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happypeachsludgeflower · 7 months ago

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SVSSS BRAINWAVE JUST HIT! I HAD A THOUGHT ™

An average modern person transmitigates into SVSSS. Mind you, I specifically mean SVSSS and not PIDW. That’s right, our protagonist awakens to find themselves as a NPC in the world of Scum Villain Self Saving System. And they think to themselves upon waking up, “Oh, I’m an NPC in a xianxia novel with a happy ending! Cool!!” and goes about their life being a background nerd geeking out about plants, and monsters, and cultivation in general, and neat flying swords.

But this is a world of sex pollen and wife plots and unfortunately the cure for a lot of diseases is duel cultivation with a heavenly demon, and we all know who that demon is going to end up marrying, so it’s best to mess around with meta cultivation knowledge and prep for the worst case scenario, and honestly, they may as well solve some of the minor issues in the plot while their at it, so they invent some new cultivation techniques from some of those nifty svsss fanfictions they read while alive (I’m specifically thinking of this fic’s explanation of duel cultivation and cauldrons, but other weird cultivation methods could be used from other fanfics and xianxia books), so they can tidy up some things.

For instance, is it really necessary for Zhuzhi-lang to be stuck as a weird snake creature for nearly twenty years? Is it really needed for Yue Qingyuan to have crippled cultivation due to his sword?? Does Tianlang Jun have to be stuck under a mountain and then escape only to slowly die in a decomposing body??

They know they can’t change everything without the system interfering, but small nudges should help right? After all, they’re just a background NPC and Shen Yuan will show up eventually and everyone will fall in love with him and no one will even notice the NPC’s existence even if they had noticed something was up during their miraculous healing and salvation spree.

So they go about fixing those things. They catch Zhuzhi-lang unawares and feed him a sun and dew mushroom seed while he’s confused and do some funky cultivation shenanigans and pat him on the head cause he’s really such a cute weird snake creature and give him some vague warning about not trusting in laws and then fucks off to somewhere else.

I’m still caught up on Metagaming’s concept of duel cultivation transactions where you give and take—like taking something from someone’s cultivation, not just power, and returning something else—and keep getting stuck in a brainrot loop of the NPC taking some bloodmite powers from Zhuzhi-lang when they gave him a fully humanoid form that’s not reliant on Tianlang Jun. So my main idea for how the NPC plots to hold Yue Qingyuan in place is feeding him lesser bloodmites (not full ones because they only took a minor ability and can only hold someone for a few minutes before the bloodmites die), while they hold Yue Qingyuan still long enough to draw some ritual to heal his soul and separate it from Xuan Su. But honestly, I’m sure other ideas could apply here too. My Metagaming brainrot is just too strong right now to think of any.

And Tianlang Jun? Simple. Zhuzhi-lang’s got a humanoid form and can easily get the sun and dew mountain flowers for himself. They can’t stop the man from being imprisoned entirely. The system says no since Luo Binghe needs a dramatic entrance. So while they can’t stop the tragedy, they can put some pieces into play for an early escape, maybe a new plan to get him a better body once’s he’s back, and be a ferry for Su Xiyan’s body to revive her at some point as well.

It’s nice being an unnoticeable NPC, isn’t it? You can do whatever you want and no one’s going to know!!

Except. Someone does notice (as we all could have seen coming). And Shen Qingqiu is suspicious as fuck of this obnoxious Shidi because he notices everyone due to paranoid, and he’s even MORE suspicious of the mysterious character that healed Yue Qingyuan’s soul (and wasn’t that a doozy of a realization to have when Yue Qingyuan burst into his bamboo house one day freaking out because some disguised, powerful cultivator somehow did the impossible after ambushing him and holding him down as they healed his soul, and Shen Qingqiu is still reeling from learning that Yue Qingyuan’s SOUL was damaged trying to save Xiao Jiu and the stubborn asshole never told him because he apparently assumed Xiao Jiu knew there wasn’t a single universe where Qi ge didn’t try to come for him). And so yea, Shen Qingqiu is suspicious as all hell and starts snooping and plotting to catch the mysterious cultivator by combing through Cang Qiong because whoever it is has to have an in at the sect somewhere to know about Yue Qingyuan’s soul.

And that’s not even mentioning how suspicious Zhuzhi-lang and Tianlang Jun are now. They might not have realized what that strange cultivator did when they did it, or understood the cryptic in law mention, but they certainly have some suspicions now that Tianlang Jun was as imprisoned by in law like people, and Zhuzhi-lang kept his humanoid form just fine without Tianlang Jun, and now the hunt is ON for the mysterious benefactor, so they can repay the kindness and find out what the fuck is going on.

The NPC is, of course, oblivious to all of this going on and goes about their merry way thinking they’re being the Best ™ at being lowkey. They are SO good at being inconspicuous!! They deserve an award really!!

And then. Shen Qingqiu doesn’t qi deviate.

Shen Yuan doesn’t show up.

Oh shit, the NPC thinks to themselves as they begin to panic. They even check Shen Qingqiu out themselves to see if it’s Shen Yuan just being really good at acting. Maybe he was a better actor in the book than he gave himself credit for or something?? But no. That’s Shen Qingqiu all right. Shen Yuan is missing in action, and someone has to fix the plot of Cang Qiong is doomed.

Thus begins the NPC’s journey to try and unobtrusively fix PIDW’s child abuse problems (that they’re unaware are already fixed), save Liu Qingge from his qi deviation in Ling Xi Caves, make sure Luo Binghe doesn’t raze the sect to the ground someday and hopefully find him some sort of husband replacement to keep him under control when he does return, possibly dispose of the Huan Hua Palace Master at some point because he’s vile trash, and did I mention there are multiple man hunts for this poor oblivious dude currently on going??

And the most important question for them to solve? Where the fuck did Shen Yuan go??

Hmm I wonder where that man could have gone.

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torusonicpilled · 5 months ago

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can we know more about the future au👀👀❓️

Alright I've been waiting for this, get ready for a really long lore dump... (click on keep reading so I don't clutter up the tags)

Future AU takes place 200 years after when-ever the main events of the game are. This would make Shadow 215 years old and Sonic 216 years old. Sonic: Sonic was created by a cult of former ARK scientists who wanted to create a version of Shadow specifically to be a weapon and without the Black Arms DNA. They used the DNA of a god and were successful (obviously.) However, Sonic at one point lost control of his power and destroyed everything, this event made him lose his memory. The first thing he saw when he woke up was the nature around him, creating his free-spirited nature (contrast to how Shadow woke up seeing Maria for the first time.) All this lore is here to explain why Sonic is immortal. However because Sonic is immortal and the public is unaware of this, and basically the gods have their own secret cult that gave Sonic an ultimatum. Basically he could A) Die at around 40 but keep his freedom, however the earth he loves may one day be destroyed due to the lack of him protecting it. B) He lives long enough (around 110) for people to realize he is immortal like Shadow, and not wanting to waste their best protector against the planet, seals him away, freezing him and only take him out when they need him to save them, or C) fake his death and continuing living, but lose his humanity, never being able to be “Sonic the Hedgehog” again. Sonic also never made this choice, as Shadow was the one who decided. Shadow feels guilt over this even if Sonic has gotten over it at this point.

Sonic goes through a major depression in the years 110-150, as he basically loses his identity and is struggling with that. Sonic eventually finds some old outfit Shadow has in the closet, and uses it to become a masked figure called “S.” He now saves people under S, his speed being from “technology” and a voice modulator hiding his voice. Sonic is insanely powerful in the future, so people start equating him to a “legendary hero” who only appears when a threat too strong shows up. (like how Silver acted when talking about Whisper in IDW #8.)

Sonic still has a lot of his immature traits personality wise, however he is a lot smarter when it comes to combat, having experience in situations, as well as being extremely overpowered.

Shadow: Due to Shadow being the ultimate lifeform, he’s allowed to still be in public and shows his face. Shadow leaves G.U.N after Rouge retires, as Team Dark disbands. Once Rouge dies, Shadow spends a lot of time with Sonic, as Sonic is going through it being dead in all but name.

Around 130-140, Shadow created “Maria’s Solutions,” his own private organization for helping people. Shadow is someone people go to when people can’t go to police or other organizations for help. He accepts help from almost any client, however he is often avoided by the worst as his power is terrifying. Shadow is now a detective, negotiator, and bounty hunter all in one, as he is more knowledgeable and collected now.

After Eggman's death, Shadow adopted Sage at his request, not having it in him to bring her offline. Sage has a duplicate robot body but she prefers to spend time with him on Shadow's phone. She helps him out in missions, with hacking and tech related problems.

Shadow has other employees for Maria’s Solutions, however I’m still working on them. Main ideas include an innocent girl similar to Maria he’s taken a soft spot to, a robot like Omega who works as a maid around their house, etc.

Silver: Silver will occasionally come back to check in on Shadow. Due to the deal they made, Silver can’t know Sonic is alive. However, due to a mishap, Silver finds out and becomes friends with S. Sonic likes spending more time with Silver so he hides this fact from Shadow, sometimes going on missions with Silver.

Other info

Sonic and Shadow aren’t important to this world. Lots of organizations and people fight in this world, thus leaving Sonic to deal with world ending threats and Shadow his clients. Organizations include

Technology conglomerates

A church that worships Gaia

The restoration

Militaries

Sonic and Shadow are married with rings pierced in their ears, however they do not like to define relationships.

Anyone who Shadow trusts enough will meet Sonic by accident, but calls him “S” either way.

Knuckles can be spoken too by connecting with the master emerald, which is underneath Sonic and Shadow’s house in an underground facility.

Tails reincarnates when he dies with an extra tail, however he gets his memories from his last 100 years only if he meets Sonic. They don’t meet until 130ish, where Sonic agrees to wait until Tails is 20 every time before he hunts for him. (this part I’m still working on.)

Sonic is a jack of all trades who can use any weapon to fight as he likes to switch it up. Shadow uses a gun and sword combo along with his chaos abilities.

AU is more comedic despite the somber tone, as Sonic and Shadow are still Sonic and Shadow at the end of the day.

