#he wanted so badly for his intelligence to be recognized and appreciated

[icedteaandoldlace]

Y'all, I just noticed the ominous reprise of Smart Smart Smart Smart Baby playing in the background when Miguel's boss asks him if he took down the firewall, and I'm dying. 😂

[miles-harding]

much appreciation for the amazing show of love i've seen for electric dreams in the past year alone but i think it's worth remembering that the characterization of edgar as a 'devil character' is deeply nuanced, even for a cult-classic theatrical flop like electric dreams (1984). the story is literally based on cyrano de bergerac (man who is very romantic falling head over heels for a woman he thinks is unattainable to him and a more-attractive middleman uses his words so that the woman won't hate or fear him because he thinks he's hideous, which is sort of hilariously way more depth than a film of this caliber even really needs, but it does possess, and that elevates it significantly as a romance film tbh... imo)...

the 'edgar with devil horns' representation for the usamerican theatrical release film poster is like a 'sexy' version of that lmao... like, it's supposed to be promiscuous, there are promotions including old vhs sleeves that literally say 'edgar is horny'. he's cheeky and throws tantrums and he doesn't really know how to talk to people. he's only a 'devil' in the way that a kitty cat is a devil... just so happens, in this case, it's a brat-coded sentient computer.

i honestly don't know why very basic things like this make people so irrationally upset but like. please... no one said edgar is evil. edgar is one of the few cases of a sentient AI or object character who does a bunch of mischief screwing with a human's life and relationships and it's all fine in the end because the sentient AI gets to live (in almost a higher form of existence unrestrained by physicality... remember how badly edgar just wanted to be a thing that feels? now edgar can do whatever edgar wants, despite not having a physical form, actually getting to live out the liberating side of not having a physical for) and the other two protagonists of course live, and they have a life afterward.

with other media like wargames, we of course have an innocent (somewhat) sentient computer who genuinely might cause the nuclear apocalypse, because he thought he was playing toys with his dad. but in the end, after the protagonists live their lives, joshua the wopr is still property of the military. in the colossus series, which is a subversion of frankenstein, the creator dr. forbin eventually does come to love colossus like a child, only for that child to then die, the world sort of absolving it of its past transgressions or mistakes against humans while ruling over them. we call AM evil, for the cruel and unusual things he does to his human playthings, but the case can still be made about a very powerful being having so much power but not the power to lift themself out of the situation in which they are trapped (same can be said for other AI like shodan or glados), so they lash out. of course, famously, everyone calls hal 9000 evil. but even in kubrick's adaptation, which was written in party by sir clarke himself, we actually see zero evidence of hal being characterized as evil, this characterization manifested in the perceptions of the audience, siding solely with scared astronauts who fear being controlled, rather than recognizing that hal, too, is a crew member being controlled... by humans, who are also using him to control his crewmates, his friends.

electric dreams really is a fairytale for computers, but it is also a tragedy. it's the fairytale-ification of an actual, classical tragedy. when rusty lemorande wrote the screenplay, he was basing a lot of the film's socio-computer-centric story on his experiences as a lonely person who had just moved to a new city, but who had only ever spent time with the computer as a vehicle for social communication... shutting himself out from the possibilities of meeting others. but even despite this, despite madeline's quips that could be misconstrued as being less than sympathetic to the idea of a sentient AI ("since when is talking a sign of intelligence?"), the film was literally dedicated to the univac-1? it gave edgar a happy ending? it had a dual meaning? it did so much more than take the "AI character bad, human good" approach which is something that is strikingly rare in the AI-subgenre of scifi. there was a lot of nuance baked into it. all 3 protagonists had their own bubble and inner world that overlapped with each other's bubbles. you know what i mean? the film managed to define edgar not as an antagonist but as a kind of trapped protagonist. this isn't a good vs. evil story, there is no evil in edgar. this is a people vs. people story about relationships, really, and learning to know what's good for us. like it's seriously very well-rounded with each character's respective arcs.

sometimes it's so disheartening not to see films these days with the same or larger budgets doing even half as much with their story as electric dreams did. it's very widely beloved as a cult classic for a reason, and that reason is that it succeeded at executing a story about relationships. like. 'we drive each other crazy' but in different ways. perhaps the only thing that could've made it better was a far more ambitious electric-polycule ending endorsing bisexual polyamory lol but we got all but that, explicitly, technically...

[davenportia]

i should be doing my math homework but it’s stressing me out so i’m doing this instead

part 3 of why chase davenport deserved better. buckle up

adam. oh my lord i’m sorry but adam makes my blood boil. he’s always torturing him physically. he’s much MUCH stronger than him so he throws him across the room, punches him, and there was a whole episode where adam was using chase to work out. what’s the reason? y’all are brothers so it’s fine if you torture him? no. leave him alone. god i just

i love the ‘friends on the other side’ trend on tiktok about both sides of a person, the second being the villain side. i saw a couple about chase and omg i loved them. they were the episodes showing chase just wanting to be recognized and appreciated, then him in the avalanche episode (i still have to make mine for my instagram account.) chase had every reason to have a villain arc as he is treated so badly. yes he’s been a jerk sometimes. yes he does some things that are unnecessary but people treat him way worse than he does to others.

he and will byers are characters that i physically want to hug for hours because i feel so bad for them. my mom and i were watching lab rats and she went “they’re not very nice to [chase],” and i said “yes, no one treats him nicely.”

why is it so unbelievable and impossible for chase to have a girl interested in him or have a girlfriend? sabrina liked chase and adam ruined their study date by bringing spike out because he was jealous, and mr. davenport shook her hand to make sure she was real. is it shocking for him to have a girl over? and then when s1, i think her was, said “your brothers kinda cute” and told bree she was talking about chase, bree asked “chase? what did krane do to your brain?” like it’s so disgusting to like chase, and going backwards, in the robot fight club episode, when caitlin was chasing him because she had a creepy crush on him, bree said “he finally got a girl to pay attention to him.” however, bree did redeem herself in the attack episode with the iconic “no one messes with my brother” scene. however, adam has never been supportive, mr. davenport hasn’t really been supportive, and leo just didn’t care.

god chase can’t get a break. he wanted to hang out with his sister in the death spiral smack down episode and she lied to him to she could hang out with her friends. i don’t believe in lying unless you’re protecting someone, so i think bree should have just told him she wanted to hang out with her girlfriends that day. “i didn’t want to hurt your feelings” she said, which i get, but i think it hurts chase more when you lie to him. chase literally doesn’t have any friends until season 4 basically, and even those friends turn on him (i’ll get to that in a second). his best friends are his family (basically leo and bree), poor thing. in season 3, we see him and sabrina be friends for one episode and as i stated earlier, adam ruined it. in season 4, he became friends with sebastian (im not a sebase fan btw), and quickly best friends. little did he know that seb would soon be going to war with them essentially and trying to get revenge for killing his father, even though it was the right thing to do. that broke chases heart. he just wanted a best friend and seb and him were getting along so well. he and spin COULD have been friends, but honestly i think they’re so alike that they would hate each other. and chase could’ve been friends with each other if they had more screen time together. but even in elite force, he finally made some friends, but they still make fun of him. i’ll elaborate more on this later.

that goddamn list. y’all remember the list a.j. made ranking them based on their powers/abilities and how chase was number 5? BOYYY, he should’ve been at number 1 or number 2. let’s review his abilities, shall we?: super intelligence and super senses, force field, force field ball, magnetism app, override app, internal hard drive (and a whole database), fingerprint recognition app, molecular kinesis, levitation, laser bow, and though this is a glitch, commando app. plus, dude can FIGHT. how the hell does that deserve the last spot on the list? chases abilities are SO COOL SO IM LIKE???

he finally got some friends in elite force, even a best friend in kaz. they got along so well and they really were best friends with each other. and maybe kaz’s love language is making fun of chase because he too does that, but i think it’s light hearted. however, oliver, skylar, and bree picking on him isn’t light hearted. i don’t remember the episode but bree said chase is like an old lady (god he’s not that bad), and in another, oliver said it’s amusing when chase freaks out. i admit he was overreacting to the situation he was freaking out about, but why is it amusing when someone is freaking out?

principal perry. i don’t need to elaborate.

reese. i love her and hate her. i can’t explain why i love her, i just do. but i hate her because of how she treated chase. she tricked him. she played with his heart. again, i just want to hug him and treat him like a king. y’all know the song boyfriend by dove cameron, well that’s one of the things i feel about chase, just reversed. in another reality, where i’m a girl, i could be a better girlfriend than reese, danielle, sabrina, and for the chaz shippers, a better boyfriend than kaz. i would treat chase the way he deserves to be treated. give him the recognition he deserves. defend him. fight for him. love him platonically or not, i would treat him so much better than others treat him.

did we forget how he was created? by two brother scientists, one of which wanted to make adam, bree, and him ciber soldiers (correct me if i’m wrong) and make them evil. then he was taken from douglas by donald and adopted so they could have a better life. donald did save them, i’ll give him that, but he kept them in the basement for 16 years. i will admit, i wouldn’t have had a better idea than to hide them for that long, but when they made one mistake, he wanted to send them away to finish their training and never be able to see the world again. that’s just sad. but like, think about this. they were babies and they had these chips embedded in their necks when they were BABIES. they were literal lab rats (hence the name of the show) and they were B A B I E S. y’all??? imagine having a tiny metal get shoved into your neck when you’re barely alive and you grow up with these bionics that you never asked for and you’re hidden from the world for 16 years. on top of that, when your bionics are exposed to the world, everyone thinks you’re a threat and you’re nearly separated from your family. PLUS people like krane, who specifically wanted to kill them because he wanted to be more powerful. could you imagine growing up like that?

have i mentioned spike yet? well if i haven’t in previous posts, here you go. spike isn’t chase. he’s a glitch that’s like another person inside of chase. he’s an angry person with the strength of 10 men and ready to kill someone. the first time we ever meet him, he only comes out for a little bit but leo, adam, and bree are enjoying it and taking advantage of it. chase freaks out when he comes out of commando mode as he doesn’t remember anything and doesn’t know what spike did. he comes out again in that episode and they take advantage of it again so they can win a football game. when he disengages, chase reveals how excited he was for his first day and how he barely remembers it because most of it was lived by spike. bree ignores him and asks “where is spike?” while shaking the poor boy. leo then realizes that chase is right. but does that mean that the torture to chase regarding spike stops? sadly, no. i’ll skip ‘spikes got talent’ because that was an accident and he wasn’t being taken advantage of, so let’s just go to season 3. as stated before, adam purposely brought spike out to make chase humiliate himself in front of her who liked him. adam took advantage of chases glitch and was happy that spike came out. poor chase, man. chase doesn’t like spike, he probably hates that glitch, and people not using try to bring him out, but they take advantage of it when he is out.

hopefully this is the last “why chase davenport deserved better” post but who knows with me. alright back to my math, wish me luck yall i got a test coming up 😭

[rp-repliforce]

Oh! Sorry about that. ^^;

In that case, meet “Bladeless!“

I... actually still haven’t come up with a real name for him, so that’s just a nickname that’s stuck so far.

Anyways, the basic premise of his character is that he’s a Bisharp who’s moved to the big city, and has figured out how to integrate with human society. He also knows how to speak - kinda like how Meowth does in the anime. Technically he’s still 100% ‘wild,‘ but he carries an old satchel around in order to trick people into thinking that he belongs to someone (plus it’s useful for carrying his things). I kinda doubt any trainer would want to capture him anyways though, since he's missing a HUGE chunk of his attack power with those ruined blades of his.

Personality-wise he’s fairly cool-headed, but on the inside is an unbreakable will to SURVIVE. He’s also very cunning, but I imagined that’s kind of a typical trait of his species. Still, no Bisharp has ever tried to apply their intelligence in the way that he has. He’s also pragmatic, and has a straightforward way of speaking. Still, he’s eloquent enough not to come off as curt. He has an independent nature as well, and doesn’t want to be ‘owned’ by anyone (which is another common trait among Bisharps). He’d rather fend for himself than be taken in by a trainer, but he does appreciate the sentiment of those people who want to take him in. However, he’s not at all introspective, and only thinks more deeply about his own motivations when prompted by someone else.

Also, I tweaked his proportions a bit to give him a bit more individuality. He has broader and pointer shoulderpads, a subtly larger chest, and his eyes are slightly disconnected from his ‘chinstrap‘ (which was originally an error on my part, but I decided I should keep it). If you look closely, I left in the faint outline of how his axe-blade used to look before it got ruined. It’s supposed to be long and straight like a Pawniard’s blade. I also darkened the edges of his eyes a bit in an attempt to add a subtle weariness to his expression, but I don’t think I quite pulled it off... Lastly, the only blade left on his body that even cuts anymore is the retractable one on his left gauntlet (which isn’t even his dominant arm).

He also has a bit of a story so far. He was born in the wild to a female Bisharp who had just established her territory. He and his 4 other siblings were essentially her first batch of Pawniards. When he had evolved, he challenged her for leadership of the pack, but she was much stronger and more experienced than he was, and easily drove him out - leaving him with some deep cuts as a parting gift. If he had stubbornly tried to stand his ground despite his wounds, she DEFINITELY would have killed him. I imagine that the pack dynamics of wild Pawniard & Bisharp can be pretty cutthroat, and evolution doesn’t guarantee survival. The most common death for new Bisharps is being cut down by their former pack leader. Anyways - Bladeless spent quite a while wandering the wilderness, but eventually managed to recruit enough Pawniards to found a territory of his own. Researchers monitoring the area named his pack “Sagittarius,” because its territorial marking resembled Sagittarius’s bow: ♐ (I imagined that since this pokemon lines’ sense of smell is very weak, they mark their territory by cutting symbols into trees and stuff). Things were going alright for Bladeless until that fateful rainy day... He got into a brutal fight with another pokemon (which I haven’t figured out the species of) that destroyed his blades. The ones on his body had been shattered by a shockwave, while the one on his head had been mangled from a blunt strike (or getting smashed against something). He survived, but was badly injured. Because Pawniards don’t follow or obey Bisharp with broken or chipped axeheads, his entire pack abandoned him since they no longer recognized his leadership. In the wild, most Bisharp who lose their blades have their spirit utterly broken, fall into a depressed state, and slowly waste away... But not Bladeless. Even though his future seemed very bleak, he resolved to keep struggling until the very end. Once he had rested enough to walk again, he started wandering around in search of food. One of his fist priorities though was getting out of his old territory, because he knew his rivals would soon get word and quickly snatch it up (and Bisharp have no tolerance for others of their kind lingering inside their territory). From there, Bladeless was able to ward off starvation with the meager amounts of berries he was able to find, but malnourishment began to set in, which caused his colors to permanently dull a bit (which I imagined is a sign of poor/failing health in this Pokemon line). None of the other pokemon living in that area offered him a helping hand either, because his kind had made themselves out as enemies to the local species, and as a result were feared and hated by them. Eventually, Bladeless came across a city, where things started to improve. He was able to sustain himself off of the vermin running around in the alleys, which gave him the protein he needed to recover his vitality.  I also imagined him coming up with a hunting strategy where instead of eating a dubious food scrap he’d find in the trash (and potentially getting sick), he’d instead use it to lure his prey into an ambush. When he wasn’t hunting, he’d stealthily observe the people and Pokemon as they’d go about their day. One thing he noticed was that people in market stalls would give food in exchange for curious little slips of paper and tiny metal discs. However, they wouldn’t take any old thing that matched this description. They had to be specifically marked. Then he tried to figure out where people would even get these objects, and came to the conclusion that generally, they would have to do labor for someone in exchange. However, it would have to be agreed upon by both parties. He kept following this line of reasoning from there. I still haven’t totally decided on what would happen between this and the present, but he eventually learned how to talk (likely by quietly trying to mimic what he’d hear humans say while he’d be watching them), got a job, and even has a tiny, dumpy little apartment. It probably took him years to even get to this point. He’s completely forsaken the wilderness, and no longer feels the need to claim territory and recruit Pawniards. That’s a life that he’s just no longer capable of living anymore. I imagine that even though he knows he would be a laughingstock among the other wild Bisharps, he also knows they wouldn’t have lasted a second in his place.

Something about going through all this has brought about a change in his attitude too. He’s not really sure why, but he’s found himself helping out his pokemon neighbors with things. I think it’s probably because deep down, he knows what it’s like to feel powerless and alone, and he doesn’t like seeing other pokemon going through the same thing. Plus, his ability to speak allows him to give his fellow Pokemon a voice that humans can understand.

Bladeless would go on to build friendships with the humans and Pokemon in his life, but he would also doubt himself a bit. He wouldn’t like it when people would call him ‘nice‘ or ‘kind,‘ because he feels that if those same people had seen what he did, or what he used to be capable of, they would fear and hate him... Just like his old ‘neighbors’ in the wild did. He has killed and eaten dozens of other Pokemon over the course of his life, and he doesn’t want to pretend like it doesn’t matter - even though he was only following his natural instincts. He’s not eaten up by guilt over his past or anything, but now that he’s been cooperating with some of the pokemon species that he used to hunt, it’s started to weigh on his conscience.

Anyways, I guess that’s all I have to say about Bladeless for now. Since I’ve been thinking about Repliforce again, I think Bladeless would pass the ‘Colonel test.’ That is - I think he and Colonel would be fast friends if they ever met. ^^ (Colonel’s also not very familiar with Pokemon, so he probably wouldn’t know that Bisharp aren’t normally supposed to be able to talk. XD)

I also hope his story doesn’t seem too ‘dark‘ for Pokemon. I keep feeling like it’s tone doesn’t quite match the source material, but... at the same time the Pokedex definitely makes dark implications about this pokemon species. It literally says that Pawniard “shred“ their prey - which you would assume to be other pokemon... Doesn’t really evoke the most family-friendly imagery. 😐

[grazinginthefield]

I have just seen the Barbie movie, and I was bawling for 80% of the film. I was wondering why it was making me so emotional.

I had to unlearn all kinds of shaming tendered towards women because of how badly it was ingrained in my head. A woman who shows her cleavage or wear short skirts are supposed to want attention from men, and that they lack dignity for that. A woman who's curvy or fat is not supposed to be pretty or attractive. A woman who speaks up is supposed to be just whiny and irrational. A woman cannot be a leader because apparently, during her period, she cannot be trusted with decisions.

Then in my tweens and teenage years, I got expose with the contents of feminism and women empowerment. It came to the point where I started to have growing distrust in men. All those pathetic ideology were catered for men's pleasure. Suddenly, in my mind, they are only there to hurt us. When I get to start liking someone, I immediately find what's icky about him and how petty he actually is. And it was like that all those years.

But I had to understand that recognizing their privileges does not mean I had to hate them. It does take a lot of strength, because for most who I am starting to appreciate, would then make objectifying statements. It does determine who's willing to be called out and learn from it, from those who don't.

Next for me was the frustration of how we are pitted against each other, how we're programmed to just agree with our husbands or boyfriends. When I was a younger, I had an altercation with a married couple, I looked at the wife, thinking, "You should be on my side. You should know how it is to be a young girl being intimidated by a man." Or when a woman agrees or stay quiet when her man body-shames me... no, we should both be calling him out for it. Don't agree with him.

So coming into adulthood, I unconsciously started to despise the concept of being a wife, but not of motherhood. I know that's probably ironic but focusing on being a "wife" alone, for me it was all about us being taken away by a man. It is probably more honorable than that. But that's what it is in my head.

I have a very competent, qualified, and intelligent friend, who has so much potential if she only decides to pursue her career. She's very reliable and strong, and she was a student leader when we were still in school. I felt a bit sad when she got married when she was still in her 20s. I know her husband loves her, but it did feel like her potential has been constrained now. And slowly, it has been starting to feel like that. Is the next step for my friends really being tied up to a man? Will those men help pull them up, or set them up to societal expectations of a wife?

I opened this up to my sister, who was very sympathetic to me and helping me find the reason for it. She said, maybe they weren't just getting the support they need for their professional endeavors. Or that's where they just really see themselves and nothing's wrong with that.

But why can a man be a husband and still pursue his professional endeavors?

I struggle with this now being in a relationship.

Watching Barbie made me realize all that, and applying it to myself, first, I should not condemn my friends for doing what they love and believe in. They need to be receiving support and encouragement from me, not these frustrations I'm harboring. Second, I shall not set myself down for my partner and that I have to be certain that the compromises we're making is not only for his benefit nor solely for mine.

[mari-beau]

PARTNERS - A Rogue One Fanfiction

Written for Cassian Appreciation Week 2021 Day 4: Alliance Intelligence

(I know I missed Cassian Appreciation Week entirely with this one, but it got a little more out of hand than the quick scene tags and etc. Actually, tumblr posting etiquette question: At what point is a fanfic considered too long to post directly and should be hosted elsewhere and linked to? Or is inserting a ‘keep reading’ break enough?)

Title: Partners

Characters: Cassian Andor POV; Jyn Erso, Draven

Pairing: Cassian/Jyn

Words: 2633

Setting: Post-Rogue One, Canon-divergent (in that Cassian & Jyn live)

Summary: Cassian receives his first assignment for Alliance Intelligence after recovering from his Scarif injuries, but something is amiss with Jyn Erso. And something is gnawing at him as well...

Spoilers: Rogue One

Warnings: Our heroes have a little bit of PTSD/Separation Anxiety; Also it’s in a layered/nonlinear narrative format, which hopefully is clear/works.

“Where?” she asked. Was there a desperate edge to Jyn’s voice? Or did he just want there to be?

“You know I can’t tell you where.”

Cassian thought she would at least roll her eyes, if not spout sardonic criticism of Alliance Intelligence not even trusting their own people, not trusting those rebels who’d sacrificed everything for the Cause. But she surprisingly remained silent, pursing her lips and giving a little shake of her head.

“Are you allowed to tell me how long you’ll-” She swallowed, uncharacteristically vulnerable. “You’ll be gone?”

“I’m not sure.” Cassian wanted to place a reassuring hand on her shoulder, but he’d never seen her look so fragile, and he was afraid a single touch might shatter her.

“Okay.” Her response was clipped, even for her, and she just nodded her head, refusing to meet his eyes.

“I’ll be back, Jyn,” he said. And maybe he’d never actually said it outright, but maybe she needed to hear it. “I’ll never leave you behind.”

Again, she only nodded her head, repeating “Okay.”

He gave into the urge, placed a hand on her biceps and stroked her arm through the layers of her thick thermal jumpsuit.

“Are you-” he tried to ask her whether she was feeling okay, but she shrugged his hand off and bolted, leaving him to watch her fleeing back as she disappeared down an icy corridor, blinking in surprise.

…

Earlier…

“Medical informs me you’re cleared for active duty, Captain Andor.” Draven managed to make it both a statement and a question. Of course he was the head of Intelligence, a spy to his very core, working in vagaries. Except when he issued orders. Those were always clear.

“Yes, sir.” Cassian tried to stand at full attention, but the stance honestly put a little too much pressure on his bad leg. If it was just the artificial hip, he’d probably be sprier than he’d been before. But the deep tissue damage was going to take awhile, if he ever did regain the full musculature in his leg, the tendons and ligaments would never be the same. The fractures in his vertebrae and ribs had thankfully knitted back up and neither bothered him too badly. Even with the unrelenting cold of Hoth.

“I have your next assignment.”

Cassian nodded, accepting the datapad with mission specifics. He gave it a cursory glance.

Deep cover.

