#he genuinely looks identical in transformation and out of it he did not change anything except for the colors

[bittersweetresilience]

witness him. witness him. witness him. witness him. witness him

[casscainmainly]

Duke Thomas and the Robin Mantle

There's been some minor discussion about whether Duke counts as an 'official' Robin or not. While that discussion is interesting, I actually don't think it's the crux of the Duke and Robin issue. To me, the question is whether or not he should be Robin. And, to me, the answer is definitively yes.

This is purely my opinion, and I haven't read every single Duke comic so it's possible I've misread/missed things. Any Duke fans, absolutely feel free to add or disprove anything here!

The Changing Robin

The first thing to understand is that Robin, as a mantle, has shifted with each person it's been passed to. Tim's Robin doesn't mean the same thing as Jason's Robin, which doesn't mean the same thing as Damian's. A mark of a true Robin is the ability to shift the meaning of Robin by wearing the colours.

Duke absolutely fulfils this criteria. In fact, him and his We Are Robin crew are the biggest shift in the meaning of Robin since its creation.

Cover from We Are Robin #1. The phrase "We're not sidekicks. We're an army!" signals the shift from Robin as individual to Robin as collective; from Robin as tied to the singular Batman to Robin as a wider movement, a socio-political force. The last question, "are you ready?", is vitally important as well. Duke as Robin is meant to be different. He's meant to be non-normative, a groundbreaking turn in what Robin looks and feels like.

At the end of the first issue, a disguised Alfred (who started We Are Robin) thinks the following:

Alfred infuses the phrase "of color" with two meanings: the Robin colours, and People of Colour. By explicitly linking Robin to POC, the comic is suggesting that not only can kids of colour be Robin, but that they should be Robin. Robins of Colour are the "future of this city," and Duke is the vanguard of this future. It's no coincidence that the Robin before (Damian) and the one after (Maps) are both POC. Duke, however, is the Robin that gives the mantle an explicit direction towards diversity: him and WAR use Robin as a social movement, and in doing so transform the colours of Robin into a symbol for the diversity in Gotham and the world.

Robin as Collective

Duke doesn't change Robin alone. The point of We Are Robin is that Robin is a collective, and it's important that Duke doesn't start WAR (as much as people like to say he did). By joining late, the comic demonstrates that Duke is part of a bigger movement.

The Robin community represents POC solidarity, the necessity and ability of the oppressed to band together. Lee Bermejo ends We Are Robin's final issue with "stress on the word "we"" - Duke's arc, in one sense, is learning to rely and work with others (he initially mistrusts basically everyone). The WAR community is essential to both Duke's character development and his tenure as Robin.

So to have this page, affirming his loyalty and love for them, to be followed immediately by them being written out is... something.

Duke appears next in Batman: Rebirth, where Bruce gives him the yellow suit and tells him he's not looking for a Robin. As soon as he stops being Robin, the community around him quite literally falls apart. Izzy sticks around for a bit but fades into obscurity, Riko and Dax turn evil, Dre ends up in Arkham - all of these fates are antithetical to these characters and genuinely tragic.

Batman: The Secret Files: The Signal is possibly the worst Duke story in existence, but it's important to understanding why Robin!Duke mattered. Riko calls Signal 'Bat-Signal', highlighting his sudden reduction to a Batman acolyte. His friends turning on him shows how, by losing Robin, he also lost the community formed by WAR. In every way, his transition into the Signal was saturated by loss.

Robin Doesn't Need A Batman

Bruce giving Duke the Signal suit is borderline insulting. He already had an identity predicated on the fact that he didn't need Batman.

From Batman (2011) #45, Batman: Rebirth, and Night of the Monster Men. "Robin doesn't need a Batman" is an inversion of Tim's 'Batman needs a Robin' - in many ways, Duke is the opposite of Tim, who's rich, White, and whose Robin is the most focused on helping Batman. If Tim is the ideal Robin-as-partner, Duke is the ideal Robin-as-individual. His idea of Robin is not, and has never been, associated with Batman.

People who say Duke isn't an official Robin since he was never Batman's partner miss the point. He is Robin because he was never Batman's partner. That's what Robin means to him - a mantle free from Bruce and all authority.

"Batman is on the gargoyle. Robin... Robin is on the street." Robin is the person on the ground, who lives and belongs to the people. When Duke becomes Signal, this ground aspect - as well as his separation from Batman - is gone.

In this cover from Batman & The Signal, they gave him a Bat symbol and put him on a gargoyle. They erased every single part of his Robin philosophy.

The Original Robin

Post-We Are Robin, Bruce becomes the Batfam member Duke interacts with the most. Besides the insult of Bruce withholding Robin, this fact also strips away one of my favourite aspects about early Duke - he was tied to the Batfamily through the Robins (especially Damian and Dick), not by Batman.

It's Dick, the original Robin, who chooses him.

Dick recognises that him and Duke have a lot in common. He tells Duke in Robin War that he's "got it," and that he's a natural leader - Dick knows Duke has what it takes to be Robin, and explicitly endorses him.

Not only that, but when Dick sends Duke to jail (along with the other Robins, official and unofficial), he tells Duke that he "take[s] care of [his] family". He basically inducts Duke into the family then and there!

Dick's endorsement of Duke makes it more interesting that Bruce doesn't make him Robin. Despite Duke's disillusionment at the end of Robin War (dispelled soon after in WAR), the events in RW confirm that Duke can and should be Robin. Bruce not making Duke Robin is defying both Duke's potential and Dick's right to choose Robins.

Robin as Family

On the rooftop in Robin War, Dick tells Duke that Robin is about family. This is the fundamental connection between them both: Robin acts as the link to the families they've lost and gained.

For Dick, Robin keeps John and Mary Grayson alive, while also symbolising his connection to Bruce. For Duke, Robin is the intersection of three families: the heroic legacy of his parents, the tight-knit community of We Are Robin, and the newfound friendship of the Batfamily.

In Batman (2011) #45, Duke tries to give his friend Daryl a Robin badge. He says, "you and me, we came up together. We're fam[ily]." Even before Dick, Duke associated Robin with family, and Daryl implies in the next issue that Duke became Robin because of his parents' inclination to help. Signal, of course, also comes from his mom; but unlike Robin, Signal isn't a legacy mantle. As Robin, he constantly inducted people like Daryl, Riko, Damian, etc. into his family. As Signal, his circle shrinks immeasurably, until it's really only the Batfamily and the Outsiders if we're being generous. (Daryl also turns evil - a really unfortunate pattern for Duke side characters).

Lark and Conclusion

I'm going to end with this panel from Batman & The Signal #1, which is emblematic of the way DC has treated Duke and Robin as a whole. Bruce tells Duke that Lark is "too soft" a name. DC was probably debating between Lark and Signal, but it's telling what they went with. How is Lark too soft, exactly? How is it any softer than Robin?

By overtly dismissing the bird-like name, Bruce - and DC editorial, or whoever decided this - is definitively moving Duke away from Robin. And it's a shame. In Duke's transition from Robin to Signal, he has next to no agency. Bruce tells him he's not Robin, Bruce gives him the suit, Bruce tells him not to be Lark, Bruce gives him another suit. It's a stark contrast from his induction into Robin - though Alfred arranged it, he gave Duke a choice. Duke chooses Robin.

Duke being disallowed the Robin mantle is, to me, on par with DC stripping Cass of the Bat symbol during the New 52. The racism behind both these decisions cannot be overstated - both Cass and Duke redefined their mantles, and their mantles defined them. At least Cass' mistake has been corrected, and lots of writers and fans acknowledge how horrible that period was. For Duke, he was never given a real chance. And it's unlikely he ever will be.

This is not a knock against the Signal identity or any writers. However, it genuinely saddens me to think that all of this story potential - Duke's redefinition of Robin, his relationship to Dick, his connection to We Are Robin, and above all his ability to choose who he wants to be - has been neglected and cast aside. Even if they never acknowledge his role as Robin, I hope future stories centre him once again, because it's what he deserves.

[bodyswappertransforming]

Every Monday, Samantha trudged into the office, her spirit weighed down by the monotony of her life. She was tired of being invisible, of being the woman no one noticed. It wasn’t just her plain looks; it was the aura of unremarkability that seemed to cling to her. She longed for the thrill of being pursued, of feeling desirable.

One Monday morning, in a moment of frustration, she whispered a wish to the universe. “I wish I was a good-looking Latin man, the kind that all women want.” She laughed at herself afterward, but a part of her clung to the hope that something, anything, might change.

The Bar

The next thing she knew, she was in a dimly lit bar, the scent of cigar smoke thick in the air. Samantha looked down at herself and gasped. She wasn’t in her own body. She was shorter, her frame trim and athletic. Her hands, now larger and more muscular, held a cigar. She brought it to her lips, feeling the soft bristles of a neatly trimmed mustache and beard.

She caught a glimpse of herself in a mirror behind the bar. Her reflection showed a strikingly handsome Latin man with sharp, groomed hair and a confident smile. The transformation was astounding. Instead of feeling confused or frightened, a rush of power and confidence surged through her. She felt sexy, powerful, and irresistibly alive.

Samantha—or rather, the man she had become—took a deep drag from the cigar, reveling in the rich, smoky flavor. It was intoxicating, as if the cigar were an extension of her new identity. She exhaled slowly, watching the smoke drift upward, and then turned her attention to the room.

Her eyes landed on a woman sitting alone at the end of the bar. She was stunning, with dark hair cascading over her shoulders and a smile that lit up the room. Samantha felt an unfamiliar, exhilarating sense of boldness. She stood up, her movements smooth and confident, and made her way over to the woman.

“Mind if I join you?” she asked, her voice deep and smooth.

The woman looked up, her eyes widening slightly with interest. “Not at all,” she replied, her voice warm and inviting.

Samantha sat down, positioning herself casually but confidently. She introduced herself as Alejandro, a name that seemed to fit perfectly with her new persona. They began to talk, and Alejandro found himself effortlessly charming, his words flowing with an ease and wit that Samantha had never known.

As the night went on, Alejandro felt more and more at ease in his new skin. The woman, whose name was Isabella, was clearly captivated. She laughed at his jokes, leaned in closer as they spoke, and touched his arm lightly. For the first time in her life, Samantha felt the thrill of being desired, of having someone genuinely interested in her.

When the bar began to empty out, Alejandro offered to walk Isabella to her car. She accepted with a smile, and they stepped out into the cool night air.

The Encounter

Standing by her car, Isabella looked up at him, her eyes sparkling. “I had a great time tonight,” she said softly.

Alejandro smiled, feeling a surge of pride and affection. “So did I,” he replied.

Without thinking, they leaned in, and their lips met in a deep, passionate kiss. Alejandro felt a rush of sensations—Isabella’s soft lips against his, the warmth of her body pressing into him. The kiss deepened, and he felt a stirring in his groin, a sensation both alien and thrilling.

As they continued to kiss, Alejandro’s arousal grew. He felt his penis begin to harden, a pressure building that was unlike anything Samantha had ever experienced. The sensation was intense, a combination of warmth, tightness, and a pulsating need. The erection pressed insistently against the fabric of his pants, demanding attention.

Isabella seemed to sense his desire. She broke the kiss and looked into his eyes, her own filled with a mix of lust and curiosity. She took his hand and led him back to her car, opening the door and sliding into the back seat. Alejandro followed, his heart pounding with anticipation.

Once inside, Isabella reached for him, her hands exploring his body with eager curiosity. Alejandro’s breath caught as she unbuttoned his shirt, her fingers tracing the contours of his chest. The sensation of her touch sent shivers down his spine, heightening his arousal.

She moved lower, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants. Alejandro’s erection sprang free, and he felt a surge of pleasure as she wrapped her hand around it. The touch was electrifying, sending waves of sensation coursing through his body. He groaned softly, the pleasure almost overwhelming.

Isabella looked up at him with a seductive smile. “I’ve been waiting for this all night,” she whispered.

Alejandro’s response was a primal growl of desire. He pulled her closer, their bodies entwining as they gave in to their mutual passion. The sensations were unlike anything he had ever imagined—intense, powerful, and deeply satisfying. He felt every movement, every touch, with a vividness that left him breathless.

They moved together in a rhythm as old as time, their bodies communicating in ways words never could. Alejandro’s arousal peaked, the pleasure building to a crescendo that left him gasping. When the release finally came, it was explosive, a torrent of sensation that left him trembling with satisfaction.

They lay together afterward, their breathing slowing, their bodies entwined. Isabella rested her head on his chest, a contented smile on her lips. Alejandro held her close, feeling a profound sense of fulfillment.

For now, Samantha was Alejandro, and Alejandro had experienced a night of passion and connection she had always longed for. The future was uncertain, but at this moment, everything was perfect.

[novantinuum]

Fandom: The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom Rating: G Words: 1.9K~ Summary: heart•song (n.): An expression of our most inner being, identity, and reason for existence – what twists and turns of life have led us here, to this dangerous place? And by what strength do we keep enduring? - Or: For a sage to give one their vow, first there must be vulnerability. (A collection of shorts exploring the bond between each sage and Link.)

Yunobo is my OTHER little scrunkly rock boy ;w;

Enjoy!

____

The blunt reality of the sweltering, hellish place he finds himself in this afternoon still brings him pause.

A volcano.

He— Yunobo— jumped straight into the actively erupting maw of a freakin’ volcano. What in Darunia’s cliff-splitting name was he thinking, goro?

It’s not that he doubts he can handle whatever Death Mountain can throw at him— he’s been really practicing with his swings lately, and of course the fiery roll attack he developed will be a huge boon to their offensive arsenal— it’s that he took the leap without sparing even a single thought towards all the potential consequences first. The old him… the cowering but practical him… wouldn’t be caught half molten making such impulsive decisions. The old him would’ve waited on the rim, would’ve watched Link paraglide down into the Depths with a solid wall of anxiety clawing at his core, chained to the surface by the fears of his own timidity and inexperience. Yet somehow, this time, not a single one of those thoughts even briefly skimmed across his consciousness. Instead all he could think about were the faces of his fellow brothers. His people’s plight… hijacked by their bottomless craving for marbled rock roast, wholly uncaring of all the pressing needs of their youth and elders. Oh, this is a mess, all right… and one that his own foolishness caused.

So this time, with the wellbeing of his city at stake, not only did he take the leap; he leapt first.

And isn’t that what courage is supposed to be? Shouldn’t this be a good change? It probably is, but if so, then… why does he still feel so icky inside?

Yunobo continues to pace across the course sands scattered in concentric circles beneath the lightroot his companion activated just now. He wishes he could find it within him to relax like Link is— sitting cross legged under the root’s regenerating aura as he works to tighten one of the strings on his bow— but instead his mind keeps returning to that damn mask… to the glamor he escaped from under the thumb of only hours ago. At this point, he can barely remember anything from his time under its sway. But with the way young Slergo and Offrack looked to him with such worried relief when he came to, and what little context he gleaned from them and his Hylian friend… plus the distant glimpse he caught of his city while riding up the side of the mountain… things must have been bad. Really, really bad.

Out of nervous habit, he grinds his molars together unnecessarily hard as he continues to chew over this puzzling quandary. How could he let any of this happen? He genuinely thought he was becoming a better leader. A positive role model actually worthy of all the affection and encouragement his two little tagalongs constantly supply. Maybe, though, he hasn’t grown as much as he hoped. Maybe he’s always destined to be a bumbling screw-up. Maybe he’s—

“Yunobo.”

His friend’s voice cuts through all the murk and mire like it’s little more than the thin, newly hardened crust of a cooling lava flow. Humming in idle curiosity and ceasing his paces, his attention snaps towards the Hylian’s face.

“What’s eating at you?” Link manages to coherently sign through the thick glove of his volcano-proof armor, his expression blown wide with palpable concern. His weapon lays momentarily forgotten at his side.

“I—“ he scratches at one of the patches of hardened stone jutting out form the back of his neck— “I guess I’m just thinking about what I can’t remember. Which… means I’m thinking about nothing? Or everything. Gah, I don’t know. It’s… all so confusing.”

Heaving a large sigh, he finally resolves to park himself on the ground. Just for a few minutes. Just until Link’s had enough time to recover from that last camp of lizalfos they had to take care of and fix his bow.

“But if you really wanna know,” he continues, “then I guess what’s actually bothering me is just… that mask. And the fact it could control me like that so easily. Am I…” he pauses, his brows scrunching inwards amidst the thick coils of shame he suddenly feels brimming within, “really that weak-willed, goro?”

“You were tricked,” Link responds in a few swift motions, his expression softening with empathy. “Your agency was stolen from you. That’s never the victim’s fault.”