Well that was a lot but if you want more info send me another ask with more questions for me to answer

#sth #future au #text post #sonadow

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thejakeformerlyknownasprince · 7 months ago

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So I'm putting together an In Defence of Cassie PowerPoint for a PowerPoint night with friends. Do you have any arguments for or against her? I trust your opinion and am curious.

Let's see.

"She's too powerful, too unique, too far-seeing, and not good enough for Jake! What a Mary Sue!"

Counterpoint: May I introduce you to the reigning champion fan favorite, Sad White Boy Tobias?

Only nothlit ever to regain the ability to morph

Only known human-andalite hybrid ever to exist

Regarded as savior by entire hork-bajir species

Entire existence is a time paradox the war hinges upon

Pulls the canonically "most beautiful girl in our grade", who turns down 6 or 7 other offers in favor of Bird Boy

Correctly predicted planetary ecology 65 million years in advance

Believed to be immune to 2-hour limit

In conclusion: y'all wouldn't be crying "Mary Sue" if Cassie was a sad white boy, and I can prove it.

"She's too weak and hand-wringing, and she never helps the war effort!"

Counterpoint: First of all, the fact that the same people say this in the same breath as "she's too powerful" is... telling. Secondly:

She saved the entire team's lives in #24, in #29, in #44, and in MM1, among others.

Specifically calling out #44 — that ending shows she is willing and able to be ruthless when her friends are in need. She doesn't like slaughtering human-controllers, but if the alternative is everyone she loves dying, then she'll fucking well do it.

Much like Jake (see: Sad White Boy), she's more willing to risk herself than her friends, hence the end of MM1

Her medical knowledge saves Marco from rabies, Ax from brain!appendicitis, and Tobias from bird flu.

Her survivalist knowledge saves everyone in #25 (the Arctic), MM2 (Cretaceous Era), #11 (rainforest), and #14 (desert).

In conclusion: Cassie's only idealistic-looking by the standards of this extremely morally gray team.

"She's so unfair to Jake!"

Counterpoint: Jake? The Jake who refused to speak with her for weeks? Jake who proposes marriage while they're still broken up? Jake who announces he'll never trust Cassie again because she [checks notes] saved his brother's life? That Jake?

Also:

She gives him tons of emotional support in #16, #21, #47, and other times he's feeling low.

They have a healthy argument where they air differences and come to an understanding in #9.

Did I mention he doesn't just dump her but ghosts her in the middle of the war's endgame?

They're teenagers. Their relationship isn't perfect, but it is built on open communication and mutual respect which is more than Rachel and Tobias can say

She's fighting a war, and PTSD for that matter. No, she doesn't have infinite emotional bandwidth.

In conclusion: Their relationship is fine, their breakup is mutual, and her behavior only looks bad if, once again, you're holding Cassie to a different standard than you are Jake.

"She shouldn't have trusted Aftran!"

Counterpoint: friendly reminder that the alternative was killing a 6-year-old for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. If that's what you think Cassie should've done, that tells us more about you than about her.

"She spends too much time moralizing!"

Counterpoint: this is a book series about war, not a friggin' video game. If you want moral pornography, go play Call of Duty. If you want sci fi realism, then you're going to have to accept that a majority of humans prefer not to kill their fellow humans if at all possible.

"She's a ripoff of [insert character here]!"

Counterpoint: literally every single one of these says more about the commenter than about the source work. "Every dystopia is set in the U.S." is the kind of thing only people who only read books by American authors would think. "All epic fantasy is Eurocentric" => tell me you only read books by white people without telling me. I'm glad you think Cassie is too similar to Willow Rosenberg, but there are at least 6 other stories in the known world, and I hear some of them even feature sweet/dorky/caring characters who are secretly ultra-powerful.

In conclusion: You don't have to like Cassie as a (fictional) person, but 85% of criticisms directed at her are bad-faith attacks on one of the 1990s' only fat Black female gnc ultra-powerful superheroes.

#animorphs #cassie animorphs #misogynoir #tbh this was fun #and cathartic #now i kind of want to go to this powerpoint night #mama nature

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pupmkincake2000 · 5 days ago

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Since I've been noticing comments on tiktok lately about how Gale and Astarion are not a match for each other and it's not clear why they are being shipped, I decided to write a post about them again.

So, why bloodweave works? In my opinion, of course.

First of all, it is about emotional and intellectual contrast. Which means, Gale is a scholar, a romantic, a patient, expressive man. He talks things out. While Astarion is wounded and sarcastic. He’s used to hiding vulnerability behind control, charm and flirting.

And here’s the magic (☺️): Gale doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t try to “fix” Astarion. While others might see Astarion’s snark as hostility (or even frlirting), Gale sees through it, he reads the grief and fear beneath the surface. He’s one of the few who can answer cruelty not with fear, but with calm compassion. This is the case where a kind person isn’t weak, they’re resilient.

Also, Astarion needs someone who isn’t afraid of him, and Gale isn't. Remember how Gale reacts when he finds out Astarion is a vampire? He's excited. And he's immediately sympathetic.

Most people either fear Astarion or see him as a weapon/unusual sex toy. Gale is one of the few who can recognize the monster and still be there for him. He’s not naive. He knows the risks. He knows what vampires are. But he chooses to look deeper, not out of pity, but because he sees a soul worth saving. That's why I do not really like when people say that they can make each other worse. Sure, they can, but they can heal each other as well.

And as we know, Astarion is terrified of being loved, and he's terrified of being in love too. And Gale never demands love in return. He offers warmth without pressure. His presence is safe, but never suffocating.

With Gale, Astarion can learn (maybe for the first time) what it’s like to be seen and not used. To be wanted not for performance, but for presence.

But what about sexual/romantic tension? We do not see it much, yet it’s there.

Let’s not forget: they’re both control freaks in their own ways🤣Astarion controls with seduction, with charm and with dominance. Gale controls with words, logic, magic, insight. Now imagine what happens when either of them chooses to surrender — not in weakness, but in trust. That’s chemistry. That’s intimacy built on choice, not power or power imbalance. It’s not just sweet fluff, it’s push and pull, dominance and surrender, healing and hesitation. It’s a grown-up, layered romance that could crack you open like a spellbook bound in blood.

To me, they complete each other.

Astarion doesn’t need a savior. He needs someone who sees everything — the blood, the cruelty, the wounds — and still chooses him. And that’s Gale. He’s not blinded by Astarion’s looks and performance, he’s warmed by the soul beneath it.

And we know that Astrion isn't a good person, exactly. We know that. But that's exactly why he's compelling to Gale. Gale isn’t naive, he’s curious. He isn’t a moralist. He’s a seeker of knowledge, of magic, of people, of the unknown. He doesn’t idealize goodness. What interests him is motive.

He once fell for a goddess who used him. He’s been part of stories full of danger and ambition. And yet, he still chooses to stay open to the world.

Astarion isn’t just “bad.” He’s a paradox. A man with trauma and sharp edges, always walking a tightrope between freedom and cruelty. For Gale, that’s not a red flag, I assume. Gale knows what it’s like to live with dangerous power. Don’t forget that he carries a literal magical bomb inside his chest. He knows what it’s like to be a threat, even unwillingly. Gale doesn’t crave comfort, he craves depth, he also isn’t looking for a fairytale romance.

Astarion is a riddle wrapped in wit and trauma. He flirts, lies, tests boundaries and slowly, vulnerably, opens up. That isn’t a redemptive arc wrapped in fluff. That’s a challenge. And Gale? We all know that he loves a challenge😆

If he could survive a divine heartbreak, he can absolutely choose to love a vampire learning how to be free.

#bg3 gale #bg3 astarion #bg3 #astarion x gale #astarion romance #baldurs gate astarion #astarion #gale of waterdeep #gale x astarion #galestarion #gale dekarios #baldurs gate 3 #bloodweave #astarion ancunin

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monsterblogging · 2 months ago

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The thing a lot of people don't get about Lovecraft's cosmic horror is that it's about how it feels when you really grapple with the fact that you live in a dangerous and chaotic world that doesn't really care about you, and where terrible things can happen to you because you are not life's main character. It's not about a fear of the unknown, per se.

It's about feeling out of control and overwhelmed by it all while feeling certain that true relief will never come.

It's about feeling like you're the only one who has really reckoned with this, and feeling like this knowledge is crushing you.

It's about how it feels when you understand that the stories people tell themselves about loving higher powers and ancient advanced civilizations that will one day rise again are just copium.

The weird and scary things in Lovecraft's writings are tools and devices to talk about this all feels - how overwhelming, frustrating, and depressing it can be. If you think his style of horror is dead because he was wrong about X thing or bigoted about Y people, you've missed the point of his work.

Think about how it feels when you know that your life will be impacted by political choices made by people who don't care whether you live or die.

Think about how it feels when you stop and think about the fact that human rights aren't guaranteed, and there is no absolute assurance that things are going to keep progressing in the long run.

Think about how it feels when you know that you live in a world where a new pandemic could do incalculable damage on top of the damage wrought by the last one.

Think about how it feels when you see women on TikTok getting into pseudoscientific and far right stuff because they think it's going to save them.

Think about how it feels when you see guys talking about how the patriarchy must be restored so men can feel strong again.

Think about how it feels when you start to fathom the depths of how deeply racist the US government is and how it's how it's always used this racism to sustain itself.

Think about how it feels when you see people being like "Oh yeah, I can't live without ChatGPT, I need it to write essays/grocery lists/emails" while knowing the costs and impact of generative AI.

Cosmic horror isn't actually about scary things from space. It's about things that are so far beyond your personal ability to control or change that they feel like they might as well come from space. It's not really about feeling scared because you can't understand things, it's about feeling scared because they feel so immensely overwhelming and you feel powerless to really do anything about it.

#and if you think we can do something about it by collectivizing #you're very smart and pacific rim is for you #or maybe chrono trigger or final fantasy 7 #lovecraft #hp lovecraft #horror #cosmic horror #literature #writing

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merrinla · 2 months ago

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Elgar'nan and Ghillan'nain cut banter during the fight with two dragons

Most likely, these lines were cut because it was decided that Elgar'nan should first appear here, not in Minrathous as it was before. So the usual banter without animations or effects was rewritten and remade into a cutscene that we see in the game.

