#considering the whole remembering upon exit thing

[ultrakill-style-bar-updates]

Hello again, Jota. Any way you could get some form of map around this realm? Want to fully explore it.

*oh the robot's still here.*

- @ultrakill-style-bar-updates

[ oh— shit, gotta get into business mode.. ]

[[ JOTAPHOBIA.OS ACTIVATED. ]]

[ J:\\ HELLO AGAIN! ]

[parkerslatte]

Finding Home || Part Six

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: none

Summary: Y/N and Azriel enjoy a day out shopping and Y/N finds something that catches her eye.

Finding Home Masterlist

A Court of Thorns and Roses Masterlist

•••

As soon as Azriel was awake the next morning, Y/N thrust a coffee into his hands. Azriel took it, barely comprehending anything at all. If he didn’t feel Y/N touch his arm and shake it, he would have been sure that he was dreaming. Instead of the rain they had the previous day, sunlight streamed through the window, nearly blinding Azriel from where he was sitting on the couch. 

Y/N barely let Azriel sit around long enough to even finish his coffee before she thrust some of his clothes his way. 

“Get dressed,” Y/N said. “It could start raining at any point and we haven’t had weather like this in a while. Oh! And the market is on too. I want to get there before they begin closing down for the week.”

“Isn't it early in the morning?” Azriel questioned. “Everything will be open until long after midday.”

“That isn’t the point,” Y/N sighed. “I want to have a look around all of the good stalls! There is a jewellery one that I have been meaning to go to for a long time but I’ve never had the chance to go.”

Y/N fell back down on the couch and huffed. Azriel only watched on with amusement. The clothes on her figure suited her more than anything Azriel had seen her in before. The dress clung to her waist and flared out around her, stopping at her mid calf. The sleeves draped across her shoulders and gave it an elegant look. It wasn’t even the dress that gave Y/N an elegant look. She had always carried herself that way. However, the way she sat on the couch was in no way elegant. 

Y/N lightly nudged Azriel’s arm. “Stop your gawking and get dressed.”

Azriel’s mouth opened and closed, trying to form some kind of response but he couldn’t think of one. He thought she didn’t realise he was staring. 

Y/N smirked. “I see I’ve rendered you speechless.”

“You have not,” Azriel retorted, standing to his feet. He stretched his wings wide while stretching his arms. 

As he did so, he did not fail to notice Y/N now gawking at him. Azriel smirked. “I see you are now gawking at me.”

Y/N looked away, clearly flustered. “I– shut up.”

A deep chuckle emitted from Azriel as he walked away to the bathroom to change, leaving Y/N flustered on the couch. As he entered the room and closed the door behind him, Azriel let out a breath. He changed as quickly as he could, not wanting Y/N to continue waiting for him. As he changed, the only thing he could think of was Y/N and her excitement to look around the market. Azriel smiled upon remembering her utter joy and excitement as Y/N explained where she wanted to go. The light in her eyes never dimmed for a moment. Azriel hoped it never did. 

The moment Azriel exited the bathroom, Y/N was waiting by the door. She smiled upon seeing him. “Come on! Let’s go.”

Azriel followed her out of her apartment and into the bright sun. There was still a slight chill in the air but it wasn’t too bad for Azriel. If Y/N was cold she didn’t make it known at all as she simply linked her arm through Azriel’s and dragged him in the direction of the market.

***

Azriel could tell that they were nearing the market from the rise in volume around them. More and more people came into view until the whole street was crowded with different vendors and customers. Azriel’s shadows became restless around him as he surveyed the crowd. Azriel never considered himself an anxious person before, that had only become a recent development. For too long he had only held the company of his family and perhaps anyone who he was dealing with in Hewn City. Azriel couldn’t remember the last time he was in a crown this large. 

“Are you okay?” Y/N asked, her wide eyes staring at him in concern. 

Azriel cleared his throat, trying to sooth his shadows but no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t. They were betraying exactly how he felt. “I’m okay,” he lied. 

Y/N did not look like she believed him at all but she didn’t comment on it, which Azriel was grateful for. Azriel looked back out into the crowd and let out a small breath. As he went to take a step forward, Y/N unlinked her arm from his and trailed her hand down his arm to grasp his hand. She linked her fingers with his and gave his hand a small reassuring squeeze. His shadows calmed almost instantly and settled around him. 

Azriel looked down at her and gave her a small grateful smile. The feeling of her soft skin in his palm instantly relaxed him. 

Y/N gave him a small nod before taking the lead and walked them both through the crowd. Azriel had no idea where Y/N was going first but he was happy to follow. As they manoeuvred through the crowd, some people stopped and stared at Azriel, knowing exactly who he was. Normally Azriel wouldn’t care at all, but now, being with Y/N, he did. Some of the stares were judgemental and some even fearful. Azriel tried to offer a reassuring look to everyone he passed, but his attempts were futile. 

Reluctantly, Azriel let go of Y/N’s hand. Y/N instantly stopped in her tracks. 

“Why did you let go?” she asked.

“People are staring,” Azriel said, insecurity lacing his tone. “With some people I don’t have a perfect reputation.”

“And you think I care?” Y/N said. “Az, I know what you do and I know the reason you do it. To keep the people of this court safe. If others cannot see that, they are not worth your time.” Y/N linked her fingers with Azriel once again. “Now do not let go again.”

The smile that pulled on his lips was bright as Y/N held tightly onto his hand. Azriel never wanted to let go again.

“The jewellery stand is over here,” Y/N said. “If they don’t have any nice stock left because of you, Azriel. Mother help you.”

Azriel only chuckled quietly as Y/N dragged him over to the stall. Upon seeing the beautiful jewels decorating the stall, Y/N gasped. Azriel felt his heart skip a beat upon seeing Y/N’s face light up. 

“Everything is so beautiful!” Y/N exclaimed. 

She pulled Azriel closer to the stall and began to examine all of the pieces. She picked up a necklace with a small glass pendant in the centre of it. 

“Ah,” the vendor said. “That necklace is one I have been working on for a while. I added a small enchantment to it.”

Y/N looked at the necklace in wonder. “What is the enchantment?”

The vendor smiled and looked between Y/N and Azriel. “Nothing bad, I can promise you that. But if you choose to buy it, the enchantment will show to whoever touched the glass pendant.”

Y/N lightly touched the pendant. Nothing happened.

“It is rather beautiful,” Y/N said. “I’ll take it.”

The vendor smiled. “A beautiful necklace for a beautiful lady.”

Y/N looked at the ground, slightly flustered at the vendor's compliment. The hand not holding Y/N’s clenched. He wasn’t sure why. 

“That will be one hundred gold marks,” the vendor said. “One hundred and ten if you would like it gift wrapped.”

“Just the necklace itself is fine,” Y/N said, digging in her small bag for the money. She handed it over to the vendor. 

The vendor gently placed the necklace in Y/N’s hands. “Thank you.”

“If you like anything else, let me know,” the vendor said before moving to serve another customer. 

Y/N turned to Azriel. She held out the necklace to him. “Can you put this on for me?”

Azriel took the necklace from her and Y/N turned around and lifted her hair from her neck. A waft of Y/N’s shampoo hit him and Azriel closed his eyes. It was one of his new favourite scents. 

He took a small step closer and wrapped his arms around Y/N’s head letting the pendant of the necklace rest sternum. Y/N shivered as the cold glass made contact with her skin, causing goosebumps to spread across her body. The clasp was simple but Azriel struggled as his fingertips brushed her skin. Y/N leant back into the touch, seeming to seek more.

Azriel wasn’t sure why but all he wanted to do was wrap his arms around Y/N and pull her to his body and bury his head into the crook of her neck. To breathe in her scent. To just be close to her. That was all he wanted all the time–

He hadn’t known her long. They barely ever knew one another. Y/N didn’t even know how he had gotten the scars on his hands. What if his thoughts scared her off? What if she was put off by her seemingly becoming his best friend in such a short amount of time? If Azriel were in Y/N’s position, he would feel that way. Why wouldn’t she?

“Az?” Y/N’s melodic voice cut off his thoughts. “Have you clasped it yet?”

���Oh,” Azriel said, quickly clasping the necklace together. He let his fingers linger for a split second longer before he took a step back, perhaps a little larger than necessary. “Yes.”

Y/N smiled and turned around. “Well? How does it look?”

Azriel looked down at the small glass pendant hanging on a delicate silver chain. Y/N’s eyes lit up as she waited for Azriel’s answer in anticipation. Azriel couldn’t help but answer; “Beautiful.”

He wasn’t just talking about the necklace. 

Y/N didn’t respond as her eyes fell behind Azriel and her breath hitched in her throat. Azriel frowned and his gaze followed Y/N’s until they found what she was looking at. They were a pair of sapphire earrings. 

“They look just like the ones my mother had,” Y/N said as she picked them up from the table. “I never remembered her wearing them but my father kept them close after she passed. He told me she wore them all the time.”

“What happened to them?” Azriel asked.

Y/N shrugged. “Before I moved here, I lived somewhere that wasn’t the safest. Many break ins. I always thought my building was secure, but when I came back home one day, my whole apartment was flipped upside down and the earrings, along with other valuable items were gone.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Azriel said, his hand brushing lightly against her back. 

Y/N offered him a tight smile. “There’s nothing to apologise for. It has been a long time since then.”

Y/N caught the vendor's attention. “How much are these?”

“Ah, I see those have caught your attention,” the vendor said and Azriel was already annoyed by them just as he had been before. “Those earrings took me a while to obtain and even longer to polish to perfection. The price doesn’t come cheap.”

“How much?” Azriel asked, agitated.

The vendor smirked. “Eight hundred gold marks.”

Y/N’s eyes widened the smallest amount. Not noticeable to the vendor but clearly noticeable to Azriel. She placed the box with the earrings inside back down on the stand. “Thank you, but I’m afraid I cannot afford them.”

“I’ll take them,” Azriel said. 

This time Y/N’s eyes widened a lot, clearly in shock. “Azriel, you cannot buy them.”

“I can,” Azriel said as he began to count out the money. “And I will.”

Y/N clutched Azriel’s bicep as he counted out the money. “Azriel. You cannot spend eight hundred gold marks on some earrings! That is more than I earn in two months.”

“I have money in my account that I do not know what to do with,” Azriel said. “Let me buy these earrings for you, Y/N. I can see how much you liked them.”

“No, I won’t let you buy them,” Y/N said and pushed Azriel’s hand back down. “Let’s go.”

Before Azriel had the chance to shove the money in the vendor’s hand and take the small velvet box, Y/N had pulled him away from the stand. Azriel fought her the whole way as she stopped at a small bench. 

“Why didn’t you let me buy those earrings for you?” Azriel questioned. 

“Because spending seven hundred marks on two silly little jewels to decorate my ears is stupid,” Y/N explained.

“We both know that is not the reason you wanted those earrings,” Azriel said and sat down on the bench. 

Y/N sighed. “I know. But it was just overwhelming. I haven’t known you for long and you were willing to lose that amount of money over me just because I liked something. How do you even have that money to even consider spending it on me?”

“I have worked as this court's spymaster for nearly my whole life,” Azriel said. “I never really buy anything for myself so over the years, the sum has just added up.”

“Why don’t you buy anything for yourself?” Y/N asked. 

Azriel shrugged. “I never need to. Rhys always supplied us with any weapons we may need. I don’t buy materialistic possessions because I don’t feel the need to have them. The only major thing I can even remember buying recently is my apartment. I bought it outright so I don’t need to pay rent on it.”

“Wow,” Y/N said. “That is really sad.”

“What?”

Y/N suddenly gripped his arm. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way. I just meant that it is sad that you have no need to have materialistic possessions. I love buying new things, especially when I go to new places. You’ve been inside my apartment, you see how much stuff I have.”

“And you’ve been inside of mine,” Azriel said. “You’ve seen how little I have.”

Y/N smiled sadly. “Okay, today, make me a deal.”

“What?” 

“Spend some money on yourself. It doesn’t matter what it is, even if it is something silly and a little bit stupid. Because you may not realise it but those things can hold sentimental value with a little bit of time,” Y/N explained. 

“Y/N–”

“Promise me,” Y/N said, holding out her pinky. 

“Seriously?” 

“Seriously.”

Azriel huffed a sigh before linking his pinky with hers. One of his shadows wrapped around her hand and lightly caressed her skin. Y/N smiled in delight. “Do they always do that?” she asked.

“Only to those I like,” Azriel said. His shadows had never caressed or interacted with anyone when Azriel’s didn’t wish them to. With Y/N, it was as if he were trying to put a leash on a feral dog. 

“You like me?” Y/N asked. 

“Of course I do,” Azriel said. “I wouldn’t be with you right now if I didn’t, would I?”

Y/N smiled as she slowly linked their fingers together. “Tell me if I’m too forward but– no I can’t say that. You’’ think it’s weird.”

Azriel smiled softly. “Tell me.”

Y/N giggled and Azriel felt a shiver go down his spine at the sound. “No. It’s embarrassing!”

“I won’t laugh,” Azriel replied. “Whatever it is.”

“I just–you’ve become one of my best friends really quickly,” Y/N admitted. “I never thought when I spoke to you on that park bench that you would become such a prominent presence in my life.”

Azriel was touched by her words. His eyes instantly lost the humour and amusement and filled with pure tenderness. “That isn’t stupid, Y/N. Not at all.”

“I mean it is,” Y/N said. “We haven’t been friends for long.”

“That doesn’t matter to me,” Azriel said. “And I actually feel the same way about you. I just never wanted to say it aloud in case I scared you away.”

Y/N squeezed Azriel’s hands, whether it was intentional or not, Azriel couldn’t tell. “You could never scare me away, Az.”

The moment Azriel smiled, Y/N took her hands from his and gently cupped his face. “There’s those dimples I love.”

Azriel rolled his eyes. “Does this mean I can buy you the earrings now that we have had a heart to heart?”

“You can buy me lunch instead,” Y/N said. “There’s a small restaurant just around the corner that I have always wanted to try. They should have their lunch menu now. We can have lunch and continue our adventures in the market after.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Azriel said, rising to his feet. “Shall we go?”

Y/N stood next to him. This time, Azriel initiated contact first as he linked his fingers through hers. Y/N gave Azriel a cheesy grin before they fought through the crowd in the direction of the restaurant.

***

“Okay, I am sure I have spent enough money today,” Azriel said as he looked at the bags surrounding him. 

Y/N peeked inside one of the bags. “Oranges? Really Azriel?”

“I like oranges,” Azriel defended. 

Y/N huffed a laugh before patting her side. Her eyes widened in terror. “No, no, no.”

“What’s wrong?” Azriel asked, suddenly serious. 

“I left my bag somewhere,” Y/N said. 

“When was the last time you had seen it?” Azriel asked. 

“I don’t know,” Y/N said, panicking. “The restaurant perhaps?”

“We can go and search there now,” Azriel said, standing to his feet. 

“I can go,” Y/N said. “It’s my bag, my responsibility. And it saved us lugging all of the bags around.”

“Are you sure?” Azriel said. “I can go with you.”

“I’m sure, Azriel,” Y/N said. “I’ll be back soon.”

Y/N left in a hurry without another word and left Azriel alone on the bench. He looked around at all of the bags. Even though Y/N had told him to buy things for himself. He had also snuck a few things amongst the rest for her. Another blanket that he knew she would love. A few scented candles. A small wicker basket she had been eyeing. Y/N had seen Azriel purchase it, he defended himself by saying that it would be perfect for the task of having a picnic. Azriel could only hope that would be on the list. 

As he looked around at the world surrounding him, Azriel’s gaze fell upon the vendor selling jewellery. Like the others around them, they were packing everything away. Azriel suddenly shot to his feet. 

“You,” Azriel pointed to a young male, at most fifty years old.

The young male stopped in his tracks and turned to face Azriel. “Yes?” He asked, his voice trembling. 

“Look after the bags here,” Azriel said. “Make sure no one touches them.”

The young male nodded and stood next to the bags, as stiff as a door. Azriel nodded to him before marching up to the jeweller. “Do you still have those earrings?” 

“Ah, so you return,” the vendor said.

“Earrings? Yes or no?” Azriel asked. 

“Perhaps I have them,” the vendor said. “But as it is past closing, the price will be raised for my after hour services.”

Azriel rolled his eyes. “How much now?” 

“One thousand gold marks,” the vendor said. 

Azriel scoffed. “You cannot be serious.”

“As death,” the vendor said. “Do you even know what those earrings are made out of? They may look like sapphires but they are made out of the crystal of a fallen star. I would say that I am doing you a deal. Do you realise how rare a fallen star is?”

“Do you realise I can go to the High Lord and tell him that a vendor is overcharging for fake jewellery?” Azriel threatened. “Some of this is real, yes, but you have mixed fakes amongst it all and still charge the same amount.”

The vendor shrugged. “Whatever pays the bills.”

“Was the necklace you sold Y/N real or was that just another one of you scams to get her to buy it,” Azriel questioned.

“I can assure you, shadowsinger, that the necklace I sold your dear friend was certainly real. The enchantment I cannot say exactly what it is as I do not know myself. I was experimenting and I do not know which one took hold. But I can assure you that they were all safe,” the vendor explained.

They tell the truth, his shadows whisper into Azriel’s ear. 

“So,” the vendor began, “the earrings. Perhaps since you work for the High Lord, I will give you a discount. Nine hundred and fifty gold marks instead. A small discount goes a long way.”

Azriel huffed and handed over the money. 

“Pleasure doing business with you,” the vendor said as they handed over the box containing the earrings. 

With a snap of their fingers, the vendor was gone along with their stall and everything else. Azriel blinked as he remained standing there, staring where the stall once was. 

“Azriel?” Y/N said. “What are you doing?”

Azriel quickly shoved the box into the pocket of his jacket and turned to face Y/N. “I just thought I saw something. Did you get your bag back?”

Y/N held it up. “Luckily I left it at the restaurant and they kept it safe for me.”

“That’s good,” Azriel said, taking a step closer to Y/N. 

As they walked back to the bags, Azriel gestured for the young male to leave, which he did, rather quickly. 

“We should be getting home now,” Y/N said. “My feet hurt from standing up all day.”

“I agree,” Azriel said. 

Y/N scoffed. “You are a warrior. You told me that you train nearly every day. You cannot complain about your feet hurting.”

Azriel rolled his eyes. “In my defence, I haven’t kept on top of my training.”

Y/N laughed. “A couple of weeks with no training and now your feet hurt too much to stand.”

“I never said that,” Azriel defended himself. 

“Wow, I cannot believe the big tough shadowsinger is complaining about his feet hurting,” Y/N teased. 

“I am not complaining,” Azriel said, fighting the urge to smile.

“You are!” Y/N exclaimed. “Just wait until I tell–”

Y/N never finished her sentence before Azriel had swooped her up and lifted her over his shoulder. She clutched onto him tightly as she shrieked in surprise. 

“Azriel!” Y/N said, lightly hitting his back. “Put me down!”

“No,” Azriel said. “Not until you apologise for your teasing.”

“But I thought you liked being teased?” Y/N said. 

Azriel felt a burning blush coat his cheeks. He was glad Y/N couldn’t see. 

“Let me down!” Y/N complained.

“I didn’t hear an apology,” Azriel said.

“Okay, I’m sorry,” Y/N said through her laugh. 

“That wasn’t so hard was it?” Azriel said. 

As he let her down, Y/N didn’t step back instantly and neither did Azriel. The two stood there simply staring at one another, Y/N’s arms wrapped around Azriel’s neck and Azriel’s arms wrapped around Y/N’s waist. Azriel thought Y/N couldn’t look any more radiant. Her hair was dishevelled but somehow it suited her perfectly. Her lips were slightly parted and Azriel had a hard time looking away. 

A loud noise from another stall packing their goods away disrupted Y/N and Azriel, he let her arms drop from her waist and Y/N took a small step back. 

“Shall we go home?” Y/N said, offering her hand to Azriel. 

Azriel took it and linked his fingers with her, feeling deep within him pulse. Azriel simply ignored it. 

Together they picked up the bags and as Azriel’s shadows surrounded them, the two of them failed to notice the clear glass pendant hanging around Y/N’s neck turn the faintest shade of pink.

Taglist:

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[halaboyz]

oh?, choi san

classroom crush! ateez san x gn! reader (nonchalant vs oa lmao) FINALLY SOME FLUFF wc: 2.2k warnings: none that i know of a/n: i've done so much of this storyline i think this might be the last one of it

San remembers his first day as a returnee, striding down the hallway to his room, notes and pens tucked in his arm. Upon entering his room, was delightedly welcomed by one of the regular students- you.

"Hi, is this seat taken?" San asks cautiously as he points at the seat beside you, crouching to hear you better. When you turn your head to look at him, but instead, your jaw drops.

"Well aren't you fucking gorgeous," Is that even a whisper? San was astonished, blinking at you. It was needless to say that he was intimidated by that single line, feet discreetly stepping back and escaping the situation. "Sorry. Slipped. No one sits there," Your poker face confuses him more. You're a weird junior. You quickly focus back on your phone, as if you hadn't just said the most compliment San could ever receive.

"Ah, thanks... But I think I'll just find ano-," When he whips his head around to find another seat untaken, he panics. You don't look awkward at all, but San is. He doesn't want that. But there aren't any seats left, and he isn't close with anyone to strike a conversation just to switch seats with him. So he dejectedly takes a seat, scooting farther, maybe just a bit, away from you.

The day just wouldn't end like that, San just had to forget to bring an index card- the whole class did. And you just had to be prepared for it. Out of all his blockmates, it just had to be you. It makes everything hard for him when you hand all of your classmates a card one by one, when it all came down to him.

"You have one?" One was already hanging loose between your index and middle finger, handing it to him. It takes him a few more seconds before he shyly takes the card and thanking you softly, and he glances at you to see if you're really unbothered by the thing a while ago.

You really were.

At that point on, San had considered you a friend (he hopes you do too) that he can count on. Being a returnee wasn't easy, and you helped him adjust to the environment quite easily. You were someone who was blunt, straightforward. Unlike San, who overthought every situation he had been, and will most likely overthink the coming situations.

"Oh San. Hello. Are you at the room right now?" You quickly ask right when he answers your call. When he hums, "I forgot my extra shirt under my desk. Do you mind bringing it over here to the gym? Please and thank you."

Like you gave him a choice. He chuckles to himself, just agreeing and immediately getting into action. He retrieves your extra shirt for PE (which he, thank god, had taken already and passed the last year before he went for LOA) and jogs to the gym, where he finds exiting students already. When he asks a familiar face of where you are, they just point inside the gymnasium.

At last, the gym only had a number of students getting ready to leave, and he still doesn't see a strand of your hair. When he tries to reach his pockets for his phone, he sighs when he realizes he left it at your desk.

He cautiously walks to the changing room, where he tries to shout out loud, bravely, calling for your name.

"y/n... please come out, I have your shirt and there's no one else to ask a favor for," He thinks if you're even still there. But when he hears footsteps approaching he perks up.

Not until he sees you, though. He immediately turns red, and I mean literally red, and immediately- when he sees you only covered with a towel. He stands frozen in place, shirt in his hand reaching out to you.

