#if I had the motivation to go back and rewrite everything from the beginning I would

[askblueandviolet]

This is a passive rant that I think needed to be said, haha.

DF (Admin): I think the most silly thing about writing Blue and Violet is the fact that I am barely keeping track of anything I have written.

I cannot, for the life of me, remember what and what I have not actually written so far in the series in terms of character exploration with Macaque and Mayor (what they have done, what they think, what they feel, and actual full out sentences on what they think about each other and other characters- the literal development of the Shadowpuppet relationship. Have I actually written enough scenes to develop the relationship for it to actually move onto this point in the story or is it not enough? Or is it too much actually?). Like have I actually mentioned or elaborated on these things and actually wrote it into the series? Or was it all on my head, or in my notes app, or a rant in the comment section? I don't know.

So I sit here staring at the next chapter, the current draft, and I contemplate if I have actually written everything I needed to write to build up to this chapter. And I do this with every single chapter. But especially this one, because this one is... Is something. There's stuff in here I want to keep in here but... I don't know if... It makes sense to write it, because, have... Have I actually written enough context to lead up to that point? Because all of that context is already in my head but I don't know-

I want to blame this on my poor memory, but I also think it's a little bit because of my poor dedication as the literal writer to keep track of everything that's been going on in the series so far, and everything that is supposed to happen in the future of it. How silly of me.

So I guess what I'm trying to say is: if any of you have spotted any inconsistencies, or if the pacing is off, or if some things seemed to have come out of the blue with no actual build up or prior elaboration... It's because of this. My silly brain, forgetting what has been mentioned in the fic series and what hasn't.

If any of you read this, thanks I guess XDDD. Enjoy this warning/apology.

[blublublujk]

bound 2 (falling in love)

oneshot

word count: 6.5k

genre: fwb to lovers

pairing: yoongi x reader

summary:

You and Yoongi were okay with being friends with benefits... until you weren't.

warnings: i tried to focus on fluff (did you catch it or did i fail), explicit sexual content; unprotected sex (they make love to each other), choking and breath play (hello it's yoongi), multiple orgasms, slight overstimulation, crying (is it really my ff if there's no crying involved), creampie, very cute aftercare and i think that’s all, this is more sweet than anything lol

a.n: believe it or not this wasn't apart of my drafts i wrote this all one night because i couldn't sleep so thank my insomnia for this, it was about time i write about yoongi :D

also i noticed a lot of you are reading it was destiny and love always wins and i wish you guys wouldn't only because i plan to rewrite some of it and continue them at a further time (chaptered ffs are so hard for me rn since i don't have all the time in the world to dedicate myself to them but i promise to be back with those two series) thank you for everyone who takes time to read what i write it really means so much and your comments have been so motivating. thank you so fucking much for 2k notes on good girl, gone bad i havent seen numbers like that ever im so so grateful, thank you from the bottom of my heart. i'll try to be back one or two more times this month and happy late birthday to me hehe <3

—> m.list

—> welcome me on ao3 & twt

—-

It happened again.

Another failed date to add to the sad list of people that simply will never workout for you.

The list was growing longer as months passed. When you started this list, it was barely the start of a very hot summer. Probably the hottest it’s been in years, one can only assume the winter will not be any easier. 

And you were right. Winter was only beginning and it was brutally cold. The streets were moist from the previous night of harsh rainfall. 

What better time to date and settle down than now. When the world gives you rain, settle for the warm arms of a lover.

Unfortunately, you made a grave mistake thinking this would come easy. Ten first dates later and you are still very single and loverless. 

It is not easy to go out during a time like now, suffering at the sight of happy couples and their stupid happy lives. Really, it should disgust you. It used to. The whole concept of devoting your entire life to someone. The need to constantly feel the tender touch of another person. The desire to fall in love and do it all over again, you get it now. At least, you think you do. 

“I don’t think this is gonna work.” The words fall from your mouth in a quiet rush. The man across you sits in silence before he smiles in his loss. 

“Don’t worry, I figured. It seems your mind was elsewhere. I know you don’t want to pursue anything romantically, and that’s fine with me, but is everything okay?” 

Is everything okay? Well currently, yeah you’re okay. As for your heart, it’s heavy and strangely, you feel there’s a hole in your chest and it needs to be filled. That would fix things, you think. You have been single for so long that you forgot what it was like to love and cherish someone. Not that you have ever truly loved or cherished anyone, but you’ve gotten close. If a silly relationship you had in your sophomore year of high school counts. Then yes, you’ve totally been in love. 

“I’m okay. Thanks for asking. I didn’t mean to lead you on, if it ever felt like I did.” The apology seems bitter in your mouth. Another failed fucking attempt. How difficult can dating be? Have you really been this disconnected with the world around you? 

“Don’t stress it! Things happen. I hope you can find what you’re looking for. See you… around?” The man’s understanding response makes you feel worse. Maybe you should consider deleting Tinder and finding love naturally, if that’s still a thing in the contemporary life. 

“Yeah, totally!” And like that you’re off to the next. Giving yourself plenty of time to bathe in your disappointment and miserably cry about your failed attempts at finding what you’ve been missing. Who knew dating could be so difficult?

The walk back home is just as cold as the outcome of today’s date. Your date insisted he could drive you home and if not that then pay for a cab, but you didn’t live too far from the restaurant you both met at. Though he insisted, you figured this walk could refresh you after yet another failure. You were starting to regret it as the cold wind started roughly hitting your skin. Preserving the chilly weather, you genuinely couldn’t wait to get home and wrap yourself in a bundle of warm blankets and comfortable clothes. 

Cold hands struggle to open your door, you blow on them with warm puffs of breaths, soon making your way in and getting comfortable in your humble apartment. 

yoon: you up?

And that, that is what made this harder. The fact that you knew there was someone completely capable of loving and caring for you the way you desired. You have seen it with your own eyes. Every time you ended up in his bed, in his arms, you felt it. Deep down you know something is there and that something beats everything else. Maybe you’re just delusional, but you look for him in everyone else and you hate it. Hate because you will never be anything more than his personal little whore that comes at the sound of his call. 

me: yeah

Normally, you aren’t dry over texts, especially not with him so he’ll see right through you. You’re hoping for once, he can ignore it. 

He won't. 

yoon: you ok?

me: been better

yoon: wanna talk about it?

me: no, i'm ok

yoon: ok, wanna come over? 

Yes, because during a time like this all you want is the comfort and warmth of someone else’s touch and Yoongi has never failed at giving that to you. But he is not yours.

And you are not his. 

me: not feeling well. sorry.

yoon: sick? 

A white lie never hurt anyone. 

me: yeah, throat hurts

yoon: im sorry 

me: it's not your fault maybe another time.

Though you really shouldn’t say that. There should be no next time. That way you don’t suffer any longer and drag him down with you, considering everything you’ve been feeling and dealing with lately. It’s not fair to Yoongi, but especially yourself.

He doesn’t reply anymore and you can’t even hide your disappointment. You aren’t disappointed at him, okay maybe a little bit at him, but mainly yourself and your recently found complicated feelings. 

You and Yoongi started this whole mess a year ago, before you even realized what you truly wanted. It started off with subtle flirting here and there. They say not to mess with coworkers, given that it can complicate things at work and one should never play with their main source of income, but you did it anyway. You are still young and he only made you feel younger, like a teenage girl crushing over her forbidden crush at church. It was silly, but Yoongi made it easy. 

The flirting turned to one thing, then another. 

“We shouldn’t, not here.” Yoongi had you pinned outside the club you both worked at, leaving trails of wet kisses down your throat.

“Five more minutes.” His words were muffled into your skin as his hands explored your body. Yoongi’s touch was always way too soft for his own good and you fell victim to his deadly warmth. 

“If Mr. Kim finds out, he’ll kill us and fire us both.” That was a bit dramatic on your part and you swore you felt the taller smiling against your neck.

Yoongi drops one last kiss on your cheek as his hot breath hits your ear. “Not if I kill him first.”

You gasped, pushing him off you with a quick smack to his chest. “D-Don’t even joke like that.” 

Yoongi just laughed. 

“Okay, okay baby.” The term of endearment fell from his lips too easily and you melted into the dark night. “See you after work?” 

You only nodded, not being able to deny his temporary warmth and sweet presence. Then he dropped a kiss on your lips, leaving you just as quick as when he first found you. You were fucked.

From there, it only got worse for your sake. Your heart could only take so much. 

Really, you should blame things on him. It was his fault you fell in love with him and his stupidly soft hands. It was all his fault! He left you no choice but to love the feel of his lips against your skin, to easily melt under his soft gaze, and find comfort in his unnecessarily warm bed. Yoongi was perfect. Everything you could ever want. 

That’s why it was so fucking hard. Dating was hard enough, but after feeling Yoongi’s intimate touch, you were a complete goner. Though he was far from it, Yoongi touched you like you were his and he would fuck you like a lover would. Kissing and making love to you as if you were the most beautiful woman on Earth. It was all too much. 

Fuck, you really needed to get a grip.

The knock on your door makes you jump from your couch. 

Ten minutes longer and you would have fallen asleep exactly where you were lying. In outside clothes and all. You didn’t even bother taking off the outfit you had carefully planned thinking that this lucky outfit would have finally taken you somewhere. It didn’t. 

“Coming!” There’s not a single person that should be outside your door, especially at this hour. Your feet make their way to the door regardless and the blood from your face drains when you see the person standing behind the door. 

Quickly, you unlock your front door, rushing the taller inside. “Hurry! It’s freezing! What are you doing out here?” 

Yoongi’s cheeks are surely frozen, a pink dust decorates his cheeks and the tip of his nose. It almost makes him look cute. You were far more gone than you imagined. 

He hustles inside, carrying a fairly large brown bag with him. He brought… groceries? 

“Took you long enough.” The taller one makes himself at home, laying his bag on your coffee table. 

“What are you even doing here?” You ask again. 

He ignores you. “Thought you said you were sick. You don’t look very sick?” 

Yoongi looks at you with a questioning look, his eyes wander your outfit and guilt starts eating your insides. 

You cross your arms, an attempt to hide yourself in shame, but what’s done is done. “I- I had plans.” 

“Yeah, I see that.” He simply says, standing awkwardly in your living area. 

If this doesn’t convince you to delete that forsaken app for the sake of your dignity and shameful behavior, you don’t know what will.

“Anyways, w-what brings you here?” 

“Brought you some stuff.” His hand waves over to the bag he carried inside. 

“Stuff?” You question, a bit dumbfounded, planted still in your place.

“Tea, cough drops, some soup I made earlier this week. Oh and flowers.” Yoongi doesn’t seem at all embarrassed or fazed about the situation. Not that he should be, but he speaks with a puff to his chest, as if he wanted to ensure you understood his every word and action. Like any concerned lover would be. As if he was yours and you were his.

Oh.

This was so so bad. For you and your weak heart. Fuck.

“I-“ 

He cuts you off before you even get to speak. “I don’t know if you’ll like it. It’s just some plain seaweed soup. Usually helps me when I’m sick. I’m not sure what flowers you like, or if you even like flowers. Do you? Their tulips. I did a bit of research before. My mom likes tulips. I figured you might like them too.” 

He did research? Double fuck! 

Yoongi was nervously rambling, now he was slightly embarrassed. Pink flushes his cheeks and it wasn’t the weather’s doing this time. 

“Yoongi…” You start breathlessly and in disbelief. 

“What?” He nearly stutters, his hand is shaking. He’s nervous. Who would have thought? 

“Why.” Is all you manage to ask. 

“You were sick.” Is all he replies. As if things were really that simple. What next? Would he come rushing to the hospital if you suddenly fell ill? God forbid, but it was a valid question. 

What was going on? For a second, you entertain the idea. Maybe he fell in love between the blurry lines of this complicated relationship. Were the shared intimate memories too special for him to forget too? You weren’t sure anymore, but what did this all mean? Maybe he loves you, as much as you love him.

Thoughts keep spinning and you wish there was an easier way to turn off your brain. Not now.

“I know, but why? Why all this? Why for me?” Your vulnerability is showing and it makes you feel weak. Maybe your hands are shaking too. 

“I don't understand?” Yoongi searches for the answer in your glossy eyes, he’s tempted to reach out and comfort you. Have you in his hands, but he’s too coward. He doesn’t want you to feel the shiver of his touch right now. His vulnerability peaks through as well. 

Why not you? It’s always going to be you. 

“I-I’m nothing to you.” There’s a shiver again and then you break. 

Yoongi doesn’t care anymore. He’ll consider the consequences later. Right now, none of it matters.

His hands hold your face, ready to wipe the tears that threaten to leak from your precious eyes. He hopes his hands aren't cold anymore from standing outside for so damn long, but he couldn’t stop himself, in his selfishness and all.

His hands shake slightly, trying to stay strong as he lays it all on the table. “Y/N, you’re everything to me.” He whispers, eyes never leaving yours.

You lay your own hands on his, you feel so delicate around him when you wrap warm hands around his cold wrists.

“I-I am?” You ask between sniffles. His hands are still pretty cold, but they’ll soon warm up against your soft skin. Nobody knows how desperately you need to be touched until you are and then it’s like little fireworks spark inside your body. It consumes you in the best way possible.

“Of course. I thought I made that obvious.” His eyes are soft, different to how he typically looks at you, but you’ve seen these same eyes before. They are no stranger. It’s similar to the look he gives you when you catch him staring at you while you are deep in work. He pretends to look away as if he wasn’t admiring you from afar and you pretend that you don’t notice his curious eyes. It’s the same look he has after you both end up in heated makeout sessions, behind the rusty club you both work at. And it’s definitely the same look he has while he settles on top of you, whispering sweet words of praise and promise.

Nothing should feel different but it just does, there’s something in the way he looks down at you that lets you know that everything you’ve been searching for has always been right here. Right where you’ve been all along.

The taller leans in and you freeze struggling to keep your eyes on his. Yoongi’s thumb brushes against your cheek with a soft touch. You were fragile between his hands and he’s willing to do anything to keep his precious flower safe. “Can I kiss you?” 

“Yes. Please.” You whisper back in a hurry, scared that this would be nothing but a dream. It wasn’t time for you to wake up yet.

His eyes zero-in on your lips and then he’s kissing you. It’s not much different from other times. After all, you guys have shared plenty of kisses, probably more than you should have considering you guys were friends with benefits, at most. But this time, the kiss isn’t just a careless lust-filled doing, no this time the kiss is a promise. The promise to never again allow you to question his feelings and intentions towards you. 

If Yoongi has to spend his whole life making this up to you, he simply would because that’s how much you meant to him. He can’t believe he even let this go on for this long. He should have been more clear and careful, but he doesn’t regret a damn thing. Not when he has all the time in the world to repair the time lost. And especially not when his reckless actions led him to this. To you.

Yoongi’s lips are soft and bend with yours with ease. He takes his time, never in a rush. Especially not when he has you in-hand. 

The taller doesn’t escalate the kiss. He keeps it sweet and gentle, like he always has been. “I’m so sorry baby.” 

Kiss.

“For?” 

Kiss.

Yoongi has the whole world in his hands right now as he looks down into the sparkles in your eyes and he’s never been so sure about anything in his life. “For being a fucking idiot.”

Kiss. 

“It’s okay.” A kiss is shared again. “I was an idiot too. I was just scared that you wouldn’t want that with me.” 

“Want what?” The taller questions, fingers trailing your face, admiring the imperfections and all. 

“A relationship, I mean. You seemed content with how our relationship already was. I was afraid of losing that. Of losing you.” You admit, eyes fluttering at his touch. 

“Of course, I want that. I want that and more. I-I’m not the best with relationships. I’m only saying this because I want to be open and honest with you. There’s not a second you aren’t on my mind. While at work, you are all I can see. In a crowd of a hundred, my eyes always find yours. I don’t know how to explain what you do to me. But I don’t mind. I think if I ever lost that, I would lose my mind. So I’m sorry if I ever made you feel the opposite. There’s so much more I want to say, but I just don’t know how. I want that. I want that so bad. A relationship and whatever more you give me. I might not be the best boyfriend but I’ll do whatever it takes. I- I love you.” Yoongi’s words are heartfelt and he’s so relieved. One because he’s been keeping this in for so long, any longer and he would have exploded, but second because he’s been dying to say those three words. He really does love you and Yoongi doesn’t love many people in life, but if he had to choose, it’s always gonna be you. 

The tears that were creeping on your eye-lids fall prettily down your face, but Yoongi comes to your rescue. He’s quick to wipe them off your pretty face, tempted to kiss them away, but he keeps that in for now. “Y-Yoongi… I love you too. So much. I think I always have. You are so easy to love. The way you look at me, care for me, and always show up for me. That says more about you than anything else. I tried dating to get over what I felt for you, as you can probably tell, but nothing worked. It was so easy, Yoongi. So easy to fall in love with you. You’re perfect and I don’t doubt that you’ll be the best even after all this. I love you.”

“I love you too, I love you. Fuck, I love you.” Yoongi kisses you again and this time he isn’t as gentle. His lips are still soft as ever as they curl around yours. His tongue comes out and you immediately allow access, letting him explore your mouth. The taste is much better now that there isn’t anything you both are holding back. Everything down on the line and you couldn’t be happier. The hole in your heart was never empty, it was just waiting for this exact moment to remind you that you’ve always had it all. 

“Yoongi.” In between breaths you call his name and Yoongi feels his knees lock. “Take me to bed.” 

Yoongi just nods in a trance with the way your tone drips of arousal. A long strand of hair falls on his face when he picks you up with ease off your feet. He takes you to the place he’s had the honor to visit a hundred times before, but it’s different this time, much different. 

In the process of it all, something falls and it causes you both to laugh until you run out of breath. 

“I can’t believe that just happened.” You laugh into his ear. “You owe me a new lamp. My mother bought me that, you know. House-warming gift.”

“Fuck, sorry.” Yoongi mumbles near a whisper as he grips you harder like he’s afraid he might drop you next and the idea makes you giggle because you know he would never purposely hurt you. “I’ll apologize to your mother directly. Buy you and her a new lamp, whatever it takes.”

“What makes you think you are meeting my mother?” You tease with a smile on your face, watching the blush rise on his cheeks. 

“Well, I figured we could, you know, if you would like–” Yoongi doesn’t often get shy about many things but he can’t keep calm around you and that kills him softly.

“I’m just teasing you.” You say and he bites his lip. “Of course you’ll meet my mother and my father and my nosy ass family. I hope you like annoying, persistent grandma’s that stuff you full. My grandma’s the worst of her kind, but she’ll love you.”

“I would love to.” Yoongi simply replies, still whispering as if you guys had to keep quiet or else you’d be in deep trouble. 

“Why are we still whispering?” You whisper back, roaming fingers through his long, gorgeous hair. He needs to remind you to thank his mother personally for insisting he keep his hair long because it made him look pretty and you could never disagree. Yoongi’s so pretty. 

“I-I don’t know.” 

You both smile at each other before sharing another kiss. It’s so sweet and if you weren’t already off your feet, you would be floating by now. He’s gentle when letting you drop into the sheets below, he finds space between your legs and you wrap them around his hips. Lips still in contact, never losing the plushy feel. 

Everything starts to feel hot. Your hips start to slowly grind against his begging for any sort of friction. But the kissing doesn’t stop. 

Not when you start whining against his lips. 

Not even when Yoongi starts trailing his fingers down your waist and around your curves. He teases his fingertips against your waistline, soft to the touch. 

It’s not until you mewl loudly into his mouth, skillful tongue playing with yours, as you feel him start unbuckling your pants, button-by-button. 

Yoongi’s eyes are heavy-lidded, his gaze burning fire. “Gonna take care of you now, is that okay?” 

You furiously nod, coming up to kiss him once more, both your lips are raw and sensitive, but it gives you more of a reason to fix it with even more kisses. 

He drops one quick kiss onto your mouth before he trails down your jaw. Yoongi breathes in the sweet scent on your skin, wishing he could feel you even closer. “Smell so damn good.”

His voice is raspy against your ear and it makes you blush, while you feel his hand finally touch you where you had been aching with need. “Wanna hear you.”

Breathing lightly, you whisper. “Make me.” 

And of course, Yoongi makes you regret how fast you said the words because he delves his fingers forward with little resistance. Two fingers stretch you at the same time, gasping at the sudden sensation. 

By now, you were molded to fit Yoongi’s fingers. On days where you were really in need, you would take four, all at once. Yoongi was best at reading every expression, every crease and scrunch to your face, especially emotions. He knew exactly how to curve his fingers, the way to build you up, and bring you back down. Yoongi knew it all and he was so lucky too. 

He never anticipated it would have gone this far. It was just sex to begin with. But who were you both kidding, it was always much, much more. 

Yoongi curves his fingers in the way he’s used to and watches your mouth drop, sweet noises soon leaving your lips. “Feels good?” 

There’s no need to ask because he can tell. Your expression tells him everything he needs to know. That and the fact that you are dripping around his fingers but it’s sexier hearing it from you. 

“Yeah… f-feels so good.” With his other hand he tugs your clothes off, leaving you bare on the bottom. Remembering the first few times is a bit embarrassing, but Yoongi always made sure to take his time and make you feel comfortable. It was special and memorable in its own way, and Yoongi felt it too. 

This is unlike any first time, but it was technically the first time you could officially make love to each other until you fall lovesick and that had to be impossible around someone like Yoongi. 

“Hold your legs open for me, flower.” You try to ignore the warm feeling that buzzes in your chest, but you are sure your face says it all. Without another word, you spread your legs open, tucking both hands behind your thighs.

“Flower?” You breathe out with a bit of a struggle as his two fingers continue to pump deep inside you, brushing repeatedly against your g-spot. 

“Do you not like it?” Yoongi smiles slightly, biting his bottom lip while he watches you start to tremble, making the prettiest sounds. 

“I do. Why the new name?” Voice a bit unsteady but it does the job. Yoongi thinks of all the times he thought you were as pretty as a flower, which really was all the time. Especially, in the way he has you right now. Pretty, pretty as a flower. 

“I’ve always wanted to call you that. You’re pretty, sweet, delicate. Just like a flower.” He justifies his reasoning and you melt into puddles. 

“Yoongi.” Voice sweet as honey. 

“Yes baby.” He replies with ease.

“Make love to me, Yoongi.” 

There was a time in his life where Yoongi believed he could live without love. How foolish of him to think so. When he met you, it was a complete three-sixty. Suddenly, Yoongi started to look forward to his shit job. He looked forward to that time between breaks where he could admire you from the back like a pinning loser. Yoongi even started to like the walks he had to take to get to work because he knew that the path would eventually lead to you. He started looking forward to tomorrow's and to the bright future that led ahead. His mom would often complain that he was wasting his life away waiting for it to start, but Yoongi thinks life truly started the day he met you. 

