#she's always been... quick to assume one does things out out of malice. but for once it didn't feel like that.

[silasbug]

my mother called me träge, and she's right.

[3ninth]

Zombies aren't real, and yet Makoto is haunted by the dead.

It started off with nightmares about his bathroom being haunted.

It felt ridiculous, really, so he kept quiet about it.

The doorknob jiggles at night now. Sometimes he sees splatters of blood in the shower, that are gone in the blink of an eye.

Sayaka leaves him messages in the condensation on the mirror. 11037. 11037. 11037.

Some days, he's terrified that he'll see her corpse again.

The knife she used turns up at his door sometimes. It's always gone in the morning. He's woken up to his room in disarray, looking the same it did on the day that Sayaka died.

One night, there was a frantic knocking at his door.

It was Leon. Broken, battered, and bruised. He reeked of stale blood. His limbs were bent in ways that shouldn't have been possible.

Makoto let out a strangled cry and shut the door, and stayed under the blankets for the rest of the night.

Leon's visits became more frequent. He never said a thing, never moved, only stood at Makoto's door. He never left a trace.

When he's alone, Makoto sometimes glimpses Chihiro down the hallway. Despite the distance, he's always able to make out his caved-in skull.

He walks with a hand on the wall to balance himself.

"I'm looking for someone strong."

The extension cord remains wrapped around both his wrists, circling around his neck.

Chihiro's entire face is bloody. He's in his blue tracksuit. He shuffles along quietly, repeating those words to himself.

"I don't want to be weak anymore."

If he's not in the hallway, he's in the warehouse. There's always a trail of blood outside the door to warn Makoto of his presence.

Nobody else comments on it, so Makoto assumes they haven't bumped into Chihiro yet.

Mondo and Taka come in pairs.

Makoto won't ever grow used to the wailing he hears that comes from Taka's room. He won't ever grow used to the static-y feeling that makes his hairs rise when he passes by. The smell of ozone is always thick and heavy in the air.

"Does... anyone else ever hear someone crying and yelling from their room..?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Naegi. The dorms are soundproof."

Makoto didn't bring it up again after that.

Hifumi's presence lurks in the art room. Nobody else goes there.

He takes out the paints and brushes, but never makes anything with them. Makoto always cleans up after him.

He doesn't know if Hifumi's trying to make art like he did when he was still alive. All he knows is that Hifumi's efforts seem to be in vain.

The kitchen always smells like burning cloth and flesh. Sometimes Makoto can hear sirens, but he's certain he's imagining them.

Celestia doesn't show herself other than that, and honestly, he's afraid of what she'd look like if she did.

The ground seems to shake around the gym at all times.

Makoto peers inside, but it's empty.

Is Sakura's spirit still fighting? It's the only explanation he can come up with.

Sometimes, a pale green glow comes from the dressing room. Makoto can never find the source.

The light is soft and reassuring, though, and it doesn't bring the scent of death with it like all the others.

Alter Ego, he assumes.

Mukuro only started to manifest after the trial for her death. Makoto spots her in the greenhouse; a quick blur of dark hair and a white shirt, before she's gone.

She always hides when he visits. The only reason Makoto even knows that she's around is because even though he can't see her, her presence lingers.

And so does the smell of burning flesh, blood, and metal.

The worst comes after Junko's death. Her malice follows him everywhere, threatening to pull him down into the depths of despair, to drown him in it.

Sometimes he can feel her nails on his cheek.

Sometimes she wakes him up in the middle of the night, leaving him unable to move. He can see her shadow standing at his bedside, her eyes icy and cold.

All he can do is squeeze his eyes shut and try to ignore her whispering.

All he can do is remember that things will get better.

As the doors to the outside world slowly creak open, a gust of wind comes from deep within the school.

Makoto likes to think that it was the spirits of his friends, finally being freed.

Finally at rest.

[stuffedsand]

Wahey milgram oc time my silly guya

013 - Shiratori Masaki

My boy

- 20

- prisoner number 013 (I slapped them into base milgram cuz I don't wanna make a whole new cast)

- to quote my own character notes: cringefail specimen of a man.

-- fun name thing! His first name means "true, hope" hehe

UNDERCOVER

"Under, oh so aware of all that you say

This makes me sick, so please, go away"

Votes (fabricated lmao)

T1 - INNOCENT

T2 - GUILTY

Songs of Prisoners

+T1 – what…what are you talking about?

+T2 – no…you-you’re lying!

Voice trailer (t1)

Oh uh… Shiratori Masaki, that's my name. 20, uni student. Uhh what else … oh, sorry if I forget anything, i, ah, my memory has never been any good

If I'm being honest…I don't know what the hell you're talking about! No one around me has died recently. At least…not as far as I can recall…

*Takai? Takai! Wake up! This isn't funny..!*

Voice trailer (t2)

Hi, Es-kun, how have you been? Ah, Shiratori Masaki. You didn't forget our deal, right?

*Shut up! I don't want to listen to you and your stupid problems anymore!*

Personality

-- a timid yet stubborn man. It is very difficult to change his opinions on things. Polite, but very quick to turn defensive if blame is turned on him.

He can be a prick at times.

Extra notes

-- a man with really bad memory loss. During T1 interro, he makes a deal that he'll take MILGRAM seriously if Es can tell him who his victim is. And he has to believe it

-- not mentioned but his memory loss is a trauma response. Dead bodies are traumatic I don't think that's a contraversial take

-- the indirect murderer of the pair

Full body:

Please note -- his ugly fucking shoes were not an accident he has a horrible fashion sense

014 - Akabane Kazuko

The She

-23

-prisoner number 014

-based off one of my multifandom ocs (and my favourite of the 2)

--fun name thing! Her name means "gentle/kind/harmonious child". 子 is also(apparantly) male specific. I have fun reasons for that

UNDERCOVER

(pardon the artstyle change this was done on my tablet instead of my computer and was. Rushed💀)

Under, I don't care if I'm in the right or wrong

Songs of prisoners

Full of malice, we will waltz to our doom

Votes (edit)

T1 - guilty

T2 - (?)

+t1 – let's get on with it, shall we?

+T2 – ...you're not very good at this.

T1 – voice trailer

Hello. I am Akabane Kazuko. 24. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Warden.

I am interested in how all this will play out. But nothing will really change the impact of our actions. Remember that, Warden

* My final act… will take your breath away! *

T2 – voice trailer

Good day, Warden. Kazuko, you remember, yes? Seems your choices have caused quite the ruckus.

* You…You know what you've done! I'll make you pay for it!*

Personality

-- a calm and gentle woman. A showman at heart, she is elegant and loves performing magic tricks.

-- some are unsettled by her, but she does her best to be kind and friendly to those she speaks to

Extra notes:

-- Magician coded :)

-- because I can fabricate fan theories, es assumed they killed 2 people in trial one. They have only killed one.

-- the direct murderer of the pair

Full body: (outdated a lil, I changed her vibe. Design still stands)

Please note -- bowling alley socks

Interro qns (please give me some interro questions tho I'm very bad at thinking any up)

Also note: interros are formatted as

--

Question

Kazuko

Masaki

--

Cuz I wrote this when I labelled Kazuko as 001 and Masaki as 002. I'm changing it to reflect their new numbers but editing on Tumblr mobile sucks so I'm not changing the order </3

Q)Tell us your family structure

014 — mother, self, brother,

...it's just me now

013 — parents, me and my twin, Shiratori Takai.

Q)Is there people you hate?

014 — hypocrites.

Don't become one, warden

013 — people who always depend on you

Q)Which prisoner is the most similar to you?

014 – yuzuriha kotoko.

013 – hm...

Probably kayano. He looks like he doesn't know why he's here, too

Q)What was your murder weapon?

014 — what a bold question

It was a bottle.

013 — haha, I'll humour you for this one

Hmmmm...... My words, maybe? I've been told i have quite a sharp tongue

Q)What was your family like?

014 — kind, resilient. They were wonderful. I

loved them

013 — they're ok.

Which prisoner do you get along with the least?

014 — mr mukuhara. Nothing against him, he just reminds me of someone.

013 — …Kusunoki. No reason, but I do wish she'd stop trying to talk to me. It's annoying.

Q)How has your experience been within MILGRAM ?

014 — quite good, considering we're all in here for murder.

013 — uh… good? I still don't believe you saying we're all murderers.

Q)Do you have regrets?

014 — yes. I should have done something sooner

013 — no? I did argue with my brother recently, but it was nothing, really. I'll apologize and everything will be fine

Q)Is there a verdict you hope for?

014) all I hope for is your honest judgement. I want to see how you choose to judge

013) Well, since I don't think I've done anything… I'd hope to be forgiven, of course.

Who was your victim to you?

014) nothing.

013) eh? Warden, I don't know. We made a deal remember? You tell me!

What is your father like?

014) i dont consider him my father.

013) uh…he’s my dad. What more do you want me to say, really...

What do you think of the prisoner paired with you?

014) Shiratori? Not much opinion. I do wonder what he's done to be here, though.

013) Ms Kazuko..? Shes intimidating, if I'm being honest. Not scary, just...intimidating

[bravest]

two children slumped beside one another , a girl in yellow and a boy in blue . sleep does not come easily in the dark recesses of this wretched vessel ; beyond these mercifully unreachable spaces in the vents , cruel creatures hunt the both of them relentlessly .

six is a light sleeper . it's as if she's still braced to defend herself even in this rare , vulnerable state . she jerks and twitches beside him , occasionally outright stirring with a staggered gasp - only to take a minute to let her breathing even , before leaning back again , eyelids drooping .

snatched moments of slumber to offset exhaustion - it is a disadvantage that they cannot afford when the odds are already stacked against them in this place .

there are no dreams here , only nightmares . resting is not a reprieve from torment , not altogether ... but at least these dreams are only a falsified rendition of the evils pursuing them .

runaway is no stranger to being haunted and tormented as he sleeps .

sometimes , he is swimming , and a shrivelled hand clutches at his ankle with the same vice - like unforgivingness that the shackle clamped around the other does . a haggard prune of a woman grins up at him toothily from the murky depths , her dark , sunken eyes twinkling with malice as she pulls her captured prey down , down , down into the disgusting water . he screams , and cries out , and thrashes . the icy cold of the water's embrace paralyses him and fills his lungs . his heart beats quick and fast in his chest . he feels weaker by the moment , and -

... and what ? he's not sure . usually , he'll jerk awake in a cold sweat , tears running down his pallid visage , the terror still fresh even as he slowly registers that it was only a nightmare . the aftermath of the dream encounter is always left hanging ... vague , cryptic . unknown . but easy enough to assume . that witch probably ate him , like he was nothing more than one of her rotten fish heads discarded from the kitchens .

sometimes , he is back in the dormitory again . laying awake , staring up at the ceiling , countless other children tossing and turning in the beds around him . yet he feels all alone .

the shackle clutches at his ankle . it's heavy , and it cuts harshly into his skin , and it hurts . roger potters around , the death rattle of his breathing and the shuffling of his feet as unnerving as ever ... without warning , the janitor reaches into his bed , and plucks him from the covers . he covers runaway's mouth so he can't scream , and he grips him so tightly when the boy attempts to bite his fingers that breathing becomes even more of an impossibility . a punishment for impudence .

he soon falls limp in the monster's grasp , and becomes acutely aware of his little body being set down ... resting against something soft once again . for a brief , incredulous moment , he wonders if he's simply been taken back to bed ; extended a mercy from a man he thought incapable of such a thing . but then those long , spindly fingers reach across , and begin to bundle him up in ... bandaging ?! wrapping him up ... almost like - like a parcel of meat ... like a dead body -

... and his fate thereafter is another mystery . there is no finality , no last breath taken - he jolts awake , his breathing laboured and heavy and deliberate , as if to make up for the way he was smothered in his dream .

yet there is one dream that has an ending . one that unsettles him in a way that is not so easily shaken . he expects cruelty from the overgrown workers that occupy this ship . but there is something far more sinister about this particular fabrication of his mind . more hurtful . it sets him on edge though he tries to dismiss it as nothing more than some cruel trick , or irrational paranoia .

he's seen the way she eats . salivates . hunger seems to reduce her to something almost primal . six curls over in physical agony as her starved stomach growls . her little legs tremble and almost buckle under her as she staggers forward . he helps her . holds her hands , guides her forward , encourages her to lean on him while they seek out something to tide over this fresh new pang of hunger .

in his dreams , he feels ... strangely small , and six is bigger . not as big as a monster , but bigger all the same ... it's - all wrong .

she's shambling towards him , her face cast in shadow , and he's looking up at her concernedly , unable to read her expression ... but he knows these jerky , laboured movements . what torment is wracking her . he turns and plucks from heaps of food a sausage , proffering it in an earnest extension of help . her starved phalanges reach out , splay open . the boy shuffles forward to close the already incremental space between them , allow her the easiest access possible to the sustenance in his arms ,

she leaps at him with a terrifying suddenness , a ferocity , she pins him down , cutting her nails into his flesh , he's trying to cry out , but he - he can't ! he's trying to push her off , but he's so weak ... he can't even plead . he's - voiceless . why ? please ... he's looking up at her for any sign of recognition , or remorse , he finds none . her teeth sink unforgivingly into his flesh .

she bites . she tears , pulling away his flesh . she chews . consumes . he feels every agonising second as her teeth cut through his skin and sinew and meat , suckling on him , spittle and drool dripping across his languishing frame . he whimpers . he cries . he thrashes weakly , but she won't let up - she's killing him . draining the life out of him , devouring him . like a cat chewing up a canary . something warm and wet pours from his gaping wound ... the hole carved into his chest by six's maw .

he feels himself die . blackness seeps in , and she stands over him , fading from his vision ...

