#yes i know she probably (BETTER) come back but like that was so heart wrenching what the fuck man

[timothylawrence]

you motherfuckers watched me make post after post about how much i love Maya knowing what was coming... you guys are all so SICK!!!!!

[thatbloodymuggle]

MASTERMIND (vi)

SIX - FROM ASHES

SUMMARY: A child of light and dark, you are the Night Court’s best kept secret. After decades spent in hiding, you yearn to stretch your wings. But you quickly learn that freedom comes with a price, as you find yourself trying to outfox the fox in his own den.

PAIRING: eris vanserra x reader

WORD COUNT: 7.2k

SERIES MASTERLIST

WARNINGS: language, lots of plot building, reader-centric, non-canon usage of real history

A/N: no eris in this chapter, but he'll be back soon🫠

“No luck?” the High Lord of the Night Court drums his fingers along the oak of his armchair.

“She’s stubborn as a mule,” a disgruntled Cassian slumps into his usual spot at the meeting table, “I think I’d have better luck convincing Tamlin to join our court.”

Rhys’s leisure finger-tapping halts, his knuckles turning white as he grips the arms of his chair so tightly it starts to splinter. Beside him, Cassian runs a hand through his unruly hair, shoulders tense. And across from him, Mor’s despondent eyes study the stem of her wine glass as if it’s the most interesting thing in the world. The rest of the table is a mixture of similar states of frustration, anger, and worry: Azriel’s jaw ticks, Feyre’s hopeful smile falters, Amren’s eyes roll. Everyone shifts with unease at the thick tension in the air, hallmarked by the glaringly obvious empty seat between Mor and Cassian. Well, everyone except Nesta, whose stone-cold expression doesn’t so much as twitch at the admittedly predictable news.

It’s been three months. Three months since you returned to the House of Wind in a heap of heartbreak. Three months of Azriel’s shadows chasing you down as you hop from court to court like a vagabond. Three months filled with visits from nearly every member of the Inner Circle. But despite their best attempts, their most heart-wrenching pleas, you remain steadfast: you are not the woman you used to be, and until you can find her, the Night Court cannot be your home.

“Where is she now?” Feyre breaks the heavy silence.

“Winter Court,” Azriel grunts, “She moved from Dawn last week.”

“And now that she knows we’ve found her, she’s probably gone already,” Cassian grumbles, face still sour from his rather unpleasant encounter with you.

The waning wood of Rhys’s chair finally snaps, sending pieces of splintered oak flying through the air. Feyre winces beside him, and for the first time Mor’s eyes move from the crystal glass. 

“This is getting ridiculous,” Rhys seethes, “We’ve given her space. She’s had her fun running around like a nomad. It’s time for her to come back home.”

Azriel grunts in agreement, the muscles underneath his sculpted arms flexing as he crosses them across the table. Feyre pulls her bottom lip between her teeth in contemplation.

“We can’t force her back here if she’s not ready,” Feyre counters softly.

“Yes, we can,” Amren snaps, “Ready or not, serving in this court is her duty.”

 “If we force her against her will, she’ll never forgive us,” Cassian grumbles, his wings fluttering slightly in a sign of irritation, “She made that painfully clear today.”

Mor sets her wine glass down on the table, and the soft clink draws everyone’s attention. They all stare, waiting with bated breath for her to speak.

During the first few weeks of your disappearance, Mor was an emotional wreck. She visited you each time she caught wind of your new location. She couldn’t stand to see her sister, her own flesh and blood, destroyed by the same male who hurt her centuries ago. But as the weeks stretched into months, and each visit became more and more reviled, she’d begun losing hope. It was a pain like no other—being unable to connect to the one person she loves unequivocally. The emptiness in your eyes, the disdain in your lips, only grew with each attempt, until she’d given up completely. Until she’d resigned herself to sulking in the corner of the room, staring at inanimate objects with a permanent frown on her face. 

“Leave her be,” Mor’s uncharacteristically cold tone slices through the air, “If she wants to wallow in her own self-pity, then let her.”

Azriel shifts in discomfort. His shadows swirl around the empty chair, as if mourning your absence. His wings twitch behind him, itching to search every inch of Prythian until he relocates you—or throttles Eris Vanserra’s throat.

The aftermath of your abrupt departure was explosive, to say the least. Watching you return bloodied and bare at the hands of him was far too familiar. It was a sight Azriel had witnessed once centuries ago—one he so deeply wishes could be cleansed from his memories forever. Once the panic that accompanied your return had settled, it was a blazing fury that took its place. The second the Autumn Court heir stepped into the Spring Court for his monthly meeting with Cassian, the Spymaster had him pinned against a tree with the Truthteller to his throat. It took every ounce of his will power, along with Cassian’s incessant reminder that Eris would be no use dead, to keep Azriel from slitting his throat on the spot. 

With your unabating avoidance of the topic, the Inner Circle is still ignorant to the details of your affair. Azriel, on the other hand, knew from the second he laid eyes on you, crumpled and broken on the living room floor. The rest of the Night Court entourage was quick to catch on—but it was him, the true limerence, who knew it from the start. And with his centuries spent pining after a female who can never love him back, he is unable to fathom the notion of a male rejecting a bond gifted by the Mother herself.

“She needs us,” Azriel avoids Mor’s penetrating gaze, “We cannot leave family behind.”

Red, hot ire contorts onto Mor’s features, but her retort is cut short by Rhys’s commanding tone.

“So we don’t force her,” Rhys crosses his arms over the table, “We deliver a message. Tell her that if she wants to keep her position in this court’s assembly, she is to report back to the House of Wind within the week—otherwise, we’ll find someone else to fill her position.”

Nesta, who’s been eerily quiet, scoffs humorlessly, “If you think that’s going to work, then you must truly be dense.” Rhys’s nostrils flare and he grinds his teeth. Cassian places a steadying hand on her thigh underneath the table, but the eldest Archeron sister continues, “If you’re going to give her an ultimatum, you might as well chain her up and lock her here. She’s far too intelligent, more than all of you combined, might I add, to fall for something as foolish as reverse psychology.”

Rhys leans forward and a menacing snarl curls onto his lips at his sister-in-law’s insubordination. Feyre shoots a warning glance at her sister, but the damage has already been done. 

“I’m not chaining anyone up,” the High Lord seethes.

“It sure seems that way,” Nesta retaliates, ignoring Cassian’s blunt nails digging into her thigh through her leathers, “It’s your fault she’s too traumatized to come back here. You sent her there. You encouraged her to get close to him. So maybe you should stop projecting, and give her the space she needs to sort her shit out.”

 Pure, unbridled rage blazes in Rhys’s violet eyes. His fists slam against the table, sending red liquid sloshing out of Mor’s glass. Feyre flinches, and the two Illyrian warriors keep their eyes down. But despite the fury pouring from the High Lord, Nesta keeps her chin held high, her eyes narrowed in a punishing glare. 

“The only person at fault is that Autumn Court piece of scum, girl,” Amren snaps, her cold eyes just as deadly as Nesta’s, “We’d be better off getting rid of him, once and for all.”

“He’s no use dead,” Feyre counters, placing a steadying hand on her mate’s shoulder.

“He’s not much use alive either,” Azriel grumbles.

 “I’m done with this conversation,” Mor abruptly stands from the table, her doe eyes void of emotion, “Do what you will. I don’t care.”

“Sit down,” Rhys’s tone is commanding, leaving no room for debate. She purses her lips, but reluctantly follows his instructions. Mor diverts her gaze back to the stem of the wine glass, retreating to her earlier fascination with the unfascinating object. “As much pleasure as I’d take in seeing the light leave the bastard’s eyes, we’re not killing Eris,” Rhys reasons, “And as it stands, I see no better option than leveraging her position as a member of this court’s politics.”

Nesta narrows her eyes, and he matches her glare. 

“It’s worth a try. We’ve all tried reasoning with her, and it’s only pushed her further,” Amren affirms before grumbling under her breath, “Stupid girl.”

Rhys relaxes back into his seat, but the tension in his shoulders remains, “Well, then if we’re all in agreement, I can draft a—”

“Let me talk to her,” Nesta interrupts.

“No,” the syllables roll off Rhys’s tongue before she can even finish her sentence.

The table falls silent when Feyre immediately retaliates, “Yes.”

The High Lord and Lady stare at one another, each unrelenting. The youngest Acheron sister cocks a brow, as if challenging her mate. Her pink lips are pulled tight, shoulders back; leaving no question that she is, in fact, his equal. Rhys bristles as Nesta’s voice sounds through the air once again, but keeps his gaze trained on Feyre.

“Clearly, all of you have failed miserably getting through to her,” Nesta’s cold tone softens slightly as Cassian kicks her foot underneath the table, “I’ve—” she falters, “I’ve been there before—in that seemingly impenetrable darkness. So let me talk to her.”

The anger laced onto Rhys’s features wavers, his lips dipping into a frown. His hard gaze softens, and he releases a long sigh. “If the High Lady wishes it, then so be it,” he relents.

Feyre fights the triumphant smile tugging at her rosy lips. Nesta does not.

With that, the plan slowly unfurls. Azriel will begin his search first thing in the morning, and once he relocates you, Nesta will pay you a visit. Much to her displeasure, Rhys still insists on writing his stupid letter for her to deliver. However, with agitation clear in the air, Nesta decides to let him have this small victory—if only to preserve his fragile ego. Through it all, Mor’s eyes don’t waver from her wine glass. But despite her detachment, a small sliver of hope dares to break through the solemn room. Everyone is wary, for hope has proven time and time again to be futile. And still, they can’t help but latch on to it for dear life.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

A wise philosopher once said, “By three methods we may learn wisdom: First, by reflection, which is noblest; Second, by imitation, which is easiest; and third by experience, which is the bitterest.” But in all Confucius’s wisdom, you wholeheartedly believe his list should be reordered. 

First should be imitation, which you agree is easiest. You’ve acquired wisdom through imitation for as long as you can remember. From immersing yourself between endless shelves of books, to regurgitating the words of Prythian’s most treasured scholars, you are well practiced in imitation. And despite its short-sightedness, it has granted you wisdom, albeit superficial.

Second, in your mind, is experience. In your 70 years of existence, you’ve only recently started to dip your toes into this derivative of wisdom. And it is your precisely your thirst for wisdom that has driven you to seek experience in the first place. It’s that insatiable hunger, like a demon lurking on your shoulder, that initiated the cascade of experiences that has stripped away your sense of self entirely, leaving you an empty canvas, ready to be remolded. But despite the soul-shattering pain that has come along with experience, you don’t agree with Confucius. For reflection is far more bitter.

How does one practice introspection when they’ve lost their sense of self? When all there is to reflect on is an empty void, filled only by imitation and limited experience? It was meant to be an impossible feat, you suppose. If wisdom was so easy to come by, then wars wouldn’t ignite. Hate wouldn’t fester. And love would prevail.

It’s that void that plagues your mind as you stare into the crystal-clear lake below, shimmering with the reflection of a ghost of a woman. Even as you stretch your lips and wiggle your fingers, watching how it mirrors in the water, you don’t recognize the being staring back. The irony of it is glaring—staring at your physical reflection in search of that otherworldly one. But what else can you do when you’ve traversed all travelable land, met every breed of faerie, and still your only semblance of self is that tug deep in your chest that grows duller each day?

The woman in the lake ripples as a bright, orange fish breaks the surface briefly before swimming back down into its depths. With a long sigh, you peel your eyes from the crystal-clear water and divert your gaze to the surrounding trees. They shine a deep, emerald green underneath the beating sun. After several days spent traversing the mountains, creeks, and valleys of the Day Court, you’ve found that this little nook, tucked quietly along the southern border, is your favorite.

The rolling hills and warming, golden rays are something out of a children’s book. The nights are short; a stark contrast to the beautiful darkness of Velaris. And although you do miss the winking stars and smiling moon, something about this place feels…calming.

During the first two months of your excursion, you stayed far away from Night and Day, and you avoided Autumn like the plague. Feeling so disconnected from yourself, you opted for the more foreign parts of Prythian. A week in Summer, followed by a few days in Spring, before venturing into Dawn. Winter was your favorite. Without a real home, and with a handful of supplies, the biting winds were vicious—but they numbed the ache in your chest. That is, until you were sniffed out for…what is it, the sixteenth time now?

Your lips dip into a scowl at the thought. Each time you feel like you’re on the brink of something—of some kind of clarity, some self-discovery—Azriel’s meddling shadows rip you away from solitude. You know that your family means well. But telling them, time and time again, to kindly fuck off is becoming rather tedious. You’re not heartless; it’s quite the opposite, really. Each time you look into their eyes—their pitiful, dejected eyes—it rouses a storm of emotions deep inside your gut. You can’t stand the way they look at you like some helpless, wounded animal that bites at any helping hand. The way they look at you like you’re broken. It’s an unwelcome confirmation of your deepest fear: that you are, in fact, irreparable, crippled by the only person who’s made you feel alive. 

So, you continue to bite at their helping hands, constantly moving in search of that stupid introspection Confucius speaks so highly of. It’s how you’ve found yourself here, in the place that your mother once lived in, the place she once loved. It’s odd; exploring land that is technically your home, but that you’ve never seen before. You can’t help but wonder what your life would look like had you grown up outside the walls of that library. You imagine that you and your mother would have lived in a quaint cottage in this little nook in the south, where the hills stretch so far into the horizon, they seem infinite. You imagine you would have grown up swimming in this lake, climbing the luscious, green trees until your fingers splintered. 

The soft smile on your lips drops instantly as you catch sight of a dark movement in your peripheral. You whip around, just in time to see tendrils of shadows retreat into the trees. A scowl contorts onto your features. The stupid Spymaster should have known that his shadows wouldn’t fare well in the blistering daylight of this court. 

“Fool,” you shout out into the air. Only the birds chirp back—but you know the message was received.

You reluctantly haul yourself from the grass and begin your trek back to your temporary abode. The grass quivers beneath your stomping feet. Is a week of peace and quiet so much to ask? How many hurtful words does it take for them to give up? You don’t slow down as you approach the abandoned cottage. The hinges of the broken door groan in protest as you swing it open. Sun rays peak through the holes in the roof, shining down onto the dirty, wooden floorboards. It smells of rust and mildew, a testament to its centuries of neglect. But with only a handful of coins left in your pocket, it does the job.

Your hands tremble with agitation as you haphazardly throw your few personal belongings, strewn about the small house, into your single bag. You don’t have time to spare. Azriel surely knows he was caught, and he no doubt alerted Rhys immediately. Someone will be here soon with another futile plea to bring you home. You can only hope that you’ll be out of here before they arrive. Just as you snap the buttons of your bag shut, the hinges of the door groan again behind you.

You squint your eyes shut and clench your jaw, willing yourself to maintain some semblance of composure. You can tell by their light footsteps that it’s not one of the males—thank the Mother, because if Cassian returned he would be hobbling back to Velaris missing a limb.

“Isn’t this charming?”

That aloof tone could only belong to one person. Your tight grip on your bag loosens slightly, and your eyes widen with surprise. You turn slowly, brows furrowed as you take in Nesta’s appearance. Her golden-brown hair is braided on top of her head as usual, not a strand out of place. She wanders around the dreadful space, studying each dust-covered corner as if you’re not there. The initial shock fades, and the frown returns to your face.

“I didn’t know you were doing Rhys’s dirty work now,” you retort coolly. 

She pauses her mindless exploration and turns on her heels. Her cold eyes are striking, as always, and she doesn’t hide her scrutinizing gaze as she scans you from head to toe. You’ve looked better, it says. Nesta looks dreadfully bored as she replies, “I’m not—Well, I suppose I am,” she pulls a crumpled piece of parchment from her brassiere, “He requested that I deliver this. But if I were you, I’d burn it.”

Your eye the letter in her hand warily, as if touching it will somehow transport you back to the House of Wind. Nesta rolls her eyes and waves the parchment in her hand, “If you don’t take it, then I’m going to have to answer to his bruised ego.”

Reluctantly, you take the letter from her waiting hand and blindly set it aside, “Is that it?”

“Pretty much,” she quips.

“You’re not going to grovel and plea for me to come home?” you cross your arms over your chest.

“I don’t grovel,” she scoffs.

The tension in your body unfurls slightly, but you remain alert. You know Nesta is honest—but why on Earth would Rhys send her here?

“I’ll see myself out then,” the eldest Archeron sister juts her chin slightly in a farewell nod. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, watching intently as she turns on her heel and strides back towards the broken door.

“Wait,” you blurt before you can stop yourself. She pauses, ears perked expectantly. Maybe it’s her complete nonchalance, or her abrupt bluntness. But the way Nesta looks at you, like a real person and not some kicked puppy, strikes a chord within you. It stirs a realization that it’s not company you want to avoid, but rather the wrong kind of company.

“You can stay, if you’d like,” your voice is hesitant, but doesn’t waver.

Nesta turns slowly. Her icy eyes remain, but a ghost of a smile plays on her rosy lips, “Okay. But not in this dump.”

You roll your eyes at the way she crinkles her nose in response to the mildew seeping through the walls. You’re sure you don’t smell much better, not having had a proper bath in at least a week.

“Fine,” you deadpan, “We can walk.”

Nesta lets you lead the way, out of the abandoned cottage and into the green beauty of Day. The sun shines as brightly as ever as you fall into a comfortable rhythm, striding leisurely side by side. You note the wonderment in Nesta’s piercing eyes, drinking in the sweet breeze that hallmarks the Day Court. 

“I’m surprised it took you so long to venture here,” she remarks, “I’m not sure I’ve seen such…serenity before.”

You shrug as you step over a fallen log, “It’s nice.” Understatement of the century. “I quite liked Winter, though.”

Nesta snorts, “What did you squat in there? An igloo?”

She can surely feel your glare burning holes in the side of her head, but her eyes remain trained on the full-bodied trees above. 

“A tupiq, actually,” you retort. In retrospect, an igloo would have been better. “I liked the cold. It was…numbing.”

An unspoken tension hangs in the otherwise crisp air. You’re not sure why the small sliver of vulnerability rolls off your tongue. It’s not a new revelation—but saying it aloud, for someone else to hear, is different.

“A stark contrast to the blazing inferno that drove you here,” Nesta states flagrantly. 

A dull tug deep in your chest halts you in your tracks. Your eyes narrow to slits, and Nesta finally meets your punishing gaze.

“What’s your play here?” you hiss.

She quirks a brow, “There’s no play. I didn’t realize Eris was a dirty word.”

His name rolls so nonchalantly off her tongue, and you physically stumble back with a wince. You haven’t heard his name in months. It was a boundary not even your half-sister dared to breech during her many unwelcome visits. Hearing that four-letter name brings on a swirl of feelings you’ve tried for so long to suppress. Nesta’s piercing expression softens slightly as she observes the change in your demeanor. She opens her mouth to apologize, but you speak before she has the chance.

“It’s not—he’s…he’s not,” you try, and fail, to keep your voice steady.

She nods slowly and wets her lips before replying, “Well, I’m glad you’re not letting a male dictate your life.”

Your lips curl into a smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. The irony of it is sobering. Despite your expert avoidance of any thoughts plagued by him, he has dictated your life from the moment you left Velaris. You’ve run like a coward, chased by his ghost, in search of some mirage of clarity that he has made unattainable. 

“I noticed your copy of Confucius’s Analects,” Nesta halts your rapid spiral, “In that shithole you’ve been squatting in. Interesting choice, given your…light packing.”

You can’t help but glance at the lake in the distance. Déjà vu washes over you as you’re reminded of your earlier musings by the crystal-clear water. 

 “I didn’t know you’ve read his works,” you reply simply.

Nesta shrugs and examines her long nails, picking at the cuticles, “I might have indulged myself in your personal copy while you were in Autumn.”

A faint smile plays at your lips, “You’ve outgrown your smut books?”

“Not in the slightest,” she laughs unabashedly, “Just thought I’d supplement them with some light reading.”

Ancient philosophy is hardly light reading. But this is Nesta you’re talking to.

“What did you think?” you ask, eyes still trained on the blue in the horizon.

She sits down on a nearby log, picking at her nails in thought. You seat yourself on a large rock across the path.

“I agree with most of his musings,” she hums, “Although I find them to be rather unremarkable. I find it silly that the world still marvels a regular, old male, as if his theories were anything more than common sense.”

Your eyes widen slightly. Nesta’s pessimism shouldn’t surprise you—yet you’re still taken aback by her blatant disregard for one of history’s most renowned scholars.

“I think you underestimate the acuity of the general population.”

She shrugs, “All I’m saying is keeping my nose stuck in books written by senile males is futile when I have a mind sharper than theirs,” she pauses, “Maybe one written by a female as wise as you would be more worth my time.”

You scoff, “I’m far from wise.”

“I think you’re plenty wise,” Nesta holds your gaze, “If you dare to believe it.”

Goosebumps prickle along your arms, and you’re not sure if it’s from the billowing breeze or Nesta’s candidness. You avoid her gaze, opting instead to stare out at the blue in the horizon. Silver lines your eyes as you mull over her words. Perhaps she is right—reading about introspection does not grant one knowledge. It’s merely another form of imitation. And maybe if you looked within yourself for long enough, you’d see what she sees—that wisdom comes from within. You blink back tears, and your bottom lip quivers.

“I miss you all. More than you know,” you barely speak above a whisper, “But every time I look at them—every time I look at her…it feels like drowning. Like gasping for air, and water rushing in. Because I can’t be the friend, the sister they want me to me.”

The billowing breeze stops, leaving the air around you deadly quiet. The trees seem to lean in, holding their breath as they wait for your next words.

“I can’t look them in the eye when all I can see, touch, taste, feel is…is Eris.”

The onlooking trees shudder as you utter his name for the first time in three months. And for the first time in three months, a hairline crack appears in the walls you’ve so carefully constructed. The floodgate hasn’t broken, but a single tear slips out. It descends the apple of your cheek and into the corner of your trembling lips. The droplet stirs something inside of you, tugs on the string buried deep within your chest in a mournful plea.

“Don’t come back.”

The breeze billows again as Nesta’s steady tone slice through the air. You peel your watery eyes away from the lake, and look at her…really look at her. Her expression is nearly indiscernible beneath the stone-cold mask she wears so well. But the slight dip in the corners of her eyes betray her, exposing the heart-wrenching understanding that lies within.

“What?” you barely recognize your own voice.

“Don’t come back,” she repeats with conviction, “Don’t let them tell you what to do. Don’t let them dictate how you heal.”

You watch, dumbfounded, as she rises from the log and brushes the dirt from her silky dress. For the first time in your life, Nesta gives you a smile. A real, honest smile, so fleeting you think you could’ve imagined it. Before you can utter another word, she’s gone with the billowing wind.

You raise a shaky hand and wipe the pooled tear from your lips with the pad of your thumb. The golden thread tugs steadily in the chasm of your chest, like the beat of a heart that doesn’t belong to you. You rise from the boulder on wobbly legs and begin your walk back to the dingy cottage. You time your steps with the tugging thread. The wistful breeze doesn’t reach your ears as you immerse yourself in your swirling thoughts. You don’t give yourself the reprieve of blocking them out, of suppressing them—not this time. Instead, you let them carry you inside the mold-filled house, guide you to your packed bag, and urge you to dig out a roll of parchment and a pen.

You slump onto the dirty ground. As you roll out the parchment, you feel your head clear for the first time since you left Autumn. The fog of guilt, doubt, despair lifts. And as you set pen to page, you’re able to discern your own handwriting—delicate pen strokes that belong solely, perfectly, to you. Daughter of Marjorie, Friend of the Night Court, Sister of Morrigan, and Mate of the Autumn Court Heir. You’re all of it, all at once. 

Ink smudges from the soft pitter-patter of salty tears. With each droplet that falls, another boarded window is ripped away, shining light that’s been hiding for months. Even as they stream down, wracking your body to its bones, you let that tug deep inside your chest guide your steady hand. 

