#In fact he sort of projects onto her and makes her the target of most of his frustrations towards his dad

[thyandrawrites]

idk if youll answer this since its abt bnha but is there any difference in how you see/writes dabi after his reveal? (pls ignore this ask if this subject doesnt interest you anymore 😓)

Yeah, the reveal definitely shifted my perspective on a couple of things, and widened my understanding of why he acts and reacts to things and people the way he does. Pre reveal the most popular fanon theory was that he hated his dad for the harsh training he endured, and snapped for that abuse, but in reality his dynamic with Enji and Rei was a lot more complex and fucked up, just a lot less straightforwardly than we expected. I have dozens of posts on this in my meta tags so feel free to delve in there if that's a topic you're interested in. Some of it filed under Dabi's tag, some under Enji's. Just check my meta index if you have a couple of hours to waste lmao. I have written A Lot about dabert

But if you're asking me strictly how I write him in fics post-reveal... Well, I haven't done much of that tbh. Besides what's already on my ao3, I have two more fics in my wip folder and I can't deny my characterization evolved, especially when I compare that to Butterfly Effect's. I wouldn't say there's that huge a gap he feels like a completely different character, but it's still there. Nothing like the difference between pre-reveal fanon dabi and post-reveal fanon dabi written by new fans tho

[dollypopup]

I think it's interesting to look at the 'Mr. Bridgerton' scene as a backdrop for the eventual mirror scene. Firstly, in the fact that I think we've kind of misinterpreted it.

So many people are of the mind that scene's purpose to 'drag' Colin, but really, that scene has 3 primary functions. The first is to inform Colin that Penelope is aware of what he said of her, thus opening the door to clearing the air between them and providing an avenue for which Colin can apologize. The second is to establish the ground that they are currently on: Penelope has given up on the dream of Colin Bridgerton, in particular the perfect prince that can do no wrong, and has made it clear to him. It also creates distance between them that they will bridge.

But the third, and to me the most wrapped up in the mirror and the inner workings of their relationship is that it reveals how Penelope feels about *herself*. It's not necessarily an echo of what the ton considers her as, after all, we have a lot of evidence indicating that, for all intents and purpose, people aren't *unkind* about her, but rather that they ignore her. Audience members recognize this as Penelope's own shyness being the cause, she is often sitting off on the sidelines or not really talking to much of anyone, in the books she's referred to as the 'one who doesn't speak', and her LW business takes her away from being a character in the action of the ton to a bystander, kind of a self-fulfilling prophecy of sorts that perpetuates itself. Pen felt unseen so she became LW to have some power, but then LW herself must remain unseen and Penelope continues to be by design of her own making.

No, I think what it really reveals is that Penelope has incredibly low personal self esteem. We as a fandom has lauded that scene as her dragging Colin, saying that he's cruel and calling him Mr. Bridgerton is absolutely meant to create distance between them, but I don't think she's dragging him.

Because the person she is *actually* dragging here. . .is herself. And it is a general theme in her life. In Whistledown. Aloud. Even with Marina, when she complimented her, she assumes that she's lying. When Edwina says she's wearing a pretty dress, Penelope puts herself down and doesn't believe her, even when the compliment is genuine. In truth, Portia is not seen as being particularly unkind to Penelope. At least, speaking as someone who's mum was *awful* about my size and weight and outfits, Portia is. . .overall rather mild. She's not KIND and loving, not by a long shot, but she's also not targeting Penelope only. She's plenty mean and critical to Prudence, too, even to the point where she foists her off to her own cousin as a pawn piece. Penelope has low self esteem because of a lot of reasons, she's bullied by Cressida (I think a lot of girls are, she was pretty mean even to Daphne in S1) and her family isn't very tender to her, and she's not being pursued at every turn, but part of it is also her own perpetuation.

Listen to what she says "Of course you would never court me" "I embarrass you" "I am the laughingstock of the the ton". She sees *herself* as an embarrassment. She puts *herself* down. Arguably, more so than the ton does. She's meaner to herself than anyone else is, aside from Cressida. And honestly? Looking at Colin's face there. . .he is HURT that she considers herself this way. That she's projecting that onto him. Yes, he's hurt that he hurt her, of course he is, he never wants to hurt her. And yes, he's ashamed that he said he wouldn't court her the way he did and that in doing so, he validated her fears that she is unloved and unwanted, but also because. . .she already feels that way about herself. She's felt that way for years. And it's painful to care about someone, to see them as wonderful, and realize. . .they don't feel the same about themselves at all. I don't think Colin is out here feeling so wounded over the fact that she called him cruel and won't refer to him by first name anymore, but that he's most hurt by what she says about herself.

Because he *doesn't* see her the way she accuses. She says she never expected him of all people to be so cruel, but he feels the same way. He never expected her to be so cruel to *herself*. He wants to go somewhere private, not because she is an embarrassment, but because he wants to have a private conversation with her. Maybe assure her. Maybe explain himself. Maybe hash it out. But god Luke Newton's acting. . .he is *aching* for her. And it feels like he's going to do those lessons not in atonement for what he said (thank god) but to genuinely help his friend who thinks badly of herself. To lift her up. It's not about him at all, not about earning forgiveness, but about elevating Penelope. And that's. . .fuck, I just find that's just so heart stoppingly beautiful.

You can see, in that scene, how much he cares about her. How deeply and genuinely he adores her as a person. And just how painful it is for him to know he has validated, whether on purpose or otherwise, how poorly she feels about herself. How low her self-confidence really is. She is giving him a glimpse into the cracks of her heart, and when he sees them, he wants to reach out with both hands and make it feel better. Make her feel better.

After she says 'even when I change my entire wardrobe', he looks so fucking crushed. So 'don't say that'. So 'you really believe that?'. So 'God, I hate that you think that way'.

Because regardless of it all, he does love her. It's not romantic yet. It's not sexual yet. But he genuinely, truly, from the bottom of his heart, thinks she's wonderful. That was evident even in the 'purpose' scene. Every time Penelope opens up and reveals a facet of herself, he likes it. He likes her barbs and her dreams, he likes talking to her. He likes her. And he feels awful that he hurt her. And he feels awful that she's hurting herself. He loves her. He wants her to love herself.

And that's where the mirror scene comes in. Because the mirror scene isn't about sex, not really. Not entirely, at least. The mirror scene is about *intimacy*. The mirror scene is about being seen. Not just her seeing him, or him seeing her, but for Penelope to see *herself*. In a way, through his eyes. Because hers are biased rather negatively toward herself, which is evidenced in the 'Goodnight Mr. Bridgerton' scene, and in so many little moments we've already gotten where she's literally looking down on herself, feeling down. She doesn't necessarily *like* what's in the mirror, but he does. Because he likes *her*. And he wants to show her that he does. Show her that he finds her beautiful and have her recognize that in herself.

The 'Goodnight Mr. Bridgerton' scene is about Penelope revealing how she sees herself. The mirror scene is about Colin showing her how *he* sees her. The Goodnight scene is about Penelope thinking she means nothing to him, that he thinks of her the way she thinks of herself, that this is how everyone thinks of her, and the mirror scene is a direct response to that: No, he doesn't. No, he doesn't think she's embarrassing. No, he doesn't think she's a laughingstock. No, he doesn't think she's unappealing. And he doesn't think she should, either.

And he's going to show her that. Not just tell her, but show her. The mirror scene is so often a focus on Penelope, so much of Polin is in Penelope's focus, but approaching it from Colin's perspective and his motivations is so fulfilling, too. It's a glimpse into them in conversation, and a demonstrate of how Colin loves her. How Colin loves in general, openly and earnestly and altruistically. How he encourages her to be braver and more confident in herself, bolstering her because he just likes her *that much*. How he finds the most fulfillment and satisfaction in caring aloud. The mirror scene is a demonstration of his heart in reflection.

When Luke Newton said the first word that came to mind with the word 'Mirror' was 'Exposed', he doesn't just mean physically. He means emotionally, too.

God this couple is so fucking good.

[lurksunderthebed]

Funnily enough i had a long ass convo with one of the dudebros that just decided to drop by and comment how Ghost and Soap are NOT GAY!!! on one of the comment's that initially didn't even mention anything about them like that other than saying "they could have been friends or something more like romantic", and this guy just lost it. Problem with them is they wanna latch onto their "role" models so desperately it threatens their masculinity when someone dares to read these characters as anything other than cis het man.

Bear with me it's gonna be one long ass essay; The need to gatekeep a certain character because their views don't aling with how the rest of us choose to interpret them because according to them, their view is a fact but ours that's not aligning with their bias is a headcanon, make it make sense. Saying and seething that "Ghost isn't GAY!!!" isn't a fact, that sounds like an agenda to me because seeing Ghost as a bi/pan anything else doesn't count in the "manly man" category for toxic dudebros because masculine men only are allowed to dominate and bang women, right? It just shows how simple minded and uneducated the lot of them really are. Cannot fathom man and a woman having a platonic bond without saying "yeah they're polygamous, that's a thing in military for men to have side bitches" whilst defending fiercely Ghost and Soap as being anything other than "bros" because they feel attacked.

Don't get me started on the whole double standard issue either; it's very hot and cute when Ghost threatens Milena but it's disgusting and no no for Ghost and Soap who literally have an established bond between them and clearly care for one another. Same goes for Valeria, they were ready to pair her with Soap just because it was a woman and a man. A man has to bang chicks lol/ This philosophy is so tiring and dumb that it just shows you how a cis het man actually sees women. And i'd go as far as to say it implies misogyny aswell. Take that as you will. But this issue is present in every sort of fandom whose target audience is mostly basement dwellers that rely on their mums for a brand new GPU.

I think the whole thing has to do with projection. When it comes to people who lash out and get ridiculously upset about these sorts of things, especially about a FICTIONAL character it's cause they view it as an attack on themselves.

Which is all sorts of sad, because we're not talking facts here or canonical events, it's about how those fans see themselves in their fav characters.

As I said earlier, you could read into people's sexualities all you want. Aside from Laswell hilariously enough, there isn't any definitive proof of het/gay/etc in any character in 141. If there was, you bet my overly analytical self would find it and make a note of it for Ghost or Soap.

There's arguably more proof on Ghost being queer than him being straight/het which is the funniest thing. The easiest read is him being just not interested in people as a whole, especially with how much he doesn't really interact with others personally (outside of Soap).

Personally, I think when it comes to those sorts of people it's best to just leave it be. No amount of actual factual basis or any sort of reason will change their minds. Because it's not the characters in question that is the issue, it's themselves as people that push their own agenda into it.

Again irony at its finest. For all the people out there upset at those pushing the "gay agenda" onto these characters, it's really themselves pushing their own values onto them. Realising this would require more self reflection than most of that vocal fanbase actually have.

[ponysoprano]

Mermaid IS cool as hell. She's student council president, does ballet, and loves the ocean.

IDK about the perfume tbh, it probably does smell but magically isn't overpowering. I don't think it's actual perfume in the toys though.

There are only proper 5 duos who need each other to transform, including MaCherie and Amour (although it actually was the initial premise of the franchise). Other than that there are a bunch of cures who are basically duos who may have special dual attacks and/or are particularly close to each other, but they aren't technically duos. You can usually tell which are true duos because because transformation sequences will have them interacting with each other instead of just having individual sequences spliced together. (Heartcatch and Suite are exceptions). Yes, true duos are screwed if separated. Sometimes the villains try to use this against them, though not often. It usually doesn't work out for the villain's who try, but it does result in some of my favorite moments in all of precure.

Cure Cosmo is a shapeshifting alien phantom thief cat from Planet Rainbow who also disguises herself as an idol to steal back the riches stolen from her people after an incident only she survived.

It depends on the season how much the fairies matter. On one end is Kururun from tropical rouge who is just the queen's pet and is there to be cute and marketable. On the other end, some fairies are full fledged team members. Sometimes a guide or mentor. Sometimes the fairies are god babies the cures have to raise. In some the fairies are the girls transformation devices. Often some sort of combination of the above.

I think with Happiness Charge it basically comes down to the fact that its one of the few seasons that has a focus on romance, a very large one at that in a franchise where the main appeal is usually on the relationships between girls, and the romance drama, like the plot, isn't really appealing. Partially because the plot basically is entirely predicated on one pathetic man who can't handle his own relationship drama. Unfortunately that man is also god and is the one recruiting precure to fix it. I don't exactly like that god of earth in HCh is basically a hot guy in his 20s who can't get his shit together and instead recruits teen girls, never explained why only teen girls, to wage war (many are imprisoned) and also he projects his relationship issues onto them by forbidding them from getting into relationships while they fight for him. Like yes the villains do target civilians so Precure fight for their sake, but its still ultimately his fault. Some people call him a creep, which I don't think is quite fair (he never goes after underaged girls, they just crush on him). But then again nothing he does really makes you care about him, respect him as a god worth worshiping, or understand why our main protag is crushing on him so hard. It also very clearly purposefully is meant to call back to super successful Heartcatch but generally speaking just does some of the best aspects of heartcatch poorly. Throw in an underdeveloped yellow, a pink whose actually engaging plot motivation is awkwardly dropped, baffling worldbuilding, and international cures who weren't designed tastefully... I could go on... and you've got one of the most disliked seasons of Precure. Seiji's pretty cool though and was the first step towards the first main male character 9 years later. Yuko may be underdeveloped but she's goofy. Hime's can be endearing and relatable. It's not completely without merit and it does have its fans but I only recommend it to people who like romantic drama, or Precure completionists.

Thank you anon!!! I am learning so much (also Cure Cosmo is an alien ?? I love her more with each passing moment)

[vrabbiit]

Hope this is okay to ask, but how do you think Freddy, Sun, and Moon would react to their S/O being scolded/talked down to by an angry patron/parent/etc to the point of tears? (Definitely not projecting bc a lady chewed me out over the phone not even an hour into my 8 hour shift and made me cry in front of my boss lol nope no way--)

ohhh boy i hope you're ok anon!!! but i can relate hard to this so i hope it makes you feel better! i ended up writing full on short-fics for this, whoops!

Warnings: Mentions of a panic attack (doesn't happen in the writing though!)

Glamrock Freddy |✧˖*°࿐ . . .

Freddy may be the pinnacle of politeness and good customer service, but even he has his limits. And this patron, from what he'd seen around the Pizzaplex, was pushing them as far as she could. He hesitated to use the word "Karen" (not that he necessarily understood the meme), but with the way she was admonishing the few human staff with barely a glance at the children she was dragging behind her, it would probably be an apt description. He'd seen her complain at the entrance staff for her having to queue like everyone else, heard her raise her voice when the food she'd snappily ordered "wasn't hot enough", and even witnessed her huff because her child wasn't allowed to jump the queue at Fazer Blast.

All of that, he could keep his composure through. If he gave the clearly exhausted workers a sympathetic word or glance through the day, that was just him being a good coworker.

His absolute limit came, however, when he saw the woman round on you. Simply walking through the Pizzaplex in uniform (even though he knew it was your lunch break) had painted a target on your back for the unpleasant parent, and he watched from a distance as she stalked up to you and tapped your shoulder much more harshly than necessary. He couldn't quite hear what you said, but before you could finish your sentence the sound of her shrill voice pierced his ears, interrupting you. Rude.

Your eyes widened slightly, and you shook your head, presumably trying to explain that whatever she wanted from you, you couldn't do, because you were of course on your break. Ms Karen didn't like that one bit, and her voice raised even more, even going so far as to jab at your chest with clear intention to point out your attire.

The following events happened so fast that you don't think you could have explained it if you tried. One second, you were getting talked down by possibly the most unpleasant patron you'd ever encountered. There was a tightness in your chest that hadn't been there before, and you felt your eyes well up even as you pushed them back with everything you could. The next, there was a blur of orange behind her shoulder and you watched as the very face of the franchise approached. There wasn't much room for expression on Freddy's face, being a robot and such, but you could tell he was not happy.

"Excuse me," he spoke, and you didn't miss the absence of any sort of "ma'am" or "miss" in his wording. "Is there a reason you're harassing a staff member on their break?" Straight to the point. The woman turned, clearly expecting to see a human she could unleash her venom onto, and she stopped in her tracks, taken aback by the idea of being confronted by a robot of all things. She started speaking, then cut herself off, before taking a second to compose herself.

"This employee," and she wrinkled her nose at the word, "just refused to show my children to the arcade," she huffed. Freddy gave you a look now that the woman's back was to you, eyes softening, and you quickly took a moment to wipe your eyes and catch your breath. You hadn't quite tipped over the edge into a panic attack, but it had been close.

"That is because they are on their break, and even if they weren't, taking care of your children is not their job." Back to addressing her, any sort of softness he'd shown you had vanished. He was being perfectly polite, using a matter-of-fact tone, but you could tell from his bluntness that he was mad. "They clearly weren't doing anything, though!" the woman protested, and if he could roll his eyes, you knew Freddy would have. He knew just as well as you that you'd been walking on the way to get your lunch.

"May I remind you," (and there was a definite pointed threat behind the politeness in his voice), "that parents are not to leave children under 13 unattended in the Pizzaplex. Any guardian found doing so will be prosecuted for child abandonment and asked to leave. It was in the entrance waiver you signed." Her kids were definitely not above the age of 10, and while you hardly believe that what Freddy was saying was actually a completely legal clause (or even one that was in the rules of the establishment), you knew for a fact that the woman had signed the waiver to get into the Pizzaplex without reading it.

She knew that too and froze. Then, without giving you a second glance, she turned and tugged her children away, mumbling about how "people don't understand how hard it is to be a mother of two boys," and "couldn't she have just a moment to herself.

As soon as she was gone, Freddy was back to his usual comforting self, taking your hand and guiding you out of the main atrium without a word. As soon as you were out of the public eye, you squeezed his hand and he turned to face you.

"Are you alright?" He moved to hold your shoulders, searching your face with worry. You nodded, although now that the situation was over you sagged slightly, exhaustion peeking through now the panic was gone.

"Yeah, I'm okay," you sighed, "I should've known better than to walk near her when everyone was already complaining about how she talked to people."

"That is not your fault," he admonished, although there was no harshness behind it. He pulled you into a hug, his arms around you helping you ground yourself back to normal. He waited until you were ready to pull back, and if it took longer than the "normal" time for a hug, he didn't complain. Soon, you were back to your regular self enough to joke.

"Y'know, her face, when she saw it was you talking to her, was priceless," you smiled, even if it was still weak. "I bet she never expected that she was going to get told off by Freddy Fazbear himself."

Freddy just chuckled, a sheepish sound even with his confidence. "I don't like telling off patrons, but she deserved it." You slipped out of his arms, brushing yourself off and catching a glimpse of your face in a glass surface nearby. Although your eyes were still red-rimmed, you'd managed to hold back the tears pretty well, and you didn't quite look as shell-shocked.

"Yeah, she did."

Sun and Moon |✧˖*°࿐ . . .

Since you started helping Sun in the Daycare, you've seen your fair share of... shall we say, stressed parents. Mostly, the kind of people who dropped their kids off at the Pizzaplex were the kind who worked all day or just those who had the money to pawn their kids off to someone else. You didn't complain, of course - it's good that kids had a place to come and play and learn formative skills, and Sun was an absolute angel with them all.

