#i hardly ever let anyone read my stuff but i refuse to let fear get in the way 🫡

[thevastnessof]

HELLO, as part of my new year I want to start at least semi consistently writing amd posting it, so I made a sideblog for it @thetomes!

[luxwritesfanfic]

Definitely Not Your Color

In true Sherlock fashion, he shows you exactly why green isn’t his color. Or, the one where reader can read auras and Sherlock is going through it at the sight of her new friend. AU!Bucky makes an appearance because I can’t live without him. Enjoy!

Sherlock Holmes/Reader

You were stood off to the side of the crime scene recounting your conversation with the last witness of the night. There had been yet another murder and Lestrade had requested Sherlock’s help for what seemed to be a serial killer in the making. Two murders in less than a week and Sherlock was thrilled and it was easy to tell. An array of yellows and subtle oranges surrounded him, engulfed him, as he explained how vacant Scotland Yard truly could be and how quickly he had figured out the killer’s M.O. He shined like the sun, and you swore you saw tendrils of sunlight shoot off of his fingers as he analyzed every aspect of the scene before him. All confidence, he paraded around the crime scene in a way you knew so well, pointing out things that even after working with him for months that you wouldn’t of picked up on. He was happy to be working again, to be playing, no, winning the game once more. 

You were thankful no one else saw his colors like you did. Because as sure as you were that he was what they meant when they said, “let there be light!”, you were sure that others would gravitate towards him even more until it got to a point that there was so much in between the two of you that you would only be able to see his shine from between the cracks of other people.

Pulling you out of your thoughts of Sherlock and things that you couldn’t control, you turned your head at the sound of someone’s throat clearing.

“He’s seriously brilliant.” An officer who you hadn’t recognized before stood behind you, holding his cap in his hands and drumming his fingers along the rim. He looked past you to where Sherlock and John were, a laugh slipped out from under his breath. “Makes it look so easy.”

Your lips twitched at the statement, a warmth you knew too well for your liking spreading around you. If anyone else could see you, really see you, you’d surely be figured out. Sherlock Holmes was a great man, you were sure of it. He was as intelligent as they came and as handsome as the devil, and sure— sometimes he could be rude, and maybe a little ignorant, and sometimes you really wanted to slap the smirk off of his face when playing Cluedo (Because, Sherlock, it can’t be the victim!) but you wouldn’t change him. 

They told you not to stare at the sun but you couldn’t help it. You needed to see what was really there because you refused to believe that a man who couldn’t feel a thing made the world look that vivid. You were the moth and he was the flame and if that meant dying a painful death just to bask in everything that he was, so be it. Evidently, there were worse ways to die.

Stealing one last glance like you couldn’t help yourself, you shoved your notebook and pen in your purse and made your way back to your conversation.

“He really is. You’re new, right? Lestrade mentioned he had some new guys joining the force. Can’t say you didn’t have an interesting first week.” You wanted to lighten the mood as much as you could because you knew this wasn’t an easy crime to see. You still couldn’t look at the body too long yourself without feeling the black sit heavy in your stomach.

“Don’t worry ma’am, I can handle it.” As if he read your mind, he gave you a warm smile and nodded. “My father, he, uh, he was an officer as well. Started me with the bad stuff early. Said it would give me a little more character and a lot more advantage. There’s not too much that can scare me away, I don’t think.”

You returned his smile. He was a cool blue, and it matched his eyes perfectly. It looked good on him, you decided. “Good. London needs all the help that we can get. Oh- I’m Y/N, by the way! I work with Sherlock and John sometimes. I’m not a genius or a doctor but I can take damn good notes.” And at that you both laughed, as he reassured you that the boys would have nothing to study from if it wasn’t for you. In turn it made you laugh even harder when you realized he hadn’t got the chance to see Sherlock visit his Mind Palace yet, where everything you could offer him he already had.

“It’s nice to meet you. I’m James, but I hardly ever use my government if I don’t have to. Please, call me Bucky.” He reached his hand out to you and shook yours, that boyish smile never leaving his lips. From behind you, you could tell subconsciously that it had gotten significantly darker. Like a light had went out. You didn’t think enough of it to turn around and investigate it.

---

You found it was easy to talk to Bucky and you had more things in common than you could have expected. He was polite and seemed to have seriously believed that you were an integral part of the team that he needed to get to know. You appreciated his kindness and how friendly he was, and it seemed like more than anything he was grateful you were giving him a chance to belong. You couldn’t figure out why.

It just so happens that from the angle you were looking, you saw Sherlock’s shoes before you saw his face. It looked like moss had grown through the concrete and saturated him so thoroughly that you thought he wouldn’t soon be able to move. It made you uneasy how sickly the green made him look. You had never seen this color on him before.

“If I knew all you were going to do was stand around and disregard everything I say, I would have brought Molly instead. She listens. Intently.” Sherlock spat and cut his eyes at you before looking to Bucky and giving him a once over before digging in. 

“Generally, they say to try again and again if you fail. I would think that wouldn’t apply to something like the police academy. Third, no... fourth times the charm as they say?” The green fog spilled out of Sherlock’s mouth and continued to cover him, wrapping so tightly around his body that you thought he might have trouble breathing. Even though you were standing a few good feet away from him, you could feel how heavy the fog had made you, and you worried for Sherlock as it encompassed him. You almost made to reach for him because you were afraid you’d lose him under all the smoke.  

“You’re a favored drop out who still lives with his mother, no, father. That’s where the drinking problem comes from I assume? One failed relationship too many and now suddenly your calling is keeping the streets clean of the people you used to run them with. Now, I know Lestrade has horrible taste when it comes to putting together a team but tell me, how did he get so lucky as to stumble across you? It can’t be the... no wait, it is because of-“

“Sherlock!” You say exasperatedly, looking at him like he’s he’s got three heads when you can’t even see the one he’s got as it is. He is solid and dark and lost in this feeling that you can’t name and he’s not him. Well, he is him, but weighed down so much by whatever he’s trying to carry through that you can’t imagine he’s acting this hateful for no reason. You refuse to believe it.

Bucky sighed and somehow still managed to twitch his lips upwards, a ghost of the grin he wore before. “Well, Mr. Holmes, you are what they say you are. Brilliant for sure. Hell, you haven’t even spoken a word to me prior and you know my life.” You were shocked to see Bucky’s reaction, most people would of blacked out on Sherlock for an outburst like that and this one definitely warranted it. “You’re right, about all of those things. I guess I’m just trying to play the best game I can with the hand I was dealt. I’m not one for feeling sorry for myself.” He straightened up and fastened his cap back on as he caught eyes with Lestrade and returned a knowing nod. 

Turning to you, Bucky grinned as if it never phased him, like he had grown used to being talked down on. The blue never left him and that made you happy. You didn’t want him to feel bad.

“Goodnight, Y/N. I look forward to speaking with you again. Mr. Holmes.” With that, he bid you both a good night and headed towards his team.

“Sherlock,” you murmured when you turned back to face him. The fog was so dark that you couldn’t make out his features anymore. You felt the fear creeping up your neck while you were trying to figure out what was so wrong with him. “What’s wrong with you? I figured you’d be happy that you practically solved the case...?” 

You saw it, he had been happy. And then you remembered his earlier comment about Molly. Maybe he wished she was here instead to celebrate his win with him.

“Listen... if this is about Molly, you know you can always ask her to tag along instead. I don’t want you to feel... obligated to invite me. She’s probably more useful in a situation like this anyway.” 

You felt yourself internally deflate as you spoke, but you were able to make out Sherlock’s face once more under the city lights. The green began to thin out. He must’ve been relieved at your confession, you thought.

Sherlock visibly tensed for a second before quickly masking it under an air of nonchalance.

“I could care less about Molly or what she’s good for. All I care about is the work and that it gets done. You know that.”

You watched as time passed and you could start seeing more of him. You realized you’d been holding your breath for some time waiting for the green to dissipate and set your detective free. Sherlock was back with you, and whatever feeling tried to take him away from you was lost now. That’s all that mattered.

And, of course, because there were still pressing matters to finish attending to, your moment with Sherlock didn’t last long. You swore something had changed within him. Something you couldn’t name just yet.

You weren’t totally quite convinced that whatever had happened between you two back there wasn’t about Molly, or some strange feeling that Sherlock was having that he’d surely never talk about. Even still you continued to follow after him wherever he asked you to go, as he still always asked you to go. 

And if he happened to stand a little closer to you the next time you worked alongside Scotland Yard, you were none the wiser.

[justaniche]

Hey! I’m dying for more Daxton. I seriously can’t wait for season 2. Can you write something about Nalini realizing Paxton is good for Devi? Like he takes care of her/protects her and helps her deal with her trauma

Thanks!!

Hi!

omg let me say first, anon, thank you for this ask. youre the first person to take me up on my offer to write stuff for you so thank you again.

A little bit about this writing piece before I actually show it to you, there was a point when I was writing it when I wasn’t sure if it was going to reach 1K words but there was a point where the words just start to flow and I can proudly say it is 2.1K and that is not a lot but based on what I thought it was going to end up being it has come along way. and this is one of my first-ish never have I ever work of writing. I think it’s the first I’ve written entirely off the top of my head. My other ones are either not posted or it’s my work inspired by the episodes and its just everything through Paxton‘s point of view so it’s a bit different.

this is getting sort of long so anyway, without further ado. here it is. I hope you enjoy it, please let me know what you think and if you like it please feel free to send me another!

Nalini had just about had it. The day’s raging dumpster fire began with traffic that resulted in her being late to work. If that wasn’t bad enough, a patient she saw a couple days ago came back complaining that her treatment caused a breakout. After a follow-up, she discovered the patient hadn’t changed any of their habits despite her advice! So was it really the treatment, or the fact that they don’t wash their face? All that suffices to say when Nalini got home she was already on a very short fuse. Kamala was out for school and let her family know she wouldn’t be home for dinner so it was known by both Devi and Nalini that they would be cooking without her today. Nalini gave Devi specific instructions so that, regardless of how late her day ran, they could have dinner at a reasonable time. Devi did not follow those instructions. Nalini came home to the door unlocked, closed but unlocked, the house a mess, and Devi’s part of dinner not made. No matter how many breaths she took, Nalini was mad. No, mad didn’t quite cover it. She silently walked up the stairs, hell-bent on seeing what caused this disaster, and if she didn’t like the reason she planned to riff for the rest of the night. But approaching Devi’s door she found it ajar. She peeked inside, and that's where she found them.

After winning his swim meet, Paxton was on top of the world. The school day had been what it tended to be, light. Filled with class and hanging with his friends in the hotpocket. But that was hours ago. It was early evening when he saw her, Devi Vishwakumar, they had sort of become friends over recent weeks but given the up and down nature of their relationship, Paxton was always very aware of her. Devi had a way of grabbing Paxton’s attention. He was always trying to figure her out. Of course she made a hell of a first impression, first couple of impressions actually. Devi was sorely different from anyone else in his circle and Paxton wasn’t yet sure how he felt about the sudden invasion. He pretended he didn’t but after unintentionally watching her Paxton began to notice Devi’s change in mood sometimes. Like right now, from where Paxton was he saw the set of her shoulders. The tension was apparent as Devi stalked across the school grounds. Confusion flooded Paxton’s mind and before another thought could register, he was jogging towards her.

“ Hey, Vishwakumar, wait up! ” He called towards her but she didn’t stop

Devi cast a look over her shoulder, her voice was muffled when she spoke, “Uh, Hi Paxton, I can’t talk.” her voice cracks, “I’m in a bit of a rush.”

Paxton slows down for a second as he takes in the situation, Devi speeds up.

“Are you okay?”

Devi breaks into a dead sprint and Paxton doesn’t think, he just follows.

Devi was doing okay. Today was harder than most for a reason she couldn’t name but Devi was making it through. That was until last period art class. The teacher gave a simple assignment, and that was to paint your happiest memory. Immediately when the words left his mouth, a memory came flooding into Devi's mind like a tidal wave.

Devi was 8 when her father convinced her mother that going to a Californian beach as a family would be an adventure. Devi barely remembers the build-up, it was a haze of packing sandwiches and equipment. Leaving the house, only to discover something had been forgotten. A car ride that seemed to stretch into forever. But the beach was magnificent. At least it was in Devi’s memory. It was a gloomy day, the threat of rain looming, so the beach’s visitors were far and few in between. Devi remembers that feeling of warm sand under her feet. She remembers those first fragile steps into the tide, only to rush back as the ocean crashed forward chasing her back to shore. She could see her mom, in the distance, setting up their makeshift camp for the day. She was more content watching her family than participating. The ocean was vast and blue and terrifying. Devi could not urge herself to take more than a few steps. Devi doesn’t know how her dad saw her distress but it was like he could read her mind. He grabbed her and lifted her high then settled Devi on his shoulders. He insisted that she was safe there, she was too high for the ocean to ever reach. He held her hand as he walked slowly but confidently further into the waves. He stopped just as the water kissed her mid-calf but it was enough. From way up here, with her father by her side, the ocean wasn’t anything to fear, it was something to marvel at.

Devi had a firm picture in her mind of her happiest memory and it was her family’s adventure at the beach. But Devi couldn’t make a move to make this image a reality. Sadness crept up on her and got a vice grip on her heart. Her vision blurred and she couldn’t breathe. How had she ever breathed before? Was it always this hard? The bell rang, signaling the end of the day but Devi was on autopilot. Eleanor and Fabiola felt miles away, whenever they’d focus in the daze of her mind, the grip on her heart tightened and dragged her back to darkness. Devi doesn’t know if she said goodbye to her best friends,

She blinked, band began

She inhaled, band was over

She stood, the sun was setting

She gazed, the stress stiffened her movements as she walked around campus. Where was she headed?

Devi was desperate for light, for clarity.

“ Hey, Vishwakumar, wait up! ” The sudden noise broke the muddle, if only for now, she was again aware of the devastation and loss weighing on her mind and on her heart.

She recognized that voice and it was getting closer, she glanced over her shoulder. Paxton, no no no, she didn’t want anyone to see this least of all her newest and most popular friend, “Uh, Hi Paxton, I can’t talk.” Why was her voice cracking? “I’m in a bit of a rush.”

Devi finally knew where she wanted to go as she increased her speed.

“Are you okay?” Paxton’s question was the final straw, she couldn’t stop her tears and they fell uncontrollably past her cheeks. Paxton was going to catch up, and Devi was crumbling by the second. So Devi did the only thing she could. She ran, ignoring the echo of the beating steps behind her.

Nalini could hardly comprehend the scene playing in front of her. Devi, her only child, her entire world, looked so small folded up on the floor in front of her bed. Devi was always so strong, with a personality larger than life. She always seemed bigger than her stature, always taking up more space. Nalini's anger from the day deflates, leaving no trace it was ever there to begin with. Nalini tears her eyes away from the form of her daughter to take in the room. It was dark but the other figure inhabiting the room was clear as day. Paxton sat before Devi, his body language soft. He had one hand on the arms Devi wrapped around herself as he spoke to her gently. Paxton’s volume was soft as a whisper, any louder would shatter the delicate atmosphere. Witnessing this scene felt like a secret and the longer Nalini stood there the guiltier she felt. Devi never expressed emotions this deeply to her. Everyday problems with her friends or tests or Ben Gross, yes. But Devi never shared this.

Nalini's mind was going a million miles an hour as he crept back down the steps and began cooking dinner. She knew Devi would refuse but she needed to have something ready, just in case. When everything was mostly done, she was quiet as she moved around the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on the meal. Nalini knew he was trying to walk silently but she still caught Paxton as he descended the steps. Nalini kept her back to him as she called, giving Paxton an out if he needed.

“Paxton?”

“Um...yes, Hi Mrs. Vishwakumar” at the acknowledgment, Nalini felt comfortable enough to turn around.

Paxton was standing in the doorway, shuffling in obvious discomfort. What he expected her to say she didn’t know. Gods, neither did Nalini. Questions flew through her mind faster than she could catch them. She didn’t want to ask him about what happened, Nalini wanted Devi to share when, if, she was ready. Nalini realized, amongst these questions, that she didn’t know Paxton. Here was this kid, late in the evening comforting her daughter. She couldn’t even be upset that they were home alone when she recalled how broken Devi looked. All Nalini had done thus far was judge Paxton, he looked like a jock so she thought him dumb. She made these assumptions about him, that he’d peak in high school or that he was shallow or that he was a walking STI, but they were just that. Assumptions. This kid stayed with her daughter for she didn’t even know how long, she’d been cooking for close to an hour so it was at least that.

All these guesses and judgments were useless when she stood in front of him. Paxton had a rigid set to his limbs, Nalini thought it was probably from sitting in one position for so long, and he was still dressed in gym clothes. Paxton looked new in Nalini’s eyes and she regretted never wanting to know him before now. Nalini didn’t know where to begin, she wondered if he’d eaten.

“Would you like something to eat?” Nalini's silent prayer must’ve been heard because he accepted. She was being given another chance. She quickly worked around the familiar space, grabbing one of the good containers and piling more food than necessary, successfully straining the unyielding plastic. She was handing the meal over when she paused, they both had a hand on the object between them but Nalini couldn’t let go, not yet.

“Thank you, Paxton, really, I don’t know what happened and I won’t ask but I saw what you did for Devi.” Paxton had the decency to look a little shocked. He hadn’t heard anything. Paxton was too absorbed before. His mind was a broken record repeating only, Devi.

The moment shatters when the front door opened, “I’m home!” Kamala’s voice fills the silent home. With the trance broken, Nalini’s hold on the container falters and she drops her hand allowing Paxton to leave. Words were failing him so all Paxton could give was a tightlipped smile in response.

“Thanks for the dinner.” Paxton’s smile was looser now and that gave Nalini courage.

Kamala was unloaded the day around her but Nalini was focused on making this right, “You’re welcome to come by Paxton, anytime.” She could only hope Paxton knew just how much she meant those words. His smile was burdened but bright, he nodded strongly and then he was out the door.

Kamala was fixing the table for a very late dinner when she called for Devi to join, Nalini hoped she would. “Who was that? And why was he here so late?” Pure curiosity laced Kamala’s voice.

“Paxton is one of Devi’s friends. He’s a good kid.”

Those details were all she could provide before Devi came bouncing down the steps. Nalini couldn’t be sure if it was the fact of what she saw or reality but Devi’s movements looked heavier than they normally were.

“What’s up guys?” Devi’s voice feigned casualness, “Dang mom, isn’t it late for a thousand-course meal?” She questioned as she took in the lack of clear surfaces on the dinner table.

Nalini just brushed it off, indicating for everyone to take a seat. “So how was everyone’s day?”

Nalini wasn’t looking for Devi to share but this was her family. She would always want to hear how they were, plus it was tradition. As they consumed insane amounts of food they were bound to regret eating this late at night, everything felt so normal and easy. But something had shifted in Nalini today and even though it was new and she was scared to death of this person entering Devi’s life with the propensity to hurt her. Nalini can’t say she minded too much because it was Paxton. He had proven himself worthy of a chance, and Nalini wouldn’t soon forget it.

[tooweirdforyou]

Straw Hats With A Shipmate! Who Lost Someone Special

A/N : For anyone who has lost someone dear to them, whether it was recently or long ago, it’ll be okay. There are times where we either hate ourselves, hold regret, or refuse to accept the reality, but no matter what, we have to accept the truth. These things happen and we have to deal with it. I know some of us like to bottle these feelings up instead of letting it all out. But I just want to say that it’s okay to let it out. Don’t keep the pain to yourself because it’s not going to make things better. Let it all out and bring peace to yourself some day. Everything will be okay.

Warning : mentions of death, negative, heartbreaking thoughts, etc. + MARINEFORD SPOILERS.

Note : I don’t expect you to read this, nor do I expect you to appreciate this. I don’t know my readers, so I don’t know how sensitive some of you are. I don’t normally write this kind of stuff either, hopefully this is the only time you’ll see this.

of course this will have a sweet ending.

This is also pretty long.

Summary : The crew witnesses their crew mate’s loss of a loved one, and notice that their shipmate is acting as if everything’s fine. They won’t accept that.

-

Everything was peaceful.

The crew was just sailing around the seas for a bit, enjoying their time together after two years apart from each other.

After Fishman Island, the others were just taking a breather and relaxing.

However, you knew that your home island was nearby. 

You wanted to visit it, which the crew agreed, since it let them experience your island and perhaps learn about where you came from.

Unfortunately, you didn’t know how horrible things have been since you were gone.

Nor did you ever expect to see someone so dear to you, die right before your eyes.

-

When you docked at the island, instead of a warm aura and a homely greeting from the civilians, the island was in ruins.

There was hardly anybody around, and the people that were still there, were all weak and barely alive.

Nothing was right, nor was anything left. Buildings in ruin and destroyed, fields and trees of the forests were burned and there was blood shed all over the ground.

Nothing could be seen but blood. It was truly a horrific sight to be seen.

The crew mates all stare at the sight in horror and shock.

After hearing your stories of how beautiful and amazing the island was and how kind the people were, they were definitely not expecting to see the opposite it was.

“Oi, this isn’t anything like you described. You sure we’re on the right island?” Luffy mindlessly comments, the others staring at Luffy like he was an idiot, Usopp clearly stating it aloud. “Oi, Luffy! Don’t say things so bluntly!”

You, ahead of the group and had an expression of fear and horror written all over, just snap back into reality and turn to Luffy, seeing the others staring at you.

“..I was thinking the same, Luffy.” You weakly smile as a forceful chuckle escaped your lips, you rubbing the back of your neck awkwardly. “I guess things can change when time passes.”

“Maybe we are on the wrong island..”

You weren’t. You knew you weren’t. This was the place where you were born and raised.

Although it was completely destroyed, you recognized some of what was left in the rubble, even some of the old people that were barely hanging on.

Your words were heard, the others noticed how quiet it was and already understood the truth. Something happened while you were away from home, and it wasn’t good from the looks of it.

“[Name]-chan... we don’t have to-“ Sanji starts but you only smile lightly at the crew. “It’s fine. Before we go back to the ship,.. can we look around a bit? It’ll be quick.”

They knew what you meant and what you wanted to do, all of them nodding. “Of course, take as long as you need. There’s no rush.” Robin assures softly, Nami nodding in agreement. “We’re here if you need anything.”

You nod at them and continue to lead the group through the streets, them following you in silence as Luffy kept his eyes on you.

You heard some of the groans and noise of discomfort and pain from the ones who were on the brink of death, your head lowering down as you bit your lip, trying to ignore them.

As much as you wanted to run to them and help them any way you can, you somehow already knew it was useless.

Whatever happened while you were gone, it was too damaging to be fixed. The many bodies that were spread across the town made sure of that.

In the back with the crew, you hear Brook, Usopp and Chopper freaking out every once in a while at the sight of the bodies, Sanji and Nami mentioning about feeling a bit sick and just shocked at the sight of them, while Franky, Luffy, Robin and Zoro all stare silently, many thoughts running through their head.

There was one thought they all had in common.

Just what the hell happened?

You continue to walk with your head down, before noticing an all too familiar house and look up, beginning to jog over towards it, a hopeful look in your eyes.

“W-Wait, [Name]!” Usopp calls at the others try to catch up. You ignore him and sprint towards what was left of the home and slam the door open accidentally.

“[ Special Someone ]!” You call out a bit too loudly, looking out frantically for them. “[ Special Someone ]! It’s [Name]!”

A small hum could be heard in another room, you rushing over just as the others arrived at the home.

You ran over and widen your eyes at the sight of them. [ Special Someone ] was leaning against the wall, breathing slow with many cuts and dried blood all over them.

Their clothes stained with the red liquid and the entire house was a wreck, with smashed furniture and shattered glass all over.

“[ Special Someone ]!” You shout in disbelief and horror, unable to process anything as you lunge yourself to the one person who was always by your side.

“[Name]..?..” they breathed out, weakly forcing themselves to sit upright more, you aiding them carefully, as their arms rested in their lap.

“Wow.. I can’t believe it.. how.. lucky.. I get to see you?..” [ Special Someone ] coughs out roughly, spitting a bit of blood out onto their hand as they did so making you even more shocked.

The crew enters the room with eyes wide as saucers. “[Name]?” Nami questions, mouth gaped at the sight of you kneeling beside a person on the brink of death.

Tears brimmed your eyes as you turn to Chopper pleadingly. “Chopper, please, help them!” You cry out with a shout, Chopper’s teary shocked eyes widening more as he nods quickly and rushed over with his bag.

Chopper sits on the other side of [ Special Someone ], opening his bag and grabbing out the proper supplies.

“[Na..me].. stop, I’m fine. There’s nothing.. you can do.” They insisted, turning to Chopper with a weak smile. “A rein..deer?.. how cute..” Chopper didn’t say anything as he continued to do his work, quickly examining the injuries they had before patching them up.

“Shut up, [ Special Someone ], Chopper’s going to help you, okay?! Now, tell me who did this to you?” You say, clasping their hand in yours as they cough once more and tilt their head back.

The others could only watch in silence with sad, concerned or pitiful looks at the sight, assuming that this person was someone so dear to you. They didn’t know who it was but they knew enough.

“... Marines..”

Everyone tensed at the word, a few of them in disbelief. Marines did this?

You didn’t say anything, your grip on their hand tightening as you chew on your inner cheek. “Marines, huh?...”

“If you don’t mind me asking, how long ago did this happen?” Robin cautiously and slowly asks, [ Special Someone ] looking up at her.

They look away and flinch at bit at Chopper’s work as they whisper out an answer. “.. one week.”

No one expected that. Everyone’s eyes widened even more. One week!?

“S-seriously?! This happened one week ago?!” Brook shouts incredulously, Usopp trembling in his shoes. “T-This happened while we were on our way here?!”

Your breath hitched in your throat, your body frozen and completely lost in thought. This..happened.. in a week?..

You.. You could have done something.. if you just got here faster? You could have prevented all of this, if you just arrived sooner?

No, you couldn’t blame yourself. How could you have known? You weren’t at fault, right? Right?

“[Name]. It’s okay..” [ Special Someone ] turns to you with the all too familiar smile of theirs, it was a weak one, but it was still the same.

“Fate has it twisted sometimes, but it’s never wrong. If fate had this in its destined path for me, then I have to accept it. If I must die, I’m happy to have died being able to see you one last time.” They managed to speak out in one breath, forcing their smile wider.

[ Special Someone ] notices Chopper moving away from him slowly with saddened and regretful eyes. They knew the result and reason for it already.

You chose to ignore their words and scoff, feeling tears brimming your eyes. “Stop talking like that, it’s not time for you yet. It’s not too late. Right Chopper?!” You look up with teary eyes at the small reindeer.

“You can save them, right!? It’s not too late!”

Chopper would look down, pulling his hat down to cover his face as his lips trembled and quivered a bit. “[Name], I—“

“Chopper! You’re supposed to be the best doctor I know, so please, tell me it’s not too late!” You cried out, turning to look at the others.

The others already knew the answer too just from the look of Chopper and how weak [ Special Someone ] was quickly getting.

“Franky? Usopp? Zoro?” You call out to them, receiving no answer and just sad looks of pity and sorrow.

“Luffy!” You call out to your captain desperately, seeing his head tilted down with his hat shadowing his face.

“Everyone.. WHY AREN’T YOU ANSWERING ME?!” Confusion ran over you, too worried and afraid to face the truth and have any sense.

Nami stares at you with her own tears threatening to fall, already knowing what was going to happen.

Chopper grips his hat tightly as he stares down, tears streaming down his cheeks and dripping to the floor.

Sanji couldn’t stare at you, his eyes closing shut as he wished he could help you somehow.

Franky looks at you with a frown placed on his lips, staying silent because he thought it was best to remain so.

If Brook had eyes, he’d stare with sorrow and tears as well, also remaining quiet.

Zoro just shut his eyes, almost unable to watch you looking at them so desperately and pleadingly.

Robin looks a bit pitifully, sad eyes washing over her and over at you and your teary form.

Usopp felt tears threatening to stream down his cheeks as well, feeling regret and sadness for you, hands clenched tightly into fists.

Finally, Luffy still held no reaction, arms at his side, head still lowered. But he was trying hard not to get angry or tear up himself, this reminding him of Ace’s death a bit.

“[Name].. it’s too late.. I’ve already lost a lot of blood and my wounds are.. too hurt to be healed.. the damage is done..” [ Special Someone ] breathes out, a small smile forming on their lips.

“[ Special Someone ]... what are you saying?.. I..”

“[Name]..”

“Stop..” you look down, your hair covering your eyes as your lip quivered.

“I’m thankful you found people to keep you company..” they turn to the crew with a soft smile.

“Stop it..” you whispered, teardrops slowly falling.

“Thank you for taking care of [Name].”

The crew only smiled sadly at [ Special Someone ].

“STOP TALKING, ITS NOT TOO LATE FOR YOU!” You cry out loudly, tears finally falling down your cheeks as you shouted. “[ SPECIAL SOMEONE ]!”

[ Special Someone ] only leans their head back and their breathing only shallows as they slowly lean down into your arms.

A small smile formed on their lips as they whisper out through your cries.

“I’m sorry... and thank you... [Name].”

“[ SPECIAL SOMEONE ]!”

Your scream and sobs filled the entire island as you clutched their body close to yours, eyes shut and cheeks soaked with tears as the tears drops fell onto their slowly dying body.

The crew watched silently, feeling their heart ache and sting at the sight of you sobbing and desperately clinging into whatever was left of your precious childhood memory.

-

Later that same night, after you were left alone to make a proper burial for [ Special Someone ], you returned to the crew, who sat waiting in the small home in silence.

“Everyone..”

Your voice would bring their attention to you and see the weak smile settled across your lips. “I’m sorry for wasting your time!... we can set sail now.”

They would be shocked to say the least. How could you ever think you were wasting their time? Much less, after such a traumatic and shocking event just hours prior.

“[Name], what do you mean? You weren’t wasting-“ You interrupt Usopp with a small forced chuckle.

“It’s okay, it was my fault. I should’ve known there wasn’t a point to come to this island, it’s kind of pointless considering how rundown and ruined it is now.”

“Wait, what’s going on, don’t you feel upset at all?” Nami asks with furrowed brows as she stands up to look at you.

You stare at her with a bit of wide eyes before closing them slowly and put on a big and bright smile.

Your words shocked them and made them speechless. They didn’t know what to say.

“Of course not! About what? There’s nothing to be upset about at all!”

Not even Luffy was sure what to say to that.

So it led them to heading to the ship to set sail the next early morning.

-

One day.

One day since the crew witness you experiencing and watching the death of a loved one right before your eyes.

Yet, here you were, all smiling and laughing in front of them, as if nothing happened at all. You were making jokes and trying to make the others laugh as well.

But they weren’t.

Sure, they gave sad smiles to you, a few of them offering weak or forced laughs in addition, but they couldn’t understand why you were acting like this.

Were you afraid to seem weak in front of them?

They weren’t sure but they knew something was up. But seeing you be so joyful as if nothing happened was too heartbreaking for them to say anything.

-

Three days.

Three days have gone by since the day you had witness the death of a loved one.

The crew was getting worried for you. They assumed maybe you were trying to be positive and remain happy in front of the crew, or maybe you really were over the death you witnessed first-hand but that was proven wrong just this morning.