Ghillan'nain: Clouded hearts. Shadowed by fear, eclipsed by doubt. Rook: Ghilan'nain! Elgar'nan: You struggle fruitlessly, when you could kneel. If the player saved Minrathous and met Elgar'nan. Previously the first meeting with him depended on the city choice. Rook: And Elgar'nan! If the player saved Treviso. Rook: I'm guessing you're Elgar'nan!

Ghillan'nain: The ones from the fortress. Ghillan'nain: The ones that destroyed my Archdemon! Elgar'nan: You shall have your vengeance, my sister. Elgar'nan: Fen'Harel's last piece on the board, ours for the taking.

Elgar'nan: The Dread Wolf once commanded armies. Elgar'nan: Loyal warriors who lived by his command and died with his name on their lips. Elgar'nan: All dust. All forgotten. Elgar'nan: He will lead you to your doom, as he led countless others.

Elgar'nan: You owe Fen'harel nothing, for he has given you nothing. Elgar'nan: He harbors secrets like no other, for he has little else to comfort him. Elgar'nan: He has not shown you the true power of the dagger. Elgar'nan: He has not offered knowledge of the prison that holds him. Elgar'nan: All this and more I would gladly share. In exchange I ask only for your devotion.

Ghillan'nain: The world has grown thin-blooded. Its skies empty. Its spirits weak. Ghillan'nain: The Dread Wolf's Veil choked all glory from this place! Ghillan'nain: Once we found our new empire, I will bring us closer to the glories of old.

Ghillan'nain: I was once young. Foolish. I crafted creatures for beauty or grace. Ghillan'nain: But elegance did not suffice. There was always a lack! A complexity even I could not reach! Ghillan'nain: We will have the dagger. We will release the blight. Ghillan'nain: And I will unlock the final mysteries of blood, and flesh, and bone!

Ghillan'nain: The dragon fails! Elgar'nan: Its weak flesh could never substitute for your masterwork. Elgar'nan: When we are finished here, we shall gather for you the makings of the finest Archdemon yet.

Elgar'nan: (Snarls) Ghillan'nain: You were correct, Elgar'nan. These creatures fail our needs, again and again. Elgar'nan: It seems the way of this pale world. Elgar'nan: For now, patience. When retribution comes, it will be all the sweeter.

Elgar'nan: I see the Dread Wolf's game. I know his moves and the pieces he has arrayed against me. Elgar'nan: When next we meet, Rook, you will not be so fortunate.

#dragon age #dragon age the veilguard #dav #da voicelines #da datamine #elgar'nan #ghilan'nain #evanuris #rook

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thatweirdthingoverthere · 3 months ago

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"You who watch and know and understand none-"

A Theory On Why Jon's Empathy Made Him The True Pupil

The Eye sees all, knows all, and forever craves more knowledge. But knowledge is hollow without understanding. There's a difference between reading "fire is hot" and burning your finger touching a candle. Fear is only a concept, until it is *felt*.

Unlike the Eye's sister fear, the Web, the Eye sees what was and is in pure cold objectivity, and never understands enough to use this knowledge to form new information, such as predicting the future.

The Eye needs understanding. To gain this understanding, it needs a conduit.

Jonah Magnus, Elias, is not this conduit. Jonah is a coward and never engages directly, choosing to manipulate and watch the suffering of others from a distance. He is detached from all of it in his selfish greed. He is not committed to the Eye save for how it serves his own desires. This is easily discerned from the fact that he himself could have undergone the "trials" Jon went through to become the catalyst of the change but instead forced Jon to do so.

Then, there is Jon. In a sense cowardly, yes, but unlike Jonah, he has - albeit often unwillingly - *faced* his fears, and through statements *felt* the suffering of others. He is a being of empathy, of understanding. And as Jon becomes more and more embedded in his existence as The Archivist, his empathy grows. His portrayal gradually changes from a snide, detached academic, to a man struggling to hold on to what's left of his humanity and the people he cares about. The same season that he begins to prioritize helping his friends (pulling Daisy from the coffin, removing the bullet from Melanie), he completes his transformation into this conduit - finalized by opening up and rescuing the person he loves, Martin.

Another Tumblr post emphasized that Jon during the apocalypse is not the antichrist, but in fact an allegory of Christ Himself. It occurred to me reading that post that also, much like Christ, Jon is both man and god, and feels all of the fear and pain of the trapped souls in the world. A bridge between divine fear and human suffering.

When Jon uses his power to "smite", his weapon is empathy. He forces the avatar to feel and know the fear they have inflicted - unlike him, they are unable to bear this suffering, and disappear.

The Eye knows, and Jon feels. And that is why he is the true Pupil, because unlike Jonah, he can make the Eye's knowledge of human fear whole.

#the magnus archives #jonathan sims #tma #martin blackwood #jmart #elias bouchard #jonah magnus #the eye #ceaseless watcher #the beholding #the eyepocalypse #the panopticon #the web #rusty quill

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occamstfs · 2 months ago

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Zero to Hero

In a world with superpowered celebrities, how could one not long to join them. Despite discovering his own cerebral abilities, Shirong/Zero always longed for the flashier sort of strength. When he finally gets the call up to the big leagues, he’ll get just that- though not quite how he always dreamed.

Went a little crazy with this one haha! Bit different than it was on the poll and with quite a long preamble before the TF, which starts at the red 0 0 0 if you want to skip straight to the action ;) Otherwise, I hope you enjoy this story of a hero unknowingly giving up his brain for some brawn! -Occam

Everyone wants to be a superhero. You grow up your whole life watching the Hero Corps jetting around, saving lives, doing flashy photo ops. It’s no wonder every kid out there wants to follow in Mustang’s or Lady Libertas’ footsteps.

Shirong Ling was not exempt from the sway of these heroes and heroines. Again, who could be. All his youth the young son of second generation immigrants pushed himself to his limit, toiling as hard as he can athletically to end up a bench warmer and max out his lifts at what actual athletes label a warmup. Physically, Shirong plateaued before he even began.

In just about every other regard, the young man excelled with flying colors. Something of a tech whiz, every adult in his life keeps him on retainer for ever-needed support. He aced rigorous course loads and went above and beyond in any non-athletic extracurriculars, though despite that all he still struggles to accept he’ll never see his name in lights.

His parents longed to see him happy and worried the glitz and glamor of those oiled up superstars was doing irreparable damage to their young man’s ego. After graduating he was on the precipice of finally accepting that it’s just going to be a civilian’s life for him. And then, it happened.

As is more often the case, Shirong just woke up one day and had superpowers. Quite the bizarre one, the information age youth found himself with the ability to access anything on the internet with his mind. Finally it all made sense to the student, just like his parents said, he had misplaced his priorities though mind now brimming with ever increasing knowledge he’s certain they were not correct in the way they intended.

In terms of the U.S. Hero Corps operations, he was a brainiac. Some superhuman with ultra-enhanced intelligence or similar mind-based paranormal powers. Indisputably useful and outright necessary for any of the hero teams bustling about the world. No team can truly function without heroes like Shirong is to be, though rarely does one have the star power or flat out endurance to make the mainstage and headline a team.

Knowing this, as well as anything else he forces his awareness to understand, as soon as he honed his skills enough to be useful Shirong hatched a plan. Filled with the confidence of an upstart grappling with unlimited power, he knows exactly how he can be one of the greats. After a few years stateside of using his nigh-limitless knowledge to solve problems that have long plagued just about every field that he has the slightest interest in, when the USHC makes a call for new heroes the multihyphenate is quick to answer.

Unfortunately for the young hero, he doesn’t even make it in the room, his brand simply isn’t strong enough. They already have a brainiac and Shirong doesn’t even have a logo or heroic deed to his name. Returning home to a bedroom filled wall to wall with degrees he barely lifted a finger to earn, he chides himself for not taking this seriously enough. Spending that night learning everything there is to know about the USHC and their recruitment process.

The next morning he rises a new man and broadens his horizons. Almost immediately into his research he hears that the Beijing chapter of the ZYL has an unexpected need for a new brainiac. Before the sun sets across the Atlantic, Shirong has applied with a new alias and persona. Zhihui 0, Zhìhuì Líng, literally Wisdom Zero.

Pitching himself as a returning wayward son to that most ancient of nations, as well as a fresh new tech savvy immigrant hero, the Beijing chapter is more than happy to welcome him onboard. He masters Mandarin, Xiang, and Cantonese on the flight over. The whole thing goes as well as he had expected his application to the USHS would, not that he’s bothered. Known mononymously as Zero to his new team, he fits in swimmingly and in little time at all finds himself quickly making waves and getting heat that brainiacs seldom enjoy.

Never pick of the litter mind, but Zero is reaching heights in Beijing that any man in the van usually struggles to do. Almost as much effort is spent spreading his name as doing good. Zero’s happy to find that the Chinese audience seems primed for a young waifish heartthrob in a way that American fans of the USHC don’t appreciate nearly as much. Faster than he even expected he’s tagging along to group events and glitzy photo shoots.

With each bound forward and new height of his rising star, Zero never lets himself forget that this whole jaunt abroad is but a stepping stone towards American Stardom. Sure, the language and culture were truly nothing for a man with his skills to overcome and appreciate, and he does truly enjoy the opportunity to service and enjoy a city more than twice as large as NYC. But, having been SF born and bred, the need to reach those specifically American superstar heights is simply too deep.

And in reality he’s beginning to see the limits of his influence in this non-native land. I mean c’mon, the leader of his team is literally the Sun King. Some self-styled computer whiz isn’t going to displace a monkey man literally dubbed Wukong at birth. No, despite knowing he’ll only continue to burn brighter in China, checking the stories etched into his mind of heroes who settled down and grew complacent, Zero refuses to slow.

So, when there’s talk of a hero trade with the USHC, Zero is first in line to return stateside. Using every scrap of influence he has in Beijing, he arranges himself to be sent in exchange for Trailblazer, some bruiser type woman who’s sure to do some dirty work for the ZYL. Before it’s even been finalized, Zero leaves his research and tech with his actual replacement, some meek diviner named Yijing, and he books a flight back home.

