#he doesn’t need fixing and he certainly doesn’t need to kill less

[jasontoddenthusiastt]

Batman: Battle for the Cowl (2009)

He is beautiful and correct. And his muzzle is a .…. repurposed cheese grater.

He’s perfect

[katsu28]

hiii request for jamie tartt here🫡 i loved ur recent fic sm!!! could you maybe do the acacia flower or sunflower prompt? in my head i see hiding their relationship bc reader is a teammates sibling, but oopsie someone got heart eyes and started rambling haha

or literally anything else is fine too if this doesn’t strike your fancy lol<3 tysm!!!

hello!! i loved this so much, u are a gem for requesting it <3

acacia: a hidden relationship + sunflower: drunken rambling about their adoration, jamie tartt x kent!reader (no physical descriptors so imagine whatever sibling type u want!), 2k

“Are you sure we can’t tell him about us?” Jamie’s voice from where he was fixing his hair in the mirror pulled you away from your book and you glanced over at him. 

This was a question he posed to you all the time, and every single time, your answer was the same—though getting more creative with the details with every occurance. 

“Do you want my brother to gouge your eyeballs out? Cut off your dick? Possibly murder you?” 

Jamie paled, freezing in place. “Not particularly.” 

“Then no, we can’t tell Roy we’re seeing each other.” You picked up your book again, ready to resume your reading, but Jamie let out a noise resembling that of a kicked puppy’s whine. His shoulders slumped and he trudged over to you, throwing himself down on the bed in front of your crossed legs. 

Setting your book aside for good this time, you watched him make himself comfortable with his head in your lap, cheek pressed against your thigh as he looked up at you with the puppy dog eyes to match his previous whine. 

“I hate all the secrets. I have to lie to him, straight to his scary face, every fuckin’ day. D’you know how stressful that is? How stressed I am?” He huffed. You bumped your knuckles against his chin affectionately.

It wasn’t fair, Jamie having to face Roy and lie everyday when you had to do it a tad less often, but it was a necessary evil. One day, you’d tell your brother, but first you had to figure out how. 

This, among other reasons, were the downsides to being in a secret relationship with Jamie. There were tons of upsides too, no doubt about it. 

You had the privilege of seeing a softer, sweeter side of him that was reserved only for you, but you couldn’t go out in public with him. Nights in were your favorite dates, but sometimes you wanted to go to a fancy restaurant and eat expensive food and share a dessert with your boyfriend without needing to worry about the tabloids having a field day of it all. 

You could already see the headlines if the press ever caught wind of your relationship—AFC Ricmond Star Jamie Tartt Bags Manager Roy Kent’s Sister. They’d stir shit up, claim that Jamie was only with you because your brother was in a position of power over him and who knows what else. 

Most of all, you certainly couldn’t let Roy find out you were seeing one of his players, especially not Jamie fucking Tartt. They were friends now, but he’d always been overly protective of his sisters ever since you were all kids. He’d throw a fit and probably kill Jamie, then you. Well, he probably wouldn’t go that far, but you’d definitely be on his bad side until he got over himself. And you loved your brother to death, but he was a dickhead sometimes. 

“I’m gonna get early wrinkles, love. You don’t want me to have those, do ya?” 

“I think you’d look adorable with wrinkles. Like a cute little old man.” You dotted a kiss to his forehead, attempting to smooth out the crinkle between his eyebrows with your thumb. 

“That’s not funny.” 

“It’s a bit funny.” 

“Right, since you obviously don’t appreciate my problems, I’m off.” Jamie heaved himself off the bed, forcing out a rather overexaggerated sigh. You smiled innocently at him and he rolled his eyes, his own soft smile still on his face. He leaned down to press a kiss to your lips before heading for the door. “Dunno when I’ll be back but don’t wait up for me, yeah?” 

“Have fun, my love. I’ll just be here, thinking about you with wrinkles.” 

“Still not funny!” 

The Greyhounds were out in full swing tonight. Colin had somehow managed to book an entire pub for a whole night so they could drink and have a good time without being swarmed by the press vying for any morsel of gossip about one of the best up and coming Premier League clubs. Good friends, good food, even better beer—what more could anyone ask for? 

Jamie had been taking full advantage of it. That, paired with the fact that he no longer had to follow that god awful diet that deprived him of his beloved ice cold beverage, had led him to where he was right now, leaning heavily against the bar, drunk off his ass due to some sort of drinking game Jan Maas had insisted on teaching him. 

See, tipsy Jamie was fun. Very generous, would offer to buy a round or two, good for a few funny stories the next day. Absolutely pissed Jamie was a textbook oversharer. He didn’t make much sense, so everyone just mumbled a ‘very cool, mate!’ or something of the sort, made sure he didn’t topple over—those kinds of things. 

Roy was nursing his own beer next to Jamie tonight, half-listening in contained amusement as the Mancunian babbled on and on about someone. Who the fuck it was, Roy had no idea, but it was good entertainment and had soon garnered the attention of the rest of the team. Maybe this could be another one of those funny stories they could joke about in the locker room tomorrow. 

“She don’t look anythin’ like you, thank god. Imagine—imagine that! A lady Roy. Shit’s mad!” Jamie mused, amber beer spilling over the lip of the pint. “Nah, she’s the prettiest and the funniest and the coolest person ever and I love her.” 

“Who the fuck are you talkin ‘bout, bruv?” Isaac asked incredulously, looking just as amused as everyone else.

“Mate, I’m talkin’ ‘bout me girlfriend,” Jamie said very as-a-matter-of-factly, like they should’ve known that. “Duh.” 

“You’ve got a girlfriend? Since fucking when?” 

Jamie counted off on his fingers, scrunching his nose in thought. “Erm…four, five months? Maybe six?” He shook his head quickly, correcting himself. “No, not six. Would’ve done something special for six, wouldn’t I?” 

“First I’m hearing of it. How ‘bout you boys, did you know Jamie had a girlfriend?” Isaac asked, looking around. A chorus of ‘no’s and similar answers sounded amongst the others. Jamie’s brow furrowed. “It’s settled then. Who’s got the heart of the great Jamie Tartt?” 

“Good rhyme, boyo!” Colin chimed in, clapping his best friend on the back. 

Isaac looked proud of himself. “Whoa. I’m a fucking poet and I didn’t even know it.” He accepted another few praises before turning his attention back to Jamie, who looked like he was thinking really long and hard about something. “Okay, back to you. Tell us about her.” 

“I don’t even know where t’start, man,” Jamie sighed happily, resting his chin in his palm. “She’s kind and warm and—and she knows me better than anyone. It’s like…it’s like she’s an angel.” 

It was kind of weird, hearing Jamie be so open about his feelings for another person. He’d always been one to play things close to the vest, so that’s how they knew things with this secret girlfriend had to be serious. 

Sam beamed, happy as ever that his friend had found someone special. “Surely the angel from above has a name? Maybe one of us knows her?”

“Y/N.” 

The room fell silent. Everyone turned to look at Roy, who looked like he was about to start punching dicks. 

“Y/N, like…Roy’s sister, that Y/N?” Sam replied hesitantly, drawing pointed looks from every single one of his teammates. “I’m just confirming! There are other people named Y/N in London, you know.” 

Jamie pointed in his teammate’s general direction, nodding aimlessly. “Yep, her. That’s my girl.” 

Roy stood from his seat without a word, grabbing Jamie under the arm and dragging him towards the door. 

“Hey man, what the fuck are you—” 

“Just fucking shut up, will you?” 

“Okay.” 

You were about to call it quits on finishing your book and turn in for the night when the doorbell rang. When you went to open it, you definitely weren’t expecting to see your brother standing on your doorstep, practically carrying your half asleep boyfriend and looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. 

“Your prick boyfriend got proper pissed. Where do I put him?” 

So Roy knew. And judging by the way Jamie was swaying on his feet, you guessed that he’d been the one to let the cat out of the bag. 

“Erm, couch is fine. I’ll get him settled later.” You opened the door a little wider to let them in and Roy grunted his acknowledgement, hauling Jamie over to the couch and promptly dumping him onto the cushions.

Jamie didn’t even flinch when his face hit the pillows, instead just letting out a dreamy sort of sigh and smacking his lips together without even opening his eyes. You were the one to roll him over onto his side, nudging the dustbin right near his head before covering him with a blanket. 

“How much did he drink?” You asked, smoothing the walnut mist strands away from his eyes. 

“Too fucking much, that’s how much.” Roy grumbled. He wandered over towards a different area of your flat, not wanting to wake Jamie. “Jan Maas taught him a Dutch drinking game, except that fucker can actually hold his alcohol.” 

You cast a fond glance back at your boyfriend, smiling softly at his peaceful face. “Yeah, this one can’t really drink much anymore. Said it’s because of your training regimen, the no beer thing.” 

“Of fucking course you’d know.” 

“I assume Jamie told you about us.” You said quietly, picking at a loose thread on the sleeve of your jumper instead of looking at Roy. Another vague low noise of acknowledgement from him, though it sounded a bit more strained this time. “If it helps you come to terms, Jamie’s been wanting to tell you for ages. I was the one who wanted to keep it under wraps.” 

“Why?” 

You let out a humorless chuckle, shaking your head. “‘Cause I knew what you’d think. Knew what you’d have to say about it.” 

“Are you a mindreader?” 

“No.” 

“Then how would you know what I’d think?” 

“Oh come on, Roy, you don’t think I know how you are? You get…dickish. I still remember you scaring off poor Billy Montgomery in year nine!” 

“Billy Montgomery was a fucking wanker, that’s why.” 

“Yeah, I know that now,” You huffed, scowling. Roy raised an expectant brow at you. “You’ve always been outspoken about the people I date. I just—I didn’t want you to be that way with Jamie. I know you’ve had your differences, and I know you’ve made up, but…I dunno, I was just worried about what you’d think of us.” 

“Do you love him?” Roy asked stiffly. There was a tic going in the hard line of his jaw when he forced his gaze to yours, and it almost looked like he was in the middle of shitting a brick. If you hadn’t been so nervous about his reaction, you probably would’ve laughed. 

“I do. A lot, actually. He’s…everything I could’ve asked for. Everything I’ve ever wanted in a partner.” 

“Then it shouldn’t fucking matter what I think.” Roy said. “Jamie makes you happy, and that is the only thing that matters.” 

To say you were taken aback was an understatement. You’d been so worried about how you thought your brother was going to react to the news, you never stopped to consider that maybe Jamie wasn’t the only person who’d been working to change for the better. 

“Thank you, Roy.” 

Caught up in your heartfelt sibling talk, neither of you had noticed Jamie had woken up and stumbled over to the two of you until he gathered the two of you into a rather squished hug.

“My two favorite people, the Kent siblings! You guys are the best!” He slurred, nuzzling into the embrace. Roy let out a growl, but he patted Jamie’s back stiffly nonetheless. You had to stifle another laugh at how utterly uncomfortable he looked right now. “Oh fuck, I think I’m gonna throw up—” 

“That’s it, I’m fucking leaving.” Roy shoved Jamie away from him, wiping his hands off on the front of his jacket and heading for the front door. “Make sure he doesn’t choke on his own vomit and tell him he’s still got training tomorrow, I don’t care how shitty he feels!”

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[mikakuna]

Hey! This is the music anon again! I was wondering if you had any jayroy fic recs? Or, given your latest post lol, only child Jay fic recs (or even JUST Jay and dick as Bruce’s kids fic recs) and if not that, then, an au where Jason didn’t pick up the mantle/was convinced not too, and is living his civilian life. I’ve read rara Avis by zoeleo already lol, Idk if you read that one?

omg hey!! i have a few fic recs for what you'd like to see but honestly i'm lacking a bit in jayroy! i'll link the ones that i rlly enjoyed tho <3 and alsooo the only-child jason fics are all set during his childhood sadly, so i don't have any where he's an adult and still bruce's only child :(

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

https://archiveofourown.org/works/48627046/chapters/122658637

When Batman rescues a twelve-year-old boy from a sex-trafficking ring, he ultimately makes the decision to look after him for a few days, feeling responsible for his current condition. Revealing his identity to the boy is the logical next step. Building trust was important, and Bruce needed Jason to trust him. There’s one slight problem with Bruce’s plan. Due to the effects of the Joker Venom, Jason doesn’t remember anything about meeting Batman, let alone Bruce Wayne. In Jason’s eyes, he’s been trafficked. And the man who brought him is none other than Bruce himself.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29237001/chapters/71790027

Jason’s background as a victim of abuse and childhood homelessness means it’s hard for him to trust, and to ask for things. After only a couple months in the manor, he still isn’t sure about Bruce Wayne.

https://archiveofourown.org/series/575182

When Bruce brings a new child home to the manor, Dick has a few choice words for Bruce about making him Robin. Convinced that Jason needs a stable loving family more than he needs a crime-fighting outlet, Bruce, Dick, and Alfred take on the challenge of bringing Jason up as civilian while still keeping their caped careers a secret.

Or: Bruce Wayne is a Good Dad, Dick Grayson is a Great Brother, Alfred is the Best Grandpa, and Jason is smol. Tooth-rotting fluff ahoy. (i'm linking this even though you read it for people who haven't yet! also i never read the ones with tim in it but those are a lot later in the series so don't worry, it's still jason and bruce centric)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26730145/chapters/65210116

Jason Todd was kidnapped at nine-years-old and given two options. Work for his keep, or be forced to to work for his keep.

His life was not pleasant, but Jason was nothing if not a fighter, and dammit if was he going to let the hell around him kill who he was as a person. Or his dreams of growing up and going to college.

Those dreams suddenly came a little more into focus, when his idiot of a pimp accidentally tried to rent him to Bruce Wayne. Poor bastard could have never guessed he was the Batman himself. Heck, not even Jason figured that out, at first. And Batman had practically adopted him. (i loved this so much)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/49876537

Jason doesn't die at the hands of the Joker. There are a couple of things he and Bruce might need to work through.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/55020211

“You will fix this,” Alfred corrects him. “You will fix this, and let Master Jason know that you don’t care about his sexual orientation, that it changes nothing. That you were mistaken in what you said to him. That you certainly didn’t mean to imply that you thought any less of him for his choice in reading.”

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22637476/chapters/54102781

Batman makes it in time to save Robin from the bomb. He doesn't make it in time to save Jason from the Joker.

Or Batman is too late in every universe, but Bruce Wayne doesn't have to be.

+ jayroy:

https://archiveofourown.org/series/1328723

i've linked this one in a previous rec list but basically, this is an au series where jason escapes an abusive relationship and meets roy!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30004014

It was just dinner with family. A family large enough to be an independent militia, but that was all. Nothing serious.

Lian disagreed. (one of my fav crack fics!!)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/52945642

a fic where the bats find out, one by one, that jason and roy are dating!

i really don't have much for jayroy since i'm pretty picky when it comes to jason fics and ship fics in general, but i'll reblog this if i find any others that i enjoy! in the meantime, hopefully these are some new fics for you to read!!

[evangelineshifts]

ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: Someone New - Hozier

2:15 ──────ㅇ───────── 3:42

↻      ◁ II ▷     ↺

Name ➻ Amaryllis Belladonna Meadows

Age ➻ 13

Zodiac ➻ Taurus

Year ➻ 1st

House ➻ Hufflepuff

S/O(s) ➻ James, Lily, Remus, and Sirius (Polycule)

Backstory synopsis ➻

There were once three sisters from ancient greek times, before 100 AD. They lived when the Gods still roamed the earth, during the Golden age. Their names were Damaris, Arelis, and Aurelia. They were named the trifectas, the most powerful witches of the age.

Damaris was the oldest of the 3. She was strong and confident in her magical abilities. She was a natural born leader, the people who lived in her village and surrounding all looked to her for guidance and advice when problems arose.

