#what did i learn? i learned that the government is spying on me through my own eyes and the seams in my clothes

[the-master-of-disaster]

"Psychosis is neither good or bad"

"Psychosis is not a crisis, it can be a positive experience!"

"In some cultures, psychosis..."

NO. Nononono. Psychosis is bad. Psychosis is scary and requires treatment, even if some forms of it make you feel euphoric or enlightened or whatever.

I can't believe we have to perpetuate the narrative that psychosis is a misunderstood otherworldly experience just for people not to hate us. Hello? Can we just... not hate people with "scary" symptoms without having to make them digestible and relatable? Can we just do that instead?

[unholyhelbig]

any chance for a kate x reader angst?

Title: Firecrest (Part 1/???)

Ship: Female!Reader x Kate Bishop

Wordcount: 4075

Summary: Kate Bishop and y/n have an unspoken agreement that revolves around being enemies with benefits. But when Kate's new mentor is someone Y/n is very familiar with, things become complicated.

Warnings: Mentions of sexual activities, fire, mentions of childhood abandonment, horrible grammar (I don't proofread lol), and things I'm sure I'm forgetting.

[A/n: how about enemies to lovers angst? How about Enemies to lovers with a little fake dating sprinkled in there? Let me know if this is something you all would like to see continued!]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

Your mother had the in-depth beauty of a street dog. Her features were angular, yet soft and welcoming. People were often tempted to reach and run their fingers through her fur. But she tended to gently correct. She had the perfect demeanor for a government spy. However, you had always known her as a brilliant biochemist. Alluring in her brilliance.

The soft lights of the city shaded her face in the back of the taxi. The air had warmed significantly, but the low hum of the air conditioner made you pull your suit jacket close to your breast. The maroon had felt like too much at first. But the impressed nod from the woman next to you was enough to ebb away any doubts.

Your mother popped open her compact and swiped her finger against the corner of her mouth, taking away the smudged gloss that wasn’t noticeable in comparison to her presence. There was not much you feared in this world, but her wrath. Her annoyance. Her disappointment. None of which she flashed often.

“Remember what we talked about, y/n.”

“Of course. Would you like me to repeat it?”

She snapped the compact and leveled you with amusement. Her eyebrow lifted, the start of a smile at the corner of her lip. She couldn’t be serious. You made eye contact with the taxi driver in the mirror. He showed the same amusement that your mother did, yet somehow, hers stung more.

A groan escaped you, but bled into the mantra that was drilled into you for the past two weeks. “I will be the perfect lady who is grateful for the success of Lance and his political circuit.”

“And?”

“I will not start anything I can’t finish with Katherine Elizabeth Bishop, And I’m an adult perfectly capable of handling myself.”

“That wasn’t part of it.” Your mother corrected softly. Her hands were suddenly on you, smoothing down the lapel of your suit. “But It’ll do. Mostly, because we’re here.”

Eleanor Bishop often held her galas in the historic buildings of downtown Manhattan. There were small pamphlets lingering by the extensive hand-carved doors. They’d detail the rich family that had built it from the ground up. The architecture was always admittedly beautiful, and Eleanor had a subtle, expensive taste.

This venue was no different; stretching hallways and men in suits that mirrored yours in a tasteful black. Your mother never stepped ahead of you, instead holding a hand out and helping you from the back of the taxi. You’d left a generous tip, careful not to shove your hands into your pockets.

“This used to be a museum for fine arts and culture. The last I heard; the city was going to tear it down but made it a historical site. They use it for banquets now, I suppose.”

“Oh? You’ve read the informational booklet, then?”

She jabbed her elbow into your ribs and mocked a scowl. “No. I robbed it. How do you think we paid for your college tuition, kiddo?”

That was an exaggeration. You were 90% sure- maybe 75%. Bobbi Morse was a force to be reckoned with, and that was something you had learned from a young age. She’d let you sit on the counter of her lab while she worked, and you’d watch her with absolute awe.

Your mother had taught you, without fail, a variety of fighting skills. Starting with Aikido and ending with Taekwondo. She was a master at her craft, both in the field and in her lab and had worked with you since you could walk to train you in the same.

“Mm,” You hummed your response, “Which priceless painting did you take?”

“It was a vase, smart-ass.”

You pulled in a breath to retort before effectively being rendered silent by the performance hall. Eleanor Bishop had gone all out for the benefits that she backed. This was a vast space that was adorned in white sheer and glittering lights. A slideshow of the sponsored bird sanctuary flashed on the televisions scattered throughout the space.

There was a band on the stage, string instruments that you could feel in the center of your chest. The low notes shuddered through you as you took in the crowd. There were few that you actually recognized, usually hazed in expensive alcohol and lingering by the food, or some form of fresh air.

“It’s ironic that it’s about birds, right?”

She leveled you with an unimpressed look and squeezed your shoulder fondly. It didn’t take long for Lance to make his way over to the both of you. His eyes lit up and a smile spread across his freshly-shaved face. He gave you a small wave, gently exiting the conversation he was having with a congressman, a millionaire, or an architect that was just the right amount of desperate.

Lance Hunter had stolen your mothers heart when you were ten years old. You always assumed it was the accent, but the more you got to know him, the more you understood his charms. Lance had never forced things with you, had never claimed to be your father.

There were quiet moments when he’d join you on the wrap-around porch of your family home and just sit. The two of you would watch the way the sun dipped behind the horizon, sipping on syrupy cans of soft drink. Eventually, you talked to him, and he listened with diligence.

“My girls,” he said, placing a chaste kiss against your forehead before sidling up next to Bobbi. They had effortlessly matched in a deep and royal blue that contrasted the ignited red of your own suit. You were the perfect epitome of a political family.

Eleanor Bishop had given you a brief nod of the head, signifying your presence. It was a silent warning told through blackened eyes: Behave.

Her diligent attention was enough to split your family up. You preferred to linger away from the stuffy socialites. Bobbi and Lance were required to mingle. You plucked a flute of bubbling champagne from a passing tray and moved towards one of the elegant support beams decorated with what you now learned, was real foliage.

The floral scent tickled the back of your throat, so you took a generous swallow and let the alcohol warm your stomach diligently. There had to be something interesting around here, away from the rest of the party. A plague or two that would further explain the venue.

A burst of forced laughter greeted your parents as they sidled up next to Jack and Eleanor. Lance had produced some campaign buttons, which the group took without hesitation. You had to admit, he was loveable and politician-worthy.

“Look at us, we match.”

You swallowed back a groan, not bothering to look over. A small noise still escaped you, and the grumble conveyed your exact disposition towards Kate Bishop. Disgust. Annoyance. The slightest bit of attraction. She overwhelmed your senses with her crisp, winter scent.

Eventually, curiosity got the better of you and you glanced over at her. She was in red too, incredibly vibrant against her soft expanses of exposed skin. The dress had a dipping neckline, revealing the freckles that created constellations against her collarbone. She beamed with irritation. You’d never admit that she was captivating.

“I thought you were given explicit instructions to leave me be.” You said between gritted teeth.

She hummed and grasped the drink from your hand. Kate was calculated in her movements, wrapping her lips around the smudge of lipstick that you’d already created on the rim of the glass. She didn’t break eye contact, those slate orbs boring into you.

“We both know you’re the most interesting thing at these parties.”

“I’m not falling for your… charms, Kate Bishop. Your mother may have bought you out of our consequences last time. But, I have more at stake.”

She scoffed and set the now empty glass down on the nearest table. You knew damn well that Kate wasn’t absolved of accountability after your run-in a few months back. She held herself differently now, and it was a minute expression of her posture that caught your attention.

There was a small split at the corner of her lip, and a healing bruise just at her hairline. She’d attempted to use makeup to cover the abrasions, but you had a trained eye. You were your mother’s daughter. These were defensive wounds. And for just a moment, you worried that the Bishop’s had a heavier hand than you’d anticipated.

But then, Kate’s muscles flexed and her head lilted to the side, dark curls splaying over her shoulders. She had grown stronger. It wasn’t noticeable, or at least, it shouldn’t’ have been. But you knew every inch of her body and despite your forced separation, she’d grown steady of herself.

“Why should I be punished, when you’re the one who set the curtains ablaze.”

You leaned close enough to feel her body heat. To her credit, she didn’t step back. A ghost of a smirk was on her lips. You snarled your words. “And who’s fault was that?”

“I don’t see how I was supposed to know you’d get trigger happy with your powers when I went down on you.” She gave you a cocky pout. “Is that a new thing, or have you never been able to handle yourself in moments of pleasure?”

You couldn’t stop yourself from grasping at the strap on her dress, pulling her closer to you out of a burst of anger. The phantom look of confidence spread into a full-blown grin. You were exasperated, the familiar heat burning just under your skin.

It was true, you’d lost control for just a moment, with Kate Bishops head between your legs, one hand buried deep in her mess of tangled hair. As an orgasm washed over you, thighs shaking, your other hand had drifted too close to the drapes and had caught them ablaze.

Despite the both of you being adults, you were separated within an instant. Dragged embarrassingly away by your respective parental units after the fire was put out. The last you’d seen of her was reflected with the flashing red lights of a rumbling fire engine.

Kate had a devilish look in her eyes. “Harder, baby.”

“Ladies,”

It was a resolute sound that had you pulling apart as if she was a toxic entity. In your book, she was. Both hands landed in your pockets and the two of you looked sheepishly at Eleanor. She’d been keeping an eye on you, you were sure. And had made a direct line to you the second Kate had given you that salacious look.

“Good evening, Mrs. Bishop. It’s a pleasure to see you.”

Kate coughed out something that sounded like ‘Kiss ass’ and covered it up with a doe-eyed look of innocence. She may not have been afraid of her mother, but you were terrified. Bobbi had a soft hand. It commanded you like a weapon, and you were happy to do what you were told.

Your own punishment had consisted of heavier training. Both mentally and physically to perfect control that you’d had mastered years ago when you were nothing but a girl with streaks of tears dripping from your chin. The fire had been too strong then, overwhelming and horrible.

“Good evening, Miss Morse, I trust you’ve found a way to entertain yourself during the benefit that isn’t antagonizing my daughter.” Before you could answer, she turned her attention to Kate. “And you. I specifically allowed you to bring a guest in attempts to keep you away from Bobbi’s little arsonist.”

She had been under the full impression that you’d taken a zippo to the hanging drapes. It was the white-hot flames that leaked from your own fingers that had done the damage. Kate was thankfully tight-lipped about the fact, and you let the socialite think whatever she wanted. She hadn’t pressed charges.

Kate pulled her shoulders back, almost looking offended at the name you were tagged with. Almost. “Clint got stopped at the front for an autograph, mom. I’m just biding my time.”

“Bide it somewhere else. We’ve talked about this.”

Eleanor gave you a tight-lipped smile that had noticeably softened compared to the venomous expression she held for Kate. A light squeeze was delivered to your arm. It had always scared you how quick she could switch like that. Her shoulders pulled back as she wandered back over to her group.

Lance lifted his chin in your direction. Silently asking if everything was okay, and it was. His quiet reassurance brought the heat licking at your stomach to a bubbling halt. Why you cared more about Eleanors disposition towards Kate, then her acidity directed at you, was beyond something you were willing to confront.

“Who’s Clint?”

“Why? Jealous?”

“Can we have a normal conversation, please. Is it so shocking that I’d take interest in your friends?”

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Yes. If you must know, he’s not a friend. He’s a mentor. He’s, my partner.”

Both of your eyebrows lifted. Partner in what? It wasn’t something you would audibly voice, save you show any concern past the normal amount that you usually had for Kate. The tautness of her muscles, and the superficial injuries made that discomfort return to the pit of your stomach.

Kate was an archer. You knew such from the trophies that littered her dresser the one time you’d been privy to her room. Truth be told, you hadn’t paid much attention. You were backed against her door and her teeth were scraping against your pulse point. But the little gold figures and the child-sized bow on the wall was enough to of a giveaway.

You only knew one archer, and you knew him distantly; from photos that your mother had blacked out with a sharpie. She’d later told you that she regretted the fact because the memories of the three of you would always remain.

The taste of bile filled your throat and Kate lilted her head to the side, like a golden retriever that had heard a piercing noise. There was a surprising amount of concern in her voice. “You okay? You’re looking a little green.”

“Hm? Yeah. Totally. The champagne is just sitting weird.”

A frown had found its way onto your face, and you directed your attention back to the crowd. It seemed that Eleanor was satisfied enough with the two of you lingering in silence. You were trained to know where the exits were in any venue. Kate’s stare shockingly darted in the same pattern as your own.

People had trickled in until the floor was bustling with conversation. You let your shoulders relax in the slightest bit, swallowing back the acrid taste in your mouth. Eleanor had lost her viewpoint of you and her daughter, and you weren’t much in the mood for fighting her on pure proximity.

“There you are, god, I didn’t know this many people cared about birds.”

This time, you couldn’t stop your narrowed eyes from flashing to the intrusion. Whatever distracted Kate was enough to be deemed a savior in your book. But the voice was familiar, painfully so. It was as if your body reacted by busting out in goosebumps, chills rushing down your spine.

Now, you wanted your mother to be able to see you. You were a strong, and capable adult that knew at least six different ways to kill a person without a weapon. You’d gone on missions with your mother, with your Aunt Daisy, too. A simple man in a simpler suit should not make your knees weak.

Yet- here he was. In a charcoal black ensemble with a pocket square that was a flash of purple. It was a color you’d grown to despise. It was an eyesore, as was the man that stood at a height taller than Kate, but just a few inches.

You’d found a singular picture of him that wasn’t defaced in your mother’s nightstand. A polaroid of the three of you on the beach. The sun had turned your cheeks a flushed pink. He had you in his arms and beamed at the camera. Eyes matching the blue of the ocean.

