#cause she kept bringing it up like she wanted a reason to fight or break down

[yoohyeon]

If my parents learned how to apologize, 90% of the fight we have wouldn’t happen….

[morganski-19]

Chills Right to the Marrow Part 17

part 1, prev part

Wayne’s hands are clenched so hard they’re starting to hurt. Wrapped around the wrist of burning anger. His nephew’s eyes boring into his soul, filled with confusion. Resentment and fear.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Eddie was supposed to wake up slowly. Calmly. Surrounded by people he loved. Bringing him back into a world he was almost lost to. There were going to be questions, there were going to be answers. But, anger, Wayne was refusing to believe it.

“Son, calm down,” he tries to reason with the anger in Eddie’s eyes. “You’re not in danger here.”

Eddie’s eyes blink blankly. As his nostrils flare with struggled breaths. Arm pulling away from Wayne’s, trying to break free.

“Fuck you,” he mutters. With all the energy in his soul. Taking everything to insult instead of praise.

In his heart, Wayne knows that these words aren’t true. That the confusion and pain is lacing Eddie’s speech. Keeping him from seeing things properly. Keeping him from reducing that instinct deep in his mind to run and fight.  

Eddie’s always been a runner, ever since he was a kid. Ran away from home all the time to get away from the world. To the woods, to the quarry. Any place where he could get some peace and quiet from the taunts and threats. Where it was just him and his mind, however restless they were. Where he could forget about it all for a while.

It wasn’t a surprise to Wayne that Eddie ran that night. He would have done the same thing. But part of Wayne wishes that Eddie had come to him. So they could figure it all out together. Make a plan that could have saved him from this tormented state. Kept him alive without this ongoing pain.

He sees it in the way Eddie becomes so exhausted from the fight that he falls asleep. Arm finally laying to rest in Wayne’s grip. Body relaxing and returning to the peace Wayne craves for him. Not knowing how much of it will come in the future.

The nurse reinserts the IV into Eddie’s arm. As he pulled it out shortly after gaining consciousness. Scared by the hospital setting. By Wayne. By everything.

Eddie isn’t awake quite yet, Wayne tells himself. There is no way his boy could be awake and angry at him like this. He doesn’t want to believe it.

“Why don’t we talk outside,” the nurse says to him kindly. Sharing a small piece of sympathy with him.

Wayne stands without wanting to. Part of himself glued to that chair, forever stuck in that moment. Where the kind eyes he’s raised were hidden away.

“I am truly sorry for what you just saw, I’m sure it was jarring.”

All Wayne can do is cross his arms and nod. Listening carefully to the nurse with his eyes fixed on the door’s window.

“This form of anger and confusion is not uncommon for patients waking from a coma. Often times, they experience a form of amnesia that takes away the memories right before they came here. And after the brain loses consciousness for as long as Eddie’s has, it can cause more confusion than answers. He doesn’t mean what he says and does, it’s just his body’s response.”

“This amnesia,” Wayne swallows. “How long will it last?”

The nurse makes a sorry expression. “It varies. For some patients, only a few hours, for others, a few days. But now that Eddie’s awake, he’s been healing much faster than the doctor first anticipated. I have no doubt that it will pass soon.”

Wayne nods, thanking the nurse for her time. She leaves him standing in front of the door. Wagering how much pain his heart can take today, and whether he can stand to sit in that chair any longer.

His feet lead him to the payphone. Pulling out just enough quarters for one call, and a crumbled piece of paper with a number scrawled on it. The ringing in the phone reminding him of the sounds outside his head.

“Yeah.” The voice on the phone greets.

“Is this Jim? It’s Wayne. Munson.”

There’s a slight chuckle across the line. “I know who you are, Wayne. Yeah, it’s me. How can I help you?”

“I’m not quite sure. Don’t quite know what’s goin’ on, or why I called you. Just needed some company, I guess.”

“How about you come over to my place,” Jim says after a pause. “If that’s alright with you. We can have a chat with a change of scenery.”

Wayne lets out a shaky breath. “I think that would be nice.”

Jim relays his address before hanging up the phone. Wayne repeating it under his breath as he drives. Not wanting to forget it. The gas light blinking at him as it crawls towards empty. He can’t think about that now. There are already too many things on his plate.

A woman with a warm, inviting smile answers the door. Invites Wayne into the house with the promise of a cup of coffee, leading him to the back yard. Where Jim sits on a chair mismatched from the others. Staring off into the woods.

“Have a seat,” Jim offers with a cigarette.

Wayne takes it with more indulgence than should be necessary. His empty pack still burning a hole in his pocket.

“The weather’s been really nice these last few days, starting to really warm up.”

Wayne releases a long breath, letting the smoke fill the air in front of him. “I guess so.”

He hasn’t really taken notice.

“You meet Joyce?”

Wayne nods.

“Thing is between the two of us,” Jim motions back to the house. “Is that we both know what it’s like to have a kid go through all this hospital bullshit. We know the kind of pain that it brings, seeing them hurting and being helpless to it. It���s not something you’re alone in.”

That doesn’t stop him from feeling alone. Like he’s walking a path rocky and untamed. Vulnerable in ways he’s not used to and afraid to be. Wanting to be the strong pillar for those around him, but cracking in the foundation.

The grass crushes under footsteps as Joyce approaches. Places the mug on the table with stolen diner sugar packets and creamers.

“I didn’t know how you liked it, so I brought options.” She sits beside Jim, folding her hands in her lap. “I heard about Eddie. I’m so sorry. It’s terrible that he’s going through this.”

Wayne nods, staring at the table. “Yeah. Yeah, it is.”

“When my Will first went missing, it was the worst day of my life,” Joyce continues. Bringing her own experience to the table. “I didn’t know where he was, or if he was hurt. How he was going to be when he got back. It’s something I would wish on no parent. At any age.”

There’s this anger that wants to block out what she’s saying. Scream that she doesn’t know his situation. Doesn’t know the pain he’s in. How could she, his situation was unique to him.

But so is hers. And so is Jim’s. And Wayne’s eyes are fixed on a cup of coffee and a cigarette given in kindness. An offering of help for someone who is too proud to ask for it. To admit that this is breaking him.

“Seeing him so weak in that hospital bed,” Joyce speaks through quiet tears. “It was so hard. Seeing him so changed, fighting to stay the same boy that he was before. Knowing that he saw things that I couldn’t even imagine.”

Maybe it was easier to break with people who bear their cracks so openly. Share vulnerabilities so Wayne can be vulnerable too.

“I know what you mean.” Wayne wants to recoil when he hears the wetness in his voice. But he continues. Wanting the burden to be shared so he can breathe a little easier. “Seein’ him today, so full of confusion and fear, it broke me.

“Is he starting to wake up?” Jim asks, genuinely.

Wayne nods, ripping open the sugar packets with shaky hands. “Slowly. I thought it would make it all easier, but it’s not. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to recover from this.”

“You will,” Jim speaks with hardened certainty. “Over time, you’ll start to heal. Forget the pain of the moment. But the real pain, the memories of their faces through all of this, those never quite leave. You just learn to give them less hold over you.”

Joyce reaches and grabs Jim’s hand, threading their fingers together and comforting him. “What matters is that you don’t have to go through this alone. We’re the only people our age who know what really happened, what these kids had to go through. Some of it we don’t. But we make a point to be there for each other, that includes you. It includes Eddie.”

“I appreciate that.”

Wayne lets the coffee cool in his hands. The conversation resulting in silence. Letting the sounds of the forest overtake them. Letting the fresh air travel through their lungs. Wayne finding peace with the forest in front of him. Watching as the birds circle and chirp as the light starts to dim. Returning to their homes for the night.

He knows it’s time to return to his own. Leave Jim and Joyce to their night and stop being a bother. But his home is still a shitty motel that he’s racking the bill up on. Trying to pay as much off as possible when his checks come in, but it’s slim pickings.

And he’s so tired of the isolation. Relaxing into the comforting feeling of sitting in silent company. Or by sitting next to anyone at all. The kindness of somewhat strangers makes Wayne feel more at home than he has in weeks.

Somehow, he ends up inside with a plate of leftovers in front of him. And then on the pull-out couch for the night. Falling in a deep sleep, where he tries to ignore it all for just a few hours. Let his body rest the way it needs.

next part

Note: I'm back! Thanks for being patient during my little break there, I needed it. But I'm back in action and (for once) a little ahead in my writing. We'll see how long it lasts, but it's good for now. Double note: I think that conversation between Jim, Wayne, and Joyce is one of my favorite ones I've written for this fic.

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[yaut-jaknowit]

Okay but now I started thinking on how would an argument with Gawtin go? Also, glad to be back to pester you💪

An Argument with Gawtin

Pairing: Gawtin (Female Yautja) x GN!Reader

Word Count: 1247 (Couldn't help it)

Summary: Like dominos falling in line, things build up until the dam can't handle it. The stress, the cracks. The two of you are a tornado, feeding off of each other.

Author Note: I decided to do this a little different than I usual do this. I have off feelings about angst, like arguments and you might see it here. To be honest, Gawtin doesn't get anger often, rarely at all. Thank you Kissmyaft! I love it when you come to give me phenomenal ideas such as this!

P.s. I decided to create a Kofi since I believe my page has grown to a reasonable amount. If you want tip or buy me a coffee, you're more than welcome to. If you don't want to, that's okay! I make my content free because I know the frustrations when the good shit is hidden behind paywalls. My Kofi link is on my Masterlist page

Masterlist

Ao3

Part 2

Honestly, Gawtin and Reader don’t fight very often. Some disagreements, of course. Some miscommunications. We are talking about two different species, cultures.

But Gawtin doesn’t like to feed into anger. She, like most other females, are cooler minded than their male counterparts. They know how to discuss their issues than result to straight violence. Fights do break out when no one can’t come to an agreement. Nothing that could kill the other though.

When an argument happens, it’s when both are at end of their lines. Gawtin is stressed out from Qui’oky or something with the village. She brings it home with her unfortunately.

Reader has had some trouble still adapting to the new planet or being homesick or worrying over Gawtin. That sets off Gawtin even more. The two of them feeding on each other’s energy.

Reader wants to be left alone, unsure if someone around will help them. In the heat of the moment, words are exchanged. Unfortunately.

Gawtin, no matter how enraged she ever becomes will never, ever, hit you. Yes, for Yautjas, fighting and violence is normal. But you aren’t Yautja. You are weaker than her. It’s just fact. She’s okay with that.

“Can you just fuck off already?” you snapped when Gawtin entered your art room. The door had slid back to reveal the hulking green form that made up Gawtin. Her purple eyes pinned on you sitting at your desk, trying to distract yourself.

Like two demons feeding on each other, you consumed the other’s energy. Like a tornado starting to form or even a hurricane. She had arrived home, pissed off. Someone had gotten under her skin and caused her to be a raging bitch currently. As her wonderful mate, you wanted nothing more to rid her of this unease.

But she just threw it all back in your face.

Qui’oky was set down for a cranky nap in Gawtin’s room. Poor thing sounded tired from missing a nap from this morning. He kept fussing for a bit. Since you knew Gawtin wasn’t wanting to speak with you when she dismissed you harshly, you just went to hide away in your art room. The safe haven that she had gifted to you once she took notice of your skill of wielding a pencil.

A gruff scoff met your ears. You huffed with a roll of your eyes but kept your sight on the blank page before you. It felt not only was that taunting you but Gawtin too. She had to come in here after dismissing you. Didn’t just say she didn’t want you around her and to go away? Dismissed like a measly pet.

“All you do is whine,” she grunted back at you. You head whipped up, back still towards the Yautja. Your nostrils flared in an attempt not to spin around give a piece of your mind. All the shit she’s made you put up with from the first day you met her in that damn forest. For all that you cared for, you could’ve just left her to bleed out! Or let the fucking soldiers take her!

Instantly, you felt regret at the thought and tried to calm yourself down. That didn’t stop the need to cry rise up inside of you.

“Well, you ruined fucking everything in my normal life,” you returned fire, hand grasping the pencil. The wood groaned at the pressure. Your knuckles turning white.

Another scoff. Soft, pitter-patter of feet glided across the floor until the beast was hovering behind you. Her blazing heat boring down on your hunched over form. “Ruined? I’ve given you everything as my mate. How have I ruined ‘everything’?”

A massive palm was placed on the small open space on the desk. This allowed her to bend her body more over you, blanketing you in her shadow. The pencil creaked again. “By taking me here! I don’t belong here. You took me from everything. My home. My family. My friends.”

“I think you are misremembering things, ooman. It was your choice to come with me. You saved me, I could not kill you after I owe you my life and Qui’oky. Why are you so angry?” she growled, nails digging into the wood of your table. That seemed to tick you off more. She was destroying your things.

“I have a right to be angry! You ruined everything. My life is forever stuck here because of you. I’ll die here, on a planet so far from home,” you bite out then finally whipped around in your chair to face her. Gawtin did not move. She stayed sturdy like an oak tree. You bumped into her only to be knocked against your table. It was the only thing holding you up. That didn’t stop you from glaring the Yautja right in the eye and baring your teeth. Something you learned from your time in her culture.

Her mandibles bristled at the sight. A growl starting deep in her chest as she glared down at your unwavering form. “Then, go back. Leave. Go back. Go back home.” That last word was spat out with such disgust, spit hitting your face.

Realization smacked you harder, harder than anyone or thing could. Words said in the heat of the moment but she was telling you to leave. This wasn’t your home, not in her eyes. And that hurt. You felt the way your chest tightened and twisted like a serrated knife lodged there. Tears, hot and burning pooled in your eyes, throat threatening to close up.

Gawtin grunted and leaned down so close her mandibles barely brushed against your cheeks. “Are you going to cry now?” she mocked with a look of distain on her alien face. When you took a deep breath in to cool your nerves, your breath hitched, catching on the lump building in your throat. By god, you were on the verge of breaking down right in front of her.

Something you refused to do. You steeled your nerves, stood up, shoulders back, and got impossibly closer to her face. An act she wasn’t expecting. “Get out.” She raised her gem-studded brow. “Get out!” you shouted at Gawtin, full force. This was your area, your space, your safe haven in this fucked up world you’ve been brought to. Somewhere to go.

Chittering cries echoed out in the hall. Shit. Your breath hitched. Qui’oky had been awoken by your yelling. Guilt dripped into your veins at the sound of his crying. Gawtin huffed that ended in a throaty growl before standing up and marching out of the room.

Once the door slid closed behind her, your whole body nearly went completely lax. Anger still simmered beneath your skin. Yet, sorrow followed in its wake. You bowed your head to calm yourself before plopping down in your seat. The chair squeaking at the new weight. You hated arguing. With her of all people too.

In your hand, you let the pencil go. It’s now shattered pieces falling onto the wooden table. You groaned and placed your head in your hands, fretting over how to fix this.

Hot, fresh tears wettened the wood underneath you. ‘Go back home.’ You flinched as Gawtin’s words echoed back at you in the silence of your room. Qui’oky’s voice barely coming through the door. You clutched your hair at the thought of her not wanting you anymore. Had you just ruined everything?

Heh, it wasn’t her that ruined everything. No. You just did that.

[milfjuulpod]

hi!! can you do one of melissa x fem reader where reader just started teaching at abbott and melissa develops feelings pretty quickly after they become really close, but doesn’t know reader is dating someone. until reader’s partner starts visiting her at work & melissa gets jealous. little does melissa know that reader likes her back & wants to leave her partner cause they’re kinda shitty to her or whatever you think works best!! and with melissa & reader eventually getting together:)

i’m terrible at explaining skdjfhd but i hope it’s good enough!!! i love your work btw!!!<3

She’s Not You

summary: see req

content/warnings: heavy cursing, hinting at emotional abuse, fluff in the end tho duh

a/n: hello :p thank you for sending a req and for the kind words 🥺 i could cry. i hope you like this, i am not too happy with it so maybe i’ll revisit this prompt but for now, here u are! much love 🫶

Abbott Elementary quickly became your safe haven. After landing a job as a third grade teacher, you’ve gone from just another face to part of the family. Particularly, with Melissa Schemmenti. Your job opening was actually because of Melissa. Her meshed second and third grade classes proved to be too much for even Melissa and an aid, and somehow the driven teacher found money through the district to hire you.

Both you and Melissa felt indebted to each other, her basically giving you the job, and you saving her from the worst year of teaching yet. At least, that’s what the two of you kept telling yourselves. I’m just returning the favor.

That’s why Melissa offered to show you how to cook, why you invited her over to show her some cult classic movies, why the two of you became…close, to say the least. Even though the two of you shared some intimate moments, you never shared many intimate details. It wasn’t until your partner of three years started coming to your work that you realized you had never shared that part of your life with Melissa.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to tell Melissa more about your life, you wanted to badly. But, you were afraid. The relationship between you and your partner was less than, in your eyes. Of course at the beginning it was all roses and smiles and kisses and whispers, but slowly the facade dropped, and you slowly began to meet the person you had dedicated way too much of your personal life to.

You knew the only reason Heather, your girlfriend, was coming by to work was because she didn’t have enough control. She noticed how much happier you were, how you were thriving. And since it wasn’t coming from Heather herself, she needed that to change.

The first time she came by, it was unannounced. You sat in the break room, in your usual spot a little too close to Melissa, the two of you working on a crossword together. Your thoughts of the clues were interrupted by a familiar voice that made your blood run cold. “Hey baby, happy to see me?” Heather announced herself to the room. You blinked a few times to ensure you weren’t dreaming, missing Melissa throw Heather the nastiest glare she could.

“Oh my god, what are you doing here?” You asked Heather with a small smile, although you were secretly worried about her true intentions. She decided to make herself comfortable and pull up a chair next to you. Everyone else in the break room simply stared, worried for the girl who was unknowingly digging a deeper and deeper hole with the Italian teacher sitting a foot away from her.

“I missed you, wanted to bring you lunch. You didn’t eat breakfast this morning, or grab the coffee I made you. I woke up early for that, y’know,” she said to you, plopping the bag of food in front of you. To an outsider, it might’ve seemed like light teasing between a comfortable couple. But you knew that tone. The tone that meant she was going to bring this up later, start a fight, and then make it up to you before you could change your mind about finally leaving.

You muttered a quiet “thanks,” and took the food in your hand. “Why don’t I show you my classroom?” Before Heather could respond, you were out of your seat and guiding the two of you to the door.

“Who was that?” Barbara asked the room, although she gave pointed eyes to Melissa, knowing the two of you had grown close rather quickly. Melissa on the other hand, was angrily staring at the crossword in front of her. How dare this stranger come and interrupt the time she treasured with you, taking you away and-

Then she remembered the pet name, the mention of breakfast and coffee, and the dots connected. You had a girlfriend. A girlfriend Melissa knew absolutely nothing about. She didn’t even know you liked women. Sure, she had her suspicions, after all you weren’t very subtle about it. But you never opened up to Melissa about it, the loving of women or the girl you had already loved, and that made Melissa’s heart shatter more than she felt she could physically handle.

The redhead abruptly stood up from her seat and started gathering her things. She could not be around others right now, not in this emotional state. Melissa knew she had a crush on you, she just didn’t think it was this bad. To the point of making the usual hard-shelled woman fall to pieces at the sight of you with somebody else. In her haste exit, Melissa missed the many friends she had calling out to her, she couldn’t hear anything other than the thousands of thoughts in her head.