As the days blur into nights, you write with an intensity born of both clarity and urgency. The tears that once fell now blend with ink, each drop a testament to the rawness of your words. And each soft scratch of the pen draws you just a little bit closer to reclaiming your voice. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You’re not quite sure what brought you here, to the House of Wind. Maybe it’s a moment of madness, brought on by the endless stream of tears you’ve been holding back for months. Maybe it’s the unedited, albeit complete, manuscript in your satchel. Or maybe it’s sheer exhaustion from writing from dusk till dawn, and the whole day in-between, three times over. Perhaps all of the above. But there’s three things you’re sure of: your head feels like it’s about to split in two, your hand aches so badly it may fall off, and you’re so nervous to walk through those doors that you might be sick.

You rock back and forth on your heels as you stare at the entrance atop 10,000 winding steps, frozen in place. You feel like a dog, returning home with its tail between its legs, after biting the hand of its caregiver. And you have absolutely no idea what the hell you’re going to say. Nesta was right. You should’ve stayed far away, continued your aimless journey until you could work up the courage to do this. You stumble backwards, but before you can flee the doors swing open.

Your breath catches in your throat as violet eyes stare back at you. They’re wide, like an open book. You can read it all, every footnote of his emotions: trepidation, remorse, but above all, relief. You’re not sure if he wants to punch you or kiss you. But before you can utter a word, he strides forward and engulfs you in his strong arms. He holds you tight, afraid that if he lets go, you’ll slip through his fingers once again. The unstated desperation twists your gut, washing away every ounce of hesitation. For the first time in months, you don’t deny yourself the comfort of human touch and wrap your arms around his broad shoulders. He shudders underneath your hold and buries his faces into the crook of your shoulder. It’s in his embrace that you realize you’re not a dog limping back to its owner—rather, you’re a soldier returning from war, battered, but whole. 

“I’m sorry,” Rhys mumbles, his heavy breath tickling your skin.

You frown and move to push him away, but his grip around your frail body only tightens.

“For what?”

“For sending you there,” he doesn’t miss a beat, “For not being there for you—for not being the brother you needed me to be.”

His words chip at a piece of your healing heart. “Please don’t apologize,” your voice wavers, “It’s not your fault. It’s not anybody’s fault. This is just one of those things life, in all her ambiguity, throws at us—and I’m better for it. Even if she’s a raging bitch sometimes.”

He chuckles deeply, the vibration warming your whole body.

“She is,” he grins against you, “I’m just happy you’re home. Even though you reek.”

You release a watery laugh, “I know.” You swallow down the lump in your throat and unravel yourself from his tight embrace. “I haven’t decided yet, though—if I’ll be staying or not.”

The brilliant violet of his eyes dims, and it takes every ounce of willpower to hold your ground. 

“You’re not staying?” his voice is eerily steady.

 “I don’t know,” you avoid his penetrating gaze, “I want to. But I have…stipulations.”

Rhys’s hopeful gaze hardens slightly. “Stipulations?” he deadpans.

Something moves in your peripheral, and you glance up at one of the arched windows just in time to see the curtain snap shut. “Can we go somewhere more private to talk?”

He nods tersely. He remains deadly calm, wary that one wrong slip of his tongue could send you running again. You immediately miss the warmth of his welcome, but he still maintains a certain softness as he holds his arm out to you. You hook your arm through his, wrapping your dirty fingers around his bicep. You close your eyes as the world twists and folds until you’re standing with him in a familiar room.

The extravagance of his office makes you harshly aware of just how filthy you are. Months of travel have coalesced into the grime underneath your uncut fingernails, the tangled knots of hair on your head. Rhys takes a seat behind his desk, and you warily stare at the chair opposite it. A blush dusts across your cheeks at the prospect of dirtying the velvet cushion, but he nods his head in a wordless command, and you take a seat. 

“Before I start, I want to…apologize,” you swallow down the lump in your throat, “It was never my intention to hurt or worry any of you. I just needed some time to sort things out.” They’re far from sorted. “But I could’ve done so without my unkind words.”

Rhys nods, his sharp features softening slightly, “I know. And I should’ve given you space, so it cancels out.”

Some of the tension slips from your shoulders, but your back remains stiff. You wet your chapped lips and take an anchoring breath before continuing, “I don’t know if I’m ready to return. But I don’t think I’ll ever feel ready. And if there’s one thing my…absence has taught me, it’s that I can’t sit around and wait for life to pass me by.”

The bag on your lap weighs heavier as you’re reminded of the manuscript tucked neatly inside. The glimmer of hope returns to Rhys’s brilliantly violet eyes, but he remains composed as he waits for you to continue.

“So, I’d like to return. But under three conditions.”

 “Okay,” Rhys drags the word out, “But I have to warn you that neutering Cassian is off the table.”

You can’t contain the giggle that escapes your lips. Rhys’s broad chest rumbles with laughter, and for a split second, it feels like no time has passed at all.

“As much as I would delight in it, cutting off the Lord of Bloodshed’s balls wasn’t what I had in mind,” you reply once your fit of laughter subsides.

A small smile remains on Rhys’s lips, “Then what is?”

The humor of the moment passes, and you purse your lips. You close your eyes briefly. In and out. Your chest expands, and as you exhale, your eyes shoot open. It’s now or never.

“First, I want an apartment in Velaris. No more being cooped up here—I want freedom to roam about the Court as I please,” you declare.

Rhys takes less than a minute to think it over before replying, “Done. What else?”

Your brows arch slightly with surprise. Your first request is definitely the tamest of the three—but you didn’t anticipate quite how…agreeable he would be. One down, two to go. Now, for the big one.

“No more secrets,” your tone is steady, self-assured, “No more hiding my identity.”

His jaw shifts, and his bright eyes darken. It’s deadly quiet. You find yourself holding your breath as you wait for his brewing reaction.

“What about your father?” he challenges, his voice gruff with apprehension.

“I don’t care,” your reply is immediate, “Kier won’t so much as lay a finger on me so long as I’m a part of your circle. I don’t give a flying fuck if anyone knows who I am, for that matter.” He opens his mouth to respond, but you beat him to it. “I’m aware that I would no longer be able to act as a liaison between citizens of the courts. But I know for a fact that my time and energy is just as well-served elsewhere,” you don’t so much as stutter as you speak, “I want to be renamed Scholar of the Night Court.”

The High Lord leans forward in his seat, crossing his arms over his desk. The position exudes power, but you don’t so much as flinch at his commanding demeanor. “And what would you do as Scholar?”

You lean forward, mimicking his stance, “Draft your communications. Document your correspondences. Conduct research as you see fit,” the list of tasks rolls off your tongue effortlessly, “Although Amren deserves credit for cracking that book during the war, you wouldn’t have been able to do it without me. There’s not a soul in this Court as proficient as me in ancient tongues, history—overall intelligence too, for that matter.”

The hesitation is clear in the cinch between his brows. Losing you as a liaison is a loss for his ranks. But gaining you as a scholar could be even more valuable. More than that, you know that Rhys will do virtually anything to have you back here—to have you home. Just as you predicted, he releases a long sigh and unfurls his arms before leaning back in his chair.

“Okay,” he relents.

Your lips twitch, threatening to spread into a wide grin, but you suppress it. You still have one more demand, and you have a feeling that this one will truly test his resolve. 

“My last stipulation,” you brace yourself for his rebuttal, “Is that I want full involvement in Court politics. Visits to the Court of Nightmares, meetings with other High Lords—whatever the rest of your Inner Circle accompanies you to, I want to be in attendance.”

“No.”

You frown and cross your arms over your chest, “No?”

“No,” Rhys repeats with conviction.

Irritation blossoms, but your face remains impassive, “May I ask why?”

“You have no idea the…intricacies of the politics I must deal with. It’s not safe,” he trails off, his eyes glazing over with a sense of detachment.

You’re not sure if it’s your comparatively young age, or the fact that you were dropped on his doorstep as a refugee soon-to-be-orphan so many years ago; whatever the reason, Rhys has always been protective of you—overly so. You know it’s the goodness of his heart that’s speaking, but you still have to take a deep breath to calm yourself. 

“I’m more than capable of learning them. Besides, don’t you think it’s a little too late to prevent me from getting involved with High Lords and their heirs?” you quip.

A pang of guilt tugs at your heartstrings at the remorse on his face. You know it’s a low blow. But even in the presence of your gnawing guilt, the truth behind your words is louder. 

“I promised your mother I would keep you safe,” he rasps, “And I nearly failed her once. I won’t make that mistake again.”

The mention of her makes your heart skip a beat. Your palms grow slick with sweat, and you instinctively rub them against the leather of your pants. His confession sheds light on his recent obsessive behavior—how he prioritized tracking your movements over other pressing matters. Any lingering resentment you held melts away as you shift your approach, grappling with the weight of his words. 

“I understand,” sincerity laces itself in your tone, “But is ensuring my safety really worth it if it comes at the expense of my happiness?”

Rhys opens his mouth, but words fail him. His brows furrow as he mulls over your question. Finally, he’s able to muster a reply, “I want you to be happy, Y/N. But I saw—we all saw how miserable you were when you came back from Autumn, and I struggle to see how continuing to involve you in court politics could bring anything but.”

A chill crawls up your bare arms as a vivid image of your burned wrists flashes through your mind. You glance down at your hands in your lap, flexing your fingers to remind yourself that the wounds are long gone—even though the heartache remains.

“I don’t regret a single moment I spent there,” you reply, lifting your gaze to meet his. “Yes, it brought me pain, and I still bear those wounds. But it also brought me joy.” A sad smile graces your features. “It gave me the greatest adventure of my life. It gave me him—heartbreak, and all its beautiful ruin.”

  A rivulet descends your cheek into the crevice of your smile. A sense of newfound understanding weaves its way between Rhys and yourself. An understanding that the villain in his story may very well be the hero in yours.

“When did you become so wise?” he hums.

A wistful note lingers in your voice as you meet the High Lord’s gaze. “When I realized that wisdom doesn’t come from avoiding the fire, but from walking straight through it and letting it burn away what no longer serves you.”

Rhys’s eyes soften, “And what did it burn away?”

Your voice is quiet, almost a whisper. “Fear. Fear of the unknown, fear of pain, fear of loss. What remains is the understanding that pain and joy, loss and love—they are one and the same. And I would rather live a life touched by both than one shielded from them.”

Rhys leans back in his chair, his expression unreadable, as if weighing every word you’ve spoken. The silence stretches between you, thick with unspoken emotions. Finally, he speaks, his tone resigned but tinged with a deep respect. “If this is the path you choose, then I won’t stand in your way. But promise me that you’ll be careful. That you’ll come to me if you ever need anything—no matter what it is.”

You nod, the weight of his words settling on your shoulders, “I promise.”

He studies you for a long moment, as if committing this version of you—the one who walked through fire and emerged stronger—to memory. The warmth in his eyes is unmistakable as he stands, rounding the desk to pull you into another tight embrace.

“Welcome home, Scholar of the Night Court.”

As you rest your head against his chest, you close your eyes, allowing yourself a moment to simply breathe. This is home. And no matter what lies ahead, you know that you have the strength—and the wisdom—to face it.

taglist:

@selfishlittlebeing @babypeapoddd @scarsandallaz @fourthwing4ever @raginghellfire

@deepestmentalitypersona @lilah-asteria @goldenmagnolias @myromanempiree @i-know-i-can

@hannzoaks @olive-main @lilylilyyyyyy @stuff-i-found-while-crying @moni-cah

 @6000-fandoms @melsunshine @roseodelle @rcarbo1 @paliketerson

@ktz-bb @l-adynesta @asteria33

[igotanidea]

Empty promises: Nikolai Lantsov x reader

A/N: first of all, sorry to everyone wainting for "Traitor", but I felt the need to write something sad and heart wrenching so here;s that. For now. Angst coming right next. Oh, and you have been warned, this is sad. And got spoilers for ep.4/5.

***

„Alina? Are you decent?” Y/n peeked through the door the very second the queen’s seamstress left the room.

“Y/n! Please, come in. It’s so good to see your face.” Alina struggled in the dress “I wish I could greet you properly but I can’t, quite, move in this.”

“Oh, yes, I’ve heard some rumors about certain Saint and the outfit trouble.” Y/N laughed wholeheartedly ”I don’t think it’s really your style, no matter what the queen mother may have to say about that. I may have an idea to save you from that torture though. If, you let me, that is.”

“Please. Anything.” Alina shook her head

“All right then. You know, a tailor would probably be better with the fitting, but as an Inferni I can surely give you something to boost your confidence” Y/N started turning around, picking another outfit for sol koroleva.

“Y/N.” Alina said and the timbre of her voice made the other Grisha stop in her track and look up “How… How are holding up? With me and Nikolai….?”

“I’m fine” Y/N assured quickly. Too quickly to make it believable. “I just ….” She sighed deeply, gathering all the strength she had to finish that sentence “I just wish he told me sooner, you know. Not just leave me like that. Given all we have… had….” she corrected and covered a little tremble by coughing “But he just left me as surprised as any other Grisha in the room when he announced your engagement and  it feels like betrayal, Alina. “ she went silent for a minute “but yes, apart from that I am perfectly fine. Now, let’s focus on the suit.”

“Y/N” Alina grabbed her hand gently “I am sorry for what you are going through right now.”

“Well, we all have our burdens to carry, right? I suppose this is mine.”

“I know it does not make anything better, but I know about heartbreak and making tough choices. Nikolai loves you in a way he would never feel about me. And I feel that for Mal. This is all just a political alliance, nothing more.” Alina assured.

“You know, sancta, when Nikolai left to be Sturmhond I spend two years searching for him, east to west and south to north. And when I did and we got together this was the best time of my life. And I shouldn’t have enjoyed the sea so much, but with him, I did.  And even then I always had this little tingling inside my head. A sneaky voice that was telling me, that we would not last. Turns out I was right. And truly, no one is to blame for that.” The Inferni smiled sadly “This should do the work” she raised the garments she prepared for Alina “I should better go before the seamstress came back. Just for now pretend you’ll wear the dress , all right? Can’t show all the cards at once.” And with such words, she left the chamber, unnoticed by anyone.

The next person to come to Alina was not even remotely as welcomed as Y/N. Vasily came for a little chat coated with veiled threat and perhaps a bit of a warning, but Alina was too strong to let him beguile her.

And then, when time came Nikolai appeared at the door for a little pep talk.

“Well, you look lovely” he smiled eyeing Alina already up and ready in her second army regimentals.

“Y/N came and helped me put this little thing together. So much better than….” Her gaze focused on the dress nearby and the girl rolled her eyes.

“She’s been avoiding me.” The prince said sadly “not that I blame her, but how can she not miss my company even a little? Am I so easily forgettable. She really acts like I’ve grown a pair of horns or started breathing fire…..” he tried to keep his cool and joke around but Alina knew him well enough to see through it.

“She’s an Inferni. A little fire could never discourage her.  But she’s hurt. Twice as much since you kept her in the dark about this whole arrangement.”

“I wanted to save her pain. And possibly myself.”

“’You failed at that.” Alina pouted

“Anyway, I got something to complete the look.” He took a step closer and reached inside his pocket retrieving a green gem “the Lantsov emerald….”

“Nikolai, we don’t have to do this, if it’s too hard. “

“Let’s just keep the pretenses up, shall we? Just remember, shall you decide to punch me, you will probably take my eyes out with this on, and I would not like that.”

***

 “Have you seen Mal?” Alina started spinning around, searching for the one face she so desperately needed to see “It’s not like him to be late.”

“Perhaps your little tracker is not such a fan of festivities as you.” Vasily approached the pair from behind, with some drink in his hand and Alina immediately excused herself, leaving two brothers alone.

“You know, my little brother” Vasily started “I always knew you would not end up with that little Inferni. Why settle for a commoner when there’s a living saint in the palace.” He laughed and took a sip on his drink. “now you will get fire from someone else! I’m sure the Sankta had a lot of it, judging by her actions. And Y/N. Waste of time. She was always a challenge, even when she was a kid.”

“Don’t you dare talking about her like this.” Nikolai hissed, but still kept straight face in a prince-like manner

“Why do you even care at this point, brother? From what I know, she’s been avoiding you, am I right? But look” he pointed out in the crowd, where Y/N was talking to Nadia and Tamar, laughing for the first time in a while “she’s right there. Don’t you wanna talk to her. If has any dignity, which I doubt, she would not cause a scene in public.”

Even though Nikolai knew his brother was only goading him, his brain shut off when legs carried him towards the other side of the ballroom, straight to her.

“Y/N.” he spoke and all three girls turned around, each one of them showing different expression. Tamar was curious of what was going to happen, Nadia a bit stressed out about her friend, and Y/N…. Y/N was just in pain and nothing could have hid it.

“Moi tsarevich”  she bowed, avoiding his eyes

“Please, stop it. Can we… can we talk for a minute? Please.”

“We are  not going to interrupt you….”Nadia started, but Tamar was on the other side of the barricade in the matter.

“I will. I’m not leaving her with you in this state, Nikolai. You know, you are both my friends, but she’s the victim not the other way round. “

“Tamar” Y/N put a hand on her shoulder “it’s all right. It will be just a minute to clarify this little misunderstanding . I’ll be with you before you notice I was gone.”

“I still don’t like it…” Tamar muttered, but let Nadia drag her away to have a little chat with Adrik and watch Alina. When they both left Y/N took a deep breath and before Nikolai was able to say a thing she took the lead of the conversation.

“Nikolai. I don’t really think it’s appropriate to leave your fiancé alone. Especially with Vasiliy acting like a predator tonight.”

“Vasiliy is drunk.”

“He’s been drunk since the age of 18. Remember that time when we played a prank on him and had to run through the palace in the middle of the night?” she smiled

“And when we ended up squeezed in the cupboard to avoid his wrath? Yes, I remember that.” Now they were both laughing outloud “I also remember what happened later on….”

“Nik. Stop it” she warned, her cheeks getting a bit flushed. Of course he had to refer to the moment they shared their first kiss “this is not the time or the place.”

“My feelings for you did not change.”

‘And do you think mine did? But you are engaged now. And I get it, Nik, I really do. You did what you though was right, as always and I can’t blame me for that. We are all pawns in this crazy political game and the point is to minimalize the  damage. If that means you getting with Alina then I cannot interfere. I still be there for you both. Even if it is in the sideline.

“Y/N…. I….”

“It’s all right” she raised her hands almost embracing him, but stopped herself in the last minute. “You should probably go join your family, your mother has been eyeing us for a while now and she knows we have past. Can’t risk anyone getting suspicious, right? Moi tsarevich” she bowed and went back to join Tamar, Adrik and Nadia, who pulled her into a hug.

From then on, everything started happening extremely fast. Vasiliy came onto the podium to gave some mockery speech about his brother, the man of the hour, but in the middle of it, Darkling’s shadow monster decided to drop by and well, cause a little havoc, killing the speaker and some other gathered people. It was chaos. Alina, Tamar, Adrik, Nadia and Y/N were trapped on the one side of the room, while the Lantsov (or rather whatever was left of this family) where stuck on the other.

“They have no heart, no pulse, no nothing!” Tamar exclaimed trying to use her heartrender powers

“Every creature has a weakness” Adrik spit, observing the monsters carefully from behind the table they used as some sort of shield, Y/N following in his steps.

“Those are shadows” the girl said “Look, Adrik, you were right, they have to be in their full form to touch and hurt someone!”

Before another shadow could attack Nikolai and his mother, Adrik came from one side throwing a gust of wind his way, Nadia doing the same on the other. Y/N used this as an opportunity to grab a spark from the nearby candle and throw a fireball straight into the middle of it. For a second, when the monster was tearing apart her gaze met with Nikolai’s who was just frozen like a deer in the spotlight.

“GO!” she yelled at him “Take whoever you can and GO!”

“Everyone into the tunnels!” Nikolai ordered, but before he himself rushed off, he just threw one last glance at his one true love and moved his mouth silently.

“Come back to me.”

***

“You three go find Alina, I’ll go check if there’s anyone lost in the corridors to get them to safety” Y/N commanded her friends ready to run the other way

“Have you lost your mind!?” Tamar spit at her “You are not going anywhere alone.”

“I’ll be fine Tamar.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that from you hundreds times before.”

“And I am still alive. A little bruised and scared but alive. Not planning on dying today, I swear. Alina needs you three and there’s no time, so I’ll just see you downstairs. GO!”

***

 She was running one of the palace corridors, stating with the greatest relief that all the Grisha that were not killed were off the palace and probably on the way to the tunnel. She almost reached the entrance, but mere meters before, another shadow monster blocked her way.

“Oh, Saint!” she hissed annoyed and focused her energy to gather just a little bit of flame since sadly, there wasn’t any external source of it anywhere near. It was always harder to get fire from nothing, but it used to work for her. Most of the times.

Not this one.

The fire that came out of her hands were so weak it barely reached the shadows let alone cause them any harm.

“Oh, shit…” she mumbled when darkness enveloped her whole and tried once again, this time fueled by fury and worry about her friends. Maybe Tamar was right and she shouldn’t have left them. Nonetheless that was not the time to dwell on the past mistakes, since it was extremely hard to breath inside that fog the monster were created from. It was like all of a sudden she found herself in the fold again, broken and scared. “Hell no! I am not dying today” she put her hands up causing a flare and dissipated the shadows finally getting herself free.

If only it wasn’t for that cut with sharp, thorn-like edges on her  leg, which she did not notice or feel.

***

“Is everyone safe?” Nikolai came from one entrance to the tunnels, meeting with Alina and Tamar coming from the opposite.

“Adrik got hurt in the arm, Nadia is with him.” Alina explained “the healers are taking care of the injured. What about the ones you came with?”

“Saved as many as possible” Nikolai turned around “where is …..?”

“That idiotic girl left us and came for the rescue. I told her she should not….” Tamar’s voice broke a little

“Where is she, Tamar?!”

“We… We don’t know…..”

“I’m here!” all the emotions he felt upon hearing her voice where just too much to handle and not caring about anyone  or anything or whether he was acting like an engaged prince he took off running towards her, wrapping arms around her and pulling her close to his chest.

“You’re safe, love. You’re safe.” He whispered again and again caressing her back, tangling fingers In her soft, messy hair and just getting lost in her.

“Nik…” she gasped taking a sharp inhale “I… I don’t really feel so good….” She stumbled a bit and this made him worry.

“I know, darling, but you were so brave up there. You saved my life with that little trick of yours. And you always said you couldn’t do fireballs. Guess me being in danger enhanced your…..”

“Nik, I really do not feel good” she mumbled and all her strength suddenly left her when her legs gave up and she collapsed into his arms, the embrace being the only thing shielding her from falling straight to the ground.

“Y/n? Come on, tell me, what is it, where does it hurt?” he started panicking just in the slightest.

“My leg….”

“May I?” he hesitated before lifting the material of her pants.

“Saints! Stop being a gentleman now! ” Tamar hissed and started tearing the pant-leg “I wish you were this polite at all those night on the ship instead of giving the crew sleepless nights “Oh….”

“How… how bad is it?” Y/N asked, raising her head from where It laid on Nikolai’s chest and he quickly turned her head away.

“It’s gonna be fine” he assured, grabbing her righter and kissing her temple “I’ll get you to a healer, all right?”

“Mhmmm……” she mumbled, slowly losing consciousness.

“I’m gonna lift you now, ok?” one of his hands sneaked around her back, the other went below her legs when he moved her from the ground “you’re gonna be ok, just don’t close your eyes, love.”

Out of instinct Alina wanted to join them on their walk to healers, but Tamar stopped her.

“Don’t” she shook her head, eyes a bit glassy.

“No.” Alina just stated. “Please tell me it’s not….” bus since Tamar was a heartrender there was really no point in arguing.

***

“Nik…. You smell so good.” Y/N hid face in his chest, locking arms around his neck

“I am all sweaty from the fight and running, honey. As much as I love what you are saying I do not smell good.”

“You smell like the ocean.” She smiled lightly “Like the sunny day on volkvolny”

“We’re going to have a thousand more of such days so you could dwell on the smell.”

 “I…. I don’t really think so, Niki.” She hissed in pain when he reached one of the makeshift flop and called upon the healer

“Always a joker, aren’t you?”

