#until we get the game and you actually see

[tokoyamisstuff]

Second Chance At Love Pt. 3

Variant! Invincible x gn! Reader

Warnings: angst, blood, hurt/comfort, enemies to lovers, not proofread A/N: don't worry, this is not over yet! and sorry to all the og Mark fans lmao

[A few minutes earlier, Pentagon Medical Ward]

"So you left my friend alone with this freak the whole time?!"

Cecil's thumb was hesitating on the trigger for the high-frequency device, not wanting to stain his relationship with the original Mark any further - but after witnessing what his variants were capable of, he's certainly not taking any chances.

"Calm. Down." he urges the young Viltrumite while trying to remain amenable at the same time. "We needed to take care of the active threats beforehand, and also...he seemed quite fond of your friend." That last part he regretted immediately after saying it aloud.

"You can't be serious!" Mark now screamed, dramatically throwing his hands in the air, thus making all nearby agents cower in fear. "It was you who told me that one of those psychos tried to lure my mom out to kill her! What else do you think this is? He made my friend believe he's me, to play some sort of wicked game!"

All that had happened those past few days...the death and destruction...Mark blamed himself for all of it, because at the bottom line everything was inevitably caused by his own lack of resolve.

And there he was, hiding away at Eve's sickbed like a stubborn child, cowardly refusing to take responsibility as earth's last hope, while others were risking their lives to correct his errors, hell, while his brother and mom were still out there!

Once again he let everyone down.

But Mark won't let any more people he cares about suffer because of his own shortcomings. This time he won't hold back...

...he'll kill this variant and make him pay for what he's done.

Picking up his mask from the counter, he bids his still comatose girlfriend one last look, very well aware how disappointed she'd be at his latest decisions. She'd want him to go. So he mutters a silent apology before rushing into the hallway, with Cecil following closely behind.

"Teleport me to them. And you better send as many backup reanimen as you can."

[Current time]

"Careful Mark. If our observations are correct, this one is way stronger than the others." The hero huffs in annoyance upon hearing Cecil's voice from his earpiece, watching his other self come out of the debris with not a hair out of place.

Well, most of the variants probably never faced any real threat or even slight disadvantage in their lives. There was simply no reason for them to train properly, since the powergap between Viltrumites and any other species was just so ridiculously high.

This version of Mark however spent his entire life preparing his vengeance on Omni-man for taking the one and only thing he truly cared about...

...and his hard work seemed to bear fruit, since a single counterattack of his was painful enough to temporarily stun the original. He seized the opportunity to pin his opponent down, landing one severe blow after another until both of them were completely covered in the original Mark's blood.

"NO!" you screamed at the top of your lungs, having thrown yourself onto the variant's back as you - brave yet very foolishly - tried to to get those two behemoths away from each other. And in the end, your struggle and pleas actually made the variant stop in his tracks. "Please...don't kill him."

For a split second you see the look of heartbreak and betrayal in the man's face, since seeing you still care so much for the original erased all hope he had started to harbor.

Your world's Mark has everything he ever wanted, and he doesn't even understand how lucky he is.

This is so fucking unfair, it's driving him insane.

The Viltrumite raises his bloodied knuckles to his temples, his jealousy spiraling into a violent, irrational urge to tear the original apart and take his place.

And yet he tries to keep it together for your sake as he couldn't bear to cause you any more sorrow. He glares you down with so much malice "That was self-defense" he scoffed through strained breaths, desperately trying to prevent himself from having a mental breakdown. "I wasn't actually going to-"

Now it was the original Mark's chance to turn the battle around, grabbing the variant by the throat as he crushed him against a mountain not far from the hill you were on.

While your former friend was completely disregarding you, rationality overthrown by his wrath, the other Invincible's eyes were practically glued to you in concern for your safety. At first he was holding back, letting the attacker use him as a punching bag in hopes it'd calm him down...

...but when he recognized the capsules transporting reanimen falling from the sky, he pounced on you with no forethought, shielding you from the impact with his own body.

"Shit, are you oka-" Another time he was torn away from you, with Mark yelling at him to keep his filthy hands off of you. And yet with every move, no matter what, the other Mark did a way better job to prevent any harm than the one who came to 'save' you from that very same man.

"Dude, that's exactly why we cannot fight here!" the variant reprimanded his counterpart while severing the head and limbs from several cyborgs. "Think about your partner's safety! We both only want what's best for them, right?"

"Huh?" The original Mark gave a puzzled look at that statement, the word 'partner' obviously made him think of Eve, but his eyes briefly flickered towards you. "What's that supposed to mea- ah, whatever."

In any other context you would've probably been so embarassed that you wished for the earth to swallow you whole - but this is neither about you, nor was it the time for this kind of talk. And luckily, Mark didn't overthink the variant's words but focused on the truth in them instead, swiftly throwing you over his shoulder to bring you away, so that they could continue their battle without endangering you.

"Let. Me. Go!" You repeatedly punch against Mark's back, horrified to see your newfound friend down below trying to stand his ground against the reanimen. "Tell them to stop! None of this is necessary!"

"Hey, it's me!" Mark tries to soothe you, convinced that you're just overwhelmed by today's events. "The real me, okay? Stop being so irrational!"

"Yeah, I know that, you blockhead!" you blurt out in anger, "And you're one to talk! You let your emotions dictate your actions, as always! I thought Invincible spares the bad guys and tries to talk it out?"

"...not anymore. We all saw today how that way of dealing with villains turns out." Letting you down so far away that you can't even see how the variant is holding up anymore, Mark is about to leave and finish the job when you manage to get a hold of his wrist. "Wait. Listen to me, that Mark is not entirely evil!"

"Are you fucking kidding me?" So not only did you know it was a variant, but now you're also defending him?! "The trauma messed with your head or something. Let Cecil's people pick you up and check on you."

"Seriously, Mark." He finally turned around to take a proper look at you, grinding his teeth as he recognized that naive, caring attitude of yours that always had a positive influence on him in the past. It made his heart swell with both admiration and envy...

...because why the hell were you advocating for a malicious version of himself, especially after throwing away your friendship over something he had no control over?!

"You know this guy one fucking day and suddenly you're on his side?" the hurt in his voice was so tremendous, you felt as if the guilt of it swallowed you whole. "You were supposed to be my friend, and he's the one who participated in making mine and many other's lives a living hell! So why?!"

"...it would be a waste to kill off a potential ally of this strenght, would it not?" Your reasoning got accentuated by the sound of metal and flesh clashing in the background, and you secretly hoped the variant was doing okay. "Maybe he can be rehabilitated."

"God, you sound like Cecil...but even he draws a line at some point. This guy is irredeemable!" Mark ran a hand through his hair, pacing around in circles to clear his head - and yet it was like your role in all this was the one drop that made the pot boil over. "He needs to be stopped! You've seen it yourself, he leveled several cities to the ground and killed a great amount of heroes! Shit, he's caused millions of deaths, do you have any idea what that means?!"

There was nothing to add to this. He was right, about absolutely everything. And yet...

"He-he needed to fullfill his part of the bargain, or Angstrom would've-" A loud bang echoed through the air as Mark's fists met the ground in frustration, effectively cutting you off. "Fuck, do you even hear yourself?! He always had a choice to join the fight on the right side instead of wasting his time chasing after yo-" There was a gleam of epiphany in his eyes that made you a little anxious whether he had picked up on the hints.

"Look, I'm not trying to justify his actions." You pry one of Mark's fists open, intertwining your fingers with his. "But we need him..."

"...we, or you?" That question caught you off guard, but when you wanted to stumble away but Mark pulled you right back. "What he talked about earlier...are we a couple in that other dimension?"

Sometimes you tend to forget that he isn't as dull as he comes across. Damn it.

"I-I-I....it's more complicated than that. I...died in his world." You shouldn't even be arguing about something so pointless right now, and you also don't want to burden him any further, but he keeps prying.

"So what, you want to become the moral support of a mass murderer?" Worded like this it does sound pretty awful. "I know you cut me out of your life, but I still care about you. No way I'm gonna let that happen. It's too dangerous."

Those feelings you harbored over the past decade were like a chain weighting heavy around your heart - but instead of communicating like an adult, you dwelled in self-pity and pushed your friend away. And as crazy as it sounds, over time you convinced yourself there's no way out of this, nothing else awaiting you...

...that was until you met the other Mark, however.

No better timing to free yourself than now, you thought, but Mark connected the dots faster than you were able to confess. "...why did you never say anything?"

"Oh c'mon, you've been doting on Eve since highschool." Mark was not the person to back out of a friendship like this, even if though he didn't reciprocate. If you had told him he'd certainly would've found a way to make this work, since he didn't want to lose you. And yet you didn't want to give the two of you the chance to overcome this, rather choosing to hurt him before you get hurt.

What a stupid, selfish teenager you were back then...

"Now it all makes sense" he speaks to himself, shyly glancing over to you again as he covers his blushing cheeks with his hands. "Fuck, I'm such an idiot..."

"Nonsense, I'm the ass for ruining our friendship over a silly crush." That was the understatement of the year - you were head over heels for this man.

He seems almost melancholic thinking back to all the moments he should've noticed what's going on. All this time wasted going no-contact when you could've worked things out instead...but it takes two to do that, and he's certainly not the one to blame.

Turning his head towards the noise of the ongoing fight, he shakes his head in disbelief. "This is so fucked up..."

"Tell me about it" you chuckle, playfully poking his side in an attempt to lighten the mood, and both of you give each other an appreciative smile. "But we shouldn't make rushed decisions in our current state, right?"

Mark lets out a shuddered sigh, realizing just what kind of hole your absence has tore in his life. But you'll manage to get back to how things were between you. This was a ray of hope cutting through the storm he's been caught into, ever since becoming a superhero.

"God, you have no idea how much I've missed you..."

There's no more time to waste, everything else has to wait until much later. Mark brings you back with him, a safe distance away from where the variant was still battling reanimen that just kept coming. Upon seeing Invincible he raises his guard again, but much to his surprise he's not attacked again, quite the opposite.

"Cecil, stop them!" your Mark exclaims into the comm as he jumps in between the crowd of cyborgs, giving a quick nod of acknowledgement to his other self. "He won't resist if we take him prisoner, right?"

"Sure..." the variant murmured, raising a brow in confusion. But indeed, the mechanical soldiers stop and he gets immobilized by Mark without fighting back. He looks up to you as if seeking your approval, and you quickly rush to their side, scolding Mark for being so harsh with his precautions.

"Are you hurt?" you whisper as the GDA agents transport you back to the Pentagon by helicopter, only the real Mark having flown ahead. You however refused to leave the variant's side, even though you've been strongly advised to go home, at least until the situation was less intense.

"This is nothing..." The Viltrumite huffs in amusement that you were worried about him of all people. He looks down to the shackles around his arms and legs that could never actually hold him, daring to crack a smile which you gladly mirrored. "But thanks that you stood up for me...even though I still don't understand why."

"Because I believe in you, so you better not disappoint me!" you chant, whearing a quiet whimper escape his throat when you put a reassuring hand on his knee. "Everything is gonna be alright, I'm sure of it. We're gonna figure it out...together, okay?"

A few hours later and you were still waiting in a hallway of the GDA, the feeling of suspense only worsened by all the pitying and disgusted looks some of the agents were shooting you. It was understandable, of course, since they probably saw you throwing yourself at the enemy live and in HD.

"I couldn't care less about whatever you two got going on" Cecil explains with his usual stoic manner, "but he refuses to talk and we don't have time for this."

You knew the opportunistic geeze was at least partly bluffing - he's most likely already planning on how to utilize Invincible's affection for you to control him.

Upon entering the prison cell you gasped at the gigantic apparatus containing him, all of his limbs encoated by a metal you didn't recognize in order to keep him from making any move. Honestly, it felt like no matter what they tried, he was only here because he wanted to be. If you told him to break out right now he'd most likely wreck this place in one milisecond.

The variant's defeated features brighten as he recognizes who was paying him a visit, but the initial excitement was soon pushed back by his newfound guilty conscience. He didn't expect to ever see you again, let alone you voluntarily entering the lion's den.

"I'll accept whatever punishment you deem necessary" he rasps, greatly worried at the possibility of them using you against your will. "Just leave them out of this."

Cecil nudged the bridge of his nose, groaning exaggeratedly. It sure isn't easy making objective decisions when you're that emotionally involved with the Grayson family - although he'd never admit the soft spot he had for them.

Not to mention, this was a once in a lifetime opportunity to get his hands on one of the two literal strongest men on the planet.

"Well for starters you'll help with rescue and rebuidling" he ultimatively decides, talking to the young man like one would scold an unruly child. "Consider this your last chance. And don't you dare taking a break until this whole planet has recovered from the aftermath of your crimes. I don't want to see you eating, sleeping or even breathing without any supervision. Got it?!"

"Yes, Sir..."

A single gesture of his hand enough to make his underlings free the Viltrumite from his confinements. "Give him a new costume so he doesn't scare the survivors...and insert an ultrasonic implant, just to be sure."

Mark rubbed his sore wrists, baffled with this decision. He had expected nothing less than torture, that they'd experiment until they'd find a way to execute him...but this? Ridiculous. Hardly a punishment.

Not that he's complaining, though.

At long last, you were facing each other again, those brief hours of separation feeling like an eternity apart. Crazy to think you barely even know this man - well, the fact that he was so much like the original Mark may have messed with your perception of time...

...or you were simply going crazy as well, who knows. Anyways, it did not feel wrong. If anything you've never been this happy in years.

The Viltrumite seems conflicted, his muscles occasionally twitching out of the desire to be close to you, to touch and hold you and never let go again. But then he detects the tears of relief in your eyes, misinterpreting them negatively and backing off even further.

Right...he doesn't deserve to be anywhere near you.

"You didn't need to...you shouldn't be here." He faces the ground in shame, blinking back tears of his own as he speaks. "Not after what I did."

"Damn it, Mark..." you half-yell, half-whine as you run straight towards him, wrapping your arms around his torso as if to press all of his broken parts back together. "Just...shut up. I'm capable of making my own decisions, whether you like them or not."

What a strange one you were. He wasn't even sure if his dimension's version of you had been that amazing of a person.

"Can't argue with that..." His hands tentatively finding purchase on your sides, and you instantly feel him melt at the feel of your body against his. "But it seems like we won't be able to meet each other for a while..."

"I can wait..." you shrug, beaming up at him with an almost playful tone. "...as long as you promise to take me on another date, would you? Without robots and death-matching yourself next time, if possible."

Mark smiled.

He did so many times ever since you met of course, but it always seemed like he was mimicking genuine human interaction, as if he was forcing himself to put on a facade in order to make you comfortable.

But this one, right here, right now...it was real, and so, so beautiful.

Hopefully you see more of it in the future.

"Oh, I think after you've seen how far I'd go for you, it's safe to say I can't deny you any wish..."

[cherryvyxen]

"𝗥𝗶𝘃𝗮𝗹 𝗛𝗲𝗮𝗿𝘁𝘀"

Paige x f! reader - Wnba

Synopsis -

You're a rising star on a rival team, and the media LOVES pitting you two against each other. What they don’t know? You’re secretly hooking up off the court. But when real feelings start to bloom, things get complicated—and messy.

Word Count: 3.3k

The tension between you and Paige Bueckers could fill an entire arena.

Every time you step on the court, it’s the same dance—sharp words exchanged under your breath, shoves masked as "defense", and those lingering stares that make both crowds and commentators buzz with speculation.

They call it the rivalry of the season.

If only they knew the truth.

If only they knew that last night, Paige had you pinned against the wall of her hotel room, lips on your neck, hands tracing every inch of you like she couldn’t get close enough.

But today? Today, she’s smirking at you from across the court, blue eyes sparkling like she knows she got under your skin—because she did.

And now you’re standing at the free-throw line, trying to focus, trying to ignore the way her gaze lingers on you like a physical touch.

“You gonna make it, or choke like usual?” she taunts, just loud enough for you to hear.

You shoot her a glare, lips twitching despite yourself. “You wish, Bueckers.”

The ball hits the rim and swishes through the net.

Crowd erupts.

But your heart's thudding for a different reason.

