#not because this game has taken over my entire psyche and I need to know everything about the world and the lore

[chemicallyyours]

seduction

Case study.

In order for me to engage with a woman I do not know, have never met, a perfect stranger, she must convey something to me by the way of looks, her eyes, her body, her smile, and her general appearance. Being aesthetically pleasing, seemingly sexual, sensual, or just some sort of something that cannot be defined right away, renders her mysterious, and that produces the desired effect.

If I am instantly affected by a woman's presence when she walks into a room, any room, all I can do is focus on her. Her presence won’ t let go of me. I then let myself be seduced by the idea that this woman will be mine, although at this stage it is just pure fantasy, it produces excitement. If I am sitting with other people, let’s say in a restaurant, I no longer ear what they are saying. My mind and I are entirely taken by the presence of this woman. I want to get to know her and get close to her. It is out of the question that this attractive woman will walk away without me introducing myself to her. It does not matter if she is sitting with one, two or five men, I will at some point walk over to her. The first thing is making eye contact without arousing suspicion. If you look at someone, anyone, repeatedly, at some point they too will glance at you. When it happens, the connection has been ignited. And folks, she glanced at me! She did ! I respond with a half-smile. A strategy sets up in my psyche. No questions asked, no need for answers, this hunter is on the hunt. At that moment, thinking that I have what it takes to win this woman over, I have no idea that I am the one on the verge of being seduced.

 She spent much of her time and money to make herself look as desirable as possible and boy, did she succeeded! She wears a pink short summer dress, with a generous cleavage that allows for imagination to take over. Her hair is short and it is clear that she is not a real blonde. She looks trendy, late twenties, early thirties with killer legs. From the table she is sitting at she glances at me again. It was brief but I caught it. She is now aware that she has my attention. Sometimes letting her know that you are interested is all it takes to seduce a woman. All women love attention and they will take it from wherever they can get it.

The game is on. Playing any game you must enter it fully confident that you understand the rules; that you have a good chance to win because you know you are a good player. But beware, she might be one too.  Being a woman, she is naturally curious, curious to find out who is this man who is sending her clear seduction signals. The fishing line is in the water. The fish is circling around the bait and that fish will soon to be caught. It will happen as soon as she gets up and heads for the bathroom. She wipes her lips with a napkin. She gets up heading for the staircase leading to the lady’s room. My turn to climb down those same steps. At this point I have no idea what I will say to her when we meet but I do not worry about it. Fear is not part of the game. Whatever she inspires in me will dictate what I will say. If her response sounds like I’m wasting my time, if she is not a good player, I will sense it quickly and what I will say to her will be so lame that it will be over before it begins. However I don’ t think it will be the case. She seems to know exactly what she is doing and I know she’s done it before. Coming out of the men’s room I notice that the door of the ladies’ s room is opening. She looks at me and smiles. I smile back.

To be continued.....

[lucidmagic]

I was rereading Phytos Guide and I was wondering on what your headcannon of Donna’s connection to her dolls is like.

Since you have them able to “be awake” for different amounts of time depending on the amount of cadou- whats Donna’s control over them? Her control over Angie? Do they gush over reader whenever Donna gets a strong gay pinning for them?

I personally like the idea of the reader stuck in a pile of cuddly dolls because Donna was thinking about them for no reason really wheeze

Okay, so what we get in the game is extremely vague about Donna's powers and how she controls her dolls. What we really know is that sometime after she was transplanted with the Cadou she separated a part of it and gave it to her dolls. But how she came about this and what degree of control she has over her dolls is unknown. So that's what I tried to fill in when Donna tell the Reader about her powers and such.

I know the common headcanon is that Angie is part of Donna's broken psyche, what with the grief of losing her entire family at a young age and then being taken advantage of and manipulated by Mother Miranda from then on. That headcanon has its merits and I love it outside of the context of my fic because--since Donna is arguably the least known of the Lords-- it adds weight to her character. Angie represents a child-like personality, rambunctious, loud, and giggly-- perhaps something Donna lost during her bouts of depression and grief. A sort of 'split' personality from Donna's more 'adult' mannerisms.

[Slight Spoilers for the Phytologist's Guide to Falling in Love below]

However, in my fic, I wanted Angie and subsequently Donna to have agency and character of their own. That's why I made a percent system as stated in Chapter 2. The Cadou in itself acts as a substitute for a natural life and manifests itself in different ways. Because it was originally Donna's which was then transplanted onto Angie, I surmise that Donna had (or what to have) a personality a lot like Angie, or at least a facet of that personality before the melancholy took over after having the Cadou was implanted.

So, because Angie has (what I said in Chapter 2) 25% of Donna's Cadou, Angie has the most distinct personality because she had the most Cadou out of the doll bunch. Donna can only separate a max second 25% because Mother Miranda forbade more than that, so Donna has to ration that amount for the rest of her dolls. And because Donna has implanted 63 (62 not including Angie), the rest of the dolls only have less than 0.4% of Cadou, which is enough to make them "awake". I mean Cadou seemed to be pretty powerful stuff so less than 1% of it seems reasonable.

So, here's the outline of what I believe is the level of control/connection Donna has over her dolls:

Donna can ultimately control all her dolls including Angie, though she doesn't like to do so directly, instead she suggests/asks them to do stuff, i.e., fetch a blanket for the reader during the end of the Heal Chapter. Angie will do the things Donna "commands" but she will complain about it the whole time.

She has a psychic connection through which she controls them and doesn't have to physically speak to them, instead mentally send out a message.

All the dolls have a personality, though obviously not as robust as Angie's because they only have the shadows of one when Donna was thinking of them when she was implanting the Cadou. This one is joyful, or this one likes to dance etc.

The dolls have only about 2 to 4 hours of being "awake" before they have to sleep or go into stasis to "recharge". Angie is the only one that has a normal human sleep cycle, though more toward a toddler sleep cycle, so she has multiple naps throughout the day (and she gets cranky when she misses one).

Angie can also eat, to nourish the Cadou and sustain it more fully. The other dolls don't because the amount of the parasite is minimal and doesn't need nourishment (though at another angle you can say that the "recharge" is their nourishment).

As for Donna's emotions and if it affects the dolls at all:

The short answer YES, the dolls and Angie are extremely in tune with Donna's emotional and psychological state and act in general as moldy emotional support pets for Donna's benefit.

When Donna is happy the dolls often reflect that, acting more lively than usual, and walk and play more. When Donna is sad, they are noticeably more reserved and often hover around her to protect/reassure her.

Though the <1% Cadou dolls are more simplistic, they can share their vague emotional state to Donna for their and her benefit. If they particularly like a sleeping place on a mantle Donna will get a flash of happiness and possibly a brief image of it. If they don't like that a stitch is loosening on their body, Donna will receive a flash of frustration and an image of where it is on their body, and so forth. It's simple and uncomplicated for the most part.

As for the Reader specifically... YES, THEY DO GUSH OVER THE READER ESPECIALLY WHEN DONNA IS FIRST FIGURING OUT HER FEELINGS.

It is clearly shown in several chapters that Angie particularly likes to tease Donna about her feelings for the Reader. And though it is not explicitly seen in the story, the other dolls do so in their own little ways. Donna will get flashes of the Reader in her mind and pings of warmth and happiness from several of her dolls at once, which only serves to deepen her blush behind her veil. Some will mentally giggle when Donna gets flustered around the Reader or thinks too hard about holding their hand like she wants to.

During height gay pinning times, if Donna is thinking about the Reader for an extended amount, some dolls that are awake will gradually migrate to them as if drawn to the Reader, in place of Donna's wants. The Reader is confused but doesn't no less make the Reader feel loved and cherished, though they are confused as to why.

While some of the dolls are skittish about new people in the manor, what ultimately brings them around to the Reader is Donna's trust in them, the past and present friendship, and her developing feelings-- which is new to both Donna and the dolls.

So far that's what I have for Donna's connection and control over the dolls. If you have any suggestions please let me know! I would love to hear them!

[hyperbali]

Agatha Harkness Was Right, And Here’s Why

Alright. Finally had to sit down and write my way out of this quiet, internal temper tantrum, and a few people were interested in seeing what I had to say, so I present to you:

Agatha Harkness Was Right, And Here’s Why

Disclaimer: MASSIVE spoilers for the entirety of WandaVision, and I am not nice about it.

I’ll start off by saying that, for all its foibles, WandaVision was genuinely a good example of a property within the MCU/Disney umbrella that stepped out of the usual ‘good guys fight bad guys action extravaganza’ in a way that pushed the envelope. The pseudo-horror aspect of the first few episodes is something I would really love to see engaged with on a more thoughtful basis in future projects.

I would say that it proved to be more than a vehicle to promote toys, but… well…

Yeah. Anyway.

I’ll assume that you watched WandaVision if you’re reading this, but quick recap: In the aftermath of ‘the Blip,’ Wanda is left broken and alone with no one in her corner. Her biggest mentor willingly abandoned his team to get his own ‘happy’ ending (do not get me started on Steve, that’s a document in and of itself), her other biggest mentor is probably off enjoying his family while ignoring the incredibly racist killing spree he’s been on for the past five years, and her lover is dead. When she goes to claim the body, she’s told nuh-uh, that’s government property, please leave.

So she goes to a plot of land in the middle of some nowhere town in New Jersey, which Vision apparently bought despite the fact they were living a pretty decently comfortable life in Scotland, where she looks at the deed that Vision drew a heart on and wrote ‘To Grow Old In’. Very sweet. Kind of weird, considering nothing of this caliber had ever been suggested for either of their characters and they’d been actively running from specifically the U.S. authorities? But sweet.

She has a breakdown and, in her grief, contains the entire town of Westview and all 3,892 of the people in it in her own personal paradise, where nothing bad ever happens beyond sitcom hijinks, no one dies, and every problem is tied up and neatly dealt with by the end of an ‘episode’. Except we learn that this is only paradise to Wanda, who apparently shares the aspect of having to relate everything to her favourite pop culture with Tony, because everyone else in Westview is more or less being psychologically tortured by the incredible amount of pain she’s in, forced to be puppeted actors to make her happy.

Bear in mind, Westview might have been bigger at some point - we have no idea how many people survived the Blip, or how many have been brought back to life within the past few weeks of the current setting. Either way, this is a town that has already dealt with a lot of trauma being dragged into yet another awful, much more specific kind of emotional damage, thanks to ‘the heroes’. Nice.

Agatha Harkness, a witch who’s been up to who-knows-what in the 340 years since she drained the coven that tried to kill her for getting a little too ambitious into jerky, feels the massive expenditure of magical power and decides to investigate. All the while, she carefully uses her own magic to try and peek into Wanda’s psyche, her motivations, all while keeping up appearances and not letting slip that anything is amiss.

I’ll point out that she’s no saint here, either - she specifically keeps one Westview resident at her mercy, and knows what’s happening to the rest of them, but doesn’t attempt to stop it. I’ll chalk that up to her pragmatism; their ‘sacrifice’ was fine to her as long as she could figure out how Wanda could have done something so unheard of in terms of power.

What we come to learn over the course of the show is that, given everything that happened, Wanda didn’t mean to take over an entire town and tool it into her own personal slice of heaven. She very quickly became aware of it; we know that she knows it’s her own personal bubble as soon as episode three, when she’s confronting Monica about how the latter could possibly know about Ultron. Wanda is made further aware of how much damage this is inflicting on others in episode five, when Vision himself tells her that these people are scared. But still, she has everything handled! It’s okay! The outside world is worse, trust her!

Her handling of the question, ‘where are all the children of Westview,’ is one that bears some thinking - and, y’know, kind of more than a little concern. They’re allowed to walk around as part of the ‘Halloween special,’ but as Vision walks further and further out towards the edges of town where Wanda doesn’t have as much full control, people are just frozen in place, or conducting the same few seconds of action over and over. And fully aware of being trapped.

How are they being sustained? Eating, sleeping? If someone isn’t part of her storyline, is she just locking them down into a coma? What made Wanda decide that keeping the children ‘out of the way’ was somehow kinder than involving them, especially given her later argument that she’s been trying to keep the entire town safe and happy?

The fact of the matter is, she only actually starts to feel remorse for any of this after she’s confronted with the fact that, after weeks of being at her mercy, the townspeople of Westview would rather be dead than endure another moment of having to play nice for her enjoyment. She finally opens the ‘bubble’ to let them out - which leads to the ‘epic’ finale of three different entities trying to take down Wanda and her happy family: the S.W.O.R.D. military led by Hayward, the White Vision, and Agatha.

Winding back to how we got here: after Agatha uses her own trapped resident, Ralph Bohner (who, given his casting and the props in place during the last episode, I’m willing to bet is actually the missing witness protection person Jimmy was looking for) in an attempt to lure out Wanda’s reasoning - and fails - she’s pretty much done pretending. She tricks Wanda into her basement, nullifies her powers, and makes her face her own past to get to the truth of the matter.

Not going to lie, favourite moment of the show. Kathryn Hahn killed Agatha’s slightly-amused-slightly-irritated observations about Wanda’s coping mechanisms, and the whole arrangement was extremely meta. I would have paid real money dollars to see her do the same thing to the likes of Tony, Strange, and Loki. Hell, even just having her meet the rest of the Avengers? Augh. If wishes were fishes.

When Agatha comes to the conclusion that Wanda is the vaunted, nigh-indestructible force of nature that she’s literally spent her entire life reading about is the ultimate source of chaos magic and will likely bring about the end of the world, she’s pretty understandably taken aback. To that matter, the fact that Wanda… has very little control over any of it, and is using what she does understand to play housemaker? After how long Agatha has spent learning control, hiding in plain sight, just to be child’s play compared to what Wanda has at her fingertips? I’d be pretty pissed off, too!

The way that WandaVision handled both of the major ‘fights’ - Vision versus White Vision ending in philosophy, and Wanda ending up beating Agatha at her own game of deception - is excellent. A little grating that they had to go with the beat down angle before they got there, but this is MCU; punches and thrown cars had to get shoved in somewhere. And, given that this series very much played with the idea of grey morality, I was sort of hopeful that Agatha would end up in a not-quite stalemate arrangement with Wanda. She’s not as powerful as the Scarlet Witch, but she has the know-how that Wanda sorely lacks; in recompense for her own deeds, she would be able to teach what she knows while also kind of scheming on her own time.

Y’know, like what they did with rehabilitating Loki?

Except that Wanda, who has just gone through the entire rigamarole of coming to terms with the fact that she trapped thousands of people into a nightmare scenario against their will, rendering them helpless to her mercy… traps Agatha into a nightmare scenario against her will, rendering her helpless to Wanda’s mercy.

That moment actually shook me. Oh, my god. We’re supposed to still look at Wanda as a good guy after this?

This isn’t even covering the incredibly awful confrontation with her and Vision where she tries to gaslight him into believing that everything is A-OK, or the fact that the person she gets most violent with (apart from Agatha) is Monica Rambeau, a black woman who spends most of the show bending over backwards trying to say that what Wanda is doing is understandable, justified, and just needs a gentle touch to be dealt with.

That could be its own document, too - how Monica, much as she’s incredible and definitely looks to be a really exciting addition to the MCU roster, more or less gets used as the Good One to absolve and enable Wanda’s actions. One of her last lines to Wanda, after seeing how the people of Westview (rightfully) look at Wanda like she’s monstrous, is “they’ll never know what you sacrificed.”

Sacrificed what? The fake husband and fake kids she made out of her own compulsion to pretend that everything is okay? None of that would have existed if she’d been given the proper resources to actually cope with how much loss she’s had to deal with. None of that would have existed if she hadn’t caused this problem in the first place.

In the end, Wanda flies off in her fancy new gear before the FBI shows up, avoiding any real consequences to her actions - which has pretty much been the running theme of her character ever since she was introduced to the MCU in Age of Ultron. The worst kind of direct consequence she’s ever gotten was being grounded to her room for a while, then kept in the Raft for, like, maybe a day - and both times, she was broken out post-haste.

Meanwhile, she worsened the issues in Sokovia (which, I will say upfront, was Tony’s fault to begin with), unleashed the Hulk on Johannesburg, got a pretty significant amount of civilians killed as bystanders in Lagos (hey, how come Wanda keeps turning a lot of black people into casualties?), and stood back in Wakanda to let their people try to fight off Thanos from getting to Vision until it was clear that there was no other option than for her to get involved.

Great Power Comes With No Responsibility At All, Actually.

Wanda, in the several years she has maintained her identity as an Avenger, has proven time and time again that she takes on innumerable risks without any full understanding of what they mean, allows others to take on the brunt of the fallout for her, and looks sad until she’s forgiven and moves on to the next problem. She has no business casually throwing around the kind of power that being the Scarlet Witch entails, not until she’s actually made any kind of headway into making reparations for what she’s done and tried, really tried, to get a handle on what she’s capable of.

Which she’s apparently doing in the last post-credits scene, astral reading the literal Book of the Damned on her lonesome in the mountains, but… without anyone to guide her, or give her any kind of boundary?

[I ran out of images I could post, but you know exactly what image I am referring to here]

Agatha Harkness was right. And that should terrify everybody that has to deal with Wanda in the future.

(P.S. Do we know if she actually even killed that dog? We never see her holding anything but a blanket, and characters go in and out of that show all the time. Granted, she wasn’t great with the cicada-turned-bird... hmm.)

Additional Notes:

“Well, you’re a Tony Stan, of course you think Wanda’s a villain”

I like Tony because he’s such an awful mess, and the narrative isn’t exactly kind about telling him what a piece of shit he can be! He reaped a lot of problems, created practically half the villains in the MCU, and ended up dying a martyred hero. Thanks to being the tent pole by which this franchise hoisted itself into a cultural powerhouse, he will always be their golden savior. If you want to read about how he’s the true villain of this entire affair, feel free to look up any number of takedown pieces about him that are out there. He’s a dick. I will never “uwu sad baby who did nothing wrong ever 🥺” him the way people do about Wanda.

“Why are you so pressed about this”

Because something as good in concept as WandaVision could and should have been about anyone other than the whitewashed, antisemitic take on Wanda Maximoff that MCU brought upon us. They put crucifixes on her wall in Civil War, for fuck’s sake!

“Weren’t you mad about them not including Aaron Taylor-Johnson”

At this point, I am almost kind of relieved the real Pietro wasn’t resurrected for this, because god knows they probably would have killed him all over again just to inflict that much more pain on his sister.

“Anything else you’d like to tell us, turbo nerd”

This was literally itching at me all weekend to write, so it’s more or less just to get it off my chest. If you powered your way through it, uh… thanks? Sorry if I yucked your yums, but I tried to be as clear with the disclaimer as I could. 🤷‍♂️

[clickbait-official]

mbc

from @artwitch28's headcannons

masterlist

tw: implied/referenced abuse, depressive themes, and transphobia

---

Endeavor was a stuck up little bitch.

Not that a lot of people knew.

Oh well. He’ll get his revenge one day.

Touya sighs, setting his keys on the counter.

“Keigo! I’m home!”

The house was big- airy, if that was a word. Birdboy hated closed spaces. Touya couldn’t blame him, either; he couldn’t stand anything that looked like his “training” room.

There was a thunk upstairs as Keigo ran down to greet him.

“How was work? How was Dad?” He asks.

“Dad”, Atsuhiro Sako, was Touya’s adopted dad. They worked together under their agency, the League of Heroes. The League of Heroes were made up of heroes who were told they were villains, or considered outcasts.

“It was alright, Big sis Magne started asking people if they wanted interns.” Touya responds to his fiance.

Keigo comes up behind him, hugging him and wrapping his wings around Touya.

“Hmmm. Did you look for an intern, dove? You could get your brother~”

“I didn’t think about it, no. But there’s Toga already. Did you?”

Touya can feel Keigo smile into his shoulder.

“There’s one with a bird quirk.”

“Oh, I see.” Touya smirks.

His stomach rumbles as he does.

“Aww, does my little birdie need some food?” Keigo says, a twinkle in his eye. “I’ll go get you some.”

He grabs his hand and leads him to the kitchen.

They look through the fridge, then the freezer.

“Chinken nuggets?” Keigo asks, after a beat of silence.

“You did not just reference that, again.”

And Keigo laughs, loud and clear. Touya thinks it’s the prettiest thing he’s ever heard.

God, he’s in deep, isn’t he?

They sit together at the counter while they wait for the food to cook. They don’t talk for a bit, just enjoying each other’s company.

“Speaking of Shoto, how’s the family? Rumi’s been talking ‘bout Fuyumi a lot.” Keigo says, taking the pan out of the oven.

“Oh my goodness- remember that crusty kid I was talking to you about? He’s dating Natsuo.” Touya deadpans, and Keigo bursts into giggles.

“God, he could do so much better! And he chose the crustiest kid on this side of Japan!” He rants, Keigo staring from across the table.

“Hana’ll kill you for that.”

