#actually cared about the flock they would come no matter what. instead they convince themselves that they don't have to care

[slyandthefamilybook]

Once there was a boy who was a shepherd. He kept watch over a small flock of sheep in a pasture at the edge of town. He loved his sheep. He had been born to a shepherd from a family of shepherds, and had so grown up amongst his flock. He knew all of the sheep by name and would great them one-by-one each morning. "Hello Dolly," he would say. "Hello Steven and hello Betty."

Now these sheep were undoubtedly useful: the townspeople would eat their meat and weave their wool and gnaw on their bones as they worked the fields. But these sheep were also alive. They had a glittering intelligence in their black eyes, and they would commune every so often to discuss the harvest, and the shepherd boy, and the townspeople. The sheep loved the shepherd boy and they loved the town and the townspeople, and the people loved them back. They were good sheep.

Now one day the shepherd boy overheard one of the townspeople talking about his flock. The man said he thought the sheep were ugly, and that they smelled bad. This upset the shepherd boy, because he loved his sheep, and he thought the people loved his sheep as well. The shepherd boy, being no more than 12 years old at the time, wanted to remind the people of how much his sheep mattered to them. So one night as the moon hid behind the clouds the shepherd boy stood on a stone in his pasture and cried out: "Help! Help! A wolf!"

Out came a crowd of people, blinking the sleep from their eyes and carrying torches and pitchforks and shovels and ladels. They stood in the pasture and looked about, but they could see no wolf. The townspeople became angry and shook their fists at the shepherd boy. "This is a serious matter!" they cried. The shepherd boy had to admit that his ploy was juvenile, but he was still a child, and so the people forgave him. And they continued to love the shepherd boy and his sheep, and the shepherd boy and his sheep loved them back, for the townspeople had proved that night how much they cared.

Five years later, when the shepherd boy was now a teen, he stood amongst his flock in the pasture and he said "good night, Dolly. Good night, Steven and good night, Betty." But as the clouds passed over the moon the shepherd teen saw a shape in the distance, and out of fear for his flock he cried out: "Help! Help! A wolf!"

Again came the great crashing crowd with their knives and their swords and axes and bows. They stood in the pasture and looked about, but they could see no wolf. The townspeople once again became angry, and they shook their fists at the shepherd teen. "This is a serious matter!" they cried. "We love you and we love your sheep, but you must learn to not be so frightened!" With great grumbling the townspeople returned to their homes, and the shepherd teen sensed that something had changed.

Five more years passed, and the shepherd teen was now a shepherd. He still passed through his flock every morning and said, "Good morning, Dolly. Good morning, Steven and good morning, Betty." And the sheep loved the shepherd and he loved them. But in his age he had grown cautious. The shepherd had learned from the townspeople that perhaps the wolves were not so great a threat as he had thought. And so at night when he would see their red eyes prowling at the edges of his pasture, he would stay silent and wait.

One night, as the clouds began to cover the moon, a wolf appeared. The wolf approached Dolly the sheep and snarled, its lips wet. "Away!" cried the shepherd. "Away with you!" But the wolf showed its fangs and said, "I want your sheep." "Why?" cried the boy. "Why must you take my sheep? You have your food in the forest!" But the wolf laughed. "I want your sheep because I am a wolf and they are sheep. That is how it is done." And the wolf parted its terrible jaws and snatched up Dolly the sheep and dragged her into the deep woods. And the shepherd remained silent.

The next night two wolves appeared, their eyes red and their tongues hungry. The wolves approached Steven the sheep who was with his family. "Away with you!" cried the shepherd. "Why do you hate my sheep so?" The wolves cackled and said with the same voice, "we hate your sheep because it is the thing for sheep to be hated. All wolves hate sheep, and they cannot all be wrong. Even the birds and rabbits of the forest will come around." And the wolves each took a leg from Steven the sheep and hauled him into the dark woods. And still the shepherd held his tongue.

The next night as the moon was new the shepherd saw a sea of red eyes at the edge of the forest. The wolves marched toward his sheep, their heads held high. And the shepherd saw that indeed the birds and rabbits of the forest were among them, their eyes bleeding and their teeth sharp. They approached Betty the sheep who cried out in terror. The shepherd stood on a rock in his pasture and called out with a loud voice: "Help! Help! The wolves have come, and all the birds and rabbits of the forest!"

But this time no one came. You see, although the boy had cried wolf before, his fear was now justified. But the townspeople had grown tired of him. Every time the flock was threatened they felt compelled to act, and that compulsion drained them. And they no longer liked the shepherd. He had spent too much time with his sheep, and they had begun to see that same glittering black intelligence in his eyes. Sheep are frightened of everything and cannot be expected to know when they are truly in danger.

What had the shepherd done for them? He kept his sheep mostly to himself these days. Perhaps the shepherd was the one really in control, and he had used his cries of wolf to bend the townspeople to his will. Anyone whose flock was threatened that often must be doing something wrong.

And what was this about the birds and rabbits of the forest? They were peaceful! They could never be convinced to join with those who preyed upon them. Flocks of sheep are old and backwards and they are a drain on the town, the people thought. If the birds and rabbits hate the sheep they must have good reason to do so.

Again the shepherd called out, but the townspeople rolled over in their beds and stuffed their ears with sheep's wool. The shepherd's cries of wolf had made them feel guilty, and so they had found reasons for why they did not have to listen. And besides, the townspeople thought as they pulled their wolf skins over their heads and their eyes glowed red, the sheep really were delicious...

[hargrove-mayfields]

the tags on your football Billy story about autistic kids not being allowed to play sports, gave me the idea of Steve with autism not being allowed on the basketball team and how Billy and maybe Tommy if you want since you write kegboys sometimes would react

It doesn’t take Billy long to notice him, the benchwarmer boy who sits on the sidelines, never getting his shot in a single game, just riding the bench with a smile on his face.

At first he sort of pegs it to mean the kid is just really not good, maybe riding the tails of his daddy’s sportsmanship legacy, but then Billy realizes something, that this kid doesn’t even get to play at practice.

He shows up and he sits there like being excluded is the happiest he’s ever been, and the only time he ever has the ball in his hands at all is if it’s to toss it to one of the boys on the court when it rolls to him.

Despite this though, he has his very own jersey. Number zero. Harrington.

Billy asks Tommy after practice once who this mysterious jersey kid is, and he smiles sort of tight, like maybe Billy shouldn’t have asked him that, and tells him, “I’ll introduce you.”

Tommy walks over to the kid and tells him something that makes him light up, jump to his feet and follow Tommy back over, “Billy, this is my best friend, Steve Harrington.”

Steve just sort of waves, so Billy jumps straight into it. This kid intrigues him and he wants to know more, “There a reason you don’t play, Harrington?”

In response he shrugs his shoulders, hands stuffed in the pockets of his way too big basketball shorts, “I’m not allowed.”

“Why not? You fail some test or something?” Billy tries to ask lightly, not noticing the way Tommy’s face scrunches up before Steve drops a bombshell on him instead, “They don’t let special ed kids on the basketball team.”

And if that’s not bad enough, Tommy then adds, though significantly more bitter than even Steve is, “Or on any team for that matter, whether it’s sports or clubs or debate, you name it. School board denies every last application.”

“Oh.” Billy frowns, totally dumbfounded, his school in California never had any issues with that, “Oh that- that’s bullshit.”

“I know.” They say at the same time, prompting Billy to ask, “They don’t even have like, a separate team?”

“Not enough kids would do it.” Tommy says, and he gets a sharp look from Steve, who corrects him quickly, “Not enough kids could get permission to do it.”

“But that’s such bullshit.” Billy repeats, not very helpfully.

“Nothing we can do about it. We’ve tried everything. Not even momma Harrington could convince the school board, and let me tell you, that woman is scary.”

Steve elbows Tommy for that one, and Tommy laughs softly, throws an arm around his shoulder, but Billy is thinking, biting the corner of his nail in concentration, “Why don’t we start our own team?”

“I don’t know.” Steve’s face scrunches up, and he turns to Tommy, like he doesn’t trust what Billy says, so Billy continues, “No, I’m serious. School says you can’t play for them, so fuck ‘em. There’s courts in the park, I have a ball, and I’m out there half the time watching my little sister anyways. Let’s start our own team.”

Tommy answers for him, “Practice takes up too much time. We’re not gonna be much of a team unless we’re going to be playing at night or in the winter.”

“Then we quit the tigers.” Billy shrugs, like it’s obvious.

Instantly Tommy narrows his eyes, “Very funny, man.”

On the other hand though, Steve looks at him with awe written all over his face, eyes wide and spelling, “You’d really quit for me?”

And Billy, he plays it off like that look doesn’t make his heart melt, claiming, “For you and for Max who’s been talking my ear off about how much she wants to play soccer and whose heart is going to break when she finds out she can’t.”

Convinced, Tommy looks over at Steve, “If you’re in Stevie, I’m in too.”

Steve seems like he’s considering his options, drumming his fingers on the outside of his thigh, occasionally humming softly in thought, and it’s making Billy impatient.

“So?” He asks, to which Steve nods a confirmation to his offer, his hair bouncing with his enthusiasm.

Tommy cracks a crooked smile, holds out a hand for Billy to shake, seal the deal, “You’ve got yourself a team, Hargrove.”

They decide not to give their little team a name, the idea of being called something feels too exclusive, which was the reason they’d all quit the school's team in the first place. Billy had gotten in big trouble when his dad found out he quit for wasting their time and money on basketball, but that was all bullshit anyways, games were only usually a half hour long and were free to get into for the players family, and the school paid for the uniforms.

But that was what he said and what he’d been going to punish Billy for until they found out about the reasoning behind quitting, after which Susan was flattered he cared so much about his little sister, and he got his permission to freely go down to the park and play with the “special” kid.

Neil of course didn’t care about him doing it for Max, he was just concerned with Billy’s public image. Playing ball with the richest family in town's dopey son did nothing but good things for the way their neighbors saw him, so he’d allow it.

A few weeks into their games though, which are mostly just playing HORSE or teaching Steve how to do trickier shots since no coach ever would, Billy has to bring Max along because nobody was going to be home and she wasn’t allowed to be by herself. It’s a dreary day so there aren’t many people around at all, so he decides he’s going to loosen her leash, and walks her over to the playground (that they can see clearly from the courts, he’s not that irresponsible.)

He teasingly offers to push Max on the swings or lift her up to the monkey bars, making her roll her eyes and proudly declare that she’s not a baby anymore, so he chuckles and leaves her be, walking back to the basketball hoops.

Tommy and Steve are just sitting on the old wooden bench just off to the side of the court, waiting for Billy to get back because he’s their little impromptu coach and they can’t start without him, but he notices that they’re sitting awful close together, and between them, Tommy’s hand sits slightly on top of Steve’s, pinky fingers linked together.

Now he knows these two are affectionate, he couldn’t even count how many times Tommy picked Steve up after he made a good shot or ruffled his hair and smiled at him when he messed up, but that was all just friendly affection.

This was different though, he could tell it was from the way Tommy’s eyes snap up and he pulls his hand away, the both of them looking away from each other guiltily.

He feels a little something like jealousy in his chest, or maybe it was just anxiety at the fact that they’d been so obviously holding hands in the public park, but either way, he just kind of freezes up, looking between their two terrified faces until Tommy’s turns angry, standing from the bench so fast the old rusty things creaks loudly and Steve has to cover his ears.

He grabs the front of the baggy jersey Billy wears from his old school's team, the bears, and gets right up in his face, sneering, “You gonna say something, Hargrove?”

And Billy’s not afraid of Tommy, he might be mean, but he’s on his toes to threaten him, and he’s pretty sure they both know Billy would win the fight anyways. He’s not going to fight him though, and he makes that clear, putting his hands up as a clear sign of not going to sock Tommy for yelling at him, “Secrets safe with me, dudes. You go down, I’m going down with you.”

Tommy doesn’t get it though, because he growls, “Right. ‘Cause all that matters is what will happen to your reputation after giving up your precious sport just to hang with a couple of fags, right?”

“Tom.” Steve snaps, but he gets ignored, Billy arguing over him, “Actually, no. You know all that talk about queer kids flocking together without even knowing? That doesn’t come from nothing. I out you, it’s putting a target on my back, and from there it won’t be not long before a little birdie tells the wrong person the right rumor and we’re all dead.”

“Oh.” Tommy says softly, his face falling.

Billy nods sarcastically in response, “Yeah, oh. So let go of my damn shirt before I find a reason to punch you in the face.”

“Can we just play basketball?” Comes a timid request from behind them, so Tommy lets go, wipes his hands on his shorts, and answers him, “‘Course we can, Stevie.”

It doesn’t take long for them to get bored though, none of them are really in the mood to play after that. They play a small game that’s pretty much just Tommy blocking Billy the whole time, but after he shoots the ball they all just let it roll, none of them caring enough to keep the play going. So instead, Tommy offers up his place to hang out there.

It sounds at least better than this, so Billy drops Max off back at home, making her promise not to do anything stupid to get them in trouble until he gets back later that night, and heads straight to Tommy’s like they planned.

The whole drive he’s worrying that they’re gonna pissed at him and beating himself up for not just pretending like he didn’t notice, to the point where he almost just drives right past, but Steve waves at his car from the front window, and he can’t do all this petty angry shit to him.

Tommy’s house is empty for the night, so that means two things, that they’re free to drink as much as they want, (smoking’s a no go though, the smell is too strong and makes Steve upset), and that Steve sits right on Tommy’s lap like it’s nothing.

Which, it is nothing. Billy just told them he was gay too, and now they don’t have to hide from their best friend, so it’s common sense that they wouldn’t.

But Billy, well, he wouldn’t say he’s jealous watching the two of them together, it just makes his chest burn every time they touch or laugh at some joke and whisper amongst themselves like he isn’t even there, or when Steve kisses Tommy’s cheek.

Yeah no, there’s no pretending, Billy is totally jealous. He’s had a thing for Tommy since like, day one of practice when he bounced a basketball back in his own face trying to show off, and Steve for just as long, yearning to know more about the pretty faced mystery kid who turned out to be a total sweetheart and won him over. It’s tearing him to shreds watching them just being happy together without being a part of that.

He wonders if these small town boys have ever even heard of having more than one partner other than like, mormons, and if they haven’t, how is he supposed to bring it up without sounding like a total weirdo. Maybe he could claim that he was just trying not to be left out since they were probably the only queer kids in Hawkins. Or maybe not and Tommy would try to kick his ass again for even trying.

He doesn’t have to do much wondering though, because as pointedly as he’s trying to ignore them, Steve keeps getting closer to Billy on the couch until he’s sitting in his lap, and Billy has to ask, blue eyes going a little wide, cheeks flushing red in a way that had nothing to do with the sunburn he’d gotten at the park earlier, “What’re you doing Steve?”

“You included me. Now I’m including you.” Steve hums and leans his head on Billy’s shoulder, holding eye contact with Tommy.

To say that Billy is flustered and doesn’t know what to do with himself is more than an understatement. He'd like to say he’s not the most inexperienced one here, but it’s not looking good, because he’s flushed as red as a tomato, and the only thing he can think to say is just, “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.” Tommy says and smiles that big goofy smile of his, a playful imitation of their little argument from before, “And I’d much rather you kiss me than punch me.”

[happyreid187]

Privilege - Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

WC: 2.1 K

A/N: Sad Spencer post nightmare comfort. Discovering and sharing feelings about each other. Mild angst then fluff. I wrote this after my season 8 rewatch but it’s not explicitly situated in any particular season. 

Warnings: Brief mentions of Spence’s various trauma; case issues, mom issues, drug use, generalized dark and twistiness. Insecurity. Swearing. Single sentence implying reader grew up religious. References to sex but not actual smut. 

____

With both of us working insane hours, we agreed early on to be casual, and then completely and entirely ignored that agreement in every way except verbiage. Avoiding labels and verbal expressions of affection, I pretended that it wasn’t emotional self destruction to spend every waking hour with this man who was notably not my boyfriend. With the amount of affection between us, it was easy to pretend it was something more. When we weren’t working, I essentially lived in his bed.

____

I was deep asleep when I heard him whimpering, waking to find him tossing and turning, breathing quickly. It took me a second to get my bearings, but when I did, I woke him as gently as I could

“Spencer! Spence.” His eyes shot open, and he immediately jumped, looked to me with his eyes welling up, and started shaking.

“Hey,” my voice was desperate as I wrapped my arms around him, “Baby, what’s the matter?” The pet name was generally reserved for other activities in this bed, but it felt appropriate now. I ran my fingers through his hair, trying to calm him. “Was it about a case?”

“It was about...” he started. “No, I don’t want to freak you out!” He sort of tossed and turned again, now in my lap. “This isn’t your job, you shouldn’t have to deal with this.” He sounded angry; with himself, and the situation. I tried to ignore the feeling that’s he might be angry with me.

“Why would it freak me out? Your job is depressing as shit, Spence. This is kind of predictable. Talking through it with you? None of this is work for me. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but you can.” I said, waiting for him to decide how to proceed.

He fiddled with his hands in that nervous way of his. “It was about you. First, you were breaking? Like glass on a windshield? Cracking but not falling apart. And everything around us was breaking; the phones and then the walls and then your face,” his voice broke then, “and then my own chest.”

Where the tears were only threatening to overflow before, he was really crying now, in a way I’d never seen him do before. In a way grown men rarely do in our terrible society if they can avoid it. In a way that made it hard for either of us to breathe. “But then it sort of mixed with work, and there was an unsub and he had you, and I couldn’t get to you. I tried, but I couldn’t get to you, and then...” he paused there, and I inferred the rest by his pained silence.

“You don’t have to keep going, I get it. And I’m not freaked out. I’m right here, Spencer. You’ve got me, and I’ve got you too. You are okay. You’re okay.” he didn’t say anything for a minute, and I rethought my words. “I’m not trying to belittle or silence you. I know you don’t feel okay. But you’re here with me, and no one’s broken, and you’re breathing, and I’m breathing, and you’re okay.”

“I’m not worried about me...” he grumbled, like it was obvious. Like I was wasting our time, worrying about him.

“Well I’m fine. I’m good. I’m happy to be here for you.”

He looked up at me doubtfully. “How can you be happy to be woken up at 4:02 am?”

Too sleepy to veil my feelings entirely, with words like adoration and devotion drifting through my head, I settled on saying, “It’s a privilege to have the chance to be here for you, and support you, and help you feel better. I have you, and you have me; okay? I’m here.”

“I’ve got you...” he softly echoed my words from earlier.

“You’ve got me.” I answered easily. It was a simple, honest fact to share.

There was a shift in him then. He pushed himself up with one arm, leaning back and staring at me, looking exasperated and vaguely frantic, like he just realized something was wrong. He looked almost angry as he asked “What the fuck are we doing?

I didn’t even know how to begin to answer that question. “I’m sorry?”

“I’m having nightmares about losing you, you’re like, taking over my subconscious, and renting all this space in my head, and then I wake up to find you here, in my bed, drying my tears and calling it a privilege! Like do you have to be so... I don’t know. Warm?” Well, that was a new one. I had never known that to be a bad thing, particularly with him. He flocked to my sentimentality like a moth to a flame.

He wasn’t done though. “I never intended to care about someone this much. It’s confusing for me. I know you have your catholic guilt, but you don’t have to martyr yourself for me. Dealing with my shit is emphatically not a blessing.” He took a deep breath and braced himself. He half smiled, half sobbed, and to be frank, he was freaking me the fuck out. “Unless you..” he trailed off. IQ of 187; an epic communicator, this one. I gave him a look that begged him to continue, holding my tongue as if he would break, like the dream, if I spoke. He sighed heavily, trying to catch his breath. I reached over hesitantly, unsure if he wanted to be touched, terrified of making it worse. Slowly, I wiped away the tears on both cheeks, willing him to look at me. He didn’t, choosing his lap instead.

I waited for him to continue. “I don’t have a lot of experience with fuck buddies,” he spit the last two words like they repulsed him, like they didn’t fit right on his tongue. Foreign words with uncertain and unsettling definitions. “...but I don’t think it’s supposed to feel like this.”

“Feel like what?” Despite the tears and the heavy air that threatened to suffocate me, I felt a new feeling. Like I would maybe feel better soon. I silently begged him to speak faster, hoping he could somehow telepathically pick up on my anxiety as I hung on every word.

“A privilege. That’s just...” he paused again, shaking his head. I could feel my anxiety coursing through my veins in a bizarrely literal sense. I wasn’t entirely sure where he was going with this, and I waited in suspense as he chose every word carefully. He then looked with me with the warmth I’d come to know, to expect, and to crave. “I know you’re a really tender person but why would you do this if we're just sleeping together?”

IQ of 187, this one.

After his lengthy monologue with its intensely painful pauses I cut straight to the point. “Are we?”

The sadness vanished from his face, leaving nothing in its place but wheels turning. No more damned pauses; I have to be brave now. “I’m not.”

“What?” I couldn’t figure out what to make of his expression. It wasn’t relief. Concern, maybe? Or disbelief? “Just sleeping with you that is. Does that make you upset?”

“No, no, y/n/n, it doesn’t make me upset.” his eyes meeting my face. I could feel that he was about to ramble, finally, and I was intensely grateful. “It depends on what you really want. It’s hard for me to believe that you actually want this.” he points at himself, like that explained his insecure thinking. Honestly, how dare he speak about my person in such a way, but now wasn’t the time to critique his criticism.

“You want to be woken up by nightmares after cases? To sleep alone while I’m gone? and when I’m around deal with my neurosis and awkwardness and rambling? and family drama? and drug cravings?” He dropped his eyes and his voice, “You could do so much better.”

We didn’t have time to even begin to unpack all of that. Not in the middle of the night, on the edge of everything we both want. I could write a novel explaining how he is in fact the very best I can imagine, but that would take time to convince him of. Time like years. Time like marriage.

Again trying to move this conversation to the conclusion I ached for just a bit faster, I answered directly, “Yes. I want that. I want you.” Like it was the simplest thing in the world.

I searched his face for some sort of happiness or disgust but received a blank stare and a look of bewilderment.

“I just want you. I’ve wanted you this whole time. I thought you would figure it out.” I laughed, and he smiled, a real smile that touched his hazel eyes that somehow sparkled in the dimly lit room, finally. “With fuck buddies, I don’t typically snuggle and go on museum dates or stop seeing other people or stick around for months.”

“You want me?” he smiled, but doubt loomed, and his smile fell as his long fingers traced my jaw.

“You say that now, but I think you’re going to find that I am a difficult person to love.” He said, as if I didn’t already know him. As if I didn’t already see him in all of his brilliance and darkness, all of his complexity and baggage. As if knowing him hadn’t been a precursor to loving him.

“Spencer, everyone thinks that about themselves.” I replied, greeted with still more disbelief. I continued in spite of him. “Besides,” I shrugged with a small smile, like my conclusion was entirely self evident, “It’s too late now.”

“What, you think that about yourself? First of all, you are unbelievably easy to love. The easiest in the whole world, probably. I know that that sounds hyperbolic, but I really mean it - I sincerely think that you are the single most lovable woman on the planet.” he rambled, talking with his hands and earning a tearful chuckle from me. “In my world at least. You are in fact, despite my best efforts, impossible not to...” he paused to physically shove the thought away, moving forward with a grimace.

“Second of all, what do you mean too late? I have a feeling I might know what you’re going to say. Please say it, y/n,” he whispered like that would make it less scary. “Or do you want me to say it? I don’t want to spook you but... it’s too late for what?”

“Too late to stop myself from loving you.”

 Finally, finally a look of understanding graced his face. A look like he believed me. He smiled that stunning, whole face smile of his that was reserved for special occasions.

 “Can you say the whole thing?”

“I love you, Spencer.”