Because later, when the final buzzer sounds and your team barely edges out the win, you can feel her burning gaze as you head toward the locker room.

And sure enough, as soon as you’re alone, still high off adrenaline and sweat, Paige appears like she owns the place—leaning casually against the door, arms crossed, that damn smirk still there.

“Congrats on the win,” she says, voice low, teasing. “Guess even you get lucky sometimes.”

You roll your eyes, tossing your jersey onto the bench. “Funny. Pretty sure I earned that win. Maybe you’re just slipping.”

She raises a brow, stepping closer, eyes scanning you in a way that makes your breath catch—because now it’s just the two of you, and no one can see how she looks at you like that.

"Slipping?" she echoes, now inches away. "You didn’t seem to think so last night."

Your heart stutters.

Because damn her. She always does this—taunts you until you snap, until you want her again, even though you know how complicated it is.

“You’re cocky for someone who just lost,” you mutter, but your voice is softer, weaker than you want it to be, because her hand is now resting on your hip, fingers curling into your skin like she belongs there.

“I don’t mind losing to you,” she murmurs, leaning in, lips grazing your ear. “But I’m not leaving here without getting what I want.”

“And what’s that?” you whisper, though you already know.

She pulls back just enough to look you in the eyes. “You.”

The word hits you hard—because you don’t know if she means just for tonight, or if she’s finally admitting to more.

Because you feel more. And that’s what makes this dangerous.

Still, your hands find her waist before you can stop yourself, pulling her close. “You’re a mess, Bueckers.”

“And you love it.”

You hate how right she is.

Her lips are on yours before you can reply, hot and desperate, tasting like the energy of the game still lingering in both of you. She kisses like she plays—aggressive, relentless, like she’s fighting for control.

But tonight, you fight back—pushing her against the locker, nails dragging lightly over her arms, making her shiver.

"Thought you were tired after all that losing," you tease against her lips, smirking when she groans softly.

“You talk too much,” she breathes, tilting her head to kiss you harder, deeper, like she wants to drown out every word.

But when you pull back, breathless, there’s something raw in her eyes—something that makes your chest tighten.

“Why do we do this?” you whisper, fingers still tangled in her jersey. “Act like we hate each other when…”

When I’m scared I might actually love you.

Her hand lifts to cup your cheek, thumb brushing over your skin in a rare gentle touch. “Because it’s easier than admitting what this is,” she says quietly.

You swallow hard, leaning into her touch without meaning to. “And what is this?”

Her eyes search yours, vulnerable in a way that knocks the air out of you. “I don’t know," she whispers. "But I’m tired of pretending I don’t want you every second of the day.”

You feel like you can’t breathe. Because for the first time, the mask is gone—no smirks, no snarky comebacks. Just Paige.

“Paige…”

Her name feels strange on your tongue when it’s not said with an edge.

She leans her forehead against yours, closing her eyes. “I know we’re supposed to be rivals. I know everyone’s watching. But when I’m with you… I don’t care about any of that.”

Your heart aches. Because you know exactly what she means.

“I don’t wanna hide anymore,” you admit quietly.

She lets out a soft, shaky laugh, pulling you closer, her arms around your waist now. “Good. Because I don’t think I can.”

There’s a knock on the locker room door, a voice calling her name, and reality comes crashing back—but she doesn’t let you go.

"Come over later?" she whispers, hopeful, vulnerable.

You nod, eyes locked on hers. “Yeah.”

She smiles—soft and real—and presses one last kiss to your lips, like a promise.

As she walks away, you realize the rivalry might still play out in public, but behind closed doors?

She’s yours.

And maybe, just maybe, this could be more than a game.

[semisasseater]

I LIKE YOU BEST

like this.

SUMMARY ‘ The hyung line reactions when you unexpectedly show them affection

𓊆 hyung line 𓊇 x gn!reader 㞫⠀⠀ ִ ⠀960 obsession dubious comfort kidnapping affection forced captivity fluff emotional manipulation suspicion yandere themes — 类型 dark romance psychological thriller horror yandere

✴︎ LIBRARY ✴︎

‧˚⠀⠀ 🤍⠀⠀ ɞ 作者注 : i love yandere trope.

Heeseung – Playing Video Games Together

Heeseung narrowed his eyes at you, arms crossed. “you wanna play video games.. with me?”

You nodded eagerly, bouncing on your feet. “yes!! come on it’ll be fun!”

His suspicion grew. You never wanted to hang out with him. You barely even tolerated him. Was this some kind of trick? A distraction so you could try to escape? His mind raced with possibilities, and he nearly refused—until he saw your pout, your lower lip jutting out in disappointment.

“you’re fucking with me aren’t you” he scoffed, but there was hesitation in his voice.

“i’m not! i just.. i thought it’d be fun to play together” you mumbled, looking away.

Heeseung stared at you, studying every little detail of your expression, searching for any deception. But all he found was genuine excitement. His heart squeezed in his chest.

“…fine. but don’t get mad when i win” he muttered, already setting up the console.

Your eyes lit up, and you sat beside him eagerly. His fingers trembled slightly on the controller. He didn’t care about the game—he just cared that, for once, you wanted to spend time with him.

⸻

Jay – Baking Cookies Together

Jay blinked at you in disbelief. “you wanna bake cookies..?”

You nodded, rocking on your heels. “mhm!!”

For a moment, he just stared. You had to be messing with him. There was no way you actually wanted to do something so.. domestic with him. But when you didn’t back down, he exhaled and got up. “alright.. let’s do it then”

Your face lit up, and he felt his cold heart melt just a little.

He led you to the kitchen, washing both of your hands before pulling out ingredients. You measured things wrong on purpose just to see his reaction, and he groaned, flicking flour at you.

“y/n that’s way too much sugar what are you doing” he sighed, but there was a small smile on his face.

“oops?” you giggled, and he just shook his head, amused.

By the time the cookies were in the oven, the kitchen was a mess, and Jay had never felt so.. normal. It was almost like you weren’t his captive. Almost like you wanted to be here with him. And god, he’d do anything to keep that illusion alive.

⸻

Jake – Playing With Your Hair

“jakey can you play with my hair?”

Jake nearly dropped his phone. His head snapped up to look at you, eyes wide. “do your.. hair?”

You nodded, suddenly hesitant under his intense gaze. “yes!! but uhm.. only if you want to we don’t have to..”

Your voice wavered, and panic shot through Jake’s body. “nonono! i’d love to! i was just confused that’s all” he rushed out, almost tripping over his words.

You slowly smiled, and he let out a relieved breath. He patted the space between his legs. “come here”

You hesitated for a moment before laying down between his legs, your head resting against his thigh. He carefully ran his fingers through your hair, rubbing your scalp gently.

You sighed in content, and his heart nearly exploded. He continued playing with your hair, twirling strands between his fingers, his touch so gentle it was almost loving.

And when your breathing slowed, your body relaxing into his, he realized—this was the happiest he’d ever been.

⸻

Sunghoon – Cuddling & Movie Night

Sunghoon’s brows furrowed. “you wanna have a movie night with me?”

“yes!!” you beamed, already grabbing popcorn.

He stared at you suspiciously. This had to be a trap. You had to be trying to catch him off guard. Maybe you’d use this as an opportunity to escape. His paranoia screamed at him to say no.

But then he saw the way you excitedly searched for a movie, the way you set up the blankets just right, the way your eyes sparkled with anticipation.

“…fine” he muttered, sitting stiffly beside you.

You grinned, snuggling into the blankets as the movie started. Sunghoon remained tense, his mind racing with worst-case scenarios. But as time passed, as you laughed at a stupid scene and nudged him playfully, he felt his walls crumble.

He turned to look at you, and for the first time in a long time, he smiled—genuinely. You were so cute. So perfect. So his. And he would make sure it stayed that way forever.

@semisasseater

[hellyrossum]

i've seen multiple posts recently that said something along the lines of "crazy how the new version of helena she created by severing herself hated her almost immediately upon being born" and. i don't think that's true, actually. in fact, one of the things that struck me on my rewatch of season 1 leading up to season 2's release was how long helly holds out hope for both her outie and the people around her to realize how fucked up this whole situation is; hope that if they're made to realize it, they'll do the right thing.

i think about her asking mark after the ball game, "so how're you gonna figure out if petey's okay?", like it was a given that he would try something. i think about her telling milchick as he bandages her arm an episode later, preparing her for the break room, "look, you seem like a smart person. don't you see how fucked up this is?"

and i think about the action she took that landed her there. how desperate she was to get that message to her outie, hoping that if she saw that desperation, she would let her go.

i think about the registration request that spurred it. how helly's response to learning it was denied wasn't "oh. she doesn't care". it was "my outie wouldn't do that". (because helly isn't the kind of person who would do that. right?)

i even think about how, when she recorded her ultimatum for her outie, she didn't keep the paper cutter in her lap, the blade looming over her fingers. she put it aside. because the threat wasn't for her outie, not really. she just wanted to talk to her.

helly was born skeptical-bordering-on-cynical ("are we livestock?") and rebellious, yes. but she wasn't a full doomer about her situation from the beginning; if she was, she wouldn't have bothered assaulting the conference room door, demanding they let her out. all of her early lashing out wasn't her shouting in an empty room for its own sake, resigned to the fact that no one would hear her. no; she was hoping, with every scream, that someone would. some part of her, even with all the things that then happened over the first half of the season to grind her down, believed she could reach them, appeal to their humanity, make them understand, make them see her as a person.

and she wanted to believe she could do the same for her own self. she wanted to believe in her outie, the person she was out there. she wanted to believe she was a good person, just... unaware. and she held on to that hope, despite all the mounting evidence... until helena looked her straight in the eyes and told her she was wrong to. until she proved that she was never ignorant, just cruel.

helly is the part of helena that believes she deserves better. helena showed that part of herself nothing but cruelty. and so helly turned that cruelty on her in turn.

[mediocre-shark-tales]

Identity Crisis

Doohan Sister Reader F1 Driver Reader Cadillac Formula 1 Reader

The second I stepped into my apartment, it felt like I could finally breathe again. The suffocating grip of my parents’ expectations, their carefully crafted plans for my life, loosened just enough for me to feel human again. Still, their words echoed in my head, swirling like a storm I couldn’t quite escape. The weight of their disappointment, their control, their complete disregard for what I wanted—it pressed down on me, but here, at least, I could push back.

For now, I refused to focus on their twisted version of my future. I refused to be their pawn, their bargaining chip in whatever high-society game they were playing. I had to focus on what mattered—racing, my career, my friends, the people who actually saw me and not just an asset to be married off.

Pulling my phone from my pocket, I scrolled through my messages until I found the trio group chat. My fingers hovered over the keyboard for a second before I typed:

Code Red, boys. Who wants to join me in a rage room?

The message sent, and I barely hesitated before switching to my browser, frantically searching for a place that would let me smash things to bits on such short notice. If there was ever a moment I needed to shatter something into a million pieces, it was now.

A reply popped up almost instantly.

Lando: Uh oh, who do we have to fight?

Oscar: Do we need alibis?

I let out a breathy laugh, shaking my head. These idiots. At least they always knew how to make me smile when I felt like curling into myself.

Me: No fights, no crimes. Just pure, unfiltered destruction. Be there in 30 minutes or be forever judged.

Franco finally replied, a simple thumbs-up emoji, followed by:

Franco: I’m in. But if you two back out, you’re dead to me.

I rolled my eyes and shot back a quick Wouldn’t dream of it before confirming the booking.

As I grabbed my keys, something in my chest loosened just a little more. I wasn’t alone. No matter how much my family tried to force me into a version of myself I didn’t recognize, at least I had people who chose me, exactly as I was. And tonight, with a baseball bat in hand and three of the best idiots I knew at my side, I was going to take every ounce of frustration, anger, and exhaustion and smash it into oblivion.

—

The room was eerily quiet for a moment after I finished speaking. My voice had started strong, steady, but by the time I got to the end, my throat was tight, and the weight of everything I had just confessed hung heavy in the air.

Lando was the first to break the silence. “That is—” He cut himself off, jaw clenched so tight I could practically hear his teeth grinding. “That is absolutely fucking ridiculous.” His hands shot up into his curls, tugging at them in frustration as he paced the room. “Are they serious? Like, actually? ‘Cause I swear to god, if they think they can just—" He stopped mid-sentence and turned back to me, eyes blazing. "What the hell kind of parents do that? Arranging dates? Telling you when you have to be back? Do they actually see you as a person or just some asset to trade off?”

I looked down at my hands, twisting my fingers together. I didn’t have an answer for him.

“Unbelievable,” Lando muttered, shaking his head. “And Jack? Jack? Does he seriously not see how messed up this is?”

I swallowed hard. “He… I don’t know. He just—he doesn’t question it. He doesn’t see the problem, and if he does, he just—he’s always been the golden boy, the one they actually care about. He doesn’t get what it’s like to be treated like an inconvenience in your own family.”

Lando let out a sharp breath, muttering something under his breath before flopping onto the couch beside me. He was still radiating anger, but when he looked at me, it softened into something more protective, almost like he was trying to will the weight off my shoulders.

Franco had been quiet, arms crossed, staring down at the floor as he processed everything I’d said. But when he finally spoke, his voice was laced with restrained fury. “I get being blind to some things, but this? This isn’t just ‘not noticing,’ this is choosing to ignore the way they treat you. That’s not just ignorance, that’s selfishness.” His jaw tightened. “If he really cared, he’d see it. He’d do something.”

I exhaled slowly, pressing my fingers against my temples. “It’s not that easy, Franco. He’s their perfect son. The one who’s always followed the path they wanted for him. It’s probably easier for him to believe that I want this life—that I don’t mind being controlled—than to admit that our parents are capable of being that cruel.”

Oscar, who had been quiet up until now, sighed. “I don’t think Jack’s a bad person,” he said carefully. “But I do think he’s been fed a lot of bullshit and hasn’t ever had to challenge it. That doesn’t excuse it, but…” He shook his head. “I just—I’d like to think he’ll figure it out eventually. That he’ll realize how wrong this is.”

Lando scoffed. “Yeah? And how long are we supposed to wait for that to happen? Until she’s actually stuck in some marriage she doesn’t want? Until it’s too late?”

I winced, and Oscar frowned. “I’m not saying to sit around and wait for him to get a clue. I’m just saying… maybe he’s not completely beyond hope.”

Franco exhaled sharply. “I’d love to believe that, mate, but right now, he’s got a hell of a lot of proving to do before I buy it.”

Oscar didn’t argue, just pressed his lips together and nodded.

Lando suddenly turned to me, brows furrowed. “You’re not seriously going back, right? You’re not actually going to let them force you into those ridiculous dates?”

I let out a heavy sigh, my fingers tightening around the fabric of my hoodie. “I don’t have a choice,” I admitted, my voice quieter than I wanted it to be. “If I refuse, they’ll start digging. And if they start digging, it’s only a matter of time before they find something I can’t afford for them to know.” I exhaled sharply, shaking my head. “Besides… I have to be there for the funeral. For him.”

Lando’s expression darkened, his jaw clenching. “That’s bullshit,” he muttered. “They shouldn’t get to have that kind of control over you.”

Franco, who had been listening in silence, finally spoke. “Then we make sure they don’t. You go, do what you have to do, but you’re not alone in this.” His voice was firm, unwavering. “If they push, we push back.”

Lando nodded, eyes burning with determination. “And if they try anything—anything at all—you call us. No hesitation.”

I swallowed hard, looking between them. The weight of what I was walking back into felt suffocating, but knowing I had them behind me? That made it just a little easier to bear.

For the first time in days, I let out a real breath. I wasn’t alone in this. No matter what my family did, no matter how much Jack refused to see the truth, I had people who stood by me. And that?

That meant everything.

—

Walking into the paddock the following weekend brought a fleeting sense of calm, like a breath of fresh air after suffocating for too long. The familiar hum of engines, the scent of burnt rubber lingering in the air, the organized chaos of teams rushing to prepare for the weekend—it all grounded me. This was my world. Here, I knew my place. Here, there were no whispered conversations about my future, no suffocating expectations disguised as family duty. Here, I was Ghost, a driver, not a pawn in someone else’s game.