“But I shouldn’t have been a victim in the first place!” Yunobo blurts out, throwing his arms in the air. “I’m Daruk’s descendant, so everyone’s always counting on me to be the strong one, and I—“

His voice cuts.

There’s a thousand clamorous words piling up behind the face of all this self-directed anger, but no easy way to vent them out. No way to truly make sense of them all unless he digs deep within himself and starts asking the big questions:

What is he really ashamed about?

He sinks into himself, his volume dropping lower. Meeker.

“…and I just hate always feeling so helpless,” he admits, truly feeling the weight of such a statement as he droops his head low. “My brothers need me right now, and I’ve been letting them down. I’ve been letting them down for a really long time…”

Link purses his lips, thinking for a moment.

“Do you wanna know something?” he eventually signs.

“Yeah, goro?”

“Even I feel helpless at times.”

“Wha— really? You??” Yunobo says, his tone unbelieving. “But you’re Link! You’re the hero of all of Hyrule! You never give up for anything!”

He shrugs. “Trying your best to do the right thing doesn’t mean you never feel helpless.”

“Huh. That’s… actually a good point.”

“When I…” his friend inhales deeply, taking a quick moment to center himself before continuing. “When I lost Zelda, and lost my sword, and woke up alone in the sky, it was hard to not feel that way. But—“ he gazes out towards the vast ruins looming in the distance, nestled against the side of a cliff beyond a cluster of bokoblin encampments and a rather majestic lava fall— “life moves on. Sometimes all we can do is move on. Our enemy is powerful— ungodly powerful. So how is it fair to blame ourselves for falling victim to its influence? How is it fair to assume we need to fight this alone, when the enemy is backed up by an entire army of monsters?“

The faint glimmer of fire in the ruins up ahead easily draws his attention as he churns over what Link is saying. This forgotten fortress— forged of igneous stone that looks to have been mined directly out of the heart of Death Mountain herself— is unquestionably of Goron make, and unquestionably ancient. And given its locality, resting this far beneath the familiar slopes of Eldin, the only historic setting he can possibly connect with it is—

Gorondia.

It has to be.

Even thinking the name fills his soul with a swell of unspeakable awe, like a succulent bite of half molten rock roast warming his body from the inside out.

It’s the lost city of an era long past. The crown jewel of endless centuries of Goron artistry. A place so steeped in legend that it was only ever mentioned in the context of make-believe and fairytales. And yet he managed to find it anyways! Him! Cowardly ol’ him! Despite all the odds stacked against this quest (a two person quest all the way through, far different than last time), Yunobo succeeded where generations of Goron scholars failed, and he wasn’t even trying to unearth old history. All he wanted to do was make up for the damage he caused, but then— following in Link’s courageous footsteps— one thing led to another, and now they’ve fought their way through all the terrors of the depths right to Gorondia’s doorstep, vying to liberate his people from gloom’s control altogether. It really goes to show just how much one can accomplish with a friend by their side.

Link, for the record, seems to agree.

“This war is not one man’s fight, and I’m done with pretending otherwise,” he continues, briefly pausing as he uses his hands to push himself back up to his feet. “It’s teamwork and goodwill between regions that aided me in ending the Calamity, and it’s that same kind of companionship that will save us now. I helped you, and now you’ll help me, and if we work together with the rest of Hyrule, I truly believe we can stop this calamity too.”

He clasps his hands together, large rocky nails scraping along his inner palm.

“I… I think that’s the most words I’ve ever seen you say at once, goro,” he says with a soft chuckle. “You’re really passionate about this, aren’t you?”

Link bobs his head in an affirmative.

“Well—“ he picks himself off the ground and trundles to his feet as well— “even if I do still feel out of place, it’s pretty amazing that we’ve made it this far, huh?”

The barest corner of his mouth tilts upwards. “I couldn’t have made it here without your support.”

“And I still would’ve been dealing marbled rock roast to all my brothers if it weren’t for you showing up! I guess we have a lot to thank each other for, huh?”

A rush of emboldened warmth surging all the way from his dense, molten heart to his furthest extremities, Yunobo glances at the road behind, at the winding path they took from the chasm’s opening all the way up to this very lightroot at the highest rim of Death Mountain’s lake. Link’s right. It truly is a wonder, how far they’ve journeyed together. Companionship… all the connections he’s nurtured with folks of all shapes and sizes these past few years… they’ve forged him into the dependable, occasionally courageous (he’s still working on that) Goron he is today. Connection makes them all stronger. Knowing Link has made him stronger. Not too long ago, back when he still hid idly behind his ancestor’s protection, he wouldn’t have been caught dead leaping into the maw of a volcano, let alone working to infiltrate a whole ancient Goron city overflowing with monsters.

But things have changed. He’s changed. He doesn’t need Daruk to shield him anymore, because he’s got his own fire stirring within. That fire is what drove him towards a position of leadership in his city, and— in both a figurative and a literal sense— it’s what’s led him here into the deepest caverns of the Depths today.

So he can’t let himself give up after coming so far, no how, no way! His brothers need him right now. And he needs them. His fault or not, his earlier influence tipped his home into complete disarray, but by Din’s eternal light he swears he’ll be the one to fix it.

Together… hand in hand with his most loyal friend.

Freeing the remainder of his stressors within a deep, sonorous sigh, he bends down to grab the leather wrapped hilt of his most cherished weapon, a Boulder Breaker Link himself passed on to him that used to belong to the great Daruk.

“I’m ready when you are, goro,” he says, hefting the sledge over his shoulder and clenching his opposing palm into an assured fist.

He’ll see this quest through to the end this time, he swears it.

[badoggie]

Reader X chamber! (Valorant)

M-rating for heavy themes

Summary: Angel has been experiencing a new terrible phobia...

But Chamber won't let the paranoia consume her, he forces her to face her fears and prove to her once and for all that there's nothing to be afraid of.

Everytime an enemy entered your sights you never hesitated. What looked like a friendly face, and a pull of the trigger. A copy of your friend, people who felt like family, and the pull of a trigger. Your own face on a copy, and the pull of a trigger.

Even if they had his face, you never hesitated.

All the fighting had started to inspire a new fear in you, what would stop you from killing someone you cared for?

It would be easy, you were already used to it.

It would be over in the blink of an eye. You could pull the trigger and put an end to someone who was identical to your enemy.

What's stopping you from-

“Mon ange, you got them all…”

A delicately accented voice manages to slip past the anxious catastrophizing. He whispers to you, the noise of all the fighting finally silenced. It only continues to exist inside your head.

You swallow, your hand tense, the tendons on your palm feeling stuck around the pistol on your hand. You look beyond it and see the slightly concerned face of Chamber, your sights trained on him.

He sees your eyes slowly come back into focus, a gentle smile slowly forms on his face and he reads your expression. His hands aren't raised, his shoulders aren't tense, he knows you would never do anything to hurt him or any of your friends.

He slowly starts to walk towards you, and your eyes widen, you quickly force your gun arm down and away from him, “I- Sorry, Vin.” You press a palm to your forehead, “Everything just happens so fast.” You let out a halfhearted chuckle, burying your real fears down as far as you can.

“Think nothing of it.” He says sincerely, “You did well. Thank you once again for watching my back, mon ange.” he carefully takes the pistol from your hand, and you're truly grateful to be rid of it.

You try to smile in return, but your forced carefree expression quickly sputters out back into a worried frown.

Chamber scans your face, you're not yourself. You haven't been recently, and it's easy for him to notice. Once you were someone he would often go to for conversation and company, and you still were, nothing would ever change that. But the woman he knew had been changed in some imperceivable way. You were still strong, you were still caring, but there was something else now, a deep seeded worry that he couldn't pinpoint. He didn't know how to help you yet, but he knew he wanted to find the problem, and correct it.

“Come, let us return to base. You deserve a respite, Ange.”

You follow Chamber, and as you're slowly surrounded by the rest of your friends you're distracted enough to forget your fears.

Chamber doesn't join in any of the conversation, comfortable enough to sit and watch in silence.

Once back at HQ, there's the usual gathering of a few agents around a table, Chamber watches over you, keeping track of how many comments you make, how many jokes you start, counting their frequency until he can see the calm take the place of the worry. He wonders to himself how he can capture whatever it is that coaxes back your old self and how he can replicate it.

Chamber leans onto his hand, his eyes still studying you, and you finally notice. Your laughs had been less genuine and more like brief moments of relief until the anxious quiet static settles back in your mind. You look over at Chamber, and it's quiet. You lock eyes, he doesn't look away, not perturbed in the slightest by the eye contact. He looks at you with fondness in his eyes but it's lost on you. You start to see his face, in front of the barrel of a gun, and the hand holding it is yours, always yours. And you don't feel any hesitation when you pull the trigger.

You flinch, as though a real barrel flash had blinded you, “Excuse me, guys.” You quickly push yourself up, and walk out of the noisy room. You exit as calmly as you can, you don't want to worry the others, and neither do they notice, but Chamber looks surprised as he watches you up and leave.

He clears his throat, and fixes his tie, leaving the table quietly without a word, something not uncommon for him so no one bats an eye.

The group continues talking, no one really notices the sudden departure of either of you. Only Jett and Sage think to themselves that something might be up, and they exchange quick glances, but they leave it alone for now.

Chamber follows you silently, a dark thought comes up that maybe he is the cause of whatever has been bothering you lately. He's never had you run from him like that. And what would he do if he were the cause? His thoughts swim desperately, he doesn't see what he could do other than to be away from you.

You finally stop your aimless pacing and find yourself in a quiet area outside HQ. Alone there's no reason to fear the intrusive thoughts of hurting someone else, but is that really how you want to live?

“Ange?”

“Vin?” You turn around to see Chamber, his eyes full of concern. You sigh, slightly disappointed and irritated at how easily he manages to catch you at your most vulnerable moments. He seems to be the one that is always there, always noticing when something is amiss.

You don't say anything, preoccupied with mentally beating yourself up at how you couldn't conceal your emotions well enough.

“Mon ange, I must admit I am tired of seeing you like this.” He says, walking towards you, “Just say what the problem is, just name it and I will do my best to make it right.” he says, frustration brimming in his words, he tries not to be angry, but it's starting to wear on him to see you suffering and seemingly adamant about keeping everyone else out of it. You're a team, and you had been the one to finally make Chamber see that.

“I can't, Vin. Just-” you sigh, “Its nothing, let me handle it. I can handle it.”

Chamber shakes his head, annoyance welling up inside of him, he tries to swallow it down.

He's reminded of when he first joined Valorant. He was the picture of arrogance but he at least had the skills to match. When on the battlefield he tried not to be distracted by his teammates and was more concerned with his marksmanship and kills, with wanting to prove to himself and his team that he was no less than a boon to everyone nearest to him.

And he received much praise, but not from you. And that irritated him. The only thing you had offered to him was suggestions on how he could better serve the team. He always brushed it off. You barely knew him! How could you possibly tell him what to do? He was a master at his craft, more than adept behind any weapon and you were coaching him? It was laughable, and laugh he did at most of your suggestions.

Until one day the humor of the situation was destroyed for him, a friend of yours was wounded from a position that Chamber should have been watching had he cared to listen to you, to fight not just for flashy offenses but to fight smart, to think like the enemy and defend against their rotations and advances.

And you criticized him harshly for it.

Chamber had looked to Brimstone that day, thinking he would correct you for being out of line, but he never did, he allowed you to show Chamber a piece of your mind.

You were right after all.

You had humbled him, something not many had managed to do, and it caused him to think deeper about his role by your side and as a member of a team. He had made sure to watch over you and the people you cared for more often after that. And having watched you for so long, you quickly became someone close to him, despite the bad first impression. But he didn't know that had endeared him to you all the more.

You had changed him for the better, made him a team player and a good friend and now you were asking him to ignore all of that and just leave you to fend for yourself? You don't get to take someone and force them to see that there's more at stake and then just ask them to abandon someone they care for.

“You really think I would leave you now? Ignore all I've seen and leave you exposed? Ange, I thought you knew me well.” He shakes his head, “You could ask almost anything of me, but this, I will not do.” He said confidently, holding a scolding finger up to you.

You shook your head, your face sad as you turned away from him. Suddenly you see the memory of how you acted earlier that day. Like you weren't in control of yourself, and you had leveled your pistol at Chamber. You felt like there was another person inside you, someone who could at any time decide they wanted to ruin your life and kill those who mattered to you most.

You feel hands tentatively grasp your shoulders, and the panic spikes, “Don't! Don't come near me.” you say, your voice straining.

“Ange, talk to me!” Chamber finally yells, his patience thinning.

You groan, your fingers anxiously running through your hair, “I- It’s you, Vin.” you finally say.

“Me?” He asks, his brows knitted together in confusions. And for a brief moment his heart sinks, a pit opening in his stomach that his fears may be true.

“It's you I'm most afraid of hurting.”

Chamber eyes you curiously, “Hurt me? Why would you ever hurt me? Mon ange, what could you possibly mean?”

“I…I don't know. I just- I have this…fear that if I could pull the trigger so easily on a copy…what would stop me from hurting any of you?”

“Darling, this would never happen. You could never do such a thing.”

“Why not? It's possible, there's nothing stopping me. What if I just snap from all the fighting and I just…” your eyes start to sting, tears welling up in your eyes, “I pointed a gun at you today.”

“I understand your fear,” Chamber says, his voice calm and soothing, he slowly moves in closer, trying not to spook you, “But I trust you, I know you, you are not so weak as to be violent on a whim like you fear.”

“I don't know…I feel like I don't know myself, how far I might go.” you clutch at yourself, wrapping your arms around yourself.

“I've seen the ferociousness you possess, mon ange. I cannot see how in any universe you would do something you didn't completely believe in.”

“I don't know if I can hold a gun again, Vin.” Your voice trembles.

You showed Chamber who he could really be.

“I will show you, you can.” Chamber responds.

Chamber suddenly pulls out a golden playing card, flipping it between his fingers with a flourish, your eyes following it. You barely notice when he drags a finger across his tattooed arm and summons up a pistol.

You shiver at the sight of it, “Don't. I can't. Not with you.”

“Would you prefer a different victim?” He smiles.

“Don't joke about this, Vincent.”

“Take the gun, hold it in your hand.”

“No, not doing that.”

“Take the gun, mon ange.”

You swallow, your head shaking stiffly before he shoves the gun in your hand, and you start to struggle against it, trying to pry your hand away.

He whispers, “Don't panic.” he adjusts your hand over the gun until you're holding it properly, eventually his eyes lock with yours, “Breathe, mon ange.”

His voice and his nearness are the only things keeping you grounded, you're scared of hurting him, but listening to him talk you through your anxiety keeps you from breaking.

“Breathe,” he continues, “Trust yourself, Angel.”

You swallow, your eyes anxiously scanning Chamber’s face, trying to understand the confidence he has in you. Your fingers feel tense around the handle of the gun, and all you can do is watch on in worry.

Then, when you thought he was done testing you, he angles the gun against his chest,the barrel pressing firmly against his heart as his hand holds your grip on the gun.

You feel like you might scream. You watch your hand be moved, you wait in horror for what feels like hours for a tragedy to unfold.

He gives you a small smile, “Nothing to fear.” He soothes, “Put your finger on the trigger.”

“Vincent, no.” You say harshly, nearly reaching your limit, “I'll kill you.” you whimper.

“You won't, darling.” He nudges your finger with his, “You'll see.”

“Don't. Vincent.”

“Just do it.”

“I can't lose you.”

“You won't, my love.”

Your finger ghosts over the trigger, leaning against the pulley. Your hand shakes with the death grip you have on the handle of the gun, your terrified eyes locked on Chamber’s somehow very calm ones.

Your body is screaming at you to pull the trigger, your mind reels at the feeling. It's so wrong, so intrusive, and your eyes clench shut.

There's silence for a second.

“Ange, look at me. Look at how I am still here.”

You open your eyes, your finger resting against the trigger. Your mind begging you not to pull it. And you don't. You don't and you never ever will, as long as Chamber is in front of it.

Your breathing starts to come out in harsh puffs, as if you had been holding your breath.

“Vincent?”

“I am still here, mon ange.” he whispers, his free hand snaking behind your ear, caressing your face as he slowly brings his face closer to yours. He places a tender kiss on your cheek, but doesn't move right away.

Your nose turns towards him, brushing his cheek. Chamber glances at your lips, then at you, before you take the chance to kiss his lips.

Chamber takes a deep breath, his free hand pulling you closer. The gun still digging in his chest, as you kiss him. Even with this distraction, there's no other you to take over and do the unthinkable.