The early morning, Sanji was getting ready to prepare breakfast when he heard noises in the aquarium lounge.

Confused, Sanji takes a peek in the room to see your shaking form, your back facing the doorway as you were curled up, hugging your knees.

He could hear your quiet cries as you hid your face into your knees, thinking you were alone to finally let it out.

Sanji could feel his heart break seeing you all alone, but as much as he wanted to comfort you, he knew it was better to leave you alone. Especially since you were acting like nothing was wrong just yesterday.

But he told the crew.

“I didn’t go up to them, out of respect for their privacy.” Sanji exhales, puff of smoke exiting his lips.

The others listened in silence to Sanji’s explanation of what he saw this morning.

Silence was brought upon the crew.

“..So they’ve been holding it in all this time.” Nami mumbles quietly, eyes saddening at the thought of how much you kept to yourself to keep up such a happy facade.

Thinking about how much you were struggling inside broke her heart.

“I can’t imagine how hard they’re struggling right now.” Brook spoke softly, looking down at the table.

Chopper had tears in his eyes at the thought. “[Name] is going through a lot and—! And we’re not there for them!” He cried out.

“What should we do now that we know what’s really going on these past few days?” Robin questions aloud, the question going through all their heads.

Zoro turns his head over to Luffy, who had been the most quiet ever since they ship left your island.

He was observant so he was watching your fake smiles closely and knew too well that you weren’t over it.

You were hiding yourself, and your feelings from the crew.

But hearing Sanji’s explanation of what he saw, seeing you all alone and crying to yourself made him fill with rage yet, also regret for not being there for his shipmate.

“DAMN IT!”

Luffy’s fist made contact with the wooden table roughly, almost breaking it into two as Luffy growls loudly. “HOW COULD THEY JUST KEEP IT ALL TO THEIR SELF?! WE’RE THEIR FRIENDS RIGHT?! WHY DON’T THEY JUST TELL IS SO WE CAN BE THERE FOR THEM?!”

“Luffy!” The others widen their eyes at Luffy’s outburst but they couldn’t exactly disagree with him.

Why didn’t you just tell them the truth of your feelings instead of putting on such a fake act? Didn’t you trust them at all?

“Luffy, you have to understand. It could be hard for [Name] to share this with us! They’re still grieving, so give it time. Okay?” Nami tries to calm down their Captain but it was no use. He wasn’t listening.

“I don’t care!” Luffy shouts, frustration building up. “We’re supposed to be friends, damn it, so why can’t they just tell us how they feel instead of being so positive all the time? It won’t change what happened, but coming to us so we can be there for them can help! That’s what we’re here for!”

“Just calm down! When [Name] is ready, I’m sure they’ll come talk to us. So settle down already and be patient!” Zoro shouts back, having enough of this.

He too was concerned and also frustrated with you for not talking with them but it wasn’t their choice.

It was yours, and they couldn’t do anything but be there when you were ready.

-

Five days.

[ Special Someone ], the person who always brought you joy.. comfort.. laughter.. and made sure you were the best you that you could be.

They stuck with you through all your ups and downs, all your pains and sorrows, all your anger, complaints and hatred..

Even with all your flaws, [ Special Someone ] never left your side once, always sacrificing themselves for your well-being.

Always making sure you were healthy, eating well, sleeping well, had fresh food and clothes everyday, and ensured that you could live with peace and not a worry in the world.

So why?

Why was someone so selfless, generous, caring, kind... why was someone like that not given the privilege to stay alive? How could someone like them die? After everything they did for you, why was it them and no one else?

Why? Why.. why did they have to die?

You turn onto your side on the bed, hands clenching the bedsheet as you thought about the same thing every day and night, the scene of them dying right in your arms replaying over and over for you every time you shut your eyes.

“Why?..”

Hugging your pillow tightly, you glance at the time on the wall and sigh, deciding to get up to greet the crew.

You sit up and get up from your bed, dusting your clothes and began getting ready, making sure you looked decent enough to show yourself to the others, before finally stepping out of the room.

When you finally step out, you see the whole crew on the main deck, doing whatever it is they do.

They immediately all turn to you when they heard footsteps. You look at them and blink softly before smiling brightly and waved. “M-Morning, you guys!”

‘Shit- please don’t have noticed that..’ you thought, hoping they didn’t notice your voice having cracked a bit.

It was quiet as they continued to stare at you, before Brook interrupts it.

“Yohohoho~... it’s the afternoon, [Name]-san..”

Your eyes widen a bit at your mistake. Did you really stay in bed for that long?

“Oh.. is it? I must’ve overslept..” you lightly laugh to ease the growing tension you felt but no one said anything in response.

“..[Name]-san.. have you been crying?” Robin questions softly, a small frown present on her face. Her question startles you as you shake your head immediately.

“What do you mean, Robin? I’m fine, I haven’t been crying at all.” Instinctively, you began wiping your eyes with your sleeves, which already sent answers to the crew.

“Seriously, what’s with you guys today? You’ve all been acting strange for a while.” You smile softly and pull at your sleeps.

“Maybe you guys just need a little adventure. Maybe-“

“Shut the hell up.”

Shocked, you turn to Zoro at his sudden blunt burst from the railing.

“Zoro!” Nami and Usopp hisses beside him, quietly scolding him for being so rude at the moment, making Zoro scoff.

“I’m rude? They just accused us for acting strange the past couple of days. I don’t disagree with them about us being a bit different lately, but they’re the one who’s been acting the strangest out of all of us. And you all know this too. Am I wrong?”

While you visibly flinch at his words, Nami and Usopp faltered a bit and looked away. “Still..”

“Zoro’s right.” Luffy, who had been quiet ever since two days ago when Sanji told them about your moment in the Aquarium Bar.

“Luffy?” Chopper questions softly from a distance, looking at their captain.

Luffy looks up and glares hard at you.

Behind his hard glare was a very faint soft expression with hurt eyes. Hurt, knowing that his shipmate was suffering and he couldn’t do anything to help them. Until now.

“Tell us the truth, [Name].” Luffy’s tone made your breath hitch from how serious he sounded. It wasn’t like a friend, it was like a captain. “Do you hate us?”

Your eyes widen at his question and you looked at him incredulously. “What? Of course not.” You immediately answered, brows furrowed.

That answer was obvious, so why did he ask?

“Okay. Are you happy with the crew?” He asks again, and you just stare at him in confusion. “I’m happy. I’ve always been.”

“...are you keeping secrets from us?”

All eyes were on you as you close your mouth and bit your tongue from saying more.

You stare at Luffy and tried to decipher what was going through his mind before closing your eyes.

“Not at all.”

“I thought our captain told you to tell the truth.” Zoro says instantly after your reply and you bit your lip slightly. “I did.”

“[Name]-chan..” Sanji sighs softly at your denial and stubbornness before Usopp frowns and spoke. “[Name]... I can tell when you’re lying and..”

“You guys, I’m fine, okay! Nothing is wrong, I’m not keeping secrets from you, so let’s just stop this and continue our day, okay?” You exasperatedly sigh, rubbing your head a bit as Franky shakes his head.

“[Name], I’m afraid we can’t.” He says, making you turn to him with a sigh. “Why? Why can’t you guys just-“

“We saw you crying alone, [Name]..” Chopper quietly mumbles, looking up sadly at you. “Why didn’t you come to us?..”

“I-“

“[Name].”

Luffy looks at you, his expression slowly softening as he stares at you deeply. “... you don’t have to be alone anymore. Actually.. you were never alone to begin with.”

You didn’t say anything and just looked away, hands clenched tightly and you bit your lip.

“I know what you’ve been going through. I felt the same two years ago in Marineford, okay? I..I felt so helpless and angry when Ace died.. I thought I was completely alone after losing him and I couldn’t live with myself.. because Ace died.. for me..”

You gulp at Luffy’s story with Ace, knowing fully well how heartbreaking it was for Luffy to be reminded of these memories, his last memory of Ace.

Hesitantly, you look up at Luffy to see pain and small tears brimming his eyes.

“It hurts a lot, [Name].. I know, alright? You feel all alone, and let regret, resentment, pain, sadness, everything, build up inside you, and you either hold it all in and put on a happy smile, or you could just let it all out and scream out the pain.” He continues, his jaw and hands clenching tightly as his tears fell down his cheeks.

The others stayed silent, all of them reminded of their own past and memories of when they lost a loved one, or when they felt completely alone with pain and regret.

Zoro, with Kuina.

Nami, with Bellemere.

Usopp, with Kaya.

Sanji, with Zeff.

Chopper, with Hiriluk.

Robin, with Jaguar.

Franky, with Tom.

Brook, with his whole crew.

Luffy, with his brothers.

You thought back to just a couple days ago with your own loved one dying in your arms and look down sorrowfully.

“I still think about it everyday, but I don’t feel as much pain or regret anymore. I’m almost thankful I survived.. why? Because it means I won’t leave you guys alone. I’m right here with you all, because you guys are my friends, my family!”

You feel tears brimming your own eyes, a few drops already falling down your cheeks.

“I’m not alone because I have you all by my side so I’m never alone! You all help me realize this and I eventually got over Ace’s death.. and even though I think about it everyday, I’m not alone anymore and I don’t cry about it too much. Because I have you and everyone else!”

You wipe at your eyes and sniff a bit, the others smiling softly at their captain, their hearts touched by his words as a few of them could feel themselves tear up.

“You’ve been crying by yourself, all alone these past few days, haven’t you?”

You didn’t answer. You knew the crew knew the answer already.

Luffy began make his way over to you, continuing to speak.

“It’s okay to be sad, to be hurt, to feel pain, and to cry. You could be angry, you can scream, you can sob, you can do anything you want.”

Luffy was now right in front of you, looking at you with a piercing expression.

“But you don’t have to be alone during these sad times. You never have to be alone again, because we’re right here.”

Luffy then tightened his fists and shouts right at you. “SO STOP KEEPING IT ALL TO YOURSELF AND SHARE YOUR PAIN WITH US! YOU WILL NEVER BE ALONE BECAUSE WE’RE YOUR FAMILY AND WE CARE ABOUT YOU. SHARE YOUR PAIN WITH ME!”

He extends and spreads his arms out, glaring hard at you with tears in his eyes as your own widen at his shouts.

The others smiled wider when they see your tears streaming faster down your cheek and your expression soften as your body lunged itself into Luffy’s arms.

Your arms wrap around his neck and legs around his waist as Luffy immediately wraps his own around you tightly, your face buried into his neck.

Sobs screamed out from your voice, your throat burning but you didn’t care. You sobbed right into Luffy’s neck, his hearing might’ve been damaged but he didn’t care either.

“It hurts.. it hurts so much, Luffy.. why?” You sob out, clutching onto him tightly as you gripped his shirt. “Why did they have to die?! Why..”

Luffy didn’t say anything, just held you closer and just as tight.

The others felt themselves tear up more at your sobs and unable to help themselves, they also ran to join in the hug.

Sanji, Nami, Usopp, Chopper and Brook all jumped into the hug, all sobbing their own cries and tears, which made you and Luffy drop onto the ground with the others on top.

“[NAME]-CHAN!”

“[NAAAMEEE]!”

“[NAME]-SANNN!”

Franky wipes his own stream of tears as Robin and Zoro smiles at the sight of their crewmates.

Despite your sobs, you couldn’t help but let out a small laugh at the others and sniffled, smiling genuinely at your family.

You should have known better than to keep it all in and to yourself. You weren’t alone.

You had family who loves you and were there right by your side, through all your joy and pain.

“Thank you, everyone. I’m so grateful..”

You smile wider and shouted loudly with closed eyes.

“Thank you, for loving me!”

-

A/N : y’all I-I teared up writing this-

I hit the maximum allowed per post wtf- I’m sorry this is rushed too ;~; I wanted it out quickly.

;-; I hope you enjoyed.

[rainygothherowolf]

Daminette- Oblivious Idiots

Ladybug groans her face in a pillow as she freaks out a little a lot.

"How'd you figure it out? I'm not that obvious, am I? Do you think he knows? He can't know, that would be awful- ohhhh NonononononoNOnonononooooo. No. Please, tell me he doesn't know." Ladybug is laying face down on the couch in the living room of Titans Tower, Beast Boy smirking down at her reaction to being found out. The boy just brought up her rather obvious crush, and now the Parisian hero is a little panicked. If Beast Boy noticed who else did? Everyone on the team is really smart.

The Parisian joined the Titans over a year ago after asking the Justice League for help. She fits into the team’s dynamic really well, playing video games with Beast Boy and Kid Flash; hanging out with Star and binging rom-coms; Raven was a tough nut to crack but didn’t seem to mind hanging out. They did get along but respected that they just had very different interests.

Robin is a completely different story, at first he was rude but the bluenette was stubborn. She wasn't going to deal with his bratty attitude, she sticks up for her herself. At some point, the Parisian earns his respect. They became friends over time, working well together though Robin insisted they train so she could improve her technique.

"It's kinda obvious for me, but he's pretty dense. Bats are always idiots when it comes to emotions n' stuff." The young Parisian hero looks up from her pillow.    

"I know that... he's my best friend. Friend- Merde. What if he sees me just as a friend!?" The bluenette's hands go to her hair, eyes blown wide. It takes everything in Beast Boy not to laugh at how blind the girl is being. Does she not see how smitten the fourth Robin is for her? That he acts more like a human being when she's around?

"No, what if all he ever sees in me is a friend? This isn't good, then we'll never date and he's just so datable. Have you seen the way his nose crinkles when he tastes something he doesn't like, holding it until it goes away? And the way he swoops his hair, I'd bet it's soft. And he's so strong-"

"Ew. I have ears, please don't-" Ladybug doesn’t seem to hear him, continuing her rant. 

"And then one day I'll have to watch him fall for someone, I think I already have. It's awful- not that I'm not happy he's happy, because I am- but I think he likes Raven. They spend so much time together, sneaking off sometimes."

"I bet they like each other, how could I compete with her. She's amazing, and- and I'm not." The bluenette's tone goes from one of acceptance to defeat.

"Oh, okay, we got serious. Uh- don't cry." When he and Raven went over the plan, they hadn't covered the possibility of a) Ladybug thinking Robin and Raven were a thing; or b) that Ladybug would compare herself to Raven. The Parisian is always so self-confident and optimistic, perfect even- she never lets anyone get her down. She huffs at his less than helpful response.

"I'm not gonna cry. It's just, why would he like me? I'm pretty sure he thinks I'm annoying." The girl stands pacing, trying to decipher the enigma that is Robin. The girl's moods changes at the drop of a dime, leaving Beast Boy to try and play catch-up.

"Am I  annoying to him? Probably. Raven is so calm and nice, he has no reason not to like her."

"That's definitely not true, if he thinks that he would tell you." She nods, sitting on the couch, leaning on her hands. His words help a little but a girl’s mind is her worst enemy, all the worst 'what if's' popping into her brain like spam mail in an already full mailbox.

This is going to take more intervention than he thought. "You're ridiculous, that isn't true."

"You're just blind, and as you would say- 'you're too close.'" Robin rolls his eyes, Raven is sitting on her bed as Robin looks at her, standing.

"All I'm saying is-"

"I understand what you said, you don't need to repeat it. All I'm saying is-" He mocks, "- that it's highly unlikely she'd be interested in me." This time Raven rolls her eyes, he really is an idiot.

"How can I prove it to you- just ask her out. She'll say yes."

"I don't trust you, you have no proof."

"Fine. Don't believe me, but mark my words, if you wait too long she might settle for someone else. You heard her complain about being mobbed on Valentines day last year."

"Whatever, she didn't like any of them."

"Yeah, because she likes you." Robin glares at Raven as he walks out of her room to go train. Robin first saw her as annoying but she grew on him. He mistook his interest in her as friendship until Raven commented on his liking their latest addition without telling her. It went downhill from there, now it’s like he can’t get her off his mind.

He tried to deny it, reason a way out of the conclusion. Raven did her best to encourage him but she was getting nowhere, the entire team was frustrated because both refused to see what was staring them right in the face.  Beast Boy and Raven meet with Starfire after both Ladybug and Robin go back to their respective home cities.

"What did you the learn?" Beast Boy speaks up first, recounting his confronting Ladybug about it. 

"She's got it bad, thinks he and Raven are into each other." 

"Robin is convinced she doesn't like him. He doesn't want to get rejected so he refuses to ask her out."

"How can we tell him she likes him that he actually does the listening?"

"He'd only be convinced if he heard her say it." Raven reasons, knowing how blind and hard headed Robin is.

"There's no way she'll fess-up, she's too insecure. Even if we convinced her that Robin wasn't into you."

"I wish the little D could just hear her say it in passing. He would ask without fear and she'd get to date him without putting herself out there." Beast Boy can already see it, it’s the perfect plan. 

"I'm sure I could get her to talk about it in the hall, you could get him close enough to hear?" Beast Boy offers, it could work but they can't see each other.

"We'll use the hallways on the fifth floor, that are separated by a wall and meet towards the elevator?"

"Sounds great, Mama." Raven rolls her eyes at his nickname for her. Starfire looks between the two before abruptly standing, trying to hide her smile.

"Yes, well, I must attend to some dishes. Farewell." The two shared a look. Perhaps it isn't only Robin and Ladybug that need to come clean.

"We gotta say something sooner than lat-"

"I know, but not yet. We could use this to our advantage..." "Right? So I had to go all the way to the other side of the city to deliver this banner, it was worth it though. The skater friend won."

"Do they still race? You said this was a normal way to spend your weekend."

"O-oh well, I don't see them much anymore." Ladybug's shoulders turn inwards, looking to the floor. Robin hates the small frown on her lips, he knows better than to pry but maybe if he got some more information he could help.

"How come?"

"Just, time. Grew apart I guess."

"You're an awful liar."

"I take that as a compliment!" Ladybug defended, smiling slightly. "You see, while Mr.-Tall,-Dark,-Handsome,-and-Mysterious is making up lies he has to keep straight I'm simply seen as an airhead that forgets her phone everywhere she goes!"

"You're even worse at changing the subject." Ladybug's smile falters.

"Hehe, yeah, have you seen Star? She said she had the cutest picture of you asleep in your costume with some dog." Robin crosses his arms, why is she avoiding the subject?

"I have plenty of pictures of 'the dog' but please-" He pats the seat next to him on his bed, "-elaborate on this 'growing apart' situation." He isn't going to give in, he has that face he used to do during training when she was too tired to get up. Ladybug sit, plopping onto the bed her arms spread across the comfortable fabric of the duvet.

"I can't say much, just that they don't want to be friends with me anymore. None of them do."

"Who's none of them?"

"My friends. All of them, only one does but they 'can't' be my friend. He just doesn't have enough of a backbone."

"Surely you have other friends besides the mindless heathens."

"School and hero duties add up, I hardly have enough time to keep up with my jobs. I don't have time for that, and they could get suspicious, notice the patterns where my old friends would see the clumsy forgetful me." He nods, laying on his back and turning to look her in the eye.

"At least I have you guys." She smiles, brushing some hair from Robin's forehead. It feels nice.

"If it were up to me-"

"It isn't, and it's best not to dwell. Come on, bird boy, let's get a snack."

"Right, but none of that hot chocolate nonsense." She rolls her eyes, she'll get him to try it. One day.

"Are we sure this is gonna work?" Beast Boy is unsure, Raven hadn't seen the way Ladybug reacted, it was like no matter what he said her mind found some way to turn it into a bad thing, like she could only see the worst in a situation. It was completely unlike her.

"Yes."

"But-"

"No 'but's', this will give Robin the push he needs to ask her out. She'll say yes. End of story."

"Then why are we planning the the thing with the mo-"

"In case he's more dense than humanly possible and because it's time people knew."

"Right... I'll wait till ten minutes from now to get her to walk past, you have till then to get him there, we'll take two laps just in case." Raven nods before going to look for Robin. She finds him in the living room, reading a book. 

“Come.” Raven turns around and makes her way towards the elevator, he catches up and they ride to the fifth floor. They exit and hide behind the designated wall. 

"You are not to make a sound, simply wait and listen.”

They wait.

And listen.

It takes ten minutes for something to happen, the elevator bell rings and opens at their floor. Raven motions for him to stay quiet. Robin hears to footsteps as someone sighs.

"-How could I not? He's just so- dreamy."

"Ew. Why do you even like him? You're too nice for him."

"I am not 'too nice' and Robin is not mean... He's just... gruff- yeah, gruff, at first. But you should have seen how cute it was when we were talking about something and I was laying and he laid down next to me and there was hair blocking his eyes a little so I swiped it out of the way and it was so soft." She says it all in one breath which should be concerning if Robin’s attention wasn’t being taken up by trying to not freak out. His eyes wide, back pressed against the wall so as not to get caught. She keeps talking, he has to hear more.

She sounds so sure of her affection, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. She likes him? Like to date? Raven is right? This is impossible, but it was happening. She’s ranting about things not even he notices about himself like they’re the most amazing things in the world.

"And have you seen him smile? And his laugh, it's one of my favorite things about him. And did you notice the way he always perks up when there's a happy animal on the television, like it reminds him of something- I'd bet he has an animal. I wish I could have a pet." They kept walking, she kept rambling about him, his hair, his smile, the way he walked. He heard the voices fade at she and Beast Boy kept walking.

"I told you." Robin didn't even have a response, she feels the same way?

"She likes me?"

"You've got to be joking, after all that, you still don't believe it?"

"Shut up, I'm processing." Raven crosses her arms, impatiently waiting, they'll loop back soon.

"She likes me."

"Just keep listening." Ladybug and Beast Boy came back into earshot. When they got closer, Beast Boy cut her off when she starts going off topic about his hair.

"So if he asked you out, what would you do?" Robin hears them stop, she makes a high pitched whine he knows means she’s flustered, she used to do it every time he glared her down and got a little too close, at the time, an unknown symptom of his attraction towards the heroine.

"I mean, if I could speak- I'd say yes but I'd probably freak out and fall or trip over my words. It doesn't matter, he wouldn't ask. Why in the world would he like me?" Raven has to remind Robin to stay quiet and hidden with a shushing motion and a hand to his shoulder. He stays in place despite the fact that he wanted to list every reason why he would. His stupid monkey brain thought of kissing her to drive his point home but shoos the intrusive thought away.

"Right, and what you'd kiss him?" It was like his teammate is reading his stupid, teenage mind.

"Pretending he liked me back? I mean, I could go on about his li-"

"Please don't." The bluenette laughs with him.

"Ah! I have to go meet Robin for training. Bye!"

"Later." The girl's footsteps disappear as the elevator door arrives and carries her towards the training room.

"Dude you better not say she doesn't like you again." Beast Boy sad, knocking on the wall to get his attention.

"Why don't you just ask her?"

"Yes, the little D, she will the gladly accept." Kor'i appears out of nowhere, he hates when she hovers like that. He can never tell where she is. He glares at them all, he’s late to meet with Ladybug. How in the world is he going to face her after that, it was so wrong to have listened. She hadn't meant for him to hear those things. Robin is filled with guilt as he walks into the waiting elevator and nears the training room. Ladybug is there smiling and slightly pink, likely from their teammate's questions.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes." He couldn't tell her he heard, she'll get embarrassed. He can't act on it either, she sounds busy enough as is. He would just be in the way.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." He snaps at her this time, the rest of their training session is silent. She leaves back to Paris as soon as her shift is over, not staying to speak with Robin like she usually does. No one is amused by his behavior.

"What the hell? You get the confirmation you've been needing to finally ask her out and you start acting like you hate her?" Beast Boy finally exclaims, Raven kicks him under the chair.

"It's none of your business, and none of you should have interfered. I was not meant to hear any of that, she doesn't have time for me anyways." Robin gets up from his seat and walks towards the zeta-tube.

After that, things get a little better. Robin isn't rude or snappy to her but they don't talk or have their little one on one training sessions. Ladybug does everything in her power to try and rebuild the bridge she didn't know had been burnt. She doesn't know what she did wrong, what she said, what happened made Robin want to avoid her like the plague.

Is he going to leave her too?

No. It doesn't matter that he probably put two and two together and knows she likes him, that he probably likes someone else, he is her friend at the very least, it might not be enough but it’s something.

Ladybug gathers her courage, waiting for him to pass the one place she knows she can get him. Waiting right at a corner, she hears him coming. She wants to laugh when he slows, always knowing when she tries to sneak up on him, but this time she holds it in. Reminding herself of why she’s there.

Just as he comes into range, she turns the corner and faces him. 

Her face is angry, no, pissed. Her eyebrows scrunched, a deep frown replacing the usual smile, she shoves a finger onto his chest. He always knew she was there but her expression, it’s hurt and angry and world ending- his world to be specific.

"What is your deal? What the hell did I do to you that you won't even talk to me anymore? What did I say? Why do you suddenly hate me?"

"I-"

"I mean, one day we're laughing and talking, and I tell you about what happened with my friends, and then the next you don't even bother to greet me!" She berates him in French, she gets more passionate about her speech until she's out of gas. At least, that's what he thinks.

“It’s disrespectful and hurtful! You don’t just drop someone because they did something to upset you, you try to fix it. You try to work through it!” 

"I-"

"What? You what? I told you about my friends, not only did I put a lot of trust in you for that- it could have pointed towards my identity if I slipped up. You're too easy to talk to. And don't you dare say that this is just how you are because we both know you've been off lately. So just tell me! Tell me you hate me, tell me you want space, tell me somethings wrong or that I did something but just don't shrug this off. You are too important to me to just let this go!" He can see the unshed tears in her eyes, why is she crying? Why does he have to make her cry? He doesn’t deserve her tears, her affection, he doesn’t deserve her. 

"I just- I think you can do better. I’m not a good enough companion." Robin refused to use the word friend, she isn’t his friend, she’s so much more than that. A rouge tear falls, her face incredulous.

"What?"

"You sound busy enough, you'd be better off spending your time with someone else." Robin doesn’t look her in the eye, it’s the honest truth but he can’t stand looking at her so upset. 

Ladybug is at a loss, that’s why he’s upset? Because he thinks she was wasting her time? That he wasn't good enough for her to spend her time with?

It’s like a switch flips, her anger melting away. Her jabbing finger falls.

"Who could be better?" She hugs him, Damian does have some experience from Grayson so he awkwardly returns the favor. The far shorter girl sniffles once before pulling back with a smile.

Robin feels a pang in his chest, he made her cry. She wipes away the unshed tears from the corners of her eyes, glad to have the mess over and done with. He vows never to do so ever again.

"I never wanna hear you say that you're anything less than the best, c'mon time to get your butt handed to you."

"Spar?"

"You wish." Robin sighed, she always beats him in video games. As they walk, the alarm blares. There’s an attack somewhere. The duo runs towards the living room, Starfire is already there with Beast Boy, Raven, and Kid Flash.

"We've got two. There's some kind of monster tearing through down town, we need to stop them."

"And the other?" Robin asks.

"Paris, akuma." Ladybug groans, like she always does. She runs off towards the zeta tubes with a wave goodbye. Time to deal with the mangy cat's puns.

Robin and the rest of the team walk back into Titan Tower expecting to see Ladybug waiting for them, she always gets back before them in situations like this. Kid Flash speeds off after grabbing his things saying he’s late to something, as usual. Beast Boy limps, most of his weight supported by Raven as they make their way towards the med bay. 

Robin and Starfire sit in the living room, she shows him photos of Dick in ridiculous sleeping positions or mid fall but Robin is on edge. Why isn't she back yet?

Of course, he gets an immediate answer. Ladybug's distress signal goes off, he and Star are off without a moment's hesitation. Jumping into the zeta-tubes, worry for their teammate clear. After over a year of working with her she’s never used the distress button. The machine powers up and blinds them, Damian jams a communicator in his ear and tunes in to the local news station. He hears where Ladybug is and he and Starfire set off in search for the girl. Paris is bright, people stop and stare as the heroes make their way towards the Eiffel tower.

Robin's mind is hyper focused and clouded at the same time, he knows he has to be at his best to help Ladybug so he shoves all that annoying emotion in a stupid box, shuts it, locks it, and pushes it into a dark little corner. They arrive at the lawn of the Eiffel tower.

Looking exhausted, Ladybug charges the villain. A blond boy in a black cat suit is flung at her with ease. The monster tries to throw a bus full of people at the two as Ladybug tries to get the boy off, he doesn’t seem to care, trying to hug the girl. Robin feels his chest tighten in jealousy.

Robin motions towards the bus, Starfire flies past and catches the bus mid air. The dark haired teenage boy is quick to lift the ill equipped partner he's heard so very much about off Ladybug.

"I believe she is trying to get up." He drops the boy to the side before offering a hand to Ladybug.

"Hello, again." Ladybug smiles up at him, taking Robins hand. Pulling her up, the two stand close together. Staring.

"Hi."

"Shall we get back to the task at hand?!" Starfire asks, mid battle with the monster when Ladybug and Robin snap back to reality. They join the fight, Chat sticks to the sidelines with a pout. The monster is tough, she only pressed the panic button in fear of the hostages being injured or killed. Even if they were physically healed by the miraculous cure it’s traumatizing.

The battle doesn’t last very long, the monster is extremely susceptible to Robin's ice capsules, and is no match for Kor'i's strength.

Ladybug is relieved when she sees the purified akuma flap away.

"Miraculous Ladybug!" The bluenette was able to use her lucky charm quickly enough, she'd say thank you before giving Tikki food and returning to the tower to finish her shift.

"Well done."

"Thank you, you weren't too bad yourself." Marinette smiles back to the far taller boy.

"Will you be returning to the tower? Should we wait for you?"

"You are the kidding, yes? We are in Paris! I'd like to go the shopping!" Ladybug laughed.

"With what money? My brother's card is rather telling. As is your own."

"I suppose you are correct."

"Don't worry, Starfire, we can go on a shopping day soon." The girl smiled.

"Yes, the little D, would you join us? Raven may join as well, yes, Ladybug? Girls day!"

"I do not qualify as a girl."

"Little D?" Ladybug asks, smiling softly before bursting into laughter. "I need to go help the victim and recharge. I'll see you back at the tower." Ladybug turns to leave but comes face to face with Chat. 

"What are you doing here? We don't need you." He directs his comments to both of the American heroes but mostly towards Robin. Ladybug pinches the bridge of her nose.

"We are members of the Teen Titans, we were asked to come. Now if you'll excuse us-"

"What? Who asked you to come here. My lady and I would never-"

"I did, and I am not 'your lady' you need to stop with the names and trying to distract me mid-battle, Chat.” 

“But-” Ladybug gives the mangy cat no time to explain, cutting in with no patience.

“No ‘but’s, you almost got us and all those hostages killed. Go. Home.” The tro of Titan’s walk away, it’s best not to give the boy anymore attention.

"We should do it now."

"What'd you mean? He's still acting like he can't stand her."

"No, they made up. I heard her yelling at him about it. He caved pretty quickly after that. We do it tonight, no more sneaking around and hopefully they get together." Beast Boy nods, watching Raven ice his ankle for him.

"Thanks, mama."

"... You're welcome." He smiles flicking some water on his girlfriend, she looks at him with a sad excuse for a glare.

"Alright, the ice should stay. Let's go see if she's back." Raven makes sure to keep Beast Boy off his ankle, quickly shooing him off to the empty living room couch. They don’t wait long for Robin, Starfire, and Ladybug to return.