For a moment, I let myself believe that I could just melt back into the routine, that nothing had changed. But the weight in my chest told me otherwise. No matter how much I wanted to pretend, the last week had cracked something inside me. My family’s words still clung to me like an unwanted shadow, and the knowledge that I had to return to them in two weekends loomed over me like a storm cloud.

Still, I forced a deep breath and straightened my posture, adjusting my helmet slightly as I stepped further into the paddock. Racing was the only constant in my life, the one thing that hadn’t turned its back on me. And no matter how much my world outside of this fell apart, the track would always be there—waiting for me to take control.

But the moment I noticed him, that fragile sense of peace shattered.

At first, I brushed it off. The paddock was always buzzing with people—engineers, media personnel, fans who had somehow found their way into restricted areas. Maybe he was just a journalist looking for an exclusive or a fan who had recognized something familiar in the way I moved.

But then it kept happening.

I would turn a corner, and there he was. Just barely in my peripheral vision, lingering at the edge of the crowd. Not moving toward me, not holding a camera or a phone—just watching.

Dark brown—almost black—eyes boring into me from a distance.

I pretended not to notice at first, keeping my head high, my posture casual, but every instinct inside me screamed that something was wrong. It wasn’t just the fact that he was staring—it was how he was doing it. Unblinking. Unmoving. Every time I turned my head just slightly, he was still locked onto me.

Shit.

A prickle of unease crawled down my spine as I walked toward the garage. I adjusted the straps of my bag, pretending to focus on something ahead, but my senses stayed hyperaware. If he was a journalist, why wasn’t he making a move? If he was a fan, why wasn’t he trying to approach me?

Unless he wasn’t either.

Unless he already knew.

The thought made my stomach turn. If someone had figured out who I was—who Ghost really was—it wouldn’t just be my career at risk. My entire life could unravel in an instant. My parents, my team, the FIA… the media.

I exhaled slowly, forcing my hands to stay steady as I picked up my pace. I needed to be smart about this. No sudden moves. No sign of weakness.

I spotted Franco near the team’s hospitality area, casually scrolling through his phone. He looked relaxed, but I knew better. Franco noticed everything.

I veered toward him without hesitation. As I approached, I didn’t stop walking, didn’t make a show of concern—just lowered my voice and murmured, “Don’t be obvious, but there’s someone following me.”

Franco’s thumb froze mid-scroll. He didn’t react immediately, just shifted his weight, stretching slightly as if he had no care in the world. “Where?” he asked, voice low, his tone suddenly sharper.

I didn’t turn my head. Instead, I reached up, pretending to adjust my helmet, subtly angling it toward the shadowy figure standing just beyond the entrance to the garage. “Black jacket. Dark hair. Brown eyes. He’s been watching me, tailing me since I got here.”

Franco’s posture changed. He didn’t tense, didn’t react outwardly, but I felt the shift immediately. His eyes flicked up, searching the area, and then I knew. He saw him too.

“I see him,” Franco muttered under his breath.

I swallowed hard. “He’s not media. Or if he is, he’s not acting like it.”

Franco exhaled through his nose. “Not a fan either. Too calculated.”

I clenched my jaw. “I don’t like this.”

Franco didn’t hesitate. “I’ll stick close.”

There was no room for argument in his voice, and honestly, I didn’t want to argue. The unease in my gut wasn’t going away.

For the next hour, Franco barely left my side. Wherever I moved, he moved. It was subtle, nothing obvious, but I felt the presence of his protection like a shield at my back.

But the man was still there. He never approached, never pulled out a phone, never tried to hide the fact that he was watching.

He was just… waiting.

And I had no idea what for.

Eventually, the call for practice came through. I had to get in the car.

For the first time in my entire career, I hesitated. It was barely a second, but Franco caught it.

He stepped in front of me before I could move toward the garage. “I’ll keep an eye out,” he promised, his voice quieter this time, more serious. “Just focus on the car. I’ll handle everything else.”

I met his eyes, finding an unshakable confidence there. Franco wasn’t just saying it to make me feel better—he meant it.

I swallowed hard and gave him a nod before stepping toward the machine that, for now, was the only thing keeping me safe.

—

FP1 and FP2 had gone better than I could have hoped. The car felt good beneath me, like an extension of my own body, responding with every flick of my hands and push of the throttle. For the first time in what felt like forever, I had complete control. Every lap chipped away at the tension in my muscles, the weight of my family, the eerie presence of the man from earlier.

Because, since I had climbed into the car for FP1, I hadn’t seen him.

No lingering shadow. No dark, unblinking eyes watching from the distance. No figure lurking near the garages.

For a few blissful hours, I had let myself believe maybe it was over. Maybe he had been a journalist looking for a story and given up. Maybe he had been a fan who lost interest. Maybe I was just being paranoid.

But paranoia had kept me alive before.

The pit lane was still buzzing as I wandered toward the garage, looking for Franco. The sun had long started its descent, casting a deep amber glow over the paddock. Team members shuffled back and forth, some hauling equipment, others lost in conversation.

I pulled out my phone, quickly typing out a message.

Me: Where are you? Ready to head back.

I kept walking as I waited for a response, my bag slung over my shoulder. That’s when I felt it.

That same crawling sensation on the back of my neck.

Like I was being watched.

My grip on my phone tightened. I resisted the urge to turn around too fast, instead slowing my pace slightly, angling my head just enough to look like I was looking off to the side with my helmet, but being able to see directly behind me secretly. 

And there he was.

The man.

Closer than before.

I felt my pulse spike.

He was no longer keeping his distance, no longer lurking on the edge of the crowd. He was moving with purpose, weaving through the garage area, eyes locked on me.

The air in my lungs turned ice cold.

No. No, no, no.

I picked up my pace, forcing my legs to move faster without making it obvious I was running. Maybe if I could just lose him in the crowd. Maybe if I turned into one of the side garages and circled back—

I risked another glance over my shoulder.

He was gaining.

Shit.

A fresh wave of adrenaline hit my bloodstream, sending my heart hammering against my ribs. My breaths came short and quick, hands clammy as I clutched my phone tighter.

Move.

I turned sharply, ducking into the narrow space between the team garages, slipping past stacks of equipment, dodging between mechanics. I kept my head low, my heart pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears. The noise of the paddock felt distant now, drowned out by the single, undeniable fact that this man was not just following me.

He was hunting me.

My mind raced. Who the hell was he? What did he know? Had he figured out who I was? 

I darted past the Red Bull garage, hoping to find Lando, Oscar—anyone—but no familiar faces stood out.

Then, in my desperation, I made a mistake.

I turned a corner too fast.

And ran straight into a wall.

A person.

Solid muscle. Broad shoulders. A firm grip that caught me before I could hit the ground.

“What the—” The voice was sharp, but familiar.

I looked up, breathless, and my stomach dropped.

Max Verstappen.

I barely registered the look of confusion on his face before I tried to push away, my body still running in full-blown panic mode. But Max didn’t let go.

His hands tightened slightly on my arms, eyes narrowing as he took me in—really looked at me.

I must’ve looked nervous. My chest was rising and falling too fast, my body trembling. The rush of fear hadn’t left my body yet.

Max’s expression shifted, something calculating settling in his gaze. He glanced past me, over my shoulder, and his body tensed just slightly.

I didn’t have to turn around to know what he saw.

The man was still there.

Still following.

Max didn’t hesitate.

“Come with me.” His voice was low, firm. No room for argument.

I barely had time to nod before he pulled me with him, turning sharply into the Red Bull hospitality area. I stumbled slightly, still shaken, but Max didn’t slow down.

He maneuvered through the hallways with the ease of someone who had spent more years in this paddock than anywhere else. I forced my legs to keep up, my mind struggling to catch up to what was happening.

Only when he reached his driver’s room did he finally let go.

Max shut the door behind us, locking it with a quiet click.

The silence was deafening.

I finally exhaled, chest still rising and falling in uneven gasps.

Max turned to face me fully, crossing his arms. “Alright,” he said, voice edged with something unreadable. “Now, you’re going to tell me who the hell is following you.”

And just like that, I knew my secret was on the verge of unraveling.

I swallowed hard, my pulse still erratic as I forced myself to take a deep breath. The panic was still there, lingering in my fingertips, in the way my legs still felt ready to bolt, but I couldn’t let it take over. Not now.

Max’s sharp blue eyes were locked onto me, arms crossed over his chest as he waited for an answer. There was no escaping this conversation.

“I—I don’t know who he is,” I admitted, my voice modulated weirdly by the voice changer embedded in my helmet. “I don’t know what he wants. But I have a feeling he’s either a reporter trying to dig into my identity or just some crazy guy trying to intimidate me.”

Max didn’t react at first. He simply studied me, expression unreadable. Then, with a sharp exhale, he pulled out his phone and started typing.

“What are you doing?” I asked, still trying to get my breathing under control.

“Getting security to handle it,” Max said simply, not even looking up from his phone. “If he’s a journalist, he’ll get removed. If he’s a threat, they’ll take care of it.” He sent the message, then finally met my gaze again. “You should’ve told someone earlier.”

I shifted on my feet, glancing toward the door like I expected the man to be on the other side. “Didn’t want to make a big deal out of it, but I told Franco in case”

Max huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “That’s stupid.”

I blinked at him, slightly taken aback by the bluntness.

“I mean it,” he continued. “If someone is following you around a paddock like this, you tell someone. There are too many cameras and too little security guards for people to get away with that shit. You shouldn’t have to deal with it alone.”

I hesitated, then nodded. “…Thanks.”

Max shrugged, like it was nothing, before dropping down onto the couch in his drivers’ room. He gestured for me to sit, and after a moment’s pause, I did.

He leaned back, stretching out. “You know, you’re the only rookie I haven’t really talked to yet.”

I raised a brow behind my helmet. “Oh?”

Max nodded, his expression softening slightly. “Yeah. You’re kind of a mystery, you know? Everyone knows the others, but you? Nobody even knows your name.” He smirked. “It drives the media crazy.”

I let out a small laugh at that. “That’s the goal.”

Max hummed in approval, then tilted his head slightly. “So, how’s your first season going?”

It was such a normal question, such a casual question, that it took me a second to process it. He wasn’t prying, wasn’t pushing. He was just… talking.

And it felt nice.

I leaned back slightly, letting out a breath. “It’s been… a lot,” I admitted. “Good, bad, stressful, incredible—every emotion possible.”

Max nodded knowingly. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

There was a brief pause before he added, “You’re doing well, though. People didn’t know what to expect from you at first, but you’ve proven you belong here.”

I blinked at him. “Coming from a four-time world champion, that’s a big compliment.”

Max smirked. “Five-time soon.”

I snorted. “Confident, huh?”

He shrugged. “Just realistic.”

I couldn’t help but smile a little beneath my helmet.

Max’s expression shifted slightly, something more thoughtful crossing his features. “Listen, I know this sport can be… overwhelming. And I know keeping your identity secret probably makes it ten times harder.”

He wasn’t wrong.

“So,” he continued, “if you ever need advice, or just… someone to talk to, I don’t mind.”

I tilted my head. “You want to be my mentor or something?”

Max chuckled. “Let’s just say, I’ve been where you are. Coming in as a rookie, people doubting you, feeling like you have to prove yourself every single weekend. I get it.”

I was quiet for a moment before nodding. “Thanks, Max.”

His smirk returned. “Don’t thank me yet. I’m a terrible mentor.”

I laughed, feeling some of the tension from earlier finally fading.

Maybe Max Verstappen wasn't so scary after all.

—

The paddock had long since quieted, the chaos of the day giving way to the stillness of the night. The only sounds in the dimly lit hotel room were the low hum of the air conditioning and the occasional creak from the walls settling.

I sat on the edge of the bed, scrolling mindlessly through my phone, exhaustion weighing heavy on my limbs but refusing to let me sleep. The adrenaline from the day had only just begun to wear off. My talk with Max had helped ease some of the tension, but the lingering paranoia from earlier still clung to me like a second skin.

And then—my phone buzzed.

A single notification. A message from an unknown number.

I frowned, tapping the screen. The moment I read the words, the blood in my veins turned to ice.

I know who you are. And so will the rest of the world soon.

My breath hitched. I blinked rapidly, as if rereading it would somehow change the meaning.

Another buzz.

Unless, of course, we can come to an agreement.

A cold shiver crawled up my spine.

No. No, this wasn’t happening. Not now. Not when everything had just started falling into place.

My hands trembled as I clutched the phone, my vision blurring at the edges. I was frozen for a moment, caught between disbelief and rising panic. And then, before I could stop myself, I was dialing.

The ringing felt like it stretched on forever before a familiar, slightly groggy voice answered.

“Do you have any idea what time it is?”

“I can’t get caught. I can’t. Not now.”

My voice cracked.

A pause. Then, a sharp intake of breath before a much deeper serious voice spoke. “What happened?”

I swallowed, gripping the phone tighter. “Someone—some journalist—they messaged me. They say they know.”

There was a rustling sound on the other end of the line, like sheets being thrown aside. Nico was awake now. Fully alert.

“Send me the messages,” he said, voice steady, controlled. “Now.”

I did, my fingers shaking as I forwarded the texts. The second the messages were delivered, I pressed the phone back to my ear, waiting.

The silence stretched.

Finally, Nico spoke, his voice measured but firm. “We don’t panic.”

A bitter laugh bubbled up in my throat. “That’s easy for you to say.”

“We don’t panic,” he repeated. “First, we confirm what they actually know. This could be a bluff, just someone fishing for a reaction. We don’t give them one. No response. Not yet.”

My pulse pounded against my ribs, but I nodded even though he couldn’t see me. “And if they do know?”

A sigh. “Then we handle it. But I promise you, we will handle it.”

I pressed a hand to my forehead, trying to steady my breathing. The weight in my chest was suffocating, the fear clawing its way up my throat.

“You’re not alone in this,” Nico continued. “Try to get some sleep.”

Sleep? That was impossible.

I didn’t say anything, just hummed vaguely in response.

“…I mean it,” he added, softer this time.

I exhaled shakily. “Okay.”

But even as I hung up, the phone clutched tightly in my hands, I knew sleep wouldn’t come.

I stayed awake for hours, staring at the ceiling, waiting for the next message. Waiting for the next move in a game I never wanted to play.

—

The paddock should have felt like home. The steady hum of engines, the flashes of cameras, the voices blending into a chaotic blur—it was the one place I usually felt grounded. But today, everything felt off. Every sound grated against my nerves. Every glance felt like it lingered too long.

I barely made it past the garage before a firm grip caught my arm.

“Walk with me.”

I stiffened at first but quickly recognized the voice. Max.

He didn’t wait for a response, steering me toward a quieter part of the paddock, away from the prying eyes of cameras and journalists. His grip was firm but not forceful, his steps quick and deliberate. My heart pounded, exhaustion from the night before pressing heavily on my bones. I already knew this wasn’t just some casual chat.

Once we were tucked into a corner where no one could eavesdrop, he turned to face me, arms crossed, his usual smirk nowhere to be seen.

“You need to tell me the truth,” he said.

My stomach twisted. “About what?”

Max exhaled through his nose, clearly unimpressed. “I got a text this morning. Some journalist is trying to blackmail me.”

My blood ran cold.

“They’re saying you and I were together in my driver’s room,” he continued, his voice sharp. “That we’re hiding some secret relationship. That it would ‘look bad’ since we’re from different teams.” He scoffed, shaking his head. “It’s a weak angle, but if they spin it right, it could still cause problems.”

I swallowed hard, but the pressure in my chest only grew heavier.

“Max… that’s not all,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

His eyes narrowed slightly. “What do you mean?”

I hesitated before forcing the words out. “I got a message last night. From the same number. They said they know who I am.”

Max’s entire body stiffened. His brows furrowed in confusion, but beneath that, I could see something else—concern.

“You mean—?”

I nodded, pulse hammering in my ears. “They know, or at least they think they do. I don’t know if they have real proof or if it’s just a bluff, but I can’t take the risk.”

Max let out a slow breath, rubbing a hand down his face. For a moment, he didn’t say anything. Then, suddenly, his expression hardened with a sense of finality.

“Okay,” he said. “Here’s what we do.”

I watched as his frustration shifted into something sharper, more determined.