Arelis was a true and mighty hero. The people would always go to her for help when anything happened. She became the leader of the brigade of hunters for the villages at just 11 years old due to her natural stealthy, agility and precision. Battle was ingrained in her bloodstream, destined to become a warrior.

Lastly, Aurelia, meaning the golden one. She certainly lived up to her name. She was the village favorite. While she didn’t quite have the sense of mature responsibility that her sister possessed or the thirst for the hunt like the other that doesn’t mean she was any less powerful. She was a creator, an artist, a healer and more. Aurelia was a free spirit, she would dance with the village kids till her feet grew sore and would dote on the elderly despite their complaints of not needing the care (they secretly loved it). The villagers were fond of the girl but they also knew just how much power was resting in her veins. Aurelia seemed to have been blessed by every god there was, the girl was a force to be reckoned with. A healer, a protector, and fighter.

Around 90 AD, a man who went by the name of Herpo came to town after hearing about the trio of amazing talents. Immediately the triplets were on edge. They could sense the man’s energy, the aura of darkness that surrounded him. They let him be as to worry the other villagers but they soon realized their mistake when trouble arose. Muggles and their children were going missing only later to be found dead in the forest. People were going mad, cursing and hexing their peers without reason. The triplets worked tirelessly to fix the problem as their people were becoming restless and scared. Damaris set a protection and battle plan and had her sister lead the unit. Aurelia was going around the towns calming and healing the people. Filling their minds with bright thoughts to help them rest.

One night as Aurelia was doing her rounds she came across a familiar shadow, she followed it only to find that it was Herpo with a group of men. He was speaking about how soon her and her siblings would be too overwhelmed with the fights and insane for them to notice one person more person being killed, then a spell would be complete. What spell she didn’t know but she alerted her siblings of the man’s plans anyways.

The siblings were now keeping a keen eye on Herpo wherever he would appear. In a whirlwind of events, the triplets find out the man was working with dark magic, a spell to take a human soul to preserve his own. To become everlasting. So the sisters came together to stop him. The Gods also learned of the man’s affairs and became angry at the abuse of power, especially Hecate, Goddess of witchcraft. Angry that her blessings were being misused she sought aid from the Gods to assist the triplets granting them powers to help them in the inevitable war.

Damaris was now truly blessed by Athena, granted incredible reflexes, intelligence like no other, and battle strategy and knowledge. She was a true ruler.

Arelis had the blessing of Ares, strength of a thousand soldiers and weapon intelligence and thirst for war. The girl seemed to always be encompassed by a ring of fire, her eyes alight with a hunger for battle. she would lead the force.

The Gods granted Aurelia the most, not just for her attributes but for her pure heart. Her senses now enhanced to that of a wolf. She could move things by pure force of will and crawl into the crevices of the mind with a stare, picking out your deepest thoughts and controlling your actions. She was able to make her thought her reality, what she imagined is what was. She could pass through solid surfaces as if she was the wind whistling by. She was one with the earth finally able to be reunited with her true self, the earth mother brushed her cheek and sent her off to war. A golden glow was her cover, her hair white as snow, eyes as blue as the sky that was soon to be shrouded by the smoke of her blazing fury. She was the warrior that would bring them victory, if not for herself, for her people.

Together, they defeated wicked villain, who would now and forever be label as ���Herpo the Foul’ for the atrocities he brought to the land. They lost much but saved most, victorious were the Trifectas, forever shall they reign.

And reign they did. The people took upon themselves to elect the three as their own personal monarchy, to rule over them with grace as they always have. The three were the heroes of the age and went on to fight many more battles until their deaths in 140 AD. The Gods decided because of their bravery and choice to fight for their honor, they would allow them to be reborn. Their souls to enter another when the time was opportune. They would live on as heroes in another era to continue their rule.

And in a pristine hospital room on the night of April 18th, 1980, they were born anew in the vessels of Dorcas, Alexandria, and Amaryllis Meadows.

A/N - can you tell I love a good resurrection trope 😭 as always questions and feedback is always welcome ☺️

[faccal]

WIP Wednesday (It's Saturday)

I was tagged by the wonderful @simonxriley thanks so much dude!

I always suck at tagging people, but I know this can be for writing and art, so I'll try to tag a few others. @samithemunchkin @tokillamockingbird427 @alidravana and anyone else who wants to join in on the fun!

I've been going back and forth with different WIPs, so I'll do the one that I actually worked on today.

Merrick’s in his office filing paperwork when he gets back, fingers clicking away on a laptop he’d been given. His graying brows are furrowed and surrounded by deep wrinkles, the man having seemed to age much quicker in the last year or so. 

“Hey Merrick.” Hesh knocks lightly against the open door, a flat smile on his face while he waits for his captain to look up. 

“What’s going on, kid?” His eyes flick up for a brief moment, a faint spark barely crossing his eyes for a second before it's gone and he’s looking back at his paperwork. 

“I uh, there’s not much to do. I wanted to see if you needed my help.” He takes a seat in the chair across from him. He quite likes the place they’ve been staying in, it’s got a lot of older furniture, but much of it is quite comfortable and cozy. It often reminds him of their old places they’d stay at. Safehouses full of outdated furniture among other things. He lets out a sigh, rubbing his hands back and forth on the fabric of the armrests. His grandparents had chairs like these in their lounge. 

“I’m all set, Hesh.” He answers, short and curt. Always cold. Hesh knows Merrick doesn’t mean to be cold, he’s usually warmer with his men when he can be. “I’m just finishing up my half of this, Price will finish his when he gets back.” Another brief glance. “Are you alright?” 

“I’m good.” He answers, which is a half-truth. Logan had been doing much better; less nightmares, fewer violent outbursts. He’s finally willingly letting nurses take blood samples, among all the other things they need from him. Constant checks, constant evals. It never ends. Hesh would give anything to snatch his little brother and take him far, far away from here. It wouldn’t have to be back home, there’s nothing left and that’s the first place anyone would look. Soap’s warm smile crosses his mind, a soft skip in his heartbeat catches his breath. Maybe they could all run away together. 

It wouldn’t solve their problems, and none of them were runners. Soap still wanted to lead his team, and Hesh was more than ready for another promotion. Certainly, he’d earned the privilege of being a Captain. Granted, the idea of leading the Ghosts not only excited him but left him with doubts. Rorke had led them, his father, and now Merrick. The Ghosts seemed to have a hard time keeping captains and soldiers alike. They’d all been through so much, both before and after ODIN. Both before and after Torch, Grim, Ajax and his father were killed. It was a heavy burden to lead the Ghosts, and Hesh was beginning to wonder if he still wanted that. 

Pulling himself from his thoughts, he jumps a bit when his eyes land on Merrick’s stern ones, boring into his face. 

“Thought I lost you for a second there.” He states, eyes flicking around Hesh’s face. “Go get some rest kid, you need it.” 

“I don’t-” He tries to argue, shutting up when Merrick gives him that look., the same look his father used to give him when he’d try to argue. “Yes sir.” He answers with a sigh, pulling himself from the chair and leaving without looking back. He probably had that look on his face still, and he didn’t want to see his father in Merrick’s eyes. 

Sorry for any weird spacing, I didn't feel like fixing it, I'm terrible at website Tumblr.

[galaxymagitech]

Don’t know if anyone still cares about spoilers for this, but…

SPOILERS FOR TEEN TITANS (2003)

So I finished TT03 season 2. And cried. I was NOT expecting a teenager to die. When Terra defeated Robin, I thought “this can only end in a last-minute heroic sacrifice.” But it still took me by surprise that she was actually just gone. They make her a gravestone and she never comes back as Terra. It was shocking.

I tend to see most characters in the most sympathetic way possible, and that applies to Terra too. She did terrible things and she knows it. She made really bad, perhaps irredeemable, mistakes. But she also didn’t deserve the way her story went. Doing bad things and experiencing bad things don’t cancel each other out. Being hurt doesn’t justify hurting people, although you can certainly experience empathy for someone like that. But also—just because someone, especially a 15/16-year-old teenager, hurts people doesn’t mean it isn’t sad when they get hurt too.

Looking back on Terra’s story, I don’t know what the Teen Titans could have done differently. Fixing one mistake would’ve just delayed the inevitable. Slade was cunning enough to manipulate Terra and unlike Robin she didn’t have an established support system—Slade got to her before she could build one and undermined all her successive efforts. Terra says she’s looking for control, but I don’t think she’s right about herself. If she wanted control then she would’ve left Slade as soon as she got control over her powers. I think she was looking for safety and she considered herself a threat. She wanted to feel protected and secure, after so long on her own, and Slade offered her the opportunity to take the storm inside of her and channel it outwards. He offered her a place she didn’t have to fight him for, and Terra had never had that before. The Teen Titans couldn’t give her what she needed—and neither would Slade, but you can see why she thought he would. And Terra keeps repeating that she’s in control, that she wants this, as if trying to convince herself, and it was honestly horrifying to me.

I don’t want to take away Terra’s agency here. She was manipulated, but she still chose to betray the Titans. She isn’t a good person. But I don’t think she’s a bad person either. It’s not a dichotomy, it’s a sliding scale. She was just a person and she was trying but it wasn’t enough.

And Terra was a kid. She was a teenager who was lost and confused and scared and made the choices that seemed best to her in the moment. She changed her mind again and again. She gave up the best thing she ever had. In another world, she could’ve been happy. She could’ve even been “good,” maybe not in the profoundly heroic person at heart way, but in the “doing good things” way. If Terra hadn’t had out of control superpowers, if Slade hadn’t noticed her, Terra wouldn’t have turned “bad.” If she’d gotten a normal life, she wouldn’t have been “bad.” Terra was just as deserving of a good life as a normal person.

So I found myself with literal tears in my eyes over an animated TV show, because it just sucked so much that Terra’s story ended up like this and this was way darker and more horrifying than I expected.

Some of this goes for the comics character too. I think she’s genuinely a bad person in the comics, and a lot less sympathetic. But also—without getting into the specifics—her life really sucked. She did bad things and bad things happened to her. Deathstroke manipulated her, and although it was clear that she’d kill people/be evil on her own, the way her story went was really sad. And of course she’s still responsible for her own evil actions, but…any time you’ve got a teenager whose life is like that, whose mind is so messed up that killing people seems like a good idea, it doesn’t matter where the blame is assigned—it’s a tragedy.

I can’t help but have sympathy for Terra, in both forms. Because no matter how awful she was or how many cruel things she did, she was a kid and her story was sad.

(Me: Terra is a kid! 15 or 16 years old! A kid!!

Also Me: I’m…practically an adult.)

[girasollake]

IMAGINE while the gang are out doing their bit and Eddie is still hiding out, the reader has to keep him company and make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid. She takes like board games and stuff to pass the time and hopefully make it a little less awkward. BASICALLY IDK HOW BUT THEY END UP FUCKING 😭😭😭😭

unexpected | e.m.

pairing: eddie munson x afab!fem!reader

type: smut

warnings: sex 18+, minors DNI, swear words, pullout method, cum on body?, pussy eating, hair pulling, neck holding?(not choking), guys idk what more..

summary: in the ask:]

a/n: i have been writing it for like two past hours, i am so terrified of watching the new episodes when i wake up cause rn its 1 am and i wanna go to sleep, if they kill eddie or steve im suing... anyway i hope you'll like this piece anon<3 (also i feel like i suck at writing smut)

word count: about 2k

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It was a windy afternoon. (Y/n) was sitting on her bed reading a stupid book her dad had made her read. Branches of a tree outside were softly hitting her bedroom window, the wind was making weird sounds. She turned over and tossed her book on the floor. With a sigh she got up and made her way downstairs. She didn’t want to interrupt her father who was working so she went to the kitchen. She was a bit tired from the morning events where she had to help her friends so she definitely needed a cup of coffee at that moment. While she was making the drink the doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it dad!” She yelled, voice directed towards the office.

She opened the door and saw Robin, the rest of her friends sitting in a car parked in the street. Robin was grinning and fumbling with her hands.

“What is it this time?” (Y/n) threw her head back and sighed.

“I just have a tiny, really tiny, little favour to ask you.” Robin bit her lip. “Can you watch Eddie tonight and like keep him company? We have some really important stuff to do and we need someone to… you know… make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.”

(Y/n) massaged her temples with her fingers, eyes closed. An annoyed groan escaped her lips but after all she agreed.

“Just wait a minute, I’ll go grab some games and tell my dad that I’ll sleep at your place.”

Robin was patiently waiting in the car with the others when the door opened and slammed just as fast.

“Thank yo-“ Steve started saying.

“Shut up and drive Harrington before I change my mind.”

All she wanted was a peaceful evening, maybe a warm bath. All of the latest events were getting into her head and she needed something to take her mind off of them, that something certainly wasn’t Eddie. She didn’t know him at all except for the fact he was quite weird, at least that’s what she had gathered from the 30 minutes she had spent with him. Maybe getting to know him more wouldn’t be that bad?

She took her bag and swung it over her shoulder. She slammed the door of Steve’s car again and started walking towards the boathouse.

“We’ll be back in 5 hours!” Robin screamed through the unrolled window.

“WHAT!? WHAT DO YOU MEAN 5 HOURS?!” (Y/n) turned around, anger written on her face.

“Or more!” She waved her hand at the furious girl while Steve was driving away.

(Y/n) groaned and adjusted her bag. She knocked on the door and opened it slowly.

“Eddie? It’s (Y/n). I’m here to babysit you.” She whispered while entering the boathouse.

He was sitting with his back pressed to the wooden wall, gaze fixed on the lake.

“I don’t need a babysitter.” He muttered.

“I know, but the others would disagree.” She came closer and took a seat next to him. “I have some board games to pass the time.”

Eddie finally looked at her, she had looked the same in the morning but now her smile looked more authentic, there was softness in her eyes. He put his beer aside and shifted in his seat.

“Okay, show me what you’ve got.” He smirked and nodded towards her bag.

(Y/n) couldn’t deny, she started feeling a bit tense. It wasn’t because she was scared, it’s because she started noticing his best features. The fact that she was left with this man alone was also doing the job. She observed him while he was looking through her games. His brows furrowed, mouth slightly agape, veiny hands caressing the boxes.

Were those rings there before?

“This one should be good, I played it once or twice.” He handed her the box. “You want to make a bet?” He added, his body softly leant towards her, enough for her to notice.

“Um, what kind of bet?” She tucked a strand of her behind her ear.

“If I win, you give me a kiss.”

“Pshh, hell no Munson.” She rolled her eyes.

“Come on, what do you have to lose?” He tilted his head.

Right, what do I have to lose?

“Yeah, ok, I’ll do it. But if I win, you will lent me some of your Metallica records when you get out of this shitty situation.”

“You like Metallica?”

“I like many things you wouldn’t think I like.” She winked. “So deal?”

“Deal.”

They shook hands and started playing the game. Two hours of constant mocking, bickering and swearing passed and now they were waiting for the moment of truth. Eddie shook the dice in his hands and threw it on the board.

“I WON! HOLY SHIT!” He screamed, his arms flying to the air. Then his eyes met (Y/n)’s. “You know what that means, (L/n)”

She gulped and felt her body going even more tense than before.  Just his presence was enough and now a kiss?

It’s just a kiss.

It’s just a kiss from a hot metalhead, you can do it.

She tried to reassure herself while Eddie sat next to her. His hand came up to hold her cheek and he slowly turned her head to face him. His cold rings were like ice to her heated face. Eddie leaned in and their lips collided in a soft, warm kiss. His hand went into her hair gripping it gently. The kiss was short, they pulled apart and (Y/n)’s eyes looked straight into his, she didn’t waste a second to connect their lips again. This time it was messier and harder, filled with passion. She sat up and then quickly swung one of her legs over Eddie so that she would sit on him.