It was a bit awkward because you couldn’t even look him in the eyes, intimated by the staff and new environment. You had previously worked in different bars so you assumed it would be no different and it wasn’t, but the intimidation of a new job was there nonetheless. Yoongi was there every step of the way. He had a crush on the new employee and you needed help on fitting in. Either way, your friendship was very platonic until it wasn’t. 

Yoongi knows he should have said something along the lines “hey, maybe we shouldn't be doing this anymore. I’m in love with you and I have been since you started working here” but the stupid words never made it out. He felt it would be too much to hear and it would only make him look like a complete loser. 

And you felt the same. It was silly really, because everyone around you knew it and there was no reason to fear someone as easy going and non-judgemental as Yoongi, nonetheless it brought you both here. After many failed dating attempts, you were finally happy and in the arms of someone who you truly love and want to be loved by. 

There was a time in his life where Yoongi believed he could live without love, now Yoongi believes your precious, sweet love brought him back to life and he wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. 

Clothes now discarded on the floor, heavy breathing filling the room, and Yoongi could get wasted on the smell of your intoxicating perfume. “Breathe flower.”

Yoongi felt you shiver at the sound of his words, throwing your head back as he thrusts you full of cock. He pushes inside you with gentle movements, struggling to keep himself up while feeling the tug of your warm velvet-like walls. 

You gasp feeling him hit your cervix in a calm, slow pace. It was breathtaking regardless of the gentle rhythm. “You’re so deep...”

“I know flower, breathe baby, breathe.” He is struggling to keep from coming inside you, overwhelmed by his own emotions as your eyes roll back, feeling the pressure rise in your belly. Without a condom, everything feels so different from other times, feeling every ridge and crease fold inside your drenching heat. You take him so nicely, like you always have. Like you’ve always belonged to him. 

You don’t even notice you stopped breathing until you start feeling lightheaded and desperate for fresh air. Breathing just as much as necessary so you don’t faint, you shake your head against his hold, his eyes watch yours, observing with curiosity. 

“No?”

“Mm, n-no.” You shake your head again, whimpering when you feel him kiss your cervix with his swollen tip, over and over and over. “Can– can you…”

“Can I what, pretty flower?” Yoongi rolls his hips a bit faster, feeling his orgasm build too quickly. He wishes he could have days with you like this always. Days to love and worship you from head to toe.

“Choke me.” You manage to say. “Don— don’t wanna breathe.” 

Yoongi growls deep, increasing his speed even more, desperate to fill the deepest part of your glistening folds. He feels you tense underneath, the sounds coming from your mouth are loud enough for your neighbors to hear, but Yoongi stopped giving a fuck about everything around him. 

He places a hand on your throat and squeezes gently, not blocking off your airways completely, but leaving you just enough air to work with. It drives you insane. The more you breathe, his rough thrusts take the air out from your lungs and the process repeats. It feels so good.  

“M-more. Harder.” You barely hear your own words, but Yoongi seems to understand because his dick is moving rapidly inside you, nearly splitting you in two. You wrap both hands around his wrist, loving the heavy weight against your chest. It’ll end too soon and it disappoints you in a way, but you have all the time in the world to make this up. “G-Gonna come.” 

Yoongi nods, concentrating on the way your face scrunches with pleasure. With love. The way your eyes tell him a story. God, Yoongi’s madly in love. “Come, my precious flower.” 

With those final words, you come on his bare slick cock, blossoming in the blissful afterglow. Yoongi doesn’t stop thrusting inside you, but he takes his hand off your throat, kissing your face gently when he sees tears start leaking down your cheeks. 

“It’s okay, you’re okay baby. Breathe for me. Slowly.” Yoongi’s words bring you back down and you throw your arms around him, crying against his shoulder. You don’t even know what invoked this strong emotion to sob your eyes out, but Yoongi allows it, caressing the back of your head. Yoongi doesn’t judge, he only holds you until you settle down. “It’s okay baby, let it out. Breathe, pretty flower.” 

“C-Come inside muh-me, please.” Even after all that, you still beg for him and Yoongi wants to laugh but for your sake and the fact that it’s endearing to him, he delivers accordingly without further questions. 

Right as he’s going to paint your walls white, he pushes himself up with one hand, still holding you with the other. “You sure?”

You’re confused about the sudden question, the tears still decorate your face but then you understand. “Birth control. Just come in me Yoongi, fuck me, fu-fuck.”

Yoongi doesn’t hesitate to regain his brutal pace, fucking you with purpose. Not that he doesn’t want kids in the near future, but he sure as hell doesn’t want any right now. He’s glad you are on the same page but maybe one day the conversation would spark and he wouldn’t want the mother of his kids to be anyone else but you. You were perfect for him. 

“Gonna come.” That’s the only warning you get, then he’s emptying himself inside your tight walls. He doesn’t stop rolling his hips, his slit leaking puddles, until he’s pumped himself dry. With one last thrust, he groans and carefully pulls out. 

He brings you with him, head falling against his chest as he continues to play with your hair, leaving kisses into your bare shoulders. “You okay baby?”

“Perfect. Feel so good.” You mumble into his skin, feeling around his waist. “I’m leaking your come into the sheets though.”

“I’ll take care of it, pretty flower.” You nod sleepily into his chest with a quiet ‘thank you’, feeling completely sated and satisfied, aching with exhaustion. “Sleep baby, I got you.”

With that, you fall deep into the shackles of sleep. Yoongi rubs your back until you completely fall asleep in his arms. He struggles to unwrap himself from your hold, but when he finally succeeds, he tucks you in and kisses your cheek a few times before getting up to clean up after the mess you both created. 

He’s light on his feet, bringing a warm towel to your slick folds and wipes as best he can, being gentle so you could continue to enjoy your sleep. Even like this, you look so beautiful and Yoongi is an extremely lucky man. 

Yoongi makes sure to also pick up the lamp he dropped from earlier as well. He blows out a breath of relief when he notices that the damage is nothing big and nothing that can’t be fixed. He’ll make sure to fix that as soon as he can. 

While he’s out there, Yoongi places the tulips into a vase and fills it with water, placing it near a window where it could grow and blossom beautifully near the sunlight. He even cuts the tips into slants because he had heard somewhere online they last longer that way, making sure to get rid of any dead leaves and petals. Yoongi couldn’t be happier.

After he’s done with the light cleaning, he washes his hands and feels the exhaustion hit him tenfold. He’s careful when placing himself back in bed, lifting your arm and placing himself underneath you. The man smiles when he feels you curl yourself around him, sleeping soundlessly. 

“I love you.” He whispers and even though you don’t say it back Yoongi feels it with the way you melt into his arms. Yoongi falls asleep easily that night. 

…

“Baby.” Yoongi hears someone call him and he ignores it. Sleep calls his name louder and he doesn’t feel like waking up right now so he groans and cuddles deeper into the bedsheets below him, unaware of the life around him. 

“Baby wake up.” You keep calling sweetly and it’s tempting but he persists.

“No. Don’t wanna.” Yoongi grumbles like an old man and you can’t help but to laugh. “Just ten more minutes.”

When you woke up the next morning, you were so thankful Yoongi had kept his promise. Your apartment was flawless and you were as clean as you could be. The tulips looked prettier today as the sun shined on the delicate petals. You even had time to warm the seaweed soup he brought from home and you couldn’t wait to get a taste. The smell alone is delicious and it warmed your home up nicely, you truly couldn’t wrap your head around the fact that this was no longer a dream but your reality. You could definitely get used to this. 

You drop kisses onto his warm cheeks until his eyes flutter open, almost similar to a cat. “There you are.”

Yoongi pulls you into his arms again with quiet noncoherent grumbles and closes his eyes once more. “Give me ten minutes.”

“It’s already been ten.” You whisper lightly laughing. 

“Oh. Ten more then.” You get comfortable on his chest and cuddle for a bit longer because you can’t say no to his cute sleepy self. 

Yoongi starts to sniff the air with curiosity. “Is that the seaweed soup I brought you?” 

“Mhm.” You hum. “Better get up soon before it burns.” 

That manages to be convincing enough and Yoongi forces himself up, with you in his embrace. 

“Wanna wake up like that forever.” He says, voice filled with sleep. 

“You can.” 

Yoongi snaps his heavy eyes towards you. “Are you–”

“Move in with me, Yoongi.” Yes, you skipped every step to this, but nothing was ever to code between you and Yoongi. One thing you were so sure of and that was spending the rest of your life with him. “Please.”

“I- yes, of course.” Yoongi wraps his arms around you for a tight hug, kissing your temple. “I love you. I love you and I’ll prove it to you every single day.” 

“I know, I love you too. I love you.” Those three words come out from your mouths so easily and it’s nice that you no longer have to ever hold back. The man of your dreams is in the palms of your humble home and he’s in love with you. This was better than any dream. 

“Let’s eat?” He says after some time of hugging and kisses being interchanged. 

You nod, letting him take you there. Your kitchen is filled with the cruel aroma of food and your tummy rumbles as you sit comfortably while you wait for him to serve you a bowl of the warm tasty soup. 

“I should be doing that. I’m a terrible host.” Yoongi shakes his head while smiling, the fluff of hair moving with him, then your phone dings. “Hold on, give me a second.” 

Your heart drops when you see it is a Tinder notification from a man you promised to get back to. You look over to find Yoongi serving your bowl, making his way to the table. He leans in puckering slightly and you immediately lean into the sweet sudden kiss while he places your meal in front of you. This Yoongi is new because it wasn’t often you could act domestically towards one another, however this was perfect and just what you needed. 

“Everything okay baby?” Yoongi asks while caressing your soft cheek and you immediately nod in his palm. 

“Yes, everything’s perfect.” You reply in awe. “Thank you Yoongi, for everything.”

For letting me love you and for loving me back. 

The older man just smiles and joins you for the meal. 

It turns out you didn’t need Tinder after all. 

You quickly delete the app off your phone and start to eat with the love of your life, conversation flows while you enjoy each other’s presence and fall deeper in love. 

Alike Yoongi, you couldn’t imagine it happening any other way. You were bound to fall in love, one way or another, but that man was meant to be yours as you were meant to be his.

[carawenfiction]

Will we have an update soon?

Tumblr won't let me make normal posts for some reason, so the update will have to be in form of an answer to this ask smh. Anyway:

Hey everyone!

This post is long overdue, I know. I’m really sorry to those who have been worried about my wellbeing, as well as those who have been waiting around for an update for so long.

I’ve put off writing here because this “update” is something I’ve been wrestling with for a long time. But I can’t keep going back and forth on it forever, which is why I’m now letting you all know that the Shadow Society is officially discontinued.

I know that this might not come as much of a surprise to anyone at this point. I’ve tried to salvage the story by remaking it into something I’m happy with through a rewrite. But I’ve rewritten the rewrite itself more than once, and no matter what I do, I’m just not happy with the result. Rewriting something that’s already published with all the coding it involves is a lot more tricky than I initially thought it would be.

This is not a case of me being needlessly harsh on myself, however; it’s simply a truth I’ve come to realize after struggling to find a way to keep going with the story. I’ll never be fully content with it, or even content enough, unless I’d be able to completely remake and rewrite everything from scratch – and consequentially, I will never find enough motivation to continue because of how unhappy I am with it.

I’ve seen some speculation about my reason for rewriting the story and my long absence, and that they’ve had to do with comparisons to other IFs (well, you know which one). This isn’t entirely the case. While the comparisons did happen and probably still do, and while they were discouraging in the beginning, I can definitely understand where people have been coming from when making them. I talked about this more in-depth in the forums right after the release of TSS.

The main reason for why I can’t continue is that it’s not a series I feel passionate enough about to work on. My tastes have changed, and so has my writing to some degree. I’ve tried to convince myself that I am passionate about it. It’s hard to admit that you’re not when it’s been in your head for so long, when you’ve tried for so long to make this work and when you know that one part is published and that some people are anticipating a continuation. But it had to be done sooner or later.

Other reasons:

-While I don’t think that my writing style has changed drastically, I feel like it is somewhat different from how I wrote back in 2018 (which is a GOOD thing). Whenever I tried working on the rewrite or second book and attempted to emulate the writing of TSS, it just didn’t sound right anymore, and that took a lot of fun out of it.

-With everything that has happened with CoG over the past few years, they are no longer a company I want to write for.

Please know that none of this has discouraged me from writing in general. I still love doing it. If anything, this has taught me a lot about what I actually want to write and the writing process in general. Whether I end up publishing anything else in the future or will simply do so for my own enjoyment we’ll just have to see, though.

I still have the idea of a shadow-like world in my head, and maybe it’s one I will revisit at some point. Maybe there will be another version of TSS someday, albeit very different from the original one.

But for now, I can only thank you all for the overwhelming love and support over the years, and apologize for any disappointment this has caused. If people are interested, I’d be happy to share parts of the rewrite and unused ideas. The Tumblr page will still stay up at least for some time, but I will probably not be answering any asks from here on out.

EDIT: Forgot to add, but if anyone wants a genuinely amazing IF read you should check out my friend's wip here: https://uroboros-if.tumblr.com/ ❤️ Play the demo here: https://mistyriousness.itch.io/uroboros

[bettsfic]

hi betts!

i’ve been a fan of yours for years now (training wheels is one of my favorite stories— not just fics. stories— ever, and i really admire your style. as a writer myself, i want to ask how you’re able to keep your motivation up to complete your projects? i feel like i start out so motivated when i fall in love with an idea, but once that fevered haze fades, it’s almost impossible for me to get the motivation i need to write. i have a few wips that i feel so guilty about not finishing/not wanting to finish/wanting to finish but being unable to get the inspiration to. so, in short, how do you maintain the motivation to finish your wips?

thank you so much! i'm glad to hear it; training wheels is still very dear to me.

first, if you want a step by step guide to finishing your wips, i wrote a tutorial earlier this year in my newsletter.

also as i've said elsewhere, i believe it's more important to follow your inspiration and interest where it takes you even if it means not finishing things. one of the reasons i love fanfic is because it's the only genre i can think of where you get to read unfinished works and be present during the writing of them.

but you asked about *my* motivation to finish things, and i'll say it's taken me a long time to build the endurance necessary not only to complete big projects but also complete them to my satisfaction. in my experience, the better you are at finishing things, the worse you become at starting them, and so whereas i used to have a million wips and ideas happening at once, now i can see the ridiculous endeavor ahead of me and pick my battles more knowledgeably.

also, i don't finish everything, especially not right away. sometimes i sit years on a story before i eventually come back to it. but i've found that it's inevitable that when i put something down that i care about, i'll come back around to it when i'm ready. it's not something i have to force. my attention and interest bounces around all over the place but the things i love, i love forever. so i'll always come back around to them.

most importantly--and this is really very important--i lie to myself.

here are the two main lies i tell myself:

"this is the best thing i've ever written," and

"i'm almost done."

being a little delusional is a huge benefit as a writer. if you're too honest with yourself nothing can get done. but i've always had a natural talent for convincing myself of things that aren't true and although that's gotten me in a lot of trouble in all other aspects of my life, in writing it keeps me just far enough away from reality that i can finish things.

the process is something like this:

vague story idea!

will probably be very small, the shortest story i have ever written in fact

begin writing

feels good, feels organic

no no that's not right, bad vibes

start over

ohhh i see what i'm trying to do

outline the tiniest, easiest outline i have ever made. five bullet points. this happens, and then this and this, and the story ends. EASY

will finish by tomorrow, probably

write write write

will finish by tomorrow, probably

write write write

definitely tomorrow, almost done

check word count. 25k. uh oh

doesn't matter, almost done. have *checks* four out of five bullet points to go

write write write

five point bullet outline no longer effective

re-outline. five points turns into five pages. uh oh

check word count. 60k. big yikes

but! almost done! will finish tomorrow, probably

write write write

get stuck? how? but the outline...

the outline is ineffective. re-outline.

check word count. 100k. :(

almost done :)

a plot knot arises. spend six hours staring at a wall to undo the plot knot

plot knot is more insidious than expected. open new document. start over

*now* i'm almost done

rewrite, restructure, reorganize

check word count. 20k. :(

write write write

check word count. 200k. :((

weeks-long fugue state during which i am god

awaken to filthy apartment. i have not eaten a vegetable in many days. i have not seen the sun.

eat a broccoli

go outside

am i living? am i truly living? is this all life is? am i loved? am i worth loving?

return to safety of fictional world to avoid existential despair

write write write

will finish by tomorrow, probably

so it's really less about motivation to finish and more about motivation to chase down an increasingly elusive feeling of joy through immersion into worlds of my own making and control. it's way easier to run away from something than toward it.

[teamhappyme]

it only feels this raw right now

jake seresin x female!reader

word count: 2.5k

warnings: hurt/tiny comfort, none unless you count jake seresin just existing

a/n: hi, friends!! it has been, like, a year and a half since i’ve written anything and posted on here but! i’m back! i’ve been writing this for legit 8 months and finally finished this after rewriting and rethinking it so many. fucking times. shoutout to @qvid-pro-qvo for listening to me lie “I’m going to finish this today” for MONTHS and for supporting all my silly little fantasies and thoughts. this was going to be hurt/no comfort but i couldn’t deny the comfort in me, and there is potential for a part 2 if i ever decide to get motivation :) ok here it is enjoy BYE- (yes taylor swift inspired title from labyrinth leave me alone)

~~~

It was a moment you knew you’d look back on and think ‘this is when i lost everything i’ve ever loved.’

But really, you think, i never had the chance to love him.

It was never a dream of yours, to become a naval aviator. You didn’t have a family legacy to continue, natural talents guiding you, or an intangible need to be in the air. It was simply a career move to join the navy, to move into a field where women weren’t represented, and be able to go anywhere you were needed. 

It was never a dream of yours to fly F-18’s into combat, to spend hours fighting nausea, anxiety, and ejections thousands of feet into the air.

It was never a dream of yours to be invited to top gun, to compete against the best and cockiest naval aviators in the business. Fightertown was not supposed to feel like coming home for you and the small group of friends you grew close to during your decade long service to the navy.

But it was certainly never a dream of yours to fall for the guy who you knew would always leave you behind.

“The hell are you doin’ out here?” Jake yelled out to you from the other side of the deck.

Avoiding you, smartass, and your annoying habit of dropping half of the letters that make a word, was the response floating through your brain.

“C’mon, Mav’s gonna buy us another round, and if you don’t step in, we’re going to have to listen to his welcome home speech. Again.”

“I’ll be there in a minute,” high tide was rolling in, and the sound of the waves brought a smile to your face. “I’m enjoying the view.”

“It would be better if I stood right,” he moved in front of you, his broad shoulders completely blocking the ocean, smile turned up into the slightest smirk, “here.”

It was a miracle that Jake Seresin has never had his nose broken with the amount of times he’s crowded a woman’s space. And yet, the little shticks he pulled always brought a smile to your face. Something that most of your fellow aviators often rolled their eyes at.

“Funny.” you moved out of his line of sight, focusing back on the crashing tide. “Don’t wait on me, go ahead and claim your free round.”

“Hey, we’re supposed to be celebrating the fact that we all came home from that death trap mission - thanks to yours truly - not longingly staring into the abyss as you contemplate life’s greater meaning.”

“Oh, that’s right,” you smirked,  “it’s still a sore spot, being the losing quarterback in dogfight football. This view must be hard for you to look at.”

“We’re gonna go there, really?”

“You gonna stand there and pretend it doesn’t sting?” You joked as he rolled his eyes.

“Whatever,” his eyes were still on you as your smirk fell, and you looked back at the horizon. You were holding onto the railing for dear life, Jake observed, and your knuckles were beginning to turn white. “Seriously, what are you doing out here?”

“What, a woman seriously can’t enjoy this ocean view?”

“Not if that woman is you.” 

It was the slightest change of tone in his voice that got you to look over at him. Jake seresin in his civilian clothes was a rarity, and you were basking in his casual jeans and white t-shirt combination tonight. Also in rare form, his mouth in a straight line, showing you he wasn’t joking anymore. 

And neither were you.

“I’m not going back to Top Gun.”

His expression didn’t change as he replied back, “None of us are, mission’s over. We’re getting our new assignments after this furlough.”

“No, Seresin,” you began while shaking your head. “I’m not going back to Top Gun to get my assignment, or debrief the mission any further.”

His eyebrows scrunched together, trying to figure out what you were saying without actually saying it.

“I passed my papers this past week. I’m done flying.”

He took two seconds to register the information, then scoffed. 

“You can’t just be done flying in the Navy, this is the military we’re talking about. There’s rules, regulations, a thousand steps and pieces of red tape to comb through. You don’t just retire.”

“I didn’t say I was stepping away from the Navy, not yet anyway. But I’m done being a fighter pilot.”

“Are you,” Jake ran his fingers through his hair, clearly frustrated, and you had no idea why. “Are you even listening to me? You don’t tell the United States Navy you’re done, they tell you when you’re done. I don’t understand how you got your papers through, no one in their right mind is going to let a pilot as good as you just walk away. You’d have to kiss major ass of an admiral, or someone who knows an admiral or-”

He froze then, leaving his sentence unfinished as he turned to look at you. 

“Maverick?” he asked, and you couldn’t do anything besides nod. “You can’t just leave,”

“Why not?” you asked, growing annoyed by the second of his inability to accept this. 

“Because you’re a fighter pilot, a damn good one at that, and you’re just going to throw it away to be a, what, a civilian?”

“Surprised you could say the word without gagging,” you jeered, his eyes narrowing in on you.

“Listen, I’m trying to reason here with you, understand what’s going on-”

“Then ask me a fucking question instead of telling me what I can and can’t do.”

You didn’t look away from him as he came to stand next to you, that fucking smirk still on his face. He waited a few seconds, sizing you up before opening his mouth again.

“Fine. Why are you leaving?”

It was not a simple question, and it was one you have had to answer several times over the last few weeks. To Maverick, you said it was time to move on. You needed a change from the fast paced, no roots life of a naval aviator. To the admiral, you said you’d accomplished everything you wanted in your career as a fighter pilot with the Navy. He saluted you on a job well done on this latest mission. And to the transition counselor, you said the job had begun to scare you. She encouraged you to find another purpose in the Navy as your leave was to be finalized.

But none of those answers were the full truth, not even all put together. 

“Because I don’t want to sit through debriefs, or listen to the list of tactical strategies we can use, or face another deployment in a place I don’t know and people I don’t trust.”

“I don’t want to do that shit any more than you do, but I do it. I suck it up so that I can get in the air and fly. That’s what all this is about, right? Getting in the air and doing what we were born to do.”

“And that doesn’t terrify you?” you questioned. “It doesn’t terrify you that the moment you get up there you could burn into a million pieces? Get shot down in the middle of foreign air space, get stuck in a bird strike, even make a dumb mistake like run out of fuel? Cause everytime I suit up I think: is today the day my family gets a letter from the Navy, thanking me for my service and making the ultimate sacrifice?” your eyes were beginning to water, and you were desperate not to cry in front of him. “So yeah, I went to Mav and asked a big favor to get me out, and I don’t regret it. And I’m not going to let you or anyone else make me feel bad about it.”

Jake refused to look away from you, and it was making you feel the slightest bit intimidated, though you’d never admit that to him.

“Hey, Hangman,” you heard the giggly voice and could already picture the drunk, plastered smile on a petite girl Jake always went after. Looking over at the back door to the hard deck, the brunette in a slinky pink sundress and two drinks in her hand confirmed your guess. “You gonna come back in here and finish these drinks with me?”

He looked at her, muttering a ‘shit’ under his breath, and you took this as an opportunity to wipe at your eyes.

“I’ll be right there.”

You shook your head as she went back inside, and turned away from Jake. 

“Can’t go a day without a girl, can you, Hangman?” you said with a scoff. “You know what, thanks for attempting to understand my decision, but I don’t want to keep you from that lovely woman inside.”

“That’s your problem, you know. You think you’re so much better than us, with your ivy league education and moral standing, you can’t stand being lumped into a mission, let alone a group of plebes with us.”

“You got me, I’m disgusted with you all so much I risk my life for you every time I get in the air.” You shook your head, not wanting to get into an argument over this with Jake. “Just leave me alone, Seresin.”

“Not until you tell me the real reason you’re leaving the navy. Everyone’s scared shitless up there, your fear is nothing special.”

“Because I can’t do this anymore!” you relented. “I can’t go months on deployment, dreaming of the day I’m going to get back to North Island to see you, only to find that exact scenario,” you motioned to the door once again, referring to the next random woman in his life, “playing out every damn time for the last seven years.”

“I don’t… I don’t understand.” He commented, losing all his charm and ego.

“I know you don’t.” You didn’t know where to go with this.

It was never your intention to reveal your feelings for Jake, to Jake. It was something you planned on keeping tucked away for the rest of your life, minus the part where Phoenix was starting to catch on. You didn’t want to feel this way for him, but his stupid grin, and his annoying sense of humor, and the small snippets of sincerity he would reveal to you reeled you in. And you knew it was going to hurt you, continuing to watch him bounce from girl to girl in the bar you guys called home, but you had his friendship. 

Besides, a guy like Hangman would never want to settle down with a woman like you.

You watched as he looked from the ocean view, to you, back and forth as he tried to think of something to say. And damn your fucking brain for focusing on how beautiful his green eyes looked in this light. 

“Why didn’t you tell me? How was I supposed to know-”

“And what would you have done? Let me down slowly as our friends slowly start to pick sides; create awkward moments while training for a mission that almost killed us?” You shook your head, wrapping your arms around your body in an attempt to both warm up and comfort yourself. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore. You’re not the reason I’m leaving. I just can’t do all of this anymore, it’s not healthy for me. And I can’t pretend to enjoy it anymore. Let’s just… go back inside and get this night over with.”

You turned to walk back inside, but Jake had to open that big mouth of his.

“Why did you assume I wouldn’t feel the same?”

“What?” Is he saying what you think he’s saying?

“You really think I enjoy coming back to North Island every year to see Rooster? To listen to Fanboy, Phoenix, and Coyote sing into the early morning? If I wanted to spend a weekend with Coyote, I sure as hell don’t need to spend a thousand dollars on a plane ticket to Fightertown.”

It was your turn to throw a confused look at Jake. Was this his way of telling you he cares about you?

“Half the reason I was up Rooster’s ass to make the team was to protect you out there. No doubt in my mind you were going to make the team, and I couldn’t let you go out there without me on your six.”

Your eyes began to water again, realization sinking in.

“Are you serious right now?”

He threw his hands in the air, “why would I choose this moment to fuck with you?”

“I just have a hard time believing you cared about me after watching you go after half of the women in this town.”

“That’s not fair-”

“I’m not trying to offend you, I’m just stating the facts, Seresin. Believe me, I don’t want to be in love with the one man who refuses to be in a relationship, but we don’t really get a choice in it now do we.”

His eyes softened, mouth dropping open the slightest bit. You furrowed your brows at him, and then remembered what you said. 

You love him.

“I told you,” you wiped away a tear that fell and took a breath, “I really can’t do this anymore.”

He moved to take a step towards you, and you took one back at the same time, keeping the distance between you. He breathed out your name, and it took everything in you not to let him close to you.

“I do believe you, on some level and I don’t know if that’s because it’s true, or I just want my feelings reciprocated-”

“It’s true.” He was adamant. Determined. Sincere. 

“But I meant what I said. I can’t be a naval aviator anymore, no matter the circumstances. I need to take the time to figure out what I want to do, who I want to be outside of here.” Your eyes began to water again as you looked at him, then to the image of your friends inside the bar, laughing the night away. “And maybe that will give us time to really see how we feel about each other.”

“It’s not going to change.” He commented, watching as his hands flexed in and out of a fist. “If it hasn’t changed over the course of five years, it’s not going to change over the course of a few months. I don’t care how much distance there is between us or how many women you put in front of me, I’m still gonna be in love with you.”

Hearing him say it, i’m still gonna be in love with you, made you believe that this may have all been worth it. Maybe.

You let him take the two steps closer to you, willing yourself to trust him and his words. He brought his hands up to your face, gently wiping the tears off your cheeks. You quickly brought your hands up to rest on his forearms as his forehead fell to yours.

“I’m still going to need some time,” you felt him nod against you. “But I trust you.”

“Okay,” he mumbled before bringing his lips to your forehead, softly kissing your skin. “I’ll wait as long as you need me to.”

Maybe, you think, I’ll get that chance to love him after all.