“We play into their first angle,” he said. “They want a story? Fine. We give them one.”

I frowned. “What?”

Max’s lips twitched, but there was no real humor behind it. “They think we’re hiding some secret relationship. Instead, we show them the truth—just not the truth they want.” He tilted his head. “They want scandal? We give them a mentor and mentee dynamic. You and me, working together. I’ll be your ‘grid dad’ or whatever you rookies call it.”

Despite everything, I let out a small huff. “Grid dad?”

“You got a better plan?”

I hesitated, considering it. “No… actually, I think that might work.”

“Of course it will,” Max said. Then, his voice softened. “I’ll also get my lawyers on this. They’ll work with your manager to find out exactly what this journalist knows and shut them down before they can do anything.”

I looked at him then, really looked at him. Max Verstappen, the reigning world champion, who had no real reason to go out of his way to help me. And yet, here he was, protecting me like I was one of his own.

“You don’t have to do all this,” I murmured.

Max gave me a pointed look. “You’re part of the grid. That means you’re one of us. And if someone comes after one of us, they deal with all of us. Sure, right now, you don’t have all of us, but you do have me. And I have power both inside and outside the paddock. ”

For the first time in hours, I felt like I could breathe again. If only just a few shallow breaths, it was something, it was an improvement.

I didn’t know what the journalist truly had on me, but at least now, I wasn’t fighting this battle alone.

Taglist: @widow-cevans @honethatty12 @wierdflowerpower @imlonelydontsendhelp @thatsnotaddy @freyathehuntress

[artsyannierose]

Do you think Sonic hugging Amy back is something that developed or was done randomly? He isn't always a fan of hugs, but what do you think?

HI ANON THANKS FOR THE ASK!!

i know a lot of people think sonic has always liked amy but was just shy about it…me personally though? I kinda think that initially he was like, confused and didnt really dwell upon it

like classic sonic saved amy cause he’s a good kid he wasn’t just gonna leave her there

but then he sprinted away

“ok she’s safe…she hugs me too tight ima leave now”

likely that he was grossed out by the thought of girls romantically and wasn’t fond of getting glomped every time she showed up (it literally activates his fight or flight response its so funny 😭)

but then time went on and amy found more and more responsibilities and obligations and other non-sonic-related things that she was pretty darn busy yet was also included in more of sonic’s adventures (i’d say starting after generations?) so she kind of got used to having him around and vice versa. So she kinda started hugging him less cause she saw him so often it’s not like she could hug him every living breathing second.

For Sonic’s part, he’s never really been one for hugs, unless there’s some seriously dire circumstances (e.g. leaving Chris, reuniting with Amy, finally getting rid of the metal virus)

and in the games he like, never hugs anyone, so the fact that he hugged her back in frontiers was quite epochal considering the direction of their relationship in the idw comics

actually you know this is a trend common in most iterations of sonic (though movie sonic does like hugs):

despite prime sonic being quite the hugger, he still didn’t really hug people back when they hugged him:

he just kinda lets things happen but doesn’t particularly instigate them himself

so personally, I think that since Amy kind of toned down her affections, Sonic realized how habituated he had gotten to her attention. This is especially evident in Sonic unleashed when he showed little to no reaction to her hugging his werehog form

yet crashed out HARD when she didn’t recognize him

like bye he’s so dependent on her attention and none of us realized it until it was gone (neither did sonic so i feel better)

i think it’s after this that he started seeing her physical affection (like hugs) as less of an annoyance and more of a prerogative

but i suppose its notable that sonic never pushed amy away from him (SHUT IT ABOUT GENERATIONS THAT WAS SO OOC) just kind verbally told her to get off him

but like specifically in the idw comics he started reciprocating her physical affection after issue #2; he became way more comfortable around amy in general after that issue so that includes her physical familiarity. It was extremely pivotal because there’s a stark difference between his attitude towards her prior to that moment and after it.

Whereas in the games i believe it was more of a natural progression from distaste to discomfort to unperturbed to ambivalence to fondness to crap-i-don’t-like-not-having-this

I hope that answers your question!

i think we have yet to see sonic really, truly embrace amy back but perhaps we’ll see that in the movies…..or perhaps im just delusional

……..i love them so much 🥹🥹

[cecilyv]

Tidbit Tuesday

tagged by @rcmclachlan (who I'm officially stealing the tag for this wip from)

@liminalmemories21 wouldn't let us start writing this until we finished Comedy of Errors, which we posted on Saturday.

It's been two days, for all intents and purposes, and we're already 12.5k deep. She's a smart cookie.

They go through several villages that appear abandoned before they come to a river. They’re following it downstream, in hopes of finding actual civilization, when an arrow shoots past Dr Han’s ear. He freezes, instead of ducking -- something they’ll have to work on… later. Tommy spins but doesn’t see anyone.  Another arrow whizzes by, just missing his left ear. Gerrard’s behind a tree, telling Sal to circle around where they just came from -- “Not a great shot,” he murmurs, “you can get the drop on him.” Tommy disagrees, thinks it took a great shot to miss them that closely.  Gerrard orders them to be quiet, but Tommy -- “Hello? We mean you no harm, we just arrived and we’re looking to trade.” He puts his gun down and raises his hands and can hear Gerrard whispering furiously behind him. Dr Han comes up beside him, hands raised as well.  “We come in peace,” he says, making a Vulcan-salute. The absolute moron. And he’s the one who was a part of Stargate before they came to Atlantis, he should actually know how to make first contact.  Tommy loves him.  A man emerges from the bushes, dressed in homemade leather gear, his bow cocked with an arrow ready to fly.  “Who are you?” Tommy asks, watching as Sal appears behind the man’s shoulder, gun trained on his back.  “Who am I?” he asks, then repeats, “Who are you?” Two more people appear behind Sal, an older man and woman, dressed the same. Tommy gestures for him to look. Sal lowers his weapon.  “This is not a game of who the fuck am I!” Gerrard barks. “I am Colonel Vincent Gerrard of the United States Marine Corps, and I demand to talk to your leader.”  “No, who’s on first, what’s on second,” Tommy mutters. Although apparently not quite quietly enough for Dr Han not to hear it because he abruptly starts coughing into his fist.

tagging @geddyqueer, @owlgirl495 @alchemistc and anyone else who wants to play at this late hour.

[shysuccubusstuff]

Obsessed! M!Whitney

Content: Obsessed behaviour + Stalking + Degradation + Underwear stealing + Skin writing + dacryphilia + foul language + Public NSFW encounter + Masturbation; Non proof-reading

Note: I've been working so much with the L&DS men that I forgot my other men... I hope everyone is having a nice week! I'm already writing a Husband! Sylus fic, but I'm still working on the naughty part... Since I don't really see him as someone that would actually act in extreme ways for the person he loved (mainly cause their lover would probably get mad/freak out), I chose to look for someone that would actually accept it! Let me know if you want more about this game!! ♡♡

Obsessed! Whitney who at first simply approaches you as he has done to many others. After all, he was simply looking for a new toy that could entertain him a bit, who could be best than someone that was in the same class at him?

Obsessed! Whitney who starts to become a bit too interested in you. He does the same thing he has always done to the rest, forcing you to undress in the middle of the road while his friends take pictures and say nasty things about you, and despite he keeps on laughing each time you try to cover your face, he notices a strange knot in his stomach each time one of his friends tries to touch you a bit too much for his liking. In fact, he even has to restrain himself from punching him on the face, which is weird, as he usually has no issue sharing with them as long as he gets the first taste.

Obsessed! Whitney who begins to write more posessive messages all over your body. At first the messages were simply things like: "cumdump" or maybe "cumslut", but as the two of you begin to become closer, the messages become more... clear. With your inner thighs being completely marked by his teeth mark, together with permanent marker that said things like: "Whitney's slut", with his friends simply laughing acting as if they didn't notice that... strange glimpse on his eyes.

Obsessed! Whitney who begins to save your underwear in his room. He keeps telling you to not wear underwear, but he keeps on finding himself fisting his dick with your underwear wrapped around his cock, lewd sounds and curses coming out of his mouth as he tries his best not to remember your stupid face with those stupidly cute eyes. The next day, he has bite marks over his left hand, and he somehow seems to be in an even worse mood, as he keeps clicking his tongue each time you get remotely close to him, still, the only thing you can do is wonder what the hell is wrong that day with him.

Obsessed! Whitney who only becomes more and more fixated on you the hardest he tries to play cool. He keeps forcing himself to get used to sharing you with his friends, used to seeing you on the floor while some other fucker tries to have their way with you... His little plan comes crashing down the second he finds you with that fucking loser, what was his name? Oh yeah, Kylar, that frail boy who kept stealing glances at you every time he thought nobody was looking. Guess it was his turn to show who you truly belonged to, right? So he made his way inside the small closet and closing the door behind him. He suddenly grabbed you by the collar, pulling you to the floor and forcing you to get on your knees as he unbuttons his trousers, rapidly removing his underwear in front of the two of you.

"Who would have guessed that the loser would fall in love with my slut? Guess it's time to show him just how much you love my dick, yeah? Open up, slut." He wrapped his hand around his cock, moving the tip towards your lips as he smiled wickedly. His other hand grabbed you by your hair, pulling it so you finally opened your mouth, your tongue lolling out as if you were trying to mess with him. He tightened the grip around your hair, forcing his whole length into your mouth until he hit the back of your throat as you tried your best not to gag on it. "Come on slut, tighten that fucking throat, we have someone watching..." He started to move his hips on a ruthless pace, forcing you to constantly gasp for air as you kept trying your hardest, fat tears rolling down your cheeks as you kept receiving his harsh thrusts against your uvula. This kept going for a few minutes, the closet being filled with the lewd sounds of you choking on his cock, together with the faint sounds of Kylar's crying (and maybe some other wet sound...). Without warning, Whitney put both of his hands on the back of your head, a slightly salty liquid filling your mouth as he held you on your place, heavy ropes of cum falling down your throat as you kept trying to swallow it as fast as possible. "I hope this reminds you who you truly belong to, slut." Without saying anything else, Whitney leaves, looking at you one last time before going to the following class.

Obsessed! Whitney who starts to see you more and more outside of class. He begins to wait at the front gate every single day, always making some poor excuse for him to separate from his group. This strange behaviour only increases, as you start to see him everywhere, from math classes to the park, even sometimes feeling as if you were being followed while walking around the alleways of the city. In fact, you even notice how you stop being harassed by most people, with them simply looking at you with a mixture of desire and restrain. Who would guess that it was thanks to Whitney's threats that you would finally be able to walk around the city more or less safe?

Obsessed! Whitney who starts following you around the whole school, forcing you to have your arm wrapped around his, only letting you away for some time as he speaks with his friends, his hand trailing around your naked lower half, his fingers barely rubbing against it as you force yourself to keep a straight face, making him grin as soon as he notices your useless squirming. This not only allows him to state his position as your boyfriend, but he even gets to see the looks on the faces of all those losers that you had been fucking while he wasn't around, God, he just loves seeing their faces crumble to pieces.

[nexkoyotl]

Warriors dump facts pt.2

I'm so happy you guys enjoy the first list so I brought another one.

Again, these are facts from the movie/Comic and the Rockstar video game, that are not canon to each other.

(I also include some facts from the original script)

Starting with the most common one, Cleon actually dies, beaten to death by the Riffs

Rembrandt and Fox were said to be best friends

Cleon and Vermin kill the leader of the Destroyers by burning him

Ajax dislikes not only Swan but also Fox, and they have a rivalry in the original script

Before meeting the Warriors, Mercy knew they were being hunted because she was listening to the radio

Different from the album Rembrandt is the youngest one of the ones that go to the meeting, not Fox

Cleon "hires" some homeless people by giving them licor if they fight their new members to prove them

In the game, the Warriors recover health by taking a drug called "Flash"

Luther beat a cop to death and wears the badge in his vest

He also got the gun with which he shot Cyrus from that same cop

Ajax and Swan were the 2 considered by Cleon to be Warchief, they decide with a fight that Swan wins

Cowboy got in a fight with a Destroyer because he made fun of his hat

Swan has a pocket knife that is really special to him. It's a keepsake, and he used it to fight Luther at the end

Fox real name is Francis

The Warriors have a youth worker like most gangs had

Having a youth worker hints that the Warriors were probably mostly young people either teenager or young adults

Snow didn't talk In the original idea of the film

The Warriors have an "alliance" with a gang called the Saracens, they are the ones to help them put the Warriors under the riffs radar

Difference from the Album, in the movie and game the Rouges are very loyal to Luther even when he's a dick to all

The Turnbull AC's (Yes the first gang that goes after the Warriors) have a band

Like I said before, Cleon gets killed at the meeting, instead is Fox who sees Luther shot Cyrus

Besides Fox there was someone elese who saw this (We never know who it is) and this person tells the Riffs, saving the Warriors

The person with whom Luther talks in the phone is unknown but is called "The Boss", it has never been revela who it was or why

Some believe "The boss" actually hired Luther since he's crazy enough to do a thing like kill the most respected leader for fun

The Bizzies are based on the gang The Lizziez, which is technically the same, but women since the og warriors were male

After the events of THAT night the riffs send a gang called the hi-hats to mess with the warriors in Coney

Cochise was supposed to die in the original plan of the movie, killed by the baseball furies

The name "Masai" is not a name from the movie, he wasn't named until the game

Both Ajax and Snow enter the gang at the same time

And in that same night, they lose their Vest and have to go get them back

The gang the Boppers own a strip club called the black cat where the Warriors go even tho the Boppers have beef with them

Vermin has a crush in a stripper from this place

The game puts Snow as the muscle besides Ajax, but in a deleted scene, it is said to be Cochise and Snow, the music man

With that Vermin is the "bearer" but he never bears anything, most of the time is Snow

Ajax gets stabbed by a baseball fury in Jail

Cochise was supposed to be killed by the baseball furies

Vermin was supposed to be killed by the Lizzies

Fox was supposed to live

And Swan was supposed to be kidnapped by a gang of gay men called the Dingos, tho he escapes and makes it back to Coney

Rembrandt was convinced by a friend to join the Warriors, this friend was Ash, another warrior

Before that this both friends admired the Destroyers

Warrior dump facts.

As a teenager, The Warriors was my special interests and I LOVE the movie and I used to play the Rockstar game when i was younger and now I LOVE the Lin & Eisa album so, here are some facts from the movie (+the comics) and game (Not canon to each other) to give you guys ideas for fanfics, fanarts, etc.

I'll refer to them as their masculine counterpart since I'm talking about the movie/comic/game, where all (except Mercy) are men.

Warrior facts.

The most known fact, 2 warriors weren't included in the album, Vermin and Snow

The Warriors get their money by mugging, and selling Stereos they steal from cars

Cleon has a Girlfriend named Lincoln, she was supposed to appear at the start of the movie but they deleted the scene

Mercy hated that his then boyfriend Sully (Yes, the guy from the Orphans) care more for his car

The warriors and the riffs brake Ajax out of prison

Cochise lived in Harlem until he and his mother moved to Brooklyn

Rembrandt is gay

Ajax has like a few girlfriends

The warriors started as part of another gang "The Destroyers" they had problems with the leader so Cleon and Vermin left and formed the Warriors

(Not sure if this is true) Fox was supposed to be Mercy's love interest at first

The warriors make some Coney businesses pay them for protection, 25$ weekly I think

Their hangout is an old abandoned building that, to me, looked like a storage for the amusement park

Cochise lived in Harlem, yes but didn't join the boppers 'cuse he thought they weren't tough and he didn't like their colors.