“It was supposed to be one kiss.” He said while he tried to catch his breath.

“I can stop if you want to.” She whispered, her lips softly sucking on his neck.

“Fuck no.”

He switched their positions so that she would be underneath him. That place wasn’t the cleanest but neither of them cared at that moment. Eddie’s lips were attacking her jaw and neck where he left two small hickeys. (Y/n) cupped his face with her hands and made him look at her.

“Touch me Eddie.”

He lowered his head to kiss her again and just before they kissed he whispered the words “As you wish”. One of his hands lifted her shirt, his fingers caressing her delicate body. There was this feeling again, his cold rings against her warm skin were making her shiver. She moaned into the kiss, Eddie’s desire growing stronger. He took off her shirt and started kissing everything on his way, he then placed his hand on one of her breasts squeezing it lightly. He then took it out of the cup and started circling his tongue on her nipple, the other boob being massaged with his other hand. (Y/n) threw her head back, her body arching into his. He used her movement to his advantage, his hands sneaking onto her  back and quickly unclasping her bra. He threw it somewhere next to them and then took off his own shirt. They were both staring at each other, it was getting dark but the sunset was still present and it gave them all the light that was needed. He was in awe of her messed up hair, soft breaths coming from swollen lips and her breasts moving with each of those breaths. She was in awe of his softly sculpted body, tattoos adoring his skin and his face features which were so unique and well-matched. Her fingers started dancing on the tattoos, slowly tracing their outlines.

“You like them?” He asked her.

She nodded softly and smiled.

“I just didn’t expect you had so many.” She looked up at him. “They’re hot.”

“I know they are.” He gave her a smug smile and kissed her.

He grinded into her and groaned into the kiss. (Y/n) softly scratched his back and deepened the kiss at the same time. Eddie’s hand cupped her boob again, his finger gently flicking her nipple. Then she was the one grinding into him, pressing her hips into his more and more.

“Are you sure?” He whispered.

“Shut up and fuck me Munson.” She arched her back again and pulled him towards her.

Eddie didn’t waste a second to take off her jeans and panties, but before he did what he was asked to he wanted to do one more thing. He lowered his head and trailed kisses from her neck down to her thighs. His fingers slightly tickling her lower belly and hip bones. He placed a soft kiss on her clit earning a moan from her. He held her hips tightly and started flicking his tongue occasionally licking all over. She was shaking, hands gripping his hair, her orgasm approaching rather quickly but Eddie stopped right before it hit her.

“I want you to cum when I’m inside you.” He said and pressed their lips together.

He threw his pants and underwear to the side and lined himself up with her entrance. He lowered his body and connected their lips again. She felt his tip slide inside her, it was uncomfortable at first but when she felt all of him it was amazing. They both gasped at the feeling and Eddie started slowly moving his hips.

“Faster.” She managed to say between the moans.

Eddie did what she said, his body loudly slamming against hers. He changed the position and threw her legs onto his shoulders which sent (Y/n) over the edge. She came without a warning, her walls squeezing Eddie’s penis and enhancing his pleasure.

“Fuck Eddie, fuck, fuck, fuck!!” She screamed while digging her nails into his arms.

Eddie helped her through her orgasm and then pulled out. She whimpered at the loss of contact thinking he was also finished but she was so wrong. He held her up and turned her around so that she was on all fours and pressed her head down. He waited a couple seconds and then shoved himself inside of her, she screamed and desperately tried to hold onto something but with no luck. She closed her hands into fists and moaned with each of his thrusts.

“You like being fucked like that?” He asked and went even faster.

She didn’t answer him, her vision going blurry from the pleasure. Eddie noticed that and pulled her up by the hair.

“I asked you a question.”

“Yes..uhm..fuck.”

She gasped at the new sensation of her hair being pulled, she had never felt so much pleasure during sex. She didn’t know how much more she could take but this feeling of him filling her up was the only important thing, she didn’t want to lose it. Eddie let go of her hair and placed his hand on her throat pulling her towards him. They were both on their knees, Eddie fucking her from behind, her whole body pressed into his. His other hand started massaging her sensitive spot on her pussy. Next thing she knew she was cumming again. She threw her head back onto his shoulder, his hot breath hitting her cheek. After her orgasm he helped her get on all fours again and pulled out quickly, she collapsed on the floor and felt something warm on her back. Eddie groaned and sighed.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

“Mhm..” She mumbled still trying to catch her breath.

Eddie stood up and dressed himself into his clothes scattered on the floor, he then took a towel which was a bit old and dirty and used it to wipe off the cum from (Y/n)’s back. He threw it somewhere under the table and helped her sit up. After helping her dress up he took a blanket Dustin had brought him and covered them both with it.

“Was I too rough?”

“No Eddie, you were perfect.” She kissed him on the cheek and then nuzzled her head into his chest.

Just before she fell asleep she thought of the plans she had had before she had come to spend time with him. Maybe she was wrong? Maybe Eddie was that something to take her mind off of things?

taglist: @r93339 @stvrdustalexx @cursedandromedablack @ccosmic-illusion @luvwanda @justice4lils @heizenka @wolfstarsimpxx @madokas-heart @screambih @lyntic @freeshavocadoooo @laracrof7s @naturalswifty89 @bvmbshell @alainabooks143 @squidwardsluverxx @phantomxoxo @insomniac-nerd-posts-things @stilesks @ilovedilfs32 @kaitlin-r130 @greengarsstuff @axen-gers @088i880 @ilovefictionalbrunettes

[caramel-catss]

quick novelization of the 3 days left scene with basil and sunny in grandma's room. i wrote this because... i saw another one, got annoyed, and decided to do it myself. oops. anyway bpd!basil rights

word count: 1k

tw: suicidal thoughts

He’s in Grandma’s room, isn’t he?

Basil tries to open the door gently, but it always makes the loudest screech and no one’s ever fixed it. He cringes internally as his presence is announced. Realistically, Grandma is deaf to the world and she won’t realize Basil is beside her… but that thought is worse.

Looking up, he sees that Grandma isn’t alone. Basil’s intuition was right - in front of the egret orchid stands Sunny. The stiffness of Sunny’s stance is akin to a statue; he’s just as well gone as Grandma is.

Sunny makes no acknowledgment of Basil’s entrance. Regardless, anxiety trickles up Basil’s twitching fingers, and he finds himself stuttering out a greeting.

“Oh, Sunny… I didn’t expect to see you in here… Haha…”

Basil bites his lip. Of course Sunny would be in here. He had circled Basil for five minutes, staring at every piece of the living room, searching for reality. When he couldn’t find it there, where else would he go? 

Basil had listened to the doors open and close while he stood on the carpet, lost. He’d realized what Sunny was doing before long. Basil has known this feeling before. He’s performed the same dance, stumbling around his house, desperately trying to catch onto something, anything that will ground him, anything that will clear the fog-

“H-How are you doing, Sunny?” Basil blurts. “Is everything okay with you?”

Sunny turns to Basil, stares at him blankly. Unresponsive. Blind. Basil’s finger taps faster, faster on his leg. Why are you looking at me like that? Are you mad at me?

“...Okay.” Basil’s brow sets. His mouth curls into a frown. Even him? Sunny won’t even recognize him? “N-Nevermind, then.”

Something inside Basil needs to scream. Something inside Basil yearns to weep. Basil does neither. He matches Sunny’s eyes, almost threatening him to say something, anything. What is logical thinking with a glare like that? How could Sunny, even as untethered from reality as he is, look at Basil like this if he doesn’t hate him?

Sunny’s chest rises and falls. The movement is so small that it almost looks as if he isn’t breathing. Basil feels like he can’t breathe, either.

The room is so, so quiet.

Basil forces himself to walk before his feet become his hands and the floor becomes his face. Something drips through the walls. Teeth gleam at Basil, hungry. Basil threatens them with a broken photo album and Polly’s garden salad.

Across the sludge lies Grandma. Something wraps around Basil’s ankle and nearly trips him. He chooses to stop moving. He stares straight at Grandma’s bed, unwilling to see how far Something has covered Sunny.

“Grandma can’t hear us, you know?” Basil’s speech is hollow. Grandma may never hear him again, certainly won’t ever reply. Less than a month. That was what the doctors said. Less than a month before the cancer completely overwhelms her. Can he tell Sunny how long she has? No, that’s more of a reason to hate Basil. “She hasn’t been feeling very well lately.”

Basil tears his eyes away from Grandma. She’s just making him feel worse, too. Everything makes him feel worse. The photo album burns in his arms.

“It’s already been four years, hasn’t it?” I never expected to live this long. I won’t live much longer. I don’t think you will, either. Sometimes I wish we were both already dead.

His glance shifts to Sunny, he can’t help it. Why aren’t you dead already? Do you plan for it, like I am? Is that why you’re here? Will you clean her grave, too, apologize to her? Or are you just here to tell me how much you hate me before we both kill ourselves? “It’s nice to see you’re still around… even if it’s only for a little while.”

…Will Sunny forgive him if he proves how much he cares?

There’s only one reason why he wanted the photo album back, anyway. 

With agonizing steps, Basil approaches his friend. He tries not to throw up. Basil can’t be near Sunny without feeling blood dripping through his fingers and Something choking his neck. He shoves out the photo album. Just take it. Please, take it. Please, please, forgive me.

“Here. Take my photo album… I want you to have it.” But if Sunny’s killing himself, too, or if he still hates Basil after this, won’t Basil’s gift mean nothing? “...I’m trusting you with it, okay?” Basil tries to meet Sunny in the eyes, get his silent plea across. Sunny’s irises are vacant. “I just think… you could use it more than me.”

Sunny cracks the book open. Finally, his face flutters with the smallest sliver of recognition. Basil wishes that he was already dead. His mouth is dry.

He tries to sound chipper as he says, “A lot has happened since these pictures were taken.” Sunny flips through the photos. Basil’s pathetic attempt at optimism drops. “...Sometimes, it feels like it was all a bad dream.”

It’d be better if they never met. It’d be better if Basil was just dead already.

Sunny shuts the album with a soft thump, and his vision catches Basil’s. Does he, does he forgive Basil? Do you hate me? Don’t you hate me? Could you please just fucking tell me!?

“It’s hard to remember now, but…” Maybe if he explains himself… “I think… at the time.. I took photos of what I was most afraid to lose.” Why is he doing this? Why does he open these wounds larger, when he already knows Sunny will never stop hating him? “Flipping through this album, you can still see the good times… Maybe one day… things can go back to the way they were before.”

Once he’s gone, they’ll all be happy. If nothing else, he hopes Sunny will forgive him then. He hopes Sunny will appreciate Basil’s sacrifice enough to excuse everything else.

Basil continues to stare at Sunny. Do you understand? Do you understand what I’m going to do for everyone?

And Sunny stares, and it’s agonizing. He hates this, he hates this so much. Something is blocking out his face. Something makes the world turn to eyes and jet-black ink. Please, just understand. Please-

Kel calls them both for dinner. Basil practically sprints away, tearing himself from Something’s grasp. His head pounds. He feels as though he’s bleeding, about to pass out, but only one of those is true. So, Basil forces himself into the hardwood chair, and he waits.

Soon. Soon, he’ll do what’s needed for everyone to be happy.

Soon, everything will be okay.

[contest-winning-pest]

Musharana Malice. A nightmare that's not yours. It's pretty obvious whose it is, though.

You find yourself in a familiar cave. Though it is most certainly a natural cave, its full of unnatural things. Mining equipment is everywhere, extending deeper into the cave which itself becomes increasingly less natural as it goes on. A few miners are also in the cavern.

You’re nestled in a little alcove near the roof of the cave, clinging onto stalactites tightly to avoid falling and making your presence known (you, cocky eight year old that you are, have no doubt that if you fall you’ll be able to land on your feet). Directly below you is a piece of machinery. You’re unsure what it does but you hate it with a passion.

Now, as for the reason you’re here, its right in front of you. Your sister, Aster, adorned in her Lorekeeper cape, talking to a silver-blue haired pretty boy in a fancy suit. You don’t know his name and you don’t care. He’s a lot younger than you expected him to be but that doesn’t matter. He’s part of Devon Corp and that makes him scum.

Your main objective is to protect Aster. Though the two in front of you were ostensibly here to work out an agreement and hopefully convince Devon Corp to completely halt mining operations in Meteor Falls. However, you’re convinced that this pretty boy in a suit has nefarious plans for your sister. That he’s going to kill her and convince everyone else it was an accident. 

They talk for a bit and seem to be getting along? That made no sense. This guy was evil. But he and Aster were chatting like old friends even though they’d barely known each other for five minutes. 

Suddenly, your foot slips. A rock is jogged loose and falls. After what feels like an eternity, the rock finally lands… on the mining machine below, which begins to emit steam. Uh oh.

Quickly as possible, you scramble away from your hiding spot, leaping from stalactite to stalactite to get away from the machine without being seen.

Everyone else in the cave has also noticed the machine steaming. Aster reacts first.

“Everybody out!” She shouts.

She and the pretty boy work together, making sure all the miners make it out quickly and safely. This is agonizing for you. Why does Aster have to be so kind and caring. She should just forget about the miners and get out. 

No, no. She wouldn't want you to think like that. But you just want to see her safe. So why are you just sitting there watching. Why can't you make yourself move.

Finally, the last miner is out. And that's when the machine explodes. You can feel the heat on your face but are just far enough to avoid any burns.

Aster and the man run. You hold your breath. They're almost out when part of the ceiling breaks loose and falls. It's about to hit the man but Aster pushes him out of the way and is hit instead. Unexpectedly, he stops to try to help her, but she waved him away, telling him to just run. He does as she says, making it out just as rocks come down and block the cave entrance.

Finally, you unfreeze. Tears filling your eyes, you scramble down to the floor and sprint over to where Aster lies under the rubble.

“Aster!” You cry. “Aster, I’m so sorry!”

She coughs weakly. “It's okay, it's okay, it's not your fault.” 

You scrabble at the rubble, trying uselessly to dig Aster out. “I can- I can fix this! I can get you out!”

“No, you can't.” Aster says soothingly, sounding resigned to her fate. “This is the end for me.”

“No!” You shout. “No! This isn’t the end! This can't be! I-I can't lose you!”

“Shhh.” Aster shhh’s. “It's going to be alright. You still have grandma. She'll take care of you.”

“But-”

“Be strong.” Aster says. “A Lorekeeper needs to be strong.”

“But I'm not-” 

“You are now.” Aster says. “Zinnia of Meteor Village, I bestow upon you the title of Lorekeeper.”

“No no no no no.” You repeat.

Aster smiles. “I know you'll do great. I've known this day was coming for a long time.” She coughs. “I just didn't think it would come so soon.”

“No!”

“Promise me one thing.” Aster says. “Don't blame him.”

And with that, she lay still. You break down completely, sobbing until a rescue party finally comes.

"... The border between Dream and Waking is getting more tenuous." She knew that couldn't be her Zinnia. Their Asters were too different.

And she'd gotten dreams of Zinnia, before, as well-- When Courtney had sent her after Kerry, she'd gotten a brief sending of that moment, far away.

Was... There someone in bed with her?

Ah. Just. Angel. That was fine, then.

"Why do I have the sneaking suspicion that fixing that is going to be my job?"

"Because you are very used to being abandoned."

"Why do I ask these things when my therapist is in the room."

[amusedmuralist]

Emotional Grounding

@lorata this is for you. It is longer and more ramble than I’d thought it would be, but it does unmistakably include Eibhlin getting Gloria with a taser in defence of her Claudius Esteem Project.