~~~~

[pokelolmc]

The Ultimate Enemy is a Disappointment (and How I'd Fix It) (Part 1)

A couple years back, I started analysing a list of DP episodes I thought had missed potential--and my analysis on TUE got SO big I made it its own thing. I rewrote it to death and could never settle on something concise enough, so I abandoned it. But I'm BACK baby. I can't remember where it is now, but I came across a poll on whether Reign Storm or TUE is the better special and the discourse reignited my passion for this analysis, and gave me motivation to trim off some of the fat.

Don't get me wrong, at the end of the day I do like this episode--or at least its ideas. I really liked the episode the less I thought about it, but now I see issue after issue in its execution. Hence, the "disappointment": it could've been great, but it missed the mark. This won't just be a one-sided roast of TUE, though. I have a ton of cool ideas for how to rewrite plot holes or fill in the gaps. The best roasts are constructive! (Though I would be rewriting it in a more mature fashion compared to canon's writing--keep that in mind).

Part 2 is now up: you can find it here.

So here we go: Part 1--the general plot contrivances/contradictions unrelated to Dan's character or the time travel system.

The episode introduced taking off the Time Medallions as a way to immediately return to one’s native time period, but then forgot this late into the second act.

Technically this plot hole involves time travel devices, but I'm counting it as a plot hole by character decisions.

The episode gives no explicit rules on lag time between removing the medallion and returning home, but it takes only one to two seconds to return Skulktech to the future after they dropped theirs, and it had to have been instant for Sam and Tucker to return to the past in time to escape rubble falling from FentonWorks (which was only roughly two to three stories high, not counting the Ops Centre).

Danny should’ve been sent back almost instantly when Dan took his medallion off—which would’ve completely defeated the purpose of Dan’s attempt to trap Danny there in the first place.

If they wanted to keep the plot point, they could’ve just had Dan grab the medallion and turn it intangible while it’s still around Danny’s neck…and that’s assuming that making it intangible while Danny’s still tangible doesn’t count as “removal”. That’s it. He never needed to remove it to begin with.

2. The Nasty Sauce explosion just…sucks. In my opinion, it’s too silly for the tone the episode’s trying to go for (and as a cause of major character death), and it wrecks the worldbuilding.

I tried to put it in way more verbose ways in my previous drafts, but I found another post somewhere on tumblr that did what I couldn’t—say it in three words:

“It’s just stupid.”

Assuming that semi-realistic laws exist in-place in the Danny Phantom universe (so it’s BASICALLY similar to ours) the Nasty Burger shouldn’t have been able to stay in business without a LOT of red tape, cover-ups and NDA’s. They had an explosive substance on premises, being taken care of by unqualified, minimum-wage part-timers instead of trained chemical safety specialists. Forget handling it, they shouldn’t have even had it in the first place! If they got it by going UNDER the law and covering everything up, then one of their employees shouldn’t have been able to just CONFESS to it at a public school assembly.

It also sounds ridiculous that a “certain combination of secret herbs and spices” could catastrophically combust in the first place. They could’ve made the explosion ghost-powered/altered; they could’ve made it not the sauce itself, but a pressure issue with its containment vats; they could’ve made it a gas leak or malfunction of cooking equipment starting a fire, or something. They could’ve made the explosion a Fenton invention at their home (where the whole family had reason to be at once, and Mr Lancer could hold the parent-teacher conference there like in Teacher of the Year). They've used more serious threats of explosion in previous episodes (like the Ecto-Filtrator in Million Dollar Ghost).

And instead they decided “Yep! This commonly sold and digested sauce is a dangerous explosive, and even a small handout serving is enough to blow clean through a wall when it’s heated up!” This is how we're going to kill all of the main characters' loved ones to send him on a villain arc!

Like what?

Nowhere else after TUE did the show acknowledge the Nasty Sauce in worldbuilding. There were no consequences of its risk being publicly revealed, nor did it ever pose a hazard again. It’s understandable, given the show’s episodic nature. Bu at least in The Ultimate Enemy itself, they should've thought about how it affected most of the previous episodes.

During his fight with Boxed Lunch, one of Danny's ectoblasts to a sauce packet demolishes an entire section of wall in the Nasty Burger. So how hadn’t any ghost fights ignited any Nasty Sauce before—or damaged the main vat, god forbid—and caused an explosion already?

If the sauce was always a part of the Nasty Burger’s recipe, then the entire restaurant was a ticking time bomb waiting to go off since season one, and nothing short of a miracle could explain why it hadn’t happened before.

3. This episode committed character assassination of Mr Lancer, for the sake of setting up stakes in the plot. And contradicted his personality changes in previous episodes (such as “Teacher of the Year”).

Mr Lancer, in my opinion, is the character done the single dirtiest in the episode. It warps his entire character around the plot, and turns him into a contrived mouthpiece for how important the CAT is. It leaves him even more malicious and mean-spirited than his behaviour in the first episode of the entire show—leaving him even worse than he started.

He didn’t have much character development, but there were some more positive changes happening in his personality as later episodes occurred. He started out as a selfish, corrupt authority figure (think Mystery Meat, Fright Night and other S1 episodes where he deliberately lets the jocks off the hook for their behaviour), but unwittingly acts in favour of the main characters in “Fanning the Flames”—although ineffective and easily taken down by Ember.

By the time of “Teacher of the Year”, we finally got a glimpse into his (albeit scant) ideology as a teacher around helping his students succeed, and his concern for Danny’s failing grades.

It even revealed his personal interest in Doomed, which gave him more in common with Danny and Tucker and humanised him in way a few other episodes hadn’t. Season two even demonstrated his (albeit brief) willingness to stand up and defend his students from a ghost attack in “Memory Blank”. Lancer, for a brief period of time, became more than just his job, book title swears and his frustration with rebellious students.  

We're talking about the teacher who, in the early 2000s, kept a picture of himself crossdressing at school to convince his students to try their best with a "story about his sister".

The Ultimate Enemy, however, took Mr Lancer’s humanity towards the students—particularly Danny—and flipped it all on its head. It turned him into an elitist, mean-spirited asshole who verbally attacked his students (past and present) based on their performances on this single. Fucking. Test.

They made Mr. “there is no cheat code in school, or in life” Lancer into a cruel enforcer of the hamfisted and childish importance of the CAT. Actual “get rich vs dead-end, minimum-wage job” propaganda.

(Teacher of the Year)

And... one season later:

(that sure sounds like a cheat code in life to me)

To add insult to injury, TUE used Lancer’s death as the butt of a joke directly after spending the majority treating him like a total asshole—following up character assassination with literal assassination , and excluding him from the rest of the explosion victims in their memorial.

It feels to me, that it'd make more sense for Mr Lancer to be sceptical of the importance of the CAT based on TOTY. Replace him in the assembly with Principal Ishiyama or something. A stickler-for-the-rules school administrator looking to boost the school's image by pressuring kids on a standardised test? That ABSOLUTELY makes sense.

Mr Lancer could still be seen as a threat (or someone Danny can't reach out to for help), but in the department of simply being an authority figure Danny's used to dodging around with his ghost activities. Someone who'd still enforce consequences for Danny getting caught cheating. Someone who'd get his parents involved. He's the closest thing Danny could have to any level of support at Casper High, and Danny could think he's even lost THAT.

4. The way Danny got the CAT answers was contrived, and broke the previously established rules of ghost intangibility.

To cut a long story short, Boxed Lunch’s fight with Danny shouldn’t have gotten the test answers stuck to Danny’s back. Danny immediately turned intangible in anticipation of the explosion, and was thrown outside the Nasty Burger and through Mr. Lancer’s briefcase before turning tangible again.

That didn’t make sense; the series previously established that ghosts (in this case, halfas) were physically unaffected by explosions when intangible. “Million-Dollar Ghost” even demonstrated it when Vlad escaped his castle’s explosion in the same manner, and was left completely unmoved from his position at ground zero. The sauce packet explosion shouldn’t have even moved Danny out of place, let alone flung him out of the building (especially not compared to Vlad and an Ecto-filtrator explosion).

On top of that, the test answers couldn’t have gotten stuck to his back while he passed through the suitcase, as Danny was intangible and the answers sheet was solid. Even if it were possible for already intangible ghosts to grab onto tangible objects and bring them into intangibility, that’d certainly require conscious intention that Danny didn’t have in the episode.  The test answers got stuck to his back by sheer accident on his part. Bringing other objects into tangibility always previously involved a tangible ghost grabbing hold of other tangible people/objects and consciously willing them intangible together. Ergo, he should’ve simply passed through the suitcase and its contents all at once—go to the other side, pass go, do not collect CAT cheat sheet.

The solution for this one is pretty simple—just remove the scene entirely. Not only does it break the lore, but it’s entirely pointless and redundant (more on that later when I talk about Clockwork—giving Danny the answers was his idea, and it was a terrible one). Instead, it would’ve been much more compelling if Danny stole the answers on purpose with his ghost powers—being put under so much pressure to succeed that he felt like he had to forgo his morals and use his powers to cheat.

[thunderousavery]

Make You Mine (Ghost x Soap) Pt. 1

CW: Spoilers of MWIII (Only in A/N, I just want to vent), Blood, Curse words

A/N: I FUCKING HATE MWIII!!! Grrr... So, I'm gonna spoil myself with Ghoap fics from now on. THAT ENDING IS NOT FUCKING CANON IN MY MIND! I'M WEEPING AND GNAWING AT THE BARS OF MY ENCLOSURE! Also, I'mma rewrite my other unfinished story. Just got meself in tons of shit, and now MWIII fucking disappointed me. SOAP BOI WILL LIVE FOREVER IN MY MIND! SCOTLAND FOREVA!

Description: Uh... No description yet, but this is a multichapter fic with angst, mutual pining, and everything in between. HAPPY ENDING GUARANTEED! :)) (11/04/2023) Edited Description (11/05/2023): Simon and Johnny work together once more on an intel-gathering mission. Simon ponders what Johnny really means to him when hell suddenly breaks loose. Main Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x John "Soap" MacTavish Word Count: 1.5k

Chapter 1 - Well, I will call you darlin’, and everything will be okay.

“Where the hell did ‘Soap’ even come from?”

That question lingered in Simon’s mind like gum stuck on a wall. Honestly, it was a stupid question, and he didn’t even know why he asked that to Johnny after their mission briefing. The first time they met, he was instantly intrigued with the Scotsman in a way that stirred his nerves weirdly.

He didn’t want to acknowledge that feeling, so he deemed it was just irritation for his happy-go-lucky attitude. Simon was never fond of such positivity. Or the Scottish accent, either.

Unlike him, Johnny was easy to like and adored by anyone whom he passed by. He was friendly and compassionate like he had all the sunshine of the fucking sun and rainbows behind his back.

Johnny was definitely unlike him. Johnny was like the light, and Simon was the darkness.

He was a grump, always sought to be alone, and never been one to stand in long conversations. They say there’s a reason why a person acts the way they are, and Simon does have a reason that he’d die with than tell a single soul. He can’t trust anyone; he doesn’t have any friends.

Sure, he knew Price, Gaz, Laswell, and so on. But they’re not his friends; Simon considers them as his allies, commodities to help him with his fights. To him, he doesn’t need friends.

So, how about Johnny, then? Simon didn’t want to ponder about it.

“Ya wanna know why me name’s called ‘Soap,’ L.T.?” Johnny shoots him a cheeky grin while waiting for the intel file to be transferred to the flash drive. And yeah, Simon also hates how he always smiled like that. He looks like a fucking rat with a mohawk, or so how he always thought about it.

It was an intel-gathering mission. They infiltrate the building, download the intel, and get the hell out in one piece. Simple task, really. Too simple for Simon’s taste, but it was a good thing they had to take some guards down to motivate his bones. Nice and silent, kill and go.

And the waiting game begins in the main office. And Johnny starts an old conversation Simon even dared to ponder upon.

“Why are we even having this conversation again, Sergeant?” Simon grunted, brown eyes behind the skull-faced mask piercing at Johnny’s blue ones as he held his rifle loosely against his hands.

“‘Coz I remembered yer curious.” The Scotsman hummed before checking out the computer to check the progress. “Everyone was. But I kept it a secret for a wee while.”

… Now, Simon was starting to be intrigued. He thought the man was outgoing, telling everyone he met about his personal life like his callsign. He probably judged him wrong.

What was it? A crazy backstory involving a bar of soap? Or was it something that he also has: a cruel experience from the trauma factory? It was an enigma to him that he wouldn’t admit he was curious about.

“So, you’re going to tell that secret to me?” Simon didn’t know why he said that; he didn’t even dare to assume he said that.

“Fer a price, of course! Yer gonna owe me a drink.”

Simon’s eyes narrowed. Screw his curiosity and pitiful thoughts about him.

“Aw, come on. Was just kiddin’, y’know.” Johnny laughed softly. “Me cousin picked it out fer me. Said I could clean a room efficiently like no other.”

Simon’s eyes blinked. “… So, you’re Soap because you’re a germaphobe?”

“Heck, no. I just like to clean and—”

BOOM!

There was a loud explosion outside, ringing out the alarms of the vehicles.

“Shit, they know something’s up. Grab the intel, and let’s go.” Simon huffed and tightened his grip on his rifle once more, aiming it against the glass door just in case they got spotted. One bloody figure passes his sight, and he ought to shoot.

“Aye, copy that.” Johnny didn’t waste time grabbing the flash drive from the computer after transferring the files. Without a second thought, he shot his weapon at the computer screen and its CPU before he said, “Intel secured. Time to move out.”

Why the fuck did he even— Oh… Simon finally realizes that it was genius of him to destroy the original source. Even he hadn’t thought of that. He had to give Johnny some credit, at least.

Soon enough, they were on their feet towards the exit with haste and hawk eyes surveying the surroundings for any sign of movement. And if they did, Simon wouldn’t catch a breath to open fire.

Passing through doors and down the stairs, the building rang with the screech of the cars from outside. It was loud, and Simon hoped they wouldn’t run into an enemy. Whatever that explosion was, it should have alerted the patrols nearby. This was Russian territory, and they’d be damned to be spotted and add fuel to the flame of an already sparking war.

But…

“L.T., ya feel something odd?” Johnny asked behind him, watching his six as a good teammate that he is, but he wouldn’t admit it.

“… Yeah,” Simon grumbled as they reached the second floor. Only one more floor, but he noticed it too soon. “It’s too fucking quiet here. Not from outside, but inside.”

Something was wrong. Like a lake too calm to know about a deadly croc lurking in the waters. They need to be on their toes and fast.

No, maybe it’s just…

He failed to see the laser sight aimed at him.

“Ghost, on our 9!”

Johnny’s warning was too late. Simon stumbled back and dropped to the floor with a thud. A searing pain shot through his left shoulder near his bicep.

A sniper. They should’ve aimed for the head.

“Shit! I got ya, L.T.!” Johnny immediately crouched, helped move Simon’s body, and took cover behind the pillar walls. He held the Brit securely with an arm clutched on his upper torso before settling him in the corner. “Still solid, L.T.? Fuck, should’ve seen that comin’.”

“I’m… grr… I’m fine…” Simon growled beneath the mask through the pain as Johnny inspected the bleeding wound on his shoulder that tore through his sleeve. “It’s not that bad.”

Defensive. Pain was not new to him, but he hated it as much as being pathetic in front of people. He was strong; he trained hard to be.

And that fucking sniper will be dead by the time he gets his sight on them.

“It’s a bloody .50 caliber. Yer lucky they missed yer head.” Johnny’s voice was laced with concern that Simon couldn’t dare to acknowledge. He needs to stop the bleeding, but the bullet needs to stay for a while. He feels it’s lodged between an artery. Or worse, it ruptured an artery.

“I said I’m—”

“No shit ya are. Gonna fuck that bastard up when I see ‘em.” Johnny scoffed, and before Simon could protest, he took the scarf around his neck and wrapped it around the wounded shoulder, not too tightly but just to stop the bleeding. Blood instantly coated the cloth like a stain, and Johnny hoped it would be enough to stabilize his Lieutenant.

After securing his wound, he checked Simon’s pulse and sighed in relief before slumping beside him, his hand clutched tightly around his own rifle. For a while, Simon thought Johnny would lecture him about caring for himself, that he should accept help gladly as anyone should. And if the Scotsman ever said a word in between the lines of it, he wouldn’t hesitate to bark back and shut him up.

He doesn’t want a medical lesson coming from him. He doesn’t want his sympathy. Just one word and Simon could regret shutting any more lines of concern from that mouth.

… Yet, he didn’t. Johnny only turned his head to meet eyes with his. And there was that smile again. That poorly shaven 5-o’clock shadow smile. It wasn’t any of his usual shit-eating grin.

It was a smile so genuine that Simon couldn’t help but stare at him and be baffled by the fact that his breath was taken away by just that. Time stopped around him just to remember this like a frozen memory.

… Fucking hell.

And the only thing that brought him back to reality was Johnny’s Scottish accent. “Yer gonna be okay, so ye definitely owe me a drink this time, Simon.”

With that, Johnny stood up and held a gloved hand out for him, setting a goal to lead the way out of the building with a second objective of finding that sniper from outside.

“… Brat,” Simon grumbled but took his hand anyway just to stand up and pulled back as soon as he was on his feet again. The wound on his shoulder was still agonizing, but it was nothing that he couldn’t handle.

“Aw, come on!” There’s that ratty grin again.

“Will you just…!” He wanted to scream at him. To tell him to leave him alone. To tell him to fuck off. But he just groaned from the pain in his shoulder and didn’t say anything.

