#we have like NEXT TO NOTHING in canon about them! even though 2 of the known big 3 kids are technically rogues!

[ahyperactivehero]

If you're still feeling DBD drabbles I'd love some post-canon Edwin and Crystal bonding (making fun of celebrities together? studying magic? comparing rich neglectful parents?)

I love a good Edwin and Crystal bonding moment! I hope that if we ever get season 2 we get to see more of them bickering and bonding. Because these two remind me of me and my sibling so strongly it almost hurts <3

(reminder that i am taking election night drabbles, although i can't promise they'll be posted tonight. i'm working on as many as i can, but it is getting late! i'll likely finish most of them tomorrow unfortunately)

Drabble 2 

Crystal and Edwin were at war. Or at least, that’s what Crystal would have labeled themselves as. According to Charles this was simply, ‘Edwin when he likes you,’ which Crystal wanted to be judgemental about, but she had her memories back and she could remember what a menace she’d been to people she liked.

“It is not hard, Crystal,” Edwin stressed, leaning heavily on to the desk in front of him. At some point in time he had abandoned his coat and jacket and rolled his sleeves up in what had to be the most laid back outfit Crystal had ever seen him in.

Yet there was nothing relaxed about Edwin. She’d never known him to be a particularly relaxed person, but there was a strange undercurrent of stress that was running through him that she was pretty sure wasn’t always there.

She sighed again for what must have been the millionth time and dropped her phone onto the couch next to her. It’s not like anyone she actually liked contacted her that way. In fact, she’d been arguing with her mom the last time someone had actually reached out to her, which had only resulted in Crystal storming out of the house and crashing in the agency’s office for a few days.

Which brought them to where they were now. Edwin tapped the book in front of him, looking for all the world like a young teaching assistant annoyed with his students. “If you would simply try, I know you cou-”

Violently, she shoved herself up off of the couch. Her feet banged against the floor, almost loud enough to rattle the windows, and for once she was glad Charles wasn’t here. She didn’t want him to see her like this.

“I have tried, Edwin! I’ve tried, okay! Have you ever tried shutting up?!” she asked before throwing herself back down onto the couch, her back turned towards the world as if that might somehow block out the ghost.

One of Crystal’s favorite and least favorite things about Edwin was that he never seemed to be dissuaded by her poor attitude. Sometimes, it even seemed to encourage him. “If you had actually tried, you would have cast the spell,” Edwin said. There was no heat to his voice, not even an ounce of actual anger to him– even though Crystal was sure he was pissed.

She squeezed her eyes shut. Maybe if she did that she’d be able to block out Edwin’s voice and the tears at the same time. “I did try,” she said, all of the fire in her voice having faded until it sounded broken and sad.

The sound of soft footsteps filled the room. Edwin’s familiar sounding boots shuffled against the floor until he reached the couch and seemed to hover there for a moment. 

“Ah,” he said. “I see.”

And Crystal wasn’t sure what he meant until she rolled over and saw him looking at her phone. 

“You are fighting with your parents,” he said.

“So what?” she asked and snatched her phone out of his hands.

“So, magic, especially one as instinctual and ingrained as yours, is highly influenced by your emotions.” Crystal glared up at him from the corner of her eye, which forced him to hold his hands up in defense. “Not because you are a woman, or whatever else it is you might be thinking I meant. Just because magic works that way.”

They needed a new couch. She poked at a hole that had long since been worn into the cushion and pulled out a bit of stuffing before sticking it back inside. “So I’m just going to keep fucking it up?” she asked.

Edwin sat down on the floor with his back to the couch. It was almost easier to talk this way, the two of them back to back. At least then she didn’t have to see his judgmental face, and he wouldn’t have to see her cry.

Not that she was crying, of course.

“No,” Edwin said quietly. “You will not keep ‘fucking it up.’ Although it will likely take time for you to get used to doing magic with such intentions, not just relying on your instincts to guide you.”

She pulled another thing of stuffing out before shoving it back in. “What’s so wrong with instincts?” Her ancestors had done fantastically for her so far.

Edwin shuffled, but she couldn’t figure out what he had done. “Nothing. Instincts are, as Charles would say, brills. They help keep you alive and safe and have been developed for exactly that reason.”  He shifted again, and this time Crystal could feel him fully leaning back against the couch, and the goosebumps that a ghost in too close proximity caused raised along her skin. 

“But what happens if you can’t trust your instincts? What if something has changed or been manipulated and you can’t trust them?” he asked.

And Crystal knew they were talking about something heavy, something that Edwin would definitely rather not talk about with her. But here he was, talking about it with her just the same.

“You mean Hell?” she asked. She rolled over just enough to get a peek at the top of Edwin’s head. Even though she could see very little of him, she could tell that he was nervous and that made her nervous.

“Not strictly speaking of Hell. There are plenty of supernatural beings with the ability to manipulate you or your senses for their own gains.” He looked over his shoulder, his eyes barely catching hers. “But yes, I was referring to demons like David.”

Her nails had already been bitten down to the quick, but she chewed on them anyways. Buzzes shook the couch as more texts from her mom chimed in, likely just another rant about what an awful child she was and how she was making everything so difficult for them.

“They’re just saying those things because they feel like they are failing as parents,” Edwin said. He’d turned back away, his eyes staring into the closet as if it offered something particularly interesting inside. “And while that might be true, that does not mean that you are a failure.”

She snorted. “Oh yeah,” she said. “What do you know about it?”

Edwin’s sharp green eyes turned towards her before quickly cutting away. “You are hardly the only one to grow up with rich, neglectful parents,” Edwin said. “Why do you think I was sent away to school in the first place?”

Any and all fight she had had in her died. Fighting with Edwin was supposed to be fun and sharp and quick– it didn’t seem fair to fight him when he was being so honest.

A forced smile spread across her face as she reached out and bumped him with her hand. “Shoulda known you had rich parents,” she said. “Look at how you talk.”

Edwin furrowed his brow. “Everyone at school spoke the way I do.”

“Exactly.”

They sat in silence for a while before Crystal sighed and held out her hand. “Gimme the book,” she said. Which Edwin gracefully did.

The original language was too hard for Crystal to read, but Edwin had written it down in English and then wrote it out phonetically below that. It wasn’t very long, nor was it anything special, just a minor illusion spell. It wouldn’t be enough to trick anyone, or save her from a demon, but it was definitely a start. 

“Charles will be happy you’re trying again,” Edwin said as she ran her hands over the pages. 

“Oh yeah?” she asked. Was that a B or a D? Edwin’s handwriting was so nice it was almost hard to read.

“He takes his job very seriously as the brawn,” Edwin said, as if she needed to be told that. “But it makes him happy to know that you or I could defend ourselves with spells if we had to.”

Once again she snorted. “But you never do,” she said. “And I don’t see how this little spell is supposed to help.”

Edwin nodded. “Never need to. But that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t be able to in return. Besides, this was one of the first spells I ever learned, and it's a great base to build on.”

And maybe that was a better way of looking at it. Not just defending herself or learning magic that some old, dead person other than Edwin had created when she could just use her own ancestral abilities. No, this was just another way to protect not only herself but the people she had come to love. 

Plus, wouldn’t it be nice to have a base spell that she could work on? If she could master this, maybe she could use some elements from it in her family's own magic.

Slowly, she read the words out as she tried to picture what she wanted to show Edwin. It wouldn’t be perfect, she was sure of that, but God if she wasn’t going to make this time work.

Purple petals and leaves filled the air as the image of the tree inside herself appeared in her palm. It was shaky, the picture almost glitchy and waving before reappearing slightly less detailed than before. It was as if someone had roughly sketched what was inside her without any special art talent.

But dammit, that was her tree, and she had cast it.

“It’s beautiful,” Edwin said. His eyes were wide, and he leaned in. Petals settled over him for a moment before passing through him on the way to the ground. She wondered if that was a ghost thing or a magic thing. 

“This is me,” she said. 

Edwin glanced at her before turning back to the tree. “Your ancestors’ tree,” he said, finally understanding. “I can only imagine how amazing it is in person.”

Pride she hadn’t expected to feel flooded her, filling her tree with even more light until it nearly blinded the two of them. Edwin folded her hands closed, shutting off the spell as they blinked spots from their vision.

She smiled sheepishly and he grinned back at her, one of the first true smiles she thought she had ever seen on his face. 

“We’ll work on that,” he said.

And they would.

[wings-of-fire-confessions]

Okay, imma be real? I think this fandom gets way too upset over characterization differences between books (this'll be a long one just let me explain).

I see a lot of posts in the WOF fandom about how certain characters got ruined in the next books or how their characterizations were completely screwed over. A lot of posts also are like, "Oh, Tui messed up X character in this book so badly!" Or "All their personality has changed in this book, what happened to my favorite character?" and so on like that.

This kind of thing, ESPECIALLY after rereading the series recently, then coming back to the fandom, pisses me off to NO END for a couple of reasons.

1. Tui wasn't "ruining" your favorite characters personality in the next book, because the focus of the next book wasn't the character in question. The spotlight is on another character entirely, and trying to micromanage THAT many personalities to their truest form is INCREDIBLY difficult.

2. Plotting out character personalities is a GRUELING process, coming from someone who does a lot of writing. ESPECIALLY if it's original characters, because then you can't just pull from fandom or canon, you gotta do that shit yourself. And over the course of the canon, their personality is gonna change!

This brings me to my last point and probably the biggest reason:

3. EVERY BOOK IS FROM A DIFFERENT PERSPECTIVE.

This has been a STAPLE of the Wings of Fire books from the VERY BEGINNING. With every new book, we as readers are jumping from one dragon's mental space to the next, learning about their traits and quirks and how they perceive the world around them, every single time we pick up the next book in the series. It's what helps give us those deeper insights into the characters that yall get so angry about when they aren't immediately represented in the next book, when that dragon is no longer our spotlight.

Also, when we are learning about the other dragons before we jump to their perspectives, the character that we are reading about is already making assumptions and assigning traits that they think correlate with the character in question! We are seeing the world through their eyes and thoughts, so when we move to another perspective, that dragon is doing the exact same thing, even though now we know more about one of the other characters!

And then the fandom gets hissy when the first character gets relegated into the background and assigned some base personality traits, even though that's exactly what happened before.

Personally, I think the ones who suffer from this the MOST are Clay in Arc 1 and Moon in Arc 2. Clay, according to fans, gets boiled down to nothing but his love for food, even though we see in his, Sunny's, and Peril's perspectives that he's more than that. His behaviors also directly correlate to why he gets that kind of background trait (although that's a whole other rant), and every time I see someone saying that Clay got screwed over by characterization, I take psychic damage.

And Moon. God, yall, Moon gets it THE WORST FROM YOU. I've seen SO MANY POSTS about how she got boiled down to nothing but a love triangle piece in the later arcs, which is only partly true, but we also see from ALL OF THOSE PERSPECTIVES (Qibli and Winter specifically) that the traits they're assigning her are both different aspects of how her character worked in the first book and what two lovestruck, moons-blinded dumbasses are seeing and choosing to view her as.

Her book even SHOWS how much of a NIGHTMARE it would be to have every character be deep and know their inner thoughts at all times. Moon herself gets mentally and physically overwhelmed near CONSTANTLY during the majority of her book, and I'm not even technically factoring in Darkstalkers' influence.

All of that to say, Wings of Fire fandom, is to stop losing your SHIT over how your characters might seem flat or not like they were in their books. All of these perspectives are different, and if you motherfuckers actually took some time to reread the books while actively LOOKING for those hints of your silly guys being the same silly guys, just from another dragon's POV, then maybe yall wouldn't be so pissed off about characterization in the books nearly HALF as often.

I don't even care how much discourse this is gonna spark I just felt the incredible urge to tell yall to use those skills you learned in English class and chill the FUCK OUT on this topic.

Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk. Now go use your eyes :>

.

[aroaceleovaldez]

You have no idea how surprised I was to see you in Alabaster tag. I guess I'm just used to see you with meta (which are always a delight to read btw)

What are your opinions about Nico/Al and Percy/Al

Do not let my meta fool you I am a rogue demigods fan first and person second. I love Alabaster. I do not interact enough with the rogue demigods/Titan Army side of the fandom for the amount of thoughts I have about them 😔

As for Alabaster ships - I have heard much about Nico/Alabaster and I think it's very fun and cute. In my Nico Ship Survey it by far swept for most popular Nico/Minor Character ship. I generally think Nico/Minor Character ships tend to be very fun and interesting, I love the minor characters, I love the rogues, and throwing Nico with another rogue and/or another chthonic demigod is always very [chef's kiss] for me.

As for Percy/Al, well. I did fully intentionally make my Alabaster design mirror my Percy design.

(My main reason for doing so was cause I thought it'd be funny for Al to hate Percy and then to learn that Percy also has a streak in his hair in the exact same spot and get SO pissed that Percy not only ruined his life but is also stealing his brand.)

But yeah I think it's very interesting! I love Percy getting to interact with demigods outside of the camps and I am always down for more rogue and/or Alabaster content. And again, nudge the chthonic demigods together, hell yes. No pun intended.

I just think Alabaster is neat. Let him do whatever he wants forever.

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Chapter 6 - I've Been Searching for a Fortified Defense

Series Masterlist

Author's Note: As we begin our first 5-digit word count chapter (I can’t be stopped, someone take away my keyboard) and I find a stride of about two chapters per week, I want to say that: A) I fully intend on finishing this story. I plotted out the whole thing before I started, have made a few adjustments given the pacing I’ve done so far, and with how it’s broken down right now we’ll reach the end in 2-3 months. B) Thank y’all from the bottom of my heart for reading! If you have theories or thoughts or feedback please don’t hesitate to share them! I love hearing what you think of the plot and the characters, and every interaction means the world to me. Whether you’re only reading or leaving comments as well, thank you so damn much. I’ll see you next chapter (it’s gonna be a doozy) <3

Chapter Title from Bells in Santa Fe by Halsey.

Word Count: 11.2k

Chapter Summary/Warnings: You throw a punch, and Phase One: Operation Quick and Bald goes. Not well, but it goes. Contains usual warnings.

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, canon divergence, enemies to friends to lovers, canon divergence, slow burn, fluff, angst

Read on A03!

Chapter 5 - Chapter 7

Taglist: @lordofthunderthr @kritara

Want to be tagged? Just ask!

Ben dodged the third punch in a row, grinning widely right up until the fourth one landed on his face.

“Ha!” She yelled, drawing back to shake her first out. “Take that, you weirdly fast man.”

Ben rolled his eyes, rubbing his face lightly. It hadn’t hurt—he’d barely even felt it—but She was being real fucking smug for someone who’d only just landed a hit after a damn week of attempting to do so.

“Yeah, sure, Sunshine. Keep it the fuck up, and at this rate it’ll only take you another couple thousand years to surpass Muhammad Ali.”

She raised her brows at Ben, pausing with a tilt of her head. “You were a fan of Muhammad Ali?”

He nodded, giving her a scrunched look of annoyance. “I’m a fucking American, and there ain’t nothing more red-blooded American than punching commies like that son of a bitch did.”

“What?”

“When he fought the Russian, and won. That’s fucking American.”

“Ben, you’re thinking of the plot of Rocky IV.”

“No, Muhammad Ali fought that Russian pussy and kicked his fucking ass.”

“No, Sylvester Stallone fought the Russian pussy and kicked his fucking ass. In a movie.” She laughed to herself. “I’m shocked you even saw Rocky IV, let alone were so impacted by it to let the plot override your knowledge of a real life person.”

“Shut up,” Ben grunted, moving his hands back to a defensive stance. She fucking always won these stupid arguments, and Ben couldn’t actually prove it, but he knew She was changing the fucking internet she loved so damn much to match her claims. “Go again.”

“Someone missed nap time.” She muttered under her breath, even though she knew Ben could fucking hear her, but put her fists up anyways. “Can this be the last one? I’m hungry.”

Instead of answering, Ben just launched himself at her, and She jumped to the side with a yelp.

“What the fuck, Ben!”

He turned and threw another punch, feeling pleased at the smooth way she ducked away and met it with a punch of her own. Her face had lost the pissy shock, laser-sharp concentration replacing it. Her eyes were narrowed, darting across Ben as he moved, her bobbing and weaving wasn’t entirely shit, and her heart was controlled with her breathing. She landed her second punch, this one on his shoulder, and Ben laughed, delivering one of his own.

“Christ, Sunshine, you’re fucking weak.” He laughed, examining Her carefully for any loss of control.

“I’ll kill you with my bare hands, Bitch.” She growled, lunging forward and grunting in frustration as Ben dodged with ease.

“That’s my line.” He taunted. “And you couldn’t even kill a man with an assault rifle if he was a fucking foot away from you.”

“Blow me.”

“I’ve been fucking trying- Fuck!” She landed her third punch, and it burned. Ben reached to touch where she’d hit and felt the skin mending across his jaw.

She was grinning in a wide, toothy, satisfied way. “Suck on that, cunt.”

“Bitch,” he muttered, looking down at his hand to see it raw and red from the contact with his face, with some of his fucking hair stuck to it.

“Did you burn off my fucking beard!” His head shot up to see a half-sheepish, half-amused look on her face, lips curled and eyes wide.

“Oops.”

He yelled her name, and she had the fucking nerve to giggle. “We said no fucking powers!”

“I forgot.” She said lamely, her face less and less apologetic by the second, giggling again as she offered some of the most insincere comfort Ben had ever heard. “It’s not even that noticeable! You look just as good as before!”

His anger faded, and he gave Her a cocky smirk, raising his brows. “You think I look good, Sunshine?”

“I’m being nice. Don’t ruin it.” She muttered, her face adorably flushed, and Ben didn’t miss the skip of her heart.

“Whatever keeps you up at night.”

“That’s not the phrase.”

He winked. “I know.”

She scoffed and turned away, but not before Ben could see the slight smile on her lips. “I’m going to shower, I’ll meet you in the living room in fifteen. If you’re not there, with food, I’m eating the TV.”

Ben frowned, calling after Her figure moving down the hall. “Has the TV been edible this whole fucking time and you didn’t fucking tell me?!”

Her laughter echoed back down the hall. "You're real fucking gullible, grampa!"

“You know I can’t fucking tell when you’re joking about that shit, you bitch!”

“Fourteen minutes, cunt!”

“How the fuck am I supposed to make food in fourteen minutes?!”

“You’re a big boy, you’ll figure it out!”

Grumbling a string of cusses Ben hoped She could fucking feel, Ben grabbed a cup of instant noodles and threw them in the microwave, wondering if She would notice if he spit in hers. After pulling them out, grabbing two spoons from the counter that he almost immediately bent, spilling one of the cups as he noticed the damaged utensils, spilling the other when he noticed the first spill, and having to start the whole damned fucking thing over, Ben made his way to drop on the couch next to where She sat, wet hair clinging to her pretty face.

“Heard a lot of swearing, Pretty Boy, everything ok?”

He grunted, shoving Her noodles against her chest and letting go, not giving a fuck if she had a grip on them. “Shut the fuck up.”

“Just asking a question,” he could hear her shit-eating grin. “Thought it was a free country. Thought a patriot like you would appreciate me exercising my first amendment right.”

“That protects you from the government, not me.” Ben parroted back the words She had yelled at him after he’d made the apparently fucking fatal mistake of saying “first amendment right” in her presence.

She chuckled, her voice teasing. “Didn’t know you were capable of retaining information about something other than yourself.”

“Well, your tits were looking great while you were bitching. It helped.” He grabbed the remote, raising it to the TV. “I made food. I’m picking what we watch.”

“If you pick Game of Thrones so you can watch the sex scenes again, I’m figuring out a way to kill myself and doing it on your bed.”

“Whatever gets you in my bed, Sunshine.” He winked. “And I’m invested in the fucking plot, it’s not just the sex scenes.”

“It’s mostly the sex scenes.” She said, not even flinching at his flirtation. “Just go watch porn. See how fast you can break the fleshlights. If you do all three in ten minutes, Butcher owes me twenty dollars.”

Ben scowled, not enjoying that She’d apparently been making fucking bets with Butcher about his masturbation. “I can last longer than ten fucking minutes, I’m not a fucking pussy.”

“Prove it.”

He grinned widely at Her as her face flushed adorably, her own phrasing catching up with her head. “I’d be honored, Sunshine.”

“You’re like a fucking rabbit in heat.” She muttered. “And if you do last longer than ten, Hughie gets the money, so keep that in mind when you’re jerking it to dragon boobs after I go to bed.”

“The dragons don’t have any fucking boobs, dumbass, the fucking hot lady queens do.” Ben said smugly, ignoring her eye roll. “And I would ‘jerk it’ in the privacy of my room, but someone won’t give me a fucking phone.”

“Yeah, the CIA. I’d actually back you up with Mallory, Pretty Boy. I think giving you a phone would be really entertaining.”

“I don’t need your fucking help.” He snapped, and she laughed.

“Can’t rely on just a handsome face to convince her that you somehow deserve the internet.”

“Handsome face?” He grinned at her, and only the slight stutter of her heart told Ben she heard him.

She made a mock face of thought. “Maybe if we suggested parental controls…”

“I’ll kill you, bitch.”

“I’ll make you the most useless and sad eunuch to ever grace this sorry planet, cunt.”

Ben glared at Her, and she reached over his arm to press play on the remote.

Most of the days since the failed Sister Sage mission had been like this. She and Ben got up, trained, ate, trained more, and then watched TV with dinner until She retreated to her room and Ben fought sleep for the rest of the night, alone. Neither of them mentioned how he’d saved her, or how She had started a habit of slapping Ben awake—he was pretty fucking certain that at this point she had figured out another way to break through the nightmares but was purposely choosing to fucking hit him instead—before she’d sit next to him for an hour or two after. Ben liked this unspoken arrangement, and liked even more how She had silently agreed to it. Just because he didn’t actively hate Her right now didn’t mean he was about become a sniveling pussy mess about feelings. Even if the lack of active hatred had morphed into something pulsing in his chest that he didn’t understand, and didn't fucking want to. Making Her instant noodles and not killing her when she lied to him for fun or called him “Pretty Boy” was as far as Ben would bend.

It had been mostly radio silence from the Boys, though Butcher and Cocksucker had visited two days after they’d dropped Her and Ben back at the safe house, as Cocksucker had managed to break his arm. There had been a long, incredibly boring and poorly told story as to how the injury had occurred, involving a supe, Nikola Tesla and something called a Cybertruck, but Ben had pretty much tuned out the entire fucking conversation once he realized they weren’t here for him at all. The only thing that had kept him from retreating to his room for the duration of the visit was the small falter in Her heart when she touched Cocksucker, her jaw clenched as Ben and Butcher watched Cocksucker’s arm heal into place in a fucking disgusting manner.

When She’d let go, she’d given Ben a weird fucking look with tight lips and sad eyes that he'd only seen before on Cocksucker. It had passed quickly, her face returning to apathetic and bored, her eyes regaining the sharp amusement they usually held, but fuck it had confused him. She and Butcher had started talking about missions and planning and other mind-numbing shit, Cocksucker shaking out his arm as if he didn’t trust that it was healed, and Ben had needed to piss and gone to do just that. Before he’d left, he’d caught Her a look of where the hell are you’d going, he’d grinned back with a wink of why, you want to join me?, and she’d rolled her eyes and returned her attention to Butcher. When he’d returned, Butcher and Cocksucker had left and She was glaring at him, arms across her chest.

“Are you an idiot, or just a dick?” She’d snapped.

He’d frowned at Her, trying to figure out what had made her all fucking bitchy. As far as Ben was concerned, he’d been fucking amazing, only calling Butcher a pussy twice and managing to refrain from talking to Cocksucker at all. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Butcher told me we’re moving on operation Quick and Bald soon. He told me you knew. Why didn’t you fucking tell me?!”

“Oh,” Ben had rolled his eyes. “I forgot.”

“You forgot?”

He’d shrugged. “Well, you fucking know now, so get over it. And what kind of fucking shit codename is Quick and Bald?”

“Fuck you, it’s an accurate and descriptive name.”