Chamber deepens the kiss with a tilt of his head, his tongue swirling against yours as you press against him. Chamber's fingers tangle with your gun hand, slowly slipping the gun out of your hands and disappearing it. Once it's gone he finally wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer.

You stay like that for a while. Chamber coaxing shivering breaths from your body with his hands and lips. You feel closer to him, his scent and feel intoxicating. And you feel swept away by the moment, kissing him deeply you cling to him, finally feeling in control, you relish it.

Eventually you reluctantly pull away, you look at Chamber as you catch your breath, a look of genuine surprise on your face. But he meets you with a knowing gleam in his eyes, he never had any doubt, how could you hurt him when you know the way he feels about you.

“You see? If anyone sent me to the afterlife, it could never be you, mon ange. You like me too much.” Chamber smiles.

Your breathing has finally returned to normal, and you look down at your gun hand, they no longer feel treacherous, untrustworthy. They just feel like a part of you.

“Don't do that again, Vin.” You reply, half relieved, half still upset at this little stunt, and you lay a play punch on his chest.

“I needed to show you what you're capable of, angel. Reason would not be enough.”

You nod, “Maybe you're right. Thank you.”

“You've done more for me than I can count, mon ange, no need to thank me.”

“You're right, we're not even close to being even.”

“There she is.” Chamber smiles a bright smile before escorting you to your room.

[puckish-rogue-archive-deux]

I've been thinking about something very specific regarding Django, and it involves the day he woke up from his five year coma. I can't help but wonder how he felt once everything had settled down after his prison break, and he had a chance to see his own reflection. How did he feel? Was he able to recognize himself? I would imagine it'd be difficult to go from this kid who just turned 21, look into a mirror, and find what's practically a fully grown man staring right back at you.

I genuinely believe that would be the moment where everything hits him all at once. Not only would the passage of time be felt, but the uncertainty of his own identity as well. Among the obvious places where doctors had fixed up whatever numerous injuries he had received from the explosion, was this still Django Foley? Or was this someone entirely new. A different kind of beast than what was there before.

Identity is something that is very important to Django. He practically had no such thing growing up. No real sense of self, let alone any idea of what his place in the world might be. It's why he went out of his way to find himself, as silly and as cliche as that might be. He was frustrated and desperate to make sense of himself. And in doing so, he discovered something very very surprising. Something that he wasn't aware of until the Saints gave him that chance to let it out.

But how much of that was left behind after the botched assassination? Was the idea of Django Foley strong enough to leave behind something, anything that could be seen as a connection to his past. Or was this merely the next step in his transformation? He wasn't sure. He was confused. Sick to his stomach. Angry! So very angry over what had been done to him.

These are emotions that I think were essential to the way he would handle the resurrection of the Saints and the subsequent takeover of Stilwater. A key reason as to why he went to the lengths he did, and how those actions would continue to define him in the years to come.

It may have been years since waking up from his five year nap, but there's still plenty of baggage that The Boss has yet to sort though. Yet that begs the question; will he? As far as he's concerned, there doesn't seem to be a need to. What's done is done, and the most he can do is put up with those scars that will never heal. The ones that act as a constant reminder of the time he had lost, and the significant ways in which he has changed. For the better? For the worst? Don't bother asking him. He couldn't give less of a shit.

[forcebookish]

the fact that the one time ray took care of mew, ray ended up kissing him without his consent yikes 😬😬😬😬 that relationship is going to end soooo badly especially since I don't understand why suddenly mew wants to be with ray, I get that he's hurt but he's going to get together with RAY. when he even said that ray is "just not right" in the same episode. i hoped that he was playing ray but after the previews for the next ep, i don't think so 😭 but who knows at this point.

but the one thing I'm sure of is TOPMEW ENDGAME ‼️‼️‼️

you either die a normal viewer or live to become a crazy theorist😔 i too think mew is playing ray, anon. the worst part is that everything that i could say to explain why i think so sounds almost identical to all the stupid takes about mew being manipulative leading up to this 🫣🫣🫣🫣🫣🫣🫣🫣🫣🫣🫣🫣🫣🫣🫣🫣 i don't even want to say "hear me out" 😭😭 i AM going to get into it though.

let's start here: i'm not totally convinced that mew is going to actually do drugs. he might no longer be a "good guy" but it just seems like SUCH a pivot, and it doesn't seem like he's lost his senses or anything based on how meticulously he is planning out his revenge on boston. binge drinking? sure. he's still going through a breakup, i get that. and whatever this thing with ray is, ray's still going to be a bad influence. however, i'm hoping that this

is a red herring/not related to drugs, or at least that top is misunderstanding the situation. mew goes back on years of telling ray to stop using, scolding him for getting high at his birthday party, and specifically saying this to top?

which brings me to mewray. something is... off no i can't say that okay let's try again, i'm getting bad vibes FUCK I CAN'T SAY THAT EITHER ok ok

in the same episode that mew says this,

and, like you said, that ray wasn't "right," he suddenly changes his mind? it all just seems a little too... convenient for ray. mew is the one to bring up the subject about ray liking him, he seemingly says all the right things, all but dangles a relationship in front of ray, and even says THIS

which feels completely out of character, right? after years of telling ray that he's an addict and that mew can't stop him, not to mention that mew clearly believes that people should live their lives on their own terms and make their own choices,

he would go and blame himself for someone else's behavior? i don't buy it.

now we get to the why. i do think that mew is trying to take revenge on ray as well, but i feel like whatever he has in store would be excessive for just sharing the recording and ruining mew's birthday - i think ray might have done something else that we don't know about yet. for one, we still don't know who edited the audio not to include boston's coercion (or if that even comes up😭), or what is up with that sex tape that boston showed top. why was top so convinced it was real? something about it had to be real, and that must have been: ray. how did boston get ahold of a sex tape of ray?

and does boston think that it's real? or was he lying again here?

(it's possible that boston first told top that mew was a virgin just to discourage him and because it's what mew has been telling everyone, idk, i always thought that was one of the few times he wasn't lying but now i'm not so sure if he knew he wasn't lying🤔)

and now mew knows that there is a supposed sex tape of "him" and ray...

if it's just to "get back" at top, then i don't know what this dancing is about. i wish i knew how to put it, but mew just... doesn't look like himself here. i made a little post about this already, but doesn't he look and act more like he did with gap than he did during his genuine moments with top?

vs.

see? we know the look he has when he's actually horny/flirtatious and that just... isn't it. i know he's going through something right now, and it could all be part of his transformation into this "sexier" persona. but look at him when he's with gap. any time that gap isn't looking at him, he goes back to the mew that we've come to know.

and isn't it weird that he doesn't put his hands over ray's and the camera focuses on it?

what i'm saying is, when he's dancing with ray, mew looks like he has his game face on. he looks like he's "in character."

plus, i think mew may have a tell when he's being deceptive (and he's not the only character who has one):

I DON'T KNOW, ANON. THE BRAINWORMS COULD HAVE FOUND ME. MAYBE THIS FANDOM FINALLY MADE ME SNAP. I COULD BE TALKING NONSENSE. but i'm glad that i'm not the only one, and among the fans who don't think mew's been "evil" from the jump. thanks for enabling me😅🫶

AND TOPMEW ENDGAME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!💗💗💗💗💗

[dreamer-of-the-dark]

So like I adore the Bridgerton adaptation on Netflix don't get me wrong. How they did Anthony and Kate? Phenomenal. Absolutely out of this world.

Am I looking forward to season 3? Yes absolutely. And I'll eat it up I'm sure. I'm just sad that because of the format of the show and the pacing and steamy tension and romance, they actually almost completely disregard what Penelope's character actually was. In the books she got introduced a season too early, so she still had her teenage fat, her mother dressed her in colors absolutely not suited for her and thus how people perceived her was set. And when she matured and lost weight and changed her wardrobe, none of it mattered, because she was set in the minds of the ton.

And she becomes a wall flower for years! She is one last season away from being an old maid when her story happens. She has loved Colin for a decade and when he finally notices her, it's not because she gets her magical girl transformation and gets a random but influential suitor who makes Colin jealous. (As I've said, I'll eat it up in the show)

He notices her, because she's actually interested in his writing. Because she's a kind and genuine person. Because he likes her. And honestly that quiet sort of romance, that still manages to be steamy (carriage scene anyone) is so beautiful to me.

Another point is Lady Whistlddown. Because Penelope has started writing it during her first season and she is on her sixth? Seventh? Season during her book, the scandal over who the identity of Lady Whistlddown is has died down a bit. And until Colin follows her and finds out, no one knows anything. No one suspects. (On the other hand, Colin suspects Eloise and I doubt the letters between her and the baron will start this soon in the show). That's why it's so impactful when she announces it at the ball. Because she kept it a secret for ten years. And the ton has mostly forgot then but she hasn't.

Wow what a rant.

[ineffably-human]

Every time I see someone saying this episode "sacrificed character development for a laugh" or "was just mean-spirited" or anything else like that I want to gnaw my arm off. The idea that Marwa was there 'to be a romantic obstacle for Nandermo', holy shit no, this story is not about whether they get together or not - not yet.

Please, dear God, I am begging some of you to think for a second.

Think about how this season is about change and transformation.

Think about how Nandor (as a human) collected 37 spouses and remembers nothing about them. How he didn't conquer or colonize, he pillaged.

Think about "you found a way to make it about yourself."

Think about "you couldn't just let me have one thing."

(Think about "you can take care of yourself and you can take care of me.")

Think about Freddie becoming a literal mirror. (This is for another essay but no, Marwa is not still in there, that's the point.)

Think about how his dates with Nandor and Guillermo are identical, even though he's been long-term dating one of them for months and he met the other one that day.

Think about how we never hear him say 'I love you' back to Guillermo but he says it to himself.

Think about how Guillermo either lies about himself or just never talks about himself at all, during this whole thing.

Think about how Guillermo keeps promising and then failing to "look out for number one."

Think about how Nandor and Guillermo are so codependent their love interests consolidated.

Think about the one selfless act we see, and what it is, and from who. And why he does it. And how it genuinely hurts him to do so but he does it anyway.

Think about how this thing they did 'for jokes' was so painful they had to add an improv extended cut to the end.

Say all the very fair things you want about the other implications where Marwa's concerned, and like I said, that's another essay. But dear God no this episode was not pointless.

And it's meant to feel like a betrayal, and a rug pull. And it's also a necessary low point. This episode is the point.

[gladerwolfstarkimagines]

Imagine being the first person to tell Camilo he doesn’t need to constantly use his gift to be loved.

At first you didn't realise how difficult being a Madrigal could be. Having powers sounds all fun and games but when your worth is assigned to them it can quickly become toxic. Your self-esteem becomes attached to how useful you can be and when your gift literally gives you the ability to change every little thing about yourself...well that's an identity crisis waiting to happen.

You noticed Camilo used his gifts the most out of all his family. Whenever a situation could benefit however marginally from his powers he was there, volunteering without even needing to be asked. He did this for anyone, a stranger, family members and his friends which included you. You'd been friends since you were little and you couldn't think of a time Camilo hadn't volunteered to help you. As a child if you were sad Camilo would transform into a teacher and do silly things to make you laugh. When you had bad social anxiety as an early teen he offered to go to your classes as you and take notes. When you first got a job he transformed into several different customers and gave you glowing reviews to your manager. Camilo was always ready to give and change himself for whatever anyone needed and while you loved that quality about him it did make you worry.

You knew how important a person’s identity was and wondered how Camilo’s had developed when he was constantly changing who he was to benefit others.  You knew Camilo loved his gift but you’d also seen him when he let the mask slip. Camilo put on a brave face, after all he was the jokester of the family so what else could he do? But you’d seen first hand his self-esteem issues and how little he thought of the true version of himself. You wish he could see himself as you saw him and worried as you got older his identity problems get worse and worse. You couldn’t just let that happen, you had to try and help so you approached the topic with Camilo. 

"Have you ever gone a day without using your powers?' You asked one day as you were making your way to Camilo’s home. Already on the trip from town he’d used his gift 4 times for other people, largely unprompted. Camilo laughed "a day? I don't think I've ever gone an hour". You smiled but you couldn't bring yourself to laugh "does it ever get...tiresome?" you asked him. Camilo shrugged "sometimes...I mean I wish I didn't have as many chores and could just be a regular teenager". "No I mean the transforming. Do you like becoming other people or would you prefer to just be Camilo?". "Why on earth would I just want to be me?" Camilo asked and your heart broke. Camilo saw your reaction and rushed to explain "don't look upset all I meant was if I was me all the time I couldn't help people. But with my gift i can become taller or stronger, i can help calm crying babies or make people forget their worries for a bit with a laugh". You nodded "yes and that's all great but your purpose in life isn't just to help people...you deserve help too". Camilo blinked surprised and you genuinely don't think anyone had ever told him that. "I...I know that" he said finally but his voice sounded shaky. "However" he continued "I can help people and so I'm going to help as many as I can". You didn't say anything but Camilo could tell you were disappointed. "What's wrong?" he asked "don't you like my gift or something?". "No of course I do but I like you more" you said blushing. "Me? The plain me?" Camilo asked in shock. You shook your head "not the plain you, the authentic you. The original version, the perfect version" you smiled caught up in how much this boy meant to you. "When I look at you like you are right now I see the person I'm closest to in the world and so of course I wouldn't trade that for the strongest or tallest person alive. I don't need anything extra because you're Camilo. That's good enough for me". Camilo stared at you dumbstruck and you blushed. When he didn't say anything for a while you waved a hand in front of his face '"Camilo?" you called "did I break you?". Camilo blinked rapidly as if coming out of a trance and he looked at you "huh? Sorry i’m fine I was just thinking". "Have I upset you?" you asked "I didn't mean to insult your gift just let you know you're so much more than what you can transform into". Camilo smiled "of course I'm not upset I really appreciate what you said. Nobodies ever told me that before" he said placing a hand on top of yours "thank you y/n". "You're very welcome" you smiled and hugged him. Camilo's hand was still on your when you pulled away and you both looked at it before blushing.

After that something changed between the two of you but in a good way. When Camilo saw you he'd get a slight blush on his cheeks remembering what you said. He became more affectionate, not that he wasn't an affectionate friend before, but now he'd sit closer to you and you'd catch him watching you with a small smile on his face. He'd always panic when you caught him, blushing adorably and he'd look away only for the same thing to happen minutes later. Another important difference was Camilo's powers. Following your talk he stopped transforming around you as much. He typically always made himself slightly taller than he actually was and also changed his hair so it was calmer. However, you noticed he stopped doing that when you were alone. He was 100% his natural self and you thought he'd never looked more beautiful.

You both felt the change in our relationship from friendship to...something more and the tension built up between the two of you. Whenever you were alone you could feel it in the air as if it was palatable. Camilo’s family noticed it too. You were over at Camilo’s for an event the family threw every year and like usual you were by Camilo’s side. You were sat in the garden in your favourite spot which was hidden away from everyone and was like your own separate world surrounded by plants and flowers. You were chatting and laughing and even flirting a little. That was a new thing you and Camilo had been doing but you liked it and every time the two of you got bolder. When you were talking you noticed a petal had landed on Camilo’s beautiful curly hair and so you told him to hold still. You leant forward to pluck the petal from his hair carefully and smiled “there” only to realise Camilo was staring at you. You were only inches away from him and you felt glued there under his gaze. The two of you stayed frozen, looking at one another before Camilo’s gaze drifted to your lips and his cheeks turned even redder. He went to speak when you were interrupted. Someone knew about your hiding place. 

“What’s going on?” Isabela asked and you and Camilo flew apart, rushing to explain nothing was going on but the eldest Madrigal grandchild wasn’t having it. “Yes there is, something’s been going on between the two of you for a few weeks now. You’re totally different around one another and I can’t work out why...are you dating?”. You both went scarlet and Camilo jumped up “okay goodbye Isabela” and he escorted/pushed her from the room. He slammed the door shut and leant against it, breathing out in relief “thank god she’s gone”. You chuckled rather nervously and agreed “my thoughts exactly”. 