“I love you, too.”

He was only half sitting up anyways, so when I kissed him he fell to the bed, and protested immediately. “No! I’m so gross and snotty, stop.” I settled on peppering kisses on his neck and damp cheeks instead.

I laid my head on his chest, murmuring, “You can go back to sleep, and when you wake up, I’ll still be loving you, and I won’t be broken because of it, and I certainly won’t be gone.”

“Okay,” he responded, voice still broken, but no matter. He’ll heal. He’ll believe me more with time. Eyes heavy and stinging, my adrenaline eventually waned, and I was about to fall back asleep, when his voice pulled me back.

“Just to be completely clear, this is no longer a fuck buddy situation. Like, I'm your boyfriend. Right?”

“Was it ever really a fuck buddy situation?” I laughed “But if it was, it’s over. You are mine, Spencer Reid. If that wasn’t obvious.”

I could hear his smile in his voice “Sorry, it’s so late, and my brain isn’t really working and I just wanted to make absolutely sure.”

He paused for a few minutes.

“I’ll check back again in the morning.”

“I’ll still be here.”

~~~

In my half asleep state, his soft words barely registered. “Good morning, sweet girl. I’m so lucky to get to love you.”

“I love you too.” I mumbled, smiling without opening my eyes. There’s his confirmation. He’s always been one for collecting good data, I suppose.

“Please keep doing that.”

[summonerscenarios]

So, mc adopting at least one of each of the Child mobs, how would that go?

IT MAY BE 4AM BUT THAT'S NEVER STOPPED ME BEFORE LETS DO SOME MF HCS.

Sadly I was only able to work on two of the mob kiddos as I didn't want this to get too long but I still hope its okay~!

Also just a heads up a lot of this is a pure waffle of information based on my own interpretations of the mobs so here's hoping I did a good job with them lmao.

---------

It wouldn’t have been the first time you’d ended up inadvertently adopting someone, nor will it be the last knowing your luck. It’s not like you intentionally do anything to draw people to you, it just so happened that the things that you did and situations you got wrapped up in led to you getting to know all kinds of people in the process. And those people saw you in all kinds of ways - most saw you as friends, others saw someone else in you, more than a few made no attempts to hide their blatant flirting - and, rarely, a few would even see you as a role model,a mentor or parental figure to look up to.

You honestly have no idea why, after all, it’s not as though you go out of your way to make particularly responsible decisions (if anything, you get yourself in enough trouble that you’d imagine you’re anything but a role model) but a lot of the younger transients and students seem to flock towards your presence, looking for comfort, advice, or just someone who respects them. At first it was just the younger members of your guild that you technically took under your wing - as the Guildmaster you assumed it was only natural to look out for them, and you’d long gotten used to protecting Agyo and Kijimuna, wanting to make sure that the only thing they had to worry about was having the chance to be kids rather than getting dragged into the Guild’s app-based affairs. It’s not like responsible parental figures are easy to come by in this world of app-battles and fighting, so that’s perhaps why when you start taking a more protective, nurturing role with the younger ones that more of them begin popping up.

Surprisingly, the ghosts are some of the first mob children that you noticed began flocking towards you. Roaming spirits are unusual but certainly not rare, and it honestly breaks your heart a little to see so many young ghosts lingering around in the unexplored corners of the city, searching for one thing or another. Things feel...off, for a while before you can pin down the issue - you start feeling as though you’re being watched when you’re in the guildhouse by someone other than your teammates, and when your attempts to shake off the uneasy feeling doesn’t work, you decide to bring it up to your fellow Guild members in case it’s someone trying to spy. You want to make sure it’s not someone who can bring danger to the guild, but you don’t have much of a chance to set up a search of the building when the D-evils come tottering into your field of view, screeching up a storm and motioning towards an otherwise unassuming corner of the window.

Turns out you weren’t the only one noticing the other presence, as Shiro’s D-evils seem to have picked up on it to - and when your attention snaps over to the window to see what they’re pointing to you barely catch a glimpse of the flickering figure of a ghost child as they disappear from view. From that point on you start spotting the child more often - he’s shy or wary, always lingering someone just out of the corner of your eye but never getting any closer almost like he’s afraid. He seems to have taken an interest in you though, especially whenever the younger guild members come around to spend time at the guild, and it isn’t long before you notice that he’s intently watching the way you watch over and care for the kids of the guild - he looks almost sad in these instances, but never dares to get any closer and disappears as soon as you turn to look at him. Over time it becomes almost normal to have a resident ghost at the guild (though Agyo still shudders at the mention of ghosts despite having seen the kid plenty of times since arriving). He seems to be more at ease after a while of watching you, and things finally come to a head one day when you’re playing videogames with Hanuman and the other kids, noticing that the little ghost has wandered far closer than he’d ever done in the past, watching the small screen setup on the floor with an avid interest that seems far happier than the forlorn looks he’d had before. Taking a chance you tilt your head to look over at the ghost child, motioning him to come over and join; he disappears for a moment, startled, but right as you start to worry you may have scared the kid off he rematerializes, inching hesitantly closer and closer till he’s hovering beside the rest of your group, eyes fixed to the characters on screen with a child-like wonder.

You aren’t quite sure how this ended up with you adopting the ghost child yourself. It’s just one day you were talking about how you were pretty much adopted by the teachers at school and how you’d like to pay it forward some day, and the next you were talking about ‘son’ this, and ‘might as well take the kid under your wing’ that - you were practically acting like an impromptu parent for like a fifth of the people you knew anyway, so what was actually adopting a child? Toji had just about choked to death when you’d made the unfortunate decision to announce that fact mid-drink, and Shiro spent more than his fair share of time probing you with the legal questions surrounding a student adopting a child, ghost transient or not. Ryota seems incredibly excited by the idea however, gushing about being an uncle and wondering if your new son can eat and if so what his favorite food is - plenty of questions for a later time.

Ghost is certainly the most clingy of the children you end up adopting, and it’s clear from the get go in the sense that the poor little one is essentially glued to your side from the moment you take the venture to actually adopting him. With few things remaining in the physical world to cling onto, the familial bond is something that the little one cherishes and he absolutely refuses to budge on letting it, and by proxy, you, go. For a while he actually fears you’re going to leave him and take back what you said about protecting him and being a good parent. He of course had parents once, and their lack of presence at his side now paints a tragic picture no matter what way you look at it, so the kids got more than a few attachment issues you need to work through. Ghost doesn’t really talk too much, instead relying on gestures and interacting with things around him to talk to you and others - it takes a little bit to get used to if you’re unfamiliar with some of the gestures but it’s easy to pick up as time goes on.

Definitely one of the more well behaved children of the bunch, given that once you’ve convinced him that you’re not abandoning him he’s dead set on making you proud. He gets antsy when you’re not around, spending most of his time at the guild when you're at classes, but he takes to following Agyo around instead during these times. Agyo’s more than a little startled at first, and is a bit awkward about the whole situation as he processes it, but before long Agyo’s not only getting along with your ghostly son, but he’s also teaching him the ‘lion dog duties’ that he’s been teaching you - you’ll never quite forget walking in to Agyo giving the poor kid a detailed rundown on the upkeep of the guildhouse and all that it pertains.

It was supposed to only be the one child, you swear, but damn if you haven’t got a bleeding heart and a knack for attracting trouble. Word travels around fast about your adoption, and as more people learn about your impromptu push to parenthood people start coming to you for help - namely, kids with nowhere else to go. Maybe it’s your bleeding heart or savior complex, but before long one kid becomes two, and then two becomes three, and soon enough you’ve got four kids on your hands.

There’s no denying that things get a little bit rocky when you start taking in other children. Despite the other kids in the guild, Ghost has technically been the only child up to this point, and with your attention shifting from both him and the other children at once it’s a sudden change - one that you thankfully discussed with him first to make sure he was okay. Even with the okay though, Ghost is more than a little anxious when you bring the second child, a nether sprite, ‘home’, especially because of how loud she is by comparison. Nether sprite is an absolute ball of energy and mischievous to boot, so she more than makes for an interesting parallel to the otherwise quiet Ghost you’ve been taking care of the past few months.

She’s a handful, especially during the first few weeks that she’s settling in - it takes her a while to really start seeing the place as home, and even longer for her to even consider you a parental figure (she’s seen you as more of a babysitter till you proved you were willing to stick around and put the effort in to be a good parent). Once she does settle in however she takes to the place quickly, and, to your surprise, your two kids become thick as thieves. The Nether sprite catches on quickly to how Ghost communicates, and given his penchant to linger around those he’s close to and follow them around she’s more than happy to drag him all over the shop from one activity to another - it’s a surprising development but one you actively encourage. Unfortunately as I mentioned she’s still mischievous, though tones it down from anything too troublesome if it’ll cause you too much grief.

However that hasn’t stopped the amount of times you’ve gotten calls from someone about the kind of trouble you two little ones have wound up getting themselves into - looks like they both picked up your knack for getting intentionally and unintentionally dragged into the weirdest events (sure, it’s fun when you do it, but having your kids doing it only serves to give you grey hairs from the stress.) And things only get crazier once the other kids end up coming along, for both better and worse - but that’s a story for another time.

[justasimptm]

The Bride C14

I wait a few minutes until the doorway slimes up and I can faintly hear them screaming, my heart pulls at their fear but I know I can’t risk doing anything. So instead, I turn around, close my ears to their begging, allowing it to fall silent and make my way back to the castle. The way back feels longer, filled with guilt, and the feeling of eyes on me that I can’t quite place. Instead of looking around for my stalker I keep moving, more focused on getting back and forming my revenge plan against those wretches I have to call sisters. Since they all but confirmed they were the main reason my mother had the tools and idea to put me in the cellar, they deserve anything I bring to them. And better yet, they’ve essentially given me all the things I need to be able to do it. All I need is a bit of help, and they’ve provided me with all the people I need.

My plan starts as soon as I get home.

Get home, drop to my knees on the front steps before my mother begging for her forgiveness

“Mother, please forgive me. I went after that girl because I didn’t want her to harm us, I didn’t realize she had one of your knives, I could have sworn they were still locked. I told him not to touch me but he took advantage of my weakened state to try to gain your favor. It’ll never happen again I promise, what can I do to make it up to you?” Every word out of my mouth is a lie, every plea for forgiveness a smoke screen. I keep my eyes on the ground, so I can force faux tears into them before I spare a single glance up at her. She hums softly before reaching out one of her hands to up my cheek and hold my gaze on hers. What she sees must satisfy her because she gently helps me to my feet before wiping away the fake tears that I pushed past their crest to spill down my cheeks.

“Of course I forgive you, my darling daughter. I just get so worried, you understand. Come, let's get you fed, we can discuss the rest later on.” She coos, grabbing my hand and leading me sniffling up to her room, past my sisters who jeer at me from the bottom of the stairs. “Bela, send up one of the girls with a bottle of my special wine please. Your sister and I are going to have some time together. If anything happens while we’re doing so, I will hold you responsible.”

The look on her face almost makes me smile, but I’m careful to keep my downtrodden mask on so they don’t see. That day my mother nearly spoon feeds me as she gently scolds me for not being careful. She promises to get rid of any silver so this doesn’t happen again and how she was so scared she was going to lose me. The room is filled with mutual promises, on her end that she’ll trust me more and get rid of the silver, be more cognisant of situations I get put in that are out of my control.

On my end, I’ll stay away from Heisenberg, and that I’ll be more careful when I go out, and that I’ll ask her permission before I do so. My promises are filled with nothing but lies. The only promise I mean with my entire being is that I’ll be more careful, but not of going out. I promise to myself that I’ll be more careful while inside these walls, the walls that once nurtured me and grew me and started to kill me. I promise to myself that nothing in this castle will kill me, and if anything tries, I’ll kill it first.

Do tons of little things for my mother, bringing her her favorite flowers, wines, blood, anything to make her happy, and keep my sisters away.

My sisters seem to pick up on what I’m doing, try to shove themselves into time with her and I, but like a switch flipped she tells them to go away because her and I are ‘bonding’ and ‘recovering from our argument’. They seem to cause lots of their own problems, which works in my favor. They’re too stuttery trying to get my mothers attention again, and make too many mistakes. Makes it much easier to slip back into my place in front and push them further from her favor.

Get some help from the help.

This ends up being trickier than I expected. The lies my sisters told about me coupled with their psychotic behaviors while I was in the dungeon makes them all uneasy to be around me. I finally manage to corner Anca, one of our older girls, outside my room, and it takes me almost ten minutes to convince her I’m not tricking her or trying to hurt her. When she finally settles and stops looking for an escape, I drop my act, let her see who I actually am, and pray to god she’ll listen to me. At first it looks like she wants to laugh in my face, but when I tell her about how I changed, she sombers. When she finally agrees she’ll help me and she can get the others to as well, I tell her the plan, at least the parts I have worked out. Within hours they’ve started, whispering just loud enough for us to hear.

They talk about the giant mess my sisters made in the cellar, that they knocked over an entire rack of mother's favorite wine. That starts her going, which we knew it would when I asked them to tip it and make sure every bottle smashed. The next day, they talk about how they overheard my sisters talking about how they think some of my mothers rules are unfair. The third day, about how they heard Cassandra say she thinks Heisenberg is interesting. The fourth day is what really sets my mother on edge, one of the maids is changing the bedding in Daniela’s room as mother walks by and ‘accidentally’ drops one of the silver knives my mother got rid of, very loudly, so that my mother looks in and sees it on the floor.

Mother storms through the castle shouting for my sisters, who flock to her side as soon as she says their names. She screams at them for being so careless, that their little stunt could have killed me. She goes on and on, digging into their reckless behaviors, tearing them to shreds out in the open. Part of me feels like I should be remorseful, but after everything they did to me, they deserve it.

Mid rant I swoop in, reaching up and placing a hand on her wrist to draw her attention to me. Softly I ask her to forgive them, that they missed her and that they didn’t mean it. With my pleading she agrees, telling them they need to behave better and then walking off, leaving the four of us standing together. My smile drops the second she’s out of sight, leaving my face cold and calm. They look at me as if they’re sizing me up, as I walk towards them.

“Look at me very, very carefully.” I start, levelling my voice with cruel smoothness. “I said it once before. She is my mother. No matter what you think you can do to me, I can make it much worse for you. So be more careful when you try to kill me next. Because if you aren’t successful, I’ll make sure you’re the ones who end up dead. Good night, sisters.”

@foggyturtleknightangel @beingviolentlyhappy @inesalexandra1995 @loveboldlywingedangel130

[thevindicativevordan]

My Superfamily Set-Up

By and large I’m fairly happy with the upcoming Infinite Frontier status quo for the Superfamily. Granted that’s in part because I’m still convinced Kara will get an ongoing or mini in 2021, probably to coincide with her show returning, and PKJ hinted at plans for Steel on Twitter. But Kon has escaped the Titans dumpsterfire for a little while, and I’ve heard good things about Thompson as a writer as well. Kenan is popping back up in a one shot written by Yang that will hopefully herald more appearances in Batman/Superman. Jon is still co-protagonist with Clark in the main books, Tanya is in the Future State Shazam book and also a candidate for the FS Justice League book, so hopefully she’ll be in Titans Academy, and Lois is poised to be a big player in the upcoming Checkmate mini by Bendis. So fingers crossed, all the core members of the Superfamily will be in stuff come end of 2021.

Now that said, were DC to suddenly realize that I alone can save Superman, and asked me what kind of status quo I would like (whether for a mainline or Elseworld book makes no difference to me), this is the basic set up that I would go with:

Superman - I’d do a traditional status quo. Superman is disguised as Clark Kent, mild mannered reporter, married to Lois Lane, etc. I’d have Ma and Pa go back to being dead since I still am not a fan of them being alive. Note that this isn’t a reaction against Bendis, I loved Bendis’ run, but I do want to play with the traditional status quo a little bit before diving into something different. Especially since so many Superman writers have traditionally completely wasted the potential of Superman’s status quo.

Lois Lane - Similar to Superman I’d go with a more traditional status quo at the start. She works at the Daily Planet, she and Clark are married, she’s the best reporter in town, etc. I would eventually have her take over as editor-in-chief of the Daily Planet from Perry, I thought that was a great idea the New 52 wasted, and I love the idea of her and Cat Grant being rivals with the Daily Planet and Catco competing. 

Jon Kent - I’d restore kid Jon and toss him back to the Super Sons, not because I think what’s been done with him has been bad, but mostly because I don’t want to write him as Superman, I want to write Clark. Jon seems to be being set up to be co-Superman, and I just don’t have any interest in writing that. To restore kid Jon without destroying Bendis’ run which I enjoyed, I’d explain that teen Jon is actually the “evil” Jon we saw from the Super Sons of Tomorrow future. He went back in time and rescued his kid self from Earth 3, and explained to him that he wanted to prevent that future from coming to pass, but that he needed to take his younger self’s place to do so. Kid Jon agreed, after all he was terrified of becoming evil in both Tomasi’s Super Sons of Tomorrow and Bendis The Man of Steel, and has basically been in hiding watching the events and also studying Hypertime so he can learn how to avoid ending up evil. 

Clark and Lois would blow up at the Jons for the lie when Teen Jon judges he’s changed things enough for his kid self to return, but both Jons could point out that both Clark and Lois have kept secrets when they deemed it necessary from each other and Jon. That would be a neat conversation to have, and a way to continue the untraditional family dynamic that Bendis set up. You could keep teen Jon as a time anomaly until Hypertime catches up with him and restores him to his timeline, with him continuing to be Superman as penance, while kid Jon goes and pals around with Damian in Williamson’s Robin or whatever.

Superwoman/Kara Zor-El - I like the idea of Kara “graduating” to the Superwoman name. It’s open right now given Lana’s retirement, and I think it would suit Kara. I would keep Kara in National, it’s her own little corner to play in, but I would keep that development from (I believe it was) Andrea Shea, where Kara gets fired from Catco because she’s a terrible intern due to always running off to be a heroine. She and Kal talk, Kara admits she doesn’t really want to be a journalist, and so she goes and interns at STAR Labs. I hate how DC keeps turning all the members of the Superfamily into Clark clones. It’s goddamn stupid and I want them to please STOP. Why the hell would Kara want to go into journalism anyway? We’ve never even seen a damn journalist on Krypton! It’s a stupid thing they did on the TV show because they wanted to swipe Clark’s stuff. Let Kara be the scientist of the Els, the one who carries on the family tradition. What form that takes is something I’m open too, I liked Venditti making her interested in history in his annual, maybe make Kara an anthropologist? That would be hilarious. 

Also give Lena to Supergirl, they can be best friends, enemies, lovers, I don’t care. But Lena is wasting away in a vault under Lexcorp last we saw, and that’s a damn shame considering how popular CW Lena is. I’d also add Natasha Irons (who I’d rename Mastersmith) and Tanya Spears (Powerhouse) to Supergirl’s supporting cast, they could play off each other as three supergenuis women).

Kon-El/Conner Kent/Scion - I’m really excited to see what Thompson is going to do with Kon on the Suicide Squad, but here’s what I would do with him. Kon would finally be able to shake off the Superboy moniker and leave that to Jon. Instead he’d take the name “Scion” as a reflection of his origins, and a tie-in to his new status quo. In the wake of Death Metal, Lex Luthor would abruptly step down as head of Lexcorp, stating that he needs time to redefine himself in the wake of his latest attempt to justify himself as the true hero by serving Perpetua, ending up with him needing Superman to save the day again. While he is away, he’s turned over complete control of Lexcorp to his sole heir: Conner. Conner is now head of one of the evilest megacorps in existence, and is one of the wealthiest men alive. Conner knows this is just another maneuver by Lex in his neverending crusade against Superman, but he’s determined to not just be another pawn. He accepts control, renames Lexcorp Superman, Inc. His mission will be to transform the megacorp into the force for good it pretends to be. Conner will have to take on not only Lex loyalists and traitorous underlings who would love to be CEO themselves within Lexcorp, but new megacorps who have flocked to Metropolis in hope of establishing themselves, now that the former Master of Metropolis has abdicated his throne. Threats within and threats without, but armed with the powers/morals of Superman and the charm/brains of Lex Luthor, Kon is just cocky enough to think he can handle it.

John Henry Irons/Steel - It will be a big year for John Henry Irons. His private company Steelworks is about to go public and make him a billionaire. Lana Lang has accepted his marriage proposal and they’re due to be wed. His niece Natasha has left the nest and is off working at STAR Labs. Irons is posed to finally resurrect the decrepit Suicide Slum and allow it to catch up to the rest of the City of Tomorrow. However there are problems: new megacorps are moving into the city in the wake of Lex Luthor leaving, people are disappearing from Suicide Slum with dark rumors are spreading about the reasons why, and the people of Suicide Slum are accusing Irons of planning to gentrify the borough. Making matters worse, weapons that Irons designed as a young man are appearing on the streets of Metropolis, attracting negative attention from the media and putting Steelworks at risk. Irons is going to have to suit up and take up the fight all over Metropolis, from the darkest levels of the Undercity, to the bright deceptive board rooms at the top of skyscrapers in the city’s heart. Irons will have to reckon with his past to secure his future, and confront the evil Metropolis would rather pretend doesn’t exist.

Kenan Kong/New Super-Man - Look just give Yang a damn Kenan book and let him go wild. Right now is either the best or worst time to give Kenan a book given the situation with Hong Kong, but if anyone is equipped to deal with it, it’s Yang. I’ll just add that I would love to see Kenan on a Global Guardians team, but I’d also love to see Justice League of China as a spinoff book of the main Justice League. Kenan is as close as DC has come to their own Spider-Man/Invincible take on Superman, Jon sadly hasn’t really differentiated himself from his dad while Kenan is VERY different. I would love to see Kenan pushed more and would buy a new book in a heartbeat. Also put out a damn New Super-Man omnibus Jim Lee, for God’s sake can’t you abuse your power to push the character you wanted created and is actually good unlike most of Wildstorm? You’re shoving Grifter back into everything but not Kenan? Christ.

So yeah that’s the Superfamily status quo I’d establish. Keeping my Clark and Lois ideas close to my chest for now, but I might go into more detail later.

[know-the-way]

I know it’s really stupid of me but I was kind of hoping for a redemption arc for Faustus. 😅😢

It’s not stupid, not at all! It’s natural to want to see the best in people, particularly when you believe they can be better than what they are now, so it’s completely understandable.

And, ya know, if the show gets picked up - he may have one yet still, we don’t know!

To me, this season really highlighted what the purpose of Faustus’ character is supposed to be, imo. Thinking of episode 4, we’re shown three different levels of corruption through three different characters.

The first is Harvey. Pure, sweet, golden boy Harvey is revealed to have some deep-seeded hatred of witches. Does he have any reason to hate witches? Well, let’s check - he lost a brother, got manipulated, controlled, and lied to by his first love, and has been in an endless cycle of extreme danger for the past year of his life. I think it’s fair to say we all understand that prejudice is not okay, but is it equally understandable why Harvey has some hang-ups about magic and witches? I personally think it is. (Not to the point of joining a literal witch hunt or angrily accusing your distressed best friend of killing your dad at her 17th birthday party 🙃, but understandable nonetheless.)

I personally think the intention with Harvey’s character being a cadet in Blackwood’s army was to demonstrate how, even when we believe someone to be morally good and just, they can become someone else when they endure pain and that pain is never properly addressed.

