#and she said the concept for avoiding killing enemies is really cool

[weevile-mantis]

Man. I shoud talk to my mum about my interests more

[styrmwb]

I beat Chrono Trigger

And I beat it like, nearly entirely unspoiled too.

For the longest time Chrono Trigger was "The most Styrm game Styrm has never played" and I felt silly cause my super cool ADHD brain never decided it was gonna decide to play it until now (I also had to get it done before FFVII rebirth or it was NEVER gonna happen lmfao)

So like, what are my onions?

The game's so fucking good, it stands up so incredibly well that I regret not getting to it sooner. The music, the story, the gameplay, the art (backgrounds and spritework), every single part of this game I absolutely adored. I can MAYBE think of like 2 things I would have changed about the game but they're so minor.

Characters

I loved every single party member. The ones with character felt so alive and enjoyable, and the ones that didn't really have much character were super fun to use in battle. Crono MIGHT be one of the most broken JRPG protags I've played as; I gave him a counter item for the whole game and he would constantly attack with high crits. Marle is one of my favorite characters; being all adventurous and shit, rejecting the stuffiness of royal society but like, not NOT caring? I like it. Plus she was instrumental in having me not die lmfao. Lucca had a really great character arc with Robo and her mother, and blowing shit up was super fun. Speaking of, Robo deserves the entire world; I would die for him. Unfortunately he didn't get as much use in my playthrough as I would have wanted, but I still dearly care for him. Ayla was a powerhouse even though i completely neglected her thief mechanic, and despite her caveman speak and relative lack of goal compared to the cast, I really appreciated her presence as I almost felt like she was a pillar For the rest of the cast. Magus was hype. I'll describe thoughts later down the list, but for his gameplay his magic annihilated battles, and the dude pretty much solo'd the Lavos boss rush.

Finally; Frog. The absolute best character in the game. His design? Creative. His story? Heartbreaking yet heroic. His gameplay? Essential. I loved Frog from the moment I saw him and he was with me through thick and thin. Something I really appreciated was that HE got Masamune rather than Crono. Sure, Crono is the main character, but Frog is the hero. I love my amphibious mans.

Lavos is super cool to me. It's not really a character (but kinda is?) and more like a force of nature. I also think it's kinda conceptually funny that the main villain of this classic game is the meteor that killed the dinosaurs. I don't think I FULLY understood what it truly was, but it's a concept that I very much enjoyed.

Overall, all of the characters in this game are great. Everyone has a role, everyone is enjoyable in their own way, and I really love seeing how the time travel aspect would let you see fates of characters and their role in history.

Gameplay

I loved the lack of random battles. Every battle felt planned and like its own individual puzzle, especially with the positioning gimmick; what enemies get hit by what abilities, how do I avoid hitting this enemy with the element that heals them with my super strong AoE ability. The idea of dual and triple techs enhanced this further: am I gonna use individual turns for heals or am I gonna just have Crono and Ayla fuckin decimate the entire area?

The aspect of time travel felt overall very well used. Past experiences affecting the future, but things in the future not affecting backwards; it feels like it should be obvious it works that way but it just felt like, well executed. this paragraph proves i need to get better at writing cause ultimately I just said I liked it

I also feel like the whole beginning section with the fair leading to the trial really makes you think harder about what to pay attention to and what matters: it teaches well without shoving it in your face. Might just be because I play a lot of RPGs and this is an older one, but I was able to discern the knowledge i needed easily.

Story

So to clarify here, I know there are multiple endings, but I got two; the Die To Lavos Ending not sure why i got this one nope and the real ending; I tried to do everything that I possibly could, so that was my experience.

It's great. I kinda loved how it was less a "party vs a bad time man" and more of a "party vs a natural calamity": I feel like that's not done often in games, there's usually a big bad (which I don't hate!) but it was a nice change of pace. I absolutely loved how each timeline had its own individual struggles, and the nature of time travel made them flow together very well in small ways (like defeating Magus makes Ozzie the worshipped one). Being able to go into it unspoiled really improved the huge moments, like Magus and Crono's big events (not gonna say in case there's someone like me out there), and I very much enjoyed guessing what would be next and what would affect what.

The Only Major issue I have is the 3 party limit, and character dialogue being locked to who you have. I feel like there would have been some really cool moments had everyone been there, like the campfire scene where everyone got their time.

Music

I mean, it's peak. I've already heard some of Mitsuda's work in later games, but hearing him here do (pretty much) the whole soundtrack was just a treat to my ears. The main theme is stuck playing in my head daily. The overworld and cutscene songs I think are where it shines, although I did really like the battle songs as well. and as always shoutouts to Uematsu we love that man.

Art

Again, a short section, but this game is beautiful, and I could tell that a lot of the techniques they used felt advanced for the time, like the time travel effect, or the car race; the spritework felt bouncy and alive, the backgrounds were beautifully detailed (Like Magus's Castle holy shit), and the entire game was a joy to look at.

Unspoiled

So yeah, I beat this game unspoiled somehow. I knew a couple characters like Crono and Lavos (the fact that they Existed), I've seen some backdrops like the campfire and Masamune in its sheath, and I've heard some songs; but other than that, I didn't know anything!

(warning for spoilers if you are like me and have gotten unspoiled don't read this)

Like I said in the story, it was really fun to figure out how things would be affected by the nature of time travel, naturally figuring out side quests like Fiona, and being hit by moments that I never would have expected. I didn't think my actions at the fair would affect anything until I saw the trial which made me question everything (I'm sorry old man for eating your lunch) (twice). I remember getting what i thought was the full party cause that's what the box art was, until I noticed what I thought was a 7th party member slot, leading me to wonder when this person would join and who it is; discovering Antiquity (also a surprise to me) convinced me that the person was here, and then that said person was Boy with cat that said I was gonna die, and lo and behold I was right! But not in the way that I thought. Seeing Magus be the final member was incredibly rewarding, and I probably wouldn't have gotten him if I didn't get reality checked by my actions mattering in the trial (although I do wish he had some more party interactions and dialogue). Also close to this: I did not know Crono STRAIGHT UP dies. Like, OBVIOUSLY he was gonna come back, right? But to have that happen to your main character? Felt revolutionary for the time. Didn't think Lavos was gonna be like, a humanoid creature, and I ESPECIALLY didn't think it was gonna have a phase 2.

(ok spoilers over)

Final

I could not be happier with my experience for this game. I can absolutely see why it is considered a masterpiece, and it's clearly going to stick with me for a good long while, the rest of my life, even. My negatives are incredibly minor, really only wanting more party dialogue and interactions (and to remove Golem FUCK that fight lmfao), and for that, I can probably consider it one of my favorite RPGs.

10/10, thanks for reading my ramblings if you did.

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

@waynes-multiverse

I am so SO excited that this series is starting! I'm obsessed with the concept and am excited to dive in 💗

“A ‘please’ wouldn’t hurt you every once in a while,” you muttered with a glare at the supe. “Disagree,” he huffed.

That's it... I'm hooked. It's too late for me, the story has me now, save yourself!!

Soldier Boy was obnoxious, loud, rude, sexist, racist, lazy, arrogant, selfish, cruel, deceitful, complacent, vindictive, inconsiderate, paranoid, ruthless and unsympathetic. Honestly, you’d need a whole dictionary just to get through every single character trait you hated about that man.

I'm cackling 🤣 "a whole dictionary..." The lore of her hatred for Ben is fueling me. This enemies to lovers already has me feral.

“Yeah, I got it for my twenty-fifth birthday. I went to Zeppelin’s first tour in 1969. Only wear it on special occasions,” you told him with a smile.

Okay I love the time traveling! And that she uses it so freely to go to concerts and things is just so cool!

“Don’t kill him,” Annie reminded you of the office mantra with calm in her voice as she sat behind you at her desk, causing Soldier Boy to snort a laugh. “Isn’t it time for your nap, gramps? You’re sundowning,” you retorted instead with a teasing smile.

I'm DEAD 🤣🤣🤣☠️ Both Annie and the readers quips are KILLING me!

“Oy, simmer down, kids,” Butcher assuaged but didn’t even bother to glance up from the newspaper in his hands. Instead, the Brit leaned back in his chair and threw his legs up on the desk, settling into a more comfortable position.

Butcher just being the dad and relaxing like everything is completely fine when they're bitching at each other in the background is so on brand for him. 🤣

But that all stopped when you accidentally cast yourself into the Middle Ages and almost got burned at the stake for witchcraft. For some reason, your powers wouldn’t work until the last second – you figured extreme distress had been a factor. When you closed your eyes at night, you could still feel the scorching heat underneath your bare soles and smell the smoke reaching your nose and lungs.

This is terrifying to think about, but I really love that this is the reason why the reader is having a little bit of trouble with her powers. That she went through something so traumatic and it's making her have PTSD from it and it's effecting how her powers work.

Afterward, you had decided to pack up like Maeve and finally live your life. You’d even applied as a physics professor at a small college. But then Soldier Boy made his own request: Either you’d stay, or he’d walk. And if he had walked, your deal with Edgar would’ve fallen through.

I like that she's really focused on physics and has given more thought to how her powers work and that she seems to care more about where she ends up in time to avoid changing things in the future. And the little hints of the way Ben is always watching her, asking her to sing, and even this of him not letting her leave the team is really making my heart go out to him.

Of course it's also kinda turnong into fury as well because I'm here wanting to smack Ben around for acting like such a jerk to her- touching her when she said no and just trying to make her angry no matter what she does. Because BEN THAT'S NOT GOING TO HELP ANYTHING AT ALL!

It took less than a second, a blink of an eye, but you felt it immediately, knew instantly what had happened as gravity itself stretched out its tentacles and wound them around your limbs, tearing and tugging until you ripped at the seams and atoms spilled out of you.

Love the description of how the reader feels when she passes through time! Again, her powers are so cool 🤗

“I-I’m so sorry, miss. Please forgive me… I was just checking if you were okay,” he stammered and forced a reassuring smile, his hands still held high in good faith.

Oh my word he's actually SWEET 😭 THE BABY 🥹🤭 But holy rabies the whiplash the reader must be feeling interacting with him is probably tremendous!

Wayne, this is already so amazing! The way you write is just so pretty and immersive- especially the bits when she lands in the 40's- and I'm in love with this story. I can't wait for what's coming next!

Time After Time – Chapter 1

Summary: Unable to control your abilities, you’re stuck in the present with Billy Butcher, his team, and America’s first asshole. At this point, you’ve become Soldier Boy’s personal punching bag. But when an accident leaves you stranded in 1942, you run into a familiar face and suddenly rely on your future tormentor’s help as your only hope.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x supe!Reader

Warnings: 18+ for language, angst, Soldier Boy being an insufferable ass, reader is a supe with chronokinesis (time manipulation), post S3 alternate ending, enemies to lovers & slow burn, set partially in 1942

Word Count: 6.0k

Posted on Patreon March 1, 2025

A/N: Weeee, so excited to finally share the first part of this series with all of you! From mortal enemies to classic romance, crazy and angsty time travel theories, and a glimpse behind the green suit (in both ways), we're gonna have a lot of fun with this one 😉💕

Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist || Tag List

Chapter 1: Of All the Gin Joints...

“Move, or I’ll move you.”

Annoyed, you huffed a sigh and lifted your feet off the coffee table, shifting a few inches to the right, so Soldier Boy could pass by with a deep grumble. You rolled your eyes back slightly when he plopped down next to you on the worn, old couch in the office of the Flatiron Building.

“A ‘please’ wouldn’t hurt you every once in a while,” you muttered with a glare at the supe.

“Disagree,” he huffed.

When Butcher and his team tracked you down and recruited you almost a year ago, you surely hadn’t signed up to spend your days with a fossil from the past century. All they had wanted you to do was find the weapon that could destroy Homelander. That weapon turned out to be Soldier Boy.

And you had found him, freed the man from forty years of Russian torture without receiving so much as a ‘thank you,’ and helped the team take down Homelander, who was currently powerless and safely locked up in a CIA black site. Now, you were still here – as was Soldier Boy.

To your dismay, he wasn’t just the most powerful supe on the planet, especially after his own son’s steep fall from grace, but he was also the biggest motherfucking asshole that ever walked the earth.

Soldier Boy was obnoxious, loud, rude, sexist, racist, lazy, arrogant, selfish, cruel, deceitful, complacent, vindictive, inconsiderate, paranoid, ruthless and unsympathetic. Honestly, you’d need a whole dictionary just to get through every single character trait you hated about that man.

This morning he’d been particularly belligerent as soon as he had set foot inside the office and Hughie bumped into him, causing Soldier Boy to spill his iced latte. To be fair, the guy had just been standing in the doorway like a moron for a full three minutes – he’d stared at you the whole time, probably thinking of new ways to torture you.

Today marked your 30th birthday of all things, so it was only natural your over six-feet playground tormentor would be present for the occasion.

“Led Zeppelin, huh?” he noted with an arched brow, eyeing your choice of outfit. You mostly wore band shirts from tours you’d been to from your time traveling adventures.

“Yeah, I got it for my twenty-fifth birthday. I went to Zeppelin’s first tour in 1969. Only wear it on special occasions,” you told him with a smile.

In some rare moments, it was actually possible to have a normal fucking conversation with him. You hoped it was one of those. Aside from his grumpiness in the morning, maybe he’d decided to give you a break on your birthday.

“Oh, yeah, right…” He rolled his eyes and scoffed. “Happy fucking birthday, I guess.”

“That is so sweet of you, thank you,” you replied wryly.

He knew what you were doing. His smile rose – and then morphed into a provocative smirk. “So, thirty, huh? How’s that feminist bullshit working out for your biological clock, sweetheart?”

“Don’t kill him,” Annie reminded you of the office mantra with calm in her voice as she sat behind you at her desk, causing Soldier Boy to snort a laugh.

“Isn’t it time for your nap, gramps? You’re sundowning,” you retorted instead with a teasing smile.

You took his taunts lightheartedly. After all, you didn’t think you’d have to worry in that department – much like him. For some reason, you didn’t age… a lot. At least, it was slower than the average supe and human. You figured it might have to do with dropping in and out of wormholes. You had aged just fine as a kid but it progressively began to slow around your sixteenth birthday – the first time you’d traveled through time and jumped to Nirvana’s MTV Unplugged show in New York of December 1993.

You remembered your parents had been fighting behind the broken and yellowing partition slider of a trailer you had called your home. You’d lain on the pull-out bed with your headphones on and a Walkmen, trying to drown out their screaming. You listened to that record and wished you could be there – and then you were.

You’d found your ruby slippers.

To this day, you still got ID’ed at every bar, club, and liquor store alike. Soldier Boy had never been carded. He’d once claimed it was because he was famous, to which you’d almost spat out your drink and told him the wrinkles didn’t lie. Least to say, that little joke hadn’t flown well with the supe.

“You know, doll, if you ever need that tension to disappear from your shoulders, I’m right here.” Soldier Boy smirked cockily at you and spread his legs a little further apart. Not a day passed by when he didn’t hit on you either – or anything with tits, really. “Just say the word, and I fuck it right outta you. I do like ‘em older, you know, so I don’t give shit. But if you wanna get cracking on this baby thing, we better fuck on this couch right now.”

“Please don’t,” Hughie pleaded in a high-pitched sigh, glued in his spot next to Annie.

“No, thanks,” you scoffed and scrunched your nose in disgust. “You’re a fucking pig.”

“Hey, c’mon, I know you want to,” replied Soldier Boy without an ounce of self-reflection, his smirk only widening as his hand crawled up your thigh. “Bet you’ve been waiting for a big dick like mine, haven’t you?”

“Get your fucking hands off of me!” You slapped his fingers away, huffing in frustration.

Not even your kindergarten bully had been this fucking annoying – and that kid threw a dodge ball at your face and broke your nose.

Fortunately, while your own powers were on the fritz, you still had some superhuman strength. Sure, not as much as Soldier Boy, but if he shoved, you could at least push back enough for him to leave you alone.

For, like, five seconds.

Soldier Boy laughed loudly at your rejection. “I do like ‘em feisty,” he murmured with a sultry voice, invading your space even more as he shifted closer on the couch. Lion king on the prowl. “You know, you’d be less useless if you spread your legs every once in a while.”

Jumping up from your seat, you rounded the table to bring space between you and face him properly. It was always smarter when he was in your view at all times and you could watch his brazen hands with an eagle eye – the same hands that currently began to roll a blunt on the coffee table.

“Hey, if it weren’t for me, you’d still be frozen solid in a box in Russia,” you bit.

“Well, we’d like to think we would’ve found him eventually, love,” Butcher threw in from across the room, the sly grin on his face telling you he was enjoying the show.

“See?” Soldier Boy sneered complacently. “Fucking useless.”

“You’re fucking useless!” you yelled, anger surging through every inch of your body. “No one fucking likes you! You don’t have friends, you don’t have family, and everyone in this room fucking despises you – just like your old team!”

Slowly, he rose from his spot on the couch, nostrils flaring, his sheer height imposing as he towered over you like the Empire State. A part of you was glad there was still a piece of furniture between you – even though that wouldn’t stop him in the slightest.

“You take that fucking back,” he snarled, one hand balling into a fist by his side while the other pointed a warning finger at you.

However, you stood your ground, crossing your arms in front of your chest, a challenging look in your eyes but a subtle swallow in your throat. “No,” you said defiantly and bristled. “I’ll drop you into the fucking Jurassic era where you belong, fossil. Watch you become a T-Rex’s fucking chew toy.”

Soldier Boy’s grin boldly widened, green eyes shimmering daringly. “Do. It.”

“Oy, simmer down, kids,” Butcher assuaged but didn’t even bother to glance up from the newspaper in his hands. Instead, the Brit leaned back in his chair and threw his legs up on the desk, settling into a more comfortable position.

Soldier Boy threw him a dismissive look, annoyed at the interruption, before his attention turned back to you with a spiteful sneer. “You know, if I were you, I would’ve used those powers properly. I would’ve gone back and fucking killed baby Hitler or some shit.”

You scoffed a humorless chuckle. “Yeah, not surprising you would’ve killed a fucking baby,” you retorted dryly.

“See, this is why you’re a fucking failure,” he taunted and stepped closer, his face only inches away from yours now. You could feel his hot breath against your skin. “Those powers were clearly wasted on you, doll. Women are too fucking soft.”

You snorted, shaking your head. You didn’t even know why you still argued with that asshole. He’d never change. And you sure as hell couldn’t say shit like:

What d’you know? You’ve never seen a war zone from the inside, you fucking bigoted coward. 

“I’m not soft,” you insisted instead, narrowing your eyes to a glare.

“Prove it.”

“I wouldn’t hesitate to go back in time and fucking kill you!”

At this point, you wouldn’t. You really wouldn’t fucking mind at all.

However, Soldier Boy only laughed in your face like you were the bug about to hit his shield. “Oh, you can certainly try, sweetheart. But you can’t, can ya? ‘Cause you’re fucking broken. Like I said, useless,” he reiterated harshly, his sneer widening when his hand reached out and clasped your chin between his fingers. “Don’t worry. I’ll find some good use for you. Especially for that mouth.”

Furiously, you thwarted his advances once more. “I said don’t fucking touch me!”

“Yo, Soldier Boy, c’mon! Leave her alone now,” MM warned, finally getting fed up too. He usually avoided the supe to the best of his abilities, only snapping every once in a while when the asshole took it too far.

This time, MM only got involved because Hughie kept sending him frantic looks of panic during your heated exchange, probably worried you’d antagonize the supe so much he’d detonate the whole building.

“Mind your own fucking business, punk,” Soldier Boy dismissed the intervention, his venomous eyes still fixed on you.

The anger was storming through your body and closing your throat with a tight chokehold. You could barely breathe as your chest heaved and your ears rang. It was always worse when you got angry. Unfortunately for you, Soldier Boy had a way of pushing your buttons and setting off your triggers.

Your superpowers had the ability to control and bend time – or at least they used to. You had mostly used it to stop the clock and get an extension on your homework deadlines. But technically, you could also travel through time.

Once you had found out how that worked, well, you quickly became addicted. You went to concerts of bands that didn’t tour anymore, you’d shamelessly make money on Wall Street and placed bets on football games, and sometimes, you even ate dessert twice.

It was all about the little things.

But that all stopped when you accidentally cast yourself into the Middle Ages and almost got burned at the stake for witchcraft. For some reason, your powers wouldn’t work until the last second – you figured extreme distress had been a factor.

When you closed your eyes at night, you could still feel the scorching heat underneath your bare soles and smell the smoke reaching your nose and lungs.

Afterward, you didn’t want to use your powers any longer – not that you could. PTSD was a real bitch sometimes.

You had lived quietly and alone in a cabin near Montréal for years. After your parents found out they couldn’t make money off of you, they kicked you to the curb. And when you knocked on Vought’s doors, asking for help, they told you not to use your abilities – before they tried to kill you. That was the moment you’d realized you might be more powerful than you’d initially surmised. Until then, you had only used your powers for your pleasure and the occasional personal gain.

So, maybe, Soldier Boy was right when he said you had never used your gift wisely.

After your flight from Vought, you lived under a fake name and took up online college classes in physics and history to understand your abilities better and avoid grave mistakes.

And boy, time travel was a fucking bitch.

Years of study could be summarized to this, however: If you even so much so as killed the wrong fly in 1783, the whole world could go extinct.

Or in Vought’s terms: If you accidentally fucked up history, it might fuck with their business and money.

That was the reason why they had been trying to get rid of you for the longest time – until Butcher showed up on your doorstep. You had no idea how the Brit could’ve found you or even known about your powers in the first place. After your escape, Vought had kept your existence quiet. They knew if the wrong people found you, it would end direly for them.

Wrong people like William Butcher.

At first, he wanted you to go back in time and, in his words, “kill the chubby, little cape cunt.” Needless to say, you had declined. Even if Homelander was the worst creature to ever walk this earth, excluding his sperm donor, you wouldn’t kill a baby. You wouldn’t kill anything or anyone, really.

If anything, you could be classified as a bit of hedonist – or “a fucking hippie,” as Soldier Boy once had put it. Which, granted, was probably a trait you both shared. Although, Soldier Boy took the whole fucking cake and ate it, too. At least all you ever did was steal a tiny slice every once in a while.

In the end, you had never asked for these powers. You were just trying to make the best out of a bad situation.

But when Butcher then asked you if you could at least “hop back” to retrieve the weapon that had neutralized Soldier Boy in 1984, you finally told him you were essentially useless.

A part of you wanted to help, though. While you had closed yourself off from the rest of the world, you had still followed the news. You knew it had gotten bad out there. You could see Homelander spinning out of control and threatening to burn the world. You knew soon enough your house would burn, too.

You knew the monster needed to be stopped.

So, you offered Billy Butcher the only thing you could – a glimpse into the past, so he could find the weapon in the present.

And you did. You saw how Soldier Boy’s own team had despised him so much they handed him off to the Russians during an ambush in Nicaragua – but they hadn’t killed him.

The diabolical smirk on Butcher’s face had scared you. You knew he’d realized in that moment that you could be valuable after all. So, naturally, he threatened to give up your location to Vought if you didn’t join his team.

And well, here you were.

You’d traveled to Russia, you’d freed Soldier Boy, and you’d defeated Homelander. But even after the job was done, you stuck around.

