#her self preservation has always been stronger than anyone else’s

[ye-xiu]

junmo gave the two people he realised he loved and cared for a way out. and because haeryeon was always smarter than gicheol, she took it. and because gicheol has always followed what was bad for his business, he didn’t and came back. junmo gave them both the absolution no one else could give them, but it was only enough for one of them. it could never be enough for gicheol because nothing could have ever been.

[violetueur-archive]

@fallesto​​

Continued from: HERE

———- TO DO THE RIGHT THING, WAS THE ONLY THING THAT MATTERED.

As he had not even found the need to raise his sword or even let his hand wonder to it. The sight of the golden blade resting at his side, the size and shape of it as well….they knew what it was and linking to it, they knew who he was as well. It was enough to stop there pointless assault on this person and for them to turn and run as fast as they could away from this part in the city as he leaned forward, offering his hand to her and pulling her up and onto her feet.

“Are you hurt?” He commented quickly. His eyes wondering upwards and downwards to check her over to try and find any traces of damage, any signs of harm that was done to her. Did she not know how dangerous it was, to walk in the slums without someone else to protect you and watch your back, crime within his part of the city, had always been a problem with the royal knights and guards refusing to patrol even here…..so he did it himself and he enjoyed it, ensuring no one would be harmed, but it seems…..he was a little bit late to stop this assault.

“Hm, please try and ease yourself.” The small spirts that lingered around him, he would shift his head a little bit for them to flutter through the air to be around her, as there was a light blue glow as they were extending there gifts and thanks for him, onto her and healing any bruising and any cuts that might be causing her distress or harm as well. As he took a step forward and checked her over once more as the spirits finished….healing her and undoing, all of the nagging injuries she had suffered.

“Your going into shock, if you don’t control your breathing, please allow me.”

As he reached forward and placed his hand on her stomach, his fingers stretching and pressing in slightly. As he passed on a blessing, of warmth and comfort. To allow it to spread quickly throughout her body and then, calm her, reach the tips of her toes and then, the top of her head…..to sink within her mind and spread even there to lift any pain or sorrow that might linger even there as his hand was pulled and dropped down to his side as he offered her a small smile. He didn’t like…..having to do something like that, but he also didn’t like….seeing someone in distress and while there were a thousand different ways he could have removed her panic and concern, this was….the fastest and the least painful of them all.

“Please control your breathing and open your eyes, you are safe now, I won’t allow anyone to harm you, you have my word….”

She should’ve been stronger than this. She spent most of her life fighting and killing demons, for fucks sake. Humans were weak in comparison, yet they overpowered her. The shame of her failure weighed heavily on her shoulders, almost as much as the pain blooming throughout her body as she sat in the dirt upon her knees. She should’ve been able to defend herself, and these injuries should not be so agonizing, but somehow everything has slowly begun to overwhelm her from the moment she opened her eyes here.

Where is this? Where is she? What’s happening?

In all her years as a slayer, she had encountered her fair share of blood demon arts, so it seemed like the most reasonable assumption to make. It reminded her so clearly of that inescapable dream she’d been put under on the train... perhaps that was the reason the panic had begun to set in so quickly. Unlike that dream, nothing around her was even vaguely familiar. The land did not look the same, the people dressed differently, and she could not read the language. The more she’d tried to find a way to wake up and failed, the more her heart had become seized with the fear that she might not be able to. Her senses grew erratic the later it got, and as the world fell to darkness, Nicolette had found herself wandering in a haze through unfamiliar streets until the surroundings turned ugly and unwelcoming. Even then, she could not find the self-preservation to think clearly, until she’d be struck in the back of the head.

The force had left her vision swimming, sending her to the ground before her hand could move for her sword. The head wound painted blood down her face, obscuring her vision as it dripped into her eyes until Nicolette found herself merely... giving up, and closing them. The confusion and stress grew, until she could no longer maintain her breathing, instead inhaling rapidly enough to make her light-headed. She hardly even noticed when they ran away, nor when her own body reached for the offered hand and moved to stand. Everything was blurry, and she couldn't breathe— could hardly make out the words being said to her, either. The pain in her body began to settle inexplicably, and yet it did nothing to calm her.

❝ You’re going into shock, if you don’t control your breathing, please allow me. ❞

Shock? Yes, she supposed she was— had been slowly falling into it from the first moment she’d found herself here. Still, Nicolette attempted to fight back as the other reached out to touch her, shuddering at the hand pressing against her stomach. ❝ S—Stop... what are you you-- ❞ She grabbed at his wrist, inhaling deeply as a strange sense of artificial calm settled over her. The rapid beating of her heart eased without her permission and breathing slowed, even the tension in her body melted away enough that her knees almost gave out. ❝ What the fuck did you do to me... ❞ There was no bite to the words, though she tried to make them sound threatening. It felt entirely invasive, yet her own body couldn’t even respond with fear or disgust. She truly began to feel calm, until he spoke again.

❝ Please control your breathing and open your eyes, you are safe now, I won’t allow anyone to harm you, you have my word. ❞

Breath. Relax. You’re overthinking it. You reached your limit, your body is in pain, concentrate your breathing and calm yourself.

You can trust me. Nothing bad will ever happen to you again, I won’t allow it.

Stop. No. What was this? She didn’t understand... what was going on. He told her to open her eyes and she did, if only to muster all her strength and push her hands against his chest to shove him away. Yet her legs still felt weak, and the sudden movement had her tripping backwards and onto her ass. She felt sick... like she wanted to throw up, but there was nothing in her stomach expel. All she could do was grip her haori and pull it tighter around her shoulders before squeezing her eyes shut again. ❝ Please stop... ❞ This sick joke. This strange situation and those painfully familiar words. ❝ I need to wake up... ❞

[blackbutler-readerinsertsandjunk]

Hey! I just wanted to say you might want to update your bio(it still says you have 41 requests).and I was wondering if I could request Undertaker,Sebastian,and Claude with a female s/o who isn’t afraid of dying?like she’ll literally do the most dangerous stuff and not even be afraid of death.thank you!and I love your blog by the way 💕

AH YEAH I keep forgetting to update that thing! I changed it when I first got back and had 98 requests but haven’t updated it since then... I’ll try to be a bit more consistent with it, if I keep struggling I might take it away and just let people guess on how many I have at any given time XD

anyway!! this was a good one, very thought provoking~

and thank you!!! <3 <3 <3

Ah, well. That explains why she fell for him, at least; she’s infinitely closer to death when she’s next to him than in almost any other situation. Although he loves her and always does his best to protect her, it’s just a fact that the constant threat of death hangs over the head of anyone who ties themself to a demon. He finds her almost amusing in a way… a novelty of sorts. There haven’t been many humans he’s encountered like her. She’s not afraid, but she’s also not desperate like the humans who have made contracts with him have been. Although she may rush headfirst into danger (likely where he, the other servants, or their master are concerned, to keep safe her family), she can rest assured that her fearlessness doesn’t mean he won’t be at her side. They face the Danse Macabre together, or not at all.

Hmm, what an exquisitely brave lady he has on his arm. A rare will such as hers is something which always fascinates him, endlessly, even though he may not say as much out loud most of the time. Humans as a whole are quite entertaining, but to find one like her who isn’t afraid to charge into something dangerous, take a risk… he feels lucky indeed. A quiet part of him wonders if she knows just how admiring a gaze he often casts upon her. She’s special, that much is for certain. There’s no doubt at all that she enjoys being with her, watching just how far she’ll go. How far would you go if I asked you to? he wants to say sometimes. What recklessness would you run into for my sake? If your self-preservation instincts are none in the best of times, how much more could you be willing to face? Of course… he still has a duty to her. Whether she likes it or not, he’s stronger than she is, and he will never get to see how deep her fearlessness runs; he comes to her rescue without fail.

Hee-hee, she’s rather a bold one! Isn’t she just darling? So terribly unafraid of something which ought to terrify her to no end. It’s only natural for humans to be frightened of death, and to see someone who’s plainly not bothered is something which piques his interest. Not only that, her sweet company is his, which he’s grateful for. He does get awfully lonely and the day-to-day can be dull occasionally… he’s got her for laughs, and for just sitting round with each other. Despite that he acts as if she’s the greatest joke ever told, sometimes her lack of worry for her own life does give him a scare. After losing so many people, he doesn’t want her to be another one. He can’t bear to lose anyone else, least of all his beloved. If she doesn’t stop plunging herself into the wealth of hazards which surrounded the two of them, she might well become his next Bizarre Doll.

[mutatiio]

@mayxthexforce (from Obi-Wan for Maul)

When Obi-Wan opens his eyes, it feels like blinking. The transition from his awake self to the dream self is far smoother than he ever remembered it being. But that thought lasts only the few seconds it takes him to realize where, and when, he is. His mind completely overtaken by what were once his primary goals and thoughts at some point in his life that happened many years ago– twenty-six years ago, to be exact.

Bruck is right in front of him, running away. Obi-Wan is chasing him– right, he has to catch him, get him while Master Jinn is keeping Xanatos busy, make him tell him where they took Bant so that he could get her to safety. Bant. He has to save Bant. The reminder makes him push himself to his limit, nostrils flaring and heart hammering inside his chest as he chases after Bruck, refusing to allow there to be any more distance between them than there already is. Seven feet. Just seven feet. He chases Bruck down the stairs that ran parallel to the turbolift shaft that led up into the Jedi Council's tower. Their lightsabers alight and the only thing keeping the area illuminated– just two spots: one red, one blue, moving at inhuman speed. Bruck reaches the end of the stairs and rounds the corner sharply. Obi-Wan turns his lightsaber off, jumps the about ten steps he has left, boots squealing against the floor when he hit it, sliding a foot or two as he twists his body to face the way Bruck went and keeps chasing him the second he regains his footing, reigniting his weapon.

When his lightsaber lights up a small part of his surroundings again. He's not in the halls anymore, but in the Room of a Thousand Fountains.

Right now, due to the power-down, the waterfalls had ceased to run so all there was left were the structures and the pool, which hadn't drained at all. It is this realization that leads to him spotting a different shade of blue in the water, accompanied by a glint of metal. Bant is down there, chained to the bottom of the pool and sure to run out of air. Amphibians couldn't hold their breath underwater forever. They needed air just as much as anyone else.

"We had a connection that I can't explain. It wasn't the result of time, of yours spent together..." Obi-Wan's voice plays from the recorder device attached to Bruck's lightsaber. "It wasn't the result of secrets or confidences. It was something else."

"You loved her." comes Bant's response. A vulnerable conversation Obi-Wan had thought private, recorded and exposed to him now that Cerasi, the subject of said conversation, was dead, by someone he'd never particularly liked, but believed to be trustworthy in the way all Jedi are trustworthy, only for this betrayal to further taint the memory of his late friend.

"At least Bant kept her promise. She's taking your secret to the grave," Bruck taunts. "That's right Obi-Wan, Bant is dying. I won't have to do a thing. I'll just make you watch."

Obi-Wan's expression darkens. He turns his lightsaber off. Bruck swung at where he'd been standing, and hit nothing. He barely managed to turn his upper body in time to block Obi-Wan's attack, which came as silent and deadly as that of a predator. He didn't even ignite his lightsaber until he was less than a foot away from Bruck. Obi-Wan had trained his whole life up until now in defensive methods, he'd vowed to always fight to preserve life, and he'd promised Cerasi that he would dedicate the rest of his life to keeping peace. Yet, none of that matters as he attacks Bruck relentlessly, forcing the slightly younger Padawan back and up the rocky hill that made up the backside of the waterfall.

They reach the peak, lightsabers sizzling against each other and both pushing with all their might, unwilling to give the other any more terrain. But Obi-Wan is stronger. He shoves Bruck back hard enough to make him stumble and almost slip on the slippery moss that makes up the waterfall bed. A guttural sound, like a watery growl, echoes through the gargantuan room, and it is then and only then, as he watches the fear in the other boy's eyes, that Obi-Wan realizes that electricity has come back and that the water systems would come next–

The waterfall erupts back to life. The layer of moss once again acts against Bruck, stealing his balance from him as the pressure of the water sweeps him over the edge- but not towards the pools. He would have most likely survived if Obi-Wan had been backing him up towards the side of the cliff that led down onto the pools.

Obi-Wan rushes forward, too late to grasp Bruck's hand but just in time to watch him go down and hit several rocks, bones breaking and limbs twisting at impossible angles, before the fall stops when he hits the grassy ground. Bruck landed face down and yet, his face is still half facing towards Obi-Wan, his neck twisted at an unnatural angle. Obi-Wan stares, slowly brings himself back to his feet and turns on his heel, pale as the marble pillars that hold the temple upright, and makes his way down to the pool, jumping in and emerging about two minutes after, dragging Bant along with him, gasping for air as he emerges.

He awakens from the dream still gasping for air and still as pale as he'd been that day. Skin clammy and clothes sticking to his body as he sits upright and barely manages not to hit his head against the upper bunk, solely because at the same time he's sitting up, he's moving to stand, stumbling his way out of the shared quarters.

it's as seamless as waking. if he didn't know better, he might have mistaken this moment for reality. but he's been here before - though his first impression had been outside the temple. his second hidden away. both under the watchful eye of his former master. even with his foreboding presence, he does not register the force within the building the same. 

it had once been gnawing, scratching at the back of his skull, his mind static. a reaction to the lightside of the force, he'd decided. now it was more neutral. bordering on what he felt most days recently. 

it's one of those dreams. the shared connection he'd been shackled into by the force. with, of course, kenobi. both being and entity clawed at his memories, forcing him to relive and remember them. 

thankfully, this one seems to have nothing to do with him.

he can tell instantly that he’s surrounded by water. there’s a purity that emanates from it, the air fresh and pleasant. just how realistic were these ‘dreams’?? 

it takes him very little time to find the subject of this memory, his eyes adjusting to the darkness just as young - younger than on naboo - kenobi ignites his weapon. his previously darkened form is washed out by blue, his expression, even from this distance, grave and set. then he’s searching and maul follows his gaze when it lands. through the still water it isn’t difficult to make out the shape of a being. presumably stuck. 

" we had a connection that i can't explain. "

focus shifts back again. he knows, without a doubt, that this is kenobi’s voice. however, he does not recognise the other boy, the one illuminated in red and the source of this recording. then comes a second voice. 

" you loved her. "

judging from the wave of darkness, maul assumes that this had been a private conversation. one this boy should not have heard nor recorded. bant. the one in the conversation and likely the one in the water. or the topic of the discussion they were having. the former feels more likely - with forcing kenobi to watch. still, maul felt as though he was a step behind, like he was missing part of crucial context to truly grasp this situation. but there’s no time to ponder before the boys spring to action.

kenobi slips away into the darkness and maul’s eyes only adjust to track him just a moment before he’s striking viciously at the boy. he’s fighting in a way that maul has only seen from him once, though more concentrated now. anger and focus from wanting to save a life rather than frenzied fury from wanting to avenge one. the move is blocked, but is quickly followed by a flurry of others, forcing the ‘enemy' to retreat blindly backwards. 

maul followed behind them, intuition telling him how this encounter would end - for why else would he be seeing it other than guilt?? guilt, guilt, guilt. maul is beginning to suspect that this sentiment makes up all that kenobi is, more than blood and water, more than flesh and bone. his very being is so deeply entwined with it that it’s difficult to distinguish when it begins or ends. if it even does. if it ever will. 

guilt is a useless feeling. 

the battle has reached its climax. kenobi pushes the boy and, as if forewarning what is to come, he nearly slips. then came the growl and had maul not known better, he’d assume it came from kenobi rather than the water. 

then, as predicted, the boy is falling. the very battlefield he’d chosen working against him, his hubris killing him (maul should not judge, but he is). he moves to peer over the edge just moments behind kenobi, the telltale snap and crunch of bones marking the descent down. golden eyes stare, passive. the boy’s neck is snapped, his other limbs twisted oddly, too. 

dead, yet the air smells purer than before.

deserved, yet the guilt is clear within kenobi. 

maul watches kenobi from the corner of his eye though he is still facing the fallen enemy. he looks sickly. of course a jedi would not see this victory as it was.

he wakes as he had in the dream. seamless and easy, calm until it isn’t. the door shuts behind his begrudging partner. a moment passes before he rises and twists, pushing himself from his bunk to land firm, metal connecting with metal. and he follows, as he had before.

" kenobi. " maul says as he enters the ready room. it’s still unclear as to why the force has decided to connect them in this way. he has no desire to understand the intricacies of kenobi’s guilt and shame nor is he equipped to deal with the aftermath of him reliving each situation. there is one thing he is curious about, though. and what better time to ask- " who was she referring to?? "

[red-eft]

ohoo 12-20 for Ivy AND Adonis!

ooh alright :] thank u for the ask!! always happy to talk abt my dudes <3

i wrote a lot, sorry in advance wjlsdjflk

ivy

12. is your oc self-destructive? in what ways?

she’s a little self-destructive.. she overworks herself a lot, especially when it comes to studying/practicing dark magic. fiensal (her mentor) and cordelia (her girlfriend) know she does this and help keep her in check.

13. if you met your oc, would the two of you get along?

i think so! :-)

14. how does your oc want to be seen by other characters?

she wants to be seen as someone extremely competent and dependable. ivy hates the idea of being seen as someone useless. she’s tough and independent and Never Needs Anyone (she definitely needs other people).