Yet again, there’s not a doubt in Zero’s mind that he is soon to be the next big all star in the USHC. He can see his face on billboards now, leading the American superintel team, blazing new ground for all those little ones out who’ll never be able to go toe to toe with bruisers and their ilk. It’s been so long since he’s been, this time no one will be able to stop him. Zàijiàn Beijing, welcome back America.

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It isn’t until his first meeting with the team leader, Mustang, that he finally learns that his dreams do not align with the USHC plans. “Now listen here Zero, ain’t all that bad y’know. Team just don’t need another brainiac right now. Higher ups, the powers that be- Well, they just think that Binary is more than enough an ace that we don’t need two of yas.”

Zero frowns, biting his tongue to not insult the man’s intelligence. Mustang has always been one of his favorite heroes, dim as he may be. Hearing that famous, simple drawl in person is almost enough to distract Zero from the acerbic words spilling from his mouth as he’s reminded that the Corps are just pawns for management to do with as they please. Pieces to play when there is something that need punching, or punching bags when they need to save face.

No, he knows he has no reason to fight with Mustang, who despite his poor job relaying the message, obviously means well with his new teammate. Who Zero doesn’t care for however, is the stoic android who has been standing motionlessly behind his hero since they entered the room. Binary, the current USHC brainiac supreme, some old tech instilled with life that masquerades as a real once-human superhero. Oft kept in the shadows where their rusty profile belongs.

Apparently the foremost opponent in his way. Them, Zero has no qualms in attacking. ”So you’re telling me this geratic hunk of junk is just going to keep his spot on the roster forever? I’m smarter than them, faster! I mean for fucks sake surely management can see the lengthy list of pros to having an actual human being as the head of their intel department.” The android’s face remains unmoving as Zero tears into them.

Mustang scratches the back of his neck uncomfortably. Groaning to himself as he readjusts his immense weight, “Now hold on there littlun let’s not be too hasty. You, me, and Dupree ere’ll be a team no matter which way this shakes out. It’s just-” Mustang takes a second to adjust, unlike his two present compatriots thinking does not come naturally, “from what Binary thinks, the know-it-all biz just don’t got that high-profile pull that you’re after.”

Hearing the android’s right on the money, Zero’s eyes flicker from Mustang back to his would-be boss only to find the blank slate that must always be painted on their face. Rolling his eyes, he impetuously sighs and skips ahead in the conversation, “So what’s the other option?”

The hero smirks, “Ah! All you thinkers- Love it! So, I’m not gonna pretend to know anything bout the details, but Binary and the researchers’ve ‘pparently made this serum that’ll let any superdude and wonder gal unlock some latent powers. So, we’re thinkin’ what better way to introduce our new techie, Zeehooey Zero than by unveiling you as the first ever do-it-all supe! Ain’t that right Binary?”

The bot slowly nods, still betraying nothing of the processes ongoing behind their synthetic face. “Affirmative. Should Shirong so desire, I, we, have been allowed to grant access to the department’s notes on the program.” Without waiting for a response, Binary’s eyes flash a cold blue as he gives the new Corps member access to the proprietary notes. Immediately Zero’s mind rushes in, spreading thin to learn everything there is to know, searching for a downside, an ulterior motive, a trap.

Unfortunately for the scion of the internet, the trap was laid for him in mind. Binary’s impassive facade finally cracks as they watch him fall hook line and sinker. Highlighted to a degree that should certainly raise red flags, Zero is directed towards the most likely powers gained: super strength, endurance, enhanced reflexes and healing. Exactly the superhero cocktail that every big shot in the league has.

The young man is so excited by the prospect he doesn’t even realize that the side effects and expectations for his case have been completely scrubbed. As Binary expected. In a microsecond their face falls flat once more and Zero returns from his brief sojourn in the notes on this mystery procedure, not even trying to hide how eager he is to get this done as soon as possible.

He tells himself he has no choice, that it’s this or nothing. Zero pushes down the excitement quickly overtaking him, the surging theories and potentialities that lay ahead of him, and fanart of himself as a brawny, well-muscled superhero. His eyes slam shut as he forcefully stops himself from imagining the threads on various less than puritanical sites of himself well-hung and oiled up.

After a moment of resetting Zero clears his throat and nods, completely ignoring Binary, “Yeah, Shi de. I think this is something that I’d be interested in doing, sir-” Mustang lights up and promptly reaches over the desk to dap Zero up, “Fuck yeah! I mean who can resist y’know!? Just imagine, you ‘n me ripped as all get out. Brain ‘n brawn, can’t wait littlun- er, for now that is! Hah!”

Mustang gets up with a grunt, ruffling Zero’s hair as he walks by, an eager smile on his face, betraying nothing but his ignorance of whatever Binary has in store for Zero. Binary remains motionless, eyes powering down as they await the new hero to follow the commando before heading off to research where his is to ‘discover his new powers.’ The android would laugh, but that would be unbecoming. yes.

0 0 0 - 0 0 0 - 0 0 0

Zero doesn’t quite understand the outfit they’re having him wear for the procedure. He was ready for a gown or something similar, but these are just, well, gym clothes? Obviously he read the notes and knows the whole thing is far less invasive than one would expect. But as he changes into a tank top, he can’t help but feel ridiculous.

Pulling up shorts he hasn’t worn since high school, the young hero grimaces as he sits alone waiting in the smallest of the HQ’s operating rooms. In the meantime he does what he always does, to prepare for what’s to come, to kill time. He retreats into his mind. The whole thing is kind of insane, but from his expansive understanding that’s just how it is in the big leagues.

For a moment he considers trying to dive into the USHC’s data on Binary but is promptly denied access. Something about that bot was off. Another time. He shouldn’t let the piece of chrome get him bothered, this is a win, he’s going to be brain, brawn, and out of that brainiac’s jurisdiction. He should focus on himself.

And so he does, racing through the web past fanfic and photoshopped pictures of Zhihui Zero, shifting through long dead links on superhero fanblogs. He knows exactly what he’s looking for as he dives deep into a long abandoned forum kept running through the power of his mind alone. There he finds a post he made decades ago accompanied by a sloppy drawing of a costume that looks not too dissimilar from his current one, albeit on a much broader figure. ‘I wish I could be a superhero. I want super strength and super sped!! And to fly and be able to talk to dogs :) here’s my costume i hope you like it!’

Sitting in this room on the precipice of becoming a new type of hero, a new eidolon of man, Zero simply grins. And then grimaces as his connection slowly fades into static. Shaking his head at being dampened without warning, he returns to the meatspace and sees a doctor not much older than himself smiling with a datapad. “Oop! Sorry about that though you of course knew you were going to be disconnected during this procedure hm?”

In the end, not a world away from Binary himself, Zero performs cerebral stoicism in the face of this man whose eyes glimmer with curiosity and interest. He nods as the scientist continues, “I must say our team is so intrigued by your abilities! I mean a direct connection to a fully manmade phenomena! Well, it’s no wonder Binary wants their hands on-”

Before he can finish the sentence his free hand flies to an earpiece and his face falls slightly, clearly being reprimanded by someone watching in. Zero turns to the visible camera and waves at what can only be the android, who must be obsessed with him he thinks with a smirk.

Clearly more muted than he’d like to be, the doctor restates his excitement for the procedure, gets Zero to sign off on a few wavers he should’ve read closer, and puts a friendly hand on his shoulder. “Let’s see what a bruiser we’ll make out of you!”

Zero does a double take at this, bruiser is a very specific word in hero parlance. Bruiser, Brute, muscle without a brain. His eyes shift back to the camera which is obviously inscrutable. He’s just in his head from being disconnected. He just needs to lay back and let the doctor work. The quietly smiling man moves with some degree of melancholy in his eyes as he puts an anesthesia mask on Zero. Would’ve sworn there were people for that, anesthes- anasteesy- olo just, uh-

0 0 0 = 0 0 0 = 0 0 0

And then he’s awake. His mind humming once more with his powers returned and he lets loose a sigh of relief. Worried about nothing. Like a computer starting up he flexes his mind and ensures he has access to everything he should, as he does every morning. Pinned like a bookmark to the front of his consciousness is the drawing of him buff and flexing. Looking down at his form, the same as ever he feels nothing but embarrassed.

Distinctly colder from the friendly face that laid him to rest, he is greeted by Binary as he awakens. “Excellent. Now time for the true test.” Still running through start-up processes, Zero simply stares. “I trust you are familiar with the novella: Jekyll and Hyde Mr. Ling. As you are aware with my superior processing power we have little need of a second Dr. Hyde, although, I do appreciate the greater understanding of your abilities which I am sure our associates will make use of down the road. You know, when I have need of a portable computer. However, at his juncture Shinrong, it is time for you to become the Jekyll.”

For the first time, Zero sees Binary smile before they quickly turn and sidestep out of the room, leaving him alone in this clinical cell. Going to follow in their footsteps, the young man is unsurprised to find Binary locked the door behind them.

Zero’s face burns red as his mind overheats. He forces his eyes closed as he puts all available energy within him towards overclocking his powers to find out what is going on. Was he tricked, what did he miss in the contract, how does he get out of this room. And then sharper than any headache he’s suffered in his life, Zero falls to the floor as he hits a wall in his mind that has simply never been there before.

Gasping in shock, Zero hoists himself up on the operating table, arms struggling far more than they should for how light his form is. Hesitant to delve into the internet he checks his surroundings in reality and notices what must be a one-way mirror at the back of the OR, He scowls at his reflection, not knowing who on the other side led him down this path of being a lab rat. He wonders if Mustang was in on it, picturing his genial face, it only introduces more anger in the young man.

Zero slams a fist down on the table with strength he didn’t know he could summon. Tools on a tray table nearby shake as he does so, no way he could’ve manifested such force. Looking down at his hand still forcefully in place, Zero gasps as he sees the slightest dent in the table. He pulls his arm up to inspect it, using his mind to summon what it should look like and comparing it to how it is now.