Hughie, Annie, MM, Frenchie, Kimiko, and even Butcher – they had all sort of become your friends. And they protected you, even though Vought had sworn they were done hunting you. No one trusted Stan Edgar, and you knew he would probably still rather have you buried six-feet-deep if he ever got the chance.

So it was nice to know the whole team stood behind you. Well, all but one.

Part of the deal with Edgar had been a request to keep Soldier Boy away from Vought’s business. The guy was smart enough to know he wanted nothing to do with the ticking time bomb, either.

“And what are we supposed to do with that wanker, huh?” Butcher had asked as all of you stood in a very breezy office at Vought Tower – which had still been under heavy construction after the fallout.

“Let him play hero, keep an eye on him, and I’m sure we’ll have no issues, Mr. Butcher.” Edgar had smiled cunningly, his eyes flickering to you. 

Afterward, you had decided to pack up like Maeve and finally live your life. You’d even applied as a physics professor at a small college. But then Soldier Boy made his own request: Either you’d stay, or he’d walk. And if he had walked, your deal with Edgar would’ve fallen through.

Soldier Boy was a bully. In fact, he could teach master classes in it. You didn’t think there was one good bone in his body. So far, you could count the times the guy had actually been nice to you on one hand – two fingers to be exact.

The first time had been the very first night you’d spent together in that rundown motel after he’d killed Crimson Countess. You took over the nightshift of babysitting while Hughie and Butcher took a snooze in the adjoining room. That night, Soldier Boy had shown you a glimpse of a human being.

“Well, currently, there are two working theories on time travel: The closed loop theory and the alternate timelines theory,” you’d explained after he had asked you how actual time travel worked. Most people gave up after a minute, but he had still been in it after five.

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“Well, lemme see…” Musingly, you had pursed your lips and thought for a moment. “Terminator came out in ‘83, right? You’ve seen it?”

His lips had slowly risen to a smile. “Yeah… Actually one of the last fucking movies I watched before the fucking Reds got me.”

“Right.” You’d nodded. “Still remember what happened?”

He’d scoffed and rolled his eyes a little. “I’m not that old…”

“Well, it’s been forty years since you’ve seen it…”

“Schwarzenegger comes from the future to kill that blonde chick,” he’d summarized with a cocky smirk that should’ve proven to you he wasn’t demented.

“Yeah, remember the soldier who came back to save her, too?”

“Oh. Yeah, that guy…” His nose had scrunched slightly. Of course he’d be rooting for the killing machine. “What about that fucking wimp?”

“The Terminator was supposed to kill Sarah because her yet-unborn son would defeat the robots in the future, but the soldier who came back to save her is actually the baby’s father.” There had been no way you could’ve explained it any simpler than that. “So, the Terminator actually created the circumstance, which made him go back in the first place. That’s a closed loop. Does that make sense?”

He’d nodded slowly, his brow creasing heavily in concentration. “Yeah, I think it fucking does…”

For hours, he’d asked you questions about your powers, and when he was through all of that, he even asked you about your life, what you did for work, and how you ended up here. And you’d figured he was trying to schmooze up to you to use you for his gain – or maybe he’d just been coming down from all the drugs he’d taken that day.

Either way, after what you’d seen the Russians do to him, you could understand why someone like him might want to turn back time and get a redo. The unpleasant images, the inhumane torture he’d endured, actually caused you to have sympathy for the supe.

For a second.

When you’d tried bringing it up and be his friend, he had quickly shot you down. He’d been an even bigger dick since then, as if the sheer thought of someone seeing his weaknesses scared him.

Yes, a little, gray mouse like you apparently fucking terrified the biggest and strongest elephant in this world.

Honestly, you didn’t know why the supe had insisted on your presence. Maybe he just needed the perfect victim to antagonize as he passed the time. Sometimes, you did feel like the new Black Noir of Payback.

There’d only been one other incident where he’d shown something remotely resembling kindness:

He’d complimented you.

A real, sweet compliment – and he’d actually meant it – and he hadn’t hit on you in the same breath.

One night, a few weeks ago, Annie and Frenchie had dragged everyone of you to a karaoke bar to “decompress.” Even Soldier Boy tagged along and seemed in somewhat good spirits all night – there’d been no heinous taunting, only the usual flirtatious teasing.

One of those flirtatious attempts had been a dare for you to sing.

“Oh, c’mon! One song,” he’d begged and shifted closer to you on the small leather sofa in the corner of the bar. “How about something from the fucking 80s? Like Cyndi Lauper! I’m sure you’d like that, huh?”

“What, you want me to sing ‘Girls Just Wanna Have Fun’? Really? You?” You’d arched a brow at him.

He’d chuckled, and it’d been a sweet sound instead of a mocking one. “Hey, look, I’m all about the girls having some fucking fun,” he’d said coolly before a lick of his lips turned him a bit more serious, mysterious even. “How about something a little slower… Time After Time!” He’d grinned proudly and raised his expensive whiskey glass to your cheap beer. “That’s fucking perfect for you!”

And then you actually went on stage and sung. You weren’t a bad singer, either, but you were by far no Mariah. However, you could see Soldier Boy watching you intently the whole time with that strange look he sometimes carried whenever he was staring at you – something he did quite often.

In fact, he’d stared at you pretty intensely when he’d first walked out of his cryo-chamber, too. It gave you the creeps the same way that naked homeless man had once done in a subway after 1 AM. And then, he had fucking detonated, which had freaked you out so much you’d accidentally disappeared back to New York with a five minute time difference forward – the only time you’d actually managed to travel into the future.

But after your performance, Soldier Boy had passed you on your way down from the stage and intercepted you by placing a tentative hand on your arm.

“You have a really beautiful voice,” he’d said and even gifted you a small but genuine smile.

“Thank you.”

Sweetly, you’d even mirrored his smile after no other insults or advances followed. You’d been practically baffled. As you had glanced at him more carefully, though, you’d noticed something gleaming in his eyes, almost melancholic. You’d supposed after 104 years, he had probably been experiencing a ton of déjà vu.

“You okay there, gramps?” you’d checked with a bit of a teasing smile, and maybe that’d been your mistake.

“‘M fucking fine,” he’d huffed. He’d suddenly turned cold again, the hard lines on his freckled face crestfallen. He’d spun around, marched out of the bar, and ditched you there on the spot. 

So, that was what you had done for the past few months – babysit Soldier Boy and keep the bomb from exploding. Which brought you back to this exact moment:

“What the fuck is wrong with you, huh? Seriously!” you snapped, feeling the fury overtaking you. “What the fuck happened in your life to turn you into such a miserable, toxic, overbearing, narcissistic, insufferable piece of shit?!”

“Insufferable?” He scoffed as if your words didn’t affect him, but you could see it was starting to get to him. “You’re the one who’s fucking insufferable, doll. Probably because you haven’t been fucked in a while by a real man.”

Exasperatedly, you gripped your temples. “Oh, it all trickles down to that, doesn’t it?” you deadpanned. “You sound like a fucking broken record, gramps!”

“Oh, you wanna fucking jump on me badly right now, don’t you?” he gritted through his pearly-white teeth, a challenging smirk playing on his plush lips as he leaned closer, his face only inches away from yours now.

“Please, it’s not gonna fucking make me like you more. Your dick’s not a magic eraser,” you bit sharply, your voice low and poisonous. “God knows you fucked your last girlfriend for years, and she still fucking hated you.”

Growling, he bristled, his jaw ticking. Mentioning Crimson Countess always hit a nerve. You knew as much.

“You’re just a drug-addicted loser with daddy issues. Nothing more, nothing less,” you nonetheless continued bitterly. “No one likes you! And believe me, asshole, I fucking hate you!”

As you looked up at him, you could tell he was close to exploding. Kimiko even desperately tugged on your arm to drag you out of the blast zone – not that it would’ve mattered.

“Butcher…”

Hughie’s panicked voice and wide eyes reached the Brit, who finally got out of his chair and slammed the paper on the desk.

“Oy, you two! Fucking stop it!”

And somehow, that had miraculously seemed to work. Soldier Boy managed to snap out of his temper tantrum, his breathing steadying, his smirk reappearing.

His lips twitched as he dipped his head and whispered into your ear, “You’re not fucking worth it.”

His thick fingers trailed up your hips before he grabbed your waist and pushed you closer to his body. You tried to shove him away, but this time he used his full strength on you to keep you caged.

“Get off of me!”

“Butcher!”

“Oy! What did I fucking tell you lot?!”

Kimiko tried to pull you away harder, but that only made Soldier Boy chuckle more.

“I said stop it! Get the fuck off of me!” you yelled louder, and he finally let go with a cunning laugh.

“Alright, you’ve had your bloody fun, mate. Why don’t you take a bit of a time-out now, huh?” It was the most Butcher could do as far as an intervention went. Everyone in the room knew Soldier Boy couldn’t be stopped.

“Fine,” the supe relented with a roll of his green eyes, but then his gaze landed back on you.

You hated to admit that he had gotten to you, but it was hard to deny when your whole body was trembling and tears stung your eyes.

“Fucking Christ on a cross, are you actually gonna fucking cry now?” Soldier Boy snorted condescendingly.

“Fuck you. Leave me alone,” you snapped with what little strength you had left and wiped the burning tears out of your eyes.

“Exactly why I said you’re fucking useless. This is the problem with women. Can’t even take a goddamn joke,” he ranted. The more he got to you, the more pleasure he took out of it. You could see it by the vicious twinkle in his eyes. “You keep talking how everyone hates me, but what about you, huh? You’ve got fucking no one, too. Your own fucking parents didn’t want you, and I don’t see an army of men lining up to take care of you, either.”

“Shut up!”

“Wanna know why? ‘Cause you’re a broken, useless, stupid, weak–“

“Stop it!”

But he didn’t. You couldn’t even hear the words properly anymore as they strung together into one explosion of abuse. Your vision blurred, and the ringing in your ears only got stronger.

“C’mon, fucking show me what you can do! Prove to me you’re not fucking useless! Do it!”

“I said fucking stop it!” you screamed loudly till he fell silent.

And then, poof. You were gone.

Soldier Boy blinked at the suddenly empty space before him. Knitting his brow, he shrugged your disappearance off only a second later and plopped down on the couch with an exhaustive groan.

“Fucking finally… Took her long enough,” he commented dryly and stretched out on the small two-seater, sighing blissfully.

“This isn’t fucking funny,” Hughie threw in, the anxious expression on his face only causing Soldier Boy to roll his eyes once more.

“Relax, squirt, she’ll be back,” the supe quipped, snickering. “Probably.”

“Y/N’s got PTSD, okay? She can’t control it,” Hughie argued, placing his hands on his hips in upset, his gaze scolding. “You know, you’d think you of all people would be a little more sympathetic to that.”

Soldier Boy’s eyes glowered darkly. “What the fuck are you talking about? I don’t have that shit. I told you.”

“You know, kid’s right,” Butcher chimed in, catching the ancient supe’s attention. “I’d be a little more worried if I were you.”

“Why? Not my fucking problem. And like I said, she’ll be fine,” he reiterated with a careless grumble.

“I’m sure you’re right, mate,” Butcher replied with a conniving smirk and a casualness that made the supe wary. “Let’s just hope our little Y/N doesn’t take your advice to heart about the proper use of her abilities. But if I were bloody you, I’d hope old-me watches me back.”

Soldier Boy snorted a laugh of amusement. “Oh, I’d like to see her try,” he replied arrogantly and stretched his spine with a yawn. “Well, anyways, I’m taking my fucking nap now. Just wake me when she gets back. I’m not fucking finished with her yet…”

Hughie and the others hurried around Butcher’s desk, their voices only whispers as not to disturb the grumpy supe, and the Brit knew by the worried looks on his team’s faces that he’d have to deal with this bloody problem now.

“Butcher, what are we gonna do?” Hughie asked, eyes still wide and kind heart surely beating a marathon on his sleeve.

“Yeah, how are we gonna get her back?” Annie agreed, calmer than her boyfriend, questioningly folding her arms and arching a brow.

“Mon dieu, what if she changes the timeline, Butcher? I don’t want to wake up speaking German,” Frenchie threw in.

“And I don’t want fucking slavery back,” MM added.

“Oy, calm down,” Butcher spoke with placating hands. “Y/N’s a smart girl. She knows more about this shite than anyone of you. I’m sure she’ll fucking figure it out.”

“What if she doesn’t, Butcher?” Annie pressed.

“Well, then, let’s hope worst she does is kill the snoring cunt over there.” Butcher smirked devilishly and gestured to Soldier Boy fast asleep on the couch as if he were hoping for that outcome. “God knows I’d be bloody fine with it.”

It took less than a second, a blink of an eye, but you felt it immediately, knew instantly what had happened as gravity itself stretched out its tentacles and wound them around your limbs, tearing and tugging until you ripped at the seams and atoms spilled out of you.

There was a stark drop in temperature – that was the first thing you’d noticed. Goosebumps formed within a beat on the bare skin of your arms, the biting cold making you not only shiver but fear for your life.

Please don’t be the Pleistocene... Death by saber-tooth? No, thank you.

But to your relief, you heard a strange, but familiar set of sounds around you – animated chatter, chiming bells and closing doors, and the occasional low rumble of a car. Your heart was pounding a furious and relentless rhythm in your ribcage as your eyes fluttered open and warily scanned your strange surroundings.

You’d landed on a street, your feet safely planted on a sidewalk. Glistening white snow covered the pavement in a thick veil, the sky a dull gray blanket above. Icicles hung from lampposts with patriotic banners flying in the chill, proclaiming messages to buy war bonds and save scrap metal.

Huh…

Powdered flakes swirled around you as a streetcar clattered past you on a cobbled street, the sound muffled by the snow. Storefronts and shops lined both sides of the road, shoppers bustling by you in coats, hats, and scarves. Your brow furrowed softly at the row of parked, snow-covered cars that looked a tad… old.

Oh no…

You had definitely traveled back a smidge, but luckily not as far as the Middle Ages again. Judging by the moderately busy street, you assumed you were at least still in New York City. A paperboy was shouting loudly further down, but you couldn’t understand him from the distance. The only word that was plastered everywhere was war.

World War I or World War II, maybe?

Wherever – or whenever – you were, you couldn’t get stuck here. Your short-lived fascination with your new environment was then quickly replaced by a rising panic in your throat.

You had to get home somehow.

Squeezing your eyes shut as tightly as you could, you tried to wish yourself back – unfortunately, you didn’t possess your pair of ruby slippers anymore that you could simply click. The more you tried and failed, the more anxious you became, and you knew a full-on panic attack was just waiting for you around the corner.

“Whoa! Hey, careful…”

With your hands on your knees, you bumped backwards into a man, your lungs constricting so much they barely let any air pass. You spun around, eyes wide and body trembling as a set of hands landed gently on your shoulders and waist for support.

“Miss? Are you alright?”

What little breath you had got caught in your throat as you stared into an all-too familiar set of outlandishly green eyes.

Soldier Boy.

“Don’t fucking touch me!”

It was a reflex at this point to slap his hands away and keep them as far from your body as possible. Of course the guy couldn’t leave you alone in any era.

Admittedly, he was hardly recognizable, though. While he was just as tall as his 21st century counterpart, he wasn’t as broad. Instead of the signature green outfit, he wore a long, black wool coat over a three-piece suit and a checkered flat cap. His hair was maybe an inch shorter, his beard replaced by a clean-shaven face. And while Soldier Boy surely didn’t look a 104, he didn’t look as young as the guy in front of you either. No furious lines from decades of anger management issues decorated his freckle-dusted face yet.

Maybe your reaction was ill-advised, considering the power he wielded. You figured any past version of the supe was even more ruthless than the current one you’d gotten to know. Moreover, you didn’t have the advantage of being spared because you had saved him from an ice box.

To your surprise, however, there was no detection of malice or offense on his features. To the contrary, he seemed strangely taken aback by your aggressive response, his hands swiftly shooting back as if your very skin was made out of scorching coals. They raised in surrender.

Surrender. 

Well, that was new. He had never, ever, ever done that before. Did you land in some alternate timeline where Soldier Boy was a nice guy?

“I-I’m so sorry, miss. Please forgive me… I was just checking if you were okay,” he stammered and forced a reassuring smile, his hands still held high in good faith.

“Just stay away from me. Leave me alone, okay?”

You backed farther away from him, your eyes desperately flickering around for an exit. Your voice jittered in sync with your body before you bolted down the street and sought shelter in a dark and quiet alley.

“Miss! Wait!” he called after you, his hands picking something up in the snow that you’d dropped during your flight. “You’ve lost your–”

His brow furrowed as he twisted the thin, rectangular device in his hand, his thumb wiping bits of melting snowflakes off the sleek, black glass. As he glanced more closely at it, it lit up brightly and vibrated in his hold. He startled at the unexpected tremble, almost dropping it into a pool of mud by his shoes. Fuddled, his gaze lifted down the busy street in search of you.

“What the hell…”

▶️ Chapter 2: Is This the 40s? – APRIL 4

I think his curiosity is piqued lol... What did you think of his 1942 version vs. the, uhm, less nice future dickbag? 👀

Coming Up:

Ready to fend him off, you were surprised to find his grip wasn’t strong by any means. It was barely a brush before he dropped his hand again and looked at you remorsefully.

“I’m sorry! I just-… Please let me help you,” he reiterated with imploring green eyes. “Look, you clearly seem lost. Just tell me where you live, and I can get you home safely, okay? C’mon, you can’t do this to me.” He tried to loosen you up with a charming smile and a puppy dog look. “If you leave like this, I’m going to be up all night, worrying you’ve died of hypothermia out here.”

And my God, he seemed sincere! No wonder he had gotten attention from women like a goddamn bunny in a petting zoo.

Musingly, you then chewed on your lower lip and assessed the man in front of you. The people who strolled by you threw you the occasional weird looks – you’d chosen a bad day to wear a Led Zeppelin t-shirt and ripped jeans.

Admittedly, you could use a little help here. Maybe if you were being careful with the timeline – and him – you could risk it.

🚀 Read up to 4 chapters ahead on Patreon now

Tag List Pt 1.:

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[bodytoflame-ao3]

FIC: i can't hide from you like i hide from myself

Buffy's spent four years trying to forget the revelation that her and Faith are soulmates, whatever that means.

Faith's been tracing a scar that's not hers for months.

(Giles, frankly, is terrified.)

10, 983 words; complete; explicit

Read on Ao3

“Am I being punished, Giles? Am I cursed?”

Giles pushes his glasses up. “No—” He clears his throat, sliding his open book toward her, “quite the opposite, I believe.”

“Giles, please tell me this is a joke.”

“Hardly. The concept of soulmates is long-standing, with myths and accounts dating back thousands of years in plenty of cultures across the world—”

“You know that’s not what I meant!”

He sighs. “There’s many variations on the concept, but one moreso than others: a grave injury dealt to one will leave a mark on the other. It’s, erm, somewhat more well-documented with Slayers, due to the penchant for harm. Still, very rare.”

“Okay, cool, soulmates exist! Big deal! I’m a bit more hung up on the part where you seem to be implying mine is Faith.”

Because there’s no way. Faith is evil, and, well, a girl, more (or less?) importantly.

“Ah, yes… that.”

He’s cleaning his glasses again, and Buffy’s starting to wonder if it’s some weird coping strategy.

“While I’m aware the popular narrative tends to highlight the idea of romantic soulmates, the truth is, it’s often much more complicated than that. A platonic, even spiritual link—”

“Are you just trying to make me feel better?” She asks, crossing her arms.

“No, Buffy. It’s in the book if you’d rather read it for yourself.”

He gestures to the book in front of her — the one she’s been deliberately avoiding looking at.

That would make it too real. Which it definitely isn’t. “I’d rather not.”

“It is quite possible it has something to do with you both being the Slayer. It’s never happened before, so I’m afraid I have no reference.”

“Can we talk about literally anything else now? Like, I don’t know, the rapidly approaching apocalypse?”

“Potential apocalypse,” he clarifies, “hopefully an averted one if all goes well.”

“Hey, look on the bright side. You get to blow stuff up.”

“Perhaps I’d be more excited if it weren’t an institute of learning.”

“Yeah, but this one’s on top of a gateway to hell. I say that makes it even.”

Giles sighs, and shakes his head, hiding his smile and holding back laughter.

The moment passes, and he goes back to his research, while Buffy traces the wood grain of the table, just past the book.

“It’s just, if Faith is my soulmate — and I’m not saying she is — why does she hate me? What, are we like fated enemies?”

“It’s unlikely. The book speaks of a close bond that can reveal deep personal truths. And… are you sure that’s how she feels?”

“Giles,” Buffy says, looking him in the eyes. “If she didn’t before, she does now.”

“And what the future could hold?”

“Probably not a lot. I mean… the way we fought together, yeah, I get it, but… there’s no coming back from almost killing someone.”

“She was trying to harm you. It was self-defense.”

“And you think that’ll make her feel any better about the fact that I stabbed her? If she even wakes up?”

“I can’t claim to understand the mind of a teenage girl, but I do understand these books, Buffy. This is a unique bond, one that can’t be broken by mortal affairs.”

She’s been thinking about what Giles said to her that day since Faith showed up in her living room. Thinking about it, and trying to forget it.

--

“B?” Faith’s voice rings through the empty house from the foyer. Closer; “I know you’re here.”

She’s been thinking it about it since he told her. In a lot of different ways. The whole five stages of grief, really. If the thought of Faith’s lips on her own had ever crossed her mind, she made sure it didn’t show.

Because she so hasn’t spent the last four years thinking about it; pushing the dreams where she kisses Faith into the deepest depths of her mind where no one can find them.

Buffy sighs, calling out: “Go away.”

There’s too many other things to deal with to think about them.

A moment later, she leans against the doorway, arms crossed. “No. We gotta talk.”

She looks as cool and collected as she’s ever been; always an air of ease about her. Like nothing matters. She’s said as much in the past. But that’s just what people say, right?

Buffy has experience with pretending to be fine. “I don’t need any pity, I just want to be alone.”

Maybe she’s just here to laugh in her face. It would be easier for both of them if she was.

“Just wanted to… make sure you were okay. I’d say it’s not safe for a girl to be alone in this town at night, but… abandoned or not, we both know you can hold your own,” She says, smirking. “But… all that… it was fucked up, kicking you out of your own house.”

Buffy sits up, running her fingers through the side of her hair that was on the pillow. “Yeah.”

“And… I’m sorry I didn’t do anything about it. Truth is, I was freaked, y’know, I just got back here, you guys barely trust me, and I didn’t wanna make things worse.”

The tension between them is as strong as ever, and what Faith knows is only half of it. It’s been different for Buffy since that night on the rooftop. Faith might not know it, but Buffy trusts her — while she’s not quite ready to put it in writing… she does. She knows she shouldn’t, but it’s hard not to. There’s been an inexplicable draw between them since they first met.

She wonders if Faith feels it too.

“No, no, I get it, it’s… fine.”

“Yeah, I…” She scratches the back of her neck sheepishly, takes a step into the room, and the entire atmosphere changes. “It’s really not, B. Look, I came back here to try and make at least some things right, and that’s like, the opposite of it.”

“You didn’t kick me out.”