" why - ?! "

he finally hears his voice cut through the air , strangled and shaky with raw panic . six is still beside him , her expression crumpled with a faint bewilderment , and he's still beside her . but things are right again . she's smart ; quick to put two and two together , always .

" nightmare ? "

" ... "

he doesn't trust himself to speak . not yet . he nods mutely , swallows thickly . it takes every fibre of self - composure not to move away from her . distrust prickles beneath his skin , seeking to furrow straight into his heart and make a home there .

but he mustn't let it .

" mmm . b - bad one . "

" well . there's no such thing as a good one . " she deadpans . six struggles with this , he knows . extending comfort . general reassurance . a lot of nowhere's children are ; it's all but an alien concept here .

" no , there's not . " he hugs his knees to his chest . he can't meet her gaze . " the worst one , then . "

" ... you want to tell me ? "

" ... no . 's'okay . it's - already going away , anyway . i won't remember soon ... and - i don't want to . "

liar . it isn't going anywhere . it haunts him more than any other . the monsters were never to be trusted . but six ...

[quietblueriver]

Don't Ever Turn It Down (Ch. 1)

Set in the same universe as That Lilith Voice Inside My Head. Beatrice is a lawyer. Ava is in marketing. They fall in love.

________________________________________________________

Beatrice is settling in her new office when she hears a loud laugh through her open door. She thinks, absently, as she unpacks her diplomas and the few personal items she keeps at work, that it’s lovely. It’s followed moments later by a knock, and Beatrice turns from placing a small prayer plant on one of the bookshelves lining the wall behind her desk to see Camila, smiling widely and holding two cups of coffee. 

She’s not alone. That, in itself, is not a surprise. Camila had asked if it was okay for her to bring company when they made plans for lunch today. Beatrice had assumed she meant Lilith, because she always means Lilith. Or, she had before today. The woman behind Camila is possibly the most beautiful person Beatrice has ever seen, and Beatrice is not prone to hyperbole. She’s wearing a large tweed blazer over a white t-shirt tucked into high-waisted jeans, and her hair, cut above her shoulders, is a little bit wild as it largely escapes a bun. She’s grinning at Beatrice as though they’re close friends, genuine happiness in her expression and generally radiating from her, and she waves eagerly with the arm not holding a cup of iced coffee as she stops just short of Beatrice’s desk. It’s incredibly disarming. Beatrice blinks. Blinks again. When their eyes meet, her smile grows somehow bigger and she bounces on her toes for a moment, wincing a little when a small amount of her iced coffee lands on the sleeve of her blazer. The smile is back quickly, though, and she shrugs at Beatrice with one shoulder. Inexplicably, Beatrice’s stomach swoops. 

“Beatrice!” Camila comes in for a hug, sitting one of the coffees on Beatrice’s desk and stepping around a box to wrap an arm around Beatrice’s waist. Beatrice reflexively does the same, grateful to find her limbs still work, and forces herself to look at her friend instead of continuing to stare. She’s wearing dark green pants and her ever-present converse, white today, with a color-blocked cardigan. Beatrice is glad she chose not to wear her full suit, feels overdressed enough in her navy dress pants and light blue button-down. 

Her eyes drift back to the other woman as Camila says, “This is my friend, Ava. Ava, this is Beatrice, who as you can see is a real person.” She squeezes Beatrice’s waist and says, “Ava has had doubts about your existence given how much I talk about you and how little you actually appear.” It’s said without malice but Beatrice blanches anyway. She hates having been such an absent friend. Camila presses her head to Beatrice's shoulder briefly; she's known Beatrice long enough to know what she's thinking. “Of course, she wouldn’t have had to doubt if you hadn’t had to cancel on basically everything fun over the last year because your stupid bosses had no respect for your life. Have I mentioned today that I am very excited that you’ve left that disaster of a job? You can’t get away from me now, you know. I get to bother you at work and in the life you’ll be able to have outside of work, too. I’m starting now. Well, I’m starting in like 30 minutes. One of the developers is having an issue and wants to talk so I’ll have to step out for a few. Sorry, he texted literally as we got off of the elevator, and I’m managing the project, so I am on call for things like this. I swear I’ll be quick.” She pauses briefly to put her own coffee down next to the cup she’d already placed on the desk and wrap a second arm around Beatrice for a full side hug.

“Anyway, we brought coffee because we were thinking Vietnamese and it’s a bit of a walk, if that’s okay? Lil is going to meet us there. Oh, I’m so glad you’re here.” She presses back into Beatrice's shoulder and rocks their bodies side to side in a demonstration of enthusiasm. Beatrice catches her arm across the front of her body and holds it to her, familiar feelings of warmth toward her friend giving her a reprieve from her ridiculous reaction to Ava. Unfortunately, when she looks up, she finds Ava wearing a fond expression, the corners of her eyes crinkled slightly, and when she catches Beatrice’s eye, whatever normalcy she’d found in Camila’s affection flees at the force of the smile now being directed her. Her stomach clenches. 

Beatrice knows that she has been given a cue to speak. Several, in fact. Camila has introduced her to someone and asked her a question about her preferences for lunch. She has also characterized herself as a bother, which Beatrice wants to correct, even if she’s aware it was a joke. Beatrice, as a functioning adult who has in fact had human conversation before, should be able to address all three of these things. She finds herself embarrassingly incapable of doing so. 

The hand Camila still has around her squeezes gently at her waist in what Beatrice is sure is concern. She is not often flustered, and her failure to respond immediately to the introduction is a sure giveaway that she is not operating at full capacity. There are a few things from her upbringing that she willingly keeps with her, one of which is the importance of being respectful, of being, when possible, polite. Currently, she’s failing miserably for no real reason. It’s unacceptable. 

She triages. Minimally, she can say hello. She wants to say hello. She lifts the hand not around Camila’s waist and mechanically raises it, holds it stiffly in the air next to her body, elbow at a right angle and fingers pressed together. Some part of her brain was surely attempting to mirror Ava’s enthusiastic greeting. What she has done instead could, generously, be considered a cousin to a wave, but Beatrice has never been generous with herself. She looks like she’s taking the oath of office. She looks like she’s directing traffic. She looks like an absolute idiot. 

“Hi.”

Heat rushes to her face. She can feel Camila’s eyes boring into her but she will not look at her. She shifts her hand just slightly to Beatrice’s back and...pats it gently, reassuring Beatrice as someone might reassure a shy child meeting someone new. She finds it, despite herself, to be comforting and is grateful that Camila is gracious enough to have made the gesture subtly and out of Ava’s eyesight. She’s very glad Lilith is meeting them at the restaurant, can almost hear her, in derision and delight, assessing Beatrice: What the fuck is wrong with you?

It’s a fair question. She hasn’t felt this way since she was a teenager and Ali Brewer smiled at her for the first time. She had tripped on nothing in the hallway on the way to calculus. Even then, Beatrice was working on her second black belt and had already (begrudgingly) been in ballet for a decade. She did not trip. But she did for Ali, and now, it seems, she’s tripping for Ava as well. Beatrice quickly moves her hand back down, and Ava mercifully speaks, leaning a hip against the side of the desk and still grinning at Beatrice, something new—amusement?—dancing in her eyes. 

“Hi." It's tinged with, yes, amusement, but she's kind and moves on quickly. "So great to finally meet you. And, yeah, to be totally transparent, I did tell Cam that I was skeptical but I also might have, a few times on our last project, suggested to Lilith that she made you up to make it seem like she had a friend who wasn’t her girlfriend and that poor Cam was going along with it out of love.” At the noise of protest Camila emits, she says easily, “You know you would. Plus, she deserved it, and it was a fun bit.”

Beatrice lets out a laugh, surprising herself and delighting Ava, based on the expression that spreads across her face. She feels Ava’s smile like a sense of pride, which is absurd. Recalling her Rosey the Robot impression of moments ago, Beatrice is reminded that absurd is a relative term, and she’ll take pride over idiocy any day. She flexes the fingers of her free hand to get rid of some of her nervous energy, relaxes her shoulders with an intentional deep breath. This is comfortable territory—making fun of Lilith has put her at ease for most of her life at this point. This, she knows how to do. 

“Actually, maybe we could keep it going?” Her eyes glint and Beatrice admires the way the natural light in her office makes the brown of her irises even brighter. “I can pretend not to see you at the restaurant and act confused every time she speaks to you.”

“I’m in.” She says it without hesitation and she is relieved that she sounds like herself and not someone who had two minutes ago been totally uncertain of how to move her own arms. 

Camila unwraps herself from Beatrice and flicks her shoulder before moving around the desk to do the same to Ava. “Hey. Be nice. Both of you.” She sighs a little and smiles. “The two of you are going to be a problem for her.” 

“She shouldn’t dish it out if she can’t take it, Cam.” Ava waves her hands in the air carelessly as she teases. Well, she attempts to wave her hands in the air carelessly. What she actually does is wave one hand and spill coffee on her white shirt with the other. She groans at herself. “Well this is embarrassing. And cold. Karmic justice? Or, oh, did Lilith curse me?” She waggles her eyebrows at Beatrice and accepts another flick from Camila in penance. “Wait, no. I’ve always been like this.” She shrugs sheepishly and looks down at her shirt again. “I have a spare in my office. Black. Which is clearly what I should’ve started with but like, gotta stay optimistic, right? Anyway, hi, hello, real-person Beatrice. Very pumped for our future work together messing with Lilith. How’s your first day going?” 

She’s genuine and self-deprecating, and Beatrice is…charmed. Ava is beautiful in a way that makes Beatrice behave like a teenager but she’s also incredibly likable. Dangerously likable, maybe, but Beatrice lets that thought fall away as she watches Ava pull slightly at the fabric of her shirt as if maybe that will fix the stain. Ava is a real person. Beatrice is a real person. Beatrice the real person can do this. 

“Hello, also-real Ava. Always happy to have company in mocking Lilith. We can exchange notes—this has been a hobby of mine for nearly two decades now.” At this Ava moves her hands again, possibly to clap in excitement, but stops herself quickly, before the motion gets away from her. She puts her coffee down on Beatrice’s desk and darts her eyes between the coffee cup and Beatrice, eyebrows raised and face full of pride. Beatrice, who believes strongly in positive reinforcement, gives her a thumbs up. She barely has time to want to crawl under her desk (today maybe Beatrice is prone to hyperbole) before Ava laughs and claps, taking a half-bow. Beatrice has managed somehow to do exactly the right thing, and she smiles widely, does not bother to restrain herself the way she normally would around a relative stranger. “Thank you, thank you. I can learn.” 

Camila is looking between them with interest, and Beatrice has no desire to let that continue uninterrupted, so she’s speaking again. “Very impressive. Well done you.” Ava’s smirk lets her know the sarcasm is fine. “And my first day is going well, thank you, although I haven’t done much more than meet with HR and sign paperwork and unpack a few things. They very kindly wanted to give me time to get settled.” 