Did Sabrina apologize to Harvey for everything that happened between them? Yes. But did she repeat the same troublesome behaviors in different ways after that? Also yes. She didn’t demonstrate change in her actions, and a loootttt more happened with Harvey and the witch world in a negative way beyond his relationship with Sabrina, so the mistrust he feels isn’t entirely unjustified.

Then - “oh wow, oh my God, my second love has also hid being a witch from me, can I catch a fucking break here? Why should I ever trust another witch in my life?”

Answer: because they are humans, none being wholly good or bad, and they love you.

Roz talks to Harvey, tells him she believes he’s good, and demonstrably proves her own “goodness” by sacrificing herself to save others at Dr. C’s. Roz shows Harvey that she means what she says and her feelings for him are real - that she is a scared, broken human like him, just trying to do her best with what life has given her. Hence, when the moment of truth comes - Harvey remembers his humanity and proves his own “goodness” by saving her. But if Roz had never spoken to him, never acknowledged what he’d been through and that his feelings were valid... if no one had ever truly cared about his pain? It seems apparent that Harvey would have continued down a very dark path.

Which brings us to...

Mary. Mary has been literally murdered, had her identity hijacked by a demoness, her fiancé is dead, she doesn’t remember several months of her life, and her previous favorite student is a witch who has seemingly performed magic more than once on her.

Mary has every right to fear witches at this point. She has had zero trustworthy interactions with the witch world and from her perspective - her entire life has been stolen and no one cares. No one checks in on Mary, no one validates her pain, and as a result - no one in the witch world seems to have any compassion, humanity, or kindness in them. Enter the Pilgrims of the Night, who recognize her pain and fear without even knowing her, acknowledge it, and offer her solace in their congregation on the basis that her experience with witches is shared by the Reverend Lovecraft and his flock.

They prove themselves to her when the advice the Reverend/Faustus gives her (“let the dark in”) saves her life. My God, someone finally seems to care if she lives or dies!

People who care about others are good, so the church and the reverend’s mission must be good, too. Therefore, she is absolutely invested in whatever is asked of her and will blindly follow their lead in order to protect others from experiencing what she has. To me, Mary in the perverted universe represented the crossroads of corruption - where you truly believe what you’re doing is the right thing, even if it hurts others because those “others” have hurt you... and they will surely hurt again if you don’t stop them.

However, I think if Mary was finally told the truth - the full truth - and Lilith herself apologized for being the first piece in the puzzle... along with all the other witches... AND they showed that they actually cared about her well-being... Mary could find her way back through forgiveness. Or, at the very least, she could understand and process everything so that she could find a way to heal that doesn’t involve persecuting others.

And now, there’s Faustus. We aren’t entirely clear on Faustus’ history altogether, but we do know he’s had many experiences of being slighted by the churches of darkness (despite following the rules to a T).

He was rebuked by Edward for wanting to marry Zelda after mentoring him for who knows how many years, lost the office of high priest to him, and when he finally gets the title - here comes Edward’s self-righteous brat to fuck him over again. There he is trying to carry out the Dark Lord’s request to get Sabrina to sign her name in the Book of the Beast, even though she insults their doctrines and faith at every turn, and the coven and academy he’s had working like a well-oiled machine for the past 16 years is being slowly ripped apart. Why is the Dark Lord allowing this? Why is he having to endure a meddlesome child’s antics? Why is he not being rewarded for doing exactly as he’s been asked and returning the Church of Night to stability after Edward nearly destroyed it altogether? Like hello Dark Lord, can you throw me a fucking bone here?

Small victories - he finally secures Zelda’s hand in marriage and an audience with the anti-pope. This is what his life should’ve looked like two centuries ago, but no matter. He’s correcting it all now and by Satan, nothing is going to stop him this time.

But then...

Oh cool, Sabrina is here to intervene again and has presented the text of his old rival for consideration along with his (clearly superior) manifesto. What’s that, you say? Oh, she’s also gonna crash my wedding, accuse me of murder, and spread claims about my manifesto without having even read it? Wow, ahaha, sounds hilarious... except why am I not laughing?

He arrives in Rome and gets an inkling that the Dark Lord may finally be taking action about this heretical little monster because he’s offered the title of anti-pope by the unholy high council themselves. Finally, some appreciation! He just needs to hang on a little longer, eliminate these small meddlesome threats, and soon he will reside over a peaceful kingdom far removed from anymore mortal nonsense.

Oh, for fuck’s sake, what do you mean Sabrina convinces the council he’s unfit to be anti-pope? This is bullshit, man! You know what? Fuck this place, I’m gonna make my own damn church and ensure no other headstrong witches like Sabrina Buzzkill Spellman can ruin it. That’ll finally return things to ord- MY WIFE KEPT MY OWN CHILD A SECRET FROM ME?! WHAT THE FUCK?! Alright, that’s it, The Spellmans are clearly here to poison others (ironic foreshadowing) - time to wash my hands of them completely, I am so over thi- what’s that? The Dark Lord’s here? GOOD. About time this asshole showed up to set people straight and remind them that the values of his unholy church, which Faustus has exemplified perfectly, must be respected.

You mean for me to bow down to whom now? The halfbreed brat who has been directly and willfully wreaking havoc on the congregation he’s patiently and painstakingly lead back to greatness? Are you fucking serious, m8? No. Absolutely not. No. I’m getting out of here, and since I won’t have the little twat poison anyone else, I will literally poison them instead. Be free, sheep!

It’s up until this point that I believe Faustus was still mostly at the crossroads stage, same as Mary. He believed everything he was doing was the right thing, based on the teachings from the religion he devoted his entire life to, and that he’d be rewarded for serving the Dark Lord so faithfully - until the Dark Lord proved several times in succession that his religion was all a lie. That three+ centuries worth of groveling and abiding and waiting has meant absolutely nothing.

So now we have the Eldritch terrors. Beings more powerful than the oldest gods. He spends 15 years isolated in a time bubble purifying himself, devoting everything to them, and won’t it be so glorious when they welcome him into his ranks? He’s set them free now, after all, they owe it to him.

But doing the same action over and over and expecting a different result is what? The definition of insanity, friends. Of course the Eldritch terrors reject him, too... of course Sabrina gains their attention and veneration instead... of course he should have tried to seize their power for himself a long time ago... so, fuck it all, he’ll do that now. There is no right and wrong, there is no observed justice - if there was, he would have been rightfully recognized for all the time, effort, and pain he’s endured only to receive nothing in return.* No one ever acknowledged his pain... no one ever even considered it. Over time, that takes its toll.

(*Clearly, I mean this to be from Faustus’ perspective and not my own.)

Of course, he has inflicted more than his fair share of pain himself and I am of the personal belief he needed to pay for that, but... equally imagine being hurt over and over and watching those who did it walk away, not only without reprimand, but with the belief that they were right and just to do it? Could it slowly drain on one’s soul to watch the rules apply to some and not others? Debatable, I suppose, but I personally think yes.

So... I say all of this only to point out that there is still potential to acknowledge his pain. And thus, there is imo still potential to understand, communicate properly (I am very interested in any conversations he and Sabrina may have had during their training - I know he said she took a vow of silence, but clearly some talking occurred for Sabrina to learn so much about the void from him), grow, and finally - for him to be given the chance to repair everything he had a hand in breaking. It wouldn’t be an easy or painless task to get to that point, and no one would be faulted for not trusting him to do so, but I think there is potential for it. If they get picked up and they want to finally allow the characters some time to reflect and process shit, they could include Faustus in that.

[faimrpg]

Aude descends on Val Faim with far more energy and zeal than its preceding spring siblings. Without regard for any kind of schedule or urgency in its citizens’ lives, the city is barraged by storms so powerful that water floods the streets and shakes the buildings with the force of the winds. Mages are brought out to attempt to control the weather, but Empress Calandre Valence watches the chaos with a look that can only be described as discerning. She has emerged from her difficult mood into a woman more passive, ever regal, and unshaken. Whatever terrifying display of emotion was on display at the end of the previous month, she has rallied herself in the same way she rallies her advisors.

Trigger Warning: Assassination attempt, violence, death

THE FOURTEENTH OF AUDE, 936

The storm has lasted two weeks. Crosshatched searches for Amelie have found nothing in spite of MICHEL’s efforts, and there is a sense of doom and gloom to the air. “Enough of this! I want some joy, some passion. The Opera. We’ll host an event at the Opera House, with a grand party to follow afterwards.”

In moments like these, it is easier to recall that Calandre was only a child when she took the throne. She seems as young today as she was when she ended her father’s life and felt his blood on her hands. The Empress’ word is law, and her advisors are sent off like dogs on the hunt. Invitations are sent out in record time, and within a week, the news has spread across Val Faim like wildfire, as if to purposefully spite the continuous barrage of rain. The news comes especially as a surprise to LUCRECE, the newest owner of L’Opera Imperial, who is suddenly hard-pressed to throw together a show for the Empress that is worthy of Odeline Herself. They call for MÉLODIE immediately and get to work on throwing something together.

CYRIL finds themselves with an even heavier workload than usual. On top of taking care of the Empress’ pressing fashion needs, what feels like half of the city flocks to the tailor in an effort to attain a piece of theirs, be it gloves, mask, dress, trousers -- whatever CYRIL will give them, they’ll take. By the time the date arrives, their shop has been cleared out of almost all their fabrics and supplies. They are effectively going to have to start from square one after this event is done. This doesn’t stop ISEULT from calling, however, dragging SAVATIER in tow in an effort to make them look somewhat presentable instead of like a hermit.

Another finds themselves with their hands full: EMERIC answers LUCRECE’s desperate call for catering with the kindness of an old friend, and now not only are they going to be in attendance, but La Perche’s cuisine is up on the chopping block as well. For years, the restaurant has wavered between struggling and shining, but this opportunity could make attendance soar. The success of their menu might mean the success of their livelihood, and with such short notice, their palms are beginning to sweat.

THE TWENTY-FIRST OF AUDE, 936

Like a wildfire, anticipation and anxiety begin to spread across Val Faim as the date draws ever closer, until the evening arrives on their doorsteps. Nobles and guests of all import gather together in the front rooms of L’Opera Imperial. ROTH and MEDRAUT survey the crowds for any kind of threat, but the room broils with people stirring to and fro, desperate to get to their seats or get another drink before the fun begins. ADRASTE is given by their mentors to explore, and ends up caught in conversation with HECTOR, who has been dodging LUCRECE all night.

YVON and GISELE dance a strange and uncomfortable dance around each other when their eyes meet across the room, YVON bracketed by their socialite friends and more notably, BEAU. As soon as they’re there, however, BEAU is gone, sent to tail GISELE and see what they do throughout the course of the night.

CECILE and ROSALIND find themselves a little disgruntled upon realizing they’ve been made to share the same box for the evening, a directive from Calandre herself, perhaps in an effort to have them ease the quietly-brewing feud between them. As attendees settle into their seats, anticipation pricks the back of everyone’s necks. They don’t know what to expect. Maybe that’s for the better. An unexpected third guest in their box is CELESTE, having been instructed by LIANE to explore L’Opera Imperial for anything of note or interest.

RÉGIS sees the opportunity to whittle away at DEGARÉ further and attempts to strike up a conversation with them, only to be interrupted by HECTOR, who finds they have little care for the actual subject matter so long as they can appear involved enough that LUCRECE won’t interrupt, their conversation with ADRASTE having finished.

The curtain finally rises. A hush falls over the room. All eyes move to the stage as MÉLODIE emerges, waiting for their cue to break into song. The fanfare for the evening, SYLVIANE realizes, is about a fictional artist coming to the capital city to paint a mural that comes to life and threatens the life of the king. Those sitting around them, HELENE and VASKA, chuckle in amusement as they come to that same conclusion.

MÉLODIE is truly a sight to be admired on stage as they roll their way through the pieces with a magnificent ease that implies they were given plenty of time to practice — even if truthfully, they were not. Up in their own box and seated alongside Calandre’s guest of honor, DAGHAN, SIDONIE finds themselves forced to try and make conversation.

VIOLAINE has other plans for the evening. As MÉLODIE moves into the next aria, they go to approach CASSIAN and ROWAN just outside the entryway to the auditorium to discuss the letter they discovered belonging to Amelie. The Ambassadors and socialite don’t know each other well, but if ROWAN or CASSIAN have future motives against the Empire, maybe a little bit of a nudge in the right direction will see VIOLAINE and their betrothed in better circumstances come the future. The Ambassadors take the letter and tuck it away to look over later. PATRICE notices this odd conversation and listens in, but does not confront VIOLAINE until after the performance is done; they ask PATRICE not to share with GHISLAIN what they have heard, but PATRICE makes it clear they intend to do so anyways. What do they have to lose, in telling the truth? Why should anyone stop them?

On their patrol, ROTH and MEDRAUT see a figure slipping through the shadows around the Opera House. They attempt to pursue, but intermission arrives, and people soon flood into the streets and lobby for a breath of fresh air. They attempt to press through the crowd but are soon swept up and lose sight of their target. When the crowd dwindles a little, they decide to ask LIANE is they’ve seen or heard anything strange, as the Spymaster might be the best resource to ask. Guards are easy to avoid. Spies, on the other hand, are not.

During intermission, some stand to stretch their legs and mill about. Many go to visit AGRIPPINE and discuss the possibility of a new sponsorship, which GHISLAIN takes quiet note of. They try to speak with AGRIPPINE afterwards in an effort to confirm that they’ll stay with him. DEGARÉ overhears and can’t help but have their interest peak in recognition of the conversation, attempting to intervene.

EMERIC spends the majority of their time catering and trying to ensure things run smoothly. This, of course, would be a breeze if it weren’t for MATTHIEU accidentally running into a waiter and sending hors d'oeuvres everywhere. The two have a fiery confrontation before MATTHIEU goes to find CECILE and ZHENYA, leaving EMERIC to pick up the scraps.

The rest of the show plays out beautifully. SAINTE rifles a little alongside the rest of the crowd when the plot implies that the artist’s inevitable, greed-driven downfall was caused by his dedication for Odeline, which brought his art to life in a cruel manner, but ZHENYA, seated nearby, sees them bristle from afar and tries to speak to them after to calm their worries, even if their feelings on the matter aren’t the same. SAINTE eventually goes to leave and stumbles across SYLVIANE in the hall, trying to collect themselves in the wake of what feels like a show dedicated entirely to them, and not in the most pleasant way. Strangely, VASKA is not with their charge.

ISEULT quietly exits the auditorium, feeling something strange prick at the back of their neck. They wander the mostly-empty halls for some time, only to find themselves face-to-face with a woman shrouded in black with shadows at her feet. They hardly have time to recover before there is a knife buried in their jugular. SAVATIER, having followed ISEULT, instead finds their crumpled body in the hallway and realizes they need to hide them, quickly, before they return to life.

CELESTE, however, still wandering, stumbles upon SAVATIER attempting to take care of their bodyguard, unsure of what has occurred. SAVATIER convinces CELESTE to leave them be, but soon runs to LIANE to report back the bizarre event they’ve witnessed.

As the show comes to its conclusion and the encore begins, lasting several minutes, people begin to gather their things and take their leave. Flowers are tossed atop the stage in thanks for such a wonderful performance. The Empress is first to depart, of course, and this is when all hell breaks loose. From the shadows in Calandre’s box emerges Amelie, long-toothed dagger in hand. With smoke swirling around her feet, the remnant of her disguise, she plunges it into Calandre’s back. The Empress lets out a cry of pain before she crumples to the ground. Before anyone has the chance to stop her, Amelie is gone, fleeing as quickly as her legs will carry her.

VICTOIRE, having been stuck patrolling the halls for the sake of security and only getting to enjoy the show in fragments, is sent sprinting after Amelie as she runs out towards the vast doors that will provide her an exit. They pursue Amelie three blocks before they find her in the hands of BASTILE, looking bewildered as Amelie attempts to struggle and break free from the mercenary’s grasp. KARINE, having pursued Amelie on Alain’s command, is forced to involve themselves in the standoff until BASTILE hands her over to VICTOIRE. BASTILE and KARINE are left to balk at each other.

In transit to the Summer Palace, Amelie does her best to escape VICTOIRE, and seems to fail spectacularly all the way up until they are halfway through the Gardens. Only then does she seem to summon a knife from nowhere to plunge it into the junction between VICTOIRE’s neck and shoulder. It is then that MEDRAUT emerges from nowhere, having been directed to follow the Captain by ROTH. They finally knock Amelie out before rushing to get VICTOIRE help.

Back at L’Opera Imperial, people begin to panic upon hearing Calandre’s cry. MICHEL is left to try and direct the crowds, filter them out into the street rather than risk a mishap or fire. MÉLODIE is left horrified on stage, having seen their lover endure what must have been a fatal wound. They are left with a choice: do they try to make their way up to the box, or remain behind among the chaos? MICHEL tries to direct them out of the way, in the opposite direction of Calandre. In the end, it is ADRASTE who leaps to the stage, pulling the singer by the hand back to LUCRECE for their safety.

BEAU, having been told to tail GISELE, find themselves in a difficult position. GISELE seems reluctant to leave, looking for someone, although whether they search for their sibling or Gauthier is uncertain. The spy could stay, to see who they go for, but risk getting caught by the eldest Duval.

HELENE and DAGHAN rush to try and stem the blood-flow before the Empress succumbs to her injury, as dawning horror begins to crest over them that this wound might not be treatable.

SIDONIE goes to join them, unsure of how to help, but is brought to a halt where they stand, as screams of horror and alarm slowly dull as attendees are forced out of L’Opera Imperial. It is as though their entire body has been shot through with an arrow.

It is a feeling so strong they cannot ignore it: miles away, out in The Obsidienne somewhere, something unbidden tears open. Somehow, as if pulled by an unseen force, AGRIPPINE meets SIDONIE’s gaze across the room. There’s only one explanation for it. They felt it, too, but there is no putting to words what that might mean.

SIDONIE comes back to themselves after being jostled by LIANE, who tries to stir them back into awareness. The night moves quickly from there, as those who care for Calandre try to force their way through a torrent of rain to return to the Summer Palace. RÉGIS, eager to forget their awkward conversation from earlier, is close to follow, spurred on by their desire to see Calandre rid of and intent on causing some kind of delay. They run into ETIENNE and are stopped before they get the chance, sparking no small amount of suspicion on ETIENNE’s part. The Empress is taken to her quarters and sequestered away immediately, and in the days that follow, the only confirmation anyone will receive is that she survived. Her condition and state remain total mysteries.

Thus, the curtains close on L’Opera Imperial for now, and all are at odds with each other. Questions begin to raise: how was this allowed to happen? What should they do with Amelie, without their Empress’ directive? Whose head is on the chopping block for such a gratuitous fumble? What are the Ambassadors meant to do, with no figurehead to deal with or guide them? How should they proceed? No answers emerge in the weeks that follow, and in that murkiness, Alain Gauthier sees an opportunity he intends to take. With Calandre out of commission, even temporarily, perhaps now is a better time than ever to prove her incompetence, and that Val Faim — and Celestine as a whole — would thrive with someone else on the throne.

SUMMARY: And there we have it, our third scene! Amelie has attempted to take Calandre’s life, and while Amelie’s been placed in the custody of the Summer Palace, it is unclear as to whether or not Calandre will survive her injuries. You are free to write up to the 23rd of Aude, but for now, don’t go past that date.

At this moment, no one is allowed to visit the Empress in her critical condition. Those unsure of their loyalty to Alain may have to make some crucial decisions in the near future. The new skeletons in this event will be arriving this weekend. If you have any questions pertaining to the event, please drop them in the Discord channel! If you need any help plotting, or getting things started, please reach out and I’ll see what I can do to help. Thank you again, to all of you!

TIMESTAMP: The 31st of Maccius — The 23rd of Aude

SPECIFIC DATES:

The 14th of Aude: Calandre decides she wants to attend the Opera

The 21st of Aude: The Opera Occurs

[shemakesmusic-uk]

Alt-pop newcomer LVRA (pronounced loo-rah, real name Rachel Lu) has shared her first new track of 2021, ‘DEAD’. Following up on 2020’s debut EP LVCID, she explains: “There’s a unique power you gain when you stop caring about what people think of you. It’s an ongoing battle, though, and ‘DEAD’ is about the conflict between the fantasy of not caring and how you feel in reality. The video captures that, with a version of myself who has her shit together and another that is fighting to survive.The use of red represents fear in the human condition, but in Chinese culture it also symbolises happiness. One rarely comes without the other.” The track – a cultural mix that matches LVRA’s heritage with bleeding edge ultra HD pop – is the first taster of a second EP, which is set to follow later this summer. You can check out an Oscar McNab (Lacuna Common, Oscar Lang). directed video above. [via Dork]

Los Angeles artist Wallice follows debut single 'Punching Bag' with new coming of age anthem, '23'. Wallice finds herself caught between two places on fresh cut, '23'. “Too old to be a runaway”, but also too young to consider herself as grown up, the 22-year old yearns for a past that still has not happened yet. Working with producer David Marinelli since her return to California, Wallice has crafted a sound that is unique without taking itself too seriously. An angst-driven remonstration at the powerlessness of her age, '23' is also the clearest stamp of her musical identity to date. The expression of this purgatory is a cathartic garage-rock headbanger complemented beautifully by Wallice’s playful lyrics. “I just can't wait to be / all grown up and 23,” she admits in the song’s irresistible chorus. “Tell me what is wrong with me / I miss my Ohio fake ID”. In artfully portraying the limbo state of the age, Wallice describes the events in her life that have led to her own disaffection. “It’s hard not to compare your own professional success to that of your similarly aged peers. I dropped out of university in New York after studying Jazz Voice for a year, and my dad was VERY disappointed, to say the least, so it was hard not to feel like a loser in that sense. “The specific age 23 doesn’t have any milestones associated with it, but it’s more the idea of just looking forward to the future,” Wallice continues on the meaning of the track. "Much like how people ‘reset’ every new year, it’s comparable to be ‘older and wiser’ with each birthday, but instead of constantly looking to the future, it is important to be happy with where you are”. [via Line Of Best Fit]

Coach Party have shared their new single 'Everybody Hates Me'. The Isle of Wight group are gearing up to release their incoming EP, with After Party pitting their potent indie pop influences against bittersweet lyricism. Out shortly, the EP is teased by new thumper 'Everybody Hates Me', with Coach Party adding a neat gloss to their guitar pop sound. Out now, 'Everybody Hates Me' comes equipped with a neat video steered by Daniel Broadley. Vocalist Jess Eastwood comments: “‘Everybody Hates Me’ isn’t a metaphor for anything; it’s literally about those times when you convince yourself that everyone, including your best friends don’t actually like you, and your self-confidence is so low that you don’t even blame them. Disguise that sentiment in an up-beat singalong, and there you have the third single from our new record. The video is a direct extension of the song. It swings between the insecurities of feeling like you’re not good enough amongst your friends, and the sense of unity you get from those same people when you finally wake up from your rut. Everyone feels that way from time to time, but you gotta remember that sometimes your irrational self is going to take over. And when it does, try to remember that you’re awesome, and your friends really are your friends.” [via Clash]

Pussy Riot have gone hyperpop on their latest song 'Toxic'. The Dorian Electra collaboration features glitched out production by Dylan Brady of 100 gecs and tackles a relationship gone bad. Written, directed, and edited by Pussy Riot’s Nadya Tolokonnikova, the music video features jarring, bloody imagery matching Brady’s production. “Care about yourself, cherish your mental health, and stay away from relationships that poison you!” Tolokonnikova writes in the YouTube description. “Amen.” In the song’s lyrics, Tolokonnikova tells off an ex. “You are my daily poison so annoying,” she sings. “You’re even more toxic than my employer.” The hook continues the theme. “This combo is deadly — ’cause we used to be friendly,” Electra laments. “And now my heart is a weapon / You made me… toxic.” [via Consequence of Sound]