“But I said you needed to cool it, and… I mean, I think you were a little hard on ‘em, but I never would’ve said it if I knew they were gonna—”

“But you didn’t.” A beat. “Why did you come here, Faith?”

“I saw the First,” she admits, “and… I knew he wasn’t real, but it still freaked me out.”

“Yeah. It tends to do that.” Buffy wants to ask her what she saw, but she doesn’t — hopes Faith will offer it up on her own, but doesn’t want to push. They know too many dead people, and Buffy doesn’t know her life before Sunnydale. Though, she’s always wanted to.

“It was the Mayor. Like he hadn’t aged a day— I guess he wasn’t really doin’ that before, either, but… y’know what I mean.” She smiles, just a bit. “It was weird. Like he… it knew everything, and knew how it would make me feel. Why’s this shit gotta be all different? I was fine when it was just big baddies to punch, but I’m out of my element here.”

The more human they are… the harder they are to kill. Not just mentally, the act of killing something so similar to yourself, but because of the way they know how humans work, act, think, feel… They can manipulate you. In her dreams, she fears she’s been playing into what the First wants this whole time.

“This isn’t my kind of thing either,” Buffy says, joking (and somewhat serious), “Hey, maybe you’ll be less reckless than me. Show them things’ve really changed.”

Maybe Faith was right. Maybe she is the good Slayer now. Maybe that’s what the Slayer has to be to beat this thing.

Faith scoffs. “B, I don’t wanna be in charge. I can’t, I'm not good. You gotta come back and talk some sense into them.”

“Yeah, in my experience, not wanting stuff doesn’t usually seem to do much to stop it.” And that’s basically everything in her life since she found out she was the Slayer.

Faith glares at her.

“I don’t know what you want me to say. They want you.”

“They don’t know what I am.”

“To them, you’re a Slayer. You’re who they could be someday.” They don’t see her past. Hell, they don’t know it. But she’s cooler than Buffy, and they’re just looking for some sense of normal. And Faith is… somehow, more normal. On the outside. And they like that idea more than the reality of me.

“I can’t… I don’t know the plan. I barely even know what we’re up against here.”

“God, I wish there was a plan.”

“There’s no plan?”

She shrugs, trying not to show her dread at how absolutely fucked they are. “Not past ‘destroy ancient evil’ and ‘get brunch’ — that was Andrew’s idea.”

“That’s it?”

“…I thought the brunch part sounded pretty good,” she offers — it’s easy to say, not full of dread and darkness, and it’s how they’ve always coped.

“Yeah, if we’re not dead.”

Buffy smiles, and nods toward the space next to her. Faith’s presence has always felt natural, especially when she’s close.

Tentatively, Faith crosses the distance between them, and sits down. “Look, we need you. They do, even if they won’t say it, and I know I do.”

Maybe, somewhere, she knows that — that it’s always been her duty, her responsibility, her mission to take care of the people in her life, even the ones she barely knows. She meant what she said to Faith — these girls could be them someday — and she owes it to her younger self to look out for them. But she also knows what she was like at sixteen — what Faith was like at sixteen, and it might be easy to make that argument at twenty-one, but it’s a lot harder to accept it when your entire world’s been thrown into a tailspin, and all you want is an ounce of control. To not follow the rules for once.

Buffy sees worry fall across Faith’s face when she doesn’t respond. She looks into her eyes, and asks, “Are you mad at me? ‘Cause you sound like you’re mad at me.”

Faith’s gaze on her feels way more overwhelming than it should; huge and brown, brows furrowed. They get her flustered, and she stumbles over the accusation when she answers.

“No! I’m not, I… I’m mad at everything.”

“B, come on… it’s like you’re still walking on eggshells around me. What’s it gonna take? I’m here.”

She’s the only one here. Hell, she exists, when she shouldn’t — or maybe, that’s Buffy. “I know. I know, and I can’t thank you enough—”

“Then how come you don’t flinch when Angel’s around? Hell, even Spike seems to get a pass, and don’t give me the soul bullshit.”

Because I’m afraid if you touch me I won’t be able to stop myself. Even admitting that to herself feels terrifying.

“That’s… different.”

“How come?” She chuckles, “Cause you slept with ‘em?”

Buffy blushes bright red at her suggestion, shaking her head in an attempt to get the intrusive thoughts out — the ones that are currently chaining together the words ‘sleeping with Faith’ — “No!”

“So level with me, okay?” Faith asks, entirely serious, all traces of teasing gone from her voice. “What’s different? ‘Cause me and Angel, we’ve done a lot of things we regret. To you in particular. And I would’ve hated to admit it even a year ago, but we’re a lot more alike than I thought. Look, I’ve been trying to do good. I wanna keep doing it, but not alone. I said it before, and it’s still true, we’re the same. I don’t wanna just be the chosen one.”

Faith looks… older. Stronger. It shouldn’t surprise her. Older makes sense, and, well, she had a lot of free time to build up more muscle… In her mind, she was still envisioning her as that scared girl. The one who covered up her insecurity with snark and sultry. Until a second ago. And it’s like seeing her for the first time again, beautiful, and strong, and fiery, and passionate. Wanting — wanting more from what her life was before; wanting someone who understood.

But this time, Buffy gets it.

“Chosen Two,” Buffy says, remembering her words.

She nods.

Buffy takes a breath; lifts the hem of her shirt gently. “It’s different because of this.”

Faith’s hand reaches out, the lightest touch of her fingertips touching the scar. Buffy doesn’t flinch; fights the instinct until it fades.

She doesn’t speak for a few seconds. “B, I don’t… where, uh… where’d you get this?”

“You,” she says, simply. Or— “or, well, me.” She still feels guilty; asks, bluntly, “Do you believe in soulmates?”

She scoffs.

“This showed up the day after…” Buffy trails off, entirely unsure how to phrase it.

Faith shifts uncomfortably. “Gee, no wonder they thought you were losin’ it.”

“Faith…” She can feel her retreating.

“Too soon?” she quips, her body language suddenly stiff.

“I know you know.” It’s a bold claim. Buffy doesn’t, not really. She just has a feeling — the way she hesitated before she asked about the scar, the way she’s withdrawing back into herself now.

The way she’s always been one step ahead of what Faith was willing to give.

“It’s whatever, B. No big deal. Bigger shit to deal with than old fairy tales. Let’s get you back home and figure out—”

Buffy cuts her off. That’s the one thing she isn’t willing to do now. “No. I’m not going back there.”

“Alright. Suit yourself,” she sighs, going to stand up—

She can’t go. Buffy grabs her hand. “Stay. Please.”

Faith shakes her head, offering a hard gaze back at her. “It doesn’t mean what you think it means.”

“Why not?” Buffy challenges, pouting. But she doesn’t even know what she’s asking for, what she wants Faith to stay for.

“I don’t do shit like that,” Faith says, blunt.

And maybe that’s true. Buffy’s never done anything like this (whatever it is) either, and still… there’s some part of her that’s drawn to Faith; needs her here. It wasn’t like this when she was gone — far away where Buffy didn’t have to (but did) think about her. Now that she’s close, it’s like everything’s a million times bigger, more connected.

“So you’re saying… what exactly?” Because she thought she knew what Faith wanted — her. That’s what she’s always wanted, right? Why she did everything she did, why she came back?

She pulls her hand away, standing up and wiping her palms on her thighs. “Yeah, we’re connected. But not like that.”

“So, how is it?”

“The whole Slayer thing. No one else like us?”

“I… Giles told me that, when…” When I came to him crying with a scar that wasn’t mine, thinking I killed you. “And I thought he was right. I mean, he’s Giles. Always full of knowledge with the supernatural stuff, but…”

But that was the easy way to think about it. And nothing between them has ever been easy.

“Yeah, he told me too. I mean… when I was you, so… indirectly.” She sighs. “But I did my research.”

So she does know. “And?”

“And that’s it. Pretty obvious what it ain’t, what with how much you hate me. Maybe that’s what we’re destined for.”

Buffy reaches for her hand a second time; pulls back halfway there. “I never hated you.”

Faith doesn’t say anything.

“I felt like I failed you.”

Maybe she should hate her. It seems like the logical thing to do, with everything they’ve done to each other. But she can’t — she’s never been able to, really. Tried, but saying it doesn’t make it true.

“You’re not responsible for me,” Faith says, blunt, putting more space between them.

“No.” Buffy stands, taking the distance back. “No, I shouldn't've been. But I was. And you were young, and hurt, and scared, and so was I, and there’s not a day where I don’t think about all the better ways things could’ve turned out.”

Faith shakes her head. “I needed it.”

“What you needed was a mentor.”

“And I got one. Eventually.” She purses her lips. “Look, me and authority… I wouldn’t’ve listened. Hell, G tried to be that for me, and I didn’t.”

Buffy lets her speak, because she’s afraid that anything she says will ruin… something. What is this, this thing they have? She’s never been able to define it or explain it.

“I read that stupid soulmate page over and over. Probably three times before I got the courage to look down. It felt like… a punishment. And here I thought I wanted to hurt you, but… not like that.”

It felt like a punishment to Buffy. That she’d have to bear this scar for the rest of her life, reminding her of Faith and what she did. She’d always thought it would feel like a relief for Faith — getting the last word in, making her remember. But she looks like she could cry now, and it’s a foreign expression on her face.

“I never wanted to hurt you.”

“I made you.” Faith’s guilt seeps through the bond. That connection’s always been there, if she listened hard enough. Faith… didn’t mean to hurt her either.

“I— can we… can we talk about something else?”

She shakes her head. “B… there’s some shit I gotta say.”

Maybe it’s been long enough. Maybe she can let her say it now.

“I’m sorry. And I know it doesn’t mean much, but I am. None of it was meant to hurt you. I just… I wanted it to be over. I didn’t… want any of it anymore. When you came to L.A… I went there because I knew the only person that would be able to stop it was Angel.”

It feels like Faith’s crawled into her skin again, because she knows exactly what that feeling means, exactly what she’s saying. She wanted to die, and Buffy didn’t even let her — let Angel — explain. What could she even have said? She wouldn’t have understood, not yet, anyways, but now that she’s crawled out of the dirt with her bare hands, she does, too well.

“I know the feeling.”

“…Buffy.”

But Buffy doesn’t want to talk about that. “But you’re here now.”

She wants to know why.

“Of course I am.”

So she asks. “Why?”

“I told you, Willow said—”

“No,” she says, gentle as ever. Not why you’re in Sunnydale. Why you’re here, now. “Tell me the real reason.”

She takes a second to collect herself; steady her breathing before she responds. “You’ve clearly got somethin’ to say, so just say it, B.”

Maybe she can say it — the thing that’s been there, just past the surface, since they were young, when Faith was sixteen, baby-faced and pouty.

“Faith,” she says, biting her lip, and daring to step closer. “Tell me you haven’t always wanted to kiss me.”

“I… what?”

Buffy knows she’s caught her off guard, and to be honest, she hasn’t quite decided why she’s asking now. But she needs to know.

“I am so tired of people not just being honest with me. So just tell me.”

She knows her voice sounds desperate, and she’s half-expecting payback for that punch she pulled yesterday. But Faith just sounds exhausted as she stares her down, mumbles; “…Yeah.”

“Okay.”

“…‘Okay’?”

“I’m… I didn’t think I’d get this far.” Faith scrunches her brows. “I kinda thought you’d start a fight before you… admitted that.”

“You, uh, made a compelling case. Hard to say no.” Her signature snark sneaks back in, smirking as her eyes glance down.

“Oh,” is all Buffy can say as she watches Faith check her out. And it’s not the first time, but it’s the first time it’s put a… feeling in her gut.

“Are you saying… you wanna kiss me?” She hears innocence, hesitation in Faith’s voice, like they’re kids again.

Buffy’s been thinking about it since high school. Never wanting, just… imagining. “I think so,” she admits.

But her thoughts are clouded: with worry that she’ll ruin the semblance of an alliance they’ve built up these past few weeks; worry that if she kisses her, she might not like it; worry that she will.

She shakes her head. “You gotta be sure, B.”

Buffy’s hand traces the curve of her waist with the lightest touch, settling at the top of her hip. “I’m not, but…”

Faith can’t say no to her; runs a thumb along the edge of her jaw, tilts her chin up to meet her eyes. She has those chunky combat boots on that give her another inch over Buffy. “Your move.”

Buffy can feel her nervousness through the bond. It’s comforting — because Buffy’s terrified. She needs a second to breathe, to think. But Faith’s gaze is locked directly at her, unflinching. She really does want to kiss her — that’s a terrifying idea.

And Faith wants to kiss her. She feels that too, so desperately.

So Faith must know, must feel it too. But she doesn’t move. She waits; drops her hand to Buffy’s shoulder, but keeps looking in her eyes.

She shouldn’t want to kiss her. For plenty of reasons; none of them too convincing. She would’ve back in high school, if Faith had made the first move, despite what she’s said before. Something about her… so strong but so vulnerable… made Buffy want to figure out every part of her. If Faith had done something about it… maybe that would’ve included the part of her that was falling for Buffy.

Even now, she wants to pull her apart and figure out everything unspoken between them.

She starts with a tentative lean in, panic in her gut as she feels Faith’s surprised exhale on her lips.

They catch their breath.

Then Buffy kisses her — soft, feather-light, easy. Hands crawl across her back and pull her closer, legs interlocking, deepening the kiss.

Faith’s lips are soft. Softer than she expected. It feels wrong to imagine her any other way now, because how could she be anything else? Her face isn’t rough with stubble against hers, and the arms around her are strong and muscular, but not sharp, and it feels good.

Overwhelmingly so, so she pulls back, unsure.

“B, I—”

Faith doesn’t get another word out before Buffy realizes how much she misses the feeling and kisses her again. A hand finds the back of her neck, and Faith takes control, threading her fingers through her hair and tugging her ponytail free.

Buffy realizes that Faith’s wanted this for a long time. Not just to kiss her, but to be close to someone. She feels it in her desperate grip; the way she gasps when Buffy tangles her own hand in her curls.

And Buffy’s tired of being alone.

Faith’s hands grab her waist, sudden and sharp, pressing their bodies together, hands trailing down the small of her back and down to the roundness of her thighs. Rough hands grab at her flesh, like Faith is trying to pull her apart.

Maybe she wants her to. She spent so long just wanting to feel, and this woman — woman, she’s still processing that fact — the way she holds onto her, the desire behind it, feels better than anything.

She wants Faith. Wants her in the bodily sense, yes (and that’s another part to unpack), but more importantly, wants the connection between them she’s been trying to ignore and repress for years, the one she’s finally starting to let herself feel.

She wants to know what it’ll feel like when Faith comes.

Buffy lets out a quiet, held back moan against her lips (and tries not to, she swears). It’s like every thought she’s spent years repressing about Faith, all at once.

Faith shivers, asks, “God, what did you just think about?”

“I—” her face flushes, hot and red, “Nothing.”

“Whatever it was, it was fucking hot.”

“You… you can feel that?”

An arm wraps around her back, tracing circles. “I’ve felt it for the last three years. Left me running on fumes for hours tryin’ not to touch myself until lights out every time you got some.”

“Oh.” Her face is beet red, and Faith’s completely flipped this around on her, her confidence back in something she knows all too well — antagonizing her with flirting. She can feel Faith’s touch, so strong through her paper thin shirt.

“But if you just thinkin’ about it now…” she grins, and closes her eyes, and Buffy feels warmth pool low in her gut.

The bond’s lit up between them now, stronger than it’s ever been. She’s desperately trying to not think about Faith. Still — “What did you…?”

Faith looks her in the eyes; “Wondering what you taste like.”

Buffy’s silent. She’s fully aware of Faith pressed against her, feeling the rise and fall of her chest every time she breathes. She’s more than aware of Faith’s thigh between hers.

“I can feel you wanna kiss me, B, but what else do you wanna do?”

“I don’t know.” She really doesn’t. Not what she’s supposed to do, let alone what she wants. She doesn’t want Faith to move, so she holds on to her tighter.

“Are you scared?”

“Yeah.” Not of danger; not that Faith might hurt her. She hasn’t been this nervous since she was seventeen, and terrified she’d do something wrong.

“Tell me what feels good.”

“Your hands,” she manages to answer — Faith’s nails trace a line under her shirt and up her spine; fingers firm into her skin, nails trimmed to the quick.

“What else?”

Her eyes dart down, heaving breaths reigniting the contact between them; feels the heat of Faith’s gaze at her black bra, which she knew was on display, but feels so much more so when it’s her. And Faith’s shirt is tight, and so… low cut… and she can’t help but look — because entirely objectively, it’s hot.

She doesn’t look up. “Us. Like this.”

Faith pushes her hair behind her ear. “Yeah?”

Buffy nods, and meets her gaze, just as Faith shifts with a grin, her thigh pressing between her legs. She tries to follow, but Faith stops her with a hand on her chest, fingers resting at the base of her throat.

“You’re so pent up, B. Tell me what you want.”

It’s true, she is. It’s been months. She pulls at the loose black fabric around Faith’s stomach. “Off.”

“Done,” she says, moving her hands out of the way to pull the shirt over her head, quickly meeting her with another searing kiss, teeth gently pulling at Buffy’s bottom lip.

Faith’s hands inch her shirt up, hard pressure on her stomach, and she can’t take it. Her sleeves are long, and constricting, and the thin fabric does nothing to block the feeling of the heat of Faith’s body brushing up against her. She helps her pull it off, gasping as Faith’s hand brushes past her breast.

Buffy’s grasp settles on her belt, running her fingers along the metal ridges just below the small of her back, focusing on the tactile sensation and not the kisses Faith has started to trail down her neck. Her hands run along the studs, around her hips, thumbs stumbling with the buckle. Her hands are shaking. She wants this, she knows Faith wants this.

Faith cups her cheeks, eyes flitting down at her hands.

It’s been years since she’s been with someone she felt this closely connected to. Angel feels like a lifetime ago. And she cares about Spike — for everything that he’s done for her, for her family. Maybe she even loves him. She’s just not in love with him, not right now. Maybe she could be, some day — he has a soul, and a love for her she can’t quite wrap her head around.

But right now, Faith Lehane is looking at her with concern and adoration, heart pounding in her chest. And the now-ness of it all — that wins out.

Buffy wraps her hands underneath Faith’s thighs, pulling her up just long enough that she can turn them around, and drop her onto the bed, climbing up to straddle her hips. She’s the one on top, but it feels like she’s had the wind knocked out of her.

Faith’s stunned, flushed face below her turns her on more than she ever thought possible. If the way she bites her lip as she looks up at Buffy is any indication, it’s doing the same for her. She pauses, breathing slow and steady, hair splayed across her chest and the sheets; takes Buffy’s hand and pulls her down to kiss her again with a smile.

It hits Buffy that the last time she saw Faith smile like this was when she showed up at her house for Christmas. Was she really that blind, or did she just not want to see it? Some part of her had to know, because they’re here, and Faith’s always looked at her like she trusts her with her life, no matter what she decides to do with it.

Faith rolls them to the side, and pulls away, hand lingering on Buffy’s shoulder. “You want this?”

Buffy just nods.

“God, I—” she laughs, voice breaking, like she doesn’t believe her. “I don’t even know what to say.”

She can’t look her in the eyes, not when Faith’s touch is so tender. So she reaches out, brushing her fingers across the scar on Faith’s stomach as it catches her eye, equally delicately. “I’ve seen this every day wondering what it looks like on you.”

It looks exactly like hers, it’s almost eerie.

“You didn’t…?”

“I couldn’t.” It was already too much being reminded of it on her own body. Still, there was this morbid curiosity. “It really is the same.”

Now, it just feels like they’re the same. Just like she always said. And Faith isn’t bitter at her for it anymore (she’s not sure if she ever was).

“I had a thing for you that first night in the Bronze,” Faith breathes, a weight lifted for both of them.

“I know.” Buffy pulls at her hips by her belt buckle, hands finally confident enough to pull it open. Faith is cautious, still kissing her gently, holding back.

Buffy knows what it’s like to hold back. How it’s this pent up fire inside her gut. She pulls the belt from Faith’s jeans — wants to touch her like no one else can — fumbles with the clasp of her bra and wrenches it from her body. She can’t bring her eyes to look, but her hands are far braver, finding the swell of her breast; feeling the goosebumps prickling her skin under her touch. She kisses the edge of her jaw, the pulse point of her neck; drags her teeth across the soft skin.

“Fuck,” Faith whispers, a rasp in her voice.

A hand palms Buffy’s breast, and despite the layers of fabric, she finds her body jumping at the contact. Her hands are small; fingertips digging into the flesh just above her bra. She senses Faith’s hesitation, but she doesn’t want to lose her touch, covering the hand on her chest with her own, keeping her there.

She murmurs into Faith’s neck, “You’re in your head again. I want you.”

Her words must light up something within Faith, because she brings Buffy’s lips to hers again, digging her nails into her cleavage.

“B, take it off,” she manages, between kisses.

She does, and she doesn’t even feel shy about it — especially not when Faith’s immediate response is to bring her hands to one breast, and her lips to another. Buffy threads her fingers through her hair, unsure what else to do with her hands. Even with the lingering questions of ‘oh god am I doing this right’, she silently wishes she figured… whatever this is… out sooner. (And makes a horribly cursed mental note to ask Willow if she’s always been having foreplay this good).

Her open-mouthed ministrations trail up to her neck, fingers on her collarbone, pulling the skin between her lips, intent on leaving a bruise. It’s the right side of her neck — Faith’s lips just barely overlap two jagged puncture marks.. The scar tugs, but the pain fades into the background with the rest of Faith’s attention. Buffy almost wishes the mark would last longer, but it’ll be gone by morning.

Buffy pulls Faith closer, intertwining their legs; she feels Faith’s chest press up against hers, feels the girl shift in her arms as hard peaks brush together. Faith’s toeing a careful line between her own arousal and taking Buffy through this slow. She’s never wanted slow — they’ve never been slow.

Faith rocks into her thigh, grip on her shoulder tightening. Buffy undoes the button of her jeans, reaching for the zipper, but Faith’s hands stop her, pinning her on her back with her arms above her head. “Let me,” she says, panting above her, hair falling down into Buffy’s face. “Please.”

It feels like fighting, and Buffy doesn’t think she’ll ever be able to look at her the same way again, especially not in training.

She nods, meek and silent, watching intently as Faith’s demeanor shifts, trailing a teasing touch down her stomach. “What can I do?”

“Anything,” Buffy answers.

Without missing a beat, she unzips her boots and kicks them to the floor. “Anything, anything?”

“Yeah.”

With the wide opportunity Buffy’s given her… Faith kisses the scar on her stomach. It’s more intimate than any other touch they’ve shared tonight. She doesn’t even give Buffy time to process it: Thumbs play with the button on her striped jeans, and she feels heat settle between her thighs with no immediate explanation.

Faith looks up at her with a soft grin, explains, “I kinda wanna find out, B.”

She remembers Faith’s words, and guides her hands to the zipper, undoing the button herself. “Then get these off.”

Buffy manages to get out of them without too much hassle, breathing rapidly underneath her.

“You’re so fucking hot,” Faith says.

She blushes.

“Do you know how many times I’ve gotten myself off wishing it was you?”