“See? Better gig already. I’ll say it again—I could not be more relieved that you’re out of that place and I could not be happier that you’re here.” Camila’s phone sounds and she looks at the screen and sighs. “I have to run back to my office to take this call—I’m afraid he’ll need me to take a look at the code—but it won’t be more than twenty minutes, promise. Ava, I can stop by your office and grab your extra shirt so you don’t have to go back down. Unless you want to?” 

“Nah, I’d rather stay and keep Beatrice company. If that’s okay?” Beatrice manages to nod and smile and maintains almost every bit of her composure at the look she receives in response. “Thanks, Cam. Bottom left drawer, where the Advil is.”  With a wave at them both, Camila steps into the hallway, closing Beatrice’s door behind her. 

Ava adjusts her body slightly where she has leaned back against the desk and Beatrice is reminded of the fact that both of the chairs in front of her are currently full of boxes of law books. She moves immediately to fix this. 

“I’m so sorry. Let me move these. Please sit.” 

She picks up one of the boxes and starts toward the small table that takes up the left side of her office but she doesn’t make it more than a step before Ava protests, “I’m totally fine. Promise. Want help unloading, or do you have a whole system?” Her smile is teasing, and she immediately answers her own question with a fond lilt, “You definitely have a system.” 

The interaction is easier, maybe, than it should be given that they’ve only just met, but Beatrice is strangely pleased at the familiarity, even as she feels herself blush. Given that she’s likely been one shade of red or another for most of this encounter, she’s not certain if Ava will even notice. “Yes, I do. But…” Ava dips her head in encouragement. Beatrice sighs and puts the box back in the chair. “But I’ve already organized everything so that it can be unpacked easily. There are…small numbered post-it tabs on the spine of each one with backups on the inside cover.”

“Wow, yes, I love it.” She steps away from the desk and toward one of the boxes, bending slightly to look at the cover of a book and clasping her hands together in front of her as though she’s preparing to do something very interesting. She picks up one of the constitutional law texts and holds it with surprising care. “Put me to work, boss.” 

They make their way through the boxes quickly, because Beatrice is exceptionally well-organized and efficient, and move to the chairs by Beatrice’s desk to talk. Ava is listening, brow furrowed and leg bouncing in what Beatrice is almost certain is a sign of a tendency toward kinesthetic learning rather than boredom, as Beatrice talks about the intersections of gender and the law. She’s been on a tangent, but Ava asked about the book from her class, and then about Beatrice’s favorite part of the class, and then kept asking thoughtful questions. Typically, Beatrice would be hesitant to take up this much time and space, but she finds it surprisingly easy to lose herself in conversation with Ava, even catching herself making emphatic hand motions that she would normally suppress on instinct. She’s comfortable, in large part due to Ava, who has over the last twenty minutes or so leaned the smallest amount into Beatrice’s space anytime she hesitated, afraid she was being too much or too boring, and looked at her like she was about to say the most interesting thing on earth. 

She stops talking when she spots Camila in the doorway, and Ava frowns at the disruption. Ava does it so genuinely, is so clearly actually displeased that Beatrice has stopped her explanation of the notice and comment process and what it means for Title IX. Beatrice's chest tightens with affection and something else; gratitude, she thinks, though that's not quite it. She's watching Ava, who appears to be somewhat consoled when she sees it’s Camila. She hands Ava a black t-shirt and then comes to stand beside Beatrice. Beatrice, who, despite herself, despite Ava’s reassurances, despite that perfect frown, still feels the need to apologize. This uncertainty about her own value is one of the many things from her parents that she's working to leave behind. “I’m sorry. I feel like that was probably more than what you wanted to know about Title IX.” 

Ava shakes her head and finds Beatrice’s eyes, keeps them as says with a surprisingly serious tone, “Nope. Definitely want to buy you a beer and make you tell me more about literally all of that. If you’re interested in talking about it, I mean. I know maybe it’s like work? I’d also like to talk to you about other things.” In a role reversal that has Beatrice feeling a small spark of hope, Ava turns very subtly pink. 

“No, no. I’d love to talk more about it. And about other things.” She means it. She wants to keep talking to Ava, wants to create opportunities for Ava to speak about herself. She wants to know her, so she is brave for a moment and says so. “I’d like to hear more about you.” The pink becomes less subtle. She’s beautiful.

Camila, delighted, says, “Yay! I knew you would get along. Sorry again about the interruption but,” she eyes Beatrice’s bookshelves and then the two of them with about a teaspoon of subtlety, “it looks like you two were productive. Ready to eat? Ava, we can stop at the bathroom for you to change. I’ll text Lilith.” Ava is up and moving toward the door with an enthusiastic nod, pondering her options for lunch aloud and wondering, without any hint of shame in her voice, if she should “even bother changing my shirt before we eat because, y’know.”

As Beatrice moves to follow her, Camila squeezes her elbow. When Beatrice turns, both of her eyebrows are raised and her smile is all too knowing. Her cheeks flush, again, and she shakes her head lightly. She knows she’ll be hearing more about this later but for now, Camila accepts her silence, linking their arms together and moving them toward the door. 

[toku-explained]

The Blazing Siblings and ill-fated love in Kyoto

Blazar: Kaiju have been reappearing where they died, passing through things, then been attacked by a cloaked figure wielding a large sword and vanishing. Gento goes to the former Novaio site to try and best the phenomenon, only for the figure to appear, make Leviera appear, cut it down, and taking in his true form, introduce himself as Zangill, requesting an audience. He states Gento:s ability to see his true face is due to the power within, his speech is influenced by samurai, and he explains the Kaiju are ghosts he helps to move on. Once a reckless warrior challenging all he came across, a certain swordsman defeated him, and tasked him with helping 108 souls move on. Unfortunately, the last one managed to absorb power from the crystal he uses to make them appear, retaking physical form, and he wants Blazar's help to stop it. Gento is informed by Teruaki of Nijikagachi reappearing, and rushes off, Zangill following to try and be allowed to help. It's current state renders Nijikagachi immune to terrestrial bombardment, Zangill confers on the Chilsonite Sword the ability to damage Nijikagachi. As Earth Garon is arriving, Zangill bisects Nijikagachi, only for it to possess him, Blazar is eventually able to force it out, and together they defeat the energy. Zangill has completed his task, but reveals he too is a spirit, unable to pass on until this task is completed, and passes on, leaving Gento behind.

Gotchard: Gotchard continues fighting the Malgam and uses GoldMechanichanidor to defeat the Malgam and secure JungleJan. Afterwards, Kajiki arrives, distraught over seeing Hijiri with who he assumes to be her boyfriend. Minato informs Ichijose and Kudoh of the other man on the prison transport, likely also a malgam, suspected serial arsonist Himeno Tsurugi, Hijiri's brother. Kudoh decides to handle Kajiki, having Renge and Sabimaru come along, leaving Ichinose with Minato. Hijiri recalls seeing the hitodama to Tsurugi, who doesn't remember it as well. Kudoh attempts haunted house therapy, but Kajiii only calms down when he accidentally hears a news broadcast about Tsurugi, first calming down on learning it was her brother, then running off realising she is in danger. Hijiri explains she always knew Tsurugi was innocent, no way her kind brother could be an arsonist. Except he admits he did them. Always praised for raking care of her, stress built up, the thing he remembers from that night is the paper lantern burning up, he came to find the sight of burning calming. Hijiri cannot believe it, as he merges with RaiDenji, wanting her gone, and ignites gasoline he setup around her. Gothcard rushes in and gets her out the fire before engaging the malgam. Kajiki and the others arrive later, Hijiri is too shocked by her world burning down around her to move, as Kajiki finally sees the rumoured Kamen Rider. More fires are triggered, the alchemists try find HiikEscue among their cards. Kajiki yells encouragement to Kamen Rider, who gains his second wind, and is lent HiikEscue and FlayRose, becoming HiikesRose. Dousing the flames and defeating the Malgam, he tries to catch RaiDenji, but it is snatched by someone else's malice. Hijiri, now broken by the revelation of her brother, becomes a Malgam and tries to destroy him, attacking with force enough to melt the Alchemist Rings when they interfere. Gotchard fights to prevent Hijiri becoming a murderer and switches to GoldMechanicnor. He's able to use GoldDash to act as a lightning rod, resisting to an extent the damage, but he refuses to just separate the Chemy, as Hijiri's heart needs saving too, and only one person there can do that. As Kajiki goes to Hijiri, Minato does some quick work to restore the rings enough that they can shield him, as he reminds her that even if her brother has failed her, her earnest love and belief in the supernatural, the same as his, is something real Tsurugi cannot take from her, getting through to her enough Gotchard can now save her. Clotho goes to deal with her business, while Tsurugi, while being taken away, admits to Hijiri that he did see the hitodama. Minato waits 30 minutes so Kajiki and Hijiri can have their time, and they spot the UFO chemy and hold hands excitedly, and then the mind wipe hits, and they both, with no feeling, let go and walk away from eachother, as Clotho captures UFO-X, the level 10 chemy, and has also acquired samples from JungleJan and RaiDenji. Next day Kaijiki again feels he forgot something important. Kudoh points out to Ichijose that he's about to pass Hijiri, but naturally, there is no reaction, Ichinose again bemoaning the rules. Except Hijiri suddenly stops and calls back, asking if the magazine he holds is the same one she wrote to once. And so for the second time, there is a fateful encounter between Kajiki Ryo and Himeno Hijiri, one that promises not to end in Heartbreak.

Kingohger: Himeno surprises everyone by announcing a marriage selection, while the others feel this isn't the time. Romane Dearborn, heir to the Dearborn Duke Dukedom arrives, he is a man so beautiful women faint at the sight of him, and who viewed this beauty as a curse, intending to maim or kill himself one day when Himeno stopped him and encouraged him to pledge that beauty to her, and so he swore to one say be her consort. Himeno doesn't remember this but selects him for the candidates alongside Gira, Yanma, Rita and Jeramie, but due to both the age difference and his awareness of Yanma's feelings, Jeramie withdraws. In truth though, this Himeno is Kamejin, having, disguised as Sebastian, lured her to the cell where Elegance and ither doctors have been poisoned, she attacks him, claiming it was frustration instead of seeing through him, and he poisons and locks her up too. The first phase is a dance, Gira is terrible, Yanma freezes due to nerves and is puppeted by Jerajie, Rita does okay and tries to ask if Himeno is being threatened, before Himeno can stab them Romane cuts in. As Himeno and Elegance are weakening, Bugnarok burst into their cell, then knocked out by Cleo, there to rescue her Queen. The second phase is to use sweet words to move her heart, Gira yells at her, Yanma bottles it and becomes angry at Jeramie's help, Rita is trying to be Moffun as Himeno readies poison, but the true Himeno interferes. Kamejin claims the Ohger Caliber is proof he is Queen, but Romane cuts in, steals it and returns itmto his Queen, for he is, of course, Sebastian. The story was a little manufactured for the pledge to her was one of duty, as her retainer, Sebastian, she told him even if he looked different his heart was important, the consideration was the most beautiful thing about him. Himeno has already cured the poison, and her words prove she is the true Himeno. Together they fight off Kamejin, truly liberating Ishabana, and Kaguragi comes to ask for help with Toufu, while Sebastian confirms to Himeno that the is happy, it is only as Sebastian he has been able to be himself.

[meteodrives]

the mental list she had put together seemed to have hit a lull upon cloud’s arrival, almost as if it were a holiday. his time by her side had been limited exponentially, visits few & far between. he disappeared without a word, rarely staying long enough to enjoy a meal. she assumed he had his reasons, but that didn’t dispel any frustrations — all of which stemming from concern. he was capable, if not childishly so ;  even if he left for weeks on end, there'd be not a drop of his blood staining him.  ( at least ,  none that could not have been washed away . )  that didn’t mean he was free from her commentary, slipping ever so often ;  but not a trace of malice could be detected in her words. 

          upon being greeted with his approach, his being as solemn as one could be, she turned her entire body to face him. he was geared to leave once again, it seemed. perhaps he'd part with a goodbye or a see you later this time. with no intentions to convince him of otherwise keeping about, knowing it would result in failure & a vague excuse, she’d wait for the day he did pick up the phone — the day he did tell her the truth.

❛  think you could  —  ��   the thought was lost against abrupt vulnerability. 