Baby Queen has dropped a brand new track, ‘These Drugs’. Bella Latham’s second new track of the year – following up on the anthemic ‘Raw Thoughts’ – she explains in an Instagram post: “This is a story I really needed to tell you and I didn’t know how to for a long time. When I first wrote this song, I honestly didn’t think I was going to be allowed to release it or that releasing it would be a particularly good idea. It just felt really important and that’s all I’ve ever wanted music to be; so I knew I had to share it with you.I was in a very bad place at the time… very depressed and convinced I wasn’t a good person and didn’t deserve good things. Life is different now. I’m happy. I’ve learnt that the antidote to my misery is gratitude and caring about myself even when I don’t want to, until it becomes a habit. It’s natural to look for escapism but there’s more freedom in working to build a life you like… and by that I literally just mean learning to love yourself. You, with all your scars and all your regrets, are home to an actual life! You’ve been through so much and you’ve come out the other side stronger because of it – it’s remarkable really. You’ve got to invite the sad parts of yourself in to have a tea party with you. Don’t ignore them and cover them up. If you don’t look at them, they’ll make themselves seen! You are so worthy of love and I hope that if you don’t see that yet, you will learn to in time. Anyways guys,” she finishes, “this is all very intense. I love you very much and I hope you can understand and relate in some way.” [via Dork]

Greentea Peng has shared her new single 'Nah It Ain’t The Same'. The UK neo-soul voice is an outstanding talent, someone who pushes herself further into that hip-hop / jazz nexus with each release. Produced by Earbuds, new single 'Nah It Ain't The Same' is out now, one that reflects the chemistry she has with her live band The Seng Seng Family. Dipping into drum 'n' bass, her vocals have a calming, beatific feel, with 'Nah It Ain't The Same' tugging at matters personal. She comments: “Deliberations of a (hu) MAN, subject to the pendulum's swing, I give you ‘Nah It Aint The Same’ off my album MAN MADE. An expression and exploration of my utter confusion and inner conflicts amidst shifting paradigms.” Greentea Peng stars in the new video, with Machine Operated sculpting the video. [via Clash]

renforshort has debuted a brand new single, ‘virtual reality’. The first taster of a forthcoming second EP, the track sees her “connect” with Kellen Pomeranz (Pom Pom), Jesse Fink and Beabadoobee collaborator Pete Robertson. “’virtual reality’ is a song that tackles many topics. But at its core, it really is about anxiety, routine, boredom, isolation, loneliness, and fear,” she explains. “I think a lot of people have a very unhealthy relationship with technology because it’s never really been restricted enough to consider mental health and overall health, and that has fucked so many people up, now more than ever. Ever since I was young, social media has played a major role in my mental wellbeing, and I became so accustomed to it, it became a part of my routine and it came before everything else. The moment I wake up, almost instinctively, I check my phone. Depending on what I see in the morning, basically determines how I’m gonna feel for the rest of the day. I hate it. But I can’t stop. And what’s most ironic about this all is you’re likely going to read this on social media or listen to the song on some sort of electronic device…” [via Dork]

Flock of Dimes has shared the second single from her forthcoming album Head of Roses, out April 2 via Sub Pop. Following recent single, 'Two', 'Price of Blue' is another standout from Wasner’s second solo LP, an album that showcases her ability to embrace new levels of vulnerability, honesty and openness, combined with the self-assuredness that comes with a decade-plus career as a songwriter, producer, multi-instrumentalist and prolific collaborator. It comes accompanied by an unearthly new video filmed in black and white, co-directed by Wasner with Graham Tolbert. Wasner says: “This song is about trying, and failing, to connect. It’s about the ways in which, despite our best efforts, we misunderstand each other, and become so attached to stories that we’re unable to see the truth that’s right in front of us. And it’s about the invisible mark that another person can leave on your body, heart and mind long after their absence. It can be difficult to make sense of the memory of your experience when the reality on the surface is always shifting—when the story you’re telling, or the story you’ve been told, unravels, leaving you with a handful of pieces and no idea how they used to fit together.”

Berlin-based indie-soul five-piece, People Club, announce their new EP Take Me Home, which is due May 7 and the band are sharing the title-track and new video. The title track 'Take Me Home' is a song about the realisation of mortality in old age and the cynicism that often plights the elderly after losing their loved ones and being left alone with their regrets. It is accompanied by a music video shot by long standing collaborator, Felix Spitta. Speaking of the process the band say, “Once again we worked with our very talented friend, Felix Spitta, who also shot the video for our last single Francine.  We basically spent a day fooling around at his house with a smoke machine and an old tape TV camera with a red filter.  The result is hazy and disorientating, just like this year has been so far.”

Introducing MARY., the dreamy alter-ego of musician and songwriter Stef T. The self-produced debut track, ‘Day to Day’, interlaces elements of electro-pop and R&B with a voice that enchants, along with an official video filmed, edited and directed by David Risdon and Charlie Rose Creative. Reading like a page in a diary, ‘Day to Day’ offers a candid and emotionally raw glance at being overlooked as a woman in a man’s world. She is put together, glamorous and poised on the outside, but on the inside she is simmering like a pot ready to boil over, fed-up and on the brink of snapping. Speaking of the track, Stef T explains, “’Day to Day’ is a reflection on what it is to be a woman in a role where you are always unseen; constantly giving yet never receiving. As woman, we are often undervalued for our day to day work in all aspects - as mothers, in relationships, in our careers; having to push extra hard to get the basic recognition and thanks that we are entitled to. This song is a commentary of a large part of my life where I settled, sacrificed and worked, only to be used and taken for granted. It is about learning to survive a toxic relationship, discover your own individual worth again and reclaim the power that you gave away to someone else. Producing this song myself is the only thing that made sense in context with the intention of MARY. as a project. She is an entirely self made, independent woman, who does it all and doesn't need a man to confirm that she's doing a good job. This is something I have personally struggled with, so I created the MARY. persona to feel more empowered in my storytelling as an artist, in an industry without a large visible number of female-identifying producers.”

Los Angeles based dream pop trio Tashaki Miyaki have just released a single and video of the title song from their forthcoming second album, Castaway, which will be released on April 23 via Metropolis Records. Singer, drummer and producer Paige Stark states that the song “is about the challenges of romantic love and how we are all bad at it in one way or another. The idea of a castaway in all this is that no one understands the relationship except the people in it, so you really are stuck on an island alone together there. Maybe you make it back to the mainland, or maybe you stay on the island.” Stark also shot the Sofia Coppola-inspired video on film, adding: "I wanted to tap into all the feelings that can come up in love relationships: anger, sadness, loneliness, vulnerability, stillness, joy, romance, longing. The actress in it has a beautifully expressive face and I've known her for a long time. I knew we would be able to create those moments together. I wanted it to feel like the camera was her lover, capturing her in various private moments, moods and feelings.”

With her Vanilla Shell EP celebrating its one-year anniversary last month, Danish-Chilean composer Molina is back with another abbreviated record in the form of the new single 'Cold,' featuring vocalist Jonas Bjerre, arriving with a pair of B-sides. The brief collection of songs continues her simultaneous journey inward toward the roots of Chilean music and outward into her own unique vision of the future. The project lands with a video for the A-side, which dreams up bizarre fantasy iconography in the tradition of Grimes and Björk to complement her subdued take on these artists’ out-there recordings. Blending ambiguous electronic sounds with the familiar drone of cello and Bjerre’s backing vocals, the track’s distinct persona may have more in common with the experimental soundscapes of artists like Jenny Hval or Julia Holter. [via Flood]

Maisie Peters has debuted her brand new single, ‘John Hughes Movie’. Described as the first single from her soon to be announced debut album, it’s a song about unrequited love, inspired by the legendary film producer and his classic coming-of-age teen comedies like The Breakfast Club and Sixteen Candles. The track comes alongside a video co-written by Maisie and director Louis Bhose (Loyle Carner, Arlo Parks, Lewis Capaldi). Maisie explains: “I wrote ‘John Hughes Movie’ when I was 17 about a house party that I had gone to. It’s a really honest depiction of being a hopeless, melodramatic teenager, being awkward and drunk and getting your heart broken by people you don’t even remember anymore. John Hughes films encapsulate that foolish romantic energy of high school and everything that I, a small town English wannabe Molly Ringwald wanted to be, but was not.” [via Dork]

Chloe x Halle have shared the music video for their song 'Ungodly Hour.' The video was debuted on Wedneday night's episode of The Tonight Show Starring Jimmy Fallon and shows the Bailey sisters going underwater for a sci-fi-style visual filled with choreography and elaborate adventures at the bottom of the ocean. Watch the Alfred Marroquín-directed video above. [via The FADER]

South London's Josie Man has returned with sentimental new single 'Cuts & Bruise', marking her first release of 2021. 'Cuts & Bruises' follows October 2020's 'Grow' single, and is accompanied by a Andrea Mae-directed video that shows couples enjoying tender moments, including Josie Man and her boyfriend. [via Line Of Best Fit]

Jessie Ware has shared a new short film for her song 'Remember Where You Are'. Her album What's Your Pleasure? arrived last year, a disco-fuelled missile that presented some much-needed good vibes amid lockdown. The songwriter returns to the record for her song 'Remember Where You Are', a soulful and uplifting slice of UK songwriting. There's now a full video for the song and it's steered by BAFTA winning director Dominic Savage. Starring British actress Gemma Arterton, it opens on Valentine's Day and finds the star wandering through deserted London streets. A glimpse of hope and renewal, it taps into the growing feeling that this time, lockdown might be coming to a permanent end. "It was a real pleasure to collaborate with Jessie and Gemma on this short film that is inspired by Jessie Ware’s beautiful music. It was also inspired by the real feeling that was felt when we filmed in the deserted streets of eerily strange lockdown London on a Saturday night/Sunday morning,” Dominic said. “The feelings and emotions in the film are a true reflection of what that felt like, and what this time invokes. Sadness, nostalgia, pain and defiance. But when we climbed Primrose Hill and the sun started to rise above the city, there was real hope and joy for a future that will surely be ours. Listening to Jessie’s music. There is no doubt of that." Jessie adds... "This song has always meant a lot to me and I was determined for other people to hear it and for it to be single. I am so touched by how many people have embraced this song, particularly when it's one of your favourite actresses and an acclaimed film director. Working with Gemma, Dominic and their team has been an absolute joy. To have them realise my song with a beautiful ode to London and the longing for human touch and interaction couldn't be more of a compliment. It's a truly cherished piece of work." [via Clash]

Jaguar Jonze has shared her new single and video 'CURLED IN' ahead of the release of her second EP ANTIHERO on April 16, both via Nettwerk Records. 'CURLED IN' presents all her best qualities at its outset. From the track’s rip-roaring, slicing guitar to her perfectly forceful, omnipresent vocals, 'CURLED IN' is a pure cathartic release. "Tear me apart, just tear me apart," she all but demands: "I've never seen wrong be done right." She's fulfilling her simplest needs, and it's freeing. "It's a bit of a twist for me to be a masochist." As a survivor of abuse, these words' unafraid power is all too apparent and an engaging statement to hear expressed.

Following the release of eclectic and impressive debut singles 'ASOS,' 'Right Time,' and 'Papercut,' rising left-of-center pop singer and songwriter Dava returns with a fresh and bold new single 'New Ceilings' available now via Sony Music's Disruptor Records. The moody anti-pop record was co-written by Dava and Mike Adubato (Del Water Gap, Grace VanderWaal) who also produced the track, and is the latest off the Los Angeles-based musician's forthcoming debut EP, Sticky, due out later this year. On the inspiration behind her new single, Dava shares, "This song was written about survival and staying true to yourself. I was having a hard time financially after moving to LA and my phone was shut off while on my way to this session. I was upset with myself for prioritizing music when I really needed the money from driving Uber to stay afloat." She continues, "The day I wrote 'New Ceilings' I was angry and I wanted a song that felt empowering and validated all the work I had put in up to that point. I ended up choosing different songs for my project but when I revisited this one year later, I felt it needed to be heard because of how authentically it embodies my struggle."

London-based Fifi Rong, a multi-talented avant-pop songstress, has shared the video for her stunning single, ‘Another Me’. Directed by Rok Pat, the video for ‘Another Me’ is stylistically simplistic, as Fifi Rong uses her own body as a medium of art, painting herself and inviting the simple imagery of waterside reeds and plants. A tranquil mysticism embraces the single as Fifi Rong acts as a gentle siren, luring the unsuspecting in yet known the inevitable outcome of the relationship. Speaking of the concept behind the single and video, Fifi Rong tells us: “In any doomed romance, timing is always mysteriously wrong. This is my first full CGI music video and it visually portrays the elusive nature of the character surrounding the key message: 'you won't find another me'. The undertone of the song displays a sense of pride and confidence in the character’s melancholy. Dressed in nothing but petals, I wanted my character to symbolise purity, nature, truthfulness, vulnerability and the divine feminine form. Acting as a rotating statue, I wanted to mark the passing of time and seasons as if a unique and lonely piece of art on display.”

[ohblackdiamond]

little t&a (paul/gene, nc-17) (part 7 of 29)

part 1   part 2   part 3   part 4   part 5   part 6   part 7   part 8   part 9   part 10   part 11   part 12   part 13   part 14   part 15   part 16   part 17   part 18   part 19   part 20   part 21  part 22   part 23   part 24    part 25   part 26   part 27   part 28   part 29 

Four weeks before KISS gets back on tour, Gene discovers that Paul’s been cursed by a groupie. For the sake of KISS’ finances, Paul’s comfort levels, and Gene’s libido, this crisis must be resolved. Sexswap fic. In this chapter: Gene and Paul make some inquiries and find an apartment.

           They didn’t waste time. Well, they didn’t waste much time. As expected, Gene was starting to get flocked again, even though they were trying to head straight to the bar. Gene didn’t really like to push past people, if he could help it—Big John was usually there to do it for him—and Paul, to his credit, wasn’t stomping on his foot now that they were in the club. He just kept shooting Gene pissed-off looks as the fans stammered at him and gave him napkins to sign.

           It was hard to hear any real talk outside of the blare of the band. Gene was just scribbling on napkins, barely offering a nod to whatever the person in front of him was telling him. It wasn’t until they made it to one dingy corner that he could actually understand the conversation around him.

           “Who’s he got with him?”

           “She’s kinda pretty. I don’t recognize her.”

           “Maybe she’s another singer? You think he’s trying to promote her?”

           “Promote her? That’s so cute…”

           He’d gotten used to people talking about him while he was in earshot, but not quite like this. He’d had starlets hanging off his arm before, dated some of them, even. The gossip was just to sell magazines; it hadn’t ever bothered him. But it was strange, being the only one who knew full well who was actually standing next to him. It was really strange.

           He turned to tell Paul that, but Paul spoke before he could.

           “God, I had no idea.”

           “No idea about what?”

           “About how much it has to suck dating any of us.” Paul let go of Gene’s waist, finally, going for his hand instead. His fingers curved around Gene’s with an odd abruptness, as if Paul was afraid Gene would pull his hand away if he lingered too long.  “Never mind marrying. Lydia deserves a fucking medal. Jeanette, too.”

           “You don’t get very public with dating.”

           “Yeah, but… anything out and about. Banquets. Gala shit where you’ve gotta bring somebody. We end up shaking hands and taking photos and talking about business, and they’re… what’re the girls doing? Nothing. They have to just sit through it.”

           Gene was distracted out of an immediate answer. Distracted by something even less comfortable than Paul’s legs in the fishnets or the tightness of his cotton tee. Distracted by the hand in his. Paul’s hand wasn’t really that soft or terribly small, but it fit well enough in his. How long had it been since he’d genuinely held hands with a girl? High school, or maybe sophomore year of college. By the time Wicked Lester rolled around, he’d long since stopped being that sentimental. And by the time KISS started, it was all carnal. It hadn’t felt empty, either; he hadn’t felt like he was really missing anything by jumping straight to the best part—

He could have sworn Paul gave his palm a brief squeeze, lifting him back into reality. Paul definitely was throwing him a raised eyebrow, corner of his mouth lifting up quizzically.

“Gene?”

“Oh. Are you having that bad a time?”

           “Not when I think about how they’ve missed out on half the autographs.” Paul laughed dryly. “Come on. You’ve put me through enough tonight. You owe me.”

           “What do I owe you?”

           Paul started to smile.

           “A drink.”

           “Paul, that’s a terrible idea.”

           “I’ve got to look like I’m at the bar for a reason, right?” Paul shrugged. “C’mon. I only want one.”

           They settled in front of the bar, Paul gingerly leaning up with his elbows against the counter, looking for the bartender. Gene wished he’d thought to take notes during the visit to the psychic. What had she said again? Brown hair, freckles—no, that was the girl—what did the girl’s brother look like? He frowned, trying to remember. Paul nudged him.

           “Would you hang back some? I wanna do this myself. I think it’ll turn out better if he doesn’t think I’m with you.”

           “This whole club knows you’re with me.”

Half of him hoped Paul would at least look embarrassed at the intimation, but he didn’t. He just shrugged.

“Exclusively. Oh, there we go. That’s got to be him, there’s the combover.” Paul pointed at one of the guys behind the counter just briefly enough for Gene to see, before clearing his throat. “Hi, there! Could I get a Tom Collins?”

           He hadn’t stopped to consider there might be more than one balding guy working there. The bartender blinked at him, but nodded, and started to mix the drink. Gene sighed and pulled out his wallet.

           “Just one.”

           “Please. There’s barely any alcohol in these.”

           “I’m serious.”

           “I’m serious, too. Let me do something for myself here, would you? Trust me.”

           Gene nearly argued him down. Paul getting drunk would be an absolute disaster. But looking at him, that frustrated tilt to the corners of his mouth, the consternation, he realized that wasn’t what Paul meant. For all that Paul had driven them everywhere, it had basically been on Gene’s insistence. He’d taken over the last couple of days. Not maliciously, but maybe that didn’t matter.

           “Here you go, sweetheart,” the bartender said, pushing the drink towards Paul. Gene shoved a bill at him in return.

           “Thanks.” Paul didn’t even taste it immediately. “Hey, doesn’t your sister come here?”

           The bartender cocked his head.

           “Who’s asking?”

           “Paul Stanley’s asking.”

           The bartender started to laugh. Something about the way his eyes crinkled up in amusement made Gene think of aluminum foil. Just the thinness of the skin, he supposed.

           “No kidding? Carol really got him this time?”

           “A couple times. Is she here tonight?” Paul took a sip of the cocktail, then slid a finger around the rim of the glass, almost absently. Gene thought he was laying it on too thick. Probably extra revenge for the scene outside the club, and the mobbing afterwards. Whatever. Maybe the saddest thing about it was that it wasn’t even a new gesture out of him. Any second now and he’d be putting that finger in his mouth. “He wants to talk to her.”

           “Wants to talk to her, my ass.” He snorted. “How do you know her?”

           Paul gestured vaguely at Gene. Gene ignored them both.

           “Gotcha.” Whatever the bartender thought about rockstars and groupies and girlfriends, Gene didn’t care, and he didn’t divulge. “She stopped coming a few weeks ago. She’s been trying a bunch of clubs out.”

           “Yeah? Like where?”

           “She went to Hurrah for awhile, and the Ice Palace. I can’t keep up.”

           Paul took another swallow of his cocktail. Licked his lips. Gene was trying not to make the attention he was paying too obvious—no matter how weirdly irritating the whole deal was, he didn’t want to screw this up, make the guy antsy—but he wasn’t sure how long Paul could go without sounding desperate, either.

           “Do you have her number?”

           The bartender snorted.

           “She doesn’t stay in one place long enough for that.”

           “Then where could I—”

           “Ask Mary-Anne over there. The redhead in the jumpsuit. They run around together.”

           “Thanks.”

           “Sure thing, sweetheart.” He winked. “You got a name?”

           “Uh—”

           “Julia, c’mon,” Gene rattled out, taking his hand again and tugging him away from the bar. Paul’s offended expression could have cut diamonds.

--

           “You can’t call me by my sister’s name.”

           “Well, I can’t call you Paul.”

          “You can still call me Paulie, idiot.”

          “Not when you say that’s who’s looking for her.”

           “Then just don’t call me anything.” Paul shook his head and sipped at his cocktail again. “Julia, Jesus Christ…”

           “Julia’s cute.”

          “Julia is out of her mind.”

          “It got you to react, that’s what’s important.” He never had nicknamed Paul anyway. It would’ve felt weird on his tongue. Four letters, one syllable, was still all that suited him. “You think we got the right bartender?”

           “Almost positive.” Paul exhaled. “I was looking at him pretty hard.”

          “I noticed.” Gene snorted.

          “Not like—I still can’t remember the girl too great, but there’s sorta a family resemblance. Same complexions, I think. He had freckles, too, did you notice?”

          “Not really. You told me to hang back.”

          “Sorry.” Paul’s slowly-mounting excitement wasn’t as infectious as Gene had expected it to be. His smile was wider than it had been since he’d met him on the porch. Gene could almost see the little gears just under Paul’s bangs trying to pursue a conclusion. “Trying Hurrah wouldn’t be too bad as long as you kept my sunglasses on. Nobody I know is there. But I’m asking her friend first. Gene, if we can get a number, or if we can get the chick to take us to Carol… we’ve got it. We’ve got it.”

          Gene wasn’t convinced. But Paul looked so damn hopeful that it was hard to want to ruin it for him. Finding particular girls was easier, paradoxically, at a concert, with plenty of roadies and bodyguards more than eager to help, just to snag a bit on the side. Doing all the legwork themselves, at clubs…

          “C’mon, Gene. Let’s talk to her.”

          Mary-Anne’s jumpsuit was denim and almost painfully unflattering. Paired with her cropped hair, she looked more like she belonged at a factory than at CBGB. Definitely didn’t come off as a groupie. Gene preferred his girls softer-looking than that.

          Desperation, optimism, and half a cocktail were pushing Paul into more action than he’d readily got out of him this whole time. For how long, Gene didn’t know. Paul clasped his free hand in Gene’s again and they both headed for her. She was perched by the wall, nursing a drink of her own, talking aimlessly to a couple of guys.

           “Mary-Anne, right?” Paul interrupted gracelessly, flashing a grin. “Nice to meet you.”

           Mary-Anne offered up a perturbed look in response, one that faded when her eyes went from Paul to Gene.

           “Hi.”

           “You know Carol, yeah?”

           God. Gene wasn’t any better at schmoozing than Paul was, but going right to it, with only Gene’s celebrity to even out the abruptness of the question… he just shook his head.

           “Carol Jensen? Yeah. Do you want her?” Mary-Anne wasn’t looking at Paul when she said it. She was looking at Gene. “Don’t make her ask for you.”

           “I’m not—” Paul bristled, but Gene cut him off.

           “I don’t want her. It’s Paul Stanley that does.”

           Gene’s concern that they’d gotten the wrong bartender, and the wrong friend, dissolved at the look on Mary-Anne’s face. It was amused in a way that made him uneasy.

           “Did it work?”

           “Did what work?”

           “She hates that guy’s guts.” Mary-Anne took a long gulp of her drink, and shook her head. “I dunno why. I always thought you were supposed to be the worst one, what with all the pictures. But every time a KISS song comes on…” Mary-Anne clicked her tongue. “That’s it, baby.”

           “Where’s she at now? He really wants to see her.”

           “I don’t know. Last I heard, she was getting into Studio 54 almost every night.”

           “Seriously?” Paul blurted. “How is she—”

           “You know how.”

           Paul faltered. Gene’s mind was in overdrive. Unconsciously, his hand tightened around Paul’s.

          “Do you see her often? Can you… do you have her number? Or her address?” he asked suddenly. “Give me yours, too, while you’re at it. I’ll have all our albums sent signed.”

          “Don’t bother with that.” Mary-Anne waved her hand. “Rockstars stopped owing me a long time ago. I’ll give you her address for free. You got a pen?”

          Gene had lifted one on accident from an autograph-seeker earlier. He handed it over. She squinted in the club lights to scribble it down on a napkin. She was talking as she wrote.

          “I used to really be in the scene a couple years back. Carol still thinks she’s gonna be the next Bebe or Pamela des Barres. I told her she’d be better off just being Carol.” She gave Gene the napkin. He passed it to Paul on automatic. “She can’t keep an apartment. I can’t promise you’ll get her.”

          “I’ll take the chance. You’ve been very helpful.”

          Mary-Anne shrugged.

         “Sure, sure.” Another gulp of her drink. “You be good to her, okay?”

          “To Carol?”

          “No.” She looked at Paul hard, then shook her head. “You’re too sweet for all this bullshit. Don’t let him screw that up for you.”