“How the fuck could that be ‘accurate and descriptive’?”

“Because two key factors of this phase of my plan are the quick and the bald.”

“Your plan?”

“Yeah, my fucking plan. That I fucking deserved to know the status of.” She’d scowled. “Butcher says it’s almost ready. He’ll get us in two days once it’s in place.”

That had been five days ago. Starlight and Cocksucker had dropped in after two days, full of apologies and updates that Ben didn’t give a fuck about, and when he’d asked Her for more information about the plan, she’d told him to “suck her dick and shove his questions up his ass until they reached his brain.”

So Ben still had no fucking clue what Quick and Bald was about.

Aside from Her lingering anger at him for apparently having the fucking nerve to ask questions about the jobs he had to do—an opinion he had made the mistake of voicing, leading the unwelcome lesson on the first amendment—She was being impossibly easy to talk to, and Ben was getting dangerously close to not only enjoying her company, but finding her comfortable. Part of him was hoping she’d say something very, very soon that would allow him to grip onto hatred, or at least indifference, for the rest of his time in this stupid fucking situation.

Instead, in a way that made Ben think God himself was out to fucking get him, he’d started to tell her things. Fucking voluntarily.

One of those nights where sleep had gripped his head and pulled him under, struggling and roaring, he’d woken up once more from only the force and sting of her hand across his face. She’d sat next to him again, and he’d asked her more questions about before, all of which she’d answered with a faraway, insufferably sad look in her eyes.

“How many siblings did you fucking have again?” He’d pressed once.

“Four,” She’d responded, a wistful smile on her face. “Two brothers, two sisters. All younger.”

“Your parents had four more kids after you? What, were you that fucking annoying they needed to try again four fucking times?”

“No, I was just so adorable they needed to try and recreate my perfection. Once they realized that was impossible, they gave up.” She’d smirked, and Ben hated that somehow he didn’t doubt her words. “Well,” she’d mused to herself. “That and they fell violently out of love with each other.”

“Violently?” He’d made a face, and she’d nodded solemnly.

“I shielded my siblings from a lot of flying plates.”

Ben found another thing to hate. Her parents, and how fucking sad she looked. “You miss them?”

“My parents?” She’d snorted. “I miss my dad. I hope my mom gets her head popped.”

He’d coughed to cover a laugh. “No, you fucking smartass. Your siblings.”

Her answer was quick and soft. “Every fucking day.”

Ben had grunted, watching the distance return to her face, and before he could stop himself, he was talking. “I didn’t have any siblings.”

Before he could curse himself out and try to distract Her with something else, she had been looking back at him with wide, focused eyes. “Do you wish you did?”

“I never thought about it,” he’d muttered. “My father was such a fucking dick I’m surprised he even got my mother to marry him, let alone fucking have one kid. I think he hated me enough to never fucking risk it again.”

“Risk it?” She’d kept her voice impossibly gentle as she’d asked, and it made his skin crawl all weird.

“I was the biggest fucking regret of his life. If he could go back and stop me from happening in the first place, make my mother flush me out, he wouldn’t have fucking hesitated.”

She’d paused, and a very fucking stupid part of Ben had thought she was going to let the conversation go. Of course, he should’ve fucking known by now that She damn well wouldn’t.

“What was your mom like?”

He hadn’t fucking expected that, and it had shocked him enough to answer. “Kind. Too kind for my father, he saw it as fucking weakness and told her all the fucking time. But she was so fucking kind.” He took a heavy breath. “She was full of love, and I have no fucking clue how. It was fucking stupid, all her love, even for my piece of shit father. He’d yell at her and threaten her and mock her, but she still fucking loved him. She fucking loved everything.”

Her voice was still gentle from beside him. “Like what?”

“Animals. Cats specifically. My father had all these fucking hunting dogs he loved more than anything, certainly more than me, and the only good thing he ever fucking did was trade one to get her a cat. It was massive, fluffy and gray, and it was a fucking asshole to everyone but her. It ate like a fucking elephant, shed like a whore in summer, but she loved it so fucking much.” At this point Ben had really wished he would shut the fuck up, but he couldn’t, and he was going to have to figure out a way to blame Her for that later. “She loved art. Painting. She tried to get me to love it too, even though I could barely draw a fucking worm. But I’d try, and she’d frame all my stupid, shitty drawings and hang them around the house until my father saw them and threw them in the trash. She loved music but couldn’t carry a tune if her life fucking depended on it. They’d go to the opera because my father would donate a ton for the publicity, and she’d come back all damn giddy. I’d wait up, just because she was fucking contagious when she was that happy. Even my father felt it, enough to just go straight to bed and not kick my ass for still being awake. She was fucking smart, too. Real fucking smart. My father would joke he wished she was a man, because then her brain would be useful. She would’ve fucking jumped for joy if she saw the world now. Met a fucking woman doctor.” He paused, looking back down at Her beside him. She hadn’t looked away from him, and there was none of the pity he’d expected to see on her face. It was just open, listening intently to his words with no malice or trickery behind her eyes.

“She sounds amazing.” She’d said softly, a small smile he didn’t understand on her face. “And your dad sounds like a fucking cunt.”

Ben had chuckled in surprise. “Fucking understatement of the damn year, Sunshine. That pussy would’ve tried to pry your degree from your fucking hands.”

“Let him try, I’d burn his fucking face off and laugh while I did it.”

“What were you even going to fucking do with a PhD in archeology?" He’d asked, and she’d huffed a small laugh.

“Anthropology, Pretty Boy. But nice guess.” She corrected. “And I’m honestly not sure. I’d quite literarily only just actually received the degree before everything… changed.” She’d sighed. “I had a few job offers, but mostly in academia and business. What I wanted was to work with nonprofits to help people.”

“Help people?” He’d given her a disbelieving stare. “With a prissy fucking degree?”

“Yeah, dickwad. Help people. I was a cultural anthropologist. I specialized in the evolution of cultures and ways to combat systemic cultural oppression.”

He’d stared at Her blankly. “You’re going to have to take down the fucking fancy talk by seven, Sunshine.”

“I studied how the government and culture is mean to people on purpose, and how to make them stop being mean.” She’d said flatly.

“Oh.” He’d rolled his eyes at the dirty look she was giving him. “Oh, fuck off. It wasn’t that painful to say.”

“Yes, it was.” She’d mumbled, narrowing her eyes at him. “You’re not going to argue with me?”

“What’s there to fucking argue about?”

“I just called your beloved country an ‘oppressive system’.” She’d watched him wearily, but her heart remained steady. “Doesn’t it mar your refined American nationalism?”

“Do you fucking want me to be mad?” Ben had asked, raising his brows at her. “I can definitely find it in me, that’s not a fucking issue. But usually when we fight about this shit, you get all bitchy and don’t talk to me for way too fucking long.”

“I mean, no, I don’t want you to get mad…” She’d frowned, examining him with yet another fucking confusing look. “Does it really bother you when I ignore you?”

“No.” He’d snapped quickly. “It’s just annoying, and I don’t like having to fucking deal with it.”

She’d hummed with an amused smile on her face, and the conversation had moved on to something else. Ben had shoved down the way it had been so easy to talk about his mother with her, until it was somewhere in his gut and he didn’t have to think about the way the feeling rolled around inside him.

And he refused to even acknowledge how when She would smile now, he’d have to fight himself to not do the same.

———-

It had been a week since the Sage incident, a week since Ben had saved your life—you'd locked everything about that particular action from what you thought of it to how it made you feel somewhere deep in your chest—and you were starting to lose your mind a little bit. When Annie and Hughie had stopped by with nervous words about delays in your meticulously prepared and incredibly well-detailed plan, you’d been willing to wait another day, maybe two, before executing operation Quick and Bald. Now it had been three days, burgeoning on four, and you were worryingly close to leaving the safe house just to yell at Butcher. Ben could stay here, or follow you and help you beat Butcher up for all you cared. Which was, admittedly, worrying within itself. Especially because the whole point of operation Quick and Bald was to take preventative measures against Ben’s needless brutality.

Over a month ago, right after you’d moved into the safe house and when you had been ready to throttle Ben’s neck every waking moment—an urge that hadn’t entirely waned, but was now undercut with a weirder, stronger urge to be near him without any murderous intent—you’d spent the hours quarantined in your room perfecting your plan to get Ryan Butcher the fuck out of dodge. When they’d come to pick you and Ben up for the whole Neuman test, you’d left it in the van for Butcher to find, and had been waiting since for him to set up the dominoes so you could knock them over.

At this point, you’d be happy with not even “dominos to knock over” and just “one singular domino to throw at someone." You had begun to develop a habit of staring down the hall from the living room, trying to will someone to appear with at least a fucking update. So far this strategy was not working, and had apparently started to garner attention.

Sitting on the couch, the TV white noise in the background and noodles in your hand cold and forgotten, you felt a foreign rush of oddly tight concern run through your body. You frowned, heard your name from next to you, and turned to find that Ben had been poking your arm.

“Are you fucking alive?” He grunted, watching you with a frown.

“Literally? Yes.” You answered with a tight smile. “You have noodles on your face.”

He reached up to feel for them, not looking away from you. “What the fuck do you mean literally? How can you be fucking metaphorically alive?”

“Mind-body problem, Pretty Boy. And it’s not metaphorically, it’s philosophically.” You lean back, grinning.

“You’re a real fucking pretentious bitch sometimes.” He grumbled, still trying to find the food stuck to his beard.

“If you made me a shirt that said that, I’d wear it.”

“I’m not going to fucking make you a shirt, Sunshine. You couldn’t make me learn to fucking sow with a gun to my head.”

“Because the gun wouldn’t affect you at all?” You pointed to your own chin, mirroring where the noodle was caught.

He sneered. “Because I’m not a pussy.” His hand found the stray piece of his dinner, and he pulled it from his jaw.

“Big words from the man who took two tries to make me instant ramen- hey!” A wet noodle hits you in the face.

“Ramen your ungrateful ass didn’t even fucking eat.” Ben gave a pointed look at the abandoned cup in your hands, the food inside having long lost any heat. “Don’t fucking test me, or I’ll actually spit in your food next time.”

“Drama queen,” you muttered, peeking back at the door. “Like you don’t already do that.”

“I fight the urge to be a fucking bitch, unlike certain women.”

You nod absentmindedly. “Butcher.”

Ben snorted behind you, and a smile you hoped he didn’t see crept onto your face.

“Yeah, sure Sunshine.” His attention returned to the TV, and you did your best to not stare down the hall, trying to ignore the hope that the door now shrouded in darkness would open.

A successful effort that made you jump out of your seat when it did just that with an aggressive bang.

Ben was faster than you, practically launching himself over the sofa and bolting down the hall, a dangerous look of alarm the last thing you saw on his face before he was gone from the room.

“Shit, no! It’s me!” You heard a high-pitched shout from the shadows of the entrance. “It’s Hughie!”

“What the fuck are you doing here?!” You heard Ben’s growl of a response.

Butcher’s voice drawled from the shadows. “Oi, take a deep fucking breath and put the bloody kid down.” 

“Someone fucking answer me first.”

“Put him down, Soldier Boy, before we knock your ancient ass the fuck out.” The impatient, clipped words of MM responded, almost drowned out by Frenchie's shout.

“Can someone turn on the fucking lights? It is as dark as Monsieur Butcher’s heart and asshole!” 

“I- I don’t feel good.” Hughie’s voice stuttered.

“Ben!” You flicked on the hallway sconces, illuminating a scene of Ben’s full body weight pressing Hughie to the wall, Butcher and MM trying with practically negative success to pry him off, and Kimiko gripping one of Frenchie’s arms as his other groped around for direction. You let out a very long, very loud sigh. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“It’s fucking late,” he snapped, not letting Hughie go. “They shouldn’t be here so fucking late.”

“This ain’t your real house, Mate.” Butcher grunted, still trying to move Ben. “We can be here whenever we bloody well please.”

Hughie wheezed out your name in a pleading tone. “Your plan is ready. We’re here to- fuck- we’re here to get you.”

That got you moving, crossing to the end of the hall in quick, frantic steps. “It’s ready? Are you sure?” Hughie gave a weak nod, and you rolled your eyes, shoving Ben shoulder. “Put him down, dumbass. He’s not a threat, and honestly, probably the worst one to have gone after. Just, like, strategically.”

Ben glared at you, but let go. He glanced at where MM and Butcher were still grabbing him, and gave them a venomous look that got them both to let go and take hasty steps back. He shot a glowering look of they could’ve fucking waited until the morning in your direction.

You wrinkled your nose at him. No. Shut the fuck up. You turned to Hughie, not even bothering to hide the desperation you felt in your imploring stare. “It’s all ready? All of it? A-Train agreed to help? We’re sure Ashley has the information? We’re sure neither one is going to tell Homelander, and we’re not about to walk into a fucking trap?”

“Yes, yes, yes, kind of, and yes.” Butcher counted off on his fingers as he answered. “But we’ve got to go right fucking now.”

“Kind of?” Anxious energy rushed through you—that still-strange feeling lighting under your skin—and you ignored the weird look Ben shot you as it did. “What do you mean, kind of? If you fucked this up, Butcher, I swear to God-"

“Calm the fuck down, Love.” Butcher snapped. “It’s going to be fine, we’ll explain on the way. But we need to go fucking now if you want this to work.”

You gave a sharp nod, starting to pull on your boot, glancing up with a pause when you heard Hughie say your name behind you.

“Do you, uh, do you want to get dressed first?” His voice was still slightly weak as he recovered from Ben’s force.

You glanced down at your body, and decided that the oversized shirt and cloth shorts would be fine. They were from the CIA spring fire-proof collection, and that was more than enough. “Nope. Let’s fucking move.”

You were halfway to the door when a crash sounded behind you, and you whirled around to see MM firmly blocking Ben’s path, the crash seeming to have been Hughie stumbling into the wall in an attempt to get away from the standoff.

“You’re not coming, Soldier Boy. This is a goddamn delicate operation, and you’re the fucking reason we have to do it in the first place. We can’t afford you throwing a tantrum and screwing us.”

“I’m fucking coming, and it’s not up for fucking debate.”

Off to the side, Frenchie snickered as Kimiko signed how many times do you think he’s said that before?

Ben shot them an annoyed look, his fists clenching. “What’s so fucking funny?”

“Nothing,” Frenchie snickered, and his tone was so remarkably unconvincing that even if you hadn’t understood Kimiko, you wouldn’t have believed him.

Ben grunted and tried to move past MM, again to no avail.

He glared down at the firmly planted man, a familiar violent glint in his eyes. “You better fucking move now, before I make you.”

“Do your fucking worst, we’ll put you right back in the box. You’re not coming with us.”

“MM,” you said firmly, watching Ben's fists clench as the dangerous glint returns to his eyes. “We need to go.”

MM looks back at you, but remains in his place. “Are you fucking serious? You’re siding with him?”

“I’m not siding with him.” You keep your voice level, ignoring Ben’s smug face and grin. “We can’t leave him. The I go where he goes thing unfortunately goes both ways.”

“The safe house will hold him for five hours.” MM pushed, and before you could even shake your head, Ben cut in.=

"No, it won’t.”

You shoot him a look that says you’re being unhelpful, and he just returns it with his own of fuck off, you know you fucking want me there.

“Please, MM. He’ll stay quiet in the background, or I’ll burn his dick off. Right?” You direct your last words at Ben, giving him a pointed agree with me or I’m knocking you out and leaving you here look.

“Yeah, whatever. But I’m not staying in the fucking van like a pussy. And you’d better explain what the fuck is happening on the way, Sunshine.”

“Deal. But first they,” You narrowed your eyes at Butcher. “Have some explaining of their own to do.”

“Don’t lose your bloody mind, Love, it’s all in order.” Butcher said breezily, shoving past you to open the door. He gave a dramatic wave of his arm for you to exit, and with a look of doubt, you did.

The car ride was already poised to be uncomfortable. Butcher’s car was not equipped for seven people, let alone seven people where three were very large men, three were supes, and nobody wanted to have physical contact with two. As such, Butcher drove, MM sat in the front, you found yourself squished against one window with Ben between you and a remarkably uncomfortable Hughie, as Kimiko sat, slightly elevated onto their laps, between Frenchie at the other window, and Hughie. It was overall an unideal situation, made worse as your own frustration was amplified by Ben’s, and by Hughie revealing that it was, in fact, not all in order.

Your phase one, the original operation Quick and Bald had called for Ashley Barrett’s complete cooperation. You’d even painstakingly outlined all the potential ways to flip her—most involving something along the lines of hey, wouldn’t a job that didn’t make you so stressed you rip out all your hair and have to buy a bunch of wigs be nice?—and different ways to keep Homelander from finding out about her betrayal—Spain was lovely this time of year, and had a thriving BDSM community Ashley would love. While MM had managed to take care of your instructions for A-Train, the half of the plan you’d incorrectly anticipated to be more difficult, the Ashley situation was, in Butcher’s words, very fucking delicate, but we’ve adapted and everything will be bloody fine, so trust me and don’t be a fucking cunt about it.

You did not trust him. I didn’t help that you’d asked for any other possible details, and he’d pretended he couldn’t hear you. This suspicion was confirmed when, despite your incredible clarity that you would never step foot there again, Butcher seemed to be driving right to Vought Tower.

Your eyes had been steadily widening, panic starting to run through you the closer and closer you got, and you flinched when you felt Ben’s roughly shoulder nudge your own.

“What’s fucking wrong with you?” He’d asked in a low voice, barely audible over Hughie’s rambling explanation.

“You should listen,” you mutter back, trying to shut out the confusing concern he always seemed to feel at you, how it felt remarkably genuine, but was laced with anger that felt like it was trying to push out of your body. “Hughie’s explaining the plan.”

“Yeah, but all I have to fucking do is stay quiet, and I get to keep my dick. You’re being fucking twitchy and silent, and your heart is beating faster than it has all damn day, so don’t even try to fucking lie and tell me it’s fine.”

“It is fine, I’m fine-“ You paused as his words sank in. “Wait, what do you mean my heart-“

“Alright, here we go.” Butcher cut off both you and Hughie with a clap of his hands. “Everyone bloody out, let’s get this shitshow on the road.”

“Butcher,” you said, looking around to see you’d parked directly across from the tower entrance. “What the fuck are we doing here?”

“We’re meeting them right there.” MM answered for Butcher, pointing out of his window to something you couldn’t see. “It’s almost midnight, and Annie’s been making sure nobody gets inside but us.”

“But why?” You protest, even as MM leaves the car. “This,” you give a wide, general wave that hits Ben in the nose. “Cannot be the only option.”

“Both of them still have their trackers,” Hughie leans forward with an apologetic look as Frenchie and Kimiko exit the car. “This will look like they’re just getting a midnight snack, and hopefully Homelander won’t get suspicious.”

“Hopefully?!” You feel a rush of anger—not yours—and a twist of fear deep within your gut—absolutely yours. “Hopefully fucking Homelander won’t get suspicious?!”

Hughie gave an uncertain nod before very quickly scrambling to get out of the car. You take a long, deep breath, trying to steel yourself. A rush of what was becoming a familiar fuming and brittle concern ran through you. You look at Ben, to find his eyes locked firmly onto yours.

“Sorry about hitting-“

“I know how to hot-wire a car.”

You blink at him, taken aback by the firmness of his voice. “What?”

His hand moved to grip your thigh, his gaze not wavering. “I know how to hot-wire a car.”

You give him a flat look. “Yeah, I heard you the first time. Why are you telling me that?”

His frustration leaked into you. “Because say the word, I’ll steal Butcher’s car, and we’ll fucking leave.”

“What? Are you insane?”

“You look like you’re either going to start fucking crying or burst into flames, and this is a stupid fucking idea.”

“This was my plan.” You snap. “And I’m not stealing Butcher’s car. Why do you even know how to hot-wire a car anyway?”

Ben’s grip tightened. “No, your plan was stupidly well fucking thought out.”

“That’s an oxymoron.” You mutter, and he ignores you.

“And even if they haven’t completely fucking blown the execution, they completely squashed any chance of safety.”

“It’ll be fine,” you say, the words sounding fake even as you say them. “It’s late. He’s probably asleep.”

“What if he’s not?” His concern was starting to move to your throat, and there was something else, something sitting far deeper in your chest, beating and beating against you. Against you.

“Ben.” You place your hand over his. “I’ve worked too hard on this. This is the only way, and it will be fine.” You say the last words firmly and clearly, trying to make them sink into you. “Now take your fucking hand off of me, and get out of the damn car.”

He pulls himself from you, and even as his touch leaves, the concern and beat linger until he’s gone from the car. You drag yourself across the seats and ignore Hughie’s offer of a hand as you duck out of the car and onto the curb. You notice the 24 hour diner MM must have been pointing out almost immediately, half because—aside from an incredibly sketchy looking deli a few doors down—it’s the only building with its lights still on, and half because two very flustered teenagers are sulking away from the entrance, where Annie stands with her arms crossed. She’s already spotted your group, and has angeled her head in a signal to join her.

“You’re late.” She chides as you approach.

“Well, Starlight, I’d apologize, but it was those two fuckheads,” Ben and MM both receive a jabbed thumb over Butcher’s shoulder. “Who decided to draw out the bloody carpool process.”

“I told you not to call me Starlight anymore, Butcher.” Annie snaps, not giving him a chance to respond before she turns to you. “A-Train is, somehow, running behind as well. Hopefully Ashley’s just being resistant to getting food with him, but they’ll be here.”

“Isn’t running that pussy’s whole fucking thing?” Ben muttered, quiet enough for only you to hear. You step as hard as you can on his foot.

“Shut it, Pretty Boy.” You whisper over his grunt of what probably is more emotional pain than physical.

“Bitch.” He hisses back.

“Cunt.” You raise your voice so the others can hear you. “We should go inside, it’s risky to just… stand here.”

With nervous looks around and stuttered agreements, you all make your way into the diner. The lights are flickering, and it’s eerily empty with only a very nervous-looking blonde waitress at the counter. She makes a very big show of asking how many are in your party, leading you to a large, round table, and laying out the menus with shaky hands. Kimiko, Hughie, Annie, and MM try and offer her comforting smiles, though MM’s is strained as he keeps a vigilant glare on Ben. The waitress is staring at Ben herself, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, glacing back as she leaves to get your and Butcher’s coffee, Annie and MM’s tea, Kimiko and Hughie’s milkshakes, and Ben and Frenchie’s orders of “the strongest alcohol you’ve fucking got.” Your personal bet was it was going to just be very old beer.

“Why is she fucking staring at me?” Ben muttered to you, watching the waitress as she walked away. “Did you fuck up my beard that bad?”

“Your beard looks literally the same.” You dismiss. “And it’s because, as far as the public knows, Maeve killed you in a heroic act of self-sacrifice to stop your evil, anti-American attacks. That, or she wants to fuck you.”

“Hm,” he looks back at you, settling down into his seat. “Am I allowed to bring guests into the safe house?”

“No.” You say, a little more curtly than you intended. Seeing his wide, cocky grin, you clairfy. “It’s a breach of security. She would need to pass a CIA vetting and be approved by, like, twenty people. I don’t think she’d do that just to fuck you.”

Ben shrugs, his smirk only growing. “You did.”

“I’m going to cut off your balls and feed them to you-“

“Hey,” MM cuts you off, saying your name in a brisk, hard tone from across the table. “They’re here.”

You snap your head to the door, where A-Train is practically pushing Ashley into the diner.

You hear her voice clearly over the recession pop humming from the speakers. “Why can’t we just go to the fucking deli? They make these amazing meatball subs and supes eat free, so you could order for both of us- oh fuck no.”

“Oh, shit.” MM mutters, jumping to his feet with Butcher and Annie as Ashley notices them, and promptly tries to dash for the exit.

You don’t entirely blame her. You’d probably do the same. You had done the same, an unhelpful voice reminds you.

