning and willingness to quickly change direction when it suits her and when she will get something out of it, this makes her more dangerous because she doesn’t always stick to one idea, and as soon as she spots a new opportunity she will change her mind.

Kimberly was great and I am excited to see more of her, I think that to take on the role of the adult Seelie Queen is made more of a challenge because it has been played by two other actress. You have to be able to carry over some of their posture, mannerisms and speech to convey that even though their appearances changes they are all the same character.

I love that Maryse is visiting Luke; I really hope that we continue to see their relationship progress and I cannot wait to see Alec, Izzy, Jace, Clary and Simon to find out about their kiss. She is concerned about him turning while he is in prison, she knows how much stress he is bound to be under and she doesn’t want him to endanger himself further by shifting. Luke reassures her, he knew what he was getting into and has good control over his emotions, and he believes he will be able to cope.

I really like that Maryse has bought the book shop, it enables her to stay part of the Shadow World in a small way because Elliot was bound to have many Shadow World artefacts and customers. It gives her purpose and it is a job she can do that doesn’t require any mundane skills or education like many other jobs. I am happy that she is finding her way.

Luke doesn’t want her to visit because he doesn’t want to hold her back from creating a new life, he wants her to move forward and be happy; he believes that she cannot do that while she is still visiting and holding onto him. He is pushing away everyone he cares about, whether this is because he wants them to move on or because he believes that he doesn’t deserve their love I’m not sure. Maryse refuses to be pushed away, she is going to be there to support him; she feels guilty for shunning him after he turned and she is not going to turn her back on him a second time.

I really like the Sizzy scene, they have always had a great bond and friendship; offering support without judgement through some of their darkest times. For Izzy it was her addiction and for Simon it was the situation between Heidi and his family. I think that this friendship and their bonding through these moments are going to be the foundation for a beautiful relationship to bloom.

I understand why they both feel like they want to abstain from romantic relationships; for Simon both his relationships have ended because there wasn’t enough romantic love or connection, while they still care about each other the love they felt fizzled out. For Izzy, the first person she felt a genuine connection with was also a toxic relationship for both of them because of their addictions, and in the end it only caused her pain. The pinky promise was just adorable.

Cain is terrified to face Lilith, she was able to manipulate him once and the consequences were disastrous; as a result he has spent his entire, centuries, of life hiding away. He is so full of guilt, fear and self doubt; I am so happy that we are seeing more of Cain and Pasha who plays him, he is such a great actor, the emotion he portrays is so genuine and raw.

Simon identifies with Cain because he understands the guilt of hurting the ones you love in the worst ways, he also sees what his future could have been if he had not have been able to remove the mark. He feels sympathy and a kinship with Cain, he wants him to know that he is not alone and that Simon will help him in any way he can.

I really like Simon’s line about facing your demons, he knows from experience that you can’t hide forever and if you don’t face your fears they will control you. He wants to free Cain from this paralysing fear, he wants him to have the strength to face the woman who took everything from him.

I love the little moment of Magnus waking up, Alec saying ‘There you are’ and gently turning Magnus’ head to face him wanting to look him in the eyes. Magnus’ then saying ‘There you are’ and touching Alec’s face, reassuring them both; I love Alec’s soft smile and closing his eyes to bask in Magnus’ touch. You can see how happy and relieved Alec is that Magnus is finally awake because even though Catarina said he would wake up it was hard to believe until it actually happened.

Alec is so attentive, adjusting Magnus’ pillows and helping him to sit up to make sure he is comfortable and doesn’t hurt himself. You can see the fear on his face when Magnus motions to do a spell; he knows what the consequences could be and he couldn’t cope with watching Magnus collapse again; especially when he knows that next time he might lose him for good. Magnus is in denial about how serious his condition is, he is so desperate to have magic that he wants to ignore what is happening.

I love the way the next scene is shot; using Magnus’ reflection to show that Magnus is only able to see his flaws and is blinded by how he sees himself. He is also trying to hide from Alec by not facing him directly, but he is unable to hide how he feels and the reflection is used to show this because Alec can see his expression in his reflection. He is able to see how Magnus’ sees himself, can see the pain and suffering that Magnus can no longer hide.