"What, first time seeing a person half naked, pretty boy?" Your nonchalance was killing him inside. You thank him as you retrieve your shirt, asking him to wait for you since he was there already. As if you had just done the most normal thing friends do.

Or was San just not used to this friend-thing relationship that was normal for you?

"Hey, y/n. How are you?" San starts, the chair scraping the marbled floor.

"Good. You?" You reply simply, not even glancing at him.

"Good too," San nervously chuckles, but you don't buy it. With a simple whisper of 'spit', he folds. "Well... Not good, actually. I haven't been feeling well the past few days and I really want to stay in today but I had a quiz this morning. I really want to attend this class since I'm here already but my body's declining. Would you be so kind to share your notes for today?" San rambles, immediately feeling sorry for the inconvenience already.

"Okay." You answer, nodding at him. He waits a few more seconds to see if you'll add onto that, but nothing comes out. So he immediately thanks you, standing up and ready to leave when you grab his sleeve.

"Right, here. I've been meaning to give this." You throw him a small paper bag full of meds, "Get well soon. Miss you already," He doesn't know whether that was sarcastic or not. He doesn't care. What matters were the medicines in his hand, released from the pharmacy dated to three days ago, when he started feeling under the weather and has been doing everything to hide it.

He feels... weird. You're weird.

He remembers all that. That's how it has always been for the two of you. All along, he thought that he was the one who... he doesn't know. He doesn't even know, but all along he thought it was a him problem. Not a you problem.

So why were you here, in front of him, confessing your love for him?

Not the pretty-boy-adoration level, but a serious kind of level.

"I like you, Choi San. I think it's been for a while already." San couldn't figure you out until the end. So he figures that maybe, all this time, it's not a romantically-inclined interest he had for you, but a rather type of 'you're a weird-fun that's why you keep me on my toes' kinda thing.

And he doesn't want that. He doesn't want that for you because you deserve better. Just because you were a fresh air for him, doesn't mean that he'd only keep you to have his own part of fun.

"Uh... y/n..." He doesn't know what to say. He hopes to keep the friendship you've been building, but he also needs your keep of the decision for that. "Sorry, but..."

"Okay." You shrug, smiling at him. "It's fine. I get it. Don't worry, we can go back and act like nothing happened, right?" You didn't even let him finish. But he thinks he dodged a bullet there. Because of how he knows himself, he would've fucked it all up without meaning to if you let him finish. "Let's go back to the room?" You pat his arm, and you were back to being... unbothered. Like you didn't just get rejected.

Did San read too much romantic novels? Watch too much movies? To expect more reaction from you?

But apart from all that's raging his mind now, he follows you back to the room, and just like you- it feels like nothing happened. Maybe, it was better that way.

But when he asks your friend Yeonjun why he was going through your desk, and answers you asked to bring him your extra shirt and bottle of water to the gym, he's dumbfounded.

Not that he had some grudge for Yeonjun, but... hadn't you always asked him with that? I thought we're back to being whatever you were before the confession? Why was he now looking at Yeonjun like just committed a heinous crime?

But he lets Yeonjun off the hook (partially because Yeonjun was now sprinting out of the room to get to you and he didn't had the leisure to confront Yeonjun about it) and stares at the empty seat beside him, left with only traces of you.

Maybe, just maybe, Yeonjun crossed your mind first this time around, than San.

But well oh well, it happens again.

"Yeonjun, can you pass me the scale ruler, please? Oh and could you grab these plates unharmed and go with me to the office to drop these off before class ends," San was sure prior the confession, you had always asked him around. But now... what the hell?

"We can go now," Yeonjun stands up with no complain, getting all of the plates to go with you while you prepare. Why is Yeonjun acting like all of this is normal? Like... isn't he finding it weird that he's now the one getting asked around, not him?

San could now rip his hair all out for all he knows. He thought you wanted to go back to normal? Why is he noticing even the littlest changes now? Why is he so frustrated anyway?

His last resort was now two weeks after the confession, and everything has changed for him. Maybe just him, because he had started even noticing the smallest changes in your actions, or if it even changed- from the looks of it of other people's point of view, it didn't. But for him, a lot has changed.

"y/n, do you want to go get materials for the next project together later?" San encourages himself to initiate an offer, while the both of you were alone after a while, Yeonjun having something to cram on during break.

"Oh, San. Sorry, I already promised Yeonjun that I'll help him with his requirements later." You reply, biting your sandwich and glancing at him, then back to your book

"Tomorrow?" San was desperate. He wanted to make things right, but he doesn't even know if there were things to correct in the first place. Why does he feel so responsible and desperate when he's the one who rejected you?

"...You want to meet on a Sunday?" You slowly set your book down, gawking at him.

"That's a problem now?"

"Oh now your attitude's a problem." With his snarky remark, you immediately rebut it with yours. You were getting confused of how he has been acting, like... he's also confused. You were back to acting how you were before you confessed, only San wasn't.

"What about my attitude, huh?" San presses, scooting closer to you to annoy you more lividly. You scoff, amused at the newly found attitude your senior had.

"What the hell is your problem, San?" You scoff in disbelief, a smirk in your lips at the amusement.

"You know what, now that we're in the topic anyway, let me ask you that. What the hell is your problem, y/n?" He starts, eyebrows furrowing into confusion. Yours raise, because what the hell was he talking about? "You confess and okay, I rejected you, I was expecting that you will never talk to me again because that's how it usually goes, but then you say that we can go back to acting like it never happened."

"So? I did!" You almost try and fight him, if it weren't for his palm flying to your mouth to shut you up.

"You! Didn't!" San rebuts, "It's always Yeonjun here, Yeonjun there- did you not like me anymore just like that?! Have you moved on quickly? Do I deserve getting ignored because I was too ignorant of my own feelings?!" San was now mad at himself. He always was.

Because if you answered yes to all of his questions, the blame falls into himself.

He let you go that easily. Just like that. All because of his uncertainties, really?

"Of course I still like you, idiot! Do you think I get over feelings fast like that?!" You push his hand away, your panicked state was a reflection of his panicked state. You were supposed to be the cool one here, but hearing San panic made you panic.

"Then why the hell are you avoiding me?!"

"You're crazy, I'm not! I'm acting the way I am!" You exasperatingly fight back, because you know you're right. "You're overthinking things like how you always are, okay, I get it." You calm down, because if you weren't no one was going to. "I'm sorry, okay, I didn't notice this time around, I'm sorry I should've been more careful."

"Why are you apologizing now... I should be. You must be so confused of how I am acting right now..." San starts, shoulders drooping, lips turning to a pout. "I've only come to agreement to my feelings just now, y/n. I'm so sorry I came too late," San grabs your hand, caressing it.

You almost turn into a ball at how San was acting, feeling all giddy and happy at the same time.

"Really? San, I don't want you saying anything at the heat of the moment, you can take your time. This might only be because you were overly cautious of my actions after my confession which made you confused. You can take your time, San." You caress his hand with your other, smiling at him.

"No, I've just been trudging it out longer. I've been feeling this way ever since we met. But if I told you that earlier, it would've been weird, wouldn't it?" With a chuckle, you pull San for a hug, one that had been long overdue.

"Fuck Yeonjun, he can cram all by himself."

taglist: @sunlightwoo (answer the form on my pinned to be included!)

[writing-for-life]

The Portrayal of Womanhood in A Game of You

I’ll be honest with you: Writing about The Sandman with a focus on (queer) women surely feels different in light of the recent allegations.

This meta has been languishing in my drafts for a long time, and since I’m currently clearing the pile, I will still publish it. Mostly because these views are mine and not someone else’s. And also because they’re critical to a degree. However, if you feel that these are topics that you currently find hard to engage with, this is the exit sign (I totally get it).

With that out of the road, let’s talk about the women of A Game of You (and why it was always one of my least favourite arcs, despite the fact that my literary and thematic preferences should have made it one of my favourite ones)…

Gender roles are a central theme in A Game of You. Before the arc even moves into these themes on a deeper level, we already get this:

Barbie tells Wanda that she wasn’t allowed to read comics when she was a young girl. And that immediately struck a chord with me upon my first reading as a teenager: I was allowed to read comics, but I still remember getting the side-eye, especially from boys. Somehow, you didn’t belong to their club (even if you arguably knew more about Batman than they did 🤣). The reason Barbie gives us is that reading comics supposedly rendered her “unladylike” (yes, comics were considered “boyish”, at least when I was a teenager, and this is exactly the time we’re talking about here). But it’s not just about how a girl is supposed to act—it’s also about actively excluding her from something that’s only for men/boys. And while the topic of, “What’s a girl supposed (and allowed!) to be like?” isn’t something either particularly dwell on in that moment, Wanda faces the struggle of having to define and fight for her womanhood daily: As a trans woman, she feels resistance on a constant basis. When she talks about Weirdzos from the Hyperman comics, this is actually a nod to DC’s Bizarro, who could be described as Superman’s shadow (there’s a whole story why they were called Weirdzos instead of Bizarros in The Sandman, but that’d lead too far here. You’ll probably find it on Google).

Close enough to the “real thing”, but always “slightly off”

And Wanda carries the shadow of her biology. All the time. There’s no escape for her, no respite, no true support.

We also see this in a scene with Hazel, one of Wanda's neighbours who lives in a lesbian relationship with her girlfriend Foxglove. Hazel noticed that Wanda has "a thingie." Despite the fact that a lot of “weird” things are happening in those panels, part of that is definitely that Wanda has not fully (in Hazel’s eyes) transitioned:

What is she, exactly (not who)?

And that question gets answered very painfully when Wanda, Hazel, Foxglove, and Thessaly come together to free Barbie from being trapped in the Dreaming. Thessaly is sure she can defeat the Cuckoo that holds Barbie captive. However, she needs menstrual blood to perform a ritual that will allow them to traverse the Moon Road into the Dreaming. During this process, Thessaly insensitively refers to Wanda as a man and prevents her from joining the journey with Foxglove and Hazel (and no, this isn’t about “Thessaly the TERF”—I already made my position on that clear and think that whole discussion needs a lot more nuance than fandom is often willing to engage in).

Maiden, Mother and Crone

Thessaly's statement, "This isn’t your route. It can’t be," further highlights the discrimination Wanda faces on a daily basis. She “isn’t” seen as a woman now, and she “can’t” ever be, even if she had reassignment surgery—Wanda would still be seen as a man by the ancient powers that be.

Wanda's struggle, more than any other character's, highlights the ongoing conflict between self-identity and societal perception of women. And that’s unfortunately still a struggle most women face. But Wanda’s character is particularly poignant because she is repeatedly forced to reaffirm her sense of self, only to be torn down again and again. Even Barbie, who always supports her and would probably never knowingly hurt her, says this when Wanda reveals her childhood name:

“Alvin? That's your real name?"

Please imagine what it must feel like if even the ones closest to you refer to your dead name as your “real” name, even if it’s without malicious intent (of course Barbie makes good on that later, but…).

Wanda can never truly find comfort in anyone. She is constantly confronted with the disparity between her self-perception and how the world views her. Ultimately, Wanda's exclusion from entering the Dreaming (and there’s more symbolism in that than you can shake a stick at—not just because she’s denied her womanhood, but also because she is denied entering a place of hope and possibility, and not least because she is denied being capable and having agency: Thessaly repeatedly acknowledges Wanda is important, and that she needs her help. But that’s on her terms, not Wanda’s) leads to her tragic death: The storm caused by drawing down the moon destroys the apartment where Wanda remains to watch over Barbie’s body.

And that’s why Wanda’s arc in the comics will always stay problematic to me (I don’t know how optimistic I can be for the TV series, because we’ve already seen her headstone in BTS shots, even if her overall arc seems to have changed): Dream grants Barbie a boon, which she uses to save the women in the Dreaming, but Wanda is not among them. There is no saving her—not in this world, not in any other.

Wanda's conservative parents bury her with her deadname Alvin Mann (and her second name adds insult to injury, because it is the German spelling of “man”, as in “male”. And again, I’m somewhat glad they have changed this for the series, as seen on said headstone, because I never got why choosing that name was necessary in the first place. Or let’s say: I get it, but I don’t think it was needed and was layered on too thick. Sometimes subtle does it, sorry).

Why is Wanda so consistently shamed, while Hazel and Foxglove's lesbian relationship is regarded not a big deal (I’m obviously not insinuating it should be, see my disclaimer at the bottom of this post)? Although I have to admit there are things about that one that always rubbed me up the wrong way, too: The dumbing down of Hazel (honestly, most of us were not that clueless about reproduction in the 80s and 90s, lesbians or otherwise), the play on butch/femme stereotypes to then clumsily try to turn them on their heads (which did not work for me), the still somewhat male gaze applied to Foxglove (she didn’t have to sleep naked with her tits on display, did she?), the implication that all women somehow end up as mothers (if they don’t end up dead), even if just “accidentally”… There’s a whole lot to be said about the topic of motherhood, and how it gets instrumentalised in several Sandman arcs, but maybe that’s for another time...

To explore that question, I want to have a closer look at Barbie, who is a (in my view, often clumsy) stand-in for the gender-identity of many (CIS) women.

A quick throwback to The Doll’s House

The first signs of Barbie's identity crisis don't appear in A Game of You, but rather in The Doll's House. She is introduced as one half of “Ken-Barbie”: They finish each other's sentences, Barbie lacks a distinct personality and is completely overshadowed by being a “traditional wife” (maybe not the type of trad wife we think about today, and yet…). The fact that she and Ken share names with plastic dolls underscores the artificial nature of their identities and their relationship.

Barbie's dream-life always felt more authentic and meaningful to her than her waking reality—that’s why she is only a shell of herself when she can’t dream (after the vortex interlude with Rose Walker). She is passive, conforms to her father's expectations of being "ladylike" and adheres to “good” CIS- and heteronormative behaviour. And then, after her divorce, she feels uprooted, shows little motivation and relies on Wanda for support. Freeing herself from her shackles could have been a story of reclaiming her power without the layer of implied loneliness (I’ll get to that). Instead, she needs to suffer for a bit…

Barbie being trapped in her dream world also traps her in a state of passivity: Dreams are not real. You can make them real, but that’s not what she does—they are a maladjusted escape for her. And yet (or maybe rather “because”), instead of directly confronting and fighting the Cuckoo, Barbie smashes the Porpentine (much to the Cuckoo's delight).

Upon waking…

Upon waking, Barbie's personality hasn't changed much from the woman we first met. When she goes to Wanda’s funeral, she struggles to defend Wanda from her transphobic aunt despite trying.

However, she engages in a small but significant act of rebellion by crossing out "Alvin" on Wanda's headstone with her favourite lipstick and writes her real name instead.

Barbie then recalls a dream she had while traveling to Wanda's funeral. In this dream, she sees Wanda not as she was in life, but as an idealised version of herself—soft, more curved, and wearing a pink dress. Death stands beside Wanda, symbolising that she is recognised for who she truly is.

And I get it: The idea was to say, “She was always a woman, even to the cosmic powers that be. Eat that, Thessaly and everyone else.” But there’s also the part of me that wants to say, “You know what? She was good the way she was. Perfect in her imperfection. We didn’t need to affirm her womanhood by showing her as a stereotypical woman.” The use of “perfect” and “drop-dead gorgeous” always really rubbed me up the wrong way in relation to the way she was portrayed in that panel. Because it portrays a stereotypical woman: That’s what you look like if you need to/want to pass. And this applies, sadly enough, to all women in one way or another, no matter what gender we were assigned at birth. But if that scene holds meaning to people, I also get it. My more critical take on it is maybe down to my own history (again: disclaimer at the bottom of this post).

Simultaneously, the destruction of the Land in the Dreaming grants Barbie a newfound independence. She is now alone, without her best friend or the friends of her dreams, but these losses have given her freedom. And for a moment, loneliness becomes the ultimate resolution to Barbie's identity conflict. And I found that idea horrible, I’ll be brutally honest with you:

On the final page of A Game of You, Barbie is shown alone, waiting for a bus to an unknown destination. She reflects on her dream of Wanda, where she had the chance to say goodbye to her past life. For a moment, she stands rigidly still, and that moment feels… really long? Separated from her past and facing an uncertain future, she is free from anyone's expectations or desires. And maybe, in that simplicity, she finds freedom.

And maybe, A Game of You challenges the idea that we have full control over our identities. Our self-perception and how others perceive us are always influenced by external factors. And somewhat, I could never quite shake the feeling the story equates the removal of the ties that bind us (in this case: relationships) and/or death with freedom: Wanda only fully realises her identity in death, and Barbie feels most liberated when she is free from past entanglements and future obligations. Whether that notion is truly rejected in the end is probably down to the reader: Barbie turns and runs towards her bus, heading into a future that, while uncertain, maybe also holds a glimmer of hope. Unfortunately, none of the women of The Sandman get off particularly well in that department, and that is a common theme…

Disclaimer: I write this as a CIS bisexual woman in her 40s who has been in relationships with both women and men for 30+ years. Two of them led to marriage/civil partnership: One with a CIS woman, also bi (we were together for 10 years, 3 of them in a CP), one with my now husband (CIS straight man, married for 10 years, together longer, and we have a kid together). I don’t need to tell you this, but I am because I think it is important to disclose my own bias and experiences as a queer woman in the 90s, which include coming out, experiencing bi-erasure and misogyny from both inside and outside the LGBTQ+ community. As such, they will definitely colour the way I read and interpret A Game of You.

[that-one-p00k1e]

Familiarity

Pairing: fem!reader x Muichiro

TW: none, OOC overall, fluff^^

Note: reader is 5 days younger than Mui

“Tokito-Sama, please hold still.”

“Your eyes look familiar.” Muichiro tilted his head again as you let out a light sigh, continuing to gently dab disinfectant on his cheek.

Logically, when a person enrolls as a demon hunter, their title would be a demon hunter itself. The same goes for a kakushi. They both have their own different roles to play, as well as different duties to fulfill. You, on the other hand, decided to take both responsibilities of both titles upon yourself.

People would think of that as an absurd decision. A tiring one, too. But the agonizing boredom that engulfs when no mission was around, made the idea of being an occasional kakushi not seem to be a bad option. Which explains your current position right now; face to face with the Mist Pillar, tending to his wounds from his recent mission.

“Have we met before?” his deep yet soft voice spoke up with curiosity.

“No, we have not, Tokito-Sama.” Your tone was put up with formality; keeping composure despite the untruth that came with it. As a demon hunter, you've been acquainted with Muichiro more than once. Either by accidentally bumping into him, walking past him during his cloud gazing sessions, or doing a friendly gesture by sharing food with him once in a while.

Although he was in a way higher rank than you; in terms of age, you were only 5 days younger than him. Thus, you wanted to take the opportunity to befriend someone of your age, considering most demon hunters as of now were around 16 and older. Moreover, you were bewildered the moment you found out about a Pillar that was only 14 years of age.

Despite the interactions you've made with him as a demon slayer, you never dared to do the same when taking your secondary role as a kakushi.

“Were you the one who gave me furofuki daikon?” he questioned further as he looked at you tending to his arm.

“I'm afraid I could not recall doing such a deed. You must’ve mistaken me for another kakushi, Tokito-Sama,” you replied calmly as you kept focused on healing his arm.

“No, not a kakushi. You were a demon hunter.”

And with that, your heart skipped a beat.

A kakushi have always had to keep their identities undercover; wearing a beanie-like hat to cover their head and hair, and a mask covering the back of their heads and half of their faces. Of course, wearing those complete attributes already made you feel safe.

But never did you expect Muichiro– a young boy with short term memory loss –out of all people, could easily suspect your true identity despite it being hidden.

“I don't understand what you mean, Tokito-Sama. I am a kakushi, not a demon slayer,” you continued further as you tried to keep composed and unfazed; a contrast to the rapid increase of your heart beat you felt inside.

“Your wounds are fully taken care of. There’ll be tea brought here for you soon, I shall take my leave.” You stood up from your kneeling position and quickly bowed your head, turning away to head for the exit before a hand suddenly pulled you down; bringing your eyes to meet with a pair of mint green ones.

In a matter of seconds, another hand tugged at the hem of your mask; pulling down the whole thing along with the hat as it revealed your whole face.

“I was right,” was all the culprit could mutter as he stared blankly into your eyes; only a few centimeters of distance between your faces. Immediately, pink sprawled across your face as you pulled back and looked away in embarrassment.

“Tokito-Sama, please refrain from doing such actions. And h-how come you remember me? No offense, but usually you easily forget things.”

“You just seem… familiar.” His words piqued your curiosity as you took a glance at his stoic face.

“Familiar? What do you mean?”

The young Pillar then raised his hand, pointing a finger at you.

“You… You keep showing up in my head.”

“... What?” you questioned as your brows furrowed in deeper confusion.

“Your face. It shows up in my head… a lot.”

That face of yours that once had a pink-tinted surface, rose to a warmer shade of red.

“In a good way or a bad way?"

“Don't know… What was your name again?”

“It- It’s not important. You should inform that issue to Kocho-Sama, maybe she'll know what's wrong,” you quickly spoke due to being flustered, as you immediately left and brushed it all off; not wanting to get your hopes up further.

Muichiro was then left alone with his thoughts; considering to talk to the Insect Pillar.

Bonus:

“My, my. Stuck in your head, you say?” a soft and gentle voice spoke in amusement.

The youngster then replied with a nod, not seeming to be expressing anything apparent.

���Let's see. How does your stomach feel when you see her in your head?”

“It feels… weird.. Like I'm getting tickled on the inside,” he stated with a blank expression.

“Well would you look at that. I think we'd better talk this out with Kanroji-San,” the woman with a purple butterfly hairpin stated with the same remaining smile; leading the young boy to head to the Love Pillar's residence.

[locke-esque-monster]

Have we considered that Mystery Spot actually gives credence to Dean's lie in early Season 4 that he doesn't remember hell?

Because at this point, Sam doesn't know that the Trickster is an archangel, that he's already met an angel, or that angels can create pocket universes. And considering how everyone in that universe reacts (think the minimal concern by either the old man or anyone around by a hit-and-run) they're almost certainly creations of Gabriel. And with how Sam survives a whole 6 months without Dean - this is an angel pocket-verse, not Gabriel changing things. So we can assume Dean didn't actually go to Hell during those 6 months vs Dean going and having forgotten like he did all the Tuesdays/previous Wednesday. And so Dean didn't lie when he said he didn't recall much. He essentially was an actor exiting the stage of the play, in limbo until its time to return.

But Sam doesn't know that. He knows Dean is being made to forget things. He knows the Trickster can change reality (If he can throw someone in a wormhole, how hard is it to grab someone out of hell?). He knows the Trickster refers to Dean as doing the "hellfire rumba" right now. He knows if Dean dies early he should still go to hell.

But Dean doesn't know this. It's pretty clear that while Dean knows a little about the Mystery Spot incident, he doesn't have the full picture. So he probably doesn't know he died for 6 months in this pocket universe. (With how they struggle to express themselves normally and Dean's upcoming death being traumatic for them both, neither of them likely want to dig into this.) In Mystery Spot Dean has no visible tics he's lying (unlike later), this time he just looks confused.