15. does your oc have a faceclaim? if so, who?

she doesn’t have one yet eee….

16. what is your oc’s pain tolerance like?

she had an average pain tolerance until she started practicing forbidden/extra dark magic behind fiensal’s back. ivy has done some.. questionable things to herself in an effort to purposefully improve her pain tolerance. in her mind, it’s a win-win, because she learned how to use dark magic better and became stronger. she has a very high tolerance now.

17. what is the worst thing you have put your oc through story-wise?

there are two things that were pretty bad for ivy. one is the situation i mentioned above where she put herself through misery to improve her pain tolerance & magic abilities. the second is when [redacted] killed [redacted] and she couldn't do anything about it.

18. is your oc more cold and detached or up close and personal?

she tries to be detached since she’s afraid of losing her loved ones, but ivy is pretty warm and personal despite her best efforts.

19. how does your oc behave when enraged?

when angry enough, ivy will lash out at whatever upset her. she’ll try to talk it out, but just get more and more mad until she storms off to cool down. it’s rare for her to get that mad, though.

20. does your oc have a tendency to get jealous? if so, how does it manifest?

she doesn’t get jealous often, but when she does, ivy avoids the object of her jealousy until she gets over it. if she has to stick around, she might seem a little more agitated than usual, but won’t do anything else.

adonis

12. is your oc self-destructive? in what ways?

at the beginning of his story, adonis is the opposite of self-destructive. he’s extremely careful with himself- raised as a noble, he was always told growing up that if he was injured or killed, it would be the end of his noble house. but as the story goes on and he becomes braver, his sense of self-preservation basically goes out the window..

13. if you met your oc, would the two of you get along?

he gets along well enough with ivy, and i'm a little similar to her, so… maybe? he’d rather spend time with his friends than a stranger.

14. how does your oc want to be seen by other characters?

adonis doesn’t really want to be seen. he hates being in the spotlight.. but he’d like to be thought of as someone charismatic and strong (desirable traits of nobility). 

15. does your oc have a faceclaim? if so, who?

he doesn't have a faceclaim yet ^^;

16. what is your oc’s pain tolerance like?

at the start of the story, it’s pretty weak- he’s a little nobleman that’s rarely ever been hurt (except that time when he was a child and so badly injured he needed a whole heart transplant, but he barely remembers that). but a lot of things change during the story, and he ends up with a stronger tolerance. his still isn’t as strong as ivy’s or lorne’s though.

17. what is the worst thing you have put your oc through story-wise?

AHAH. well.. there are a few awful things i guess. he was in a brutal accident as a child. his father was killed right in front of him (originally i had adonis kill his father, but it was out of character for him to do that, so i changed it). he [redacted] and had to [redacted] too

18. is your oc more cold and detached or up close and personal?

he’s detached at first. being raised as a noble, adonis was always taught that commoners were below him. that’s another thing that changes for him.

adonis is still detached from others, but the cause is different. he goes from being detached bc of arrogance/what his father taught him to being detached bc of feelings of isolation and alienation.

19. how does your oc behave when enraged?

as a noble, he bottled it up kept his rage tucked away until it faded (it never really faded). now, he’ll let out some curse words and maybe pace around to get the energy out. if he’s enraged in a situation where it’s acceptable to kick ass, he’ll do that.

20. does your oc have a tendency to get jealous? if so, how does it manifest?

adonis gets jealous pretty easily, but he has a hard time identifying how he’s feeling most of the time. to him it usually just feels like vague frustration. but when he realizes it’s because he wants something, he’ll go after it so long as it doesn’t cause trouble for anyone else. 

[therealvalkyrie]

Painter’s Hands and Guatemalan Coffee: Part 5

very pretty, very beautiful

Pairing/setting: Levi Ackerman x Female!Reader, modern!college!AU

Summary: When you catch your idiot boyfriend cheating, your grumpy roommate is there to pick up the pieces and watch your back as you toe a carefully drawn line in the metaphorical sand.  

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: intoxication, swearing, feelings, nightmare, fluff, mentions of a deadly car accident

AN: WHOAH OKAY. So I’ve been thinking about the last half of this chapter every second of every minute for the last two days. It has haunted my dreams, y’all. Thanks to that, you get this before the weekend! Yay! Special thanks to @ghostlightprincess, @anlian-aishang, @cant-spell-slay-without-lay, and @horseanon--simpforall for helping me edit and giving me many encouragements and compliments which, quite frankly, made my head the size of Jupiter. I love you all dearly. As always, let me know what you think in my comments/DMs/askbox!! Don’t be a stranger!! And be kind to yourself and others<3 ~valkyrie

—

(read chapter 4 here)

“I think you’re very pretty.”

I think you’re very pretty?

Fuck. Shit.

“I-I-I mean,” Levi feels his throat tighten and cheeks set ablaze, “You’re very, uh, very beautiful.” He says it because it’s true, and the truth is what Levi relies on when his brain is short-circuiting. You’re more than pretty, more than something as trivial as very pretty, you’re gorgeous and smart and funny and it makes his palms sweat. Recently, you’ve been everywhere: in his bed, in his arms, in the periphery of his life even outside of the apartment. It’s overwhelming, this is overwhelming, how his hands are on you and how you’re looking up at him with insecure, anticipatory eyes. They’re glassy and red-rimmed, pupils blown to saucers.

Oh. That’s right, she’s high.

Levi lets his hand drop from the top of your head. He tries to move his other hand away from your cheek, but you grasp his wrist to keep it there. He can feel his own pulse fluttering under your fingertips.

“Very beautiful?” It’s soft, hopeful.

He forces himself not to retract the statement (because it’s true) out of self-preservation.

“Very beautiful, kid.” He can say it without stuttering this time. It’s important that you believe him, and it’s equally important that this is as far as it goes.

You close your eyes against the pet name and turn your face into his palm for a split second, press a swift kiss to it and then drop your hand to your lap. His heart stutters. He drops his hand, too.

“Thank you,” the words fall past your lips, careful and distant, as he takes a step back.

He needs some space. To get his head on straight, to scream into a pillow, to talk some sense into himself. Can’t risk this, not with you, not with you.

“Your, um, your pajamas,” he points to the end of the bed where they’re sitting in a neat pile, then turns tail and strides out of your room, shutting the door behind him.

In his room, his jelly legs finally give out and he flops onto his bed.

Fucking hell.

“Do you think I’m pretty?”

What kind of question is that? Do you not think you’re pretty? Do you care if he, specifically, thinks you’re pretty, or was it intended more generally? Very pretty, very beautiful. What does that even mean?

Levi may not be eloquent in the least, may not know how to confess that you make his every breath burn in his chest, but he does know how to paint. He stands up, wiping sweaty palms on his flannel pants and examining the painting on his easel. His mom stares back, her eyes sparkling, her hair tumbling over one shoulder in ebony waves. It had taken him the last few days to get the curls just right, and when he added the last highlights of shine, it’d finally felt complete.

“Sorry, mama,” he murmurs as he lifts her to set her against the wall under the window.

A new canvas procured from his closet finds its place on the easel. He sifts through his supply drawers for a moment, setting paints and brushes and charcoal neatly on his desk.

He takes a deep breath, situates himself in his wheelie chair, and leans forward to start sketching.

—

It’s 5 AM when you start screaming in a long, shuddering cry, causing Levi to jolt up in his seat, paintbrush poised over your left temple. It breaks off into sobs that make his gut twist and hands clench. A long moment, then you’re letting out another keening wail and Levi is out of his seat. Paint splatters from the brush where he drops it on his desk and his chair rolls back as he runs, ripping doors open and narrowly avoiding furniture in the dark.

You’re sprawled out, thrashing on the bed, sheets tangled with your legs. Levi sits on the edge of your bed, brows pinched in worry, and reaches for your shoulders. This is okay — he can touch you when you ask for his help. When you whimper and reach for him in your sleep, he can pull you close and smooth a hand across the planes of your back. It’s when you’re looking at him, all trusting and expectant for something, that he’s unsure.

He says your name, low and urgent, once, twice, before your eyes open mid-sob. They’re wide and terrified, your jaw tight, muscles clenched. “It’s me, kid, it’s just me,” he intones, “It was just a dream, you’re safe, it’s just me.”

Your heaving chest slows for a second, hitches somewhere in your sternum, and then you’re launching yourself forward and into him. He catches you there, steady against his chest.

“Breathe.” He sets an example with his own deep breaths.

It’s a long minute before he feels you relax at all, before he feels you sigh against his neck. Your arms are tight around his middle and you must be stronger than you look because after a while it starts to pinch. He doesn’t mind, though, just traces patterns on your back and stares at the pale wall.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He feels you shake your head.

“Do you want to go back to sleep?”

You hesitate before you whisper, “Only if you stay.”

Levi thinks about the wet paintbrush currently drying to his desk. He thinks about the mess of clothes on your floor. He thinks of the half-finished painting of you in his room. “Okay. I’ll stay.”

You pull back, and he gets a look at your face in the near-dark. Your eyes are still acutely haunted, but they’ve regained awareness. He lets you take a moment to wipe at your cheeks as he reaches to gently disentangle the sheets and spread them more carefully over your legs.

He looks up at you again to catch your sad eyes with his. Your head is tilted quizzically, knowingly, sympathetically all at once as though he were the one who just woke up screaming. It makes him itch.

“What’s that look for?” he grumbles, toeing his slippers off and tucking them under your bed.

“Nothing,” you hum. “Come here, please.”

He blinks at you for a second. That’s my line. But he goes, crawling into bed with you and slipping under the covers. He lets you tug his arm gently so that he’s on your chest. He gets comfortable there, one arm thrown over your waist and head rested over your heart. Your own arms find a home cautiously around him. You exhale with the grounding pressure of his body on yours and let your mind sink into calm release.

—

The knock on your door breaks your attention from your laptop. You sigh, finish typing your sentence, and push your blue light glasses up your nose before standing up to answer it.

You’re not expecting anyone, but maybe Levi is. He’s been holed up in his room all morning, Chopin drifting lazily under his door, probably studying. Like you’ve been trying to. The second series of knocks on your door makes you jog the last few steps to pull it open.

“Hi—” the greeting dies in your throat when you see who’s standing there.

“Hi,” Annie says. She’s standing, nonchalant as ever, in her winter parka and leggings, holding two to-go cups and a pastry bag.

“What?” It’s a breathless question, genuinely confused. It doesn’t harbor the animosity you would expect — you’re not sure you can feel anything other than queasy right now.

“I got your voicemail.” 

You blink in confusion. She rolls her eyes and thrusts the to-go cups at you with a brief “hold these” before reaching into her pocket for her phone. You just stare at her while she taps and scrolls for a minute. She looks the same as before you stopped speaking: blonde hair tucked into a bun at the back of her head and hoodie peeking out of the collar of her jacket. Maybe a little more tired, though Annie always seemed to be tired.

She holds up her phone for you to hear as a voicemail starts playing and, to your further shock, your own tinny voice spills out. It sounds like you’re crying, and slightly muffled.

“Annie, hi, um, I know it’s late but I couldn’t think of anyone else to call, I just,” sniffle, “I know we’re not talking and I’m still mad at you, like REALLY MAD, okay? But I couldn’t think of who else to call and long story short I think I’m in love with Levi and he might’ve just rejected me but I just couldn’t tell—”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” you cut in across your own voice, stepping into the hall with her and toeing the door almost shut behind you. She stops the voicemail. “But why are you here?” You know why she’s here — Annie never backs down from anything, and you had started the conversation, even if you’d been drunk and high and half asleep and you don’t really remember doing it.

“You called, here I am. That’s what best friends do.” Her tone is even.

“Not best friends who fuck their best friends’ boyfriends,” you snap, anger finally bursting from your stomach and into your throat.

She closes her eyes impatiently, sighs, then looks at you again not quite pleadingly.

“Look, if you want me to leave, I’ll leave. But I’m here now and there’s more to the story that you aren’t aware of.”

“What else could there possibly be?”

“Let’s go for a walk and I’ll tell you,” she offers, then holds up the pastry bag. “I brought coffee and donuts. They’re jelly.”

Jelly donuts are your favorite.

You look down at the cups in your hand. You look back at her steady blue gaze. More to the story.

“Fine.” You turn and kick the door open a little too harshly. “Just let me get dressed.”

She follows you in, even though you don’t extend an invitation, and closes the door softly. You put the cups down on the coffee table and watch her sit in her usual spot on the couch to wait for you out of the corner of your eye. You scowl but say nothing.

It only takes you a minute to shuck off to pajamas and pull on jeans, a sweatshirt, and boots. You don’t bother with a bra.

You knock lightly on Levi’s door and call through, “I’m going for a walk, so make sure to lock up if you leave. I have my keys.” You jingle them as evidence and he grunts in acknowledgment. “Let’s go,” you turn and address Annie, who stands.

The walk down your street to the river is short and habitual, your feet carrying you while your mind races. You can feel the anger and hurt, visceral and stabbing, in your chest. But there’s also something tender there, too, something that acknowledges how you missed your best friend. Something that screams at you to tackle her to the ground and feel her stoic comfort. Instead, you shove your hands deeper into the pockets of Eren’s jacket and kick a pebble, sending it skidding down the sidewalk.

The pair of you reach the walking bridge over the river and pause at the railing. The sky is overcast, threatening a snowstorm. A car beeps downtown, reaching you distantly. Annie hands you a coffee and a donut. You lean against the railing and avoid her gaze.

“So. You wanted to talk. Talk.” You bite into the donut.

She sighs through her nose. “I know what you saw. We… we did kiss, but we didn’t do anything else. We never had sex.”

“Hmm.” A sip of coffee.

“I know you have no reason to believe me, but it’s the truth. I’m guessing you didn’t exactly listen to Reiner when you broke up with him?”

“I didn’t have time for his bullshit excuses.”

She breaks off a bit of her donut and stares at it contemplatively for a moment, “I know you don’t owe either of us anything, and this isn’t meant as an excuse, but will you listen to why, at least?”

You press your lips together, sneak a look into her devastatingly blue eyes, and nod. What harm can it do? And you have to admit there’s a large part of you that’s been wondering at the why, even if you’ve refused to hear it.

“Okay. Tell me why.”

She takes a deep breath and leans her elbows on the railing before starting to speak, low and pensive.

“I’ve known Reiner and Bertholdt a long time, since we were kids. We’ve always been this… this odd group. You wouldn’t think we were close if you didn’t know us. But it wasn’t always just us.” She pauses, looking distant. “Do you know Porco Galliard?”

Galliard… “He’s a sophomore on the lacrosse team, right?”

“Yeah. Do you know what happened to his brother?”

“He has a brother?”

“Had. Marcel. He was a year older than us but somehow ended up in our little group. And a couple of years ago, senior year of high school, we were all in a car accident. He was home on winter break and we’d all had a little too much to drink, and we convinced him to take us to Denny’s for midnight milkshakes. And, well, there was a winter storm coming in and it’d been freezing rain that week, and we crashed. Marcel died. It was… I hadn’t…” She pauses, tilting her head back to the sky, blinking away tears. “It was horrible.”

Your eyes have gone wide, cast downriver. You don’t know what you’d expected when you walked down here, but it certainly wasn’t this. It wasn’t Annie, only rivaled in her stoicism by Levi, choking back tears and wiping snot from her nose.

“Hey,” you start, voice gentler than it’s been all day. “You don’t have to—”

“No, no, I want to, just... give me a second,” she interjects, wringing out a hand. She takes a deep, purposeful breath.

“Okay,” you whisper, looking back out across the water.

“It, uh, it hit us all really hard, brought us really close together. That’s why we all ended up at school here, actually. It kinda made us realize that, like, time is limited, you know? We don’t have forever. And Bertl, he…” she smiles, watery and reminiscent. “When he asked me out, it felt like a long time coming. It was just about perfect. He felt safe and like home, and… well, you know how in love we were. But I could see that it alienated Rei, at least a bit. He tried not to show it, but I could tell he felt like a third wheel. He was already drifting away from us, still struggling with all this guilt.”

Your breath catches in your throat. That’s a familiar feeling. Guilt. And yet, you’d never noticed it in Reiner, apparently never got close enough to shine a flashlight into his darkest shadows. He’d always seemed so… sunshiney. You clearly hadn’t given him enough credit to dislodge the aura of jock frat boy he projects so brightly.

Soft dough squishes under your fingertips where you’ve resorted to playing with your food instead of eating it as Annie continues.

“And then he met you and fell in love so fast. I was so relieved, I mean, you and I were roommates and it was just perfect, right?” You look at her and see a flicker of hopefulness still there. “I thought maybe you two getting together would bring him back to us, that maybe we’d be alright after all. And at first, it did. But then you moved off campus for sophomore year and he started drifting away again, though he was at least anchored to you, this time. It scared me, it really did.”

She kicks the bottom of the railing lazily, as if to expend the sadness there rather than in her words. The first fat flakes of snow drift down around you. One dances away on your exhale.

“He’s so withdrawn, sometimes, in his own head, and I never know how to reach him there. I didn’t know if he had told you about Marcel, or anything, so I couldn’t go through you. I don’t… I didn’t know what to do, so I just... let it fester. That night, when we kissed, I hadn’t seen him physically for a month. It hurt.”