"Thanks again for coming to help, guys." Starfire smiles. Robin nods.

"It was our pleasure, what shall we do now?"

"Movie?" Beast Boy asks, getting immediate yeses from the girls.

"I'll pass-"

"Come on." Raven complains, the guy can be such a pain.

"tt, no. That doesn't work on me."

"Pretty please?" Starfire asks. She pulls out the baby doll eyes and a pout.

"No, the physical appearance of the 'please' makes no difference-"

"Please?" Ladybug pulls out all the stops, she looks him right in the eyes, those big, blue, innocent eyes were so sad and pretty, she shuffles a foot, her hands behind her back. Her bottom lip juts out ever so slightly as her torso sways back and forth. His response is immediate.

"Yes." Ladybug grins in victory, Damian doesn’t get the chance to backpedal.

"Yay!" Starfire quickly steals Robin's usual seat. Raven and Beast Boy take up one side of the couch, Robin and Ladybug take up the other. Everyone bickers and argues over which movie to watch until Robin gets annoyed and plays one of the few movies he can bear. Lion King.

Throughout the duration of the film, Beast Boy slowly pushes Ladybug closer to him laying longways until he takes up the majority of the couch. Ladybug is squished against Robin, their arms pressing uncomfortably against each other. Deciding to test the waters, Robin wraps an arm around the Parisian's shoulder. The lights were off but the girl's blush is obvious. She has yet to move, he feels her glance in the opposite direction for a moment before leaning onto him.

Damian wasn't freaking out... Okay, Damian was only freaking out a little. He didn’t do well last time he saw she likes him. What should he do now? An annoying and sarcastic voice told him not to ignore her but they weren't much help. The little Grayson in Damian's mind told him to pull her a little closer, maybe kiss her head to make his intentions more clear. She still isn't aware of his affection towards her. He does the first, he could all but see the little Grayson smiling. Robin has no clue what to do next so he just does his best to watch the movie.

The lights come on far too soon, Ladybug doesn't move to get off him until she notices the lights turn on. She blushes that adorable shade of pink. That's when he sees it, just behind a blushing bluenette is Raven snuggling with Beast Boy as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. His brows furrow, his arm falls of Ladybugs shoulder. It was clear this isn’t a one time thing or anything of the sort. They know exactly what they’re doing, they’ve been seeing each other and she didn't tell him. After all the times he spoke about Ladybug, she didn't care to mention her own relationship.

Ladybug follows his line of sight, her posture goes from relaxed to tense.

To Marinette it’s like confirmation to something she knew all along, he likes Raven. Maybe he only wrapped his arm around her because of how squished they were. Which means she completely misread the situation and leaned onto him when he was just trying to be comfortable.

"I knew it!" Starfire exclaims, beaming. Raven just looks away trying or hide her small smile. Ladybug is happy their happy but Robin just walks away, his face neutral. She hates when he makes that face. Soon Starfire has to leave and Beast Boy hobbles to his room, ankle still tender.

Ladybug's overthinking keeps her in place, staring at her hands. She doesn’t even notice that Raven is still in the room with her.

"You should go talk to him."

"W-what? Me? No, he doesn't want to talk to me." Ladybug tried to say no but she couldn't help but be worried for Robin. Raven gives her a look, she relents.

"Fine." Ladybug drags herself to where she knows he'll be. He was always on the roof when he has to think. She mentally prepares herself for an undeniable, verbal confirmation that he doesn't like her, she forces herself to go- to be there for him.

"Go away." Damian is in no mood to deal with Raven, how could she not tell him?

"You can't get rid of a bug that easily, Rob." He chastises himself for being rude to Ladybug again, at least she doesn't sound upset because of it. She doesn't say anything, sitting next to him as they look over the brightly lit cityscape.

"Wanna talk about it?" He doesn't respond. The little Grayson, encouraged by the success of last time, tries to get Damian to hold her hand. Their hands were so close, just a few inches apart. That definitely isn't happening. "Right..." She trails off, not knowing what else to say. The silence grows, unchecked like a cancer.

"I- Just- Why wouldn't she tell me? After-" Robin was about to say too much but thankfully stopped himself.

"After what?" He’s relieved she’s still ignorant of his affection, putting himself out there like that’s a scary thought.

"Nothing. Nevermind."

"After you told her you like her." She speaks with such certainty, like she’s accepted it as fact. Is that what she really thought?

"What? No- I just- confided in her about something similar. I expected she'd do the same. She's one of my best friends." He sees Ladybug nod, that same look of  on her face.

"I'm sure she didn't mean to hurt your feelings. They probably just wanted to keep it quiet until they were ready to tell everyone." Robin had to admit she was probably right. He saw the way her hands fiddled and folded, she was trying to think of something to talk about, likely to distract him. She was always so considerate.

"So... girlfriend."

"Where'd you hear that?" He was so confused, the very idea is ridiculous.

"Well, you said you confided in Raven about something similar. I just assumed you had a partner."

"Oh. No." They sat in silence again, looking over the silent harbor. Damian gathers his courage, now is the perfect time- looking over a clear sky with the stars out. Isn't this the kind of situation girls daydream about? Now was the most likely time for her to accept. Deciding to just get it out, Damian starts speaking.

"Actually there's-"

"I know you probably don't-" Of course, just as Robin starts speaking, she does too. Alarm bells start ringing in his head, the little Grayson is trying to figure out what she was going to say while the rest of him starts freaking out.

They awkwardly laugh, looking away, Damian feels an unfamiliar little burning sensation on his cheeks. He’s loosing more of his nerve by the second.

"ILikeYou,LikeLikeLike." She just blurts it out, redder than her costume. Damian's head snaps to her with his lips parted. This is happening.

"I feel the same way. I- I apologize I didn't say so sooner I just- you said you were so busy already, I didn't want to become a distraction." Ladybug gives him a small smile, that was what that was about. She fondly wipes the hair from his forehead back, lacing her fingers through his hair. Her hand rested at the back of his neck, smiling. She looks so content, at peace.

"I see no issue in distractions."

"I suppose this is the part of the story where we kiss?" Robin puts a hand on the Parisian's cheek, inching closer. They move to close the gap until they were just a hairsbreadth away. Her eyes are so blue and so beautiful up-close.

"I suppose you'd be correct." Their lips meet, the beautiful night sky behind them- everything else melting away.

[ratcandy]

CoGR Abridged/Summarized

Hello hello! My name is Clam, otherwise known as Squeakyclam on Ao3, and this is a heavily summarized/shortened version of my HK fic Camouflage of Great Renown. For anyone somehow finding this that doesn't know what it's about, CoGR focuses on Zote and his story through the game and what preceded it. He recounts his entire life up until the end of what's known in canon, and this includes a whole lot of angst, growth, realizations, and Trauma Revelations.

Oh, and he's a nosk. Zote is a nosk. Yep.

I've had a few requests for a summary, as the work is super long and reading through 130k+ words of Zote dialogue may not be for everyone, hehehe so I've compiled all the important plot points and wrote them out here in order of his story, rather than the plotline CoGR goes through specifically (in which big events in his history are revealed later on).

If I had to recommend reading the fic for anything, it'd be the... impact, I suppose? 'Cause reading the summarized events here will NOT be anything like reading it in CoGR. Seeing as the fic is all in Zote's pov and he actually has to force himself to admit all of this aloud. But I digress!!

Here's a summary of Zote's life according to CoGR.

THIS IS A VERY, VERY LONG POST DESPITE BEING A SUMMARY. I'm sorry, CoGR just has a lot happening! T/W for mentions of death.

A lot more heavy stuff happens in CoGR, but in this summary I do my best to step around those subjects. If you think more T/Ws should be added, let me know, and I'll put them here

Nosks were a species that inhabited Deepnest, specifically living in a den towards the nest's depths. It split off into lots of tunnels and caverns that each nosk lived in. "Society" there was very hostile and unwelcoming, as nosks valued brute strength over just about anything else. Caring for another nosk - be it kin or otherwise - was considered weak. "Burdens" to the den, such as nosks that were badly wounded, would/could not hunt, or were simply getting too old would be killed off. Death in and of itself was very common and hardly anyone would bat an eye at it.

Think the Mantis Tribe but largely feral and without a shred of decency of morals.

Runt donning mask of citizen was born into the nosk den alongside his brother, who would become hunter donning hide of tiktik.

(Before anyone asks, these are just the naming conventions that nosks have. No one but the nosk superiors - the leaders of the den - are granted actual names.)

A third egg was among them, but the brother broke it open and ate the younger sibling not long after hatching.

The two were born under a superior (their mother) and her chosen mate (their father). They were expected to grow up strong and eventually overtake their mother and become superiors. Or, one of them would, maybe.

The runt (Zote) was immediately scorned by the mother, as he was extremely frail and useless, and she just about killed him off right after he hatched - but his father stepped in, and the runt was left alive.

Zote grew up to be a weak nosk who could barely defend himself in a den full of beasts that would gladly kill him if doing so wouldn't be a direct offense to a superior. His brother was cruel to him, his father berated him constantly, and his mother was hardly in the picture at all. Only ever watching him distastefully from afar.

His father did, however, train him, if only sparingly. The least he could do to keep Zote alive. (Doing so would be a death wish were any other nosks to find out about it...)

However, an elder in the den - hunter donning mask of weaver - gained Zote's attention as she told him fantastical stories from outside the den. This elder had spent a good portion of her life among the Weavers, initially being sent to learn about them (to make them easier to hunt) but growing interested in their culture and choosing to stay. Until she did something to get her chased out.

At any rate, she told the stories from the Weavers to Zote, alongside news of what was happening outside of Deepnest. This caused the runt to become obsessed with the idea of being a knight, as the stories just sounded!! So amazing and heroic and awesome and!!! :D Yea!! He wanted to be just like that!

To the point where he even carved a sword out of the shellwood... with the den elder's help. He named it Life-Ender eventually.

At some point, however, his father found out about all this. His father figured that the only way to eliminate this problem - as wishing to be something heroic that saved lives or whatever was SO unnosk-like (and would get him killed) - was to kill the den elder.

Before she died, the elder told Zote to run away from the den, and not to return no matter what. The idiot did not run, and because of this, he witnessed the Den Elder's death at the hands of his father and some other nosks.

Man! this does, however, cause Zote to be more... "open" about his ideas. By this I mean he begins carrying Life-Ender around instead of hiding it in his nest. what do you mean it's a comfort item what! no he's just rebelliously showing off how much he wants to be a knight. totally. 100% /s

well, anyway, not long after this, the idiot's father dies at the claws of his mother. Zote unfortunately witnesses this as well. When he tries to run, his mother catches him, nearly killing him as well. Luckily(?), this attempt is thwarted by Zote's brother, who was very distraught over their father's death. The brother swears to kill the mother before storming off. Zote runs into hiding (still in the nosk den), and begins devising his plan so to get the hell out of there.

Of the few times that Zote leaves his nest after his father's death, 90% of them ended with him getting pummeled by his brother. The latter was livid, blaming the father's death on Zote and frequently bursting into fits of emotional rage. Rage is great for nosks, other emotions not so much.

On one occasion in particular, the brother goes too far, nearly killing Zote. In the scuffle, Life-Ender is shattered, and that sends Zote into a blind anger (mixed with survival instinct as he's About to Die). Zote then kills his brother.

A crowd had gathered around them during the fight. In that crowd was Zote's mother, who looked to him approvingly after he'd killed off his brother. This terrified Zote, so he gathered the pieces of Life-Ender and fled the den forever.

Stopping at the hot spring in Deepnest, he made a disguise for himself based on the vessels that nosks would often capture. He made a new name for himself, took on an entirely new identity, and decided to abandon the idea that he was ever a nosk. He would just go to the City, be knighted by the King (who he'd heard of from the stories the Den Elder would tell him), and live out his life as a knight. Just like he always wanted. Not as a nosk. because he's not that.

The events that follow now are just very short summaries of things that happen throughout cogr.

- He breaks a statue in the Queen's station on accident after a bug finds him there. as a nosk. oops

- He obliterates the entire uoma population /j and burns himself in the process

- He repairs Life-Ender originally using mushrooms in the Fungal Wastes. Fungal adhesion is real I checked I swear

- He makes it to the City of Tears! and while there, he

Gets caught by Hegemol who mistakes him as a vessel

Drowns in the City's gutters

Purchases a cloth to wrap around Life-Ender

Hears the Pale King talk one (1) time and immediately decides he hates him

- While leaving the City, he finds a grub. That grub never really gets named, but as he frequented calling the little thing "Fiend," and the grub eventually began responding to that title, he just considers it a name for them now.

- Zote travels with the grub throughout the Crossroads until he drops them off with the Grubfather, being rewarded for reuniting them but overall feelings pretty :( about it.

- He then goes to the. So you know the houses that are underneath the Gruzz Mother's lil arena? Yea that place. he goes there and "guards" it, becoming that place's self-proclaimed knight.

- then he starts being paranoid about the grub and returns to the grubfather only to see all the grubs have been stolen. he presumes Fiend is dead from this point on (and dodges around ever using the word).

- Then he goes back to the lil town place only to see everyone's infected :(

- We then spend TEN CHAPTERS!! in Greenpath. In which he

eats a plant and dies

Stands in No Eyes's tomb.

Visits the Lake of Unn (and nothing bad happens)

Sees a nosk at the entrance to Fog Canyon and proceeds to have a panic attack

Kills everything

Gets caught by the Vengefly king

Gets saved!

has a breakdown

Yells at Ghost and then Leaves

- Canon starts!

- He stops in Dirtmouth, listens to Elderbug talk, gets told the Myth of the Great old Nosks who are now all Extinct. The news that nosks are now extinct freaks Zote out a little, but he absolutely refuses to return to Deepnest. He doesn't need to make sure. It's fine.

- In an effort to convince himself not to go to Deepnest, he goes to the City again, thinking it can't possibly be all that ba-- oh no everyone's dead!

- he inadvertently steals a map marker from Ghost and decides to use that as a pin for his cloak

- Zote returns to Deepnest. He's very upset with himself for this, but he just has to know if all the nosks are actually extinct now.

The answer is yes

but before that he gets caught by dirtcarvers and put in a web and has to be saved. this makes him angry

Upon seeing all the dead nosks once he gets to the den, and noticing that the last nosk was mimicking Ghost (evidenced by the mask left behind) before it died, he decides that he's gotta Kill Everything again

- more specifically we're going to the Colosseum now.

- Zote's fear of water evaporates as he goes through the secret passage in the King's Station to get to Kingdom's Edge. He only found it because he saw Ghost go that way

- While at the Kingdom's Edge, he gets caught by the Fools, who he stupidly challenges and then immediately gets caught by.

- sits in dumb baby jail for a while. mean to tiso

- Then the colosseum battle happens! He does not win he then gets dropped down into kingdom's edge with little regard toward whether he's dead or alive

- He grabs a Fool's helmet before leaving, going back to Dirtmouth, and intending to bury that thing

- this goes wrong as he bumps into Bretta. He then sits and talks with her for God Only Knows how Long, spacing out while doing so, and not even noticing when she eventually gets up and leaves him.

- He buries the helmet, shuts himself away in his house, and gets stuck repeating his precepts to himself. At the end of CoGR it is revealed that he hasn't been talking to anyone, and is instead talking to himself endlessly as no one is left to listen to him

and that's it! that's cogr. yeah

[wishingtobeinadifferentuniverse]

Spoiled Goods (Eomer x Fem!reader)

Word Count: 2181

Warnings: Dark, mentions of sex, bruises, etc. Not a wholesome story that's for sure. I'd rate it PG-13, so please don't read it if it makes you uncomfy, and if you do, well don't say I didn't warn you

Summary: Basically you get used by Wormtongue (Eugh) to keep Eowyn and Eomer safe, and then try and hide it from them. Don't ask how I got such a twisted idea, because IDK

A/N NOT IN THE BOOK OR MOVIES BUT IDC I GOT THE IDEA SO SUCK IT UP

The light shone in my face, piercing through my eyelids. I felt sore all over. And then I heard it. Harsh breathing next to me. Then I remembered what had taken place the night before. What I had sacrificed. But what I had saved. I opened my eyes, and slowly, carefully, got out of the bed. Wormtongue was still asleep thankfully, so I did not have to deal with him at the moment. I picked up my nightgown, putting it on as quietly as possible. Then I grabbed my slippers and slowly opened the door. I heard a bit of stirring, but then the snoring resumed. Once I was in the hallway, I ran as fast as I could, away from that room.

Turning around a corner, I slammed into someone. We both fell to the ground, and when I offered a hand to help the other up, I realized who it was.

"Eowyn, why are you awake this early?" I questioned.

She smiled gently, "I woke up earlier than normal, and I wanted to start some of my work early. Why are you up and walking around in your nightwear? Is everything alright?"

I faked a smile. "Yes Wyn, everything is fine. Well, I will be heading back to my room now!"

I tried to step around her but she blocked me. "Y/n, what is wrong? Your dress is all buttoned wrong, and you aren't even walking from your room. Remember, I know you better than anyone, so stop lying to me."

I faltered. Should I tell her? Should I tell her what I did? Why I did it? No, it would only hurt her. I smiled weakly again. "Wyn, I am fine. Now please let me go to my room." She relented and let me pass her. But she followed me down the hall and into my room. I should have known nothing would stop her from poking in my business. But at the moment, I could care less. I was exhausted, my body hurt, and I just wanted to cry.

We walked into my room and she went straight into the bathroom, where there was already water in the bath, probably meant to be used last night. She dipped her hand in it, testing the temperature.

"Why is there still water in your bath y/n? It was a hot night, so it is at a comfortable temperature. Please do not lie to me. You know how I feel about it." Eowyn said.

I stuttered. "I-I-I don't want to say. You would be disgusted with me. I am already disgusted with myself. "

She countered, "It can't possibly be that bad. You have always been a bit on the dramatic side. Please just tell me."

I could hardly utter the words to myself, much less to her. She would hate me. So I began to unbutton my nightgown. I would not tell her, but I could show her. She gasped when she saw the bruises on my chest, my arms, my thighs. I lowered my head in shame. It looked horrible, to begin with, but it would be even worse when she learned why I had said yes, why I had let him use me.

"What happened?" Eowyn said faintly. She helped me into the bath and then sat next to it, waiting for me to continue.

"W-Wormtongue. He was going to have you and Eomer killed." I was trying to hide the fear, and how mad I was at myself. My eyes began to betray me, welling up slightly.

Eowyn's eyes widened with shock. "That, that horrible!" She could not even finish her sentence, her words distorting with her fury. Her cheeks reddened, clearly enraged. "How dare he even touch you without your permission! I should personally kill him myself! And Eomer helping me! No one is ever allowed to do this to you."

I lowered my eyes, feeling guilt spread through me. "Wyn...he had my permission," I mumbled, not daring to look at her. "But I had to, I could never lose you, or Eomer for that matter."

I heard her shift slightly, her skirts rustling against the floor. "Y/n," she said softly. "I am so sorry that this happened to you. But I do have a question. Why would he have threatened Eomer as well as me? You are not as close, and he has a more fighting chance against him."

I grew even more embarrassed, hardly speaking above a whisper. "Well, originally, it was only you. But last night, I was trying to get my mind off of what he was doing to me, and, well..." I trailed off.

"Well, what?" Eowyn prodded. "Nothing you say will change how I think of you. I don't want to pressure you, and I know talking will help. Please continue."

Still refusing to meet her eyes, I continued. "Wormtongue told me if I was to speak, I was only to say his name. But I got caught in the moment, trying to think of anything else, and said someone else's name instead."

Eowyn sighed in understanding. "So he added Eomer to the list. I see." She put a comforting hand on my shoulder. "Y/n, why didn't you say anything before?"

"I was too ashamed to admit that I had submitted myself to that. It was only a one night deal, but I feel horrible and gross. I feel like spoiled goods, that nobody would want," I responded, finally gaining the courage to look back at her.

She smiled reassuringly. "Well, that is certainly a rotten situation to be in, but I wasn't exactly referring to that. I was talking about Eomer. I presume you have feelings for him. How I did not see this before, I do not know."

I looked down again. "Oh, that. Well, I guess so, but I didn't want to say anything, for fear of ruining a good friendship."

She nodded slowly. "Well, I think I will give you some peace, so please, wash up, and get ready for the day." She started walking out of the room before calling back, "Y/n? I do not think a relationship would be ruined if you were to say something."

Before I could respond, she shut the door, letting me be. I decided not to ponder her words, and just relax in the lukewarm water. I closed my eyes to block the sunlight out. What would Eomer think of me if he heard what I did? I am now spoiled goods. No one will want me after this. No one would want a wife who has been with someone else. I hate myself. How could I do this? No, I knew why I did this. It was worth it. Saving their lives was more important. I began to get out of the bath. I had to face the day  eventually.

As I pulled on my undergarments, I began to notice how dark some of the bruises were getting. My hips were the worst. They were covered with black and blue. Even the ones on my arms were becoming more visible. This was not good, not good at all. I pulled on my dress and darted to Eowyn's room, quickly knocking and entering without waiting. Unfortunately, someone else was there with her, hurriedly speaking.

"Eomer," I breathed, "May I speak with your sister? Alone."

He raised an eyebrow, but nodded, beginning to leave the room. But then he stopped short when he saw my arms. He looked at me with alarm in his eyes but continued to walk out the door. I hardly dared to move, or speak, until I heard the door close behind me.

"Eowyn, I need something to cover my arms better than the dress, it is too pale and you can see the bruises underneath. Do you have anything I might be able to borrow?" I spoke hurriedly, trying to get out of there before Eomer could come back. She nodded, understanding my urgency, and reached into her closet, ruffling through some stuff.

"Here this might work," She suggested, handing me a black, knit-shawl. "I know it is a bit warmer, but it is lightweight. Why are you in such a hurry to leave? If it is because of Eomer, which I am guessing it is, just talk to him. Or at least try. He cares about you a lot too."

I shook my head. "No, it was difficult to tell even you, and besides, caring about someone is different than what I feel for him. I need to go start my duties anyways." I curtsied and headed towards the door. I started down the hall, turning a corner and running into Eomer.

"I really need to check around the corners more often," I grumbled. He chuckled softly.

"How are you doing this lovely morn?" Eomer questioned gently.

I responded quickly. "I am doing just fine. Now if I may," I tried to sidestep around him, determined to leave a difficult conversation before it started. But he grabbed my wrists pulling me back and making me wince. He put my hand in his, showcasing the slight bruising on my wrists. Damn, I should have covered those up. He looked back at me, his eyes darkening.

Very quietly, but laced with danger, he said, "Who did this to you?"

I refused to look at him, slowly pulling my hands out of his grasp. He then began pulling the shawl to the side, gasping softly when he saw the bruises on my arm. He ran his fingers over them, slowly, tenderly. Then he took his other hand, lifting my chin, making me look at him. His eyes pierced mine, and again my eyes betrayed me, beginning to tear up a bit. He withdrew his hand quickly, thinking it was his fault.

"No, you are fine," I whispered. "And I-" My voice broke, I could not admit this to him. I could not tell him what I did. He would be disgusted with me.

"Y/n," his voice was deeper and gravelly, "You can trust me with anything."

I tried turning away again, but he stopped me. "Trust me," He pleaded.

I spoke quietly. "Grima was threatening to kill you and Wyn. I begged him not to, but he only had one way, one thing he wanted me to do in order to never hurt you again. I had no choice, but I hate myself because I let him. But now it is over for me. I am only spoiled goods, no one will ever want me as a wife. So there you go, that is why I was up so early, why I am covered in bruises." This time it was Eomer who turned away, his jaw clenching, his hand turning into a fist.

Then he turned back to me, softly cupping my cheek. "I will kill Wormtongue for even touching you, even if you said yes, he still took advantage of you. Y/n, you will never be spoiled goods, not to me." A tear ran down my face, after all the confessing, I was done, done with everything.

But suddenly I became aware of how little space there was between us, how I was backed against a wall, and how heightened my senses were. He brushed the tear away, his hand a bit calloused. He looked into my eyes, and suddenly I realized what he was looking for, what he was silently waiting for. I nodded, and then he pressed his lips against mine, slowly moving them. I reached my arms around his neck, pulling him closer to me, our bodies pressed together. This was amazing and completely different from what had happened the night before. (This had ya girl turned on af) He moved his hands to the small of my back, pulling me even closer to him.

After several glorious minutes, I was the first to pull away but kept my forehead pressed to his. "How long have you felt this way?" I breathed, barely able to contain the joy I felt.

"Many, many years. I was too afraid to say anything."

"Too afraid?" I teased, "Now that is truly surprising."

He laughed, one of my favorite sounds, before pressing a kiss against my forehead. "My dear, please know that you are worth so much, and that, as I said before, you are not spoiled goods. Please, may I have the honor to court you?"

I smiled even wider. "Of course my lord." He picked up my hand, kissing it gently. "I do need you to do something for me," I said, my mood darkening a bit. "No one else must hear of this, for fear that Wormtongue might hear of it. I do not want to know what he might do if he were to hear of it."

Eomer nodded solemnly. "Anything for you, My Lady," he responded.

And so the days passed. Stolen kisses in the dark, going for walks when no one could see, hiding in plain sight. I could still sometimes feel the ghost of hands on me, but that moved on eventually. And soon enough, it was Eomer, only Eomer, and it was pure bliss. Enemies came and went, threats taken down. And I stayed by his side, as he stayed by mine.

[castiels-majestic-wings]

Poems in the Dark

Paring: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 1,610

Warnings: None

Posted: 20/01/2021

Loki Taglist: @lucywrites02 @gaitwae

A/N: I couldn't find a fitting poem for this one shot, so i made my own. I hope its not terrible 🙏

Loki living in the tower was something you never thought you'd get used to. But after a couple of months of him not trying to kill anyone, you trusted him quite quickly. Tony on the other hand wouldn't let him anywhere near you unless supervised. You never got a moment alone with him. But you wanted to. During the time he's been here, you noticed the small things that others wouldn't. The way his eyes would cry silent tears. The way his body moved with his emotions. The way that words from the others affected him. You noticed it all, and developed feelings for the man. Of course, you couldn't let anyone know, well except for Natasha. She could see through any lie. But she promised not to tell anyone.

Luck seemed to be on your side today, everyone was on a mission, and Tony had reluctantly left you and Loki alone in the tower. You were a fighter. The avengers always tried to find time to train you. Tony had no choice but to leave you there alone, with Loki. The God of Mischief himself. He feared the worst when he left. But you had reassured him that you could handle yourself if Loki tried anything. Even though you knew he wouldn't. Having time to yourself was unusual, yet calming. You had sat down by the fireplace reading your favourite book of poems. You hardly had time to read anymore, so you took your chance to do so now. But as you got halfway through your book, the lights went out. You weren't exactly afraid of the dark. But being an Avenger, you knew it was bad news. Placing your book on the table and grabbing your dagger from the holster around your thigh, you headed to the fusebox. Was it tampered with, or was it just a normal blackout? By the time you got there, Loki was nearby unnoticed by you.

Noticing that it was a blackout you put your dagger back in its holster before swiftly turning and taking a step forward into a broad chest, belonging to the only other person in the building, Loki. Taking a step back, you apologized for bumping into him until you heard a low chuckle coming from him. You couldn't see his face in the darkness but you could make out the small features of his face. He looked calm, from what you could tell.

"The power's out, we should probably light the fire for some light" Starting a conversation with the man scared you, but the silence was deafening. Scrambling past him towards the fireplace, you placed the logs before lighting it. The orange glow hit the surface of your face which he studied from afar. You had grabbed your book from the table closeby and sat by the fire. He admired your love for books. It was one of the things you had in common. Yet you had never conversed, except for a friendly hello as you pass by each other, or the small talk when you had talked in groups. He couldn’t exactly read in his room anymore so he hesitantly sat down next to you facing the fire. He thought of how to bring up any conversation with you instead of staying silent. Then he noticed the book you were reading was one he had read a week prior.

“It seems you have great taste in the books you read. I have noticed the titles you read are mostly of the literary type.” Looking up at him you smiled. He never really liked conversing with anyone so the fact that he started one with you made your stomach fill with butterflies.

“Well yes, Tony doesn’t understand my love for reading, but there’s just something about the way they are written.-” You placed your book on your lap and your hands moved as you spoke, expressing your feelings within them. “-The way they take me out of reality, and into a different one, my imagination runs wild trying to see the images the authors are describing. It’s hard to talk about the stuff I enjoy when no one shares the same hobbies” You had realised you were rambling nonsense, looking down at the book in your lap grasping it in your hand as if it would be taken away if you let go.

“I share your admirations. Being centuries, old gives you time to read many more books that Midgardians could. I’m always craving knowledge, so I appreciate the Midgardian books that I have read in my time here.” Being stuck in the dark with the man you liked made you forget his love for books. Facing him once more you shuffled closer holding the book his direction, eyes sparkling with wonder.

“Have you read this one? I don’t read poems that often, but this one just called out to me.-” A soft giggle escaped your lips as you continued “-The poems show someone’s feelings in such few lines. It’s admirable really. Pouring your heart out in such a small amount of time. I wish I was as open as these poems were.” Sadness cascaded your features. Loki had taken the book from your grasp, causing you to glare at him playfully as he searched through the pages. He found the page he wanted and recited the poem to you.

The one person who helps me sleep at night.

“Within my darkness, you are the light,

The thought of you plagues my mind,

Though these feelings may be true,

For your heart is one, that’s so true, and kind.

Its something I can’t undo.

My love for you is something I hesitate,

I feel as though, you’re my soulmate.”

He refused to look at you as he closed the book and placed it down.

“I uh- That is one of my favourites. It kinda hits close to home, as you Midgardians would say.” He knew how smart you were, he figured you would figure out it was a confession quite quickly. But the silence made him more nervous than he was before. He daren’t speak a word. Waiting for your reply. When one didn’t come his eyes looked at your figure slowly, only to notice a single tear rolling down your cheek. His face was full of panic his flustered state not knowing what to do. He wiped the tear away while apologising profusely. You giggled at his actions facing your head down wiping the tears that continued to fall. He stayed silent at your laugh. The laugh that he adored was mixed with the tears he never wanted to see on your face. You looked up at him your voice but a whisper.

“You- You have feelings for me?” The shyness in your voice surprised him, you were always so outgoing, no one had ever seen you this quiet, or shy. He didn’t hesitate to reply, showing the sincerity in his voice.

“Yes. I know its stupid since we haven’t spoken-” He silenced at your interruption. Eyes fixed at your form, sitting in front of him.

“It’s not stupid, Loki. I get how you feel, because...I- I have feelings for you too” His eyes widened not expecting you to reciprocate his feelings. Neither of you knew what to do at this point. You were inexperienced with relationships. Being with S.H.I.E.L.D since you were 11, you were a trained assassin, much like Natasha, but seduction was one of your weaknesses. Loki might be centuries old, but he never had a genuine love interest. Thor was favoured by the women, as he was the one who always read, and never fought like a man since he used sorcery.

The fact that someone even had an interest in you made your heart flutter, but because it was him. Your heart burst. You took a leap of faith leaning in to kiss him, yet you hesitated. He had noticed, and closed the gap, placing his hand on your cheek, and the other on your knee. Your hand was placed against his chest, the other, you had palm down on the floor, using it for support. It was a kiss filled with passion, and the pure emotions you felt for each other. You didn’t know how long it was before you pulled away breathing in the oxygen your body lacked. He rested his forehead on yours, both breathing heavily, trying to catch your breath.