“I wish” she started coughing, a little blood appearing on the hand she tried to cover her mouth with. “Tell me the truth, Nik. How bad is it. Cause it hurts like hell.”

“I don’t want to look. I;m not a healer, I don’t have any experience…..”

“You…” she gasped “are a trained soldier. You know about wounds. Tell me.”

“It’s not good” he closed his eyes almost like those words caused him unimaginable pain and grabbed her hands. “but the healers…..”

“The healers have too much work on their hands. And judging by your voice….” She coughed  a bit more

“Sh, don’t say anything more. Let me just… Grigori!” he called upon one of the corporalki “she needs help.”

“Immediately, moi tsar” Grisha answered and it was probably the first time Nikolai realized that he was the king now.

“Moi tsar” Y/N smiled faintly “it suits you so well, lapushka. Auch! It hurts….”

“I’m sorry Y/N, this wound is unusually deep and it seems like there’s some kind of venom in your veins, going straight to the heart and…..” Grigori started slurring

“There’s nothing you can do, right?” she asked simply

“I’m so deeply sorry, Y/N, moi tsar.”

“Not your fault.”

“Leave us.” Nikolai hissed through gritted teeth and Grigori practically run away trying to avoid king’s fury “Y/N….” he leaned toward her, cupping her pale cheek and caressing it gently “I don’t want you to go….”

“Selfish. As usual. You don’t want me to go, mhm. Do you think I…. auch, want to die like this?”

“I need you with me….” He kissed the top of her head

“Selfish. Again. You got the sun summoner now."

"You are my sun."

"Stop flirting with me on .... on my .... death.... deathbed" she squirmed trying to lift herself up but it was too painful “Help… me….” She panted and Nikolai grabbed her waist with one hand and supported her back with another “I don’t have much time left… I feel it almost in my heart….”

“I don’t want to go on without you.” he whispered

“I know.” tears started showing in her eyes and he wiped them away breathing heavily “I’m scared Nik” she admitted trembling “I feel so cold. Can you just hold me? I don’t….” she gulped “I don’t want to go alone….”

“I’m here with you. No matter where you go, afterlife, I will find you, I swear.”

“Not if…ekhem! Oh, saints, it hurts so much” she cried and his heart broke at that sobbing coming from her. The sounds he would never recover from. Reminded that he failed to protect the only person he ever truly loved. And to think she was dying in his arms, while he was about to marry another woman. This was like a punch in the guts “not if I hunt you first.”

“I love you” he just had to say it. Maybe it was selfish again, but he needed to know that were the last words he said to her “I love you and I will always love you.” he kissed her knuckles, looking straight into her eyes. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Nik. And I’m sure you will….” Her voice was becoming so small, so quiet, almost audible in all commotion “… have a long, happy and fulfilled life. You’ll be great king. And a father…. I….” she closed her eyes “I’ll see you later, Nik…..” and just like that there was silence.

And this was the exact moment Tamar clenched her fist and faced the wall, her back to other Grishas so no one would see single tear falling from her eye.  

She said she’ll be fine…….  Empty promises always hurt the receiving end  of those.

***

“Nikolai? We need someone to get everyone together and ….” Zoya was blissfully unaware of the tragedy that just fell upon the king and was her usual self when she entered the part of tunnels were healers were stationed “what… what happened?”  she stuttered at the view in front of her eyes.

Nikolai was not a king at the moment. He was just a broken man who just lost the love of his life. Not crying, just sitting next to her still figure, holding and caressing her cold hand, unable to stop. Almost like he was in a trance. For what he cared the world could stop spinning and it would not make any difference for him. But for her…. He was going to do anything to avenge her death. But he would do that in a second, for now, he just wanted and needed to stay with her a bit more, even if that meant just watching her face, surprisingly peaceful and running a hand through her hair.

If only he could indulge in that greedy need.

“Goodbye, my love….” He whispered planting one final kiss on her forehead and tugging at his hair stood up to protect and guide his people, his subjects.

[ladydaybreaker]

Projects for the Future

Alright so...I kinda got bit by this a while ago but have been mulling it over with some friends. These are by no means going to get published any time soon but with some...questionable...things that have been put out lately I kinda wanted to show my take and how I would have done them.

These are both Role swaps by the way and because I'm me...

That means an absolutely heavy amount of Khori.

(put below the "read more" for mobile people's ease!)

First Story:

Role swap where Uzi had been the one that died that night Nori should have. Now I know what you're thinking, "but lady, you said Khori things..." and you'd be right! 'Cuz Khan's not Uzi's dad in this one. Our DDs are Serial Designation: K, Serial Designation: A and Serial Designation: L (that last one might get changed). Better known as their canon counterparts Khan, Alexei and Liam (again, last one might change). Nori is still the damaged 002 from CFL and Yeva is still 048 as well. What had happened was when Nori and Yeva escaped the labs, Nori was damaged in a way that her memory had shorted out and she barely remembered anything from it...just that there was some dark place that she didn't want to remember and that she had met Yeva there. They had escaped both with two UNNs who became known as Uzi and Doll. At least...Nori came out with Uzi. Her father is unknown (mainly because Nori's memory is damaged) and likely perished in the wake of the collapse trying to get Nori and Uzi out.

Uzi ends up dying as a child from one of the Disassemblers and it absolutely breaks Nori. Nori insists her daughter is ok and alive just...unable to come home. So she waits for a good amount of time every day by the doors until Yeva takes her home or she falls asleep (which Yeva picks her up and brings her back to the apartment). Yeva does not have the heart to tell Nori that Uzi is dead nor does she have the heart to talk about what happened to them down in the labs...about the Solver and everything. Nori's Solver seems to have regressed (but a lot of this is Yeva slipping oil into Nori's drinks and food to make sure she doesn't go into rampage mode). Doll and Yeva's husband (unnammed atm) end up dying to one of the Disassemblers (haven't decided...but it's probably going to be the third one, whether that's L or whatever person I give that swap to). So yay Doll swap is now Yeva.

Nori one day ends up running out of the colony, in a daze probably mourning her daughter and husband when she runs into K. Ends up beating him with a wrench and knocking him into a clear state (or she ends up saving him from a bad hunt where he was injured because she knows that look...and she hates that look of loss and defeat.)

Cue the whole thing of them figuring out what the Solver is yada yada. Ends up going to the labs where K ends up running into (and getting saved by) a very small and grumbly Solver core...Nori was right, Uzi survived. Barely. She's...none too happy her mother's dating a freaking sky demon because "THOSE THINGS KILLED YOUR FREAKING DAUGHTER!" But eventually comes to accept her Mom is...happy. And even more happy with both her AND K in her life...will eventually get it so Uzi gets her own body again. Yeva ends up connecting with A, the big bear of a Disassembler who...may have lost just as much as she did before. Eventually ends up with them having a kid who Yeva names after the daughter she lost long ago.

Second Story

So, this one is also a swap au but...with a tiny little twist. It's an age swap. Yes yes I know this is cringe af and weird but hear me out. I know there's an age swap with Uzi being the Mom and Khan being her son but, imma be blunt, I don't think it...feels like a proper swap. Rather it just...took the original personalities of the person they were swapping with and gave them to the person playing the role. Ain't happening here. The idea is Khan Doorman is the shining star student, valedictorian genius of his class beloved by everyone in that bunker, kinda...weird in the way he's too smart for his own good but he's charismatic. . . and then there's his absolutely batty insane mother Uzi who is a pariah menace to society and everyone fears to get on the bad end of her little 'projects' (she has magnetized people to the ceilings because they pissed her off). Khan and his mother have a strained relationship...mainly because she thinks he's boring and needs to lighten up a bit and he thinks she's a bit...wild...and lashing out ever since his father Emmett Doorman died years ago. But they do love each other and would do anything for each other. Which...is why Khan gives chase to his absolutely insane mother when she sneaks out of the safety of the bunker to kill a Murder Drone. He ends up instead finding Tall, Dark and Pretty Serial Designation (Nori. I haven't quite decided what letter to give her because well...technically it'd be N because first letter). And her squadmates Serial Designation Y(eva) and (haven't figured out who the third one is yet, whoopsies...possibly L for Luke or A for Alice).

Of course, Khan is infected with the Solver, Uzi I haven't decided if she is or not...part of me is like "give her a break and have her just be awesomely crazy and angsty on her own that she made 002 fall head over heels for her". And SD Nori finds Core Emmett in the mines...which would lead to a heartbreaking Nuzi moment later as Uzi actually...breaks the edgy angry persona and shows vulnerability as she hugs the love of her life close to her...as she thought she'd lost him forever. And me being me, Y ends up being enamoured with Khan's best friend and madlad sharpshooter Alexei because you can pry him from my cold dead hands...

I haven't really gotten much on those swaps other than the bits of where Khan, Nori, Yeva, Alexei and Uzi fit in. But I wanted to share them because they've been rattling in my brain long enough...

[musicalmoritz]

Hey uh ,,, do you have any songs that reminds you of tbhk? Like specific characters or relationships ?? (Also I plan on updating my mitsukou playlist I have for coping reasons so some recommendations on that would be nice) ( little cat ^. . ^ / )

OKAY so a little bit embarrassing but the way I listen to music 99% of the time is by imagining my hyperfixations with whatever I’m listening to so I am the perfect person to ask this question. Fair warning tho my music taste does dabble in basic territory. This is gonna be looooooong so fasten your seatbelts

• Using You by Mars Ago is such an AoiAoi song to me. There’s always one specific ship in a fandom that fits this song perfectly and for TBHK that is 100% AoiAoi

• Heart-Shaped Box by Nirvana gives me HakuSumi and Sakuhiko vibes. I lean more towards HakuSumi tho bcuz…well…those of you who know the meaning of this song will get it LOL

• Soooooo many Beetlejuice musical songs remind me of TBHK. I started to make like a whole playlist that told the plot of TBHK through musical theatre songs but I gave up after the Mitsuba arc and it never made it to Spotify. Maybe someday…

• Say My Name from Beetlejuice is obviously very HanaNene coded. And The Whole “Being Dead” Thing is giving Hanako coded. Dead Mom is very Kouded

• I Know It’s Today from the Shrek musical always makes me think of Nene

• Drift Away from Steven Universe…very Yako. Her waiting for Misaki every day before learning he died…oof

• Dear Theodosia from Hamilton Remind’s me of the Minamoto Siblings. With Teru as Burr singing abt Kou and then Kou as Hamilton singing abt Tiara

• Beautiful Boy by John Lennon reminds me of Teru and Kou

• On a similar note, I Wanna Hold Your Hand by The Beatles is soooooooo NeneMei coded. Yes I’m talking abt that scene where Nene asked Mei to hold her hand to trick her in an escape attempt. I think about it often

• Townie by Mitski makes me think of Teru. “I am not gonna be what my daddy wants me to be” yeah…

• Ever since I heard HISS by Megan Thee Stallion it has made me think of Teru. I feel like he would be her biggest fan

• Mine by Taylor Swift works so well for any Aoi ship but specifically Aoinene or AoiAoi. “You made a rebel of a careless man’s careful daughter” I mean c’mon her fears surrounding love all stem from her father abandoning her so yeah

• Okay you specifically asked for Mitsukou so I should probably talk abt them

• To me they are so Lana Del Rey core…Video Games…Ultraviolence…the Diet Mountain Dew demo…Summertime Sadness…Yes I know I’m making her most popular songs, hush

• Line Without A Hook by Ricky Montgomery. It’s extra gut-wrenching when it’s from Mitsuba’s pov imo but it works both ways

• Waving Through A Window from Dear Evan Hansen is so Sousuke core

• All of Taylor Swift’s Red album reminds me of them but specifically All Too Well (both versions), Red, Sad Beautiful Tragic, Stay Stay Stay, Begin Again, Better Man, Come Back…Be Here, The Very First Night, and…yeah basically all of Red (Taylor’s Version)

• Northern Downpour by Panic! At the Disco also makes me think of them, this is embarrassingly my favorite song of all time I can’t lie

• Lacy by Olivia Rodrigo is so Aoinene core, yes I have written a fic abt them with that title (a lot of these come from my fic titles ngl)

• Tainted Love by Soft Cell gives me strong Terukane vibes from Akane’s pov

• I Wanna Dance With Somebody and So Emotional by Whitney Houston both remind me of Aoinene as well, basically all of her album Whitney does ngl

• Edge of Seventeen by Stevie Nicks makes me think of Natsuhiko

• Bernadette by IAMX reminds me of Sakuhiko

• She Liked A Boy by Nxdia is very Aoinene coded

• Stupid With Love from the Mean Girls musical makes me think of MeiAoi, specifically the version with No.4 Mei

• Music of the Night from Phantom of the Opera is canonically Hanako coded like c’mon we have a whole au for this

• In addition, Think Of Mei is very Nene coded, All I Ask Of You is Mitsukouded, Notes is v Terukane coded, and the title song is so HanaNene

• Valley Of The Dolls by Marina is lowkey Aoi core with the whole “pick a personality” line and the concept of losing your identity as a woman due to the boxes society puts us in

• Gemini Moon by Reneé Rapp reminds me of Kou or Akane (mainly bcuz of the “I could never pick a side” line…bi kings)

• Fly Me To The Moon by Frank Sinatra makes me think of HanaNene (any old music does tbh, I have a whole playlist for it)

• Me and My Husband by Mitski is, like, THE Hakusumi song

• There Is A Light And It Never Goes Out by The Smiths is so Mitsukou like “to die by your side is such a heavenly way to die” ?? C’mon

• Violently shaking trying not to name every Fall Out Boy song in existence

• The Pros and Cons of Breathing is SO Aoinene guys (“wish that I was as invisible as you make me feel”)

• Hum Hallelujah could theoretically be Kou

• HOT TO GO! by Chappell Roan is the vibe I have assigned to Minami and Himari

• Stacy’s Mom for Mitsuba’s mother. No elaboration needed.

• You’re On Your Own, Kid by Taylor Swift makes me think of Teru :(

• Lithium by Nirvana reminds me of Akane but also every Nirvana song ever reminds me of Akane, I have assigned Akane to Nirvana

• Whitney Houston’s iconic cover of I Will Always Love You for HanaNene…yes indeed

• Taste by Sabrina Carpenter with Terukaneaoi (Teru sings it to Akane so instead it’s “you’ll just have to taste me while SHE’S kissing you”)

• I have assigned Olivia Rodrigo’s Guts album to HanaNene and Sour to Mitsukou

• Bcuz c’mon, Deja Vu is such a Mitsukou/Soukou song

• Maneater by Daryl Hall & John Oates is Ghost Hotel au Kou and then Maneater by Nelly Furtado is main universe Mitsuba (get it? bcuz cannibalism but also they’re gay-)

• I like the concept of a “maneater” being a gay man and a “womanizer” being a lesbian. Therefore Womanizer by Britney Spears is Mei’s song

• Oops! I Did It Again by Britney Spears is Aoi with AoiAoi

• Espresso by Sabrina Carpenter is Aoimei with OG Mei, Bad Chem is HakuSumi, and Please Please Please is Sakuhiko

• Holding Out For A Hero by Bonnie Tyler is a Natsuteru song I have dubbed it that way

• Landslide by Stevie Nicks is so Aoinene it hurts… “well I’ve been afraid of changing ‘cuz I built my life around you”

• Every Breath You Take by The Police reminds me of Mitsukou from Kou’s pov…my boy can get a little obsessive

• Obsessed by Olivia Rodrigo is THE Sakunene song, especially since Nene thought Sakura was Hanako’s girlfriend when they first met

• Honorable Mention by Fall Out Boy is lowkey Mitsuba like hear me out…or maybe more-so Sousuke

• Their song Pretty In Punk reminds me of both Mitsukou and Hanamitsu

• Two Player Game from Be More Chill is HanaKou and then A Guy That I’d Kinda Be Into is Mitsukou

• Part Of Your World from The Little Mermaid makes me think of Nene and then Poor Unfortunate Souls is Sakura (or Tsukasa). Kiss The Girl is HanaNene or Aoinene

• Kiss Me by Sixpence None The Richer is Terunene, I’m sorry Ik a lot of ppl hate it but I adore them

• On that note of overhated ships I love, Jessie’s Girl by Rick Springfield reminds me of TeruAoi

• Ooooh and Uptown Girl by Billy Joel is a MeiAoi song

• My Girlfriend Is A Witch by October Country is so Aoimei and Sakuhiko core

• I Fall In Love Too Easily by Chet Baker makes me think of Nene

• I could make a whole separate post abt TBHK and Taylor Swift songs so I’m trying not to yap abt her too much but When Emma Falls In Love also reminds me of Nene. And The Archer is Hanako. And Mirrorball is Akane. And The Lucky One is Aoi. And-

• The Masochism Tango by Tom Lehrer is so Mitsukou but specifically the way I write them, you guys have to see the vision (Natsuteru as well)

• Miss You Much by Janet Jackson is lowkey AoiAoi core, ngl I just wanted an excuse to bring up Janet Jackson

• And Escapade by Janet Jackson is Aoinene so real so true

• I have seen ppl attribute Picture You by Chappell Roan to Meinene and I agree. I will add that Casual is Sakuhiko core from Natsuhiko’s pov

• Rock ‘n’ Roll Suicide by David Bowie reminds me of Terukane, both as individual characters and as a ship

• I Know You by Faye Webster is like THE AoiAoi/Terukaneaoi song to me

• Paper Bag by Fiona Apple is Mitsuba to me, trust I will be writing a fic that uses a line from this song as the title (unless it’s already been done before…it’s a very popular song so like that’s possible…)

• Lonely Hearts Club by Marina makes me think of TeruAoi

• Animal Cannibal from Possibly in Michigan fits both Sumire and Mitsuba imo

• No Surprises by Radiohead makes me think of both Teru and Kou

• Please, Please, Please, Let Me Get What I Want by The Smiths also makes me think of Kou

• Our Last Summer by ABBA reminds me of the Severance arc in a very bittersweet way, specifically the ending

• Silver Springs by Fleetwood Mac fits like so many ships. Hakusumi, Mitsukou, HanaNene…

• Killing Me Softly With His Song by Fugees and Ms. Lauryn Hill makes me think of Sumire/Hakusumi

• I Put A Spell On You by Nina Simone is very Sakura core to me

• Heart Of Glass by Blondie with Mitsuba hear me out hear me out

• Smooth Criminal by Micheal Jackson with Aoi and the amount of times she’s almost died lol

• The Boys Of Summer by Don Henley with Hanako and Kou, or Kou/Yokoo/Satou

• Moon River with HanaNene. Now cry.

• Romeo And Juliet by the Indigo Girls with Aoimei

• Psycho Killer by the Talking Heads with Tsukasa

• And circling back to the musical songs. A Lovely Night from La La Land with MeiAoi

• Fight For Me from Heathers with Mitsukou. Candy Store with Terukaneaoi. Seventeen with HanaNene. Meant To Be Yours with any ship tbh these guys are all insane. Lifeboat with Aoi. Much to think about

• Stars from Les Misérables with Teru. Let me repeat. STARS FROM LES MISÉRABLES WITH TERU. He is so Javert coded Javert my babygirl from my favorite piece of media of all time that literally shaped who I am as a person

• Right Where You Left Me by Taylor Swift with Sumire

• Also all of the Sweeney Todd musical gives me TBHK vibes with all the cannibalism, I could make a whole au

• Camisado by Panic! At the Disco with Teru

• No Good Deed from Wicked with Hakubo snapping after Sumire’s death…Hakubo my beloved

• Popular from Wicked with Aoinene, What Is This Feeling? with Terukane

• The Confrontation from Jekyll & Hyde with the Yugi twins

• Don’t Rain On My Parade from Funny Girl with Nene

• Suddenly Seymour from Little Shop Of Horrors with Aoinene, AoiAoi, Mitsukou, or HanaNene

• I like to imagine Unlikely Lovers from Falsettos with Aoinene and Terukane

• Two Wuv by Tally Hall with Teruaoinene

• American Beauty/American Psycho by Fall Out Boy with AoiAoi

Okay I’m cutting myself off because the music + hyperfixation brainrot will never end. I hope this was somewhat enjoyable to ya’ll lol ty for giving me the chance to yap abt this

[kingdaddydaichi]

☆ title: redefining (ch. 11) | ( ch. 10 ) ☆ ( ch. 12 - wip )

☆ pairing: cop!daichi sawamura x single mom!reader

☆ wc: 2.5k

☆ synopsis: four years after leaving your toxic ex, you find yourself a single mom to a 11-year-old boy named musubi, who harbors a lot of misdirected anger. you hear from his fifth grade teacher, mr. suga, more often than your own mother and a resulting friendship is born. meeting suga’s best friend wages a war between your head and your heart - one that challenges everything you think you know about love and police officers. neither are to be trusted. both have left you lost and scared when you needed them the most. so, when a cop comes knocking at love’s door, just how strong is your resolve to keep your heart under lock and key?

☆ warnings/notes: sfw. cop!daichi. mutual pining. angst. domestic disturbance. fear. idk like, the way daichi talks to subi might come across as patriarchal? but it's the way i feel like daichi would speak to him under the specific circumstances, how he knew he would get through to him. i am deeply sorry for the massive real-life time gap between chapters //sob. but i'm committed to finishing this series. my love for daichi and this story is settled deep inside my bones. I'M BACK BITCHES /aff 🫶🏼

she's falling in love now losing control now fighting the truth trying to hide but i think it's alright, girl yeah i think it's alright, girl

losin control - russ

Life can be a rip-roaring bitch sometimes, y'know?

The first week or so after your fallout with Daichi had been relatively easy. The fact that you were still angry at him helped a lot more than you'd have liked to admit. The battle to get him off your mind was constant, but all you had to do was remember the way his eyebrows angled inward when he yelled at you. You’d never seen him like that before and it had scared you, triggering your fight or flight response on top of the heart-wrenching pain of seeing him being a little too friendly with his ex.

But what you kept pushing down with all of your might was the fact that daichi was right. He had called you on everything you’d worked so hard to hide from him. The fact that he’d seen you so clearly scared you more than the look in his eyes when he raised his voice at you. He had been angry, yes. But a lot of hurt had weaved its way into his words as well.

Halfway through the second week, however, things started to go downhill. You found yourself reaching for your phone a couple of times to tell Daichi about something ridiculous or funny that had happened only for your fingers to stop short as your heart sank.

Oh. right. I'm not supposed to do that anymore.

You’d even tried venting to Suga about Daichi in hopes that he would validate you, but he wasn’t as sympathetic towards your plight as you would’ve liked: “But isn’t this what you wanted?” he'd said. “You’ve been saying that whatever the hell was going on between you two had an expiration date…” “You’re right. It’s probably better this way so you and Daichi can each find the people you wanna be with...” That last one had really dug deep - the thought of Daichi with anyone else made your heart splinter and your stomach wretch. But you had swallowed your heartache down with the lump in your throat and nodded with a meek “Yeah, exactly,” knowing deep in your bones that you didn’t mean a word of it. Suga knew it too.

The week after that was the week from hell. Crying in bed every night because you missed Daichi so much was made that much worse by your shitty week. Life could’ve just given you a normal week but NOPE. Every single day, multiple times a day, you’d pick up your phone to send him an angry text about your boss or the rude ass lady at the grocery store. Or the fact that some really, really important notarized legal documents got lost in the mail. Three trips to UPS, two trips to the post office, and $91.00 later the paperwork finally reached its intended destination via next day air. You wanted to ask him to arrest the incompetent twat who put your mailer on the wrong truck in the first place and then smile at his reaction. To top it all off, your son’s behavior had hit an all-time low. You’d been hoping that it would’ve improved after the disciplinary hearing, which Subi had attended as well but, if anything, his behavior at home had gotten worse too.

You wanted to call Daichi. You wanted him to come over and hold you as you curled into a ball against his chest. To feel his hands in your hair and his lips on your forehead telling you that ‘everything’s gonna be okay’. Because you’d believe it If Daichi was the one saying it. He’d make sure of it. But you couldn’t do any of those things and it made you cry. Like getting kicked when you’re already down.

Daichi didn’t have it much better. 