“Fuck,” Melissa muttered to herself, leaning against the wall in the hallway. She covered her face in her hands, hoping it would stop the tears from leaving her green eyes. She did her best to quickly pull herself together before anyone saw, and made the walk back to her classroom. Of course, she had to pass your room to get to her own. The sight of your classroom door made Melissa’s stomach turn. Usually it was because of butterflies, and now dread. She felt sick.

As she got closer, she could hear voices coming from inside. Melissa stood still for a moment, debating whether or not she truly wanted to know what was being said in there. Against her brain telling her to do otherwise, Melissa creeped towards your door, trying her best to listen for conversation.

“I make you coffee and you don’t drink it, I bring you lunch and you don’t eat it, what the fuck is your problem? Do you have no appreciation for those around you? Are you that fucked up?” The voice from earlier could be heard through the door. Melissa was shocked, angry, jealous, all rolled up into one storm. Which would explain why she swung open your door before she could tell herself no.

“Who are you? We’re having a conversation.” Heather spat at Melissa immediately. Before answering, Melissa glanced towards you. She had never seen you in such a fragile state. Sitting in your desk chair, in the dark, with so much fear in your eyes somebody might think your life was being threatened. “It’s a need to know basis kid, and you don’t need to know. Could I steal my friend for a minute?” Melissa asked, even though she was already taking your hand in hers and walking out the door with you.

She didn’t stop once she left your classroom either, not until she made it to the steps outside of the building. Melissa looked into your eyes for something, anything at this point. But you just sighed and looked away. “Please don’t yell at me, Mel,” you said quietly. You were ready for your friend to tear you apart for hiding your girlfriend and for letting her speak to you that way. “Yell at you? Honey…” Melissa said. She pulled you back close to her and wrapped her arms tightly around your body.

Quietly, you cried into her. You couldn’t help it, Melissa made you feel safe, and that wasn’t a luxury you could frequently afford. “She just…” You started, trying to explain everything to the woman who was trying to take care of you. “I can’t do it anymore Melissa. I’m sorry I never told you about her, or the fact I like women. It’s not that I didn’t want to, please don’t think that I just–” You stopped, lifting your head from Melissa’s shoulder to finally meet her gaze again. “I didn’t want you to see how small she makes me feel. I know I shouldn’t be with her, I just don’t know anything else. Not unless I’m with you but, I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore,” you finally finished with a heavy sigh.

Melissa took a moment to respond, gently rubbing your back and taking a second to absorb everything you had just told her and everything she heard. “I know its easier said than done, but you and I both know you deserve better than that crazy ass bitch back in that classroom,” She gestured with her head to the door. You noticed the venom in her voice as she referred to your girlfriend once again, and if her eyes weren't the most beautiful shade of green, they would be red with anger. “I don’t know Mel…” you trailed off.

She scoffed, tightening her grip around your waist, and you tried your best to ignore the warmth growing in your chest. “Well I know. I know you should be with somebody who actually cares about you, who notices all the stupid cute habits you do all day and loves them, you deserve somebody who will give you that,” Melissa said honestly, more honest than she would have liked to be. You couldn't help the smile that formed on your face, touched by the woman’s words. “Maybe I’ll find them one day,” You said, starting to walk back inside with Melissa. “But I don’t think I’ll find anybody who loves me quite like you do Mel.” Melissa’s heart jumped at that. “I don’t think you will either, sweetheart.”

———

The weeks following that first incident were strange to say the least. The air between you and Melissa became tense, like both of you had something to say but just couldn’t. Or rather, wouldn’t. The few times Heather popped by again, Melissa would always leave without a word. No goodbye to you or the others, and you quickly learned that for whatever reason, she had a hard time coming back to life after seeing Heather. You blamed it on her protective nature, simple explanation.

It wasn't until Heather had actually stopped coming around that Melissa spoke of the girlfriend without being prompted. The two of you sat alone in her classroom, grading papers before the weekend. “So, are things going any better with…y’know? Haven't seen her around much,” Melissa said without looking up from her papers. “Actually, she moved out. Last weekend. I was going to tell you I just, needed time, I guess,” You answered, looking up at Melissa, trying to read her mind through her eyes.

At first, they lit up, before Melissa could pull herself back together. “Well its about time you kicked her sorry ass to the curb. Nobody treats cuore mia like that,” She said, watching in real time how you melted at her words. “I- What?” you giggled out of confusion. Melissa returned to her gaze to her papers and quietly said, “my heart.” Your cheeks grew hot and you found your breath quickening, both at Melissa calling you such a sweet name, and the Italian she spoke it in. It was this moment that the puzzle pieces started fitting together in your head. Why Melissa was so angry and upset with Heather, and why you always preferred Melissa’s company anyways. The two of you were practically in love.

“If you want to call me pet names, at least do it in English so I know what you’re saying,” You lied to her. You couldn’t have her speaking in Italian to you, but not because it bothered you. In fact it had quite the opposite effect. “What, you don’t like when I speak Italian? Besides, you’ll learn soon enough dolcezza mia,” Melissa cooed, leaning over the edge of her desk to get closer to your face. If you could, you would kiss her right then and there.

So you did. Before you could talk yourself out of it, you cupped Melissa’s cheek and pulled her lips onto yours. Both of you were surprised at the sudden move, but neither pulled away. It was gentle, Melissa stroked the back of your head as she pulled you into her as well. She ran her fingers through your hair and used her position to lightly pull you away from her. “I’m sorry.” You both said at the same time before giggling like children. “Why are you sorry?” Melissa asked. “For kissing you, without asking. Why are you sorry?” You simultaneously answered and questioned her. “For kissing you back, I don’t want to take advantage of you,” Melissa said quietly, suddenly deflating.

You took her hand in yours, gently rubbing her knuckles with your thumb. “Melissa, you’re a very intelligent woman, but you’re acting like an idiot,” You laughed as Melissa furrowed her brows at you. “I kissed you, Mel. I wanted to kiss you I want to kiss you all the time, I didn’t realize until after you started helping me with…you know who,” Both of you grimaced at the mention of your ex. “Everything she should’ve been making me feel, is how you make me feel every day. And I’m sorry it took me so long to realize that,” You told Melissa truthfully. The grip on your hand tightened as she took in your words. “God, come here you,” Melissa said as she smiled, and tugged on your hand for another kiss.

[teamskulladventures]

🪲☠️🪲☠️🪲☠️🪲☠️🪲☠️🪲☠️🪲☠️🪲☠️

Guzma x Bug Catcher Reader

🪲☠️🪲☠️🪲☠️🪲☠️🪲☠️🪲☠️🪲☠️🪲☠️

BUGS BUGS BUGS BUGS BUGS

Pokemon: Illumise, Rabsca, Beedrill

Hunting: Paras (Shiny)

(She/Her, Pronouns)

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Stepping off the old yet reliable faerie from MeleMele to Akala, the fresh ocean breeze was no different here as it was to all the other islands. When you first touched down on that plane from Paldea, you'd never known an ocean breeze like this one. Looking up into the sky you couldn't believe it could get any bluer. Looking beyond the horizon the ocean and sky seemed to blur into one. Only the occasional breaching Mantine would break the illusion. You've traveled to many regions before but to say Alola wasn't the prettiest would be an understatement.

Sure you brought along your tourist flare. You tend to travel light only bringing what you deemed necessary for success. What was that success? Bug competitions of course! Oh sure some may deem it dull and boring to center an entire competition on one type but you wouldn't have it any other way! Bugs rule and they've been your trusty companions for all these years. They are the reason you have opportunities to leave your Paldean home in the first place. Being the top Bug collector in your class all those year back, made winning bug competitions a breeze. Not only that but the amount of overseas programs and study opportunities made it easier for your parents to understand why you decdicated your life to these strange critters.

Well nearly a decade later and halfway into your twenties and your love for this sport has never dulled or faded. Now rocking a strong team a three of the best bugs you could ever hope for, wherever competition goes, you follow. However, this year seems different. This year feels mysterious, yet exciting! Alola, the region full of new opportunities. A new League, new battle tree, new everything! Having been a reigning champion of the bug competitions you've been personally invited by the Bug Enthusiasts Corp. International to help establish a bug type contest here! You couldn't have been happier, yet you still needed to prove not only to them but to yourself that you still have what it takes to hold the title of best bug trainer around. Competition had been growing stronger year after year since younger crowds like to try and take the title for themselves. If you and your Pokemon still want to sit comfortably on your throne you're going to have to shake it up a bit.

With a spring in your step and heart full of determination, you make your way towards the best spot for bugs to flourish. Pushing past the heavy streets of HaeHae city, and into the vibrant green of the Alolan wilds you eventually make your way into the dense and Pokemon filled Lush Jungle.

Okay so maybe rushing into unknown territory wasn't the smartest idea. You've decided to send out your beedrill for some much needed assistance. Not because they're any better at navigating this forest then you are but noticing all these strange new Pokemon was causing knots to form in your stomach. You knew better to judge a book by it's cover. These tiny glowing mushrooms and floating living leis may look cute and innocent but you weren't willing to take any chances. You needed to have your beedrill all bright eyed and bushy tailed if you had any chance at capturing your golden ticket for securing this years first place! You were hunting for Paras.

Pushing past the leaves and vines your feet pounded on the jungle floor with heavy steps. The heat was starting to get to you. Not to mention you had little luck with avoiding wild Pokemon the more you trekked through this jungle. Luckily you were wrong about the mushrooms and Leis you discovered were called Morelulls and Comfeys by passing trainers. These guys kept to themselves and didn't bother picking a fight with your beedrill. However the much smaller and way more fiestier mantis Pokemon were starting to cause problems. Your Beedrill didn't have any struggles battling them but its seems like one after the other would just pop out the bushes to pick a fight with her! It's starting to piss you off!

"AUGHH! YOU STUPID LITTLE PISS MANTIS'S I LOVE ME SOME BUGS AS MUCH AS THE NEXT BUG ENTHUSIASTS BUT YOUR STARTING TO BUG THE FUCK OUT OF ME!!!! SO DO ME A FAVOR AND BUZZ OFF LIKE THE PESTS YOU ARE!"

There's that fiery temper. It's what made you a perfect companion for Beedrill. It's probably what made you win half your contests. With a few threatening jabs from Beedrill and you mean mugging these tiny pink mantis's they eventually took the hint and scattered back into their dens. You breathed a sigh of relief only to be chewed out by a very gruff and very angry voice past all the foliage.

"Hey YOU! Tourist girl! Shut your damn mouth already! Its way to damn early in the morning for your hootin' and hollerin'!"

With a whip of your head you turn around to face off a tall man with a peculiar sense of style. Although he called you a tourist, home boy over here didn't fit the bill for a local either. You could tell that this man was massive even with his slouched shoulders. Honestly they gave him an even more intimidating posture. His hair was as white as snow yet underneath was a pitch black undercut. His eyes were a deep grey with hints of purple eyeshadow around it giving him his dead eye stare an even deeper look to them. His outfit matched his demeanor, black, black and more black. You've never seen such a brooding style since your punk phase back in school. Only peaks of white helped to break up the overall look, not to mention the giant Red Cross on his backside. Was this some sort of underground band you've never heard of? Shaking off any more thoughts you could only assume he was indeed a local. How else could someone where that much black and not die of heatstroke! In the humid jungle no less. Still though his comments pissed you off and you felt as if there was no choice but to chew him out for it!

"Oh yeah big shot! What makes you so sure I'm some tourist or something?!" You say storming up to him with your beedrill following suit.

The man couldn't help but roll his eyes. He swore that if he could, they'd roll as far back into his head as possible just to avoid giving you the time of day. He was holding a basket full of flowers and plants. A lot of berries and root vegetables were among the pile, and it seemed as if he had no intentions of stopping what he was doing just to talk to you. But something deep down inside of him couldn't stop him from jabbing back at you either.

"Again with the yelling, Arceus fuck lady. . . for starters *he picks some more roots* no local is stupid enough to enter this jungle, this far out, unless they know what they're getting themselves into. And two *He picks some more* those "pests" as you call them. . haha yeah right, the local babies even know that those are no bugs sweetheart. There grass types." He says facing you head on this time. His face mere inches away from yours.

Feeling flustered and embarrassed as all hell, you didn't want this slip up to cause you to turn with your tail between your legs. You were on a hunt. A mission! Tsk so what you were just another dumb tourist to this guy! Big whoop! You've survived traveling for this long you just need to keep on keeping on! And all will be well, but some extra expertise can go a long way.

"Soooo does that mean you wanna help a girl out?"

The man could only stop dead in his tracks before maniacally laughing to himself.

"Hahahahaha and what the fresh fuck makes you think I wanna do that?"

And there he goes again. The big tough guy himself getting all up in your personal space. His larger than life form practically shrouding the sun above you. His grin was frightening but in a somewhat attractive way. Almost to say "don't push your luck". Not wanting to back down, with your own pride, you lean into him. Your face almost touching his as your eyes do all the talking. You stare deep into him and you can feel a sense of uncomfort from his end too. You guess that this isn't the normal response people give to a guy like him. But eventually you cave. You don't exactly slump back but, you give up this psudo staring contest so that you can go back to what you were doing. Which was, getting yourself more lost in this forest.

Turning to walk away his voice actually calls out to you. "And where the fuck do you think your going?"

Shocked you didn't expect him to give a shit. "Ummm going to go back to my own thing? What about you?"

He tried to seem as if he didn't care, but his demeanor said otherwise. He had dropped the basket he was holding, as his body shuffled ever so subtly towards your own. "Tsk and get even more lost?"

"Afraid so? Unless you wanna help me" you cheekily grin.

He grumbles annoyed "yeah right . . . your funeral"

"Mhmm . . yep! Guess so . . andddd that'll be on you? I guess? Kinda!"

He laughs a bit more but not in the pleasant way "And why's that?"

"Oh you know. . . have me be the last person you talk to. I die and when the police ask for wtf happened they can just pin a part of this on you for not wanting to help me." Okay so to be fair not your most sound argument. . m actually it held no merit but damn were you desperate. He was the only other fool to be out here in this jungle and was probably going to be your only shot at help for miles. If he was here then other locals might be even a harder catch at trying to convince them to help you on your bug journey. Andddd a bit of you was intrigued by this guys overall swagger and cocky attitude. It's been a while since you've found even a small ounce of interest in another person.

A deep sigh escaped his lips as he contemplated your words. You weren't entirely sure if they had any effect on him. That is until he covers his basket and hoists it over hus shoulders as he puts both of his hands back into his pockets. Walking up to you he finally speaks out.

"Listen here! I am only doing this because honestly I am not entirely keen on picking weeds all afternoon for that *he grumbles quietly* kahuna and kahuna squirt. However, if I help you do whatever the fuck, does that mean you will leave me alone and you get out of this jungle?"

You don't sit on his words long. To focused on being happy that he's actually offering you help. "Yes! 10000% yes! Whatever! You help me, and then you go back to your forging!"

Walking up to your side he stands idle until you tell him what exactly he needs to do in order to help you.

"Well if you must know what I'm doing in this jungle I am trying to find me a Paras! So where to my knight and shining sweatpants!"

With another deep eyeroll, it was only then in that moment that it hit him. Did you say Paras?

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Walking deeper into the thicket, the two of you eventually found a secluded spot that was supposed to home a lot of wild Paras.

"Say . . .uh I don't think I caught your name back there"

"Whats it to ya?" The man bit back defensively

"Fine! Whatevs don't tell me and stay being elusive. My name is (Y/N) and your out here helping me find a Paras because . ."

"Because??" He cuts you off.

"Because! . . . because of the bug contest of course!?'

Now this cause his attention. He wasn't too shocked when he saw your beedrill. He hated to admit it but, bugs are a lot easier to come across then most other types. It's no shock that any trainer would have at least one bug type to their name. But you? You were actually dead serious on being a bug type trainer?

"You're kiddin' right?"

No response on your end, except for the same confused stare.

"No shit?"

Typical, or so you thought. This was normaly the response people gave when you mentioned your bug companions and your love for them. "Bugs are so weak" they say. "Bugs are so gross" they thought. And so your feisty nature struck again but for your bug babies it was worth it.

"Oh yeah? You got a damn problem with that? What are you some bug hater? Look I appreciate the help thus far but if this is going to be a problem for you then you can just leave me al . . ."

"Now wait a minute I didn't mean it like that. . . just wasn't expecting that alright"

"And why's that?"

Now you've done it. You had a tendency to push people to their limits. Your shocked no ones fought you over it, but today might be the day your lucks run dry. With a grimace in his eyes, and the same devilishly attractive smirk you can feel him closing in on you. Backing you up against a tree you see no sign of escaping him.

"Because the names Guzma. The hated boss you beats you down, and beats you down and never gives up."

Throwing two Pokeballs behind him, his Pokemon were just as intimidating as he was. One bright red scizor, and a huge hulking Golisopod.

"Just for the record if you're real serious about this whole 'contest thing' or whatever can't really be all that much of a contest if they let scrubs like you enter."

"Now wait a damn minute, shouldn't a bug guy like yourself at least think that this is cool?!?"

"What's so damn fun about some bug beauty pageant?"

Damn you wanted to clobber this guy! What was his deal? This sure was a first alright.

"Well Guzma. . uh. . hm . you know! Hey! It's . .it's not JUST beauty. You'd think a bug trainer would at least know that much."

"Again, don't give a fuck about shit like that. And I don't need to be into contests to love bugs. Aren't all those contests over seas anyways?

"And AGAIN like I said I am here for Paras, to join this years bug contest. In THIS region. Beauty isn't everything wise guy. I'll have you know that my Beedrill won best Stingers and the toughness categories three years in a row back in Paldea. Not to mention they were runner up four years after that in both Kanto and Johto!" Your Beedrill beams with delight behind you. "And yeah so what I entered my Illumise for the beauty but it was their beautiful glowing personality that helped me secure top spot five years in a row, across both Paldea and the Hoenn region. And if you think thats not all well wait until you see my Rabsca who secured runner up spot for seven consecutive years and two years first place for largest ball roll! . . . See Impressive ain't it?"

" . . . Arceus you're more pathetic then I thought"

His blunt response was expected but damn dude not even a little bit impressed? And from a bug type trainer no less. Well you couldn't deny that words hurt, and you could guess he felt a little guilty for it too. His face became a few shades pinker as he averted your gaze. You were currently a bumbling mess unsure of how to respond to his comment.

"i . . uh . .wuh . well . .hu m Well if you're so quick to judge m . hy why don't you join then!"

"What! Fat chance."

"B . but why not?"

"I don't care what categories there are . .I mm . it's stupid . .why waste my time"

This confused you. Guzma was so ready to criticize the competition as if he implied he'd easily win, yet when presented the opportunity to go for it, he'd throw it away?

"Well yeah? I'm sure you'd win! I'm mean you got two great bugs right here! Why don't you ask them if they want to join!"

You could tell Guzma was hiding something. Well besides his already elusive personality, this time it seemed different. Like as if competitions scared him.

"Tsk yeah sure! . . lets get my golisopod all dolled up!" Turning his head back you guess he wasn't expecting his Golisopod to actually seem happy to want to do that. "What!?"

You only giggled.

"Whats so funny?"

"Well it seems that bug boss here doesn't understand his bugs as well as he thought. And no . . you don't need to "doll him up". Your golisopod would make an excellent contender in all sorts of categories. Strength, speed, claw size, height, weight, heavy lifting, and even battling! And your scizor too of course! But he might actually fair in beauty as well. That shiny red is actually very pleasant to look at! I haven't seen a brighter red in ages! Thats a sign that it's had a healthy diet and wonderful trainer that takes good care of him."