   𝙲𝙻𝙾𝚄𝙳   :      

it was a day the geostigma he kept covered beneath a sleeve was getting to him. surely that was to blame for the thoughts & memories of the entirety of his life rushing through his mind. from his childhood of when he used to rush out his door just to burst into tifa's so they could play together, always hoping to get there before the other children, to when he'd left nibelheim behind to watching midgar, a place he learned to call home, become destroyed by weapon & meteor alike. cloud knows he's a terrible person who's done terrible things in the name of good for one one. this knowledge isn't enough to reset how his brain has been conditioned to work. through it all, he can still recognize tifa is trying to reach a part of his humanity cloud does not believe is there. guilt weighs heavy on him ;  he never could be what she wanted him to be — no matter how they both wanted it.

he silently approaches her & takes her into his arms for an embrace.

i'm sorry.

          the sudden contact was startling, but not unwelcomed. it’s in the split second before that she found herself battling against every pent - up emotion. the stress of uncertainty, the anger that seemed to have faded into grief & acceptance — even that little bit of joy was not safe from turmoil, overwhelming her with each shaky breath. it was embarrassingly quick how easily her arms reciprocated the gesture, allowing her strength to go unchecked as her mind refocused itself to the present.  ( peace ,  even if it would go without a reason  —  even if the cause would never be revealed down the line . )

clarity hit, a tender heart having grown tired of fighting against itself. had it been a few minutes? maybe daring to extend for an hour? there was no way of knowing. time had blurred itself together, merely grateful for the comfort to have been provided. whatever it was to prompt his sudden, earnest deed, it was followed with a silence that could’ve been studied for its foreboding yet forgiving nature.  ( speak ,  her mind urged  —  unaware of the bruising just endured . )  not one set of words could convey her thoughts in an honest nature. she feared that had always been the case. yet, he hadn’t been driven away entirely, leading to the suspicion this was his way of telling her that a moon phase or several was needed. a period of contemplation :  alone. tifa pulled herself away from him, no tears having been shed — saved for a later date ;  yet there were signs of a break that tried to emerge itself. a sniffling & reddened nose, a racing heart, the lump in her throat that felt like knives swallowing down. 

          ❛  cloud  …  ❜   she began, her own voice startling her. it felt foreign, croaking from lack of use. a million & one options of how to complete the statement came to mind :  you should stay for dinner! ,  can you tell me what’s going on? ,  when do you think you’ll be back? ,  & so on. one thing, however, took the forefront of her thoughts.   ❛  you’ve  …  gotta go again ,  huh ?  ❜   ( silence crossed them once more ,  just as bittersweet . )   ❛  be safe out there &  ...  thank you .  ❜   she wouldn't fight against it this time but would spare a moment in the near future to leave a voicemail in regards. 

*      ◞      @shinramade            |​            unprompted !

[black-rose-writings]

Reading Siege and Storm because I hate myself

To begin, I’d like to state that this is my first read-through and I only have vague idea of the plot I’ve gathered from fanfics and tumblr posts.

Long post ahead

Chapter 1

So... at first I was like - huh, this isn’t as bad as I thought, but the moment Alina gets introspective, it all goes to hell.

Like, she’s being physically made sick by not using her powers, which is making her feel useless - like, she says, pretty much verbatim: “The only thing I was ever good at was being a Sun Summoner and I’m not that anymore.”

I’m gonna beat those paragraphs over the head of anyone, who says Alina got a good ending.

I’ve also noticed just how often the like “I pushed that thought away” is used and more often than not, it’s used on thoughts that should probably not be pushed away.

Ah, yes, here he comes, my boy Darkles, being the dramatic bitch he always is. We get it, you’re the hot villain, tempting the good and pure heroine away from being good and pure.

And I’m just now realizing how many times in this chapter has Alina lamented their lack of privacy. We have to ensure the reader doesn’t hink she’s *gasp* sleeping with Mal.

Chapter 2

What?

Alina is tripping balls while being put under by a Heartrender, got it.

Darkling is being the voice of reason, but I’m getting the distinct feeling it won’t last.

Ivan gets one point, because Alina is in fact a traitor, but he’s also being a cunt, so it doesn’t really count.

Alina at Sturmhond: Do you even care about Ravka?

Me at Alina: Do you?

Chapter 3

“Mermaids are not real”. I’m pretty sure they are in the Grishaverse.

My boy Darkles is still making sense, but Alina is dedicated to being against him just for the hell of it, it seems.

Did this bitch just throw a tantrum, because he told her, what we can assume is the truth? Okay. Like, I get that she’s at best 18, but still. Not exactly the type of protagonist whose head I like being in.

And in that moment, dozens of smut fics were born.

Chapter 4

Wow, that was quick.

Aaand. What had just happened?

Chapter 5

Sturmhond is a funny bitch, I’ll give him that.

And this entire conversation, it seems like Mal’s entire purpose is to stand behind Alina threateningly and repeat what she said, lol.

I’d like to remind Alina (and LB) that a king in an absolutist monarchy (which is what Ravka appears to be) is very much a tyrant. Don’t make it sound like Ravka didn’t have a tyrant before. And at the very least, my boy Darkles seems pretty competent.

A man calling himself a Storm Dog likes dogs. No shit.

Chapter 6

I hate Mal. Dude, this is your girlfriend, maybe like... listen to her? Don’t bludgeon her with the one other guy she was kinda-sorta with, when you are a well known manwhore?

I don’t know man, I don’t like him.

Everyone: You can’t have more than one amplifier, it’s dangerous.

Alina: Haha, sparkles go brrrr

Chapter 7

In other news, pirates are funny.

Holy shit, they have a plane.

That was... a lot. And we’re crossing the Fold again, yay.

Chapter 8

You feel bad for the Volcra but not for the people you’ve left for dead in the Fold last time? Okay.

Baby Volcra. Am I supposed to say “ew” or “aww”? If I tried doing both at the same time, it would probably sound like one.

Jesus fucking Christ this book is a ride.

Did Alina really just have an “oh no, he’s hot?” moment? *sighs*

Puppy boy has a title longer than Daenerys, jesus.

Alina, my dear, you could have waited for a bit before doing that. There’s like thirty soldier with guns around you and you’ve just punched a prince.

Then again, you’ve never been smart, have you?

Chapter 9

For once, I completely agree with him. I know you two have lost your one shared braincell on that first crossing of the Fold but still, that was very dumb of you, Alina.

I’m starting to get why people were calling Nikolai “Darkling light”. Definitelly seems appropriate.

Mal, calm the fuck down, that was the least romantic proposal I’ve ever heard and you know it.

You two didn’t even let Alina get a word in for the last page. What right do you have to her, Mal, huh? Nikolai is making sense and you’re being an idiot.

What’s your deal Mal? What the fuck do you want?

And why in the hell are you the endgame love interest?

That’s an awful lot of guilt-tripping you’re doing there, Mal. No need to be pissy about it.

Chapter 10

The bones thing is definitelly yikes.

Saints, Mal, are you on your period or something? Alina doesn’t belong to you. Alina can make her own choices. Get a grip.

“You think I’m like the Darkling?” Yes. The Darkling isn’t all bad. You’re at war. No need to get your panties in a twist over a few fingers.

Oh, look, Alina has a cult now, nice.

Chapter 11

Your “dad” is a rapist, Nikolai. Quite possibly a pedo. He got exactly what he deserved.

I’d go for the second option. Especially after that stunt. Jesus, you could have asked her beforehand.

At least Darkles had the decency to make out with her in private.

Also like... why is every single person in this series so far an asshole?

Chapter 12

We meet the King again, unfortunately.

Alina gets Darkles’s old job.

This should be a total disaster, but let’s see where it goes anyway.

Chapter 13

Alina’s nuts, yay.

(I know they have a Force-bond-thingy. I also know they did it before Reylo did.)

Chapter 14

Oh boy, Alina’s not doing as bad as I thought.

For the 100th time in this book, I wish I had Nikolai’s confidence. Though it is getting a bit too much.

Puppy boy is dropping some truth bombs. Nice.

But he doesn’t realize that my boy Darkles has very good reasons to not align with Fjerdans - a) they think he’s a demon and b) they want Grisha dead.

I’m not gonna say she was, but like... the monarchy is very much corrupt.

Oh, boy, Baghra. This one’s gonna go well.

Yep, Baghra’s as pleasant as ever.

So... Baghra’s plan in book 1 really had been to just have Alina run away and hope for the best? Jesus Christ, lady. I’m not saying she deserved to have her eyes taken away, but she is definitelly a trash person and I’m not surprised her son turned out the way he did.

Also, I’m fairly certain that Baghra is literally slowly killing herself - that the reason she looks so old and frail is because she’s started to supress her power and it’s literally killing her, because, you know, she’s bonkers old.

Chapter 15

Nerd Alina > Self-pitying Alina

Also, I’m just saying, Alina comments on Zoya being attractive a whole lot - I get that she’s meant to be insecure, but I’m interpreting it as her being gay, because I need some happiness in my life, okay?

Just kill the sleazy old Rasputin-wanna-be. There’s plenty of them to go around in this series.

Chapter 16

Vasily takes after his father in creep factor.

Why not the Darkling being courted by a horny prince? Be a bit creative.

Chapter 17

Nikolai has big ADHD energy and I love him for it. Fits right in with the heavily autism-coded Fabricators.

*sighs at heteronormativity again*

*sighs at improper gendering of titles*

Date night with Mal. This is gonna be a disaster, isn’t it?

Chapter 18

Fun night of cultural appropriation, yay.

I hate cultists.

LET. ALINA. GO. FERAL. Please.

You two are going to give me a headache, I swear.

Darkles cockblocking Alina. And Malice threw a tantrum. Nice.

Chapter 19

You’re way too harsh on Genya, Alina.

Horny Alina rights.

They have a laser, now. Cool. Or, well, enormously hot.

Mal is being a drunk a-hole. Great. When does he become likable? Does he ever?

Banter between Mal and Alina? Kinda weird, always somehow comes back to either of them being insecure.

Banter between Alina and Nikolai? I’m all for it. Don’t get me wrong, I’m still a Darklina trash, but like... Nikolai is fun. I could see him and Alina having an arranged political marriage and ending up falling in love years into it, that’s all I’m saying.

Chapter 20

Just let this one go, Alina, please. You two are not working out. Please, end it with him. You’ll both probably be happier. (I’m saying this with the full knowledge that Malina is endgame).

Jesus Alina, get your shit together. You have every right to be mad, because you two didn’t actually break up, you didn’t kiss Nikolai and also, I don’t like Mal.

Sooo... when is Alina going to realize her manchild of a boyfriend is an amplifier?

Chapter 21

Alina has the horny sickness, lol.

Jesus Christ, girl, I don’t want to read your vaguely suicidal thoughts.

Mal, you fucking idiot.

Alina, stop defending Mal.

Chapter 22

Alina has a logical thought? Impossible.

Finally, some action.

Chapter 23

Oh, boi, this is going great.

Oh, boi, Alina’s having another martyr moment.

And, we’re done.

Finally.

That was a ride. Nothing really happens for like ten chapters and then everything happens in one and a half.

[muffinrecord]

How many of your followers are male pedophiles who only retweet the fetishized/swimsuit outfits?

Okay so like... I'm going to use this message real quick to talk about something serious. I think this anon is actually mentally unwell.

I don't use that in the way the internet typically does, which is "you are doing something I don't like, which means you have a mental illness." I don't mean this as a mean joke. I mean this sincerely and with some concern.

This anon has been at this for a long time, and even before Magia Record was actually going. I remember them bitching about Sleepless Domain on reddit before (and I think they still do!) and they always stick with the same ideas: that the only reason anyone is interested in darker magical girl content (even when written by women) is because they're male pedophiles getting off of girl's suffering. They'll write other things too, like how the genre is "proving that little girls have no value beyond suffering" or "the only way a girl is worth something is if she suffers/dies/provides something for men." But in general, this is what it revolves around.

You can always tell that who the anon is because of this. They don't change tactics. They don't ask different things. They always assume that fans are male pedophiles or that you like the series because there is something wrong with you. They don't change from this script.

I can't diagnose someone over the internet-- for one, I'm not a doctor and two it's over the internet. You can't understand someone from the little bit that they show you online.