They continued their attempt to escape, being sneaky this time and wary of the threat from outside. They couldn’t get a good aim on the sniper, but they could tell that the laser sight was on their tails. They used the obstacles and obstructions everywhere; Simon thought they were lucky to have plenty of covers.

As soon as they get out, he vows hell to break loose on that fucking sniper.

A/N: My boi Soap will be done justice! Only happy endings for him!

You're currently in Pt. 1

Pt. 2 / Part 3 / Part 4

[incesthemes]

final thoughts: supernatural season 13

weird how i have a headache once again. it's like a ritual now. finish a season gain a headache. anyway let's see. a much better season than both 11 and 12 i think. but goddamn that fucking apocalypse world. i can already tell most of this post is going to be me complaining about the apocalypse world. sorry in advance.

so i'm pleasantly surprised that i only hated a sparse few episodes, actually. most of the worse episodes were either mediocre or cringe, and honestly i can accept that. there was some decent stuff here, and i'll give credit where it's due.

i think the season was at its best when lucifer and the apocalypse world weren't in any way involved. unfortunately there were very few episodes entirely absent of both (sad!), but at least there were plenty of scenes that avoided both subjects. i'm clinging to those with gusto.

lucifer... well it's the same issues i've had with him since season 7. i don't like the total rewrite of his character, and i especially don't enjoy his flimsy, superficial motivations, if he ever has motivations to begin with. i'm extremely bored of villains who want evil for evil's sake, power for power's sake. it's tired, it's hackneyed, it's entirely uninteresting. kripke's lucifer was an interesting take on the devil, with his understated and quiet arrogance: you almost wanted to believe him and sympathize with his position. he was compelling and new. but once kripke left the scene, lucifer just feels... like mark pellegrino is trying to recreate crowley from good omens, basically.

the petulant, bratty attitude lacks synergy with his earlier portrayal, and he loses a true purpose in the show. he goes from trying to fulfill one half of a destiny that parallels the relationship between sam and dean to... i don't even know, honestly. first he's a whacky and silly hallucination, then he wants daddy to apologize to him (and throws a temper tantrum to get it), then he wants... to destroy the world? i guess? and then he wants to rule the world, or something, because why not. there's barely anything reminiscent of his original purpose in the show, and hardly anything left of his original personality and character. it's really disappointing to see him disintegrate from something truly compelling to a flat, one-dimensional cardboard cutout of Evil Cartoon Villain. he's just not interesting anymore, i guess unless you really like crowley good omens and have always wanted to see him in supernatural instead. no offense intended to crowley good omens, for the record. he's just lovely in his original series, playing the role he was created for.

anyway what the fuck happened with lucifer in heaven anyway? like i keep feeling i straight-up missed a scene, or an episode. anael walked away from lucifer and then....? and then lucifer is just gone, i guess? like seriously did miss something? what happened between bring 'em back alive and funeralia???? how did they get lucifer out of heaven???? is that EVER explained????

anyway (x2) i guess i'll complain about the apocalypse world again because i still hate it. if there are 10000 apocalypse world haters i'm one of them. if there are 100 apocalypse world haters i'm one of them. if there's 1 apocalypse world hater that's me. if there's 0 apocalypse world haters i'm dead. and so on and so forth. i'm not above being petty.

i've mostly hashed out my thoughts on this world before so i won't bore anyone with the details, but i really really hate how they continued down this path in season 13. there are too many obvious narrative ploys to excuse the actions that sam, dean, and mary have taken. it's like a redemption arc for them without them ever having to do anything to "earn" that redemption. its entire existence screams "well without them doing these horrible things, everything would have been much worse! so actually it's okay!" and i can't stand that level of flippant, tone-deaf handwaving. it's like they can't bear the thought of their protagonists being anything less than morally good, and that gets under my skin and pisses me off like nothing else.

and i think this is particularly bad for mary. the thing season 12 did really well was making her a deeply flawed individual, someone who makes mistakes and is selfish and lost and just trying to make the best decisions with a shit hand and who suffers great losses because the game was rigged against her. she hurts her kids because of her choices, both in the past and in the present, and the show doesn't make an attempt to excuse her but rather encourages the audience to sympathize with her unique situation and understand that this is not and never was a black-and-white problem. there are no "good people" because everyone makes choices that harm others. this is an important theme rooted in the foundation of the show, and it's important to me.

which is why it infuriates me that the branching-off point in the apocalypse world is that mary didn't make the deal with azazel. because all that does is excuse the harm he inflicted on her kids. "the alternative was worse!" to such an extreme that the only thing the audience can do is justify mary's actions and absolve her of her sins. that's not fair to her, and it portrays her in exactly the opposite light that season 12 did, by forcing her into a pure and morally righteous role as the woman who made the Right Choice, who saved the world because of her small sacrifice. it's not fair! they took a complex female character and flattened her so badly into a Good Person simply by transforming her most destructive, selfish decision into the morally good one. it just feels like the writers couldn't handle the agony of writing a female character who wasn't either 100% good or 100% evil, and god it pisses me off. i'm seriously so disappointed in this direction, and the echoes of that direction soured the entirety of season 13 for me. because not only was mary rewritten into the morally upstanding mother, she was also reduced and limited in her narrative role. she took a major backseat this season, and what she was allowed to do was wholly motherly and nurturing. she took care of jack, she... took care of jack, she insisted that the rest of the resistance camp return to the real world with them, she... well damn, she took really good care of jack! none of the reckless, short-sighted characterization of season 12 remains, all her ruthlessness was drained, all of her power and competence ignored, and she was left to a disappointing support role as jack's moral compass, a nurturing mother to help jack develop. i'm SO angry about this, if you can't tell. SO angry about it.

i really, really, really am not someone to say that a character "deserved better" because for one that's a stupid and pointless argument to get into and i find most commentary in that vein to be both entitled and advocating for wildly OOC behavior in pursuit of content that destroys narrative integrity and eliminates drama, plot, and conflict. but mary... god i'm just so disappointed with how they used her this season. they did such great work with her last season. and this season they flattened her into Mother. and i'm so unhappy with it. If You Can't Tell.

let's see. more positive comments: i like how rowena is developing. she still falls firmly into the camp of side characters who are weirdly shallow for the roles they occupy because this show is chronically incapable of crafting good side characters, BUT now that she's getting some on-screen developments there's more meat on her bones, and i like what she's doing. that said, i really disagree with the complete about-face she made from season 12 to 13. seriously what's with the difference in characterizations between 12 and 13...? i'm so so confused here. i don't understand why rowena would ever be so broken up about crowley dying considering she tried to kill him so many times—maybe whoever decided that was the same person who decided mary had to be Mother and nothing else. mother characters have to be Mother and Mother trumps all other facets of their personality, maybe? whatever it is, i'm so annoyed by it and i hope to god this gets better in season 14. please lord i can't keep doing this. i need my women problematic, fucked up, and irredeemable. please.

jack, i'll talk about jack briefly because i'm getting sleepy and holy shit i want to go to bed lmao. i really love his character, i think he's appropriately nuanced and it's very refreshing. i suppose it's because he's a main character, and supernatural handles its main characters far better than the side characters (my issues with cas and his narrative development notwithstanding). he creates so much natural conflict, and i love how he plays off of sam and dean in really organic and interesting ways. i love how he helps to continue dean's arc from season 6 regarding his ability to be a father, and i love how both sam and dean project themselves so heavily onto him and respond to him in drastically different ways according to that perception. it's really complex and layered, which results in fantastic interactions and well-written drama that i greatly appreciate. even jack's interactions with lucifer, as much as i dislike lucifer's character, managed to be engaging and compelling. i love how much everyone is fumbling through all of this (this being parenthood) throughout the season, and how none of them really take to it naturally and those bonds have to form out of mistakes and forgiveness. it feels really satisfying and i'm so, so happy with how it's panned out.

i've seen posts floating around that dean wasn't jack's father, at least not to the extent sam and cas were, but i wholeheartedly disagree and i think dean plays a really vital role in this parenting dynamic, and he's willing to step up in ways both sam and cas hesitate to. for better and for worse, of course. and i just adore that jack so earnestly seeks dean's approval, and that makes dean giving that approval that much sweeter and cathartic. dean was able to give jack what he never got from john, in a big way. or at least dean didn't get it until john was literally on his death bed. it's a lot of character development for dean, and i loved seeing that. and i love that it continued through the season, and dean was able to heal himself through jack and find the father inside of him that can break the cycle of abuse that he inevitably perpetuated through ben. like seriously, incredible character arc. i'm obsessed with it.

i've barely talked about sam's parenting jack because i really don't have much to say. like he did so well, even when he messed up, in reaching out to jack and trying so hard to be the father he never had. he's open and honest about his intentions, his goals, his love, and his care. even though he's not great at communicating, he tries, and that eventually conveys in a way jack understands and appreciates. it's a totally new side to sam that i was anticipating because of tumblr, but that i wouldn't have expected going in blind. he's not exactly cut out for domesticity—really he sucks at it. so seeing him forge himself through dogged effort into a father was really rewarding, and i think his earnest devotion to that cause was what carried him to success there. he's strong-willed and he proved that here, and it's just really heart-warming to see him interact with jack and take care of him the best he knows how to, all the while actively striving to learn better. it's awesome.

i know dean is possessed by an archangel at the moment but i really am hoping for some nice domestic co-parenting wincest moments next season. i need it to live, i think <3

i think this is probably long enough, and also my headache is getting worse because it wants me to sleep 💔 so i'll end this here and start my season 13 detox :) i can't believe i only have 40 episodes left of this show. it feels so unreal, and it actually makes me want to skip the detox and keep going, but i know i'll regret that decision so i'll be diligent and read my wincest porn to cope with bad writing.

[velmautism]

The Dreamlike Tint to the Shades of Secrecy

...Or, the rewrite of Witch's Ghost, if it took place in the Inception universe that I wrote for funsies.

Synopsis: Famous horror writer Ben Ravencroft finds himself the mark for a little-known but notoriously proficient group of information gatherers. Little do they know, he knows exactly who they are and what they do– after all, what author hasn't happened across sketchy information before?

What do they want? Can he make them help him find some information he's looking for, after he's had his fun running them in circles?

Word count: 12,097

Ben Ravencroft blinks back to awareness, having seemingly been lost in thought. He shakes his head to clear the lingering cloud of confusion around him and drums his fingers on the surface of his writing desk, which helps to bring back his clarity of mind. Was he writing? His keyboard is pushed off to the side, as if he needed the space clear for something.

"Before we begin our interview," one of the women in front of him says, and he raises his head as she extends her hand for him to shake, "I just wanted to say it's a dream come true to be here, Mister Ravencroft."

He recognizes this woman immediately, with her auburn bob and oversized square-framed glasses. An eager smile lights up her rounded features, and the redhead next to her rolls her eyes good-naturedly. Both are seated across from his writing desk, and the redhead seems to be armed with a handheld audio recorder.

He knows who both of these women are, but the pretense they're presenting him with obviously means they don't know that. They probably don't know he suspects he's dreaming, either.

Despite being dressed in professional suits and behaving otherwise, they're not journalists.

They're thieves.

Well, not the typical sort of thief he'd expect to see in his mansion– they're not after wealth. They're after something much more valuable. They're after information. He knows something they don't, and they're here to coax... no, extract it out of him.

What they're after, he isn't sure of yet. Better to play along and figure it out, rather than immediately lay his cards on the table.

"I am a huge fan of your work," she continues as he grasps her hand and shakes it firmly. "I've read all your books, which, in my opinion, are the best horror stories ever written!"

"Er, thanks," he responds easily, playing right into her ruse. He wonders why he's finally face-to-face with this particular group, and what they want to know. "That's very kind, Miss..."

"Daly," she asserts with ease. "Linda Daly." The name rolls off her tongue as naturally as it would if it had really been her name all her life, and he knows she must use this particular false name with everyone.

But he knows better, and he knows her name is not Linda Daly.

Her name is Velma Dinkley, and previous curiosity has led him to research as much as he can about her and her friends.

She's a mastermind in every sense of the word, plotting and planning the finest details of every job she runs with ruthless efficiency. She operates similarly to how he's already handled her, and has likely researched him extensively. He wonders if she knows he knows her. It's too bad he's made a larger public name for himself– she probably knows more about him than he does about her. Well, hopefully that's soon to change.

Velma is rarely, if ever, seen apart from the sort-of leader of her little team of thieves– Daphne Blake, the motivating drive and task manager behind extraction who allegedly knows everything there is to know about getting into someone's head. Even working as a pair these two are formidably deceptive according to past clients, but he knows that somewhere nearby their cohorts, Fred and... Shaggy, was it..? may be around. Maybe they're here in the dream as well, but he suspects they're up above.

That's why, he resolves, he's going to keep his mouth shut. Why ruin their attempt at secrecy before he knows exactly what they want from him? Why ruin Linda's Velma's expectations for him, if she thinks he's in the dark?

Plus, they're good at uncovering secrets. If he plays along, can they help him?

"Just couldn't help yourself, could you?" Daphne asks, blue eyes twinkling mischievously, and it's then that Ben realizes Velma's comment on his books being her favorite is genuine. "I'm Kelly Kensington," she lies.

Interesting! He can work with this, he thinks.

"Oh, I find it quite flattering," he responds easily, patting Velma's hand once before letting go. "I've admired the supernatural and the occult for a long time, Miss Daly. Research on them led me to try to unearth all of the secrets of the supernatural world, and that inspired me to start writing horror novels."

"And I have to say, they're a hit," Daphne says, and he knows what she's doing. She's the extractor– she's trying to use her tricks to keep his attention with her, to get deeper into his head. "With more people than just Linda, that is. They say you're reshaping the horror genre as we know it, with gruesome frights and often-graphic depictions of the supernatural, as well as fantastic characters. Plenty of authors of fiction, regardless of genre, claim they create their best characters when they use real-life muses as inspiration. Is that true for you as well, Mister Ravencroft?"

Interesting question, he thinks. She must be dancing around the heart of what she actually wants to extract, so he starts to formulate what she might be looking for– information on someone he knows? Could she even be alluding to Sarah? If he's going to pry the reason they're here out of them, Velma might ironically be the weak link. He wants to keep his attention on her, he decides.

He smiles. "Oh, absolutely. One has to draw inspiration from somewhere, right? I often find myself taking small traits, habits, and quirks I've observed from others and pepper them into my characters. It's a good way to breathe life into a story, to make the frights they experience that much more gripping for the reader. People-watching is probably a writer's best time investment. Now, if you don't mind me asking a question, I'm curious to know if you have a favorite character I've written, Miss Daly."

She flushes a bit pink at that, clearly not expecting him to try to hold her attention. He's set a trap, and she seems to be falling right into it. Since he's certain of who she is, he suspects that the detail-orientedness intrinsic to her job will help him deduce her motives. He just has to pick up the clues from her.

"Oh, how could I pick just one?" she starts. "Well... if I had to, I'd probably say that creepy jewelry store owner from 'The Dead Mall.' I just couldn't put it down until I understood her motives, she was an incredibly complex character!"

So she likes enigmas, he figures. She likes puzzles, and enjoys trying to solve people.

That's absolutely fascinating to him.

He enjoys the very same thing.

It's too bad, really, that she's trying to solve the wrong side of him...

"Oh, a marvelous choice. She was one of my favorite characters to write, but I was never sure if she'd be well-received. I'd think that since you work with the general public, you journalists would be fairly good at understanding people and what motivates them. If I kept you guessing, I'll take that as a compliment on my writing."

He means every word of that, too. If her job is research and deep-dives on her marks, keeping her guessing is a tribute to his writing ability.

She falls prey to flattery quite easily, he starts to suspect as she titters. At the very least, she obviously enjoys the chance to really be able to speak with him. Everything he's dug up on her only speaks for her skills and abilities– meeting her, he's gone in completely blind to her actual personality. He wasn't sure what to expect, but he's finding himself more and more fascinated by this analyst the longer he interacts with her.

"Wow," Daphne says, and her smile is just a little too tight-lipped to be genuine. "Who would have thought the author of such dark stories would be so charismatic? I would have thought you darker and more... well, brooding, being a famous horror writer."

He responds good-naturedly, "Aw, just because I write gruesome stories and happen to be fascinated by macabre subjects, that doesn't necessarily mean I have to be edgy and morbid."

Daphne laughs shortly, and it's almost blatantly apparent she doesn't entirely like dealing with him, nor does she entirely believe in this facade he's putting up.

"I agree, but I'm curious now that you've brought up your interests– what sort of research into, as you put it, 'macabre subjects' do you usually do? Do you do any, in order to make your stories more realistic?"

Of course he does. It's how he knows about them in the first place.

Velma shoots Daphne a look, one Ben can't decipher the meaning of.

"Well, of course I do, Miss Kensington," he responds. "Any author realistically would. After all, I can't very well write horror if I don't have an appetite for it."

The slightest hint of a knowing smile stretches across Daphne's lips, and she leans in closer to him.

"And have you ever come across anything... particularly dark or disturbing? Something no one would expect to find out, with any level of depth of research?"

If Ben's hunch is accurate, they are poking at the secret he's thinking about. Not like he's particularly ashamed of it, but he can see why it would seem particularly scandalous. But if he's going to play a single card, he has to make sure he has his 'in.'

"You two sound like you're getting at something," he says simply, then he lets that hang in the air. It works as intended– both tense, and Daphne leans back defensively. They share another quick glance at each other, but neither speaks. He chuckles, dissipating the tension in the air. "I'm an open book- whatever is on your mind, you go on ahead and ask."

They both look relieved, and Daphne looks to Velma again– a question without asking it. Velma nods once, very quickly and very briefly.

"Mister Ravencroft," Daphne says softly, as if informing him of very dire news, "there are rumors going around that you have... a bit of a dark family secret concerning your lineage and ancestry. Is this true?"

Bingo.

They aren't the first people to try to dig up that dirty little family secret, but they're certainly the most clever. But now he has the advantage of knowing exactly what their gambit is. He rarely gets asked about it anymore, and while the honest answer is yes he's always been very careful about keeping his lies vague.

Of course he knows about it– only the Ravencrofts do. It's a wicked family story, the story of the Scourge of Oakhaven. All public accounts and records of the incident were buried hundreds of years ago when she was imprisoned, in order to maintain and preserve the integrity of the family name. The Ravencrofts are an old family in Oakhaven, and even without the aid of evil sorcery they're very powerful.

Influence mixed with the passage of time has done wonders for the memory of the nightmare the town had faced at her hands. As years have passed, they've all forgotten what had happened.

But the living Ravencrofts haven't.

Ben ignores the tape recorder in Daphne's hand and gives a quick conspiratorial glance around the room, as if making sure nobody else is listening in. Then he leans in, folding his hands on his desk. His display of secrecy works, and the two women draw closer.

"Well," he murmurs, "as a matter of fact... I have an ancestor who lived here hundreds of years ago– Sarah Ravencroft." He pauses for effect, and the two wait silently for him to continue with rapt interest. "She was persecuted in the 1600s, here in Oakhaven... as an evil witch."

Velma gasps softly, but Daphne looks relatively unfazed by this confession.

"I don't believe a word of it, though," he continues, in order to lure them further in.

He can't quite give them what they want, not without getting something in return. By leaving them in suspense, he hopes he'll inspire them to do a little more digging to uncover the full truth. If this is a dream, he's willing to let them prod at his subconscious if it'll help him find what he's looking for– it's evaded him in the real world for far too long.

"The notion that she was an evil witch is ridiculous. Sarah Ravencroft was a healer, a medicine woman. She practiced natural remedies for patients who couldn't see a doctor, for one reason or another. Matter of fact, it's even said that she kept a journal of all of her patients and remedies."

Daphne and Velma share another look.

"Could we see this journal, Mister Ravencroft?" Daphne asks.

He laughs shortly. "If I had it, I'd be only too happy to show it to you, Miss Kensington. Sadly, she was found guilty of sorcery and sentenced to death by execution. All of her relics were lost. It's a shame– that journal could be instrumental in proving her innocence, but it may never again see the light of day."

Velma thinks this through for just a moment.

"Lost or destroyed?" she finally asks, and Ben can't help but grin.

"Only lost," he responds innocently, and if the spark in their eyes is any indication this was exactly what they wanted to hear. This is what they've been looking for.

Good.

Him, too.

~☆°~•~°☆~

These people are good, Ben thinks as he meanders alongside them, at what they do.

He'd expected them to be put off by his insistence on wandering Oakhaven after they had conducted their "interview," but now he sees exactly why they've taken him up on his offer.

If he hadn't known he was dreaming from the get-go, he'd have fallen right for it. He knows this with absolute certainty. Every landmark and point of interest he's passed thus far is exactly where it belongs– Molly Parken's Bed and Breakfast, Jack's restaurant, the post office, the bakery, the landmarks. The layout is nearly identical to the town he grew up in. But there's a subtle twist right in the details, something he wouldn't have caught if he wasn't looking: anything commercial and not of note; specifically skyscrapers and buildings where he'd expect to find a law firm, office, or other general business setting; is left completely bare and nondescript. His eye is automatically drawn to the points of interest, strategically placed so he's meant to ignore everything else.

He isn't sure if this is a strength in the design or a weakness. If it's a weakness, it's blatant why it would be– an entire town is difficult to replicate, even a small one. If it's a strength, he supposes it may serve to remind the dreamers they're dreaming. Either way, he's absolutely certain he isn't supposed to be looking this deep, with the way Daphne and Velma are struggling to hold his attention as they make their way to the town square.

He can only attribute this level of detail to their architect, Fred Jones. According to his sources, the man's aptitude for building entire dream worlds is legendary. Knowing what he's researched, it's likely that even if the lack of description in the town is a weakness, he's found a clever way to work around it.

All around them, there's more foot traffic than he's used to seeing in town. He wonders if it's their doing, or his. Every face looks unfamiliar but vaguely familiar, and occasionally one or two turns to stare at Daphne and Velma with what he can only describe as wary curiosity. They look completely unbothered by it– must be part of the job. But he notices the stares, and his eyes catch on everything they try to divert his attention from.

The idle chatter they engage him in is opposite to how what he's decided to call Faux-haven is laid out– mundane enough to keep him off his guard, but occasionally peppered with points of interest: Sarah, the history of the town, the record of her execution. Velma bombards him with idle chitchat about his books, and Daphne waits for the right times to ask the right questions.

It's a clever ruse, he thinks, but it's too bad he's seen right through it from the very beginning. Daphne is starting to look rather frustrated with her fruitless attempts to get answers out of him– he's good at dodging the truth without flat-out changing the subject. Velma, however, looks happy as a clam.

She doesn't look at all guilty of what she's trying to do, though.

Then again, he's sure he doesn't either.

This back-and-forth continues all the way up until they reach the City Park, and Ben spots a face he finally has every reason to recognize.

What's he doing here? Is it because of Ben, or because of them?