Guzma's blush only deepened in red the more you kept complimenting his crew. His hand krept up to his face to try and hide his embarrassment.

"Sh Shut up already . . . god . . that doesn't change anything. . I still don't get the point in all of it."

You didn't get it. You just didn't get why this guy was being so stubborn. Again you did your best to explain why bug contests were fun and amazing but your words feel on death ears. The more you talked the less you became positive in your own words too.

"*Sighing* Look, I . . I don't want to dim your sparkle or anything (Y/N) but . . hmm . . whatever. Keep doing these bug showcases or whatever, but there is no need to drag me into it."

"Okay."

Looking around Guzma noticed the changing colors thay danced across the sky. Night was approaching, and that meant it was time to leave.

"Sorry, guess you'll just need to catch this Paras another day. Lets get back to town."

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Day in and day out.

Day in and day out.

Day in and day out.

What used to be a monotonous monlouge that made Guzma question why he was trying so hard, became an interesting event everytime he saw you. His glory days were done, now turned into an errand boy for all the people he wronged the happy go lucky attitudes were something he was taking forever to get used to. It didn't help that his "street cred" was effectively flushed down the toilet all in thanks to that island Kahuna, and his probation officer Nanu. However seeing you trek back into that forest, day in and day out gave him something to look forward to when he woke up, and when he fell back asleep.

"You know staring at her isn't going to make you look any better. If you want people to like you Guzma you can start by being less of this mysterious weirdo."

A rough girly voice broke Guzma out of his trance. Forest green hair, and a ladle in her hand coming out of the kitchen to talk up the Ex-Gang leader was none other than Mallow. One of the many people on Guzma's "annoying pipsqueaks" list, and who just ao happened to be one of the many people he was supposed to "pay back" for his crimes.

With his usual agitated tone Guzma barked out a "shut your mouth kid." While he proceeded to go back to helping carry crates of berries off of her Fathers truck.

"Hmpf! Well if your gonna keep that attitude of yours, tou can at least say please" Mallow said back to him hands on her sides to try and size him up. Truth be told a lot of the island kahunas and their trial captains had mixed opinions on letting Guzma rewrite his wrongs. Even Guzma wasn't too keen on changing his ways, if that attitude was any indication of the situation. Most of his "help" was forced by Hala who insisted on everyone deserving a second chance. Which ment being an errand boy. Which ment being on each island helping out on whatever people asked Guzma to help with. Which ment uploading berries off a truck and being scolded by a child of all things. In a way Guzma was starting to miss the interaction that he had with you. At least you couldn't treat him like a child on time out. At least you didn't have to begrudgingly accept his presence. This was something Mallow noticed too.

"Like I said Guz!"

"Don't call me that!"

"Ugh! GUZMA! Like I said Guzma. Just go talk to her. I'm not sure who this mystery woman is to you but she must be super duper important if she's caught your eye like that."

Although Mallow was half teasing, she was right. But even still, Guzma could just not understand. He just couldn't get it. Why you tried so hard. Why you bothered going back into that forest only to leave empty handed each time. He could see it in your eyes, your worry, your desperation. It was starting to weigh on you. If it were him, he would jave cut his losses a while back. Stuck with what worked for him. Stuck with something that out him on top easily and would make sure to stay on top. In a way your endless efforts were starting to both worry him, and piss him off.

Waking up the next morning and heading outside, Guzma saw you trail up that hill. You were heading to the forest, as always, day in and day out. Or so you thought. When the booming voice of Guzma rang across the open you didnt expect him to want to talk to you again.

"Hey! Uhh? . . (Y/N) was it? Can't you just give this whole thing a rest? Or better yet throw in the towel and just go home? You clearly haven't been so lucky in your pursuit so why not just call it quits and save yourself the hassle of waking up at the crack of stupid to keep on getting disappointed."

"Tsk?!! So what?!! Haha you suddenly care? Listen man I don't need your concern! I can handle myself BY myself!? So buzz off already!"

Looking into your eyes was like staring back at an oh so familiar face in the mirror. That glare, that clencher jaw. You were breaking.

"Ack well. . . shit look I'm just saying"

"Just saying?!! Just SAYING?! FUCK that's all everyone does huh? Just blabber on without thinking well news fucking flash words hurt and I am sick! OH I AM SICK, of people telling me what I can and can't do! What I should and shouldn't be doing! Arceus! Just stay out of this! You clearly didn't like helping me the first time so why bother offering unwanted help this time?!!

Guzma's own tempre was starting to peak through too. You were so annoying, yet so desperately what Guzma wish he could have been. Someone who didn't give up. . . someone who didn't have to succumb to his current fate.

"Augh Fine! Keep fucking off into that forest! But could you at least give some better answer than just pure interest? Like there's gotta be a better reason . ?

"And why the fuck do you care?!? Why . why does everyone seem to give so much of a fuck about what I DO? . . It's always the same isn't it?

Guzma had done it again. Destroy. . destroy everything he comes into contact with. Your face had given up. Your eyes started to water.

"Anywhere I go it's always the same punk asses like you trying to control me? Find a reason? As if I needed to humor you. And still words cut deep okay. . . you wanna know the reason so bad? You want your damn answer!! Well this lady needs her Paras because this year will be my last. My last moment to shine! My last moment to prove all you people wrong!!! Sure I haven't been the shining star that I was when I was younger but I know I still have it in me! I know THEY still have what it takes to win! And if I get my Paras then all of this will be secured in the bag for me! And I can finally retire on a high note. When I become head of the conservation unit for this regions International Bug Corp. Conservation and Research Facility I want people to see that I know what I a doing. I want people to trust in MY and MY teams abilities."

With tears in your eyes you turn away from Guzma, who seems to be just as upset and frustrated with himself as you are. Guilt was danced all across his face as you turned your way back down the hill. You didn't feel up for hunting today, and Guzma wasn't feeling is usually tough guy appearance either. Another sleepless night approached Guzma as your words to him echoed in his mind. . . Guzma what was wrong with you? Guzma . . . he had to make it up to you. . . he couldn't keep going on like this.

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As the rain showered down across the region, the summer time brought high winds and thunderstorms from across the ocean. Any normal tourist would be too frightened to even step outside in a drizzle. Any local was too smart enough to realize the rain wasn't letting up anytime soon. But not you. You with your stubborn attitude. You and your neglient persistence. You with your fiery determination. You treked up that hill with mud caked boots. Your own Pokemon were too afraid to show themselves. But you couldn't stop. With the contest approaching you NEEDED to have that Paras with you. The Paras of Lush Jungle with their Pale yet beautiful hues. Unlike the Paras in Kanto these Bug were smaller but prettier or so you thought. Unlike their bright orange counterparts, their diet of Alolan berries made Paras here a lot softer in color. Almost like baby pastel. Those Paras were your tickets to success. Those Paras were the reason why you needed to be stupid enough to risk your life for them. But . . . would they be enough. Arceus you begged with all your might that they would be enough. Just one, just one was all you needed.

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The storm raged on as the small motel TV flashed warning signs of the storm turning harsher as the afternoon approached. Golisopod was even a bit startled as lighting and thunder boomed from the distant shore.

"Tsk hehe . .you really scared? Huh? Seriously bud this ain't nothing from what we were used to back in Po Town. At least the rain makes for a nice change of scenery. Don't have to worry 'bout looking out the window and seein' a herd of lil pipsqueaks and their island badges hanging around."

Golisopod although tough on the inside was still a big ol softy on the outside. Cuddling up to his trainer, Guzma couldn't help but smile and pat his side reassuringly.

"Tell you what, you'd have to be some idiot to try and do anything outside today."

Well, some idot you were. With a crash and a bang the world outside took a turn for the worst. As Guzma sprawled across his motel bed flickering through TV stations all blaring the same doomsday warnings Golisopod would be the one to spot one very peculiar bug flying about. With enough puring and tapping on the glass, Guzma tool the hint.

"Whatcha doin'? I already said thunder is something your used to. Hey what the fu..?"

It was an Illumise, your Illumise. Her tiny body was trying to fight the wind as she zipped around Mallow's family restaurant that was across the street from the motel. Her body was in rough shape, but still she persisted. She kept hovering around one particular spot thag normally was taken space by one big Golisopod and his large trainer too.

Opening his motel door was already enough to bring in a flood of rain, but in that moment Guzma was more concerned about you than anything else.

"Hey *he whistles to Illumise* Hey You! Yeah you lil lady? Whatcha doin'? Where's (Y/N)?"

When your Illumise spotted Guzma she dove for his room causing him to tumble back onto the bed. Now inside Illumise did her best to shake of the rain. There was no time for sitting, she buzzed all across the room and it was Golisopod who was able to grab her still so she could calm down.

"Shh shh hey uhh it's okay? You doin' alright?"

Illumise nodded but sprang back into action as she pulled lightly on Guzma's jacket to lead him outside.

"Woah woah woah? You nuts? Its pouring outside! I ain't going out unless you think I got nuts for brains . . . . *sigh* . . and let me fucking guess. . (Y/N)'s the nuts for brains."

With a sigh and nod Guzma knew that if Illumise was out here asking him of all people for help that ment you were in heaps of shit. He just hoped that he wasn't too late.

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Deep in the heart of the jungle, not a Pokemon nor trainer was out this deep in such weather which ment tracking you down was easier than anticipated. Though the rain was still an annoyance, and Guzma was beyond soaked but when he found your body latching onto a tree you didn't look any better. When Illumise spotted you she flew back to your side and it was only then when you realized she had brought back help.

"He . hey? Where'd you run . . oh ."

With Guzma hovering over you, his grey eyes staring into yours but this time they held a bit of softness to them. Whether he intended to or not Guzma was acting as a better shield to the elements then the leaves were. It was only then did you manage to speak up.

"Look . . . I . .I'm sorry!! You were right Guzma . .this whole thing *thunder clapped* ack!! It's .  I was being stupid! I AM STUPID! I got you dragged into this again . . and for what? . .I .

Tears were starting to form again only this time they didn't touch ground. A rough yet warm hand whipped them away as Guzma brought you closer to his side.

"Hey m . *blushes* .  you're shakin' like a leaf. Hehe . . lets just . go find shelter. Wouldn't want you catching a cold."

Making it inside a nearby cave, Guzma was trying his best to rub of the rain and mud that had found home on your face and hair.

" mmphh . . .Guz . .Guzma . .mmhp yer jacket. .  . ibs . .ibs all wet mmph and . . dirty .now. . . sorry"

"Tsk yeah yeah whatever. . I'll just get that old Kahuna to do somethin' 'bout it. Haha that's what a washer and dryers for. Now um . .yeah 'bout that whole apology. . it . . it's not you who should be saying it."

Blushing and rubbing the back of his wet moppy hair Guzma was struggling to say the right things.

"It's okay! . . I . I get what you're trying to say Guzma."

"Shit. .haha m yeah . .  sorry  .. i really really mean it. For real! It's just!

"Not something you're used to doin'?"

"Hahah fuck yeah! Yeah uh . .yeah."

Sitting closer to him you still can't help but let it all out. Apologies, some tears, anything. You've yearned for this. For someone to finally talk to. For someone to finally care.

"Still Guzma. . . I am sorry too. I know I haven't been the easiest person to deal with. And I guess you more then deserve an explanation for dragging yourself out here. Listen I was never in this for the money. Not even the fame. When I say I love my bugs, I really mean it! Back in Paldea, back with my parents, My Grandma had moved from Kanto to there and met my Grandpa. There they obviously had my parents, who in turn had me. When I was five years old, barely even old enough to remember, my grandma had gotten me a gift. A small baby weedle. I felt like the luckiest girl in the world and took in weedle, soon turned Kakuna to me everywhere. To school and all my classes, and I became pretty popular when she evolved into Beedrill. It was right around when I was 17, when my school was hosting its annual scavanger hunt, did I really let my bug enthusiasm show. For my project I wanted to do something obviously centered around bugs and that year they were hosting an exchange program, where other schools from across different regions had the opportunity to help us with our project. Well I ended up teaming up with this one kid named George who taught me all about bug contests from Johto, and I knew thats exactly what I wanted to do."

"And .. And this George kid helped you out like that? Is that why your traveling now and ended up here?"

"Huh yeah right. . sure. . thats the simple answer, the long answer is that I had to endure years of arguments from my parents about my 'choices' in life. My grandma was the only one who supported me in all this. My parents were too occupied judging me and telling me that being a bug contest winner won't pay the bills. Even after my first few contests and even winning some money, not talking big bucks, but you know? They still brushed it off and tried getting me involved in more of my studies and graduating. It was only during my last year when I turned eighteen where my grandma, and my biology professor came together to help me. They set me up with an exchange program where I could go overseas to Johto this time, and if proved myself there then the school would let me graduate with a minor in entomology ontop of my genreal studies degree. Well I wish that solved my parents problem. Even after I had secured top spot with Beedrill and along with my new buddy at the time, Rabsca. My parents still fought with me over it. Just kept on insisting I was wasting my time and that this proved nothing to them. And so I left, with what little money I had, and some financial support from my Grandma, I left and hadn't looked back. For a few years it was perfect. With Illumise too, my team of three got me to so many places I could have never dreamed of visiting on my own, but . . . when grandma passed away that's when things started going down hill. With my main supprter gone from my life, the pressure of it all started to get to me. Topped with new younger competition, these past few contests haven't been as great as I'd like them to be. With that, my parents took it upon themselves to start eating into my livelihood again demanding I call it quits and return back home so they can help find me a real job."

"Yeah . .but don't they know you're gettin' hired by this super important research facility after you retire?"

"Again! Wish it were that simple. You gotta understand that it isn't about what job I have, its about having the RIGHT job. Can't have this Pokemon. Shouldn't eat that food. Can't wear those clothes. Gotta get that degree over this one. Can't study this class should take this one instead. Nothing ever is good enough, and I don't think they care if my happiness suffers from their decisions. But at this point Guzma. . . I don't care what they think. . I've been used to this for a while. . .at this point it doesn't matter if I win or lose. It's not like I'm losing the job if I don't succeed, but ... "

"It's about proving it to yourself isn't it?"

Looking up at him Guzma, with his wet hair and lopsided shades resting on his head. The way his arm managed to snake around your waist as he pulled you in closer. His body was warm and his smile was gentle. The sound of the rain began to stop ever so slightly as the sun peaked through the tree tops and into the cave.

"Hey . . . let me make this up to you. . *Guzma stpod up from his seat as he reached out his hand to yours* let me help you get that Paras, for real this time."

Stepping out into the clearing Guzma led you back to the spot where he said Paras roam. And to his credit he was right this time. Hoards of Paras scattered across the jungle floor each one just as cute as the other. Hiding behind some bushes you watched over each and every one of them in hopes of finding one that was just perfect for you. With a hasty tug at your side Guzma had alerted you to one he'd think you'd like.

"Hey hey! Look! Fuck! I I can't believe it!"

"Haha Hey what are you doing??"

Looking to where Guzma was pointing you nearly lept from your spot when you spotted a orange cream colored Paras with yellow spotted mushrooms. . .a shiny.

Without thinking you tossed a net ball at it. Luckily it hit, but unlikely for you, your antics caused the surrounding Paras to flee back into the wilds which meant if you didn't catch this bug your other options have already left the premises.

One shake

Two

Three

*Click*

Finally being able to breathe Guzma lept up as well in celebration. Too focused on your accomplishment it didn't even occur to you or him that the two of you were hugging each other until you needed to pull away to collect your new pal. Both of you blushing madly as you both set out back to town.

🪲☠️🪲☠️🪲☠️🪲☠️🪲☠️🪲☠️🪲☠️🪲☠️

"Okay . . So this it! The day of all the contests! You feeling nervous?"

"Pshh Yeah fucking right Big Boy Guzma ain't scared of shit!"

He was so nervous. . fuck it you manged to convince him to sign up for a few contests and yeah he was nervous as all shit. Well the truth had to come out eventually and Guzma was more shocked that you took to the whole being an ex-gang leader better than he expected. Something about a similar thing happened in Paldea back when you were in school where these kids were being bullied and decided to form their own gang of some sort, so to you it was just the same thing different setting! You did lightly scold him on his whole stealing Pokemon thing but Guzma was already on the path to redemption so no need for too much of it. Still the situation with his own parents made your blood boil and you were so here to help support him as your Grandmother did to you all those years back.

With the annoucer speaking towards the crowd they called up the first few rounds of contests which included wing span length and fastest fliers both of which you had Guzma sign his Masquerian for.

"Okay Guzma this it! *You grab his hand and drag him to the event grounds* this is your time to show em who's boss."

"Hahaha now wait a damn minute. I already was big bad Guzma before. The boss needs to prove himself to nobody!"

"Nuff talking more walking! The people need to at least see that you haven't gone soft on them so kick their asses!!!"

"*Blushing* whatever you say sweetcheeks."

🪲☠️🪲☠️🪲☠️🪲☠️🪲☠️🪲☠️🪲☠️🪲☠️

Before the two of you knew it, the contests were over, but the two of you were so caught up in your own joy that it hadn't really fully settled until the next morning. Guzma had won a few which you were more than happy to cheer him on for each and every event he was a part of. As you guessed Golisopod won with flying colors in strength and speed, and his scizor got second in shiniest coat only losing to a younger alola kid and his heracross. His Masquerian got best flying award but didn't do so hot against the other Masquerians in the wingspan category. Damn Hoenn surskit breediers always get the best pickings! Still Guzma enjoyed every moment, and it was all made better with you. Didn't matter to him if he won or lost he was just so happy to spend time around other bug enjoyers and seeing you win too. Speaking of you winning that Paras was your golden ticket. Entering best dressed contest were both trainer and Pokemon had to show up in their best outfit, with a tiny pair of shades and a brand new outfit just for this event you swept the competition and got gold. All your bugs did and with a heavy heart you could finally retire happily.

*Click . . . Creakkkk*

"Welp this is it!"

Opening up your office door, you were allowed some time beforehand to get all your supplies and belongings situated. With Guzma following behind he was left to wonder what was going to happen to you now that you've gotten the job and the winnings you've wanted.

"Haha it ain't much I'm hoping to make this a place of my own soon. I already had lots of briefings with my coworkers and they plan on doing a lot for the bugs of this region. We have the haracross population out on Poni Island who need some help. Compared to other regions they aren't the biggest and they say its all linked to diet. We plan on planting some berry patches to help with that. Oh Yeah! Also also we got the cutifly schooling program! They want to test out how well school kids take to cutfliy's and see if they can be used as beginner Pokemon for small children. And then we got. . . "

"Sounds like you'll be busy" Guzma said with a hint of sadness in his voice.

"Well? Yeah! Of course we'll be busy! But that's part of the fun right!"

"Yeah . . guess so ..." But Guzma didn't seem all that thrilled. Just when he had you in his palm you were ready to slip between his fingers. Gone and alone . . again. But not wanting to ruin the moment he could only smile at you before turning to leave.

"Yep! So much fun! . . . so much more fun than being a little errand boy for that old Kahuna."

"Tsk ain't gotta rub it in now." Guzma said stopping in his tracks.

"Well . . . being all sad doesn't seem all that fun either. . . so . if you are interested *you hand him some documents, with the letters APPLICATION on top.*"

"Hey hey? What?? But . "

"ONLY! If you are interested, sides already talked it over with Uhh Hala? And Nanu I think it was and uh they have agreed to let you try this out. Idk about you but beats doing whatever you were doing before."

"I . . I uhh . hm look . its not . well. . I don't know. ."