However, a lot of what this anon does strikes me as very black-and-white thinking, they are absolutely obsessive about certain topics, and they have really odd reactions. I've gotten angry at them twice now and insulted them directly and they've... never actually responded to it. They'll respond to a small portion of the argument, but they never actually address the fact that I insulted them. I find this kind of off-putting, and I'm starting to think that there is more going on here besides a hobby of hating dark magical girl genres and their fans.

It might be because I had to get mental help, to the point of being hospitalized, but this anon is making me wonder if something is going on there too.

Because think about this logically for a second-- this anon is trying to argue that most of my followers are pedophiles and are following me because... once year-ish, I post characters practically t-posing in swimsuit image compilations, as part of costume sets? They're calling girls standing around and wearing swimsuits fetish content. This is their argument.

Maybe you think they're just being a troll, but I don't think that's the case.

There are so many other things you can bitch about for Magia Record. For example, Akari Mai has a horrendous design (which I complained about on this blog!) but this anon has never so much as mentioned her, or characters like Himika, Leila, or Kokoro. This anon never talks about Iroyachi or any other hot-button topic that is sure to get people talking. They always complain about things that don't actually matter or are easily disproven.

They follow the blog enough to know that I'm posting costume sets, but they don't follow it enough to know what makes the fandom upset? Like I said, I don't think this is a troll.

So again-- I do genuinely think that something is going on with this person mentally upstairs. I say this with no malice, because I also have problems with my brain that cause me to act and talk in ways that are off-putting.

Anyways, I'm saying all of this because I've seen people accuse anon of being a terf or an "anti" (whatever the fuck that is) or whatever, and I think the answer is just that this person is mentally unwell.

I decided I would no longer respond to this person because I don't want to get angry or insult or belittle a human who is struggling with issues and not doing this because of actual malice. However, I don't think that's working. I'm still getting messages from them once in a while. They're still getting something out of sending me stuff like this.

So....

I'm going to be turning off the anonymous function of my ask box permanently. I apologize because I know a lot of people prefer to use anon (I do too), but I feel like I'm feeding this person and their issues by keeping it up.

Anyways, I'm writing all of this publicly because they'll probably target someone else if I close myself off. Hell, I know I'm not the only one they target already. So, if this person starts to contact you, please know it's not actually about you. They're not actually doing this because you've done anything. They would do this to anyone.

And don't get mad at them or insult them like I have. It doesn't actually do anything to fix the problem, and it's possible it could make their thoughts worse. We're not responsible for why this person is acting this way, but it doesn't mean we should bully them or let them bully us.

So-- anon, I'm sorry for not realizing what was going on sooner, and I'm sorry for insulting you. I had to get help too. A few years ago, I was in a mental hospital for a week and that is one of the reasons I'm alive today. I hope you can get help for yourself, because this is an awful way to live.

[iknowthekoolaidflavor]

Every Kind of Way

Prompt: On the way to a friend’s house, during a blizzard, you end up stuck in a cabin with Daveed’s family…or as I like to call it Rose doesn’t know how to finish her other projects, so she wrote something else

PART 6

LISTEN TO EVERY KIND OF WAY BY H.E.R.

Pairing: alpha!werewolf!daveed x omega!reader

Tagging: @wreakhavoconmacroissantdiggs @ramp-it-up @sebastianabucknettastan @wtfhell @sillyteecup

A/N: This chapter contains a little smut, but watch out for the next chapter. 

“Benji’s looking for more people to join him, so he can take you down”, Jasmine explained, “He wants Y/N back”

“Does anyone know she’s my soulmate?”

“Not that I’m aware of”

“Good. We need to keep it that way”

Daveed tensed on the couch. You were resting in his room upstairs, wrapped in all his blankets and scent. After making sure you were sound asleep, he came down when he heard Jasmine and Rafa come in. 

“I know it’s been fine with just the four of us, but we need more numbers. If he succeeds, how do we keep everyone safe?”, Rafa asked their leader

“You’re right”, Daveed sighs, getting off the couch, ready to hold you in his arms again, “We’ll have to make some moves in the morning. I won’t let him hurt her again”

You walked down the stairs the next morning to the smell of bacon. Anthony and Jasmine danced around each other in the kitchen, singing a song you failed to recognize. Rafa and Daveed sat in the living room going over who they know would fight if they asked. 

You greeted them both, speaking to Rafa and placing a kiss on Daveed’s forehead. You walked by them, ready to pull a book off the shelf when someone knocked on the door. 

“I’ve got it”

Daveed looked through the peephole, and the guest on the other side made him smile. He swung the door open and pulled the man in for a hug. 

“Oak! How’ve you been?”

“Pretty good. The baby is healthy. The pack is stronger than ever. I can’t complain”, Oak beamed, “But I’m here for you”

Daveed stepped aside and let him in. Oak greeted Jasmine, Anthony, and Rafa with giant hugs. Just as he was about to sit on the couch, he noticed you standing in the corner. 

“And who are you?”, Oak smiled as he held his hand out with a welcoming smile

“Y/N. Nice to meet you”, you grinned as you took his hand

Oak looked between you and Daveed, a knowing smirk spreading across his features. Daveed remained close to you when Oak entered the home. He trusted him, but another alpha from a different pack just entered his home. Old habits die hard. 

“That makes sense”, he laughed, “She’s your soulmate”

“How the hell did you know that?”

“I believed in soulmates long before you did, Diggs. I’ve also seen a thing or two after my brother found his”

Daveed took your hand and led you to the couch. In the past few days, you noticed little things about the way he treated you. For one, he always made sure there was space for you wherever he was sitting. Daveed moved over on the couch, giving you enough space to sit next to him. You wrapped your arms around him, leaning into him. 

It didn’t take long to realize Oak was beyond trustworthy. There wasn’t an ounce of malice in his heart. Oak grew tired of Benji’s shit, just like everyone else. His entire pack was ready to join the fight if need be. Most of them came inside from patrolling the area to greet their friends. Anthony pulled you away to meet everyone. It was nice meeting more alphas with good intentions. Daveed watched you from afar, greeting the pack that was mostly alphas. It made his skin crawl, but he knew you were in excellent hands. 

“I’ll do anything I can to keep Y/N safe”, Daveed began when he thought you were out of earshot, “I have to keep my soulmate safe. Y/N’s been through enough, and Benji will stop at nothing to get her back. If he lays one finger on her--”

“I’ll fucking end him”, Jasmine finished 

“I hope it won’t get to that point, but we’ll know what do when the time comes. What do you need from us?”, Oak offered 

Daveed prepared to go out with Oak. His pack was a start, but they still needed more help. 

“I hope I’ll be home soon. I’ll be back before you fall asleep”, he promised as he  kissed your cheek

“It’s okay. Be careful”

“I have to make it back to you, don’t I?”

Daveed pulled you in for a kiss as Rafa walked by. 

“Booooooo. Get a room”

You pulled away and watched Daveed chase him out the door, finally tackling him in the snow. 

He’ll be back, you promised yourself, but it still felt like he took a piece of you with him. When you turned to head to the kitchen, a room full of alphas, save for Anthony, were watching you. 

“They have questions”, Anthony laughed, “But you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to”

You sat on the floor next to the fireplace and let them know it was alright with you. 

“When did you realize Daveed was your soulmate?”

“The moment we made eye contact, it was clear who he was...even if I didn’t know what that meant at the time”

“You two haven’t...y’know?”

“No”, you stated, rubbing your neck, “Not yet. We want to take our time first”

“I’m glad you found an alpha that listens to you. Some people aren’t that lucky”, Leah started

“He really cares about you”, another alpha smiled, “He’d do anything for you”

“I know. It’s the little things that get me”, you boasted, “In the morning, he’s quick to make sure I have all the covers or he’s close to me because it’s so cold. He always makes sure there’s room for me”

With each moment, you felt your heart swell at the thought of being with him. He was yours; you were his. The alphas smiled as you took a moment to think about what you said. 

“We have to finish making lunch”, Anthony interjected, taking your hand

“How have I gone this long without realizing how much he already means to me?”, you started once you were in the kitchen

“You needed time”

“Did Daveed need time?”

“Hell no, the minute he knew you were his soulmate, he dived right in. Not that there’s anything wrong with doing the opposite”

"It’ll make for a great love story one day”, Anthony continued 

By the time Daveed and Oak returned, the house was quiet. You were sitting on his bed reading. Normally, you would stay in the room they provided for you, but the members of Oak’s pack needed a place to sleep. You also knew Daveed wouldn’t mind having you in his bed. 

Daveed marched up the stairs, swung his door open, and slammed it shut. When he noticed he had company, he straightened up, but his furrowed brow and frown remained the same. 

“It didn’t go well?”, you asked, pulling yourself off the bed

“Everything went as we planned. We have more numbers than we expected”

“I’m sensing a but”

You could feel his anxiousness when he stepped in the house. 

“We ran into Benji”

“What happened?”

You pulled him down and sat with him on the couch.

“Just taunting me...about you. It’s fine. He’s an ass. He thinks it’s okay to---”

“Don’t worry about him”, you stated calmly

Daveed was so far gone in his rant, he didn’t see you removing your clothes. He glanced at you before you had his complete attention. 

“Take a shower with me”

He stood up with at a loss for words, staring at your body. You slowly slid off his shirt, tracing his abdomen, then pulled off his pants and boxers. He followed you to the shower, watching as you bent over to get the water started. The scent of slick collecting between your thighs made his mind race with lustful thoughts of where you wanted to fuck you, but he knew he needed to hear it from you first. 

You stepped in the shower, pulling him in. Daveed tried with all his might not to think while watching the water cascade over your body. Washing himself up was the only way he could distract himself. As you did the same, you would occasionally brush against him, offering a small sorry, knowing that you weren’t. By the end, there was a small knot forming at the base of his cock. You leaned forward, turning the water off. You made sure your ass brushed against his knot, grinning when he froze and held back a groan. It’s been years since he’s been with anybody. He’s great with keeping himself in control, but the omega bent over in front of him was about to make him lose it. 

Daveed followed you to the bedroom. He kept up with small talk, assuming you were getting ready for bed. He sat down on the couch to pull on his shirt when you sat down on him, straddling his waist. Your body pressed against him, lips dangerously close to his. 

“Omega”, he groaned, voice hoarse

You pressed your slick covered entrance against his knot, leaving kisses against his cheek and forehead. You would go for his gland, but you needed a coherent answer from him. 

“Mark me”, the words you’ve been waiting to tell him all afternoon, fell out effortlessly

Daveed stared at you tentatively, rubbing your sides. 

“Are you sure you want this?”

“Of course I am”

Daveed stared at the swells of your breasts down to your pussy. You slowly rolled your hips against his cock, begging him to fuck you. 

"Alpha, please?”

That was all it took for Daveed to snap out of it. He picked you up and carried you to the bed, dropping you on the mattress. He kept himself positioned between your thighs, refusing to enter you. He nipped at your gland and your hips immediately rose off the bed, rubbing against his cock. You bit your lip to keep yourself quiet. Daveed bit down harder to watch you struggle. 

“I want to hear you Y/N. Want the whole house to know what I’m doing to you”

More slick dripped from between your thighs as he sucked the spot on your neck that’s been untouched for days. The moan that escaped your lips let the whole house know your alpha was about to take you for the first time. You knew he was going to make this a night you won’t forget. 

Tonight you were all his. 

[botwstoriesandsuch]

Back here with another episode of:

Read Part 1 here!

If you’re on mobile, and tumblr hates this post, follow along on this google doc!

Rules/overview this rewrite in the beginning of Part 1

Alrighty then, so let’s just jump into it!  

- - - - - - - - - - 

Recap! So when we last left off, we had just finished off Act 1 of the story. We’ve used the character introduction segments and the gambit feature as a means to give more life to everyone, without sacrificing too much cutscene time. Allowing us to save and focus the major story details and set up on the more cinematic cutscenes.

I had forgotten, but after Part 1 came out, an anon pointed out that Impa’s character introduction could use some work, and while you don’t need to read it right now to understand the rest of this post, I encourage you to look at it eventually to see the strengths and flaws in the original Impa introduction, and the reasons for my rewrite changes! All you need to know is that eggbot was lying around, deactivated, but when in proximity to the Sheikah Slate, was turned on like other Guardians. Eggbot being activated by the Sheikah Slate is kinda brushed over in the original game? But in my rewrite it’s gonna have some later significance. Also during the Royal Lab cutscene, I want Robbie or Purah to mention how Zelda’s control of the Sheikah Slate is quite exceptional or something. It’s a bit obvious already in Hwaoc, but I need it to be verbally said in a story scene for, again, later significance. Alright that’s it for my added details, moving on now. 

