#and there is the element here with them too where they are liars and they are playacting. that's part of what makes the story so complex...

[turtlespancake]

me when i write a character who is prone to dooming themself and then they run off and doom themself. core traits are stubbornness and a willingness to disregard their own humanity gET BACK HERE IM NOT DONE WITH YOU

[minakoaiinos]

Animating this season like you can't have the slightest bit of jest and god forbid jesting about yaoi

[theotherbuckley]

a thousand ways to call you mine BONUS CHAPTER

bucktommy | Chapter 3/3 | 1.6K/14.2K | Rated E

For @bucktommypositivityweek nicknames and terms of endearment 💜

Pet names +1 +1 husbands (read on ao3)

Wrapped up in the love of his life’s arms is exactly where Tommy wants to be forever.

He didn’t really think this would ever be a real possibility for him.

Tommy had grown up with a dad who made it clear that he wouldn’t tolerate anything less than a perfectly masculine, woman-loving man. And so that’s what he became.

He pushed down any other feelings he had, squashed them deep down into the depths of his mind until he was sure they couldn't escape.

Every time he’d find a guy attractive, he’d tell himself it was their feminine features that drew him in. It didn’t matter that half the time, they were massive, built like a Greek god, men. He didn’t let himself think about it any more than that. Maybe he was just jealous of them. He repeated that like an oath.

He joined the army because his dad wanted him to — and Tommy wanted nothing more than to make him proud. He did well in the army, he followed orders like a good little soldier. He learnt to fly helicopters, something that would become a place of solace.

He always felt in control as a pilot. The one place where he could be himself without any expectation. Where it wasn’t others' rules that dictated his actions. Just him, in the air, a place where he could breathe.

When he became a firefighter, he found a crew that felt so much like his family at home. He understood how to behave there, he didn’t mess up like he had done so many times with his dad. He knew the unwritten rules. He played his part no matter how many times that little voice inside him told him he was a liar, a hypocrite.

It wasn’t until he was back in his element, flying aircrafts with people who respected each other, that he finally managed to unlearn every piece of hatred that had been engrained so deeply inside of him since he was old enough to understand what it meant.

And then he met Evan. Evan wasn’t his first boyfriend, but that didn’t matter. He was everything in the end.

Evan introduced himself, stumbling over his own name in a way that Tommy found far too cute for the impending emergency they had at hand. He didn’t dwell on it at the time, but he was comfortable enough with himself to be able to look and appreciate the man without hating the thoughts that swirled around his mind like he once had.

What he saw was a gorgeous man who said the most outlandish but well-meant things. Someone who loved so strongly. Someone brave and kind, who blushed so brightly at any compliment. 

He never anticipated that after that, he would end up here — holding that beautiful man in his arms, able to call him his. 

Evan fits in his arms like he was made for them. Okay, maybe it takes a lot of shuffling around for a massive firefighter and pilot to sit comfortably together. It didn’t matter, though, it always felt so right. 

They’re sitting in a hotel bed, lazily drawing lines on each other’s skin with their fingers, smiling up at each other every time the light catches on the silver bands adorned on their ring fingers.

“I love you,” Evan whispers, as though speaking any louder would break the precious bubble they’ve created for themselves.

“I love you, too, husband,” Tommy replies, shooting Evan his signature smile, his eyes scrunching up in the corners. Evan raises his hand to Tommy’s face, fingers trailing the soft lines etched there.

continue reading or read on ao3

“I love you,” Evan says again, he can’t seem to stop saying it, hasn’t been able to stop since the ceremony. Tommy isn’t complaining. He feels it, too. He feels the way his heart wants to burst from his chest because of the magnitude of love contained inside. The way he needs to repeat his love for his husband over and over again just to keep his heart in check.

Tommy presses a gentle kiss to Evan’s curls, a move that always has Evan melting into his hold. “I love you, too,” he says back, just because he can.

“I never imagined having a husband,” Evan says, staring at the ring on his finger like it contains all the secrets in the world. 

“Neither did I,” Tommy admits. “But I’m so happy I got to have one. Got to have you.”

Evan shuffles even closer to his body if that’s even possible with the way they’re pressed up against each other, but he tries anyway — tries to merge their atoms together until there’s no telling where one ends and the other begins. 

He kisses right above Tommy’s peck before staring back up at him, smiling lazily, a faint blush dusting his cheeks.

Tommy doesn’t think he’ll ever get over this look. His husband’s curls, free and slightly dishevelled, perfect for running his fingers through. He’ll never get over his husband’s rosy red cheeks and bright eyes filled with awe and love. The blooming love bites adorning his smooth skin, evidence of their well-spent honeymoon. The silver ring, engraved on the inside with a simple yours because that’s what they are — inexplicably each others. Each others to love and to cherish. For as long as they each shall live.

“What are you thinking about?” Evan asks, his fingers running down the groves of his chest.

“You,” Tommy says. Always you.

Evan shoots him his award-winning smile, the one that makes his eyes shine. Love so clearly evident within the blue pools of his irises.

“Yeah?” Evan asks.

“Yeah, baby. Just thinking how lucky I am to call you mine.”

“Mmm, yours,” Evan agrees, rolling himself fully onto Tommy's body as he kisses down his neck. Sucking every inch of skin available like he’s starved for it. 

Tommy lets him take his fill, wrapping his arms around Evan’s back and holding him close so that not even an inch separates them. Tommy’s hips jerk when his husband bites at the sensitive region behind his ear. The movement makes Evan laugh. The soft chuckle filling the air with warmth and love. Tommy loves that sound. He wishes he could bottle it up and store it for later to listen to whenever he needs it.

He doesn’t have to, though, because Evan’s not going anywhere.

“Come here,” Tommy says as if they’re not practically glued together already. Evan, always on the same wavelength, understands him anyway.

He lifts his head from the groove of his neck to hover in front of his face.

Their lips move to each other like magnets until they meet in a kiss. Tommy opens his mouth, lets Buck’s tongue explore inside like he hasn’t already spent many months mapping it out. 

Tommy grips Buck’s hips tighter, pulling him flush against himself until their groins meet, electricity rushing through his gut. Tommy swallows down the moan Evan lets out at the action, smiling into the kiss as he rolls them over until his husband is lying on his back.

Evan pulls back, panting, squirming on the bed as he seeks the delicious friction. Tommy gives him what he needs, rutting leisurely against him until they’re both groaning into each other's mouths. 

They’re barely kissing anymore, but neither is complaining, content to trade breaths like they need it to live. Tommy thinks that maybe he does.

Tommy licks his palm, too lazy to reach for the lube sitting on the bedside table. He reaches down to grasp both of them in his hands, jerking them slowly, like they have all the time in the world. They do, of course. Right now, there’s nobody but them; they’re just two men trying their damnedest to become one.

Evan whimpers when Tommy’s thumb brushes over his slit, collecting the precome gathered there, his hips bucking further into Tommy’s large hands.

It doesn’t take long for the both of them to get close. Tommy speeds up his movements, erratically jerking them to the finish line. Evan lifts his legs to wrap around Tommy’s back, desperately trying to press himself even closer. His fingers dig into Tommy’s back, no doubt leaving indents in the skin. Tommy’s not one to complain, he wants the world to know that he’s taken, married to someone he never dared to dream he could have.

“I love you, husband,” Tommy breathes between open-mouthed kisses.

“I love you, husband,” Evan repeats, like a prayer. 

That's all either needs to send them over the edge, come shooting onto their stomachs, marking each other as their own. Evan goes boneless, dropping his arms and melting into the mattress. Tommy feels much the same, dropping onto Evan’s chest, their come sticky between them, but neither cares too much at that moment.

Evan lets out an “oomph” as Tommy rests his weight on him, but he doesn’t tell him to move, craving the feel of his partner in every way he can have him. They stay like that for a while, neither in a rush to move. 

“What was the point of me coming up with pet names when husband was a possibility all along?” Evan says after a moment.

Tommy can’t contain his laughter, tucking his head into his husband’s neck as he shakes with the force of his laugh. 

“I don’t know, husband,” Tommy says with a wink. “But it was a lot of fun.”

“Mmm, it really was, husband.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

the girl next door 18

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, manipulation, chronic illness, noncon/dubcon, coercion, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: A new neighbour moves in and upends your already disarrayed life.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself.

This lewk but silverfox

“You know, sweetie, I was thinking,” Steve stacks the plates and gathers the utensils, “if you’re going to take those pills, I don’t think you should be alone.” 

You blink and sit up, rubbing your neck. You’re not a good liar. You weren’t planning on taking them. You were just going to go home and lay down but he keeps bringing it up. Maybe he’s suspicious. 

“Oh, I think I’ll be okay--” 

“Look, honey, your mom’s already in the hospital. I’d hate to see you in there with her. For my peace of mind, will you stay? Just for the night. That way we can head out bright and early to get mom,” he suggests. 

“Well...” you trail off, staring at the wall. 

He’s being pushy but for good reason. He’s looking out for you. You’re the one going against doctor’s orders and why? Because it’s embarrassing to think it’s that bad. Depressed? No, just pathetic. 

“Here, you can borrow some of my clothes,” his voice muffles as he goes into the kitchen and the plates clink in the sink. He reappears and grabs the boxes from the table, wiggling free on and peeling the flap open, “take a shower and relax. You need a good night’s sleep.” 

He pulls out the insert then reaches for the doctor’s note. He pops out a tablet and holds it out to you, “says you might get lightheaded. Let me know if you need anything, okay?” 

“I... It’s okay. I’ll go home to...” you bat your lashes at him and give up. He’s just as hard to argue with as your mother, although in a much different way. Your mom is stubborn and mean, but he’s concerned and you’re the one being obstinate. “Okay.” 

You take the pill and stare at it. It’s so small. You probably won’t feel a thing. You shrug and grab your glass of water and swig it down, tossing the tablet in your mouth before you swallow. You gulp thickly and set down the glass. 

“Right, let me get you something to sleep in. And a towel,” he says as he claps his hands. 

You nod and stay at the table as he strides off. You look down at your lap, thumbs twiddling around each other. As nice as he is, you’re starting to feel like just another burden. 

Before you can sink too far into self-pity, you make yourself get up. You take your glass and carry it into the kitchen. You flip on the faucet and dump what’s left of the water. You rinse out the glass and place it in the rack of the dishwasher. You do the plates next, then the cutlery. As you close the door and it clicks, you’re startled by the shadow to your left. 

Where the counter extends, Steve stands on the other side. You blanch and fold your hands over your chest. You show your teeth sheepishly. 

“You didn’t have to do all that,” he smiles. “You’re a guest.” 

“I... I wanted to help,” you say, “um, but... I don’t know how to turn it on.” 

“Leave that to me. I put the stuff in the bathroom for you. If you feel like it, you can have a bath. Help chase away the stressful day,” he offers. 

“Shower’s fine,” you drop your arms and raises your shoulders, trying to make yourself smaller, “thanks.” 

“No problem, sweetie,” he comes around the counter as you go to move in the opposite direction. You nearly collide and press yourself against the drawers as he grazes past you with and apology, “just... gonna finish up.” 

He presses a button on the dishwasher door and you flit away. His cologne clings in your nostrils as his warmth lingers around you. Too close. 

You go upstairs and shut yourself in the bathroom. It’s a little bit of solace. It’s not much but it’s space for yourself. You see the towel hung from the rack and the clothes folded on the counter. The tee shirt is grayish blue and the shorts are drawstring and stretchy.  

You twist and turn the faucet, water running into the sharp-cornered tub but you can’t figure out how to get the showerhead going. You turn the water off then on. Off and on. What the heck? 

“You okay in there, sweetie?” Steve calls through the door as friction rubs against the outside. 

“Um, yeah,” you shut off the tub and back up. You go to the door and flick the lock back, opening it just a little. “How... I can’t get the shower...” your words jumble up with your embarrassment. How stupid. You can’t even figure that out. 

“No problem,” he steps in and you back up. 

He goes to the tub and flips on the water, pulling out the lever until the water flows from above. You could smack yourself. Instead ,you thank him and hug yourself. He turns and winks at you, “all good. Anything else?” 

“No, I’m fine,” you assure him. 

He nods and marches back to the door, turning to tap on the edge of the door, “alright, sweetie.” 

He shuts the door and you go to lock it behind him. You retreat and slowly undress. The clothes you’ve been wearing since the night before are slightly musty with sweat and the stench of the hospital.

You step under the showerhead and let the temperature seep in. You lean your head back as it splashes down your chest. You stand with your eyes closed, your mind slowing and your eyelids scratchy. You feel your muscles slacken and sway just a little. 

Oof. You open your eyes and steady yourself. You look around and find a bottle of woodsy-scented soap. It’ll have to do. You won’t use too much, either. 

The steam forms a cloud around you. The humidity clogs in your nose and chest and swirls in your head. You’re dizzy as you slap a hand on the tile and turn off the faucet. 

You stagger out. The heat of the water fogs the mirror, further setting you off kilter. You pull on the shirt and shorts then collect your own clothes. You leave the towel on the rod and lean into the door as you unlock it. 

You trip out into the hall and wander along, for a moment, forgetting where you are. You enter the bedroom with the purple bedspread and dump the armful on the dresser. You stumble and sit on the edge of the bed. You slump onto your shoulder and your head lolls. You think the medicine is kicking in. 

You close your eyes and descend into the grey. It’s as if you’re floating on water, swaying and rolling with the tides. Not quite awake and not quite asleep. You hear yourself droning nonsensically. Snort and jerk but can’t break free of the heaviness. The world is moving around you but your eyelids won’t peel back. 

Your head pulses as you sink further and further down. Your subconscious is so deep it’s suffocating. The dim darkens to an endless void through which you hurtle down towards no bottom. The blackness unfurls before you, swallowing you up. 

You wake to the ceiling above you. There’s warmth against your side and a gentle breath brushing over your cheek. You groan and look over as the slumbering form next to you. You nearly scream at the sight of Steve but you don’t have the strength to do more than babble. 

Your arms shake as you sit up, your muscles sore and strained. You hold your head as you try to think straight. You shut your eyes again and urge yourself to wake up. It’s a nightmare. Some twisted dream. 

Your lashes flick up and you tilt your head to follow the yellow light seeping in between the curtains. It’s morning already. Your vision turns vivid and you’re certain you’re truly awake. But how did you end up here? 

“Sweetie,” Steve rasps groggily as he rolls onto his back, “you okay?” 

“Steve,” you look down at the tee shirt, drooping down one shoulder, “how... why am I in here?” 

“Hmm,” he rubs his forehead and opens his eyes, “you don’t remember?” 

“Remember?” 

“You came in here, saying you couldn’t sleep,” he lifts himself up, his chest bare as the blanket falls away, “you wouldn’t go back to bed so... I just let you stay. You seemed pretty out of it.” 

“I... I did?” You gurgle. 

“Must be the pills,” he rubs your back, “we can talk to the nurse again. Sweetie, are you okay?” 

You don’t understand. Why would you come in here? How can you not remember? 

“Nothing... happened?” 

He laughs, “sweetie, what would happen?” 

He stares at you and you grimace, shaking your head, “nothing. Nothing, I just... can’t remember.” 

“Hm,” he hums and his hand slides lower, stopping just above your bum before brushing back up, “just sleeping. That’s it.” 

[lady-merian]

@emeraldchase okay, here goes!

I’ve seen a lot of jokes about how the best the Ring can do to tempt Sam is a garden. I’ve laughed at them too, but there’s an element to some of the jokes that dismisses the importance of the scene in my opinion. 

The Ring offers power according not only to a person’s desires, but to their abilities. We can infer from what the Ring offers Sam that Sam would desire to do good with it, (arguably, overthrowing Barad-dur and turning the wasteland of Mordor into a garden is a good desire,) but that doesn’t mean it’s not a dangerous power fantasy in its own way. The desire to remake the world in one’s own image and enforce it by any means necessary is something not even our dear Sam is immune to. He’s not imagining a world where nothing threatens peace, he’s imagining being the threat that enforces the peace. If it takes a flaming sword to bring his order into the world then it takes a flaming sword. The Ring tries to convince him it would give him the power to do so. 