You noticed quickly, however, that people seemed to unanimously prefer talking to you over the Daycare Attendant, even though you were new. Some of them had even said to you, in hushed tones, that they were "so glad an actual person was making sure their kids were safe." To which you'd politely responded that Sun was fitted out with the most state-of-the-art security measures, and if anything was to happen, he would be more than capable of protecting the kids. Most accepted it, or at least stopped trying to bad-mouth them to you, sensing you didn't share their views, but one such parent did not get the hint.

It was the father of one of the little girls who spent a lot of time in the Daycare, and as he waited by the security desk for Sun to bring his daughter over, he expressed the usual sceptical sentiment to you. You responded, as usual, expecting the conversation to be over, but instead, he just huffed, eyeing you with a disdain you hadn't expected.

"You're just saying that because it does your job for you, though." He scoffed, not letting you get a word in before he continued. "Not everyone's hardworking, I get it, and it's so easy to sit and let these machines do all the work."

"Sir-" you started but were quickly interrupted.

"I just don't understand why you'd work in childcare if you're going to put those children in danger every single day. I'd quit if I were you." Even if they were untrue, the words cut deep. Is this what the parents thought of you? And why was he saying it as if it was your fault Sun existed?

Before you could even respond, you were saved by Sun skipping over, the man's child in tow. He didn't even respond to the Attendant's polite small talk, just giving you a dirty look and leading his daughter out of the Daycare. Sun turned to you, seemingly confused before they spotted your face.

"Sunshine, are you okay?"

You hadn't realised, but you'd been stuck shell-shocked for the past few seconds. You looked up at him, eyes wide before you shook your head.

"I think I just got called bad at my job."

The way he'd said it, so matter of fact, had surprisingly shaken you, and Sun watched with growing concern as you explained the conversation. When you finished, they quickly pulled you into a hug, a murmur of "Oh dear," accompanying his embrace. They pulled back after a second, studying your face and saying your name in a way that suggested they were very serious for once.

"Please listen to me. That man has no idea what he's talking about," Sun said, pausing to make sure you understood. "All of the kids love you, some even more than me!" You let out a weak laugh at that - it's true that some of the children had recently latched onto you, and it brought you a little bit back to yourself.

"I think..." you started, unsure of how to word what you were thinking. "I'm more upset that he thought you were dangerous."

"He's not entirely wrong," Sun commented, "Moon is ready to do some very bad things if they see him." Despite there being no semblance of a joke, you laugh anyway. Leaning your head into their chest, you relax as much as you can. While it'll take more than an insult to completely rock your confidence, you're still hurt at the idea that the parents you talk to so casually could turn on you that quick. Still, Sun doesn't say any more about it and you think that you've moved on.

The same cannot be said for Moon.

When the Daycare lights go off, you feel a shadow immediately.

"Hi Moon," you greet the other side of the Daycare Attendant, but something feels wrong.

"You're still bothered by that man," he says. It's not a question.

You sigh, pivoting to face the animatronic in the dark. "Sometimes, people say things that are cruel. We move on from it, but it doesn't mean they don't hurt still."

"It's not true."

"I know, Moon. I know." You know they're trying to help in their own way, and as you turn to finish tidying the security desk (the only source of light in the room beside Moon's eyes) he leans himself across you, pulling you back into their chest. He's comforting you, in his own weird way, and you resign yourself to the fact that the so-called "dangerous one" out of him and Sun is going to be extremely clingy until they are sure you're not upset anymore.

[slightlyrebelliouswriter23]

Lmao I can't stop thinking about how Jude- the most terrifying thing in Elfhame, was afraid of CARDAN. A scrawny little dude with a drinking problem and next to no muscle mass

sure, on the surface level, Jude is a big mean scary sword lady with enough anger to burn all your crops down during rainy season with one withering look. and Cardan is just 🧍🏻 in comparison. but i think it's important to note that there are a couple not so obvious reasons for this.

first, i think Jude is afraid of Cardan in the same way that she is afraid of all fae, as a monolith:

they possess magic that can make her do things against her will. which is scary when you have very little means of defending yourself against it. and then, when Cardan becomes the High King of Elfhame, he has a tremendous amount of power/magic at his disposal. which is terrifying to Jude, who thinks she is probably number one on Cardan's kill-list when the bargain between them ends.

they are intimidatingly beautiful–have you ever talked to someone who is just. aggressively attractive? and it's not even that you are sexually attracted to them. they're just so pretty you lose the capacity to form sentences. but we're not talking "imagine the most beautiful human" kind of beautiful here. the Folk are beyond that. they're bordering on the Uncanny Valley sort of etherealness that kickstarts the fight or flight response.

a lot of them openly hate mortals to the point of malicious antagonism, or even enslavement. which, for obvious reasons, paints a big ol' target on Jude's forehead.

second, i think Jude is afraid of Cardan because of what he represents. Cardan is the embodiment of emotion and desire for Jude. not only is his tail the physical manifestation of his own emotions, but Cardan himself is the physical manifestation of Jude's emotions.

Jude has always had to hide behind anger to survive in Faerie. she thinks she hates Cardan, and is able to hide behind that façade with a fair amount of success. until he's near. until they are forced to work together. then she discovers, to her dismay, that a big part of that hatred might stem from the fact that—much like ensorcellment can make her do something she doesn't want to do—Cardan makes her feel something she can't help but feel: desire for him.

Jude, who has so much ambition she could conquer kingdoms with it. Jude, who poisons herself a little every day so she can have that much more control over her own fate. Jude, who craves power and control. succumbing to something so unimportant as her desires. and later, of course, her love for Cardan.

so Cardan, with his very presence, challenges Jude.

emotions, unless they are angry ones, make her feel out of control. they make her feel weak. and as a fellow emotionally stunted individual, i can say with complete certainty that unfamiliar emotions, even good ones, can feel uncomfortable. they can feel like a threat.

Cardan also represents everything Jude wants but (thinks she) can't have.

she wants power–Cardan has power inherently.

she wants him–but she knows Cardan hates mortals, so she thinks she cannot have him.

she wants to be feared by the Folk—Cardan is feared by the Folk.

so a lot of her fear of Cardan might actually be a fear of her own failure or impotence in regards to accomplishing her endeavours. she projects this fear onto Cardan, and whether consciously or not, she feels as if he is the source of that fear instead of her own mind.

Jude wants all of these things that Cardan inherently has—and yet, if she can't control the way he makes her feel, he might be the very thing that keeps her from getting what she wants. i can imagine, for her, that is a frightening thought, indeed.

–Em 🖤🗡

more theories & analysis

[jortsaaaaaaart]

To Be Forgotten Amongst Friends chp1

Omega! Reader x avengers

Hello all! I revamped my story "ikaros" and this is the new story! Also the name is long rip.

Trigger warnings (later chapters mostly)- ptsd, noncon, kidnapping, human experimentation, Stockholm and lima syndrome

The following chapters will be posted on- https://archiveofourown.org/works/33890977     (seriously- may not post here that often cause i hate the tagging system- go check out ao3)

It's a beautiful day in New York and you're a terrible, no good, thief. 

You were considered New York’s very own Robin Hood. Two hundred ATM robberies in two years, the money flying out of the machines and into the hands of people who needed it. The banks, collectively, had lost over $300,000 from the ATMs alone. But of course, it wasn't just the ATMs. A rash of robberies had spread over the East coast. Most were digital, companies funneling their own money to offshore accounts that wanted nothing to do with U.S. intervention. The FBI were notified, then the CIA, and eventually- after a daring cyber attack against the DOD- SHIELD itself turned it's one eyed gaze onto you.

Nick Fury saw something the other agencies didn't. You had certain gifts that made your line of work incredibly easy. Whether they were natural mutations or some sort of superpower, they allowed you to break into some of the most secure networks known to man. He had almost found you when SHIELD fell and his resources vanished. After the dust cleared he was forced to start from scratch. Hunting you and the remnants of Hydra down at the same time wasn't easy, but, in a strange twist of fate, he found someone else that was searching for you too.

+++

New York was filled with so many people. Most of them were good, in your opinion. (Well, maybe half, actually.) You spent most of your off time working on "projects" or walking around the city. You had become a fixture at the local Bodega. Single omegas were extremely  rare, marked single omegas were almost unheard of. The mark gave you certain freedoms other omegas, sadly, didn't have. It drove away most potential suitors and the ones who were particularly bold would be given a taste of your powers. Once the burrow had gotten used to your presence they saw you as a generous person, but a secretive one. Someone who took no shit even with their designation. You gave to the community and different Omega rights groups in the area. After years of watching you quietly go about helping people you had been welcomed into the burrow's heart with open arms.

You loved helping people in your own way. You loved it just as much as you hated corporations and the police, but when you could make an ATM spew it's contents out into the poorest streets of Brooklyn or make Fox News send a million dollars to Planned Parenthood, you could have the best of both worlds.

At least, for a time. All good things had to end, right? That's what you told yourself as the redhead picked her way through the crowd towards you. 

Seeing an avenger in your neighborhood was an odd occurrence. It was a poorer part of town, untouched in the battle of New York, and too out of the way for any super villain origin stories. In fact, you seemed to be the only mutant in the entire block. You'd always thought, if someone was going to come for you, it would be a couple of FBI agents and not the fucking Black Widow. Your brain and heart went into overdrive as you tried to remember doing anything worth the avenger's time. But there was nothing. The DOD hack had been almost a year ago and all you did was release government files showing attacks on civilians overseas. It hardly seemed like an avengers worthy crime, especially when Black Widow herself had leaked government secrets before.

Any hope of her not not looking for you was dashed when her eyes locked onto yours. She tilted her head, asking a silent question. 

The burst of adrenaline sent you careening through the lunchtime crowds. You couldn't feel anyone on the rooftops but there was a large form blocking your path, trying to box you in. They were stronger and faster but you knew the environment. You ducked into Charlie's, your sneakers skidding on the asphalt as you took the sharp turn. The person behind the counter lazily looked up as you walked to the back. They knew you well enough to not care, they also weren't paid enough to care. The alley would open up into a busy side street. More people meant a better chance to blend in and get away. You were almost to the end when the door opened behind you. Black Widow and fucking Captain America stepped into the alley. For a moment the three of you stood in something akin to a standoff. 

You felt wildly undressed for this life-threatening situation.

"We just want to talk, (Y/N)" Captain America told you, hands raised. The unmistakable stink of an alpha radiated from the captain. You were momentarily thankful for your mark dulling its effect on you. Though, the blonde's scent was tinged with something hauntingly familiar. Something you didn't want to recognize.

Behind him, Black widow's free hand went to her ear. "Target is in the alley between 31st and 32nd," A twitch of your finger and the line went dead. Her hand dropped to the gun at her hip.

"I'm feeling pretty under equipped for this 'conversation'," You replied, slowly raising your hands as well, wondering if they could feel what you were doing. They didn't react and you slowly let your power seep from you.

Natasha was the first to react, drawing her gun and spinning around. Steve looked at her with confusion as her wide eyes scanned the alley as if she was seeing ghosts. She was afraid he realized, a cold feeling settling in his stomach. He moved towards her and you took off running. You felt him hesitate then take off after you, gaining on you with an embarrassingly low number of strides. You tried your powers again, stronger this time, but his focus was unwavering. He was almost to you now and you were running out of options. That’s when the alpha in him came out.

“Omega!” He snarled, “Stop!” Your feet slowed down immediately. It wasn’t as strong as your own alpha’s command would be, but the super soldier certainly commanded respect and obedience. You were forced to stand still, eyes burning holes in the asphalt, as the alpha’s footsteps grew closer. You really didn't want to do this but it looked like you had no choice. Your jaw clenched, and you spun around when his hand grabbed your arm. The blonde's eyes widened as you placed a palm to his chest. 

He barely had time to glance down at your hand before the electricity hit him.

The 1,000 volts you sent into him were supposed to stun him or send him flying, allowing you to escape. However, his muscles spasmed just a bit stronger than you intended. In an instant his grip crushed the bones in your arm and sent the two of you careening backwards into a brick wall. Natasha would find you a moment later, passed out on top of the super soldier, a sizable hole in the wall.

You woke up in an unfamiliar bed, a few blurry white shapes milled about in the corners of your vision. You couldn't remember how you got here, or where here was. All your senses seemed to be dulled. Your wrist was throbbing and each time you opened your eyes the room came in and out of focus. You closed your eyes, opting to ignore the funhouse effect and focus on the sounds around you. The beeping of the monitors, footsteps on concrete, and two low voices.

"She's alright, Buck, I promise." Steve's voice wavered in and out of your consciousness bringing with it the memory of how you got into this bed. "She did something to Nat and ran before I could explain. I wasn't expecting her powers to be so strong."

"I should have come with you," Another voice snarled. Your heart skipped a beat at the low growl. You knew that voice. It evoked a sickening combination of need and terror and you couldn't remember why. "She wouldn't have gotten hurt if I had. What idiot doesn't know omegas are fragile?!"

"It was an accident!" His voice raised slightly before sighing. "I know you're worried, but she's fine."

The scent you had smelled on Steve earlier swirled around the room. Metal and burning pine, it affected you just like the voice had, triggering both panic and yearning. You knew it somehow. The memory was there somewhere, tucked away where it couldn’t hurt you. Where it should have been forgotten.

The scent grew unbearably strong as he leaned over you, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. When he pulled back he wasn't expecting his eyes to catch yours. 

His expression softened as soon as he realized you were awake. "Omega," Bucky whispered reverently. Stormy blue eyes stared down at you with love and adoration, watching the color drain from your face. "Doll?" 

Somewhere in the back of your mind you could hear the panicked beeping of the machines and Steve trying to calm you down. But it didn't matter. All that you could feel was the need to get far, far, away from this man. You didn't know how you knew him but you knew he was dangerous. You knew he had hurt you. That's why, as he reached out to gently cup your face, you slapped his hand away. 

"Get away from me!" You gasped, voice breaking. You scooted back and tried to back up as far as possible. Your shaky legs barely held your weight as you slid off the bed. Pure terror coursed through your veins, it was the only thing keeping you on your feet. You found yourself pressed into the corner of the room while the men stared at you in shock. Steve and Bucky gaped like you had just told them the Germans had actually won WWII. Eyebrows knit together, blue eyes wide and frantic, Bucky looked like he was in emotional turmoil.

“(Y/N), doll, it’s okay. It’s me. It’s your alpha.” Bucky reached out to you carefully as a low purr rumbled from his chest.

You felt the purr relax you and dull your senses even more. It was nauseating. “I don’t have an alpha! And I don’t know who the hell you are!” You tried to shout and grit your teeth but the words came out in broken sobs, betraying your weakness. Who was this? Why was he the most terrifying thing you had ever seen?

Your teeth were bared at this point but the man kept coming towards you. The tunnel vision and rapid shallow breaths were the only warnings your body gave you as it reverted to its animalistic omega framework. Bucky watched as, in slow motion, your eyes went blank as your body gave out. 

+++

Your alpha held your body to his chest in disbelief. He had expected some shock at seeing him but this went far beyond his expectations. It had been over three years since he'd last seen you. Since he'd last been able to drink in your scent. He'd figured you might not recognize him at first. He had changed a lot over the years. No longer under Hydra's control his physical appearance, demeanor, and scent had changed. But your body should've known your alpha. 

"What was that?" Steve asked. "Why did she react like that when she has your mark?" The two alphas were on edge. Seeing a vulnerable omega drop triggered their protective instincts. Steve desperately wanted to take you and hold you close, ease you out of the drop. If the alpha holding you was anyone other than his closest friend and packmate he would have ripped you out of his grasp immediately. For now he'd have to hold himself back.

"She didn't remember me." Bucky nuzzled his head into your neck, nursing your mark softly. After a moment he pulled back and gazed at your unchanged features. He couldn't wake you from this drop that easily. He pressed in harder this time, teeth lining up with the scar perfectly, but there was still no change. No purr, command, or bite was waking you up.

"We should let her rest, Buck. The pain meds will wear off soon and we'll try again. . . Bring her to the den. She'll need to get used to everyone's scents sooner or later." Steve laid a hand on his friend's shoulder. It was a gentle but firm suggestion. He knew tensions were high, the den, with it's heavy curtains and plush blankets, would calm down his friend and the omega. With little argument the brunette lifted you up and carried you to the den. It was aptly named and extremely well constructed thanks to Stark. Curtains blocked off all light from the windows, mattresses were inlaid into the ground, and the temperature was always cool. It was one good thing about being in a pack with that narcissist, Bucky thought dryly.

Steve led them into a cozy corner of the room. The captain hummed happily as they moved the pillows and blankets, creating a makeshift nest for the three of them. The feeling of the omega pressing into his chest was addictive. He couldn't wait for you to remember your alpha.

The sooner you remembered your bond with Bucky the sooner the rest of the pack, Steve included, could court you.

[undercoveravenger]

Judgement Day

Pairing: Cato x Male!Reader

Requested: Yes

Original Request: “Hi! Can you write a super angsty story for a Cato x male reader? One where they both like one another but neither of them is making the first move. Cato is distant because he doesn’t know how to deal with these feelings and male reader takes this as Cato not liking him. Something happens that makes Cato super jealous and finally confesses to male reader.”

A/N: Y’all don’t understand HOW LONG I’ve been waiting for someone to ask me to write for Cato. Like, this man could choke me out with his biceps and I would probably thank him. Please ask me for more Hunger Games things when my requests open back up!

__________________________________________________________

Cato had always known that he was going to end up a tribute. He’d been raised to be a survivor and trained to be a winner. He’d fought and clawed his way through District Two’s Tribute Academy to earn the right to Volunteer when he turned eighteen uncontested, and he’d never once doubted his choice.

Never once, until he was on the train to the Capitol watching the videos of the other Districts’ Reapings and saw you for the first time. You hadn’t been from one of the Career Districts like Cato, but instead of looking weak or scared as you took your place on the stage the way many of the past tributes from most of the outlying districts always did, you merely looked resolute- acknowledging that you may not be coming back, but determined to go down fighting.

The resilient spark that he had seen in your eyes haunted him throughout the rest of the ride into the Capitol.

-------------------

Cato’s thoughts had been torn away from you when he was handed over to his stylists, but his attention had snapped right back to you when he saw you before the tribute parade. He’d known that he looked brutal in his golden armor and shining headdress, but somehow your stylists had made you look striking in a way that was both strong and beautiful and altogether different from him. 

They’d taken the color palette of autumn trees (Lumber was the specialty for District Seven, so that made sense) and cut miniscule leaves out of the fabric, sewing and weaving them together in a way that made the long cape that flowed from your shoulders look like they’d been caught a breeze right from the forest and bound it to you. In a strange way, Cato could almost relate to that thought. The rest of your outfit was a dusky brown with thick ridges and swirls marked into the fabric to make it look like the rough bark of a tree, leaving you and your District partner looking like the very embodiments of autumn as you stepped up into the carriage pulled by a pair of bay horses, their coats shining a brilliant crimson as the bright lights hit them.

Cato had had to drag his eyes away from you when his and Clove’s chariot lurched into motion.

---------------------

When training had started, Cato had already begun to suspect that he felt something for you, though he thought it was merely an attraction. He was proven wrong when his heart lurched in his chest when one of the trainers had you trapped in a wrestling hold, wrenching your feet up off the ground and slamming you backward onto the hard training mat.