You and Camilo kept talking but you now felt like the tension was an unavoidable elephant in the room and figuring things couldn’t get any more uncomfortable Camilo had something he wanted to say to you. "Y/n I've been thinking lately" Camilo said and you looked up at him "yeah?". Camilo looked at you and his cheeks went pink again. "About what you said the other day...about my gift not defining me and how I'm enough and I just want to thank you. You have no idea how much your words have comforted me and they've been on my mind most days...as have you" he said watching you for your reaction. You blushed, smiling "I've been thinking about you a lot too Camilo". "That's good" he said encouraged and he continued. "The things you said about me...well I didn't just like them because they were kind things I needed to hear but well I liked specifically that you felt those things about me. That you saw me in that way and hearing you say all those things made me feel something". You felt a shiver run down your spine and you could hardly wait for Camilo to keep talking "ow?". "Yeah" he nodded "you're my closest friend too, the person who knows the most about me and is always there for me. Hearing that you like me just the way I am...well it's convenient because that's exactly how I feel about you. I like you y/n" he said finally "and I want to be more than friends with you". You smiled and Camilo smiled back hesitantly "okay a smile is a good sign I think". "Of course it is!" you cried "I like you too and honestly think I have for ages but just never worked in out until recently. I tried to be subtle about it this week but when it came to telling you how much I like the real you I failed miserably". Camilo laughed smiling "Yeah but in a good way. I've never heard you talk about anyone like that and it got me thinking and hoping...then this week every time I saw you my heart sped up and I got this tingling sensation. I knew I had to do something about it or I'd explode and so here we are". "Here we are" you smiled tracing his hand and Camilo took in the beautiful scenery of his home and village to the wonderful girl sitting in front of him. You both leant in at the same time and met in the middle, you really were a lot alike.

All evening the two of you stayed on your balcony listening to the party below. Camilo had his eyes closed and rested his head on your shoulder. You leant your head against his and traced his hand over yours. Camilo was the most relaxed you'd ever seen him and he wasn't trying to be anything but himself. He was just being and you loved it. "Y/n" Camilo said suddenly and you nodded "yes?". "Tomorrow I'm going to tell my family I want to take a step back from my duties. I want to work out who I really am and what my identity is. Does that sound...stupid?". "Not at all!" you said protectively "I think it sounds like a brilliant idea and I'll help you in any way I can". Camilo smiled leaning into you more “obrigada meu amor" he said, his voice slightly muffled as he nuzzled into you. You laughed and enjoyed the sensation. "You never need to thank me, I can't wait to go on this journey with you and whatever we discover, I just know it's going to be great". Camilo was very nervous but hearing your words made him feel more confident and above all reminded him he wasn't alone. He had you by his side and you could go on this journey of self-discovery together.

____________

So we all know Camilo has identity issues right? Well whenever I find out a character has trauma I always invent a character to help them process it because I hate people suffering so ta dahhh!

Camilo is so sweet, did you know in the original verion he was going to be a moody jerk cousin? So glad they changed that into the quirky charming Camilo we have today.

[slytherinsnekxvii]

let's talk about lily evans and the marauders, aka moony, wormtail, padfoot and prongs. given that i didn't use their actual names, i think you can figure out where this is going. it's also long as hell, so. canon vs fanon, marauder edition, except snek is sleep deprived.

now, before we begin, i don't dislike the marauders. or lily, tbh. if I'm being perfectly, genuinely honest, i still go back and forth sometimes but they've been growing on me for a while now. the canon versions, at least. fanon does them real dirty, and that's part of why i'm writing this, because i'm genuinely tired of it. it's an injustice.

you can at least make excuses for james and lily, who were so undeveloped that jkr practically dropped a fill-in-the-blank sheet of character information in our laps, but sirius, remus and peter were around long enough for y'all to get real acquainted with them.

in canon, sirius black is an unhinged mf. genuinely. this isn't to say he's a bad guy, in fact, we see that he's still capable of doing good things, still capable of love, still capable of all the things that prove he's actually not bad at heart, just,,, severely traumatised and very steeped in negativity from his time with the dementors. what i'm saying is that this man is absolutely, no questions asked, no holds barred demented, and how could he not be? the guy sat wrongfully imprisoned in azkaban for twelve years, a good portion of which he spent as a dog in order to protect himself from the dementors. he certainly wasn't completely insane, but you cannot tell me that he was all there. he got out of azkaban fuelled almost solely by the intent to get revenge on pettigrew, tried to commit murder in front of three witnesses who were also children—one of whom was his godson—ate rats and was also malnourished, which i'm certain did not help the situation any. this man is off his goddamn rocker, and you know what? you love to see it. good for him.

oh, but, snek, that's what he's like as an adult. what about when they were at school? before azkaban? my guy, the reaction he has to grimmauld place is not the reaction of someone without trauma. i don't believe that walburga and orion were the type to physically abuse their children, but whatever happened in that house helped to fuck him up enough that he skipped the joke of part of practical joke, and pranked snape by telling him how to meet a werewolf that he knew would be fully transformed and dangerous to humans. more than that, the werewolf was remus, whom he's friends with, and who—best case scenario—would be facing a trial if james hadn't stepped in. you can say that maybe he didn't think about or understand the gravitas of his actions, but at the end of it, that's not how properly sane people react to people they dislike, and that's not how they treat their friends. if anything, it reads like he was in the middle of a breakdown and absolutely losing his shit and he wasn't thinking at all.

my guy went through some serious shit, and was in no way completely mentally stable. we can see pretty clearly that he's got a serious dark side to him that probably would have gone unbridled had he not disagreed with his family, and yet, fanon took one look at him and went, "teehee, uwu bad boi go vroom."

fanon said padfoot is a pretty boy with nice hair who is tastefully traumatised from his horribly abusive household. sirius rides his motorcycle and plays jokes and flirts with anything that moves, but he can do no real wrong and always comes back to his soft, bookish, chocolate-loving boyfriend remus, who will laugh about his lycanthropy and quietly disapprove but secretly laugh at his friends' antics while hiding his smile in his cardigan.

respectfully, what in the absolute fuck.

i'd put that meme in here if i could, the one that's like, "well done, you've broken _______ down to its bare essentials," but no. i can't bc it doesn't even apply. this isn't a meme, it's theseus' fucking ship.

fanon broke it down, and replaced the pieces one by one until we got to this point, where we need to sit down and ask ourselves, "is this even the same character?"

the answer is no, by the way. it isn't. when people talk about woobifying characters—you know, taking away every flaw they have, romanticising everything they do and making them only capable of doing good, wonderful, lovely things?—this is what we mean.

and it'd be one thing if it was just the one character, but, no. fanon went all in and made them all squeaky clean and boring, especially peter, who draws the shortest of the straws.

remus got fucked, too. not just because fanon insists on sticking him into a relationship with sirius. which, we'll tackle wolfstar in a bit, but that's not even the worst of it. here, we have yet another example of blatant, rampant woobifying. again, is he a bad person? no. we know he's a good guy, we know he's generally kind and well-mannered, we know that he wants to fo the right thing but hey, fun fact. did you know that you can be nice and a coward? did you know that you can be benevolent and good and kindly and have the greatest of intentions and still be shady as fuck? no? ask dumbledore. the man played people like chess pieces when he needed to, and he was a twinkly grandpa. these are things that can coexist.

teenage remus is a coward who, understandably, does not stand up to his friends, likely for fear of being ostracised, and doesn't uphold his prefect duties as he should and takes part in their bullying of snape as a result. he lets them romp with him in werewolf form while they are in their animagus forms and then, he lets them continue to do so even after they have multiple close calls, which, again, had anything happened, would have resulted in a trial in the best case scenario.

grownup remus is still a coward, he tells no one that sirius can move about the school in his animagus form despite wholeheartedly believing that he's a mass murderer, he tries to run out on his wife and unborn kid. he isn't deliberately making attempts to harm anyone, but he's content to sit back and let things happen to him and around him so he doesn't rock the boat, although he is capable of action, which we see when he is more than willing to help sirius merk pettigrew in the shack. he can be careless, he runs out to the shack knowing he hasn't taken his wolfsbane and ends up transforming in front of the students he, as a teacher, is meant to be protecting. of course, this doesn't negate his good qualities, it just bears repeating that his flaws do exist, and they're pretty serious.

fanon moony is always pleasant and kind and soft-spoken and bookish, and he always has to have his chocolate. he knows when to tell off his friends, and he'll do it, even if he's secretly amused by everything they do and laughs about it with his best friend, lily evans, who coincidentally spends all her time with them so he and sirius can go on double dates with james and lily and no one has to remember peter exists.

why. theseus' ship 2.0. does the actual character still exist or is this something entirely different thing bearing the same name?

as for peter, who needs peter pettigrew, the actual, legitimate, fourth marauder when you have lily evans? canon pettigrew is opportunistic as fuck. he's latching himself to the biggest bad on the block and he's going all in. for teenage peter, that was james and sirius, and for adult peter, that's voldemort. canon peter is good enough at transfiguration to master the animagus transformation, just like his friends, and he's good enough at potions to brew the potion that gives voldemort a body. and honestly, you can't say he wasn't brave. he could've run off somewhere and died, or changed his identity or something after he faked his death and framed sirius, but, no. he goes and resurrects voldemort. that's fucked up, yeah, but it happened and honestly, i respect that it. he stuck to his guns.

fanon wormtail is lucky if he exists beyond being a spineless sycophant for james and sirius, or an evil conniving little rat who's looking to toss his entire friend group to the wolves at eleven.

of course, this isn't meant to negate his bad qualities, he still murdered people and framed sirius and sold out the potters to die, but his good characteristics do exist, and james, sirius and remus genuinely were his friends.

and now, we get to lily and james.

we have hardly any information on either of them. they're a pair of cardboard cutouts that we can paint and stick flyers to and colour outside the lines however we want. we can do whatever the fuck, as long lily is brave and smart and somewhat kind and james is brave and willing to die for his family. we were essentially handed a pair of ocs.

and yet.

what little bits of canon we have are thrown out of the window regardless.

james is privileged and rich, and he throws hexes for fun. he's willing to hex lily when she disagrees with him, and then, he goes behind her back to continue hexing snape after she believes that he's stopped doing so. and that's all we know about him until he dies for his family at twenty-one years old. once again, say it with me: this does not negate his good qualities. he definitely had them, he took sirius in when sirius ran away from home, he became an animagus to keep remus company as a wolf, and he saved snape in the shack, thereby saving remus and sirius by extension. him having flaws does not make him a bad person.

fanon prongs is a feminist. he fights for equal rights for women everywhere, and he constantly treats his girlfriend, lily, like an absolute queen. he's the hottest boy in school and everyone claps when he walks through the halls. mcgonagall and dumbledore are always patting him on the back and making jokes with him. he has a built-in dark detector that helps him sense when someone is a evil and needs to he punished.

give me a break. the dude's cool and all, but was the gary stu treatment necessary?

...oh, he needed to match fanon lily? right, right.

canon lily is a contradiction unto herself. she's supposedly a great friend, but since we see her at a point where they were already drifting apart, we see her putting little effort into keeping their friendship afloat. she victim blames based on rumours, she doesn't seem to care over much about what snape has to say about the people who have been tormenting him since day one. and she's justified, of course, she doesn't have to stick around. canon lily is a bit of hypocrite, she says that snape calls everyone of her birth mudblood, but then that begs the question why she still hangs around with him if that's the case. he calls her mudblood, she retaliates by calling him snivellus, and finishes up with a dig about his underwear, which, sure, it's kicking a man with a rusty spoon and pouring salt in the wound, but she's, again, justified. i get where she was coming from. and then, of course, she dies for her kid after marrying the guy who relentlessly bullied her quote-unquote best friend for their entire school careers. but, like i said, canon lily is, in many ways, a contradiction.

lily is basically a plot device. she pushes everyone's narrative but her own, and does little else.

of course, this trend would continue in fanon. fanon lily exists to be the perfect girl who gets really angry over the slightest injustice, and of course, she gets to be one half of one of the oldest enemies-to-lovers "it was just sexual tension" cliche pairings in the book. she's just,,, a mary sue. in so many fics, so many headcanons, she's just pettigrew's stand-in, a girl to form a gang with marlene, mary and dorcas—who happen to be more undeveloped ocs who also get the woobify mary sue treatment—to parallel the marauders. there is nothing compelling about her character when she's presented as a saint, and even less when she's supposedly the other moral compass for the marauders that doesn't actually work because she thinks that james is cute.

and this brings me to the next topic. jily. what, why, how. this was supposed to be a healthy, happy relationship that would have lasted in the long run? absolutely not. even for its time, i can't say that i see it lasting.

first of all, jkr presents james' crush on lily as just that: a crush. a mildly obsessive one, but a crush nonetheless, which she tries to liken to the pulling of pigtails. and then, we see that james' way of getting her to go out with him consists of blackmail, and when that doesn't work, he resorts to threatening her. this could have been set aside if he had actually, genuinely changed when they started spending more time together, but as we're told by sirius and remus, he didn't. he just got better at hiding what he was up to. and it has to be that he hid it, because if she knew, this further damages the character that she's set up to have and paints her out to be either unable to stand up to him or an enabler.

regardless, they get married. and while i have trouble believing that it was out of genuine love, there are scenarios that could make some semblance of sense. it's wartime, after all, and maybe lily is worried about her stability in the wizarding world, so why not marry into an established family whose son is already showing interest? or perhaps, she falls into the trap of every bad boy cliche ever, and she thinks to herself, well, i got him to be better then, maybe i can get him to do even better in the future. or maybe, she doesn't get into a relationship with him immediately and sees him on and off, until eventually, she accidentally gets pregnant and they scramble to have a shotgun wedding so as not to leave lily alone at nineteen with a baby. or maybe they marry each other because they're there and sure, neither of then is ready and they don't know what love even is but what else is there to do when there's a dark lord about? anyways, the point is, they get married.

and then what? if we count pottermore into canon, he goes on to further damage her relationship with petunia and vernon, to the point where she ends up crying. if we don't, she fades into the background enough that nobody has anything to say about her. she's harry's mum, she's james' wife, lily potter, she was kind and smart and brave and that's it. her agency is gone, anything else we have of her personality is gone.

jily just,,, wasn't built to last. and, yeah, this,,, this is a hill i'll die on.

same with wolfstar, honestly. there are so many reasons why it wouldn't work, but fanon has made it so fucking prevalent that it's literally everywhere no matter where you look.

first of all, i've said it before and i'll say it again. sirius is more likely to get with james that he is to ever end up in a relationship with remus. their chemistry is just,,, underdeveloped. net zero for a relationship.

secondly, sirius instigated the werewolf prank, and lupin would have paid the price for it. this could have been overlooked, but he doesn't seem the slightest bit guilty about any of it when it's brought up in poa. he could have been responsible for lupin losing the security of his place at hogwarts in the best case scenario, and in the worst case, his life. and he seems to look forward to full moons, even though they clearly aren't pleasant for remus, which,,, yeah, you're going to have fun, but like, maybe be concerned about the fact that your friend undergoes excruciating pain and it isn't a pleasant time for him? read the room, my g.

thirdly, they don't trust each other as much as fanon seems to think they do. they were both willing to believe each other the traitor before ever suspecting pettigrew. sirius thought remus gave away the potters, hell, he thought remus was a spy for voldemort, and remus was convinced that sirius was a mass murderer. neither of them needed to be convinced.

fourthly, maybe i'm reading too much into it, but like. sirius had money. remus had no money, since, yk, he was a werewolf and struggling for cash and still, sirius,,, did not leave him any money. i feel like if you had money to spare, you would give to your friend who is literally poor. but, again, maybe i'm reading too much into it and this isn't as valid a point as i think it is.

and ehh, the fifth reason is that it's,,, actually very much not the representation for the ltgbt community that fanon says it is but y'all aren't ready for that conversation.

anyways, just,,, even when you set the couple shit aside, the power dynamics between everyone here is fucked. like, james and sirius are clearly at the top of food chain calling the shots and egging each other on. then there's lily, who isn't even a marauder, but is always ever-so-slightly above remus but still not on their level, because, well. neither of them actually listen to her. remus is the novelty friend, the friend who's,,, alright, i guess, but you keep them around specifically because they're funny or they can dance or they have something that you can either show off to other people or keep as your little inside joke, your little secret, yk? and peter is just sort of there. like, yeah, he can do what we can but does that make him as good as we are? no. does he have a funny little something about him that we can exploit? nah. therefore he sits at the bottom. and like, yeah, james and sirius are on the same level, but james is yanking sirius' chain, not the other way around. anyways, like i said. power dynamic's fucked and it bothers me that we were given all of this, and fanon decided to take it all and throw it away so they could give us flamboyant!badboi!sirius black x softboi!motherhen!remus lupin going on double dates with feminist!trustfundbaby!james potter and saint!lily evans while ignoring peter pettiwho?

theseus' fucking ship, indeed.

anyways, this needed to be said. it might not make as much sense as i want it to, considering it's 4:12 in the morning as i'm posting this, after taking a break from writing to do some research and coming across way too much content about fanon marauders, but it's here and it still makes enough sense that you can read it and understand what i mean. and like, at the end of the day, you can go ahead and headcanon whatever you please, you can write fic and make art and do whatever you like, just,,, remember that they're exactly that. headcanons. stop presenting fanon as canon. please. i'm literally begging. we actually have evidence against it. just,,, acknowledge that they're headcanons and stop putting them forward as though they're able to fit into canon. please.