Buffy wants it to be her this time. She wants to touch her even if she’s not quite sure how. She looks so beautiful like this — already knows she looks even better beneath her — wants to see her all strung out in bliss.

But Faith wants her first, she can feel that. And she wants that too. She’s so tense; heat low in her body frustrating to no end — feels it in Faith too, stronger, and wonders how she could want like this, ahead of her own needs. She’s crawling her way down Buffy’s body, kisses on her collarbones, her sternum, her navel.

Thumbs hook under the cotton at her hipbones, hot breaths on her belly as Faith leans in and propositions, “I’ll make you beg, if you can take it.”

She squirms, hips lifting off the bed until she presses up against Faith. “No, please.”

“Close enough.” Faith looks… unbelievably hot, looking up at her with the sweetest and most devilish grin. She pulls the fabric past her knees, leaving Buffy to kick them off.

She looks like she wants to devour her.

“Maybe I do.” Her voice is low and husky, and Buffy can’t even bring herself to be embarrassed that she spoke out loud.

Lips graze the top of her leg, delicate fingertips tracing the curve of her hips. Fingers pull at the inside of her thigh, replaced by soft lips, sucking bruises into thin skin.

If there’s any doubt left in Buffy’s mind, it disappears then. It feels weird, the idea of a woman’s face between her thighs; but it’s never felt like this. She’s been here, before, with men, but now she can feel how turned on Faith is, and it just fuels her even more. Buffy tugs at her hair, not entirely gently, and the laugh that escapes Faith’s lips vibrates through her body.

“Should’ve figured you like it like that,” she says, shifting her attention to her other thigh.

“You do too.”

“No point in hiding it, huh?”

She’s so slow, and so close; winding her up, so calculated and deliberately. Buffy pulls her hair again, insistent. “Please shut up.”

Faith exhales, and pulls her legs apart, one finger a tentative, ghost touch up the seam where her thigh meets her torso.

“Faith,” she says, strained, hips bucking up as Faith lays a hand on her hip bone, pressing her into the mattress.

She’s not quite sure what else she was going to say to her — it all goes out the window when two gentle fingers slide between her lips and feel how absolutely wet she is.

“I can’t believe I did this to you.”

Half of Buffy wants to pull her closer, and the other half wants to find out how long Faith’s willing to let this go on. “I need…”

“You want me inside you, B?”

Buffy’s voice comes out all breathy and high; “Yeah.”

She teases her, silent, fingers dragging their way back down, a lighter touch than before. Buffy watches the smile on Faith’s face as she tries to press harder into her touch. She circles, lips kissing her thighs again; finally, gently presses two fingertips inside her as she pulls Buffy’s thigh between her teeth.

“Faith—”

“I know, Buffy,” she says, breaths slow and heavy, pulling her hand back the most minuscule distance. “I know you want more, ‘cause I feel it in my body.”

Her fingers dip deeper, so slow, and Buffy asks, “Bite me for real?”

Faith doesn’t say a word, but the next stroke of her fingers is accompanied by a sting between Buffy’s thighs. She bites down hard, and god, it’s not about the pain — because Faith can’t hurt her like that — because it feels so good. Buffy always thought it was the danger, or maybe something inherent about a vampire’s bite that made it so pleasurable; but it feels even better now. Faith doesn’t ask questions; doesn’t tease her, just sinks deeper, but Buffy still needs more.

And Faith has to know that — not just from the connection between them — because Buffy’s pulling her, by long dark locks, away from her thighs. She takes the hint.

She pauses, her hand going still, and Buffy can feel her breath, heavy and warm. Before she can speak again — humiliate herself some more and beg — Faith’s tongue is touching her, sweeping up, just shy of where Buffy actually wants her.

She swears under her breath.

Faith’s lips brush her clit, her fingers hooking inside her. She’s soft, and gentle, and all the things Buffy didn't think she could be. “Fuck— Faith, I’m not gonna break.”

“Wanna take care of you,” she mumbles.

She wants Faith to fuck her, but she just whispers back, “Okay.”

Faith pushes deeper, tongue circling and finding a million new ways to drive Buffy to her breaking point. She teases, and kisses, and Buffy can’t take it, but she also doesn’t want her to stop. She wants to know if Faith was always like this in bed, or if she’s taking things so delicately because of their history. If there’s another side to her, she wants to meet that Faith. She wants to touch her like this, make her squirm and beg until she can’t remember her own name. It was almost inevitable; they’ve always been hurtling toward this moment, and Buffy wonders how different things would be if Faith had been confident enough to kiss her before… before everything. She would’ve stolen kisses in the library; danced even closer on the floor of the Bronze; snuck out with her and pinned her to a tombstone. She would’ve stood up for her more.

Her lips capture Buffy’s clit, and Buffy’s fists tighten in her hair, and they both moan. Buffy can’t even find the words to tease her about it — just files it away in the tiny part of her brain not thinking about Faith’s ministrations. No one’s ever gotten her this close this fast — it’s almost embarrassing.

She comes quietly, only letting out a surprised hum when Faith climbs back up her body and kisses her after licking her fingers clean; it feels dirty.

Faith’s as sultry as ever, oozing confidence Buffy didn’t think was possible. Her eyes are full of fire, energy radiating from her stare, soft, but also looking like she wants to go ten more times. Like she worships her. “God, seeing you like this…”

Buffy’s breathing heavily; “I don’t know if I can handle you.”

“No?” she murmurs, caressing the curve of her bare hip.

She shakes her head.

“Me either,” she admits.

Buffy pulls her closer by her belt loops, unzipping her jeans and tugging at the waist. She wants to feel her close.

She knows this body. How it feels, how it moves. And she knows what to expect from a woman’s body… conceptually, but right now, the idea of one beside her own feels so foreign.

They’re both so different now. And still, the same: Faith is the tiniest bit paler, but so is she; less days and more nights. Older; Buffy’s face less round, sharper, and hers softer, eyes wider. Yet Faith’s face still feels as familiar to her as it was back in high school, and she wants to learn the rest of her.

She wrestles with her jeans, skin-tight, pulling them over her hips, learning her curves as she goes. Faith rolls to the side to finish kicking them off, and Buffy’s surprised at how much she misses her presence. When she’s done, she pulls Buffy on top of her, closer than they were before, skin against skin.

Not fully what she expected, her face flushes bright red, and Faith laughs.

God, she’s so fucking frustrating, Buffy thinks, and shuts her up with a kiss. Her lips taste like sex, like her, and it doesn’t feel wrong anymore. There’s no space between them, and Faith’s skin on hers feels like fire. Faith’s hands are wrapped around her back, digging into her, desperately holding on to her.

And Buffy knows what she feels; how desperate she is to keep her there. “Not going anywhere,” she says, lips still brushing hers.

She really wants to touch her now — enough that it pushes past the fear into the forefront of her mind — even if the specifics are still a little hazy. Shifting some weight off her, she kneels beside her without breaking their kiss. Faith's hands follow her, pulling and grabbing, almost frantic; she wants this so badly.

It would be rude not to give it to her, all things considered.

Her hand trails down Faith’s chest, splaying her fingers across her sternum — feeling the heavy rise and fall of her breath, and the stiffness of her muscles, harder than her own. She kisses her neck, reveling in how smooth her skin is, versus how Faith’s fingernails feel as they scrape her back.

Buffy reaches her hip, palm pressing into the bone, and one of Faith’s hands joins her, urging her thumbs under the last piece of fabric on her body. Why does it feel so daunting? Faith’s seen her naked now; touched every inch of her body, left bruises down her thighs that have already started to fade. It should be easy to do the same, and she wants to.

It’s a fight she never expected, purely in her mind, a subject both familiar and unfamiliar. The last time she felt this nervous about sleeping with someone was after Angel. Despite the impossibility, there was that nagging worry it would happen again. It kind of did.

And she knows Faith won’t leave — won’t treat her like a body to be claimed for a night — because she… she’s always felt this way about her. Always wanted Buffy in her bed, even more so, in her arms. Even if she talked a big game, it was different with her. For everything. Buffy knows that now, with the desperate way she kisses her.

So maybe it’s right that they’re connected… however they are. She still isn’t sure if she 100% believes in the whole soulmates deal. What she does know, though, is it’s not just the Slayer line that ties them together.

Faith’s hands are on her neck, her body arcing up into her touch, and Buffy feels her desire as if it’s her own. It’s not — it’s hers, distinctly different — a flush of heat through her whole body. Somehow, she knows, feels exactly how Faith wants to be touched.

She tentatively tugs at the waistband of her underwear, but Faith doesn’t help. She just pulls Buffy from her neck, and tilts her chin up; makes her look at her as she takes them off, nodding her encouragement.

Buffy stares into big brown eyes, watches her focus drop to her lips before darting back up. She’s never seen her this quiet, always full of some sort of snark or innuendo. It’s sweet, and she realizes… that’s what Faith wants this to be. Even if she won’t say it, she wants it to be romantic; soft and slow, no matter how frantic her hands get. And she can work with that. She can give her that.

Her hand slips between Faith’s thighs, pressed together and looking for even the tiniest bit of friction from her own body. She’s been waiting this whole time — patiently, almost.

Buffy can’t look her in the eyes if she’s going to… well, she’s definitely doing this, so she pulls her back into a kiss; bodies closer together — she’s amazed at how well they fit, all soft curves. She’s all pressed up to Faith’s side, knee wedged between her thighs; and her skin is so warm, and her lips are so soft, her kisses so incessant. Faith’s hands are on her face and her back, and they’ve been inside her, and Buffy… she needs to feel it all, for herself.

She starts tentative; Faith’s hips buck into her hand, and she bites Buffy’s lip. The only thing that keeps her on track is the knowledge of how insanely strung up the girl in her arms is. Her breath hitches, gripping Buffy’s shoulder as her fingertips barely touch her.

With even the lightest touch, she still feels how wet she is. It’s exciting, knowing it’s her that’s turned her on this much. She gets braver, dragging a finger through folds of flesh, carefully, slowly. Faith’s response is to kiss her deeper, to let out the softest moan against her lips.

“B,” she says, breathing heavily, “I can’t take much more.”

Having Faith — anyone — this desperate makes her stomach do flips. Especially when, if she focuses, she can feel it for herself.

“Sorry,” she says, feeling the blush creep up her face. She’s trying to rack up the courage not to just tease her for eternity. She circles, far from where Faith wants her, trying to give her something more.

Faith bites her lip, nodding almost imperceptibly. “Please.”

God, it makes her want to melt, and that’s enough. She presses inside her, and it feels so much better than the times she’s touched herself. She can feel every part of Faith’s reaction — the way her muscles tense, how her fingers dig into Buffy’s arm, and her forehead, damp with sweat, rests on her shoulder. Faith doesn’t want her to slow down. And Buffy, well… she likes touching her like this — likes hearing her sharp breaths at every new touch, and feeling her response — likes this woman she’s with. So she doesn’t. She sinks further, until the heel of her palm is pressing into hot skin, and Faith’s immediate response is to say:

“More.”

She’s not asking, and besides, Buffy isn’t interested in saying no. She gives her another finger, and sets a slow pace. Faith’s labored pants are heavy against her, hot and… well hot, as in massively attractive. Her face lights up in a pleasured smile, and it almost sounds like she laughs as Buffy moves faster. She kisses her neck, intent on leaving a mark for at least the night, and Faith encourages her with the softest yes in her ear.

It might be mean, but in her hesitation, she’s noticed how sexy it is to tease her — the power trip; how much it turns Faith on even more to be wanting with no control. Faith’s silently asking for more, but Buffy stills, curling her fingertips, and waits until she actually asks.

Faith speaks up almost immediately, her voice raspy, “Buffy, don’t stop.”

“Ask nice.”

“Please?”

“Good girl,” she whispers, without a second thought, not even sure where the words came from — but Faith seems to like it, because her whole body reacts, shuddering. It’s like lightning through Buffy.

She pulls Buffy’s lips away from her neck and to her own, hips arching further into her touch. Buffy lifts her thumb to attempt to give her more; all awkward angles and fumbling, and it’s not easy. Faith brings her own hand between them, pushes Buffy away frantically.

Weirdly, she feels almost… jealous, because she wants to be the one that makes her come… but she’s also the one with her fingers inside Faith, so she guesses that counts. Her own mind is getting a little hazy, because the closer she brings Faith to the edge, the more she can feel in her own body; waves of pleasure with no source. So she lets her.

When Faith tips over the edge — god, she was right to wonder — it’s like Buffy’s falling with her, completely separate from her own body. Faith’s pleasure feels like a part of her, but she doesn’t feel it in her body. It’s what she imagines a phantom limb might feel like, but good.

Sweat beads on Faith’s forehead. She taps Buffy’s wrist.

Cool air hits her fingers, and she’s so curious about what Faith tastes like, but her body feels frozen.

“B,” Faith whispers, kissing her softly, inbetween deep breaths, “You’re… god, I…”

Her lips follow along lazily, letting Faith lead. She feels so alive — full of fire, like she was before. There was a time where all Buffy saw in her eyes was emptiness. When she pulls away, she sees trust.

“That was…”

“Fucking incredible?”

She nods.

Faith smirks, leaning up on her elbow, takes a gentle hold on Buffy’s wrist and lifts her hand off her thigh.

“You’re such a priss.”

“Not exactly the expert here.”

She rolls her eyes, and all Buffy can do is watch as she takes her fingers into her mouth.

Like it’s nothing; “You’re missing out.”

Buffy blushes.

“Sorry,” she chuckles, a low rumble that Buffy feels in places she shouldn’t, “Fucking cute when you’re all Saint Buffy.”

She’s never seen Faith this happy. She looks at Buffy with this light in her eyes, and holds on to her so tight. It’s hard to imagine why Faith wants her like this after everything they’ve been through.

“You feel it all too? Everything you did to me?”

“Yeah,” Buffy admits.

Faith’s smile falters, and she brushes a piece of hair out of Buffy’s face. “Felt it when you got hurt too. You die a third time?”

“Technically,” she admits.

Her fingers run across the scar on her chest. “Gotta stop doin’ that.”

“I didn’t…” She didn’t notice — didn’t even look. “You too?”

Faith doesn’t answer, just guides her hand to her chest; a mirror image.

She’s in bed with Faith, in a stranger’s bed, and it should feel weird, wrong — but it just feels comforting. They share scars, and pain; powers, and a destiny.

“Hurt like hell,” she says, and Buffy realizes she’s looking at her for confirmation.

She nods. It did.

“I mean it. You matter, B. No matter what they say or do, they care about you. Don’t make with the recklessness.”

There was a time when Buffy thought she might be okay with, or even want to die. It’s been a while — and she doesn’t want to die.

“Goes for you too.”

Faith nods; an acknowledgment.

Buffy knows she thinks everyone hates her. It’s so much more complicated than that. And the only thing that matters is that Buffy wants her to stay — not just because of the connection they have, but because she cares about her. She likes Faith, she always has, because she’s strong, and bold, and she’s got this wit that Buffy was always jealous of. But she isn’t unafraid. She doesn’t ever want to show it, but that’s the thing — even if she doesn’t know why or how, Buffy always has some sort of sense of how she’s feeling.

And she was just a scared teenager. They both were. Now, here they are, years later and still just as scared. There’s something comforting about that, which Buffy thinks might be just a little fucked up, but it doesn’t matter. Maybe it’s the Slayer connection; maybe they’re soulmates. It’s not like she’ll ever be able to tell the difference. The entire world could end in a few days and all she wants is this moment — now, laying in her arms, feeling wanted and understood.

But it can’t last forever. They have responsibilities, and people counting on them — the fate of thousands of girls on the line.

She catches a glimpse of Faith’s chest out of the corner of her eye. “We should… clothes.”

Faith pulls away without a word, sitting up and stretching her arms and shoulders out.

Buffy looks away before her thoughts have a chance to go anywhere else. She leans over the side of the bed; finds her shirt on the floor, and her underwear behind the pillows. Haphazardly, she dresses herself while Faith’s back is turned — she takes the long way around the bed — and pulls her legs up to her chest when she’s done, trying to hide the transparency of her shirt and her lack of bra.

Faith’s hips sway as she wanders over to collect her things from the floor. Buffy’s eyes don’t stray, purely fixated on her figure as she pulls on her underwear. Faith turns around, sees her watching, and smirks, but Buffy doesn’t look away because she’s not ashamed of admiring her. In fact, she’s kind of transfixed by her body. Not that she hasn’t carefully analyzed her own in the mirror — she’s just never looked at a woman like this with such… intrigue. When she looks close, she notices Faith has abs, but they’re soft and rounded into her stomach, contoured but not chiseled.

Faith dresses herself casually, not making a show of it, but deliberately meeting Buffy’s gaze — bra, then shirt, all black fabric. She doesn’t make a snarky comment about Buffy’s blatant ogling.

Instead, she walks back over, and with a hand on Buffy’s knee, gently spins her to sit on the edge of the bed.

“Will you come back with me?” she asks, taking Buffy’s hand, her jeans draped over her other arm — ready to pull her to her feet.

Faith’s looking in her eyes, not at her body, and Buffy knows she’s sincere — but this kind of vulnerability makes her feel more naked.

“I… I don’t know.”

“They put me in charge. Kinda can’t argue with what I decide to do with that,” she chuckles, before her smile disappears. “And I don’t want you alone here. City’s not fucking safe. And we’re safer with you there.”

She purses her lips. They don’t want her there. Her friends don’t want her there. Her sister doesn’t even want her there. But Faith does, beyond all reason.

What’s stopping them from putting someone else in charge if they don’t like her choices? She'd rather have Faith in charge than… Andrew.

But they are her friends. Hell, they’re her family at this point. She can’t just leave them. So maybe tomorrow.

“I’ll think about it,” she offers, hoping it’s enough.

“Yeah,” she nods, dropping her hand. “Sleep on it. ’S all I’m asking.”

“Um, your… socks are over there.” Buffy points to the corner, where one’s managed to land on the lampshade, the other in the middle of the floor.

Faith laughs, “Damn.”

“So… we should probably…”

Talk about… everything.

Something almost tangible’s changed between them now.

It only hits her then: God, I slept with Faith. And I’m kind of okay with that.

“Probably, but… look, if we die by next Tuesday, we never have to talk about it, so… table it ’til then?” Faith jokes, smiling softly.

She can’t be alone now. Not after this.

For whatever reason — fate, or luck, or the meddling of the Powers-That-Be — there’s something connecting them, something deep and strong and tied into their very being. Maybe it’s the Slayer. But maybe it’s not. Maybe it was inevitable they’d fall into bed together eventually, no matter how far down the line.

Buffy shakes her head. “Save the talk for then, but don’t leave me.”

I just need tonight.

Faith nods; lays the rest of her things on the floor, and her bra joins them as she reaches into her shirt to pull it off. She does it without words — without question of what Buffy wants from her — pulls a folded-up blanket from the foot of the bed, climbs across and drapes it over Buffy’s shoulders.

“Hey,” Faith says, sitting cross-legged behind her, leaning her chin on Buffy’s shoulder. “We got this. Chosen Two, right? So let’s just pretend everything’s fine for tonight. Let’s pretend this is normal, and not as fucked up as it is.”

Reaching back, she touches Faith’s knee. “Okay.”

With Faith behind her, she can imagine a younger girl, and her younger self. Eyes closed, she can picture her bedroom and the few times Faith ended up in her bed. Innocent, by all measures. She distinctly remembers one:

Buffy had basically forced them all into a Scooby movie night, with her executive decision to rent 10 Things I Hate About You. Faith made it clear that she hated rom-coms, and thought they were the lowest, most soulless form of entertainment.

After, when Buffy, Willow, and Cordelia were a crying wreck (and she swears she saw a tear or two out of Oz), Faith, unaffected, promised Buffy that one day, she’d show her a ‘real’ movie. Everyone except Buffy and Faith crashed on the couch or floor somewhere during the first 30 minutes of whatever movie they put on next. It was well past two, and even so, Buffy had to convince her to stay (the final selling point being her mom’s mean pancake breakfast). She remembers blushing when Faith slipped under the sheets of her bed in just her underwear and one of Buffy’s t-shirts.

It was the most normal they’d ever been together. Regular teenage girl stuff, for completely normal teenage girls. A week later it all fell apart.

There was at least one more — that time they fell asleep after patching each other up, wounds gone by morning. Maybe there was a third. Buffy can’t remember — but she can imagine it. And if that Faith kissed her shoulder, maybe it could still feel as good and right as it does now. If only she had let herself feel that way.

Faith shifts, and Buffy realizes that she’s laying down.

Made the bed, might as well lie in it.

She turns toward Faith, pulling her legs up onto the bed. Lays down, and drapes the blanket over both of them.

They’re not close, but not far; arms length. Faith takes her hands and pulls her in. “Warm enough?”

There’s no heat in the house. It’s May in California, and somehow, Faith’s radiating warmth. “All good.”

She chuckles. “That was flirting, by the way. You’re always frickin’ cold.”

“Am not!”

“C’mon, who wears a jacket for 60 and sunny?”

“Most of Southern California?”

It’s so good to talk to her like this again. Everything just seems to fall into place. It’s like nothing’s changed since that night they first met, even though they’re entirely different people now. Seeing Faith laugh and smile again, and really mean it… it’s like seeing her for the first time again.

“God, you wouldn’t last a day up north. 60’s when we break out the shorts. If it weren’t for the workplace hazards…”

It’s another reminder of how quick they’ve grown up.

“Ugh, I hate that we’re all practical now — I wouldn’t go slaying in a skirt if you paid me. And I can’t believe I’m saying that. Is this what being a responsible adult is?”

Faith grins, “If it makes you feel any better, I don’t think sex in a stranger’s bed while trying to vanquish an ultimate evil is responsible.”

Her hand runs up and down the curve of her waist, and Buffy doesn’t ever want her to stop.

“Point taken,” Buffy says, ignoring the heat in her face.

“Now, last time we were in the same bed together…” Faith starts, tone turning playful, “You made fun of my underwear.”

Only because I was trying to distract you from my tomato-face. Which I’m kinda trying to do now, too.

She darts back— “And I see nothing’s changed; still boring.”

“Black’s not boring, B, it’s sexy.”

“…You’re hotter without them.”

Why did I say that?

“Didn’t know you could talk like that.”

“I… can’t,” she laughs, unable to keep a straight face. So much for the sexy.

“Fun to watch you try, though.”

And she’s kind of mortified, but it’s also kind of hot, listening to how endearing Faith finds it.

“Brings me way back, y’know. You all awkward and adorable, tryin’ to look tough for me. No way you could’ve known I was putting it on too.”

“You are tough.”

“Not the way I wanted to be.”

Buffy closes her eyes, and tells her a secret: “The night I found out I was the Slayer I cried myself to sleep.”

Faith kisses her, cradling her cheek in her hand. It’s slow, and deep, and stops long before Buffy wants it to.

“Sorry,” she says, hand still on her face.

“I… I didn’t know my emotional trauma got you that hot and bothered.”

“Yeah, you know me, I’m super into the girls with baggage.”

Her words are light and comedic, but her voice is gentle; fingers tucking strands of hair behind her ears.

Buffy sighs. “Y’know… it’s good to just talk, like this.”

Faith nods, letting her hands drop back to the space on the sheets between them. “Almost makes me forget about the whole impending doom.”