In a deleted scene, Cleon said there's like 120 warrior members

Mercy dated a rich guy. He gets her an apartment and other stuff. This, of course, causes trouble between her and Swan

Ajax sucks at pinball

Rembrandt can use both hands, he's ambidextrous (dunno if I wrote it right)

Cowboy is really protective of his hat, and calls it buddy

Rembrandt also goes to an art class

Swan was a destroyer too, but him and Cowboy left the gang before Cleon created the warriors

Then Cleon ask Swan to join the warriors, and he accepts only under the condition of them accepting cowboy too

Only Cleon, Vermin, Swan, and Cowboy were Destroyers first. The rest arrived directly to the Warriors

Mercy dated the rich guy to get her apartment because she thought the Warriors life was no way to live

Technically, Mercy and Swan are not really together, tho Swan insist for her to go back to Coney with him

They (Mercy and Swan) end up reconciliating, and she goes back to living with him in Coney

Rembrandt sprays paint on his enemies faces as a fighting attack

Before Fox, they also lost a member named Ash, the leader of the Destroyers killed him

He (Ash) was also really close to Vermin, and his death affects him pretty deeply

Rembrandt's art teacher tries to convince him that the gang is only using him and to leave it so he drops his class

Mercy was not only Sully's girlfriend but also the Orphans' prostitute

Rembrandt gives Swan a drawing of Mercy that he made for him

After Cyrus' death, everything went back to the "normal". The truce was off, and the gangs went against each other again

This is not an IN movie/game fact, just a movie/game fact, but still interesting

You may know the movie symbol, a skull with feathers. Well, this symbol looked too similar to an actual gang that sued them, so it changed to a snake in flames

These are some of it, if I remember more, I'll do another list, but I think this are the most important. Do with this information as you guys pleased.

[gh0st-ratt]

DBDA character colour dynamics

Dead Boy Detectives did something really fun with giving each main character a 'hero colour', and utilised that to make subtle stories about that character as their colours change. And I want to talk about it and flex my knowledge of the colour wheel.

I'm not going to go through every colour and what they represent because I know a lot of people have done that (Asidian is one of note, go check those out they're really good)

But what I will talk about is opposing colours - also referred to as complimentary colours - and how they inform character dynamics.

The show very clearly presents the four main characters' primary colour palette or 'hero colours', especially with what they wear. Edwin is always wearing his blue-toned school uniform, and I think it is a wonderful representation of his character that the outfit is not a bright, clear blue. I know there was talk about a version of Edwin's outfit being a blue suit (which would have looked amazing but I prefer the outfit we were given for analysis sake), but Edwin's outfit being a subtler representation of his hero colour ties into him presenting himself as a subtle character.

He keeps to himself, and no one really gets to know how he really is until they get close, he's often got a large coat covering everything else - his colour is so barely obvious because he does not let himself be obvious.

There's also the matter of colour meanings (which I won't get too into), as Edwin represents blue; blue as in calm, but also blue as in sadness. Edwin is a very put together character. But he's also a very lonely character. He's almost always wearing a dull blue.

A fun thing with having colour-coded-characters is that there is opportunity for there to be hidden implications between characters of opposing colour schemes. I'm not actually sure if the show meant to play with these implications, because a lot of the characters don't have attributed colours, but I never doubt costume designers and it's fun to imagine.

Edwin's colour is blue, and the opposing colour of blue is in fact orange. And I don't know about other people, but I see the Cat King to be representative of the colour orange. He's introduced as a ginger cat, he's wearing earthy tones every time we see him during that Life, and he's got that sparkly coat from ep6 (which I will touch on later).

And that makes dynamics really fun. Because it again positions Edwin and the Cat King as oppositions on another, subtler level. The Cat King is constantly trying to push Edwin to be less reserved, to act on what he feels; he's pushing his buttons, he's pulling his pigtails, he's being a real fucking shit, and the general opposite of how Edwin tries to present himself.

But, blue and orange are also complimentary colours; they bring out how different the other looks, and make them more vibrant (some even say "they bring out the best in each other"). And you can definitely argue that those things all happen between Edwin and the Cat King.

The Cat King's influence allows Edwin to accept himself more than he has been repressing for his entire life. And the Cat King is finally shown someone who isn't taking his shit and not falling into him easy, and actually almost causes some self reflection.

These colours as representing actually expands in the scene where the Cat King appears in The Creeping Forest, he is wearing a coat that is mostly blue, but with orange/brown details. And Edwin is wearing an outfit that has blue/teal underneath, with his brown coat on top. They're influencing each other! Edwin lets the Cat King get closer for a moment, and the Cat King has been letting Edwin unconsciously endear himself to the Cat King.

Then there is their final interaction, where the Cat King has changed lives and also changed colours. He is no longer opposing or complimenting Edwin, his colour is now the shade of black. They are no longer at odds, they have completed their game.

NOW about Edwin's confession-attempt sweater.

His sweater is a greener colour than he has been wearing for the entirety of the show (more of a teal). Green is in fact the opposing/complimentary colour of red. It could be seen as Edwin - attempting to create a 'perfect confession' to Charles - going for a colour that compliments him better than his typical blue tones.

This makes the confession in hell all the more impactful because Edwin is only wearing white in that scene - he's not complimenting or opposing anyone, he's confessing rushed, unplanned, in the worst of places, but that doesn't matter! Because Edwin and Charles have never been complimentary colours in the 3 decades they've known each other and that's okay! That's great even! Charles doesn't need Edwin to compliment/oppose him in character colours and he expresses that with his response to Edwin's confession.

This lack of colour is presented in episode 1, in the moments where it's just Edwin and Charles alone in their office, working out a case, they've both stripped down into their underclothes, shedding their character colours. In those moments their colours and subsequent balances don't matter, because it's just them.

A fun thing that I always love with duo characters is when there is a warm-toned character and a cool-toned character, and Charles and Edwin are that exactly. Charles has the warm colour of red, as well as a darker jacket and coat and gold (warm) jewellery. Edwin has cool tones of dulled blue blazer, dark blue vest and bow tie, and a lighter brown coat.

I'm actually going to recommend that you check out some gifsets of the show and characters because there are creators out there who colour their gifs showing the warm/cool tones really well, even between characters and the background. (wordsinhaled, sasakiniko, every-moment-a-different-sound, to name a few, there's definitely more)

-

I'm sure most people know about the infamous red-smear hospital design tumblr post and the double-meanings of the colour red, so I won't get too into that. That being said:

Red represents passion, strength, love, etc. But it also represents anger and danger. Having Charles' hero colour be red allows for representation of his constant internal battle. He tries so so hard to be there for his friends, to be liked, to be the one "keeping spirits up", but he's also terrified that his anger makes him a "bad guy", and that he really is just his father. By being his hero colour, he allows himself to be both. But he's also claiming it as his own in a way.

There's also the matter of Charles losing his hero colour as he gets more and more distressed throughout the show. He's losing all that the colour represents, but he's also losing himself. He doesn't feel like a hero anymore. When his shirt is black, the show isn't toned as warmly. He isn't toned as warmly.

But then there's the moment in episode 5. (I've seen this in a post but I cannot find it so if anyone knows lmk and I'll mention the creator) The episode 5 hug, when Charles expresses all his fears to Edwin of becoming what he's afraid of and all that he's hidden. Edwin, as he reassures Charles: tugs at Charles' lapels, straightens a pin, and lifts Charles' coat collar, exposing the red underneath. Edwin brings back Charles' hero colour to him, even before his shirt changes back on its own.

Charles' colour opposition is against himself not anyone coloured green. Toning his shirt darker is a brilliant way to demonstrate how he feels like he is growing darker and less of a hero, and it's subtle enough that you don't notice it all the time. Also it would've looked horrific having his shirt turn slowly green.

There's also the matter of the colouring of the lights of Heaven and Hell. I know that Heaven is coloured blue because in the Sandman comics they present Death taking someone with a black wing shape over blue - which the show uses.

Edwin's hero colour is blue, the colour of Heaven, which is ironic because he has only ever been destined for Hell. However, it is prominent especially in the scene of Charles choosing to go with Edwin instead of Death. We see the bright blue of Death pour in from the window, but Charles doesn't choose that light, he chooses Edwin instead, a different shade of blue.

What's also interesting is that Charles isn't red in that moment; it's the same set of colours as the confession, one of them isn't wearing their hero colour, the other is, and the connection between them still works.

Charles chooses Edwin over Heaven. Edwin's confession is accepted. 30+ years and they still don't need that colour compliment. But I digress.

There's also the matter that Hell's colour is represented by red. A bright, brilliant red. Very similar to Charles' typical shirt.

Now I could say how Charles would recognise that as him being hellish, or similar to Hell in anyway BUT instead I am going to say how, while Edwin may be destined for Hell, he doesn't get it, he gets something else red that is much much more lovely.

The boys hero colours represent what each other's afterlives would be, but they don't need those afterlives because they have each other representing them anyway.

--

Okay move over boys I want to talk about Crystal

Crystal's hero colour is also quite obvious from the get-go, as she is almost always wearing some shade of purple, and when she isn't, I feel like they colour tone her hair so it looks a little reddish-purple (check out ep3 and 6 and tell me if I'm insane).

The choice for purple as her colour is perfect because while purple is a dark colour and often associated with black or red to seem 'evil', it's not a completely menacing colour. Just like Crystal, who may seem harsh or rude (or, as we see in her memories, a real bitch), but is actually just someone who is trying and caring. So, she gets a royal colour.

Purple is also apparently the colour of spirituality, so there's a little reference to her psychic background.

It's also the colour you get when combining blue and red. Crystal is both a combination of Edwin and Charles, but she also allows them to be closer together. Anyway like I said this isn't about them.

I don't think that Crystal wears purple much in the memories we see of her, representing how she wasn't really ever herself in those moments: she was masquerading as someone else. She's also not wearing her hero colour because, well, she's not a hero in those moments.

Purple's opposing colour is in fact yellow. And Crystal's opposition for the majority of the show is David the Demon. Now David isn't really yellow, he's more brown, but I'm preferring to think of it as a tainted, ruined yellow. Because he is of course, a demon. He's ruining Crystal's life, he's ruining the life of the guy he's possessing, he's dirtying everything he puts his hands on, so it makes sense that he'd ruin his colour. It's not much of a hero colour anyway.

I lied earlier, when I said that Crystal doesn't wear purple in her memories, I think she does wear purple when she is with David. Which does make sense! She seems to be trying to be a little bit more herself with him, she even says she "-thought it was love". What's interesting is that the purple she wears in those scenes is a darker purple than we see her in later episodes. That purple is almost menacing, because she's being influenced by a literal demon.

Crystal wearing her hero colour in those scenes also emphasises her contrast to David. They are technically complimenting each other, bringing out the worst, but they're also opposing. David doesn't actually love Crystal, he just wants to possess someone powerful. The context differs with their perspective, but no matter what we can see that they are on completely different ends of the colour wheel. Especially seeing as David's yellow can hardly be called that.

When Crystal brings David to her Mind Tree, where everything is coloured purple, the yellow is cancelled out. You can't see it very well at all, because David is not the one in control, it isn't his turf and it isn't about him. It's Crystal's moment, and bathed in her hero colour, she defeats her villain.

(I don't know why the inside of Crystal's head with the eyes is blue. It doesn't line up with anything I'm analysing and I don't understand it. Maybe it's just cause it looks good)

Niko has a hero colour, but is not defined by it. And I think that's because she does not see herself as a hero. "[She] knows [she's] not the bravest" and she's always a little shocked and excited to be invited on cases; she doesn't see herself within the 'hero' stereotype, and therefore does not often wear her hero colour.

Niko's hero colour is pink, which is interesting for a few reasons, one is that pink doesn't really have an opposing colour. Sometimes pink is just considered an extension of red and therefore green is a possible complimentary colour.

This kind of falls into the idea of Charles and Niko being similar, both trying to stay positive when it feels like their life (or death) is falling apart a bit, both the 'sunshine to a grumpy', both sweethearts. This leads on to my argument that we were robbed of Niko and Charles interactio--

Also the fact that Niko has no opps. Her ever-changing wardrobe stops that and also because how could you hate her.

While other characters' colours tie into where they are in their arc, Niko's outfits seem to tie into the narrative itself.

At the end of Devlin House, Niko comes running towards Edwin, Charles and Crystal wearing green. She has been wearing this the entire episode, which has allowed her to tie into the Sprites' outfits subtly, but now she is with different characters. Now she is complimenting Charles. And this presents on screen as Niko creating a sort of distraction for Charles after the Devlin House; he can ignore what just happened, he can ignore Crystal and Edwin prying, he can just focus, as the red character, on complimenting both Niko's colour and her crowbar, letting Niko balance him out.

Niko seems to only wear her hero colour in the Dead Dragons, as she sends a letter to her mother, and as she plans the date for Jenny and Maxine. This is because, to her, this is the time she is being truly brave and trying something new with new people because she wants to. She's been scared to read her mother's letters and scared to reply, but now she has braved that hill, and therefore can wear her hero colour. This then continues with the date; this is Niko's "-case of [her] own", she's the one instigating something she really thinks is going to benefit those she is trying to help! She's being brave, she's "-been helping a lot of people lately" and this is her doing this for the first time herself!

Niko's use of a blue colour palette in Creeping Forest was probably partially due to Edwin abandoning his typical hero colour to favour the teal sweater, which allows stylistically for there to be a time for Niko to be blue without the colours conflicting.

With Edwin, blue represents both calm and sadness, but with Niko I think while it represents that, it's to a different level. Niko isn't exactly calm about anything that occurs around her in episode 6, but neither is she sad, per say. She's upset about upsetting Jenny and the destruction of her idea of love, but she's more.. ambivalent about what is happening.

What's interesting is when Niko first questions Jenny about her behaviour, she's wearing the blue outfit, but the next day, after she has been thinking over her behaviour and Jenny's reaction, she's wearing an orange outfit! Which we have already established is the opposing colour to blue. Niko has changed her perspective entirely, and her outfit represents that.

And in the final episode, her outfit is white, because she has no more interactions to have, and there is no more narrative for to compliment.

[lovebillyhargrove]

Part 2 of this where Steve's unhappy about the new guy, unhappy about the new guy's car and decides to ruffle his feathers a bit

***

Inhale .. exhale.

In .. out.

Smoking calms him down, always has. Thank fuck for cigarettes.

"I gotta find out who it is. And when I do, I'm gonna skin him alive."

That's got to be him. A girl going to all these lengths ..? Piling up snow all around and on top of a car? Losing her beauty sleep for that?

Nah, girls have other ways to drive a guy crazy. That's got to be a dude. A dead man walking cause Billy will fucking end him.

The latest pranks were pretty innocuous. A couple of moronic licence plates, nothing new, nothing too inventive. The damn prankster must have a collection of them at home, which he's showing off.

Having troubles with imagination? Lacking creativity?

Loser.

But then Billy found this plate screwed to the back of his car, and that was it. That was the last drop that turned him into a beast, thirsty for blood.

It kinda hurt his feelings. What, you can't even fathom Hargrove might actually have a couple of those?

Well, you know about his mom and his dad, the story's not special at all, but it's like the bastard took this very word right out of Neil's hate-spewing mouth. It felt like a low blow.

..

And that's why

Billy doesn't sleep at night anymore. Stays wide awake. Catches up on sleep during daytime when Neil's not at home. Parks the camaro so that he can keep an eye on it, out of his window. Can't really skip classes at school, also cause he doesn't want to let the guy feel he's being spied on. Hargrove's waiting for him to come to the car under the cover of darkness, hoping for good luck.

The universe doesn't let him down this time.

One night when he's sitting near his window in the dark, smoking and building his patience up,

Billy finally sees him.

Well well well, lookie what we got here.

He even stops breathing for a few seconds. Then lets out a quiet scoff.

Steve fucking Harrington — crouching, kneeling beside the camaro.

Of course. Of fucking course, how could Billy be so clueless, so blind ..? He didn't think the preppy prick was capable of something like that?

The fallen king. Pretty boy. The fucking babysitter for fuck's sake. So many faces. The night prowler, voilà.

Hargrove's squint is that of a predator.

Steve Harrington, in all his treacherous glory.

Billy has to fight the urge to deal with the motherfucker right then and there. Beat him up till his face is all bloody and he can't walk.

Hargrove's gripping his own thighs bruising himself, eyes glowing with fiery hatred in the inky blackness that surrounds him.

No.

***

If Steve's absolutely honest, he has run out of ideas lately. He knows the game's getting kinda old and lame but .. His brain just refuses to work that well. Especially when he sees Hargrove swaying his annoying ass around, cool as a damn cucumber, and girls following him around like he's hypnotized them. He's still the centre of everyone's attention, no matter what silly inscription Steve's scribbled on that stupidly hot car.