--

           They left the club about an hour after that. Paul wanted to head off immediately, but Gene didn’t trust Paul with that half a cocktail in him, especially now that he was down several dozen pounds and a handful of inches. Couldn’t metabolize the alcohol as well. So they listened to the band—the Ramones, or so someone said—and Gene signed more autographs for an audience that was getting drunker by the minute.

          “They’re from Queens,” Paul called out over the din at one point. God help him, he had actually started jumping around a bit once they’d gotten more than midway through their setlist. Every excitable hop sent his t-shirt gradually riding up, breasts still bouncing slightly with the movement, despite the bra. Unaware as hell. Gene had to resist the urge to tug down the hem for him.

          “Who?”

          “The band, they’re from Queens.”

          “They’ve been on the same note for three songs straight!”

          Paul started laughing.

          “That’s punk.”

          “That’s shit, Paul.”

          “They love it, though. Can’t you tell they love it?”

          Gene had to admit he could. He thought he knew what Paul meant now, about the bands at CBGB. How they had that exuberance about them that KISS was missing. That rawness. KISS used to be terrifying, in-your-face, but now… shit, they had just-add-water tattoos and foldout paper pistols included in their albums like they were Cracker Jack prizes. Looking at the Ramones ramming through another toneless song, he realized, a little morosely, that what they had would dissolve as soon as they hit it big, too. If they ever did.

          “We better go before they finish up the set. I bet they’ll wanna talk to you.” Paul cocked his head. “You don’t wanna get mobbed on the way out. There’s another exit, I’ll show you.”

           Gene checked his watch before nodding. Paul took his hand again and led him out of the club and back into the watery late evening. They got back to the parking lot without incident, and soon, Paul was headed straight to Carol’s apartment.

           “I don’t think we’ll get her tonight, honestly,” Paul said. “Studio 54 doesn’t exactly turn into a pumpkin at midnight.”

           “None of the discos do.”

           “But we’ve still got a location. Her address is everything we need, really. If we can leave her a note, or… I bet she’s got roommates; if we can tell them, we can get in contact. We won’t have to hunt around in Studio 54 tomorrow. We can just go for it.”

           “Have you thought about what you’re going to say to her?”

           Paul shrugged.

           “I’ll offer to pay her. I don’t know what else she could want.” Paul turned off on a corner. “I still don’t know what I did to her.”

           “You fucked her.”

           “Yeah, but… I wasn’t mean about it. I don’t even remember us getting together the first time. You think I got her pregnant?”

           “Maybe. The psychic and Mary-Anne both said that she hated you.”

           “But if I did, then, shit, couldn’t she have filed a paternity lawsuit? KISS would’ve just settled out of court, given her some hush money… she didn’t have to curse me over it.”

           “Maybe you gave her VD.”

           “But all you need for VD is antibiotics! How would she know it was me, anyway? Groupies’ll do anybody.”

           “I don’t know, Paul.” The area was getting crummier with every block, the apartment complexes seeming almost despondent. More of New York City looked like that than he’d allowed himself to see in years. The filth, the wretchedness was squared away like an unruly child. It made Gene feel almost ashamed, as Paul pulled into a crammed parking lot about a block from the complex. Most of the other car models there were a decade old or more. Paul’s stood out painfully against them. “Are you really sure you want to go in?”

           “I’m not scared.”

           “Let me be scared for you. Mary-Anne was.”

           “Mary-Anne thinks I’m some starry-eyed idiot that thinks you just wanna play patty-cake.” Paul snorted. “I’ll pass.”

           “I’m coming with you.”

           Paul pursed his lips but nodded.

           The rain had slowed to a drizzle. Gene had Paul by the arm instead of the hand now as they walked down the block. It wasn’t deserted, if you knew where to look. Every bit of it derelict and abandoned. Gene was worried they’d get mugged—fuck, wouldn’t that be something for the papers, exactly the unmasking he didn’t need—all the way up until they entered the building, and even then, he wasn’t reassured. The floor was covered in trash and cigarette butts. The out-of-order sign on the elevator didn’t make him any happier.

           “What floor was it again?”

           Paul glanced at the napkin.

           “Seventh.”

           “Great.”

           They took the stairs, Paul following behind Gene. Some of the handrails were nonexistent; all of them had gum stuck beneath them. Gene could smell marijuana smoke leaking from one of the apartments. Maybe more.

          “This is a real crappy place, Gene,” Paul said after two or three flights. He wasn’t even panting yet.

           “No kidding.”

           “I mean… I never thought about it. Before. I never thought about what the girls go home to.” Paul swallowed. “It sounds so fucking naïve, right, but I really—I really assumed they were all… y’know, college girls, or something, not…”

           He trailed off to nothing by the time they made it to her floor. Gene watched him check the napkin again, and then they headed to her door. 714.

           “You sure you want to try?” Gene’s throat felt odd. “It’s almost two. If she’s here, you’ll just piss her off.”

           “I should’ve waited until tomorrow,” Paul mumbled. “We’re already here. I might as well.”

           He knocked on the door. Waited a couple seconds. One more knock. There was a rustling sound, then a few thumps. Footsteps. The door opened, just a bit, the door chain on top more visible in the fluorescent light than the face of the woman answering.

           “The fuck are you doing? Jesus.”

           “Hey, I—I’m sorry, I was looking for Carol, Carol Jensen, I thought that—” Paul glanced at Gene, but the woman cut him off before Gene could add anything more.

           “Carol got out of here two weeks ago.”

           “Do you know where she might’ve—”

           Her eyes narrowed.

           “No, and I don’t care. That little bitch stiffed us out of her share of the rent. Find her yourself.”

[the--sad--hatter]

Name Calling (The Final Chapter)

FANDOM - MARVEL MCU, DEADPOOL & X-MEN

PAIRING - BUCKY X READER (female reader, no physical descriptions)

WARNINGS - ALL OF THEM, SMUT, VIOLENCE ANGST

DESCRIPTION -  

Vernichtung - Destruction, Annhialation.

It was what you were named and what you were supposed to be but the only thing you wanted to destroy was Bucky Barnes.

The ongoing and bloody war of words between you and Bucky turns in your favor when a disgruntled one night stand of his lets slip a secret when you run into her in the elevator… Now you have all the ammunition you need to destroy your enemy but you don’t plan on killing him quickly. Oh no, Bucky Barnes was going to suffer and you were going to enjoy every second. You just didn’t count on enjoying it quite so much.

But when your past catches up to you in the form of the mad scientist who made you, Bucky might be one of the only things that can save you from yourself. You can’t run from what you are but with his help, you can fight back.

Current Word Count -  130,853

MASTERLIST  or   Read on Ao3

Moodboard by @talesofakindredspirit

Chapter Forty-Eight - The Final Chapter

Bucky stood under the blistering hot water and didn’t feel it. The water swirling down the drain was tinged pink. Blood and dirt had soaked through his clothes, there was so much of it.

He had failed, he hadn’t been able to protect you from Docherty. Your final words played over and over again in his mind.  

His metal hand clenched and he slammed it into the shower wall, tile cracking under his fist.

He remembered to absolute devastation and terror on Starks face when he landed and saw him kneeling on the ground, your locket clutched in his fist.

He drew his fist back and slammed it into the wall again.

He remembered Sam blinking back tears and storming away.

He sunk to his knees as the water beat down on him, cleansing your dirt from his skin. It wasn’t enough to cleanse his sins. He had failed you.

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

Tony held your locket in his hand, flipped open to reveal the photo of you, him and Pepper. Your cracked phone lying on the table beside him lit up with Pepper’s photo and when he saw the contact she was listed under his resolve cracked and he screamed.

The table crashed against the wall as he flipped it, his tears finally breaking free.

He had sworn to protect you and he had failed. Docherty had waltzed right up to you and taken you away.

His little girl was in the hands of a monster and he didn’t have the strength to tell Pepper, the woman you had come to love as a mother.

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

Steve Rogers with the master of having a plan, or at least pretending that he had one.

This was the one time he needed one the most, everyone else was falling apart and so the burden fell on his shoulders. His best friend was utterly destroyed and it had taken all of Steve's strength to convince Bucky to at least go and have a shower.

Tony was currently destroying furniture and even if Steve could find the words to stop him he wasn't sure he had the heart.

Sam was just destroying a punching bag and asking Friday every ten minutes for an update on whether Natasha had found anything.

Steve stocked in the empty corridor and leaned against the wall letting his back slide down it until he was sat on the floor. He needed a minute. Just a minute and then he would go back to being the captain and leading the search for you. But just for a minute he needed to be Steve Rogers, your friend.

And as your friend he was scared for you. Scared didn't feel like strong enough word more like terrified. But more than that he was angry. You had been through enough in your life, you didn't deserve this. Bucky had already suffered far more than enough. And at the end of all of your suffering the two of you had found one another only to be ripped apart and it wasn't fair.

He didn't need a minute, he didn't deserve a minute, he had to get up and find you now. No matter what it took.

You were coming home.

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

Natasha knew that Steve was going to try and bear the burden of this, but she would be damned if she would let him bear it alone.

Tony was falling apart and she didn't blame him. Barnes was broken and she didn't blame him either. If life hadn't made her so ruthless then she might have been falling apart as well. She wanted too, of course she did. Despite what people thought the black widow did indeed have a heart and it was bigger and fuller than anyone could have guessed. There was a large space in that heart reserved for her Kotoynok.

But allowing herself to feel the pain of your loss would not save you. Calling every contact and connection she had, calling in every favour she was owed and offering every favour she could... That might find you.

Steve and Bucky joined her and the rest of the team in the room. Only Sam and Tony were missing and they came in shortly after. She watched Steve put on the Captains mask before he addressed her.

“Romanov?”

“Sorry Cap, I have nothing.” She said and to anyone who didn’t know it her it would have sounded cold and uncaring, bored even. To those who did know her though, it was clear she was frustrated and in pain.

Steve sighed in response.

“Stark?”

“We’ve hacked every satellite. We lost the copter over New York, they probably landed and switched crafts. I don’t know.” Tony sounded drained, there wasn't a hint of snark on his tone and it was almost painful to hear.

“Pretty big risk, stopping in New York. Why here?” Natasha mused.

“What if it wasn't a risk? What if it was calculated? Think about it, he kills the mother she didn’t know she had in the place where he took hope from her once already. He leaves a book about a monster she can identify with in her home on her birthday.” Sam said, sitting up straight as he worked through the clues.

“Wilson’s right. We’re too close to this, all we are seeing how everything he’s doing is affecting her. We aren’t asking what effect he’s aiming for. So what does he want? What’s his goal?”Natasha continued.

“The apocalypse.” Steve said.

“And if we wanted her to start an apocalypse, how would we do it?” Sam asked them.

“We wouldn’t, even if we did we couldn’t. She’s too good a person.” Tony snapped.

“No. She isn’t. She’s somebody who chose hope, time and time again and he could never break her of that habit.” Clint pointed out.

“Uh guys?” Bruce said.

“You want to break somebody’s spirit, take away what they’re fighting for.” Bucky spoke up.

“He’s still in New York. He can’t get what he wants from her so long as we are still alive.” Natasha concluded.

“Guys!”

They all turned and looked round at Bruce, finally seeing what he had been trying to show them.

Outside the window, behind Bruce.... Black lightning rising from the ground a few blocks away.

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

The phone screen cracked under his grip as he hung up.

He had kept you at arms length, telling himself it was for your own good, that you would be happier and safer.

What if he had just told you truth? Would you have accepted him? Would he have been able to be a father?

Was it too late?

He walked into the Professor’s office.

“Charles?”

“She is a mutant no matter what else she is Logan, Cerebro can find her.”

“Do it. Find my daughter.”

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

“I can’t get near her. Too many agents between us.” Natasha huffed as she fought her way through a flock of agents.

At this point it was impossible to tell who was Project Vernichtung and who was Hydra.

“I’m having the same problem.” Steve huffed.

“Eyes in the sky?”

“Nothing, too much chaos.” Clint informed them.

“I can’t get anywhere near her without being ripped apart.” Tony admitted.

“I never thought I’d say this but I really wish Deadpool was here.” Steve admitted.

“Deadpool is two blocks East, evacuating a pet store.” Sam supplied.

It was a familiar scene, the streets of New York turned into a Battleground and more than one avenger on the scene was having trouble with it. Only this time instead of the Chitauri, it was Hydra and project Vernichtung they were battling and instead of Loki being the villain, he was diligently fighting beside them.

Chaos reigned everywhere they looked and every time they made any headway with the enemy the screams of the innocent pulled them aside. Dozens upon dozens of scared people were pulled off the streets and directed to safety while enemy agents fell under the might of the two Asgardians, The Captain's shield or the widow's well-aimed bullets.

No matter how hard they fought, how many they killed or how many they saved, none of them could get close to the source of the true chaos.

The earth beneath their feet was shaking, buildings are starting to crumble and they knew they were running out of time. Still... None of them could bring themselves to ask the important question of how exactly they were going to stop you.

"Guys, we have a problem. A really really really big problem." Clint told them over the comms.

“Is it bigger than the two evil organisations that have teamed up to kidnap and use one of our own team members against us?" Natasha asked.

"It's not her, it's Docherty. Docherty is Vernichtung."

"Then where is she? What did he do to her?"Tony asked worriedly.

Throughout the fight Bucky had remained silent, slashing stabbing shooting kicking punching tackling his way towards the woman he loved. But it wasn't her at the eye of the storm.

He was torn between intense relief that you were not responsible for this and soul crashing terror about where you might actually be. About what your grandfather had done to you if he was the one who now held the power of Vernichtung.

It should have been impossible, but it was happening. Docherty had done something and all Bucky cared about was finding out what it was, finding out where you were. Finding you.

If you were hurt, if you were... No. No you were ok, you had to be. His last memory of you would not be of failing you. He would find you and together you would all save the city. He was going to rebuild the cabin, wherever you wanted it. He was going to spend the rest of his life making sure that he never failed you again, he was going to spend the rest of his life loving you.

"Clint, find me a clear path to him. Loki, create a diversion. Stark, I’ll draw his fire. The second you have a shot you take it. Steve?"

"I've got your back. Till the end of the line."Steve said, clasping his shoulder.

“Alright Barnes, take point. Let’s get m... our girl.” Tony said.

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

“Are you really willing to do this?”It sneered.

“It’s the only way to save the people I love.”

“But you will die. This version of you will die.”Vernichtung pointed out.

“So be it.” You told her.  

“Come on Princess. Wake up.” Logan’s gruff voice told you as his arms slid under you and raised you from the ground.

As he carried you out of the building your wounds sealed closed and he breathed a sigh of relief.

You opened your pitch black eyes.

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

“Come now Mister Barnes, no need to be so shy.”Docherty called out loudly.

Bucky internally swore and stepped out from behind the car as Loki dropped the illusions he was creating.

“That’s Sargent Barnes to you Dr Frankenstein.” Tony said, landing next to Bucky on the ground.

“What are you doing Stark?” He hissed.

“I’m not letting you walk into the lions den alone. When we find my daughter I’m not telling her that her evil grandpa turned you into Soldier Soup.” Tony hissed back.

Docherty smirked and lowered his hands, the deathwave receding.

“Is it just me or does he not look so healthy?” Clint asked through the comms.

Clint was right, Docherty’s skin was almost grey and black goo was dripping from his ears.

“I do not think he is strong enough to contain Vernichtungs power.” Loki informed them as he shrewdly gazed at the Doctor.

“Very well, Sargent Barnes. What exactly are your intentions with my granddaughter?” Docherty asked.

“That’s between me, her and her family.” Bucky growled.

“Speaking of my sweet child, where is she? She missed her curfew.” Tony added.

“Come now Mr Stark, you’re a man of science. You must know that if I am here with this power then she is dead.” Docherty mocked.

Tony and Bucky stopped walking, twin looks of fear on their faces.

“He’s lying! Do not fall for his tricks.” Loki hissed.

Tony raised his gauntlet.

“I’m going to ask one last time before he does.” Tony said, motioning to Bucky.

“Where is my daughter?”

“If you want to see her again, then stand down. All of you.” Docherty bartered.

“Stark, if he can’t contain the power it’s probably killing him. I doubt he has much fight left in him.” Steve said.

“He can’t take us all out seperatley.” Natasha deduced.

“Stark, Bucky, split up!” Steve yelled.

Tony and Bucky looked at one another for a split second before they did what The Captain suggested.

Bucky threw himself to the left and Tony shot skyward. Docherty screamed in frustration and raised his hands. He made a split second decision to blast the deathwave at Tony.

“NO!” Bucky roared, watching helplessly as the black lightning shot towards Iron Man.

Seconds before it hit it was pushed back by a red mist and Wanda stepped into view, an intense look of concentration on her face.

“I can’t hold it for long. But I can hold it for longer than he can.” She declared.

“You can not contain Death, witch!” Docherty yelled.

It was an intense battle of wills, so much resting on the outcome. Sweat beaded along Wanda’s brow as she strained against Docherty.

“Everybody fall back. We’ll hit him from further back, expend his energy.” Steve commanded.

“Incoming.” Was all the warning they had from Clint.

Bucky looked up and his heart seized in his chest. It was you. Or was Vernichtung, in the end it didn't matter to him. It was you. Good or bad, clear-eyed or black-eyed it was you.

“You have something that belongs to me” You snarled at Docherty.

“And you can have it back when they are dead.” He gasped.

“Give it to me!”You screamed.

You stepped across the ground towards him, a power and confidence bursting from within you, your shoulders thrown back and your head held high.

“Their deaths are your Legacy, my gift to you!” Docherty yelled, pushing back against Wanda’s power.  

An inhuman scream of rage erupted from your throat and it made the hairs on Bucky's arm stand up. There was no humanity in that sound.

“I'm starting to worry she might not actually be on our side.” Clint said.

“Loki the lie detector, any input?” Tony asked desperately, his eyes glued to you.

Loki was deep in concentration as he gazed at you

“Whatever that is it is not mortal.” He concluded.

“Sam no! Fall back!” Steve shouted through the comms but it was too late.

Sam landed on the ground in front of you, his hands held out placatingly.

“Baby girl, it’s me. He’s dying, let him die.” Sam implored you.

You looked straight through him.

“Give me my power.” You snarled again.

“If you want it, Kill him.” Docherty demanded.

You didn't hesitate, you didn't think about it at all. Your hand shot out and closed around Sam’s neck and twisted.

He dropped to the ground, unimportant to you as you continued walking forwards like you hadn’t just killed your best friend.

The Avengers were frozen in shock. Their minds couldn’t catch up to what happened as you stalked towards Docherty, growling.

The Doctor looked up at you reverently and sunk to his knees.

“Take it. Take it and cleanse the world, finally.” He gasped out emotionally, holding his hands out to you.

You grabbed his hands and threw your head back as the black poison moved from his veins to yours, rippling across your flesh.

“At last.” You hissed.

“You are free Vernichtung, free to be what you were born to be.” Docherty said.

Sam stood up behind you and cricked his neck before nodding at Loki. The illusion rippled and Logan came to stand behind you.

“No.” Docherty whispered.

“You made me what I am. Allow me to return the favour. Allow me to make you into what you truly are.” You snarled viciously.

“Heartless.”

You plunged your hand into the doctors chest, ripping his heart out and crushing it in your grasp.

“When you see the devil, ask him ask him why you would do this to me and not expect my revenge.” You whispered as his body crumpled to the ground.

You dropped his heart onto the ground at your feet and turned your back on the corpse.

“What the hell just happened?” Clint wondered out loud.

“Kit Kat?” Tony whispered, landing in front of you.

You looked like you, the black veins receding. But your eyes, they were dark. Not fully black but dark.

“Is it you or is it Vernichtung?” Tony asked.

“Well we aren’t dead and Docherty is, does it matter?” Logan growled.

“I wasn’t asking you.” Tony snapped.

You ignored them both, walking away from the argument.

“Hey, hey where are you going?” Tony snapped, running after you but Logan grabbed him.

“Let her go.”

“Like hell I’m going to let her go, get off me.”

Bucky met you in the middle of the road.

“Doll...” He whispered.

You cocked your head but didn't answer him.

“I love you. Whatever version of you this is, how ever many there are. I love you.” He told you.

“Are you really willing to do this?”It sneered.

“It’s the only way to save the people I love.”

“But you will die. This version of you will die.”Vernichtung pointed out.

“So be it.” You told her.  

“You cut me off, now you want me back?”

“It’s the only way. There will be no more me, no more you. Just us, as one. Something new.”

You were something else. Bucky had seen it in your eyes, what Tony hadn’t, what Logan had struggled to grasp when you explained.

Bucky saw it and he didn't care.

“James... I don’t know what, who I am.” You whispered.

“You’re you.” he said as if it was the simplest thing in the world. And to him, it was.

“Whoever that is, whoever I am... I love you.” You told him earnestly.

He pulled you into his arms and kissed you.

James Buchanan Barnes, Sargent Barnes, The Winter Soldier, Bucky… Whatever name he was going by didn’t matter, he was the love of your life. You absolutely adored him. It wasn’t a fleeting sort of love, it was more than a mere crush. It was pure, searing, unadulterated, irrevocable love. He brought out the absolute best in you, if you ever became a hero again then he would be your redemption arc.

“Doll? Marry me.”

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

Soooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

There will be a short epilogue where I will gush in the author's notes about how much I love you all and everything in this chapter that you might have questions about will be explained.

But

Thoughts????

@nerdandproud-86 @harrison-shot-first@thejourneyneverendsx @thelostallycat @inquisitor-selvala@the-corruptor @iovher @kendrawr-kitkat @phoenix-whiskey-tears @the–real-wombat @buckitybarnes@fairislesheets@angieptt @meganjonezzzz @dugan365@fluffeh-kitty@memanda17 @krystallynx @theonelittleone@piscesbarnes@free-as-fishes @tarastudiesalot@captainamericasbeard@dropthepizza346 @jaynnanadrews@likes-to-smell-books@drdorkus @life-wanderer@metalarmlover @animegirlgeeky@jsmith509

[imaginedanganronpa]

Can you please do some headcanons on Shuichi and some of the V3 cast being affected by the Despair disease? Shuichi being a meaner version of Togami and says mean to stuff to the remaining cast that are surprisely true about themselves. Like taking their flaws or insecurities and slapping them in the face.

I decided to just write the whole Cast being affected with it, hope that’s okay! But poor Saihara, I can’t imagine him doing those things. 

Fair Warning: Some Minor Spoilers from SDR2 and Spoilers for the Mastermind in V3!

V3 Cast Getting Infected With the Despair Disease! 

Kaede Akamatsu

Pessimistic Disease

Kaede is normally a veryoptimistic leader-type who sometimes forcefully pushes her friends towards uncovering the Mastermind and finding the truth, but after being affected by the Despair Disease, all of those leadership qualities will be discarded.

Her firm, strong-willed character disappears and is replaced by a much more pessimistic version of herself. Kaede will have a weak mind and feel no motivation in this Killing Game.

Kaede is convinced that they are all going to die here and succumbs to the very Motive behind the Despair Disease as she falls into Despair and completely gives up.

On top of her pessimistic attitude, Kaede no longer cares about the well-being of her classmates and becomes quite selfish. In her eyes, nothing they do in this Killing Game matters because they will all either die or be trapped here for the rest of their lives. She sees no reason to fight since it all seems pointless to her, anyway; and doesn’t want to give the others a false sense of hope and security.

Kaede has no desire to motivate the others and couldn’t care less about who dies or becomes the Blackened and who lives. She has also seemingly convinced herself that, “I’ll be the next victim anyway.”

She becomes much less brave and more willing to give up her life because she no longer sees a real reason to try or live.

Kaede also becomes increasingly irritable and vulgar, especially towards her classmates. Any positive attribute she had before getting infected seemed to be a thing of the past.

Overall, she doesn’t trust the others whatsoever and puts her guard up, not letting anyone get close to her - especially including Saihara Shuichi; she considers him to be the most sketchy out of all of them and believes that he has something to hide involving his Detective talent. Kaede develops a strong hatred for her classmates and detests being around them, nevertheless speaking to them.

After being infected with this Disease, she no longer has any faith in their situation and reverts back to her previous self.

Saihara Shuichi

Crude Disease

After being infected with the Despair Disease, Saihara will become increasingly over-confident and even somewhat cocky, believing that he has a place above the others and that they are inferior to him. 

