#i wish he would treat people as his friends rather than resources to keep at an arms distance!!!!!!

[bingobongobonko]

weeps. why is yves such a piece of shit asshole. i love you yves.

[yaksha-lover]

Track #2: Sunlight - Hozier Drabble Masterlist

Azul Ashengrotto x Reader

Summary: Azul treats everyone as a business arrangement. He thought it would be the same with you, until he realizes he’d much rather have you than your resources.

i. all the tales the same

An octopus has three hearts - that’s the explanation Azul’s mother would always give when he’d come home crying as a child. It was comforting, to explain away his sensitivity in a single phrase. You have to be more careful with yours, Azul, she’d say, rubbing his back. There’s more of you to break.

He understood what she meant far too well. Every tease, every taunt, every comment muttered behind his back (and most of the time to his face) was far too much for him to bear. They were only children, but so was he. Is it any wonder he’d stopped seeing people as more than transactional when all they’d seen him as was a joke?

If he didn’t care for them, if they were reduced to nothing but an inky signature, how could their words hurt him? They were nothing.

He thought you’d be nothing too.

You started off like most ‘relationships’ in his life; a business transaction. At least, that’s how he’d thought of you.

You, who was so blissfully kind and innocent, doe-eyed and naive, thought of him as a friend, and then eventually, more.

To him, you were easy prey. It would be simple to gain your friendship, your trust, maybe even your heart if he was so lucky. Then, it would be oh so simple to gain access to all that you could do for him.

ii. told before and told again

The plan requires more commitment than he’d realized, but he knows it will be worth it in the end. You, the sole heir of your father’s estate, will be in a position to let Azul gain access to a brand new market he’s been looking to expand into. If he has to play friend, he’s willing to do it.

You’re…lonelier than he expects. Azul isn’t exactly a social butterfly himself (at least, for non-business related reasons), but your eagerness to spend time with him certainly stems from more than just his ‘great companionship.’ He almost feels bad, for a moment, to lead you on, but he steels himself with the justification of his success.

You won’t mind, right? He gets your help, you get his friendship, even if it is manufactured. It’s an equal trade, he tells himself.

Spending all this time together, he learns things about you. Things that are disconcerting.

Azul hasn’t had trouble sleeping since he was a child. Everything he did was perfectly scheduled; how was he to function if not by keeping up a meticulous sleep cycle which guaranteed him a satisfying eight hours of rest per night?

He thinks you’re the reason he’s started lying awake. He can’t stop thinking about the things you’ve told him - maybe ‘let slip’ is the better term.

He’s used to coaxing information out of his clients; it’s good for business. Now he only wishes he wasn’t so good.

They aren’t so much secrets; it’s not as though you’ve made a great effort to hide them, only that no one has made an effort to look in the first place.

He’s played the dutiful friend long enough to know how…pitiful you can become after a night out or a hard day. He’s been there to take care of you, always making sure you get home safe or that you’re well fed. You’re a poor, unfortunate sight; you’re lucky it’s only Azul taking advantage of your resources and not someone much worse. His stomach churns at the thought of it - that’s one of the many things that keeps him up. It’s not that he’s worried; no, no, you were only a business arrangement of his. If anything were to happen to you, his whole plan could go to ruin.

That’s why he stays the night in your apartment, sleeping on the couch so he can check on you despite the fact that the commute will make him late for work and his back will hurt all day from the lumpy sofa. That’s why he can’t sleep, forced to make sure you’re sleeping soundly every few hours.

You’ll apologize in the morning for being a mess; you always do. The two of you put on a charade of sorts - you promise it won’t happen again, that you’re sorry for forcing him to take care of you (although you’d never asked a thing from him) and he pretends that none of it matters, that it’s not a big deal.

It’s only for the sake of business when he asks you to spend more time with him; if you’re not with your undesirable friends (who only get you into trouble, he thinks) then you (and his deal) will be safe. It’s certainly not because the last time he’d come to check on you, you’d had light bruises peppering your neck, almost as if someone had nipped at your skin gently and-

Azul perishes the thought from his mind. So what if he hasn’t won your heart? That’s not his goal, he doesn’t need your love to get your help, he’ll just-

iii. a soul that’s born in cold and rain

You kiss him, one night. You’re at his apartment, and it’s been a peaceful evening. He’d invited you over for dinner, cooking you one of the most recent dishes he’d been testing for his restaurant chain. The two of you had settled into his sofa, a movie playing in the background.

He noticed you hadn’t been paying attention; he was watching the screen, but you kept sneaking (not so subtle) glances at him every few seconds, putting him on edge. He turned to you, about to ask what was wrong, when you kissed him.

Your lips brush against his lightly; he almost wonders if he’d fallen asleep and was only dreaming the whole thing. He’d only just closed his eyes when he felt you pull away and begin to apologize for kissing him without asking. He can’t even form a response, only pulling you in to continue what you’d started.

Things only seem to spiral from there. Azul is, admittedly, a sensitive soul, perhaps too sentimental for his own good. He’d vowed to be utilitarian about his relationships; to view everyone only per their use value, and thus to never have to care. Caring, for him, typically meant getting hurt in some way, but he can’t quite help himself with you.

Your affection feels good. Your love is addicting. He refuses to let either of them go, thoughts of business and markets pushed to the furthest place in his mind.

It’s only natural, then, that the two of you quickly become closer than ever before. A toothbrush at his apartment quickly becomes you moving in; he’s a busy man, after all. What better way to see more of each other than living together (you practically spent all your time with him, anyway).

If you depend on him, that’s okay. That’s how it’s always been with the two of you, hasn’t it? He takes care of you, he always has.

iv. knows sunlight, sunlight, sunlight

He’s drifting off to sleep with you in his arms when he hears you speak.

“Azul?”

“Yes, darling?”

“I’m sorry.”

That makes him open his eyes. He moves to turn on the lamp, but you stop him. “Sorry? For what?”

“For taking advantage of you.”

That almost makes him laugh. “Pardon? I don’t seem to recall such a thing happening.”

“I know, Azul. You…you don’t need to pretend that you like me. I know you just want access to my father’s contacts. I knew since the beginning and I should’ve put a stop to it. I’m so, so sorry I just - you were so kind to me, and I couldn’t help but bask in your sunlight a little. But it’s gone too far. Look at us. You never should’ve had to become so close with me, it was wrong for me to hold on. For that, I’m sorry. There’s no need for us to continue this charade, I’ll give you the contacts you want. And…and I’ll be sure to get out of your life…”

Azul is silent for a moment, before he can’t hold back his chuckle any longer. He tries to contain himself once he sees the tears begin to pool in your eyes. You start to pull away, but he pulls you close with one arm, wiping away your tears with the other.

“Oh dear, you’re truly serious! You’re laying in my bed, in my arms, and you think you’re taking advantage of me? You thought I only wanted you for your resources and yet you feel sorry? I suppose your tender heart and naïveté are endearing, but it won’t do for you to be so vulnerable, my love. It’s a good thing I love you so much, any less and I might truly be tempted to take advantage of such a poor soul like yours~”

You look at him in confusion. “You mean it…but how can I trust you, Azul?”

His arms move to slip around your waist, pulling you in close to him. You can feel the heat of his smooth skin move against your body, the warmth of his breath on you face.

“How indeed, my love? I suppose I’ll have to show you, then. Actions speak louder than words, after all.”

With that, Azul lifts himself off the bed, drawing you under him and capturing your lips once again.

[fictoculus]

Dunno if you've done this before, but characters with tall reader!

This is mostly me being sick and having OC obsession brain rot, but the majority of my OCs are 5'9–6'0+ for reference by what I mean for "tall".

Love your writing, by the way! Keep yourself safe and make sure to treat yourself for all the joy you bring your viewers with your writing<3. Also, this is my first request:D

(Thinking about characters like: Venti, Diluc, Zhongli, Traveller, and whoever else you want to write/if you don't write for some of these characters, that's fine!)

౨ৎ them w a tall partner...

send a request!┊masterlist┊taglist applications

FEAT... aether, venti, itto, alhaitham, diluc

A/N... hiiii anon tysm for the request!! i loveee this idea it's so cute so i'm more than happy to write it ^^ unfortunatelyyy i wasn't able to write anything for zhongli as i js couldn't think of anything, i hope that's ok!!! also thank youuuu! i'm so glad you like my stuff, nd please make sure you take care of yourself too!! hope to see you again soon, enjoy ♡ alsooo i tried out some new colouring!! i hope you guys like ittt i think it's prettyy :3 oh and disclaimer these heights may not be accurate!!! i got them from this website but it seems pretty reliable to meee

✧ aether. - 5'4"

the traveller, the honorary knight, the swordfish II captain, the first sage of buer: just a few of the multitude of titles aether has earned from the many battles he's fought for teyvat. he's always fighting for people, protecting people, blindly jumping head-first into danger; he needs someone to protect him for a change, and that someone is you.

he always feels safe with you, and the way you stand behind him when he's chatting with friends or purchasing items from vendors makes him feel untouchable; evident by the way he practically melts under your touch.

one of the first things people tend to notice about you is your height, and although it doesn't really bother you, aether thinks it's ignorant and unfair. don't get him wrong, he loves your height, but there's so much more to you than that. he wishes people would notice your style, or your personality, maybe even your smile, anything. as long as nobody tries to steal you from him, he doesn't mind.

he'll often find himself being the little spoon while cuddling, and honestly, it's the thing he most looks forward to after a long day of completing commissions and collecting resources.

he loves how tall you are, how gentle you are, how loving you are; he loves all of you, and he hopes you love all of him too...

✧ venti. - 5'5"

venti loves the way you tower over him, and finds your subsequent protectiveness rather endearing.

your height sometimes intimidates people, and discourages them from wanting to strike up conversation with you. venti, however, was never bothered by it, and had no problem shamelessly flirting with you the very second you entered angel's share that fateful day.

the bard struggles to understand how people could possibly be afraid of you. of course, he knows how strong you are, and is aware of the lengths you'd go to in order to protect him, but nothing about your personality was something to be scared of.

the more he got to know you, the quicker he came to the realisation that you're really just a big softie - a gentle giant, if you will.

your impressive stature also means that you can carry him around. venti loves nothing more than being in your arms, face nuzzled into your chest as you take him to bed after a long day, or resting his head on your shoulder and forcing you to lift him up when he 'falls asleep''.

all in all, your boyfriend views your height is anything but negative. he loves you the way you are, and, as cliché as it sounds, wouldn't change anything about you for the world...

✧ itto. - 6'1"

no matter how tall you are, itto will give you piggyback rides. and you will enjoy them. to put it quite frankly, you don't have a choice.

even though you're taller than him, he still loves to have you in his arms, whether that means cuddling, carrying you around, or simply just hugging you from behind. something about having you in his hold makes him feel stronger and more confident than he ever has before.

the members of the arataki gang were shocked when they first met you, genta mistaking you for itto when he caught sight of your silhouette. nonetheless, they have all grown to be quite fond of you, and often leave small gifts on your doorstep which never fail to bring a smile to your face.

your height was something you sometimes felt ashamed of, however, itto always makes sure you feel happy within yourself, and will do everything in his power to wash the insecurities away; showering you in kisses and telling you just how perfect you are...

✧ alhaitham. - 5'10"

at first, alhaitham was slightly embarrassed that you were taller than him, not because of your appearance, but because of how he'd been relentlessly teasing his roommate for his height while having a partner who stands at an impressive 6'5"...

nevertheless, the scribe truly admires everything about you, and will often just stare. even though he wants nothing more than to have you in his arms, he's more than happy to admire you from afar, to watch you go about your day or make idle chit-chat with the local vendors so that he can just take you in; "archons, they're beautiful".

even though he stands shorter than you, he is extremely protective over you; intertwining his fingers with yours whenever he has the chance, and staring down anyone who 'looks at you wrong'. you often tease him for this, poking fun at his pout before kissing it away with a smile, only for it to return as you pinch his rosy cheeks.

the love alhaitham has for you is immeasurable, and the (not so) little things like your height only make him fall harder for you. his heart skips a beat when he feels your arms snake around his waist from behind, being pulled into your chest as you rest your head on his shoulder. yes, you could still do this even if you were shorter, but for him, nothing compares to being able to sink into you; he rather enjoys feeling smaller when he's with you...

✧ diluc. - 6'1"

you and your husband, diluc, stand at a similar height, him just slightly taller than you at 6'1". people often stare when you walk into a room hand-in-hand, but the darknight hero couldn't be more proud.

he never misses the chance to show you off, introducing you to everyone he knows while making sure to subtly flash the wedding ring he oh so gently slides onto your finger every morning. however, as soon as someone dares to make a rude remark about you, your husband has no problem stepping in front of you and handling the situation himself. yes, you're capable of looking out for yourself, but the redhead always feels the need to protect the ones he loves most.

the two of you are a package deal, and are rarely seen apart from each other unless absolutely necessary. diluc can't stand being away from you, and often finds his mind flooded with thoughts of you when he should be focused on the financial papers spread out on the desk before him.

being the taller ragnvindr, diluc often takes it upon himself to hand you items from higher up shelves, knowing full well you can reach them just fine by yourself. "given my stature, wouldn't it be rude not to hand my partner the things they couldn't possibly reach?", he always asks, pressing a loving kiss on your forehead and handing you whatever you were reaching for. such a tease...

thanks for reading ♡ want to read more? my requests are OPEN, so please feel free to let me know what you’d like me to write next!

TAGLIST... @maopll . @nyxmainex apply here

© FICTOCULUS 2024; please do not steal, translate, or repost my works as your own

[attourney-at-lycan]

LEVIN TIME

Ok

He's taller then the average human due to his elf heritage. Like. Short by Elven standards tall by human standards

He has healing magics but they can only be used under Extreme stress. And they don't work on himself only others.

On the note of his magics, due to his elven heritage along with his magics he can kinda tell when people are dying. He can feel people life forces fading.

THIS FUCKED HIM UP WHEN DANTE ALMOST DIED IN THE BEGINNING OF SEASON TWO. TO LEVIN IT WAS IF LITERALLY FEELING THE CLOSEST THING TO A DAD HE'D EVER HAD DIE. AFTER DANTE WAS HEALED HE HAD A COMPLETE BEARKDOWN. And the following month or so he would keep checking or Dante to make sure he was okay

Due to the time spent in the Yggdrasil Forest he is actually quite good at meditating and keeping his emotions seem calm outwardly even if he's a complete mess on the inside

OH, and back on the topic of his magics and his heritage. His magics could come to him more naturally if he were to have Irene's relic. Not as easily as Irene's magic comes to Aphmau. But rather it would act as a sort of Bridge between the magics he already had along with boosting those powers.

He barely remembers Aphmau. He has like no memories of her from when she was young and everything he knows is things he's been told by others

Codependent with Malachi for a long time

Often looks to KC as like,,, a step-mom of sorts. Dmitri and Nekoette are like his siblings in his mind and he treats them as such

When he isnt busy he offers to babysit.

Suprisingly good with kids.

Smooth Talker, not in the flirty way but more in the "I can talk my way out of danger if I have to"

The Densest fucker you'll ever meet. Someone could straight up tell them they love him and He'd go "Youre such a great friend!! I love you too!! ^-^"

Has like, no concept of romantic love. Greyromantic along with being Dense (same bestie 😔)

Had a relationship with that one "close friend" in the Yggdrasil Forest. They broke up due to Levin having to move back to Phoenix Drop

Dante taught both him and Malachi how to fight.

He doesn't like fighting but is good at it. He prefers the same blades Dante does. Malachi prefers a short sword and Dagger duo.

Has a high immunity to a lot, but not all, poisons. (Due to the elf thing, which is a personal hc oc)

Very, and scarily, good at getting information when he needs or wants to. A simple conversation, or an interrogation, can be used to his benefit if he wishes. He knows what buttons to press and hes Extremely good at reading people

Has Long hair due to elven custom. Keeps it long as a way of staying connected to his culture. Often braids it, or keeps it in a ponytail

Theres more but I just got a fingy cramp I'll send some of the rest in a sec. I need to find an image. The Next ask will be more about his appearance.

cough Garroths Bastard cough

LETS GOOO *rubbing my grubby hands toether*

levin sounds like he can be an absolute shithead if he wants to. LIKE. he seems the type to be underestimated because he's extremely nice to other people but by the time they realize they're basically being duped by him, it's too late. they think he's dumb but he's surprisingly more cunning than he looks. his silver tongue is probably one of the reasons phoenix drop is still standing when you think about it. how many times did he smooth talk his way into relationships with other villages or get information or get resources? (ofc there's only so much he can do)

HIM BEING GRAYROMANTIC UR SO RIGHT. it's so much worse bc i feel like it's so easy to fall in love with him since he's probably so openly affectionate with others. how could u not fall in love with him? he's an accidental heartbreaker im telling you!!!!!!!!!!!!

THE DNATE FATHER FIGURE OUUU- i feel like even before dante almost died, he was a bit fussy at times because, despite not remembering aphmau well, he still has that fear of someone close to him leaving, so when that happens it just gets really worse.

now i just want a scene of levin visiting dante the tenth time that month just "heyo, just here to check if ur okay!" dante's just, he knows (bc why wouldn't he?) and goes "im fine levin. you don't have to worry about me anymore" and HHHHHHHH

[lazypeachsoul]

you promise?

Request: by anon “Could you write an Osferth drabble. About anything you'd like. Please and thank you.”

Warnings: Nothing.

Word count: 1,8k

A/N: Here's the first fic for The Last Kingdom Week! Hope you enjoy some sweet baby monk. I might have gone overboard with this story, but I can't help it when it comes to osferth. Enjoy 🌼

The streets of Cookham were bustling with workers returning home from the fields that surrounded the village. Thanks to Lord Uhtred and his fame the once forgotten town had become a stop for every merchant that traveled through Wessex and the workload had increased. And you were no different than any of those other people.

The sun was now setting and it was your time to return the children you minded back to their homes, where their overworked parents would take care of them. It wasn’t normal for common workers to have child minders, normally leaving the kids at home with their mothers, but Cookham was busier than ever and women were working the fields too. And that left you to take care of the little rascals that lived in town.

You had tried to work as a seamstress and at the alehouse, but nothing seemed to really suit you. Well, at least until you started taking care of the kids. You didn’t get much pay since the people you worked for were underpaid to begin with, but the little you got you saved for a new fabric, or a sweet treat or for those times you would meet Osferth at the alehouse and you wanted to prove him that you were a hard working woman.

And how you loved those times. Osferth seemed to always be busy either training or meeting with the rest of what had now been named the “Cookham squad”. Lord Uhtred and his loyal warriors were the talk of all Wessex and a great source of gossip for the entire town. Lord Uhtred and his beautiful wife Gisela took care of the people that lived inside their walls. Then there was Finan, the loud irishman who seemed to bring joy and fun to any occasion celebrated, always close to him was Sihtric, the mysterious dane who didn’t speak much but said a lot with just a look. And the last one was the monk who is not really a monk Osferth.