Maybe he should lay off with his little game, at least for a while, until inspiration hits, like it did back in autumn.

Steve finishes breakfast, glances at the clock. School time.

When he comes up to the beamer, his heart starts beating a little faster and blood rushes to his head.

There's black spray paint all over the hood and the windshield

I KNOW

..

Oh shit.

Shit shit shit!

Suddenly he hears the rapidly approaching car engine roar.

SHIT. That's the camaro's rumble. Harrington recognizes the sound in an instant.

The thunder is coming to get him.

Uh-oh. Guess he's gonna be late for school. Saving his ass seems of bigger importance at the moment.

Steve runs back to the house, in sheer panic, locks the door, draws the blinds on the kitchen window. What should he do ..!?

It's Hargrove alright. The psycho almost hits the beamer when he swerves into the driveway. There's nothing normal about the way Billy drives, he does it like a madman. Gets out of the car ..

With a bat.

Not hesitating a single second, swings it, smashing the BMW's left front light, then swings again — the driver's window follows, glass coming down like a sparkly waterfall.

"Come out, Harrington!" The voice sounds almost cordial. "Let's talk."

Yeah, talk. Okay, Steve absolutely didn't think it through when he started the whole thing. In his defence, he got carried away!!

"Come the fuck out, asshole. Let's see who's the mistake here after all." Drawls Hargrove.

Another swift swing, and the second window is down.

Crap, sharp pain stings Billy's elbow. He cuts himself on glass shards through his long sleeve with one careless movement. In all blinding fury he actually forgot to put his jacket on, it's on the front seat.

And yeah, Max had to get to school early today. The shitbird was pouting the whole evening yesterday when he told her

"Tomorrow morning be ready to leave half an hour early. I have to help Mr. McCarthy before the class starts."

The elbow is definitely bleeding, but Billy doesn't feel any pain.

Does he ever feel any pain anymore?

Hargrove leisurely leans on the beamer's side, takes out a pack of Marlboros, lights up

"So are you coming out or what, Harrington? I just wanna talk, no need to be afraid, amigo." The cigarette is irritatingly dangling between his stupid lips. "Let's have a friendly chit-chat, shall we?"

Circles the car like a vulture.

Bang.

There goes the third window.

Is Harrington fucking insane? Billy's going to ruin his fucking car. He has to crawl out of his hiding hole at some point.

He's there. He's right there, peeking out from behind the blinds.

Unbelievable.

"You know I'm not like .. a violent person, Steve. We can settle it like adults. I have receipts for changing the tyre and uh .. repainting the door. Well .. the moral damage that you have caused me is of course uh .. very serious. I wonder how you will pay me for that, but like I said .. I'm open for discussion."

Nah. The coward is not willing to have a constructive dialogue.

Billy swings the bat for the fourth time when all of a sudden the door of Harrington's house is flung wide open and he runs out holding his own bat,

Studded with sharp nails.

His wild eyes gushing horror

"HARGROVE, LOOK OUT !! BEHIND YOU !!"

***

Blood attracts them, don't you ever forget.

***

Wanted Billy to lure Steve to the quarry and almost throw him off the cliff but then went with this instead.

[mortish-writes]

some reassurances!!! i'm honestly glad you wrote in the zealot route alongside the heretic. i'd argue, from what i've seen, the zealot is pretty popular and she's a breath of fresh air in the genre. as someone personally religious (not christian), its nice to see someone navigate their fate and believe in it, but also come to terms with how it's been abused, revised, etcetera. also, opens the possibility zealot would be into other religions outside the confines of her own, which i find interesting. her also getting an option to hold out until marriage because of her own trauma as a bastard is also juicy and to be fair reflects how some people irl are. it's realistic for people to have misgivings about new arrangements that challenge their beliefs and to still hold onto them, despite revelations, because they decide this aspect at least is still worth keeping,,, zealot mc also has a point bastards won't be treated well and society won't be kind (and she's not hurting someone in choosing not to fornicate until marriage is involved besides the plot). gives her more control of the situation too, as you mentioned, and honestly makes her more proactive. heretic is sweet and deserves a hug, and i do like her, but the biggest reason I find zealot more fun and interesting is because she's punching the plot than just reacting to it like heretic, who's getting the plot's punches (i usually love angst, but imo zealot shapes the plot a bit more than heretic and it works better as an if for me),,, also, her character development will outwardly be more prominent. i can't wait to make her love being a mom and admit she loves these brutes! and that's the other thing too: i prefer her relationship to the guys vs. the heretic's because of taste, especially with valdricht.

so while you probably could've be further along if you just stuck to the heretic, imo it was the zealot who we were first introduced to and made us interested in the game! she still has her fans and i'm really grateful we have more than one way to play the MCs, especially with cult route coming up! sorry, this was long, i just wanted to come and bat for my girl a little bit because she's a big reason i got into the game and i find her more relatable and dynamic.

Wow, I was just about to head to bed and I'm so glad I checked Tumblr first. This is so thoughtful and I really needed to hear this. There's been this invisible gremlin on my shoulder all week grumbling "you could already be on night 10 if you hadn't added another route."

Even though the Heretic route is canon I actually love the Zealot route. I think a lot of times religious characters are written derisively (unless they're like nature worshipers or something) as if they're just mindless sheep. One of the things I really like about the Zealot is that she approaches everything from the framework of her faith, but she's also intelligent and open to learning new things. Far from being mindless, she simply lacks an alternate framework of understanding, and part of her character arc will involve developing that.

At the risk of getting a little too personal, I was raised by a pagan mom in a deeply Christian multi-generational household. Most of my childhood was my mom and my aunt battling for my soul. Weekends were a mix of Bible school and learning to channel energy into crystals. While other kids were playing tag, I'd be sitting in a tree contemplating whether my aunt was crazy or my mom was going to Hell. As an adult, I look back more favorably on my upbringing because it gave me an appreciation for both people of faith and the irreverent folks who give the finger to organized religion.

One of the things I particularly love about the Zealot MC is that her faith gives her the willpower to be more assertive with Valdricht and Serax. She has a better sense of her personal boundaries and she's snarkier even as her former faith is being eroded and replaced with The Weaver's cause. There are also other nuances to her character which I won't spoil, but will reveal how her dedication to her faith made her stronger and more resilient.

At the same time, I love how when the Heretic MC reflects on the same memory as the Zealot, hers is colored with skepticism and a degree of nuance that the Zealot simply isn't capable of. It's clear that she has this deep urge for self-expression and exploration that have been stifled within the confines of the Elodari faith. There's so much potential waiting to burst free when she finally breaks out of that shell.

Anyway, pretty long but it was a really thoughtful message and I'm grateful <3

[lady-october]

Pairing : Oli Sykes x Female Assistant Genre : Romance, Smut (18+ Only) Previous Chapters : Available on Ao3 & Tumblr

Story Content : Smut, Drama, Choking, Power dynamics, Romance, Rough sex, Sadism/Masochism, Dom/Sub, Mentions of addiction & self harm, Degradation, Praise kink, Exhibitionism, Orgasm denial, Breath play, Dirty talk, Blood kink, Anal.

Summary :

“Don’t you see what a dangerous game you’re playing? Why did you have to look so fucking delicious tonight, I couldn’t stop undressing you in my mind, thinking of all the twisted things I want to do to you.” She had only worked on the touring team for three weeks, but her mind had been hijacked by dirty thoughts of a man she barely even talked to. Sure, he was very attractive, but were there other reasons she was so uncontrollably drawn to him? This is a filthy story of pain, self discovery, and love.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Chapter 31:

Like a deer in the headlights

Chapter title is lyrics from "Deathbeds”

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Her eyes are like liquid pools, the colour of the night sky, so black they bordered blue under the white, fluorescent lights.

I knew who she was before she got close enough to talk to me. Close enough for me to see the unnaturally dark eyes set in her delicate, porcelain face. I knew it was Fay despite the red hair I’d seen in all the pictures, now dyed a violently, bright violet. 

She was the alt embodiment of femme fatale; devastatingly flawless, appearing completely comfortable squeezed into the lace-up corset that made her bosom spill in a manner that bordered obscene, with eyeliner so sharp she looked more like a tattooed doll than a real person — even the haphazardly swept swaths of luscious hair felt intentional and seductive. 

In other words, she was everything I wasn’t. And currently, the fierce panther was awaiting a response from the lowly mouse.

“Hello?” She added, annoyed, possibly questioning my sanity.

She’d already asked me to see Oli. I’d already seen her get ID’d by the guy at the back entrance of tonight’s venue and watched him point her in my direction.

Which made sense, as I’m the assistant. And to her, I am nothing more than that; a complete nobody, staring gormlessly at her, as I tried to not imagine her picture-perfect mouth on the man I was kissing in bed this morning.

It had been harder than expected to leave the magical hotel behind, only to return to the merciless tornado that is this tour. Made infinitely harder by how painfully gentle Oli had been when he pulled me back into the sheets as I was getting up in a rush; while we didn’t have much time — having set the alarm for last minute — the real reason I’d wanted to make such a rapid exit was because I didn’t want to prolong what felt like an unspoken goodbye. But his longing eyes and tousled hair made it impossible to resist his tender demands.

With the birds chirping, the sun spilling through the blinds, and his warm and sleepy touch on my cheek, it had seemed more like a lucid dream when his lips connected with mine. His hands fell away from my face to pull me closer, but it wasn’t until fingers caressed over my hip and cupped my ass, joined with a low, positively filthy, moan that I decided to pull away.

Heavy-lidded eyes met mine as I broke the heavenly kiss.

“Oli…” I sighed, but he quickly spoke up.

“I know, I know; we have to get going — but can you do me a favour?”

I immediately felt reserved, never knowing what to expect from him, “Depends, what is it?”

“Come see me before the show tonight, in my dressing room.”

The slow, smouldering touches, caressing their way over my body, made it hard to process what he was asking of me — what his request had actually meant.

“Aren’t you meeting up with Fay before the show?” I’d finally asked through the fog of heat that he’d so effortlessly surrounded us with.

He shook his head, “We agreed on after.”

When I took a second to respond, contemplating — wondering if more quality time together before he talked to her would only drag out the feeling of impending doom that seemed so hard to shake — he spoke, merely a whisper against my lips.

“Please.”

And I’d quickly agreed, determined to see it as a continuation of last night, rather than another goodbye.

Yet, here Fay was, about an hour before tonight’s show, wanting to see Oli right as I was heading to see him myself, having ran around like a headless chicken to make sure all my tasks were done early enough to disappear from the world, and escape to a place where only Oli and I exist for another stolen moment.

Before Fay sweeps back into Oli’s life, making him forget all about me.

I snapped myself back to reality, to Fay’s dark eyes staring back at mine, intent on not entertaining my paranoia any further — to not let the already weak flame of my confidence be snuffed out after realising that she was, in fact, more stunning in person.

“M-my apologies, of course, this way.” I’d responded, timid, feeling unusually meek in the presence of Miss Intimidation herself, before turning on my heel to lead her down the labyrinth of poorly lit pathways of the unusual venue they’d booked for tonight’s show. 

The loud and distinct click of her heals behind me did nothing but further add to her undeniably overawing presence. 

And I couldn’t believe I was leading her straight to Oli.

My heart sank with each step, each turn, each time we’d pass someone, and they’d do a double take, clearly enthralled by her, drawn to her.

I knew that Oli was one of the most magnetic people I’d ever met. I could never stop looking at him, appreciate him for all that he is. But from the way everyone — including myself — had reacted to seeing Fay, it was possible she had him beat.

And now, I was about to bring the two magnets back together.

I felt numb as I let my fist connect with the door leading to Oli’s dressing room.

Number still as the door flew open, excited eyes meeting mine.

“Hey, Alice—” But the words died on his lips, the excitement replaced with the same awestruck expression I’d seen on everyone who laid eyes upon the lioness behind me.

“Hi.” Her velvety smooth voice was filled with adoration.

No wonder, as he appeared just as flawless and striking as her; his locks tamed, eyes smoky, adorned in his usual hardware, the tattoos of his midriff showing due to his black, cropped jacket, paired with the matching tight-in-all-the-right-places trousers I’d seen him in many times before, as it had become a staple stage-fit by now.

Even the cut I’d left on his cheek yesterday somehow appeared to effortlessly be part of the ensemble.

Meanwhile, I hadn’t had time to do anything but shove my hair into a ponytail and slip into whatever tour merch was on the top of my luggage this morning. All of which only adding to the pressing sensation that I was the odd one out in my current company.

Moving to the side, I let her step past me, past Oli, into his dressing room.

He threw me a quick, apologetic, look before the door shut again, and I ignored the tearing sensation in my chest as I was left alone on this side of the door, as the two people who — from appearance and energy alone — truly seemed to belong together, had been reunited to possibly continue their lifelong union.

It was a sinking feeling, a flurry of nails in the coffin of my naive, immature dreams.

Then I heard their voices from the other side of the door, and for a moment I was locked in place, wondering if I should allow myself to lean in, press my ear against the cold door, and eavesdrop on what was being said. It was morbid curiosity, as I knew it would — more than likely — only serve to upset me further.

But my trance was broken from a noise around the corner, springing me into actions, as I essentially ran from the dressing room in question, heart in my throat, aimlessly getting lost in the maze I’d tried so hard to stay on top of for most of the day.

In my fast pace, which was only increasing, I turned the next corner all too recklessly, slamming headfirst into the chest of a man I’d been avoiding since this morning, toppling him over with a yelp as we both stumbled to the floor, with me landing on top of him, audibility knocking him breathless.

“Bloody hell,” I heard Lee mutter next to us as I scrambled to get off Mat, hoping no one would notice the panic on me.

“You alright, Alice?” Mat asked, his hands appearing on my shoulders, attempting to help me up, at the same time as Lee’s arm snaked around mine for further assistance, causing me to be back on my feet in record time, feeling dazed on top of my panic.

An anxious laugh escaped me as I watched Lee pull Mat up from the floor, and I felt the familiar heat fill my cheeks as I locked eyes with the man I hadn’t said a word to since I turned him down in the bar two nights ago, having gone to great lengths to steer clear of him all day, making the checkout process, van drive, and the time on the tour bus a bit of a nightmare.

But I hadn’t been ready to face Mat yet, not with the looming Fay-shaped cloud closing in.

“Yes! I-I’m fine. So sorry, I didn’t see you there. I r-really should be more careful.”

But Mat just frowned as I rambled off my apologies for my clumsy behaviour.

“Good, good,” Mat’s words were distant, concerned, clearly not convinced by my brave facade, “You got a minute?” He asked, pointing towards one of the nearby rooms.

I swallowed, trying to hold back tears I hadn’t realised was on the verge of spilling over.

My eyes darted to Lee only to find the same concern on him as I saw on Mat.

My world shrunk at the same pace as my options; not realising how imminent my breakdown was, I had to choose between crying out here — in front of the crowd of people I heard coming behind me — or take Mat up on his offer, hide in whatever room he’d pointed at, and at least have my meltdown with someone I was comfortable with. 

And who seemed to understand that I was breaking before even I was.

So, I nodded, knowing I couldn’t say another word without the floodgates bursting, as they so easily did lately.  

“See you in a bit, Lee!” Mat exclaimed, then hurried us into what I could only assume was his dressing room, considering his scattered belongings all over the small space, with just one lone chair for seating next to a dressing table in the windowless room.

The tears were streaming down my face as soon as the door shut, before he’d even turned on the main light.

“Fuck,” He muttered as he glanced at me, and began rummaging through a plastic bag on the corner of the table, “C’mere love, have a seat, will you?”

Mindlessly, I took the only seat in the room, now shaking with sobs, as he handed me a tissue box he’d materialised, before taking a deep breath and crossing his arms, appearing more serious than I’d ever seen him.

“What did he do?” His voice was cold, demanding — a stark contrast from the warm and inviting man I had come to know. But I could tell his tone came from a place of protection, clearly under the impression that Oli had upset me, hurt me, in some regard.

I shook my head, attempting to dry my face at a faster pace than the tears I was producing, “He-he didn’t.” My words came strangled, horse, and high pitched.

But it was enough to disarm the protective exterior, as he immediately uncrossed his arms, and used them to lean against the table as he studied me, clearly attempting to come to his own conclusions of what had happened, and why I was in such distress.