You both stayed in silence smiling at each other as you pulled away to take in his features in the low orange glow of the fire. It felt like hours that you were in his presence, but it was mere minutes before the power came back on. Letting your eyes adjust to the sudden light you missed the atmosphere the fire gave you. You got up and grabbed a spare blanket from your room and came back wrapping it around yourself and Loki before asking Friday to turn the lights off, so you could continue to enjoy each other's company in the atmosphere you had previously shared.

You had enjoyed his company slowly falling asleep to the peacefulness around you. He wrapped his arm around you as your head fell to his shoulder, falling asleep. Not long after, he did too.

Everyone had returned from their mission early that morning, but there you still slept, in the same position. The fire was out, but the small embers left on the logs showed it was used recently. You had awoken to Tony’s objection about how close you two were, and he was not happy. You had a lot of explaining to do.

[elizabeethan]

Watch the Sunlight Fade: 8 / 17

Emma Swan finds out that her boyfriend has been hiding something from her: he’s in a gang and trying to get out. Reluctantly, she decides to support him, sticking it out with him until they have enough money to flee to Florida. All she has to do is wait and ignore that feeling in her gut that something is seriously wrong. With the help of a kind and handsome stranger, she just might make it out alive.

Or, alternate summary: I’m horrible at summaries, please just read it.

Something of a cross between a What Still Remains AU and a Sons of Anarchy AU.

A/N: Things might be starting to come together this week! Let me know your predictions.

This chapter talks extremely briefly and ambiguously of Emma not exactly wanting to have sex with Neal. Also, there is a discussion of Killian’s semi-violent past. Nothing is detailed, but let me know if you need more information or anything!! 

Rated M

Get added to my tag list

Read the Rest

Read my Other Stuff

Read on Ao3

~~~~

The days turn into weeks, although Emma can’t help but feel as though time is dragging her along mercilessly. Nothing has changed since she found out about Neal, how he’s the brother of the leader of The Lost Boys. Nothing, aside from her feelings of safety and security, of confidence in her relationship, being completely shattered. 

 Every night, she fights off the desperation to walk across the hall and join Killian in his bed, letting his strong arms consume her and blanket her with a sense of ease and contentment. Every night, she fights with herself as she crawls into bed with Neal, a man she thought she loved, and forces herself to put on an act of affection towards him. She forces herself to lie back and accept his convoluted attempts at showing her that he loves her, knowing that he couldn’t possibly. If he loved her, he would never have lied to her. If he loves her, he would let her go. 

 She also fights with herself through the anger she feels, directed inward rather than at anyone else. Sure, she’s mad at Neal for what he’s done, what he’s putting her through, but at the end of the day, she’s the fool to let herself be put in this position. It’s her fault. She should have seen through his lies from the moment she met him, but she was too desperate for love and family and acceptance. He knew that, too, and he exploited her weaknesses like she meant nothing to him. 

 It drives her mad to not know what he’s after. She’s hardly the most skilled person at finding people who don’t want to be found, so why he feels the need to target her specifically, she can’t say. It could be argued that, in some perplexing, psychotic way, he thinks he loves her, but she knows now that this isn’t love. It can’t be. 

 Lying at his side, wide awake through her inability to sleep, she can’t seem to shut her mind off. Each time she closes her eyes, she feels terror at the memories burned behind her lids. Every time she closes her eyes, she sees Neal on top of her, despite her resolve to squeeze her eyes shut each time he decides he wants to be with her. Usually, she’s able to go to another place, letting thoughts of the beach or her happy future serve as a distraction of her fear, but sometimes she can’t ignore the feeling of his rough fingertips burning her skin. 

Sometimes, when she’s in Neal’s arms and struggling to get past the feelings that come along with being with him, she thinks of Killian. Not necessarily in a way of longing for him-- not because she wishes she was with him instead, although she can only assume it would be more pleasurable-- but because of the comfort that he always brings her. Being with him is like being embraced by warmth and safety itself. It’s like the rest of the world turns off, and all that’s on her mind is the soothing way his arms wrap around her and the gentle rise and fall of his chest against her cheek. She doesn’t have to worry when she’s with him. She only has to think about how good it feels to be in his arms. 

 And she’s noticed his physique, too. It would be difficult not to. She noticed that first night, when he lifted his sweatshirt off and pulled his t-shirt up with it. She noticed the other day when he visited her in her cave of an office, leaning his shoulder against the door frame with his arms crossed, muscles bulging out of his sleeves and a tempting smirk coloring his lips as he teased her over the dinosaur of a computer she was working on. She notices the way he looks with almost everything he does, and she knows it's a dangerous game that she’s playing. 

 It’s not like she never found Neal attractive. But knowing what she knows now, she can’t help but to feel slightly nauseated every time she sees his face. She’s got to get out of this. 

 ~~~~

 “Since you did such a good job with the last one, I have another little task for you,” Peter says, his voice teasing and his smirk unsettling. 

 Emma works hard to maintain her composure as she sits straight up in her seat, one she was finally awarded after weeks of standing awkwardly before the group sat at the table. Today, when she walked into the daunting conference room, Peter invited her to sit beside him, beside Neal, and has been leaning towards her in a way that she knows is meant to appear polite, but holds a threatening undertone.

 “Okay,” she agrees, trying to make her voice sound confident and fighting off the fear that never seems to go away. 

 He turns from her to Neal and remarks, “she really has begun to come into her own, hasn’t she?” 

 “I guess,” he shrugs, and a part of her feels offended at his nonchalance. Despite her strong desire to be anywhere but here, she thinks she’s done a pretty nice job of trying to fit in. Ever since Gold spilled the beans a few weeks ago about Neal’s status in the club, she’s held it together fairly well on the outside, with the exception of her initial breakdown. 

 There’s only one person she truly feels comfortable breaking down in front of. Only one person who she really trusts. 

 She hasn’t told Neal that she's found out his true identity. She and Killian have talked about it at length, sometimes able to spend time alone together especially when Neal leaves, and they’ve agreed that it’s for the best to keep her discovery under wraps. Gold’s subtle drop that Neal is his son and brother to Peter was purposeful, and she can’t let him come out on top. She knows, she’s terrified, but she’ll maintain her composure. For whatever reason, Neal doesn’t want her to know, so she’ll keep playing dumb. 

 “Who do you want me to find?” she asks, wanting nothing more than to prevent Neal from saying anything else casually offensive. His small digs at her serve a purpose, she now knows; to bring her down as far and as quietly as he can. 

 “This one may be a bit more of a challenge; a member from a rival gang. While Graham was more of a nomad, this man has ties to the Kings of Elsinore and is better protected. I want you to find out everything you can on him.” 

 “Okay,” she nods assuredly. “Well, I'll take whatever you have on him and get to work, then.” 

 Before she can move from her seat, Peter’s hand is on her wrist, oppressively holding her still. “Not so fast. There’s someone I’d like you to officially meet. Call in Hook.” 

 A man Neal knows, Walsh, she thinks, stands from his chair and walks towards the door, summoning someone inside. She has to stop her jaw from hitting the floor when she sees who. 

 “You two seem to have met casually, but I’d like you to officially meet Killian Jones. He’s gotten himself into a touch of trouble and, as punishment, will be helping you with whatever you need until this man is located.” 

 She gulps, anxiety setting in again despite how hard she’s been trying to keep it at bay. She promised herself she would be strong, refusing to let them get to her, to let them see her squirm. She will keep her promise to herself. “Okay,” she murmurs, forcing herself to peel her gaze from Killian’s. She can’t help but wonder what he’s done to get into trouble with Peter. She selfishly hopes they weren’t caught without her knowledge. 

 ~~~~

 “What happened?” she begs desperately once the door to her small office is shut, Killian ushering her into the room before practically slamming it. “What are you in trouble for? Killian, please tell me they don’t--” 

 “Nothing like that,” he hisses, stepping towards her. With a soft, gentle voice only just above a whisper, he says, “love, you have to stay calm. You did phenomenally pretending we don’t know each other well, but we have to keep up the ruse.” 

 “Sorry,” she whispers. “I know, I just… what happened?”

 “Nothing, love, I promise. I only refused to go on a trip with them last week and Peter feared I wasn’t dedicated to the club’s cause.” 

 “You did?” she asks in surprise. When Neal told her that he wasn’t dedicated, she forced herself to believe him. When Killian says it, she doesn't even consider doubting him. 

 “Aye. Told them I had pressing matters to attend to.” 

 She cocks her head suspiciously and asks, “what were the pressing matters?” 

 “The Mummy Returns was on TV, remember? We watched it together.” 

 She can’t help the smile that breaks across her face, a snort escaping her throat despite her best efforts as she shakes her head and feels a blush creeping up her neck and pinkening her cheeks. “You’re dumb,” she says, and she feels like a child in a playground with a school crush. 

 “Well,” he shrugs, giving her a beaming smile. “Here, love. I’ve got the information we have so far. Time to start digging.” 

 A part of her almost wants to take her time, content to sit in the small office with Killian sitting beside her for quite some time. No one would suspect a thing, what with Peter already telling her that this guy would be harder to find; it’s the perfect excuse to soak in all of the comfort and happiness that Killian brings her despite her circumstances. But she knows they have to keep up appearances so as to avoid being caught in their elicit friendship, so she’ll work at a normal pace and hope no one notices that her smile is genuine rather than the forced one she gives Neal. 

 James Spencer is certainly a hard man to find. If she didn’t already know that he was linked to the Kings of Elsinore, she would be lost, as the man seems entirely enigmatic in nature. He seems like a ghost, her research pointing her absolutely nowhere, but Peter insists that he’s got ties to this rival club, despite her finding no evidence to support his claim. 

 She groans after a few hours, dropping her head to the desk as Killian continues to bounce a tennis ball off the wall in his boredom. It certainly is a punishment for him; the fact that he has to sit here and watch her find nothing is likely eating him alive. “It’s only been a few hours, love, you’ll find something soon,” he tries to console. Her frustration wins out, though. 

 “This is stupid.”

 “Aye.”

 “Are all of these stupid gangs this hard to navigate around?” 

 “Aye, I'd assume so. Although, I've never been a bounty hunter.” 

 She rolls her eyes, picking her head up and glaring. “I wasn’t a bounty hunter. I was a bail bondsperson.” 

 “That’s different?” 

 She holds her hands out, requesting the ball from him and catching it when he tosses it, only to throw it back at him with too much aggression. He yelps and laughs at her too loudly, and she can’t help but smile in response. She settles back into her chair after the short reprieve and sighs. 

 “How can I find someone who doesn’t want to be found if I know absolutely nothing about the environment he lives in?” 

 He hums in agreement, nodding and remarking, “you need an inside man.” 

 “No, I just need to know how a fucking motorcycle gang works,” she grumbles. It’s been a confusing few weeks, and she realizes that, while she’s gotten a few small bits of information, she still has no idea what the club’s actual purpose is. “Like… why even bother having one?” 

 He gives her a soft smile, standing from his chair and dragging it closer to her. “Are you sure that’s what this is about?” 

 “What?” she asks indignantly, giving him a look that she seriously hopes conveys how annoyed she is. 

 “Your little tantrum, love,” he teases. “Is it really about not knowing enough about how gangs work? Or is it, perhaps, more about your need to know everything about a situation in order to convince yourself that you’re safe?” 

 With another glare shot his way, she drops her jaw in surprise and shakes her head. “What the hell do you know?” 

 He smirks. “I know a lot more than you think. You’re a bit of an open book, love. And I’ve known you long enough now.” 

 “To what, psychoanalyze me?” 

 “I may have considered studying psychology, had I gone to university,” he laughs. “I know you’re scared, and I'm beginning to realize that not knowing what’s going to happen, or what’s happening without you knowing, is probably feeding that fear.”

 With another heaving sigh, she drops her head back down, resting it on her arms and nodding. “You’re right,” she concedes, although part of her wishes he wasn’t. It’s true, though, being so in the dark about everything is making her feel weak. 

 His hand lands on her shoulder, staying there for a moment before he gently and slowly scratches his fingertips against her skin and pulls away. “I can tell you what I know, if that’ll help.” 

 She perks up, lifting her head and recalling a conversation from weeks ago in which he told her that his brother was an influential member of the club. “Yes,” she says, and why she didn’t think to ask earlier, she doesn’t know. 

 He gives her a nod and another one of his encouraging smiles, the one that always makes her heart skip a beat, and clears his throat. “What I know is that Neal is older, but Peter is in charge. From what I gather, and I was never privy to much, Neal went off on his own for a while and Peter took over everything. Gold’s always seemed a bit more… hesitant around Peter, but I almost suspect that he favors Neal. Either way, Peter was running things behind the scenes for quite some time before Neal left. When he came back, it was with you on his arm and with Peter happily leading, refusing to give up his spot. No one argued with him.”

 She nods, but it doesn’t tell her much. She’s always known that Neal is more of a follower, happy to do whatever he can to impress his friends. The fact that he willingly gave up what seems to be his birthright doesn’t really surprise her. 

 “So what are they doing when they go away on their trips?”

 “Usually seeking out merchandise. They deal in stolen goods, mostly watches and the like. Typically, a trip is a heist of some kind. A jewelry store, antique shop… sometimes even banks with safe deposit boxes.” 

 Emma looks down to her own wrist, Killian’s gaze following closely behind, and notes the watch she wears. The one that Neal gave her after one of his trips. She shudders and moves to take it off. 

 His hand stops her, looking into her eyes deeply and shaking his head. “Keep it,” he murmurs. “We can’t let them know that you know any of this.”

 “Why?” she asks in a whisper. “Why is it so bad if I know?”

 “I don’t know,” he shakes his head again. “But if Neal hasn’t told you, there’s a reason for it.”

 She nods in understanding, letting her heart rate slow as his hand remains on her wrist, moving down to the top of her hand. She wants to wrap her fingers around his, but she knows she shouldn’t. “Can I ask something about you?”

 “Of course.”

 “Why do they call you Hook?”

 His eyes drop from hers, glancing down at their joined hands, and she watches his brows knit together tightly. She feels his grip on her hand tighten, and despite both of them knowing it’s a bad idea, his fingers weave with hers and he squeezes her hand. She squeezes back. 

 “There are things about my past that… that when I think about telling you, I become…” he sighs, unable to finish his thought. 

 “Killian,” she whispers, “I already know you’re in a gang. Can it really be that bad?”

 “Aye,” he answers immediately, his eyes meeting her own in a desperate attempt to convey to her something she can’t quite read. “I’m not… a good man.”

 “Of course you are.”

 “No. Maybe I’ve never thrown knives at a woman I’m supposed to love, but I’ve certainly… I mean…”

 “Killian.” Her grip on his hand, the one she should release, tightens. “Whatever happened… you’re not that person. You’re good. I know bad people and I pegged you as good the second I saw you.”

 It’s as if he can’t meet her gaze, too ashamed of whatever it is that he’s done. Too fearful of what will happen if she finds out. He witnessed her finding out that Neal has been lying to her, and she wonders if he fears a similar response now. 

 “I don’t-- it’s silly,” he laughs. “I just… I don’t want to disappoint you.” 

 “You can’t,” she whispers. After everything he’s done for her, everything he plans to do for her, he could never disappoint her. 

 He sighs, squeezing her hand once more before turning it over in his and drawing a line across her palm. “I was a-- an angry lad growing up. My father abandoned us, my mother died. I found myself seeking release. Ways to get my anger out. I was never taught anything productive.” 

 She stays quiet, letting him open up to her on his own terms and distract himself by tracing the lines in her palms. “I came here at fifteen. Gold recruited me for… well, to put my anger to good use, in his eyes. He used me-- he’s always been good at picking out someone’s weakness and exploiting it. Whenever he needed information out of someone, he would bring me along and I would…” he sighs again, taking a deep and grounding breath. “I had a favorite weapon,” he mumbles. 

 With a nod, she tries to stay calm, tries not to let fear overtake her. She was fearful of Neal when he held the knives and smirked at her, and of Peter when he pressed the tip of the blade to his finger and smiled. But when she presses her hand to Killian’s cheek and makes him look up at her, she feels no fear. She sees only truth and regret and a longing to be a different person. 

 “It was a hook?” she asks for clarification, but she can see the answer in his eyes. 

 “From Gold’s boat,” he croaks. “That’s usually where we would take… the people we were interrogating. But, Emma, it’s been years. Liam found out and put an end to it. I think that’s--”

 “What?” she asks gently as he cuts himself off, shaking his head painfully. 

 “I think that’s when things started going poorly for him.”

 He’s done so much for her. He’s soothed every ounce of pain she’s felt since she got here, since Neal sliced her cheek and he touched it tenderly. He held her together as she cried harder than she ever had before. He’s vowed to see her out of this danger despite the predicament it puts him in. And still, she feels powerless to help him. He’s sitting before her, broken and in anguish, and she can’t heal him like he has her. 

 All she can do is take his cheeks in her hands and promise him, “that was not your fault.”

 “Emma,” he breathes, his eyes pleading with her, for what, she isn’t sure. “He… he kept insisting I stay out of it. He kept holding me back, refusing to let me go, putting up a fight… I think they got tired of it, eventually. Of someone constantly questioning them and going against their word. He’d still be here if I hadn’t--”

 “No. You had no hand in what happened to Liam. And when this is all over, you’re gonna be able to leave too.”

 It’s bold of her to assume that it’s something he wants. He’s told her plenty of times that he wants to help her escape, but he’s never mentioned a desire to leave himself. It’s bold of her to assume that that’s in his best interest. But when she looks at the sadness and regret in his eyes, a part of her knows that it must be. 

 “I’m sorry,” he murmurs after a moment of silence, and she lets him cast his gaze downwards again. “I should have--” 

 “It’s okay, Killian. The things you’ve done in the past don’t reflect who you are now.”

 “Of course they do,” he nearly spits, clearly angry with himself as he pulls away and throws his head back. “I was a monster then. How can you not think of me as a monster now? I’m no better than Neal or Peter.” 

 “Don’t say that. Peter would probably do something like that now if he wanted to. Would you?” She lets her voice rise just the slightest amount, feeling more intensity than before and finding it necessary to convey to him that she doesn’t see him as a monster. 

 “Of course not.” 

 “And Neal… don’t even get me started. He nearly pulled his gun on me last week because I asked him where he was going. Would you do that?” 

 “Emma,” he says softly, finally looking at her once more, and she knows what he’s thinking. She knows he wants her out of his apartment; out of his life. 

 “You’re not a bad person,�� she whispers, leaning closer to him just as he sits forward again, and they’re so close that she can feel his breath warming her nose. “I know bad people. You don’t qualify.” 

 He nods, his eyes deep and soulful as they bore into hers, and says, “I want to be a good person for you.” 

 No one has ever spoken to her like this. No one has ever expressed such a definitive desire to be worthy of her. No one has ever been so close to her and not made her instinctively want to pull away. And when she sees his eyes fluttering shut, his lashes touching his cheeks and casting long shadows in the dingy light, she wants to lean closer.

 She almost does, too, is tempted to close her eyes like he has and touch her lips to his, but there's a swift knock on the door and they spring apart so quickly that she kicks his shin, causing him to bend and silently groan. She cringes in apology as she jiggles the mouse to her computer, begging it to wake up before the knocker enters the room. 

 “Any luck?” Gold asks as he pokes his head in. 

 “None so far,” Killian answers easily, his persona shifting effortlessly and maintaining their cover. “Swan’s searching high and low, but we don’t know much about Spencer’s tactics yet.” 

 “And Hook’s been a help to you, Miss Swan?”

 “Yes,” she smiles, fighting the urge to lunge out of her chair and wring his neck for the name he’s given Killian and his insistence to still use it despite his obvious discomfort. 

 “It’s clear already that you have the club’s future in mind; I'm sure you’ll find something soon enough.” 

 She nods, staring as he walks away and cocking her head in confusion. “So weird,” she says softly once he’s gone, trying to remain quiet as he’d left the door ajar. 

 “What?”

 “That’s the second time he’s mentioned the club’s future, specifically. What does me finding this James Spencer have to do with the future of the club?”

 His response is a shake of his head, a slight roll to his eyes before he stills suddenly. His eyes widen as he looks down, then his brows knit together in thought, and she can clearly see the cogs turning in his mind. It’s like she’s watching him have an epiphany in real time. He looks up at her once, urgently, then he snaps out of it as if he’s remembering where he is, his demeanor shifting entirely as he smiles. “I’m not sure. The old man never makes any sense.” 

 “Killian…?” 

 “I’m sure it’s nothing, love. We’ll just keep working on finding Spencer, alright? There’s no need to worry.” 

 For a brief second, she feels distrustful of him. It’s reminiscent of when Neal tells her not to worry about things that she couldn’t possibly understand. It’s like he knows something, but he doesn’t think she's capable of handling the truth of whatever it is. For a brief, fleeting second, she doubts him. 

 But she can’t let herself think like that. Neal lies to her to protect himself. Killian has been nothing but honest with her, wanting nothing but her safety. Truthfully, if whatever he’s discovered is bad enough that he doesn’t want to tell her about it, she isn’t sure she wants to know. 