She looks at you imploringly, like the weight of everything she’s saying lies on deep hurt. You can relate to feeling as though there’s nothing but hurt and guilt and drifting.

“So I figured out where he was from his Snapchat story, abandoned my group project, and went over there to see him. I didn’t know what I’d say or do when I got there, just that I had to get him back, somehow. He was already plastered, you know how he gets, and he wasn’t listening to me, so I just… kissed him. I don’t know what I was thinking, I didn’t know you were there, I didn’t even know you saw until he called me the next day after you broke up with him to chew me out.

“So, long story short,” her voice breaks on a mournful, almost hysterical laugh, “I fucked up the three most important relationships to me in one night because I couldn’t use my words.” She wipes at wet cheeks, not looking at you. “So, um. Yeah, that’s the why, I guess. I don’t expect you to forgive me, or him, but I just… I needed you to know. It wasn’t like, this elaborate affair.”

You aren’t sure how to right your brain from the way it’s tilted off kilter. It’s so much, so different from what you’d built up in your head. There’s no conspiracy, no grand intention to break you.

Even with all this new information, what stupidly slips out first is, “Did he kiss you back?” You blanch, turn to her with wide eyes, “Sorry, that’s not exactly im—”

“No, it’s fine,” she meets your eyes. “He did kiss me back.”

“Oh. Okay, um…” you trail off, bite your lip. You don’t know what exactly to say. Your skin is tight with the urge to forgive her immediately and wholly, but logic holds you back. Now that you know the truth, you need time to heal and get some perspective. You straighten up from where you’d been slouching against the railing. “Okay. You’ve been honest, so I will be, too.”

She stands up fully as well, facing you with one hand on the railing.

“I don’t know how I feel right now,” you start. “I think I need some time and perspective. But, I… I can see now where I went wrong, too. I assumed the worst, didn’t let any communication happen.” You swallow down the lump in your throat threatening to choke your voice. “And, I wasn’t there for Rei like I should have been. I had no idea — no idea! — what he was going through.”

“Well, he didn’t exactly tell you—”

“And why is that?” Your voice breaks, squeaks with the question. “Did he feel like he couldn’t confide in me? Did I make it too much about me and my trauma? I wasn’t exactly shy about telling him my shit.” You take a long draw of coffee. “Anyway. I should probably talk to him, shouldn’t I?”

She nods. “He’d like that.”

You’re both quiet for a moment, watching the sparse snow flurry around you. Annie finally starts eating her donut.

“I’ve missed you,” you confess into the storm. “A lot.”

“I missed you, too.”

Your chest aches with both the cold air and the conflicting feelings of relief and regret.

“Why, uh… why didn’t you tell me all that stuff about Marcel?”

She leans on the railing again, takes a sip of coffee before answering. “I was still working through it. Still am, rather. I didn’t know how to bring it up, or that it was relevant.”

You hum, nodding. “I get that.”

There’s another silence, but it feels lighter, less charged. There are still questions bouncing around your mind, but you decide it’s better to process through them on your own rather than blurting out something stupid. Perspective.

“So,” she shoots you a look under blonde eyelashes, “what’s this about you being in love with Levi?”

“Aw, shit,” you laugh, leaning your elbows back on the railing and giving her an imploring look. “It really snuck up on me.”

“Is that so? Can’t say I’m shocked.” Her tone is dry, a little amused around the last bite of jelly donut. She wipes her fingers on her leggings and faces you. “And you think he rejected you.”

“Well, I…” you cringe, thinking back to last night. “He called me very beautiful.”

“Doesn’t sound like a rejection.”

“It was the way he said it! Like it physically hurt him to admit, and then he just ran out of the room,” you whine, scrubbing a hand down your face.

“I think that’s just his emotional constipation.” 

You look at her sharply, mouth agape, to catch her eyes dancing and the corner of her lip curling upward slightly. “Annie!”

“What? I’m right.” She finishes off her coffee, tilting back the cup to catch the last dregs of it. “He likes you, or he’s an idiot if he doesn’t.”

You narrow your eyes in doubt, mirroring her half-smile. “Hmm. We’ll see.”

“Yes,” she promises, crumpling up the pastry bag in her fist and stuffing it in her pocket. “We will.”

—

(read part 6 here)

[nightingaelic]

Fallout 4 companions respond to getting captured by Super Mutants (for optional added angst, maybe even getting turned into a super mutant). Strong not included for obvious reasons.

Ada: "Be advised: My guardian has equipped me with a tracking device in the event of my capture. You lack the privileges necessary to access their estimated time of arrival."

Ada is always matter-of-fact about her situation, even if her legs aren't functioning and she's squashed between two bags of body parts on the floor of an abandoned hospital. She's also patient, and content to wait until the sole survivor comes to retrieve her. In the meantime, she'll run escape scenario algorithms to determine the best way out of the building. Not affected by FEV for obvious reasons.

Cait: "Are you f***ing serious?! I'll tear your ears off with my bare hands and string them on a necklace! You don't know who you're messin' with, you green bastards!"

No one can match Cait in sheer viciousness when fighting to free themselves, but even she has her limits. The sole survivor would likely find her in a cage, hyperventilating and on the verge of tears. If the super mutants made the mistake of exposing her to FEV, she would tear the nest apart herself. Mutation would be another internal struggle for Cait, but I think she could successfully make peace with her new state of being if given enough time. A makeshift, giant baseball bat might help.

Codsworth: "Unhand me, you brutes! By God, the class of people I'm forced to associate with these days just keeps falling!"

Pre-war Codsworth is constantly offended by the super mutants' behavior, particularly their lack of housekeeping. He can't help bemoaning his situation for all to hear, something that would probably annoy the super mutants enough to bonk him on the dome until he shuts down. Some assembly required once the sole survivor catches up with him. Not affected by FEV for obvious reasons.

Curie: "While we are waiting, would any of you mind answering some questions for me about how you came to exist in this state? Ça vous dit?"

With a wide new world of oddities to study, Curie takes her abduction as yet another opportunity to learn. If nothing else, she can observe super mutants in their natural- or at least chosen- habitat. Prior to her synth transition, not affected by FEV for obvious reasons. Post-synth transition, however, I think Curie would take the mutation as an opportunity to study the effects that turn a person into a super mutant. I don't think she would lose her bubbly personality, similar to the way Lily the nightkin retained some of her old sense of self.

Danse: "You may have the upper hand today, but you and the other freaks of nature are fighting a losing battle." [spits]

Having lost the most to super mutants in the past, Danse fights his captors until he is completely spent. In fact, the sole survivor would have to practically carry the man home for a lengthy recovery, something his suit of power armor would definitely help with. Mutation into a super mutant is one of Danse's worst nightmares, and if exposed to FEV, he would beg the sole survivor to show him the same mercy he once showed Cutler.

Deacon: "Oh yeah, this reminds me of that summer I spent camping out on the National Mall. You even look familiar. Know anyone by the name of Uncle Leo?"

Like in every tight spot he's ever been in, Deacon masks his stress level with quick wits and quicker retorts. Most likely to slip his confines, let the sole survivor fight their way to the heart of the nest, then reveal he was free the whole time and they needn't have bothered. If exposed to FEV, Deacon would probably panic and enlist the sole survivor's help in searching for a cure, positive that a mutated countenance would irreparably damage his ability to help the Railroad. Then again, he might see it as a "new look" and use it to his advantage for a bit.

Dogmeat: [snarling]

Any super mutants that get their hands on Dogmeat are highly likely to lose fingers. Still, there's not much the canine can do if he's put in a cage, other than bark and wait for rescue. While FEV leaves many dogs as aggressive shells of their former selves, I think Dogmeat would be largely okay with his new green-and-bulky form and would still happily guard settlements and follow the sole survivor around, not unlike Gracie from Far Harbor.

Hancock: "Whoa, whoa relax. I've got time to hang out for a bit, no need to get all worked up. Don't stain the coat, I doubt you can cough up the caps to get it cleaned."

Of all the companions, Hancock is the most unbothered by becoming a super mutant captive. It's just another wasteland adventure, albeit one where the opposing cast of characters are all at least two feet taller than him. He might earn some bumps and bruises for being unable to keep his smart mouth shut, but he'll just bide his time until he spots an opening to wreak havoc and escape, or until the sole survivor comes along to wiggle him out. Not affected by FEV for obvious reasons.

MacCready: "You know, I'm getting real sick of you green lunatics. Spent almost a decade living next door to some of your cousins, and they knew enough not to mess with me."

Upon capture, MacCready would roll his eyes and accept that he's going to have to wait for some help. He'd get more desperate the longer his wait went on though, envisioning a world where Duncan lost his dad without getting to say goodbye. Mutation wouldn't necessarily dampen his spirits at first: After all, if anyone can find a cure, it's the sole survivor.

Valentine: "Not exactly a group of masterminds, are you?"

At this point, Nick is used to getting abducted and locked up by just about every group in the Commonwealth. He knows super mutants well enough to know they don't listen to reason, but he can't resist getting in a jab or two about how he's far from edible. Not affected by FEV for obvious reasons.

Piper: "So, uh, what's say I write up a column about how super mutants are seriously misunderstood creatures and we'll call it even? No?"

Piper might have similar levels of confidence as Deacon, but hers are much more likely to waver when faced with possible death by ingestion. Her quips would be fewer and more nervous until the sole survivor arrived, at which point she would put her game face back on and cheer her rescuer along. If exposed to FEV, she would beg the sole survivor to help her find a cure for Nat's sake, and eventually weasel the information about Virgil out of them.

Preston: "I didn't need to get up close to know why you're called 'uglies,' but here we are."

While terrified at what the super mutants might do to him, Preston is the most level-headed when captured. He's already great under pressure in battle, and he's used to setting his own fears aside to find solutions for his woes. Most likely to have more people coming to his rescue than the sole survivor alone, due to his role with the Minutemen. If exposed to FEV, Preston would likely accept his fate with dignity, and make the sole survivor promise to dispatch him if he turns violent. I don't think he would, though, and the Minutemen would probably be more accepting of a super mutant officer than most.

X6-88: "I can afford to wait for field assistance, mutant. They will not make the mistakes I did."

X6-88 accepts his predicament calmly, like he accepts everything that happens to him. If unable to free himself, he will patiently wait for the Institute help he knows is coming, even if it's just the sole survivor with a pipe pistol. Regarding FEV mutation, turning into a super mutant might be the straw that breaks the camel's back for X6-88. In the Institute's eyes, the Courser is now hideous and no longer viable in the field: In X6-88's opinion, though, he is even stronger and more dangerous than he was before. I could see him finally choosing to desert his post out of a growing sense of self-preservation once transformed.

BONUS!

Gage: "Well look who's suffering from delusions of adequacy! I'd call you f***ers dumb as rocks, but at least a rock can hold a door open."

Porter Gage is great at heckling, and just good enough that he toes the line right up to where super mutants would start to understand he's insulting them. The sole survivor would likely find a gaggle of them around his confinement space, convinced he's complimenting them when he's actually being very rude. Breaking him out gives him the biggest smile. Becoming mutated himself might actually benefit Gage in the long run, as the raiders he used to be wary of would instead find themselves newly-wary of the Overboss' right-hand man.

Longfellow: "Too bad you aren't one of the more reasonable ones. Might've saved your skin."

Longfellow treats his own capture with a sense of humor, acknowledging that he's not as young as he once was and might need help now and then. Chuckles the whole time the sole survivor is fighting their way to him, and grateful upon release. If turned into a super mutant, he'd shrug, accept his fate, and ask to be escorted to live with his friend Erickson up near Far Harbor.

Maxson: "I welcome the day you and your kind meet total destruction."

If Danse is angry about being captured by his sworn enemies, Maxson is seething. Kidnapping a Brotherhood Elder is something that shouldn't even be possible in his eyes, let alone by super mutants. Once freed, he would do his best to erase the nest from the earth: Fire, missiles, tactical nukes if necessary. Also like Danse, Maxson would order the sole survivor to mercifully dispatch him if he were mutated. Additionally, he'd have them destroy any evidence of his exposure to FEV, and simply turn in his holotags with the news that he had perished in the line of duty.

Desdemona: [livid silence]

Plunks herself down, lights a cigarette if her hands are free, and waits. Eventually, the sole survivor or Glory will turn up, and she'll give them one, lingering look of disappointment before vanishing into the Commonwealth ruins. Least likely to get captured in the first place. If mutated, she would reassume her job as leader of the Railroad with no comment, and everyone else would know better than to ask.

[nemesis-is-my-middle-name]

“Move out of my way before I make you” with Lewis and anyone else 👀

(THIS TOOK SO LONG ASHKSJSHJ I'M SORRY MY MUSE JUST DECIDED TODAY WAS THE DAY)

Lewis really didn't like using his size to his advantage. He never had, and after he died... seeing the surprise, the fear in people's eyes brought back... bad memories. With time and practice, he'd gotten back out of the early-adulthood habit of hunching over and drawing in his shoulders to look smaller, but he still felt uncomfortable whenever he was reminded just how much he towered over others.

For this, though, he decided to make an exception.

He could hear Vivi quietly swearing from the other side of the cramped room. She's kneeling next to Arthur, who seems barely conscious, and the sight makes Lewis's heart twist. He wants- he needs- to be over there, to make sure they're both okay- but something is stopping him.

He turns his attention back to the ghost standing between him and his partners. They're not much smaller than he is, their form dissolving into half-transparent tatters below the waist, and they have a lower jaw that forms two sets of vicious, needle-sharp fangs. The glow of their magic is strong, the power they stole from Arthur manifesting in wisps of bright smoke that dance around their shoulders.

Lewis exhales a long breath he doesn't need, and feels his face warm up as his eyes flash suddenly brighter. He lets his feet leave the ground, hovering a few inches above it instead, and squares his shoulders, turning his head up to look down his nose at the ghost. He sees their expression shift – from confident hostility to sudden confusion and fright – and an odd mix of regret and satisfaction swirls in his chest.

"Move out of my way," he growls, his voice sweeping like static over the other ghost, who visibly shivers, "before I make you."

Their teeth clack once, and they shrink back a little further. He can see them debating between fighting for the prize they've caught and running from a stronger spirit. Their self-preservation wins out eventually, and they turn and flee, disappearing through a wall.

He'll have to chase them down later, but for now – in a flash he's across the room, kneeling on Arthur's other side. Vivi sees him and leans back, letting him scoop up Arthur without discussion.

His breath is coming in short, shallow pants, and his skin is freezing to the touch but there's a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead. Lewis can feel the flicker of his soul in response to the beat of his own, so weak as to be nearly undetectable.

"He's been really in and out," he vaguely hears Vivi say, "are you sure you can-?"

He doesn't answer – he doesn't have time to consider the question of whether he can. Instead, he just pulls Arthur a little closer and reaches out to that weak flicker of life, offering to feed the tiny flame.

Giving, as opposed to taking, power, always feels unnatural. If he'll ever get used to this, it'll be a long time in the future – not that he particularly wants to do this any more than he has to. But he pushes past the discomfort of freely giving away what passes as his life. It's easier if he visualizes them as a pair of vessels, trying to even out – neither drained or overflowing. With the distant part of him that's still paying attention to the physical world, he feels Arthur's heart stop rabbiting quite so fast, and his breathing even out.

When he opens his eyes again, Arthur's flicker open for a moment as well. Whatever worry, and whatever residual discomfort he had over scaring the ghost off, starts to fade when he sees his expression. Not a hint of fear or surprise, even despite the fact that he's still wearing his skull face instead of his human one. Instead he cracks a vague grin and laughs a little, weak and hoarse as it is.

"Shit, I, uh. Sorry for- f-f-for... f' scaring you."

Lewis just cups the back of his neck and gently bonks their foreheads together, unable to decide between yeah, stop doing that and I'm sorry I let it get to you.

Arthur's hand, still colder than it should be, finds his face, and he gently runs his thumb over his cheekbone. "'m fine. Dork."

They sit in silence for a moment, and then they're interrupted by Vivi's exaggerated sigh. "So, if you two are done making out in public, we do still have that ghost to deal with...?"

Neither of them are particularly bothered by her friendly jab, laughing and swatting at her as they get up.

[marvelobsessedteenager]

All The Hurt - Chapter 3

Pairing: Peter Parker x fem!reader

Warnings: ANGST, Peter was an ass, reader is a hurt and petty bitch, fluff to make up for the angst, curse words, lots of “coincidences”, horrible description of death and feelings lmfao I’m sorry

Word Count: 4.5k

A/N: dis a long one HAHAH

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

You groggily twisted in your bed as you tried to find the nagging nuisance that interrupted your peaceful slumber that barely lasted five hours. Your vision slowly focused as you rubbed your eyes vigorously, still searching for that damned alarm clock that you couldn’t seem to find.

“For fuck’s sake,” you grumbled, turning on the lamp beside your bed and hissing at the sharp light that was out to attack your pupils. The alarm clock, which somehow made its way onto the floor, read 7:00 AM, September 14th.

You scratched the side of your head, wondering why on earth your past self decided to wake you up this early on a random day.

Until it clicked.

September 14th. The Academic Decathlon competition that was being held in D.C. - the one your team had been preparing for months on end.