The Ring is, of course, a liar, and it’s a credit to Sam that he realized that after rejecting what the Ring was offering him, but it’s also a credit to Sam that he rejected it in the first place. This is his equivalent to Galadriel’s test. Unlike Galadriel, however, he’s in possession of the Ring at the time the temptation comes upon him and I think that’s saying something. 

Curiously, his reward when he returns to the Shire gives him the wholesome version of these desires, not to mention many more blessings besides.

The one small garden of a free gardener was all his need and due, not a garden swollen to a realm; his own hands to use, not the hands of others to command.

Though Sam as the mayor isn’t a position of great power equal to the great kingdoms of Middle-earth by any stretch, it’s a responsibility. (What that looks like is better seen in the unpublished epilogue to the story, in my opinion.) A responsibility he’s proven himself capable of handling. Likewise with a garden swollen to a realm. The part of the Shire that most benefited from his use of Galadriel’s gift was Hobbiton, it’s true, but he did travel the four farthings of the Shire to mend what harms he could. 

I’m not suggesting that Sam could have become this tyrannical ruler, because Sam hasn’t trained his will to the domination of others and also does not have the innate power that Gandalf and Galadriel both have. (Not to mention Sam is correct that Sauron would have seen him if he’d put the Ring on in Mordor: Frodo put on the Ring at Mount Doom and Sauron was instantly aware.) There are few enough who would survive a direct contest with Sauron in a situation like that, so I’m not putting Sam down either by saying that Sam putting on the Ring would have doomed Middle-earth. 

What I’m saying is that just because the vision was of a garden doesn’t mean it wouldn’t have been detrimental to Sam’s character if he’d accepted the vision. Gandalf was wary of even handling it. Sam meanwhile goes to the ends of the earth as far as his people are concerned, right alongside the Ringbearer, and remains mainly concerned for the welfare of Frodo. The thought of what he might do with the Ring hasn’t crossed his mind until that moment. When measured up against his devotion to his master and also his plain hobbit-sense, the Ring can’t compete.

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

When The World Is Crashing Down [Chapter 8: I Just Need A Stronger Dose]

Series summary: Your family is House Celtigar, one of Rhaenyra’s wealthiest allies. In the aftermath of Rook’s Rest, Aemond unknowingly conscripts you to save his brother’s life. Now you are in the liar of the enemy, but your loyalties are quickly shifting…

Chapter warnings: Language, warfare, violence, serious injury, alcoholism/addiction, sexual content (18+), angsttttttttttt!

Both the series and chapter titles are lyrics from: “7 Minutes In Heaven” by Fall Out Boy.

Word count: 5.9k.

Link to chapter list: HERE.

Taglist (more in comments): @tinykryptonitewerewolf @lauraneedstochill @not-a-glad-gladiator @daenysx @babyblue711 @arcielee @at-a-rax-ia @bhanclegane @jvpit3rs @padfooteyes @marvelescvpe @travelingmypassion @darkenchantress @yeahright0h @poohxlove @trifoliumviridi @bloodyflowerrr @fan-goddess @devynsficrecs @flowerpotmage @thelittleswanao3 @seabasscevans @hiraethrhapsody @libroparaiso @echos-muses @st-eve-barnes @chattylurker @lm-txles @vagharnaur @moonlightfoxx @storiumemporium @insabecs @heliosscribbles @beautifulsweetschaos @namelesslosers @partnerincrime0 @burningcoffeetimetravel-fics @yawneneytiri @marbles-posts @imsolence @maidmerrymint @backyardfolklore @nimaharchive @anxiousdaemon @under-the-aspen-tree @amiraisgoingthruit @dd122004dd @randomdragonfires @jetblack4real @joliettes

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged! 🥰💜

“What’s it about?” Aegon purrs in your ear, his ivory-and-red scarred arms circling around your waist, his fingers lacing over the lowest part of your belly, kindling heat and hunger that he draws out of your bones like water from a well, his ring of gold wings and jade eyes glinting in the sunlight that pours in through the library windows.

Smiling, you turn a page in the archaic, dusty book that’s cradled in your arms. It’s not on a subject you’ve ever seen before; of course it would only be here, where the Targaryens once worshiped their own gods and practiced rituals of fire and blood, that the occult would not be torn up and discarded like weeds. “Witchcraft.”

“Witchcraft?!” Aegon feigns being scandalized as he kisses your neck, soft lips and seeking hands. He’s been out in the courtyard sparring with a guard; he smells like salt and wine and rose oil and the ocean. “I do hope you don’t turn out to be an unrepentant sinner. I’d hate to have to burn you.”

“We’d match then.” You turn another page, sketches of different types of sage, dark forbidden recipes that promise to hurt or heal or protect. “I can’t say I am persuaded by the more mystical elements. But there are some interesting insights into herbology, I think.”

“You don’t believe in magic?” Aegon muses, pulling up the skirts of your pale, ashy blue gown, his palms on your bare thighs. His lips curl mischieviously against your throat. “You reside on an island of dragons, in an oppressively gloomy castle built by spellcasters, and you don’t believe in magic?”

“You have it, perhaps,” you say. “Your family. Your house. I don’t believe in it as something that is real to the rest of us.”

“Don’t the Celtigars claim to possess a trumpet that summons a sea monster or something?”

“A horn,” you say, amused. “To wake krakens. And yet as much as my father enjoys boasting about it, he’s in no hurry to prove its efficacy, is he?”

Aegon turns your face to his and kisses you with a fierce, greedy hunger. “You’re magic,” he says as his hands move to loosen the laces of your gown. “You heal people. You bring them back from the dead.”

You’ve forgotten the book entirely. It tumbles out of your grasp. As Aegon tugs off your gown and it falls with a rustle to the stone floor, you reach back to touch him: white-blond hair, scarred cheek, his voice and his heat and his flesh that you need more of. Sunlight and late-summer air, a weakening red-tinged gold, hit your bare skin. Aegon is undressing himself too, and now his shirt and trousers are gone, and now he is leaving euphoric indigo shadows on your neck and shoulders, ghosts of pleasure that will haunt you long after this moment has passed, and now as he stands behind you his fingers find the warm, yearning wetness between your legs and stroke you there, parting folds, plunging between them, retreating just as you feel yourself climbing towards a peak, beginning the divine cycle over again.

“Yes,” you beg, hushed and hidden between the shelves of this ancient library, taboo texts and stories no one else remembers. You push your hips back against Aegon and he inhales sharply, reaching out with one hand to steady himself against the bookshelf as the other teases you, readies you, drives you mad with red ravenous lust. You can feel that he is hard. You can feel your fingers buried in his hair, the rough scar tissue of his chest against your spine, your bodies moving with an easy, harmless rhythm. “Please, Aegon, please, I need you…”

“Do you believe in magic now, wife?” he murmurs, a grin in his voice; and the shock of it drags you into a climax, a whirlpool, a storm, a fever that singes and scalds. He has never called you this before. His wife, his queen.

You cry out as the pleasure pulses through you, as your muscles unravel and your skull is cleared of the knowledge of all the ways in which the world is so irretrievably wrong, as you drink up every drop of Aegon with your eyes, lungs, spiraled fingerprints, the pores of your skin.

“Well, do you?” he asks again. He kisses you forcefully, possessively, biting at your lower lip. “Have I convinced you? Do you believe in magic now?”

And you smile dazedly as you answer: “I believe in you.”

“That will suffice, I suppose.”

He follows you down to the floor. You roll onto your back, pull him between your open thighs, cradle his face with your hands and kiss him deeply as he enters you, fills you, moves blissfully inside you. Long-dormant dust swirls into the air; specks of it float in aisles of sunlight like ships bobbing in the open ocean. The stone floor is cold and unforgiving, Aegon warm and kind. You arch into him, your hips rolling in time with his, your tongue tasting wine on his lips and salt on his flushed cheeks.

“You feel fucking incredible,” Aegon gasps. His braid is tucked behind his ear; you moved it there, or he did, it doesn’t matter, it belongs to both of you. Each time he thrusts, there is an indistinct sort of pleasure—low, muted somehow, like rocks covered by the sea at high tide—that builds, yes, but agonizingly slowly. You know he wants to make you come again. He’s trying to last, he’s battling against himself; but his face is already blood-red and his hands are trembling. He never discusses the pain with you, but it’s still there. He goes to the maesters when he has sunburn to be soothed or wounds to be cleaned and bandaged, he goes to Lord Larys Strong with his fears. He does not want you to think he is weak. He does not want to disappoint you.

You whisper through his mess of silver hair: “It’s alright, Aegon.”

He shakes his head and closes his eyes, tiny oceans erased. “No, no, oh fuck, I’m so sorry—”

“I want it,” you insist. Your hips rock more quickly, taking the blame away from him, easing his burdens. “I want you to come, I want you to finish inside me, please, please, I want to feel you dripping out of me tomorrow, I want to remember this, I want you, I want you, I want you—”

Aegon moans, shudders, pours himself into you, a rush of energy and heat, a closeness you never believed was possible for two people to share. His unsteady hands constrict into fists against the stone floor. His teeth close around your collarbone, more violet blooms like the colors of a garden, more tokens of him that you carry around like gemstones. The waves wash over him, and then they recede; the tension evaporates from every scrap of him and Aegon collapses onto the floor beside you.

Skating his thumb along the line of your jaw, marveling at you in the dreamlike haze of the afterglow, he says softly: “We have to talk, Angel.”

Fear settles in the cage of your ribs, a cold heavy thing like the iron dragons that preside over the dark corridors of the castle, ominous leers and bared fangs. “What is it?”

“I don’t know what to do with you.” His words are serene, his murky-blue eyes drowsy; his scarred chest rises and falls with slowing breaths. “When I leave to rejoin the war effort, I don’t know where you should go. I don’t know if you should stay here. I don’t know if I should have Larys try to take you to Storm’s End, or maybe Tarth or Estermont. I don’t know if you should return Claw Isle and wait out the bloodshed with your mother and sisters. I don’t know anything. And I can’t choose wrong. I can’t lose you. I can’t be responsible for your ruin.”

“I think I should stay on Dragonstone,” you say. “As long as you and Aemond are in the Riverlands, you would be able to fly back to see me.” And I might be able to help if Aegon is injured again.

He smirks, sadly, regretfully. “That would be my preference as well. But I fear it’s unwise. What if Daemon or Rhaenyra decide to come back to the island? They’re both far too preoccupied at the moment—Daemon fucking Nettles at Harrenhal, Rhaenyra stomping out rebellions in King’s Landing—but circumstances could change. Even if the Blacks believe you to be my unwilling captive, I don’t trust Daemon to treat you with decency. I don’t trust Rhaenyra’s paranoia to spare you.”

“I want to stay here. It’s our home now. It’s where I belong.” And you nestle into him, tangle up in him, will him to help win the war and then return to you.

Aegon chuckles, kissing your forehead. “Can you believe I was worried about whether this would work?” This: love as something physical, not just words or allegiances, not just something that changes how you see the world like peering through mist or smoke. “You had such a fear of it. Such adamant dread.”

“I feel safe with you.”

“Because I am a sad, weak, floppy little man?”

“No,” you say, smiling. “Because you’re a good man. Even if no one else has ever seen it. I see it all. I see you.”

There is the echoing noise of a door opening, then slow, laborious footsteps. “Your Grace?” Larys says reticently from the other side of the bookshelf.

“Stop,” Aegon orders. “Wait.” He grabs your gown off the floor and helps you into it, then yanks on his own shirt and trousers. “Approach,” he tells his Master of Whisperers.

Larys appears, resting his interwoven hands on the handle of his cane. He bows, tactfully averting his gaze from your wrinkled dress, untidy hair, glistening sheen of shared sweat.

Aegon says: “Your timing is impeccable as always, Lord Larys.”

“My sincerest apologies, Your Grace. You have a guest and I did not want him to…catch you unawares.”

“Ah. And of course I have no idea who that could be.”

The library door opens again; you hear its archaic iron hinges creak. Swift light footsteps cross the room. Aemond breezes into the aisle between bookshelves and stands there, tall and willowy and watchful and with his long hair plaited into a thick silver braid. His clear blue eye shifts between Aegon and you, stoic, betraying nothing. Of course Aegon does not know about Aemond’s proposition. You would never tell him as long as the war wages on. It would be a distraction, a danger, an unnecessary wedge to drive between two people who desperately need each other.

“Back already?” Aegon says. “I’m sure the people of the Riverlands miss you dearly. They’re probably waiting outside with their livestock all in a row just waiting for you to soar by and cook their supper for them.”

Aemond ignores this. He stares at you, then looks back to his brother. “I’m starving from the journey.”

“How fortuitous, we’re famished as well.”

Larys notes helpfully: “The cooks have prepared soft-shelled crabs, seasoned, battered, and fried in oil. They’re ready now.”

“They’ve prepared what?” Aemond asks, nauseated.