After Chapter 1, we moved into the characters accepting the Call to Adventure, whether by the general external reasons of wanting to save the world, and developed a little bit further with more internal related reasons to give nuances and identities to different characters. Revali wishes to prove that his hard work earns him better merit than a sidekick, Urbosa wishes to protect and help Zelda on an emotional level, Mipha wishes to get closer to Link and come back to her family proud, etc etc. 

Then, the climax of Act 1 ends with the Yiga ambush, and the characters get a first taste of leaving their areas of comfort, and journeying into the unknown world. Although the gameplay and the successful defeat of the Yiga establishes the Champion team’s strength, our interaction with Rhoam shows us that they still have a ways to go. The momentum into the full story now has a bit of tension and conflict. 

So now we crash into the beginning of Act 2, the longest Act in a story, as it’s the part where the....story, happens. Let’s take a look at changes to the Hollows, eggbot mysteries, Zelda character growth, and our first real dip into the character of our antagonist, the Prophet of Doom himself, Astor…

So in the game, Chapter 3 opens on the flank of Death Mountain, our heroes overlooking the view of Korok Forest.

There are a few problems I have with this scene. It’s really stale, there’s no movement, nothing dynamic about it other than the opening shot. They just kinda stand there and say words until Revali’s done ranting and summons Medoh. Also Revali’s dialogue is a bit “much” to say the least, and uh, spoiler alert, he’s gonna be reworked a bit more than the other Champions. Finally, this scene doesn’t have a lot of purpose or substance. Sure, it has some character conflict with Revali and Link and the team, but that’s kinda established already, plus it’s something that I’ve already fleshed out in the last scene with King Rhoam, so it’s a bit redundant. So that leaves this scene serving only as a boring current draw to the Medoh fight and nothing else. This is the opening set up for the Chapter where important story stuff goes down! Needs a lot more substance. So! Here’s my rework. 

We open on the sound of running. Link, along with Zelda, Urbosa, Daruk, and Mipha are running upwards on a path by Edlin. They’re chasing a small group of bokoblins and it looks like it’s the end of the fight. Urbosa is more near the back, with Zelda, but Daruk and Mipha both kill a bokoblin, their bodies of the monsters exploding in a cloud of malice upon their demise. When the camera shows each of their kills, the shots are quick, but I want the angle of the camera to be in such a way that the malice evaporates center frame, with Daruk and Mipha being behind the malice. This is because for a split second, it looks like the malice lingers around them like smoke. Huh, I wonder if that’s foreshadowing or something.

Anyhow, Link chases the final red bokoblin uphill, boots pattering against rock. However, we’re now seeing this from a moving, flying, bird’s eye view [quite literally wink wink] 

Cut back close to Link, he kills the bokoblins. Stands there for a sec as he sheathes his sword. And then...

“Well I’ll be plucked. You defeated it, eh?” 

Reveal Revali flying from above, and he lands in front of Link, but faces away from him. “Who would have thought that some little knight, amongst a group of chosen heroes, would get some action. You must be pretty proud of yourself, hm?” Cue that classic Revali head turn with a glare. Also when Revali says “heroes” I want him to flick his scarf dramatically, while staring at Link’s armour, as if internally he were judging Link on a runway.

Zelda runs up and starts speaking. “Oh Revali, I apologize our meet up with Medoh got a bit delayed. I assume that you’ve already positioned them by now for the attack?”

Revali hums a yes, but doesn’t bother to entertain a more fleshed out answer. Instead, he flicks his wing (as if to say, “come on”) and turns his back to walk up the trail. The others follow.

“I was informed that only the Champions and yourself would be present. What are…” Revali flicks a wing in the direction of Link and eggbot, like a Karen shooing a waiter. “...they, exactly contributing?”

Zelda says some stuff about Link being her bodyguard like: “Well, my father was impressed enough with Link’s actions from the other week that he’s assigned to give me further protection.’ She can say this a bit grumpily, to Link’s ignorance. Daruk can pipe in like “And a good thing too! Always great to have little guy at our backs.” and Mipha can nod sheepishly or something. But their dialogue is cut off by another rude interjection (because hell if Revali wants to listen to more rambling about Link)

“Right, right. And this thing is still around?” Revali gestures to eggbot. 

Zelda: “Well, This little one's technological prowess has been quite useful in battle, allowing us to access the rune functions and all. So I figured it’d be a big help should something unexpected happen. Plus...” cute shot of Zelda staring at eggbot, “it just...feels right.” Then the little eggshit can like, chirp happily or make some cute whistle or whatever. Just shove in a bit of that egg fanservice, might as well since I need to better establish its presence for later.

Revali mutters something about “big help,” before gesticulating with his wings as he continues walking up the trial. “Mooore like a big liability should anything happen to your little pet, and one of us be forced to risk our lives just to save it from becoming scrap. Honestly, when it comes to you, and you.” Revali points to both eggbot and Link, “Your presence is an entire waste of time. ‘Backup?’ Help?’ Tsk. Humouring.” Eggbot can make a noise or something while Link just tilts his head. Revali continues: “You’re only here because of a non-existent, fantastical, imaginary hypothetical in which I somehow fail, and I don’t, fail.” When he articulates that last part, he stops walking and does another little head turn/glare, but he still doesn’t bother to fully face him. “I’m sure that your duty will no longer be of importance once your reputation...is nothing but a memory overshadowed by today’s great feats. A forgettable knight, heh heh!”

“Revali,” Urbosa sighs, “How long do you expect us to put up with your showboating and prattle?”

That when Revali finally turns fully to face the group, with a more grim glare. They’ve reached the top of the ledge anyhow, so they’ve stopped walking. This is where the camera can view the Lost Woods in its fullest as it zooms on Revali. Then, that ending is the same as the game with the pan up to Medoh’s presence. 

“Fine. I’ve said enough. The time has come to show you what I’m made of. Now witness...Vah Medoh’s divine power!”

So that’s that. Revali is toned down a bit, and his rude remarks have more of a precision as to their point. It’s a bit hard to explain over words alone, but the fact that this scene takes place as the Champions are walking up the trail, means it’s a lot more interesting to look at. (Kinda like the walk and talk premise that you see in The West Wing) Plus, the trail being uphill establishes that hint of power dynamic as Revali is above everyone else. Also there’s just a bit of some botw dialogue connection, not only in just the opening, [Hwaoc Revali vs Botw Revali “Who would have thought” is put in different context based on their development, so it’s a good establishing point to show where this Revali is at in dynamics with Link in comparison to botw, all in just one line rather than in a more longer explanation] but I also scattered a few dramatic irony pieces in there heheh. There’s a lot more reasons why this scene is an improvement [and hopefully to you, it already *feels* better] but I’m not going to explain them until near the end, as its importance is connected to the later scenes of this Chapter.

In fact, that's the overarching change that I’ve made to these cutscenes, I’ve actually connected them and related them to the other scenes. This is the very first introduction to Chapter 3, after all, so it’s important that this introduction serves to be of more significance than “ok here’s the champions, here’s revali, there's medoh. Now go wreck stuff.”

Medoh’s fight is the same, the cutscenes after are mostly the same. Except here, when everyone runs into Korok forest and you see Astor, I want this scene to end not on Astor’s face (because it’s not as significant anymore since we’ve already see Astor in full in Chapter 2 with Urbosa’s stage) but it should end with Astor reaching out a hand towards the camera. The camera angle would be just a bit below Astor. This is because I want the implication to be slightly more clear that he killed those two Yiga underlings to craft the Hollows. It’s a nice little “watch it for the first time it doesn’t mean anything” but watching again it’s like “ohh how did I not notice that” kind of thing. 

Then, Hestu’s introduction is roughly the same. I don’t think I really need to rework it too much, since Hestu as a character doesn’t serve anything major to the plot, so it’s fine for it to just be fun and cute. I will however, change just a few pieces of dialogue. 

Revali: “Are we even making progress? We could just be going in circles.”

Daruk: “Good point. If only someone could fly above and scout the way.”

Revali: “As though I could see anything through this muck. Honestly, do you even think before you speak?”

Revali!!! Don’t be so rude to Daruk. Like yes it’s a bit funny, but that last part with “do you even think before you speak” is a bit much, because honestly Revali doesn’t really have a reason to hate Daruk. He’s characterized as being rude to Link and those he deems unworthy of respect, but Revali respects Daruk, Mipha, and Urbosa fairly well, considering they were chosen alongside him. So personally, I’d just tweak this to

Daruk: “Good point. If only someone could fly above and scout the way...”

Mipha snickers at this. And Revali mutters more quietly to himself, “As though I could see anything through this muck.” and gives little “hmph!” at Daruk, moving away.

There we go! It still serves it purpose of showing how the Champions are still not completely in sync (which is what I can assume was the original purpose of Revali’s rude comment line) but it’s played a bit more comedic (which makes sense considering this is in the context of Hestu’s introduction) and we get to poke fun at Revali, since just early we had spent so long boosting up his ego. Also Mipha laughing a bit with Daruk while Revali broods adds to that point of them being too busy to see Hestu right behind them.

Another small change, I don’t want Zelda to discover Hestu first. I want eggbot to discover Hestu, maybe they shake their maraca and eggbot notices and gives a little curious whistle. When Zelda notices eggbot not walking with her, she looks right, and that’s when she notices Hestu. It’s almost insignificant, but I really want to establish the eggbot’s presence for this chapter. Especially since this game writes him out of cutscenes a lot. 

Final small change. That Hestu scene ends, not with Revali wordlessly shaking his head and following the group after hanging back. But with Mipha actively turning back, saying something like “Come, Revali. We should all stick together. It wouldn’t do for us to get lost.” and then a reply like “As far as I’m concerned, when it comes to mystic swords, magic trees, lucky knights, and walking eggs...I already am.” I’m just trying to keep intact that Nintendo “vibe” of flicking the character stances right in your face, especially since this game's only forms of telling the story are through these less than a minute cutscenes. 

OKAY! Gameplay stuff. There are no real mechanic or level design changes to the Battle of Korok Forest, BUT there is one important change that I want to make here. 

When the party splits up to take on the bosses in order to get rid of the malice. I think that the Hollows should speak.

Not like full on sentences and stuff (yet) but I think they should mumble and groan and be able to speak a few simple words. Now why do I say this? Well, let’s take a look at how I think we should introduce them. 

First off, I think it should be a cutscene. Not just some 2 second animation where the Hollows spawn in. Nonononononono, this needs to be a cutscene, because it needs to be acted, because we need to see the character reactions. Like, if you’re gonna have that cliche “dark evil clone of the protagonists” thing, then you might as well go all out with the angst. In fact, personally, I would have rewritten is as the hollows actually *being* the champions and astor can temporarily control them but then when he sees that fail later in the game that can be his motivator for making the blights to kill them off since they’re no longer of use to him alive or whatever but we’re scrapping that idea because like I've said I want to try to keep the integrity of the original story.

Ok, so you have a character come up to one of the map points, and when they get there it fades into a cutscene. It’s not gonna be super long, but here’s the vision. 

Character is in the lost woods, they killed a stalbokoblin or whatever. Just some low tier enemy, and then it dies and becomes that whisp of malice. Great. Character turns to leave, but then they hear something. Like a snicker, or laughter. Cut to this angle from behind the trees, but instead of astor it’s the character you’re playing as.

They go over to investigate, creeping closer with caution, until they see a shadow. The shadow of a small figure, about no higher than Link, with a long, trident weapon. 

FWOOSH! An explosion of malice, almost like a fountain behind the character. They turn just in time to block the attack, the Lightscale Trident, but yet...it’s not the Lightscale Trident, because it’s covered in malice. Hollow Mipha is striking from the air, because this is basically her fountain teleportation thing, but malice. Once the character blocks the attack, time slows just a bit so you can see Hollow Mipha’s face, and then cut to the other characters face to give them a reaction. And that’s it. 