With all the ruckus that’s happened in the past few months, the competition was filed under the “unimportant events” cabinet in your mind. Truthfully, you didn’t really want to go. The only reason you were in decathlon was because you and Peter had a competition going to see who could get into as many after-school activities as possible while keeping their grades up. Plus, he said your intelligence would be an asset to the team.

It was stupid, really, but you both found joy in watching the other succeed, and at the time, Peter thought it’d be a push for you considering you were demotivated to study.

After he left you, you quit everything else besides decathlon. When you tried to, they told you you weren’t allowed to due to your name already being written down as one of the team’s members. You slacked off and often avoided going to the after-school practice altogether, hence why you forgot about it.

However, right now, it wasn’t a burden you had to bear. You were grateful for the upcoming distraction, and you thanked God Peter was somehow able to spontaneously quit the team the other day, the 'Stark Internship' granting him access to do so. Luckily for you, that meant some form of escape without having to be around him.

You felt yourself become lighter already, and you quickly got ready for the fast-approaching competition.

Once found your team waiting by the bus, you were greeted by a disoriented-looking Flash, making you giggle as you approached him while giving everyone you passed by a smile. “You look like shit.” You commented when you reached him at the back of the lengthy bus.

“I feel like it,” he groaned, his forehead pressing into the side of the vehicle, “I’m so not a morning person.”

You rolled your eyes and handed him the iced coffee you bought for him on the way, “I know, that’s why I got you this.” You said, shaking the beverage and holding it out for him, "Drink up, Eugene. We got people to beat. And before you ask, yes it has almond milk in it.”

He lifted his head and looked at the coffee in surprise, then back at you, “You’re a lifesaver.” He said, engulfing you in a hug so suddenly you had to hold onto the side of the bus to keep you both from falling back.

You teasingly shook your head and patted him on the back, “I know, I know. I’m amazing.”

“I don’t disagree.” He said, pulling back and taking the coffee from your hands with a small ’thank you.'

You stared at him as he slurped on his drink and sighed in bliss, and wondered what it would be like if he treated everyone the way he treated you.

You knew of his past and understood why his actions came from a place of hurt and nothing more. During these past few months, Flash helped you open your eyes and made you more understanding of people. Especially those who tried to cover up their pain by pushing others away in self-preservation, in fear of showing others who they truly were because they were afraid of being hurt, taken advantage of, or even worse, mocked for it.

At the simple gesture of getting him coffee, he seemed shocked that you even remembered his order, let alone got him something. Your empathetic side was much stronger than you thought it’d be, you realized, your heart aching for the misunderstood boy who stood in front of you.

“What?” Flash inquired with furrowed eyebrows, capturing the metal straw once more (because plastic ain’t it).

You were about to make a joke about how you were staring at him to process how ugly he was when Abe gleefully yelled, “Hey, it’s Peter!” And pointed ahead of him.

You swore your heart stopped for a moment, the voice in your head repeating the word ‘no'.

Your eyes widened as you slowly turned around in astonishment to find that, yes, it really was Peter, in the flesh.

And he’s asking to rejoin the team, but you were still caught up in his presence.

And how much you hated it.

Of course he showed up. Last fucking minute.

Boiling anger shot up to your throat and escaped through your mouth with a growl, “No, no way,” you walked towards him, eyes burning with rage as he backed up, “You can’t just quit, make a grand last minute entrance and be welcomed back.”

Of course, he was welcomed back by all but you and Flash, but that didn’t make a difference to anyone else no matter how many times you whined and objected.

“One more smart team member couldn’t hurt,” Mr. Harrington said.

And that’s how he ended up taking his seat about two rows behind yours, as you and Flash took your designated spots in the front. All the memories of him being Spider-Man fogged up your brain like you couldn’t see anything but him in the suit. It was infuriating how just him being there seemed to fuck with you.

What really pushed you to the edge was that you caught him looking at you. And not just stealing glimpses, no, you mean full-on gawking.

The audacity, you thought, exhaling loudly through your nose.

You found it hard to answer Liz’s training questions correctly. How could you? You were consciously aware of his presence, and consciously aware that he could be hearing your thundering heart if he concentrated enough.

Okay, so you may have done a little bit of research about him and watched a couple of his one minute interviews with reporters. None of them explained how he got said powers, but in one he told the interviewer all his senses were far, far more advanced than normal humans.

You wondered if he ever got a sensory overload.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the ring of a bell and his answer that followed, his voice echoing in your head. When you answered incorrectly for the second time, you decided to give it a rest. You plugged in your earbuds, raised the volume as high as it would go, and wished you could tune out your thoughts like you did to the world.

You were already awake when you reached your destination. While the rest of the students were in awe of how big it was, you and Flash weren’t.

Once all rooms were assigned, Peter and Ned immediately dashed to theirs without waiting to hear Liz’s plans to "act rebellious as a group". Normally, that wouldn’t raise any suspicions, but now that you knew about Peter’s little secret, you were skeptical. They must be doing something related to Spider-Man.

You ignored the dull pain in your chest.

And as much as you wanted to find out, you were drained. Thinking had seemed to take up most of your energy, which was something you needed in order to win. So, you grabbed your spare key card to the room you shared with Sally Avril and searched the second floor for Room 249 together.

Sally and you weren’t exactly friends, but you talked a few times and said hello to each other via a nod when you passed each other in the hallways. She agreed to be your science partner for this quarter’s project, and you knew that she was incredibly bright for her age, so you didn’t mind rooming with her for a while.

When the both of you were out of breath and complaining about your backs aching from your heavy backpacks, you thankfully found your room.

And, what do you know? It was exactly across the fucking hall from Peter’s.

You annoyingly rolled your eyes and hastily swiped your card on the card reader, pushing the door with your foot and throwing your backpack onto the bed before flopping on it with a groan, your tiredness leaving you and allowing anger to fuel you instead.

“You okay?” Sally asked, always the sweetheart, shutting the door and placing her own backpack on the bed, taking her possessions out.

“Just peachy,” you sarcastically mumbled, your face squished between the pillows. You could only describe their scent as hotel rooms, but they were cool enough to help put out a little bit of the fire that you still had within you. You took a deep breath and pushed yourself up, leaning on your elbows, “I’m gonna go check the gym out.”

A while back, you learned how to manage your anger by using it to your advantage. The excess adrenaline helped pump your energy and allowed you to finish your workout faster, which in turn made you stronger and defused the storm within you. You took your gym clothes to the bathroom and changed before yelling out a goodbye to Sally and exiting your room.

As you shut the door behind you, you looked up in time to make eye contact with Peter, who stood behind his glass window and froze upon meeting your eyes. You scoffed and turned away, and he sighed and continued closing the curtains to his room, obstructing anyone from seeing him remove the tracker from his suit.

When the clock struck 10 pm, you heard a secret knock that meant Liz was here to take your asses to sneak into the pool as a group. You tiredly tied your robe around your body as Sally opened the door, squealing and giving Liz a hug. The group was buzzing with excitement, and you weren’t 100% sure of it, but you were certain this was the most rebellious thing they’ve ever done.

It was adorable how innocent they were.

While the students ran down the hall, you slowed your pace down to walk beside Flash, who waited for you at the end of the line they formed and handed you a snickers bar - your absolute favorite.

“Aw,” you cooed, finger tapping his nose, "Is this a thank you for the coffee this morning?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Flash scrunched his nose and flicked your hand away.

“What's up with you lately?” You asked, peeling away at the bar’s wrapper and taking a large bite, “You’ve been so touchy and caring. I mean, you’ve given me more hugs this week than you have in your entire life.”

Flash’s ears turned red as he pursed his lips and looked down at his bare feet, “I’m not being touchy.”

You stopped and turned to face him with a tilted head and cocked eyebrow. He sighed, “You almost died, Y/n,” he admitted with a small voice, tracing all your scars with his eyes, "I don’t know, I just...I don’t want to lose you, you know? It was scary.”

Your demeanor softened and you gave him a gentle smile. Flash wasn’t one to open up and express his feelings properly, but it warmed your heart that he tried to with you. You wrapped your arms around him once more, calmly rubbing his back, “I don’t wanna lose you, either.”

He snorted and pulled back, jabbing your side and making you squeal, “Yeah, who wouldn’t?”

You jokingly pushed at his shoulders, “I could give you a fucking list.”

The two of you laughed in the hallway as you looked up to see that you were almost at Peter’s door, where he stood there talking to Liz alone. Or, more accurately, both of them exchanging love eyes that made them fumble with their words and made a visible blush rise to their cheeks.

You rolled your eyes with disgust and gagged in revulsion while your heart clenched so hard you had to put a hand on your chest to make sure it was still beating.

And boy, was it beating, all right.

Flash was quick to notice your actions and tried to get them to separate, cupping his hands over his mouth, “Yo, loser,” he called out, making Peter turn, “Stay here. I’m sure Iron-Man is gonna need your help rescuing kittens that are stuck on trees.”

You let out a chuckle and grabbed Liz by her arm when you got close enough, “Come on, don’t waste your time with him. He’s got civil duties to get to.” You threw a deadly glance at him and dragged Liz with you to the pool, failing to notice Peter’s crest-fallen face.

Who cares about him, though? You were here to win a competition and get the trophy - maybe that’ll prove to your dad that you’re worth something, and if that fails, it’s still pretty cool to have accomplished something.

You ended up teaming up with Abe and successfully pushing Flash into the pool, high-fiving Abe before he canon-balled in himself. You giggled, watching your teammates gesture you to come in, but you shook your head and took a seat in one of the chairs.

“Oh, come on, Y/n. Just come in for a minute.”  

“I’m not a swimmer, Flash. I’ll be here, just not in there.”

Your body was aching from the lack of sleep and constant moving around. Plus, you really weren’t much of a swimmer. You quietly took a seat beside MJ as she read a book you once read as well, the chair making a screeching sound that made you cringe and alerted MJ of your presence.

“Can I help you with something?” She asked, flipping to the next page and reading on, but somehow she saw you throw a glance at her.

“Nah,” you crossed your arms and leaned back, watching as Liz got splashed with water by both Cindy and Abe, who then proceeded to dunk Flash’s head in the water and high-fived, “just recognized the book, s’all.”

She hummed and nodded, and you saw her peek up at you from the corner of your eye, “Good taste. I’d like you if you weren’t a bully.”

“Guess you’ll never like me, then.” You replied, monotony lacing your voice, immediately putting an end to the conversation that was only beginning to bloom. You knew she was going to transform it into another ‘what you’re doing isn’t right’ lecture, but you’ve heard enough of it from Jane.

A tense silence settled between you two as her words settled in your mind. A bully. That’s exactly what you were seen as. You guessed people don’t exactly see what caused the change in behavior, but they see the change itself.

You placed the back of your head against the concrete wall and stared up, looking through the built in glass that allowed the moon’s light to bleed into the pool, fully brightening it up until the shadow of a figure covered the view. Him.

Him clad in his latex suit with a backpack on, hands holding the mask that would hide his identity from the rest of the world.

You saw him staring at her.

You felt your heart fall to the pit of your stomach, where it seemed to only cause a burning sensation - jealousy. You were looking at him while he was too busy looking at someone else, and that seemed to have followed you your entire life, even when you weren’t friends.

You gulped and turned away before you ever saw his line of vision move over to you, wondering and wondering.

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

The next morning, you stood in front of Flash’s room with your hands on his shoulders as you tried to calm him down.

“Holy shit. Holy shit, I can’t do this, Y/n,” He said, rubbing his forehead. His shoulders were rising and falling at a quick pace beneath your palms as he took shallow breaths, nerves practically spewing out of him.

Who knew Flash was a worry wort?

“Okay, Flash, listen to me,” you grabbed his face and tilted it towards you so you could look him in the eye, “This competition is just a competition. It doesn’t prove your worth to anyone.” That’s not what you thought of yesterday, "Your grades and results don’t determine how smart you are, all right? They’re just numbers and letters, and those don’t make up who you are. And besides,” you gestured to the group of people that were across the hall knocking on Peter and Ned’s door, “if you’re so worried, we’ve got a whole bunch of smart-asses who’ll make up for your stupidity.”

You gave him a teasing smile and relaxed when he shook his head with a chuckle.

“You’ve got this, Eugene.”

He took a deep breath and nodded his head in affirmation, “Yeah. Yeah, I’ve got this."

“Attaboy! That’s the spirit!” You said, punching him in the shoulder and laughing when he held his arm in pain.

The concoction from the other side of the hall seemed to have risen above your laughter, making you and Flash exchange a look before running over.

“What’s going on?” Flash asked, causing everyone to turn.

“The boys won’t come out, and if they don’t we’ll be late,” Liz answered, checking the watch on her wrist and tugging the ends of her ponytail stressfully.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” You mumbled, rolling your eyes and elbowing your way through the crowd until you reached the door.

“Ned! Parker! Get the fuck out of this room or so help me God I will fucking break the door down!” You yelled, repeatedly slamming your fist on the door as it shook from the force.

To your surprise, the door immediately swung back to reveal a sweaty Ned and a missing Peter. Before he was going to say something, you asked, “Where is he?”

Ned stood there like a gaping fish, opening and closing his mouth with broken words falling out, “He..uh, he..won’t be able to make it?”

“He left?”

Ned took a shaky breath in and toyed with the hem of his shirt, “M-maybe..”

Typical Peter. Running away when he was needed.

“Of course he did,” you pinched the bridge of your nose then turned to Liz, “we’re just gonna have to leave without him.” You shrugged, watching as Liz’s shoulders deflated.

She looked mad, worried, and at the same time disappointed. You guessed it had something to do with whatever they were talking about yesterday.

You also guessed he left due to something that had to do with Spider-Man, but you didn’t have enough evidence to prove it to yourself. Regardless of how you wanted to feel, you started getting rather distressed. You wondered if he left after seeing you guys in the pool, where he was, if he was all right, why he hasn’t come back - all questions that could be answered by Ned, you realized. But you didn’t want to risk it.

So, you made your way to the competition with murmuring nerves and trembling hands. You blamed it on the competition, but you knew deep down that it was Peter’s absence that was troubling you.

Either way, you thanked God for MJ’s intelligence that won you the competition.

Hugs were being exchanged all around and pride flowed between your teammates as a golden trophy was handed to your team.

To celebrate, you made your way to the Washington Monument, where you’d be given a boring tour and promised an 'unforgettable view.’ However, there was a tugging feeling in your stomach as Flash asked Mr. Harrington if he could tell Peter that he was expelled. He still hasn’t shown up. Your mind raced with possibilities, and only got worse as the monument's elevator ascended.

Until it abruptly stopped and aggressively shook in its place, causing panic to spread among your group as dust fell upon everyone from the hole that seemed to have appeared above you, covering you from head to toe. Smoke began to fill the elevator’s confined space and-

And this was starting to feel like Delmar’s all over again.

You were frightened, hands shaking and tears welling up in your eyes as oxygen barely made its way into your lungs only to come out again. Your eyes were glued to the hole in the elevator’s roof, as if it’d somehow close up again if you stared at it long enough. It felt as if you were looking at the inside of one’s body - it was a sight you were never meant to see, and now, here you were, seeing it. You saw the wires and pulleys that kept the elevator in its place, and you couldn’t describe how wrong it was.

“Okay, guys, I know that was scary but our safety systems are working. We’re very safe in here.” The lady assured in the most tedious way possible. It was like you weren’t about to meet death himself. Like everything was okay.

It wasn’t.

“No, lady! No, we’re clearly not!” You yelled as you collapsed to the floor, clutching your head and rocking back and forth.

“Okay, Y/n, breathe, breathe.” Mr. Harrington crouched down to your level, inhaling and exhaling slowly as if that’d help you. You could hardly focus on anything but the fact that you felt like you were going to die.

Death seemed to chase you wherever you went, like you were cursed, and now these people were going to go down with you, with no superhero to come swooping in because you didn’t know where he was.

Oh my God, why is this happening?

Flash hastily looked around and pointed to a small opening on the side of the elevator, “We can open that! We can open that and get out through there!” He said, and the others got to work right away.

Ned carried the lady on his shoulders as she successfully pushed it open, allowing new air to come through, the group taking a large, collective inhale. Flash kneeled down beside you, and rubbed your back, promising you everything will be okay, which calmed you down enough to stand up.

You were still scared, hands were still shaking, but you knew you had to put others before you. So you concealed them from everyone’s view, and helped your teammates safely climb out to where a group of security guys was waiting to pull them out.

Cindy went up first, then Abe, Sally, and the dude with glasses you could never remember the name of, until you, Flash, Mr. Harrington, Liz, and Ned remained.

They all suggested you go first, but you refused and told them you’d be fine with assisting them. Flash was up next.

The minute he jumped off the elevator’s surface to grab ahold of the security guard’s hand, the wires which held the elevator in its place snapped and you began your fast descend, screaming into oblivion as your heart rattled inside your ribcage.

A strong force stopped the elevator from falling further for a second before it started falling again, not giving you enough time to catch your breath. It hit a large metal ground, hard, and that seemed to stop it and made you fall on your knees and bust the rest of the glass.

You breathed harshly, thinking it was over, basking in sweet relief until Spider-Man fell from the hole into the elevator and pushed it down even further, prompting the elevator to plunge at an even faster rate, and both Liz and Ned to let out an ear-deafening scream that made its way to your stomach, twisting and turning it while your knuckles turned white from the death grip you had on the railing.