“You’re a good… distraction.”

She lets her hand reach out, trailing her fingers down Faith's leg. Her skin dots with goosebumps under her touch, and she can feel the fine baby hairs peppering her thigh.

“Yeah…”

Faith trails off, and Buffy pulls away, worrying she’s said or done something wrong. Everything’s felt so… natural, the way they’ve been talking. She sees a familiar fear in Faith’s eyes, and watches as she plays with her sleeves.

“You don’t have to pretend for my sake. I can handle… I’ve been handling it.”

Faith wants to pull away; hide. She wants to do what she’s always done.

She’s frustrating as all hell.

Buffy treads carefully. “Faith… you know that’s not… I do actually…” Like you. However weird it is to feel. She wishes she could actually put the words together at a time like this, when so much seems to hinge on her being able to spit them out.

Faith sighs silently, and her words are barely spoken; “I can’t give you what you want.”

“You don’t know that.”

Buffy can tell she’s uncomfortable, too vulnerable, face to face like this. But she doesn’t say anything. She just pulls Buffy closer, into the crook of her arm, and wraps her arms around her, over and under.

She doesn’t even know what she wants.

Neither of them has done anything like this before. It feels good. Faith’s endlessly soft; smells like sex, leather, and Buffy’s shampoo. The whole house’s been using her stuff, but it feels more natural on Faith. Like catching the faint scent of a lover on her pillowcase.

“I don’t want this to be it,” Buffy admits, already growing comfortable with the idea of waking up next to her.

If they could just stay in this room, in this bed forever… Because when they leave, everything’s going to change. No matter what either of them say. Even if they don’t speak a word until they find out who lives through this.

Buffy won’t hold her hand in front of the others. Faith probably wouldn’t let her, and Buffy couldn’t even let herself. She wants to, now, before she loses the courage, but it feels too good to be wrapped up in her arms.

“I… I can do tonight,” Faith says, squeezing her shoulder. “But ask me again next Tuesday, yeah?”

She’s not sure if Faith realizes how much that means, coming from her. Telling her that yes, she wants more too, and if they can make it through this fight, she might be able to face that. Buffy can’t even imagine what it’s like for her, to have pined over her for so long, expecting nothing in return — maybe even being too afraid to have someone like her back.

Maybe, by then, Buffy will be ready to do something about it, too. Defeating a great and powerful evil… there’s always been this sense of relief — of a fresh start, of newness and relief and excitement. Maybe, instead of… impulsive wardrobe overhauls, she can do this. God, whatever it ends up being. All she knows is, Faith brings out something entirely innate in her — in both of them — and she’s sick of running from it.

But for now, there’s a girl, and her arms wrapped tight around her, and that’s enough.

“Okay.”

[dannyphantom-justiceleauge]

I'm glad you agree with Dani having wind powers. I have been thinking about the other halfa's and their powers and why they have them. Vlad is fire, which is volatile and hurts others but it can also keep people warm (perhaps there is hope for him in another universe) and is something often used in human invention and Vlad is very smart. Danny is his opposite, Ice. Unlike fire, ice could be used to subdue his enemies without hurting them (1/2)

(2/2) However Ice is also be sharp and dangerous (he can be mean sometimes) and it is cold, which could maybe represent how alone he feels. It could also be tied into his love for space as space is cold. If Jazz was a ghost, I think she would have water powers, since it's like a melted version of her brothers ice (lol). She is cool and collected and prefers to talk things out and understand rather than fight. She can also be rather overbearing sometimes, like an ocean. Sorry if this is long.

~ ~ ~

it’s interesting to think what the various halfa’s elements would be. makes me think of the into the spiderverse au. i like the idea that jazz would be water. it suits her. cool and collected, even sometimes associated with healing. but equally capable of devastation if used for violence. since psychology is her thing, i’d also draw a comparison to that. it’s used to help and heal, but when used by people like spectra it can be the most damaging attack possible. it can destroy people on a level deeper than physical. i’d likewise suggest that jazz would be the one to figure out bloodbending as a concept for this world, but would proceed to avoid using it. if she ever has a dark dan version of herself, i could see Black Jasmine being far more terrifying than him. when jazz goes bad, she’d go really bad

though in terms of what would push her to that point, it think it’d probably be more difficult and less difficult than what happened to danny. she is all about control and discipline. she’d use denial and psychology to manage for as long as possible. that is if it’s something that no one could have predicted or stopped. an accident. but if say it was a failure on the school or societies part... if say a case of bullying landed danny trapped in a locker during a ghost attack, unable to escape, and he died because of an attack that she was involved in. if he died with her not even aware that he was feet from her and in danger...

well i could see her losing herself in her guilt and anger at the world. he could have been saved. if he wasn’t being bullied, if the teachers had done something, if the ghost hadn’t attacked, if she had known he was there. like i said dark jazz is scary.

that aside, i also want all potential halfas to have elements associated with them now. we’re all pretty much agreed that tucker is electric type, due to his love of technology, but also his impulsiveness. electricity can do a lot of damage when not controlled properly and we’ve seen tucker on more than one occasion struggle with control. he’s overconfident and surprisingly reckless at times. when he’s in his element he’s fantastic but he’s been known to abuse power when he has it. i think that would be his main conflict as tucker ghouly, controlling his powers and using them responsibly.

sam would be representative of the element wood. which is associated with flexibility, durability, and strong emotions. because she’s our resident plant girl. she is willful and passionate but also stubborn and demanding. she demands the most of herself but also others, she wants everyone to thrive but sometimes forgets what’s best for her isn’t what’s best for other. her conflict might end up being empathy, because while she has it in spades, she doesn’t always know how to use it, if that makes sense. she tends to take things as a personal attack on her and her veiws when people disagree with her, which can be pretty dangerous, especially when people absolutely have reasons for their own opinions. she needs to learn to listen to others, if she’s going to be a proper hero

that would leave the final element, metal to val. metal is the most stubborn and inflexible of the elements. she’s strong and disciplined, unyielding in her attacks and views. but as we know that’s for better or worse. she really difficult to convince she’s wrong. she’d probably end up being one of the strongest out of them, she’d figure out the most ways to use her powers and how to shape metal to her advantage. i’m actually struck by the fun idea of val using her metal powers to make jewelry and running a small business selling it. this val would still manage to create a body armor and probably be better at maintaining anonymity with her ghost activity. though i also see her as overworking herself. she tries to do everything and ends up failing classes, alienating her friends, and too exhausted to think straight..she became a ghost before she was friends with danny, so i like the idea of them ending up friends, probably during the flour baby episode, and danny being the one to finally convince her to chill out and manage her health better. full human danny, is still all about helping people and is probably more stable and viably smart when he has time to do his homework. he’d probably offer to help her study and manage her business when too busy, and just having someone to lean on means everything to val.

until of course, plasimius kills jack fenton, and danny goes down the path of seeking vengeance and fighting ghosts. i actually don’t thing they’d know each others hunter identities at first, so they’d initially be fighting for real. danny is almost as stubborn as val. (ice is also inflexable until given the time to melt. and cold and harsh and deadly when angry). i see the green hunter being the most dangerous thing val has faced so far because danny is unrelenting. once she figures out who she’s fighting (i see her giving fenton a necklace of a star when he’s human and hunter losing the necklace during a fight and val discovering it and initially thinking it was stolen but figuring out the truth throughout the episode) fighting someone innocent, who’s justified, but still wrong, she’d be forced to learn to be more flexible and understanding, just to convince danny to stop. because let’s be real, she agrees with danny. plasmius killed his father, if she were in his shoes, he’d do the same thing, but she needs him to understand that she’s not the bad guy. not all ghosts are bad.

she’d also need to learn to be more flexible just to fight vlad/plasmius. because he is manipulative and her straight foward way of thinking and fighting would get her in trouble with him. i could see him framing her for a lot. he’d also be hanging around danny as vlad and manipulating danny that way. she’d essentially be fighting 2 different people who turn out to be the same person. vlad, the billionaire friend of the fentons who’s inserting himself into the grieving family’s lives and encouraging danny to fight vigilante justice. and plasmiaus the op ghost who literally murders people who get in his way. vlad would absolutely do everything he can to keep up the facade of innocent human. leaving all the damage to his ghost half. and val would struggle to prove that he’s evil.

that was a bit of a tangent, anyway. all of the halfa’s having elements associated with them and eventually having an ultimate team up in a universe that brings them together to fight something or another. a team up of the elements. vlad being there and joining the team up as still a villain who the team is suspicious of, but who they need to win. perhaps pariah dark escapes again but this time the mech isn’t available. and danny isn’t strong enough to face him alone. so parallel dimension team up. actually maybe not main danny’s universe. maybe it’s one of the other universes that can’t manage pariah dark on their own. possibly val’s again? if jack’s dead they don’t have a mech. might even be able to incorporate maddie inventing parallel-dimensional summoning in her attempts to bring jack back. bonus points if it’s vlad who’s funding this, knowing full well anyone summon would be unstable and turn to goo soon after arriving.

can you tell i love the into the dannyverse au? this was fun - Hestia

@nastyburger @guardianrex @five-rivers @ibelieveinahappilyeverafter @enigmaris

[cherubcow]

“Invincible”, Season 1 (2021) Review

Somehow both very cool and very fucking stupid :D

About Created and written primarily by Robert Kirkman (principle writer for The Walking Dead comic and TV show), this Young Adult cartoon basically synthesizes a number of comic book characters (e.g., Superman, Batman, Green Lantern, Hellboy, Wonder Woman, Gambit) and tries to balance their heroism with cynical twists and dark realities. It's an exercise like Brightburn (2019) in that it mirrors existing comic writing all too closely in order to make violent twists. The cool stuff arrives pretty much immediately. You can tell right away that the physics have some level of realism, and it quickly gets serious because of this. The easy comparison would be to The Boys (also by Amazon, also about violent heroes, and also very well-produced). So, if you like The Boys (2019–), you'll probably like Invincible only a little less.

(( Some spoilers but nothing too specific ))

Wrong Focus But, the stupid stuff comes from the same error that the Kick-Ass movie (2010) made: it focuses on the wrong person(s). In Kick-Ass, the error was focusing on.. well.. "Kick-Ass", an irredeemable loser and waste of screen time. Invincible makes the same mistake, focusing on.. well.. "Invincible", a (so far) irredeemable loser and waste of screen time. So, despite its virtues, this show cannot escape that it made the decision to go for the Young Adult viewing demographic. It reminds me of Alita: Battle Angel (2019) in that way too: some very cool adult concepts ruined by the dramatic devices of unrepentant teenage stupidity and irrelevance. I didn't even like that stuff when I was a teenager, though Jordan Catalano gets a pass.

Main Cast and Characters The supporting characters were also very stupid. The most annoying was definitely Amber Bennett (voiced by the otherwise cool Zazie Beetz from Deadpool 2 (2018) and Joker (2019)), 

who is supposed to be attractive somehow to Mark Grayson ("Invincible", voiced by Steven Yeun, who played Glenn on The Walking Dead) 

despite the fact that she constantly judges him, fails to understand him, often fails to give him any kind of benefit of the doubt, and continues to scowl at him and be hurtful towards him even when she has information that should change her outlook towards him. And because she is part of the love triangle shared between herself, Invincible/Mark, and "Atom Eve"/Samantha (voiced by the awesome Gillian Jacobs from Community (2009–2014)), 

audiences simply have to bear with it that Amber's annoying character will be present and wasting time until Mark can realize that Amber is in fact toxic and that Eve actually understands him and can improve him in more positive directions. That love triangle should have been a 20-minute distraction, but I'm guessing that it will eat up a season or two more, especially if the writers become cowardly and fail to change things for fear of messing up a perceived "winning" formula. In my ideal story line, they would skip ahead 10 years, drop the teen drama, the love triangle, and the stupid jokes and have Invincible and Eve paired in defense of Earth, with the main tension being from their worry that the other would be horribly gored in front of them during lethal fights against cosmic enemies ;)

Aside, I am aware of Amber’s motivation for being a bad person, I just think her justification is not based in understanding, empathy, and a regard for the gravity of Invincible’s situation. In a strict political sense, Invincible should not commit a lie of omission by keeping her in the dark about his identity — even if for the “noble lie” reason of protecting her — but in a real sense, he is a fucking teenager who just developed his super powers. For her to pretend that he should reveal his entire identity to her — a potentially transformative and even dangerous decision — after a few months of teenage romance paints an absurd portrait of her mind. It does, however, align her with Omni-Man, because where Omni-Man forces Invincible to become an adult in the fighting sense (pushing with full force early on), Amber forces Invincible to become an emotional adult by getting him to understand that toxic people such as herself need to be given boundaries — and he needs to learn to clearly delineate and communicate his real desires. By knowing that he does not want Amber, people who regiment his free time, or people who do not suit him, for instance, he can realize why Eve was an obvious decision: Eve understands, can make time when they have time, and will let him find his decisions. Part of a coming-of-age story tends to be realizing what one actually wants, and Invincible’s hesitation in telling Amber his identity shows that he does not truly want her. This separates Invincible from, say, Spider-Man, who avoided telling Mary Jane his identity not because he did not want her but because he wanted at all costs to protect her.

The next most annoying character has to be Debbie Grayson (voiced by TV-cancer Sandra Oh and who luckily was not animated to look like the real Sandra Oh and who should have been voiced instead by Bobby Lee due to Lee's successful MadTV parody of Sandra Oh). 

Debbie basically fills the role of Skyler in Breaking Bad, except that Debbie's character tends to be slightly more understanding before her inevitable and toxic Skyler-resentment and undermining behavior. Despite having an 8-episode arc of change, Debbie's character flips too quickly and lacks the empathy and Omni-Man motive-justifying that would make her interesting (the comic's development may vary). For instance, if she refused to believe that Omni-Man meant his own words, that would make her empathetic and perhaps virtuous even if misled, but instead she dropped their "20 years" of understanding after viewing Omni-Man in action, which makes her appear shallow, easily manipulated, and unsympathetic. That was a definite "Young Adult" genre move because it shows immaturity by the writers to break apart a bond of 20 years so quickly. Mediocre teens might accept such a fissure because their lives have not yet seen or may not comprehend that level of time, but adults know that even long-standing and problematic relationships (which, beyond the lie, Omni-Man's and Debbie's was not shown to be) take a lot of time to break — even with lies exposed.

Omni-Man The biggest show strength for me was of course Omni-Man, who in a success of casting was voiced by J.K. Simmons in a kind of reprisal of Simmons' role as Fletcher from Whiplash (2014). 

The Fletcher/Omni-Man parallel shows through their being incredibly harsh but extremely disciplined and principled, forcing people to become beyond even their own ideal selves (this via Omni-Man's tough-love teaching of Invincible — comically, Omni-Man was actually psychologically easier on Invincible than Fletcher was on Whiplash's Andrew character). Despite the show's attempts to villainize Omni-Man, he, like Fletcher and also like Breaking Bad's Walter White, becomes progressively more awesome, eventually representing a Spartan will, an unconquerable drive, and a realistic and martial understanding of a hero's role.

To the show's credit, while it wrote Omni-Man to be outright genocidal and from a culture of eugenicists (again, Spartan), they could not help but admire him and his "violence" and "naked force" (for a Starship Troopers reference), giving him a path to redemption. That redemption comes in part because — despite the show's attempt to be often realistic and violent — its decision to be directed at young adults via dumb jokes, petty relationship drama, the characters’ reckless lack of anonymity and security in their neighborhood (loudly taking off and landing right at the doorstep), and light indy music also made the portrayed violence far less literal. With a less literal violence, the real statement becomes not that Omni-Man really did kill so many people (though he certainly did kill those people within the show's plot) but that he was symbolically capable of terrible violence but could be reformed for good. That's the shortcoming with putting violence under demographic limitations. If it's a PG-13 Godzilla knocking down cities, the deaths in the many fallen skyscrapers don't matter so much (the audience will even forgive Godzilla for mass death if it happens mostly in removed spectacle), whereas if it's Cormac McCarthy envisioning a very realistic fiction, every death rides the edge of true trauma.

By showing light between the real and the symbolic, it is much easier to identify and agree with Omni-Man. For instance, when Robot (voiced by Zachary Quinto of Heroes and the newer Star Trek movies) 

shows too much empathy for the revealed weakness of "Monster Girl" (voiced by Grey Griffin), the audience may have thought, "Pathetic," even before Omni-Man himself said it. And this because Omni-Man knows that true and powerful enemies (including himself) will not hesitate to use ultra-violence against these avenues of weakness. "Invincible" can make his Spider-Man quips while in lethal battles, but he does so while riding the edge of death — something that Omni-Man has to teach Invincible by riding him to the brink of his own.

Other Cast/Characters and Amazon's Hidden Budget It was impressive how many big-name actors were thrown into this — a true hemorrhage of producer funding. Amazon has so far hidden the budget numbers, perhaps because they don't want people to know that the show (like many of its shows) represents a kind of loss-leader to jump-start its entertainment brand.

Aside from those already mentioned, the show borrows a number of actors from The Walking Dead (WD), including.. • Chad L. Coleman ("Martian Man"; "Tyreese" on WD),

• Khary Payton ("Black Samson"; "Ezekiel" on WD),

• Ross Marquand (several characters; "Aaron" on WD)

• Lauren Cohan ("War Woman"; "Maggie" on WD)

• Michael Cudlitz ("Red Rush"; "Abraham" on WD)

• Lennie James ("Darkwing"; "Morgan" on WD)

• Sonequa Martin-Green ("Green Ghost"; "Sasha" on WD) 

There were also connections to Rick and Morty and Community, not just with Gillian Jacobs but also with... • Justin Roiland ("Doug Cheston"), who voices both Rick and Morty in Rick and Morty,

• Jason Mantzoukas ("Rex"),

• Walton Goggins ("Cecil"),

• Chris Diamantopoulos (several characters),

• Clancy Brown ("Damien Darkblood"),

• Kevin Michael Richardson ("Mauler Twins"), and

• Ryan Ridley (writing)

That's a lot of overlap. They even had Michael Dorn from Star Trek: TNG (1987–1994) (there he played Worf) and Reginald VelJohnson from Family Matters (1989–1998) and Die Hard (1988), and even Mark Hamill. Pretty much everyone in the voice cast was significant and known. Maybe Amazon got a discount for COVID since the actors could all do voice-work from home? ;)

Overall Bad that it was for the Young Adult target demo but good for the infrequent adult themes and ultra-violence. Very high production value and a good watch for those who like dark superhero stories. I have heard that the comic gets progressively darker, which fits for Robert Kirkman, so it will likely be worth keeping up with this show.

[nosunwithoutshadow]

finally posting for day 1 of darklina week! (I have no concept of time)

Rating: M Chapters: 1/1 Words: 2k Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Universe, Fluff and Angst, Character Study, Loneliness, Angst with a Happy Ending, Feels

Summary: It’s the worst kind of cliche, but Aleksander doesn’t realize what he’s missing until it’s gone.

also on ao3

Aleksander misses it. The light. 

He didn’t realize it at first, in those lost few months after he tore the world apart to protect his people. Time stretched oddly then, as he adjusted to his new reality. He felt off balance, constantly teetering on the edge of falling into the abyss he created. The merzost coiled in his soul, making a home in his bones, craving more with each breath. He’d known the magic required a sacrifice before he stepped in front of the dead king’s army, accepted it, but a martyr never knows what they will have to give up to their cause before it’s ripped from them. 

(cont. under the cut)

He only discovers what’s missing later. After emerging from the other side of the void into a new world, one he has shaped, will continue to shape. He gathers what self possession he has left and returns to the capital, presenting himself as a tame housecat for the throne to use at their pleasure, repentant for the misdeeds of his family and content to hunt mice for the reward of a warm hearth and occasional pat. He blunts his fangs, hides his claws, and bats at toys tossed his way for the crown’s amusement, a domesticated predator biding his time. He returns to the tatters of the sanctuary he had begun to build and teaches every Grisha he can save how to sharpen their own claws so when the world comes for them, as it inevitably will, they will be ready. 

And when he has time to think again, when the urge to plunge the entire palace into a darkness they cannot escape has lessened enough that his bones don’t ache with the need, he stands in the courtyard of the Little Palace and breathes. He hasn’t lived without burdens since the day in his long-ago childhood when he realized that he and everyone like him would never be safe. It’s different now though, rather than weighing on him, the darkness drags him down, anchoring him to the earth like it would swallow him at any moment. And when he spreads his arms, exhaling and letting his eyes slip closed for the briefest moment, he feels…

Nothing. 

The days in Ravka are rarely truly warm, but dressed in all black, he’s used to the sun slanting down and soaking into his kefta. He sees the sun overhead, the near cloudless sky, feels a cool breeze rustle the fur at his cuffs, but the warmth he expects to feel doesn’t reach his skin. It’s as if he’s no longer quite part of this world, truly the abomination they call him, shunned even by the sun’s light. 

The small part of him that’s still human wants to strip off his layers in the lost hope that if he can only bare himself to the sun, it’ll be different. As if there’s any way he could ever give enough of himself to buy back what he’s sacrificed. He tilts his face up to the sky and feels nothing but the chill of the afternoon against his cheeks. 

His heart, that traitorous organ, hesitates before resuming its regular beat. He draws a deep breath, collects himself, and continues on his walk. He’d hardly been unaware that there would be a cost to his actions. Out of all the possible consequences, this is far from something that can’t be borne. He will find other ways to keep warm. 

Years pass, nearly too many to count, and yet he numbers every one. The time is counted in the lives he could not save, the indignities thrust upon his Grisha he cannot protect them from. The walls of the Little Palace grow higher, blocking the outside world and its taunting sun. Its light only serves to remind him of what he still can’t do: he can’t control the fold, can’t use it as the weapon he needs to protect his people, can’t stop them from being slaughtered beyond his limited reach, can’t promise them the true security they deserve.

He wears his layers like armor and tries to forget the missing pieces of his soul. He keeps the fireplaces of the Little Palace well stocked to ward off the cold. He nearly forgets what it feels like to have sunlight play across his skin, warming him even through winter’s chill.

But then.

And then.

Oh.

He’s spent centuries planning, but he could never have planned for Alina. Even less for what she would do to him. He touches her, and walls built over hundreds of years fracture, their foundations no longer solid. He sees her power, and he remembers dreams he no longer has any right to. He feels her warmth, and he finds he might give up what’s left of his soul to stay close enough for her heat to burn. 

It’s another small sacrifice to let go of her after that first touch, but he comforts himself with the knowledge that she won’t go far. He’s found her now, and the blinding potential of what that means threatens every ounce of his hard-won restraint. He rediscovers parts of himself he thought long-dead, pushing through dirt and cobwebs like a dormant seed, reaching out towards her sun. 

He will keep her close, there’s no question of that. Losing part of himself was torture enough the first time; he doesn’t know how he could bear it again. He’s endured so much, but not this. And she’s so much more than his scattered missing pieces. She’s life to his emptiness, the rushing river to his steady mountain, the celestial light to his earth-bound darkness. 

If he’d known just how much she was, he’s not sure he would have wanted her, the him before he met her. No blessing as potent as her comes without danger. And she is dangerous, all fire and fury, telling him “no” and crashing headlong into centuries worth of careful plans. Even so, he’s no fool to cast aside such a treasure, if he even could. He’ll hide her in his fortress, its defenses built for this day, and hone her into the weapon she was meant to be. 