Touya sighs again, knowing that he was right. “Yeah, I know. I still don’t know why Natsuo chose her crusty brother, but he’s happy. And it gets him out of the house, too.”

Keigo nods. “Away from Endeavor.”

“Away from Endeavor.”

They sit for a while in silence at that. Touya knows Keigo used to idolize Endeavor, and he knows why.

God, out of all people, couldn’t Keigo have a good childhood?

At least he’s not hurting now.

The sun has fallen, and they’re laying on their bed.

The moonlight filters through the curtains. Keigo’s been asleep for a while now.

The slightest breeze drifts into the room.

If we lived in a harsher world, we’d be so much more cruel.

Oh, what a beautiful night to be alive with you.

---

Touya brings Keigo into the agency. He’d been curious about how it worked- the League was unprecedented.

Touya hoped he’d want to join too. He wouldn’t mind his soon-to-be husband patrolling with him.

Hero work is a dangerous game to play, after all.

The League of Heroes’s building is not very intimidating. It’s survived thunderstorms, 52 mental breakdowns (not by the same person), and now the prank the entire League is in on.

It’s time for the hero charts.

Showtime.

It had taken so much bribing, from the poor intern that worked for one of the higher ups, to one of the higher ups themselves.

Touya could only hope it was worth it.

Oh, it was worth it.

On live television, in front of nearly the entire world, Enji Todoroki, known as Endeavor, had gotten massively pranked.

First, it was the glitter. Then, the water balloons and the rainbow slime. After that, it was the chicken and the three fire extinguishers.

And of course, copious amounts of cheese.

And it was all filmed. It was all broadcasted to a live audience.

Oh- and everyone knew who did it.

But there was no evidence.

God, Touya loved trashing Endeavwhore (and that’s an insult to sex workers).

It was the night after when Twice suggested something Touya had never thought of before.

The night was young, fireflies just beginning to come out. They were on the balcony, drinking and catching up like family would.

“Hey,” He said, “Why don’t you sue him? Get your bro outta that place and over here.”

Twice was a genius.

Twice was a goddamn genius.

Headlines were all over the place. “Endeavor gets sued?” “Enji Todoroki- an abusive piece of shit?” “Endeavor loses custody!”

God, the journalists were having a fucking field day with this. Touya can’t blame them, though.

The day was beautiful. Birds were singing, flowers were blooming, and little kids were running around outside. Keigo was sitting next to him, listening to his music. Touya finished up some paperwork to finally, finally get his siblings out from under Endeavor.

Thankfully, there was enough evidence to prove he was at least neglectful. People could finally see just how much of an asshole he was, and how high his civilian casualty and endangerment rates are.

There was one teeny, tiny, thing.

The Commission.

The only reason Endeavor was still in the top ten is because of that fucking Commission.

God, he hated the Commission. The things they did to Keigo, the scars that still remain on his psyche.

Fuck the Commission.

It just- It made him so angry. The way Toga and Spinner were treated, how Twice wasn’t able to get help until he became a hero- God, he hated it.

And he didn’t even know how bad it was! He was sheltered from Quirkist attitudes. Well, as sheltered as you can be, living with Endeavor as a dad.

He only knew a little bit of how much they had suffered under this system. He knew there was something more to how Twice always stayed in his hero costume, or how Magne avoided that one part of town. How Toga stared at that one schoolyard for a little too long before walking away.

And he hated it. So, so much.

Fuck the Commission.

---

It’s Touya’s first free day. The hecticness of moving all of his sibling’s stuff into their house was crazy. Who knew that keeping a house was so hard? Not him, that’s who.

So, like any rational person, he goes out to catch up with a close friend.

He had met her during his time at U.A. Her name was Hana Shimura. They bonded through their shitty parents. She was the older sister of the crusty fuck, Tenko.

Why did Natsuo decide to date him? He'll never know.

Somehow or another, the conversation went from how their days went to when Tenko got his quirk.

“Yeah, he decayed the dog! Thankfully he froze up after, so I got Mom. If he didn’t freeze up, I’d be dead.”

The way she had said it- so casually...She probably was terrified at the time.

“There was a UA student that helped him, too. Oboro? I think that was his name...Anyway, Oboro really helped him! He’s kinda a father to him, if I’m being honest.” She went on, telling Touya how proud of Tenko she was.

How he had become a search and rescue hero, which he already knew, and using his quirk he had helped so many people! Because he can decay the debris trapping civilians and rescue them!

They walk down the street, still talking about their siblings and generally how life was going.

They were gonna meet up with Twice. There was a new restaurant that he noticed during his patrols.

Touya heard it was pretty good from Fuyumi and Rumi.

It looked pretty nice, too. He’d walked by it a few times.

“So how is Twice, anyway? I don’t hear much from him these days.” Hana says, pushing open the door to the restaurant.

“Guess you’ll find out, huh?”

Twice is sitting at an empty table in a corner. He was smart enough to change out of his hero costume, just like Touya and Hana.

He lifts his head as they get closer to the table.

“Hey guys! How’ve you been!” He greets them as they sit down.

“Good, good. We were talking about my brother, Tenko.” Hana says. Touya nods in agreement.

“And also how he got to be a hero, too.”

“Did I ever tell ya how I got to be a hero?” Twice asks them, barely containing a smile.

He never told them, well, not Touya.

Turns out, when he was having trouble with his Quirk, one of his doubles went and got a hero license. At the time he was barely of the streets, so he became a hero, joining up with Mr. Compress and Magne to create the League of Heroes.

Because why not? It kept him off the streets and he could help people like him.

A win-win for Twice.

Touya hated how his weird uncle was treated before he became a hero.

Because he was a person, like anyone else. Just a person.

So why was he treated so differently? Why didn’t people help him when he needed it?

God, Touya was so tired.

---

It’s late one night. Touya is alone with his adopted father.

“Dad, why’d you decide to be a hero?” He asks out of the blue.

Atsuhiro’s eyes mist over, and Touya worries for him. Touya’s told him all about the horrific shit he’s gone through, and he can’t help but wonder if he had gone through something horrible too.

Atsuhiro takes out a silver locket, and gently pries it open. He points at the picture inside.

“Look! It’s them…My perfect little family... That’s them! There’s my little girl, and the most beautiful person to ever exist. There they are…”

It’s silent for a moment, the only thing one could hear were the cicadas far away from here.

Touya opens his mouth, “What...What happened to them?”

“A hero. He didn’t care for protocol. He killed- He killed them! And no one believed me…” Atsuhiro trails off, looking down at the floor.

Touya can’t help but feel sorrow, too. He could’ve had a mom, another sister...

He really needs to stop adopting people.

He can’t imagine the pain Mr. Compress must’ve been in. To lose a lover, a child? Oh, it must hurt- so, so much. To lose what was essentially a part of you?

Oh, it hurts to even imagine.

“...They’re really pretty, Dad.”

“They...were both so beautiful in this picture. Toga reminds me of her, y’know? They are both so pretty, so grown-up, and have that same sense of humor…”

Touya’s not sure to who he’s referring to, but nods anyway.

Who’s he to question grieving old men?

“And the days fly by so fast now, I can’t help but feel as though I’m supposed to be insulted by it. But I can’t bring myself to care anymore…It hurts, Touya, it hurts. Sometimes...I can hardly bring myself out of bed...I feel like a ghost…”

It’s silent for a moment, before Touya speaks.

“Dad, I think you need to get help. This isn’t normal. And…I think they’d want you to be happy too, Dad. Don’t you deserve to be happy, too?”

“...I don’t know.”

“You don’t...know?”

“I don’t think I am. But...I want you to be happy. And Tenko, and Hana, and Twice, and Magne...But it’s so tiring, being happy. And I don’t know what to do!”

His sobs seem to echo through the building.

“Come on, Dad. Let’s get you help. You can get some rest.”

He leads Sako back to his house, Atsuhiro being half-asleep by the time they get home.

Mr. Compress takes the spare bedroom, and falls asleep as soon as he hits the pillow. Keigo notices Touya, and walks over to him.

“Heya dove~ How was your day?”

“Worrying. Dad...Dad needs some help. He’s got some shit going on...He’s so tired, Kei. We need to get him therapy or something.”

“Oh, baby…” Keigo whispers, but Touya is too tired to hear.

He falls asleep in his fiance’s arms, safe and sound.

---

The house is abuzz with activity when Touya wakes up. Keigo’s laughter echoes around the place, filling the air with a sense of home.

What a beautiful way to wake up.

Touya gets dressed and walks downstairs. Keigo’s in the kitchen, talking amicably with his sister, Fuyumi. Dad was smiling fondly at the sight, picking at his food. Natsuo was talking on the phone with someone, blushing a little.

Keigo turns towards him, and oh, he was so handsome.

“Good morning, dovely~”

Unbelievable. It was too early for puns.

“Ugh, no. Don’t ever make puns this early. Dad, you doing okay?”

Atsuhiro looks over at him, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

“I’m doing just fine, sonny boy~”

“God, it’s too early for this shit. Keigo, get me some coffee, will you?”

“Language!” Fuyumi scolds.

Eventually the coffee is made, and tables cleaned. Breakfast is done.

Keigo helps set up an appointment with Fuyumi. She’s a part time therapist, part time substitute teacher.

Touya takes a deep breath. One day, Dad will be okay. He’ll be alright.

Time for work.

It’s a beautiful, sunny day when Touya goes on patrol again. This time with Magne and the new intern, Toga.

He already knew somewhat what the girls had gone through.

“Good morning, Magne, Toga.” He greeted them.

“Good morning!” Toga says, and then they go off.

Touya’s stuck in his thoughts as they walk to a coffee house while on break. He listens in as he reaches for the door.

“Yeah, my parents threw me out cause they didn’t think I was a girl.”

“My parents threw me out, too! I had to run away, they didn’t like my quirk very much...I got lucky, and Mom became my mom! That’s how I became a hero! How did you, big sis Magne?”

“Mr. Compress saved me from one of those fucking creeps. He let me stay with him for a while, and helped me get back on my feet. I decided to be a hero then, to help people like me.”

They sit down at one of the tables, still talking about their lives. Touya takes a bite of his muffin.

Ah, life was alright, if just for a little while.

--- requests & asks are open! (request em here) ---

@kirililbb

[marshmallowprotection]

I replayed Seven’s route and saw through the secret ending episodes (haven’t done that since 2019) and man is it me or is Rika kinda apathetic towards Saeran in the secret endings. In Ray’s route and especially his AE, she’s so fixated and obsessed with him and Saeyoung in hopes of this “happy family” and to feel needed. She was obsessive and possessive saying how much she loves Saeran like a mom loves her son. But in the Secret Ending when Saeran had a mental breakdown over him not getting the revenge Rika promised him. She got irritated and basically asked her believers to brainwash Saeran again and treated him like he was disposable, like Saeyoung can just take his place in “paradise”.

Like what happened, do you think the time between Another Story and Original Story was enough for her to lose her humanity along the way and play prophet full time. Like how Saeran’s demeanor in both those timelines are different bc he had to withstand Mint Eye’s treatment long enough to fixate on revenge completely and get a tattoo that solidified his devotion to what he didn’t know was a false cause.

Do you think Rika’s apathetic attitude is why Ray was “disposed” of in OS (I would say as an alter he was just dormant, covering his eyes and ears in a sense yknow?). Ray didn’t really play any part in OS so I thought Rika was done “playing mom” (since in the AE she said she missed Ray bc Ray was someone who needed her.) and wanted 100% focus on her plan

Sorry for rambling too much, this started off as a simple question but then my brain went “wait 🤔 what if 🤨”

-Moomi✨

So, a lot of this comes down to how you feel about connecting the two stories. A lot of people do not connect Another Story and Deep/Casual. So there are people that will say that it's just two different realities where possible circumstance can happen. I personally connect the two and I write with that in mind. Let me just say that there is a two-year time period between the two points that you can play in. That is a long time for things to happen and play out.

It's only been 6 months since he was taken in Another Story when Ray is there. Not a lot of time has passed and he is fresh in paranoia and in the manipulation that has been expended upon him. He is loyal to a T and very emotionally distraught. He is very lost and clinging to the last shred of hope that he has. There's a part of him that is cut throat and willing to destroy if that's what he has to do, but there's another part of him that's crying out when that happens.

Because he doesn't want to do those things but he has no choice.

She is the only person that's left in his life that hasn't abandoned him and he truly believes everything that she's told him. He's constantly trying to get her praise and attention because he doesn't want to be left behind. Suit Saeran said to himself that all of their vulnerable points of holding onto hope are inside of Ray. There is a reason why without the MC that Ray wouldn't be able to survive for very long. It's because Ray would never be getting positive influence. He would be a hurt more and more the longer that he was forced to lash out.

It would eventually destroy him. It would be too painful for him to exist because he would have nothing and it would be pointless. He would run himself ragged to give his savior what she wanted and he wouldn't be able to keep up with what she wanted. It would overload him. That is why Suit Saeran what eventually emerge at some point during that time period that would be after Ray combusted.

Suit Saeran isn't exactly stable either. He is built on anger and animosity, but he has just as many emotions as Ray has even though he tries to deny them. It's just instead of balling up everything inside of him, he's taking it out on everyone else because that's what he's been told his strength. He would work himself just as hard as Ray had, but there would be a part in the side of him that was just as twisted.

I personally do not see Suit Saeran and Unknown as the same person so that's important to note here. I imagine that at some point during that period after he gained control, something really bad would happen and it would cause a fracture inside of him. Unknown would be born if that split and eventually take control of the body. He is a lot more twisted. He's let go of the part of him that has hope, and the only thing that he's holding onto is devastation and destruction.

Everything is everyone else's fault and they need to pay for it. His sole purpose is completing their Revenge. He has a one-track mind and there's no doubt about that. He doesn't know what he's even going to do once he gets his revenge. He hasn't even planned that far. You can see that in a lot of the Bad Endings on Seven's Route. He is very emotionally vulnerable and on a hairpin trigger that could be easily broken. In a way he's like Ray. He and Ray have a lot more in common than he and Suit Saeran do with that.

Unknown has fully committed himself to this system. Whereas, with Ray and Suit Saeran, the both of them are able to express to the MC in the game, but they have doubts and that they know that she's not right but they have no other choice. Yes, they are committed to it in a sense but that doesn't mean that they are completely and wholeheartedly consumed by the Cult. There is still a part of them that is seeking that individuality and fighting against the pain and what sounds wrong.

Unknown has given himself to this. He sees no other point and he sees no other purpose. He's been tortured and pushed around his entire life, and it's been blamed on V and Saeyoung. This is the only thing that he's able to focus on and it's the only thing that he knows. It's the only thing grounding him. Rika is right behind him and whispering these lies and manipulation into his ear every single day. She treats him the way that she treats all of them, like a dog chasing food on the end of a string. She says pretty words and has great ideas, but if you follow her, you're never going to get the treat at the end.

And with Unknown, you know that he's been gaslit and manipulated to a degree much more lengthy than what Ray and Saeran went through; he's been stuck in this place by himself with nobody to hold on to. That just didn't stop because he started listening to what she wanted. That continued on. So did her constant denial of giving him praise. He's constantly trying to do things for her and that will make her praise him, and she always avoids doing it. He's always Chasing the Sun but he's never going to be able to touch it.

With Rika, you know that she's trying to cope by saying that she's a better mother. She's so lost in everything that she's been through and all of this anger that she's holding onto, that she's masking everything that she's doing and living her lie to the fullest. It's her way or the highway. She wants to get her revenge and she wants to prove that she was always right. She wants to be able to look at the crumbled remains of RFA as they seemingly all join her side one by one, and leave V in the dust.

She wants him to be a million things all at once. Her expectations for him are beyond what anyone could ever be. She says if you do this or that, she'll praise you and you'll be the best. But in reality, you're never going to be good enough in her eyes. That is the reality that he has to face. It's one that he tries to deny because she's made him truly believe that she's the only person that he has left. Yet, she treats him so horribly and only gives him enough so that he doesn't have enough doubts to make a fight.

She is apathetic. It's been so long and he's been failing her consistently in the secret ending. He wasn't able to get the MC. He wasn't able to get the party guests or the plans. He wasn't able to make good on any of the promises that he said that he was going to do. She's angry at him and she does what she's always done, blame him for being too emotional and punish him with more cleansing ceremony is so he can become the person that she wants them to be.

But like I said, the problem with that is that he's never going to be what she wants him to be.

She gets impatient. She stops putting on a pretty and friendly face for him. It's because he's not getting her the results that she wants fast enough. It's because he's not living up to what she wants him to be. It's because she's not happy and no matter how much she tries to use him to get what she wants to be happy, she's never going to be happy.

She's in a completely different place at this point in her life than she was in Another Story. She's had a hell of a lot more time to ruminate and get angry about how she's not getting results. At some point, she gets bored and tired of not getting what she wants. She's got a throne and she's got all of this power, but it's not making her happy. V is never giving her the response that she wants whenever they interact, and this just keeps feeding back into it. Her unchecked trauma and inability to accept responsibility for her crimes all play into this. The shame and the guilt...

I really do think that she lost whatever shred of humanity that she had. If you want to say that she had any of it. She's really had more time to get herself into place with the Savior position. She starts to think that she did the right thing by what she did to Mother Choi. She starts to think that she was right about doing what she did to the boys. What she did to V.

All of the people around her are constantly likening her to a saint and telling her that everything that she's doing is perfect and correct. She becomes more and more desensitized to the violence that she is committing. She is personally involved with many of the cleansing ceremonies. She is constantly there with all of this violence and trickery.

These are things that affect your psyche.

At some point, everyone around her is just useful for her goals. She doesn't really care what happens to Saeran because she has no more patience for him. He's constantly questioning her and fighting her. He doesn't listen like Ray listened. He makes a point of pushing back and at some point she just decides that it would be easier to get rid of him if she has to do it. In a lot of the Bad Endings, he does not know what the trigger to the bomb does. She literally just tells him that it's going to do something that will hurt his brother so much.

And he believes everything that she says. In those endings, she gives him the trip to the bomb because she wants to clear up the loose end. If she gets rid of him, she can easily manipulate his brother to do what she wants and turn him against V. She can use that opening to get whatever she wants. Seven would never know. She would just change her tactics and manipulate the other brother. Because at this point in her life, all she cares about is getting back at V. She blames him for everything and wants to destroy him for it. Nothing else matters at that point. She has a one-track mind at that point.

And what's more disheartening is the fact that she thinks that she wants that, but there's something inside of her that doesn't want that. She's just as conflicted as the rest of them are. I think it should be very telling to anyone about what's going on in her head space just by telling you to look at how willing she is to throw him away in the secret ending. She was ready to just throw him into the basement to have him used and abused again. Even if his brother tries to defend him and offer himself up, she's still pretty much ready to throw Saeran away.

She screams at him because he doesn't listen. That's why she says that she should have took his brother instead. She's tired of him fighting her and not obeying her every order and being her little puppet. She stops caring about him as a son when she realizes that a son isn't going to be her cute little puppet.

[illusionsofdreaming]

what kind of characters are your type?

To answer this question I had to look into the deepest, darkest depths of myself. And it was an absolute dumpster fire in there. 

Course, I could’ve just taken the easy way out and list out several characters I like but why do that when I can try to psych myself out by analysing why?

So without further ado...

my favorite character types:

Let’s get the simplest one out of the way first which is: Character visual design

This only applies to characters which usually have some sort of canon visual design (eg. anime, manga, webcomics, games. For now characters from books will be excluded.) 

I’ve picked a few good boys as examples but as you can see, I seem to have a preference for two types of designs: wavy hair and redheads. 

Wavy hair group:

is that bedhair or natural curls? sometimes look like they’ve never showered in 80982638 years but still hot. only works in anime. rain only makes their hair look better. 80% chance they smoke. usually darker hair. 200% tired. probably looks kind of dead inside. also can look evil/assumed evil but actually baby. wow they already look good but when they pull their hair back-ASDLAKSJDLKJ. I want to run my fingers through their hair. btw those curls can’t be replicated in rl. short, medium, long lengths, all of them please.

Redheads:

red.

With that out of the way, let’s move on to the good stuff. Character personalities.

Did I just make a shitty meme for this? Yes. Yes I did.

Obviously that’s not the real selling point of these babies. 

It’s also not everyone but I specifically chose these few as an example because they are also part of a group I’d like to call “boys with unassuming/disagreeable reputation but psych! they’re actually super smart” group.

Please, let me elaborate.

These characters usually have two sides. The public face and the ‘real’ self. Now, a lot of characters have two faces but the characters I end up liking are those who’s ‘public face’ is perceived negatively or extremely ‘harmless’ that they’re often underestimated/looked down upon. 

Their fronts are actually a defense mechanism - a repellant if you would - to discourage others from investigating too close and hide their vulnerability. Because most of these babies have been through so much.