When you first met him you were trying to learn to become a barmaid and accidentally tripped on his foot, sending a pitcher of ale flying everywhere and leaving you both embarrassed and asking for mutual forgiveness. Since that moment, you had started to meet together at the alehouse every few days, providing you with a nice friendship but keeping all the rules a respectable young unmarried woman should follow.

And that’s exactly where you were headed after dropping your last child at home with his grateful mother. Your heart skipped a beat when you saw the familiar blonde mop of hair sitting on one of the outside benches, and you had to admit to yourself that maybe it was more than just casual meetings at the alehouse. At that moment Osferth turned around and waved in your direction and with a small wave you made your way to the bench, sitting in front of him.

“I thought you didn’t see me, you looked distracted.” Osferth's sweet voice spoke and you had to admit he was right, you almost missed it because of your constant daydreaming about the man. But you couldn’t admit that.

“Excuse me, the children were wild and I’m extremely tired. Must be because of the nice weather.”

“Maybe we should meet another day, I wouldn’t want to tire you more Lady-” “No!”

You hadn’t been able to stop the agitated answer from coming out when you heard his dismissal. You were tired but never too tired to stop meeting Osferth. You could feel your cheeks hot with embarrassment and you tried to clear your throat to diffuse the tension.

“I mean, I would rather stay here with you and relax with a friend.”

Osferth’s face seemed to harden at your words but as soon as the barmaid brought you two cups of ale everything seemed to go back to normal, except for a small curious voice at the back of your head wanting to know why the expression changed.

“A friend. Of course. I enjoy the time we spend together too.” He nodded his head, his blonde hair falling in front of his eyes before taking a sip from his cup. “The weather is really nice so I wouldn’t blame the children. Lord Uhtred told us that the weather would turn nicer before we leave.”

You felt the ale you had been drinking get stuck in your throat but you tried to conceal it with a soft cough so as to not cause a scene in the packed alehouse. Leave? They were leaving?

“Are you leaving soon? You didn’t say anything before.”

“Lord Uhtred just confirmed it this morning. The King has requested the Lord’s help in some negotiations with the danes. He thought it best for us to accompany him since his history with the king is not the most amicable.”

You nodded along as he spoke but your brain was overworking itself trying to comprehend the situation. They were leaving to assist the King of Wessex and they would leave Cookham unattended for God knows how long. Of course the real reason you were worried was not the village, Lady Gisela could take care of it and more without a problem, you were worried about Osferth and you. Was there even an 'Osferth and you' to worry about?

“That’s...great that the King and our Lord are speaking again. Maybe it might help us get resources from the crown.” You tried to excuse your previous silence but it must have been obvious you were deep in thought because Osferth looked at you with a curious face. “And when are you leaving?”

“We’re expected to depart tomorrow morning. Apparently those matters are very important and require us to be there as soon as possible.” He shrugged in a move to downplay the entire situation.

Silence was the only thing that could be heard from your side of the bench, a deep contrast from the rest of the groups happily chatting and drinking. The table was silent but your mind was not, still overthinking every word your companion had said. You were overthinking so much that you almost missed his quiet voice.

“I am going to miss you.” Osferth spoke and as soon as you looked at him again he seemed to flush. “And our conversations. Or friendly conversations as...friends.”

You wanted to laugh at the poor man in front of you. In the many months you had known Osferth you had never seen him that flustered in his life, cheeks and ears bright red and a stuttering mess.

“I’m going to miss you too Osferth. And our friendly meetings.” You placed your hand next to his on the table next to his, not wanting to overstep and make the poor man more uncomfortable.

He moved his hand carefully almost imperceptibly until his fingers touched yours and a warm feeling ran down your entire arm from your hand. He seemed to be the one deep in thought at the moment and you almost wished you could pick at his brain to see what was going on. Is that how he felt every time you zoned out?

“Maybe you could remember me-” “Of course I’m going to remember you Osferth, don’t be silly. You are not going to war, only a mission for the king.”

A nervous chuckle was the only thing he could let out now and his reactions were starting to worry you a bit. If it was only a small trip he shouldn't have been that nervous.

“Let me finish. Maybe if I gave you something that you could remember me by, it would be easier.”

“You don’t have to do that, Osferth. I will remember you anyways.” You tried to reason with him but you couldn’t stop him from moving to look for something in the pockets of his robes.

After a bit of fussing with the robes he placed his closed fist on top of your hand, opening it just enough for something small and metallic to fall into your hand. Moving your hand closer you found a small fragile chain that seemed to have been at least as old as you.

“It’s not much, just a scrap of metal if you try to sell it. But it was my mother’s, the only thing I have from her. I hid it from the monks when I was growing up so they wouldn’t take it away. Carried it into battle with me every time I’ve fought too.”

Every single word of the explanation seemed to make your throat close a bit more and your eyes glossier. You knew Osferth had no real memories with his mother and you could imagine how important that bracelet must have been for him.

“I can’t accept it, it’s so important to you. Why would you give it to me?” You debated with your head shaking and trying to push the chain into his hand again. “Don’t be silly, Osferth. It’s your mother’s bracelet.”

“You must keep it. Please.” He kept his fist tightly closed to avoid you giving him back the piece of jewelry. “I want you to have it.”

“But I don’t have anything to give you in return.”

You kept trying to pry his fist open, all in vain because he wouldn’t even budge. You wanted to get up and hug him for such a meaningful gesture and hit him at the same time for wanting to part with such a meaningful piece.

“You have.” He spoke, grabbing your hand and halting your movements. “Maybe you can give me your promise.”

You looked at him curiously at what his proposal might be. Maybe he just wanted you to take care of Lady Gisela, you knew how he saw her as the mother he never had. Or maybe he wanted you to care for Lord Uhtred’s children.

“You can promise me that once I’m back from Wincester you will allow me to properly court you.” He explained and you felt your heart stop. “I-If you want, of course.”

Courting Osferth was not something you had thought about, mainly because you had nothing to offer. Your parents didn’t have fields or many resources they could offer a prospective husband. And Osferth was a warrior, so you thought settling down seemed to be out of the picture for him. But you had to admit the idea made your stomach turn in the best way possible.

You realized you had been thinking for a long time and still hadn’t given an answer when you felt him squeezing your hand. Could you promise him something like that?

“I promise.” Of course you could, the idea of a lifetime with Osferth only made you more excited about life. “Only you have to promise me to come back soon.”

He nodded with enthusiasm, moving his hands to take the small chain from your delicate hand and clasp it around your wrist. This mission hadn’t even started and you already wanted it to end.

Taglist: @webreathfandoms @thebohemianpenguin @emilyhufflepufftlk @solinarimoon

[n1kolaiz]

"You want to know what death is? I'll tell you. Death is the loss of life. Despite everything doctors like me attempt... a patient's life can still fall through our fingers. You think death lies in the apex of science? Anyone with such little regard for life will die by my hand."

Character Analysis: Yosano Akiko

Age: 25 || Ability: Thou Shalt Not Die

BSD CHAPTER CHAPTER 65-66 SPOILERS

table of contents:

1. Author counterpart.

2. Yosano's history.

3. 'Angel of Death' defined.

4. Yosano and Atsushi.

YOSANO BRAINROT!*(#&!*@#($

1. Author counterpart.

Having been given the “Sho Ho” at birth, Yosano Akiko’s counterpart—the real-life author—was known for her zealous take on both feminism and pacifism.

Side note: Once again, to avoid confusion, I will use the name Sho Ho in reference to the real-life author, and Yosano in reference to the BSD character.

Sho Ho's writings were pretty much out-of-the-ordinary in her time, and despite being suppressed by the social norms of gender hierarchy, she sought to reform society’s view on the cultural perspectives of women and their sexuality (She expressed her love for a woman in one of her poems, but many still argued on whether she identified herself as queer or not.)

"Thou Shalt Not Die," Yosano's ability, is actually named after one of Sho Ho's most famous, controversial poems. She wrote it for her brother, who was a soldier in the war between Russia and Japan (1904-1905). In her poem, she expressed her general distaste for war and how her brother was a part of it.

O my young brother, I cry for you Don't you understand you must not die! You who were born the last of all Command a special store of parents' love

Would parents place a blade in children's hands

Teaching them to murder other men Teaching them to kill and then to die? Have you so learned and grown to twenty-four?

- excerpt from Sho Ho's poem, "Kimi Shinitamou Koto Nakare"

Her words were blunt enough to inflict guilt on her brother's conscience, as she wasn't afraid to express her disapproval over how her brother took part in the typical violent bloodshed and manslaughter of war. Such opinions perturbed the authorities, and her work was eventually banned from the public for a period of time. Later on, it was used as an anti-war statement.

2. Yosano's history.

Now, as for the character in BSD, Yosano is seen to be generally strong-willed, and later on, we see that she is terrifyingly compassionately ambitious in the way she treats her patients. She treasured life itself, and hated the thought of losing a patient.

Yosano had developed her relations with Mori Ougai back in the Great War, when she was just 11 years old. Her ability was a great benefactor in saving lives. Realistically speaking, she was used for her ability to heal injured soldiers and diminish the effect of any casualty acquired.

Initially, she wasn't aware of this, until one of her close friends pointed it out by subtly accusing Mori of manipulating her to participate in the War under the close-to false pretence of 'saving lives.'

As much as her ability did save lives, it also forced soldiers to return to the frontlines and suffer injuries over and over again. The soldiers were never given the opportunity to return to their families because of her ability. This obliged them to carry on in the war without any excuse, inserting them into a vicious cycle they had no escape out of.

Metaphorically speaking, Yosano's hatred for Mori sort of mirrors Sho Ho's disdain for war and fighting, don't you think? The way Kafka materialised Yosano's past was quite interesting because he used chapters 65 and 66 to explain Yosano's dislike for Mori, reflecting how Sho Ho used her poem to explain why she condemned the idea of war and how her brother was part of it.

Before the effect of her ability was fully understood, however, every soldier praised and thanked her for what an angel she was. One of the soldiers she had befriended and gotten close to even kept a tally of the number of times she had saved him. He was the one who gifted her the butterfly hairpin she wore all the time.

The weight of the truth that her ability was a curse rather than a blessing fully dawned on her when her soldier friend ultimately committed suicide, because the fact of being indefinitely trapped in the throes of war agonised him until his spirit gave out. This drove Yosano to loathe her ability, or rather, how it was used.

In the time she participated in the War, Yosano was given the alias 'angel of death' due to the control she retained over the battlefield, but I thought that perhaps Kafka had a reason behind giving her this title, so I did my research.

3. 'Angel of Death' defined.

Side note: I wouldn't want to disrespect any culture or religion, so if my citations are inaccurate and/or disrespectful, do feel free to correct me/let me know! I did research out of pure curiosity, and I don't intend to twist the significance of any of the interpretations.

I had to grow up learning about the basics of religious stuff, so it's kind of nice to study something out of the box, and very much against my father's rigid belief system :D

ARCHANGEL ARIEL

(archangel: an angel of higher rank)

I came across the few characteristics of angels/goddesses and their roles, and the one which really caught my attention was the female archangel, Ariel, the angel of nature.

[ source ]

In Hebrew, the name Ariel means 'altar' or 'lioness of God,' and her role is to heal. In addition to that, she is also recognised as a helper to another one of the seven main archangels, Raphael, whose role is to provide physical and emotional healing, too.

She is the protecter of the environment and the animals therein, and is bestowed with the duty to oversee the order of heavenly bodies as well as earth's natural resources. She assures the sustenance of food, water, shelter, and supplies of human beings, much like how a nurse is to a patient I suppose.

In relation to Yosano, I think this part is pretty self-explanatory, or perhaps this is blown out of proportion HA, so take this as a suggestion rather than a fact, because I'd like to believe that Kafka had a reason for giving Yosano a title as such.

In the past, I've come across the angel of death only to perceive it as a female grim reaper of some sort, so it was pretty cool to find that the word 'angel' and 'death' made up a title of a someone like Ariel, one of the purest forms of humility and compassion.

GREEK GODDESS PANAKEIA

For my beloved (wannabe/or not) students of Greek mythology (much like myself, let's make a cult!), you've probably heard of Panakeia, the goddess of healing. Medicine finds most of its vital significance in Greek history, and in its mythology, Panakeia is actually known for her ability to heal any kind of sickness.

[ source ]

Her name means 'panacea,' which is actually defined as a remedy for all diseases. Terminal diseases and injuries lead to death, right? This would bring us back to Yosano's ability to nullify any injury's effects on a person, keeping them from death itself.

Now, we know that in order for Yosano's ability to work, her patient, or victim, has to be in a near-death condition in order for her treatment to take effect. This can't exactly fit into the description of resurrection, but it can be described as some sort of rebirth.

GREEK GODDESS PERSEPHONE

So another goddess which reminds me of Sho Ho/Yosano, is Persephone, the goddess of spring and rebirth. Before Hades, the god of the underworld, fell in love with Persephone to take her to live with him, Persephone lived a happy life.

Hades, with his nature of darkness and the like, was captivated by how pure Persephone was, and stole her away from her former life to live in an environment which differed sharply from her natural aura of purity.

[ source ]

Remember when Yosano's friend left a note behind before he killed himself? The note said nothing except for, "You are too righteous." Take that as you will, but figuratively speaking, you could say Mori takes the role of Hades in the story, while Yosano can be portrayed as Persephone.

Sho Ho can also be a parallel of Persephone, in that she had to adapt to the realities of war and disharmony, while Persephone had to adapt to the raw darkness of the underworld with Hades.

Sho Ho stood against society's norms and decided to reform it, making her one of the most well-known feministic pacifist in history, while Persephone managed to escape from the underworld to return to her former position, earning the title the 'Bringer of Life,' or the 'Destroyer of Death.'

Furthermore, the way Sho Ho's anti-war poem took its effect later on, reflects the way Persephone restored balance in the world after returning from the underworld.

4. Yosano and Atsushi.

chapter 66; Yosano: "It's my fault that those close to me died... Is there some place where it's okay for me to live?"

chapter 8; Atsushi: "If I have any chance of saving them all, of returning them home safely, would that mean it's okay for me to keep on living?"

I couldn't help but think of Dazai and Atsushi back when I was reading through these panels. Ranpo (my beloved), along with Fukuzawa, accepted Yosano as she was, despite how her ability was a cause of despair and misfortune.

Ranpo looked past her mistakes and the entirety of how dark her past was to welcome her into the Armed Detective Agency. Dazai, on the other hand, knew who Atsushi was and what his ability had made him do before anyone else, and still decided to provide a safe place for Atsushi to find his sense of belonging, journeying with him as he learned to use his ability properly.

For more info about Dazai and Atsushi's dynamic, you can check out the analysis I did for Dazai :D

Atsushi desired to save people to prove his right to live, while Yosano made her wish to achieve the recovery of all her patients the reason for her existence.

Others would prefer to accuse both Yosano and Atsushi of having a saviour complex, but the reason why they pursued to save people with utmost dedication, stems from the nature of what their past was like. You know the saying 'from broken to beautiful?' Yeah, it's something like that.

The way their pasts were written out gave them a desire to change, which was, I daresay, initiated by the people who took them in: Ranpo and Dazai. Their abilities were demonised because of how they were used, but once they broke from their abilities' effect over their lives, they honed their skills to control them for the right cause instead.

In a less cynical point of view, I believe both Yosano and Atsushi stood for what was right, and wanted nothing but to achieve peace and harmony in whatever way they could, even if it meant risking their own lives to save others.

So yeah, that's it for my rants today. Thank you for reading, and if you have anything to add, go ahead! I'm open to discussions ;)

[kojinnie]

Why you should NOT date AOT boys... (2)

I advised you but you still didn’t listen just because your fave was not on the first part. So hereby I present to you, reasons why these boys will only give you headache, part two!

Enjoy my lovelies, and stop hurting yourself with these men!

Regards,

Your ever-so-concerned friend, Kojin.

erwin - zeke - jean - connie

part one here (levi - eren - armin - reiner)

— ERWIN

This is not gonna be easy. You’re dealing with a man who has received multitude of achievements and recognition for being who he is and for doing things his own way, so obviously he is at that point in his life where he’s very comfortable in being who he already is. It’s all for a reason though, for Erwin oozes a certain kind of authority that is justified by his sharp thinking and years of experience. He is a self-made man and his success was the work of nobody but his own doing. So obviously, he has this uncanny self-assurance that is not easy to be dissuaded. He is ”The Man” character you hear about in pop songs and movies, and alike to dating Levi, the idea of being with Erwin gives you a sense of pride, you’ll be the most flattered whenever you hear people look at you with certain kind of acknowledgment, “Oh, that’s the one Erwin chooses.”

If you have problem with your self-esteem or you constantly doubt yourself, being with Erwin –especially when you have an established relationship— can really encourage you, to make you realize that there is a great thing in you, that even someone with the caliber of Erwin Smith can see. However, this may also lead to a bad thing because little by little, whether you realize it or not, your identity will be blurred with the constant presence of Erwin around you, simply because he has that magnificence in him that lures the limelight in, and your name will only be left as a prop to better dress the mannequin. This is a man who hardly ever hears “no” in his life, although he will never be violent or do things against your wish, it feels natural for him to always have a say in whatever you do. From the way you dress, your career trajectory, to decision for everyday chore. You would often feel as if you have no room to grow on your own because everything is decided by Erwin, where your opinion is dismissed. The most infuriating aspect of Erwin is that he will do all the aforementioned in such a sweet way. Caressing your cheek, patting your head softly before condescendingly says things like: “Honey, if you’ve seen what I’ve seen, you’ll understand. So for now, let’s just go with [insert his decision], okay?”

The ideal relationship for you and Erwin is if you have been with him since the get-go, before he made a name for himself. The good thing about Erwin is that he values nurture and he will show the utmost gratitude to whomever stood by him since day one. He will flaunt you, mention your name in every awarding speech, praise your perseverance for staying with him while actively making your own mark in your job. Basically, to survive a healthy and thriving romantic relationship with Erwin, you gotta see the quality in him before all the flashy titles, and you gotta be at similar degree of excellence with him. You gotta have his respect, you gotta make a name for yourself, only then he will listen to you and treat you as equal. So if you are still unsure about yourself, and you need constant reassurance about your role in this world, don’t go for Erwin, it will only exacerbate your self-doubt.

— ZEKE

Good god, this man. Where do I start? Okay, so you’re dealing with someone similar to Erwin, who enjoys a point in his life where his professional excellence has been widely established, he even has attained an almost mythical status. Remember how much the Warriors look up to him, saying things like “The enemies are no match to Zeke”? That’s basically his everyday life, and he has gotten so used to hearing that drilled into his ears for years.