He knew in the back of his mind that you weren’t in any real danger yet (the trainers were there to help you all stand a chance in the arena, not kill you before the Games even started after all), but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t positively fuming at the fact that someone had dared to put their hands on you. He shoved his way past the couple of other tributes that’d been lined up at the wrestling station, holding your gaze as you pushed yourself back to your feet. He looked back to the trainer in front of him when you shook out of your daze and made your way to the back of the line.

Cato grinned as the trainer lowered into a fighting stance in front of him, quickly launching himself into the match. He managed to duck out of the way of the trainer’s grappling pretty easily, having gone through much more intense training back in his District anyway. He kept his distance when he could, keen azure eyes waiting for any opening- there. 

He moved immediately upon realizing that the trainer was favoring his left leg, moving quickly to knock him off balance and then throwing him hard to the mat, pinning him face-down against the stiff plastic. Cato let a self-satisfied grin slip onto his face as he moved to get off of the trainer, the corners of his lips twitching up ever higher as he met your awed (e/c) eyes and suddenly he found himself hoping that the line between the two of you and the mat never moved again.

“That was incredible,” you told Cato as he came to stand behind you in the line and the blond had to fight back a smile at the fact that you were speaking to him for the first time.

“If you thought that was impressive, you should see what I can do with a sword.” He winced internally, knowing that while that sort of thing mattered where he was from, you probably wouldn’t find it nearly as awe-inspiring. You’d probably just be afraid of him.

You just chuckled and Cato’s hope was restored. “Well, no offense, but I’d just as soon not be on the other end of a blade from you.”

Cato laughed, a little relieved that you hadn’t taken his thoughtless remark as a threat. “That’s probably a good idea,” he grinned. “Really though, I’m not too bad. It’s Clove you’ve gotta watch out for,” he nodded toward his District partner, wincing when one of the throwing knives she was using struck the target with deadly precision.

“Thanks for the advice,” you muttered, eyes wide as you watched her throw again from across the room.

Cato opened his mouth, struggling to come up with something to say. “Uh, what about you?”

“What about me?” You asked, raising an eyebrow as you looked up at the blond.

He shrugged, looking away sheepishly and hoping you couldn’t see the ghost of a blush forming on his cheeks, “What’re you good at? Clove’s got her knives and I’ve got swords and spears. What’s your thing?”

Your brows furrowed as you looked away, clearly deep in thought. You brightened, grinning at him as you cocked your head toward the throwing station. Cato watched curiously as you picked up a throwing axe, tossing it idly between your hands. “It’s a little different the way we do it back in District Seven, but it’s a good way to have some fun once the work day is over.” He watched as you pulled back, the axe turning head over handle as you released it, the sharp end of the head sinking deep into the target with a loud thud, nearly as precisely as his District partner.

“Holy shit, that was cool,” he murmured, smug satisfaction settling in his chest as you flushed at the praise. “What else do they teach you out there in the woods?” he prodded, hoping you’d open up about yourself now that he’d gotten you talking.

You opened your mouth to speak, but cut yourself off as the bell to signal the end of the training day chimed. “Ask me tomorrow and find out.”

--------------------

Just as you’d asked, Cato met up with you as soon as you made your way down into the training room the next morning and you showed him many of the other things that growing up in District Seven had taught you. In exchange, he helped train you in a few different methods of hand-to-hand combat.

With all the time the two of you were spending together, it was no wonder that he’d grown quite fond of you, something that he’d struggled to hide, even during his televised interview.

Caesar Flickerman, dressed this year in a gaudy shade of blue, had shaken his hand warmly and guided him to sit in one of the chairs situated before the massive audience. A few minutes of meaningless banter passed before Caesar finally asked a question that threw Cato for a loop. “So,” he had started, wide blue eyes fixed on the blond and hands clasped in front of him, “Is there anyone that’ll be in the Arena that makes you nervous?”

Retrospectively, he knew that Caesar had been asking whether there was anyone he was worried about facing, but in that moment the only face that came to mind was yours. “(M/N),” he’d answered reflexively, scrambling to backtrack as soon as your name had left his lips. “The boy from District Seven, I mean. We’ve spent some time together during training. He’s good; he’ll put up a good fight in the Arena, no matter who he’s up against.”

Caesar had caught on to his hesitation and, in true interviewer fashion, had to probe further. “You’ve spent time together?”

Cato schooled his expression back into the nonchalance that his mentors had wanted him to show, forcing himself back to the effortless confidence he was meant to exude. “We talked. Sparred some. He showed me some things he knew and I showed him some that I did.” He forced himself to laugh, “Of course, I still have plenty of tricks up my sleeve, so it’ll still be a hell of a show.”

Caesar had laughed, making a few more jokes to the audience and shaking his hand again for the innumerable cameras before dismissing him.

----------------------

Cato forced himself to sit through the next few Districts’ interviews with relative indifference, but then it was your turn and Cato had to force himself not to visibly perk up, though his eyes remained fixed on you. 

Caesar greeted you the same way he had the rest of the tributes and guided you back to the interviewee’s chair, setting into his wheel of questions easily. Cato had nearly tuned out your interview entirely when one question in particular caught his attention. “Is there anyone special waiting for you back home?” Caesar had asked, leaning forward like he was expecting some juicy gossip. “A handsome boy like you must have a girlfriend waiting for you, right?”

You’d flushed, the brilliant red of your embarrassed blush bright enough to even be seen on the huge screens the interview was being projected up on. “No, uh, no girlfriend.”

“Seriously?” Caesar had asked disbelievingly. “Surely, there must be a girl-”

“No,” You’d protested, raising your hands defensively, “I’m actually, um,” you’d turned your gaze to your lap so you could avoid his eyes, “I’m attracted to boys.”

Caesar let out a noise of understanding, sitting back in his chair and shooting the audience a knowing look. “If that’s the case, allow me to revise my question, is there anyone back home that you’re interested in?’

“Back home? No,” you shook your head, offering Caesar a polite smile. Cato could tell that Caesar had been about to push you for more details when the buzzer went off, signaling that they had run out of time to question you. The interviewer looked slightly off-put, but he had to abide by the rules so he shook your hand for the cameras and sent you off.

Something about your interview had left a bad taste in Cato’s mouth, so as soon as you’d retaken your place in line and your District partner had made her way up onto the stage Cato found himself storming down the line of tributes until he reached you, grabbing the front of your shirt and dragging you close enough that, though it looked like he was snarling an insult at you to anyone else, only you could hear him asking you to meet him on the roof that night. When you gave him a barely perceptible nod, he released you, shoving hard on your shoulders for show before making his way back to his place, a frustrated grimace on his face.

------------------------

The interviews ended late, but the Capitol was still in an uproar even later into the night when you finally made your way up into the rooftop garden where Cato had been waiting for you. He turned to face you as soon as the elevators slid open, azure eyes reflecting the lights of the city as you came to stand beside him, looking out over the city.

He was quiet for a long moment as he stared out over the horizon, but eventually forced himself to speak. “I don’t want to be here,” he said finally, chancing a look over at you. “I thought I did. I mean, I Volunteered and everything, but it just didn’t feel real until now.”

“What changed?” you asked.

Cato wasn’t really sure that he knew the answer until he thought back to the way he felt after your interview. The burning ache that your words had left in his chest had been jealousy and the way he hadn’t been able to take his mind off of you since he’d first seen the recording of your Reaping had been far more than just an attraction. Finally, like the sun peeking out of the clouds after a heavy rain, the answer dawned on him. “I did.” He bit out a laugh, “I met someone, and it made me realize how much the Games were going to take from me before I even realized what I was going to lose.”

“Clove is a lucky girl,” you mused, taking a seat near the railing around the edge of the roof. “Or is it that girl from Twelve? You might have to compete with that bakery boy for her, but you seem like you’d be more her type than him anyway…”

Cato turned to look at you curiously, “It’s not a girl.”

You seemed surprised, but you were quick to shrug it off. “Then maybe you’re after the bakery boy yourself, then? Or what’s-his-name from One?”

“Nope,” Cato hummed, grinning a little as he dropped down to sit next to you. He remained quiet for a moment, clearly entertained by the way you were seemingly running through the list of other tributes in your head. “Y’know,” he started after a moment, “It would be a lot easier for me to tell you that I have feelings for you if you were to stop guessing every other tribute.”

His words seemed to stop you in your tracks and he couldn’t stop the grin that threatened to take over his features as you stared back at him in surprise, eyes wide and mouth slightly open, like you’d been about to suggest another name. “M-me?” you forced out eventually.

Cato laughed, nodding. “Sorry, I made it weird, didn’t I?” He huffed, turning his attention back to the galaxy of lights spread out below you, “I just-” he shrugged, “I didn’t want to go into the Arena tomorrow without telling you how I felt. You don’t have to worry about saying no; it’s not going to make me target you or anything. I’ve already asked the rest of my alliance to leave you alone, so you don’t really have us to worry about.”

“What if I wasn’t going to tell you no?” Your voice was steady, even and contemplative, even though what you were talking about could give the both of you a major Achilles heel in the Arena in just a few hours.

Cato jerked around to face you, visibly stunned by your words. “What?!”

“What if I liked you back?” you prompted, turning to meet his gaze. “Would it change anything anyway? We’re from two different Districts; we’ve got a worse chance than the wanna-be lovers from Twelve.”

Cato sighed; he knew that you had a point. No matter how much you liked one another, you were still going to be thrown into the Arena and be expected to kill each other. “I don’t care,” he said finally, determined blue eyes meeting yours, “I don’t care if I only get a few days or a few hours. I just want to be with you, even if I only get a little while.”

You looked torn and Cato couldn’t blame you. On the one hand, being able to be with someone who liked you a lot would be great, but it would hurt more when one of you was killed in the Arena, but forcing yourself to stay away from the person that held your heart? Cato was sure the not-knowing would kill him.

After a moment, you nodded and Cato felt the weight in his chest that’d been dragging at him lighten, if only a little. You scooted closer to him, letting him wrap his arms around you and press a kiss to the top of your head before turning back to watch the lights of the city before you again.

Cato knew that there was no way he could promise you forever, not when you were about to get thrown headlong into a bloodbath, but he could promise you that he would be here to hold you in his arms until the sun began to rise and that, even as the canons sounded to start the Seventy-Fourth Annual Hunger Games, he would be praying for a miracle that would allow him to stay with you.

[starry-sky-stuff]

Sorting the Six of Crows Duology

Brief overview of @sortinghatchats system, there are Primaries, the why, and Secondaries, the how.

Spoiler warning for the Six of Crows Duology.

Cut for length.

Kaz Brekker is a complicated sorting. He’s constantly putting on a performance and projecting a certain version of himself to others, that he sometimes seems to fall for this himself. Even though he’s the planner of the group, I think he’s actually a Snake Secondary. He likes dressing up and pretending to be someone else too much and his plans usually involve him manipulating someone. In the beginning of Crooked Kingdom, we see him so easily put on a different persona that Cornelius Smeet doesn’t realise this is the exact same man who dealt him cards only a few hours earlier. There is definitely a very efficient Bird Secondary Model. Kaz makes plans, he has back-ups and tools hidden away. The uniforms he uses that are actually theatre costumes, and even Wylan himself is an ace up Kaz’s sleeve. But ultimately, he’s a Snake Secondary who has no problem adjusting his plan when it fails, where a Bird Secondary would struggle more. Kaz spends most of his time in his neutral state, which he almost uses as a weapon. He maybe even has a neutral state model on top of his Snake Secondary. Kaz is constantly acting like he doesn’t care because that’s what he wants everyone to believe.

Part of Kaz’s secondary bleeds into his primary in that he wants you to believe he’s a completely burned Snake Primary. He wants to believe he’s a completely burned Snake Primary that cares for no one but himself. He’s definitely a Loyalist. He treats Inej’s idealism with too much cynicism to be an Idealist. Over the series he unburns as he begins to admit he cares for the other crows. The question is this a Snake Primary opening up his circle or a Badger Primary getting attached to a group. I’m leaning towards Snake Primary. He isn’t affected enough by the dissolution of the crew at the end of the series to be a Badger. And so many of his ploys are reliant on people being attached to others and love that I think he’s a Snake Primary who expects other people to have attachments. His genuine surprise at Jan van Eck’s treatment of Wylan, and his using Pekka Rollins son to threaten him all point to a Snake Primary mindset. So he’s a Burned Snake Primary who also puts on a performance of a Burned Snake Primary.

Jesper Fahey, who never makes a plan and loves when bullets start flying because in danger is when he works best, is definitely an improvisational secondary. Charming and quick-witted, he has a Snake Secondary Model, maybe even only performance because it really falls down when compared to Kaz’s actual Snake Secondary. Jesper’s someone who just wants to shoot his way out of everything. He could not be more Lion Secondary. He also has a complicated relationship with his Snake Secondary Model, which I think he developed because of his father pressuring him to hide his Grisha abilities. So, for most of the story his Lion Secondary, which wants to be himself, is in conflict with his Snake Secondary Model.

Jesper’s primary is harder for me to decipher. If he’s an Idealist, he isn’t one who ever expresses a moral quandary with what the crows do over the series, unlike some of the other characters. But if he’s a Loyalist, he didn’t feel bad about lying to his father and pretending to be studying at university. Although he did feel guilty about his betrayal leading to Inej almost getting killed, not to the degree I would expect of a Snake Primary. I would have to say I think he’s an immature Lion Primary, who doesn’t really care about anything but his own needs at the start and then grows into being more mature.

Inej Ghafa’s been through absolute hell and still kept her faith both in religion and in humanity. She didn’t hang onto it through human connections or communities, and she doesn’t seem to have any strong attachments to individuals or to the group of the Crows. That makes her an Idealist. I’m inclined to say she’s a Bird Primary. Her morality just seems very chosen to me. Inej chooses to keep hold of her faith and to believe in things bigger than herself. Her flashbacks often include teachings she adopted from her past that she’s adapted to her current circumstances. Killing for example. She needs to rationalise it out and justify it in a way I don’t think a Lion Primary would find as necessary.

Inej is the Wraith. She’s the spy, the one who gathers information. If this were Kaz’s role, he’d probably dress up and pretend to be someone else to get close to his target. But Inej waits in the shadows, using the skills she learnt from her childhood. This could be a Badger Secondary relying on hard work, but her knives strike me as a Bird’s tools.

Wylan van Eck, the merchling rejected by his father and forced to fend for himself in the Barrel, is not a Loyalist. A Snake or Badger Primary would have been harder hit by his father casting him out from the only life he’s ever known. That would’ve been a betrayal they would’ve have struggled to get over. Wylan does struggle, but he’s far more willing to stand on his own. He doesn’t try to find a people or a community, and gets pulled into the crows not on his own accord. With nothing to indicate a system, I’m going to go with Lion Secondary, one that progresses over the series. Wylan starts off with very strong morals and ideas of what’s right and wrong, which changes as he faces the reality of the Barrel and he becomes less idealistic. Yet, he never restructures his beliefs in the way a Bird Primary would. He’s got a particularly strong Lion Primary too, strong enough to stand up to Kaz multiple times, and one I think Jesper admires.

For his secondary, I’m torn between Bird or Snake Secondary. He’s the demo man and his main role in the plot is using his previous knowledge and skills. That would probably indicate Bird Secondary. He’s also a little bit more concerned with having a plan than some of the other characters who are better at rolling with the punches. The main reason I leant towards Snake Secondary is because I think Wylan’s a mirror for Kaz and certainly someone Kaz sees himself in. He uses Snake Secondary in Crooked Kingdom. Pretending to be Kuwei doesn’t weigh on him as much as it would weigh on a Lion Secondary, and part of his role at the end is to put on a performance. I like to think he’s developing his Snake Secondary Model under Kaz, and probably isn’t thrilled about it.

Matthias Helvar’s journey is the classic character arc of a Badger Primary who expands their definition of ‘human’. When he starts the series he has completely dehumanised Grisha under the teachings of the drüskelle. Nina points out the hypocrisy of him valuing human life and being part of an organisation that hunts Grisha and his response is that Grisha are not humans. Once he meets Nina he starts to change his opinion, and over the series he begins to realise that Grisha are also human. Matthias is usually the one who’s thinking about the greater good. When he and Nina agree to kill Bo Yul-Bayur it’s because of the danger he poses to the wider world. And it’s Matthias who ultimately decides not to kill Kuwei. Why? Because he’s one of “us”. Matthias was vulnerable to Jarl Brum and the drüskelle teaching because he desired a group and a community, and he finds this in the crows. There’s an argument for a Bird Primary that learns his previous system is wrong and adopts a new system, but I think Badger makes more sense. Noble Matthias whose main role is as the muscle is a straightforward Lion Secondary.

Nina Helnik is the quintessential Snake Secondary. Her main role in the plot is to be the decoy or the charmer. Before that she was a spy in the army, and that’s the role that fits her best. She switches from persona to persona, playing different characters with ease. Unlike Kaz, Nina rarely uses her neutral state, and delights in her playful, charismatic Snake Secondary.

Nina’s primary is less immediately clear. The fact that she stayed in Ketterdam after Mathias’ arrest and didn’t return to Ravka would probably indicate she’s a Loyalist. An Idealist would at least feel some guilt for not returning to their country and their cause, but Nina puts Mathias above Ravka. Unlike Matthias, Nina doesn’t necessarily dehumanise the drüskelle and doesn’t need a group. If she were a Badger Primary she would probably have more of a community in Ketterdam, but she seemed to have bonded with the crows as individuals. That would mean Snake Primary. Interestingly enough, Nina has the same sorting as Kaz. I think this is the reason that whilst Nina doesn’t necessarily like Kaz she respects him and he her. They both know how the other works and understands how each thinks.

In summary:

Kaz: Snake Primary/Snake Secondary, Bird Secondary Model, Snake Primary Performance

Jesper: Lion Primary/Lion Secondary, Snake Secondary Model

Inej: Bird Primary/Bird Secondary

Wylan: Lion Primary/Bird or Snake Secondary

Matthias: Badger Primary/Lion Secondary

Nina: Snake Primary/Snake Secondary

[florbelles]

13~17 for Lyra and John?

thank you legend, i am once again sorry for my response time on this rip

xiii. what is their go-to for making a partner feel loved?

— this is something that's actually incredibly difficult for her; the enormity of it is something that nothing feels adequate to express. while she's very physically demonstrative, one of her greatest fears — particularly after he's gone — is that she never expressed it the right way, that he never understood, not really. she desperately hopes he does. she tells him, a thousand times, she is sorry for the way she is, even knowing that he loves her for it, even knowing that he knows what he chose. ( he did, of course, he tells her as much, but it still haunts her ).

she tries to makes him feel loved by what makes her feel loved; making sure he knows she sees him, understands him, accepts him completely and unconditionally. he doesn't need to be anyone else for her; he doesn't need to prove anything to her. she shows him she loves him by letting him simply be, by proving with time that she isn’t going anywhere, that she’s all in.

she shows him love the only ways she knows how. she's most comfortable expressing herself with her body, that she can give him, that she can do and do well ( sexually, yes, of course, but perhaps more pertinently — neither of them have an uncomplicated relationship or history with sex, elaborated on below under xv — with nonsexual signs of affection — running her thumb over his, nuzzling him when she comes up behind him, pressing her lips to his neck ). she’s always touching him if she’s near him. she’s extremely affectionate, both physically and verbally, especially in the mornings and at night when they’re lying limbs-twined.

the simplest answer is, however, synonymous with the answer to xv below; she expresses her love through her trust and willingness to render herself wholly vulnerable. she expresses it through quiet, subtle intimacies that might not be immediately evident to anyone who doesn’t know her ( it’s been stated many times before, but to lyra, the use of a first name and familiar language is the greatest sign of intimacy she can verbally give — her enemies are darling, her husband is john ). “hi, john” is her “i love you;” “i’m so glad it’s you” is her “i love you.”

xiv. what makes them feel loved? would they build up the courage to ask for it?