He’d called and apologized to Yui, who had called him a “fucking asshole”. There was the drunk driver who had puked on him while doing his field sobriety test (he probably deserved that, he’d guessed). Then there was the day he got stuck directing traffic in a torrential downpour. The police-issued waterproof ponchos had done nothing for his wet socks and the sloshing in his shoes. 

There were also all the little annoying things that kept happening to him - his washing machine quit working (mid-cycle, no less), he got a flat tire (in a different torrential downpour), he stubbed his toe one morning while getting out of bed (talk about a rude awakening) - nothing too serious but just enough to piss him off. 

The worst of it was finding out his mom had to be hospitalized for Covid. She had to be on oxygen, but the prognosis was good. She was expected to be okay and eventually make a full recovery, but of course it made him worry about her nonetheless.

And through every bit of it, you were on his mind. He missed you something fierce. But some of the things you’d said still weighed on his heart:

“...how cruel can you be?” “You’re not even my type.” “Just go back in there and fuck your ex-girlfriend!”

That last one had hurt the most. Did you really think that lowly of him to think he’d do that to you? 

To be fair, he also remembered some of the things he’d said to you:

“Would you have liked it better if i’d introduced you as my fuck buddy…?” “What? Not toxic enough for ya?” “...you don’t have to be a jealous girlfriend about it…!”

They made him cringe every time he remembered. Sometimes the words you had thrown at each other kept him up at night.

Tonight was one of those nights…

Daichi was reading in bed, trying to take his mind off of you when his phone buzzed on his nightstand. Thinking it must be work-related at this time of night, he picked it up to see who was calling. When he saw your name on the screen, his heart wanted to claw its way out of his chest. What could you possibly want? Best case scenario was you wanted to apologize, but that could wait until tomorrow. If you didn’t want him to make you a priority anymore, he was going to honor that. Worst case scenario was you were reaching out to him for another booty call, and he was done with that. 

Either way, he let your call go to voicemail, but just as he was about to put his phone back down, your text came through as three little numbers:

911

Daichi sat bolt upright and immediately tapped the call button. Halfway through the first ring, you answered. “Daichi?” You were crying and he could hear a young man’s voice yelling in the background.

He sat forward in his seat, wide brown eyes darting this way and that. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s Subi,” you cried. There was a loud bang accompanied by a muffled sob from you. “He threatened to hurt me and now he’s throwing things…”

Before you could say anything else, daichi was on his feet, throwing on a pair of sweats and a hoodie before heading for his front door. “You at home?”

“Y-yes.” you were crying so hard you were wheezing. “Daichi, please…please help?”

“I’m on my way.” His voice was remarkably low and stern and comforting as he told you to go inside your bedroom, lock the door, and stay there. He made sure you didn’t have any injuries and stayed on the phone with you for the 10 mins it took for him to get there. It normally took twice that long to drive from his place to yours, but he had his blue lights on, going well over the speed limit. 

“Daichi, I’m so scared,” you sobbed. 

“I’m almost there, (y/n). Just five more minutes. Come on, deep breaths.” He talked you down enough that you weren’t crying as hard. “Alright, I’m here. Do you know if he’s still in the house?” 

“Yeah, I can hear him. But the front door is locked.” 

“Do you feel safe enough to come out of your room and open it?” 

You’d heard Subi’s voice getting further away and the slamming of his bedroom door. “Yeah, I think so.” 

You slowly came out of your room and hurried to the front door, nearly collapsing in Daichi’s arms when you swung it open. He hugged you and told you everything was okay. He walked inside slowly, noticing some broken glass and other, obviously thrown, objects on the floor, and called your son’s name. Your pre-teen came out of his bedroom to find a man he didn’t recognize standing in the living room. 

“Who’re you?” he asked. 

“I’m Daichi, a friend of your mom’s. You must be Musubi.” 

Musubi narrowed his eyes at him and shrugged in response. 

“What’s been going on, man?” 

Your son crossed his arms over his chest. “Maybe it’s none of your business.” 

Daichi’s dark brown eyes remained steady on him. “Well, seeing as how your mom is my friend and she’s scared and crying, I’d say it is my business.” 

The boy rolled his eyes. “Whatever. It’s not that big of a deal-“ 

“Wrong again. Your mom doesn’t feel safe in her own home. That’s a problem. It’s just the two of you living here, right?” 

Subi shrugged. “Yeah, so?”

“Then that makes you man of the house, doesn’t it?” 

Your son’s eyes met Daichi’s for the first time since he first spoke to him. “Yeah, I guess.” 

“And as the man of the house, don’t you think it’s your job to protect everyone in it, including your mom?” 

The boy didn’t respond, but his facial muscles relaxed as he maintained eye contact with Daichi. He had his undivided attention now. He was speaking to him man to man and your son was listening intently. 

“It’s a big responsibility to be in your position,” Daichi went on, nodding towards you. “Your mother and her safety are under your watch. She doesn’t feel safe with you when you’re the one who’s supposed to be protecting her.” The off-duty police officer's voice remained calm and even as he tilted his head. “So tell me, Musubi: do you really think you’re qualified to be man of the house?” 

You watched and listened with awe as Daichi took command over the situation, showing Subi what it means to be in full control. He leveled with your son while making him feel validated and understood. Rather than telling Subi how he should talk to you, Daichi did far more by showing him what it means to be a good man; he was teaching Subi how to treat others with respect in the way he spoke to him - by demonstrating to him that you get respect from others by being respectable.

Your son’s gaze fell under the weight of Daichi’s words. His beliefs about what it means to be a “man” had just been challenged and shaken to the core. He thought it meant being loud and aggressive, lording over others, calling the shots and expecting others to submit to him - no doubt all the tactics he’d learned from watching his father. 

“You think you’re in control here? Because, from where I’m standing, it doesn’t look like it.” The boy’s gaze followed Daichi’s as he looked around at the broken items in the room before looking over at you, still trembling and sniffling. “If you lose control, it means you don’t have it, Musubi. It’s that simple. Do we have an understanding?” 

The boy’s eyes locked with Daichi’s again and he nodded. 

“Good man. Now,” Daichi said with quiet authority, “Clean up the mess you made.” It wasn’t a request.

“Yes, sir,” Subi murmured as he started picking up the pieces. 

You couldn’t believe the words that just came out of your son’s mouth. Yes, sir? You looked up at Daichi - The Musubi Whisperer - wide-eyed and slack-jawed. Never even raised his voice and had him under his complete command. 

“(Y/n), can I talk to you for a minute in the kitchen?” Daichi said it just loudly enough that your son could hear how his mother should be talked to - by asking, not demanding. 

“Of course.” You followed Daichi until your son was out of earshot, then whispered, “How the fuck did you just do that?” 

Daichi shrugged. “I’ve had a lot of experience. Oldest of 5 kids. Team captain. Cop.” You smiled and nodded, wiping the last of your tears away. He put a tentative hand on your shoulder. “You okay, (y/n)?” 

“I think so,” you sniffed, wiping your freshest tear away with your shirt sleeve. “I’m so sorry to have troubled you, but you were the first person i thought of-” 

Daichi shook his head and pulled you into his arms. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I’m glad you called me.”

Whether it was the catharsis from the highly charged situation or your need to feel Daichi close was irrelevant when you fastened yourself to him. Before you could think, your arms were around his waist and your head tucked against his chest. 

“Thank you,” you said, your shaky voice muffled by the warmth and weight of Daichi’s arms wrapping tightly around you.

“If it happens again, call me again. If you need anything at all, call me,” he said, rubbing your back. This was the Daichi you’d known all along and fucking hell, you missed him.

You tightened your hold around his waist. You were so immensely relieved to hear him say that. Maybe he still wanted to be the one you called. Just maybe he wanted to be the one you needed. 

“I will,” you said, nodding against his chest.

Before he left that night, he shook Subi's hand. “Take care of your mom.” 

“Yes, sir.” Holy hell, there it was again. Daichi hadn’t even told him to call him sir. Leastways, not with words. How did he do that?

“Do I have your word?” Daichi asked, squeezing Subi’s hand. “Yes, sir.”

“Alright, I’ll stop by in a couple days to see how things are going," he looked at you, "...if that's okay." 

Your son’s lips pursed as he fought back a smile as he watched you nod. “Okay.” 

After Daichi left, Subi said, “You should find a guy like him, Mom.”

Your mouth dropped open, your heart skipping a million beats. Your son had no idea who Daichi was, what he did for a living, or the highly complicated nature of your relationship with him. Finally, you smiled and said, “Yeah? He’s a good guy, huh?”

He shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged. “He’s alright.”

Your son turned to you with his shoulders slumped and tears in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Mom.” 

Your body shook with tears as you nodded against his shoulder. “I know, baby. I love you so much.” 

Subi squeezed you tighter as he told you he loved you too.

ch. 10 ☆ ch. 12 (wip)

series mlist | daichi mlist

☆ taglist: @chaoskrakenuwu ☆ @ceo-of-daichi ☆ @honeybunny-sawamura ☆ @yuujispinkhair ☆ @luvkun4 ☆ @briokayama ☆ @mrs-sawamura ☆ @heroesfan101 ☆ @millenialfanfictionaddiction ☆ @citrustsuki ☆ @darthferbert ☆ @crystal-lilac ☆ @hannas16 ☆ @cookiesandmilksx ☆ @strawberrystepmom ☆ @anejuuuuoy ☆ @maexc ☆ @little-ms-awkward ☆ @patheticliesblog ☆ @strawbmarma ☆ @lomons ☆ @victorianhorrors @gazzybums ++ ask/dm/comment if you wanna be added to or removed from a taglist

[amailboxlemur]

Simon thoughts for season 3

My poor poor baby 💔💔💔💔

I love Simon. So much. And this season… he’s really going through it. Like the Erik bombshell really took over in episode 5 but up until then I genuinely think Simon was even more of a main character than Wille. I’m so glad they brought him back to the forefront this season.

Right off the bat, Simon is uncomfortable this season. He wants the trial? Settlement? Legal process? To just be over with. He hates that his classmates are staring at him. He wishes Wille gave him a heads up before the speech so he could have prepared himself.

His family life is a mess. Linda has finally clocked what’s going on and doesn’t trust him. Like I get it, he did steal and sell drugs. But also, he’s not using and more than anything he just got himself into a messed up situation. And it feels unfair that she missed what was going on for so long but now that she knows she’s acting like Simon is CURRENTLY drug dealing. Seeing him breakdown to Linda was absolutely heart wrenching, I’ve been waiting for the Simon breakdown and Omar did not disappoint.

And he’s not speaking to Sara. After doing everything to protect her for years she’s betrayed him in the worst way. I also think it’s interesting that they really leaned into SARA hating Micke and Simon only cut him off for her sake. After she comes home crying when Micke disappoints yet again it seems they’re on the path to mending their relationship but we’re not there yet.

Then there’s the online hate. It’s so easy to fall prey to the endless stream of negativity. Wille doesn’t understand, it’s always been his life and he’s probably at least somewhat accustomed to tuning it out. So Simon feels so alone in this. I also think the “the ones that like me only like me because I’m with wille” comment is very telling. It probably feels so fake and shallow to him. There’s also the “typical Latino” comment which… ick. I can’t imagine that’s the only comment of the sort out there.

So what does Simon do? He tries to carve out some positivity. He posts his song and receives some good comments immediately. He meets a young child who looks up to him. And gets a call right away from Wille that kind of… deflates his good mood. Why is Wille being left to “handle” Simon. And I can understand Wille trying to be gentle about it, but Simon just doesn’t understand the “rules” of the Royal court. It’s just an all around mess.

And then it gets worse. He starts getting hate comments even on his song. The kids at school are making fun of him. He even says he doesn’t love singing anymore which breaks my heart because music has always defined Simon. He gets a rock thrown through his window!! And the police are saying “ah yes, probably just a prank”.

No wonder he deletes his social media, no wonder he’s deleting himself. Nothing he does is right. The moment he gives in and joins the hillerska protest is so heartbreaking. From now on, these are the only ideals he gets to stand up for.

But he’s still insecure about his place with Wille. When Wille is distant after finding out about Erik, Simon immediately thinks he’s the problem, that he’s asking too many questions about what to wear to Wille’s birthday.

I want wilmon endgame. I believe in wilmon endgame. But Simon absolutely needed to take that pause at the end of episode 5. I hope they can save what they have without breaking up first. I hope they can have a genuinely honest all cards on the table conversation. I hope Simon can really let himself be fully vulnerable. And I hope to god wille listens, hears him and moves heaven and earth to make the situation better for Simon. Because the way it’s been going isn’t working.

I also can’t post this without a massive WOW to Omar’s acting this season. The role of Simon has always been complex but subtle. This season he really brings it with the big emotions.

[starsofang]

Hey… hey… how y’all doing?

I’m just going to slowly ignore that fact that this is very late and I totally was asleep all yesterday. That’s my excuse, angie. I SWEAR!!! Pinky swear!

Anyway! SOAP😭 I’ve said it so many times and to be fair you’re probably tired of hearing it but I love the way you write him. I can’t even begin to put the feeling into words. I’m always down for funny, a little dumb, Soap. But the way you write him is so amazing. He’s smart but funny, he’s got good humor but isn’t totally and annoyingly obnoxious. He’s obviously very strong, which wow, is very hot just so you know. Finding someone who writes Soap like you do is so hard and I’m so jealous that you can do it.

I could practically hear his heart break though :((( you can’t give ANY OF THEM happiness can you. SHE SAID ONLY GAZ AND PRICE😭😭😭😭😭😭 I COULD HEAR SOAPS HEART BREAK😭😭😭 I don’t think he’ll tell those two, either out of privacy for her or jealousy for him. But it makes me wonder if she’s even under the impression that she likes Ghost and Soap? Has she even realized it? Have they even interacted enough for her to think that she might have some type of feelings for them.

Soap was so gentle with her too. He assured her that he wouldn’t do anything untoward to her and was attempting to keep her calm when he saw just how bad the bruise was. Which makes me wonder just how bad it really is.

Nurse rant incoming: Broken ribs without treatment can be deadly. Sepsis and other types of infections can seriously hurt her. I don’t know if you’re going that way but seriously, that’s so insane. Not to mention, if he steps in certain places on her ribs, if he breaks one it could puncture whatever it was protecting. By the way you describe where the bruising is, I’d take a wild guess and say, if a kid came into my ER with that bruising, I’d immediately think that some internal bleeding and maybe a punctured pancreas could be going on but that’s also because I read how he was STEPPING on her.

BUT aside from that. John😭😭😭😭😭Price😭😭😭😭😭 He doesn’t even know why she want’s to go back home and the fact that he agreed anyways is absolutely gut wrenching. He cares so much for her and I always had faith that he truly was a good man. Take that John Price Haters😒🫵🏻 Though what does worry me is that they burned down her entire village, yes? She’s going to be heartbroken if they really do take her back to her home. Even if she’s going there to help her figure out her dream (which what the fuck?????) Her entire village and people are dead. I don’t think she’ll pull away from them but she might be heartbroken all over again.

Alsooooo, I didn’t really know how to interpret this part but is Soap now aware that she knows about him and Ghost? Did he take it as a joke? Maybe Is accidentally skipped over a very important part which probably wouldn’t be surprising. Also are all four of them already involved but we just don’t know it yet? If so you probably won’t tell me. Traitor 😒

Have the night you deserve angie, I’m coming for you. 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

hi babes 😜 fancy seeing u here like. four days late. oops.

i’m never tired of hearing it pookie, soap is just probably my favorite (besides gaz 😫) and i feel like it’s evident in the way i write him. it’s peak favoritism at its finest. he’s funny, charming, but also hot when he’s angry LORD he’s the package

love ur lil nurse rants because i genuinely wing the fuck out of injuries, especially dove’s. like. i work as a pharmacist. i deal with drugs. idk shit about injuries except how to make the boo boo feel better and obviously on a pirate ship i can’t even do that because hello, i don’t think oxy was invented yet 😭 who would just carry that around. gotta wing her medicines too that she can’t even use. damn anyway it puts things into perspective for me and i’m coming to you for health advice soon mwah

price the man u are. yeah nah she definitely gonna be hit with reality as soon as she sees that crispy ass village again but yknow what? she asked for it. plus going back is important and you’ll find out why 😚

i like to think soap knows. i kind of put it up for interpretation but let’s be honest they’re not very subtle. who leaves the door open when you’re kissing a homie. hello? not him

as for all of them being involved? four men on a ship together gets lonely. i’ll leave it at that.

love u as always 😙

[hyog-blog]

The Story of Pearl Girl (ep. 18)

An episode we've all been absolutely not waiting for, but here we are. It was as gut-wrenching and hit-you-in-the-face-punching as I expected it to be, but it still hurt. Like yeah, I know it's a cdrama and this type of not-really-plot-twist was inevitable, but you can never not hope for something different.

The plot is surprisingly consistent. Having almost lost Duan Wu to the bandits, Yan Zijing makes the only sane decision a man could make in this situation. No, not ditch the whole vengeance thing, that would have been too perfect and totally out of his character.

Although, I do hope he gets his epiphany at some point and decides there are better things to do in life than that. But he decides to leave Duan Wu behind using the good 'ol drug-your-drink stunt. Alas, it was too late, and the bad guys came to meet him, instead of waiting for him patiently in their bandit's den.

It seems that someone in the higher circles of power is in cahoots with the baddies - the army that was supposed to help YZJ in his mission got stopped last minute and the 2ML had to venture into the wild leading just a group of General's guards, who may or may not have been plenty. What a coincidence, huh?

The bandits infiltrated Yan Zijin's convoy (somehow, we don't know the details, our boy obviously didn't do a good enough screening procedure while hiring his people). Either this or they'd been following him around for years in his convoy - in that case, I have questions for the Big Bad Boss. Long-distance relationships rarely work out (but in this case, from his point of view, they kinda sorta did). YZJ did end up coming back to the desert and it didn't end well for him.

I'm not revealing too many spoilers, but it's a sad-sad episode, so you should brace yourselves for a heart-aching evening if you're planning to watch it now.

In terms of visuals, it's still stunning and the fighting sequences are all quite believable.

Duan Wu got kidnapped for a moment there, but the whole thing wasn't too dramatic. I don't know if it was supposed to be like that but it felt more like a means to the end - something that would make YZJ decide to leave her behind.

I can't really blame the guy. She's a fighter, but not an exceptional one. And his mission turned out to be deadlier than everyone thought.

YZJ is a mix of gentleness toward his girl and revenge finally being served (at least partly). Liu Yuning fits this character remarkably well. Going from soft to stabby in a matter of seconds.

Of course, she doesn't know ALL the bad news. The Big Bad Boss is vicious enough not to kill YZJ directly, but to take away all hope of him getting better (because POISON, yes, good old, good old).

The show finally remembered it is, indeed, dark and gritty, and the memories of cute fluff were devoured by smoke and fire.

We also got a glimpse into Kang Ju and Yan Zijing's past when they were running away from the bandits - the boys had it rough. And they're having it rough once again.

On a brighter note, Zhang Jinran looks a tad bit funny in this armor XD That's probably the only positive thing that can be said about this episode. Oh, and kudos to him for leaving Duanwu's girlie friend behind. That desert is too deadly for pretty ladies.

[androgynousblackbox]

How I Met Your Father. 11 [Appleradio, Radioapple]

AO3 link

How We Got Separated

"Where are you going?" Emily asked, floating behind him.

Alastor did not answer. He kept making his way to the main doors that thankfully were easy to find. The door that he came out from was one of many in an ample circle full of other ones, but he could not care less to find out what was behind them. There were no other angels or winged creatures present. Only Emily that seemed to be more curious to know what he was planning than to stop him.

When Alastor opened up the crystal doors, he had to squint his eyes again. Why did everything in this place had to be so bright? How did anyone could see anything like that? As soon his vision adjusted, his stomach dropped through the floor back to home.

The sky was a clear perfect blue, decorated with fluffy white clouds. All the street were spotless shinny gold reflecting that could reflect anything like a mirror. Not a single trace of vomit, trash or blood as far the eyes could see. Nobody was fighting or yelling. Every creature that was passing by had their own set of wings and halo.

The air he was breathing in was too pure. It smelled vaguely pleasant, like someone was baking cookies everywhere at the same time. So perfectly organized, so immaculate that surely not even a pin would be out of place without getting fixed.

Alastor felt his own soul snearing. How could anything be so vile? How did anyone could live like this and not want to blow their head off to scape it? Where was the chaos? Where was the violence and grossness of the human condition? Where was the power struggle and the heart wrenching failure? Where was the fear that pumped the heart? Why nobody was screaming!?

What kind of monster could set up such a setting for eternity?

Controlling his own nausea, Alastor forced himself to move. He had already seen where he wanted to go. Emily noticed the direction of his eyes and perked up.

"Oh, do you want to see Saint Peter?" asked.

"Yes" said without looking at her.

The creatures that were on his way all moved to let him pass. They weren't doing it out of fear for knowing his reputation. They were just being polite. Some even said "excuse me" as if somehow it was their mistake that Alastor wasn't paying any attention to them.

Hell.

This place had to be the real hell after all. It made sense. He had too much fun back at home and now finally was receiving the punishment he deserved. His own personal hell. And he was called cruel? Oh, whatever he ever did, alive or dead, was child's play compared with the sadistic mind that would make such a horror as this one.

Alastor speed up.

"I can take you with him directly if you want" offered Emily, keeping up easily with him.

"No, thank you" said Alastor, clenching his jaw. "I missed the part where you explain why you are following me."

"Well, you seem… a little upset. And it's my job to spread joy to everyone so, I should probably do something with that. If there is any way in which I help you out to adapt better to Heaven, please let me know."

"Joy?" Alastor laughed, like that was a foreign idea. In this place at least it was and certainly more with this creature that was annoyingly remind him to Charlie. Good grief, that would be just the best way to torture him. To twist the knife on his gut real good. "Are you part of my punishment too?"

"What?" When Alastor didn't clarified any further, she continued, concern layering her voice. "I am… Are you okay? Maybe the travel was too abrupt and left you confused? I assure you, nobody is here to punish you. The punishment is over actually! You don't have to worry about anything anymore."

Alastor stopped on his tracks and turned to her.

"I assure you, my dear. I am very well aware and conscious of my surroundings" said, his smile feeling tense as his eye twitched. "That is not the issue I am facing. If you care about my wellbeing, you can rest easy now and come back to your heavinly duties. I don't need a babysitter."

Emily pouted at that. Clearly, she wasn't used to people rejecting her help. He started walking again and she didn't stay behind.

"I am not trying to babysit you!" she protested, floating at his side. "You are obviously going through something right now and a friendly hand goes a long way! If you let me help you, I am sure you will feel better."

Alastor looked around them, almost expecting mocking faces or people to look weirded out at anyone trying to be caring out of in the open. But everyone just kept walking, trusting that whatever was happening this Emily would know how to handle it already. That also meant that nobody was going to do anything to take this angel off his back if she decided to stick around.

He mentally groaned. Maybe if he played along for a bit she would be convinced to leave him alone.

"I changed my mind. Take me to Saint Peter" said and after a beat, added. "Please."

Emily arched an eyebrow, but she still smiled with a nod.

"Of course. I understand that for new souls it's always difficult to adapt to their wings. Later I can teach you how to handle yours! Lift your arms."

"My what" Alastor lifted his arms, trying to look at his back when suddenly Emily took him by the hands, elevating him on the air.

The travel up to the gold gates he had seen at a distance lasted only a few minutes. Emily let him land softly on the ground and floated to knock on the gate.

"Peter, can you come in for a moment? A new soul that just arrived wants to speak to you."

"Sure!" A perky voice answered on the other side and the gates opened. Alastor saw another road of gold up ahead that got lost in more clouds, no clear beggining or end. If he managed to jump from it, would he be able to get home or would just be a splatter on Earth, only to be brought back again? "What I can help you with?"

Alastor looked up to the saint and something inside recoiled at his too big openly friendly smile, full of good disposition to spare laid out in the open. Was this man ever really a human? Where was his nose? What did Heaven had against noses?