For sure, he has a solid self-assurance; he knows what he wants, he knows how to get it, and anyone’s opinion holds very little value to him. But unlike Erwin, Zeke has grown sick of the compliment and has come to think that people are just licking his ass. This is because he made his success with little to no help from anyone else, and he has seen how differently people treated him back when he was just a nameless guy, compared to now, where he has made a name for himself. This experience, created a contradiction in his personality: One, the confident and self-assured Zeke, where he realizes that he’s smarter than most people, and; Two, the self-doubting Zeke, thinking that he is deemed as smart just because everyone comparable to him is stupid. He fears that it’s only until he meets someone smarter than him, before people finally realize that he’s a fraud. He’s the type to spew seemingly condescending remarks in a very casual way, like whenever someone comes to him in an awe and asks how does he do the things he does, he will just shrug it off and say, “I don’t know why everyone’s making a big deal out of that. It’s so easy.” When actually it’s just him, displaying his incomprehension on what make people think that he’s amazing when he hardly sees it.

Zeke leads a life where he thinks he can do whatever he wants, since he does not have a care in the world for anyone’s opinion and validation. This is because Zeke thinks either they are unworthy of his attention, or any person who has ever shown any interest towards him was only after something for themselves. In his early life, Zeke gets used a lot by people he trusted, and so this resulted in him not believing that someone would come to him and truly care for him with no pretense or hidden motives. The idea that he can be loved unconditionally is incredibly foreign, if not impossible to him. And this is the truth about him that he does not like to admit.

This is a person whose motto is to “enjoy things” because the enjoyment of things keeps him distracted from the disappointment he holds against people. So naturally, he does not like sentimental attachment, let alone committed relationship. What Zeke needs is just someone that he can ring up casually (and only occasionally because he’s always kept up with a lot of his professional endeavors), and spoil him with nearly childish affection. He likes to come home to someone who does not see him as this heroic figure that everybody sees, and rather just a careless kid who collects baseball cards with no active parent figure. He likes the cuddles, the kisses, the strokes, the lazy mornings where you pamper him like a demanding baby, because he never gets to experience such candid loving from his childhood, for he had to fend for himself since very young.

He likes to call you up late at night, with a sulk in his voice, “Baby can I come over…?” for you to act annoyed and reluctantly say yes to him. He likes that. He’s corny like that. But once he’s out the door, don’t expect him to text his whereabout or make your name known to the world, because he cannot afford such dire attachment. He’s as free as the bird, and after all, caging him into a committal relationship only justifies his belief that someone would only love him because they’re after something.

— JEAN

Jean is tenacity personified. He wasn’t born talented or lucky enough to have special heritage runs in his blood, he is flawed with a lot of shortcomings, but what makes him stands out is his capability to persevere in the eyes of adversity. To keep on trying although he does not pass the initial mark, and that’s exactly what makes him special. In dating Jean, you will never run out of things to do or talk about, because Jean will always try to make the best out of every situation with his resourcefulness. It’s very nourishing to see someone make such a big effort for you, and if you lack assurance that someone would go extra miles for you, then seeing Jean breaks his back trying to catch your smile is such a sight that you will cherish for a long time.

However, deep inside, Jean is a very exhausted man. He often feels like he is at the end of his wit trying to make everything works. He is deeply wearied by having to be at his top game every minute to compete, and fears that if his grasp slips even just a little, he will quickly fall behind everyone. This will result in Jean being torn apart between work and you, for he always has the urge to put tenfold effort to match others’ casual effort. So expect a lot of calls unanswered and rescheduled date nights during the weekdays. Although he feels extremely regretful with this condition, he also believes that there is nothing he can do, for he thinks he was born unfortunate and this is the effort he has to make due in order to catch up with the others.

All this unhealthy sense of urgency from always having the need to compete often sends Jean into a state of paranoia. He fears that people may team up against him, or that he’s being left out. It’s really frustrating to see Jean having the need to reply to a stupid meme Eren sends at 4 AM while getting high, just because Jean fears that if he does not reply immediately, he will wake up the next day with people already talking about the things he missed. He is always on guard, and as much as he tries to give in to his relationship with you, sometimes you would feel like his mind is not at home. His mind is out there wondering whether he will ever make a name for himself without being compared to people who exerts considerably less effort than him.

Being with Jean, you gotta understand where his fear lies, and you gotta be very calm when dealing with all of his paranoid urges. Whenever he’s not home because he overworks himself, don’t bombard him with calls and text messages, just give him time and welcome him home with warmth and a sense of ease. Be the person where he puts his hair down after a whole day of gruesome work. Jean needs a lot of validation especially from the person he loves (and he feels guilty towards for seemingly neglecting you over work), all he needs to hear is just “You did well today”, and he would be more than thankful. Make time as well to give him little surprise, to make him realizes that you are the one place he does not need to compete with anyone else for you are his home. When it comes to Jean, it’s about give and take, he doesn’t do well with a diva who demands attention 24/7, nor he does well with someone who is seemingly way over his league, for it will worsen his insecurity.

Point is, Jean is an amazing man, guys, I couldn’t really point out why you should NOT date him, because in fact, you SHOULD date him. Being with him is a learning curve, not only for you but also for him, to understand that in a relationship not only that you gotta love, but also to compromise.

— CONNIE

Connie, oh Connie. We all love Connie, he’s the guy who would complete a picture, a party is a bore without the sight of him, we all just love us some Connie, but often to his expense. People love Connie because he is outgoing, humble, and has this salt-of-the-earth persona, but more often than not, people also use him as a comedic relief, and although at first, he enjoys it because he would like the idea that people look forward to him, sometimes it also takes a toll in him, it makes Connie wonder whether he will ever be fit for bigger purpose other than someone else’s humor.

Connie thrives in being helpful to other people, he believes being of service is his greatest merit and thus he never complains whenever someone asks him to do something, nor does he ever dislike doing things for other people. But often he wonders even after all the great services he has done to other people, why haven’t people seen him as more than just a comedic relief? Why can’t he be the hero of a story, instead of just the people’s favorite side character? This thought lingers a lot in his mind, and if he does not find a way to let it out somehow, this may grow into a bitterness for he feels used.

Make no mistake though, Connie does not yearn to have the limelight on his own, he is content with his position, all he needs is a bit of credit and affirmation that he is as important his other peers. That he is not overlooked nor that he is expendable. Without this, Connie might grow to become resentful of people as he thinks they will only use him to their advantages. He will get easily jealous or at high alert, just because you passingly joke about Jean being handsome with his new haircut. He may go into that rabbit hole of anxiety, waiting until the day when you finally leave him for being mediocre and opt for his more attractive friend.

When this side of him comes out, initially he will be overtly self-deprecating. Masking it as a joke just to fish a reaction from you. If you laugh along, not knowing that it was a test, he will be sure that you are just using him and it won’t be long until you depart for someone with more load than him. Once he sets his mind, he can be quite vindictive to you, casually assuming you of the worst while trying to pass it as a joke. When this side of Connie comes out, the last thing you should do is to get riled up. Connie is not being rational, so you gotta be the adult here unfortunately. You gotta shower him with a lot of affection in the form of services like he’s always do to people around him, and slowly work your way to the topic you are meaning to ask. Connie might be alluding the question for a while, until he finally comes clean that he was jealous and did not know how to properly address this feeling.

Being with Connie comes with the responsibility of making a home for him where finally he gets to be the center attention. He is not a narcissist, so he does not want everything to center around him. All he wanna be is to be seen, in which every effort he has made to the people he loves are being outwardly recognized and thanked for. Little things would really make Connie happy, like posting a lot of photos with him on your social media, or arranging surprise birthday party with his co-workers where he can finally experience what it feels like to be the likes of Eren or Jean.

Thank you guys for all the likes, reblogs and comments - YOU ALL MAKE MY DAY. I was on the verge of being sure that no one would like things I write, but this.. This... (wails in telenovela style). I thank you and I wish you a great week ahead!

Guys for real if you still simp these guys even after this fair warning then I have no choice but to give you a personalized reason on why you should not date your fave AOT characters! 

> [CLOSED] Twisted Match-Up!  Send me three worst traits of yours + your AOT fave character and I’ll make you a short scenario on how shitty your relationship would be with them.  Fire away here!

[funkymbtifiction]

Should someone in an unhealthy home wait until they’re out of it to type theirself? I’ve been trying but I constantly second guess myself.

(For the record, I am not a therapist so I will leave the emotional healing to them. There are many online resources, websites, even YouTube videos that might help you if you seek them out, even if you can’t talk to an actual therapist for a few years. Please, please get professional help as soon as you can, once you are “away” from this person.)

I’m really sorry that you are stuck in an abusive situation. Being gas lighted and manipulated into hating yourself by someone who is supposed to love you is an incredibly painful experience. You should know that what this damaged person says about you, is not true. You are not worthless, you are not bad, you are not selfish, and you are not horrible. The things this person says about you reflects their inner turmoil, not the truth of who you are. You are a beautiful person with a soul, loved by your Creator, who has worth and is deserving of love.

Now, to answer your question:

Being emotionally berated and abused does not directly change how your brain processes information, but it can cause you to adopt coping mechanisms to avoid conflict, which are a product of how you think. But your inner needs remain the same.

For example: “Do I truly use Fe or am I so outwards focused as a point of survival?”

Let’s talk about Fe. First, if you did not use Fe naturally, would you have chosen to employ it as a coping function? Do you need to get your feelings out, or do you lock them up deep inside yourself? Let’s look at Harry Potter, as an example of an ISFP / Fi who endures abuse. His uncle and aunt and cousin treat him like dirt. They abuse and berate him. He shuts all of this pain up inside himself, and never tells anyone about it, the same as he holds his happiness inside himself. All of his feelings are internal, both when he is trying to avoid punishment (by “making no noise, and pretending I do not exist”) and when he is happy. To fully see whether you are employing superficial methods (“acting Fe”), you also need to ask, “Do I use Te?” Fi and Te go together. How does Harry use Te? He is blunt under stress. Lashes out with harsh words. He doesn’t really talk about things until he can’t stand them anymore, like when he remains totally silent for months, seething with anger over Hermione and Ron telling him NOTHING, and then when he sees them, he explodes.

An abused SFJ, someone like Smike in Nicholas Nickleby, just becomes super people-pleasing, sweet, and passive. He knows the only way he can survive is to please others, anticipate and meet their needs, but he comes alive when Nicholas takes him under his wing and cares about him; he opens up and talks about his feelings and wishes and dreams, the way he has always wanted and needed to. As a Fe, he has to talk about what’s going on in his emotions; it doesn’t help him to remain silent. Do you need to talk? Or do you keep it buried deep inside, where not even a trusted friend needs to hear about it?

To know whether your caring is others-focused, or centered in self-values, you need to think about whether you use Ti (understanding) or Te (action). For example, an abused FJ might wonder WHY this person is treating them this way, WHY this is happening to me, WHY I deserve this, because they will use Ti to try to make sense of their situation. An abused FP, by contrast, will probably just think, “I have to make it another day, another hour, another week, until I can get the hell out of this place and never see these people again.” They don’t care why, they just care about this happening to them and wanting it to stop.

Regarding the Enneagram, what do you WANT? Is it love? Being loved? To feel warmth, and support, and love, rather than harsh words, disapproval, and scorn? If so, and if how you try to earn love from others (and by that, I mean not the people who are mean to you, but the friends who taught you about love, support, and friendship) is through helping, being useful, and serving them, you are a 2.

If you just want to be calm, and ignore all the bad things in your life, to feel not-anxious and numb out harsh words, you might be a 9.

If you just want to feel safe, and are anxious about not provoking this person to abuse you by keeping your head down, while also feeling resentful of your need to suppress yourself, you might be a 6.

“Every time I almost settle on something, I think all this self-doubt and hate makes me question everything again. ‘If I am – then I must be the bad kind! Is this really even me?”

That makes me sad and angry on your behalf. Please, please do not automatically think, because of what you have gone through, that you “must be the bad kind” of your type. You may be as healthy a version of your type as you can be, under your circumstances. Do not assume the worst of yourself. Try to look at your good traits. Do not talk down to yourself, the way you would not tolerate it if someone talked down to someone you loved. Give love to yourself. Know that you are not broken beyond repair. You are gonna make it. You are gonna be free one day.

You have a type.

If it causes you frustration and anguish to try and find it, don’t.

If it makes you think worse of yourself, don’t.

Do I think you can find your type, despite what’s going on?

Maybe. The important thing is your mental health. Your type is less important than that, so focus on that first.

People take finding their type super seriously. That’s normal. I did, too. I went through bouts of self-hatred looking for it, but I was wrong. Self-typing should be a journey of self-discovery, where you look at yourself in wonder and marvel about how incredible it is that you can do this, or think this way.

If you choose to continue on this journey, read through the types slowly and let yourself process them. Think about what is your instinct, and how you channel your joy as well as your frustrations or pain. What is it you long to do, and who do you long to be, if you had absolute control over your life?

[consumeconstantly]

Lady Cross (first aid)

Summary: Somehow, Marinette always ends up biting off more than she can chew. It started off with a kid and a nasty gash on their knee. The sudden escalation to treating the new head of Gotham’s underworld? It can only be explained by the fact that she’s catnip for trouble. 

_____________________________________________

Marinette supposed she should have expected something like this to happen eventually.

Really, she patches up a few street kids and offers a meal and some resources and suddenly she's made a name for herself in the slums of Gotham. It’s not like she’s doing anything revolutionary. Well, okay, maybe she does cheat a little bit and uses her healing powers on a few of the tougher cases that really should have been out of her realm of expertise, but she’s living near the slums of Gotham for a reason. That reason being Marinette is just a little broke and can’t really afford to send everyone she comes across to the hospital, and the people who are injured certainly can’t. It’s not like she can leave them to die. That would be heartless.

When she stopped treating scrapes and cuts for kids on the streets as she came across them and instead found her apartment balcony frequented by families who needed her help, she couldn’t just say no. And so, more and more serious wounds started coming in. Kids brought their parents and friends. The parents and friends brought... well, if the police stopped by her apartment any time soon, she’s fairly certain they’d have a field day.

But again, it’s not like she’s going to turn these people into the police when they’ve come to her for help and have a small army of people who swear up and down that they’re good people and only doing what they have to do in order to get by.

Morality comes in such a variety of shades, who was she to judge? Ladybug and Marinette have both certainly had their fair share of mistakes that they’d gladly go back in time to rectify, and her hands weren’t clean of blood either. Sure, the Miraculous Cure may have brought people back, but their deaths were still on her. And Hawkmoth? Yeah, he’s alive now, but she hammered him into the pavement after dropping him from the top of the Eiffel tower, and she’s not going to pretend that she didn’t take a bit of morbid joy in that moment.

But back to the matter at hand. Which was, the notorious Red Hood—responsible for a coup amongst Gotham’s drug dealers and responsible for taking down a man whose morality truly vanished with the wind, Black Mask himself— was currently bleeding out on her second floor balcony, smoking a cigarette and lounging against the rail like he owned the place. 

“Lady Cross,” he inclined his head.

“Red Hood,” Marinette returned his greeting.

God, she really didn’t want to get involved with Red Hood. She wasn’t opposed to helping out street thugs and criminals, but Red Hood was a different league. He seemed to be a fairly decent guy, ensuring that kids weren’t dealt drugs and tried to keep them out of the circuit as much as possible. He took down plenty of worse criminals while he was at it. In fact, Marinette would go so far to say the Red Hood as one the good guys.

But the issue was, once she started treating people of a certain level, she’d be open game. And that didn’t seem very enticing to her. Not at all. Everyone knew that Red Hood had beef with the Bat Family for some reason or other, and also made enemies with almost every single rogue in Gotham, and a good number of enemies outside of it as well. Basically, Red Hood was a universal enemy of both the vigilantes and rogues. Someone she shouldn’t get involved with while she was trying to investigate the darkness surrounding Gotham whole running her online boutique and going to college at Gotham University.

Unfortunately, Tom and Sabine and her own stint as Ladybug taught her that she could never ignore someone in need. Marinette sighed and slid the mesh open, leading Red Hood to her living room. “Let’s get this over with, shall we?”

“Real nice place you got here,” he said.

With the mask covering the whole of his face, Marinette had no facial expressions to figure out whether he was poking fun at her current living situation or not. His voice sounded genuine, but vocal emotions were easy to fake.

The apartment she was living in was not on the nice side of town. There were three bullet holes in the wall between her living room and bedroom that she just didn’t have time to patch up, some pretty nasty looking stains on the ceiling near her kitchen, and a huge, spray painted red cross on one of her walls, which was where her street name derived from. Her floor and coffee table were also in states of disarray; she hadn’t gotten the opportunity to clean up after working on two commissions and the last guest whose wounds were heavy enough to warrant several rolls of gauze, which was now half stuffed into a garbage can sitting next to rolls of fabric. Perhaps not the neatest or most sanitary situation, but she didn’t have time to clean up before every single one of her unexpected guests came in.

Look, it wasn’t her fault that she didn’t have time to fix things up real nice and neat. She’d only been living in the apartment for a month and a half, and most times, she barely spent any time in it other than to sleep, cram last minute projects for her design course, or to help heal people. Her living situation wasn’t the biggest of worries.

“Sit,” Marinette gestured to the one of the few pieces of furniture that she specifically bought for the apartment. She didn’t mind the stained, half broken, and extremely creaky couch the last owners left behind for the first week, but after she started bringing back her first… visitors, it seemed important that the couch was comfortable, sturdy, and most crucially, cleanable.

Rummaging through a cabinet, she pulled out a tattered briefcase she thrifted a while back to keep all of her medical supplies in. Not the prettiest of things, but she tried not to keep expensive looking items in her apartment because she wasn’t a fan of getting mugged. The medicine she kept was already expensive enough, she didn’t need to attract everyone’s attention by owning one of those metal containers used in hospitals. Even though most of the people who dropped by her apartment were thankful to be treated, she had a few instances where people tried to steal things from her.

“What’s the damage, doc?” Red Hood’s voice came through rather tinny through his helmet. 

Marinette grimaced. The helmet must have awful air circulation. It looked like some sort of metal, and wet and metal never smelled good together. “I don’t know, you tell me.”

“Thought you were supposed to be some mystic healer who came from the far east.”

She paused and looked at the man, trying to judge whether he was racist as well as rude. “That’s rather insulting.” 

Red Hood shrugged. Marinette applauded the man for showing no outward sign of pain at that, even though there was a bullet embedded in his shoulder, and shrugging had to bite. “That’s what the word on the street is, though you sound French to me. Thought I’d come and check out who’s healing Gotham’s criminals. What’re you planning?”

“Sorry to foil your plans, but I’m not planning anything other than getting my college degree and not pissing off the people I live near.” She paused, flipping the lock on the briefcase upwards. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t use me as your go to healer from now on. You’re going to bring trouble my way.”