"Guzma *You hold out your hand to grab his, rubbing his hand softly* . . . I wouldn't be asking if I didn't trust you. I know I've been pushing my life onto yours over these past few days and that I've done more than just step into your life but, I want . . no I need you in my life. . I don't know anyone who I've shared more of a connection with. This is my dream yes but I would love to share it with you again if you want to. Besides hehe . .think of all the bugs we'll get to meet!! That sounds perfect enough for me."

Feeling your words touch his heart how could he possibly say no to you.

"Hmm. . and you really sure you want the hated boss you beats you down right by your side? I ain't even smart enough for all this . . researchers shit."

"Oh please I'm no scientist either! That's why we do all the heavy lifting!"

"Oh great so it is just errand boy but with more steps"

"*laughing you playfully punch him* hehe yeah but more bugs too."

Your laugh, that oh so sweet laugh that made his heart flutter. With a smile and gleam in his eyes he wrapped his arms around yours to pull you in closer. What he saw in your eyes was more than just his future. He saw happiness, and it all came back to you.

"Yeah . . and it'll be the two of us huh?

Feeling his warmth once more your arms found home wrapped around him as well.

"Yeah! The two of us! And the best crew of bugs we could have ever asked for."

"Thank you (Y/N)."

🪲☠️🪲☠️🪲☠️🪲☠️🪲☠️🪲☠️🪲☠️🪲☠️

🪲☠️🪲☠️🪲☠️🪲☠️🪲☠️🪲☠️🪲☠️🪲☠️

[slamdunk-headcanons]

Fights, haircut and basketball - Imagine Mitsui Hisashi

Hello guys! So I decided to bring my SD imagines to this blog. They were originally written in Portuguese, and I used AI to do the most part of translation and revised it after to do some corrections and adaptations. So this is the very first one I wrote for SD, in 2016, for my favorite character, Mitsui Hisashi. My writing style is in third person, not second person. I hope you all like it!

Posted on Spirit Fanfictions, Wattpad and Nyah!Fanfiction (all Portuguese version) Word count: 3.6k Warnings: fem!reader, mention of gang fights, a bit of cursing, angst Cover by @ezrealsicons

Synopsis: Mitsui and [Name] were unseparable friends. But when their feelings became something more than just friendship, everthing caved in. With the Mitsui's injurey and his subsequent withdrawal from basketball, his personality began to be dominated by resentment and anger. The boy started to despise everything related to the sport, including [Name]. However, two years later, a fight and and old dream would finally make him remember how important she was for him.

“You did what!?"

[Name] looked at Mitsui with wide, horrified eyes. The boy had shown up at her mother's beauty salon that late afternoon without warning, his face covered in bruises and dried blood. The girl had quickly pulled him to the back of the establishment so he wouldn't draw attention in case a client arrive. The last thing she wanted was for Mitsui's problems to spill over into her mother's business. Now they were talking in the break room, which was fortunately empty.

The boy still had the same intimidating appearance that [Name] had seen the last time they met. The face that had once been marked by the features of adolescence was now almost entirely covered by his blackish-blue hair that cascaded down to his shoulders. His navy-blue eyes, once so bright and full of energy, were now dark and heavy. And to top it off, [Name] couldn’t even remember the last time she had seen Mitsui smile.

Faced with his friend's accusatory question, the senior kept his head down and his hands buried in his pockets. The shame he had felt earlier, in front of the man who had given him the determination to win the regional championship, now seemed to weigh ten tons on his broad shoulders. He could endure the accusing looks from everyone, even from Kogure and Akagi, but from [Name]...

"Hey! Answer me, Hisashi!"

He hunched his shoulders even more. It was hard enough to confess what he had done, let alone repeat it. Besides, didn’t [Name] already have enough reasons to despise him?

"I decided to get revenge on Miyagi... I wanted to do it by disqualifying Shohoku from the Nationals through a fight. If the rumor that the players were involved in a gang fight at their own school spread, they would surely be banned from the championship. So I gathered the judo team members and asked for help from a friend of mine, Tetsu-"

Mitsui didn’t get a chance to finish. A sharp, resounding slap stung his already bruised face, causing him to stagger back two steps. His hands instinctively covered the spot where he had been hit, and his navy-blue eyes rose in shock to meet the girl in front of him.

"Are you serious!?" she shouted angrily. "Didn’t I tell you to never speak to me again? And you, not only you disrespect that, but you also come and tell me something like this!?"

The high schooler lowered his gaze again and returned to his previous dejected posture.

[Name] had been his friend for years, and they had met because of basketball. She always played on the neighborhood’s public court, and it was there that he saw her for the first time. He clearly remembered being captivated by how she smiled while playing, and that made him interested in the game. He really wanted to experience the joy that made that girl seem so happy.

Mitsui then asked [Name] to introduce him to basketball. Reluctantly at first, the girl agreed to be his tutor. She taught him everything she could, from basic movements to the tricks of faking and three-point shots, which were her pride and joy. It was on that quaint basketball court that their friendship flourished.

Over the years, Mitsui and [Name] became inseparable, and their friendship began to take on new dimensions. However, neither of them had the courage to make a move, as neither was sure of their own feelings.

And that’s when everything caved in.

After Mitsui’s accident and his subsequent withdrawal from basketball, his personality started to be consumed by resentment and anger. The boy began to despise everything related to the sport, including [Name].

One day, the girl invited him to watch a street basketball game that was going to take place on the same court where they had first met. With disdain, he laughed in [Name]’s face and said he had better things to do.

"I'm not going to waste any more time with stupid things like basketball," he said with a mocking smile.

The girl looked at him in horror, unable to believe that those words had come out of Mitsui's mouth.

“What!?” she shouted, shocked.

“That’s exactly what you heard,” he spat. “I’m not wasting another second on basketball.”

And without giving [Name] a chance to ask any more questions, he spun on his heels and walked away.

After this episode, the high schooler began getting more involved with gangs and street fights, and the chasm that had formed between him and [Name] grew ever wider. Finally, one incident in particular completely ruined their friendship.

Angry after the beating they took from Mitsui’s gang, some troublemakers from Kainan High investigated Mitsui’s connections and discovered [Name]. After obtaining her address, they observed her routine for a few days. After a week, they ambushed her as she was heading home in the late afternoon. Meanwhile, one of them was tasked with delivering the message to Mitsui.

As soon as he found out, the boy was overcomed with an intense feeling of guilt and rage. He never imagined he would end up involving his friend in his fights, let alone as a hostage. Blinded by anger, he ran without hesitation to the agreed location, making a decision along the way: he would distance himself from gangs once and for all so that she would never be at risk because of him again.

When he finally reached them, he realized the true extent of the trap he had fallen into. [Name] was at the back of the alley, held by two burly high schoolers with contemptuous expressions. As soon as they spotted Mitsui, the other gang members blocked both exits of the alley, giving the boy no chance to escape.

“I knew he would come,” their leader sneered. “Let the girl go. We’ve got what we wanted.”

A momentary sense of relief washed over the student, and he searched for [Name] with his eyes. The girl was rubbing her forearms, marked by the strong grip of the thugs, and as soon as she processed that she was free, she looked for Mitsui among the figures present. When her eyes locked on his face, distorted by a mask of conflicting emotions, she marched toward him with determined steps, tears welling up in the corners of her eyes.

How? How had it come to this? How had he let something like this happen? And to her, of all people!?

Everyone turned to look at the slender back of the girl, who was walking forward with clenched fists. As soon as her childhood friend's face was within reach, she raised her right fist and delivered a solid punch to his left cheek.

"Bastard!" she shouted, tears streaming down her cheeks. "How did you get to this point? When did you stoop so low as to drag me into these stupid fights!?"

Mitsui kept his face turned away, his dark blue eyes vacant and empty from the shock.

"Never again..." she said through gritted teeth. "Never speak to me again."

Those words from [Name] hurt more than any punch or kick he'd ever taken in a fight. They hurt more than his knee injury. They hurt more than giving up basketball.

Even when he had given up on everything, she hadn’t. She believed that one day, the bitterness from what had happened in his first year would fade, and Mitsui's passion for basketball would resurface. And even as he sank deeper and deeper, she tried to support him, tending to his wounds so that he wouldn’t have to hear so much from his parents.

And he had simply dismissed all of it.

That day, the beating he took after being insulted and humiliated by the Kainan thugs didn’t compare to the pain of losing [Name] completely. He had deluded himself into thinking she would stand by him despite the stupid mistakes he’d been making. What else would he lose?

Since then, [Name] had never spoken to him again, and Mitsui had no choice but to respect her decision. In her absence, he continued to get involved in more and more trouble and fights, and the little hope hidden in his heart of returning to basketball disappeared completely.

However, the incident in Shohoku’s gym that day awakened old memories of basketball for Mitsui. The feeling of sinking the ball with a simple flick of the wrist, the euphoria filling his chest as he drove past opponents toward the basket... Remembering all of this, Hisashi Mitsui finally realized just how much he missed basketball and, most of all, how much he missed the person who had brought that wonderful sport into his life.

God! How he wanted to play basketball again! How he wanted to play with [Name] and see her smile in that unique and captivating way...

It was because of all this that he swallowed his pride and ran to see the girl he had dismissed out of pure arrogance and selfishness. He had to make things right. He would never forgive himself if he didn’t try.

Mitsui lifted his melancholic dark eyes to [Name] and took a deep breath.

"I know what I did was unforgivable. I really was a selfish idiot, only thinking about my whim of becoming Shohoku’s ace... and it ruined everything." He squeezed his eyes shut tightly and then reopened them, this time with a determined look. "But I need to tell you something."

The girl straightened where she stood and crossed her arms. Her eyes shifted to the floor, filled with pain and anger. She wanted so badly to believe Mitsui’s words. She wanted so badly for him to have truly recognized his mistakes and turned things around... But what he had done wasn't that simple.

With a furrowed brow, she bit her lip and lowered her head.

"I'm going back to playing basketball," Mitsui blurted out, as if the words were forcing their way out of his mouth. "I don’t want to keep pretending that I don’t want to."

[Name]'s eyes widened, and she immediately locked them onto her friend’s face.

"I know it might be a little late since I’m in my third year. But I still want to make the most of the time I have left in high school. I’m going to...

The sentence weighed heavily on his tongue, and he had to press his lips together to prevent the words from spilling out awkwardly. He wanted to show [Name] that this was once again his dream.

Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes, then opened them to look at his friend with a crease of determination on his forehead.

"I'm going to help Shohoku conquer Japan."

[Name]’s lips parted in a small “o,” but not in horror or anger, but rather in surprise. Before her eyes, she finally recognized the determined expression of the Mitsui she had known on the court in their old neighborhood. The boy she had taught to play basketball, who had become much more than just a good friend, was once again standing in front of her.

"Hisashi..." she murmured, her eyes widening further.

Mitsui straightened his shoulders, pulling his hands out of his pockets. He raised a hand to his neck and scratched it, looking down at the floor as shyness took over his gaze.

"So... [Name]-chan... I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to say or do all those stupid things to you. I know it’s not something that can be fixed with just an apology... But today, I really need you."

As soon as the last sentence left Mitsui’s lips, both felt a rush of heat rising to their faces. [Name] averted her eyes to the floor and began rubbing her fingers together with her thumb. The teenager scratched his neck even more quickly and continued:

"It’s-it’s just..." He blinked and, with great effort, looked back at the girl standing in front of him. "Since you helped me take the first step in basketball, I want you to do it again. I want you to help me take the first step back into basketball."

[Name] shifted her weight to her left leg and looked at her friend with a mix of insecurity and suppressed hope. She wanted so much to say yes. She had dreamed so many times of this moment—the moment when Mitsui would tell her that he was going back to basketball, returning to being the boy who had won her admiration in such a simple, genuine way...

But [Name] was fully aware that Mitsui's mistake was almost unforgivable, and she wasn’t going to let him think it would be easy to make everything right.

"I'm not going to play basketball with you, Hisashi," she said in the sternest voice she could muster.

The high schooler flinched as if he'd been punched in the gut. My God! How those words hurt. [Name]’s disdain was worse than any beating he had ever taken. But he deserved it; after all, he had also treated her with disdain... and in the worst possible way.

"I know," he said sadly. "But I need something only you can do."

[Name] furrowed her brows and waited. Mitsui raised his left hand until his fingers reached a lock of his dark hair.

"Could you... cut my hair?" He paused, trying not to stumble over his words, and laughed nervously. "Don’t worry. I’ll pay."

[Name]’s eyes widened so much that Mitsui thought they might pop out of their sockets.

Since girls tended to do this more often, she knew the significance of a haircut at a moment like this. Mitsui really wanted to change and wanted to leave a physical reminder of his new goal: to conquer Japan wearing Shohoku’s jersey.

After a few seconds, [Name] lowered her head and, turning on her heels, said, "Come here."

Surprised that he hadn’t received a harsh response from the girl, Mitsui promptly followed her with an astonished expression. She led him to the bathroom used by the staff and opened a cabinet containing a stack of white, fluffy towels. Grabbing one, she pushed it against the broad chest of the teenager and said, "Wipe off that blood so you don’t scare the other customers. When you’re done, go to the salon. I’ll be waiting there."

Mitsui nodded promptly and quickly cleaned himself up. When his face finally lost the most alarming signs of the fight, he folded the towel, leaving it in a corner, and headed to where [Name] was waiting. The girl was already dressed in a smock, with a cape draped over the same arm holding a pair of scissors.

"Have a seat," she said, her face wearing an indecipherable neutral expression.

Mitsui obeyed and sat down. [Name] adjusted the chair’s height and looked into the mirror to meet the boy’s blue eyes reflected there.

"So, what will it be?" she asked, running her fingers through the teenager's overgrown hair. Her touch sent involuntary shivers down Mitsui’s spine, and a slight blush spread across his cheeks.

"Ahm..." he muttered, glancing at the countertop cluttered with beauty tools. "You can cut it all off."

"All of it!?" she replied, her expression once again showing shock.

"Yeah. I mean, really short. It’s more comfortable for playing..."

The girl ran her fingers through Mitsui’s hair once more, taking a few measurements, and nodded.

"I’ll cut it little by little, and you can tell me if it’s okay, alright?"

"Uh-huh," he murmured, trying to stay still as he heard the first snips of the scissors cutting through his hair.

[Name] worked in silence, avoiding Mitsui’s deep blue eyes whenever she checked the cut in the mirror. However, it was impossible for her not to notice his features as the long hair stopped covering his face. Now that the black curtain had disappeared, [Name] could finally see the changes puberty had brought to her friend’s face. His jawline had become well-defined, but in a gentle way. Dark circles under his eyes marked the edges of his cheeks, which were covered in bruises and scratches, yet this detail still gave him a certain maturity. His straight nose had the same effect. His thick, black eyebrows perfectly crowned his pair of navy blue eyes, which had always captivated [Name] in a way she would never admit. Now they were much more visible, and this pleased her deeply.

In the end, Mitsui’s new haircut suited him very well, giving his face a more playful and determined look.

Yes... This was the Mitsui she had known.

"So?" she asked after making the final touch on the left side. "What do you think?"

He turned his head from side to side to see the new hairstyle from different angles and then smiled, satisfied. [Name] went to the counter and grabbed a square mirror so Mitsui could check the back of his hair too.

"Oh!" he said, smiling even more. "It really looks good! Thank you so much, [Name]-chan!"

While the teenager admired his friend’s work, [Name] couldn’t help but notice his features again. Mitsui had turned out much more handsome than she had anticipated.

Realizing this, her cheeks involuntarily heated up, and she lowered her face, afraid he would see her embarrassed expression.

"You’re welcome," she murmured, moving to the counter to put away the mirror and the brush she had used to remove the excess hair.

As soon as she removed the cape that had covered him, he stood up and quickly reached into his pocket, pulling out some green bills.

"How much do I owe you?" he asked, checking the amount he had.

[Name] had her back to him, organizing the counter and sweeping some leftover hair onto the floor. She bit her lip at Mitsui’s question, and the phrase he had said earlier echoed in her mind:

"I know. But I need something only you can do."

"Could you... cut my hair?"

Now that she could finally see Mitsui's eyes without his long black hair in the way, she was certain that he wasn’t just talking for the sake of it. She recognized his stubborn determination in the navy blue of his eyes. The haircut was his way of telling himself that he wanted to, and would, become who he once was. If she charged him for it, Mitsui's request would lose all its meaning.

"Nothing," she said, reaching out for the broom that was leaning nearby. "It's on me."

"But...!" he blinked, stunned as he stared at the back of her head. "I said I’d pay!"

"Shut up and accept it, idiot," she replied, too afraid to turn around and meet his eyes.

A whirlwind of emotions tore through her chest. Her head was spinning with confusion. She wanted so badly to celebrate this, to support him at his games, and to train with him... But at the same time, she couldn’t forget what he had done. And that stopped her from showing what she truly felt.

The teenager remained silent for a few moments before saying, "[Name]-chan... Please, let me pay for the haircut. I'll feel really bad i—"

"I already told you it’s on me!" she exclaimed too loudly as she turned her body and began sweeping with her eyes fixed on the floor. She walked past Mitsui and bumped into his shoulder hard. "I’m done here. You can go."

Mitsui didn’t move. His eyes went blank, staring into nothing as he digested [Name]'s harsh words. He had known from the start that he wouldn’t win her trust right away, but that didn’t lessen the weight of being treated like this by her.

However, even though she was clearly resentful, [Name] had granted his request. And if she didn’t charge for the service... it meant that, deep down, she wanted to do it for him and was happy that he had come back.

A slight smile curved Mitsui's lips as he realized this, and he quietly approached [Name] until he stood just behind her.

"[Name]-chan," he called, letting the gratitude he felt fill her name.

Hearing his voice so close, [Name] tensed up, feeling her cheeks flush once more. Trying to sound as harsh as possible, she turned sharply and growled, "Hisashi, I already told you to—"

But she couldn’t finish the sentence. As soon as she turned around, a soft, warm touch on her left cheek silenced her instantly. Mitsui was leaning in, his hand gently resting on her left shoulder as his lips placed a very sweet kiss on her blushing face.

The touch lasted only a few seconds, but it was enough to make all the hairs on [Name]'s body stand on end. Internally, she wished Mitsui’s touch had lasted a little longer. Pulling back slightly, he whispered, "Thank you."

He then straightened up, running his hand through his hair in a slightly awkward manner.

"Well, I’ll be going. See you later, [Name]-chan."

He turned on his heels and headed toward the exit of the salon. The girl remained frozen, staring at the back of her childhood friend. She hated herself for being so affected by his gesture, and even more for knowing that deep down, she really wanted Mitsui back... for herself.

Maybe it wasn’t the right time for them to reconnect, but they could start, right?

She went back to sweeping, and just as he stopped to open the door, she raised her voice: “Hey, idiot.”

Startled, the teenager turned his torso enough to look at [Name] with a questioning expression. “If you don’t make Shohoku rise to the top of Japan, I swear I’ll beat you to death".

Mitsui's eyes widened, and gradually, a smile replaced his shocked expression. He chuckled quietly as he remembered the countless times he had said he would conquer the nation. There was no turning back. This time, he had to succeed.

Widening his smile even further, he looked at [Name] defiantly and said, “I’m on it.”