They were the same now, the same vibrancy that you’d thought about. He looked other, worn from parenthood and the effects of time. Of course, you’d seen him on television, but Bobbi had always been quick to flick it off, only lingering during the Sokovia accords.

His mouth fell open in disbelief, but you were careful to keep your jaw stock still. You weren’t going to give Clint Barton the satisfaction of rattling you. Not here, not if he ever decided to show up when you had a family of your own. Not on your deathbed. He couldn’t invoke that from you.

Kate had learned to pick up on body language, and she had learned fast. Her stare shifted between both you, and Clint. She had the right amount of perception to keep her mouth shut, even taking half an inch step back. She was in a position to hold the two of you apart, if need be.

“Holy shit,” He breathed out, “Sparky.”

“Don’t call me Sparky.”

You were taken aback by your own ability to produce words. They were pinched and had dropped down an octave to true anger. Not the type that Kate Bishop was used to. Sure, you had aggravation directed towards her, but nothing short of teasing.

Clint took a slight step towards you, and you took a large one back, nearly bumping into the support beam wrapped with vines and vibrant flowers. Your hand reached out to grab onto it for support, but Kate’s fingers wrapped gently around your wrist. Right. Yes. That would be the safe bet.

You needed to find Bobbi.

Chances were, Clint hadn’t seen her with the growing attendance. You could slip out through the large storm doors that were a few feet behind you. At least then, you could burn scorch marks into the grass and not into this historical building.

“What is happening?” Kate said, refusing to remove her hand from your wrist. You didn’t wrench it away, either. It was a force, a grounding factor. You refused to let the fire move past your fingertips in fear that it would burn her. “Clint?”

“She uh… She’s…”

The words died in his throat. You couldn’t’ stand looking at him, pale as ice and wringing his hands nervously. He couldn’t hold still, but you were like a stone. Almost as if he would vanish the second you averted your stare.

“I’m his daughter.”

Kate’s hand did move from your wrist and to your hand, almost out of instinct. Your relationship, or lack-there-of, had never required this kind of closeness. But She was hanging on tightly, nails digging into your skin. The slight sting brought you back.

Clint croaked “How’s your mother?”

Kate winced and you felt the spring in your spine loosen. He was more nervous than you were and that gave you an advantage. “You can ask her yourself. She and Lance are mingling.”

“Lance is here?”

“Of course.”

He was running for congressman. It would damage his campaign if he hadn’t shown up. The gossip blogs that followed the lives of New Yorks Elite had picked up on the rift between you and Kate. There were a few grainy photos of the two of you standing shoulder to shoulder, wrapped in foil blankets that made you look like Baked potatoes. There was soot on her chin, and you had wiped the darkness away with your thumb. Of course, that had been the moment they caught and wrote about, and plastered all over the internet.

Clint worked his jaw and cupped the back of his neck with a tepid smile. It wavered incessantly. He was boyish in his charm and that would always be the case, no matter how old he got. You knew he had a family now. A real family that didn’t’ consist of a secret agent and their match-happy daughter.

You gave Kate a squeeze with your free hand, signaling that you were fine. The last thing you wanted to appear was weak. She seemed to get the message loud and clear, wrenching her touch away with a nervous clearing of her throat.

“I’m sorry… Can we back up for a second?”  

Clint had a dejected look in his eyes that almost made you feel a twinge of guilt. Almost. Your own ego often got in the way of things, and this was one of them. There was a flood of emotions between both of the archers, a silent pleading to hear him out.

“You and Mrs. Morse dated?”

“They were married.” You snatched another glass of campaign, this one all for yourself. You swallowed the acrid drink and let the bubbles assault your throat. “When did the divorce finalize, again?

“Y/n”

“No, I was never really privy to the details myself.”

“We shouldn’t do this here.”

You finished off the rest of the drink, a certain amount of your defenses lower. You felt warm, but not warm enough to do something stupid. He was right. You shouldn’t do this here and if you had your way, you wouldn’t’ do it anywhere. You were perfectly content to let this man slip back into oblivion and train the Bishop heiress that you had a habit of bedding.

Clint seemed to let out a sigh of relief when you nodded in agreement. He scrutinized you both, the rush of initial shock ebbing away like a melting lake. Chunks of ice broke off and gave way to the familiarity and closeness the two of you held. It was relaxed, despite the rivalry that landed you here in the first place.

“No,” he drawled out, “No, no, no. Kate, you didn’t’.”

The tips of her ears were red enough to match your suit and the color that painted her own lips. She hid her face in her hands with a groan. But you wrapped your arm around her waist and pulled her against your side.

“Does that bother you, old man?”

It clearly did. Kate leveled you with a delicious glare that was unmatched but didn’t’ move from your hold. Was she letting you have this? You weren’t entirely sure. He was whipping his head back and fourth with enough force to break his own neck. It was making you dizzy, but giddy all the same.

Your moment of joy at his dismay was short lived. You caught the sharp scent of your mothers perfume. She’d cut through the crowd and furrowed her brow at your closeness to Kate. It took her a few moments to realize that Clint was here. To realize that he was the man that had spurred your act of rebellion in doing the exact opposite of what she’d requested at the start of the night.

Her cool eyes took him in just as yours had. Kate was still next to you, swallowing a dryness in her throat that you could nearly hear. Bobbi didn’t attempt to separate you as Eleanor had. Instead, she gave you a quiet stare. “Darling, I think it’s time we go. There’s a situation we have to attend to.”

“Of course. It’s been a pleasure.”

It hadn’t been, but you shocked yourself and Kate by leaning in and pressing a kiss just behind her ear, still blazing with blush. She froze but gave you the slightest bit of nod. Clint opened and closed his mouth like a surfaced fish, but kept quiet.

Your mother walked with a purpose, her shoulders pulled back and an elegance to her sway. You didn’t look back, keeping time with her as she weaved through the crowd and towards the lobby that was ten degrees cooler and much, much more welcoming.

“Is there actually a situation, or is this your attempt at a rescue?”

She ignored your question, stopping and tucking a strand of hair behind your ear with a soft look in her eyes that made your stomach squirm. “Are you okay, sweetie? I had no idea that he’d be here. I never would have made you come.”

“I’m fine, mom.” She didn’t seem convinced, so you added “Really.”

Eventually, Bobbi relented with a shaky sigh and cupped your cheek in a comforting manner. “Good. Okay. Good. Because we do have a situation.”

[tare-anime]

Hi, your posts about Spy X Family are real good. I see chapter 105 as improvement of Franky's role and character. Wheather he'll get lucky - or not - on the Finding a Girlfriend case is a hot one. I wonder,when will Anya she's fed up with Damian's disdaineful,toxic world? I posted my thorough stydy upon this case. I've ceased to believe for a friendship(or romance between them). Unpopular truth:All these (old and new) cruel and awfull insults of Damian to Anya, in the end reflect and represent his Papa(: So in my opinion she and Papa "Twilight" will get the documents of Donovan's scheme by an other source.By the way, if government officials and the SSS are not his lackey's ,associates for his scheme then who they might be? And when WISE uncovers it what will be their actions against him and his network? Are we ready to see how Sylvia has killed people,real villains say Ostanians similar the assassins yor has killed? See you :)

Oh wow, thank you so much. I'm glad you find my rambles to be enjoyable 🥰🥰

As for chp 105, yes it's one of my favorite kind of "side character building up" type of chapter. And this time, we got to see Franky's character building. For me, Franky is such an amazing character that know how to enjoy his life. He has his princips and stays true to that, and didn't stop being kind, while at the same time he has a very smart view of the world and very logic in thinking process. I do hope he will find a woman who will appreciate him as who he is. But first, he has to decide when he want to settle down before doing it.

As for Damian. Yes, unfortunately if I have to be honest, I don't like Damian very much if he is showing his tsundere side and keep pointing and hurting Anya. But, he is still a boy, who tried too much. I hope he will one day learn to accept that there's nothing wrong by enjoying the process of growing up, and not too focused on the goal. And the fact that his Dad IS NOT someone he has to look up to. I believe Damian has good heart though, as we already seen in so many occasions. And just like every kid, in the growing process, the influences from other people particularly their peers are huge. And I hope Anya (with her own problems and difficulties) alongside with Ewen and Emile and Becky, can help Damian grows into a fine man. This is why, my fave chapter of Damian will always be where he can act like a boy of his age.

And I do agree. I do hope Twilight will find some other way to approach Donovan. And not pushing it through Anya and Damian friendship. Let these kids be friend without ulterior motives other than being friends.

The mystery of Donovan ascossiates are still there. This man has so much power, and yet, we know he is not with the incumbent of Ostanian govt. He is not directly leads the SSS, though without a doubt there will be fractions of SSS who is loyal to him up until current timeline. So where did his power came from? This remains a mystery until Endo decides to move forward with the plot, I guess 🤭

Tbh, I don't think WISE is 100% good either. It is possible that Op Strix be WISE's own plot to overturn Donovan because this man dares to oppose WISE. Anything is possible in politics after all 🤣 so how will WISE reacts when they finally got the information on Donovan? That will also depends on further information given to us by Endo himself.

Come on Endo!!! Give us more plot development 😫😫

Regarding Sylvia, Oh yes, through her speech during Inu-san crisis arc, we know that Sylvia has killed people during her life. This has eating her soul, but she has to carry on with her life. The same goes to Yor. Yor must know that not all of her clients are guilty per se, but she has to numb her soul because that's how she carry on with her life.

Thank you so much for the asks. I hope I manage to give satisfying answers 🥰🥰🥰

Good day to you too!

[whateversawesome]

Spy x Family Biggest Mysteries

Are you ready for this new arc 😏?

I don't think we're even halfway through the series, so there's still plenty of mysteries to solve. Here are the biggest mysteries in the series:

Yor's background story: Just like we learned why Twilight cares so much about his mission and we saw him as a kid and later as a soldier, we also need to know how Yor got started as an assassin.

How was she recruited? How were those first 'customers' for her?

There's also theories that say her parents may have been linked to the Garden.

The Garden: How does the Garden work? We have a fairly good knowledge about WISE and what it stands for, but we know very little about the Garden. Are they part of the government? Are they a vigilante organization? Are there other assassins? (That would be cool to see 😃)

And most importantly, if Yor chooses to leave, will they let her?

Donovan Desmond: He's the reason why Operation Strix started, yet, we know so little about him. Is he a good guy or a bad guy? Is he planning a conflict with Westalis? Does he hate his children? Why is he a recluse? And what are those strange scars on his head?

So many questions, so little answers!

Leonardo Happon: Who is this mysterious figure? And will he be relevant in the story? Some theories say he's one of the scientists that experimented on Anya; others that he's Twilight's childhood friend.

Anya's past and biological parents: Anya's origin is probably one of the biggest mystery in the series and I suspect we won't know about her past until the last arc of the story. Are Anya's biological parents still alive? And what does her name mean? See all the theories about her name here.

Project Apple: What's the link between Project Apple and Donovan Desmond? Even though we don't know much about it, we can guess it's linked to Anya. What's its purpose? Who is running it?

Twilight's real name: This mystery needs no explanation. Many of us are dying to learn what's Twilight's real name, but will Endo choose to reveal it?

Melinda Desmond: One of the most mysterious characters in the series. Why is she estranged from her husband? Is she against him? Is she trying to take advantage of Yor or really trying to be friends? And why did she act that way towards Damian?

[Redacted]'s dad: Some say he's dead, but if you've read certain fic, you know my thoughts on this: (he's Yuri's captain!)

Something I would like to know is what was his role in the peace negotiations between Westalis and Ostania.

Are there any other mysteries you want to know about in sxf? Reblog and tell me!

[elliewiltarwyn]

FFXIV Write 2024 | #12: Quarry

Third Astral Moon, 18th Sun, 01 7AE

I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

Went to all that effort; learned his schedule, learned his retinue’s schedule and their patrols. Learned about his nighttime proclivities, learned when he’d be on his way to or from. Scoped out the right place, figured out what the right time would be. Staked it out, waited for him, managed to knock out his bodyguard without breaking a sweat. Hunted down my quarry, brought my blade to his throat. Looked him in the eye.

And couldn’t.

I could feel, when I lowered the sword from his chin, her disappointment stewing in a corner of my mind, and I can’t exactly blame her. Under her—tutelage, for lack of a better term, I slew many beings far less deserving. Many beings who held no real power, or grasped pathetically for whatever power or control they thought they could handle. Here was a man who indubitably held immense power, buoyed by his wealth, frequently using it to get his way in a manner that involved stepping on, and crushing, those he considered beneath him.

A man with a finger in every pie - as he reminded me then. He didn’t even seem terribly offended that the Warrior of Light was here for his head - hells, it almost seemed like he expected it. (Maybe he did. Who am I to think I can outsmart the spy network of a multi-gillionaire? They probably knew I’d be here before I did.) He simply pointed out that were he to lose his head in so sudden a manner, it wouldn’t magically solve the problems the sultanate faces. Indeed, the ensuing chaos and conflict over everything, from the reallocation of his wealth to the sudden rush by opportunists to fill the power vacuum, would inevitably hurt the citizenry at large - “the very poor you think you’re saving, as well as our dear sultana.”

I tried to pretend I didn’t give a shite about any of that - that I was there solely to slake my own thirst for vengeance for what he did to us at the bloody banquet.