So from Dean's perspective, when he lies about not remembering hell in 4x1, it isn't something he's trying to slide by Sam, say for continuity because he's told this lie before. Instead, this is a first-time reaction/lie you'd expect from Dean, whose trying to avoid talking about his feelings and trauma, and to hopefully to will the memories away.

Sam however is expecting Dean to say this. He thinks forgetting hell upon resurrection is normal, it happened to Dean before. Sure he wants to believe that Dean forgot, but having a precedent helps (he was pre-law after all). It's only when Uriel questions it does Sam start doubting the lie.

So it's crazy to me that Gabriel's experiment when he's trying to stop Sam letting Lucifer out, actually helped solidify Dean's lie to being even more effective, by drawing out the full reveal to Dean's hell experience until mid-season (for good or ill to how the season played out with Sam finding out later rather than sooner - and how that impacted Sam's actions in season 4 is a much more in-depth conversation).

[As an aside to a point above, Gabriel would be too much on the angels' radar to send Dean to hell early, and to get him back all by himself - unless saving him is far easier than the angels implied. Under his "witness protection" Gabriel probably had to do one a heck of basically an obfuscation spell to get off the angels radar during Mystery Spot, since it's likely they were keeping basic tabs on Dean this close to his trip to hell and this would have caused some attention he didn't want. Cas easily caught Gabriel was too powerful to be a trickster during Changing Channels, and he's doing a whole town as a set versus a building and (at least to Sam) goes on for about 9+ months (3+ of Tuesdays and 6 more afterwards - funnily enough that's also how long into Dean's deal we are at this point based on airdate) - which is hardly a subtle use of his powers.]

[psithurista]

approach shift pt. nine

pairing: Peter Parker x f!reader (TASM/Andrew Garfield version) length: 4.3k rating: explicit 18+ warnings: Mentions of death, fingering, a quick wristy (lol)

Peter Parker is a weirdo. A hot, distracting, irritating weirdo. And you can’t afford distractions right now. So there’s only one thing to do.

a/n: Last full chapter but there will be an epilogue in the not-too-distant; I'll probably have more notes then. Thank you x

series masterlist

The back of your head is torturously itchy. 

You try surreptitiously to press your knuckles to the spot, just to relieve the worst of it. The nurse sitting closest to you glances up at you from over the top of her monitor and guiltily, you clasp your hands back down into your lap. 

It smells sour in here, like soft plums left to rot. Whichever industrial cleaner it is this hospital uses, it’s definitely not one anybody’s trying to market for domestic use. It’s probably cheap as fuck, you contemplate, your hand drifting back up towards your head.

“You can go in now,” a new nurse says beside you. You jerk your hand away. “He’s awake. I let him know you’ve been waiting.”

“Oh, thank you,” you say, unpeeling yourself from the plastic waiting room chair. “I won’t be very long. I just wanted to say hi.”

She gives you a mild, distracted okay-that’s-nice-whatever smile and disappears. You push open the door to the room she’d just exited and duck inside. 

It smells far better in here. There’s a vase of opening lilies leaving red pollen-stains on the table in front of the window, and the lavender-powder smell of clean sheets. Doctor Brant is propped up in the bed, frowning hard at the tablet in his hands.

“I hope you aren’t working while you’re meant to be resting,” you say.

He tilts his head down to peer at you over his glasses. “Oh, no. It’s just sudoku. It’s good to see you.”

“You too, Doctor. How are you?”

He nods, and sets the tablet aside. “Well, they’ve finally taken me off the oxygen so I expect I’ll be allowed to leave soon. All things considered, a little smoke inhalation injury at my…advanced age could’ve been far worse.” His eyes glint a little bit. “Were you injured?”

You shake your head. “A concussion, but I’m fine. The. He. Um. You know. He got me out, before he went back for you.” 

“You shouldn’t have stayed to look for me.”

You sit gingerly on the very edge of the chair next to the bed. “I thought. I didn’t think he’d made it to you in time. I thought you were both.” Your voice starts to sound weird, so you stop talking.

He folds his hands together over his chest. “It’s strange. I remember the first time I saw him. I didn’t understand what was happening. I thought it must have been a stunt, or an advertisement for something. Silly, really. And yet he’s saved Oscorp from itself more times than it deserved. After Connors and Dillon and that whole terrible disaster with young Harry. It’s too much. There’s no reason for anybody to endanger themselves in that place ever again.” He takes his glasses off and sets them beside the bed. “Which is why I’ve resigned.”

You stare at him. “You. What?”

He smiles at you; the expression a little indulgent. “All those years of work, gone. And for nothing. I’m sure you’ve already heard what happened?”

You have. It’s been all over the news the entire week. First the speculation: was it an attack? Was it political? Was it another disgruntled ex-employee? A competitor? And then, later, the worse, more boring truth: regular old corporate negligence. An undertrained technician who’d tried to prematurely purge a vac test chamber with concentrated oxygen. An alarm system two years overdue for maintenance. And floor upon floor of laboratories filled with dangerous substances, improperly stored.



Nobody else in your department was seriously hurt. But others weren’t so lucky.

“When I started with Norm, it was all about changing the world for the better. And in the end, we’ve helped nobody.” He shakes his head. “If you’ll forgive my language…Fuck Oscorp. I’m ready to start over.”

You grin at him, even though it feels a little watery. “I’m…really happy for you.” And you are. In the brief time you’ve worked under him, his passion has been obvious, but he’s always seemed so bogged down by the minutiae of red tape; appeasing a board of investors with no interest in the importance of his life’s work beyond its potential profitability. 

But it also makes your already-uncertain future with the company even foggier. You’ll need to find someone else willing to offer you a similar graduate position, and you already know you won’t find anything else quite as specialised as the work he’s been doing. 

He takes a sip from the glass of water beside his bed, then sits back with a sigh. “Publicly-funded research is a far less glamorous world than that of private enterprise. We’ll be relying primarily on grant funding and academic support. There won’t be any glass fountains or vertical gardens, I’m afraid.”

You nod sympathetically. “I can imagine. It’ll be a big change.”    His eyebrows draw together at you. “I would understand if your answer is no.”

You blink. “My answer?” you say, like a genius. 

“If so, I would, of course, write you a glowing recommendation. And I have plenty of contacts I could put you in touch with, if you’d prefer that.”

Holy shit. Is he…? “Hold on. Are you offering me a position with you?”

“Well, yes.”

He grunts as you dart in and hug him. “Oh! Yes! I mean, of course! I would love to. Thank you so much. You won’t regret this.”

“Uh.”

You lean back as he smooths his blankets down. “Sorry,” you say, a little sheepish. “That was unprofessional.”

He tries to look stern, but it’s unconvincing. “Well, yes,” he says again. “But I’ll choose to ignore it just this once.”

You stop by to see Bear on your way home. The roller doors in the alley beside the grimy little theatre are propped open so you can see all the half-painted set pieces inside, and there’s a bunch of people dressed all in black gathered around smoking. 

“Are you gonna be home tonight?” you ask, watching her inhale the deli sandwich you’d brought after correctly guessing she hadn’t stopped rehearsing long enough for lunch.

“I can be if you want,” she says, her mouth full of half-chewed food. “But I was kind of planning on staying at a friend’s.”

You press your knuckles absently against the back of your head and leer at her. “Would this friend happen to be the same person who wanted you to move in after one salad date?”

“If you don’t stop scratching your stitches I’m calling the hospital and narcing to your doctor. And yes.”

You make a face. “I’m not even touching them!”

She stuffs the rest of the sandwich in her mouth and wipes her hands on her jeans. “I’m seriously cool not to go, though. It’s totally fine.”

She’s barely left you alone since you got back from the emergency room, even setting alarms and checking up on you throughout the first couple of nights. You know for a fact she’s had to cancel other plans for you—again. You shake your head. “No, go. I kind of want some alone time anyway.” 

It’s another cold, bright afternoon. You walk into the feet of your shadow and spread your fingers beside your body as your arms move, watching them elongating out on the pavement in front of you, lost in thought. You’ve been lost in thought a lot, lately.

You’re just past the end of your block when you catch sight of the figure sitting on the stairs outside your building. Long legs in faded jeans are stretched out and crossed over at the ankles, and there’s duct tape around the toe of one sneaker. You slow to a halt on the sidewalk. A woman behind you huffs with irritation, veering around you, a giant paper grocery bag clutched in her arms.

He looks up from his cracked phone screen as you draw level with your door. His hair is as chaotic as ever, stuck up in every direction, except for at the nape of his neck, where it curls gently around in little flicks. He looks tired. He’s always looked tired, the whole time you’ve known him, but you notice it differently now. Like the holes in his jeans, and the bruise on his jaw, and the angry-sore-looking blisters on his knuckles. 

He smiles a little, jerking you out of your silent staring. “Hi. Sorry. I didn’t wanna just show up unannounced. I’ve been trying to call, but,” he holds his phone up, and you shake your head.

“My phone was—”

“Yeah, I figured.”

The wind lifts the edge of your scarf and shivers under the neck of your coat. There’s something sweet in the air; like cinnamon sugar, maybe someone baking from one of the open windows overhead. “Do you want to come inside?”

His expression is soft as he considers you, looking up through his lashes. “Okay.”

Neither of you speak on the trip upstairs. Your hand accidentally brushes his as you reach out for the elevator buttons, and you both pull away, as awkward and over-polite as strangers. 

He stands a respectful distance back as you open your door, and you lead him inside, waving your hand vaguely toward the sofa. “Do you want a drink?”

He folds himself into the seat nearest the window, hunching over and shoving his hands between his knees. A cold drift of sun touches his jaw. “Um, no thanks, it’s cool.”

You sit down beside him, folding your hands across your lap like you’re about to get a class picture taken. 

He chews his lip, runs his thumbs over his burned hands. Outside, a car horn beeps. “It’s not because I didn’t trust you,” he starts. “If you’re wondering. I don’t want you thinking that’s the reason.”

“It’s okay,” you say. “You don’t need to explain.”

“I just want you to know—”

“I know.” You try to smile at him, and it feels a little watery. “I get it. I know why you couldn’t tell me.”

His brows bend together just enough to mark out a pained line. “I’m sorry.”

You shake your head. “Really. Don’t be.”

It falls silent in your living room. The little clay pinch pot in the centre of the coffee table Bear had brought home from the artists’ market watches you both watching one another; soft-skinned and tender as nervous newborn things.

“You might die doing this,” you finally point out. “One day. All those times you’ve been hurt. You might…not come home.”

He nods at the floor. “Which is why I couldn’t really ask you to, you know. Waste your time with—” he waves his hands vaguely back and forth between your bodies. “It’s not worth it. And, like, trust me, I would never, ever want to drag you into any of the shit I’m involved with. I didn’t mean to fuck you around so long, knowing you wouldn’t...” He looks back at you, his dark eyes soft. “It was just. The happiest I’ve been in a really long time. I couldn’t stop myself. I’m sorry. It was shitty of me. Selfish.”

You stare at him for a few seconds in stunned disbelief. Then you laugh. You don’t mean to, and his head jerks back, startled. “Are you serious?” you manage.

His eyes are huge. “Uh. Yeah?”

You laugh again. It sounds a little manic. “You’re unbelievable.”

He flushes. “Could you maybe quit laughing at me when I’m trying to—”

“Peter. You saved my fucking life. Twice. Even after I was a total asshole to you. You saved me.”

He shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “Yeah, look, I don’t want you to feel weird about that. Like, it’s totally, one-hundred-percent not a big deal and I never want anybody to feel like—”

“You help people. Strangers. Every day. For nothing. And they aren’t even grateful. The things people write about you.” He hasn’t moved, and you realise you’re talking louder than you need to, considering he’s right in front of you. “You’re the least selfish person I’ve ever met,” you tell him, emphatic, needing him to get it. “You’re a good person, Peter. I’m so sorry I didn’t see that before.” Your voice breaks a little and it’s embarrassing, but not as embarrassing as the fact that your vision has gone blurry and your cheeks feel suddenly too hot.

You stop and breathe for a few moments, willing yourself not to cry. He doesn’t say anything, just studies the edge of the rug as though he’s pretending not to notice, and you’re grateful. 

Then, quietly, he takes a breath. “I was going to tell you. Before the fire. I saw May, and she told me she saw you, and that you’d talked, and. I wanted to explain everything.”

You remember the way May had looked that day in the park; her small, sad mouth, and the way she’d spoken slowly like she was choosing each word carefully. “Does she know?”

Peter half-shrugs. “We’ve never talked about it. But, like, I know she knows. And she knows I know she does.” He gives you a little smile. “It’s easier if we both keep pretending we don’t, though.”

“Does anyone else?”

His smile turns tight. “I guess not. Not really.”

“So you’ve been doing this all on your own? The whole time? How?”

He runs his hand back through his hair. “Yeah. Well, I guess I’m pretty good with DIY now, you know? I wasn’t always. I had to learn. Shit went wrong a lot in the beginning. Shit still goes wrong a lot.”

You lean in a little, curling into the cushions. “What’s the hardest part?”

You’re expecting him to say the fear of discovery, or the isolation, or the sheer physical exhaustion. But he wrinkles his nose. “God. The sewing. It’s so hard. And it’s constant. I swear I pop a different seam every day.” His face goes blank for a moment and he looks at you as though a brand new thought has just occurred to him for the first time. “It’s actually really nice. Getting to talk about this.”

“Am I allowed to ask about the outfit?”

He slaps his hands over his face. “You are absolutely fucking not allowed to ask about the outfit.”

Your mouth drops open in outrage. “I wasn’t gonna laugh! I just want to know why—”

“Look, I was going for, like, a velodrome thing. Like for speed and better flexibility and less wind-resistance and then like, anonymity as well, obviously, and originally—”

“What about the, uh, pattern?”

“Yeah, okay, okay, it seemed cool at the time! I was fifteen!”

The thought of Peter as a child, alone, in danger, no doubt even ganglier and nerdier than he is now, sends a fresh pang of sadness through you. You try not to let it show. “Do you eat the webs?”

He stares like you’ve just asked if he’d like to swap heads with you. “What?”

“Certain types of spiders go back and eat their webs after they’re done with them. Like, to replenish the protein they expended making them. Do you ever eat yours?”

The expression on his face is the funniest thing you’ve ever seen. “Uh, no. It’s inorganic. Like, it’s a, like essentially a nylon polymer composite. It’s not edible. I mean, I’ve never tried, but it’s designed to dissolve after a few hours, so I guess if you did really want to eat it, it wouldn’t hurt you…” He trails off, sheepish, looking at you sideways. “You’re fucking with me.”

“Yeah,” you say, unable to stifle your smile any longer. 

He grins and ducks his head. He hasn’t shaved today, you note; there’s a little bit of stubble along his jawline. 

Your chest hurts. Seeing him, being close to him, just like before. It pulls open the ache of missing him, turning it from a bruise into a wound. You know you shouldn’t. You tell yourself not to. But you do it anyway.

“I miss you.” Your voice is barely louder than a whisper. 

He looks so fucking sad. His eyes are huge and pained and so close, and then they dart down to your lips, and you see it; the precise split-second the urge hits him, then the one after as he fights it, and your heart sinks and you’re about to lean back but then his mouth is on yours and it’s soft and it’s warm and unbearably gentle as his hands sweep up to the base of your neck.

It’s not the best kiss you’ve ever had. 

You’re twisted uncomfortably to face him. Your hands lay shocked in your lap, and you’re pretty sure he can hear you attempting not to sniffle too much with your breathing, and you’re so busy worrying about it that you forget to open up to him; his tongue touching the edge of your lips. His fingertips brush the stitches at the back of your head and you flinch, pulling away.

“Oh, shit, sorry, I’m sorry,” he says, visibly mortified. 

“It’s okay,” you say. “Didn’t hurt. It’s just sensitive.”

“For kissing you,” he clarifies. “I know we’re not, like…you know. Anymore.”

That hurts. You shake your head. “We could be. We could try.”

“I can’t ask you—"

“No. Don’t do that. What do you want?”

He exhales through his nose and a tiny, pained sound escapes with it. “It’s not that easy—“

“It is. It is that easy. What do you want?”

“You have no idea,” he says, suddenly. “God. You have no fucking idea how bad I want you. I want this. You’re the only thing I. Fuck.” He knuckles at his eyes, frustrated. “You just have no idea how bad this could go.”

“I do,” you tell him, gently. “I know exactly how bad it could go. And I’m sorry, Peter. I’m so sorry that happened. It’s so, so fucked up that that happened and I’m so sorry, and I know nothing I can say will ever make any of it any less fucked up, but fucked up things happen. They happen all the time for normal people, too. And fucked up things are going to keep happening and it’s inevitable and it’s part of being alive and that’s why we just need to take that risk every day, and choose to—to try to just be happy in as many stupid fucking hopeless ways as we can anyway, because we deserve to be happy. You deserve to be happy.”

He’s staring at you like he wants to believe you. Like he wants to cry. “You need to know,” he says, reaching his hand out, pulling it back. “I can’t promise you this’ll be okay. If you still wanted…I would try. I would try so, so hard for you. Harder than I’ve ever tried at anything. But I—I still just have no way of knowing that it’ll be okay.“

You smile at him, shaky and sure. “That’s any relationship, Parker.”

This time when he kisses you, you’re ready. Your mouth opens eagerly under his, catching the faint metal-salt of his skin, the dryness where his lips are ever-so-slightly windburnt. 

All the breath leaves your body in a rush. You shove your hands up through his hair, lifting up onto your knees and sliding across his lap until you’re straddling him on the couch. 

He tilts his head back to work his tongue into your mouth, one of his hands sliding up underneath your shirt to find the edges of your bra, and it’s awkward and clumsy and you’re both breathing hard by the time he manages to get your jeans unzipped and his hand cramped into your underwear. 

“Holy shit,” you gasp, half-dizzy from kissing without pause. You almost bite him when his fingers find your clit. “Can you—yeah, like that, oh, my God—"

“Hold on, it’d be better if, let me…” he murmurs, frustrated, and you let out what could only be described as a yelp as he lifts your entire weight up to easily shove your jeans and underwear the rest of the way off your legs before settling you back down over his lap. 

You’re stuck between trying to grind down against the front of his jeans and trying to give him enough space to work his hand back between your legs, ultimately deciding on the latter as he finds your clit again, this time his attentions unhampered by clothing. 

His body hasn’t forgotten yours. It only takes a few moments of searching before he has you melting into the palm of his hand; your bones soft and hot inside you as you roll your eyes closed. It’s easy with him, just like before, but better.

You’re almost close when he eases two fingers inside you, and that’s easy too, so easy, the way you give for him. Your forehead rests against his as your lips come apart; too focused for kissing anymore.

“I missed you,” he breathes, working his wrist. “God, I missed you. I missed you so much.”

You flex your thighs as you rock with the movement of his hand, and that’s when you need to touch him, urgently. It takes a little repositioning before you manage to open his jeans and ease his cock out, wrapping your fingers loosely around him. 

You feel him tense and shudder as you stroke him, too slow to really get him anywhere, too lost in the way his long, firm fingers curl inside you. 

He noses along your jaw, mouthing lazily at your damp skin, his eyes closed, and then he’s there, right where you need him, and you’re clenching and biting down on the sounds trying to escape as you come apart sudden and hard around him.

You’re still loose-limbed and shaky when he pulls his slick fingers free, gently moving your hand out of the way to grasp himself instead. You feel a little guilty; you’d almost forgotten about him straining in front of you, but he doesn’t seem to care as he jerks himself quick and short in his fist. His other hand cups the swell of your ass as he huffs hot breath into your hair, your neck, coming sudden across the inside of your thigh.

You slump your weight against him. 

Neither of you speak for a while. Your hand is curled between your bodies, trapped where it’s warm and you can feel his heart slowing in his chest. He runs his hand absently from your hip to your thigh, then back again.

“Peter,” you murmur.

“Mmm.”

“You do need to promise me one thing, though.”

He moves, just enough that he can look up at you. His cheeks are flushed. “What?”

“We can never. And I mean never. Tell Bear we fucked on her couch.”

His eyes widen in horror. “Oh, my God. She already hates me.”

“I know. But it’s okay, because we’re not gonna tell her.”

“I just don’t know if I can keep that secret; I’m not good at subterfuge, y’know, I’m just not that kinda guy—"

“Yeah, yeah, okay—"

“—and you should see me under pressure; I fold like origami—"

You kiss him again, just to shut him up, and feel his lips curling up against yours. 

Your thighs feel sticky and gross, and you’re starting to get cold, and when you get up you nearly fall over from the cramp in your leg from sitting so awkwardly, but you’re too happy to care in the slightest. 

You stand together in the bathroom, cleaning each other up. Every time his eyes meet yours in the mirror you both smile again, giggling and getting in each other’s way, like idiots.

It takes twice as long as it should to get back out to the couch, and you’re hoping he’ll curl up with you again but then you catch him glancing toward the window. “You need to go,” you say. It’s not really a question.

He hedges. “I kind of do, but…”

You offer him a little smile. “It’s okay. Go.”

He nods. You walk him to the door, where he pauses. He chews at his thumbnail, looking at you sideways again from under his eyelashes.

You watch him for a few seconds, waiting. “What?” you finally say.

He presses his lips together, runs his hand through his hair. “So. It’s probably, like, kind of weird. To ask. At this…uh, juncture.”

He’s nervous, you realise. It’s excruciatingly endearing. You nudge him. “I feel like weird’s kind of our thing.”

He grins. “Yeah. I guess. So. I was gonna ask if you’d like to go out. For dinner. Friday night.”

There’s absolutely no way to prevent the smile slowly pulling at your mouth. “Peter. Are you asking me on a date?”

He laughs, a little self-conscious huff. “Uh, yeah. Like. I mean, I wanted to way sooner. But. I guess I wanna try doing things properly this time. If you want.”

You can think of a thousand different things to say, but most of them are embarrassing, so you settle for keeping it simple. “Yes. Fuck yes. Obviously.”

He blinks. “Oh, okay, awesome, holy shit. Okay. Should we…? I don’t have your new number.”

“Oh, yeah, I need to get yours again too.” You pull your phone out and make a new contact before handing it to him.

He stares at your screen for a second, then he snorts. “You have me in your phone as ‘p.p.’?”

You wrinkle your nose at him. “Why? What do you have me as?”

He laughs again, quiet, shaking his head. “Doesn’t matter.” He hands your phone back. He takes a few steps out the door, then he sticks his hands in his pockets. “So. I’ll see you?”

“You will,” you tell him, watching the way his jaw juts crookedly when he smiles. 

He’s halfway to the elevator, walking backwards, his hands still in his pockets when he calls back to you. “Friday, Miss Jersey.”

You laugh. “Quit disturbing my neighbours.”

You stay there long after he’s gone, leaning against your doorframe, smiling to yourself, aching with stupid, giddy affection.

[silli---lilli]

Part 3 - Blind Soap and Wounded Ghost/Soulmates

I'm making twitter vote in a 'Choose Your Own Adventure' style thread :) This was part two, part three will be up soon based on their choices.