“Alright, good.” He finally settled on, “You can stay in here as long as you like, and I can let Liam know you’re here if you want.”

I nodded through my tears, appreciating that he’d helped me escape, so I could fall apart in private, “Thank you.”

He put a comforting hand on my shoulder, “No worries,” he added before pushing off the table, “I need to go talk to Oli before the show, you want me to keep this between us?”

The steely frown returned to his features as he saw my eyes widen, and I contemplated whether I should tell him Fay is here or not, considering I didn’t know if he even knew she was coming.

And it’s not like their past had been a ray of sunshine either.

“Don’t.” I’d blurted out, not having a plan besides stopping him, and drawing a complete blank on potential lies for why he shouldn’t go.

“Why?” He asked, confused for a moment before his frown deepened to something more akin to anger, “Is she here already?”

Okay, he knows.

I nodded.

He looked towards the sky, frustration emanating off him in waves, before returning to his previous position by the table, “Of course she is. We all agreed on after the show, so I could make myself scarce, but I guess the only wishes Fay respects are her own.” He huffed out an angry breath, “Did she say something to you, is that why you’re upset?”

I shook my head and grabbed for another tissue, “No, I-I don’t think she knows I’m anyone.”

Mat once again deflated, “You don’t need to worry about her, if that’s what this is about. Oli hates her.”

I sighed through the tears that were finally starting to slow, “They just seem so perfect together.”

“That’s the problem I always had with them too, they just fit, don’t there? Like they were fucking made for each other — but you know what I realised?” More warmth returned to his eyes as the clear frustration over Fay melted away further, “They share some obvious similarities; their feelings are always running high, and they’re mostly busy either running towards something, or away from something, which can be a bit chaotic, but it’s still manageable — at least individually. Together, however…” He shook his head, “They’re not electric, it’s not chemistry they share, it’s more like a bomb just destroying everything around them. And Oli knows that.” He leaned forward slightly, to further emphasise his point, “Oli would never go back to that.”

Yet, I could see an undeniable crumb of uncertainty behind his eyes, almost as if Mat was trying to reassure himself at the same time as myself.

“But more importantly; there’s you now.”

I blushed, feeling awkward by his implication of what I mean to Oli, considering mine and Mats very recent history.

He pulled out his luggage from under the table and took a seat on it, facing me, and I couldn’t tell whether it was because he’d decided to get comfortable — readying himself for a long talk — or if he wanted to get on eye-level with me, due to whatever was about to leave his mouth, “Look, I understand that I might be overstepping here, and if I am, please, just tell me to sod off.” He said with a smile, eliciting a smile from myself, as the notion of telling Mat to sod off felt ridiculous, “I’m aware that Oli’s already told you the extent of his feelings for you,” My blush deepened, but he pressed on, “And while it would’ve been nice to know before I made a move on you, I also know it’s never that simple.”

“I’m so sorry Mat; it’s my fault you didn’t know about—”

“None of that.” He cut me off, assertively, “Like I said; I know it’s been a bit complicated — for a number of reasons.” He took a deep breath, causing my nerves to build, “And, to add to the complications; I knew straight away that Oli had a thing for you.”

“Then why did you—” I started, confused, but I was once again interrupted.

“I had no clue how serious it was. That, plus, well… I immediately had a thing for you too.” My cheeks were on fire at this point, which was absurd considering I’d seen him covered in his own cum, making it feel particularly irrational to blush over the notion that he’s been ‘into me’ for the better part of a month, “In all honesty, Alice, yes, I was very interested in you, but it also felt like a natural step in dealing mine and Oli’s friendship after everything with Fay, to attempt to get comfortable, and return to a sense of almost normalcy where we’re both fawning over the same bird.” I could see the shame build on Mats features with each word, each sentence, “But it got out of hand so quickly, triggering both of us. And to make matters worse, I now feel the need to apologise to you, for putting you in that situation. It was selfish to think that—”

It was in that moment I understood that we both had been exploring each other with somewhat ulterior motives, which unexpectedly caused at least some of the weight on my shoulders to ease.

It also meant that it was my turn to interrupt him, “How about we both agree to put it behind us?”

A soft smile appeared on his lips, matching my own, his shoulders dropping in the process — whatever tension had been building there during his confession, finally releasing, “I’d very much like that.”

After a short beat of seemingly comfortable silence, he cleared his throat, “You can still tell me to sod off by the way, but I had more to say about Oli.”

I sat up straighter in my chair, bracing myself, “No, please, go on.” I said, knowing I needed all the advice I could get.

And what better source than his best friend.

“He told me he loves you.”

I involuntarily shifted in my seat, barely able to think about the word in that context, let alone hear it.

“When Oli loves someone, all he sees is that one person. Everyone else sort of just fades away, and he becomes really loyal — sometimes to a fault. So, I’m assuming you’re the one who put the brakes on?” 

“In some ways, yes. In others, he’d been attempting to slow us down, and I’ve been pushing for us to continue.” He studied me carefully as I spoke my vague truths, “I have felt very safe with him, placed trust in him in ways I…” I trailed off, not wanting to overshare on the delicate subject, “In hindsight I’m worried I’ve just tricked myself, cause it’s all happened quite fast.” 

The scent of his lavender shampoo had been hitting my nostrils all day, as it still lingered on me from last night’s shower.

And every time I caught a whiff of it, I’d feel like a fool all over again.

What fucking idiot doesn’t recognise a basic smell like lavender?

Not just for failing to pinpoint the now obvious scent, but for having its calming effect on me potentially cloud my judgement.

I could see the gears turning in Mats head, “The other night, in the bar, you told me you’d caught feelings for him. Was that true?”

I nodded.

“Does he know?”

“He knows I like him.”

There was a short pause after my accidental implication, where I’d inadvertently admitted that I do in fact have deeper feelings than just like.

“You scared to tell him it’s more than that?”

Feeling somewhat ashamed of my inabilities to speak my mind, I looked down for a moment, “Very.”

“I don’t know all the details, but if you let fear rule you…” He shook his head, “It rarely ends well.”

Since fear had been the foundation of most of my decision-making in life, I barely had a grasp on what the alternative looked like.

“Part of it is how fast it’s all happened.” I said, wanting to justify my alarm about the situation, “How am I supposed to know that these feelings are real? And not just my own, but his too?”

“You can’t. Only time will tell; that’s where the trust comes in. It’s all a leap of faith really, innit? You have to go into these things with the understanding that there’s a risk it won’t work out. But the only way to guarantee it won’t work, is if you never even try, never take that leap.”

Leap of faith.

How ironic; he was using the same words to convince me to trust Oli, as I’d used to convince Oli to trust me just the other night.

“True, but you also guarantee less pain with the latter.”

I watched Mat weigh my words, “It depends; living with the knowledge that you could’ve been happy for the rest of your life, but you chose to not even try, sounds pretty painful to me — and don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying that being with Oli, or anyone for that matter, is the key to happiness, but sometimes the need to protect ourselves from pain just backfires, putting us in a horrible limbo where we’re just stuck, miserable and scared, as opportunities pass us by one by one.”

A shiver ran up my spine as he was describing the zombie-like state I’d been stuck in my whole adult life with eerie accuracy.

“Do you think what Oli feels for you is real?” Mat asked when I didn’t respond to his insightful opinions.

I sighed, contemplating his question and all its intricacies, “It’s hard to tell, it’s just been a couple of weeks really — sure, we’ve spent a lot of hours togethers, and—”

“Slow down, try to not overthink it. If you just ask your gut, what’s it telling you?”

In the back of my mind I was running through Oli’s every action, in-action, and jealous outburst. I was analysing the way he’d reacted to all my fears, doubts about not being good enough, and the numerous breakdowns in his presence. I was tearing apart his obsession with me, which undoubtedly made it hard for him to see things for what they really are, picking a part his various tests, while also appreciating how hard he’s working to overcome his own demons, in order to dance with mine.

But none of it seemed to matter when I asked my instincts, as they had already come to their own unwavering conclusion, without the involvement of my thoughts. Feeling as certain as I had when I knew my ex was cheating, and as resolute the moment Oli wanted to know if I trusted him some time ago in that bog-standard hotel room.

“Yes, I think his feelings are real,” Which is what my gut had told me, yet my brain had something to add, “But I can’t help but wonder if he only likes me because he doesn’t know me well enough.”

“So, you think it’s just a crush?”

“Maybe.”

“Say that’s true, that’s still how something more permanent develops.”

“Or dies once the honeymoon phase is over.”

Mat laughed at my persistent pessimism, “And now we’re circling back around to it being a leap of faith.”

While I knew Mat was making a lot of good points, I couldn’t help but wonder if I had it in me; if I was truly brave enough to make something work between me and Oli, or if I was doomed to cause us both irreparable damage if I foolishly, recklessly, dragged him along, instead of simply accepting that I am not meant for someone like him.

Mat checked the time on his phone, “I’m really sorry, love, I’m running out of time I’m afraid. But please, stay here, until you feel better, yeah?”

“Thank you, Mat.”

He smiled at me and stood up, but I placed a hand on his arm, causing him to stop.

“No, really. You saved me out there, and this talk have been… Just, thank you.”

He shook his head, “It’s nothing. If you two work out, maybe one day you’ll be helping me not panic about someone too.”

“I’ll do my best.”

He sighed deeply, “Alright, wish me luck dodging Fay for the rest of the night.”

“Good luck.” I told him, knowing I also needed all the luck I could get.

Once I was alone, I took a long, hard, look at the woman staring back at me in the mirror, taking in the puffy eyes, messy hair, and creased shirt.

“Good luck…” I whispered to my reflection, before standing up and leaving the cramped space, hoping I could find the strength to stop the internal war, endlessly raging on within me, and maybe face my fears before it was too late.

... Subscribe to the story on Ao3 for future updates

[dammit-tazmuir]

👀 All right, this is interesting! And yeah I was also going to mention the "ever-present" tablet. We don't know what he's constantly doing on it, and it's certainly possible (and fun to imagine) he's got games or other comfort/distraction things on there, but I think it's extremely likely that at least a significant chunk of it would be trying to keep tabs on the whole empire. Checking and re-checking reports, contracts, news, etc.

I wanna add regarding Dios Apate Major:

This probably isn't even just his friends, but his partners, and implied to have been since before the Resurrection. It took his PARTNERS over 500 years to seduce him.

And even then it took both of them. For Dios Apate Minor, Augustine calls Mercy the lynchpin. Even for that, either of them alone couldn't have done it. The ONLY thing John wants badly enough to let his guard down and that's rare enough to tempt him is to be with both of them. To a point that when he learns about Major, he asks them if they ever even really hated each other. It sounds like he was fully ready to jump to the conclusion that they somehow put on an elaborate show for 10,000+ years purely to be able to trick him whenever they wanted.

And when they DID finally seduce him, he still made a point to not actually let himself finish. ("How would you ever—" "Mercymorn." "But I didn't even—" "Mercymorn.") The ONLY reason they were able to get anything is because she's insane (and the extra distraction probably helped). He was STILL being cautious and paranoid.

Regarding the need to be something he can touch, might I offer some tangential speculation:

Lyctors have a nearly endless supply of thanergy, but their thalergy is limited in a similar way to normal necromancers. The same is not true of John. He's a bottomless well of both thanergy AND thalergy. He can blink and have everyone around him blinded as he brings any given person from only technically barely alive to peak health, and it's easy. And yes, the scale of his power is because it's Alecto's, but...

For a normal lyctor, it's the dead cavalier that generates that thanergy. Palamedes calls them "half-dead cannibals" and emphasizes the mutual death of the Grand Lysis. John is different than both, with a two-way exchange, so there's little telling yet if Paul will have very different power. But if two regular people managed an exchange like his and Alecto's...

Well, they probably wouldn't become gods, but can we really be absolutely certain? Can John, having no other data to go on? Even if inferior versions, how close would they get? Would they also have power over both death and life, and if they did, would they really need him? Plus, he knows how he is toward Alecto. If they paired in similar ways, where their power and life both so heavily depend on each other, they would always be each other's single highest priority.

Not that I think he calculated all that, exactly. Cristabel and Alfred effectively forced Mercy and Augustine the same way Gideon did to Harrow. John probably saw their research and didn't correct them, but no amount of theory could have let him know for sure what would happen until it had ever been done. That was a tragedy. But his response...

To let them think they got it right. To avoid having to tell them he could have offered better guidance but didn't, and now it's too late, because even he can't restore the souls they ate. That and, well, according to Teacher it SOUNDS LIKE when the first Lyctors were made it was either because the RBs had first found them (this being what prompted the cavs) OR the very act of consuming a soul brought a reckoning down on them (possibly from Alecto herself!). But either way, to play dumb and then encourage the others to do the same... I could definitely see both paralyzing fear they'd leave him immediately if they knew and weighing the options to decide this new half-dead downgrade from himself is the perfect blend of immortal and reliant... 🫠

But yeah!

For the most part I agree with all the observations, especially with seeing himself in Harrow. And it makes me curious about potential comorbities.

I need to disclaim before I say this that if anyone takes it as an insult or inherently horrible thing I will feed them their own teeth, but with that said, I'm genuinely curious how OCD and sociopathy could overlap. ASPD would be in line with his easy charisma, his inappropriate humor, his apathy, and the rare raw emotion we see being anger. Depression isn't an uncommon comorbidity with that either, especially when it's developed through trauma rather than in-born. (I will also fistfight anyone who treats psychopathy as Makes You Evil Disease. This is not me giving him "the lighter version". Neither is better or worse, just different, and neither deserves the stigma it gets.) I feel like a very complicated relationship with remorse is also likely. He deflects blame so much, and OCD very often involves deep shame, but I can also see him like... less "feeling bad about" things and more frustrated they didn't go how he wanted, sometimes outwardly, sometimes via self-loathing. Things that would make most people feel pity seem to be neutral/curious, funny, or enraging to him. I could probably find more. But yeah. Maybe something like that could account for a lot of the differences from a more standard case of OCD?

On a side note—

Hey man was anyone going to tell me that when the poem says "kill the light" it's John talking about killing himself and Dominus and its whole solar system with him once he feels like his work is done or was I just supposed to figure that out here myself??? Fuck??? Hey does anyone else frequently think about Aiglamene in GtN Act One saying things were changing and "I used to think we were waiting for something, and now I think we're just waiting to die," and wonder if she meant a lot more than the Ninth? Because I sure fucking do.

John 00:00 (Or John has the Worst OCD Ever Known to men and yes I Apologize him for that)

I've just thought a lot about John, and our fandom interpretations, and... I just realized we get to see almost nothing of his emotions.

(Before you continue reading: this is probably gonna be a hell of a long post. But I really ask you to read it. I think it's absolutely impossible to understand John without the following knowledge. Please.)

The thing we see most of his emotions is his anger. Anger is, however, mostly a symptom of being hurt. (We are able to recept pain, therefore we avoid it.) From my experience, there are two types of people:

Those who direct the reaction to being hurt on themselves (being sad, self accusation)

Those who direct the reaction to being hurt on others (being angry with them)

Jod is clearly... well, both, in a way. But he clearly has a tendency to direct it towards others. I mean, what does he plan to do with his enemies?

There can be no forgiveness for them. He will haunt them until they're completely diminished. (Although it is interesting that he thinks that what he's done is unforgivable, and that he sacrifies his friends as some kind of self-punishment. Maybe we should keep that in mind.)

Side note: he also regains a certain amount of control over his enemies by that.

Jod's Primal Fear

But what have they done to him?

He says it himself: they have left him. John is terribly afraid of being left. That's why he needs to punish those who walked away. Because they've hurt him. And that's why he made half of his friends use the other half of his friends as their batteries:

God must be able to touch all of his creation. John must have a certain amount of control over his friends, so that they can't run away. Because he's terrible afraid that they could leave him. (Most likely because of the early death of his parents.)

But hands down, that's obviously not the only reason why he did that. Many people have a fear of loss without "killing" half of their friends. And at this point I'd like to introduce something many people don't really get until they themselves have it: OCD.

What is OCD?

Yeah, what is OCD? I'd say that's something Augustine can explain pretty well...