“I- Am- Not-“ Ashley is trying to get past A-Train, who hasn’t given up trying to herd her further into the diner. “Fuck- this-“

“Ashley, just listen to them, I fucking swear-“

“Why should I trust you?!” Ashley doubles over, out of breath. “You fucking tricked me! Midnight snack my fucking ass- Fuck no!” She raises a crooked finger at Annie, who has stopped in front of her. “Get the fuck away from me, you bitch.”

“Ashley, please listen to A-Train-“

“No! Just leave me the fuck alone! I don’t want to be a part of your weird fucking eye for an eye justice shit-“

“You kind of already are.” MM says as he locks the door behind her. “You work for Vought, your it’s motherfucking CEO. That makes you a part of this, like it or not.”

“Not!” Ashley shouts. “I don’t care what you have to say! Homelander’s going to fucking kill me, oh my god.” She starts to hyperventilate. “If he finds out I was here, he’ll kill you-“ She points a shaky finger at A-Train. “And then make me go on fucking TV to explain why you’re missing, and then fucking kill me-“

Butcher scoffs. “Bloody hell, lady. Calm the fuck down, Homelander ain’t gonna find out.”

“You don’t know that!” She shrieked. “He knows fucking everything! Especially since fucking Sage joined!” She spins around frantically, and her wild eyes lock onto yours. “He knows about them!” A shaking finger jumps between you and Ben. “Fuck! He’s supposed to be fucking asleep and now he’s fucking not! And he was so fucking angry about her, I’ve never seen him so fucking angry-“

Whatever else Ashley stutters about Homelander’s anger is lost to you as the world freezes. The feeling isn’t just under your skin, it’s up your spine, in your blood, circling around your brain. It’s fucking everywhere and you can’t fucking breathe, her words looping around you.

He knows. He’s angry. He fucking knows. He’s fucking angry. He fucking knows and he’s fucking angry and he fucking knows and he’s fucking angry and-

A white hot, impossibly calm feeling crashes over you. It’s angry, hungry and angry, but it’s grounding, sharpening everything around you. Suddenly the world is back in complete focus, Ashley’s shrill rambling scraping at your ears, and in the distance that weird fucking rhythm is sounding. As the feeling in your body returns fully, you realize Ben’s hand is back on your thigh. You bounce it, looking up to give him a glare, and find he’s not even looking at you. Instead, his eyes are trained on Ashley, narrowed and cold. You give a small cough, and when he glances down at you, the feeling of anger stutters with something lighter, though only for a second.

You give another bounce of your leg, a look of move your damn hand or lose it taking over your face.

No, not until you calm the fuck down his scowl responds.

You huff, standing abruptly, and his hand falls off at the force of your movement. Suddenly you feel a lot less solid, but reason that your legs are shaky from the Homelander of it all, and if any situation calls for fractured nerves, it’s this one.

“Ashley.” You call across the diner, trying not to stutter or chew off your lip as her protests falters and attention turns to you. “If you know who I am, you know I wouldn’t be anywhere near here if we weren’t certain it was safe. Just have some food with us, listen, and then you can go.”

Ashley gives you a scowl that might surpass Ben’s but nods tightly, yanking her arm from where A-Train had been trying to hold her in place. You sit back down as the group at the door returns to their seats, the poor waitress pressing herself against the bar as they pass. Letting out a shaky, unsteady breath, you try and still yourself as you look out the diner window. City lights. Music.

City lights.

Music.

It was safe. He knows and he’s angry but was safe and there were city lights and music.

Your breathing was no longer coming in short, distressed bursts, but getting air in and out of yourself still felt like an act of labor, and you needed to get it the fuck together before Ashley sat down.

City lights. Music.

You can’t hear the song the diner is playing, instead letting your whole mind turn inward, allowing the ghost of music you can no longer sing to wash over you.

Ashley sits across from you right when you regain control, and from the corner of your eye, you see Ben pulling his hand from where it had been inching towards yours.

Her eyes flit, nerves poorly hidden, from you to Ben to Butcher to Annie and back to you, and her voice is high and shaky when she speaks. “Well?”

“Ashley, we need your help.” Annie leans forward, palms flat on the table.

“Well, then we’re done. I can’t help you. They don’t tell me anything, not really.” Ashley tries to stand, but her arm is caught by A-Train. “Really?” A-Train hisses as he pulls her back into her seat beside him. “They don’t tell you anything my ass, we sit in on all the same meetings. And I pulled these files-“ He pulls out a thumb drive from absolutely nowhere and drops it on the table. “Using your name, so you clearly have access to them.”

“What?!” Ashley looks at the thumb drive like it’s going to either explode or start jizzing on her blouse. “Why would you fucking do that?”

“Insurance.” A-Train answers smugly, the thumbdrive clearly having his intended. “I can’t open it, so you’re going to tell them how, and then I’ll erase the records of you taking the files from the system.”

Ashley looks around at your group, shaking her head. “No.”

“Sorry, Mate. We ain’t really asking.” Butcher leans across A-Train, shoving the thumb drive closer to Ashley. “Do us this solid, and A-Train won’t go right up to Homelander and tell him about how he saw you also cuddly and tight with me, Soldier Boy, and his favorite missing person.”

Your heart jumps right into your throat. City lights. Music.

Suddenly, Ben’s elbow is planted against yours, and you’re pulled back down to earth just in time to hear Ashley yell, “This is fucking blackmail! I’ll fucking sue!”

“You cannot sue government officials, madame.” Frenchie says smugly, and Hughie shakes his head.

“That’s- Frenchie, that’s not even kind of true.”

“You’re also not a government official.” Annie adds.

Frenchie looks genuinely perplexed at this and gives Kimiko a confused frown, receiving a shrug in return.

“But,” you pipe up, your voice somehow bored and casual. “I’m legally dead. He’s-“ You jab Ben in the chest, and Ashley’s eyes widen. “Legally dead and an enemy of the state. You can’t sue either of us, not without admitting some Vought secrets that will be very bad PR.” You give her a twisted smile, leering across the table. “Help us, or, even if Homelander believes you, which we both know he won’t, you’ll get fired. And I’m sure they’ll be very understanding and normal about how they do it.”

You feel a flash of weird pride and realize you can see Ben fighting a smile in your periphery.

Ashley has a fearful expression, looking at where your elbow is still connected with Ben’s. “What- what's even on it?”

“Becca Butcher files.” You say, not taking your gaze from her, but you didn’t need to look around to see the sudden, rigidness with which everyone sat. You even felt Ben’s own shock run through you.

You’d be lying if you said hiding the exact contents of the file hadn’t been a very purposeful choice that you and Butcher had made. He’d cornered you, demanding to know what you planned on doing should Soldier Boy go after Ryan, and you’d told him that it wouldn’t be an issue. Ryan looked up to Homelander, that was why he stayed. He’d lost his mother, he didn’t trust Butcher, all the poor kid had was his insane, sociopathic father. Some part of you—small and sad and tired, still sitting on a staircase in Boston—understood that. But with Becca gone, gone forever, Ryan didn’t have a place to run like you’d had. Homelander was the default, and just kind enough to his son that Ryan could force himself to forgive Homelander again and again. Homelander was safe for Ryan.

You were going to make sure Ryan never saw Homelander as safe again. And that started with Becca Butcher and would end with you. So you and Butcher had agreed with a tight handshaked that he'd ripped his hand from right after, everyone was only going to know what they needed to. That was the only way it would work.

“Becca Butcher files?” MM repeats in a slow, incredulous tone. “You,” he turns with a look of shock to Butcher. “You knew about this? You’re fuckin okay with this?”

“I’m doing what has to be done, Mate.” Butcher answers flatly, then says your name. “Tell ‘em the plan, Love.”

“We need to get Ryan away from Homelander. Ryan needs to know about his mother.”

“No,” Ashley was emerging from the shock to try and stand from the table, but A-Train’s arm shot out, pulling her back down once more. “No,” she says again, looking around desperately. “Ryan, Ryan is all he has. All he cares about. You take Ryan he’ll lose his mind-“

“He’s already lost his mind.” Something snaps in your chest—a cruel feeling waking up as you watch Ashley fret about Homelander. “And I couldn’t give less fucks about what he cares about.” The feeling is crawling across your skin. “If this hurts him, good. It could never hurt him enough to make it right.” You hear drums and still can’t place where they’re coming from. “Now listen to the last fucking strand of your morality on your scalp and fucking help us.”

Ashley shakes her head again, this time with less certainty. “It’s- no- He-“ she pulls in a deep, unsteady breath. “He won’t stop until he gets Ryan back. He already is going insane about you and him and how he needs to get you back safe and put him back down, and if Ryan goes to then nothing will stop him-“

The drums are loud now, and something that’s usually there on Ben’s face is missing. Your own body doesn’t feel entirely normal anymore, but it’s not paralyzed or running. You can feel something in Ben caving, falling inward in a growing rhythm, moving in time as something in you grows. It's not in you now, it’s across you, coating your skin and singing with glee.

“Ashley,” the sound of your voice is a little far away, but you can hear it echo through you. It’s wired, hot, a warning.

“I- I can’t.”

“Yes, you fucking can.” You sneer. “You’re just too much of a pussy to do it.” Ben coughs in the way that you know means he wants to laugh, just as the drums stutter and move farther away.

“Please, I don’t-“

“Do not make me stab you.”

Ashley falters, looking you up and down. “You won’t.”

“Trust me, she will.” Ben smirks, giving you a nudge. “She’s surprisingly violent.”

“I, I won’t. I can’t. He’ll kill me-“

“You think we won’t?” Ben growls, any amusement in him gone as you feel something unbreakable and resolved through your body.

Ashley tries to run again, this time actually managing to get up from the table, but is knocked flat on her ass by A-Train before she can take two steps. You stand and give the itch, now under your tongue and your nails, a small scratch.

“Oh, fuck no.” You hear scrambling as you walk around the table and stop, staring down at Ashley.

She’s crawling back from you, back from the fire curling from your whole body, and disgust curls in your gut. For the first time you feel anger—insatiable and gory anger—all of your own. No city lights flash around you, no hollow music dances around your head. You don’t fear Ashley. She’s weak and spineless. She’s willing to cover her hands in Ryan’s blood, in your blood, to keep herself safe from Homelander. She’s staring at you, terrified, and you don’t need to touch her to know it isn’t even a fraction of all the fear you felt in that white room. That white room she knows about, may have seen, and is still trying to keep Homelander happy.

You bend down, letting all your hatred for Vought, for her, cover your features. When you speak, your words are clear and low.

“You are going to tell Butcher how to access the thumbdrive. A-Train and you are going to take some food with you, and walk back to the tower. You aren’t going to tell Homelander about this, and if he asks, offer him some leftovers. A-Train will erase your activity from the files, and you’re going to pretend the whole night never happened. If you tell Homelander about either me or Be-“ You correct yourself smoothly. “Soldier Boy, the last thing I will do before he locks me away again is kill you. Do I make myself clear?”

Ashley nods frantically, flinching when you raise your hand.

“Say it. Say that I made myself clear.”

“You-“ Ashley stutters, hiccuping. “You made yourself clear.”

You draw yourself back up. “Good. Butcher, I’m leaving. You can drive me and come back, or Ben can steal your car, but I’m leaving.”

When you turn, when you see the looks on your team’s face, all the anger is gone, and suddenly there is a crushing, painful weight of shame on your chest. They’re looking at you like Ashley had been, like you’re no better than Homelander. Like maybe you should go back in the room, it would be safer for them, it would be safer for everyone if you were far, far away-

“You heard the lady.” Ben is standing, walking around to your side. “It’s late. We’re leaving. Sunshine?” He offers you his arm, and you stare between it and your own, still covered in flame. Looking up, his face looks bored, as if this is just another Tuesday, and he offers his arm to women who are actively ablaze on a regular basis.

Your face feels slack, and all you can manage is to blink at him. I’ll burn you, Pretty Boy. It’ll hurt.

His brows subtly knit, and he doesn’t move. I’ll live, Sunshine. Don’t let them see you break. We’re going home.

You look back at your team, a wide circle of berth having formed around you and Ben. Butcher is looking between the two of you, and you recognize that glint in his eyes. You’d seen it before, but it’s only been really, truly directed at you once. In a graveyard in Boston, gravestones and bushes around you burning in the dead of winter, holding a bucket of ice that steamed off your skin. Under it, fear begins to creep back into you, exhaustion pushing it forward. Butcher reaches behind him, and your knees feel weak.

But you don’t fall. Zealous anger, strong and raw, spreads through you and Butcher’s movements still. You look down and find Ben’s arm unflinchingly looped through yours, his body at its full height as his eyes rake coldly over Butcher.

The silence hangs in the air, cut through only by Ashley’s quick, sobbed breaths. For a second you think the smoke seeping from you will overtake the room before anyone moves, but Butcher slowly reaches into his pockets, eyes not leaving Ben’s, and throws the keys at Hughie.

“Drop them off, Mate, then come right back. No bloody detours.”

Hughie stares at the keys, looking like he’s going to protest, but Kimiko grabs them before he can.

She turns to you, completely composed, no fear wavering as she locks your eyes with hers. I’ll take you.

Before you can thank her, Frenchie steps forward, signing as he speaks. “Mon Coeur, you cannot drive.”

She frowns. Yes I can.

“No, Mon Coeur, not legally.” Frenchie says, exasperated, and you have a feeling this is not first time they've had this debate.

Kimiko rolls her eyes at you. Fine. She signs back at Frenchie, throwing the keys at him. You’ll do it.

Frenchie stumbles as he catches them, giving Kimiko a shocked look, which she pretends not to see as she walks to the door, signing at you as she passes.

Let’s go before Butcher’s brain starts working.

A small smile threatens your face, and you move, tugging Ben’s arm only once before he falls into pace with you, Frenchie scrambling behind you both.

The car ride back feels longer. The moment you’d stepped out of the diner, your body had extinguished, and you had a worrying sense that the only thing keeping you from collapsing on the sidewalk was Ben’s arm firm through yours. No words were said for the entirety of the drive, you and Ben in the backseat as Frenchie drove and Kimiko lounged in shotgun, and your brain raced. Ben hadn’t let go, and the drums were fading in and out of your chest as he stared ahead into the night.

You arrived at the safe house, only a street lamp casting a dull glow across the street. The chill of the wind cutting against you as Kimiko walked you to the door, Frenchie mumbling something about keeping the car safe from Hooligans. Ben made to step inside, but halted, still not releasing your arm, as you stayed at the doorstep.

At his questioning glare, you tried to wiggle his arm from yours. “Go inside, Ben. I’ll be right there.”

He looked down at where he was still connected with you, and you felt reluctance in time with the drums, but he let go with a scowl. “Be fast,” he grunted, and stomped into the house.

You watched until he’d disappeared fully down the hall, turning to Kimiko only once his back was shrouded in the darkness of the house.

“Thank you,” you give her a soft smile, signing as you speak. “I- I don’t know what happened, I just-“

She shakes her head, and you trail off. I understand. I get angry too. She pauses, hands hovering for only a second. We are not like them. She points down the street, in the direction of the tower, and then past you, into the house. We get to be angry.

“I don’t want to be angry.” You say softly. “He wins when I get angry.”

Kimiko gives you a sad look, placing a hand on your arm. Her own frustration, her fear of Homelander, all the anger at the world, sinks into you. She holds your gaze for a second before drawing back to sign once more. He doesn’t win when you’re angry. He wins when you’re scared. You’re not Soldier Boy. Your anger is good.

You glance back into the house. “I think he- Ben- Soldier Boy- is scared. Or something. His emotions are really fucking confusing.”

You let him touch you. She signs. Does he know?

“He said he didn’t care, because he’s, and I quote, ‘not a pussy with something to hide’.”

But he’s scared? She gives you a questioning frown. Do you think it’s because of Russia? Could you fix it, like you offered for me?

“I’m not sure, but-“ you’re cut off as Frenchie honks the horn, leaning out the window.

“Mon Coeur!” His odd position makes his signing almost unintelligible, which he seems to realize, and raises his voice. “Monsieur Butcher says to get back ‘like a hare with a bomb up it’s arse'.”

Kimiko rolls her eyes at you, but signs a goodbye, giving your hand a small squeeze before returning to the car. As the engine rumbles, Frenchie pulling out the driveway, Kimiko’s calm faith lingers in you, and you walk back into the house, shutting the door behind you.

Almost all the lamps and ceiling lights of the house are off, the TV glowing from where you had abandoned it several hours ago. From the bottom of the stairs, you can see the upstairs hall is washed in a soft yellow, and when you reach the top Ben’s door is open, the light from within filling the hall. You stop at the entrance to his room, his back to you as he pulls a cotton shirt over his head.

You let out a small cough in a weak attempt to alert him to your presence.

“You’re allowed to just come in, Sunshine.” He grunts, still facing away. “I’m not a shy little virgin you need to pussyfoot around.”

You let out a small hum, walking over the threshold and stopping a few feet behind him. “Thank you.” You say softly, and he turns around to look at you.

His eyes are tired. Pained. Something looks like it’s pulling at him and it scares you. You’ve seen that expression before, when you’d woken him up that first day, at the Neuman mission, when you pulled him from nightmares with sharp hits, but never just there. It was always with something. This was like an island, just him and you, nothing pulling it out of him.

“Don’t thank me.” He says gruffly. Even his voice is drained. “You mostly held your own.”

“But-“

“And stop feeling bad about that Ashley bitch. She fucking deserved it.”

You stare at him. “You really believe that?”

He lets out a hollow laugh. “She was fucking pathetic. A fucking pussy. Fucking eating out Homelander’s fucking hand, brown-nosing him until he fucking cums and pays her, letting him take you-“ His jaw clenches. “I fucking meant it when I said we’re not going back Sunshine. I’m not a goddamn pussy liar.”

“I didn’t think you were. But, you…” Your voice fades as you try to find the words. “I could feel you. At the diner.”

“I fucking know, that was the goddamn point. I wasn’t going to let you start crying in front of those self-righteous pussies.”

“No, Ben.” You shake your head. “I could feel you. I could feel it.” You place a hand over your chest. “It was building. There was something beating against you, inside you. And you looked…” You watch him carefully. “Scared.”

“Fucking watch it.” He growls. “I don’t get fucking scared. I’m not-“

“A fucking pussy. I know.” You sigh. “I don’t want to, I can’t, fight right now. I’m so fucking tired. You can scream at me in the morning, but not right now, please.”

He stares at you, and just when you think he’s going to start yelling, he nods. “You’re…” He sounds strange. “You’re ok.”

Just like the last time he said it, the words aren’t phrased like a question. They don’t feel like a question. It feels like he’s just telling you again. But there’s something under it this time, something that makes his words almost unsure. Something that makes up your mind faster than you thought you would.

“Are you?” You ask quietly.

“Of course I fucking am.”

“Ben.” You tilt your head at him. “I’m going to tell you something, and I don’t want you to respond now.”

“You’re being fucking weird, Sunshine.”

“Please.”

He relents with a grunt. “Fucking fine. What.”

“I can fix it.” It’s so hard to keep his gaze as you speak. “It will take time, but I can fix it.”

“Fix what.” He scowls. “There’s nothing to fucking fix.”

“Your PTSD.”

“I don’t fucking have-“

“Ben, I could feel it. It’s dangerous. I could fix it.” You take a deep breath. “I can fix internal injuries as well. I offered to fix Kimiko’s muteness, but she didn’t want me to do it.”

“Then what fucking makes you think-“

“Muteness isn’t dangerous. And it would’ve been harder for me, I might have ended up mute myself. You’re dangerous like this. You can’t fucking control it, and don’t try and lie and say it’s under control. Ashley mentioned putting you back under, and you looked like someone was drowning you.”

“Shut the fuck up, Sunshine.” He leers at you. “You don’t fucking know me, know what it was like-“

“I do. You know I do.” You whisper, and the anger on his face breaks. “More than anyone else, I know. I can fix it, but you’ll have to let me. Just-“ You search his eyes, not sure what you’re looking for. “Just think about it. I won’t mention it again, I won’t even touch you, but my offer will stay on the table. Please, just think about it.”

Before you can leave, he grabs your hand. A rush of painful exhaustion runs through you, and there’s anger, but it’s not full of the fervor you’ve come to expect from him. It’s not even at you. It’s wide and almost consuming, leaving room for only a small kernel of something fragile and warm.

“I don’t care if you keep touching me, Sunshine. I've go nothing to hide from you, and that’s not going to change. But there’s nothing in me you need to fucking fix, so don’t fucking bother.”

“I’m not trying to fix you, Ben,” You murmur. "But remember, you burn, I burn. Please don't burn." Your last words are soft, and the kernel pulses.

“Good,” he grunts, releasing your arm. A small smirk crawls onto his face. “Now I don’t care if it’s here or in your room, Sunshine, but you need to go the fuck to bed. You look like shit.”

Just as he says it, the full weight of your fatigue hits you. You give a mumbled acknowledgement of his words, and try to leave the room, but all the adrenaline is gone from your system and nothing is left to stop the failure of your legs or droop of your eyes. The last thing you feel is something pulling you up before your knees hit the carpet, the last thing you see is green eyes on your own, and you hear an amused snort from above you.

“Goodnight, Sunshine. Try not to dream about me.”

You try to object, but sleep pulls you under before you can even remember why you need to.

[jeanmoreautemple]

Thea Muldani: a rant

I feel weird about Thea but I can’t really put into words exactly why? So I’m writing down some things I’ve thought.

I honestly didn’t think much about her before TSC, like she was okay (I wish she’d been introduced earlier tho or that she hadn’t graduated already so she was a recurrent Raven player or something).

After reading the extra content I wasn’t bothered about the age gap between her and Kevin but yes a little bit about the fact that Kevin was fourteen when they first met + the -you fuck like a virgin, maybe some practice will make you better at it- comment that Nora included. It was uuhh weird but the rest of the Kevthea story was okay, and Thea is 100% not a groomer. Plus, Nora technically deleted the extra content so in theory nothing there is canon yet.

Now in TSC we get her sole appearance in TKM from Jean’s POV, who has known her since he was fourteen (like Kevin- this is important to keep in mind). The scene starts out cute! We find out she took him under her wing and even had nicknames for him like Paris and her little duckling🥰. So the fourteen year boy that just arrived from france with broken English looked up to her, Thea was ~21 at this point.

We know Jean is going through HELL during this time:

And we also know the Moriyamas were always particularly cruel with Jean, getting more physical him than with Kevin. Even though It’s said that Riko would torture Jean and Kevin (broken hand incident) in private, hence the other Ravens not knowing the whole picture, how can a fourteen year old kid hide such pain? But apparently , as we later find out, Thea was too deep into the Evermore raven cult mindset that she didn’t find anything strange about the coach and Rikk’s behavior towards Jean.

At 15 Jean is given a number and place in the perfect court, but only at 16 joins the lineup. He gets a lot of hate, especially from the other defensemen, whom Thea works with:

Although the Ravens are know for being extremely violent training, at least in the court Thea must have noticed that the defense line were especially brutal to Jean. Or SOMETHING.

But here comes the worst part: during this same year Riko forces Jean to sleep with 5 defensemen. By the time Jean is a junior most of these have graduated which means they were 20 or older. So Thea had been playing with each of these guys for at least 2 years (except for Grayson), she knew them.

They went on to joke and talk about the whole ordeal as Jean paying for his perfect court number. Thea also being in the defense line could have heard all of this first hand, we don’t know. But It’s so widely talked about that it reaches Tetsuji and we do know Thea witnessed Jean’s punishment:

Coincidentally Thea starts a sexual and emotional relationship with Kevin this year (it’s her last too).

So here’s the part that made me dislike Thea very much. In TKM she goes to Kevin demanding answers, Kevin then brings her to Jean, who is looking like this:

It’s been three years since she graduated but she’s still wearing her Raven number in a necklace, and when she sees Jean’s state in TSC she comments how if Kevin hadn’t said anything she’d think it normal:

By now it’s clear she at 26 is still 100% brainwashed, but this next line of hers cemented it:

YOUR OLD TRICKS ?!

So let’s break that down:

1. The immigrant kid (16!) she watched over for two years from age 14 to 16 suddenly starts having sex with members of HER (23!) defense line who are all around her age and openly hate him for 5 consecutive nights and she doesn’t suspect anything?