Even this is more difficult than it should be. The intricate assessment should be second nature to his supermind. At present though, Zero’s unable to perform minute calculations groaning he simply goes over the big picture. New veins trail down his arm and with each slight twitch of movement they pulse thicker. Photoshopped images of his bulging biceps, burned into his subconscious as they are, burst to the front of his mind and he suddenly forgets whatever difficulties he's having with his abilities to instead inspect his arm.

His stomach dances as he raises it to flex, smirking as he sees new muscle begin to grow. Stretching and twisting his right arm, he focuses on it with an intensity he hasn’t brought to the real world in years. Drinking in each shifting muscle fiber as they expand. Quickly bringing it into a flex he’s beside himself with primal joy as he sees it peak higher. He does it again, and again. Each time his stare grows hungrier as the bicep bloats larger, rises higher, like a loaf of bread.

Usually able to keep a running awareness of his body’s processes, Zero simply feels his racing heart and sharp breaths rather than passively watching numbers shift. He forces his hand on his chest, feeling his palm spreading wider, fingers stretching longer and growing fatter across his thin chest. Zero struggles to slow his breathing. Upon his first deep breath he realizes his arms are not the only change.

He smells the anesthesia in a medicine cabinet across the room, discarded sweat covered tissues and latex gloves in the sterilized trash. Eyes widen as he smells in real time his body odor changing. The muted rarely present stink of his old self issuing forth from his left pit at his left arm begins its rapid journey towards the powerful arm of a hero. Opposite, already changed, he feels the few hairs in his pit joined by a small garden as it now carries the musk of a man, the stink of a hero.

Turning away from the glass, Zero’s face red from rage softens to one more pink from embarrassment. Thank god they got him in these stupid shorts and not spandex. He smells his heady musk changing with every passing second, grossing stronger as his arms hang heavier and bulge larger. Their odor is then joined by a new scent as he smells pre dripping into his suddenly strained underwear.

Desperately trying to readjust and obscure his newly bulging dick, Zero grunts as every time his clumsy fingers graze it it only becomes more unwieldy. Biting his lip, he forces down his leg, leaving a pipe more than clear in the shorts but allowing him at least a modicum of dignity. His heavier balls pulse with need and his mind that rarely leaves room for sexual fulfillment simply demands that he take in his reflection.

Zero smiles as he sees himself becoming the man he always dreamed he could be, would be. Flexing an arm briefly, letting his long pit hairs drip freely, his eyes then trail down. Past his bulge he, for the first time, notices his calves beginning to surge larger. Doing a quick calf raise, Zero nearly falls over as his whole body stretches taller in that half a moment. And so he does so again, the sound of cracking bones fills the air as his whole form lengthens.

Legs that were already struggling to put on mass to match his new bulky arms surge into overdrive as they race to become the trunks that any top heavy superheroism demands. Long toes burst free from the shoddy surgical shoes they had him in, leaving his grippers exposed as his soles widen into nigh perfect shock absorbers for the hero. He flexes his toes and feels even this awaken more strength in calves, sending shockwaves of growth through the length of his lower body.

Completely forgetting about losing his mind, unaware that the fire wall he came across moments ago has only continued to shrink inward, one thought surges to the forefront. Zero needs to see what these bad boys can do. Stretching his longer legs to their limits, patting thighs and hearing how dense his muscle mass has grown in such a short time, Zero moans to himself as his pre leaks even more than his memory.

Eyes almost crossing as the thighs that now strain his pants leave his balls little room to breath, his cock straining them even moreso. Zero shifts one of the meaty palms clutching his thigh to instead tear off his underwear.

This is done with ease, fabric he couldn’t tear without tools is suddenly scattered to the floor as stained boxer briefs are torn away from his form. It’s of little matter unfortunately as in no time at all his legs surge large enough to leave the athletic shorts skin tight.

Problem solved, he laughs to himself as he remembers what his next move was. He was going to see how high he could jump. Crouching down in an instant, he flings himself immediately into the heavily reinforced ceiling of the room before crashing back onto the floor. Thankfully pain was not a sense enhanced as he lies in a heap on the floor, doing something between groaning in pain and laughing at himself.

Resting his fat hand on his chest to steady his breathing once more, he feels one of the few remaining frontiers of his body begin to puff up. With each gasping breath new weight begins to pile onto his chest. Think fingers cup his forming pecs and the bulge in his pants struggles against its confines as his nipples poke into his new mitt.

Perfectly round pecs pounding larger with the beat of his powerful heart, Zero takes a moment to reflect. Why did he just jump headfirst into the ceiling? He never acts without thinking. He should’ve known he’d shoot into the reinforced tiles. It was his job to do the math on stunts like that for his team. It is his job, what he’s good at. Narrowing his eyes, he tries to see the numbers in front of him.

At first Zero’s able to at least summon the equations in front of him. He can almost recognize the formula, what he’s supposed to do with it and what goes where, almost. Then they fade, becoming little more than spots in his vision. His mouth falls open as it now is almost always to be, bruisers being something synonymous to mouth breathers it’s no wonder that Zero is apt to join the rest of his new cohort.

On the cold sterile floor, an ass that has yet to slow down its growth begins to send tears down his shorts. Joining veiny thighs and a veinier dick, it’s only a matter of time before Zero is truly baring it all to his colleagues. He tries to ignore the image of fans across the world staring at his ass, admiring his bulge. Feeling his cock throb, both staining and straining his shorts, Zero stays strong. No, he was going to figure it out.

Still the same stubborn man he’s always been, Zero once more tries to do the math, just to show that he can, to himself. This time he struggles to even produce the first digits of the problem. Falling back on an old trick, he uses his meaty digits to try and direct his mind.

He hasn’t needed to do this since he was first starting out, he’s never had trouble organizing his mind. He’s taken great care to stay sharp, or rather he did? His crutch, his clumsy fingers struggle to offer any aid. Arms raised his musk is once more sent spewing into the open air causing him no small degree of distraction.

Sitting up in frustration, he slams an arm into the side of the operating table. His frustration only accelerates his growth. Raw, primal emotion numbs the mind and sharpens his massive form. Pecs form a wide overhang above abs so well sculpted they must have been crafted by hand. While his new hands lack finesse, this shortcoming is more than overshadowed by arms as powerful as thick and powerful as some of the strongest normies thighs.

Standing to his feet with a deep, bovine groan, Zero is reunited with his reflection. He is truly unrecognizable. As he watches his face begins to change, jaw widening, eyes dulling. He motions his hand to bring up a saved image of himself, something that should be the easiest thing in the world, but fails to produce even a memory. Static fills his ears as cotton fills his mind. He just watches, breathing in through his mouth as he hungrily stares at himself, changing and growing.

Walking closer, inspecting his massive chest, he bounces his pecs. The static grows louder. The pecs grow bigger. Forgetting he was even trying to do a comparison, his mouth waters as he instead flexes every bulging muscle on his new form. Hypnotized by his massive chest as it pushes his tank to its limits. They’re like nothing he’s ever seen before, like no man he can imagine. His eyes fill with wonder as his pecs continue to inflate as if they were hooked up to an air compressor.

Standing there, staring at his own powerful body, finally being the superhero he always wanted to be. He would almost feel disdain for being the little know-it-all he once was. The scheming little runt who solved calculus problems for the real heroes, the little guy who stared longingly at alpha heroes like the brute he is now. He sneers as he imagines being such a pipsqueak.

He would, that is, were he not on the fast track to forgetting that’s who he ever was. Hips bucking, Zero rapidly begins to forget his connection to the sum of all human knowledge. His abilities at solving mysteries and effortlessly uncovering buried answers as Zhihui Zero are rapidly wiped from his mind as his balls begin to bulge, pulsing with need.

Mouth watering at his splendor, his strength, he can’t imagine being anything but the strongest man in the room. His hips reflexively buck as he laughs at the idea that maybe he’s got supervirility too. The dumb thought only turns him on all the more. He guffaws to himself, switching poses each time his dripping cock thrusts forward, quickly breaking free of his shorts.

Massive arms fall forward on the one-way glass that Zero recognizes as nothing but a mirror with enough force to shake the whole room. Staring at his dumb eyes reflected, seeing not a single thought behind them, Zero’s whole body twitches and contorts as he loses control. Spewing his load into the once sterile OR, his heavy breaths steam the glass as his sweaty palms send cracks across the glass simply from holding his weight against them.

His enhanced nose finds its way into his pits to smell his hormones change as he finally tastes sweet release. Fuck that’s the good stuff. Tongue out, panting like an animal, Zero becomes exactly the boorish brute that Binary intended him to be, no, even more of one. Judging by the truly immense size and strength of the USHC’s new behemoth it’s clear that Binary severely underestimated how useful the young technomage would have been.

Before the new brute gets the wise idea to clean up the spilled cum with his tongue, the door at the far side of the room rears open and in walks Mustang and Binary. The android’s face squirms at the powerful odor of the room, kicking themselves for ever giving themself the ability to smell before turning it off. Adversely, Mustang is absolutely stoked to have another bruiser on the team, “Yeeehaw?! Zero that you dude!?”

Apathetic to the still dripping cock, Mustang tosses his new teammate a towel and goes over for a bear hug. Zero is similarly ecstatic to see his captain and he tests his own strength on the man built well stronger than a stallion. Embracing and feeling camaraderie in strength, Zero’s cock immediately begins to stir again and Mustang laughs, “Shoo- Gonna need RnD to whip up some real ultragrade spandex to keep that pecker under control ‘ere Zero!”

The two men laugh for a few seconds before Binary clears their robotic throat. Zero takes a step to look past his leader and is less than pleased to see the android, “Hm, what brings the old recycling bin by Cap?” Mustang pats him on the back and offers a stern look to half-reprimand him as Binary rolls their robotic eyes with a canned, “Hah Hah.” After a moment they continue, “I am simply here for the aftermath of the experiment, Zero.”

Zero’s thick brow furrows and he scratches his wiry pubes peeking above the towel, struggling to remember exactly what experiment must’ve just happened. Lucky for the boor, Binary is more than happy to explain, “Likely you do not recall, as intended, but before coming in here you were a fellow brainiac.” Zero scowls, looking down at his meaty hands he shivers performatively at the idea of being unable to lift a truck.