Part 1 is here: https://www.tumblr.com/silli---lilli/727957218306162688/part-1-blind-soap-and-wounded-ghostsoulmates?source=share

Part 2 is here: https://www.tumblr.com/silli---lilli/728120391412957184/part-2-blind-soap-and-wounded-ghostsoulmates?source=share

AO3 whole fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50092006

Johnny has been temporarily blinded, Ghost had a private room to deal with his wounds until Soap gets moved in. Ghost has the mark of a soulmate appear.

TW: Injury

Simon did get in the shower after turning it on, realizing he couldn’t reenter the room yet, he couldn’t even look at his own face to see if it was passable. So, then, he had to wait until the nurse left. Johnny would never know what his face looked like. Not while they were boarded together, anyway.

Johnny wouldn’t know. His first thought upon finally calming down enough to fit one in was that he should make his exit as quickly as possible. But Johnny wouldn’t know. He would never know the scar matched, he wouldn’t see Simon’s body, and more importantly, he wouldn’t see his own where he must be wearing Simon’s pain. That nearly made him sick again.

And by the time he had cleaned himself off and exited, he was having…other thoughts. Like how he could stay, he could get some real taste of what it was like to not be chased off, to not be feared, to not be pitied. He’d noticed the scar and convinced himself that whoever wore the matching one deserved to never be aware of him, to never carry his weight, and he realized he could still have that but in the presence of something that had become a comfort to him.

He wondered if Johnny even noticed his new scars, or if he cared. Simon Riley was no talker, he had never learned to truly connect with another human being, but he suddenly wished he could. A small voice, one he smothered as quickly as he could, spoke of the hope that maybe Johnny would get to know him this way and learn to accept him before he ever felt it was forced upon him.

A strange thing to ask of the universe, considering it had made him this monster in the first place. Price had worked so hard in the beginning to teach him that all the loss and all the torture wasn’t something he deserved. That Simon Riley put himself in harm’s way for the good of others, that didn’t mean he deserved punishment. And Simon had accepted that, he had accepted himself, at least the man in the mask, and that was enough. He’d known it was a possibility, but he hadn’t expected this. He hadn’t expected the same universe that had ripped him apart time and time again to then make him whole at the end of the hall in a hospital with a man he knew would rather be anywhere else.

He exited the bathroom and went back to his bed, quite sure the heightened sense in the sightless man would make his racing heart audible. But Johnny said nothing to him, and he lay on his back, his face turned away, unable to look at him. His hope was quickly crushed by how unfair it was. It was so obvious to him, from the first moment he entered the room, what a light John Mactavish was. He was always hopeful, kind, respectful, Simon never heard hate in his voice, not even in speaking about his injuries.

John was young and fit and handsome, he would go on about his life and never be lonely and never wonder if anything would fix him. And Simon would always know what he’d missed out on. So he decided to stay. He decided to drink every minute more that they were safe there together like the antidote to his poisonous soul and they would heal and move on and he would always remember that the universe matched him to something so beautiful, in spite of his ugliness. It pulled at the muscles in his chest and made his throat tight. He was never given anything unless it was to be lost, and already he dreaded it.

He wondered if the nurse had given Johnny bad news when she was there, because he was so quiet. He didn’t speak to Simon at all, and he didn’t sleep either. He reclined, his eyes closed, but Simon could tell he was awake. Tense. He stared at him even though he knew Johnny knew. He wondered if he might be able to somehow convey that he wasn’t alone.

“You think you’ll go back to the field soon?”

Johnny heard Ghost’s voice from across the room and it startled him but not enough for him to jump. Still, he let his eyes open, feeling the cool air touch them even though he couldn’t see. He had told the other man that he knew when he was being watched, and it was no different then. It wasn’t beyond him to realize that the question was meant to make him think about something else, to be positive, it wasn’t purely out of curiosity. It was the second act of kindness out of the man that couldn’t speak his own name.

“I hope so.” Johnny answered him, though his voice sounded as dark and empty as the soul he spoke from.

He knew only a few things for sure, that his blindness wasn’t leaving any time soon, maybe ever, that he was in no shape to be back in the field otherwise, mentally or physically, and that the pain in his leg wasn’t his. Not really. He’d asked the nurse to tell him of his other injuries again and a few of the aches he felt weren’t from his own mishap.

She’d looked at them. Described them. Unless he’d forgotten his own body, he knew they were someone else’s and his heart sank slowly. He couldn’t be someone’s soulmate, because his life would always be this. Fighting, fighting enemies, fighting inadequacies, fighting life-altering injuries. Who could understand that? Who could be bettered by it? He was lost in his own mind, he didn’t want a focus other than work, and he’d lost that by getting hurt. Now he’d lost it permanently.

He didn’t have any desire to say any of it to Ghost. He didn’t think Ghost would have a lot of sympathy for him, he already looked weak in front of the Lieutenant, all he wanted was to get through the next little bit until they were separated, either by positive prognosis or by growing too tired of each other. The thought was cold to him. Ghost wasn’t a warm person, but not being alone in the room at all was a warmth he needed.

“It’s time to sleep, Johnny, you ought to try.” Ghost’s voice sounded…different. More human somehow. It intrigued Johnny enough to make him sit up, lean to hear it better.

“I figured, based on how quiet you are.” Johnny shifted. “But you’re not sleepin’ either.”

Simon waited a moment before answering. He wasn’t sure what he should say, that he didn’t want to see his nightmares yet, that the bed was uncomfortable, that his instinct was keeping watch.

“Yeah, I know.”

“Well, what’s on your mind, then, Ghost? Tell me something.”

“Mm.” Simon hesitated. He couldn’t tell him the truth. “My team rolls out tomorrow. I was supposed to be leading them.”

Johnny laid his head back again. He’d been curious before but it wasn’t until that moment that he wanted to see his companion so badly it brought tears to his ruined eyes.

“You miss it.”

It wasn’t exactly the quiet statement Simon had expected. He swallowed. “Suppose I do. It’s all I know.”

Johnny suspected that wasn’t true. He had a feeling, a suspicion that it was all Ghost knew then, that it was what held him together. He guessed he knew plenty of other things he wished he didn’t.

“I miss it, too.” Johnny sighed. Simon was unsure if he should continue. He was unsure if he knew what to say at all.

“Guess that makes two of us.”

--

Johnny woke again, not realizing he had fallen asleep.  A presence was closer to him, but it wasn’t a nurse or a doctor. And the noises around him were still small and quiet, if it was morning it was early yet.

“Ghost.” He stated.

It seemed too forward to acknowledge his presence, but he knew it was his. He felt a little different. Large, rough, but not threatening. Not dangerous, not to Johnny. He heard the other man turn toward him instead of away and it gave him a rush.

“Didn’t mean to wake you.”

He was at the window looking out again, only this time wishing for the open sky and dirt under his feet. His nightmares were bad again, though no different, really. The power that had kept him alive, his physical and mental strength, failed him. In waking life and in sleep. He hadn’t meant to wake Johnny. He had meant to stand closer to him.

“What’s wrong?”

Johnny ignored the apology, unsure whether Ghost had woken him or not. He doubted it. He was more at ease with him there, at the foot of his bed.

Simon couldn’t tell his soulmate what was wrong, not then, so he went with a different, equally damning truth. “My name is Simon.”

Johnny could hear that he had turned back to the window to say it. Like he was ashamed.

“Hmm.” Johnny hummed. “Simon. It’s a nice name. Biblical.”

Simon huffed a laugh. It covered the emotion brought up by hearing Johnny say his name for real. By choice. “I suppose so.”

He could tell Johnny was still…down. That he was somewhere else, and not just because he was tired, or because he hadn’t healed yet. Maybe he had nightmares, too. Maybe he was as lonely as Simon.

“It’s a long way down from up here.” Simon mumbled, breaking the silence again.

“You could have said we were in hell and I’d believe you.” Johnny mumbled in response.

It was him. It was Simon. Maybe Johnny didn’t know they were bound but already the little bit of Simon that he couldn’t hold behind his walls was weighing the man down. Staying was a mistake. He was going to do this forever if he wasn’t careful. He would always make Johnny believe he was in hell. He was shocked it was already beginning—

“Do you believe in soulmates, Simon?”

Simon startled out of his spiraling thoughts and took a step closer to Johnny’s bed. Of course he believed in them. It wasn’t something you could dismiss, it was scientifically proven and fairly common.

“What do you mean, do I believe in them?” He cleared his throat. “I’ve seen a few.”

Johnny felt him shift uncomfortably, but he didn’t move away. “I just mean,” he spoke with his hands again, “do you think the bond is what everyone believes it to be?”

Simon shifted, thinking. A fair question. The connection was romanticized to no end though it was possible to be matched to someone who would only abuse it. But it was believed to be beautiful in more realistic ways, that it strengthened both, that a bonded soul would live longer, be happier, lose it’s awful, painful longing and settle into a true happiness.

“It can be, sure.”

Simon was unashamed as he turned to watch Johnny. The younger man clenched his light blue eyes. “I don’t think I’m meant for it.”

That, he could agree with though it didn’t negate the truth. “I feel the same.”

“I feel so trapped. Even opening my eyes doesn’t make the nightmares stop.”

The change in subject, the harsh admission caught Simon off guard. He unfolded his arms and turned toward Johnny again. Maybe it wasn’t him, then, unless the darkness Johnny saw was somehow attributed to his own darkness. It was the middle of the night, they were alone, they both ached, and only one of them knew they were connected in a supernatural, irreversible, incredibly beautiful way. Going to him wouldn’t change that.

Johnny felt Simon lay his hand at the edge of the bed, far enough that they didn’t touch. “You’re here, John, with me. The nightmares aren’t real even if they don’t stop.”

“What color are the walls?” Johnny’s voice was almost a whisper. He was embarrassed by the display, but Simon made no move to leave.

“They’re white.” Simon said, his voice steady, calming. “The cabinets are gray. It’s boring, except for the window. I can see most of the city from up here.” His hand got closer, still not touching. “We’re on the tenth floor, Johnny, not in hell.”

Johnny nodded. “No one came for me out there. I wasn’t found until the next day, they were surprised I was alive, but I hadn’t gotten far because I couldn’t see, I had no comms. And no one is coming for me now.”

Simon did, though, didn’t he? However the universe had decided to spell it out, Simon had come for him. And maybe it wasn’t a comfort, having him there, but it was better than being alone. His hand finally connected with Johnny’s sprained wrist and he gripped his arm just above it.

“I’m here.”

He was unsure what else to say, he had no other comfort to offer though it seemed an incredible injustice that people in Johnny’s life seemed unwilling to care for him in what was an obvious time of need. It broke him in a way. He had no family, he would always be alone but somehow having one that didn’t seem to care felt worse.

Just as quickly, he walked away. Johnny hated that he found some comfort in the interaction, even though he was sure it should have felt strange. Knowing the man’s name made him seem familiar.

A few days later, after having soft, meaningless conversation, often late, when they couldn’t sleep, Simon watched as two nurses helped Johnny stand, walk from one end of the room to the other. The rest of his body was healing well, he needed to be moving around a bit, and he could get familiar with the room. It would help when he transitioned home, he would know how to learn his space.

Simon was in a horrible, gut-wrenching, ill, painful amount of trouble. Because he didn’t want him to go. He wasn’t quite done yet, he was getting attached. He had always known that was the danger of having a soul at all but try as he might, he’d never been able to get rid of it. He didn’t say much to Johnny that evening, beginning to prepare for the feeling of losing him, like he’d expected.

But later that night, he woke to the sound of movement and cracked his eyes to see Johnny standing, both hands pressed to the glass of the window. He heard Simon sit up and turned his head, lowering his hands, waiting to see if he was truly awake or just moving.

He heard him sit up, put his feet on the cold floor. He heard Simon stand, and walk toward him. He waited until he stood beside him to speak.

“Describe it to me.”

It was gray and cold and drizzly outside, so Simon lied. “It’s completely dark. I can see the stars tonight, though, in spite of the city lights. Not many drivers at this hour, but I can see the buses running.”

“This hour.” Johnny muttered.

“Around 3.”

Johnny just nodded, his hands gripping the sill. “You’ll leave soon, yeah?”

Simon knew what he meant but he couldn’t stop the response that fell out of his mouth. “If you’d like me to.”

“No.” Johnny’s unseeing eyes were wide at the night out the window. “I don’t want you to.” He turned his head slightly, speaking again in Simon’s direction. “I wish I knew what you looked like.”

This time Simon turned away, back to the glass. “No, you don’t.”

“Yes I do. No one else wanted to be here with me, Simon, except for you. I know you could have asked to be moved to an available room if you wanted.”

“Putting you in here means there weren’t any available rooms, Johnny.”

Johnny just nodded, a slight smile breaking his cold façade. “Surely someone has died since then.”

“I’m used to working alone.” Simon attempted to justify a want he didn’t even have.

“This isn’t work.”

Simon shook his head. Johnny marveled at the fact that he could hear it, he could nearly feel the energy of every movement the taller man made.

“You’re right, Johnny, it’s not.”

“Come on, Simon, let me see you.” Johnny turned, backing away from the wall, the only thing steadying him.

Simon knew what he meant, and it horrified him. He hated that anyone could see his face, and his scars, he swore he’d be dead before he let anyone touch them. Most of the scars on his neck and face were old enough that they wouldn’t appear on Johnny’s. For that he was thankful. Johnny never even knew he wore a mask. He had no idea that Simon’s face was the greatest source of his shame. In that naivete was some freedom.

So he nodded, unsure what his voice might sound like if he spoke and Johnny’s hand was already raised. He stopped it, just in front of Simon’s chest, waiting to be guided. And in an act he might always question where he found the strength for, Simon gripped Johnny’s wrist and pulled his hand to his face.

Simon closed his eyes, unsure what it might even feel like, knowing the demolitions expert’s hands would be rough and callused, like his. It still caught him off guard, though, how gentle he was.

Johnny ran his fingers over Simon’s cheek once, learning that he had shaved fairly recently but not recently enough to be without short stubble, well grown in. He carefully glided them over long eyelashes before raising his other and feeling his face with both hands. Simon was perfectly still, even as Johnny touched his hairline, badly in need of a trim, and ran his hands over his ears and down to his neck.

Johnny noted every smooth scar, including a large one across his nose, another deep one from his left ear to the corner of his mouth and several smaller, rougher ones likely from shrapnel or broken glass. It satisfied his need so little, it made him even more desperate, but pulling his hands away he realized how intimate the moment had been and he felt guilty.

He didn’t know that once Simon felt Johnny’s hands reach his neck, he opened his eyes to watch him. His brow was furrowed, his facial hair grown out long, long enough to be soft and he very suddenly lamented that he had no excuse to touch his face in return.

When Johnny was done, he stepped backward, like he might turn and get into bed, but the floor was slick and unfamiliar and he stumbled. As Simon reached for his shoulder to steady him, he reached for Simon’s arm. His right arm. His right bicep. And his hand connected, gripping Simon by the part of his body that belonged to him anyway.

Simon froze and as soon as Johnny’s hand connected with his scar on the back of Simon’s arm, still fresh and raised and tender, his eyes widened and he let go, catching his hand with the other, like it stung.

Simon backed away then, unspeaking, somehow hoping he hadn’t given himself away so quickly and so easily.

“No.” Johnny shook his head. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

“You’re wrong. It’s nothing.”

Johnny shook his head again, harder, laughing coldly. “I’ve never heard a more obvious lie in my life.”

“Sorry, Johnny, I didn’t mean to…” He trailed off. He wasn’t sure which part he meant to downplay.

“To what? To tell me? To get close? To let me touch you?”

Simon backed away again, his voice still quiet. He didn’t want to cause a scene or upset Johnny further, not while he was standing in the middle of the room with no support.

“Yes. All of it.”

Johnny ran a hand over his mouth, carefully stepping backward until his legs met his bed and he could sit down. “This makes more sense than it should.”

“You knew.”

“I knew something was up. I could feel it.”

“Fuckin hell.” Simon felt sick again, and he felt like roaming the halls to see if anyone had died so he could take their empty room. Get out from under this mountain of horror and emotion. He turned, he walked toward the door, getting more and more sure he was going to do one of the two.

“Don’t leave, Simon, please.” Johnny said, not turning toward him. Not sure if the words mattered. But he’d stayed, even though he didn’t seem surprised by the revelation.

Simon stopped, his back toward his soulmate.

“You knew too, yeah?”

“I saw your arm. Maybe a week ago.”

“And you didn’t leave then.”

“Didn’t think I was in danger of being found out.”

Johnny shook his head again, hanging it. “But you didn’t leave.”

“I thought about it.” An easy truth.

“Why didn’t you tell me, then?”

Simon couldn’t find an answer, Johnny could hear him open and close his mouth more than once, trying to come up with an explanation.

“Because you thought I would tell you to leave.” Johnny finally answered for him.

“Maybe. Or because I didn’t want to inflict this on you.” Simon shook his head. “Except I had no choice.”

“Come back, please.” Johnny sounded nearly afraid. “I can’t follow you. I can’t find you if you leave.”

Simon stopped hesitating, knowing it was out of his hands. He went back to Johnny and stood in front of him.

“Your leg.”

Simon clenched his jaw so tightly that Johnny heard his teeth grind together. “I know. I’m so sorry.”

“I’m sorry someone hurt you.” Johnny’s voice was tentative but his hand was sure as he reached for Simon’s thigh, touching where he knew the deep, fresh scar to be, the one mirrored on him. He shook his head quickly. “I wish I could see it. I wish I could talk to you face to face.”

Simon knelt, pulling himself out of Johnny’s rasp, knowing he was powerless to escape the presence of him, and put himself below him, looking up into his handsome face.

“My eyes work perfectly, the injury to your eyes can’t be permanent.”

Johnny’s perfect blue eyes widened with the realization and he swallowed. “Promise to stay until I can look into your eyes to have this conversation, Simon. Please.”

Simon knew in that moment that the only eyes he had ever wanted on his face, the only ones he ever would, were Johnny’s. “Fine. But I can’t promise anything else.”

Johnny’s fingers brushed his cheek. “Fine.” Simon stood, backing away. “You came for me.”

Simon let his own fingers brush Johnny’s cheek, more intimacy than he had known in as long as he could remember. “I was here first, Johnny. Waiting. You came for me.”

[gogobluedynamite]

Ya know...I didn't believe that Baron Mildenhall's story for his route was in any way connected to Kinger...that is until I came up with the Original Party and what may have transpired in those first few years in the Circus.

I now believe that the Baron's story is inspired by what happened to Kinger and the Original Party.

So, with my headcanon of the Original Party in mind, let's have a look at Baron Mildenhall's recordings up until his twist reveal as the true villain of the Super Scary Route.

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

My name is Baron Theodore Mildenhall. Hunting has been a hobby of mine for as long as I can remember, although one could say it eventually became more of an obsession. The creature you see before you is one I've been pursuing for years. Not quite a man… but not quite an animal. Something... unholy. Something evil. I took it upon myself to spend every waking moment doing all I could to protect my family from the creature, hoping that when I'd eventually killed it, I would be freed from this awful feeling. This inescapable dread. I was wrong.

Considering that Kinger does have firearm experience, Baron being a hunter could be a reference to that. It could also be that Kinger was a 'hunter' of sorts and the 'creature' he was hunting was the exit out of the Circus by way of his computer science knowledge. The 'family' in this case would be the Original Party, whom Kinger probably did see as family (other than his wife for obvious reasons). His hunt for the exit does become an obsession.

Tuesday, December 4th. Although I had shot the creature multiple times in its vitals and severed its head to keep as a prize on my wall... my troubles were just beginning. I took my eyes off the body for what felt like only a minute, and when I looked back, the body was gone. The creature was not dead, and it would be back to reclaim what I'd taken from it. If anyone is listening to this, all I ask of you is one thing: Do not let the head out of your sight. You have been warned.

This one was tricky to pin point for the headcanons, but I think I might of come up with something.

The first of the Original Party to Abstract has already happened and while Kinger feels more pressure to finding the exit, he also does everything in his power to keep an on the others, feeling paranoid that if he no longer has them in his sight, then something bad would happen.

This might have been a stretch, but it was the best I could come up with.

Things have gotten far worse than I could ever have imagined. My paranoia had driven me to the point where I was no longer the protector my wife and theoretical children needed. Jumping at every shadow, every noise. I ended up shooting the love of my life, mistaking her for the creature. It's ironic, isn't it? In my attempts to protect her, I ended up becoming the monster myself. Now I wait down in my cellar, no longer having anything to protect but my own soul. If nothing else... I will slay the beast that took everything from me.

I've actually used a part of this recording for a post before, which was the origin of this whole Original Party idea, and I'll use it again here.

At this point, everyone (the wife and 'theoretical children') sans Kinger has Abstracted and he feels a huge amount of guilt over it, especially since he believes that he made Queenie feel not wanted and loved, because of his obsession to finding the exit.

I...honestly had this thought that Queenie had not minded being stuck in the Circus for all eternity so as long as she had Kinger by her side. When he stubbornly refuses to stop hunting for the exit (for Queenie's sake, mind you, but still...), Queenie...gives up and Abstracts.

The 'cellar' in this context is Kinger's mind when he finally breaks.

Annnd...that's it.

What do you guys think?

[silentangel00]

The Batman

(Reader Insert)

Chapter 5: Answer the Call

Chapter 4: https://www.tumblr.com/silentangel00/732845264415719424/the-batman

Bruce approaches City Hall where the funeral is being held for the late mayor. He gazes at the street that's packed with mourners, makeshift memorials, and Riddler-styled protesters holding up signs. Pulling up in front of City Hall Bruce exits his car as a Valet opens his door. He is immediately met with Paparazzi shouting his name and cameras flashing. He tries to give them a strained smile but immediately turns and ignores them as he reaches for his wallet to pay the valet. A familiar voice catches his attention and he turns to see the Penguin opening a car door.

"We're good, Mr Falcone." Bruce turns upon hearing Falcone's name and watches as he exits his car. His attention is distracted briefly as the valet calls for him and he hands him a wad of cash and turns to move through the thick crowd, bottle-necking at the entrance of City Hall, not taking his eyes off of Falcone. He starts to get closer before a hand slaps into his chest stopping him.

"Hey! Give us a wide berth here would'ya, slick" Penguin warns as he grabs onto him. The commotion catches Falcone's attention and he turns to eye Bruce.

"Hey, watch it, fellas. You got the Prince of the city there." Penguin and the guards loosen their grip and Falcone steps closer to Bruce. "Some event huh? Brought out the one guy in the city more reclusive than me." He smiles as Bruce glares with an edge, a sense of history between them.

"I thought you never leave the Shoreline. Aren't you afraid someone'll take a shot at you?" It was difficult for Bruce to bite back his tone with the mobster.

"Why? Cause your father ain't around?" Falcone cockily retorts "Oz, you know Bruce Wayne?" The penguin looks at him in surprise.

"Wow... is that right?"