Virion’s flamboyant, braggart, flirtatious front masks the fact he still feels so much about the fact he’s been forced out of his country, watched his people die and continue to suffer their wrath for what they perceived as his ‘cowardice’ when he was just as much of a victim as anyone else. 

Cale who insists he is trash because theres injustice in this world and if he’s trash he might as well break all the rules and mould the world as he sees fit. If only to create a world where people can live without regrets then he’d be the trashy one and point out the flaws in the system and correct it himself. Trash don’t follow rules anyways. 

Kenshin who clings to an easy-going, happy-go-lucky, very non threatening persona as he tries to live day by day, atoning for the sins of his manslayer past which haunts his every step.

Claude is known as the schemer. A person who’s nonchalant attitude makes reading his intentions hard. Untrustworthy. A person who’s willing to use any and all kinds of underhanded tricks to win. Because that’s how he had to survive back home, when he had to fight his brothers to survive. He learned to keep a facade because the wolves are vicious and unforgiving once they smell blood. Despite his childhood, he only had one simple wish, grander than others. To open the borders, so that everyone can be treated as an equal. 

Venti literally wore the face of his dead friend for over 2,000 years, need I say more?

I would go on and explain more but I think you get the gist of it. Perhaps what separates them from others is the fact they don’t care to change what others think, almost welcoming bad rep because it helps one way or another to be unnoticed and underestimated.

Because guess what. All of them are incredibly smart/skilled. It’s sexy. Despite their skillsets, they would choose to withhold from abusing them and accept abuse society throws at them instead. Well not entirely, they do have a line, it’s just more tolerant than others but boy, if it is crossed... 

Perhaps it’s because I’m a writer, these characters just naturally attract me because their duality has so much potential I can angst about. 

Anyways, that seems to be majority type of characters I go for. There’s also a small group of emotionally constipated characters such as Saizo from Fire Emblem Fates and Gilbert Nightray from Pandora’s Heart. These characters who are fluent in communicating in grunts and glares, have the emotional range of a brick, gets offended if they’re given affection - otherwise colloquially known as the tsunderes.

random outliers:

Tartaglia is... I don’t know. He just grew on me like a stinking weed. He’s a bit on the crazy side but I think I smell something of story - I don’t know much, I feel like I want to know more but whoops. I like him now.

Niles who’s whole personality revolves around being as vulgar and repelling as possible. An angry cat, albeit a justified angry cat. He has so much anger and expresses it so painfully. that I just. can’t. I feel for him.

[lihikainanea]

so clark is filming right now and what if tiger was tagging along secretly with him. she hangs out in his hotel or goes on her own little adventures. he needs a lot of loving after some of these shoots as clark is an intense guy. she’s more than happy to help him and even makes sure to get a hotel room with the biggest bathtub possible.

oh man, I love this so much. My little empath heart really marvels at actors sometimes, who can flawlessly portray these really dark, devastating, disturbed characters that are usually--hopefully--really far off from their baseline without actually starting to carry those horrible traits with them. I mean shit, I have a bad day at work and that stays with me for days and I can’t shake it. But to spend 14 hours a day fully enveloped in the psyche of someone so disturbed and to just be able to shake that off at the end of the day like it never even happened? Man that shit is a mental game I wish I had.

In an interview a little while ago, Bill mentioned that either right before he was done or immediately after he wrapped on IT, he had nightmares for a little while. And that really stuck with me, I don’t know why but it did (almost made up for his “I’ve had pets growing up but I don’t know I never got attached to any of them.” Bitch w h a t)

In any case, Bill being a little caught up in the head of the character he’s portraying and needing tiger to kind of help break him out of it is one of my favourite concepts. I run my mouth to hell and back about how much Bill supports her, how grounded he keeps her, how safe and loved he makes her feel--but she is every bit his anchor, too. She’s the only one who can get through to him when no one else can. She’s the only one who can pull him out if he’s in too deep. And she does--every single time, she does. She supports him. She comforts him if he’s just a little disturbed and a little down by it all. But she also fights him, she also lets him know when he’s going too far, when he’s sinking too deep, and she doesn’t back down no matter how angry he gets. Bill isn’t always good on being called on his bullshit, sometimes it makes him incredibly defensive, shuts him down, makes him isolate himself further or get into even worse habits. His past is never far from him and while it’s not a daily battle to escape it anymore, it always rears its ugly head and the fight gets harder when his head gets messed up.

Tiger doesn’t let him get away with it. She’s not scared of him, no matter how angry he gets.

And he loves her for it. He relies on her for it, depends on her. She is his salve, his anchor, his fucking reality check when he needs one.

I don’t know much about Clark Olofsson, but I like Papa Skars’ take on it that we should all be weary of romanticizing that level of evil--so clearly the dude had some shit going on. And it’s not everything that gets to Bill--over the years, his career has help him build a thick skin. Sometimes playing off the wall characters like Pennywise is the easier option, because those characters aren’t real. Nothing about them is real, everything is so exaggerated.

But playing a human being who is so tortured, who purposely inflicts so much pain on other people--that’s the kind of stuff that messes with his head. Whether or not the character is a real person that exists or not, playing someone deeply disturbed yet somehow relatable, somebody on the edges of sanity that we can all somehow still see ourselves in--that’s the kind of suff that fucks him up. That’s what gets him in too deep, until his own personality and his own demons come way too close to the surface.

Maybe he notices that he’s a little too down, a little too out of it, and he calls her. But I actually much prefer the concept that tiger notices. She notices on his phone calls, on his face times. She notices in the edge that his voice has taken on his uncharacteristic lack of patience. She notices that every time he calls her, he’s smoking--and Bill chain-smokes when something is wrong. She’s noticing a set in his jaw, a hardness in his eyes a nonchalance and coldness in his attitude that is just not gonna fly. So she books a ticket, and she heads out to him.

Maybe it’s a fight--maybe he resists, tells her she shouldn’t have, that he’s busy. Hell maybe he even gets a little mean and tells her that she’s just stressing him out more now--but tiger doesn’t budge. She doesn’t back down for a second. And it doesn’t take long before he kind of cracks--tiger, to her credit, also has a gentleness about her that will always get to Bill. it will knock down whatever fucked up wall that he didn’t even realize he put up--because just being in her presence balances him. It makes him realize how deep he actually got himself.

And I low key love what you mentioned here--Bill is always her caretaker, but when her Big Dude needs it? Tiger is the alpha. She’s the one who steps up and takes over. She gets him out of the hotel room where he’s been staying for two months, and into an apartment where he can feel a bit more at home. She stocks his fridge. She cooks for him. She drags him out to a restaurant, or even one of those seedy bars they’re both such fans of. She draws him a bubble bath, and manhandles him into it when he claims he’s too busy and then she plunks between his legs, makes him hold her. I kind of love that concept--that she makes him hold her. Because she knows her Big Dude, and he’s in there somewhere, and a little part of him, his protective side, will always flare up when she folds into his arms.

So that’s what she does, to bring him back. Every single chance she gets, she crowds his space, squeezes him, wraps his arms around her. Maybe she worries enough that she just sets up camp with him for the entire shoot--because hell she’s working remotely anyway, may as well be with him.

Ugh, sweet nani, I have a very special place in my heart for caretaker tiger.

[doyelikehaggis]

Can I ask for the WIP nudge game about the "Secrets of Scotland" story AND about "Scott gets taken by the Ghost Riders"? Thanks!

Of course you can! Starting with "Secrets of Scotland" which is one of my original stories that I'm trying to write at the moment. It started as a bunch of short stories about mythological creatures in Scotland, and has sort of become one big story instead? I'm still not sure if they're all going to be separate or not. But basically, Andy, the main character, stumbles upon each of these creatures, initally because they get lost and end up getting nearly drowned by an each-uisge, but is saved by a kelpie, accidentally revealing their world to them. Andy and their sister Lizzie then end up forced to help some of these creatures when they track them down and tell them that Andy owes them for saving their life. Now they have to save theirs! This keeps happening, and Andy would get fed up of it, but they keep making friends with these creatures and finding their hiding places all over Scotland. At the same time, Andy just really wants to go to college without having a centaur burst into their dorm.

Trying to keep an eye on Lor at all times is like trying to climb up a flat, fifty-foot high wall that just so happens to also be floating ten feet off the ground. Impossible without superpowers. She springs from tree to tree like some kind of frog.

The only thing keeping Lor in sight is the glimpse of green trailing behind her. The leaves all try to follow as she passes, as if caught up in a breeze made just by her existence around them, but thankfully, they're darker than her actual hair, or else Andy's sure they would be doomed to get lost.

There's still a very real possibility of that, as even when Lor stops moving for a moment as if to allow them to catch up, she seems to meld into the trees, her skin trying to rejoin the oak grove as part of it rather than as a visitor. Andy gets a swoop of panic when they lose sight of her, thinking that Lor's decided to call it quits and leave them to their own devices. But she reappears a moment later, back to the leaping frog-like movement, touching every tree on the passing in a kind of greeting to an old friend. She continues to speak without pause, her voice a whistle, bouncing off of the trees, and her words an almost incoherent jumble that Andy stumbles over like the forest debris beneath their feet.

"You said it wis up this way, right?" Andy asks, though still not entirely sure what "it" is as Lor dodges any actual clarification like she's doing with the patches of nettles and thistles that are knee-high all around them. Andy is not having the same success; they avoid one only to step right into another. Their ankles are crying, and honestly, they might join them soon.

Lor doesn't stop walking, but turns around and continues backwards to face Andy with a pixieish grin. The giggle that bubbles up past her lips makes Andy's stomach lurch. "Did I?"

And now "Scott gets taken by the Ghost Riders"! God, I need to get back to this one immediately because I was so into the idea. It is exactly how it sounds; instead of Stiles, the Ghost Riders take Scott. Which is a lot more compliacted for the pack, unfortunately. Now they're questioning many more things as more is uncovered, like how half of them are even friends, and in Liam's case, how he got turned. Stiles and Lydia are convinced that something is wrong from the get to, but even when Lydia gives up hope of finding out what it is exactly, Stiles swears up and down that he will find the person they're all missing. The person he loves. Meanwhile, Scott is having to deal with Peter.

Scott smiles and rolls his eyes. Without looking up from his textbook, he suggests, "Or maybe you're sublimating the stress of graduating by avoiding key milestones."

All of his friends go silent as he turns to face Stiles, met with furrowed eyebrows. He glances between Stiles and Malia staring at him like he's just grown two heads and Lydia's suspicion. At least he knows that means he definitely took a good guess.

"Psych paper," he explains, gesturing his pen down at the notebook.

There's an echo of "oh" from all of them, that obviously making more sense than Scott just making it up on the spot. Still, he's happy with himself for remembering that much. Most of it feels like it's been going in and coming straight back out.

"I hope it's not due soon if you haven't started it yet," Lydia says, and he turns back to look at her in confusion. She gestures her head at the notebook, staring at it. "It's blank."

Scott quickly looks down at it as well. He pauses, his eyes narrowing at the paper. Sure enough, it's completely blank. There isn't even a title, never mind any of what he's been writing for the last ten minutes or two days.

He picks the notebook up and flips the page. There's nothing. The next few are all the same, telling him that the wind definitely didn't just flip it to a different one. The entire paper is just not there.

"I was just writing it," he says in confusion, shaking his head. "I stayed up for hours last night, how...?"

"Maybe you just wrote it in a different book," Stiles says. "Or maybe you're the one who's sublimating the..." he pauses, then rolls his eyes, waving vaguely at him, "whatever the hell you said. Stress. Graduating. That stuff."

Scott just continues shaking his head to himself. He chews on his bottom lip and says, "Maybe."

[smkkbert]

Time for a story - So it begins

To read before:  Present tense & Missing

Thea and Roy were the last to arrive to the bunker. Roy was holding the sleeping Robbie cradled against his chest. Thea, who was seven months pregnant now, was holding a hand to her baby bump. The slow movements of her fingers told Oliver that she could feel her baby, his nephew, kicking at the excitement of this nightly trip.

As soon as Thea had taken the few steps up onto the platform where Felicity’s work space usually was, she crossed the distance towards Oliver. Straightening up on the tip of her toes, she wrapped her arms around his neck and put a hand to the back of his head.

“We will find her, Ollie,” she promised with whispered voice, soothing him, “of course we will find her.”

Oliver put his arms around Thea’s waist and tried to believe in her words. He wanted to believe that she was right. He wanted to believe in that spark of hope that she offered, but he just couldn’t do it.

While they were still hugging, he looked at the team that he had to help him find Felicity. Thea and Roy were his legal family. John and Lyla were his family by heart. John had been the first person to join his team. He was his best friend, and the person he trusted more. He was the one who would have to lead this operation because he was calmer and more focused than Oliver could be, especially given the situation at hand. Nick was Felicity’s – and through that – his family too. He wasn’t exactly stable yet, but he was skilled, and he’d do everything necessary to save Felicity. When it all went down, Oliver trusted Nick to follow him in the most dangerous darkness to save Felicity.

Fact was that the entire team was family. People who went through the shit that they had been put through and continued to go through it again and again every single night they went out into the field for years either became enemies or family. Oliver was lucky enough to call the people around him family.

They’d be complete if Tommy and Laurel were there too, but they had gone on vacation three days ago. Tommy had wanted to escape his day of death. It was still so traumatizing for him that it was hard for him to live through it. Taking his wife to some lonely place where they could be all alone and he could let himself fall and be caught by her was what he needed. Oliver got that. He often felt the same way about his trauma.

Oliver tightened his arms around Thea’s waist once more before he let go of her. He took a step back and flashed her a sad smile. It was meant to soothe her the way that she had tried to soothe him and tell her that he was doing okay – as okay as possible given the circumstances – but he guessed that it looked so pathetic that it wasn’t believable at all.

While Thea stepped back towards Roy, who put his free hand to the small of her back and rubbed it over the probably aching part of her muscles, Oliver looked around the faces of the people around him. His fingers tightened around the banister around him.

“Thank you all for coming here. I know that-“

“Spare yourself the breath, Oliver,” John interrupted him softly and shook his head, “because, as far as I got it, we don’t have a lot of time. What about Felicity?”

Oliver sucked in a deep breath, grateful that he got to skip the general rules of politeness. After the island, he had felt like he had forgotten all about those rules the same way he had felt unable to participate in small talk or anything like that. Felicity had taught him to adapt to more normal standards, but sometimes it was still hard to remember it.

“William Tockman got her.”

“Tockman?” Roy frowned. “Should I know who that is?”

“He calls himself the Clock King. Sara, John, Felicity and I know him. He hired two criminals to steal something from Kord Enterprise and killed one of them for killing a guard. Later, he hired others to steal money from the Starling National Bank. We set him up, so he broke into another agency of Starling National. That is where we took her down, well, Felicity did.”

“So he wants revenge,” Dominic concluded and crossed her arms in front of her chest, “and he wants to wreak revenge on Felicity the most which is not good news.”

Oliver nodded his head though he felt every muscle in his body tensing once more. He knew what Lyla meant. There was no good reason why Tockman would want Oliver to find Felicity alive. Her death would certainly suit him much more, at least unless he was going to kill him in front of her eyes.

“Tockman is playing a game.” Oliver gestured to the traces that he had found already. “He sent me the countdown. That’s the time I have to find Felicity. It started at forty-eight hours and went down since I opened the gift box it was wrapped in.”

Forty-one hours and thirty-four minutes were left, and it continued to run out right in front of his eyes. There was nothing he could to to stop it, and it already felt like it was too little time to succeed.

“He said we will start where we finished the last time, so I drove to the bank and found that tablet in my private box. It allows me to see Felicity, but I can’t contact her.”

“May I check?”

Oliver grabbed the tablet and put it onto Lyla’s hand willingly. He knew that through her job at A.R.G.U.S. she had a lot of hidden talents and a lot of resources. From the computers here, Felicity had given herself access to these abilities, and Lyla knew that too. She linked the tablet with Felicity’s system and started working her way through the almost child-proof system. Still, she’d probably be more successful than Oliver would have been.

“He said that there are rewards to be unlock if I follow the right traces, but they will be taken away if I take the wrong traces.” He sucked in a deep breath. “And I am not allowed to get myself any help to do this. It was meant to be a one-on-one. Calling you and telling you everything about this wasn’t a light choice to make because it might cost me the person I love and need most in this world. I just know that Felicity ”

Saying that made his chest felt heavy because it reminded him once more what risk he had taking by calling John. Given what was on the line for him, he shouldn’t have been able to contact him. If it hadn’t been for the fact that he knew how much Felicity had always said that they needed to trust in their friends and needed to trust in the joint effort of the team, she wouldn’t have contacted them.

Oliver could see his family and friends sharing meaningful looks. They knew how much it must have taken from him to call them. He had always done things alone and, even though he had gotten offers for help from people he had felt he could trust a lot of times, he hadn’t been able to take those offers. He had just been too used to doing things alone, and deep in his bones he had still believed that the only person he could trust was himself. That was how it always had been after all.

“We need to find Felicity,” Oliver said, “and, to do so, we need to find the next clues. The tablet was the last thing that I got from Tockman, so it has to lead to some new traces. The tablet has to be the key to the next trace.”

Dominic nodded and stepped right behind Lyla. Looking over her shoulder, he tried to follow the codes she went through. The way he narrowed his eyes at what he was seeing at the screen told Oliver that he had no idea what he was seeing there. Felicity had often joked that Roy really didn’t get the way tech worked at all although he did very well at trying to cover it by sounding smart and like he knew his way around a computer.

“A.R.G.U.S. would be a great help with this.” Lyla sighed while her fingers moved on the keyboard. Others would probably say they were moving quickly, but since Oliver had memorized the clattering sound of Felicity’s fingers dancing over the keyboard, he knew it was rather slow compared to her. The comparison wasn’t exactly fair though as Felicity had been behind computers for years, and it had been exactly where she had wanted to be. “My experts in IT know their way around a computer much better than I do and-“

“I don’t trust A.R.G.U.S.”

“I basically am A.R.G.U.S.,” Lyla replied almost a little sharply, turning around in Felicity’s chair and looking at Oliver urgently, “because I ran background checks on them. They all came back okay. I also interviewed them to test their psych. I made sure that everyone working for A.R.G.U.S. is fit and trustworthy of the job. I was very thorough in choosing what agents had to go and what could stay. I trust everyone working for A.R.G.U.S. because they have been chosen thoroughly.”

Oliver knew that Lyla was saying the truth. She was a good friend of Felicity and him. She knew how much they meant to John. She wouldn’t keep it a secret if she had even the slightest doubt about this. If there was a mole within her team, she would say it because

“You are a part of that agency which is not the same as being A.R.G.U.S.,” Oliver countered, “which is why I trust you, but I don’t trust your agents. I don’t trust them with anything that affects my missions, and I definitely don’t trust them with my wife’s life. It’s Felicity.”

He knew that he could trust Lyla because she had become part of this family a long time ago. She had supported Felicity when she had needed it the most, and she offered her services to the team a lot of times too. Still, given the history that he shared with A.R.G.U.S., Oliver couldn’t trust that institution. He knew how it worked, and he knew that he wanted no part in it if it was avoidable.

“There are too many people involved in this as it is.” Oliver sighed. He knew that a fight was the last thing he needed right now. “I don’t want to risk even more by asking for more people to help.”

Lyla knew that he was just soothing her. Oliver could see in her eyes that she knew. Instead of saying anything, she just nodded her head and turned back to the computers though. After all, she knew as well as he did that this wasn’t the right time to pick up a discussion about whether or not A.R.G.U.S. was trustworthy.

Oliver’s eyes found the countdown once more, and he felt his heart aching in his chest. He was looking on life a lot more positively now than he had a couple of years ago, but he was still a realist. Chasing criminals on the street was much easier than playing the games of some psycho. He wasn’t the one in charge here.

In the latter half of his life so far, Oliver had experienced a lot of loss. Every single one had taken a part of his soul. For years, he had been walking around like a ghost, really being a shell of a body more than anything else. That was what happened when the people you cared about were ripped from your life, and it was completely out of your control.

With how helpless and out of control he had felt with every time someone he loved had died, Oliver guessed it was no surprise that he had turned into a control freak. Like so many of his symptoms, it had become better with time, but he still had trouble sometimes. During family walks, he always needed his kids to stay somewhere close. He always needed to know where they were. It made him nervous when he couldn’t see them.

Losing the people that you loved the way he had lost them did that to people.

“I need a phone.”

His words seemed to surprise the people around him. He didn’t care to explain to them that he didn’t want to use his phone in case Tockman would call him. With a single look he told everyone that he was serious and held out his hand. Immediately, everyone reached into the pocket of their pants and held their phones out for him. Thea was the first to put her phone into his hand, so Oliver took it.

“What are you doing?” John asked.

“There is someone that I have to call.”