"Mayor? Mayor Corey?" he asks aloud, and the mayor turns around.

"Ben, my boy!" he exclaims as a grin stretches across his face. "I thought I recognized your car– I'm glad you could come home to help plan this year's Autumnfest! It's gonna be extra spectacular this time around, you just wait!"

Right, he thinks, Autumnfest. The biggest thing little-old-Oakhaven is known best for, but 'big' may be too nice a word to describe the event. It happens, the second weekend of every October, and draws in maybe a few extra leaf peepers looking for some spectacular fall color.

It isn't a bad festival by any means, and it's a nice tradition for the town. But it's... not the most popular.

Plus, it looks like it's currently late spring.

Mayor Corey has always been a little too excited about Autumnfest and the meager tourism it attracts, but never enough to try to plan the event six months in advance.

There must be a reason they've intentionally programmed Autumnfest into the dream. He just has to wait to figure it out.

"I see you brought some..." Mayor Corey pauses. His eyes land on Daphne and Velma, and then narrow slightly as they shift from the women to Ben, then back to the women. It's obvious he's just as suspicious of them as Daphne seems to be of Ben.

"Journalists," he responds calmly, and Corey seems to relax just slightly. "And hopefully future guests at Autumnfest. This is Linda Daly, and Kelly Kensington," he introduces them.

With Ben's willingness to let them in, it seems the figures in his mind are somewhat content to stay calm. Mayor Corey laughs it off and extends his hand, which Daphne takes first.

"Well, welcome! The more, the merrier!"

"But I have a question– what's going to make Autumnfest 'extra spectacular' this year?" Ben asks, just to skip past their farce and get to the heart of the matter. "Don't you think it's a little too soon to be thinking about something that won't even begin until October?"

"Well, I'm glad you asked," he says. "We've been working on a little project, in order to bring in more tourists year-round. We've begun construction on a recreation of a Puritan village, and we've been been digging up relics left and right. We finally found it– something big. We found Sarah Ravencroft's grave marker."

"Her grave marker?" he asks, feigning interest. Clearly, this information is entirely fictitious. Sarah's grave marker, in the real world, has probably been lost beneath centuries of mulch.

Velma and Daphne have added Mayor Corey to this world on purpose, as a means of benefiting their narrative. They must simply be depending on Ben and his memories to fill in the blanks on Corey's personality.

At least it makes sense now. They're using Autumnfest and the spookiness associated with Halloween to continue to drag on this Sarah business.

Still, it does work to his advantage.

"Aye-uh, we sure did!" He pauses. "...But nothing else, I'm afraid. No bones."

"What about a book?" he asks again, just to continue to appear like he's in the dark.

"A book?"

"You know how long I've been searching for Sarah's journal, Mayor, to..!" He pretends to compose himself, and takes a deep breath before lowering his voice. "To officially clear our family name."

He's been searching for that damned book for a long time, that much is true. But his reasoning certainly isn't.

"Well, hold on a minute, Ben, this secrecy about Sarah's true nature might be a good thing. Because that's what's going to make Autumnfest a better attraction– a publicity stunt, courtesy of the appearance of the Witch's Ghost!"

Ben almost doubles over with laughter, then and there. It's so absurdly like the real Mayor Corey, thinking of creating a hokey publicity stunt as a means of boosting popularity. It absolutely must be his mind supplying Mayor Corey with his personality– there's no way either of these two would be able to capture just how ridiculous he can be.

Instead of laughing himself silly, Ben falls back on his old standby of feigning ignorance and absolute innocence.

"Witch's Ghost?!" he asks indignantly. "That's ridiculous– I thought we'd gotten past all of this witch nonsense!"

In reality, they haven't– it's one of the biggest things he's still at odds with Mayor Corey about. Mayor Corey is right, of course, but admitting to it would lose Ben any sympathy he has in Oakhaven. No one in that pathetic town can possibly understand the true power he's capable of wielding, and it's such a mortal response to fear what can't be understood.

Mayor Corey has no idea that the truth is buried right there in the very town hall he occupies every day, the truth that was finally buried in the mid-1660s. The truth that Sarah was evil. The truth that Ben's potential power far outweighs what Corey believes his mayoral status carries.

All Corey has is his superstition. And superstition, even if true, is for fools.

"What can I say, Ben? It's undeniable that she was persecuted as a witch in 1657!"

"Unjustly persecuted!" he doubles down, taking a step forward just to drive his point home. "Sarah Ravencroft was a medicine woman who practiced natural healing, and was unfairly accused because of her eccentric ways!"

"Just like the Salem witch trials," Velma interjects, smiling calmly in spite of the tension Ben's pretended to create. "Many men and women who were a bit different, or didn't conform to the codes of the colony, suffered the same fate. As a matter of fact, Massachusetts legislature is even working to pass an act to exonerate the thirty men and women who were found guilty, and name them innocent. In the meantime, the descendants of the victims have been working to establish their ancestors' innocence. It's no wonder you've been searching for that book for so long, Ben. Whether or not Sarah was alone in this town in standing trial for witchcraft and sorcery, Oakhaven may never get the public recognition Salem did."

Ben's completely stunned by her spouting off this much information– does she actually believe him? Is it working out in his favor that he happens to be her favorite author? Or is it simply her will to pursue knowledge and fact manifesting in how she behaves?

Either way, he thinks, he can really use this to his advantage.

He was smart to keep his attention on her. He intends to keep it up.

"I'm impressed, Velma," he says, just to watch her eyes light up. It's almost adorable, just how wrapped around his finger he has her. Daphne rolls her eyes. "It means a lot to have someone on my side." He casts an annoyed glance at Mayor Corey, who feigns offense.

Real or not real, every iteration of him Ben has ever crossed has been insufferable.

Daphne gets over her annoyance.

"Well, I never knew that Oakhaven had its own witch trials," she says. "Is there anywhere in town to commemorate or acknowledge what happened? A public statement? It would make a good attraction to bounce to after visiting the Puritan village, I think."

Oh, interesting. His memory must reflect off of the people in his dream. Mayor Corey knows what she's talking about, but he looks a little torn between the two truths Ben knows. He knows what Ben knows, but Corey's not supposed to know.

"There sure is, my girl!" he finally exclaims cheerfully. "I'll walk you there, if you'd like."

"Would I ever," Daphne responds with just as much enthusiam. That's cute, Ben thinks. She thinks she's going to get any better information out of Mayor Corey than she's gotten out of Ben, and she thinks this is a good thing. But he figures working at suppressing what he knows has worked thus far, and he wonders if he can limit what she'll find even further.

But this does present him with a slight problem. She'll have to realize, eventually, that he knows what's going on. The clock is ticking faster, if he's going to have any hope of learning what he wants to know.

He's going to have to improve his tactics, he concludes.

He's going to have to work harder at cracking Velma.

This analyst has been so eager to demonstrate her intelligence. It's high time Ben gives her the chance to show him what she can do.

"Do you want to go too, Linda?" he asks, purposely addressing her more personally. "Or, I'm going to Jack's for lunch. You're welcome to join me, if you'd like. We can talk more about Sarah there."

A small inkling of him wonders if she'll forgive him for what he's planning to do.

Then he quells it.

What use is there in wondering about something so useless? Why would he need her forgiveness or understanding, if he has all the power he could ever want at his fingertips?

Her eyes light up again, but there's a distinct look behind them that catches him completely off guard. She looks thrilled, but in the same way he would think a spider would if something crawled into her web.

Then she beams, and the feeling is lost on him.

He's getting nervous, now that he's so close to getting what he wants. Velma isn't the people person. Velma isn't the experienced liar. Daphne is. Ben is.

"Would I ever!" she exclaims, clasping her hands together in front of her. "I'll meet up with you later, Kelly!"

"Okay," Daphne responds with total ambivalence, and then she's off with the fake mayor.

Ben steals a quick glance back at Velma.

The sunlight shines across her dark brown eyes completely innocuously.

Exactly the way he expects it to.

~☆°~•~°☆~

While the other people in his dream have been rather short with Velma and Daphne at first glance, Jack is his usual bubbly cloying self.

Ben has never thought of Jack as the sharpest tool in the shed. All he thinks about is cooking and generally acting a little too sycophantic for his own good.

So it's either that, or his conscious decision to continue to allow Velma to poke around in his mind has helped his subconscious, on some level, acclimate to her presence.

Either way, his influence completely shapes just how welcome she is in his dream.

He finds that completely fascinating. If he really wanted to, he could probably snap his fingers and see her torn to shreds by several angry faces.

But he doesn't want to.

He wants her to be completely off her guard, and comfortable enough around him to give something vital away.

So Jack's warm welcome is nothing but a boon, as well as his insistence on seating them near the back of the restaurant– his V.I.P. area, he's always called it.

The restaurant is immaculate, much like the rest of the hotspots he's seen within Faux-haven. Everything is just the way he remembers it– down to the ring stains on the tables he passes as Jack guides them to the booth in the back.

"Order anything you want," he tells her as she sits across from him. "It's on me."

"Oh!" she exclaims. "That's alright, I can foot my own bill."

Of course she can, he thinks with mild irritation. This isn't a real restaurant, after all. And even if it were somehow real against all odds, he supposes the work she does keeps her plenty stable financially.

But he's determined to keep playing to her good side, just to dig in a little deeper.

"No, really," he says, reaching across the table for her– he doesn't exactly grab her hand, that's far too intimate. He just rests his on top of hers, then pats it for emphasis.

Her eyes meet his, and he hits her with his most disarming smile. She seems to be trying to read his intention for a long moment.

While he keeps smiling at her patiently, he can't help it when his eyes flick downward very slightly and land on her slightly-parted lips– she's uncertain, in territory she's not used to being in. There's a certain appeal to throwing curveballs at her in an environment she's probably usually quite comfortable in. There's appeal in testing the limits of what she can control.

While he very much enjoys pushing her out of her comfort zone while in her own damn element, he knows he can't keep it up any longer than a few seconds. So he lets go of her.

"I insist," he says.

She's silent for another beat, then she finally shrugs.

"Alright, if you insist," she says, as casually as she would have if she hadn't been trying to solve him just a few seconds ago.

He can't explain why, but her dismissive attitude is mildly irritating. There's something about Velma that appeals to him much more than the other dreamer, and it's not just that she's likely to provide him with more information.

He doesn't just want to get into her head. He wants to get under her skin.

He wants to know what makes her tick.

But he exhales softly, then lets it go.

He can't have it both ways, and he wants that journal a thousand times more than he wants to figure her out.

He just smiles back at her. "I do– Jack always knocks a bit off my bill, anyway."

"Oh," Velma says, and he's not quite sure why she's using that tone. It sounds like this is news she wishes she'd have known. "That's awfully nice of him," she continues brightly, but he still can't help but wonder what's going on in that head of hers.

The two sit in silence until Jack comes by to drop off glasses of water for each and take their orders.

An idea crosses his mind, and he clears his throat as Velma lifts her water glass to her lips.

"I'll just have my usual, Jack," he says jovially, and Velma freezes mid-sip.

There is something going on with Jack that she's worried about. But what?

"Oh, quit kiddin' around, Ben," Jack says, leaning over just to nudge him lightly with his elbow. "Unless it's a cup of black coffee, you don't have a regular order with a rotating menu!"

Then he laughs heartily, and Ben's suspicion immediately dissipates. He had honestly been expecting this manifestation of his subconscious to make something up, but this is exactly how Jack would respond.

Velma seems to relax as she sets her glass down, and Ben can't help but wonder what that was about.

Maybe she had been more confident in Mayor Corey acting like himself– he does have a more distinct personality, and is a much more prominent figure in Oakhaven.

It makes some sense, at least. But if he's meant to fill these manifestations of people he knows with their personalities, why would she have any reason to worry?

Maybe it has to do with Ben himself, he figures.

But now that he's put himself slightly on blast for acting out of the ordinary, it looks like she's watching him more closely. So he just has no way to ask her about it, or figure her out.

That's fine– he has bigger fish to fry.

They both order, and Jack leaves them alone so they can finally start conversing again.

"So," Velma finally says after a moment, "tell me more about Sarah. She sounds like she was a lovely person."

"Oh! Where to begin?" He thinks on what lies he hasn't told her quite yet. "Well, she was lovely. Of course, she wasn't very popular with the town's doctors. Sarah was untraditional in her approach to medicine. She was a Wiccan."

Velma nods in understanding, and Ben can't help himself.

"I take it you know a good bit about them?"

She nods again, smiling. "I've done a good bit of reading about them. So when you said she was a natural healer, you weren't kidding. I take it that not only did she use natural and herbal remedies, she also practiced energy work– however that manifested back in the 1600s."

"Exactly. She believed in the power of the Earth and its gifts, and used it to heal the sick. She helped many people who simply couldn't afford, access, or abide by medical treatment. She practiced under an ancient oak tree, which she believed to have potent magical properties."

Velma's eyes light up brightly for a second.

"Well, I saw a huge oak tree in the town square. Would she bury her journal in a place like that, if she thought she was going to be persecuted?"

She's caught on to the possibility of the book being buried under an oak tree faster than he ever did, in spite of knowing Sarah frequently used the tree to draw power.

For some reason, her suggestion draws the attention of everyone sitting in their vicinity, but she completely ignores their burning stares while her eyes remain on him.

"I've already searched that very tree," he responds truthfully, "but never found anything."

At that, she falters.

"Oh..."

She sinks into her seat, and finally seems to become aware of the eyes on her. He isn't sure of what exactly she's done, but she must have jumped the gun in some respect and drew their attention without having all of the facts.

It was a good try at helping him, he thinks, even if she was a little too eager. She seems to be just as full of anticipation as he is, and now the two are watching each other with equal levels of suspicion. But unlike Velma, Ben has the added benefit of being able to enjoy watching her squirm under the hateful eyes of his own subconscious.

While Ben wishes he had his hands on that spellbook already, he's really beginning to enjoy this delightful game of cat-and-mouse with Velma Dinkley.

When all is said and done, he's going to savor every moment he's spent with her.

~☆°~•~°☆~

In spite of conversing with Velma the entire time, the meal proves to be no more fruitful in coming up with ideas of where that damned spellbook could possibly be.

That, and in spite of behaving normally otherwise Jack never knocked anything off Ben's total.

Which is fine, it's not as if it affects him in any real sense. But it's quite strange, all things considered. Everything else was perfectly right, save for that one little thing he missed.

Ben wouldn't have even thought to double-check his receipt, if Velma hadn't inadvertently brought it to his attention.

But that isn't the only thing.

While the other patrons in the restaurant had regarded Velma with an air of hostility, Jack had acted even more oblivious than Ben would have attested to him.

While he can't help but wonder why, he's still completely wrapped up in trying to pry answers out of Velma by answering her questions about Sarah.

And answers still aren't forthcoming.

As the sky begins to darken in anticipation of nightfall, he can't help but feel as if his time is nearly up. Surely, Daphne has found something by now that incriminates him, and that will give her a reason to back out and withdraw from her mission.

A double failure.

It would count as a success on Ben's part, he supposes, if he prevents the group from revealing the truth he's worked to bury... but it would be a bitter success, if he also ends up with nothing to show for their little visit.

But on the other hand, the more time Velma spends around him, the more it seems like she's buying into his Wiccan Sarah story.

He wonders if there's some level of personal attachment in it for her. Maybe not– he's heard that while her loyalty toward her friends in that extraction group isn't at all questionable, she's not as invested in finding what her clients want as much as she is in finding truth.

If he thinks about it from a logical standpoint, there are a lot more Wiccans in the world than there are spellcasters. So, in spite of what she's here to do, she's... on his side. She believes him, and she's almost as eager to find the book as he is.

Almost.

He's truly made the smartest choice in getting in good with her.

As the two exit the restaurant and start to wander back toward Faux-haven City Park, another voice he recognizes grabs his attention:

"Hey, Ben!"

He and Velma both turn around at the same time.

"Hi, Mr. McKnight," he greets the pharmacist, just as he casts a withering glare at Velma before deliberately stepping straight between her and Ben.

Velma steps behind him and shrugs at Ben, but makes no further attempt to approach him again.

"Welcome home! Mayor Corey said you were back, and I was hoping to catch you to say hi. Here, want to look at the t-shirt design I commissioned for this year's Autumnfest? I think they're going to be a hit!"

McKnight unfurls a sheet of paper, which he passes to Ben– it's the gaudiest design for a shirt he's ever seen, and he immediately knows it would absolutely turn a killer profit. A green ghost is drawn casting a fireball on the city below, with text above her reading 'I Met the Ghost of Oakhaven- And Lived!'

Ben silently folds the paper back up and hands it back to McKnight.

Velma looks amused from behind him, and Ben can't help but share it in silence.

"Didn't Mayor Corey already tell you I don't want you using Sarah's image as part of a publicity stunt?" Ben asks, feigning frustration.

"Ben..." McKnight sighs. "Please, just reconsider. The tourist trade has gotten so slow– haven't you said before that the supernatural always grabs people's attention?"

He sure has, once upon a time. But only to Mayor Corey, when he was still writing his early novels.

"Then make up a ghost that doesn't use Sarah's image."

"But Sarah is the only real tie we have to the supernatural in our town history," McKnight presses.

This is like him, Ben thinks wryly. Following along with Mayor Corey's stupid ideas, just because he can't think up anything better.

"You think I'm going to abide by you lining your pockets by dragging her name through the mud? After I've spent years searching for her journal just to clear our family name?"

"Her journal?" McKnight asks before shaking his head. "Ben, you've searched everywhere for that thing and come up with nothing!" He breathes in deeply to compose himself. "Maybe it's time to give up the search– if that book even exists, it could be anywhere from Miller's Creek to the Stumps!"

Ben knows this much is true, but hearing it from his own subconscious is absolutely infuriating. Before he has any time to process his frustration, let alone respond, something very visibly clicks in that head of Velma's and she gasps before straightening at the waist. Ben can practically see the gears in her brain turning, and he wonders what she's thinking.

"The Stumps?" she finally asks.

"Yes," McKnight says curtly. "The Stumps."

She turns to Ben with a questioning look in her eyes, and Daphne decides that moment is the perfect moment to zip out of the town hall with what looks like papers in her hands and Mayor Corey right on her heels.

"What does he mean, the Stumps?" Velma asks, oblivious to her cohort making an appearance behind her.

"Oakhaven used to turn a profit from the lumber in our forest, back in the 1800s. In 1973 the town finally voted to put a stop to local deforestation," Ben explains. "We never cleared that area, so we just starting calling it the Stumps."

"Well, Ben," she says as if she's made a revelation, just as Daphne rests a hand on her shoulder from behind. "You don't think..?"

"Hold that thought, Linda," Daphne interrupts. "I just got a memo from..." she decides to drops the ruse right then, and Ben can see it as she casts him a glare before shoving a the papers into Velma's hands. "Oh, forget it. Just look."

As Velma examines whatever is on those papers and Daphne stares down Mayor Corey, who stands by as if ready to pounce, Ben takes the opportunity to try to follow her train of thought.

Deforestation, the Stumps... OH.

Of course, it's so obvious! The answer strikes him like a freight train, how stupid he was to never consider that he had been searching around the wrong oak tree for years!

But it makes perfect sense– there must be remnants, somewhere in the Stumps, of what had once been an impressive oak tree.

And he had never noticed it, all along, because it had been cut down hundreds of years ago!

His mind starts to race at a thousand miles per hour.

If his thoughts have any influence on the dream, he can't let it warp to show them what he's thinking about. His memory of the forest will only give the book's location in the real world away! He needs to resurface, fast, before they get the information he wants. If Velma hasn't even heard of the Stumps, there's no way she'll know how to get to it!

He forces himself to slow down. This is a dream, and it's in his mind. That means he ought to be in control of it.

And control means leaving, now that he's ready to. If he wants to leave before time is up, he knows exactly how to go about it. That's the second-biggest piece of information he knows about dreamsharing, and none of his sources have been wrong.

Well, that's not entirely true. The only thing his sources have been wrong about thus far is just how versed in matters of the mind this team of thieves is. He's pulled the wool right over their eyes!

He closes his eyes and focuses his thoughts. He needs a way to "die," quickly. Cold metal finds its way into the palm of his hand, and his finger curls around the trigger.

There's no need to allow them to remain welcome, he decides, and it's as if a switch is flipped. From all sides, his subconscious turns toward Daphne and Velma and begins to converge on them.

There's going to be someone up above when he wakes up, he knows. Someone who administered whatever was allowing Daphne and Velma to tap into his dreams. He'll have to play this carefully.

"I have to hand it to you, Miss Daly," he sneers.

Daphne and Velma meet his gaze as their shoulders are gripped firmly by multiple angry projections, and Ben grins triumphantly at them.

"That information you've given me will be most invaluable," he says. "Thank you– you two have been so very helpful."

Before her face is obscured by the faces of an angry mob swarming around her and Daphne, Velma's eyes lock on Ben's.

Then he could almost swear she smiles at him. A pleased smile, one that matches the downright predatory stare she had hit him with earlier.

No. He can't let her continue to distract him.

He raises the gun to his head, and he wakes up.

~☆°~•~°☆~

His eyelids flutter before his consciousness snaps back to him, and he remembers to pretend he's still under.

There's a fire burning in his vicinity. Flames crackle softly, and the smell of wood smoke permeates the room. He's laying on top of a flat surface, but there's thin but plushy cushioning between him and solid ground.

He cracks one eye open ever so slightly, just to peek and see if anyone is awake in his vicinity.

Through barely-open eyes, he spots a head of yellow hair hovering right above him... that must be Fred Jones, in the flesh. It's too bad, he thinks, that the architect of Faux-haven never got to bask in the attention to his own detail!

He peeks off to the side, and sees the device they must be using to share dreams– a briefcase-shaped device, with a cluster of circuitry and tubing running out of it. One such tube runs directly out of the device and into his arm.

Fred must notice something off, Ben realizes as he looks back up. His sharp blue eyes snap over to focus on Ben, and he moves until he's hovering over him.

Fred crouches down, reaching right over Ben and fiddling with the drip line in his wrist.

Ben uses Fred's lack of preparedness and position to strike straight upwards with the heel of his palm. The hit lands directly on the underside of Fred's jaw, and stuns the architect unconscious.

Velma and Daphne groan softly as they both begin to wake up, and Ben quickly rips the tube out of his arm and sits up.

He's in his own study!

Daphne's quick to alertness, but as her eyes snap open Ben's land on the large red button in the center of the device– if he's right, that administers whatever put him under the first time.

He presses the button with haste, and both women exhale deeply as they're plunged back into the dream.

Perfect. He needs them all slowed down.

But he's only encountered three... where's the fourth? Where's..?

Oh.

His eyes land on Shaggy, who lays right between Daphne and Velma with a line in his own wrist.

He had been in the dream all along.

But where? Ben thinks, then he thinks on what Shaggy is known for, and it all makes sense.