"I wanted to ask if you can see my name" said Alastor, after swallowing. "I believe there must have been a mistake. I shouldn't be here."

"Well, my friend, if you are here it must be because you are supposed to be here! Although it is weird that you didn't appear here directly. I am supposed to be the one to greet the new ones, not you, Emily" commented Saint Peter with a slight frown.

"That is because he is a reformed soul!" intervened Emily enthusiastically. "He appeared right in front of me and Sera at the very center of everything! That must be why he had a different way of entrance."

"Oh, seriously? Reformed from where?" Saint Peter looked at him with a new look of curiosity and Alastor showed his teeth on a too wide smile too, more than willing to bite if he put his hand on him. Saint Peter made a oh sound when understading reached him. "From downstairs. Right. Yeah, I can see that now. He is still a bit… rough around the edges, huh?"

"I am sure a period of adjustment is to be expected" said Emily, conciliatory.

"I will say. But anyway!" Saint Peter shrugged, elevating himself on the air to reach his book. With a flick of his wrist the thick volume floated in front of him, the pages moving from front to back. "I can take a look if that makes you feel any better. Your name, please?"

"Alastor… " Alastor looked down at his hand to see that his wedding ring was gone.

He was expecting something like that, it was only logical, but actually seeing it was still a new kick to the face. To make it even worse, his hands were so different now. The skin of his hands was desaturated brown instead of pure black and the tips of his fingers had lost their intense red color, turning into a muted pink. If Charlie was there, people wouldn't connect them directly as father and daughter even if they did paid attention.

"Alastor… what?" asked Saint Peter.

Alastor frowned. Did that last name even applied to him anymore? They had taken his colors, his family, why not his last name too?

"Try Morningstar" suggested anyway, without noticing the way that Emily's eyes light up. "If that doesn't appear, Abaddon."

"Morningstar?!" repeated Emily, looking him down and up. She gasped, holding her own cheeks. "Are you the father of Charlie Morningstar by any chance? I did heard that one of her parents was a sinner! I knooow…" The eyes of Emily darted for a second to Saint Peter, concentrated on looking in his book. "I mean, I didn't know that you were him! What a coincidence that you would be the first success of her hotel!"

The way she laughed, keeping tabs on Saint Peter, concentrated on his book, made Alastor suddenly a bit more interested on her. He decided to save that as a mental note for later.

"I am" said, relaxing a bit more around her.

Charlie did mentioned a seraphim that was willing to listen and believed on her ideals just as much as she did. This one had to be it. Emily smiled again, taking his hand to pat it gently. Alastor allowed her to.

"She would be so proud of seeing you right now."

He just let the silence fill the space until Saint Peter spoke up again.

"You are here" said, floating close to Alastor. He turned the book around so Alastor could see his name, at the very bottom, written with the same golden ink as any other. "Right there, see? Alastor Morningstar."

A small comfort, but a comfort all the same. Alastor clinged to that feeling as strong as he could. That is right, that was him. He was part of the Morningstar family, ring or not.

"I suppose you don't actually know why, though" said, knowing already that it was useless and useless it was when Saint Peter shrugged.

"Sorry, not my job" said, returning the book to its place. "Is there anything else I can do?"

Alastor looked at the saint and then at the gates.

"Oh no! What is that horrible thing over there?" Alastor pointed at something on the side.

When both angel and saint turned their heads, he made his way to the open gates. The stupidest and oldest tricks on the book sometimes could still work. But even though he was sure that his feet landed on the other side, he felt a pressure around him as if moving through a wave and suddenly found himself in the exact same place where he started.

"What are you doing?" asked Saint Peter, honestly confused.

Alastor grunted and ran again. For a second he thought this was working, only to be pushed back.

"Is… is he trying to leave?" Saint Peter looked to Emily to confirm that his eyes weren't deceiving him. Nobody had ever tried to leave.

"Mmm" Emily frowned with concern when Alastor raced a long way back and then throw himself to the open gates, with the expected result of landing on the floor over his side. He couldn't get hurt, but still it wasn't something she liked to see. "Alastor, I don't think that is going to work."

Alastor glared at her. The sudden rage behind his eyes took her aback, but did not scared her and that was even worse for his mood. She had no reason to fear him. Here they were on her home. She had the power and ranking over him, which meant he was at her mercy.

Emily offered him her hand to help stand up and Alastor took it. But instead of lifting himself up, he pulled the angel closer and spoke to her on a low, controlled, voice, just for her ears.

"Get me out of here or I will tell everyone you helped out the king of hell to have an unofficial meeting with a winner. Let's see what the rest of heaven thinks of a seraphim that is supposed to spread joy breaking the rules."

"Everything okay?" asked Saint Peter.

"Yes!" said Emily, quickly, turning around to him. Alastor was relieved to see that he had hit the nail on the head. He wasn't entirely sure she was the same seraphim when he said that. "Everything is perfect! Alastor was just… playing a little prank, right? Right, Alastor? A little joke for Peter?"

That was more like it.

"Yes, a prank" said, returning to his normal charming smile. "A winner trying to escape heaven after finally managing to get out of hell! Tell me if that is not the hilarious thing you have ever heard."

"Ooh, I get it now!" Saint Peter laughed, so hard that his eyes started to tear up. "That is hilarious! You would have to be an idiot to do a thing like that!" He calmed down finally, smiling to Emily. "Heaven could always do with another kidder, right? Makes things more interesting."

"Absolutely, yes" Emily bite her lip. "But, uh, I have to give Alastor the tour now. You know the drill! I will let you get back to work."

"Don't worry, it was a slow day anyway so I needed the distraction" Saint Peter chuckled as he patted the back of Alastor, completely missing the look full of murderous intent that he got as a response as he flew to the other side of the entrance no issue. "Welcome to heaven, Alastor. Feel free to come by anytime!"

"Thanks for your help!" said Emily, waving at the man until the gates were closed. Once she was sure they weren't moving anymore and therefore Saint Peter couldn't hear them, she turned to Alastor with tense fists at her side. "You know, when someone does a favor for you, most people would be grateful instead of holding it over their heads by blackmailing them!"

"I was grateful" said Alastor calmly", right until I got stuck here against my will. I was perfectly content back in hell."

Emily's eyes widened at that.

"Wait, really? I thought the hotel was for redemption. Isn't end up here supposed to be the goal?"

"Mine wasn't. I was only there to support Charlie" Alastor sighed, rubbing his temple. This is what it got him try to be a good father. "I had a daughter, a husband and a life I had built for myself after years of hardwork. Why, and pardon my french, the hell would I want to give up any of that to be here?"

"Oh" Emily looked down, twisting her hands together. "I-I am sorry, I didn't know. I thought this was what you were looking for. If you didn't, then of course you would be upset to being send to an entirely different realm."

Alastor let his shoulder fall. Truly, she wasn't more to blame for his situation than anything else was. At least she was able to actually listen instead of insisting how lucky he should feel for being there.

"I have to get back. My family needs me" Emily nodded, but her eyes still had doubt on them. Alastor crossed his arms. "Surely there must be a precedent to a soul being send back to hell. If my husband managed to get kicked out from here, there is no reason why I shouldn't."

"Your… Oh, right, Lucifer. I don't know, Alastor. Angels and human souls are not really treated the same. I think maybe the rules are a bit more strict for us. Heaven is supposed to be for humans after all."

Alastor thought of Adam. That crude, violent man who took genuine joy of slaughtering people. Besides that last detail, with no redeeming qualities that he could imagine. A human soul given too much power that reveled on it. Maybe that was the real reason why he still was up in Heaven while others had been casted out for doing a lot less. He had been deemed "worthy" already, the decision was final.

"I have no use for a place like this" said, disgusted at the thought. "Find a way to get me back or I will do it after telling everyone what you did. If I have to burn every house I come across and slash every neck that I can get my hands on, then I will. I will show to you and the rest of heaven how right they were sending me to hell."

Alastor wanted to call his magic to give his words more emphasis. But his shadows didn't respond and no tentacles were coming out of him. Did he even had any power left on this new realm? It made him sick just to think of how weak he had to be now. He didn't let any of that show on his face, smiling as usual.

Emily stared at him, not sure of how to respond.

"Okay, so, just so we are clear, we don't want to come to that, right? We both can agree there" asked after a while.

"I don't know, I feel with a particularly arsonist mood every minute I am away home" He sighed. "I am missing the battle too by being here. That doesn't help."

"You mean the… Oh" Emily floated closer and Alastor remembered that the rest of Heaven wasn't supposed to know about the extermination. He could probably use that as more leverage. "Is that how you ended up here?"

"Are you asking me how I died for the second time?" Alastor arched an eyebrow, amused. "Isn't that a morbid topic for an angel to feel curious about? Do you want me to describe how I felt myself drowning on my own blood, my dear? Or how I touched the injury of my neck open? Oh, wait, I could give you a demostration myself! Since Heaven won't let me have pain, I could just…"

"Do you do that a lot?" asked Emily suddenly. "I already accepted to help you out, Alastor. You don't have to try to intimidate me."

Alastor cleared his throat. Old habits died hard. She was more perceptive he gave her credit for.

"You do realize that try to send a winner to hell falls under the breaking rules category, right?" changed the topic easily.

"But if I don't do it, you will tell I already broke the rules before so what is the difference?" Emily frowned. "And just so you know, I would have help you even if you weren't backmailing me. If you genuinely are miserable in Heaven and want to return to your family, that would be the least thing I could do. I don't want anyone to be sad for all eternity."

"My mood is irrelevant. Like I said, they need me down there" clarified Alastor, holding his hands behind his back. "That is a nice sentiment, but I need to be sure we are going to be on the same boat, dear" Alastor smiled wide, petting her head like a little kid that was finally learning to multiply. "That is how we do things back in hell. I can't count on your word alone. If I don't fall, you fall. Or whatever else they decide to do with you, I don't know or care. Understood?"

"You are really mean" Emily pouted slightly, looking to a side.

Alastor did too when he thought of Lucifer calling him out.

"I know" said, before taking a breath. "How are we going to go about this? I already know what method I prefer to go with. The infinitely funnier one. Let's hear yours."

"Maybe the library?" suggested Emily. "It has a record for the most notorious souls that reached Heaven. If there is a soul that was vanished to hell after coming here, their name should come up. Then we can find out how they did it."

With no other alternative, that is where they went. The whole library seemed to be a cathedral by itself, way too big for anyone without wings or that couldn't fly, which was not an issue for Emily. As she was elevating herself to reach at the highest registers of books, Alastor had no other choice but to wait for her on the ground. That obnoxiously clean reflective ground that was returning to him the image of his new body there.

It was awful. Besides the change on his own skin, his hair had become duller like his finger tips. His whole suit had been changed into a soft yellow with some details in pure white, like the cross on top of his chest, the sleeves and the lapel jacket. He hated it, almost as much as the white his antlers had turn into, but none of that was as offensive and disgusting to his mind as the pair of white wings at his back and the halo above his head. Those two things in particular made him want to slam his head against the reflection until somehow he could destroy it or cause enough brain damage that he would die again.

On the time that Emily took to come back, he had at least the chance to learn to conjure his staff. White and gold, again, with a red heart on the center rather than an eye. The same connection was there, but it felt different, warmer than before. He wasn't sure that he liked that.

The only thing he could very well tolerate was his new brown eyes. He knew those were the closest to his when he was alive and that made it all the more alien after years getting used to the red ones.

Alastor gripped his hands together behind his back, elevating his gaze so he could ignore that. He didn't want to get used to any of this.

He was hoping she could have a faster solution at hand. A potion, a crystal, a portal. Anything that he could just eat, grab or jump into directly into the fiery pits that he called home, only to forget he ever saw any of this.

Purely because of habit, his hand reached out for his pocket and, surprisingly, something was actually there. He pulled his pocket watch and stared at it. Why was that still with him, but not his magic or ring?

"What is that?" asked Emily, floating nearby with a book on her hand.

The book in question was thicker than her entire torso. Despite that, she seemed to have no issue at all handling it.

"A present from Lucifer" said Alastor, frowing. "I don't know why it followed me to here."

Emily flied over him, throwing a quick glance to the object. Just that seemed to tell her everything she needed to know.

"It's made of angelic steel, isn't it? Then technically it already belonged to Heaven, so I guess it just came to its origin. With all the more reason if you are the owner" she explained, taking the book to a nearby table to open it up. One of the heavy half of the book slammed against the table, but no dust came because of course it wouldn't. Emily wasted no time going over the written lines, her eyes quickly jumping from one point to another. "It's a beautiful work, by the way! I haven't seen steel used like that in a long while. I guess people consider it old fashion now."

Alastor smirked at that. It was old fashioned in hell too. That is why Lucifer knew it wouldn't be out of place for him to have it. He opened up the cover and the clock was still ticking like normal. If what Vaggie said was true, then his time was still the same as it was on hell. Meaning that there had been already four hours since the battle started and two since he died again.

"Right now the first man must be dead" assumed, shrugging as he put the watch back where it belonged.

Emily shook her head at the casual comment.

"What-what? Why do you say that?"

"He killed the spouse of the devil. In hell" Alastor explained it like it should be obvious enough, relying his weight on the marble table. "A dumb move if I ever saw one. Lucifer doesn't know that I am here either. I will be very surprised if he left any of your little exorcist alive after that. Ah, what I would give to have seen it with my own eyes. It must have been truly glorious. To not witness my husband going all out on some puny angels and stain the ground gold with their blood in a mockery of Heaven might be the biggest tragedy of it all."

Emily stared at his wistful expression. She did not understand hellish beings at all.

"I don't know if to be creeped out or endeared by that" said after a while. Her finger was still moving over the page, following each line. "Your face and the words you say are confusing me."

Alastor chuckled. He took notice that she wasn't saddened by the lost of Adam or the other exorcists, which did earn her a few more points.

"Feel whatever you want, dear, but do keep searching. The sooner I can come back, the sooner I can ask Lucifer all the details."

Emily sighed.

"I don't know how long this could take" recognized, throwing a glance at him. "You know, while I am doing this, you could…"

"No" Alastor alredy knew what she wanted to say.

"You didn't even let me finish."

"I won't go visit my mother."

"Ah." Emily played with the corner of a page for a second, almost shy. She knew she was threading on personal territory and didn't want to overstep his boundaries. Alastor could appreciate that. "Mmm, want to tell me why is that?"

"What is the point? Just so I have to say goodbye again? To tell her sorry, mom, I actually prefer to live in hell for the rest of eternity than live in heaven with you? By the way, we might never see each other again, so let these be my last words to you." He exhaled through his lips, practically a snort but not quite. Luckily for him the entire library was empty with the sole exception of a library angel that was floating on the furthest shelfs, no interested in telling them to shut up. "What mother wants to hear something like that from their only son? What person even?"

Emily pressed her lips together, thoughful.

"She does know Lucifer though. And Charlie" said, as gently as she could. "I am certain that she would understand that you want to be with them. And don't say again that your mood is irrelevant. You are allowed to miss your family."

Alastor's lip twitched as he straighten up again, leaving the table. Emily followed up his movements, not sure if she had screwed up or how badly.

"Keep looking, dear. I need some… disgustingly fresh air. I might see where I can get gasoline."

"You are not going to burn houses, right?" asked Emily. The snickering she could hear from Alastor did nothing to calm her down. "Hey, no cut anything either, okay? If there is anything here that can help I will find it! Just have some patience, alright?"

Alastor dedicated her a high thumbs up, not promising anything. When he heard a little groan from Emily, he draw a bigger smile. She was too easy to pick on.

He thought that a walk would help distract his mind and it did, replacing the thoughts of his mother with more disgust directed at this entire realm that he thought was capable of. Up head he saw someone dropping their purse while talking through the phone, only for a stranger to pick it up and give it back without even trying to see what was inside. The owner of the purse thank them, they shook hands and each of them were their separate ways.

Neither of them tried to knock the other. There was no demand for a reward. There was no second inspection of the purse to see that something gross hasn't been put inside. There was no bomb in the purse to surprise any of them. A perfectly civilized and calm interaction that nobody around them cared about.

How utterly disgusting. How could they live like this? Every day for eternity?

Alastor shook off the shiver that ran through him and continue walking. If Lucifer could find him no matter where he was with his own angelic powers, then no doubt Emily could do the same when she found his way back home.

He didn't had any concrete objective in mind, so his steps somehow end up in what looked to be a commercial area. Except that everything was for free all the time and yet, nobody was trying to take out the products off the shelfs or exhibitors. It was all registered calmly by a cashier and it was done, wishing everyone to have a good day with a genuine smile. Absolute madness.

He was looking for a butcher shop or appliance for the kitchen where he could see the knives, when a reflection in the vitrines made him stop. He turned around and wasn't wrong. An exorcist was just coming out from a ortophedic shop, testing out still the shiny metal arm coming up above where her elbow used to be.

Alastor felt his heart skip a beat. Did Lucifer do that? Did his love ripped an arm clean on his rampage? Oh, he could only imagine the scream of pain that exorcist would make. He hoped it had been a espectacularly high pitched one. The voice of a soprano perhaps whose painful notes could break glass. The only question was why was she alive. The thought of her somehow managing to escape was unlikely, but not entirely impossible, he imagined.

Before he could realize what he was doing, he was already following after her, instinctively knowing to keep a healthy distance to not alert her at first. Did any of them survive too? Was Adam somewhere? But no, that would be actually impossible. Once Lucifer had a reason to want someone dead, they had to be a goner. Of that he had no single doubt.

When the exorcist turned in a corner, Alastor went there too and immediately was knocked against the wall. Her metal arm was pressing against his chest.

"Why the fuck are you following me?" asked the exorcist. Alastor noticed that her eyes looked so very tired and slightly red, like she had been crying not that long ago. That brought him even more joy to think were tears of grief. "If you like me so much, you could be less of a creep about it. But beyond that, I am not interested so you can forget it."

"Goodness gracious, no!" Alastor laughed at the misunderstanding. If he did ever had such intentions, she would have never seen him coming. He had been so curious that he didn't bothered to be as stealth as he could be. "I am a married man, my dear. Trust me, I have zero interest on you in that way."

The exorcist arched an eyebrow, looking down for a second before looking up again.

"I don't see any ring."

Alastor's eyes crinkled.

"My point still stands."

"Why were you following me then?"

"Well, you see, dear" started Alastor, grabbing her arm and twisting it to press it against the exorcist's back, putting her now against the same wall. Even without his powers, he still remembered a thing or two of how to use his body. "I just have a couple of questions and I will let you go. Simple as that. First one, you just came back from the extermination, didn't you?"

The exorcist froze in place, stopping her attempts to get ride of him and looked at him over her shoulder. It took her a couple of seconds, but soon her eyes widened with recognition.

"The red demon on the roof."

Alastor gave her a toothy smile. He had no idea of who she was without her mask. To him she was just any other of the exorcist that used the same dark uniform. It still made him happy that apparently she had been paying attention during the fight with Adam.

"The radio demon to be more exact."

"W-why… what are you…"

"To tell you the truth, I am just as confused as you are, dear. I am trying to rectify this mistake right now. If we are both lucky, I won't be on the same realm as you for long. But that doesn't answer my question, doesn't it?" Alastor let her go when he realized she wasn't going to fight anymore. She turned around, her hand holding onto the start of her mechanical arm as if it was suddenly hurting. Alastor sighed, lifting a finger to press against the metal plaque. "Did my husband do that?"

The exorcist looked creeped out by the tone of his voice. Alastor did not bother to hide the yearning on his voice. Here he didn't had to keep the secret from anyone.

"N-no…" Her eyes darted around, no doubt evaluating the prospect of risking causing a scene. If she did, Alastor would loudly talk about the extermination for anyone to hear. They both knew it. "No, I did it."

"Well, that was stupid and dissapointing. What happened after I was out of commission?"

"Adam…" The exorcist closed her eyes, as if saying that name was already costing her too much. Alastor smiled bigger. Oh, a true loss. How fun. "Adam went for the princess and Lucifer appeared."

"Then what?"

She sighed, her brow wrinkling at the effort of controlling herself. Alastor waited. He could have patience for this.

"I don't really know how, but he took us all out. It all happened so fast. First Adam, then everyone else."

"You are the only survivor?" asked Alastor, imagining alredy the terrifying vision that it must have been to witness.

The sounds of the scream and slaughter as they all succumbed to the king without quartel, learning way too late that they couldn't do anything against his king. More than ever since waking up in Heaven, Alastor so wished to hold Lucifer.

"That is so awful" said Alastor with obvious mirth. "He left you to be his messanger. What message did you had to deliver that it was worth your life, dear?"

The exorcist nodded.

"He said…" She swallowed, looking to a side. "He said I should get to live, knowing I couldn't do anything to save him. He also said that… all of that was the price for his sinner."

Alastor put his forehead against the wall above the head of the exorcist, closing his eyes as he breathed in. His whole body shivered as he bite down on his own fingers. The exorcist's eyes darted around as she took a silent step to the left, away from him. She didn't want to ask or know what was that about.

Alastor wouldn't have tell her even if she did, even if they were close friends instead of strangers meeting in the weirdest cicumstances. He wouldn't be able to describe the pure violent longing that made its home on the pit of his stomach, making him wish he could burn all of Heaven already. Burn them for ever making Lucifer to hurt himself and burn them again for having the audacity of keeping them apart. He wanted to do it now, until there was nothing more than ashes and the gold finally lost its shine, the sky turned grey and their gates was pulverized. The image was so clear on his head that it was already a beautiful painting. It would be his offering, his gift to Lucifer, given in a golden platter before he let the familiar flames consume him.

After a definitely uncomfortably long amount of time, Alastor woke up from his trance. He cleared his throat, regaining his composure as if nothing had happened.

"I am okay" said Alastor, fixing his suit. "Thank you for being so cooperative, dear. I have no use for you anymore so you can continue your merry way. I will keep my mouth shut too" added when she glared at him.

She had no reason to trust him, but for now the need of putting distance between the two of them was bigger than her reason. Right before she ran, her eyes fixated above Alastor and straighten up with a salute.

"Maam!"

Alastor had heard the delicate flapping of the wings already. When he turned around, though, it wasn't Emily that was standing behind him. That other, what was her name? The older one smiled pleasantly.

"You can go, Lute. I was intending to talk to our new resident. You earned yourself a rest."

Lute nodded emphatically, throwing a glance to Alastor before she put her legs to good use. Alastor likewise, hiting the floor with his staff.

"I don't believe we have been properly introduced, my dear! I am…"

"Alastor Morningstar" said Sera, tilting her head lightly. "Of course, Saint Peter told me already."

Was Saint Peter the gossiper of this place? Had he made a mistake already? No, they were going to find out his name sooner or later.

"Well, that is no fun!" declared Alistor with a lightheated chuckle. "I wanted to keep some sense of mystery for a while longer, but alas! Let me return the favor then. You are Sera, isn't it? I think Emily might have mentioned it when we first met."

The seraphim nodded. She was beautiful, he had to give her that, but she lacked the open arms aura of his husband. This angel kept her arms in front, where she could maintain at a distance what she didn't need.

"I am sorry I wasn't able to welcome you before. I had to have a talk with the elders about your… situation. You probably understand already how peculiar it is."

"No doubt about it!" laughed Alastor, wondering where the hell was Emily. "Emily has been a delight showing me around already! I don't think I will need any further assistance navigating this place. I appreciate the concern anyway."

"Oh, no, I wasn't trying to offer you another tour" Sera put a graceful hand on his shoulder. "Would you mind coming with me so we can have a talk?"

This seraphim was older than Emily. Bigger and probably a lot stronger. Worse than that, he had nothing to hold against her. He had no choice but to follow, for now.

"Lead the way, dear."

[tobiasdrake]

The Disappearance of Nagato Yuki-chan, Episode 5 - Her Melancholy

You know what, that's fair. I'm still mad but that's fair.

Again, I love Haruhi, she is my character, but I want the first thing I see this episode to be Haruhi flung violently out the window. Here we go.

Okay, Yuki probably wouldn't violently fling Haruhi out the window. Running away crying in an anxiety panic is more believable.