There's your second chance at death, because apparently, one time wasn’t enough.

With his quick thinking, though, Spider-Man raised his arm and shot his web to the ceiling of the building, holding on as he planted his legs on the corner of the elevator, and pulling as it hung in the air.

He looked around the elevator, pausing for a second on your curled up body, before clearing his throat, “Hey, how you doin’?” He said, thickening his New York accent, “don’t worry about it, I got you.”

Ned - like he wasn’t about to fucking die - began fangirling over his best friend as he yelled out multiple 'yes's and bounced up and down, making the elevator’s wheels creak, threatening to fall once again.

"Hey, hey, hey, big guy! Quit movin’ around!” Spider-Man scolded Ned, his voice returning back to normal as he tugged on the web to slowly pull the lift up.

Your insides were still flipped and in all the wrong places, mind frozen as you sat on the ground, still rattled, with tears pushing hard against your waterline. Your breathing was loud and labored, which caught Liz’s attention.

“Hey,” she sat down beside you, voice husky, still half dazed herself, “we’re gonna be okay.” She said, almost as if she was trying to convince herself with her words, "We’re safe now.”

She paused for a moment, "I know what happened to you at Delmar’s-“ You saw Spider-Man’s head swerve towards the both of you for a second as you inhaled sharply. “-but you’re okay. We’re all going to be fine.”

You tilted your head towards her, tracing over her messed up hair and flushed cheeks, dirt painting her face but a small, hopeful smile sat on her lips. You managed to give her a nod and a squeeze of her hand in acknowledgment. Though it did nothing to calm you down, you were still grateful for her sincerity and effort in trying to do so.

“All right, everyone out.” Spider-Man demanded once you reached the level where the security guards were waiting. His grunting made it sound like he didn’t have as much time as he needed, and every person made their way out slowly but carefully.

You shakily stood on your legs, waiting for everyone to get out and counting down until it was your turn. Three, Ned was out first. Two, Mr. Harrington made it to the other side. One, Liz was safely out as she looked back at you and stretched her arm, palm open and awaiting your own.

You quickly skidded across the floor, and just as your skin touched hers, the web broke into two with a splick sound.

And for the next second you were falling to your death, all on your own.

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Tags: @peachescream06

[softer-ua]

i can't be the only one who wants izuku to get fucking pissed at his situation, at all might, start questioning what the fuck is going on with OFA.

because if you're going to trust a fifteen year old with something like OFA and bind them to the life of a symbol, you do not get to withhold information. deku was not told he'd be dealing with an enemy like AFO when he got the quirk, nor was he told that basically its whole point was not fighting some vague concept of evil, but fighting a very tangible very dangerous villain. he wasn't told that up until all might, inheriting this power was guaranteed suicide, and even after all might you only have a vague chance of survival. to be offered such a life altering "gift", Izuku should have been warned of everything. from the start. and if not then then from the very moment izuku started seeing vestiges, or at least when AFO resurfaced. WHY IN GOD'S NAME WOULD YOU HIDE ANY, ANY BIT OF INFORMATION ON A QUIRK THAT IMPORTANT?????

no because, if you look at it cynically, All Might took this kid who had nothing and who looked up to him as effective god. He took this kid who he knew had no sense of no self-care or self-preservation. This extremely reckless kid who he saw putting his life at risk three times (sludge v1, hanging on to AM as he jumped, sludge v Katsuki) within 24 hours. He picked this kid who he knew would give everything (because Izuku had "nothing", and therefore nothing to lose) and "gifted" him with a ticking time bomb. Of course Izuku is willing to break himself if it means using OFA to max potential. So much of his self-worth is based on OFA. He's said time and time again he isn't sure if he deserves it, that it's a borrowed power. If you've taken this kid and given him everything practically overnight, of course he'll go to self-destructive lengths to prove himself worthy of it. Who'd want to go back to being nothing after all?

And this is a logical conclusion. Someone like Izuku, someone like All Might probably used to be in his youth and still kind of is, they're perfect to be put on this kind suicide mission. They're a perfect vessel. Sure they're heroic and brave and selfless, but most importantly they're willing to die for the cause. OFA the quirk knows this. Literally two seconds after Katsuki sacrifices himself telling Deku not to do shit alone, Deku renders said sacrifice useless by doing exactly what Katsuki warned him not to😭 And the quirk and vestiges encourage him. They don't give a shit about repercussions and Deku's chronic pain or possible arm paralysis. They just want to beat AFO. You go son you break those arms 🤠

Doesn't it all feel a little bit exploitative?

Look at it like this. A kid is born with no power. This kid wants to be great, but the world says he can't. He meets his hero, and the hero says he can't either. Then the kid acts heroic, but reckless. The hero sees an opening. This kid is good and doesn't care one bit about his well-being? Jackpot! He offers the kid a deal. Great power, an extraordinary gift at surface layer. But one with so many more hidden strings attached that hurt and break and haunt the kid, that he was never warned about or taught how to deal with. But he can always give it to someone else! Can he, really? Can he go back to being nothing? With a personality like his, well nope. And that's why you pick the overly selfless reckless ones. The ones that will feel indebted to you to a ridiculous degree.

Isn't it like dare I say... like a deal with the devil?

As we progress more and more into the lore of AFO and OFA, I can really see why Katsuki's started to view it as a cursed power. And with how wildly different from expectations (at least mine) + far more nuanced the Todofam drama has revealed itself to be compared to what it seemed upon first intro, I'm inclined to believe there's more to the OFA story than clean cut, young bro good guy vs mean big bro oppression.

TL;DR - All Might is the metaphorical devil jr who gave Izuku a passed down deal, and neither he nor broccoli boy read the fine print.

Bakugo’s ghost sent me this ask 💀

Lol but seriously, these are all excellent points and I’ve been sitting on this ask until I had time to answer it because you’re absolutely goddamn right

This shit is explotive af, and I’ve got a suspicion as to why

I don’t think Deku was a random choice, there’s a layer of fate/mystic woven into the bnha world that gets over looked.

Sir had insane fortune telling abilities that were never once wrong about anything except when it came to the 2 OFA users fates. Deku even specifically says he’ll smash any fate in his way, and I think on some level he knows he can because he has a different destiny.

The vestiges break him from Shinsos hold, meaning the can have some level of control over Dekus body. You think AM noticed every time something like that happened? AM didn’t even notice Bakugo internalizing all the blame for his retirement even after watching his mom force him to apologize for it??

“I keep forgetting that your still a child” AM, sir, this is the third time you’ve admitted out loud that you were just gonna let Bakugo suffer his own fate 💀 please stop indicting yourself and at least pretend you care about Bakugo outside his relationship to Deku jfc

Also what are the chances you get nine random holders and none of them turn out to be corrupt or at least too self serving to die for the cause??? Slimmer than the pages bnha is printed on.

There’s something pulling some strings here, and I think it’s the true power of First users quirk.

What would be the point of transferring a quirk if that’s it’s only power?

What would be the point of this quirk being essentially password locked?

What would be the point of this quirk being able to forced on to someone?

There’ wouldn’t be any.

But what if that’s not what the quirk is?

What if the quirk is actually passing something along, and that’s why it’s dna based, it’s the transfer of an integral part of them.

Something that would change a person if forced on them but would possibly eradicate someone if stolen. Something like a souls desire? That could be a dangerous thing to give to someone else especially if it’s something they didn’t want, now they suddenly have to?

Then you give this quirk a strength enhancing quirk?

Now it’s got some juice, how much stronger did it get? Can it sense others with a similar goal, can it make its host gravitate towards those people?

Is the firsts quirk purposely finding exploitable heros, like Nana AM and Deku. All people who were/are willing to give up everything for the cause. How much of the first is in there, how much sentient power does this quirk have?

We know that Nana gave up her family, her child, for the cause. AM never bothered cultivating a family and pushed away Sir and anyone else who is anti him dying, and now we’re seeing Deku do the same.

Deku who had no friends to begin with, a dad who’s out of the picture, and an already slightly strained relationship with his mom?

Is this quirk capable of learning? Does it know that having people you care about slows you down from sacrificing yourself?

Does this quirk compound with the other users goals make the drive stronger each time?

Idk but there’s a glimmer of hope that Deku isn’t doomed to be a glorified meat puppet, and it exists in the form of Kacchan.

No one else had someone so deeply rooted to them, who could fight right along side them. Bakugo is an outlier in this story, almost the exact opposite kind of hero OFA wants, his connection to Deku breaks the cycle.

Deku would never give up on Katsuki, and even if he tried Endeavor will start coughing up ice cubes before Bakugo lets him. He couldn’t leave Deku alone when he was convinced he hated him, there’s no way he’d do it now.

Dekus story will be different from the other users that’s for sure.

[snaxpo]

fuck it bugsnax/s4m au notes

alternate title: i’m at that point in liking something where i have to combine it with everything else i’ve liked previously and today i’m making that everyone else’s problem. 

- base premise is a lil different! instead of being a journalist who was invited personally to the island by the expedition leader, you (or FK if you consider them a separate character from the player) are tasked with investigating the habitat, a budding commune on snaktooth island that may or may not be devolving into a cult. there’s just one teeny tiny problem - the commune’s leader and also your main suspect, boris habit, has been missing for weeks by the time you arrive. 

- now it’s a matter of gaining the inhabitants’ trust/getting them to come back to the habitat while hunting and subduing the bugsnax, who seem increasingly eager to launch themselves at inhabitants at quite literally dangerous speeds, in a battle of wits to keep your newfound companions fed while documenting the strange creatures. and of course, the question of just what happened to boris habit still lingers in the air. think like... talentless nana where the protag pretends to be all cute and unassuming (complete with flower motifs!) but really they’re there on Super Secret Spy Business. but of course there’s less murder. 

- oddly the bugsnax seem to have only become more aggressive after his disappearance. i’m sure it’s nothing. 

- yes everyone is still a grumpus

- there isn’t really an interview “mechanic” so much as it is a Lot of cozying up to everybody in pursuit of whatever information you can find on habit/potential group rituals/events that led to his disappearance; you get it by bits and pieces rather than a single structured interview. there is of course a lot more interactions between characters than there is in s4m’s base game bc thats like 60% of the appeal of bugsnax and i would be a fool not to think of it.

- time for ideas for specific characters! kamal is the vice-mayor of the habitat and has been habit’s right-hand grump for as long as any of the inhabitants can remember, despite their relationship becoming increasingly strained ever since their arrival on the island, and especially before habit’s disappearance. i imagine you still find him passed out but instead of collapsing from starvation he’s like "please.... toothpaste... a breath mint.... some pepto bismol. i’ve been able to taste my own breath for weeks." has been trying to divide his time between looking after the habitat and looking for habit himself (and also his best friend wallus) but the dispersal of the habitat has left him a tad Demoralized, to say the least.

- i feel like trencil would play a wambus-adjacent role in the sense that he's the one taking care of the sauce plants and also one of the first townspeople you meet. you convince to come back with you not necessarily bc he'd be able to continue farming in town but bc he would probably have an easier time looking for his daughter if he got some sleep first (but only if you look for her in his stead)

- gillis is like. a wannabe chandlo. makes you capture a bunch of snax that he Says he's gonna use to get stronger but eventually you find out he's been releasing them or keeping them in like lil makeshift pet houses bc he always takes one look at their big googly eyes and turns to mush. but EVERYONE'S eating them so naturally if they find out he's not they're gonna think he's some kinda wuss so he just pretends. 

- dallas keeps asking for sweet n colorful bugsnax to give to mirphy to impress her (sweetieflies, instabugs, etc etc.) but by some streak of bad luck they always end up being her least favorite. he tries to see if Maybe he can use them to make some new bugsnak-exclusive pigments, but like in canon they always end up turning into mush before he can get very far. mirphy meanwhile is far more interested in preserving them for a potential display, but similar to dallas, she never gets very far.

- i imagine the kid habiticians are like. a roving band of semi-feral children bc if anyone's gonna keep them in town it's definitely not kamal.

- i wanna do something with wallus SO BAD like you find him somewhere up in frosted peak but i have no idea what he would even DO its fucking killing me

- those are all the ideas i have For Now; s4m has more characters than bugsnax so there’s a lot to be done w/ them lmao. if i think of any more i’ll probably put it in another post or if anybody wants to spitball with me.......  👀

- and now we get to The Big Guns: habit.

- he was fun to work on w/ this au mostly bc despite being the rough equivalent of lizbert he’s a way different type of flawed leader than her; where liz is responsible to the point of martyring herself without a second thought and not thinking to delegate any tasks to the other snaxburg residents, which is what ultimately causes them to fall apart once she disappears, habit's deal is that he wants the position and appearance of an authority figure because it'll keep him safe, but he kind of sucks at taking responsibility for anything he does wrong because he’s spent most of his life acting according to what other people (namely his family) expect of him and being met with a negative reception no matter what, so he doesn’t really believe he has power over anything, including his own actions, despite being such a control freak for most of his own game. so his arc would need something that’s kind of antithetical to what liz had, wouldn’t it?

- so what i got so far is that au habit was tryin to covertly start a bugsnax cult bc he sees being asborbed by the snax as a sort of ascension and was eventually planning to have everyone be absorbed; it’s important to note however that bc information on bugsnax is so obscure he doesn’t actually 100% know how absorption works so tl;dr: habit became the bugsnax monarch willingly and then 5 seconds later he was like "oh no wait this fucking sucks. what have i done. shit. fuck."

- unable to cope with the realization that he was once again forced to act in accordance to someone (or in this case something) else's desires, he shuts down emotionally, becoming an empty husk of a grumpus while the bugsnax above run rampant thanks to the extra fuel and absolutely no restrictions until the Big Climax when habit is finally moved to take back control of the snax and by proxy Take Some Fucking Responsibility for knowingly luring people to cthulhu island. however this does leave the obvious question of if he was such an empty shell for most of the game why didn’t they just. eat him.

- the answer i eventually landed on was that his self-preservation instincts were still kicking on a subconscious level and during the aforementioned climax he eventually realizes that he does not in fact want to die, he just doesn’t want to keep living the way he is now (as part of an ancient hivemind beyond his understanding) or the way he was before (you know.)

- also fun fact: i was thinking about what his monarch body would be based off of bc the snakdragon, while cool as shit, didn’t feel right for him, and then i remembered that blooming onions exist. i imagine he’s in the middle acting as the flower’s “stigma”

- as for endings i’m thinking like. in the neutral ending kamal joins habit but its left ambiguous whether or not they'll ever be able to leave the island or if this is even a permanent solution (call that the paw in unloveable paw ending). in the good ending you bust habit outta his queen body after fending off enough bugsnax together and it’s super gross bc the undersnax as a whole is super gross but hey at least everyone’s leaving alive. i don’t know what a bad ending entails except most if not all of the cast is dead and habit is left alone on the island surrounded by reminders of his spectacular failure.

- hell i can even think of a sequel hook for the good ending like in canon bugsnax; some time after the ending/credits you ask habit just Where did he get the information on bugsnax that led to him being like “you could make a religion out of this” and the screen fades to black before you hear his answer. there.

- its almost midnight.

[highladyluck]

Mat’s Types, or On Tricksters

I recently made a joke about Mat's 'type' essentially being the Shadar Logoth dagger, and while I stand by it, I also think there's a lot more to it than that. I believe Mat actually has two types, which is entirely appropriate for a trickster archetype. One of his types is playful, joyful, generous people, who reflect his early- but persistent- personality. The other is sharp, powerful, existentially dangerous people, like the person he becomes over the course of the series. Like a raven- itself a trickster figure in Haida storytelling- Mat is attracted to shiny things, mirrors, and death.

But first, some definitions. I'm calling Mat a trickster archetype, so what is that? The trickster archetype is built on a kind of dual contrast. To trick someone, you must change things in a surprising way. Tricksters introduce chaos into an ordered system, or reveal order in what was thought to be chaos. (It's not surprising, or a change, to add order to order, or chaos to chaos.) So tricksters are transformational, liminal figures, who defy expectations and subvert the preexisting order- but who therefore *require* predictions and structure to have any kind of impact or meaning at all. Playing a game requires there be rules; revealing a loophole requires there be a contract.

Within this definition, there's still a huge range of characters you can call tricksters, and it's useful to categorize them across spectrums. One axis of a trickster is "effectiveness", which refers to the trickster's ability to effect change; this is 'incompetent to competent', 'foolish to canny', 'harmless to dangerous'. Another axis is "motivation" which refers to the trickster's ethical structure; this is 'good to evil', 'generous to selfish', 'just to unjust'. There's another kind of axis that's related to motivation, which I'll call "comprehensibility", and which refers to the trickster's transparency of motive; the range there is 'knowable to unknowable', 'familiar to alien', 'clear to mysterious'. If you wanted to chart them all I'd make effectiveness the horizontal x-axis, motivation the vertical y-axis, and comprehensibility the z-axis perpendicular to both of them, but this is starting to get into 'gesturing at the wall map with crazy eyes' territory and I'm mostly just going to be talking about effectiveness and motivation anyway, so let’s move on.