I also love that the camera angles allow the two halos of light to hover over both Alec and Magnus; and it also moves so that early in the conversation the edge of the glass creates a wall between Alec and Magnus, symbolising the walls Magnus is trying to put up. These decisions on how to shot the scene really do make an impact on the emotion and how it is perceived. I definitely think Amanda Row is one of my favourite directors for this specific reason; she is amazing at using camera angles and shots to capture the emotion and undercurrent of the scene and characters emotions.

Alec wants to impress the seriousness of the situation on Magnus because he had to watch as Magnus stopped breathing, he thought Magnus was dead and he is not willing to experience that again if it can be prevented. He is frustrated that Magnus is trying to brush off his concerns and doesn’t seem to be taking the threat seriously. He is devastated when Magnus says that magic may be worth dying for, he is taken aback by his conviction. He understands that magic was important but this drives home just how integral it is to how Magnus identifies.

Magnus feels so estranged from himself without his magic and doesn’t know how to live without it, to have to face giving it up a second time is ripping him apart. He knows how dangerous it is but he doesn’t want to have to face it because he is desperate to keep hold of the magic and himself; he finds it hard to believe that Alec could still love him because he feels like a completely different person without his magic.

I really start sobbing when Magnus turns to confront Alec; Harry actually added the line ‘Look at me! Can you honestly say you like this?!’ it really elevates the scene emotionally and really gives you a sense of just how different Magnus feels without magic. He doesn’t understand how Alec could love him when he doesn’t see himself as lovable.

Alec’s immediate answer is ‘Yes.’; he is so in love with Magnus that it isn’t even a question for him; he loves all parts of Magnus and nothing is going to changes that. I am openly sobbing at Alec speech of all the reason why he fell in love with Magnus, he is trying to get Magnus to understand and see all the things Alec sees in him that have nothing to do with his magic and everything to do with his personality. There is no situation where he would not love Magnus or find him less desirable, he is desperately trying to convince Magnus of this; his line ‘I won’t lose you, I can’t’ breaks me, seeing Magnus almost die has really made Alec realise that he can’t live without Magnus. Magnus has become such an integral part of his life, the love of his life that he doesn’t know how he would survive without him and doesn’t want to.

While Lilith is happy to see Jonathan she is clearly disappointed and annoyed that he didn’t come for her sooner, and we learn that Asmodeus used the magic he took for Magnus to imprison her and take over as the ruler of Edom. This is very interesting because you wonder if the Edom storyline is going to involve Lilith too, maybe she takes Magnus as leverage against Asmodeus or offers to help Magnus get his magic back as to weaken Asmodeus.

Lilith is angry that Clary is the reason Jonathan didn’t come for her sooner, Jonathan is her priority and she doesn’t understand why she isn’t his; and she hates Clary for capturing Jonathan’s attention and affection. She doesn’t trust him after his outburst and can tell that he is not being honest with her but she is blinded when he says that he loves her, she has wanted a child and the love of that child for so long that it eclipses everything else. We also see where Jonathan gets his incestuous tendencies from.

Did anyone else find it hilarious that when she was summoned she was just pulled backwards into the portal? For some reason it just really made me laugh how it happened, I’m not sure if I expected them to go through the ground (as they do when going to Edom) or if they would be pulled upwards but I did not expect that. I just find it hilarious that a demon could be going about their business and is then just pulled into a portal without warning.

Magnus has agreed for Lorenzo to take the magic back but you can tell from his expression that he is unhappy and is only doing it because he loves Alec. He knows how much Alec loves him, and he loves Alec too, he doesn’t want to cause Alec any more pain and deep down staying alive to live and love with Alec is more important than magic.

Lorenzo’s humanity promptly disappears as he informs them that he is keeping Magnus’ apartment. For me, at the moment there is still no redemption for Lorenzo; with everything he has done before this episode coupled with the fact that his only grievance with Magnus is jealousy of him and the refusal to give up the apartment. His moment of humanity and agreeing to take the magic back is negated by his jealousy and greed.

What I don’t understand is that the High Warlock is voted in right? And if the New York warlocks love and respect Magnus so much why have the not complained about Lorenzo yet, either to his face or to the Warlock Council (that’s a thing right, I haven’t read the books but I’m pretty sure I read that this is their sort of governing body. Please correct me if I’m wrong). Even if they don’t know everything Lorenzo has done they know that he has barred them from helping Magnus for anything with no good reason, surely this should have set off alarm bells for them. I would have expected at least Catarina to have done something because she knows most if not all of what Lorenzo has done. I know that story wise Lorenzo needs to be there but it just doesn’t make sense that they keep mentioning how beloved Magnus is but no one seems to be doing anything about Lorenzo’s treatment of him.