~~~~

~~~~

Tagging:  @courtorderedcake​​​​ @kmomof4​​​​ @stahlop​​​​ @klynn-stormz​​​​ @laschatzi​​​​ @emelizabeth88​​​​ @lfh1226-linda​​​​ @kday426​​​​ @elisethewritingbeast @timeless-love-story​​​​ @captain-emmajones​​​​ @gingerpolyglot​​​​​ @ebcaver​​​​ @ilovemesomekillianjones​​​​ @teamhook​​​​​ @superchocovian​​​​​ @itsfabianadocarmo​​​​​ @tiganasummertree​​​​​ @gingerchangeling​​​​​ @jrob64​​​​​ @onceratheart18​​​​​ @xhookswenchx​​​​​ @winterbaby89​​​​​ @swampmedusa​​​​​ @ultraluckycatnd​​​​​ @dancingnancyy​​​​​ @love-with-you-i-have-everything​​​​​ @shireness-says​​​​​ @snowbellewells​​​​​ @hollyethecurious​​​​​ @ouatpost​​​​​ @daxx04​​​​​ @the-darkdragonfly​​​​​ @donteattheappleshook​​​​​ @therooksshiningknight @eeteeaytay​​​​​ @xsajx​​​​​ @itsfridaysomewhere​​​​​ @alexa-fangirl-forever​​​​​ @jonesfandomfanatic​​​​​ @wefoundloveunderthelight​​​​​ @qualitycoffeethings​​​​​ @rapunzelsghosts​​​​​ @spaceconveyor @badcats-andmice​​​​​ @batana54​​​​ @sailtoafarawayland​​ @deckerstarblanche​​ @zaharadessert​​ @xarandomdreamx @hookedmom @pirateprincessofpizza

[woolmasterleel]

Alright, so what's the secret Sophia lore? 👀 :3

!!!!!!

Okay let me tell you all about my wife Demi's terrifying wife...

I think I've mentioned this here before, she used to live in a regular town, she studied there too. After that whole incident with her fiancé/fiancée, she left out of fear of being hunted.

The lab she escaped to is one she worked at periodically, so the people there were familiar with her. The thing about that lab was it wasn't regulated, no one owned it, and it wasn't under any government restrictions. She felt safe there because of it, so continued her studies there. She wasn't about to give up what she'd done for so long.

Overtime, she became the one in charge. The scientists who agreed to stay and help the research had to swear secrecy, which resulted in most cutting contact with anywhere else.

Sophia's research, to put it simply, involves figuring out how to make life from the surroundings. Take Demi, for example. He was the first successful experiment. His being was derived from the highly dangerous fungi growing on the island for centuries (which was a type of "mind-controlling" fungus, hence Demi's god complex- this also explains his "old and wise"-ness, technically he's been around for ages, only now he has the ability to communicate, among other things).

Does Sophia's research sound familiar? While she was a student, she across a particular publication. Finally, after years of sheltering his work, Dr. Kisaki Hizarou could finally make his discovery public. Of course, he did this since he wanted other scientists to learn how to do what he does- make organs from, well, nothing. He new having the means to make these could save so many people. Of course, Kisaki's discovered many other things, those remain private to him, however.

A young Sophia Synthaelda was absolutely mesmerized by this discovery. She immediately set out to learn everything she could, even having to chance to be taught directly by Dr. Hizarou. After that, she built upon her new knowledge, formulating new hypothesis, testing those, rinse and repeat, until she finally began to find something that worked. She began to narrow down a technique, eventually becoming ready to see if she could pull off creating a human-like living being from plant life. Why did she want to do this? She believed it could aid in humanity's evolution in their ever-changing world.

Unfortunately, this was when her so-called lover tried to take that research, and Sophia's life. She escaped, taking her work with her, there was no way she would leave that behind.

From that day onward, she stayed on the island, not ever leaving the lab. She, understandably, became very cold and accusatory, hardly telling anyone what she was doing.

I've rambled about how she didn't like Demi, she found him annoying, all that stuff, so I wanna talk about her design...

Her skin and hair are so pale because she hardly gets any sunlight, she is visibly exhausted and often refuses to rest. Using her research, she created those four eyes, which are connected to the lab's security alarm... should anything suspicious be caught by these eyes, the alarm with sound.

This was unintentional, but, if you look at the eyes...

(super fast scribble for visual reference)

The bottom set look sad, while the top part look very angry... very fitting for Sophia given everything that happened ╯︿╰

Thank you so much for asking about her!! I could keep going off but this is getting long.. hope you enjoyed reading it (✿◡‿◡)

[darylandbethfanforever9]

Devil’s Backbone

Devil’s Backbone

Chapter 5 

Story Rating: Explicit, 18+

Warnings: Smut, violence, past flashbacks of sexual assault, descriptions o torture, racial hate and forced abortion. Not Tony Stark friendly.

Relationships: Bucky/OC, Steve/Natasha, Billy/Wanda/Grant, past Clint/Laura, eventual Clint/Yelena and Frank/Karen.

Summary: In the aftermath of the Blip, Bucky struggled to find his place among the world and the Avengers. However, when he is sent on a mission to Madripoor to investigate a young woman, he starts to realize that maybe his past isn’t too far behind him. Co-Written with WalkingPotterGirl14

Nat was acting weird. Clint usually was a very noticeable guy. He may be the man that never misses, but he was also the man that could read people like a book. And right now, Nat was acting very much not like herself, even with her usual stoic face.

He felt like she was hiding something from him and Laura, which made him conflicted. He knew Natasha's past with the Red Room was horrific, but she was keeping something secret, and had been on the phone to a woman last night. She usually never went on calls late at night. Sighing, he texted Laura to let her know that he was alright and that the kids were settling into school. After Tony had exposed their location to Thaddeus Ross, he'd had to move them to the outskirts of New York. He frowned when he saw Natasha in the conference room, running the facial recognition software. The tech had been created by Pym Industries and X-Con Security Consultants, as Stark Industries' facial recognition software was for more expensive and didn't always work. "What are you doing, Nat?" he asked quietly. Natasha ignored him as he entered the room. She was reading a file that was in Russian. "Trying to find out who this mysterious woman is, Clint. Steve isn't exactly talking to me right now, so I have to do this on my own," she answered harshly, causing him to grimace at her answer. Steve and Natasha's relationship had become strained after she had survived Voromir and revealed that she had been pregnant. Then she had suddenly broken up with Steve, devastating the man. He knew how much Steve loved Natasha. He'd been a shell of himself after Natasha had supposedly died. The man was far more guarded now and simply kept things civil with Natasha. "You should have told him, Nat. He loves you and it clearly shows in the way that he looks at you," he argued firmly, trying to understand why Natasha was acting this way. Natasha refused to acknowledge Clint's words. She knew Steve loved her, but she just didn't feel like she wanted children. She was upset that she had miscarried, but she hadn't been sad in the same manner as Steve had been.

Ana had gotten ready for Sharon's art gallery. She had decided to wear a red dress for tonight made with red satin and had a V-neck. It would partially show the faded burns on her chest, but no one would hardly notice them. She didn't like thinking about the burns, or the agony they had caused. It was better to just forget about it. She finished applying her makeup, adding some eyeliner and grabbed her handbag. She had put a knife in there, along with her cell phone and lipstick, before heading out. The car was waiting for her outside the building, and with a quiet smile, it drove her across High Town to where Sharon lived.

Bucky had left Sharon’s after a little but to head back and get ready for the real art show tonight. While he did, he had memorized everything for the mission, including his backstory and the reason as to why he was in Madripoor, looking at himself in the mirror. He'd showered, and let some slight stubble grow on his face for tonight. He was wearing a black blazer, black trousers, and a black shirt. He nodded to himself as he left the bedroom and said goodbye to Alpine. The cat meowed at him affectionately, before going to sit on the bottom of the cat bed. He'd made sure that no one would be able to break into the house, using the security system to its best advantage for heading out. He left his place after making sure he had everything that he needed, including his gun, a knife, and keys. He walked to the motorcycle, getting on, and quietly drove to Sharon's house.

The party was in full swing when Ana arrived at the house. She smiled at Conrad, who had already arrived and was with his girlfriend. He raised a glass to her from the corner as she approached. Sharon was showing a client some beautiful paintings as she wandered around, admiring the art gallery. She was about to ask Sharon about a Van Gough painting when a strange silence fell over the room as most eyes headed towards the door. Curiously, she turned around to see a young man with short dark brown hair, dressed in clothes that made it clear he was part of the Russian Mafia. Her brow raises in surprise. His eyes though were what caught her attention. They were a dark grey, like a wolf's eyes. She couldn't shake off the feeling…that they had met before but where? No, no way. She hadn't met anyone like that. Or at least…her memory sucked. "Everyone, this is one of my clients who has come from Moscow, Russian. His name is Yakov Surkov," Sharon said calmly, introducing the man, who nods. Ana got the sense that this man was dangerous. "He's a Russian mobster," Conrad whispers to her discreetly as they turned back around. "He doesn't do the usual Mafia stuff, but he sells weapons to resistance groups who fight dictators." She raised an eyebrow at his words, watching the man intently as he walked up to the bar to get a drink. She wasn't surprised when he ordered a Ruskova vodka to drink. The party returned to normal quickly after, with many people returning to what they had been doing. She excused herself from Conrad, whispering that one of the paintings he was looking at would be hers to which he laughed, and sat at the bar contently. She enjoys her glass of red wine, when she got the sense that someone was watching her. She glances up and feels herself smile when her eyes dance across the room at Yakov, who had been looking directly at her. Without breaking contact, he downs his drink before standing, walking over to her. Ah, a man of confidence, she could see. However, as he moved closer, a weird sense of peace settled over her. Conrad had told her who he was, what he did, but coming over to her, she didn't feel fear. In fact, his eyes almost felt familiar. It was such a strange sensation. But even so, she didn't let it show on her face. "You came over her nice and quick," she remarks, her brow raising. "Almost like you're on a mission." "What can I say? When I see something, I like, I know what I want." Okay, now that brought some colour to her cheeks. He was smooth. "For a Russian man, your English is very good." "I've been around them enough in the past for me to know. Takes some practice but you learn to work with it well." He reaches out and holds her hand, bringing it to his lips in a kiss. "Yakov Survok." Oof, he was pulling out all the stops. She couldn't remember the last time she had been treated with such respect from a single man. Surely not of this year, that's for sure. However, she still had her smarts ahead of her, and knew that it wouldn't be too brilliant if she gave out her regular name. So, she instead smiles and states back another name. "Maria Kapitonova. It's a pleasure to meet you." He lowers her hand again, smiling. "A pleasure to meet you as well." He glances around and gestures to this. "You been going to this for some time? I've never seen you around." "You've been here before?" "Couple of occasions," Yakov states quietly. "Usually for business reasons, but I've been to Sharon's a couple of times, trying to find the right piece for back home. However, I recently decided to move here all together." Ah, so he was in the area? Good to know. "To be honest, I haven't been here that often," she states lightly. "I only just recently showed up in the city…had some high friends in some good places so they got me into this big shindig. Sharon is a nice woman…smart one too." "That she is," he agrees before raising an eyebrow at her. "So, you're new to Madripoor?" "I am, yes." "Well, obviously you do know the city…isn't necessarily safe." Ana chuckles a bit. "Trust me, I know. But I think it was exactly what I needed. A change of scenery. Last place I was in was far too cold." The man snickers a bit. "I've heard that the summers in Madripoor are beautiful. I look forward to it." She looks back at him. "Then why did you move here?"

"As you said. A change of scenery," he agrees lightly. "It can be quite cold in Russia too." Ana smiles a bit and nods. "That is true…I've been there as well. All over the world. It's almost like people, in a way." At his furrowed brow, she continues. "Every person has warm and cold parts in a way. When you're close to someone, you get to see their warm parts, but if you anger them, the cold parts emerge, as vicious as ever. But even in the cold you can find warmth sometimes, and coldness withing the warmth – if that makes any sense." She found herself chuckling at the end. "I'm sorry. Maybe the wine is getting to me." Yakov chuckles before shaking his head. "No, I…I get it, really." He glances at the ground. "God knows I've had my fair share encounter with warm and cold places within me." Ana could see a bit of a fight in his eyes, glancing at the ground. He clearly had some sort of past, and for a moment, she forgets that they were practically strangers and reaches out, squeezing his arm. It causes him to look up. "We all do. That's the beauty of people. They're complex and wonderful in every way. If you're not willing to accept all parts of someone, then why even try?" That causes him to smile as well, although this one was smaller. "That is true…a beautiful statement for a beautiful woman." Ana rolls her eyes. "Now you're just saying that." "I mean it," he argues back, but there was a certain twinkling in his eyes that had her smiling. She takes the last sip of her wine, standing. "Well…thank you, Yakov." She clears her throat, remembering that she wasn't here to flirt with men. She needed to focus on actually getting the art she needed. "I have to use the restroom, but after that I plan to peruse the art here. Do you want to join me?" "I'd love to," he answers back with a smile. "Good," she responds back, offering her own grin before turning around, grabbing her purse, and heading to the restroom. Jeez, she hadn't felt something like that in…God knows how long. She wondered what Yakov had to offer her. Maybe being friends with a mafia man would benefit her greatly.

God-fucking-damn, she was gorgeous. As soon as Bucky had arrived back at Sharon's place for this whole party she was throwing for the art, she had directed him directly to where the mystery woman she knew was sitting at the bar. And while Bucky of course followed up on her and began to talk to her, trying to learn her name – Maria, of all things, but he knew that was most likely a front – and all about her for his own case, he couldn't deny the beauty that she had.

She had the most beautiful eyes that he had ever seen, a light grey that he compared to opals. She had wavy dark brown hair that was almost black but had a mahogany colour. She was tall, but barely reached his height. The red silk dress flattered her figure and emphasized the curves she had. He noticed a few men were watching her as she left for the restroom, her hair glowing in the disco lights. She was most certainly a looker, that was for sure. "Enjoying the party, Yakov?" a voice asked with amusement. He turned around to see Sharon had come over to the bar, and had ordered herself a Piña colada, eying the drink that he was drinking. "It's enjoyable, Miss Carter. And I just met the delightful Maria Kapitonova. She's a charming young woman," he answered smoothly as he saw a young woman with blonde curly hair enter the art gallery and go to the restroom. "That she is. She's friendly with Conrad Mack, the Smiling Tiger, Melissa Gold who is known as Songbird and two hackers called Polina Astakhova and Evan Drake. She's making a name for herself in this city - plus she's laid down some ground rules for everyone," Sharon said impressed. After a moment however, she turns him around, looking at him carefully. "Be careful, Bucky. She's not like most of the people who live here but she's dangerous. She's killed at least three folks who didn't abide by the new rules," she said warningly. Before he could reply, Maria returned from the restroom, her bag in her hands. "I'd love to see the new art collection you've acquired. Sharon, I heard from Conrad and Melissa that you have some art nouveau pieces?" Maria asked curiously. She'd loved the art nouveau art and architecture. Bucky takes her up on that. "I'd like to see this art collection as well, Sharon. I have a deep fondness for Art Deco, and Art Nouveau style," Bucky added, genuinely interested. Sharon smiled, as she showed them the collection upstairs, moving along gracefully through the halls until they arrived where it was. Bucky admired the paintings on the wall, knowing fully well that these paintings and sculptures were the real deal. Most of the paintings and sculptures in the museums and art galleries, including the Louvre, were elaborate fakes. "I'll take those and some of your Asian Art collection as well, Sharon," he answered smoothly, handing her a wad of cash in Russian ruble. She smiled at him as she took it. "You have great taste," she mutters to him, to which he chuckles. Both of them saw Maria admiring the one of the paintings on the wall, before she turns to Sharon. "I'd like to buy this and a few other pieces," she said softly. Sharon smiled and arranged to have them sent to her house, as well as Bucky's place.

The party continued going on in their absence. Bucky noticed that some people were smoking marijuana. He didn't have a problem with people taking it. He knew Leah smoked the painkiller to help relive her back pain she'd gotten from a car accident during the Decimation. It had nearly paralyzed her. He glanced up at the grandfather clock to see the time and was astonished to see it was 2:30 AM in the morning. He saw a young woman with silver hair that had pink highlights at the front, and she came over to greet Maria. So she was using an alias to keep her real identity a secret? On that he didn't blame her. If Thaddeus Ross found out that there was another survivor of the Red Room aside from Natasha and Yelena, then things would get ugly. He would check in with Steve, Sam, and Wanda along with the others tomorrow. He went to say goodbye to Sharon and Maria, and found them talking to Conrad Mack, his girlfriend Jeannette and Melissa. "You heading off, Yakov?" Conrad asked amused. The Russian mobster had a cat that he was fiercely protective of. God help the idiot who tried to hurt it. They'd have the White Wolf hunting them down, like John Wick. "Tired from the flight. The party was wonderful Sharon. And it was lovely to meet you, Maria," he said smoothly, kissing Sharon on the left cheek. She flushed, chuckling a bit. Deep down Bucky hoped Sam wouldn't get upset about that. He knew there was something brewing between the two. He smiled at Maria, shaking her hand. He could smell her perfume from where he was. It smelt of lilies, red roses, and cherry blossoms. "I hope to see you again, Yakov," Maria said softly. He smiled at her as he watched her go inside and got onto his bike before taking off.

Steve, Sam, Wanda, Clint and T'Challa were in the conference room with Fury looking over the photos. They had been taken by Bucky when he had been at Sharon's art gallery. "Ok, so I've identified most of the guests at the party. Conrad Mack also known as the Smiling Tiger, was there with his fiancé, Jeanette Deveraux. Now, believe it or not, his criminal record isn't that bad. He sells marijuana to people on low incomes, and he is an arms dealer, but he sells weapons to Algeria, where there is a civil war going on due to the former prime minister coming back and trying to make a dictatorship," Amy explained patiently. "What about the chick with the gorgeous breasts and pink highlights? Did our Manchurian Candidate I.D. her as well?" Tony asked rudely, causing most of the team to stare at him in disgust at his cruel jibe towards Bucky. "Stark, don't call Bucky that. It's insensitive and unkind," Sam said firmly, before Steve could speak in defense of his friend. Tony had becoming very unkind towards Bucky since he had joined the Avengers. Tony started laughing at Sam's words, an expression of disbelief, contempt and disgust on his face. "Oh I'm sorry, Wilson - or wait is it Captain America? You think I shouldn't be unkind and insensitive to the bastard who strangled my mother to death and is the reason the team broke up?!" he shouted angrily, slamming his fist on the table. The piece of furniture rattled violently, and Peter squirmed uncomfortably in his seat. "It wasn't Bucky's fault, Mr. Stark. He is as much as a victim of HYDRA as were your parents," T'Challa said compassionately, but firmly to the man. "I don't care. He killed my goddamn mother! Because of Barnes and the man who I call father, I lost my mother, and Rogers had the nerve not to tell me!" Tony raged, his face turning red with anger. "When could I tell you, Tony?" Steve asks. "I didn't know if Zola was telling the truth at the bunker, and everything was a mess. I'm sorry I didn't tell you, sooner. Truly, I am. But you wouldn't answer my calls after retiring from the Avengers and the Accords happened," he reasoned calmly, trying to keep his temper. "Barnes should be rotting in the Raft or be fucking dead. He's a murdering, sociopathic bastard who ruined my life! He's the reason why Morgan doesn't have a grandmother!" Steve's hands turn to fists, but he refuses to yell. He wouldn't stoop so low as to lose his temper. So instead, he stands, aiming at him. "You don't think that Bucky feels that every day? You don't think he hasn't apologized and tried to make amends with every damn person he's hurt in the past? If anything, you don't even have the right to talk, because you've had so many people that you have hurt in the past as well. Do you deserve to be rotting away?" "You want to know everything I've done for this organization? For this country? I know that we've hurt others and we've tried to redeem that by singing the Accords and trying to make things right! Barnes was a literal psychopath that, just because we choose to believe what the Wakandans did, he's out there right now just living when he could snap at any moment!" T'Challa raises an eyebrow. "Are you questioning the power of Wakandan technology?"

Tony sighs and raises a hand to T'Challa. "I have nothing against you or your power, your highness. Your tech is great. My issue is with the current former assassin that is on the streets!"

"Will you two sit down!" Fury snaps angrily, causing the two of them to let out a puff of anger before doing so. "I know that you two don't get along but for the love of God get your damn selves together, because if don't figure out what is going on, then we might have another fucking breach." He angrily waves his hand. "Tony, the rest of your team head out and do a bit more research on Madripoor. Steve, called up Barnes and get more info. And when we get back, you two act like fucking adults."

"Yes, sir," was a collective muttered response.

Steve saw Tony glare at him before getting up, heading out with the others. Steve goes to talk to him but feels someone reach out to him, and he turns to see Wanda, shaking her head.

"It's not worth it," she says softly.

Steve sighs before running a hand along the back of his head, and turning around. "You're right." He looks to Sam and Wanda, who then he nods towards the meeting room. "Let's go call up Bucky."

[my-writings-and-musings]

oof,, now i wanna see a scenario where max actually ends up killing the tiny human for maximum angst,,, ur stuff is seriously so good.

The angst is real. These are real angst hours. I'm glad you like what I make! I enjoy hurting these bots I love and I have no idea as to why...

WARNING

THERE IS DEATH BELOW, ALONG WITH SADNESS, EMOTIONAL TRAUMA, GRIEF, AND A WHOLE LOT OF ANGST. THOUGH THE ENDING IS SOMEWHAT HOPEFUL READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION.

The level of guilt and grief had shaken him down to something in the depths of his core, and the onslaught of it all had nearly killed him, his spark all but flickering out when he was given the news. He'd still been in Rung's office, having ended the whole ordeal by pleading for help and promising not to hurt anyone so long as the little human limp in his hands received care. But of course it had been too late...

He hadn't remembered anything about collapsing beyond the incredible hope not to wake up again. Yet, despite everything he had done, Ratchet had put him on spark support and stabilized him. Why was a mystery he didn't have the energy to solve. Cuffed to the berth, he'd asked only to be taken offline for his transgressions, and had refused to eat. When the medics had put him on an energon drip, he'd wondered if his punishment had already been decided and would be the worst possible for a bot like himself; living with what he'd done. They even prevented the multiple attempts to terminate him from various members of the crew...

Rung had been his only non violent visitor, beyond the bots in charge. They'd all been stiff, but the sweet little phsychiatrist had been comforting, as if Max was the one who deserved empathy in all this. Nothing had occurred to him to say beyond how sorry he was and that he didn't mean for any of it. Primus bless his overly soft spark, Rung had forgiven him for what he could, assuring him that the trauma he'd suffered was capable of twisting any spark.

But, he'd also pointed out, it wasn't his place to forgive for the one who wasn't with them anymore. Such a thing could really only come from himself...

He'd cried when he'd heard that for the first time. Cried like a little sparkling after having an energon candy snatched away. The smaller bot had just held him, as much as he could with their differing sizes and positions, and gently encouraged him to let out the pain as long as he needed to. Had his body not been so frail he'd have likely wept for much longer. The pain was just overwhelming, as the phsychiatrist had just told him more or less that he'd never be forgiven.

Because he'd never be able to forgive himself.

Still, for reasons he didn't understand, he'd kept living and the others had refused to let him die. Most of it what you might call his "recovery" had been a blur. Between the grief and the guilt his spark had been determined to snuff itself out, but the skilled medics had refused him even that much, looking progressively less angry as they did so. Ratchet had actually appeared to pity him, something he found both unfathomable and at times infuriating. Regular sessions with Rung did little to soothe that desire to be hated.

He'd have probably continued that way for eons, even after being moved to the cells once his spark was strong enough to handle living on its own, but fate had thrown the entire ship down a very different path.

It had done so in the release of Overlord.

Like a warbeast, he'd been unleashed to take care of the rampaging monster, if only because death for all was guaranteed if the gleeful murderer went undefeated. With nothing to live for and everything to die for, he'd taken the opportunity almost gladly. There had been nothing to hold him back when he met his tormentor. Fear had stood no chance against his pure and unfathomable hate, but he didn't care at all for avenging himself, his spark burned for a life that had been lost in his own hands. It had been almost comically clear to him; he didn't need to be forgiven, but he hardly shouldered all the blame, for who had twisted him into what he was today? Who had caused nothing but suffering from the moment his spark had emerged from the Well? Who was smiling through it all?

The battle had been long and, even to experienced veterans, gruesome. He'd been torn apart, but pain had seemed so minor it simply didn't stop him. Pink energon had slicked up the floor beneath them, and when firepower had become unavailable the two had resorted to grappling with raw strength, fighting more like animals than bots. It had been agonizing due mostly to how desperately he needed to not die. Death wasn't an option unless this monstrosity went first. Looking into those twisted optics had been an excellent source of motivation, both at the beggining of the battle and towards the end, even as his vision began to fail from the strain of keeping himself going.

The final push had become possible when he saw what he'd wanted so desperately; Overlord was afraid.

Because he knew he was losing.

According to witnesses, the murderer had actually made an effort to flee in the end, but Max had finished him off by hunting him down and pinning him to the energon and viscera soaked ground.

A crack to Overlord's chassis had been his only target, one he attacked with primal fury using what remained of his arms and servos, clawing and tearing like a starving beast tunneling for a meal. As the armor had peeled back to reveal a sickly green spark, the former tormentor had actually begged. Max had heard none of it, taken no pleasure in the reversal of their roles, and had instead been unnaturally silent as he worked. This wasn't about his revenge. When his digits had secured about that spark, they'd actually burned from the heat of it, as if the accursed thing had come from the Pit itself. Yet he'd persisted, not even looking the now pitiful Overlord in the optics. The Phase Sixer was no longer a concern.

All he remembered before the blackness was how unusual a sound the heated orb in his hand had made upon being wrenched outwards, like the cracking of organic timber, only to collapse between his digits with the sound of thick glass shattering all at once. The explosion had taken his arm off, but pain had dissapeared from his being on every level. In fact, he'd known only that his battered face was smiling in what he believed to be the end. It was the small and content smile of knowing a job was done. Perhaps that was the closest someone like him could get to absolution, but even as his body had hit the floor, he hadn't minded whether or not the afterlife would deem him worthy of peaceful eternity.

Because if it didn't, he'd have the opportunity to do this again, and then perhaps Overlord would face a modicum of justice in eternity...

He could have sworn he saw you in the still silence, but that made little sense for a multitude of reasons. Though he could have passed it off as the effect of a million life saving treatments while he hovered on the edge of death, a state he apparently spent weeks in, he had decided to view the moments in your presence as an eternal mystery. You'd smiled and had assured him everything was fine, but had always been that way. Shushing any efforts at apology, you'd embraced his palm just as you'd done once in life, but this time the warmth of your touch seemed to fill his entire frame. It hadn't been enough for him to forgive himself, but he'd known peace. The one who'd started the vicious cycle of hurt was no more, and he promised it would end with him. Though he'd still fight, it would only ever be as a guardian. Wherever he ended up...

The soft beeping of countless monitors and the hum of just as many life supporting machines had replaced your voice when his optics had finally opened. Unable and unwilling to move, he'd been plagued by hurt in every solid inch, save for something far less unpleasant on his right hand.

Rung had been there when his optics finally found the strength to roll in his immobile helm, and the tiny mech had looked ecstatic to see him wake, calling for Ratchet as his small hand secured its grip on his. There had only been enough energy in him to stay awake a few minutes, but that had been all he needed to see the bursting shelf of Innermost Energon left for him. Apparently his victory and subsequent survival had redeemed him for most. That didn't really matter to him, nor did the assurance his crimes would be absolved in the wake of his considerable... extenuating circumstances and actions of atonement. Recovery had come impossibly slowly, and with all that quiet he finalized his plans for the future, finding endless companionship and motivation in his tireless therapist.

He'd live for you, every day that remained of his own life, to shape the galaxy into one as bright as it had been with you in it. Nothing could undo the past, but further wrongs might be prevented. The first hope he felt in forever was that you'd approve of his decision.

Support me here if you like my writing! Every donation helps me secure more time to create, and the same goes for commissions, which are always available!

[missgarnet]

Where We Stand

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Word count:5.7k

Genre: angst with fluff

Warnings: pregnancy, mentions of past miscarriage, blood and injury, Duchess Min and other characters from Stay,  I swear there’s a happy ending

Summary by @minjoonalist​: fluff, pain, almost pain, spain without the s' and fluff?

Link to ao3

Happy Birthday @sope-and-shine​ Belle, I love you! (also I’m sorry for not killing anyone off in this story, I just couldn’t) 

I also want to say thank you to @minjoonalist​ and @sope-and-shine​‘s Fae for reading through this to helping me edit and think of titles!

“How do I look darling?” you ask, slipping the thin dagger into the hidden slit in the corseted top of your dress.

The duke stepped closer to you and took in the reflection of the two of you together. You watched in the mirror as he swept your hair to the side and started to kiss you, his lips a gentle whisper against your neck. “You look… powerful. I’d have to be an imbecile to ignore that.”

“Is that it?”

You feel his lips forming a smirk against your skin, “Of course not, you’re stunning and you know it just as well as I do. How was I lucky enough to find a wife as brilliant and beautiful as you.” His hands find themselves at your waist, trailing back to play with the laces of your dress.

“Yoongi,” you laugh as you swat his hands away. “They just finished getting me all dressed up in this, I don’t want to call the maids back to retie this again.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t already, you normally make them redo this until it’s as tight as you can get and both of you are exhausted.” He wraps you in his arms again and turns the two of you to face the mirror, “unless you’re…”

He can feel the sharp breath you take, realizing he’d figured it out. “Please, don’t get excited, it's too early for that. I don’t want to tell anyone else just yet.”

“Who else knows?”

“My maid, she thought it was weird when I asked her to find dresses with a higher waistline. She figured it out pretty soon, and I politely asked her not to say anything just yet.”

“Mmhmm, and what do you mean by politely asking this time.”

“I may have… accidentally… threatened to have her tongue removed if she so much as hinted to it”

“You never cease to amaze me, my love.”

A sharp knock on the door interrupted the few moments of alone time you had left. The two of you rushed to finish getting dressed for the day, this meaning countless weapons being discreetly tucked away in the many hidden pockets of your clothing. It was an important day, and you made it a rule to be prepared for anything and everything that could go wrong. Today you had one mission and no one was going to get in your way, not even the king himself.

Looking back you should have said no when she asked you to walk her down the aisle. Traditionally she should have had a family member to give her away, but tradition be damned, if your best friend and closest ally wanted you by her side then nothing was getting in your way.

By the time you got there the poor dear was already panicking as she paced the floor of her dressing room. “What if I mess up or trip and the entire court starts making fun of me”

“I’ll give them something else to talk about.” You said, instinctively reaching toward your favourite dagger. It’s jeweled angel wings sitting at the very top of your gown, giving the appearance of a simple broach when tucked into it’s spot atop your corset.

“Y/N, no weapons. How many times do we have to say this, stabbing people doesn’t solve problems. It only creates more.”

You scoffed at her reply, knowing fully well that it was the first thought you had. “First of all, I wasn’t going to stab anyone… this time. Second, there’s no rule against blackmail or accidently sharing information that would draw far more attention to others.”

“I don’t know how you did this. You didn’t even know Yoongi when the two of you got married, I’ve known Tae far longer and I’m still way too nervous for all of this.”

“Are you kidding me?” You laughed, “I was a wreck on my wedding day. Hell, I practically had to be dragged down the aisle and I would have clawed my way out if I could. I wanted nothing to do with it, then again that wasn’t really up to me. Even afterwards I was still too nervous to actually talk to him, it was much easier to argue and plot all the ways I could get rid of him.”

“You were planning to divorce him?”

“Oh Queenie, divorce was mild compared to what I had in mind.” You smiled at the memories of when you first moved in with your husband. The two of you had barely spent a minute alone, and were at each other's throats any time you were in the same room. He expected someone docile, sweet, and a little fearful of him the way that almost everyone else was. What he hadn’t expected was to be matched with a wife even more stubborn and intimidating than he was, you had become the first true rivalry he had ever experienced and it was thrilling.

It didn’t help him to find out that he had met the only person with a reputation worse than his own among the court, nor that you had found ways to win over his entire staff in a matter of days. Despite being incredibly talented and an excellent asset to have on his side, Yoongi seemed determined to prove that he was still the one in charge for those first few months. Everyday was a competition and the two of you had engaged in a seemingly endless battle of bickering and petty vengeance against one another. Your favourite of these occurred after he made it a point of removing you from a meeting with the generals. He should have known better than to mess with someone who was feared by the court and adored by both his family and his staff.