(Do I blame him for Minfilia? I know now it was Hydaelyn that called to her in that moment…)

I doubt I fooled him for a moment. I wanted to, by the gods. I would have liked nothing better than to shut Lord Lolorito up for good and shove a greatsword five times his size through his neck. But too much now weighs on me—and Mia, and Lily—to plow ahead with such a plot so thoughtlessly. People call us the Warriors of Light now. And sure, those Warriors of Light have, by this juncture, overthrown a corrupt government, slain a corrupt ruler and a dragon whose own desire for revenge drove a thousand-year war…

It isn’t as cut and dry as it was with Thordan - Lolorito has used his power to aid us just as much as he wounded us. To kill a man with such extrajudicial measures, without taking into consideration all the possible consequences, without preparing for the worst, just because it would make me feel better in the moment…

I still believe he would deserve it. But, cowardly as it is, I wasn’t prepared to bear the burden of that decision.

I had thought myself a predator stalking her prey, but the cunning little bastard understood me better than I did. And that sickens me. I need a bloody shower.

(note to self: find some way to magically lock this journal. Wouldn’t do to leave a document lying around that admits I very much attempted to assassinate Lolorito Nanarito of the Syndicate.)

[ask-regex]

An Incredibly Inopportune Time for Self-Reflection

Right. So. Where to begin? Hi, I guess. My name is Markus, I’m 24 years old. I enjoy the odd board game every now and then. What am I up to at the moment? Oh, that’s an easy one. I’m currently on the run from several rifle-wielding security officers while my neural software scrambles my face on any camera feed that I run by.

Look, I know what it sounds like, okay? Let me explain.

A few years ago, I worked at this place called Atom Corp. It’s this huge building that towers over all the skyscrapers, and their whole deal is making things online more convenient. Some guy at a board meeting once said “Hey, we should make our own Single Sign-On system!” and everyone agreed with him, even the government. Now, everything in the city is accessible only by Atom ID - no more Sign In with Google, or email addresses and usernames and passwords. Just Atom. And on an initial glance, this sounds like a great idea, right? You don’t need to remember 50 different passwords, but instead just one. If you didn’t know any better, you’d probably buy into it and sign up for a government-linked Atom ID that you could connect your entire digital life to. But that’s where the wicked trick lies.

Once you have an Atom ID, it’s a permanent identifier to you on whatever services you use. People with the right access can use that Atom ID to contact you, to look up information about you, to check what you’re up to. Every text, every social media post, every search term… all laid out for them to see and assess for whatever they deem necessary. You lose all sense of privacy if you’re not hypervigilant about what you put online, and the scary part is that everyone here just… bought into it. They tried to riot against Atom’s government integration for a few days, but then they signed up for Atom IDs and opted for convenience in lieu of their online safety. I was one of those people. Once.

When I was 16, I signed up for my Atom ID. I was sick of having to borrow my friends’ IDs to look at stuff online, and my dad said it was fine, so I did it without a lot of thought and without bothering to read the terms and conditions. Y’know you actually sign up for a lot of shit you probably don’t want when you just hit “Agree” on those things without reading them. You learn a lot about the shady business they’re trying to pull by reading those things - but that’s besides the point.

Later on in life, my sister gave me a hand in getting an interview at Atom for a junior data analyst position. Keep in mind I’d been growing up writing code and reading data ever since I was, like, four, so I was a self-learned prodigy by this time. I went in for the interview, I aced it, and was immediately put to work sifting through data roughly two weeks later. I’ll admit, it was the best job I’d ever had. The pay was insane, the work was fulfilling… I even met my first boyfriend at one of the company’s work mixers later on and we had a pretty deep thing going on for the better part of a year. But it was short lived, much like my time with Atom.

About a year in, I stumbled upon an exposed folder in the central servers. Normally you’re supposed to call these things in, but I was working a really late night at HQ and no one else was gonna be awake to fix it, and I figured it wouldn’t hurt to take a glance and then fix the permissions myself. So, of course, I opened it. 

I found years upon years of confidential documents outlining Atom’s involvement with some crazy illegal shit. Stuff like kidnapping, spying, bribing of court judges… and thousands upon thousands of log files about an algorithm that automatically grouped Sandspire City citizens into packages to be sold to big advertising companies for hundreds of dollars each. Atom Corp wasn’t just a single sign-on login company… It was a data farm, feasting on the lives inhabiting an entire city and making billions of dollars in profits from the sales. The pure sight of it all had almost made me sick, to know that the data I was searching for patterns in was probably the data of an innocent person whose personal habits I’d inadvertently helped sell. I was mortified. I was… well. I was furious.

I don’t quite remember what I did at work for the next few days. I remember hatching a plan to wipe myself from the system - stealing a cybersecurity officer’s creds, logging into the central citizenship database, wiping my records clean and erasing any history of my time at the company - and then I remember bursting out of the front doors before the guards could catch me and arrest me for what I’m sure a bigshot Atom shareholder would call ~treason~. From that point onwards, I swore I’d take Atom Corp down. No matter the cost.

Oh, jeez, look at me rambling. And in the middle of a chase! Hey, you’re gonna have to give me a second so I can lose these guys. I’ll be right back!

- END COMMUNICATIONS -

Markus's Inbox is now open.

[leportraitducadavre]

I have 3 long questions that have been bothering me for a while.

1)What actual evidence Konoha had to suspect the Uchiha Clan after the Kyuubi's attack?

I've reread some of my issues and noticed that Minato never actually passed on his info about his confrontation with the masked man (Obito) to the Leaf. He suspected he was an Uchiha, Madara, but he went from his fight straight to the Kyuubi and then straight to the shinigami's belly. he really chose to die instead of raising his son, I can't believe there's a dad worse than Boruto!Sasuke

So what evidence they had to point the finger at the Uchiha Clan? There were bodies left behind and the Kyuubi was summoned through a jutsu to Konoha, instead of breaking out by itself and rushing over from the hideout, so everyone can see that it wasn't just the complications from childbirth breaking the seal but an actual attack by someone. The only one who managed a contract with the tailed beast was Madara, but he only managed that after he left the clan didn't he?

Did Konoha really just go full racism (because they were halfway there) against the Uchiha without any proof? they were right in the end, but honestly i think it's their fault for not attempting to retrieve Obito's body so screw them

2) Was Obito's attack on Kushina a genuine attempt on extracting the Kyuubi?

The order of events are a bit weird but I don't think Nagato summoned the Gedo Mazo at the time of Naruto's birth, so was Obito just gonna sit on the Kyuubi until then? It was the best time to attack and he dealt a big blow against Konoha, but what was the plan after that?

3)Was the Uchiha Massacre part of the plan by Madara and/or Obito, or was it just a side venture?

In one hand, the order came from Konoha. In the other, Obito definitely knew what was going to happen after doing something only an Uchiha has done before.

Could Obito have consciously implicated the Uchiha with the Kyuubi attack?

They had not a single shred of evidence that someone within the clan controlled the Kyuubi, they based their theory of an Uchiha monitoring its actions upon their prior knowledge of Madara’s capacity to control it; they decided that the possibility of one of them incurring in such behavior was enough to move the entirety of the clan to the outskirts of the village, reinforcing their surveillance via Anbu. They weren’t “right in the end” because their suspicions implied that an individual/group within the clan orchestrated the attack, and Obito operated from outside it and Konoha. It was the government's actions against the Uchiha, supported by these unfounded suspicions, that gave Madara (and not even to the man himself but to his mistrust, passed on by word of mouth after his desertion) enough supporters inside the family, who started to voice complains about their mistreatment and sought change –diplomatically at first. Itachi learned prior to their massacre that there was, in fact, someone who presented himself as Madara lurking in the village’s borders, a founder that the clan itself turned against when he wanted to leave the village, Itachi either conveniently kept such information until after the UCM or the Elders willingly ignored such data, choosing to solve their diplomatic struggles with one of the founder’s clan by massacring them entirely. Itachi even sought Obito’s help to kill his family, further proving that he knew “Madara” operated outside the clan and Konoha, as he was willing to kill those who “turned his back to him.”

Yes, Obito planned to extract the Kyubi and break havoc in the village (he summoned the Kyuubi upon Rin’s grave, that should tell you a lot of his reasoning), I’m not sure if he planned to seal the Kyuubi inside someone specifically for harvesting it after more easily, or if he wanted it to roam free until he could use Nagato’s eyes to summon the Gedo Mazo (using it in the meantime). Likely his plan was hardly thought through, as he gained information about Kushina giving birth by spying on Kakashi, so he knew the seal that kept Kurama inside her was to weaken due to her condition. He even became far more patient after Kyuubi’s attack, so perhaps he was mostly impulsive and was able to tame his emotions far better after such an experience.

I believe that the massacre, while not part of the original plan, became an important aspect of their ultimate goal, as by killing the Uchiha, Obito guaranteed that there would be few Sharingan-wielders that could compromise their plan. Obito’s logic was that no matter what he did in the real world, nothing of it would have any say in the IT universe, as everything can be undone or modified at his will.

Could Obito have consciously implicated the Uchiha with the Kyuubi attack?

No, I don't think he did it consciously, after all, he didn't make sure someone outside Minato knew of his implication in the matter, that was something that happened outside his control.

[bithablu]

Bridgerton, Colin Bridgerton

Stop me if you've read this before but I've got a theory about Colin's time on the continent. I don't think he was just fuckboi-ing his way through Europe. I think he was working for the crown. The Napoleonic Wars were still going on and I'm sure the war office (or whatever it was called then) wouldn't hesitate to use a charming third son of a prominent family to gather intel.

You have to admit, 17 cities was excessive for a 4 month trip. With all the travel time involved, Colin wouldn't have much time to get settled, let alone bored, with a place before running off to the next city. Not to mention, the only person he tells exactly how many places he visited was Penelope. When his family asks him where he's been (during the gifts giving scene), Colin just smiles enigmatically and doesn't respond. But, judging by the gifts, he's been in or near Spain, France, Italy, Switzerland? (Violet's watch), and Bavaria? (Eloise's book).

What caught my attention was that Anthony was surprised that Colin had been to both Spain and France (not to mention everywhere else). You would think that he would have gotten some kind of notification as to where Colin's funds were being directed- even with BennyBoy taking over the Viscount duties during the honeymoon. But Anthony has no clue; which makes me wonder where Colin was getting enough money to travel that extensively and quickly. I theorize that much of Colin's travels were funded by the crown. They would have local funds in various places for him to access and they would be able to pay for the costs of the faster travel (fresh horses, boatman overtime fees, yadda yadda).

The 'Man of Mystery' attitude seemed like a dramatic change as well. Yes, Penelope was the only one to take an interest in his previous travels, but Colin seemed remarkably tight lipped about where he had been and what he had been up to. Even when asked directly, he deflected or ignored the question entirely. It makes me wonder if that 'Charm can be taught' line wasn't all he was taught. Perhaps he also learned manipulation and information gathering as well.

One last thing (for now): Colin's ever changing appearance. His Parisian presentation day outfit was clearly French inspired but his other outfits seemed indicative of other locations as well. This idea is probably better left to people who pay attention to historical garb but, to a historical clothing layman, the vibe of his clothes changed considerably. The outfit and hairstyle Colin had when he met Pen under the weeping willow tree seemed Spanish to me (I fully accept that I could be totally wrong though), his horse printed waistcoat (that he worse while staring out the window after the news came out that he was helping Pen) made me think of Poland, and the striped vest (hot air balloon scene when he distracted Pen (almost to death) with his forearms) gave off an Italian feel. Did Colin just like to sample sartorial styles or were they costumes to help him fit in?

In summation, I think Colin Bridgerton spent his time on the continent being a baby-spy for the government. I also think he's going to use this as a way to get Pen out of trouble when she gets exposed for being Lady Whistledown.

[skylarmoon71]

Patrick Jane (Mentalist) - Chapter 3

It took a little bit of convincing on Jane’s part. There was still so much that needed to be discussed. But you knew you couldn’t avoid work for more than a week. So for the remaining days of your little vacation you try to evaluate all that you’ve learned and your mind trails back to Jane. 

“I can help you.” 

With an obnoxious laugh you just turn your head at his words. 

“Yeah, and I should trust you why? You almost outed me.” 

“That’s because I thought you were a spy or a terrorist.” 

You send him a look and he smirks. 

“Okay maybe I didn’t but I knew it was something big. If you did turn out to be dangerous I think they deserved to be warned.” 

You sigh. 

You can’t exactly be mad at him for that. You might have done the same. Surely you would have gone about it differently. 

“How exactly are you going to help me?” 

“No idea.” 

Your glare speaks volumes. 

“I’m not exactly an expert but you said it yourself. I’m the only one who’s able to hear you. So it goes without saying that I’m the only one that can help.” 

In some crazy way that almost makes sense. 

“What do you say?”

“It’s not like I have a choice.” You run a hand through your head. 

“Why the hell did my captain have to be such a great guy?” You grumble.

Jane is just smiling at you with a thumbs up. 

There’s nothing encouraging about that infuriating man, but he’s right. You can’t run away. That would raise every flag in the book. You have to face this. The alternative is being suspected of some heinous crime or disappointing your former captain who spoke so highly of your abilities. You can’t let him down. 

You’re not surprised when Jane comes to visit on your last day of relaxation. He was standing at the door with a smile and a little wave. Something about his face just made you want to punch it. 

“You were thinking about punching me in the face weren’t you?” 

“No.” 

“Yes, you were. It’s all over your face.” 

You let him in, rolling your eyes. Sometimes it really does feel like he’s the mind reader. 

“Lisbon told me to check in on you.” 

“No she didn’t. She probably told you to stay far away from me.” 

“Oh, you got me. Guilty as charged.” 

Dropping onto the couch you just direct your gaze at the wall. Jane really does have a tendency to push people’s buttons, but as of right now he’s the only one who knows about your secret and he hasn’t reported you to the government or called you crazy. You should be happy. 

Your eyes move to the door to address the topic of your return but he’s not there. 

“Jane?” 

He walks out from the kitchen with a cup of tea and a smile. 