[mc-lukanette]

GOD Furious Fu genuinely pissed me off SO MUCH so hopefully you don’t mind me coming over here to ask for some kinda Lukanette fix it for that train wreck??? Like, not even anything super detailed, if you don’t feel like it, maybe just “Marinette caves, gives the Miracle Box to Su-Han, gets spotty memories and Luka (+ Kitty Section and Kagami, maybe) help her out and worry over her.” Maybe Tikki even realizes she screwed up. If not it’s fine but Lukanette makes everything better so I had to ask.

Warning: it’s gonna be a ride.

—————

Luka looked over as his phone started ringing, brows raising at the sight of Marinette's icon popping up on the screen. It'd been rare for her to call him after all the complications that came with them dating, so he was surprised to say the least.

Nevertheless, he rested an arm on his guitar and reached across his bed with his other to pick up the phone, answering the call and moving the device to his ear. "Hey, Marinette."

"Hey, Luka..."

His heart sank at the sound of her voice. It was a whole mix of emotions, but above all else, she sounded tired. He wondered what she'd gone through for her voice to play those sorts of notes.

"Did anything happen?"

"No," she answered almost instantaneously. She paused, then let out a small whine. "I-I'm sorry. I'm so used to lying, but—I guess I don't have to do that anymore."

He stayed silent, allowing her to continue.

"I—" Marinette took an audible breath, then let it out, her voice lowering to a whisper as if she were scared of someone else hearing.

"I'm...I'm Ladybug, Luka."

Luka's first reaction was shock, though he couldn't be sure if it was the identity bomb she dropped or just the fact that she told him at all. Then, once the surprise died down, the idea that Marinette was Ladybug wasn't that surprising in itself. and he couldn't imagine who else it could've been otherwise.

Smart, talented, caring, selfless... it all added up.

But that also made it all the more painful when he realized what it meant. Immediately, all the dates that she'd missed and all the things he'd been concerned about made sense, and it hurt.

That was the secret she couldn't share with him, no matter how badly she might've wanted to.

The last thought in particular was odd to him, and he couldn't help voicing it, "I... thank you for telling me, Marinette, but... why now?"

She took another breath, more unsteady this time, like she were a guitar with something jammed inside the base. "Because—I'm about to forget it, and now I can't stop thinking about everything I might forget; how I want someone to know. You were the first - the only - person I thought of." Then, hesitantly, she asked, "Is that okay?"

Luka swallowed, feeling the whiplash of another dropped bomb right before the kind of casual compliment that made his heart race. "Of...of course it is."

She sighed in relief. "Thank you."

He tried to keep quiet, but couldn't hold back from questioning, "You said 'forget'..."

"Yeah, because I'm guardian now. There was someone else before and they gave me the ladybug miraculous, but—" She paused, as if considering something, then seemed to shift the conversation. "See, I didn't know anything about being a hero at the start, and... I screwed up." Before Luka could ask or recall the event, she continued, "I let the first ever akuma go, and it let Hawk Moth spread his butterflies everywhere when Ivan got akumatized again. I fixed it, but it was still my mistake that started it."

"Marinette—"

"—and I always tried. I tried my best no matter what I did. I tried to be a good Ladybug, a good student, a good daughter, a good friend... and I tried to get Adrien's attention." She groaned, though the sound seemed muffled, perhaps by her hand. Her voice cracked as she went on, "That's where everything went so wrong, Luka. I knew I had bad luck, but no matter how hard I tried, things would go bad. It was humiliating, and I kept thinking that maybe I just wasn't trying hard enough. My parents had such a happy relationship and I wanted that, but I was just wasting my time. He was barely in my life but he got put into everything I did, and I made so many mistakes from him. There's a liar in school who wants to turn everyone against me, and Alya thinks I'm just jealous because of Adrien. Chloe convinced me to do things I'm not proud of, and it took a while for me to be Kagami's friend. I didn't listen to my kwami and used my miraculous for my own gain, and..."

"What's wrong with that?" he questioned, voice pained. "What's wrong with using your miraculous for you? You save Paris every other day—"

"—because bad things happen, Luka," she stressed as if it were something urgent. "Bad things happen when I... feel."

There was a pit in his stomach. He knew he shouldn't ask - knew he wouldn't like the answer - but he hoped for better regardless. "Feel... what?"

"Anything."

He hunched forward, not strumming his guitar but running his fingers along the strings, desperate for something to busy himself with. His shoulders were stiff and his chest felt tight, unable to fathom what she'd been going through compared to what he'd merely seen on the surface.

"No matter what I did, no matter what I felt... it was wrong, Luka. I embarrassed Chloe in front of the whole class and she wanted to move to New York. She'd bullied me for years and I was so happy." She sounded conflicted, like instruments that didn't go together. "Adrien told me it was terrible. He didn't know why I could celebrate it. I felt awful, so I gave her a chance; I gave her a miraculous."

Luka anxiously rubbed one of the strings between his thumb and index finger, torn between seething and trying to reassure her despite knowing that she'd cut him off.

"She got it in her head that she deserved it, but with Mayura around, it wasn't safe to let her keep having it. I had to tell her 'no,' and..." She let out a defeated noise. "Do you remember that day? At the park?"

She didn't need to specify, and his voice lost all life at the memory. "Yeah..."

"Adrien and Kagami were together. I let them go. They seemed so happy together and it was the right thing to do, but..."

She paused, and he braced himself.

"When I was going to see the guardian to get a miraculous, I saw them. I got distracted and I forgot to de-transform. Because of me, Hawk Moth found the guardian, and he got the miraculouses from him. By the time I realized what happened, it was too late, and Chloe got akumatized again to ruin me. Those bees you saw—they were hers. They mind-controlled everyone, and that's why your identities were compromised. The guardian had to give up the box with all the miraculouses in it to me - ladybug me - because Hawk Moth was probably about to kill him and become the next guardian." She let out a sob. "Giving up the box... it takes your memory with it."

Luka gripped the string he'd been rubbing.

"I don't know how much he lost, but... anything about the miraculouses was gone. He didn't recognize me. He didn't even recognize the love of his life. He had... feelings, but that was it. All because of me."

"Marinette—" he desperately tried to interject.

She cut him off, as he'd feared, "I'm just fixing my own mistakes. People think I'm a good Ladybug because they don't get that. They don't get that I'm just going in circles. My friends don't believe in me, my parents think I'm too clumsy to carry a tray, and... it always feels like someone - somewhere - is laughing at me, with every screw-up." She whimpered. "What good is a ladybug who gets people akumatized? Who gets her own boyfriend akumatized?"

"I don't blame you for that!" he shouted, intentionally raising his voice to talk over her.

He heard a small noise in response, though he couldn't tell if it was another whimper or a giggle.

"I'm sorry," she said, though what she was apologizing for seemed vague, "and thank you, for always being there for me. I'm glad I have time to talk to you before he gets back."

Luka had to calm himself down to ask worriedly, "He...?"

"The guardian; the one that came before the one I knew. He showed up in my room today and saw how I had all the kwami outside of the box; I guess you're not supposed to do that, and he wasn't happy. He told me about all these rules I broke and how I had to give everything back. I took him to meet Chat Noir, but Chat ran for it when he realized that I'd forget about him. The guardian is chasing him down now and I'm just here, with the box, waiting for him to get back."

Luka leaned back and stared at the ceiling, overwhelmed by the rush of information she'd thrown at him all at once. He hadn't even been the one to experience any of it and he still felt worn down as if he had.

"I—" He paused, not liking how his voice shook. "I wish I could've helped you, Marinette. I wish you hadn't had to do all of that alone. I know you feel like it's your fault, but even the best musicians miss notes and mess up. Please don't blame yourself."

She let out a non-committal noise and he knew then that nothing he said would help her. He was sure that she believed him, but words could only do so much, and unlearning what apparent months of suffering had taught her would be difficult.

Though, he supposed it wouldn't matter. "Will you forget... everything?"

"I don't know, but at least everything about Ladybug or the miraculouses will go." She let out a half-hearted chuckle. "I guess it was all for nothing in the end."

"It wasn't," Luka replied. "Marinette, no matter how many times you feel like you screwed up, you were still an amazing ladybug. Everything you said didn't change my mind about that." After a moment of thought, he added, "And that other guardian... how is he?"

He heard her take a breath, as if to give an automatic answer, but she stopped herself. "...He's away from Paris, living with the love of his life."

"See? That sounds better than being the guardian, in Paris, where Hawk Moth is," he pointed out. "Maybe he forgot more than he would've wanted, but—"

"Luka," she interrupted, as if something had just occurred to her.

He considered finishing what he was saying, but stopped himself in favor of wanting to hear her out. "Yeah?"

"A-ah... mm." She struggled briefly while trying to get the words out. "If—if I forget too much... if I forget you... would you still visit me?"

It wasn't that he hadn't thought about the possibility, but it hadn't been on the forefront of his mind either, mostly for the sake of keeping himself grounded.

After having an internal debate with himself, he settled for asking, "Would you want me to?"

"Don't say it like that," she pleaded. "Don't leave it all up to me. I...I'd understand if you decide you don't want to see me again. I wouldn't blame you, I just—" Her voice lowered to something both shy and fond. "—I'm my best self when I'm with you, Luka. We didn't date for that long, and maybe it would've been better for you if we never met, but I..."

The pause she made had him holding his breath, his grip on the phone tightening. He couldn't believe she would dare to imply that he wouldn't do it all over again; meeting her, writing songs about her, dating her...

Marinette let out a breath, and Luka noted that it sounded so... final, like this was really the end.

"I love you, Luka."

His heart hammered in his chest. "Marinette."

"Thank you, and I'm sorry," she whispered. After going quiet for a few seconds, her tone suddenly shifted as she said, "I have to go now. He's on his way."

Luka took a sharp intake of breath, but the click of the call came before he could speak. He could only stare down at the phone, Marinette's contact image staring back as an emptiness washed over him.

Then, he was on his feet, guitar tossed aside, and he'd never moved so fast before in his life.

—————

Marinette gazed at Luka's picture for a few more seconds, as if doing so would permanently imprint it into her memory, then sighed and tossed it onto her chaise lounge. She rubbed at her eyes, wiping away tiredness and unshed tears, unable to help wondering if Fu falling unconscious after his memory loss was something peaceful for him.

When she uncovered her eyes, she noticed the kwami, all distancing themselves from her but staring at her like she was a corpse in a coffin.

"What...?" she asked, though part of her already knew the answer.

They all exchanged glances, like they were debating telepathically, then Wayzz flew forward.

"I - we - we're so sorry, Marinette," he said. Bowing in respect, he added, "We got so excited, and we only caused you more problems."

Marinette shrugged, only able to offer a defeated smile. "There's nothing we can do now. It's too late to change anything."

Tikki approached, her body hunched over and making her look even smaller than she already was. "I-I should've said something. I let him talk to you like that and I didn't do anything to stop him."

Marinette reached over, tempted to pet or touch her kwami in some way to help reassure her, but pulled back at the last moment, too conflicted about it.

The sound of something landing on the balcony followed, and Marinette stared up at it like she could see through her ceiling.

"...He's here," she stated. After giving one last look at all of her kwami, she focused specifically on Tikki and said, "Spots on."

Su-Han descended into her room, Ladybug standing in the center and wanting nothing more but to get things over with. He approached her, raising his fist and then opening it to show her the ring inside; Chat Noir's ring. Plagg, meanwhile, hovered aimlessly around the room, not meeting anyone's eyes and probably sensing the tension.

"That crybaby was even more of a fool than I'd thought," Su-Han commented, "giving a miraculous to a boy whose face is all over this village."

"What?" Ladybug blurted out. A boy whose face was all over—but that meant—"Adrien?"

Su-Han raised a brow. "A friend of yours?" He promptly scoffed. "That makes him even more foolish."

She couldn't even find it in herself to respond, too busy grappling with so casually being told something she'd intended to never learn about if she could help it.

Adrien was Chat Noir? It explained a little bit of everything and made her feel a lot of everything at the same time, like the two personalities meshed together to create something both shocking yet profoundly upsetting. She saw her memories with Adrien in place of Chat Noir and vice versa, unable to separate the two and pursing her lips as she recognized that, perhaps if things had been a little different...

"Young lady," Su-Han called strictly, pulling her out of her trance. "I don't have time to waste here. Relinquish the Miracle Box to me, at once."

"A-ah..." Ladybug could only nod, still dazed but at least focused enough to respond. She stared down at her hands, staring at the red and single black spot on the back of each, then sighed and closed her eyes, accepting that it was the last time she'd see them.

"I, Ladybug, hereby relinquish the Miracle Box..."

The last feeling she'd remember as Ladybug was a deep, unrelenting regret; regret for all the things she did do, didn't do, and the things that weren't even in her control.

Then, as her mind was fogging and she was slipping into darkness, she felt something else.

She felt free.

—————

Luka didn't bother saying a word to Tom or Sabine when he charged inside the bakery, both of them letting out various shouts of concern as he bolted past them and ran up the stairs. He nearly tripped multiple times, but he never stopped moving. He dashed up each flight until his eyes locked on the door to Marinette's living room.

He opened the door in a hurry, ignoring the sound of it slamming against the wall, and headed right for the stairs to Marinette's room. He threw caution to the wind and pushed open the trap door in the same fashion, his eyes scanning the place in a panic.

Then, his gaze fell upon Marinette, lying there on the floor, earrings gone, and he realized that he was too late. If he were honest, he hadn't known exactly what he'd rushed there to do - try and prevent the memory loss? tell her how wrong she'd been during their call? call out the guardian for treating his beloved so cruelly? - but now that he was there, all he could think about was being there for her.

He took a moment to catch his breath, then approached and knelt down next to her. Slipping his arms underneath her, he lifted her up and brought her over to her chaise lounge, wanting to at least get her off the floor. Her phone had been resting on the chaise’s cushion, but he simply moved it to the table after setting her down.

He paced around the room, raking his fingers through his hair and ruffling it. His mind was still racing, as was his heart, and his running had nothing to do with either. He knew that, whether Marinette had her memory or not, she was the song in his head, and any pain that would come with her not knowing him couldn't compare to the pain of not seeing her again. She wasn't a burden, and no matter how many excuses he might have to come up with, he wasn't going to let her be alone, especially not when she trusted him with a secret that she'd only let him hear.

He was so distracted by his thoughts that he almost didn't hear the slight shuffling noise, though the sound of Marinette stirring was what made him fully turn around to look at her. While she laid there, her eyes were half-lidded and unfocused, darting aimlessly around the room as if in search of something.

"Marinette," he whispered, rushing over to her. Bending over the chaise lounge, barely thinking, he asked gently, "Are you okay?"

"Mm..." Her eyes found his, and she blinked a few times before she actually seemed awake enough to answer him. "Luka?"

His breath, his words, his very sound, all caught in his throat. If he were a guitar, his strings would've snapped from the sudden release of tension.

"Y-you... know who I am?" he asked in a small voice.

She tilted her head at him, confused by the question. "Of course I do? You're my boyfriend."

Boyfriend. She said boyfriend. She didn't just remember him, she remembered her feelings for him.

He got misty-eyed from the realization, and Marinette's eyes widened in alarm.

"L-luka?" she called, brows furrowed with concern. She reached up with a hand, sliding it along his cheek. "What's wrong—what happened? I swear I'm okay, I—"

He shook his head, gently holding onto her wrist and feeling the steady rhythm of her pulse to ground himself. "Nothing, Marinette. Nothing happened. You—you just had a bad fall."

"O-oh. I...I'm sorry." She pushed herself up with her free hand. "I'm so clumsy. I didn't mean to worry—"

He couldn't wait any longer. He hugged her, squeezing her with every ounce of love that'd been accumulating since they'd originally broken up. Marinette didn't seem to understand the intensity of his actions, but didn't hesitate to hug him back either, even humming with content and burying her face into his shoulder.

Her song sang freely to him. It wasn't torn or twisted up, playing openly instead of staying locked in a music box. He couldn't have been happier after she'd given him such a scare before, and any remaining questions could come later.

For that moment, he just let their duet play free-er than it'd ever been able to before.

—————

"Luka~" Marinette called from the kitchen. When he looked over to her, she raised two different bottles of iced tea, waving them a bit for emphasis. "Which one do you want?"