There were so many places in this district that seemed to Eibhlin to be indiscernibly different; if she was to live in this district, she wanted to learn to perceive these differences herself, or at least hazard a guess at them. They’d started at a transport hub, a depot presently under repair, and took the engineer 's advice as to where they might find places in need of help now the worst was on its way to being fixed. Eibhlin took mental notes, as the advice seemed widely applicable. Quarry towns– poorer towns with tradespeople– were used to making do, had people who could do wonders with resources now shared across many districts rather than syphoned to the capital. Transit had been prioritised to get people the supplies and tools and people they needed so the central hubs were mostly under wraps by now. Now it was time to broaden their scope, make sure fresh eyes who hadn’t grown accustomed to the broken glass and missing stairs, could report such issues before people moved in.

Claudius said there was a distinction to be made between this part of the district and that where the victor village was located. “It's just different.”

“I hope you understand that isn't a distinction with a difference to those outside the immediate frame of reference. But if that is all you can provide, then that is sufficient.”

“It's like,” Claudius’s brow furrowed, “I'm not saying it's the same. But you could compare it to the difference between…” He trailed off again. He looked down, taking his time to put his feelings into something more concrete and generalisable.

“It's the difference between District One socialites and the ones from the Capitol,” He said. “Anyone who went through the program, or the academy for them I guess, has something to prove and they killed people. It doesn’t matter how well they hid it and passed the screen and interview training. The Capitol definitely was definitely responsible for deaths, but they never held the knife and saw the blood. You can't say that about district one. They've got more to prove, if they want to be the rich people on TV even for a moment.”

Eibhlin blinked rapidly, taking that information in and trying to contextualise it with the prefabricated houses that she had begun to notice. More facsimiles of each other than bearing any resemblance to those where Claudius and Brutus and Lyme all lived.

“Houses, more than homes.” She summarised.

Claudius shoved his hands into his pockets. “I guess? If that’s a distinction with a difference.”

Eiblhin nodded, gently knocking her elbow against Claudius’s, before they set off together. It incensed her, that Claudius could have been so dismissed that he believed himself stupid. He’d picked up concepts and aphorism metaphor like any Career tribute might pick up an unfamiliar blade: deliberate, thorough, and landing on his feet.

Here in this affluent but not wealthy area, there had clearly been looting. It was not so bad as in the Capitol, or in the districts where Tesserae hadn’t been a safe bet. Unless Eibhlin was mistaken, there was a more targeted approach to it, too. There were windows missing panes, trellises made to serve as ladders, and breaking under the strain, certainly, but there was far less damage for damage’s sake, no charred rose bushes nor beheaded topiary.

“It’s mostly salvageable,” Claudius agreed when she brought it up.

“In that case, we can likely focus on the cellars, the gardens, and those initial homes that extensions were tethered to, for repair, and the rest for salvage.” Eibhlin had taken notes when the engineers spoke.

Claudius nodded. “Yeah, and to the south east of here, there was that development with the asbestos recall order. I don’t think we should go out that way, not without masks.” Clearly, notebook or no, Claudius had been paying attention.

“I’ll suggest that to the engineers, we do not have any with us, and honestly, District two might not have any at this stage. Maybe we could requisition a team and personal protection equipment from Five?”

Claudius nodded. “Eight, too, with all the chemicals in dyes they probably know about that kind of thing.”

Eiblhin nodded, taking note and cementing it on her to-do list. “With that in mind, we should plan for for 4 or so hours, and head back, to make the train while having covered the most ground in thorough detail.”

The day was beautiful. The crispness of the autumn air was beautiful, and the deciduous trees that lined the street had started to stir in the breeze, depositing leaves across what had once been diligently kept lawns. Those lawns were less helpful than the fruit trees and herb gardens of other places on the route. Eiblhin kept careful notes, marking them on the digital map the engineers had loaned them. Claudius was better at identifying the plants: his Career days had ensured he knew the more esoteric imports that flourished in the manicured gardens, and something else—perhaps the company of Emory?—ensured he knew the utility of local herbs and weeds for food and medicine.

Every now and then, Claudius would check in with her, and she’d add his observations to the data. It meant they could cover more ground, taking opposing sides of the streets and staying close to call for confirmation. It also meant Eiblhin noticed when Claudius seemed to know what was coming up, where to find fruit trees and older, more welcoming homes. She wasn’t sure that he noticed it himself.

They’d come to stand together under the shade of an old eucalypt, not very old, likely transplanted for swiftgrowing shade in this newer allotment of homes. Claudius pointed out what could be a nest, or perhaps a fallen branch, and Eiblhin was debating internally whether it was better to leave it and wait for the return, or climb up.

A shrill voice cut through the quiet afternoon.

“Are you from the peacekeepers?” It demanded.

Eibhlin whirled around. She didn't mean to reach for her taser. But it was in her hand before she thought about it. Claudius for once was stiffer than she was, his feet coming comfortably into a more steady stance. Eiblhin was sure it was a measure of trust, that he didn’t whip around immediately, allowing her to have his back.

“No such thing anymore.” He said it as though his voice was quiet. It wasn’t, though, pitched to carry across naturalistically.

“Nonsense!” The woman the voice came from was taller than average, To Eiblhin, though likely short by district two's inflated standard. Her nose was pinched tight, her nostrils flaring. Her hair was twisted up in tarnished pins, a style Eibhlin remembered her stylist using for her in the interviews before the Quell. She sounded like she had been born complaining and she didn't intend to stop now. “You–”

Claudius wasn’t stiff, anymore. He turned on his heel, smooth and combat ready. Whatever complaint initially begun deflated as this woman took in Claudius’s face. “You!”

Claudius laughed. It wasn’t like the happy, sudden sounds Eiblhin associated with quiet afternoons, the rabbits, and melodic tunes. This was raucous, wild and unpolished.

“Me.” He confirmed. “I guess neither of us know how to die, huh?”

The woman’s eyes narrowed, her shoulders and lips and fists tightening too. “If you're here to gawk, I wouldn't bother. Are you here to make things worse? I wouldn’t doubt it. Selfish boy.” Her voice arced like a live wire. Eibhlin’s hands tightened too.

Claudius’s laughter stopped dead. “Are you still after a house? Pretty sure now’s a worse time. So many traumatised now. Even if there was space for you, I doubt you’d make it through the night.”

Eiblhin saw the flash in this woman’s eyes. Had she sought a village domicile? People could be hard to read, and that seemed absurd.

“I heard the village was bombed and newcomers— well. I didn't hear that you survived. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. You are as callous as ever.”

Eiblhin had heard enough. Her taser was still in her hand.

“Like mother, like s—“

Eibhlin lashed out, thrice for good measure.

Later, Claudius will tell her that she reminded him of Adessa, and Eiblin will wonder if that's what she and Betee have in common, that surgical precision in violence, that cold-hearted catharsis, that lets them not only live with Two, but make a home there. But those are thoughts for people who are not clinically deciding exactly when to ground their charge, so whoever this is will live, and there won't be a trial in which Claudius and this woman are entwined again.

Eibhlin didn’t think about anything else until the threat was neutralised, non-lethal.

“Let’s go.” Claudius said quietly.

Eibhlin looked up at him, and he never touched her without asking, and she was relatively sure the same rules would apply to him, should he be reliving any moment connected to the woman still twitching in the street.

“Yes.” She said, walking with him, keeping up with his ground eating stride.

[sig-nifier]

21, 23

21 - a piece of my writing that i liked, but had to cut

i actually don't keep drafts of my writing, so i normally only have the finished product. (i also never edit fics, what i post is usually the first draft and i'll reread it once, fix any mistakes and go eh good enough) having said that, i do still have a line from make you feel alive that i never included

"John believes that if you're most likely to be shot down and killed everytime you do your job, you have to make the most of the time you have.

Gale would agree, but he'd also argue that a man is less likely to be shot down and killed if he flew like a sane human being.

Bucky doesn't see the fun in that."

23 - a piece of my writing that was inspired by a work from another medium (music, visual art, dance, etc.)

i nearly wrote my uni disseration on a series of conversations with an alien, where the alien learns about life on earth. it was going to be about really simple or broad things like birthdays and standing in line and that kind of thing, but i only ever wrote one conversation. it was about friendship, and it was heavily inspired by the 1986 film stand by me.

(i was going to post just a snippet but honestly i really love this and someone should get to see the whole thing)

The alien arrives on his doorstep, suitcase in hand, and says; “I’ve come to learn about humanity.”

Friendship

I never had any friends later on like the ones I had when I was twelve. Jesus, does anyone?

“Well?”

The alien is sat cross legged on the floor in front of the TV. A mug of tea – teabags had been fun to explain – is clasped snuggly within their six fingers. “I’m not sure I understand.”

“I – what’s there to understand?”

“This is a well-loved film among your people?”

“It’s a classic, yes.”

They turn from the television screen to look back at him. “A classic?”

He waves a hand, wafting through the air to try and locate a better definition. In the end, he simply settles on; “well-loved.”

“But why? What’s the message?”

“Films don’t always need a message – but this one, I suppose, is about treasuring friendship, or something like that.”

“Treasuring friendship.”

“Appreciating the friends that you have, yes.”

The alien shuffles (rather badly) to turn their body away from the screen and face where he sits on the sofa. Tea sloshes over the edge of their mug, but if they notice they do not show it.

“And what is the purpose of a friend?”

“Well, that’s…hm. The purpose of a friend is to be a friend. It’s sort of a broad but simple term.”

“What do friends do?”

“They spend time together, for one.”

“Why?”

“Because they enjoy each other’s company.”

“But what’s the point?”

“The point?” He sighs.

“What do you gain?”

“You gain their friendship. That kind of is the point.”

“But why?”

An alien, it occurs to him, is sometimes no more than an exasperating child. Their innocence is so pure, their lack of knowledge something to be defended, and yet it is every parents wish that their child would grow wise fast, with the outcome being that they never again have to hear the phrase but why.

“Because it’s nice, having someone who you have no real loyalty to – hanging out with someone you like just because you like them and share some kind of mutual, unspoken promise that you’ll keep on liking them for no real reason other than you just do.”

The alien considers this, tapping an uncomfortably long finger on the side of their mug, and he prays to whatever God he doesn’t believe in that their next words won’t be another question.

“Are we friends?”

Well. That was certainly unexpected. He supposes caretaker would be a better word, but the alien is looking at him so expectantly and hopeful.

“Yes, of course we are.”

The alien seems pleased.

“Does it make more sense that way?”

“Yes, I think it does.”

[eve6262]

now vs then

OT 2 SPOILERS // Throne and Father-centric, not ship (hopefully obviously).

Sometimes it’s hard to read Father.

Mother is obvious. She doesn’t bother hiding her emotions, because why should she? She’s the one with the whip, the one who makes the plans; her obvious glee makes her all the more frightening. Mother doesn’t care about that sort of thing.

But with Father, it’s harder.

The two of them are in one of the upper rooms of the den. Most Blacksnakes aren’t allowed up here, having rooms in other buildings across the New Delsta backstreets or something in the basement, but Father said she was special because of how young she joined them, so she lives in the den. The killing and crime she could do without, but a fluffy bed and pretty pictures are nice to come home to.

Father sits at the desk, though he’s turned around the chair so he can watch her practice her knife work. Every now and again he gives a pointer- “A little more momentum, less force-” and she complies. There’s a smile on his face.

His eyes are...harder to read.

There’s something that she thinks is supposed to be pride, in there. It’s probably to do with his own knife skills- second to none and killer of the most well-guarded targets, he’s certainly got reason to be proud of that. She’s gotten well enough into her own skills to understand how hard it is to fully master so many different blades and wield them as well as he does.

But something else is completely foreign to her. It’s not like the way his eyes glitter when he describes the fresh scent of blood, or the thrill of the kill. It’s not like the way his eyes haze over a little when he’s had one too many glasses of whiskey, and his voice gets a little raspier. It doesn’t even look like the time she mentioned that she liked talking to Pirro because he was nice to her, and he knelt down on her level and said, “If he ever tries something on you, you come tell me, okay?”

She, of course, said, “Why would I need to do that?”

And he laughed. And then looked her dead in the eyes and made her promise. Maybe it’s a personal thing.

It’s always a personal thing with the Blacksnakes.

Not for Throné, though. She likes Pirro, is friends with Scaracci and Donnie, but she doesn’t go out of her way to hate other people. Nobody’s ever done something so mean to her she wanted to hurt them. It’s never been personal. Maybe that comes with being barely twelve years old, maybe that comes with hating the smell of blood. She isn’t sure.

Not a lot of things are concrete aside from her collar. The way Mother’s temper flares at the slightest disgrace; what was courtesy yesterday is disrespect today. The whip marks may never truly heal from her skin, especially from that one incident with the blood.

She hated that.

But Father’s eyes had been something special.

That’s what it is now, she realizes. The second thing in his eyes. Whatever it was, it’s the same thing as when he bandaged her back after Mother whipped it bloody. She was only ten at the time, and her own eyes held tears she was trying furiously to hold back, but they simply wouldn’t have it. It’s been more than a year since then, and now she knows better. The tears will be stayed, or else Mother’s wrath gets worse.

It also gets worse when she doesn’t see tears, to be fair. There’s no winning in this house unless you’re Mother or Father. Or maybe one of the dealers at the poker tables.

Father makes a noise in her throat and she stops on instinct. Looks up to him- even sitting down he’s so tall- and walks over to her in that strange gait she’s heard Pirro call a ‘stalk’. “Good job, Throné.”

He pats her head. She closes her eyes and pouts, because now her hair is all messed up, and he laughs. But she does miss the warmth of his hand when he pulls it away. Still, she fixes the part around her eye, now out of place and hard to see through properly.

“Come on, then. I have some work to do. Do you wanna come with me?”

“...Okay,” she says, because accompanying Father on his work is better than staying in the den with just Mother. Even if there’s the smell of blood.

“I hoped you’d say that,” he says with a familiar glint in his eye, and beckons her along.

---

It took a while for her to figure out what that look in his eye meant.

She didn’t think about it even after he died. Even after the word “dad” spilt from her lips like the blood from his stomach, the life leaving him even as he held her hand and wanted nothing anymore but the love from a daughter he’d thought he’d lost. He had it, in the end. Claude didn’t get what he wanted, and neither did her true mother, and neither did Mother-

But maybe at least Father is happy in whatever hell he’s in. Happy that he got his daughter.

It took a long, long while. But she finally saw it again.

In Osvald’s eyes.

Elena has apparently discovered some huge conspiracy within whatever organization controls the labeling of soulstones. Naturally, Osvald agreed to accompany her, and Throné was bored, so she decided to tag along. In secret, because Elena is a nice girl and Osvald’s daughter shouldn’t be caught mingling with thieves.

He’s probably noticed her by now, though.

She’s ranting about something or other. It sounds remarkably less like the man himself and more like Partitio rambling about whatever new invention he’s discovered, excited almost more than Ochette catching a whiff of good meat. The look in her eyes is soft but determined, a combination she’s never seen before but wants to associate with pure-hearted children.

Osvald is of course proud of his daughter. It’s in his eyes- pride, and what she can now safely define as affection.

It’s almost unfathomable to think it was in Father’s eyes.

Almost.

Because wasn’t that what it was all about? Mother cared for nothing, Claude dispassionate, Pirro setting aside whatever reservations he had in search of luxury. But Father was nothing like any of them. He told her where to go, gave her a warning but knew she’d follow because he never cared about this game. None of it- not the garden, not the tests, nothing.

He wanted a daughter. And Claude took that away from him. So he hid, and bid his time, and knew that the only thing that could get him his daughter was his skills with a blade, and so he used them. And then, when he had her, he realized:

What did he have to give her?