“What the- how the hell did you make that so fast!” 

“You’ve been staring at the wall for about five minutes. I figured I’d make myself at home.” 

This man was obviously put on the planet to be a nuisance.

“If you really didn’t want the job why did you bother taking it?” 

You just fold your arms at his question. 

“Because Captain Haynes went out on a limb for me. I can’t let him down.” 

“He raised you.” 

Your arms slowly unfold and you look at your lap. 

“He looked after me. The only reason I’m a cop is because of him. He’s the first person who’s ever helped me without wanting anything in return but my success.” 

Jane seems inquisitive.

“You’ve read his mind before.”

You nod, a bit ashamed. 

“It was once back when he made me do community service at the precinct when I was in high school. I got caught stealing from a grocery store. The owner agreed to drop the charges if I apologized and said that I learned my lesson. Captain told the owner that was too lenient. He made me work at that place for months. He said that if I didn’t show up he’d throw me in a cell.” 

Jane can’t help but laugh because it was obviously a bluff. You smile at the sound.

“I was used to people trying to take advantage of me. One night I was there with him late. He called me into his office and I was ready. Ready for him to proposition me. I wanted to hear it. To prove that there were no more good people in the world. I grabbed his arm. I still remember those words.” 

“You’re smart. You can be great if you apply yourself. I wish you didn’t have such a tough life, kid.” 

You would never forget that.

“I was so shocked that I’d started crying right there and then. It was the first time I’d heard something good in someone’s head. Turns out the only reason he called me in there was to threaten me to stop skipping classes. He wanted me to join a sports team and try to get a scholarship. He had a whole presentation and everything lined up. He was going to keep threatening me with time in jail to get me to stay on the straight and narrow.” 

It’s funny how you’d been so oblivious to how much he’d just wanted to offer a hand. 

“He was the first man in my life that I could depend on, I could trust. I knew he sent in the application because he thought I was clinging unto him. Sticking to his side out of loyalty. He didn’t want me to limit my ability because of any obligation.” 

Jane was beginning to see the bigger picture.

“There were times that I wanted to tell him, I really did. But the thought of him thinking I’m crazy, or ever looking at me differently it would hurt too much.”

He can only imagine. 

“I never thought I’d tell anyone.” 

But now, Jane out of all the people knows. 

“I won’t betray that trust.” 

Maybe he reads it on your face. You just offer a smile. Jane is unpredictable as hell, so you've already prepared yourself.

[jnnul]

jaanu's tumblr wrapped

general stats!

total words written (only released fics) - 60,821 words (avg. 3.5k words per fic)

total fics released - 17 fics

total groups/people written for - 4 groups (17 people total)

total wips left - 8 fics (2/10 completed)

total songs recs - 24 songs

total fic recs - 10 fics

top fics this year (by the numbers)!

ric flair drip (jaehyun - nct)

ready for love (jeno - nct)

five questions (mark - nct)

things he reminds me of (nct dream)

'i love you' (enhypen)

fics i loved writing the most (and three words/phrases for how i feel abt them)!

ric flair drip - cathartic. eye opening. midnight blue.

things he reminds me of - aesthetics. how i see the world. types of beauty.

nct dream in college - fun. silly. close to home.

your love is my favorite color (enhypen) - learning through love. choices. part two?

a phone that won't ring (minji - newjeans) - acceptance. hurt. comfort.

fics i loved reading this year (fic rec blog ver.)!

i've waffled a little too much abt how much i love these fics on my fic rec blog (although, honestly i think they deserve even more praise) so similar to above, i'm just going to put three words that i feel describes the fic/how i felt reading the fic/the type of love in the fic.

cherry girl (jaemin - nct) - @tyonfs - realistic. omg! modern romance.

the v week spy (jaehyun - nct) - @smileysuh - the best type of campy. what a plot! surprisingly innocent.

sweet cream, cold brew (mark - nct) - @lucyandthepen - here comes the boy. what a sweetheart. go getter or go get her?

the kids are going to be alright (s.coups - svt) - @wondernus - mistakes & memories. me too, honestly. love conquers all.

besties gone sexual (jaemin - nct) - @tyonfs - how did they not realize? ahh, that's why. situationship meets best friends.

people i loved talking to and my faves works from them!

@m-arkmywords (zo 🐨) - omg my first moot! you made me feel so happy and comfortable to come back to this app. you're such an incredibly talented artist and writer (and best supplier of stoner!mark in town) and i'm so glad i got to speak and learn from/abt you these year! (fav - strawberry sorbet)

@sungie (drew 🐥) - the single most sweet person i know! you're incredibly talented and so much fun to talk to. you always carry yourself with such bright and positive energy that it's almost infectious through the screen and i'm almost always smiling when i see you come across my dash. (fav - how the genshin characters love)

@hanlimz (cass 🐑) - a government assigned cutie patootie, honestly. your jungwon hours (open 24/7) are so cute to watch and you're such an easy person to talk to! your energy is always so soft and welcoming and idk how you do it but you're always so incredibly relatable? (fav - midnight thoughts)

@mingyuonthemoon (moon 🐻) - THE mingyu girlie. you've always got the best taste in music, writing, and men; i aspire to be like you. you give writers so much energy and encouragement in their work and you're such a talented writer yourself (even if you don't reveal it) and are always so sweet!

@haespoir (mia 🦋) - the funniest person ever omg. you're so incredibly witty and the way that you write the different nct members is so funny and yet relatable. still somewhat convinced that you're haechan in disguise (have you ever seen mia and haechan in the same room?) (fav - bf!jaehyun)

@nyxvrse (nyx 🐯) - also the sweetest person ik! iconic on another level and also the social butterfly of the century. if paris hilton had a direct reincarnation, it might be you bc of the sheer amount of serving you both do. super sweet, easy to talk to, and also occasionally pop by to brighten my day w smth sweet in the inbox!

@lelengerine (lua 🦚) - i was so excited to meet you bc you were my first '04 friend and also you are SO incredibly talented at writing! i was over the moon when i found out that your blog was recommended similar to mine bc your writing actually makes me feel the feels when i read it! (fav - waiting)

@smileysuh (nova 🦁) - another brilliant writer omg! i remember going through a psychological evolution when i write v day week spy and am, to this day, attached to jaehyun from that fic. your writing always serves so hard and you write the characters themselves in such a way that it's hard not to fall in love w them! (fav - sunday kind of love)

@ohmygs-blog (bae 🦊) - like another one of the most iconic people ik tbh. your text fics always serve so hard and i might actually be developing parasocial feelings for jaemin bc of the way you write him. lowk also i could see the dreamies act texting the way you write them and you also might be jisung in disguise idk (fav - jealous fwb!dreamies)

@polarisjisung (hua 🦢) - we may be the same age but you are still my bb gurl! so sweet, so elegant, and so intelligent. you're my fellow stem sufferer and just such a good person in general and i can't imagine 2023 w/o you! you also have an amazing taste in music and we're so similar that i'm half-convinced that we're secretly twins! (fav - makeup, make-out)

@jammingjaem (lex 🐶) - actually freaked my shit when i found out you were filo bc you were responding to someone in filo and i swear i have the fattest crush on you. you also may or may not have invented the clean girl agenda (with the journaling esp!) and you always seem so sweet and put together omg. can't wait to get to know you better in 2024! (fav - bf!jeno)

[jackdaw-and-hattrick]

Slipping

Ao3

Prev

Damien was not proud to say that, when he first heard the noise, he had been baffled at what it could be. It was beautiful, strung together and structured with all the planned grace of his favorite sword. It was not until the women started singing that he realized that what he had been listening to was music. Sure, he understood in theory what music was, had been taught the word and understood the basic principles that governed it, but he was an assassin. There was no reason for him to need music, and so like all superfluous things Damien had simply never been exposed to it. Nor had he ever sought it out. Still, he found himself being drawn forward

Before him was a stage much like those he’d seen in photos of old theater houses, the bright overhead lights casting a down in strange colors with no name. At the center of the stage was a woman. She wore odd clothing resembling a superhero costume, though without any identifiable armor, and her face was painted with swirls of black that differed from any makeup he’d ever seen. She had the look of anyone of this realm. Her skin was mottled and hair burned a phosphorus blue, eyes glowing like the Lazarus pits. Damien did not recognize the instrument in her hands, but the sound it made was… enchanting. From his place in the empty audience, Damien found himself swaying ever so slightly.

“Little boy

Why are you here?

So far from the world you hold dear

Oh kid

Quite your spying

Don’t you know you are dying?

Does your mother know

You’re playing with ghosts?

Does your father see

Your liminality?”

“So you finally got a new song?”

A soft hand hand lands on his shoulder and Damien starts. He doesn’t remember the last time someone snuck up on him like that. He looks at the person who so rudely interrupted the performance. Phantom stares at the woman on the stage with something resembling anger.

“What? You like it Babypop?”

“That’s KING Babypop to you, Ember.”

The woman, Ember, laughs. Phantom’s grip tightens and Damien hears a low growl radiating from his chest. He glances down, the worry radiating from him like heat from the noon day sun.

“Hey,” Phantom says, “you wandered off. Everything good?”

Damien stiffens; it suddenly occurred to him he may in fact have done something wrong by leaving on his own without any sort of warning to follow the ephemeral melody.

“Yes. I was merely listening to the music. She is very good, I’ve never heard anything so lovely.”

“Don’t tell her that, she’ll never let me hear the end of it.” Phantom grinned. He glanced back to Ember, clearly calculating what to say next. “Do you want to keep listening?”

Damien nodded mutely. Ember took this as her cue to begin playing again. Phantom took him by the hands and began guiding him closer to the stage.

“Do you know how to dance?”

“No”

“Would you like to learn?”

“I can’t see what possible purpose it could have.”

“Absolutely none.” He said, pulling Damien around so that they where face to face, “here, stand on my feet”

“Will that not hurt?”

“I’m a lot sturdier than I look.”

Damien followed his instructions and Phantom guided him through the basic steps of what he would later learn was called a waltz. They stayed like that, stepping and spinning to the melody for the better part of the day. Occasionally Ember would switch up the tempo, and Phantom would have to show him new steps, until finally he stepped back and began dancing on his own.

“Come on,” he encouraged, “Don’t worry about the form, just follow the melody, same as before.”

“I am not yet ready.”

Phantom smile, a sort of boundless sorrow hidden just beneath the surface.

“No one ever is.”

…………………………..…………………………..………………

To say Dick Greyson was nervous would be the understatement of the century. If asked why, Dick would probably be hard pressed to explain why the thought of meeting his second brother’s new partner was as absolutely nerve wracking as it was, although he was fairly sure it had something to do with the fact B seemed to be dead set on treating this as an interrogation. Not even the standard well meaning but ultimately misled, “explain everything about yourself and if I get so much as a hint you’re not good for him they’ll never find the body”, type interrogation. No, an actual, criminal interrogation. To be fair, given he was dating Jayling, the odds were Danny was involved in at least some sort of criminal activity, but that was to be expected. Probably not a great way of thinking for a cop, but so long as he kept out of Bludhaven; not his monkeys, not his circus.

Really, it wasn’t that Dick didn’t understand why B was acting this way. Danny was, after all, an unknown, something Dick knew his adopted father couldn’t abide in much the same way he couldn’t abide sunlight and injustice. If they could just find something, anything that told them this guy had a life prior to coming to Gotham than maybe he would feel less like a threat. As it was, even Dick had to admit he was antsy. Still, he had to respect the skill with which Danny had so far avoided their questions. He could see what Little wing saw in this guy.

That was it really. Jay bird saw something in this guy and for all his anxiety and suspicion, Dick still respected that. If anything, this proved to make him more nervous. Jas was flighty. Getting him to agree to do anything with the family was an uphill battle of mammoth proportions generally only achieved by the likes of Alfred, but he had agreed to bring Danny to dinner so they could meet him. Moreover, he had agreed to come to the manor specifically. Dick couldn’t remember the last time he’d come here without actively bleeding out. Dick wasn’t so self centered to think Jayjay was coming back just for little old him. This was because they had been harassing Danny and he wanted it to stop. Of course, if it had just been that they would have just met on a rooftop, so Jay must honestly want Danny to meet his family and see his childhood home, and wasn’t that terrifying. It felt as if Dick were walking on egg shells, knowing a single wrong step could be the end of whatever faith he had put in them.

There was another, deeper fear that they would, somehow, scare Danny away entirely. They weren’t exactly the easiest people to deal with, long term. Jas deserved people; to feel loved and wanted in a way he understood and reciprocated. He would never forgive them if they took that away from them. Moreover, Dick would never forgive himself. It boiled his blood that B was willing to put all of that at risk to calm his fears.

This is why, when the knock finally came, Dick found himself quite literally tripping over himself trying to get to the door. Luckily, his training kept him from landing all that hard, and with a quick forward motion he rolled himself back to his feet. By this time Alfie had, of course somehow beaten him to the door despite definitely being in the kitchen mere moments ago. There in the door frame, standing next to his wonderful baby bird, who looked about ready to punch someone, was the man Dick knew must be Danny. It occurred to him suddenly that he had never seen him up close before, given that all cameras seemed to be unable to get a good image of him. Besides his obvious adoption bait traits (Dick was probably going to have to have a TALK with B later), he looked… well… he looked odd, but not in a way that immediately made sense. He was thin, sure, upsettingly so and it took all the self control bestowed by his Robin training not to pick him up and take him straight to the dining room, but his skeletal frame wasn’t it, not exactly. There was something to him, to the sharpness of his teeth when he smiled, the fluid bend of his limbs and neck as if  unimpeded by joints or bones, the absolute depth of his eyes and the silence of his steps that seemed terribly wrong and absolutely familiar. He reminded him of Dami.