Shaggy is a master of disguise in the dream, or so Ben heard. Usually preferring to take on nondescript characters, but occasionally known to disguise as familiar faces to retrieve more information by lulling his marks into a false sense of security.

Jack.

He mimicked the restaurant owner and his mannerisms flawlessly, but made a mistake when handling Ben's receipt.

That's why he was friendly with Velma even when the other figures in Oakhaven weren't, Ben realizes.

Ohhh, they're clever. They're very clever.

It's too bad he's more clever.

He springs to his feet, and his eyes rise above the mantle of the fireplace. Sarah Ravencroft's portrait stares back down at him, and it all comes rushing back to him.

He remembers finishing his writing and being ready to retire for the evening, but hearing strange noises coming from the mansion.

He remembers calling out into the dimness in the hallway outside of his study, asking who was there.

What luck, what fortune it is that it was a team of extractors trying to catch him off-guard, he thinks gleefully! And not just any team of extractors, but the very same ones he could find information on!

Oh, fate must finally be on his side, now that he knows where the spellbook is. He's right there in Oakhaven, right where he wants to be!

It must have been a matter of convenience to them– pry his knowledge out of him, then sneak off and find the evidence of it right in the real world.

But they've made a fatal mistake in trusting that his dark family secret was merely some dirty laundry.

They have no idea what he's about to unleash.

While the team is still unconscious, he makes a mad dash to his Cadillac. He doesn't know if they have a vehicle, but getting to the Stumps as quickly as possible will serve him best– and they don't even know where he's going.

He does.

Before he grabs his keys, he retrieves a shovel. He's going to have some digging to do, and fast.

He bolts out of the mansion into the stark autumnal moonlight, and his hands begin to shake as he unlocks his car.

It's finally going to be his!

Sarah's spellbook will finally be found!

It feels as if no time passes between when he leaves his mansion and when he arrives at the final stretch of the main road leading off into the forest, but time seems to resume normalcy when he arrives. He doesn't bother to lock the door when he steps outside. It's dark in the forest and the path is obscured by shadows, but a childhood in Oakhaven means he knows his way to the Stumps by heart.

Moonlight spills into the gap between trees as he arrives upon his former playground. Dead leaves rustle beneath his feet as he begins to survey the area for the largest, most impressive-looking oak stump.

All that time he had spent here in his youth, he'd played right over the burial spot of the most important artifact he'd ever come across.

It must have been destiny.

The spellbook was always going to belong to him.

His eyes finally land on what must be it– the largest remainder of a former tree, by far. The sides are rotted and decayed with moss and fungi sprouting up from beneath the bark, but there must be at least a hundred rings spiralling right into the center.

He doesn't know where to begin.

But, he thinks, he doesn't have forever.

So he picks a spot, and he starts to dig into the packed soil.

And dig.

And dig, until his shovel reaches a few feet down. His arms begin to ache fairly quickly given how deeply and frantically he's digging into the heavy earth, and his breath refuses to fully occupy his lungs. His palms begin to sting with the friction, but he's not even remotely close to any blisters cropping up.

It would be fine if his entire hand became a blister, he thinks, just as long as he manages to find that book to make it worth the trouble!

He can't afford to get tired, not while he's so close.

The first hole turns up nothing, but he has at least a solid 10 feet of circumference to circle.

Rather than go all the way around the diameter of the tree, he picks another spot a few inches away from the first hole and begins to dig again.

The second hole turns up nothing, and he continues along the side of the trunk with as much fervent energy as he can muster.

Then the worst sound he can imagine registers from a good distance away:

The slamming of car doors.

Third time's the charm, he thinks as he begins to dig again. If this is the extraction team on his heels, his time is running out.

Then his shovel thunks against something solid.

He raises the head, then pauses. Then he swiftly digs down again, and hits the same solid object.

It's not a rock. Hitting a rock with a shovel has a distinct feel and sound, and this sounds hollow when the shovel hits it.

But it doesn't feel like it could be the cover of a book, either.

A root, maybe?

No, it doesn't quite feel like that, either.

Curiously, he begins to widen the hole to try to get a glance at what he's struck.

It's too dark to make out what it is quite yet, so he reaches into the hole to see if he can identify it by touch.

His fingers brush against dirt etched into ancient and grooved wood, if the splintery feeling against his skin is any indication.

Carved wood, making a hollow thumping sound when struck with a shovel... A box!

He gasps in delight, springing back to his feet and grasping the shovel with renewed vigor.

He digs all around the box, until he finds the sides of it and can further unearth it. The closer he gets to being able to pull it free, the more he can see it– and the more promising it looks.

He isn't sure how deep into the earth this box is buried, but once he's cleared a few inches of dirt from around the sides he hears whispers in frantic voices and multiple people's footsteps heading towards him.

It's now or never.

He crouches down and reaches into the hole, and his fingers brush against a handle he can grab onto.

He begins to try to pull the box loose, but the remaining dirt caked to the handle causes him to lose his grip and slip back.

The footsteps draw nearer, and moving white lights begin to dance off the leaves– flashlights.

He gets a grip on the handle once again and braces himself, then pulls. The box stays firmly wedged into the ground, so he starts to wiggle it to the best of his ability.

The voices grow closer, the flashlight beams brighter.

The earth begins to give.

Then they enter the clearing– it is the extractors, and all of them immediately fan out in search of him.

He pauses for a fraction of a second to tighten his grip on the handle, and with one final pull he free the box from its resting place.

Alerted by the noise, one of the flashlight beams shines directly on him, then is cast downwards to land about two feet in front of him.

His eyes meet Velma's, and her expression is unreadable.

"I found him," she says aloud, though with no sense of urgency or anger. Just utter calm. Three more flashlights shine on her to locate her, then point away. She nods to him in acknowledgement of the box in his hands. "You find what you were looking for, Ben?" she continues, and her voice stays measured.

"I'm sure I have, Velma," he responds, glad he can finally drop the pretense of referring to her as Linda Daly.

Velma appears completely nonplussed by his statement, and flicks her flashlight off.

"How long were you aware?"

"Of what, who you are or the fact that I was dreaming the whole time? Because the answer, either way, is from the very beginning."

"Must've been pretty desperate to find that book, then," she says, "if you were willing to let us in."

Ben decides he likes her even more now that she's dropped the pretense of being a journalist. This stone-cold, analytical personality is exactly what he'd have expected from her in the beginning. Her nervousness seems to have dissipated, although he blames the fact that she doesn't know what he's retrieved.

The rest of the team approaches her from behind, but seems uncertain of what to do. Velma isn't the leader of this team by any means, but they must know she spent the most time around him and has the firmest grasp on what he's after.

"It seems fate was finally on my side. Because I knew about all of you before we met. Daphne Blake, Fred Jones, and Shaggy Rogers. You had me going," he admits, singling out the sandy-haired man in a crumpled suit jacket. "I didn't even realize you were posing as Jack, until I woke up and saw you."

"How did you figure that out?" Shaggy asks, genuine curiosity sparkling in his eyes.

"The receipt," Velma explains before Ben can. "Apparently, Jack knocks a few dollars off Ben's orders. Thanks for buying me lunch, by the way," she says dryly.

"If you hadn't tipped me off, I never would have thought to check. You know, I really couldn't have planned meeting the lot of you better, even if I'd have lured you here myself! But I just can't fathom who your client would be– what did they want?"

"The truth," Velma says. "About you. About your bloodline. The truth that must be in that little box."

Then she gives him a tight-lipped smile, and gestures at the box with her hand.

"So go ahead and open it, Ben. I'm not going to try to stop you."

Oh, she's about to wish she had.

Ben lifts the lid of the box, and it's exactly what he had hoped to find– an ancient tome with a massive skull etched into the cover, which glares at him menacingly as he removes it and lets the box fall to the ground.

He begins to flip through the pages, his heart pounding in his chest as he takes in the spidery handwriting scrawled across the ancient and withered pages.

It's finally his, in all of its wicked glory.

"That sure looks kind of evil, for a journal belonging to a Wiccan healer," Daphne comments from behind Velma, eyes narrowed.

"That's because it isn't a journal at all, is it?" Velma asks, and her strained smile remains etched on her face.

Ben grins broadly, glad he can finally drop his own pretenses.

"Of course it isn't, Velma. It's a spellbook," he sneers, drawing out the final word.

He waits for her to react, but all she does is take a single step back as her smile melts back into absolute neutrality.

"You see, Sarah wasn't a Wiccan. She was indeed a witch!" He hugs the spellbook to his chest, and while Velma keeps her eyes on him the rest of the team casts nervous glances back and forth.

"What did you guys find down there?" Fred asks, absolutely befuddled.

"The same thing I suspected from the beginning," Daphne says bitterly, fingers clenching around her flashlight. "That the truth existed, but was buried with Sarah. That she was a real witch. But he knew was I was looking for, and he intentionally redacted all of the relevant information."

"Of course I needed to at the time," he says, "because I couldn't just hand you the truth without getting what I want in return. But you helped me find it, and I don't care who knows anymore– Sarah was known at the Scourge of Oakhaven. And since her blood runs in my veins, I have the same prediliction for sorcery."

"So you lied to me the whole time," Velma states, and he wonders why she thinks she has any reason to spit any accusations at him when she's guilty of the same thing.

"And you didn't?" he asks.

"I never lied when I said I wanted to help you find it," Velma responded, and he's slightly dumbstruck. How can she admit to this, as if she doesn't regret being wrong?

Well, he needs to make her regret it.

"But there's more to it, more that you never even imagined," he says. "Because not only does this contain her power and every wicked scrap of knowledge she got her hands on... it contains Sarah Ravencroft herself. After her execution, her soul was bound right here within it– never dying, waiting for someone with her blood to free her. And that's exactly what I intend to do. I intend to unlock the power of the imprisoned Sarah Ravencroft!"

At that, Velma finally reacts. Her brows rise.

An inexplicable frustration seeps into Ben's bones. He's got exactly the reactions he expected from the rest of her friends, who tense to brace themselves in anticipation of imminent danger.

Does this woman feel anything at all?

She certainly knew how to fake it, at least.

Maybe he needs a different way to get under her skin.

"Why help me, anyway? Did you care for me, somewhere in that idiotic little head of yours? Believe me blindly, because you admired me? I always believed Mayor Corey, in his superstitious ways, was the biggest fool I knew. And then I met you. You, who so desperately clung to the belief that maybe Sarah was innocent, that I was innocent. You're incredibly naive. I tricked you into helping me, and it worked."

With that, a frown knits itself across Velma's brows, and she scowls at him. Her hands clench into fists, which she clutches at her sides.

Oh, so she only cares once he's made it personal.

"Oh, don't get me wrong," he simpers as he finally decides to flip through the spells in Sarah's spellbook, "I very much appreciate your help. It only worked to my advantage."

"The only thing I don't understand is why you let us in," Daphne says as she steps forward and rests a firm hand on Velma's shoulder. Velma pushes back, but Daphne keeps her rooted to the spot. "Why go through these elaborate smoke and mirrors? Why not just tell us you knew, and ask us to help you find the book? It would have helped all of us."

"Come on, Daphne," Velma snaps, pushing out from under the redhead's grip on her shoulder. "It's our job to lie. Besides, if he'd have asked, would you really have trusted him enough to help him?"

Daphne sighs, then shakes her head and looks back at Ben warily.

"I knew there was something about you," she says venomously. "Something I didn't like at all."

"It looks like you were the only one," Ben says as he finds the very invocation he seeks, "but you're too late now. It's time to unlock the power of Sarah Ravencroft!"

"Well, I don't like the sound of this," Shaggy moans, and Velma takes a step back toward Ben.

"Together, we shall reign supreme!" Ben declares before beginning the invocation. "Let the evil from the past breathe again with fiery blast!"

With just the single line spoken, lightning bursts forth from the book, and a dreadful wind begins to spiral all around him. The earth trembles beneath his feet, then splits as leaves are stripped from their branches.

Velma's eyes dart sharply upwards, at the trees beginning to bend and sway to the mere sound of his voice. She attempts to take another step toward him, but the sudden gale proves to be too strong for her to do anything except stay in place.

"Let the dark wind whip the night to blow away the force of light!" he continues, and the maelstrom grows stronger.

A nearby tree is ripped straight from its roots, and Shaggy turns right around to face it as it collapses and sinks toward him. He holds a hand up and over his face, then crouches low just as it crashes on top of him, obscuring him under thousands of dancing leaves and snapping branches.

The earth continues to rattle as Ben continues to recite.

"Now I summon ancient power!"

The earth continues to split in his wake, cracks in the dirt widening enough to swallow several stumps. The remaining three members of the extraction team he can see lower themselves to the ground, and Daphne and Fred reach out to hold each other in a desperate embrace.

Velma cries out in alarm as they're all swept back by the gusts beating at them, and Daphne and Fred shout as they're swallowed whole by the churning earth.

"This is evil's finest hour!" Ben finishes, and laughs maniacally as an eerie green light spirals upwards from the book and strikes him like a bolt of lightning, endowing him with strength and vitality he never dreamed possible.

His glasses feel wrong on his face.

The wind dies down slightly, but the earth continues to quake under Velma's feet as she rises and attempts to approach him again.

"NO!" she cries out, then tries to steady herself.

Ben laughs at her again as he takes his glasses off, then drops them to allow them to be swept away. He won't need them anymore.

"What's the matter, Velma?" he simpers. "Don't you like the new, improved Ben Ravencroft?"

"No, frankly I don't!" she snarls, and the earth begins to heave again.

Oranges and reds swirl around him violently, and bark begins to peel off of the trees to join the debris dance.

Ben just laughs again.

"Aww, try not to take it so personally. If it's any consolation, you were good. You and your friends were very, very good."

Then Velma straightens, standing tall even while being pelted by everything the maelstrom can lift and throw at her.

He can hardly see her anymore under all of the debris between them, but the small glimpse he catches of her is a smirk, and it's that moment that he realizes something is very wrong.

Then he sees her eyes, locked on his with that same wicked look in them as the one he had ignored before.

Why is she this calm?

What does she know that he doesn't?

"We were," she asks above the distinctly musical howling of the wind, "weren't we?"

Then a log, torn right off its parent tree, barrels into her from the side and sweeps her off her feet.

And the world continues to tear itself apart.

~☆°~•~°☆~

He wakes up in London, to the train lurching as it begins to move again.

He inhales sharply, his startled alertness snapping the traces of his dream from his immediate memory. He turns his head toward the window, watching the station and departing passengers slowly slide out of view.

He doesn't remember dozing off, but when does anyone ever? So he relaxes, resettles into his seat, and adjusts his arms on the armrest.

A lingering pinching sensation shoots sharply through him as his jacket sleeve catches on his arm, and he jumps slightly in his seat.

He remembers the sensation of having something in his wrist, and the memory comes back to him with absolute clarity.

How could he forget?!

That extraction team! They had probably been right there on the train with him, and they've just gotten off scot-free with..!

He pales.

They had been looking for the truth, and evidence about who Sarah Ravencroft had been. Velma had told him herself.

And now he's not only handed the family secret to them on a silver platter, but he's made them privy to his own wicked desires as well!

Now they know exactly what he wants to find in Oakhaven, and they also know where to find it! He led them right to it, because he had been too eager to consider multiple dreams!

And they've done it while he's in London, thousands of miles away from Massachusetts!

“Oh, those meddling sons-of..!” he curses, leaping from his seat. A scrap of folded paper, which he was unaware of having been pinned between his hand and armrest, flutters out of hiding and floats to the ground.

It's so bizarre to him, he forgets to be angry for a second as he scoops the paper off the floor.

What is it, a note? Is it for him?

He unfolds the note– it's been hastily scrawled on in the distinctly messy handwriting and scathing words of an intellect: Two sentences, mocking what he's said and insulting him while disguising as a compliment. Then a pair of initials.

It is for him.

His blood begins to boil.

It's a taunt. From her.

It strikes him right then, the whole time she had been playing him like a damned fiddle while he had thought he was playing her.

Every single sideways glance she had given him, every lie she had spoken with a bright smile on her face, she had known he was going to lead her right to his secrets.

She had never been wrapped around his finger, but he had been coiled around hers.

She had baited him with ease, hook, line, and sinker.

He feels so foolish. While he had thought himself wise for keeping his attention on her, she's played the exact game he did, and she seems so certain that she's won, the bastard! Well, while she and her friends may have extracted that information, they still have to be in London. They're just as far from the spellbook as he is, aren't they?

They may have a little five-minute head start on him, but he has wealth. He has connections. Well, maybe not connections that will just retrieve the spellbook for him without asking questions, but connections that can get him back to Oakhaven, the real Oakhaven, quickly.

The clock is still ticking.

He's going to catch them, if it's the last damn thing he does! He can't lose this, now that he's so close!

He can't..!

~☆°~•~°☆~

When all is said and done, he makes it back to Massachusetts in a record two days.

Jetlagged, worn out, and weary, he drives straight from the airport to the Stumps without stopping.

He follows the very path that he had recreated for himself in the dream, and stumbles upon the clearing he seeks. His sleepless fervency has left him mostly unable to feel anything, but his heart begins to quicken with excitement as he begins his search.

It takes a few moments for him to happen upon the most impressive former oak tree, and he eagerly approaches it...

Then his heart falls into his stomach.

Nestled between two roots, there's an empty hole with a distinctly rectangular divot in the ground.

He knows exactly what was there.

Anything that may have been buried in the past is long gone, and his secrets have been stolen with it.

It's over.

He's lost.

~☆°~•~°☆~

Things could be much worse, he reminds himself every so often over the next few months.

While he's lost Sarah's spellbook and the secrecy of his family's legacy, things really could have gone so much worse for him.

Because having his secret and the supporting, formerly-sealed record of Sarah Ravencroft's actions spilled to practically the entire world has had an impact he frankly should have suspected, but is still shocked by.

Stories about Sarah Ravencroft, the Scourge of Oakhaven, have circulated so wildly that his books are now legendary. His lineage makes his books pure gold within the horror community.

Her infamy has increased not only his fame, but his wealth as well.

He should be angry. But instead, he vindictively hopes the buyer who hired that extraction team is happy. He isn't unhappy, after all.

Because in spite of his loss of what could have been, things have only improved for him and his life.

Because now he has extra money to throw around.

Maybe he'll never be able to find the spellbook, but he can seek out the woman who caused him to lose it in the first place.

He doesn't care for any of her friends, not particularly. They didn't pick at his brain the way she did. The way she toyed with him in his own mind has added a whole new dimension of curiosity and desire to really understand her.

She's wormed her way right into his mind, where she refuses to leave.

So more than anything, he wants a way to return the favor.

In a way, she can be his new spellbook. His new quest. His new fascination. And this time, finding what he's looking for can be made into a game. Into a puzzle. One in which he'll inevitably come out as the victor of.

Yes, he thinks, this is what he wants.

He wants finding Velma Dinkley to be a game.

He wants it to be a long, convoluted, and frustrating game. He wants his efforts to be met with next to no payoff, just so that the day they meet again will be that much more rewarding.

Fortunately, it seems things will play out in his favor for once.

Because he has a clue as to her existence, a fact he can cling to until he can shove it right back in her face.

It's the only clue. It's the only evidence of her having ever been inside his head. All he has of her is that taunting scrap of paper she had left in his hand before beginning the chase.

And he's going to use it to find her.

Try not to take it so personally, the scrap reads. If it's any consolation, you were always my favorite. ♡- V.D.

[sytokun]

If I may ask, I a bit curious on the timeline of your Rwby rewrite project, you made videos on a Rwby rewrite before but with a different name(s because I can’t remember if it had more than one name) What changed with the name? In fact what change about production after the details video about a Rwby rewrite(hopefully you know what I talking about) It ok if it just speak in general terms than any details, just interest in your process!

This is a good opportunity to talk about my history with RWBY AUs from start to finish, so thanks for this ask.

I first got infected with the AU bug during Volume 3, when shit started going down in Episode 6 and my mind was abuzz thinking about how the story was going to unfold. This led me to create Shattered Tomorrow, which was about the predicted events and aftermath of the Fall of Beacon.

This later moved to RWBY: Visions, which was just a catch-all term that my other AUs would be grouped into at the time (much like how Star Wars: Visions is a collection of AUs, oddly enough). I made a few videos of it, as well as a subreddit which is now dead since I transitioned my community to YouTube instead, where this sort of AU/rewrite content reaches more people.

However, I soon released a video that more or less kickstarted my RWBYTubing days in earnest: RWBY Needs A New Beginning. The large positive reception I got for it led me to create a Discord server to discuss the project, at which point it grew into a community group project, and was renamed into RWBY: Cherish.

However, it was my first time leading a community project, so it encountered numerous fatal hurdles - namely the "too many cooks" problem. Everyone was pitching idea, writing docs and proposing characters to populate the world, but none of it was translating into real, tangible results. It lost steam about a year in and I grew disillusioned, especially after the conclusion of Volume 6. I was very close to dropping the show and leaving the fandom entirely.

I decided to step away and took a month-long break from the project and anything RWBY. It took me a while for me to recentre myself and start looking at my ideas again without premature outside influence. What did I really want from this project? Why do I keep returning to it?

I started sketching again, reclaiming pride in my own ideas again. Then, I discovered Cold Kingdom's album, which sparked my first real concepts for what would become RWBY: Remnants. But at the time, I created these under the placeholder title: We Are The Hunt.

I started gaining confidence in my creative self again, and I regained motivation to start over; more importantly, I got back my love for RWBY, and it was here I realised that I'll never be truly able to leave it behind until I put out my version of it for the world. I put everything I knew about this new AU into a few illustrations, used a song I liked that conveyed the tone I pictured, edited them together, and finally released the first trailer for RWBY: Remnants.

For the first time, I had put out the ideas in my head into something tangible, something real. Something I could watch and share with others. It wasn't just a video of abstract promises, of me talking about how cool it would be in concept. Why spend all that effort describing something with the same effort I could use to make it a reality?

I realised that while others enjoyed my ideas and were passionate enough to help with it, I was the only person who could be responsible for it, and only I knew what I wanted it to be. With all those lessons in mind, I went ahead and launched RWBY: Remnants.

It's been a journey of over 6 years now, and it's still going. People who dismiss my AU work so far as a string of failed projects fail to realise that creation is an ever-changing thing. It changes its nature along with the person making it. Someone who makes something that's the same from start to finish has not learned anything about it or themselves from the process - they're making something stagnant, and a stagnant work reflects its creator.

I can't say that I'll stick with my RWBY AU forever, especially given RWBY's uncertain future, or even that I'll be able to finish all I wanted to accomplish. But as long as I'm still doing it, I've not regretted a single second.

This may be a project based on RWBY, but it's RWBY told through my own eyes. I count myself very lucky that a lot of people want to see me make it a reality, so I hope by telling it, I can inspire other people that they can do the same. You don't have to be a giant company or a team of hundred.