“Trouble? Me? Perish the thought.” His hand rested comfortably on the holister of his gun, ready to shoot if the girl pulled out a weapon from the briefcase. “We’ll talk about repeat appearances after I see how you do today.”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “Any wounds other than the obvious?”

“Just need the bullet out, and some stitches on the gash.” His shoulder and his abdomen, respectively. The gash looked nastier than the bullet; no shrapnel, but the cut on his stomach was jagged and wide. Not a normal, sharp blade. Probably needed a good cleaning.

She grabbed the tweezers, a sterilized needle, and medical thread. “That’s fine. Now are you going to undress, or am I going to have to cut your… costume… up?”

“Getting me naked already? We haven’t even had our first date yet.”

“Very funny, little Red Riding Hood. Now hop to it. I have class at 9 tomorrow and projects to finish tonight.” Somehow, trouble always seemed to find her when she least wanted it to. Not that she wanted to have trouble find her at all, but luck was a two way street, and for all that being Ladybug granted her good luck, she attracted criminals like catnip. 

“And here my informants had me thinking you were a regular Florence Nightingale.”

Marinette snorted. “They wish. I’ve got to ask who told you, because everybody should know the rules. You know, the ones where they don’t speak of my existence to their higher ups?”

“I’m not a rat,” Red Hood said, taking the top part of his outfit off. “And it’s not like you would have gone unnoticed anyways. You might be treating small timers now, but people catch on to healers pretty easy.”

“Because some gauze and sewing skills make me such a prime target.”

“No, your magic does.”

Shit. Marinette never told anyone she was using magic, and she rarely used it unless it was a dire situation. If she could patch them up using regular skills, she did. 

“Yeah right, if I had magic healing powers, do you think I’d be shoving my fingers into your shoulder to get a bullet out?”

“Not a very good liar, Lady Cross. You have this deer-caught-in-the-headlights look about you.”

“Thanks for the compliment. I’m also the deer that tramples through your windshield and takes a dump on the driver’s seat.” She maneuvered the tweezers a little rougher, hoping to make Red Hood hiss in pain. He just chuckled, amused. His high pain tolerance was getting rather annoying. She had half a mind to pour hydrogen peroxide over the wound just to see if that would make him show he was in pain, but thought better of it. Even though she didn’t like the man, she also didn’t want to piss him off. Or worse, have him come back and make her fix him up again. 

Threading the needle, she made quick, small stitches on his shoulder, sewing the bullet hole up, then put some petroleum jelly to speed up the healing process and reduce scarring. At least the wound was in a position that didn’t require a lot of gauze. She needed to go out and buy some more soon. She barely had enough to wrap around Red Hood’s waist.

“So, the magic,” Red Hood started. “Is it a conditional thing? Can you not use it all the time?”

“Again, I don’t have magic.” Marinette did have to use some antibacterial on the knife wound. He would need to take good care of that one to make sure it didn’t get infected. 

“So a meta, then. What are you doing in Gotham? Everybody knows Batman hates metas.”

“Not a meta, either, sorry to disappoint.” She tied off the gauze, then stood to wash her hands. “Make sure to clean the stomach wound well. Hope you have your tetanus shot, otherwise you should look into getting one.”

“Surprisingly, I’m inclined to believe you on the not-a-meta thing. Back to the first thing, then. Magic. Why don’t you show me the old razzle dazzle? Do you have to say one of those weird spells like the godmother in Cinderella? Bibbity bobbity boo?”

“You’re hilarious,” Marinette dead panned. 

“How’s this for magic? Bibbity bobbity boo, kindly leave. Shoo.” She followed his suggestion, made a show of jazz hands as well. “Pity I don’t use magic otherwise you’d be gone now. Anyways, it’s time for you to make your exit. It would be great if you didn't visit me again. Ever. Thanks.”

She ushered him out onto her patio, then slammed the sliding door. He saluted her before dropping off the side of the building. She could imagine the man under the helmet smirking.

Marinette ran a hand through her loose hair. “He’s going to come back, isn’t he.”

@jasonette-july-2k20

[plush-rabbit]

Bouncing Knees

Word Count: 2.8K

A/N: I am just sorry for the amount of time it took. So sorryヾ(_ _*)

As a child, you've always been rather timid, too nervous to greet family members, too scared to make friends at school in fear of rejection or humiliation, even into adulthood, you keep your head down and follow what's put in front of you despite knowing that it could be improved, despite seeing the flaws in it scribbled with black ink. You’ve been too nervous, too awkward and shy, keeping your tongue bit and wishing that you would be picked on to share your ideas and pleading to any listening god that no one would call on you.

You’ve tried to share your ideas, eager and clutching a pen until your knuckles pale. It has happened multiple times, but when you opened your mouth, you were talked over, ignored and not even spared a glance with the room growing hotter and your face burning with embarrassment. You were too new and fresh to input your own ideas, too scared that you'd be murdered for treason if they thought you let them go on these dangerous missions beforehand if and when you finally decided to open your mouth. But each time you did, you’d stutter out the beginning of your sentence with a halfway raised hand, voice low but then someone else always talks above you, rising above and speaking clear without so much of a stutter or shortness of breath. You’d shrink in your seat and avoid eye contact, deciding that perhaps the original plan was the best and you were just not seeing it correctly.

Why bother to try to input your own ideas- it never worked out when you tried- you just accepted what you were given and nod with a strained smile on your face. There was no need to call further attention to yourself, to make the inside of your mouth bleed and lips peeled and marked by your own teeth. All you had to do was stay quiet and know that the plans that were made were good plans- no ifs, ands, or buts about it.

You've been with the League for a while now. Since it was still called the League of Villains but now that it's the Paranormal Liberation Front you feel smaller than usual. Granted, it’s not like you were close to any of the members before, always managing to remain undetected, something you both cherished and hated all at once. You’ve never had a soul listen to you, never had the courage to make someone listen to you, to call out the plan and scream about the flaws. You’ve seen how angry they can get, how the sadistic gleam in their eyes would snuff out any other type of emotion. You shiver and feel queasy at the thought of being on the receiving end of those eyes.

You read the papers in front of you, the detailed plan printed in a neat font and at glance, it looks proper, well thought out but it's showboaty, trying to make a big impression. But that's the issue. It's all too much, too big and brash. It's doable but it doesn't fit what the Lea- The Paranormal Liberation Front stands for and needs to do. Worry lines crease your face and you glance down at the papers in front of you.

No, you’ll keep your mouth quiet even if the plan is obviously flawed and why does the rookie have more courage than you? You’ve been here for years! You’ve done so much and yet this rookie wants to implement their own ideas that are preposterous! It would never work, you can’t just aim for something so big without having such hundred percent accuracy that it would work. It’s dumb and if you aimed a little lower, scared just the right people to hate the system more and then move it upwards to people who hold status and see just how long it takes to get to them when the resources are strained then, there’s a possibility at hitting society and chipping away a bigger piece! But no! Go for a fucking-! You suck in a deep breath and roll your tongue in your mouth, indents popping up on the sides of your cheeks, the clip of the pen digging into your skin and you’re furious. Your leg is bouncing and the water held in glasses is sloshing around. You ignore the glances given to you, too annoyed at what this absolute nitwit had the audacity to show and parade it around as if it were an original concept and not something taken out of a cheesy old action movie.

“You keep shaking,” the rookie’s voice is clear and laced with irritation. “Is there something bothering you?” His eyes are narrowed at you and he looks at you with absolute disgust, sneering and raising his upper lip as if it were hooked, his face twisting into something horrible.

This is your chance. All you have to do is open your mouth and speak, speak in front of people, in front of unblinking eyes that are scrutinizing your every movement. Eyes that seem to multiply until there’s hundreds, until they fill the room and- you can’t breathe. Your bottom lip wobbles and you shake your head, bowing it and mumbling an apology, digging your hands into your thighs and ignoring the hushed snickering. Acid fills your mouth and you try to focus on the blood pumping rapidly inside of you, heating you up until you’re fearful that you have sweat stains on your underarms. You try to focus on anything else, trying to drown out the agreements and claps on the back and praises sung to the rookie. Ignoring the stares given to you and the not-so-accidental kicks to the leg of your chair, you hold your breath and wait for people to leave, hearing the door close with a loud slam, making you jump in your seat. 

You’re alone. You let out a sigh and bury your face in your hands. Tears sting your eyes and you have to shake your head and dig the heel of your palm deeper into your eyes, forcing yourself to suck it up. Your vision is spotted and you have to blink away the colors and loosely formed shapes. There's a dull ache in your temple, and you blindly reach for the room temperature room, taking it all in a big gulp that makes your chest hurt. The cup makes a sharp sound in the room when slammed back onto the table. You double over, forearms resting on your thighs and fingers interlocked with each other.

“You know glasses aren’t cheap right?” His voice cuts through the air, sharper than any glass. 

You look up, eyes wide and fearful, mouth dry even after drinking half a glass of water. “I- uh.” You clear your throat and stand straighter. He isn’t one to be treated lightly. You’ve known about him, you've even held a few conversations where you would end up coming out shakier than when you entered them. “My apologies,” you speak quietly. His hair is stark white and eyes that are red like the blood that pumps in your veins, red like the fear and rage. His jaw gives a slight flex, just a slight movement that you caught and you stand from your seat. “I apologize. I didn’t know you wanted to be alone. I’ll leave now.” You really can't handle another humiliation today.

You’re scurrying across the room, mouth pulled into a thin line and cringing when the chair won’t go in properly and stick outwards. You can’t stay here for much longer. You take long strides and keep your arms clamped to your sides, pushing with all your might on the door, wincing when it swings wide open and startles the people on the other end. You walk away, keeping your head lowered and head shaking with a body that runs too hot and makes your clothes stick to your back.

-

It's a few hours until you realize that you didn't take the papers with you. You drag your hand across your face and let out a muffled groan between closed lips. 

“I can’t ask for a copy, that’s just poor etiquette,” you whisper to yourself. “Plus I’d never hear the end of it,” you say that part under your breath. You have a pained expression on your face, and there’s a soft twisting in your stomach, ready to form into something tougher and much more painful than what it currently is.

It’s dark out, few people are walking around, talking in  hushed voices and not sparing you a glance as you make haste towards the conference room used earlier. There was a slim chance that your copy would still be there, but it was better than nothing. You keep your eyes fixated on the path in front of you, not daring to look at anyone in fear that they would begin to question where you were headed off to in such a hurry.

Your hand holds onto the door handle and it clicks open without resistance. The room is dark and your hands are splayed across the walls, fumbling for the light switch. Half of the room is cast in a soft glow, while the other half is still in shadows, only visible thanks to the fluorescent lighting. You walk in quietly, stepping softly as if that would conceal your whereabouts, as if the lighting is invisible to everyone’s eyes but your own.

You let out a sigh of relief when you spot the papers still laid on top of the wooden table. You’re filled with unease when your eyes skim over the neatly printed words. You roll your eyes. “All of it such bullshit,” you mutter out loud. You take a peek at the door and grab the papers, folding them into neat squares and you walk to the front of the table where that damned rookie was spewing his nonsense. “More copies, I should have guessed.”

You sit down and grab a forgotten pen. You run your finger over the smooth surface and take another tentative glance at the door. You take in a deep breath and grab a loose copy and begin to jot down your own invisions for the plan, correcting and scratching out words with black inked loops. This is your forte. You may not be good at speaking out loud, to voice your own thoughts and opinions but you can certainly fix plans. You can spot their flaws and weak points, you know how to fix this. You’re enthralled with your work, your neat and pristine penmanship covers the paper, little symbols mark the paper, juvenile depictions of weapons cover the paper, little descriptions of what can be improved and what might work are written above or next to the text. You don’t notice the shadow that looms over you, too busy with eyes trained and flipping between pages, clicking your tongue and blowing out a raspberry in vexation.

“You know, that’s not a bad idea,” a raspy voice cuts through your thoughts.

“Oh my god!” You yelp and and jump out of the chair, landing on the floor with a loud thump. You hiss and scrunch your face, your hands coming to rub at the sides of your body, trying to soothe over the pain that has begun to bloom.

His eyes are shaded over with his bangs. He runs a hand over his face, parting his hair and revealing his wide eyes that stare at you. “Are you okay?”

You make a flustered noise and your body tenses, muscles going rigid and hands curling into each other. Heat is building up in the shell of your ears and there’s a tightness in your throat. “Ah! Shigaraki-sama-” You pause when he holds up a hand. 

“Shigaraki is fine. You’ve been on the team long enough, right? Since we were the League?”

You nod slowly, surprised that he recognized you or even noticed you for that matter. “Yes,” you give him a hesitant smile.

Your eyes dart across the room and land on him and with a start you realize that you’re still firmly planted on the floor. He clears his throat and offers his hand to you, keeping the one with the brace stuck to his side. You rise to take it, only pulling back at the last second in shock and you rise by yourself, pushing yourself off of the floor and dusting your hands off on your thighs.

“I have control of my quirk now,” he states, bringing his hand to rub at his jaw. “I’m not going to dust you.”

You give a curt nod and clamp your legs together. You stand up straight and wet your lips. “I heard. I uh, congrats?” It comes off more as a question than a statement. 

The room is still as you stare at each other, shoulders jolting when he shuffles over to the table, picking up the paper you’ve scribbled on.

“Oh! Tha-That’s just nonsense! Really!” Your body moves before your mind can register what’s happening. Your hands reach over and grab at the paper, yanking it out of his hands that spread open and you take it into your palms and press it against your chest. “Oh my god,” you mutter. “I’m so sorry!” Your fingers dig into the paper, pressing it deeper against your body.

He gives you a side glance and shrugs his shoulders and picks another paper with your notes on it. He’s silent as he reads the paper, eyes scanning and flipping around, humming in thought. You wait for him to finish, swallowing nervously and keeping your eyes on him. Red eyes glance at you and he holds his hand out, beckoning his fingers for you to hand him the other page. You do so with a shaky hand and burning face.

“Why didn’t you say anything at the meeting?” He puts the paper down and turns his body to face yours. “You had an opportunity.”

“Oh I uh, don’t usually talk. I uh- No one really listens when I have something to say,” you chuckle nervously. “Plus, with everyone’s eyes on me, it just felt so… wrong. I mean, you must have noticed how smug they looked when they asked if something was wrong.”

“Okay, but these are pretty solid plans. Much more than the original shit that was given.”

“You don’t like the original plans?” You ask, furrowing your brows.

“No. Not really. But,” he scratches the back of his neck, “I was waiting until after the meeting to tell him something.”

“After? That’s not like you.” You edge closer to him, scratching your leg with the other. “In the League you never had a problem with calling out people.” You have a vague thought that perhaps Toga or Twice is pulling a prank on you; you wouldn’t put it past them.

“Eugh.” He scoffs and turns his head sharply. “I was told to make myself more approachable. Better leadership or something,” he mumbles under his breath. “Don’t change the subject,” he snaps. Some things never change. 

“I was-”

“These are good plans.” He looks up at you and his red eyes peirce yours with intensity. 

“Thanks,” you mumble. You grab the papers and put them in order, fixing them in a neat stack. You take a deep breath and hold them out to him, smiling politely at him. “Here. You can take them if you’d like.”

He bites his nail and his jaw clenches. He takes in a deep breath and lets his chest fall. “You’re coming with me.”

“I’m sorry?”

“You can’t speak up. Right?”

You nod and slowly lower the papers. “Yes. I- Shigaraki you can just take the papers. Really, just it’s okay.”

“Okay,” he walks past you and he turns back to look at you, tossing his head to the side towards the door. “Let’s go. You’re sticking with me.” He walks without waiting for to catch up, his strides long and powerful, a hand wrapping around the doorknob and he looks back at where you stand with a dumbstruck look.

“Really?”

“Come on, let’s go. We’re going to go talk to the smug asshole and tell him his plans suck.”

You take in a sharp breath. “Right, of course!” You hurry to step next to him, clutching the papers in your hand. 

You both step out of the room, with him by your side and making small chat while he leads you to go find the rookie, a giddy smile on your face as you think about the look he’ll have on his face. 

“Thanks for the opportunity. I won’t disappoint you Shigaraki.” You give him a confident grin and roll your shoulders.

You pause in your steps when he gives a tentative pat on your head. “I know you won’t.”

[theadrogna]

Dream Show Challenge 2.0

@singledarkshade​ came up with the Dream Show challenge last year, where we had to give her a list of 7 TV shows or films and we were given a cast of 7 actors in return. This time we were given someone else’s cast and were allowed to recast one character (plus add some if we wished). This time I came up with:

Virtuality

Synopsis:

Good people die before their time and it happens every day. Eli Danzig is doing his best to change that. He invents a way to upload consciousness to an online server where the dead can live out a normal life in a virtual environment. He builds an entire world to keep his uploaded souls entertained, making it as lifelike as possible. Huge amounts of processing power are required so Eli must choose his clients carefully.

The electronic world is called Virtuality and the uploaded persons are known collectively as the digi-souls. Virtuality has a small but growing population, which is a continuing concern as it means more storage space is always needed. Eli funds his enterprise by playing the stock market using his AI Tallis to filter information and predict stock prices. Sometimes he sells patents for the things that the digi-souls invent, but more often they give their inventions away for free. However, money is always a worry because none of this is a stable source of income.

Cast:

Eli Danzig (Donald Glover) – Eli is a young computer programmer of genius level intellect. He came from a poor background, and was the first in his family to attend university. He is determined to make things better for people, by improving society. He believes that “only the good die young” is a real problem, and if he could keep the good people in the world for longer then maybe more good could be done. He invents a digital after-life for people to upload their consciousness to, but he must maintain it a secret to keep the unscrupulous from corrupting it or destroying it. He researches every person very carefully before inviting them to join Virtuality.

Ashura Hadid (Tala Ashe) – Ashura is a terminal cancer patient who becomes one of Eli’s digi-souls. She is a prize-winning journalist and novelist, known for taking on difficult stories about things that people would rather keep hidden. She’s recently been looking into CharterTech, owned by Maggie Charter as part of a series on corruption in tech companies, but most of her efforts are going into completing her final novel. Eli and Ashura have undeniable chemistry, but live in very different worlds. She is very driven and moral, always looking for new ways to expose corruption and wrong doing.

Oren Murphy (Jim Byrnes) – Oren was Eli’s professor at University. He made sure that Eli got the scholarship that he needed to attend, and then acted as his mentor. He suffered from high blood pressure and had multiple strokes. He agreed to be Eli’s test case for Virtuality and was the first digi-soul to be uploaded. He is a calming influence on Eli’s life, often being the one to counsel him out of a rash decision.

Shona Lennox (Sophia di Martino) – Eli’s technician, she has a background in medical devices and large-scale genetic information storage. She built the mainframe and worked out how to put into practice Eli’s ideas. She often finds herself in unusual situations now she is working for Eli, but likes her new job and the excitement it brings, even if she complains about it. She used to work for CharterTech but Eli doesn’t know that when he hires her. When she leaves CharterTech she decides to start self-defence classes and can definitely handle herself in a crisis.