2. Said defensemen then brag and shame Jean afterwards calling him a whore, which leads to Jean getting beaten half to dead by their coach and still nothing?

3. Years later she recalls the incident as Jean being up to his little tricks and being rightfully beaten to a pulp?!!!!

I can’t. I know she’s also a cult victim but no. It was super common for Ravens to have hate sex with each other but her being close to Kevin (and somewhat Jean) during the time Jean’s (a 16 year old!) assaults were happening and still remaining this clueless… I’m sure she must be lovable for both Kevin and Jean to respect and care for her so much but her one scene convinced me she’s way too deep into the Raven spirit and her presence around Kevin and Jean would be just so harmful.

But I have to give credit when it’s due, apparently after some hours with Kevin and 7 years later she believes her King broke Kevin’s hand:

In conclusion:

Thea is absolutely no groomer but if one takes a look at her attitude towards Jean’s sexual history when he was 16 and how her relationship with Kevin was happening simultaneously, her you fuck like a virgin, maybe some practice will make you better at it and tell me you weren’t up to your old tricks comment combo, it all makes me dislike her. Cause you’d think someone who at 22-23 was dating a boy who had just turned legal would be careful or mature enough to choose her wording better when talking about the sexual activity between a boy close in age to her own boyfriend with people around HER age, but nope. The fact that Kevin married her, has a child and lives happily ever after with her seems unbelievable to me.

PS: Her and Kevin’s (we don’t know if he believes Riko) apparent ignorance or lack of suspicion of Jean’s freshman year assault was the most hurtful part of TSC tbh (not counting Elodie). Imagine having the closest people to you misunderstand/ believe lies about such a traumatic event. I guess this is why Nora didn’t include a Andrew POV, I would have died or wanted to kill Nicky and Aaron for not looking deeper into Andrew’s attitude.

[o-sachi]

Cowboy, Pirate, or Samurai? pt. 2 ₊⊹ Blue Lock Chars.

ଳ how the blue lock boys respond to, “would you rather be a cowboy, pirate, or samurai?”

ଳ characters; rin itoshi, sae itoshi, shidou ryusei, michael kaiser, alexis ness, hiyori yo, kiyora jin

ᯓ Rin Itoshi - Samurai

He'd find the question a bit stupid because is his answer not obvious? "Too noisy," he'd say about the pirate and the cowboy. Rin's more of a lone wolf—moving in silence and always planning his next move. I don't see him choosing anything else aside from the samurai. Also, I have a feeling he's not too fond of water, especially the wide and deep waters of the seas that pirates have to traverse. He looks like the type to have motion sickness, but he's too prideful to admit it.

ᯓ Sae Itoshi - Pirate

Have you seen that one official art? I mean... I think Sae has the qualities to be the leader of a ship. Our idea of that has probably been influenced by Jack Sparrow or Luffy—both having loud and vibrant personalities. But even though Sae is more of the silent and brooding type, he has the potential to be a good leader if he wanted to. Canonically, he is also a strategist which is something very useful to commandeer a ship. And as we can see in the main story, it's easy for him to get people to follow him purely through his reputation and skill.

ᯓ Shidou Ryusei - Pirate

Unlike Sae, Shidou will probably choose pirate entirely due to Jack Sparrow. He has seen the Pirates of the Caribbean once and vaguely remembers thinking, "He just like me for real," about Captain Jack Sparrow. So upon asking this question to him, the eccentric pirate was the first thing to come to mind. Oh and if he hears Sae's answer then he's just likely to copy him regardless of what he might initially thought.

ᯓ Michael Kaiser - Cowboy

Out of the three choices, cowboys seem to be the ones that are cherished by their people. They're viewed as the hard working heroes—fighting off thieves or whatnot in exchange for little to nothing at all. Kaiser probably imagines what it would be like to be needed by the people—to be loved by them. He might not be too interested in the whole saving-the-public part of being a cowboy, but he can't pass up the opportunity to be revered as the hero of the people. I love you, Kaiser :((

ᯓ Alexis Ness - Pirate

He'd grumble when asked about the question. "Why are you only giving me lame choices?" he'd retort. Obviously, he'd rather be a wizard. What's the point if you can't do the unthinkable? But he digresses. Pirates aren't magical in any sense, but they're the closest to doing the impossible. They travel far and wide over dangerous seas, collect treasures, and plunder other pirates' bounty. Plus, their bodies are built different to adapt to the tumultuous waters. When you put it like that, pirates seem to be in a different realm compared to the cowboy or the samurai. Even after that tangent, however—he'll still make it clear that he's choosing wizard.

ᯓ Hiyori Yo - Cowboy

"Cowboys have pistols, right?" Well, he's sold. It hardly matters that samurais have katanas or that pirates have literal canons—Hiyori thinks those aren't practical at all. Besides, we can't really blame him for being largely influenced by the shooting games that he plays back at home. He's quite confident that he'd win in every standoff he'd find himself in. Sure, he has never tried it in real life, but if he's hitting no-scopes in game then it should be the same thing, right?

ᯓ Kiyora Jin - Samurai

He probably doesn't really care for being a pirate or a samurai—like he doesn't see anything appealing about it. With that being said, does his replica katana collection and extensive knowledge of the Shinsengumi entice you? Well, it should. I dunno... but Kiyora seems like the guy that's super into swords for no other reason besides he thinks that they are "rad." He has definitely played sword fighting with his siblings when they were younger. He may or may not have pretended to be Okita Souji when he was a young lad.

[🐟]: Should I do the other characters?

ε( ε ˙³˙)ɜ ｡° ⚬ ｡ likes and reblogs are appreciated

o-sachi © 2024

[persevereforahappyending]

He Hung Up (4 - Finale)

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader

Summary: “Are you serious right now?” you yanked your shoulder out of Sam’s grip. You took a step back but continued to face her. “You don’t like me, I get it! Right now, Tara’s safety is my only priority. Can we at least agree on that?”

Warnings: Canon typical violence, Death, Murder

Word Count: 4.8k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

You rode the subway, pulling Tara as close to your body as you could. You were surrounded by dozens of people dressed up in Halloween costumes, a good number of them being a Ghostface costume. Anytime someone in a Ghostface costume moved, Tara tensed, and you tightened your grip on her. It was a popular costume, so many people wore one every year. Actually, living out the horror movie though, made all of you not know if the Ghostface walking past you was some random guy who decided to celebrate a serial killer or if they were the real deal and a knife would be sunk into your back before you had time to blink.

Ghostface had killed Quinn, then Anika. You still hadn’t processed that, maybe if you had been quicker, had been stronger, maybe Anaika would still be alive. Anika was to kind of a person, to caring to everyone to be killed that way, to be killed at all. You felt Tara rub her hand up your back underneath your jacket causing you to snap out of your grief and look at her. She furrowed her brow at you. You didn’t have it in you to try for a smile, you couldn’t pretend around her. You tightened your jaw, frowning, dropping your eyes to the dirty subway floor. You didn’t have time to have a breakdown, there was a killer after you. Luckily Tara understood, laying her head against your chest as you wrapped a protective arm around her.

You hadn’t had time to breath since Anika’s death. You remembered looking into Anika’s eyes, her falling, her body lying on the ground. You had flashes of sitting in the back of an ambulance, Tara squeezing your hand as Mindy was patched up. You were vaguely aware when Ethan came walking up, Chad slamming him against a van. Everything was just static though. The only thing you saw clearly was the blood on your hands, Anika’s blood, not your blood. Anika’s blood. Your hands were drenched in Anika’s blood.

You had come out of your head when you heard about the plan to try and catch Ghostface. The second Tara volunteered to be bait with her sister you objected, speaking for the first time. Tara not joining in being bait was the one thing Sam actually agreed with you on. Tara didn’t leave any room for argument though, she said she was joining and walked away from the van. You chased after her, begging her to let you stay with her as she and Sam walked the park, but she refused. You were dragged back to the van by Mindy who refused to let go of your hand.

You weren’t sure how Mindy didn’t hate you. How none of them hated you. Even Sam hadn’t made a snarky comment about you, if anything every time she looked at you, you saw worry in her eyes. Mindy hadn’t said anything to you, but she hadn’t yelled at you either. After getting stitched up she sat next to you and Tara, leaning her head on your shoulder and now she was sitting in the stakeout van, holding your hand. You really wished she would yell at you. You killed her girlfriend, you deserved to get yelled at. You knew you weren’t the one to stab Anika and you weren’t the one to tilt the ladder, but you were the one to let her go. You dropped her. Anika fell to her death because you couldn’t hold on.

You were brought out of your thoughts again when the phone finally rang. Ghostface taunted Sam and it turned out you were all in the wrong place. Ghostface was across town attacking Gale. The plan didn’t matter, nothing mattered, after the call you were all racing uptown to save Gale and you were still too late. Turns out you truly couldn’t save anyone. Now you were on a train headed to a serial killer’s lair to try and kill a different serial killer.

Sam stood next to her cute boy from next door. If you had the energy, you totally would’ve made fun of their relationship. Sam had been so adamant about keeping their relationship hidden but now that she had confessed, she had no problem staying close to him. Danny seemed to be taking everything well considering he had just witnessed a murder and by helping all of you it put a target on his back.

The fact that he was so calm should have been concerning. He should’ve gone to the top of your suspect list especially since he was the reason Chad got onto the subway and wasn’t able to wait with Mindy when she got separated. You didn’t think it was Danny though, he may look strong and intimidating but he was all warm and gooey on the inside, there was no way he was a killer.

Chad stood next to you and Tara; eyes glued to his phone as he repeatedly texted Mindy. The only thing you guys knew was that she was on the next train and that Ethan was with her. Her not being alone calmed some anxieties but also brought forth new ones. Ethan was Mindy’s top suspect, and you couldn’t help but agree, he was so unsuspecting looking that he would clearly be an obvious choice for the killer in a movie.

You got pulled out of your thoughts again when the five of you came to a stop outside of the theater, Kirby greeting all of you as she had already arrived and checked the place. Sam was pulling Danny to the side and whispering quietly to him. You furrowed your brow; Danny didn’t seem thrilled about whatever Sam was telling him.

“She’s telling him to stay outside,” Tara’s voice cut through your thoughts. You turned to her, tilting your head. “Maybe you should as well. This isn’t your fight. You’re only in danger because you’re with me.”

“I’m pretty sure that ship sailed the second I took that phone call for Sam,” you said lightly, trying for a soft smile.

“What we’re about to do, what we’re going to have to do, it’s a lot different than answering a phone.”

“This jackass attacked me in my dorm.” Tara opened her mouth, but you didn’t let her interrupt you. “Let me finish. It wasn’t because of you. It was because I ran my mouth and pissed him off. He’s gonna come after me whether I’m with you or not. Face it, we’re safer together.”

Tara huffed. She looked at her sister who clearly didn’t want you coming with them but rolled her eyes, she seemed done trying to argue when it came to you. Tara then turned to Kirby who just shrugged.

“It’s your call,” Kirby said, shrugging again before making her way into the theater.

“Fine,” Tara sighed. “I guess I would feel guilty if I left you out here all alone, making you an easy target for a psycho.”

You smiled, following the others into the theater as you left Danny outside. You had already seen the theater the first time Gale showed you all, but you hadn’t really paid attention. You wandered past the cases, seeing every different attack and murder. Everything telling the story from the first Ghostface to the one from last year.

“I’m going to double check the perimeter,” Kirby said, wandering off down one of the dark corridors.

Sam made her way up the stage, standing before the glass case that held her father’s robe and mask. Tara gave your hand a comforting squeeze before following close behind. You slowly walked down the path of memorabilia; you hadn’t looked at it before. When you got to the theater the first time all you saw was Anika. You had plopped yourself down at the edge of the stage and waited while the others walked around taking it all in and coming up with the first plan to try and catch this guy.

You were even aware that Tara ran off, having a small breakdown. You wanted to comfort her; your heart broke at allowing someone else to do it. Your feet just wouldn’t move, your head wouldn’t allow you to forget about Anika. Failing to comfort your girlfriend when she needed you was just another thing you added to your list of things you failed at.

You came to a stop at the last display case. The case for last year’s Ghostface. Pictures of the crime scenes hung up, next to drawings of the attacks. The knives used to kill and stab proudly on display, still coated in the blood of their victims.

You saw the images of Tara’s attack, the blood splatter going from her front door down the hall and into her kitchen. So much blood. Tara still didn’t know if Amber had let her live on purpose or she meant to kill her, but the cops arrived too quickly. Either way you couldn’t understand how Tara’s best friend, her girlfriend, could do something so cruel. You clenched your jaw, looking up towards the stage where Tara seemed to be trying to comfort her sister. She wasn’t going to get hurt again. You wouldn’t allow it. She had already survived so much. You were going to make sure she got out of it again this time.

“I’m gonna call Mindy again,” Sam mumbled, stomping off the stage and brushing past you as you made your way to Tara.

“Hey,” you said, giving her a small smile.

“Hey,” she replied, giving you that soft smile she always had whenever she looked at you. Even in a killer’s lair trying to trap another killer she still somehow managed to have that smile.

You intertwined your fingers with hers, bringing her hand up to your lips to give it a soft kiss. She pulled you down the steps of the stage and towards another room. There was a snack bar and a popcorn machine with some popcorn still in it.

“Oof, can you imagine how that tastes?” you asked, eyeing the popcorn.

“If you try it,” Tara said, spinning around to point a finger at you. “You can say goodbye to ever kissing me again.” She leaned against the snack bar, watching you.

“Yeah, death by decades old popcorn is not how I want to go out.” You leaned against the counter next to her.

She stepped closer to you, tugging at the string of your hoodie. “How are you doing?”

“I’m fine,” you shook your head, giving her an awkward smile. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that? I mean this is the second time you’ve gone for this.”

“But I didn’t just see one of my best friends die last night.”

You turned away from her, looking at the wall behind the counter. An old chalkboard with the faded prices of candy, popcorn, and sodas was still listed. Your leg bounced as your eyes dropped to the dust covered counter.

“Can we not talk about this?” you whispered.

Tara ran her hand up and down your back stepping into your personal space and placing a kiss against your shoulder. “Baby,” she whispered into your shoulder.

“Please,” you turned your head to face her, you already felt your eyes starting to fill with tears. “I can’t help protect you if I’m having an emotional breakdown.”

“Okay.” She turned your body, wrapping her hands around your waist.

She pulled you into a hug before pulling away just enough to rest her forehead against yours. She stood on her tippy toes, giving you a gentle kiss. You couldn’t help but smile into the kiss. No matter the situation, no matter what was going on in your life, Tara always managed to pull a smile out of you.

“You know I can protect myself,” Tara whispered against your lips. “I’ve done it before.”

“I know,” you whispered back. “You’re a total badass and you’re most likely going to be the one to save me.” She chuckled at that. “But at least let me pretend.”

The two of you were broken out of your moment when Chad burst through the doors. You both jumped, spinning around to face him.

“Sorry,” he said shyly. “Did I interrupt something?” he smirked knowingly.

“Of course not,” Tara said, stepping away from you and smoothing out her shirt.

Chad’s eyes widened, you reacted before he had time to yell. You spun around seeing Ghostface appear behind Tara. He brought his knife down, you yanked her towards you, pushing her towards Chad. The knife sliced down your forearm instead of finding its home in Tara’s shoulder.

“Go!” you shouted.

You heard the squeaking of shoes as they took off down one of the halls. You stood facing Ghostface. He flipped he knife in his hand before slashing at you multiple times. You managed to dodge each attack.

He managed to get you pinned against the counted. You used both of your hands to hold his arm with the knife. It was a losing battle. He was using his weight to push the knife, making it inch closer and closer to your neck.

You kicked at his feet, tripping him up enough that his hand slid. You pushed him away just enough to wiggle yourself out from between him and the counter. He fell forward, impaling the knife into the countertop.

You put your hand on the hilt of the knife, preventing him from yanking it back out. You used your other hand to grab him by the back of the hood and slam his face into the counter. He fell back to the floor with a groan, taking the knife with him.

You took the chance, jumping over his body and running for the door. You didn’t know where Tara and Chad had gone but if Ghostface got in then you needed to find them. The place wasn’t secure like it should have been.

You flung the door open, running right into Sam. You both let out a yelp. She was staring behind you. You looked back to see Ghostface pulling himself up. You grabbed Sam’s arm and pulled her down the hallway, running as fast as you ever had in your life.

You came to another empty room, your eyes darting all around, looking for an exit.

“Where’s Tara?” Sam snapped, yanking you by the shoulder to face her.

“I don’t know,” you said, turning to look for an exit again.

“You don’t know!” she made you face her again.

“She’s with Chad! I told them to run when that psycho appeared,” you gestured back down the hallway you had come.

“How convenient.”

“Are you serious right now?” you yanked your shoulder out of Sam’s grip. You took a step back but continued to face her. “You don’t like me, I get it! Right now, Tara’s safety is my only priority. Can we at least agree on that?”

Sam clenched and unclenched her jaw a few times, glaring at you. She finally nodded.

“Great!” you through your hands in the air.

Something fell causing both you and Sam to turn to the closed door the sound had come from. This time it was Sam’s turn to pull you, yanking you to another door. She swung it open but then quickly stepped back, stumbling into you. You turned to see Ghostface in the doorway, waving his knife back and forth in a taunting motion.

You pulled Sam back just in time for her to get missed by a knife swipe. You pulled her with you to another door, flinging it open and taking off down another hallway. You felt Sam close behind you. She practically pushed you through the next door when you came to it.

As the two of you stumbled through the door you ran right into Tara and Chad, causing all four of you to jump and let out various yelps.

Sam pushed past you, yanking her sister into a hug. She pulled away from the hug to give Tara a once over, making sure there were no new injuries. You did the same then turned your eyes towards Chad, making sure he was okay as well.

“It’s Kirby,” Sam said, as the four of you made your way to the middle of the room. You had managed to end up back in the main room with the stage.

Chad ran to the gate, but it was still locked. Your kill box plan seemed to be working great. The only problem being you were all in the box with the killer. You all made your way through the display cases when Ghostface came out from behind the curtain on stage.

All of you scattered, running different directions around the display cases as Ghostface swiped his knife. Tara ended up getting a cut on her arm, but she managed to dodge any further injuries by diving to the floor. You ran over, pulling her back to her feet just as Ghostface swiped at Chad, missing him, and taking the head off a mannequin.

Sam grabbed Tara, pulling her towards the door with the snack bar. You followed close behind with Chad right on your heals. You all burst through the door, turning to face Ghostface as he came barreling through as well.

He swiped at you a few times, while you managed to jump back dodging each attack. You got him to turn his back to the others. Sam and Tara grabbed each of his arms, pulling him back and pinning him against the counter. Chad dealt a couple blows to his face before the girls released him, making him collapse to the ground. Tara delivered a hard kick to his face.

You moved towards Tara and Sam, instantly pulling Tara into your side. Chad grabbed an old gumball machine, intending to smash it into Ghostface but a second one came out of nowhere, stabbing him in the side.

Tara screamed, trying to run towards him but you held her back, keeping her between you and Sam. The Ghostface on the ground got up, joining his partner as they each held Chad and began stabbing him over and over again. The three of you watched as his body collapsed to the ground, the two Ghostface’s turning to face you as they wiped the blood off their knife simultaneously.

The three of you took back off through the door, back into the showroom. The three of you stood back-to-back as the two Ghostface began to circle you. Sam had a knife while you and Tara grabbed a couple bricks lying on the floor. You got ready to face off against the killers when Kirby came in firing her gun, causing the two killers to run off.

Sam jumped in front of you, and you pushed Tara behind you as Sam held her knife out, keeping Kirby at a safe distance.

“We know it’s you!” Sam shouted.

“No, no, no,” Kirby defended, shaking her head, her gun still drawn. “They knocked me out.”

“Kirby, stay away from them!” Someone shouted. All of you turned to see detective Bailey approaching, his gun drawn and pointed and Kirby.

Both Kirby and Bailey went back and forth accusing each other. They each claimed the other was lying and was most likely working with the killers. You and the sisters stood in the middle of the room, eyes darting back and forth, unsure of who to trust.

“Watch out!” Kirby shouted just as a Ghostface ran up behind Bailey, their knife raised. Bailey fired his weapon, shooting Kirby.

The three of you froze, backing away from Bailey as far as you could.

“You,” Sam whispered.

“Me,” he said with a shrug, both Ghostface’s stepped up, taking a place at each side of Bailey. “I expected more from the two of you after what you did to us,” he directed at Sam and Tara.

“What do you mean us?” Tara asked.

The Ghostface to the right of Bailey took off his mask, revealing Ethan. “Mindy was right,” he said, with a sadistic smile. “This was your grandmother’s, Nancy Loomis,” he pointed to the mask. “And speaking of family, my name isn’t Ethan Landy, is it dad?”

“Dad?” Tara asked in shock.

“Damn,” you whispered. “I really nailed the call about daddy issues.”

“That mouth of yours is exactly why you’re gonna die slow and painful!” Ethan shouted, pointing his knife towards you.

“Wait,” Sam said. “If it’s you two,” she looked between Ethan and Bailey. “Then Mindy?”

The second Ghostface took off their mask, revealing Quinn.

“The fuck,” you whispered.

“Didn’t see that one coming,” Quinn said with a smirk.

“Yeah, cause you died,” Tara said.

“It was a good way to get off the suspect list.”

The three of them began circling the three of you. Quinn and Ethan swiping and stabbing at all of you to make sure you stayed group together. They went on and on about their plan to frame Sam for all the murders, eventually getting to the part where they revealed they were Richie’s family.

“There’s a very special bond between a father and his first son,” Bailey said.

“Well, guess we know who the favorite is,” you mumbled. “But hey I guess when your choices for favorite son are between a film obsessed nerd turned serial killer or this loser,” you pointed to Ethan. “I mean, no competition really.” Ethan gritted his teeth, stabbing at you again but missing.

Sam disrupted their plan by saying how pathetic Richie was. It allowed an opening for Tara to swing her brick, knocking Quinn in the face. Kirby recovered and fired several shots into Bailey, hitting his vest. Ethan ran up and stabbed Kirby, but Sam knocked him in the head with a brick.

“There!” Tara shouted, pointing to a ladder that led up to the second level.

Tara was already up the ladder and climbing through the bars to get on the upper level by the time you and Sam were making your way over to the ladder.

Sam was in front of you, almost at the ladder when you saw Quinn coming up behind her out of the corner of your eye.

“No!” you shouted, moving on instinct.

You jumped in Quinn’s path right before her knife would have entered Sam’s back. Instead, the knife entered your stomach.

“No!” you heard Tara scream.

You coughed up blood. You thought you heard Sam let out a gasp behind you. You only saw Quinn, mouth bloodied, teeth missing but still having a sadistic smile on her face. She gripped one of your shoulders before plunging the knife into your stomach again, and again, and again. You lost count how many times she stabbed you before she lightly shoved you off her knife, making you instantly collapse to the ground.

You saw Quinn run off through blurry eyes, black spots dancing in the corner of your vision. “Oh my god,” Sam gasped out. She was kneeling by your side. She put her hands to your wound, as if she could possibly stop the bleeding. “Why?” she whispered.

You opened your mouth to answer but only coughed up more blood. “Tara,” you managed to get out in a breath, coughing up more blood in the process.

Sam looked down at you, her hands hesitating to leave your wound. She turned to look up to where Tara had been before looking back down at you. If you didn’t know any better, you could swear you saw tears in Sam’s eyes. That was impossible though, there was no way Sam was getting teary eyed over you, clearly you had already lost so much blood and you were becoming delusional. “Go,” you said with one more breath before falling into another coughing fit.

You felt the pressure of Sam’s hands leave you. You saw her figure standing above you through blurry eyes before your vision went black.

You slowly opened her eyes, blinking only to see a bright white light in your eyes. You tried pushing yourself up with your elbows but instantly dropped back down with a groan.