[bestworstcase]

& the broader point is that salem has to have a reason to change, and nothing we’ve seen from her thus far suggests that suffering a sound defeat at the hands of adversaries she sees as misguided children enacting the will of monstrous tyrants would impel her to give up, let alone join them, unless she knew they’d changed their minds and intended to defeat the gods somehow.

and i find it rather difficult to believe that a) these kids would come to that decision without also deciding to get salem to work with them against their common enemy, or that b) salem would reject an overture of alliance against the gods without being beaten into submission first.

the gods inflicted a torturous curse upon her; she spent decades searching for a way to escape it and then turned around to rally the world in rebellion against them. the gods slaughtered everyone; she stood up again in horrified shock and vowed to try again. they dropped the moon on her head and she kept moving until she found something she could do to change her fate. she did not even hesitate before telling ozma that nothing his gods said mattered. every time she’s been kicked into the dirt, she’s gotten back up to keep fighting, for millions of years. that is who she is. it’s not going to change.

if she’s defeated outright, she’ll retreat and regroup. if she’s martially defeated but convinces the kids that the gods must and can be defeated and she’ll stand with them if they try, that… isn’t defeating salem, that’s salem pulling an ideological victory out of a single lost battle. if the kids independently decide that the gods can and must be defeated but don’t even make an effort to appeal to salem’s hatred of those gods to bring the war with her to a close, they… learnt nothing from the ever after.

if they approach salem with an offer she has every reason to hear as her opponents taking her side against the genocidal gods who want her to suffer and them to die, it’s nonsensical to suggest that she wouldn’t at least agree to talk. if she refuses that offer it’ll likely be out of conviction that it is too dangerous for them to stand with her, but in that case the end result is not war but subterfuge; salem needs to appear as their enemy but if their plan to defeat the gods is viable she’s certainly not above sheathing her claws while playing the part required of her.

in the event they do manage to defeat her without having any intention or plan to confront and defeat the gods, as in their victory condition is locking the relics up again and trying to rebuild, then the story isn’t over because either salem strikes again a few months later or she otherwise does something to incite their stand against the brothers. at best you wind up with very weird pacing; at worst you vindicate salem’s belief that what she’s doing now is necessary to change the material facts of her situation, because even setting half the world aflame and wrenching the truth into the open was not enough to break the divine stranglehold on this world. if the world is indifferent to her suffering so long as she suffers quietly out of sight, then why should she consent to suffer quietly?

bluntly, defeating salem is not narratively feasible if the gods are to be the final antagonists; the resolution here is either salem wins by convincing them to take her side against her tormentors or they reach out to salem with the intention of finding common cause. whether she loses a battle beforehand or not, she wins the war.

thus the importance of her relationships with cinder and (in all likelihood) summer rose. if defeating salem incite her to change, then something else must give her a reason—and crucially this has to happen before the last stand. her outlook if nothing changes is no less bleak than the heroes, a shattered world riven by conflict of her own making where she will be given no quarter anywhere. she needs to find true hope just as they do.

for the coalition in vacuo v10 will in all likelihood begin in a very dark place. it’s about the journey out of emptiness. (that is literally what "vacuo" means.) i think salem’s arc in v10 will mirror that; by any measure, she won in vacuo… and then she veered again, changed her mind again about going to vacuo next to instead reduce vale to rubble and evidently dig in at beacon. we saw how distraught she was back in v6 when she first chose to divert from her plans and deliver a siege to atlas instead. what does this suggest about her mindset when she chose to flatten vale?

the implacable confidence she had when this war began is gone—devoured by the three times now she’s almost lost cinder and the unexpectedly impossible search for the relic of choice. it isn’t clear whether salem intended for atlas to fall or, if she didn’t, how much it might weigh on her that it did; her implied promise not to harm summer’s children has been broken; cinder is lying to her; watts is dead and hazel defected; seeing ozma again reopened all of those old festering wounds.

she has two relics in hand and she’s perfectly poised to seize the remaining two but i do not think that is going to matter at all as far as her state of mind because the realization and the terror of caring about even just one or two people whom she cannot protect and indeed grievously hurt will continue to overpower her practical considerations. i think her emotional strife will be the focus of the villain beacon arc far moreso than the search for the crown, in contrast to ruby’s personal problems getting stomped back down by the practical demands of the situation in vacuo.

so by the time these separate arcs intersect again we’ll have ruby at a boiling point and salem on a precipice if it hasn’t already been wrenched out of her that she cannot bring herself to sacrifice cinder, and i think it’s important narratively for that symmetry to occur. put two crises together and you get a crossroads.

all that to say the setup for salem to turn is all pointing toward not defeat but an essential conflict between her existing plans and what she really wants; the gods punished salem brutally for caring too much and it is exactly her capacity to love like that which will save her in the end.

[karoiseka]

10) Stable

((So, This week was a CHORE to get through with work, and I barely had time to write, much less get the screenshots I wanted, especially for this one, so I decided to just submit all of them on time, and have been taking screenshots today while I have a bit of time.

This is for end of 6.0 Endwalker, so major spoilers for that! [and a scene I've wanted to screenshot for a long time now, and will do a bigger version of later]))

Grey stone beneath her feet, grey cracked stone her head, and surrounded by the most brilliant diamond speckled magenta-purple sky, Karo stood. She has made it this far–had forged on despite everything–and still her destination lay so close–yet unreachable. 

The amber stone nearly burned in her hand, clutching it tightly as she stared at Meteion, fire burning in her heart as Ardbert repeated the mantra. 

You must forge on. Never give up hope. We are still here, and will be heard. You are not alone. 

The Echo washed over her, even here in this place depleted of aether, as Y’shtoa’s words reminded her that she could not summon them back to her side. Not–

Yet.  Voice after voice came to her, memories skipping over, searching for the phrase that she needed.  Clarity as Hydaeyn’s voice next whispered in the ear of memory, and Karo's eyes snapped open–laughing desperately as Azem’s summoning circle appeared around her, Emet-Selch’s voice ringing in her internal ear.  Only two of the seven circles glowed in the darkness, before pillars of brilliant light lit the smug face of her enemy. 

The light faded–and two forms towered before her in this time and place so far removed from where she had seen them before. Turning to glance at her, one with enthusiastic joy and echoing her laughter, the other with a deep ever suffering fondness, Karo could feel her heart starting to race.  A melody teasing her senses, just beyond reach for the moment, humming, buzzing in her mind.

As Emet and Hythlodaeus introduced themselves to Meteion, Karo’s laughter continued to bubble up.  Surely she seemed mad, but the joy and hope was slowly bringing color back to her face.  Was this the friendship that Ikarus had treasured so much reflecting down the shards of their soul?  Emet’s theatrics seared into her soul; she would never forget him–or Hythlodaeus–in any of the forms or places that she had met them both.  Hades, the Dark to her Light, she somehow still looked to him with the same fondness, preferring to remember the man she met in Elpis versus the tortured soul of her present day, and the one that had caused her so much pain.

Hythlodaeus called her out of her thoughts as Emet-Selch finished his ultimatum to the bringer of the Final Days.  They were there, called by her, to help.  And they would, in the way they knew best how–bidding her to form the path that they would set their magic to create.  His eyes met hers–topaz to sapphire–and Karo prayed, the song’s melody in her mind starting to clear.

“Ours is the wisdom to weave the fabric of reality!” Hythlodaeus’ melodic voice called out, breaking her reverie.

“Ours is the power to create!” two hands raised and with a snap! the barren stone erupted into a riot of color as Elpis flowers covered the entire pinnacle of where they stood.  Karo swayed as the magic washed over her, and watched as Meteion fell to her knees, cradling a perfect bloom.  Somehow she kept to her feet as Emet-Selch spoke once more, voice proud as he walked to the side of the platform.

“These Elpis blooms serve as proof that this realm is not utterly devoid of hope.  No more can you deny its power.  No more is yours the dominion of despair,” he was gentle as he got with the avatar of despair even as he cracked her ultimate power over their surroundings like a child’s toy, before turning to Karo.

“In case the practical implications were lost on you, you comrades no longer need fight their fight,” Karo had been keeping up somehow with the metaphysical reasons, and tears were already streaming down her face.

“So, go on.  Call them back to your side,” without another thought, and almost without even asking, the summoning circle opened once more around her, seven bright pillars burning in the darkness as bright as her soul.  Seven beams of light that faded into seven heartbreakingly familiar faces, whole, healthy, and alive.  The song in her mind broke into full clarity as Hope became a melody for her to sing.

As the Scion’s voices reached her, each with their own quip or comment, Karo fell to her knees, a mirror of Meteion, clutching the Azem crystal to her chest.  Thank you thank you thank you her soul sang to Azem. To Hydaelyn.  To Hades and Hythlodaeus.  To Ardbert.  To her companions that were blessedly still with her, who had believed in her this entire journey, even when she didn’t believe in herself.  All was right in the universe once more, her heart stabilizing.

G’raha and Thancred reached her first skidding in the flowers kicking up blooms around the trio, pulling her into their joint embrace as they had noticed her fall.  G’raha had seen how she had barely been keeping together on the long journey to this point–and Thancred could obviously see the strain that had been put upon her.  There they stayed, conscious of what was around them, but uncaring and reveling in the fact that they were together once more. 

The rest of the Scions gathered close, and embraced Karo as she stood, wiping away the tears of joy.  Heart beating strong–and finally sure of her path–she squeezed her lover's hands tight as she finally released them and  turned to face Meteion, reaching out a hand.  It would end–had to end.  

Now.

[guess-that-ship]

S10 Round 2

The Time Goddess and the Time Traveler

cw: spoilers

The goddess of time manifests herself on the mortal plane to take care of a problem with a villain who is messing with the fabric of time. While making her way to fight this villain, she meets a time-traveler who is also out to stop this villain. Though they are on the same side, her frustration with his flippancy around the time travel causes her to snap at him, but… he reacts unexpectedly by flirting with her. And she's never been caught by surprise like that before, being used to seeing all of time at once.

When the villain is defeated, the time-traveler should be erased from the timeline, since the future he traveled back from no longer exists. However, the goddess decides to keep him in the timeline as she's grown fond of him, though it is to her detriment, because she wants to keep being surprised. This unstable arrangement continues as the two of them grow to love each other, and she grows to love the life they have together… until the time-traveler begins to fade from the timeline anyway. To save him, the goddess ultimately decides to give up her godhood to remain with him, and to truly live a mortal life with the people she cares about.

The Saviour and The Tainted

cw: attempted murder, burying someone alive

The island is all she ever knew, and by birthright it was rightfully hers to inherit. But soon as the legal proceedings finished, a mysterious Oracle knocked at her door to point an accusing finger at the Tainted one, declaring her unfit for the role. Only she, the Oracle, could be the rightful leader of this island. Within the blink of an eye, the Tainted lost all she ever had and became a prisoner in her own home. One night, however, a man snuck into her house, with promises to bring justice to her and end the Oracle’s corrupt reign. She agreed and played along, though she easily saw through the facade---this “man” was actually a woman in disguise. Whatever reason the Savior had to hide her identity, the Tainted one remained weary.

The Savior kept visiting her at night for months to come to bring news of the outside world, but with every late night spent together sharing secrets, the air between them shifted. An alliance to defeat a common enemy turned into something more affectionate, and nightly debriefs turned into shared moments until the early hours of the morning. But old habits die hard, so the Tainted one decided to ruin what they had before the Savior could break her heart or betray her. Just as the Savior finally bared her heart to her, the Tainted held the Saviour close to her and snuck the incriminating flower in her hair, and watched as the other woman, who fell into her trap, grew dizzy and confused as she writhed in pain. The Tainted could do no more as her beloved collapsed, and was carried off to be buried alive.

Against all odds, the Savior survived and crawled her way out, for she made a promise she had to fulfill. With a little help she brought down the Oracle and her accomplice, revealing the truth behind the island’s mysterious ruler. Her mission accomplished, the Savior left the island and took the freed woman's heart with her. The woman had her home and freedom restored, yet what her heart truly desired will never be within her reach again.

[paradoxcase]

Chapter 51, 52, 53, and Epilogue of Harrow the Ninth

Sorry I kept this for so long, had a bad couple of days and also, it's just a lot of stuff

And then she discovered that her dad is actually the most important person in her world, and that he was never going to come for her because he didn't know she existed, and wasn't any better than the people she wanted him to rescue her from

On another note, I'd live to hear more childhood Gideon/Harrow fighting

So this is the fight that was described back in Gideon the Ninth just before Harrow opened the Tomb, and yeah, this must have been what drove her to do that, if she came to the Tomb directly with Gideon's blood under her fingernails. I think they both must have envied each other, in different ways

On the reread, I am wondering now, what kind of person, or, I guess, entity, was Alecto anyway, and why did Pyrrha alone not hate her? And I guess John, although I think he had other reasons for wanting to keep her around, and he also described her as a monster to Harrow way back when. These descriptions don't really seem to match with Harrow's hallucinations of her, so now I'm back to wondering if they were just hallucinations and not a secondary haunting or something like that

I missed this on the initial reread, but I think I see now - Anastasia would have died when John killed Samael if she had succeeded in attaining Lyctorhood the proper way, with both people still alive in different bodies. So, because John did attain Lyctorhood that way with Alecto, killing Alecto will kill John, even though he apparently can't be killed due to harm to his own physical body at all. So that's why they were breaking into the Tomb - they were going to kill Alecto and thereby kill John, and that's why they wanted Wake to help out with evacuating people, because they thought they would have to do that after John died. How long have they been plotting to kill John? And I gather than Cytherea must have been in on this plan also, if she also recognized what Gideon's eye color meant, since if she wasn't in on the plan she wouldn't have known that John's child was alive on Pluto. And when the plan failed, she tried her thing at Canaan House instead

What's most interesting to me about this is that as far as the official story that John told his Lyctors goes, the Tomb was just a place for him to bury Alecto, who had some sentimental connection to. Meanwhile, in the Nine Houses, the mythology is that the Tomb houses the Emperor's ancient enemy, and opening it will cause him to die and bring about the apocalypse, and that's actually correct, well, if that's what happens when John dies, anyway, if Alecto is killed John will die. But the Lyctors don't know this, or at least aren't supposed to know it. I wonder if the mythology started because Anastasia understood what true Lyctorhood was, and that Alecto was John's cavalier, and therefore also knew the real purpose of the Tomb, so she started this mythology based on that? And meanwhile the Lyctors never heard about it because the Ninth House rarely winds up in the Cohort and probably no one else is that interested in talking about the Tomb

So Augustine thinks she's become a full Lyctor and doesn't realize that it's just Gideon in control of her body now. Mercy definitely realized it was just Gideon, and so did Pyrrha, though

So are we meant to believe that John was born as a regular human being in the 21st century or whatever with Gideon's eyes and there's no like, magic or anything behind that color, just genetics? It's now being described in ways that make it seem entirely inhuman

I wonder if she would have chosen to use Corona instead of Naberius if she knew there was a way for her to wind up alive at the end of the process?

What is John looking for? I get that he seems to be mad at BOE for whatever happened to Earth/humanity, but is there also something he's looking for?

I'm also not terribly clear on why Augustine thinks ending this war will absolve John as far as he's concerned? Like, those things don't seem related. This thing about the actual secret of Lyctorhood is a lie that John told his Lyctors, like, a personal grievance between them, I'm not sure what it has to do with John's conflict with BOE or whatever greivances happened over Earth and all of humanity dying. It doesn't sound like John lied to them about that, if we can believe what's been said so far in this chapter, quitting the war won't actually fix anything that Augustine is mad at John about

So this is the payoff from the line about how the only reason for Mercy to be so specialized in anatomy is to kill a Lyctor?

I wonder how true this actually is? When John comes back, he says that not much happened and only the Sixth House would maybe experience anything, but again, the sun isn't destined to become a black hole, so I've got to wonder if even what John said is accurate for the consequences to the system?

But it is interesting, that in setting out to kill John, Mercy and Augustine effectively decided that they were going to sacrifice everyone else in order to avenge their cavaliers, because that is what they thought would happen

I think this maybe explains her actions at the end of the book. She's probably a little mad at John, but I don't think she's mourning Naberius, whereas she has friends and family back on the Third, probably, and to the best of her knowledge Corona is still in the Nine Houses system. It's not that she's particularly loyal to John, I think she just obviously doesn't think killing John is worth it if it means that all those other people have to die, too

Was the Cristabel and Alfred thing then that she convinced him to agree to die for Augustine? From what Augustine said in the last chapter it seems like he maybe attained Lyctorhood under kind of similar circumstances to how Harrow did

Way back at the beginning of Gideon the Ninth, zenosanalytic reblogged one of these posts from me and said something about black romance with respect to griddlehark, but I don't think their relationship is actually at all like black romance? There's way too much of Gideon sacrificing herself for Harrow, which is not how black romance works. But this, this feels like good old traditional Homestuck-style black romance right here

Originally I thought this was going to be "you should know that John can't actually die and he's about to come back to life" but in retrospect it was definitely going to be "you should know that Gideon is dead and I'm actually just Pyrrha now"

So all that stuff about how he was so sorry and how could he be granted absolution and that he'll do anything and so forth, it seems like that was bullshit actually, because Mercy said "you can gain absolution by dying" and he was mad about that. Like, Harrow almost killed Gideon/Pyrrha earlier in this book because they were trying to kill her and one of them at least was like "you know what, I deserved that" but John is mad, he doesn't think he deserved that, despite what he said earlier, I don't think he actually thinks he did anything wrong at all. He lied to them "because it was easier", you don't really do something you really regret just because it was easier. Maybe he thinks he's being a nice person by telling them that he really regrets killing the cavaliers and misses them and so forth, but I don't think he actually regrets it very much

I'm not sure I see what the point of John pretending he was vulnerable would be? Unless this was all just about not bleeding so that the blood ward couldn't be tampered with? Or the fact that he resembles a resurrection beast to the stoma, probably because his cavalier was a resurrection beast?

She means it, too. Unlike Ianthe, Gideon is perfectly happy to send John to literal hell for terrorizing Harrow even if it means that the entire Nine Houses will be destroyed, and probably the fact that Crux will die too is just a bonus

I guess that last bit is a quote?

I remember way back when when Augustine told Mercy that he was John's favorite, and that if he killed Mercy he'd be forgiven, whereas Mercy wouldn't be forgiven for killing him, and that's not exactly what happened, but John knows that Augustine 100% plotted to kill him, and was ok with killing him even if it meant killing everyone in the Nine Houses too, and even if Augustine accepts John's forgiveness here he will only be behaving because he knows John could kill him whenever he wants to and Augustine can't kill John, and John is still willing to live with that situation if Augustine will obey him out of fear, so I think Augustine was in fact right about that, John must either like or just plain need Augustine to a huge extent to make this offer, I think

I missed this the first time, too, but from this I gather that John's god-powers do not actually work in the River, for some reason? If they did, I would imagine he would have just killed Augustine the same way he killed Mercy

This doesn't seem to have ever been clarified?

So at the beginning of the book, Harrow didn't need to breathe because she was in the River, not because she was Lyctor

So I guess this is saying that Gideon and Pyrrha properly switched eye color, like John and Alecto did, and now that it's Pyrrha here, she has Gideon's original eyes, whereas hers were originally the green. But I don't think they switched eye color every time Pyrrha was fronting or whatever, because the other Lyctors would have noticed that. It only happened now that Gideon is dead

Also, since Gideon himself wasn't aware that Pyrrha was still around, I guess when the incinerator thing happened, the person who got almost killed by Wake and who talked to Harrow after being rescued was Pyrrha, and Gideon was the one who she talked to after the fact, who didn't remember anything. From his perspective, he just blacked out sometimes and forgot things he'd done and that had happened to him. I remember that Pyrrha wasn't healing the way Harrow thought she should be in that scene - was that because she was Pyrrha at that point and not Gideon?