Ryan Fournier (Joey Batey) – Ryan is an inventor who has been responsible for some of the world’s most important leaps forward in technology, including making ecological sources of power more viable, such as wind and solar power. He is a problem solver and a big ideas guy. Unfortunately, he was born with a genetic condition that meant he died young, but he is now one of Eli’s digi-souls and living on in the Virtuality. He loves nothing better than to sit down with a problem and work out a solution, but occasionally he realises what he’d missing out on in the real world and ends up depressed and unhappy.

Chie Ohta (Naoko Mori) – Chie is a medical researcher and entrepreneur, but she was unable to save herself from a rare blood disease, despite years of trying. In the process she brought many other useful pieces of medical technology to the market and helped save the lives of countless people with cures for diseases. She loved her work, but always knew she was on borrowed time. She left behind a husband and children, who have no idea of her new existence. She continues to check up on them, despite Oren’s suggestion that this isn’t a good idea.

Maggie Charter (Alison Janney) – Maggie is a self-made woman, in the way that all billionaires are self-made. She inherited a fortune from her politician father and invested in business. She had a technical background so she picked tech companies as an obvious interest. She now owns CharterTech, one of the largest technical manufacturing companies in the world. She once tried to recruit Eli and has never been pleased that he turned her down. She knows nothing about Virtuality but has heard rumours that someone was working on something like it.

Tallis (Arthur Darvill) – Tallis is the AI personality that maintains the Virtuality. He is often mistaken for one of the digi-souls by the newly uploaded as he is so lifelike. He is polite and caring, always available to listen. He is Eli’s friend and also occasional advisor. Tallis means “knowledge” and he has access to all of the world’s online resources.

Occam (Karen Gillan) - Is another AI, built by CharterTech. She is new and unruly, but very quick to follow her creator’s orders. Sparks fly between her and Tallis.

Episodes:

Episode 1: Virtually Home

Ashura Hadid, prize winning writer, is dying at the age of 38. It’s not fair, it’s not right and she is having none of it. She is being treated for an aggressive brain tumour, but decides to stop treatment when it becomes clear that it will impact her ability to write and finish her final novel. The novel is partly a work of fiction but is also based on real life events at a chemical factory in the city that she has been researching.

Eli Danzig introduces himself to her and explains that he can offer her a second chance at life, by uploading her mind to Virtuality. She explains that she has no money and Eli tells her how he finances the project. She will never have to pay to live there. Ashura questions Eli further about the procedure and Virtuality itself. Eli tells her that he chooses young people, like Ashura, who have died before their time and had great contributions to make to society. They live in a computer generated world where things are simple but they can continue to work and interact with each other. However, they cannot have contact with the outside world, because Virtuality is a secret. It isn’t ready to be opened up to the world, there isn’t enough storage space on Earth to facilitate it. He doesn’t want it to be something that only the rich have access to, so he has decided to choose who gets to go there.

Elsewhere, Maggie Charter discusses her heart condition with her doctor and hears that she may only have a few months to live. She is 61 years old and a tech mogul. For years she has been looking for a way to cure her heart disease. Her network of corporate spies have heard of a young man with an unusual portfolio of patents and a strange pattern of spending on digital storage. She finds out that it is Eli and decides to look into what he is doing more.

Over the course of their discussions, Eli and Ashura grow closer. Eli’s AI partner, Tallis, warns him that he cannot form emotional attachments to the Digi-souls. Ashura will die soon and then Eli will only be able to have limited interaction with her through the interface he has built. Ashura thinks over the proposal and decides to take the plunge. Episode 1 ends with her death. However, Ashura doesn’t die of brain cancer, she is found murdered in her apartment.

Episode 2: Extra Life

Eli must upload Ashura within 12 hours of her death to retain all of her memories, after that time degradation begins to take place. Eli races against time to reach Ashura in the morgue and take the brainwave recording that he needs. Shona Lennox, Eli’s technician, ends up breaking in while Eli creates a computer distraction. They are finally able to upload Ashura’s consciousness, but she has forgotten the days before her death, and they are unable to find out who killed her. She has also forgotten who Eli is.

Meanwhile in Virtuality, the digi-souls try to analyse Ashura’s work for the likely culprit and begin putting together a picture of who it might be. Someone at CharterTech seems a very strong candidate, but then they discover that Ashura was close to uncovering a chemical spill which derails their ideas.

Episode 3: Online Banking

Maggie is putting together more about Eli and his weird ability to make money from stock market trades and a portfolio of patents that seem to have little in common. She uncovers more about the shell companies that he trades through and puts more pieces together. Tallis flags up her interest and Eli works to cover his tracks. It’s the worst time for Ryan to make a major breakthrough in water purification that could save hundreds of lives, but only if they can get it to the right people. With Maggie watching everything that Eli and Shona are doing in the real world, perhaps only the virtual world can get the idea where it needs to be, especially as Ryan is feeling like his efforts don’t matter as he reads yet another news article on how climate change isn’t real.

Shona is contacted by her former boss at CharterTech who invites her to return, but Shona turns them down. The concerning part is that she’s being asked to work on an AI project called Occam. Ashura continues her investigations into CharterTech whilst rekindling her past relationship with Eli.

Episode 4: Occam’s Razor

Maggie has a heart attack, but survives, however she is becoming more and more concerned about her health. She brings online her own AI, Occam and begins to sift through all of the information that she can acquire on medical technology. Occam comes across Chie’s work when she was alive. No one else seems to have been quite as close to curing the heart issue that Maggie has. Occam notices that Eli’s shell company has patented some devices that were based on Chie’s work. In fact, Occam notices that this is something of a trend in Eli’s patent’s and brings together the other work that he has done to see something that Maggie has been unable to see up until this point. Eli may have some way of accessing the brains of the dead.

Episode 5: Reality Bytes

Ryan is bored and ends up creating a virtual ant colony that soon gets out of control, causing all sorts of trouble for Virtuality. Tallis is very much not amused at the replicating program that Ryan has introduced to the system. He and Oren are left to deal with it with only minimal input from Eli as he is being sued by CharterTech over one of his patents. It looks like a lawsuit brought specifically to waste his time, but there doesn’t seem to be anyway to circumvent it, especially with everyone else busy with the increasingly problematic (and storage sucking) ant farm.

Episode 6: Denial of Service

Someone tries to hack into Virtuality and it is up to Eli and the digi-souls to stop them. Chie finds out that her teenage daughter has a new boyfriend, and against Tallis’ advice she looks into him and discovers that he has a possible chromosomal abnormality which could lead to an early death. Chie tries to decide whether she should find a way to let her husband know.

Eli and the others successfully prevent the hack but are worried that someone now knows of the existence of Virtuality. Certainly someone is testing their defences. Shona finally tells Eli that she used to work for CharterTech and the fallout is unfortunate.

Episode 7: Second Life

Eli finds a possible new candidate for Virtuality and starts his due diligence. Usually Shona would be involved in this process but their recent falling out means that things are not running smoothly. The new prospect seems like the perfect candidate and Eli almost begins his usual approach, until Oren uncovers some anomalies that Eli had missed. They may not even exist at all. The question is, who knows enough about Virtuality to do something like this?

Tallis uncovers the existence of Occam, and there is a brief encounter where they size each other up. Occam is identified as the force that tried to hack Virtuality before.

Episode 8: Power Switch

City-wide power outages see Eli scrambling to ensure Virtuality doesn’t go down and lose all the digi-souls. Shona returns to help and the two resolve their differences whilst saving the world that they built together. The digi-souls come up with increasingly desperate plans to produce the power they need to survive, but save the day in the end. Ryan puts together new plans to ensure it never happens again.

Episode 9: Deleted

Ashura finally gets to the bottom of who murdered her and it was nothing to do with CharterTech or Maggie. Her exposé of a chemical company’s disregard for environmental law was the issue that caused her death. Shona uses some contacts to get the police involved and the digi-souls help Ashura gather enough evidence to get the culprit put away in jail for a long time.

Eli and Ashura address some of the issues with their relationship, but resolve to give it a go, despite the obvious barriers.

Episode 10: Boss Fight

Maggie and Occam finally uncover the existence of Virtuality and the digi-souls. The finale sees Maggie managing to force her way into the digital world, whilst Occam and Tallis fight it out. Eli and Shona do their best to help Tallis, but find their offices raided and their technology confiscated. Maggie gets time to get a foothold, but the strain is too much on her heart.

Just as Eli and Shona find their way back in, Maggie dies in the real world. Eli can either choose to kill her for good or keep her malevolent presence in Virtuality. Tallis isn’t too keen on sharing with Occam either.

[korianelise]

Of Protective Big Brothers and Asshole Friends

People should be more like flowers.

Flowers were simple, easy to please beings that were just along for the ride. All they needed was Sun, Soil, and water, and they were happy.

Flowers were beautiful in their simplicity. They were independent, quiet, and everything Purpled wishes he could be.

Humans, though, were ugly in their greed. Always needing more for themselves, hoarding as many riches and resources they can. It was never the necessities they craved, it was how much junk they could buy to show off. In Purpled’s opinion, he’d rather be a lonely flower.

Or maybe a weed? While flowers stuck out for their beauty, weeds blended in for the opposite. Yeah, that’s right, he’d rather be a weed sitting atop an abandoned hill, overlooking the sea, flowing in the breeze, then what he was right now.

It’s not that he was the problem, the boy actually prided himself on staying out of the countless wars going on in the server, it was everyone else. It seemed like they had all been blinded by their own need for power.

The once beautiful SMP now represents something dark, ugly, and twisted.

But what could he do about it? He was one of the most irrelevant inhabitants on the server. It hadn’t always been that way, but as he said, humans were greedy.

So, what the hell was he supposed to do when Dream all but breaks his door down in a haste to get inside?

It was a surprise to see the man, so much so that he startled so bad he drops the sword he was holding, distantly aware of how the blade barely missed his socked foot.

Watching the older man clumsily make his way to his feet, out of breath and face split into one of the biggest grins Purpled had ever seen, he merely raises an eyebrow when he exclaims, “Oh man, I can’t believe that worked! ”

Huffing a bit, still unsure of how he felt about the intruder in his home, Purple catches eye of all the potions and weapons strapped to the Admin’s body. “Care to explain?”

God, what was he supposed to do? He hasn’t seen Dream in so long, the elder being busy trying to take Wilbur and Tommy down. Why? He couldn’t tell you, but word on the street says the blonde wasn’t happy with the revolution against his rule.

It was, what, 5? 6? Citizens in total? Purpled didn’t understand the big deal, but honestly? That’s probably for the best, something tells him trying to wrap his head around the conflict will give him one hell of a migraine.

“Annual manhunt,” Swiping a hand through his now damp hair, Dream starts to look a bit sheepish, “I-I didn’t think you’d be home?”

Scrunching his brow even further, Purpled is a bit puzzled by the statement. If he wasn’t home, Dream wouldn’t have been able to get it. It’s a blatant lie, but Purpled is too exasperated to call the blonde out on it. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“It sure as hell would have made me feel better.” Flopping down on the bed next to him, Dream sighs in content at finally being able to sit down.

Purpled, on the other hand, squawks in protest at this, the man is soaking wet, and he was kinda planning on sleeping in his bed tonight, so he’d rather it not get soaked.

Stifling a sigh, the boy trudges his way over to his bed. All but throwing his body onto it, Purpled starts poking the older blonde on the cheek repeatedly, “Get up you big oaf.”

Slapping the smaller boy’s hand away, Dream turns his head to the boy, unclipping his porcelain mask from his face. “What did you just call me?”

Chuckling nervously, Purpled inches his way off the bed bit by bit, “Nothing.”

“No, no” Pouncing before Purpled could even comprehend what was going on, Dream has the boy tackled to the bed, hands waving playfully over him, “You called me an oaf, I think that warrants an apology.”

A cocky grin suddenly fills the smaller boy’s face as he looks up, mischief shining in his violet eyes, “Okay, okay, you’re right. I’m sooo sorry that you’re just so lazy, and boring and-”

“That’s it!” The young boy is cut off by a giggle forcing its way out of his throat as Dream’s hands suddenly scribble at his side.

“W-Wait! Dream-” Hands flying down to fight off the ones scratching at his ribs, Purpled can’t stop the relentless laughter that comes out of him. It takes the boy a few minutes, but eventually, he is able to wriggle himself out from under Dream, propping himself on his elbows to catch his breath. “God, you asshole.”

Laughing to himself, Dream lightly smacks the boy on the shoulder, “Don’t say that.” Waiting for the teen to compose himself a bit more, Dream watches in mild curiosity as the boy reaches into the chest next to his bed, pulling out a golden apple.

Throwing it at the older man’s head, Purpled scoffed as he almost dropped it, “Thought you might be hungry.”

Taking a bite of the sweet treat, Dream doesn’t even attempt to keep good manners as he mutters a quick, “Thanks,” with a mouth full of food.

Scrunching his brow in disgust, Purpled looks at the blonde critically, “You’re so gross, god,” Laughing at the shove that follows the remark.

The two sit in content silence for a bit after that, both waiting for Dream to finish his food before striking up conversation again.

Purpled had begun to fiddle with the sleeves of his jacket waiting for the older man to finish, a nervous habit he picked up once the wars started.

You can only be shoved to the side so many times before you start to get anxious every time you talk to someone.

Dream must have picked up on the dip in his mood though, carelessly tossing the apple core behind him and shifting so he’s sitting more in front of Purpled than off to the side of him. “So, what have you been up to, kid? I feel like I haven’t seen you in a while.”

It took all of Purpled’s self-control not to snap at the man. “Maybe because you haven’t. I’ve been...busy. Super duper, have no time to hang out with anyone, busy.”

The wince he receives from the statement is satisfactory enough.

Because it has been forever since he’s seen Dream--well, scratch that. He sees Dream all the time, but the man is always busy fighting off that little rebellion. What did they call themselves again? L’Manburg, right?

But, before Dream could even utter a word of apology, a shrill yell cuts him off.

“It’s the only place we haven’t looked, man! He has to be up there!”

Exchanging a glance with Dream, both boys make their way over to the stained glass lining his UFO’s walls. Upon looking down, Purpled can make out both Bad and Sapnap making their way up his water elevator, and George keeping watch on the ground.

“ Shit!” Flying away from the window and into the middle of the circle room, Dream quickly clips his mask back on as he tugs anxiously on his blonde hair, “They’re here.”

Returning his gaze to the window, Purpled’s eyes widen upon seeing the two hunters about halfway up. “You gotta go, man. Like right now.”

Dropping his head, like he’s about to regret the decision he’s about to make, Dream turns to Purpled one last time, stature rigid and jittery, before saying, “I’m sorry kid, I’ll pay for the damages. Go hide.”

And with that he crashes through the window, glass shattering everywhere as Dream pulls out a water bucket to stop the would-have-been fatal landing.

The second Dream hits the ground, Sapnap, and Bad break the hatch to his UFO open, wasting no time in composing themselves and scouring the room.

It wasn’t until Sapnap’s gaze snapped onto him that Purpled felt the terror he was feeling truly sink in.

Now, he wasn’t an easy kid to spook, he played bed wars for fun for god’s sake! But, this wasn’t the arena where everything was just fun and games, no, this was Dream's server where you only get three respawns, three , before you’re dead. Permanently.

So can he really be blamed if he countered every step Sapnap took towards him with his own step back?

The tactic seemed to be working fine for him until his back finally hit the wall he knew he inevitably would.

It seemed like that had been the cue Sapnap was waiting for. Surging forward, the brunet swings out his sword and presses it gently against his neck faster than Purpled’s brain could keep up with.

Sucking in a harsh breath, Purpled can’t help the tremors that wrack his body as Sapnap snarls in his face, “Where is he?”

This wasn’t the Sapnap he knew, wasn’t the man he usually hung out with. No, this was a tired, agitated, and not thinking straight Sapnap. A Sapnap that was known to make reckless and poor decisions, a very “act now, think later” typa guy.

God, why can’t his brain just shut up for once?

“Sap, wait, he’s not in here.” Sagging in relief as the blade was pulled away from him, Purpled looks over to see who just saved his neck. Standing over the broken glass of the window Dream jumped out of was Bad, looking down at the duel between the blonde and George that was currently happening, “The muffin jumped.”

In a moment of bravery Purpled sure as hell didn’t really possess, the boy scrambled over to where Bad was standing. Looking down, he can’t help the proud smile that creeps its way onto his face. Dream is kicking George’s ass.

Maybe if he had been paying better attention he would have heard the muttered, “Green bastard,” from Sapnap, or the “Language” exclaimed by Bad, or the look the two men changed before two large hands clamped down on his shoulders.

His whole body tensed under the touch, an involuntary shiver running down his spine. This wasn’t a brotherly clap on the shoulders from Dream, or a playful swat from Tommy, this was a “You’re not getting away” grip.

“I’m sorry, kid” And before Purpled even knew what was happening, the arms on his shoulders were forcing his body out of the window, the alarmed cries of Bad falling on two pairs of deaf ears, “But we really need a distraction.”

Purpled, in his panicked state, had just enough time to remember that he didn't have any water buckets in his inventory before he was pushed off the ledge, a blood-curdling scream ripping through his throat as he plummeted towards the unforgiving ground.

He almost missed the way Dream's head snapped up at the shout before the world went black.

He was entirely out of options.

Manhunts usually don’t go this poorly for him, not to brag or anything, but Dream usually kicked ass during them. This year? Not so much.

He couldn’t even tell you why he was doing so bad, he had plenty of armor, food, and weapons. Yet here he was, almost completely out of breath, running like a madman to his little brother’s humble little home.

Okay, maybe a giant UFO in the sky wasn’t exactly too humble of a home, but you get what he means.

Reaching the door of the water elevator, Dream hesitates. His friends aren’t that far behind him, and he knows how desperate they’re getting to disarm him, to win their first manhunt. All in all, a version of his friends he doesn’t really want around his little brother.

But, he was out of breath, his legs were aching, and he hasn’t seen Purpled in so long .

With that thought in mind, the blonde wrenches open the door, taking a deep breath before stepping into the water and letting it pull him up to the trap door leading into the younger’s house.

Swinging the small hatch open, Dream throws himself out of the water, not even caring to try and do so gracefully. “Oh, man,” He breathes, a wheezy laugh bubbling out of him, “I can’t believe that worked! ”

Because he really hadn’t, today has been a mess and he didn’t expect anything to go his way. He truly thought his friends would have caught up to him before he was able to make his escape.

Somewhere in the room, Dream hears a surprised yelp cut its way through his laughter. Looking up, the blonde is just quick enough to catch the blade of a diamond sword barely missing Purpled’s socked foot, though it seemed as though the boy was too shocked to notice the close call.

Jesus, he didn’t come up here just to suffer a heart attack.