The answer wasn’t much. A life of crime. Of death. That she didn’t enjoy, he must’ve realized. That fateful day, when he asked if she liked the smell of blood, and she asked for the raspberry jam she loved back home. He’d given her some, but looked contemplative as he stared out a window. Perhaps he forgot, in all his quest for the things he wanted, that not everyone was as bloodthirsty as he was.

And yet he tried anyway. He did, in the end, give her the one thing she wanted- her freedom. With Father alive, there could be no freedom, even if he had simply handed over the key. He knew the truth- the spiraling, awful, toxic truth. He knew the Lostseed tale and the man who presided over a fallen kingdom.

It was a gift to him, too. A chance to finally leave the hell of a cesspit that was life for him- a wife taken, his daughter raised into this awful cycle, having to deal with Mother as a cohort.

“Father. Wherever you are...”

She starts down the path, realizing that Elena and Osvald are gone. She’ll catch up. She always does.

“I hope you’re happy.”

--

this is pretty short and really only has me as the target demographic so I thought I'd post it on tumblr instead of ao3 if you want me to post it on ao3, leave a comment and I'll post it though, I get not wanting to read your fanfiction on tumblr lmao

~Eve6262

[atinytokki]

𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐨 𝐀𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

Chapter 12: Destiny

The jungle was quiet but restless. Never more than a few moments could go by without the cry of a bird, the hum of insect life, or the distant crackling of canopy leaves swaying in the island breeze.

Ama was alive, and less than a day after the wave had struck, certain animals were returning to their habitats.

Namely birds, Surgeon Oh noted as he made his way through the trees. He was no expert on wildlife, but considering that they’d had the sense to flee ahead of the beach’s destruction, they must be assured that it was safe now if they were already returning.

Moisture clung to the air, whether naturally or as a result of the disaster, and thirst crept through the surgeon on his journey back to the Crow from a brief supply run.

Surely not thirsty enough to be imagining things, he thought. But the surgeon could swear there were voices in the trees up ahead.

Passing the cluster of trees where the uniforms had been laid out as laundry, the sounds suddenly ceased. What Oh couldn’t put a name to before, he certainly had no chance of identifying now.

He had no weapon, unless one counted the island roots he had dug up for medicinal purposes during his search, so he merely clutched them closer to his chest and quieted his steps through the brush.

The silence, after becoming attuned to the noises of the jungle, was unnerving. It was not until he came upon the familiar sight of palms bent sideways under the pressure of the ship as it had washed up into the trees that he let out a sigh of relief.

But his assurance came too soon. In the blink of an eye, he was restrained on both sides, with something sharp pressed against his back in warning. A knife, he presumed.

They had jumped at him from out of nowhere, perfectly hidden in the bushes before pouncing at his blind spots. With how tightly they were pressed against him, the surgeon couldn’t even turn his head to see his captors.

But he didn’t need to wait long before coming face to face with the orchestrator of the ambush.

“You,” he ground out between clenched teeth as the pirate sauntered over to him, smaller frame just as imposing as the muscled crew members holding him prisoner. “Performing a mutiny, even now?”

“Hardly,” Hongjoong laughed, looking half offended by the question. “Unless you consider yourself the captain.”

Pursing his lips, the surgeon considered his options.

“I always knew it,” he spat, angry at himself more than anything. “I always told Byun you would betray us. Once a pirate, always a pirate.”

“That doesn’t have to be the case, you know,” the pirate crooned calmly, extending his hand toward one of the other pirates.

The pressure at Surgeon Oh’s back let up, and the object threatening him was passed to the pirate captain.

A stick. Not even a knife.

The surgeon shook his head at the ridiculousness of it all.

“I could kill you with this,” Hongjoong acknowledged, nonchalant. “Yeosang could kill you with his bare hands. Any of us could kill you in a myriad of ways, you know.”

But we haven’t, went unspoken.

“So what do you want?”

“First you’re going to tell us everything you know. And then,” the pirate flashed a smile and shrugged, signalling his boys to let go.

“How about a little more trust?”

___

Most days San was too impatient to accept watch duty with open arms.

The others often said that he had changed, and while it may be true, one thing that had not was his boredom when he scanned the horizon endlessly until his time was up.

Today, however, he remained alert and fixed, hoping he’d be the one to spy land or sail. It was the second day since departing their safe haven in the ATEEZ’s journey to the island Ama, and it was unknown whether the Stardust had arrived ahead of them or not.

There would be much to consider when he did see land; where to anchor, who to send as a scout, whether to approach in disguise, when and where to meet the Stardust crew, and plenty more things that would need to be arranged in a single moment.

“Won’t it be interesting to see Eden again?” Mingi’s voice broke into his musings. Somehow he had climbed up to the crow’s nest despite his injury, but the sweat beading on his forehead gave away his exhaustion.

Momentarily struck speechless, San quickly helped him into a sitting position before scolding him.

“What on Earth are you doing up here?”

Mingi flashed a shy but knowing smile. “You said I ought to keep up my exercise.”

“Yes, over time!” San scoffed. “Walking in circles was a challenge for you just yesterday.”

“Don’t worry, I pulled myself up,” Mingi responded, flexing his arms comically. “I’m starting to understand how it is Yunho gets himself up here with only one leg.”

A smile of satisfaction began to grow on San’s face. Mingi was already healing well in mind and body. “And so you thought you’d join me on my watch? If the others hear of this, you may be added to the rotation again. Are you sure you want to risk having to stay up here for another few hours?”

The quartermaster smirked at the veiled threat and performed a shrug of nonchalance. “If it means I see the Stardust first, so be it.”

San chuckled at this. “You know, I was hoping to be the one to see the Stardust.”

They were all running out of busywork aboard the ATEEZ, and the lack of wind had stalled them even more. If there was anything to be competitive over, it was this.

Mingi gazed at him for a moment while the sun beat down on both of them before asking, “What’s your reason?”

“I’m bored,” San answered simply. “The sight of land and some company would be more than welcome.”

He received a nod in answer. Mingi felt the same way. There was a mission on their doorstep, if only they could get to their destination. “No more delays.”

“Well, since you’re here…” San muttered to himself before swiping the spyglass from Mingi’s belt. “You’ve got better equipment than me.”

He set down his own, smaller, spyglass and scanned the horizon with Mingi’s. He didn’t seem to care, lost in thought as he was.

“Last I saw Eden, he was recovering and insisting we go on without him. Jongho and I were talking about how we always wanted to go back for him but now even more so, I… I want to hear about how he taught Hongjoong.”

Mingi sounded almost embarrassed at the admission. Encouraging him to go on, San smiled and gave him his full attention. It was a thought that had crossed his mind too.

“I was there, you know, for most of that time,” the quartermaster sighed. “Lost in my own world and my own troubles but never far from their secret training on the beach.”

That shared past afforded Mingi more cause than most to wish to speak with the Stardust’s captain again, especially under these new circumstances.

“That’s true,” San filled in the quiet of Mingi’s pause, thinking back to his own experience with Eden. “I think for me, it’ll feel like I’m meeting him for the first time. He doesn’t know what I’m really like at all— just the demon.”

Mingi cringed at that, no doubt remembering how Eden had at first suggested killing San to rid them all of the demon.

“It will be a much better first impression than the previous one,” he encouraged instead.

San chuckled at his optimism, kicking his legs in the air where they hung from the platform, high above the deck.

“I’ve changed in more ways than one,” he acknowledged. “I think I could speak up for myself now. All of us could.”

“It will be nice to be on equal ground with him.” Mingi agreed. “I know the way Eden and Hongjoong left things was a little… awkward to say the least. But having seen and read what I have, I want to know the history.”

Suddenly, a shape appeared far south and directly in their path. White and cloud like.

“Sail,” San breathed, scrambling for the spyglass and taking a good look.

It was a ship headed the same direction as them, and it must have come from southeast. San had no idea how long it might have been visible while he was chatting away.

“Sail, Mingi!”

He jumped to his feet and Mingi mirrored him, finally seeing it himself. “Is it them?”

“…No.”

San carefully observed the ship and its flag. “It’s of Haemin make and… the colours… it’s an aid ship.”

Mingi audibly swallowed next to him. They both knew the ATEEZ was in no shape for naval warfare at the moment.

“Military?”

“Civilian,” San breathed a sigh of relief, catching sight of the people milling about on deck. “But it’s marked as an aid ship. I wonder why…”

“We’re flying our standard, San,” Mingi reminded him, pointing up to the flag proudly waving above them.

Pushing the spyglass back into Mingi’s arms, San made for the shrouds and began to climb down. He could only hope the others below had noticed the problem on the horizon and were preparing to deal with it. “I’ll tell the crew to raise neutral flags,” he informed Mingi, releasing the net for a minute to point at the telescope he’d just handed him. “Keep an eye on that ship.”

“San!” Mingi called down before he could get any further. “Remind Seonghwa about the textiles smokescreen! He’ll know what it is, we’ve done it before.”

“Textiles,” San repeated to himself as he clambered down like a flustered cat in a tree. “Textiles, textiles… Seonghwa!”

The boatswain was already waiting for him on the main deck, sword in one hand and the other on his holster.

“What is it?” He wasted no time in asking.

“Haemin aid ship, not military,” San summarised quickly, already rushing to take down their colours. “Mingi says to do the textiles smokescreen,” he grunted between pulls of the rope. A pair of deckhands jumped to the task and helped him take the flag down.

“Good call,” Seonghwa approved, waving the other officers down from the quarterdeck. “I’m going to change. Jongho?”

Cupping his hands around his mouth, Jongho projected his voice for those crew members at the furthest end of the ship to hear. “I want ten of you with concealed weapons to stay on deck and act inconspicuously. The rest of you, below, and prepare the cannons but gun ports stay closed until my orders.”

Immediately, the crew hurried into action and sorted out among themselves who was to do what.

Seonghwa re-emerged from the boardroom in record time, now with a nondescript jacket and a merchant’s hat, and asked after the final officer. “Yunho?”

“I’ll go below with Jongho,” Yunho decided quickly. “There will be much to manage there.”

“Hyung, let me go with you,” San interjected as he grabbed Seonghwa’s arm. “I picked up a phrase or two of their language on that Haemin ship.”

“Alright,” Seonghwa relented, unclipping the holster from San’s belt and handing it to him. “Hide that and be ready to signal Jongho if our cover is blown. We’re posing as textile merchants.”

The pair stood beside the gunwale in nervous silence, San’s heart beating loudly in his ears while the aid ship drew nearer. When it was in speaking distance, he and Seonghwa simultaneously removed their hats and waved them to draw attention.

Finally someone from the Haemin ship approached the side and yelled something.

San only caught one word; where.

“What did he say?” Seonghwa whispered quickly.

“He… he said…” San faltered for a moment. It must be a dialect he hadn’t heard before. “Um, he said a phrase with the word for ‘where’ in it. I don’t know if he’s asking where we’re from or where we’re going.”

“I thought you knew some phrases!” Seonghwa hissed, eyes almost imperceptibly widening.

“Some!” San argued back between his teeth, keeping a smile on for the Haemin sailors watching. “Not that phrase! Take your chances.”

Seonghwa sighed a moment before calling back, “Ama!”

Consternation broke out on the aid ship seconds later. The men were speaking over each other but clearly meant to give a warning.

There was one phrase, one word that San recognised.

Flood.

It was the same in both their languages.

“That I understood,” he chuckled nervously. “They’re telling us not to go there because of a flood.”

Seonghwa gave him a look and waved in thanks to the aid ship. “Yes, I think we both got it.”

San called out their thanks in the Haemin language and the two of them turned to discuss the problem amongst themselves in low voices.

“A tsunami must have hit the island,” Seonghwa reasoned. “Look at them.”

He nodded towards the sailors’ grand gestures.

“Is this good or bad for us?” San muttered, crossing his arms and watching the aid ship move on in the direction of Ama.

“We can only hope the Stardust didn’t get caught in the wave,” Seonghwa pointed out. “And it would be best to follow that Haemin ship at a distance.”

“A very large distance,” Mingi’s voice called down to them from the shrouds as he descended from the crow’s nest. Clearly he was in earshot for a minute or two. “They can’t see our ship headed the same direction after just now telling us not to go to Ama.”

“We should’ve offered our help,” Seonghwa groaned in hindsight. “It would be an easy in to dock there.”

“If there even is a dock still,” Mingi shuddered. “That tsunami seemed like bad news.”

“Sorry, I don’t know how to tell them we’re offering our help,” San shrugged. “It would’ve obligated us to bring survivors back to the Haemin mainland anyway. Let’s just hang back until they’re almost out of sight and go slow.”

“How much time is this costing us?” Seonghwa asked, chewing on his lip and watching the Haemin ship sail away.

Wooyoung and Yeosang were on his mind, as they were on everyone’s. The ATEEZ was unlikely to find them without the help of the Stardust, assuming the Stardust had indeed tracked Assassin Jang to the Black Crow.

“I’m not sure,” San admitted. “But now we have someone to follow to Ama, so at least we know we’re headed the right direction.”

There were nods all around at his valid point. That had been a concern of theirs until now.

“One thing at a time,” he went on, the only way he knew how. “Next we just have to figure out how to get on that island.”

___

“Surely it’s not too soon to ask the big question,” Wooyoung voiced his thoughts freely, even while scaling the massive beached hull of a 140-gun warship. “How do we get off this island?”

Yeosang responded with ease, “They’ll be sending aid from the capital.”

Of course, it was a massive natural disaster on an island that had been useful in the war effort as a prison base. The capital must be sending rescue ships.

“I think you know what I have to say about that,” Hongjoong interrupted Wooyoung’s thoughts before he could convince himself into complacency.

“That we ought not to take that ship,” Yeosang sighed knowingly, ducking a weirdly angled cannon on his way to climb over the railing. “Let the locals be saved, stay out of the way.”

“Well aren’t you all so selfless,” Surgeon Oh scoffed, his voice dripping with sarcasm, as he reached the main deck only moments after Yeosang. He turned to help Wooyoung up.

Wooyoung rejected his hand.

“It’s not just that,” Hongjoong clarified, hauling himself up last and taking a moment to breathe before looking around the ship. “We’re more than capable of regrouping here for a time, and the longer our presence goes unnoticed by Haemin, the better.”

“Unnoticed? I don’t know how anyone can miss this thing,” Wooyoung whispered to himself, gazing up at the mainmast and, as it happened, into the branches. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

There was something tree-like about the Crow itself, perched as a bird in its nest, but crawling with vines and mosses where the tattered sails hung in shreds. It was tilted to the side, with a massive hole in the main deck that ran so deep it exposed two decks below.

An eerie creaking sounded every time the wind blew.

“Can you believe the power of the ocean? To strand a ship this size in a cluster of trees of all places.” Yeosang had a smile on his face as he rested his hand on the mast.

He was right, the Black Crow was enormous and incredibly out of place, but had found a permanent home among the branches and would likely not move again.

Motion from the direction of the quarterdeck put Wooyoung on guard, especially when Lieutenant Byun came into view.

No matter how much he reminded himself of the officer’s change of heart, the memory of being tortured by his hand raised the hairs on the back of his head.

“What have we here?” Byun laughed in disbelief, arms thrown wide in welcome. “You were all thrown off the ship, weren’t you? It’s a miracle you’re alive.”

Hongjoong smiled and shook his head.

It wasn’t the first time.

“And you lot?” Wooyoung called up. As usual, he didn’t bother showing them more than the most basic level of respect. He was a pirate, they knew it and they could deal with it. “Where were you?”

“The captain’s cabin,” the lieutenant answered simply, motioning behind him to the door, still on its hinges. “It weathered the wave well, all things considered. Though the windows are no longer intact.”

Yeosang stared for a moment before asking him, “Of all the men we freed… how many…?”