He hummed, then pointed to the one in her left hand. She nodded at the decision, then put the other bottle back in the fridge, retrieving a bottled drink of her own before leaving the kitchen to join him on the couch.

The last few weeks had been a bit of a rollercoaster, but not necessarily in a bad way. He'd had to deal with Marinette's memory loss and simultaneously piece together how exactly it'd all worked out, but all in all, it was good for her.

Most of Marinette's memories outside of being Ladybug were in tact, and Luka had realized soon after she'd woken up from her memory loss that the reason she’d forgotten about their break up was exactly because it'd been related to her being Ladybug. He'd tried vaguely to explain it to her as if he hadn't known that she was Ladybug, wondering if those negative feelings still lingered, but they both still wanted to date each other and thus concluded that not dating after all that would've been silly. He knew full well that she wasn't going to be stressed or strapped for time anymore, so it wasn't a subject worth debating over, especially if it meant that they could move back into dating without issue.

She'd initially cried when he assured her that he was happy to continue dating her. She couldn’t comprehend why and he'd merely hugged her in reassurance, imagining that he was also hugging the Marinette of the past who didn't believe he'd want to date her again.

Outside of that, there were additional gaps in Marinette's memory that she couldn't explain, and Luka was certain that they were either Ladybug or guardian-related. Her parents had been particularly concerned by the losses, but Luka noted to himself that the lost memories were for the best. It was as if all of the memories that had caused her stress had evaporated, leaving only good ones behind.

Adrien was the big one, as she hadn't been able to remember him at all. At best, she was uncomfortable around him, and Luka did her the favor of removing any pictures of the guy from her cork board and phone. It took him a while to figure it out, but once he put together that Adrien was Chat Noir, things fell into place. Marinette had explained during their phone call that the previous guardian had lost his memory of the love of his life, but Luka imagined that she might've been his confidant for so long that thinking of her as anything else was impossible. Factor in that Marinette had also explained that her crush on Adrien had seeped into her being Ladybug, and it all added up; so long as the connection between the person and the miraculouses was unavoidable, they were forgotten.

And Marinette seemed all the happier for it. To some degree, it was tragic that Paris didn't have Ladybug anymore, but as far as Luka was concerned, Marinette needed to be rid of Ladybug more than Paris needed her, and Marinette's health took priority over all else.

The new ladybug holder was no replacement from the original, but Luka had expected that. Despite them being an adult and having access to as many lucky charms as they desired, no one could substitute Ladybug's instinct and ability to think on her feet.

But that wasn't Luka's problem, and he wholly intended to make sure that it wasn't Marinette's either. She'd heard that there was a previous ladybug, but had no interest in anything relating to the heroes nor their miraculouses. The most she'd said about them was one time where she'd idly commented that her homeroom and PE teachers had been "busier than she remembered," though she'd brushed it off as being related to her mild memory loss.

He'd giggled at that. He had been prepared to have to fall in love with a slightly different Marinette, but she honestly hadn't changed much; still caring, still generous, and still the adorable mess that he loved so much. She could afford to work on her confidence, sure, but he didn't fall for her due to what Ladybug had given her.

"Luka?"

He blinked, then looked down to her; her and her bright, happy eyes, the darkness underneath having faded long ago. She smiled at him, oblivious to his thoughts and a brow raised in amusement.

"Were you daydreaming?" she asked curiously, her hand covering his and giving it a casual squeeze.

Luka still couldn't quite believe that he was hers and she was his. He recalled Desperada, that fateful day where she - Ladybug at the time - had given him the snake miraculous, presumably after she'd tried to give it to Adrien. He wouldn't have admitted it at the time, but there was a pride in being able to do something that Adrien couldn't. He'd never forgotten her words either, knowing now that they were Marinette's.

"You were the right choice, Luka."

He sighed blissfully, bending down to press his forehead against hers and replying, "I'm just happy."

She let out a small whine at the sudden and sweet gesture, but still pressed back in return. "Me too."

They stayed in that moment until a sudden thumping noise brought them out of it, Luka jerking his head up to stare at where it'd come from: Marinette's room. Immediately recognizing what was happening, he groaned and rubbed his face in irritation.

As expected, the man Luka had come to know as Su-Han emerged, descending the stairs and locking eyes with Marinette. She recoiled, her hands clutching Luka's sleeve as she murmured, "Not you again..."

Luka gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder, then got up from the couch and walked around to face Su-Han himself.

The man huffed. "I'm not here for—"

"Marinette wants nothing to do with you," Luka said lowly. He went for the living room door, opening it and gesturing outside. Su-Han followed with an air of self-importance and Luka closed the door behind them, leaving Marinette safely out of the conversation.

"The former ladybug had not even informed me of what she'd done," Su-Han explained. "Therefore, it's time she take responsibility and—"

Luka snapped, "You don't get to blame anything on Marinette. She did everything you asked her to and you made her give up her memories." He purposefully left out the fact that she was better off without said memories. "You're the one who insulted her song before you even got to hear it."

Su-Han squinted, the phrase clearly going over his head. "...What?"

At that point, the sound of footsteps came from downstairs, Luka glancing past the railing to see Tom coming up, perhaps having heard the voices even if he didn't hear any specific words.

The moment he saw Su-Han, Tom glared.

"Honey! That man bothering our daughter is back!" he shouted.

More footsteps followed, this time from Sabine and simultaneously much faster than Tom’s. Su-Han clearly caught on that this would be a repeat of "last time" (one of Luka's fonder memories of seeing the man be dealt with) and quickly fled back into the other room to return to Marinette's balcony and escape.

Once Luka had confirmed that everything was okay, he returned to the couch to sit at Marinette's side again. She tilted her head at him, but didn't ask any questions, Su-Han having become something on a "frequent but harmless weirdo" who she didn't understand.

Luka held an arm out invitingly, then wrapped it around Marinette when she snuggled against him. He used his free hand to open the bottle of iced tea - finding it difficult but also not worth leaving their cuddle to allow for both hands - then tipped the drink to his mouth to take a sip.

"Hey, Luka?" Marinette called, slightly shy in her delivery.

Luka met her gaze, setting the drink back on the table so he could give her his full attention. "Hm?"

"Could we... go on a date tomorrow?" she asked, one of her hands idly fiddling with the fabric of his pant leg. "I was thinking we could go buy a movie to watch? The one with Jagged Stone?"

He didn't know if the request had anything to do with the failed date that she may or may not recall anymore, but regardless, he was grinning like a fool. He pulled her closer, his free hand falling upon one of hers as he nuzzled her. "I'd love that."

He silently looked forward to the day where all the new memories he made with her outmatched the time lost from her old ones.

[gale-gentlepenguin]

ML What If: Part 2 (Alt Volpina)

(Previous)

(What if Marinette didn’t expose Lila in Volpina?)

- Fu had not planned on meeting both Adrien AND Marinette on the same day. But he still got them both Tea.

-After Plagg popped out, the cat, was literally out of the bag. Tikki and Plagg sitting on the shoulder of their respective chosen now.

-Both teens were looking at each other, trying to process this unintentional reveal. Its clear they both want to say something, but don't know what to say. Thankfully Fu is there to cut the awkward.

-Fu however, was also processing his plan not going as well as expected. But honestly, he isn't too broken up about it.

-”Seems it can't be helped. You both know I am the guardian, and you both know each other’s identities.”

-Marinette was first to speak “So does that mean we have to give up being heroes?”

-Adrien iterates that he promises not to tell anyone about it.

-Fu eases them both. “I did choose you both for a reason, and you finding out the other’s identity is more my fault than either of yours. As long as no one else finds out your identities, I believe we should be fine.” (Fu’s whole bit with the identities was so less people would be involved. Having one’s identity public would put more then just themselves in danger. But, right now it would be MORE of a risk getting new heroes, and having them stay out knowing his identity.)

- Fu does ask how Adrien did know to come to this place. Which Adrien explains he had a book that Plagg wanted to show him. He opens his bag and finds it missing.

-Adrien freaks a bit (because that was his father’s book) but Fu then reveals the book. And Adrien looks relieved.

-Marinette had brought the book.

-So Adrien asks why Marinette had it?

-Marinette flustered, confesses that she saw him in the Library and Tikki saw the book. They noticed Lila take it, and followed her. Then they took it when the two were distracted, because Lila tossed it in a garbage nearby.

-Adrien comments that it explains how Lila suddenly had a miraculous looking necklace. She tried to copy it from the book.

-”Well it definitely is a fake. I didn't hand out the fox miraculous.” Fu commented. 

-Fu asks if Adrien revealed anything to this ‘Lila’. Adrien swears he didn't.

-Marinette apologizes for taking the book, explaining Tikki insisted they take it to the guardian. (Also is relieved that Adrien didn't believe Lila’s Lies)

-Adrien forgives her, even saying he knows Marinette wouldn't do something like that without a good reason.

-Fu hands the book over to Adrien, asking if he can sneak the book occasionally to him. Adrien comments he isn't sure if his father would allow it.

-”So this is your father’s book.”

-”Yes... I wasn't suppose to take it. Plagg found it.”

-Marinette suggests making copies of it. Which they do. Fu gives marinette his contact information. Adrien says it would be best if just Marinette had it. Nathalie might get suspicious about random phone numbers on his phone.

-Fu agrees. And Just like in Canon They make copies.

- Fu does ask why Adrien’s father has such a rare item pertaining to the miraculous. Adrien says he isn't sure. His father was very secretive...

-Fu comments that he should keep an eye on his father, he could perhaps know about guardians and be an asset, or could be working with Hawkmoth.

-Adrien states that his father would never...

-”Do you know what the Ladybug and Cat miraculous are able to do together?”

-Adrien and Marinette both look confused.

-Fu explains that both miraculous together can be used to grant any wish.

-”A wish?”

-”With a cost, but yes.”

- He tells them both that the wish is NEVER worth the cost, and that they should never use it.

-News of a meteor sets off notifications on their phones.

-Marinette and Adrien quickly transform. They take a second to realize, Yep, they do know their partner’s identity now (Cue blush). But the meteor does get them to focus on the task at hand.

-By the time they get there, Volpina had ‘Saved the day’

-Since Ladybug and Chat noir had just met the guardian, and a Fox miraculous hero just CONVENIENTLY showed up.

-Plus Fu already told them he never gave out that miraculous. So instant akuma.

-Ladybug and Chat noir don't know what her abilities actually are tho, so they decide to ‘Play along’.

-They ‘Pretend’ like she is totally a heroine. And they ask her what her power is.

- Same lie about super strength and Flight. Which they both know is a lie.

-They see the Hawkmoth mirage, and they are sus of it but no proof.

-They get split up, and just like in canon, Ladybug figures out the power is illusions.

-Adrien/chat noir does try his plan like before. (The interaction with Volpina is basically the same. But Volpina is less about proving Ladybug wrong (since she has no qualms with Ladybug at this time. More of trying to show Adrien.)

-Ladybug interrupts, Adrien is also much more insistent that his and Lila’s  ‘get together’ wasn't a date.

- Adrien escapes and transforms into chat noir. Volpina takes the fake Adrien.

-Ladybug was about to go after him but stops.

-”Oh right... that can't be Adrien.”

-”But Lila doesn't know that.”

-So Ladybug and Chat noir prepare a plan.

-They pretend that Volpina has Adrien and act like they will hand over the miraculous, But then fake out. They take the akumatized item from vulpine

-Lila is no longer volpina. No use of powers needed (one because illusions didn't cause any harm. and two, they were able to trick her)

-Chat noir tells Lila that she doesn't need to pretend to be a hero. She just needs to be a good person and be honest. They take her down from the Eiffel Tower.

-This actually annoys Lila, but she says she will think about it. Still grumbling about what happened. She does now have a story about how the heroes of Paris saved her. So she has no animosity towards Ladybug and Chat noir. So Hawkmoth doesn't bother focusing on her as much.

- Ladybug and Chat noir do go to the roof of a building, in order to “Talk”

-Ladybug tells him she is surprised that he is Chat noir. Not that she doesn't think he can be heroic, just that he is much more ‘Calm’ as Adrien.

-”Well, Chat noir does let me change my hair style, and be a bit more free. But I still love puns the same way.” He chuckles. “Glad you think I am heroic”

-Ladybug does realize, she has all these notions on what Adrien is, and all these Notions on who chat noir is. Now she is realizing some of those ideas are wrong. They are both actually really similar, because they are the same person. Just that her perspective on them was different. Amazing what a mask could do.

-”In hindsight, I am kicking myself for not seeing it sooner.” Chat noir answers.

-”Your hair style is the same.”

-Ladybug laughs at the lame joke.

-”But really, you are pretty much the same person with the mask on. Though maybe a bit more on the clumsy side.”

-Ladybug answers she doesn't have super human agility to catch her fall.

-”Don't worry, I will be there to catch you.”

-Ladybug looking at chat noir, giving his genuine smile. Yep, that was Adrien. Her face was red.

-”This is going to be harder now.”

-”Probably but we can cover for each other now. We can also communicate better. I can see you in school...”

-Chat noir realizes all of the things he did around Marinette as Chat noir, as well as how he tried to help Nino win over Marinette.

-”Just for the record... you aren't interested in Nino right?”

-”He is with Alya, but even if he wasn't, I already have someone else in mind.”

-Chat noir went red, now insanely curious.

-”W-Who is it?”

-Ladybug booped her partner’s nose.

-”Another time Kitty, we should head home.”

-They both say their good byes and head home.

- Ladybug and Chat noir transform back into civilians.

-They lean against the wall and slowly drop to the floor. both thinking the same thought.

-”The love of my life is my crime fighting partner.”

[scribe-of-monsters]

I don't know how to request writing stuff I genuinely can't come up with anything just do anything with pisces pls I need pisces content

Ask and ye shall receive ^^ ! (You're getting angst btw)

------

The phone's ringing was loud and tinny and made his head pound. "Pick up..." He mumbled, rubbing shaking hands- claws, now- through his sweat-soaked hair.

"Pick up. Please." Not that he looked forward to the conversation that would follow, but it would at least put a stop to the ringing.

Finally- finally- there was a rattle on the other end of the line as the receiver was picked up. "Hello?" A gruff voice grumbled, just loud enough to send another stab of pain through his skull.

He twirled his fingers (claws) in the phone's wire. "Father?" He choked out, and the new deep gouges on the sides of his neck throbbed at the motion of his throat.

The moment of silence on the other end felt long and loud. It seemed to last an eternity.

"What's wrong, son?"

Panic flooded his brain and he slammed the receiver back down with a sob. The faint electric buzz (ringing in his ears buzzing in his brain buzzing on his skin from scales that weren't supposed to be there) vanished and he buried his face in his hands (claws) and clutched at his hair (a great huge fin was growing out of it and it was impossible to hide anymore). His bones ached. He couldn't move his legs from the pain, they were twisting and contorting into some new shape, bending awkwardly at the heels and sprouting talons where his toes should have been.

It hurt and he didn't understand it, didn't understand why he was changing or what he had done to deserve it. He stared at the hands that were no longer his, at the rough patches of scales creeping over his skin. How could he expect to tell his father about this, to show his monstrous face around his family ever again? He had hoped that it would go away, that he would wake one day and it would be gone, just a passing nightmare. But as the weeks dragged by, the transformation only grew worse and he only grew more afraid. He feared what he'd become (claws too sharp to touch without scratching) and knew from his horrible journey to Innsmouth that it would only get worse (scales and tails and fins everywhere and eyes and teeth and talons searching the dark for prey).

He shifted, struggling to get his weight onto his (aching screaming hurting hurting) wobbly legs. He managed to drag himself to his clawed feet and stumbled across the room, clinging to the wall until he made it to his closet.

(He had to get out of here.)

He pushed the closet door open and fell back to his knees as he toppled inside. He raised his hands (claws) and groped through the darkness in search something to cover himself with, to hide (the scales and tail and fins) under when he left.

(He couldn't stay here.)

He dug out a battered old overcoat from somewhere. It was too big and the fringe around the cuffs fell far past his wrists. Far enough to cover his hands (claws) and big enough to swamp the rest of his body (hide the scales tail fins). He pulled it over himself and tried to stand again, but this time his knees gave out and he crumpled back to the floor.

Well, all right. He could wait a little while. (He couldn't stay he had to go had to run had to get out.) He curled up, scratching his claws across the fresh scales creeping their way up his arms. He wondered if his father would come to check on him. He wondered what would happen if he did.

From far away, he heard the phone ringing.