"His father saved my life. I got shot in the chest, right here. Couldn't go to no hospital, so we showed up on his doorstep. He took me in, and operated right on his dining room table, kid here saw the whole thing up on the stairs lookin down. I remember your face. You don't think that meant somethin he did that?"

"Means he took the Hippocratic Oath."

"Hippocratic Oath... that's good ..." Falcone says in clear amusement at the answer.

"Excuse me," Bruce says as he abruptly moves on, leaving as Falcone laughs at him. Bruce scans the crowd as he walks inside. He clocks rifled officers among spectators above, and cops stopping a suspicious guy in front of him. Announcements over the speaker ring out in the large space of people

"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you all for coming to today's memorial for our beloved mayor, Don Mitchell, Jr. Our program will begin shortly. As a reminder, the family asks that those wishing to honor the mayor's memory consider a donation to the cause most dear to his heart, the Gotham RenewalFund, our city's safety net."

"What good's a safety net doesn't catch anybody?" Bruce turns to the owner of the eerie voice. A man in a hooded work jacket glares with bitter angry eyes as the VIPs pass. "Didn't help my daughter when she needed it -- I can tell you that. Guy was just another rich scumsucker. He got what he deserved." The man then looks up at Bruce "Know what I mean?" Bruce studies his face as he nods in silence. The man's expression changes as he tries to place Bruce "Hey, don't i know you?" The man is cut off as someone calls Bruce's name.

"Bruce Wayne! Why haven't you called me back?" Bruce is startled as he turns to see Bella Real coming towards him.

"I'm sorry?"

"I'm Bella Real -- I'm running for mayor -- I wouldn't be bothering you here, but your people keep telling me you're "unavailable". Will you walk with me?"

Bruce starts to walk with her as he turns back to the angry man before; He glares and turns to disappear into the crowd. Bruce wasn't paying much attention to what she was saying as he turned back toward her but immediately his attention was caught again. There you were talking to a couple of people off to the side. He stops and stares still not listening to Bella as she bluntly urges him to do more for the city. You look around curiously til your gaze lands on him and you do a sudden double-take as you both lock eyes. You turn to excuse yourself from the conversation and walk over to Bruce and Bella, almost cautiously as if you weren't sure if he was actually Bruce or not. It's been so long and he looks so different you don't want to embarrass yourself by calling a complete stranger the wrong name.

"Y/N! So good to see you again." Bella chimes at your approach.

"You as well, though I wish it was under better circumstances of course." You say as your attention flicks back and forth between her and studying Bruce's face. Bella immediately wipes her smile from her face taking on a gloomy demeanor.

"Of course, of course... Are we still on for lunch next week?"

"Yes ma'am!" You give a small smile.

"I'm going to go pay my respects." Bella turns to Bruce "Will you wait for me? I want to continue this." She then walks off to the front where the Mayor's wife and son are sitting.

"...Bruce," You say giving the same smile that makes his mind turn static.

"Y/N?" He almost forgot that he has to pretend that he didn't know you were back in Gotham. You chuckle nervously as you subtly look him up and down. He has a darkness about his eyes, seems like he hasn't slept in days or weeks. A slight stubble and a seemingly natural look of being miserable.

"Wow... you look-" Awful "Grown-up! ...It's been a while hasn't it?"

"Yeah, it has... When did you get back?"

"Just a few months ago. I tried reaching out to you I promise--- but it seems you changed your number so I stopped leaving messages." Bruce gave you an odd look then looked away.

"It hasn't changed..." He didn't want to lie to you, even though telling you that he just hasn't bothered to check his messages made him feel guilty, but he didn't want to shut you out. Not anymore... "I have a lot of messages to get through so it's nothing personal. I'm just--busy"

"Oh... no I understand!" Even though you smiled at him he could tell he hurt you.

"I could give you Alfred's number, I'm sure he'd love to hear from you." Your face brightened at the offer.

"Oh yes please!" You hand Bruce your phone for him to type in Alfred's number.

"What brings you to Gotham?" He was genuinely curious, he couldn't conversate with you like this as Batman. This was his only chance, even if there was awkward tension between you two with how things were left off ten years ago. You let out an exasperated sigh at the question as you turned and started slowly walking toward the front with Bruce.

"I'm taking over the Gotham branch of the family business" You rolled your eyes. "I'm also volunteering for the GCPD"

"Yeah? How's that going?"

"Well ya know with everything going on it's been kinda crazy for my first case. Haven't slept in almost 24 hours." You say with a humorless chuckle, Bruce looks at you incredulously.

"Well even with lack of rest you look..." Beautiful "Fine." He says as he awkwardly hands you back your phone, your hands brushing for just a second as you return your phone to your coat pocket.

"Ha, thanks... can't exactly say I feel fine though." Bruce stops to look at you noticing the weariness in your voice slip through. You avoid eye contact though looking toward the front at the late Mayors son. " I was there that night--- helped consult on the crime scene. His little boy still has the same look on his face that he did that night..." You say sullenly. Bruce watches along with you as the mayor's son turns around to look at the crowd, his eyes landing on you and Bruce. Bruce looks away to you about to say something when a familiar voice catches his attention.

"Excuse me, chief. Can I talk to you?" Bruce slowly turns to see Gordon behind them talking to the Chief of Police, Chief Bock, in a hushed voice. "Gil Colson is missing... He hasn't been heard from since last night."

"Christ, not again." Chief Bock says exasperated.

"I'm going to go ahead and pay my respects, I'll catch up with you later Bruce." You say walking away before Bruce can turn to say anything else, so he just nods to your retreating form. He bites down the disappointment of his conversation with you being cut short, he continues to listen to the conversation between Jim and Chief Bock.

"You got people looking for him, Jim?"

"Sent a couple guys to his house. Nothing."

"What'd his wife say?"

"She hadn't heard from him."

Suddenly they're cut off by the sounds of distant screams; an awful groaning engine whines from somewhere outside -- then -- sickening thuds. Bruce's eyes immediately flit up in alarm as he turns back to face the entrance, he takes in his surroundings as people start to stand from their seats upon hearing the same sounds. You turn your attention to the back as well, slowly you walk back towards the front opening of the aisle -- curiosity and fear set in as you hear the alarming noises. Bruce takes a quick glance back at you but then follows where your attention is brought up to the second story landing where spectators panic as they turn, seeing something through the windows; all except a silhouetted figure gazing eerily down in Bruce's direction... seemingly waiting for something as the sounds from outside get louder. Bruce shifted on his feet, his gut feeling leading his attention to land sharply right back at the entrance where the doors explode in a blizzard of glass and concrete.

As the D.A.'s SUV rips through the doors and crowd, flowers picked up in the grill of the car, pandemonium ensues as the crowd scatters in panicked screams; some people are tossed into the air. You stumble back in surprise and are quickly knocked off your feet by someone in complete panic. The vehicle slams past guardrails and into the seated area. Bruce spins to see you only a few feet away, disoriented as you get back up on your feet again. He breaks into a sprint and hurls himself at you tackling you out of the SUV's path as it roars past, narrowly missing you as it launches seats over your heads. The car finally crashes into the central staircase, buckling upward with the engine still grinding till it stops...

A surreal moment of quiet then screams, tears, and panic. Bruce lifts his head off of yours as he holds the back of your head and quickly analyzes your face, making sure you're alright. He looks up to the second floor to discover the mysterious figure from before is gone -- Bruce rises with you still in his arms. He's holding tightly onto your elbows to keep you stable as you sway from the sudden rush of adrenaline going to your head.

"Are you ok?" You ask as you look up at him, but his attention is turned towards the SUV -- it's covered in a scrawled crossword puzzle pattern with the endlessly repeating message ‘D.A. -- D.O.A?’

Gordon and a bunch of cops surround the SUV with their guns raised screaming for whoever was inside the car to get out with their hands up. Bruce and you watch with bated breath as the driver door slowly opens all the way, a figure staggering out, hands raised, terrified...

"Christ, it's Colson." Gordon says in shock as he observes the D.A. with a bloody face and tape over his mouth with the words ‘NO MORE LIES’. A clamp is around his neck with lights rapidly flashing on it. A cop notices, horrified, and screams "There's a bomb around his neck!!" People start to scream and duck at this warning. Bruce pulls you in closer without breaking his stare away from the D.A. as a ringing goes off causing everyone to freak out and shield themselves further. The crowd looks up confused as Colson sheepishly lifts his hand and points to a cell phone taped to his palm. As it continues to ring Gordon turns, calling into the room of terrified people.

"Let's clear this place out! Now!"

Police start ushering people out but Bruce hesitates, chilled as he notices a greeting card taped to Colson's chest.

"Bruce we need to go." You say as you try to back out of his grasp to retreat with the crowd, but instead, his grip on your arms tightens. You look up at him curiously as you notice the intensity of his stare on the D.A. You reach up your hand and lightly tap his chest, "Bruce?" you call out softly. This finally gets his attention as he turns to you. "Let's go, yeah?" He silently nods and wraps an arm around your shoulder as he protectively escorts you out, glancing one last time over his shoulder at the greeting card taped to the D.A. -- addressed: "To The Batman."

As Bruce and you reach outside of the building he puts his hands on your shoulders and leans in to make sure you hear him over the commotion. "I've gotta go. Stay safe, ok?"

"Of course, you too." You watch as he walks away, and you turn in the opposite direction to go and find Gordon. Once Bruce reaches his car he leans into the trunk seizing an expensive leather duffle and slams the trunk closed. He disappears into the crowd as a flood of emergency vehicles screech onto the scene.

A short time later the outside of Gotham City Hall is jammed with police, SWAT, ATF, K9 units, and News crews. Gordon and you stand outside a Crisis Command Trailer where techs set up monitors as the leads argue.

"Unbelievable..." Gordon whispers out incredulously.

"Are they seriously fightin' over jurisdiction when that poor bastard is gonna blow any minute?" You say equally as appalled. Only a short while later the police send in a small whirring police robot. It rolls toward Colson as he sits alone, the cell phone in his hand echoing as it keeps ringing. Gil lifts his head as the robot stops before him, he stares oddly at it as a camera slowly extends towards his head.

"We got a picture!" One of the Techs yells out. Everyone suddenly quiets as they crowd around to see Colson just staring sadly into the robot camera. His expression changes when he suddenly turns, struck -- shock begins to fill his eyes.

"What's he lookin at?" Chief Bock questions. Colson sits there frozen as Batman emerges from the shadows, moving slowly across the floor toward him. Chief Bock's eyes widen as Batman appears on the robot's cameras, "Are you kiddin me?! What the hells he doin'?! ... Gordon!!!"

Gordon presses closer along with you to see Batman approaching Gil.

"Your guy's gonna get himself killed in there!"

Your jaw slightly drops as you watch with growing concern. Batman stops, towering over Gil, and reaches out to peel the tape off his mouth. Colson takes a deep breath "Please, he made me do it! I'm so sorry! ... He told me if I didn't do exactly what he said, he'd kill me. I'm so sorry!"

"Looks like a combination lock," Batman says as he studies the contraption around Colson's neck.

"Can't we just cut it off?" Colson whimpers out.

"Not if you want to keep your head." Batman then rips the card off of Gil's chest. On the cover is a cartoon of a lady holding a comically large old phone with the words 'In these trying times, Never forget...' Batman opens it, 'I'm just a phone call away.' -- under that in angry scrawl is the word 'ANSWER'. Gil lifts the ringing phone expectantly as Batman reaches to press the answer button. The phone's screen displays a live split-screen image of the riddler lurking out of frame on one side, and Batman on the other. Riddler stares for a beat before his chilling voice comes calmly through the changer.

"You came..."

"Who are you?"

"Me? I'm nobody... I'm just an instrument here to unmask the truth about this cesspool we call a city."

"Unmask?"

"Yes... let's do it together ok? I've been trying to reach you... You're part of this too"

"How am I a part of this?"

" You'll see..." Riddler says as he shifts to stand fully within frame. A police officer calls out to Chief Bock to come take a look at another monitor they have set up. GC1 news channel is running the feed from the Riddler's phone, broadcasting live through social media.

"Say hello to my followers, we're live! -- They're here to watch our little trial. At the moment, the man across from you, Mr Colson, is dead!"

Colson starts to panic upon hearing this, "Jesus, can we get somebody out here?! This psycho's gonna kill me!"

"SHUT UP!!" Riddler rises from his chair and presses in closer to the phone camera in anger as he screams with a scarily distorted voice " You deserve to be dead after what you did! You hear me?!!" The terrifying outburst makes Gil fall silent -- Riddler starts to eerily chuckle. " I'm giving you a chance -- No one ever gave me a chance." The Riddler has returned to an oddly calm demeanor as he continues, "Now... ever since I was a child, I've always loved puzzles... for me, they're a retreat from the horrors of our world. Maybe they can bring some comfort to you too, Mr Colson."

Colson turns the phone away from Batman and towards himself to face Riddler through the screen, "You want me to do puzzles?"

"Yes! Three riddles in two minutes! You give me the answers, and I'll give you the code for the lock! Do you understand?"

"Yeah, ok-" Gil rises from his seat and starts to pace " So you just want me to-" Before he can finish his question Gil shrieks as the countdown appears on his collar for two minutes and the Riddler starts without warning.

"Riddle number one! It can be cruel, poetic, or blind but when it's denied, it's violence you may find."

"Wait! Can you repeat that? I didn't -- I didn't -- Cruel... poetic?"

"Justice," Batman chimes.

"Huh?" Gil spins to look at Batman to panicked to think straight.

"The answers Justice."

Gil looks at the phone, "Justice?"

"Yes! Justice! And you were supposed to be an arm of justice in this city, along with the late mayor and police commissioner, were you not, Mr Colson?"

"Of course, of course, of course--"

"Riddle number two!" Riddler continues as you still watch on the screen connected to the police robot, biting your nails in anxiousness. " If you are justice, please do not lie. What is the price for your blind eye?"

Gil shakes his head in confusion "Price?"

"Bribes." You say out loud in frustration. Batman turns to the robot slightly as Colson struggles to keep his breath, hyperventilating as he repeats what you say to the Riddler.

"Oh God -- Bribes?"

Your brows furrow in confusion and you look to Gordon as you whisper " Can they hear me through that thing?" Gordon stiffly looks at you and nods as heat rises to your ears in embarrassment.

"He's asking how much it costs for you to turn your back." Batman corrects. Colson cries in exasperation.

"You gotta be kidding me!"

"Fifty-eight seconds!" Riddler interjects.

"How much?" Batman calmly pushes for the answer.

"Nothing!" Colson shakes his head in denial but Batman knows better.

"How much?!" He raises his voice pushing harder for Colson to answer. There's no time to waste.

"Ten grand!" Colson finally breaks. " Ten G's a month! I get a monthly payment just not to prosecute certain cases."

"What cases?"

"He didn't ask me that! Come on!" Colson holds up the phone to answer Riddler " Ten grand! That's my answer, it's ten grand!"

Riddler is obviously having a fun time of this as he giggles, " Okay, okay! Don't lose your head, Mr. Colson! Just one more to go before your time runs out. Last riddle!" He sings out, " Since your justice is so select, please tell us which vermin you're paid to protect..."

"Which vermin?"

"The Rat," Batman answers immediately knowing what this means, " The informant you all protect from the Salvatore Maroni case."

"How do you know about that?" Gil whispers out in shock.

"I'm trying to help you, what's his name?"

"Twenty seconds!" Riddler chimes excitedly.

Gil shakes his head, "No."

Batman steps closer urgently, grabbing Colson, "He's gonna kill you."

"I'm a dead man either way. You're talking to a dead man, okay?! If I go out this way it's just me, but if I give over that name, I have family, people I love -- He'll kill them too!"

"Who will?!"

"People are watching..." Colson whispers out.

"What people?!" Batman shakes him, trying to get something, anything, out of Colson.

"It's so much bigger than you could imagine. It's the whole system!"

Riddler starts to count down from five.

Colson cries-- "FOUR"

"Oh, God, have mercy on me.." "THREE"

Batman looks down in alarm as the timer ticks to zero hearing the Riddler sing out " Goooooodbye!"

Batman turns, shielding his face, as a blast erupts from the bomb around Colson's neck. Propelling Batman back as he slams to the ground, sliding into chairs, as his suit is in flames. Spectators from outside all erupt into rising voices of concern. Your hand slaps to your mouth, muffling a cry of surprise. High-pitched ringing fills Batman's ears as he lies on the floor in a daze. He struggles to open his eyes but can make out the forms of Gordon and you rushing toward him; followed by other cops with their guns drawn. His vision blurs as distorted yelling from the cops all around him fades and he blacks out.

Chapter6: https://www.tumblr.com/silentangel00/738078418748489728/the-batman

[piece-of-hweat]

So. About Danny Phantom and Underworld Office...

Quick break from my Little Nightmares brain for a sec, I wanna talk about stupid ghost creatures.

Recently, I rediscovered a whole ass discord thread I made a year ago, which was literally filled with Charlie in Underworld/Underworld Office stuff. What is Charlie in Underworld and Underworld Office? Well, the first novel (Underworld Office) is a visual/digital novel about a kid named Eugene who stumbles upon the ghost realm. They are also adopted into a found-ghost-office-family. Important note: Eugene's soul can exit their body while they rest. So basically, going ghost, but not really. (the second thing/sequel just follows the redemption arc of an antagonist, Charlie, from the first game)

Now. Danny Phantom. A couple of months ago, my friend introduced me to the show as well as the Phandom, and gotta say. It's pretty cool. Danny Phantom is a cartoon series about a lil silly dude named Danny Fenton. He is half ghost. Because of his half-ghost-ness, he can "go ghost". This is where he turns into a ghost and kicks ghost-ass.

Alright, let's regroup. Now that you know a bit about both fandoms, remember that note from earlier saying that Eugene can "go ghost"? Yea. See where I'm going with this?

My proposal, fellow DP and/or CIU/UWO fans, is to make a crossover AU. Why? Because I need it. I need these two idiots to bond over the fact that they both have connections to ghosts and how, in a way, they're both half-ghosts.

What is the plot/storyline? No fuckin clue All I have is:

Danny's been Danny Phantom for a while now

Eugene moves into Amity Park. Danny, honestly, can't really give two shits about that.

One day, Eugene and Danny meet, they become friends and bond over the fact that they're both dead and alive.

Danny meets the Office Ghosts and they both become allies or smth (tbf, they both fight monsters/bad ghosts)

Both Danny and the Office have a common goal (perhaps a conflict they both want to solve? Maybe)

Now, as for lil stupid notes:

Danny is creeped out by Boss and River. (Boss is cold and Danny feels like Boss would just casually murder him if he looked away for 0.001 seconds. River is just chaotic in a "high-aunt" way. The shit she does probably scares Danny in a "BRO WTF" way)

Eugene and Danny, unlike the other ghosts, are more warmer-coloured and less monotone.

Charlie will spit on Danny's grave and Danny would do the same. They'd probably hate each other's guts in a sibling way.

Luke, Oliver and Joy would probably meet Sam and Tucker. (Tucker and Oliver would honestly be besties ngl. Joy and Sam can both judge each other silently over a cup of coffee)

Alright, that's all I have to offer. Hope you'll uh, consider this possible AU. Um. Have a nice day or night. Don't turn into a half ghost. Or do, I don't know man--

[myasssaysno]

Once upon a Time-Lord.... (What does that even mean?)

Why is the Doctor stood in front of a green-screen like the world, no, the universes worst weather man?

Why is Donna so caught up on events that took place fifteen years ago?

Why does this feel like everything between then and now, never happened?

What is happening?

(I'm aware I'm supper late to the party but...)

The Star Beast (Doctor Who Special of 2023) Review.

This felt nerve racking (which is ridiculous) but watching this actually caused me distress.

I watched the 2005 Doctor Who as a child and liked Donna well enough as a companion (she proved a bit much at times but she wasn't in love with the Doctor, so a win as far as I'm concerned.)

But I never expected to see her back on the screen. Especially not with the 10th Doctor (no, I don't consider him the 14th, though I will refer to him as that from now on, but in reality, the whole point of the number system is to identify the Doctor being referred to by face, not regeneration, because that went out the window, with the War Doctor.)

Point is, RTD came back (for some reason) and wanted to remind everyone about his era of Doctor Who (in case we forgot) and retconned the most tragic companion exit ever.

Not that whole Doctor-Donna thing should have happened in the first place, but still.

That being said, RTD came back, Donna's back, 10th is now also the 14th Doctor (and a part time weather man), and all attention is immediately on how things got left last time.

Which is mistake one; (I can take a shitty opening, to fill in anyone who wasn't their to watch Donna's time as a companion) but at no point does it feel like 15-years has passed.

At no point, do I get a sense of this new Donna. We get constant mentions of everything that happened, but that means nothing to me.

Show me Donna's life. We deserve that. I want to see this woman thrive after the Doctor. I want to see her meet her husband and have weird dreams about him cheating on her with a spider, which her husband finds weird but funny. I want to see the challenges of getting a job, and then the stress of having a job you don't like, I want to see her lose said job and have to explain everything to the family. I want to see her have a child, and her reaction to them coming out as Trans. I want them to have a normal, human life, until Rose Noble finds an alien.

No Doctor. No Aliens. No nothing. Just Donna and her family.

Because then maybe I would have cared when she almost died. Which unfortunately didn't happen.

I'm going to be honest, I wanted Donna Noble to die, and I don't dislike Donna Noble, but her entire introduction and her entire time on screen resolved around this missing chunk of her life. It seemed to consume her, and that's completely unfair. In the end, it seemed like, she'd rather remember and die, then live. Despite her saying the opposite, but that was the option and I think Donna should have known that, and made that choice, because she never got the chance to do so the first time round.

That being said, RTD also seems to have learnt all the wrong lessons from Chibnall, by including diverse characters (just about) but not representing anyone.

Rose Noble (and I still can't believe he named her Rose) is a one-dimensional character. She is Donna's daughter. She is Trans. And she is just super nice. We get nothing more than that. I would have loved to see her interact with the Meep for longer. I wanted them to built up trust and respected, only for it all to be one big lie that tears Rose apart.

Which sounds horrible, but it would add to her character, and also make her aware that not everyone who is discriminated against is immediately trustworthy. They might understand, they might relate but that doesn't mean they care.

Meep proved to be this perfect character, or villain, which demonstrated the looks can be deceiving aspect.

And Rose comes across as someone just young and hopeful enough to be deceived but she wouldn't be the only one. Everyone else got deceived too, she's just the one more heartbroken over it. Because she thought they were friends.

Whilst the Doctor should have ended up at the spaceship, met with Shirley, and they should have teamed up. Because once more, there is no point adding a wheelchair user, if they're pretty much replaceable and just sitting around?

I'm aware that people overlook all types of well people, but you mean to tell me, they didn't think it worth it to hold the woman captive. Did she just hide somewhere? I mean that's not bad, but it also feels bad, like she should have had her moment, beyond appearing when the main character's needed her.

Like I would have loved to see her, where she joins the Doctor, and goes with him, on the taxi ride, which would take place after the spaceship lands not before. And then, they would all end up re-meeting at Donna's house anyway. And Shirley's wheelchair can just be advanced enough to get into the house, and become one of those chair-lifts which gets her upstairs.