— the small efforts he makes to meet her at her level. when he says “you love me.” when he manages to drag his ass out of bed for her in the morning to watch the sunrise even though they’re on two hours and he needs his beauty sleep. she doesn't expect accommodation. she doesn't expect anything. one of her most prevailing thoughts early in their relationship is that it would have been enough for him to simply see and understand her; she would not have asked him not to hate her, she does not ask him not to forsake her, but he chose not to. he gave her acceptance. he gave her love. she would never in a thousand years ask for it.

for john, it’s that she lights up when she's around him — is truly simply that happy just to see him and be near him without needing or expecting anything from him, which isn’t something he’s necessarily had in his life from figures who aren’t obligated either by familial bonds or being his subordinates. she could not disguise it even if she wished. he will always make her flush. he will always make her stomach drop and her teeth flash and her eyes gleam. it is simply the way it is: it is incredibly fortunate they are not seen together by anyone outside of the project, because they would have known immediately. ( they do know immediately, when the time comes, before the end of everything ).

xv. what, for them, constitutes a level of intimacy that they would only rarely share with someone? this can be physical, emotional, etc.

— vulnerability, both emotional and physical.* quite literally, he is the only partner she's ever had that she has slept with, excepting some of her earliest girlfriends, generally bunkmates at school ( “i have never slept with a man in all my life!” is a favored gag of hers ). he is also the only partner with whom she hasn't kept her shoes or knives or some means of defense on her person ( john would argue the post-coital teeth and scratch marks he permanently wears make her true defenselessness sat any given time debatable, but it's the thought that counts! ).

( * for the sake of simplicity, this excludes all intimacy in relation to the project; while it’s obviously a major part of their relationship and a shared cause/belief system that deepens their bond, it’s complicated by the fact she would have joined the project and undergone those processes with or without him, whether or not they were lovers )

physical intimacy is, at first glance, something that is decisively not something only rarely shared, given that they both have hundreds of past sexual partners; they both have a complicated past with sex and their own respective baggage. john obviously has a history of self-medication and addiction that’s bound up with his demons and self-loathing; for lyra it's never been a particular vice — she has absolutely also used it to self-medicate in the past, usually as a way to blow off steam when her blood is running hot in a potentially more lethal direction, but it’s never been an instrument of self-destruction — an d is instead primarily is burdened with the fact that she used her sexuality to seduce targets; it's something she weaponized and exploited, so there are always going to be certain situations or circumstances she dislikes seeing john in ( she's reluctant to the prospect of restraining or binding him, for example, since she would use restraints on men she seduced with the intention of intimidating or killing them ). they both have associations they don't want to spill over onto the other.

having said that, the fact of that allows them a type of intimacy that might not be immediately evident to anyone else; she makes sure he knows he doesn't have to fuck her to hold her, he doesn't need to use his body to have that familiarity with her ( given that this is previously unexplored territory for the both of them, her saying so goes over about as well as can be expected — pardon him, he didn’t realize sex with him was such a fucking chore, sorry he is so sexually revolting, don’t do him any favors! — but they get there ).

sex is obviously still a big part of their relationship, and not one that john particularly feels the need to repent, since they’re married in all but name almost immediately and are married in fact within six weeks and otherwise has little difficulty john-justifying ( johnstifying, if you will ) it to himself ( she’s been entrusted to me, i’m bringing her closer to the project, she’s meant for me anyway, god brought her to me, this isn’t lust, she said so herself, this is a sanctioned union ), and she immediately casts off any notions of seducing or manipulating him as means of insinuating herself into the project’s protection ( it’s for this reason she stalls joining; she intends to right away, she believes joseph and desperately wants to believe that this is the reason and purpose for everything in her life up to this point, done both by and to her, but she flatly refuses until she can prove her complete commitment and good faith upfront, an opportunity afforded to her by the camera crew’s fortuitous arrival ) — this is also why she cuts off their first encounter and flees the ranch. she will never use her sexuality against him. in that sense, sex as a form of intimacy is reserved for each other.

( this is, in fact, how she knows she loves him; for all of her extensive sexual history, she has never actually wanted someone — not just release with them, not just a physical attraction to them — she is in fact unsettled on whether or not she is attracted to john physically; he's the most beautiful creature alive to her, but that's because he's him, she loves his nose because it's his nose, she loves his eyes because they're his eyes, his skin because it’s his skin — but actually him. she knew she had to have him. )

xvi. if they had the ability to just spend free time with their partner, what would they do? would they go out or stay inside?

— stay in ( not necessarily literally within the confines of their home, but within their own space ). lyra will probably coax him outside at some point because she doesn't feel right if she's indoors all day, regardless of the weather — no, the first seven years of the collapse are not looking well for her, thank you — but they won't necessarily stray from each other's companionship. if it's a day off, joseph is probably giving them space ( this is also his day off from their shared existence, how wonderful to be able to attend to the rest of the flock without worrying about what problems they're causing on purpose ), so while they'll occasionally have the company of one of their family members, it's more likely to simply be the two of them, possibly with the company of some of their closest inner-circle ( shaggy, holly, shaggy’s brother matthew, a few of their select chosen who are assigned to the ranch ) in the evening if lyra decides she wants a bonfire. otherwise, they take full advantage of their ability to absolutely nothing but laze around and talk and make love.

xvii. under what circumstances would they want to be left alone by their partner?

— this almost never happens, since they’re more inclined towards separation anxiety than a need for space, but lyra is the most likely to want it when she needs to sort out her mental state or let her fuse burn down ( like the time she locked herself in the shower to cry for an hour because he loved her or if they’re in an especially heated argument and she needs to clear her head before she says or does something she’ll regret). she rarely does so, however; she’s aware that from his perspective her walking out on him, no matter how temporary or how rationally he knows she’s coming back, exacerbates his angst and triggers his insecurities.

[runrundoyourstuff]

Redirection

(Avatar: the Last Airbender one-shot, rated: T, 2,015 words)

cn: for implied/referenced child abuse

--

He’s not explicitly invited to the Agni Kai, but no one attempts to hide it from him—though in retrospect, long after, once he finally has time to process, this fact will strike him as odd. Wouldn’t someone have expected him to protest, had he known? But then only Azula knew the depths of his ambivalence in Ba Sing Se, and had apparently elected to keep it hidden in her sleeves like so many of her plots, no doubt to brandish as a secret weapon should the need present itself.

In any case, when Zuko does hear of the duel, he must convince himself to attend. All the royals—(all the free royals)—will be there, after all. It’s an honor. The nobles in his father’s court would be suspicious if he weren’t present. And besides, though he hasn’t seen the inside of the arena since before his banishment, since he was a child, since...since he—since his father…since the day he got his scar, it’s not as though he’ll be fighting this time. (For that matter, he doesn’t yet know who is involved in this Agni Kai—just that one or both of the combatants is notable enough within Court for this to be an event.)

He manages to calm his trembling knees in time to enter the arena before the proceedings began, but just barely. Zuko wafts in, hands clenched at his sides, trying and failing not to think about what it looks like, how his uncle’s reputation for tardiness might have rubbed off on him—all the times Uncle had lingered behind at a port-of-call, delaying Zuko’s carefully crafted schedules, (you worry too much Prince Zuko, you should rest, a man needs his rest). But when he finds his seat in the section designated for the royal family, only Azula is there waiting for him.

“Where’s Father?”

Azula smirks. “Well, hello to you too, Zuzu. Here for the show?”

“Where is he?!”

Azula steadily moves her gaze to the platform in the center of the arena, and when Zuko follows it there, his hand finds the branded skin on his face, stomach tumbling out from within him, blood flushing like he imagines it would if the sun were to disappear from the sky.

Ozai stands there, elevated, ceremonial Agni Kai garnet draped around his bare shoulders, just as it had been three years ago.

Zuko inhales. “Who…?”

“Just watch, Dum-dum.”

But he doesn’t have to watch long. After a moment, two members of the Royal Guard appear, dragging a lump of a third person up onto the stage. They drop him there, bare-chested, clad only in ragged dueling pants because the Agni Kai sash falls from his shoulders as he hits the tile floor, and though he’s conscious, he doesn’t seem to have the strength to readjust his position.

Zuko cries out, leaping to his feet. “What’d they do to him?!”

“Really, Zuko, you’re causing a scene.”

If anyone turns toward him at his outburst, Zuko doesn’t see it. His focus is singularly on the platform. The guards seem to laugh as they retreat from the stage and leave the man there—Zuko can tell even beneath their masks, people have been looking at him that body language for years: the way their chests rise and fall, how they tilt their heads back like they don’t have a care in the Agni-forsaken world. They’re looking at him and laughing, like they don’t care that this is what’s become of the Dragon of the West, who used to be their Crown Prince, their general, their hero, like they think it’s funny...

“Azula!” he demands.

“Perhaps he was simply always feebler than you remember.”

“He was not! The only reason he didn’t destroy us in Ba Sing Se is because he wanted to give the Avatar time to get away—”

Azula raises an eyebrow. “I thought the Avatar was dead.”

“—they did something to him! Drugged him, or beat him, or something—don’t you care?!”

She shrugs. “He’s a traitor.”

“He’s our uncle!”

“I guess I’m just not as sentimental as you are, Zuzu.”

“But why—” On the stage below, Ozai looms over his brother, burying him in a dark shadow. “Why is he...Is Father going to duel him?”

“It’s not going to be much of a duel, if you ask me.” A pause, and then she continues. “You didn’t think Father would let treachery like Uncle’s go unpunished, did you?”

“But…” But he’s his brother. The words die on Zuko’s lips. Yes, Uncle’s his brother. And Ursa was his wife, and what did that matter? And…

Blood rushes to his face, and it burns—it burns—like it’s on fire.

Uncle is on his knees, and it looks almost like a prostration.

And I was his son.

Ozai doesn’t even bother moving to the starting position, just shrugs the ceremonial garnet off his shoulders to signal his intent to begin. “Well, brother,” he smirks in a voice loud enough for the entire arena to hear. “You have betrayed your Nation and your Fire Lord. Will you fight for your honor?”

Uncle just barely manages to lift his head. If he says anything, it’s too faint for Zuko to hear.

“Sad,” Ozai continues, projecting, raising his hands with his voice. “That this is what has become of the famed Dragon of the West. And to think that this country once thought that you would be their ruler.”

Something in Zuko’s chest lurches, like it’s trying to escape, to run from the fire it knows is coming, that lives in its muscle memory. Family sticks together, Uncle had told Zuko once, had shown him patiently, over-and over-again every day for three long years, even when Zuko screamed that he didn’t want to see it.

Family sticks together. Family does not raise hands to each other with the sort of glint that is currently in his father’s eyes and speak gleefully about it. Family does not orchestrate public duels and give whatever orders are necessary to ensure that those duels are just for show.

This is wrong. Even if—if—Uncle is a traitor, this is wrong. Uncle is Father’s brother. Uncle is on his knees. This is Uncle. And Ozai looms over him, flames growing in his palms, and Zuko’s fingers clench in his lap, his head, his chest buzz...This is wrong.

(And if this is wrong…)

(Zuko had been on his knees once. Ozai had towered, fire growing in his hands…)

(If this is wrong…)

“My Nation is fortunate,” Ozai smiles, angling his hands toward his brother. “That I am here to purge it of such weakness.”

And then whatever it is that had been screaming in Zuko’s chest bursts forth, mingles with all the lingering doubts that have been living in his mind the past several weeks since his return home. And Zuko doesn’t know what he is about to do until he does it, springs to his feet in the most honored seats of the arena, and yells in a voice as loud as Ozai’s so that there is no one in the entire stadium who will not be able to hear: “Stop!”

This time, when all eyes turn to him, Zuko feels them. But he doesn’t move his own gaze from his father—who has turned toward him, smile fading from his face, flames flaring in his hands—and it’s just enough to make the man hesitate. But the flame is still growing, and Ozai has a history of venting his red-hot anger onto any in the vicinity. (Not anyonein the vicinity, Zuko will think later—much later, after he has time to process, not only this moment but everything else too—Ozai has a history of unleashing his anger on the most vulnerable target. Once, that was Zuko. Now, it’s Iroh.)

In the present, Zuko doesn’t waste the opportunity. He propels himself forward into the air and toward the stage with Firebending, and it’s not until he’s halfway there that he feels the fear sink in his stomach, not until he lands in front of Uncle that he feels the tremble behind his knees. But he remains upright, and whatever he feels, he wills his face to be the same level of impassive as it was behind the Blue Spirit mask before he’d cast it away.

“Zuko...no…” Uncle’s voice is a murmur behind him, but there are resonances of a moment of when it was much stronger. You never think these things through!

And it’s true, he knows now, no matter what he’d yelled under that lake. But sometimes you can’t think things through, or you’ll be paralyzed, and sometimes there’s no time, you just have to act…

He clenches his fist.

“Why does it not come as a surprise that you’re a traitor too?” Ozai snarls. “I should have killed you three years ago and spared myself the embarrassment!”

“Maybe,” Zuko hears himself say, and to his surprise his voice is steady. “But you didn’t.” A pause, and then: “Leave my uncle alone.”

“Treachery must be punished. He will fight for his honor!”

“This isn't a fight! It's a show! You know you can’t beat him for real, so you staged this whole thing just so the country will think you look stronger than you are!”

“Zuko…” Uncle’s whispers grow desperate, but Zuko doesn’t turn.

Ozai’s nostrils flare. “How dare—”

“It’s just another lie! Like all the lies you told us about how the Fire Nation is the greatest civilization in the world! Like the lies you were willing to tell to all those young soldiers you’ve sent to die…”

“Zuko…”

“You will pay for this insolence—”

“But the truth is that we’re not the greatest country in the world! And the truth is that Uncle Iroh is better than you are! He’s stronger, he’s a better father, and he would have been a better Fire Lord!”

It’s not a surprise when the lightning comes barreling toward him from his father’s fingers. And even though Zuko knows the technique in theory, executing it in practice brings him precariously close to reckoning with his own mortality. He catches the blast with his fingers, and it pushes him backward. He just manages to dig his heels into the floor and stop himself before he ploughs into Uncle and spills the electricity onto him—which would defeat the entire purpose of this whole charade—but it festers in his own arm, like it’s singeing it from the inside, and it’s going to kill him, it’s going to kill him, Agni, he’s going to die, and he didn’t think he’d care, or that that would scare him, not after everything, but he...he doesn’t want…

“Breathe...Zuko.”

Uncle’s voice is nothing more than a rasp, but it grounds him nonetheless. Zuko inhales, then releases, lightning still festering at his fingertips.

“Focus...your...energy. In...Down...Up…Out.”

Another breath, and then Zuko obeys, just like Uncle taught him in the ruins of forgotten that Earth Kingdom town, a lifetime ago now, it seems. And when he lets the lightning fly out of his other arm, he angles it upward, toward the roof of the arena, where it explodes on contact in a fiery burst.

Later, Zuko will think with a wry irony that he ought to make an offering in gratitude to Agni that things always seem to blow up in his face, because it’s that fact that ultimately seems to save him. The center of the ceiling of the stadium collapses as it detonates, and for the second time in minutes, Zuko doesn’t waste the opportunity that presents itself. In the chaos that ensues as chunks of tile and plaster falls to the stage between him and Ozai, as all the Royal Guard is occupied with protecting their monarch from falling debris, Zuko hauls Uncle onto his shoulders and flees.

It’s not until they’re well beyond not only the palace, but indeed the very walls of the city itself that he brings himself to look back.

[ao3]

[iatethepomegranate]

We are not alone in the dark with our demons, Chapter 13

In which Caleb buys a house in Rexxentrum with Beau and Yasha, becomes a professor, and learns to be a person. And, amid all of that, confronts his past by helping others like him.

Content warnings: traumatised child, starvation (referenced), very brief hint of lifespan angst

Chapter summary: Caleb is good with kids. Clerics are good with Calebs.

Chapter notes: Chapter title is from An Act of Kindness by Bastille. Pardon the comma splice; it gave me a better vibe than anything else.

***

Chapter 13: Kindness is what you showed to me, it holds me 'til I ache

Much later, Caleb tucked Luc into bed. The boy had been dozing for some time now, and Caleb himself was exhausted. He and Essek retreated to the spare bedroom. The room wasn’t large, and therefore the bed took up most of the space, but it wasn’t the most cramped quarters the two of them had shared. It was warm, lived-in, and belonged to one of Caleb’s dearest friends in the world.

Caleb flung off his coat, tossing it onto the chair crammed in the corner of the bedroom. Essek hovered closer, deftly plucking the buttons of Caleb’s shirt until it opened. Essek kissed Caleb’s collarbone, and slid the shirt down his arms, tossing it onto the coat.

“Did I make you uncomfortable earlier?” Essek asked, slowly running his fingers across the reddish-brown hair on Caleb’s chest.

“No. I was surprised, is all.” And very tired, but he knew Essek was aware of that.

Essek kissed Caleb’s sternum, just below the meeting of his collar bones. “We can discuss this another time. I just want you to know I am not trying to… discard you.”

“I know.”

“Good.”

They undressed. If they had been alone, they probably would have just collapsed naked on the bed, but there was a child in the house who had no boundaries, so they drew on the last dregs of their energy to pull on nightshirts and climb under the covers.

Essek wanted to be the big spoon tonight, and Caleb indulged him. It was adorable, really, given Essek was significantly smaller than him and wound up looking like a humanoid backpack. But the soft, warm pressure of Essek’s body was soothing as always, and Caleb drifted asleep.

For a while.

Then, there was a soft tapping on the door. And then the hinges creaked. Essek was already sitting up, so Caleb lay there a moment longer.

“Luc,” said Essek. “Are you all right?”

The boy didn’t speak, but he did sniffle. Caleb dragged his pants off the chair and stepped into them. Then, even in the dark, he found Luc’s small form and knelt before him.

“What happened, liebling?”

In the light from the moon, and the permanent driftglobe in the hallway Caleb had Pumat make for the Brenattos as a housewarming gift, he could see Luc swipe tears from his cheeks. Then he held up his arms in the universal signal for carry me.

Caleb scooped Luc into his arms and stood, settling the boy’s weight on his hip. Luc buried his face in Caleb’s shirt.

“Is there anything I can do?” Essek asked, halfway out of bed.

“Nein. I’ll step into the hallway. You rest.”

Essek huffed at him, but climbed back into bed. Caleb took Luc into the hallway and shut the bedroom door. Out here, it was easier to see the tension through Luc’s tiny body. He had Caleb’s shirt tightly gripped in his fists.