But you, Ryoko. You can do this. I believe in you. You are the epitome of Lawful Menace and you can hurl that trespasser through that window. Here we go!

She is holding it. She is holding Yuki's chocolates.

I mean. Reasonably speaking, Haruhi is innocent of any wrongdoing here. She had no idea. She met a boy, wanted to hang out, and hit it off. She barely even knows these people. Haruhi has done nothing wrong.

If she and Yuki were pals and she knew about Yuki's crush, then yes. If Ryoko had done this, then it would be a huge betrayal and personal violation of Yuki's friendship. But Haruhi's under no obligation to hang back and refrain from flirting with guys she meets in case someone else had eyes on them first.

As... bizarre as it is to say given her behavior in the other show, Haruhi is not the Bad Guy (TM) here. Reasonably, Yuki is simply running into the brick wall of "You never made a move". A curse that afflicts many a neurodivergent and anxietous person with their first or even later crushes. She had her chance at the Christmas Party and even tried to shoot her shot, but she took it back and let it pass her by. Now a bolder and more confident person is scooping him up instead.

That is a reasonable assessment of what's happened.

However, I have watched Yuki agonize over her feelings for four episodes so I am not feeling reasonable. I want Haruhi hit by a truck.

For real, though, I do feel for Haruhi here. She has no idea why Ryoko's furious.

This is the kind of character drama where nobody's really in the wrong, and that's always the most heart-wrenching of all. Haruhi was right to take her chance but Ryoko is right to be livid over it.

Oh shit, she wasn't even flirting.

(Opportunity to research Japanese Valentine's Day unlocked. Today I Learned Something!)

Episode 4 even set this up with Mikuru and Tsuruya discussing obligation chocolate. Valentine's Day in Japan is celebrated by the practice of women giving chocolate to men, but there are two different kinds: Inexpensive obligation chocolate and handmade true feelings chocolate, the latter of which can be used as a romantic confession.

Obligation chocolates are given to whatever guys happen to be in your social space. Colleagues, friends, acquaintances, etc. Just to avoid hurting anybody's feelings. Which has come under fire for pressuring women into pacifying men, with many opting in recent years to give friendship chocolate instead to just the people they're close to.

But, in any case, obligation chocolate is what Haruhi was doing here. She was just participating in a holiday custom, whereas Yuki and Ryoko spent the better part of yesterday whipping up heartfelt true feelings chocolate for Kyon.

Awww

Okay she no longer needs to be thrown out the window. They totally faked me out back there.

(Partly because I didn't understand chocolate politics. I did think it was odd that Haruhi was casually handing Kyon what is clearly just a Hershey's bar from the corner store but I figured that was just Haruhi being the type to buy her chocolate rather than make it at home. I did not realize there were actually different cultural meanings to the different gestures.)

Did she know that? She popped by yesterday and Kyon told her, "Yeah, everyone went home so club's cancelled." And then the two of them went off and hung out instead.

How would Haruhi know that Yuki was preparing true feelings chocolate for Kyon?

Lawful Menace is as much of an emotional roller-coaster of First Time Feeling Things as Yuki is. She just hides it better.

Ryoko Asakura is this show's MVP. No question. I like how she cherry-taps her punch because she even at her wit's end, she can't bring herself to attack another person over something she knows, in the rational part of her brain, isn't their fault.

So she takes a moment to just. Break down. And cry. And work through her feelings. This is good. Meanwhile poor Haruhi isn't really consoling her so much as she winds up having to be breakdown adjacent.

Sometimes there's nothing you can say or do. Sometimes you just have to be breakdown adjacent.

Yuki is entirely to blame here. She saw chocolate and had a panic attack. Even though, unlike me, she's lived in this culture for her entire life and would know what obligation chocolate is.

Ryoko needs to throttle Yuki. With love. But also throttling.

There we go. Throttling with love.

She doesn't even realize she dropped the box.

So she didn't have a panic attack and flee. She's just. A disaster.

SHE WAS GIVING HARUHI PRIVACY TO WOO THE BOY SHE LIKES

Yuki. Yuki. Why are you the most precious thing ever to walk on Haruhi's green earth?

Yuki sitting there like, "I'll be okay with it if you like Kyon too."

And Ryoko's face like, "I won't. I'll cut a bitch."

[everythingsinred]

Let's Talk About NatsuMikan: Mikan (pt. 28)

Today we will wrap up the Time Travel Arc and Mikan will make her decision regarding Yuka, though certain epiphanies about certain red-eyed, special-starred, fire Alice boys will complicate her feelings.

(And yes, this title image does kinda creep me out a lil, but I wanted to stay on theme with the Time Travel Arc. Whatever. Natsume and Mikan are together; that's all I really care about.)

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One Hundred and Fifteen

Noda says they’ve seen enough for Mikan to come to a decision about Yuka. They can end here. Everything that happens after, he says, is painful and she probably won’t want to watch. But the choice is hers. They can go back now, or they can stay a little longer. “You can probably tell what will happen next.”

And she can. Mikan has never seen her parents before. The “shameful birth secrets” Luna taunted her with before are now revealed. She has gotten to know both her father and her mother so far in ways she never dreamed of, having spent her whole life mourning their absence and taking for granted that she'd never know them. But Mikan hasn’t had enough. She’s never felt so close to them, and she’s not ready to go back until she’s seen it all.

She decides they’ll stay, that they’ll watch until the end. Mikan wants to see everything, the whole story. Even the bad. Maybe especially the bad.

Wouldn't it be nice if nobody ever died?

So they keep watching, until they see Izumi walking to his death, with all of them knowing what awaits him. 

And Mikan is desperate.

She asks Noda if there’s something she can do in this moment to stop what happens next, to save her father, to let him know what dangers he’s walking into. Noda tries to explain that the past can’t be changed. People who are dead should stay dead. Their fate has been decided (and I do think, even in this context where a timeline is something you can jump around in, that fate is decided by your own actions, that it’s set in stone based on decisions you make), and Izumi is no exception. 

Mikan, in her sad desperation, gets very close to the window. She’s convinced that saving her father could pave the way for a new future, a better future, and maybe she could’ve known him, and maybe the school wouldn’t have been so terrible and maybe the only difference would be that he’d be alive. Either way, it sounds too good to pass up. 

Tono protests that Mikan has seen enough. Her state now doesn’t bode well--she’ll only get more upset if she sees what happens next. It’s good for her to make her own choices, but she doesn’t benefit from witnessing her own father’s death. Noda agrees to end the time trip, but Mikan flinches away from him, falling out of the time window.

This is the only time Mikan ever meets her dad. Just this one moment that's half a minute long.

She meets her father. Izumi comes over to check on the mysterious elementary schooler who has appeared out of nowhere. He tries asking her a couple questions, but Mikan, suddenly face to face with the person she has most wanted to know and was most deprived of, can’t speak. Her only thought, repeating endlessly, is “Daddy,” a heart-wrenching grief for what she never had and never will have. 

(Crim has sadly informed me that the Japanese would be a more basic “Dad,” and that the scans perhaps tried to make the situation sadder by using “Daddy,” but I really like where the scanlators’ heads were at for this choice. Mikan, who never knew her father, suddenly watching him from afar, feels like she’s getting to know him. Despite this, there’s still a hole, a lack, where he should be but never got the chance to be. To me, “Daddy” seems like compensation, like a term of endearment to superficially create closeness and intimacy where there could never be any. Like she wants to simulate an alternate universe where they could be that close, which would work especially well in this scene where she desperately wants to change the past to create a better future. But. That’s not what it is. So.)

She clings to him, desperate to warn him, to change time and to change her own future, but she can’t.

Maybe it’s because his fate has long been sealed, that time has moved on too much for her to be able to easily alter it. Maybe it’s because she’s awestruck to see her father in the flesh for the first time after a lifetime of wondering about him. Maybe it’s both. Either way, Mikan despairs that she can’t save him, even though that’s all she wants. 

Tsubasa snatches her back and takes her away again, but Mikan is finally able to say one word, the only word on her mind, or at least the most important one.

“Daddy!” (Or, I guess, “Dad!”)

Wouldn't it be nice if he could be her dad? If she could grow up all over again with two loving parents who want her, who love her? Hmm.

She’s taken away before she can hear his answer of “Mikan,” an intuitive response of knowing deep down, despite all logic, that he just met his own daughter. 

Mikan, back through the window with her friends, is devastated that she couldn’t save her dad. She already knew this would happen but watching it unfold is rather different than being idly aware of it. But Mikan’s fall has disrupted the window and the event that is about to take place is so heavy and influential in regards to the events to come that leaving is no longer an option. They have to watch.

Mikan has to watch.

Chapter One Hundred and Sixteen

Izumi confronts the ESP, and tries to reason with Rei, but Rei won’t listen, shocked by this perceived betrayal. He starts to use his alice and manages to overpower Izumi’s nullification. This is different from the times he’s used his alice before. Before, Rei might have let his power go on accident, a little at a time, enough for Izumi to get a handle on it and nullify it. But Rei is upset, betrayed, and angry, and his alice is powerful as a result, too powerful for Izumi to combat. Izumi falls and despite Rei’s pleas with him to make the marks disappear, he doesn’t move.

Mikan gets up, probably to jump through the window.

I talked about this impulse in the Reo Arc, when Mikan went back to save Natsume because she couldn’t consider any other option. Saving Natsume was the only thing she could do, so that’s what she did. I think this is a similar impulse. Someone she loves is in danger, so how could she leave him alone? She wants to save him, so she jumps up and is ready to stand in, probably not considering any consequences because they don’t matter.

Natsume stops her, and she looks at him pleadingly. Like always, Mikan can’t ask him for anything, so she doesn’t now either. She doesn’t even know what she would ask if she could. She just wants things to be different, to be better, and she knows they can’t be. 

Tono begs for Noda to close the window, to end the trip. Mikan can’t and shouldn’t watch any further. But they can’t. It’s too turbulent.

This panel hits the hardest next to all the chaos which is why I didn't even try to crop it out.

But Natsume doesn’t let her watch anymore. He hugs her, pressing her face against his chest, and tells her not to look. Such a soft and gentle action, from someone who has always kept his softness a secret. He’s helping her openly now, this person who always manages to make her feel better, who comforts her when nobody else can. She sobs into his shirt and lets him keep her there.

I think that’s a pretty big deal, for Mikan’s side of it. She’s upset but she knows he’s thinking of her, that she can’t change this event no matter how much she wants to. And he holds her head to his body to keep her from looking because he’s concerned, because he swore earlier tonight that he would protect her no matter what and he meant it. He’s still protecting her and will always protect her. So she leans on him and hugs him and cries on him the way she did when she was worried about Tsubasa, because he’s that kind of person, and she can rely on him.

So Mikan doesn’t watch it happen, even if she knows it’s happening, holding onto Natsume instead. 

And just like I said in the Natsume edition, they stay here, holding onto each other, for a few chapters. Even after the moment ends and Izumi dies and time moves on, Mikan still cries into Natsume’s shirt and he doesn’t remove her or shift or anything. They stay there, away from the window, not watching, together, because she doesn’t have the emotional capacity to watch and he values her comfort and well-being over the ability to see what happens next.

They stay like this for an indeterminate amount of time because they're like this in 117, but they're standing again by 119 and we don't see much of them in between. So. Quite a while.

Chapter One Hundred and Twenty

Yuka has given birth to Mikan and Mikan has made her decision. She’s watched her mother suffer and understands the tribulations she’s had to face. The prejudice she’s clung to for months after Iinchou’s alice was stolen is firmly in the past. She knows better. I think this would be an instance of Mikan rejecting any notions about Yuka having flaws than “tolerating” them because she understands that her mother’s actions were always motivated by good intentions.

She wants to know this person, to be with her. She longs for her mother, and always has. Though, earlier tonight, she was distraught to hear that the mother she’d always wanted to know is a person she considered bad, she now knows that her mother is a good person. Just like she yearns for closeness with her father that she can’t ever have, she wants to know her mother, to be close to her.

Not everything is all about him, but... to me it is.

But Mikan can’t even voice this decision because Natsume has a coughing fit, which he immediately brushes off, despite everyone’s concern. 

The past carries on and Mikan watches as Kaoru stops Yuka from stealing her daughter’s alice. “Give her a chance to choose her own path,” Kaoru says, and this further extends into the theme of Mikan’s agency and how it shouldn’t be stripped away from her or disregarded. 

They then see Kaoru struggle with her health, breaking down in familiar coughing fits at inopportune times, dealing with chronic pain and shouldering it all by herself, unwilling to burden her loved ones. But Yuka realizes what that all means, that Kaoru has the fourth shape, the life-shortening alice, and that she’s been suffering on her own all along. Yuka leaves, unwilling to further burden Kaoru’s health.

And Natsume has the same alice stone now that Yuka gave Kaoru, given to him by his mother. 

“You’ve been with me all along. I should’ve noticed earlier, but…”

And Mikan finally, after all this time of suspicion and denial, asks Natsume if he is the same as his mother. She confesses in her thoughts that she already knew, but didn’t want to accept it. She cries, because that threat of loss has reared its ugly head again.

Her most consistent wish: not to lose him!

She might not lose him right away, but Natsume has a limited time left. And she does not want to lose him. Consistently, Mikan’s most prominent feeling regarding Natsume was her unwillingness to lose him, not to Z, not to Persona, not to Luna, not to his alice, not to anything. She would do anything to have him by her side, but there’s not much she can do to save him if the thing that’s taking him away is his own body.

“Be careful not to lose something important to you,” and Natsume is important, and he won’t be around for much longer.

But he hugs her, pressing her close, and swears to her that he won’t leave her, that he won’t die. 

Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-One

Mikan is clinging onto Natsume, unwilling to let go.

AGAIN, the telepathy in this arc confuses me. Ruka communicates his blessing to Natsume entirely through vibes, and yet both Natsume and Mikan seem to react as though they can hear, and little comments throughout this arc suggest that this sort of thing is possible in the time window. Which means that Mikan might hear all of what Ruka has to say, about how Natsume loves and needs her (which she already knows because he said so himself), and also about how he fell for her too, and how he doesn’t want to be the reason they aren’t together. 

I LOVE this panel. It's great.

Mikan cries throughout this, and I think she already knew about Ruka’s feelings but is still touched anyway, and also sad that she can’t reciprocate. 

Ruka then says something along the lines of “Natsume is the only one chosen for Sakura too,” and Crim helped me with that because I was initially thrown off by the use of the word “chosen” there. Seeing as Japanese is a less direct language than English, the vibe should be more on the fate side, or, as lovely Crim put it, the “only one made to be chosen by Sakura.” Thus we can see that Ruka accepts that Natsume loves Mikan and that Mikan probably loves Natsume too, and we can see that they both know that Ruka accepts this. 

It’s a sad, but touching moment, because Ruka is both happy for them and heartbroken for himself, and they are heartbroken for him too. 

There's telepathy here in some capacity right? They've established that. And so Mikan hears him too. I can't ever speak like I know for sure really. I don't know anything, even if I seem like an expert. I'm constantly discovering new things.

(In any case, let me go on a rant here. I dislike love triangle fics with Ruka/Mikan/Natsume for a couple reasons. Primarily, my interest in Ruka and Mikan is just as friends, so I’m not interested in seeing them lovey-dovey, even if Mikan chooses Natsume in the end, because it just makes me sad, especially for Ruka. Furthermore, and more related to the subject at hand, I hate the way these fics make Natsume and Ruka behave, where they are often competing for Mikan’s affections and cruel to each other as a result. The idea that Ruka would ever be angry at Natsume for being with Mikan is so contrary to everything Ruka is as a character that it just pisses me off. Ruka loves Natsume! He wants Natsume to be happy! Neither Natsume nor Ruka would be angry if Mikan chose the other, so why do fics twist their characters for the sake of cheap and unpleasant drama? It’s not even fun to read and it’s so out of character, it honestly breaks my heart. Stop it with the fics where Ruka gets angry if Mikan chooses Natsume over him--he’s way better than the jealous and unreasonable person you’re making him out to be.)

Anyway, we move on. Yuka is by herself in the winter, and Mikan is sick. Yuka is horrified that she might lose another person, something she doesn’t think she can take. Luckily, she is discovered by Jii-chan, who Mikan is ecstatic to finally see.

Mikan hasn’t seen her grandfather ever since she came to the academy. He’s been her only family her whole life, so she’s very happy to see him. She calls out to Hotaru to look too, repeating his name over and over. This is the untold story of how he came to know her, and she’s missed him so much that seeing him again is a relief, probably comparable though different to the relief of seeing her father or mother. It’s through a window, and she can’t reach him, but seeing him is still a meaningful experience.

JII-CHAN! The person she's wanted to see most this whole manga.

Yuka gives Mikan up to Jii-chan, running away because she doesn’t want to place Mikan in further danger. 

Adopted children often face the traumatic experience of feeling unloved or unwanted, of having been abandoned. Jii-chan always insisted that her parents were in the sky, were ghosts, that they didn’t leave her by choice, but because they were taken by death. This avoided that trauma for a while, where Mikan felt simultaneously comforted and saddened by the stars or by tests of courage. She wanted to feel like her parents loved her, like they wanted her, and it was easier to believe if they only left her because they died.

But then Mikan found out that her mom is alive.

So if death didn’t separate them, what did? Was she abandoned? Left behind? Unwanted for whatever reason?

I’m sure, though Mikan doesn’t like to share her thoughts often, that those possibilities occurred to her, that she suspected Yuka, who hurt her friends, might not have wanted her. 

But Yuka did want her. She loved her with all her heart and that’s exactly why she gave her up, because she wanted Mikan to have a happy, cheerful life, and she couldn’t if she was constantly on the run with Yuka. Yuka gave her up, gave up the chance to watch her darling daughter grow up, because she chose Mikan’s happiness over her own. Mikan wasn’t abandoned. She wasn’t unwanted. She wasn’t unloved.

Mikan cries, happy to know she was loved all along, sad to watch her mother suffer. She apologizes and then finally says it, that she will leave with her mother.

She’s seen enough to make the choice. And she is making a choice, that she wants to make up for the years they missed, that she wants to be with Yuka, even if they are on the run, even if they don’t have the peaceful life Yuka always wanted. Mikan was not unwanted by her mother and Yuka is not unwanted by her daughter. 

HEARTBREAKING.

She apologizes to her friends, and I kind of wonder why. Does she feel like they might consider this whole trip a waste if she just came to accept what the adults had suggested anyway? Does she think they’ll be hurt that she chose to leave them? Does she worry that they will be in danger with her absence? I’m not entirely sure, but this was never going to be an easy decision to make, and it’s not made any easier by the guilt.

(Though Mikan is a textbook people pleaser, and she hasn't really made many decisions in this vein before, so it's also likely she'd apologize and feel bad no matter what she chose.)

Hotaru clarifies things, telling Mikan that this life with Yuka will be hectic, chaotic, challenging, and probably lonely. She won’t be able to see her other loved ones anymore, not even her grandpa. But Hotaru understands that she will choose to be with Yuka anyway, even if it’s a painful choice. 

Mikan swears she will find them all again, eventually, but that all she wants to do now is be with her mom. 

Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-Two

Hotaru consoles her, telling her it’s okay and that they all knew it would end up like this. Furthermore, she knows that, even if they separate, they will find each other again someday, no matter how much time passes. This is comforting, to know that Hotaru will be waiting to see her again, that they both believe their bond is unbreakable. Everyone else feels the same, Hotaru posits, that they will be able to do their best just knowing that Mikan is doing her best. 

Devastating, but inevitable.

She turns to the others. Ruka looks distraught, but it isn’t easy news, and Mikan understands that. It’s not easy for her either. She apologizes, and move to apologize to Natsume too, only to be floored by his facial expression.

Natsume doesn’t say anything. He looks sad, but they all do. It’s the fact that it’s Natsume that has Mikan frozen. She remembers what he told her, about not wanting to let her go, about wanting to run away with her. 

Loss.

Mikan cries without being able to say anything to Natsume. She can’t apologize enough, and it’s always been hard for her to say this sort of thing to him anyway. He always makes her feel vulnerable and tonight is no exception. He loves her. He has the fourth shape. She can’t promise they’ll find each other again. Tonight might be the last time they see each other.

You can't have your cake and eat it too, sadly.

Loss. She might have chosen to lose Natsume tonight, and this crushes her.

Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-Three

They witness Kaoru’s death, an organized vehicular accident arranged by the ESP. 

Yuka said good-bye to spare Kaoru the burden of staying on the run with her, and she never got to see her again.

Mikan is saying good-bye to Natsume to serve the greater good and to be with her long-suffering mother, and she might not ever get to see him again.

And Natsume has to watch his mother die without anybody telling him not to look, without anybody holding him, and maybe that’s because it happened too fast and then the subject changed too fast, but Mikan is visibly concerned for him. It’s not the best night for either of them.

The window has stabilized and they can return now. They take a moment for the group to gift Mikan with impromptu alice stones, an attempt at recreating Hoshino’s parting, a way of giving her something to remember them all by. 

They all give one to her, except for Natsume. Neither of them said anything since she saw his wrecked face, and he’s not saying anything now either. She makes eye contact with him and he wordlessly gestures to her necklace, to the red stone hanging there.

Mikan remembers finding that stone on her windowsill, how she had wanted it to be Natsume’s but thinking there was no way it could be. But he had loved her, even back then. And he was only returning the favor. She had given him her alice stone first. If two people exchange alice stones, it means a promise of being together forever, and that’s what Natsume is promising here. That she’ll have this memory of him forever, and that he will be hers forever, no matter where she is.

Natsume says "I love you" in a lot of ways tonight, but she has yet to say it back.

It’s also a reminder of his feelings, another opening for her to say something. But she doesn’t say anything. She accepts the token of his love and leaves it at that. I think, though, even in this moment, that she knows she loves him too, and that her feelings are intensely romantic. She’s known for a while.

Before, she couldn’t say anything because she was scared of being rejected, because she was in denial, because Natsume could never, because she was overwhelmed. But now, I think she’s holding her tongue because she doesn’t think it will do any good.

She doesn’t want to tell Natsume and break his heart even more.

She doesn’t want to tell herself and break her own heart even more. Leaving him right now as things are is hard enough. Why would she further complicate things? 

She has his alice stone. He has hers, that pathetic pebble she forced on him. That’s enough.

Conclusion

The Time Travel Arc is officially over. We will next return to the present and see how things will unravel over the course of the next few chapters as Mikan and friends do what they can to reunite with Yuka.

I like the heartbreak and misery of these chapters, of everyone saying good-bye to Mikan and Mikan despairing over leaving her friends and especially over leaving Natsume, who can't promise to live long enough to see her again. It's all soul-crushing and so fun to discuss! I hope it's fun to read!

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[hyunjinspark]

i read the new chapter n jade..... my heart burned so badly, everything seems to be crumbling down all over n to think this has been yns long wished for dream that turned out a nightmare.. i have a few annotates to make!! ill out them below, its my first time so i rlly hope its not messy >.<

“Of course not” Hyunjin rolled his eyes, continuing to add details to his little map, right now he was adding the 7/11 between your house and Aera’s.

hyun thinking of yn neighborhood so fondly n cherishing the scenery sm let alone remember it to add to his painting was so heart wrenching in a good way.. it made me smile

“Unfortunately, I don’t think that’s going to be possible Jinnie. And…you’re probably gonna have to get the flowers tomorrow” Chan suddenly said, filling up the blender with ingredients.

i knew exactly where this was going n for some reason it made me rlly sulky.... hyuns hectic life ;—;

“No, but my girlfr-“ Hyunjin stopped in his sentence, clearing his throat, and he could feel Chan’s gaze burn curiously into him, “Um…one of my friends is. He’s her favourite artist in the world”

i was blushing so hard here, i got so flustered, i hope yn finds out abt this, the subconsciously calling her his girlfriend, its so!!!!!!! god!!!!!!