“Curtis?” Thea asked. “That’s probably a good idea. Felicity was the one who invited him in on the team in the first place to replace her and-“

“It’s not Curtis.”

Oliver wondered if he should call Curtis. While he had indeed jumped in a couple of times when Felicity had been unavailable and he had actually been a regular part of the team since they had divided it into two shifts, for some reason Oliver just didn’t consider him a close part of this family. Maybe it was because, other than Arrow operations and QI occasions, there were barely any touch points between them. Maybe it wasn’t fair not to call Curtis, but he really was Oliver’s last priority right now, and he actually wasn’t sure enough if he could trust the bubbly man to keep a secret like this.

John frowned when Oliver stated dialing the number. Oliver only saw it from the corner of his eye, but he lifted his gaze to his friend nonetheless. His thumb was already hovering over the green receiver.

“I need to call Bruce.”

A couple of years ago, these words would have surprised Oliver himself, but not anymore. He had grown a lot through the years and he had learned to understand people as well as people’s feelings a lot better. Understanding a person that was in love with Felicity was the easiest.

“If the situation was the other way around, and he was the one married to Felicity, while I was hopelessly in love with her, I would want to know.” Oliver pressed the green receiver. “Bruce deserves to know.”

It didn’t take long for Bruce to take the call. He didn’t say a word though, probably suspicious as he wasn’t sure who war calling. Oliver doubted that he had saved Thea’s number. Just like Oliver himself, Bruce knew that an unknown caller usually meant that there was trouble as only a handful of people had access to their phone numbers.

“Bruce, it’s me. Oliver.”

There was only a beat of silence, barely longer than the beat of a heart. As short as the moment of silence was, it still weighed heavy. Bruce had experienced as much pain as Oliver had in his life. Maybe his pain and his experience had been different, but it had taken him to the same point it had taken Oliver eventually.

“What happened?”

“William Tockman aka the Clock King took Felicity. He gave me two days to find her and, although I know it’s against the rules, I think a group effort is our best chance.”

“I will be in Starling before sunrise.”

Oliver nodded his head when Bruce had already hung up. He was glad that Bruce was coming here. They could need the help, and he offered the right expertise for this battle with Tockman. If someone aside from Felicity could fight him, it was Bruce.

“I might have found something.”

Quickly, Oliver handed his phone back to Thea and stepped behind Lyla, who was skimming through a folder full of music files.

“What did you find?”

“Well, to be completely true here, Felicity’s security check found it. The folder has been hidden and was secured, but the system basically found and unlocked it all by itself thanks to Felicity’s preinstalled routine mechanisms.”

So Felicity was probably going to find herself at the end and lead them right towards her, so they could get them out of wherever she was held captive. Felicity had learned early to save herself.

“What files are there?”

“They are all music files. Apparently, they belong to different albums of a band that’s called Mortician.”

“How is that going to help us?” Thea asked and stepped next to Oliver. “It has to be a new trace, but where is it supposed to take us?”

“I looked at the files a little bit more thoroughly.” Lyla shot a brief look back over her shoulder before she turned back to the monitors. “The song that was most listened to is called Zombie Apocalypse. I looked for any connections between that and Tockman or the song and Starling City. Apparently, a horror movie with the same title has filmed some scenes around here. On the property of a local mortician.”

“That’s where I will start my search for the next trace.”

“I’ll come with you.”

Roy already turned to follow Oliver, but he shot a look back over his shoulder and shook his head. It might have looked weak, but it made Roy stop nonetheless.

“No,” he said, “I will go alone in case Tockman observes me.”

He had risked enough as it was. He couldn’t go a step further. If Tockman saw him with anyone of the team, he would know that Oliver had broken the rules. Maybe he knew already. Oliver hoped that wasn’t true, but it was possible. He just couldn’t allow himself to think about that.

 → → → → →

Since it took him more than an hour to get to his destination, less than forty hours were left to find Felicity by the time that Oliver arrived at the morticians. Although it was still the middle of the night – something he had only realized once he had arrived at the building – there was light behind one of the windows. Apparently, someone was working a nightshift or something.

Oliver went to the door and knocked at it firmly. Maybe the light had only been left switched on by accident, but Oliver really couldn’t care less right now. He had an excuse to say why he had knocked at the door so late, but he wouldn’t care if he woke up anyone.

It didn’t take too long before the door was opened. An elder man with glassy eyes and tousled hair was looking at Oliver over the rim of his glasses. Before Oliver could say anything though, he nodded his head with a long sigh and beckoned him to come in.

With a quick, suspicious look around Oliver tried to find out if there was anyone watching him. Since he got the impression that he had been expected, he wondered if Tockman was somewhere around here. Even if he wasn’t, he certainly had been here or had sent someone to come here and announce that he was going to come here.

This was the right trace. Oliver could feel it.

Oliver stepped into the house carefully, already taking a thorough look around. This might be a trap, one of those wrong traces after all. His feeling might betray him. It had happened before after all.

“Come on,” the man that had opened the door for him said, “I will show you the coffins.”

“Thanks,” Oliver said after a brief moment of hesitation, “that’s exactly what I intended to see.”

He had no idea what game exactly was being played here, but he guessed that playing along was his best choice for now. At least that was he wasn’t dismissed just yet.

“I know.”

The man sighed, looking at Oliver for a long moment. He looked him up and down thoroughly, taking him in and judging him for sure. He looked at him like he thought very little of him. As the mayor, Oliver was used to that. He was used to people thinking little of him because of the political decisions he had made. There was something else here though. Oliver could feel it.

“I am sorry for the late visit.”

He had to feel a way into this conversation. He had to find out what exactly was being placed here without losing his chance of finding the next trace. It was close. He could feel it. He couldn’t risk losing it.

“I knew what I was getting myself into when I agreed to do this.” The man sighed once more. “Luckily, I wasn’t paid that badly, so I guess it’s okay.”

Oliver nodded his head, unsure wat he could say to that. He still wasn’t sure if all of this was right or a trap or whatever.

“I voted for you by the way.”

“Thank you.”

“I have to admit that I am not sure I would have done it if I had known that you were taking part in scavenger hunts.” He stepped into what looked like a showroom for coffins and turned around to Oliver. With his arms crossed in front of his chest, he looked at Oliver almost a little dismissively. “I thought your days of being a spoilt bachelor were over.”

A scavenger hunt. That was what he believed was happening here.

“They actually are over. I was persuaded into joining.”

The mortician just nodded his head, looking Oliver up and down once more. If Oliver had to bet, he’d say that he wasn’t going to vote him next time. He didn’t care, at least not right now.

Oliver shot a look at his watch. He didn’t have time for long conversations. He needed to get onto Tockman’s track.

“I guess your time is precious since you want to find your friend.”

Again, the mortician sighed. Turning away, he opened one of the coffins and reached inside. When he turned back around, he held out a USB drive for Oliver. Taking it, Oliver turned the little device between his fingers.

“Your friend asked me to tell you something.”

Oliver perked up his eyebrows and felt his heart skipping a beat. Maybe the message in combination with whatever was on the USB drive would take him a step closer to Felicity.

“What did he say?”

“He said The dead are always trying to convince me how comfortable their coffins are.” He made a brief pause. “He also asked me to offer you to test the comfortability of one of my coffins. He said you might have a thing for playing with death.”

Oliver looked at the coffins intently, wondering what exactly this was supposed to mean. Was it just a little joke Tockman was making or was there some deeper meaning to it? Was it maybe a wrong trace to follow?

Pressing his lips together tightly, Oliver sucked in a deep breath. He would need to know what was on the USB drive and also have the whole effort of the team to help him put the pieces together.

“Not tonight,” he said and tightened his fingers around the USB drive, “but thank you for your offer and for everything.”

With that, he turned around and left the house, hoping that these next clues were helping him to find out more.

 → → → → →

 Thirty-eight hours and less than fifty minutes were left by the time that Oliver arrived back in the bunker. The moment he stepped into the dark, he lifted the USB drive.

“I have something.”

Everyone, including Bruce who was sitting in Felicity’s chair, his fingers dancing over the keyboard as quickly as Felicity’s usually did, turned around to him. Oliver wondered briefly if he should be surprised that Bruce was here already. A flight from Gotham took a lot longer than two hours. With how crazy the world they were living in could be, Oliver was sure that he had found a way to make this work though.

“I will check that,” Bruce said and lifted a hand to catch the USB drive when Oliver threw it in his direction, “and meanwhile you will tell me the entire story from the beginning. I need to know everything. Every little detail. Maybe there is something you missed or something you- I don’t know. Maybe there is just something.”

Oliver nodded his head. He grabbed the tablet he had found in his private box and pushed the button to see Felicity. She threw her head to the side, a sob falling from her lips. Oliver couldn’t hear it, but the sound echoed through his head nonetheless. And it broke his heart.

“Oliver.”

Bruce’s harsh voice made Oliver hug the tablet to his chest before he looked at the one man who loved Felicity as much as he himself did. He wasn’t looking back at him though. Instead, his eyes were glued to the monitor as he was already trying to find out what exactly was saved on the USB-drive.

“Felicity took Tockman down a couple of years ago, using his own tech against him,” Oliver explained, his voice almost sounding numb as he lowered his eyes back to the tablet and the footage of Felicity he was receiving, “and he has been in prison for the last years. He broke out during the latest earthquake. Now he is holding Felicity captive and wants me to find her. He gave me forty-eight hours and even sent me a countdown, to make sure I know the exact time I have left. He said it was like some kind of game, and he set up some rules. The most important one is that I should find her alone. He says there will be consequences if I break any of the rules.”

“Then why did you call your team?”

From the corner of his eye, he could see Thea already taking in a breath to tell Bruce that Oliver had made the right call, but Oliver shook his head quickly. Bruce was still where Oliver had been a couple of years ago. He doubted people more than he trusted them, and when it came down to it, he would always decide to trust only himself over anyone else.

“Because I know it’s what Felicity would have wanted me to do,” Oliver explained, pushing the button to see Felicity once more, “because she knows that doing things alone never leads to the same success as trusting your friends. She was the one who convinced me that a team was what this city and what I would need for my wellbeing. She would want the team to be involved in here.”

“You should have called me and only me.”

Bruce’s voice was low, but Oliver could still hear the anger in it. There was nothing Oliver could possibly say to convince Bruce otherwise. He wasn’t ready to trust people in situations of crisis, and this was certainly one of the worst situations for Bruce given how much Felicity meant to him.

Who knew. Maybe Bruce was right, and Oliver should have just contacted Bruce. He could have easily erased all traces of their contact. Bruce had the skills necessary for that. It might have been the safer option, but they would certainly need a bumper between them eventually.

Tapping onto the little button of the tablet, Oliver lowered his eyes. For the first time, Felicity hadn’t slapped her hands in front of her face protectively. Still, she looked anything but happy or content with the way things were. Felicity looked exhausted. There were dark rings under her eyes that she had squeezed shut to protect them from the light. Her lips were dry, her skin pale.

Who knew what she was going through right now? She didn’t have much room which scared her as Oliver knew although it had become better. Did she have something to drink? Something to eat? Was she comfortable?

The dead are always trying to convince me how comfortable their coffins are.

As soon as the display went black, Oliver pushed the button once more. He needed to see Felicity alive. Who knew what was done to her when he couldn’t see her?

“Stop pushing that damn button. It hurts Felicity.”

Bruce’s harsh voice made Oliver lift his gaze and frown at him. Still, Bruce wasn’t looking back at him. He continued working on the computers, trying to figure out what clues the USB-drive were holding.

Oliver wanted to ask him how he knew that Felicity was being hurt, but deep down he already knew that Bruce was right. The glaring light was shining right into her face, probably blinding her as much as the reports’ flashlights always hurt Oliver. Given how close the light seemed to be to her face, it had to be even worse.

Sucking in a deep breath to breathe against the pain, Oliver put the tablet again and stepped behind Bruce.

“How is it going?”

“Give me a couple more minutes, and we will know what’s on the USB-drive. It’s encrypted well, but certainly not well enough. He encrypted this for you, not for me.”

Oliver didn’t doubt that.

“I have something to work on for the rest of you,” Oliver said, crossing his arms in front of his chest and turning around to the rest of the team, “because the mortician I have been to has delivered a message from Tockman. He said The dead are always trying to convince me how comfortable their coffins are. We need to find out what that means.”

While the others left the platform to discuss exactly that, Oliver stayed back with Bruce. He glanced towards the tablet again and again. His fingers were twitching with the urge to reach out for it, but Oliver didn’t dare to. He knew Bruce was right with his estimation. Felicity was only getting hurt through it.

Oliver just didn’t know what else he should do, and he hated not doing anything. It drove him crazy and-

“Got it.”

Immediately, Oliver was back behind Bruce. He looked over his shoulder at the monitor, trying to understand anything of the many numbers there.

“What is it?” he asked urgently. “Any new clue?”

“It’s a program for audio transmitting.”

Oliver frowned. “He sent me another message?”

“No, I think it’s the missing audio for the video footage of Felicity. The line is safe, so even if Tockman has access to the line, he can’t hear you know. It’s blocked.”

Oliver felt his heart skipping a beat before it started racing in his chest. He needed to talk to Felicity. He needed to assure her that he was going to find her. She probably knew that already because she had so much faith in him, but he wanted to tell her nonetheless.

Bruce pulled the USB-drive from the slot in the computer and held it out to Oliver. The expression in his eyes was so intense that Oliver barely dared to take the USB-drive from him. He could just see in Bruce’s eyes that he would love to keep it to himself. He needed to talk to Felicity as much as Oliver did, but he knew that this was a privilege that was all Oliver’s. At least for now.

“Tell Felicity that I am here and that we will find her.”

Nodding his head, Oliver took the USB-drive from him and whispered, “I will. And we will.”

While Oliver put the USB-drive to the tablet, Bruce left Felicity work station. Oliver sat back on the edge of the table and sucked in another deep breath. Closing his eyes, he cradled the tablet to his chest for a moment.

He knew that he had to get a hold on himself. Only if he had a hold on himself, he could be calm enough and assuring enough to make sure that Felicity believed him. He needed to be calm if he wanted to calm her down, and he wanted to calm her down. He wanted her to spend the next hours of her life, afraid that she was going to die in that cold hole she was captured in. He was going to find her, and he was going to hold her for hours until she was going to be okay eventually. Until they both were.

Breathing out slowly, Oliver brushed his thumb against the small button on the display.

“Felicity?”

 → → → → →

 “You’re still the one I run to / The one that I belong to.”

Felicity hadn’t been surprised when that song had come to her mind. It was kind of her and Oliver’s song although they had only chosen it rather lately. Oliver had woken up after a nightmare, and they had danced to that song in their bedroom. Listening to the lyrics, they had decided that it was their song.

“You’re still the one I want for life / You’re still the one that I love / The only one I dream of / You’re still the one I kiss goodnight / Ain’t nothing better.”

After everything they had been through together and despite the uncertainty of what else they would have to go through in the future, they had known that they would always be the one for each other. There would never be anyone else because nobody could possibly understand them as well as they understood each other.

“You’re still the one I want for life / You’re still the one that I love / The only one I dream of / You’re still the one I kiss goodnight.”

Although she had told Oliver that she was going to take care of everything, she was sure that he had set up everything romantically, so they could fully enjoy the evening together. This song had probably been played on repeat for hours already, and he would have still insisted on continuing to listen to it.

Oliver was a giant sap, no matter how much he tried to hide it from anyone but her. He was her giant sap, and she wouldn’t want it any other way.

“Ain’t nothing better / We beat the odds together / I’m glad we didn’t listen / Look at that we would be missin’.”

God, they would both miss so much if they hadn’t given into their feelings. They were both happier than they had ever been in their lives. Without each other, everything in their lives would be different. Maybe they’d still be happy, but their lives wouldn’t be full.

Felicity squeezed her eyes shut, feeling a single tear running down her cheek.

She might not see or speak to Oliver again. She could never tell him how much he had enriched her life and how much happiness and stability he had brought into it. She could never tell him how much she really loved him.

Maybe he knew it already, he probably did, but she needed to tell him again. She needed it to be the last thing she told him. Otherwise, she would never be sure.

There were always so much things more that she needed to tell him. There were things that he needed to tell their kids. She needed them to know some things, things she had thought she could tell them later on. Since there wasn’t necessarily a later on, she might have to tell Oliver to tell them one day and-

The glaring light was switched on once more. The heat seemed to drill itself into her skin. It hurt everywhere, feeling like a fire being held close to her face.

“Felicity?”

A sob that had been sticking in her throat the entire time since she had woken up in this little cage or whatever she was in.

“Oliver.”

She didn’t have to ask. She’d recognize his voice in a pool of a thousand voices. Even through his voice modulator she’d be able to recognize him by now. She just knew him so well, and she’d recognize him through every costume he could possibly put on.

“Hey.”

His voice was soft, but Felicity could hear the tears in his voice, and it made tears streaming down her face now too. Although she had been and still was so sure that Oliver would find her eventually, she was scared about being locked into this tiny thing in the dark. All of this was so very scary, and that made her weak.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he said quickly, his voice still lowered to a whisper, “don’t cry. I will find you, okay? I don’t know where you are yet, but I will find you and-“

“Oliver.”

His name fell from her lips in a sob. For the break of a second, she felt all those words she had been thinking about for the past minute threatening to fall from her lips. She knew that those words would be a goodbye and a sign that she didn’t believe Oliver would find her eventually, and that wouldn’t be fair. Oliver would try everything he could to find her. No matter how much it took.

“I will find you,” Oliver repeated, his voice more convincing now, “we will find you.”

“You called the team.”

A sigh of relief fell from her lips, not because she doubted that he couldn’t find her on his own, but because she knew that it must have taken a lot from him to trust anyone with what had happened. What exactly had happened though?

“Yes, I called them,” Oliver told her, “although Tockman told me not to.”

“It was the right choice.”

“I know you’d say this.” Oliver sighed. “Which is why I called them and Bruce. Together, we are a good team. We will find you. I promise you.”

“I know,” Felicity whispered closing her eyes once more, “I know you will find me.”

She really knew. Whatever thoughts she had had before had just been symptoms of how bad she felt locked up in this dark. Now that she could hear Oliver’s voice, those thoughts felt completely irrelevant because Oliver was going to find her, no matter what her dark thoughts were trying to tell her.

Everything was going to be okay. She knew that now more than ever. She was going to be back with Oliver and her kids soon because he would save her. She knew he would.

“Are you okay?” Oliver added eventually. “Did Tockman hurt you?”

“No.” Felicity shook her head and took in a sniffling breath. She quickly wiped away the tears from her cheeks. “He just took me and took me out. When I woke up, I was caged into a small, dark thing. I have no idea where I am.”

“I know,” Oliver whispered soothingly, “I can see you.”

Felicity frowned. “How?”

“There has to be a camera in there. Tockman sent me a tablet with the video footage, and we managed to unlock the audio just now. We can talk now.”

“Good.” Felicity nodded slowly. “So, it’s you who can switch on the light in here?”

“Yes, but I am trying to avoid it. I know it’s not pleasant and-“

“No, I- It’s a lot easier to bear it now that I know you are the one looking at me and not him.”

She imagined Tockman to sit behind his computers and watch her. He wanted her to suffer, but Felicity was sure that knowing she suffered alone wasn’t enough. He needed to see her. He needed to see how much she was suffering.

Although the light still prickled on her skin unpleasantly, at least now Felicity knew that it was Oliver thinking about her. She could imagine looking into his deep blue eyes and seeing his soft smile on his lips. It would comfort her in this cold and lonely darkness.

Closing her eyes, Felicity took some deep breaths and imagined right that. She felt her heartbeat slowing down immediately. Some of the panic that had spread in her veins in the last minutes or hours or days since she had been locked in here – there was no way she could keep a track of time here – faded. Oliver and the team would find her. Easily.

“Are you okay?”

“I am going to be,” Felicity promised, “how long have I been away yet?”

“Almost eleven hours since Tockman called me.”

Was that long or short? Felicity wasn’t sure.

“I have thirty-seven hours left to find you, but don’t worry. We have traces. We will-“

“I know,” Felicity whispered, “I know you will find me. I trust you, and I love you.”

“I love you too. So much.”

Felicity smiled softly, feeling his words wrap her into some gentle warmth that seemed to fill her from the inside as much as it covered her from the outside.

Everything was going to be okay. She just had to hold on for some hours more.