“You’ll like the crabs,” Aegon says, and as he walks past Aemond he thumps him roughly on the shoulder. “You’ll see how much I enjoy them and you’ll suddenly want every last one.”

~~~~~~~~~~

In the courtyard, under the next day’s late-afternoon sun, Aegon is sparring with a strapping knight supplied by House Chyttering, one of the noble families you inspired Larys to bring surreptitiously into the Greens’ service. When the king practices like this, his opponents go easy on him. They assail him with halfhearted swings of their blades and feeble shield arms. The goal is not to turn Aegon into a robust warrior; he would need years for that, and he will not go into battle on his feet anyway. He just needs to be strong enough to ride a dragon.

Near where you stand, Lord Larys and Aemond are deep in conversation. Aemond is saying: “It is my understanding that she and Daemon are operating almost entirely independently at this point. Is that consistent with what you’ve heard?”

Larys nods. “When Hugh Hammer and Ulf the White betrayed her side, Rhaenyra lost faith in all the Dragonseeds. She ordered the arrest of Addam Velaryon, but Corlys warned the boy before he could be imprisoned and he escaped on Seasmoke. For protecting his bastard son’s life, Rhaenyra had Corlys thrown in the dungeons. A curious lack of empathy from someone who has so recently lost three sons of her own. The Velaryon fleet has abandoned her. Rhaenyra has offered a substantial reward to anyone who brings Nettles to her, dead or alive, as the girl has been sentenced to death for treason.”

“Treason?” Aemond echoes doubtfully.

“Seducing the so-called queen’s husband.”

“Right,” Aemond says, thoughtful. In the center of the courtyard, Aegon is beating back the Chyttering lad with clumsy (yet determined) strikes of his sword. “What will Daemon do now, I wonder. Has he tired of the girl yet? She is a nobody, unlearned and of ignoble birth. Surely she cannot hold his interest for long, even if she is a dragonrider.”

“Time will reveal all, my prince,” Larys replies. “Perhaps Daemon will abandon Nettles. Perhaps he will defend her against Rhaenyra’s wrath. Perhaps he will send her away to safety.”

This heartens Aemond; it brightens his face like cool ethereal moonlight. “If she leaves, Sheepstealer will no longer be a threat to us. I can meet Daemon in battle. And in a fair fight, Vhagar will annihilate Caraxes.”

“I urge you to proceed cautiously,” Larys says. “You are the Greens’ greatest military asset, you are the prince regent, we need your leadership. If anything was to happen to you…” The Master of Whisperers trails off.

Aemond acts as if he hasn’t heard him. Instead, he unsheathes his sword and announces: “I think my brother needs more of a challenge. Allow me to assess the status of his recovery.” Then he takes a step towards the king.

Your hand juts out and closes around Aemond’s wrist. He blinks down at it, stunned that you have voluntarily touched him, perhaps. It is not an affectionate gesture, but it is a familiar one. You command Aemond, your voice low: “Don’t hurt him.”

“I never do,” Aemond replies, bewildered. Then he goes to meet Aegon in the center of the courtyard. The Chyttering knight retreats as Aemond approaches, twirling his sword effortlessly.

Aegon takes a defensive stance, both hands clutching the hilt of his own weapon. He’s grinning, but you don’t think he’s taking this seriously. He already knows he’s lost. “No great contest. I just have to aim for your left side.”

“Good thing I’ve never trained with my maiming in mind.” Aemond lunges and you yelp, started and fearful; he moves staggeringly quickly, his blade cutting through the air to clang against Aegon’s once, twice, and then the king is knocked to the ground with the point of Aemond’s sword at his throat.

“I yield,” Aegon says from where he’s sprawled on the gravel. “You win. You are superior. You could still easily murder me if you chose to.”

“As long as you are aware of it.” Then Aemond takes his brother’s hand and pulls him to his feet, helping to brush pebbles from Aegon’s light armor.

“I should order you executed,” Aegon jests. “You’ve humiliated me in front of my wife.”

“I’m sure she was already well acquainted with your myriad of failings.”

“They are rather evident,” Aegon admits.

“Hm,” Aemond says to himself. Then he stalks back inside the castle with his silver hair flowing out behind him: to consult books, to plan battles, to console himself with wine, to put on Aegon’s crown and admire himself in a mirror, to brood as he glares at the walls, you aren’t sure.

Aegon slides his sword back into its scabbard and joins you by Lord Larys. When he speaks, his words are smug and anxious and eager and heartbroken. “I think I’m ready to go, Angel.”

“Tomorrow? When Aemond leaves?”

“Tomorrow,” Aegon agrees. He smiles, off-balanced and sad-eyed, as he takes your hands in his. Half of his hair is pulled back from his face, but as always, he is still wearing his tiny braid; right now it is stained with dark gravel dust like soot, like ash. You can feel the chill of his gold dragon ring under your fingertips. “I have to help them win this war, Aemond, Criston, Daeron, Mother. I have to try to stop the end of the world.”

You mean to say something—I understand, I’m proud of you, I love you now and I’ll love you forever—but your voice breaks and you have nothing to offer him.

“I know,” Aegon says gently, cleaning a tear from your cheek with his thumbprint. “Come and walk with me. There’s one last thing I have to make sure I can do.”

On the long stone staircase that leads from the main castle entrance down to the beach, Sunfyre the Golden is waiting for his rider. He makes those alien sounds that unnerve you—clicks, growls, squeals, whistles—but Aegon seems to comprehend them. He rests a palm on his dragon’s gleaming face, just between his reptilian, liquid-metal eyes. Rain is rolling in off the ocean; the sky is thick with dark, low clouds. Cold wind claws at your hair and unfurls in your lungs, proof of the rapidly approaching end of summer. Winter Is Coming, you think, words that you have grown to hate.

“Would you like to go too?” Aegon asks as he prepares to climb up into the dragon’s saddle; and to your surprise, he is only half-joking. “I know Sunfyre won’t hurt you now. He understands what you mean to me.”

“I personally abhor dragons.” And all the destruction that only they can curse the earth with.

Sunfyre snorts; steam rises from his nostrils and he stretches out his wings, pale pink membranes that match your gown. Aegon laughs. “You will have to learn to appreciate them. Your house is the same as mine now. And we owe everything to these beasts.”

“Perhaps I’ll accompany you next time.” But no, you will never ride a dragon; you know that absolutely, unquestioningly.

“I’ll be back in time for supper,” Aegon says. “And then I intend to keep you awake all night with—”

He cuts off like a severed limb. There is a scream in the sky, not of a man but of a dragon: too shrill to be Vhagar, too unfamiliar to be Tessarion, tinny but fierce, hostile, growing louder. The creature zooms by with blinding speed, a blur of pale pearlescent green, the fastest dragon you’ve ever witnessed, small but lethal.

Moondancer. That has to be Baela and Moondancer.

A column of fire bursts from Moondancer’s gaping jaws as she hurtles past Sunfyre, but just a sliver of an instant too late, narrowly missing him; still, the inferno is close enough that you can feel the apocalyptic heat, can see the air wrinkle and warp like the fabric of existence wearing thin. High above the ocean—her shadow like a bruise on slate-colored waves—Moondancer banks and begins to turn back towards where you stand.

“Get inside the castle!” Aegon is roaring at you. You are too terrified to move. “Go, go!”

“Aegon, you can’t fight them alone—!”

“Go!” He gives you a hard, frantic shove. “You get inside the castle and you stay there!” Then as you sprint up the staircase towards the entranceway, he clambers into Sunfyre’s saddle and takes off into the churning, thunderous sky.

You can hear them overhead: shrieking dragons, human shouts, flames crackling and billowing, wings flapping like the sails of a ship. You stagger into Dragonstone screaming for Aemond. Larys rushes to you, the guards materialize like vultures around a corpse, but none of them can help Aegon. Only Aemond can. Only he and Vhagar.

You tear through the castle. You are banging on doors with your open palms, racing up steps, calling for Aemond until your throat is raw and you can taste the coppery sting of blood. Aemond comes running and grips your shoulders to steady you. He is panicked, he is petrified. “What, what is it—?!”

“Baela, Moondancer!”

Aemond understands immediately. He bolts for the castle entranceway, you following close behind him. He does not tell you to remain within the towering, mist-sopped walls of Dragonstone. Perhaps it does not occur to him; perhaps he knows you would not listen.

“Your Grace!” Larys is imploring you. Not my lady, not Lady Celtigar. Your Grace, because Aegon believes I am his queen. “Your Grace, please, I beg you, stay here where it is safe!”

When you and Aemond cross through the doorway and out into the windswept, iron-grey air, you look up to see it just as it happens. Sunfyre and Moondancer are gnarled together like a sailor’s knot, hissing and snapping, drawing blood from each other, clawing and clinging with suicidal rage. Now their wings are little more than shredded ribbons of thin membranous flesh. Now the dragons are plummeting towards the beach. And Aegon is falling, falling, falling from an impossible height, his hands reaching to grab for a rope that doesn’t exist, his legs kicking as if through water. He is crashing to the earth like a bird shot through with an arrow, like an angel whose wings have been sheared off, ripped out by the root, burned away.

You are shrieking his name, but you know this is useless, that you are useless, that nothing you’ve ever learned or practiced can stop this. You and Aemond are racing down to the beach, clutching each other’s arms on the staircase so neither of you trip and stumble off of it. You are dimly aware that there are guards and maesters behind you, and Lord Larys too, and that they are speaking in frenzied phrases that you cannot understand. You and Aemond are united in that. You are both beyond words.

Aegon is on the sand. He isn’t dead; he isn’t even unconscious. He is screaming like he was on the day you met him, when half his skin had been scorched by Meleys’ flames, when he was near death and you were the only reason he lived. Now he is not burned; but his legs are destroyed. They are not just broken. They are shattered, grotesque bulges everywhere, moon-white bone splitting through the skin in two places on his left leg and three on his right. His trousers hang in bloody tatters. Someone is wailing, someone sounds like they have lost their mind. Someone is raking their fingernails against your face until your cheeks are bleeding. Oh, it’s you, it’s you, but you don’t feel real, and neither does this moment, and neither does the knowledge that Aegon will not leave tomorrow to help win the war, may never walk again, may not be alive by midnight. You have dragged men back from the brink of death, countless men, and you have done so with almost supernatural composure; but this is no anonymous doomed soldier. This is Aegon, and he is ruined.

Down at the other end of the beach, Sunfyre is tearing out Moondancer’s throat with his teeth, loosing a vicious subterranean snarl. From the surf, a seemingly uninjured Baela emerges, coughing seawater from her lungs and reeling on her hands and knees. Larys is instructing someone to take her to the castle dungeons. The maesters and guards are swarming around their fallen king and trying to decide how to move him without damaging his legs further. Aegon, meanwhile, is reaching for his brother.

“Aemond—”

“I’m here. I’m right here.” Aemond drops to his knees and tenderly sweeps Aegon’s shaggy silver hair out of his eyes. “We’re going to get you inside and the maesters will set your legs. You’re going to be alright. We’re going to help you.”

Aegon howls, tears flooding down his face. He snaps at Aemond as he grabs his hand and squeezes it: “When the fuck is it going to be your turn to get hurt?!”

“It will happen eventually, I’m sure,” Aemond replies grimly. Then he glances up at you. You have to free yourself from this shock, this horror. You have to help Aegon.

You kneel down in wet, bloodied sand and begin to examine him. In a trembling voice, you tell Larys and the maesters and the guards how he must be carried—feet-first when going up the staircase, lessening the strain of gravity on his legs—and that the wounds must be painstakingly cleaned before the fractures are set to prevent infection. You try to say more, but you can’t. Your gaze lands on Aegon’s agonized face and is trapped there, a mutual recognition of the death of one future and the bleak, torturous nightfall of another.

Why couldn’t I stop this? I love him, I love him, why can’t I stop him from suffering?

Aegon looks to Aemond and says something in High Valyrian, something halting and with immense effort. Whatever Aegon asks for, Aemond is momentarily taken aback by it. Then he nods, understanding. And when the guards lift Aegon—Larys and the maesters supervising, the king shrieking until the pain knocks him unconscious—Aemond links his arms around you and stops you from following them up the jagged stone staircase.

“No! Let me go, let me go!” You fight him, and you don’t just fight, you screech and claw and strike at him, you scratch at his face until you rip his eyepatch away and Aemond’s glittering sapphire shines in the fading light. Raindrops are beginning to fall. You’re crying; tears fill your eyes until your sight is hopelessly obscured, until the world is nothing but a grey like smoke, ashes, storms.

Aemond is murmuring to you patiently: “Shh. Stop, stop. Please don’t fight me. He doesn’t want you to see him like this.”

“Aemond, let me go!”

“He doesn’t want you to think of him as someone helpless, someone weak—”

“You did this!” you scream into Aemond as he entombs you in his arms, unbreakable like steel. Your fists drum futilely against his chest. “You started this war, you murdered Luke, you started it and it’s going to kill Aegon, you did this, you did this, it’s going to kill him and it’s all your fucking fault!”

“I know,” Aemond whispers, lips to your ear, his heartbeat thudding against yours. “I know. I know. I’m sorry.”

“It’s going to kill him,” you moan, sobs ripping through you; and at some point you stop fighting Aemond and begin holding onto him, not because what you’ve said isn’t true but because he understands, and because he’s the only person you have left who can.

I want Autumn, you think powerlessly, miserably. And I want her child to have another chance at life. I want Everett. I want Alicent and Jaehaera. I want Helaena and Maelor and Jaehaerys and Otto. I want wisdom, guidance, innocence, hope. I want the future and I want the past.

“I can end this war,” Aemond swears to you as the full moon rises and the waves crash against the shore. “I can make things right again. I can end it. I can win.”

~~~~~~~~~~

It is hours later when Aemond allows you into the room, illuminated by flickering candles and ghostly moonlight. Aegon lies unconscious in the same bed where he made love to you for the first time, where he might never again, where he showed you that there is something besides fear and pain and surrender to be found in marriage.

His legs have been set as well as they can be, bandaged, elevated. You would have done nothing differently if it had been you to tend him in place of the maesters: Jasper from House Hardy, Lothair of House Stokeworth, men you have taught everything you know to just as they shared their expertise with you. Aegon has been given as much milk of the poppy as his body can endure without his heartbeat slowing until it stops. You sit on the edge of the bed and untie his braid, weave a new one, undo it again, knit and unknit glistening silver strands like the strings of a spider’s web. You can’t imagine what will happen next. You don’t want to.

When Aegon stirs, you clasp his hand, letting him know that you’re here. His dragon ring is missing, you notice; no gold wings, no jade eyes. It must have slipped off when he tumbled from the sky. And you remember what Aegon told you about his dreams of Helaena, about the warning she imparted to him, her ghost or her memory or something else wearing her face: Don’t fall, don’t fall.

“I’m sorry, Angel.” His voice is hoarse and whisper-thin. He’s trying to smile but can’t quite manage it. “I wanted to be strong enough. I wanted to start over with you.”

Start over how, Aegon? In peacetime? As a dynasty? With retribution or forgiveness? With children? “You will. You still can.”

“I knew I’d disappoint you.”

“Aegon, I’m not disappointed,” you say, tears streaming down your cheeks. “I just want to help you. I want to take care of you. I love you.”

But he blacks out again before he can give you his familiar refrain, something in High Valyrian that he doesn’t know Aemond has provided you with the translation of. To your misfortune. And is Aegon wrong when he says this? Is he really?

You drift into a fitful sleep beside Aegon, wake up only a few hours later with sore, damp eyes, make sure he’s still breathing. It’s raining heavily now; sheets of it patter against the windows and thunder quakes the castle. You rise from the bed and walk without knowing where you’re going. When you find yourself sitting on a stone bench in the gardens, drenched with rain and freckled with fiery torchlight from the mouth of an iron dragon, you don’t remember how you got there. You are cold and shivering; you are so profoundly, numbly despondent that you cannot move, cannot think, can only sit with your arms curled around your bent knees and your eyes vacant.

By the time Aemond finds you, your dusky pink gown—stained with splotches of Aegon’s blood—is soaked through. Aemond lurks just inside the doorway of the castle that opens into the gardens, sheltered from the storm. “Why are you sitting in the rain?”

You do not answer. You cannot answer. You stare blankly out into the night as droplets pelt you, stinging your skin like needles.

“You should come inside,” Aemond tells you. “You’ll get pneumonia.”

Nothing he says matters. Will going inside cure Aegon? Will catching pneumonia rob you of any life worth living?

Aemond sighs and strides out into the rain to meet you. “I have to go back to the Riverlands now. Will you be alright here?”

Your words are a question, but your tone isn’t. You speak bitterly and without looking at him. “Why would you care.”

“I care intensely,” Aemond says, kindly now. “If you don’t know why, you haven’t been listening.”

“You don’t want me. You just want to feel like you’re better than him. That you’re worthy of being chosen, worthy of fathering the heir.”

He shrugs. “Nothing in life is without ambition. Love is never entirely selfless.”

“Mine is.”

“No,” Aemond says severely. “No, you want things for yourself. You want a choice in who you marry. You want to escape the burden of bedding someone dull or repugnant or cruel. What makes you think you’re so high above the fate that the rest of us have suffered? Do you have any idea how desperately few people get to marry for love? But you can’t endure that resignation. You have to covet something more. Even if it gets you killed.”

Have suffered, Aemond said. Not will suffer. Have suffered. At last, you turn to him. “You’ve never had a wife. When were you ever forced to lie with someone?”

He stares at you and does not answer, cold rain dripping from his face, a vulnerable childlike apprehension in his lone blue eye.

Then you remember: the madam at the brothel, Aemond’s aversion to her unmistakable familiarity. What had he said when he apologized for leaving you there? It is a place that I associate with great unpleasantness. “At the brothel,” you realize. “The Pink Pearl.”

“Yes,” Aemond says, very quietly.

“How old were you?”

“Barely thirteen.”

He was a boy, you think, horrified. Not a man. Just a boy. “Who took you there?”

“Who do you think?”

There is only one true possibility. Aegon, just a few years older and already corrupted in every sense of the word, drunk and miserable and lustful and lost.

“He thought he was doing me a kindness,” Aemond says. “He didn’t intend for there to be any harm, I’m sure of it. But that doesn’t mean no harm occurred.”

“That should never have happened to you. I’m sorry.”

“A lot of things should never have happened.” Aemond’s hair hangs in long, disheveled waves. Now his clothes are sodden with rain too, not a pale pink like exposed organs or half-healed burns but a verdant, jealous green. “I can’t leave until you come inside out of the rain.”

It doesn’t matter where I am. I can’t save anyone, I can’t stop the world from crashing down. “If he’s dead I want to be too.”

“He’s not dying,” Aemond insists. “He won’t be able to fight, but he will live.”

He won’t, you think, lifeless words that are cold and grey like tombstones. The suffering is too great. The trauma is too dire. It stacks up like blood-red coins in his liver, his heart, his lungs, his kidneys. And eventually the scales will tip, and it will kill him, and I’ll have to watch it happen.

Aemond offers you his hand. “Let me walk you back inside.”

“Please leave me.”

“I can’t,” Aemond replies, distressed.

You are weeping now; your own words choke you. “I want to stay here.”

“No you don’t. The pain just feels so heavy you can’t find your way out from under it.”

He is still holding out a hand to you. At last, you take it. And you make a confession, dark, venomous, unfamiliar like the voice of a stranger. “I used to believe war was hell for everyone. I used to want the suffering to end. But I don’t think I do anymore. I think I want the Blacks to suffer greatly. I want them to suffer more than they ever knew was possible.”