My point is, if she wasn't a wheelchair user, she'd actual probably be found dead in a corner somewhere.

Doctor Who (or should I say its writers) really don't care for side-character like they should, unless they're making them the most sympathetic character's imaginable (then its over the top).

Let's jump back to the actual episode which I haven't even talked about probably yet.

It opens weirdly, with the Doctor and Donna filling everyone in (which I have discussed) and then we immediately jump to the Doctor stumbling into Donna, which is both convenient (or not) and destroys any built up to this moment.

Before we can even get into the episode, before we can really understand that 15 years has passed for Donna, and over a thousand years for the Doctor, we immediately have them meet, and it's alright now, because she doesn't immediately die, by looking at the Doctor's face (something we already knew).

And not to get into too much but having the Doctor get his old face back ruins the whole thing about the Doctor's face not even mattering.

Point is, a spacecraft crash lands (though not really) and everyone sees it but Donna. Which was a thing, that never made any sense the first time round, but what can you do?

Would have been nicer to see how that affected Donna? Or that it had no affect, confusing and troubling the Doctor.

Some nice little foreshadowing that things are different now, that things have changed, since the Master turned everyone's face into his.

The Doctor then gets a taxi ride from Shaun, the husband. And that is all you need to know (other than he's happy man, with happy life, and happy family, that's happy all the time (except his wife lost her job, and they can't afford the house anymore and might have to down-size, oh and his daughter things it's her responsibility now to provide for the family, because she's likely blaming herself for existing.))

None of that matters though, because they gave away the money from the lottery, which is all the Doctor's fault.

Like honestly this is the most annoying thing, throughout the entire episode. The focus on money, for all the wrong reasons.

I don't even get the point of it. Are we saying, giving away money is bad? You will regret giving to charity, because one-day you'll need that money?

Because in all honesty, the lottery money, which happened at least ten-years ago, is completely irrelevant.

At this point, the whole focus should be on the fact that a job fired Donna over spilt coffee. (Which apparently was foreshadowing (for reasons unknown to just about everyone.))

Ah, dead-naming.

I'm sorry, but there is zero excuse, and even lesser reasons to do this. It achieves absolutely nothing.

No attention is brought to this, about how horribly it is to be dead-named. It compared to causal bullying, and I don't wanted to lessen the horrors of bullying in general, but it takes one a whole new level of horror when it against Trans people, for being trans, and involves a group of boys on a trans-girl.

(I will not go into this anymore, you either understand or don't.)

And Donna's response, makes her look like an awful parent. Oh, it's okay sweetheart, because I was once a bully, just like those boys, and I'm going to go bully their mother, which might be the reason, she raised her sons like that.

(Not placing the blame completely on Donna, or the Mother for the boys behaviour, but the point remains, don't comfort your kid being bullied, with bullying.)

Now this wouldn't come across as such a bad parent moment, if we're seen Donna, and how much she'd changed since becoming a parent. We get hints of it, and a nice conversation with Sylvia who has also mellowed out nicely.

Unfortunately, we don't get the same conversation with Rose and someone else. Someone she can express herself to, who isn't family and understands.

The closest we get is Fudge, but he's a little kid, and not someone she can really open-up to. I was hoping, that would end up being the Doctor as some point, but that never happened. (All of their bonding just happened of screen, I guess.)

Once again, we've spoke about Rose helping the Meep, and how tamed it is. We've also spoken about the Doctor and Shirley.

Now I have nothing wrong with the way, everything sort of falls out of control very quickly. We have Donna poking the Meep in the eye, the Meep asking for help, and Sylvia panicking, only for the Doctor to turn up, which makes everything worse until Shuan brings a moment pause to everything once more.

Nicely done, (if a little quick), some part do feel a little random. Like the Doctor hearing Donna. Instead of tracking the Meep, as opposed to the escape pod like everyone else.

Also, almost forgot to speak about the sonic.

Some people don't like it. Other's love it. Everyone knew it's just a special thing, and one kind of has to ask, why bother with a new sonic for just three-episodes?

I feel like its wasted potential.

I like a Doctor without a sonic as much as the next person, but I also see the potential in the sonic which is never used. And it has become a part of the Doctor. I mean the guy runs around without a shield, which exist in-universe, alongside teleporters and other helpful gadgets.

The reason for that, is the writer's are never actual prepared to handle that level of technology all the time. It would get boring very quickly, for a shield to have to be destroyed, before the Doctor can be injured, each and every time. But honestly, just have it there, and don't bring attention to it.

I don't think the Doctor needs to be in danger, every episode, and the whole, ducking and dodging, just takes away tension, because you know they're going to be alright. Having the Doctor wear a shield, and being shot at, and surviving, makes sense. And only once, you wanted them hurt or to get shot, do you come up with a reason for the shield to stop working, or have then give it to someone else.

I'm saying, with a little thought, having more advanced technology on the Doctor could actual work. But Writer's don't want that, and Doctor Who fans don't want that.

In conclusion, the new sonic is a one-off anyway. Like, even compared to the rest of the episodes, they never use it again. (I guess it costs too much).

I personally liked that it could be used as a screen, which could come in useful (but is never used again). Didn't like the shielding as much.

We take a moment to sit down, bandage up the Meep's hand, and have a little chat. Now, I've briefly mentioned, but I think Donna comes across to brash at times, but more so now. She's supposed to be a mother, and more tamed but, the not clarifying Wilf is in a home, felt out of place, and more so, blaming the Doctor for misunderstanding.

She did it all the time, the first go round, and it annoyed me to no end. As someone who can easily misunderstand people, I guess it doesn't help, I consider her already knowing the Doctor. But still, even as someone not known to you, you don't call them an idiot for being sad, because they think your grandfather's dead.

Have a heart.

Also, Rose getting at the Doctor for using a he pronoun on the Meep, felt all wrong. Like a new touch, and a nice addition to Doctor Who, but would have liked the Doctor to smile, and ask is it 2023 already, and get a massive glare from Sylvia for his trouble.

Like an acknowledgement, he's dumming himself down and has been since the sixties, because of our out-dated views about gender, would be the perfect moment to have the Doctor open up about his own gender, and not have been ignorant to the entire thing. And this continues, and turns out to be foreshadowing for a worse moment.

Also, also, having the Doctor confess to also having the pronoun 'The' (and not have this be a throw-away line) would have worked to, he could even have mentioned how this is true of all Time-Lords, expect their more than comfortable with he/him, she/her, they/them, when applicable. So, it's not wrong to use, any.

Now, we have the sonic save the day, to allow them to escape upstairs. I like that the Doctor lead them to safety through the attic, a clever move.

However, the fact that Unit, who have been possessed, know where the Meep is, is questionable. Beyond that, the fact they're firing into the house, with the Meep in, is also questionable. And even more so, why is the Meep, still playing pretend at this moment, what is the Meep waiting for exactly, other than the Doctor to catch up?

Now, the Doctor works it out, and drives the Meep to somewhere to speak with the Meep. And then summons the Warrior's (Zogroth's my mistake) to have a chat.

This could have been a good moment, if one, Fudge actual spoke with the Zogroth (why did I not know they had such a cool name?) and befriended them, because then, it's Rose and Meep, against Fudge and Zogroth.

Imagine that, this has been building for a few days, maybe a week, and we don't know who to trust, but Rose is convinced the Meep are the trustworthy one's, and Fudge trust Rose, but it turns out, she's actual wrong. And the Meep almost kills Fudge. Or, is honest with Fudge, letting us know the Meep is evil, but only when Rose isn't looking or around.

We could have even had then, on different sizes of the court room arguing their point. The Doctor caught in the middle, Fudge upset and angry that no-one believes him, because he's a kid. It could have been a whole thing, that's slower paced and gives the audience times to think and pick a side, but no, we just have the Doctor speaking fast, the camera spinning, and the Meep just giving up I guess, and confessing.

Point is, we build on this perception, of good vs bad, and not judging a book by its cover. And have the Doctor be there, to get to the truth of the issue, and could still have the silly mock-court, which happened because, they wanted to have the doctor wear a judge wig?

Not sure on that one, but the fact the Meep relives the truth then, and not at any other point, is the first odd point. Also, the second is that the Meep doesn't kill nor eat the Doctor, Donna, or her family.

Then, we get to the Meep's plan. Which is to destroy the earth for some reason? (I'm not actual sure, and I can't be bothered working it out.)

Point is, the Doctor needs Donna, became a glass barrier is slowing him down, and I know a lot of people like the Doctor (this Doctor) running around pressing button, randomly, but um, it goes on way too long for me.

Either way, he has to cause Donna to remember. And I do, like the whole, list of random works to unblock her memorises, but we've had no built up to it, and an even worse pay off.

Donna remembers, they save the day, and she doesn't die. Because she had a baby, (another companions child, where the Doctor is the third-parent, let hope he doesn't marry this one.)

Now because of this, Rose has some of the Doctor-Donna too, and when its activated, she able to save the Doctor and Donna, which is a little forced.

Point against this, I would rather have had it, fade over time, as though Donna had slowly been releasing the built up energy. Or had her, give it away, (as she sort of does), because now she's content in her life, she has a family, and a daughter, and doesn't want to be the Doctor anymore, doesn't want to travel the universe anymore.

That would have been perfect, but nothing builds up to this moment. Our problem is, we have too many characters, and none of them doing anything (but that's only an issue when Chibnall writes it).

Doesn't matter, the point is, the Doctor's now a male-presenting time-lord again, for like a morning tops, (half a day maybe) and is already too ignorant to realise the truth about Donna's condition, which has never happened before.

This actual could have been a brilliant moment, where Donna's like, you don't understand, because you haven't lived with this for fifteen-years. Which would link in, with the fight a lot of people (particularly woman) have with Doctor's presuming they understanding the illness a person is going through, better than the patient.

The Meep is stopped and honestly deserved a little better, some people really liked him. I thought it a mistake to not allow them to take it further in their deception, so it had a point. Also, they whole, they weren't evil, but made evil, and this Meep is the last, feels like, it missing the point, this episode should be aiming for. And that is that, appearance doesn't matter.

Rose has always had the memorises of the Doctor shinning through, wonderful, another character indebted to the Doctor for life, just what we need. (And the first trans character, is a by-product of the Doctor, so she can be trans, but you can't, because you're human and only the Doctor the weirdo who's male, female and more.)

Donna should have gone back to her life after this, we should have seen her visiting Wilf, to watch the stars together. Both of them wondering about the Doctor, missing him. But content to sit and watch from a safe distance, because she is that over the Doctor, and that secure in herself, and her family. That is the ending Donna Noble deserved.

3/10

Forgettable Villain. Misunderstood Characters. Too Much Going On. Happening Too Quickly. And The Worst Offender Of Them All Empty Inclusion.

(OH, and also, it's supposed to be a 60th anniversary of the WHOLE of Doctor Who).

[skeletinmoss]

The curse of the dark Phoenix

Chapter 15: The tyrant’s chosen

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Being a horse and letting another person ride on his back probably wouldn’t be something Roman would’ve ever considered something he’d be proud off. But he was.

His first transformation had been flawless. He’d adopted all the qualities of his target creature successfully. Virgil didn’t feel heavy to him and he kept up a steady pace the whole way through. Even squeezing out a sprint for the last few miles. Winning an unofficial race against Patton.

Not that he’d brag.

Virgil halted him a bit before they reached the end of the forest, before the lake was in full view.

“Best that we draw as little attention towards ourselves as possible once out in the open,” he suggested as he vanished the saddles.

“Alright. Time to turn back. Remember. If something doesn’t go quite right, you can just try again and fix it,” he promised.

Roman took a deep breath. He could do it. Just like with turning into a horse, but now focusing on becoming human…

He breathed in and out. Feeling his body changing. Come on, hurry…

After a few, long, uncomfortable, moments he was back on two legs with two arms a torso and a head… Everything seemed in order… Except… His hair felt longer…

“Well, you didn’t get stuck with horse legs,” Patton giggled. His shift having gone flawlessly.

“How bad?” Roman asked.

“Just, long hair… And it’s still white. But you can fix that. Just breathe for a few moments,” Virgil insisted. Roman nodded and did just that…

“There you go. Short and auburn once more,” Virgil said in approval. “Though it did look good long,” he added.

Roman blushed. Maybe, he could try growing it out… Just to see if he liked it. There were hair growth potions. He could have long hair within 24 hours if he wanted.

Virgil saw how Roman was running a hand through his hair and smirked at him. Roman blushed, knowing he was caught.

“Now. Let’s go,” Virgil said, a little smug. Okay that was not necessary.

“I doubt the temple will have an arrow pointed at it’s entrance. Our best bet is the eastern side, that’s where the closest village is and he cult members will need some supplies and possibly contact with their families from time to time. It makes the most sense to have your exit near the road you need to take to get those things,” Virgil mused.

“Once we get close to that road, we’ll have to find the entrance or have good timing and see someone enter or exit. We’ll need a lot of luck either way. I wouldn’t be surprised if whoever did this has measures in place to protect the cult from detection,” Virgil mused as they came upon the lake. Now Roman was the one who couldn’t help but feel smug.

Virgil looked back at him curiously. Roman shrugged humbly. Virgil was intrigued and impressed.

“Care to share?” Logan stated a bit annoyed.

“Well. We won’t need that much luck. A sunstone needs sunlight to charge right?” Roman pointed out. Virgil’s eyes widened.

“But how are they getting that in a temple at the bottom of a lake?” he realized.

Roman nodded and pointed at a very, very small island with what looked like an open well in the middle.

“I’ll bet money that that shaft ends directly above the sunstone. And if it were blocked by something, say a branch…” he pointed out.

“Then someone would have to hurry to the surface to remove it so the sunstone won’t go without power in the middle of the night and fail to keep their god in his beastly form!” Logan finished.

“That… Is quite smart,” he added.

“No need to sound so surprised. Just because you are the smart one doesn’t mean the rest of us have to be dumb,” Roman huffed.

Logan was quiet for a moment. “I’m sorry Roman. You are right. You made it through the same training as me. I know you can be very smart. Smarter than me in certain ways. I am sorry for doubting you,” Logan admitted.

Roman was a little taken aback now. “Oh… Thank you. It’s… good to hear you say that actually,” he said after a few moments.

Logan nodded. “That goes for you too Patton,” he added.

“Oh, that’s alright. Thanks anyway,” Patton smiled brightly.

“Well. Let’s head to the east side and see if the plan works,” Virgil suggested, more than a little proud of Roman for his strategy.

Virgil looked at him. Inquisitive. Roman glanced at the moon crystals around the high mages neck pointedly. Virgil's eyes widened in surprise, and he cocked his head curiously. Roman shrugged. Modest and offering a bit of the admiration he felt for him and the uncertainty he'd felt about suggesting something that might've been obvious to the high Mage.

Virgil smiled at him fondly and presented him with a feeling of awe of his own. Roman vaguely remembered that feeling pressing at his consciousness when he got past his inner walls while transforming into a horse.

It was not the same awe Roman had shown. The respect and admiration for Virgil's talents as a mage.

Virgil had been impressed, sure. But it was mixed with the sort of awe you feel witnessing a particularly beautiful sunrise.

He blushed. Virgil smiled satisfied, eyes drifting briefly to his lips with want.

Oh gods!

"Ahem," Logan interrupted.

"Sorry. Roman just told me that he came up with his strategy when he saw me put the crystals in the moonlight to charge. He didn't say anything until now because, like how you assumed that your spell wasn't something new, he didn't want to come off as condescending by offering a plan I already had worked out," Virgil surmised. Roman felt excited to hear that the translation was so accurate. They really were getting good at this.

Logan waited for a moment. Studying Roman's expression and concluding Virgil had interpreted everything correctly. The studious great wizard mage shook his head. "I suppose we'll just have to get used to it," he muttered.

"Indeed. We will be a bit more mindful of what topics might be best discussed out loud," Virgil offered before turning to Roman.

"There is something I would like to ask out loud while we walk though," he said softly in a way that had Patton and Logan slow their pace and start their own conversation tk offer then privacy.

"Sure, what is it?" Roman asked, matching Virgil's volume.

"You know how I asked for time?" Virgil asked. Roman nodded.

"And I know you have been very bad at taking it slow," he teased.

Virgil smirked. "If I wasn't taking it slow, I would have kissed you as soon as I knew my feelings were returned," he stated, making Roman flush. Kissing Virgil... that was something he'd been trying not to think about. But now... he was definitely thinking about it.

Virgil chuckled. "I know that the idea of ascending... is a lot. But would you consider it? To give me a bit more time?"

Roman stared in confusion.

"I know that outliving everyone might not appeal to you. But... I need a bit more time to decide if I want to stay. And, if you'd be willing, I'd like to have that time without a ticking clock on your mortality over my head. It is not a demand. Just a request. Would you be willing to ascend and accept the gift of time, just for a few years?"

Roman frowned. "With staying... you mean..."

"I mean, I would grow old with you," Virgil nodded. "You know you aren't the first man I've had feelings for. And the subject of growing old together has come up in relationships before. But this is the first time I've thought of it so soon and without prompting. I don't know how I feel about age and, eventually, death, right now. Too much else is going on. And I don't know how long it will take to fix everything. But... I have seen high mages find partners they couldn't live without. I figured I'd gotten good enough at goodbyes and cherishing memories to not experience that. But... When I get to know someone, there is a moment where I consider how I'll miss them when they are gone. And it's never a happy thought... but it has never... felt so wrong before. And I don't know if that's just due to our bond or because the situation is so crazy and you are the one thing I can completely trust right now... but I'll need time to figure it out. Again. You don't Have to. It's not like if you don't feel ready to ascend then a relationship is off the table. I just thought I'd ask," he explained nervously. Roman felt his heart race in his chest at the implications of all that he was feeling from Virgil. And what he was saying.

"Virgil. I have been taking an interest in what being immortal is like because I wanted to decide whether I would be able to live with it. And the way you see it. To carry on so many stories... to make sure that the ones I love are remembered even if only by me. I think that would be a grand adventure. Especially with a partner at my side. Though it won't be a requirement. Even if it hadn't been you who we found first. Once I heard of the possibility of rising even higher in rank, it would be on my mind as something I might want to do,” Roman confessed. Something wordless passed between them.

"We're here!" Patton announced, pulling them from their little bubble.

"Okay. Time to see if this works," Virgil nodded as he appraised a nearby tree. He chose a branch that had already suffered from a recent storm from the looks of it, but still had enough leaves for their purposes. With a swift pattern of hid hand, the branch was severed and floated over to the island. Roman noticed Virgil's feathers glowing. He was using his own plumage as a catalyst. Brilliant.

The branch covered the well, and the four mages settled in the grass to lie in wait for someone to come out.

They kept quiet. Roman saw Virgil clench his messaging stone in his hand and covered it with his own in a soothing gesture. They'd save his friend. Soon.

Suddenly a rock near the water moved. Someone walked up. Shielding his eyes from the sun.

Virgil jumped up and before the robed figure could even look up a strong wind pushed him back into the lake where he was immediately tangled in fast growing vegetation. They tried to scream but no sound came out.

"Let's go," Virgil instructed, leading the way down the staircase. Roman glanced at the cultist, left trashing in their binds, before following swiftly, pulling the spear out of the satchel. Hoping it would serve him well in battle.

He was right behind Virgil so the moment the sunstone’s magic overpowered his moon crystals Roman could step in and finish whatever enemy Virgil might be facing.

They hurried down the stairs. The farther they got before an alarm was raised the better.

They hadn’t had a lot of time to study and Roman had only come up with a few ideas to help protect them.

They soon came down to the first floor.

“There’s three floors total,” Virgil announced, his eyes glowing purple. Roman trusted that whatever he just did, ensured that that information was accurate. So this was floor one.

This was their first true hurdle, luckily there were only five cultists on this floor. To their left there seemed to be supply rooms and to their right a small library. Roman doubted any of those books contained anything good though.

One of the cultists turned to the exit. Roman knelt down and willed the door opening to close itself. The stone obeyed him. It wasn’t very thick as he had to draw from the surrounding stone and didn’t want to weaken the structure of the building too much. A few firm hits of a sword or something like it would probably break through. But it discouraged the runner from trying to reach the lower floor and it would delay reinforcements.

Virgil did something similar by sinking two cultist, who’d been blinded by Star rushing them in his amorphous form, up to their knees into the floor.

Patton tackled one in wolf form and then shifted back, putting him to sleep.

While Patton tied his victim up Logan shot an arrow to the fourth cultist that hit him in the tight and turned out to contain a fast working nerve agent. The cultist went down. Roman smirked as the fifth one charged him with a club. He used the blunt end of his spear to knock it out of his hand and then sidestepped him and gave him a firm knock on his head knocking him out.

“They don’t seem like they are high in rank. Don’t expect more senior members to be as unprepared or weak,” Virgil advised as Roman and Logan tied their victims up for good measure.

Roman nodded. Patton took down the barrier with a decisive strike from his staff.

“Nice,” Roman complemented. Patton smiled brightly and then they headed down.

Behind them they could hear the sound of armored men coming down a staircase.

Good. Reinforcements were right where they needed them to be.

Virgil flinched halfway through and stifled a pained cry with his fist before turning into a phoenix again. Roman flawlessly caught him and put him on his shoulder. The stairs were too narrow to fly. But the second floor wasn’t.

Star wasted no time and pounced on the first cultist he saw. Before Virgil took off, before Roman had a chance to take in his surroundings. First he spotted the doorway and did the sealing again.

But this time, a cultist barged through the door and rushed downstairs.

“We are on a timer now!” Virgil’s voice echoed through the room. Oh… Well it seemed managed to maintain human speech now when he was forced to transform.

Roman looked up as he pulled stone from the floor to create an armor for himself. This time there were ten enemies and they were down a fighter. One who could restrain his opponents anyway.

Virgil dove for the cultists and clawed at their faces causing them to let out painful enraged cries.

The room was bigger. And more what Roman expected when he imagined a cult’s temple.

There was an altar in the middle with a chalice, stained with something that Roman feared was blood.

Along the walls were murals. On the left one depicting a fire breathing chimera and kneeling figures offering it food on one side while on the other figures were carrying things away towards a taller figure drinking from a chalice and holding a shiny staff. In front of them a sun god type figure bestowing some kind of blessing on a figure with a similar headdress to the bigger figure in the first drawing. On the right there was a very detailed anatomically accurate dissection of a chimera depicted. That… Was just wrong. Magical beings were near or fully sentient and as Roman learned, in this case probably an actual human being. Not that any of this would be okay with an average animal. But the sentience of the creature made it extra bad.

Stardust whined as the enemy threw him off. Which enraged Patton who turned into a bear and slapped him several feet to the side, causing him to make hard impact on the floor. He came back up bizarrely quickly.

These guys really were tougher than the previous set.

It didn’t matter though. They would still defeat them.

Two cultists came at Roman with clubs, but he managed to avoid the first attack and while the second one hit, it was absorbed by his armor. Good, it worked the way he intended then.