* * *

@fannaz​ @promiseyoullbepatientwithme​ @bytemegeekette​ @felicity-said-just-in-case​ @phanseptiic​ @orangeisorange​ @mspotatohead14​ @whentheheavenfades​ @emmaamelia95​ @smoakingskye​ @seaolicity​ @ourwritinginvein​ @1022bridgetp @felicityqueenforever​ @leagueofolicity17 @yryssss​ @myhauntedblacksoul​ @sherlock44​ @sinceriouslybea​ @olivyflavescentdeer​ @olicitys-castle​ @ofnothingcharming​ @vaelisamaza​ @smoakedandcharmed​ @alexisa1206​ @florence-bubbles​ @addictiontelly​ @queens-of-arrows-blog​ @memcjo​ @hysterical-for-joshifer-blog​ @oswinelevenforever​ @olicitylovemaking @bandanab310​ @mymusiclove101​ @lynslogic​ @scarletqueen23​ @olicityshipper19-blog​ @alex-wesley​ @arrows-4ever​ @unabashedlynerdypatrol​ @louehmysoul​ @ligiapimenta​ @chattyyana​ @charlie-leau​ @coal000​ @samcrowleys​ @ishippolivia​ @julianegomesqueen @malafle​ @miriam1779​ @charlinert​ @melaux​ @ontheolicityship​ @myshipperlife​ @wrightainsley @lexi9515​ @ladygreenwood​ @multi-fandom-crazy-fangirl​ @morinamel​ @mje-thomas​ @kebarry​ @canadianheartgirl​ @nannett2307​ @almondblossomme​ @kathrynelizabeth89​ @imdfabulous​ @mrt2501​ @arsipaci14​ @salasvia​ @brandis91​ @cainc3​ @morganmiguess @pr0fessi0nal-fangurl​ @iamisalima​ @nessafraan-blog​ @jonhdiggle​ @niki-is-amazing​ @universed-posts @hopeful-warrior​ @senoritaswiftie​ @bellemmie​ @green-arrows-of-karamel​ @iheartarrow​ @olicityovereverything​ @oliverfel4​ @olicity-in-the-heart​ @fullychippedcreation​ @geemarie​ @everything-but-normal-cat @myarroworld​ @tjmartinez​ @pleasantfanandstudent @j69confessional2​ @scentedcolorpirate​ @icanica74​ @tjmartinez98​ @certainmentalityface​ @tatianadamaceno @ryelew​ @wildwillowzepplin​ @missafairy​ @letsplaymurde-r​ @lipizette​ @positivepiper​ @nuttymilkshakehologram​ @laksagirl-blog​ @turnupthemusicandscream​ @pumpernickle93​ @onceuponanolicity​ @1106angel​ @jaspertown​ @fadinglands​ @morganashimi83​ @mochababychristy​ @omglovechrissie​ @mariejr88-blog​ @thetaufactor​ @onceuponanolicity​ @speakandseethetruth​ @bri206​ @aglasgo​ @geemarie​ @pineprincess​ @nerdgirljen​ @eternal-olicity14​ @allyouhadtodowas-stay-stay-stay​ @lovelycssefan​ @tsseract​ @flowerandsunshine​ @dcnmarvelgamergeek​ @blondeeoneexox @monetsmark​ @bb-olicity​ @mashamarty​ @rulerofsilence​ @erika-amber​ @nothingmorethanmyotps​ @kayleenyc​ @tonto16 @olicityfluv​ @olicitea1990 @haahaaa2408​ @pattid1​ @faegal04​ @24karatgem​ @wrldtravler​ @readerkas​ @olicity-beliver​ @greencoffeecups​ @snorlaxishere​ @sonothappening118

(If you want to be tagged or untagged, just let me know. :))

[madsinartime]

thoughts about tfatws

aka cacw (2021) ;)

this will be kinda long, so more under the cut!

Sam and Bucky

i love their relationship. whether you ship them or see them as bros this show gives you everything you could want. sam and bucky’s character and relationship development are the best parts of the show. sam learns to overcome his insecurities and pick up the shield, bucky learns to forgive himself and move on from the winter soldier. although to be honest, who let the fanfic writers into marvel? the couples’ therapy scene and rolling in the flower field are straight (not) out of ao3.

sam wilson IS captain america. i hope that in future movies he’ll continue to be political and an activist, not just focus on all the avenger threats and forget about the stuff that continues to happen on the ground. sam’s a guy who follows through. let’s see him at marches, rallies, campaigning for something better. the show was a step up in representation about different perspectives than the usual mcu stuff and i hope they continue with that.

bucky! him living with the wilsons’ is canon now. i love that he’s finally got his happy ending :) i hope he’ll be in black panther, at least a lil cameo! i think he is great friends with t’challa shuri and all the dora milaje! maybe a bit of how he became known as white wolf? or earning the title? he definitely trained with the dora, rmb how he threw that pole like a spear :D

Zemo

i kinda like zemo as a character now. he’s definitely still a terrible person but hey. he’s a fun guy. he even got the last laugh with orchestrating blowing up the rest of the super soldiers from prison. i wonder what he’ll do about john walker? US agent is definitely the guy zemo hates. would be a cool subplot in a future movie/show.

Sharon Carter

this is such a step up for her from winter soldier and civil war! she’s a badass shield special agent and it really showed. her fight scene in the shipyard is one of my favourite. making her a villain? i mean i kinda get why she’ll be so jaded from being on the run for years. there are some theories where she’s like a skrull,, but idk. the part where she’s the power broker seemed a bit ?? at first, but here’s what i think:

sharon didn’t get blipped. it was shown in endgame but she could have disappeared and so everyone assumed she was dusted. 5 years seems a bit short to build a criminal empire, plus zemo had heard of the power broker and he was in jail the whole time. in those 5 years maybe the original power broker got blipped, and in the power vacuum (lol) sharon took over. makes sense why zemo would think the power broker was a dude. after everyone returned maybe sharon killed the power broker for real or he’s out there hiding and we’ll see the two go at each other. that could be fun to see. as for leading sam bucky and zemo to dr nagle, sharon was playing the long game. nagle maybe was upset with her/not doing so well and she wanted to get rid of him so no one else could get the formula. or she’s already compiled his notes and decided he was a liability. leading the gang to dr nagle and defending them against the bounty hunters (remember someone had to know and send out the message after killing selby) would put her in sam’s good graces and he would get her pardoned, then she could operate outside of madripoor (maybe getting away from the original power broker). anyway i think it would be cool to see what she gets up to in the future.

The Flag Smashers

hmmm. i liked them at the start of the show. karli was young and radicalised by the life after the blip, and she wanted a better life. which is great. i know the flag smashers’ plot was a bit messed up by the pandemic and the had to rewrite some stuff, and the writer’s did a good job considering. still, i dislike how the entire flag smashers became villainized by just karli’s extreme actions. i think that she could’ve had better character development, like john walker’s, where she was out to do good and then because of the serum she became too extreme and spiraled. the first time people get killed is because of an accident. also at the end the whole thing seemed driven by karli, and rest of them were like uhh what are u doing girl. could have been better, but alright, i guess.

in future movies, i hope that we’ll see the flag smashers again. remember they were a global network (with parallels to hydra, which is like, not cool, marvel) with supporters all over the world. just because the leaders were killed off doesn’t mean the movement would stop. 

John Walker

marvel’s stepping up with their villain game, which is awesome. john’s negative character development was great and quite believable, considering the way the american government treats its veterans. john likely has trauma and ptsd and a whole host of other stuff that led to his going crazy, all amplified by the serum. he’s a really good example of ‘the road to hell is paved with good intentions’. he does want to be a good person, like him saving the truck instead of going after karli showed, but that doesn’t fully redeem him. let your villains be villains marvel. let him go off, azula style. (not sure marvel is the type to let that happen, but it would be awesome to explore john’s psyche like that.)

Lemar Hoskins

*sigh* i feel like marvel let us down with this one. all the progressiveness in this show and they had to kill off the black sidekick to further the white man’s character arc. come on. i have Thoughts about this. see, this could have been an amazing opportunity to explore lemar and john’s characters. john’s spiral off the deep end, lemar having to reconcile his best friend with this guy, who is nothing like the great man he once knew. everone thinks that john is irredeemable, lemar keeps trying to get him to therapy. john goes crazy from the serum, lemar having to fight against his brother. lemar goes to bucky and asks for help, because he thinks it’s like what happened with the winter soldier thing. bucky learns to help someone he disliked because he too can see the similarities and that john does need help. in the end, john goes full evil and has to be taken down by his best friend. the parallels this would have had with the steve/bucky relationship, yall. 

lol if u got this far, congrats and thanks for reading my rambles :D just out here Thinking my Thoughts

[dawdlingbiscuit]

Liz(zington) ‘explained’....by Liz Keen

Just a little part of a fic I wrote in 2013 about the laws of attraction. Based on what we were shown so far, mixed in with some amateur psychology. For me things could have gone either way: it was the enigma that kept me watching and I’ll probably continue through s 9. But please.....let that be the last season: it’s getting way to complicated to keep up....

__________________________

Extract from: The Bad Seed

“Is that what you would like to hear?”  Liz asked, voice perfectly calm and under control. “That I hate you?”

With a spark of renewed interest, Reddington tore himself away from his favorite view to meet her piercing, penetrating gaze.

“The truth will do.”

“Like the truths you have been dishing out, to scare me off with your little games?

“You’re still here aren’t you?” He actually seemed surprised she was, but pleased nonetheless, her cheeks a little rosier, a new gleam dancing in her eyes.

“Your cruel games don’t just make feelings go away, Red. Yes, I am attracted to you and you should have taken into account the human factor before you started all this. It’s entirely your own fault.”

She ignored his indignant little laugh and grabbed the bottle from the table, popped the cork and poured herself some more liquid courage.

“Do you have any idea what you have done to me?” she asked, looking hard at him, trying to find the words to vocalize the jumble of feelings inside her. The grey eyes glittered back in a do tell-expression. “You come into my life and change everything I have ever lived for. You ruin my marriage…”

"I thought we had just established that you are the only one who can claim responsibility for that particular issue.” he cut her off, voice drier than Frederick’s brew, but she did not bite.

“You ruin my relationship with Tom, tell me all sorts of vague stories about my past, act as if you know me, make me a partner in your grand scheme to bring down the baddies of this world …… do you have any idea what this is doing to me?”

“I’m sorry Lizzy, I am doing this for a reason.”  A genuine apology. ”Please bear with me.”

She took a moment to control her temper which threatened to suffocate the words in her throat - resisted the urge to calm her nerves with more liquor. His placid tone of voice was infuriating. If he told her one more time to exert due diligence then she would strangle him with his Borelli tie.

“You are making it very hard for me to accept you as my guardian angel. Keeping me safe from harm? You have a funny understanding of this task, because since you came into my life, I’ve been shot at, beaten, tortured, nearly executed by your dear old friend Garrick, got thrown out of a moving ambulance and the prospect of disappearing from the face of the earth in a bathtub full of smelly chemicals really tops my list of all time favorites. And you have the nerve to tell me I can trust you and you will keep me safe?”

“I already humbly admitted to you and dear old Harold, that I am not perfect, Lizzy. I do try.”

“If you’re trying to ruin my life I must admit that you are doing one hell of a job.”

“I am not trying to ruin your life, although it may seem so to you. Please trust me when I say this.”

She glanced at his tie, toyed with her glass to calm down and continued with less of a cutting edge than he expected.

“Red, did you realize when you started all this that I would either hate you with a passion or fall in love with you?”

From the look on his face she concluded that he clearly hadn’t.

“You're all I have left.” There was nothing as powerful as the plain and simple truth.  “Sam is dead, my husband gone, my co-workers don’t trust me and Ressler probably thinks I’m sleeping with you. The only one I can rely on is you and you are the most unreliable person I have ever met.”

He seemed to take that as a compliment, but his expression changed when he saw that she was genuinely affected. He filled his glass with another four fingers and listened patiently, her words sobering him up, despite the refill that burned in his throat. Her tone was light and deceptive, camouflaging the tension building up inside from all the emotions she had suppressed in the last few months.

“Byronic bad boy, Svengali, Rasputin or whatever label you want to use, you’re it. And you are surprised that the object of your affection is attracted to you? When you keep looking at me in that funny way, putting me on a pedestal like I'm some sort of Joan of Arc with an FBI badge? What kind of effect did you think it would have on me when a man like you, legendary and larger than life, charismatic, enigmatic, dangerous and handsome, tells me with that weird look in his eyes that I am so very special to him? So special even, that he is willing to give his life for me at the drop of a hat.”

“I wasn’t aware I tend to look at you in a funny way. I’ll try to refrain from that in future.”

With another apologetic smile around his lips, he put down his drink and turned to her on the couch to give her his full attention. They had passed the joking stage.

“We both know what is going on, Lizzy.” He said, thoughtfully, picking his way carefully. Liz was being unusually frank with him and he suspected that the alcohol was only partly to blame. ” Don’t fall in love with a non existing dark secret, the flaws that make me human, my past that will undoubtedly explain why I do the bad things I do. Don’t try to heal me. I am not like that, Lizzy. I am a criminal. When all this is over, it will not be revealed that I am a heroic country loving spy who has been working undercover for over twenty years, sacrificing himself for God and country. I am not Robin Hood; I am in this business for me, myself and I alone. No heroics, no hidden agenda, I am what I have become; a criminal and I will never change into the man you would like me to be.”

“I know you are a criminal. “Liz said and threw his own words right back at him.”Criminals are notorious liars and you Red, are the epitome of all liars.”

“Well, liar or not, believe me when I say that I had never anticipated that you would fall in love with me.”

It suddenly felt weird having this conversation with him, yet there was no stopping now. It wasn’t that simple. Nothing about Raymond Reddington ever was.

“Let me enlighten you about human nature, Red – give you a tour of my psyche. When someone lifts you up, makes you feel special and constantly feeds you with little pieces of the puzzle of your life, little tidbits to keep you hooked: it creates a need. A need for more. Not just more of the same, because with that need comes greed and you want it all. It is as addictive as a drug and the craving for more makes me an addict: it is all I have left to live for and I keep running back to you for more.”

The words spoken gently but deliberate, washed over Red and for the umpteenth time he regretted his decision to involve Elizabeth Keen in his life.

“I didn’t fall in love with you, Red, because I don’t even know you. I am attracted to you. I need you. There’s a difference. Love has nothing to do with it. And it’s not the reason why you are creating this distance, not the reason for warning me off. It’s not me that is the problem here; it’s you.”

There it was again - the sudden flicker of pain in his eyes, giving him away. She was on the right track.

He put down his drink and stood. Until this moment it had all been a game, a little exciting, a little dangerous; but Reddington did not permit himself many potentially risky games with this particular player. She was too important. And he was no longer in control.

“It’s late.” he said in a tone that clearly indicated that the conversation was over. “We both had more than our share of drinks. I’ll wake up Demby so he can drive you home.”

She looked up at him, her shrewd gaze appraising him. She had crossed the line in the sand and he was annoyed with himself that he didn’t see it coming.

[blarrghe]

“Wrapping arms around them when they make breakfast” Dorian x Anders, because I imagine Dorian has NEVER had a lover make him breakfast before (and Anders probably as a cat-shaped waffle iron)

Ok, as much as I love “his boyfriend makes him breakfast and it breaks Dorian” I also like, JUST did that over in my pavellan fic. It was very sweet and all, but consider: neither of these men are functional adults so who the hell is making breakfast? Still, got Anders his waffles. Anyway this directly sequels the last one again, because I’m using prompts to generate this story now I guess, and I’m really invested in this slow burn friends-to-lovers angsty mess now, so this got super long. I’m gonna start posting this as a series on AO3 I think -- also taking title suggestions XD. Thanks for dragging me into this hell :’) Here’s Breakfast:

He told himself that he was just coming along to keep an eye on him. A designated driver of sorts, just one without a car, or driver’s license, for that matter. He showed Dorian to the bar across the street and ordered himself a glass of water while Dorian asked for “the worst swill you have", with a rather large tip slapped on the bartop. He was handed something astringent smelling in a foggy glass, downed it in one quick backwards toss of his head — arching his neck, snapping back again with a shudder — and then he asked to have the bottle. 

Dorian took two more shots before he spoke. “Did you know that there was an author, horror novelist, whose mother disapproved so wholly of her marriage that after she died, she and her husband took their revenge by having sex right on her grave?” 

So. This was going to be an interesting evening. “I did know that, actually.” Anders said. 

“I’m rather a fan of hers, of her work, I mean.” he took another shot, “and of her misbehaviours. Only, do you think it would be too gouache, seeing as it’s already been done?”

Anders coughed. “Because if it hadn’t been, it wouldn’t be?” 

Dorian shrugged, and took a fourth shot. Maker, he’d finish the bottle within half an hour, at this rate. 

“I’m a fan of hers too,” Anders attempted to steer the conversation into something somewhat more...appropriate, “of her work.” He was also a fan of the story, but maybe not at this particular moment. 

“Oh?” 

Anders took a sip of his water, and signalled to the bartender to put a water glass in front of Dorian, too. “I tend to enjoy stories about misunderstood monsters,” he shrugged. 

“Me too.” Dorian ignored the water glass in favour of shot number five. “Of course, she was married to a like-minded soul, I’d have to find myself a willing participant.” 

“Strange thing to put into your dating app profile,” Anders agreed. Dark humour came easy — though he wasn’t entirely sure it was a good idea.  

“Mm. Man seeking man to fuck on father’s grave, must be willing to break cemetary locks and city bylaws. Risk of haunting, serious inquiries only.” 

Anders tried to stifle his laugh. Man seeking man, though. No. Nope. Very terrible idea. 

“I don’t suppose you’d be game?” 

Anders coughed again, his cheeks flaring up, and shook his head. “I — uh — I think that must be against...one of my oaths.” he stuttered, still flushing. 

Dorian took yet another shot, which made six. What in the world was he made of? "Yes I suppose it must be. Or should be, at any rate." His cheeks were a bit flushed too, even in the dim light, but just from the alcohol; evidently the man had no concept of shame, because next he said, "well, it was worth a shot." 

Speaking of shots. "Water," Anders instructed, moving the water glass closer to Dorian, "you should drink some water." 

"Yes doctor." Dorian obliged, taking the glass to his mouth but raking his eyes up and down Anders as he drank down the entire thing. Anders just kept on blushing. 

"I take it you and your father didn't get along?" It probably wasn't the right question to ask the recently bereaved, but he'd nearly failed that psych 101 course he'd taken in first year, and it was a step away from morbid propositions. Void, where was Merrill when he needed her? 

"You met him, didn't you?" Dorian raised an eyebrow, and with quickly failing coordination, poured himself one more shot, while spilling enough to fill another over the bartop. Anders grabbed a napkin, while Dorian threw his shot back without seeming to notice. "My father hated me." He said, once he'd swallowed. 

Tear soaked apologies and an alcohol soaked "celebration" of his death. Anders felt something in the pit of his stomach plummet that was quite removed from the growing pangs of hunger his measly lunch — a granola bar five hours ago — had left him with. 

"I'm sure he didn't —" Dorian stopped him with an ice cold look, intimidating even as he swayed in his seat. Anders frowned, there had been something in that psych course about not sharing your own traumatic experiences with a patient, even if they were relatable. Muddies the waters of who's caretaking who, or gives them ideas, or makes you look crazy too, so they lose confidence, but — "mine did, too." He gave Dorian's arm a tentative pat, and waved the bartender down for a refill of water. Dorian drank it without prompting this time, but his eyes watched Anders again, waiting for more. "Or he must've, got rid of me quick enough." 

"Ah," Dorian leaned back, a little too far, Anders tensed to catch him in case he started to fall, "then I'm an ass. Sorry." 

"No, you're —" Dorian swayed back forward with a bit of a jolt, like he'd forgotten how to stop and needed to grip the bartop to keep level. He reached for the bottle again, and Anders shot a hand out to grab it first. Their hands met, Dorian's falling on top of his over the bottle, and then in an instant Dorian's flew away again. "You're drunk." Anders said. 

"Yes," Dorian agreed, "marvelous." He went back to the water, then cast Anders' hand, still on the bottle, a hopeful look. "Though not to the point where I won't remember any of this miserable day, yet." 

Anders raised an eyebrow, and kept his hand on the bottle. 

"Not that I'm saying I wish to forget you," Dorian's eyes were pleading with him, glossy as they were, "you've been rather kind, really, it's just…" when Anders still didn't release the bottle, he groaned. Then he straightened out his face again, a mask of sensibility that was barely holding: "I'm afraid you aren't seeing me at my best, doctor Anders." 

"Just Anders." Maker, but the sadness behind it all was killing him. You're heart's too soft, Anders, he scolded himself. 

"Anders, then. Quite the name." 

"More a point of origin." Anders explained with a shrug. 

"Yes, the hair rather gives you away. And the complexion." He reached out and slipped two of his long fingers through a strand of Anders' strawberry hair, which was falling in a straggled mess about his temples. Anders flinched, pulling his head back, and Dorian frowned apologetically. "Pretty. You're very pretty." He said. Anders shook his head and rolled his eyes — the man was drunk — but blushed again. 

"It's what the circle gave me," Anders explained the name with another shrug. He wasnt entirely sure why he was volunteering so much personal information to this perfect stranger. Perhaps he felt it was owed, after witnessing the death of the man's father, and all he'd overheard. Or maybe it was those eyes...