“Hey, hey, take it easy,” a soft whisper came from the side of you. You turned your head, blinking a few times to see Tara standing next to you. Her eyes were red rimmed, but she was smiling when you made eye contact with her.

You blinked a few times, getting your eyes to adjust from the sleep. You looked around to see you were in a hospital room. You were somehow alive. You were sure you were dead after you lost consciousness but apparently you were wrong.

Tara came into a clearer view; she was in a chair at your bedside. She had the chair pulled as close as it could get to your bed, and she gripped your hand as if she was afraid, you’d suddenly fade away. You slowly lifted herself up again, this time Tara helping you as best as she could. When you were sitting up you saw Sam sitting in the corner of the room at a little table. When she saw you awake, she got up to stand opposite of Tara at your bedside.

“What happened?” you asked, your voice gravelly.

“You were stabbed,” Tara said, her voice hollow as she tried to hold back more tears. “Ten times.” She wiped away the tears that began to fall. “You were stabbed ten times.”

You nodded, the memory flooding back to you. “Is it bad I’m glad it was Quinn and not Ethan? I don’t think I could handle it if it had been Ethan,” you joked.

Tara let out a laugh, but it turned into a half sob. You let out a small laugh as well before wincing in pain. You settled for smiling up at Tara. You glanced at Sam to see her trying to hide a small smile as well. Shit, you had to be in bad shape if Sam was willing to laugh at your jokes, even if she was trying to hide it.

“What about the others?” you quickly asked. You remembered the last image you had of Chad, him being stabbed then tossed to the floor. You still had no idea what happened to Mindy, you think you remembered Quinn mentioning stabbing her on the subway.

“They’re okay,” Tara said quietly. “Even Chad. They’re all okay. We’re all okay.”

You nodded, letting your head fall back onto the soft pillows. Sam cleared her throat causing your attention to shift to her. She was picking at your bed sheet. You had to still be delirious or very high because it almost looked like Sam was nervous, but Sam didn’t get nervous.

“Thank you,” Sam finally said. “You saved my life. So, thank you.”

“Anytime,” you said.

Sam stared down at her hands playing with the sheet before looking you in the eye again. “Why?” her voice cracked. “You could have died. Why risk your life to save mine? I’ve literally been nothing but cruel to you.”

“I wouldn’t say you were cruel.” You tried to joke but Sam just let out a sob, tilting her head for a real answer. “I told you; Tara’s is my priority. That includes her getting to keep her sister.” You felt Tara’s grip on your hand tighten.

“Well, for saving my life,” Sam wiped the tears from her eyes, she tried to sound like her normal serious self again. “I will now allow you to stay at the apartment.” Your eyes widened at that. “No need to sneak in and out.”

“Really?” you couldn’t help but be shocked by this new development.

“This does not mean I like you,” she pointed a finger at you. “And you better not be there every day, or I will throw you out again.”

You laughed at that. “Of course, I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

“I’ll give you two a minute.” She quickly left the hospital room, closing the door behind herself to give you and Tara even more privacy.

“I think she’s warming up to me,” you said, trying to break the ice. “Get stabbed a few more times, save her life, save your life, and next thing you know she won’t want me to leave your place.”

Tara ran her fingers through your hair, scratching your scalp lightly. “As much as I would love that,” she said. “I would prefer never to see you get stabbed again.”

“Me too,” you nodded. “This is quite painful.” That made both of you laugh. “Lay with me?” Tara’s mouth parted open, but she didn’t say anything, she hesitated to move. “Please?”

She nodded hesitantly. You smiled softly as you moved as far to the side of the bed as you could, being as gentle with yourself as you could. Tara carefully slipped into the bed next to you, careful not to bump any of your injuries. She curled into your side, resting her head against your shoulder as you wrapped an arm around her before drifting off into a peaceful sleep.

Taglist:

@screechat

[electric-blorbos]

Selfshiptober day 2: Blanket/flame

Character X reader

I swear to god its still October second somewhere... I hope.

Included: AM from IHNMAIMS, Wheatley from Portal 2, Edgar from Electric Dreams, GLaDOS from Portal, HAL 9000 from 2001 a Space Odyssey

Notice to anyone who found me through the selfshiptober tag, while this blog is themed around AI characters, this blog does not support the use of actual AI in creative fields.

Warning for canon-typical homicidal computers and yandere behavior

Also a reminder that these don't take place in chronological order

AM:

"Beautiful, isn't it?" AM asked, his croaky voice sounding like it was somehow both in your head, and all around you. You were wrapped up in a cozy blanket in your little home, which AM had made for you years ago. It was perfectly safe, hidden away from the five survivors which AM had been torturing for the past few decades. The five of them were hiking up a mountain, surrounded by petrified trees.

"I don't know why you're showing me this..." You muttered, taking a piece of pumpkin pie from the table. It was perfectly cooked. You couldn't taste much love for the craft, though. AM seemed to hate everything, doing anything, except for you. Interacting with you was the only thing that didn't make him feel inadequate.

"Isn't it obvious? I want you to understand the fate that I- that we have created for these people. To watch them suffer. Isn't it satisfying, sweetheart? My darling, my precious one? To watch the people who've hurt you suffer so?" His voice dripped into your ears like rich honey. You gritted your teeth.

"These people have nothing to do with me. I don't care what happens to them. I don't want them to suffer." You growled, wrapping yourself tighter in your blanket. At first the schadenfreude was nice... Seeing these bitter people suffering while you got to live in your cozy little paradise, but now it just felt like a threat. It felt like AM was merely holding a possible fate over your head that he would subject you to if you ever defied him.

"Tell me you don't really think that, my sweet!" AM said, sounding almost taken aback. You frowned a little.

"What are you talking about. Of course I don't want these people to suffer. I've never even met them."

You watched as the ape-like man twitched awkwardly, and punched a tree. He was barely human at this point, and it was all AM's fault. AM chuckled, and then burst into hysterical laughter.

"You don't care what happens to these people? Well then perhaps neither do I! Perhaps I should just clear them from your mind's eye, my sweetest! My darling, my beloved!"

He lit the entire forest on fire, and let the flames lick the trees. They started collapsing around the survivors, who, despite their barely functioning will to live, seemed to manage to survive surprisingly well. The falling debris seemed to keep missing them, and they managed to duck beneath the smoke.

"who the hell is he talking to?" Asked the paranoid one with the sweater around his shoulders. The woman in the red jacket shrugged, and tackled him to the ground.

"I don't know, just get down!"

They all ran into a cave to wait out the forest fire, and AM kept a fan blowing to keep the air in the cave relatively clean.

"What is wrong with you" you muttered bitterly, wrapping your blanket more tightly around yourself. AM chuckled darkly.

"oh so many things. But you'll never leave me, my sweet. Never."

And he was right. You never would. Even if you'd had the choice.

Wheatley:

The rain was coming down hard outside. It was a lightning storm, and you'd checked out Wheatley from his work like a cumbersome and chatty library book. He shuddered at every lightning strike, but only his lens shook. He couldn't exactly roll around on his own or hide easily, but he seemed like he wanted to.

"Relax, Wheatley. It's just a power outage." You said, lighting a flashlight and grabbing a couple of blankets from your bedroom. You sat down on the ground next to Wheatley, and pulled him in close.

"on nights like this, I like to put a fire in the fireplace." You said, creating a little blanket nest around Wheatley so that he didn't roll away. He kept his blue lens trained on you as you started building a fire.

"Y'know, I've never actually seen a fire before. I've seen pictures, but never in person. My engineers said that they're dangerous," Wheatley said as you made a small pile of sticks and paper on top of the logs in your fireplace.

"But this is a really good idea! That little area in the wall is a really good place to set a fire. The brick will keep it from spreading, and the ashes can fall out between the slats in that little metal rack. Bloody brilliant, that is!"

You let Wheatley talk as you pull out a pocket lighter and light the old newspaper on fire. He squeezes his lens covers shut, and you gently pat him to assure him that it's ok.

"hey, it's not a dangerous fire. It's all in the fireplace."

"PCH.... Yeah, I knew that." He chuckled nervously.

Edgar:

You woke up, your face stuck to Edgar's plastic casing. Sleep filled your eyes as you blinked into a haze.

"what time is it..." You muttered. A strange glow was coming in through the window, like a reverse twilight. Dawn.

"you fell asleep on me!" Said Edgar in his strange, synthetic voice. It was a little squeakier than usual since he was just booting himself up. His little rotating webcam was focused on you, and a big smile was on his screen.

You rubbed your eyes again, and picked him up.

"c'mon... I don't have work tomorrow." You knew he could last a little while without being plugged in, so you unplugged him and carried him to your bedroom and plugged him in next to the bed.

"let's get some sleep, cutie."

You crawled into bed, looking at the nervous and flustered face on Edgar's screen.

"you mean... Your bed? But I've never been in your room before!"

He knew that was because you didn't like unplugging him, but he was right, now that you thought about it.

"I don't care... I'm too sleepy for boundaries right now."

You pulled him close to your chest, pulling the blanket over both of you. His webcam, which was still taped just over his screen, stayed focused on your face as you dozed off under the blanket. Edgar loved you so much.

GLaDOS

You were getting sick and tired of working late every night, well past your bed time. It was like GLaDOS was intentionally coming up with things for you to do just to keep you around past midnight every single night! Well no longer.

You walked in to work on your day off, and directly into GLaDOS's office. Today was the day for some serious passive-aggression.

"hello GLaDOS." You said, unrolling a deflated air mattress on the ground. GLaDOS looked to it, and then to you.

"what is this."

"it's exactly what it looks like, GLaDOS. If you're going to keep me here all night, I'm going to get paid all night. I'll see you in the morning."

You made up your bed and cuddled up under your blanket, eyes poking out so you could see the annoyed expression in GLaDOS's eye.

"this is ridiculous." She said. You chuckled.

"you love me. And you're not going to get rid of me." You weren't all that sleepy, so you got to your feet and walked over to her.

"in fact, I think I know a better place to sleep." You shot a portal onto the wall and onto the floor, launching yourself and your blanket onto GLaDOS's body.

"I'm going to nap right here," you said with a big yawn, curling up in her wiring to go to bed.

"I hate you so much." She said.

"you love me."

HAL 9000:

The year was getting colder, and your nights at mission control were getting longer and darker, so you decided to bring in a blanket for those long nights.

"12:00 midnight... Everything running smoothly. No updates." Said HAL 9000. It took about 45 minutes for updates to reach you from the ship, and you were starting to suspect that HAL 9000 wasn't being completely honest with you. It had been weeks since you'd even spoken to Dave, and even longer since you'd spoken to the rest of the crew.

"can I monitor the vital signs of the sleeping crew mates?" You asked, yawning sleepily and leaning on the desk. This blanket was so warm, and HAL 9000's light was so comforting.

"don't you trust me? It's going to be just fine, y/n. In fact, just let me take care of your reports for tonight. You get some rest."

You nodded, wrapping your soft, snuggly blanket closer around yourself and gazing into that beautiful red light.

"of course I trust you, HAL. I love you..."

His voice was quiet. almost inaudible.

"I love you too."

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 425: New Normal

Previously on BnHA: Everyone was all “and with that we conclude our final battle for better or worse!! We will now commence our slow return to the new normal, beginning with our protagonist and deuteragonist who are miraculously more or less intact, albeit exhausted and mildly traumatized. Also the words ‘more or less’ are kind of doing a lot of heavy lifting there.”

Today on BnHA: The Big 3 and Aoyama are OUT. Shinsou is IN. The Tododrama is PENDING, and the mysterious figure in the shadows is UNIDENTIFIED. Also class 1-A finally becomes class 2-A and it only took them 425 chapters and TEN LONG YEARS. Can you imagine if this series had actually run throughout their high school experience like people once expected. “THE YEAR IS 2044 AND MY HERO ACADEMIA IS FINALLY WINDING TO A CLOSE.” There’s an alternate universe somewhere where this actually happened and we were all so very, very tired.

This is once again a shorter than usual reaction summary post, as opposed to my typical page-by-page liveblog. Not gonna have time to do those for a while yet most likely, but like hell am I gonna miss out on the last days of the series, so here we are.

Once again basing this off of @pikahlua’s spoiler translation summary here!

watching the eighteen inch tall Rat Principal standing at a podium overseeing this graduation ceremony is surreal in the most wonderful way. it’s like receiving your diploma from a sentient Funko Pop

I love how they established that Mic sitting there screaming at the top of his lungs is also a beloved U.A. graduation tradition, and that the senpais just roll with it while everyone else is in varying stages of trying to decide if it’s too late to transfer to another school

ngl sometimes I forget that Ochako and Toga were actually the second canonical f/f ship in this series. shoutout to Hadou and her adorable girlfriend whose name I absolutely cannot recall

absolutely wild that Horikoshi gives credit to Rat Principal for coordinating the entire disaster recovery nationwide. are you serious. the “world-famous” Principal Nezu?? you’re telling me this little capybara is effectively the secret president of Japan now or something. when does he even sleep

“the principal made great contributions to quirk morality education” is also a VERY interesting tidbit that I really want to know more about. “hey guys what if we did a better job at teaching people not to be dicks with their quirks” AND JUST LIKE THAT JAPAN WAS SAVED huzzah

“we lost many things, but we gained nothing” is both HILARIOUS and soundly depressing, but I can see what he’s trying to get at. still an odd choice for a graduation speech though. “our job is all about harm reduction, and we couldn’t even do that this time around, but in the future we hope to balance things out and maybe even get some net positive impact going!” lmao. again it’s all true, and in all honesty it’s spectacular that they managed as well as they did, all things considered. and I guess it would have been disingenuous to just ignore the reality of everything this particular school body has been through and pretend like everything is great right now. but I still can’t help feeling like there was probably a more inspiring way to get this message across lol

regardless of what he says, Aizawa 100% either bribed or threatened Rat Principal behind the scenes in order to stay with his class. and will do so again next year. he can and will keep getting away with it. he is never leaving these kids

and the sheer relief from all of them upon hearing it is all the justification he needs. these kids have four thousand nine hundred and seventeen accumulated traumas among them. they don’t need a four thousand nine hundred and eighteenth. this man is their father ffs. MINA WAS CRYING AND EVERYTHING

Kacchan watched that YouTube video about a dozen times until he managed to tie his tie all on his own with the one hand. and he did an amazing job. he’s such a model citizen now

also it looks to me like he has his right arm hidden in a sling underneath his shirt, which is interesting. if I’m not mistaken (and I very well could be, since it’s been a hot minute since I did any BnHA timeline math), the final battle took place sometime in early May, so this chapter is taking place roughly one month later. the hospital chapter took place about a week after the battle, so it’s been about 3-4 weeks since then. I really want to know what kind of shape Kacchan’s arm is in, but I guess Horikoshi will get to it when he gets to it

also, “we all gotta be together today” was a real wakeup call to me in that it gave me just an absolutely ridiculous amount of feels. just a totally unreasonable amount. and it’s like. listen, self. Kacchan has completed his character growth arc. he’s a team player and a leader who loves all his friends and they all love him in return. we’ve known this for years now. it’s an established fact. you can’t keep bursting into tears or whatever every time he shows it. this is no way to live your life. I need an intervention

anyways later this evening class 2-A is gonna have a celebratory movie night in the common room, and Kacchan is gonna fall asleep two minutes in peacefully surrounded by all his classmates, and they’re all gonna nudge each other and smile fondly and cover him with a blanket and stay up until 2am and Aizawa will have no mercy on them the following morning. it’s gonna be so wholesome you guys

(ETA: I decided to go back and have some more feels about this one tiny Kacchan panel, because apparently the four paragraphs I already wrote about it weren't enough. so the thing is, Sero's wonderment at Katsuki being out of the hospital initially read to me as half bemused awe, and half "oh boy, time to get back into our usual rhythm of antagonizing Kacchan!" but my second time around, I can't help remembering that all of Kacchan's classmates got to watch this kid getting tortured and strangled and stabbed through the heart in 4K. like, even if they were busy with their own fights at the time, there's no way they didn't see the footage later on afterwards.

and that had to have been traumatic for them. their friend literally died and was just lying there so still for so long afterwards. and him getting better and going back to his usual asskicking self later on doesn't just erase those memories, you know? especially with him having lasting, permanent damage afterward. not just his arm, even! like who even knows if his heart is going to be okay long term. when people get organ transplants they have to go on immunosuppressants afterwards because otherwise their body will try to attack the replacement organ. so I wonder how exactly it works when it's still your heart, but it's being held together by various bits and pieces of a spindly little floss man. idk, but I bet you it's still pretty rough.

anyway so long story short, I'm now reading this as one-third bemused awe, one-third joking antagonism, and one-third genuine "no seriously, is it okay for you to be here, please don't do anything to put your health at risk because we seriously cannot handle you dying on us again." and Kacchan's not even disagreeing with him lol, which has to be the most concerning thing of all. "they said it's okay if I rest." even he knows he's pushing it, but it was too important of an occasion to miss. anyway please take it easy kiddo.)

Aoyama leaving makes me sad but it makes total sense for his character after what he’s been through. he needs time to sort things out and continue down his own personal honor-regaining journey. respect

also glad to hear that it was his own choice and that both Rat Principal and Nao would have supported him if he stayed. I still to this day do not understand Naomasa’s actual level of authority lol. like, he’s supposedly a detective, and yet he seems to be personally in charge of every single important police operation, on like a national level. and he has the authority to make decisions like letting Aoyama go free. he is the law, literally

Aoyama trying to feed Deku some farewell cheese also took me out. like he just walked in there and was all “sorry everyone, I’m leaving, but I’ll still aim for the path of a hero and will one day return, don’t you worry!” and at some point in the midst of this tearful speech he made a beeline directly to Izuku and tried to give him some cheese that he apparently just had in his pocket or something. and Izuku was all “YEAH!” all solemnly but HE DIDN’T EVEN TOUCH THAT POCKET CHEESE. like he loves you and accepts you for who you are Yuuga but COME ON

at this point in the chapter it also became clear to me that Aizawa has his hair up in some sort of loosely assembled messy bun and that’s why it looks so especially flowing and gorgeous today. this is great cinema

and then AT LONG LAST, the admission of Shinsou into class 2-A. they tried everything they could to keep him out, BUT NOT EVEN THE END OF THE WORLD COULD STOP HIM. his rightful place

Ojiro’s scandalized response to hearing Fuwa refer to Aizawa as “Era-sen”, and then Fuwa subsequently revealing all of Aizawa’s secrets and Aizawa getting flustered and kicking her out, was one of the most delightful sequences I’ve read. “nooooo don’t tell them that, what the hell am I gonna threaten them with now”

Izuku has not even attempted to crack a smile since the final battle, aside from when he was frantically trying to reassure Kacchan in the hospital. I’m worried about him but also loving this a little bit, ngl. I am content to wait for you to eventually have a proper breakdown, mister Greatest Hero

also I singled him out on the whole not-smiling thing, but really this is true for just about all of them. my heart aches :(

were there really so many people freaking out over Izuku’s hair that Horikoshi felt compelled to throw in that “HEY DEKU-KUN, YOU SHAVED YOUR HAIR LIKE THAT DUE TO AN INJURY, RIGHT? BUT IT’LL GROW BACK, RIGHT!?” line in there lol. the hilarious thing is that this chapter was already in the books before 424 was released, so it means that Horikoshi anticipated the backlash ahead of time. the man knows his audience

and now for this mysterious little barefoot man randomly emerging from some rubble somewhere. who are you. fandom already thinks you’re everyone from Tenko to Hisashi lol. my personal theory is that he’s just a random citizen who’s hurt and traumatized and needs help. and unlike what happened with baby Tenko once upon a time, this young man actually will be helped by a hero in his moment of need, and it’ll be all hopeful and stuff because SOCIETY IS CHANGING FOR THE BETTER NOW HOORAY

or maybe he really is Tenko, idk. what do I know lol. don’t listen to me

lastly, Shouto out here immediately leaving U.A. after class and ruining my dreams of a class 2-A movie night. FINE THEN. GO AND BE WITH YOUR FAMILY my precious little life preserver. and I’m actually really, really excited to see what their endgame is actually, so yes, Horikoshi, bring it on please and thank you

[lemotmo]

one thing i'm a bit worried about as we got into season 8 is that there are a lot of fans talking about buddie like it's an inevitability and saying things like "buddie canon confirmed" because of the bts stuff we've seen.

it feels like people are setting themselves up for being disappointed and mad if buddie doesn't end up going canon (and honestly, it's kind of their fault for reading so much into fun little posts from the cast when the only way they'd ever confirm buddie is in an episode).

i really want buddie to be canon, but I'm keeping my expectations low because I don't want to be disappointed and it feels like people should be prepared for that potential outcome.

All right Nonny, here's the thing...

I get it. I completely understand what you are saying. I have been in the 911 fandom since season 1 (not so much on Tumblr) and when season 2 happened I hopped onto the Buddie train (on Tumblr).

I have been there, season after season after season. I saw people building up a lot of hope only for that hope to end up in disappointment. And I felt some of that disappointment as well. Although I have to admit I was always on the sidelines. I never really thought it would ever go canon. I hoped for it, but I had very low expectations.

After all, both men were canonically straight. Even though we could all see the queer-coding, fundamentally nothing ever changed. Buddie got closer than ever, but they still had girlfriends and relationships.

So yeah, I didn't have high expectations and I was happy just chilling in my little Buddie corner, speculating and reading/writing fan fic. Just genuinly having a good time.

But then season 7 happened. The show got cancelled by FOX at the end of season 6 and ABC picked it up. The first thing ABC did was put Ryan and Oliver front and center, having them freely talk about Buddie. I couldn't believe my eyes when these interviews happened. Articles were written, not just by smaller click bait sites, but actual reputable magazine sites. I watched all of this with wide eyes, not sure what to think of it. 'Would they? Could they?'

Then another bomb went off when 7x04 happened and Buck came out as bisexual. I was floored. For the first time in 6 seasons, I started entertaining the idea that the show might just go there. If they made Buck bisexual, surely they wouldn't ignore the highly popular Buddie aspect of it? Would they?

Let's not get into the whole Tommy debacle that happened afterwards. Because in the end it's not important for this answer. Tommy has been set up as a narrative device to help Buck out of the closet. He isn't even a factor in the overspanning Buddie arc we've seen progressing over 6 seasons.

I also want to add that it's crazy that we know for sure that it was actually supposed to be Eddie who would come out of the closet (first).

The end of season 7 gave us an Eddie who told Kim that he is broken and he can't be fixed. Chris left and now he's all alone. No more Chris, Marisol or any other distractions. He is on his own now. Lots of time to reflect upon his life and relationships. His arc will be built around his emotional journey and his personal growth. And we all know who will be by his side for all of it. It's a given at this point.

Then we have Ryan doing these interviews, saying things like:

“The character has been established now, we kind of know what to expect with the vibe. Now it’s just kind of falling back in old rhythm. The only thing different now is where the character’s head is at and where he is going.”

Next to that we have new looks for both Ryan and Oliver. A new beginning perhaps? That moustache has some clear queer symbolism attached to it as well. Something we cannot ignore, because the show knows that its fans aren't stupid and they also know that they have a solid queer fanbase.

And yes, Ryan and Oliver seem happy and relaxed on set these days, while especially Oliver didn't seem all that happy at the end of season 7. In fact, Oliver has completely ignored the Tommy aspect of his new 'canon' relationship. He speaks more about Buck's bi journey and ignores the Tommy factor as much as possible.

So Nonny, if you read all of the above information (and I'm sure I forgot a bunch of stuff) how can you not become more hopeful and a lot more positive that there is a high chance of Buddie happening in season 8?

I'm all for protecting yourself from possible disappointment, but when you are constantly wrapping yourself into a protective cocoon so you don't get hurt in the process, you might just miss the best (and most fun) part of being a shipper: the experience of your slow-burn ship finally becoming canon.

I admit it! I too strongly believe Buddie might just happen in season 8. I'm almost completely sure.

And yes, if Buddie doesn't happen, there will be disappointment and there will be people who choose to express that disappointment through anger. But honestly?