Before, he was anxious and a bit reserved, but now Saihara demands to be the center of attention and talks down to the rest of the participants. Any fear that he had before subsides and he no longer has any issues with social interaction or insecurities.

He also refuses to use his talent for beneficial purposes, believing that everyone else’s talents are pointless while his is the most valuable one here, and that they should be begging him to use his abilities to help them. 

In Saihara’s eyes, they would have been dead by now if it weren’t for him and he shouldn’t waste his talent on useless individuals.

However, this causes him to believe in himself a little bit too much which actually alters his skills and diminishes his talent.

Saihara can be incredibly mean at times, using his talent to uncover the other’s insecurities and then using that against them. He also isn’t afraid to expose the others or belittle them with facts about themselves that are surprisingly true, being far too brutally honest with the others and definitely stepping over some sensitive lines.

He isn’t nearly as serious as he was before, often making dark jokes about their situation or taking breaks to poke fun at the remaining cast. Saihara comes across as incredibly crude and downright evil, causing the others to avoid him rather than flocking to him for help and support.

Instead of making logical decisions, Saihara puts blind faith into his abilities and goes off of hunches, as well as wildly accusing the other students and talking down to them like they are children.

He also shows little fear about their situation, not taking it as seriously as he should and shrugging off the Trials. If someone gets something twisted or accuses the wrong person, he will also call them, “Stupid” or “Idiotic” and laugh in their face.

And with improved people-skills, Saihara not only comes across as rude and mean, but can also come off as a bit flirty and confident, possibly too confident for his own good.

Maki Harukawa

Compassionate Disease

Before, Maki was an incredibly reserved and sometimes hostile person who showed little to no empathy. Now, however, she is always seen with a big, bright smile on her face and an overly preppy, bubbly attitude to boot.

Maki shows a great love an adoration for everything around her and cares about them way too much.

This isn’t limited to people, though, and she also shows love towards inanimate objects and animals as well. She is shown to be greatly affected whenever one of her classmate’s is in a bad mood or gets injured and can be seen talking to plants and animals.

Maki cries easily and at nearly everything in an almost childlike, immature way. She is much less serious and more carefree, even acting like a child at times.

Overprotective of her loved ones, which is everyone, she is constantly checking up on the other students to make sure that they are okay and asking them how their day was, providing emotional support if they need it. She may also pry if you try shooing her away.

Maki is overly friendly and just wants everyone else to get along. She has no tolerance for violence or hostility of any kind and often breaks up fights, getting extremely emotional whenever her classmates argue.

After all, she feels way too much and is much more sensitive now than before, all of her emotions are much more intense and even the smallest thing can send her over the edge. Maki follows her heart much more than her mind.

She can be a bit air-headed at times and come off as oblivious, not always understanding the weight of the Killing Game.

She is also much more attached to the others, especially Kaito. She is constantly bringing him gifts and clinging onto him even when he doesn’t want her around, and often giggles like a school girl whilst blabbing on and on about how much she loves not only Kaito but everyone else here.

Needless to say, once Maki was finally cured, she was disgusted with herself for acting this way. She refused to believe that she could actually be like that, Disease or not.

Ouma Kokichi

Honest Disease

Despite his talent as an Ultimate Supreme Leader, once exposed to the Despair Disease, Ouma won’t be able to stand evil motives and wishes to rid the world of any and all negativity and evil-doers. He also positively motivates his classmates to finding the Mastermind.

Ouma is extremely compassionate and shows love for his friends, and could never imagine doing anything to hurt them. 

And most importantly, with this Disease he must only tell the truth. He can’t lie about anything, no matter how minor, and even if he wanted to lie, he wouldn’t be able to because the Disease wouldn’t let him;.

He is obligated to be one-hundred percent truthful, one-hundred percent of the time.

He sticks up for others when they are being tormented, demanding that the other leaves them alone and finds someone else to pick on. He can’t stand seeing others torment his friends.

Ouma becomes very serious and mature, as well as becoming much less eccentric. He is no longer the over-dramatic character that we have all come to know.

He can’t tell when others are lying so he often blindly trusts them and is easily manipulated; he becomes quite oblivious and rather innocent.

And Ouma himself becomes a bit dumb and all of his skills disappear - he turns into an awful liar. Since the Disease won’t let him lie, it makes it obvious when he tries bending the truth so that anyone would be able to read him like a book. 

He’ll start sweating and fidgeting nervously, his voice rises and he looks increasingly uncomfortable and worried. When he gets called out, Ouma will become frantic and shy.

All he wants is for everyone else to remain positive in their situation, taking up a Protagonist-like role in this scenario.

Ouma is also one who becomes really uncomfortable when he’s finally cured. “Damn, I wonder what kinds of secrets I spilled!~” he giggles nonchalantly.

Himiko Yumeno

Energetic Disease

Normal Himiko is quite lazy when it comes to anything but magic, but the Despair Disease flips that. She has a ‘too the max’ personality about anything and everything as she bounces off the walls with energy, but she shows very little interest in magic.

Eventually, she’ll just admit that she isn’t a real Mage and that all of her Magic as well as Magic as a whole is fake, going so far to reveal the secrets behind all of her tricks without a care in the world.

Of course, once she’s finally cured of the Disease she tries casting a ‘Forgetting Spell’ on the others to cover-up her secrets.

When she’s infected, though, Himiko is extremely intelligent and instead of being ‘slow’ she’s normally one of the first people to catch onto suspicious behavior. 

In a lot of ways, her intuition improves and she replaces Saihara as the most valuable student in the Killing Game.

Himiko is always full of bountiful energy, never tired nor is she lazy. She is loud and somewhat crass, always making her presence known.

All she wants is for the others to try their best and can get easily angered, especially when trying to encourage her friends. Himiko is probably the most motivated out of all of them to succeed.

She matures greatly and becomes much more serious, no longer making time for childish things and dropping her whole ‘I’m a Real Mage!’ act. 

Her personality is similar to that of Tenko Chabashira’s real personality in the sense that Himiko has an extreme nature, and she isn’t afraid to go out of her way in hopes of motivating her friends, sometimes coming across as too intense or out of line.

She no longer feels any real need to sleep, and because of this Himiko will be even more tired than usual once she finally does get cured of the Disease. But she can be seen and heard at all hours of the night, often getting nose complaints from her neighbors.

Himiko will become much more talkative as well, and once she starts you really can’t stop her. She just keeps going, and going, and going…

She almost seems annoying to the rest of her peers, her endless energy will drain you if you’re around her for too long.

Rantaro Amami

God-Complex Disease

Before, Rantaro was probably the most ordinary person out of the Cast, and he recognized this. He believed that he was plain in comparison to the rest of the students.

However, now he has a strong God-Complex and sees himself as much higher up than the rest of the participants. The others should bow down to him as far as he’s concerned.

Rantaro places himself on a pedestal and thinks he is much greater than the rest of the students here. Seemingly above average, he views everyone else as scum who should bow down to him and acknowledge his greatness.

He also remembers his talent when infected with the Disease. As a result, this fuels his Complex because, as he sees it, he has survived one of these scenarios in the past therefore he is the most well-off person here.

Rantaro’s love for adventure disappears, though, and he turns into a Homebody in the truest sense. He has no desire to see the world and all he wants to do is escape the Killing Game and make it home. 

His calm, relaxing personality is replaced by an anxious and tense one, to the point where just being around him will make you feel tense as well. He’ll begin to worry and panic about their situation. Rantaro grows impatient and irritable around the others as well.

When this happens, he can lash out and go on a rant about how much better he is than everyone else and how he doesn’t deserve to die here. If anything, he thinks he’s the only one worth anything, therefore he should be the sole survivor.

Rather than trying to be helpful, he accuses everyone else of being suspicious and, rather bluntly, finds everyone else to be mysterious and untrustworthy.

And unlike his usual self, Rantaro becomes a complete and utter womanizer who goes around flirting with any female he comes across. When they don’t reciprocate, he gets angry because “They should be thankful a guy like me is actually talking to them.”

Tenko Chabashira

Timid Disease

Tenko is normally the excitable, loud, boisterous girl that is bursting at the seams with energy. However, this Disease calms her down and rewrites her entire personality.

She becomes much more quiet, gloomy, and aloof. Rather than being loud and obnoxious, Tenko disappears into the back of the room and her classmates usually forget that she’s even there. She is far too timid to approach the others and instead silently observes them from a distance.

She bottles up her emotions rather than freely expressing them and doesn’t let others in on how she feels.

Her talent is rendered useless under the effects of the Despair Disease, because infected-Tenko can’t stand fighting and hates violence. She is quite weak and dependent on others to do things for her. She also doesn’t like seeing others fighting nor does she do so herself.

She actually becomes quite clumsy and gets hurt easily, her body becoming riddled with bruises.

Interestingly enough, her preferences switch as well. She becomes much more inwardly hostile towards other degenerate women, even belittling herself at times for being stuck in a “Weak woman’s body.” 

And on the other hand, Tenko is more than welcoming and warm around the male characters, though, even acting flustered or possibly flirty around them. 

She has to take several showers once she’s cured of the Disease after interacting with the men so much. She also bombards Himiko with apologies for anything that may have been mistakenly said.

Tenko is much more logical, careful and hesitant when it comes to other’s feelings, and she abandons her reckless nature and thinks ahead, sometimes overthinking, and considering every possibility before making a choice instead of rushing into a quick decision.

Kiibo

Impolite Disease

In a lot of ways, infected-Kiibo acts like normal-Kokichi. The pair have jarringly different personalities after all. Typically, Kiibo is very polite and serious, although a bit oblivious at times.

Ironically enough, their roles swap and Kiibo becomes the one constantly harassing Ouma.

But now he often terrorizes and messes with the others for the sole purpose to entertain and amuse himself. Where he used to lack social-behaviors and skills, Kiibo now has no issue socializing but comes across as pretty rude and will say impolite things about the others, driving them away instead.

Unfortunately, his lack of social-awkwardness doesn’t process this so he acts overly-confident around the students.

Kiibo doesn’t take things very seriously and makes a lot of jokes, most of which are crude and based on other’s insecurities or hurting their feelings. A lot of them also seem ‘Human-Phobic’ as Kiibo calls it, but he doesn’t care. It’s fine to be Human-Phobic in his eyes since Robots are so much more advanced anyway.

Obviously, he says a lot of discriminatory and rude things as well, never considering the other person’s feelings. He comes off as blatantly prejudiced towards humans. He also loudly and confidently laughs at discriminatory remarks, gaining a pretty twisted sense of humor, which isn’t anything he would normally condone.

Despite the fact that with this Disease, Kiibo acts less robotic and disregards a lot of the functions that define him and set him apart, and acts more human - or, at least as human as possible.

Kiibo can seem a little bit insensitive and has a ‘Screw everyone else’ attitude. 

It seems to affect him more than the other students, though, so even when he was cured there was still traces of the Disease in his system.

Miu Iruma

Moral Disease

Miu is normally a very crass girl who plays it off like she isn’t afraid of anything, but she gets quite affected whenever someone damages her self esteem or says something crude towards her.

The Despair Disease would only intensify that part of herself, causing her to become quite shy and reluctant to show off her skin, covering her body in any way possible.

Miu would be much more defensive and less hostile afterwards, and her insecurities would flare up as she belittles herself and sees herself as much more inferior than the others.

Morally, she quiets down and becomes much more ethically-sound, getting visibly uncomfortable when sexual things are mentioned and starts preaching about how we should all be more responsible when it comes to our bodies and sexuality, as she insists that we need to suppress our lusty sides and cherish the ‘sacredness’ of our bodies.

Miu still thinks she is below others but isn’t nearly as emotional anymore - rather, she is seen as visibly depressed and dragging herself around. Miu hangs her head down low and doesn’t really look up at the others. 

She keeps all of her negative thoughts internally and is less outwardly emotional and affected by their words.

But if people ignore her, Miu gets obviously irritated and demands that they show her more attention. She becomes much more commanding and less afraid of receiving backlash.

She becomes repulsed by machinery, including Kiibo, and sexual favors, and instead talks only with perfect, proper, and poised speech. She no longer swears or is very vulgar.

Miu cares about what others think more and this makes her much more hesitant to say something, provoking her to think about what she’ll say before it comes spewing out of her mouth.

And as far as her talent goes, Miu will no longer be interested in Inventions nor will she have the mental creativity to come up with them, becoming much lazier and unmotivated.

Kaito Momota

Halfhearted Disease

Until his normal self who is a passionate hopeless romantic, Kaito becomes extremely shy and nervous around girls, especially Maki. Although she’s the one who wants his affection, he is too meek to actually give it to her.

He also finds himself being crude and less than compassionate towards Maki, giving her the cold shoulder instead.

He comes very weak, lazy, and unmotivated. All he wants to do is hide in his room and sleep all day, and Kaito would if he could. Rather than having a workout routine, he becomes flimsy and no longer cares about his body or physical strength.

Kaito also couldn’t care less about the others. He isn’t fazed by the Killing Game and it doesn’t matter to him who lives or who dies - he becomes similar to Kaede in that aspect. He doesn’t have any real motivation to escape the Killing Game and won’t put up much of a fight if his life is on the line.

He becomes terrified of taking risks, much more secluded and reserved. Kaito often avoids the others because he doesn’t want to make contact and fears that he will be rejected, his more socially awkward side peeking through in moments like these. Because of this, he doesn’t want to bring very much attention to himself because he doesn’t think he deserves it, and thinks very little of himself.

Kaito’s ‘hero-type’ disappears and he becomes much more weak-hearted.

Not only that, but he is unreliable and independent. He makes promises he can’t keep and will lie just to make himself look better, which makes it hard for him to keep a real schedule.

He finds crude humor entertaining and has a much more laid-back persona, taking life easy and not worrying about the Killing Game too much. Since he is so carefree and halfhearted, it’s hard to actually anger this Kaito.

However, he is much more anxious than usual and demands validation at all times, stuttering and becoming flustered if he doesn’t receive it. His self-worth plummets to an all-time low and he sees himself as inferior and useless compared to everyone else.

Angie Yonaga

Unfaithful Disease

Angie’s defining characteristic is her religion and faith in her God, Atua. The Despair Disease, on the other hand, completely reverses this and causes her to drop all aspects of religion from her life.

She becomes a very firm Atheist, turning into a God-Fearing woman who goes so far to belittle religion and criticize anyone who chooses to follow it. She often rants about how it’s unnecessary, calling those people of faith ‘nut-jobs.’

And since she no longer follows her religion, she can no longer hear or speak to Atua so her incoherent ramblings don’t occur as often, either.

Funnily enough, her accent also disappears after she gets infected with this Disease, which was quite unexpected.

Angie doesn’t care about the others nearly as much as she used to, if at all. She is no longer the preppy, positive girl who wanted to form a ‘Cult’ to protect the rest of the students. Now, she genuinely couldn’t care less about what happens to them.

Secretly, she puts them before herself and is much more willing to sacrifice herself for the greater good, but she’s far too stubborn to actually admit that.

Angie’s generally cheery side is gone and replaced with a pessimistic personality who believes that they’re all going to end up dead. This wouldn’t be an issue for her in the past, though, since she always believed that she’d go to Atua once she passed away…

But this Angie is petrified of dying and wants to put it off for as long as possible. Rather than being upbeat, she is worried that she will face an early death in this Killing Game.

Instead of smiling all the time, Angie’s expression is more neutral and unimpressed now than before.

She has little interest in art since her art previously revolved around her religion and sacrifices to her God, but now she wouldn’t be able to recognize her art if she saw it. Angie would also probably criticize it for being too religious.

In a way, she feels like everyone is against her and refuses to follow blind faith in others, so Angie becomes much more independent and abandons the friendships she’s made with Gonta and Himiko.

Korekiyo Shinguuji

Friendly Disease

Rather than being aloof, lonesome, andcool-headed, the Disease would make Korekiyo much more outgoing and friendly towards the rest of his peers. He would likely see them as superiors and, in a way, romanticize them so pieces of his true personality would remain the same.

But he would be unnaturally friendly and upbeat, ditching his mask and wearing a large, beaming smile across his lips and walk with a pep in his step. 

It’s a little bit strange and uncomfortable to see Korekiyo act this compassionate towards others.

He consider everyone to be his friend and, like Maki, he would cling onto them, becoming much more dependent rather than isolating himself.

Korekiyo would want nothing more than to entertain the rest of the participants and bring them happiness, purposefully seeking them out and wanting to spend time with them and get to know them better. 

He would fixate on others, seeking out friendships with specific people, and try his best to alleviate their situation.

Normally, Korekiyo thinks with his head and makes much more rational, logical decisions; however, now he would be driven by his emotions and use his heart rather than his mind. This causes him to frantically jump to conclusions.

He cares more for people’s personalities rather than their beauty, so his talent gets twisted a little bit but ultimately remains somewhat similar. He wouldn’t be affected by the Disease as intensely as some of the other students, so parts of him are able to shine through.

Korekiyo lessens the distance between himself and his classmates, caring about them and their safety.

He gets overly excited around the others, and his creepily friendly attitude can easily be mistaken for Korekiyo simply being invasive and far too personal.

He’s still a little bit unsettling, but not in the same way. His other personality sometimes peeks through and speaks for him, but that side of him, too, is affected by the Despair Disease and altered in some way.

Kirumi Tojo

Messy Disease

Kirumi, although she doesn’t like to be recognized this way, is like the motherly figure of the group. Her talent as a Maid gets completely overturned and rewritten after she gets exposed to and infected by the Despair Disease, though.

She becomes much more immature and unprofessional, laughing uncontrollably at the most childish jokes and pranks and even playing minor pranks on the others herself. Things that Kirumi would normally refuse to bat an eye at would now have her doubled-over from pure joy, but maybe that wasn’t an entirely bad thing. 

People have always told her that she needs to ‘loosen up’ after all…

More importantly, she becomes much more messy and unorganized, slacking off from her work and refusing to clean up after herself and others. 

She would have stains all over her Maid uniform and her Dorm Room would look like a disaster area.

Kirumi becomes a lot more dependent on others, when before the other students were dependent on her. She needs someone else to assist her with even the most basic tasks and promotes laziness.

Unlike a good, respectable Maid, Kirumi would become incredibly impolite and rude, especially when someone asked her for help or a favor. She would snap and hiss at them to do it themselves.

She stops caring about herself and really lets herself go. This Disease would cause her to become a ‘slob’ in every sense of the world, and she wouldn’t be able to take herself seriously once she did finally get cured.

Kirumi becomes untrustworthy and sketchy rather than the responsible, parental figure that everyone was used to. But she would never commit an immoral act like murder, which is something that actually stays the same as far as her values go.

However, despite her messiness Kirumi will view herself as being above average and demand respect in a very frantic and desperate way.

Gonta Gokuhara                    

Angry Disease

Normal-Gonta would be ashamed of what the Despair Disease does to him. He wouldn’t be able to look at his own reflection for weeks.

It turns him crass and rude, instead of the caring and considerate Gentleman that we all know and love.

Although Gonta would gain an intelligence boost and comprehend things much easier, he wouldn’t always use it beneficially. 

He would become easily angered by the things he is now able to understand, even more-so since the weight of the Killing Game is just now making sense to him.

No longer patient and soft-hearted, Gonta will become absolutely enraged by even the smallest things and becomes more prone to breaking things and using his sheer brute strength against both his classmates and his surroundings.

Gonta will become much more competent, therefore resulting in him being a compulsive liar who refuses to help the others if he doesn’t gain any benefit from it. 

He will lash out easily, much more irritable than before. And Gonta is quite scary and intimidating when he gets angry, completely contrasting the sweet and innocent boy that his class is used to. He can and will threaten you, even using his strength as a gambling chip.

And he becomes much more prone to getting into physical fights, sizing up to his other classmates or even challenging them to fights. If he gets really angry, he’ll start swinging and let his anger out on whatever stands in his way.

Becoming a Gentleman is no longer at the top of Gonta’s priorities and be becomes much more selfish and lets his own desires get in the way of what he should do and what’s right.

In some sense, he thinks of himself as being higher up now. The selfishness shifts his mind into believing that others should respect him, putting himself first every time. Because of this, Gonta stops caring about his classmates in this situation.

The Despair Disease does weaken Gonta, but not as much as you’d think. He still has average strength and enough muscle so that he will pack a punch regardless, especially when enraged. 

Tsumugi Shirogane

Disobedient Disease

Tsumugi is secretly quite smart, considering she is the Mastermind behind their entire situation. But even she isn’t immune to the affects of the Despair Disease - plus, it would look suspicious if she was the only one who wasn’t infected by it,

Tsumugi afterwards would be a little bit ‘dumbed-down’ to say the least. She would act more air-headed and clueless, especially to who the Mastermind could possibly be.

She typically thinks she is pretty plain, so afterwards she would also be much more lively and eccentric, and unafraid to really put herself out there as much. 

She would gain a lot of confidence but would also become much more snarky and snippy towards the others, often times going off on them and losing her temper.

Tsumugi isn’t bothered by Cospox since the Despair Disease cancels its effects out, so she isn’t afraid to strut around in her sexiest cosplay.

Overall, she is much more reckless and carefree now. She is more likely to make dangerous or hasty decisions, without fear of the possible consequences.

The Mastermind within her comes out more easily, so Tsumugi has to be careful and find a balance between her true reserved nature and hidden reckless side so that she doesn’t accidentally expose herself. 

But she could easily use other drugs to cause Confusion or Amnesia among the group if needed.

She somewhat loses interest in the Killing Game and disobeys authority when infected, temporarily disregarding her duties as a Mastermind and having a bit of fun while she’s still here.

However, she wouldn’t get infected with the same amount as the rest of her class, so the effects wouldn’t bother her as intensely, and Tsumugi would still be able to act under her own free-will to some extent.

Ryoma Hoshi

Hopeful Disease

Even though Ryoma insists that he is the ‘Shell of the man he once was,’ the Despair Disease would not revert him back to his normal state. Instead, his entire personality would change, showing that maybe he isn’t so different from his ‘previous self’ after all.

Ryoma would become panicky and cautious over every small detail, defending himself even when that was unnecessary and keeping his guard up at all times. He would also be overwrought and nervous, his skin crawling with fear as he worries that he might be the next victim.

He gets easily shaken up and can freak out over the smallest incidences, but Ryoma remains vigilant and blindly hopeful in their situation.

He would become very soft and sweet towards the others, offering warm and reassuring smiles even to those who don’t want them and he would do his best to encourage the others to find the truth. All he wants is to work together towards finding the Mastermind.

Ryoma, despite remaining suspicious of others, would get as close as possible to the other participants and form bonds with those who were willing. He would want to make friends in this situation, more than welcoming to the rest of the group.

He seems a bit delusional, happy-go-lucky and idealistic even in the Killing Game. Even when things look bad, Ryoma would remain as positive as possible, spreading hope to his other classmates.