But, before he could berate the boy for being so careless, Purpled’s voice cuts him off. “Care to explain?” The remark comes off playful and sassy, but Dream could hear the slight concern and confusion behind it.

Climbing to his feet, Dream takes a moment to collect himself. “Annual manhunt, “ he sighs, swiping a calloused hand through his sandy hair, “I-I didn’t think you’d be home?”

He hates how it comes off more like a question. It’s clear to see in the younger blonde’s expression that he doesn’t believe him a single bit. But, it seems like the kid was willing to humor him if his next statement was anything to go by.

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“It sure as hell would have made me feel better.” Which wasn’t a lie, Dream doesn’t think he’d be able to live with himself if Purpled got hurt because of him.

Deciding that he was done standing, Dream flops onto the purple bed next to him, relishing in the relief it brings his aching bones, and smiling at the squawk of protest it gets out of Purpled.

Closing his eyes, Dream hadn’t noticed the boy had begun to make his way over to the bed as well until he felt a hand sneak under his mask to poke his face. Again, and again, and again.

“Get up you big oaf.”

Finally having enough of the childish antics, Dream unclips his porcelain mask and turns to face the younger beside him, mock anger taking over his face. “What did you just call me?”

It takes everything in him to not burst out laughing at the panic blossoming on the blonde’s face. “Nothing.”

“No, no” Tackling Purpled to the bed, Dream wiggles his fingers above the boy’s rids threateningly, an evil grin splitting onto his face, “You called me an oaf, I think that warrants an apology.”

He can’t help but raise an eyebrow at the cocky smile that takes over the younger’s face. “Okay, okay, you’re right. I’m sooo sorry that you’re just so lazy, and boring, and-”

“That’s it!” Digging his hands into the teen’s ribs, Dream can’t help but laugh a bit along with him. It’s been so long since he’s heard his little brother laugh, he hadn’t even realized how much he missed the sound until now.

With a gasp, he feels smaller hands fly down to his own and try to fight them off, “W-Wait! Dream-” but Purpled couldn’t seem to complete a sentence through his relentless stream of giggles.

Finally taking pity on the boy, Dream lets up on his attack, moving away from the smaller body to let the blonde compose himself.

“God, you asshole.”

Chuckling a bit at the snark, Dream lands a light slap onto the boy’s shoulder. “Don’t say that.” Sure, it was a bit hypocritical, he had quite the potty mouth himself, but it made him feel like more of a big brother to say things like that.

Watching with mild curiosity as Purpled leans over the side of his bed, reaching into the chest there, Dream is most definitely not prepared for the golden apple that comes flying at his head, scrambling back to try and catch it clumsily.

“Thought you might be hungry.”

Taking a bite into the small treat, Dream can’t help but sigh in content at the taste. He hadn’t even realized how hungry he was until now, “Thanks” he mumbled, having no regard for the fact that his mouth was full of half-chewed up food.

With a fake gag and a look of utter disgust, he hears Purpled say, “You’re so gross, god.”

Scowling at the statement, Dream leans over enough to shove the boy away from him, slumping in his own mock self-pity.

Taking another bite of the apple Dream contemplates a thought over each bite. How could he have gone this long without checking in on his little brother? Sure, he was older than both Tommy and Tubbo but he was still his baby brother .

He was supposed to be there for him, hang out with him, and make him feel loved. But, he can’t help but feel as though he’s failed Purpled.

How do you just forget about the most important person in the world to you?

Moving his gaze back to the blonde boy in front of him, Dream notices the way his face has fallen, and how he’d started to fiddle with the sleeves of his cotton sweater.

Huh, last he checked the boy didn’t have any nervous quirks to him.

Tossing the apple core behind him, not even caring to try and aim it at the trash can, Dream’s face softens as he focuses on trying to fix the mistakes he’s made. “So, what have you been up to, kid? I feel like I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Maybe because you haven’t. I’ve been...busy. Super duper, have no time to hang out with anyone, busy.”

Okay, that one stung.

Because he knows it's a lie. Dream doesn’t even want to count how many times he’s seen Purpled warily watching him from afar. Watching him fight in a stupid war that didn’t seem so worth it anymore. Not if it hurt his relationship with Purpled this deeply.

Just as he was about to open his mouth and tell the boy in front of him how sorry he was, and how much he truly meant to him, a shrill yell from outside cuts him off.

“It’s the only place we haven’t looked, man! He has to be up there!”

He had really hoped he would have more time before they found him.

Glancing at Purpled, both boys warily make their way across the room to look outside. Upon reaching the window, Dream’s heart almost beats out of his chest. They were coming up here.

“Shit!” Launching himself into the center of the room, panic starts to creep into Dream’s chest.

They were going to come up here, into his little brother’s home, and trash it in search of him. His poor, innocent, little brother’s house that he spent weeks building from the ground up.

God, he was so stupid.

“You gotta go, man. Like right now.”

Snapped out of his trance, Dream hadn’t even realized Purpled had taken another peek out the window.

Stifling a long, exasperated sigh, Dream hangs his head low. He needed to get out now . Not being here would put Purpled in less danger, and give him a better chance at getting to the End. He could easily fight off George.

But he really didn’t want to leave Purpeld alone.

Clipping the white mask to his face, not wanting the other blonde to see the regret for his future actions painting it, Dream lets the emotionless smile settle on the violet eyes boring into him.

“I’m sorry, kid, I’ll pay for the damages. Go hide.”

Not giving himself another second to think about what the hell he was doing, Dream sprints as fast as he could towards the glass in front of him, making an effort to ignore the surprised gasp Purpled had let out.

Drawing a water bucket from his inventory, Dream uses it to turn the would-have-been-fatal fall into the exact opposite. Upon landing, he whips around to see George charging him, sword out and ready to come down on him.

Pushing away the panic about the boy he left behind down, Dream smiles under his mask. George was just too easy.

Ducking under the swing, Dream kicks his leg out, sending the older man flying back with a grunt of pain.

Not giving his opponent the chance to retaliate the blow, Dream is on him in a second.

He wants to end this as soon as possible. He left his baby brother alone with Bad and Sapnap--someone who was known to make brash and dumb decisions. But, his pride wouldn’t let him just stand down. The sooner he could win, the sooner he could-

White-hot pain exploding on his face him cut off the blonde’s thoughts.

Stumbling back, Dream registers that George had clocked him in the jaw, a cheap shot taken in a moment of vulnerability.

Shoving down his agitation, Dream pulls his focus back to the fight. Getting his ass beat isn’t going to help anybody.

Taking out his own sword, Dream starts taking slash after slash at George, forcing the britt onto the defensive as he takes step after step back to avoid getting cut.

None were fatal blows, but ones that would sure as hell hurt.

Raising his sword backward, so the hilt of the blade was above George’s temple, Dream can’t help the smirk that plasters itself onto his face as he’s about to drop his arm and knock the older out, but a sudden noise makes his whole body freeze.

That….sounded familiar.

The scream was too high-pitched and youthful to be from either Sapnap or Bad, which only left one other person as to who it could be- no.

Dropping his sword, Dream's mind goes blank as he starts running as fast as his body will allow him to Purpled's rapidly falling form. The boy had gone silent, no long flailing in the air, or screaming, or sobbing, or giving him any indication that he was still awake.

And if he had passed out, there was no way for him to land safely.

That thought seemed to do what Dream thought was impossible, and made his body move even faster. The boy's body was too close to the ground now for him to catch him gently.

In a last-ditch effort to reach his baby brother's body, Dream takes a leap of faith and all but football tackles the small, limp, fragile body not 5-feet in front of him.

Tumbling to the ground, the force of the impact forcing Dream to roll head over heels multiple times, he looks down once he stops and is more than relieved to see a small body cradled to his chest, not ashes from what would have been his first death.

Ignoring the throbbing in his own body, or the 3 forms making their way over to him, Dream looks over Purpled, noticing that he was right, the boy had passed out. There were tear tracks on his face, red, and blotchy, and just wrong looking on him, and he had a sluggishly bleeding cut on the crown of his head.

Overall okay--but far from it at the same time.

This was the boy's first close encounter with death, and if Dream had any say in it, will be the closest Purpled ever gets to dying again.

Pulling the vulnerable form closer to his chest, Dream buries his head in the soft curls of the boy's hair.  Nothing else mattered right now, just his little brother secured to his chest and the fact that he almost died .

"-Ream, is he alright? You're gonna have to move buddy, I need to look him over."

Snapping his head up at the voice, Dream is met with the face of an all-too calm Bad. But, upon closer inspection of the man's face, he could tell he was pale, seemingly shaken up from the past events as well.

To his right was George, the Britt's hand slapped over his mouth, eyes bulging out of his head as he stared at the two huddled on the floor, as if he couldn't believe what just happened.

And that means to his left was Sapnap.

Eyes narrowing in the deadliest glare he could muster, the only thing keeping Dream from attacking the man right now was the little body cradled in his arms. " I’ll kill you ."

[buckyjustbelikethat]

The Fiction of Fairytales: Prologue

Title: The Fiction of Fairytales: Prologue

Characters: (eventual) Stucky x Reader

Summary: (a/b/o au that is non-cannon compliant) After being captured and forced to live as Brock Rumlow’s mate for years you are kidnapped by the Avengers. They plan to interrogate you for information on Hydra and Rumlow, but after Steve and Bucky realize they are your true mates, they realize that their kidnapping was more of an unexpected rescue. 

Warnings: Mentions of assault, kidnapping, and abuse.

Word Count: approx. 1400

A/N: Why is it becoming a trend in my multipart series that the first chapter takes place between tony and the reader. Anyways, this part is very angsty and not fun, but there will definitely be fluff and romance coming in the future. I hope you guys like the beginning! 💕

As a kid you dreamed of finding your mate one day. Your parents had a beautiful relationship, you grew up watching the adoration in their eyes when they looked at each other and you wanted that. They seemed the most relaxed and at peace when you all were together. You didn’t know much about what your parents did, and to this day you still don’t, but at the age of 16, you learned that whatever it was that they did, they had made themselves an enemy of Hydra. You were having a movie night, all three of you watching the most recent released Disney movie. You sometimes imagine yourself there in the days that followed, praying that your mind could conjure those moments in the present rather than remain cruelly unreachable memories. But they are gone now, and you weren’t sure if you would ever know true peace again.

Hydra had invaded your home, and killed your parents. This is when you had begun to wish you never were an omega. Maybe if you weren’t, you never would have been taken that day. You would have gone with your parents, and your life would have stayed blissful up until the moment of your death. Unfortunately, when the Alphas that had invaded smelled you they decided to take you. The head of the group that attacked you was Brock Rumlow. He had decided you would be his before any of the other Alpha’s could get their hands on you. Though that didnt mean he had stopped them in the future.

For the past 8 years you were Brock’s omega, not by your own choice. You had tried to escape him a few times and soon you realized the pain when they caught you again was worse than staying. It was pointless to try and leave. Brock had all of the resources of Hydra and you had nothing, and since your parents died, you had no one.

The faith that you previously had in love that was demonstrated and proclaimed by your parents seemed like a fairytale. Most importantly a fictional reality you were not given the privilege of having in your own life. You only knew pain from alphas, not just your bonded mate Brock, but his alpha friends he would invite over to your place.

In the beginning Brock kept you locked in the cold basement, chained up most of the time due to your many escape attempts. But at some point he had broken you physically and emotionally, and he knew it. That was his goal, to not be able to see beyond the life he had given you. You were expected to please him in all aspects. You were his to command in any way imaginable, he had convinced you over the years that he only asked what was expected of every omega, convincing you that even if you left you would never be safe from your presentation. You were now able to sleep with him in his bed, though that was probably the last place you would want to be. You were given free reign of the home, mostly so you could keep it to his expectations and serve him. He even allowed you to go to the grocery store, though you knew he was watching you at all times, he would know when you left and if you didn’t make it back within what he considered a reasonable time or you talked to too many people you were punished. You were punished for just about everything, and sometimes just because it was what he felt like doing at the time.

Most people in hydra knew about you. Brock took you to all of the public events, and he would often make sure to not harm you in any visible places leading up to whatever event he wanted to show you off at. Not that anyone at the party would care about his abuse, hell most of them had, at some point, had a part in it, he just wanted you to look more attractive. Though he never complimented you, too focused on making you feel worthless, you knew from others that your scent and appearance was enticing, and you wished that it wasn’t the case.

Brock was having people over tonight, and you were expected to go to the grocery store. He didn’t give you the luxury of knowing who it was, you only wished to know what to expect, whether or not Brock would expect you to please whatever company it was. But like normal you were left in the dark, you only knew how he expected you to prepare and what food to make. Over the years you felt like you had gotten really good at cooking, though you weren’t allowed to have much of the food you made, he would tell you it was too good for you. He would either give you scraps or make you prepare something bland to eat for dinner.

You were picking up the ingredients as quick as you could at the store, despite the pain you were in from the morning. Brock had gotten mad at you for something minimal, you had looked at him in the eyes on accident, which was one of his least favorite things, and he had beaten you. Though you were sure you had a few broken bones, you were used to continuing on through the pain, he did not tolerate anything else. You thankfully had gotten used to the layout of the store since it was the only one he would allow you to go to, so you were able to make your trip as short as possible. It was the closest one to your house, and you imagined that at some point he had someone hack into the cameras.

After you loaded the bags into your car, you got into the drivers side only to scream when you saw a figure behind you.

“Hello, I’m sure you know of me, at this point everyone does, and you’re going to listen to my directions.” It was Iron Man, and though you weren’t too familiar with him, you had heard of him enough to know that he was an enemy of hydra, or that hydra was an enemy of him, you didn’t know which one was more appropriate. He almost didn’t need to point his weapon at you, he was wearing his whole suit as if he imagined you were some kind of threat, and you wouldn’t stand a chance even if he wasn’t wearing it, especially with the kind of pain you were in. Based on his threatening position in your back seat, and the fact that he smelled very much like an alpha, you assumed this was no rescue. Whatever it was, you hoped it would even be the slightest bit better than how Brock treated you. Maybe he would even give you the gift of killing you, then all of this would be over.

You looked at the cameras and noticed that in his position the car next to you blocked them from being able to see him.

“Don’t even bother looking, your mate isn’t going to save you. You’re going to put the car in drive and follow my instructions.”

You were too fearful to argue with him calling Brock your mate. Sure he technically was, but you had no choice in any of it. You originally had dreams of only bonding with your true mate, but that’s all it was, just dreams.

You didn’t respond. You had learned over the years to only speak when necessary, and you had a feeling Stark wasn’t going to listen to anything you had to say anyway. So you put the car in drive and followed Stark’s instructions. “You know you need to get out more, we’ve been following you for a while and you only go to the grocery store if you aren’t with your mate. I gotta say, that’s a little weird.” You didn’t know what to say, unsure if an honest reply would really get you anywhere.

“So, you aren’t much of a talker either I’m guessing, that’s fine, as long as you answer our questions when we get to the tower, I don’t care how much you talk.”

So, that’s why they wanted you. They thought you could give them information on Brock, or hydra. Maybe when he realized you were of no use to him he really would kill you.

Next Chapter

[notthatiwilleverwriteit]

Hello!So there's always been this theory that he tian will join the family business.but dosen't this a contradiction to everything he had done until now? he tian wanted mo to be good and even he tian was trying to be his best self throughout all this time. so he tian joining the business will be like joining the "dark side" at least that what he tian also thinks. so I don't know what reason there would be to make him join because he would need to do some bad things if he would be part of it, im afraid it would ruin his whole process

Hello, dear anon!

I have talked quite a lot about my thoughts regarding the future of HT (and Tianshan). Here are two previous posts that I feel like could be useful for your questions, especially:

Would HT work for his family in the future?

About the distance in Tianshan and HT’s future

However, your question had an interesting character development angle that I don’t think I have pondered before as such. And I feel like the recent chapter had some curious crumbs that also got me thinking about this whole thing again. So, at the risk of repeating myself, I am once again diving into this.

A quick note before getting further, though. The translations of any chapters that come after 341 used in this post are done by @1154lizz Please, go support our fandom’s precious lifelines!

“there's always been this theory that he tian will join the family business”

This has actually been one of the things that the new chapter got me to reconsider. I have heard the theory of HT potentially working for his family in the future, and I have always thought it very likely based on the Christmas specials.

I still think he might end up in the family business, but after the newest chapter, my focus somewhat shifted (ch. 348):

In the Christmas specials, the boys are at college age. ZZX is going to a university while JY is catching up on his high school education. MGS seems to be working, but the pile of books hints that he might be studying something, too.

Considering the He family a bit more, I actually think HT might be going to a university in the Christmas specials. Despite their presumably criminal line of work/involvement, I think the He family puts importance on intelligence and prestige. HT always scores top of his class. He is viewed and treated like an apple of the eye by the teachers, their prized pupil. I also think that if HT is to inherit the position of his family, he is expected to be smart and educated. Not to mention, prestige always means a lot of money which attracts powerful people to rub shoulders.

So, HT having a university degree (in business, perhaps) would make sense in my head. And if Mr. He is located abroad, HT is probably going to a foreign university as well. Of course, that doesn't mean he can’t be already somewhat involved in the family business by then, but I would say it’s entirely possible he’s still being groomed.

But this was just a side note. Whether he is already working for his father or otherwise getting close to that doesn’t really change things that much regarding your question.

“dosen't this a contradiction to everything he had done until now? // I don't know what reason there would be to make him join because he would need to do some bad things if he would be part of it”

This is actually something I haven't really thought about before. At least, not in so many words. I was talking about HT’s future with a friend of mine, and she said that she wishes HT won’t “give up on himself” in the sense that he stops rebelling against this father/family. Especially after everything he’s been through with MGS trying to make him fight for his own future and not submit. What would be the point of him telling MGS to be his own person if HT himself then joins the dark side even if it’s against his will?

Before I get to my thoughts regarding all that, I think it’s important to remember that the future is very much a question mark to us still. Even though the fact that HT seems to be staying abroad (among other things) gives us a base to make certain guesses, we still don't know for sure what he is up to in the future-related chapters. It’s good to keep that in mind when pondering the overall character development.

But I do take my friend’s and your points, dear anon. I could see why it would be disappointing if HT basically undid the progress of working on himself and went against his own principles. I could understand why it would be sad to see his fight have been for naught in the end.

But...as much as I do see where you’re coming from, I still kind of prefer the idea of HT getting involved with the family business one way or another in the future. Instead of disappointing, I would find it realistic and more interesting. HT having to compromise on his rather idealistic principles but still having them represented in MGS would have the kind of angsty layers that personally appeal to me. Both the good and bad being present in HT’s characters in a realistic way - imagine the complexity of that! The bitter-sweetness of “don’t become what I became”. Also, HT trying to keep the world of his family and whatever he has with MGS in the future separate would definitely be my kind of mafia ship aesthetic.