I don't think the same thing happened to them as what happened with Harrow and Gideon, though, because isn't Gideon Nav mainly around only because of what Harrow did to her brain?

I love that the book sets up this wild and dramatic straight relationship between Gideon and Wake and immediately is like "just kidding, it was lesbians all the way down!" Magnus and Abigail are the only people who are allowed to be straight in this story. Palamedes can have a little, as a treat, I guess

This whole thing where Augustine tries to wrestle John into the stoma and winds up getting sucked in himself is just a callback from when they talked about that happening to Ulysses, right? Augustine wasn't willing to rick this to kill Number Seven, but he's willing to risk it to kill John

Is that... a Miette reference? This is absolutely the worst possible place for there to be a Miette reference

Is this a hallucination? Or somehow real?

Gideon says she died, but she also says she died like a half a dozen separate times in the last few chapters, so who really knows?

Something that I think is actually really great about this ending is that throughout this whole book, Mercy and Augustine have been treading this line between being mildly amusing and just being irritating, at no point could I say I actually liked those characters and would care if they died. But somehow, at the end of the book, they do things that are actually, genuinely heroic and principled (after a fashion, they really were ok with killing all of the Nine Houses) and none of it was remotely out of character at all and now I like these characters and am sad that they are dead. Like forget "kill your darlings" the new hot writing tip is to kill the annoying character that the reader hates and make them genuinely sad about that anyway. And Mercy never even got to have her precisely-planned 24-minute funeral after all

So possibly Gideon is not actually dead, or not dead in the sense that most of the other cavaliers are dead, and I'm guessing Pyrrha is probably also not dead in that sense. So did this actually happen to them as a result of how Harrow achieved Lyctorhood, and not because of the brain surgery?

This is so great and wholesome after John's whole thing of "oh, I just didn't tell you because it was easier that way

Ok, so, 1) why would Gideon be responsible for whatever is going on right now, and why would Harrow think she was involved, and 2) how does Harrow know that's not a real publication, Gideon doesn't really strike me as the kind of person who reuses jokes with multiple different people

As for the epilogue:

What I'm getting from this is that someone new (I guess probably Nona) is now in Harrow's body, and Harrow's body and probably also Pyrrha have wound up in BOE somewhere, with modern technology, which is totally possible since you can travel large distances in the River, and she's living with Pyrrha and Camilla and someone else who might be Judith or Corona, or might be Palamedes with a new body or something, and they are trying to see if they can get either Harrow's soul or Gideon's to resurface and it's unclear what has happened to both of them. And I guess Nona still has Harrow's magic healing ability, and they have to hide that Nona is/was a necromancer, because this is BOE

Also, I've now realized why tumblr is full of Locked Tomb posts about people who have names like Hot Sauce, because this is now BOE and everyone has names like that, the Dramatis Personae of the next book is going to be a hoot, I can tell

It looks like there's some back matter in this book, including As Yet Unsent. Is the As Yet Unsent in the back of this book the whole story, or is it an excerpt from a longer thing that I should go hunt down somewhere else?

[irkimatsu]

I just love writing human Husk as a young man with dreams! I also love thinking about how he went and destroyed his dreams! Just some rambling about my ideas for the trajectory of Husk's life on Earth. Alcoholism, cheating, marital strife, lots of shit going on here. I love him dearly but he's in hell for a reason...

He'd been enchanted by the Las Vegas performance scene ever since he was a kid, especially the magicians. As a young adult, he performed magic and he played saxophone in jazz bands, always working to improve his skills and get better gigs. He dreamed of seeing the world and becoming an international name. He loved when people would come up to him and tell him how much they loved his shows, especially the kids. He would have loved to inspire just one kid with his shows the same way he'd been.

The problems started early. He needed money for that dream of traveling the world, and when you're living in Las Vegas, what better way to make fast money than gambling? Soon it wasn't just about the money, it was about that thrill of watching the roulette wheel spin or drawing that next set of cards, wondering if this will finally lead to his big break. It never quite did, but he still made enough on top of the money he made from shows to fund his habit and live a nice life. Nice clothes, nice meals out... and lots of nice alcohol.

He's still functioning for now.

He used to be in love. He met her when she came to see one of his jazz shows. She was an enthusiast of live music, and she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever met; not just for her looks, but for her amazing singing voice. He wanted to do everything he could for her. Give her an amazing wedding and honeymoon, take her out dancing in the most upscale clubs, see the world with her.

He needed money for that. He needed to keep gambling.

Things were great at first. He spoiled her as much as he could. They married, had two daughters who he doted on, and he was able to hide his problems from her.

Until the loan sharks came banging on the door demanding that he pay off his debts. Until he kept vanishing for days at a time, gambling and drinking until coming back with less than he started. He cheated on his wife constantly; alcohol is terrible for your decision making, and some nights he couldn't bring himself to face his family, but he had to go somewhere... he has no memory of any of the cheating. Definitely not of any passion. Only the part where he wakes up in a stranger's bed with zero memory of what happened the previous night.

He got a few love confessions out of those nights. He responded by fleeing.

He and his wife are fighting more often. Rather, she's fighting, screaming and demanding to know where he's been for the past two days and if he realizes what he's putting her through?! Putting their children through?! Husk never yells back. All he can do is mumble apologies while downing yet another drink.

If he ever stopped drinking his feelings away, the guilt would have a chance to kill him. It's self-preservation, in his mind.

He broke the first time she left with the kids. She was gone for weeks, and he couldn't do anything in that time, not even get himself together enough to go out to the casinos. Alcohol stopped him from going even crazier in loneliness and guilt.

When she came back, he promised to be better, and for a time he actually managed to pull it off. He didn't have the money to spoil her like he used to, but he still took her dancing and sang her songs. That's all she needed, to hear the love of her life tell her how much he loves her back, and to not watch him choose self-destruction over her...

He can't stay clean forever. Those addictions are rooted deep, especially with his newfound desperation to win back everything he lost, get the loan sharks off his back for good, and buy everything his family could ever want to make up for the pain he caused them.

The cycle repeats. She leaves, she comes back, he spoils her, he self-destructs.

Eventually she doesn't come back. After a few failed attempts to be in his children's lives, foiled by his own mistakes, she cuts off contact entirely, and he never gets to see his children grow.

He hasn't performed for years at this point.

It's the beginning of the 70's, and he's been drifting aimlessly ever since his divorce about twenty years ago. He's homeless now; not the first time he's been in this predicament.

A passerby was nice enough to give him a beer. No way in hell can he deal with this shit sober.

He finds himself by a lake. He has nowhere else to be; might as well be here. The air is cold, and no one is here to swim or fish. He's left alone to walk along the lakeside, lost in his thoughts of how he ended up here and where he's going to get his next drink. The rocks are slippery beneath his feet, but he barely notices or cares.

He's barely even aware of his surroundings as he slips, smashes his head into a rock, and sinks beneath the lake's surface.

No one ever reported him missing.

[superman86to99]

Legends of the World’s Finest #1-3 (1994)

A sequel to the classic World’s Finest miniseries (the one where Superman gives Batman a VHS copy of Zorro for Christmas) that ups the weirdness by like 666%. If the original mini was about “What if Superman and Batman traded villains?” this one is about “What if Superman and Batman traded dreams and got mixed up in a satanic plot to rule the world via half-Kryptonian, half-Irish super-babies?” Don’t act like you’ve never wondered about that.

This whole mess is triggered by an impertinent Irish teenager going snooping in the ancient castle of the Clan McDougal -- the place where Silver Banshee fell victim to the sexist curse that turned her into a monster centuries ago (as seen in 1988′s Superman #23). The girl finds a mysterious book in the castle and decides to perform a ritual from it, because they don’t have horror movies in Ireland. The ritual summons a demon called Tullus, who hijacks the girl’s body to bring Silver Banshee back. Turns out Tullus is Banshee’s grand-grand-grand-etc-daddy and the one responsible for her curse. Banshee isn’t exactly thrilled by the family reunion, until Tullus says he just wants to break the curse and finally allow her to take that pesky Día de los Muertos make-up off her face.

According to Tullus, the only way to break the curse is to defeat the ruler of Hell, Lady Blaze, who kept him enslaved for 1,000 years before that girl stumbled upon that book. Tullus says they’ll need some help to do this, so he magically looks up the world’s finest warriors and finds out about Superman and Batman. Unfortunately, he thinks the former is too much of a goody-two-shoes to be of any use when dealing with satanic curses (even though Superman has defeated Blaze multiple times before) and the latter isn’t powerful enough. Instead of just asking both for help, Tullus decides it would be easier to cause Superman and Batman to switch dreams and, therefore, personalities.

So, Superman suddenly starts dreaming about Jor-El and Lara getting shot down in an alley after a night at the movies...

...while Batman dreams about feeling extremely out of place in a planet full of shiny towers and bright green sci-fi tunics.

As a result, Superman becomes way darker and more violent (he almost kills some criminals until Lois Lane intervenes) and agrees to help Tullus and Silver Banshee against Blaze despite their obvious shadiness. Meanwhile, Batman starts doubting his violent methods and becomes, well, kind of a wuss. But, as the narration reminds us, courage is not the absence of wussiness; it’s finding the will to face it.

As they work together against Blaze, Banshee starts feeling attracted to the darker, edgier Superman (must be the 5 o’clock shadow that spontaneously appears whenever he’s turning evil) but she’s frustrated by his devotion to Lois. Banshee ends up impersonating a harlequin on the street to sell Lois a magical balloon that somehow turns her into a mute child, which makes Superman forget all about her and give in to his lust for Banshee. This is disturbing for a number of reasons, starting with the fact that, uh, isn’t Banshee using the body of a teenager in these panels?

Tullus and the lovebirds up there go to Hell and defeat Blaze with the help of an army of Irish zombies. Then, Tullus’ first act as new Lord of Hell is to invite his demonic subjects to a nice wedding ceremony for Superman and Banshee at old McDougal Castle. At this point everyone sorta forgets that Tullus’ goal was supposed to be ending his family’s curse -- now he wants to “foster a new race of super-beings” by “joining mortal and demon” (carnally, I guess).

However, Batman works up the courage to crash the wedding wearing the skin of a demon he slayed in a sewer and interrupts the proceedings. Since he’s seriously underpowered, he makes a deal with a weakened Blaze, who decks him out with an armor straight out of a ‘90s toy line. This is when we finally get the fight between Cool Demonic Armor Batman and Edgy Possessed Superman promised by the third cover at the top of this post.

Plot twist: Turns out that Banshee actually cares for her would-be husband, since she’s desperate to help Superman in the fight against Batman. Tullus, however, is like “Nah, let’s see what happens” and forcefully stops Banshee, which is when she realizes that he never gave a crap about ending their family’s curse (or about her in general). Banshee actually gives up her new body to free Lois, then begs her to “Save him, woman! Save my love...” as she banishes.

Superman and Batman end up unconscious during different points in their fight and get their original dreams back, turning them back into their old selves. They join forces to defeat Tullus, his demons, and Blaze (who of course betrays Batman the second she doesn’t need him anymore) and throw them all down into Hell. Both agree that the other one has disturbing dreams, and Superman reassures Lois that he think she’s hotter than Banshee.

We end with that teen from the beginning dropping off the book in the castle and getting the hell out of there while probably promising herself she’ll never read another book ever again.

Character-Watch:

It’s interesting that this miniseries has a lot more Batman villains than Superman ones (Man-Bat, Two-Face, Joker, Riddler, Killer Croc, Penguin, and Catwoman are all in it) but a lot more Superman continuity. Early on, we find out Blaze is still sore about the time Superman went down to her domain and retrieved Jimmy Olsen’s soul. There are several references to Superman #23, including appearances by the ancient ghost lady who banished Banshee to Irish Hell in that issue. She helps Batman at one point, and the story ends with the revelation that she’s Tullus’ mom.

As far as I can tell, Tullus never showed up again™ and no other comics have brought up the fact that Silver Banshee is in love with Superman and once sacrificed herself for him, but I could be wrong. There IS a Silver Banshee miniseries written by this one’s artist, Dan Brereton, which came out in 1998, but I haven’t read it yet so I don’t know how connected it is to this one. We’ll find out when we get there, if the world hasn’t been conquered by demons by then.

[mangoshorthand]

Before A Fall [Five Hargreeves x F Reader]. Ch 3 (Hard Feelings Part 2)

SUMMARY: As your life begins to grow around Five's, his attitude becomes a little sinister. When does protection become suffocation and when does taking matters into your own hands become betrayal? (weekly updates) Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three - Chapter Four - Chapter Five - Chapter Six - Chapter Seven - Chapter Eight - Chapter Nine - Chapter Ten - Chapter Eleven - Chapter Twelve

An overheard conversation causes a fight and a visit to Santi's school ends in a sinister suspicion.

Fashy Five below. Proceed at your own risk

Chapter 3: Übermensch

It’s been a long day at work. After lunch with your best friend, you returned to the office to find everyone panicking: one of your firm’s biggest clients unexpectedly decided to jump ship and your boss, Joe, was on the prowl, looking for someone to blame.

When he seemed primed to blame one of your subordinates (who had only worked on a single project with them), you stepped in to defend her. 

In pointing out that there were many compound reasons (mostly unrelated to your team) for the client to not renew their contract, it naturally became your fault according to Joe for approaching the issue by ‘bringing problems rather than solutions’. 

So when you come in from work that night, frustrated and stressed, all you want is a cuddle and a head massage. You kick off your heels in the hallway and head in the direction of Five’s voice, issuing from the living room. “-not worth you being upset about.” “But they’re mean!” “And I’m telling you: what they think shouldn’t matter to you.” Santi sounds upset. You lurk in the entrance hall, not wanting to break in on this. Even with all the stress of this afternoon, you’ve kept thinking about his sad little voice this morning. You think maybe a talk with his uncle is just what he needs. “There will always be mean people. Has it occurred to you that they’re mean because they’re jealous? Maybe part of them knows you’re special and they’re not. Don’t let them push you around. Fight back, kick the crap out of them.” You’d been intending to head up to the attic and wait for Five there, but this and the timbre of Five’s voice gives you pause. “I don’t have nobody to play with.”

Santi’s voice sounds small. Five sighs, “Well, I’m not going to lie to you, little man. Ours is a lonely life. We’re not like other people.” “…I’m like Alyssa.” A short silence follows. “Sure, Alyssa’s a nice friend," Five answers slowly, "But she’s not on our level. None of them are.” You lean into the door frame, hand against ornately carved dark wood. You can just picture him as he says it. Leaned back in an armchair by the fire, legs crossed. His ‘man-to-man’ tone is particularly off-putting. It’s as if he’s about to offer Santi a cigar and a glass of cognac. “Huh?” “The problem with having our gifts, Santi? They set us apart from other people. We’re stronger, we’re faster. We’re exceptional.”

The word niggles at you, ringing tiny alarm bells. Maybe he’s just phrased it poorly? “What does esseptional mean?” Santi asks. “Exceptional: Extraordinary. Above and beyond normal people. We can do things they can’t do, have lives they could never dream of. We’re just better than them.” There’s a pause now. This is more than poor phrasing. You feel like you should stop this, but there’s just a void where the volition to act might be; to hear the man you love speaking like this…and to a child? It’s chilling. It sends a little rush of anger into your chest, a little spike of adrenaline.

When Five’s voice drifts to you again, he’s contemplative. “Y’know Santi- it could be we’re the next stage. For humans, I mean. But for now it means that we have a lot of responsibility and a lot of burdens to bear.”

You find you share a certain telepathy with Klaus, and today is no different. He’s sensed your mood. So far, your quietness has fallen under Five’s radar, occupied as he is with Santi. For now, it’s just nice to have another adult around to act as a buffer between you. This adult in particular is especially welcome: his personality can fill the absence of at least three others. Tonight, he’s more than usually voluble, perhaps in a deliberate attempt to shield you. Now, he encourages Santi to play with his pad thai. As Five struggles to restore some semblance of table manners, Klaus forms a couple of noodles into a second mustache and pulls a face at him. “Don’t listen to him Santi, he’s trying to stifle our creativity!”

“Yeah Uncle Five, don’t stifle us!” Santi giggles, wearing a shrimp as a nose ring. Klaus looks over at you, in the hope of extorting a smile. You give him one. In that small, but expressive moment, a small conversation passes between you. Feeling better?No, but thanks for this. Removing the shrimp, Five says: “If Mommy comes home to find Santi eating like this then it will be Uncle Five’s balls she puts in a vice, so I’d thank you not to do that.” Santi laughs more at the word balls.

Once Santi is in bed, Klaus makes himself deliberately scarce, sensing a discussion is needed between you even when Five doesn’t. He announces his intent to retire to his studio with odd ceremoniousness, letting you know that the floor is yours before he leaves you and Five alone in the living room. Five himself sits in one of the leather armchairs by the fireplace, holding a glass of scotch in his fireside hand. He looks exactly as you’d imagined him in the overheard conversation, lounging with legs crossed. You're sat on the far couch, almost as far away as the room can divide you. He doesn’t notice your eyes boring into the back of his head. Eventually, he turns his head and smiles, uncrossing his legs and holding out his arm to you in a gesture of supplication. He wants you to walk over, take that hand and maybe sit on his lap. You don’t move.

“We need to talk.”

A shadow crosses his face: concern, confusion and guardedness. You can see the defensiveness building before he even knows what you’re going to say.

“I’m all ears, dear one,” he says, smile rather forced. “Did you mean what you said?” “Huh?” “In here, today: what you said to Santi.” It takes a second for him to place what you’re referring to.. “Oh. Yeah…sure I did.” he looks nonplussed. “Is that a problem?” “You told him to kick the crap out of them.” “And?” “They’re seven years old.” He raises his eyebrows, amused.

“So? I could hold my own in a fight at that age. I had my first mission when I was nine.” “Exactly,” you scoff “and how did that work out for you?” He looks at you darkly and then looks moodily away into the empty fireplace. You continue to stare at him…encouraging Santi to violence wasn’t the worst of it. You try to give voice to what’s particularly worried you. “Do you think your powers give you some sort of…right over people?” “What?” his voice is icy. “You were saying you were the ‘next stage’ for humans or whatever.” He sighs exasperatedly: “Of course it sounds bad if you say it like that.” “You said you were all better than normal people.” “Well,” he shrugs, “we are.” “You think you’re some kind of…Übermensch?” He balks at the word, head whipping round to face you. “Don't be ridiculous." You let out a derisive ‘ha’ of humorless laughter. “Come on, Five. I might be just an unpowered normie but I recognize fascist bullshit when I hear it!” “Fascist?” You don’t give him the time to formulate a response, the blood’s pumping in your head now. Usually, you default to tears in anger but today’s different. “So what about me? Am I on your ‘level’ or am I lower functioning or something?” “Don’t be so dramatic. You know I think you’re smart.” “Do you? Or is it that it’s nice to have me around? Maybe I’m nice to look at, maybe I make you laugh, maybe I make you feel less alone and maybe I’m smart enough but at the end of the day, I’m basically on the level of a labrador you can fuck?” Five slams his glass down and stands up. His hands go into his pockets and his jaw sets. He takes a full ten seconds to get himself under some semblance of control. You can see the unuttered invectives flickering in his eyes. Finally, he speaks in clipped tones. "Funny. Now you mention it, you're certainly not acting like a being capable of higher thought." Your eyes lock in confrontation; both daring each other to step even further over the line. The rage between you is directly proportional to the intensity of your love, its presence making the slung comments all the more sore. Your jaw sets as his chin tilts. When he speaks again, his would-be-casual tone belies the resentment simmering beneath: "I think it’s best if I have an early night and give you a chance to calm down.”He heads for the door, his speed proving his continued anger. As he sweeps through the entrance hall, you yell after him “Okay, Mengele. No need to wait up!”