It has to be said, his plans usually proceed much more smoothly. 

People are the fatal flaw to any plan, Aleksander knows, and that has never been more true than with Alina. Every time he thinks he’s learned to understand her, she surprises him again. He wants to hate her for that, at first. Even then, he can’t bring himself to, not really. His only consolation is those moments when he’s certain that she feels it too. That he’s not alone in this maddening need. She fills the empty spaces inside of him to overflowing, and even then, it’s still not enough. He’s never thought himself greedy, merely wanting what he’s earned, but for her, he might be. 

Even when their goals finally align, when at last she accepts him as her ally rather than her enemy, it’s still barely enough. It’s consuming, this need, more dangerous than merzost and infinitely more seductive. He can almost forget the hunger clawing at his soul when he’s with her, the warmth of her bathing his skin, sinking deep. She’s so powerful it’s blinding, and yet so unbearably human. A mess of contradictions, his Alina, and he wants to take the time to explore all of them. 

In the early days they don’t have much time for exploration, as one age gives way to another. The first time they bed each other is fast and desperate, fueled by all the times they’ve been denied before. It can’t even properly be called bedding, since they don’t make it farther than the nearest table. They manage to fall into bed together by the third time around, and the sense of completion as he slides into her, their eyes locked on each other, is enough to make all the centuries it took to get there worth it. Anger still simmers between them, and he can’t be certain that she won’t try to kill him before morning, but for this, he might let her. 

In the aftermath, he foolishly thinks that this must be the pinnacle. He holds her to him, reveling in the heat of her body and how perfectly it fits against his. Her light calls to his shadows, even lying quietly together like this, their bodies and spirits tangling into a single whole. 

He doesn’t have the frame of reference then to imagine how anything could be better, but then time stretches before them, and the walls between them slowly crumble. They rebuild and their lives mesh into one another, weaving around each other until they become inseparable. She reminds him of things he’d left behind, and he shows her what could lie ahead. He finds his shadows reaching out to her without realizing, what should be an unforgivable loss of control, but he can’t deny them their other half. He doesn't ask if she feels it too, conditioned by centuries to avoid any hint of weakness.

And he knows that there's no way he can complete her the way she fills the ache in his soul. It's an emptiness that's only grown over those same centuries, widened and deepened into a chasm he could never admit existed. She's his match in every way, but she's only lived a mere couple of decades. He can barely remember being that young, that long ago time when he knew so little about what was to come, what real loneliness meant. 

He clutches her to him at night, without meaning to, his body reacting to his mind’s unspoken fear that she may yet disappear. She lets him, sometimes tucking her body into the contours of his, other times turning in his hold to wrap her arms around him in return. 

They’re laying like this one night, her head against his chest, his nose brushing her hair, both sated and drifting on the edge of sleep. Aleksander idly considers his tasks for the next day, while his sun summoner traces patterns of light over his skin. She draws back, and he relaxes his hold enough to look down at her. Her thoughts are heavier than he expected, some inner struggle creasing her brow. He doesn’t expect the question that follows.

"Did you feel it, before me?" She hesitates, as if searching for the right word. "The… emptiness?"

And he remembers that he didn’t feel that much older than her when he'd opened the Fold, tearing apart the very fabric of the world out of his grief and desperation and fear of losing the people he had left. She may not be able to match the age-worn depth of his feelings, but he shouldn't underestimate the depth of them. The young feel everything so much more fiercely, he remembers. 

His mother had tried to tell him, back then, that what he felt would fade. He'd known she was wrong then, but he knows it with earned certainty now. Age may have dulled the edges of that grief, but to lose it would be to lose a part of himself. Time has given him perspective for those emotions as it held onto their all-consuming breadth. 

One forgot the passion of youth at their own peril. He'd made that mistake with Alina already. So many years, and still so much to learn. 

“Yes,” he answers. It costs him a small sliver of his pride, but the price is well worth it. In his arms, Alina relaxes, losing a small thread of tension he hadn’t realized she held. “I thought it was my burden to bear,” he continues. “I never thought we could have this.”

Her lips curve in the slightest smile. “I didn’t know what I was missing,” she admits. “Until I found you, I thought that’s how it was.”

He tightens his arms around her, pulling her up for a kiss. He takes his time, exploring the lips he’s come to know so well, reminding them both of what they’ve found together. 

“It might’ve been,” he says as they break apart. “But in a world where we met, I could never have stayed apart from you.”

She responds with a blush and a contented sigh as her lips return to his. They lay there together in their bed, passing kisses back and forth for nothing more than the pleasure of sharing them. The night deepens and, eventually, sleep catches up to them.

Alina relaxes in his arms, eyes fluttering closed. His shadows slip across the room and extinguish the last lamp. Comfortable darkness settles over the room while in the bed, Alina wraps Aleksander in her light.

[oxiosa]

This is the ask for you to endlessly rant about the capri AU in case you decide to. I’m dying for that au

LMAO THAT SETTLES THEN TUMBRL RANT IT IS

Ok so the universe is pretty much just a mush of the Cisplatine War (with some historical changes) + some Capri elements I kindly borrowed from Mrs. Pacat. So it is a bit of a mess between historical fiction and fantasy. I’ll start setting some of the fic foundations universe and history wise before I jump into current events, get comfy ‘cause this is gonna get LONG

Martín is the only Heir to the Argentinean Crown. He takes his role as prince quite seriously; he wants to make his father and his country proud. His people love him unconditionally, but it is more a star-struck sense of deep admiration. They see him high up on this unreachable golden pedestal like some sort of knight in a shiny armour with a choir of angels behind him.

Luciano is the Heir to the Brazilian Crown, but unlike Martín he is not an only child. He is the oldest male son, but he has siblings – I only have Angola as his far-more-competent older sister in mind at the moment, but I’m particularly interested in giving him younger siblings (lusofam stans hit askbox pls). Luciano is far more relaxed about his prince role, which makes him far more approachable than Martín. As expected, this makes him very popular among his people, who have a very dear fondness over their young kind handsome prince.

Sebastián is the son of the Duke of Uruguay, so no, he’s not Martín’s brother by blood but actually his cousin. They were raised together and have a very close bond, which is why they think of each other in terms of brothers. Sebas had a bit of rocky life; he spent most of his childhood with Martín, until Brazil occupied Uruguay and he and his family were taken as prisoners by the Empire. Since they were royalty, it was a privileged captivity, it’s not like they threw them into dungeons, they just weren’t allowed to leave the palace or contact Argentina. During those years, Sebastián met Luciano and they became close friends. Eventually Argentina reclaimed Uruguay and Sebastián and his family returned to Buenos Aires.

Daniel is there too, somewhere somehow. I’m not sure what his role would be, but he is Martín and Sebas’ cousin too. He is younger than Tincho and older than Sebas, but since his mother was the late King’s youngest sister, Sebas goes first in line of succession.

Francis is part of French aristocracy, so he’s just there hanging around, assisting parties and charming people, just living the life. He likes to mingle with Royalty of all sort, so he frequents both Argentina’s and Brazil’s courts and has known both Luciano and Martín since they were children. He likes to consider himself some sort of cool uncle to the Crown Princes.

Argentina is a monarchy I very dramatically called the United Provinces of the Kingdom of Argentina because a fancy mouthful of a name really suits us. However, they still have many elements of the structure of a democracy, so it’s less like the old days monarchies and more like a modern era one. Argentina is also a fairly new country, so their monarchy is only a couple of generations long, which makes them a little green to other royalty’s eyes. When Luciano calls them “a shitshow”, he is not entirely wrong, as Argentina is a very young nation with a court filled with people who can’t seem to agree on anything and like to scream at each other. Any resemblance to reality is purely coincidental :)

Brazil is a monarchy too, but it is waaaaaaay older than Argentina. It remounts many generations back, Luciano’s family has been in the throne for centuries. This allows Brazil’s royal family to have a sense of superiority over Argentina’s (as in “we already were kings while you all were a bunch of mongrels fighting each other trying to unify a country”), but it also makes them far more traditional and rigid. It is the old school take on monarchy in contrast with “progressive innovative” Argentina’s.

Slavery is legal in Brazil, and that includes sex slaves. In contrast, Argentina finds the concept of slaves abhorrent and instead prefers the “most civilized” approach of pets (courtesans of either sex who have contracts with wealthy masters/mistresses).

Brazil considers Argentina a pit of treacherous back-stabbing snakes, and Argentina considers Brazil an Empire of backward savages (a la Akielos vs Vere).

The Cisplatine War (Southern/Eastern Bank War in the fic) is also a little different. Argentina and Brazil have been disputing the dukedom of Uruguay for decades. As I already explained with Sebas, the war happened when Argentina marched in and reclaimed Uruguay from Brazil’s rule, which of course led to an armed conflict between the two kingdoms.

During this war, Martín and Luciano had barely turned 18, and Sebastián was 14. Both Martín and Luciano were allowed to participate in the war, both in meetings and in battle, but it was a tightly supervised participation. Both the King and the Emperor wanted to have their Heirs taste war without actually risking them, so they were sent out sporadically and heavily guarded, usually to smaller easier battles or just kept on the tamest combat zones.

The Sebastián incident was something that shook both countries to the core at a national scale, and that is because Argentina and Brazil have very different version of what occurred.

To the Argentinean public, Luciano was a dishonourable sadist who saw a defenceless child caught in the middle of a battle and stroked them down – and not just any child, but one of their princes nevertheless. Martín had to watch his brother fight death and struggle to recover. Luciano irrevocably ruined Sebas’ life, crippled an otherwise healthy boy.

To the Brazilian public, Sebastián’s presence in the battlefield was no mistake but a despicable Argentinean rouse. Why else was he wearing the Crown Prince’s armour? The Argentineans disguised a child like their Prince and sent him into battle in his sake hoping no one would notice, that’s the only conclusion. Sebas was Luciano’s dear friend, so you can imaginae Lu’s pure horror the moment he realised he stabbed his friend. In Luciano’s eyes, Martín was too much of a coward to fight his own battles and sent a child double instead.

At the end of the day, the truth everyone is too angry to hear from Sebas’ very lips is he just wanted to talk to Luciano, see if Lu could convince the Emperor to stop this senseless war. Sebas had tried convincing Martín to talk to his father for months, but Tincho wouldn’t listen, so Sebas slipped into Martin’s armour and rode out. He was caught in the middle of a Brazilian attack by accident, and found the end of Luciano’s sword.

Sebastián almost didn’t survive Luciano’s attack. The injury was really bad, rehabilitation was hard, and it took a heavy toll on his health; one of his legs is mostly useless (he has a slight limp he is very good at hiding and most people don’t know about), and never seemed to recover his physical strength and stamina, so his muscles are rather weak. He holds no grudges over Luciano, and wishes Martín didn’t either.

Hopefully that is enough world building and now I can finally start talking about the fic’s current events :’D

At the moment, Uruguay is part of Argentina, but Brazil has the perfect opportunity to attack and take it back now that the King and Prince of Argentina are gone.

Martín’s father died shortly after Tincho was taken captive. Sebas’ father would be the next in line, but since he died somewhere along the years between the War and current events, this would make Sebastián the new King if it wasn’t because he’s underage - still one year from 21.

The Emperor of Brazil is alive, but very sick. And by sick I mean he is being poisoned. Probably. I’m not sure yet. The Empress consort is alive though, and knows something is up; the Argentinean King’s sudden death, his Heir’s “disappearance” and her husband mysterious illness are extremely suspicious.

UK is the only behind the Argentinean coup. So far I don’t really have much motivation other than “Argentina and UK had a very bad relationship and it would be in the UK’s best interest if Argentina had a new King who hasn’t a prideful hot-headed member of the House of Hernández”. Still a wip as you see.

Remember I said Francis mingles with royalty of all sorts? Well, he has more info on everyone than he knows what to do with, so much dirt on everyone. He heard of the coup while he was back at the Brisith court, and tried to help Martín how he could. The original plan was to murder the Crown Prince as well, but Francis managed to slip in and orchestrate everything behind everyone’s back so Martín would end up as some nameless slave in Rio de Janeiro. Francis has no side really, he just wants the best for his two favourite “nephews”.

Luciano recognised Martín the moment he saw him. Not only did he recognised his face, but also his physical similarity with Sebastián confirmed his identity. The Empress noticed too, and forbid Lu from killing Tincho much to his chagrin. They will follow Francis plan and hide their enemy from the people trying to kill him until they figure what is going on and whom they can trust.

That doesn’t mean Luciano will play fair with his new “toy”. His mother said “no killing”, but she never said “make sure he is comfortable and happy and well cared for”.

Martín doesn’t get Damen’s flogging scars, but he does get something arguably worse (in the long run at least). The first order Luciano gives out concerning his new slave is that as Royal property, he needs to be branded. As painful as it is, it is quick and requires little recovering, but Martín now carries the Imperial Coat of arms seared into his skin and that humiliation burns deeper than flesh.

As the new Crown Prince, Sebastián eventually pays Luciano a visit with the pretext of peace talks to avoid a new war, but mostly because he has his own suspicions. He knows Martín and doesn’t buy that rumour that he run away, something must have happened to him. Luciano listens and doesn’t mention he currently has Martín collared and cuffed as his slave in his very palace. After all, his mother said not to tell anyone and maybe he likes Sebastián better in the throne.

Martín does try to reach Sebastián when he hears Argentina’s new heir is in Rio, but he doesn’t get as much as watch from afar, unable to reach him and let him know he is alive and right here.

I really don’t have much of the plot, but of course they’ll have to work together and learn to trust each other and eventually fall in love, and there would be a lot of tension and denial and eventual tenderness, we all know the drill uvu

[obscuremarvelmuses]

Darkstar headcanons: Laynia dresses in primarily dark cool colors with bright accents in the form of trims, patterns, or accessories. Due to coming from cold Russia, short bottoms aren’t in her wardrobe and most of her sleeves are long. She favors high-necked blousy belted tops with sleek pants and functional but pretty boots. Her long blonde is eternally pushed back. by some sort of headband. Cloth, plastic, wood, plain, pearls, bejeweled, patterned, she has them in near every variety possible and they are her most common accessory. She also owns a large assortment of stylish winter coats, scarves, gloves, and hats. Because, again, Russian. She's not much one for bracelets, preferring brooches and pendants more, typically in oval or starburst shapes. She has a love for black velvet, and it will show up for dressy events in forms such as a rhinestone-dotted envelope handbag or round-toed pumps with ankle straps. Laynia collects small antique music boxes and crystal glass figurines of pretty things like ballerinas and swans. She likes black velvet jewel pillows, black flowers and black butterflies, gemstones (clear, black, or yellow) all sorts of museums (but especially art, astronomy, and natural history) and the sight of pure white snow under the street lamps at night before people can ruin it into dirty slush the next day.  She listens to classical, romantic, disco, pop, and synth music. Laynia likes sweet delicate desserts like rock candy, powder candy, jujubes, marzipan, and bliny or oladyi with varenya style fruit preserves. She dislikes zhurek, tukmachi  and any kind of preserved fish dish (fish should only be served fresh or not at all!) She dislikes being asked about Putin, the Romanovs, etc. Basically, about the only things Americans know about Russian culture. She also dislikes how people don’t know the different between Russian and Belarusian.  Her favorite animals are white weasels/minks (because they're so pretty and cute) and wolves (because they're beautiful too, but also such social animals with strong family dynamics) Laynia likes “slice of life” fictional media, such as domestic drama novels or family-centered sitcom shows. These are fantasies for her, these are escapes from what’s “normal” in her life. For the same reason, she avoids spy thrillers and similar genres, no matter how unrealistic they are in their depictions. She delights in mundane tasks. Likes working in small groups (3-6 people counting herself), dislikes working alone or large groups. She anthropomorphizes the Darkforce, calling it "she" and believing it has feelings or at the very least is capable of pain. What she actually feels when she feels the Darkforce in "pain" is due to simply her mental connection to her own Darkforce constructs that allows her to create, maintain, and manipulate them. When they are attacked, dissipated, or changed against her will, she feels that as pain, and interprets it as the Darkforce being in pain "herself" Though not religious aside from a vague conception of Heaven and its goodness/judgement, Laynia is a strong believer in the supernatural, in particular of ghosts. She is not, however, a fan of them, and would prefer to stay away from anywhere that is rumored to be haunted, had a tragedy occur there, or simply feels creepy to her. Due to her isolated upbringing within a lab, Laynia's social skills are rather lacking. She's extremely polite, but there are so many ways that one can commit a faux pas even with perfect manners, and the nuances of how to navigate complex personal situations escapes her completely. Of course, this applies to plenty of people who WEREN'T raised in a box, so she's really doing marvelously, considering her background. Overall, she comes off as well-bred but clueless, and many assume her to just be a naive rich girl cliche. Her Russian accent also helps with this, making many people attribute her social missteps as merely due to being foreign. Laynia gladly allows them to think this. During times of high emotion or action, Laynia's social niceties deteriorate further, and it's at these times she's at most risk of hurting others emotionally---which, also, is a time they'll most likely be hurt, if their emotions are also running hot. Laynia is more than a little bit of a hypocrite with her morals when it comes to violence and killing in the line of duty. For the most part, she'll always use the minimum force needed to accomplish a task, and will resort to lethal means only when it is truly necessary. At least, until it comes to someone she personally cares about being hurt. For instance, she would probably just teleport a group of bank robbers to jail with her Darkforce powers, leaving them unharmed but contained, even if they shot a hostage. But if they shot her brother? Then they would die. Some people might see this as proof of her devotion to her loved ones, and it is, but it also means that she applies special standards to her own pain and loss over others, and loses her morals when they're actually in a position where it's difficult to uphold them. What's worse, she'll actually be downright irrational in these situations; she'd probably not only kill the person actually responsible for consciously choosing to murder her brother directly, but she'd also likely go after the person who sent them on the assignment. Laynia has precious few people close to her, and her mania at the prospect of having them taken away is something both dangerous and easily exploited. Un-hypocritically, she does understand this in others, seeing it as understandable to commit murder in righteous anger, but not in cold blood. She also understands feelings of isolation, alienation, and being kept apart from others. When she sees someone or something (even an insect) kept prisoner, her instinct and desire is to free it, and she will do so if the being asks, even if it is an enemy. She is far from blindly loyal, and will question her own side should they do things she doesn't agree with, and is also capable of respecting her enemy and even considering them possibly in the right. Despite having been raised to be obedient first and always, she has always had a strong conscience of her own, to the point that she will refuse to work with someone should their methods be too brutal, or reject a loved one if they commit a heinous act. That said, she has trouble openly questioning those in positions of authority over her, specifically those of her own country. She is deeply loyal to Russia, and willing to do things she finds distasteful and wrong if it means saving her homeland, such as kidnapping or pressing someone into service. This same loyalty has made it easy for her government to deceive, manipulate, and just plain strongarm her into serving them in ways she finds wrong. Eventually, she is pushed too far and vows to never again serve the Russian government, but she deeply loves Russia itself and seeks to reform it from within, rather than defecting to the US. She’s basically in an abusive relationship with an entire government/country.  Since her only peers growing up were two boys that grew into very proud and aggressive men, it’s made her a bit sexist, tending to generalize men as always thinking they know best and as always fighting first without question. She believes in battle-forged trust, and will typically consider someone a friend and automatically trustworthy if they fight on the same side together at any point, even if they don’t actually get to know each other at all, and be offended if they don’t think the same of her. Despite her veneer as the softest member of her squad, Laynia is defiant in the face of torture and captivity—-and as kind as she can reasonably be when she is the captor rather than the captive, which has happened more than once when service to her country required her to commit kidnapping. Laynia was raised only to be concerned with the physical well-being of herself and her teammates. It would not be accurate to say that she doesn’t care about the feelings of others, more that she just doesn’t always prioritize them as highly as she should. Because of this, she can frequently ignore or tread on the feelings of others, giving the impression she’s insensitive or mean. Ironically Laynia actually considers herself quite sensitive and emotionally astute, and would be very surprised to learn of such complaints against her. This is because growing up, she WAS considered the emotionally wise one—but only compared to her brother and Ursa Major! Because Laynia was brought up not to complain, she often won’t express that something is bothering her or that someone has offended her. She thinks she’s doing the right thing, but many people would in fact far prefer that she speak up if she’s got a problem. Laynia lacks a lot of basic life skills because they simply weren’t taught to her in the “school” she was raised in. For instance, what outfits are appropriate where, car maintenance, budgeting, cleaning, and cooking. She was taught how to find and prepare food in the Siberian wilderness should she ever be stranded or stationed there, but not how to go to the supermarket and make a normal meal in a normal kitchen. She knows to turn to Google for most of this stuff, she's not stupid, but it can be surprising to some people what she doesn't know, and she often doesn't even know it's something she needs to know until it comes up. Laynia is automatically inclined to trust and obey doctors, professors, and similar people, as well as military personnel. It doesn’t mean she’ll do or believe absolutely anything they say, that depends what it is, but she gives their opinion and approval more weight than she does other people. Laynia has a hard time making big decisions, and an even harder time sticking to them, frequently going back and forth even after she's made her initial choice. Laynia takes criticism from her superiors very personally, but doesn't show it. Crying every time you get reprimanded of course wasn't something you're allowed to do when being trained by the State, so of course she'd never show it, but she would FEEL it because she was taught that her entire purpose was to serve said State, thus her self-worth hinges on it, and a failure hurts that self-worth. This need for approval from authorities means she’ll try to evade blame when something goes awry, and is loath to step out of line. This can make her a snitch, a suck up, and disliked by her peers for it. Laynia does her best to put up a kind and cordial demeanor to all, and retain a polite decorum even when it’s not returned. This is more to avoid making waves in the team than anything else. If there is discord in the ranks, she refuses to ever be the one to blame for it. It’s not that Laynia doesn’t question orders ever. She does. And she does sometimes find her moral conscience at odds with them. The problem is that she seldom acts on these thoughts, instead proceeding with her missions despite her misgivings.

[twilightknight17]

So I fell asleep last night before I could make the post, but I got P5 Scramble yesterday and I’m having a blast so far. ^_^

I’m probably going to go through it the same way I did my Royal playthrough, so if you don’t want to be spoiled, don’t click through on these posts!

Before we start, I just want to mention that I don’t really know anything about the story. Somehow I’ve managed to avoid spoilers for an entire year except for a few small things.

I do know the identity of (who I assume is) Kyoto’s Jail Monarch. (Monarch is kind of a weird, formal word. I think I liked Jail King better. Or... Warden? Warden might have been the best choice.) ANYWAY, I think I know their identity, and by extension, I have a vague idea of why Shadow Joker exists. Other than that... You’re getting speculation and bullshit untainted by later plot revelations. XDDD

I did find it funny that when I booted the game up, I got a “No save data found, unable to start game” message. Like... no shit, PS4, it’s a brand new game. But the little starting tutorial fight was cool, and I liked the opening movie!