It was generous of him to say “we”, Wooyoung thought to himself. As he remembered it, save for the single hit he contributed himself, Yeosang was the one ripping chains off the imprisoned navy men and receiving no thanks for it.

“Nearly all,” Byun encouraged swiftly, descending from his post and joining them on the maindeck. “We lost a few who were on deck and one or two washed out the windows. They may be on the beach alive, if you managed it.”

Hongjoong flashed a bitter smile and let the man down gently. “I don’t think so.” He had been on the beach long enough to see a few bodies. “Were children among them?”

“No,” Surgeon Oh piped up. “We protected them in the boardroom.”

“Nice to see you have your priorities straight,” Wooyoung muttered, not really intending to be heard. It was the bare minimum, but good to have confirmed.

Byun took another step forward and lowered his voice for the captain’s ears. “Is it presumptuous of me to hope you’re here to join forces again?”

Hongjoong scoffed out right at his redundancy and answered in his previous volume, “In this situation? No.”

Byun seemed to relax, but Hongjoong wasn’t done speaking, and quickly continued, “But we do expect to be heard and consulted equally. This is about survival now.”

The group quieted at this observation. Once again their lives were in their hands, and this time things couldn’t be fixed with a blunderbuss and some good aim.

“Right,” Oh smacked his lips and collected his medicine roots, strewn across the deck where he’d dropped them in his climb over the railing. “Let’s get on with it then.”

The pair of officers led them to the captain’s cabin, where the four other leaders of the mutiny had gathered for a meeting of sorts. It looked much the same; a table righted here, a trunk tipped over there. Soaked blankets were drying by the window ledge where glass had blown out and sunshine now freely leaked through.

Once introductions were finished, they all settled into business.

“Where’s the Admiral?” Hongjoong asked the room, voice low.

Byun shook his head helplessly, answering, “Not among us. We haven’t seen him since landing, so we presumed him dead. Although, if you survived…”

He trailed off, not needing to state his implication outright. If there was a chance Admiral Kim was out there, they would simply need to be prepared.

“What have you been doing in terms of survival then?” Wooyoung questioned, arms crossed as he surveyed the worn out officers.

“Well it should be obvious but, no, we can’t sail the Crow out of here,” Lieutenant Park informed the group with a grim smile, happy to see the three pirates but worried nonetheless. “Even if we somehow could remove her from the tree, I’m afraid the damage is extensive.”

Second Lieutenant Han opened his mouth next to offer an idea, a man Wooyoung hadn’t spoken with but knew was on their side.

“We did think perhaps that the capital might send some boats to conduct rescue operations, seeing as this island is important to the war—”

“No,” Hongjoong cut him off before he had a chance to explore the same possibility the three of them had recently discussed. “If we stow away on an aid ship, we’ll have to stage a mutiny again at some point, or set ourselves adrift on a longboat. I’m not a fan of either of those options.”

Surgeon Oh, who had been nodding in agreement at Han’s suggestion, sighed and pulled up a chair to sit in. They might be here for awhile.

There was a tense silence for a moment before Helmsman Kim fought back, “So you prefer being stranded on a deserted island? That’s your best play?”

All Wooyoung knew about him was that he had strongly opposed their mutiny before but had agreed to it when pressured, out of love for the royal family. Clearly his priorities ended there.

Hongjoong stared him down long enough to catch him off guard when he finally replied.

“292 days.”

“What?” The helmsman sputtered. He couldn’t yet see why it was relevant.

“292 days,” Hongjoong repeated, unfazed. “That’s how long I survived an island much smaller, deadlier, and with far fewer resources. Ama isn’t even deserted.”

Silenced, the helmsman sat down and looked away. He would just have to trust the pirate captain on this.

Technically, Hongjoong was correct. There were still people on Ama, and even when they were carried away to safety, civilisation would soon return to the island. A few hundred years from now, Wooyoung could even imagine tall buildings springing up around this old warship cradled in an ancient tree.

Steward Doh tilted his head to the side at the mention of Hongjoong’s time on the deserted island. He still clearly remembered hearing the pirate briefly open up about it.

I managed to sail alone over five thousand nautical miles in a boat I built with my bare hands, whilst wounded and starving, as an eighteen year old, and came back stronger.

“I say we follow him.”

“What?” Surgeon Oh blinked at the steward in confusion. “Just like that? No one else wants to take an aid ship?”

“Regardless of our method of escape, Lucky is right,” Doh reminded him. “Survival comes first. We can survive here as long as we need to, but we ought to set our affairs in order. We’ve been here a day and all we’ve managed to do is drain the flooding in the lower compartments. I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry.”

There was a hum of agreement in unison from the other Black Crow officers and Yeosang shook his head in amusement. “I’m sure there must be some preserved food down there,” he reasoned. “What supplies have you salvaged?”

“We didn’t exactly get that far,” Byun admitted, massaging his temples in embarrassment.

“Why don’t we go back to the basics,” Hongjoong reminded the group, gesturing around him. “Shelter I see is taken care of. Food will be easy for a while. What are you doing about water?”

Byun nodded in the direction of the youngest among them, explaining, “Midshipman Moon searched for water last, but didn’t find any. Midshipman, show the captain where you were looking. Maybe he will be able to help you.”

The lad eagerly stepped up and escorted Hongjoong out of the room, the pair of them promising to return within the hour.

Meeting more or less adjourned, the officers got to their feet and began to disperse to their usual tasks.

“I’d inventory the storerooms if I were you,” Yeosang put in a word of advice before his hand went to his head and found it bleeding again.

“Surgeon Oh,” Wooyoung quickly caught up to the man before he could finally escape to the infirmary with his medicine roots. “We need some medical assistance here.”

Without even glancing their way, the surgeon waved them on and the pair followed him belowdecks. It stank of soaked wood and wet powder on that level, a particular dankness to the floorboards even after being drained.

“In here,” Oh led them inside and finally placed his roots in a jar, rummaging his drawers for his tools. Books and scrolls were laid out by the porthole window in the hopes that the wind would dry them.

With ease, the surgeon clipped Wooyoung’s shirt sleeve from Yeosang’s head with his strangely shaped scissors. He reached for another of his strange contraptions until Yeosang stopped him.

“Just the fresh bandage please. I don’t know where those have been,” he motioned to the metal tools.

Wrapping them up in cloth again, Oh complied with a knowing sigh and began winding the bandage tightly around the wound.

Keeping a watchful eye, Wooyoung sat himself on a table and looked around.

No one else was there in need of treatment, an incredible feat considering the wave that had slammed into the Crow and washed her this far into the woods.

“Nearly the whole crew alive and not one old sailor to teach you these survival skills?” Wooyoung scoffed to no one in particular.

“Admiral Kim didn’t like old salts,” Oh answered him. His voice was clipped and unreadable in his focus on the patient before him. “He employed as few of them as possible. Never one to be outshined by someone more experienced than he.”

“Ridiculous,” Wooyoung laughed and shook his head. No one had a bigger ego than the admiral, wherever he might be. “All it took was a few Haemin ships to do that.”

It was quiet again for a moment while the surgeon finished and turned to his supplies to make a concoction for the pain.

Wooyoung was still thinking about that Haemin ambush, arms crossed and slouched against the wall.

“Yeosang, you were in the palace,” he reminded the navigator, turning to him in curiosity. “Did it seem to you that anyone had the faintest idea why Haemin started the war?”

Yeosang hummed quietly to acknowledge the question before answering carefully, “Every diplomatic mission Jaecho has sent so far has ended in blood. It truly is quite unusual. The two countries have always had their animosity, but it was relatively quiet and peaceful until the assassination.”

He seemed to be just as confused about the reason for the war as Wooyoung and pondered further, head resting on his hand, “How could the Haemin king change so abruptly?

Wooyoung shook his head. He was the last person to know the answer to that. He’d been pressganged and thrown into this war so quickly, it was all he could do to keep up with his own orders, let alone the enemy’s.

“You’re sure he’s the one making the war decisions?” He asked Yeosang again, but only received a shrug in return.

“None of his generals even want to fight,” Oh chimed in while he squeezed an orange above the medicine cup before searching for his roots again. “And the Haemin advisors who dissented have either disappeared or turned up dead. He may be acting like a different person, but that king is running the country.”

Acting like a different person.

Wooyoung suddenly pictured San writhing on the floor of his cell, eyes alight with demon fire.

“Maybe something else is running him,” he whispered, the seed of a thought beginning to grow.

Yeosang and Surgeon Oh simply stared at him when he sat bolt upright.

“What do you mean?” Oh asked, deadpan, closing the window when the wind fluttered his book pages before continuing to crush the root into powder.

“Yeosang, think about it!” Wooyoung insisted, growing excited as the idea fully latched on. He ignored the surgeon and appealed to Yeosang’s recent memory. “The demon that infected San— what was it trying to do?”

“Infect Seonghwa,” Yeosang answered in a questioning tone of voice, slowly continuing as Wooyoung nodded him on voraciously. “…Because he’s royal blood? In order to take over Jaecho?”

“And then what happened?” Wooyoung jumped in, a touch too loud from the look the surgeon was giving him over his shoulder. “The king of Haemin became a different person overnight and ordered the assassination on the king and the crown prince!”

“He only succeeded in killing the king,” Oh pointed out, mixing the potion and handing it to his patient.

“So…?” Wooyoung prompted.

“So he started this ridiculous war?” Yeosang finished after taking a swig of the bitter drink, trying to be helpful.

Wooyoung got to his feet and took Yeosang’s face in his hands, as if to jog his memory so that he had to agree with his theory.

“Remember what Hongjoong said when we joined him here? Haemin is trying to kill Seonghwa. That was the whole reason Admiral Kim sent out an assassin; because he knew Haemin would be blamed for it. It can’t be a coincidence, Yeosang, it simply can’t! The demon is back and it’s taking Jaecho by force this time!”

“I don’t know, Woo,” Yeosang sighed with a lopsided smile, face still smushed between Wooyoung’s hands. “It’s a bit far-fetched and there’s a lot we don’t know…”

Wooyoung finally released him and threw his hands up in frustration.

“All the important things are there! My theory checks out, and we—”

Before Wooyoung could continue, he suddenly felt the tap of something bumping against his head and froze in place.

At the sound of the glass falling to the floor and shattering, his eyes shot over to see Yeosang, having dropped the cup, with his hands over his own mouth to muffle any noise he might make.

He and Surgeon Oh were both staring at something above Wooyoung, eyes wide and holding their breath.

Oh opened and closed his mouth a few times, extending his arm as if to calm everyone down.

“Don’t. Move.”

Wooyoung gulped and tried not to twitch when the feeling returned. His mouth was suddenly dry so he had to try twice to ask, “What… What is it?”

He already knew the answer from the way it was slithering down the back of his head into the neckline of his shirt.

“Snake,” Yeosang whispered. “Big snake. It’s hanging from the exposed rafters.”

Feeling its weight as it continued down him for a few tense moments, Wooyoung did the calculations. “How long is it? Four, five feet?”

It was moving much too slowly for his liking.

The surgeon took in the sight and gave him an estimate. “Looks to be almost six—”

“Give me something long,” Yeosang interrupted. “A sword, a stick— something to draw it off.”

Surgeon Oh scrambled for a moment before grabbing the poker from the fireplace and placing it in Yeosang’s hand.

“Quickly,” Wooyoung whimpered, feeling it begin to coil around his leg. “Don’t let it bite me.”

Oh continued running his mouth. “Actually, I’m not sure if it’s the biting kind or the constricting kind.”

Ignoring him, Yeosang shakily leaned forward and pressed the poker to Wooyoung’s leg, just below where the snake was moving. “Come on,” he whispered to it. “Just grab on and we’ll put you back where you belong.”

Sensing the increasing pressure to his leg, Wooyoung finally tilted his head down carefully, just enough to catch sight of the snake.

It was thick, a greenish colour with brown markings. Even as its triangular head prodded Yeosang’s poker with interest, its body continued to squeeze.

“Yeosang,” Wooyoung squeaked. “Please!”

Setting his jaw, the navigator moved in closer and involved his second hand, actively uncoiling the snake’s body with one while its head was busy with the poker in the other.

Finally it took the bait, inching forward enough for Yeosang to pull its body loose.

“Open the window!” He instructed the surgeon, nervous the snake would continue up his arm next. “Open the window!”

Stifling his panic, Oh rushed forward and unlatched it, swinging it open again and moving out of the way.

Swiftly, Yeosang flung the poker outside and watched it sail through the branches of the tree, snake still wrapped around it. All three stuck their heads out to look for it, but none of them could see the bottom well enough to know where it landed.

After a moment of relief and laboured breathing, Wooyoung sighed as an afterthought, “Well, I hope it didn’t land on anyone.”

“A bit late for that!” Yeosang scoffed, turning to the surgeon who was already sweeping up the glass shards from the dropped cup. “What do you think it was?”

“Some sort of boa,” he answered, shutting the window and glancing at the rafters to ensure there were no others lurking.

Wooyoung shuddered and sat himself down for a moment, exhausted. “How did it get in here?”

“We’re in a tree!” Oh cried, throwing up his hands uselessly. “That’s the second one today!”

Wooyoung barked out a sardonic laugh and fell back onto the table, shaking his head. This was life now, dodging death at every turn. They could not yet be truly safe.

“Come,” Yeosang patted his leg to get him up. “Let’s see how the inventory is coming along.” He checked his head bandage in a small hand mirror before passing it back to the surgeon.

“Alright,” Wooyoung sighed. “Why don’t we bring another poker just in case.”

___

The first to arrive was a fishing ship. It appeared on the horizon in the late afternoon, and Admiral Kim kept his eye on it as it approached.

He was perched in a bit of netting he had strung up at the top of a tree and had kept close watch over the comings and goings to and from the Black Crow where it was stranded nearby.

Aside from the occasional supply grab, the admiral had maintained his distance from the traitors and kept to his coconut water.

Disregarding his hunger and thirst, he had escaped any real injury thanks to the knife of a fellow sailor next to him when the wave hit. He had pilfered it, used it to cut his chains, held on for dear life, and stumbled out of the Crow before he could be seen.

For some reason, the idiots who had once been his brightest men were gathering supplies for a long stay rather than focusing their energy on flagging down a rescue ship. Anyone could tell that the tsunami was cause for a strategic retreat to gather resources, not for them to dig in their heels, but it seemed they had chosen their own fate. Kim suspected the idea came from the pirates, and he knew why his officers placed their confidence in them. It was no matter.

History would not repeat itself here.

He would not be humiliated again.

The fishing boat arriving now had evidently been a day out from Ama already, which meant official aid ships could not be far behind. He had best move on this one now rather than risk an altercation with the Haemin military.

Kim sunk lower into the palm fronds and considered his options.

He didn’t speak more than a few words of the language and he had no disguise to make him appear to be a Haemin civilian. There was no choice but to hope for the best, sneak aboard in his admiral’s uniform, and make his way to civilisation.

Others would have cracked under the pressure and the abandonment, but crew or no crew, ship or no ship, Kim would devise a way to achieve his present goals.

To gain what he could from the Haemin war, then end it when no longer profitable.

And to kill the pirate scum once and for all.

What could have been called a personal vendetta was now a full blown revenge mission, and even nature herself could not stand in his way.

The timely arrival of the fishing boat was proof of this.

It anchored when the sun began to set, and the admiral made his way down to the beach covertly, turning his coat inside out and stuffing his hat into his pocket.

A small group of survivors had already gathered and set up a camp of sorts, the dead laid out in one area and the injured in another. Keeping his head down, he mingled with them while longboats launched and paddled to shore.

He allowed two of them to fill with thankful refugees before stepping forward and helping a fisherman load an injured man onto a third boat. That was his ticket, and no one questioned him when he boarded the ship and tucked himself away into a bunk of his own when no one was looking.