“Anyway. You were able to access knowledge from the internet straight from the aether, now I perhaps underestimated the use of this judging by how drastic the counterweight transformation was.” Three sentences in, Zero is finding himself more than bored with the bot. Who cares what he used to be IF he even used to be some nerd, instead his eyes flit to Mustang’s rugged chin and meaty pecs as he wonders whose are bigger.

“Now, should you ever wish to access the power again I will have tech give you equipment to do so. You must keep in mind that any use would directly draw from your strength and form. Now-” Zero interrupts, “Boooooring- Why’d I ever wanna trade brawn for brain Binary? I mean look at me? There’s a reason me ‘n Stang are on lunch boxes. I’ll leave that nerd shit to you. Thanks.”

Slightly regretting adding another meathead to their team, Binary shifts their weight and puts a pin in this conversation, “Very well.” Mustang then seizes the floor and throws his arm around Zero, “Now bud, new powers means new identity, got any ideas kickin’ around in that thick-head o’ yours?” Pinching the bridge of their nose, Binary chimes in with, “What of Idiot Savant, I think it’s-”

They’re interrupted as they often are by their ever louder cohorts as Mustang waves his hand in an arc, “Oh how ‘bout Stud! Wouldn’t mind havin’ a real partner on the team. Stud ‘n Stang, I can see it now!”

Zero then retreats into their mind to the long imagined image of himself as a brawny hero that remains firmly implanted in his psyche, internet access or not. “Y’know, I’d love to do my mom and pops proud, and they always liked Zero. Would it be alright if I kept the name?” The image of his shoddily sketched costume, still burning bright in his eyes. He’d need to go up more than a few sizes.

Binary and Mustang stare at each other before the captain shrugs. The android’s eyes light up as they set to work, “I’ll send it up to Marketing.” Not soulless, probably, they see the intensity in Zero’s expression and tack on, “I’m sure they’ll find the idea acceptable.” Zero pumps the air with a “fuck yeah!” and faster than Binary has a chance to react he rushes over to hug the robot.

Patting them on the back hard enough to loosen a few screws, the android sounds winded despite lacking lungs, “for future celebrations a handshake will suffice!” Zero waves them off and after a few seconds allows them freedom from his grasp, leaving them more than a little sweat stained.

Finally, Mustang saunters over and joins the pair. Putting a massive arm around each compatriot, he starts leading both out the door, “Now it’s about time to get those massive lats fitted for some spandex dontcha think kid?” And so the trio depart, Binary working on a report and Mustang yammering about their other teammates. Zero doesn’t quite hear as he is preoccupied imagining his new start and his first proper day as the hero he has always dreamed he could be.

#male tf #mental change #muscle tf #reality change #dumber #personality change #male transformation #superhero tf

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metalomagnetic · 2 months ago

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hi metalo! i saw you recently liked a post (i am a creep) about dumbledore being a villain not being a good analysis. years ago i was firmly in the dumblevillain camp, and while I haven’t moved out entirely (I somewhat see him as morally grey? ish?), i am SO interested in your take on dumbledore

can you please just provide a blurble of your opinion? all the love <3

Dumbledore is a good-guy archetype. He is God, to Harry's Jesus and Voldemort's Satan. He is Gandalf to Frodo, Mufasa to Simba and so on.

Dumbledore isn't morally grey; he holds no convictions that are grey in nature. Snape is a wonderful example of a morally grey character, not Dumbledore.

He is, however, a complex character, nuanced, a human being with faults. He makes mistakes, like all other characters in the books, and like all human beings in the world. He is not perfect, but he is good. The Ultimate Good.

Dumbledore is a man that lives in service of the Wizarding World and sacrifices his love, his desires, his ambition and ultimately his life for the good of others.

Dumbledore never forgives himself for those brief 2 months of summer he had with Gellert, and literally spends his entire life doing better, always doing what is right, choosing, over and over and over again, to be kind.

He saves the world, twice, by making sure Grindelwald and Voldemort would never rule over innocents. He not only ensures Voldemort will lose the war, but he makes damn sure to arm Harry with everything he needs to survive that encounter.

Dumbledore always choses love, compassion, tolerance, forgiveness. He always does what is right.

Like he himself will tell you, he made some mistakes (and he is the first to recognise those mistakes, and hold himself accountable for them) but never out of malice or for self interest. Even if he is a genius, he is not omnipresent nor omnipotent, so sometimes he errs on account of that.

He is so aware of his power, and his own human fragility and potential for corruption, that he chooses to remove himself from power, from people, locked away in a school, keeping himself contained and in check.

We also have to account for JK's less than stellar plots, and how HP books are meant for children. But, narratively, Dumbledore represents goodness. He is the hero's mentor, teacher, paternal figure, protector.

When he dies, the UK magical world is lost to darkness. Without him, the Ministry falls, Hogwarts falls, and Voldemort gains power over UK. However, Albus leaves Harry behind, arms him with knowledge (about Horcruxes and how to destroy them) and with powerful magic (the deathly hallows), leaves Harry with people that will look after him (Snape).

Albus did not sacrifice Harry- on the contrary. He loved Harry, was impressed and humbled by the goodness and determination in Harry, and he fought his hardest to keep this kid alive. Without Dumbledore, Harry would have died- not just in the final battle, but many times over. Harry wouldn't have made it past toddlerhood without this man.

To quote Harry himself:

“He accused me of being ‘Dumbledore’s man through and through.’”

“How very rude of him.”

“I told him I was.”

Dumbledore opened his mouth to speak and then closed it again. Behind Harry, Fawkes the phoenix let out a low, soft, musical cry. To Harry’s intense embarrassment, he suddenly realized that Dumbledore’s bright blue eyes looked rather watery.

How the fandom turned this man into a villain, I will never understand.

Of course, you can have a fun AU where Albus is actually evil, or morally grey. I love those kind of stories. This is strictly speaking of canon Albus, and not of wonderfully creative fics that can depict all matter of divergences where Albus can end up however deliciously evil the authors desires him to be.

(I say all this as the Biggest Voldemort's simp in the universe; but I simp for a Voldemort that we create through head-canons and collective fandom, not a Voldemort that exists in the canonical text. I simp for Voldemort's potential that was never realised in the books. Dumbledore, however, is fully developed in the books, and he is a wonderful dude.)

#albus dumbledore #hp meta

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d1gitalwitness · 3 months ago

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Siuan & Moiraine: Love and Justice in The Wheel of Time

I've been thinking a lot about Siuan's final speech in third season finale of The Wheel of Time, and I disagree with the reading that it centred Moiraine, when it was about Siuan's sense of justice, and what the Light means to her. It was also very clear for the most of the season, little of what Siuan did actually involved Moiraine - they were broken up (in a sense) but still did what they had to do respectively.

"Will you stand behind this woman who stands for nothing? Who loves nothing but power?"

Ever since Elaida's introduction, we learn that she wants the throne for herself not because she cares about the world, or even the prophecy - she wants it to establish a powerful title equivalent to her rank and that was it. There is nothing behind her ambitions, which is the darkest thing of all - even worse than Melindhra who swore to the dark because she wanted to save Malkier.

Siuan is different. She never wanted to become Aes Sedai, much less the Amrylin Seat. She comes a little fishing village and wears her Tairen tattoos proudly for everyone to see; she uses fishing metaphors even in official capacity; she decorates her room like a fishing hut and doesn't care what others think. This is who Siuan's father taught her to be - never to be ashamed of her identity, and always to wear her pride on her sleeve.

"So much for the Amrylin Seat remaining neutral without favourites. No life. No love of one's own. Nothing but the Seat."

The necessity of the Amrylin's indifference is not who Siuan is, who loved her father and never wanted to leave him, who loved Moiraine so deeply that she continued their affair knowing that it ran the risk of death. She made a choice to love Moiraine when it wasn't safe to do so, because this love is what gives her life meaning. Thematically, Moiraine and Siuan's love for each other is inextricable from their pursuit of justice - they are fighting for a future they may not get to see, but to be happy while the world rots is not something they stood for.

This is where Siuan differs from Elaida; Siuan is a ruler who loves and is loved in return, and White Tower laws do not allow room for that. The intractability of the White Tower will cause them to lost the last battle. They want to cage and gentle Rand - with good reason, of course - but this decision also means that they don't have faith that Rand can choose to do the right thing. They don't trust anyone and don't stand for anything but themselves. Moiraine, despite her ruthlessness, has come to trust that somewhere in the Dragon Reborn lies a good-hearted shepherd named Rand al'Thor.

For Siuan, the Amrylin must stand for something and someone. She cannot lead the world with indifference and selfishness. Notice that Siuan wishes that they never went to Gitara's study. For Moiraine and Siuan, the thought of knowing the truth and eloping never crossed their minds - maybe if they hadn't walked into the room, they would have eloped. But they were given the burden of knowledge, and they cannot abandon the world. It is perhaps true that Moiraine and Siuan only fell in love with each other because they recognised in each other a fundamental goodness. As Anvaere has said of Moiraine, the same can be said of Siuan.

"But there are two things my sister understands better than anyone; the difference between right and wrong, and how much harder it is sometimes to do what is right."

So when Elaida accuses Siuan of working with Moiraine - knowing damn well that these two were lovebirds - Siuan tells the truth. She loves Moiraine, and she won't be shamed - the laws of the Aes Sedai need to leave room for choice, for love, and for light. If they are to win the Last Battle, they need to change. Elaida is using the ugliness of tower laws fuel her dictatorship, and Siuan saw right through it. Elaida isn't a dark friend, but she doesn't know what the light means. Siuan does, because she loves and is loved. Her declaration of love isn't about Moiraine as much as it is about the indifference and cruelty of Aes Sedais. But Moiraine and Siuan's love for each other is what sustained them; they had the slightest of hopes that winning the last battle is what gets them closer to their dreams. It is crushing and moving and deeply heartbreaking.

“Everyone has a choice and every choice has a consequence."