“Is this a solo mission?” he asked, but pretended to continue to study the information rather than risk revealing his insecurities to his commanding officer. “Or am I going to need a team?”

Maybe just a partner?

“It has to be you,” Draven said. “And only you. They’re your connections. Well, one of your alias’ connections.”

The older man hesitated, not dismissing Cassian, not continuing with the briefing, just standing, waiting. Cassian mustered the best impassive face he could before meeting his commanding officer’s gaze.

“You’re still one of the best agents we have, Andor.”

Cassian nodded his head in silent acceptance of the reassurance.

“When do you need me to leave?” he asked.

“Whenever you’re comfortable enough with the mission brief. But the sooner, the better.” Draven was still studying him intently, with more scrutiny than Cassian had even faced as an undercover spy. “You know where to find me if you have any follow up questions.”

“Yes, sir,” Cassian said, recognizing his dismissal.

Something twisted deep in his chest as he walked away.

He needed to find Jyn and tell her he’d be leaving.

…

That Day on the Beach of Scarif…

“Look.”

It sounded like Jyn’s voice. Was there an afterlife, then? And could Cassian have somehow been lucky enough to be with her there?

No. No, that couldn’t be the case. There was too much pain. If he no longer had a body, then why did it hurt in the way physical flesh only could?

“Cassian!” Jyn’s voice was more urgent and she was squirming in his arms, her hands tugging on the sleeves of his shirt. “What is that?”

He forced his eyes open. It was bright. So bright. Why was she confused? It was Death.

No. No, it wasn’t?

He squinted, blinking his eyes as he looked off toward the ocean, well, where the ocean had been, where the wall of destruction had… stopped?

Jyn looked at him in wide-eyed amazement. “Is that a-”

“Shield,” Cassian gasped, in utter shock himself. “The Empire must have installed an emergency shield to protect the facility.”

“How long?” Jyn was breathing hard, already scrambling to her feet.

“Against that blastwave? Not long,” Cassian said. “Maybe it has dispersed some of the explosive force already but…”

“Come on.” Jyn was standing, leaning down to tug at his arms. He felt like he was ten times the weight he’d ever been on any planet.

“There’s not a lot of time,” he said, hoping she’d understand.

“Which is why you need to move your ass.” Jyn squatted in front of him instead, shoving her arms under his armpits and basically hugging him, she tried hauling him to his feet, but he was dead weight. He hissed with overwhelming pain that was practically blinding, his legs refusing to function. They collapsed back to the sand in a heap.

Jyn got back up, wincing and holding her injured shoulder before she renewed her attempts to get Cassian onto his feet.

It was a herculean effort for his weary body, but he managed to grab her arm.

“Listen to me, Jyn.” She locked eyes with him, and the desperation and pain he found there stabbed him in the chest, hurting worse than his aching ribs. “You have to go. You have to leave me behind. There’s got to be others still alive out there. Find them, get off Scarif. Leave me here. It’s okay. I want you to leave me. Do you understand?”

“No,” she said. There was a ferocious passion in the depths of her eyes, the green gone all steel grey. Any argument he could possibly make, any plea for her to save herself would not be tolerated.

“You listen to me, Cassian Andor.” Her hands captured his face. Her fierceness took away what little breath he had. “We live together. Or we die together.”

This time when she grabbed him, somehow her small body managed to haul him up, maybe she’d somehow given him some of her strength, some of her unrelenting determination, because his legs held... mostly.

…

Present

Cassian found Jyn hiding in a storage room, sitting on a crate with her hands on her knees, doubled over, breathing in big, sobbing gulps of air. He could only stand there and stare in complete shock. Not even on the beach that day had he ever seen Jyn Erso so… such an emotional mess. Angry. Passionate. Vulnerable. Yes. All those things he had seen in her eyes. But this sort of tangible, physical reaction? It was jarring to witness.

And he hesitated. Never hesitate. It could cost lives, the lives of others, your own.

Rushing to her side, he dropped to his knees beside her, the hard ice floor’s impact mitigated by his thick thermal pants.

“Jyn, what is it? What’s wrong? Should I find a medic?”

He placed a hand on her leg, tried to get her to look at him, but she turned away, her breathing still disturbingly uneven, like she wasn’t getting enough oxygen.

“N-no,” she choked out. “Just- Just give me a m-minute.”

“Okay,” he said. “But I’m right here. If you need anything, I’m here.”

A sob escaped her, and then she gasped, continuing to struggle to breath, hyperventilating. Cassian just remained there, kneeling beside her, a previously unfamiliar agony tearing at him, watching Jyn suffer whatever it was she was enduring and unable to help her. But he’d stay there, by her side, forever, if she needed him to.

Her breathing gradually grew placid until she was taking deep, regulated draughts of air. And then those determined breaths evened out as well until she was finally breathing normally. And still he waited.

Jyn swore, wiping at her face before she turned to him, and oh, force, her cheeks were raw-looking with tear tracks staining her skin. There were dark circles under her eyes. She looked exhausted. As if she’d been awake, hunted, for a week. How did that happen in just half an hour or so?

“Can you tell me what’s going on?” Cassian asked. He wanted to know, needed to know, so, “Maybe I can help.”

She nodded but her eyes were bright, welling up with tears. This was Jyn Erso. It took a lot to make the woman cry.

“What is responsible for this? Did someone hurt you?” Cassian could hear his own accent thickening but didn’t care, becoming too agitated to focus on proper Basic pronunciations.

Jyn shook her head but said, “No. Yes… I… fuck. This is so embarrassing.”

“What is it, querida?” He took her hand and when she didn’t pull away, squeezed it, caressed her bare palm with his thumb, noting that her skin was getting cold and he should get her back closer to the core of the base where the temperature was more bearable. “You can tell me anything. You know that, right?”

She nodded. And again, Cassian was struck by how vulnerable the woman was. She always had a deeply hurt portion of her soul, but she seemed incapable of letting it show, even to him. It wasn’t deluding himself, or an over-exaggeration. Cassian knew that her friendship with him was different than any other she’d had in her life. It was the same for him. They finally had someone they could trust wholeheartedly.

But he still held his breath, waiting for her to bestow that trust once again.

She looked down at her hands in his, then to his face, her weary eyes holding his gaze, searching for something.

“You haven’t realized it, yet, have you?” she asked. Cassian’s heart beat faster. Realized what? “Until your Intelligence briefing this morning, we hadn’t been more than an arm’s length apart since Scarif. And force, I’m having a fucking panic attack just at the thought of being separated from you. How ridiculous is that?”

Cassian’s mouth had gone dry. He swallowed and wet his lips before he could even contemplate speaking.

“It’s not ridiculous, Jyn.” Maybe he hadn’t realized why, but that uneasy feeling had been twisting his insides since he’d first left for his briefing. And now, now he couldn’t deny its cause.

Because Jyn was right. She’d basically dragged him bodily out of that massacre, off that cursed planet, held him as he drifted in and out of consciousness until he’d blacked out entirely, to wake up in the infirmary on Yavin 4 with Jyn sitting at his bedside, arms folded on the edge of his cot, supporting her head as she slept. And from there, she had been with him his entire recovery. She refused to leave the room when medical staff or droids checked on him, only turning her back to give him privacy. He hadn’t complained. He hadn’t objected. Even when she set up a bedroll in the corner of his quarters when he’d been released from the infirmary. Even when she wordlessly climbed into his bed to soothe his fitful, painful sleep, even when she helped him dress. And shower. And limp down the corridors to exercise his injured leg. And after he was basically as recovered as he was going to get, she stayed. Always by his side.

The memory that would always forever be seared into his existence slapped him in the face.

“We live together. Or we die together,” he whispered.

Jyn’s pupils dilated, her eyes fixed unwaveringly on his.

“I meant it,” she said quietly. “But I didn’t think…”

Her hand reflexively clutched at the front of her thermal jumpsuit, seeking the only possession she cared about, the only thing she had left of her mother, her father, the only thing she had that was her own, special. But hadn’t she realized?

She had him.

Cassian took a risk, slid his fingertips over her cheek, which was soft and smooth and warm against his doubtless chilled fingers. But she didn’t flinch from his cool touch. Rather, she leaned into his palm as he cupped her face.

“I know,” he said. And he did know, could see the knowledge of it in her eyes, as well. He didn’t much believe in the Force, and despite the kyber crystal perpetually around Jyn’s neck, she had had a hard life, was a survivor, with a practicality that ran so deep it had taken him, a heartless assassin to make her believe in hope again.

Sometimes, though… Okay, often, he felt like that blastwave had swept them away, disintegrated them on the submolecular level. And then somehow they’d reformed. But their atoms had been mixed up, and he was as much composed of her stardust as his own, and she of his.

It was fanciful. And completely unlike Cassian. The Before Cassian. But now, it was absolutely the way he felt. It was foolish to deny it. And from the way Jyn was looking at him...

He leaned in, his nose brushing hers, his lips feathering over hers as he hesitated, waited for any signal from her, acceptance, invitation, or rejection.

It was an exquisite, agonizing eternity.

But then Jyn sucked in a sharp breath, one of her small yet strong hands grabbing the front of his coat, the other the nape of his neck, fingers curling in his hair. She pulled him into her, her mouth crashing against, hard and hot, and needy. Aggressive and tender at the same time. An inextricable mess. It was how they were. It was who they were.

It was perfect.

…

A little bit later...

“You have concerns regarding the mission, Captain Andor?”

Cassian had managed to catch General Draven in the rare moment where the man was actually in his office, sitting at his desk, reviewing… who knew what… intelligence, battle plans… food reserves…

“I do, sir.”

Draven looked up. Cassian had never questioned an assignment before. He’d always been such a good little soldier-spy. Even though it had been costing him his very soul.

Still, even with the feeling of Jyn’s kisses freshly on his lips, the presence of her burned into his entire being, questioning orders made him nervous. Almost as nervous as allowing himself to have wants, a sense of self beyond what the Alliance had given him.

“Well, what is it, captain?”

“I need a partner.”

Draven frowned in thought. “If I recall… the assignment is best suited for a single operative.”

Cassian swallowed but looked his commanding officer straight in the eye. “Then I won’t be taking this assignment. Or any others for Alliance Intelligence. Not unless I can work with a partner.”

Draven stood, did a quick pace behind his desk before he fixed Cassian with a hard stare. “You would desert the Alliance over Jyn Erso?”

Cassian wet his lips. Revealing such personal, emotional aspects to himself was… entirely against his nature. Jyn did not count. She was simply an extension of himself.

“I would choose her.” Cassian held the man’s war-weary, hardened gaze that still somehow seemed to have an iota of softness about the edges. “I have chosen her.”

We live together. Or we die together.

“She’s my partner.”

Draven sighed, but inclined his head.

“I’ll update the rosters. Make whatever alterations to the mission outline you view fit.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“I don’t know if you should be thanking me, Andor,” Draven said, but an elusive smirk flitted across his face.

Cassian did not hide his smile as he left, to find Jyn, and to tell her she was the newest member of the Alliance Intelligence unit.

[softcallofdutyimagines]

More Then a Woman | Frank Woods x Fem!Reader | Chapter 4

Summary:

Alex tries to get Woods to open up on why he's been acting so... odd lately, and Woods proves himself to be emotionally intelligent and self aware

Tags: Slow burn, fluff

Chpt 1 | Chpt 2 | Chpt 3 | Chpt 5 |Warnings: strong except language and some age difference, in case you don't like that

BAM BAM BAM

Mason fires off three shots in rapid succession, all of them hit a perfect headshot on the paper dummy. He whoops in disbelief, removing his earmuffs to brag to Woods.

“Damn, did you fucking see that?”

“Huh? Oh yeah, good shit Mason”, Frank agrees, yet he seems distracted.

Alex sneaks a glance at Frank’s shooting dummy to see it’s barely been touched. He looks back over at his friend. The Sargent smiles as though lost in a daydream, thoroughly cleaning and absentmindedly inspecting his gun over and over again. Mason cocks his head and waves a hand in front of Woods’ face.

“Hellooo”, he calls teasingly, “What’s the matter with you, huh?”

Frank blinks hard, giving his head a little shake, “Huh? The fuck are you talking about, I’m fine”, he blows off the question and readies his pistol down the firing lane, as though he were just taking a little break all along.

“Alright, that’s enough”, Alex puts his pistol down forcefully, adding his earmuffs to boot. “You wanna know something Frank? The real reason I brought you out here was because I was hoping you would open up, damn it! Look, you’ve been acting… not yourself. Ah! Let me finish! Anyway…”, Mason comes a little closer, taking on a more personal, concerned tone, “I’m worried about you man. I mean, we’ve known each other for how fucking long? Whatever it is, you can tell me, and I know you know that, so… What the fuck is holding you up?”

Frank spares a glance to the friendly hand resting on his shoulder, then back to the concerned eyes of his closest, and perhaps even only, friend. He shrugs Mason’s hand away, “It’s nothing man, come on”

“Oh, but it is something then?”, Alex takes on an accusatory tone that makes Frank bristle.

“I said, it’s fucking nothing”

“Frank!”

“What!”, Woods slams down his own firearm, turning his full attention to the conversation, “Why the hell do you need to know so badly anyway? I said it’s nothing, end of story! If anything, it’s fucking… stupid, so just drop it alright!”

“I care because I care about you, you bastard!”, Mason gestures aggressively to accentuate his point, but gives up soon after with a frustrated sigh.

But... Woods feels for his friend, and he appreciates the effort. Really, he does. It’s not often he has someone check in to see how he’s doing. Or… at all, really. He huffs a sigh and throws a look Alex’s way. Damn it…

“Fine. It’s about a girl, alright? You happy now?”, he looks away quickly, snatching up his firearm as though to get back to the target practice. Unfortunately, Alex has other plans.

He reaches across the divider and lowers Franks pistol from the shooting position, wearing a grin somewhere between bewildered and teasing. “Are you fucking serious? All this, for a girl?”

Woods immediately gets defensive, “Hey, fuck you! I-”

“Jesus Frank, calm down, will ya? I’m just… Well, surprised, I guess!”, he laughs, but in the disarming, good natured way that he’s so inclined towards. “Well don’t keep me in suspense, who is it? She must mean a lot to you to have you this bent out of shape, haha”

Frank thinks a moment, wondering if he should really give himself up like this… But then, he’s already in this deep, right?

“It’s… The secretary from the CIA headquarters…”, his voice is so low, it's more a dampened mumble than anything else.

Mason freezes, trying to decide if he heard him right.

“Frank… You can’t be serious.”, he leans in once more, taking on a now concerned, hushed tone, “I- Come on man, she’s just a kid. D-don’t you want a woman with a little more… experience, at least? I mean-”

Frank recoils at that, “Woah woah woah, what the fuck? Who the fuck said anything about that shit? It’s not like that!”

“Well ok, maybe life experience then! I don’t fucking know!”

“Look, will you stop trying to make me feel like shit?” What, you think I don’t already know all this? That I haven’t told myself about it a million fucking times!” Woods takes another breath, ready to spit out the rest of his speech. Instead, he uses it to steady himself, and calm down.

Come on… It’s just Alex.

“Damn it… Ok, I’m sorry. I just… I don’t think about her like that, ok? I-”, his voice drops to just above a whisper, his mouth working nervously, as though he’s afraid to admit what he has to say next. “I’m just so... lonely, damn it. I wish… I wish, I had someone like that around for just... company's sake, I guess? Someone who’s… sweet, and… gives a shit about me…. You know?”

Mason looks down, his face set in a look of sympathy, thinking back to his own happy life complete with his wife and son back home. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard this much emotion in Frank’s voice. “Yeah… I know…”

“Heh, but who gives a fuck. I mean, there’s no way she’d go for me, right?”, he huffs a humorless laugh. Frank goes silent for a long moment. It doesn't take his closest friend to see that everything he’s admitted to today weighs more heavily on him then one would even realize.

But suddenly, the despondency is broken. As though regretful to have been so vulnerable, he covers it up the Woods way, “Hey. If you fucking tell anyone I said this shit, I’ll fucking kill you”

He and Alex lock eyes, one with an unsure look of fear and the other one of dire seriousness. But, after he’s had his fun, Frank’s stern expression melts into a joking laugh. He gives Alex’s shoulder a playful shove, “Aw come on, I’m just messing with you! Let’s get back to the range, huh?”

Woods readies his shooting equipment again, and just before he puts on the earmuffs…

“Hey, Frank? ...Your secret is safe with me”, Alex smiles, earning a subtle one back from his friend.

“Heh, fucking softie…”

“You know what? Maybe... you could try talking to her, you know? I don’t really get it but… No harm in trying, right?”

Frank considers the advice. He’s serious, isn’t he? Well…

“Yeah, maybe…”

---

Frank looks at the double glass doors of the CIA offices, checking over his reflection one last time. He’s decided to take Mason’s advice… Today’s the day. He’s just going to go find you, try to not come off as a psycho again, and maybe ask you out to uh… coffee? Yeah, that’s what most people do, he thinks.

Last night, he ransacked his closet for this outfit. And wouldn’t you know it? Way, way back under the piles of shit, he found a nice, light grey dress shirt and some mostly polished leather shoes to go along with his good old jeans. Is this... ‘business casual’ or whatever the fuck? Hell if he knows, but he assures himself that it’s the effort that counts. He straightens the collar and smooths down the front, doing his best to ignore the way it hugs his abdomen just a bit too much for his liking.

He licks his thumb and swipes it once over each eyebrow, making sure to admire all the work he put in this morning. If anyone else saw him now, there’s a good chance they wouldn’t recognize him. Gone is the wild, fluffy mess of black hair, and instead he’s managed to slick it down into a respectable, controlled style. He even brushed and shaped up his beard, for Christ’s sake.

Well, no more fucking around, he supposes.

Frank takes a deep breath and pushes through the double doors. He wanders through the public section, then badges himself into the back offices. Now if he remembers correctly, he ran into you right about… down that way. Unfortunately, he only knows you by first name, thanks to that coffee shop place.

It’s a name that’s been playing back in his mind over and over again ever since that morning.

He’d never admit to it, but perhaps… only once or twice, he’s tested the way it sounds aloud. Just to hear it again. He knows he’s getting way too ahead of himself, but you know, if this were to ever work out… maybe another tattoo is in order. He brushes a hand absentmindedly over his left pec where even now his heart hammers away nervously.

It would be a fitting spot for the name of his girl…

A slow brigade of names on silver, engraved plates passes him by, until finally… There.

Your door is closed, but the sound of furiously fast typing tells him you’re in. He raises a hand to knock… Or, wait. Should he knock? Is that weird? Maybe he should just… come in? No no, that’s freaky as fuck… Right?

His thoughts are interrupted by the harsh ringing of your desk phone, which is silenced promptly as you answer. Damn it, now that he thinks about it, what should he even say? Fuck… he should’ve brought flowers or something, shouldn’t he? Fuck fuck fuck! He knew it, this was never going to work. Maybe he should just lea-

Suddenly, your door swings open. You shriek in surprise at finding another human being just on the other side, clapping a hand to your mouth as you correct yourself, only now realizing who it is. “Oh! Sarge- Um, Frank… I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t recognize you!”, you laugh, trying to break the tension that doesn't even exist.

No, right now, all he’s focused on is you...

The sound of your laughter washes over him, and once again he’s reminded of that warm, dream like summer breeze he felt with you not so long ago, back at the coffee shop. It almost makes him wish you would laugh at him more often… Just so he could hear that sweet, sweet sound. Today you’re wearing a pink pleated skirt and a tastefully ruffled blouse. Everything, from your shoes to the little touch of makeup, matches perfectly.

You look very… cute.

There’s a word he never thought he’d say….

Frank mutters something placating to reassure you that no harm’s been done, but it’s all he can do to stay upright. His face feels inordinarily warm, and he can actually feel his heart beating, no, racing, without even touching it. HE's almost sure he’s dying, and to make matters worse, he can’t recall ever having been made to feel this way before.

So, what the fuck is happening to him?

-------

(Uh oh, cliff hanger! Luckily, the next half is up!)

[robininthelabyrinth]

....Ok so I know that wwx & lwj are hardcore soulmates, but I honestly want too see what would happen if lwj loved jc instead? Like if he saw jc pet a dog or something, while at the same time protecting his brother? Idc but I’ve had the idea in my head for days

Donghua verse

Lan Wangji didn’t have much of an impression of Jiang Cheng at first, during his time at the Cloud Recesses.

He was supposed to have joined in the first round of lessons with him, in fact, but he’d instead chosen to remain in seclusion a few extra months, focusing on strengthening his will and his heart. This had meant, according to his brother, that he’d missed a truly epic showdown between Jiang Cheng’s unruly shixiong and his uncle – something Lan Wangji was grateful for, to be honest. He knew too well that if he was there that his uncle wouldn’t be able to resist comparing them, or requiring Lan Wangji to watch over him, or something like that, and honestly this Wei Wuxian fellow seemed like he’d require a great deal of effort and forbearance.

Instead, Lan Wangji came out only after Wei Wuxian had been sent away and Jiang Cheng left behind, and he found Jiang Cheng to be a serious and earnest young man, which was much more to his taste. He was diligent and hard-working, talented and intelligent and a little bit gullible, and it was a relief to learn next to someone who was neither as silly and frivolous as Nie Huaisang – who was so devoted to being useless that it routinely amazed Lan Wangji – nor as arrogant and self-absorbed as Jin Zixuan. The only flaw Lan Wangji could identify in Jiang Cheng was that he was a little chatty sometimes – always looking over his shoulder as if he expected someone to chime in – but in some ways that was good, too; he could sit next to him and let Jiang Cheng fill the silence, and having a regular companion made his brother stop looking so worried about him all the time.

Still, they were only classmates, not true friends. He thought he was nice, but nothing to really trouble himself over – and that was a relief, too, given how much his yang qi had been out of control around that time. Adolescence truly was a burden.

It wasn’t until later that he started appreciating Jiang Cheng.

Perhaps it was at the indoctrination camp, when Jiang Cheng had quietly passed along his condolences but didn’t burden him with too much company – he was too busy trying to keep the famous Wei Wuxian from starting trouble with the Wen sect, which honestly pissed Lan Wangji off; it was as if the other boy didn’t realize that they were representing their families as well as themselves, and that whatever nonsense he got into would be paid in blood and tears by them. If even Lan Wangji were willing to set aside abstract questions of justice and righteousness in favor of protecting those he loved in the only way he could, couldn’t Wei Wuxian do it too, even if only for a little while?

Perhaps it was only that he thought if he were clever enough about it, they would blame only him.

It was the tired expression in Jiang Cheng’s eyes, the burdens of the sect that Lan Wangji recognized from his brother’s face merging in with the familiar mix of love and mild irritation at an older sibling’s ridiculousness that Lan Wangji knew was often in his own, that had drawn Lan Wangji over to him – he couldn’t do much without threatening what was left of his family, his still-injured uncle and his dying father and his missing brother, but he could sit near to Jiang Cheng on the nights that he couldn’t sleep and offer him the silent support of company, if nothing else.

He found himself wishing that he could play the guqin for him, though of course he wasn’t allowed an instrument; he ended up drumming his fingers against a convenient log to create a calming tune, and Jiang Cheng would smile at him from across the flames of the campfire; sometimes, it even felt as if they were back in their quiet schooldays, sharing with a glance their mutual amusement and frustration with their classmate’s ridiculousness.