As far as potential reasons why HT might join his family business in the future, I think there are some possible reasons that have been hinted at in the current timeline already. I have talked about these before in the previous answers I linked above, so I won’t go as deep into this topic.

First of all, I think the He family has the kind of resources and influence that could help HT protect his friends and people who are dear to him (ch. 244, 245, 267):

HT’s character seems to have this contradiction that he despises his family’s behavior and way of dealing with things, but he will take advantage of that manpower and influence when it suits him. Granted, he does use them to protect his friends and I’m sure relying on them is less than ideal in his mind, but it still goes against him “being his own person”. In the end, resources matter and even HT can’t ignore that which makes his situation realistic.

Ultimately I think HT using his family could lead to him owing to them and basically being made to submit to his family’s will that way. In fact, I would say it has already happened a couple of times. At the back of one of those incidents, HT had to agree to go see his father. I don’t see why that arrangement couldn’t escalate further in the future as the steaks go higher. I think it very likely that in the future he will keep sacrificing his own ideals and principles to protect the good people who don't deserve to be oppressed by people like Mr. He.

Secondly, despite everything, this is still HT’s family we’re talking about, and I think he is more hung up on them than he would like to admit (ch. 229, 251, 252, 292):

I think the topic of family is very difficult for HT and he has a love-hate relationship with them. It’s painful to be disappointed and let down by the people you love as instinctively as one loves their family. HT has clearly been put through a lot of pain and trauma by the dangerous and ruthless life his family has chosen to lead. 

But I don’t think even that has made HT completely given up on them. Perhaps not even when it comes to his father. I’m not sure if he is naive enough to expect them to change their lifestyle, but on some level, he might be waiting for something. When it comes to our families, the human mind works in mysterious ways. It’s easy to stay in a toxic environment and wait for something to change. And really, there are only two things that can change in those situations: them or us. Either they change themselves for better or worse or we make a decision whether we stay or leave for ourselves. I would say HT’s situation belongs in that last category where he is at this mental crossroad of trying to be separate from his family but also not being able to quite see it through.

Which brings me to another detail that got me thinking in the latest chapter. The issue of HC’s view on Mr. He that has been brought up before in the comic already (ch. 252, 348):

I think when it comes to their father and family in general, HC and HT are in very different kinds of mental positions. As the older son, HC has been subjected to the teachings and principles of their father for longer. I’m not sure if I would say he’s internalized them as such, but he has at least accepted them as a way to live his life. As an older brother, he has also naturally fallen into the role of responsibility a lot more than HT. He hasn’t had the position and freedom to rebel like HT has.

So, when HC tries to defend their father to HT, I think it’s wise to take his “background” into account. I’m not saying he’s lying when he believes their father does care about HT, but I think his disposition as the older brother makes him somewhat biased.

And yet...

And yet, I’m curious about how the new chapter brought this issue up again. Whenever HT accuses their father of just seeing his sons as pawns for his own gain, HC always seems genuinely taken aback by the outburst and how HT is talking about their father. The way HC said HT will “understand in the future” especially piqued my curiosity. Does HC know something about their father that HT doesn’t? Something that could - if not justify - then at least begin to explain his apparent ruthlessness? If that was explained to HT, would there be a chance that he would be less declined to join whatever his family is doing? I would even go as far as asking is HT waiting for a reason that would make thinking about his family less painful if there was something behind it all? Is it possible that HT had learned something like that by the time of the Christmas specials?

Now, that would be interesting.

Overall, I do get why it would feel like a setback in HT’s character development if he indeed ends up working for his family. But personally, I would be more interested in the complexity and realism of him being a part of both good (MGS and their relationship) and bad (the family business) at the same time. In my opinion, including the idea that life is much more complicated and grey-shaded than noble ideals would be really interesting to see.

Thank you for your question and ponderings, dear anon!

[chaseatinydream]

snakes, cats and dogs || c.s (atz)

➵ pairing: reader x choi san (ateez)

➵ word count: 2831

➵ genre: hogwarts au; rivals to lovers

➵ synopsis: at the rate things are going, hogwarts is going to become a zoo

>>>

You don’t think it’s a secret to anyone that you hate Choi San.

Alright, perhaps hate would be too strong of a word. Choi San is annoying. He pisses you off. He’s like a pesky little fly that buzzes in your ear and lands in your soup but you can never catch, he’s just that.

Annoying.

Really, really annoying.

You sigh, shaking back the sleeves of your robes to look at the time. A glance at the watch sitting on your left wrist tell you that it’s time for prefect patrol, getting up from the plush leather seats of the common room, you bid the Giant Squid goodbye with a weary wave as it slinks past the windows, basked in the ghostly green glow.

Stepping out of the doorway, you tuck your hands into your pockets, the dungeons can get a little chilly, especially at night, and you’re not in the mood to catch a cold at this time of the year. There are exams to be taken and you can’t afford to fall sick now. With a soft hum, you head to the Great Hall to meet up with the other prefect on duty tonight.

Tonight, Kim Hongjoong is waiting for you with a cup of hot chocolate in hand, feet swinging back and forth gently, perched on very end of the Ravenclaw table, bundled up in a warm knitted blue scarf. The sixth year is one of your good friends, having started off as a good mentor for your studies, as uncommon as inter-house friendships sounded.

He waves warmly the second he sees you step into the Great Hall with a soft, secretive smile, the massive school is entirely quiet and empty, completely yours. There’s magical feeling in the air when your footsteps echo in the silence of the hall, the air so often filled with chatter and laughter now hushed and drowsy with slumber.

“Good night to you.” Hongjoong raises his mug in some sort of greeting and you laugh quietly, taking a seat on the bench next to him. He slides a cup over to you as well and you sip it, letting the sweet warmth spread from the tip of your tongue down to your toes. “It’s cold. Didn’t you bring a scarf?”

“I didn’t think I would have Apparated to the North Pole the second I left the Common Room, but by then I was too lazy to go back and get it.” You shrug and Hongjoong chuckles, he’s used to your careless attitude. “I’m alright. I’ll just finish up patrol, head back to the dorms and defrost in front of the fireplace before I go to bed. Anyways, I’m sure running after him will get my body temperature up.”

At the sheer thought of him, your face pulls into a scowl.

Hongjoong winces in sympathetically. “That kid still giving you the run for your money, huh?”

“He’s so... ugh!” You complain, slamming your mug down on the table for added impact. Luckily for you, it’s already completely empty, its contents having all gone down your throat. “I just spot him sneaking out in the corridors all the time and I’m not fast enough to catch him! He’s as slippery as a snake, honestly!”

An amused smile curves Hongjoong’s lips. “Aren’t you a Slytherin too? Moreover, didn’t you use to slip out at night after curfew too last year?”

You pause, scowling, it’s too late for your mind to be working at this hour. “I... yeah, but I’m supposed to be a prefect now. It’s... it’s a pride thing. If he keeps escaping me it’s like a taunt in my face. I’ve never even seen him do anything, but he’s just there.”

Hongjoong does laugh this time, his melodious voice ringing throughout the Great Hall.

“Alright. How about we get to patrol fast so you don’t become a walking icicle by the time you return to bed?” He raises a chocolate warmed hand to pinch your cheek playfully and you laugh, batting his hand away, your bad mood instantly gone. “I take the eastern side and you take the other?”

“Howdy, Future Head Boy.” You salute and he pushes you in the arm with a laugh, you set down the mug; the house elves will clear it later for you. The two of you get up and start walking out of the Hall, Hongjoong making small talk with you about Transfiguration and the latest Quidditch match. After he makes you promise to attempt to stop San from sabotaging the semifinals (Ravenclaw against Hufflepuff), you wave and part ways.

The hallways are ghostly silent as usual, and by that you mean deathly silent aside from the mad cackling of Peeves in one of the upper classrooms. With a sigh, you slide a hand into your pocket to rest on your wand, ready to cast an Obscurio charm on the poltergeist in case he’s round the next bend. Slytherins aren’t known for being resourceful for nothing, and you guess that you’re one of the only people to know that the blinding spell works on ghosts as well.

Making your usual rounds, you scale the stairs, careful to make sure that the whimsical staircases aren’t about to move before hopping up the steps as fast as you can. And just as your foot touches the floor, you hear the groan of the staircase moving behind you; there goes your fastest way back to the dorms. With a sigh, wishing that you’d thought to bring a scarf, you step forward... and hear a strange, muffled noise.

You frown.

Pulling out your wand with cold numbed fingers, you move towards the noise, you’ve heard the basilisk stories and whatnot about werewolf professors. While you’re pretty confident in your dueling capabilities, having been invited to join the Dueling Club in your third year, you don’t want to risk anything. So, warily, you inch closer and closer to the end of the corridor, the shadows being cast by the windows in the light of the full moon really aren’t helping your paranoia, and you keep Protego on the tip of your tongue, ready to blast a Shield Charm at the first sight of danger as you round the corner-

“Woof!”

Huh?

You poke your head around the pillar and make a face, to your surprise, it’s a Shiba Inu sitting there, tail wagging excitedly. Your stare continues even as it barks a joyous little sound and runs circles around you, tongue lolling out - you’re pretty sure dogs are not on the list of approved pets in Hogwarts, and that you should report it to the teachers immediately, but...

But you’ve always had a massive weakness for dogs, and from the way this one keep pawing your legs excitedly, it likes you too! You can’t help but feel your heart fill with warmth.

“Hey there, little guy.” You murmur, getting on one knee to crouch in front of the dog, immediately it licks your hand vigorously, barking the entire time. It rubs its head against your palm and nuzzles its snout into the folds of your robes, as if searching for treats. “How did you get here?”

“Woof!” The dog barks brightly in reply, and unluckily for you, you don’t speak a word of dog. However, lady fortune shines upon to you tonight, there’s a noise down the hallway you’d just come down and you rise to your feet instantly, wand already out even before you realise.

“Shiber?” You hear a voice calling, and to your glee (and perhaps annoyance) you realise that it’s Choi San’s voice. Then you frown and glance down at the Shiba Inu at your feet, who’s still panting happily and looking up at you. Why on earth is San looking for his cat at this hour of the night?

You ignore it, however, and merely wait for your prey to round the corner. Finally you will catch him, finally you can stop running after him, and finally-

The dog runs out and you barely manage to fight down your gasp, berating the dog mentally for startling you, but before you can get upset, you hear San cry out in happiness.

“Shiber! Thank goodness I found you!” He says, sounding relieved and there’s a series of short barks in reply, and to say you’re confused is an understatement. You wrack your mind, desperately, trying to pull the frazzled pieces of your mind together, it’s eleven at night and it’s too cold for this. Isn’t Shiber a cat?

“Why did you run away, huh?” San’s voice turns scolding now and you keep silent, still utterly confused about this. You’re pretty sure San either had some wrong mushrooms at dinner or he’s just plain sleepwalking right now, until you hear the next words that leave his lips. “What would have happened if any of the professors were walking around at night and found out that you’re actually a dog, Shiber?”

For a second, you simply make a face, mind trying to fire its remaining cylinders in the cold. And then your mouth falls open, and it clicks.

Shiba Inu. Shiber. Shiba Inu. Shiber. It makes so much sense now.

“Choi San, you have a dog?” You say, incredulously as you round the corner. San almost leaps five feet into the air in shock, as if you’re Sirius Black out for his blood, with an incriminating Shiber clutched tightly to his chest. Now that you look at the Shiba Inu a little more clearly, you can see where the coloring of its fur matches that of its feline form, the coat is of the same shade, the ears twitch in exactly the same way. ”Oh my god, that’s some high level Transfiguration skills right there-”

Before you can say another word, San pins you to the wall, one hand pressed urgently against your mouth and you make a noise of protest, smacking his arm hard indignantly. “Yah!”

“Shh!” He hushes you immediately, glancing around warily as if looking out for something. Of course you don’t listen to him - what does he think he’s doing - opting instead for flailing about in a bid to get free but he’s too strong, deceptively lean arms hiding well toned biceps and forearms.

“You can’t just do this to your house prefect!” You protest against his palm, the sentence coming out more like a garbled string of incomprehensible noises rather than anything resembling real words. He ignores you, you feel your fury spike up and you’re ready to stab him in the eye with your wand when he turns to look at you, he’s very close, way too close.

“Shh! What if a teacher walks past?” He whispers fiercely into your ear, a scowl replacing his usual, devil-may-care grin. You give him and death glare and kick him in the kneecap, but he doesn’t budge in the least. Rolling your eyes, you lean away as far as you can from him, there’s nowhere to go but the warmth of his forearm cushioning your back from the stone wall, it burns through your thin robes and an unwilling flush rises to your cheeks.

“Then you’ll get detention like you should!” You hiss in reply, trying to wriggle out of his grip. “And then get into trouble for bringing a dog into school, like you’re supposed to!”

San’s face go white the second those words leave your mouth, than to your absolute shock he grabs your hands pleadingly, wringing them back and forth with a frantic look on his face.

“You can’t tell.”

“What can’t I tell?” You grumble, suddenly immensely awkward, you weren’t expecting him to do this in the least, and immediately contrive to extricate yourself from the social train wreck as fast as possible. “Choi San. Choi San, let go of me!”

“You can’t tell the professors.” San says almost desperately, subconsciously pressing forward in his distress, and you make a face as you try to back away, whoa, whoa, whoa, personal bubble, boy! “Please!”

“I’m a prefect, I can’t just let you get away with stuff like that.” You snap, still trying to pull away from him. “What, the worst thing they can do is send Shiber back to your parents, it’s not like the school will turn him into hot dog or something-”

“They won’t.” San tells you, and for the first time you hear the edge of desperation and sheer, undiluted fear in his voice, his hand gripping your impossibly tight. “But my parents will.”

It’s no secret to the whole school that Choi San is practically nobility, even among the Slytherins. He’s the only son borne of a marriage between two aristocratic families. Power, prestige, wealth, he has it all, and even his money has its own prestige, it’s old money, businesses and trades that have been passed down the generations. And his parents wouldn’t take care of one dog?

“Wait.” You pause, giving him a confused look. “You mean... your parents didn’t give you the dog? How did you get it?”

“I rescued him from Hogsmeade.” He says, finally removing his hands from you, belatedly, you realise that you miss the warmth of his hands, goosebumps immediately racing across your skin where his skin once touched yours. “It was winter of our third year, and I found him in an alleyway behind Knockturn Alley, freezing and starving to death. I figured his previous owner must have abandoned him, so I brought him back with me to the castle... they aren’t allowed in the school, so I transfigured him to look like a cat... but he still barks sometimes and-”

“Explains your weird ass cat.” You realise, unable to believe how long you’ve been fooled for two whole years. “You mean this kind of Transfiguration in Year Three? All on your own?”

San at least has the conscience to look a little guiltily, scratching at his head awkwardly. “Well I... I did ask Mcgonagall to give me advanced lessons meant for the Year Sixes, that’s how I-”

You hold up a hand, sighing. “Okay, okay, I get it, you’re genius.” San opens his mouth to protest but then you crouch in front of Shiber, who’s still barking cheerfully, one hand coming up to scratch the fur around the ruff of his neck. “You say your parents won’t take him in? Then what do you do during winter break when you go back to your home?”

“Not home, house.” San corrects you immediately, a dark shadow crossing his face the second the words pass his lips and you feel a twinge of sympathy. Even for a Half Blood (one of the only to ever get in Slytherin, you might add) yourself, you've heard of the notoriety of the nobles and are lucky not to be one of them yourself. “Wooyoung takes him back with him to his family in the Muggle world but...” He pauses, looking slightly upset. “I don’t want to cause more trouble to his family than I already have...”

Slytherins are well known for being skilled in getting others to do what they want through any means possible. Whether it be emotional manipulation, underhanded, subtle pressurizing or completely shameless, full blown threatening, the means don’t matter, only the end. The lot of you are Slytherins, after all, and to each his own. San might be just trying to play you along like a puppet on a string, but still, you have nothing to lose by allowing him to keep his pet (you do have a weak spot for the small cat... uhh, dog).

However, you can’t just let this opportunity slide past you, it’s simply not in your nature to do so. “Well...” You drag out the word, pretending to consider this carefully and rubbing your chin. “I can’t just let you get away with doing something like this...” Your sentence trails off meaningfully and San’s eyes widen minutely, before he pauses to look at you more carefully with a guarded expression.

“What do you want from me?” He asks cautiously. Will it be money, an invitation to one of those prestigious galas that his parents host but he never wants to go to, or something even more exorbitant? Instead, you shrug carelessly. He’s a Slytherin, you’re a Slytherin. The two of you are birds of the same feather, or well, in this case, snakes of the same scale, and he knows that no Slytherin will ever in their right mind do a favour for a stranger without a reward.

“Nothing at the moment. How about you owe me a favor?” You say, with a cheeky grin, fingers reaching down to stroke your fingers through the dog’s fur. San takes a moment to think, looking down at Shiber, the dog barks happily and wags its tail at its master.

The he sighs, nods and turns to you. “Fine.” You smile triumphantly, hold out your hand, a grin playing on your lips.

“Deal?”

“Deal.”

And that’s the beginning of it all.

[thiswasinevitableid]

Back in Time (Indruck superhero AU)

This was based on a prompt requested by several folks on the Indruck discord, and is set in the same universe as “The Thrilling Adventures of the Green Knight,” taking place some time after “Aww, Rats.”  It deals with memory loss, so if that’s a no-go for you this is one to skip.

Duck Newton is proud of how far his boyfriend has come. How a man who was once, in his own words, “a hissing, scheming villain” now dedicates his life to protecting the city of Kepopolis, fights side by side with Duck to keep their home, their city, and their friends safe. 

But sometimes, he wishes the self-preservation instinct that ruled him as a villain made more appearances. If it did, Duck might not be sitting outside the med bay of the hideout, jiggling his knee while he waits for news. Indrid might not have thrown himself in front of the blast from Dr. Amig Dahlias’ newest invention. 

Duck might be unconscious in the med bay instead, but he’ll take that outcome any day.

The door slides open and Dani pokes her head out, “He’s waking up.”

“Oh thank fuck.” He rushes inside, takes Indrid’s hand as the silver-haired man groans and shifts on the cot. 

“S’okay sugar, you’re in the base, everyone is safe, just take it easy.”

Red eyes blink open. Then stay that way, wide and scanning the room.

“I...I am glad everyone is safe. That is good. But, ah, I, I…” he turns to look at Duck, “I’m sorry, I do not know who any of you are.”

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

“Is it permanent?” Duck corners Dr. Octavius the minute he’s out of the room. The doctor is one of the best when it comes to dealing with damage from supers of all kinds. 

“I’m not sure. That blast he was hit with dealt a massive blow to his memory; as far as I can tell, he can’t remember anything from his past. Not his childhood, not his time as a villain, not all of you. I don’t know if this was the intended result, but the blast also severely dampened his precognition; his powers are functionally dormant.”

“Fuck.”