In my case, I just needed a small group I could trust to help me make it happen, and a lot of time. I'm grateful for that.

The one thing I learned the most in this experience is one word: Resolve. It's not a glorious, inspirational thing: I'm not pushing myself over a mountaintop or running a heartstopping marathon: but somehow, in spite of myself, I just draw a little every week.

I tell myself I shouldn't give up - not because of right or wrong - but because I know this is something that I will always return to. Something that will always welcome me back. Something about RWBY and this project constantly draws me back into it, like an unanswered question. It's an unusual drive I don't expect others to have, but whatever it is, something like that may exist for you in another form. I don't know if you wanna call it a life calling or whatever, but it's just... the thing you keep coming back to. It's like your inclination; your nature.

If I'm a pencil, it's in my nature to draw or write, even if I only take myself out of the drawer every month or so to do it. It doesn't change my character or my morals. I just do the thing, and the thing feels right to do.

6 years on, that's what working on this project feels to me at this point. Part of me wants to prove something to myself, and to share something with the world. But I think with enough consideration, I can probably live without those things. But even without them... I'm still going to do the thing. Because it feels right to do the thing. I like doing RWBY things, and I don't see a reason to stop anytime soon.

[galaxysodapopdraws]

So here’s something I don’t normally do, write fanfiction! If y’all do enjoy it and want to read more from me I might make some more later.

I wrote this currently (aka 1 am) because I had the idea for a while and just said screw it I’ll write it instead of drawing it while I’m working on other things. So if punctuation or spelling is wrong I’m too tired to rewrite them right now.

This story stars a young Eggman (Julian) and Chuck making their breakthrough on the Robotizer! But Chuck seems to be uneasy about something going on with Julian.

Now without further ado~

Sonic Genesis: The Beginning of the End

It is a cool autumn night, fog covers a small town just outside a grand city settling on the coastline. Bells ring out, letting the sleeping citizens know that it is now midnight. A light teal-blue hedgehog is at his desk scribbling away at blueprints and other documents. He rubs his temple, annoyed by the loud clangs of the bells giving him a headache. He knows he should be asleep by now, but he is so close to finishing his projects and rather not lose his motivation. He goes back to his papers and refocuses on the numbers and ideas in his head.

*BRRRRRRRRINNNNG*

“GREAT GAIA WHAT NOW?!”

The hedgehog shouts as he slams his pencil down onto the crowded desk. His phone finally broke his concentration and makes his anger rise. He snaps out of his frustration when a loud thump came from the next room over.

“SHUT UP CHUCK! IM TRYING TO SLEEP AND YOU SHOULD TO!”

His little sister, Aleena screamed, ready to bust down the wall to stop him. Chuck mumbles under his breath as he goes to check his phone. To his surprise and delight, it is his good friend Julian!

“Julian! Is that you? It’s been forever since we’ve talked! You need to warn me next time you disappear like that.”

“Chuck, I need you at the laboratory as soon as possible. It is important and you cannot tell anyone where you are going.”

Chuck paused for a moment, Julian has been gone for almost four months. Why on Mobius would he contact him now, especially at this time of night?

“Is everything okay? Why do you need me over there?” Chuck asked worryingly.

“It’s about the Robotizer, I’ve made a breakthrough! I just need you to come over and help me work on it while I rest. My eyes are stinging like hell right now.”

Before Chuck could ask if he needed medical aid, Julian had already hung up the phone. Chuck stood there for a moment in silence, his mind racing. They have been working on the Robotizer for almost five years now, has he finally done it? Has Julian successfully managed to get it working? While these thoughts were buzzing around in his mind, Chuck was scrambling around grabbing papers and tools as fast as he could. He burst through into the garage and hopped onto his motorcycle, driving into the darkness.

When Chuck arrived at Julian’s personal laboratory, he could immediately tell something was wrong. The foliage around the building were over grown, the windows were covered in what seems to be tarp from the inside. Julian has been known to go for long periods of time working and creating inventions, but never to the point of neglecting himself and things around him. Chuck tried opening the front door to learn that Julian had changed the lock. Suddenly, a chain crashed down onto the concrete driveway inches away from Chuck causing him to fall over.

“Chuck, this is our secret. Climb up before anyone sees you”

whispered Julian, coming from the second floor. Before ascending the chain Chuck paused for a moment. Something didn’t feel right at all, what would be waiting for him up above? Is Julian in a right state of mind from being isolated for a while? Chuck shook his head, trying to calm his nerves. He’s known Julian for almost ten years now, and if Julian isn’t in a good position, he needs to be there for his friend. Chuck put the file of paperwork between his teeth and began to climb the chain. Reaching the window, Chuck could see that even the rooms inside the building were being neglected. Papers and trash thrown about, equations and notes scribbled all over the chalk board, only a few small lights were illuminating the room. In the dim glow of the lights, Chuck could make out the silhouette of Julian.

“Julian….what happened here? Are you alright?”

Chuck gently spoke as the struggled to climb through the window. Julian stood up and walked over to the hedgehog gripping at the windowsill and picked him up as if he was lighter than air. He set him down and crouched to get to eye level with Chuck. The first thing Chuck noticed was the hair on Julian’s head was carelessly shaved off, with a few bloody stitches replacing what was there before. Julian looked like he hadn’t seen the sun in forever, his eyes were covered by a small pair of dark goggles that seemed to be warning Chuck not to do anything stupid.

“We did it, we finally did it.”

Julian sighed. He stood up and walked slowly to his work table as if he were in a daze.

“Listen, it’s wonderful that you got the Robotizer working, but we need to get you to the hospital. The scars on your head aren’t looking to good and-“

Chuck was interrupted by Julian’s joyful yet menacing laugh. He turned back towards Chuck, a tooth baring grin stretched across his face.

“Chuck, we are doctors, I’m positive I know what I’m doing when it comes to stitches and such.”

“But we’re not those kind of doctors! How’d you get them anyways? What happened here?”

Julian reached behind him and picked up a small device off from the table. The Beta Robotizer, a small machine that can turn any flesh and blood into metal and data. It is small enough to fit your hand or even a small creature such as a mouse. Julian beckoned Chuck to come closer as he once again crouched to make sure he speaks to him face to face. Cautiously, Chuck walked over to Julian and pulled up a stool, waiting for Julian to explain himself.

“I apologize for not contacting you for so long. I just didn’t want to risk anyone else figuring out what we’re doing. But I believe I made enough security measures for us to finally get back to work.”

“I see…. Now about the stitches.”

“Ah yes, don’t worry about them. While testing the Robotizer I fell and busted my head open on the counter. But it was worth it in the long run, the Robotizer is a success and we need to begin working on a bigger one.”

Chuck smiled softly, knowing that his friend seemed to be okay. Exhausted and a bit delirious, but okay. However, a question came across Chuck’s mind that filled him with dread. As much as he knew he’d probably hate the answer, he just had to ask:

“Julian, you said you were testing the Robotizer, and even said it worked. But…. But what did you test it on exactly?”

Julian’s grin began to creep up on his face again, softly chuckling to himself as the reached up towards the back of his head to unclip the goggles that were covering his eyes. Chuck jumped back and fell off the stool in pure fear and shock after as Julian’s chuckle turned into a hardy laugh.

“YOUR EYES?!? ARE YOU INSANE?! This is a prototype! If something went wrong you could’ve went blind or worse!” Chuck yelled in frustration.

Julian’s eyes, now just black cameras with red lenses replacing his pupils and sclera followed Chuck’s movements, creating a whirring sound at every gaze. Bright red nerves had appeared around the sockets, as well as bruising that was slowly swelling and leaking a strange oil-like liquid.

“My vision has never been more clear, I haven’t even been using much light because I can now clearly see in the dark! They save me time and energy when working. Chuck, imagine what we could do with this, if we built a bigger one to fully robotize someone, we can change the world as we know it!”

Julian stood up and began to shuffle through the papers Chuck had brought. Chuck just sat in silence, not knowing what to say about the matter. He was very happy that their project had worked, but seeing Julian’s eyes and how they function, it filled him with a sense of unease.

“I’m glad that you were still working on the project while I was gone. All this new info and changes can help us a lot in the process.” Julian said as he put them back into the file.

He turned to Chuck and noticed that he looked like he was looking unwell, almost as if he was going to be sick. Julian sighed and placed a hand on Chuck’s head, petting him while making sure not to prick his fingers on his quills.

“Look, when we finally complete the main Robotizer, we will look back knowing that it was worth it. Tell you what, instead of working on it like I asked you tonight, go ahead and go home to rest. Come back this weekend and we can get started.”

Chuck glanced up at him, Julian was giving him a gentle smile, but his metal eyes glared back with no emotion or concern.

“Yeah…. It’s late anyways and I have work tomorrow.”

Chuck says as he begins reach for his papers, only to be interrupted by Julian slamming his hand on the files.

“Don’t worry about all that stuff right now.” Julian said guiding Chuck to the window.

“Right now you need to rest and get your mind at ease so we can get back to work. You have a good night, I’ll call you later tomorrow to check on you.”

Chuck lowered himself gently to the ground, barely breaking the silence of the woods around him. He sat there for a moment, wondering why Julian would do such a thing to himself. And why a bigger Robotizer? The plan was to make small ones to help in medical procedures. There was no real need to rush things right now. Chuck sighed, hopefully this will pass over him and it will all be worth it in the end. As he hoped on to his motorcycle and drove down the path, he peered over his shoulder towards the window in the laboratory. Where he could see the red eyes of his friend shining through the glass.

[lovelywingsart]

//AU// Danger On High

-- Karl Heisenberg X OC (AFAB, She/They) --

And... Here we go! The start of a small 'series' of stories that take place during the night of February 8th, 2021-

This are the events of Resident Evil Village as told by the perspective of the factory residents, taking place shortly after Winters entered the factory itself. (Mostly because I genuinely do not have the energy or motivation to write out the rest of the fuckin game beforehand SLJSADKSFD- MAYBE One time I'll at least write out the conversations he has with the other Lords or just rewrite damn near the entire beginning and all, but now is not that time)

(It is a small story, and it's not the greatest since I didn't have clear image for this one, but it is a story nonetheless...! I'm also not sure exactly how many stories this will consist of, and I DO plan on making a full sketch comic for the big fight, but we'll see!)

**Remember, check out the Masterlist for more! <3**

-----

*Warnings?: Child/Family endangerment, really REALLY bad decision making beforehand

Summary: The day they thought would come has finally arrived, but not without severe difficulty... And it's all partly the fault of a desperate father- and not the one you expect.

Monitors illuminated the room as Heisenberg paced, swearing to himself as he glanced at them every now and then. Things were being destroyed left and right... Most things were running, but others were collapsing at the man made his way through.

How? How could he have fucked this up so badly?? No... No, it couldn't have been his fault entirely... Right??? No, the man was stubborn and he lost his temper because of it. He wasn't listening. That's all it was... But they still had a chance, right? Winters let the other Lords live despite everything, he'd let them live too, right??? Granted, they were beaten bloody beforehand... He wasn't entirely opposed to fighting, but he would if he had to-

He was ripped away from his pacing thoughts with a jump as the door suddenly flew open, only to fully freeze as Emelia raced to the monitors path in a panicked scramble. She rapidly switched the images on the screen with the dial after nearly tripping over the chair in front of the table, yanking it to the side out of the way with her eye searching the fuzzed pixels frantically.

"Emelia, what the hell are you-"

"Where the bloody FUCK is he?!" she said, her voice warping near immediately with as loud as she was. He couldn't help but jump at the tone, though immediately joined her at the monitor.

"What the fuck do you mean 'where is he'?? He went down-"

"Not him, you Twit!!" She snarled, "OUR SON!!!!"

He took a step back with wide eyes as she suddenly turned to him, her teeth bared and already forming into the longer fangs. But despite her obvious anger, his heart sank as he saw something else. Something very clear to him that instantly made him panic as well once it settled fully in his mind-

Fear.

No... No. Oh no. Oh NO. He hadn't thought of that... He hadn't thought of ANY of that- Why didn't he-

Fuck-

She gave a startled snarl as he suddenly nearly shoved her to side, his chest tightening as he flipped through the images as well.

There were a few moments of somewhat tense silence before Emelia suddenly pointed to the screen.

"THERE!!" she said quickly, and Heisenberg froze with his hand over the dial. There, through the static, they saw a small form curled in a somewhat dark corner.

From the size and movement, it was most definitely their son...

And he seemed scared.

The boys hands covered his ears as he visibly trembled with the noises around him, and Emelia let out a quiet whimper.

"Adalwulf-" she started, only for both to freeze as there was a few loud *POP*s from the monitors speakers before a tiny, distant explosion. A Soldat, no doubt. It nearly sounded like cracks through the sound, and they watched as he visibly jumped and looked around the corner with wide, teary eyes- only to instantly stand and bolt the other way. The movement caused an odd static through the monitor, mildly distorting both the audio and the visual.

Neither parent even breathed, watching as another figure followed, though visibly and audibly confused as he seemed to try and talk through breathless gasps in the now muffled audio- all while still holding his gun.

Winters was going for their son.

Heisenberg looked over, his own horrified feeling being reflected on Emelias face as he saw her muscles begin to tremble. It was less than a second before she turned heel and nearly sprinted to the door, tripping over her feet.

"EMMY-" he started, moving forward until she stopped and nearly glared at him. It wasn't anger... Not entirely, at least. There was definitely quite a bit of anger in her stare that he knew was directed at him, but that wasn't the primary emotion he saw. Instead it was something else;

Fear.

She was afraid.

Her terror of the situation at hand was clear from the look in her eye, the bright gold nearly glowing from the dim light of the monitor. It made his breath catch in his throat with a wave of guilt, and he couldn't help but freeze in place.

"Get him." She demanded flatly, her voice wavering with the mixture of the Cadou and attempts to not hyperventilate. "Get Adalwulf. I'll take care of Winters."

"I-"

"PLEASE, Karl...!!!" she pleaded finally, hitting her fist on the door in scared and desperate frustration as he finally walked to her. "Please..."

He was silent for a few moments before suddenly grabbing her shoulder and pulling her to his chest, wrapping his arms around her in a near bone crushing hug. Her body went rigid, though she couldn't help but return it with yet another whimper. She gripped the back of his jacket tightly and she shoved her face into his neck with trembling breaths and shoulders as he did the same.

"Promise me you'll be careful." he nearly whispered, his own voice strained. "... Please..."

She didn't move for a few moments, though only nodded as he managed to pull away. But he didn't shift much, only moving enough to press his forehead to hers as he reached up to hold her jaw. She took a shaky breath in desperate attempts not to sob.

"I have to be..." she replied, finally allowing the stinging in her eye to form into tears. He nodded in reply, quickly leaning over to press a kiss to her cheek before moving to lead her out as he felt her arm tremble to finally shift. He took a tense breath, lifting his chin in a small false confidence he knew full well she didn't believe.

"Let's go."

[pierrotwrites-hc]

I’ve seen you allude to how different the original AO3 version of TGB was, but I never got a chance to read it - if you have the time, I’d love to know more about the things that changed the most during the rewrite into its present incarnation and if anything stayed the same!

Thank you for this question!

I may have talked about this before, but I think Luca changed the most drastically between versions. On rereading, I was frustrated by the one-dimensionality of his character. He was someone to whom bad things had happened, but he lacked the interiority and distinct, unique voice necessary to communicate how profoundly his circumstances had shaped him (or to demonstrate his subconscious strategies of resistance).

Giving Master Trainer an audible voice in Luca's head was a game changer. He is the visceral embodiment of Luca's trauma, a fragment from the past lodged in his brain -- and he is also Luca himself. Master Trainer isn't a ghost or some kind of split personality; this is Luca talking to Luca. He is constantly undermining his own humanity in the voice of his persecutor.

Turning Master Trainer into a sort of chronic mental virus gave me an opportunity to structure Luca's arc in Part II around building the resilience and resistance he needs to inoculate himself against that voice and everything it represents. In this rewrite, it was really important to me that Luca develop a sense of personhood outside of his relationship with Robert. Luca might see Robert as his savior, but I wanted Robert to be the motivation Luca needed to save himself. Having Luca begin to push back against his programming is a big part of his larger arc/relationship with Robert.

Along with the characters, the worldbuilding also (I think) became a lot more multidimensional and (I hope) effective. While Solas has always been a mashup of Ancient Rome, Golden Age France, and Victorian London (you know: three rotten old empires at peak decadence), I did a lot of work on the culture and politics, as well as the broader historical/global context in which all these events are taking place. I have read way too much speculative and historical fiction in which One Brave Man Saves the Kingdom, and I wanted to show that wartime politics are really complicated and that success and failure are often contingent on sheer chance rather than the actions of any single individual. There's a lot going on outside of Solas, and a lot going on inside of Solas that has nothing to do with Robert and Luca, and while both of them get to do a lot of cool stuff with a measurable impact on the course of events, they are also small actors on a stage so big they can't even see the edges of it. That's been really exciting to write, and hopefully to read.

[twilightguardian]

I know I shouldn't expect anything to come from this, but Lilith posted something that actually excites me. Because it's something you can actually chew on and discuss.

(Why bring up Critter here? Is she just a posterchild for you? I hope you don't think I'm Critter because lol)

Lilith proving she doesn't understand what critique is for or how to implement it. I mean, we kind of all knew it, but it's nice of her to actually say it herself. Because she thinks critique is nothing but spewing obscenities for the purposes of bullying, and not, genuinely looking into what you perceive as an issue with something and explaining why it's a problem to you for others to agree with or disagree with.

No one has 'pride' in being a critic, and that's a stupid concept to begin with and shows just how off the mark she is. How far away she is from understanding anything.

The problem I have with you, is that you do not critique Fixing honestly. There have been people who have legitimately critiqued Raymond's work and there was discussion to be had there.

One person talked about how he thought Nora's arc, feeling guilty over being so jealous of Pyrrha and never reconciling their differences before her death was poorly done. That's fine as a criticism.

Another person more recently (due to me responding to you) looked at the show and thought that it was hypocritical of Raymond to say he didn't want to 'cop-out' on things like Pyrrha's death and yet brought Roman back. That's also fine as a criticism.

A lot of people (including me) criticized Raymond for replacing Oscar with Roman, as much as people liked the idea of Roman, because they wanted to see what Raymond would have done with Oscar. That's also valid criticism. I think Roman replacing Oscar is ultimately fine, but it's still disappointing due to the anticipation and expectation. (Hell, Raymond is on record as saying he hates Oscar and yet I've given him an Oscar in a (heavily Alt Uni/template for OW) rewrite scenario that Raymond absolutely loves. Because if canon isn't going to deliver, and the one rewrite I actively follow isn't going to deliver, I must do it myself.)

You on the other hand say that the show is shit because Raymond hates women. That he's queerphobic and an alt-righter. That's not valid criticism, that's attacking Raymond's character. You purposefully lie about the contents of the project to paint Raymond in a bad light. Everything you say about it is all meant to say how Raymond and the SH are bad people. Do you not understand the differences?

Even when people criticize M&K they're (mostly) not attacking them as people. And those that do, I disagree with them. But I don't care about engaging with RWBY outside of Fixing, so I've never commented. Even then, the majority of that talks about their behaviour in relation to how their views and beliefs and behaviours may inform their writing of the show. They talk about them as professional writers being paid by a company to write for a show. Once your work is out there, it's fair game for criticism and it's not evil of people to have problems with your writing ability and criticize it. No, not even wrong to criticize Raymond. But how you criticize is the key difference, and that is where you fail.

Libeling someone about their character and motivations because you don't like their fan project is why I started responding to you. Because that is abhorrent behaviour toward another fan of the show.

Rewriters don't have to come up with original plots. Depending on what the rewriter wants to do, it can be vastly different or similar to canon. With Fixing RWBY, Raymond liked enough of the canon show to see that it could be good. But there were a number of glaring issues that dragged the story down. Pointing those out and coming up with scenarios where those are rectified doesn't make one less creative. One criticism that a lot of people had was character bloat.

That comes in two parts:

The amount of characters that appear on screen who now have to have screen time devoted to them.

The lack of anything of substance to justify the characters' existence or make them feel like characters.

Why are these things a problem for people? Because if you aren't going to do much with the characters at all, then you're taking away screen time from the people who should be important: Team RWBY. This is why people criticize Jaune. As much as people like to claim he's meant to be a subversion of the typical shounen hero, he certainly gets a lot of big character beats played straight. Character traits and beats people think should have gone to someone from Team RWBY, or at the very least should have come after Team RWBY got their share. Because they're the title characters, yet people do not believe the show pays enough attention to them.

Now, do I believe you might possibly have valid criticism? If I'm generous, yes. You claim that he gives all of these character moments to various male characters. I disagree and I point out my reasoning as to why. So why do you believe he doesn't focus as much on the female characters? What constitutes the female characters having enough screen time for you to no longer be unhappy with Fixing?

As it stands, with how you go about your criticism, I can only conclude that you just dislike the inclusion of men at all in Fixing. Which, I'm sorry, but that's ridiculous. RWBY is a female-led story, yes, but it's not a female-only story. It's not in canon, and it's not in Fixing. Male characters are going to have some presence in the story. The issue is how much, and more importantly, how much in comparison to the girls based on their arcs.

If, for instance, you say that maybe Blake talking out her issues should have been given to another female character. That's fine and valid as criticism. I could argue that all the female characters are a little too close to the issue and that wouldn't feel comfortable, especially since Blake still feels like an outsider in the group despite Ruby's attempts at mending that. Even Nora, and Neo is best friends with Yang, which might make such a conversation uncomfortable. So where does that leave Blake? You could force an interaction with a female NPC, but that is an unnecessary character added for one scene. No one is going to care about them. Or, you can add in Cardin and Russell, who are replacing one-off characters Dee and Dudley, as they are far removed from the group dynamics.

Now, Velvet could have fit this role perfectly, but that also comes with it's own set of issues. Namely, why would Velvet be following Team CRDL and not sticking with her own team? Sure, she and Cardin are friends, but they're not tied to the hip. But if it had to be a female character, I'd think Velvet would have been the perfect choice. But there'd be a lot of hoops to go through, and if replacing CRDL with CVFY, one member of Team CVFY would have to die.

That's... that's just fandom, man. Like I don't know what to tell you. This isn't unique to RWBY, it's just human nature. That's especially fandom that's been going through a dry spell of mainline content. Or do you mean Nitpick November, where the literal point was to talk about nitpicks because everyone accused critics of only talking about things that didn't matter?

What counts as worthwhile vs minor and inconsequential things, by the way? Who dictates what can or cannot be viewed as important? Immersion is not universal. Different things can take different people out of the story. Things that I miss, you might have stumbled with and vise versa. Something one person can overlook is something that bothers another person. Are you implying that there is a 'right' or 'wrong' when it comes to what people experience? And I'm talking about legitimate experiences here, not twisting something to fit a narrative. Since you mentioned Critter, I know for a fact that she ignored a lot of things that bothered her because she wanted to enjoy RWBY. She talked about it in her videos. And I sat there wondering why she'd tolerate so much, hand wave so many things that bothered her if it caused her a lot of grief. But that's what happens when you have passion for a show and it degrades in quality. As an outsider, I never got attached to the show to feel that frustration and desperation. But I've felt it with my own fandoms, so I can empathize.