With the Motives involving a Time-Limit, he would be the last person willing to sacrifice themselves - he’s simply too afraid of dying and not humble or courageous enough to go through with that. Deep down, he has hope that there is another way out of this.

His normal-self doesn’t act upon or show feelings too often, but he would be a bit more sexual and make more innuendos than before.

Ryoma fantasizes about his future a lot, and is actually excited and desperate to survive this Killing Game.

- Mod Rantaro

[heartofsnark]

MC Comes Out As A Trans Man (KBTBB Headcanons)

Notes: I am a cis person, so while I can educate and ask questions, I will never fully understand the full scope or experience of being trans. This was a request by one of my friends when i was outsourcing the big bunch of Ko-Fi donations that came with no request. I tried hard to do this appropriately, but if I’ve written anything transphobic, hurtful, or just gotten something wrong, please let me know, so I can correct it. 

Eisuke’s MC would be among the most scared to come out as a trans man. Not because he necessarily thinks Eisuke wouldn’t accept him, but because of Eisuke’s status. Eisuke may do a lot of business internationally, but his work is primarily based in Japan, a more conservative country. What is MC being a trans-man means people won’t want to work with Eisuke, what if it ruins the reputation of the Tres Spades and Ichinomiya group. There are a lot of fears and anxieties that go along with this. When MC can’t take it another day and finally comes out to Eisuke, he doesn’t say anything, only listens. He lets MC word vomit it all out, explaining how long he’s struggled with this, how scared he’s been, but every time he’s called a she or something triggers dysphoria for him, he wants to die and he can’t do it anymore.   Once MC is done getting it all out of their system, Eisuke tells them no matter their gender, MC belongs to him. Which is his not so romantic way of saying he’ll love MC no matter what. Anyone who doesn’t want to work with him because of MC isn’t someone he wants to work with and anyone who’d go out of their way to harass MC, will wish they were dead by the time Eisuke is done.

Something important to Eisuke is never making the same mistake twice; it just takes one correction of pronouns for Eisuke to never use the wrong pronouns again.

Eisuke is beyond supportive with MC’s transition, his number one love language is spending money and transitioning to any degree is expensive. Whatever MC wants or needs to help the process is done. If MC wants binders, top of the line best money can buy and Eisuke always messages/calls to remind him when it needs to be taken off for safety reasons. If MC isn’t comfortable wearing dresses or skirts anymore, immediately given a male uniform for the hotel and all those event dresses will be replaced with perfectly tailored suits. If MC wants to start hormone therapy, he’s getting the best doctor on it to administer and keep eye on the treatment. If MC decides they want surgery, Eisuke is doing research into everything that’s needed and where to get the best surgeon. Eisuke will even goes through the trouble of letting MC go through another country for the surgery whichever one has the better process that MC likes. Japan requires sterilization for transitioning, which Eisuke doesn’t like at all, personally. If MC is comfortable with it, he’d still like to have children the conventional way. But, if MC would rather have the surgery in Japan or just wouldn’t want to be pregnant in general, he’ll start looking into surrogates or adoption.

 Soryu isn’t as well-versed in LGBT+ issues or identities, but his reaction to MC telling him he’s actually a man is that, yeah, that makes sense. There are two reasons for this reaction, first one is,  MC has made small efforts to dispel dysphoria even before he felt comfortable coming out as a trans guy, meaning MC wasn’t ever the most traditionally feminine of women, and the way MC seem very uncomfortable to insane degrees when expected to do things that would  trigger dysphoria for them.  It was always clear that this went beyond MC being a tomboy.

The second reason is, Soryu has never been the biggest fan of women. He’s gotten better than his initial sexism, but due to his childhood experience, women have always made him uncomfortable. He even questioned his sexuality for a while when he was younger, if he was this hateful and uncomfortable with women, it would make sense he probably doesn’t find them sexually attractive. Then he met MC and thought it was a case of just needing to meet the right woman, but it makes sense that well, MC just wasn’t a woman. A part of him wonders if somehow he knew before he realized he knew, if that makes sense.

He’s less skilled at changing pronouns and adapting, he’ll make more than one of two mistakes. But, he’s always quick to apologize, try not to do it again, and the guilt on his face is evident. He’ll be supportive in whatever kind of transitioning MC may want to do. Soryu wants to learn more and be the best partner he can be to MC. The mafia itself has some toxic and gross ideas, the ice dragons themselves accept MC readily. Inui might get a little clumsy but he means well, the first time he accidentally calls MC princess, he freaks out realizing his mistake and some say he’s still apologizing to this very day.

One night before bed, MC catches that Soryu’s usual mystery novel has been replaced with a book about what it’s like to be trans, so he can better understand. MC is beyond moved and gives his boyfriend extra loving that night.

There will be other mafia groups and enemies who will see this as something to take advantage of. They’ll purposely insult or trigger MC, weaponize it against Soryu. But, rest assured, the Ice Dragons will make sure those people regret it.

Baba’s MC has nothing to worry about, ‘cause fuck Baba is just perfect, let’s be honest. Honestly, Baba probably knew to a degree, like he suspected it and was just waiting for MC to tell him. If anyone was paying attention, after a while Baba’s nicknames became more and more gender neutral. MC tells him and he’s accepts easily, MC means everything to him and he’d never throw them away for something like this. Besides, Baba is definitely like pansexual or bisexual, so the gender of his partner has and always be irrelevant to him, all he cares about is the emotional aspect.

He’s loving and supportive through any kind of transitioning, reminds them when they need to take off their binder, takes care of them if hormones ever make them sick, or when/if they have surgery. He’s finding the male equivalent to every feminine nickname he ever gave, he realizes calling MC god instead of goddess sounds vaguely cultish, so if MC wants he’ll turn that into angel, but maybe they’re into the cult thing. He’s more than willing to worship them after all.

Hey, this famous person said something transphobic, now their house has been robbed and all the money has been given to foundations/charities that help trans people. How crazy, how could that have happened!?

Would a hundred percent kiss and smooch all over MC’s top scars if they got surgery, making sure he knows Baba loves his body no matter what.

If they don’t cause dysphoria Baba would 100 percent still want MC to wear those sexy costumes, but if he’s not comfortable, Baba can always wear them.

Honestly, Baba would just have the least issues adapting there’s not a lot to say. The biggest fuck up I could ever see him making is calling MC his pretty lady accidentally and he’d be like “oH FUCk, SoRRY, MY HANDSOME MAN!”, he’d feel bad but honestly him being awkward and struggling is cute and he’d never do it again.

Moral of the story, date Baba. Just do it.

Ota’s first response, “Does this mean we have to get you neutered?”, as assholey as it is it flusters MC and makes them yell at him for the dog shit, changing the serious tone to a light and teasing one. Male, female, non-binary, MC is still his Koro and his bluebird. Additionally, I feel like in the art world and having lived in New York, Ota has met trans people and in general just sees it more as yeah, sometimes people aren’t cis and he doesn’t really see the big deal. The sky is blue and he now has a boyfriend instead of a girlfriend. He might fuck up pronouns a few times, force of habit, but he’ll try not to do it again.  He might tease them a bit, saying how the dog is now training the master,

Once it’s made public, Ota is even more protective about paparazzi around MC. He knows how quickly they’ll flock to harass and bother MC about his transitioning. Ota isn’t going to stand by it, not for a second, reminding them of how if they don’t watch it and treat MC with respect, he’ll stop painting.

Ota paints flowers and designs on MC’s top scars when they’re feeling bad about their body. He’ll also paint portraits of them in general, MC can visit Ota’s studio and see his transition in painting form. Portraits from early on to the current ones, showing every little change MC’s made, like a beautiful documentation of his growth.

Mamoru  it’s gonna be a slower process for him to get it.He ultimately decides, meh, MC is MC, he loves ‘em no matter what. His reaction is pretty calm and borderline a non-reaction.

He’s gonna mess up with pronouns for a while at first, it’s not that he doesn’t care or doesn’t want to make the effort, he’s just a creature of habit and change is a little hard. When he’s corrected, he murmurs “shit sorry” and makes sure not to not slip for as long as he can.

Mamoru gets a little more protective as MC transitions, he’s a cop and he’s seen too many hate crimes not to feel that extra need to keep him safe.

Mamoru finally taps into that money he gets from auctions when MC wants things to transition or surgery. He usually doesn’t bother to touch it, cause he personally doesn’t need for much, but he’d spend it all to make his boyfriend happy and comfortable.

Before MC started transitioning he would casually grab and play with their chest, following surgery when they lounge together he’ll casually run his thumb over his boyfriend’s top scars.

“No matter what, you’re still just a kid.” 

Rhion, bless his heart, doesn’t know what the fuck is going on. He was sheltered to an extent before he became the Hatter. I’m not fully convinced he knows what being trans means. Telling him is a bit like telling a child to an extent, he’s open and accepting but might not realize the full gravity of it.

When MC comes out and explains it, he’s immediately accepting. MC means the absolute world to him, no matter what. MC has always represented to him, someone who would accept him no matter what, he intends to do the same.

He may falter with pronouns a few time, just ‘cause he can be a little absent minded, but he’s quick to correct himself. He may even pout as he apologizes ‘cause he’s mad at himself.

The biggest concern and issue he may have is whether he can continue calling MC Alice. While, as their relationship has grown he’s stepped away from it more and more, it’s become a sort of pet name. Rhion knows Alice is a girl character and he knows he knows being treated at all like a woman makes MC feel bad, (he doesn’t grasp the full gravity of dysphoria but he damn well understands it hurts MC and he doesn’t want his boyfriend to ever be hurt). It would make

Rhion explains that while he knows Alice is a female character and it’s a female coded name, Alice to him has always represented more of a concept. The concept and idea of someone he was always waiting for, someone who’d love him and be with him no matter what, who wouldn’t shun him. To him, it transcends gender, but as much as he’s attached to it, he’ll stop if it hurts MC. ‘Cause at the end of the day they’re more important than a nickname.

Additionally, Rhion is mesmerized by hormone therapy and/or surgery. Like, seeing how much MC’s body changes, he considers it like magic and always have some cheesy pseudo poetic metaphor. It’s so cool and he goes starry eyed over everything.  MC’s voice is getting deeper? What!? That’s amazing, every octave change is like a beautiful melody! MC’s getting more body hair, body changing, it’s a slow beautiful metamorphosis, like watching someone evolve before his very eyes. MC’s gotten surgery, it’s like a butterfly finally emerging from its cocoon, fully shifted and changed for the better.

Luke  is another one with a non-reaction kind of reaction. MC has to wonder if he even heard him or if he was too preoccupied with his medical book. That is until MC comes back from work and Luke pipes up, “so, do you plan on doing hormone therapy? There’s a very good hospital I know of that provides that treatment. Or I can do it, if you’d prefer.”

Luke does what he does best, medical research. He can’t help much on the social and emotional side of things, he fully supports them and loves them, but he’s not always the best person to go to when you’re having a bad day. Like all cis-people he can’t ever fully grasp dysphoria, but he wants to help the best way he knows how.

He’s scattered brain, but he always knows when to remind MC to take off their binder. It’s like his tea time, never forgot tea time or binder removal time.

He’d very much like to be a part of the hormone treatment managing; he’d probably offer to do any kind of surgery MC wants, as creepy as that might sound. The reason for this is A) he trusts himself more than a random doctor and B) it helps make him feel like he’s a part of it and supporting MC. The only problem is, well, if something goes wrong, he’d never forgive himself. Though if another doctor fucked something up, he’d probably kill them, soooo. 

Sexy bones is a gender neutral nickname, so it stays and he’s surprisingly good with not slipping on pronouns. He researches if top surgery or hormones can mess with collarbones, just to give himself some peace of mind. 

Shuichi’s MC would be scared to tell him because A) he’s an ambassador and political figure and B) he’s a catholic.  Religion and Politics don’t always go well with LGBT+ matters.

Shuichi isn’t transphobic or homophobic, but he’s never thought about much in terms of how those matters affect his life. He’s realistic and pragmatic, he knows not everyone is going to accept MC or their relationship. He knows MC being trans could damage his political career, because as much as the world is moving forward this is still taboo to a lot of people. He knows he may not be allowed back at the church he attends.

But MC is more important than any of that.

He’s very careful and conscious of his pronouns, doing everything he can not to misgender MC. If he makes a mistake, he apologizes and learns from it, it’s fundamental. He’ll get books and material to educate himself on what he doesn’t understand. Learning and growing is something he’s always found crucial, this is the time for that.

He’d strive to use his political power and pull in order to make difference, like pulling for laws in order to help and protect transgender people. While, he was always in support of those things it’s closer to his heart now that it impacts MC.

If he has any question of faith with it, he comes to the ultimate conclusion that God made MC who he is, so he must love MC and if anyone says otherwise they can bite him. If the people at the church make MC uncomfortable, they’ll find a new church.

Hikaru (he’s officially the only one I haven’t read yet, so fuck me if this is ooc), he’s a bit confused at first, just as a whole. Gender and sexuality stuff isn’t something he regularly thinks about. He’s kinda like o..kay, that’s a thing now.

In his very tsundere way of expressing love, “boy or girl, you’re still a dummy”

He’ll have a slow switch with pronouns, lots of mistakes early on, he’s fumbling and apologetic, he sounds grumbly and pouting when he does it. But he means well.

If a guest at the hotel says anything to MC, he’s grabbing their arm a bit too tight and he’s doing his work smile but there’s murder in his eyes.

Transphobes get their computers hacked, suck it assholes.

He’s even easy to tease during some of this.

“Hey, Hikaru, are you gonna miss my boobs?” “SHUT UP DUMMY!”

“You wanna say good bye to them?”

And then Hikaru throws a pillow at him, while his face is tomato red.

~Did you like this set of headcanons? Wanna request something similar? Just wanna support me? Consider buying me a Ko-Fi!~

[knottymaverick]

Sylph of Void

Void: This aspect holds domain over all that has yet to be, that which is hidden, and that which remains unknown. From the Nothingness resides all, for the less something is, the more is could be; what lies within the darkness is limited to what we can imagine, but what rests beyond that is everything else. Potentiality. The Unknown.

Spawned by this primordial darkness, every universe and every galaxy; every planet and every star; every animal and every being, each just as unique and insignificant as the rest. Importance is imparted onto the most significant of voices, words and ideas holding not only the greatest but the most deadliest of powers, recording information deemed worthy and casting the rest back into the Void. That which is forgotten and discarded; those whose voices and thoughts are drowned out; those who never leave or are trapped within their own voids, suppressed to publicly silence their individuality, they call this facet Unimportance.

The Void understands your struggles, dear reader. You were created from Nothing and dropped into a world where you truly know nothing, at times not even yourself. However, it loves and accepts you for who and what you are, no matter how you change; your STRONG will to overcome the pressure and assert yourself as an individual, regardless of how your environment appears, is astounding. Everything may be worthless but that doesn't make your experiences any less real, and that's one of the challenges a Hero of Void must face: To use all at their disposal and come to terms with themselves, bringing out that which lies within and utterly annihilating those that prevent them from doing just that. You can be ANYTHING you want, but the most important thing is that what you are is true to yourself.

Sylph: Being the passive-counterpart to the Maid, in my opinion, you are tasked with being one who maintains the livelihood of your aspect. Whereas the active-class wholly creates their aspect where there is generally none of it, a Sylph maintains the preexisting reality of their part of reality. Meddlesome? Not always to the degree many seem to portray them 24/7 but understandably still so! Who else is going to sew the literal fabric of reality as it's separating at its seams? The Maid can't just create more Space and slap some stardust on the ends and hope it sticks onto the old tapestry, a Sylph is required to mend everything in that situation and by gosh will they spruce up that plane of existence all good and well! One of their challenges is to recognize when their help is needed and to what degree, for their aspect is to be healed and then allowed to flourish on its own without any additional interference; they may REALLY want to make sure everything's alright all throughout but must stand to the side and watch the magic happen without being involved.

Sylph of Void: Generally speaking, you are an individual with more hidden knowledge from others than what actually originates from yourself; not to say you don't have a secret or five (5) of your own, but you either go out of your way to learn of what's not known much OR word just happens to come to you in one way or another...or both, who's to say? Depending on which facet(s) of Void you specialize in, some scenarios would be right for one of your skills:

-You may be told of a deep secret from a dear friend of yours, a secret so unspoken that nobody but YOU knows. There's been word of said speaker hiding something, and people seem to flock to you for answers. Most likely, you are to uphold your friend's secret in several ways, such as pleading ignorance as to whatever the hell they're investigating, cast misdirection towards a different topic, or lie about the supposed secret.

If you believe your work is done, then you are sorely mistaken, my fellow Void-player. A Knight of your aspect would, by all accounts, specialize much better in protecting the aforementioned secret. No. As a Sylph, you're not only preventing it from leaking to other unwelcome ears but, depending on said secret information, helping the person face said issue. I warn you to be careful, however, for as heavy their quivering lips were to tell a single soul, their trust in you is as delicate and firm. As much as you may want to take it upon yourself and jump into their shoes to solve their problem, if the speaker feels a crack or more of doubt; fear; etcetera, they may come to avoid you and your help–their sense of clarity will be washed away, afraid of letting anyone else that close again and, instead, withering alone in their own void, unable to overcome their issue without even greater resolve. Help them as best you can, but be aware of their comfort zone.

-You may come to create or learn of a lie and, typically, two outcomes might occur:

You decide to ignore the lie and allow it to go on its own.

You decide to maintain it and take part in keeping it a thing when needbe, either because it is small and generally for goodness sake with no real repercussions, or to prevent something big from going down and can resolve the issue later.

Allow me to give an example in a SBURBan environment {I'm funny I swear--}. Your Seer of Hope is, at the moment, the only key to the success of your SBURB session. Due to shenanigans and whatnot, though, they have lost all hope and their visions cannot show anything useful, dooming everyone to having no solutions. The Sylph of Void and the others, however, create a lie that is convincing enough that the Seer begins to find Hope of success, their visions revealing MANY more ways they can continue onward [based off the lie.] Now all the Sylph has to do is keep the lie going–if the initial lie can eventually be made true behind-the-scenes, even better, though it'd take the other players, most likely, to craft the realness factor of the truth [if the Hope player(s) hasn't/haven't already believed the truth into existence (you know, Hope-nanigans.)]

-Hell, one possible side-quest for your planet could be that a group of consorts are dressed up in unconvincing cosplay of big, scary creatures in order to scare off some Imps that stole some treasure. Your job would be to maintain their disguises by making them seem like actual creatures to ward off the enemies–maybe have dozens of them rush down a hill while a machine cranks monster noises and they all scream Bloody Mary? Maybe use some Voidy-majykks to “maintain their lies” by surrounding them in illusions so they seem like REAL monsters? With the imps gone, the consorts give you some of their supplies that will help you further down the line.

A main-quest could be that your land is LITERALLY. RIDDLED. IN. RIDDLES, set by your denizen of choice. However, the sages don't deem the words anything but boring scribbles and won't do any caring, much to the dismay of the civilians you may have helped on earlier quests [which might help get the sages to care, since more and more of their civilians find it interesting enough.] Your job is to get the sages enthralled in the mystery of their land and have the CONSORTS investigate their own planet, maybe spreading lies here-and-there so the sages journey and expand their territory so the population can spread out. Eventually, the consorts will have one final riddle that was passed down like mythology, and now YOU have to solve it WITH THEM in order to find your denizen and do what you will from there.

I don't really do personality-esque things because every classpect will have people of different qualities but same titles. I haven't done any classpecting in a LONG while, so I hope this works out in some way.

[setaripendragon]

There’s a Miracle Right There

So, this is a very old idea that I decided I ought to just finish and throw out there now that I’m back in the Supernatural fandom. Idk if anyone else will care, but I always wanted to give Layla a happy ending, so, that’s what this is. (Virtual cookies to everyone who remembers who Layla is XD)

‘Ugh, how do I even- Uh, our father who art in heaven? This is so stupid I don’t even believe in God what the hell am I doing? Uh, ok, start again. I guess, this goes to anyone who can hear me? I don’t know if- if anyone’s listening – it’d be kind of creepy if you were, actually, god, these are my thoughts, I don’t want anyone else inside my head, goddamnit, focus – or if you douchebags even care but- Ok. There’s this girl. A nice girl. Layla Rourke. And she’s really kind, and sweet and… you know, just a whole round decent human being, which is pretty fucking rare.

‘Anyway, the thing is, she’s got this brain tumour, and she was going to see this- this faith healer, except he wasn’t, his wife had put a reaper on a leash and she was killing people to, I don’t know, transfer their health to the sick people in her husband’s flock, and- The point here is we had to stop her and now Layla’s going to die, and I- I don’t know, I feel like it’s my responsibility to- to at least try and… Ask for a miracle? Aw, hell, this sounds stupid even inside my own head. If you can hear this you probably already knew she was dying and don’t even give a fuck. Well, you know what, fuck you. Who the hell can sit around watching people suffer and just let it happen?

‘I don’t care if you’ve got reasons, or if you’re just an asshole. That girl deserves better. She deserves to have a life before she dies, alright? So- So if you are out there, then… At least help her. Goddamnit what the fuck am I even doing I give up.’

Gabriel snorted. Being away from heaven had muted the babble of prayers in the back of his head, but not so much that he couldn’t hear them if he focused. And that one had come through loud and clear, for all the lack of faith behind it. Maybe Dean Winchester just got faster broadband, courtesy of being the Righteous Man, maybe it was the conviction of his beliefs, regardless of how much actual faith he had, Gabriel didn’t know.

Plus, Gabriel liked listening to the prayers that weren’t sickly with the simpering faith of idiots who didn’t even understand what they were believing in, or talking to. Or the ones that were bitter with false righteousness and superiority. Those were the worst. But the ones that came form people who were just trying to find answers, those were always interesting.

Not that Gabriel ever did anything about them. He couldn’t risk his cover like that. The other angels would be getting those open-ended prayers much louder and clearer than he was. Not that they would get up off their sanctimonious little asses, either, but they’d certainly notice if someone else did their job for them.

Except… maybe they wouldn’t? Just this once. He was bored, anyway. He spent all his time punishing the wicked, and that was fun, but it was also getting a bit tedious. Samey. Dull. Maybe it would be interesting to shake it up a bit, so he wrapped up the trick he was playing on a bunch of businessmen in Japan, and went to find Layla Rourke.

She really was a good person, he discovered. Her faith made Gabriel feel kind of gross, not just because she had no idea how fucked up God and his angels really were, but because it reminded him of everything he used to be. He wasn’t going to heal her right off, because that would be suspicious to the fucks upstairs, so instead, he insinuated himself into her life by masquerading as one of the homeless that visited the soup kitchen she volunteered at, and he watched her.

He maybe played a few tricks on the assholes who harassed the other homeless while he was waiting, but mostly, he just kept an eye on Layla. He could see her getting closer and closer to death, but even though her body was failing her, her soul stayed bright. Gabriel was a little impressed despite himself. Most people weren’t that at peace with their own death, no matter what they liked to pretend to themselves

A couple of weeks, he figured, was long enough.

“This is the part where I say ‘Be not afraid’, right?” Gabriel asked by way of introduction. They were in a church, because he couldn’t resist a little melodrama, and Layla was sitting in one of the pews, alone, seeking solace. She might have made peace with death, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t hurting.

She startled at the sound of his voice, and looked up from her prayer. “Oh, Gabe, I didn’t hear you come in.” She said, breathless with surprise, and then she actually registered what he’s said, and laughed. “Are you saying you’re an angel?” She asked, teasing and friendly.