“Did you have a nightmare?” Caleb asked softly. Luc nodded. “All right. Would you like to talk about it?” Luc shook his head. “All right. I will hang onto you for a while, until you can sleep again. Does that sound good?” Luc nodded.

Caleb normally tried not to dwell too much on the memories of his childhood in Blumenthal, especially when he was out of sorts, but he could recall a conversation his mother had with a woman who had asked her advice on putting her newborn to sleep. He could hear his mother’s voice, sweet and gentle towards the woman who was on the verge of exhausted tears. Una had told her to hold the baby and walk up and down the house, slowly, until he fell asleep. It was not a sure thing, but it could help.

So Caleb slowly paced up and down the hallway, rubbing Luc’s back. He swayed a little as he walked, like his mother had once done for him. Even when he was just old enough to remember. Just a little younger than Luc was now, as Caleb had started to remember things very young. Not with the same clarity as he did as an adult, but more than most children at that age.

After some time of wearing a path into the wooden floor, Luc’s grip on his shirt loosened a little. The boy settled into Caleb’s arms more comfortably.

“Uncle Caleb?” His voice was still thick with years.

“Ja, liebling?”

“Can you tell me the story of the cat prince again?”

“Ja, of course.” Caleb had the story memorised in Zemnian and Common by now. For a long time, he had only known it in Zemnian because of the nights his mother and father had read it to him, over and over. Since reading it to Jester, however, he could tell it in Common almost as well. And he had told it to Luc several times before.

He continued to slowly pace as he told the tale, quietly into Luc’s ear. Luc relaxed by inches. Yeza poked his head out of his bedroom door and watched quietly. They barely made it through the reveal of the cat in his crown of golden leaves, before Luc had relaxed fully, asleep against Caleb’s chest.

Yeza, who had been tense himself, also relaxed. “Thank you,” he whispered.

Caleb smiled at him, not daring to speak lest he wake Luc. He slowly carried the boy to bed, tucking him in with a kiss on the forehead he decided to give at the last second. He crept out, closing the door. He and Yeza leaned their ears against the wood, listening for a moment. When it seemed that Luc was properly asleep, they stepped away.

“He’s been like this a lot,” Yeza whispered. “At first, when we were in the hideout, I thought he was gonna be okay. And he was for a while, until we came back home. Veth’s been good with him, but it’s wearing on her. On both of us.”

“These things often don’t hit right away,” Caleb replied quietly.

“Yeah, Veth said that, too.” Yeza sighed. “You’re good with him. Where’d you learn that?”

Caleb shrugged. “My mother, and I remember the things Veth has done to help me. I am not a little boy, but the principles are similar.”

“We need to have you over more often.” The exhaustion was all too evident in Yeza’s voice. “Your students will be lucky to have you.”

Caleb managed a smile through his own exhaustion, and that personal brand of self-loathing that rarely went away. “We will see. Gute nacht, Yeza.”

“Goodnight, Caleb.”

They separated. Caleb went back to the guest room, where Essek was sitting cross-legged on the bed in his trance. As soon as Caleb slipped under the covers, Essek shifted.

“Is everything all right?”

“Ja, Luc’s asleep.” Caleb buried his face in the pillow with a sigh.

“You are good with children. Have you ever considered…” Essek laughed softly. “Hm. I feel that is a loaded question, given our relationship.”

Caleb put the meaning together. “Ja, I don’t know. I used to see myself raising a family when I was younger, but… things got complicated. Maybe in time. For now, let’s see how I go as a teacher.”

Essek hummed softly, and did not continue the discussion. This required both of them to be more energised. Given the difference in their lifespans, and the fact Essek was a wanted criminal and Caleb a likely target for members of the Assembly looking to cover their tracks, it would not be an easy decision. It could wait. It needed to.

Caleb reached out blindly until he found Essek’s knee. “Cuddle me.”

Essek chuckled. “All right.” He lay down, manhandling Caleb until they were both in a more comfortable position, Essek’s head tucked under Caleb’s chin.

***

The morning was warm and bright, and Essek was soft in Caleb’s arms. Back home, Caleb would have held Essek close, slowly rubbing the heat of Essek’s back through his shirt until they were both too distracted to make it to breakfast. Here, however, he had to make do with several deep, promising kisses. And Essek grazing his collarbone with his teeth, one hand between Caleb’s thighs, until they both took a deep breath and, regrettably, stopped.

Maybe they would take the tower tonight, or a room at the Chateau. Veth would Send to them if she needed help with Luc. She had begged Essek to teach her so she could keep up the ruse that Yasha could communicate with her across distances. Caleb was fairly certain Yasha was fucking with her by this point, but he always enjoyed watching Essek teach.

Regretfully, Caleb forced himself out of bed and away from Essek’s wandering hands. He was definitely grumbling under his breath as he dressed, while Essek reclined in bed and watched with warm amusement.

“What’s so funny?” Caleb muttered, stumbling into his trousers.

“Caleb Widogast.” Essek smiled sweetly. “You’re cute when you’re grumpy.”

“I am pretending I didn't hear that,” Caleb said weakly. Because he was this close to jumping back into bed with this man.

Essek took pity on him and climbed out of bed to dress, though the way he pressed up against Caleb’s back to kiss his neck was pure evil. Nevertheless, the two of them managed to get dressed and out of the bedroom without further incident.

Luc seemed more like himself at breakfast, fiddling with his crossbow once again. Veth kissed Caleb on the cheek in a silent thank you for the previous night. Essek, as usual, braided Caleb’s hair after breakfast.

“Where’d you learn how to do that?” Veth asked, as Yeza brushed her hair and braided it as well.

“My brother,” Essek said, with a professional tone that sometimes came out when he wasn’t prepared to express a particular emotion. He tied off one braid at the side of Caleb’s head, starting on the other side. “Verin was always a handful. I learned to fix the mess he made of his hair when he was off climbing trees or chasing animals, or people. It was important we both presented ourselves well, and that included grooming.” His fingernails lightly grazed Caleb’s scalp. “Verin… well. Someone had to fix his hair, preferably before our mother found out.”

There was something a little steely in Essek’s voice. A defense mechanism probably. Essek rarely spoke of his family, especially now that he probably wouldn’t see them again. Caleb got the impression Essek wouldn’t miss most of them, but he may have been closer to Verin.

Essek finished the second braid and pulled them into a half-ponytail at the back of Caleb’s head. He sighed, and ran his fingers through the rest of Caleb’s hair far longer than strictly necessary. Caleb caught his wrist and squeezed, just for a moment.

***

After breakfast, Caleb and Essek headed to the Chateau following a message from Caduceus requesting Caleb’s presence. Essek peeled off to trade novels with Marion, leaving the three of them alone in Jester’s childhood bedroom. Here, Caduceus and Jester had set up a scrying ritual. The materials were mostly floral in nature, indicating this was for Caduceus.

Caleb caught on immediately, though he didn’t get the words out before Jester shoved him onto her bed. Then, it was irrelevant, as Caduceus had already begun the ritual to scry on Nico. Caleb appreciated they had asked him to be here for it.

Jester sat with Caleb, nuzzling his shoulder and very nearly stabbing his eye out with her horns. And, of course, squeezing him so hard he was afraid of cracking a rib. It felt good, though. The anxiety coiling in his gut struggled to keep its foothold.

He had been afraid to ask Caduceus or Jester to scry on Nico again. What if the thing he feared most had come true? Nico’s fireball had knocked Caleb out cold. That really should not have been possible, even if Caleb had the constitution of wet tissue paper. He was still much tougher than he used to be.

Unlike Caleb, Nico didn’t have clerics on hand to pull him from the jaws of death. Nico could have curled up to sleep one night, out in the cold, and not had the strength to wake up again. Even when he hadn’t been injured, Caleb had come close to freezing to death many times in the years between Vergesson and Veth. The eleven years of no magic, and his long-discarded outright fear of fire, had almost spelled his doom.

Maybe Caleb’s messages never received a reply because the recipient was no longer alive. He was not experienced with the Sending spell; maybe he was misreading the lack of response. Maybe there was a pattern in the magic that should have told him whether the message met its mark. Caleb knew he was smart. He knew he was methodical. But he was also emotional. Maybe he had missed something.

Jester squeezed him tighter. He was spiralling. He had to breathe. He had to think. Panicking was of no use. If Nico was dead, they needed to find his body. It had only been a few days, and Caleb had created a new Transmuter’s Stone--focusing on that had helped steel his nerves these past few days. And he was sure Jester and Caduceus had the right quality of diamonds. Even if Nico was dead, he could still be saved.

And if he was alive, they needed to know. They needed to keep trying to talk to him, try to get him to safety in whatever way they could. And even though Caleb had never had a proper conversation with the boy, he knew he would do anything to keep him safe. Anything.

What Nico was going through now, Caleb had suffered alone. He would never wish that on anyone.

Being held by Jester always brought up complicated feelings, but he was grateful she was there to physically hold him together. She was babbling about something, and Caleb genuinely tried to listen, but most of his focus was split between his whirling thoughts and watching Caduceus.

He did catch the end of her babble.

“And then King said, ‘Were you gonna tell me I had magic blood or was I supposed to find that out when I cut myself shaving?’” Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “He found out because he cut himself shaving.”

Caduceus jolted, and then he was back with them. “Nope.”

The words fell out of Caleb’s mouth before he had fully considered them. “Can you tell the difference between resisting the scry and…” His brain caught up with his mouth, and choked him.

Caduceus stepped in before Caleb could spiral further. “Yeah, we can tell the difference. He resisted.” Caduceus began to collect the flowers, bundled herbs, ashes, and bone fragments. A piece of petrified wood Caleb had found him during their travels. A few botanical drawings made by Jester. Fresh seaweed from Fjord. He carefully scooped up each piece of the ritual and put them away.

Okay. Nico was alive. That was something. But they couldn’t see him. He could have been anywhere within a few days of Rexxentrum, and each of those places was freezing cold. Nico had fire, but did he have the capacity to use it? Had he found shelter? Water? Where the fuck was he?

And it was possible to be alive and conscious and on death’s door. He wasn’t dead. Yet. That could change at any moment. Caleb needed to know. He couldn’t take this uncertainty anymore.

“Jester.” His voice was little more than a scratchy whisper. “Please.” Talking hurt.

She gave him one last squeeze and let go. “Of course, Cayleb. I’ll try. Caduceus gave me a picture.” She slid onto the floor and began to set out little dick statues. A tiny figurine of the Traveller. A little collection of unicorn statues, many of which were new to Caleb. “Hey, Artie. We really need to see what Nico’s doing, okay?”

Caleb no longer had Truesight, but Artagan never bothered to hide his presence in Sprinkle anymore. Or when his cloak would appear and sweep over Jester. He only hid from the Nein to fuck with them these days. So, the green flash of Sprinkle’s eyes and the sweep of a green cloak were a familiar sight by now.

Caduceus took Jester’s place on the bed beside him. Neither Caduceus nor Caleb were given to filling empty space with sound unless they genuinely had something to say, so they sat quietly. Shoulders barely touching, but that was enough of an anchor for Caleb to stay calm.

Time crawled by as Jester worked through the ritual, until, finally, she looked into the distance. And she wasn’t seeing the room. Hope bloomed, sharp and painful, in Caleb’s chest.

“I see him,” she said. “It’s hard to see anything else. I think I can see green but I can’t make out shapes. Nico’s sitting on… grass, I think? There’s a campfire. Bandages. He found bandages somewhere! He looks pale, but… focused. I think? He’s bandaging his arm.”

She spent the next ten minutes describing everything Nico did. Aside from bandaging, he spent most of the time staring into the campfire. He’d found a coat somewhere, but no shoes. Shivering a bit, but nothing that would indicate a threat of hypothermia. Best she could tell, he was surviving.

Until they could get him to come back, that would have to be enough.

Once Jester had finished scrying, she squeezed onto the bed on Caleb’s other side. “Are you okay, Caleb?”

“Ja.” Knowing Nico was more or less in one piece, and did not seem to be in immediate danger, had lifted a great weight from Caleb’s ribcage. “Thank you. I was afraid to ask. Caduceus, I hate to ask that you spend another spell, but...”

Caduceus waited patiently, smiling faintly as he often did. He would say yes. Caleb knew he would.

So, despite feeling weird about asking for things like this, he did anyway. “Would you mind asking the Wildmother a few questions?”

“Give me three questions and one minute,” was all Caduceus said in response.

Caleb had spent so long worrying about this kid that coming up with three questions was easy. “First, is he in the Pearlbow Wilderness? Second, has he found clean water in the last twenty-four hours? Third, has he eaten since Rexxentrum?”

Caduceus slid to the floor once again and began setting up the ritual. “Good questions to ask, with simple answers.”

The wait was easier this time, knowing that Nico wasn’t dead, or close to it. The burning incense curled through the air, reminding Caleb fondly of his time with Frumpkin. He hoped his little friend was having a good time, wherever he was.

“Is Nicolaus Baumann in the Pearlbow Wilderness?” Caduceus asked quietly, eyes closed. Caleb could not sense the Wildmother’s response, but Caduceus nodded to himself. “Has the boy found clean drinking water in the last twenty-four hours?” A moment, and Caduceus nodded again. “Has he eaten since the meal I fed him in Rexxentrum?” This moment stretched longer, and the corner of Cad’s mouth tightened. He released the ritual, blinking his eyes clear until he could focus on them. “Nico’s in the Pearlbow Wilderness and has found clean drinking water in the last day. He has not eaten since Rexxentrum.”

Caleb swallowed around the lump in his throat. “Thank you, Caduceus.” Those words could not adequately express his gratitude; how much lighter he felt knowing that Nico was surviving. They could get him back to Rexxentrum. Caleb would keep talking to him, as would Felix. It was doable. “And, Jester. Thank you.”

The two clerics exchanged a look, laced with meaning that Caleb could not read. But he suspected they had discussed this whole thing in detail long before they had invited Caleb here. He wasn’t sure he would ever get used to having friends who would literally team up to take care of him like that. It frightened him a little, but he knew the fear was irrational. They loved him as much as he loved them. Not always in the same way, especially when it came to Jester, but it was love all the same.

Then Jester’s mood shifted, and she was grinning. “Hey, Cay-leb.”

“...ja?”

“Did Essek bring his parasol?”

“Ja, of course. It’s Nicodranas.”

“Cool! I got you guys a huge beach umbrella. Meet us downstairs in an hour.” She kissed his cheek, and tore out of her room. “BEACH TRIP!!”

Caduceus chuckled softly, unfolding himself from the floor. “She has been planning this all day.”

“Ja, I figured.” Caleb had missed the beach. So different from his old life that it was easier to let go of things there. “Are you coming?”

Caduceus laughed openly at that. Of course he was coming. Nobody said no to Jester Lavorre.

This was probably the last time the two of them would be alone in a while. There were things Caleb wanted to say. Needed to.

“Caduceus,” said Caleb. “Thank you. For all of this.”

“Caleb.” Caduceus smiled, but he allowed the sadness of it to break through. “You were alone for a long time. So was I. So were… all of us. We’ve all grown together. And you… I always knew you were being shaped into something. What that something was… that was your choice. Reaching out to people who went through what you have, taking your pain and what you have learned to protect them from the worst of your experiences… that’s growth, Caleb. You’re healing. I’m proud of you. We all are.”

The words hit hard, drawing tears from the corners of Caleb’s eyes. But they were good tears. It felt like a poison was leaving his body.

“You helped,” Caleb said, standing to face Caduceus properly. “All of you. And I know I didn’t always listen to you, but I remember everything. Your words mean a lot to me. Thank you.” He felt a surge of affection and a sob escaped his throat. “Can I hug you?”

“Of course.”

It had never occurred to Caleb that firbolgs would give great hugs. They had giant heritage and were stronger than they looked. Caleb had come to prefer hugs that crushed his soul back into his body, so this was perfect. He let Caduceus squish him, tucking his face into the folds of his robe. Caduceus always smelled of herbs and earth. A grounding, calming scent to match a grounding, calming man.

Caduceus had been exactly what the Nein, and Caleb himself, had needed after they lost Molly. And he continued to fill that role, gladly, even when it caused him personal pain. Caleb loved him dearly.

They were still hugging when Jester came to grab a few things from her room, and she gladly jumped in, babbling about the beach trip and all the plans she had made for it.

Caleb breathed easier than he had in days.

[reversecreek]

✵ zloane , bravier , nyla and sean

ZIGGY & SLOANE

their first impression of your muse:

sexy. tugged on her hair literally the first time he saw her hadn’t even had a conversation bt was just like target? located. going? ✈️ annoy her. probably initially just thought she was only at the skate park bc sean was n was like 🙄 then she cld actually skate n he was like 😏 liked that she gave him shit. found it funny pushing her buttons. liked her eyes. probably was like wtf is in the fuckin water in this town yo why all my friends got hot sisters that shit aint right tryna make me a dog....... not that he was even. phased by betraying those boundaries bt. still. i won’t lie his main first impression was probably jst damn bit hot when she glares at me like that. KJHFSGKSJHGKGHSFKGH

current impression:  

knows her a little more than he likes to know people. favourite person to argue w. can possibly skate better than him bt if she said so he’d be like “ur off ur fuckin tits man” n then practice secretly on his own for hours that night n get 9457295 scrapes. doesn’t like talking abt her dad like him so one time he put a firework in his mailbox n never admitted it was him. has reactions to youtube videos tht make him snort. quite funny in general rly. drinks a lot not that he can judge it’s just sometimes he notices n once he even snatched her cup n drank the rest so she couldn’t. played it off as their typical fuckery bt he isn’t sure what that feeling was. hasn’t been concerned often enough to know it by name. finds her hot at inappropriate moments like when a movie chara’s dying n he’s meant to be sad. finds her hot when she pisses him off too. thinks mayb she likes the excuse to hold onto him when she rides on his vespa but he kind of likes it too so he’s not about to call it out bc “he isn’t about that deep shit”. 

are they attracted to your muse?:  

KFJHGKJGHFGKFHSGKSHGKSFGH. imagine i was jst like no <3... yes. he likes to act like he’s less so than he is bt it’s obvious.

something they find frightening about your muse:

i wouldn’t say it frightens him bt sometimes he catches her looking at him a certain way n it unsettles him but he doesn’t know why. usually just pretends he didn’t catch it.

something they find adorable about your muse:  

he likes her short hair he’s always ruffling it n tugging on it. whenever she hs bumps n scrapes n bruises from falling off her board n getting back on over n over again jst never giving up or giving a fk. when she acts like she isn’t jealous.

would my muse sacrifice themselves for yours?:  

umm. no. he’s an asshole. KGJSHFKGHSKFHGSKFGHKGH. sighs.

would my muse go on a date with yours?  platonic/romantic:  

no..... sees that as dangerous territory wouldn’t wna blur the lines. looks away.

one word my muse would use to describe yours:  

baddie. FKGJHSKGHFGSFHGSKGHSFKHG. demonic (when they’ve had a fight). 

would my muse slap yours if they could?:

no. he loves to argue w her but it never feels that Real u know... more like flirting. even when they’re rly pissed off. wld never enter that territory he hates shit like tht w a passion. cue round of applause from the audience for this absolutely low bar.