The police briefing was...interesting. It’s good to see them actually being somewhat logical? Like... considering everything that happened the year before, it makes sense that they’d assume this is the Thieves again. They have no way of knowing that there’s no way to access Palaces anymore. This isn’t really the Thieves MO, though. Except for the guy who confessed to document tampering. The author shredding his work for no reason and the guy streaking through the criminal justice headquarters don’t seem like they did anything wrong. Those seem more like psychotic breakdowns.

But... I guess we don’t know if the police ever knew anything about Black Mask, or if Shido was convicted on only real-world crimes and not the metaverse hits he ordered. I wonder if that’ll get elaborated on.

Zenkichi’s introduction was him laughing at the streaking guy in the middle of this Serious Police Meeting, so I think I’m gonna like him a lot. ^_^

Anyway, the “higher-ups” really want this case closed, according to “Commissioner Kaburagi”, who I already don’t like. If you’re the police commissioner, Makoto really would be a better choice, holy shit. She’s already prepared to go after Akira, who is the only Thief they know the identity of, so I guess that’s fair. But still. Has he not been falsely accused of enough for a lifetime?

Although... if you’re gonna look up all his life details, can you maybe... share some? Just a few things? Hometown? How are his parents? Anything?

*

Coming back to Leblanc was cute. Got some Trickster’s Maze vibes from the initial text conversation where they were talking about how people kept not responding to texts, but I think it’s all good. Love that the Sayuri is still on the wall, and that Morgana’s been home with Akira.

Naming the app “Emma” is never going to stop being hilarious to me, because reasons.

Y’know, Atlus, this would work a lot better if he could like...respond to their curiosity. At least these dialogue options seem to suggest that talking things out with his parents went well. Even “I missed you” isn’t inherently negative. He’d miss them either way.

.......so when my boyfriend gets back from his soul-searching vacation, he’ll be welcomed back with open arms, right, Ryuji? Right?

Meanwhile, for summer break plans, Yusuke wants to go to Kyoto for a month-long art tour. Unless...

Never change, dear. Never change.

Nice of Sojiro to water my plant and keep my room from drowning in dust, but he really couldn’t have replaced the bedframe with literally anything other than the plastic storage crates? XD The attic looks so empty and lonely without the shelves of trinkets and plushies, and the TV.

So my reaction to this next part was literally, “LAVENZA, IT’S BEEN LESS THAN 24 HOURS”. X’‘‘D Akira really can’t catch a break. But Lavenza’s dialogue sounded actually sad that he was being dragged into this again. And she’s promised repeatedly that she’s going to be there for him. It’s sweet, even though my room is still a prison and she’s still using torture equipment. Iron maidens, Lavenza, really??

I’m a little concerned that Igor’s not around, though. Lavenza did the dream/reality/mind/matter speech instead. Where is he? I know he’s never around for spinoffs but considering my headcanons I’m very curious now. And why didn’t he like... tell Morgana that Lavenza said ruin is coming again? Even if we don’t count thirdsem events, Morgana still knows that he’s Hope, and he still has a bond with the Velvet Room. Talk to your cat damn it.

Oh no, she’s cute and Alice-in-Wonderland themed. I’m doomed.

She called it her “EMMA keyword” and I immediately blurted “what? keyword??” and then everything went directly to Hell immediately. Keyword was the key word, I guess. X’‘‘‘DDD

And you can tell it’s been six months, considering that these nerds got caught almost immediately. And got their hands bound. And got dragged to the throne room and forced to kneel!

...I’m doomed.

Someone at Atlus looked directly at this fandom and all the fanart of the interrogation and said, “Yeah, they’d be into that.” XD Steppy steppy. At least she’s not a rapist like Kamoshida, but jeeze, we keep getting beaten up and thrown in the dungeon by royalty. All we need is a princess and we’ve got a whole royal family!

Although, I suppose the prince didn’t bother with a dungeon. XD

I think it’s interesting that apparently the guards tried to take our Desires and failed. I guess being a persona-user means your mental state is stable enough that something like that can’t manifest.

Oh no, she’s cute. I love her. Another for the collection of Joker’s baby siblings. This is number... 5? She kind of reminds me of Jose, a little. I’ll be interested to see what she is, since she’s got amnesia right now. She can’t be just a straight AI.

But if she’s Yald’s mom, I’m also going to be majorly weirded out.

I really like the gameplay? It’s so interesting to see how the characters move and fight when they’re not limited to turn-based attacks. And I like being able to jump to different points and use them to ambush enemies. I don’t fully understand all of it yet, and it’s hard for me to keep an eye on things like status ailments and my teammates because everything is so chaotic, but I’m sure I’ll get it.

I did die to a miniboss, and when I hit “return to checkpoint”, it gave me the prompt to select a language for the voice acting again. I dunno what was up with that. X’D And I’m baffled by the concept that you can just leave the metaverse and come back and it restores all your health and stuff. No penalty. Time doesn’t pass. You didn’t waste a day. Have the kids finally learned that we are capable of entering and exiting more than once on the same day? Hallelujah.

...this boy is angry that we have to deal with the Jails instead of having a BBQ feast. Never change, Yusuke.

If you go by the crepe shop in Shibuya, Morgana still doesn’t think you’re a crepe person. I’m so tired, Morgana. It’s also a bit weird and forced that Iwai and Takemi are both out of town. We couldn’t have seen at least one of them? I know we’re not gonna be able to use those shops when we’re on the road, but we could worry about that then.

(Disturbingly easy to return a gold bar that you apparently bought off the dark web. Omg. That was hilarious.)

AND THEN YOU GET UP THE NEXT DAY AND ZENKICHI IS JUST IN YOUR HOUSE? SITTING IN THAT CHAIR? That is not the “detective chair”, sir, that is my boyfriend’s chair, and you need to move. At least he likes the curry, but jesus fuck. Sir, I have unresolved trauma of adults coming into my house to snoop into my business. Get out of my house. X’D

You give me a detective sitting in my boyfriend’s chair and then immediately send me to a taping of the same show in the same studio where I first met him. God, P5S, you’re trying to kill me.

Alice clearly knows that giving out the keyword is doing something. She’s being very deliberate about this. But I don’t think she’s actually aware of the Jail. Love that she’s so arrogant that she can’t imagine that Akira just... didn’t use the keyword, and that’s why she can’t control him.

So I guess the Jail Monarchs are called such because they’re imprisoning other people’s shadows in their distortions. So these are people that want control over something to the point that it distorted their worldview. Part of me wants to go off on a ramble about how this relates to Mementos or Apathy Syndrome, but I’ll wait and do that when I have more information. I’ve got some more of the dungeon to do, and I cannot wait to see Alice’s boss fight.

I’m having so much fun. I really missed these kids; they’re grea--

.......I hate these children. X’‘‘‘‘DDDD

[luvreyn]

My Manhwa List (2019) pt. 4

And the list continues ~

The Reason Why Raelina Ended Up at the Duke’s Mansion

Summary:

Poisoned to death by her own betrothed?! Eunha didn’t wake up in a novel’s story just to get killed off again as an unfortunate extra! To change her story she needs a cover… 6 months pretending to be the fake fiancée of the novel's male protagonist, Duke Noah Wynknight. But will this cold-hearted, angel-faced demon of a man really help her avoid another ill-fated ending?!

WHY YOU SHOULD READ:

this is like my second discovered manhwa so it’s very high on my list

plot = 6/5 the plot twists are awesome hail the author

noah freaking wynknight

mc is smart and capable and knows how to use guns she is no damsel in distress my friends

mc knows and uses her knowledge efficiently

adam 

art style - 6/5

the king is awesome

the villain is unexpected bcuz ohmygahd i didnt see that one coming

R A E L I N A

noah being in love 

the reasons and logic are all justified and reasonable

very lovable characters that you would understand

has the right amount of angst/comedy/romance/drama 

facial expressions are on point they are memeable 

in conclusion: read this because this is one of the best manhwa ever like ever i mean who havent read this gem you’re missing out if you havent

My Life as an Internet Novel

Summary:

Every novel has the usual cast: a gorgeous heroine, handsome boys vying for her attention, and a homely best friend at the heroine’s side. Dani, an ordinary student and avid reader of internet novels, is all too familiar with these tropes. But she never imagined that one day she’d wake up at the center of one herself! Her new fictional world is complete with a beautiful best friend named Yeoryung, and four impossibly good-looking boys who all happen to be in her class.  Dani is determined to stay out of the way and not get involved in the twists and turns of the plot. But is she really just the sidekick -- or is Dani actually the leading lady? Anything is possible in the world of a novel!

WHY YOU SHOULD READ:

the mc’s reasons and fears are justified and reasonable 

the characters are all lovable 

plot = 5/5 very diff from iseka-ish stories that just went with the flow of their new life this mc’s reactions are realistic and shouldn’t be invalidated 

art style is decent

yeoryong loving her bff and prioritising her is love

the characters are complex and have their own personality

yeoryeong x dan - i

the bff’s bro is handsome

the male characters are all handsome and cute and understanding

spoiler: they believed in their friend and that’s pure friendship 

their friendship are goals i just want to cry because they didnt invalidate the feelings and fear of the mc 

yeoryeong x eun ji ho

dan - i x chun young

Lady Beast 

Summary:

An arranged marriage that ends in a body swap?! The quiet Princess Elissa has lived a miserable life thus far. To get away from it all she agrees to marry the war tyrant, Duke Ginger of Landall Kingdom. But by some evil curse, the new couple wakes up in each other's bodies! Between royal functions to attend and getting used to their physical changes, can they keep their cool long enough to find a way to switch back? Or will they be stuck like this forever?!

WHY YOU SHOULD READ:

red haired characters are awesome

plot = 4/5 the body switching concept is put nicely and are nicely done 

art style = 4/5 

reactions are funny

ml is husband material

ml teasing the mc 

number question: why are they swapping bodies no one knows

light read so read it you want to just have a good time 

The Contract Concubine

Summary:

As the deadliest assassin in the Seong Empire, Yeseo is stumped by very few jobs that come her way. But when Emperor Ahon hires her to find the spy hiding in his palace, she must also play the part of his new airheaded concubine as a cover. It takes all her patience to keep up her lovey-dovey act with Ahon during the day, and all her smarts to sniff out the enemy at night. If only she could wrap up this job quickly and collect her handsome reward-- but with so many suspicious officials and the tangled web of alliances inside the court, it's hard to tell who the true culprit could be. Can Yeseo catch this mysterious spy before she loses her sanity and blows her own cover?

WHY YOU SHOULD READ:

what can i say, i just love stories that has politics and history

funny and fantastic

A H H O N

it has a lot to offer 

art style = 5/5

plot = 4/5 

i think this has dark themes but surprisingly it’s a light read for me bcuz of the pov of yesuh

who is the traitor who is the spy

the white silver fox dude reminds me of gin ichimaru

ahhon x yesuh

Daughter of the Archmage

Summary:

Mabel’s been mocked her whole life for her nonexistent magical ability, but when she finally meets her true father, it’s the all-powerful archmage, Raquiel! Forced by an imperial pact to let her go long ago, he can now welcome her into his home, with his half-wolf butler, three nymph sisters, a fox halfling, and a kind disciple to watch over her. But dark secrets from his past threaten to catch up with them. Will his magic be enough to protect her? Could she even come into a power all her own?

WHY YOU SHOULD READ:

if you love wmmap, you’re gonna love this

plot = 3.5/5

art style = 4/5

ngl rykell is one of the top candidates for best daddy award

rykell doesnt hate his daughter ok 

sweet and adorable father-daughter moments

maybelle deserves the world

this is a warm and light read if you just want to enjoy reading 

p.s the scanlation team is dropping this because the author said so BUT there’s going to be an official english translation next year (i think jan 2020?) 

a lot of questions that’s going to make you want more

[onthebirdroads]

The Doctor! (if that's too vague, choose your favourite incarnation)

Wow this turned out really long 😂 enjoy! (And watch out for that rant in the middle)

How I feel about them:

Absolutely love them. As a character they've got so many different facets, across different incarnations and within the same incarnation, and that really makes for some interesting storytelling. They can be so kind and caring, but if you go against them they'll turn on you, and sometimes when put under pressure they'll just completely snap and their internal moral compass will go absolutely haywire (see, for example: the "Time Lord Victorious" mode that 10 gets into in The Waters of Mars). That kinda thing always gives me the shivers and I love it. They're also like.. way more "evil" than they'd care to admit, in some incarnations absolutely happy stand by while someone or something else kills their adversary. Again, makes for some really interesting character stuff

Romantic ships:

None whatsoever. The Doctor is 100% aro in every incarnation, imho.

Non-romantic OTP:

I've been really really enjoying the emotionally devastating relationship between 13 and the Master. It's just.. hooooo boy that's the good shit 🍹🍸. The Doctor needs someone who can challenge them in every way, and the only person who can really do that is the Master. And tbh the Doctor is almost as messed up as their best enemy, they're just less directly destructive and sadistic. And I'm really loving Dhawan!Master's style (not just fashion sense but in everything). I've just been like 😱 😭 this whole time and I love it. (Also holy shit LOOMS ARE BASICALLY CANON NOW YALL! That whole story was emotionally devastating and I loved it.)

I also think 7 and Ace make an interesting pair, although most of that comes from 7 being a manipulative piece of shit to her, so not really an OTP... good stories though 😂

Other than that I mean, I really enjoyed the way Donna dealt with 10, and I'd love to maybe see more of Romana, bringing her down-to-earth logical ways to bear on the Doctor. (I looooove Romana II but she probably won't be returning in the TV show, maybe another incarnation?) It would also be cool to see Brax... I bet he's managed to survive all of the numerous apocalypses that have happened on Gallifrey over the centuries. (Again not really an OTP but ehh, it's my post I do what I want.)

Unpopular opinion:

The Doctor is 100% aro in every incarnation. Yes even 10, yes even 13, Th*smin shipping please fuck off.

(Rant incoming 😂 I could put up with the existence of Th*smin shipping if people would at least fucking tag stuff accurately so I can avoid it. Romance repulsion can be really really painful; I literally could not interact with the fandom at all during 13's first series because the shipping was absolutely overwhelming, and all of it was shipping this character whose aromanticism is really fucking close to my heart and very very important to me. Like, this is pretty much the one single heavily aro-coded almost-canon character in any popular franchises, we're grasping for crumbs here and it kills me. And people tagging random stuff as Th*smin for extra exposure really didn't help, cause it meant so much non-ship content was filtered too. Best case never-gonna-happen-widely scenario for this kind of thing—still marginally more probably than people not shipping them with companions in the first place—would be people actually tagging stuff like romance and kissing, as well as any specific ship tags, so that us romance-repulsed aros can safely and comfortably interact with the rest of the fandom. But I'm not gonna hold my breath. Endrant.)

(Oh lmao I forgot River existed for a hot minute there... that was really nice while it lasted.... tbh I generally pretend the whole of series 6 just didn't happen. But yeah River/Doctor is absolutely off the table too, as is romantic Thoschei.)

One thing I wish would happen/had happened in canon:

Some kind of explicit confirmation that the Doctor is essentially non-binary and aromantic, by human standards, throw in ADHD too and I'd probably hurt myself stimming with excitement and joy.

On the NB side of things, a Doctor who uses they pronouns would be nice; that could be addressed by having the TARDIS like, automatically correct the pronouns people use or something, and them being like "??? The words that I just said aren't the words I actually said???" and then some brief explanation involving the translation circuits.

With ADHD, perhaps a companion who's ADHD themself just being like "obviously you're an alien so it doesn't really work the same but damn you're like how ADHD humans are".

And for aro literally just some offhand comment about how they've never really understood the concept of romance and why humans seem so heavily affected by it and attached to it.

[orangeoctopi7]

Is this a destiny?

*insert that one meme here*

@forduary is technically over, but they’re still taking submissions into March. Sorry it’s so late, I’ve been distracted by other fandoms and spiders apparently declared war on me. ***

When Stanford Pines was still young enough to believe his mother was really psychic, she’d often read his palm, or look into her crystal ball for him on days when he came home crying after the mockery of the local bullies got to be too much. She’d tell him that his extra fingers were a sign that he was special, that he was destined for greatness. And he believed her. Even as he got older and learned that his mother’s psychic powers were really just a combination of keen observations, good luck, and showmanship. 

He always hung onto the notion that his abnormality made him special, because the alternative was listening to all the people who said he was just a freak.

As he progressed in school and teachers started to recognize that Ford was a genius, his belief shifted. It was his academic intelligence, not his extra fingers, that made him special. He was destined to change the world with his knowledge, invent or discover things that would make people’s lives better. 

If he was recognized for his intelligence then maybe people would think of him as something other than just a freak.

***

For years, Stanford placed all his value on his academic intelligence. It was the only thing standing between him and freakdom, after all. It wasn’t until he got his first Doctorates and started research that his focus shifted again. Rather than working towards some nebulous concept of “Do something great in the field of science in order to gain recognition and rise above the image of a mere freak”, he was going to learn more about anomalies, and what caused them. He was going to make the world appreciate and respect freaks. 

The going was slow at first, and Ford found himself losing confidence until one fateful day when he went exploring in the caves above Gravity Falls. He almost didn’t read the incantation out loud when he translated the warning, but nothing ever got done in science if you didn’t experiment. And he was soon rewarded for his risk.

Bill gave Ford purpose like he'd never had before. Finally, he knew exactly what his destiny was: to bring humanity into a new era of enlightenment by connecting them with worlds beyond. Finally, people would understand anomalies instead of fearing or ridiculing them.

Stanford Pines was destined to change the world, and for the first time, he knew exactly how he was going to do it.

***

Change the world. It had seemed so clear at the beginning, but in hindsight, Ford saw through Bill's purposely vague words. All this time, he'd thought he would change the world for the better, but no! The destiny Bill had shown him was to destroy the world, not make it better. 

Had this always been his destiny? He thought back on all the people who had been repulsed by him in the past. Had they known? Had they somehow sensed he would bring about the end of the world? Were his fingers some sort of omen or early warning of his eventual fate?

He thought back on all the people who he'd driven away over the years. His brother, his parents, even his best friend. Was that for the best? Had he subconsciously pushed them away so they wouldn't become entangled in his mess?

No! No, he refused to believe this was his destiny! There was no such thing, and he was a fool for believing in it for so long! And if there was no such thing as destiny, then he could still fix this, no matter the cost!

But a small part of him didn't want to let go of that belief. Because if he had no destiny, then he really was just a freak. A freak and fool who'd fallen for a demon's tricks.

***

Out in the multiverse, Ford didn't have a destiny as much as part of him still wanted it. He had a mission: Stop Bill. Kill him, destroy him, whatever it took. 

The researcher refused to give up or die until that mission was completed. After that… well, if he was honest with himself, there probably wasn't going to be an "after that". Best not to think past that point.

This mindset got Ford through circumstances he'd never dreamed he'd be able to survive. But eventually, he found himself in a situation he couldn't power through with sheer determination. Caught in a two-dimensional plane, with no way to communicate with its hostile denizens, and no way out. He was trapped, and they were going to kill him before he'd even learned a single thing about Bill's possible origins.

When Ford blacked out, he was sure he was done-for, his mission incomplete. But he awoke in a strange dimension he’d never seen or even heard of before. A towering, seven-eyed humanoid had saved him and healed him. She called herself Jheselbraum the Unswerving, and she claimed to be an Oracle. Ford was skeptical at first. Look what had happened the last time he’d trusted a strange creature claiming to be his muse. Yet, she already knew his name, and his mission. She’d healed him. Most importantly, she was an enemy of Bill, and any enemy of Bill was an ally in Ford’s book. So, he trusted her to perform a dangerous cranial surgery to protect him from Bill’s control in the future.

Towards the end of his recovery, Jheselbraum told Ford he had the face of the man who was destined to destroy Bill. That small part of him that still wished for a destiny latched onto the information. His resolve in his mission had never wavered, but the latest near-death experience did make him wonder if it was a hopeless cause. Now, he knew he was destined to destroy Bill, and nothing was going to stop him!

***

Stanford had lost, and Bill had won. Now the only thing standing between the king of the Nightmare Realm and the rest of the universe was Gravity Falls��� Law of Weirdness Magnetism. And Ford was the only one standing between Bill and the formula to reverse it. 

Well, “standing” in a metaphorical sense. In reality, he was hanging in chains in Bill’s throne room, awaiting further torture. 

Was this the destiny Jheselbraum had told him about, forever locked in a battle of wills with Bill Cipher, so the universe outside this town could carry on? Or was she as fake a psychic as his mother? Ford wasn’t sure which option he liked better. 

If this was all destined to happen, then all that work he’d done to protect his family was for nothing. Sure, he was stopping Bill from spreading chaos throughout the universe, and he’d continue to keep the formula a secret for the rest of eternity if he had to, but his niece and nephew, his brother, his last friend, and the town he’d grown to love, they were what he’d really wanted to protect, and Bill had taken them all from him.

But if this wasn’t destiny, then everything that was happening was his own fault. He was the one who’d summoned Bill, who’d let the demon into his mind. He was the one who’d built the portal and failed to heed his friend’s warnings about the danger it posed. He was the one who hadn’t listened to his brother and just destroyed the blueprints and any directions on how to operate the thing. He was the one who’d failed to seal the rift, all because he’d entrusted its safety to his nephew, who was just a little boy and never should have been involved in something as horrible as this. He was the one who’d upset his niece by asking her brother to stay there in Gravity Falls, which led to her running off with the rift. He was the one who’d failed to tell her what the rift was or what danger it posed.

His choices. His mistakes. His failure to fix things.

Or no choices. No mistakes. No chance to fix things.

Ford was spared from having to think about it further when Bill and his Henchmaniacs returned from lunch.

***

Jheselbraum had said he had the face of the man who was destined to destroy Bill. Now that Ford stood with the memory gun in hand before his dreaming brother, her odd choice of phrasing suddenly made horrible sense. Part of him wished she’d just spelled it out for him earlier, but he knew if she had, he wouldn’t have believed her.

It wasn’t fair! His brother shouldn’t be the one to pay the price for Ford’s mistakes! Destiny or not, his brother shouldn’t even be involved in this mess! Not for the first time, Ford wished he’d never asked his brother to come to Gravity Falls, but for very different reasons than before. 

But they had no other choice. Not if they wanted to save the kids.

Stanford closed his eyes, unable to watch as he pulled the trigger.

***

A few days later, and the kids are busy packing up their things to return to Piedmont. Ford is back from the hospital, and his brother has recovered most of his memories. The old researcher’s mind wanders once again to his destiny. All these years, he’d avoided thinking about what would happen after his final encounter with Bill. He hadn’t expected to survive. But the final encounter with Bill had gone much differently than he’d thought, and Ford finds himself wondering: now what?

“What’s goin’ on in that big head of yours?” someone asks to his left. Ford turns to see his brother take a seat beside him.

“Just… thinking.” Ford answers slowly.

“Yeah, I guessed that part. It’s kinda what you do. I mean what about, genius.”

Maybe it’s the cool night air. Maybe it’s the relief that they all made it through this ordeal in one piece. Maybe it’s the comfort of knowing that he can talk to his brother again. Whatever the case, Stanford finds himself unloading all his thoughts about destiny, about his failures, and how he always seems to push away the people he cares about, or endanger them, or both.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I don’t blame you for wantin’ to have a destiny. Everybody wants to feel like they’re special, right?”