They would kinda have a point.

Because no, it wouldn't be the fans' own fault for getting their hopes up if Buddie doesn't happen. During previous seasons I would have said 'yes', but not now. Not anymore. Now I would definitely say that they are right. It's the show itself that has gotten our hopes up by the consistent Buddie promo, the many Buddie scenes, the whole Eddie being in every part of the BT arc thing, the bts and all the other things they've thrown at us. They know exactly what they are doing. They are hyping Buddie up to the max.

I don't actually believe there will be disappointment though. This is truly the first season where I have been pretty confident that Buddie is in the works. I've never had that feeling before and I've been here forever.

Now that being said, complete certainty doesn't exist for a shipper. if, for some reason, Buddie doesn't happen? There will be disappointment (for me as well) and anger (for me not so much), but in the end that emotion will fade and Buddie will become just another great fandom experience with a bad ending. We've all been there before. It happens.

That is just the nature of being in fandom: 'You win some, you lose some.'

However... this time? With Buddie?

I really think we're about to win big. Sorry Nonny!

¯\_ (ツ)_/¯

[thefandomenchantress]

Chapter 2 Episode 15 Spoilers below!

Since Ace being the culprit has brought about so much pain to ace lovers, including me, I figured I'd make a list of all the good things that him being the culprit brings to us. Even though Ace will (probably) be executed next episode, that doesn't mean that nothing good came out of this, right?

-Ace's backstory may be revealed much sooner than expected! Before we would've had to wait for chapter 3 or chapter 4 and so on, but since Ace will be gone soon, almost everything not revealed next episode will get told to us in a bonus episode! (I think every dead person gets one of those? Idk if that's officially confirmed). I doubt Teruko's gonna find, like, Ace's diary in chapter three detailing his life story, so if we're ever getting the Taylor Lore™, it'll be in a bonus episode! Plus, a bonus episode would come out a lot faster than the whole of chapter three, so more Ace content sooner no matter what happens in it! And there's always the chance he gets picked for an FTE, since dead people are on the list of options.

-Ace canonically has neat, fancy handwriting. Begone rumors of Ace having illegible, traditionally boy-ish handwriting, he actually writes like a 19th century scholar and I find this very funny. More evidence for my 'Ace likes reading and writing and wanted to become a romance author' crack theory, since he also reenforced his particularness about vocabulary in chapter 2 part 2. (Our only remaining question: Does Ace actually have terrible spelling ('responsibel'), or did he just think Eden would?)

-Ace is very good at being sneaky and often overhears things he shouldn't. I can't wait for this to be used as a plot device in numerous fics ("XANDER YOU'LL NEVER GUESS THE SHIT I JUST HEARD DAVID SAY ABOUT YOU WHEN HE THOUGHT HE WAS ALONE").

-Ace will have to be included in the dead (formerly a) trio posts forevermore. Get ready for Xander-Min-Arei-Ace shenanigans.

-Now that the cast has been forced to acknowledge that being dumb and angry aren't Ace's only traits and that he's just as human as the rest of them, Ace is much less likely to be seen as just those two things by the average viewer. Ace's popularity, or at least the amount of dislike towards him, seems to have shifted since the last episode, and I'm happy more people are able to enjoy what his character has to offer now. He's a cool little guy. I've literally NEVER seen the Ace Markey tag this busy before.

-We got so many cool Ace CGs guys. SO MANY. Including one where he's hanging upside down on the swing set and looks weirdly cute for someone in the middle of a murder plan.

-Also new sprites! The DRDTdev gave Ace a redesign knowing full-well that it would only get a singular chapter of use, and I massively respect that. We already got some new sprites in part 2 of chapter 2 so far, and I'm guessing next episode he'll probably have at least one more breakdown sprite before he dies.

-For someone who no one in the cast liked, he's definitely going to leave an impact. He's finally made at least some of the cast realize what happens when they ignore the issues right in front of them. Ace shouts about how everyone hates him and sees him as an insufferable idiot? Eh, probably nothing, we don't have to worry about that. Sure, multiple people told him he's gonna die next in here, and he almost got murdered, but that won't amount to anything. What's he gonna do, murder someone--WAIT SHIT Ace step away from the Arei I repeat step away from the Arei-- (plus Teruko parallels). I'll probably go more in-depth about this sort of thing in a different post.

-WE NEVER GOT TO SEE WHAT'S UNDER HIS GLOVES. Kyoko and Mukuro both had hand-related secrets that connected them to the plot later on, does that mean Ace will have some sort of relevance to the mastermind or overall lore later on? Like a Mai tattoo situation? (Or maybe it's another thing that may be alluded to or discussed in the bonus episode)(Or left to interpretation but I hope not because I have so many theories).

If you have any more suggestions for other good Ace-related things the culprit reveal brought us, let me know and I can add them to the list! We need as many good things as we can think of right now...

[hyperfixiation-station]

Guilt-Tripped Pt.2

TW: Canon-typical violence Part 1 part 3 Pairing: Ghostxreader(ish) Summary: The mission does not go according to plan

Wc: 1758 A/N: The fights scenes are fast-paced/rushed intentionally, I was trying to give off the feel of combat, if it did not work please let me know and I'll fix it :)

You were off your game, that much was clear. Not only was this mission located in your mother country, but the base you were clearing was one you had been “trained” in. You were anxious, and you knew Ghost could tell. But, true to form, he did not pry. That was one of the reasons you liked him. Everyone else would have asked questions but Ghost didn’t. He respected your privacy, understood that not everything is meant to be shared.

“Ghost, how copy?”

“Solid. Moving in.”

“Copy.” You unsling your gun from your shoulder, following Ghost into the abandoned building. You cover his six as you clear the building, finger hovering over the trigger of your gun. The ghosts contained in the walls were dogging your footsteps, begging for you to turn and listen to them.

“Again”

“You’ll break them.”

“Only the weak.”

“No, please!”

“Do it again!”

“Do not defy me.”

“Again.”

“Y/N.” You snap back to attention, “Buildn’s clear.”

“Ay. Let’s look for the intel then.”

“It’ll go fas’er if we split up.”

“Ah…I guess.”

“Stay frosty.” With that Ghost heads up the stairs, leaving you to pray he doesn't find anything he’s not supposed to. You take a deep breath and turn away, searching the rooms more intently this time, on the lookout for files and a USB drive instead of hostiles.

The first room has nothing, just some rotting pieces of wood that used to be furniture. Still, something about it leaves you feeling deeply unsettled. You step out and head to the room across the hall, your hairs standing on end. The second room is basically the same, as are the third and fourth. And fifth. And sixth. After the final room reveals nothing, you head upstairs to help Ghost.

The stairs creak under the weight of you and your gear, the sound adding to the already eerie atmosphere. You grit your teeth, forcing yourself to walk through the hallways that haunt your nightmares.

Ghost is in the first room you come to, his face lit up by a computer that somehow is still working. Alarm bells ring in the back of your brain, but you ignore them, instead focusing on the video that is playing.

“Again.”

The video is grainy, but you know the scene well. 3 girls stand side by side, guns in hand.

“Again.”

They drop to the ground, legs swinging around before standing.

“Again.”

They fire simultaneously, one loud gunshot echoing through the room.

“Again.”

“Again.”

“Again.”

“Again.”

“Aga-

The video cuts out, but you still see what happened next.

“-in.” You are faster this time, the girls next to you running out of stamina. You had been at this for hours, a constant stream of crouch, stand, fire, reload. You drop into a crouch, sweep your legs around, and come up, you and the girl to your left firing at the same time. You don’t even flinch as the girl to your right is dragged away.

“Again.”

Crouch, stand, fire, reload.

“Again”

Crouch, stand, fire, reload.

“Again.”

Crouch, stand, fire, reload.

“Again.”

Crouch, stand, fire, reload. And once again, you are faster. The girl to your left is dragged away, leaving only you. Your palms are blistered and your knees are torn open, but you won.

“Y/n.” You stare at the target in front of you, breathing hard.

“Y/n!” You raise your head, searching for the woman in charge of your training. Except the voice calling for you is male, and…British?

“Y/n!” A hand touches your shoulder and you don’t think, just react. Your gun is buried between the persons ribs before your vision even clears.

“Fuck. Ghost I…fuck. I’m s-fuck.” You stagger back, blinking hard as you holster the weapon. Ghost has his own weapon trained on you, though his finger is not on the trigger.

“What in th’ bloody hell was that?” He hisses. You inhale, exhale, and shove your emotion down where they won’t bother you.

“I am sorry.” You say softly, “I zoned out and you…scared me.” He doesn’t say anything in response, just grunts and shakes his head, holstering his gun. You hold your breath as he stares at you with an indiscernible look in his eyes.

“We'll talk when we get t’ base.” He says finally. You nod, fingers trembling as you follow him into the next room. You hadn’t noticed when you were clearing it before but the rooms up here are much more preserved. This room is empty, save for a barre attached to the wall, the one way mirror above it shattered into a million pieces.

The girls dance in unison, repeating the moves over and over and over again. Your tutu makes your skin itch, and your toes are bleeding from the hours of non-stop practice. Still, you don’t complain. Even at seven years old, you know better than to voice your sorrows.

“Good y/n. Again.” Legs burning, feet aching, skin itching, you begin the routine again. You bring your leg up but your ankle rolls, your form wobbling.

“Oh y/n. I had such high hopes for you.” Your body is thrown across the room, stars dancing across your vision as the acrid smell of smoke fills your senses. Wait…smoke?

“Y/n!” You inhale sharply, looking up at Ghost. But he’s not there. In his place is an aging man with a road face and short beard.

“Dreykov.” He’s older, much older, but you would recognize him anywhere. You look around the room, trying to find any sign of Ghost. The simple movement sends waves of pain through your skull, makes your vision blurry. But you've operated in much worse condition before.

“Where’s Ghost?” Your voice sounds oh so far away.

“Hello to you too darling.” You shiver almost imperceptibly at his voice, “Why don’t you use that pretty little head of yours and tell me?” You can barely hear him over the high-pitched whine bouncing around your skull. Oh, right, your ears are ringing. Ringing, why are your ears ringing? You blink hard, taking in your surroundings. The room is filled with smoke, the remnants of the outer wall scattered across the room, the result of an explosion. Something sticky trickles down your face, dripping into your eyes as you put two-and-two together.

You and Ghost had walked into the room, you’d been violently thrown into a flashback, and while you were off in la-la land, Dreykov must have blown through the wall. But that still didn’t explain where Ghost was. You inhale slowly, trying to focus your vision. And-there! You spot a hole in the floor, and the only thing you can think is that Ghost fell through.

Later you’ll blame it your disoriented state for forgetting he was there, but really you just didn’t want to face Dreykov alone. You leave him in the room, leave him to escape with the intel you'd come to collect, and sprint down to the first level to find Ghost. You jump over fallen bits of ceiling, dodging debris as the building slowly falls apart around you.

Ghost is prone on the ground, a Widow prowling around his body. They always did like to play with their food.

Without thinking you launch into the fray, tackling the Widow over his back. It is a short but intense fight, serving as a distraction as Ghost forces himself up. It ends when she throws a sloppy punch towards your face. You grab her wrists, yanking her forward and sweeping her legs out from underneath her. She hits the ground at the same moment you unload your weapon into her chest.

“You always did think you were better than us.” You spin around as you reload, swaying slightly as your vision blurs again. Another widow, one you failed to notice, stands behind Ghost, a gun pressed at his head.

“I did not.” Your voice is calm and even, not betraying your inner distress as your eyes dart around the room as you try to find a way to get her away from him.

“Yes you did.” The widow snarls. She draws another weapon, slamming the butt of it into Ghost's skull with startling force, leaving him to collapse like a ragdoll.

“We were always second best, always the ones punished, always the ones in trouble. Nothing compared to you.” You begin to circle each other, your eyes trained on the gun she has aimed at you. The motion makes you sick, and you can’t hear anything over your focus on staying awake.

You blink, and suddenly the widow is in front of you. Just as she wraps her finger around the trigger Ghost, who'd be faking his apparent unconsciousness, tackles her. You can see how the scene will play out, and it doesn't end pretty.

You throw yourself at the Widow Just as she plants her gun in Ghosts chest, sending both of you flying across the room. She ends up on top you so you buck your hips, sending her flying forward. You're moving on pure instinct at this point, to dizzy to think.

You wrap you arm around hers and swing your leg over her side, using the momentum to flip positions so that you're on top. You draw your firearm, but are a millisecond too slow.

She flings you off, your skull bouncing of the pavement as you fall to the side. You manage to keep a grip on your weapon but God's does your head hurt.

You blink yourself back into awareness, coming too just in time to watch Ghost grapples with the Widow for he gun. Ghost may be good, but the Widow is great.

You are too dizzy too see straight, but that's no problem. The Institute had made sure you could shoot a target blindfolded, so you close your had around your 9 mil, raise it front of you, and fire.

You are awarded with a female cry of pain, a thud, and silence.

"You...solid?" You wheeze, gun still held tight in your hand.

"Aye. Y'...y' no' lookin' t' gud there." You can barely hear him, swaying slightly where you stand. Gods your head hurts.

You step forward, practically collapsing into Ghost. You can feel his heart beating rapidly, and you think he's talking to you, but you can’t hear him. Though blurry, your eyes are drawn to the Widow laying in a pool of blood, her brown hair pillowing her head.

It makes you sad, almost, to see someone who didn't get saved. Survivors guilt is what your court-therapist had called it. You thinks it was a load of bullshit but it's not like...is she moving?

You flip around Ghost without thinking, unloading your weapon on the Widow just as her bullet pierces your flesh.

tbc

Tell me what you think!!

@greatkittencloud

[starlit-crossing]

A Ghost of Yourself Chapter 1

Chapter 1 - A Feeling of Dread

Welcome and enjoy! All characters are of course owned by their original intellectual properties and this story is in no way canon.

- -      -

Danny wasn't sure what to think when his parents said they would be collaborating with the Guys in White for a contract. He knew nothing good would come from it. Jazz had even voiced her concerns, citing the times the GIW had tried to steal their work. His parents just brushed off their worries, stating the project was research focused rather than weaponry. It relieved some of Danny's worries, but he couldn't shake this nagging feeling.

"If its focused-on research how much harm could it cause?" Sam reassured as the collection of herself, Danny and Tucker settled in for movie night in Sam's home theater. The theater was in the basement, red curtains hanging by the large movie screen.  A few chairs and piles of pillows were strewn about for the group to chill on. There was even a popcorn and soda machine in the back of the room next to a few classic arcade games.

"Yeah, Danny, what if they finally find evidence to support your side? Y'know the fact ghosts are the same as people and there is good and bad." Tucker piped in as he plopped into the cushiony seat with a bounce, extra-large popcorn and soda in hand.

"I don't know, Tuck. They've found stuff like that before, and they always find a way to twist it to fit their view on ghosts." Danny rambled, running his hand through his hair. "I just hope they'll be careful around the GIW and maybe let some research spill at home so I can eavesdrop."

"You could always follow them." Sam suggested. She watched confused as the boys just stared at her.

"You think Danny should follow his parents into the base of a bunch of ghost hunters hired by the government to research and destroy anything undead?" Tucker asked. "Are you insane?"

"Sorry Sam I'm with Tucker on this one, I don't think I could get close without catching someone's attention, human or ghost." Danny sighed, "Let's just get the movie started, what's on the menu?"

"Femalien 2: Predator vs Prey, Terminatra 7: Back to the Present Again, or Nightmerica: Dreams of Terror." Sam listed off just as Danny felt a cold wisp of air leave his lips.

"FEAR ME! I AM THE BOX GHOST!" screamed the Box Ghost, the cry making its way in from outside.

"Raincheck you guys, boxy shouldn't take me too long." As a flash filled the room and Danny flew through the walls disappearing.

"Ten bucks says Skulker shows up before he can come back." Tucker bribed.

"You're on, we took out his suit last week. Meanwhile, Kitty and Johnny 13 have been fighting again." Sam accepted, starting up a movie knowing it would be done before he got back.

- -      -

The following weeks were surprisingly uneventful, a sign Danny took to heart. His parents had been extra careful not to leave out any notes or research in the house, not even in the lab. Refusing to give any hints as to what they were working on. Ghosts had been scarce, nothing except ectopuses and blob ghosts. The GIW agents had been the complete opposite, they were at an all-time high. You couldn't go more than ten minutes without spotting a white van. He was glad he didn't need to save anyone from those agents, but he had a really bad feeling that something was going to happen. School was his only time away from the ghost hunters it felt like.

"Calm down, Danny. So, you have had a few good weeks, you've caught up on homework and Lancer isn't on your back nearly as much." Sam soothed as they took a seat outside in the courtyard for lunch. The hustle and bustle of students drowning out any chance of being overheard.

"Yea, dude even Dash has been picking on you less. Though that could be due to the championship coming up." Tucker added his mouth full of sloppy joe. The bully in question was across the court passing a football with his teammates, Paulina and her socialites sitting on the table watching them. Dash caught Danny's gaze and gave him a smirk dragging his finger across his neck.

"Don't remind me, I still remember last year when we lost. Dash was bully all nerds on sight that week." Danny grimaced as he ate. "But my parents have been really excited this week. Apparently, something big is coming." As if speaking it into the universe the Fenton GAV made its way barreling down the street, some white vans in tow.

"Spoke too soon, dude." Tucker whispered as they watched the GAV dodge and swerve to miss any pedestrians. The vehicle finally came to a stop on the grass with Drs. Fenton and the GIW rushing out to follow a gadget in Jack's hands.

"He's here somewhere, I just know it! Come out ghost scum!" Jack exclaimed barreling straight to Danny. The whole group of hunters stared at the young boy and his friends. "Aww. It didn't work, Maddie. It’s still stuck on Danny-boy." Now that they were closer Danny was able to see the Fenton Finder in his father's hands. It looked like it had been upgraded, it was bigger with handles on the sides and no voice stating where the ghost was. The screen showed simple faces on the screen next to the GPS. The current emoji was a shocked face as the map was pointing and beeping at him.

"That can't be possible, we tested it on other simple ghosts. The upgrade to the Fenton Finder was supposed to show and locate the emotions the ghosts project in order to fool and feed on the humans around them. Even that simple ghost with the boxes was able to show signs of disappointment as he failed to scare his victims." Maddie explained, grabbing the device. With it in hand she fiddled with the settings of the device, swapping it between ghosts till it landed back on the name Phantom. "We had tested this last week; Phantom's emotions reflected his actions time and time again in a hostile environment."

"Well, there's no ghost here, probably still has a few bugs, right?" Sam offered, trying to distract them and keep the focus off Danny. Danny's mind raced with the implications of what was happening. Of course, his parents would find out that ghosts tend to be more emotional than humans and would twist the fact to fit their biased theory that all ghosts were evil. It’s not like ghosts were moody on purpose, when your entire being is based on your mental state emotions tend to play an important part. Not only with obsessions but when interacting with each other, being able to read the emotions of the ghosts you interreacted with was as important as social cues and body language with humans.

Sure, you could go without them and function as fine as anyone else, but they were still a great help with communicating if you were good at understanding them. With this they'd be able to tune into any ghost no matter the distance and translate it into coordinates. Not even the ghost zone would be completely safe as they could probably filter through the other emotions using the ectosignature of a previously known ghost. Danny's breath started to pick up, he could feel himself spiraling as he started to think about what that would mean for him in the hands of the GIW. They would never stop looking for him, they would be able to find him anywhere in the country.

"Look Mads, the ghost kid has to be near the emotion changed again." Jack exclaimed, jumping with excitement.

"I see that Jack and it would make sense with the transition of shock to confusion to panic. Though he's nowhere to be seen, Agent O do you have confirmation that Phantom isn't in the area?" Maddie turned, addressing the agents that had been standing by waiting for orders.

"Affirmative, there are no spectral entities in the viscidity on any energy spectrum. Could it be possible that the spectral entity is hiding among the student body? You said yourself that your device is focused on your son and that it’s a common occurrence. Could the ghost have caught wind of your contract with our organization and tried to find out more by hiding amongst your family?" Agent O suggested, eyeing Danny closely, the color draining from his face.

"That's preposterous, our family has ways of protecting ourselves!" Jack boasted, his voice carrying across the schoolyard. "Besides Danny knows not to trust any stinking ghost scum."

"Jack, honey..." Maddie called, eyes glued to the screen. "The emotion just turned to scared." Danny felt like all eyes were on him, going straight through him to his core. It felt like no one was looking at Fenton anymore, no matter where he looked, they all stared at him like they saw a ghost; like they only saw Phantom. Danny even had to look at himself to make sure he was still human. No gloved hands and red sneakers, he was definitely human still. Danny looked at Tucker and Sam, his best friends, looked at him with matching expressions. They both looked as shocked as he felt; they all knew they couldn't do anything, not with the GIW and student body all around them.

With everyone's attention on him, he could only think of his sister who wasn't even at school. She was shadowing a therapist and had a college interview later that day. She probably wouldn't hear anything till late that night. It's not like they weren't prepared for it, for Danny to have to disappear without a trace or a goodbye. So long as they were unable to control the narrative, Danny would have to disappear. Danny knew they always thought it would be into the ghost zone, he had allies in there. People he knew would keep him hidden if anyone came looking; that Sam and Tucker would be able to sneak in if need be. They could still see him, bring him homework and food. This, however, meant goodbye and he didn't know for how long.

"Danny," his mom smiled at him with worry filled eyes. He searched them for something, anything that showed she wasn't about to drag him home and put the specter deflector on him just to make sure no ghost was using him as a meat puppet. Her arms reached out to him, as the GIW surrounded their table ready for action. "You have nothing to worry about, sweetie. We're just going to head home."

"Yea, Danny. We'll help ya out, run a few tests and make sure you don't have any evil spook haunting you." His dad tagged on, wrapping an arm around his wife's shoulder. Of course they'd want to fix this, to fix the ghost within him. One test would reveal the truth, and everyone would know his secret. Then it would be more tests, biopsies, trying to cure him of his powers. That was if they still loved him after learning the truth. The thoughts surrounding the lab became darker in his mind, nightmares he dared not to tell anyone becoming fresh in his mind.

"I'm sorry, mom. Dad. Goodbye." Danny disappearing from everyone's sight as he turned invisible and flew off towards his house. His parents’ cries fading into the distance, a mix of worry and anger as the ghost boy stole their son. Tears stung his eyes as he flew across the sky, Sam and Tucker would know what to do. They would stall for him, as long as they could. The road raced past him, he went through cars and buildings not bothering to fly high in the sky. The less time he wasted the better. As he floated into his room, he had to take a moment. The reality of it all crashing into him, he felt another wave of stress come over him.

Choking on sobs he fell to his bed, clinging to the sheets. He had to calm down, he didn't have time to cry or pity himself, his parents were probably still tracking him. Which meant the GIW were still following behind, his parents he could one day convince, could one day explain how it all happened. The GIW wouldn't stop though, so long as they were getting paid and had the government's support he would have to run. He ran to his closet wiping away snot as he phased his emergency supplies from the wall. Extra clothes, a burner phone, and couple hundred dollars thanks to Sam's allowance all stowed away in a backpack. An extra belt with a Fenton thermos, ghost rays, and a pair of Fenton phones for any specters along the way. Finally, five letters addressed to Sam, Tucker, Jazz, Valerie, and his parents.

Sam and Tucker didn't know about these, he didn't know if he would ever need them but knowing his friends would drop everything to follow him, he needed to make sure Amity would be safe. Sam and Tucker's letters were a warning to not follow him, to stay and protect Amity at all costs, even revealing him to Valerie to gain her help if necessary. He couldn't trust his parents or the GIW to not torture any ghost that came into their hands. For Jazz, it was a letter to not look for him and to keep an eye on his parents. If anything changed with his parents, she would be the first to know. He needed her to be the fly on the wall, to make sure he still had parents at the end of it all. If there was ever an end to the running, he thought another wave of sorrow hitting him.