See, Dick Greyson was a lot of things; an acrobat; ex-boy wonder, current detective-extraordinaire; eldest daughter syndrome poster boy; and easily the hottest Wayne; but for all his acting, he was not an idiot. He may not be a genius on the level of, say, Tim, and he still didn't get how Cass did her whole “definitely not mind-reading” bit, but he had experience. He was bright in his own right, and he knew his family, maybe better than they knew themselves. When Dami first came to the manor, back when they were strangers and his threats meant something, he’d been… feral. Dams was still feral, but he’d improved; he’d become more human, less… whatever else he was that led him to hiss and bite and scratch with claws too sharp to be human. Whatever made the air around him so oppressive when he was angry or frightened. At first, Dick had assumed he was a meta of some kind, but a quick genetic panel (and what a thought that the idea of running and reading a genetic analysis had become so straightforward he could probably do it in his sleep) had shown that, besides the honesty concerning levels of Lazarus water in his system, there was nothing which he could see that would make him anything but a standard human. He’d asked Dami before, but he’d only said he was “the son of Batman and heir of Al Ghul, of course his steps were silent and his movements fluid,” completely ignoring the rest of his concerns. Dick hadn’t pushed. It wasn’t his place. As long as he was safe and happy, Dami could keep whatever weird-kid secrets he pleased. Then Danny hugged him, and Dick wondered if maybe this was his concern after all.

The dining room they moved into was not the private one usually used for these dinners but the great one reserved for parties. Dick rolled his eyes. Of course, B would insist on this room. Intimidation was key, apparently. Dick wondered when precisely the others were planning on arriving. Being late was not unusual in this family, much to Alfred’s eternal displeasure, but keeping Jayling and B from going for each other’s throats was becoming increasingly difficult. Having more people wouldn’t necessarily help, but it would spread out the attention. Dick wished B would kindly take a hint and back off. He didn't like something in the way Danny and Jay were acting. It felt too familiar. Too much like the way he acted when trying to keep his siblings from learning something he knew would inevitably hurt them; the dodging, misdirecting, and a look of absolute fear he had suppressed almost every day for the last ten-odd years. They knew something, and whatever it was, Dick was willing to bet his last box of cereal it was about Dami. So when he asked how exactly Jas and Danny had met, it had less to do with his own genuine curiosity and more to do with changing the subject right now.

“Ancients,” Danny started, “I’m pretty sure the first time we met was… the auto shop?”

…………………………..…………………………..………………

It was pitch black out when Jason arrived at the shop. He’d heard about it in the usual way, words whispered in dark corners amongst people with downturned eyes and who spoke in quiet voices. The building itself was unassuming, located at the very edge of Crime Alley where the city began to fall away. The worn bricks were painted with graffiti; strange and winding shapes of no recognizable language or culture. Jason couldn't help but feel that if he just stared long enough, he could read the messages left there facing the street. There was a neon green sign above the door. It read,

“ Vehicles, appliances, and more!

You break it, I can fix it!”

Something about the color reminded him unavoidably of a certain toxic pit. Jason did his best to shake that off. He needed to be here. See, the word on the street was that the sign didn’t pull any punches, that the Mechanic, as he’d come to be known, really could fix anything you could break, be it mechanical, medical, mental, or even spiritual. His next-door neighbor, Synthia, claimed he’d helped her with her “ghost problem,” fixed her stove, and saved her house plants to boot. The man on the corner selling samosas said he’d ended his nightmares, which he’d had every night for the past thirty years. One lady even claimed he cured her cancer. All of the stories had two things in common. One, there was a young man they called the Mechanic with dark hair and blue eyes. In Gotham, that wasn't exactly much to go off of, given the city’s disproportionate number of people fitting that description. The second bit was more interesting. People said that the Mechanic used a kind of barter system. You could pay cash for most things, but if you either couldn't afford it or the service was particularly unusual, he’d ask for other things. Favors, mostly, sometimes stories or promises. Even trinkets, if that was all you could afford. The general consensus seemed to be that he preferred things with strong emotional connections. Folks seemed split on whether this guy was an angel or the devil.

Even the building itself was suspicious. For all the wear and tear apparent, he had it on good authority it hadn’t existed until about three months ago. There was no paperwork for the lot, no signs of an owner, and no records for the business itself. Hell, the place didn't even show up on Google Maps. The whole deal screamed illegality. So, a building that didn’t exist, a business with no name, and an owner who was apparently a miracle man. It had been a pain in the ass to find the place. Jason didn't know how he had gotten lost in this town where he’d lived almost all of his life.

There were no hours on the door, but when he turned the knob he found it unlocked. The door creaked loudly.

“Huh, guess he can’t fix everything after all.”

“Maybe I just like it that way.”

Jason started. Maybe he was getting rusty because he had been absolutely sure the room was empty. That or the man in front of him could just walk more quietly than any Bat besides maybe Cass. He certainly fit the description of the Mechanic, however vague it may be. Messy black hair, silver-blue moon eyes. He was... Beautiful. Etherial. He looked like the kind of guy people wrote poems about. When he walked, he moved with the grace of a dancer. He didn't look like a mechanic, but his skin and clothes were stained with motor oil.

“Long time no see,” the man smiled.

“I’m sorry, do I know you?”

“Guess not,” he said. His voice was comforting, like the sound of old cartoons playing in the next room on a rainy day. The guy could make a killing as an ASMR YouTuber. “What can I do for you?”

“I,” Jason knew his story, but part of him was struggling with the feeling that he was betraying an old friend, “I wreaked my bike.”

“Ok, I can fix that.”

“What’s your price?”

“For you? Hmm...” He tapped his chin with a long clawlike nail. Jason couldn’t imagine how he kept his nails so long while working with machines. “How ‘bout... Lunch.”

“Lunch?”

“I don't have to stay around or anything, just drop off some food when you come back for your bike and we’ll call it even.”

“You realize we’re talking about a good $750 repair job at least, right? We’re not just talking about an oil change.”

“I know.”

“Why?”

“I live in Crime Alley, pretty sure that means I already owe you my life.” the man’s grin widened, his eyes sparkling, “Or well, whatever it is I’m doing”

Jason snorted.

“Trust me, you don’t owe me shit.”

“Don't I get a say in that?”

“Alright, fine, be indebted if you want. Free bike repair for me. What do you want to eat?”

“As long as it’s dead by the time it gets here, I couldn't care less.”

“That’ll make two of us.”

“Three.”

The man’s eyes flashed a familiar green, and Jason braced himself for an attack but none came. Looking at him, Jason saw none of the anger he associated with that color. If anything, he looked... Sad.

“Who are you?”

“The name’s Phantom, but most folks here know me as Danny Nightengale.”

“What? Your real name say a bad word?”

“Guess you could say that.”

Jason left after that, but he came back the next day. He brought empanadas, which they ate together on the sidewalk just outside. The work on the bike was a masterpiece, especially given the time it took. Jason came back again later. And again. And again.

“My fridge’s busted and won't stop making ice.”

“There’s a mole in my gang and I’m not sure who it is.”

“My helmet broke.”

“I got shot.”

“My head hurts.”

“My heart hurts.”

His reply was always the same.

“Ok, I can fix that.”

The next time Jason came to the shop (he still didn't know the name) it was sunset, he was covered in blood, both his and not, and all he could see was green. Tear tracks cut through the red. He threw his helmet to the wayside where it sent a precarious stack of papers flying.

“Hey, Hood. Long time no see.”

Danny looked how he always did. If he noticed the blood, he didn’t show it.

“What can I do for you?”

“Please,” Jason begged, “It’s the Pits, I...”

He fell to his knees, body shaking from the force of silent sobs.

“...I just want to be ok.”

Danny dropped down next to him, cupped his face so gently as if he might just break, and did his best to wipe away his tears, with the corner of his sleeve. Jason cried harder. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone has held him so carfully. Had they ever?

“Ok”

Then Danny plunged his hand into Jason’s chest. He froze, the cold sensation of clawed hands grasping at his very soul shocking him to his core. It was unlike anything he’d felt before, and as quickly as it started it was over. Danny pulled back. Grasped in his hands was a writhing black mass, like earthworms fat from eating their kin. Then he opened his mouth, much wider than any human ever could, and Jason watched in horror as he ate it whole and struggling. Then Danny cupped his hands together, a strange green liquid that looked horribly like the Lazarus Pits, if a bit brighter and not bubbling angrily the way they should, filling them. He plunged his hands and the liquid back into Jason’s chest, though this time he could only feel a vague tingling chill.

“What the Hell?”

Jason wasn’t sure how else to react to what he had just seen.

“This,” Danny said, indicating with a nod to his hands, still very much in Jason’s chest cavity, “is pure ectoplasm. It should help clear out the last of the corruption. Think of it like dialysis; I clear out the bad stuff and replace it with something clean.”

“What corruption?”

“The corrupted ectoplasm in your system? I’m pretty sure that was clouding your head and messing with your emotions.”

“You... Got rid of the Pits. You... Ate them.”

Jason wasn’t sure how to process this.

“I guess? A rose by any name and all that.”

He withdrew his hands. Suddenly Jason felt very empty. Emotionally, he was drained, and he was pretty sure he was still in shock from what had just happened, but more than that, Jason’s head was uncharacteristically quiet. There was no rush of blood, no bubbling murmur corrupting his thoughts, no green tinting the corners of his vision. It was just... Him. A cool rag touched his face. At some point, Danny must have stood up and gotten a damp washcloth to clean the blood. When had that happened? Golden sunlight streamed in from the glass door, casting soft shadows and making a moon of Danny’s face, his pale skin glowing in the reflection of the setting sun.

“Who are you?”

“Danny Phantom, remember? You know me.”

“No,” Jason paused, “I mean, what are you?”

“What are you?”

Jason wasn’t sure how to answer that. A dead kid with daddy issues and a gun fixation? A ghost of Robins’ past? A zombie? A fucking mess? Suddenly, a blinding light haloed Danny, spreading from his middle and passing over him. When his vision finally cleared, he saw Danny, greyed skin and vibrant green eyes haloed by glowing white hair which floated as if unbound by gravity. He looked like an angel. Something untouchably beautiful and impossibly holy. He smiled, and his teeth were as long and sharp as a deep sea predator.

“I’m a halfa.”

“What does that even mean?”

“Honestly? Not much. It's sorta a slang term for someone who's both alive and dead.”

“How does that work?”

“Well sometimes I’ve got one foot in the grave, and sometimes I’ve got the other foot outta it.”

“Is that what I am?”

“Not quite. As far as I can tell, you’re a revenant.”

“And here I thought I was just a plain old zombie.”

“Oh trust me, if you were a zombie, you’d know.”

“How do you know all of this?”

“It's kinda my job.”

“I wasn’t aware a working knowledge of the undead was a requirement for mechanics.”

“What can I say? I’m just good at what I do.”

“Speaking of which,” Jason said, “any idea what I owe you for literally giving me back my sanity?”

“Ancients... I don’t know.”

“I’ve got an idea... How about...”

They both paused, Danny halting what he was doing to listen to what Jason had to say, the rag in his hand now thoroughly saturated with blood, harsh red against snow white. Jason wasn’t sure what it said about him that he found the sight of his blood on his hands so attractive, but damn. Before he had time to think about it, Jason peeled his sweat-soaked leather gloves from his fingers and took those ivory hands in his. God, they were cold. It was like holding ice. If he kissed him, would his lips freeze to his skin? Would they ever come apart, or would they stay connected forever? Jason was starting to suspect he might be a little hysterical from shock and exhaustion.

“My heart.”

“...What?”

“You gave me my head, let me give you my heart.”

Danny opened and shut his mouth, gaping like a fish seemingly at a loss for words.

“You don't have to do that.”

“No,” Jason said, “no I don't. Hell, the truth is I’m ripping you off if you accept, ‘cause I’d just be paying you something that's already yours.”

“Ok,” Danny nodded.

“Deal?”

“Yeah, deal.”

It wasn’t clear who moved first, but the two met in a kiss. Sharp teeth knicked Jason’s lips, soothed by cool saliva. Danny’s hands, so frail looking, gripped his wrists as unyielding as iron cord. Overhead, the electric light flared, popped, and burned out. The sun had long since set, and the only light was Danny’s otherworldly glow. They sat there for a long time, neither speaking. Finally, they got up and together stepped into the rest of their afterlives.

…………………………..…………………………..………………

“Oh,” Dick asked, “you work in an auto shop?”

“Well, sorta,” Danny shrugged, “It's my shop. I’ll fix up just about anything, but yeah, I get a lot of cars and bikes.”

“Babe, calling what you do “repairs” is like calling Supes a pencil sharpener.”

Danny waved his hand dismissively.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

By then, Alfred had served the salad course, making the rest of the siblings officially late. Danny eyed the salad, a rose vinaigrette with summer greens, as if expecting it to bite. Dick couldn’t help feeling personally offended on behalf of Alfie’s cooking. Finally, after poking it a couple of times with his fork, Danny seemed to decide it was in fact edible and began eating with the speed and ferocity of someone starving. Watching him, Dick couldn’t help but feel deeply uncomfortable as Danny unhinged his jaw and consumed the salad without chewing. There was something almost… predatory in it. Looking closely, he swore his tongue was split.

To his left, B watched with wrapped attention, his eyes steely and stern, building fear and distrust building behind his standard mask of stoicism. On his right, Damien seemed utterly unaffected. If anything, he seemed almost cheerful, listening to Danny talk about his job, his school work, and all the dull details which come with any life. He had a pet dog named Cujo; his older sister had just started her own psychology practice—tiny details which did nothing to explain the bone-deep discomfort permeating the air. Danny, for his part, was animated. He spoke with an effervescent energy that felt almost unreal. Jayjay sat back, occasionally throwing in a smart comment with no bite but mostly seeming content to watch. It was nice seeing his brash and bullheaded brother so comfortable. The usual anger which seemed so ever-present was absent. Dick didn't know how to cope with that. Danny was disturbing. Still, he made his beloved brothers so happy, and the contradiction ate him alive.