would my muse hug/kiss yours?:

i feel like they’re not rly huggy people...... ziggy probably puts his arm around her a lot tho he loves doing that. hs kissed her more times than he can count too n doesn’t plan on stopping

BRADLEY & XAVIER

their first impression of your muse:

funny. mean in a more digestible way than she was used to. he had barbs n she liked the way people winced when they tried to swallow his company. when she got paired w him for a class project she met his eyes across the room n he didn’t quickly look away like most ppl. something abt that intrigued her. a sharp fingernail inside her head kept having to itch at something n she realised it was the urge for him to call her a bad name. this weird craving to hear an angry word inside his mouth just for her. she used to think that’s what someone wanting her was like. still does sometimes. this both pissed her off n caught her attention which is a bit of an accomplishment fr someone who gets bored by everyone n everything.

current impression:  

his heart’s more good than she expected. it felt a bit like having a cat drop a dead mouse at ur doorstep that u don’t know what to do with when she realised that. she felt uncomfortably like her mother when she couldn’t get out of his bed bc she was too depressed n that rly made her feel like. ill honestly. he did all the right things but suddenly she just felt sick abt the whole situation which is Not the normal reaction to ur bf caring about u but bradley doesn’t understand ppl caring abt her. felt more like pity. she thinks he’s better off. she misses him sometimes bt then she reminds herself she doesn’t miss people. does a good job of believing it. one of the best ppl she’s dated not that she’d say it.

are they attracted to your muse?:  

yes..... ws probably. unhinged n rabid when they were dating. very good at hiding it now however. cold at the drop of a hat.

something they find frightening about your muse:

that he witnessed her being vulnerable............ literally grosses her out so much like she’d rather die than. anyone see her like that. when they were dating she’d get paranoid her dad wld somehow find out too n smthn wld happen to him for it. it ws definitely weird for her like the fact she even cared enough to consider tht.

something they find adorable about your muse:  

adorable is rly not a word that fits into bradley’s vocabulary GHSFGHSFKGHSFKG bt hm. maybe if he ever tried to tell her what to do one time even casually. she’d b like awww..... u think i do what anyone tells me? that’s so fucking sweet. 

would my muse sacrifice themselves for yours?:  

in most cases no :/..... however if it was smthn to do w the guys that work for her dad then ya she’d put herself in danger to avoid him being in it.

would my muse go on a date with yours?  platonic/romantic:  

i mean she has in the past bt bradley’s idea of dates is like. starting a bar fight together. getting thrown out of a club n both falling over into trash cans in a dingy back alley. stealing a car. breaking into a random house n fking in a stranger’s bed. fking in the bk of a movie theatre w a horror movie screening. definitely not dinner or anything like tht. she wldn’t now........ they’re not exactly in a place fr that..... 

one word my muse would use to describe yours:  

ex. whatever. i know it’s not one word but “some guy”. FGHSKGHFGKSHG >_>

would my muse slap yours if they could?:

no. she’s a violent person bt not xavier.

would my muse hug/kiss yours?:

NO hugging...................... she fronts like she wldn’t kiss him bt like. if a discussion got heated n they were in each other’s faces who’s to say. 

NYLA & SEAN

their first impression of your muse:

strange little fella which is a very high compliment. kind of reminded them of an animated turtle come to life in the human realm altho they honestly don’t have an explanation for that it’s just the way their brain works. they love the turtles in finding nemo tho so maybe there’s some sort of correlation. very nice face. they kind of wanted to hold his head like a bowling ball just so they could examine it properly. i feel like when they first met him they probably reached out n smoothed a sticky label onto his forehead that said ‘catfish in chernobyl’ n they had one on their forehead that was blank n then they just wafted a pen mid air n were like ‘wanna play guesses?’ even tho that isn’t the name of the game. as if that was just. a completely normal introduction to someone. FGKHSKHGSFKGHSFKG. feel like sean wld have rolled w that tho so nyla was like :P i like.... if they played another round they’d give sean another sticky label that said ‘the loneliest whale in the world’ n then it’d start a whole conversation abt how nyla thinks they can speak whaleish. (whale spin on elvish). 

current impression:  

sean makes them think of that artificial blue raspberry flavour some popsicles have n how it’s always rly fun when they stain ur tongue. sweet n exuberant n leaves a bright impression. he lets them ride on his skateboard sometimes rolling along being lead by them holding his hand n nyla likes to shut their eyes like they’re a bird sailing above the clouds. one of their favourite things to do especially when the sun’s out. bc of this nyla thinks sean was a bird in his past life but not a greedy one like a seagull or a plain one like a pigeon. maybe a bluebird bc of his eyes. he makes them laugh a lot. they entrusted him to babysit their children (as pictured) in his hair for a whole day and night once n they had lots of fun with him so nyla thinks he’s very trustworthy and kind. he also is rly easy to talk to like they cld randomly be like “i’ve been thinking lately that maybe homer simpson could’ve been a good figure skater” n sean wldn’t look at them like they’ve lost their marbles he’d just go w it. they like his company a lot.

are they attracted to your muse?:  

😏

something they find frightening about your muse:

ummm nothing in particular altho one time when they were rly tripping out bc his eyes are blue n it got them thinking abt the ocean n they always think they can talk to ghosts underwater so they were kind of like. thinking abt ghosts whenever they looked him in the eyes. maybe covered their own w their hands n if sean asked why they told him abt it. suddenly he shut his eyes to make them feel better n it turned into a whole thing where nyla had to lead him around the party like a guide dog.

something they find adorable about your muse:  

his nose. watching him talk to his siblings. his hands.

would my muse sacrifice themselves for yours?:  

😌 yea

would my muse go on a date with yours?  platonic/romantic:  

yes............ feel like they’d have fun if they went anywhere tbh........ cn imagine them at a fair eating from the same cotton candy n chattering as they point out things. nyla trying to do that hammer game where u make the meter reach the top n lifting the hammer in the air n falling backwards bc it was heavier than they anticipated.... sean yelling like man down man down..... mayb they take a tab n suddenly the fair is so scary they’re like 😳 we’re in danger...

one word my muse would use to describe yours:  

silly (affectionate). sailor (also term of endearment). gnome (same thing again). cool.

would my muse slap yours if they could?:

no ur sick....

would my muse hug/kiss yours?:

ya to both. jst suddenly had a vision too of nyla being cold one time n clinging to sean from the front like a bushbaby in a hug as he carries her around. suddenly this mode of transportation hs happened more thn once (godmod) (contact my lawyers if u dare bebe) (bitch) (i take it back) (it wasn’t right alli it jst wasn’t right) (pelase forigev m eim shakign)

[redteabaron]

Sansa and the (yellow brick) road home

The movie The Wizard of Oz follows along the general theme most heroes/heroines do; the journey to the inner self, at times in relation with the outer world. (The book by Baum, and by relation the movie, has racist/xenophobic/nationalist undertones and implications that continue and multiply through the text that I’m just not going to include here since this meta is already too long and I’m also not going to include the political or Baum’s personal symbolism in these things.) 

I’m going to go off on a limb and assume mostly everyone knows the general summary of TWOO and not summarize it, if not, the wiki on the movie itself is pretty comprehensive. Below, instead of a short novel describing all the possible references and parallels found, I’ll just be using summarized points about how Sansa fills in for Dorothy Gale on her road home.

Red shoes - Red in the film, as that’s what I’m focusing on rather than the silver ones in the book since that was all about the free silver movement. Red for women and girls in a lot of fairy tales often represents the path onto adulthood, particularly connected to menstruation, which isn’t an enormous part of Sansa’s arc but it does get quite a few notable mentions (usually from gross people concerned with her ability to produce heirs). Sansa, like Dorothy, only gains her “red shoes” once she leaves home (that is, setting her on a path to metamorphosis and growing up). The “red shoes” symbolize things Sansa possesses that people, envy, admire or desire for their own. Sansa’s red shoes represent womanhood, agency over self, beauty, intelligence, her kindness and compassion. 

Sepia colors to technicolor in the film/Kansas to Oz - This transition from little to no color to places where it becomes a feast for the eyes (from the north to the south) represents Dorothy’s and Sansa’s feelings toward their respective homes and the places of their desires. Sansa yearns for something else, something different and southron because that is the place all the songs and tales are about. The north, as reiterated by numerous characters both northern and southron, is a hard, harsh place that has little beauty. Sansa, like Dorothy, feels unfulfilled and out of place in her home. She doesn’t explicitly state how out of place she feels in the north like Jon and Arya, but there is the implication that at least within her family she is out of place (perhaps with the exception of Bran who wants knighthood, loves songs and stories like his sister and doesn’t stick his nose up in the air at the fact that Sansa prefers the ones with ladies or love). King’s Landing is her land of Oz, a place of magic and possibility like all the songs, it’s a world of technicolor and danger.

Yellow Brick Road - The yellow brick road is just that; a road on which Dorothy needs to follow to meet with the wizard of Oz, and most importantly the journey she must undertake to go home, and Dorothy does want to go home, she misses it even in this enchanting land that seems to be everything she first wanted. Like Dorothy, Sansa wants to go home after briefly being in the place where dreams are supposed to be a reality (all the stories can’t be lies) and this beautiful place has more danger than she’d realized; Sansa’s yellow brick road is a sight more twisted and unclear with far fewer friends and guarantees of safety. Dorothy is told to stay on the Yellow Brick Road to find her way to her ticket home (the Great Oz), otherwise she’ll run into danger. 

Sansa’s metaphorical ‘Yellow Brick Road’ is her role as a ‘pawn’ in the game of thrones; she has to play within the rules others make for her and outliving them, or she will have no other recourse for survival. 

Toto - Toto is Lady; the animal in a fairy tale setting that is something unknown in a child, yet to be understood or tamed. Toto was Dorothy’s playmate, constant companion, and likely her confidante, and undoubtedly although Toto didn’t have a large part to play directly in TWOO, he set off the events to occur the way they did for Dorothy throughout her time in Oz and in Kansas, but at least she had the comfort that he was there with her throughout it all. Toto is symbolic of a natural gut instinct (his hatred of Miss Gulch, where Lady hates the Hound) and the one who uncovers things normally concealed (again, Lady’s dislike of the Hound despite being the gentlest of her siblings). 

Lady, like Toto, sets off a chain of events for Sansa personally, but Sansa doesn’t have the comfort of Lady being there with her. Here, Lady is the unknown part of Sansa (that functions as her gut feeling, portrays her true self yet to be realized) but ultimately she, a part of Sansa, is killed by Ned at the behest of Cersei (also featuring Robert once again turning aside something unjust and gruesome for an easier solution). 

It brings Toto escaping from the Wicked Witch of the West in a harsher light. Dorothy’s tearful happiness that Toto escapes alive even while she’s captured and her life is in danger … yet Sansa is in danger and Lady is dead, only alive briefly in her dreams. Toto represents a part of Dorothy that manages to escape the worst of the punishment, yet a part of Sansa is already dead, spiritually, at this point. With Robb’s death and his last words being Grey Wind, we can assume there is no ‘getting a new direwolf’ or just simply recovering from the death of their direwolf. 

The Twister - Ned Stark and Robert Baratheon uproot Winterfell and the Seven Kingdoms unintentionally. By accepting the position of Hand, Ned paved the way for her journey there. Later the deaths of Ned Stark and Robert Baratheon, Sansa is trapped in King’s Landing/the Vale (“Oz”). Robert is the Twister and once in King’s Landing, Ned is the locked cellar, essentially leaving her out in the open in danger as he doesn’t share his worries with Sansa. He deliberately leaves her as the odd man out while he manages to speak with Arya about the situation and at least makes her aware that there is danger. 

Poppy field - The allure of giving up and wasting away; in TWOO these lovely, deadly flowers cause those who breathe in their sweet scent to lay down and fall asleep until their death. The poppy field represents apathy and surrender during difficult times, and similarly this makes its appearance for Sansa who abides by all the rules of her captors (people who have harmed her, her family, her home, etc) - but she only succumbs to this from a certain perspective. Sansa hasn’t fallen asleep and succumbed to her metaphorical poppy field, she is, in effect, lucid dreaming. Dreaming while aware, even if she must stay in the dream so she can survive. She’s giving everyone around her the illusion that she is trapped in her “dream”, that she is “Sleeping Beauty” while she continues to learn, adapt, and observe.

Dorothy has three companions that remain with her on her journey that all want the great wizard to give them something they feel they lack. While in the book/film, it’s clear they’re still good people and not without their positive traits, everyone focuses on what they lack across the board. In the sections below, I’ll be using commonalities found in the (unwanted) “suitors” of Sansa on her journey where they too focus on their negative traits, or are the inverted intentions of Dorothy’s companions.

Tin Man/Tyrion Lannister/Sandor Clegane - Men of sympathetic circumstance and who want to be wanted as they are, or desire to be loved/objects of desire and are understood among others as not having a heart or not able to.

Both Sandor and Tyrion project their feelings of rejection from society and in particular women, noblewomen, and lust onto Sansa (a child, a prisoner of war and an easy, isolated target). They are the most selfish form of desire for the Tin Man’s want for a heart; where the Tin Man desired a heart for the purpose of loving others and everything (although he finds later he never needed a physical heart because he was good and loving all along) Tyrion and Sandor desire a heart from someone else for themselves.

They’re who are typically the ones we want to root for as the underdogs who get their just rewards as they have been abused in their positions or misfortunes in life, but they ultimately fall short because they are simply awful and have built up these defenses and use them against Sansa despite being positions where they could have proven to be the ‘knights’ she yearns for (barring the enormous age gaps which inherently leaves these matches undesirable anyway). 

While Sandor’s backstory regarding his abuse at the hands of his brother are awful, he himself enacts abuse on others - the murder of Mycah, him relaying regret for not raping Sansa when he had the chance (whether or not he meant it, she was a child and it’s an awful thing to regret not doing), and his participation in the unkiss as well as verbally abusing her and gaslighting Sansa. Yet he wants kindness and some sort of love or affection from her regardless of his treatment of her. She sings the Mother’s Hymn for him during the Battle of Blackwater Bay, in a way, giving him some form of (her) heart although that wasn’t what she’d intended to do (she misremembers the trauma so we can assume she was terrified), it can be inferred that Sandor got something from her that he wanted (subconsciously or not). 

Similarly, we have sympathy for Tyrion because although he is highborn, he still faces constant mockery, obstacles, verbal and physical abuse due to his disability and looks. However, he still wants to be lord of Winterfell and he wants Sansa (who he finds himself attracted to) - girl or woman-child or whatever she is. Tywin could have married her off to a Lannister cousin, so Tyrion does have the choice to pass her up, but he chooses to go forward with the marriage and even prepares to take her against her consent (where he molests her and says he could be the Knight of Flowers in the dark; essentially telling her to lie to herself about how she felt about him and the situation) but stops after he feels guilty. Tyrion could have been sympathetic because he isn’t without his soft spots (see his conversation with Jon Snow, his consideration for Bran, etc) but he again falls short. He wants love and affection - but he has rather exacting standards, the same thing that infuriated him about Sansa not finding him attractive.

Like the Tin Man it isn’t that they have no heart. Unlike the Tin Man, however, for Sandor and Tyrion, it’s simply that most of that heart shown consists of selfishness and self-centeredness. Sandor might immediately cop to it and never attempts to hide it, but he tries to bring every man down to his level by saying how awful everyone is, everywhere. Tyrion meanwhile may be capable of kindness, but he shows that he is easy to offend when it is rebuffed or denied, as though he expects payment for such a thing.

Cowardly Lion/Ser Dontos/Joffrey - Characters who have the titles of courtly images; Joffrey is a prince, then a golden king. Ser Dontos is a named knight. Both have the roles in songs and stories where the expected virtues would include courage, grace, humility, honor, etc but ultimately do not have these things even if they have the appropriate titles. 

In TWOO, the Cowardly Lion presents a falsehood or an oxymoron (after all, how can the king of all beasts be a coward?). Joffrey and Dontos do the same. (How can a king be cruel, how can a knight not have dignity, etc). Sansa’s attachment and adherence to songs/stories isn’t really all that different from any of the ideas the Stark kids have about their favorite stories, but in her journey specifically, we see her unraveling popular propaganda in Westerosi high society; she even makes comparisons in her inner monologues. 

Where the virtues of kings and knights are meant to be shown, we see her expectations fall very short of what the title is meant to indicate about the character of the people who hold them.

In both Joffrey and Dontos, they lack these qualities even if we, Sansa, may briefly hold out hope for the better (where Joffrey immediately kills that by suddenly having Ned executed, where Dontos sells her off to Littlefinger despite trying to play her Florian). In particular, Ser Dontos ultimately fails as the CW because he says he wants Sansa to be safe, to be her Florian, but isn’t truthful with her about it, yet he wants to reap the reward for it. Joffrey believes himself to have these qualities but is often called out on it by other characters, playing the CW in the beginning who immediately attacks the Tin Man, seemingly unaware of his lack of character. 

In TWOO Dorothy says she’ll miss everyone, but she’ll miss the Scarecrow most of all; below the characters I associate with the Scarecrow are the ones who Sansa might be able to more easily pick out traits (or trick herself into seeing more good than exists) she is most comfortable with (one of the characters below is most obviously not “safe” or the one she has the most affection for, but rather the one she tries very hard, due to her current dependency on him, to project or emphasize what he’s “done for” her). 

Scarecrow/Petyr Baelish/Harry the Heir/Ser Loras - Characters shown or believed to be less intelligent, without depth, or even overrated. They are stuffed with straw, padded with nothing of substance in a person.

Briefly starting with Ser Loras, I included him specifically because even though Sansa has a little crush on him, she quickly realizes that he never had interest in her, and didn’t remember giving her the rose even though it was the highlight of her day when he did. This is an indication to Sansa she doesn’t know him even though she daydreamed about him. She doesn’t truly know him, is what she realizes and he doesn’t know her despite the implicit belief that love or affection can be found and trusted at first sight. He was handsome, seemingly knightly, dreamy, and he turned out to be no one who would have any consequence for her.

Harry the Heir, we don’t know much about as a person beyond the basics. He has one illegitimate child and is currently courting Saffron, who is pregnant with his second illegitimate child. He is a knight. He’s Robert Arryn’s heir. There’s the idea that he’s quite good at knightly actions (jousting, swordplay, horsemanship, etc) and likely indications that he is a little egotistical. From the released chapters of Alayne we’ve seen, he does apologize for his rudeness, but I don’t believe he’ll be around long enough for us to explore his person. Our understanding of him, and I believe Alayne’s/Sansa’s understanding of him will be one of pity, knowing his fate, but ultimately we won’t know him enough for it to be particularly impactful save for how his death will affect Sansa’s actions. 

To that end, Harry has every possibility of being a better suitor than the others that have sold themselves as her beaus, but it won’t last. Where we read that Ser Loras didn’t remember Sansa or seem to care or was invested in her, we’ll see that ultimately Harry is another, if newer scarecrow; ultimately a character of seemingly goodwill, or at least one who won’t wish her harm, but will fall flat by not having substance or not be allowed the time to develop much. 