That next morning as the sun began to rise Yoongi was nearly blinded by the amount of light pouring into his chambers, waking up to the smell of burnt fabric and charred toast. You could hardly contain your laughter when one of the staff recalled being called into the sight of him slipping on his robe only to find that the right sleeve had been completely torn off. Tears ran down your face as you heard about him storming around the room looking for something to wear to meet you at the breakfast table only to find most of his clothes had been sent off to the tailor to be altered or repaired in some way and he had been left with an assortment of mismatched clothing and heavy winter suits. That morning neither of you felt willing to give each other the satisfaction of reacting to the other’s actions. Showing weakness was to show defeat, and neither of you planned on losing. You couldn’t help but feel a sense of just pride as you watched your husband shift in his seat clearly displeased with the current state he was in, almost laughing as he hobbled in missing his left shoe.

You had almost missed the defeated sigh he gave as he took his seat across from you. If he were like any other man you knew, he’d have given you the outburst of rage that you had been preparing yourself for. Instead he had a rather gentle gaze as he met your eyes from across the table and spoke in a soft almost admiring tone, “We can’t keep doing this. I mean seriously, destroying my curtains, burning my breakfast, and ridding me of my entire wardrobe in one morning. And why? I’ve done nothing to offend you.”

The servants quickly began backing out of the room in anticipation of another argument between the two of you.  “Nothing? You really think you’ve nothing wrong?” The icy glare you were so determined to keep directed at him was the only thing holding tears of frustration at bay. But you refused to let him or anyone else see you crying. “Yoongi, you undermine me at every opportunity available, making sure that I have no say in what is going on around me. I have no family here, no friends, no allies on my side. Everything here is about you, while I am constantly pushed aside and belittled by even your guards and servants. I was one of the most brilliant women my age. I learned the arts of battle, bribery, and blackmail by the age of five, and perfected each of them by eleven. And the worst part is all of that is going to waste, I am wasting away and it is all your fault.”

“I’m sorry I had no clue. I just thought you’d want a break from having to fight all the time, I guess I should have noticed this was wrong when you seemed so determined to argue at every opportunity possible.

“You really are an idiot sometimes.”

He laughed at this, the two of you finally sharing a moment of understanding and bonding over as you later called it his very best moment of complete stupidity.

As you sat there recalling all of this your eyes began to water and you let out a quiet sniffle. The two of you had been through so much since then and with very limited exceptions you wouldn’t change a thing. You may not have had the best of beginnings with each other, but he’d done his best to make up for that every day that you’ve shared since then. The two of you still bickered, but it was more affectionate and caring now that you’d decided to save your fury to defend one another.

“Y/N are you crying?” your best friend placed her hand over yours in a comforting gesture.

“No, of course not.” You tried to dry your eyes, but the gesture was not as subtle as you had hoped. “Fine maybe a little. I think I’m just feeling sentimental, all this wedding stuff had me thinking about when Yoongi and I were newly married and the time we had our first good fight”

“You still haven’t told me what happened to the shoes, and everytime I tried to ask the staff they just got really quiet and seemed like they were too afraid to speak.”

“Well, I took all of his left shoes and I had one of my maids put a box outside his room. Then I took most of them and put them away in the box, and I sent the rest away to be burned.”

“You burned his shoes”

“Only the left ones, and only the pairs I didn’t like. Besides if I were to do that now there would have been a lot more of them being burned, I swear just the smell of that shoe polish is enough to make me sick nowadays. Then again there’s been a lot of things that do.”

“Are you, you know?” The young queen-to-be asked, doing her best to emphasize the implied meaning.

“Am I what,” you asked, a challenging tone in your voice. It was obvious she knew, but if she wanted to ask she would have to use her words.

She gives you a knowing smile and pulls you in for a hug, “Congratulations Y/N!”

“Oh, shut up” you laughed trying to hide how nervous you were feeling. Yes she was your best friend, but this pregnancy was news you didn’t want out to the public just yet. “Today is your day, I don’t want to take away from that.”

She rushes to the clock at this realizing the two of you were running horribly behind schedule. As you rush through the halls together, you do your best to pin her veil in place and keep the train of her dress from collecting dust and dirt from the floor. Both of you pause outside the closed doors grandly looming before you, your faces warm and nearly out of breath.

You begin the task of fixing her appearance one last time before everything starts changing again. She was always so small and quiet when you first met. You never thought such a timid young woman would come this far, but something about her just spoke of being so much more than just another commoner. And now here she was in the most delicate white gown with layers of chiffon carefully draped over each other and tiny sleeves resting just off of her shoulders, looking more composed and regal than anyone you’ve ever seen before. The light reflects against some of the crystals sewn into her veil almost creating a halo around her. The light airy dress looked stunning on her and seemed even brighter as the two of you stood side by side. All the intricate layering and the bright white of her dress contrasted beautifully against yours. It wasn’t your original plan but the midnight blue gown and it’s simple pattern seemed to exaggerate your figure in the best of ways. It’s plain bodice and jeweled collar drew attention up and away from the changes you were hoping to hide.

The doors are drawn open and the two of you take a sharp breath as you begin the long anticipated journey down the aisle. To anyone else she would seem calm and composed, but you knew better, “You know, I’ve still got the carriage waiting outside. Say the word and we’ll start running. I’ll even lead the horses myself if that’s what it takes.”

You can see the slight bounce of her shoulders as she begins silently laughing. Looking around you begin to hold on to faces in the crowd, doing your best to remember where everyone was seated to use for later. It was a shock to see Namjoon and his new bride so close to the front, you thought they’d be in the back where she’d be hidden away from the prying eyes of so many nobles. After all, their relationship had been quite a scandal and she was much too far along to hide anything. What didn’t surprise you was the look on Taehyung’s face when he saw you and his fiance nearing the altar. The two of them were stupidly in love with each other and you could see that from a mile away.

You found yourself rather exhausted after all the excitement from the queen’s wedding, deciding to take just a short break at home before involving yourself with any of the court’s drama for a while. It was meant to be just a week, maybe two at the most but as time went by it felt much better to be in the manor with Yoongi than anywhere else. The two of you were still bickering like any other day, but being at home gave you a space away from the rest of the court once you’d started showing. The two of you became cautiously excited about your future child, still too worried to be fully invested but getting closer as each week went by.

There had been a few rough times along the way, but everything had been going well for the most part. That little piece of hope growing each day was worth any of the worries and discomforts you were facing, even the morning sickness that lasted much longer than you would have preferred. You thought things were getting better until another worrisome incident took place.

“Yoongi,  I started bleeding this morning, and something feels very wrong.”

“Are you alright?” He shook his head realizing his mistake, “I’m sorry that’s a ridiculous question. What are you feeling, is there anything I can do?”

“I’m scared Yoongs, I don’t know what’s going on and I can’t tell if it’s normal or if it’s going poorly again. It can’t end like last time, I can’t lose another. I don’t know if there’s anything that can be done, I just don’t want to be alone.”

He crawled up into the oversized bed beside you, gently taking you in his arms as he brushed your hair aside. “I know there’s nothing you or I can do and it’s completely out of our control, but I want you to remember I’m here and I will always love you no matter what.”

The midwife had a sad smile when she entered the room. Mrs. Lee was one of the oldest staff members serving the Mins, having delivered you herself. It warmed her heart to see the two of you curled up together so caring and gentle for once. She had originally been hired to act as a wet nurse, but when your mother went into early labor the midwife had been by her side. You’d practically been raised by her along with a few other maids, so when you found out you were with child there was only one person you wanted to have with you.

Mrs. Lee had seen you grow from a small frail infant to a rather intelligent young woman, and knew almost all of the struggles you had faced along the way. It was always her that you went to with any problems whether it was scraped knees or scheming nobles. Your first pregnancy was rough to say the least, and she was there for all of it holding your hand when everything came to it’s heartbreaking end.

And here she is now, doing her best to keep you calm as she conducts her exam. You begin to shift as you feel another one of the pains you’d felt earlier. It wasn’t horrible, only strange and unpleasant. Yoongi presses his lips to your forehead while you begin to play with his hands to distract yourself. The two lay holding tight to one another as you wait for the midwife’s news. As she felt your stomach, Mrs. Lee paused for a moment furrowing her brow before suddenly bursting out in a smile unlike any other.

“Your Grace, I have good news and even better news. First off your child is in perfect health at the time being.”

You let out a heavy sigh of relief, both of you feeling as though a large weight had been lifted.

“Second is those little pains you were complaining about. It’s not something going wrong that feeling is from the baby kicking. A lot of mothers complain about it being an odd feeling, but it’s good and it means that the baby’s doing well.”

“They didn’t kick last time,” you whispered.

“I know Angel,” she explained. “But you’re much further along this time, and you seem much healthier. Having some spotting this late is a bit concerning, but so long as you start getting enough rest and I keep checking up on you, I don’t think we have anything we need to be too worried about. I’m going to head out now and give the two of you some space, but you can call for me at any time even if it’s something small.”

Mrs. Lee excused herself and quietly left the two of you on your own once more. Yoongi loosened his embrace and turned to face you, there were tears in his eyes and the biggest gummy smile he’s had. You take your hand and place his against your stomach where your unborn child kept kicking. The two of you sat in a comfortable silence for a while before he finally felt something, “They kicked! They actually-” He laughed and gave a joyful little sigh at this, “I love you so much Angel, you’re going to be an amazing mother.”

“I love you too Yoongs, I couldn’t do any of this without you. We’re going to be a great team, but I think our child is going to need a name pretty soon.”

Yoongi gave you an evil grin, “We should name her Yoonji”

“Absolutely not, I think I’m going to be sick,” you announced pressing your hand to your stomach. “We are not naming her after your sister, she’s too much of a b-”

“You can’t keep calling her a bitch, especially when we’re in front of others,” he tried to sound exasperated but the laughter that followed quickly put an end to that act.

You rolled your eyes at the ridiculous argument the two of you kept falling into, surely there were more important things than your opinions and not so backhanded comments about his sister. “Please be serious. If you could choose any name for our child, what would it be?”

“What about Aria for a girl’s name?”

You smile and take his hand in yours once more, “I think it’s beautiful, but we’re not going to need it. We are having a son.”

“My Love, I have no doubt that you know just about everything but we’re not going to find out until they’re here. There’s no way of being sure.”

“No, I’m absolutely sure. This child will be our first beautiful little boy, and I know I’m right. It’s a mother’s instinct and I’m never wrong.”

“Then what are you suggesting, since you’re never wrong.”

“What about Hyun-Su?”

“It’s perfect.”

You pull him closer and reach up to cup his face between your hands, “We’re going to be good at this, right? They’re going to turn out better than we did.”

“I hope so,” he turns his head slightly as he presses his lips to each of your palms. “Regardless they’re going to grow up knowing that they have two parents who will love and fight for them no matter what.”

The two of you stayed under the covers, wrapped in this moment of relief and utter bliss at knowing that your child would grow to be safe, healthy, and above all else loved. What you didn’t know was that this joy would be short lived as much grimmer news was always just around the corner. You had found out quite some time before Yoongi, receiving the letter from one of the associates you had within the court. Oftentimes it paid to have eyes and ears throughout the kingdom, but for possibly the first time you regretted having this knowledge. The letter shook in your hands as you considered your choices, you could send help but you knew there would be some kind of trap lying in wait. There was no way you would risk losing Yoongi to such an obvious scheme, even if it meant sacrificing someone else. Throwing the parchment into the fireplace you watched as all of it crumbled to ash.

The letters kept coming, this time from the Southern Kims themselves each one growing more desperate in their pleas for assistance. It would be one thing to send soldiers, but you knew Yoongi would try to go with and fight the second he heard that Seokjin was in danger. The Kims were kind and had been there for you and your husband every time you needed help, they deserved better and it broke your heart to turn them away knowing that they and their children were likely to die.

At first you just hid them in the pockets of your dress, but after one had nearly slipped out in front of Yoongi you had taken more precautions in hiding the precious information contained in the writing. It began with storing them under the dresser, and then in your pillowcase, burning them the second you had a chance. You had been pulling up the floorboards in search of a new hiding place when Yoongi finally found out. Pushing the envelope under your skirts you had tried to keep him from noticing anything amiss. Unfortunately your husband was more observant than you would like to give him credit for and he had known you long enough to know how you’d try to hide something.

“Yoongi, you can’t go. These aren’t just another group of ruthless barbarians stupid enough to slaughter their own men, they’ll know that you’re coming and they will plan for that.”

“I’ll meet with the generals before I go, we’ll come up with a plan. It will be alright, I promise.” He took your hand in his willing you both to believe the words he said.

You pulled away from him as you stood, “Very well, we can meet with the generals and send troops to help the Kims. However, you are staying here.”

“No, Jin might get on my nerves at times but he’s one of my closest friends. I’m not going to do nothing while he and his family are at risk.”

“What about our family? I know I didn’t want to get too excited about anything, but we don’t have very long until we’re parents ourselves.”

“I’ll be back before the baby comes, without so much as a scratch. I promise.”

“Please don’t. Don’t make promises that we both know aren’t guaranteed.” You took a shakey breath, “Yoongi, I rarely ask anything of you, but this time I am begging you please don’t go. I can’t lose you- we can’t lose you.”

He said something, but you could hardly process the words as his footsteps echoed across the floor, he left you with the hollow sound of your bedroom doors swinging shut behind him and a simple apology mumbled from behind the sealed doors.

You refused to sit and do nothing as your husband led himself to slaughter, if there was anyway to prevent his death you would find it. Collecting all the debts and favours owed to you by the less than upstanding members of the court was just the beginning. It took more bribing and blackmail than you had bargained for, but you got other nobles to send the reinforcements you needed. Lady Park had been all too cooperative after you happened to mention a certain nude portrait and it’s current whereabouts, she and her husband sent twice the guards you had asked for and even provided maps of the area. As for the others, some were less generous but were still eager to compensate you for information or silence in one way or another. The Northern Kims were unable to send any troops of their own. However, Namjoon’s young wife had provided a sizable amount of gold and information on a mercenary group that was up to the job. You had nothing to use against them and didn’t know of anything they were in need of, but for some reason she had given you help regardless. It was a small kindness, but a greatly appreciated one in your time of need.

Everything was in place and you’d given the go ahead for them to approach the men surrounding the Southern Palace, but you’d yet to hear back from any of your troops. All of this had been meant as a backup plan in case something went wrong, but as days turned into weeks Yoongi’s chances of success were growing smaller. You’d taken to pacing the halls at night as your due date drew nearer, he should have been back by now.

“Y/N, you have to rest. You're putting too much stress on your body and that’s not good for you or the baby,” Mrs. Lee warned as she pushed your hair away from your face.

“ Well... seeing as how he’s the one causing all of this, you can take that up with Yoongi once he’s back. Until then I’ll be up doing everything I can to make sure that he comes home in one piece.”

Mrs. Lee didn’t seem too fond of your reply and folded her arms across her chest, “I’ll be sure to mention that, but until then I want you to be resting as much as possible and taking care of yourself. So little miss, you will be in bed, eating three full meals a day, and you will not be fussing over all of this anymore. What’s done is done and all we can do is wait.”

One of the maids came knocking at your door, disturbing your mandated rest. Somehow you’d become even more confined to your room after the slight back pains you’d felt that morning. You’d been told to get your rest and avoid getting too worked up. Mrs. Lee would be furious if she found out, but she wasn’t the one in charge here and you had told them to wake you at any hour if they had news from your husband. The young girl had placed a small parcel before you and saw her way out as quietly as possible. You tore the small bow apart, unwrapping it as quickly as possible, tearing the paper piece by piece until you felt shredded wet fabric against your hands.

From the mess you were able to identify one of Yoongi’s jackets, torn to bits and coated in sweat from the battlefield. You’d grown used to seeing things like this, but what stopped you in your tracks were the warm heavily saturated stains of blood that had seeped into the cut fabric. He’d sent you these before, but never in this condition. The two of you had a running joke that he could damage any clothing or armor he wore in a fight, so long as he came home unharmed. But this didn’t seem like it came from someone else, if he had been wearing this then it had to be his blood. Picking up the paper, you looked again for a ransom note, a threatening letter, anything that would tell you that he was still alive, but there was nothing else. He was gone and there was nothing you could do about it.

You felt a sob forming as a different kind of pain tore through you. It was a kind of pressure that brought you to your knees, crying out as Mrs. Lee rushed to your side. She helped you to the edge of the bed, helping you to lay back as she wiped the tears from your eyes.

“It’s going to be alright Y/N, we’re gonna get through this.”

“I can’t- I can’t do this alone. I’m not ready.”

Mrs. Lee takes your hand and squeezes it in hers, “You’re not alone, I’m right here with you

“That’s not what I mean and you know it, he’s gone.”

“Now that’s enough of that, you need to save your energy. I was trying to keep you from going into labor this soon, but it looks like it’s about time to push.” You shook your head at Mrs. Lee’s words as you tried to delay the inevitable. As much as you attempted to stall your labor, your efforts had been in vain as you entered the hours of pushing. Your vision blurred from falling tears as you cried out for the one person who vowed to be by your side for moments like these, all the while knowing that he was never going to walk through that door again

“Angel, I’m here.” Yoongi’s voice called out as the doors were thrown open.

“You’re hurt,” you commented as you took his face between your hands. He had a large gash running down his face, the cut at first glance seeming to go through his eye as well. As you started to remove the blood it became clear that it had been a very narrow miss, but was deeper than you had hoped.

“It’s only a scratch.”

“Oh really, If that’s only a scratch then all this is but a stomach ache and I should be up and about in a few minutes at most.”

“That’s hardly a fair-” Unfortunately for Yoongi, whatever argument he had planned was soon cut off by your yelling at yet another contraction. He climbed into the bed behind you, holding your hand as you cursed him for putting you in your current position.

Whomever said that the pain of childbirth disappeared from one’s memory the second they held their child was horribly wrong, and you wanted nothing more than to personally stab that person in the stomach so that they could feel a fragment of everything you went through. And yet, when you looked at your newborn son it felt as though all that pain were worth it. Yoongi had somehow forgotten about all the horrible things you had called him during labor, or at least decided not to bring it up for a very long time. Your child had made an early and all too exciting entrance into the world, and all of you seemed to be recovering from this in one way or another.

Yoongi had been healing very well, but it became apparent that his wound would leave a scar. Not that you minded, he’d teased you about yours since the very first night the two of you had known each other intimately. Even now as you lie in bed he still traces the two lines on each side of your spine, pressing a kiss to each of the spots he claimed must have held the wings of an angel before you had fallen.

“I think we’ve earned ourselves at least a full day of napping.” Yoongi commented, already pulling the covers over the two of you.

“Just one?” You asked, “If you ask me I think we should try and break our old record and try for at least two and a half days of sleep.”

“When did we,” he paused as the memory dawned on him, “Are you talking about the New Year’s when we were snowed in with the Park family. I remember being in bed for most of that weekend, but I don’t recall much sleep going on at the time.”

“I was talking about after all of that, we ended up being so tired that we spent our last couple days asleep. We could have gotten a few more hours of rest if their staff hadn’t woken us up.”

“Well, there’s no one to bother us now. And our son is sound asleep, so I think we should be too.”

The two of you glanced at the tiny figure in the crib across from you, he looked so small and fragile but you had been relieved to know that he would continue to grow into a strong and healthy young boy. He was only a few days old and you were already starting to notice that he had formed his dad’s same habit of oversleeping, “Hey Yoongs, I’m happy he takes after you.”

[radamazard]

From Me to We

This is my piece for the DJWifiZine! Everyone who contributed to it is honestly awesome and so talented, so you should go check it out at @thedjwifizine

You can download it here!

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

The lights flickered in time with a tired sigh, throwing darkness over pages that had already left Nino feeling increasingly frustrated. What was it about old timey books that made them so… so obtuse!

Had it's previous owners meant to mock him? If so then he guessed they ought to congratulate themselves. Never before had anything left him feeling so completely and utterly defeated.

With that thought and a heavy groan, Nino let the tome hit the cushion beside him.

“Waaaaayzz,” he whined, earning a dry look from the kwami. “How the sweet heck am I meant to read this crap? No offence. I know this is, like, your idea of fun and all, buuuut…”

“None taken,” Wayzz replied, drifting down to sit upon his holder’s shoulder. “I understand that it is a rather…” he paused, seemingly taking a moment to choose his next words carefully. “...dull and dense text. But you were chosen to inherit this role, and with it comes certain responsibilities. Such as-”

“Readin’ old books drier than the Sahara Desert?” Nino scoffed, leaning back into the worn comfort of his couch.

“At least you’re allowed to read them!”

Ah, he was wondering when she was going to join the conversation.

Across the room from him, grumbling to herself from her squeaky desk chair, sat Alya. Her legs were crossed and her form hunched, a sure sign that she wasn't quite over being scolded by the tiny god of protection earlier this evening.

“Aww, come on, babe.” Nino attempted to assure her. “I promise, you're not missin’ out on anything exciting here!”

Well, not anything that he himself would find exciting. To be perfectly honest, he wasn't sure why he'd had the title of guardian thrust upon him. Hero stuff wasn't really something he was passionate about. It was just something he did outta a sense of duty.

Alya though? Now SHE was someone who woulda been squealing at the opportunity. She dug this kinda shit.

Thick, boring books full of lore and secrets that had to be decoded and unravelled?

The responsibility of deciding who was worthy of the same power they wielded, and who could never be allowed even near a miraculous?

The weight that such a position held, and the changes it would bring with it?

That was right up her alley!

It was the ultimate hero's life, all stress and life altering decisions and sooo much information that it made his brain wanna shrivel up and roll right outta his head. This was her dream, not his.

Yet here they sat, neither of them pleased with the cards they'd been dealt.

Man, was life ever a bitch.

“.... Okay, so maybe it'd be exciting to you,” Nino conceded as his girlfriend threw him an irritated glare, one that only softened as she took note of how exhausted he seemed.

Alya pulled herself away from her desk, crossing the room in a few quick steps before she dropped herself next to her beloved with a graceless thump.

“I know you're not trying to make me feel like shit, boo,” she assured him, although with how he slouched into her side Alya was getting the feeling that, perhaps, he felt he had failed in that. “It's just…”

A strong arm wrapped itself around Nino’s shoulder, and with one smooth motion he was pulled into the warmth of Alya’s embrace. It was a comfort, a silent reassurance that no ill feelings were shared between them. That even if the situation was less than ideal, they refused to let it sour their bond.

“Sucks major ass?”

“Couldn't have said it better myself, Neens~”

Alya felt the beginnings of a smile tugging at her lips, one that was awfully contagious as she caught sight of the same beauty blossoming upon her boyfriend's gorgeous face.

“You know I'd give ya the damn title if I could, right?” Nino said with a slight shrug. “I wasn't really gunning for something like this. Or even remotely wanting it.”

“Maybe that's why the old fart gave it to ya,” Trixx chimed in, his sudden presence making the couple jolt comically. Alya threw a pointed look at her kwami, one that went entirely ignored by the mini master of mischief.

“Just saying! I mean, isn't that what boring old humans do? Give power to those that don't want it?”

“As much as I disagree with his choice of words and blatant disrespect for my former master,” Wayzz retorted with an air of annoyance. “Trixx does have a fair point. I do believe that Mas- that Fu’s choice, or at least part of it, was based on a lack of desire. One that does not desire power is far less likely to abuse it.”

Wayzz’s own lack of tactfulness earned him a nasty look, from both his chosen and his fiery partner. Unlike Trixx though, he at least had the decency to appear guilty, knowing that he lacked a certain level of social savvy. The fox instead had whizzed off to find a new place to nap. How typical of him.

“I did not mean anything offensive by it,” the kwami quickly added. “I do not believe that Miss Alya would ever abuse such power! You have proven to be a hero of great honour and responsibility, and I would never wish to besmirch your name with such dirty implications…”

“I'd hope not, little dude,” Nino said firmly, the sternness in his gaze starting to melt as Alya relaxed beside him, along with her grip that held his lanky frame. “I love ya, but Als is my frickin’ Queen. I ain't about to let anyone talk smack about her, not even you.”

“I would never. In fact, if it would assure your fears, I will let it be known that Miss Alya was Fu’s second pick.”

A beat of silence passed, broken only by the slight cry of shock that fell from Alya's slackened jaw.

“You… You can't be serious! Was I- I could of- What?!”

“Oh, but I am. You possess a brilliant mind, and a passion for knowledge and the history of us kwamis that is both pure and unrivalled by anyone alive today. To be completely honest, the perfect guardian lies somewhere between you both. It made the decision terribly hard…”

As he trailed off the silence returned. Unlike last time though, it stretched out, filling several long lasting minutes.

Nino felt Alya’s cheek come to rest upon his head, and even from where he rested, his face pressed into the crook of her neck, he could hear her heart race. Was it excitement, the idea that she was thought of so highly by someone she deeply respected? He hoped so. She deserved at least that.

No, she deserved so much more.

“You right there, Als?” Nino whispered against her skin, laying a gentle kiss to her thrumming pulse. To his delight he felt her shiver beneath his lips, egging him on to smother her in a flurry of feather light affections.

“I will be once you stop being such a damn lovable DORK,” Alya shot back, her cheeks ablaze. It wasn't often that Nino managed to catch her off guard as such, not that she was complaining of course. She loved him dearly, with his sweet tenderness and near endless patience for her more… wild ways.

But right now was meant to be serious talk time!

“Well excuuuuuse me, Princess!”

Oh, how her eyes rolled.

“Anyway, back to the topic at hand. You know, the one where I was ALMOST THE GUARDIAN? I seriously can't believe that I was this close to being allowed to read the same book that you wanna throw in a fire!” Up went her hands, and with them Wayzz, who hopped out of the way of any further hand shenanigans and took refuge on the arm of their couch.

“Like, come on universe! I'm sorry that we can't just fuse or mind meld or be co-guardians or something equally as ridiculous!”

“Man, that last one woulda been hella sweet. Could you imagine? This shit would be so much easier if we could tackle it together. That damn book would be halfway understood by the end of the year if you were actually allowed to read it!”

Together they sighed, almost dreamily, as though the idea was but a wish, one fit only for fairytales. Or perhaps a low budget rom com, like the ones they enjoyed playfully mocking every Friday evening. Ah, for their lives to be so stupidly simple.

“Don't even say it, babe. Don't give me dreams that can't be fulfil-”

“Co… Guardians?” Wayzz interjected, drawing their gazes to his suddenly pondering form. “I hadn't thought of that option. Neither of us had. It certainly isn't traditional, but Ma- but Fu has never been one to follow tradition. Does that truly matter now in the scheme of things?”

His tiny brow creased in deep thought, so much so that they feared he may give himself a headache. Then, without warning, the kwami was zipping across the room, coming to rest upon the coffee table where Nino’s phone lay.

“What are yo-”

“I am contacting Fu. This new guardianship is only days old, you see. We should still be able to make amendments. With this new idea presented I believe we may be able to reach a more agreeable situation for all.”

“You… You mean…”

“Yes, Miss Alya. Now please, a moment of silence.”

The couple shared a look of bewilderment, one that swiftly morphed into giddy delight as the meaning of Wayzz's words and the hushed conversation he was having, started to settle in.

“You don't think…?” She started.

“Heck yeah I think!”

“I wasn't even being- well okay, I HAD thought of it before, but I didn't seriously think that it could happen! But now it’s- Neens, I might-!”

Excited giggles burst forth between them, both barely able to contain the jittering joy that flourished between them. What once had seemed like a sore point now pulsed with a new life, promising a future that held them together closer than ever before.

Strange, how quickly one’s night could turn from a grouchy sort of sour to a sweet, bubbly delight.

Together they tittered, their conversation an excited mess of hardly hushed whispers and tightly gripped hands. The energy was punctured by a familiar, yet sharp throat clearing, which snapped their attention back to the awaiting kwami.

“Although our conversation was brief, and we will meet at a later date to discuss the details, we are both in agreement. A Co-Guardianship is something we are willing to trial. If you will both agree to this arrangement, that is.”

Wayzz watched with a delighted chuckle, already braced for the squeals and hollering of joy that were soon to follow. Ah, to be young and so wonderfully human, to find such happiness in something shared.

“Are you kidding, little dude? Of freaking course I agree to this shit! Als, did ya hear what he sa-”

“SIGN ME THE FUCK UP!” Alya shouted in pure, unfiltered glee. Within seconds she was reaching across her boyfriend, grabbing the tome that had been the source of so many nasty feelings not even half an hour ago.

Nino’s easy laugh filled her ears, and soon it vibrated against her lips, gobbled up by a kiss of pure, vibrant glee that left them both more than a little love drunk.

“I swear, I- no, WE won't let you down!”

We.

Yes, that had a nice ring to it.

We, as in friends.

We, as in lovers.

We, as in heroic partners.

We, the Co-Guardians of the Miraculous, together until death do us part.

[lastluvbug]

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR DOING MY REQUEST since love it so much, I'm asking another one! This time it's gonna be full on angst but there will be happy ending so let's get started! =D can you do a request with a mc who had a terrible back story of abuse? She ended up losing her eye when she was four years old because her father threw a wine bottle at her and age blames herself because he killed her late older sibling and mom when she tried to cheer him up by playing a mini harp? Can be with anyone.

Very angsty, I’ll see what I can do!

Warnings: Mentioned/referenced abuse, mentioned self harm, drinking, and langauge. If sensitive, please do not read!

A Sweet Melody

Once upon a time, music had been so precious to Yuu. It had been her world, her rock, her solace when she couldn’t sleep at night.

She’d pull out her harp, and hum a tune in sync with her elegant plucking. She remembered those nights, dreamt of how free and pure the sound was, how calm she felt as the tension was poured into her song.

She remembered how much her mother and sister loved to listen—after a stressful day, before school, a nighttime lullaby.

All of it seemed so distant, like a fragmented dream that only appeared in flashes, gone so quick the only trace left was the bitterly addictive flavor of nostalgia on her tongue.

Music now was nothing more than a hatred whorled spit in her face. Music had been the thing to lead her younger sister and mother into their coffins six feet below ground. Music had driven her father insane.

It started when she was just barely out of her toddler years, when Yuu was first gifted the stringed instrument. While it overjoyed her to have something so beautiful, her father was nearly steaming with rage.

Yuu’s family was the farthest thing from rich. Her parents worked two, three jobs at a time, hardly creating a stable income as her father squandered his opportunities again and again. Over the course of her short life, Yuu often found herself to be at the receiving end of his fury, whether that mean harsh chastisment scented of alcohol on the smallest of mistakes, or a plain backhand across the cheek.

The day before, Yuu’s father had wasted yet another night at the bar, filling himself the disgustingly thin liquid until he couldn’t walk, nor speak.

“You bitch! How did you afford that? You doin’ something behind my back? Is that it?” He bellowed at her mother, Yuu standing in front of her one year old sister defensively as he stood from the rugged couch, stumbling over to the cluttered counter.

“Dear, please. It was just a gift!”