“Yes, but… but Stanley, if I never had a destiny, if I’m not… not special, then I really am just a freak.” Ford laments. “A freak and a danger to everyone around me.”

“Ford, look at me.” Stan demands. He turns to look at his brother. “You know those aren’t your only two options, right? Bein’ destined for greatness, or bein’ a freak. That’s stupid! Sure, you got more fingers an’ brains than most people’d know what to do with, and sure, a lot of jerks’ll call you a freak for it, but that doesn’t make it true! You're a man tryin' to live his life, same as anyone!

"As for bein' a danger to everyone else, you don't think I feel the same way? You don't think I cursed the day I agreed to watch the kids for the summer the very first moment they got into trouble with all this town's weird nonsense!? You don't think I worry that one of these days somebody from my drifter days is gonna figure out I'm still alive out here, and they'll come and make trouble for the whole town?

"So maybe you pushed away the people who cared about you before. It ain't too late to change that. You got the kids, especially Dipper, he seems to think you're some sorta hero or something. Your old pal McGucket seems to wanna make amends. And I-" Stan pauses, like he's choosing his next words carefully. "I'm just happy to have you back."

Ford doesn't have words to reply. He manages a weak smile, nods, and takes his brother's hand. Stan's words help a bit, but it's hard to shake these feelings, like he'll always be alone. Like he'll always end up hurting the people he cares about. But the longer he sits there in the company of his brother, the more those feelings fade away.

At least now, sitting here with his brother and looking out at the night sky, he has an idea of what he wants to do with his life next.

[in-a-cave-with]

can you make a list of every mavel comic you've ever read (good and bad) i just finished iron man (1998) and i thoroughly loved it with all its best and weird bits

GOOD™

iron man stuff:

tales of suspense (1963) – a classic. 100/10. would read several times

iron man vol 1 (1968) – i’m on, like, issue 20 out of 300 something but it’s also very very good! the drama..the action……..wig

iron man vol 3 (1998) – obv i know youve read this one anon but for anyone out there starting comics this one’s SUPER good, and also Love Is Stored In The Tonyru

iron man vol 4 (2005) – listen this comic. so great, so iconic. maya hansen! epic fights! director stark! good art except for, like, the 6 issues of execute program but execute program is such a good story arc that you wont even notice! 

iron man noir (2010) – INDIANA JONES AU TONY STARK, LITERALLY THE BEST CONCEPT MARVEL’S COME UP WITH. PEAK COMICS IRONFAM

iron man legacy (2010) – i enjoyed this one a lot! i’m kind of confused as to, like, what’s going on but it’s fun

iron man season one (2013) – ok so this is, like, a modern remake of tony’s origin story and it’s..kind of average imo but thats ok! bc you can just look at the very very pretty pictures

iron man fatal frontier (2013) – tony becomes governor of the moon and fights doom! also he takes down an ai with weaponized fanfiction somewhere in there. read this one with a .cbr reader

invincible iron man vol 2 (2015) – gonna maybe fuck around and rec bendis’ entire iron man run bc . the art is gorgeous and the story isn’t the strongest but tony’s characterization is v good 

international iron man (2016) – ok i dont remember what happens in this one but alex maleev’s art is literally god 

invincible iron man vol 3 (2016) – RIRI WILLIAMS!!!! AND ALSO AI TONY STARK (MY SON MY BOY WHOM I LOVE)!!!!

other stuff:

new avengers vol 1 (2005) – as i have said before. new avengers GOT the sauce. stevetony and caroljess on one team was too powerful so marvel had to break em up with civil war . also stop reading this comic when you get to civil war

civil war: casualties of war (2007) and civil war: the confession (2007) – these are both oneshot comics and also the Only Civil War Content You Need To Subject Yourself To

spider-man noir (2010) – a break from the avengers stuff to tell you that this comic is very brutal and also very good

secret invasion (2010) – ok avengers emh did it better™ but this is still very neat! also it’s pretty trippy so its got that going for it too

siege (2010) – i dont understand what’s going on but the art is very good. also the avengers get to beat up norman osborn’s bitch ass

avengers prime (2011) – apparently this is the “stevetony bible” and …honestly there isn’t anything i can say in objection to that

avengers vol 4 (2010) – this comic is SUPER fun. after the fear itself tie ins the art and story get pretty eugh though so be careful

fear itself (2012) – BEST BEST BEST!!! my favorite crossover event in comics, with cool art and a badass storyline

captain marvel vol 4 (2012) – can we get a yeehaw for CAROL DANVERS . hell yeah. this is her first run with the name captain marvel and it’s Very Good

avengers: the enemy within (2014) – captain marvel vol 4 ends on a cliffhanger and the storyline’s capped off here

avengers vol 5 (2013) – ok so *clown noises* i haven’t exactly finished it but…this is the One Was Life The Other Was Death comic and it’s super good from what ive read so far

hawkeye (2013) – matt fraction’s run! everyone and their dog wants you to read it and you absolutely should if you have not. not too sure abt the volume numbering but heres a link to download in TPBs, it’s volumes 1-4

captain marvel vol 5 (2014) – this is the volume featuring chewie (!!) and carol in outer space with the guardians of the galaxy (!!!). super fun in general, would read again

ms marvel (2014) – again i am VERY confused as to what the official issue/volume numbering is, but here’s a list of TPBs that collect pretty much every kamala khan comic pre 2019 (im gonna rec all of them bc kamala is a treasure)

doctor strange vol 3 (2015) – literally everything i want from a comic tbh, also chris bachalo’s art is amazing

marvel 1872 (2015) – no one actually calls this Stevetony Bible 2 but lbr it’s basically Stevetony Bible 2

all-new all-different avengers (2015) – BEST AVENGERS TEAM EVER. EVER. PLEASE BENDIS WHY DID YOU BREAK THIS TEAM UP IM SAD

the unbelievable gwenpool (2016) – oh god oh fuck it’s miss GWEN POOLE . this comic is super funny and also surprisingly heartfelt, plus the art is . mmm.

champions (2016) – the gen z superhero team, i love all of them so much. i can almost forgive marvel for ending anad avengers

hunt for wolverine: adamantium agenda (2018) – so this is, after 11 goddamn years, closure for the first civil war regarding tony and the new avengers that sided with steve. amazing.

the life of captain marvel (2018) – the carol origin retcon is…eh. but it’s still very good! think of it as carol’s international iron man

avengers: back to basics (2018) – kamala goes back in time and accidentally reveals tony’s secret identity and it’s the funniest fucking thing

captain marvel (2019) – the first issue is everyone bullying tony which sucks but DONT LET THAT GET YOU DOWN bc it’s, like, actually good and also tony appears more in later issues without getting bullied

war of realms (2019) – i guess it’s a marvel rule that all crossover comics having to do with asgard are Top Notch? anyway

loki (2019) – AMAZING loki shenanigans and also the REAL reason you needed to read war of realms tbh

ironheart (2019) – gosh i love riri williams so much she’s so GREAT and you should DEFINITELY READ THIS

QUESTIONABLE™:

invincible iron man vol 1 (2008) – matt fraction’s iron man run…it’s ..ok story wise? however the characterization is a lil off at times and the art is HORRIBLE

iron man vol 5 (2013) – ok so this comic is super weird ? because it’s nice that tony spends time out in space but also it confirms that he’s a furry apparently. pretty much the only truly average iron man comic

avengers vol 8 (2018) – okay so i really like the art and the story’s okay but there’s a bit where tony flirts w carol and it’s the most ooc thing ive ever seen and that’s enough to land it in the questionable category

tony stark: iron man (2018) – i debated over whether to put this here or in the Bad™ category BUT valerio schiti’s art is too beautiful and the rhodeytony content fuels me. also issues 12 and 13 (war of realms) written by gail simone are pretty good. unfortunately dan slott wrote the rest and it AINT IT CHIEF

gwenpool strikes back (2019) – it starts off strong in the first issue but goes downhill from there and tbh it’s not really respectful of the previous gwenpool run

magnificent ms marvel (2019) – ok listen i love kamala a lot but if theres gonna be a romance plot between her and bruno it’s the electric chair

BAD. AVOID AT ALL COSTS™

iron man vol 2 (1996) – just. don’t touch this. it’s a hot mess

civil war (2006) – i hate this. so much. it’s unreal. all you need to know is that steve was real close to killing tony in the end but surrendered when he saw that he no longer had the moral high ground. and also steve got assassinated right before he was going to be put on trial

mighty avengers (2007) – this comic had the potential to be SO good. unfortunately the artists for the actual avengers issues don’t respect women at all

superior iron man (2015) – they made tony evil and i could not be more angry with it. who even fucking wants to read this theres not even any emotional payoff for any of this

civil war ii (2016) – i would hit this stupid comic in the knees if i could. there is not a single c*vil w*r with rights. all you need to know is that carol put tony into a coma and it’s super ooc

iron man 2020 (2020) – listen i know this comic hasn’t come out yet but it has all the ingredients to be EVEN WORSE than superior iron man which is saying a lot.

this took way too much effort

[benisasoftboi]

Unorganised Thoughts on Cindered Shadows:

Spoilers! All the spoilers!

Yeah it took me a week to finish it, as always, I’ve been busy

It’s possible that someone will remember that I’ve made a few of these, and that I said I’d be doing Crimson Flower next, but haven’t. I have finished that route. I wrote something up. It ended up being over 8000 words long. I decided no one would want to read 8000 words of me complaining about fantasy politics, and did not post it

If anyone is interested in knowing in detail what I think about any or all of the following: Edelgard (short version: good in concept, but severely let down by the writing), Fodlan’s politics (surprisingly complex! Which is why the main characters’ having such simple and naive politics is so frustrating!), Rhea and the church (she creeps me out), general opinions on minor things (most controversial: I actually like F!Byleth’s outfit) or various shipping opinions/headcanons (I like pretty much any pairing except Dimitri/Anyone, and Linhardt and Caspar with anybody but each other), give me a shout and let me know. I won’t be holding my breath, but like... if you want me to ramble I wouldn’t say no

Anyway! Cindered Shadows!

New characters ranked by how much I like them as characters, most to least: Yuri, Hapi, Constance, Balthus 

Reasoning: I love pretty boys because I am, emotionally, still 12, stoic-type girls are also great and I love her design, she annoyed me a little at first but I thought the sunlight thing was interesting and she eventually grew on me, and I don’t dislike him at all, he’s just the least interesting to me

New characters ranked by how much I like them as units: Balthus, Yuri, Constance, Hapi (ugh, I really like her but she was total deadweight for me)

I’ve always really, really loved the concept of both underground cities and groups of people who have nothing in common aside from being outsiders, bound together by that one shared trait - so I. Love. Abyss. I wish the whole game was set there, it’s so cool

Some really good maps! Actually, let’s review each level:

1: Good intro to the Wolves. Aside from the ‘secret fourth house’ line, which is bad and makes what is otherwise a great concept sound really dumb. But the map itself makes for a very good demonstration of each of the Wolves’s deals. Bit messed up that you kill a bunch of Abyssians and no one really addresses that again, though

2: Even the game comments on the fact that releasing four waves of enemies in a circle gets tiresome. Least favourite

3: Wish the game had been a little clearer of the exact requirements for finishing the map. Also, enough reinforcements to almost be too annoying, but it managed to just avoid that, for me at least

4: This fucking level. I love an escape map in concept, but that goddamn doll at the start. I don’t know how I would have beat it if I hadn’t realised Edelgard can be reclassed out of her armor for better movement (speaking of deadweight units... was the same on Crimson Flower, Lord ranking in terms of actual usefulness in battle is Claude > Dimitri >>> Edelgard, and I say this as someone who normally loves defense-based units in video games). Anyway, despite the fact that it took me like six tries, this was my favourite of the lot - partly because it was so satisfying to finally beat, and partly because, like I say, I just love the concept

5: Breather level, thankfully. Cool to see Metodey again. But... why is he there??? I made Edelgard kill defeat him

6: Starts out really hard and gets easier. Biggest problem for me was the Bolting mages. I found that the trick was to use Ashe’s battalion gambit on Byleth and counter from afar with the Sword of the Creator. Map’s a cinche after they’re gone

7: A really, really cool final boss fight, and really great to just get to fight a big monster without having to slog through hundreds of other enemies as well (two per turn is fine, gives characters like Ashe who are too weak to fight the boss something to do). And there’s no way I could find to cheap it like on Crimson Flower (something I had to do then because of Cyril and his goddamn Murder Axe). Only wish it wasn’t the case that half of the Wolves can basically never touch the boss without being insta-killed. Hapi and Constance should have been able to do more than Phantom Aelfric Clean-Up

It was really nice getting to have all the Lords work together. I had Edelgard and Dimitri do a Gambit Boost and it was weirdly emotional

Am upset that no supports were available. Primarily because this would have been a great opportunity to add some side-story exclusive supports between the Lords. I get why they couldn’t do that in the main game, but I think the lack of any connection between them (besides the mostly one-sided Dimitri->Edelgard) is one of the game’s biggest downfalls, and this could have at least compensated a little

At least we got a few conversations in Abyss

Oh I wonder who the traitor could be, who is it, of the five characters we’ve met it couldn’t possibly be the really generic looking old guy who wasn’t in the trailer oh my god I’m so shocked it WAS him this is an unprecedented twist the likes of which we will never be graced with again

Liked getting some back story and an actual name for Byleth’s mother

I want to know how ‘Noa Fruit’ became a thing. Linhardt alludes to it, but I want that lore. Give me the Fruit Lore, Intsys

Also give me Mysterious Woman lore

I’ve said this before, but Gatekeeper x Abysskeeper OTP

Why can’t Yuri and Linhardt support I want them to bond over being smart bisexual pretty boys with grappler best friends (I have a very long mental list of characters who should have had supports together but don’t) 

Yuri’s make-up is gorgeous. Love that design choice

The ‘Nabatean Chalice’ reminded me - I’ve kind of always wondered if Nabatea is meant to be a call back to Nabata from the Elibe games, or if it’s just coincidence that they sound similar

Will we ever find out anything about the Crest of Ernest or nah? (Fiver says if ever, it’ll be randomly explained in a Forging Bonds in FEH like three years from now. Wouldn’t put it past them) 

So Byleth’s nickname was the ‘Ashen Demon’. And these guys are the ‘Ashen Wolves’. I kind of figured that would come up? Was it a translation thing?

I love how the reasons for each of the Wolves being in Abyss were “I barely escaped execution by the Church for the crime of murder”, “I was experimented on and now have dangerous magical powers”, “I’m the last surviving member of a collapsed noble family” and “I’m in like, so much debt, lol”. Kind of makes me wonder if Leonie ends up down there in some of her endings

Although I hear that there’s actually a little more to Balthus, as revealed by supports. I haven’t seen all of them yet, the only one I’ve looked up was Dimitri and Hapi because those two interacting intrigued me and... I know what I said above, but this might actually be a Dimitri pairing I don’t dislike? What is this???

I’ll watch the rest at some point, but won’t be starting a new 3H playthrough. Rune Factory 4 Special finally comes out next week and the moment my pre-ordered Archival Edition shows up at my door, it’ll be Fire Emblem who? The only dragon I know is Ventuswill, and the only empire I’m worried about is the unfortunately named ‘Sechs Empire’

Although, the fact that Kiel and Caspar have the exact same voice might end up being... hmmm

Eh, I got over Doug and Yosuke Hanamura. It’ll be fine :)

[wolfiefics]

To all the fans of Steve Rogers who persist that Steve was in the right during Civil War, consider this:

Your argument that after the events of Winter Soldier he lost faith in the US government, why did he stay? Why did he not renounce his US citizenship and try elsewhere? He likely had enough ties with another country, either of familial origin or one he helped liberate during WWII, to do so. Why did he stay? Why did he continue being an Avenger? Living by US society rules put in place and maintained by the government he no longer believed in? If you can answer that in a logical way that isn't knee-jerk high-mindedness, I'll concede it.

If he was right to go against the Accords because "they stifled his freedom" then you are advocating the same mindset of the people taking guns into government buildings in an attempt to terrorize officials into not wearing protective gear designed to save the lives of themselves, their family and their fellow citizens AS IS IN THE US CONSTITUTION CHARTER. Or you are the one calling the police on someone for doing something you don't like, lying about it to make it wrong when that person was doing nothing wrong to begin with? You just didn't like them for some reason, they have to go away. FREEDOM is not a gift. It's not a thing that everyone has. EVER. Not even in the US at the time of the American Revolution. Freedom is a CONCEPT, an ideal to reach for. A utopian dream. The very nature of human civilization NEGATES freedom by its very existence. You want "freedom"? I can rob, rape, murder, enslave, and destroy everything I want to because I'm FREE to do so! No one can tell me what to do! You're the victim? Not my problem! Maybe you should be bigger, meaner, carry a bigger weapon or have more people in your side. FREEDOM is ANARCHY, lawlessness, and disrespecting others wants and needs for whatever you want to have withoutrestrictionsof moral conscience instilled by society (i.e. laws and government).

Society, civilization, has rules for a reason. So that shit DOESN'T happen. You don't follow the rules? You're a criminal. Since the Law Codes of Hammurabi its been this way (before that, those are just the first known written laws). Rules can be amended, recodified, or completely rewritten as your society and culture expands intellectually, technologically or in accordance of getting along with another culture different from yours. They aren't concrete (I was going to say "written in stone but some actually were...aforementioned Hammurabi law codes for example).

But to argue that Steve Rogers was right to IGNORE the rules and laws and do whatever he wanted because he was "betrayed" by the government is ignorant, elitist bullshit. He had NO RIGHT to do that. Attempt to dissuade, argue down or compromise, yes, definitely. But give it the middle finger and stomp off in a snit and do whatever HE thinks is right? He's no longer a law-abiding citizen who has EARNED the rights of his society. He has turned his back on them. I'm not saying the Accords were right (though they had a strong argument for it) but everyone tried to tell him "do this now, we'll wiggle it around til it's more acceptable. If not, they are going to ram it down our throats or throw us in a dark dank corner and forget we're there". But noooo! Steve was too good for that! The petty concerns of almost the entire world is not his problem! HE knows better than ANYONE what's right and what's wrong! Fuck them! He was not interested in compromise, trying to work a deal, nothing. He saw it as oppression and done! And that's how all of you who say he's in the right feel too. 112 out of 128 countries have no RIGHT to feel threatened! What's their problem anyway? It’s not like the Avengers destroyed an entire country! Oh wait.. well it's just some backwater Eastern bloc country, no big loss. And part of South Africa. And an entire floor of visiting humanitarian and diplomat workers. No big deal. The UN should just suck it up. Steve knows what he's doing.

All governments have laws a person doesn't like. Nature of the beast. You might get away with bending it on occasion, depending what it is. But if your actions breaking it means ending the lives of others or compromising/destroying their property or culture because "I'm right, you're wrong"? Bigotry. Elitism. Holier than thou. Entire civilizations have vanished for that and we know little to nothing about them because that attitude meant no one cared to note it. Those civilizations could have cures for, I don't know, CANCER!!? (Medicine Man with Sean Connery is awesome. You should watch it).

The first rule EVERY writer learns when writing about sentient beings is there are good things and there are FLAWS. There is no such thing as perfect. If you have a perfect person who can do no wrong, makes no mistakes, just rolls through life getting everything they want without effort...why would you want that? It's boring. It's unrealistic. Why is this persistent idea that everything Steve does is right and just and morally incorruptible? Sounds like some asshole that needs a bullet in the brain before he decides to kill ME for getting in his way. Most of you don't write him in your own fics that way. Why on EARTH do you think he's perfect in the movie verse? Is he not fictional? Is he not a character in a story? Is he somehow exempt in the movies of all writing conventions?

Civil War is easily the worst of the MCU movies. The potholes are so large you can hyper drive the Deathstar through them. Too many to go into here. That's a whole nother rant. But this movie is the basis of this fan idea that Steve can do no wrong and anyone who opposed or argued with him are immoral, arrogant and oppressive...or government doormats. REALLY?! It's obvious Steve trusts NO ONE. Not Sam, whose life he continually puts in danger with very little remorse. Nat, who has been at his side since two weeks after he woke in the 21st century, fought aliens, was on an elite task force with (two in fact), etc ad nauseum but since she DARED to disagree with him, she's obviously not to be trusted. And he was hyper focused on two things:Bucky and Peggy. Peggy, he moped and brooded over, punishing himself for a trick of Fate. FOR YEARS. And Bucky, who was such an obvious distraction that Hydra knew it was a HUGE weak spot and CONTINUALLY used it against him at the expense of other people's lives that Steve apparently didn't give two shits about or even attempted to modify that weakness. How many legitimate, under cover S.H.I.E.L.D. agents were exposed world-wide when Nat laid bare every record of S.H.I.E.L.D.? Not even a flicker of remorse from Steve. Made this big patriotic speech to the Triskellian but not one single mention at all in the planning of those people. None. Cannon fodder. So sad, too bad, ah well! Gotta save Bucky!! Same in Civil War. Steve headed that op in Africa. He ordered and helped gather the Intel on Crossbones and his gang. He made the plan, placed an unstable high-powered individual ALONE in the field with Nat telling her what to do over an ear piece (and Wanda blew her off), as soon as Crossbones blew Steve's strategy, he went gung-ho through a major, heavily populated marketplace, confronted the enemy, IMMEDIATELY got compromised by the word "Bucky" and allowed Crossbones to set off a suicide vest. If Wanda hadn't been there, Steve and that entire block would have been decimated. Wanda did her best, but she was not up to snuff and lives were lost anyway. Did Steve show remorse? No. He brooded that Rumlow said "Bucky and I was 16 again". He told Wanda essentially that it's regrettable but not to worry about it. Those dead people due to his hard-on to get Rumlow? All those lives of diplomats and humanitarian workers gone? No big whoop. Sad but you know, Steve's perfect so they just had to die. He willingly and uncaringly put people in harm's way that got them killed that with a cool head and better planning (or compromise with others ideas) could have been avoided. That's the making of a sociopath. A monster. NOT someone who should be in charge of an elite team that defeated an ALIEN INVASION HEADED BY A GOD.

Think about this. I loved the Winter Soldier. I think it's in my top 5 MCU movies. Other than the exposure of who knows how many legitimate S.HI.E.L.D agents who may have been in the middle of stopping child slavery rings or something, it's an excellent film. Civil War? Garbage. Utter garbage. Trash. They had a good plot, the Hydra super soldiers, that could have been action packed, exposed Bucky's whereabouts, had a big fight scene, had Tony learning Steve had been omitting how his parents died and still had Zemo taken down and the Avengers break up. Set it up even. Those soldiers were shot off screen as this confusing red herring. Why even mention them if you're just going to shoot them off-screen like an afterthought? Hmm. I should write that. I may have too, if someone hasn't done it already. If so, DM me the link?

But get away from this "Steve Rogers can't be wrong cuz he's Captain America" schtick. Bad enough Civil War turned him into a callous, selfish tool. Don't make the situation worse for him.

I love my Stucky, don't get me wrong. I'll die on this ship. But Civil War is NOT the Steve Rogers characterization you need to be advocating as the ideal. In that movie, he's an asshole and if Peggy or 1930s Bucky knew what he'd done, they'd have BOTH punched him. Maybe more than once. And withheld his dessert at dinner.

I'm just saying.