And in the maelstrom of the driving rain, Aemond grins until his teeth look like fangs in the shifting, rageful, rust-and-blood glow of the firelight.

[aloneinthehellfire]

Chapter Eight: Stealing Hearts, Broken Souls

The Pariahs That Saved The World

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: mentions of death, father issues (like, severe), horror elements, blood, angst central.

[A/N: Good news!! I have returned with a new chapter!! Bad news... you're not gonna like it...]

Stealing Hearts, Broken Souls

“Which one is it?!”

“Do we know if she likes Kate Bush?!”

“Guys, she’s getting worse!”

A cacophony of panic flooded the Winnebago, rushed footsteps and heavy breathing echoing through Robin’s mind as she stands with her hands on your shoulders, tears streaming down her face. She convinced herself holding onto you would stop you floating to the ceiling. She didn’t want to be stood here long enough to find out.

“I’m telling you, her favourite songs won’t be here!” Eddie practically screams at them. They all stop their chaotic rampage of the stolen vehicle, snapping their heads to him.

“Check her bag.” Robin’s hoarse voice cut through the silence, eyes unwavering from where yours were screwed shut, shifting left to right beneath your eyelids.

Steve is the one to swipe your bag tucked into the corner of the table seat, rooting through it with such haste, items clattered to the floor without care. His eyes light up in surprise when he pulls out a familiar object. You had your own Walkman.

“Fuck me, that’s lucky.” Dustin breathes out, and Steve frowns at it. Luck. Yeah, right.

He checks the tape deck, scribbled lettering of ‘stand by me’ on the white space and he runs back over to Robin, carefully slipping the headphones over your ears and pressing play.

A faint melody is muffled against your ears as they all stand there, waiting. Steve’s hand finds its way onto Robin’s shoulder, observing that concerning look on her face. He had expected her usual look of horror, an unfortunate expression Steve has seen too many times. This one was different, however.

This one was guilt.

July 3rd, 1985: The Hospital Incident

The white flickering lights were alighting every nerve, stuttering beams raising three individual heart rates into panic and anxiety.

It was no mystery why you were acting this way when even your surroundings eluded paranoia.

“I shouldn’t be here.” You keep muttering, biting your lip. “I should find her. I- I haven’t heard from her in days.”

Nancy and Jonathan were leading you through the hospital, dragging you along their latest quest. You supposed it wasn’t their fault; you had told them you were willing to help. But you haven’t seen Heather, or even heard from her. That was all you could think about.

“I went to the pool and they said she hasn’t shown up in a while.” You continue, scrunching the ends of your cardigan into your fists. “That’s bad, right? Maybe I should check her house. I’m sorry, I can’t- I need to-”

“We don’t have time right now.” Nancy insisted, but you weren’t really listening, turning back with only the thought of your girlfriend. Their little journalist project would have to wait.

“I’ll be back to help once I-”

“She’s not there.” Jonathan says and the mood shifted. You turn to look at him, his wide eyes implying a guilty nature. Nancy was frozen to the spot, eyebrows furrowed.

“How do you know that?” You ask, walking back to them. “Did you go to her house? Why… why were you there?”

“I was investigating Holloway.” Nancy says hurriedly, “I- We wanted to see where he was.”

You could tell when Nancy Wheeler was lying. She always forced eye contact, her face unusually stoic as to hide the truth. Maybe would find Nancy’s technique in deceit flawless and somewhat inspiring. You always thought she was a terrible liar.

“Her dad is missing too?” You frown, looking between them with nothing but suspicion. They were keeping something from you. “Well now I’m definitely going back.”

You turn around again and Nancy leaps forward.

“Wait!”

“No, Nance.” You snap, talking over your shoulder. “Something is seriously wrong and I can’t do anything until I know she’s safe. Her dad is missing, her mom probably is too, and I haven’t seen her in days, what if-”

“She’s gone!”

Nancy suddenly says and you stop, meeting Jonathan’s startled eyes.

“...What?”

“I-” Nancy can’t bear to look at you, sharing a guilty look with her boyfriend. “I’m sorry, Y/n.”

“What does that mean?” You shake your head, stepping away from them. But you had already been through the scenario in your mind. And, even worse, you expected this ending. You just couldn’t force yourself to believe it. “Why were you at her house? Why? Nancy!”

“Y/n…” Her forlorn expression spoke louder than any of her mistrusted words could.

“I told you, guys.” You say, blinking against foggy vision as tears started spilling down your cheeks. “I told you something was wrong, and you said I was being paranoid. That I was getting emotional.”

“We didn’t-” Nancy shakes her head, biting her lip. Whatever she had to say, it was useless.

“I can’t believe you.” You place your hand over your mouth, muffling your sobs.

“We could be wrong.” Jonathan interjects, moving closer to you. You take a step back, ignoring the hurt on his face. You and Jonathan may have been friends since you were kids, but that gave him no right to lie to you.

“Look, Y/n, we just need to figure out what’s happening.” Nancy nods almost pleadingly, holding out her hands in surrender. “If we do, we can help Heather. I’m sure- we just need to talk to Mrs Driscoll-”

“I don’t care about Mrs Driscoll!” You almost scream at her. Your unusually steady hands wipe away the tears on your cheeks, taking a deep breath. “Go ahead, Nancy. Finish your article. That’s all you seem to care about anyway.”

“That’s not fair.” She says, but Jonathan places a hand on her shoulder, shaking his head.

“I can’t be here.” You finally whisper. The words felt like a scream, however, as you turn away and start marching back down the hall.

Any sadness you had was shifting into anger. It coursed through you like it powered your every nerve, balling your hands into fists, eyes red and hot withstanding the tears you could no longer pity yourself with.

The last time you saw Heather, she had asked you to meet her after work. Three days ago, you were saying ‘see you later’ as she drove herself away from your house and to the community pool, dressed in a swimsuit and shorts that would always earn her a light-hearted tease about a jazzercise cosplay. Three days ago, you left a voicemail with her manager, cancelling your plans.

You had bumped into Jonathan at the Post, one of the only days your shift schedules aligned in the week. He told you about Nancy’s new journalist endeavour, his scepticism. You admired her determination to be treated fairly in this place, lord knows you’ve been trying for respect for some time too. And then, soon enough, Nancy begged you for help, claiming it was your last chance to be taken seriously as a reporter. Your heart wasn’t even in it, but you said yes. You left a message at the pool, and you followed the couple to Driscoll’s, not even sparing another thought to the girl at the pool.

Now you’re walking back through the hospital knowing that if you had just declined Nancy’s offer, if you had just stuck with your plans and met Heather, would you have saved her?

No, you think to yourself, shaking your head, she can’t be dead. She isn’t dead.

But where would you even start? Maybe Hopper could-

A shadow cuts in front of the doors down the hallway you’ve just entered. You’d seen enough nurses and doctors wandering around, ready to ignore it. But the figure just stood there, blocking the exit.

You squint at the person, slowing your footsteps. You couldn’t tell by the busted lightbulb above their head, dimming their features into the shadow. Your arms were littered with goosebumps, gut twisting. You should turn around.

“Y/N!”

Nancy’s scream echoes through the hospital floor, hitting you with severe impact.

Something was very wrong.

The lights along the hallway start flickering, and the figure is finally cast in unsteady light. Your feet stay frozen to the ground.

“No.” You whisper as he smiles, taking slow steps towards you. He wasn’t meant to be here.

Your dad was meant to be working late at the Post.

Another cry for help had you running back the way you came, hearing the slam of a door not far from you. You skid to a stop in front of the stairs, caught in indecision. Surely they would run for the stairs. Right?

Footsteps running in from behind you set in your flight or fight, pulling open the door and darting down the staircase to the lower floor, heartbeat flooding every one of your senses.

You burst out of the door and just keep moving, not looking back in fear of seeing him following you. He hadn’t looked right, too alien to his natural demeanour, too coincidental to be here at the same time Nancy started crying out. For the second time in your life, you found yourself running away from a man meant to love and protect you unconditionally.

And when you finally found Nancy, her stammering voice talking about a plan to take care of the flayed, you realised you’d have to stop running now, and face the man that loved you with conditions, and never protected you from himself.

“Nancy…” You shake your head at her as you slowly start walking backwards down the hallway.

She barely gave you a moment to think before she was telling you her idea, her stubborn mind fixed to what she believed would work. You weren’t so sure.

“Just stay in position, Y/n.” She hisses at you from behind and you trust her, you really do. But she was foolish to think you were the right person for this.

“I can’t.” You whisper back, tears falling down your face. The lights overhead start to flicker and you grip the metal pole in your hand tighter, praying he doesn’t walk around the corner, that it was all a misunderstanding.

“Just a little longer.” She promises, her soothing voice holding more worth to you than she knows. If only you had seen her face.

Two loud footsteps echo out from around the corner and you hold your breath, waiting for the man to show himself and force every fibre of your body not to run. But it wasn’t him. It was Tom Holloway, Heather’s father, and he was smiling at you.

“Ah, Y/n.” He clicks his neck, smirking, “I knew I’d find you here.”

You shake your head. It wasn’t meant to be him. He was supposed to be dead.

“It’s such a shame no one checked to see if they finished the job.” He laughs, pulling a scalpel you hadn’t even seen protruding from his neck, shrugging when no blood comes rushing out. “Someone should really go check on that poor boy, though. Such a wuss.”

“Nancy.” You try and whisper, but you hear nothing back, only the echo of her retreating footsteps as she rushes to find her boyfriend. You understood, you really did, but you’ve never felt so scared.

“Just the two of us, now.” Tom clears his throat, walking forward with intent and you hold out the pole. “That won’t do anything.”

“Stay back.” You cry out, noticing how dark the black veins were appearing now. Was Heather like this too? “I’m warning you.”

“Or what? You’ll trick me?” He laughs maniacally, stopping just short of you reaching the end of the hall, the corner just behind you. “Or should I say… us?”

Your eyes widen, but it’s too late. A sharp and searing pain digs into your shoulder and you scream, dropping your only weapon out of shock and jolting forward. You stumble, cradling your shoulder as you spin around on the floor, another pair of soulless eyes staring down at you. A sob leaves your lips.

“Dad?”

“Join us.”

You start scrambling away, pushing your legs out beneath you to keep yourself moving back as they stare down at you. Your shoulder was throbbing, blood trickling between your fingertips. You think about calling out for Nancy and Jonathan, but you weren’t even sure if they’d come to save you.

As you start to crumble into the corner, two pairs of soulless eyes prepared to make you one of them, your chest starts to hurt more than any wound could. Whatever friendship you had before was shattered now. With Heather gone, there wasn’t much left for you to care about in Hawkins.

In the corner of your eye, you catch a glimpse of something shining under the flickering lights. It was close, close enough to reach out and grab.

“There’s no reason to be afraid.” Tom smiles, an unnatural curve to his lips. “When you join us, it’ll feel like nothing ever happened.”

Your father smiles with him, and you raise your head.

“No thanks.”

You lunge for the metal pole and manage to grab hold, spinning onto your back and striking it upwards just as one of them pounced at you, the sharp end piercing skin and slipping directly up into their chin, splattering blood on your face.

Tom stumbles back, grabbing at his throat as black veins suddenly burst from the wound. But he wasn’t the one you caught.

“Dad?” You whisper, watching his eyes slowly droop towards you, body slumping against the ground. If you had expected some sort of humanity to return to him, you weren’t going to see it. He was gone, not an ounce of his soul left.

They both finally drop to the floor, exhaling a final breath. You pull your legs out from beneath the body, trying to prop yourself up but crashing back down when the muscles in your arm give out.

“Y/N?!”

You can hear Nancy and Jonathan calling for you, echoing footsteps approaching from further down the hall. The pain in your shoulder was excruciating now, and you were never great at dealing with pain.

You slump against the wall, closing your eyes, unknowing if you would ever want to open them again.

Everything felt normal when you opened your eyes. You were used to the pounding headache in the morning, a flicker of whatever nightmare you endured leaving a scar on your brain. It didn’t happen this time.

You tried to remember what happened. You vaguely recall seeing Robin, her smile. And then…

Everything is thrown back into focus, head darting around the room as you panic against the white lights. It looked like a hospital, the plastic sheet trailing around your bed for privacy. It looked scarily like the bed you woke up in after the flayed incident.

You try and sit up, but your arms can’t move. You try and shift your legs, nothing. It felt like you were tied down to the bed. You managed to angle your head to look down, the panic rising spectacularly.

Vines were slithering around your wrists and ankles, keeping you in place.

Struggling against their strength, you start crying out for help, lights around you flickering wildly. Your top lip still feels wet from the nosebleed. Vecna had you again, and you knew this time was different. This time, he didn’t want you to escape.

The plastic sheet surrounding your bed is suddenly pulled back, and it was like you couldn’t even breathe anymore.

“Hi, honey.” Your father says, mouth dripping black blood, veins stretching around a wound underneath his chin.

You try and ignore him, looking anywhere but where he stood and tugging at your restraints. This wasn’t real. He’s dead. He died-

“Because you killed me.” He growls. Your eyes widen. How did he-

Vecna, you tell yourself, it’s Vecna.

“You didn’t even try to save me.” He creeps closer, first curling around something you couldn’t see. “You cared more about that stupid Holloway girl than you ever did your own flesh and blood.”

A tear escapes your eye, scrunching your face in fury. You hate how much this is affecting you.

“What do you have to say for yourself?”

He wants this, you remind yourself, still relentlessly pulling at the vines. Vecna wants you to feel guilt, he wants you to feel like you’re responsible for his death. And he’s using your dead father to do it.

You frown, stopping your attempts of escape.

Can Vecna really win if you didn’t believe his lies?

“I’d do it all over again if it meant I could save Heather.”

He looks taken aback- Vecna looks taken aback. Like he wasn’t expecting you to be so… heartless.

“My father was an asshole, and a bitter man. He never cared about his own flesh and blood. And I’m glad he’s dead. I never wanted it to be this way, but I will never, never, let myself feel guilty over something that wasn’t my fault.”

“And what about me?”

You turn your head to the other side of the bed, a girl leant against the wall in the shadows. You didn’t need to see her. You’ve been haunted by her voice for months now.

“I couldn’t have done anything.” You say, mostly to convince yourself what everyone has been telling you for ages. It wasn’t your fault.

“You could have chosen me over your friends.” She spits bitterly, not moving from the dark corner. “They used you. You’ve known Jonathan your whole life, and he didn’t care about you. Nancy didn’t even care if she left you for dead. You were nothing but a pawn.”

“I stayed. That was my choice.” You squeeze your eyes shut. “I might never forgive myself for what happened to you, but I won’t let it ruin my life.”

“But you’ll let it ruin mine?”

Your eyes fly open, shock taking your breath.

She finally steps out of the shadow, voice warped into someone else. Because she was someone else.

“You don’t even like me, do you?” Robin asks, tears running down her face but her expression was emotionless. “You want me to be Heather. You want her.”

“No.” You whisper, tugging against the vines on your wrists.

“You knew this was happening to you, and you let me fall for you.” She shakes her head, leaning over the bed so she was staring down at you from an uncomfortable distance. “And I know if you survive, you’re never going to look at me again. You just used me to feel better about your bitter life. You don’t think you should be loved. And you’re right. Your father never loved you. Your mother hated you so much she left. Your gran doesn’t even want you here.”

“Shut up!” You scream, breaking free your right hand to push her away.

She stumbles back as you claw at your other wrist.

“It was only a matter of time before you hurt her”

Everything was plunged into a dark red, the bed disappearing from beneath you and you land hard on rocky ground, coughing.

“You should have left when you had the chance, Y/n”

You try to scramble to your feet, but a flick of his hand throws you against a protruding staircase, making you cough from the impact.

You manage to grab hold of a spindle, slowly pulling yourself up. He starts to walk over to you and then abruptly stops, looking across the barren sky. At first, you don’t understand, confused with his sudden change of posture.

And then it slowly drifts in. A melody.

When the night has come

And the land is dark

And the moon is the only light we’ll see

Vecna snarls, turning back to you. You look surprised, you felt surprised.