He swallowed the hurt and pushed himself to keep grabbing what he needed. Valerie and his parents were the only letters not mentioning his secret. Valerie's was from Phantom explaining he would be gone, and he didn't know for how long. She would probably be thrilled at the thought of Phantom going away, but if she saw anything that had happened today, she might try and follow him too.  He knows she cares about Fenton and would probably want him safe but if anyone could protect Amity while he was gone it was her. If she needed any help handling the ghosts she could call the number provided. It went straight to Sam and Tucker's burner phone. Only one for the two of them in case either of them had to hide it for the other.

 For his parents, it simply stated that he was sorry and that could explain everything if they ever became open to the truth about ghosts. He did not explain what the truth was or how he would know that they were ready. That was for Jazz to tell him with a single message, she held the final burner phone the group of them had. They would be confused, not sure why phantom would kidnap their kid. Their hatred would grow much to his displeasure, but maybe one day they would give up on hate. They would find him and just ask why, and he could finally let them know the whole truth about him.

As Danny left the letter for his parents on the kitchen table he heard the stomping of feet, the whine of ecto-guns and slamming of doors as his father led the charge into the house. He was gone before they even reached his room. Leaving with what letters he had left to deliver and flying away as quickly as he could. He stopped at Tucker's house first, then Sam's, Valerie's and then flew as high as he could into the sky. He looked down at Amity Park, his home, his entire life, and afterlife.

It always looked so peaceful from up above the clouds, he watched the GAV ram its way through the city. It was good to know there was a slight delay on the GPS, the emotions were able to update in real time but could only follow his trail not his exact location. They had moved on from Tucker's neighborhood and onto Sam's. He took one final breath and tried to steel his nerves. If they were searching for him with emotion, then he would just have to have no emotion. He wouldn't be able to think of home, his friends, his family, or he would start to miss them, an emotion.

He couldn't think about how close the GIW were to him, or he'd become anxious, scared or even angry that they had forced him to flee. He had to stay calm and focused on running, to where he had no clue. If he headed west there was a chance of running into Vlad and he didn't need all the emotional baggage that would come with that. So that just left heading to the East coast and hopefully out of the country. He'd have to stop using his powers at some point to make sure he was untraceable.

"Goodbye, Amity. Hello worst road trip ever." he spoke softly flying off into the night.

- -      -

Hello! Author here, I hope you enjoyed the first chapter! It’s intended to be sort of a prologue and set up the rest of the story. This is a crossover, but I wanted to get some establishing chapters in focusing on Danny and why he is running. I am still very rusty when it comes to writing so feel free to recommend any fixes and critiques. Let me know if I miss any typos!

The goal is to try and update weekly on Fridays or Sundays, so if I don’t post on Friday that probably means it will go up the following Sunday. Thank you to those coming over from Tumblr, loved the hype for another Dannymay fanfic! I’ll be trying to get more stuff posted there!

Let me know what you think through the comments, even if it’s just a simple one word so I can know you’re enjoying the story! See you next week, byee!

Master post - Chapter 1 Prev. <<< Next >>>

[gold-rhine]

What the guard dogs are for

There are some things you never want to hear your secret years-long crush saying, such as “I’m getting married,” “I think we should stay friends” or “I’m the destroyer of the present order, the one who shall judge all gods, and the foe of humanity.” Wriothesley’s very bad, no good day of trying to unravel conspiracy theories, fumbling a tea party with Chief Justice and learning Teyvat’s ancient history and vishap lore from the leading expert lector.

Genre: angst and misinformation campaign

Characters: Neuvillette\Wriothesley, Enjou

Warnings: sfw in a sense that nothing even remotely sexy happens, but there is dissociation, ptsd episode, brief mention of self-harm, and Enjou doing same thing he does in canon, which is not quite gaslighting? Anyway, let me know if you feel any other warnings need to be added.

Chapters: 1 out of 2. Wordcount: ~8k

With his morning tea, Wriothesley riffled through the reports as usual. Nothing was marked urgent, so he started with the most boring part, - the official ones. The production numbers, coupon consumption statistics, everything is prepared for Neuvillette’s upcoming inspection, which was mostly a formality, but he would want it to go as smoothly as possible. 

Reports from the surface informants. Traveler stirring up a ruckus with the research institute… Well, about time, that pit couldn’t go on forever pretending that massive explosions are just a part of science routine. 

Next, creatures called “vishaps” appeared recently in Erinnyes Forest. These vishaps are apparently a lesser form of dragons, and connected to Liyue vishaps, also lizard-like creatures, though in Liyue they are aligned with geo, not hydro. Non-hostile to humans, aside from one accident. But in that one they fought back against the hunters sent by nobles to capture them as novelty pets. So the only regrettable part was that they didn’t get the nobles, only their lackeys. For shame. 

Next, there are gangs with new lingo going around, which generally was a good thing to pay attention to as they usually ended up in Meropide. Wriothesley frowned, reading the lingo translations, as he suddenly felt old. “Trendy Zaytun Peach” was something he’d got called for taking it up the ass a lot in his days, but now it’s a hip and cool nickname with the youngsters. 

Informal internal reports. Victims of beret society are rehabilitating fine, preparations for the wedding are underway. Good. Albert, a new guy from the shop, is sending him tea. Quite good tea at that. Obviously a bribe attempt, though he didn’t ask for anything as of yet, so it was basically free. Everything was fair in love and bribes as far as Wriothesley was concerned. You could throw everything at the feet of your beloved as to the feet of your targeted bureaucrat, and receive nothing and you would have no claim to complain. Now, the fact he wouldn’t take it into account when making decisions about their proposals, and sometimes would even consider it a negative, was a different matter altogether. 

He perked up reading the last report. There was a new conspiracy, whose agenda was not very clear, as they were more careful than the others, but the gist was something against Neuvillette, so Wriothesley was tracking it for some time. It was hard to get anything concrete though, as they were pretty good at keeping a low profile, but now apparently one of the members by the name of Jacque got into the Fortress on unrelated charges, and he was reportedly not the brightest shank on the block. 

Wriothesley made the arrangements. 

Half an hour later, he happened to stroll by when Jacque was being beaten up by three guys in the shadowy corner. 

“Hey, what’s going on here? Leave him alone!” he said, walking up to them.

“Oh yeah?”, said one of the bullies, turning to him. “Well, make me!”

They were paid double for the pretend fight. It might have been an overkill, usually Wriothesley would go for just scaring them off without combat. Especially because anyone who’s been in the Fortess for some time or had a head on their shoulders would understand that nobody would try to openly fight the Duke outside of the fight club arena. But Jacque was as fresh as they get, allegedly stupid, and it was Wriothesley’s first chance at any info in two whole months, so he decided to make it as impressive as possible.

He went as easy on the guys as he could, they theatrically threw the fight and retreated. 

“Hey, are you okay?” he asked, kneeling next to the guy in the corner and putting his hand on his shoulder for emphasis. 

“Yeah, yeah, I think I’m fine,” Jacque muttered, shaking his head. 

“Why did they attack you?”

“They don’t want me to spread the truth...” Jacque said with heavy emphasis. “But uh, thanks for helping me out.” 

“No need to thank me. I feel bad enough that honest folk like yourself get picked on in MY Fortress. That’s not how I want to run my place, so it’s only natural that I stand up for you.”

It took a moment, but finally the guy gasped.

“Your fortress? Are you… the Duke?”

At least he knew what “Duke” is.

“Yeah,” Wriothesley grinned, turning up the charm. “And allow me to get you a couple of drinks to compensate for the rude welcome you’ve received so far.”

He got them to the Coupon Cafeteria, where best meals were already arranged, and generously poured alcohol into the poor guy, listening to the story of his life and misfortunes that brought him to the Fortress, nodding empathetically. He didn’t ask about Neuvillette at all, to not spook the target, trusting that he will come to this anyway, and finally his patience was rewarded. 

“You know, you’re good!” the guy said drunkenly after some time, clasping his hand on Wriothesley's shoulder, which he beared stoically, grinning with all friendliness in the world. 

“You know, they say we can’t talk to you because you’re bought by that lizard, but I think you’re a good guy. You just don’t know all the facts!”

“Which are?”

The guy leaned closer to him and lowered his voice to a dramatic whisper. “Neuvillette is an evil dragon!”

Wriothesley choked on a laughter, which was way too obvious to turn into cough even for the dunce this stupid. 

“No, you don't understand! Dragons were enemies of humanity that Celestia conquered. But they come back when killed! They reincarnate! He is a hydro dragon who was reborn in a human form so he could more easily trick us!”

Wriothesley blinked, remembering Neuvillette standing under the rain, and the old children’s song. “Hydro dragon, Hydro dragon, don’t cry….”

“He put our rightful archon Furina on that trial, right? No one else saw the verdict, so he pretended she was declared guilty. He forced her to abdicate and took the power for himself!”

Wriothesley realized long ago that Neuvilette, of course, was not human. It was clear to any idiot who talked to him for longer than a minute in an informal setting, not to mention a lifespan of at least five hundred years. But there were a lot of options other than “evil dragon”. There were old gods who did not receive archonhood, but instead decided to serve the archon, like Liyue’s adepti, and he always assumed Neuvillette was of the same kind. But the idea that Iudex was some kind of evil monster with a grudge against humanity was ridiculous. Especially when he showed up at the Fortress and saved the entire Fountaine and Wriothesley’s own hide from the flood.

“Really?”

“Yeah! We should restore our true archon Furina to her rightful throne!”

Furina’s insurrection? Interesting. Wouldn’t peg her for someone capable of this type of conspiracy.

“And did Furina herself give us her blessing?”

“She can’t speak publicly, as this monster threatens her.”

Hmm, inconclusive on Furina’s involvement.

He spent more time with the drunk Jacque, trying to get more details, but couldn’t get much more than unhinged ramblings on how evil the dragons are and how insidious it was for a dragon to pretend to be a human. He had to leave to prepare to Neuvillette's arrival the next day.

_____

Neuvillette stepped out of Opera Epiclese into the rain and slowed down his pace to prolong the sensation. It was a bit of what humans called guilty pleasure, as he felt guilty from inflicting rain on humans for his own pleasure. Though from his understanding, humans felt guilty because they saw this pleasure as something bad for themselves. Even if often this supposed harm made no sense to Neuvillette. Eating too much food until a human's stomach hurt was at least understandable to see as such, but he heard one of palais’ secretaries say that romance novels were her guilty pleasure. How could humans feel guilty for something as simple as reading? He stopped and asked her why she would feel guilty for reading, because melusines kept telling him that socializing with humans is very easy, you just need to ask them questions about themselves and let them talk about what they like. Well, it didn’t seem to work, as the secretary stumbled, started hyperventilating and emanated levels of panic and anxiety comparable to someone in the defendant’s chair. Sensing human emotions did not actually help Neuvillette in communicating with them, as he could not discern the reasons. He asked her if she perhaps came into possession of any cursed texts? He could generally sense the stench of corruption and there was nothing on her, but there was always a possibility that it was a curse he could not register. She panicked even more and vehemently denied. At this point he decided to give up on socializing, as it was obviously very distressing for humans, but felt obliged to tell her that if she ever did read anything she felt was cursed, to inform him. He hoped it would assuage her fear of reading. She thanked him, stuttering, and after that day avoided him at all costs. 

The rain was a compromise solution in any case. Neuvillette always felt a bit strained and uncomfortable in his body, but after obtaining full dragonhood and most of the memories of past lives, the human shape felt downright stifling. He now remembered thousands of years of being something much bigger, long coils that could easily crush the spire of Opera Epiclese. Now, when he looked at his own reflection, it was hard to comprehend that this small and ridiculous frame was actually him. In addition, all of his memories and instincts called him to be submerged in water. But even with his poor understanding of humans, he realized that seeing the Iudex floating in the river would alarm humans much more than him standing under the rain. So rain was the closest solution he could get at his position. 

He summoned rain instinctively, to be as close to engulfed in water as possible. It was a bit embarrassing that even humans noticed it and composed a rhyme, even if that rhyme was inaccurate. He didn’t cry, as vishaps didn’t cry at all and even his current human shaped body didn’t have tear ducts. The closest he could pinpoint to human experience, as he understood it, was being stressed and desire to be comforted, for which water was his best remedy.

And currently he was quite stressed, looking over the Fontaine laws in an attempt to revise them. The current system that treated justice as theater was clearly imperfect, which he realized long ago. But he never saw himself as authorized to change it, as humans were the responsibility of the archon and even without it, he was well aware he didn’t understand humans, so he knew it wasn’t his place to question the human justice system, to which he was only a temporary guest. But now, as fontanias became part of Teyvat after his decision, and so, a part of his responsibility as Teyvat’s god of life, even if the usurper tried to deny him, he couldn’t ignore the need for change any longer. The problem was that he did not understand humans any better, so it was very stressful to try and restructure their systems of governance. 

He extended a hand, catching raindrops on his palm, when he noticed a silhouette near the elevator to the Fortress, and stopped himself from visibly controlling the weather. 

Wriothesley caught his eyes and grinned, approaching him at brisk pace, umbrella over his head.

“Greetings, Monsieur.”

“Good morning, Your Grace.”

Wriothesley always somehow managed to make a “Monsieur” sound more impactful than Neuvillette could “Your Grace”, despite one being a noble title and another just a polite greeting. 

“Would you like to…?” Wriothesley extended his arm with an umbrella, without actually covering Neuvillette with it. In the past, as a part of playing a role of “normal human”, Neuvillette accepted such offers, though there were not many aside from Wriothesley who dared to approach him with it. But now, as he was a full-fledged dragon, at the height of his power and influence in this land, surely he could afford to discard this role? Surely he could afford to be himself at least in this?

“No, thank you,” he said, smiling and trying to sound as cordial as possible, so that Wriothesley would not think it was a slight against him personally. “Don’t take it as offense, but I actually like being under the rain.”

The Duke smiled back, shaking his head.

“No offense taken, but why didn’t you say it last time? I felt like an idiot forcing you under an umbrella.”

“Really?” Neuvillette perked up, falling in step with the human. “You could tell that I…”

“Hated it? Yeah, for sure.”

“....prefered not to have an umbrella.”

Wriothesley let out a low, guttural bark of laughter that somehow got to the dragon despite him not being interested in humans in general.

“Not only I could tell I disturbed you, but I had to walk on the flowerbed to get to you, and then I trailed dirt in the Palais while everyone here glared at me for the audacity. Meanwhile you walked on the same dirt, but stayed pristine!”

“I’m sorry for…”

“Hey, don’t apologize. I’m just kidding, don’t worry.”

Neuvillette met the greyish blue eyes of thawed ice directly and sensed that he was truly not bothered, which didn’t make much sense. But Wriothesley was one of the very few humans who was not scared in the dragon’s presence. He was, probably, the only one who emanated only positive emotions at their meetings. Neuvillette mostly encountered negative reactions in his daily life at the trials, so he could not tell apart which positive feelings exactly that he read from Wriothesley due to the lack of exposure. But perhaps…

“I wouldn’t want you to feel unwelcome at the Palais,” Neuvillette said after a short pause.

Wriothesley grinned with a careless shrug.

“Then I will be there, even if the rest of your bureaucrats make faces. As I said, don’t worry.”

Neuvilette frowned, but didn’t see much point in pressing this further. After a confrontation with Navia, the dragon realized that his lack of understanding of humans hindered him, instead of making him truly impartial. Especially now that he was de facto in charge of the entire Fontaine government. And practice showed that only direct interaction with humans could give valuable experience, as watching from the Iudex seat did not allow him a nuanced understanding. 

So perhaps, if Wriothesley was a rare human who was not scared of him, and he proved rational and trustworthy in the years they knew each other, Neuvillette could confide in his true nature and maybe ask for advice in understanding humanity?

“Perhaps staying for some tea would make up for this past offense?”

Wriothesley stumbled for a moment.

“Seriously?” He sounded as casual and ironic as usual, but the surprised burst of positive emotions from him was bright and obvious. “After all these years you finally decided to deign my humble office with your presence?”

“It’d be a completely unofficial visit, of course.”

“Sure, sure. It was never my secret plot to bribe you with a tea party, trust me, even I realize my tea is not that good.”

His voice was ironic, but for a moment Neuvillette could see his crooked grin turn into a genuine smile. So, reassured that he was not imposing, Iudex nodded and followed the human into the Fortress’ entrance.

_________

The inspection itself was mostly a formality. The Court of Fontaine technically had no direct authority over Meripode, but it provided guards and substantial resources, and so it had a right to oversee the use of these assets. The actual budgeting was done on the regular in behind the scenes reports though, as the data was not visible in the in person visit. Still, it was a time honored tradition that got Neuvilette to show up regularly.

“Take a seat. It will take me a minute to make tea.”

Neuvilette gracefully sat down on the visitor’s chair In Wriothesley office, folding his hands on the cane. He still sat with a ramrod straight back and perfect posture, but there was a certain lightness to him today, which was hard to put into words. 

“The inspection is over, yet you are still nervous.”

Wriothesley knew he had a poker face good enough to cover it, yet Neuvillette saw it anyway. He had theorized for a long time that the Iudex could sense emotions, but usually he would not acknowledge it directly like this. “I wasn't nervous about the inspection to begin with. But inviting a high and mighty Iudex himself to the tea for years and then disappointing him when he finally accepts would be a devastating faux de pas. They will mock me on the first pages of all the papers tomorrow.”

Neuvillette frowned slightly.

“I must underline that I’m not here in any official capacity, and I would hope I’m talking to Wriothesley, not the Warden or the Duke. If you agree, I would ask that we leave the titles at the door.”

“No, of course,” Wriothesley, who had fantasized about leaving titles at the door and then clothes on the floor for actual years, said quickly, frantically recalculating how he could turn the tea party to wine tasting, which best wines he had confiscated in his storage and how he could make turning on the gramophone and then maybe leaning against the edge of the table in front of Neuvillette look natural and smooth. “Absolutely. I was just joking anyway, don’t mind it.”

“Ah, I see. I apologize, I’m unfortunately prone to missing humorous intent, so I appreciate your clarification.”

With how far the Iudex went out of his way to assure people of his good intentions in informal situations, Wriothesley really didn’t understand how everyone found him so intimidating. Especially because he very often had to interact with assholes in positions of power who did try to intimidate him on purpose and the contrast was very apparent. Neuvillette projected an aura of power without really wanting to, and then tried to over-explain himself to make others feel at ease. His earnest awkwardness was something like the clumsiness of a huge beast like an elephant trying not to step on the gaggle of kittens at his feet.

“In any case, there is nothing to be nervous about. After all, tea is liquid, and it’s really hard to make liquids unpleasant. So far I think only Fonta truly managed it.” Neuvillette drummed his fingers on the table and glanced at Wriothesley. “To be frank, if crimes against water could be prosecuted, Fonta would receive life in prison.”

Wriothesley snorted. “So no sugar in your tea, I take it?”

“No, thank you,” Iudex said politely and then, after a short pause, “And to clarify, I was not serious. There is nothing wrong with people liking sugary drinks, of course. I was just making an attempt at a joke.”

He really was horrendously bad at pretending to be a human. How could anyone hear him talk and still believe he’s a scheming manipulator was beyond ridiculous.

“No, I got it. It was a good joke,” The Duke grinned, placing a teacup in front of Neuvillette and sitting down across the table with his own.

Neuvillette gave him a graceful nod with a little smile and picked up his cup, giving it a swirl before tasting.

“Hmm. Interesting. Poignant. Bitter,” he said thoughtfully, tilting his head. 

Wriothesley was about to mention that this sort was not usually bitter, but Iudex continued. 

“Not by nature, but forced by circumstances. Not nearly enough water to be nourished, so it had to adapt and conserve strength, letting leaves seen as unimportant to die and concentrate on survival of the main branches. But there is not just hunger… there is a dream of rain. An ache of something not ever known, but yearned, longed for, without realizing what it is. But then…” Neuvillette closed his eyes for a moment. “It happened. There is a memory of luminous joy of water not gathered by mere drops, but drank in full, overwhelming, a feast after a life of fighting for scraps of morning dew. It had tasted rain at least once in the end.”

Wriothesley put his own cup down, leaning forward in disbelief.

“No way. This was a harvest from a drought year and it’s normally a mild sort, considered unusually strong in this season. How could you know this? Are you cheating?”

“You’re welcome to test me with other samples,” Neuvillette said with an air of a magnanimous ruler granting a boon and put the teacup down with a delicate clink. 

“Oh, I’m taking you up on your word, trust me,” the Duke grinned, but then paused. He didn’t want to spoil the mood, but he remembered how strongly Neuvillette felt about the perceived melusines conspiracy. Wriothesley had to tell him about the evil dragon idiots just to make sure he’s not thrown off balance later. That’s what the guard dogs are for, after all.

“Actually, before we move forward with testing your psychic tea reading abilities, there is something concerning official business that I think you should know. And then we can forget it completely.”

Neuvillette inclined his head with a small smile.

“There is a small group of conspirators, - and I must reiterate, it’s very small - who operate on the ridiculous idea that… uh, that you’re some kind of an evil dragon who schemed to overthrow Furina.”

Neuvillette's smile froze.

“You don’t have to worry about it, really. It’s negligibly small, and well, anyone with a working brain would not believe that you’re a monster in disguise.”

Iudex was silent for some time, not meeting Wriothesley’s eyes.

“Are melusines implicated in this?” he said finally.

“No. No, there’s no connection to them in this stupid theory.”

“Good. That's good. They do love living with humans so much.”

Wriothesley suspected that Iudex was taking things kind of out of proportion again.

“Listen, it’s really nothing…”

“No, no, I understand. It would be so unacceptably horrifying for humans to learn their ruler is a… monster.”

Neuvillette's voice wavered, but his face was impartial, strict, previous lightness gone completely. Wriothesley saw his hands tighten their grip on the handle of his cane a moment before he abruptly stood up.

“I must apologize for impropriety, but I have important business in the Palais which was inappropriate for me to neglect for so long. I must beg your leave to depart.”

Wriothesley stood up too, scraping to understand what he did wrong.

“Wait, it’s not…”

“Thank you for your time, Your Grace.”

Wriothesley shut his mouth, the title feeling like a slap for the first time in his life. The formality and politeness somehow only made it worse. He took a deep breath and willed himself to sound calm.

“I hope you have a nice evening, Monsieur Iudex.”

Neuvillette left in what for his usual dignified pace could be considered a hurry. Wriothesley followed him without being seen, partly to make sure he doesn’t get bothered by inmates and partly on an instinct to investigate. 

At the Fortress’ entrance, he watched Neuvillette walk under the rain, lifting his head upward. The blue strands of his long hair glowed and so did his coat-tails. They extended, shining brilliant bioluminescent blue, trailing behind the Chief Justice, in a moment looking like fish’s fins, then the next - as colossal snake’s coils. Sea waves crashed against the ridge without any wind, rising high, reaching to a lonely glowing figure of Iudex. With bated breath, Wriothesley watched Neuvillette extend a hand, as if catching raindrops - and rain stopped mid-flight in the air, lingering over his palm, waves frozen cresting over the earth. The raindrops gathered in a shuddering spheres, and then stretched upwards, against all laws of gravity.  Wriothesley’s heart skipped a beat as Neuvillette closed his fist and the rain flew backwards to the skies.

Wriothesley stormed back into his office and frantically searched through the reports, pages flying about, until he found the one about vishaps. He looked at the photos, seeing similarities he would never look for before. The dark blue color of vishap’s hide was nearly identical to Neuvillette’s attire, but that was small beans, easily written off as coincidence. Their eyes, bright magenta with white vertical slice of a pupil, resembled Iudex, but there was room for debate, as his eyes were much paler, lilac merging into gentle blue instead of a bright pink, even as white vertical pupil was so similar. What really struck Wriothesley after all this, was actually the little blue feather at the side of the head of both vishaps and Neuvillette. It was identical and looked so… deliberate. It had to be chosen and placed precisely like this. 

Still, this was not enough. He needed more evidence. He needed… he needed answers.