Tricksters can be foolish figures, always getting caught, often the butt of their own joke. That's our early impression of Mat- a prankster who never really seems to get away with anything, or a fool caught in a trap of his own making. Mat is also generous, insofar as he has apparently been rescuing people his whole life, plus he's very 'easy come, easy go' about money, and has a decent instinct for gift-giving, whether those are compliments or actual physical presents. He has a strong sense of justice that puts him at odds with people who have (unearned) privilege and who are abusing power, and he loves verbally trapping people into confronting their own hypocrisy.

He keeps these traits throughout the series, but he also develops ones on the opposite side of the axes. Stealing the Shadar Logoth dagger is the catalyst for Mat's development from 'harmless, benevolent trickster' to 'dangerous, morally complicated trickster'. It literally overwrites first his personality, and then his memories. While he gets the personality back- sort of- he never gets the memories back, and his quest to do so sets him on the rest of his path.

By the end of the series, Mat has undergone enormous trauma and developed a much stronger sense of self-preservation. He becomes a canny and multi-talented figure, a brilliant tactician and strategist, a dangerous enemy to have. He's most selfish and cruel when under the influence of the Shadar Logoth dagger, but it turns out he's also never been in the rescuing business for free, he wants to be needed and will get a little pissy if he isn't (although to his credit, he respects people's wishes if they say they don't want to be saved from themselves.)

His greed for adventure and shiny things was what got him into trouble with the dagger, and he never quite loses his appraiser's eye (or taste) for luxury goods. And Tuon is entirely right to name him 'Devastation' or 'Ruin'; he's constantly blowing things up, killing enormous amounts of people directly or by proxy, and while everyone in this series commits war crimes, he's got the dubious honor of having another character (Teslyn) actually say to his face, "You know you just did a war crime, right?"

Mat spends the early books- when he's in good enough health to do so, and has the opportunity- pursuing women, wine, and song, and I mention them all together because that's the vibe he's going for. Mat genuinely loves flirting and dancing for their own sake, as fun things to do with receptive people, and that extends to sexual activities as well. It's a joyful, generous, playful way of interacting, and Mat's joie de vivre seems to attract people with similar attitudes.

Yes, Mat sometimes puts his foot in his mouth, but he's not actually disrespectful of anyone else's agency, so he's doing better than the rest of the Two Rivers boys. He doesn't make assumptions about whether there will be a next interaction or not, or how far each interaction will go; each step is negotiated with input from both players, which makes it a kind of game. Mat doesn't have long-term relationships with these fun, playful people, but he's not looking for that, and neither are they.

The other kind of people Mat is attracted to are what I'll call 'dagger people', who are sharp (smart, competent, possibly literally an edged weapon), powerful, and existentially dangerous. It is *possible* that Mat might have acquired this taste without the Shadar Logoth dagger's influence. He likes battles, he likes adventure, he generally treats women as respected equals, he might have gotten to 'date a woman who can kick your ass' all on his own. But Mat loved that Shadar Logoth dagger, they had a whole entire fucked-up relationship, and when they broke up he got a bunch of rebound knives and also some sharp, powerful, and existentially dangerous people's memories shoved into his head. Like calls to like, blood feeds blood, etc.

And boy, does Mat find these ladies, or more accurately, boy, do these ladies find him. Case in point: Melindhra, the sexy darkfriend Maiden of the Spear. I think Aludra partially fits, too- sharp, confident if not powerful, dangerous (though not so much to him as like... the world.) Mat isn't pursuing or attracted to either Joline or Tylin, but they also fit this description, and they definitely pursued him. (I'd love to add Lanfear to the list of 'dangerous ladies who made passes at Mat' but I can't quite do it with a straight face.) I don't think Mat's thing for dagger people really reaches its full flower until he starts getting to know Tuon, though.

Mat spends much of the series looking for both his types, and tends to find either one or the other, but not both in one person- until Tuon. Like Mat, Tuon is actually both these types in a sometimes uneasy coexistence. For all their many differences, they think about each other much the same way. They both find each other very layered and confusing, but also are surprisingly quick to trust each other, which is striking in people who are very suspicious, in a fraught situation, and on opposite sides. I think most of the reason they trust each other is because they have the same very contractual personal honor system, where 'my word is my bond'. That's a trickster thing; tricksters have to keep some kind of rules, or how else will they play games and know whether they've won or lost? But their rules can be hidden or idiosyncratic (that's the z-axis, comprehensibility) as you see in 'bargains with the fae'-type situations. Personal honor is also a feature of royalty, though, where the personal and political are bound together, and a person's promises can be treated as legal contracts, as well as honor-based societies in general.

Mat and Tuon take their promises to each other very seriously, but are also always both looking for loopholes so they can get the upper hand. They also are both following the script of prophecy, which I mention because they both devote a lot of time to subverting their own expectations about how exactly that prophecy is going to play out. Mat buckles down and says “I’m going to make this come out in my favor somehow, even though it’s not what I wanted,” yet he’s still surprised at how and when Tuon completes the marriage ceremony; Tuon does not find Mat anything like she expected, and she also is surprised at her own feelings for him. Near the end of the series, they take a break from playing tricks and mind games on each other, and instead bluff everyone else on the battlefield, tag-teaming their trickster powers for one last surprise attack.

Ok, so how is Tuon Mat’s first type, playful, joyful, and generous? She loves playing games with Mat, both actual literal games like stones, but also their weird flirting/power plays. She's super competitive, because anyone who wasn't who was in her shoes would be dead, but she's a good sport, "satisfied when she wins and determined when she loses". She's also got "mischievous" smiles, and turns the tables on Mat in a super trickster-y way, writing the letter that puts everyone in the circus under her protection except for Mat and his crew; which means he and his coterie are still 'not safe' and thus he has to keep travelling with her rather than bringing her back to Ebou Dar right away, by the terms of their promise.

Mat gives us really lovely descriptions of her in moments of joy, and one of the first things we learn about her is that her genuine smile makes her look completely different from the normal Resting Bitch Face she affects for self-preservation reasons. She's generous in the sense that she's (often) willing to consider other points of view and give people second chances, when others in her position wouldn't and don't. She has the generosity of privilege, which I admit is not the most laudable form of generosity, but it's still a form of generosity. She also has a natural compassion and merciful impulses that have been trimmed and hemmed and twisted into only the forms her society deems socially acceptable, but they're still there.

I have less of a job to do proving that Tuon is a 'dagger person'. You remember how I joked about 'sharp' meaning 'literally an edged weapon'? Well, I don't know how else I'm supposed to interpret "Tuon’s right hand swept across, bladed like an axe, and struck [the footpad's] throat so hard that he heard the cartilage cracking". SHE'S LITERALLY A WEAPON. MAT HAS FINALLY FOUND A REPLACEMENT FOR HIS SEXY EVIL KNIFE. :') She's also super smart, super canny, and a snappy dresser to boot. She's one of the most powerful women in the world, and by the end of the series Mat is absolutely into it. (The bit where he's like "She's so good at giving orders! *heart eyes*" is simultaneously hilarious and alarming. I get it- I simp for Kuvira from Legend of Korra, I can't throw stones at anyone who’s like ‘hot evil Empress, please step on me’- but there's a time and a place, Mat.)

And, of course, she's an existential threat to the world, Mat's family and friends, and (theoretically) Mat himself. The Seanchan Empire, despite not being bigoted towards the Tinkers and having pretty good gender equality, is committing massive human rights violations left and right, thanks to the slavery, channelerphobia, and imperialism. As a tool of the Empire, unless he works on extricating himself, Mat's going to be culpable for that (he already is, really, but it could be worse), which is a stain on his soul that I don't think either he or the readers want. Being a tool of the Empire is an existential threat to Mat's idea of himself as an independent agent and good person, and I guess also an existential threat to his life since he's getting all those assassination attempts from his coworkers. (I am excluding Tuon from the assassination attempts; as I've mentioned in a previous essay, her threats to Mat are not serious and are in fact a form of deranged flirting.)

Tuon and Mat are both dual-axis tricksters, in their way. Tuon- or I should really be saying, Fortuona, Lady Luck- is more on the bringing order to chaos side, and Mat falls most characteristically on the bringing chaos to order end of things. But they switch roles- Mat shores up the proper order of things when he reminds Tuon to keep her promises, and Tuon is often a chaotic influence at court, with her mercy or willingness to change her mind. They also both understand what it's like to be both a person and an archetype- Mat worries about losing his individual choice and freedom by becoming a hero, and Tuon worries about becoming too vulnerable and individual to be the strong and impartial hand she thinks the Empire needs.

They've also both experienced their instincts and worldview being overwritten by external forces; for Tuon it's been happening since birth and she's almost entirely embraced the process; for Mat, it was the consequence of a choice he made and he fought it every step of the way. They have very different responses, but they've experienced weirdly similar 'erasure' experiences. And they both have good and evil impulses entwined in complicated ways. Tuon is a survivor and a monster; a preserver and a destroyer; a person and an empire. And Mat builds a relationship with her when- and because- he accepts that he is both a lover and a fighter; generous and thieving; a person and a weapon. You may not like it, but this is what peak narrative compatibility looks like.

[playlistmusings]

I had him right there where I wanted him

3,252 words

Jude Duarte x Cardan Greenbriar

read on ao3

A very big thanks to @yourlocalautisticoverlord for giving me the prompt: Knife Wife Jude teaches Cardan basic self defense (he is very bad at it).

Jude is bored and wants someone to spar with. The only thing stopping her from having a sparring partner is that, Cardan sucks at fighting. Luckily, Jude doesn't mind teaching her husband how to defend himself and Cardan doesn't mind the way Jude teaches him.

-----

Ambiguous time period, could be set during a slightly AU TWK if Cardan and Jude had their shit together and Jude wasn’t exiled or post TQoN with pretty much no changes to canon.

-----

Cardan felt oddly at peace in the training room of the Court of Shadows. He knew he probably shouldn’t, after all he was surrounded by more weapons than he could count and some of the most gifted and terrifying warriors and spies he’d ever met. But one of those warriors was his wife and everyone else had, at one point or another, actively worked to keep alive and on the throne, so perhaps the peace was justified. So, he sat in a chair off to the side, pieces of parchment in his hands that he read through whilst desperately trying to ignore the group of spies that was taking turns sparring each other. He was just flipping a letter over to read the back—because reports on crop growth were so interesting—when a knife flew past his face and thudded in the wall. Ripped from his thoughts, Cardan looked up and towards the person who threw the knife—of course it was Jude, who else would risk even nicking the High King? —and gave her a sardonic glare, daring her to let a second knife already held between her fingers go flying.

“Come on, Cardan! At least try to spar with us!” Her voice rang out as she grinned at him, as if all it took for Cardan to give up was a taunt and a smile (which, to be fair to Jude, usually that was all it took).

“I have important work to do, you know, as High King of Elfhame I actually have to do things.” He held her gaze, shifting from a glare to a equally sarcastic smile, the type of smile that usually made her jut out her chin and glare at him—the smile that usually followed some offhand comment meant to rile her up and preceded Jude muttering something about how insufferable or intolerable or in- something Cardan was before she crashed her lips into his. But here, in the training room, surrounded by people, Cardan was pretty certain she wouldn’t do anything—after all she always seemed off when publicly showing affection. And if they only kissed or hugged when they were alone, it didn’t really bother Cardan, if anything it made moments like these, where he could taunt her like he did back when they were in school—minus the part where she thought he was genuinely trying to kill or main her—all the more fun. So, as Jude glared, obviously trying to come up with some clever retort, Cardan’s smile softened, turning genuine for only a second before he forced himself to focus on the papers sitting in his lap.

“Ah, yes, High King Cardan has to focus on his work, because he’s so important, and does nothing but focus on work…” Jude muttered half formed insults under her breath while walking to rip her knife from the wall. And if someone saw Cardan smiled wider when he heard her, then he would claim that he was just happy that Elfhame was having a good farming season and it had nothing to do with his wife.

-----

Jude was exhausted. The good kind of exhausted, though, where you could feel your muscles work through every movement, growing stronger as you pushed them. Yet, all of her sparring partners were apparently too exhausted to continue training. One by one, over the course of an hour or so everyone had made their way out of the room, first it was the Roach claiming he had somewhere to be, then it was the Bomb claiming she had a meeting with someone— acting like no one knew that someone was the Roach—and then, all too quickly, it was only Cardan and Jude in the room. This would have been a welcome change, if Cardan weren’t more focused on those God damn papers than Jude. She had been trying to get him out of that chair for hours, taunting him and “accidentally” losing grip of her weapons and strategically letting them fly past his head in an attempt to break his focus on his work and look up at her instead.

So now she stood in the middle of the room, exhausted and exasperated, trying to think of some way she could get Cardan’s attention. At this point it was less about the way he seemed to have a stick up his ass and wouldn’t interact with anyone else, or her wanting her husband to pay attention to her, or anything like that, Jude was filled with determination and spite, if he would work so hard to not pay attention to her then she would refuse to let him do anything other than focus on her.

She pulled her arm back before swinging it forward, letting the thin throwing knife slip out of her fingers and spin through the air past Cardan’s ear and into the wall behind him, it was the second time she had done this today, but luckily that didn’t mean it surprised Cardan any less. His eyes snapped up to hers before wandering around the room briefly, as if just noticing that they were alone in the training room. His gaze latched onto hers right as she started stalking towards him, Nightfell swinging in one hand, a random dagger in the other.

“What are you up to?” His voice was uneasy, but just barely, his discomfort hiding in the waver his voice had as he ended his question—he was trying to hide his discomfort in the way that only Jude could see through.

She kept walking toward him, stopping an arms-length away before holding the dagger out to him, “Take it.”

Cardan looked at her face, as if searching for a reason for her actions, before gingerly taking the dagger from her left hand.

-----

Cardan held the dagger in his right hand, feeling its weight, trying not to slice a finger on the blade. Jude was certainly up to something, he couldn’t figure out what quite yet, perhaps she was going to make him spar her or perhaps she had snapped and was going to kill him here in the Court of Shadows, tucked away where only a select few people could find his body. However, while Cardan was left wondering what was going to happen, he was pretty certain it was happening because he had been very purposefully ignoring her all afternoon.

“Stand up.” Her chin was jutting out again, and Cardan could see her jaw clench as he took a few seconds before sighing and setting the parchments on the floor and standing, making a show of every action he made.

“So, now are you going to tell me what’s happening?” Something in Jude seemed to momentarily soften as he looked her in the eye plainly, with no pretense or sarcasm, just searching for an answer in her face.

“I’m bored and you’re here and I’m going to spar you,” Her voice made it clear that even if he wanted to ignore her, she wouldn’t make it easy for him.

“Well, my Queen, that would be a wonderful idea if I were a partner worth sparring.” Cardan thought back to days spent attempting to refine what few combat skills he had, forcing himself out of his memories before they could go down a dark path consumed by Balekin’s taunts and servants whipping his back.

“Then, I don’t know, I’ll…” Jude turned on her heel, exasperation coloring her voice as it faded off, “I’ll just have to teach you. I know you can fight a little, so I’ll teach you, I mean it makes sense for you to at least be able to try to protect yourself.”

Cardan once again forced his thoughts away from other lessons he’d been forced into, knowing that he couldn’t hide the discomfort Jude’s words brought on.

“Oh, I don’t mean to—I won’t make you, if you don’t want to, it’s fine, I forgot about all that. It’s okay, Cardan, I’m fine,” Jude stuttered her apology as her mind drifted to the time she hid under a table in Balekin’s house.

Cardan’s heart softened, the realization that despite all of Jude’s rough edges, she’d do anything before hurting someone she loved sunk in as he said words he didn’t know if he’d regret, “No, it’s fine, let’s do this. Teach me to fight, your Majesty.”

-----

Jude nodded, still feeling guilty for forgetting why Cardan didn’t enjoy endless sparring sessions like she did. She quickly pushed those thoughts to the back of her mind, trying to take Cardan’s reassurance, after all he couldn’t lie to her even if he wanted to, so it had to be fine, right?

“Okay, let’s start with defensive positions, then.” Jude approached Cardan, loosely holding Nightfell in her hand before swinging directly towards Cardan’s side, stopping inches away from his arm that did nothing but flinch. Dear God, he really has no self-preservation, no wonder he always got into messes. Jude groaned a little before looking at Cardan and asking, “So, in that scenario do you really just want to lose an arm?”

He shook his head, “Obviously not, but what am I supposed to do? You have a whole sword and I have, what? A tiny knife?”

“You could at least try to block me. Like, here, like this.” Jude moved towards Cardan and lifted his harm and hand to make a motion so that his dagger would intercept the path of her blade. And so, it went on like that, for what felt like years. Jude slowly showing Cardan a motion, working with him until he could do it cleanly, eventually moving on from defensive maneuvers to offensive jabs and slashes. It was progress, however clumsy and unpracticed his movements were, at least it was progress. Jude kept telling herself it was unreasonable to expect Cardan to perfect anything she showed him but something in her ached for him to understand faster, to understand more.