People fall in love. And when they do, they care about the future that they have to live in. To have "nothing but the seat" is what Elaida embodies, and in her final hours, Siuan is warning Elaida that this tyranny and narcissism will rot her soul. Elaida's countenance of shock and surprise affirms this. Unlike her, Siuan stood for someone and something. She has more than Elaida ever would hope to gain. Siuan will never become a tyrant because she loves. To discount Siuan's love for Moiraine is to overlook the choice she made to love against the grain, even when it is the most dangerous thing she could do. As Moiraine has said, every choice comes with a consequence. Both of them knew they were living on borrowed time, but that is what enriches the love they have for each other.

There is a future where Moiraine is waiting for Siuan, but ultimately it can't be because they made a choice to forge a future for the whole world, even if it means forfeiting their happiness. Even if it means they won't live to see it. There is an extremely moving and earth-shattering bravery in that commitment.

#siuan sanche #moiraine damodred #moiraine sedai #the wheel of time #wot on prime #wot #moiraine x siuan #siuan x moiraine #wheel of time #sophie okonedo #rosamund pike #i am only analysing show!siuan so forgive me if i get any character details wrong - i believe adaptations are distinct from the original #my meta #meta: the wheel of time

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reidsworld · 11 months ago

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The Time We Have

Summary: Logan struggles with the fear of dying and leaving Laura alone, but meeting you helps him find peace. Set in an AU where Logan does not die at the end of Logan (2017).

Paring: Logan Howlett x Fem!Mutant!Reader

Category: Angst, Fluff

Content Warnings: Talks of death.

Word Count: 1.4k

Mars speaks… gif is from pinterest!

Masterlist

Logan’s knuckles ache, the bones beneath his skin creaking with every movement as if they’re finally giving in to the wear of time. It’s a pain that never quite leaves him anymore, a constant reminder that his body is failing him, betraying him in ways he never thought possible. He’s lived more lifetimes than most, fought more battles than he can count, and somehow, it’s this—this slow, inevitable decay—that feels like the cruelest blow of all.

He’s not afraid of dying. That’s never been something that scared him. He’s seen it too many times, come too close to it on too many occasions, to feel anything other than a resigned acceptance when he thinks about the end. But this… this slow, agonising decline is something different. It’s not the swift, clean death he always imagined for himself, the kind that comes in battle, in the heat of the moment. No, this is something that eats away at him bit by bit, until there’s nothing left but a shadow of the man he used to be.

And that scares him. Not the dying part—he’s made his peace with that—but the idea of leaving Laura alone in a world that’s anything but kind. He’s fought so hard to keep her safe, to give her a chance at a life he never thought he’d have to walk away from before it was time. The thought of her being alone, without anyone to protect her, has kept him up more nights than he can count.

He doesn’t talk about it. He’s never been one to share what’s on his mind, to let anyone see the cracks beneath the surface. But it’s there, every time he looks in the mirror and sees the new lines on his face, every time his claws take just a little longer to come out, every time he feels the weight of exhaustion settle into his bones.

It’s a bitter realisation, knowing that his time is running out. He doesn’t know how to feel about it, doesn’t know what to do with the knowledge that he’s slowly dying and there’s nothing he can do to stop it. The adamantium that made him unbreakable is now his undoing, poisoning him from the inside out. And there’s no one left to save him, no one who can stop the inevitable.

He’s spent his life fighting, surviving against impossible odds, but this is a battle he knows he can’t win. It’s a fight he’s destined to lose, and it’s not something he’s ever been good at accepting.

And then, he met you.

You came into his life like a breath of fresh air, a light in the darkness that had consumed him for so long. He didn’t want to let you in at first, didn’t want to admit that you could make any kind of difference in the mess that his life had become. But you were persistent, stubborn in that way he’s come to admire, and somehow, without him even realizing it, you slipped past all the walls he’d built up around himself.

You weren’t like anyone he’d ever met. A mutant, yes, but your powers weren’t about brute strength or regeneration. Instead, you had the ability to manipulate energy, to create barriers and shields that could protect those around you. It was a power that reflected who you were—a protector, a guardian. And it was exactly what he and Laura needed. Before he knew it, he found himself drawn to you in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time.

It was Laura who first noticed the change in him, the way he seemed lighter somehow, less burdened by the weight of the world. She’d always been perceptive, too smart for her own good, and she didn’t hesitate to call him out on it.

“You’re different,” she said one day, her eyes narrowing as she watched him. “You’re… happier.”

Logan had grunted in response, not wanting to admit that she was right. He wasn’t used to being happy, wasn’t used to feeling anything other than anger or pain. But with you, it was different. You didn’t change his purpose; you just made the burden lighter, made it easier to carry on knowing you were by his side.

But you didn’t push him. You let him come to terms with it on his own, never demanding more than he was willing to give. You were patient, understanding in a way that made him feel like he could finally breathe, like he didn’t have to be on guard all the time.

And slowly, without even realising it, Logan found himself accepting the inevitable. He was dying—there was no denying that. But for the first time, it didn’t feel like a death sentence. It felt like… closure. Like maybe he could finally find peace, knowing that he wasn’t leaving Laura alone, that you’d be there, that you’d spend the rest of your life with him.

One night, as you lay curled up against him on the couch, your head resting on his chest, he found himself speaking the words that had been weighing on his mind for so long.

“I’m not gonna be around forever,” he said quietly, his voice rough with the weight of the truth. “I’m dying, and there’s nothin’ I can do to stop it.”

You didn’t flinch, didn’t pull away. Instead, you lifted your head to look at him, your eyes full of understanding and love. “I know,” you said softly, your voice steady. “But you’re here now, and that’s all that matters.”

He let out a slow breath, the tension in his chest easing just a little. “I’m scared,” he admitted, the words coming out before he could stop them. “I’m not used to this… to not knowin’ what’s gonna happen. To not bein’ able to fight back.”

Your hand moved to cup his cheek, your touch gentle and reassuring. “You don’t have to be strong all the time, Logan,” you said, your voice full of warmth. “It’s okay to be scared. But you’re not alone in this. Laura and I… we’re here for you, for as long as you need us.”

He swallowed hard, the lump in his throat making it difficult to speak. “I don’t know how much time I have left,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “But whatever time I do have… I’m glad I get to spend it with you.”

You smiled, a soft, loving smile that made his heart ache with something he couldn’t quite name. “Me too,” you said simply, as if there was no question, no doubt in your mind.

And in that moment, Logan felt something shift inside him. The fear, the uncertainty that had been gnawing at him for so long, began to fade. It didn’t disappear completely—he knew it never would—but it didn’t seem as overwhelming anymore. Because he wasn’t alone. He had you, and he had Laura. And that was enough.

He pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you as if he could hold on to this moment forever. You settled against him, your body fitting perfectly against his, and he pressed a kiss to your hair, breathing in the scent of you—something that had become so familiar, so comforting.

And then he thought about Laura, about the future he’d once feared she’d face alone. But now… now he had hope. You were by his side, and together, you could give Laura the life she deserved. She’d have you to guide her, to be there when he was gone. And maybe, just maybe, she’d have a sibling to watch over her when both of you were long gone.

For the first time in a long time, Logan felt like he could finally accept what was happening to him. He was dying—there was no escaping that. But it didn’t feel like the end. It felt like… a beginning. A chance to live the life he’d never thought he’d have, with you by his side.

And when the time came, when the poison inside him finally took its toll, he knew he wouldn’t be alone. He’d have you, and he’d have Laura. And that was more than he’d ever hoped for.

So, he closed his eyes, letting the warmth of your presence wash over him, and for the first time in his long, tumultuous life, Logan felt at peace.

Mars speaks… (again) Thank you for reading, any and all feedback is always appreciated🫶

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x fem!reader #logan howlett fanfiction #laura howlett #x men #logan (2017)#deadpool and wolverine #hugh jackman #fanfiction #fluff #angst #hurt/comfort #reidsworld

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idkyetxoxo · 22 days ago

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Eight | Sacrifice | The Ruin

Pairing - Rhysand x reader (Mafia Boss Rhysand x Nurse Reader)

Word count - 2.3k

Warnings - Slight angst

<- prev || series masterlist || next ->

It was hard not to fall for Rhysand.

Not in the way love stories warned you about, not with soft candlelight or whispered promises or the kind of safety that was tame and easy.

No, falling for Rhysand was a slow-burning, sharp-edged thing. Like thawing after frostbite.

It hurt. It confused. It peeled away everything I thought I already knew and made room for something... terrifyingly real.

Yes, he was possessive. He hovered. He watched the world like it was a loaded gun and he was the only one who knew how to disarm it.

But he was also gentle in a way no one had ever been with me.

Not gentle like weakness. Gentle like restraint. Like the knowledge of power so absolute it didn't need to prove itself.

And lately... he'd used that power to make space for me. For my recovery. For my mind, bruised and stormy, to settle at its own pace. He didn't rush me. Didn't ask for more than I could give.

But he was always there.

At some point in the endless hours we spent curled in his house, wrapped in blankets and silence and questions I couldn't help but ask—I stopped being afraid of his world. I started listening.

And he never lied. Never sugarcoated the parts that would've been easier to ignore. His work was bloody. Messy. Illegal.

But it wasn't pointless. It wasn't power for power's sake.

Rhysand moved through a world built on rot, and every step he took carved out a little more room for justice. Justice not found in courts or laws but the kind that mattered. The kind that kept the worst of monsters from slipping through cracks the system would never see.

I used to think I knew what 'good' meant. What 'bad' looked like.

But now? Standing in his kitchen watching three fully grown men buzz around like anxious bees, I wasn't sure of anything except this.

Sometimes, the bad guys wear suits and smile for cameras. Sometimes, the good ones are covered in scars and blood and grief and still choose to love anyway.

Rhysand stood at the stove, barefoot in sweats and a black t-shirt, flipping eggs like it was a life-or-death operation.

Azriel leaned silently against the counter, packing my lunch with the precision of a soldier assembling a sniper rifle.

And Cassian—gods bless him was juggling strawberries, failing dramatically, and providing unnecessary but highly entertaining commentary.

"Is this really necessary?" I asked, tying my hair up into a loose bun as Rhysand turned and presented me with a plate like he was serving at a five-star restaurant.

His eyes swept over me, soft but still sharp at the edges. "It's your first shift back. Of course it is."