This was your favourite song blasting through a crimson nightmare. A song you held so close to you, you never told anyone about it.

Well, no one except the school counsellor...

No, I won’t be afraid

Oh, I won’t be afraid

Just as long as you stand

Stand by me

The faint melody from Ben E. King starts drifting around the Winnebago, filling the silence with an unsuspecting song. One that was meant to be saving your life right now.

“Does she even like this song?” Nancy asks, her chest heaving unevenly as she stares at your catatonic state. She was panicking, and to see Nancy panic like this was rare.

“It was in her bag, she obviously put it there because she likes it.” Lucas points out, and Steve tries to ignore the pit in stomach that told it that wasn’t the case.

“Then why isn’t it working?” Nancy stresses, snapping at the boy before immediately apologising.

“Woah, Nance.” Steve puts a hand on her shoulder, “It took Max a minute to get out, okay? She’s going to be fine.”

As she opened her mouth to argue, Steve was proven right.

Nancy and Dustin are the ones to catch you, ensuring a comfortable fall in an uncomfortable circumstance. Nancy quickly wipes away her tears, smiling.

“You’re okay.” She says as you reach out for a hand to hold. “We’ve got you.”

Steve smiles at that for some reason, feeling relieved and terrified. He thought Max was his last victim, so why did he need you?

There’s a soft click of the Winnebago door behind him, quiet enough to not disturb the others from their emotional celebration. Steve wouldn’t have noticed if he weren’t painfully aware of his best friend’s absence beside him.

He sneaks out and finds her stood in the field, arms wrapped around herself in comfort. When she noticed he had followed, he was surprised she didn’t say anything. Robin was rarely speechless. And so, in consideration, he decided to let a minute of silence pass.

A choked sob eventually cut through the peace.

“Robin?” He frowns, reaching out. His heart sinks when he sees the tear rolling down her cheek. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Everything.” She whispers and he pulls her into a hug.

“She’s okay. He didn’t win.”

“No, she’s not.” Robin sobs, but he only holds her tighter, letting her cry. “It’s all my fault.”

“How could it be your fault?” Steve dismisses with a soothing tone.

“Because…”

He feels her pull away, the eyes above mascara stained cheeks settling on his. Steve has known she’s been acting weirder than usual for a while now, too quiet, holding back secrets. And right now, she looked like she was going to burst.

“Robin?”

“I knew all of this was going to happen.” She whispers it like a crime. He doesn’t really understand.

“What?”

“I lied to her.” She covers her mouth, muffling the next few words. “I didn’t ask her to come here because we needed her help.”

Steve shakes his head, trying to make sense of her confession. “What- why did you bring her here?”

“I…” She takes a step back, her posture practically fighting the truth as it came out.

“Robin.” He persists.

“I found her file in Ms Kelley’s office!” She blurts, panicking at the volume of her voice. “Shit. I-” Her hands run down her face. “It wasn’t meant to happen like this. Max said she was cursed and I- I panicked. I thought maybe we could buy some time, bring in a distraction...”

“You…” Steve blinks, not bothering to quieten his own words. He was too panicked now. “You brought her here because you knew Vecna would go after her.”

Her silence said everything she couldn’t.

“Oh.” He breathes. “Okay.”

“Okay?” She frowns. “I-”

“You knew?”

They both spin around to where you’re stood, a Walkman you’ve never touched before gripped in your hand. Robin’s eyes widen, shell-shocked at your presence.

“Y/n, please.” She runs over to you, grabbing your hand in hers. You don’t remove it, or push her away. You just stand and stare. “It wasn’t meant to get this far. I just- I hoped it would all be over by now. I never meant to hurt you. I was just scared and I… Y/n?”

You slowly slip your hand out of hers, staring down at it like it was the problem. Robin’s mouth parts in surprise.

Nobody spoke. You all just stood surrounded by air poisoned with lies and deceit, your betrayed eyes resting on the girl you trusted with your life. The girl who was quite literally bartering your life this entire time.

You walked away when your heart started beating again, a tight grip around the song box currently keeping you alive.

Chapter Nine: coming soon...

taglist: @kryztalglear @learninglinesintherainn @officerrrfriendly @a-simpfortessa-lesbriean @spacedoutdaydreamer

@endurexxsurvive @em16cor @gray-cheese @chaosofmanyfandoms @kitdjarin1

@some-day--some-how @cultish-corner @marirxse @amnoisysstuff

[thegreatcaptainusopp]

Sogeking vs God Usopp: Usopp’s Dual Roles

So I’ve been doing some thinking about Usopp’s two titles on his wanted posters: Sogeking and God Usopp. Both of them are larger-than-life personas connected to Usopp, and inform the way that he’s viewed by the world at large. And after thinking about it some I think I’ve come to the conclusion that each title reflects something about Usopp, and I think we can track something about his move from one to the other, as well as speculate where he goes from here.

Part 1: Why did Luffy recruit Usopp?

I wanna start here by discussing something I’ve noticed about the way Luffy recruited Usopp onto the crew.

Firstly, I realized upon doing my reread of the manga that Luffy did not know about Usopp’s sniping ability until after he had already joined the crew.

This was incredible to me, because I had figured that, well, Luffy had witnessed Usopp’s almost supernaturally-good sniping skills and wanted him to join the crew on that basis, but nope. According to what Luffy actually saw during the Syrup Village Arc was Usopp, village boy, Yasopp’s son, protector of his friends, courageous hero, and, most importantly, liar. Or, in other words, storyteller.

So, my thesis about Luffy’s recruitment of Usopp is the following: Luffy wanted Usopp because he wanted a storyteller for his crew, and this is what Luffy initially envisioned his role to be until he saw how skilled he was as a sniper.

Here’s my proof:

When Luffy meets Usopp, he’s not actually all that impressed by him: he thinks he’s funny, but explicitly notes that he doesn’t want him to join the crew (Usopp said he’d be captain, but still). The turning point for Luffy’s opinion of Usopp happens here, when the Usopp pirates tell the straw hats about why Usopp tells Kaya stories:

Here, Usopp’s good qualities are tied directly to his lying, or to his storytelling, and wins Luffy over. This happens multiple times throughout the arc, with Luffy getting increasingly more impressed by Usopp, and many of these examples include Usopp lying or telling stories to either protect his friends or hide his great courage. Zoro and Nami also begin the admire and like him for similar reasons:

Again, none of this has anything to do with Usopp’s ability as a sniper. Luffy specifically likes Usopp’s courage and lying, and it’s these two qualities that lead him to want to add him to his crew. It is important to note too that a key role of Zoro’s in the final confrontation was removing items blocking Usopp’s shots: so he at least knew Usopp was a more than decent shot, and he is crucially the one to actually invite Usopp aboard the Merry. Luffy seems to treat it like it was forgone conclusion instead.

And it is the chapter after the leave Syrup Village with Usopp already on board that Luffy, after seeing him fire a cannon, awards him the role of sniper. Which means that he had not recruited him to be that person, he had recruited him based only what he had seen earlier: the courageous warrior who steps up to save his friends, and does so in many ways by telling stories. And that is the person Luffy initially wanted in the crew, and by happenstance ended up with a world class sniper to boot.

Interestingly enough, Luffy knew full well about Yasopp’s sniping skills, and was very impressed by them. Usopp, too, takes pride in being the son of a skilled sniper and great pirate, and much of his dreams focus on both of these goals as it’s what he admired the most in his father.

So, what does this mean? Here’s why this is important to establish:

1. The crew has already seen Usopp act as a brave warrior of the sea, and already knew he achieved his dream before even starting it

2. Luffy rated Usopp’s character and lying so highly that he not only befriended him, he wanted him for his crew

3. Usopp’s role as a sniper was not something Luffy saw as a core element of his personality/dream until after the fact. Meaning that Usopp also did not ever mention his sniping skills as being a large part of his identity.

Part 2. Sogeking the sniper

Now with that established, let’s talk about Sogeking.

Sogeking as a persona was born out of Usopp’s lies, out of his storytelling ability: he brought him into existence out of thin air, wearing the mask of the hero that he needed to be to save Robin.

The thing is, this hero is specifically and necessarily themed around Usopp’s sniping ability. It’s revealing of what Usopp considers to be his own best quality, which is his sniping skill. Therefore, Sogeking IS Usopp’s sniping ability in every sense: his confidence, his heroism, the things that he’s good at, all wrapped up into a person that Usopp constructed and meticulously maintains.

So, Sogeking exists at the overlap of both of Usopp’s roles on the crew: he was born out of a story that Usopp purposefully maintained and put effort into: everything from his costuming to his way of speaking to his backstory was constructed with intent and meaning. But he is maintained through Usopp’s insanely skilled sniping, which takes the story that Usopp initially constructed and turns it into fact, the Sniper King started out a lie but turned into a truth because Usopp is just that good at it. This reflects our introduction to Usopp too: as a storyteller first, a sniper second.

Sogeking also reflects something about Usopp’s power as a storyteller, which is autonomy. In creating Sogeking, Usopp created the narrative to which he was exposed to the world through his bounty poster and title. That is a name and narrative completely of his own devising, whilst everyone else got names & narratives driven by the world government. Usopp, in having the power to create his own public persona, chose to theme it around sniping, and thus deliberately placed his sniper role in a higher position than his storytelling/lying one. The role he shares with his father, rather than the one that is entirely his own.

Part 3: God Usopp the Storyteller

Now, let’s go to God Usopp.

This persona is the mirror image of Sogeking in so many ways. For one, God Usopp was born in the inverse style that Sogeking was: whilst Sogeking burst out of Usopp’s head fully formed, God Usopp was a gifted title, a persona that was bestowed upon him by others. Unlike with Sogeking, God Usopp was not an expression of Usopp’s autonomy, or of his ability to tell his own story. Instead, it is the opposite: God Usopp is when he lost control of the story, where others stepped in to control his narrative, to choose the kind of person he is going to be. And the persona they chose? God Usopp, a savior, a creator. A storyteller.

The general public, when faced with Usopp, again notice and admire what Luffy first noticed and admired: Usopp’s courage and ability to create something out of nothing. It is an enduring trend with Usopp, where the people around him hold his storytelling ability in the greatest esteem, while he believes that his sniping ability is the more important one by a long shot.

Furthermore, and more importantly, God Usopp is the inverse of Sogeking because while it’s the story that created Sogeking and the sniping that maintained it, it’s the sniping that created God Usopp and the storytelling that maintained it. Usopp was only able to get to helping Sugar’s victims in Dressrosa because of his sniping ability, before transitioning to lying (and claiming, well, Noland the Liar in a very on-the-nose comparison) and, eventually, falling into a completely out of control situation that causes the people to be freed and awarding him the title of God.

Of course, his sniping ability does return in a big way to complete the arc (and unlock his haki), but it is only effective because of the trauma inflicted on Sugar in the first place, the trauma that directly led to the birth of the title of God Usopp. And, as a consequence, the death of Sogeking, unless Usopp ever decides to break out the mask and take back control of the narrative. If that is even the narrative he wants anymore.

Part 4: What does it all mean?

So, we have Sogeking and God Usopp. Two sides of the same coin, both inverses of each other when it comes to Usopp’s dual roles on the crew: sniper and storyteller. Can the inherent tension between the two personas tell us anything about what comes next for Usopp?

Maybe. I think, based on how Usopp was recruited, and the slow transition from Sogeking to God Usopp, that we’re going to see a Usopp who leans much more into that element of himself. In other words, I think Usopp is going to embrace his role as a liar/storytelller to finally achieve his dream.

Because, the thing is, his sniping ability is already perfected. Has been, from the very beginning. On that, he didn’t need much training, and has since received a couple upgrades that instantly skyrocketed him to one of the best in the world. In a similar sense, his dream has also already been achieved: his is a brave warrior of the sea. If he wasn’t, ironically, he never would’ve been recruited by Luffy in the first place, nor would he have received Zoro and Nami’s initial approval.

I also want to bring Yasopp back into the discussion here. Usopp’s pride in his sniping ability is very much connected to the fact that he shares this skill with his father, and that is partly why he loves to highlight it as something he is proud of. Even though, as mentioned earlier, he did not seem to see it as a core part of his personality early on in the story.

I think, by embracing what makes him truly unique, and truly Usopp (his lying, his storytelling) he will unlock the final level of his power and finally come to realize that he had achieved his dream all along. He just needed the self confidence to realize it, and this confidence would come after accepting every part of himself, including the ones he might feel ashamed of.

After all, his storytelling and lying is what endear people to him, what made Luffy and Zoro and Nami initially be willing to risk their lives for a kid whom they had just met, just because he needed help. And, as evidenced by the God title, very much extends to others who’d be willing to follow’s Usopp’s direction, perhaps hinting at a potential to unlock a certain branch of haki that focuses on leadership and control…?

Regardless, I think that Usopp is due for a large power up of some sort, especially as they reach Elbaf, and, well, Elbaf IS Fable backwards, very much a type of story…

All this to say, Usopp’s role IS both storyteller and sniper and both of these things are as important as the other, and in order to achieve his full potential Usopp needs to acknowledge all his strengths and fully complete his journey to be a full fledged brave warrior of the sea

[llannasvsp]

Dragons Rising Season 2, Episode 5: The Spell at the Waterfall

HALFWAY POINT!!!

I love the plush. I want the plush. I need the plush.

"I do not experience heightened emotions." You LIAR.

Zane, those lanterns are not blocking the portal gate.

The orb is Wu and Wu just saved them all.

Not Bonzle casually lore dropping.

Zane is SO ADORABLE with his little plush.

Again, I do not like the elemental mechs.

Egalt, keep your ugly mouth shut.

I can't believe the fang ranking was a truth.

Glad Wyldfyre knows her element now.

I feel so bad for Bonzle. Her story is so sad.

ZANE CUDDLING WITH THE PLUSH?? GEO AND COLE HOLDING HANDS???

WU????????????

Awee poor Riyu.

Motion... like the source dragon that gave Lloyd the vision of Egalt.

"Little fire man." I love.

I NEED TO READ SPINJITZU BROTHERS SOME PLEASE TELL ME HOW YOU FIND IT.

I wonder when in the timeline Wu met Bonzle.

Ohhhh Wyldfyre... she's so silly. Waaaait is this the disguise Doc was talking about that was "worse" than Doyll Donmagar?

Egalt, don't you DARE make Arin feel bad.

I want to give Arin the biggest hug ever.

I've been talking about a rift between Arin and Lloyd. This is the scene where I can see it starting. Arin shoves Lloyd off when Lloyd suggests to run drills with him.

MORE COLE AND GEO HAND HOLDING.

THE HUGS OHHGHHHHHHH

"You are loved and needed." HHHHGHH COLEEEE.

It is hilarious to me that Ras is having Cinder training with literal vases like literally those would break under any sort of pressure.

WHERE IS RAS GOING??

Soooo Lloyd and Ras get eerily similar visions.

Human sacrifices! Cool!

Soooo this season continues to break my heart. But also, it makes me so so so happyyyyy!!! I love Cole and the Finders with my whole heart. This episode literally confirms Lost as canon. Let's be honest.

Arin's self doubt is being heightened. Poor guy. Egalt is too harsh on him.

I don't even know how to compile my thoughts because there are like eight thousand things happening up here.

Until next episode!

[kit-williams]

Hoof Care

Yes I was really thinking of Baldamort's voice for Drar (Watch his video on the Master of Executions and well you can probably figure out where I got Drar's voice from)

Husbandry tag list: @egrets-not-regrets @liar-anubiass-blog @barn-anon @bleedingichorhearts @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

thank you @squishyowl for the 40k themed dividers

It was that time of the month again where you'd get a call to go to them they paid you quiet a bit and of course you weren't the only person going... it was always a big big event. You head to the Iron Warrior's base near the city... most Chaos Space Marines' don't have bases but their loyalist counterparts do... though Iron Warriors are an exception not a norm. Though you weren't sure as the Iron Warriors didn't have too much friction with their "traitor" selves? You didn't understand nor really bother too.

The norm would be the fact that there is a Night Lord base being built somewhere given that there were now enough loyalist night lords demanding it. But you made sure your tools were sharp and everything was ready... you knew the only downside of the Iron Warriors was the fact that both loyalist and traitor elements kept pushing and vying for power within their own... faction?