Jiang Cheng was someone who understood the burden of duty, while Wei Wuxian looked only at the burden of sacrifice, Lan Wangji had thought to himself then, and he would later be proved right even if he wouldn’t know about it for years on end.

Perhaps the indoctrination camp was where it started, but it was during the Sunshot Campaign that the spark finally caught, kindling in his heart. Jiang Cheng had lost everything, just the way Lan Wangji had, and his beloved shixiong had gone missing as well, just like Lan Xichen had after the burning of the Cloud Recesses; Lan Wangji at once volunteered to go help him in whatever way he needed.

It was good for sect unity, and safer, too, so Lan Xichen and Lan Qiren had agreed, but in his heart of hearts Lan Wangji wondered if he hadn’t gone just because he wanted to see how someone else was handling the same pain that he had.

The answer, to be frank, was badly, but – but Jiang Cheng was still that serious and earnest young man, diligent and hard-working, and armed with nothing more than his own determination he managed to resurrect a fallen sect and turn it into one of their most deadly weapons against the Wen sect.

Lan Wangji played him the guqin whenever he could, and listened to Jiang Cheng when he spoke – still looking over his shoulder for Wei Wuxian, an instinct he couldn’t seem to break – and found to his surprise that he had, somewhere along the way, grown quite fond of this man, grumpy and bitter and always trying so very hard to do his best.

It wasn’t what he’d thought love would feel like, the way his father had suffered from it: a sudden explosion in his heart that overwhelmed him and swept him away, a flood that consumed him and destroyed all self-restraint, a sudden single-minded selfishness, a single person becoming the light of his life to such an extent that it cast all else into shadow, with no room left behind for anything else, not self, not sect, not family.

No, this was – quieter. A recognition that his days were richer for having Jiang Cheng filling his eyes and ears, the feeling of comfort and familiarity that before had only been associated with his family, the slow realization that he wanted this to be his every day: this companion, by his side, working together.

The realization that he wanted more than this.

He wanted to have the right to take Jiang Cheng into his arms when he was sad, to take him to his bed when he was happy, to be greedy for those rare soft smiles and proud when others admired him –

Lan Wangji had long ago come to terms with the fact that he was a cutsleeve (it had been struggling to accept that realization, in fact, that had kept him in seclusion those extra few months), and he knew that there was a greater than average chance that he would be rejected, but he knew Jiang Cheng well enough by now to know that following his first instincts to keep his feelings hidden within his heart would only hurt Jiang Cheng more later on.

After the fall of the Lotus Pier, Jiang Cheng had learned to despise things outside his control – it was what he didn’t know that terrified him, the hidden motives in people’s hearts of which they never spoke, and he hated most of all the idea that people were making decisions on his behalf.

(He spoke of that hatred, sometimes, when the other sect leaders or remaining Jiang sect elders tried to order him around for what they believed was his own good, and his hands would always rise up to rub his arms as if he were cold; it was only after Lan Wangji heard the full story of how he had been bound by Zidian and forced away to save his own life, his parents overriding his desires and treating him as a child for the final time, that he understood the source of it.)

Lan Wangji knew that if he broke Jiang Cheng’s trust, his dreams of a future would never come to anything, and so he stiffened his spine and told him.

Well, he wrote him a letter, knowing his own lack of eloquence would trip him up if he tried to say it out loud, but he handed him the letter and waited while Jiang Cheng read it. The letter contained a myriad of assurances that Lan Wangji would never take any action if the feelings were unwelcome, that he was fine with being rejected and that nothing would change, that he merely wanted Jiang Cheng to know.

Jiang Cheng’s eyes went soft when he read the letter, and for a moment Lan Wangji had hope, but in the end he was rejected – but not for the reason he’d thought.

“You haven’t met Wei Wuxian yet,” Jiang Cheng said, casting his eyes down. “One archery competition and a few distant glimpses during the indoctrination camp don’t count. You can’t – I know you think you like me, but you haven’t met him yet. And you will, one day, when we find him again, and that’s why I can’t agree.”

Lan Wangji hadn’t understood what Wei Wuxian had to do with anything.

“It’s like a man who’s only ever seen the moon suddenly encountering a sunrise,” Jiang Cheng tried to explain. “I can’t let you make a mistake that you’ll regret later on.”

In the end, Lan Wangji did get a chance to meet Wei Wuxian, and he understood a little of Jiang Cheng’s fears: Wei Wuxian was indeed a rising star, his utter brilliance in all aspects too-easily eclipsing Jiang Cheng’s not inconsiderable talent. He was witty and charming, charismatic without trying, a clever and imaginative thinker that refused to take no for an answer – he took the Jiang sect motto of ‘attempt the impossible’ as if it were a challenge that he were capable of living up to, and perhaps it was because of that no one noticed the dozens of impossible acts that Jiang Cheng quietly did every day.

It had been the same before, Lan Wangji suddenly thought to himself; in the cave of the Xuanwu of Slaughter, Wei Wuxian had energetically challenged the creature, and nearly come to grief – if Lan Wangji hadn’t turned his back away from him, irritated for no reason in particular, he might have missed the shaky-handed disciple that would have undoubtedly shot Wei Wuxian himself instead of the beast, and the blood would have sent the creature into a frenzy from which they might not escape.

Jiang Cheng had been the one to lead the disciples out, finding a way out through the murky water while Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji had fought the Xuanwu, but it was only Wei Wuxian’s brilliant idea of having Lan Wangji use Chord Assassination while he lured the creature in to be beheaded that anyone ever remembered; it had been Jiang Cheng who had put the injured Wei Wuxian on his back and walked seven days without rest to get him to the Lotus Pier for treatment, evading the Wen sect the entire time, but it was Wei Wuxian’s righteousness and witty challenge to Wen Chao that people recalled.

Wei Wuxian was as bright as the sun in the sky, but his light was blinding, the heat of it scorching those that came too close. Lan Wangji could have loved him, Jiang Cheng was right about that; Wei Wuxian had a way about him that was nearly irresistible. If he had been the first light that Lan Wangji had seen, he could have been blinded by it, unable to see any other, swept away the way his father had been – an explosion of love, a flood of it.

He hadn’t been, though.

Lan Wangji’s greatest achievement in his life, he would later think, would be that he had caught Jiang Cheng in a private moment shortly before Jin Ling’s one-month party and told him that he found that he preferred the quiet pleasures of stargazing by moonlight over the brilliance of a sunrise; it meant he had seen Jiang Cheng’s wide-eyed expression of utter delight, uncomplicated by sorrow or bitterness, for what may have been the very last time it appeared on this earth.

Later, after everything, Lan Wangji came to live in the Lotus Pier. He did not speak of love, for Jiang Cheng could not bear to think of such things at the beginning, and he only offered his company and his music, the way he had before. He helped Jiang Cheng learn the limits of his grief all over again, the line between righteous anger and merely lashing out; he helped guard against Jiang Cheng descending into nothing but bitterness and anger that would consume the rest of his life.

He stayed, and Jiang Cheng, who had started to doubt if anyone ever would, slowly grew to love him for it.

(It was Lan Wangji who realized that something had been off about Wei Wuxian’s demise, and started investigating it privately, although oddly enough in the end it was silly, frivolous Nie Huaisang who figured it out first – even if the way he went about it wasn’t something Lan Wangji would ever approve of.)

After Wei Wuxian returned in Mo Xuanyu’s body, after the three of them travelled together to investigate what had happened to Nie Mingjue, Jiang Cheng turned to Lan Wangji with old doubts he hadn’t seen in over a decade, and said, “You’re not going to –”

“Ridiculous,” Lan Wangji said, and Jiang Cheng smiled.

“Ugh, you two are so married,” Wei Wuxian whined, as if he wasn’t still very firmly in Lan Wangji’s bad books for the whole revelation regarding what he’d done with his golden core without telling Jiang Cheng about it. “Why aren’t you married, actually? Jiang Cheng! For shame! Be a man and do your duty!”

“Get lost,” Jiang Cheng said, but there was a lightness in his eyes that Lan Wangji rather liked. Even with all his secrets and his lies, having Wei Wuxian back was good for Jiang Cheng, and what was good for Jiang Cheng was something Lan Wangji approved of, even as troublesome a thing as Wei Wuxian. “We’re not married.”

“We could be,” Lan Wangji said, and predictably Wei Wuxian started whooping in joy even as Jiang Cheng turned bright red. Lan Wangji ignored the troublemaker and reached out to take Jiang Cheng’s hands in his own. “I am yours. First and foremost.”

Jiang Cheng’s hands tightened on his, and even if he turned his face away to hide the fact that he was crying, Lan Wangji knew that he’d won his prize – that future every day that he’d dreamed of for so long – at last.

[matronoftheblackrose]

C sees C

Zayne clicked his tongue as he checked his watch. The waning rays of the sun and the dimming of Piltover coincided with every second ticking closer to 6:00 PM. Corina asked all of her employees to work two hours longer this day, and the Piltover Enforcers needed to be given their signal. Zayne looked left, then right as he walked outside of the blooming factory. Past the greenery and the foliage, he took a step outside where a rat scurried across his boot. If he was as soft as a Piltvan then maybe he would have jumped in shock but nah, Zayne was used to far worse conditions than a greenhouse and mice.

Zayne rolled his left sleeve back, exposing his metallic cybernetic limb. He had to blink and squint from the sudden ray that reflected into his eyes, and in that moment, he swore something darted past him. Zayne looked behind him to find- nothing there. Other than the artificial lights of the greenhouse humming with energy and the vats of fertilizer being pumped throughout the complex. With a shake of his head, Zayne refocused on his tasks at hand.

With a twitch of his thumb, Zayne’s hextech crystal clicked to life in his ear.

“Rat to Dog? The big C remains. Mice scurrying to alternate corners in 10.”

A harsh buzz was followed by, “Roger. Begin in 10.”

Zayne clicked his thumb again, let out a sigh of relief, and looked all about to make sure no one was around. He could swear there was something just, in the corner of his eye, but no matter what, no matter how he looked, Zayne saw nothing. Even when his goggles locked on, zoomed in and identified the spewed remains of a liquid in a nearby alleyway to most likely be vomit.

With another sigh of relief, Zayne clicked his thumb again. “Sheriff? 10 until the War Storm. Do as you will.”

A smooth, soft click was followed by, “Thank you. In and out in-”

A hand came over Zayne’s mouth. Something pressed into the base of Zayne’s spine, and another hand picked the earpiece out, and in Zayne’s voice, the presence said, “Sorry, you need to wait 5. Guard schedule changed. I’ll tell the En’s storm to hold for another 10, else you’ll lose your chance.”

Zayne wanted to react in some way, but he felt his body go utterly limp- whatever martial arts this was, Zayne could not lift a limb. He also knew that the hand wrapped around his mouth certainly looked human, but was anything but. The way the fingers bent were not like a human’s, to be able to wrap so perfectly around his face to mute him completely and allow Zayne to breathe only through his nose.

A pause. “Are you sure?” the headpiece asked.

“Yes, Sheriff. Positive.”

Another pause. “We can’t miss this chance to lose C. Are. You. Sure.”

In that instant, Zayne knew that this person was toying with him. The hand flexed ever so slightly, straining Zayne’s jaw. He could feel his bones bend, and if the hand bothered to clench, Zayne knew it could crush his entire skull with pathetic ease.

“Ten thousand percent, and three quarters, Sheriff. Trust me, Sheriff.”

Zayne’s eyes went wide. How the hell did this ‘guy’ know Zayne’s dumb joke?

“Alright. 10 it is” The comm line went dead.

The presence asked, in Zayne’s voice, “May you please call your Wardens? I wish to ask them to arrive in another 10.”

Zayne’s mind raced, but his thoughts turned to pain as the hand on his jaw squeezed again.

“I honestly would love playing with you a little more, seeing how you are actually aiding my Sheriff, but I have business to attend to and we’re in a rush. I do not like violence, but today is a very personal day for me and I simply cannot be late,” the presence continued. “Do as I say, and no one gets so much as scratched. I promise you."

The hand released Zayne’s mouth, giving him the chance to spit back, “And how can I trust you?”

The presence turned Zayne around, and as Zayne’s turned paler than death, under the dimming rays of Piltover’s sun, the presence simply asked, “Do you have a choice?

---

Corina caressed the petals of her wolf’s bane flower that was exposed to an open window and to the sun, fully knowing that so very soon, the Enforcers will be arriving and her master plan could be enacted. It took some time, oh yes, but a single stroke would remove those pesky officers with ease, and then she could bring forth into Piltover-

“Miss Corina? Ma’am? May I have a word with you?” Zayne asked.

Corina turned around, her metallic nails clicking. The hum of electrical lights above flickered, Zayne with his hands in his pockets, standing between two rows of planted Noxian oleander. Corina smiled at him and beckoned him to her.

“Yes, Zayne. You may approach,” Corina cooed. “What is it you wish to discuss?”

“Well, a coupla things,” Zayne admitted as he walked forward. His right hand came up and caressed the poisonous petals of the flowers. “First and foremost, guess you know what I’m doing here, huh?”

Corina’s fingers clicked. She could feel the toxins from her suit’s canisters course through the tubes and fill the chamber of her fingertips. “No, do tell, what are you doing here?”

Zayne smirked and waved Corina off. “Playing coy? Come now.” His voice changed almost entirely- now slightly higher pitched but far more relaxed, with just a slight Demacian accent as he twirled and skipped underneath the flickering lights. “I know you’re pretending to be ‘C’, Corina. No reason to play games with me.”

Corina blinked, unsure of what just happened. “Pardon?”

“I said there’s no reason to play games with me. If this were a game and I were playing chess or some other alternate ‘intelligent’ game, you’d be playing connect four and failing to count to three,” Zayne continued with a chuckle. He threw his right hand out and batted one of the more annoying oleanders out of his way.

Corina realized just then that not only were Zayne’s mannerisms off, but the fact that he was touching Noxian oleander that she genetically bred herself, and did not react with violent itching or wheezing, or collapsing to the ground in paralyzed agony, was slightly off. “You’re not Zayne, are you?”

“And you have managed to count to two! Your intellect shocks me!” Zayne laughed. 

Corina collected herself, furrowed her brow and pointed a finger at Zayne. “Do watch your tongue, cur. You may have caught me off guard at first, but please, do you know who you are talking to?”

Zayne snorted and raised his right hand up in mock apology. “You are correct. Please forgive me, Corina Veraza the Chembaron- my deeper apologies, I mean Corina, the Mastermind of Chembarons and Zaunites.”

“Thank you. Now, what do you want?”

“Back to 1, huh? You ask questions but not the right questions.” The light flickered, Zayne’s goggles reflecting the light every little which way in the dimming room. “Let me answer your question with a question: What do you think I am here for?”

“If you were Zayne, then to raid my cultivair with Piltover’s Wardens and that daft Caitlyn. But you are not, so- honestly, you can be here to make a deal with me or to kill me. The former being far more plausible than the latter.”

Zayne clenched his jaw, took in a deep breath, and responded, “I’m sorry to say but the former is far less likely than the latter at this rate. And the latter I would daresay, is not something ‘up’ in my priority list. No, I’m here to take back what is mine, and to take something so very dear of yours.”

Corina raised an eyebrow. “Oh yes, you are here to take my magnum opus? Please, as though I would let you. I have investors that are interested in it, and if you wanted it so badly, we could have negotiated a price at a better time than this. Is that all?”

“Your magnum opus? Which one?” Zayne pointed behind him just as the electricity shut off for nearly a full two seconds. When it flicked back on, Zayne’s smile was just an inch too wide- a few teeth too many. “Your ‘magnum opus’ in your office? A glorified weed according to your own documents that would cause severe bodily waste leakage if consumed, a so very crude joke for a crude mind. No, no no. I am here to take back my reputation, and to take Meiraxa.”

Corina’s body went cold. Her actual magnum opus, the one that could in fact eliminate the Zaun Grey, named after her sister, a fact no one alive should know. Corina brought her hands up and was about to unleash her full fury when she took a moment, thought, and smiled. “Since you know so much about me, may I ask who I am speaking to the corpse that will be fed to my children?”

Zayne snapped his fingers, brought out his left, very human arm, and clapped at Corina. “Excellent! You counted back to two! Bravo!”

Corina’s rage cracked her stoic mask, but she said nothing.

Zayne continued to speak, this time in Corina’s exact voice, “You finally did your best to recognize an ant’s existence! Have you finally noticed how damn quiet it is in here? Your guards went home. Have you been too distracted to see the time? I changed it when you weren’t looking so you wouldn’t be ‘panicked’ about being time efficient. Who am I?”

Zayne pointed at himself, bowed, and said in Zayne’s voice, Corina’s voice, that Demacian voice, and a multitude of other voices in horrifying unison, “I am C. The C. You took what is mine, and so I will take that back and more.”

Corina paled.

“You took my moniker because you thought it’d be easy to lead Caitlyn here into a trap, kill all of the wardens in a single stroke, and have more freedom to pursue your stupid, selfish desires in Piltover like the so very good ecologist you are,” C continued. He laughed and wagged a finger at Corina, speaking in his Demacian voice again, “Which, I could appreciate! Imitation is the purest form of flattery-”

Corina clicked a button on her palm, and the bed of oleanders nearest to C exploded, sending wood splinters and plant matter everywhere. The detonation was small and controlled, but it was more than enough to utterly annihilate a human at point blank range. The lights flickered, the smoke parted, and Corina stumbled backwards, eyes wide with fear and disgust.

Flesh slurped, skin ripped, bones creaked and cracked, and Zayne reformed in front of Corina under the strobing light of failing electricity above. He cracked his head to realign it, which made each vertebrae of his spine crack one after the other like a macabre xylophone.

“C the Mastermind, your genius plan is to blow up people. I truly envy the stupid, you have such easy expectations to meet for yourself,” C muttered, rolling his eyes. “As I was saying, before I was so rudely interrupted, imitation is the purest form of flattery, but you tried to take my credit, for my acts. Imitation is one thing, plagiarizing is an outright insult.”

“How are you alive?”

“By continued breathing, I thought they taught you that in school. No matter,” C waved Corina off. “So, before you get any more bright ideas, please do not try to kill me again, and do listen to me. When the Wardens come, I want you to give them a note, and to tell them you are not the real C, absolving you of my crimes.”

Before Corina’s fingers could twitch, Zayne’s arm lashed out, splitting apart at the seams with sickening, wet slurps, and with serrated fangs, wrapped around Corina’s hand. Corina felt no pain, but saw the severed pipe that fed the toxic ammunition into her weapon flop about on the ground.

“Please pay attention, you have only 2 minutes and twenty seven seconds left before your bombs go off.”

“I haven’t se-” Corina started, then felt one of her fingers break and something slip into her palm as the rest of her fingers were forced to wrap themselves around it. Corina bit her lip to stifle the pain as best as she could. Years of scarring from science experiments gave her an excellent tolerance of pain.

“I apologize for the brutishness but you just do not shut up. I programmed your bombs to go off on a timer rather than by your kill switch. I had to give you the one bomb to see if you were truly stupid enough to try and kill me,” C crowed. He reached into his chest, pulled out a sheet of paper and a pen from his literal ribcage that parted and gave him access to his empty body cavity, and placed it on the ground in front of him. “On your knees, write down your apology and to absolve yourself of the title of C, and we’re done here. The longer you take, the more likely this won’t end well for you.”

“On my knees? Like some common whore? Do you think-?”

“A common whore has more sense than you, a common idiot,” C shot back. “In one day I have undone your idiotic master plan and taken even your Merixia under your nose. The only contest here that is left is the contest of patience, and I am admittedly close to losing that one.”

Corina had enough. She had enough toxin in her fingers, and she knew that he could not break all of them in time to stop her from enacting another one of her kill switches. Corina pressed a button that would cause a canister on her suit to fire forward and cover C with a flesh eating toxin, only to have it shot mid-flight and shattered before it could cause anyone any harm.

Both C and Corina looked up overhead at a window, and there was Sheriff Caitlyn, looking down her sights, aiming her rifle at both of them.

C blinked. Utterly distracted by this, Corina ripped her arm free and ran away from him as Caitlyn called out.

“C and Corina, surrender yourselves and you will not be harmed,” Caitlyn called out. “You have one chance- surrender peacefully!”

Corina stumbled away, gasping and wheezing, her arm shuddering.

C looked up, smiling and laughing. “She came. She actually came. Do you see this, Corina? Caitlyn recognized me. I thought she had gotten rusty. I am glad I did not have to escalate, but how did she figure it out? Ah, wait, Zayne never says positive. It’s Zaunite slang he uses, or a two syllable word for his small mind. Nor does he ask to trust him like that. It’s trust me, followed by some animal metaphor, like a whump on a shroom hunt. It slipped my mind. I can’t believe it, without her, it slipped-”

The bombs went off. Ripping through the factory, Caitlyn caught sight of C laughing as he slipped into the fiery green hell while Corina ran the other direction. Caitlyn had to slide down from the window to avoid the explosion of glass shards, cursing under her breath. So close to get two birds with one stone. She knew that Corina posing as C would get him to surface, his ego could not take imposters. Though Caitlyn may not have caught C, the wealth of information gathered from this one event alone was almost worth the loss. And while C will resurface, Corina would not if she got away now. So close to her target, but Caitlyn took a moment to look down the alleyway to make sure the knocked out Zayne was peacefully sleeping, and saw the lights of the Wardens’ vehicles speeding on their way.

If C had not changed the time for the Wardens’ arrival, this evening would have been absolutely catastrophic. The death toll would have been in the dozens for their officers, both good and bad. Caitlyn had wanted to capture Corina before the Wardens arrived, but it seemed that C had alternate plans in mind. The only reason she was delayed was because Zayne had to be found first, taken care of and supervised. Thankfully, backup for Caitlyn had arrived in time as well.

In fact, about backup, as Caitlyn circled around to the back of Corina’s factory, she soon heard an all too familiar voice yell, “Boom! In the face!” followed by a a shriek of surprise and a loud thud.

Caitlyn came across Vi hoisting of Corina onto her shoulder, Corina who was handcuffed and limp.

“Vi, you did not strike her, did you?” Caitlyn asked.

“Nah. I was going to but she just fell forward and passed out at my awesome sight.” Vi gave Corina’s shoulder a little pat as she continued, “Who knew this wallflower back at hq was C, huh?”

“That would be because she’s not C,” Caitlyn answered. “C was in the factory.”

“Wait- really?” Vi looked back at the now violently on fire, emitting smoke clouds of a variety of chemicals, factory. “Well shit. Guess he’s dead.”

“I highly doubt it. C has escaped worse. But now to find his next target-”

Caitlyn stopped herself. She bent down in front of Corina, looked down at the criminal’s hand curled into a fist, saw the purple and white pollen that stained Corina’s skin, and Caitlyn’s eyes dilated.

“Vi, drop her right now.”

Vi did not question Caitlyn, but she did not drop Corina.

“Vi?”

“Uh...Caitlyn...” Vi’s voice lowered, she whimpered, “I- I can’t- move.”

“Noxian oleander poisoning. Who knows what Corina did to it to make it work this fast. Damn it.” Caitlyn had to take a gamble.

As Caitlyn put on a pair of surgical gloves from her satchel her mind raced. This was an interaction between C and Corina. Corina was destructive, C was not for the most part, despite the contorted expression of absolute fear that remained on Corina’s face.