If anyone asked, he signalled that he had lost his voice.

With a watchful eye ever pointed behind him, Kim holed up and let night descend on the island.

He may only have his uniform and the knife at his belt now, but he’d be back, and he’d be back in a position of power.

The admiral did not sleep that night.

There was work to be done.

___

When darkness fell, Hongjoong was careful in lighting the lanterns. The crew would need enough light to see what they could around the ship, but with too many bright lanterns they may find themselves attracting visitors.

“The fishing boat is leaving, sir,” the watchman informed Hongjoong as he passed him a lantern for the crow’s nest and descended the shrouds once again to the main deck where Wooyoung and Yeosang were waiting.

“Everything in order?” He asked them. Both looked tired after a full evening of sorting through waterlogged supplies and checking over their shoulders for another snake.

“As well as it can be,” Yeosang reported. “The steward has a fire going and supper brewing. It may taste of bilge water but it’s better than nothing.”

Wooyoung nodded in agreement and opened his mouth to repeat a request he’d made earlier, “Can we talk about my theory now? The one I mentioned before about the—”

“Demons, yes, I remember,” Hongjoong sighed, beckoning the pair to follow him. “Let’s move away from earshot first, why don’t we?”

A number of rope ladders had been hung from the side of the ship at their direction to allow more people to quickly scale the Crow when needed. The idea had already come in handy for the transportation of resources Hongjoong had found, and it would be much easier to get away now that such a system had been put in place.

“If a demon is giving orders from the top, why do you think soldiers are following?” Hongjoong put the question to Wooyoung as they descended to the beach, wary of the makeshift camp that had been set up on the south side of the island.

“I have the same question,” Yeosang admitted, running a hand through his hair, careful around his head wound. “Anyone could tell this was a losing war on sea, given the superiority of our navy to theirs. And yet they attack the colonies.”

Wooyoung huffed and shook his head. “It’s like I told you, they’re looking for Seonghwa hyung.”

“But the foot soldiers?” Hongjoong asked him, moving a palm frond out of the way and pausing at the edge of the treeline. “The sailors drafted from fisheries and trade ships aren’t possessed themselves, are they?”

“No, I don’t believe so,” Wooyoung answered, following along as Hongjoong led the group down to the water. “From what I remember from history class, Haemin has a much stronger monarchy than we do. What the king says, goes. And overthrowing him will be a bit harder than overthrowing the Master on Fortress Island.”

Yeosang snorted out a laugh at this, and plopped down to a seated position on the sand where the others quickly joined him.

There was no need for a lantern, as their eyes had all adjusted to seeing by the light of the moon.

After a moment of quiet thought, Wooyoung became antsy again.

“So, what do you say, Captain?

Hongjoong sighed and refused to meet his eyes. What was he meant to say? That they should charge in and assassinate the king of Haemin?

They had only just been reunited and now they had a chance at becoming whole again. Could he really give it up that easily just to help tip the scales of a war he never wanted to be part of?

“I’m not sure why you want my opinion so badly,” he muttered, still looking away. There was a twinge in his side as he said the words. “You know I’m not the expert on the shadow realm.”

Wooyoung put a hand on his shoulder and prodded gently, “If I’m right, don’t you think we ought to do something?”

Hongjoong finally glanced up at him and let down his walls for a moment. It was time to be vulnerable and as much as it pained him, it was the only choice when he had nothing left to hide behind.

“I don’t know,” he admitted quietly. “I don’t know what we should do, and if the rest of our members don’t want to act on this, I’m not going to make them.”

He couldn’t help but feel some responsibility to end things, but if it went against protecting the rest of his crew, once he found them—

“What is that?” Yeosang asked suddenly as he got to his feet, alarmed.

Hongjoong and Wooyoung followed suit and peered into the darkness of the water as they waited for the mysterious thing that bubbled underwater to appear.

It was a woman emerging from the shallows, slowly walking up out of the water as if she had been lying in wait there, headed towards them even as they stepped back, intimidated.

She was dressed in a garment that looked like the ocean itself, waves swirling across her and flowing with every step. She twinkled in the moonlight but her eyes were dark and her jaw was set.

Hongjoong felt as if he knew her, but she was some otherworldly creature borne of the sea.

“Who are you?” Yeosang ventured. The woman only circled them without answer, bare feet silent on the sand.

“The sea goddess,” Hongjoong suddenly realised and she stopped to gaze at him piercingly.

“I never thought the sea goddess could take physical form,” Wooyoung breathed.

“I never thought the sea goddess was real,” Yeosang whispered back.

The woman neither confirmed nor denied the allegation, but stopped to face Hongjoong and whisper in his ear. He was suddenly unsure whether this was a vision.

“Bloodshed has tainted my waters.” Her voice was at once crashing and clear. He was mesmerised as she continued, “Demonic forces have grown bold and stirred up war. You have the power to put a stop to them.”

Hongjoong swallowed. If this wasn’t a message from the deep, he didn’t know what was.

He looked into her eyes, cosmic and infinite. 

“End it,” she whispered with a furious hiss.

As quickly as she had come, the woman turned back and waded into the sea. For a moment she was luminous with the stars reflected in her hair, and the next moment she was gone, a drop in the current that was carried away.

“What just happened?” Wooyoung whispered, scared of ruining the moment.

“The sea goddess…” Yeosang answered, contemplative despite having just had his entire world sent reeling. “She was angry. Perhaps that’s why she sent the wave?”

“And it must be why we survived!” Wooyoung replied, excited at discovering it. “See, the ocean herself is enlisting our help.”

Hongjoong felt both their eyes on him, but he couldn’t bring himself to look away from the pool she had emerged out of. It was suddenly so still, as if all the air had been sucked down with her.

“One thing at a time.”

Crickets began chirping again— none of the pirates had been sure when they had stopped— and Yeosang called the captain’s attention away for good this time.

“Hongjoong, there’s something else. Look.”

A ship was on the horizon, coming from the northwest this time.

“It can’t be an aid ship already,” Wooyoung mused, pulling out a spyglass he had been carrying around, knowing he wouldn’t be able to see it in the darkness anyway.

That was because he didn’t recognise her as she drew nearer.

“The Stardust,” Hongjoong said quietly with a warm smile.

A choked gasp from behind told him Yeosang and Wooyoung had heard him.

“You can’t be serious!” Yeosang exclaimed, snatching the spyglass from Wooyoung and trying his best to see the approaching ship himself. “Could it really be…?”

“The Stardust!” Wooyoung jumped up and down, elated and no longer taking care to be quiet. “We’re saved!”

“But who’s crewing her?” Yeosang spluttered. “And where did she come from? A rebuilt Stardust?”

“I always wondered if… one day…” Hongjoong trailed off in amazement. Since meeting an imprisoned Maddox all those months ago, a hope had formed inside him.

That Eden had been wrong, that some of his crew had indeed survived.

And Hongjoong was looking at them as they launched boats and made their way to the island.

Yeosang and Wooyoung hung back until Hongjoong motioned them forward to meet the crew.

“Hongjoong!” An excited shriek sounded from the boat and a shape too shadowy to make out jumped overboard with a splash.

From his voice it was clearly Maddox, swimming the distance to meet them.

He crawled ashore, dripping, and pulled Hongjoong into a hug.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Hongjoong laughed, squeezing back regardless of his wet clothes.

“I can’t believe you’re alive,” Maddox replied, pulling back to look at him. “We all thought the execution was… well, successful.”

Hongjoong shook his head with a sigh, keeping his former quartermaster’s hands in his but letting him greet Yeosang and Wooyoung.

“I can’t tell you what a relief it is to find the three of you together here of all places. The Mystic told us just a few days ago of your survival, but the rest of your officers will be thrilled beyond belief. They embarked on a rescue mission just after we did, and sent us a message to rendezvous here. We hoped they would find you first, but… how on Earth did you come to be on Ama?”

“It’s a long story,” Wooyoung reported with a laugh, hugging Maddox as if they were old friends. “But you’re in for a surprise. The Black Crow herself is here, washed up with all her officers. Excluding one Admiral Kim.”

Maddox’s eyes widened in shock and, after turning to check that the others were on their way when he heard the first boat reach the shore, asked, “Is that going to be a problem?”

“No,” Yeosang reassured him, arms crossed and a smirk on his face. “A strong majority has defected to our side.”

Maddox shook his head wordlessly at what they had accomplished in so little time. “We’ll have to debrief soon. We have a surprise of our own.”

The rest of the officers were pulling their boats up the beach and coming to see what all the fuss was. The lanterns they brought with them splashed light on their faces, and each grew clearer as they approached.

Hongjoong registered who each of them was and watched the shock of who they were seeing hit them one by one.

Youngsaeng, Minseob, Jihan, Soomin, Jonghoon… Eden.

And a new addition, a woman he vaguely recognised.

“Surprise!” Maddox chuckled, somewhat nervously, unsure how Hongjoong would take to seeing Eden again.

They had separated in the autumn on civil terms, but a tense atmosphere hung between them nonetheless. It felt as if enough had happened in the days since for them to greet one another amicably, but Hongjoong wasn’t sure what to say.

The two merely stared at each other for a moment.

Everyone else was mingling already, making introductions where they needed to and congratulations on having reunited.

Eden drew closer and flashed a sad smile.

“How are you?” Hongjoong asked awkwardly, feeling ever so much the weight of silence in his former mentor’s presence.

“A little worse for wear but mostly healed,” Eden answered honestly, confidently. “You?”

Hongjoong nodded his head slowly as he checked in with his body. “The same,” he finally answered, fighting the sudden pull of tears as they gathered in his throat.

“I’m happy to see you,” Eden told him resolutely, standing very close now and not breaking eye contact.

Hongjoong pressed his lips together and tried to nod again, a little lost in the feelings that overwhelmed him.

Anxiety, comfort, pain, love, confusion… relief.

A hand landed on his shoulder, ever mindful not to smother him.

“The world needs you,” Eden admitted quietly. “We all need you.”

And it was all Hongjoong needed to hear.

Like the child he’d once been long ago, he threw himself into Eden’s arms and clung on tightly. Something inside him was at peace and he knew once they’d argued about it, once he’d laid bare the grievances weighing him down, they’d be back to some semblance of how they used to be. They’d be alright.

Eden held him for a moment before pulling back and checking for tears.

“I’m alright,” Hongjoong whispered, wiping them away before anyone else saw. It was a reality he needed to remind himself of constantly since that brush with death.

“Let me introduce you to our newest member,” Eden guided him back to the group and pulled aside the woman who had come to shore with them.

“Namji, from the apothecary shop on Geobugi,” she told him herself, beaming and shaking his hand enthusiastically. “Your members Yunho and San visited before.”

“You know them by name,” Hongjoong observed, not surprised to hear that they’d been in Geobugi for awhile before setting out to find Wooyoung and Yeosang. “Do you know how far away they are?”

“Not presently,” Namji answered, still hopeful. “But they can’t be more than a day out. Soon, very soon, I imagine.”

The thought of it made his stomach turn in anticipation.

“Good,” Hongjoong shot her a relieved smile and addressed the group.

“I think we had better inform our Navy friends of your arrival. Some of them might not take too kindly to the idea, but this island is under our control,” here he gestured to Wooyoung and Yeosang as well. “So let’s all try to coexist. I hope you've brought some decent food. I think a meeting will be in order tomorrow.”

Glancing again at the waves where the sea goddess had disappeared not long before, he accepted the long road ahead.

“We have much to discuss.”

___

Mingi stood patiently at the wheel with his eyes trained on the distant dot of the ship ahead of him, stretching occasionally and eating a packet of salted crackers.

They had followed the aid ship through the night despite the lack of wind and now that the third day was dawning, he knew they must be arriving any minute now.

It wouldn’t be the first time that his eyes played tricks when he saw another shape ahead that looked, from the low light behind the ATEEZ, something like a landmass.

Hongjoong’s voice was there in his mind again, reminding him of words he had once spoken when it was only the two of them against the world on open waters.

Don’t lose sight of yourself and the world around you. The ocean has many tricks, and she’ll beat you down before she shows you the way.

Mingi could only hope this really was the way they were meant to go, and as he grew more and more certain that the form ahead was indeed the island, his will was hardened and his mind was set.

Ama was a rare mercy, and it was time to take advantage of it.

Brushing off the crumbs, he went to the rail of the quarterdeck and called down to Yunho, who was closest in earshot.

“Land ho, look ahead.”

The master rigger turned sharply to spy the speck of an island himself and joined Mingi on the quarterdeck. He too had been considering their options.

“We’re approaching from the east, but the Stardust would’ve come from northwest,” Yunho pointed out. “So perhaps we’d best circle around to that side of the island.”

“It’ll help us avoid prying eyes at any rate,” Mingi agreed. “Time to bid farewell to our aid ship.”

Clouds dotted the sky in the west, and the ATEEZ passed in and out of shadow as Mingi guided her around the island.

Yunho was watching closely through his spyglass and, after a moment, lowered it with a sharp intake of breath.

“It must be on a slope,” he pointed out. “Look at the difference in flooding.”

He was right, the southeast side of the island was practically submerged still, while the area they were heading to remained much clearer of debris.

“The Stardust!” Seonghwa exclaimed from the main deck before coming up and joining them, Jongho and San in tow. He had felt the change in course and now seemed lighter, as if a great burden had been lifted from his shoulders by their arriving here.

The island was calling to them.

“Oh, thank the ocean,” Mingi sighed in relief. Despite everything, they’d succeeded in meeting the Stardust. It was such a small, meagre goal compared to what they had accomplished as a crew in the past, but it brought respite nonetheless.

“Look alive, lads,” Jongho addressed their crew. He’d been unusually active in their training and direct orders as of late. “Longboats at the ready.”

“Shall we go to them straight away?” San posited, joining Mingi and Yunho at the wheel. “Or might we pull for the island?”

“That’s a good question,” Yunho acknowledged with a sigh, not seeing anyone on the deck of the Stardust in his spyglass.

“She’s anchored,” Seonghwa observed. “So the officers must be ashore, no?”

Mingi let them continue to debate the dangers of rowing to the island now, with no indication where the Stardust crew was, and snatched Yunho’s spyglass to take a look at the beach himself.

Three people appeared to be standing there, watching the ATEEZ approach. Taken aback, Mingi extended the telescope as far as he could to get some detail.

His jaw dropped when the lens unblurred and he fixed his gaze on the silhouettes.

It was Wooyoung and Yeosang, dressed down to shirts and breeches and in conversation with one another. Yeosang’s head was bandaged.

Mingi let out a startled laugh and turned to look at the others in astonishment.

“I can’t be seeing this.”

They paused their conversation and gave him their attention.

A beat.

He was unsure how to even articulate what he was looking at. Part of him wondered if he’d been hit on the head and begun to hallucinate.

“What is it?” Jongho asked bluntly when all Mingi could do was shake his head and grin at them.

Wooyoung and Yeosang, the very reason they had taken off on this forsaken journey south. The reason they’d interrogated an assassin, fought a kraken, and dodged a whirlpool. Just to get to the next step that would lead them to their missing members. The last pieces of the puzzle who could complete them as a group.

“Mingi?”

His hands shaking, he passed the spyglass to the nearest officer. He wasn’t even sure who he’d handed it to, so wholly consumed by the revelation in front of him.

“Look at the third figure on the sand,” he whispered, pointing ahead to the exact spot. Wooyoung, Yeosang, and next to them, a particular apparition Mingi had all but lost hope of seeing in this life.

“He’s… alive.”

The final expanse of the shallows lay between them, glistening in the morning sun.

There he stood on the sand, smiling so softly with the light of the sea in his eyes.

“It’s Hongjoong.”