"Oh." Another apologetic frown, "and you ran away to Tevinter? Well, you wouldn't be the first." Anders nodded. "Where from?" 

Anders chuckled dryly, "Kirkwall, most recently." 

"Oof." Dorian grunted a drunken sound of disgust, and Anders chuckled again, "how in the world do you manage not to drink?" 

Anders’ laugh grew stronger, he shook his head and took another sip of his water, while Dorian redirected his attention once more to the bottle still protected by his hand, as though just now remembering his plight. "One more, I promise I'll be good." He begged. 

"Speaking as a doctor, I think you've had enough." 

"I thought you were off duty." 

"You're going to make yourself sick." 

"Then it's lucky I'm with a doctor." 

Anders sighed, and poured him one more slightly scant shot. Dorian frowned at the way the alcohol didn't reach the rim of the glass, but threw it back with a grateful sigh. 

“Can I call you a cab, Dorian?” Anders offered, watching worriedly as Dorian gave his head a dramatic shake and swayed a little more back and forth. The bar was emptying out, and last call was coming upon them. He cast a glance at the old watch ticking away on his wrist, mentally calculating how long it would be until he could be at home, in his bed. Not that he minded keeping the miserable man company, quite the opposite, despite everything. He had a pull to him Anders couldn’t quite explain; the eyes again, probably. But the bus came once an hour at this time of night, and didn’t stop at the closer stop, just the well-lit main hub that lay several blocks from his apartment — another fifteen minutes of walking after he got off, so a good hour or more to get home, altogether, if he left now. 

“Is it that time already?” Dorian sounded disappointed, spinning the empty shot glass around on the bar, then with a sudden spark of concern in his eyes he turned his face to Anders, “I’ve kept you too long, haven’t I? How dreadfully selfish of me, I —” he was sputtering a rather pitiful apology, and Anders’ stomach fell again at the sight of it. 

“It’s alright,” he said gently, muscle memory finding the soft smile he used for giving bad news to patients, “your father died today, you don’t have to apologize to me.”

“Yes, father died…” Dorian got a far-off look in those cold eyes of his, and then directed them back at his empty glass, “and you — you had to, I mean, here I am wasting your time when you must be — selfish —”  all at once, his face crumpled, and the guilty muttering gave way to tears. Shit. 

Anders patted his back once, carefully, and Dorian seemed to utterly collapse under his touch, sobbing into the sticky countertop. Anders took a deep breath, and dragged him up again. He tossed a tip of his own onto the bar as the bartender shot them an aggravated look, and hauled Dorian away, draping his arms over his shoulders. Dorian slumped into him, heavy, hunched over, still crying, as Anders pushed through the door of the bar and into the balmy night air, awash with the putrid stench of dumpsters in the alley and the sick coughed up by the bar’s less restrained patrons. It all made him a little homesick. Dorian, hanging halfway off of him, lurched forward like he was about to add his own mess to the stink in the alley, but then he righted himself again, and propped himself up using Anders’ shoulder. Anders took the opportunity to pull out his phone. 

“Where am I sending you?” he asked helpfully. Dorian made another face that seemed to threaten that he was about to be sick. 

“I’m not going back there,” he muttered, less to Anders than to the ground. He wiped at his eyes and sniffed. “Just help me find my car?” 

“You can’t drive.” 

“I’ll sleep in it — I left it in the lot.” 

“No.” 

Dorian pushed himself off of Anders, propelling himself away from his shoulder, and staggered forward a step. Then he seemed to change his mind, or realise he was in no state to walk on his own, and reached an arm out to fall back against the wall of the alley.

“No?” He asked, incredulous as Anders took his arm and draped it back over himself, walking them out of the alley and the stink. 

“I’m not letting you sleep in your car,” Anders shook his head as he dragged the man forward. He was heavier than he looked. Strong, too, if the grip on his shoulder was any indication. “Besides, I can’t risk leaving you in a vehicle, if you did something stupid that would be on me.” 

Dorian snorted, “do you think I’m stupid?” 

“I don’t know you well enough to judge.” Anders answered honestly, which seemed to amuse Dorian. 

“I’m not stupid.” he said, “very, very smart, actually.” he insisted. Anders nodded appreciatively. 

“Alright then, so you see why I can’t just leave you in the hospital parking lot, in your condition.” 

“Mm. Kind of you, but I can think of worse places.” So could Anders, but he shuddered to think what could happen to Dorian if he left him alone like this, drunk and stumbling and wearing the most expensive looking suit he’d ever seen; he’d already flashed his overstuffed wallet far too openly when ordering his drinks inside. “Is there a hotel? I could buy a hotel.” Dorian slurred. 

Anders was fairly certain he’d forgotten a word in his suggestion, but given the suit and the wallet, maybe not. Before Anders could answer, he lurched forward and away from him again, back towards the alley, and into a spasming sort of crouch, retching. 

Anders took an instinctive step back as Dorian gagged and sputtered out a vomit of mostly liquid and bile onto the broken stone of the alleyway, then remembered his physician’s training, and rushed forward to steady him. Between coughs, Dorian swore, and when he finished (miraculously, his suit and shoes were still unharmed), he began to cry again. Anders sighed, and once more feeling a little bit homesick, he breathed out an all too familiar refrain: “well, shit.” he said. 

“Not —” Dorian was stuttering apologetically at him now, “not my best.” He wiped at his tears, swore again, then got up from his crouch and began to stumble forward once more, heading the wrong way down the alley. Anders took him by the shoulders and led him out again. 

“Hotel?” The word smushed out of him with so much drunken misery that Anders felt almost like crying for him, and he sighed again, pulling out his phone. 

“I’m taking you home,” he dialed the number and gave the taxi company their location, then propped Dorian up against the wall of the bar that faced the street, rather than the alley, keeping an eye on his paling face and shaky breathing. 

“What, your home?"  

Anders nodded, “if you choke on your vomit and die in your hotel room, I’ll feel responsible,” he explained as Dorian looked up at him with a perplexed, and dare he say it, even eager look. 

“Very kind of you, doctor Anders.” he said, but before Anders could correct him on the honorific again, he stooped and threw up, so doctor Anders it was. 

——

Dorian all but fell asleep in the taxi, head drooping down into his chest, swaying this way and that as the car rounded the corners, but thankfully he kept from throwing up any more. The luck didn’t hold once they were inside Anders’ apartment though, and soon Anders had him steadied in a kneel over his toilet bowl, getting out the rest of it. Dorian flung most of his clothes off before throwing up this time, wrestling himself out of the suit jacket and tight shirt beneath it, while Anders tried not to be impressed. He had a really remarkable physique, but he was also lurching and coughing miserably into Anders’ toilet, so it was definitely not something to admire. Then he got him onto the couch, set a large bowl on the floor by his head, and coaxed him into one more glass of water before letting him lie down. Dorian offered him another tearful apology, and then tearful thanks, and then he passed out. Anders sat back in a chair across from him for a while, watching as his breathing slowed to a steady rise and fall, ensuring that his head was turned to the side, mouth facing the bowl, in case he was to vomit any more in his sleep, and then he finally, finally, stumbled his own way to bed. 

He woke to the sound of his cupboards banging shut and the kettle screeching to a whistle.

Anders stumbled out into his kitchen to find Dorian standing there with a distraught look on his face, pouring water into two large mugs. He was dressed again, and looking remarkably perfect, actually. Hair all in place and posture all upright once more. The bowl was gone from the floor, too, and nothing smelled off — just a little like tea. 

"How are you feeling?" He asked, suddenly aware of his own shabby pajamas. 

Dorian turned, still looking distraught. "You don't have any food." He complained, "I fed your cat —" Anders looked down to the corner of the kitchen where Ser Pounce's food bowl was, and found Ser Pounce there happily nibbling from a bowl filled to slightly too full, "I hope that's alright. I woke up with him on my chest and he wouldn't stop pawing at that cabinet so I figured…" 

Anders smiled softly, and not in a practiced way, he'd entirely forgotten to check the food bowl when they came in the night before, occupied as he'd been. 

"And then I saw you had a coffee pot, so I was going to make coffee, as a thank you — well, actually, I was going to have some delivered, but I don't rightly know where I am —" Dorian ran a hand through his hair, and he was talking quite speedily, cheeks going just slightly pink "but you don't have coffee. Or anything." 

Now Anders blushed, embarrassed for the nakedness of his cupboards. 

"Anyway, thank you. Tea?" 

Anders nodded, and took the few remaining steps to the counter to grab one of the mugs of still steeping tea; he liked to keep the bag in. He moved from the counter to the couch, cupping the mug with both hands, and sat down. 

"117 Orseck Ave.," he said, "that's where you are. How are you feeling… how much of last night do you remember?" 

"I remember making a fool of myself, if that's what you're asking. And you being uncommonly kind." He paused, "it is Anders, right?" Anders nodded, "is there anything else I should remember, Anders?" 

Anders shook his head, "that about sums it up." 

Dorian chuckled. When he wasn't drunk or crying, it was a nice sound. He leaned against Anders' counter — stunning, how was he stunning after a night like the one he'd just had? "Well, you've certainly wasted enough of your time looking after me, and I can get out of your hair now, but —"  

"— I wouldn't call it a waste of time," Anders interrupted, because something in him always seemed to speak up whenever Dorian went about making statements like that. It kind of had been a waste of his time, Anders tried to protest against that something, he'd lost a great deal of sleep to it, anyway. But somehow the look that his interruption gained him from Dorian was impossible to remain grumpy with. 

"Have you been to Marc's?" Dorian asked suddenly, brightening with a hopeful smile, "since I know where we are now, and its nearby, and you have no food," he went on, "and personally, I'm starving —" 

"I imagine you would be," Anders said, though at the mention of hunger his own stomach took the opportunity to awaken too, noisily. Dorian raised an eyebrow at the sound. 

"Might I buy you breakfast? I feel I owe you that much." 

Anders hadn't been to Marc's. He'd been by it many times, a busy little brunch place, always smelling of bacon and pancakes and with a line out the door. It was a bad idea to say yes to this, he thought, a bad idea to say yes to anything involving absurdly handsome men who just lost their fathers, who were obviously walking disasters waiting to happen (you always had a thing for disasters waiting to happen) — shush. His stomach grumbled again. 

"I haven't been," Anders answered, "there's always a line — and I am on call, I might not have time to —" 

"Oh, we can skip all that." Dorian brushed the protest aside, "so? Don't try to tell me you aren't hungry." 

Anders kicked at a bit of cat hair fluff adorning the edge of his couch, "alright, sure."

Dorian was certainly good at getting him to say yes to things he should know better than to say yes to. If he kept going on like this, the next thing he knew he'd be having sex on his father's grave. 

---- 

They arrived at the restaurant, just a short walk from Anders' building, and yet in a considerably nicer part of town — the new money was creeping in towards his end of things, but where he lived at least was still very much no money — and Dorian walked straight up to the front of the line. Anders hung back, watching skeptically as Dorian performed a series of intricate maneuvers: some charm, a smile, a handshake Anders recognized from Varric — the kind with a bill snuck inside — and then he turned, waving Anders over. 

"We can wait ten minutes for a table, or have our food prepared now and take it outside. Your choice." He smiled. Maker, such a good smile; straight teeth and a brilliantly white gleam. "But you're on call, right? And to be honest with you, the fresh air is making me feel considerably less queasy. Park across the street?" Anders nodded and shrugged at the same time, a gesture that seemed to satisfy Dorian into continuing to take charge of the situation. "Alright then, to go. And fast, if you can. We're both very busy and important." He winked at the young hostess as he was handed two paper menus, and Anders could have sworn she blushed brighter than the checkerboard red on the apron she wore. "What do you fancy?" Dorian asked him, handing over one of the papers. 

It was diner food, but not really. Poached eggs with house-smoked bacon over an heirloom tomato coulis, waffles with Orlesian creme sauce and glazed berries, rare wheat pancakes with apple cinnamon compote and vanilla syrup  — just a few options, all of them coming with a detailed list of decadent flavours. In addition to those few confounding main courses was a fresh juice list filled with exotic fruits Anders had never even heard of, and approximately twenty different kinds of coffee. 

"Uh, waffles?" He said, squinting at the menu, "waffles and coffee?" 

Dorian beamed some more, and took back his menu to point out the waffle dish, as well as several other things, confidently ordering far more food than could possibly be necessary as well as coffee and one of the strange fruit juices while insisting that Anders simply had to try it. The patient employee nodded and hurried away, and not ten minutes later came back with two plastic bags stuffed near splitting with cardboard containers, and a tray of drinks. Dorian thanked her with another winning smile and secretly-funded handshake, and then they were off. 

The park across the street had benches, so they sat on one — finding one in the shade of a great, leafy tree, as even the morning sun was warm. Then, Dorian began a conversation, and the whole thing was far less awkward than Anders had expected. Dorian asked about his work, so Anders described some of it, though he avoided anything too close to topics of death and dying, and Dorian held his gaze while he talked and asked compelling questions. He seemed to be, as claimed, very smart, and the food was practically otherworldly. Then Anders asked Dorian about his work in turn, and Dorian sighed. 

"Well, you're new here, aren't you? How much do you know about Tevinter politics? The intricacies of it all can take a lifetime to wrap one's head around. That's by design; keeps things all tied up with the upper classes who have it in their blood to be intollerable bureaucrats." His air was flippant, but altogether disapproving, which Anders appreciated. 

"I've been here a while now, actually. A couple of years, anyway, I understand it a bit. Political science was always my…'' downfall? "Second passion." He washed down a heaping forkful of creme covered waffles made of pure fairy dust and clouds with whatever exciting fruit drink Dorian had handed him — it tasted like bright green, with a hint of citrus. "I feel people should be informed — active. Healthcare is as political as it is practical." And mage freedom, that was political too, but they didn't have to get into that. Mages were already free in Tevinter. Other kinds of people, however — something bitter bit at the back of his mind. But it was too sunny, and the food too good, for that sort of conversation. 

Dorian nodded approvingly, his eyes lighting up. "Alright then, I'm an Altus. I argue things in circles in the house a lot, these days I've been losing all sorts of friends arguing this Sopperati electorate reformation bill," Anders' eyes widened, impressed. He'd been following the progress of it, a huge step for increased class equality, if it passed. So maybe it was just sunny enough for such a conversation. "but of course it can only go so far without approval from the Magisterium," Dorian went on, a slight growl of frustration colouring his tone, which was appealing in a different way, "and for that we need to convince those with seats in the — in the —'' he stopped, and some of the light fell from his eyes. "I just remembered that my father is dead." He said. Shit. Not a sunny conversation, after all. "His seat passes to me, you see, because nepotism still runs stronger than good sense and he's written my name into all these continuations of his legacy and…" he sighed, and stabbed hard at a piece of brilliantly poached egg, which honestly didn't deserve it, "sorry. It's going to be a very hectic and difficult few weeks, with all the ceremony and paperwork and the whole ordeal of burying him…" he scooped up some of his bleeding egg yolk with a wedge of toast, and went silent in favour of eating, while Anders took an uncomfortable sip of juice that seemed to have lost some of its vividness. "You've been here for years, you said?" Dorian changed the subject, refocusing on Anders. Anders nodded, still awkwardly sucking up juice through the straw of his cup. "I would have sworn you were an escapee fresh from the harbour." 

"Why?" Anders bristled a little. 

"Your apartment. You have no food or furniture," Anders bristled a little more, "and you've never been to Marc's", Anders frowned, furrowing his brow at the impossibly good, impossibly expensive waffles, "and you're too nice." Dorian finished. Anders looked up in surprise, catching Dorian's eye. They were still a bit lost for light, but soft on him. 

"I'm just very busy," Anders shrugged. And very poor, but, well, Dorian probably thought anyone with fewer than a thousand acres of family land was poor, given his status. He didn't need to know the extent of it. 

"Hm," Dorian's eyes were still on him, soft and thoughtful, "what else haven't you done?" Anders shrugged, and Dorian began listing things. Tourist attractions and famed galleries, but also other, lesser-known offerings of the city that Anders had never even heard of. 

"Ferry through the archipelegos?" 

"No." 

"The volcanic sand beaches?"

"No." 

"Dinner at the top of Tidarion Tower?" 

"No." 

And on like that, until he finally said yes to something — taking in a show at the infamous burlesque playhouse in the city's red light district, which elicited an eyebrow raise.

"Priorities, I see." Dorian chuckled, "at least you have good taste." He reached an arm up over Anders' side of the bench, as he finished with his food and slid the box away, very smooth. "I'd have offered to take you. Maybe one of the others sometime, then, if you've a mind." He suggested. Anders could feel his cheeks beginning to run hot again. Still a bad idea, he reminded himself. Apparently sensing his unease, Dorian removed his arm from its perch near Anders' shoulders. "May I say something painfully honest?" he asked. 

Anders swallowed, but he managed a smirk as he replied. "I think we're well past that," he said. 

Dorian shook his head with a dry chuckle, "yes, well. I'm all out of sorts, as you may have noticed." 

Anders chuckled too, but with him, not at. 

"And normally, if I'm to get drunk and go home with a stranger, it all goes a certain way," then he actually winked, which on him was somehow charming and not over the top at all. Anders swallowed again, "and, not that I'm opposed, but, well, as I said: you've been uncommonly kind. I could — I've been losing friends left and right lately, it seems, with this bill, and…" 

"I'm a fan of the bill," Anders said, "in fact I'm not sure it goes far enough." 

The interruption seemed to lend Dorian some more confidence, as though he needed it, "so, pretty as you may be, I could use a, uh —" 

Anders blushed again, but finished for him, "a friend?" He could use one too, if he was being honest. Near everything seemed to be making him homesick, lately. 

Dorian nodded. "If that's not too forward." He said. 

"You fed my cat," Anders replied, "as far as I'm concerned, we're already friends." 

At that, Dorian smiled. He asked Anders his cat's name, and chuckled at the answer, and then they exchanged phone numbers and Anders stuck a little cat next to his own name as he entered it into Dorian's contact screen, which had him laughing even more. Anders offered to put the puking emoji next to Dorian's in return, but he insisted on a snake, because he “had a reputation to uphold”. Then Anders’ pager went off, and he groaned inwardly, wishing he could spend the day in the sun for once. 

“Duty calls?” 

Anders grimaced, and stood up. “Thanks for breakfast,” he said, meaning it. Dorian stood too. 

“You should take the rest — actually, this may be awkard, but I think we’re going the same way.” His car. Of course. 

“You’re going to have a small fortune to pay in parking tickets,” Anders realised, frowning. 

“Oh that’s fine. I have one of those — big, actually.” he winked again, “very big.” Sweet Maker, he just never stopped. 

Dorian insisted on a cab, and then he insisted on paying for it, and then he insisted on Anders taking the rest of their uneaten brunch items to store in the breakroom for his lunch, and then finally he was ready to let him go, with a promise to be in touch. He extended his hand for Anders to shake. Anders took it, holding fast with a sure grip, and then, drawn in yet again by those cool, sad eyes, he pulled Dorian’s arm towards him, and wrapped him up in a tight hug. 

Dorian stumbled back afterwards, cheeks flush, eyes glinting with surprise. “What was that for?” 

“Just seemed like you needed it,” Anders said. 

Dorian was still blushing, and his smile warmed Anders’ own cheeks. “Suppose I did,” he agreed. 

“Take care, Dorian.”

“As you say, doctor.”

[valkyriesryde]

Release the Hounds {12/?}

Chapter 12: Let it Come to Fruition

Pairing: Persephone!Steve Rogers x Hades!Reader

Chapter Summary: in the aftermath of Steve’s decision Hades struggles to keep a lid on her anger.

Word Count: 2,290

A/N: Warning: talk of abuse and angry Hades, I got a break in my uni work and had an epiphany for this part so smashed it out, hope you enjoy! Ngl we’re almost at the end of this piece and I’m straight up sad about it. This is entirely inspired by Get Down from Six and was what inspired me to write this whole story uwu

The harvest will not grow when spring is taken.

Hades stared at the man in front her for a second with her mouth hanging open like the others behind her. For a split second she had to admit she admired him, and then the anger set in. He could see it on her face, she was furious with him and he waited for her to yell at him, to scream at him, to hit him, anything, but she didn’t. 

Hades turned and stormed out but not before telling one of the judges to “clean up this mess s,” and for a second Sam thought she meant Steve until he saw the mess of fruit and pomegranate juice on the table and let out a sigh  of relief. He hated to say that the god of spring was growing on him. 

She stormed into her office and slammed the door shut behind her, her breathing was heavy as she paced the room. She threw books from the bookcases across the room as she grumbled and mumbled about “that idiot godDAMMIT” and kicked her desk chair from behind her desk. Hades stood by the windows, she could feel her heartbeat in every inch of her body, she could practically see red but she wouldn’t act on it, she made a vow she would not retaliate. 