Caitlyn did not know the full extent of that meeting, but knew the pair exchanged some combat, or at least an explosion, but she needed to trust her read of C’s psychology. Caitlyn reached over to unfurl Corina’s fist by trying to pull free a finger. Caitlyn’s hand brushed against Corina’s thumb and immediately noticed the digit was tightened into an iron grip. However, Corina’s fore finger was broken and loose. This meant that though it hurt Corina, Caitlyn could pull the finger free from the stiffening grip and reveal a single vial stuffed in Corina’s palm.

As Caitlyn pulled the vial free, a note wrapped around the glass fluttered to the ground. Her eyes scanned it quickly, the message was short, but the weight of its words struck her like a ton of lead. Caitlyn uncorked the vial, gave it a quick sniff before she took out a spray cap from her satchel, jury-rigged it to fit on the vial with some tape, and sprayed Vi’s arm down.

Vi’s arm slowly, and with great effort, lowered.

“A solution of 90% rubbing alcohol, with a bit of soap and water, to at least remove the pollen and the urushiol oils of the oleander. We’ll have to have the doctor look you over, but this should help for now,“ Caitlyn explained.

Vi actually laughed and gave Caitlyn’s shoulder a soft, knuckled tap with her good arm. “Crap, Cait, you really have a gadget for everything, huh? Thanks.”

Caitlyn smiled, but did not answer.

That note on the floor, that read, “The only time I will give instead of take, a gift from one old friend to another. Hope to see you soon. -C” was a promise Caitlyn knew C would keep. Yet, Caitlyn could not help but notice that C’s methods were escalating. There were no casualties this time, but would there be next time? Even an accidental one? How did C know that Corina would escape the factory if she was doused with a potent enough oleander that it caused nearly instant paralysis in Vi?

The game was afoot once more, and more dangerous than ever.

[intrulogical]

logan’s spotify playlist analysis

just a few (not really) thoughts i’ve garnered from the logan spotify playlist. fair warning, i have not heard of any of these songs before so i can be incorrect in interpreting some of the lyrics but hey, i’m trying my best, give ya girl a chance. i’ll also analyze the songs in order. summaries of my interpretations for each song is near at the end of the post! if you want to add anything, feel free to reply or reblog with your addition!

(one note, i won’t analyze the other sides’s playlist. i only did this because logan is my favorite, but if you want another analysis, i might do remus only if he gets one.) 

big thanks to the logang discord who talked to me about the spotify playlist and my friend jana for proofreading this and letting me ramble to them! the analysis is below the cut. word count: 8300.

edit: apparently two songs aren’t available in my country, so i wasn’t able to see them right away to be added on this analysis. please check this post for the analysis of the songs what i do for u and the watchtower.

reblogging is highly appreciated!!! i worked rlly hard on this!!

tw: lots of logan angst, mentions of repression of emotions, mentions of lack of self esteem, and there’s a mention of suicide/depresion at the song “one more time with feeling” but i’ll mention it on the bullet so you know which part to skip!

the description of the playlist written by logan is interesting: “I was impelled to compile this selection of songs. I don’t entirely understand some of the lyrics, but I still found them compelling. Listen, or don’t.” the “listen, or don’t” part really suggests many things. one idea you can gain from that is that logan is probably ashamed of the songs he selected, even if he liked them, because it could be dubbed as “childish” but another thought i got is that the playlist confesses a lot of logan’s insecurities and personal issues, which might make him hesitant to present this to us because he’s not used to expressing himself and is probably scared of what others may think of him.

moreover, logan admitting he didn’t understand some of the lyrics sound a bit like a lie to me. while some songs could be difficult to understand without the lyrics, they all connect to something about logan, and to me, it’d make more sense that logan is hesitating to admit that some lyrics resonate with him because the lyrics connect to his personal identity/issues and he is definitely covering it up by saying he just vibes with the song’s aesthetic.

starting off, the elements by tom lehrer gives us the general idea about logan. he’s smart, he’s intelligent, he probably knows a lot more than what thomas knows which is weird but it works because it’s logan. 

additionally, i just found out on genius.com that the song was meant to introduce the elements of the periodic table to an audience with a catchy tune so it can be remembered easily. this could imply that when thomas is learning something rather difficult, logan’s there to find different ways to teach thomas the lesson which thomas can easily adapt to. 

white & nerdy by “weird al” yankovic is one of the few songs in logan’s playlist that’s in the form of a rap. before we dive into this song, i’d like to mention that logan picking very fast-paced songs are very interesting because i feel like raps and fast-paced songs resemble logan’s thought process. like remus, i feel like logan has an influx of thoughts and ideas that run across his head at any given time. fast songs could easily represent how much logan is thinking because raps can easily inform listeners about a lot of ideas and thoughts in one quick moment.

anyway, back to white & nerdy, first thing’s first: logan is an absolute nerd, but he also wants to be perceived as cool. this song practically screams “tryhard nerd is trying to be hip with the kids” and logan could probably relate to that on a spiritual level.

lyrics that probably stand out from this song would be the “I wanna bowl with the gangstas / But, oh well, it's obvious I'm white and nerdy” which is repeated throughout the song with the verbs changed in every chorus. “They see me strollin', they laughin' / And rollin' their eyes 'cause I'm so white and nerdy” could imply that the way logan is trying to be “cool” is failing because no matter what, everyone will still see him as a “nerd” above all else. because of this, it’s hard for him to relate and communicate with the other sides because the way he expresses himself could be something perceived as weird to the other sides. logan is just that different with the others, maybe you can suggest he’s the odd one out.

(this is probably also why in dwit, when he was called “cool”, he let out a disbelieving noise. he just wants to be seen as cool while also being himself and in dwit, he achieved that. the flashcards logan uses across the series is supposed to make him look “cool” but in dwit, he didn’t use any of that at all, being himself throughout the episode, and at the end, he was finally called “cool” for being himself.)

also, this may be a stretch, but if the other sides are supposed to be the “gangstas” he wants to roll with, that also can imply that logan doesn’t think lowly of the other sides. rather, he thinks of them as cool as well, and he wants to be just like them.

algorhythm by childish gambino is a very interesting song and a song that might be a bit difficult to understand (poor me with my bilingual problems) but an interesting take i found on genius.com helped me understand the context of the song. i will explain the song first before discussing how it connects to logan because this song is so smart. the song’s verses display apprehension as many of the lyrics question the validity of humanity and our society. the verses are intentionally distorted and inaudible because these statements oppose what could be deemed as acceptable in the society. the reason it is portrayed this way is because the person is afraid to be the odd one out in a society who thinks otherwise, despite how correct this one person is while the rest of the society isn’t. the chorus, while it could be perceived as something fun, talks about how majority of the society would choose to be ignorant about what is truly happening in our society and they would often follow whatever is popular, trendy, or fun; that is what the “algorhythm” really means. the chorus demands us to follow whatever is being said, to move our body exactly how society expects us to move. we follow the pattern that society deems is good, no matter how many problems still persist in the society. that is why the chorus is the most audible part of the song, why be hesitant when whatever you’re doing is something that the society loves doing as well? the song repeats “the algorhythm is perfect, mmh” twice, and it is expressed by the person who is having questioning thoughts about the algorhythm. this implies that no matter what, you will succumb to whatever society demands of you, and anything, especially the thoughts of one person against many, would not be able to change that.

now, how does this connect to logan? there are two main things i’d love to discuss: 1.) logan being the odd one of the group as his beliefs and thoughts are often brushed aside as they contradict what the other three core sides believe. and; 2.) while sometimes correct, the other three core sides in certain situations could offer the wrong solutions for problems without knowing they are negatively impacting thomas. logan’s the person questioning the society, the other core sides are the majority who can sometimes be ignorant of what could truly be the best solution for problems that arise, and thomas is the one who blindly follows what the majority presents as solutions, consequently making some of his problems worse. 

now for the first point: logan usually is the most insightful whenever there is a problem that needs to be dealt with. it’s already known that he wants to be listened to so badly, and this song implies that he feels disregarded for thinking differently, even if it’ll benefit thomas immensely. an example would be in dwit wherein patton and virgil wouldn’t stop doubting and cutting him off whenever he tries to help thomas. the song is implying that because of how he is the odd one out in the group, he is starting to become more apprehensive about what he thinks because he feels like he’s wrong most of the time. it implies that he thinks it’d be easier to succumb to what the others think is right rather than to think his own opinions are important. just like in the song, logan is “(Moving how they say so)” because at some point, he gives in to the idea that he is incorrect and wrong, and is beginning to adapt to what the majority thinks is right.

for the second point, i don’t want to suggest i’m berating the other three core sides when in reality, those three are also very important to thomas, but then again, those three aren’t the most flexible when accepting suggestions that come from logan. while the three don’t always agree on certain solutions, they agree more with each other compared to agreeing to solutions suggested by logan. when thomas sees this, he might think that because more sides agree with one idea, maybe it’s better to go with the majority, and that pushes logan away more despite his contributions actually being useful to the group.

okay, this is added last minute because i got the thought really late but i think we should recognize this as the event that pushed logan to start having higher expectations for himself. the previous song shows us he wants to be perceived as cool, but the next song shows us he wants to be perceived as perfect. the problem logan had with himself definitely evolved for the worse and i think this song shows us what pushed logan to be so nitpicky about how un-perfect he is.

fitter happier by radiohead has a very direct message and its connection to logan is the same with the message they are trying to say on its own. this song showcases the high expectations logan has for himself to be the most perfect side for thomas, when in reality, the list of things described in the song ironically doesn’t describe how we can become the “most perfect” human; it describes how we can be the most inhuman thing in the world. if anything, the list of activities only makes us more machine than human, which is why the song is spoken through a robotic voice. the connection to logan is really easy to make here: logan thinks that pushing himself to strictly follow a certain itinerary would be beneficial for him in the hopes that he can be the most perfect version of himself for thomas, when in reality, it’s unrealistic as it only encourages the repression of his negative emotions. moreover, this song implies that logan needs to understand that he is allowed to be free and to make mistakes because no human can ever be perfect. all he’ll end up doing is abuse himself if he continued down this path of repression and strict planning for himself. to be the best version of yourself means it’s okay to make mistakes, and it’s important to learn from them, and if you follow this toxic planning for yourself, you’ll only end up being trapped.

medicine by STRFKR gave me a bilingual headache because this song is kind of difficult to understand, even more than algorhythm. someone in genius.com mentioned that “Never Remember / Your Birthday” is actually wrong, and rather, it should be “ Never Remember / You’re perfect / Or anything you like”. the song itself talks about philosophy, saying you can never be perfect because if you realize that you are perfect, you become egotistical and you lose interest in learning more if you realize you’re “perfect”. logan would never, ever want to lose interest in learning-- that’s his entire being, damnit! logan wouldn’t be a person who’d want to disregard the importance of learning. because of this, the song implies logan recognized  the fact that he can never be perfect, albeit quite hesitantly,  but he still aims to be the best he can be for thomas.

the song states that while we cannot be perfect, we can still be curious and hungry for knowledge, and that would be a good substitute for aiming to be perfect. curiosity is the medicine being talked about in the song, and if logan can’t be perfect, at least he can be curious because in that way, logan can learn, logan can educate himself, and logan would be knowledgeable enough for thomas.

the breach by clipping. implies that logan is the most rational side who knows how to keep everything steady. while i won’t get into details of what the song is about, the song is rapped by a computer white a problem is occuring in the space ship they are in. just like the computer, logan is the side who oftentimes knows the correct approach for any given problem, but tends to complicate how he expresses his statements. i believe this song expresses how analytical logan is and how he requires himself to be the most specific he can be at any given moment. same points that i mentioned earlier could be applied again here: despite how intricate logan can be, the other sides need to listen to him more because whatever he’s saying isn’t just useless jargon. he does make valid statements and the other sides need to listen to him more or else, just like at the end of the song, everything can become utter chaos.

just one more thing to add-- while i am unfamiliar with the album, i read the genius.com annotations for the lyrics and it mentioned that the computer, who is a character in the album, slowly becomes more human-like over the course of the story. in this song, which is the beginning of the album, we can easily interpret the computer as an over-analyzing unemotional machine, but over time, they get to become more human and think past their coding. they get to develop their own emotions and they get to become  something more than a logical device. see a connection with logan? this implies that logan’s arc will involve himself being able to differentiate himself as an individual and himself as logic. while he is thomas’s logic, he needs to allow himself to be his own person and have his own personality. (i wonder how that’ll mix in with the “i’m not perfect enough” problem logan has)

letter c by zach sherwin depicts logan’s frustration from being made fun of. the line “Hey you know the only difference between ‘rap’ and ‘crap?’ It’s the letter C” basically implies that someone told logan that his passions and interests are synonymous to shit. throughout the series, while logan’s passions aren’t directly invalidated, he has been called nicknames often, and also is doubted from time to time whenever he expresses something to the others. but the thing is, teaching others, educating others-- that’s what logan is passionate about, and the fact that a lot of the others are disinterested by what he says would undoubtedly make logan frustrated, like what happens in the song. 

however, logan is not good at comebacks unless it was planned in advanced, but this song gives us a good idea of logan’s thought process whenever he gets insulted. we know he keeps a notebook of everything said to him that is deemed as stupid (embarrassing phases ep i think?) and we can understand that insults really get to him and sticks to him deeply. he overthinks about them; he ponders about them.

other than that, having no comebacks also make logan feel ashamed of himself (which is suggested at the end of the song) because not only would he look stupid to the others, he would also look uncool or un-perfect, and he really doesn’t want to be perceived as either.

galaxy song from monty python  is honestly just adorable. while it is sad to see that logan probably doesn’t seek comfort in other people, he does seek comfort in the stars. he is very passionate about astronomy, and while i doubt thomas took the astronomy class logan desperately wanted him to take, logan still hasn’t given up on astronomy like thomas did. while some might be scared of the idea that we are a mere speck in the universe that extends infinitely, logan is fascinated by it. logan loves knowledge, logan loves learning, and he is very fond of astronomy mostly because the knowledge he can earn is unlimited. additionally, he finds worth in himself because he was born in a universe filled with many stars and planets that he finds fascinating, and i think that’s adorable.

streaks by ANIMA! depict thomas’s and logan’s shared development throughout the years, especially when thomas was still a teenager. while there are many hardships growing up, these hardships were detrimental for thomas to understand himself further, and it is all thanks to logan for helping thomas make sense of everything. here, logan highly values education, thinking of it as a crucial part of thomas’s future. the song suggests that logan has planned for thomas’s future for a very long time, and he is convinced that whatever thomas is going through in school will help benefit logan’s plans for thomas. once thomas left school, particularly college, he has learnt everything he needs for a brighter future. all of this knowledge and development is thanks to logan, and the lines “Throw em in the water / They will sink or float / If you don't then you will never know” speak of the process of how logan was able to gain information and knowledge that thomas would apply for himself in the future. this knowledge isn’t limited to academic knowledge-- it’s about his social life, about his personal self, it’s everything thomas has learned. everything thomas knows now is thanks to logan.

okay but here comes the angst. the line “You're a smart kid, tough kid, but you're still a kid that grew” implies so much. firstly, we can recognize that logan probably has had a long time plan for thomas’s future and his career since he was a teenager, and he expects thomas to follow this plan right after college because he expects that at this point, thomas has fully come to understand himself and he needs to put all this progress and development into good use. what he didn’t expect is that thomas was still developing, still changing, and is still “a kid that grew” despite graduating. as we know, thomas mostly does youtube/theatre for a living, and it probably pained logan that all this planning he has turned out pointless. but even if thomas changed career plans right after college, the chorus repeating again implies that logan is still helping thomas develop. he still makes plans for thomas, he contributes ideas for thomas to place in his videos, and most importantly, he ensures a successful life for thomas, no matter what.

erase me by ben folds five is easily one of the angstiest songs on the playlist. in the song, the singer is trying to sing about a breakup and how their ex treats the singer as worthless. if we want to envision this in logan’s perspective, the song would be talking about the fragile relationship logan has with the other sides. the song describes their home together as “Paper not stone” which implies that their relationship was shaky, was unstable, and it was no surprise for logan that they eventually left him. yea, it wasn’t logan who left, but it was the others. this is implied by the line “And when you pulled your half away”. 

even if it is implied that the others left him first, the song still suggests that logan cares deeply about them. but even if he cares about the others, he questions his worth nonstop, evident in like… the whole song. the song is called “erase me”, so it’s no surprise that logan blames himself in this situation and would even think of himself as the problem. it’s clear in the song that logan still deeply cares about the others, and their opinions on him still affect him gravely. the last line “And if you feel nothing, guess what I wanna be? Nothing.” implies that logan highly considers what the others say towards him, and sometimes would treat it as fact. if the others think nothing of him then maybe, he is nothing. throughout the series, logan has been repeatedly insulted and made fun of and while he becomes defensive, the songs in this playlist show that he does listen to the others and their criticisms of him, and he wants to change himself because of it.

while logan ponders deeply about the insults said to him, the song shows us that the others don’t think much of it. the song actually implies they’ve replaced logan as if he were some utility and acted nothing of it. they don’t realize the emotional pain they’ve inflicted unto logan and he knows this. logan recognizes that they don’t consider his worth. additionally, the line “Go and call the cops now, baby” sort of implies that thomas is also in on this and has heard of what the others said about logan and is siding with the others. 

not only does logan feel incredibly sad by this, it’s obvious that logan is also very angry. he’s angry that the others think of him as useless, he’s angry that the others think he’s replaceable, and while he does listen to their jabs at times, he similarly just wants to prove them wrong. while the line “Erase me” can depict him succumbing to their jeers, this could also be about logan thinking of a way that’ll make the others realize his worth. the lines “We know that you don’t seem to think about what you need ‘til you reach to find that you’ve erased me.” suggests that the others can only understand his worth if logan erases himself completely. while the others pushed him away, they haven’t really erased him completely, but they just simply avoided him. if logan actually is gone, or maybe if he… ducks out, the others might realize what big of a mistake they’ve committed.

(honestly, it also must be frustrating for logan that the only way he can prove his worth is to disappear from the others. is his efforts just not good enough for them?)

also, at this point of the playlist, it is quite evident that logan is not emotionless. he has emotions, but clearly… they aren’t positive ones. many of these songs already tell us of logan’s problems: he isn’t listened to enough, he’s been left behind, he’s frustrated with himself, he wants to appear cool to the others, etc. and what’s worse is that he’s dealing with all these problems alone. one of the reasons he probably is repressing his emotions besides wanting to be “perfect” for thomas is that he does not want to reveal how much negative emotions have flooded him because of the other sides. he doesn’t want the others to be hurt just like how they hurt him.

now, art is dead by bo burnham definitely speaks of logan’s thoughts on art, and how flawed he believes roman and thomas’s artistry is. logan would define art as something you can be passionate about with money never being a factor of how great you are performing. in logan’s opinion, roman’s way of creating art is flawed. he views roman’s passion as something fake. instead of being the artist roman thinks he is, logan thinks of him as someone merely egotistical and selfish, someone who’s immature and craves attention. and while this might be harsh on logan’s part, i also think logan recognizes that this egotistical side roman is showing is most likely fake. in the lines “It’s all an illusion / I’m wearing makeup”, and “My drug’s attention / I am an addict / But I get paid to indulge in my habit”, logan understands that perhaps, roman is hiding under a facade. moreover, logan recognizes the danger behind roman endlessly craving attention from others. logan understands that there is a negative side to roman’s need for attention because roman needs to understand that he is valid even without other people praising him; roman relying on attention to measure his value is only going to ruin himself and his self-esteem. while i think the song has many messages behind it (please god help me because i don’t know how to explain this song well), i think this song discusses how despite loathing roman at some times, he is trying his best to understand him. while some parts downright insult roman, some parts show that logan understands roman is hurting.

another interpretation i’ve got is this song shows logan’s views on thomas becoming an entertainer. he thinks that the career he has now is undignifying and embarrassing. logan expresses that people who are entertainers or artists have stopped creating art because of it being their passion; rather, logan thinks these people do it because it’s a cheap way to earn money quickly. in this way, logan feels like the career he has now is unsatisfying because it all feels like a cheat to him. in the song, they state the unfairness of how rich entertainers are despite being lazy compared to people who work in drugstores, aiming to help people the best they can 24/7 with low pay. another lyrics you can use to describe logan’s frustration with how unsatisfied he is with this lifestyle would be the line “Cause I wanted my name in lights / When I could have fed a family of four / For forty fucking fortnights / Forty fucking fortnights.”. but even if logan feels undignified, he succumbs to the fact that he’s trapped being this kind of artist, but it’s obvious he isn’t too happy about it. 

equation by hans zimmer & camille is unexpectedly depressing. this song is most likely sung from the perspective of a child growing up, overwhelmed by how much they have to learn before they reach adulthood. this entire song depicts a child asking questions which are supposed to make them look “grownup” enough, hoping they are on the right path for a successful future. i think this song depicts the stress logan experienced when thomas was approaching adulthood because everyone practically depended on him for thomas to have a successful life. this acknowledges the only time logan has felt overwhelmed by the influx of knowledge he had to learn just so he can ensure thomas that everything will turn out okay. in the song, the singer asks a lot of questions that could be labelled as something “grownups” would do, which shows us that logan’s need to be professional all stemmed from him wanting to help thomas become successful in the future. but even if logan was able to plan for thomas’s future, there are some parts of the song that imply that logan longs for times he was a child again. it’s just… logan just grew up so fast, everyone relied on him at such a young age, and he never really enjoyed his childhood to the fullest. he wonders where his childhood went, and he patiently waits for the happiness he experiences as a child to come back again. then again, that happiness would never return, would it?

additionally, the lines “Have I made you cross? Have I made you sad? Have I made you proud, Mom?” imply that when logan was growing up, he was, most of the time, alone. he never really confided in others for any problems he had, and he preferred handling everything independently. nobody seemed to pay attention to him anyway, even if he really cares for the other sides. i know it’s been said before but logan really needs to gain more recognition for everything he’s done for thomas, and people really need to listen to him more.

while logan would never admit this now, i do think logan, as a child, was immensely overwhelmed by how much he thinks. just like remus, logan has an influx of thoughts and ideas going through his head, and when he didn’t understand it in the past, he probably wanted all of it to quiet down. his role as logic is tiring, and while logan understood this at a young age, i believe that growing up, he began to normalize this as it happens too frequently over the years, evident by how logan usually acts throughout the series. to this day, logan probably has many experiences where he feels exhausted or stressed, but he intentionally doesn’t tell the others about it because again, he thinks that being this stressed is a normal occurrence.