He saw your eyes widen, and a deep emotion overwhelmed you. He didn’t see you react more, and he wondered what this meant to you, what he meant to you right now, even so far away. You didn't say anything back. You must be holding it all in, just like him. Maybe you didn’t know how to put your thoughts into words. He couldn't blame you. Even after reading all the poems in the world, Hyunjin didn’t have the words either. Not enough anyway.

i loved seeing more of hyuns heart during such conversations!!!!! we havent gotten much of it so i cherish it all dearly n feeling hyuns sincerity towards yn from such insights, he better tell her sooner or later, poor yns heart deserves to know ;—; especially after the mess going on for a while now

I want you here with me at this party. Fuck, it’s so dull without you. If you were here, we could just sneak off and…I would kiss you. Positively. My manager is here, the scary one, but he doesn’t have to know. Earlier, I was reading a book and there was an English word in it that reminded me of you. Saudade. I looked it up because I was so curious and it said it’s a state of melancholy for a beloved someone or something. I think that explains this ridiculous feeling I have when I think of you. I have it even when I’m not thinking of you. Like last week, when we were recording this one song. It’s like you’re here with me in everything. I guess what I’m saying is, I just want to kiss you really really badly and fuck I’m really drunk so I’m sorry for how this may sound but I just really need to feel you—

this was one of the hottest things ive read through slwy..... the words rnt coming out, but, the desperation n need in his words here melt me.. i am yet again nothing but a woman it seems, this was genuinely so hot. i cant say it enough. i kind of wish he wasnt cut off at the end.....

Suddenly the expensive bracelets he was wearing felt like shackles around Hyunjin’s wrists. 

When he got home that night, he realised the hydrangeas in his room had withered away completely.

the poetry/metaphors in these lines were beautiful jade :(

At your question, Hyunjin’s grip on the wheel tightened. His shoulders tensed up.

You'd struck a nerve.

Good.

yn getting some revenge this way was so satisfying to read. yes u struck a nerve n yes its good that u did!!!

hey. i was just talking with minho and man, i miss you

I know you’ve likely forgotten all about me but call me later please…I think ill die here without you

yongbok is so sweet, i do miss him n i didnt realize how much i did until reading his texts here

“She’s a really good artist” Hyunjin suddenly interrupted you.

proud boyfriend behavior. i dont know if u understand but this was so proud boyfriend!

He’d gotten so much better in your absence. You’d only gotten worse in his.

this just hurt. bc yes. :( hyun come back :(

“No, I’m not done talking. After losing you, moving to the city was the hardest thing I ever did. Leaving Daejon behind, all my friends…the only life I knew, and this place where I don’t really fit perfectly, but I’m trying so hard to. It is so hard. The only thing I love…I can’t even love that anymore because I can’t fucking stop thinking about you when I’m painting! It’s not fair. You had a choice, Hyunjin. I didn’t” Your voice broke.

hearing it all pour out of her is so heartbreaking bc it feels like theres so much more she wants to say but cant bc of how overwhelming it is, my chest felt heavy hearing her like this :(

“I…couldn’t leave you at the party. It’s not safe…of course I had to drive you home. I would go insane if something happened to you”

something happened to her when u disappeared, dummy..... u should go insane over that instead bc yn did. so did i. hyun come back!!!!! ;—;

Raindrops slowly trickled down, tracing the ruined paper in your palm. The only memory left of you and Hyunjin was now gone.

heart ripped off my chest. im v sentimental even w materials so this.... it rlly hurt.

“Fine” You heard it being passed around and then his voice came in, “Love. I’m here”

i had these copy pasted in my notes but i just got to send u this ask so im unsure if this was bbok or lino... im thinking bbok, hes so comforting amongst the chaos he seems to be the constant yn needs

Draped in a beige trench coat, cheeks red from the cold, Hyunjin stood at the bottom of your staircase.

nothing n i repeat NOTHING couldve prepared me for this. i did not expect it at all, everything was so fast i was ready to take in a deep calming breath n read along w yns quick decision to go back but now theres....... hyun. hyun is here n i cant wait to know the reason, what hell say or do, how yn feels n how it plays out.. im so nervous n once again looking forward to the next chapter >.<

u once again worded everything so beautifully n im sorry its getting repetitive by now but i love ur writing n the depth to it. i hold it dear to me, this story. thanku so much for writing it w so much love, jade<3

-🤍

idk how i missed answering this !! this is so sweet, i cherished reading every line and i absolutely LOVE when you annotate, it makes me feel appreciated and fuzzy and warm inside. thank you for pointing out your favorite parts 🥺

im glad you thought hyun’s text was hot, the desperation is really there haha. and thank you for appreciating all the little flower metaphors i sprinkled in there ! i loved reading this. thank you for loving this story so much, you make me happy.

[the-red-mafia]

The Thief

After returning to the mansion, the mafia decides to bring Rhyme on their mission with them. With Mad not talking to them Rhyme is paired up with Maroon. The duo discover something sinister within the walls of the UPS facility, and something complicated within Rhyme and Mad's relationship. Also available on Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/user/TheRedMafia Next Update: [Updated] Word Count: 4464

An hour after “The Assassination” 

“We are not bringing Diamonds on a mission with us,” Velvet spat, crossing her arms. Mad’s screen was blank as they turned towards Solana.

“I agree with Velvet on this one. There’s too much that can go wrong.” 

“I don’t see what your guys' problem is,” Solana replied, “We could use an extra fighter tonight. Velvet, you said yourself there’s supposed to be twice as many guards as last time.” 

“We’re better as a cohesive team, Solana. Diamonds would throw a wrench into the plans.”

“What’s the alternative, leave him here alone?” 

“Her and Wyatt, probably.”

“No, he can go to his own house. Tell him to take the child with him for all I care. There’s no need for her to come with us.” 

“If y’all could stop talking about me like I’m not here, that’d be great,” Rhyme called out. The trio turned to look at the teen, who was sitting on a Madbay bed with an IV coming out of her arm. Bandages wrapped around his abdomen and the heart monitor beeped. The child was on another bed, fast asleep. He didn’t seem injured, but Mad had bandaged him up anyway. 

“Sorry,” the robot mumbled. 

“Also, I don’t think Diamonds is in any shape to go on a mission,” Velvet added. 

“I’m fine, Bolton. And like I said earlier, I want to help,” the thief replied. 

“And like I said earlier, I don’t care.” Solana sighed.

“Why don’t we take a vote out of the whole team? I think Maroon and Thorn are finally awake.” Velvet looked at the elf and sighed.

“Fine, whatever. My vote is no.”

“Mine as well,” Mad stated. Rhyme frowned and looked up at Mad, who refused to meet his eyes. Velvet crossed her arms.

The hell is wrong with them? 

“Well, my vote is for yes. I’ll go talk to the others, see what they think.” Solana turned on his heel and walked out of the Madbay, Mad following behind. Velvet watched them leave before looking back to Rhyme.

“The fuck you do to them?” she demanded.

“Huh?” 

“Mad would never want you to go home. Clearly you did something while you were out to piss them off.” Rhyme let out a strained laugh. 

“Oh, and you know Mad so much better than I do.”

“I live with them, fūr. And I know they love your company. So something happened and I want to know what.” 

“Velvet, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” The assassin crossed her arms and sat down on the kid’s bed. He moved slightly, but Velvet ignored it. 

“There must’ve been some kind of complication. Maybe you didn’t tell it about your injury. Or Wyatt got hurt and you brushed it off. Hell, maybe you even lied about the mission in the first place.” Rhyme looked towards the floor. Velvet smirked.

Bingo.

“You called them at like, 5 am this morning saying you wanted to rescue Eliza’s new kid. But that wasn’t it, was it?” 

“It’s none of your fucking business, Bolton,” Rhyme shouted. The kid moved again, catching his attention. 

“Careful, Reuter, you’ll wake your brother.” The kid stopped moving around and Rhyme’s eyes once again locked on Velvet’s, glaring.

“I don’t appreciate the interrogation, Bolton.”

“And I don’t appreciate you fucking up one of my team members before a crucial mission.” Rhyme let out a strained laugh and crossed his arms.

“How crucial could breaking into the UPS be? I do it all the time. It’s never anything of use.” Velvet frowned. 

“You’ve broken into the UPS before?” 

“That’s what I just said.” She looked away from the thief and out the window. Clouds were forming around the mansion, a rare sight on the planet. 

Maybe Solana had a point, they thought, Rhyme might be a good asset to have tonight. It’ll give me more time to figure out what the hell happened, and placing any blame on him would help with the media…I just don’t want-

“Velvet!” Solana’s voice shouted, startling the assassin out of their thoughts. The Madbay door slammed open and the elf came through, their hands in the pockets of their jeans.

“The votes are in, Diamonds’s coming with us.” Velvet locked eyes with Rhyme, who smirked, before sighing.

“Fine, whatever.” Two arms suddenly wrapped around her stomach and a face pressed against her side. Velvet quickly looked down to see the kid, now pressed against them. 

“Fucking-”

“I’m scared!” The kid shouted, hanging onto the assassin tighter. Velvet looked around at the two other people in the room. Rhyme and Solana looked at each other before breaking out in laughter. Velvet attempted to push the kid off but he wouldn’t budge. 

“Diamonds, get this fucking thing off of me,” the assassin growled. Rhyme continued laughing. 

“It’s just a child, Velvet,” Solana said as she caught her breath, “What’s your name, bud?” The kid looked up at him.

“Wyatt.”

“Hey Wyatt, why don’t you go with Solana?” Rhyme prompted, “They’re the elf.” The child shook his head and pressed it closer to Velvet. The teen groaned and stood. To their surprise, the kid held on. The sudden weight nearly caused her to fall to the ground but she quickly steadied herself. 

“What do you want, kid?” she muttered.

“Don’t leave me alone. Please.” 

“Mihi deōs,” Velvet groaned, “If I take you to Mad, will you leave me alone?” He looked up at her for a few moments before eventually nodding. Velvet sighed and adjusted the kid to be on their back. Solana laughed and held the door open for them. She paused at the door, turning back toward Rhyme. 

“Oh and, Reuter,” they began, “I’m going to talk to Mad about this. If I found out you hurt a mafia member…” They let the threat sit in the air as they turned and walked out, leaving a very confused Solana standing in the doorway. 

12:15. 

Mad stirred the red soup, the grilled cheese sitting on the pan. Maroon and Thorn were setting the table. The sound of plates hitting wood and metal being set on table mats came from its left. 

12:16. 

They were done setting the table now and sat in the wooden chairs. Mad flipped one of the six sandwiches and turned to them. 

“Thorn, you said you only wanted one side crispy?” The teen nodded, smirking.

“It makes it taste better.”

“I disagree,” Maroon mumbled, but Mad just nodded. They slid the sandwich onto their hand and set it down on Thorn’s plate. 

“Mad!” Velvet’s voice carried down the entryway, their footsteps echoing off the walls. Mad glanced up at the clock. 

12:17. 

“There, kid. There’s Mad. Will you get off me now?” Velvet said, stopping in the kitchen doorway. Maroon and Thorn’s eyes quickly fell on Wyatt, who jumped down from Velvet’s back. He grabbed onto the robot’s leg and smiled up at them.

“Mad!” 

“Hi, Wyatt. Are you okay?” 

“He woke up and attached himself to me,” the assassin began, “Refused to get off until he saw you.” Mad sighed and kneeled down to his level. The bandages were starting to fall off of his arm, no doubt from Velvet carrying him. The bruise seemed to be healing nicely, though.

“Are you feeling better?” they asked. He nodded.

“Could someone explain who that is?” Thorn asked, pointing at Wyatt. Mad kept their eyes on Wyatt. 

“Do you want some grilled cheese and tomato soup?” He nodded vigorously. Mad gestured to the table, and he sprinted over to take a seat. 

“That’s Wyatt,” it began, “He was recently adopted by Diamonds’s foster mom, Eliza Gracy, but we saved him this morning. He’ll be here for a bit until we can find him a good home.” Thorn’s mouth made a big ‘O’ while Maroon turned to look at him. 

“Hi Wyatt, my name is Maroon.” Mad carried a grilled cheese and bowl of soup over to the child, setting it down in front of him. It then turned to Velvet. 

“Are you hungry? Do you want some lunch?” 

“Not really, no. What the hell happened on that mission?” The teen demanded. Mad paused for a moment before turning back to the stove.

“Language, Velvet!” Thorn shouted, covering Wyatt’s ears, “There are little ears around now.” Wyatt squirmed out of Thorn’s hands.

“Fuck you, frūx.” Mad placed a sandwich on a plate and handed it to Velvet.

“Eat.”

“I told you, Mad-” 

“I can almost guarantee you’ve barely eaten today, Velvet. Would you prefer the soup instead?” The assassin narrowed her eyes but took the plate.

“No. Soup is fucking weird. But you’re telling me what happened.” 

“Of course,” the droid said quietly, “Let me get Maroon food then we’ll go outside.” Velvet frowned but nodded. Mad plated another sandwich and bowl of soup and set it in front of the youngest mafia member. 

“If Solana comes out here, tell him the last two sandwiches are for him and Diamonds. Just wait another twenty minutes or so before letting Diamonds eat.” Maroon nodded. Velvet followed it outside through the sliding glass doors in the kitchen, taking a bite of the sandwich. 

Mad sat down on one of the outdoor chairs, the teen following suit. 

“So what the fuck is wrong with you?” Velvet began, “What did Rhyme do?” 

“He killed Eliza.” Velvet groaned. 

“That’s what you’re upset about?”

“She wanted me to do it, at first. I didn’t. But…I don’t know. I feel like it was her plan the whole time?” Velvet took another bite of the sandwich. 

“Probably was.”

“But then why bring me? Did he just…” Mad’s voice broke slightly, “Did he just want to hurt me?” Velvet’s eyes widened as she looked at the droid. Mad looked away.

“Sorry. I know emotions aren’t really your thing. Um, what was I saying?”

“I really just wanted to know what you were pissed at Rhyme about. But you seem more…hurt than angry?” Velvet took another bite, “I don’t know. Did you run into any complications other than Eliza?” 

“Just her guards.”

“Got it.” The teen finished their sandwich and stood back up.

“Well, I’ve got mission planning to d-”

“Can I ask you an emotions question?” Mad blurted out. Velvet frowned.

“I mean, I guess. I feel like I’m the worst person to give you an answer, though.”

“I just wanna know, have you ever been so upset at someone but you can’t just…I don’t know, hate them?” Mad paused, “Like, you feel like you really should hate them but you just can’t?” Velvet was quiet for a minute or so. She seemed to be lost in thought as Mad’s soul seemed to race. Its thoughts raced as the teen sighed. 

“I guess.” Before Mad could ask more, the teen disappeared through the door. 

Mad seemed to refuse to meet Rhyme’s eyes, causing a pit to form in her stomach. The Red Mafia had changed into their mission uniforms: Mad in their red shirt and black jacket, Velvet in their jumpsuit with the red x, Maroon in a long-sleeved red shirt with a pair of black pants, Solana in a pair of red cargo shorts and a black tank top, and Thorn in a simple black short sleeve with red pants. Rhyme felt very out of place in the all-black outfit Velvet had given him. It was a little big, but the two teens were close enough in size for it to work. The assassin had also handed her a black beanie and sunglasses, similar to what Solana had on his face. 

“Did you get any of that, Diamonds?” Velvet asked, crossing her arms. Rhyme turned towards them from his current seat in the Umbrella’s cockpit. 

“Do you want an honest answer?”

“Mihi deōs.” Rhyme chuckled before standing.

“Before I make Velvet say that all over again, I should probably tell you all my name.” Mad finally looked at her.

“Diamonds, are you sure?” it asked, “You don’t have to say anything you don’t want to-”

“Mad, shut up,” Thorn demanded, leaning forward in his seat. Rhyme laughed again, putting her hands in her pockets. 

Keep joking. Ignore it.

“Trust me, strange robot, I’m sure. But, has anyone got any guesses before I reveal all?” She added a wink for good measure. Solana laughed and raised his hand.

“It’s going to be something stupid, like Bert or something,” the elf said. Rhyme shook her head and pointed at Maroon.

“Any guesses, fellow rhymer?” Maroon smiled and thought for a moment. 

“Hmm, Harper?” 

“Nope, although that’s kinda cool.” Before Rhyme could even glance at Thorn, the teen shook their head.

“I’ve got nothing, I’ve met you once.” Rhyme laughed again.

“Fair enough. Well-”

“Wait, Mad, what’s your guess?” Solana asked, “I think you know Diamonds better than any of us.” Mad let out a little chuckle that caused the pit to subside slightly. 

“I know Diamonds enough to already know his actual name.” 

“Boooooooo,” Thorn groaned, “Velvet, your turn.” The Red Mafia leader had been quietly standing behind Rhyme for the duration of the guessing game. She rolled her eyes.

“I’d guess, but that’s kind of unfair considering I also know it.” 

“Of course you do,” Solana muttered, “Diamonds, I apologise for whatever spying Velvet did to figure that out.” 

“All good, Solana. Anyways, drumroll please.” He gestured around the room, but everyone just stared at him. She stood up straight again.

“Rhyme, my name is Rhyme.” Maroon, Thorn, and Solana stared at her. 

“You’re joking,” Thorn stated. Rhyme shook his head.

“Nope. Ask Mad or Bolton.” Thorn glanced at Mad, who nodded. 

“So were you always good at rhyming, or did you learn it as a joke from your name?” Solana asked. 

“Bit of both. Hard to deny my amazing natural talent,” she flipped her hair as well. Maroon laughed and smiled at him.

“Your name really suits you, Rhyme.” Rhyme winked before turning around to look at Velvet. 

“Alright, what were you saying about the mission, Bolton?” Velvet sighed. 

“As I was saying,” they began, gesturing to the large map displayed in the hologram in the centre of the room, “We’re going to be entering from the East door. According to Zaeor, it should be less guarded. We’ll split up in groups of two: Mad and Thorn, Solana and me, and Maroon and Rhyme.” Rhyme attempted to hide the throb in her soul.

There goes that plan, he thought, God, it’s never gonna talk to me again.

“Unor recently visited this location to do ‘business’, so there’s a chance he left some information behind. Me and Solana, aka group 1, will take the top two floors of the complex and search it. Mad and Thorn, group 2, will take the second floor, and group 3, Maroon and Rhyme, will take the ground level.”

“So we’re just looking for any sign of Unor?” Rhyme asked before he shook his head, “Right, your whole thing is killing him. Forgot.” Velvet rolled her eyes. 

“Just get in and get out. Search your floors as quickly as possible and stay together. Maroon, we don’t have an extra set of comms to give Rhyme, so you’ll have to communicate for both of you. If any of you see anything, radio in. Am I clear?” The group nodded, with Rhyme adding a “crystal” to the silence. Velvet sat back down in the captain's chair while Rhyme moved to sit next to Mad.

“Hey, strange robot,” she said, smiling. Mad looked away from him and scooted to the left. Rhyme frowned, the pit in her stomach growing once again.

“So….are you sure we can trust that Zaeor dude to take care of Wyatt? He’s not gonna brainwash him or anything?” Mad sighed.

“No. But we don’t have any other choice.” 

“Right, ‘course.” Mad stood up and moved to talk to Velvet, leaving the thief alone in her seat. 

The pit grew larger.

Maroon led the way down the hall, Rhyme following close behind. Mushrooms slightly damped their footsteps before retracting back into the floor. 

“There’s an admin office to the left,” Rhyme mumbled. Maroon nodded. They took a left and Rhyme kicked down the door. The room was slightly messy, with chairs out of place and papers strewn around the desk. Maroon smiled. 

“Jackpot,” Rhyme muttered. The thief jumped to the desk while Maroon took to the bookshelves. They were quiet for a while, the sound of paper rustling and books opening and closing surrounding them. Rhyme muttered something under her breath.

“What was that?” Maroon asked, turning towards him. 

“Nothing, just thinking out loud.”

“Okay.”

“Actually, can I ask you a question?” he blurted out, “About Mad?” Maroon paused for a moment before nodding. 

“Let’s say I were to, possibly, bring Mad with me on a mission to murder my foster mom.” Maroon’s eyes widened.

“Oh.” The thief let out a nervous laugh.

“Yeah. How would I go about…apologising?” Maroon set the book they were holding back on the shelf. 

“Did you…mean to bring it along?” 

“Yeah.” A frown formed on the younger teen’s face. 

“Why? Don’t you kn-”

“Of course I know,” Rhyme interrupted, “I was the one they talked to every time they saw Velvet kill a new person. I was the one who understood.” 

“Then why’d you bring them?” Rhyme looked at the floor, one of her hands forming a fist. A chill went down Maroon’s spine.

“I don’t fucking know! My brain thought it would be easier if they were there. In case Eliza, you know…” Her other hand formed a fist and she quickly grabbed a file from the desk.

“But now I’ve ruined my relationship with the one goddamn person I’ve loved in 5 fucking years!” He threw the folder on the ground. Maroon watched the papers fly all over the room. The folder landed with a small thud, some kind of words on the front.

“Shit, sorry rhymer. I got carried away,” Rhyme mumbled. 

“It’s…okay. What’s the folder say?” The thief glanced down at it and her eyes widened. 

“Holy shit,” she muttered, picking up the scattered forms.

“What is it?”

“It says ‘B.A.D.: Project Rapio’. Help me pick up the papers.

Rapio. I seize.

Maroon quickly grabbed the papers around them and handed them to Rhyme. She scanned the pages while Maroon adjusted their earpiece.

“What is this language?” Rhyme asked. Maroon held their hand out so Rhyme handed the folder to them. They scanned the folder, their heartbeat racing. 

“He’s gonna attack the mansion.” They reached up to their earpiece. 

“Velvet, we found something.” Her response was almost immediate.

“What is it?” 

“Unor’s planning an attack on the mansion. On the 9th of December.” Maroon counted in their head.

…nine, ten, eleven. Eleven days until the 9th.

“Shit. Head back to the Umbrella, everyone.” Maroon took a deep breath. 

“Okay, we’ll be there,” they mumbled, turning to Rhyme, We’re meeting back at the Umbrella.” Maroon took a deep breath as Rhyme nodded. 

“Let’s get going, then.”

“Oh, and Rhyme.” The teen raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah?” 

“Talk to Mad. Tell them what you told me.” Rhyme frowned and looked away.

“It won’t even talk to me, though.” Maroon set a hand on her shoulder.

“I’ll talk to them. Get them to talk to you. Okay?” The thief looked up at them and a small smile appeared on his face.

“Thanks, fellow rhymer.”

“Rhymers stick together,” Maroon said, smiling, “Let’s go to the others.”

“Velvet, would you quit it?” Solana asked, crossing his arms. Velvet paused her pacing for a moment to glare at them.

“No.” 

“You’re stressing everyone out.” 

“That sucks, deal with it. I’m thinking.” 

“‘Course.” Velvet flipped through the folder and resumed their pacing. She muttered Latin under her breath as she read.

“Why are his plans mostly in Latin anyway?” Mad asked from the captain’s chair. 

“He’s really into ancient Rome and its culture,” Rhyme answered, “Eliza tried to learn it to talk to him but failed miserably.” At the mention of Eliza’s name, Mad looked towards the floor. Rhyme stared at them for several seconds before sighing. 

“This is bad,” Velvet mumbled, “This is very bad.”

“What’s it say?” Solana asked. Velvet looked up at him. 

“He’s found a way to break through the magic barriers and bought help from the UPS soldiers to stage a full-on assault.”

“Are we sure he didn’t just plant that document?” Thorn asked, aer arms around Maroon, “I mean, why would he give the UPS a document in Latin? He must’ve planted it knowing we would be showing up.”

“But what does he gain from that?” Maroon mumbled. Thorn looked down at them.

“Freaking us out? Getting us off our game?” 

“Us being off our game is the least of his concerns if he has two thousand soldiers,” Velvet interrupted. Solana’s eyes widened. 

“Two thousand?” she breathed. Velvet nodded. 

“Fuck.”

“Thorn is right about one thing, though. We have no way of knowing if the date or numbers in the plan are accurate,” Mad stated, “Unor could’ve planted that and lied.”

“So you’re saying we could be attacked anytime from now to the 9th?” Maroon asked. 

“That and after as well. He might have given us a date earlier than the actual attack to lower our guard.” Velvet closed the folder and groaned loudly. 