“Hades?” Steve’s voice came from the doorway as he slipped in. Wanda had told him not to, Sam had said it would be best to let her cool down, Pietro said he should see Hecate first but Steve didn’t listen. He waited outside the door until he heard the throwing of objects stop and then waited another beat just to be sure before he walked in and closed the door behind him to find her standing in the centre of the windows, staring down at the gates.

She stayed silent, counting the souls that she could see by the gates, making note of Harley talking with Charon by the river. All just to ease her beating heart and rapid breathing.

“Hades I’m sorry but this was the only thing I could think of to do, she won’t stop, she-“

“Stop it,” her voice was dangerously calm as her eyes followed Harley as he left the Underworld to continue his days work. 

“Just let me explain!” He argued and she spun around to face him. 

“No! No, because I know what your explanation is Steve! I know she hurt you, I know she wants to continue hurting you and I know you’re scared and in danger but that is NOT an EXCUSE!” Her voice rose, she told herself she wouldn’t yell at him and when she saw him flinch she regretted it immediately but she was too angry for rational thought. “You were right, you’re not like other Olympians, you don’t weaken in this place because of that and none of us know why, the only explanation we have is the prophecy. You are stronger than any other god because of that, you don’t weaken on earth, you don’t weaken in Olympus, you don’t weaken in the Underworld. Do you know how lucky you are? Do you know how much power that takes?” 

She wanted to yell at him, she wanted to scream at him and call him and idiot but he wouldn’t understand why. He thought what he was doing was the right thing. In some ways it was, but it wasn’t what she wanted, this was not how she wanted it to happen. 

“I-“

“I’m not finished. You won’t have that now.” She said it slowly so every word would set in for him.

“What?”

“You know what they say, if you eat food of the Underworld you become one of Hades’ soldiers. That’s what they teach you isn’t it? That’s what they tell you in Olympus.”

“It is but-“ gods just become gods of the Underworld, if he was like this surely it wouldn’t make much of a difference. 

“It isn’t me you become a soldier to Steve!” Hades yelled she couldn’t stop herself. “This is the land of the dead, you are not immortal here, you were not immortal here, but now,” she let out a dry laugh and leaned back against the glass.

To Steve he could almost see her how his mother did, evil, dark, reeking of death, the way she looked down at him now, the way she laughed so coldly but it wasn’t at him, well maybe a little, it was this place as well. 

“We eat the food of the Underworld because our souls already belong here, because the Underworld already has a piece of them,” Hades slowly turned and looked back down at the gates with longing, Steve could see it in her reflection that her mind was a million miles away. “Gods of Olympus aren’t able to because they’ll be stuck, not to me, to the Underworld. A part of you dies, it takes a part of your soul and it holds it here because you sacrificed yourself to it. An eye for an eye,” she whispered, her posture straightening when she saw Charon land at the docks with a passenger. “A piece of you died, a piece of your soul is now a part of the Underworld forever, you won’t stay strong in Olympus or on earth, it might be longer than the rest of us but it will not be the same.” Hades appearance started to shift, her clothes morphed into a flowing black layered lace gown, her grown, sharp and golden now sat on her head and her chin was held high. “Do you understand now? Why I’m angry.” She looked back at him over his shoulder and when Steve tried to step forward she told him not to. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“You had a choice, you had the upper hand, you don’t have that anymore. There is no choice anymore, you took that from yourself and that is both selfish and selfless and I’m still trying to wrap my head around how that works but somehow it does.”

A knock rang on the door as the gates to the Underworld opened slowly and Hades watched Charon walk through with his passenger.

“Hades! She’s- somehow” Pietro puffed, he was already in his armour and she imagined so were the other judges.

“I know.” She said, “take her to the throne room.”

The passenger looked up at the windows of the home that sat on top of the hill between the gates and the fields. She saw Hades standing over her, watching her as she walked up the steps around the hill towards the front door, the gold catching the sun, since when did it shine so brightly here? Then Hades turned on her feet and disappeared from site as Sam stood on top of the hill waiting to escort the passenger the rest of the way. 

She walked around the desk, picking up her helmet from its perch on the corner and shoving it into Steve’s hands.

“Put this on, she can’t see you.”

“What’s going on?! It can’t be her?!” He asked, how was the even possible?!

“Like I said Steve, a part of you died, she’s tethered to you spiritually, a mother knows when she’s lost her son and now she’s come to try and take you back.”

Dread swept through Steve as he came to the realisation of what was about to happen, Demeter was here and she was ready to fight.  

“This is getting ridiculous, where is the bitch?!” Demeter spat at the judges as they stood to the side of Hades throne adorned in their battle armour, ready to protect their queen at any cost. 

Hades had had Demeter wait a couple minutes just to piss her off, she had to admit there was no other reason than to be petty. As she stood on the other side of the main entrance she looked at Steve as he put on the helmet and disappeared from view. 

“Follow me in, don’t make yourself known. I know you want to be present but she can’t see you, it will put you in too much danger.” She told him and didn’t wait for him to respond before the doors flew open and mint weaved out from the cracks in the stone around Demeter and trapped her in her place. 

“Sorry Demeter,” Hades smiled even though Demeter couldn’t see her, “the bitch was just dealing with some business. You know how it is, duties to fulfil, realms to rule, oh wait,” she laughed, “you’re not a queen.” she whispered into the air, only a couple meters away from Demeter who sneered in response as the mint continued to climb up her body.

“Where is he?! I know he’s here and I know you’ve hurt him!” 

“Did you feel it, did you heart break? Get down,” Hades gripped the mint around Demeter’s back and pushed her to the ground before strolling around her at up the steps of her throne.

“It’s rude not to bow to the queen of the castle,” she smiled as she stood on the steps. “Who are you looking for?”

“My son, you devil!” She lashed and tried to break free but she wasn’t strong enough, not here and as the plant tightened she needed to save her strength for this battle. This was the long game. 

“Ah yes, your grown son who you’ve lost control of. Or are you referring to another one?” Hades walked back down the steps slowing towards Demeter, this was too much fun. She shouldn’t be stringing it out but by gods she hated this woman with every fibre of her being. “I don’t think he wants you to know where he is darling.”

“Thor will know what you’ve done, I’ve already told him as much!” 

“Does Thor know what you’ve done? Thats only fair. About how you abused your child, about how you abuse your nymphs, how you take your anger out on them, about how you ruined the psyche of your beloved son because you were having a bad day?!” She yelled in her face as they all watched. 

Steve watched as she stood up for him to the person who had ruined his life. To the person who beat him, who made him feel worthless, who gave him nightmares even still. He was frozen in his spot as he watched Hades yell at Demeter for everything she’d done. 

“I have kept secrets for you before Demeter, I will no longer let you continue to take from those around you,” Hades whispered the words as she stood face to face with her enemy, “you will answer to Thor, you’re not my business and you do not belong to my realm.” she said as the mint started to retract from Demeter and the stone beneath her started to give way. A portal to Olympus, sending her directly to the door of Thor’s office. 

Hades had it planned perfectly, she’d already sent word to Thor of Demeter’s presence, already told him that he’d see her soon. She even planned the timing of the portal and mint to the T. 

Then Demeter stood, as the ground beneath her began to crumble and it happened in slow motion to everyone around them.

“You forget that I’ve kept secrets for you too, your highness.” Demeter grinned as they came eye to eye. She stood on the edge, she could feel her time running out. Hades gasped as Demeter gripped the front of her dress, “I know about the prophecy too, your dear brother Thor told me. Probably because he knew you were the villain in this story.”

Hades held Demeter at the edge of the gaping hole with two hands ‘don’t fight her’ she told herself ‘don’t succumb to it’. 

“How dare you” she seethed and Demeter had the audacity to grin. 

It happened all at once. The judges screamed, they ran forward but they weren’t fast enough. Pietro immediately locked down the Underworld; Wanda sent word for all Underworld gods to immediately return; and Sam was gone and back in a flash with Loki and Thor close behind him. 

Steve’s helmet fell from his head as he yelled out and dropped to the floor where Hades and Demeter once stood. There was no trace of them, no sign of where they could have gone. 

“She was sending Demeter to your office.” He heard Wanda say.

“There’s no sign of them there or anywhere in Olympus.” Thor said in reply but all Steve heard was that they don’t know where she is. He balled his hands into fists against the stone, where the mint had broken the floor came roses red as blood as the thorns crept over his hands. 

“We’ll have Peter and Harley searching the mortal world as well as Natasha and Becca in Olympus as well. Pietro and Wanda, you’ll search here. Sam, you’re her second in command so for the time being you stay here and are in charge.” Loki took action immediately while Thor stood there thinking of all the possibilities. He cursed himself for ever letting it get so bad between the two. “Thor!” Loki yelled, breaking him out of his trance. “Back to your office, they may still end up there.”

Steve swallowed a sob, this was all his fault. His face screwed up, his chest was tight, where would Demeter have taken her? If anyone would know it should be him!?

“The garden!” He stood abruptly and sprinted out of the room to the river, to Olympus, because the only place he could think of that Demeter would hide, where she would take Hades to punish her was the garden. The place Steve grew up. 

Chapter Thirteen: No Sign of the Sun

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[spiffyspuffy]

My Mystic Messenger Opinions

(That no one asked for)

Zen

Character: 8/10 I know a lot of people think Zens annoying but I find him endearing. One of the best things about this game is the complexity of the characters and I love that Zen’s cockiness is actually how he hides his insecurities. Even though he’s egotistical about himself, he’s never shallow with MC. He says multiple times that he doesn’t care about MC’s looks. He loves her for who she is and shows this in how he makes an effort to get to know her and be her cheerleader everyday. An underrated thing about Zen is how emotionally intelligent he is. He’s great at helping the RFA members when they need emotional support (Yoosung’s grief over loosing Rika, Jaehee crying from the stress of her job and MC’s shock at almost being kidnapped). 

Route: 2/10 Zen is a great character and he deserves a better route. The false rape accusation plot is horrible and offensive. Also, his route functions as an introduction to the game’s plot, so it’s exposition heavy and lacks action. The creators said that the lesson of his route is that when our insecurities are handled in a healthy way, they can push us to be better people. I love this message and I wish it had been highlighted more in his route.

Romantic Potential: 9/10 Zen is arguably the most dateable of all the characters. He’s a bad boy without being sketchy. He’s protective without being possessive. He’s kind without being a pushover and he’s smart without being pretentious. His biggest drawbacks are his overconfidence and and how busy he is with working. There aren’t any glaring red flags. 

~ More under the cut ~ 

Jeahee

Character: 7/10 I love this adorable theater nerd! She comes across as formal and stuffy at first, but reveals herself to be passionate and funny the more you get to know her. I gave her a lower score because she does have a strong personality that rubs me the wrong way sometimes (her jealousy of MC in Zen’s route, her lack of sympathy towards Jumin in her own route and her general rudeness towards Yoosung). She is the most mature of the RFA though, so her exasperation is warranted. Being mature and grounded also makes Jaehee the least complex Mysme character. I’ve got a lot of respect for her though!

Route: 5/10 Getting to engage in discourse about capitalism and the patriarchy? Amazing and hands down the best part of her route. It’s really inspiring to see Jaehee stand up for herself and choose to follow her dreams. I think it’s important for every young person to hear that they should have a positive work/life balance and demand that their employer supports that. Other highlights are Seven helping Jaehee by making the Power Point presentation for Jumin’s cat project, getting to fangirl with Jaehee over Zen and the creepy stalker plot. I thoroughly enjoy her route and the only reason the score is so low is because some of the other routes are seriously incredible.

Romantic Potential: 8/10 Jeahee doesn’t have any red flags either. I think she’s perfectly capable of having a healthy, romantic relationship with MC. The biggest issue standing in their way is Korea’s bias against lesbian relationships. As a fellow coffee lover and theater enthusiast though, I could definitely see myself or someone similar having a happy life with her, even if it might have to be in secret.

Yoosung

Character: 6/10 I can’t stand people who aren’t competent. Yoosung is a terrible cook, he barely cleans and he doesn’t pay attention to his studies. On top of that, 80% of his personality is that he’s a gamer AND he’s in love with his “dead” adopted cousin. Yuck. ~ But ~ I understand that he’s depressed and depression can seriously effect someone’s executive functioning. Taking all of those negatives away, we’re left with a young man who’s trying to his best to be taken seriously, which is something I can relate to. It’s nice to see imposter syndrome represented and I admire his loyalty to his friends. 

Route: 8/10 This route is sooo good! Who can forget the night when the RFA starts being aggressively stalked by Minty Eye? And the pic Zen takes of a believer looking at him through his apartment window...chills. His route only gets better from there when he infiltrates Mint Eye with Seven. This is the first time we get to see the twins interact and damn, is it confusing. But in a good way!!   The biggest drawback is that MC is stuck in Rika’s apartment and doesn’t play much of an active role in the story. 

Romantic Potential: 7/10 Despite all the negatives I listed about Yoosung, I do think he’s capable of have a healthy, romantic relationship with MC. Yoosung is also the only true sub of the RFA men, which is a definite plus for some players. Yoosung’s yandere side is a huge red flag though. MC better watch out if she doesn’t dote on him as much as he wants. Once he falls for her, he’s all in. 

Jumin

Character: 5/10 Unpopular opinion, but I hate Jumin. I understand that he’s some people’s guilty pleasure though. Jumin’s good aspects are that he’s intensely loyal, an animal lover and has a dry sense of humor. I appreciate how devoted he is to the RFA and it’s members. He offers to help Zen multiple times (albeit rejected), sends everyone body guards in his route and pays the hospital in the SE to keep Saeran’s identity top secret. What I’m not a fan of is the way he obsesses over MC and traps her in his house. This isn’t the first time he’s shown obsessive tendencies either. Seven explicitly states that Jumin acted this way with Rika in the past. Huuuge red flag.  

Route: 3/10 His entire route is fraught with rich people problems. I’m supposed to sympathize with him for an arranged marriage? All he had to do was say no. His father couldn’t force him. He’s possessive of MC because women have only ever wanted to be with him for his money? Not an excuse. Elizabeth going missing was a vaguely interesting story line, but Jumin’s relationship with his cat was cringey enough to overshadow the drama of it for me.

Romantic Potential: 3/10 Jumin has some serious issues. He’s never had a good female role model which has given him a deep seeded hatred of women. Remember when he tells MC that respecting women goes against his core beliefs? Yikes. Then, after meeting a woman who respects him and he actually likes, he locks her up and tries to change everything about her (cutting her hair, buying her a new wardrobe, teaching her the ‘proper’ way to walk, etc). We’re supposed to believe Jumin learns to be better by the end of his route, but he still proposes to MC after only a week of knowing her! I’m having a hard time picturing Jumin in a healthy relationship. 

Saeyoung

Character: 10/10 I’m not saying Saeyoung is a good person. Far from it actually. But he IS very well written and extremely interesting. In the other routes, Saeyoung is energetic and funny, bringing much needed humor to heavy moments. It’s always a joy being in a chatroom with him. Then you have the reveal that he actually hates his job and that he was faking his personality, all to a sad and slowed down version of his theme song. This plot twist shook me to my core. What makes him so well written is that the devs did a good job dropping hints to his real personality in the other routes that players might not notice during their first play through. 

Route: 9/10 This route is a wild ride from start to finish. This is when the plot threads from the other routes come together and start make sense. This route has secret agents, assassins, a deadly bomb, kidnapping, an evil twin, a powerful cult... It’s action heavy while still carrying enough emotional weight to make me cry every time. Saeyoung’s route is heavy and emotional and sooo worth playing. 

Romantic Potential: 6/10 Saeyoung has a shady job and a complicated past. Choosing to be with him means putting your life in danger every day. If you’re okay with that, he’d be a decent romantic partner. He’s a little rough around the edges, but I do think he has potential to become more like his ideal self (God Seven) after reading his AE. He’ll always have that mean and serious side to him, but I don’t think he’s hopeless. 

V

Character: 4/10 He’s low-key the worst. I sympathize with his trauma from being abused by Rika, but I don’t understand why he feels the need to fix everything by himself. Rika might be the source of most problems in this game, but V is partially responsible for standing by and letting her get away with everything. 

My first issue with him comes from encouraging Saeyoung to join the agency. I know Saeyoung didn’t have many options, but how was encouraging him to train to become a hacker and assassin the best option?! On top of that, he stalked Zen per Rika’s request and took creeper photos of him, failed miserably at protecting Saeran and don’t get me started on how he loves Rika unconditionally. V has some good characteristics but I really don’t care about those when he’s so terrible otherwise. 

Route: 10/10 This route is *chef’s kiss* the BEST. I wouldn’t call it a romance since Vs barely in it but damn is it riveting. Saeran is the perfect amount of loving and unhinged, MC get’s to know Rika on a personal level and V finally gets to be active instead of just reactive like he is in all the other routes. It’s also  satisfying to find out how much V has been keeping secret and to get a glimpse into Rika’s psyche. But what really makes V’s route stand out among the rest is that there are spy action scenes like in Saeyoung’s route, but the player also gets to spend time in Mint Eye.

Romantic Potential: 7/10 I’ll be honest. I don’t think V will ever be able to move on from Rika. He’ll always love her, as evidence in his AE. Besides that drawback, I do think he’d be a good romantic partner for MC. V was never the issue in his past relationship with Rika. She was the abusive one and he was 100% the victim. I think he would treat MC just as well in their relationship as he treated Rika. 

Saeran

Character: 7/10 I know I’m not the only one who loved the suave and cunning Saeran of the main routes who, after getting the therapy he needed, became an adorably shy and awkward man. Sadly, that’s not the character we got in AS. Instead, we met Ray, the split personality of Saeran’s psyche. Ray is charming and sweet as well as possessive and manipulative...which is something I’m into. But it’s not for everyone. Saeran’s real personality in AS is revealed to be angry and abusive and not at all similar to who he was in the main routes. I’ll give Cheritz props for writing a fairly accurate portrayal of disassociative identity disorder, but I think Saeran’s characterization is inconsistent. I get the impression Ray was an afterthought when creating AS. 

Route: 7/10 A mixed bag for me. I really enjoy any chatroom/scene with Ray. He’s undeniably creepy, but those scenes were entertaining in a dark romance kind of way. On the other hand, the Saeran scenes had a lot of unrealized potential. Abuse is never cool. All his route needed to fix this was a scene where Saeran explained to MC that he was pretending to hate her to appease Rika and the other believers. While this fake hatred is implied, I think it needed to be outright stated. It’s also hard to believe that Saeran overcame his DID in the course of one night. I know all routes are limited to 11 days, but this one needed more. Highlights of this route are Saeyoung being kidnapped by his father and of course, dark Yoosung with Elizabun. 

Romantic Potential: 7/10 I truly do believe that Saeran could go on and live a happy life in any of the endings where he escapes Mint Eye and receives therapy. While we only get a glimpse of what an emotionally stable Searan looks like, we know that he was kind and attentive with MC. Saeran is a giver and would do anything to make MC happy. Red flags are that Searan is still clingy at the end of his route. Yoosung makes a comment that he’s always holding MC’s hand when he sees them together. Also, his DID is something that will occasionally return and that’s something MC has to go into their relationship knowing. 

[poisonheadcrabsalesman]

More therapy thoughts part 1/?

Behavior Theory Frameworks/Conditioning and What the fuck does Master Chief talk about in therapy?

Ramblings below - like a lot, like I spent too much time writing this and you should not read this

Behavioral Theory could work well as a framework with rehabilitating Spartan IIs if the case worker focused on Operant Conditioning Theory and Cognitive Social Learning Theory, which I talked about in this ask because I think I’m funny and this blog is an archive of me applying human behavior theories to video games.

Spartans have always been taught the mission comes first! Always! The 2s are indoctrinated from age 6-14 and then have that reinforced the rest of their lives. From the beginning they are taught to push themselves to the limits, earn their food by winning, form bonds with teammates but be ready to sacrifice them for the mission. The whole lives wasted vs spent conversation between John and Mendez after the augmentation surgery!

What the UNSC/ONI wants comes before their lives, the lives of other soldiers, civilians, AI etc. This constant conditioning of expectations and rewards has created the norms cemented in their minds. This becomes standard operating procedure.

Spartans are also an entirely separated social group, other people have made really great posts on how they are Othered and have their own way of communicating with body language. ODSTs hate Spartans, marines see them as cyborgs or saviors, and while they’re allies, Spartans are not seen or treated as human, by literally everyone. They are a means to an end, with the original goal being to maintain the UNSC’s position of power and crush the insurrectionists in the outer colonies, but uh oh Aliens!

Maybe the 2s aren’t as expendable as the 3s but the mindset and reinforcement of “mission first, people second” being repeated their entire lives is going to stick. So is the constant mistreatment and abuse from their fellow soldiers and handlers. 