Throughout the meal, siblings began to filter in. Duke was the first to arrive, followed by Steph, Cass, Barbra, and finally, Tim. Each would introduce themself, take their seat, and find themselves slowly introduced to the madness that was Danny’s existence. He had this odd habit of saying the most baffling, concerning things Dick had heard in his life. Honestly, that alone was an achievement to be proud of. He watched as his siblings shared glances, seemingly trying to figure out whether this guy was for real. Duke, in particular, was staring Dick dead in the eye as if daring him to stand up and yell, “Sike!”. The only exception seemed to be Cass, who, much like Damien and Jason, was apparently unaffected, even cheerful. It seemed like the most screwed-up members of the family were the ones most comfortable with this strange man, and it was starting to paint a harrowing picture. Dick had to ask himself, what made them different? What set those three apart from the rest of them? He thought he might know the answer, and he hoped to God he was wrong.

After all, if he was right, what would it mean that this guy seemed like catnip for the previously deceased?

Tag cultists

@mur-ururu @krzys2000 @soren1830 @fisticuffsatapplebees @emergentpanda-blog @heirxofxtime @plotwholls @phoenixdemonqueen @avalnfear @historyboiiiiii @rangerhorsetug @zgirlxy @mistrfuzzles @thegreawizards @aroranorth-west west @emeraldcorpral @the-archer-goddess @gin2212 @undead-essence @eleiteranger @bianca-hooks123 @currant-owo @angelartist @theauthorandtheartist @aroranorth-west @wackyattack @mygood-bitch99 @apolloofthenight @mnemovoid @ever-changing-weirdo-3100 @readerzj @nappinginhell @luckykittens198 @autumnrosnor @pastalavistamf @overtherose

[kaija-rayne-author]

Why do people feel Solas has betrayed everyone?

I see a lot of impassioned reactions about him that consistently label his actions as betrayal, but none of it actually is?

I dunno if it's because I'm neurodivergent or because I'm an editor and words have actual meanings, or what, but I'm just not seeing it.

Post contains spoilers for DA:I, the books and games.

All definitions from here are taken from Merrium-Webster.

First, some definitions.

NT = Neurotypical

ND = Neurodivergent

Betray:

to lead astray

to deliver to an enemy by treachery

to fail or desert especially in time of need

to reveal unintentionally

Traitor:

one who betrays another's trust or is false to an obligation or duty

one who commits treason

Treason:

the offense of attempting by overt acts to overthrow the government of the state to which the offender owes allegiance or to kill or personally injure the sovereign or the sovereign's family

Treachery:

violation of allegiance or of faith and confidence

Seduce:

to persuade to disobedience or disloyalty

to lead astray usually by persuasion or false promises

to carry out the physical seduction of: entice to sexual intercourse

Action by action, it's really damned confusing to me that so many people label Solas as they do. I'm well used to my favourite characters always being misunderstood, but sheesh.

So, he wakes up from uthenera. He's a bit groggy and doesn't have access to all of his power. As someone who became disabled through illness, it's really obvious to me that he very likely panicked. Coping with a decrease in ability (physical, mental, magical, I doubt the specifics matter much) is horrific. You suddenly and inexplicably can't do what you've always done? That's absolutely panic territory. And because (only because) he thinks he knows what will happen, he allows his orb to be found by the venatori, who then take it to Corypheus.

He can't be delivering something to the enemy at that point. Despite him becoming an enemy, especially to the Inquisitor, neither the Inquisitor nor the Inquisition actually exist yet and Corypheus is not yet the enemy. At that point, Inky is still home, never dreaming something like the events of DA:I will happen to them.

It's rash, foolish, poorly thought out, arrogant... it's a lot of things, it's just not what people usually label Solas with.

Without Coryphifish blowing up the Temple of Sacred Ashes, there wouldn't be an Inquisitor or an Inquisition. It may never have been necessary. In the writing world we call that the 'inciting incident'.

The massive crater in the mountain clues Solas in to the fact that he fucked up.

Instead of running off, he finds whoever is fighting or setting themselves up to fight Corypants.

Solas takes responsibility for the fuck up, owns that he did indeed fuck up, even if it's only to himself, and does everything up to and including giving the Inquisition his home, (if you believe that Skyhold was actually his), to help. (I personally do, the circumstances point to it having been his.)

He supports Inky and the Inquisition even if you royally piss him off in a 'make Solas hate me' run.

He was actually difficult to get to hate me, he's so accepting.

So there's no leading anyone astray, not in any way.

I've pointed out before that he's probably mentally ill and struggling during, at minimum, the first part of Inquisition, but he still does what he can to help.

He doesn't reveal anything unintentionally to anyone, nor has he. Except for maybe all the many many instances of foreshadowing about his identity that he delivers because he really doesn't hide or lie very well at all. It's kinda hilarious when he tries.

Anything he learned that he may/may not use against the Inquisition he learned through observation. So even there, he's not trying to persuade anyone into disobedience or disloyalty. He's not even being disloyal or betraying another's trust, nor is he false to an obligation or duty. Is he spying? Yup! But someone spying isn't automatically betrayal.

We may/may not assume that he's tried to convince people to fight with him, because he does have agents, including double agents, but that's all that is, an assumption. It's never shown.

The only obligations or duties Solas could be disloyal to, especially at the beginning of the game, is his self-imposed obligation to fixing what he broke for the elves.

The world has moved on, developed, and grown through the disaster he created as a way to avoid an even bigger disaster. (The freed Evanuris is described as pretty damned disastrous.) If he did absolutely nothing more than help fix his Coryphifish screw up, it would be, if not admirable, at least understandable. Can you imagine how tired that elf has to be? Even though he just woke up from a millenia long nap?

No one else could really blame him if he just, didn't do it. He's likely one of the very few Elvehnan left. Few if any are going to A) Recognize him or B) Blame him for everything that happened over, at minimum, a thousand years ago. Even Abelas, who you can argue does recognize him (he says Inky's mark/the anchor 'looks familiar') doesn't sock Solas one. Doesn't Abelas say something in response to Solas hoping he'll find a new name with something like 'like you?'

'Yes, like me'. If I recall correctly is Solas's response.

Dude has been fighting for literal ages. He's likely rather sick of it by now. Just defusing his own spell (that created the veil) is the work of actual years according to the story in Tevinter Nights named Dread Wolf Take You. He's probably wishing he'd stayed asleep. I would be.

There's a cut scene that plays every time Inky swears a new agent in.

It's never shown for the original people who created the Inquisition, I doubt that's unintentional. We assume he's taken a vow of loyalty to the Inquisition, but it’s never shown. I take that to mean it never happened. No vow, no betrayal. So, despite people's assumptions, he doesn't actually betray anyone's trust nor is he false to an obligation or duty. The only thing he's false to is other people's assumptions. He's never sworn his allegiance to anyone since he woke up. So he can't very well break that allegiance.

Inky, despite their power, is not a head of state, and they don't have a family other than their clan. Solas never acts against them. The Inquisition is not a government, so he can't actually be accused of treason. Not accurately and fairly, anyway.

In fact, he hasn't yet actually acted against anyone but the qunari and other enemies of the Inquisitor/Inquisition. He's said what he thinks will happen when he pulls down the veil, (world may have to burn line) but just like he had no idea what putting up the veil would do, he has no experience in what taking it down will do. No one does. Just what he thinks is likely, and frankly, the Coryphifish situation clearly shows how wrong Wolfie can be. And he really could have done so much more to help himself while with the Inquisition.

Someone like him doesn't survive possible millennia in Elvehnan without learning how to manipulate people. It's basically something a lot of ND people learn out of a hard wired need to survive. Even though we're constantly dehumanized, we have all the same instincts and needs as any other human-ish type. He could have done so much more to help himself. He didn't.

He doesn't leave until after Corypheus is vanquished. Even as far as assumptions of loyalty go, he wasn't disloyal.

You can argue that he fails or deserts a Romanced Inky in a time of need when he breaks it off with her. But to be frankly honest, Inky has been throwing herself at him basically from the start if you're asking him stuff on a Romance arc. He didn't pursue her, she pursued him. It's honestly not on him if she didn't communicate her expectations for a relationship with him.

You can argue that 'Inky trusted him', but to my world weary perception, all I can say is maybe she should actually, I dunno, get to know someone before trusting them that much? Him telling her stories isn't really the best way to actually understand him. That takes two way communication. And as bad of a liar as he's shown himself to be, if she'd actually gotten to know him, she'd likely have seen through his wet-paper-towel disguise.

So let's address a Romanced Lavellan. Solas actually goes out of his way to not seduce her. His feelings for her are so shocking and fill him with such terror that he breaks up with her. Even when he breaks up with her, his words are 'I've distracted you from your duty'. So he's literally doing the exact opposite of seduction.

As of Trespasser, it's even confirmed that he and Lavellan were never sexually intimate, because 'he wouldn't lay with someone under false pretenses'. That's actually pretty honourable, in my opinion. Many people lie just to get laid, the fact that he does the opposite should probably count for something, shouldn't it?

Ah, but what about Felassan? Nah, that's not a gotcha. We know from Solas's voiced lines and his reaction to Blackwall's revelation that betrayal is anathema to him. 'Betrayal is always worse'.

And even though I love the character, if Felassan was actually working for Solas, (and it's never confirmed by name or even description that he was), he dies for disloyalty. And it's also never confirmed textually or in game that it actually was Solas who killed him. That's another assumption.

Weekes is an absolute master at manipulating people's assumptions.

I don't expect to change people's minds about a fictional game character, feel how you feel about Solas. It's cool. I just love breaking fiction down to analyze it and people's reactions to it. It's fascinating to me.

But y'all need to understand that words means things. I'd suggest that people actually use the words that describe whatever they're feeling accurately. I have alexithymia, please trust me when I say I get how hard it can be to identify and label emotions. It's still worth the effort.

I get that a lot of people feel betrayed by Solas because they assumed things about him, but you're really just annoyed at your assumptions.

Just because someone breaks your heart when no relationship talk has taken place doesn't mean they've betrayed you. A couple of kisses and an admission of love does not a life partnership make.

Not telling people about yourself immediately isn't treasonous. Where in the world is that idea even coming from? It's not anyone's right to know everything about another person. It's rather entitled to say it is. And like, would anyone have actually believed him?

Nope.

'Oh, yeah, uh, I'm this mythical freedom fighter with a really bad rep but um, I'm not really like that?'

Phhhffft.

I really hope it isn't his neurodivergent coding that makes a lot of people dislike him and not give him the benefit of the doubt, but I have an inkling it might be.

Gods know so many people treat living NDs badly. Why not a fictional one?

We do tend to set off the 'uncanny valley' effect in NTs. 'I don't know what it is about that person, but they're just creepy and I don't like them' is often code for 'that person is neurodivergent and bound to be rejected'. But we're just as human as you are.

Thanks for reading!

Hey, if you like my content please consider leaving a tip or becoming a patron. My editing business has suffered from the pandemic and we're living well under the poverty line right now. My work of words is my only income and we have minor kids.

KoFi: http://ko-fi.com/A630KKM

Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/KaijaRayne

Paypal: https://www.paypal.me/KaelanRhy

Amazon Wishlist (general): http://www.amazon.ca/registry/wishlist/3H8AY0GKOU0SE/

Kids' wishlist: https://www.amazon.ca/hz/wishlist/ls/C3LS40BFVFPO/

[themirokai]

The Bell Bird - Chapter 3

You'll need to start with Chapter 1, and then go to Chapter 2.

In this chapter, we learn what sort of help the Bell Bird requires.

Chapter is 2,301 words.

Read it below or on AO3.

~*~

Greg stepped back only when he saw Romer hovering behind Jenny Lindish and felt Mycroft’s hand on his arm. Mycroft stepped around him, walking stick in hand. 

“If you require my assistance, Ms. Lindish, then I believe the conversation should move to a more private venue.” 

Greg looked around. Other audience members were glancing at them, but it was difficult to take one’s eyes off Lindish, even if you didn’t think she was an assassin. 

“I quite agree, Mr. Holmes. I have a suite at the Langham Hotel, which should be suitable.” 

Behind her Romer scoffed, and she turned to look at him, then raised a manicured eyebrow. “Hm, I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.” She looked like she wanted to swallow him whole, but Romer just rolled his eyes. 

“Under the circumstances, it would be better for us to speak at my office, Ms. Lindish,” Mycroft said, pulling her attention back to him. 

Lindish’s smile did not recede, but did seem to freeze. “Am I being detained, Mr. Holmes?” 

Mycroft tipped his head to the side a little: a picture of innocent curiosity. “Whatever would I detain you for, Ms. Lindish?” 

Her expression became serious. “I can assure you that I have never done anything to provoke the British government’s ire.” 

“Excellent.” Mycroft’s smile did not reach his eyes. “Then a cordial conversation at my office will provide no difficulty.” 

Lindish gave a tight-lipped smile and a small nod. 

“I assume you’ll want to change out of that magnificent gown,” Mycroft continued, “and that will give Moon Moth the opportunity to ensure that you are not armed. She and her colleague will bring you to me when you are ready.” 

Lindish turned to Ahmad, her wide smile back. “You’ll be accompanying me to my dressing room, agent?” 

“Yes, and I’d advise against doing anything we’ll both regret,” Ahmad said, her expression bright and predatory in a way Greg had never seen before. 