“Don’t raise your voice at me! How did you afford it?!” He grabbed her mother’s arm roughly, twisting it with his superior strength as she bit back a wince too late.

“Daddy! Don’t hurt her! She just wanted to do something nice!” Yuu interjected, latching onto his free hand.

“Get off me, brat. If it weren’t for little money suckers like you, we would’ve been dining like kings!” He slapped Yuu away, the short girl tripping over her feet and landing on her side.

From across the room, her sister began to wail, clutching her hand-me-down stuffed pet and wiping away fat tears. Yuu noticed how her father whipped his head to the child, eyes ablaze with a plan to shut her up. Acting quickly, Yuu rushed to her baby sister, pulling her out of the kitchen and up to her bed, where she tucked her in.

“Don’t get violent! Not on our daughter’s birthday!” Her mother shrieked as Yuu tramped back into the kitchen, freezing as her father slapped her mother.

“Shut up! You don’t understand what you’ve done, woman!” Just as her father raised his hand to strike her mother yet again, Yuu threw herself into him, temporarily knocking him off balance.

“No, Daddy! Leave Mom alone!” She stood in front of her mother, who fell to the ground on her knees, her arm out beside her as she tried to protect her despite only having just turned four.

A black rage darker than Yuu had ever seen laced every muscle and tendon in her father’s face, fear spiking through her heart and crumbling her resolve as the man recovered from his shock, standing to his full height. “So you think you’re better than me now? You think you can stand up to me? You’re father?” His hand trailed across the counter, searching.

“Dad...?” Yuu began trembling.

“I’ll teach you...” he mumbled, towering above his daughter, “I’ll teach you to stand up to me!”

He raised his hand, and in that split moment, his eyes were clearer than Yuu had ever seen before. He moved with such swiftness, it made her wonder why he’d never invested such concise movements into playing with her or her sister, why he sat drinking his life away on the couch instead of helping her mother work.

That was the last thought she had, before her world was sliced in two.

First, it was the immobilizing pain that made her drop to the floor. Her bones groaned in response to being dropped so unceremoniously on the tile, but was little heeded as her head blew up in flame, her scalp stinging like a thousand wasp penetrations as something warm and sticky dripped down her tear streaked cheeks.

She hardly recognized the scream that pierced the air as she looked around, hand wandering to her eye as she realized... it wasn’t working. She could only see out of her right, and the left was pure, black darkness, not even the silhouette of the room appearing in the emptiness. Yuu stared at the floor, at the blood falling from her face and onto the glass shatterer before her, encircling her like a broken cage.

Her ears rung, and she couldn’t process what happened next. Briefly, she recalled being carried, the sound of her irregular heartbeat, and the flooding of throbbing lights as she faded in and out of consciousness.

Yuu had her father’s words left in her head, imprinted in her brain like a branded cow. “Next time, learn to hold your tongue, bitch.”

All her life she carried the reminder of that day, marred upon her skin and forever labeling her as the “Outcast.” She never saw herself as beautiful from that time forward, and after the death of her mother and sister a mere two years later, never spoke unless spoken to.

<————>

Yuu awoke with a start, being shaken by someone rather roughly.

“Yuu? Wake up, class ended.”

The girl looked to the source of the sound, meeting the wide eyed and worried face of her only friend in all of Night Raven. “...My apologies, Epel...” She mumbled, lifting herself from her crossed arms.

“It’s alright, just... what was your dream about?” Epel asked, standing beside her.

“Nothing i-important, why?”

“You’ve been crying.”

“Hm?” She reach up to her cheeks, her fingers wiping something wet streaked down the plains of her face. “Ah... It really was nothing.” She waved off his inquiry, as well as her tears with her sleeve, seeing that Grim had already long since left her behind.

“If you say so... hey! Since it seems yer—ahem, you’re, not busy, did you want to come with me back to Pomefiore? All this time, and you’ve never been, right?” Epel prompted, making Yuu look up at him from her seat.

“Go with you to Pomefiore? A-Are you sure that would be fine? You guys are known for your beauty, I don’t think I would be very welcome...” Yuu shyly said, ghosting over her scarred eye.

“With the way Vil primps himself daily, I doubt anyone would notice you. Not to mention Rook—the guy’s lost one too many of his screws. He’ll probably be kissing up to our marvelous dorm head, so I’ll be off the hook.”

“What would... what would we even do?”

“We could study? I know I’ve been failing pretty terribly in some of my classes. Or... oh! Come with me!” Epel took Yuu’s hand, dragging her fragile figure down the hallways.

“What? What’re we doing?” Yuu asked, jogging to keep up with the boy.

“We’re going to the kitchens!” Epel laughed, sparking the girl’s confusion.

It was a bumpy run, the two weaving between students rather easily thanks to their short statures, and rounding corner after corner until they approached the gran cafeteria. Following their beelines, they pushed through the rows of starving students, barreling into the back kitchens pleasantly smelling of a mix of foods.

Yuu kept her mouth shut, following timidly behind Epel as she subconsciously covered her eye with a hand, glancing around nervously. Only a handful of people looked her way, that she could tell, and either smiled or laughed, both reactions causing her ears to redden.

“Okay, do me a favor, would you?” Epel broke the tension, turning to Yuu.

“S-Sure.” She answered, biting her tongue for stuttering.

“Grab the peeler and a few of the carving knives. I’ll get the stuff from the fridge!” He gestured towards the row of drawers, Yuu simply nodding.

She watched as Epel bounced to the largely oversized refrigerators, refusing conversation but smiling to himself. She’d never say, her voice hushed from years of humiliation, but she loved the way his soft purple locks fell over his shoulders, or the way his powdery blue eyes sparkled every time he laughed.

It took all of her will power to keep herself from tearing up, that light he shone reminding her too much of her forever dimmed sister’s.

Turning back to her own job, she searched through the drawers, pulling out her materials, nicking her finger on the peeler. Staring at the glimmery bead as it snaked its way down her hand, her body briefly remembered the feeling of metal slicing through her skin, long since healed over her wrists, but recorded upon it nevertheless.

Once upon a time, she’d been so broken that the only sort of release she could find was through blades. The one who’d helped her through those seemingly endless hours of struggle was none other than Epel Felmier.

When Yuu first met Epel, she was a stuttering, anxious mess, tripping over her words and avoiding eye contact like it was the plague. Epel was no better himself, holding his tongue and only making the smallest of conversations. If it weren’t for the one day he caught her stained in her own blood and sobbing in a restroom stall, Yuu believed without a doubt that there’d be no one by her side.

“Yuu! Ready to go?” Epel tore the meddling girl from her mind, who wiped the bead on her pants and carefully arranged the blades in her arms.

“Yes, let’s go.” Yuu nodded, supprssing her inner turmoil.

She’d put that behind her, and had long since forgotten her practices of old.

Epel gave her a soft smile, a bag of scarlet apples dangling from his hand as he encouraged her to go forward.

<————>

“Yuu, quick! Hide over there!”

The girl leapt back, disguising herself behind the curtains draped over a window as Epel stood in front of it, feigning ignorance.

“Ah, you runaway fiend! The great trouble you cause dear Vil! He wishes for your presence in the ballroom immediately.” An extravagantly dramatic voice cooed, and from her spot behind the curtain, Yuu could just barely make out the sight of blonde hair covered by a rather stylish hunting hat.

“Rook-san...! Lovely to see you as well. Actually, I can’t join you today, I’ve uh—I’ve come down with a terrible headache. Send Vil my apologies!” Epel not so cleverly lied.

“Is that so? Would those be get-well fruits then?”

“H-huh? Oh these? These are... well, Crowley gave them to me, said they were a gift from my hometown! I figured I’da bring ‘em to my room, y’know, n’ keep ‘em safe!” Yuu cringed to herself, knowing all too well that Epel was not selling his act.

“Oh my, Epel-kun, please. You may return to your quarters, but do something about that distasteful chatter of yours.” Rook croned, tipping his hat and heading off.

“Tch, “distasteful chatter”? Stupid beauty, what do they know anyway?” Epel grumbled, stepping away from the curtain as Rook’s figure faded away. He pried it open, the sudden flush of light causing Yuu to wince. “We’re alone, you can come out now.”

“Why don’t they like your accent, Epel? Aren’t they beauty enthusiasts?” Yuu asked, stepping into the open hall.

“Hell if I know. They only care about your face, not whatever you are on the inside. It reminds me of the poison apple the legends talk about; gorgeous to the eye, death to the soul.” Epel frowned, slinging his sack over his shoulder.

Yuu deflated, taking the words to heart. If that was true, then she was most surely not welcome in a dorm as proper as Pomefiore. “In any case, let’s just hurry to my room. They usually don’t bother me there.” Epel continued, storming down the corridor.

“Right...” Yuu followed, suddenly feeling unbearably self conscious.

Much to her surprise, the dorm looked empty as Ramshackle, not a single person lounging around or even passing by as they walked. “Where is everyone?” She thought, readjusting the dangerous items as Epel kicked a door open, allowing Yuu inside, almost gasping as she stood at the doorway.

The room was wide and quaint, with a large bay window, an intricately designed table, and a four poster bed that instantly made Yuu jealous. “Impressive, right? I honestly think it’s too much, even tried to convince Vil to give me something smaller.”

“I-I can’t believe this is your room... it’s so pretty...” Yuu marveled, setting her instruments on the table.

“Take a seat, we’re going to be here a while.” Epel instructed, laying his bag down and grinning impishly.

<————>

“I’m done! I’m done—I did it! Look Epel, look!” Yuu burst what seemed like hours later, hands flying to her mouth after she realized how loud she’d been.

“It’s a little lopsided, and it’s not symmetrical, but it looks great! Almost subpar for a rookie!” Epel clapped, looking up from his own work.

Yuu squinted, holding up what she thought was her masterpiece. The apples that Epel had brought were used to teach her how to carve delicate pictures and designs into their flawless flesh, some of which were horribly mutilated in the process, but in the end led to the beautiful fruity art before her. “I don’t see anything wrong with it... you’re such a difficult person to impress, Epel.” Yuu whined, comparing her apple to his.

“Ah relax! I’m just messin’ around!” He joked, waving his hand. He laughed at her dumbfounded face, ruffling her hair in an older-sibling like way, and for once, Yuu found herself smirking, if only in the slightest way.

“Epel Felmier! Do my ears deceive me or are you really—pardon?” Both teens froze in place as Epel’s door flew open, welcoming in a tall boy dressed in Pomefiore’s overly pompous uniform, head adorned with the same hat Yuu saw behind the curtain.

She flinched as his gaze settled on her, and she instinctually pressed a hand over her eye, concealing the horror that further proved the loss of her vision. “Rook, get out! Who do you think you are, barging in like that?” Epel complained, rushing over to the senior and attempting to push him away.

He was abrubtly dropped on the floor as Rook swerved around the boy, stalking closer to Yuu like a predator. “What have we here? Who might you be?” He asked, scrutinizing her face.

“Rook, leave her alone!” Epel demanded, pushing himself from the floor.

Too easily, the blonde pried her hand away, observing the story written in scars over the left side of her complexion. “Oh my...” Rook stared and stared, unexpressive and too close for comfort.

Tears started to brim in Yuu’s eyes, and using what little strength she had compared to the taller boy’s, she ripped herself away, running out of the room and down the hall.

Her heart raced in her veins, in her ears, as she flew down the forever twisting and turning passages, this time crowded with people. She could only dodge and weave between them, with their questioning gazes burning holes into her skull as tears dripped onto the flooring.

Yuu couldn’t seem to escape, the walls wanted to enclose around her, stretching and warping as the path swayed beneath her feet. She could do nothing but dizzily run away, mind lost in her own abyss as she leapt into a dark room, only ignited by the light from outside.

Collapsing in a heap on the hardwood floor, she wearily recognized where she was, or at least the type of place she’d ended up. On one wall, a slenderly long window stretched high above her reach, the opposite completely covered by a mirror. It was a dance room.

Sitting on her knees in front of the mirrored wall, Yuu stared at her pitiful self, tears breaking free of the dam they’d been collecting behind for days. Her hair was messy, falling around her shoulders and sticking to the sides of her face, dampened by the salty liquid. Her cheeks were rosy, nose carrying the same color.

And... her eyes.

One of them, the functional one, was puffy and tear clouded, and the other—the other was gorgeously ruined. A jagged, cracked scar trailed from her forehead to mid cheek, splitting her eyebrow and so thick that it spanned the length of her eye. The iris had lost its color and gone a milky white, the tears almost unrecognizable over the glazed sheen that glimmered over the orb.

Laying a hand on the mirror, Yuu stared into the mutilated gateway, seeing a story that had been left untold for far too long. She saw the death of her family, the heartache they bore through, her failure to preserve the things she loved most.

“Sorry—I’m sorry! I’m sorry I couldn’t save you, I’m sorry I look like this... I can’t breathe without hurting someone!” She curled her hand over the mirror, slamming her fist over it as she rested her head on the cool surface, her tears rolling down and leaving streak marks on the pristine aluminum paint.

Much to her surprise, the lights flicked on, though she did a fine job camouflaging it beneath a mask of melancholy. “So my potatoes were telling the truth. There really is a lost little sprite in my ballroom.” A new voice clucked.

Yuu ignored him, turning around and pulling her knees to her chest, burying herself in her arms. She didn’t want to be ridiculed anymore—didn’t want anyone else to resent her simply because they lacked the patience to break down her defenses.

The click of his shoes against the too cold floor reverberated off the walls, piercing her ears as they came closer, eventually stopping right in front of her.

“Look at me.” He commanded, the girl refusing with a shake, “Why not?”

“Because...I’m ugly, and everyone here is jaw droppingly gorgeous. I don’t belong here, I don’t belong anywhere...” she whispered, almost inaudibly.

“Nonsense. Look at me.” He commanded, this time not giving her an option. Tenderly prying her arms open, the mystery boy lifted her face up with the back of his hand.

Reluctantly, Yuu made eye contact with the person who struck fear into her heart like no other, either for his esteemed position in the school, or his famous physical beauty and harsh words. She stared into the amethyst eyes of Vil Schoenheit, who reflected her terrified and crippled visage in the hues of his irises.

Pushing his arms away, Yuu began weeping again, wiping the forsaken water roughly with her hands. “I’m sorry... I’m sorry for intruding. I-I’ll go.” She sniffled, in the midst of standing when Vil placed his hands over hers, plush and soft.

“Stay. Whatever would you have to be sorry for, dear?” He asked, urging her to sit.

“B-Because—Because I...I...!” Yuu’s voice became strained as she struggled to release the words that so desperately clawed at the knot in her throat. And then—

Vil opened his arms. Inviting, warm, unjudgemental.

“V-Vil...!” She dove into them, wrapping her arms around his middle as she did her best to stiffle her cries. Vil stroked her hair, his eyebrows raising in awe at how silky it was. “I-It’s my f-fault... all of it is my fault! I could’ve s-saved them, b-but I was just so scared!” She lamented, spilling the secrets that should’ve long ago been honored.

For once, Vil didn’t spit out any harsh criticisms, he just sat there silently, awaiting the end of Yuu’s bottled up pain brought to life. When it came, the girl released the boy who embodied beauty, trying to hide her swollen and scarred face. “I’m so sorry for using your time, Vil-san...” Yuu apologized, voice cracking.

“The least you could do is look at me when you speak, darling. Please, look here.” Yuu obeyed, eyes widening in confusion as her chin was rather roughly pinched between his thumb and forefinger.

Vil uncapped the top to his specially created lip gloss, “Hold still.” He said, applying the makeup over her thin lips, “There. See? You’re beautiful, we just... need a little concealer, and some contacts, and you’ll be good as new—partially.” Vil gave her a genuine smile, fooling Yuu into believing that maybe, just maybe he wasn’t going to judge her like everyone else.

“Yuu?!! Yuu?”

The two whipped to the doorway, and were greeted by a familiar lilac-haired first year, who skidded to a halt before Yuu and dropped to his knees, holding onto her shoulders. “I looked everywhere for ya, but this place is just so goddamn huge, it was like weavin’ through a maze! Rook had me runnin’ ‘round the halls like a chicken with its head cut off! Ain’t nothin’ hurt, o-or bleedin’, right?” Epel fast-talked, country accent in full affect as he tripped over his words.

“I’m fine, Epel. All good, see?” Yuu held out her arms, displaying her unharmed frame.

“A-ah, now that’s a breath’a fresh air! I see you been talkin’ with—dorm head Vil!” Epel gasped, face blanching as he sweat dropped.

“Epel. Felmier. What a pleasant surprise.” Vil growled through his teeth, bearing a deceiving smile. “Recovered from your headache, mister?”

“W-well, ya see here, I just—“

“Silence, I’ll not be listening to your excuses. And for the love of the Queen, get rid of that horrid native tongue of yours!” Vil demanded, berating Epel.

“...Yes, Vil. My humblest apologies.”

“Much better. Now! Would you like to explain our little visitor, and why she is here unannounced?”

After a long and tedious process of introducing and expounding her life, Yuu and Epel sat in edgy silence as Vil digested the information, going through a myriad of emotions as the air buzzed with electricity.

Yuu had her fingers crossed that she wouldn’t be sent away, as she’d been so used to.

“It’s decided then. Yuu, dear, follow me, and be hasty.” Vil nodded to himself, standing to his proud height enchanced by his heels as he flipped his hair, clicking off.

“I wish you the best of luck, my friend. You’ll most certainly need it.” Epel sniggered behind his hand, Yuu sending him a withering glare from over her shoulder.

“Oh just you watch. I’m about to sparkle like a million fireflies.”

<————>

Sparkle was a disgusting understatement for the transformation Vil put the poor girl through.

Though it was getting late outside, he still gave her a luxury treatment, which ultimately meant minutes upon minutes of face moisturizers, skin creams, scar healing oinments, and anything in between. Her face was stiff from all the rubbing, almost simulating numbness.

Once that had been finished, Vil wasted absolutely no time before pouncing onto makeup, his specialty. Concealers, eye accentuates, lip plumpers, blush, it made Yuu dizzy with the sheer amount of items the world of cosmetics had to offer.

It felt strange to be touched in such gentle ways, to receive the soft stroke of a brush to her eyelids instead of a slap, or to feel the way the concealer was mixed into the darkly scarred skin of her left side instead of the shattered glass tearing through flesh.

By the end of it all, Yuu didn’t sparkle, she emanated the radiance of a thousand suns, and even though she could only see half of her complexion, she knew beyond a doubt that she was more gorgeous than ever.

“There we are, darling.” Vil clapped, spinning her chair so that she could look at herself in the vanity.

Yuu’s jaw dropped to the ground, her breath hitching as she resisted the urge to cry.

Her scar was no longer visible on her face, the ugly line replaced instead by smooth, seemingly unmarked tan. The bags under her eyes were gone, making her seem at least a year younger, and a pretty blush was blended into her rather squishy cheeks, dusting over her nose. A flawless cut crease was executed over her orbs, the shimmery silver gradient backing to her elongated lashes making her eye pop.

But truly, the most spectacular of all what was lay within. Her irises were both... colored. What was once damaged and ruined was semi-fixed, a contact that matched the color of her functional eye creating the appearance that both were natural.

“V-Vil! Y-You... this...!” Yuu folded her hands in her lap, rendered wordless.

“A simple thank you will suffice, dear.” Vil chuckled, but nearly fell over when he was suffocated in a bear hug.

“Thank you! Thank you, thank you so much, Vil!” She bubbled, letting go after said blonde pushed her away.

“You’re welcome—just be careful! You’ll mess up one of our faces!” Vil snapped, rearranging his hair.

Yuu giggled, still staring at herself in the mirror, when a knock broke the calm partial quiet. “Come in!” Vil articulated, welcoming in two people, Rook Hunt and Epel.

“Yuu?!” Epel stood slack jawed, eyes nearly bursting out of his skull with how wide they were. “You’re so different, it’s amazing. You look amazing!”

“Indeed, madmoiselle! Delicate like the petals of a rose, and crystal clear as the water that rains from the sky! You are truly the sight to behold.” Rook added, earning an elbow to his side.

“Thank you, so much. I just—never thought I would look so whole again, especially after what happened to...” she trailed off, twiddling her thumbs.

“Nonsense, don’t let anyone lie to you. Never take criticism from someone you didn’t ask it from, alright?” Vil instructed, taking her by the hand.

“...Of course, Vil-san.” Yuu answered, for the first time in a long, long while settling into a comfortable laugh.

She’d been broken, far too many times to count. Torn down, crushed beneath the foot of life itself.

But, perhaps with the help of the people she used to shake in her shoes merely thinking about, perhaps she could turn that rubble into a cairn of her success. She’d have to fall to reach her peak, sometimes more than once, and sometimes she’d have to hit the bottom.

Right now, she was inching towards grabbing that first stone, that first layer to her cairn.

Soon, she just might reclaim that sweet melody lost to the tomes of time.

This took a little longer than I expected... I had to rewrite it because my first draft would... probably have gotten me flagged.

I want to say that you. Are. Beautiful. It doesn’t matter if you’re giant or mini, scarred or clean, because you. Are. Beautiful.

On that note, thanks for reading!! I hope you enjoyed!

Stay lovely!

[soveryanon]

Reviewing time for MAG183!

- I’m not sure I can manage to put it into words quite right but: sounds-wise, this episode’s domain didn’t feel mind-blowingly new, it wasn’t something that felt “Oh! I’ve never heard something like this before!”? But the echoes, grinding and scratching were timed so well, giving so much strength and gravitas to the conversations, that it perfectly scratched an itch. I could hear that there was something close to Jon and Martin, that it was big, and mostly deserted, that it stood eerily in the overall wasteland, that they were two people alone against a whole world, a whole machine with gears and a mechanism ready to crush anyone?

- I LIVE for artist!Martin giving his commentary and overall throwing shade at the Fears’ taking of artistic licence liberties:

(MAG183) MARTIN: Oh, bugger off! ARCHIVIST: Everything all right? MARTIN: Oh, no, what e–, what e–, what even is that? It, it’s like Escher ate a bad cathedral and threw up everywhere.

He had shown interest in the Stranger’s carousel upon learning that the statements had been a poem, but shots fired for that tower, uh.

- Jon and Martin were so cute starting the episode! Their quick banter was adorable!

(MAG183) ARCHIVIST: It’s a building. A tower. … In a sense. MARTIN: Oh yeah? A–and what sense might that be? ARCHIVIST: [FAINTLY OMINOUS] … The Tarot sense. MARTIN: [SPLUTTERS WITH LAUGHTER] Really? ARCHIVIST: Wha–? No? Sorry, it… felt like a good line…! MARTIN: No, no, it was, I just… I dunno, I… [FOND EXHALE] You did the look, and…! It’s fine, sorry.

Martin being IN LOVE and appreciating Jon’s cuteness! The return of Jon showing that he’s an occult/horror nerd! We had seen in season 2 that he was generally very knowledgeable about anything related to the supernatural, and in season 4 that he was into Neil Lagorio’s movies, I’m happy to get another trace of it!

(MAG076) MELANIE: So I came here to dig a bit deeper. ARCHIVIST: Really? Our… our library is extensive, but it’s hardly focused on the Second World War. MELANIE: No, but the most detailed description of the crash that I could find came from the report of a man called William W. Hay. And later in life William Hay… ARCHIVIST: Became a noted occultist, whose memoirs and researches were only ever published in a heavily edited form. And we have unexpurgated copies. MELANIE: Exactly.

(MAG136) ARCHIVIST: [INHALE] Statement ends. Hm. Neil Lagorio… You ever see any of his work? DAISY: No. Not really into films. ARCHIVIST: Oh, they were… Well, let’s just say that it’s not a complete shock there was something unnatural to them. Didn’t know we had copies in the Institute, though; let alone original cuts. [CHUCKLE] Records indicate they [PAPER RUSTLING] ended up in… Artefact Storage. DAISY: Probably best that they stay there. ARCHIVIST: … Yeah. Yes, of course.

But SOB x2 since:

* Tower-in-the-tarot-sense meaning ominous stuff… and change. (While Jon knew they would soon come face to face with the choice to take the route through Martin’s domain.)

* Crying over the fact that we’ve seen and learned quite a few outside-of-the-job aspects of Jon this season, comparatively to the previous ones? He’s cute! He’s making jokes! He mentioned his student days a bit in MAG165, and visiting Upton House as a kid in MAG180! And this is happening when the world has been forked over and Jon&Martin certainly won’t survive together past MAG200, which means they have at most seventeen episodes together remaining. Martin, and we alongside him, are seeing so many different, more casual aspects of Jon, and it’s at the end of things…

- I really like how information bounced around in this episode? It felt even more dynamic than usual, quickly shifting depending on some reaction, or going from an association to another:

(MAG183) MARTIN: What, what’s the deal, though? Parts of it almost look like– ARCHIVIST: The Institute. MARTIN: Yeah…! ARCHIVIST: Yes. [INHALE] It makes sense, after all it was… built on the ruins of what Robert Smirke constructed…! MARTIN: Smirke? … What, no! But, but, surely he’s– ARCHIVIST: Dead, yeah, I mean, yes. [CHUCKLING] Very much so! This place is… an homage, shall we say. A monument. To him, and those like him, who tried to… categorise the world with themselves at the centre. In so doing, constructed the architecture of its suffering…!

Ohohoh about Martin feeling like the tower looked a bit like the Institute, and Jon drawing similarities through Smirke – the Institute being built on the ruins of a Smirke building, and the current domain being dedicated to people like him. The Institute is coming closer and weighing on their minds, isn’t it? I really like that Martin immediately worried about Smirke potentially being alive-ish, since:

(MAG138) MARTIN: “The Eye has marked me for something, of this I have no doubt. My… humble hope is that it may be a swift death, an accidental effect of your own researches, which I once again implore you to abandon. It is likely too late for me, but I will not…” [PAPER RUSTLE] Uh… [INHALE] The, hum… The letter ends there. Uh… Ap–apparently Robert Smirke was found collapsed in his study that evening, dead of, uh… [FLIPPING THROUGH PAPERS] Apoplexy. Mm. I–I don’t know how the letter reached the Archives, I mean… Well, I can guess, but…

… he had read Smirke’s last words before he died. (But Martin has seen enough by now to know that there is always a risk for people to not have actually died; on that front, we’re safe, Jon confirmed! Loving Jon’s chuckle: ah yeah, no, Smirke, “very much so” dead from Jonah.)

(Also loved the “[those] who tried to categorise the world with themselves at the centre” shade: yep! That’s West-Eurocentrism and Smirke’s little gang for you!)

- About the way the world works now since the Change, I’m curious about Jon’s wording as “the architecture of [the world’s] suffering”, since it’s echoing the title of Smirke’s statement, “The Architecture of Fear”: my understanding is that right now, the world is mostly running on a loop of people’s fears => feeding and shaping the landscape => which hurts people by turning those realised fears against them => squeezing the fear out of them => feeding the landscape, etc.

What is quite curious is the status of Smirke’s taxonomy in the current world. Jon went off on a rant about how Smirke and people who attempted to classify had been wrong all along because it was meant to fail… while he himself has persistently been using the very same classifications during this very season:

(MAG166) ARCHIVIST: Look, we can talk about it later, we’re– coming to a… “domain of The Buried”, and [STATIC RISES] I would really rather… […] God, I hate The Buried. [DEEP BREATHS] … End recording.

(MAG172) ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] “Knowing”, “seeing”… i–it’s not the same thing as… understanding. Every time I try to know what The Web’s plan is, if it can even be called a plan, I see… a hundred thousand events and causes and links, an impossibly intricate pattern of consequences and subtle nudges, but I–I can’t…! … I can’t hold them all in my head at the same time. There’s no way to see the “whole”, the, the point of it all. I can see all the details, but it doesn’t… provide… context or… intention. I suppose The Web doesn’t work in knowledge, not in the same way.

(MAG173) MARTIN: That’s the avatar for this place? ARCHIVIST: Callum Brodie, thirteen years old. He guides the children through their fears of The Dark.

(MAG174) ARCHIVIST: I’m not entirely sure what you were expecting, it’s The Vast. The clue is in the name! MARTIN: Yes, all right…!

(MAG176) MARTIN: … Besides, I thought The Hunt was meant to make you go faster. ARCHIVIST: Depends on the type of pursuit. [INHALE] Besides, the chase isn’t… really the point of this particular place.

(MAG177) ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] Bad therapists. Let’s just say it’s the fear of bad therapists, filtered through The Spiral. BASIRA: That’s… a lot more nuance than I’ve gotten used to since everything went wrong. ARCHIVIST: Yes, well. The Spiral is nothing if not insidious. […] You just heard what The Spiral does to people, you can’t… trust her.

“constructed the architecture of [the world’s] suffering” kind of implies that they did manage something, even if it doomed the world? Is it specifically about Jonah using the division into 14 in his incantation? We’ve seen that that one had limitations, since The Extinction also got there anyway… But at the same time, true that at this point, we would still force-apply Smirke’s labels to anything anyway.

- Loved Jon sounding awfully pedantic and (fake-)poetic at the same time:

(MAG183) MARTIN: [SIGH] Bit of a mouthful. ARCHIVIST: Would you prefer I described it as a… “cascading recursion of shifting arrogance and hubristic dead-ends”? [STATIC RISES] [THE DOOR CREAKS OPEN] [CONSTANT HIGH-PITCHED FREQUENCY] HELEN: I would. [FOOTSTEPS] [THE DOOR SHUTS] [STATIC FADES] MARTIN: [SIGH] Hello, Helen.

AND HELEN HAVING THE BEST ENTRANCES. It also cleared up something for me (unless I had already realised it and forgot about it since then): the high-pitched sound we hear when she’s around is the mark of Helen and Michael, not of the corridors – if the door is open or characters are inside of the hallways, we’ll hear some of the usual crackling static, but we heard it rise when Helen arrived and fade when the door shut behind her (and same thing with her departure, it was briefly heard when she opened the door).

- Shots fired, MARTIN PLEASE:

(MAG183) MARTIN: [SIGH] Hello, Helen. Might have guessed you’d be into weird architecture. Very much your area of expertise, no? HELEN: Hmm, depends! Would you describe “petulant poet” as your area of expertise? I am weird architecture.

And Helen went equally incisive on that one, but also UUUUUH WAS IT A SPECIFIC REFERENCE TO PETER’S COMMENT ABOUT MARTIN…

(MAG158) MARTIN: I’m… saying no. I refuse! Game over. [KNIFE CLATTERING ON THE GROUND] PETER: Martin, this is not the time for petulance; there are bigger things at stake, here.

This was the only time someone referred to Martin as (acting) petulant… I mean, Helen not missing one second of MAG158 wouldn’t be surprising (she did tell Jon at the end of MAG157 that she would be enjoying the show), but ;; Little chilling when remembering Elias-Peter-Martin in the Panopticon and Martin refusing to kill Jonah there…

- I was right to suspect that Helen might have been unable to know where Jon&Martin were over their stay at Upton House, and that she wouldn’t be pleased about it!

(MAG183) HELEN: Anyway, where have you been? I’ve been looking for you, but you both just vanished. ARCHIVIST: Aaah… Right, I see…! HELEN: I was so looking forward to catching up after that whole Basira and Daisy thing, but then, pfft! You both disappear. I’d be very keen to know how you managed that little trick. MARTIN: Why, it caught us by surprise too, I mean, we, we actually ended– ARCHIVIST: [FIRMLY] We found somewhere to rest. That’s all. MARTIN: … Oh, yeah. Ah, yes, hm. HELEN: Fine. Be like that. I can appreciate the particular pleasure of a kept secret. ARCHIVIST: I’m sure you can.

* Salesa’s zone seems to be protected as long as you don’t physically find it? I wonder how Annabelle managed to find it, still, since Jon only become aware of that blind spot when they arrived nearby; how did she become aware of it in the first place? Did it feel like a hole in the world’s web?

* Awww for Jon keeping the secret and conveying to Martin that they should keep quiet about it ;w;

* AHAHAHHAHA for Jon’s “aaah”, which was absolutely a mischievous grandpa sound. Jon ready to cause trouble, with a smug smile on his face.

- … I love how Helen could observe that the dynamic of the exchange was slipping out of her control (Jon&Martin knew something that she didn’t, didn’t feel threatened by her, and Jon was amused to keep it out of her reach) and immediately tried to go for the throat again:

(MAG183) HELEN: Anyway. Such a shame about Basira and Daisy. I was really rooting for them to make up. MARTIN: [SPLUTTERS] Since when? What happened to– I mean, how did you put it… a, “a quick shot to the back of her head, and then back in time for tea”, or whatever?

Martin: Forgive and forget? NO, RESENT AND REMEMBER AHAHAHAHAH.

Direct reference to the fact that Helen indeed ~offered her door to Basira~ to quickly get to Daisy and execute her:

(MAG177) HELEN: I can offer a shortcut. Take you right to that murder machine you call a partner. MARTIN: Basira… Jon can’t go through Helen’s doors, we, we couldn’t come with you. HELEN: Basira is a strong, independent woman. She doesn’t need you two holding her hand. Anyway, it’ll be dead quick. Two minutes, door-to-door, quick shot to the back of Daisy’s head, and we’ll be home before you know it!

Laughing that Martin added the tea mention (Martin, you single-track minded tea-aficionado), but I’m glad that he remembered it full well to throw it in her face; it wasn’t even a personal attack towards Martin, it was something Helen tried to do to Basira, I’m glad that Martin is still absolutely offended about it ;w;

- I felt like Jon and Helen had two definitions of “what we want”: Helen potentially talking about quick, short-term wants (even if they turn out to be self-destructive), while Jon was more about well-thought decisions and choices?

(MAG183) HELEN: [EXASPERATED SIGH] Oh, give over. I was obviously just prodding her, trying to make a point. She didn’t want to kill her. ARCHIVIST: What we want doesn’t matter much these days. HELEN: Oh, [RASPBERRY NOISE], nonsense. What we want is the only thing that matters these days. And Basira wanted to join Daisy. ARCHIVIST: She made her choice. HELEN: With your assistance. ARCHIVIST: It was still her choice. HELEN: [SIGH] What a waste. ARCHIVIST: No. [INHALE] It wasn’t.

There have been a lot of discussions about “choices” and “wants” throughout the series (with big moments in MAG092, MAG117 and MAG147), so it felt a bit nice that Jon seems to have reached a point where he could draw a line between both? Jon, Martin and Basira didn’t want this world, don’t want the way it operates and what it inflicts on them; it doesn’t mean they can’t weigh options and make specific decisions – Basira, to honour her promise to Daisy and kill the monster she had become; Jon, to not smite for revenge (and Martin, to face his own domain).

I LOVE HOW JON WAS FIRM ABOUT BASIRA’S CHOICE MATTERING ;w; It once again reminds me of Martin’s line to Simon: “I think our experience of the universe has value. Even if it disappears forever.” (MAG151); the little things, the individual existences and choices, their own stories, still having value in the expanse of the universe…

- Martin! It’s a delight to see him so firm, having faith in Basira although he’s been so worried for her:

(MAG179) ARCHIVIST: Martin, this is what she needs. MARTIN: No, no! I–it’s…! BASIRA: It’ll… MARTIN: It’s completely– […] … We’re not doing this. BASIRA: [SOFTLY] Martin. Please. [SILENCE] MARTIN: … [SIGH] You’d better look after yourself. BASIRA: I will.