Magnus says he has everything he needs right there, gesturing to Alec; he knows that even without everything else he still has Alec and he is enough to keep him alive. Deep down he knows that the only things he truly needs if Alec but he cannot help how he feels without his magic; it is such a major part of who he is and he feels lost. Everything he is feeling is completely understandable.

I am glad that we got a Malec hug but it was a little disappointing because it felt a little stilted, but it is kinda understandable with how adrift Magnus is feeling right now. You can see in his expression how devastated and despondent he feels right now; I know that we are in for a lot of Magnus and Malec angst in the next few episodes. I am a little excited though because Harry always performs emotion and Magnus’ vulnerability brilliantly and usually makes me cry.

You can already see Lilith working out how to make this situation play to her benefit, she is angry that Jonathan tried to kill her and I’m pretty sure that she has disowned him; which while I understand why Jonathan hates her he has just lost his most powerful ally. She tells them that there is only one way to break the bond, to use Michael’s sword Glorious to stab Jonathan because it is imbued with Heavenly Fire which purifies demonic energy and nullifies the bond.

Izzy picks up on Heavenly Fire as it is the name of the Clave program and I am very interested to see where this storyline is going and it is looking more and more likely that my theory about it is close to being right. In case you haven’t read my 3x11 or 3x14 reviews, my loose theory is that they are somehow trying to purify the demon blood in Downworlders.

Jonathan appears with the intention of getting to Lilith, I don’t really like the fight scene and I think it might be one of the weakest ones the show has done. It felt very disjointed and there was too much slow motion for me, plus Jonathan producing that shock wave with his sword was strange because although you presume it was because of his demonic strength it felt out of place as we hadn’t seen him do anything like that before. Plus, Jace and Izzy spent too much time rolling around on the floor for my taste when it has been established many times that the simple use of an Iratze is an instant cure. It seems so odd that they weren’t immediately healing themselves and instead just lying there.

I feel real sympathy for Cain because yet again Lilith is able to manipulate him, promising to return his brother to him if he helps and protects her. She uses his grief and guilt against him, knowing that he will cave. He genuine seems apologetic to Simon because he knows how much trust Simon was putting in him and he hates letting him down, but for him getting his brother back is more important.

I was very confused at Luke getting a visitor outside of visiting hours because we are expecting his situation to get worse, as soon as the man said his name was Scott I knew he was Praetor Lupus because I remember Jordan talking about a Praetor Scott at the beginning of 3x13.

It feels very unsettling to learn that they have been watching him for a long time without his knowledge and the fact that they have enough influence to dismiss not only Luke’s murder charge but also everything to do with Ollie and the demonic murders. We know very little about the Praetor Lupus but it is very clear that they hold a lot of power in ways that we don’t expect. I think that this will be a very interesting new turn for Luke and I am excited to see where it goes.

Jonathan is in chains and I cannot help but laugh because my mum said ‘quack’ and I now cannot look at him without picturing him as a duck. But it also gives me Hannibal Lector vibes, which I presume was there actual intention.

Clary feels more confident in her ability to fight the rune’s influence with Jace by her side because he keeps her grounded. Each time she has felt close to the edge knowing he is there has prevented her from falling over it, she is hoping that together they can prevent her from succumbing to the rune. It is a very sweet scene between them and definitely feels like a parallel to Jace’s Owl situation in 3A.

I am crying right now just thinking about writing about this last scene. I totally was not expecting it, especially given the sober feel of all the Malec scenes in this episode. Oh my god.

Alec goes to Maryse and explains Magnus’ health issues, I am crying when he says ‘I can’t live without him’; Alec who never thought he would find someone to love now has the love of his life. Maryse is so happy for him; she can see how happy Magnus makes Alec and how much of a difference having Magnus in his life has made for Alec. She is overjoyed that her son has genuine love in his life, that he found someone who loves him just as much.

I am literally screaming when he asks for the family ring, the family ring has so much sentimentality to them; especially Alec whose world revolves around his family. The fact that he is requesting the ring shows how certain he is about Magnus and the significance of giving a Downworlder a Nephilim family ring is completely mind blowing. I think it will mean a lot to Magnus because he probably knows this tradition with family rings and he knows the significance of them; to be given such an important Shadowhunter object and to be included in this tradition will mean a lot, especially after a life full of being made to feel inferior to Shadowhunters.