“Okay, we’ll have to reinforce all the magic defences. Find different spells, evolve our current ones. We’ll get Zaeor to recast the location remixer and-” 

“How about we save the plans for Zaeor?” Solana asked, patting the seat next to him, “We’re almost at the mansion anyways.”

“I’m not sitting down, Solana-” The elf sighed and stood. 

“Alright, hard way then.” She quickly held Velvet’s arms down and picked her up. They tried to squirm out of their grip to no avail. Laughter came from the other teens around the cockpit. Solana set them down in the seat and buckled them in. Velvet glared up at him.

“Let me out, mīles,” she spat. 

“Nope.” Solana looked around the cockpit. Despite the laughter, the air was still tense. Mad wasn’t even looking at them, instead completely focused on the GPS system. Maroon pressed up against Thorn, who hugged them tighter. Rhyme couldn’t take his eyes off Mad, no matter how much the robot ignored him. 

“Everyone buckle up,” Mad called out, “We’re about to land.” Thorn gently let go of Maroon and the two of them returned to their proper seats. Rhyme plopped down next to Solana, giving them a slight smile. 

“You good, Dia- Rhyme?” Solana asked. The thief nodded. The Mahogany Mansion slowly came into view, the pizza box Solana left outside still sitting on the picnic table. He chuckled to himself. Next to them, Rhyme shivered. 

“God, I hate that,” she mumbled. 

“Hate what, landing?” Thorn asked. Rhyme shook his head.

“No, the scanner thing. It just sends a thousand chills up and down my body and it freaks me out.” 

“Scanner thing?” Maroon questioned. Mad also turned to look at the teen, causing her to straighten up. 

“Oh, you mean the magic profiler,” Velvet interrupted. All eyes looked towards her.

“The what?” Mad asked. 

“The magic profiler. It just makes sure no one can enter that isn’t with one of us.” Thorn rolled his eyes.

“You need a better name for that.”

“There is one, but it’s in Astarca.”

“I’m not even going to ask what Astarca is,” Rhyme muttered. The Umbrella landed softly on the red soil and Mad guided it towards the garage. Rhyme’s ship still sat outside, parked and powered off. The mafia and Rhyme flowed out of the ship and into the mansion. Zaeor and Wyatt were sitting in the living, the kid playing Mario Kart on the TV. Zaeor looked at them and raised an eyebrow. 

“Back already?” He asked, smiling. Wyatt paused the game and stood up, embracing Mad. The droid picked him up and patted his head. Velvet threw the folder at him before crossing her arms. The god raised an eyebrow as he caught it.

“What’s this?”

“Read it. We found it at the UPS headquarters.” Zaeor scanned the pages for a minute or so before looking up at Velvet. He muttered something in a strange language that Solana couldn’t understand. Velvet replied in the same language, anger underneath the words. Mad leaned towards Maroon.

“Are you getting anything from this?” they asked. Maroon shook their head. 

“It’s not Latin or any fae language I’m aware of. Thorn?” 

“It sounds somewhat familiar but I have no clue.” Velvet’s hand formed a fist as Zaeor stood. He walked towards her, his voice low. Wyatt pushed closer to Mad.

“He sounds scary,” he mumbled. 

“Do you know what he’s saying, Wyatt?” Mad asked, looking down at the boy. He shook his head. 

“Fucking hell,” Velvet growled before returning back to the mysterious language. Solana raised a hand.

“Hey, uh, Velvet? Maybe switch languages so we can understand what you're saying?” The assassin looked back at her but Zaeor quickly said something that caused them to turn back around. The argument went on for a minute or so more before Velvet threw their hands in the air. She turned on her heel and stormed out of the living room. Zaeor called out after her.

“I’m fucking leaving!” they shouted back in English, “If you’re going to be completely unreasonable, I’m done talking to you!” Solana watched her run up the stairs before turning back to Zaeor.

“What was that about?” Mad asked the god. Zaeor sighed and sat back down on the couch. 

“She’s being…difficult. And paranoid.” Solana frowned.

“About the attack?” The god nodded. 

“I mean, it’s worth taking a look into,” Rhyme stated, crossing her arms, “Yeah, it could be fake, but there’s no harm in researching it more.” Zaeor sighed and looked over at the group. 

“Let me make one thing abundantly clear,” he began coldly, “The Mahogany Mansion is perfectly safe. No one can get in or out without permission so we have nothing to worry about. Regardless of if Unor is actually planning an assault, he will be unable to pull it off. There is nothing to worry about.” The room was silent for several moments after he finished as the group stared at him. Maroon grabbed onto Thorn’s hand and took a deep breath while Mad held Wyatt close to it.

“Couldn’t we just reinforce the defenses? Magical or otherwise?” Solana asked. Zaeor shook his head.

“There’s no need. You all are completely safe.” Zaeor gestured towards the TV, plastering a smile on his face.

“Now, surely you all need time to unwind from your mission. Sit, let’s play.”

Something in Solana’s brain told him that it wasn’t a suggestion, so he sat.

[bromcommie]

Okay, bear with me as I dig way too deep into a scene that was just meant to be a) nostalgic, b) the writers directly telling the audience the emotional state and thought process of the main character, and c) a "previously on" romance reminder, because god forbid your superhero movie have no tangible heterosexual romance subplots or implications:

I never really thought too much about the part of Steve and Peggy's conversation in the nursing home where she tells him he's "so dramatic" for having all of these existential doubts outside of how it's meant to indicate a certain degree of joking familiarity. And while sure, I feel like there's still some of that, the more I think about it the more her dismissiveness feels like an insight into Peggy's own guilt and just how morally grey and yet uncompromising in her own conviction she had to have gotten as the Cold War went on. And the more I consider that, the more the fact of Steve coming back starts to look like something of a wrench in the works of justifying all of it. Her following line, while essentially a reassurance directed at him—"You saved the world. We rather mucked it up"— starts to feel like a very binary, black and white response to Steve's all-encompassing crisis moment. There's something of an attempt at reinforcing the ideal of Steve she has in her head in order to momentarily go back to the “simple" glory days to it, as well as an old woman's rueful but ultimately half-hearted confession—which Steve doesn't really accept because he's also operating off of and clinging to a long-gone idea of her he has in his head.

The more you take into consideration everything we know about these characters outside the whole surface sentiment of, "gee, ain't their missed opportunity sad", the more the whole dialogue no longer reads as just two people who used to know each other reminiscing about The Old Times. It reads as two people that used to know each other during an intense but relatively brief period of their lives and that, yes, didn't have enough time to further explore or fully actualize that at all, let alone in peacetime circumstances, but that have also had wildly different life experiences since. Two people who now, for one reason or another, need the other to remain unchanged from who they believed them to be in the first place, to the point that they're simply not hearing each other at all. Steve needs the reassurance of someone familiar understanding where he’s coming from, but Peggy’s no longer that person, if she ever could’ve been completely; Peggy wants the reassurance that she built her post-war life on the right sentiment, and at least she gets Steve’s blind support, if not his absolution—if only because he doesn't know enough to grant it, or is unwilling to consider that Peggy is not the person he thought she was.

I mean if you look at Agent Carter it's pretty clear that while sure, Peggy might've known Steve better than the average joe off the street, his death and martyrdom still cemented an idea of him she formed over that year and a half or so of knowing him, which is very much not the same as the real thing, and that idea was importantly also influenced by her guilt over watching him die. Adding to that, I'm sure the more time passed the harder it would've been for her to actually divorce Steve as the person she knew once from the two-dimensional archetype of him, much like the rest of the world couldn't, as well as from the embodiment of her own failure. And conscious or not she probably wouldn't want to, either, seeing as how she probably clung to that steady, easily adaptable memory of a memory of Steve as an additional source of drive and justification in her own work. I’d even go so far as to say that it in itself definitely proved far more comforting than having the real Steve there to witness all the horrendous machinations conducted by the US intelligence apparatus at the time ever would’ve.

So when the miraculously alive, flesh and blood version of him expresses such fundamental doubt in the present day (while working for the organization she built and named after him, no less), after she's lived this whole life during which I have to imagine she continually convinced herself she was participating in all of these increasingly morally fucked things for the ultimate good of mankind (as well as partly in Steve's memory), that's a hell of an unwitting attack on her own legacy and character. From her end-of-life perspective, it's just easier to attempt to smooth over Steve's uneasiness, to label him a bit too brooding, too naive and black and white and idealistic, to say you're overreacting, while maybe thinking you have no fucking idea what real uncertainty feels like, rather than to in that moment acknowledge the weight of every choice she's made and to then have to entertain a very uncomfortable thought:

If Steve—this noble, heroic, stalwart Steve from her memories and the newsreels and the emblem of SHIELD, this walking embodiment of some personal ideal she's held up on a pedestal for god knows how long—isn’t actually all that unshakeable and doesn't know if he's working towards the right thing in this world she helped build, in these times that she probably views as much more stable than the ones she came up in/feels like she had to overcome, then what the hell does that say about the rest of them and how convinced they were that they were in the right? If Steve can doubt then he can also pass judgement, and what would he have thought about what Peggy and Howard were doing all that time? (Which is a question I'm sure would've come up many times in the early years, before she started to repress it eventually, or otherwise rationalized the answer to it.)

And what does it say about her own convictions during all those years?

So in the end what is meant as a soothing gesture ends up simultaneously propping Steve up as the two-dimensional epitome of a "do-no-wrong" time in American history—much in the same way the exhibit does, might I add—while also coming across as weirdly infantilizing and invalidating of his feelings on something as significant as his direction in life. I don’t think it’s a purposefully belittling move—I do think she’s actually trying to make Steve feel better, if in the same way she would an upset child, and on the surface the “none of us can go back” line is sound advice for someone in his position (laughably ignored later by the very same people that wrote it in the first place, but let’s not get into that)—but if we’re to take into account everything we’re left to assume about her conveniently off-screen life and career in intelligence, that whole “just get over yourself and move on” sentiment takes on a completely different, unsettling note.

oh man....thoughts on that peggy scene.... to come later

[hapan-in-exile]

Volume 1 - Post #1: Dinner Plans

The first installment in this ongoing serialized fanfic

Genre: Mandalorian x ofc! Reader

Total word count: 2.7K (of 25K total in Volume 1)

Rating: Explicit - smut, language, *NSFW*

______________________________________________

I. “No.” He responds dully, without pause. “Absolutely not.”

One of the more overlooked advantages of the Mandalorian’s helmet is that he so rarely has to explain himself. 

Sure, you can’t see the look of disapproval in his eyes. And maybe he doesn’t bother glaring at you from under the Beskar.

He doesn't have to.

Because staring into that inscrutable black view plate, wondering what the fuck he could be thinking, just—inevitably—draws out your insecurities like the pull of some collapsing star. 

Without ever picking up the rifle, most people simply disintegrate on the spot.

“Um, what?!” Nito, balks. “We haven’t even laid out the plan for you, Mando!” 

Fortunately, your crewmate is immune to the Mandalorian’s silent treatment. Which is why he’s the one talking. While you are coaxing a fussy toddler into eating more dietary fiber. 

Nito’s stunned disbelief at his genius being so casually brushed aside is a little heart-wrenching to watch, though. Frankly, you didn't think the bounty hunter would let him get past, ‘Something we’d like to discuss with you...’ before walking out of the cantina. 

Problem is, there’s no other—better—time for this conversation. Things have reached a sort of now-or-never inflection point.

“Maker! You could at least hear us out.” The Ardennian rolls his eyes upward as though he might actually receive intervention from a higher power.  

Mando turns his head to look at you, and that rough, wry voice broadcasts through the modulator. “Surprised you’d want to get mixed up in this?” 

Haze from the overhead fluorescents glint off his burnished helmet.

“Thought you had better sense,” he says pointedly. “Guess not.” 

W-w-what? you catch your head tilting involuntarily.

He probably meant that as some offhanded joke. Okay. But why should that stop you from grasping for deeper meaning? This startling revelation that, somehow, despite his seeming lack of interest in anything beyond your job responsibilities, the Mandalorian has come to … know you? That, maybe, despite all those times you felt invisible and ignored, in reality, he’s been making this quiet study of you, and... 

And, yes, it is pathetic how much your heart flutters just hearing him admit that he thinks about you at all.

“Exactly!” Nito raises all four arms in exasperation. “You trust Thuli, right? We went through every step together. She helped me plan the whole thing!”

You manage a weak smile that belies the shameful horror of, ‘That’s right, I sure did.’

In your lap, the child squirms, grunting in disgust as you press another spongy cube of bean curd between his reluctant little lips.

Erenada! When did you get sweet on Mando? And how did you not anticipate this very predictable outcome of falling for a man you can’t have as soon as he needed saving?

Isn’t this, in no small part, why you’re glad to have left the Medical Corps? Fucking every shock-trooper with a cute face who landed on your operating table before they inevitably died in combat or redeployed. 

“Let’s get something straight,” Mando’s temper flares. “This,” his leather finger traces a circle between the four of you, all huddled around the greasiest bar table in the galaxy, “Is not a crew. We are not a team. There is no vote. I employ you both to ensure that I,” he taps his chest plate, “can focus on the jobs that I take.”

Mmm...yeah, this might be worse.

At least the Droppers offered the encouragement of a knowing smile or lingering touch. There’s been a few times you may have caught him staring—arching your back in a deep stretch or crawling on your hands and knees to pull the kid away from some imminent danger. But with the helmet on, how can you be certain? And clinging to you through a haze of painkillers doesn’t count for much.     

Except that he was so different—unguarded—in that moment. The tenderness in his voice pleading with you to stay. His arms wrapped around you. The steady beat of his heart reverberating between you. The reminder that there was a man underneath all that steel and leather.

‘Just let me hold you...’

Drugs, you remind yourself. Painkillers, and one hell of an adrenaline crash.

“We aren’t looking to take a cut, Mando!” Nito looks up at the bounty hunter from under his desperately furrowed brow. “It’s not about the score,” he says imploringly. “We have a chance to help some people who really need it. Isn’t that a job worth taking?” 

Staring into those soft brown eyes so alight with righteous certainty, you know, truly, Nito is too pure for this galaxy. 

“And this worked on you?”

While the modulator distorts his voice, Mando's condescension is always crystal clear. 

Nito carries out whole conversations by himself, and the Mandalorian has gone days without speaking to you. Now, suddenly, everyone values your opinion? 

“Well—” you begin, taking in a deep breath. Convincing Mando to take Ubaa Dir’s commission had been Nito's job. You were just supposed to keep the kid occupied. 

But before you can get another word out, Mando points a gloved finger in the Ardennian’s face. “You are a mechanic, and she is a glorified nursemaid. Neither of you is qualified to engineer a heist against an intergalactic conglomerate.”

Your head snaps back as if slapped. Nursemaid? The sting of hearing him call you that is mortifying. Maybe this is what he really thinks of you... 

“Hey, that’s not fair!” Your champion, Nito, just instinctively comes to your defense. “First of all, how dare you, Mando? Thuli is a veteran. And second…Hell, after she sucked that Raquor'daan venom out of your leg? She straight-up saved your life!” 

Even in the dingy light of this dive, you can see your cheeks turn bright red in the reflection of his Beskar. Guess you should have kept that harrowing little detail to yourself. Cohabitating the smallest ship in the universe with your patients probably requires more discretion when drunkenly recounting ‘thrilling tales of emergency medicine.’ 

Thank the gods, your dimwitted smile is still plastered onto your face, or your jaw would have dropped open. You will never forgive Nito for this! 

“I get you blowing me off. Fine. But, surely you owe Thuli a chance to speak?” 

If the Mandalorian is similarly flushed with the memory of you ripping open his pants while he vomited all over the cargo hold, you wouldn’t know it. 

“No. I don’t,” he says flatly, resting an elbow on the table. “I pay her. It’s an exchange of money for services. That’s how employment works.”

‘What can I do to make you stay?’ he’d asked. Ugh, you are such a fool for thinking–hoping–he might remember that part.

The Ardennian folds both pairs of arms over his chest. “Well, seeing as how you can’t pay our wages right now, I guess we’re having this conversation on more equal footing.” 

Brushing the goop from your fingers, you place a hand in warning on the back of Nito's neck as the Mandalorian draws himself up in his seat, squaring those gleaming shoulders against the escalating tension. 

You’ve seen hardened criminals piss their pants, receiving this kind of intimidation from Mando. Instead, Nito shifts in his seat to look at you.

“Stop that!” Outraged, he slaps your hand away, “I can tell when you’re messing around in my head, you know.”

The baby chooses this moment to stand up in your lap and push his plate of bean curd off the table. "Whoah there, mister!"

As you reach down to pick up the mess, a many-legged creature crawls out from between the dusty floor tiles to snatch the wobbly globs of bean curd in its mandibles. The second its antenna brushes your fingertips, you scream like a hysterical coward.

All anger forgotten, Nito pulls your hand back out of reach. And despite knowing the image of that glossy, undulating body is going to haunt your sleep for weeks, 'damsel in distress' is too good an opportunity to waste. You take advantage of the momentary skin contact to lower Nito's blood pressure. 

If only you could do the same with the Mandalorian. But, there’s not an inch of him uncovered. And the Beskar is impervious to everything, including your power.

There's just no getting past that helmet.

“Hey,” Mando snaps at the child. “Mind your manners.” 

“Uuuuuuuuwaaaa!” 

All too aware that cuteness is his best defense, the kid tilts his head and blinks those enormous orb-like eyes. Blessed Mother, this kid knows how to play your heartstrings like the valachord. 

“Since when are you a picky eater?” Wrapping an arm around his middle, you pull the child back into your lap, a gleeful stream of giggles erupting when you whisper into his ear, “I’ve seen you slurp down mudscuffers, kiddo.” 

Mando shakes his head, releasing a staticky sigh. “You’re rewarding this kind of behavior?” 

“Hmmm...always,” and you wink at the bounty hunter before you can stop yourself. 

Which—you have really gotta quit doing that. 

It's just in your nature to shake his self-seriousness. And while most people ate it up since being a shameless flirt made for the ideal bedside manner, the Mandalorian remains wholly invulnerable to your charm. That, and the man wielded awkward silences like a weapon. 

But before the uncomfortable stare-down can commence, Nito is determined to have the last word. “Okay, Mando, you don’t want to hear the moral appeal? How about the fact that we need that commission!” 

“The air filtration system and pressure seals all got trashed in the sandstorm. The booster, the compression coil,” he begins ticking off fingers, and with twenty of them, you know this list could encompass a whole range of equipment the Razor Crest is in desperate need of repairing. “The bounty on those spice runners you’ve got in carbonite isn’t going to cover it all. And that’s if we could make it to Llanic to collect—which we can’t,” he points a furry blue finger upward, "Because to get off this rock anytime soon, we have to make it through the atmosphere.” 

Bleh, a wave of nausea roils through you, remembering the sensation of your bowels loosening in terror at the sudden loss of gravity amidst an angry chorus of alarms and shouting as you white-knuckled the landing on Sriluur. 

“I’ll have enough for the repairs after tonight,” is the extent of the Mandalorian’s reply.

It’s been, what, two days? Since the last time he almost died?

“Mando," you whisper. "We can get the money another way.” 

He looks at you sharply, surprised by the earnest concern in your voice. “The prize money from the Arena should cover the parts, with enough fuel to make it to Llanic. I only have to win a few matches.” 

Your voice exclaiming, “A few?!” is just barely audible over Nito’s snorting, “So you’re really gonna do it, eh?”

“Enough!” The bounty stands up forcefully, sending stool legs clattering. He knocks his leather fist on the table.

It’s very distracting that your nipples tighten every time he growls like that. Something about how cold and rough his voice gets. Mmph!

“Listen, both of you,” he snarls. “I am the captain. The ship is my responsibility. If I wanted your advice, I'd ask for it.”

And with that, Mando stalks away from the alcove towards the door.

When he passes your seat, he stops to loom over you. “Don’t forget we made a deal,” he says gruffly, and your nipples pinch a little tighter. 

Leaning back in your chair, you watch him leave the cantina, the other patrons jumping out of his path to the exit.

“Well,” you place both hands over your face to hide the rising color in your cheeks and flash Nito a smile from between your steepled fingers. “It was worth a shot.” 

“My responsibility…” Nito says mockingly, sticking out his chest. “He’s taking this one hard, eh?” 

“Yes!” You raise your voice emphatically. “Which is why you shouldn’t have made a snarky comment about it.”

It wasn’t the first time the Mandalorian had returned from a hunt empty-handed. Sometimes, the target died before he reached them, their fob suddenly going silent. Others were killed in reckless attempts to escape capture without enough of them left to collect on the bounty. Mando’s latest quarry, Lady Razz al-Hanor, had opted to throw herself off a cliff.

A once-powerful warlord, Hanor had fled into the Sriluurian badlands as soon as she realized the Hutts planned to oust her for some other despot. Mando was hired to deliver her back to the cartel alive, but it wasn’t losing out on the bounty that had the Mandalorian so bitter. 

No, it was the needless sense of guilt eating at him.

After taking the job, he’d been ambushed by a band of Weequay warriors looking to join him in the hunt for Lady Razz. To the Hutts, al-Hanor was simply a loose end to be tied up. They had no interest in holding her accountable for a lifetime of brutal repression. So, Mando was their last hope to confront Lady Razz before she was summarily tossed into a rancor pit.

And, of course, he agreed to help them. 

But any information about the Weequay, who’d disappeared under her reign, passed with her into the next world along with Lady Razz. Facing the prospect of being held accountable to her victims, al-Hanor jumped into a ravine. Mando nearly died himself trying to recover the body, but the bounty hunter refused the Weequays’ offer of reward. Instead, he told them to put the money towards a renewed search for their loved ones. 

And the fucking gallantry is why it’s impossible to stay mad at him. Mando could be at once both callously insensitive and profoundly honorable. It was infuriating.

“Should've known you’d end up saving his ass again.” Nito sneers, picking the plate off the floor as you wipe the kid’s face with the edge of your shirt. “What’s your cut for helping Mando survive the Arena?”

“I’m the new captain of the Razor Crest,” you pronounce with an air of exaggerated authority. 

“Getting stuck with us and a broken down ship?” he laughs. “You’re a terrible negotiator.” 

Tilting your head down, you pause to watch the kid tugging on the rivets of your jacket, his ears folded in concentration. “Come on, now. I’d be lost in this galaxy without the weight of you two on my back.” 

How long had it taken for Nito and the Child to form the very center of your universe? And let’s be honest, you were immediately captivated by the Mandalorian the minute he walked through your door. This fearsome warrior of legend, who'd somehow come to serve as the guardian for a tiny infant and a furry teenager. “Mando would never say it, but I know he feels the same way.” 

“Did you miss the part where we got chewed out for insubordination?” 

“Oh, Nito. Mando would have thrown you out of the airlock long ago if he didn’t have a soft spot for you.”

“Thanks for that reassurance, I guess?”

“Sharing the ship, flying with us...remember, it’s an adjustment for him.” 

It’s only been a few months, but sometimes it felt like you’d already spent a lifetime together onboard the Crest. Except, the longer Mando was gone on a job, the harder it was for him to fall back into the rhythm of domestic life. “Once he makes a decision, he’s not used to having someone else around, asking him to explain its logic.” 

Typically, the Mandalorian responded to skepticism or questions like any other barrier to achieving his will. Your concerns were just something else in his way. 

“Remember that you don't always have to make excuses for him.” Fucking, Nito. Voice still hadn’t dropped, and yet he’s obviously far wiser than you. “Besides, I’m the one who has your back, Thuli. You should take my side.”

“Trying to de-escalate your confrontation with our boss, a professional killer? Believe me, I have your best interest in mind, buddy.” You stroke the downy fur atop his head before pushing back from the table.

“Ok, but don’t do it by tinkering with my brain chemistry.” He jumps down from his stool on two short, bowed legs.

“I would never do that,” you lie, winking at him. “It's unethical.”

Nito glowers up at you. “Sure thing. Just put those gloves back on, Doctor Baqri.”

Gathering yourselves and the kid, you leave the cantina with far less menace and theatrics than the Mandalorian.

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