------

This got longer than I expected it to, I had a hard time figuring out how to end it! I hope I did all right though :)

And sorry for only using pronouns, this is at the point where Pisces hasn't changed his name yet but I'm trying to keep his secret identity ^^

[chaozsilhouette]

Turbulent Beginnings

This forms the opening act to Macaque’s story, showing just how different his and Wukong’s early lives were and why he took Wukong’s disappearance so hard.

The idea Macaque was born from the wind was inspired by @animemoonprincess. And yes, I am a shameless fan of Macaque originally having white fur. The angst is just too perfect.

Brace yourselves, this isn’t going to be pretty. I am essentially shoving our boy through an emotional meat grinder.

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

On a remote island, a day’s travel from China’s eastern shore, a massive hurricane raged as it had since the beginning of this world. The surrounding storms fed into it as its winds carved stone. No life had dared blossom on its soil out of fear of a painful demise. The merciless storm drank deeply of the waters of the sea, draining all aspects of potential and life before casting it aside. Not even curious spirits were spared.

Various deities had wondered why such a storm existed or why the Jade Emperor allowed such a dangerous presence to continue unchecked. Most believed that since the hurricane was stationary and prove no threat to the established order of the world, it was not important.

One day the hurricane vanished. As though it had never existed. Or rather that it had been transformed into something else.

It was the night of a new moon and with the hurricane gone, the island experienced its first cloudless sky. The only one to witness the momentous occasion was a monkie with pure white fur and six ears. Minding his manners, the nameless monkie bowed to the four winds in greeting.

The newborn proceeded to spend his days searching the island for something. Some clue as to the reason behind his birth. He could hear strange voices and words he didn’t understand yet at the same time could. He knew he wasn’t the only creature alive, so why was he alone?

For food, he walked his way through a cave system towards the sea, where he enjoyed the fish that were drawn in through the whirlpools and the mussels that clung to the sharp rocks. He grew to savor the taste of life, even though there was a part of him that craved something different.

Almost forty years passed before he mustered the courage to leave everything he knew to seek out those voices. He gathered all the driftwood and rope that had drifted onshore over the decades, fashioned it into a makeshift raft, and sailed towards the closest source of voices.

His voyage was actually pretty boring once he cleared the whirlpools.

The only exciting part about it was when that strange fish tried to sink his raft. It was bigger than any fish he’d previously seen with a mouth to match. Didn’t mean it survived past the first blow. Taking a bite Macaque wasn’t sure if he liked this fish. The muscles were tough and the flesh was rough on his tongue. He didn’t particularly like the taste. But there was enough to feed him for a full day.

In the end, he chose to eat a third of the fish’s muscles along with its heart before tossing back into the water.

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

Docking on dry land was an experience that would haunt him for years.

At first, he was filled with wonder at the sight of buildings and new creatures riding rafts far bigger than his.

When he stepped onto shore the whispers began.

The creatures, who he later learned were called humans, were pointing out his ears. They acknowledged his obvious intelligence. He heard them grip wooden instruments tightly. It was as if they expected him to do something.

No one made a move against him. No one approached him, but he could tell he wasn’t wanted. Everywhere he turned he saw eyes that cursed his every existence.

He didn’t stay in that village for long. In his mind, satisfying his curiosity wasn’t worth being stared at as though he was the source of all evil.

Demon.

That is what they called him. Was that what he was?

He didn’t know, but he didn’t like it.

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

He aimlessly wandered the countryside for far too long.

The first act of kindness he received was from a couple who could not have children of their own. He stumbled upon them by accident, but instead of the normal fearful expressions he’d come to expect they greeted him with genuine smiles and an offer to join them for dinner.

They took him in and treated him like family. He became the son they always wanted. They taught him how to properly speak and how to walk comfortably on two limbs. They blessed him with a name.

They were kind and nurturing. In another world, they may have been called bodhisattvas. But sadly, due to them being ordinary mortals, his time with them only lasted four decades.

He buried them with love but grew resentful of his weak emotions.

He learned what it was like to have someone welcome him home after a long day. He learned to savor the taste of a mother’s home-cooked meal. He enjoyed having a father figure who was willing to teach him old military tactics. He experienced friendly competitions to see who could paint the most accurate portrait of a flower they saw earlier that day. It was everything he never knew he craved and then it was gone. Leaving him with an empty home and a broken heart.

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

Nearly fifty years later he joined a band of traveling performers.

Their natural oddities allowed them to see who he really was and welcome him into their party. With their compassion, he was granted the opportunity to heal. He learned that despite the group’s large size, very few of them had any direct blood relations. What made them special was how they created their own family and turned what many called strange into something beautiful. Out of respect, he delved into the world of entertainment, found he had a natural talent for it.

When he took the stage people assumed he was in costume, but that didn’t matter. The applause of the audience was a gift he cherished. The sheer passion this family expressed through every second in life warmed his heart beyond words. They were just what he needed to bring him out of his depression.

Alas, it was not meant to stay.

One night their camp was ambushed by a group of demons. They were nothing special, hardly worth mentioning. But for him, back then, it was a fight he never imagined. He could easily handle human bandits, so could his family, but never had he traded blows with a small army of his fellow demons. With the rising of the sun, Macaque stared at the cruelly bright sky covered in blood. All around him bodies lay scattered, life essence soaking into the ground. Despite being tasked with fighting off nearly five dozen demonic opponents he managed to survive with barely a scratch, but he was alone. Again.

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

He tried to change things by sticking to his fellow demons. At least they lived longer.

Somehow that ended up with him becoming the apprentice to a demon healer for almost a century. She was a cold-hearted bitch with a heart of gold. Meticulous in her work, masterful in deduction, and short-tempered with the foolish. She gave everything to her practice and expected the same from him. It was bitter work, but he found it fulfilling. The knowledge that he now possessed the ability to restore others to peak condition settled some unknown part of his soul.

Of course, they would have visitors who wished to take advantage of her skills or steal the medicine. Between the two of them, they protected their clinic, but they weren’t always together. While she may try to hide it, she wasn’t the strongest demon out there. Apparently, the entire reason she got into medicine was to uncover why she was so weak. Centuries of research turned up nothing, but it did make her incredibly skilled at using poisons with her knives to compensate.

One day after he returned from gathering ingredients, he pulled back the door to find the shop in disarray, five unknown bodies slowly dying of extensive blood poisoning, and his master bleeding out from her severed arms. She always said she had no intention of entering Naraka alone.

Guess she kept her word.

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

The cycle repeated itself over centuries. He would experience a brief window of happiness only for it to be savagely stolen from him, leaving him to mourn and curse his weak heart.

The small glimmers of kindness humanity showed him only made him curse their race even harder when he couldn’t walk into a village without being harassed. The humans who had proven stronger were sadly a rare breed. He was rare to encounter one a century and often they perished at the hands of their kind rather than by demons.

There were times when the ignorance had gotten so bad he’d taken to traveling with a constant glamour, disguising himself as an average human. Whenever he was in the presence of other demons, he allowed his true form to manifest, however, he made it look like he only had a single pair of ears. Standing out was the easiest way to wind up in a complicated situation he had no interest in trying to defuse.

That’s not to say his time was wasted.

Quite the contrary, he had learned much during his travels. He could hardly be compared to the happy young monkie, who was ignorant of the dangers and hardships this world held. In a sad attempt to fill the void, Macaque sought out wisdom and strength. He located masters of both the mystic and martial arts. He may have had to lie about his age, he was becoming quite the accomplished liar, but the results were more than worth it. With every stop, he found himself growing more certain of his strength and his identity.

Eventually, he discovered a strange monastery hidden in a cave in the face of a mountain.

He had never seen anything like it during his travels. But what truly drew his attention was the feeling the temple exuded, every stone exuded a strange aurora. Something powerful dwelled within, powerful yet there was an undeniably human quality to it all.

Hiding beneath his usual glamor, Macaque approached the temple with the desire to discover exactly what was being taught. Before he knew what was happening, he was speaking to the immortal sage who was running the joint. Master Subhuti welcomed him to his home and offered some tea. The disguised monkie was bombarded by dozens of questions, all of which he attempted to answer as though he was a normal human.

The master welcomed him as his newest disciple and showed him his new home. Later he learned the master could see through his disguise and sensed his potential. Apparently, the old immortal believed that the monkie would do well to learn his disciplines and he was fascinated by the monkie’s natural talent.Said something about how with proper guidance only the Buddha would be able to peer past his façade.

The monkie even received a new name to celebrate his rebirth. From that day forward he was Liu’Er Mihou, or the Six-Eared Macaque. He liked it. While he cherished the name his first family gifted him, he felt this was a good sign. A tribute to show that he was a changed monkie.

Regardless, he refused to drop his glamor. He had seen too many demons be cast out and attacked for getting sloppy. The other students were not thrilled about the newcomer showing them up and he wasn’t willing to give them a true reason to despise him. He learned quickly, more so than any other human disciple, but that put him at odds with those who were still struggling after years of training.

Macaque distanced himself from the others. They weren’t that interesting anyway. He didn’t care that they talked about him behind his back or were fully aware he could hear them. He couldn’t risk getting close so soon. He was determined to break the cycle. He didn’t care about immortality. He didn’t care about obtaining power. All he wanted was to end the pain. So far things had been working out in his favor.

Then heshowed up…

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

That trice damned monkie with peach-colored fur and markings like a golden mask. He was so naïve about the world. He treated everything as though it was some exciting game. His upbeat energy made Macaque sick. Some twisted part of him wanted to snap his neck just to end it, but a small part was fascinated by it. The other monkie reminded him of a time he had almost forgotten.

The Monkey King, or Sun Wukong, didn’t bother hiding his true appearance. Truthfully, Macaque wasn’t sure he knew how or that he should. He didn’t seem to notice how other students would keep their distance or how they kept their conversations as brief as possible without crossing the threshold into being considered rude.

He was so earnest and happy, it was painful. The new monkie pestered everyone about everything, it was like dealing with a newborn, but it seemed Macaque was his favorite to bother. The worst part was how he stared at Macaque as though he could peer past his glamour. Although Macaque wasn’t sure if that was truly possible. The Master could, but he dedicated centuries to refine his skills. Wait. How old was this annoyance? Perhaps he could smell he wasn’t like the other disciples.

Either way, he knew it was just a matter of time until the truth got out. He just didn’t expect it to be when he was changing.

Each student was offered a meager room for privacy. They were all the same size and offered little to no space for any customization, but the walls were enchanted to cut out sound whenever the doors were closed.

Behind those flimsy walls was the only time Macaque allowed his glamor to drop. While he valued being cautious, even he couldn’t keep up the glamour indefinitely, much less when he was asleep.

It was in that small space of safety that he discovered he wasn’t alone.

He had just allowed himself to relax when a smiling face covered in peach fuzz was shoved into his own.

“I knew it! You’re like me.” Sun Wukong happily exclaimed, stars practically dancing in his eyes.

“Shut up.” Macaque clamped his hand over the other’s mouth. Checking to ensure no one else was present and the door was shut, he faced the intruder. “Have you told anyone?” He hissed, while berating himself for failing to check the ceiling. You always look up when scanning a room, he knew that.

“Nope. Why are you hiding? You’re beautiful.” The cheerful demon spoke as though they were old friends. His golden eyes took in every hair of his fellow monkie’s true appearance.

“I’m a demon. And there is nothing beautiful about me.” Macaque growled.

“Yes, there is.” Wukong insisted. “You didn’t answer my question. Why are you hiding? The Master let me in, I wager he knows about you, so why?”

Sighing, Macaque massaged the bridge of his nose. “I have been hurt enough times to know keeping a low profile is optimal in survival. It is better to keep one’s head down than risk getting called out.” From observation, he knew the newer student wouldn’t leave until he received answers, so the best option was to just give him what he wanted and pray he knew enough to leave.

“That’s no fun.” Wukong stuck his tongue out in distaste. “You shouldn’t have to hide who you are. We were born this way.” He jumped high into the air only to catch himself on his tail with a cheeky grin. “So, they’ll just have to deal with it.”

“Cute speech. But my answer is no. Now leave.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll fix that attitude right up.” Thankfully Wukong left, but not before sending a smile laced with mischief his way. “See you tomorrow.”

Macaque prayed to every deity that would be the end of it. But even he knew it was a futile attempt.

“Do you have a tribe?” Wukong asked, hanging by his tail from Macaque’s favorite tree.

A startled Macaque blinked at the random question. “A what?”

“A tribe. A family. A place to call home?” Wukong asked smoothly even if he wasn’t familiar with the term family until recently he knew it was important.

“Not anymore.” Glaring Macaque returned his focus to his meal.

“Aw.” Wukong knew that look. He had seen plenty of monkeys wear that arura after watching other tribe members die. “Then you should come with me!”

“What?”

“Yeah. You can join my tribe. There are dozens of us back home. Plenty of food and water, you’ll constantly be surrounded by others like us.”

“Other demons?”

“No.” Wukong smiled as though he told a funny joke. “Other monkeys.”

“There is no reason for me to join you.” Macaque stated, wishing he could finish his lunch in peace.

But Wukong wasn’t letting him go that easily. “And there’s no reason for you to refuse.” He stated, ignoring any and all social cues or common sense for respecting personal space.

It went on like that for years. Every day Macaque would awake to find gold eyes staring at him, waiting for his answer to change. Breaks were spent dodging the hyperactive monkie as he tried to eat alone. Training sessions soon found him sparring with the same partner.

The monkie was stubborn no doubt and Macaque feared his actions were slowly breaking down his walls. The pale furred monkie missed having a connection. He adored being able to talk to others, but whenever he opened up he only got hurt.

But maybe, maybe this time could be different…

Wukong was training to obtain immortality. He had already proven to be stronger and more clever than anyone he’d known. The simian showed that he wanted to know him better. He constantly tried to touch his fur, something he called grooming, which felt pretty nice.

Maybe…maybe this time he could truly have a home.

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

A streak of light accompanied by a sharp whistle pierced the night sky. For a brief moment, it vanished before exploding in a beautiful display of color and light.

On the monastery’s rooftop, Wukong backflipped in joy at the sight, his golden eyes wide. “Happy New Year!” The monkie cried. In the village below, he could make out dozens of voices echoing the greeting.

It didn’t matter how many times he saw them, fireworks were a sight he always adored. “This has got to be mankind’s greatest invention!” The flowers of fire were simply too beautiful. So unique. Nothing on Flower Fruit Mountain compared to such beauty, it made him thankful he decided to leave.

From the corner of his eye, Wukong noticed that his companion was clutched his ears wincing with every detonation. “You okay, bud?”

“I’m fine. Just loud.” Macaque said. He was truly questioning his sanity by joining Wukong on the roof. Normally he barricaded himself in his room, but his friend was so thrilled about sharing their first New Year together he couldn’t say no.

“Oh.” Somehow the new set of fireworks didn’t look that attractive. “We can go inside if you want.” They were beautiful, but nothing was worth feeling helpless as his friend curled up in pain.

“I’ll be fine. I’m adjusting to the volume. No different than punches that break the sound barrier, right?” Macaque tried flashing a confident grin to varying success.

Wukong suspected that Macaque was lying, but learned enough to know further prying would just cause the other monkie to simply shut out the world. “I’m glad you’re coming with me.”

“You made a persuasive argument.” Anyone who could harass him for nearly five years straight proved their determination.

Wukong playfully stuck his tongue out. “Hehe…Seriously though, I’m happy you chose to be part of my tribe. No one should be alone.”

“Then why have I been for so long.”

“I doubt even Master knows. But you won’t be able to say that anymore.” Wukong wrapped his arms around his best friend. Pulling him close, Wukong faced the fireworks, unconsciously grooming Macaque as he savored every pop of color.

Beneath those gentle digits, Macaque steadied himself against the soothing heartbeat of the one he slowly learned to trust. As the display continued, the pale monkie learned to appreciate the human’s creations. Turns out they weren’t so bad so long as you have the right company.

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

“I’m sorry. You’re what?!” Macaque’s response was perfectly justified. There was no way he just heard what he thought he heard.

Wukong flashed a blinding grin. “I’m heading to the Celestial realm. I’ve been given a position in Celestial Bureaucracy.” Not seeing any problems whatsoever.

“Why?” Just why? From everything he heard about those stuck-up deities, they would never hand over a position to anyone without requiring the completion of an impossible task, much less to a demon. Least of all a demon who has done nothing but terrorize others and unleash chaos whenever he went.

“Don’t know. But I got to go right now.” Wukong shrugged as he finished packing. The Gold Star of Venus was waiting just outside the waterfall.

“But what about Flower Fruit Mountain? What about your subjects? What am I supposed to do? How long are you going to be gone?” Macaque fired off a rapid stream of questions. Panic was beginning to take hold.