“Gabe is short for Gabriel.” Gabriel replied with an easy grin, and then beckoned her up to the front of the church. Layla gave him a puzzled look, but did get up and walk over to him.

“What are you doing here?” She asked, more curious than nervous, when she came within touching distance of him. “I didn’t get the feeling you’re particularly religious.” She added gently, because Gabriel had cringed a little at some of the more faithful things she’d said at the soup kitchen.

“Define religious.” He muttered darkly, and then shook the thought off. “I’m here to heal you.” He told her.

Layla stiffened, all the good humour sliding off her face in an instant. She swallowed and looked away. “Please don’t joke about that.” She chided him, still gentle.

“I’m not.” Gabriel replied, and then shrugged, shoving a hand into his pocket to grab a lollipop. He started unwrapping it. “Been a while since I’ve done this sort of thing. Ran away to join the pagans, oh, some couple thousand years ago. Tried not to go throwing my grace around after that, in case Mikey noticed and came to drag me home by my ear.”

Layla stared at him, blinking rapidly. She opened her mouth as if to speak, but stopped, clearly thinking better of whatever she’d been about to say. “You’re… saying you’re the archangel Gabriel?” She asked eventually, clearly dubious.

“That’s me.” Gabriel confirmed, popping the lolly in his mouth and grinning around it.

“I would have thought an angel wouldn’t look so… human.” Layla replied, a weirdly tentative note of challenge in her voice.

“Well, technically, I don’t.” Gabriel replied, a little muffled around his lolly. “Look human, that is. I’m just… wearing one. If you looked on my true form, your eyeballs would burn clear out of your head and your brains would fry. I’m here to heal you, not harm you.”

“Ah.” Layla said, feigning understanding and doing nothing to hide her bewildered amusement.

“Hey,” Gabriel said, plucking the lollipop from his mouth and gesturing vaguely with it, “what have you got to lose from giving it a go, huh? Either I’m nuts, and nothing will happen, or I’m telling the truth, and you walk out of here cured.”

Layla considered him for a moment, then smiled and nodded. “You have a point.” She acknowledged. “What do I have to do?” She asked.

“Just give me your hand.” Gabriel replied, holding out his own, the one not full of lollipop.

To her credit, now that she’d decided to hell with it, Layla didn’t hesitate. She reached out and put her hand in his as easy as you please. Gabriel stuck his lollipop back in his mouth, and covered her knuckles with his newly freed hand, patting it once, and then twice as he reached out with his grace and swept it through her body, putting everything to rights again.

Layla swayed, gasping softly, and suddenly clinging to his hand bruising-tight. “Oh.” She said, shock and wonder in her tone as she focused on him, and then promptly dropped to her knees. Gabriel blinked at her as she rested her forehead on the back of his hand and whispered, “Thank you.”

“While I’m usually all for having a woman on her knees for me, this is just awkward. Get up, please.” Gabriel pleaded.

Layla looked up at him, gaping in incredulous, scandalised amusement. She did get up, but she was still looking at him with wonder. “I’m pretty sure angels aren’t supposed to say things like that.” She told him, voice trembling with laughter that was only half amusement. The other half was definitely edging towards hysteria.

Gabriel shrugged. “What’s Dad going to do? Smite me?”

Layla shook her head. “I never would have imagined an angel could be so… irreverent.”

Gabriel sighed and stuck his hands back in his pockets. He crunched down on the lolly in his mouth, chewed, swallowed, and then made the stick disappear. “We’re not infallible, Layla.” He told her sadly. “I mean, shit, Lucy proved that. But he wasn’t the only one, you know? Mike’s a control-freak and Raph’s a bigoted douchenozzle, and I’m the irresponsible fuck up. We’re-” He snorted. “We’re a lot more human than anyone likes to acknowledge.”

Layla hummed, thoughtful and understanding, but not actually convinced. “There are worse things to be like than humans” She retorted lightly. Gabriel snorted again, and then burst out laughing.

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.” He agreed. They stayed standing there for a moment in silence, both of them contemplating the other, before Gabriel decided it was time to clear off. He clapped his hands together. “Right, well! I’ve got places to be, people to seduce, heresies to commit.”

Layla laughed again, but then reached out. “Wait!” She called, so Gabriel paused, looking at her expectantly. For a moment, Layla looked helpless, but then she finally managed to ask; “Why me? I- Not that I’m not grateful, but you said you haven’t done this for a while, so I… I just wondered, why now? Why me?”

Gabriel watched her for a long moment, debating. There were a lot of answers he could give. Because he was bored. Because she deserved it. Because he wanted to prove that he could. Because the end was nigh, so what the hell. Because, because, because. “Because Dean Winchester prayed for you.” He said finally.

Layla blinked. Her mouth opened in silent shock. “Dean?” She asked. Gabriel nodded. “Why…?” She trailed off, but Gabriel understood.

He could tell her that Dean was special, that he was The Righteous Man, that he’d been chosen by God to play an important role. He didn’t want to. Because he didn’t do this because of who Dean is to Heaven and the Host, even if that was why he heard Dean’s prayer as clearly as he had. He came because… “Because he said ‘fuck you’ to a heaven that doesn’t care about good people suffering.”

“That sounds like him.” Layla agreed fondly, and for a moment she looked like she might cry, just from the overload of emotion. “Tell him thank you, from me, if you get the chance.”

“Are you kidding? I’m not mentioning this to anyone.” Gabriel replied, scoffing.

“Ah, yes, you’re in hiding.” Layla remembered, shaking her head at him in amusement. “Well, anyway. Thank you, Gabriel.” She said, leaning in to make sure she could meet his gaze when she said it. On impulse, Gabriel leaned forwards and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“Don’t mention it, sweetheart.” He told her, offering her a wink before taking wing.

[yukiwrites]

Nobility of Heart

Thank you so much for your support, @limbosretreat! It’s always so much fun to write Maribelle, so I hope you like this ;D

Summary: Jayson of House Miletos. A family name that gives no pride to Jayson -- far from that, he would rather be recognized as the man he is instead of a so-called ‘noble lineage’. His encounter with Maribelle after he joins the Shepherds will make his whole world change, in this and many other regards.

Commission info HERE and HERE!

The Mila Tree. A millennia old arbor that's seen the largest part of human history in that continent, and yet remained strongly rooted into the ground, offering protection to any and all who would seek it.

Its long-reaching branches and roots could be seen from miles away; a sign of relief to many -- a place of rest and recover. Its ethereal beauty could not be described in words, no matter how much time passed or how many scholars tried to determine it. The very air around the gargantuan tree was filled with ancient magic, the flocks of dust glittering in the sunlight which escaped from in between the leaves themselves felt as though they were filled with the Divine Dragon's blessing.

The pond which Mila Tree dived its roots deeply into never once lost its crystalline nature; never once did it become a swamp much like any other forest immersed in water, never once did the wee traveller hesitate in drinking from even the most shallow parts of it.

Breathing slowly, a young man observed the beauty that had been part of his homeland ages before his own birth -- and for the first time in his life, he appreciated it. He watched how his newest companions erected the camp over the thickets roots, some even frolicking in the water, splashing its crystals around each other.

"Takes a war and losing everything to realize that there'll always be beauty in the world, huh?" The man whispered to no one in particular, surprised that even though he had always considered himself and other people as equals, he had never truly paid attention to the vastness of the land they lived in.

He looked down at his own hands, somehow feeling empowered by the eerie yet comfortable presence that hugged all who walked into its domain with soft winds and cool shades. Once again he looked up to his fellow Shepherds, their work of harmony the true reason Jayson felt at home with them.

Sure, there were ranks within the Shepherds, but even these felt like a grey area, considering how every single person did all they could to help within the army, no matter how menial the task or how high up in the noble ladder someone was.

There were humans working alongside dragonkin and shapeshifters -- all were treated equally. All were the same in the eyes of their leaders, and that was how Jayson believed the world should be.

His chest warm, as though finally filled with purpose after losing his homeland to Walhart, the mage fighter got up on his feet with conviction. He had joined the Shepherds after they had freed him from Walhart's clutches -- he had been another victim of the Conqueror's bloody conquest, having to serve under him to survive -- but it wasn't until that moment that Jayson had felt like he would be able to truly belong amongst their ranks.

No one there was looking at him and seeing a royal bloodline bound to command a kingdom swallowed in war. They only saw the man, Jayson, and not his House, Miletos.

Speaking frankly, the man, the mage fighter, the seasoned warrior: that man was much more interesting, strong and convenient to have around than the lost house which he was the sole survivor of. He had no need for 'blue' blood if it only meant to make him superior to other people.

People were all equal.

Jayson patted the dirt out of his pants, resolute into going down the large root he had climbed so as to help his fellow Shepherds to raise their camp. Sure, they would stay only a short time at the Mila Tree -- enough to restock some of their supplies and send their farewells to the ones who would remain in Valm to aid in its reconstruction after the defeat of Walhart -- but that would be a crucial time for him to get to know the people he had pledged his loyalty to.

"Ah, Lord Jayson! Just the man I was looking for," a velvety voice called him the moment his feet touched the wet ground, making him look up in its direction immediately.

A blonde woman of pale yet silky skin trotted towards him, her large curls bouncing around her face and behind her back. He didn't need to guess that she was one of those people who called themselves 'noble'  -- she did look the part quite well, down to her impeccable posture and lifted chin.

He had little patience for such people, but he HAD had just convinced himself to get along with everyone, so he put on his best smile to greet the approaching woman.

"Hi there. Maribelle, was it?" He made sure not to address to her title, though she seemed unbothered by it. "Did you need something?"

"Why, thank you for asking, milord," she curtsied once she reached his side. "I come bearing greetings from House Themis to your noble, nay, royal House of Miletos. It is such a relief to find yet another peer of noble bearing amongst the rabble! I am looking forward to the both of us getting along." She blinked slowly -- a sign of respect, Jayson imagined -- a polite yet graceful smile rising across her cheeks.

Rosy, well taken-care of cheeks, might Jayson add.

She was the finest example of a beautiful woman. Although she exuded nobility, she seemed unconcerned about her no doubt expensive pair of boots being ruined by the wet and dirty ground -- her clothes seemed like they were tailor made to last in the harsh environment of war, though they looked no less fine than her silky and carefully-curled hair.

Her attitude towards the 'lowborn', however? Not to Jayson's liking.

"I look forward getting along with you too, but as a fellow Shepherd." He said curtly, wanting to put things straight immediately. It is not like he would dislike her on principle -- on the contrary, he was very open to making new friends -- but he had to draw the line from the start so people wouldn't treat him differently because of his title. "I don't care about this 'noble breeding' nor about the lineage this blood of mine carries. So if you still want us to get along, then by all means, let's."

With but a single twitch of her eyebrow, Maribelle lifted her chin. "Why, but what a foolish thing to say, my lord. Without us of noble blood, the world would collapse!"

Jayson narrowed his eyes. "Is it foolishness to consider all humans- nay, all men and women as equals, Maribelle? I don't need a noble title to pick me apart from the others when all of us were born under the same sky and will die beneath the same earth."

"Humph, noble, but empty words!" She lifted her parasol, poking it on Jayson's shoulder.

"Empty?! You would call being equal as being 'empty'?!" He huffed, trying and failing to not feel increasingly upset by their conversation. He wasn't a man to snap so easily, but Maribelle was not being helpful with her choice of words.

"Has living as a lowborn affect your hearing as well, Lord Jayson?" She  tilted her index to the sides, as though signaling 'no'. "I said that your words are empty, my lord. Who but a noble with a rank so high as yours can actually turn the law into seeing all under equal eyes? Who but someone born with a blood of carefully bred leaders can lead the masses to a more just future? You took the name of your family, saw only what your childish eyes wanted to see and threw it away without so much of a thought about your long history of leadership and guidance!"

"I'm- I didn't-" Jayson tried to talk back, but couldn't find an actual reason to -- Maribelle's speech was indeed sound.

Maribelle smiled triumphantly as she noticed the change in his behavior, never stopping her preach. "It is a noble sentiment to wish that all were equal -- one that I share as well, bear it no doubt. But to sever the breeding that would only serve in your purpose of reaching equality is no better than throwing away your people's lives. Instead of having a studied ruler who is in touch with his family's past ways of leading, they are left to scramble to their feet on their own."

Jayson's shoulder sagged, the winds taken from his sails. Had he been running away from his lineage instead of taking it upon himself to bear its weight and lead his people towards his vision of how the world should be?

Maribelle's words rang true, and cut deep into his heart. From his flabbergasted expression, she could see that she might have overstepped her boundaries and took a deep breath.

"All men, women and shapeshifters should be equal under the eyes of the law, Lord Jayson. The people are sheep and you were born a shepherd to lead them towards that path -- do not shirk away from your bloodline under the delusions of simply being part of the masses. There will always be inequality as long as those with the power to change that do not act against it."

"I..." the mage fighter stuttered, then took a deep breath, "I think that was the longest and truest scolding I've taken, I must confess." He chuckled without mirth, stealing a careful narrowing of eyes from Maribelle.

"My Lord, I am simply asking-" She started, waving her parasol in his direction, but he lifted his hand, silently asking her to stop talking.

"No, I fear I must be the one doing the asking here." He breathed out, shaking his head, trying to dispel the rush of thoughts flooding it. Never had he ever entertained the thought of looking back to his own history; to embracing it and using it to climb up above other people.

But that wasn't what this was about, was it? No, it was about taking the opportunity that was laid right in front of him -- one that would actually help him change the world, or at least his own country, into what he thought was for the best.

It wasn't about being above other people, or looking at them with superiority or even having people be bellow yourself.

It was about using whatever weapons you had at your disposal to do what was right -- to do what you believed in.

Ignoring his own lineage to mingle with other people because he wanted the world to be as he imagined it, without doing anything apart from saying that he was just like everyone else was hypocritical to say the least.

And it took a pompous noble lady to basically rip his eyes open so he could see it for himself.

Said lady waited patiently as he put his thoughts in order, though he could see by her demeanor that she started to feel guilty about her harsh words. Perhaps that was an often occurrence in her life -- to say the unfiltered truth and regret hurting someone's feelings.

"I think I owe you my thanks first, Maribelle." He said, then quickly went on before she opened her mouth to reply. "Please let me continue -- also don't call me 'milord' again, okay? Although your words ring true, I don't think I can get used to it quite yet."

Having opened her mouth previously to speak, Maribelle promptly closed it, then went back to her flawless waiting pose. "... Very well."

Jayson snorted, "thanks. Though I can imagine that you're not often thanked for delivering your harsh tongue on people, are you?"

Maribelle's cheeks went aflush, its pink going well with the one she wore on her clothes. "Why, do put this in a better way, sir! I do not 'deliver my tongue' to other people so much as I tell them the truth. In my own way."

"Riight," Jayson laughed, somewhat freed from something he never even thought he had been held back by. This new acceptance of his lineage would take him places he still wasn't familiar with, but perhaps his new lady friend could help him with that. "There's something else I wanted to say, though. Ask, actually."

Maribelle recomposed herself, carefully holding her parasol with both hands. "I am always happy to be of aid, dear Jayson. To peers and commoners alike, of course!"

"That there," he pointed to her nose, "this attitude, poise and knowledge -- I fear I have none of it, even back in the days when my family was alive and making me study the stuff. I'm barely connected with the history of my lineage or how to 'act' noble at all." He said, bobbing his head to the sides. Maribelle took one hand to her chest in grievance for his lost family, though did not interrupt him in his speech. "Honestly, I still don't really care much about 'setting myself apart from the rabble', but I do realize, from your words, that I should at least embrace the useful part of my lineage."

"Why, Jayson-" She took a deep breath, ready for yet another speech.

"Wait, wait, I'm still not done-" He lifted both hands in defeat, making the noblewoman deflate and place both hands akimbo. "I wanted to ask if you could help me in this newly found endeavor of sorts -- it takes a noble house to know another, right? I suppose that’s how it goes?"

He watched as her expression changed from mild annoyance from being interrupted to delight. "Why, my dear, of course I would be utterly pleased to help you connect with your noble side!" She gave him a short bow, almost a curtsy. "And you shall know once and for all the importance of setting yourself apart from the common folk, especially during diplomatic talks with other houses!"

Seeing a true smile on Maribelle's face, not once born out of courtesy or politeness made Jayson's heart flutter, stealing a smile from his own lips. "I dunno if I'm looking forward that part of the lessons, but I'm actually excited to spend more time with you, Maribelle. Uh, by learning things, of course."

"Naturally, dear." She concurred slowly, then took two steps to place herself beside him. "Shall we go? We must entertain these lessons daily -- common noble knowledge for starters since we are situated miles from the nearest library to search into your family's customs."

Confused, Jayson raised one eyebrow. "Uh, why are you standing beside me like you're waiting for something?"

Maribelle sighed, and even that sounded graceful. "Your arm, darling! You won't leave a lady to walk on her own in this uneven terrain, will you? Lesson number one!"

"Hah!" He snickered, quickly offering his arm to her, enjoying how her soft touch wrapped itself around him. "Lead the way, Maribelle -- or should I say, my lady?"

"Barely have we started and I am already proud of my student! You show promise, Jayson, and you shall be a polished nobleman by the time we finish!"

Smiling, the mage fighter enjoying looking at the lady from that angle, then quickly looked ahead so as not to trip. Getting acquainted with his family's ways so as to spread them into the future generation -- his own and his people's -- was his objective.

But he wouldn't complain about the pleasant company, of course.

Since their time in Valm was limited, -- the Shepherds were marching to the harbor so as to return to Ylisse and search for the last Gemstone for the Fire Emblem -- Jayson and Maribelle spent most of their time together; be it running to a nearby city in search of history books or by staying inside the barracks during rainy days under the guise of Jayson's nobleman training.

Jayson couldn't help but notice the way she would sometimes sigh whenever exhaustion caught up to her, though her demeanor would never change -- something about never letting other people know of a noble's suffering, as she had told him. He couldn't stop himself from looking at how she would wipe sleep out of her eyes as they read under a dimly lit light.

Or the way she would proudly repeat something regarding his family she herself had overheard at the Ylissean court. Good things of course.

If there was one thing Jayson learned about Maribelle was how she would never talk behind someone's back -- or spread any stories at all, be them gibberish or the harsh truth. She felt very strongly about giving someone the piece of her mind herself rather than believe or strengthen any rumors -- be the source of them a reliable one or not.

She was one who would speak for the truth, always. So much that she brought it upon herself to gather as much knowledge as she could during the war so as to apply for the Ministry of Law, aiming for the highest position. All so she could help the people -- low and highborn alike -- to be seen equally under the eyes of the law. No more unjust trials for the peasant; no more indulgences for the nobility for simply being such.

"So that was why you felt so strongly about what I said the day we met," he commented during a particularly slow afternoon, their noses buried deep in history tomes.

"But of course, darling. Shying away from your duties as a noble is turning your back at the very core of what being a nobleman is. If you are born with such power, you use it in your subjects' favor, not against them." She said without looking up, then tapped at an almost faded part of the book she tried to decipher. "There are yet more mentions of your holdings originating from a large trading post. It seems safer to assume that you come from a family with a long history of merchants, darling."

"I suppose I do, yeah."

"Which is quite desirable, especially if we take into account the amount of treaties, contracts and accords your House must have with its neighboring allies. Perhaps we should return to your land once we avert this terrible future Her Grace Lucina speaks of and search through your family's archives. If they are still there, of course." She closed the book with a thump, the dust it scattered making her adorably sneeze. "You did say your manor was left intact by Walhart and his minions -- a surprising feat, honestly, considering the boorish ways that that man practiced."

Jayson offered his handkerchief before Maribelle could reach for hers, receiving a genuine 'thank you' before he absent-mindedly replied, "yeah... perhaps we should."

"Darling, are you alright? Perhaps we should call it a day? I must confess the words have started to look like stains of paint." She reached out to give his handkerchief back, but his hand lingered in hers.

She could feel his thumb caressing her hand, ever so softly -- so slowly she could count the amount of time it took for her heartbeat to pick up and for her cheeks to redden. "Jayson?"

"Oh, I'm sorry." He let go of her hand altogether, a hint of red running across his caramel colored skin. "I was just wondering how soft your hands are like under your gloves. Will you let me hold them?"

Immediately did the noblewoman turn bright red. "W-why, that was a bold statement, Jayson! I-," she cleared her throat, "I cannot say we live in such retrograde times that touching the bare skin of my hand is an egregious act, b-but- eek! Y-your hand-" she yelped the moment his touch found her cheeks, his smile widening the moment he felt how hot they were.

"Ah, so it really is as soft as it looks. You really take good care of your skin." He retracted his hand, enjoying how terribly embarrassed she looked.

He wanted to see more of it.

He wanted to see it all. All of Maribelle's expressions -- from embarrassment to fulfillment; from anger to softness; from loss of words to pleasure.

Spending time with her had made Jayson the happiest he had ever been, to the point that he couldn't even remember how he'd spent his days up to the day they first met. They were still on their way to Ylisse -- having a moment's rest at the feroxi castle before they could set out in search of the last Gemstone -- months after their very first lesson under the Mila Tree.

Yet, those short months were the happiest and most fulfilled Jayson had ever been. To dare touch her like that, his mind wandering into the future, made him want to do it more.

To feel her skin, to feel the softness of her lips. To hold her hand and intertwine their fingers -- to brush his hands through her hair in the morning, before she would curl it up.

To see her in a light no one but her promised one could.

Up until that point, he hadn't made much physical contact with her apart from the days she would offer dance lessons -- he would linger his hand on her waist a moment, a second more. He would pull her closer and enjoy the huff of her breath before she would scold him for using too much force.

He would always want to linger more in her presence -- in her softness.

"T-This is unbecoming of an unmarried lady, Jayson! Either state your business quickly or s-stop holding my hand so... vicariously!" She snapped him out of his thoughts as he absent-mindedly caressed the space between her fingers, tickling and embarrassing her at the same time.

He slowly got up from his seat, pulling her hand towards his lips. He pressed them on it softly, slowly pulling her glove away so he could taste her actual skin.

Too shocked to react, Maribelle gasped loudly, on the way to pulling her hand away from him.

"Do you want to go back with me after this is over, Maribelle? Not only to search for my family's history, but to be PART of it?" His voice was hoarse and his eyes were so serious they took her breath away.

"J-Jayson, are you-" She found enough of her voice to speak, although barely.

"I am. Though I regret to say I don't have a family heirloom to present to you as a promise of my feelings, but I can assure you that they are real -- I love you, Maribelle. Would you make me the happiest man alive and accept me as your husband?"

His warm hands held her naked one, making her heart beat faster than she ever thought possible. "Why, Jayson I-" she stuttered, searching for her breath. "I thought you would never ask." She smiled, her shoulders sagging. She noticed how his did, as well, making her smile widen. "I would very much like to be your wife, my dear Jayson."

The mage fighter laughed loudly, quickly circling the table to he could take his now betrothed in his arms. "You've made me the happiest man alive with only these words, Maribelle!"

"Oh, I know how you can make me the happiest woman, right now, Jayson." She giggled in his arms, looking up at him from her short height, her face dyed in a bright red.

Carefully did Jayson trail his fingers from her arms to her cheeks, holding her face as though she could break from the lightest of touches. "Ah, then we're on the same page," he said as he lowered himself to her, their breaths intertwining before the impending kiss.

The very first of many, Jayson imagined, hopeful, as he slowly brought Maribelle closer. The first of many.