I know that some people are saying that it is too soon for Malec to be getting married, they have only been together for about three months, and I understand where they are coming from. But the decision of when you are ready to propose is a completely individual thing, plus they have almost lost each other so many times that it makes them realise that time is precious and they shouldn’t waste a moment just because other may find it fast. Plus, Shadowhunters only have one true love and for Alec its Magnus, there will never be another for him so why should he wait when he feels ready now. There is nothing wrong with Alec wanting to propose to the man that he loves, he wants to spend the rest of his life with him and to show Magnus the extent of his commitment and love.

Now, that doesn’t mean Magnus will say yes right now and that is his decision. He is going through a lot right now and he may not feel like he can make such a big decision, especially when he doesn’t even feel like himself. Even if Magnus does say no to Alec’s proposal it doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to marry him, it just means he is not ready to say yes yet.

I did wonder if it will play out like Alec asking to move in; Alec will ask Magnus to marry him and Magnus will say no, not yet. Then they will experience a life endangering situation (the whole Edom thing) Alec will ask again and Magnus will say yes; or Magnus will ask Alec to marry him.

I have no idea how this is going to pan out, something may happen to cause Alec to wait a little before asking, or maybe he is prevented from asking. I have no idea but I know that it is probably going to be painful, in the end it will lead to so much happiness and I am excited for every excruciating moment of it.

This was an amazing episode full of emotion and beautiful camera angles, every scene felt like it has a purpose and were driving the plots. Matt absolutely destroyed me with his acting and Malec took me on one huge rollercoaster of emotions.

I’m so excited for 317 even though I’m scared about how the proposal is going to pan out, Simon is going under cover at the Gard and Clary confronts her brother. I am not prepared for the pain that is coming.

[ryewi]

When I’m With You I’m In Utopia [Chapter 11]

Summary:  9 years ago, the world split in two halves, Utopia and Dystopia. One of the laws allows citizens of both worlds to visit the other once in their lifetime, for a whole week, after which, they’re forced to return home. If by any chance, they don’t return, a death punishment is sentenced. Jeon Jungkook, a citizen of Dystopia seemed to be desperate enough to challenge that exact law.

Genre: Utopia!au, Dystopia!au, fluff, A N G S T, drama, to be added~~

Words: 2,1k

Warnings: none!

<Previous | Part Eleven | Next>

It had been minutes, hours, days, since she was taken away. Faith’s hurt eyes haunted him, each second less bearable than the last one. Jungkook wasn’t able to sleep properly for the previous three nights, always somehow kept awake by the image of Faith’s eyes screaming for help. How they played between a man inducing fear and another one causing disappointment. Jungkook never wanted to be a letdown, not again at least, yet that’s exactly what happened. He could remember every rational thought in him screaming run, fight, help, while the heaviness of his limbs refused to cooperate. That’s your faith slowly disappearing, that’s the only hope you have, wiped away. Jungkook was an asshole, an utterly egoistic animal.  

Somehow, after the whole accident, Jungkook managed to hurriedly pick the lock on Faith’s door and enter inside, mind still in complete fuss over what just happened. There really was no reason as to why he didn’t react, or why he was currently spending time doing absolutely nothing. Maybe it was their huge physique or their formal outwear that intimated the smaller boy and made him obey their silent orders. There also was no reason why Jungkook wasn’t cuffed and forced inside of the black car together with her. Not sure if that was a part of a plan, he decided not to think about it for long and get on with making a ploy of his own.

On the kitchen counter, Faith’s shopping bags remained unopened, vibrant hair color and bleach peeking through a layer of bright t-shirts. Jungkook eyed them often, eventually unpacking the contents and finding out that the shirts were bought for him. Although not so certain about the dye, Jungkook decided to use it when a sudden idea popped up in his head.

As if on que, the TV screen flashed a bring red, bold white letters spelling out HOT NEWS on the obnoxiously vibrant background. After a five-second-long intro, a woman dressed purely in white, with short black hair that barely reached her shoulders, started apologizing for the sudden interruption. Mrs. Wells, as she introduced herself, seemed just as out of place as everyone else, the urgency of situation providing so much tension for the panicked woman. Jungkook’s full attention was on the screen, patiently listening to every single word that left her thin lips.