Wukong, however, was as calm and confident as ever. “Stop worrying so much. Look I’ll be back as soon as I can. Until then you’re in charge.” He finished as though it was obvious.

“Me!” A white tail nearly burst into twice its normal size in shock. “But I have no idea how to run a Court!”

“Neither do I. Not in the traditional sense at least. Look just keep an eye on things. Protect the monkeys from hunters and malicious demons. Sometimes one of the allied demon kings will ask for some help. It’s nothing you haven’t helped me with before. I’ll be back before you know it. I’m sure you’ll be able to handle things until I get back.”

Seeing his companion and good friend growing even more lost, Wukong closed the distance and took his face in both hands. “This is a good thing. If I can make this work, none of us will ever have to worry about being hunted or not having enough food ever again.”

In a snap, Macaque grabbed the king’s arms. “What if I don’t care about any of that? What if I just want you to stay?”

For the first time in their conversation, Wukong’s cocky attitude vanished replaced with a loving smile. Gently prying Macaque’s claws off his shirt, Wukong placed his cheek on a palm as he kissed the knuckles of another. “I can’t. This is too good an opportunity to pass up. This isn’t goodbye. I’ll keep in touch. The time will fly. We’ll make this work. Trust me.”

“Alright, Wukong. I trust you.” Macaque said, ignoring every fiber of his being that screamed this would end poorly.

“If things go wrong, remember I’m just a telepathic call away.” Summoning his cloud, Wukong back flipped onto it with his bag. “Monkey King, out!”

One sonic boom later and he was gone, along with a good chunk of the cave walls.

“Hpmh. That’s my idiot.”

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

How did this happen? How did this happen?!

One moment they were fighting for their lives against the army of the Celestial Realm and the next Macaque bore witness to Wukong being carted away in a diamond snare.

Now as he stared at the charred remains of what once was a growing village of monkeys, Macaque felt something within him change.

For almost two months he had burned in celestial fires. The sounds of the dead and dying rang out, making his namesake almost bleed. He choked on the ashes of the mortal monkeys. The air had a strangely sweet and bitter taste to it.

Macaque lost count of all the times he charged back into the fires to save as many heartbeats as he could. He wasn’t sure but he suspected he blacked out more than once. With every heartbeat that stilled before he could reach them, a part of him followed them into Yama’s realm.

Finally, the fires had died down. They didn’t have anything left to burn.

All around him he saw the pitiful leftovers of what was once a thriving community. He had treated the survivors the best he could, but he lost his medical equipment in the blaze. The only ones he didn’t have to worry about were the monkeys Wukong made immortal, but he did what he could to ease the pain.

But still, he wondered why…why were they staring at him as though they were confused?

Maybe he was overthinking everything. He just worked through 49 days without any sleep. Everything was stable for now. The best course of action was to wash off the ash and get some much-deserved rest.

There was nothing the Celestial Realm could do to Wukong that he couldn’t handle. Besides Macaque didn’t even know how to get there even if he was at full strength. Wukong couldn’t die so it was only a matter of time before someone tripped up allowing him to return home.

He just had to be patient.

Stepping into the clear river, Macaque’s jaw almost dropped as the water around him immediately turned gray. He didn’t realize he was that filthy.

He started scrubbing himself, ducking under the water to ensure he didn’t miss a spot. He had to move a few times due to the sheer amount of shoot and ash that clung to him. The entire cleaning process took a full hour before the water ran clear.

Stepping out, Macaque felt more refreshed than he ever remembered. Shaking to remove as much access water as possible, all the towels were soot so he had to make do, he paused by the waterside to see how much fur he lost. But what he saw met none of his expectations.

Instead of fur that invoked images of the moon, he was cloaked in the color of the darkest ink.

“What happened to me?”

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

Five hundred years.

Five hundred years he searched, for any trace of the legendary Five-Fingered Moutain Buddha used to trap Sun Wukong only to find nothing. Macaque scoured far and wide. Neither the winds nor the shadows could lead him towards his friend.

He picked fights with countless demons who claimed to witness the great Monkey King brought low. It barely took two punches before they broke down crying how it had been nothing but a lie, how they only repeated rumors.

He bargained for any information he could find, but all accounts claimed the mountain didn’t exist. Many refused to answer him on principle of not interfering with the Celestial Realm’s issues. Their last mistake. Others took Wukoong’s punishment as a sign to amass as much power as possible out of fear that they would be targeted next.

Macaque had witnessed the formation of more alliances and territory grabs in the past century than had been recorded in the last thousand years. Demons were becoming more power-hungry and suspicious, which meant even more trouble for the humans. Things were becoming so chaotic, Macaque had to wonder if it was planned.

But he couldn’t dwell on that.

He hadn’t visited Flower Fruit Moutain in years. His clones kept guard, but slowly he was losing the drive to keep replenishing them. The only reason he called that mountain home was because of Wukong. It wasn’t home without him.

But he had to keep looking. Had to keep trying. He would find his friend.

Somehow.

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

He tricked himself into thinking this would be different. That he would no longer be alone. That finally he had found a family he could keep.

He was an idiot!

The truth was he was no different than anyone else. The world was Sun Wukong’s toy chest and Macaque was merely a shiny new trinket to bat around until he grew bored. Seeing him with that group, knowing that he chose them over their past, was too much.

He was sick of being left behind. He had been left alone so many times. What made him think he couldn’t be replaced?

He could have attacked, ripped their precious monk to pieces, he could have...should have...but he was tired.

Returning to Flower Fruit Mountain was a chore, but one he swore he would never complete again. The monkeys questioned his return, asking where their king was and if he’d return soon. Macaque ignored them all. He simply walked to the part of the manor he and Wukong had shared for years, where he had been waiting for his return.

Staring at all the knickknacks and souvenirs they had collected from their adventures, Macaque made up his mind. Grabbing a large sturdy bag, he swiftly packed his essentials. In another, he packed non-perishable goods and water containers.

Stepping out, a flash of something peach-colored caught his eye. Spinning around, hope burning a hole in his chest but his dreams once more were proved false. It was just the special peach tree Wukong had planted from the leftover pit he had saved from his time in the Celestial Realm. Apparently, it had reached maturity and was proudly bearing the first fruit Macaque had seen despite having been planted nearly half a millennia ago.

Macaque wasn’t sure why it was so special, Wukong just winked and said it was a surprise for when they could share a fresh one. Feeling something wet on his arm, Macaque looked down to see his hand stretched towards the tree and the memories he held. Feeling his cheeks, he realized he was crying, which was strange as he didn’t think he had any tears left.

Spurred by longing and spite, Macaque plucked six peaches from the tree and stuffed them into his bag. It wasn’t like Wukong was going to miss them. And he needed the food.

[pen-observing]

My Only One iv - final

Diavolo and you have been together for a century. While time flies, the last decade has not been kind to either of you. He is about to become the King and while you have subjected yourself to transformations, just to live with your beloved, the pressure is unending. You live your life publicly. It is no luxury. Not having an heir when 100 years have passed tears you apart- just as much as it divides those that you inevitably rule. A solution comes like the last ray of hope. Go to an enchanted fortress used for fixes of the worst kind. Subject yourself to even more hexes to have the possibility of producing an heir. It’s just for a year. A short time for those immortal. A long time for those in a complex relationship, especially when for the sake of efficiency, letters are the only means of communication you are allowed to have with outsiders.

Warnings: none

i / ii / iii / _   

To say that your feet felt lighter and the frozen ground finally melted after the letter from the brothers would be an understatement.

Hope. Hope in its trues form finally existed for you again. Too many years did hope have the same colour as Diavolo’s eyes. You almost forgot other potent sources of such a feeling. My dear, you forgot that hope was held within.

As your sanity finally made peace with your inner being; everything else started to fall into place. Diavolo’s paragraphs upon paragraphs; drawing a lie within a dream still stung; but, you did not go crazy. Power was flowing back to you.  

The letters from the brothers varied on topics decided by the hand that wrote them. Admittedly, based on the handwriting, some were easier to read than others. But their meaning; their essence; their love was never to be questioned.

Karasu was proud with the step-by-step recovery you were making. Those watchful eyes were full of kindness and wonder while you grew into a cheerful state. Well, as cheerful as the circumstances would allow.

The room wasn’t messy anymore. Your treatment was moving along smoothly. The interest about people in charge of you grew. They respected, while still being able to doubt, the genuine curiosity held from a future Ruler. They did not tell you everything but a difference between privacy and secrecy was established. Based on such occasions you managed to find out that one of the witches dedicated her whole life to this. She could never, ever, have kids because of a pact. However, seeing others live out that oh so feeble dream of hers; would mean happiness.

It was astounding that a pure motive existed within these walls. You marvelled at it. And life began to marvel at you.  

Month nine marked the witch leaping at you with such joy in the privacy of one of the examination rooms. She held your arms tightly. She delivered the news with a strong voice. “You, you! Your treatment exceeded every expectation they set! You can have children now! You can bear a child. You can give birth to Devildom’s future!”

The news shocked you. Now? Right now? This was as sudden as time itself.   What does this mean when you are unsure about the man who swore to be the best father? He also swore to be a true lover; look how that turned out.

But there was no way you could allow yourself to break in front of this person. There was no way your humanity would disrespect the witch’s joy for you; the life long dedication.

You gently held her hands with a genuine smile prompted by her honest hope. You thanked her from the bottom of your heart; even if it was still broken.

That interaction meant that the time of your solitude in this fortress was at its end. It meant you had to return to the frightening outside world. But how?  

The end that once was sure to spark joy was no more. Confusion was torturing you now; unrelenting. 

What now?

A long conversation with Karasu followed where you weighted every option of return. Should you notify Diavolo? What will you do once you see him again? Could you ever find a small corner of your heart that would ensure forgiveness upon the man you loved more than any other?  

Karasu knew you. Karasu patiently listened and answered all questions.  

It was decided that as a person who makes memories out of feelings; as an impulsive human who observes and makes decisions based on natural states- Diavolo would not be notified of your return.

You had to see him in his true state: unprepared, surprised; to realise if the relationship could be mended.  

The brothers however, will know. You are not ashamed to admit that you asked them a favour - making necessary preparations. Evoking the pact to make sure secrecy was upheld like a virtue. They didn’t mind. They knew you trusted them and this was just to ensure Lucifer’s silence to the man that betrayed you.

And in uncertainty, while lacking bravery; you set out. Back to the castle. Back home.

But the ride back was less pleasant than the experiments. Countless scenarios plagued your mind. Your sanity was seemingly throwing different conversations your way. 

Menacing. Dramatic. Sad.

Then suddenly in a leap of love- it hit you with grandiose romantic gestures of apology. Honey words that felt true.  

What will Diavolo do when you meet again? Everything depended on that.

Could it be that he even betrayed those daydreams of yours? Stepping outside, in front of the gate, clearly showed that fate would not answer your questions soon enough. 

Time, bewildering time, my dear.

Diavolo did not welcome you- Barbatos did. How expected of him to be so calm by your sudden return. His demeanour always amazed you. Even while expressing his surprise upon such a turn of events he remained eloquent. Almost idyllic.     

The man controlled time, he toyed with it in an intricate dance; why were you so surprised? Was it because in those daydreams, in those silly expectations of yours; Diavolo was the only man you wondered about? Where was he right now?

Barbatos led you inside the tea room. Was he toying with you now as well?  

This room. This intricately decorated room was always your favourite inside a castle which felt enormous; never ending. Ceaseless. The word home could have been this room by itself. Why?  It was always warm. Cozy.  It was where you would spend time while Diavolo was relentlessly busy.  It was where you would relentlessly force him to take breaks.

Most of all, It was where the two of you existed outside of pressure. It was where the two of you kissed for the first time. Countless nights of love and pleasure happened right here.

Barbatos was definitely toying with you. If he did not become a close friend over all of these years you would have cursed him out.

He brought a sweet aroma in your favourite tea cup.   Yup. He set it down with a gentle smile. You definitely would have cursed him out for using gold-lined tea cups Diavolo gifted you.

Your eyes stayed on his figure while, unable to resist, the cup found way into your hand. There was no need to ask Barbatos anything. He remained a perfect butler.

“My Lord will be here momentarily. If we were notified of your return, we would have cleared his schedule.”

A slip up.  Barbatos made a mistake. Unfathomable.

His words were serene once again. Just like when you departed. The surface of the water is serene, what goes on below? What did his seemingly simple words hide?

Did he say it on purpose? Did he do so out of care for you?  

“Barbatos.”  

You have to be brave now more than ever my dear. Barbatos gave it away in case you were not aware. How kind of him.

“Yes? Is there something not to your liking?” “I noticed how you referred to Diavolo as my Lord, not our. This had changed since I left.”

Silence. Continue to be brave.

“I know Barbatos. I know that his hands have touched someone else. I know that he slept with them in our bed.”

Your voice was flat. Barbatos stayed silent out of respect for you. In reality, his masqueraded words meant much more. How could Barbatos, utterly loyal, admit that he himself considered Diavolo weak? His Lord was weak for the temptations. He could never say, but you knew.  

In that moment, rushed footsteps echoing outside in the hallway reached you. The door sprung open swiftly. In such speed and urgency unseen before. Diavolo stood there. In disbelief. Marvelling at your sudden return in ardent admiration.

He stood there, breathless from running to see you.  For months now this tea room was devoid of your presence. For months now he longed for your return. Oh how Diavolo yearned to open this door and see your form blessing it.

And here you were. Magnificent. Radiant.

Barbatos had to interrupt this moment because peace could not exist after what was spoken. He turned towards the door, walking out. His lips parted open for a whisper to Diavolo. “They know everything.”  He gracefully exited. Diavolo stood still, unable to meet your gaze.

He deserves this shame.

You sat there looking at him. He was breathless, bewitching. ...But was it because of excitement for you? His hair was messy, his tie was loose.

Was this the work of the other woman? His whore? When was the last time her fingers touched him so intimately?

How pitiful was it to glance up at him like this.

My dear, why do you call the woman a whore? Diavolo was the strongest man of them all. He was no easy target. Why do you make it sound like she took him? He gave himself away. He probably seduced her.

You stood up. Smiled at the man undeserving of kindness. He saw it. He saw it and yet his eyes still avoided yours. 

Guilt. For the first time,perhaps ever in his life, Diavolo was hesitant.   Approaching you like this was a confession of his betrayal.

He stayed silent as your hands gently fixed his tie that someone else tugged on not too long ago. “This is no way to present yourself. Do you wish for them to say the future King grew messy?”

How ironic was this rhetorical question phrased just like the one on the day you left? How much of a paradox was this position identical to the way you two said goodbye in love?

Diavolo still loved you.  

That much you knew when his hand grabbed yours in a desperate attempt to keep you close. To keep the magnificent presence within this room. His serious gaze was solely focused on you. If only you were the sole partner.

His deep voice, filled with regret, still charmed. “One word from you and she will be banished forever. I adore you. I was helpless without you around. That is what made me so weak to fall into this predicament. I love you. You know that.”

His fingers intertwined with yours. A pathetic attempt. How dare he cite your absence as his justification?! There is a clear difference between that justified and that which was just an excuse.  

If you had to say anything to get the other woman out of the castle it was already pointless to try and rectify this broken trust; broken love; between the two of you.

Good observation my dear, the other woman became pregnant while you were still receiving treatment. She gave him something you sacrificed every part of yourself for.

“Diavolo...” Your soft voice trailing off already told him the conclusion he was dreading. Begging to avoid. He knew of your humanity; he knew how pitiful he was. Diavolo, despite everything, still was enough of a man; enough of a lover, to know he had to respect your decision.

Your hand slipped from his hold. He remained still. Like a statue of a fallen hero.

“Diavolo, huh?”, a deep sigh. How long had he not heard you call his name? Was this the tone he must remember the end by? He cannot have that. His heart cannot have that. 

“Beloved, please. Just once more. It would be a tragedy to part like this. Have you really stopped loving me?”

You knew what he was asking for. How kind of you to fulfil his wish; gently fixing a few strands of his hair, while love still lingered in your eyes.  My dear, this is almost cruel from you.

With those eyes you looked into his. Gave him a sad smile and graced him, graced his wish, in a soft voice.

“My only one, my love belongs to those that are faithful.”

(I hope you have enjoyed reading it until now. I wonder how you feel and if you like it. Feel free to talk to me and ask me questions if you have any. Your feedback is treasured. I promise you. Posting this at 1:34am tho has me feeling a bit loopy. Is loopy a word? Unsure. However from the bottom of my heart- thank you for reading until now.)