“Well then, Mr. Holmes,” Lindish said, turning back to Mycroft, “I look forward to continuing the conversation.” She turned to Greg. “Goodbye, Detective Inspector.” She gave a little curtsey, and turned away. 

Outside the theatre a few minutes later, Mycroft sent a text message, and Agent Yang seemed to appear out of thin air, just as Lucy pulled up in the car.  

“Yang, I want you and Wilkinson to stay with Romer and Ahmad,” Mycroft told her. 

Yang frowned. “Sir? That leaves no one else on you. You’re exposed.” 

“I am aware of that. But Simmons is just going to drop Gregory off at the house—” 

“Like hell she is!” Greg cut in. 

“Gregory—” 

“You can’t just pull me into spying and then dump me at the house when it gets interesting!” Greg protested. “I’m invested now. I want to know what she wants. Plus,” Greg ploughed on, ignoring Mycroft’s sour look, “if you’re leaving your security behind, then we are absolutely going straight to your office. Together.” 

Mycroft took a deep breath and gave Greg an evaluating look. “Fine,” he said. “Simmons will take Gregory and I straight to the office, and between the three of us, I am perfectly safe. While I believe the Bell Bird has no ill intentions and would not risk doing anything untoward on British soil, I do want Ahmad and Romer to have backup in case I have read the situation erroneously.”

Yang hesitated, looking from Lucy, to Greg, to Mycroft, then nodded and opened the rear door of the car for them.   

____

When Anthea’s voice came through the intercom in Mycroft’s office to inform them that his guest had arrived, Greg half-perched himself on a windowsill behind and to the side of Mycroft’s desk. Mycroft glanced at him, then told Anthea to send them in. 

The door opened and Ahmad entered, followed by Jenny Lindish and Romer. Romer grinned when he caught sight of Greg and winked at him. 

Lindish was wearing emerald green stilettos, tight dark blue jeans, an emerald silk blouse, and a vibrant purple blazer. Her hair had been restyled to fall in long soft waves, curled at the bottom like a 1950s starlet. She was gorgeous. 

“Please have a seat, Ms. Lindish.” Mycroft gestured to the chairs in front of his desk. 

“Thank you, Mr. Holmes,” she said with a disarming smile as she sat. 

Ahmad and Romer remained standing behind her. 

“Now,” Mycroft said, “how can I help you?” 

Lindish took a deep breath and looked only at Mycroft. “My real name is Jenny Eskalia. My father was David Eskalia.” 

Mycroft’s mouth fell open with a gasp. “Oh. Oh my dear.” He leaned forward. “Of course. You have his eyes. I don’t know how I never noticed before.” 

“My father told me before he died,” she continued, “that if I was ever in trouble that I should come to you and you would help me.”   

Mycroft took a deep steadying breath, and even from the side Greg could tell that his eyes were damp. “Of course. Whatever is in my power.” 

Jenny was about to speak again when Romer jumped in. “Hang on. Who’s David Eskalia?” 

Mycroft glanced at Romer but held eye contact with Jenny as he spoke. “He was an American CIA agent. He saved my life. Twice. He was a good man and a good friend.” Mycroft closed his eyes and shook his head, then looked at Jenny again. “I mourned your father’s death and the fact that I could not do for him what he had done for me. How can I help you?” 

Jenny took a breath and drew herself up. “You’re well aware of my alternate career, otherwise you wouldn’t have sent Moon Moth to monitor me.” 

It wasn’t quite like her stage persona: a presentation, perhaps, instead of a performance, Greg thought. 

“Since I was a girl,” Jenny continued, “my father trained me in the art of spy craft. He wanted me to follow in his footsteps to join the CIA. And for much of my life that’s what I wanted too. He was killed when I was in college and I… I will admit that I used the skills he taught me to ends that he may not approve of.” 

She paused with a worried look at Mycroft. His fingers were steepled in front of his face, and he nodded. Jenny went on. “Once I had eliminated the person who had killed my father, I knew I wouldn’t be able to join the CIA, and I didn’t want to anymore. I liked the freedom of working for myself, and I wanted to pursue singing as well. Singing recitals is not a lucrative career, but as you are aware I supplement my income.”

Romer snorted. “That what you call it?”

Mycroft shot him a stern look and Jenny continued. 

“I can afford to be choosy about my targets. I only eliminate bad people. Crime lords, war lords, torturers, dictators. But the problem is that bad people often have other bad people who are invested in them.”

“It’s almost like being a murderer is complicated,” Romer muttered. 

Jenny ignored him. “A few months ago, I eliminated Eli the Spider, the head of the Silver Drivers.” 

“They’re currently running Las Vegas,” Mycroft said, presumably for Greg’s benefit. 

“Apparently, as part of his bid to seize power, the Spider’s second in command swore that he would have my head. And while the Silver Drivers only control Las Vegas, they also have access to the INS, so I can’t get home without being detected now that the border entries are equipped with the new facial recognition technology. That would be bad enough, but the Silver Drivers have also sent the Black Tornado to hunt me internationally.” 

“What’s the Black Tornado?” Greg asked. 

“An assassin who is much, much scarier than the Bell Bird,” Ahmad said. 

“To put it plainly, Mr. Holmes,” Jenny said, “I am cut off from many of my resources, including my home, I am up against a much more powerful foe and—” she swallowed, blinked hard, her eyes misty, "—and I am scared. I know my profession may be objectionable to you – or at least the fact that I ply it for myself instead of a government – but for the sake of my father I ask you to help me. Please.”

Mycroft took his handkerchief out of his waistcoat pocket and reached across the desk to hand it to her. 

“How do we know that you’re the boss’s friend’s daughter?” Romer spoke up. “You could just be some random assassin who found out about their relationship and is trying to use it now you’re up shit creek.” 

Jenny, having dabbed her eyes, looked straight at Mycroft. “Mr. Holmes has a scar the shape of a triangle on his right side. It is from an ice pick.” 

Greg inhaled. He knew the exact scar she was talking about, had traced it with his fingers many times as he held Mycroft. Mycroft had even told him it was from an ice pick, but hadn’t revealed any further information. 

“My father was the reason Mr. Holmes did not bleed to death on that mountain,” Jenny continued. “And he was the only person in the world other than Mr. Holmes who knows it. He would not have told anyone except for someone he truly trusted. Like his daughter.” 

“You could have killed his daughter,” Romer said. “Maybe even tortured her first.” 

Jenny turned in her seat to look at Romer. “You are very protective of your boss, Mr….” 

Romer smirked. “Yeah, like I’m giving you a name. It’s bad enough you know Moon Moth and Mr. Holmes.” 

She gave him a prim little smile. “Well, may I say that your dedication is admirable.” 

Romer sneered at the back of her head as she turned back to face Mycroft. “I will submit to a DNA test or any examination of my identity that you care to propose.” 

“She is who she says she is, Glasgow,” Mycroft said quietly. “David told me his daughter had a voice like an angel. And as I said, she has his eyes.” He looked straight at Jenny. “He was very proud of you.” 

“Sir!” Romer protested. 

Mycroft held up a hand to forestall further comment. “We will confirm with a DNA test. Now, Ms. Eskalia, it seems you have gotten in over your head. I have a way out for you, but it means giving up your career as a free agent and it means doing things my way. Are you willing?”

“Can I still sing?” Jenny asked tentatively.

“I would no sooner deprive the world of your voice than I would deprive it of the Mona Lisa,” Mycroft told her. “But you will be working for me. First—”

“Sir!” Romer cut in again. “You’re not seriously going to hire her! She’s an assassin! A murderer! We bring people like her down; we don’t work with them!”

“Agent Glasgow,” Mycroft’s voice was acidic, “A black and white view of who we can and cannot work with will serve you very poorly if you wish to be a successful intelligence officer.”

The devastation was plainly written on Romer’s face. “Mr. Holmes…”

“In fact,” Mycroft continued, “Moon Moth will be taking the lead on the operation I have in mind. You may go start on the written report from this evening.”

“But—”

“That will be all, Glasgow. Thank you.” 

Romer, looking utterly defeated, left the room, and Greg couldn’t help but follow him. 

“Peter,” Greg called once they were in the hallway beyond Anthea’s desk. 

Romer turned around, his expression resigned. “What do you want, Silver Fox?” 

Greg closed the distance between them. “You’re not getting replaced, kid.”

“What?” Romer said with a smile he clearly didn’t feel. “Who said anything about getting replaced?” 

“You’re jealous of the new kid,” Greg said. “It’s natural.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, Silver Fox,” Romer sniffed. “You’re sounding just as crazy as your boyfriend in there who apparently is perfectly happy to work with assassins as long as they have a good enough sob story! I mean, we haven’t even ruled out that she’s after him! She could be attacking right now with only Ahmad to hold her off!” 

“You know,” Greg said, ignoring the outburst, “he said you’re his favourite.”

“What?” Romer reeled. “When? That’s not true.” 

“It is.” Greg chuckled. “That night when the Russians went after him and you got cut up? He was so worried about you when that fight was going on. Told me that he cares about you and you’re his favourite.”

Romer’s mouth hung open a little but he quickly schooled his expression. “Well, it sounds like he really cared about David Eskalia, too. Did you know about that?”

“No,” Greg said gently, “but neither of us are young. We both have people in our past. Hell,” he chuckled, “I’ve got an ex-wife.”

“Really?” Romer frowned. 

“Yeah. We were terrible at being married to each other, but I did love her.” 

“Huh.” 

Romer leaned against the wall, staring at the floor. 

“Your code name is Glasgow?” Greg asked after a moment. 

“Nah,” Romer looked up at him with a grin. “It was when I was in training, but I’ve got a proper one now that I’m a full agent. Boss didn’t tell her my real code.” 

“Go on,” Greg said, “tell me the proper one.” 

“‘S ‘Bloodhound.’” 

“‘Cause you’re good at finding people.” 

“That’s me.” Romer took a deep breath, looked away from Greg and back again. “You really think she’s on the level, Silver Fox? The Bell Bird?” 

“Yeah,” Greg told him, “I do.” 

Romer stared at the floor for another moment. Then, “He really said that? About me?” 

“Yeah, kid. He did.” 

Romer finally looked up with a smile. “That’s alright then.”

~*~

Thank you for reading!

Chapter 4 is now up.

[enchi-elm]

Having some Turn thoughts tonight.

Between Benedict Arnold’s half-deranged-with-fear speech about “the smell of weakness” he was exposed to as a druggist’s apprentice, “the same stench that now emanates from my leg” and Lucas Brewster’s “What do you know of sickness” and Caleb’s aunt, uncle, and father being afflicted with palsy and his own brush with PTSD, not to mention Thomas getting a cough and it being one of the few moments we see Abe and Mary united in purpose in early season 1, Judge Woodhull’s bullet wound and his inability to rest... I’m sure I’m forgetting more, anyway, I could probably write a whole sickness-themed fic at this point

Did you know the historical Caleb Brewster suffered a back injury during the war that affected him for the rest of his life, enough to go through the hell of trying to get a disability pension from both the New York and Connecticut governing bodies, a process so frustrating and fruitless he wrote to George Washington personally asking for help?

People who’ve read my stories know that I like to bring up the wellness concerns that would have affected canonical and historical Caleb’s life, but maybe the others need a go too. Especially with what I’ve learned about the prevalence of tuberculosis in the 18th and 19th Centuries and what an absolute shit-show it was (Thomas getting a cough would have inspired a deadly fear in his parents, certainly. No wonder we see them so alarmed.)

Arnold’s speech, especially, struck me tonight as I rewatched S02E04: Men of Blood. I’ve always been painfully affected by that scene, though I know that many in the fandom use it as prime material to call Arnold a “creep”. Granted, he’s overstepping boundaries but his desperation is real and, to me, cuts straight to the bone. I think not being American and not having the complete understanding of Benedict Arnold the Historical Figure really helped me when I watched this for the first time. Instead of a great traitor, I just saw a man unravel from losing his purpose due to illness, something that will always resonate with me. And certainly considering the sliiiiightly ableist overtones in the show whenever it comes to strength and service, I’m always tempted to do a re-write or just do my own take on sickness in the American Revolution.

You know... maybe there’s something there. This whole spy thing is now on my mind too. Did you know that in the Cold War, homosexuals and queer folk were recruited to be double agents and informants? Specifically because it was suggested that they already had a skill-set that allowed them to live double lives and safeguard secrecy. Consider that. What if there was a story that explored that in the American Revolution? Queer or sick, hidden or dismissed. An infirmary is a haven of information anyway, you’ve got officers coming in and out of rotation. There’s something there. What do you think?

....

After I finish Wind and Water, which will be after I finish this semester. Cause priorities and sleep.

[notwarriorswiki]

Flametail still dies, huh? Poor guy, although you mention he also betrays everyone. I wonder if he and his family ever get any closure after he dies?

The Broken Code is heavily rewritten due to (in my opinion) breaking the rules that govern the warrior world. I understand it is fantasy and lots can happen, but Ashfur simply... digging a hole into the Dark Forest territory and being able to lock everyone out like that was kinda the last straw for me on how StarClan works and their respectability/power. I thought the potential of being cut off from StarClan was fantastic, but the way they rationalize it was just not it for me. This alongside defeating The Dark Forest in the Great Battle being... admittedly nothing? Like they just fight until Tigerstar dies, that's about it. Ivypool did more to help than Lionblaze or Jayfeather really did if I'm being honest.

How does this tie into Flametail? Well it's because he is taking Ashfur's role here for a specific reason.

After Flametail learns he is not actually one of the prophesied cats, his insecurities and self doubts all rush back. His one friend was killed, his siblings are all basically affirmed to be "better than him" by StarClan's own word in his mind. He's a medicine cat, trying to heal and help his clan, and not even that special title is helping him get anywhere. Flametail thinks everything is unfair, and he's bitter. He only got his medicine cat name because Rowanstar had to remind Littlecloud to do so. It was the straw that broke the camel's back, and not only does Flametail stop talking to the others, he stops talking to StarClan as well.