Considering a backhand from a bear hadn’t discouraged the first guy, he opted for some sharp end action. He stabbed one of his attackers in the shoulder, which did bleed and did get him to his knees. The other one he stabbed in the foot. Also highly effective.

He tied them up and reassured them that the wounds wouldn’t kill them while reinforcing the ropes with some Magic. He heard someone rushing him from behind, laid his hand on the floor and just let his magic go ham. When he turned around he saw someone with a raised club, aiming for his head now frozen in place as waterweed had wrapped itself all around him to the point where he couldn’t move a muscle.

Roman looked up to his friends as he went back to patching up the cultists wounds, though he was starting to think he was being much too nice. Still, if they lived they could be punished.

And just because they were nasty people didn’t mean Roman could hold himself to a lower standard.

Logan was panting, his eyes wide as three more paralyzed cultists laid around him. Each being shot at least three times before going down as far as Roman could tell.

Bearton was wrestling with a guy, three others hanging from nasty looking hooks by their robes. Stardust growled and jumped on the guy’s back, biting him making hip cry out and allowing bearton to pick him up and hang him next to his buddies. Then Patton returned to human form and put the four of them under a sleeping spell.

He looked down at Stardust who’d jumped of once Patton had a hold of his opponent.

“You’re such a good boy,” he cooed, ruffling Star’s head, much to the wolf’s delight.

“Well… Those weren’t normal people,” Logan concluded.

“They had a lot of magical parts at their disposal,” Virgil’s voice echoed as he flew to Roman to land on his shoulder once again. “Never mind them though. The soldiers will deal with them. We should go,” Virgil insisted. “The enemy expects us this time and there is only one doorway,” Logan pointed out.

Roman nodded. “I’ll take point. Whatever they send in, my armor can take. And I have a little surprise for them in return,” he stated determinedly.

“… Yes,” Virgil agreed reluctantly.

“Patton, you carry Virgil for a bit. I don’t want him to get hit on accident,” Roman insisted. Virgil disliked hopping over to Patton’s shoulder even less, but he didn’t protest.

Roman took a deep breath and charged down, feeling a fire in his heart. He could do this. He had it planned out. No hesitation. Just push through.

Great plan… But then he got hit with magic. Most of it got tanked by his armor, but that was about all it could take. He fell to his knees, though he oversold how hard the spell had hit. It stung, his chest ached. But he wasn’t out of commission. But his hands were on the floor so he was ready to pull his biggest trick. He was a bit winded, not just from the fighting but also because he’d been casting without any catalyst. Which saved time in combat, but it also left him tired. Especially after trotting all the way here with a person on his back.

He looked up. There were twenty beefy soldiers in loincloths and red body paint, rather than robes before him. Forming a barrier between him and the back of the room where an ornately dressed individual with a staff in hand pointed at Roman. A slain disciple before him and behind him a pillar of glowing sun stone and chained to it in golden chains a chimera.

That, no doubt was Remus.

“Killing your own disciples Marcus?” Virgil’s voice wondered discussed as he, Patton, Logan and Stardust came up behind Roman.

“… It can’t be…” the magic user breathed in disbelief.

“It can. And it is,” Virgil stated, hopping over to Roman’s shoulder.

“Now why did you kill the boy who came to warn you. Giving you an advantage you need, but won’t save you if I am honest,” Virgil insisted.

The mage righted himself. “He failed to be useful in battle, his blood will instead aid me in mine,” the leader said coldly.

“That attitude is why you look like crap. I expect any student of mine to be smart enough not to indulge in dark magic,” Virgil scolded. This guy used to be a student of Virgil!?

The mage cackled and now that Roman looked a bit closer, there was something off about him. He had markings that on first glance looked like birthmarks or scars, but now that he paid attention, they didn’t look right. Almost tar like, some were even bubbling slightly.

“A sacrifice I made for my disciples. It took a while to tame the tyrants beast but I promised them strength and longevity. None of us look in our seventies do we?” he stated proudly.

“So? I don’t look my age either. You aren’t special,” Virgil scoffed.

“But you, like this beast have been shunned by the sun, while I am the sun’s chosen master of time!” the nutjob announced.

“Says the guy wo didn’t manage to become a mage until he was halfway his twenties. You never even became a great mage. You are impatient and arrogant and unwilling to learn what you don’t already have talent for. You were a waste of recourses and time. And you still are. Now, be smart about it and let Remus go. Otherwise, it’ll be so much worse,” Virgil warned, his feathers standing on end.

“The tyrant’s beast? I would, but he hasn’t even acknowledged your presence Shadow of the Sunbird. Your friend has faded long ago and is now a docile pet. He does not even respond when he is harvested anymore,” Marcus taunted.

Roman glanced towards Virgil, wondering if he could go for it.

Virgil’s caution vanished, leaving only cold seething rage. Time to go for it.

He poured all his strength into this next attack. They were at the bottom of the lake now so he pulled not just from the stone, but from the lake as well, even pulling up some sunstones from underneath. If his creation made contact with the big one they’d be charged and it could use them to do some rudimentary magic.

It came with risks it meant the ground under them was less stable. As it was there was a big crater between him and the soldiers. In it stood his creation. A ten feet tall Gollum made of stone.

“Protect my friends,” he ordered. A simple order with enough wiggle room for him. Virgil clearly disapproved though. Noticing that Roman hadn’t included himself in the order. He didn’t need to be protected. He was going to do something potentially dangerous and he couldn’t have his Gollum try to stop him to keep him safe.

“Go take care of the chackles. We’ll keep the bad guy busy,” Roman promised.

Virgil felt mad but then a roar sounded and the Gollum barged through the front lines, Marcus disappeared to avoid his rampage. Clearly the Gollum had decided that taking out the biggest threat was a good course of action. Roman was a little proud. About ten soldiers focused on the Gollum. Leaving a more manageable number for Roman and his friends to deal with.

None of their attacks even phased it though as it rushed for the sunstone and grabbed it tight, glowing with magic. The Chimera stirred and got up. Roused from his slumber by all the ruckus.

They had to work fast. Once the restraints were broken and Remus realized that he was free, who knew how he’d react.

Another reason why he’d made the Gollum so big.

Something had to keep a rampaging Chimera from accidently squishing his friends if his own idea to keep that from happening failed.

Right now he should focus on not getting his head smashed in. Patton and Logan both had gotten the hang of their given weapons. Patton switching between casting and hitting with his staff. Making hybrid forms near flawlessly. Using parts of animals Roman had never seen before. He didn’t know what kind of animal had a tail like that but it could support Patton’s entire weight allowing him to use his donkeylegs to deliver a phenomenal kick that the beefed up cultists just weren’t prepared for. He combined that with eagle wings on his back so he could get a bit of altitude and bring his staff down with all his weight behind it. His arms were thicker and covered in black fur the skin of his hands grey.

He left his opponents dazed on the ground and unable to go back for seconds.

Logan managed to keep his opponents on a distance with arrows that seemed to spark with lightning and halt them in their stride.

Roman meanwhile was ready to see what damage a falling star could do in the hands of a great mage. He let his remaining strength flow into the weapon that was forged as a sign of appreciation and friendship and he felt a kinship with the spear. A promise somehow. He fought on and looked up briefly as he heard his Gollum roar. It had grabbed the pilar with one hand and now it was merging with it. The pillar was about four feet tall and that might not sound big, but considering most sunstones were small enough to fit in a child’s hand, it was massive.

And now it was lifted out of the ground and the Gollum wielded it like a hammer.

“No hurt!” it demanded swiping at the cultists who were still trying to bring it down, pushing them back with a solar wind attack. Roman remembered reading about those while helping Patton study at the academy.

“There you go! Good job!” Roman called out before taking in his surroundings again. Suddenly he saw that one of the soldiers had grown a brain to use and had managed to sneak up in Logan’s blind spot. “Logan!” Roman gasped as he made a run for it, knowing he’d be too late but wanting to try anyway. He was closest by no one else could help. He swung his spear through the air to discourage anyone from coming near him and blocking his path. Logan looked up confused. But before he could even look at what had Roman so frantic, two invisible strikes hit the would be sneak attacker. Roman came to a stop. Did he do that?

“No hurt!” The Gollum repeated, clearly annoyed that his attempt at reasoning with the bad guys hadn’t gone well. A slam of his hammer had several enemies sink to their waist in the ground… Good. Right. Gollum had his friend’s back. That left someone to watch out for that Marcus guy.

Roman’s eyes found the cursed mage and he was doing his best to keep Virgil from breaking the Chimera’s chackles. Both individuals seemed to annoy the Chimera at the moment. Roman wondered if he even recognized his friend’s guide form right now. He hoped he did. Otherwise this rescue thing would end up really dangerous for them all.

Not that it wasn’t already.

He charged for the mage. “Hey! Ugly!” he called out effectively distracting the mage.

“Ugly? You want to see ugly?!” Well he struck a nerve.

The mage held out a hand and the body of the fallen disciple started to glow. Roman’s eyes widened in horror as he realized the blood was being drained from it and whirling around the mage in a grotesque ball of thick black tarlike substance, mixing with something similar pouring from the mage who’s eyes were glowing white.

Roman tried very hard not to throw up as he took a few steps back, while the goo covered the mage and then formed some kind of vaguely humanoid creature of nightmares. Oh shit…

“No hurt!” Roman’s Gollum insisted. Considering the nightmare man an immediate threat to the people he was entrusted to protect. He came charging in and knocked the creature in the stomach. While it didn’t leave the dark monster unphased it didn’t send him flying. The two giant creatures started wrestling. Making the ground shake. Roman trusted that he’d at least notice should his Gollum lose and focused on the Chimera in front of him. He held his spear ready. Keeping glancing around him to see if any enemies were approaching. Most were down it seemed. Logan and Patton could probably…

“Here he goes!” Virgil’s voice warned and Roman heard a snap. A wave of green energy went through the Chimera and he rose up with a roar. Yeah, those chackles definitely had been enchanted to keep him mostly docile.

Remus took in a deep breath and next thing Roman knew he breathed a blast of fire at his Gollum and the mage. Both of whom tanked it. In fact. Roman’s creature seemed to be even stronger now and getting the upper hand in this wrestling match. Good.

The Chimera breathed in again and this next blast was aimed at the room. Where Roman’s friends were. No way.

“Hey! Jackass!” He called out. Drawing the beasts attention. “Yeah! You want to fire on my friends you gotta start with me!” he demanded. The idea was crazy. And he wasn’t sure if he had enough energy to pull it off more than once but hopefully that would be enough time for Virgil to figure out how to calm his friend down.

Roman couldn’t back out now because it seemed like Remus was happy to oblige and unleashed the full force of his fire on him.

Roman responded by setting his magic free. Hoping to absorb the fire the way his Gollum had. Begging his guide, the bird that was born in fire, to not let the flames that were both death and birth to him consume him. To let him consume them instead.

His inner fire seemed to grow bigger as he felt the flames engulf him… But they didn’t hurt.

They were… Energy. An ocean of warm energy he could draw from… No, he could be a part off.

He was energy. He was fire… He was magic. He understood it now…

The flames were gone and Roman’s fire raged like never before. “Bad kitty,” he growled.

He heard chaos behind him, people fleeing. Seeing him tank that attack probably wasn’t great for moral. The source of their power had said Die and he said No thank you. Probably looked pretty cool.

Remus cocked his head curiously. Trying to figure out why the annoying little guy wasn’t burned extra crispy.

Then Virgil flew right in front of his face and he was distracted. He made a few rounds and Remus tried to catch him. Virgil flew up through the shaft which was just barely big enough for Remus to follow him through, Star took on his magic form again and followed after them.

The mage monster wailed and tried to grab for his captive. But Roman’s Gollum wasn’t having it.

“Everybody out!” Logan instructed right before the temple started shaking. Clearly a chimera climbing up through the sun tunnel was the last straw.

Roman reached for the ground and willed all bindings undone. The cult members were more concerned with survival than fighting now and rushed up the stairs, followed by Roman and his friends. They couldn’t exactly have them escape the guards.

Coming up on the first floor they saw a collective of guards had been ready to descend down to clear the last floor, the floor they were on now void of cult members.

Good.

“Get upstairs, we’ll worry about arrests when we’re all alive!” Roman insisted. All but two. His Gollum was still holding down the cursed mage and they would be the only ones lost today if Roman had a say in it. He was sad for his creation’s fate. But he was proud of him. He hoped it knew that.

The soldiers followed his orders and hurried up to warn their comrades that might still be in the crumbling building to hurry to the surface.

Roman noticed the chalice was gone as he rushed past the altar. Taken for evidence no doubt.

They rushed up the stairs the walls all around caving to pressure. Gods Roman hoped hat Virgil and his friend got to the surface okay.

“Get back!” Logan warned as they got to the top floor, the bookcases emptied and the supply closets were likely the same.

A piece of ceiling was coming down and that would have meant a watery grave for the three of them, five soldiers and 4 cult members if not for Logan halting the process and reversing it. From what Roman could tell he had put the entire room in a temporary stasis. The structure was trapped in the moments before the building started collapsing.

“Hurry!” Logan growled, prompting the group to rush up the stairs, Logan slowly backing towards them. Roman and Patton waited for him to drop the spell so they could all make it to the surface together.

They’d make it… They had to make it…

Roman fell to his knees in relief as they made it to the surface. After he took a moment to catch his breath he looked up… Everything looked in order. He counted 35 cult members arrested. Good. That was good.

“Oh! There they are!” Patton announced.

Roman looked up and saw a Chimera and something flying make it to the shore a long sprint ahead.

He looked to the knights and something caught his eye. A scissor blade. A unique sort of weapon and one he knew in his gut belonged to that Remus fellow.

“Good work everyone we’ll report back later. We need to finish up some business first. I’ll take that,” he said, grabbing the weapon and rushing* towards Virgil who’d just taken human form and was slowly approaching his friend.

They watched as the distance between them and the reunion got smaller and smaller and Virgil managed to put the moon crystal around the lion neck, making his friend turn into a man.

A big buff man, with hair like a lion’s mane with a streak of gray, his bare back covered in scales and his legs those of a goat. “Oh my,” Patton breathed as they slowed their pace to not ruin the no doubt emotional moment by barging in.

The man cracked his neck.

“Remus… I… I’m so glad to see you… I’m sorry it took so long. I…”

Remus held out his hand and the scissor blade disappeared from Roman’s hand into his own.

And just as they arrived… Virgil’s head fell to the ground. The lights in his shocked eyes dimming before them.

*Don’t run with Scissors kids.

[ellie-e-marcovitz]

Six: Calm before...

prev.

He exited the Defence classroom, again feeling a touch aimless. Professor Weasley had wanted to see him after classes… But he had not a clue as to where the main Transfiguration classroom was in relation to where he was now.

Fishing out the Field Guide, it seemed Professor Weasley was of the same mind. There was a message from her.

I see that you’re done with classes for today, and I am currently in-between mine. Come and see me as soon as you can. – M. Weasley.

Below was a set of brief instructions to the Transfiguration classroom, which he tapped. A miniature map appeared, and he followed it the best he could. Barring the door jamming on him, he made good time.

He even found another floo flame, tucked next to the door into the courtyard area.

Crossing the Transfiguration Courtyard, he admired the serenity of the space almost in the middle of the castle. A good place to study, no doubt.

The Transfiguration classroom was just off the courtyard, tucked away in a far corner. The door seemed wholly unremarkable, as he climbed the steps to it.

He knocked twice, before pushing open the door. Professor Weasley’s voice floated out, as he entered.

“…was thinking the same thing, Deek. Perhaps you could –?”

It was a large room, light flooding in from the windows at the front. He could hardly take the whole room in, or knew where to look.

“Oh, excuse Deek,” came another voice, before a pop echoed through the room, and he approached professor Weasley.

“Ah! There you are.” She came and stood in front of him, a kind smile on her face. “I trust your first day of classes went well?”

“They… did, professor.” He wondered if she’d meant his first classes, but shrugged it off.

“I heard as much from both professors Hecat and Ronen,” Professor Weasley agreed. “It seems Professor Fig has taught you quite a bit before you arrived. I’d wager good Galleons that there’s a good deal more to your travels here than what you’ve told me – isn’t there?”

He gulped. He really didn’t feel comfortable lying to Professor Weasley, considering all she’d done to have his first day here go so smoothly. But if the headmaster found out…

He shook his head. “I’m sorry, Professor, but there’s nothing more.”

“I see.” There was an implacability to her voice, as if she’d resigned herself to a long wait. “Like trying to get a sonnet from a Streeler.”

He was left a little confused by that. He’d have to look that up later.

“Regardless,” Professor Weasley continued, “you must continue to build upon what you’ve learned. In that regard, I have asked your professors to help hasten your progress with some extra assignments.”

“I do remember Professor Ronen mentioned something about that,” he told her. “About an assignment after reading my summer charms essay. As did Professor Hecat.”

“In fact, Professor Ronen will meet you outside, in the courtyard, when you’re done here. He will assign you your first one then. Now,” she switched topics. “About that trip to Hogsmeade I mentioned earlier… We have arranged for you to replace the supplies that you lost on your way here – including seeds, potions recipes and spellcrafts.”

He nodded. Those had been in the smaller trunk that had been destroyed by the dragon. “Thank you, Professor.”

“And Mr. Ollivander will connect you with the perfect wand.” Professor Weasley gestured to the borrowed wand he was currently using. “You’ve been managing well with a borrowed wand, but I think you will find that the magic you cast with your own to be far superior.”

He agreed with that, but felt anything new here wouldn’t compare to his original wand.

A question bubbled up in mind, one re-emerging from when he’d originally gathered his supplies. “I’ve been wanting to ask this, professor, but what’s a spellcraft? I’d never heard of one until arriving here.”

He honestly felt like an oblivious idiot at times, despite arriving in Britain two? years ago.

Professor Weasley gave an understanding smile. “A spellcraft is like a recipe, of sorts, and is used when conjuring objects. I shall certainly explain more when it comes to you beginning to work with Transfiguration magic.”

He nodded. “And you mentioned Mr. Ollivander… Is there an Ollivander’s in Hogsmeade? I remember the one in London, sort of, but…”

“There is,” Professor Weasley confirmed. “Most are familiar with the shop in Diagon Alley, currently manned by the eldest Ollivander son. But we’re fortunate to have Mr. Ollivander nearby. He is a genuinely skilled craftsman and a highly skilled wandmaker. I would trust no one else to pair me with a wand.”

He nodded, excitement building. “I’m eager to get to Hogsmeade.”

Professor Weasley laughed a little. “Very well. I’d like for you to make your first visit there with a classmate. Someone who can help you get your bearings. Perhaps either Sebastian Sallow or Natsai Onai? I’ve heard and noticed you spending some time with both?”

He internally snorted. The most he’d done was talk with Sebastian, in the Defence classroom.

“I’d like to go with Natty. I’ve enjoyed her company.”

Professor Weasley grinned. “Excellent choice. Miss Onai is one of our most talented students, and she does know the area. She’ll keep you well clear of Victor Rookwood and his undesirables en route to the village.”

“Rookwood?” he asked, the name nagging at him.

“A rather unsavoury local.” Professor Weasley’s expression was of dislike. “Best to avoid him and his associates – including, his right-hand of sorts, one Theophilus Harlow – if you can.”

He nodded. There was a good reason if Professor Weasley was giving him a heads up.

“Once you’ve finished Professor Ronen’s assignment, Miss Onai will meet you at the main castle doors as soon as she can.”

Further nodding, though he felt a bit confused as to which were the main castle doors. There were plenty of them, even from a brief glimpse of the map.

“No time to waste. The sooner you complete your work, the sooner you can enjoy a Butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks.” A piece of parchment fluttered down on Professor Weasley’s desk, folding itself into what looked like a crane. “Ah, it seems Professor Ronen is ready for you in the courtyard, Mr. Northrup.”

She gestured towards the door, a clear but polite dismissal.

“Thank you, again, Professor,” he said, before hurrying out. Part of him wanted to explore the classroom further, another was wanting to escape to the castle grounds.

He opted for learning what Professor Ronen had planned. Anything that could get him exploring, he leaned towards.

Exiting, he spotted Professor Ronen over by the fountain in the middle of the courtyard, causing parchment folded into similar figures as the crane to float around him.

“Ah, there you are!” Professor Ronen greeted, as he reached the fountain.

“You have a new spell to teach me, Professor?”

“Indeed I do. An exceptionally useful one at that – the Mending charm, Reparo. Fixes things right up, and makes a broken object good as new, in the blink of an eye.”

He had vague memories of either Gwyneth or Kendal practicing that over the summer holidays, while Professor Fig was testing his abilities. “It certainly seems as if it could come in hand- well, be useful.”

“Indeed. And more frequently than one might expect, or imagine.” Professor Ronen grinned. “Now, Professor Weasley mentioned, I am not the only one who will be teaching you spells outside of your classes, in an effort to catch you up with your peers. A number of your professors have agreed to do so as well.”

He suspected that there had been a teacher meeting about this.

“But first, each will ask that you first complete a few preliminary tasks, so as to hone your magic.”

He wondered what they all had planned. “Might I ask why?”

“No lesson or lecture can compare to first-hand experience with the magic itself, and these tasks should provide you with just that. Such experience is invaluable when mastering any new bit of magic.” Professor Ronen grinned. “I have arranged a couple for today. See them through, and then report back to me here. We will have you casting Reparo in no time!”

He pulled one of the parchment cranes that were floating above him, unfolding it from the shape. “Your tasks.” He held the sheet.

He took it, not sure what to expect. “I’ll start on the task right away, Professor.”

“Good. And remember your Field Guide. It might be useful.” A quick wink, before Ronen set the cranes in motion again.

Opening his Field Guide, he stuck the bit of parchment inside, the short list appearing, complete with a mini map. Two spots were coloured purple. One was right in front of him, just past the benches.

 The other, right in the centre of the Defence tower.

He decided to first grab the one by the statue and then head into the defence tower.

Entering, he noticed it was a nice alcove, overlooking water. This is the right area, he thought looking around. I wonder where the flying page is…

He looked around, craning his neck as he saw the briefest glances of the page he was looking for. At least twice he spotted it, but reacted just a little too slow, his spellwork glancing off the ceiling or the statue to the far left of his position.

The flapping page seemed to taunt him. So, he refocused his attention. Third time’s the charm, after all… “Accio!”

“Got it!” he cheered, largely to himself, as it was returned to his Field Guide. One down, one to go. He glanced over at the statue to his left. There was something about it… so of course he had to investigate it.

He noticed a feather stamped in the middle of the base. Maybe… if he tried Levioso… “Levioso!” he aimed the charm at the sphere, which caused the statue to turn into a field guide page… or part of one, at least… It appeared to be a fragment on the inventor of Levioso and his life.

He stuck in his field guide, before turning his attention back to Professor Ronen’s task.

Entering the Defence tower, he looked around. A flying page must be around here somewhere… he wondered, taking in the high ceilings and artwork that decorated the area. A fluttering of paper caught his ear, and he headed up, pausing at an intersection of stairs.

He readied his wand, looking around for the sheet in question. The music from somewhere in the tower wasn’t helping him much.