Admittedly, Petyr as the Wicked Witch of the West is also fitting, but considering we are constantly told in text how dangerous he is forces him to the forefront of our minds as this terrifying endgame boogeyman. Since asoiaf likes to have little twists and turns and defy immediate expectations, he isn’t likely so important to the final fate of Westeros, and by extension, Sansa’s fate. His biggest impact will be having spirited her away to the Vale and keeping her under lock. To that end, he is (one of) the Scarecrow(s) in Sansa’s journey. 

The whole “I’ll miss you most of all, Scarecrow” here applies to Petyr. Not that he represents a positive point in Sansa’s journey home, but he does represent safety, even though it comes at a price. (Where he tells her to call him Father, where he molests her, gaslights her, verbally and psychologically abuses her and she forces herself to dissociate, ultimately piling on the trauma). 

Petyr isn’t stupid, or without a brain, but he is overconfident in his mind, to the end that he will make huge missteps he won’t have accounted for (Jeyne at Winterfell, not thinking Sansa will be capable of fleeing or thinking for herself, believing he knew everything that happened after the Red Wedding, doubting Dany is a dangerous element, underestimating Aegon, etc) despite giving Sansa similar warnings (all while believing she would be too stupid or naive to heed them). He, like the Scarecrow, is a planner but ultimately he will meet an anticlimactic death. He, and numerous other characters, sell the idea (very loudly) that there is more to him than there appears, that he has great depths, that he is one of the most dangerous men in Westeros.

That isn’t to say he isn’t dangerous - he obviously is. He kicked off a violent war, arranged for the deaths of numerous people, has quite a lot of money and power (although he doesn’t have a name with weight). It’s just that with every person who announces how dangerous he is, we’ll see in Sansa’s journey when we see him as his truest self, stripped of his gold and power we will see nothing. He has no great depths to plumb beyond his own ambitions.

He is the Scarecrow who already found his “brain” (where Petyr already has the lesson that his strength is his mind), yet in the end, is still a scarecrow. Just the form of a man filled with straw.

Wicked Witch of the West/Cersei - The ever present danger that never loses focus on Sansa, seemingly magically out of reach from danger to Sansa’s eyes. Cersei, in a way, is this insurmountable force to Sansa; she is the purest form of danger that exists and it’s why Sansa has no choice but to hide and trust that Littlefinger will keep her concealed.  

Cersei blames Tyrion and Sansa for Joffrey’s death, and especially has a grudge against Sansa for her “red shoes” (her name, her agency, her womanhood, children, beauty, etc, we see her reference snidely about Sansa’s qualities whenever she talks/thinks about her) (see above for what Sansa’s red shoes are) and the action she believes she is responsible for. She has multiple hangers on as Queen Regent (flying monkeys who do her bidding). 

She, from Sansa’s point of view, has all this power and represents someone who can’t be stopped (we see the same thing with Dorothy and the WWW), but yet the Witch dies easily. In TWOO, she’s melted by a bucket of water Dorothy accidentally spills on her. I think this may be an indication that Sansa may have another indirect hand in her death (indirect as with the Purple Wedding), perhaps letting some information she gives be used against Cersei, or something. But ultimately, Cersei, like the Wicked Witch of the West won’t have a particularly “onscreen” death (she’ll likely die in King’s Landing, either by Jaime’s hand, or indirectly through Tyrion when Dany burns it).  

Oz/Man behind the curtain - The songs and tales of Westeros that conceal the darker truths that exist behind what power means; a means of propaganda that Sansa is forced to unveil on her own. While all the Starks learn a lot more about people, the world, truth and lies, politics, etc Sansa’s position in court leads her to pay a lot more attention to what people don’t say. She also develops a deeper understanding of how what she believed came to actually be. She has to learn how to weed out the domino effect stories and songs have, even though at their core they can be appreciated (for instance, that honor and nobility are good things, even if the song/tale about the person isn’t someone who realistically practiced it). 

This saturates court culture across the world, although her focus is on Westeros, but we know that this isn’t just a southron issue; this exists in the north, across the Narrow Sea, within Houses, legacies, and even singular people. 

[dlamp-dictator]

Allen X Rambles about Chapter 7

“I hope Episode 7 is focused on only 2 or three characters with little distraction... Amiya maybe finding out that Ch’en is slowly becoming Infected and helping her come to terms with that. Ch’en revealing her past to Amiya and the two connecting over losing so many close to them due to Oripathy. The two standing up to the political corruption of Lungmen, shoulder to shoulder, as women that refuse to see another life lost due to the indifference of a city’s politics.”

-Allen X, October 2nd, 2020, Rambling about Chapter 6

Man... I’m starting to believe it when they say Arknight’s story mode is longer than the Harry Potter series. Things are getting crazy in Chapter 7 and crazy-long to in terms of length. This chapter really had me on the edge of my seat as I read through it and as I played through because 7-16 and 7-18 were a bitch to get through that require some of the most precise timing I’ve seen in this game yet. That aside, I enjoyed a lot what I read and experienced.

And I wanted to talk about it a bit.

But first, as always, a synopsis.

Coming off the heels of Frostnova’s death and the realization of Wei Yenwu’s purging of the Lungmen slums, tensions are high and trust has been fractured between Rhodes Island and Lungmen. However, in the midst of Ch’en hot temper and Amiya’s cool head, Reunion is plans to send the Russian Ursusian   city of Chernobog on a collision course with Hong Kong Lungmen, giving Ursus a cause to make war against Lungmen and its great region of Tawain China Yen. However, through some rather amazing political maneuvering and passionate words by Wei Yenwu’s wife Fumizuki, Rhodes Island agrees to mobilize in order to save Lungmen, the Infected, and the beloved daughter of Lungmen, Ch’en. But beyond Chernobog lies Patriot, Reunions greatest commander next to Talulah herself, who’s rage toward his daughter’s death is only matched by his disciplined mind and even more disciplined soldiers. It’s a fight to the center of the Chernobog to save as many lives as possible, even at the cost of this great general’s life.

An Addendum to 7-18

So between my venting about 7-18 when I talked about some fun Arknight’s lore a handful of people wanted to give me some advice on how to conquer that stage. Admittedly that venting was said out of anger and was much more acidic in tone than my usual essays and opinion pieces. I have since beaten that stage and I can give some of my thoughts on this advice. Some of it was helpful... some of it.

“AmIyA cAn TaNk PaTrIoT’s SpEaR tOsS!”

This is technically true and I was technically wrong. When Amiya’s S3 is active she gained increased Max HP and can in fact survive with a sliver of health. However, Amiya’s S3 takes quite a long time to charge even with her talent, and unless someone is actively blocking Patriot her can honestly spam his spear through for how long it takes Amiya to get prepped for her S3. This is more of an issue of Amiya’s balancing than with the game, but I’ll talk about that later.

“jUsT sTaLl PaTrIoT tO kEeP hIm FrOm UsInG tHe SpEaR tOsS!”

This would be pretty viable advice if Patriot didn’t one-shot my units. Yes, defenders like Cuora, Nian, Hoshigumi, and even tankier vanguards like Zima and Siege can tank at least one hit from Patriot without dying, meaning a squad of healers can just focus-fire on them while they do chip damage to Patriot and stall him out. However, Patriot’s phase 2 has him do constant damage to nearby units with his aura ability, so if he can get lucky enough, he take someone down to a sliver and let his poison damage finish off your staller before they get a chance to be healed. That strategy needs luck and some damn smart unit placement. Neither of which I honestly have.

“uSe SpEcTeR aNd DeBuFfErS!”

Again, this is also a pretty good strategy. Specter’s S2 makes her immortal for a limited time and pairing that with healers like Breeze and Celycon who reduce stun damage isn’t a bad idea. Characters that ignore or lower defense like Pramanix, Shamare, and Meteor are also good. This doesn’t work for me however since I only have Pram and the other debuffers are way too underleveled and not on my priority at the moment, and E2-ing units this late in the game just to take out one boss feels like madness.

“f12 CaN dOdGe ThE sPeAr ToSs!”

F12, W, Jessica, and FEater have a dodge chance. Their dodges are not guarantees. Yes, Patriot will target the ranged operator furthest from him and there are range tiles pretty close to his spawn point for that purpose. However, some of those operators have some pretty damn expensive DP costs and waste that on a chance to survive isn’t worth.And feeding Patriot ranged units that take over 30 seconds to redeploy is a waste of DP in general. And those either dodge chances aren’t viable. Them surviving isn’t a strategy, it’s a fluke, and you can’t depend on flukes in auto-deployment.

“Allen, you’re being kind of an asshole to what’s actually sound advice.”

Yes, I am. 

I don’t care. 

7-18 does things to a person, man. That stage breaks people. I lost sanity IRL just doing that stage or 20 times with a guide... dear lord this stage.

Anyway, moving on.

Story Notes

My, this story sure was thick, wasn’t it? It’s been while since I’ve been on a ride that wild. And this time around I don’t have any small issues to bring up. All the characters felt in character without breaking my suspension of disbelief. There weren’t multiple character arcs going on at once. And I even tolerated Kal’tsit berating the Doctor for reasons beyond his understand since she wasn’t discussing too many things that were above my head as the player.

No... I only have big issues. 

But before that, I wanted to hit on some actual important notes that were very good and smartly written.

Rosmontis and Child Soldiers

This was probably the biggest takeaway for me. I know the Arknights community likes to poke a lot of fun about the child soldier thing and how Kal’tsit is harboring slave children, but... man, it makes so much since now.

These kids aren’t just kids, they’re all infected people with some rather scary abilities. Popukar has a history of mental instability coupled with monstrous strength. Ifrit has powers she can just barely keep under control and could set Rhodes Island ablaze at any point. Frostleaf and GreyThroat are deeply traumatized from their past. The Ursus Self Government are full of kids with hatred, resentment, and fear of both the world and themselves. The list goes on, but the fact is that these kids all either have abilities that would be a danger to themselves and others if they aren’t trained, or have emotional hang-ups that might very well have them lash out at innocent people if not put on a leash. Wouldn’t it be better to at least give them some training and let them hack and blast away at the actual bad guys? Wouldn’t it be better to at least make them a weapon for some kind of greater good? And would anyone else really treat these broken, powerful children as anything but weapons and warriors anyway?

I know this is about chapter 7, but I remember in Children of Ursus Rosa asked Zima why she fought, and Zima casually answered that she just liked fighting. It’d be far better to have someone with that mindset working for an organization like Rhodes Island than ending up in Ursus’s fold and blindly hacking at something she shouldn’t. 

And I think it’s important to remind everyone that Amiya is the head of Rhodes Island and not Kal’tsit. She’s a big part of the organization, but it’s the bunny in charge. And the bunny that is herself close to a living nuke and is also has empathetic superpowers understands this probably better than anyone else, which is why she okays it. 

Patriot and Reunion

As much as I despise, and I do mean despise, how cagey this series can be with it’s portrayal of Reunion’s morality I can understand why a lot of its members can see the group as being just. Patriot is a warrior of such renown and praise, and Talulah has so much charisma and power that I can see the group overlooking characters like Mephisto and W when the other two do so much for their members and general people. The Guerillas under Patriot behave like soldiers. They don’t rampage, loot, pillage, or harm everyone in sight, only those that halt, stagnant, and harm the infect. Talulah has a charisma about her and attracts people, and seems to come from some sort of royal/noble line to match. And while Faust wasn’t mentioned much in this chapter, he was a soldier that started at the bottom, worked his way to the top, and made sure to play by rules that kept his moral high ground. Mephisto seems to be the only outliner here for some baffling reason.

But... there are some major issues with this story. I hint at them every time I talk about Arknights’ story, but I’ll go into depth here. And I’ll present these two issues I have in the form of a two question:

Who is the Doctor?

I don’t mean this the sense of the story, but what is his function as a character? Is he a self-insert for the player, or his own character to be explored and examined?

And either answer, to me, is wrong. 

The Doctor Isn’t a Self-Insert

It’s straight up impossible for the Doctor to be a self-insert character. Most self-inserts are blank enough to let us place our own personality onto them and the situations their in the choices they make are meant to be more or less choices we’d make or at least a general audience could make barring some specifics. Their personalities tend to be blank or at least bland to let us, the players, live through them and project our personalities onto them.

The Doctor isn’t this. 

There are too many moment where our choices are clearly pointing to one conclusion and most choices, though varied, give a clear idea that the Doctor is someone that care about the operators’ wellbeing deeply and hates seeing them used, abused, or manipulated. They are strategist and commander, but they have enough humanity to not see people as tools. They are passionate when they see other operators and especially Amiya in harms way and tries to come up with strategies to minimize lost and causalities. Awhile we, the player, feel the same in this regard the Doctor has dialogue that feels more conversational and toward specific directions than what a player would likely want and gives us some bits and piece about what they’re actually like. 

The Doctor hates Kal’tsit and wants little to do with her, only tolerating her presence as much as she is with the Doctor. The Doctor is a bit of a bleeding heart that doesn’t fully grasp that they are constantly in a warzone despite their strategic competency. The Doctor has an extremely weird diet and eating style, devouring live animals and ingesting foods that would probably need to be probably mixed and brewed before consumption. The Doctor still sees Amiya as a child despite her mature nature. 

The list goes on, but there’s enough there for me to say the Doctor is more like Hakuno Kishinami of the Fate/Extra series, a character that seems like a self-insert but has a number of traits and character tics that keep them from fulfill that role. However Fate/Extra, for all I have against it, makes Hakuno work by giving them their own internal thoughts outside of the player’s actions that explain their dialogue choices and actions outside of the player’s control. The Doctor doesn’t, so them being a self-insert feels really weak and irritating when the dots stop connecting.

But despite this...

The Doctor Isn’t Their Own Character

Too much of what the Doctor does is passive. For a clear as their personality is, at least to me, they don’t have much agency in the plot. Not enough for me to call them their own character at least. They commander the battlefield, but they don’t have a place on it. They don’t have much reason to interact with characters like Patriot and Talulah unless its on the metaphorical and literal chessboard we’re playing on. 

Every time the Doctor says something that advances the plot in some way I feel like it could be said by another character and work better. Amiya trying talk down Patriot and explain that Frostnova fought bravely did not need the Doctor’s interjections, especially when Patriot shoots them down in the same manner. In chapter 6, being trap with Frostnova would had worked much better with Amiya since that chapter was giving them parallels anyway. The only thing that really works is the Doctor trying to call out Kal’tsit for her treatment of Rosmontis as a soldier despite her age, as that’s only something that someone who didn’t have the full context could do. 

But... Jessica, Frostleaf, Frostnova, Melantha and several other Operators are young teenagers and even children. Specter and Lappland are clearly just as mentally damaged and still going into battles. The Doctor knows the kinds of people that fight for Rhodes Island, so isn’t this just another young fighter like Popukar and Suzuran? Hell, in chapter 6 we canonically had Beagle and Fang in a stage where they had to fight and tank Faust, why is the Doctor so surprised that someone like Rosmontis exist and works for Rhodes Island?

See? 

See how trying to give this character separation from being a self-insert and actively slot them in the active story does more harm than good? 

I think games like Girls Frontline and Honkai Impact 3rd do this better, where the player character is clearly more behind the scenes and is only a passing influence, if any.

But that leads me to my next question, which is...

Who is Amiya?

Amiya falls into the trope of being a cute anime girl with a mysterious past and dangerous powers. More accurately, she has a mysterious past and powers to the player, but everyone in Amiya’s inner circle seems to have a clue about it. I don’t mind this being a mystery, but... when our main character’s plot revolves around things the player doesn’t know, it’s curious at best, and infuriating at worse. 

Folks, I’m not someone that looks to theory-crafting. I’m not someone that reads every scrap of dialogue in this game to find out more about its lore. The lore, to me, is just fun and interesting. I honestly do not have the time and energy to spend on making theories and predictions that could be wrong and a waste of mental energy. However, with all this stuff about the King of Fiends just feels like a waste of time, or at least a last minute addition to something I could had been added properly in Chapter 8.

A lot of it feels like you had to know about the Darknight Memoir side story to really get a feel for what’s going on. The Sarkaz civil war, Theresa, W’s role back when Rhodes Island was Babel, a lot of things that don’t come up in the main storyline. Especially with that bombshell about the Doctor maybe killing Theresa. 

I don’t like it when a story expects me to have read the spinoff to understand the mainline story. This is why I don’t like the Dragon Age series and I’m really getting annoyed with Arknights right now.

This bombshell of the King of Fiends also kind of sours a bit of Amiya’s character as this young child who rose through the ranks of Rhodes Island as a charismatic leader being able to steel optimism with the reality of war to forge ahead as a proper leader through her abilities as both a commander and an empath. Instead it’s beginning to come across that her skills as a leader comes from something more supernatural, or at least something more forced than "small child is a good leader and can lead an army,” which is surprisingly more believable and nuanced given how seriously the series takes Amiya’s character. 

That said, I recognize this criticism is more my wish of what was rather than an issue of what is. I completely understand that essentially wishing for my own fanfic and limited fan theories to come true isn’t a sound criticism, but it's a criticism I have regardless.

But moving on, there’s one more issue that bugs me.

W’s Importance

I’ll keep this brief since I already discussed my bigger issues of the story and this is an admittedly small portion of the story:

W wasn’t utilized much in this story despite being a main feature of it in the promotional material. She has a pretty lengthy intro, disappears from the story for most of it, then reappears at the last bits of chapter 7 to make mean looks at Kal’tsit and the Doctor before being literally shoved offscreen again. I’ve already discussed my issues with the Doctor’s agency so I won’t bother here.

W’s banner should had been during Darknight Memoir, it just makes more sense given she was the feature character of it and her high physical damage would had been a goodsend among all the arts-resistant Sarkaz units of that series of chokepoint-heavy maps, similar to Weedy’s inclusion her is helpful as a lot of these maps could use a good pusher, especially 7-16.

Speaking of, Weedy, the other operator on this limited banner, has no presence in the story at all. Need I remind you in the last limited banner Aak and Hung at least had cameo-esque appearances in the Ancient Forge event. Weedy’s inclusion feels like an afterthought because they didn’t want the limited 6-Star to have a good chance to be pulled for the whales.

Anyway, I believe those are all the big issues I had with this story, so...

In the Future

As I always tend to say, I don’t like the idea of trying to fix something that has already been made and has already passed. It’s too late to change the past, but I see nothing wrong with asking for things to happen in the future as a way of giving feedback. 

To that end, I still have hope that Chapter 8 will have a focus on Amiya and Ch’en tackling Talulah together. From my understanding of some spoilers this is more or less what is going to happen. I also hope that we’ll have a more detailed idea on this whole King of Fiends thing is about. As much as I personally don’t care for it, it’s already be discussed in the story so I at least hope we get the full idea on what’s going on with that plotline. 

I also hope the Doctor either plays less a role or becomes their own character outright away from any player influence. Us speaking through a character that already has a personality feels weird to me and I’d rather not have it at all.

Anyway, that’s it for me folks. Next time... maybe I’ll talk about anime or something, who knows.

[wherepoetswentodie]

This is a thing I’m working on that will not see the light of day for ages because I feel guilty for being bad at updating and also this seems to be the only thing my brain likes to write at the minute so

----

Connor McKinley did not see the point in health class, virtual baby dolls (that might have been possessed by Satan himself, or at least a close friend) and going to BYU in the fall. What he was going to do, however, was go to health class, look after a virtual baby doll (that might have been possessed by Satan himself, or at least a close friend) and pretend he was going to BYU when (if) his parents asked, but actually get into the University of Michigan. 