The next few days were frosty. Though you both took care to play nice in front of Santi, it’s been hard to stop the atmosphere affecting him. 

After the fight, all you wanted to do was call Ellie to vent, but you thought better of it after thinking about how she was over your lunch that day. She’s having a hard time of things herself at the moment, having just lost her grandmother, and it wouldn’t be right to bother her with this. 

Furthermore, you didn’t want to inflame things further between Five and herself.They seriously butted heads when you were unconscious after your beating courtesy of Michael Monroe. 

He’d stayed broodingly at your bedside, sleep deprived and guilt-ridden. His attitude then had been one of snappish, slightly mad intensity. He had no time for Ellie’s feeling of greater claim over you, insisting that her care would be useless beside his ability to reverse time and bring you back from the dead if necessary. 

While he might have been technically correct, the vibes he gave off didn't exactly endear him to her. Though they’d been polite to each other since, you didn’t want to solidify that bad first impression by saying something to her that you might later regret. There was nobody else to talk to. Were she here, Lila would have leapt at the chance to trash-talk Five.Klaus was another option, perceptive as he is but, as Five’s brother, you thought his loyalty would always sway too far in his direction.

So, that night, still boiling with rage, you slept in one of the many spare bedrooms, thinking with satisfaction about him sleeping fitfully alone in the attic. Let him wake up panicking with one of his nightmares and see if he feels like ‘the next stage for humans’ then. 

On some nights, he wakes brushing imagined ash out of his eyes and panting. It can take him a few minutes to remember that he’s home and safe, no longer having to eat bugs or scavenge expired food from wreckage. So, you soothe him, propped up on your elbow, whispering comfort and stroking his hair. In the worst of these, he shrinks from your touch, wide-pupiled eyes rolling and unseeing; like a rabbit caught in a trap. On other nights still, you’re wrenched from sleep by a screaming, bolt upright figure beside you. Often, these cries are formless, but sometimes he shouts for you, for Dolores or one of his siblings. Then, just as suddenly as he sat up, he’s lying down and asleep again, never truly awake. 

He doesn’t remember these episodes when he wakes up, and you stopped telling him about them months ago. The idea that his mind could work in ways of which he is not conscious is unbearable to him. Night terrors, of course, being for lesser mortals than he.

But, as upset as you were, you only spent that first night away from Five’s bed. Your spiteful feelings about his night-time fears faded by the morning, to be replaced by guilt at ever having had them. After your first transports of rage were over, the idea of him waking up alone and terrified was unconscionable to you. 

Your love for him is now more fundamental than you’d like: how much easier to be able to punish him, to not care about his terror? You couldn’t leave him alone for long when his own mind betrays him. Over the next few days, you fall into an uneasy truce, contingent on the unspoken agreement that neither of you mention that day again. When he comes to you with a request a few days later, you keep your tone intentionally polite and neutral. “I got a forwarded email from Diego. There’s a meeting at the school I need to go to.” “Oh?” “Yeah. Something about student support for the second grade. It sounded quite urgent. “Alyssa?” “Probably.” “Do you think she’s deteriorated?” He shrugs and sighs, “Unlikely this soon, but I don’t know. Would you be happy to take Santi tonight and get him some dinner?” “Yes. No problem. We’ve been talking about going to the movies anyway.” “Thank you, dear one.” It’s the first time he’s used this endearment since the fight.

The school is a collection of sleek, modern buildings that simply reek of investment. Evidence of recent building work is apparent, with one building still covered entirely in scaffold. Hung from this is a huge lime-green banner, proclaiming: JUICED: X-PANDING YOUNG MINDS. Holbrook Elementary's new planetarium, opening soon!Five follows the trickle of parents through the main entrance and into a hallway that, to him at least, is an assault on the eyes. The walls seem to be made of LED-screen paneling which cycles through content simultaneously. Class information, a school map and exhibitions of student work are replaced every twenty seconds or so with more lime-green. Repeated dozens of times down the hallway in electric blue text is: JUICED- THAT X-TREME TASTE!Though Five has never been in an elementary school (or any school) before, the impression he’d formed through popular culture didn’t quite match up with this. Can a soda company brand a school? This seems too…corporatocratic to be compatible with an educational establishment.

 Every so often, the screens give way to vending machines in which JUICED seems to be the only drink available. Fully stocked lime green cans stand stacked behind the perspex in militant uniformity of lines. There are water fountains, Five notes, but they’re the only feature of the gleaming school that looks shabby. As he’s borne along by the people heading for the auditorium, he takes glimpses through windowed doors into classrooms leading off from the hall. He catches glimpses of plush furniture and high-tech solutions: 3D printers, VR headsets and yet more screens. Each student desk has an idling touchscreen integral to the table top; the JUICED logo drifts, slowly ricocheting off the edges of each screen. The auditorium itself is in the same style and, to Five’s mind at least, far too ambitious a space for an inner-city elementary school. It feels more like a conference center. Dozens of hexagonal acoustic panels in JUICED green and blue are placed at regular intervals along the walls. They form pillar-like arrangements with strip-lighting connecting them together. He takes an aisle seat on lecture-hall style seating. The head of the room is walled with more screens like those of the hallways. He can tell their nominal purpose is to aid the presentation of whoever’s speaking, yet their real function is clearly to advertise JUICED at every unoccupied moment. The principal steps up to the microphone’s lectern. “Thank you all for coming to this meeting. I know it was called at very short notice. I’m sorry to have not given you more of a lead up, but this is a very urgent matter." She clears her throat. "As I’m sure you’re aware, we have a second-grade student, Alyssa Johnson, who has been diagnosed with brain cancer. Last week, I’m very sorry to tell you that three more second graders started exhibiting symptoms: Cole Bennet, Joe Fredericks and Robert Smith.”

The hall breaks out into rippling mutters. Five leans forward in his seat.“Over the weekend,” she continues, “their parents informed the school that they have also been diagnosed with glioblastoma. The boys have been identified quickly which means their treatment is able to start early, but-”

Five stands. This can’t go unchallenged.

“You’re saying four second graders have glioblastoma?”

“Sir, could you please reserve your quest-”

He speaks over her.

“Four? In one school? Shit, in one grade? You realize the odds on this?”

He tilts his head, maintaining eye contact with the principal. When she stutters, he raises his hands and points a finger at her.

“How many kids get brain tumors on average? About five thousand a year? And how many of those are glioblastoma? It’s gotta be under fiver percent. Are you telling me that four of those two hundred-fifty kids go to this school? That's one hell of a coincidence.”

The principal seemingly decides that it’s useless to try to suppress this.

“Yes, we are aware that this is a strange cluster, but I can assure you that the possibility of a link is being investigated.

“Investigated how?”

She draws herself up, going into public relations mode.

“Well, I’m happy to say that JUICED co. has affirmed their commitment to Holbrook Elementary in our time of need. They’re taking all the burden of investigation upon themselves and have generously set up a fund to ensure that our sick children get the very best medical-”

Five shakes his head vehemently and steps out into the aisle, the better to pace, hands in his pockets.

“Are you this dumb?”

“Shut your mouth, asshole!” calls a leather-lung from somewhere in the seats. Five ignores him.

“What am I seeing here? JUICED plows money into this school, right? And for what? Advertising? Exclusivity? Just plain old ‘corporate responsibility’?”

He claps a hand to his head and then throws the arm wide.

“You think that’s it? And now, when four kids get cancer they start investigating and paying their medical bills? You think that investigation is going to be transparent?”

The principal sputters, a bit spooked.

“Does this not sound just a tiny bit like ass-covering to you?”

Tag list: (please comment to be added or removed.) @dilfjohhny , @sunsunhe, @w4stedtr4sh,@nevbrooke-555

Masterpost Alternatively, join me on AO3.  Here is a link to the whole series

[xknivesandpensx]

Like Pieces of a Puzzle

Chapter 13

Summary: What if Harry wasn't the only extra student called upon to participate in the Triwizard Tournament? Far from the most popular candidate, Draco not only has to take on the trials but also deal with his unexpected feelings for Hermione. Will he be able to face the challenges as well as follow his heart? Chapter length will vary. I'll be referencing both the books and movie versions. Some things from what I've previously written will be mentioned, all of which you can find here.  And for those who asked to be tagged: @dayane245love

Hermione tried not to watch Harry too closely as they descended into the dungeons after lunch. She knew Double Potions always caused him to be a bit petulant, especially since they shared class with the Slytherins (not that Snape aided in uplifting his mood either).

A part of her remained more concerned about his fight with Ron, given the two still haven’t spoken to one another and had no intention of trying to mend any bridges. It irritated Harry every time Hermione tried bringing him up so she settled on letting them figure it out.

“I finished your essay for you last night. Although, you really should’ve done it yourself considering we’re working on antidotes today,” Hermione mentioned, breaking the silence.

“Between avoiding everyone and the common room in general, I hadn’t the time. Thanks anyway. The last thing I need is Snape going on about another unfinished assignment.” Harry paused, catching sight of Malfoy and his usual crew standing outside the door.

Each of them wore large badges with the words POTTER STINKS glowing a bright green against a black background. Initially, Harry thought they had S.P.E.W. written across, seeing as Hermione kept pestering others about the importance of house elves. He should’ve known they’d never wear one.

He wished they’d stop blocking the entrance. It gave him no choice but to face the group when all he sought was to get Snape’s lesson over with. Harry already braced himself for another round of Hermione’s consistent chant of ignore them, said under her breath whenever someone commented on his champion status.

He didn’t care too much how Malfoy took to handling the situation. He appeared rather coolheaded on the outside, yet his anxious disposition on the night of their choosing remained locked in his memory.

“Like them, Potter?” Draco asked after noticing the pair. “It comes to no surprise you’re least popular. Even your own house thinks the worst of you for getting in the tournament. It wouldn’t surprise me if they started asking for some as well.” 

Hermione rolled her eyes, ignoring Pansy’s loud giggles and evident necessity to be right at his side. “Oh, how very funny. Really witty. I’m shocked you didn’t add anything more.”

Almost magnetically his gaze drew towards her. It hardly mattered if Hermione donned the same uniform as everyone else, she still managed to stand out against the cluster of students slowly filling behind. The second he saw her in such a light, an image of his parents flashed, forcing a steady reminder.

He suppressed what he could and pulled out an extra badge, offering it to her. “Want one, Granger? I’ve got loads. But don’t touch my hand. I just washed it. I wouldn’t want a Mudblood sliming it up.”

Harry’s embarrassment, cheeks lightly flushed after laughter erupted, quickly jumped to anger. He kept the feeling buried underneath for days and it finally found reason to burst through. Before he got the chance to take out his wand, he felt a pull at his arm.

“Stop! You’ll get in trouble,” Hermione warned, aware of what he’d resort to. She then faced Draco, unwilling to be fazed by the other Slytherins staring her down.  “I don’t seem to recall you minding me touching your hand when you needed help.”

Draco lost his smug smile, tensing slightly. He glowered, sneering instead. “It sad, really, that you’ve got to make things up. As if I’d ever let you come anywhere near me,”

“Which is more likely? Me creating a story or you denying it ever happened? I can’t see how I’d benefit from lying.” Hermione ignored the heaviness against her chest, all too conscious of the puzzled expressions forming after her retort.

He shrugged, trying to force an indifferent pretense. “I’m not denying anything because it’s not true. And actually, I don’t appreciate the accusation.”

Harry started to wonder when the two of them started having rows of their own. They always began between Malfoy and himself, then somehow switched focus whenever Hermione got involved. Their bickering almost reminded him of how she and Ron constantly fought.

Suddenly, the noise died down. Harry didn’t need to turn around to find out why.

“What are you all doing standing outside the classroom?” Snape asked, eyeing each of them, lingering slightly longer on the Gryffindors. “I suggest you get in your seats before I start docking points.”

Harry hurried in and settled in his normal chair next to Hermione, trying not to glare daggers at the professor’s back when his head turned. Positive a detention would’ve been given if not for the Slytherins causing the holdup.

Snape made his way to the front. “We went over the specifics of your assignment last we saw one another. You’ll be split into pairs of my choosing… so stop inching yourself closer to Miss Granger, Mr. Potter. It won’t help you any, I’m afraid. No, I think you’ll benefit from working alongside Mr. Longbottom. The two of you seem to be on par when it comes to your potion skills.”

Harry’s hate for the man burned deeper. He didn’t know what was worse, getting openly mocked or enduring Malfoy’s not so subtle snickering.

It surprised Hermione to hear her name right after Draco’s, though it looked like a couple of students from different houses were mixed together. She gathered her belongings, requiring a few steady breaths prior to joining the empty space at his table.

Ron, sitting next to Dean, gave her a sympathetic look, thinking it rather unlucky to have him as a partner.

“You may all talk quietly amongst yourselves.” Snape paused for a moment, slowly folding his arms. “I will check on your progress in an hour’s time. If I catch any fooling around or off topic chatter, make no mistake, I will fail you. Anti-venom is not excessively complex but it requires accuracy. I want you to brew them carefully. As for your homework, it is to be given to me at the end of class.”

Draco kept his observation forward. He fought the wave of nervous energy threatening to rupture his chest. It proved to be futile. With each intake of air another wave of apprehension surged, feeling more hostile than the last. She sat so close the scent of her shampoo lingered heavily in the air. Some kind of flower, roses he presumed. The florid aroma floated about them during any close encounter, it took until now to pinpoint the exact smell.

He suddenly forgot how to speak. The constant repeating of reprimanding thoughts in his head blocked the outside noise. Maybe he should just say it and get the words out before they choked him.

“Are you paying attention to anything I’ve said?” Hermione asked, having already lit the fire under the caldron and spread out their needed ingredients. “I’m sure you don’t want to be partners any more than I do, but I’m not willing to fail because of it.”

He snapped back into reality, too jumbled up inside to properly respond and instead commented on something else. “Why did you have to mention that in front of everyone?”

Draco regretted the question the instant it left his lips. He switched his focus on his potions book, turning to the correct page, thinking she’d leave it unremarked upon. Obviously, he was wrong.

Hermione threw fire seeds into the boiling water, sprinkling a little anjelica in while stirring. “You know, you might actually be a decent person to be around if you weren’t so hung up on blood status. And I only mentioned it because…”

She hesitated, wondering why herself.

“Because you always have to prove a point, isn’t that right, Granger? Can’t even keep quiet in class. How silly of me to possibly expect anything less. And make no mistake, it won’t happen again.” Draco skimmed the page before taking a knife to chop a handful of vervain.

“I didn’t realize it was such a big secret. Honestly, I’m not sure why I bother. If you don’t want to be nice to me than be a little more consistent. It’s driving me mad.” She muttered the last part, reflecting more precisely of her emotional state whenever he flipped the switch.

“Maybe I could if you stopped making me feel –– ” Draco cut himself off, directing his gaze downward. He almost let it slip. How stupid of a mistake and with so many people nearby. Not that either of them raised their voices above a whisper.

Heat suddenly rose to his face, thinking his must've brain short circuited for a moment. The crushing reality of practically saying it out loud compelled him to remain quiet in fear of admitting it in full.

Confusion flickered, her heart speeding up a bit.

“Feel what?” The words left her in near stumble. By studying his countenance, she noticed a vague yet palpable difference. Something about his expression threw her off.

“Nothing. Forget it.” He went back to make another attempt at their project only to stop, sending a glare her way. “Will you quit staring at me and get back to stirring.”

Resisting the urge to do the exact opposite, she obliged. Though not willing to let the matter slip by. “I’m going to take a guess based off how you’ve been acting and say you’re afraid you’ll start to like me as a person if you admit it out loud? You’re scared if we have a conversation or get along, you might think I’m no different than yourself.”

Her analysis reminded him of when they were stuck in a supply closet at Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop at the end of last year. She read him easily back then in regards to his boggart, understanding more than he wanted or thought anyone could. He denied the absolute certitude of her deduction then as he intended to do now. Given her accuracy, thankfully Hermione hadn’t probed further and picked the pieces apart until she realized he genuinely felt something romantically towards her.

“Brillian story you just concocted. Making it a habit, I see.” He tossed the vervain in the cauldron. The liquid took on a shade of light green. “As if it’s possible for a filthy little Mudblood to mean anything to me.”

Hermione fought the realness of his answer, asking the next question more for herself. “Would it really be so bad?”

“Yes,” he snapped, noticeably catching Harry’s attention. “How about you try shutting up so we can get this stupid assignment over with.”

She said nothing else in return, fighting the need to further press her belief. Maybe all she managed to do by pointing out what she thought to be true, subjected him to push back. Again. Or perhaps Hermione simply desired her assumption to fall in the right. It was as if the more time they talked, the more justifiable her affections became. Merely to fracture whenever he resorted to open contempt.

Draco’s arm suddenly shot out, grabbing hold of her hand to prevent her from touching the snake venom required to counterbalance the antidote. She clearly didn’t notice it dripping down the side of the vial. “Watch what you’re doing.”

Even a second of direct interaction would produce an injurious effect strong enough to be sent promptly to Madam Pomfrey.

A light static pulse embarked across his skin from mere contact. His blue eyes met a pair of brown as he saw her features morph into a shy, flustered sort of quality, bordering on surprise and uncertainty.

The whole class might be watching them and he’d never know. Draco’s inability to move, much less look away, blinded him to the outside world. He knew the longer he remained frozen, the worse off he’d be, yet he couldn’t detach his fingers. Right after saying he’d never allow it too.

The sound of squeaking hinges screeched loudly, jolting him back. Draco let go immediately, drawing away as far as possible. His lungs unable to function.

Colin Creevey scurried past the students and spoke directly to Professor Snape. “I’m supposed to bring Harry and Draco upstairs. Mr. Bagman asked to see them. I think they want to take photographs and interview the champions.”

A long pause ensued, for if it was simply Harry, a negative response would’ve been given. “Very well.” He glanced between the two boys. “Hand me your homework on the way out. Your partner will finish your assignment and their grade will reflect your own.”

Hermione kept still as he proceeded to leave her side. Several things were circling her mind. Mostly on Draco, who oddly seemed to react opposite to his spoken aversion. But why overanalyze? It bewildered her more than ever and frankly she needed simplicity. An easy flow into a relationship. Something he’d never give her.

Knowing that still didn’t relinquish how she felt by any means. 

Draco got out the door first, not very keen on meeting anyone’s eyes. At this rate he’ll end up admitting his feelings by accident. It left him rather tangled up inside.

Colin departed once they exited the dungeon (mentioning his need to fetch Cedric), only then did Harry bring himself to say something. He saw their entire exchange near the end, lacking the ability to hear them, of course. And given Neville’s faulty skills in potions, his knew grade would suffer.

He certainly hated the idea of photos and answering questions. The ridicule he already received hit bad enough. This held the potential of making it a lot worse.

Harry waited until they came into the entrance hall, quickening his strides to keep up, fully intent to be blunt. “What’s going on with you and Hermione?”

The question hit like the shatter of glass. If he noticed, who else did? “How about you mind your own business, Potter.”

“Funny, I didn’t realize there was anything happening between the two of you to mind.” Harry waited yet no response came. “You’ve been acting dodgy lately, more than normal in any case and it’s usually while Hermione’s around. I really don’t care about your reasons, though I can guess. Just leave her alone.”