Dr. Octavius sets a hand on his shoulder; they’ve known each other a long time, he’s been patching Duck up since his days with the Chosen Squad. Some childish part of Duck’s brain had hoped he could make Indrid better, the way he always made Duck. 

“It may not be permanent, and I think the chances are good the memories are all suppressed, rather than gone. I’ll consult with some colleagues to see what can be done.”

“Thanks, Doc. Is he okay? I mean, uh, is he scared or anythin?”

“Mainly confused, which is understandable.”

“Yeah. Yeah. Thanks.” He waves as the man departs, then grabs his phone. Maybe there’s someone else who can help. 

Dr. Mwangi arrives a half hour later; she’s Indrid’s therapist and, like Dr. Nelson, the vet, she’s one of the few people in Kepopolis whose office is neutral territory. She helps supers of all alignments, and Indrids’ flashbacks are more easily handled since he started seeing her. 

“Just...do you think there’s anythin I can do to help him remember?”

“Any photographs, items of emotional significance from his past or present, those might help bring some memories back to the surface. Maybe taking him places that he’s fond of, or where important things happened. And I agree with you all that keeping all the super hero business quiet for now, as it could be completely overwhelming. Other than that, all we can be is patient. Is he staying with you?”

“Yeah. Our place is the safest, thanks to all the security he installed, so if word gets out where we live or that he’s incapacitated in some way, no one’ll be able to get in and hurt him.”

“That’s good. But I was more concerned with the need for him to be with someone he trusts. Even if he doesn’t remember you, I suspect he’ll feel safe with you.”

Duck looks into the other room, where Indrid is chatting with Aubrey (“I have a niece? That’s wonderful”). 

“God, I hope so.”

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

“You are...my boyfriend?”

“Yeah” Duck is fighting to keep a gentle smile on his face, to not crumple at the lack of recognition in Indrid’s eyes, “we been together almost two years.”

“You seem very nice. And handsome. I must be very lucky.”

“Here we are.�� Duck flips on the lights, shuts the door and arms it, “home sweet home.”

“This is love--OH, oh hello.” Indrid smiles as Chicken runs up to them, demanding her dinner, “who is this.”

Duck’s heart twists with disappointment for the three-hundreth time that day; he keeps hoping the next thing they encounter will be the one to jog Indrid’s memory.

“That’s Chicken.”

“She’s so charming. I had no idea cats could be hairless.”

Duck nods with a tight smile, is digging out the new bag of cat food when Indrid chirps with delight. 

“Rats! You have rats!” His face is pressed to one of the boxes of Ratopia, his mischief of five scurrying up to greet him, “I love rats, they are so clever and resourceful.”

“They’re, uh, they’re more yours than mine. They missed you, see?” He opens the nearest door on the enclosure and five furry little bodies run out, squeaking for treats and attention. Void clambers up Indrid’s body like a black comet, letting out indignant noises when he finds Indrids coat without it’s usual special pocket for his “heart rat.” Indrid scoops Void into his hands, studying him. 

“I am sorry, little ones. You seem to know me, but I don’t know you. I would like to, though.”

“You, uh, you wanna spend some time with them while I get dinner goin?”

“Yes, please.”

Duck starts water on the stove, pulls down the box of pasta, when Indrid speaks from behind him. 

“The same applies to you, you know. I do not know you, Duck Newton.”

The box crunches in half in his hands

“But I would very much like to.”

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

It’s been three weeks, and Indrid’s memory shows no signs of returning. Duck tries to hold onto hope, tries looking on the bright side, but it all turns to rubble when he feels the empty space beside him in bed, makes a comment or reference only for Indrid to blink in confusion. 

There is one bright spot, which is that Indrid insists Duck starts their courtship over. He’s adamant that he wants to build up to dating Duck again, that he clearly has met someone wonderful and is not about to let a little bout of amnesia get in the way, thank you very much. 

So Duck takes him on date after date, finding some happiness in watching Indrid experience things he enjoys for a second-first-time. They get Gelato, Mrs. Nguyen shooting Duck a puzzled look when Indrid asks to sample several flavors, rather than ordering his usual Blue Moon with marshmallow sauce on top. They go to the movies, the zoo, to one of Aubrey’s magic shows, and all the while Duck keeps his hands glued into his pockets; Indrid is still learning to be comfortable with him, and he will not so much as brush a hair from his face unless he’s sure it’s what he truly wants. 

When Indrid takes his hand as they’re walking out of a movie, Duck tears up with embarrassing speed. 

Today, they’re in the Monongahela, Duck taking Indrid on the lake loop. As they round a patch of reeds, the taller man points out onto the sparkling water. 

“What kind of ducks are those?”

“Wood Ducks” he replies softly, then laughs to himself, “you must really like ‘em, they were one of the first things you ever, uh, ever asked me about.”

“Really? I suppose that makes sense, their coloration is stunning.”

“Yeah.” Duck watches the two birds paddling on the water; he can’t be certain, but he thinks they’re the same mated pair that fascinated Indrid two years ago. The memory of Indrid, voice curious and shy rather than taunting, asking Duck what the bird was over the phone makes him ache down to his neurons. 

“I’m sorry, Duck. I know this cannot be easy on you.” Indrid is watching him through his slightly tinted tortoiseshell glasses, “to have to wait for me to fall in love with you again.”

“‘Drid” Duck takes him by his shoulders so they’re face to face, “I can’t lie for shit, so I ain’t gonna say I don’t wake up everyday hopin you remember me. But what I want outta all of this is for you to be happy, to have whatever kind of life feels right to you. Even if we don’t end up together in it or I, uh, I ain’t in at all.”

Strangely, Indrid smiles, soft and bright, as the admission hangs between them. Then he cups Duck’s cheek and leans down, kissing Duck so lightly that it’s only the sensation of too-cold hands on his skin that let’s Duck know he isn’t dreaming. 

“Wha-”

“It just felt right.” Indrid smiles wider, and holds a little tighter, wondering if this is it.

His phone rings, the tone that signals “shits going down, suit up.”

“Fuck.” He grabs it, brings it to his ear “go for Duck”

“It’s the fucking White Star boys again. They’re threatening to set off a bomb from the top of the GreenBriar Mall and are causing a major scene downtown.” From the sound of it, Barclay is driving as he talks. 

“Fuck, okay, lemme get Indrid somewhere safe and I’ll be right there.”

“Somewhere safe? Duck, what’s going on.” Indrid pulls his sweater around himself

“Long story, swear to fuckin god I’ll tell you later, now come on.” They run back to the car and Duck floors it out onto the highway. The nearest safehouse is close to the mall, so he can drop Indrid there, change, and go help his friends. 

This plan goes up in a literal cloud of smoke as cylinder hits the hood of the car, releasing a black cloud and causing Duck to careen into a fire hydrant. 

“Guess we’re closer to the whole mess than I thought.” He grumbles, grabbing his spare mask from the glove box and ripping off his shirt to reveal his hero garb underneath, “you okay?”

“Not really, as we just crashed and there is a lot of yelling happening outside.”

Duck takes his hand, “It’s probably obvious, but I’m a superhero, and a bunch of dipshits are tryin to blow up innocent folks. Stay close to me, I’ll try’n get you somewhere safe and come find you after this is taken care off.”

Indrid does not look convinced, holds onto Duck’s hand like he’ll be sucked up into space if he lets go. 

“It’ll be okay, ‘Drid. I promise.”

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

He focuses on Duck’s hand as they run, as if the link between them is enough to keep him safe. The chaos around them, the shouting and dust and disaster in the air, it all feels familiar. Then again, of his boyfriend is a superhero, maybe Indrid’s been in this situation before. 

Duck’s fingers are ripped from his own as the hero is tackled by a bulked-up man with a white star on his back. They two grapple on the ground, rolling out of sight in the surrounding smoke. Before he can call out, pain shatters through the back of his head and he hits the ground, pavement scraping his hands. He flips over, finds another starred man sneering down at him. 

“There you are. We all had bets going on whether the good doctor killed you with that ray.”

“I” Indrid scrambles back on his hands, head ringing too hard for him to stand up, “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Don’t play dumb, Cold. Everyone knows where the Knight is, you’re right behind him like some weird fucking shadow.”

“I’m not, I swear, please, I have no idea what’s going on.”

The man hits a button on his belt, and a short staff, covered in what looks like sci-fi barbed wire, springs into his hand. 

“Let me tell you, then: you’re a pain in the ass, and I’m going to enjoy killing you.”

“Wait, please” his hand connects with something cold, and his fingers tell him it’s a bit of broken pipe. 

“Oh yeah, it’s gonna be fun to squash you like the bug you are.”

Indrid watches him raise the weapon. His fingers curl around the pipe. 

And he lets instinct take over.

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

Most of the mob scatters as soon as Aubrey gets the smoke under control, but some of the more determined White Star Boys put up a fight. Duck throws one off of him, turns towards the commotion of two more fighting-

Oh fuck.

“Indrid!” He runs towards the melee, then skids to a stop as his boyfriend takes one down with a skilled, precise blow to the head. The lands a cut on his cheek with a Bowie knife and Indrid snarls, whirling to break the offending hand and knocking the man’s head to the side with the lead pipe he’s using as a staff. 

The man goes down, hands weakly covering his face, and Indrid hits him again. And again. 

“Moth, for fucks sake, stop! He’s down, you don’t gotta kill him!”

Indrid locks eyes with Duck, tilts his blood-spattered head to the side.

“You have the wrong villain, hero. I am The Sword. And you are in my way.”

Indrid lunges and Duck braces to take the hit that never comes. There’s hissing and cursing from above him, and he looks up to see Indrid trapped in red light.

“I came to help the Lady Flame” The Quell regards Indrid with sorrowful eyes, “but it seems we have a far worse problem than those little  power-mad stars.”

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

“He’s much quieter than his brother” Stern stands outside the Pine Guard holding cell with Duck, while Indrid sits calming inside, eyes shut as if in sleep, “The Flame monologues whenever he gets a chance.”

“Of all the goddamn parts of his life to remember” Duck clonks his head into the wall. 

“I called every specialist on our roster; the consensus is that one of the white star boys must have attacked him. In moments of that kind of intense stress and fear, sometimes people revert back to what they first learned. In Indrid’s case, it was his training to be the perfect villain.”

Duck grunts in acknowledgement, keeps his head on the wall so he doesn’t have to look at the man he loves reverted to his worst instincts. 

“I promise we’ll take good care of him until our next move becomes clear.”

“Thanks, Joe.”

The agent takes a final look through the glass, “We’ll get him back somehow. Come on, I’ll walk you out.”

They’ve just reached the parking lot when alarms sound and lights flash, Joe’s communicator ringing like mad. He looks at it and blanches. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Indrid got out?” It’d be the perfect, shitty cap to a perfectly shitty day.

“Yes. Do you want me to call in back-up?”

Duck shakes his head, “No. I was real good at huntin’ down the Moth. Think I can find The Sword the same way.”

He doesn’t add, as Joe wishes him good luck, that he has a horrible feeling he already knows where Indrid is. 

Unlocking the apartment door, he takes two steps before his own SmartWhips close around his torso and arms. Indrid steps out of the hall, grinning at him.

Duck sighs, “Yeah. That’s why I figured.”

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

Indrid studies the trapped hero, wondering if he should ask him the main question  on his mind, which is whether this location they’ve been pretending is an apartment is Indrid’s hide-out or his. He’s been searching it for twenty minutes and even with his foresight back he cannot tell. He did find his staffs, smart glasses that are confusingly red rather than silver, and a set of wings he knows are based on a prototype of his. 

But that is not the most important question to his mission. 

“Where is The Flame?”

Duck shakes his head, “Not tellin you. You were the smartest villain I ever faced, Indrid, and I don’t doubt you could bust him out no problem. But you and I both know you don’t want that.”

“It is my duty to free my partner. It is for the best.”

“Is it really? You honestly tellin me you wouldn’t be happier far, far away from that brother of yours?”

Indrid forces his face to stay calm, but his guts twist; how could Duck know how often he wishes Apollo would go on a mission and never come back, or just leave him be for a few days so he could do something, anything other than villainy.

“You know nothing of my brother.”

“The last time he saw you, he tried to blow you up, tortured me, and then tried to kill in some weird trainin arena. He’s a cruel, egotistical dipshit.” 

“That...that sounds exactly like him. Very well, maybe you do know what you are talking about. So tell me where he is, and I will not be forced to get the information from you another way.”

Duck squirms, afraid, but stays silent. Indrid hauls his to his feet.

“Tell me where he is.”

“No. Let him rot, it’s what he deserves.”

“What he deserves is immaterial. What matters is he will get out one way or another and if he does it without my help he will-”

Duck gives a knowing look. Indrid huffs, drops him back to the ground. 

“Nevermind.”

“He’ll hit you with that lightning rod of his? Or threaten to drown you, like he did that time in, uh, in Kansas City?”

“Would you kindly shut up so I can think?” Indrid turns on his heel, begins pacing. Duck knows a great deal, which means Indrid must have confided in him at some point, likely before he lost his memory. Maybe he was interrogated by him? But even then it doesn’t make sense; Indrid can withstand any kind of torture. Well, almost any kind.

Why on earth did he tell the hero those things?

He spots the rat run, the little black one (Void, that was what Duck called him) sending demanding squeaks his way through the plexiglass. Indrid leans down, touching his fingertip to the glass to mirror the placement of the rat’s paw.

“I wonder if I could take you with me. Doubtless you would make a skilled minion.”

“‘Drid, the scariest thing he’s ever done is wear those glasses that make him look like a giant monster rat to scare off intruders.”

“What part of ‘shut up’ was unclear, chivalrous one?” Indrid glances over his shoulder, finds the hero sitting up with a hopeful expression.

“That nickname. ‘Drid, it’s the first time you called me that since you lost your memory. Do you remember anythin’ else about that name, about why you call me it?”

He thinks, gets flashes of images that he’s certain are the past, not the future; Duck, the Green Knight, throwing him out a window, chasing him from warehouses, trapping him in those blasted SmartWhips. Oh yes, he remembers him now.

“You. You are my nemesis.” 

“Uh, I was, but-”

Indrid laughs, high and sharp to cover the disappointment in his chest, “Oh that is diabolical. I lose my memory and what do you all do? You put me in the hands of my nemesis, convince me that I had a life with someone who cared for me as if that could change my nature. Not even I could concoct a plan that cruel, chivalrous one.”

“Indrid, please, you gotta remember the rest.”

“I do not need to do any such thing. But it does change what I do with you.” He stalks forward, wrenching Duck up by his hair. 

The whips close around his wrists, trapping them together. 

“Let me go this instant!”

“No can do, sugar. I ain’t gonna fight you, but I ain’t gonna let you hurt me, or anyone else.”

“You” Indrid sees the explanation coming, “you stole one of my smart picks! You are as bad as Apollo is!”

“Trust me, I ain’t.”

Indrid tries to hurl him against the counter, but Duck holds fast, causing the villain to simply unfurl the whip some. The hero giggles, quiet at first, then growing louder.

“Christ, it’s like fuckin deja vu, you and me bein like this. At least I did it on purpose this time.”

The villain is about to snap that there’s nothing funny about being trapped with one’s nemesis. Then the memory comes, he and Duck taken from enemies to allies in an instant as they tried to undo the malfunctioning smartwhip trapping them together. The night, about a week later, when Duck sent a spy B.U.G just to make sure Indrid wasn’t too badly hurt from a fight. 

The Green Knight, looking after the Moth as if he was a friend, not a villain. 

The Moth. He’s the Moth.

He surges forward, slamming his lips against Ducks mouth. The hero gasps, bound hands gripping the front of Indrid’s black shirt.

“My love, my love, Duck, I’m sorry, I am so sorry, one moment, I can get us unraveled.” He kisses him again, his mind and body registering the full weight of almost a month without his hero’s touch.

“Please tell me this means what I think it does” he mumbles into Indrid’s mouth.

“It does my love. More or less. Things are not coming back in a linear fashion, but it feels as if my memories have all awakened and will be in order eventually. I, I feel like myself, my full self, again.”

“Thank sweet baby christ, fuck” Duck huddles close, shoulders shaking, “didn’t know how much longer I could stay calm, you’re fuckin terrifyin  when you want to be.”

“Oh, oh dear, apologies” The whips drop to the ground, “I did not remember, I, I was more lethal, more willing slash and burn when I was The Sword, I never wanted you to be on the receiving end of that, oh goodness, I’m so sorry, my sweet.” He holds Duck to him, buries his face in his hair when he thinks of what he might have done.

“You’re back.” Duck presses a kiss to his neck, “you’re back. That’s all that matters, fuck, I missed you so much.”

Indrid shuts his eyes, holds fast to the man who makes his mind sing “home” with every beat of his heart.

“I missed you too, chivalrous one.”

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

Dr. Amig Dahlia prowls towards her laboratory. The Pine Guard brought her latest scheme crashing down, and it’s high time to make them all into blank slates, the way she did with the meddlesome Moth. At least he’s still nowhere to be found.”

“Hello, doctor.”  

Seated directly in front of the memory ray is none other than The Moth. He stands, patting the ray, “this is a very clever device, and had it not made my life, and the lives of others, miserable, I might applaud you for it. As it is, I am here to demand you disable it, and turn yourself in.”

“Last I checked, my ray didn’t damage your intelligence, so that idiotic idea must be all yours.”

The Moth cocks his head, “Is that a no?”

In answer, she steps forward, pressing in the sequence to arm the device. 

The hero stays put, right in it’s path, “firing on me will not end well. I  modified your device while you were distracted by my teammates. It will backfire when you pull the trigger”

“Nice try,but you’ll need a more convincing lie to get out of this one.” The lights on the side of the ray turn green. 

The wide smile changes, all ice and edges, “Before you make your choice, consider this; Because of you, I almost hurt the man I love.”

She rolls her eyes, touches the trigger, and white light explodes all around her.

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

“What did you do to that ray?” Duck stands next to him as they watch medics help a sobbing Amig Dahlia into an ambulance. 

“In addition to reversing the direction of the energy, I changed how it interacts with memory; instead of blanketing them over it pulls certain ones out and plays them on repeat. Namely, it pulls out those memories one would most like to forget.”

“Jesus.”

“Believe it or not, the futures show this being an exercise in empathy. The effects are not permanent, and when she comes out of them she will swear off villainy and move to Key West.”

He does not add that this seems a fitting quid pro quo for the fact recovering from her device means memories of his childhood appear without warning more than they usually do.

Duck is no longer beside him. There’s a metallic crack, and the hero drops the two halves of the ray on the ground. 

“Just to be safe.”

“A wise idea, chivalrous one.”

They finish up at the hidden lab, and the Moth and The Green Knight disappear into the Pine Guard base. Twenty minutes later, Indrid Cold and Duck Newton step inside their home. It’s warm and comfortable, bustling with love and promise. 

Just like Indrid remembers.