___

Taglist: @ddeonghwva @knucklesdeepmingi @serendipityunho @atzjjongbby @ley-writes

A/N: WOW! It's been a whole year since I've published anything across all my works (aside from my late crossposting)-- who would've thought finishing a degree, starting a master's degree, and a whole lotta writer's block would get in the way to this extent lol.

Readers past, present, and future; whether you're returning to this story post-hiatus or tuning in for the first time, thanks for being here. This chapter concludes volume 4 and that means there's just one left which I have big plans for and hope you'll enjoy!!

Let me know your thoughts, reactions, questions, praises, protests, everything! I'd love to know who's still here. And reach out to me on twitter (or whatever it's called now haha) where I'm a bit less active than I have been but certainly still around :)

Thx again my lovely crew, and buckle up for Volume 5 :D

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[snzysimper]

FINALLY!! I haven’t posted a fic in AGES. Apologies for that. This is probably the longest thing I’ve ever written. I’m really proud of how this turned out. It took me a while, but I hope it was well worth the wait for everyone. This is the re-write of this fic. I tried to keep it loyal to the original, but also make it better.

Note: I had everything italicized and shit, but tumblr is stupid and doesn’t keep it when it gets copy pasted from a google doc so I’ll go back and fix it later. For now, you can just use your imagination because I am to lazy to do it rn.

Another note: not that this really matters, but Security Breach doesn’t exist in my AU, so first of all, no ‘Burntrap’ and also no SB Vanessa. I much prefer the fan made version from Help Wanted, so that is who I use in my fics and such, but feel free to portray it however you like. She just looks better. Feel free to look at some fan art else where.

A Warm Surprise

A Will/iam x Van/ny Snz Fic

Written by SnzySimper

Word Count: 1950

TW: Spray, Snz (ofc), mentions of deceased children (only briefly)

| I am allowed to write what I want and I would appreciate if you keep whatever rude comments you may have to yourself |

It is about 11 o’clock at night. The pizzeria was far past closing, which was 8 o’clock. One would generally expect for the place to be empty. Isn’t that how this works anyway? Starting in only one hour, the haunted robots spring to life and, well, you know the rest. But, no, not right now. We are far beyond that point. Long story short, after the closing and re-opening, new animatronics were made, and the Fazbear brand was re-started after someone bought the name. As of the current moment, a new man owns the name brand. Well, not quite. After escaping his presumably eternal hell, William Afton put his consciousness inside of a game, making himself nothing but a piece of computer code. With the help of an innocent bystander, he was set free into the world again and, under a new name, bought his company back. Who’s his partner in crime, you may ask? A young woman named Vanessa, or Vanny, as William usually calls her. His little reluctant follower, although she has become less reluctant as time has gone by. In fact, she had become much less of a follower and more of a friend. The two did most everything together. Were they themselves together? Well, no. Not right now, anyway.

Sitting down on a table, Vanny looked over towards the animatronics. They were powered off, as they should be. She and ‘Dave’ planned to keep it that way. No more vengeful ten year olds wanting to damn your soul. And hopefully not ever again. He didn’t have any reason to make it happen again. He had obtained his immortality, so why would he need to kill more children. It’s not like he needs the remnant. She glances around the pizzeria, not used to it being so empty and quiet. No sounds of children giggling and screaming. No music. Only the hum from the air conditioner. A bit creepy and unsettling to most, but she had come quite accustomed to it. She found it almost peaceful. It was silent, and peaceful, and not a single sound to-

“-gGGes’SSHHhss!!”

Slightly startled at the broken silence, Vanny looks up. She was alone in the pizzeria, minus her ‘boss’. It had to have been him. Come to think of it, had she ever heard him sneeze before? Being a computer code, she didn’t really think he could sneeze. Oh well. Who cares? A sneeze is a sneeze. No skin off her teeth. She pulls out her phone, not paying it anymore mind. “Hh’gGG’shhh!!..’Ggsshh!” Well, this was certainly interesting. It was strange enough for this to happen once, granted that it had never happened before. But three times? Curious to what could possibly be happening, Vanny hops off of the table to go and find him. It was getting to be time to head home, so she should go and get him anyway.

~~~~

“Hhhh…”

Sitting at his desk, William breathes heavily. He was happy that the day was finally over. He could just go home and fall asleep on the sofa. He crosses his arms and lowers his head, about to fall asleep in the chair. In front of him are blueprints for trying to fix SpringBonnie. Trying. Although he may as well just start from scratch. The suit itself is beyond repair, but the internal parts, or at least the springlocks, could possibly be salvaged. It would take a good bit of effort though. As the AC turns on, he shivers, wrapping his arms tightly around his chest. Was it usually this cold in the pizzeria? Or maybe someone had just messed with the thermostat. Who knows. Giving William the benefit of the doubt, he is a TWIG. The average weight for someone who is 7’2 is around 230. William is 190. One could say that this is due to him not eating much. He doesn’t see a reason why he should. As we have previously established, he’s already immortal. It isn’t like he can starve. Although, the occasional meal is nice. He slowly raises and tilts his head back, his breath hitching slightly. “hhHh’GGschh!!” Damn. Why is he so cold? Wiping his nose on the back of his hand, he sighs. Was it possible he could- no. No, no. He’s a piece of computer code for crying out loud; barely even able to be classified as a human being at this point. Being sick is completely out of the question.

Right?

It had been a long day of listening to the same 6 songs on repeat, children's laughter, and, worst of all, the smell of shitty cheap pizza. He was more than ready to go home by now. Vanny walks in the room, softly knocking on the door. “Mr. Afton?” She walks up behind him, and gently places her hand on his shoulder. Having completely zoned out, he jumps at the touch of her hand. She jerks her hand back. “M-Mr. Afton-! I’m so sorry, did I wake you?” While they were ‘friends’, Vanny’s voice still trembled whenever addressing him. She knew all that he had done in the past, and was terrified of what he would be capable of doing now that he was immortal and essentially invincible. William, however, didn’t respond in his usual manner. “Vanessa,” he gives her a small weak smile. He doesn’t face her directly. He simply looks back at her using only his eyes. His piercing, icy blue eyes. “It’s nearly midnight.” She wrung her hands. “Shouldn’t we be leaving soon?”

“Yes. Worry not, we will be heading out soo-”

He abruptly stops speaking. He looks a bit dazed for a moment before quickly bringing his hand to his face, pinching his nose. “Ht’nnt-!” It is almost silent. “Ht’nxxt!! ‘nxxT -nnt!” And again. “hhHt’nkkt!!”

“Bless you,” Vanny says softly. He lets go of his nose, which is now a warm pink, and sniffles as he wipes his nose on the back of his hand. “Hhh, thank…thank you.” At last, he turns in his chair to face her. Vanny is worried by the sight of him. His cheeks are a touch of pink, and so does his nose, although his nose is a brighter shade. The parts of his face that aren’t flushed somehow look even more pale than they usually do. The dark circles under his eyes are more noticeable than normal. Tiny droplets of sweat are present on his forehead. Almost by instinct, she reaches up and gently presses the back of her hand against his forehead. “Mr Afton, you look awful. Are you feeling alright?” Realizing that she literally just reached up and touched his face without any sort of warning, she panics and quickly tries to jerk her hand away. Before she can fully pull her hand away, William reaches up and presses the palm of her hand against his cheek, sighing happily. Vanny blushes, shocked by the intimate gesture. He closes his eyes and lowers his head. He looks very happy to say the least. “Your hand,” he says quietly. “It feels really warm. It feels nice.”

“Your face is very warm, too. And not in a good way.” She lets him hold her hand and uses her other hand to feel his forehead again, now assuming that he doesn’t mind her touching his face. “You have a fever. I’m sure of it.” She removes her hand from his forehead and moves his hair so it isn’t covering his eyes. “Mmhm,” he hums in agreement, although she is quite sure that he isn’t paying all that much attention to what she is saying. She laughs softly. “Come on, let's go home.”

Vanny helps walk him into the house. Leaving her side, William walks away and flops face first onto the couch. He looks pretty comfortable. Vanny giggles. She isn’t used to seeing him so relaxed. Usually when he interacts with others, he lacks much emotion and is very curt. Any time someone tries to care for him or assist him with something non-work related, he snaps at them to leave him alone. With her he is usually a bit more friendly, but not much. Tonight, he had been everything but that. He even smiled at her. Vanny walks over to the couch and sits down next to him. William helps himself and rests his head on her lap. She lets out a small squeak, shocked at the fact that he is being so affectionate. She sighs and begins gently scratching his head. He smiles. “We should probably get some medicine for you.” William hums softly. “I’m fiiine.” He closes his eyes, sighing softly. Vanny sighs. “Alright. If you say so.” She didn’t want to challenge him on anything, so as not to take his gentle and chill attitude for granted.

They are silent for a good ten minutes before William starts sniffling. Vanny looks down at him. He is rubbing his face with the back of his hand, his nose clearly irritated. William eventually gives up, deciding that his efforts to relieve the itchy tickling sensation in his nose are fruitless. He looks adorable, Vanny thinks. She gently presses the tip of his nose with her index finger. “h’EHshhSS!” Vanny jumps slightly. “Oh. Bless you.”

“Mmm..what was thah for?” He grumbles sleepily. “Sorry. You just looked so cute. Your nose was twitching like a little bunny.” Vanny giggles. William rolls over to face up at her, his eyes still closed. “Could you..do it again?” She is a bit surprised, and pretty confused. “What, why would you want-”

“My nose..it’s still itchy. I need to sneeze. Please…” He opens his eyes looking up at her, his eyes practically begging for her to do something. Vanny can’t help but feel bad for him. “Alright.” She takes her thumb and index finger and begins gently rubbing the sides of his nose.He sniffles a few times as she continues to gently touch his nose. “I-is this helping? Is it working?” He sniffles once again. “Y-yeah, snff, sorta.” Vanny moves from the sides of his nose to the base, just below his nostrils. “Oh- hihh right sndff there..” She continues rubbing his nose, a bit harder this time. William’s breath is hitching. He tilts his head back, before inhaling sharply. “Hh’Gggshhs!! HGg’essh!! EH-shhiis! Ht’chh ‘chtt!!” He tries his best to avoid spraying Vanny, although he still gets her a little. Vanny lifts his head off of her lap. “I’ll be right back. I’m gonna go find some tissues.” She quickly rushes out of the living room to go and search for tissues.

William sits up, holding his nose shut as he continues to sneeze wetly. “hMP’tchh! Ht’CHH!! T’chh k‘chh -gSHH!!” Vanny comes back with a box of tissues and sits back down on the couch. She hugs William, leaning him back in her arms. She holds the box of tissues out in front of him. He quickly grabs one and holds it up to his face. “H’ppshh!! Hh’IISHH!!” He sighs, having been able to finally catch his breath. He rubs his nose with the tissue. His nose is revealed to be much more pink than it was before. He sniffles, draping his arms on Vanny’s shoulders, holding on to her like a sloth. He rests his head on her shoulder, closing his eyes. “ I’mb sorry sndDF for..snff sneezigg on you.” Vanny chuckles softly. “It’s alright. I don’t mind.” She rubs his head and begins playing with his hair. Laying down, she holds onto William and hugs him close. “Try and get some sleep, alright?” William hums in response. It isn’t long before she hears him softly snoring. She smiles, kissing the top of his head. “Sleep well, Mr. Afton.”

[biohazard-4ever]

Hello, hope you are doing well. So hear me out. A random idea has been going through my mind again about Leon and Claire’s children. Imagine they have children older boy and then a younger girl. But when the girl is born she gets taken away by someone who has a grudge against Leon. So when they reunite the girl has been through the rough times and has seen the worst of the worst. So she doesn’t even acknowledge her father’s presence really. So what do you think would be Leon’s reaction. Would he give up on her or not? If this is weird please feel free to ignore it but some day I will have this on paper.

First of all: Leon would never give up. Not on people, even less on his own daughter. Leon is a Human-People. A protector. And even when the situation sounds impossible, he will make sure that at least everyone else will escape, even if he ends up getting himself killed.

As someone also traumaticized by all this Bio-terrorism fight, seeing his own daughter become a victim of it would kill him (not literally, but certainly would bring back a very jumpy and defeated Vendetta Leon into play)

Leon would be angry at everybody (minus Claire and their children, ofc, for him his family is a victim. HIS victim because he keeps fighting in this war), he would potentially become very "selfish" in the eyes of others, because he would not do anything anymore for others. Only for his family.

In small words: GUILTY.

Leon would feel massive guilty... He'd keep thinking about is as his fault. Track back to all his "mistakes". Maybe he wasn't there. Why was he away? Or, Why did he had to be asleep?! Why did he SURVIVED RC?! If he didn't, his daughter wouldn't have suffered what she did!

I think this plot has a lot of potential and filled with nice angsty. Probably going to end with a REALLY heartfelt redemption about Leon learning to forgive himself and embracing his own gift of life as something important!

Because if he were not alive... Neither would his children be. And he loves them. So, now Leon knows it -, it is worth. His life is worth.

Maybe some marriage drama! Leon and Claire needing to fix their own relationship, too.

Leon falling into disgrace again VENDETTA style.

Claire working as his pillar and later on, needing him to do the same for her which he masterfully does.

You know

Leon finding a meaning and a reason for his reason to live and to be here.

[archduke-enver-gortash]

I'm afraid but 17 and 23 for Zeke?

17. What is the worst thing you have put your OC through story-wise?

letting him meet gortash. there’s literally horrific things happening endlessly in their subsequent time together of course but that was the catalyst of it all. gortash staking his claim. the first arrow sent flying in the war. it’s that whole culmination of gortash’s conquest that is ruining zeke. so i truly can’t just pick one event. but also i am at a point where i’m like ok how do i pass judgement on what is worse between things like ‘engraving his initials in his heart’ and ‘forcefeeding him the corpse of someone he was getting close with that he manipulated him into violently killing’ and ‘keeping a canvas of the teeth he pulls from zeke as a trophy’ like. i dunno man!!!

23. What emotion is the hardest for your OC to process? How about express?

it’s the same emotion for both of these: kindness! i talked about how he is drawn to people who have a ‘i can fix him’ attitude towards him, but that does not mean that he can deal with it appropriately. at first, he’d question your motives—believes that you’re lying, that you’re manipulating him, or trying to harm him in some way and you know how zeke is: he makes this abundantly clear and spits (sometimes literally) on people who are trying to help him. later on when his mental state starts deteriorating again he physically abuses shadowheart and ultimately tries to kill her. he feels as if he does not deserve it deep down—he has been only ever been given rewards and nice words for doing something right. for being father’s chosen. which is why he has this deep competitive acidity towards people—he needs to prove to himself that he is deserving. the one thing zeke craves above all else is approval, kindness and love but it’s not something meant for him.

there’s also this thing of like. pre-game, the only person he ever spent more time with besides the people in the temple was gortash. his “kindness” his “gifts” WERE given with the intent to ruin. gortash cuts his hair, gives him jewelry and clothes to take over him in these small but not any less meaningful steps. zeke, especially with these small acts, does not even realize it consciously (9 wis. man) but it doesn’t affect him any less subconsciously.

and expressing? god, we all know what a massive cunt zeke is. he genuinely can’t do it. he’s not even sure if he can love. when gortash was briefly forgotten and shadowheart really showed him that he fucked up, he would sneak in her tent and put a night orchid on her pillow. he cannot do it verbally at all even then. and when she addresses it the next morning he tells her to fuck off and that he’d never do something like that. but also. deep down zeke does know that he is not a person. that he can’t do ‘love’. he is the urge. he is the eye. he is the hunt. he is the wild. even these little acts are like daydreams. trying to mend those ruins into something shaped like a man. that however is one thing he certainly will never be.