“Today, marking the 25th of September, debates around the experiment Utopia/Dystopia coming to an end, after nearly a decade, have officially begun. Sessions will be held throughout the rest of the week and one final decision will be made at Sunday, 9am.”.  

»»————-　♡　————-««

In a miniscule room, the single light source seemed way too bright. In that same room, the walls seemed to close in with each passing second, suffocating the tiny creature inside. Air felt too thick and hard, temperature couldn’t stop rising, only to drastically drop at, what Faith assumed was, night. If someone was to ask her what day it is, Faith wouldn’t know how to reply. That awful thought bothered her too, the loss of awareness in time and space aroused confusion.

Maybe it was because of the way she was handled food on a cheap plastic tray, or the way she was spoken to, that made Faith feel vulnerable and gullible. Only a slight raise of their strong tone was enough to get her exhausted muscles to obey and follow in whichever direction they walked towards. Faith just had no more energy or will to stand up and show her fangs, allowing whoever and whenever to throw her body around and have their way.

In reality, it wasn’t as bad as she thought it was. In crucial moments of one’s life, their brain tends to overthink and believe in an extremely hyperbolic picture of the situation. Not being any different than the next person, Faith fell victim to her own deceiving.

She was handled meals regularly, three times a day, with enough proteins to keep a human healthy. The guards only ordered for her to move one room to the right, every other day, but they did that to everyone else. What happened to the person whose room she took yesterday, was unknown. Or maybe, she just didn’t want to think about it.

She didn’t want to think about it because there was a chance that she could be next.  

There was a vent through which fresh air entered daily, at 5pm, but Faith failed to notice it. She also failed to notice how every once in a while, a speaker placed outside of the cell, played calming music. It sometimes even transmitted important news from a radio that was connected to it. News and music were rarely ever loud enough to reach past the thick unknown material of Faith’s door, cutting her out even more.  

People on this floor were all like Faith. Every single person here felt emotionally attached to someone they shouldn’t have, which was only normal. They have ended up behind the bars for being human, for wanting to save and cherish someone who offered them comfort. Everyone was fighting, counting down seconds and flinching each time their name was called. Their hearts stopped too whenever the rooms were exchanged, expecting quick and sharp pain of a small caliber against their temple.

It was a constant game of cat and mouse, although this time, the cat was already the winner.

At 2pm, right after lunch, the music suddenly and drastically increased in volume, sending waves of vibrations throughout the whole floor, only to abruptly stop. Not for long though, as the calming noises were replaced with a powerful, yet shaky voice of an unknown woman.

“Today, marking the 25th of September, debates around the experiment Utopia/Dystopia coming to an end, after nearly a decade, have officially begun. Sessions will be held throughout the whole week and one final decision will be made at Sunday, 9am.”.  

Faith’s ears perked up at that, a slight sparkle of hope overtaking her weak body. The female grew extremely pessimistic in a matter of days, but one could argue that being optimistic while waiting for a death sentence was insanity. She rarely smiled, only letting a pair of lips curve up during occasional day dreams, images of life back to normal filling her tormented mind. The description of a Dystopian was more fitting for Faith than who she actually was.

That exact glint of hope was soon blown away as the door to Faith’s room were opened and one of those two strong men walked in. It was the one that didn’t dare speak a word while his colleague handled all the harsh talking and emotional abuse. He was swearing the same suit and neck tie from a few days ago, although today, there was a nametag stuck on his front pocket, presenting a shiny, calligraphed Lucas. Faith looked up and flinched upon noticing his towering figure in front of her. Just a thought about that monster was enough to freeze Faith’s tense muscles, let alone such proximity in person.  

“Ms. Keith?” Lucas spoke up, tone somehow soft, harmless and, friendly. His eyes showed deep remorse as he crouched down next to the bed Faith was sat on. It seemed as if there were a thousand words on his tongue, but no time to say them all because time kept disappearing and every second was important.

“Yes?” Her voice was quiet, eyes wide and attention sharp, “that’s me”.

“Please follow me” He replied, slowly standing up and offering a strong hand for Faith to hold on to. Eyeing him cautiously, then moving on to the held-out hand, she shook her head and looked away. The man nodded along and beckoned for her to follow as they left the tiny room together.

“Where are we going?”