Then you can pop back into gameplay, but there should be textboxes on the bottom where you can see the character’s surprised reaction like

[Unimportant detail, but if Daruk fights his Hollow self I want his reaction to be like “Woah! I sure look grumpy. I look like I skipped breakfast.” and then his gambit attack is like “eat THIS!” Also Revali can say something about how imitation is a form of flattery]

Through that fight, the Hollows also have like one textbox and a line of Evil™ mumbling and/or laughing once they’re defeated. The laughing is kinda used in a later scene, but it’s never really seen again so I just want that to be more prevalent. You all could probably think of more angsty “evil version of you” lines that are specific to each character, but I’m just thinking stuff like “You...won’t...last” or even just *muttering*. In fact, this is another thing that I want to flesh out with my gambit feature. It not only serves as interaction between whatever two characters you’re playing as, but also as interaction between your antagonists. So if you use a gambit on Kohga, he’ll say something specific about the characters he’s fighting. Same idea with Sooga, or Astor, and now here, the Hollows can say stuff to you.

There’s gonna be someone out there more creative than me out there that can think up some cool dialogue for them, but basically what I want to establish is that we know that these Hollows are made from people’s like, souls? Or life force or whatever you wanna call it. So it wouldn’t be farfetched to give them the ability to speak. Over the course of the game, I want their textboxes/dialogue to be more and more lifelike, like without the pauses or muttering. This is because the entire point of the dialogue is not only to serve that trope of “I’m the evil you I’m gonna say stuff that emotionally impacts you mwahaha” but it also makes them just a bit more menacing in my opinion. Also overall gameplay wise, I think they need to become stronger with the Champions because idk if it was just me, but they were so easy that I just forgot about them. 

So! Korok Forest Battle introduces these creepy mumbling Champions, people react and are a bit freaked out, but they eventually clear the malice and we hit the next cutscene. 

This is where the shit goes down.

You all probably remember how this scene goes down so I’ll try not to spend too much time explaining it. But here’s my two cents as to why I’m gonna rewrite it a bunch. I think it’s not a good villain reveal. 

Like first off, it doesn’t establish Astor as a threat. His memorable action here is the summoning of the Hollows, and while yes, they do beat up Link and that’s very good, it also let’s Link easily beat them and Astor as soon as he gets the Master Sword IN THAT SAME SCENE. There was no time to let the threat of Astor linger, and when we see Link instantly beat him once he gets his Mcguffin, it really hinders the effect of this reveal.

Secondly, everyone is just silent during this??? Like, obviously Link doesn’t say anything, but Zelda doesn’t do stuff? Astor just kinda says “kill her!” and thats about it. Zelda never says “who are you?” or “what do you want?” or anything because as far as she’s concerned this is just some random dude, he’s not Yiga or anything. Also Astor never even introduces himself?? Throughout the entire game??? So while we the player know who he is because of his fancy title card, as far as all the characters are concerned he’s just a Mystery Clown.  

It’s just super weird how no one asks any questions during this scene like no one acts like a human being with common sense. In fact, one could say that no one asks any questions for this entire game. Things just happen, and happen, and happen, and everyones just kinda chill. And then Zelda just kinda receives 17 flashbacks over the course of two minutes at the end of the game like she’s speedrunning botw memory%. Obviously having an aura of mystery over the course of your game is fine, it’s good to keep questions lingering over the audience’s head. Just so long as you answer them in a satisfactory way later on. Like, that’s not something I need to spell out for you right? If you set up a question, give the audience a good answer. If you set up a mystery, give a cool explanation. If you set up an interesting character you have to give the people a pay off that was worth their investment into them, right? Right? Right? You understand right? Cause as the writer for a story, it’s you’re to explain the significance and importance of why things happen in a creative way. It’s almost as if that’s the entire purpose of storytelling, you know, an explanation of events in a compelling manner. Like please, this is a concept that you are able to grasp right? This isn’t just me right? See that’s how writing works when setting up anything ever, you gotta give an explanation to the choices you make in the plot. You gotta explain why. You gotta explain why. Explain why. Explain why. Explain, why? Explain, why? Why? Why? WHy? WHY? WHY? WHY? WHY? WHY? WHY? WH

Sorry I got carried away. Anyhow, here’s the rewrite. 

Link and Zelda don’t enter the forest at the same time. They run through the wooden tunnel thing, and Link makes a gesture like “go!” while he stays back a bit to hold off some monsters like stal-lizalfos or something. So Zelda runs into the center of Korok Forest.

As far as any of the characters know, this is a safe haven now, this was their destination, so there’s no monsters here, so they’re good. The princess is safe, the Champions are just cleaning up in their respective corners of the forest with the Hollows, and Link is fighting off the monsters by the entrance. So while there is still tension from the battle, Zelda lets out a sigh of relief once she sees the Master Sword. 

She approaches it, cautiously, but doesn’t step onto the stone pedestal, still staying a ways back in the grass. “We’re finally here,” she says to herself. “Now we just have to protect the sword, await for the hero to retrieve it, and await for destiny to arrive.” She looks down at the ground, and then at the back of her hand (fuck what hand was the one with the triforce, her left hand? I’m gonna say left hand). So she looks down at the back of her left hand, before letting it fall. She turns away from the Master Sword and to herself she just mutters, “I only wish that I could make as much progress in fulfilling my own role...in making myself to be of actual use, like the others.”

There’s a moment of silence as Zelda wraps her elbows and closes her eyes. Then,

“If that is what you wish,” a sudden voice echos, and Zelda spins around to face it, “Then perhaps I can be of some assistance.”

Cut to Astor, standing in front of the Master Sword, facing Zelda. Roughly where he is shown here, but Zelda is a couple feet away from him, standing on one of those rocks.

Zelda steps back in shock for a moment. “W-Who? Who are you?”

“Me?” He takes one step down the stairs. “Oh, I am just someone, same as you, who wishes to see destiny fulfilled.” Zelda takes another step back, and seeing this, he stops approaching. “Ease your mind, Your Highness. There is no need to be frightened. You may call me, Astor”

Cut to title card on his face, it can be like this, BUT, no malice or glowing magic around him, it’s all still lush green forest, and I don’t want as much focus on his astrolabe. It’s just his face, and he’s giving a warm, yet chilling smile.

Zelda is still stammering. “Y-You...do I…���. how did you—”

“It doesn’t matter. What matters now is taking every step towards stopping the Calamity, correct?” Astor starts to take a step towards her again, and this time Zelda doesn’t flinch.

“Y-Yes. Yes of course. But I’m afraid I’m still a bit confused. ...What exactly do you...want?”

Astor doesn’t immediately answer. He steps off the pedestal and starts to circle around Zelda, eyeing her, but still with that creepy smile. “Tell me, Princess, how fares your recent training? Adequate progress, I presume?”

He continues circling around her, still a few feet away. Zelda looks to the ground, defeated. “I’m afraid not. I’ve been trying to aid the researchers with the Guardians and Divine Beasts. But when it comes to this power…” she looks down at her hand again. “...it seems despite my great efforts and restless hours of prayers, they have yet to awaken.”

Using his free hand, Astor places a hand on his chest, tilting his head in a sorry pout. The gesture seems exaggerated. “My...you poor thing. How harrowing this must be for you.” He continues walking, eyeing her as he circles behind. “But, I am certain it is not your fault. You are but a child, after all.”

“I…” Zelda is still staring at the ground in front of her. Astor continues.

“I mean really, have you ever stopped to think about how absurd this all is? A collection of mis-match warriors, demanded to pilot gods. A sword for an unseen hero. The lives of us all, in the hands of one girl. Expected to lead us all, awaken a divine power, and save the world, all before her 17th birthday…”

After a beat, Zelda finally looks up at him, confusion and suspicion back in her eyes. “What did you say?”

Astor stops walking, he’s back directly in front of the pedestal. The camera is on him center frame, so that when he turns to face Zelda, his figure blocks the sword. 

“Now Princess, is that truly what you want? Do you really believe yourself prepared to live up to such a monumental task?” He’s walking directly towards her now, arm outstretched. 

“I—” Zelda pauses, before shaking her head. “Of course not, but that doesn’t mean—”

“Yeesss. Precisely! You needn’t not let yourself live like this, like some beggar to the gods, like a failure.” Astor is walking more quickly towards her, and Zelda is stepping back.

Zelda lets out a gasp of fear now, as Astor approaches, there’s a swirl starting to form around the astrolabe in his hand. “I don’t understand! What’s your point, what do you want? Who are you!?”   

He stops walking, he’s so much closer now, just a foot or two away from her. “It’s quite simple my dear.” He gives another smile. “I’m a man who wants to live.”

Fwoosh! The air around them is now tinted purple, the astrolabe’s power surrounding them both. Zelda gasps again. 

“If we truly wish to see this realm prosper, we must accept the indisputable truth.” Astor reaches out his hand. “You are not worthy of saving this Kingdom. You do not have the power to oppose such an unimaginable enemy! Therefore I shall relieve you of your burden, for the sake of us all. I will steal, your, destiny!”

Astor is seconds away from touching her, before suddenly...the sound of a sword unsheathing.  

Astor flies back, crumpling on the steps of the pedestal, he looks up to see Link, sword at the ready. Link had pushed astor back with the pommel of his sword [because no stabbing or blood for our PG Nintendo game] and the motion has cause him to drop his astrolabe, which now lies a few feet in front of him in the grass. 

“Link!” Zelda says, relieved. From behind, eggbot also appears. It walks infront of Link and gives a little whistle and does that sassy pointing thing in the direction of Astor, as if telling him off. 

Astor frowns when he sees Link, but when he sees eggbot his face morphs into confusion. “You…? But I…” he glances at his astrolabe. Astor gets up to retrieve it and stands.  

“It doesn’t matter how you’re here again. You can’t stop this.” Astor summons the Hollows, and they appear in front of him. It was harder to see in the lost woods, but here in the lush grass, its undeniable that the Hollows are draining the plant life around them. 

“Kill whoever he is. Fight the Guardian if you must, though I’d prefer it intact. But don’t touch the girl.” He narrows his eyes. “Her thread shall be cut by my hand alone.”

Then it goes into that action sequence. Link is desperately fighting off the Hollows, while also trying to keep eggbot close to protect it. The hollows are laughing, even taunting him, as Astor is just walking calmly forwards towards Zelda, and Link can’t do anything to stop it. 

Then it’s roughly the same, Link flies back as his sword breaks. Zelda is kinda helpless. And then just as Astor is about to reach Zelda again, Link cries out, the Master Sword glows. Everyone looks back, confused. Link pulls the sword. Boss fight. 

After the fight and after Link defeats Astor, he’ll say something like. “That sword...is too powerful.” and blah blah blah. He looks up at Zelda. “Should you come to your senses, Your Highness,” he hisses the words, “I will delightfully accept an invitation with your company again.” He glares at Link. “Perhaps one day, when we have more time, you will fully come to understand where your arrogance is leading you.” He stands, though clutching his side in pain. “Until then, I shall make certain we meet again.” Link charges him, but he disappears in smoke and malice. End the Korok Forest arc.

Okay so! Why is this scene better? Uhhhhhhhh because it fucking is that’s why. We got 1) A villain introduction that’s more menacing 2) an establishment of character goals, but a mystery of character motivation to keep suspense 3) a more insightful look at different character’s feelings and thoughts 4) a much more interesting interaction with dialogue that raises tension and properly climaxes to the action and 5) the story’s momentum moves forward with ascending action, and new story details that set up later scenes. 

I find it absolutely absurd that in the original game, these scenes are not written with more impact. This is the first look into the real mystery and substance that the story has to offer, and the first real look into the prime antagonist’s head. The actions and stakes throughout Act 2 have to properly ascend and rise in order to truly keep the audience engaged. You can’t just rely on mystery alone, you have to make use of character goals. 

Reiterating Zelda’s internal struggles means that this can more easily connect and flow into the later segments where she doubts her ability and sees Link and the others grow stronger. In addition, Astor’s presence is a direct foil to Zelda’s arc. You can already see it a bit based on his dialogue, but I will more fully explain the true depths of how his is a direct foil to Zelda further down the line when all the aspects of his character are revealed. It’s almost as pacing the amount of information you give about a character can properly incite your audience to be more invested in the story, hmm. Anyhow, all you need to know for now is that good antagonists have similarities and aligning viewpoints as the protagonist in the beginning of the journey, much more, than you might think.

= = = = = 

That is it for now! I can’t believe I had to dedicate an entire section to just one battle. But! That is how the story must go, as I need to flesh out as much as possible in only a few cutscenes without ruining the pacing. Tune in next time for flashbacks, backstory, Yiga husbands, token Zelink hours, aaand perhaps just a bit of Impa simping. 