But as he sat in health class - a class of six people, so he wasn’t sure it could even be called a class - he was beginning to think that maybe he’d prefer to be at BYU. Which may or may not have been a death sentence for him. He had never quite worked out how homophobic it really was and  hoped that he never would have to. 

“Do you think this teacher is ever going to turn up?” Nabulungi, his best friend and ‘girlfriend’ when his aunties were curious, asked. 

“I hope not,” Connor sighed, “I don’t trust babies,” 

“They’re not real babies,” 

“Somehow that makes it worse,” 

He glanced around the class, trying to remember if anyone there had ever thrown homophobic abuse his way. Chris Thomas and James Church definitely hadn’t, considering they were his best friends and Chris was practically sat in James’ lap. He looked towards the back of the room and immediately groaned, shocked that he hadn’t heard Arnold Cunningham before he’d seen him. Or maybe his best friend, and unfortunately attractive republican, Kevin Price had finally worked out how to keep him quiet. 

Connor might have actually tried to talk to him if it weren’t for the fact that his dad was the (incredibly homophobic) Governor of Utah

“Arnold Cunningham is in this class,” Connor muttered to Nabulungi who immediately brightened up and turned around to grin at him. 

“He’s cute,” she whispered. 

“No.” Connor said, “Nabulungi. No. Don’t. No. Don’t even look at me. I can’t believe - him? You think he’s cute?” 

Nabulungi rolled her eyes and suddenly had a coughing fit that sounded an awful lot like “Steve Blade,”. Connor tutted and turned back to the front of class, if not just so he could pretend that his best friend didn’t have a crush on Arnold Cunningham of all people. He thought that he’d be able to deal with her liking Kevin, and that would probably come with a healthy dosage of hate crimes for all involved. 

“You know if the teacher doesn’t turn up in 15 minutes we’re legally allowed to leave,” Arnold piped up. 

Connor rolled his eyes and Nabulungi had the nerve to laugh and turn around to talk to him. Deciding that he should try and stop her before things got too serious, Connor turned around, only to lock eyes with Kevin who was looking between Nabulungi and Arnold like he’d never seen them before. Or maybe he was just shocked that someone was actually showing interest in Arnold. Perhaps he was just glad to find someone who might take Arnold off his hands. Connor had never really understood why the two of them were friends. 

“You know Naba likes Arnold?” Connor whispered to Chris and James. 

James frowned at him, “Who do you think she was out with when she couldn’t come out with us last weekend?” 

Connor gaped at him, “Seriously? Are they - Are they dating?” 

“I hate you,” Chris said, “Do you ever listen to any of us? That was their first date!” 

“I thought she was joking,” Connor muttered, slumping in his seat and trying to block out the sounds of his best friend flirting with someone who dressed up as Luke Skywalker when he went to Comic-Con. 

God, he hoped that Nabulungi wasn’t going to start going to Comic-Con with him. He was pretty sure that he’d have to stage an intervention. A little bit like the one that she had staged for Chris after his sugar addiction had stopped being a cute personality trait and had become a genuine health concern. 

“Did you ask me to take this class because of Arnold?” Connor asked quietly. 

“No, I asked you because someone needed another class to graduate or someone won’t be tap dancing around Michigan next year,” 

“Are you going to Michigan, buddy? So’s Kevin!” Arnold said excitedly. 

Connor froze and turned around to look at Kevin, who’s eyes were also wide, “University of Michigan or Michigan State?” 

“University of Michigan,” Kevin said quietly, “You?” 

“Same,” Connor mumbled, “I’m guessing you’re not doing musical theatre?” 

“Probably economics. Or business. Or whatever else it is republicans do,” Chris said, “Oppress minorities?” 

Before Kevin could argue back, presumably to tell them that he wasn’t going to be majoring in oppressing minorities because Connor didn’t think that was a valid major (if it was, he was definitely going to the wrong university), the door opened and their teacher, Mr. Name-Connor-Couldn’t- Be -Bothered- To- Learn walked in. 

And even though Connor wasn’t going to bother to learn his name, he was thankful that he was their teacher. He was old, and retiring that year, which meant that he was long passed caring about actually teaching and would most likely pass them all without even looking over any of their work. They had basically signed up for another free period, and Connor was already planning on using this hour to work on his book and maybe even convince James to take some new headshots for him. Surely looking after a fake baby doll wasn’t going to be that hard. There was probably an off button that Connor was more than prepared to utilise. 

“Get in pairs,” the teacher grumbled at them, “I don’t care who,” 

Connor turned to Nabulungi with the intent to ask if she would grant him the honour of being the mother of his baby, just as she turned to Arnold to ask if he would be the father of her baby. He watched in horror as Arnold gleefully nodded his head and proceeded to stand behind Connor’s chair in a way that he understood meant ‘Please move’. 

“Chris,” Connor said quickly, “Wanna-” 

“No can do, buddy!” Chris said brightly, “Price needs a partner though,”  

“I hate you both,” Connor told them before sitting in the seat that Arnold had previously. 

The fact that Kevin didn’t seem all too excited about their predicament didn’t make Connor feel much better. Sure, he didn’t want to partnered with Kevin, but that was because he didn’t want to work with a raging homophobe and Kevin probably didn’t want to be partnered with him because he didn’t want to work with a raging homosexual. 

Not that Connor really thought that he was a raging homosexual, but he had long since learned that homophobic republicans (Governor Price sprang to mind), didn’t see a difference between the tiny pride pin that Connor dared pin to his jackets and the Drag Queens that worked in gay bars. It was oddly progressive, in a way. 

“Can you at least pretend to not hate me?” Kevin asked, “It’s not my fault Arnold’s dating your best friend,” 

Connor rolled his eyes, “Can you actually not hate me? It’s not my fault I’m gay,” 

Kevin glared at him for a second before he stood up to go and grab a baby off Mr. What's-His-Face’s desk. He completely bypassed the lone ginger baby in favour of one with dark hair, which Connor took as the first hate crime of the project. Perhaps he could do a second, smaller project on the side where he kept a tally of how many hate crimes Kevin committed over the next week. 

And when Mr. Name-Connor-Really-Should-Learn told them that they would have to stay over at each other's houses in an attempt to really drive home the experience of parenthood, Connor predicted that the final total of hate crimes would be a lot. 

“Sir?” Kevin said, sticking his hand in the air, “Why do we have to stay at each other's houses?” 

“Because, Callum, we don’t want to encourage single parenthood,” 

“My names Kevin,” he said impatiently, “But you’ll encourage gay parenthood?” 

“He didn’t mean it like that!” Arnold said quickly, turning around to glare furiously at his best friend, “He just - He meant...He meant from like a Mormon point of view,” 

“So still a homophobic point of view?” James asked lightly, “I’m not gonna sit and listen to him whilst he constantly attacks who I am!” 

“I wasn’t attacking you,” Kevin snapped, “I’m just - my dad would-” 

“-kill us all given the chance?” Chris said. 

“My dad wouldn’t like it if he knew!” Kevin said quickly. 

“Don’t tell him, Corey. What do you think he’s gonna do? Kill you?” Mr. Connor-Wanted-To-Say-Brown said, “You’re practically an adult, sort it out yourself,” 

Connor sighed and slumped in his chair, glaring down at his desk. He wasn’t sure what was worse; spending a week with Kevin at his own house with his homophobic parents, or spending a week with Kevin and his homophobic parents at their house. Both seemed equally as bad and a very good excuse to throw himself in front of the school bus. 

“You’re not staying at my house,” Kevin said quickly. 

“Cute that you think I want to stay there,” Connor said, “I’ll give you a ride home,” 

“I’m at swim practice after school so I’ll meet you there,” 

“I have rehearsal,” Connor said, “I’ll meet you at my car. It’s the-” 

“I know what your car is,” 

“Oh,” Connor said with a frown, “Oh. Okay. Well, I’ll...I’ll see you later,” 

--------

“Do you think I could steal this dress once we’re done?” Nabulungi asked, twirling around in her Belle dress. 

“When are you ever gonna wear a bright yellow ball gown again?” 

Nabulungi shrugged, “Target?” 

Connor snorted and turned to stare at himself in the mirror. Playing the Beast was fun, but the costume certainly wasn’t. He blew some fur out of his mouth and turned to glower at Nabulungi, as though his quite terrible costume was all her fault. 

“I’m uncomfortable,” he said, taking the mask off and dropping it onto a chair, “It’s really annoying that I can’t turn into the Prince halfway through instead,” 

“That defeats the point of the show though. She falls in love with him when he’s a beast, not when he’s a Prince,” 

Connor scrunched his face up, “That feels illegal,”

“It’s not real,” she reminded him. 

“Never realised that, thanks,” he muttered, eyes darting around the room until they came to stop where they always did: on Steve Blade. 

When talking to any of his friends, Connor assured him that he was very much over Steve Blade and was not at all bitter about the way that everything ended. In reality, he was very much not over Steve Blade and was extremely bitter about the way everything ended. It made playing the Beast opposite his Gaston extremely easy; their fight scene never felt forced and Connor felt like he didn’t need claws to rip his head off. Spite was enough. 

Nabulungi tutted when she saw where he was looking and punched his arm. 

“No.” she said, “Stop thinking about Steve Blade!” 

“I’m not!” Connor exclaimed before very casually adding, “He text me last night,” 

“If you text him back-“ 

“I didn’t,” Connor said, lying effortlessly, “I ignored him. I’m not gonna go back to him,” 

Nabulungi huffed a little, “Good. He got what he wanted from you,”

“My virginity?” 

“Yes,” Nabulungi said bluntly. 

Connor sighed and turned away from Steve, thankful that he hadn’t done anything that suggested they had been talking for most of the previous night. Though that might have been because he was terrified of Nabulungi, Chris and James and didn’t want to get on the wrong side of them. (Again). 

Not that Connor himself wasn’t scared of his friends, sometimes. Especially where Steve Blade was concerned. Still, there was nothing quite as terrifying as an extremely irate Stage Manager in the form of Chris Thomas. The only person he hadn’t shouted at all day was James, even though he was extremely behind in his set painting duties. Connor had gotten one entrance wrong and Chris had described, in great detail, how he was gonna murder him. 

“Oh my god,” Nabulungi said in a hushed voice, “Did you know Elizabeth was still choreographing?” 

“Huh?” Connor said, “I thought someone else had taken over. Chris said she was too ill,” 

“Well, she's here,” 

Connor glanced over at the door and unintentionally winced as Chris wheeled his twin sister in. She looked worse than the last time he had seen her, and even then he had found it too difficult to look at her. 

The school had invited her back to choreograph the show (an unspoken “one last time” hanging in the air), and she had gotten through the first two weeks of rehearsal before she had to leave. Now, with only one week to go before their first performance, having her come back seemed pointless. As he thought about it, Connor realised it only seemed pointless to him because he (hopefully) had more shows in his future. It was very unlikely she had any. 

“Hey, Liz!” Connor said cheerfully as Chris wheeled her over, “How are you?” 

“Dying,” she said bluntly. 

Connor froze, immediately looking up to Chris for some help. Elizabeth laughed and rolled her eyes. 

“It was a joke,” she said, “Sort of. How are you finding the choreography?” 

“Fine,” Connor said quickly, happy to steer the conversation away from death, “Yeah, fine,” 

“‘Fine’ unless we’re talking about Tale as Old as Time,” Nabulungi said, “Which is really all he needs to do,” 

“Drop me in it, why don’t you?” Connor muttered. 

Admittedly, Connor was terrible at ballroom dancing. If he wasn’t tripping over his own feet, he was tripping over Nabulungi’s feet and if he wasn’t tripping over Nabulungi’s feet he was tripping over her dress. It only served as a reminder that he probably shouldn’t have been playing the Beast. He would have been more than happy with the ensemble, or maybe LeFou at a stretch, but Nabulungi had convinced him to audition for the lead, just because they’d probably never have a chance to play opposite each other again. 

“I prefer tap dancing,” Connor said after Nabulungi had finished explaining that the rather large bruise on her thigh was a result of Connor falling right on top of her when he had tried to pick her up. 

“Come on, then,” Elizabeth sighed, slowing getting to her feet, “I’ll help you,” 

“Uh, what are you doing?” Chris asked. 

“Teaching Connor how to dance, why?” she asked, taking Connor’s hand. 

“You can’t! The Doctor said that-“ 

“-I still have 6 months,” she reminded him, “What’s one ballroom dance going to do?” 

“Drop her, and I’ll kill you,” Chris snapped, before rushing off to snap at the poor lighting techs. 

Elizabeth rolled her eyes at the back of Chris’ head as she placed Connor’s hand on her waist and began counting him through the steps. It was a lot easier, being taught by someone who actually knew what they were doing (the new choreographer had not offered much help outside of ‘smile!’). 

“You are good at this,” she told him once the song had ended, “All you need is more confidence in yourself,” 

“I don’t think ballroom dancing is my thing,” Connor sighed, “and also not dressed like this,” 

“Dancing is your thing, Connor,” she said firmly, holding onto his arm as she, if possible, grew paler, “By the time you finish college, you’ll be top of your game,” 

Connor smiled and helped her back to her chair, hoping that Chris wasn’t going to commit a crime because he had tired her out. Not that Connor could blame him for being so overprotective; he couldn’t imagine watching his siblings slowly die, and he didn’t even like them that much. 

“You didn’t have to be here,” Connor said, sitting next to her and watching a run through of Gaston. 

“I know, but Christopher can’t say no to me anymore,” she said, “and he always drives me to McDonalds afterwards. Plus-“ she broke off suddenly, frowning, “I can hear a baby crying,” 

“Wha - oh, shit,” 

Connor jumped to his feet and hurried underneath the bleachers. He had hidden Brigham the baby underneath there in the hopes that he wouldn’t be too loud. Kevin had point blank refused to take him to swim practice, and Connor was starting to think that he would be learning what it was going to be like to be a single dad. 

“Sorry,” Connor said, awkwardly rocking the doll, “It’s my baby,” 

“Health class?” she asked. 

“Yep,” Connor said miserably, “He’s called Brigham,” 

“Who’s your partner? Naba?” 

Connor scoffed, “I wish. No, it’s Kevin Price,” 

“The Governor's son?” 

“Yeah...” 

She stared at him for a moment before bursting into laughter, “I’m sorry. I know it’s not funny but - oh, sweetie. Are they still doing the thing where you have to stay with your partner?” 

Connor sighed and nodded, “I’m not going over to his house. Lord knows I don’t need to meet Governor Price,” 

“So...he’s going to yours?” she asked in a small voice. 

“It’ll be fine,” Connor said hurriedly, “My parents don’t need to know,”

When Connor finally got out of rehearsal and spotted Kevin awkwardly hovering by his car, he thought that his parents probably wouldn’t be too angry if Kevin was the boy he brought home. As this thought crossed his mind, he remembered exactly who his parents were and what they expected of him. They’d probably get angry if Joseph Smith himself was the boy he brought home. 

Not that Connor would want to bring Joseph Smith home. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to deal with the whole Prophet thing. 

“How are we gonna bring him home?” Kevin asked. 

“I don’t know. He’s a doll. We’ll just put him in the back,” 

Kevin tutted, “You can’t drive a baby home like that! I’ll hold him,” 

“You know he’s not a real baby, right?” Connor asked slowly. 

“I’ve never failed a class in my life, and you’re not about to make me,” Kevin snapped, taking Brigham into his arms. 

“Alright, chill,” Connor muttered, “It’s not that deep,” 

Kevin spent the majority of the car journey to Connor’s house glowering out of the window, Brigham held tightly in his arms. If it weren’t for the fact that Kevin was also male, it might have been the closest that Connor ever got to being straight. He had lost count of the amount of couples he had seen (mainly at Church), who so obviously resented each other but had had a child together so that they could live up to the Mormon standard.

It was probably the life that Kevin was going to live, and Connor felt sorry for him until he realised that he was homophobic and suddenly couldn’t care less. 

As soon as Connor pulled up outside of his house, his mouth went dry and his palms became sweaty. This was not at all unusual, but it was even worse with Kevin being there with him. 

Taking a deep breath, Connor got out of the car and waited for Kevin to do the same. He was taking an awfully long time, holding Brigham close to his chest as he carefully got out, and Connor wasn’t sure he could last a whole week without committing a felony. Or if Kevin could last a whole week without committing a hate crime. 

“Are you gonna come in?” Kevin asked. 

Connor’s neck snapped up to face Kevin, who was standing on the front porch. 

“Get off there!” Connor hissed, lurching forward to grab his arm and yank him backwards. 

“Watch the baby!” Kevin yelled. 

“Shush!” Connor whispered, glancing up at the house and dragging Kevin around the side of the house when he saw someone inside - probably his mom - start to pull the curtains back, “Don’t yell!” 

Kevin frowned at him, “What the heck is your problem, McKinley?” 

“How long have you got?” Connor muttered. 

He walked around the back of the house to where the basement door was, quickly unlocking it and shoving Kevin through it before one of his parents made an appearance in the back garden. And he couldn’t help but curse his best friends, because it would have been beyond easier to have just moved in with Naba or Chris for a week. 

Kevin stood awkwardly in the middle of the middle room and it suddenly occurred to Connor that he was probably used to places that were more...grand. 

“Is there a reason we’re in your basement?” Kevin asked, “Are you going to murder me?” 

Connor tutted and walked over to his makeshift kitchen (a mini-fridge, kettle, toaster, microwave and mini-grill on top of his chest of drawers), beginning to make his usual after school snack of two Poptarts and a can of Redbull. If this was also occasionally his dinner, no one needed to know. 

“Do you want anything?” Connor asked. 

Kevin shook his head as he gently laid Brigham on Connor’s bed, “I brought something,” 

“You don’t trust my cooking?” 

“I follow a strict diet,” Kevin said, “I’m a swimmer, remember?” 

“Oh, yeah...” Connor muttered, dropping down onto one of the beanbags that Mr and Mrs Thomas were kind enough to donate to him, “There’s an airbed for you. I’ll blow it up later,” 

Kevin nodded and perched on the edge of Connor’s bed, his eyes darting around the room. Connor picked at his Poptart, feeling increasingly awkward. He would suggest that Kevin stay at his own house and lie to Mr. Teacher-That-Connor-Would-Probably-Never-Know-The-Name-Of, but he had a feeling that Kevin was not one to ever break the rules. 

“Why are we actually in the basement?” Kevin asked, “Shouldn’t you tell your parents your home? And that I’m here?” 

“No,” Connor said, “If it were up to them, I wouldn’t be in the house,” 

“Um...” 

“I’m gay, they don’t like it, they moved me into the basement because it makes them feel less guilty than if they actually kicked me out,” Connor shrugged, “on the rare occasion that I do actually see them, they remind me that once I’ve left for college, that’s it. I’m out, for good,” 

Kevin stared at him, his mouth hanging open. Connor clenched his jaw and looked back down at his Poptarts, wondering if there was a worst person to have this conversation with. He didn’t even like talking about it to his friends, never mind someone he barely knew and who definitely hated him in the same way that his parents did. 

Thankfully, Brigham started wailing and Kevin was too distracted to ask Connor anymore questions.

 It was definitely going to be the longest week of his life.