Ironwood's actions are not minor in the story for V7&8. That deserves to be scrutinized, especially if people were unsatisfied with it. And people were also unsatisfied for different reasons. Sure, some people might have wanted him to be a good guy. Others did see where the writers were going with him but thought they stumbled and fell on their face just before the finish line. Others take issue with certain aspects and not the whole.

Characterization is more subtle and requires deeper dissection in order to properly define and justify. Ruby no longer focusing that much on weapons is a minor thing, sure, but people lament the flavour - the spice - it brought to RWBY, and it's little things like that which makes the meal. If enough spice is removed, you're left with blander food even though the larger meal is still intact.

Some do. Again, it depends on what the goal is. Specifically with Fixing, the goal was to try and preserve as much of canon as possible, but not being precious with it. It's disingenuous to look at other people's complaints and apply them specifically to one person in particular. He might not agree with those other people. 'Critics' aren't a hive mind and they can disagree with each other.

You haven't demonstrated anything of the sort. Would you have a problem if it was Oscar and not Roman getting all of these scenes? Then again, you've complained about Arslan getting any kind of development, even if it's just a few minutes sprinkled here and there, and she's not a male character. Velvet also got a lot more development in Fixing, even outside of Cardin, and the same with Neo. This is why I say you're disingenuous. You cherry-pick who you're going to focus on as getting development.

Team RWBY and Nora all have significant scenes for themselves and for their development.

Blake's entire arc in Menagerie was expanded and Sun kept his role as 'sidekick' to Blake. He didn't overshadow her at all.

Yang's arc had Neo to bounce off of and Neptune was a cameo. He only appeared briefly at the very end when Yang finally went to physiotherapy.

Weiss had an arc all to herself after leaving her home where she bounced off Vernal and Raven, two female characters. Shiloh was a background element, important enough only because he had a special relationship to Vernal.

Sienna gets more in the way of we see her actively working in the White Fang and with Adam where it's not just something spoken about in dialogue the moment she appears and a few minutes before she's killed off. We see her deteriorating relationship with Adam as their ideologies differ. We're shown, not told.

Ilia gets more in the way of showing her internal conflict with how the White Fang is moving and her dividing loyalties between her beliefs and where the movement is going before she meets up with Blake.

So... why are these things ignored if you have such a problem with Fixing not focusing on female characters? In order for your criticism to be valid, the criticism actually has to reflect reality. You don't get to ignore things that are inconvenient to your narrative.

The meat of the story they love to criticize ceases to be a problem as long as male characters lead the group.

Huh. I don't remember the scene in Fixing where Roman declared himself leader and suddenly everyone - RWBY, JNR+Q are now following his lead. I seem to recall that had it been up to Roman, he'd ditch everyone and search for a way to pick Ozpin out of his body, fuck everything else. If you're talking about the one scene where Ruby goes off with Roman to actively search for leads, that was him leading a single investigation of many with only a single person beside him. Hardly what I'd call 'leading the group'. Like I mentioned before, Ruby went along with him as his handler, because no one trusted him yet. They still don't.

Like the concept of Raymond saying "60% of RWBY is fine, but we gotta touch up the rest of it" is completely lost on Lilith here. In her mind it can only be that either all of it is perfect, or none of it is.

(percentage is a random example)

Ah, and here I thought the 'husband' line was purely an Eren talking point. Do you not understand the concept that people can have children outside of wedlock? When did they say that Shiloh was Raven's husband, in or out of Fixing? They said he was Lily's father, not Raven's husband. Those are two separate concepts. In fact, Raymond explicitly says that they are not married. Raven just has her pick of the men around camp to get frisky with because she can do that as chief. Also, he was not 'random' in canon, either. He belongs to Raven's tribe.

I've explained why this is bullshit. Lilith is a broken record. Pointing out you're a fucking moron isn't 'flipping our crap' it's pointing out you're full of shit and why. RWBY has flaws. All shows have flaws and you are legitimately delusional if you think there can exist anything in media that is perfect. And the very fact that you have to lie about Fixing proves that you have no ground to stand on. Because if you did, then you'd be able to engage with it honestly, like other people have. You want Raymond's Fixing to only be about men so you can hate on it because you hate anything that men are involved in. That's why you ignore any time women do anything in it other than when it suits your lies.

If you cared about women's representation, you'd focus on where he falls short on their focus, not spend all your time screaming about a joke character getting 3 minutes more screen time and a main villain for the volume being the goddamn main villain of the volume.

And because MatrixDragon loves commenting on Lilith's garbage

I'm sorry, what? 20-25 episodes per season is a "real world limitation" of what can be animated and put on screen? Girl, you don't know anything about what you're talking about and it's probably best if you kept your mouth shut because this is highly stupid.

That shit is standard and even on the low end of the spectrum when it comes to season-long episodes. RWBY takes an entire year to get through its volumes with less than half the episode count most other cartoons with year-long productions have. These episodes aren't overly long, either. They're shorter than standard episode length.

"Real world limitations" don't make me laugh. Episodes that don't have a lot of action and fight scenes are standard fare and easier to animate and allow the budget to go where it needs to, like the fight scenes.

We all know that Rooster Teeth has issues paying its animators, so if that's the 'real world limitations' you're talking about, that's not a limitation on the story or the animators needing time or whatever, that's the company being garbage. Other companies can pay their animators and direct them in a way that doesn't lead to crunch and doesn't have to lay off artists because they're not bad at management. They also don't make artists work on multiple different things at once. A show that doesn't have that many episodes being produced through the entire year has no excuses.

Rushing through shit because you need to have action in most of your episodes is stupid. Not properly setting anything up because you're afraid if you don't start the season off with a fight scene to entice your audience is pandering and condescending. But who knows, maybe you don't mind being treated like you're dumb as long as you get the dumb action schlock. It ultimately doesn't matter. But Raymond's Fixing is not worse because he took the time to set things up that isn't just random fighting and if you cannot comprehend that, then maybe you don't know anything about storytelling either. You certainly don't know anything about animation and don't pretend you do.

[willing-but-not-able]

So, Tears of the Kingdom didn't exactly hit the mark in the story department. I'm glad I'm not alone as I usually am in these cases.

So, after some consideration, I decided to try rewriting the story right after I finished it a whole 200 hours after

I already did this exact same thing with Pokemon Sword and Shield, but just plotted the whole thing out and never wrote any of it because I figured no one reads my shit lol so I'm just going to do the same here, plot out what I feel would have been better and probably never write it... Unless you guys really like it and give me some support/motivation, seriously a comment goes a long way.

Anyways, I'm also writing a origin story for Ganon since he's bae a really unique Ganon but he was watered down to an OOT clone, lame 😒

! Major Spoilers for Tears of the Kingdom !

You have been warned.

So, the beginning of the game isnt going to start inside Hyrule castle. Instead, this is roughly five years after BOTW and Zelda and Link are traveling around on yet another job Zelda is fixated on. She asks Link to join her in exploring Hyrule to find a suitable place for a school.

The Calamity just wasn't a thing in totk and that doesn't make any sense if it was an event that just happened. I wanted it to at least be mentioned and be a major thing affecting Hyrule even now, years later.

After a leisure stroll to some of the more major and centralized locations, Zelda settles on Hateno, but she also wants to find a good teacher. Someone who knows about Hyrule's history, is heavily involved in their present affairs, and will be in their future events 🤔💭😮

A Sheikah!

So, Zelda asks you to find someone from Karakiko village who would fit the bill. A short tutorial trip later and now everything is in order.

Zelda then gives Link a few other tasks:

Find a carpenter to build the school

Travel out to Lurelin Village to become more acquainted with the growing sea village

And to get some food for a mysterious request.

Link, of course, doesn't have to do the top two, but the last one is a main mission. After getting 10 apples, some honey and making a meal, Link returns to Zelda's home and she explains what the food was for.

Now that things are settling down, I think it's time we repair the castle. I didn't want to prioritize it in case anyone needed assistance, but things seem to be calm enough for us to start planning the castle's rebuilding. I even found the perfect companion to carry all our things!

Btw does anyone else remember a trailer where Link and Zelda had a Dondon with them? Like what tf happened to that? 😭

Anyways, this could also be a little romantic moment for Link and Zelda. I personally don't like Zelink in this game, but for those who do, something could be here, a little spark if you will.

The pair rests for the day and plan to head out right when the sun comes out. Link and Zelda make their way to the castle and try and assess the damage and what work would need to be done. In doing so, Zelda finds a strange hole that seems to connect somewhere. Her curiosity gets the better of her and she slips down to check it out, with no way out, Link joins her in an attempt to help them escape.

They travel down the stairs and find the grave of Hyrule's first King and wonder what the slab means by the castle acting as a seal.

Now here is where I would put the beginning of the game. Everything can happen like it does with no changes. This includes the Great Sky island as well.

So, once Link finds a way back to the surface, he sees that things are different than what he remembers. The strange stones falling from the sky are a sight for sure. He heads over to the nearest stable and the owner explains what's going on.

I know it's been a while, but this stuff should be fresh in all our minds. Well, I still don't see how I'm even used to it. The Upheaval--as those researchers call it--was some strange event that occured and lifted Hyrule Castle straight into the sky and made those islands appear as well. I don't know much more than that, but those researchers set up a temporary base camp near the castle, they're the ones who would know more than I do.

The Upheaval just seems to have been an event that no one cares about. They're like "lol yeah that happened, but you wanna hear about Pony Points!??!!"

Link, informed of what's going on, makes his way to find out more and travels to the base camp. There, everyone is still shook that he's alive and everything that happened. He meets up with Purah and she explains her and Robbie discovered some strange entries and features in the Sheikah slate. As a result, with how much it was heavily modified, they decided to rename it to the Sheikah Pad. Yes, I'm not a fan of the name Purah Pad.

This strange text seems to have just appeared here. I can't read it, but there's a man who can possibly decipher it. Too bad I've been busy trying to go and ask for his help.

Why not let me do it? <

Of course I thought of you, but both you and Zelda were missing. I was more concerned with keeping that on a need to know basis.

Zelda is missing? <

Yeah, you both just disappeared and since you were heading to the castle, we came here to see if you would return. Anyways, now that you're back, it would be a really big help if you could take this to Kakariko Village. There's a man named Tauro there who could probably figure out what any of this means.

Then, The Thunderhead Isles quest gets placed here like normal. The four corners of Hyrule aren't affected by anything yet, no Blizzard Rito village, infected Gorons, Mucked Zora's domain or Sand Shrouded Gerudo Desert. I'll explain why later.

Link is then introduced to Mineru, the sage of spirit, who introduces him to the Tears ('cause secret stones is a kind of dumb name with the game being called Tears of the Kingdom) and the power they hold when given to a sage. She then goes on to explain her history to Link and that they man they met was most likely Ganondorf, the Demon King.

In my time, me and five other sages attempted to defeat him... But he was too strong and easily lay waste to us. However, the sage of Light devised a plan and you are at the center of that plan. Together with the Master Sword and the Sages power, we should be able to finally defeat the Demon King!

Mineru gives Link the task of finding the other Sages, that she will be right by his side if he needs any guidance.

I'm changing when you get Mineru because the "true ending" of the game makes it like I'm supposed to care Mineru moves on. Like, I just met her and have little to no attachment. She's no Navi, Midna, Tatal, Spirit Zelda, Ezlo, Lineback, or King of Red Lions. They needed to give her more significance in the plot if they wanted me to care about her.

She does have something she needs him to do, but that can wait. She explains the different races of the Sages and tells him to find someone with great prowess within those races.

It's clear who Link needs to look for.

I wanna make a small note here. I honestly want to make the gameplay reliant in a certain order, for ex. doing Gorondia would be much easier if you already have Sidon, Gerudo Desert and The Lightening Temple would be easier with Tulin. Just so their near useless abilities could have more use. 'Cause we all know Tulin is useless unless you're in the air. I would have just liked it if the puzzles were more complicated and were harder without a certain sage there to make it 100x easier.

Link returns to Purah and details what he learned to her.

Well that couldn't have come at a worse time.

What do you mean? <

I mean, everywhere is experiencing mass events and it seemed to come straight out of nowhere. I don't know if you'll be able to get their help while these strange phenomenons are going on. Maybe if you help them first, we can go forward with this plan after.

So, in no particular order, Link sets out to help the four corners of Hyrule.

Now, I'm going to pause here and talk about the game progression for a moment. As much as I love the depths, it serves no purpose other than to hide Ganon away. Josha and her quests can all be sequence broken to hell considering I found every place she wanted me to go to years before she told me about them, and I even ignored the "Master Koga" quest and found Ganon entirely by accident (I'll never forget that btw, it was too funny). So, I wasn't sure what to do with it. I understand it's there so the story doesn't seem to pop out of nowhere; but with the way it is, it just seem poorly added to be sure the players can actually find Ganon if they didn't jump inside the Hyrule Castle Chasm like my crackhead ass did.

I really figured to have the depths give us more backstory on Ganon. My original original idea actually involved us playing three different stories (Link- the Main one, Zelda- the adjacent one, and Ganon- the opposite one) so if they're not gonna give us Ganon as something more than just the big bad villain guy, then this is the best I can think to add. The depths would serve as a way for you to learn more about the world Ganon lived in as there doesn't seem to be any Gerudo Statues so I could imagine Hyrule was like "ya'll hoes are evil. Gerudo who?" And that might have sent Ganon into a frenzy. Also, I'll add something at the bottom about Zelda's part. Back to the main story 👋

Link is successful in awakening the sages and getting them on board to defeat Ganon; but they're missing two. Mineru did say there were five including herself, but they only make up four.

This is what I needed your help with, Link. I'm a spirit and would serve you no good in this state. However, I was developing a body that I can control even in this form I'm in. Please, you have to find where the Construct Factory is and find my invention. This way, I can fight along side you all.

Note, I think Mineru's construct body is actual 🗑. I really only use it to break ore deposits and to reach crap that's too high. She's just too clunky and slow to be functional, so I thought of this instead. You would still collect each part (however you wanted too. Either one after each sage or all at once after all the sages) and these parts attach to Link. Her legs would allow Link to fall without damage (ik she can do that already, but you can't really fall with her. She just slides until a safe distance off the ground) and her arms would act as a power bracelet replacement allowing him to lift much heavier things he normally couldn't. What heavier things you ask, idk, maybe the devs should have the gimmick of the game actually apart of the gameplay instead of just in the open world.

Link descends in the depths and manages to find the place Mineru kept a secret from Ganon. Collecting the final sage.

They were still nowhere close to defeating him as the Light Sage was nowhere to be found and the Master Sword was still missing.

From high in the sky, a roar shook the earth forcing them look at the source. No matter how far away they were the sad feeling washed over Link as he stared into the sky seeing the strangely colored dragon.

A overwhelming feeling overcame him and before his very eyes he saw tears fall from the sky. Why was the dragon crying? Were those tears for the struggling Kingdom? There was only one way to find out.

For the Geoglyphs, I would just rewrite them entirely, half of them felt useless to get and like they didn't add anything I'm looking at you tea party. One of my main issues was Ganon saying Rauru was arrogant but like, we haven't seen that at all sooo... Anyways, if anyone wants to see how I would rewrite them, feel free to comment or reblog and write your own rewrites, I'd love to see them.

Link manages to find all the Geoglyphs and sees all the hardship Zelda had to face on her own. He gets one hint though and that's the lost woods.

That part would be the exact same, and lead to the Great Deku Tree telling you where the Master sword is.

In finding a way up to the light dragon, he discovers the Master sword and pulls it out. As Link does so, the dragon writhes in pain fighting against the feeling of the sword being removed. Though, soon, it calms and Link pulls out the sword releasing one final tear from the dragon.

You must protect them all!

Now, it's just to find where Ganon is. He's been hiding away this entire time, where was he?

You all talked about something called the Calamity?

Yes, I can't be sure, but it seems the man you all refer to is the same man born as our King years ago.

Strange that he has been reborn once already, but the form I know him is different than the one you all battled. If that's so, it's safe to assume he still resides in the place where he was sealed, only disturbed by the Calamity I would assume.

Mineru's assumptions seemed to be their only lead, so with everything together, Link travels into the Hyrule Castle Chasm and finds himself in the heart of the gloom.

At this point, the ending can play the exact same. Now, at least to me, the ending feels much more satisfying now that we're led into a path that allows us to feel strongly towards defeating Ganon cuz for me, totk didn't give a good enough reason--or a reason at all--for me to kill Ganon.

~Fin~

So, here's my final revisions to improve everything.

Rauru is a very strange character. He's the equivalent of a God and yet doesn't explain why he and his sister just drop to earth and take the throne. He's "arrogant" despite no scene of that ever being present and he does seem to be hiding something but the game cuts off before we can explore that. I think Rauru and Sonia shouldn't have been romantic lovers, but simply married for political gain. It makes their strangely forced romantic interactions make more sense (and come on political marriage was common in those times)

Raru should have been the "gray area" good guy. Ignoring Zelda when she tries to bring up legitimate concerns, dismissing Sonia when he feels there's nothing more to talk about and thinking his way is the best way to handle things. I don't mean for him to be a giant asshole, but he could simply not want to talk about things "until later" and later means it probably won't happen ever. That way Rauru could have the plot point that Ganon feels Rauru's laid-back mentality isn't how a king--or God--should act. So when push comes to shove, Ganon chose to shove. Exposing Rauru and his folly. This would make him less of an idiotic ruler who seems to have little to no urgency about an event he was told will happen.

Ganon had soooo much missed potential. Not only did we miss the chance to have him as an ally/anti-hero, but we missed the chance to get real backstory over how Ganon came to be how he is. I don't think the excuse of "he has evil in his heart" can work with a person who called someone arrogant. Ganon clearly has idealism and not knowing where it comes from kind of sucks. Also, he just was chilling in a hole when he could have come out and tried to kill me any time Misko distracted me with a bottle. Just sayin' 🤷

He just needed some characterization somewhere in the game and since the depths have the different tunics, maybe Ganon's history is preserved down there as well

As for Zelda, I have no idea why she just isn't being more assertive with mentioning that maybe, just maybe Calamity Ganon is related to the same man she says has evil in his heart. There's no need to "keep him close" because it's canon that he's evil, Zelda already knows Rauru. Listen to her start planning already 👏👏

Alongside this, her "sacrifice" held no impact because I 1. Already found out she was the light dragon way before I even did the Geoglyphs, and 2. Stopped caring when I found out ItS iRrEveRsIbLe. I guess Sonia and Rauru missed that one. Zelda just needed to keep the matured tone she had from the end of BOTW

To end things, let me say this rewrite is not saying the game is horrible. Totk is actually a favorite of mine, but it's my favorite because of what I can obviously see is there, but isn't reaching for one reason or another. This game's story is trying its hardest to be something, but it can't quite become what it wants to be.

I hope this game can find its Light Dragon someday.

If you read all of this, thanks. If I managed to five you something to do for a few minutes, I'm happy you got even that out of it ☺

Again, thanks for reading and Hyrule is awaiting you

[beachback]

Hi there buddy, my name is Athena. I'm coming to say hi, see how you're doing and this is a chance to ramble about your wips. What's the biggest wordcount you've ever achieved on a wip?

Sorry I haven't gotten around to this yet I've been a bit busy D:

I've made quite a bit of stories, but the ones that I qualify as wips were the ones I got more serious about. So I have a bunch of untitled documents with one to ten pages of beginning a story, only to never work on it again xD

So then as for that, I've only had about five serious wips --- four after quarantine hit and I decided to try being a writer, and one before when I was simply dilly dallying in the art. xD

My first wip in quarantine (titled "Paodd Scrunch", a keyboard smash name plus the version where I stopped adding spaces after every paragraph) was me trying to seriously write, but looking back I know how many mistakes I made, not just within the project but how I set the project up. It was a story 100 years after an apocalyptic virus, containing zombies, shape shifters, and made-up human-like creatures that were bodies of whizzing mass/energy.

I wrote almost every night with really mostly just emotions to guide me. This meant that the plot? Nowhere to be found. It was all character relations and conflicts charged with emotions and toxic, but also confusing behaviors, since I would forget what the character's theme, internal conflicts, and desires were supposed to be like 😭.

But I did have a lot of fun watching book tube, book reviews, writing tips, and writing commentary videos. I really had a blast in quarantine having so much time to learn. In the end I wrote two books of it, although in the second one I only summarized the last 150 pages of. But all together it hit about 121k words in nine months (I titled the final document "The Big Boy: Large Paodd Scrunch") So that's my biggest word count! :0

My next wip was titled "NEVER FALL IN LOVE IN THE OCEAN" and was also focused primarily on character relations and conflicts amongst each other. The main character was trapped on a floating, planked island in the middle of the ocean, with other characters who had a deal to say about her and their own internal conflicts and behaviors. I wrote the climax during the plane and decided I hated it. I didn't like what it led up to. So I tried rewriting everything, the whole thing multiple times. I never found the solution. So I decided to put the draft aside, and see if I could find a better solution a few months or years down the line. In the end I reached 57k in about five months.

My next draft was about Grace, a Fragmented beast that had a great amount of power and was put in an education/facility for it, and Luna, a new scout who needed a Guardsman for her journey. This started out as a comic, but I soon decided to develop it novel-wise. I enjoyed working on this one a lot, but as I continued writing it, once again I felt that the plot was not thought out, and it felt like it didn't lead to much. Once again I was disappointed, having not planned much of the plot but more of the premise, and wanting to work on character relations more than plot, that I tried rewriting it again to add more story. This only lasted a few pages, and I was losing motivation from not understanding how I wanted the story to go. Once again I have put this draft aside, but I actually have looked at the first wip recently and I did like what I saw. Perhaps I will work on it again in the near future. In the end I have reached 28k words in two months.

My current wip is titled "The story of Cat Vegas" (actually it's "cat begas" on Google docs xDDD). It started out with me writing a short story about Jerry Cat and Serious Baby, the two toys I bought at an antique store and brought to school to show my friends. I really fell in love with their characters. Eventually I developed the world that they were in, and I decided to work on the lore, the landmarks, etc. for some mega world-building, but started again with simpler world-building based on an old Minecraft world of ours. Decided there wasn't enough plot, started again. This time I really worked on the plot, and how I wanted the story to end, working on it multiple times so I could feel satisfied with it. Feeling satisfied, I had started rewriting it in a thick journal, taking it with me wherever I go. I started it in June, and am still working on it. I have not transferred it to Google docs yet, so I have no clue how much the word count is. But I'm excited to see where the story is going!