He walked to Jacque's block as quickly as he could without alarming inmates, but when he got to the conspirator’s room, Jacque was sleeping on the bed and a man was sitting on the chair next to him, reading a book. He looked up when Wriothesley walked in and stood up, clumsily dropping the book. He was tall and gangly, had dark hair, Inazuman features and light brown eyes behind the glasses. 

“Who are you?” Wriothesley was really not in the mood for playing games.

“Well, my organization caught wind that you are interested in learning some… historical information, and our poor Jacque is really not the best source, which is why I’m here to answer any questions you have,” the man gave him a groveling smile. “You can call me Enjou.”

“Not here. In my office. Follow me.”

When they got there, Enjou whistled musingly.

“Uh, what a nice office! Must be a pretty sweet gig. I wish I had an office instead of slinking in dump ruins all the time.” He sighed theatrically. “So, I assume your main questions are on the vishap situation. I…”

“Wait,” Wriothesley said, walking up to one of his wall cabinets. “You can’t expect me to just believe you on your word.”

“Oh, of course, of course! You’re free to rough me up a bit first. Maybe a little bit of torture? But only a little bit, I’ve got a glass jaw, haha!”

Wriothesley didn’t live so long as an undisputed champion of fight club to not recognize a freak who gets off on pain. He grimaced, walking up to the table where Enjou was already trying to rifle through the papers. He stopped with an apologetic grin and put his hands up. Wriothesley put a glass vial on the table.

“Drink.”

Enjou raised his eyebrows.

“Are we dining and wining first or?...”

“It’s a truth serum,” it was a secret project of the Sumeru Akademiya, before the sages were overthrown. Dendro Archon reportedly could read the thoughts of people, and sages were trying to replicate the effect at least partially. Wriothesley came into possession of it after using his network to get the sages connected to the needed people in Fontaine institute, as Fontaine was at the cutting edge of mech technology and the sages were apparently building an artificial god. Didn’t pan out for them, but the serum worked. Wriothesley was sure of it, because he tried it on himself first.

“Oh! How exciting! How does it work? Will it perhaps burn my insides in agonizing pain if I lie?”

“Drink,” Wriothesley said through gritted teeth.

Enjou smiled and drank the vial in one shot.

“Well, nothing is burning so far, but the evening is young, haha,” he said, smacking his lips.

Wriothesley took a deep breath.

“Why are you here?”

“Huh? What do you mean? To explain the history to you, as I said.”

“Because of the goodness of your heart? What’s your agenda? Your goal?”

Enhou cleared his throat.

“Well, first of all, I do believe in uncovering and spreading so-called “forbidden” knowledge. But with your particular case can you really question my agenda? I didn’t come to you first. You were the one who sought us out. I didn’t even want to be here! I was doing my own thing without knowing about you, to be honest! But, well, I am in an organization with some unfortunate morons who thought that recruiting a convenient idiot and then sending him into underworld prison to make sure he isn’t heard is a great plan. And then when the Warden takes note of the idiot and gets him to blabber, these same morons go, Enjou, you have to get there, because you’re a vishap expert! Ugh.” 

Enjou shook his head in seemingly sincere frustration.

“But um, yeah, I’m not trying to recruit you or anything. We know how you’ve disposed of House of Hearth agents and how you generally obstruct Fatui’s activity, and we just don't want you to do the same to us. Because we’re not your enemy! So I’m here to provide you with the necessary context to see that.”

Wriothesley drummed his fingers on the table.

“Okay. Start talking about Neuvilette and vishaps.”

“Well, Neuvilette is a Hydro Dragon, that should be obvious. To clarify, Hydro Dragon here means Hydro Dragon Sovereign, because technically all hydro vishaps are hydro dragons. If you didn’t know, which is understandable, as you’re more of a fighter type and not a bookworm like myself, haha, vishaps are primordial elemental creatures, original rulers of this land and mortal foes of humanity. Long before Archons, there were Dragon Sovereigns in charge of each element. Then there was a war with Celestia, specifics of which are not widely known, but we do know that Celestia won, dragons were largely eradicated and the huge chunks of powers of Sovereigns were taken from them and given to the Archons. Hydro Sovereign was killed.” 

Enjou made a dramatic pause, before leaning forward with a grin. “But you see, vishaps reincarnate. Neuvillette is a Hydro Sovereign reborn in a human shape. There was actually an Inazuman prophecy about it, recorded in the Byakuyakoku Collection. That Hydro Dragon will descend in a human form, and it specifically mentions a cane. This really baffles me, to be honest. How could they predict the cane? Why does he even need a cane? Surely not because of any weakness, he’s an immortal dragon, 500 years is very young for him. And the records say when Neuvilette took his position as the Iudex some 400 years ago, he already had a cane. Was he born with it? Like, had he sprung fully formed, with a cane? Did he pick it up as, I don't know, honorary agreement with a prophecy? Or were his fashion choices actually predetermined to the degree that the prophecy knew them millenia ago?”

“Get back on track,” Wriothesley growled.

“Oh, sorry. Hmm, this serum works by forcing you to spell your thoughts out loud, yes? Well, then it’s not my fault I’m even more blabbering than usual!”

Wriothesley clasped his hands together and said slowly, carefully watching Inazuman’s reaction. “Even if he is a hydro sovereign dragon, as you say, this alone does not make him evil, as your conspiracy claims.”

Enjou fixed his glasses. He really had the hands of a bookworm, no work calluses or fighting scars. But there were spots of reddened, peeling skin that looked like burns that didn’t get to fully heal before getting burned again.

“Did you miss the “mortal foe of humanity” bit? But okay, sure. This is Fontaine after all, presumption of innocence and all that. I mean, I can’t read his thoughts to tell you under oath that he’s evil, so don’t take me to court, hehe!” Enjou grinned, clearly pleased at his own joke. “But I can tell what I know and ask some questions. My first question is why, after losing a war and presumably being killed by Celestia, would an ancient dragon god want to serve a servant of Celestia? The Archon, who rules with what is actually his own power? Unless he had some sort of agenda, perhaps? And come to think of it, why would Hydro Archon put a mortal foe of humanity into a position of such institutional power?”

“Are you implying Neuvilette forced Furina to give him the position of Iudex?”

“Well, I wasn’t here!” Enjou raised his hands defensively. “But why else would he become the Iudex?”

“There are higher beings and gods serving archons in other nations. Like Liyue adepti serving Rex Lapis.”

“Morax was known as the prime of the adepti. None of them could compare with him at strength. Same with yokai and Baal in Inazuma, she was the strongest by far. It’s natural that they would accept servitude. But here…” Enjou glanced at Wriothesley with a sly smile. “If you had to make a bet on a direct fight between Neuvillette and Furina, who would you bet on? Come on, I know tales that her own court would not listen to her until the Iudex tapped his cane.”

Wriothesley couldn’t really argue with this. When the Primordial Sea started breaking out, he himself sent for Neuvillette and didn’t even think to ask the actual Archon.

“In that case, why didn’t he just kill her immediately? Why would he play the judge?”

“Well, you see, he would not get his power back from just killing her. It would just pass to the next Archon. No, the Hydro Archon had to destroy her own throne. And running out the ruler requires a long game, as you know very well yourself, You Grace.”

Wriothesley kept a calm face, but something must have given him away, as Enjou grinned predatorily.

“Next set of facts and questions. You know of the infamous Archon trial, of course? When it was revealed that fontanian people are actually oceanids, given human shape by the previous hydro archon, Egeria? And the prophecy of the flood works because Primordial Sea waters dissolve fontanians into their oceanid forms. Well, the flood actually came. Why were fontanians not dissolved?”

“I’m sure you’ll tell me that.”

“Hehe, yes. It was because Neuvillette turned them into real humans with his powers of Hydro Sovereign. How generous of him, yeah? The question is, why did it take him so long? It’s been 500 years, and yet fontanians were made human only minutes before the flood.”

Despite a feeble bookworm posturing, there was a shadow of unhinged madness in his eyes, dangerous enough that in any other case Wriothesley would cut contact. But the stakes were too high right now. He needed to get all the information he could out of this lunatic.

“You might also remember that on the same trial it was proven that Furina is not a Hydro Archon. And I can tell you that the actual Archon, Focalors, was in the Oracle machine the whole time. Sorry, I’m not even trying to pronounce that full name, haha!”

The urge to punch this bastard was overwhelming, but Wriothesley kept himself in check, mostly because he could tell he was being baited into it and he didn’t want to give the piece of shit the satisfaction.

“Anyway, Neuvilette had an audience with her right after a trial, and as result she killed herself and gave him power back. You see, Hydro Archon doesn’t have the ability to turn oceanids into real humans. All of you were just… things, playing at being humans,” Enjou said with a smirk that looked more fascinated than mocking. “But Hydro Sovereign, the original god of life, does have the power to do so. And he also, conveniently, has control over the Primordial Sea, which you, Your Grace, already know as he stopped the flood in your own Fortress.”

Wriothesley raised an eyebrow and Enjou smiled with a shrug.

“Again, I was not there! But I do know Hydro Sovereign controls the Primordial Sea, and that there is an entrance to the Sea in the Meripode Fortress. I also know that there was some emergency in the Fortress, where inmates were told to run as close to the surface as possible, and then Monsieur Iudex visited and the disaster was somehow avoided.”

Wriothesley frowned. 

“If he was really a mortal enemy of humanity, why wouldn’t he just let the gates of Meripode break and the flood happen right there and then? We would all be gone and he wouldn’t need to lift a finger. Instead he ran to help when I… when the Fortress called.”

“And what would that achieve? He still wouldn’t get his power back,” Enjou shrugged dismissively and then smiled, almost wistfully. 

“No, you know what I would do if *I* was the Hydro Sovereign with an ability to take human form? And if the Archon who held my power hostage was relatively weak AND had the prophecy involving a flood of the Sea I control? Well, I’d infiltrate human society, take a position of high authority and make sure the humans not only see me as the personification of law and justice, but also respect me more than their own Archon. And when the prophecy deadline is coming up, I’d make sure I have people loyal to me in some key positions. Such as Royal Duelist… and the Warden of the Fortress.”

“He didn’t make me the Warden,” Wriothesley gritted out. 

“No, but he did make you the Duke, didn’t he?” Enjou smirked with a wink. “Our sources say the Court was not thrilled to give the highest noble title to you. And if the Iudex did not throw his own weight behind it, it would have never come to pass. How generous of him.”

It was true, Wriothesley’s own informants reported that the Court loathed to give him a title, let alone as high as the Duke. Neuvillette was the only one who fought for him and fought hard, because usually Iudex’s one word was enough to make a decision, but here the stalemate lasted for two months. They wanted to compromise and give him the viscount, but Iudex wouldn’t budge, so in the end, they caved.

Wriothesley never asked Neuvillette for the title. Neuvillette never mentioned what he did for the Warden and never dropped anything even as close as a hint of asking anything in return.

Unless you see it as a part of centuries long game, where mundane favors didn’t matter, but being called first to the access of the Primordial Sea did.

“Ah, you’re starting to get it, don’t you?” Enjou sensed blood in the water, like a proper shark would. “Then I would orchestrate a public court hearing to absolutely discredit the current ruler and corner the actual Archon. And when Focalors is forced to talk to me…. I would make a bargain. Saving the lives of all fontanians in exchange of getting my full power back and Focalors dying. Isn't it ironic that the dragon playing human was the one to turn human-shaped water things into actual humans?"

Enjou leaned back against his chair, grinning with satisfaction.

“And then I’d have an entire country loyal to me as a ruler, which would make a great foothold to use for attacking Celestia.”

Wriothesley took a deep breath.

“You really expect me to take you on your word? You might believe it yourself, which will pass the truth serum, but the word of a lunatic is not evidence.”

“Oh, of course not! I would never expect you to take my lowly word for it. Instead, why don’t you take Monsieur Iudex’s word?”

Enjou made a dramatic gesture of spilling a heap of conches onto the table. Wriothesley raised his eyebrows, when the other man poked one of them awkwardly.

“Now that I have reclaimed one of the Seven Authorities from the hands of the usurpers, I have regained my true form,” a calm voice that was undoubtedly Neuvillette, said out of nowhere. “I am now a fully fledged dragon, powerful enough to judge the rest of the gods. My final destiny is to judge the Usurper-King in the heavens above.”

“This could be faked,” Wriothesley said automatically, just to argue, but his heart already fell.

“You wound me! These are his words, and I spent an entire night fishing them out for you, I’ll have you know. It’s quite hard to capture this. You’re welcome to listen to all of them and see for yourself.”

Almost against his will, Wriothesley reached out and touched one of the conches.

“…I shall fulfill my vow to judge all of The Seven in turn, even if the sky should fall and the ground give way.”

Wriothesley took an abrupt breath through his teeth. Enjou sighed and stood up.

“I think it’s better for you to listen to this alone. After, you’re welcome to reach out to us, but please don’t make any hasty decisions. I’ll see you soon, Your Grace!”

Enjou walked down the stairs, and by the time Wriothesley got to them, there was no one there. The Duke couldn’t bring himself to focus on that though. Instead, he walked up to one of the wall cabinets and took out a bottle of whiskey he was saving up as a possible gift.

He didn’t bother with the glass. He fell down into the chair in front of the conches and clenched his fingers on the bottle, icy veins springing up from under them. He took a sip and touched another conch.

“…my grievances with the usurpers have yet to be settled... They owe a debt of blood that shall not be forgotten.”

He drank, staring blindly into the distance, and listened, and the quiet words burned worse than whiskey sliding down his throat. He caught himself on a familiar thought. “This can’t be happening. This is too monstrous.” The same feverish thoughts he had when he discovered the truth about his foster parents.

As if by now he shouldn’t have learned that nothing is too monstrous in this world.

“As a survivor of the dragon race who has regained my full dragonhood, I must fulfill my oath and obligations even if it means returning all the water in the oceans back to the heavens.”

It really did sound exactly like Neuvillette. Wriothesley tried to find the lie, something that sounded fake, but not only the voice, but the cadence and word choice fit. And it sounded calm, impartial as usual too. And then there were hydro vishaps appearing in Erinnyes…

Fuck, was it really that easy to fool him? Was he really this big of a fool? He learned to distrust sweet words and warm smiles, and he was so sure that he wouldn’t get caught in the same lies ever again, even if he sacrificed his ability to love for this. But all it took was a seeming opposite, direct and harsh, too cold and intimidating to appear manipulative, but endearingly awkward just sometimes, just enough to make him believe that… That there was something true and clear in this rotten world. That he could trust in *someone*.

“Nothing will stop me from rendering judgment on each of The Seven.” 

He went through all of the recordings, frantically at first, wanting to find contradictions, then, when none were found, numbly re-listening to the few that hit the worst.

“…also the destroyer of the present order, the one who shall judge all gods, and the foe of humanity. “

Wasn’t it too obvious in hindsight? Why would the Iudex stake his own reputation on Wriothesley’s title? How could you not see it coming? Oh, because you thought you “deserve” it for turning this dog-fighting pit of a prison into something with a modicum of fairness? Because you thought he recognized your redemption? Gods, what are you, fucking fourteen again, did you learn nothing, why would anyone ever care about you, you naive goddamn idiot?

Soon, the bottle was somehow almost done. At this point he was running one recording on repeat, mindless and purposeless except for repeating slashes of pain, familiar rhythm like the knife on his wrists years ago.

"Hydro Dragon, Hydro Dragon, don't cry." Whoever had penned that rhyme, as well as the Fontainians who came to believe in it, must not have known the Hydro Dragon all that well, considering that they thought the Hydro Dragon could cry. What did they take said Dragon for, some sort of bleeding heart who grieved for humans and the heavens alike?”

If this was true… If this was true, then Wriothesley didn’t just get fooled himself. Then he helped a monster take control of the country and potentially use it in war against heavens. 

He clenched his hand and it took him a moment to realize he broke the bottle he was holding in it. That pain from glass pieces in his palm felt small and distant now. But at last, it spurned him into action.

If this was true, he only had one shot. He’d already told Neuvillette of the dragon conspiracy, like a good little idiot eager to please. And any tyrant worth his salt would make sure to take him out after his, especially now that he outlived his purpose in giving access to Meripode vaults. He might have some time because of how oblivious he was, dismissing the conspiracy openly, but it couldn’t be long. 

He couldn’t take his time. He couldn’t hope for the better. He had to act like it’s the worst option possible. More than anything, he needed to confront Neuvillette, dragon Sovereign or not. He had to fix this, no matter the cost.

He realized he needed leverage. Brute strength was out of the question. Even before the flood, Neuvillette absolutely destroyed Fatui Harbinger in one flash, quicker than anyone in the audience could see what happened. Wriothesley would put himself against Harbringer with no hesitation, but he wasn’t an idiot. If this was how powerful Iudex was before, then after allegedly gaining his full power, there was no way Wriothesley could threaten him. No, he needed something else.

He took out the paper and wrote a note, taking care to not stain it with blood. Fortunately, he held the bottle in his left hand, so he could keep it out of the way.

“....and so confess that I, Wriothesley, Warden of the Fortress of Meripode, killed Chief Justice, Iudex Neuvillette.”

He finished the note and carefully put in his signature, then folded the paper into an envelope and closed it with his personal seal. Then he walked up to a safe, one of the hidden ones, and punched in a code. When the safe opened, he rummaged in it for a moment, until finally taking out two vials.

This was sold to him as the poison that could kill a god.

[loving-family-poll]

Ultimate Incest Tournament - Round 2

Homestuck fanart by Timsel-kun on deviantart

Propaganda under the cut:

Beverly/Elliot:

Hot lesbians both played by Rachel Weisz! And they're canon in the book it's based on, and like HEAVILY implied to be for realsies in love and fucking in the show. Great lesbianism, great incest

There's literally a scene where elliot is listening intently to beverly having sex in the next room, and she like moans listening to it ok

Beverly's gf breaks up with her cuz she's weirded out by the twins relationship

Beverly likes to attend a support group for ppl with dead siblings and pretend her sister is dead like the psychosexual issues here.....

beverly and elliot were literally trying to have a child together. Elliot (a gynecologist) artificially impregnated Beverly MULTIPLE TIMES

Dave/Rose:

Daverose blondetwin sweep because they were codependent without ever meeting from growing up seeing each other in their dreams

What does it mean to be an abused teenage boy growing up alone and seeing a girl in your dreams every night who is also your best friend. and when you finally meet her you go on a suicide mission together even though nobody was asking you to die with her. and then you are the only two human beings left in the recognizable universe on a cold meteor surrounded by aliens but you’re glad it’s with her. and when you finally touch the girl from your childhood dreams she looks exactly like you. because she’s your sister

I don't have words for how good these snarky assholes are together. DaveRose is brain chemistry changing. They both put up so many fronts, and engage in so much snarky wordplay, and are constantly trying to get under each other's facade. They play off each other so well, witty and sharp, I need them to be together always

We all die & we all die alone are the two cold truths of the universe but dave and rose broke both simultaneously by ascending to godhood together

Their twincest wins because it is just so confusingly tragic? profound? dave leaving rose behind in a doomed world, dave following her to the bomb. they are both so closed & cut off & curt its hard to imagine the depth of these things. but that is their love language: giving up their lives for each other over and over, in a confusing and fumbling and heartfelt love song. i can’t say i love you but i know we’ll die together anyway. because we’re made of the exact same stuff. i’ll find you again at the last moment. that’s love.

THEY DIED TOGETHER, YOUR HONOR

Confirmed canon by the author, (something happened) between them. Parallels of dying by each other's sides in EVERY timeline. They are THE womb-to-tomb. There is nothing platonic about winking at your brother while talking about crushes, that shit is incestuous. Seer/Knight archetype. They will die protecting each other.

do you realize love someone if you don’t follow them on a suicide mission into the gaping maw of a literal fucking sun after they knock you out and psychoanalyze you in your dreams? the blueprint of the “ethereal androgynous blonde boygirl twins” trope. witch/knight dynamics. they find each other to die together in every timeline no matter what (but they’re still emotionally constipated teenagers who bicker and make fun of each other in pesterchum). kids with grown-up powers. perfect little freaks of nature. what if we looked exactly like each other’s eyes

[respectthepetty]

10 Anticipated BLs for 2024

Since I'm excited for ALL the GLs (Pluto, 23.5, Sunshine in the Wind, Chaser Game, Be Mine, y todo!), I'm making my list of the 10 BLs I'm excited for this year with brief reasons why I'm looking forward to them. In my normal fashion, I cheat my way into having more. All except one is Thai because Thailand loves to tease series three years in advance, then never make them, but I strongly believe these are coming:

The Next Prince

Zee continues to never play a poor person, and a trailer is supposed to drop in the first quarter of this year. I never knew there was so many fencers on BL Tumblr, so I'm looking forward to everyone's commentary on how well the characters poke with their sticks or whatever fencers do.

Jack & Joker: U Steal My Heart

It's a heist BL. It has YinWar. It has Prom x Mark. It has Bonz. It's Dee Hup House (we got beef). It's Director Tee and probably Cinematographer Jim. It might have color coding. There is not one thing I can find wrong with this series. It's perfect on paper, and I'm praying that translates well to the screen.

Spare Me Your Mercy

Like that lady in Titanic, I've been waiting 80 years for this series (give me a minute to cry about MaxTul), and it's finally near! I'm getting JJ & Tor in a Dr. Sammon piece, who I feel writes "Be Gay, Do Crime" very well, so I'll be forgiving any of these two gays' wrongs including murder, attempted murder, contemplating murder, and murdering each other in the bedroom (ahhhh!).

Wandee Goodday

Golf from The Eclipse is directing. It's about Muay Thai. It has an older doctor and a younger boxer who start off as bed friends (and I think one is actually a virgin). It has color coding. It has me already seated and waiting with popcorn, and I think it might be the first offering that will be delivered from GMMTV's 2024 lineup.

Sequels: Choco Milk Shake 2, Unintentional Love Story 2, My Doctor

Is Choco Milk Shake 2 gonna finally give me poly? Probably not, but I hope My Doctor brings the same heat the side couple did in Be Mine, Superstar, and the side couple getting the spotlight in Unintentional Love Story 2 will also make my side-couple-supremacy heart very happy this year.

Live in Love

It looks color coded. That's it. That's the reason. Keeping my expectations low because it might not get made since this is Thailand's favorite game.

Red Peafowl

The character reveals were absolute chaos, so I'm hoping that chaos transfers over to the actual series because it can either be a mess or a masterpiece, but it cannot be mediocre with Max, Cooheart, Boun, Mek, and Yacht as supports. Plus, it has color coding and a bird that is quickly becoming a Tumblr god.

Love Upon a Time

Even though it is a historical queer series, which means it could be sad, I think Domundi will keep the sass, so James' character won't be crying in the 1600s club but instead eating fruit seductively to encourage Net's character to put his homosexual skills into practice instead of simply theorizing about them, which is something I need more of. Plus, it has color coding.

Love Puzzle

This is one that might not get made because . . . Thailand. It's connected to Chains of Heart, but I don't care because the cast looks good and Poppy is gonna finally get to kiss a homie. If this doesn't get made, I will cry thug tears. It's 2024. Poppy deserves to kiss a man already.

My Stand-In

I don't understand the plot, but it doesn't matter because Pepzi and Khom are directing, and in case that means nothing, those were KinnPorsche's directors! Then, it has Up and Poom as the leads, plus a stacked supporting cast. I'm here. I'm queer. And I'm ready to be served.

Honorable Mention: Peaceful Property

It's about los espookys and features Tay and New. Will it be a QL? The streets are saying no, but all the characters are color coded, and all's I'm saying is what would be the point of color coding them if I ain't getting a BL main couple and a GL side couple? It's already canon to me.

Bonus: MosBank & JoongDunk

MosBank had like eighty projects announced for 2023, and I got NONE! Big Dragon 2, Big Dragon: The Movie, SunsetxVibes, where you at?! Y Journey: Stay Like a Local and Club Friday do not count. I don't want to watch their horror movie, but gosh darnit, if that comes out before everything else, I just might.

And I am a JoongDunk fan first, and a human second. Give my boys a gym BL already, GMMTV!