It took another few tries, the first two glancing blows with nearby columns, before he managed to nab it, a few feet from his face.

Both pages gathered, he made his way back to Professor Ronen.

“Ah, there you are!” Professor Ronen greeted. “I trust the preliminary tasks weren’t too much trouble?”

He shook his head. “No, professor.”

“Marvellous,” Ronen grinned. “You clearly know your way around basic charms, so let’s give the old mending charm a try, then. Shall we? Wand out!”

He pulled the borrowed wand out, eager to learn this particular one. Kendal had been driving him spare, practicing it constantly over the course of this past summer.

“Now, remember to be deliberate in your enunciation and your movements – I want to see some vigour!” Professor Ronen held out his own wand. “Follow my wrist movement.”

He followed Professor Ronen’s swirling movement, before copying it the best he could.

“That’s it! Very good, Mr. Northrup. You are indeed a quick learner.” Professor Ronen seemed delighted at his quick uptake. “Now, if you would like to practice mending something, have a go at the statue in the alcove by the water.” He pointed towards the area where he found one of the pages.

“It allegedly symbolised heartbreak, so perhaps a jilted lover thought it too accurate and lashed out, destroying it.” Professor Ronen had a contemplative expression on his face, which seemed unusual. “That will be all for now. Enjoy your time in Hogsmeade.”

He nodded. “Of course. Thank you, professor.”

Returning to the alcove, he took in its surroundings. It was peaceful, even with the jarring lump of rock that was supposed to be a statue.

“Reparo!” he called out, feeling a rush of magic around him. Little bits of stone seemed to return to the building around him, but nothing happened with the former statue.

He tried several more times, each basically going the same way, and even throwing a Revelio in for good measure. But nothing happened. For all he knew, he’d fixed several cracks and breaks in the process.

But not that statue. He couldn’t even find the remaining pieces. Part of him suspected that they’d been thrown in this part of the lake.

He decided to try again later, maybe after eating something. Little did he know what was about to happen.

Heading back into Central Hall, he figured he’d kill some time before he heard from Natty. Reaching the central fountain, he spotted a Hufflepuff studying an interesting frame that didn’t seem to have a picture in it.

“Erm... hello?” he greeted cautiously. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m…”

He was bluntly interrupted by a very familiar figure, also wearing Hufflepuff robes and a look of utter shock. “Cyrus!? Is that you!?” she asked, before sprinting up the steps and throwing herself at him in a massive, rib cracking hug. “Oh my gods, you’re alright!”

“Hello Kendal,” he gasped. She hugged him again, before loosening her grasp and facing the other Hufflepuff.

“Lenora, my brother Cyrus. Cyrus, Lenora Everleigh.” She introduced them, and he politely shook hands.

“It’s nice to meet you, Lenora.”

“You as well. Pardon me if I seem a little distracted at the moment, but it’s this painting. Most everyone in the common room thinks I’m utterly barmy. Samantha Dale thinks I’m potty,” she scowled, gesturing towards the painting. “But I’ve never noticed this painting before now!”

Kendal seemed just as curious, before glancing at him. “Hmm… Neither have I…”

Lenora continued. “If I know Hogwarts, and I do, an empty frame just doesn’t appear without a reason. There has to be more to this.”

“Are there other empty paintings like this around the school?” he asked, his curiosity growing.

Lenora nodded. “Yes, a few. To be honest, this place is something of a riddle. I think, if I can work out the riddle of this particular one, I’ll know how to work out all the others. As good a place as any to begin.”

He and Kendal shared another look. “I noticed you studying one near the common room this morning,” Kendal noted, picking up his trail. “Have you picked up any new insights since then?”

Lenora nodded, clearly more at ease with his sister. “I did. Lumos has an effect of some kind, but I’m not sure what I need to do next.”

A stray thought crossed his mind and snorted. Perhaps a way to practice Lumos…? It wasn’t out of the question. “I’ll certainly look into it, Lenora. It could be intriguing.”

Kendal gave him a funny look, which he ignored. He’d try and explain it to her later.

Lenora sighed. “Well, I’ve been wracking my brains long enough. Maybe you’ll have better success than I have, I hope. Do come and find me if you find anything.”

He nodded, before Lenora headed off. Kendal’s expression grew annoyed. “Cyrus, what exactly is going on?”

He fidgeted with the strap of his bookbag, before pulling her over by the stairs and pulling out the field guide. “Professor Weasley gave this to me this morning,” he started, holding the book up to his sister. “I think that the portrait is meant to help me with Lumos.”

She looked at him as if he’d grown three heads and a tail. “How -?”

He shrugged. “I’m… I’m not entirely sure. But for some reason, I’m stuck in fifth year and I’m having to catch up on things I might have missed at Ilvermorny. Y’know, between all the fights and detentions.”

Kendal’s expression turned to disbelief, leaning back against the stone wall, clearly fighting her laughter. “Oh, wow. That’s – that’s insane, Cyrus.”

He nodded in agreement. “I might have also stumbled onto some answers to what caused this whole mess in the first place. Maybe. So don’t breathe a word of it.”

She nodded, miming buttoning her lips, clearly shocked. He hoped she’d keep that promise.

They headed back over to the blank portrait, and he tried Lumos. Which revealed a location, and one he kind of recognised. Kendal gasped, before tugging on his sleeve.

“This way…” she muttered, before tugging him back the way he’d come in. He followed her, Accio’ing another of the pages as they crossed back. He even managed to read a little bit, something about Godric’s Hollow.

Kendal darted down the stairs, before hurrying off to the left. He followed as close as possible, still getting used to the large castle. In-between the stairs and rather large statue, sat a jewelled moth, languidly flapping its wings.

“Lumos,” he muttered. His wand tip flared, and the moth darted to it, fluttering around the bright light. They stared it for a moment, clearly awed. “Back to the portrait then.”

It felt a little like when they were younger, following each other around the farm.

Reaching the portrait frame, he noticed the indentation on the front, just the right size for the moth currently circling his wand. He froze. How was he to turn it off?

“Nox,” Kendal said, extinguishing the light, and allowing the moth to settle into the indent. In a whirl of tinier moths, the portrait vanished, leaving behind a field guide page. It looked to be about whomever invented Lumos, or possibly a history on it.

Kendal looked at her watch and cursed. “Oh damn, I’m almost late for Transfiguration. Sorry, Cyrus. I’ve got to go. See you at dinner?”

Before he could reply, she hurried off. “Just tell Professor Weasley you were talking with me!” he shouted after her, before sighing.

He wandered back over to where they’d found the moth and looked around. A quick cast of Revelio revealed another field guide page and a Floo Flame point, marked for potions. He glanced at his field guide, unsure of where to go next.

There was the duelling club… or talking to Lenora, if only to let her know what they’d found.

Might as well. She wasn’t too far from his current position. Hurrying up the stairs, he spotted her overlooking Central Hall, reading a book.

“Lenora! I solved the painting!” he enthused, approaching her. She startled, turning to face him.

“You did?! How?”

“I followed the clues you mentioned, using Lumos. Kendal knew the location the portrait was showing, and we found a jewelled moth that I used Lumos to guide back to the frame.”

Lenora sighed. “All very logical, I suppose. It’s a pity - I was so close to solving it.” She pouted a moment, before resolving her composure. “You, and Kendal it seems, have a knack for solving riddles. Natty’s good at it too, so is Amit. Though he does tend to overexplain.”

She gave a tight grin. “Well, I’m glad someone’s figured it out at least. Here,” she held out a shrunken bit of fabric. “You might appreciate having this.”

He took it, not entirely sure what it was. “Erm, thank you?”

“You’re welcome,” she replied genuinely. “See you around, Cyrus.” Lenora walked off, muttering, “The moth! Of course, I should’ve seen that…”

He stuffed the fabric in his bag, unsure of what to do with it. He grabbed another field guide page, long range and set the map for the duelling club.

It was a dizzying path through the castle. Up one way, down another. He found the staircase leading up to the Ravenclaw common room, along with the adjacent floo point.

He summoned a page fluttering around the main staircase, before passing the stairs that led to the Gryffindor common room. He even travelled through a corridor filled with portraits of musicians, all playing their instruments.

It had something of a medieval festival feel to it and he stopped to soak it all in.

Entering the clock tower, another Floo Flame lit up and he spotted Sebastian, leaning against the wrought iron, nearby.

“Glad you could make it,” Sebastian grinned. “Lucan’s just over there.” The Slytherin gestured, almost lazily, towards the area behind him.

He nodded, acknowledging the words, his focus more on the familiar statue in front of him. “Levioso,” he muttered, revealing another field guide page, this time a whole one. Sticking it into his field guide, he entered the clocktower proper.

Looking around, there were a handful of students just hanging out, in between classes, or on their free period.

Which made the appearance of the youngest person there all the more interesting.

“Can I help you?” the younger student asked, as he approached, clearly not recognising him.

“Are you Lucan Brattleby?” he asked.

“I am. And you are-?”

“Cyrus Northrup. Sebastian told me to see you about a club…?”

Lucan’s face cleared at that. “If Sebastian vouches for you, that’s all I need to know,” he noted happily. “I’m the one who coordinates the duels for Crossed Wands. It’s a duelling club, of sorts. It’s also invitation only, so you must have really impressed Sebastian, one way or another.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I guess I’m flattered to hear that. Sebastian’s not a bad duellist either.”

Lucan seemed impressed. “Imagine it’s quite something to see the two of you duel. Heard from Hecat about your duel in her class.”

Explained a lot. Eyebrow still raised, he asked, “How… does Crossed Wands work, exactly?”

“You show up,” Lucan explained, “I match with other duellists and whoever is still standing in the end, wins.” A shrug of shoulders. “It’s our way of determining the school’s greatest duellists, once and for all.”

Sounded straightforward enough, and not unlike the duelling club at Ilvermorny, before he’d switched to Quodpot.

Lucan wasn’t entirely finished. “And, to liven things up, the winner is awarded a prize. Interested?”

It was certainly intriguing. “Certainly. Duelling can be an entertaining pastime.” He felt like he was lying a little through his teeth, but it could be useful, for the practice.

“I agree,” Lucan’s enthusiasm grew. “Besides, you can duel with a partner in Crossed Wands, if you like. I’ll pair you with Sebastian for your first time. Next time, you’ll need to bring a partner or duel alone.”

“Good to know,” he noted, filing that away. “Thank you, Lucan.”

“Anytime. So, care to step into the ring for the first time?”

He nodded. “Get me in.”

“All right!” Lucan cheered, as bouncy as the toy ball he’d been playing with. “You and Sebastian will be to the right of the pendulum. Let the fireworks begin!”

He headed over to the area Lucan had indicated, setting his bag off to the side, along with his school robe. Sebastian joined him, as two other students approached. One, the Gryffindor, looked no older than Lucan; and the Ravenclaw seemed about his age.

“Astoria Crickett and Lawrence Davies” Sebastian muttered under his breath as introduction. Astoria seemed to have a particularly nasty expression on her face.

“We’ll make you regret it,” she snarled, and he regarded her coolly. No need to rise…

Both Astoria and Lawrence raised shield charms, both tinged with the yellowish hue he’d seen earlier.

Sebastian decided to use a different spell. “Confringo!” he shouted, leaving a divot in the flagstone. He managed to dodge the worst of the debris, before firing his own spell into the fray.

The spells flew thick and fast, him mainly running defence, deflecting several Expulsos and even a rogue Confringo. Somehow, he managed to get through largely unscathed, maybe the odd bruise.

Lucan came over, grinning widely. “Nice work!” he congratulated. “Sebastian wasn’t wrong about you.”

“Thank you again, Lucan.”

“There’s strong competition ahead, but keep this up, and who knows? You could be the next school champion.”

“There is that. You can certainly count me in.”

“I shall.” Lucan’s grin threatened to split his face in half, before becoming somewhat serious. “Now, it does take time to organise these duels, but check with me in a few days. I may have something lined up for you then.”

He nodded in understanding. It probably took quite a bit of effort to stay ahead of the teachers.

“Again, congratulations on your first Crossed Wands victory,” Lucan finished, as the bells tolled above them. “Well-fought. Hope to see you back here.”

He gathered his bag, and found a message from Natty in his Field Guide.

Out of class, and I received Professor Weasley’s message. Ready to go to Hogsmeade? – N.

He grinned at the message. Now, all he had to do was find her.

Exiting the clock tower, he passed Lawrence Davies, nose in one defence textbook or another. “Just wait till I’ve grown a bit,” came the younger Gryffindor. “Then we’ll see how well you do.”

He entered the castle, still not entirely sure where to go. Casting a quick Revelio, he found two more pages, before deciding to explore the castle a little more.

It wasn’t helped by a mounting feeling of anxiety about the trip to Hogsmeade, for a reason he couldn’t explain, even if he wanted an explanation.

Dodging Peeves coming out of the nearby bathroom, he went through an unfamiliar corridor to try and avoid the mischievous poltergeist, before he too was caught up in the chaotic whirlwind. All he wanted was to see Hogsmeade and get what he was missing.

Ending up back in the Defence tower again, he pulled out the field guide, not sure if he was heading in right direction. The mini map had reappeared, pointing him back towards Central Hall.

Entering, it seemed he needed to dodge most of the student body as he crossed, as it seemed busier than before. The map pointed him to an area past the entrance to the Greenhouses, which seemed far quieter.

He stuffed his field guide into his bag, as he entered the Bell Tower area, and spotted Natty waiting near the doors. Hurrying down the stairs, he then spotted Eleanor waiting there as well.

She waved, clearly ready for an adventure.

“Looking for me?” Natty teased, as he approached, and he grinned.

“It’s good to see you, Natty. Eleanor. I hope I haven’t kept you waiting too long.”

Natty shook her head. “Not at all. I take it will be okay if Eleanor joins us in Hogsmeade? She mentioned wanting to join us.”

“I don’t have a problem with her joining us.”

“Good,” Eleanor grinned. “I wasn’t planning on asking twice.”

“You must be eager to have your things again,” Natty noted, breaking the moment. “And to be able to see the village.”

He nodded. “I certainly am. I’ve been looking forward to it.”

Natty shared a look with Eleanor, who seemed troubled. “Shall we set off? I believe we both intend to give you a first-rate Hogsmeade experience.”

He gestured forward. “We shall. After you.”

Chapter 7

[insomniaink95]

Discussions of Death Note usage often turn into something akin to the old question of, "Would you kill baby hitler?" but due to the rules of the Death Note I think it requires more nuance.

What the Death Note could be used for wasn't explored fully in the story due to Light's own fascistic worldview being the basis on how HE used it, but it wasn't JUST a tool to be used for killing. Killing was mandatory in its usage but it could have effects other than just the person's death. Remember, the user of the death note could specify the nature of the death in question including what actions the victim would take prior to their death, so long as it wouldn't be out of character for them. The Death Note could be used as a way to potentially have the target divulge secret information to the public and could be used in many other useful ways that would depend on the specific target.

I think its interesting to think about how that whole, "so long as their behavior wouldn't be out of the ordinary for them" isn't as restrictive as one would think. Consider; the target is a powerful person who has visited death and suffering upon countless others with impunity. The specifics of their death are written into the Death Note in a very granular way. Say they are compelled to eat at a certain restaurant one day and you decide to be there at that time having a meal with an open bag or purse hanging off the side of your chair. They decide to sit at a table next to the one you're sitting at. They get their meal and begin eating but a thought is suddenly brought to their mind that they need to check their email (a power player like this is sure to be expecting an important email at almost any time). So they unlock their phone and log into their mail client, absentmindedly taking a bit too big of a bite of whatever they've been eating. They begin to choke, their arm swinging back and the phone dropping out of their hand into your open bag. They then bang on the table with their fist, a detail you wrote in to let you know when to grab your bag and leave. As you exit, things play out to their obvious end with the individual, but you now possess their unlocked phone and access to their email which may contain extremely useful information that can be used to bring others to justice in a non-lethal way, to assist those that were/are victims of the now deceased individual, or to put pressure upon the deceased individual's fellows so that they are less able to continue the predation that the individual would have if they were still alive.

Alternatively, consider the powerful person in question is due for a live interview on a major corporate news outlet and you decide to write certain details about that interview into the Death Note that will lead up to their untimely demise. Lets say that as they sit down for the interview they have a minor stroke that they are not aware of nor does it show outwardly for anyone else to notice. It DOES however result in emotional and behavioral changes including increased impulsiveness and apathy. The result, as written in the Death Note, is that during the interview they are honest and forthcoming with the information they provide for answers, going so far as to continue giving accurate and truthful explanations for each question even if the questioner tries to change the subject. After the interview has been completed they trip over their own two feet as they're leaving the set, due to their decreased coordination from the stroke, and their head slams into the ground hard resulting in a fatal injury.

I also think that if the Death Note type of item in question had certain limits on it, such as only being able to be used once a year, or even once EVER, a lot more people would be willing to use it.

The supernatural cosmology of the Death Note universe is not true; the amoral wizard is just a big fan who happened to make his magical killing device function like a Death Note.

[leagueofleaguesff]

Seattle Seahawks

Geno and the Seahawks were the "out of nowhere" team with a chip on thier shoulders. Geno became a top 15 QB with Russell Wilson exit. Pete Carroll has the same motto...run the ball down your throat and pop off on occasional down field play. The defense is a middle of the road but not pushover unit. The question on this team is 1. Can they build or match the success they had last year? 2. RB wise, is the rookie Charbonnet gonna be a thing once the inevitable Kenneth Walker injury comes around. Answering number 1, Lockett & DK still are low end WR 2 options. The issue is how consistent. For number 2, Ken Walker is already dealing with nagging injuries (go figure). The one absolutely constant in a sea of variables is Pete Caroll WILL run the ball heavy and often. By the way, the Hawks can still factor in this division with 49ers a clear 1st but the wildcard potential is intriguing.

Washington Commanders

Gotta update this logo. The commanders draft Howell. The defense you would think should have taken strides forward but as a whole, Chase Young and company have been largely average. TE Logan Thomas is back from injury and McLaurin is dealing with a toe issue. Unfortunately for him, if it's turf toe - it will effect him all season long. Jahan Dotson is the sneaky play on this offense but remember a rookie is at the helm. A plus is Eric Beinemy is a more than competent offensive coordinator that should get some juice out of this vanilla offense. Defensive head coach Ron Rivera now has a prodigy at the helm of scoring points. Results may come but slowly depending if Howell is the answer at QB.

Jacksonville Jaguars

Trevor Lawrence and the crew now have Calvin Ridley. A true number 1 WR to build upon a Cinderella type season with Kirk serving as #1. Kirk should still be considered but Calvin will eat trust. Etienne is the guy. Though Tank Bisby may have more of share as the season progresses. I anticipate Jags to be a playoff team despite the defense plateau. Doug Pederson should have this team rolling. Evan at TE and Zay Jones as WR3 on this team will be the roster depth you will count on once injuries and bye weeks come into play.

Tampa Bay Buccaneers

The Bucs have fell into obscurity but don't tell them that. Brady retired is a void but the team, as a whole, is largely intact. Godwin and Evans as a WR duo are still viable. Issue will be Bakers consistency play or lack thereof. May-Bay has more options than he has ever had in two tiered WRs at his disposal. What he can do with it is up to him. Cade Otton is the clear #1 TE and Rashaad White has his chance to prove if he deserves a starting role at RB. Todd Bowles has this defense coming back to prominence- just need them healthy to keep the ship in route. Godwin is more of a route WR that Baker is accustomed to but with Evans jump ball ability (in the redzone or sideline) can be utilized if Baker can hone in. Bucs could be in the thick of the NFC South race IF they build upon thier week 1 victory.

Philadelphia Eagles

Eagles should be the class of the NFC given how weak it is as a conference compared to the swath in AFC. Besides 49ers and Eagles, there aren't much more true contenders for the Superbowl (unless Lions show out). The defense even added players smh. The addition of Swift didn't show in week 1 but as of this writing the beginning of Week 2 blew that out the water in his hometown debut for the team. Penny wasn't a factor. Gainwell injury won't matter as much because of their depth. AJ Brown is the alpha but Devonte may squash that narrative. His week 2 explosion is threatening AJs alpha status. Goedert is finally on the board after a week 1 goose egg. Slow and steady he goes. Elliot missed a kick which is rare but still a decent option at Kicker. It will take a few weeks for this team dynamics to show its hand on the RB front. Cowboys may come for the division but Philly is looking beyond because even at a wildcard, Hurts and crew will win despite thier own errors.

San Francisco 49ers

Another superbowl pick on the NFC side, they never admitted their draft mistake In Trey Lance, but thier backing of Mr Irrelevant Brock Purdy is similar a Tom Brady come up. He is backed 💯 Kittle ✔️ Aiyuk ✔️ Deebo ✔️ CMC ✔️ Defense ✔️ Head coach ✔️ Kicker (Moody)✔️ The whole dam team ✅️

Minnesota Vikings

Cousins again is pouring 🫗 points .... probably as the biggest bench warmer in shallow league ls who decided not to play him. Even in losing efforts, Kirk is throwing massive yards and TDs. The vikings D is gonna go thru growing pains as Flores implements his scheme in his coordinator debut for the. Thus, the offense will have pressure to win games. Cook out to the Jets left Mattison in play as the lead. He lead nowhere unfortunately. He is a flex play at best. Jefferson is gonna feast as he usually does. Addison is the great pick up for whoever has him. The rookie paired with Jefferson may be one of the few duos that could both be number ones on their team fantasy wise. Hockenson is garnering even more so in terms of looks. The passing game is where it's at cuz of the air yards distribution. I wouldn't bet on them for division. I put more stock in Jordan love and such because of coaching even with Vikes having better talent offensively. That's because Packers at least have Defense in the back pocket.

Green Bay Packers

Speaking of Packers. The Defense I alluded to in the Vikings recap is what separates then in the division. Only the Lions have a shot to outmatch. An era is gone now A Rod out of town. Love like Rodgers and Farve before him sat behind the starter to learn. Can GB make it a trifecta? Aaron Jones killed as per usual but is on the injury block. AJ Dillon is is I guess for week 2. Cobb and Lazard left leaving Doubs & Watson. That would be okay but Watson may be dealing with an injury that might plague him a good chuck of the season. Rookie TE Luke and a new kicker are pieces we have to see will work out (no more Crosby...was there so long). Expect LaFleur having this team in thick of things.

Kansas City Chiefs

It's the Chiefs. The only concern is Sky Moore, Toney and Rache and what thier roles are in this offense after Kelce. Pacheco is an afterthought but still the lead. Hey it's something. Mahomes should get his and now with Chris Jones signing back with the team, the defense can be viable as a bye week add. Butker if anything is a choice for kicker as well given the teams offensive output. Will they defend thier Lombardi?

Denver Broncos

Hackett out and HOF Sean Payton is in. Can he fix Russell? Can the injuries stop piling up? Will Juedy live up to expectations? Is Sutton a real deal or a sham? Will the defense come to form against offensive powerhouses in thier division? Is Trautman going to overtake the TE position with Greg D out? Loads of questions 🤔 This is a wait n see team.

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