Addressing the cognitive distortions that come from their upbringing while also balancing the fact that Spartans are so fundamentally different from the way they developed to survive would be so much work, especially considering how much information on them is given to their therapist.  The main distortion I would apply is minimization, making large problems small and not properly dealing with them, and specifically for John, personification, accepting blame for negative events without sufficient evidence. 

Like these are grown ass super soldiers who can kill you in less than a second and calculate the amount of gravity in a room on the fly but then also can flounder when trying to comfort civilians or make small talk because their experiences and values are so alien to adults who had more developmentally “normal” lives. 

Literally applying therapy to Spartans would be like, what was done to you was wrong, the ends do not justify the means, you were children and the adults in your life failed to protect you. You are a human person who is fallible and did the best you could with what you had. And the Spartan would say, “sounds fake but okay, can I pass my psych eval and go back to war now please?”

Jumping back to Behavior Theory

Different approaches to therapy under the Behavior Theory umbrella help modify negative behaviors with treatments like Cognitive Behavioral Therapy and Dialectical behavior therapy that teach individuals adaptive coping like emotional regulation, distress tolerance, cognitive distortions, and interpersonal communication. And that’s just one framework under the umbrella of human behavior theories.

Social work therapy is different from psych as it approaches individuals with heavily researched, evidence-based theories and frameworks in a holistic viewing of person-in-environment, instead of a strong focus on internal psychology. 

Social work looks at all the interacting systems, environment, history, and internal and external factors affecting an individual. One of the most useful frameworks is the Biopsychosocial-Spiritual Frameworks (BPSS) when helping a client. It helps with identifying all the intersecting factors, both risk and protective, that shapes a client’s lived experiences. The most important thing to remember is that the individual is an expert in their own life, they know their experiences best.

The hardest part is applying this to Spartans because they Are So Fucked, their lived experiences, their environments and systems and institutions interacting with them, and the amount of their personal information that is probably so classified.

BPSS is a tool to help social workers assess individuals and their situations by collecting info that is related to the presenting issues and current and past circumstances. Info like medical history, hospitalizations, substance abuse, mental illness, personal relationships, family history and background, culture and norms, education, legal history, spirituality and participation etc. is all under this framework. 

For Spartan 2s most of this info is lost or classified and helping someone who has repressed every negative emotion they've had for the sake of the mission would be so much to unpack but that’s also why you’re reading the mad ramblings over an over caffeinated nerd on the internet.

Life Course Theory which looks at developmental milestones and the individual’s experiences versus the socially expected markers, how do you apply that to children who were taken and have lived such different lives? 

While early adolescence is when “normal” development of thoughts of self and identity take place alongside the physical changes of puberty, Spartans were being turned into emotionless calculating weapons. Sorry John, no forming a sense of identity and peer bonds for you, go kill that Watts guy who betrayed us and joined the insurrectionists. 

And now that I’ve gone this insane and opened 2 whole textbooks up, let’s get to Master Chief thoughts. If you’ve read this far thank you, I swear I’m normal, 2020 has just been a weird year. 

Why the fuck did I think I could write a therapy fic on a guy with 20 minutes of actual dialogue across almost 2 decades of games?

I make fun of him and call him a himbo, but he’s smart, he knows he’s being used and there is resentment there that’s been building for years. 

There’s also decades of trauma and combat experience, physical, and emotional abuse, the lack of a support network,  lack of an identity, the biological factors and aftermath of the augmentations and injuries he’s received, a whole lot of grief and self-inflicted guilt. 

The loss of a third of his peer group with the augmentation surgery, Sam’s death, the loss of Reach (the only place he’s considered home), Keyes, the Pillar of Autumn crew, Miranda Keyes, Johnson, Cortana. He cares about the marines who fight with him!!!

He just stands there and takes it and rarely snaps, and even then it’s just small cracks on the surface with fissures running deep. The few details I will pull from Halo 5 are Blue Team’s reactions to John pushing himself so hard from the beginning of the game, and the literal crack in his armor from the fight with Locke. Like dude.  

John’s a leader and will get the mission done but he tugs on the leash. He’s earned enough of a reputation and uses it to get his way.

Halo 2’s “Permission to leave the station” with Mr. “I’m going to hand deliver a bomb to the fusion reactor of a covenant supercarrier and hope my friends catch me”. 

Halo 4 is when we see him say no to a superior officer and then 5 is him going AWOL. Palmer literally points out that no one is going to stop him.

Halo 5 kills me for many reasons but John bringing up Halsey and what she did to him and also pointing out that he knows Halo 5 Cortana is trying to manipulate him with psychological tactics hurts. 

He knows what’s been done to him!

I cannot remember which book it was but John isn’t used to working alone. He literally takes fire because he was expecting someone to have his back! 

He’s lost without Cortana! She was in his brain! Y’all! I played Halo Combat Evolved on the original xbox when I was like 8 and I knew these two were meant to be together. From the moment they met they had great chemistry and relied on each other! Cortana literally goes after people who have it out for John! John wants her approval and shows off for her in one of the books. 

I’ve already written too much here but like all of the games have John showing off for Cortana, making dry jokes, jumping out of things he shouldn’t. 

The whole point of this rambling is to try and get my thoughts about how to approach John’s character under control.

And that’s the thing. He’s lost control. He’s lost people, he’s losing his position and being phased out as an aging spartan, a relic. John’s used to following orders and making some decisions on the battlefield but it was always short term.

He has no identity beyond being a weapon. Complete the mission, clear the LZ, get put in cryo. Rinse, repeat. 

The timeline of the games are what I'm most familiar with but with the comics and books too it’s one long run from Halo 2 to Halo 4. Cairo station to the Dreadnought to the crash landing to Forward Unto Dawn to Requiem to “The Didact is Dead but not really but we’ll deal with him off-screen”.

I know Hood apparently gave John R&R orders before Halo 5 that he ignored and kept running himself into the ground. This is a man who has to keep moving and keep being useful. 

I imagine him giving in and seeking help as a last resort to fix any problems he has with performing his duties rather than helping himself be healthier. 

Any professional he sees is going to have to approach him like they’re approaching a self sacrificing feral cat, with lunch meat and quiet. This man needs to have his support network closer, set up long term goals, and do some serious, and most likely incredibly painful, self reflection on where he’s come from and where he wants to go. Get him out of that tin can and into therapy. I don’t have a nice neat ending because this was a ramble and also therapy is not neat and tidy. Thanks for reading my words about mr halo

[everwitch-magiks]

dance with somebody (ch. 25)

start from ch. 1 | back to ch. 24

"Oh lord," Bitty whispers to himself. "Oh my goodness."

How long has it been, since the first time he stood in front of the Samwell hockey Haus with a pie in hand, just like this? Four and a half years? No, even longer. Goodness gracious.

He's been able to visit from time to time, since graduation. Providence is close, after all, and the Samwell team will always hold such a dear place in Bitty's heart. It's just, usually, he's come down to watch a game, and always together with Jack. They've stopped by the Haus, of course, have made their rounds and tried to catch up with everyone. Besides, it's not like they don't see many SMH members, former and current, at various other social occasions every so often.

But it's just… Bitty loves coming back to Samwell with Jack, loves reconnecting with their important people and places together. Yet even so, Bitty's relationship with his former teammates isn't quite the same, with Jack added to the equation. Not that going back to the Haus with Jack is bad, or uncomfortable, or anything in between. Not at all. It's just…

Senior year, Bitty became captain. The boys all chose him. Stepping into that role, and leading them through that grueling season, through those excruciating, exhilarating, endless playoffs all the way to actual championship victory, is something that still means more than Bitty can put into words. It was everything. And Jack was there for all of it, yes, he supported Bitty through all of it – without Jack, Bitty isn't sure if he would've held himself together until the end. But while Jack was there, he wasn't there. It wasn't his team.

It was Bitty's.

It's not something that Bitty thinks of as a good thing or a bad thing. It's just the truth. And it probably says something that, when Bitty had hesitantly told Jack that he'd been thinking about making a visit to Samwell on his own, Jack had been completely unsurprised. In fact, Jack's smile had been so knowing, he'd almost looked a little bit smug.

"Of course, Bits. You tell your boys hello from me. Don't spoil them with too much pie, eh?"

Bitty adjusts his bowtie, a little wearily. Gosh. He's actually nervous, isn't he? He has literally no reason to be. It's just the boys, his boys. His home away from home. They'll be happy to see him. Won't they?

Maybe turning up unannounced was a bad plan.

"Bits?"

Bitty almost jumps, he's so startled.

Thankfully, it's just Dex.

"Morning!" Bitty tries for cheerful. It almost works. "I was in the neighbourhood, so. Thought I'd pop by for a bit."

"It's so good to see you, man." Dex is grinning widely as he goes in for a hug. Bitty somehow manages to balance his pie and wrap one arm around Dex, simultaneously. "How long can you stay?"

"Oh, I wouldn't want to impose too much, I'm sure y'all are swamped with homework and practice and-"

"Don't be an idiot. Everyone's gonna be so psyched to see you." Dex's grin softens. "Actually, today, we're-"

"Bitty!"

"Holy shit, Bits!"

"Pie!"

Bitty can't help his smile as Nursey, Tango and Hops tumble out of the Haus. It's debatable, whether or not Nursey has actually managed to put shoes on.

"Careful," Dex mutters as he swiftly takes the pie out of Bitty's hands. "Got your back, there you go."

It's just in time before Bitty is engulfed in something that feels so much like a celly, his heart actually aches.

"Goodness, I've missed y'all." Bitty smiles helplessly. "My, Hops, were you always this tall?"

"Probably," Hops says. He grins widely. "Maybe you just got tinier? Even more itty-bitty."

"Hey, now!" Bitty exclaims. He's grinning, too. Somehow, he has a feeling he'll be doing little else, today. "I'll have you know I'm a perfectly respectable height, Jonathan."

"Come on!" Tango is literally tugging at Bitty's arm in excitement. "This is such perfect timing, we were just-"

"Holy shit. Isn't that Bitty? Hey, everyone, Bitty's here!"

There's the unmistakable sound of a hoard of hockey players sprinting down several flights of stairs, and that's only the calm before the storm.

It takes well over half an hour before Bitty actually makes it inside the Haus.

His heart feels pleasantly warm as he steps into the familiar kitchen. Dex has set his pie to the side of a counter, his aunt’s old curtains are still hanging in the window and someone has managed to keep those plants on the windowsill alive. There's even a couple of succulents that Bitty doesn't quite recognise. Evidently, Bitty's housekeeping ambitions are actually being honored.

Most importantly, though, the kitchen is absolutely bustling with activity.

"We're having a deluxe team breakfast," Chowder is telling him enthusiastically. "Or, well, sort of a team brunch. Except, it's more brunch and lunch, really-"

"And snacks!" someone chimes in. It takes Bitty a second to remember his name – Joseph Lyons, one of the so-called Scones. Bitty has met all of the freshmen before, and he's tried his best to be his usual, charming self and make an approachable impression, but there's certainly something of an endearing flush on the boy's cheeks as he speaks directly to Bitty. "We're actually making baked potato bites, soon as Whiskey's done with the oven. I hope you'll like them!"

"Oh, that's exciting! I'm sure they'll be delicious."

Bitty offers Joseph a somewhat distracted smile. Whiskey? The oven?

He looks further into the kitchen, and… Yes. There's Whiskey. He's mixing something in a bowl, and listening to a boy next to him. A boy who is prattling on about something as he chops vegetables, his brown eyes bright with excitement.

A decidedly unfamiliar boy.

"Hey, Ocean," Nursey says – the boy looks up. "Can I borrow that knife, when you're done?"

"Do we want Derek Nurse with a sharp object in hand?" Ocean asks, just a bit too loudly. He grins as the kitchen at large provides a good round of chirps in agreement. "How about you hand me those tomatoes, Nursey, and I'll take care of them for you."

Bitty watches the boy for a moment longer, his brows slightly furrowed. Ocean seems to fit in quite seamlessly. Did he recently transfer from another school? Or did Bitty somehow actually manage to forget a Scone?

"Hey. Bits."

Whiskey has looked up. For some reason, he's watching Bitty with a certain level of apprehension. Bitty quickly offers him a bright smile.

"It's good to see you," he offers, because it truthfully is. "Jack says hello, by the way."

Whiskey smiles, too.

"Tell him I said hi. I hope you're finding the Haus in a decent enough state?"

"Oh, you best be taking special care of my old room, too," Bitty chirps good-naturedly. "I hope it's to your liking, and all?"

"For sure. You can head up and take a look, if you'd like that trip down memory lane." Whiskey's suggestion sounds surprisingly sincere. "You know the way. Door's unlocked."

"Oh," Bitty says. It hasn't been on his list, exactly, but now that it's being offered… "You know, I'll actually take you up on that."

Whiskey nods towards him, once, before returning his attention to his bowl.

Stepping into his old room feels more than a little bit surreal. It's familiar, of course, but also very different. Whiskey clearly keeps it quite neat – the bed's been made, and it's not too cluttered, overall. There's a Samwell banner pinned to the wall and two eye-catchingly colorful yet discreetly minimalist posters above the desk. It all fits in well with how Bitty remembers Whiskey, on and off the ice – here lives someone with a good amount of discipline, and a simultaneous desire to stand out, and fit in.

On the desk, there's a framed picture of the team from last year's championship victory that Bitty can't look at without getting a lil’ teary eyed. He directs his attention out the window, instead. Unsurprisingly, the view is just the same as ever.

"Changed the decor a bit."

Bitty looks over his shoulder. Whiskey is leaning against the doorway, his hands in his pockets. There's a bit of flour dusted over his sweater in a way that Bitty has no idea how to chirp him for. His expression is almost entirely unreadable.

"It's nice," Bitty tells him carefully. Gosh. This shouldn't be so frightfully awkward. "You look well, Whiskey."

"I'm doing alright." Whiskey steps a bit further inside the room. "Actually, I'm doing better."

"Oh." Bitty tries to smile. Is he supposed to offer a follow-up question? Is this a heart to heart, or small talk? "That's… That's nice to hear."

"Excuse me, sorry." Suddenly, unexpectedly, that boy from before pops in. Ocean. He goes straight for a backpack that's sitting on the chair by the desk. "Just need my charger. I'll get out of your way."

"No, wait," Whiskey says quickly.

The boy stills. There's a moment of eye contact between the two of them that Bitty can't seem to interpret.

"You two should meet."

Whiskey turns back towards Bitty. Slowly, and very deliberately, he places an arm around the other boy's waist.

"Bitty, this is Miguel."

Oh, sweet Mary.

Bitty looks between the two boys, blinking slowly. Of course. Of course.

"Hello." Evidently, Miguel has taken it upon himself to fill out the silence. His smile is, quite frankly, lovely. "Eric Bittle, right? I've heard so much about you."

"Oh, sugar, it's wonderful to meet you." Bitty has recovered enough to extend a hand. He's beaming, and it's probably ridiculous, but he can't quite bring himself to care. "My goodness. Hi. Are you a junior?"

"That's right." Miguel seems to take his enthusiasm in stride. He gamely shakes Bitty's hand. "Me and Whiskey had a class together, this fall."

"And now I can barely get you alone for a minute, given how the whole Haus has collectively adopted you." Whiskey doesn't sound at all bothered by this turn of events. He's got his hands back in his pockets, and he looks quite a bit more relaxed than before Miguel came in. "The Waffles are literally going to all of your games."

"Well, so are you," Miguel says, with a fond smile towards Whiskey. He quickly turns back to Bitty, though. "I'm on the water polo team."

"Isn't that something," Bitty says. And then it clicks. "Oh. Ocean, right?"

"Right." Miguel grins. "We don't really do nicknames in water polo, at least not the same way you lot insist upon, but it's actually-"

"Hey, Ocean!" 

There's someone in the doorway. It's… A Scone. One of the Scones. Bitty really must try to visit more often. The Scone looks between the three of them, his expression mildly confused, before he states his business.

"Joyo and Jader need your advice on their potato-ricotta experiment."

"I'll be right there."

Miguel glances at Whiskey for a second, and there's another moment of silent communication. Then Whiskey nods.

Miguel offers Bitty another smile.

"I'm sure we'll have the chance to talk some more, but I believe I really must see to those potatoes.”

His hand touches Whiskey's briefly on his way out. Bitty would never have noticed, unless he'd known to look for it.

Unexpectedly, Whiskey closes the door behind Miguel. He turns back towards Bitty.

For a second, they just look at one another.

"He, uh." Suddenly, Whiskey seems flustered. "He's great. So great."

"I'm glad." Bitty has rarely meant something so much in his entire life. "Am I right to assume that the team doesn't know?"

"That's right." Whiskey actually looks a bit apprehensive. "We don't… I'm not out to my family. Or to many of my friends."

"I'm just so happy that you're happy." Bitty smiles. "And, can I… He's kind of unfairly pretty, isn't he?"

Bitty would never have guessed that Whiskey could smile so gently.

"Yeah. Honestly, he's kind of everything."

"Oh, Connor." Bitty wants to hug him. That would probably be a little much. "Aren't y'all just too sweet."

"I would, um." Whiskey hesitates. He starts over. "Could you not tell Jack?"

Oh.

Bitty feels surprised. And, surprisingly, just a little bit pleased. It's been somewhat unsettling, figuring out bits and pieces of Whiskey's current life through Jack, watching the two of them connect in a way that Bitty was never able to no matter how hard he tried. Still, he's grateful to Jack for trying to help Whiskey, and even more grateful to him for succeeding. Really, he is.

But it's honestly nice to know that Whiskey trusts him with this. To know that, when it comes to this, Whiskey actually trusts him more. Maybe it shouldn't matter, but if Bitty is completely honest with himself, it does.

"Of course." Bitty smiles. "Honestly, I'm so happy you even wanted me to know."

"I did. I really did." Whiskey runs a hand through his hair. "Bits, you… You must know that I have a lot of respect for you."

Bitty stares at Whiskey. He looks so earnest, and there's a depth to his words that Bitty already knows he will always remember. It's one of those moments in life.

"Thank you," Bitty says warmly. "You know, I've never wanted to make you feel like you need to make choices that aren’t right for you. That you’re not comfortable with."

"No, I know." Whiskey shakes his head. "You haven't made me feel that way. I've struggled with this for a lot of other reasons, I guess. The narrative is always about coming out."

"It is. And that's something I've certainly contributed to."

Whiskey actually smiles.

"Sure. But more than that, you've… I've been in this sport for years. And with everything that's happened with you, and with Jack, it's… There's a before and an after. Things are better."

"Oh. That's… Oh." Gosh, Bitty might actually be tearing up a little. When, exactly, did Whiskey grow up so much? "I'm so glad you think so."

"I believe it goes a little beyond my personal opinion," Whiskey says plainly. He's still smiling. It is, quite frankly, unsettling. "Should we, um. I think the Scones might die a little if you helped them with those potatoes. In a good way."

"Oh, I'd love to cook with those sweet boys." Bitty manages a slight grin. "You know… I almost thought Miguel was a Scone, too. Your boy's not really built for hockey, but he just fits in so well, I didn't know what to make of him."

"You sure you wanna talk about being built for hockey?" Whiskey chirps. He sounds almost playful. "I wouldn't, if I were you."

"Hey, now," Bitty admonishes cheerfully. "What happened to having lots of respect for me? Let's go back to that."

"Why don't we go back to the kitchen, instead?" Whiskey suggests. "I kind of need to check on the oven."

"Of course," Bitty agrees quickly. Obviously, the oven needs to take priority. "Is there, um, any chance you could remind me which Scone is Jader? I think I know, but…"

"Jaden Brant," Whiskey supplies readily. "Tall one. In your defense, he's pretty much joined at the hip with Joyo."

"He is, isn't he? Those two…?"

Whiskey smiles.

"Yeah. Those two." He looks away for a moment. "And that's… They're coming in as freshmen, immediately knowing they'll be accepted. No hesitation."

"That's so wonderful."

Whiskey looks at Bitty again.

"You did that," he says simply. "You know that, right?"

"No, I'm…" Dear lord, he's going to cry again. "Their decision to be open can't be only because of little ol' me. It can’t.”

"Maybe not only," Whiskey concedes. "But they chose Samwell for a reason. They knew they'd be safe here."

"Well. That is nice." Bitty wipes at his eyes. "Dear me, I'm… We should… Oven?"

Whiskey nods. His expression is soft in a way that Bitty can't quite put into words.

"Come on. There are literal and figurative scones to attend to."

As they're leaving the room, Bitty feels brave enough for one final, careful question.

"You actually bake?"

"I know," Whiskey says. He sounds… Relaxed. Content, even. "It's not bad. Feels like I'm doing something nice for everyone. You know?"

"Yes," Bitty agrees eagerly. This day is already turning into so much more than he could ever have hoped for. "Believe me, Whiskey. I know."

ch. 26