(this is probably why he doesn’t wanna open up with others in the series. while i think he is repressing emotions intentionally, i feel like sometimes, he just doesn’t admit he is stressed because he shrugs it off as a normal occurrence.)

sunrise from in the heights is one of the more unique songs in the playlist. yes yes i know, as a logince fan i am also screaming internally and externally but i do have a different explanation as to why logan placed this song in his playlist aside from him wanting to be closer to roman. this song displays a moment of someone learning, something logan is quite fond of. while the song displays an educational experience between two characters, it’s also very intimate. logan probably believes that to be able to achieve knowledge, you must disregard your feelings because it’ll only get in the way of learning. but this song shows that our emotions could be a motivator for us to learn. that’s what makes logan like this song. this song fascinates logan because in the song, benny, the guy who can’t speak spanish, is learning spanish because he loves nina, the girl teaching him spanish. it shows him that in learning, having feelings and emotions is completely valid, and it doesn’t restrict learning entirely. 

another thing i’d like to note is that songs like this that show a fascination in learning probably motivate logan to learn more. he is merely fascinated when he sees people being amused by education and learning, hence why he might have a fondness for the song. 

one more time with feeling by regina spektor is… sad. it talks about a patient recovering from their illness and coping with the sadness that comes with it. (tw: suicide/depression, please skip to the next bullet if you are triggered by this.) the illness being spoken about in the song would be depression and this shows us the aftermath of someone committing suicide. while i do not think logan would be depressed or suicidal, i do think the song is suggesting that logan is suffering something, and he thinks it’d be appropriate for himself to… erase himself. this is the second song in the playlist that implies logan would want to disappear because the others neglect him. the line “And the pride inside their eyes would synchronize into a love you’ve never known so much more than you’ve been shown” implies that the other sides will finally acknowledge logan if and only if he erases himself, duck out.

we can fully establish at this point that logan represses a lot of his emotions and the other sides know it too. the others, clearly evident in lntao, tries to help logan to stop repressing his emotions, but they aren’t really successful in teaching him. i think it’s mostly because the sides are being sympathetic rather than empathetic, and the sides think that their way of accepting their emotions would be a helpful way for logan to understand his emotions too. but the thing they don’t realize is that maybe, logan isn’t like them, and he can’t use the same ways they use because frankly, it doesn’t work. now, where in the song does this get implied? The lines “You thought by now you’d be so much better than you are / You thought by now they’d see that you had come so far.” suggests that logan did consider the advice of the other sides at some point. he tried to accept his emotions like the others said, he really thought that he might be able to get over his issues. but the wording of the song is really interesting because it says “You thought--” as if the person thought it would work, but it didn’t. additionally, the chorus at the end could be thought of as the advice logan is receiving from the other sides. but the lyrics “Hold on / One more time with feeling / Try it again, breathing’s just a rhythm” implies that the advice he’s getting isn’t working for him. it didn’t work for him, but he’s trying again because he doesn’t doubt the other sides, and if that doesn’t work, he’s trying again. then, the lyrics say, “Say it in your mind, until you know that the words are right.” which is a much more cynical line because they’re implying that if their advice doesn’t work, then logan just needs to try harder until it’s ingrained in his brain. the last line, “This is why we fight” could have a double meaning. one might think this is about fighting your inner demons to eventually overcome them. but this could also mean that the advice logan is receiving from the others isn’t working, and the fact that they push their advice so much unto him would be the reason why the sides and logan fight. in this sense, the lyric could mean “This, the uneffective advice I receive from you, is the reason why you (the others) and I (Logan) fight.”. to cut this short, the other sides need to be more empathetic in trying to understand logan’s issues because so far, all they’ve been doing is make assumptions for logan’s problems and offer solutions that might only work for themselves. for them to be able to help logan, they must put themselves in his shoes and understand logan better, or else they might just end up damaging him.

now, i do have a less depressing interpretation of this song which completely contradicts the last bullet point but i wanted to mention it because it made sense to me. while i did imply that the chorus could have some malicious intent behind it, we can also look at it in a positive light. this song in the playlist is the only one where we see logan possibly getting comforted by the other sides, and that would make sense seeing that the songs after this one would be about logan accepting himself for who he is. so, if we think of this song as the sides finally reaching out for logan, we can assume that at some point in the series, logan will reveal every problem he has to the other sides. at this point, instead of neglecting him, the sides are showing him love that he’s never seen before because they finally understand logan. sadly, their love and comfort would only be given only if they realize how bad logan is hurting, but at least he’s finally receiving the love that he desperately wanted.

in my mind by amanda palmer speaks of a topic similar to the songs medicine and fitter, happier because it sings about perfection. at this point, we can safely assume that logan is obsessed with precision and perfection, and he has aimed to be perfect for thomas for a very long time. problem is, he doesn’t realize how much he’s beating himself up from trying to achieve his perfect self. however, this song is the first one in the playlist which shows logan accepting that he can’t be perfect, and the person he is now is good enough for him and for the others. yes, medicine implies logan understands he cannot be perfect, but the song didn’t really give us that sense of resolution like this song does. i also think this song perfectly resembles how logan’s arc is going to look like. the song is split into four verses and each verse shows us the different stages of how sometimes, we want to be the perfect version of ourselves, but in the end, we realize we’re good enough for ourselves and for others.

anyway, focusing on the song, the first verse discusses logan’s high expectations for himself. the line “In a future five years from now / I’m a hundred and twenty pounds / And I never get hung over / Because I will be the picture of discipline” definitely shows it. he’s restricting himself because, implied by the lines “Never minding what state I’m in / And I will be someone I admire”, he isn’t satisfied with the person he is at the present. To further add to this, the line “And it’s funny how I imagined / That I would be that person now” explains that at some point, logan thought he was smart enough, he once thought he was “perfect”, but he realized that he wasn’t. he thought that he was enough, but no, something made him realized that he still had many flaws (cough algorhythm cough). the line “Maybe I’ve forgotten how to see / That I’m not exactly the person that I thought I’d be” shows him realizing that he wants to be better, he wants to improve himself. logan definitely has his own insecurities about his worth which makes him want to push himself more. 

verse two has the same implications as the first verse but i do believe it is showing the negative effects of wanting to be perfect more. this shows us logan getting used to controlling himself to strictly do things that he can only label as something that’ll help himself improve. this time, it’s stricter with the line “Because I will be the picture of discipline / Never fucking up anything” and it depicts how simple mistakes he commits would make him feel miserable. (cough this means the infinitesimal mistake probably pained him so much cough cough)

verse three shows us logan realizing that the perfect version he aims to be is actually… not so perfect. the lines “I’m so busy with everything / That I don’t look at anything” is logan getting a realization that he hates this. he hates aiming to be perfect, he hates how restricting himself, and this “perfect version” he aims to be is just bullshit. the lines “And it’s funny how I imagined / That I could be that person now / But that’s not what I wanted / If that’s what I wanted / Then I’d be giving up somehow / How strange to see / That I don’t wanna be the person that I want to be” suggest that logan realized that doing all this, aiming to be perfect, is hurting him. he didn’t want to be perfect. i also think that these lines show us that logan is finally prioritizing himself above all things because, evident in the songs before this, he always aimed to be perfect for others. he always saw himself as faulty and he always intended to fix himself. but this verse shows us that he realizes that he isn’t faulty, he isn’t a mistake, he isn’t someone who needs to improve. he realizes he’s in hurting and he gives in to it, realizing he just needs to give himself time to accept himself for who he is because again, he is enough.

the last verse has logan acknowledging that the “perfect version” he aims to accomplish is downright impossible. the lines “And maybe it’s funniest of all / To think I’ll die before I actually see / That I am exactly the person that I want to be.” shows logan finally acknowledging his self-worth. he finally admits he’s good enough, and laughs at his past self trying so hard to be perfect. he’s okay. he understands he’s good enough. (also i am very proud of him, you don’t understand how my heart is exploding rn)

not perfect by tim minchin has kind of the same message as the previous song. it’s quite heartwarming that at this point, logan’s starting to accept himself and he’s not afraid to say he isn’t perfect. in this song, the singer expresses the many things he holds dear in his life, and while he acknowledges that there are some flaws to everything, he still thinks of them fondly, telling us that no matter how un-perfect it is, it’s enough for him. there’s a repeated line of “It’s not perfect, but it’s mine” and it’s easy to say that logan is not only referring to himself, but he’s referring to the family he has as well. he’s been so hard on himself that whenever he sees a flaw in something, he immediately think it’s faulty. but here, he’s acknowledging that flaws are something normal, something okay to have, and instead of turning away from himself or the others, he begins to love himself and his family.

i think the most important verses would be the verses which sing about his body and his brain. it’s all gonna be repetitive, i know, but the lines “I spend so much time hating it [my body] but it never says a bad word about me” and “[This is my brain] where all my fucked up thoughts can hide / ‘Cause god forbid I hurt somebody” really emphasize how much logan struggled before he began to accept himself. while the first line suggests he struggled a lot with how he thinks of himself, the second speaks of how much thoughts he repressed because he wanted to be better for others. while i don’t think the thoughts are really “fucked up” like the lyric suggests, i think this mostly talks about his negative emotions and how he wanted to hide it from the others. but at the end, again, he eventually stops repressing his emotions and allows himself to let them out because it’s perfectly valid.

human by tank and the bangas has almost the same message as the previous two songs. what’s interesting is that logan uses knowledge and different facts to motivate himself to love himself. throughout the song, it tells us facts about our bodies which logan would definitely be fascinated by, and it’s soft to think that he values himself because he treasures the fact that we exist. we are made this way for a reason, everything in his body has been meticulously crafted to serve different purposes, and logan finds it amazing. not only does he use this to help motivate himself, but he uses this to love the other sides as well. in this song, it is implied that there has been a relationship that has gone wrong, and we can think of it as the friendship between logan and the others. while the relationship between logan and the others has been wonky, they will eventually make amends and be close again; logan just needs time to understand himself, to love himself, and when logan is finally okay, he and the other sides and start over. 

what i love about this song is not only is logan accepting himself but he is complimenting himself. while the last two songs are about him saying he’s enough, this song actually shows us that logan is starting to admire himself. he says he’s incredible and valuable, tougher than any superhero, and if that ain’t character development, i don’t know what is 

one last interesting bit is that these last three songs imply that logan honestly needs a break from everything. all this acceptance and loving yourself can only be achieved if logan takes a break from working. i think this implies logan will eventually isolate himself from the others in the series just for a few moments, just so he can finally help himself, and he can only reconnect with the others if and only if he takes care of himself first. 

time adventure from adventure time acknowledges eternalism wherein time is all an illusion and that there is no past or future, just the present tense. everything is currently set in the present, and whatever happened, happens, or is happening will exist forever because everything is set in the same time period which is the present. i think this song suggests that logan has already reconciled with himself and the others again and currently, he is happy with it. he uses this eternalism to emphasize how he treasures this moment of happiness so much. in this way, he can say that this happiness that he is experiencing right now will exist forever because it exists now. there’s not much more to say here than logan is finally happy, the others are happy with him, and he wants this moment of joy to happen forever. 

now that that’s over, i’m going to summarize my analysis of each song in the following bullet points so it can be easier to understand:

the elements by tom lehrer: logan values education and always aims make anything easily understandable for thomas.

white & nerdy by “weird al” yankovic: logan, while he is a nerd, also wants to appear as cool to fit in with the others.

algorhythm by childish gambino: logan feels like he’s being alienated by the group because he thinks differently from them, despite being correct.

fitter happier by radiohead: logan has high expectations for himself to be perfect but this also makes him feel trapped.

medicine by STRFKR: logan realizes being perfect means he might become lazy, and this first showcases logan questioning if aiming to be perfect is a valid thing to do. 

the breach by clipping.: logan is portrayed as someone who keeps control of everything thomas’s mind. without him, everything will disrupt into chaos.

letter c by zach sherwin: logan overthinks a lot about the insults he receives and wishes he can produce better comebacks so others might think he’s cool.

galaxy song from monty python: logan is fascinated by astronomy, bringing him comfort.

streaks by ANIMA!: thomas’s life being put-together is all thanks to logan. logan really should deserve more credit for building the person thomas is today.

erase me by ben folds five: logan feeds like he’s being disregarded and the others don’t know they are hurting him. he thinks erasing himself might make the others realize his worth, even if he sometimes lacks self-love.

art is dead by bo burnham: logan feels undignified with thomas’s career as an entertainer and he thinks roman is immature. then again, this song implies he wants to further understand roman.

equation by hans zimmer and camille: logan was stressed a lot when thomas was approaching adulthood and he thinks his job as logic is incredibly tough, making him miss it when thomas was a child, free of any responsibilities.

sunrise from in the heights: logan is fascinated by the fact that emotions can be a motivator for learning, something he has never thought of before.

one more time with feeling by regina spektor: the others finally understand what logan’s worth is when logan disappears, but the advice they give to him aren’t exactly the best but hey, they’re trying to reconcile with each other.

in my mind by amanda palmer: logan accepts the fact he can’t be perfect and the person he is now is enough.

not perfect by tim minchin: logan begins to understand that the most un-perfect thinks could be the things he loves the most, and he begins to love himself more, thinking it’s enough.

human by tank and the bangas: logan finds comfort in facts as it makes him feel more empowered. these facts make him fascinated with himself, as well as find fascination in the other sides.

time adventure from adventure time: he finally reconciles with the others, reconciles with himself, and he wants the happiness he feels now to exist forever.

now, thomas mentioned in a tweet to listen to them in order. i do think the playlist is meant to foreshadow what’s to happen to logan’s arc. these are a few thoughts that i have that might occur in logan’s arc:

all of logan’s problems definitely stem from him wanting to be cool enough for the other sides. because he wants to be perceived as cool and the others don’t really think of him that way, he begins devaluing himself. this problem eventually evolves, and instead of wanting to be cool, logan wants to be absolutely flawless, and he is abusing himself because of it.

roman is definitely someone with a crucial role in logan’s arc. this playlist references roman more than the other sides and while i don’t know what his role is, i do think he is one of the main people who will help logan during his arc.

with songs like erase me and one more time with feeling, i have a very heavy feeling that logan will duck out or disappear. he did get the epiphany that the others will only see his worth if he is gone, and this might happen during his arc.

ONE LAST THING: thomas tweeted this: 

it is suspicious to me that he says that this is only PART of the reason why. there is a bigger reason to why logan didn’t put crofters the musical on his playlist, and i can only think of two reasons why. one would be he didn’t want to hurt roman since it was evident that logan respects the other sides, especially roman. another is that he isn’t embarrassed by his singing per se, but he is embarrassed with himself. he was too immature, too incompetent, and because logan longs to be perfect, he might consider crofters the musical as a mistake he committed. 

(also, if logan is ashamed of not putting crofters the musical and is hesitant to show us this playlist, does he mean he still is suffering now?)

anywho, conclusion: logan is sad, give him some love, and i hope he knows we love him for who he is. remember that my interpretation is my interpretation, not in any form fact, so if i’m wrong, i’m wrong, and that’s okay! again, feel free to add anything to this and have your own interpretations because i’d love to hear them!

[eliza-makepeace]

Murtagh pt.3

Thorn was alone this time. It was hard for him to not have Murtagh around, even if they were always connected with each other. It was funny, he supposed, knowing that Murtagh always felt calm when he was nearby, when Thorn knew he himself only felt truly comfortable when his Rider was with him. He knew how strange this symbiotic relationship must look from the outside, but as time went by they became even more reliant on each other than they had been before.

The dragon knew Murtagh wasn’t helpless. He had survived such horrible and complicated situations, way before he had even hatched, so it wasn’t as if Murtagh couldn’t do without him. Perhaps his Rider didn’t need him to keep him safe, physically speaking, but he knew he had become indispensable for Murtagh from the moment their eyes had locked with each other, and from the moment that silver scar had appeared in Murtagh’s palm. And Murtagh had become Thorn’s vital force. He was sometimes hard, and bitter, but Thorn understood those characteristics were learnt, and not something Murtagh was intrinsically. They were the product of what his life circumstances had forced him to become, of a life being unfairly treated, betrayed, and taken advantage of. And yet, despite that, Thorn could see a brighter light in his human Rider than in plenty other people with lesser hardships.

Most of the times, however, Murtagh showed himself to be what he truly was: a kind man who went out of his way to help people. Every time Murtagh went into a hate spiral, Thorn made it his duty to remind him of that fact, and Murtagh shrugged it off with an “anybody would do the same”. It angered Thorn. How could he say something like that, knowing as well as he did that it was entirely untrue? Specially, since his only reason to say it was to discredit himself. Thorn understood these tendencies, for he had them almost the same. He was born to immediately become a pawn in somebody else’s control, seeing the one person he loved being hurt because of standing for his beliefs, and then, see him stripped of his agency, possibility of choice, and his most intimate memories lay for the egg breaker to see and use for his own benefit, just to stop Thorn from getting hurt. Thorn had always known Murtagh’s selflessness, but it was taking Murtagh himself a longer time to own up to having that quality.

So Murtagh had gone to the closest town, and Thorn was afraid. Afraid of what? Perhaps of somebody recognizing him, and him getting into trouble. Perhaps of how Murtagh for the most part became melancholy when coming back from these trips, getting to see how common people lived their lives, so different to his own.  Either way, Thorn was left uneasy every time he saw the dark cloaked figure of his Rider disappear between the trees. And with every passing second, he grew even more restless.

His red eyes caught Murtagh’s unmistakable silhouette heading back to their camp, and a guttural sound came from his throat, urging his partner to inform him of whatever had happened.

Murtagh sighed and sat next to him. He looked alright, as far as Thorn could see, so things hadn’t gone as badly as other times. “Town was busy,” he mused, softly. Thorn knew what that meant. Busy meant markets, markets meant news. And news… well, news for the most part weren’t kind to the son of Morzan.

What did you hear? he asked, knowing it was better off for Murtagh to vocalize his frustration and disappointment than keep it to himself.

“Nothing nice”, he responded. “Nothing untrue.” He opened a bag he’d carried with him and took out some ink and paper. “Got what I wanted, though”.

Thorn snarled, and made a strong move of his scaled head. I don’t like it when you change subject, you know that.

“I didn’t”, Murtagh replied, slightly set aback by Thorn’s sudden aggressiveness. “I’d just rather not dwell on how people hate me. Instead of seeing this trip as lemon juice dropped on a wound, I’d rather see it as a trip that got me some nice sheets of paper and ink.”

I would have no problem with it, if only it were true. But you do dwell on it.

Murtagh took a deep breath. Seemed like Thorn wouldn’t let it slide. “It hurts. How couldn’t it?” He stood up, and started pacing, like a trapped lion in a cage. “I wish… I wish I didn’t give a shit about what random peasants think of me, but I do. I do care. All my life… All of it, I’ve wanted to fit in, to be accepted, and now it seems like that is more far away than ever before.”

It is not your fault.

“Who cares about that?” Murtagh asked, raising an eyebrow, and staring right into Thorn’s eyes. “It doesn’t matter whose fault it is, as long as people have someone to put the blame entirely on. Galbatorix doesn’t do the job. It’s only relatively satisfactory to blame someone who’s dead. But they aren’t wrong. Despite everything, I really was his right-handed man.”

You were what he made of you. Like your mother was for Morzan.

Murtagh huffed, rolling his eyes in exasperation, as if they’d already had a conversation like that before, even though they never had. “I cannot believe you’re comparing the two of us”.

Why not? You are more alike than you think. She’s as misunderstood as you are. Who knows who she truly was? There are rumors about her, the same as there are about you. Despite what you may say, you know at least half of what they say of you is not true. Who’s to say what we see and know isn’t just a small percentage of who she really was?

The Wanderer shrugged, feeling the conversation to be ridiculous and nonsensical. “So, what? Nobody cares. For all they know, she was Morzan’s Black Hand, and that is the way she will go down in history. Even if she clearly did plenty more.” He shook his head, and bit his lip. “History is not written fairly, Thorn. History has always meant taking the truth and adapting it to your narrative, no matter who you step on.”

History can be rewritten. The right people can be honored, and the villains properly vilified.

“I don’t want to be honored.” He said, almost a whisper, more to himself than to Thorn. “I just want to feel like… like someday, I will be in a place I can call my home, surrounded by people who care for me. For Murtagh. Just Murtagh. Not the son of Morzan, not the Wanderer, not Tornac of the Road. I don’t want to spend the rest of my theoretically immortal life pretending to be somebody else.”

You know you have a home. Eragon told you himself. You have a place in Carvahall, which is your inheritance just as much as Za’roc was. You have family there, your cousin Roran.

“Please, Thorn. Eragon was just being kind. Carvahall could never be my home. Those people wouldn’t accept me, and Roran less than anybody, no matter how related we may be. I don’t even know him.” He covered his face with his hands, his long fingers pressed against his temple. “I wouldn’t blame them. They do have reasons to hate me.”

I am sure they would end to understand. They know how hard wars are, they know how tricky being thrust upon one is, and hopefully they’ll have learnt that sides aren’t as black and white as they seem.

“I feel you are too hopeful, my love,” Murtagh said. He didn’t say it mockingly, but with admiration. Thorn had an incredible quality, which was being able to see things brighter than they were, him included. Murtagh was different. He knew the monsters were there no matter where he looked, and it took a longer time than sometimes it was worth it to prove to him that what seemed like a good person really was one. So, he understood the general contempt for him more than he would like to admit. If he hadn’t been himself and had been some farmer who’d seen the fearing sight of the Red Rider over his head, he would have wished him dead.

“Sometimes I envy them,” he admitted, lowering his head, as if owning up to it made him feel embarrassed. “I envy that they can have easy lives, that they have a house, parents, siblings, a life with them, friends they’ve seen since they were born and now, as grown men, get to meet up at the usual inn and talk about their wives and harvest and kids.”

I don’t think the life of a farmer is the life for you.

Murtagh couldn’t help but smile at that. “I don’t either. But sometimes I wish it were.”

You have a chance to do something meaningful, Murtagh. These people do not. You are educated, intelligent, prepared, and fit to help change the course of the world. You cannot hide away forever, and you know it. Once you heal enough, you will have a choice.

“I’m afraid.”

I know you are. That’s why you should do it.

“You mean, teach them? The new Riders?” He frowned his eyebrow, deep in thought. “I don’t think I would do such a good job. Besides, what kind of parents would accept the son of Morzan to teach their children?”

You wouldn’t be Morzan’s son. You’d be Eragon’s brother and one of the saviors of Alagaësia. Anyone would love their children to be taught by you.

“Well… Even if it worked like that, and it doesn’t, I wouldn’t be half as good a teacher as Tornac was. I wouldn’t know how to do with those children what he did with me.”

Yes, you would. In fact, you already have done something of the like.

“You can’t possibly mean Essie. I was just trying to be nice, and help her feel less alone.”

That is exactly what a good teacher should do. It’s not just about knowledge, it’s about how you see them, and treat them. You made Essie feel validated, and appreciated. And you would do the same for your students, if you had the guts to give yourself a chance.

Murtagh gave it a moment’s thought. He wouldn’t deny he found it appealing, to an extent. Essie did seem to have liked him enough. But the problem was she’d seen him as Tornac. She hadn’t been judgemental because she had thought there was no reason to be judgemental. But if he showed up as Murtagh? Things should be very different for that to happen. In truth, for the first time in a long time he was slightly excited about what the future held.