-----

Cardan had been trying to execute the same movement for about fifteen minutes now. Jude kept claiming he was going wrong when he did something wrong with his wrist, right there after you reach out, but he still had no clue as to fix it. And while Cardan could see the merit in knowing how to defend oneself, he did have an entire legion of knights whose sole job was defending him, so he didn’t have to and on top of that he had a wife who was more than happy to ride off into battles for him, so there was really nearly no scenario he’d need to know any of this stuff. The last time he could even think of getting attacked was when Jude held a knife to his throat in Dain’s study—which to be honest, he didn’t exactly mind repeating that event. But alas, despite all the repetition and scolding and sweat, Cardan loved seeing the way Jude’s face lit up whenever he mastered a movement or successfully blocked an attack. Something about Jude just seemed right when she fought, like this was what she was meant to do. Her eyes had a fire in them, and her body moved with a practiced ease that Cardan was only now noticing, when for once he could focus on her and her movements without a threat looming over every action. It was intoxicating, seeing someone so in their element, seeing Jude so clearly doing exactly what she was trained to do, exactly what she loved. Even now, when she wasn’t doing anything other than glaring at his arm—as if that was the solution to his problem—there was something in her that made it clear that she wasn’t actually mad or upset, she was purely focused and full of intent.

Cardan made the same movement for possibly the hundredth time, which elicited a drawn out and dramatic groan from Jude as she threw her head back in exasperation, “I keep telling you, not that, you need to—” Jude groaned again before stepping behind Cardan and reaching around his body to grab his wrist, “You need to do this.” Cardan felt sparks erupt across his skin as her breath hit the back of his neck, trying desperately to focus on the way her hand twisted his wrist and pushed out his arm and not on the way he could feel a ghost of her lips right above his shirt or the way his tail was flicking back and forth, wanting to reach out and around one of her legs, trapping her against him.

After a few repetitions, Jude stepping back, and Cardan didn’t know whether to thank her or beg her to come back. He tried the movement again and this time he thought Jude was going to kill him with the glare she shot at his hand. He tried to shrug, and she groaned again.

“Perhaps this is a signal that we should stop?” Cardan offered, hoping that Jude would take him up on his offer and he could stop pretending like he even knew what scenario he would need use this movement in.

“Perhaps.” Jude echoed, looking lost in her thoughts, no doubt still trying to think of some way she could help fix his issue.

Cardan walked over to a table and placed the dagger he had been using next to a variety of other knives before he was interrupted.

“You know what? No. That’s not happening. I taught you all of this so that we could spar, so before we’re done, we’re going to spar.”

As Cardan turned to face Jude, readying some response about that being unnecessary and there always being tomorrow, he was faced with a fearsome sight, Jude standing just behind him, Nightfell drawn and a blaze in her eyes. His throat bobbed as he reached to pick up the dagger just in time for Jude to make her first strike.

Cardan didn’t know how he blocked it, his arm instinctively reaching out while his wrist twisted so he could stop her blade from slicing his side.

“Of course, now you get it,” Jude’s voice filled the training room as she stepped back, so that they could spar in the middle of the room.

As soon as Cardan reached Jude, he knew he made a mistake. She was relentless, all offense and power and grace, and it felt like all he could do was struggle to hold onto his dagger and hope he wouldn’t get cut.

She swung her sword around in mesmerizing arcs before reaching out to continue her attack, stepping towards Cardan so she could push him away from the center of the room. Cardan knew he should lash out, at the very least he should find a way to move away from exactly where Jude wanted him to be, but he couldn’t find any openings. She was unstoppable, a force of nature pushing against him and forcing him to use every ounce of training he had just to stay in one piece.

As soon as Cardan felt one of his feet hit the wall behind him, he knew he was done for. He was trapped and definitely the worse swordsman—knifeman? —and he knew he couldn’t get out of the reach of Nighfell or block Jude’s attacks forever. Jude’s eyes lit up when she saw Cardan freeze, using the opportunity to let her sword clatter to the floor, take Cardan’s dagger from his hand, and push him against the wall, holding the knife to his throat, all in one maneuver.

Cardan breathed heavily, looking into Jude’s eyes hoping she understood this was him surrendering.

“Come on Cardan, how do you ever expect to win a real fight if you can’t even stop me from unarming you?” Jude’s voice was a little breathless, despite the lack of sweat on her body and the steady heartbeat Cardan could feel through her chest and she pinned him to the wall.

He grinned.

-----

Jude suddenly felt unsure of her victory. Yes, she had a weapon poised in the perfect position for a killing move. Yes, she had him trapped. Yes, she had the upper hand.

But then his hands were on her waist and he gave her one of his stupid smiles, the one that she didn’t know how to respond to, and he whispered, “Come on, love, we both know I’m already winning in this situation.”

Jude forced herself to keep her grip on the dagger, but she knew he could feel her pulse stutter then speed up, and suddenly she didn’t know whether to curse or thank her past self for deciding the best way to beat Cardan was to use her body to trap him against the wall. It felt oddly reminiscent of their first kiss, where she thought she had him exactly where she wanted him, but then he somehow gained all the control. As his hands pulled her even closer—she didn’t even realize that was possible—she resigned herself to losing just this once and let her hand fall down to her side and the dagger slip from her grip.

His lips were on her jaw first, making her head fall back with a groan as he worked his way down her throat. Jude felt a little stupid for letting herself give into Cardan’s charms so easily—was that really all it took? A cocky comment and a touch? –but quickly pushed thoughts of stupidity and regret out of her mind as he took her face in his hands so he could crash their lips together. It was a breathless mess of teeth and lips and tongue, as their hands pulled on each other, trying to get closer, closer. Jude felt like she was making up for that first kiss, where Cardan was drunk, and she was confused, and everything was hiding behind too many falsities and lies to even begin to unravel the truth about either of their feelings. But now—when she had Cardan in her arms and her feelings sorted and a ring on her finger—she felt like this was what that first kiss could have felt like, in some different life where things weren’t as complicated.

All the thoughts of the past were quickly shut out as Cardan flipped them around, so that Jude’s back was against the wall, and lifted her up so that he could kiss her deeper. Jude felt lost in him, she knew she must be doing something, after all Cardan was gasping into her mouth, but she couldn’t take her focus away from Cardan and his hands and his lips long enough to even think about where her hands were. As Cardan pulled his lips from hers, leaving Jude making a rather undignified noise in the back of her throat—a noise she would most definitely deny making if asked about it at a later date—he panted and held a finger to her lips.

“Jude.” Cardan’s voice was rough and low. “Jude, I think someone is coming in.”

As soon as he said the words, Jude could hear voices and nearing steps through the door. She groaned, letting her face fall onto Cardan’s shoulder before unwrapping her legs from around him and walking back to where she had dropped Nightfell. As the door opened to reveal the Bomb and the Roach, Jude turned back to Cardan who had just barely reached the dagger he had been using all afternoon, she grinned dangerously before asking, “Want to spar again?”

[sepublic]

I’ve been binge reading all your amazingly thoughtful analyses and I was wondering, if you could give the Blight Twins their own episode, (like separate one for Edric and one for Emira because I’ve seen how twins don’t want to bunch together all the time and be their own person) what would you want it to be about?

           OH-HO, this is SUCH a flattering ask and I really must thank you for it! It means a lot…

           With Emira, I hate to be obvious, predictable, main-stream, and pick a low-hanging fruit… But I want her to meet Viney. Emira is someone who is concerned the most of the two about having an actual identity on her own, and this likely includes making friends… So why not go get to know the Detention Kids, who are already rebellious in their own way, but while still managing to flex their individuality?

           Just imagine an episode of Emira getting to know Viney, maybe wanting to be close… But Viney, well. She’s someone who’s defensive because she’s been hurt in the past, and after what she’s heard of the Blights and Emira’s penchant for illusions, she is rightfully going to be suspicious. So we’ll have Emira possibly wanting to abuse the Secret Room of Shortcuts for pranks, but then Viney wants to preserve it mostly as an educational tool, and Emira doesn’t CARE for education…

           And this could lead to Em perhaps being too dismissive and even harsh towards Viney, because she seems like someone who while she tries to self-reflect, she sometimes doesn’t fully realize when she’s just parroting her parents’ abuse. And so we have Emira learning to be more mature and straight-forward, to cease the pranks and mind Viney’s feelings and uncertainty… Being truthful and tender to lower her guard, and Emira actually having to openherself to another person that isn’t Edric.

          Perhaps Em admits WHY she’s like this to Viney, who also introduces her side of the story… And they get to be actual friends! Emira learns to respect who Viney is as well as her interests, Viney gives Em a chance and lets her in figuratively AND literally… Maybe Emira even discovers an actual enjoyment of certain classes beyond Illusions! Or she doesn’t, but either way she may not be too much like Viney, but that doesn’t mean they can’t be friends! And not being like someone she’s close to is… HONESTLY what Emira was aiming for, only now she can still respect these differences too!

          As for Edric…

          Edric is a dude who prioritizes companionship over all-else. But he’s also kind of a goofy kid sometimes, and that’s worth noting. Depending on how Lilith’s character development goes, and how she ALSO was someone who was clingy towards her own sister and didn’t respect Eda’s autonomy as an individual to be her own person, insisting that being together mattered most… I’d LOVE to see Lilith perhaps give Edric a few pointers on this, maybe here them talk about their feelings of crippling loneliness! Let Ed get to be a dumb kid sometimes while Lilith isn’t sure what to make of his antics while Luz just enables him. It’d be amazing to see Lilith and Edric talk about their respective relationship towards Amity…

          Ed knowing this is the lady Amity looked up to, having had reservations because she was a bootlicker; But then Lilith threw it all away –albeit not entirely willingly- for Eda and Luz! So, maybe she IS good for something after all…! Meanwhile, Lilith possibly knows of Amity’s occasional issues with her twin siblings…

          And she thinks of her own time with Eda. So, she decides to impart some wisdom to Edric, about how you should always love your sibling and never go too far, while still letting them be a person… And somewhere along the way, Edric realizes this wouldn’t just apply to him and Amity, but him and Emira too.

          Then Lilith and Edric form a found-family bond, maybe Ed accidentally calls her Mom as well… Maybe even Lilith lets him have fun with King and Owlbert, because the kid wanted pets as a child but never got them because of his strict parents! Not sure how King would feel about Edric though, but I could also imagine them getting into some WEIRD antics alongside Luz! And come to think of it…

          Maybe a pet WOULD help Edric’s issues, though unfortunately I can’t really see Lilith being able to help by getting in a good word with the Blight Parents given her, um, employment status. And if Edric could just get away with hiding a pet through illusions, he’d have probably done it by now, so. On another note, Lilith and Edric both wear glasses (or at least Lilith used to), so I’d LOVE to see the two become more comfortable about doing that around each other.

          For either twin, maybe both, I’d also like to explore their thoughts on Willow… They knew she was Amity’s best friend, but did they know WHY Amity cut ties? They seemed legit concerned in Lost in Language over the way ‘Amity treats people’, so I think the twins had worries about Amity pushing away her best friend like that, potentially because of their parents (though to what degree they had no idea)! Not to mention, how do the Twins feel about Boscha…?

          Boscha is ALSO a trouble-maker, and a bit of a bully herself; Though I don’t think to the same extent as Ed and Em were, and arguably without as much of a reason for it. This was someone Amity hung around with for years, do they know it was against her will? Surely the Twins realized how little Amity smiled around Boscha and her posse, did they have concerns that Amity was being too cold to them, not realizing Amity was forced to hang out with them to begin with?

          How do they feel about Boscha and Amity being on bad terms, about the former breaking the latter’s leg… And what was Boscha’s perspective on the two, and how Amity disliked them? Maybe Ed and Em are harsh towards Boscha for the Grudgby incident, but then they also seem pretty open-minded when it comes to people outside of their family… So maybe they consider Boscha’s side of the story and how Amity WAS cold to her and the others. And maybe the twins learn about what their parents ordered, and tell Boscha to give some peace of mind for her, to give closure…

          Sure it hurts for Boscha to hear Amity never DID like her, but in this case, it really IS for her own good. Maybe it’ll be like Understanding Willow, only instead of Luz it’s Ed and Em, and instead of Willow it’s Boscha; Perhaps we learn more of Boscha’s background, and we get to see her and Amity reconcile, perhaps with Boscha finally learning to respect Willow and Luz on Amity’s behalf… Or they at least acknowledge that both were put into a messed-up situation, a false and thus unhealthy friendship, and decide to leave without any grudges. Who knows?

           I’d honestly love to see Ed and Em perhaps act as like… surrogate older siblings to Boscha, because now they get to make more friends outside of the family (and at least their parents can’t disapprove of Boscha), and they talk about their own mutual concerns and thoughts of Amity, with the twins vouching for Amity while at the same time considering what Boscha has to say and relaying that… Maybe the twins, who are willing to be self-aware, even if they’re not the best at it, tell Boscha to cut out the bullying, that she doesn’t need to be on top or be beholden to what anyone else says!

          I think it’d be sweet, honestly, and I’d love to see more of Boscha’s friends for that matter! Because we know that while Amity was never close to any of them, she’s still an inherently good person and thus felt bad about injuring them in Grudgby; Especially since to Amity’s perspective, she’s no doubt been ‘lying’ to Boscha about their friendship, even if it wasn’t her fault!

          But, yeah… Sorry for getting a little off-topic, but given how much this show stresses relationships and found family, and blood-family being obligated to RESPECT the found family of their relatives… I just think it’d be fascinating to see, on top of Emira and Edric having their own personal journeys of self-discovery! Because as we see with Luz, being your own individual doesn’t mean cutting ties from everyone else, and arguably…

          Making new connections can HELP one make an identity! Because you still choose to make connections not out of obligation, need, and situation… But because it’s what you want and it’s all YOU as a result, because desires are a reflection of a person! And maybe then, Emira and Edric can go back to being Twins and closest friends, now closer than ever in a healthy sense, because now they’re still their own individuals and respect one another as such, and are fine with letting each other be people!

          That they know who they are, and so the Twins don’t need to worry about losing sight of that identity whenever they hang around, because in the end… While MAYBE some of their closeness came as a result of having no one else and needing companionship against their parents, I really do believe that Emira and Edric, despite potential fears suggesting otherwise, DO love and enjoy one another’s company and always will, perhaps more than they do others’! And as long as they’re their own people, that wouldn’t even be a bad thing, honestly…

          Just, the idea of Emira and Edric trying to figure out who they are separate from one another, and in learning so, their bond with each other becomes even stronger and healthier! That they become more comfortable, and more close, because they can afford to be truly honest without worrying about losing the other and having nobody else!

          Once the confusion of who they are is cleared, the Blight Twins can go back to enjoying one another unconditionally, neither worrying about being different nor the same! Just natural sibling love…! No more concern about losing oneself amidst the other, because Emira and Edric are truly their own people now, and thus they aren’t dependent upon one another and can be fully healthy to each other!

          Maybe by the end of their respective journeys, Emira and Edric learn to respect the wishes of one another, while still staying the same… With Edric realizing that he can’t hold onto Emira possessively, and Emira recognizing Edric’s genuine love and concern for her, that she doesn’t need to ‘cut ties’ to be her own person!

          …Look, I just have FEELINGS about these twins, because they’re the children of the Blight Parents and that alone implies issues, but we already SEE a few concerning things, and I just want them to reconcile after Grom and heal from the pain of rejection! Them being stood up is the last we see of Emira and Edric both in terms of official content and chronology, I demand CLOSURE and emotional reparations for these kids!

[queensofthekastle]

For the dialogue prompt -- how's about 42?? :]

HOLY SHIT OK IT TOOK ME A MONTH BUT I'VE DONE IT. FINALLY. Life was just happening everywhere, thanks for waiting me out. 🙏

TW: descriptions and references to racist police violence.

The prompt was "I'm only here to establish an alibi." I was totally stuck--what could be blamed on Frank that he wouldn't have actually done? Canonically to the comics (though I commend the show for not giving a flying fuck about whether Frank went after glorified DHS cops who were dirty) the only things Frank won't touch are bystanders, cops, and active duty military.

And then I had it. Because 2020 has been A Year and I'm still processing some shit. So, here we go.

-Stellar

************************************

The door rattles under a succinct knock at 2:45 am—just when Karen had been so close to falling asleep, caught in that limbo of vague consciousness and wandering thoughts just on the cusp of falling into dreams. So, it’s with more irritation than concern that she drags herself out of bed after the second round of door-bludgeoning. It being post-closing time on a Friday—well, Saturday now—she's fairly confident what she’ll find through the peephole will be a drunk neighbor with the wrong apartment. It wouldn’t be the first time, nor, probably, the last.

A cautious look through the peephole does not reveal one of her gregarious bar-hopping neighbors though, but a still figure; hood pulled close around his face to shadow shifting eyes that look black as ink in the low, shit light of the apartment hallway. Frank has a lovely mouth, but it’s set now in a tense line. Karen’s heart picks up speed, a fullness in her chest and a pressure in her veins—middle of the night, tense Frank is never a good sign. Though he doesn’t seem to be bleeding from anywhere, which is more than can be said for some of his other visits.

She undoes the door chain, and she’s quietly but earnestly asking “what’s going on?” before she even has the door open wide enough for him to see her face.

“Nothing.” He says, voice rough and low, but calm. “I just need someone to know it’s nothing.”

He looks askance, looks at her. She allows herself a sigh.

“What does that even mean, Frank?”

He shifts his weight and looks at her from under the shadow of his hood. 

“I’m only here to establish an alibi.”

“Because you didn’t do something, or because you did?”