Then he bent, pressed a kiss into my hair, warm and lingering before reaching out and whacking Cassian's hand as he tried to steal an egg from my plate.

"Ow," Cassian muttered, rubbing his hand. "I'm helping."

"You're inhaling," Azriel said without even looking up.

I laughed, the sound surprising even me. It felt good to laugh again. Like air after being underwater too long.

"It's not like I'm incapable of working," I murmured, eyeing the absurdly beautiful breakfast with mild suspicion. "I'm still me."

Cassian snorted. "Sure, you—who was recently kidnapped, beaten within an inch of her life, and somehow still thinks triple shifts at a hospital are a solid recovery plan."

Rhysand's face blanched, the humour draining from his features in an instant. Azriel shot Cassian a glare sharp enough to wound.

But I just smiled. Because I was still standing and because they cared.

"I'm okay now," I said gently. "So back to saving lives."

Before Rhysand could respond, I leaned in, brushing my lips against his in a kiss that was quick but full of unspoken things. He blinked down at me, as if stunned every time I touched him like that.

And I liked it. I liked undoing him.

"I'm driving you," he said suddenly. I opened my mouth to protest and immediately lost the battle.

Because he scooped me up like a damn fairytale, muttering something about not trusting anyone else to get me there safely, and started toward the door.

"Rhys, I have legs."

"Yes, and they've been through enough," he replied, striding past Azriel and Cassian like this was the most natural thing in the world.

The drive to the hospital was quiet, peaceful, even which was saying something, considering Rhysand drove like the world would split in half usually.

He parked like he owned the curb, stepped out, and helped me down as if I hadn't walked into this building a thousand times before on my own.

I let him. I let him brush his thumb over my jaw, fingers trailing for a moment too long on my waist before he leaned in and pressed one last kiss to my lips, soft and lingering, like he didn't want to let go.

"Text me when you're off," he said.

I nodded, forcing a small smile. "I'll be fine."

And then I turned and walked through the glass doors, the fluorescent lights swallowing me whole.

Lucien found me before I even made it to the locker room.

"Manager wants to see you," he said, leaning one shoulder against the wall, expression unreadable.

My brows lifted in surprise. "Why?"

He shrugged, but there was tension in the line of his jaw. "I saw her talking to Ianthe earlier. So I'm guessing it's not good."

A sharp prickle ran down my spine. Ianthe. Of course.

She always smiled too wide, too fake. Always called me her friend but couldn't keep my name out of her mouth if it meant earning points with someone else.

She wanted Lucien, had for years now and somehow, in the twisted logic of insecure women, that made me the enemy.

I bit down the sigh that clawed up my throat and made my way to the manager's office, my footsteps heavy and strangely hollow.

My manager sat at her desk, phone raised to her ear. She didn't look up when I entered, just raised one finger, signalling me to wait.

So I waited. Stood there in silence, heartbeat beginning to tick just a little too fast. Like I was already bracing for something I couldn't see.

She ended the call with a curt, "Thank you," and finally looked up.

Her eyes flicked over me, not unkind, but distant, clinical. Then they lingered, ever so briefly, on the bruises still faint on my collarbone, the shadow near my temple.

"We've had some concerns," she began, folding her hands neatly atop the desk. "Regarding the company you're choosing to keep. Both inside and outside of hospital grounds."

Confusion unfurled in my chest like a cold mist. "I—what do you mean?"

She tilted her head, a sort of condescension in her expression. "You're a smart girl. Young, sweet. You know exactly what I mean."

I blinked. Once. Twice. Then the implication landed, sharp and ugly. Rhysand.

"You're talking about my personal life," I said, quietly, the disbelief starting to melt into something darker.

"I'm talking about the image you project while representing this hospital," she said, voice still measured. "You've been seen with individuals who are considered... problematic. Dangerous, even. And that association raises questions. From colleagues. From patients."

My fingers curled around the strap of my bag. "So I don't get to be seen with someone because of rumours?"

Her expression didn't change. "Whether rumours or truth, perception matters. Optics matter."

"You mean he matters," I whispered, voice tight. "And you don't like the way he looks."

She leaned back slightly, as if I'd proven her point. "You've worked hard here. And we appreciate that. But we have a reputation to protect. This isn't personal."

The fury building in my chest was molten—too hot, too sharp to keep inside.

"But it is personal," I snapped. "You're punishing me for something that has nothing to do with my job. With how I care for patients. You're punishing me for who I care about."

Something flickered in her eyes, pity maybe. Or the sterile kind of regret that doesn't mean anything.

"I'm sorry," she said, almost gently. "But as of this moment, you're suspended pending review."

My heart plummeted. "What review?" I asked, voice cracking. "What does that even mean?"

She didn't answer. Her phone rang, and she picked it up like I was already gone. Dismissed. Discarded.

"I'll be in touch," she murmured between sentences and then she was waving me off, her gaze sliding to the papers on her desk like I no longer existed.

I stood there for a beat too long, staring at her like I might wake up any second.

Then I turned and left.

No goodbye to Lucien. No pause to change out of my scrubs. I just walked. Out the hallway. Through the doors. Into the glaring light of day that suddenly felt colder than it had a minute ago.

My fingers trembled as I dialled Rhysand's number. I bit my lip hard enough to draw blood, willing the sobs back down into my throat.

He picked up on the second ring. "Bunny?" His voice was warm, but tight. Alert. "Everything okay?"

I couldn't speak for a second. Just breathed, just tried to not break. Then, in a voice smaller than I meant it to be, I whispered, "Suspended. Pending review."

A long pause. Sharp inhale. The sudden tension in his silence hit harder than any scream.

"What—" he began, but I cut him off.

"I gave everything to build a life on my own," I said, walking faster now, like moving would help me outrun the ache rising in my chest. "Every exam. Every shift. Every ounce of sleep I sacrificed—and now it's all falling apart."

I stopped on the sidewalk, chest heaving.

"Because of you."

There was silence. A silence that felt like gravity, like the edge of something dangerous and fragile. For a moment, I thought he'd hung up.

Then came his voice, soft and hollow. "Then hate me."

I closed my eyes, and it broke me. Because I couldn't. Not even now. "I don't," I said, voice cracking. "That's the worst part."

And I hung up.

Before I could hear his breath. Before I could change my mind. Before I could forgive him for something he never meant to do, and couldn't stop from happening.

I stood there for a long minute, the phone pressed to my chest like it might hold me together. But the weight was too much. I couldn't carry it anymore.

By the time I made it to my apartment, I was crying openly. Quietly at first, then louder—the kind of cry that comes from a place so deep you don't even know how to stop it.

And he wasn't there.

But someone was.

Cassian. Leaning against the front door like he'd been waiting for me forever. Just him.

When he saw me, he didn't say a word. He just opened his arms and caught me like I was something precious. Like I wasn't broken glass, but something whole that just needed to be held.

He pulled me into his chest, wrapped his arms around me so tight I almost believed the world wasn't falling apart.

"He thinks he ruined you," he said quietly, his voice rough with something unspoken. "That's why he's not here himself."

I pulled back, blinking through the blur. "He's right."

Cassian wiped a tear from my cheek with his thumb. "Then ruin him back," he said, almost gently. "He'd let you."

"I don't want to," I whispered. "That's the issue."

He nodded slowly, like he already knew. Like maybe he'd also loved once in a way that hurt like this too.

"It's not him I'm scared of anymore," I added, barely above a whisper. "It's what loving him might cost me."

Cassian's gaze softened, the usual spark in his eyes tempered with quiet understanding. "The good ones always cost the most."

I stared at the keys in my hand, at the door in front of me, and wondered what it meant to open a life again—after all the locks had been changed.

It wasn't until the quiet hours of the night that my apartment truly felt empty.

The kind of empty that had nothing to do with space and everything to do with silence. The kind of silence that hummed between your ribs like an ache that wouldn't speak out loud.

I lay curled on my couch, a blanket twisted around me, still in my scrubs though I couldn't remember when I'd kicked off my shoes. The TV was on, some mindless sitcom playing, but I hadn't heard a single word.

My phone lay on the coffee table. I stared at it like it might blink first.

I didn't pick it up. Not right away.

But after an hour of pretending I wasn't waiting for it to ring, for him to call, even though I'd ended the last call we had—I reached for it with a sigh.

The screen lit up. No new messages. I opened our thread anyway.

His name still sat at the top. Rhys <3

Stark and elegant and sharp like the memory of his hands on my skin. Like the way he used to say "bunny" in that voice that felt like velvet over bruises.

I scrolled through dozens of messages.

Some recent, short texts about coffee orders, books, ridiculous Cassian quotes he thought I'd laugh at. Some older, like the first time he texted me.

I could feel the press of tears at the back of my throat again.

I clicked the text box at the bottom. Let my fingers hover over the keyboard.

Me - I miss you.

Deleted it.

Me - I didn't mean it—

Deleted that, too.

Typed nothing at all, just stared at the blinking cursor like it might say it all for me.

I locked the screen and tossed the phone back onto the table, curling deeper into myself like I could hide from the truth.

I didn't call him. Not that night.

But I dreamed of him, of his voice, low and ruined. Of the way he looked at me like I was the only thing in the room that mattered.

And in the dream, he didn't say "hate me."

He said, "come home bunny."

A/n - Omg, Ianthe a villain in this? Who would have thought, right?

I promise, this is the last little sprinkle of drama before we wrap things up (we're so close now, I swear!) sometimes the story just demands it, but I truly hope it's been worth the rollercoaster!!

Also, shoutout to Rhys, Azriel and Cassian—three kinda scary overgrown bats helping get breakfast ready before a long-ass shift? Sign me up :))

Thank you for reading <3

The Ruin tag list - @queenoffeysand @sttvrdustt @wedonttalkaboutvoldemort @coeurdeveea @maltemp @sillyfreakfanparty @justtryingtosurvive02 @bosssliv5g @hyruledemigod20 @sstrohma @zoeisdreaming6 @shellsarepretty @moonlitlavenders @sherlockholmes08 @lou-diaries @acourtofbatboydreams @talesofadragon @blueeclipsepaperstudent @coffeebooksrain18 @lilah-asteria @bbontenswhhore @thisfireheart @sheblogs

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