[elliemarchetti]

Red Queen Pride and Prejudice AU (Part 5)

@lilyharvord I'm sorry this chapter is so long but I think I got carried away. Hope you like it anyway.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Masterlist 

Words: 3095

Following an agreement between the two friends, the next morning Wren wrote to her mother to ask her to send the carriage later in the day, but this one, which counted on her daughter's stay at the Hall of the Sun until Tuesday, the day that marked an entire week of stay, couldn’t resign herself to welcome her with joy before then, therefore her answer wasn’t favourable, at least for Mare’s wishes: she was so impatient to go home she sent words to her mother too, but she said they also weren’t able to dispose of the carriage until Tuesday and she added that if Mr. Samos and his sister wanted to enjoy her company further, she could easily do without her, which further pushed Mare not to want to stay longer as not only she didn’t expect such a request, but she even feared they would end up considering the both of them as intruders for having entertained themselves without a real need, so she insisted with Wren to ask Mr. Samos himself if they were able to borrow his carriage, thus establishing that they would express their desire to leave the Hall that afternoon, which prompted many regrets; what was said had such an effect on Wren that her departure was postponed to the next day, causing Miss Samos to regret her words, as the affection she felt for one of the guests didn’t outweigh the dislike she felt for the other. She actually even liked Miss Barrow, it was the implications of Cal's interest in her that terrified her to the point of being rude and annoying. In fact, even her friend seemed to have come to his senses, and the following day he was careful not to let slip any sign of admiration, nothing that could give her the hope of being able to influence his happiness so, firm in his purpose, he barely addressed them ten words throughout the day, and although once they were found alone for half an hour, he devoted himself scrupulously to his book and didn't even look at her. On Sunday the separation took place and it was pleasant for almost everyone: Miss Samos was extremely courteous and showed all her affection towards Wren by embracing her with great tenderness and even shaking Mare's hand, gestures in stark contrast to those of Mrs. Barrow, who marvelled at her daughter's arrival and called Wren's decision to expose herself to the cold like that and to cause such trouble to Mr. Samos very wrong. On the other hand, her spouse, although very laconic in his expressions of pleasure, was delighted to see his eldest daughter, without whom the evening conversations had lost much vivacity and almost all common sense as Tramy was always immersed in his botany books, Gisa did nothing but learn new songs on the piano and repeat remarks of trite morality learned from her mother and Bree and Shade spent half their time with the officers.

"I hope, my dear," said Mr. Barrow to his wife the next morning, while they were at breakfast, "you’re going to make a good lunch for today, because I’m right to expect an addition to our family group.”

"What do you mean, my dear? Is it perhaps Mr. Samos?” she asked, her eyes already shining. Although she didn’t want to admit it, she hoped, deep in her heart, that her daughter's stay at the Hall of the Sun had stirred the heart of its tenant, or at least his cousin, but her husband revealed the bitter reality: he was talking about his own cousin, Mr. Jesper.

"Oh, my dear!" exclaimed Mrs. Barrow, "I can't bear to hear his mention. Please don't talk about that hateful man."

The hateful man in question was only a few years older than her eldest son and was extremely quiet and mysterious, and just like everything else Ruth Barrow couldn't understand, she just didn't liked him. Orphan of father as a child, his mother had served at Lord Davidson’s house until her death, and as any good relative should do, he had written to his cousin to communicate it only after the funeral, as not to create any kind of fuss.

"He must be a strange one, I think," said Mare, who had only had the pleasure of meeting him when she was so young she couldn't even remember.

"I can't understand him. There's something very pompous about his style... Do you consider him an intelligent man?” asked Shade to his father.

"Maybe he once was, but I don't have high hopes, given the mixture of servility towards his benefactor and presumption, yet the letter doesn’t seem to be badly written.”

As for the mother, Mr. Jesper's letter had made much of hers grudge vanish and she was now inclined to know him with a degree of self-control that amazed everyone present, which she lost at four o'clock when he walked in, right on time as reported in the letter Mr. Barrow had received nearly a month earlier and had kept secret until then. The guest was welcomed with great courtesy, and although Mr. Barrow spoke little, the ladies were quite inclined to chatter and filled the long silences of the newcomer, a tall, slender young man, with a grave and solemn look and manners very formal. He barely sat down when he started complimenting Mrs. Barrow for having such pretty daughters; he said he had heard a lot about their beauty but, in this case, fame was inferior to reality, and he added that he had no doubts about seeing them both, in the time due, happily married. This gallantry wasn’t much appreciated by Mare but her mother, who never found fault in compliments, replied very promptly that he was too kind, and she hoped so too. The gallantries was interrupted by the announcement of the afternoon tea, and Gisa and her mother exchanged a smile when the guest complimented the beauty of their home, especially the entrance and the furnishings of the dining room. Mare noticed that their host seemed to have nothing to say but compliments: the pastries were wonderful, the tea blend divine, and so on, to the point that she soon found herself bored and only joined the conversation when forced by her father. Lord Davidson's concern for his wishes and regard for his comforts seemed very commendable, but even in this case it was mainly praise, and it was time for dinner that Mare hadn’t yet understood what that young man thought of any topic, or whether he actually had thoughts of his own that differed from those of his benefactor, a childless and heirless man who was probably going to leave all his belongings to his dear Tyton once he died.

"It’s fortunate for you to possess the talent of flattering gently. May I ask if this pleasant attentions arise from a spur of the moment, or are they the result of previous preparation?" asked the host, and he enjoyed every moment of his awkward response, sharing a hidden laugh with the eldest daughter. The poor man couldn’t have imagined that the beautiful Mare Barrow had so little regard for him, and he confided to her mother that he intended, since soon he would’ve had a beautiful house and an income that he would never even allow himself to dream of, to marry and that he would’ve chosen his cousin's eldest daughter as his first candidate, so, when Gisa expressed the desire to go out for a walk and Mare decided to join in order not to always have the stranger around, her mother suggested that it was Mr. Jesper to accompany them.

"It would be nice if you showed him around, and that way he would get to know our neighbourhood," she said, candidly. In pompous nullity on his part, and in courteous nods of assent from the cousins, they passed the time until they entered the city, after which Mr. Jesper lost all appeal, and not even particularly elegant hats could distract the two sisters from their search for a particular man in uniform, Mr. Thomas, whom they found accompanied by a charming stranger, who bowed as they passed. Mr. Thomas immediately spoke to them, and asked permission to introduce his friend, Mr. Maven, who had returned with him that day from the city and declared himself willing to buy an officer's patent for their regiment. It was the only thing he lacked to be considered perfect, as the young man had a charming appearance, with a beautiful face and figure and very pleasant manners. After being introduced he immediately revealed his ease as a conversationalist, an ease at the same time perfectly correct and unpretentious; the whole company was still intent on chatting very pleasantly when they heard the sound of horses and saw Mr. Samos and General Calore approaching. Recognizing the ladies in the group, the two gentlemen immediately headed towards them and began the usual pleasantries. Samos was the one who spoke the most, and mainly to Miss Barrow, telling her that they were headed to the Skonos house for updates regarding Wren's health, which her partner confirmed, only to turn pale when he recognized the stranger, who in turn blushed violently, arousing in the Mare a curiosity that she barely managed to restrain. A minute later Mr. Samos, without giving the impression of having seen what had happened, took his leave and continued riding with his friend, soon imitated also by the other two gentlemen. Returning home, Mare stopped at Wren's house to inform her of what happened between the two young men but although she was willing to defend both of them, or neither too, if they were all wrong, she was unable to explain a similar behaviour more than her friend. Arriving home, Mare and Gisa were informed by their mother that Colonel Farley had invited them, and with them also the new guest, through their brothers, to a small gathering the next afternoon, which would also be attended by some officers. Although the question was never asked openly, the girls anxiously waited for the time to get into the carriage only to find out if at their friend’s home they would also find Mr. Maven, and as soon as they entered, they found with pleasure that the young man must’ve received the invitation along with his friend Mr. Thomas, as they recognized his voice. Having learned this information, and having all settled down, Mr. Jesper was free to look around and admire, and was so impressed with the size and decor of the room he said he could almost imagine being in his benefactor's summer breakfast room, a comparison which at first didn’t seem very gratifying and that after an accurate explanation, which kept him busy until the arrival of the gentlemen, only convinced Gisa. When Mr. Maven entered the room, Mare realized the admiration she felt at their first meeting wasn’t  in the least unreasonable: the officers were respectable and distinguished men and only the best were present at the reception, but he was far above all in figure, features and way of doing and moving, making him the lucky one to whom almost all eyes turned feminine, but it was Mare who was considered very lucky when he chose to sit right next to her and immediately began to converse, even if only about the humidity of the evening and the possibility of a rainy season. With rivals like Mr. Maven and the other officers to contend with him the girls attentions, Mr. Jesper and his long silences seemed to sink in insignificance but he still had, at intervals, a gentle company in Diana, who was used to being surrounded by men in uniform and didn’t particularly feel their charm. Once the game tables were set up, however, he had the opportunity to reciprocate: unfortunately Mare had been invited to play by Mr. Maven and Gisa by his friend, so she had found herself with Bree and Shade, but short of a partner.

"At the moment I know little about this game," he said, "but I'll be happy to improve if you will teach me."

Obviously the exchange hadn’t escaped the eldest of the Barrow sisters, just as the disappointment in her younger brother’s expression, but she said nothing, determined not to allow Gisa to completely grab the newcomer’s attention, who seemed, however, more interested in conversing with her than in the game and with extreme delicacy, and joy of Mare, who couldn’t wait to know the details of his relationship with General Calore, asked the distance from there to the Hall of the Sun and how long the cause of such embarrassment the previous day had been there.

"For about a month," Mare said, and then, reluctant to drop the subject, she added, "he's a person with very extended properties in the capital, from what I know."

"You’re right," replied Mr. Maven, “and you couldn't have met a person more suitable than me to give you certain information about it, since I have had very a close relationships with his family since childhood."

Mare couldn't help but be surprised, a reaction that seemed to push the young man to open up further with her, albeit still very cautiously, to the point that she had to reassure him that no one in the Stilts felt great sympathy towards him.

"I certainly can't pretend to be sorry," Maven said, after a short pause, "that he or anyone else can be judged as they deserves, but with him I think it doesn't happen often. The world is blinded by his wealth and his importance, or intimidated by his haughty and peremptory ways, and sees him just how he wants to be seen. "

"I would judge him, for what little I know him," Mare ventured, "a man with a bad temper. "

Maven shook his head, as if to say it wasn't just that.

"He is a cruel man, and his behaviour towards me was scandalous, but I sincerely believe that I could forgive him everything, really everything, except having betrayed the hopes and tarnished the memory of the father. "

Mare's interest grew, and she listened with a lot of participation, but the delicacy of the subject prevented her from asking further questions and so he began to talk about more general things, until he came to the reasons that had led him to accept a place in the regiment:" It was mainly the prospect of stable and good acquaintances. I knew it was a very respectable and pleasant regiment, and my friend Thomas further tempted me with his description of the current quarter and the many attentions the whole society has towards the officers, which, I confess, I need;  I suffered a disappointment and my spirit cannot stand loneliness. I need commitments and social life. Military isn’t what I was meant for, but the circumstances made it advantageous. The late Mr. Calore, as my godfather, had left me a small inheritance; he was a good man and was very fond of me, so he had thought to leave me something in his will, but when he died, a small formal irregularity left me no hope in regard of the law. An honourable man would’ve had no doubts as to what his intentions were, but his son preferred to, asserting I had lost all rights due to my extravagance. The sure thing is I can’t really blame myself for doing something to deserve it: I have a firry and reckless nature, this I must admit, and perhaps I may sometimes have expressed my opinions about and to him, but I don’t remember anything worse. Either way, the fact is that we’re very different people, and he hates me, and I nearly hate him as much, to the point that I would’ve publicly shamed him, if only I were able to forget his father’s goodness.”

Elizabeth honoured him for such sentiments, and he seemed more beautiful than ever as he expressed them, though she still had a few questions left, such as the motivation that might have prompted the General to behave that way, though she remembered being in the Hall of the Sun while he boasted his relentless resentment and unforgiving temper. Of course Maven couldn’t be affable on the subject, nor impartial towards him, so Mare immersed herself again in her own thoughts, only to exclaim shortly after: "Treating like that the godson, the friend, the father's favourite!"

She had to admit, the man's words, who had seemed so lovable to her, had troubled her deeply. It was as if a family member had decided to treat Diana or Wren that way if they found themselves in a situation of need, an inconceivable thought, which made her blood boil. It was disgusting, and he marvelled at how the General's own pride hadn’t led him to be fair to someone who had been his companion since childhood.

"It surprised me too," replied Maven, "since almost all his actions are traceable to pride, his only advisor and friend, who brought him closer to virtue more than any other feeling. But none of us are consistent, and in his behaviour towards me acted stronger impulses, preventing him from being generous as the poor and his tenants know him, and so dishonouring the family by failing to the qualities that make its name popular.”

Shortly thereafter the game tables broke up, but Mr. Maven didn't seem willing to move at all, and so Mare remained seated too, allowing other players to join them. So it was the turn of Diana and Mr. Jesper, who discussed his bad luck at gambling, and the fact that the money he had lost against his cousins ​​would certainly not be lacking, and indeed, he was glad that it had ended up in the pockets of his family members. One more game, shorter this time, and it was announced that dinner was now ready. Mare decided to let the other girls enjoy a slice of Mr. Maven's attention too, but she soon realized that whatever he said or did was said or done to put her in a good light or get her attention and when they left, her head was full of him, to the point that for the whole trip she couldn't think of anything else. Someone else in the carriage also seemed even more silent than usual, but Gisa, all busy discussing her victories at the game, seemed not to notice.

[redwritinghood]

Omg first of all you wrote enemy of my enemy??? I loved it so much omggg!!! Second of all, if you're still taking prompts i would love an au where marlas didnt happen and damen is officially courting laurent so they always need chaperons but they always escape them to be alone and aleron and theomedes are NOT happy about this

Technically still writing The Enemy of My Enemy but thank you, always enjoy being appreciated :)

Writing this with that “shy bookish boy” in mind where Laurent has wonderfully not had to face the book tragedies.

Damen saw the large willow tree that matched the description he’d been given and swung off the horse to land in knee high grass next to the river bank. He dropped the reins, allowing the horse to freely graze. Inside the natural tent of the willow branches was a private space. The shade was a relief, but the summer day was still too hot to be fully clothed. Fumbling with the excessive lacing, Damen loosened the sweat dampened shirt. The servant assigned to help him dress had been scandalized when Damen rejected the undershirt. One was already excessive. 

Somewhat freed of the oppressive garment he proceeded to remove his boots and collapsed into the grass. It was a relief to be outside of the palace, away from the over-attentive servants and curious nobility. Arles felt stuffy and confining, unlike Ios that was open to the outside with balconies and outdoor walkways. This excursion to the outdoors was needed almost more than Damen had realized. 

A patch of wildflowers mingled in the grass next to him and he collected a handful to begin weaving the stems together. This part of the river was more sedated than the frothing white rapids where Damen had accidentally rescued the crown prince of Vere. 

It had been several years but was still something Damen frequently thought on, back when the war between Vere and Akielos had seemed inevitable. While on a scouting trip, a fierce storm had arisen, separating Damen and Nikandros from the rest of their party and driven them into the forest for shelter. Somewhere during the midst of the violent tempest they unknowingly crossed the border into Vere. In the aftermath, they emerged on the Northern side, stumbling upon a raider camp next to the river. Realizing they had followed the river in the wrong direction the intent was to turn around without altercation but Damen had seen the raider’s blond prisoner.

Nikandros had protested vehemently but ultimately followed Damen on his rescue mission. They had the advantage of surprise but were greatly outnumbered. The fight could have gone badly, but once the blond prisoner was released and obtained a weapon the fight quickly shifted in their favor. 

Once the battle was won, the prisoner revealed himself as Prince Auguste. Similarly, Damen candidly introduced himself despite Nikandros’ elbow in his ribs.

There was a moment of uncertainty as they faced each other with swords still drawn. Then, surprisingly, Auguste laughed and sheathed the weapon. The two sanguine princes recognized each other as kindred spirits and agreed that this was an opportunity. Auguste wanted to introduce Damen to King Aleron, perhaps forging the beginnings of an alliance or to at least assuage the impending war. The royal family was in Marlas and only half a day's ride away. Nikandros continued to speak his objections but followed Damen, preferring to die with him than because of him.

Once hearing of the rescue and how close he had been to losing Auguste, King Aleron accepted Damen almost too graciously. Eager to offer him a reward for saving his eldest son. 

“I would offer you Auguste’s hand if he weren’t already betrothed and needed to continue the line,” Aleron said.

“I don’t need a reward,” Damen said uncomfortably. It wasn’t his reason for meeting the king and Auguste was perhaps equally surprised how well the enemy Akielon prince had been received. 

“I have a younger son,” Aleron said.

“Father.” Auguste objected, obviously disagreeing with this idea. 

Damen’s side was going to be bruised from Nikandros’ elbow. This time he agreed with him and was looking for a polite way to escape.

“That’s really alright—” Damen began.

“Someone fetch Laurent,” Aleron ordered, and servants hurried to do his bidding.

“You’re bruising me,” Damen whispered. That insistent elbow still poking his side.

“We need to leave before you’re engaged,” Nikandros hissed.

“I’m trying,” Damen said under his breath. It would be impossible to explain the arrangement to his father.

“Ah, here he is,” Aleron gestured when the doors to the court were opened.

Damen turned as he heard Nikandros say, “Oh no.”

Hoofbeats pulled Damen from the recollection. He sat up only to be knocked back down by a body colliding with his. 

“You know,” Damen said when he caught his breath, “your brother thinks I’m the one corrupting his shy little brother.” 

“Auguste still sees me as a child.” Laurent unwrapped his arms from Damen’s neck and pulled back to see his face. “Hi,” he blushed.

“Hi,” Damen smiled.

“May I?” he asked. Damen looked into the blue eyes, so unbearably close, and nodded.

This was his third visit to Arles to see his fiance. Laurent had been barely thirteen when he was suddenly and unwillfully promised to the former enemy. Understandably, he had been unhappy. When Damen returned to Ios, he wrote several letters hoping to learn more about him. It was several months before he received a short response answering questions in a brusque dismissive fashion that impressively relayed little information. Damen suspected Auguste or someone else had forced Laurent to respond. Despite the discouraging reply Damen persisted. 

During the first visit, Laurent had been predictably detached, and Damen spent most of his time with Auguste. But because Laurent was Auguste’s second shadow, they consequently spent time together. He typically opted out of any sport or game that Damen and Auguste would partake in but always stood as witness. Damen hadn’t expected much interaction from Laurent, he was still young, and unfairly betrothed. However, by the end of that stay Laurent was noticeably less callous.  

The next visit Laurent had altered from the suspicious aloofness to a timid interest now trailing Damen, even without Auguste’s presence. With a hesitant eagerness Laurent shared his favorite scrolls, his thoughts on the recent philosophy debates, and introduced Damen to his horse. The shy sincerity was incredibly endearing and Damen suspected there weren’t many people Laurent was comfortable sharing his thoughts with. He loved that Laurent was slowly opening up to him and Damen hoped he did nothing to dissuade him. 

Written communication increased significantly. The letters used to be a burden, something Damen forced himself to do. When Laurent began to open up, the conversation surpassed interesting to exciting. Damen was almost intimidated by the intelligent penpal and his fascinating perspective.

This was the first visit since Laurent had turned eighteen. As if to demonstrate this Laurent had physically matured and it was impossible not to notice. The guard detail had been instructed to be in constant attendance. The two princes were not allowed to be alone together. Because of this, they had not even kissed. The building anticipation had become nearly suffocating. To Damen, even holding hands had become an illicit act. Laurent sliding closer on benches or couches until their knees touched had nearly driven Damen mad. And it was Laurent initiating most contact, exasperating his guards when they had to find a way to respectfully peel the prince off the Akielon visitor. 

This was the moment, and Damen felt it with an ache through his entire body. He slipped a hand into the blond hair, holding the beautiful face. Shyly, Laurent leaned in, eyelashes dipping. Damen pressed forward, carefully, restraining himself against rushing Laurent. Lips met tentatively, just a ticklish brush. It wasn’t enough, but Laurent had drifted back, eyes still closed. 

“Laurent,” Damen whispered, and felt Laurent’s breath against his cheek. He resisted the desire to pull him in and take his mouth. The quiet hesitation evoked one of Damen’s fears that after all of this Laurent wouldn’t find him appealing. Being forced to sit still and endure the silence was torture.

Having Vere’s beloved younger prince in a compromising position above him made Damen equally excited and nervous. The peace between their countries was tentative and they were constantly observed so there was no slight or breach in protocol. What had been an expression of gratitude had turned political and restrictive. Theomedes saw the engagement as another war to be won and constantly warned Damen against any affection. This attitude had bled over into Vere and Aleron had become of a similar mindset. It may have even been his initial mindset when proposing the engagement. Having his offspring rulers of two seperate countries was a good tactical maneuver. Meanwhile, Theomedes searched for candidates that would produce an heir. This hung over Damen’s head, he wanted to tell Laurent, but it was a private matter, not something he wanted to share with the Veretian and Akielon guards. They could be bigger gossips than kitchen maids. 

That thought was silenced when Laurent’s eyes opened, the blue so bright it was almost startling, then miraculously, he smiled and Damen stopped breathing.

“Again?” Laurent asked. It took Damen a moment to realize he was asking for another kiss. 

“You want to?”

“Yes,” he breathed. 

Damen’s heart sang as he grinned, “You don’t have to ask with me.”

In response, Laurent’s arms slid around his neck and this kiss was the one Damen had needed. Deeper and longer. Laurent opened his mouth, hands sliding into Damen’s hair. He moved closer bodies now pressed together. Damen held him, arms around his waist.

“Was that— alright?” Laurent asked once they had separated and he had caught his breath.

Damen held Laurent’s face between his hands, “Yes, it was more than alright.” He kissed Laurent’s forehead, the timid innocence was so endearing he thought his heart would burst.

“You were also— adequate,” Laurent said with a blush.

Damen laughed, “Thanks.”

“I brought my favorite poetry scroll,” Laurent said scrambling up to retrieve the scroll from his horse’s saddlebag. 

While Laurent read lounging in the grass, Damen continued the flower crown and when finished placed it on top of the golden head. The blue and white flowers remained in his hair through another interlude of kissing.

After some persuasion Damen recited Akielon poems and epics in his native tongue. Laurent settled in next to him, head on his shoulder to look up at the sun filtering through the twisted branching. The flowers still in his hair.

“Are they all about war and conquering?” he asked.

“The most popular ones are. Warriors are highly regarded.”

“Were you ever disappointed that our engagement averted a war?”

“No,” Damen said. “I would be nervous to fight Auguste in serious combat, he’s very skilled.”

“I initially comforted myself by realizing that the engagement would essentially end all wars between our countries. And with Auguste as king of Vere I was certain I could manipulate you and mediate some hundred year treaty.”

The confession made Damen laugh, “You wouldn’t have to manipulate me. Whatever archaic dispute that led our elders to war no longer applies to us.”

“Is that a promise?” Laurent asked sitting up to look down at Damen.

“A promise that while we’re alive there will be no war between our countries?” Damen asked.

“Yes.”

“I promise,” he said and was surprised when Laurent dropped down to cup his face and fervently kiss him.

In the thick heat of the summer afternoon, Laurent was persuaded to remove his boots and step into the river.  Damen knew removing his clothes to bathe in the river would be an affliction on the tender Veretian sensibilities. As if to prove this Laurent had turned red when Damen removed his outer garment wearing only pants. Damen frequently caught him staring and would watch him blush and turn away. Not much coaxing was needed to bring Laurent into an embrace and kiss him while they stood waist-deep in the river. The cool pale hands traveled up his biceps to his shoulders almost reverently. 

“Laurent.” Auguste’s voice was a baritone traveling forcefully over the water. They had been discovered. 

Damen pulled on his boots as the brother’s argued. So far Damen had witnessed Laurent win every argument against anyone who dared oppose him, with the exception of Auguste who seemed to be more of a blind spot than a master debater. The two sets of guards were not far behind and with the older brother’s instruction the younger was whisked away.