“And if I don’t then what?” Draco stopped, looking rather peeved and scornful. “Since you’re so very bothered by it, perhaps I won’t leave her alone at all. I usually refrain from going out of my way where that Mudblood is concerned. I suppose I simply required the right motivation.”

A hollow threat, no doubt, but a good excuse if he got caught near her.

Harry’s attempt to retort vanished as they approached the classroom Colin mentioned while they were ascending the stairs, Draco gone from his side instantly. Exasperation flared, lodged in his throat. He’d have to give Hermione the heads-up once this whole ordeal ended.

[oshiawaseni]

I would like to know about your perspective on why he remembered this. From what I get, it's an angsty memory but maybe he's grateful for Uraraka's help with her insight (?

I had to go reread the vs 1A chapters to find the context hehe

No. It’s neither grateful to her or angsty in relation to Kacchan, at least. Izuku is going through his own personal headspins, which I’ll go into.

He was realising he is now in Kacchan’s position and could soon be feeling “the shame” she mentioned from having the entire class go against him to bring him back. If anything, these words affected Izuku in another negative way when he remembered them. The first time made him doubt the use of his own hand to call out to Kacchan. 😔

(This is a bit of an aside, but you know how this story is rife with parallels... yeah... he probably still regrets not grabbing Katsuki with his own hand in Kamino, just like Katsuki regrets not taking his hand when they were bebs. I wouldn’t be surprised if Izuku mentions this to him before the end.)

Izuku’s self esteem is already really bad. So he thinks them doing this is more proof that he’s not a fit successor of OFA. “You’re next” keeps replaying in his head, over and over, the pressure of his fate is weighing him down and destroying his spirit

that’s why he breaks away yelling “It’s I’m not the same as before!” aka someone weak and unreliable that needs babying by them. The angst we see in the above panel is his rejection of the worthlessness he’s always felt inside as a quirkless person and then as a fledgling hero-in-training that couldn’t control his power...

He just wanted to feel useful, to feel needed and to feel worthy of his responsibility. He had no source for receiving self-worth other than continuously defeating villains. This kept him fighting so hard to stay on his feet despite his complete exhaustion that overwhelmed him the moment he acquiesced when Katsuki made him feel cared for, needed and safe.

(Kacchan knew this and knew if anyone could save Izuku’s heart it was him trying to make up for their history, for the way he used to treat Izuku, bc he intuited that it was probably impacting him still.)

It’s not angsty by itself per se, more like his reflective “oh… so this is what she meant that time. But I’m not someone who needs help anymore! I’m the only one who can go against AFO!” (I think her words fed into his angsty feelings towards himself. How he feels not good enough… and I dive into this topic a lot.)

Exact same mental as when he faced Kacchan in DvK2. Vigilante arc Deku was once again trying desperately to prove his value and worthiness. I’d say that’s about 50% of the reason Katsuki didn’t want to call him Deku anymore. He knew every little thing that tells this little green bean he’s not worthless is helpful to the cause. (The other 50% is he loves him, accepts/acknowledges him as his osananajimi and is telling Izuku he wants them to be closer.)

And check this post out if you haven’t, it goes into Kacchan and Izuku’s mental some more :) Hope I could help :D

[fortjester]

Actually, a concept I've been chewing on for a while is the Saint’s titles. G1deon as the Saint of Duty (for Pyrrha), Augustine as the Saint of Patience (for Alfred), and Mercymorn as the Saint of Joy (for Cristabel). Now, we’re all well aware of how in deep to the whole Catholicism theme Jod is, and I recently saw someone offering Cytherea’s title up as the Saint of Sacrifice (cannot remember where I saw this and Tumblr won’t give me damn thing, so if you know please hmu about it or tag them because I don't wanna claim that as my own idea), which triggered something in my brain. Apart from Augustine, their titles all seem to be synonyms for the seven cardinal virtues. Duty/Diligence, Joy/Kindness, Sacrifice/Charity. yeah, it’s a bit of a reach, but it’s a reach I deeply wanted to explore. So, with that in mind, I experimentally (tentatively) assigned the other (deceased) lyctor’s with titles based on the seven cardinal virtues, and did a bit of analysis on each Saint based on this idea.

Cassiopeia I assigned Temperance (because, like, hello?? the break clause???), Cyrus I assigned Humility (ironic, no?), and Ulysses Chastity. I haven’t gone ahead and synonym-ed them because 1. that’s an exercise in confusing myself, and 2. Temperance/Diligence/Chastity sorta loop back around on each other, so why bother, lol. In any case, you’re probably thinking “hey, pump the breaks, Ulysses “sexy parties” the First as the Saint of Chastity? I’m out” and that’s totally fair, but it does also bring me to my next point:

Could the necromancer halves of each of the lyctoral pairs feed into the title designation? (you probably saw this coming from a mile away) could John be subtly roasting them? (probably not, but he’d definitely find it funny) let’s look at the corresponding deadly sin for each cardinal virtue.

Duty/Diligence is the virtue of being a resilient and persistent force, with emphasis put on its practice in study and as a professional credence– but it is also, most importantly, the virtue associated with unshaking and undeniable faith. Over and over in Harrow the Ninth it is alluded to that G1deon, while being the third Saint to ascend, is also the most loyal to the Emperor and the most steadfast in his goal to protect him from harm. When John asks for “G1deon’s” loyalty in Act Five of HtN (unknowingly asking Pyrrha), he receives it without hesitation, as he expects to. Even G– in Nona the Ninth’s pre-Res chapters, showcases a dazzling amount of faith in John: supporting his causes, fighting the good fight on his behalf, letting John cut off his fucking arm, carrying an armed nuke for him– all without much question, all without doubt or hesitancy. Which is all well and good, but now remember that Pyrrha was the reason his Saintly title was Duty/Diligence – Pyrrha, who commits to protecting and defending her little New Rho family as much as she possibly can; Pyrrha who fulfills Wake’s death wish in Act Five of HtN the minute she sees Wake has been caught by John; Pyrrha, whose love of those who were “put into the universe to rig it to explode” (pg. 120, NtN) often morphs into her self-imposed duty to make sure the explosion follows through, without interference – how can we reconcile that Diligence is often juxtaposed with Sloth? No one could say that G1deon was an inactive guy, nor can we say that his evidence backing up the Diligence aspect is unsubstantial, but Sloth as a sin doesn’t just refer to just hanging out doin nothin; it also implies that through a lack of purpose or task you’re inviting sin into your life (re: “satan makes work/mischief for idle hands”). And we know for a fact that unknowingly compartmentalising Pyrrha during his ascension meant he frequently lost time due to her surfacing, that he doubted that John could help him, or would help him without destroying him in the process, (doubt in the lord doth not diligence make!), and so kept silent about it, withdrawing into himself, becoming unsociable, single minded, solitary, and most of all cut off from those he served and swore he loved. Final point: who do we know who also, quite famously, fucked around and found out on the job? I rest my case.

Patience is paired with Wrath, and that checks out for Mr Augustine “she was a bloody monster...and you went and made her worse! [five seconds later] raised my voice. Apologies.” (- pg. 478, HtN) Quinque doesn’t it? No further evidence required! [bangs gavel] (Just kidding, let’s get into it.) Patience as a virtue is defined as the ability to persevere, tolerate, and endure without doubt or resorting to irritation and anger. It’s the virtue of taking the moral high ground (or, at least, not visibly or audibly throwing your lot in with the moral low ground), and remaining steadfast in your convictions. Of the two Lyctors we see most in HtN, it's widely agreed that Augustine appears to be the more composed of the two, but when it comes down to it, it’s clear he’s masking his own fury and general erraticism. Now, Patience is the Saintly title awarded to Alfred, whose most notable action was forcing his brother to ascend by taking his own life in a suicide pact with Mercy’s cavalier, Cristabel, which one might not associate so much with Patience. Alfred (or, rather, his pre-Resurrection counterpart in NtN, “A–’s little brother”) is also referred to as the “mediator”, and isn’t deemed particularly useful by John, but he softens this comment by saying he understood, that A– was pulling his loved ones close, that they all were. A–’s little brother is one of the first to die in John 1:20; “A—’s little brother was there … dead in the middle … shot from both sides. Nobody likes a peacemaker.” (- pg. 358, NtN), which I think speaks levels towards his Saintly title of Patience. Augustine on the other hand is the kind of man who plots his brother-Lyctor’s murder for no discernible reason; the kind of man who calls Mercy ‘unloveable’ and ‘unnecessary’ to her face with only bored sincerity in his tone; drops a space station into the River in order to kill John, uncaring of who else is on board when he does so. Augustine harbours a lot of anger very close to his chest and lets it out in short, controlled moments of destruction until the end. He lives in sin by refusing to let go of his anger, which is fine, I see why he does it, but it does mean I can safely brand him as Wrath.

Joy/Kindness butts up against Envy (the resentful desire for another’s successes or possessions) and doesn’t that just take the cake? Mercy, who fully snaps the second she realises John “hid” perfect lyctorhood not just from her, but from all the Saints, being the embodiment of Envy– directly juxtaposed with Cristabel (named “Joy” by John, and referred to by Augustine as “a total delight. effervescent. kind to children and animals.” - pg. 177, HtN) labelled as the virtue of Joy/Kindness? I mean, yeah, Augustine was also pissed, as was Cyth, as any of them would fightfully be – but Mercy specifically having that be the straw that breaks her back? Weirdly fitting. And there can be arguments made that Cristabel’s Saintly title is very surface level, but if we think about it, I can see a very real foundation in it. In the Nona the Ninth pre-Resurrection chapters, M–’s Nun is the first person John actually listens to about getting him to practice some semblance of self care again, and also his foremost support in sussing out the third aspect of the “trinity” of necromancy. She notably teams up with A–’s little brother to mediate the cryo team’s argument during John 1:20, and when John locks himself in his room to escape the arguing, she’s there with M–, who is yelling through the door, but she’s only kind to him. She prays for him, and she asks how he’s feeling. Given the everything about John 1:20, we’re not all as kind and forgiving of John as she was, but that’s her virtue – looking beyond it. And she comes back and tells him it's okay that he doesn't feel like a hero, and that she thinks he can save them anyway. And no one’s gonna argue that her suicide immediately following was a kindness, but it did allow John to do everything that came next, and as much as we know he regrets it, I can also see him perceiving that as a kindness.

And now it will all be on theorised titles, so bear with me.

Cytherea as the Saint of Sacrifice/Charity blows me away, bc Loveday of course knew she was either walking away with no Necromancer, when they came to Canaan House, or Cyth would ascend and she’d likely go back to Rhodes and never see her again. In the end, though, Cyth’s ascension hinged on Loveday’s devotion to her, and with the hope that Lyctorhood might ease the suffering of her illness, she made the ultimate sacrifice of giving Cyth her life. And Cyth then had to live the next myriad in agony, knowing Loveday’s sacrifice was all but worthless, along with mourning her and guiltripping herself, and getting told she’s the loveliest, the kindest, best of us all. “The most loyal, the most humane, the most resilient…I made her live ten thousand years in pain and she let me…” (- pg. 442, Gideon the Ninth). So, of course, I support this as her Saintly title. Sacrifice/Charity is paired off with Greed, which popularly is defined as the sin of “condemning things eternal for the sake of temporal things,” (- St Thomas Aquinas). What do we know that Cyth wanted? Revenge (seeking retribution/vengeance for a wrong or injury done to oneself or another, a temporary fix to gain satisfaction). Justice (the principle that people receive that which they are deserving of, fairness, harmony). She wanted to be taken seriously (“When you grow up awfully ill, you’re used to everyone making those decisions for you, and hating it…so you do tend to want to take everyone’s feelings as seriously as yours aren’t.” - pg. 365, GtN), she wanted to mean something important (re: labelling herself the vengeance of the 10 billion in her proper introduction to Gideon in chapter 35 of GtN). And most of all, she wanted to die (“There was no fear in her now. There was only anticipation verging on panicked excitement, like a girl waiting for her birthday party.” - pg. 401, GtN). She wanted things that last mere moments, as a person already doomed to immortality, and she wanted them to spite but also to use against John, someone we can safely call eternal.

So! Next up, we have Nigella gaining the title Saint of Temperance from Jod, versus the juxtaposing Gluttony. How is Cassiopeia gluttonous? Admittedly, I don't have a lot of basis on this one, but I'll vaguely wave my hand at Teacher’s whole deal and also sorta in the direction of Cassiopeia being mentioned as the only one of the Lyctor’s who could be relied upon to make a well cooked meal (despite the occasional severed fingers in food). Gluttony is classified as the overindulgence of something – initially they were talking solely about food, but in more modern interpretations this can also be interpreted to include material possessions as well – and even more specifically, the overindulgence of something, without care or guilt. St Thomas Aquinas asserted that Gluttony hinged on the sinner’s innate longing for that which they overindulge, therefore connecting the synonymous relationship between Temperance and Gluttony - Gluttony is a lack of restraint, where Temperance is moderation. I’ll now vaguely wave a hand at the break clause again, (“Cassiopeia the First left us instructions years ago,” said Camilla. “We left for a Lyctor.” … Pyrrha said, “Cassy played long games.” - pg. 293, NtN); C– going AWOL from the stakeholders and doing all the legal bullshittery for the cryo team as freelance early on, Cassiopeia’s ceramics collection, and so on.

Next up is Titania as the Saint of Chastity, versus Ulysses embodying the sin of Lust. Because we know very little about them post-Resurrection, and what we know of them pre-Resurrection is…inconclusive, this is probably my most weakly argued point, but bear with me, alright? Chastity as a virtue is a pretty close-minded concept nowadays (which lines up pretty well with Lust being the least serious of the seven sins) – Chastity is almost synonymous with celibacy, as it refers almost exclusively to refraining from any and all sexual activity, in Catholicism specifically prior to marriage. The broadest and least damning-of-sexual-exploration-and-freedom quote I could find on the matter is this: “By attaining mastery over one's passions, reason, will, and desire can harmoniously work together to do what is good,” which is paraphrasing a passage from the “Catechism of the Catholic Church”. As far as Chastity being a good Saintly title goes (so, kinda not; hope if this was John’s basis he picked a better synonym), it should hopefully fall under that kind of definition, rather than “celibacy is good for the soul” but that’s a whole other argument. In terms of the counterpoint, Lust, I want to touch on the concept of this sin often being perceived as the least serious of the seven sins. Lust is classified as the sin of desire— which is often translated to fornication, impure thoughts and actions, sexual misconduct, etc. but what is lost in this translation is that the desire is not for material possessions or of successes like Envy, Greed, and Gluttony are, but moreso (as per Dante Alighieri) the desire or “disordered” love for individuals. Therefore, Titania and Ulysses – who in NtN are literally John’s first constructs; lacking souls, consciousnesses, and motivations of their own; named for a Shakespearean Fae queen and a beloved old dog; loved as not just the proof of concept but the only ones of John’s friends who never questioned him – would of course succumb to the sin of desiring individuals (and, furthermore, individuality). There’s a distinction made in the religious definition of Lust, specifically that there’s a difference between Lust and passion – with passion being more morally acceptable, especially in terms of how it pertains to how one might practice their religion and the depth and weight of one's faith in their religion, meaning that Lust is not just the lack of restraint in ones passions, but the lack of restraint and perhaps lack of true emotion in the desire. In comparison, post-Resurrection, we really don’t have much information on their stories or characteristics, what they looked like, their relationship to one another, or even their personalities besides Ulysses’ tendency to engage the other Lyctor’s in spontaneous orgies. We know they were obviously alive this time around, since the other Saints would have noticed if they were constructs, but what does this mean for their souls? Did John pick them at random, or did he somehow recall the real souls of Titania and Ulysses’ bodies? Would it matter either way, which one it was? If he did recall the souls originally belonging to the bodies of Titania and Ulysses, would he tell them the truth the way he told Augustine and Mercy what happened before the Resurrection? Would they be able to recall some of it either way, the way Pyrrha seems to recall her life pre-Resurrection, and would this impact how they interact with John and the rest of the pre-Resurrection gang? And, most importantly, would this fuel Ulysses, after ascending, to seek out Lust in order to assert individuality? With all that in mind, I’m of the opinion that Lust and the corresponding virtue of Chastity work for them.

Lastly, Valancy as the Saint of Humility versus Cyrus embodying the sin of Pride. Humility, in specifically a religious context, is the recognition of one's relation to a deity (God, in Cyrus and Valancy’s case) and the subsequent submission to that deity. The idea is that through a lack of interest or preoccupation in yourself, you can come closer to and understand God better. In comparison to Pride, a sin which C.S. Lewis once referred to as the “anti-God” state, Humility is very like Charity, because it is selfless and it is modest. I find this interesting when put parallel with Cyrus and Valancy, as they’re one of the three pairs to be called to Canaan House that John didn’t know prior to the Resurrection. They wouldn’t even have the vague notion of familiarity the others would, and that must have felt a little isolating, to see John as a God, where the pre-res gang at least saw him as a friend as well. This is why I argue that Valancy could be given the Saintly title of Humility – if she projected that sense of reverence and a significantly more subservient outlook into interactions around or with John, that might have been how he perceived her. In terms of Pride, though, we can easily refer back to the nude portraits they apparently painted fo each other; Valancy’s elaborate wardrobe that Cyrus had transported in its entirety to the Mithraeum following his ascension; and the note in HtN’s pronunciation guide that reads, “...what set Valancy and her necromancer, Cyrus, apart was their sweet mutual shoring up of each other’s belief that they were the most attractive people ever to have been born, which is not a classical cavalier-adept virtue.” Interestingly, Pride is considered the father of the deadly sins, feeding into each, which might make it seem like too important a sin to be given to Cyrus, of whom we know very little about. For this theory/thinkpiece, I’ll let them have it, but it would be interesting to explore the idea of perhaps John and Alecto in terms of the religious definition of Pride and the way they both seem to view the Resurrection.

Now, you might be thinking, sure okay, I see where you’re coming from, fun theory, but what about Anastasia? Oh, you mean the one person who came the closest to achieving “perfect” Lyctorhood, falling short because of John’s intervention, sent to guard the Tomb until her death, living on as a revenant within the Tomb? Coming so close to perceived success, only to then lose someone you trust implicitly and who trusts you the same, not to mention all of this happening in front of your God? In HtN John even says of Anastasia, “After we—cleaned up—she asked me if I might end her life. Of course I said no. She had so much more to give. Later I would ask of her a greater and more terrible thing.” (- pg. 182, HtN), which states quite loudly what level of regard she held herself in following her failed ascension and Samael’s death. With that in mind, I now present to you the oft forgotten, long discarded, eighth capital sin: Despair (also referred to as “sorrow” and “dejection”). Anastasia, whose life became a mausoleum, whose home became a niche; whose life was reduced to that of an honoured name with no honoured memory, haunting the narrative in her absence, much like Gideon. Anastasia, who had a vow sworn to her by Alecto, one that seemingly put her into Anastasia’s service to succeed her deceased cavalier; whose bloodline then produced Harrowhark, the Tombkeeper that rolled the rock away at ten years-old, intending to die. Tell me more of sorrow! Tell me more of woe! Anastasia as the Saint of Despair just makes sense to me.

(“Okay but what about Ianthe? The Saint of Awe!” To that I say, “idk, Jod was drunk and depressed and not interested in being clever abt catholicism.” If anyone has any better answer feel free to give them, I’d love to hear them.)