“I’m not supposed to tell you, sorry”  

Faith remained silent for a couple of moments, trying to keep up with Lucas’ long strides. There were so many questions she wanted to ask, that had no right time for an answer. Maybe even now, wouldn’t be the most suitable, but it was the best opportunity she was given in a while.

“Do you enjoy your job?” She asked, small hand reaching out quick to hold the strong man back.  

“Miss, I-”

“Do you enjoy sending people to slaughters for being human?” Faith’s eyes began to slightly water, voice beginning to break as the sole weight of the whole situation hit her. Her book is already entering the last chapter, leaving thousands of pages after it clear.

Lucas looked hurt, face showing slight discomfort at the straightforward addressing. If he had to be honest, the reply would be no. There was no moment that the feeling of pity towards every imprisoner wasn’t present. He shared the same opinions like the female in front of him, it was all too wrong. Hunting down innocent people, invading their privacy, leading them to secure death, just for loving. Surely, if he wasn’t blackmailed, Lucas would be out of this place for good.

“Do you think I gain pleasure from knowing that I’m someone’s last memory? That I cheer when I hear an agonizing scream twenty seconds after we said our goodbyes? It’s a constant burden of counting one more life on my soul, gosh Miss Keith there’s nothing I can d-”

In that moment, a woman formally dressed in all grey appeared around the corner, surprising the man. Lucas jerked his hand out of Faith’s grip, an unreadable expression reappearing on his facial features, before turning away quick. Faith regained her own cold expression, trailing behind a tall and strong physique that still led her towards an unknown location. Faith wondered when will her time arrive, when will she come face to face with someone who’ll be able to justify murder in a couple of short sentences. Someone who’ll throw 20 years of life into water for simplistic moral reasons.  

There was no time to wrap her head around the passing thought, well maybe that moment might be just now, as Faith was shoved inside of an obnoxiously light room. Squinting and trying to adjust to the sudden change of light, her eyes tried to make out the silhouettes of three unknown men. It took a couple of seconds, but even when she was able to see normally, their faces remained unrecognizable. The three men seemed to be shocked at the sudden intrusion, obviously not expecting to see their next case in person.

“Miss Keith, welcome to the discussion room” The tallest of them said, extending his palm for a shake, which Faith felt obliged to accept. “My name is Mr. Cole, I’m in charge of monitoring imprisoners during special sessions”, he motioned towards the other two, somehow not bothering to formally introduce them, “these are my co-workers”. On the quick mention of monitoring, Faith’s eyes scanned the room quick, immediately noticing a rather big mirror. A one-way mirror.

Got you.

“We won’t be bothering you for long, just the formalities, in case we see each other around” Mr. Cole made sure to emphasize the last bit of his sentence, clearly sure that Faith would understand what he meant. Just when his crew was beginning to clear out, Mr. Cole moved away, letting Faith’s eyes glide over a man that had his back turned to them, reviewing a couple of papers. His posture seemed familiar, especially in a black suit that expressed his figure perfectly.

“This is the man that’s going to have a talk with you. You’re free to leave if you feel uncomfortable, although I advise you not to” Pulling out a sickening smile, he excused himself and left the room with a loud “she’s yours”.

Faith was hesitant to move and approach “the man”, already feeling a slight urge to leave. The aesthetically and morally unpleasant mirror provoked her attention, calling out for a glance every two seconds. Faith was aware that there was a team of at least five people behind that glass, and she wasn’t certain if that relaxed or freaked her out more. Flipping a middle finger towards what she calculated was center of the glass, Faith cautiously walked towards a lone table and chair in the middle of the room.

As if on que, a second after Faith’s bottom was safely placed on a strong hold of the wooden chair, the man turned around, throwing Faith’s documents all over his workplace. His huge palms were outstretched on it, fingers and arms shaking in fear and anxiety.

A few moments and flinches later, she dared to look up. Faith’s eyes roamed from their vibrating fingertips to strong biceps and eventually focusing on the scrunched-up face that she could only recognize as,

“Namjoon?!”

AN: Hi I’m aware this might seem rushed, but I’m really under so much pressure bc of school and I’m trying to deplete the last of my inspiration before I turn into an unmotivated mess. Anyway, there are like 3-4 more chapters to go, and it’s all really just high-end tension and cliffhangers from here. I already have the ending written so I can with confidence say it’s staying like that till the end. Thank you for reading, have a great night/day!