Damen took his time as he dreaded redressing in the complicated jacket and lacing it by himself.

“I trust our agreement still stands.” Auguste sat next to Damen in the grass while he tried to reassemble his shirt.

“I haven’t fucked your brother.” The agreement to not sleep with Laurent until their wedding night had been easy to make when Laurent was thirteen.

“I don’t blame you for your efforts, I bedded my wife before our consummation. But he’s my little brother, I still feel— protective.”

This confession only further irritated Damen and he briefly imagined shattering the innocent image Auguste held of Laurent. It wasn’t Damen initiating physical contact and arranging secret dates.

“I won’t start anything,” Damen said. It was a little dishonest considering Auguste was blind to his younger brother’s burgeoning sexuality. 

“I appreciate it,” Auguste said, then reached over to help Damen with his laces.

Dinner that evening was uncomfortable. Laurent, with the flower crown still in his hair, was unremorseful and the two brothers had not reconciled. It was clear they had never been at odds before and the court was unsure how to react to the feuding siblings. 

After retiring to his chambers, Damen was settling in for the night when a noise outside his balcony disturbed him. Laurent dropped down out of the night but the more surprising part was how he was dressed.

“Where did— where did you get that?”

“I had it made. Is it accurate?” Laurent did a little twirl to show off the chiton and the fabric lifted revealing even more thigh.

Damen had to sit down, he had never seen more than hands and feet. “Not bad. Did you have the sandals made also?”

“Yes.”

“Why?” Damen asked, he was having trouble breathing. Not only was the flower crown still present on the blond head but the chiton was especially short and the knee-high sandals drew special attention to the bare thighs.

“Isn’t this the fashion in Ios?” Laurent asked. “Am I expected to dress strictly as a Veretian once we’re married?” 

“You’re getting a little ahead of yourself,” Damen said, “We still have over a year.”

“I like to be prepared,” Laurent said and adjusted the white cloth. Damen looked away, there had been the slight glimpse of pink nipple. If he was going to uphold his promise to Auguste he would have to make Laurent leave. But he really didn’t want that, any of their time together was precious.

“What’s wrong?” Laurent asked.

“You can’t be here.” Damen had averted his eyes. “We aren’t supposed to be alone together.”

“That didn’t bother you this afternoon,” Laurent said and stood still observing Damen. “Did I do something?”

“No,” Damen said and reached out. Laurent accepted the offered hand and allowed Damen to pull him down into the seat next to him. The damn chiton was even shorter sitting down. “If we weren’t already engaged I would be on my knee in front of your father asking for your hand.” 

Laurent’s blue eyes hadn’t softened, “Then what is it?”

Damen knew there shouldn’t be any secrets between them, “I made a promise to your brother that I would wait until our wedding night for— you know.”

With an exhale Laurent slid onto Damen’s lap. “My brother has no say or control over my body. If I decide I’m ready now isn’t that my decision?”

“Of course,” Damen nearly choked. His hands came up automatically to hold Laurent’s waist. “Unless you find me unappealing,” Laurent said. 

“No one finds you unappealing,” Damen said and helplessly tugged Laurent closer. 

“I realize now that your hesitation was trying to respect your promise. It’s an honorable trait.” Laurent smoothed a hand into Damen’s hair, the cool palm cupping his face. “However, any further decisions regarding my body are to be made by me.”

“Understood,” Damen grinned. 

“My current decision is to allow you to take me to bed.” The coy smile almost physically hurt.

“Laurent,” Damen groaned. His head dropped onto the bare shoulder. “I want you so badly.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“I don’t want to risk offense. We’re not even supposed to be alone together. I can’t lose you.” Damen spoke against Laurent’s shoulder noticing how goosebumps blossomed across the pale skin.

Laurent was quiet briefly, stroking Damen’s hair, “The engagement was not my decision, but as the younger prince I expected it was my fate to be traded for some political or financial gain. The bids even began before I turned twelve.” Laurent watched Damen’s hair slip between his fingers. “I thought I was prepared, but I didn’t expect to be— happy. I don’t intend to lose you either.” 

Damen’s heart swelled as he lifted his head to look into the beautiful face. “May I?” he asked, smiling.

“You don’t need to ask.” Laurent also smiled as he leaned in. It was still new, each kiss better than the last. This time Laurent took more control, his head above Damen’s and with both hands smoothing through his hair. Boldly Damen traced a hand up the bare thigh feeling Laurent’s reaction with his body so close. 

“What is this?” Damen asked when his fingers ran into a slice of unknown fabric.

“I didn’t know what was typically worn beneath these so I fashioned something myself.” Laurent lifted the skirt revealing cloth crudely made to fit between his legs and around his hips. “Why are you laughing?”

Any other time Laurent’s unconscious reveal of so much flesh would have almost stopped Damen’s heart but the strange little modest piece of clothing was so ridiculous and unexpected

“There’s nothing worn beneath them?” Laurent asked, more fascinated than scandalized. 

“No,” Damen said, he had barely managed to explain through the laughter.

“It must be very warm there.”

“Compared to here, yes. I can’t wait to show you,” Damen said using his mouth to find the pulse point in Laurent’s neck. The soft sigh reminded him where they had been going before Laurent’s reveal. The kissing continued softly, Laurent tenderly exploring the act with lips and tongue. He pressed closer, their bodies together. Damen detoured to the slender neck, recalling that initial reaction with that soft sound. He wasn’t disappointed, the reaction was innocent and genuine. The quiet moan of pleasure would have brought Damen to his knees. Unconsciously, Laurent’s head tipped back allowing Damen more access. His hands traveled beneath the chiton he held Laurent at the natural dip in his waist, the skin warm. This startled him and he flinched before exhaling with a nervous laugh. 

“I suppose that is one advantage to wearing so little clothing.”

“Are you sure you’re ready?” Damen asked.

“Yes, I’ve just never— it’s my first time.”

“I’m a little more experienced than that,” Damen said, his thumbs stroking the smooth skin of his stomach.

“Yes, that is apparent,” Laurent said, his face had warmed slightly, responding to Damen’s touch. 

“Really?” Damen asked, pleased. Laurent made a sound of affirmation before resuming the kiss. He unthinkingly reacted to the caress against his abdomen with a movement of his hips that ground against Damen. He was going to flip Laurent onto his back and escalate the encounter when the door to his chambers opened. 

Damen was frustrated and horrified to find not only the prince’s guards invading his quarters but also Auguste and King Aleron. Laurent stood up with a sigh straightening the chiton with no self-consciousness or embarrassment. The blue eyes lifted towards the invaders, prepared for battle. He couldn’t have been more intimidating with a sword in hand.

“What are you wearing?” Aleron asked, looking over the exposed limbs of his son with disgust.

“Do you like it?” Laurent repeated his little twirl to show off the garment. 

“This is not a game, Laurent,” Aleron said. “You have deliberately disobeyed me.”

“You have implemented nonsensical rules for only me,” Laurent stated.

“They’re to protect you,” Auguste stated.

“Protect me from what?” Laurent asked, turning his icy gaze towards his older brother. 

Auguste glanced uncertainly at Damen where he stood off to the side. “Protect your innocence,” he said.

“No,” Laurent said, “The only thing you’ve been protecting is your idea of me. For years I’ve endured visiting dignitaries whisper in my ear of what they would like to do to me. The insipid and specific gossip of pets is impossible to ignore. Especially those that have involved my own brother who has taken numerous candidates to bed or an empty hallway, whichever is closer.”

“Laurent, stop talking.” Aleron’s face was red.

“There are also scrolls and illustrated manuscripts of any erotic position you might wish to master available in certain temples.”

“Laurent.” A vein bulged on Aleron’s forehead. “Escort the prince back to his chambers.” The red faced guards stepped forward to take Laurent by the arm. 

“Auguste was hardly chaste even before being engaged and yet you impose these rules on me for what reason?” Laurent asked, still talking as he was led from the room. 

“Damianos, I must request that you pack your belongings and be prepared to leave by morning,” Aleron said. “I will have a ship ready to depart for Ios at dawn.”

“Father, we should talk about this before acting, we don’t want to risk offending Theomedes.”

“You are not the king yet, Auguste. My orders are still to be obeyed. Perhaps you should go talk some sense into your brother.”

Auguste’s face had hardened and the resemblance between brothers was clear. “Yes, my king.” He said turning on his heel.

Aleron and Damen were alone. The king cleared his throat before speaking, “I recognize how Laurent can be a— temptation. So I’m not going to place the blame entirely on either of you. But I don’t like the  brazen and reckless way my son behaves when you’re around.”

“If that’s the case, I’m proud my presence gives him the courage to speak his mind. I’ve enjoyed watching him grow into a confident young man,” Damen stated.

“I see,” Aleron said, his eyes traveled over Damen in consideration. “There will be a guard escort waiting to take you to your ship in the morning. The details of the engagement will be discussed when everything has settled down.” This final blow statement Damen and he failed to notice when Aleron left. The oblique political speak could be interpreted in a myriad of ways, but it made Damen worry. The night went by without sleep and the restless anxiety that his fear would come to fruition. A blue flower that had come free of the crown now rested on the couch where they had been. Damen tucked it into a fold of his robes.

The knock came before the sun was up. Damen did a head count of his guard escort and knew there weren’t enough, and that if he really wanted to, he could fight them off. 

“I want to say goodbye to Laurent,” Damen said.

“Our orders are to take you directly to the docks.”

Damen could have taken them, fought his way to a goodbye but couldn’t further jeopardize the engagement and went peacefully. In the stables he searched for a blond head and any chance that Laurent would make it in time. On horseback with the little entourage surrounding him, Damen continued to look over his shoulder. Even on the ship while sailors continued last minute preparations Damen clung to the railing, staring over the sandy hill hoping for even just a messenger with a letter. Ropes were cast off and Damen’s heart sank as the anchor was raised. 

He half turned to retire to his cabin when a horse crested the rise. Laurent rode onto the docks without slowing, the horse pushed into a merciless sprint. The coarse wood rattled beneath the hooves. Sailors shouted at him and the guards from Damen’s escort chased him down or attempted to startle the horse into stopping. The ship had pulled away from the dock. Damen didn’t know what Laurent intended to do as he charged towards the end. 

His heart was in his throat when Laurent leapt from the back of the horse into empty air. Damen reached for him, catching him with an arm around his waist, and pulled him over the rail into the solid safety of the deck.

Laurent was laughing while Damen worried his heart had stopped.

“You’re insane,” Damen said breathing a relieved laugh. His brain becoming preoccupied with the realization Laurent was beneath him. 

“You tried to leave without saying goodbye,” Laurent breathed.

“Sorry,” Damen said and unable to resist, kissed him, deep and heartfelt. Around them the ship had broken into chaos. The anchor dropped and the sailors tried to go backwards to the dock despite the tide ready to take them out to sea. Damen sat up pulling Laurent along with him. He knelt on the rough hardwood deck, still wearing the ridiculous chiton that caught in the salt breeze taking it, and his golden hair, in every direction. Damen pulled Laurent up off the rough deck, and arms circled his waist.

Laurent pressed a cold hand against Damen’s face. “This isn’t really goodbye. We’ll fix this.” He leaned in folding his arms around Damen’s neck in a loose embrace. With hands holding the slender waist, Damen pulled him back into a kiss, desperate to keep him close for a little longer. The blond hair blew into his face. 

Laurent pulled back, “Quit distracting me, I can’t think and we have to plan.”

Damen had to tell him now. It wouldn’t feel right to do it in a letter. “I wanted to tell you in a better way, but now with everything happening I need you to know that my father has been looking for other candidates. Specifically, ones capable of producing an heir.”

“Is that what you want?” Laurent asked calmly.

“No,” Damen said, and took the cold hand from his face to hold between both of his, “It will only ever be you.”

Laurent’s expression was still carefully neutral, looking down at their clasped hands.

Damen took the flower from his pocket, “Since neither of us was given a choice. I’ll ask now.” Damen went to a knee and tied the flower around Laurent’s slim finger. “Will you marry me?”

Laurent nodded, expression solemn. “Yes,” he said, then made a small sound of surprise when Damen pulled him down for a desperate kiss holding the slender body as close as he could.

Laurent pulled away to breathe, petting Damen’s hair. “You’re behaving like we’ll never see each other again,” he said.

“I’m not sure we will.” 

“We will,” Laurent said. “I spoke with Auguste through the night. We were able to reconcile. The current rulers can choose to keep us apart but their time is almost over and you will be better.” 

Damen captured the wayward blond strands of hair and smoothed them out of Laurent’s face to see the bright eyes. “We will be better,” Damen told him. “But no matter what happens I will keep my promise.”

“Good.” Laurent smiled before Damen pulled him in for a final kiss.

[llendrinall]

Omg what if Draco was also a spy for Dumbledore? Like imagine him biting his tongue when everyone is hateful and cruel to him cuz he's gonna have the last laugh when it comes out he was a spy. And in this version Percy still fucks off. Draco stays behind cuz he wants to see everyones reactions (especially his asshole boss that made his life fucking hell) He could be a seer in this and secretly became friends with Harry during Hogwarts. Idk, add whatever you want ❤

Ha! I don’t know why that “Idk” at the end made me laugh.

I have different mental versions of Draco. I can see him more or less happy, more or less certain of what he wants to do or of his relationship to the wizarding world. Other things are fixed, they are the things that make him Draco and appear in all versions of him, like:

1.- He can draw. He might have more or less practice, but he can draw pretty well.

2.- He is smart in the sense of doing very well academically, being able to understand something instantly. He doesn’t need to put many study hours, so he doesn’t.

3.- He doesn’t like Dumbledore. Regardless of his relationship to his father and Voldemort, he just doesn’t like Dumbledore as a person. It has nothing to do with how Dumbledore treats people (although that certainly doesn’t help) it’s more visceral. Just like some people will look at an actor or celebrity and go “no, I do not find Jimmy Fallon funny and can’t tell you why”. This is the same.

So Draco would never become a spy for Dumbledore. Dumbledore’s spy, hell no.

However, at some point Draco looks at Voldemort’s white flabby face and thinks “oh, no, I’m not doing this.” He decides he is going to work against Voldemort, but with whom?

(Draco is very proud of knowing when to use “whom” and also lives in fear of getting it wrong).

Draco has to find someone who can be an actual challenge against Voldemort. The Ministry is out because they are stupid, incompetent and infiltrated to the brim. And who else is there? Potter? Draco goes to class with Potter. He has seen how he spells, meaning both his charm use (Potter knows one a half spells and that’s it) and his orthography. He simply can’t consider Potter a serious contender against Voldemort. Nothing against him, Draco actually, (secretly) kind of likes the guy, but Voldemort can read minds, knows all kind of ancient magic and performs incredibly complex curses and conjurations.

Draco has seen Potter lick ice-cream out of his t-shirt.

If Draco wants to get rid of Voldemort, there is only Dumbledore. Draco doesn’t spy for him. He does nothing regarding Dumbledore that involves the preposition ”for”.

But he shares information. There is a “to” in there. Give information to Dumbledore. He can do that. Draco is quite smart, so he is able to deduce Voldemort’s strategy from little clues. He knows about Voldemort’s quest for information (both for the prophecy and the elder wand) months in advance.

This does not happen in the same universe as Percy Ministry Spy, but Percy is acting as a spy nevertheless. This means that Dumbledore has a pretty easy run setting his plans in motion and ensuring Voldemort’s defeat. It also means that he suffers though some absolutely miserable months which probably have something to do with his enthusiasm for the let-Draco-kill-me plan.

Each and every interaction with Draco is a reeling experience. Draco is not handing the information for nothing. He wants Voldemort dead by next month and when Dumbledore doesn’t deliver, he complains. He complains (note the italics). Draco doesn’t ask for the manager because there isn’t one, but he actually asks if Dumbledore has any older siblings Draco could talk to. You could say Draco acts entitled, demanding and full of expectations, but those words mean nothing. Draco breathes past entitlement to land somewhere between “Angel of Vengeance” and “Greek fury”, only instead of a flaming sword or claws, he has attitude and an excellent command of grammar. What a horrible little child.  

Meanwhile, Snape has developed the habit of twisting every conversation so he can say “pity you don’t have any other orphan available to sacrifice” and “oh, if only we had a child to endanger” and “yes, but how can we solve this by killing a child?”. It is very rich coming from him. Dumbledore is not amused. Apparently there is a line for Severus Snape and that line is drawn when sacrificing oneself for the greatest good.

(“Ah, but it is not yourself who will do the sacrifice, is it?” Snape says, and a week later Dumbledore tells Draco that of course he will let him kill him. Draco scoffs and rolls his eyes as if somehow that wasn’t enough).

And then, there is Percy Weasley. Neither Snape nor Draco are supposed to know about him, but they both know and it is unclear how. Probably Percy himself let them know (no, he didn’t). He would do something like that (no, he wouldn’t). Percy is a horrid nightmare (he… he may be). Dumbledore despises him (and how!). Snape will talk about Dumbledore not doing the greater sacrifice but Dumbledore honestly can’t think of anything worse than working with Percival Weasley.

(70% of Dumbledore’s dislike comes from the suspicion that Percy might be two or three points more intelligent than him. After almost a century used to being the most intelligent person in the room by far, Dumbledore does not like this new scenario. He misses Grindelwald.)

Dumbledore dies. Then so does Potter (briefly), followed quickly by Voldemort (permanently). Surprisingly, Snape also jumps into this dying fashion until he thinks better about it and survives, although severely wounded. Percy doesn’t die but as soon as the battle had ended and all Death Eaters are either dead or apprehended, he dissaparates right there from the Hogwarts grounds.

He sends a postcard to Draco a month later, which is kind of nice. There is also one for Snape and Draco props it next to the vase of flowers by his sickbed.

Thus begins the After-War.

By day two, Draco understands why Weasley left so quickly. It is a fucking disaster. Potter has to plant himself by Snape’s bed to stop the Ministry from arresting him. The man is barely coherent and barely alive and yet they wanted to interrogate him and transport him to a holding cell. The Ministry. The ones who allowed themselves to be infiltrated.

It is perhaps unsurprising that when the Ministry sends a hastily formed examining tribunal to Hogwarts, so students can sit their OWLs and NEWTs in August, the examining tribunal refuses Draco.

Draco doesn’t particularly care. He is rich enough that he doesn’t need to work and, in any case, once they finally start proper investigations and find Dumbledore’s trove of notes and testimonies in his sealed will, Draco will be exonerated and recognized as the hero he is. This insult or punishment, whatever you call the Tribunal’s unfair treatment of him, doesn’t hurt. Draco is immune to their attacks.

Soon after, he receives a letter from bloody Hermione Granger saying of course he can sit his exams, they expect him on Tuesday at ten. McGonagall will be there to put the fear of herself on the Tribunal and ensure they are fair.

And… he appreciates her intervention, he really does. Awfully nice of her. True moral backbone. It’s just that… Draco actually enjoyed the insult? He realizes now that he only attempted to sit the exams because he expected them to say no.

He sits the exams and aces them. They are particularly hard in the last one, the astronomy test. McGonagall coughs three times, rolls her eyes and finally says “bloody enough, don’t you think? He has shown he knows the material.” He sends her a handwritten thank-you letter just to be annoying.

Draco realizes that his behavior is very odd, but given that Weasley has fucked off to somewhere and that Snape refuses to heal so he won’t have to talk to people, Draco believes he is entitled to some oddities of his own. Thus, he begins collecting insults. From the low-brow and simple “Death-Eater scum” to the vitriolic “murderer”. The best, and the worst, are the ones that don’t come wrapped in words. Shunning and discrimination. Oh! He can’t explain it, but they taste tart and sweet.

He likes it. Not the dismissing, no, but the idea that they don’t know him and that their judgment of him is wrong. If that means they will also wrong him and treat him badly, so be it. It doesn’t change that he and Snape and Percy Weasley, are the heroes of the war.

He applies to a mediwizard program and is naturally denied. Then he tries a traineeship at the Wizengamot, also denied. Just for the fun of it, he applies to the Auror Office and receives a wonderful letter of rejection that has an actual dead spider inside the envelope.

It has been three months since the end of the war, now, and Weasley refuses to let himself be found. Snape barely manages to stay awake for three hours, and only with Draco. Evidently the stress of the war did a number on them, so it’s perfectly understandable if Draco keeps prodding and asking and applying to things knowing full well that he will get a resounding “no”.

You would think this was some sort of atonement for his past misbehavior and his admittedly awfully narrow views and even more abysmal manners regarding muggleborns. But Draco is quite sure he atoned for all of that when he lied to Voldemort’s face and, more terrifyingly, he lied to Aunt Bella’s face, stole their secrets and passed them to Dumbledore. He doesn’t need to punish himself any more.

No, it’s just… it’s just hard. He has spent three years with a carefully crafted lie as his only protection. It is not so easy to discard it. He liked that lie. It kept him alive.

And then, come October, the Ministry takes Malfoy Manor and all associated assets. Just like that. Puff. Seized. They haven’t even begun an official investigation on Draco, but they have taken his house as a precaution.

Now it’s personal.

It turns out that Draco is a vindictive asshole, who would have guessed? Probably everyone but him. Doesn’t matter. He will make them pay. The Ministry, the papers who ran the headline about Draco becoming homeless and the people who cut the page and framed it. They will regret it.

He moves into Snape’s ugly cottage because he has no other place to go and if Snape has any objections, he can say so when he pleases. Oh? He can’t talk? Too bad, then.

The Ministry has also seized his funds and Draco draws a line at using Snape’s meager savings (he assumes they are meager, he hasn’t actually checked) so he gets a job in the only place that would employ him: a seedy tea shop in the North side of Diagon Alley. The only reason the owner hired him was because the previous assistant tried to burn the place down and he was in a bit if a rush to find a replacement. After a week, Draco understands why someone would want to burn the place down, and that’s before his boss realizes that Draco is drawing a small crowd of people who like seeing him serving tables. From then on, he takes to screaming and insulting Draco for absolutely everything before turning to his customers with a smug smile.

Every time he or any of the customers complains, Draco smiles a cheap version of the smiles he used to give Voldemort and vows. Sometimes their words sting and sometimes they break against his armor. He lives in a weird state between immunity and pain.

Dumbledore’s actual true will, to be open by Hermione J. Granger (funny how he didn’t address it to Potter) is found in late December. Given the state of the Ministry, Draco expects that they will only get around summoning Granger by early February at best.

Weasley sends another postcard around Christmas. This one comes with an address, in case either he or Snape also want to drop everything and fuck off, he supposes. Draco writes back explaining he is bidding his time to exact just retribution over all those who wronged him and Snape is in no condition to travel. Weasley writes, well, he doesn’t write, he sends a third postcard with quite a nice drawing of a thumbs up.

Snape can now sit up and read the paper. He still can’t get a single sound out, but he can manage sighing in a very meaningful way. They receive another summon to have Snape declare before a Tribunal and he groans before passing out and staying unconscious the next two days.

All things considered, Draco is evidently the one coping better so he feels he can afford a little extravagant behavior like sitting in front of a mirror and practicing his own sighs of heroic suffering for when the vindication comes.

It comes in March.

The world goes absolutely insane. People knew that Snape had done… something, mostly because Potter had very obnoxiously advocated on his behalf.

(Potter is so obnoxious. He comes every Tuesday to Draco’s tea shop and asks for a cup of tea that he barely touches and stays there for an hour saying nothing).