As you backed your truck in and got out you could hear his crooning... he was old had that slightly withered lit to his voice as it croaked out of him as if he had ruined his vocal cords time and time again. "Missy so nice of you to join us." Drar the Warpcutter spoke and if you remembered he said he was the leader of a warband known as the Malefactors of Sin.

"Lord Drar... and hello Helios." You politely said as his Master of Executions followed. The big man behind him looked at you and you swallowed... you didn't get the feel good vibes everyone else got. Your eyes flicked to their weapons... to the skulls up their belt... and you had a feeling Drar enjoyed the fact you were afraid of them. "Where is Vasso..." You ask for the current "chapter master" and you watch Drar wave his hand.

"Busy. The child is going to work himself to death at this rate and I... took the liberty of playing host for him." He says with a grin, "But enough pleasantries... you're the final one to arrive." You flinch as his massive hand pushes against your back and you move into the hanger.

Chaos Space Marines of countless chapters and warbands were here all highly mutated. Heavy hooves clipped and clopped against the floor as centaurs made their way to the designated zone. You headed over to the other ferriers as Drar trilled his goodbye and Helios just gave a nod. You could see where other space marines were watching and learning how to take care of their mutated brothers and cousins as in the far corner you could see iron warriors guarding feral marines that took the offer for maintained care but do not want humans touching them. You could understand as it took you a long time to get over the wrongness of your clients.

At least they behaved better than horses, the massive hooves were clipped and trimmed even polished if they wanted too. The utterly massive Black Legionary stallion... Troc was his name, he would have been such a pretty black horse, brought his own shoes... shiny brass things. He liked his hooves painted a nice solid black.

You could hear Adamatar bellowing as the white minotaur had hurt one of his hooves and so trying to get him to behave enough to put a block on his hoof was feeling like an impossible task. You could spy long tails wagging as fur coats were being brushed... a canine centaur of a Night Lord was half asleep as he was getting his jet black fur coat groomed and nails trimmed on his paws. You trimmed the frog of Troc's hooves just shaping his hoof as he was currently gushing about his bonded... a little girl who had a habit of calling him "pony" or "horsey" when she got overly excited and also calling him "Truck".

The shiny iron horseshoes of a bulky draft of an Iron warrior caught your eye. They certainly liked to feel pretty.... you shiver as a heavily mutated space marine lumbers past... organized chaos of it all and you're getting paid enough that it makes you not have to worry about the slower times of the year.

You could see someone with their body leaning into a massive stomach maw just cleaning the teeth of the marine. You stop looking as you hammer in his shoe and work on cutting the nails and then applying the black hoof polish.... rinse and repeat.

Sure they cooperated more then an actual animal but it was still a lot of hard work. "Hey!" You snapped at someone's apprentice. "Don't just walk behind them!" You said pointing out the fact that they were just walking right behind the centaurs. Which if he was working with actual horses was bad practice.

"They won't kick." They countered back.

"Yeah but they still can't see you and when you work with an actual horse they will kick if you walk right behind you. Give them the same berth as you would an actual horse because if one of these boy's kicks you're going to die." You huff as you resume working on the hooves of the Iron Warrior as someone was working on his horns... it was sometimes easier to do multiple tasks on the same marine as they kept still.

Lunch was provided and it was nice... it felt normal to have that lull in working as you grabbed a coffee as you worked in shifts... went around inspecting other's techniques... watching how some of them were teaching their apprentices, in various fields, or how they were teaching the Astartes on how to take care of their own. Sometimes a feral marine would be brave and try to get taken care of by one of us "mortals" but you never volunteered you had plenty of Astartes asking for you to work on them personally.

But the day blurred on by till you were getting handed a stack of cash of a few thousand dollars with the hope that you would come back same time next month and as well as the cavate that if something changed they would inform you. Again you see Drar as you head back to your trunk and a cup of coffee, that looks so small in his hands, is given to you. "What's this for?"

"Job well done?" He croons.

"Ah yes the usual hush coffee so I don't tattle on Vasso of you playing chapter master huh?" You say ignoring the scowl on his face as you sip the coffee, "or... is it hush coffee to keep me from tattling again to Vasso because you enjoy scaring people?"

"Mouthy little mortal aren't you." He hisses as you cow slightly, far too tired to not be filled with dread as he moves far too smoothly for something so big. He spat to the side, "But something like that."

"And like usual I'm going to be the last one to leave because you like chatting." You say tiredly as you drink the hot brew that made you feel tired. You had enough for a hotel in the city for tonight though... beds were always available here at the fortress. "I have a feeling you're going to chat me up so long I might just have to spend the night."

Drar laughed, it was hardly a pleasant sounding thing... it was dark and ominous... it was downright an evil sounding thing that ended rolling in his chest till it quieted. "You look exhausted."

You just drank the coffee to prevent yourself from making a 'captain obvious' joke, "I might stay tonight or at least get a few hours of shut eye."

"Then let me play the good host once more." He crooned and you just locked your car after placing your tools inside... just a few hours of sleep then you'd make the drive home.

[purgemarchlockdown]

Liar Tax

(Also Known as: Nott had Visions due to Dehydration about the Shidou covers)

So the cover songs are some of my personal favorite things about Milgram. When I first got into Milgram I got brainblasted by the Animal cover and was never the same. Since then I've always wanted to write more about the covers but I never got around to writing anything about them at length.

And then I put on the Shidou Covers.

On the count of "I-love-you"

The most noticeable common denominator when it comes to these songs is the concept of lying which I will relegated to a secondary element because I think these two songs have something more interesting to give us when it comes to insight on Kirisaki Shidou.

Shidou is very much what I would dub an Eternity Seeker. He longs for the:

T1Q16: What is the definition of happiness? A: To be promised an unchanging tomorrow.

He has this distinct romanticized version of the past and wishes he had the stable family life that he lost. His songs and VDs are tinged with this very strong sense of grief and longing for the better past where nothing bad ever happened actually.

“Throw down” connecting you with me, To keep you alive, you are still living

His crime as well seems to be connected to him trying to save "someone" (presumably his wife but also possibly one of his children) and failing. He's not exactly someone who can cope with change Well. That's why he's here after all. He's forsaken a lot of "morality" to get what he wants here.

"Stolen? Just whatever do you mean?" Committing myself to this performance, set lines and all Those memories we've desperately created and clung to, they blend together and feelings between us intensify

That’s right, for all these dirty delusions, let’s settle the bill with this dirty money

And he's not exactly uh- great at coping with this entire.

For someone who has self admitted to have done a lot of bad things, is stubborn and unwilling to change, and still says that for love he would do:

T1Q6: What are you willing to sacrifice for love? A: Everything.

He's pretty unforgiving to himself about this. He asked a 15 year old to kill him and all. His morals and beliefs are strict and rigid and it hurts everyone around him, including him.

Liar Dance reflects this. The singer is unforgiving and hateful towards who their singing towards but the singer talks about how:

It's swallowed you up completely, hasn't it? Liar Turn me inside-out and I look just like you It's nice to meet you, "Crime" and Punishment" No matter what you say

It's too late to apologize We're already partners in this crime called "love"

Acknowledging that they are the same in the end. Akin to how even though Shidou makes a distinction between the part of him that committed horrible acts of presumed medical malpractice and the part that is a good respectable member of society in Throw Down. They are Both Him.

And the feelings of deceit and guilt that comes with tricking people into believing that you (Shidou) are better than you actually are. The feeling of having gone too far, That:

“Throw down” ethics is a delusion I’m still guilty even if the morning comes

Liar Dance thus functions as a bit of a self condemnation. But I don't think that's the only possible meaning that can be derived from it. As Liar Dance is also distinctly about weak and false love.

I'm not going to sit here and tell you Shidou didn't care about his family. What I will say is that You Should Read These Posts by @/archivalofsins that break down the distinct possibility that Shidou Kirisaki might just be kinda a bad dad. His romanticization obscuring the knowledge that, no family can be that perfect and that Shidou was most likely less good then he would like to admit.

Dance away, liar This love has swelled up like a balloon, let's turn it into a lie with the prick of a needle On the count of "I-love-you"

It's a lie because any sort of perfect cishet marriage is a lie. That's not a thing because there's no such thing as a perfect relationship. Shidou's standards are so high that they could be considered childish.

A family and love so perfect it can't be anything But a lie.

Turning wishes into reality

But that's not all.

While Delusion Tax is also a song that can pretty easily be mapped onto Shidou's feelings of selfishness about the morally questionable things he did for the sake of what he wants. There's also another aspect of it and Shidou's character I'd like to explore.

Kirisaki Shidou is a Boyprince.

Or uh- to read better in Milgram terms. A Savior.

Shidou Kirisaki has this thing about needing people to rely on him to feel...alive and needed.

That’s right, there’s justice that needs saving See, indispensable, I’m indispensable

Existing for your sake alone, mandatory affections and obligated kindness

He needs to be useful to others because to feel like he deserves a place in the world. To feel like he can live within it. He chose to be a doctor because:

T1Q1: Why did you choose your current workplace? A: Because I thought it'd let me contribute to society.

after all.

However, Shidou Kirisaki is self-admittedly selfish despite these seemingly altruistic intents.

Though you should be satisfied, a voice from within shouts “NO!” We have an idiot on our hands, it seems…

For many reasons, but one of them is because he doesn't really care too much about a person's autonomy if he thinks he needs to save or guide them in some way.

This is the most clear with Amane. Who hates him for this!

Shidou: I…… I just don’t understand. If everything about MILGRAM is true…… why did a child like you have to become a murderer? Just imagining what sort of circumstances must have led to that, it makes me so sad…… Amane: ……*sigh*. Is that right. I don’t think I’m going to get along with you, Shidou-san. I don’t agree with the fact you refuse to acknowledge that I have my own free will, and that I should be held accountable for my actions, just because I’m a child. I may have only been alive for 12 years, but all the choices I’ve made, even if they weren’t the best ones, were entirely my own. What point is there in you getting sad when I have no regrets myself?

Because he longs for someone to save to have purpose in this world, he implicitly imposes himself as a "larger authority" on them. Believing his actions and feelings to have a greater importance then what they say.

Let’s pay that Delusion Tax For the sake of making everyone’s life oh so wonderful…

While the Delusion Tax can also read as the "price" he paid in the attempt to what he wanted when it came to his crime.

That which you wish for, the person you think of, The past which you hate as well, they’ll all be as you like. The kind of face and chest you desire, they’ll be granted if you pay.

it can also be read as what Shidou "sacrifices" for the sake of:

making everyone’s life oh so wonderful…

Since, Shidou also has a thing about choosing what he believes to be more valuable and important to a community and this extends to how he treats the people around him.

“Throw down”, someone’s value Cannot be the same as another “Throw down” should choose between superiority or inferiority

He creates these defined lines of who is better and worse, who would be more helpful and who he can...ignore for the sake of others.

Not because he's an evil person who wants to sacrifice people. Again, he has world's worst guilt complex. Just because...from a pragmatic standpoint...some people just contribute less than others and Oh No Don't Look at this Wikipedia Page for Eugenics I have Accidentally Linked!

"Hey, that girl is pretty great… Her too!" Looks like you’re thinking some pretty nice thoughts over there… Are you really satisfied with just that? Don’t you think it’d be nice for it all to come true? “That girl is alright… That one works too, I guess” Pretending you love compromise, what a liar!

Delusion Tax's perspective Singer is talking about granting people's Wishes. For a price. But that price is good for something better right?

Turning wishes into reality Right now, buy back your future! Afflicted by so badly wanting to do “that”, consumed by desire Come now, let’s go beyond all this pain

Everything must have an equivalent exchange right?

Well, now we can circle back to his murder because, well, that's not really how life works either. Life isn't really fair in the sense of you pay something and you get what you want back. Sometimes you pay everything and still lose.

You can't save everyone, not necessarily because you were naive or because you didn't try hard enough or didn't do the dirty work you should of or whatever. But because, you just can't. It's impossible.

A Lie, a Farce, a Delusion, if you will.

But those wishes won't really come true, even if you pay For it’s all a lie, a great big farce

The Correct Answer, I Don’t Yet Know

Kirisaki Shidou I think, really does want the world to be fair. He wants to contribute, be useful, be important. Have the world stay in balance. He submits himself to be guilty verdict-ed because he Deserves To Die, but changes his mind and tries to convince Es to let him live because people now Need him and the "balance" of the "world" has now shifted into needing him.

It's his own perspective on the world applied onto himself. In Trial 1 he's sorted himself into an undesirable who should not be let into society anymore. In Trial 2 he's pinged himself as someone so important and priceless that they Must Not let him go.

Is this a necessarily healthy view? No! Not at all! This harms much more people than him really!

But Shidou's worldview is one that is rigid and working on thoughts on what is "good" or "bad" for the world. It's childish in that sense, causing him to harm others and be stubborn and unwilling to reflect and making him someone who Really Should Not be a doctor, and I think the cover songs explore what he does and the worldview around it really well.

[vilavi-2]

Day 2: LoA Damian x Hero Raven

Damiraeweek 2023 @damirae-week

I'm working on a continuation of my Nanda Parbat story from Chap 23 of Feather Collection. I've still got a lot to get through, but here's a sneak peek! (sorry it's a lil rough)

-

It’s the middle of Raven’s second winter in Nanda Parbat, just as fiercely cold and cruel as the first. With the Himalayas locked in an icy grip, most stewards and soldiers have been reassigned to warmer, more productive posts. Only a token force of loyal elites remains at the compound to keep the elemental damage at bay and protect it from anyone foolish enough to brave the snowed-in passes, icy climbs, and whiteout stormy skies. And should all those defenses fail, it would only bring them face-to-face with Ra’s and Qalb al Ghul, ready to defend their seat of power.

It’s the best winter of his life, Damian decides, pale green eyes locked implacably on hers. Raven narrows her own back at him before dropping them to the fan of playing cards in her hands. She bites her lower lip thoughtfully, and he can feel the slight tap of her foot next to his thigh. She has so many tells, it’s hard to pick his favorite. Still, he doesn’t let his gaze wander to appreciate the bare legs on either side of him, or the flash of Raven’s chest and collar through the loosened pankou knots of her blouse. He instead sits cross legged in front of her with deliberate stillness until she plucks two cards from her hand and lays them face down on the mattress. 

“Two,” she says with casual confidence. Damian deals them to her obligingly, smirking at the victorious glint in her eyes when she studies her new hand. It’s not that Raven is a bad liar, or easy to read. It’s that it never even occurs to her to hide from him anymore. As it should be, beloved. Damian looks at his own cards, and exchanges three of them, face devoid of expression as he returns to scrutinizing her.

“Well?”

“I’m in,” Raven replies in that same confident tone. “Robe.”

His lips tick up slightly and Raven betrays a slight hesitation, instantly looking back at her cards as if to make sure she saw them right. 

“Call. Shirt.” He motions to her to show her hand and she bites her lip again before slowly turning them around. A flush of diamonds. Damian gives an approving nod. “That’s good,” he tells her. But judging from her light frown and the accusation in her violaceous eyes, she knows she’s beat. He shows her his hand, finally allowing himself a victorious smirk. Full House. “But not good enough.”

Raven’s glaring — pouting, really — but she still undoes the knots down her front and lets him push the garment off her shoulders. Only four rounds in and she’s down to her bra and underwear. Damian hasn’t even gotten his robe off yet.

"How did I let you talk me into this?" she grumbles, hugging her chest and rubbing her arms. A hearth and several well-fed braziers keep the worst of the cold out, but her skin is still breaking out in gooseflesh, disrobed as she is. Raven’s practically sitting in his lap already, so it’s easy to pull her the rest of the way, settling her against his chest and curling both arms hard around her. She burrows into him, as she always does. 

“I have no idea why you agreed,” Damian answers, smiling to himself. “You have no aptitude for games, ya amar.” She grumbles an incoherent, indignant sound. He drops a kiss on her bare shoulder. 

Nanda Parbat is on winter rations. Rice and millet, salted meat, pickled vegetables. None of her precious teas or anything resembling a delicacy has been able to get through in months. There’s a few cases of amber wine held in reserve to help prevent anyone up here from getting too bored or stir crazy. Not anyone’s idea of a good time.