(MAG180) ARCHIVIST: How are you doing? About… MARTIN: Yeah, yeah. Yeah. I’m… I don’t know. I’m–I’m not sure how to feel; just… pressing on, you know? ARCHIVIST: I do. [SILENCE] MARTIN: Do you think she’ll be okay without us? ARCHIVIST: Oh, she’s made it this far. MARTIN: … Yeah. I just worry.

(MAG183) MARTIN: Basira is… She’s going to be okay.

And then pointing out that he was involved in the discussion too and that he wanted to know what the other two knew already and not be kept out of the loop:

(MAG183) HELEN: Oh. Is she? Do you want me to tell you what she’s been up to while you were “resting”? Where she is right now? ARCHIVIST: You don’t need to. I already know. MARTIN: I don’t. [STATIC RISES] ARCHIVIST: She’s currently moving through, uh… “The Void.” [STATIC FADES] Hungry shadows drifting in the dark. She’s been there a long time now, struggling to find the path. MARTIN: But she will? ARCHIVIST: I think so. HELEN: Yeah, she does always seem to manage, doesn’t she? It’s impressive. Although a little bit… tempting at times.

I’m not absoooolutely sure about Basira’s status: is “the void” a space between domains, or is it a Dark domain that Basira is having trouble finding the exit of, since unlike Jon, she can’t just “know” the paths? I suspect the latter but I’m not 100% certain. If it’s indeed The Dark, that’s a close to home one for her, since she had a few brushes with it over the course of the show – the Section 31 expedition to save Callum Brodie, leading to Rayner’s death and Basira’s decision to quit the police, her research to find out more about the People’s Church of the Divine Host (as shown in season 3) and her overall worry about them, which allowed Elias to convince her that they would attempt another ritual in Ny-Ålesund, leading to her discovering what “Rayner” was and travelling there with Jon, finding Manuela and the Dark Sun mid-season 4…

;ww; for Jon having faith in Basira, too… And the fact that once again, Basira has it a bit rougher than Jon&Martin (Jon had already told Martin that it had been a difficult journey for her, before they reunited). Helen does have a point that Basira seems to manage to find her way out in general: she had successfully escaped The Unknowing on her own, she had survived The Flesh’s attack on the Institute, she had pursued Daisy in the apocalypse… Basira has already gone through Helen’s corridors (offscreen at the end of MAG143, to return to the Institute), I’m YIKES about Helen implying that it would be “tempting” to grab her. (… But at the same time, why hasn’t she done it already, if she is capable of doing it? It might be a bit more complicated than that?)

- … I love Martin, I love that he was RIGHT to point out that Helen had just waltzed in to try and steer chaos:

(MAG183) MARTIN: Look, Helen, what do you even want? Okay, you keep turning up like a bad penny and, honestly, it, it seems like it’s… it’s just to be a dick! HELEN: Gasp! I am trying to be friends, Martin. Forever is a long time. And I occasionally like to have some company that isn’t… screaming. MARTIN: … What do you even think friendship is? HELEN: I dunno, do I? The only personhood I have is from someone I ate.

It feels like Helen has REALLY tried hard to make up for the weeks(?) she couldn’t find Jon and Martin? She went extra-hard on them: first with Basira, then implying to Jon that he had manipulated her into killing Daisy, then pointing out that Basira was not safe at the moment and still at risk of falling prey to other Fears (including herself), then trying to mock Martin about his domain, trying to guilt-trip Jon for not having told him about it yet, and when she finally managed to get Martin shocked and upset… job done, byebye.

Is it that she’s trying to get Jon so riled up he ends her? “Helen” used to like Jon and to turn to him (MAG101: “Helen liked you so… there’s a lot to consider. But I will help you leave.” / MAG115: “Before, talking to you made Helen feel better.”), before she was absolutely Down With Doors And Murders (MAG146: “We do what we need to do when it comes to feeding, don’t we? … Don’t we, Archivist?”), is it a remnant of that? Or is it really just an attempt at confusing Jon and Martin further, feeding from them Spiral-style?

- More about Martin’s domain later, but the reveal was BRUTAL, and yet not coming out of nowhere; we knew he had one, we knew he had almost been trapped in the Lonely house in MAG170 and the question was whether or not it had been (/was still) his domain once Martin got freed from it, but there was also the question of how Martin was able to walk in the apocalypse unharmed (was it due to Jon’s proximity, Martin’s connection to The Eye as an assistant, etc.), and Basira’s own status after Daisy’s death… so, yay! Answers and clarifications, and as usual, nothing feeling like a plot-twist, just things that make sense, and that we already had most of the information about!

(MAG183) ARCHIVIST: Martin… MARTIN: Are there people, Jon? ARCHIVIST: What? MARTIN: Are there people in my domain? ARCHIVIST: Not many. [SILENCE] MARTIN: Do you need to do your… your thing? Make a statement about whatever’s going on in there? … I could use a moment to think. ARCHIVIST: Sure thing. Yeah, I–I’ll… [INHALE] Yeah. [EXHALE] [BAG JOSTLING] [DEPARTING FOOTSTEPS]

Sobbing a bit about Martin’s priorities (“Are there people, Jon?”) and Martin asking for a quick me-time. It wasn’t ice-cold, Martin turned it into something useful for both of them (expecting that Jon would have to give his statement anyway), but aouch, he sounded absolutely shattered inside while blank on the surface…

- Yes, yes, yes, reminder that Smirke’s categorisation is arbitrary and just like the Doctor’s theory, sometimes just doesn’t work, because it’s trying to force-apply rules and a classification over something that resists it (and because the classification is not perfect from the start), but hey, that’s most theories and classifications out there anyway, so: Escher reference, the functioning of the Tower reminding me of the Great Twisting, and the reasonings sometimes reminding me of Gabriel’s work (MAG126), plus Helen popping by – it was Spiral stuff, right?

Well! I felt like it looks like Spiral, but the Doctor’s fears by themselves:

(MAG183) ARCHIVIST: “But it is not the fall that terrifies him, not the pain of the impacts, but the fact that none of them should be there. That it doesn’t make sense, and it must make sense, there must be a system, there must be, because if there isn’t– [THE BODY LANDS WETLY] He lands with a heavy smack onto rough limestone, and lies still, his body twisted and broken. He knows it will knit itself back together, slowly, painfully, as it always has before. But the thought of starting over, of composing yet another theory, fills him with a deep dread.”

… are more something I would identify as Eye (fear of a truth) and Hunt (fear of having to return to the start, to have to elaborate a new theory from scratch, again and again, of being trapped forever)?

It was really reminiscent of Smirke thinking back over his life, his hubris and the pride of being the one who would have found the answer, to the point where he would reject reality if it didn’t match his taxonomy (refusing to, well… do what you do with a theory: change, or evolve and perfect it when its flaws are pointed out):

(MAG138, Robert Smirke) “I believed then, as I still believe now, that these places I saw were the Powers themselves, expressed in their truest form, far more entirely than any ‘secret book’ can claim. And if, as I came to believe, the Dread Powers were themselves places of a sort, then surely with the right space, the right architecture, they could be contained. Channelled. Harnessed. So yes. Hubris. Not simply in that, I suppose, but in believing that those I brought into my confidence shared my lofty goals. […] Would you have me separate The Corruption between insects, dirt and disease? To, to divide the fungal bloom from the maggot? No. No, I… stand by my work. And thus, we must conclude that the only explanation is a new Power, created from what was once others, yet also distinct. And if such change is possible, how then can any “true balance” be achieved through immutable, unchanging stone…?”

(MAG183) ARCHIVIST: “If they are feeling very confident, they may lean down and stretch a curious tongue beyond their chipped teeth and rotten gums, desperate to add another sense to their observances – more evidence to support their declaration of what the world must be. […] They must simply study and learn, if they are to escape the labyrinth. They will be the first to escape. The one who sits in the central chamber cannot remember his name. But he knows that people called him “doctor”. He made sure of that; to ignore it would have been the greatest disrespect, and he will not be disrespected. […] He knows, for a fact, that this is the central chamber because he is the one sat here. […] They’ll all remember him forever, the first to escape the Monument. His name will be hallowed with the greats: Doctor, uh… Doctor…”

Same old pride, Leitner knew that well too (MAG080: “But I think, in my heart, I dreamed of my work becoming known. That ‘The Library of Jurgen Leitner’ would stand as a symbol of courage and protection. Hubris.”) and Gerry didn’t have many nice things to say about it (MAG111: “Flamsteed, Smirke, Leitner. Idiots who destroyed themselves chasing a secret that wasn’t worth knowing.”). Loved how the statements came for Smirke’s life and was absolutely ruthless about it – but maayyybe a bit too ruthless, even? Jon didn’t express much sympathy for “fools like Smirke” either, and this is a rare case in season 5 where I find that the statement was a bit lacking in empathy for… people who were technically victims. I mean! Insufferable pedantic academics sure are a type, they’re really not having the worst life out there, but it makes me feel a bit weird, with season 5’s overall tone, that the episode had that vibe of “serves them well, they’re insufferable” about people who were technically still trapped in a domain and suffering from it?

… I still laughed a lot about the Doctor vs. Professor rivalry and how they solved their argument:

(MAG183) ARCHIVIST: “The doctor that lies on the floor has recovered, just enough to laugh. ‘You’re still working on mineral theory? How painfully outdated.’ A flash of genuine fear crosses the face of the professor at this dismissal, before he picks up his chunk of granite, and begins to smash the doctor’s head in, yet again.” [SOUNDS OF BRUTAL PEER REVIEW]

Academia unleashed.

(- OKAY, I HAVE TO CONFESS that when the character could only remember his title as “Doctor”, with Smirke having been mentioned earlier, my mind just jumped to Doctor Fanshawe… ;; He had left a strong impression on me, okay.)

- ;w; Over the fact that Martin got his me-time and that it was enough: he was clearly tense, but he came back with direct questions and knew what he wanted cleared up…

(MAG183) MARTIN: Finished? ARCHIVIST: Yes. MARTIN: Good. … I need you to explain something to me. ARCHIVIST: All right.

- I can’t believe that Martin Global Heartthrob Blackwood made The Eye FALL FOR HIM too:

(MAG183) MARTIN: How do I have a domain? That doesn’t make any sense. ARCHIVIST: It’s like I said. [INHALE] Everything here is either watcher, or watched. MARTIN: [SIGH] Subject or object, yes, I know, we’ve been over this. ARCHIVIST: Well, you’re a watcher, Martin. You worked for the Institute, you read statements, The Eye is… fond of you. You’re not getting thrown into your own personal hell, which means…

Jane, Peter, Simon, Elias, Salesa, Annabelle, now Beholding – do you have any limit, Martin.

!! I’m excited over the fact that Martin’s entanglement with Beholding stuff was acknowledged! Comparatively, Melanie had read 2 statements (MAG086, MAG106) and Basira 1 (MAG112). Meanwhile, Martin had read 12; plus, although Tim, Melanie, Martin and Basira had taken (… or tried to take) one live statement each in MAG100, Martin had also taken 3 additional full statements:

MAG084, Adrian Weiss (Corruption) MAG088, Enrique MacMillan (Buried) MAG090, Ross Davenport (Flesh) MAG095, Luca Moretti (Slaughter) MAG098, Doctor Algernon Moss (Dark) MAG100 (live), Lynne Hammond (Desolation) MAG104 (live), Tim Stoker (Stranger) MAG108, Adonis Biros (Lonely) MAG110, Alexia Crawley (Web) MAG134, Adelard Dekker (Extinction) MAG138, Robert Smirke (Eye) MAG142 (live), Jess Tyrell (Buried, Eye) MAG144, Gary Boylan (Extinction) MAG149, Judith O’Neill (Extinction) MAG151 (live), Simon Fairchild (Vast) MAG156, Adelard Dekker (Extinction)

With Simon highlighting that Beholding had compelled him through Martin:

(MAG151) SIMON: Hm! No wonder I’m so sympathetic to The Lonely. You know: this really is a place for self-discovery, isn’t it? [CHUCKLE] “Statement ends”, I suppose! MARTIN: Uh… I’m sorry? SIMON: Oh! Nothing, just my own hubris. I should have known. When I came here, I said to myself: “Simon,” I said, “you’re going to answer this young man’s questions, but you’re not going to give The Watcher a statement. You’re better than that.” But it’s a hard one to resist, isn’t it? You get in the flow of talking about yourself, and it all just… tumbles out. MARTIN: Mm, does seem like it.

Elias might have been eyeing him as back-up Archivist, too (although since then, we’ve learned of his bet with Peter which would have already been running at the time – it might have been that Elias mostly wanted to ensure that Martin wouldn’t die during the Unknowing because he’d be needing him afterwards):

(MAG116) ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] What about Martin? MARTIN: What about me? ARCHIVIST: He should stay behind. MARTIN: What?! ELIAS: Really. MARTIN: Why? ARCHIVIST: Too many people might attract attention. MARTIN: No, no, I can help, I’ve been reading the statements! ELIAS: … Quite right, er, probably best he does stay behind. BASIRA: What, so you have a backup if Jon doesn’t make it? ELIAS: I’m sure that won’t be necessary.

Martin did a lot of research, read these statements aloud, took live statements, was hinted as a potential replacement; tape recorders have spawned around him like they do with Jon, even outside of statements, and Martin had been exceptionally kind towards them on multiple occasions; there had been that little moment of Martin somehow knowing that Jon was alive back in season 3 (MAG088: “It’s the not knowing, you know? I mean, Jon’s still alive. Not sure why, but I’m sure of that. But Sasha, I…”), shortly before we had learned about Jon’s own Knowing powers developing; we don’t know why and whether that was Beholding or The Web or something else, but Martin had been able to know how to get Jon out of the Coffin in season 4:

(MAG134) PETER: What does puzzle me, though, and I mean that genuinely, is… why you were piling tape recorders onto the coffin, while Jon was in there. [PAUSE] It’s a question, Martin, it’s– it’s not an accusation. MARTIN: I don’t know. And I just… felt like it might help. He’s always recording, I thought… it–it might help him… find his way out. PETER: Interesting. Were you compelled? MARTIN: [SULLEN] … I don’t know. … M–maybe? I–I, I definitely wanted to do it… PETER: But? MARTIN: I’m… I’m not sure where the idea came from. PETER: You should watch out for that. Could be something dangerous. MARTIN: Sure.

… And Peter’s whole plan relied on the fact that Martin was initially touched by Beholding:

(MAG134) PETER: [BREATHES] I’m still working out some of the kinks. But I believe I have a plan. However, it requires this place, and it requires someone touched by The Beholding. Elias was, perhaps unsurprisingly, unwilling to help.

(MAG158) PETER: It’s quite simple, really…! I want to use the powers of this place to learn about The Extinction: what it’s doing, where it’s manifesting. Then we can stop it. MARTIN: And you need me for this? PETER: Correct! Without a connection to The Eye, any attempt to use it would likely end… very messily indeed! But thankfully, it just so happens that you hold such a connection. MARTIN: So that’s it… Both “lonely” and “watching”. PETER: You must admit you’re the perfect candidate. MARTIN: I suppose I am.

Beholding baby!! Now coming in an additional Lonely flavour.

- Mmmmmmmm… The way Jon put it, it seems that Beholding is consciously rewarding its servant and:

* It could be Jon trying to make sense of something else, that he doesn’t understand? Gertrude didn’t think that the Fears were able to “think” at all (MAG145: “Sometimes, I think They understand us as… little as we understand Them. We don’t think like They do.” “I’m not actually convinced they “think” at all.”); reward&affection could be primitive enough feelings for a blob of terrors to work out (Martin fed Beholding as an assistant by reading statements => Beholding grants him things in the hope of getting fed even more?), but I don’t know, I can’t help but wonder if this is just Jon humanising the Fears a bit too much? It’s curious that Beholding got “fond” of Martin precisely when Jon himself fell in love with him – could Jon’s feelings have influenced Martin’s position in the apocalypse, could Jon be having a bit more power over the landscape than he realises?

* … If Beholding is rewarding its servants, that doesn’t bode well for Elias. WELL, no, I mean: it might mean that Elias is having a Great Time as a Beholding acolyte, which means it doesn’t bode well for my desire to see Elias get absolutely wrecked and wrong about being the “king of a ruined world”. I want him to have miscalculated, damnit! x’D

- I’m having so many feelings over Martin himself being unsure of what he wants, whether it’s better to know or to remain ignorant…

(MAG183) ARCHIVIST: It’s like I said. [INHALE] Everything here is either watcher, or watched. MARTIN: [SIGH] Subject or object, yes, I know, we’ve been over this. ARCHIVIST: Well, you’re a watcher, Martin. You worked for the Institute, you read statements, The Eye is… fond of you. You’re not getting thrown into your own personal hell, which means… MARTIN: [QUIETLY] That one of them belongs to me. But that’s… Ho–how can I be a “Watcher”? I, I didn’t even know it existed! ARCHIVIST: But you’ve suspected for a while now, haven’t you? MARTIN: Maybe? But that’s not “watching”! ARCHIVIST: Do you want me to tell you about it? MARTIN: No. … Yes. N–no, no, I don’t know, I don’t know. [SIGH]

Is it a remnant of his discussions with Tim in season 3? He’s basically gone the reverse of Tim about it:

(MAG098) MARTIN: Y’know, I think he thinks that the distance keeps us safe, you know? Like, like, if he just makes sure that we’re not involved, we’re somehow fine. TIM: He’s an idiot. Look, we didn’t know what that door was, and it still trapped us. Ignorance isn’t going to save anyone. MARTIN: No, I mean, you’re right, I guess.

Martin has seen enough to know now that ignorance doesn’t protect anyone, but also that knowledge can be used as a weapon – that the horrors are just made to hurt. I feel like, in his situation, noping out of Jon’s statements was one of his only ways to assert his boundaries (which had been denied from him — and from others — for a long time)? But here, the situation is different; it’s about Martin’s own involvement, he knew the knowledge would hurt anyway… but it’s also his load to bear? To at least face what is happening, since he’s benefitting from it, since he’s been made complicit (without ever wanting to)? It still goes perfectly with the exploration of exploitative and oppressive systems: Martin, unknowingly and unwillingly inflicting hurt, still being in a better situation than others… while not being directly responsible for it, not wanting to benefit from it. It really makes me want to see Jon&Martin find a way to reverse or improve things, to get people out of the domains or giving them the keys to escape them, and I don’t know if I can even hope something about this ;; (On the Jon&Martin front, things are so good; but it still feels so unfair for… everyone else.)

- Martin having a domain and being classified as a “watcher” finally explains why he hadn’t been impacted by the apocalypse since the Change! He had been able to get out of the domains’ grasp even when he wasn’t around Jon (he had fallen behind at the end of MAG163, he wandered around in the Web’s theatre, he left Jon alone for most of the statements), and there was still the question of… how he was still surviving without eating, and at the same time wasn’t (at least as far as we knew) trapped in a domain:

(MAG161) MARTIN: [MIRTHLESS HUFF] What about food? ARCHIVIST: What about it? When’s the last time you thought to eat, o–or even felt hungry? MARTIN: [FAINT] What…? Wha… Uh… I don’t know. ARCHIVIST: No. Whatever is sustaining us now doesn’t need us to eat. MARTIN: That… that can’t be possible– ARCHIVIST: It’s a new world, Martin, the natural laws are whatever they want them to be. And I suspect they don’t much care to keep humanity fed and watered.

I was wondering if it was Jon’s influence, or Martin being “trapped” in Jon’s domain, and Jon had also alluded to the possibility that they were themselves trapped in their quest towards the Panopticon:

(MAG169) ARCHIVIST: “Free” doesn’t really exist in this place. MARTIN: Apart from us. ARCHIVIST: I suppose. I–in a sense, though… [CHUCKLING] how much of that is because we are trapped in our own quest to– MARTIN: Okay, let’s, let’s not dive into another… ontological debate right now, not here. ARCHIVIST: Fair enough.

And Jon had even specifically told Martin that he had a domain, shortly before Martin got almost imprisoned in the Lonely house:

(MAG167) ARCHIVIST: We all have a domain here, Martin. The place that feeds us. MARTIN: Oh. [PAUSE] Where’s yours? ARCHIVIST: [MIRTHLESS CHUCKLE] I mean, we’re… traveling towards it. MARTIN: Oh! Right, obviously. [CHUCKLING] Duh. Hum… What about me? ARCHIVIST: … Would you… like me to… ? MARTIN: No, no. Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know. ARCHIVIST: … Okay!

(MAG170) ARCHIVIST: I, I didn’t want to… look too ha–, I–I–I promised I wouldn’t… know you, and, and with the fog in all–all the rooms, I’ll, I just, I lost y–, I… I–I’m sorry. MARTIN: It’s okay. ARCHIVIST: … No, I… I tried to use the… to know where you were, but… it was… You–you were faint. It was so strange, i–it took me so long just to find you…! [RUSTLING OF CLOTHES] MARTIN: Jon, it’s… okay. I promise it’s okay. This place tried, it really did, and honestly I… I wanted to believe it. But I didn’t. ARCHIVIST: This… “place”, i–it… [STATIC] My god…! […] I, I just… I wanted to make sure that you knew what this place was. MARTIN: It’s The Lonely, Jon. It’s me. ARCHIVIST: [INHALE] Not anymore. MARTIN: Hm! No. [LONG INHALE, EXHALE] No…! Not anymore.

And alright, that finally answers it: the Lonely house wasn’t his domain, wasn’t meant to be (but he was susceptible to it, got almost trapped in it as a “watched” although he eventually managed to reject and break free from it). His own domain was elsewhere, and Martin himself was amongst the “watchers” all along; Martin is living a bit like Helen in this apocalypse, having a fixed domain, but able to navigate elsewhere.

Aouch for Martin, since he had been encouraging Jon to smite domains’ rulers as soon as he discovered that Jon could do it; it was already murky territory for Jon himself (if the “avatars” and “monsters” just deserve to die, what about Jon?), it was awful with Callum (Martin himself drew the line at smiting a kid)… but now, we know it was directly including him, too, and that he had been fed through people’s pain all along. No wonder Helen had encouraged the smiting so hard, if she already knew they were kind of neighbours…

… Double-aouch for Jon, because he had offered twice the option for Martin to stay elsewhere, permanently:

(MAG170) ARCHIVIST: M–Martin, if you… did; i–if you wanted to forget… a–all of it, stay here and just… escape. I… I would understand. MARTIN: … N–no…! It’s comforting here, leaving all those… painful memories behind, but… It’s not a good comfort, it’s… I–it’s the kind that makes you fade, makes you… dim and… distant.

(MAG181) ARCHIVIST: I’m sorry, I… It would have been nice to stay. MARTIN: [WISTFULLY] Yeah… I’d almost forgotten what it was like, you know? A bit of peace, eh! ARCHIVIST: I mean, you could have… MARTIN: No, don’t say it, Jon. You know I never would. I–I can’t just “forget” about all the people out here! Besides, I’d rather be trapped in a post-apocalyptic wasteland with you than spend one more moment in paradise with her.

And Jon probably didn’t know what Martin’s domain was exactly, back then, since we heard the knowing static kick in when he described the domain in this episode? But he probably knew, already, that Martin having a domain didn’t mean that he belonged to it as a victim, but as a ruler, and that it would hurt Martin so much. (“No one gets what they deserve. Not in this place. They just get whatever hurts them the most! … Even me.”, indeed ;;)

- I AM HAVING SO MANY FEELINGS OVER THE DESCRIPTION OF MARTIN’S DOMAIN…

(MAG183) [STATIC RISES] ARCHIVIST: It’s a small domain. A swirling mix of The Eye and The Lonely. Inhabited by a few lost souls whose fear is not of their isolation or their agonies, but that no-one… will ever know of them. That they shall suffer in silence, and be mourned by nobody. That’s why you can’t really see it. It’s why even if we do travel through it, you won’t be able to see… any of the people trapped there.

… It reminds me so much of what Martin probably experienced in his own flat, when Prentiss besieged him for two weeks and Martin was unable to contact anyone, and nobody came to check on him? Did Martin’s domain grow from his own old fears…?

It also reminds me a bit of Naomi’s brush with The Lonely:

(MAG013) NAOMI: The fog seemed to follow me as went and seemed to swirl around with a strange, deliberate motion. You’ll probably think me an idiot, but it felt almost malicious. I don’t know what it wanted, but somehow I was sure it wanted something. There was no presence to it, though, it wasn’t as though another person was there, it was… It made me feel utterly forsaken.

Overall, the description is extremely… typical from what we’ve seen of The Lonely: there was Naomi’s misadventure, Ethan disappeared and nobody even claimed his backpack (MAG048), Yetunde Uthman had “disappeared a year ago. And nobody noticed” (MAG150)…

(But from that description alone, it doesn’t sound very Beholding, despite what Jon said? I’m curious about the Eye aspect of it…)

- Can’t believe that Martin canonically turns out to be the Lonely Eyes love(hate)child, gdi. It really was a custody battle in MAG158.

- Extra-sad that Jon warned Martin that there was meaning in the fact that Martin didn’t know anything about his domain, and wouldn’t even be able to see people in there… It’s just so cruel, both for them, and for Martin, to learn that he’s been unknowingly contributing to their misery (because they fed him and he didn’t even know about them)?

Pretty sure that Martin will stay with Jon to hear that statement, at the very least ;; (Or could he ask for something more? We’ve seen Jon extracting Breekon’s statement in MAG128, I wonder if he could put something into someone’s head like Elias had done, allowing Martin to give that statement himself…)

- I’m wondering about Jon’s own domain, too, now! He said they were heading towards it, so it’s either the Panopticon, the Institute or the Archives, or a mix of those… or something close to it, on their way to it. If Martin’s domain is a mix of Lonely&Eye, is Jon’s pure Eye? A mix of the 14/15? A Web&Eye mix, given Jon’s own personal fears?

I know that Jonny (lovingly) called out the obsessive classification in this episode through Jon, who went off on a rant about the “neat little boxes”, but he’s still using the Smirke classification this season:

(MAG183) ARCHIVIST: It’s a small domain. A swirling mix of The Eye and The Lonely.

(AND IN THIS VERY EPISODE… Jon…)

- On the one hand: feeling directly called out by Jon’s rant about how the divisions between avatars/monsters/humans/victims wasn’t and isn’t working, that reality escapes that division because it’s much more complicated than this:

(MAG183) ARCHIVIST: [HEATED] Avatar isn’t a thing, Martin, it’s not–! It’s just a word. A word used by… fools like Smirke to try and sort everything into neat little boxes, to reduce the messy spray of human fear into a checklist: Human, avatar, monster, victim. Only now, now, there’s a binary. There’s finally a clear dividing line and… [SIGH] Well. I’m sorry you’re not happy with which side you’ve ended up on.

(It felt especially relevant with Callum Brodie: could we really tell that he was an “avatar” when he was still a freshly wounded kid, even if a tormentor himself?)

On the other hand, well, that was still a useful distinction to have to identify servants, and mostly, I’m not extremely convinced by Jon arguing that there is now a Clear BinaryTM in the new world, between the “watchers” and the “watched”, since:

1°) Helen herself explained the dichotomy to Martin (MAG166: “And so, there are now exactly two roles available in this new world of ours: the watcher, and the watched. Subject, and object. Those who are feared, and those who are afraid.”). Given that she mostly tries to confuse them… that’s a red flag.

2°) Despite Jon defending that binary, we’ve run into plenty of examples of things… not fitting into that new classification. He himself acknowledged that Basira’s status wasn’t established yet; we’ve seen Salesa, protected by his camera from the chaos; Jon has been unable to know about Georgie and Melanie, only hypothesising that they might in what-used-to-be-London; Martin, a watcher, could still have fallen prey to another domain… That’s already a lot of special cases around that “clear dividing line”…

3°) Somethingsomethingsomething about how it’s in Beholding’s best interest that Jon believes in a clear, unchangeable, dividing line which serves Beholding’s own interests. If things feel fixed and unchangeable, then there is no point trying to fight against it or find a loophole, right?

Given that a Watcher can get trapped in another domain… does that mean that it could be the case for Jon, too? We got a threat of it in MAG172, when Jon began to give the statement of the following act – if Martin hadn’t interrupted him, would Jon have ever been able to stop?

- Confirmation that Daisy had “trapped” Basira in her Hunt! I was suspecting it since Jon’s first wording:

(MAG164) MARTIN: Is Basira alive? ARCHIVIST: [INHALE] MARTIN: Is she… in… o–one of these places? [STATIC RISES] ARCHIVIST: She’s alive. Out there, not… trapped in a–a hellscape, but… moving. [STATIC DECREASES] Hunting. She’s… she’s looking for Daisy. She’s a few steps behind.

(MAG183) MARTIN: … What about Daisy? Or Basira? ARCHIVIST: Daisy carved through the domains of others. Basira… well… In a very real way she was a sufferer in Daisy’s domain. Maybe the only one. Hunting, following, hurting. Now Daisy’s dead, she’s… free. Sort of. She’s inherited something of Daisy’s ability to move through the other domains. For now, she’ll… feed off what she sees in them. As to whether the Eye ultimately gives her a domain of her own… I don’t know yet.

* And now, Basira seems to have a peculiar status… Is it because she killed Daisy? Is it because she killed the ruler of her domain? Jon explained that a ruler’s death didn’t change much for the domain itself, but maybe it operates differently if a victim kills a ruler (… they become the new ruler?)

* Another reminder that Jon cannot see the future.

* Big Eyeball didn’t immediately give Basira a domain, but Martin got one. I see that favouritism, uh. (Joke, it does make sense given how Martin recorded a lot of statements and had worked at the Institute for years and years.)

- I love how Jon managed to explain why he hadn’t told Martin everything, and how Martin… indeed agreed that Jon had been mostly trying to respect his wishes about not knowing ;; It’s true that Martin had been adamant about not hearing much of the horror:

(MAG163) MARTIN: J–Jon, enough! Enough! [STATIC FADES] … Please don’t tell me these things. ARCHIVIST: I… I’m sorry, I– There’s just so much! There’s so much, Martin, and I know all of it, I can see all of it, and I– It’s filling me up, I need to let it out! MARTIN: I’m sorry, but tough. Okay? Tha–that’s not what I’m here for. [VOICE IN THE DISTANCE: “No… No!”] MARTIN: I can’t be that for you, I–I just can’t.

(MAG167) MARTIN: Oh! Right, obviously. [CHUCKLING] Duh. Hum… What about me? ARCHIVIST: … Would you… like me to… ? MARTIN: No, no. Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know. ARCHIVIST: … Okay!

(MAG183) MARTIN: You didn’t tell her any of that. ARCHIVIST: I didn’t think the metaphysics of her place in the fear ecosystem was something she’d be particularly interested in at that moment. MARTIN: Fair. But you seem very reluctant to tell anyone any of this stuff. ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] I did try, right at the start, but y–you didn’t seem to want to talk about it, so I didn’t push it. It’s hard, I have so much knowledge but… how do I decide what people want me to share, and what they never want to know?. MARTIN: I guess that makes sense.

But Martin seems to acknowledge that indeed, Jon had been trying his best about it…

(And now, I wonder if there is still other stuff that Jon hadn’t told Martin, in the same vein…)

- First choice for Martin:

(MAG183) ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] I was going to bring it up at the crossroads. Inside. I only just realised we would be going this way. […] MARTIN: I guess that makes sense. … So what did you mean about the crossroads? When you were talking to Helen. ARCHIVIST: It’s a maze in there, something between a, a Rubik’s Cube and a Magic Eye picture. I can find us the way through easily enough but… well. For us, there are two ways out. Two paths to London. MARTIN: What are the choices? ARCHIVIST: One would be a long, winding route, we’d see a lot of horrors, but remain… personally untouched. MARTIN: And the other is my domain. ARCHIVIST: Eventually. It’s a shorter path, with faces we know along the way. Including Helen. MARTIN: I thought Helen was her domain, wi–with all the doors and that? ARCHIVIST: She is, but she has a… position within this pseudo-landscape, like any other. MARTIN: O–okay. [INHALE] So, so, I mean, I suppose we’ve got to do that one, right? ARCHIVIST: We don’t have to, w–we–we could just– MARTIN: What, what? We could, we could dodge around it? Take the path of denial? I guess, but… what is it you keep harping on about? “The journey will be the journey”? [SIGH] I mean… It’s pretty obvious that this one is my journey.

! Glad that Martin didn’t hesitate and immediately understood what it was about – that it mattered to do it that way, that Martin had to face it, that this is how this world works. No hesitation about it. He got a demonstration with Basira, but still, he was quick to accept it.

I’m expecting a few episodes before Martin’s domain, so… with the overall rhythm of the season, they might reach the Institute by MAG189? And Hill Top Road during Act III?

- Since Jon mentioned that the path Martin ended up choosing had:

(MAG183) ARCHIVIST: Eventually. It’s a shorter path, with faces we know along the way. Including Helen.

I wonder about those “faces we know”, since we’re running super-low on ~avatars~. Different options:

* Institute staff. Rosiiiie?

* Melanie&Georgie. A bit unlikely, given that Jon had trouble knowing what was the deal with them, I feel?

* Since Helen will be there, people who gave live statements to Jon and were trapped in his nightmare zoo. I’m mostly thinking about this one, especially since Jon’s “No one gets what they deserve. Not in this place. They just get whatever hurts them the most! … Even me.”… (And if it’s about an internal and metaphorical journey, I feel like having to face people that Jon hurt, first unaware (he didn’t know about the nightmare zoo when he signed to become the Head Archivist), then partially unwilling but still doing it (he felt guilty about it but still hid it, still chose self-preservation instead of warning the others about it), would have its place…)

- In the same fashion, who is trapped in Martin’s domain? Unrelated people? Live statement-givers? (;; I’m thinking of Jess, who had the misfortune of being compelled by Jon and of giving a statement to Martin…)

… Given that it’s confirmed to be a “journey” for Martin too, I can’t help but squint at Jon’s wording, because. “Faces we know”. The only thing we know of Martin’s father is the fact that he looks like Martin… (MAG118: “The thing is, though, Martin: if you ever do want to know exactly what your father looked like… all you have to do is look in a mirror~ The resemblance is quite uncanny. The face of the man she hates, who destroyed her life, watching over her, feeding her, cleaning her, looking down on her with such pity–”)

- I’ll be having Annabelle’s words stuck in my head (ha) for a long time but:

(MAG181) ANNABELLE: Don’t worry, Martin. We’ll meet again. Hopefully when you’re feeling a little bit more… open-minded…! MARTIN: I wouldn’t count on it. ANNABELLE: I would. MARTIN: [SIGH]

… Was it a reference to Martin learning about his own domain and about how the world operates, his place in it? I think that Martin might be even more resolved to turn the world back at whatever cost, now that he knows that he is himself sustained by fear…

(LISTEN, THIS IS ABSOLUTELY HOW WEB!MARTIN CAN STILL WI–)

- !! Footage of Martin saying “I love you” for the first time ;w; I love how it was the thing he was certain about, both a slight decompressing joke and a true statement, a reminder that he has faith in Jon, that he has something to cling to?

(MAG183) ARCHIVIST: If you’re sure. MARTIN: … I’m sure I love you. [FOOTSTEPS] ARCHIVIST: I love you too. [FABRIC RUSTLES] Let’s go.

(He had mentioned that he was “in love” in MAG170, I’m happy to hear him telling Jon, too!) And the fabric RUSTLED, SO LONG AND SO HARD, AND AT LEAST TWICE!! I love how the tension from right before and after the statement had faded by the end of the episode ;w; Rollercoaster of little emotions…

MAG184’s makes me think of something Leitner had said (more lore about the Fearpocalypse?), and of Vast and Corruption… with very different vibes. If Corruption, and keeping in mind that Jon has announced that they will be encountering “faces [they] know along the way”, it cooould contain Jordan Kennedy, the exterminator from Pest Control…? Especially given that both Jon and Martin had met him (Jon took his live statement, and Martin pleaded offscreen for him to get them the jar of Prentiss’s ashes to comfort Jon).

(Yessss, I am absolutely aware of the irony of still using Smirke’s categorisation after another episode in which we were told again that it is bollocks, but if Jon himself still occasionally labels the domain as one of the 15, so can I ♥)