Flametail is taken advantage of by the Place of No Stars. I mean a dejected medicine cat with inside knowledge of Jayfeather's Domain desperate to feel valued? There was no easier target. Tigerstar preys on his grandson and gives him all of the affirmation he could want, the things Littlecloud deprived Flametail of. He reminds Flametail that they are family, and that he sees value in him. At this point Flametail is less enveloped in doing the right thing and more just wanting to be recognized, seen - no matter what it is for. It's like when a child acts out to get their parents' attention, only this time its an unloved adult who is running right to the one person who gave him kindness. Flametail is a victim in this regard, but what he does is still horrible.

He feeds that secret information that had been able to be kept secret thanks to Jayfeather's dream Domain. Dawnpelt and Tigerheart do answer his questions and check on him, and Flametail smiles and plays a false friend. There's an information leak, and it's through it that Lionblaze, Tigerheart, Harespring and Minnowtail are put in danger. See they've been going to the Dark Forest at night, training and playing their own part as spies. This is revealed and they're fully outed thanks to Flametail's intel. By this point Harespring as stopped going, dealing with his own stuff and believing he doesn't have to do spy work anymore. They opt to punish him later.

As for the others, Lionblaze and Minnowtail are forced to watch as Mousewhisker is dragged forward and is struck a lethal blow, much to their horror. They're about to kill Ratscar as well for Tigerheart's punishment, at this point Tigerstar has made his point clear, and explains worse will come unless they each bring a cat here to train with them. As Mousewhisker bleeds out, it is only thanks to Minnowtail's love for him that her desperate pleas reach Jayfeather in his his sleep, the two bonded through the Dream Domain. Jayfeather is awoken and smells blood, managing to get to Mousewhisker and save his life.

Again, the Dark Forest knows Lionblaze, Tigerheart and Minnowtail are spies all thanks to Flametail. While they don't out their powers to the other trainees, wanting to keep plans under wraps for now, they do make an example of them and keep them around to continue their watch. This existence of Jayfeather's Domain as a whole is completely exposed, and while The Dark Forest can't get to it, they do know a cat cannot walk in The Dark Forest and the Domain at the same time. By keeping Lionblaze, Tigerheart, and Minnowtail coming to the Dark Forest every night, they can ensure they cannot meet and plan with Jayfeather and the others. That's their plan. As agreed upon as well, each of them bring forth a new Dark Forest apprentice - Lionblaze bringing Ivypaw, Tigerheart bringing Redpaw, and Minnowtail bringing Hollowpaw - as much as they don't want to. This also completely halts Minnowtail being able to meet with Mousewhisker any more.

This sucks because, well, first how do they tell the others they're trapped. Second, how did the Dark Forest find out? Luckily thanks to Kestrelflight's Perspective ability, he is able to learn from Lionblaze what happened and the group remaining can plan within the Domain still. It puts a wrench in their plan, but they figure things out.

Flametail gets outed thanks to Scorchpaw, Tigerheart's apprentice. Scorchpaw's ability causes any cat who has visited the Dark Forest the previous evening to be enshrouded by a darker aura in his vision, making them look scary and horrifying. Tigerheart pieces things together, and while scary as hell for Scorchpaw, he comes to trust Tigerheart and what he's doing. Scorchpaw becomes Tigerheart's voice in the Domain, and is able to tell the group ultimately what cats have been visiting the Dark Forest upon him being included in the prophecy. As you can probably guess, Scorchpaw runs into a terrifying Flametail and realizes something isn't right. You see he's come to understand many cats are there because they don't understand the Dark Forest and believe it's just training, but he fails to understand why Flametail would be there then. When he tells Tigerheart and Dawnpelt this, the group confronts their brother.

Now Flametail knows Dawnpelt sees through lies, and has been able to avoid triggering things up until now through half-truths. However, upon being cornered, Flametail panics and tries to flee, Dawnpelt and Tigerheart giving chase. In the colds of leafbare, Flametail races out onto the thin ice, begging them to stay back and let him go. He just wanted to be apart of something, and never meant for anyone to get hurt. Dawnpelt and Tigerheart plead with him, saying they can figure things out. However, as Dawnpelt takes a step forward towards her brother, the ice shatters, and the ginger tom falls into the water. With horror Dawnpelt dives in after, desperate to save her drowning brother... but he is gone. Tigerheart manages to pull her to the surface, and the two are horrified realizing their brother... was dead.

Flametail goes to The Dark Forest for these actions. He has no chance of being with his family again in his eyes, and all he can do is, well, serve Tigerstar. He's faithful and follows his grandfather's every word, watching Tigerheart from the shadows but too fearful to actually say anything to him.

He largely remains in this same spot until the final battle, in which he insists to Tigerstar that someone should follow Willowshine and her group who are "for some reason" leaving the Lake. Now Flametail and The Dark Forest don't know Willowshine reunited with the group in the Domain, and while she is not part of the prophecy, she is assisting. Jayfeather's Domain is NOT limited in who can go there - he can fully choose anyone, and I mean anyone, but simply has never as he stuck with the initial 12 out of comfort. It's knowledge Flametail doesn't have, even though in retrospect they should be able to say "oh I wasn't part of the prophecy but Jayfeather had me in there" it goes largely... unnoticed to be honest, with no one even fully realizing it until later.

Tigerstar believes they need all forces in the lake territories and can't be spread thin, dismissing Flametail and leaving the ginger tom feeling that familiar sense of unappreciation. In a last ditch effort to prove himself, Flametail leaves of his own will and alone follows Willowshine and her group ultimately to the old forest territories.

This decision by Tigerstar ends up being his undoing as rather than the group being "fleeing cowards" running in their last ditch effort, it's a plan to finally break the connection between the living world and the afterlife. Another group had left towards the SkyClan territories, the Dark Forest also believing the prophesied 12 were fleeing. Oh side note SkyClan was brought to the Lake by Jaypaw, Dawnpaw, Pebblepaw, and Kestrelpaw way back when because SkyClan not being there for the "final battle" is so weird considering the context of it narrative-wise but anyway. By going to both Whispering Cave and the Moonstone and spilling a living cat's blood there, they "pollute" the divinity of the space. If they do so all at the same time for Whispering Cave, the Moonstone, and the Moonpool, they can pollute all three gates and break the connection, locking the Dark Forest and StarClan away. because you can't just kill all the evil dead people... That's crazy...

Flametail is the only Dark Forest cat to have followed one of these groups and therefore is the only chance to stop this. He sees this as his moment and attacks his once closest friend - Willowshine. He fails to understand how she can still see a purpose after they felt much the same pain, but Willowshine looks beyond her own self and displays complete selflessness in her desire to help others and have her actions speak for who she is. As Willowshine does her duty and spills her own blood at the Moonstone, Flametail's spirit is locked away far from where StarClan and The Dark Forest lived. He is outside their borders and is now locked in nothingness, a wanderer with no one to talk to. He can still watch the world down below, just as StarClan and The Dark Forest can, but he is... something else entirely.

This is what gives him agency and the actual power to possess Shadowsight in The Broken Code later. He's pretty locked up for the most part, but when Willowshine is discovered to be the only cat still able to connect with StarClan thanks to her and Flametail's crossing of paths when the connection was broken, a chance is realized.

Willowshine is the new gate. She is who ultimately allows Harespring to get his nine lives when everyone else is locked out previously. Despite not being part of the prophecy, Willowshine has something much greater that she receives through her own sheer will and faith.

Sorry, this is long - but we're finally to The Broken Code. Upon Willowshine becoming the only one able to access StarClan, Sparkfire (who is a villain oops) in an attempt to reach them herself, spills Willowshine's blood again at the Moonpool at the end of the the Vision of Shadows arc. Willowshine is saved, Sparkfire is chased out, but that blood spill, returns access to the other medicine cats, but on the condition they are loyal to their clan and uphold their code. If they're are troubled or distracted, they cannot reach StarClan, simple as that. StarClan can still not walk in dreams, nor can the Dark Forest.

But Flametail is neither of those. He's a spirit, and he has an opening. He chooses to embed himself in Tigerheart's son Shadowkit, and thus he is the one haunting him and guiding him in ways to give the spirits of the dead more power again, using Shadowkit's naivety to manipulate others. Flametail relives his mentorship again as an elderly Littlecloud trains Shadowpaw - though his own bitterness grows as Littlecloud puts forth genuine effort to do right by Shadowpaw. Tigerheart had made the medicine cat promise he wouldn't do the same to Shadowpaw as he did the Flametail.

Shadowpaw is everything Flametail wanted to be, and because Tigerheart is so aware of the pain Flametail went through and how it led to his demise, he is a huge advocate for Shadowpaw and always has his back to make sure his voice is heard. It angers Flametail and he wants instead to drive a wedge between the clans so they can feel the same loneliness and despair he did.

Hollystar isn't possessed, it's all handled by a corrupted Shadowsight who Tigerheart furiously protects and the other clans attempt to maintain good ground with since he is their friend. However, tensions run high as possessed Shadowsight gets cats killed, lies, just causes so much pain and suffering that Tigerheart refuses to see past, to the point Hollystar and Harestar can't ignore it anymore even with their friendship.

Flametail never gets his closure until it's too late, when he kills Tigerheart in the finale of The Broken Code using Shadowsight's body. Shadowsight kills the one person who didn't hate him after all Flametail did. As Tigerheart bleeds out he speaks to both Shadowsight and Flametail with his dying breath - that he loves them, forgives them, and that they'll always be family.

The pain that Shadowsight feels is so strong that it shakes Flametail, who also feels a massive wave of grief as his brother acknowledges him. Flametail's spirit comes to the realization of what he has become, and that he never needed the world, just the people he loved. The people he destroyed...

With that Flametail releases his control on Shadowsight, and by exiting his body he is cast back to the Dark Forest. Due to their connection to each other throughout life, Shadowsight will always feel apart of Flametail. He has become the Dark Forest gate just as Willowshine was the StarClan gate. It is also with Flametail's overwhelming grief that Bristlefrost's sacrifice of ascension comes into play.

Bristlefrost advocates that cats can change, and that the endless realm of the afterlife cannot be transformed into a world of black and white. Cats from StarClan can be cast to the Dark Forest, and return, and Dark Forest cats can now reach StarClan when they find peace. No one is beyond overcoming the pain they felt, though if they'll ever find it is up to them. The door is open and is up to those cats to find peace, or wither away for the rest of time. This is Bristlefrost's gift to the cats of StarClan and The Dark Forest before she fades and stands beside Chi, becoming a greater being.

[ncisfranchise-source]

Mark Harmon said goodbye to the CBS hit NCIS almost two years ago — but don’t look for him on the golf course. 

“I left the show, I didn’t retire,” Harmon tells PEOPLE in this week’s issue.

Instead, the father of two adult sons with his wife, actress Pam Dawber, pivoted from 19 seasons as Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs to a new passion project that had him sifting through piles of research about World War II. 

Next month, the 72-year-old will release his first historical nonfiction book, Ghosts of Honolulu: A Japanese Spy, a Japanese American Spy Hunter, and the Untold Story of Pearl Harbor. “I've always thought you can learn from history,” he tells PEOPLE. “Things tend to repeat themselves.”

Ghosts of Honolulu unearths the true story of Douglas Wada, a Japanese American born in Hawaii who became a spy for the U.S. Navy, in his greenest years posing as a local newspaper reporter for what was then known as the Office of Naval Intelligence (ONI). Ultimately, Wada would chase rival Japanese spy Takeo Yoshikawa across the Pacific following the coordinated attack on Pearl Harbor.

"This is the first story (leading) to the birth of what became (the real) NCIS,” says Harmon of the  Naval Criminal Investigative Service. "These agents are really a different breed. I hope that there’s a story revealed here that you don’t know. It was important work they were doing, and no one knew about it.”

Harmon calls Wada a trailblazer: "He was a very specific guy in a very specific time" with a skill set to match, working to uncover Japanese infiltration while striving to protect the innocent Japanese American community being targeted by his own government.

The book is a labor of love from Harmon and co-writer Leon Carroll Jr., the latter who spent 20 years as a real NCIS special agent before becoming the CBS show's longtime technical advisor.

While in the agency, Carroll Jr. "was their No. 1 interrogator," says Harmon. "I was always asking him about the right way to do something or the way he would do something. There wasn't any interrogation I ever was part of on this show that I didn't talk to him about. So when this idea came to me, I wanted it to be real. I said I wouldn't touch this without him." 

Harmon's broadcaster father fought as a pilot in WWII, and in his youth Harmon had three years of ROTC training in high school before going on to play quarterback for UCLA. But he says it was his casting as Gibbs that led to his current passion for naval spy history.

“I was trying to research it, and there was just not much information about this agency," he says. "It was really asking questions and meeting people and then grew from that.” 

Now, after spending almost two decades on NCIS, Harmon says he is using his free time to explore new pursuits. “I always find things to do," he says. "I think for the longest time I was just tired, to be honest. My workload was heavy every week. I took it seriously, and there were a lot of people there who did the same. I miss the camaraderie, the lunches at the tables and hearing about people’s families and what they’re doing away from the show. But it’s a job.”

At this stage in his life, Harmon continues to feel lucky. “I've got time to do whatever I want to. I can plan a dinner with the boys, we can take a trip. I'm so fortunate, I don't ever wake up not thinking that."

Ghosts of Honolulu: A Japanese Spy, a Japanese American Spy Hunter, and the Untold Story of Pearl Harbor is out Nov. 14 wherever books are sold.