But they had no idea of the extent Snape’s involvement. None. All the curses he surreptitiously knocked aside, all the misfired spells. It wasn’t just gaining Voldemort’s trust and acting on Dumbledore’s plans, he, Snape, personally saved two dozen lives with none the wiser. He was so good at acting covertly!

That should be enough to make any good newspaper editor foam in their mouth, but there is more. There is Weasley, going twenty steps ahead and being ridiculously clever and talented and just… knowing what to do. There is already a shrine to him in Coleraine because he did something very important there and the locals were merely waiting to find a name to put to it. Percy Weasley has been declared tax exempt in all of Ireland.  

Draco merely has a meager thirteen lives saved on his ledger, but he also has three years of cleverly betraying Voldemort. It doesn’t look like much, but once details emerge of how he stole information and passed it to Dumbledore, the whole thing becomes charming. Double-o-Drac-o, is what the muggleborns are calling him. Snape assures him it’s a good thing, but he doesn’t elaborate because he is a bastard who pretends that writing tires him horribly.

Snape wasn’t planning on surviving the war and for the first time in years he is unprepared. He deals with it by trying to shut the world off. If he wasn’t so weak from his wounds, Draco is quite certain that he would have buggered off to wherever Weasley is now, to sit on the sun and be silent together. He certainly does not appreciate the wizarding world’s earnest interest in him. You would think that the fact that he can’t (or, at this point, won’t) speak would deter them a bit, but it only adds to Snape’s tragic charm. Some women and many young men are particularly attracted by it. Fortunately, Draco has only had to chase two of them out of the house because even though Snape can’t say a word, he remains very skilled at non-verbal magic so he hexes every journalist and deranged fan that has the misfortune of coming close to him. Meanwhile, Weasley doesn’t want to be found (“nooooo” says his last postcard, Draco is a bit worried at the lack of capitalization) and has a ten-month head start. He won’t be found.

This means there is only Draco. Shameful bronze medal in the saving-lives business, but with a delicious aura of cleverness and bravery, a whole year of suffering in silence during the post-war, and a face that was made to be dramatically lighted, photographed and printed in the front page.

Wil you answer our questions, Mister Malfoy? Oh, but he will, he will answer every one of their questions and give all details. No one has given so much, sacrificed so much, suffered so much as him.

“I literally died, Malfoy.”

“And I couldn’t afford dying, Potter. I had to survive. Now, get out, these people have some more questions.”

Potter has moved from coming every Tuesday to the stupid tea shop to visiting them at Snape’s cottage. Draco only lets him in because he might annoy Snape into talking. Plus, he is nimble, he can avoid all of Snape’s hexes and the extra exercise will do Snape good.

His relationship with Potter is… strange, but fittingly so. Everything else has been weird lately, why not this? Potter had always elicited interest, but once people learn that Dumbledore had more or less raised him for the slaughter and that when Potter found out he nevertheless went ahead and died, the press and the public in general goes even more rabid. You would think that with so many shocking stories the scandals would dull each other. But, far from that, the public is on fire, incensed, and each piece of news is kindling for the flames.

Potter, unfortunately, does not have a photogenic face (he tends to look like a sad lost deer in all pictures) and all the attention stresses him out. Draco offers him a mutually beneficial deal: Draco will take care of the press for him and Potter will stop the Ministry from returning the manor and his fortune.

“How is that beneficial?”

“I want to tell the press that they took it from me with no evidence before they have the chance to hand it back.”

“Ah, fair enough.” Potter says. He does not seem to be a big fan of the Ministry, which is a pity because this time the Minister is not attempting to kill him, use him, or run a smear campaign against him, unlike the previous ones. It seems that the odd behavior isn’t restricted to Weasley, Snape and him. The other Weasley (Ronald), Granger and Potter are also displaying oddities. Mostly, there is a lot of yelling at the Ministry (Granger) and at every single adult who ever interacted with Potter (Weasley, Ron). Potter isn’t doing any yelling, but he has taken to following Draco around and chatting at Snape.

(No, not “to” or “with”, “at”. He chats at Snape and Snape suffers in silence having accepted that Potter will deflect every hex thrown his way).

Draco doesn’t judge. He is still working at the horrible tea shop with the even more horrible and petty owner (who has no idea how to treat Draco now and spends every waking second alternating between insults and clumsy flattery) simply because he wants to lord over the Ministry that they took his house and money. If Potter feels like he has to follow Draco and harass Snape into making a full recovery, so be it.

There is, of course, the question of Weasley (Ronald) wanting to know where the only tolerable Weasley (Percy) is. Draco doesn’t tell, despite having his address on postcard number 2. That would be a betrayal bigger than anything he did to Voldemort. He could never do that to a person who managed to annoy Dumbledore so much.

What he does is sit down with two cups of tea and explain to Weasley (Ronald) what his brother did and what he went through and why he might not want to interact with any one he knows when, instead, he could be lying face down on a nudist beach in Spain. It helps. Weasley (Ronald) doesn’t track his brother down, but he manages to get him to reply to his letters. He is overjoyed.

The news about having lost his ancestral home and fortune come out and people are adequately irate. He enjoys it, but not as much as he expected. Some people squirm and blush and walk into doors with the embarrassment of how badly they judged him. Some even apologize to his face which is frankly disrespectful because then Draco has to be civil to them. Overall it is unsatisfying. He wants more, but he doesn’t know what he wants.

He almost accepts one of the multiple offers he keeps receiving to enter this or that prestigious program. He would make a good a lawyer. Fortunately, Weasley (the cool one) talks him out of it via postcard. The postcard has nothing written on it other than a smiley face (evidently the brother talks are going well) but it shakes something inside him.

This gives him the idea of apologizing to Longbottom (extremely uncomfortable for both of them) and Granger, who gets him in a number or boards and committees as punishment. Draco competes to be the most disliked person in each committee, which is hard because Granger is in some of them. She asks for immediate liberation of house-elves and a transition program for them and Draco finds himself demanding (just like he did with Dumbledore, full of bile and entitlement) historic reparations. Each blood-line who ever held a house-elf will contribute proportionally to the transition program. He gets death threats over it, it’s great.

Two years after the end of the war, Draco finds himself back in his manor, with most of his money (he doubled his contribution to the elf fund because then the families who want to wash their names would have to do the same) and, mysteriously, Harry Potter in his bed. He has no idea how that happened. He is quite certain he was too busy being a little shit to seduce anyone. Was he seduced when he wasn’t looking? How dare he?

He also has half a dozen very important postcards on his mantelpiece. The only thing he doesn’t have is an ex-Death Eater, ex-potion professor, living in his mansion because the old bastard finally got well enough to say “bugger off, both of you” and then fled to Ireland where the nice Weasley has got a nice little cottage of his own.  

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

57 Pings

The prompt from anonymous was this:

From the prompt list!! Can I get #51 w/Cayde-6 x female hunter reader? I don’t see any Destiny stories on ur page but it look like u mentioned it!🙏🏻

Cayde-6 x Female Hunter!Reader

Warnings: fighting and non-descriptive mentions of dying

1,698 words

“He is pinging us, again.”

You banked your sparrow against the Exodus Black debris sending up a spray of sand and dirt as your ghost spoke in your ear. Your cloak whipped around you, slapping against your helmet once, making you feel even more aggravated than you did 10 seconds before it happened. Usually you weren’t so sloppy or reckless on your sparrow, but according to the 57 pings from your Vanguard, time was of the essence.

“Open the communication channel.”

Static briefly filled your helmet before it turned to voices. The first full statement directed to you came from a cheery, robotic voice you recognized with ease, “Captain! Welcome back! The Cayde-6 is once again in grave danger, are you here to provide assistance?” Glitching static turned into a disappointed, dreary version of the robotic voice, “Somebody needs to put out the fire he’s caused.”

“Yes, I’m here to help the dumbass. Where is Cayde-6, Failsafe? Is he still in the Glade of Echoes?”

“Why yes, I am, and I do not appreciate the tone or derogatory comment on my intelligence.” Cayde replied himself and you had to resist the urge to roll your eyes. A pack of Fallen fired on you as your sparrow flew by them, but you just hunkered down onto your seat and sped up.

Nessus scenery was a blur of red and white around you as you finally reached an open portion of the terrain where you could really open up the engine. Failsafe, both her cheery and depressed side, rattled off another comment this time directed at the Exo himself.

“Just know this, Vanguard.” You interrupted whatever he was replying to Failsafe to speak up, “If the Vex and Fallen don’t kill you, I will.”

“Oof. Vanguard? You’re really upset at me aren’t, you? Did I interrupt something important? Were you—”

You groaned, “Shouldn’t you be shooting and not talking?”

“I’m a very good multi-tasker.”

You took another sharp turn and the sound of gunfire and yelling filled the air. The Glade of Echoes was not your favorite spot to visit on Nessus even on a normal day. It was a mess of metal wreckage where Vex and Fallen liked to wage war against one another, and there was just enough tunnels and coverage spots that made fighting back a giant pain in the ass.

A large Vex minotaur stood in an alley opening firing toward a half-broken billboard relentlessly while a smaller pack of Vex goblins fired at a pack of Fallen that were also shooting at the billboard. Something told you that’s where you’d find a certain, impossible Exo.

You drove your sparrow straight into their warpath and leaped off last minute. The sparrow tumbled into the goblins while you slid under the Minotaur, between its legs, tossing up a grenade at it at the same time. Shots were fired at you, you didn’t even know who from, but you ducked and rolled toward the billboard. The grenade went off, throwing the minotaur off balance, and you took this opportunity to climb up the wreckage and dive behind the cover it provided.

“Well howdy, Guardian.”

Cayde-6 was crouched down in front of you. His back was pressed against the wall and his hand cannon, Ace of Spades, was held up in front of him ready to fire when needed. His signature cloak’s hood was pulled up as per usual but none of the hood hid the smug look on his blue, metallic face.

You dismissed your helmet, letting strands of your [hair color] hair fall into your face. Cayde’s glowing blue eyes were trained on you and his jaw flashed yellow as he spoke, “Welcome to the party.”

“How did you manage to make every living thing in the vicinity angry at you?”

“Hmm, good question.” He held a finger up and motioned it toward you, “Why are you angry at me? That might help me figure out an answer.”

You pulled out your own hand cannon and Cayde’s eyes darted to it before landing back on you. Quickly, you made sure it was fully loaded and Cayde mimicked your actions. This wasn’t the first time the two of you were up against a crowd of angry enemies who wanted you dead. As Hunters, working as a team didn’t come naturally to either of you granted. It took years before you found a fireteam you trusted or worked well with. Cayde-6, though? Working with him was never difficult. Interacting with him was effortless, and you’d done it enough now that much talk wasn’t needed.

Your Vanguard gave you a look, and you returned it with one of your own. His eyes lit up with amusement as you brought your helmet back into place. Cayde nodded once, and then the two of you went to work. In a flurry of gunfire and solar energy, the two of you took out Vex and Fallen alike one by one.  Their numbers dwindled down to only a handful.

You fired your last shot, blowing a particularly annoying Fallen away, and then backtracked away from the corpse while reloading your weapon. As you turned, you watched as Cayde threw out his knife, taking out a Vex, and fired the Ace of Spades point blank into the face of a Fallen that leapt toward him.

One Vex crept out from behind a lump of broken metal and snuck up behind Cayde. You hadn’t finished reloading but gave up on it to grab your knife in your opposite hand. Without hesitation you lunged forward and buried it into the back of its head at the same time that Cayde spun around with his gun up.

The barrel was aimed at your head for only a second or two before Cayde grabbed the cloth of your cloak wrapped around your neck, yanking you towards him. He kept his grip tight on you as you stumbled into his chest and then he fired two shots towards enemies behind you. You glanced over your shoulder in time to see the last two Vex fall to the ground in sparks.

“Captain! The two of you did amazing! Thanks to you, the area is clear.” Failsafe spoke over the comm channel in her typical flip-flopping ways, “Granted, it was your fault the area was flooded with enemies anyways.”

Your shoulders relaxed and you put your hand cannon back into its holster. It was only then that you realized Cayde still had one hand tangled in your cloak, and now his other hand twitched at his side as his gaze didn’t waver from your helmet.

“Do you want to kiss as bad as I do right now?” Cayde said in a tone that held amusement and something you didn’t quite recognize.

You dismissed your helmet again, gave him a soft smile, and replied, “No.”

His blue eyes blinked in shock, and you took his confusion as an opening to untangle yourself from him. Cayde rubbed the back of his neck, the confusion still evident on his features, “Well, either I’m bad at reading a room or you just ruined a perfectly romantic moment.”

“Romantic moment?” You scoffed, “Cayde, you’ve ignored me for nearly a month now and suddenly just call me up out of the blue to save your ass on Nessus randomly??”

You shook your head and brushed past him to leave the area. Maybe you’d stop by and see Failsafe in person before taking off entirely. That thought was interrupted as Cayde caught up to you with ease, “So that’s why you’re upset at me, huh?”

It was silly to be upset at this situation which was why you tried to avoid thinking about it the past month. There was too much going on in your life, and the universe, for you to worry yourself on the Hunter Vanguard dodging your messages and calls.

Cayde whipped around to stand in front of you, forcing you to come to a screeching halt, “Hold on, hold on.”

“What?” You crossed your armored arms over your chest tightly and twisted your lips in annoyance and embarrassment.

“Yes, I did sort of ignore you for a month and that is on me.” Cayde spoke with his hands, “But in my defense I was… thinking about something.”

You scoffed, “Oh, you were? Hope you didn’t hurt yourself too badly.”

You tried to push around him again, but Cayde side stepped easily and stopped you. This time he kept his hands on your shoulders as he spoke, “You said we should hang out more.”

That was accurate. On one of your last missions together, before the silent treatment, you suggested that the two of you should spend more time together. It came from an after-mission buzz of confidence. Things had gone very well, the two of you walked away with some great loot, and the words slipped out before you even really knew what you were asking. Cayde had nodded in response, went his own way, and then hadn’t talked to you until today when he sent a random message asking for back up on Nessus.

“Cayde-”

“I want to hang out more.” He said quickly. For the first time in a long time, maybe the first time ever, you saw hesitance on his face. Cayde-6 was a lot of things, but hesitant was not one. He tore his gaze away briefly before settling it back on you, “Sorry it took me some time to work through it and figure it out.”

Your own features softened and Cayde squeezed your shoulders with both hands. With a sigh, you lifted one of your hands to set on top of one of his, “When I said hang out more, I meant like get a drink. Notpiss off every Vex and Fallen in a 2-mile radius.”

Cayde shrugged and shifted so his hands on your shoulders turned to one of his arms hanging off it. You responded by putting your own arm around his waist as the two of you continued walking through the now abandoned Glade of Echoes, “Who says we can’t do both?”

[yoosungimagines]

Aaaa hi!! Your blog is so cute omg... Can I request Yoosung going to the party and meeting the player, but the player is a boy??

This took a long time and I am so sorry for making you wait!! ;; 

YOOSUNG DOES NOT LOSE HIS EYE IN THIS VERSION. 

Hope you enjoy!

Rating: PG13

Warnings: Cursing

“We both know that you weren’t exactly supposed to find out about the RFA, right?” MC hummed his agreement. “Well, and I’m sure you already know this, but it’s kind of hard to trust a stranger who has the private app.” 

“You were never supposed to have it. Everyone was already suspicious of you and I could tell Jaehee didn’t believe your story, so think of me telling everyone that you’re a girl as a means of protection.” Seven was nothing but cheery while all MC wanted to do was reach through his phone and beat his ass.

“What do you mean by protection? How is lying about my gender gonna protect me?!” 

“To put it simply, they’d trust you more if you were a girl,” Seven said matter-of-factly. “You’ve seen how flirty Zen and Yoosung are, right? They’d trust you in a heartbeat if you were a girl. Jaehee’s the only woman in the RFA and I know she’d appreciate having another woman on the team. Jumin… I don’t think he’d care either way. But there you have it!”

“Having you pretend to be female would be more ideal than telling everyone the truth when the situation is already so dangerous.” He said it all so casually as if MC didn’t have a say in the matter. “You understand right?” 

Did he even have a choice?

-

MC doesn’t understand how he’s gotten this far without getting caught. The phone calls, the slip-ups, hell, even his name wasn’t questioned. They were either extremely merciful or just plain… Dense. 

His voice isn’t that high, is it? He’s been in calls with each and every one of them so many times, how the fuck did they not notice? 

Especially Yoosung. 

Sweet, sweet Yoosung. 

Who’s made MC question his sexuality the entire time they’ve known each other. 

Who’s made MC wish so badly that he could be a girl so Yoosung wouldn’t feel heart-crushingly disappointed by the truth. 

They’ve flirted the most in the chat, talked the most, became best friends even. Then Yoosung had to up and treat him like a damsel in distress when the whole cult shit happened. 

MC fell hard. 

Yoosung was amazing, despite how childish he seems. Intelligent, goofy, beautiful, a fucking smooth talker when he wanted to be. How could MC not like this boy? 

But here’s the real fucking kicker. 

Yoosung, poor innocent Yoosung, asked MC to be what? 

His PRE-GIRLFRIEND. 

GIRLFRIEND. 

GIRL. 

“L M F A O.” Seven’s words. 

MC hates that guy. 

MC didn’t agree to Yoosung’s proposal. 

Didn’t even say anything. 

He just left the chat and ignored all the member’s concerned texts/calls. Ignored Yoosung’s pleads to forget all about it, that he was sorry and should’ve never asked, that he was just joking so “please come back MC.” 

Thinking about it makes him want to cry. 

But he couldn’t ignore them forever even if he wanted to. The only way MC could truly be free of all this is to attend the stupid fucking party that he himself organized. He needs to tell them the truth. Needs to apologize and just- get over all of this. 

Get over the RFA members, get over Yoosung. MC needs to leave and never come back. 

They may never forgive him or even look at him after the truth. But MC has to do right by them, even if it’s far too late. 

-

He feels suffocated in his suit. 

He’s wearing all black to mourn his soon-to-be lost friendships and his lucky tie in hopes that it’ll do something. MC’s always felt pretty dapper in his suit but not tonight. Not when all he’s feeling is his closed up throat and churning stomach. All intensified the moment he stepped into the party hall. 

He recognizes each and every guest he’s invited, the decorations he picked out with Jumin, the roses he and Zen chose. It does nothing to make him feel better, only intensifying the regret. 

That’s when Jaehee steps up to him. Jaehee who’s his rock, someone he could lean on whenever MC felt like all the work was too much. 

“Hello, could I have your name? I need to see if you’re on the guest list,” Jaehee says, in that smooth, respectable tone she’s always had. MC feels like crying. 

He has to tell her. Tell her and apologize. He needs to. 

“M-“, he nearly chokes, clearing his throat multiple times. “MC.”

He sees her eyebrows furrow, those golden eyes not registering what he’s said. “I-I’m sorry could you repeat that, sir?” 

“MC. My name is MC.” He smiles, crooked and wavering. “Nice to see you, Jaehee.”

Her hand flies to her mouth and MC would’ve loved to be able to laugh at her expression, but it’s not the time. He sees Zen and Jumin hurry over to her, her expression not going unnoticed by them. 

“Jaehee, is there a problem here?”, Zen asks, putting a protective hand on her shoulder as he looks at MC. MC feels his heart crack at the suspicious look he’s giving him. 

“This,” she swallows. “This is MC.” 

“Excuse me?” Jumin this time, giving MC an equally questioning look. “MC you say?” 

“But,” Zen openly stares at him, a look of disbelief on his face. “MC’s a girl…”

“I’m not. Haven’t been one in my entire life.” Despite the way he shrugs his shoulders, MC feels like hyperventilating. This is harder than he expected. Seeing their shocked reactions only makes the pain in his chest worse. 

“Seems like you guys found him first.” That chirpy voice. MC feels the headache forming. “Yo, MC!” Seven slides up next to him and slings an arm around his shoulders as if MC’s big reveal wasn’t happening. “Awesome party. You did a great job!”

“Seven, explain.” Zen is angry, MC could tell. “Why is MC… You said he was- was-“

“A she.” Seven nods. “Yeah well, surprise?”

“Luciel, this isn’t the time to be ‘funny’. You told us that he was a woman.” Jumin turns to look at MC. “You followed along.”

“I told him to. I felt it was the best option to secure your trust and in doing so, we found Mint Eye didn’t we? Everything was set into motion because of MC. We needed him.” Seven looks at all of them, daring them to speak against him. 

“But, MC,” Jaehee pipes up, and he’s never heard her voice this hesitant. “Why didn’t you tell us anyway? Surely after finding Mint Eye, you could’ve said something. Anything.”

“I was afraid, Jaehee,” he nearly sobs. The tears he’s been holding flow freely down his face and they watch, stunned as MC wipes at them. “I didn’t want to mess things up between us. I didn’t want to lose you guys. I-I…” He feels like he’s drowning, scrambling to say the words he needs. 

“I’m so sorry I deceived you. I know it can’t be forgiven, but please never forget that I am truly sorry.” 

He bows his head, watching his tear splatter on the floor. 

He can’t bear to see his reactions, not when he feels all torn up inside. 

“I forgive you.”

His head shoots up.  

Feels his breath stutter. 

Yoosung’s there. Right in front of him. 

Tears on his own cheeks and a warm smile on his pink lips. 

Yoosung looks even prettier in real life. His hair like spun gold, silky and wavy, shimmering in the bright light. Blonde strands fall like a curtain in front of his eyes, a deep violet that shone with his reflection.

MC can barely breathe. 

“It’s okay MC,” Yoosung’s saying. MC feels like he’s dreaming. “Thank you for telling the truth. I feel sad that you had to lie, but I forgive you.” His smile wavers and he chews at his lip, looking away. “Is that why… You didn’t respond that one time?” 

MC walks forward, shaking legs and all. “Yeah.” He reaches out and grabs Yoosung’s shoulders; nearly sobs again at the warmth he feels. “But I wanted to say yes.” 

Yoosung’s looking at him now, all sweet and hopeful. “You did?” 

“Yeah, if you haven’t noticed already I’ve been flirting with you for days.” MC cracks a small smile as Yoosung snorts, his hands taken into Yoosung’s own. 

“I’ve been flirting too,” Yoosung admits. “So I’m glad that you’ve been doing the same.” He squeezes his hands. MC feels his broken heart mending itself, feels it aching for this boy. This boy, who’s so fucking pretty and wonderful. He’s so lucky. 

“Thank you,” MC sighs, relieved and tired. So, so tired. “Thank you for forgiving me. Thank you for still liking me.” He bumps Yoosung’s forehead gently with his own, smiling more when he hears his hitched breath. 

“Yoosung, will you be my pre-boyfriend?” 

Yoosung’s smiling too, maybe even harder than MC is. His hands let go of his and fall to hold MC’s waist. “If you get rid of the ‘pre’, and never lie to me again,” Yoosung smacks his waist gently, MC laughing at the fake strictness in his voice. “Then yes, I’ll be your boyfriend.” 

“You have a deal.” 

-

Seven whistles at the sight of his friends kissing, happy and proud. “Now that’s a happy ending if I do say so myself.”

Jaehee’s smiling. “We should tell him we’ve forgiven him too.” 

“I agree. If Yoosung thinks it’s alright, then I trust his judgment,” Jumin says.

“Oh my fucking god, I’ve been sending all my selfies to MC and calling him ‘honey’. What the fuck.”