Except that Raven's here, with him, and unlike last winter when they were still bound in secrecy Damian doesn't have to worry about a future where she might not be. Her crown hangs on one of their bedposts, glinting in affirmation of that fact.

Definitely the best winter of my life, he thinks.

[beginningobserver]

Ni attempts to insert Rui-Ukko in 02 TV Series: the post.

⚠This is a ROUGH draft and may change later. ALSO, IT MIGHT HAVE CANON REFERENCES TO THE MOVIE ELEMENTS, SO I DON'T RECOMMEND READING IT WITHOUT WATCHING 02TB FIRST!

Ok, so the idea here is... to put Rui-kun and Ukkomon in 02. I've tried to pick a route here, and it might change later.

Will be under [read more/keep reading] so you can avoid spoilers even if i tag it with the spoilers tag.

[CW: murder mention + body horror]

So far, I've drawn not one but TWO routes for this AU - one where nothing bad happens to Rui (or, if it does, it's the usual Adv/02 level of child trauma, not something that goes "over the kids' timeslot filters" like this movie does) and he gets to explore the Digital World with Ukkomon alongside the 02 group...

... And one where maybe the "eye thing" happens during the 02 events. Now if it is the same as in the canon and the movie or not, I have no idea yet. But I am still amusing myself with this one comic where the Kaiser is testing his evil rings on Rui because he has a digi-eye and... Yeah, check out the doodle for yourselves. 

Since I like both ideas I might mix them in one interquel plotline.

So Rui is the first Chosen Child, but this term hadn't been coined by the time of his encounter with Ukkomon. And Ukkomon helped Rui to get a better life, despite not having miraculous powers to grant wishes like he told Rui. Ukkomon’s tactic was just using Liar Dream on Rui’s mom and dad, to make them at least nicer to Rui.The part of the dad being in a deathbed status is also… uh, not here, but he’s still sick.

Ukkomon protected Rui from bullies as well, by using his mind-hijacking powers to drive them away. Despite both being bad at communicating with others, they do manage to get along. Rui still hates the same things as the canon, but more likely that he does not find them interesting (plus, the part of hating cake/sweets is about OVERLY sweet things and he prefers not-too-sweet stuff, or not-too-sweet fruits) yet he doesn’t seem to get courage to say them because he never had been listened by his own family. At this point, Ukkomon is not well aware of the difference between being legitimately happy and being just a bubbly kid. So… Ukkomon starts getting desperate trying to protect Rui’s smile from everything and going nuts (aka, “i can’t let him get sad or miserable!!” sort of thing, yes it’s basically what happened in canon too) and just… manipulating people with his mind-hijacking eye-stare technique.

Rui lives in Hikarigaoka, but going to the Digital World like everyone else, somehow his digivice – being the first model in the world – manages to get the access to the Digital Gate and he goes there to cool off and have fun with the digimon. It’s when he heard about this new menace called Digimon Kaiser. His digi-friends started to beg him and Ukkomon to help, but Rui says he can’t do much because Ukkomon cannot evolve and he’s afraid of fighting. Ukkomon also is clueless about how to evolve, he only knows more kids with digimon were appearing. Then, Ukkomon suggests trying to find those kids and ask them to help their digimon friends. Funny enough, the 02 kids + older six were already doing that.

In one of the offscreen attacks of the Kaiser’s army, Rui’s right eye gets hurt and Ukkomon starts panicking because this means Rui will be sad and upset so he just sacrifices his own right eye and slaps it in the boy’s face. Of course Rui hates that and snaps at him. Ukkomon feels it was all his fault and just disappears (actually, he kept around but invisible and without letting Rui know his presence). In the human world, Rui’s parents have absolutely no idea WHERE he is, so they start suddenly “caring” about him, tho they don’t go ask for help on TV or anything, they just stick with the police. The 02 kids are aware of a kid named Ohwada Rui going missing, but they think it’s nothing related to the Digital World or Ichijouji Ken/Digimon Kaiser.

Rui was having a hard time stuck in the Digital World though. He was alone, but he had the help of the local digimon refugees and survivors. This time he covered his digi-eye with an eye-patch so as not to attract the attention of the others. Somehow, the Kaiser hears about a human with a digimon eye and thinks it’s some skilled hacker “in-game” and sends his servants to search for Rui.

It was when, a few days before the Evil Spiral being made that he gets to spot the 02 kids looking for a digimon named “Agumon”. He never saw those kids– Wait a minute, he does remember seeing a boy with a Goku-like hair and a tiny girl with light brown short hair when he was a kid… Maybe they know him? (The answer is: not in person, Taichi and Hikari had passed by Rui while they lived in Hikarigaoka and until they moved to Odaiba, but none of them know each other)

Rui goes after those kids a few weeks later (around the episode Chimeramon project is almost finished), but he’s caught by the Digimon Kaiser, who was suspiciously aware of his “Digimon Eye”?! Ken just starts asking him real tough questions, thinking that kid is smart and a prodigy like him, but… Rui is just a simpleton. No offense, he’s not a genius or anything, he’s just an ordinary boy with a digimon eye and a digivice. Wormmon is scared about what that could mean, and Rui is not sure how to explain that the eye was slapped in his face against his will and that suddenly he got into a fight with his digimon and then Ukkomon just vanished and left him.

Since Rui had disappeared way before Ken decided to ditch the human world and live in the DW, he heard of a kid missing but he didn’t expect that the boy with a digimon eye from the rumors was Rui. He doesn’t feel like doing anything with Rui though, so he just throws Rui in the dungeon and focuses on the other kids. Rui has no idea if he could do something, and he feels like Ukkomon had just abandoned him and blames him for being hunted like an animal thanks to that eye.

Ken does hear Rui thru the speakers mentioning “something something if I had followed my mom’s orders I wouldn’t have been in trouble now” and he feels… empathetic for that kid? Is that possible? Ken doesn’t let Rui leave, but mysteriously his time inside his cell gets a little more… comfortable? He got a new pair of clean clothes and he’s receiving some decent meals now…? How??

One day Wormmon was feeling jealous of Ken getting some emotional attachment to that prisoner that he does the same thing he had done with Agumon: He opens the cell discreetly while Ken is not around looking at the cameras and lets Rui escape.

The 02 team and the Kaiser showdown happens normally, and Rui just appears in front of the 02 kids between the ep 22 and 24 events. The group catches him by accident because he was wearing a cape and hoodie to not call for peeps' attention and then Takeru immediately remembers seeing a kid who had disappeared mysteriously in the newspapers, way before Ken went insane.

Rui is not aware about that, but he feels like he cannot leave now because of that. The kids wonder what he means by that and he shows them the Digi-eye in his face. It makes them confused and question if he’s indeed human, but he tries to explain (this time) what happened, and that he got captured by the Digimon Kaiser for days and maybe months. The group is in doubt, but Daisuke tells them he trusts Rui. Hikari asks where’s Rui’s partner now and Rui pouts upset: We had a fight and he just vanished. The 02 group decide they should just help Rui to find Ukkomon, but Rui thinks Ukkomon might not want to talk to him anymore and then says Ukkomon was doing things he didn’t want to and didn’t like at all. Iori asks why he didn’t tell Ukkomon that, and Rui shuts in.

The 02 group’s digimon find that strange, because a digimon partner wouldn’t run away like that, right? Daisuke even mentions that Wormmon did not leave Ken’s side and even helped them to beat Chimeramon in order to rescue Ken from himself. The group agree, Ukkomon might still be around. Rui wonders how.

They had to stick along with the kid for a while, at least after school activities. The group ask Agumon and Gabumon to take a look at Rui for them (Rui is not happy with that idea but he has no options left) and then the digimon duo try to keep the boy comfortable. He’s NOT happy though.

Agumon asks what’s wrong and he just sulks, refuses to talk with Agumon or even Gabumon. Piyomon, Palmon, Gomamon and Tentomon come in and try to help the other two digimon to deal with that kid. Rui just keeps hating more and more being there and he wants to go home, but he knows that eye would make people claim he’s a FREAK and maybe things would be even worse now. Sadly, the older six’s digipartners are clueless and don’t feel like they can solve it. And Rui started to just blame the digimon in gen for his misfortune, making the six critters sad. He then just realizes he messed this up with them, and quickly tries to apologize. He tells them that Ukkomon really didn’t know him that well, and didn’t even know what he liked or wanted. Gabumon then says “Are you sure about that?” out of the blue.

Once Rui fell asleep, the six digimon noticed something hiding behind the trees and found Ukkomon, who was invisible this whole time (somehow) and kept protecting Rui in the shadows, though he was still upset with the boy’s statements and behavior. Piyomon asks why did he “leave” Rui behind and Ukkomon vents that he was getting frustrated about what to keep Rui happy and smiling. The other mons look at each other and then back to Ukkomon, who continues “He really needs me but he snapped when I tried to help him before'', making Gomamon comment that “giving your own eye to a human is not going to help him at all” and everyone agree. Ukkomon is unable to understand WHY this is wrong, and they had to say “If Rui slapped his own eye on Ukkomon out of the blue, to help him out, would he like that?” and Ukkomon took a while to give an answer. And the digimon didn’t want to think about a scenario where Rui is literally destroying himself either. But now Rui is mad and he’s having a tough time with that big eye in his face. Ukkomon feels ashamed for going off the rails. Palmon suggests that he go talk with Rui, but… Ukkomon also is bad at communicating so he just shuts in just like Rui.

The digimon reported it to Daisuke and co., and they just think those two need to be in the same room in order to deal with it themselves… But Daisuke refuses to turn his back on Rui and Ukkomon, so he just goes to talk with the boy.

Daisuke asks Rui why he didn’t tell Ukkomon that he didn’t like some things Ukkomon was doing and Rui just feels like he’s getting scolded by his mom. Daisuke continues, “You have to tell what’s bothering you or else nobody will get your feelings right,” and Rui just argues back “If I told Ukkomon he wasn’t helping me at all he would lose his reason to exist.”

The digimon and the kids are confused: Does Rui think the digimon are just servant familiars? Something similar to Ken believing the DW and the digimon were a game?

Rui explains that Ukkomon came to him to make his wishes come true, but his partner had no idea what he likes or needs, so he kept quiet accepting everything like he was used to – His mother was the one to decide his favorite things, and if he said something otherwise she would claim he’s an ungrateful kid. So not even he knows what he needs or what he likes.

Daisuke sighs and then tells Rui that Ukkomon did all of those things because Ukkomon likes him, and doesn’t know how to help him. V-mon sneaks into the convo and asks Rui “Do you know what Ukkomon likes and what he hates anyway?” and it makes Rui just realize something he and Ukkomon were not communicating. Yes he had been watching things by distance and those kids and their digimon had a better understanding of each others’ personalities, likes and dislikes, traits and flaws…Something he and Ukkomon's partnership had been lacking all along.

Ukkomon was hearing that convo, still invisible for them all. A little pouty because he was still hurt by Rui’s actions.  However, the eye made Rui notice Ukkomon was nearby and he called for his digimon. Ukkomon felt no reason to keep hiding and just popped in front of them, still missing his eye. Rui then speaks with his heart for the first time and asks Ukkomon to let them start from zero, and to learn more about each other. Ukkomon agrees, and asks what Rui wishes for and the boy answers he doesn’t need anything else. And Ukkomon in return said he didn’t know how to help Rui and assumed that the boy’s smile meant Rui was happy so he tried to prevent anything bad from happening in order to keep Rui happy and smiling even if it meant to do some… wrong things. The group ask “Which ‘wrong things’??” and Ukkomon reveals he can control people’s minds and had been using it on people. He feared that Rui would hate him, but… Rui was only disappointed that this meant nobody liked him for real.

Ukkomon doesn’t agree with that statement, and thinks there’s people who care and like Rui for real. And then mentioned the digimon they met and the older six’s digimon, also Daisuke and the others right there. Rui takes a moment to agree with that, and then he asks Ukkomon if he could get his eye back. Daisuke asks why Ukkomon gave his eye to Rui before, and Ukkomon says Rui got hurt in the middle of a digimon attack. Miyako suggests them to take Rui to the hospital after Ukkomon “returned” Rui’s injured eye (= he just removed the digi-eye just like magic and the real eye, hidden by the other one, just reappeared in Rui’s face)

The kids and their digimon go back to the human world and then Rui asks to be taken to his relatives instead. Everyone asks why and he says that they are the only ones able to talk with his parents at the moment. Ukkomon offers to use his power on Rui’s parents again, but Rui himself tells Ukkomon to not. He can handle this, he will ask his cousin and her parents to help him out. No one, not even Mr. Ishida argued with him, since they thought it could be a delicate subject that maybe having one or two peeps who care about Rui enough could help there.

Rui gets to talk with his relatives and explain everything to them (with the help of the 02 kids, Taichi, Koushiro and Mr. Ishida, of course, after Rui and Ukkomon explained to them hours ago) and they didn’t know how to break the news that… Rui’s parents had died while he went missing. Rui was in shock, just like all the others who came to give him support, and now they all plus Rui’s relatives were there to help him to deal with the loss. Ukkomon wonders if it was his fault, but he does not tell anyone, and he continues to bottle it up. He wasn’t around to make sure they would be fine… Right? His power wouldn’t be that strong to KILL humans, R I G H T ? !

Rui and Ukkomon get to meet Ken and Wormmon again on ep 39 events. But before that, he and Ukkomon spend their own time trying to get to know each other and find a way to use Ukkomon’s powers for good and not for selfish purposes. Since Ukkomon cannot evolve, they thought it would be better to not get involved with the digimon battles happening around (and again) – Though this made him emotionally exhausted: Why are the digimon trying to attack this world…? Why are they fighting those kids and their partners? Ukkomon himself doesn’t know either, but he believes they could get the answers from his higher-ups.

Rui wonders what kind of higher-ups would Ukkomon have, he just remembers Ukkomon briefly mentioning them before. Ukkomon then suggests going to the DW and looking for Homeostasis’ agents and talking to them. Rui doesn’t know what those agents look like, or why someone would be named ‘Homeostasis’ to begin with. Ukkomon doesn’t know how to answer those questions so he reinforces the idea of going to look for them.

Once they’re on their mission, Rui asks Ukkomon: “Wait, if you’re connected to something greater, couldn’t you simply contact them and call for help?” Ukkomon blinks those big green eyes and admits he didn’t think about that before. Rui glances at him, unamused by that answer.

The truth is, Ukkomon doesn’t know how to call for his higher-ups. But Rui just got a dumb idea of… pressing a few buttons on his digivice. Ukkomon feels this would be hilarious if they could summon someone like that…

And then they casually pass by Gennai, who was heading back from his encounter with Qinglongmon. Yup. Ukkomon and Rui look at each other for a moment, and ask if they did that or not. Ukkomon points out that that ‘human-like’ lifeform is one of Homeostasis’ agents. Rui notices he’s carrying an orb. They follow Gennai but SUDDENLY that ‘person’ disappeared?!

Ukkomon wonders where that agent has gone and Rui thinks maybe they should go home and try another time… Until they spot a long silver haired woman in a dress and purple shades with a tall man in a blue uniform. Ukkomon can definitely sense that woman and man are not… humans at all, and then he and Rui decide to follow them, returning to the human world. 

Huh?! Why were those digimon– Hey, they’re in Tamachi now?? And there’s a digimon running amok. He notices a boy with a familiar digimon before trying to get people out of there and protect themselves, but the Dark Tower prevents Wormmon from evolving and Ken is not very happy with that at all. The wild Triceramon running around and causing havoc hits a traffic pole and it comes into Ken’s direction, BUT! Ukkomon and Rui appear, and Ukkomon uses his tentacles coming from his fingers to catch the pole before it hits Ken. Wormmon immediately recognizes Rui, and Ken’s a little awkward around that kid. Wormmon sees Ukkomon and also recognizes those eyes, but Ukkomon and Rui had no time to explain, nor Ken and Wormmon have time to hear a long story right now. Ken asks Rui to simply escort the people around the area for them, and the other just agrees but says he’s worried about Ken and Wormmon, who just tell him they will be fine.