“Didn’t,” he says, and she believes him. She always does. It’s one piece of why he’s so dear to her: Frank never lies to her, and she never lies to him.

“This should be interesting,” she says, and opens the door far enough for him to step through. When she’s closed it behind him she asks if he’d like a drink. He answers without looking her in the eye, mind working on something else far away from her little apartment—he asks for his usual, of course. Only Frank would suggest coffee this near to 3:00 am.

“Not sleeping tonight?” she asks. He shrugs one shoulder.

“Guess not.”

“Uh-huh. So you didn’t do anything, but you’re pulling an all-nighter in my apartment? I’m going to need an explanation here soon, Frank.”

He hovers beside the hutch that acts as her kitchen island without looking any more settled than he had out in the hall. His jaw works for a moment before he answers.

“I don’t know how much you want to know. Let's just say I ran into someone with a mission about like mine and I’m giving her space to work.”

“Oh. God. A Punisher copycat? Jesus, Frank. The law turns a blind eye to one of you, I doubt you’ll get away with two.”

“Nah,” he says, “nothing like that. I’m it. This is a one-time thing—lady's got some things to get out of her system. I only found out because she was after the same supply chain I was.”

“Supply chain?”

“Ammo,” he says flatly. Karen holds her next blink a little too hard and a little too long. But he is what he is—she accepts that again every time she opens her door to him—and she doesn’t comment except to ask:

“Who is this person after that you aren’t?”

“It’s probably better you don't ask. If someone comes sniffing after me about it you should be able to say you didn’t know anything.”

“So if one of your Homeland ‘friends' shows up to see if you’re testing their good graces what do I tell them, then? That you just showed up at three in the morning for a chat? No one is going to buy that.”

He shifts, not quite shrugging, looking off into space with the raised eyebrows of feigned innocence.

“Just say I saw your light on, came to say hi.”

“Right. And you were walking around Hell’s Kitchen to see my light on in the first place because . . .?”

“Couldn’t sleep. Hoping maybe if I tried my luck with a walk I’d find you up.”

Karen sighs, turning away to pour his coffee. She’s made it thick as hot asphalt for him, in part because she knows he likes that, in part because she’s so damn tired she’d lost track of how many grounds she was piling into the coffeemaker. Frank takes the mug she offers him with a low “thank you.” And sure enough, after a sip, he smiles.

“You always make my kind of coffee,” he says.

“It’s an easy recipe,” she says, leaning over the counter opposite him, “just make it so no sane person would drink it.”

He laughs, a very short, low sound that rumbles in his chest and rasps in his throat. 

“Dare I ask what you were actually in the neighborhood for?” She asks. “If insomnia is your alibi?”

“Probably shouldn't. Let’s just say I had a meeting.”

Karen quirks an eyebrow, conveying as much skepticism with the look as she can.

“Meeting as in you’re probably accessory to whatever it is this friend of yours is doing?”

“Something like that, yeah.”

Karen fixes him with her best piercing journalist stare. He drinks his coffee. They stalemate that way in silence for a minute or so before he meets her eyes and speaks.

“There are some things I don’t touch,” he says. “People doing their jobs, following shit orders and shit training and fucking up in the process—shit I’ve done, Afghanistan . . . I wouldn’t have a leg to stand on. Would be a hypocrite. It’s not my place. And I guess you could call it self-preservation, too. Doesn’t mean I don’t think about it, though.”

“Think about…?”

He takes a long drink, eyeing her over the top of the mug, making some calculation she can’t guess at.

“You know any Latin?” he says finally. “Quis custodiet ipsos custodes mean anything to you?”

It does, and for a moment, she’s sure her heart has stopped.

“Oh, no,” she says. “Who watches the watchmen. Tell me this is what I think it is.”

“I’m not telling you anything, don’t worry.”

“Frank,” she hisses. She doesn’t need his sarcasm right now. She thinks she knows what it could be that he won’t touch and still endorse: with Frank it’s always either war or justice, and every headline for the last month has been about the absence of justice on a battlefield where he could never hope to win. Cops in the city conveniently overlook Frank. He gets the ones they can’t, they have no vested interest in handing him over so long as he doesn’t mess with them. It’s an unspoken arrangement that lets Frank do what he does—and what he does lets him stand to live. Karen knows that. They’ve been over it enough. The police let Frank slip through their fingers and he doesn’t pick a fight in exchange.

But it’s been a long summer, and every day of it has been a fight with police for the thousands of protesters gathering over and over throughout the city. In early June a beat cop—White, of course—used a kind of handheld Taser repeatedly on an unarmed Black man “resisting arrest" for a crime he didn’t commit. Cell phone footage from witnesses made it online despite the NYPD's best efforts, and all anyone saw when watching it wasn’t a criminal resisting, but a victim on his knees, clutching his chest, begging please, please, I have a heart condition, I have a pacemaker, before the cop shocked him again. And again. Until he wasn’t on his knees but prone on the ground, gone still and silent.

The officer was reinstated after a paid leave six days ago. The DA declined to prosecute. 

And yesterday, the innocent man, having spent weeks in a coma induced by heart failure, was declared dead.

Frank looks Karen hard in the eye, an unflinching stare that says he knows she understands. She puts her face in her hands.

“There’s shitstorm coming, isn’t there?” she says.

“Probably.”

She shakes her head, drops it into her hands again. She can feel him watching her. A minute ticks by. Maybe two.

“Karen.”

She lifts her eyes just enough to meet his.

“You feel you gotta do something with this?” he asks. It neither a judgement nor a threat. She worries her lip for a moment before answering.

“This person you know of,” she says slowly, “they won’t implicate you?”

“No.”

“And do you know enough of their plan that you could stop them? Tip someone off?”

He takes a long drink, holding her with those deep inkdark eyes, and for the first time, he lies to her.

“No. Nothing.”

She knows it’s a lie. She knows he wants her to know. She could call him on it and he wouldn’t deny it. But she doesn’t. 

All she says is “then I guess there’s nothing we could do,” holding his eyes while she speaks, making sure he understands what’s happening here.

Frank nods. It’s enough.

Karen looks away, stares at her hands folded in front of her, tracing the patterns of veins under pale skin.

After a moment she asks, “would you like anything stronger?”

Frank looks at her with cool appraisal that says what he won’t out loud—that somehow, on some level, he helped with what’s to come. And he knows she’s letting him get away with it.

“No thanks,” he says. “But you go ahead.”

And she does. She falls asleep beside him on the couch, drunk with her head resting on his shoulder, sometime after 4:30, an economy bottle of wine that started full and is now half gone still out on the coffee table.

On Monday, Ellison will ask her to look into the story of a body found charred beyond recognition in an NYPD patrol car.

She’ll tell him there was nothing she could dig up, and never mention it again. 

[where-all-the-time-went]

The Character-Based Reasons Why Sara Chidouin Has the Highest Win Likelihood

So, okay. We all know Nankidai is, first and foremost, a writer. Don’t get me wrong, the art and gameplay are nice, and the music is... there, but Your Turn to Die is fantastic because of the game’s thematic consistency and incredible characters. Which is why the idea that Sara wins so often because she is so trustworthy and is a great leader always seemed like a very barebones analysis to me. Sure, it makes sense, but what would Nankidai convey through that? There’s definitely a message about trust that is implied, that trusting makes a person stronger, but Sara does not initially trust everyone, and not everyone trusts her. Every single character has plenty of people who don’t trust them and who they don’t trust. If anyone is good at working with and trusting people, it’s Reko (even despite her conflict with Alice), who becomes the big sister to this cast of characters. (BTW: this is a really long post. If you don’t want to read it all, scroll to the end and there’s a TL;DR).

So then, for what thematic reason is Sara so likely to win?

Personally, I would attribute her survival rate to another common theme throughout the game: her balance between prioritizing her own survival and that of the rest of the players. While Sara would never truly give her Sacrifice card to someone else, it’s doubtful that she would take the Sacrifice card to save anyone either. No other character has a similar inner balance, except Kanna in the Kanna Lives route (to be perfectly honest, I have not played the Shin lives route because I’m terrified of killing Kanna, so my knowledge may be lacking). Anyway, I am going to go down the list of characters and talk about why they’re not Sara, which I know everyone is just really, really, excited to hear (please don’t fall asleep). (Also not including dolls since our information on them is very limited at the moment).

I’m starting with the absolute worst person to start with: Joe Tazuna. He may not be a candidate, but he is still a character who dies and is thus worthy of an explanation. While he may have procrasinated to reveal that he was the Sacrifice, it was never truly a battle with Joe on whether to sacrifice himself. In the end, he will always prioritize everyone else’s survival. If there was a battle, it was between whether to save Sara right then and there or let everyone else survive, and although his connection to Sara is personal, this is still not self-prioritization.

Then there’s Keiji Shinogi (yes, I’m going by the Wiki order and you can’t stop me). At first, it may seem that logical, levelheaded Keiji prioritizes himself, but in Chapter 3 1-A, he readily accepts the tag if it means saving Sara. Keiji is traumatized by his own guilt, and thus does not seem to consider himself worthy of survival, unless it means being the smart one and thinking where no one else does. He may not have traded for Sara’s Sacrifice card in the Second Main Game, but it’s unclear whether he was planning to before Kanna took it herself (or rather, tried to). I theorize now that Keiji will have a say about his own death in Chapter 3 1-B, and it will depend on whether he is able to balance his own needs with the needs of everyone else.

Which brings me to Kanna Kizuchi, who I think has the most interesting arc in this regard. When the game begins, Kanna is extremely frightened, and we don’t really get to know her priorities since she is most definitely not thinking straight. As Kanna matures and developed into her own character, in spite of Sou’s suggestions to her, we learn she prioritizes other people’s surival over her own when she attempts to take Sara’s Sacrifice card. Now, this is where the disclaimer of “I Have not Played the Shin Lives Route” comes in extra handy, because I expect criticism here. Anyway, given that Sara logically wants to survive, and there are even character reasons to vote for Kanna (her being more ready for death), it seems very likely Sara would vote for Kanna, which would explain her extremely low 2.7% survival rate. This is a reflection of Kanna’s unshaking will to prioritize others’ survival over her own. However, when Shin dies, Kanna realizes she should never again attempt to sacrifice herself (particularly because he became a role model for her), and she begins, just like Sara, to find a balance, wherein she puts herself in danger only when logically necessary, while also caring for everyone else. As a result, and this is very shaky ground, I am putting forth that there are either no routes, or very few routes, from here on out, where Kanna dies. (The one thing I will say about this theory is that it partially contradicts my theory that the game cannot be a simulation because they would not simulate Gashu’s betrayal. While my argument mainly revolves around the metanarrative of prioritization of lives other than one’s own, these themes are reflected within the non-meta of the game itself, wherein Asunaro specifically tailors who receives the Sacrifice, Keymaster, and Sage cards. As a result, Kanna’s character arc revolving around surviving the Second Main Game makes no sense if she would have been the Sacrifice in the first place if not for Gashu. Although, her low win rate could be tied to the high likelihood that she would take Sara’s Sacrifice card).

Well, now that I’m off my tangent, let’s focus on Q-Taro. At the beginning of the game, Q-Taro, while not the brightest, takes a cold and logical approach. He is willing to sacrifice literal children--Kanna and Gin--because he doesn’t think they’re useful enough. However, his character flips (pun intended) when he presses the button and takes the poison for Gin. Q-Taro realizes that trust and self-sacrifice are noble traits, and he comes to prioritize them over his own survival, as he put his life on the line when he took the poison, when a lower dosage earlier would have been the more logical way to keep him and Gin alive. Q-Taro’s arc is intersting, but unlike Kanna, who becomes a reasonable person, his values flip entirely, particularly because his change was likely planned by Asunaro.

Then you have Shin. I don’t know what he does when he lives, and I have a whole theory about Shin’s 0.0% win rate, which I will possibly write some day and link in later, but I do have some stuff to say about his own character balance. It’s obvious that because of his fear of the win rates, Shin comes to prioritize his own life, despite all irrationality therein. He manipulates and lies for his own survival, mainly out of fear. When Shin realizes that Sara killed him instead of killing Kanna, as she prioritizes emotion over logic, he realizes that maybe he could have trusted her after all, and to die with as few regrets as possible, he gives her the Joe AI. This character change sounds like it contradicts my theory, but given that, at this point, Shin was pretty much already dead, it’s simply an interesting change within him that is representative of the theme of Your Turn to Die. Furthermore, I subscribe to the theory that Shin’s low win rate is a direct result of knowing he has a low win rate (fun bootstrap paradox times (Beethoven’s Fifth plays on electric guitar)), because this causes his self-preservation.

I mentioned Reko earlier, but I think this only needs a brief explanation (important note: I have only played the Reko dies route). Prior to the Death Game, while Alice was in jail, Reko learned that the “weak” do not deserve what’s coming to them. This indirectly causes her own kindness to Nao and Kanna in the Death Game. (Come to think of it, I don’t think this one’s going to be as brief as I thought). Reko enters the death game a changed woman, who already prioritizes the lives of others, and thus is entirely imbalanced. The fact that her past self kills her is beautifaly symbolic of why she died: because she could not balance her priorities, where she only cares about others now (which is why Nao saved modern Reko), and only really cared about herself in the past (because she thought that the “weak” did not deserve her help). As a result, in an act of pure selfishness, the AI, which has Reko’s past personality, kills human Reko. If modern Reko had been more balanced, perhaps she could have explained to Nao why it would make more logical sense to save the Reko AI.

And it’s perfect that Nao should come next. In general, Nao does not think for herself. Not until her suggestion that Sara should run away with her at the end of the Second Main Game did she do anything other than follow earliers or force herself into certain situations. This, of course, relates to the juxtaposition between her and Sara, who is a natural leader. However, it explains why there is not much to say about Nao other than the fact that she is so far removed from the issue of self-sacrifice vs. self-preservation.

Everything Kai did, up until his death, was to protect Sara. His job was to be her bodyguard, and Sara is the person who saved Kai from a life of murder. Kai dies because his silence in his efforts to protect Sara prevented a proper discussion over whether it was worth it to kill the Sage simply because they were the Sage.

Gin Ibushi, much like Kanna, started the game by prioritiznig the lives of others. Unlike Kanna, he did not change, particularly because there was no narrative reason for his change. Even when Gin was about to die, it was up to Q-Taro to decide between self-sacrifice and self-preservation. However, when Gin and Q-Taro were up on the targets, this was a symbolic message to Sara: you must choose between the self-preserving tendencies of Q-Taro and the self-sacrificing tendencies of Gin, who gave out his tokens for free, unaware of the consequences. While Gin has yet to die, his steadfast hold on his self-sacrificing beliefs would explain why his win rate is lower even than Kanna’s.

Gin would often cling to father figures due to his dad’s alcohol addiction, and Mishima was the first to experience this treatment. Mishima cared for Gin, but he knew Nao best, and his instruction that she vote for him would cause his death, because Mishima sacrificed himself for Nao. Mishima is interesting, because his self-sacrifice is less a result of a hope for everyone’s survival, and more about his desire for people to improve as human beings. He tells Nao to give him up when he is an AI, and instructs Reko to break his screen. Although Mishima is perhaps more self-sacrificng than Gin, his understanding of teaching others how to care about themselves is likely why his win rate is higher than both Gin’s and Kanna’s. This may also be a result of the fact that he is older and more capable, but his strange quirks also make him less trustworthy than both Gin and Kanna, which cancels his capabilities out. Thus his self-sacrificing beliefs would kill him, even if his understanding of self-preservation decreases the likelihood of his death.

Last but not least of the non-Sara characters, we have Alice Yabusame. Now, on this one, I am probably missing the most information, since I have absolutely no idea how he dies in the route where Reko survives. However, I can say that in the route where he survives, despite his understanding at the beginning of Chapter 2 that Reko had changed, he was unable to accept that the unchanged Reko was not human. This implies that Alice wants a version of Reko who both cares for others and values strength, suggesting a need for balance. I also know this is a big change from his attitude towards the beginning, where he believes that everyone should be as self-preserving as possible, and not get in anyone else’s way. The fact that Alice has to die to accept Reko’s change (I think???), it makes sense that his self-preserving tendencies would place him in the bottom half of win rates. Again, this theory is weakened by my ignorance.

Joe’s likely inevitable death contributes to Sara’s fear of the Sacrifice card, which perfectly balances her lack of desire to manipulate others with her desire to preserve herself. Sara is also often given the choice between wanting to win or escape with everyone, and the fact that character moments often hinge on her response illustrates Nankidai’s thematic goals. The choice between Shin and Kanna’s deaths, while about emotion and logic, are also about choosing between preserving oneself (voting for Kanna, who cannot contribute to Sara’s survival) and preserving others (Kanna is TOO YOUNG TO DIE). I do not mean to suggest that saving Kanna was necessarilly the “correct route.” Quite the opposite, in fact. I mean to suggest that the fact that Sara is presented this choice and that she does not have an immediate answer is exactly why she is so likely to win.

TL;DR i drone on about how sara is special and not like other characters, and how she cares about people but also about herself, so that’s the theme and stuff. there’s also a long, pretentious rant about the symbolism of reko’s death. and a doctor who reference. there’s also a weird amount of parantheses.

(credit to @sip-of-depresso for having the conversation with me which sparked this theory)