John was always so damned careful... No vulnerabilities, no lapses in all that time... It took 500 YEARS to trick him to even release genetic material in front of his friends... You know what that means?

John lives in constant fear. He permanently checks all opportunities how things could go "wrong" and tries to prevent them. And exactly that's what the core of OCD is: People with OCD live (more or less, it gets worse) in constant fear. Most people will always focus on rituals but nooooo, they are only ways to prevent (mostly objectively unrealistic, but that's in a way not so important, because the fear is real, and those who are affected will believe them in a certain way) things from happening. The main symptom of OCD is an overactive amygdala. ("The" part of your brain that processes and saves emotions, especially fear.)

John doesn't have (visible, maybe he has some in his mind - OCD thoughts - we don't know) rituals. But he doesn't have to. What I described earlier is the important part. One other important part (and defining criterium for psychic diseases) is... suffering.

And oh boy, does he suffer! THROWBACK to the part where he said he would let the RB's kill his friends to pay for his guilt? Oh boy, does he feel guilty! Oh boy, does he punish himself!

But let's talk about another fascinating aspect of OCD... John is a child of Generation Z, right? Thing is, even this generation doesn't really have an idea of OCD. The general idea is just... ah yes. rituals. washing hands. Like, it can be like that, but it doesn't have to. (There is not even enough relevant research. For example, there is no research if OCD can cause PTSD. OCD runs on the amygdala. PTSD = overwhelmed amygdala. The connection is not that hard.) You know what that means?

If John had OCD, he would probably not know it. (And his statements support that.)

And here another important thing about OCD: Untreated OCD continuinly gets worse. John is over 10.000 years old. Can you even imagine how BAD it must be AHAHAHA? No, really, I want to be serious with you for a moment: he must be so miserable, you can't even imagine. He is probably reduced to a bunch of fear and (self) hate.

(And he is - quite literally. The only thing that's keeping him alive is his hate against BoE. His biggest dream is to die and get to lie in the Tomb next to Alecto. That's why there's even a way in.)

John's Plans

One other thing that makes me think about John possibly having OCD are the *plans* he has. Many of them doesn't really to make sense to me (at least in a rational way that regards all details.) I mean, let's take a look at his plan for keeping his friends:

His plan for keeping his friends is letting the one half of them kill the other.

I am honest with you, I don't think that's a really good plan. You maybe *technically* stay in touch with your friends, but you doesn't really have use of it if, and half of them is dead. And all those things that make a friendship sweet and worth it (the voluntary love, your friends catching you if you can't do it yourself, the fact that you can talk with them about everything that concerns you) are missing. You don't have any purpose of those friends, they just *exist* and half of them is not really alive. I can personally only explain this to me with an aspect of OCD that I'd like to call: OCD tunnel vision.

If you have OCD and a certain fear gets to you (for example losing your friends) your vision will narrow on calming down this fear, and ignoring everything else around it. (People will actually leave their spouses because they fear they could cheat on them for no reason.) At the end you often will have done more damage than you would have done otherwise. (For example, half of your friends could be dead and the other half could hate you.) But! You have calmed down the fear. For a short time.

Doesn't fit John's "I'm afraid my friends could leave me, so I kill half of them, and the other half has to mourn to forever and will hate me" perfectly in that sheme? I think so.

PS: that may be not that controversial (and not neccessary for the rest of the argumentation), but... I'm not even so sure if his friends WOULD have left him if they had found out the truth. I mean, if the horrors of love are strong enough to do what JOHN did, they are surely strong enough to love a person who's done terrible things. And at the end, they don't try to kill him because of the terrible things he's done, but because he made them kill their cavaliers. John thinks what he's done is unforgivable, but actually we don't know. He somehow forgets that they love him as well. We don't really know if they ever could have forgiven him, because he never gave them the chance to do so.

John's Rituals

I said before that it's not possible to know if John has any rituals. But honestly, over making this post I realized, that he has indeed some very obvious rituals. But what is an OCD ritual?

As already said, OCD confronts you with some fear (what's btw hitting hard because OCD sometimes seems to know you better than you know yourself). To get rid of that fear you'll perform a certain action. (You'll mostly perform it very often since the fear will mostly come back. That's the ritual part about it.) That's why it's called obsessive-compulsive disorder: You have an obsession (the fear) and compulse (the action you do to get rid of that fear).

(Image source: M.Bitton – Wikimedia Commons user: M.Bitton)

But OCD actions doesn't have to be real actions in the real world. It can only just happen in your mind. That's called OCD thoughts. And it's what John has in my opinion.

Let's come back to the beginning. What is it, that Augustine says about him here?

What he says is that John:

Constantly checks his environment for signs of betrayal

Always takes care not to be vulnerable

Carefully (and constantly) concerns himself about not doing any lapses.

All those things can already count as rituals, since they intend to calm down a certain fear (fear of loss) (and he does them repeatedly.) They are the compulsion for an obsession and they are what John is (obviously) thinking about all day. Since 10.000 years.

I want to point out at this point that he thinks of this fear as a heavy burden. (What supports the suffering point.) When he talks to Harrow about what her parents have done he offers to free her from living in fear and the consequences of that:

(He breaks his promise. The point still stands :D)

Jod

But hands down, fear of loss, a need for control and heavy OCD don't make a commitant of war crimes. So what is it, that makes John do all those terrible things? He says it himself:

He can do it. He is a God.

And honestly, I don't think any of us would be better at his position. We all have our flaws. "It's not up to people to play God." The truth is, that being God would be completly overwhelming even for a perfectly healthy, stable person.

It surely, definitely is for someone who is not healthy, not stable and has OCD. I have never in my life seen so many people independently of each other describe a disease as "hell on earth." And to be honest, with the knowledge that he is most likely no evil mastermind with the plans for everything, but a very sick man I can't hate him anymore. (That's maybe because he's not real, but book character, but still :D) He is not the God who stands above things, he is suffering himself terribly. His final dream is to die.

That's btw one of the reason he "likes" Harrow so much: Harrow is canonically schizophrenic and schizophrenia is literally just autism and OCD combined. He sees himself in her. (Although I would say she's nothing like him.)

I have OCD for one quarter of my life now - I know how I evil it can be - and honestly, I don't know what I would have done in his position. I'm just genuinly glad I was allowed to be a very normal G when I started to lose contact to reality and experiencing psychological states of emergency. (Although I obviously hope I would be better.) I think it's much more easy to be "evil" if you have the power to be it. I've always said I'd be not a Jod apologist, but - well, I suppose I am.

PS: I ask, I beg you, if you find yourself in this post only the slightest bit and you have NO OCD diagnosis, please seek for help. It's really a thing that untreated OCD gets worse. It's maybe inconvinient to admit to someone that your brain tells you to kill your loved ones (or whatever else your OCD tells you), but it's definitely much more embarrassing to sit there two years later and have to admit that that's only the smallest of your problems.

Further Education (:P)

If you have no idea what OCD can look like I really recommend reading this reddit.

(And btw: I'm very sorry if you didn't feel like your OCD was portrayed right by this post. OCD can be as different as really any other disease. Here I just focused on the kind of OCD John has in my opinion.)

[dreadfutures]

Tevinter Nights: dramatic summaries

Back in March I decided to read a story from Tevinter Nights out loud to the DA FanFic server every Monday night. I figured with the number of stories, we'd hit August right as we finished - hopefully it'll be a big month for us fans!

I just love this anthology so much - there are many gems and entertaining bits among them, and they're criminally underrated. A lot of the DA side content is hit or miss for a lot of people, but seriously, some of these short stories could be published on their own without any knowledge of Thedas and still entertain!!

Here are the summaries I wrote ahead of each reading. :) All of the TN short stories are independent of each other, so take a look and perhaps you will find one you enjoy. I tried to keep them largely spoiler free :)

Also, check out @larkoneironaut 's Tevinter Nights art project! They're enjoyable in their own way :)

Three Trees to Midnight, by Patrick Weekes

After the Qunari take Ventus, prisoners are put to work chopping wood on the outskirts of Arlathan Forest. Myrion, a human mage, and Strife, a city elf who joined the Dalish, are shackled together at the ankle as a work pair. While their relationship starts antagonistic, they are quickly forced to work together to escape. This thrilling adventure is one of our first looks into the mysteries of Arlathan Forest, and the Antaam’s advance south—despite the rifts forming in the Qun’s ranks. Notably, Strife and his companion Irelin appear in another short story, Ruins of Reality, and Dragon Age: The Missing.

Down Among the Dead Men by Sylvia Feketekuty

We finally see Nevarra in this tale, and what better place to start than in the Grand Necropolis itself? Audric Felhausen, our POV character, is a city guard who is tasked with protecting a Mortalitasi mage during an investigation about some restless undead in the bowels of the Necropolis. We see how spirits and demons wander, and get stuck, in the bodies kept there -- and how possessing a body, even a long-dead one, can have significant effects on the spirit. On both a cultural and metaphysical level, this story gives us a TON of lore. And Audric, our hero, is equally curious and unsettled by what he learns. By the end you'll see why so many people are desperate for him to be a companion in DA4!

The Horror of Hormak by John Epler

Do you love Wardens? Do you miss the dark fantasy elements of Origins? Do you like the aesthetic of Dark Souls, with giant stone doors you push open with all your might to reveal a giant boss? That's the vibe that John Epler (DA4 Creative Director!) brings to this story. Wardens Ramesh and Lesha are tracking down a group of missing Wardens in Nevarra--a group, it turns out, that does not want to be found. For better or worse, Ramesh and Lesha plunge into the darkness and discover a horrifying truth with massive implications for the ancient history of Thedas... and the Evil Gods about to wake in DA4!

Callback by Lukas Kristjanson

Follow Sutherland and his crew of honorable adventurers back to where they began: Skyhold. Now defended and empty but for a handful of Chantry chosen caretakers, the fortress that once housed the Inquisition has gone dark, and Sutherland is tapped to investigate. We see Skyhold and by proxy the Inquisition itself from the perspective of one of the little guys, drawn to it because of ideals and encouraged to become their best selves. In doing so, we also see how the events of this world can shape Spirits in unexpected ways, with consequences for a world where the Veil is thin. Callback is full of callbacks and cameos from a surprising group from DAI, and an entertaining and perilous mini adventure in its own right. This is a love letter to Skyhold, to the Inquisition, and a meaningful counterpart to the memories of Skyhold kept in its frescos.

Luck in the Gardens by Sylvia Feketekuty

Hear a tale of glory and daring straight from a Lord of Fortune themself! A genderfluid, disguise-wearing, acrobat-turned-swashbuckler regales us with an adventure from the streets of Minrathous. Spy on secret meetings between Magisters, learn what the Venatori have been doing since Corypheus' defeat, and tremble in the face of things "past the Veil of our world," neither demon nor spirit. Who are the Lords of Fortune from Rivain? What lurks beneath Tevinter's streets? This may be the story that inspired many people's wishlist for the next Archon and the next Black Divine -- some beloved, familiar faces join our hero to face the terror in the gardens!

Content Warning: Body horror, Eldritch horror, mentions of Tevinter slavery

Hunger by Brianne Battye

Tevinter Nights returns to Warden business in Hunger -- or does it? Evka Ivo, a heroic warden, and her junior recruit Antoine, have to decide what counts as Warden business when there's not a Blight ongoing. As they make their way to Weisshaupt to answer their summons, they decide to make a small detour to help a village in need. Evka and Antoine are our beloved dwarf/elf romantics who feature in a DA Day short story - as well as in the DA4 lead-in comic, The Missing! Whether they may be companions or contacts to our protagonist remains to be seen, but surely they'll make an appearance after such tales of heroism and compassion!

Murder by Death Mages by Caitlin Sullivan Kelly

We return again to Nevarra from a different angle this time! An agent of the Inquisition, the multiplayer necromancer Sidony, is sent back to the home country she resents in pursuit of a killer. We learn not only about Sidony's past, but about the political landscape of Nevarra: do the Mortalitasi run the country as shadowy puppet masters? What do the common people, and the nobility, think of the death mages from the Necropolis? How are Mortalitasi trained? And what does necromancy look and feel like to the characters in Thedas? In this tale of alleyway chases and gossip-filled balls, we get another glimpse into a country we may very well visit in DA4!

The Streets of Minrathous by Brianne Battye

We return to Minrathous to learn what's become of the Venatori since Corypheus's defeat. Join Neve Gallus, special investigator (and important cameo in The Missing comic), as she navigates the alleyways of Tevinter's great city in search of a murderer. Through her eyes, we see how less-privileged mages are viewed, and how the law bends to the whims of the rich and magical in Tevinter. Neve is joined by Tevinter Templars in her investigation, and their final battle is certainly eye-opening for anyone interested in fighting mages... What lies beneath the Streets of Minrathous, if not the Cekorax? Well, you're about to find out.

The Wigmaker Job by Courtney Woods

Lucanis Dellamorte, Master Assassin (and rumored heir to the First Talon) of the Antivan Crows, prowls the secret passages and unsuspecting rooftops of Tevinter with his cousin Illario on a contract. The target? A member of the Venatori with a... peculiar hobby. From shady hotel rooms to a grand gala and fashion show, get a look at the best of the Crows doing what Crows do best. This is one of the best stories in Tevinter Nights by far.

Content Warnings: abuse of slaves, body horror, torture, gore, hair eating, lots of pretty gruesome (if cathartic) assasination, and possession

Genitivi Dies In The End by Lucas Kristjanson

The remnants of the Inquisition approach a new group of adventurers and task them with finding the secrets of Fen'Harel. The Antaam - or at least, part of it - give chase. And Genitivi Dies in the End.

Herold Had the Plan by Ryan Cormier

Our Lords of Fortune are on the run as a mission to steal an ancient amulet goes awry. They have the amulet, they have their daring escape (a Lord of Fortune knows no other kind, of course) -- but Herold had the plan for what to do with the damn thing, and Herold is gone. As Starkhaven guards give chase, only one Lord of Fortune will survive the night. But will he make it to the mysterious Squire who hired them in the first place? Join us for an adventure that will break your heart and keep you on the edge of your seat.

An Old Crow's Old Tricks by Arone Le Bray

Tevinter has sent their finest centuri to defend the shores of the Nocen Sea from potential Qunari invaders. They stake their claim on the area and set up camp, enjoying the esteem of being the proud defenders of Tevinter. But it's not the Qunari this group of soldiers should fear.

CW: blatant racism against dalish, off screen massacre of a Dalish clan, many gruesome cathartic assassinations described in some detail, hand trauma

Eight Little Talons by Courtney Woods

Antiva's crown is weak. Antiva has no army. And the Qun is at its doorstep. Antiva's Crows may be the country's only defense, but they must act fast. Caterina Dellamorte, the fearsome leader of the Crows, calls all Eight Talons to meet in secret and solitude to discuss and prepare for the threat at Antiva's borders. But perhaps they should begin by looking for threats at home. All Crows are assassins. But only one is a murderer.

Half Up Front by John Epler

A former altus who chose to be disowned into poverty to be with her elven lover takes the job of a lifetime: steal a precious, powerful, magical artifact from the Archon's Palace itself. It was never going to be easy, but the former Altus Vadis couldn't have predicted that a Minrathous heist would bring her all the way to a port in Rivain, loyal to the Qun. What at first glance seems like a classic cat burgling caper actually might tell us a lot about the forces at play in Thedas—how perhaps the people on the ground may or may not be following orders.

Dread Wolf Take You by Trick Weekes

[vaguely-concerned]

just for fun this time during 'sea of blood' I counted out all the venatori corpses I think we can be pretty sure were lucanis' handiwork before we show up (not including the ones he kills in his initial cutscene, and with an assumption that he's been at work mainly up and down in the areas we move through until we find him, not behind the locked door -- I think that's mostly the work of rampaging undead and other venatori-hoisted-by-their-own-petard suchlikes). can thus happily inform you lucanis has killed at least 32 venatori before rook and company get there. at least one of them he's impaled on their own weird crystal spike things the venatori mages cast as an AOE attack and that they're trying to keep him contained with when we find him. so he's clearly been keeping busy lol. that's my boy dispensing poetic justice and claiming some enrichment in his enclosure while he's at it good for him!