Rui and Ukkomon then leave the area, searching for anyone else in the middle of Triceramon’s rampage. A few hours later, he and Ukkomon witness a strong and powerful aura coming from the beam hitting something in the area he and Ukkomon were with Ken before, and then they witness Imperialdramon dragon mode for the first time in their lives. 

A few days passed and then Rui did not hear about Daisuke or Ken or the digimon for a while. But he and Ukkomon try contacting the alleged “higher-ups’ Ukkomon talked about. This time they manage to get in touch with Gennai personally and start asking some questions. As usual, not even Gennai or the Holy Beasts know why digimon partnerships are happening, or why the evil digimon are attacking the human world. Rui comments this was pointless, and then he believes it was all his fault because of that wish he made in 1996 on his birthday, Feb 29. Gennai says it’s unlikely to be because of him and that he was just the first of them.

Ukkomon comments about hearing someone saying “something something you’re the first attempt with this experiment” and Rui snaps “So am I a guinea pig for the digi-gods?!” Gennai stares at Ukkomon, and sighs. He explains that it might not mean something in a heartless sense, that the human and digimon partnerships started because of a peculiar encounter of a Koromon and a pair of human siblings prior to 1996. Then, Gennai asks him if he had witnessed a digimon before meeting Ukkomon and Rui takes a moment to think. He then mentions seeing a giant orange dinosaur and a big parrot fighting when he was 3 years old, but he thought it was just a crazy dream he had after watching something before falling asleep. Gennai then reveals that it wasn’t a dream, and that Rui had been chosen as the first to form a bond with a digimon because of it. And that Rui has been observed to be in the need of someone to love and protect him.

He realizes that… Ukkomon did save him from the bad parenting life he was living. He was just a BABY and couldn't even accidentally wet his pants or bed sheets like other kids his age, or reject stuff his mom wanted him to like and claimed to be “his favorite”. Ukkomon agrees, but still feels that using that technique on Rui’s parents might be the reason they had died. Rui tries to tell him it wasn’t his fault, it couldn’t be true, RIGHT?? Ukkomon begs for Rui’s pardon, but the boy still does not get it at all. Gennai then tells Ukkomon to leave it as it is, for better or for worse. Rui also did not get that either.

After talking with Gennai, Rui returns home with Ukkomon and then the news on TV is about a few children disappearing out of nowhere, just like him. He then learns that Ken also went missing before, and mused if it was around the time Ken was the Kaiser. Again, he couldn’t do anything so he only hoped for the best.

It was only when the truck headed to Hikarigaoka that he decided to do something. But he and Ukkomon just witnessed the Jogress digimon sealing Daemon in the Dark Ocean. The police were nearby taking care of the kidnapped kids and the now abandoned truck, so he couldn’t approach that area at all. The only 02 group member Rui and Ukkomon meet is Takeru, who was looking for a safe spot to evolve Patamon into Pegasusmon and head home. Rui asks Takeru what happened and if the kidnapped kids were related to something about the digimon attacks recently and he explains a brief version of the current events. Ukkomon wonders why someone would kidnap children like that.

They later learn, from Daisuke, that the kidnapped children now have digimon data inside their bodies. And then Rui is assigned to keep an eye on one of them who might be from the area where he and his relatives live. With Ukkomon’s unique abilities like sneaking into places or being invisible, Rui could help them to keep watching the dark seed kids, even if he doesn’t understand what’s happening that much.

But he couldn't do much, and in the end his efforts were in vain because of what happened on New Year's Eve. Rui wanted to do more, and he in fact did go to the Digital World for that final battle, and helped them out like the rest of the Chosen Children around the world. But that whole action might have caused a MASS PANIC in the human world because children are disappearing en masse for a few hours?!

BelialVamdemon is beaten, everyone returns home. Fin.

So far this is all I got for it, and idk how to do the post-series stuff (movies and drama CDs) or the Epilogue part so I’ll just stop here for now. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed my dummy Hacker’s Memory-esque idea (or Lion King 1 ½ lol) and I might draw more stuff with this whole setting. (☞ﾟヮﾟ)☞

[justmeinabigolworld]

You wanna know why I love middle grade books so much compared to YA?

One, they feel much more optimistic than YA, and more likely to try new, off-the-wall things

And two…

They don’t have all that gratuitous romance. Like, I already don’t read a huge chunk of YA books because they’re pure romance, and even in the books that aren’t explicitly about romance, there’s romance. Just when you think you’re safe, it pops up.

Oh, look! A fantasy book with a creative setting and a female protagonist! I’m gonna read it! Okay…good so far…wait, there’s this guy…oh, I don’t like where this is going…aaaaaaand they kissed. And the guy tends to be awful, too. Really mean to the protagonist, but she loves him anyway, because…she has to. It’s YA. I mean, sometimes the guy is fine, but sometimes he’s a piece of shit.

It’s like there’s some kind of law stating that all YA with a female protagonist must give her a love interest, complete with an angsty romance subplot, no matter what the story is about or how much (or little) it fits with the actual plot.

And you know what? I’m seeing more books that give the heroine a female love interest, which is great, even though that means the book has to be marketed as a “queer book” (so as not to upset the homophobes who would otherwise pick up the book or whatever). Still, a love interest is a love interest, and even though I enjoy seeing more queer representation these days, what I’d enjoy even more is a YA section that’s not dominated by romance.

Come on, people. We teens aren’t that horny. Not every book needs romance. Like, with how prevalent love interests are in teen fiction, why are you guys surprised that teens feel bad for having never kissed anyone? Hell, I’ve never kissed anyone, and I’m 19 at the time of writing this. Do I feel like a loser? Yes. Is it because of teen media? Yes…and it’s also due to seeing my classmates in relationships and feeling bad in comparison, but shush.

Also, this is gonna sound weird coming from a girl, but I’d like to read more YA with male protagonists. Everything seems to be about girls these days, and it’s good to have female protagonists, but let’s not leave guys out. As a plus, they have less of a chance of having a love interest. Hooray.

Seriously, though, not every girl constantly thinks about romance, and not every girl wants to read about it. Okay?

Hell, who am I even talking to? It’s not like the publishers are gonna listen to me.

But, uh, yeah. Read middle grade, it’s awesome. I’ve got some recommendations if you’d like.

I’ll probably make a post that’s just a list of good middle grade books and series, but here are a few:

The Thickety by J.A. White: really good dark fantasy, stuff that would even disturb adults, great worldbuilding and characters, and yes, there’s a love interest, but there isn’t much of a romance element. Feels really unique.

How to Train Your Dragon by Cressida Cowell: yes, it was a series before it was a movie, and yes, the books are better. Very different from the movies, but that’s not a bad thing. The series gets darker as it moves along and Hiccup grows up, and things the characters took for granted are looked at with a more critical eye. Really interesting.

My Life With the Liars by Caela Carter: a book about a girl who grew up in a cult. Every time I read it, it gets more disturbing because I realize things that a younger me didn’t. Still, the book is more about Zylynn’s trauma and how she begins to heal and reach out, even as her worldview crumbles.

The Secret Series by Pseudonymous Bosch: witty, charming, and secret! Apparently, some people find the author’s frequent asides and footnotes to be annoying, but I love them. The sequel trilogy isn’t nearly as good, though.

Okay, that’s it for now. I hope at least some of you can understand my frustration, and I hope you’ll check out these books!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Flashback

Epilogue for Sweet Treats AU: by character | chronological | epilogues

Warnings: these drabbles will include dark elements such as noncon, control, intimidation, and other stuff that may not be specified. Take this as you chance to scroll by.

Please let me know what you think <3

🍫🍫🍫

You’re not sure at first. You think it’s paranoia or maybe some waking dream fueled by your lack of sleep. Then the door shuts and assures you of your sanity. It’s real.

You sigh and get up. The small apartment above the cafe isn’t much. Birdy sleeps on the couch as you and Candy share the single bedroom. A roof is a roof and any is better than the prison that came before.

“Urmf,” Candy mumbles groggily as she rolls over on her futon, “sup, Coca Cola?”

You shake your head at the nickname and pull on a hoodie. The one with the plush lining. Bucky didn’t let you wear those. Fuck him, you’re a jeans and sweats girl all the way. Not whatever he made you into.

“Nothing, I’m just gonna pop out and get some air.”

“I shouldn’t have had extra peppers, huh,” she kids and drapes her arm over eyes.

You chuckle and head for the door, “I’ll be back, One of us needs to sleep, right?”

You leave her, pulling the door shut gently. You cross to the couch, the front room completely dark. There’s a lump on the couch, wrapped in a quilt. You poke the bunch of cushions and blow out a raspberry. Fuck.

You keep your steps light, not wanting to alarm Candy. You tuck your feet into your boots and pull on a jacket. You hurry out and down the stairs, coming out to a dead winter night. Shit. Is it Bucky’s voice you hear in your head? It sounds like it sometimes.

You spin, searching around desperately. Her footsteps disappear on the shoveled walks, the dusting of snow barely enough to give away her path. Birdy, what are you up to?

You walk to the end of the street and peer down the next. You retrace your steps and go to the next corner. You told her how many times, never go anywhere alone without telling me or Candy.

“Lose something?” A voice rips you out of your worry.

You turn to face the ghost of your husband. A different man but all too similar in his bearing. Stood beneath the cone of a streetlight, his face is limned in eerily familiar lines. Your eyes flick down to his hand, just to make sure. The arm is real, it’s not him.

“No,” you lie bluntly and tuck your hands into your pockets.

“You sure? I saw your friend go that way,” he points across the street.

“She’s an adult. She can go where she wants.”

He snorts and rubs his cheeks, trying to warm them in the nip of the evening. You narrow your eyes but don’t ask the question gnawing at you. Just ignore him. He’ll go away.

“What are you doing out here then?” he asks what you refuse to utter.

“None of your concern,” you roll your eyes.

“You’re a bad liar. I can see right through you,” he chides.

You freeze and not for the crisp chill all around. Those words, an echo of the past. Bucky’s timbre tickles in your memory and sets a patch of goosebumps across your nape. You shudder and try to shake it off.

“Cold?” He wonders.

You look away, slowly pivoting on your back heel, “you have a good night, sir.”

“Nick,” he corrects you, “I still haven’t got your name, actually?”

“I’d prefer we stay strangers.”

“Small town for strangers.”

“Look,” you stop and put your hand on your hip as you glare at him over your shoulder, “I have friends. I don’t need any more. Go on to your cottage, there’s nothing in this town for you.”

“You know, I thought the same, then I saw you, angel,” he chuckles, “you got the kind of bite that makes a man want to be eaten up.”

“And you have the lines that make a woman want to gag.”

“You can gag all you want, as long as you swallow it all down.”

“You’re disgusting,” you retort and turn completely, strutting away.

“And you’re sexy as fuck,” he calls after you, “oh, before you run off to dream of me, what’s the special tomorrow? I was thinking of having a nice treat for my breakfast.”

You don’t answer him, only raising your hand to shoot him the finger over your shoulder, just as you pass beneath a lamp so you know he sees. You hear him laughing and stifle another shiver. The resemblance is just as evident in his voice, you can’t help but hear Bucky and his mocking snickers.

‘Whatsa matter, Coco? You gonna cry?’

You blow out a cloud as you reach your stoop. Don’t look back. You let yourself inside and quickly lock the door. Bucky’s taunts echoing as if you’ve opened Pandora’s box. You lean on the wood and gripped your head.

Damnit! Where the fuck is Birdy?

[onceuponanaromantic]

they hear salt crystallising

(Written for @flashfictionfridayofficial's prompt FFF262: Run Far and Fast. Enjoy!)

In the darkness, as she felt the freezing begin, it asks for her name. She gives it.

            The sea does not abide by temples or castles, nor kings or queens. She is a rule unto herself, but those who dwell within the planes know better than to think she can ever be ruled. She has lasted longer than any plane, and she will outlast them all.

            There are few she favours. There is a woman now, who was once a girl who stepped beyond the shore into the sea. The sea knows potential, knows it like she knows those whose blood stain her waters. The sea knows grief, the way that tears and saltwater are the same. The sea knows loneliness and more than that, she knows how to pull people with interesting talents into her waters.

            Come home. When you’re tired of being looked at and not seen, come to the water.

            I have use for one like you, who sees beyond light.

            They call her Lady, in recognition of her place in both the human world and the fae court. A human who could touch the elements themselves, who could see beyond seeing.

            She had a liar made out of her once. A promise she swore upon her own name, broken by forces beyond her control.

            Her hair drifts around her face as she sits in an open cavern, food half-eaten in front of her. The skin of her jaw is still firm, despite the decades. A shadow creeps along the walls, wrapping fingers around her neck.

            The fingers run down her spine.

            “Lady, oh Lady, what are you thinking now?” The woman closes her eyes.

            “What makes you think I’m thinking? It might be nothing.” The ghost steps out of the depths, as her shadow gets swatted away.

            “Because I saw you sketching plans for a magical system big enough to sustain the faerie again? And I know you haven’t done anything, because you promised to play with the children yesterday and I caught you working.”

            “I already said I was sorry about that,” the woman sighs, but the ghost cuts her off.

            “I know.” the ghost says, her sunken eyes meeting the woman’s. “Was there any truth to the idea that you miss them?”

            “It’s complicated. I was very young when I left.”

            “Go.” The spirit said, silver blood spiling from her ribs. “You have to go, now.”

            “I can’t leave you.” She begged, “I can’t.”

            “They don’t like you. I can’t take you. I can’t protect you.”

            “I’m the only one who knows how to rewrite the wards!”

            “I don’t care!” The spirit said, “I don’t care. They will come for you. You can’t bind your magic away forever. You have to go somewhere they can’t find you.”

            She fell to her knees, trying her best to stem the bleeding. The spirit coughed, looking up at the storm cloud closing in. “I can’t leave you here. They’ll know. They know-“

            “Run. Run far and fast.” The spirit looked up with eyes that no longer had a pupil, features dissipating with every sharp movement. “I have been selfish for too long. Let me do this.”

            She hesitated.

            “Go!”

            “I’ll be back. I promise. I will come back before the city falls apart. I swear on my own name.”

            “I was very selfish once upon a time.”

            The storm clouds burned. A spirit pulled on a Name, pulling a human girl back to life from where her body lay on the beach.

            Somewhere, the demon Queen of Night was demanding retribution for the death of a human by the hands of the faerie.

            “Don’t blame yourself for thing that aren’t your fault.”

            The ghost flips through the waters, walking around. She had died early, swimming out to the boats, but Lady was even older than her. They all know the rumours, after all. Lady had been a child when the sea had seen her alone. The sea had offered her secrets, and she had heard them. Lady was once from the humans, before becoming divine.

            Lady sits by the table, running her fingers over the checkerboard pattern, letting the light of it shine through her fingertips as she tapped them.

            It only made sense after Lady told her the story of a demon who had seen her speaking the language of the faerie in the woods and demanded that she come back with her as proof that humans could speak the language of the fae.

            “What was it like?”

            “I got lucky.”

            “What happened to the demon?”

            Her eyes darkened, and the ghost felt her heart wrench. “She fought the faerie on her own. She believed my death was their fault.”

            “Who won?”

            “I don’t think anyone won that battle. Not at the end of it all.”

            The sunlight trickled in through the sea water. Somewhere above, it was winter, and the opening to the human world was coated in a thin layer of ice.

            The ghost looked at her friend. “You are a liar, aren’t you? You lied when you told the sea that you didn’t know.”

            “I am.”

            “You know why the faerie collapsed on themselves.”

            “I do.” Lady looked at her. “How did you figure it out?”

            A spirit stepped out into the open waters. No longer dressed in the open court attire of the faerie, hair dark and long as any of the true drowned were.

            “Hello, sea witch.” An old friend. One who had sacrificed themselves to save her in another life. Reincarnated as a human and having thrown themselves in the sea. “I’m glad to see you made a good life for yourself here.”

            You can’t fix the dead. The sea knew that better than anyone. What she did was take their secrets and their fury and grief, and offer them revenge.

            What need does humanity have for a spirit? What need do the spirits have for a human who sees and creates more than she should?

            But the sea had need for a witch.

And so, when it asks for her name, she gave it.