[teaspoon-full-of-sugar]

tangled up in blue

pairing: harry styles x plus size!reader

warnings: fluff, comfort, mentions of anxiety, kinda angsty

word count: 4.4k

synopsis: harry has a rude encounter with a fan

author’s note: sorry for another rushed ending, but other than that, i hope you enjoy xx all the love

masterlist

—

It’s his first day off in weeks, and he is taking full advantage of it. After such a stressful few months, he wants nothing more than to spend this short break with his girlfriend. 

It’s two in the afternoon before he gets out of bed, and that’s only because the weak little grumbling in his stomach became too much to ignore. With no real food in the house, Y/N called in an order to their regular place, as long as he is the one who picks it up. 

He decides to walk, since the restaurant is only a few blocks away from his home, but when he catches a couple paps trying to get pictures a little ways down the road, he knew he should have driven. He’s glad Y/N stayed home, since photos of her rarely get out, and he knows that she wouldn’t have been comfortable with it. 

He sighs, trying to not let them ruin his first relaxing day in a while, but it’s hard. Harry likes his privacy, and sadly, he chose the wrong career. He would never say that he hates what he does. He loves being able to bring joy and kindness to people who really need it, even if it is just for a couple of minutes. 

He just wishes he could have some more space and privacy and freedom to do his own thing. He wishes he could go out on his day off without being stopped or having people trying (and failing) to take a sneaky picture of him, which, again, is an absolute invasion of his privacy. 

He would never snap at anyone, well, no one except the paparazzi, not only because he was taught early on that he shouldn’t do that, but also because he wasn’t that type of person. While he still may not be used to the significance of his stardom, he still understands that he is a role model to many people, and he needs to act as such.  

“I have an order to pick up,” he says to the hostess, who just stares at him for a second, jaw dropped slightly. It’s not the usual woman who gives him his orders, so he gives her a moment. She bounces back rather quickly. 

“Uh, what’s the name?” She asks, trying not to draw any unwanted attention toward him, which he appreciates. 

“Y/N.” 

She taps away at the register, tells him the total, and he pays. 

“I’ll go check and see if your order’s done. If not, it should be just a couple of minutes.”

“No problem.” He smiles. 

“Harry?” 

He turns to see a nervous looking girl with a bright tee knotted around her middle and a pretty pearl necklace tight around her neck. She brushes a tuft of brown hair over her shoulder, fiddling with her fingers. She’s only a little shorter than him, but she still doesn’t meet his eye. 

“C-could I get a picture?” 

He honestly doesn’t want to. 

He knows that one photo will lead to dozens more, and he just wants to get his food, go home, and cuddle up with Y/N, but she looks sweet, and the hopeful look in her eyes makes him cave.

“Sure,” he says weakly, taking a quick photo. 

“How’s Y/N?” The girl asks when she puts her phone away, desperate for a little more time with him. A beaming smile takes over his features, and he sits on a stool at the bar, feet tucking behind the bottom bars. It’s not very often he gets asked about her, but whenever he does, he takes full advantage of it; that is, of course, if the person seems genuinely interested and not just asking him for the sake of conversation. 

The public was a little less than understanding or supportive of their relationship when it was, forcibly, made known. Being friends and neighbors since childhood, Y/N has been a present figure in the early parts of his life. They grew further and further apart after he left for The X Factor, to the point where they didn’t even speak to each other. It was tough because she wanted absolutely nothing to do with the life that he led, and he couldn’t just give up everything he worked so hard toward. 

They reconnected some years ago when he was visiting home, and she had a break from uni. It was a slow build to what it is today, mostly because Y/N was hesitant about everything that came with being with him, like distance between them, negative publicity, and, of course, his fans, but, as she always said, he made everything worth it. 

When their relationship was leaked in the press, they had to prematurely address the rumors. Not that Harry is embarrassed or ashamed of her, quite the opposite, really, but he just had one too many relationships fall apart due to the pressure the media put on them. He didn’t want to put Y/N through that; he didn’t want to see her to realize that, perhaps, he wasn’t worth the negative attention. 

“She’s great,” he says. “We’re gonna go hiking later this evening, hopefully get a good view of the sunset.” 

“That’s nice,” she smiles, happy that he’s happy, and he breathes out a sigh of relief. It’s refreshing to meet someone who is actually 

His smile fades when a girl behind him scoffs. 

“That’s surprising.” 

He wants to believe that she’s not commenting on his conversation, but he knows better than anyone that she’s listening in; hell, he could feel the eyes of everyone in the diner the second he stepped inside, but just because he’s been doing this for years doesn’t mean that he’s not immune to the voices and the stares. He’s gotten pretty good at being able to ignore them, and he tries his best to do the same with her. 

The brunette, who also seems to have noticed the girl behind him, flushes red, pity apparent on her features. He gives her an uncomfortable, closed mouth smile, trying to focus back on their own conversation. 

“I mean, have you seen her?” The girl behind him continues, laughing lightly. 

It makes his chest ache, anger settling deep in his stomach, burning and vengeful. Never has anyone made such blatant comments about her; they normally say that sort of stuff behind the safety of a screen and certainly not right in front of him. He knows what people say about his love. They make negative comments every little thing about her, the biggest one being her weight, and he never says anything because Y/N thinks that it would make everything worse, but she’s not here to hold him back. 

He turns to face the girls behind him. The one whose back is still facing toward him, leaned in close to the other, as though that’s enough to hide what she’s saying. 

“I beg your pardon?” 

They’re both young, but surely old enough to know better. One of the girls, with brown hair with a pink strip in the front, blanches when he catches her eye, an apologetic look on her face; she looks close to tears, even, stuttering hopelessly. 

“Dee—” 

“I didn’t expect him to be a chubby chaser.”

“Excuse me?” 

The girl with bright red hair, Dee, he assumes, finally turns to face him, a shameless smirk on her face. 

“I am so sorry,” the brunette begins, but her friend, fueled by desperation and spite, cocks her head to the side, chest puffing out beneath a “Treat People with Kindness” shirt, the rainbow colored words taunting him. 

How ironic. 

“I mean… am I wrong?” She asks, looking at him expectantly. 

“How dare you?” He seethes, standing fully, towering over her seated figure. He knows he shouldn’t be giving her the slightest bit of attention. That’s exactly what she wants, to get a reaction out of him, and he’s playing into her game, but he honestly doesn’t care. A heated red paints his skin, trailing up from his neck to the tip of his nose. He can barely breathe, let alone speak clearly, frustration and anger choking him. 

He struggles to find his voice, but when he does, he can’t stop them from spilling out, malice and disgust dripping with every word. 

“I have never been so disappointed and ashamed in someone who claims to be a fan of mine. How can you wear that shirt while passing judgement on someone I love very much, who you have never seen or met? And I pray that you will never meet her because she doesn’t deserve such vile things being said about her.”

He turns to see the hostess with a large paper bag in a stunned silence, and he takes it from her wordlessly. 

“I’m sorry,” he mutters to the sweet girl, ashamed that he snapped like he did, but she gives him a proud smile and moves, so he can leave. 

—

Someone apparently recorded the encounter, and the video is trending on Twitter by the time he gets home. Jeff is the one who told him about it, sending him a link and a long message about how much of a PR nightmare it’s going to be. Especially when the reception is less than positive. While some think he was being too nice, others are saying that he shouldn’t have lashed out (their words, not his) at someone who is a fan and supports him, but Harry knows that there is no winning. Everyone always finds something to say about things that are clearly none of their business. He even saw a few comments about Y/N, how she should fight her own battles and not have Harry do them for her. 

They make him feel nauseous. 

“Hey, babe,” he says as he enters their apartment, Munchy, Y/N’s cat, weaving and purring between his legs. Whenever he gets home, he can feel the stresses of the day shrink to nothing, and he’s finally able to relax. A smile creeps over his face when he sees her, leaning against the counter with a mug of tea cupped in her hands. She hasn’t changed out of the boxers and the large yellow tee from that morning, but her hair is still wet from a shower, the scent of her fruity soap strong. 

“Hey,” she says softly, and he leans in for a kiss, only for her to turn at the last moment, lips unfortunately pressing to her cheek. She takes the bag from him. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she says, tugging the takeaway boxes from the bag, not even offering him a glance. 

He knows that she’ll tell him what’s really wrong in her own due time, so he can’t push her; that makes it worse for everyone involved. However, he has gotten pretty good at coaxing it out of her. All it takes is a little patience and affection, and she’s putty in his hands. 

He presses kisses to her temple, tracing his lips down the length of her tender skin to the shell of her ear, nibbling playfully. He dips his hand beneath her shirt, feeling her stomach tense beneath his touch. After such an exhausting day, he just wants to be with her, feel her warmth and love. He’s never really been able to find comfort or safety in any of his past lovers, and when he found that in Y/N, he never misses an opportunity to shower her with affection, teasing and biting at her skin. He just wants to melt and forget about his problems, to just be there, in the present, with her. 

His little bubble is popped when she shoves his hand away, probably harder than she really meant to, but it hurts him, nonetheless. She turns and gives him a weak little smile, her eyes, glassy and unable to meet his gaze. She looks like a shell, nervous and empty, and he knows exactly why she’s acting the way she is. She must have seen the video and probably the nasty comments people left about her. 

“Baby—” 

“Let’s eat, yeah?” She changes the subject, pulling out some silverware from the drawer.  “This one mine?” 

“Yeah, your usual,” he says softly. 

They eat in an awkward silence, old sitcom reruns playing in the background, tension thick in the air. He can’t focus on anything but her breaths, shaky and shallow with anxiety. He knows that this entire situation is weighing heavily on her mind, and he needs to get everything off his chest. He wants to pull her into his arms, stroke her hair, and tell her to not listen to anything anyone says, that she’s it for him. 

It's going to happen, all in due time; he’ll get nowhere if he doesn’t go at her pace. 

“You shouldn’t have done that,” she mutters suddenly, picking at her food. “Not that I don’t appreciate it, but I don’t want you putting your career at stake by standing up for me.”

He understands; he knows what it feels like to constantly be worried about what other people think, to have it impact every single decision you make. He’s mulled over everything he’s done for the past decade, but, at the same time, he’s her boyfriend first. He could honestly give a damn about his public image if it meant he had to stand by a listen to people say those nasty things about her. 

“You would do the same for me,” he says, and she sighs. 

“It’s not the same thing.” 

“I don’t understand why we're arguing about this,” he says abruptly, placing his food onto the side table and turning fully toward her. 

“I’m not—” She breathes out quickly, standing up. She tugs her clothes down, loosening them, and she crosses her arms, feeling vulnerable for some reason. Harry has never passed any judgement to her for the way she looked, knowing full well that she’s struggled with her weight her entire life, but this entire situation is making her feel insecure and weak and anxious. She feels like he is going to think that she’s being too sensitive about it, melodramatic about the severity of their comments. 

“I’m not trying to start an argument. I just don’t think you understand that there’s going to be a lot of backlash for this.”

She’s embarrassed that he even needs to stand up for her. He should be with someone who is used to being in the spotlight, and, most importantly, he deserves to be able to go out with someone without people commenting or staring. He shouldn’t be with someone who makes people wonder why he’s with her, of all people. 

It’s not only her physical appearance that people comment on; she’s seen fans talk about how Harry doesn’t go out anymore, how she is never present at any concerts or any other special events, even though they don’t know she has severe social anxiety and a career that keeps her from being with him all the time. She truly wishes she could be all of those things for him, but she can’t, and that’s what breaks her heart the most. 

Harry deserves nothing less than the world, and he settled for her. 

And with everyone else in the world questioning why he chose her, of all people, why wouldn’t he think the same? 

“There would be even more backlash if I had just ignored it, right?” 

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” she says, “but, it’s not like it’s going to stop people from saying—” 

She can’t even say it, their all too familiar words leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. No matter how many times Harry tells her to pay no mind to their comments, she can’t help it. She truly hates how much other people’s opinions about her impact her, with paralyzing fear and doubt filtering through her thoughts on a daily basis, but she can’t help it. 

“Saying what?”

“You know,” she whimpers, eyes glassy. “No matter what you do, there will always be people who say that I don’t deserve you. There will always be people out there who think I’m ugly o-or too fat for you and—” She chokes on her words, tears finally breaking through. A weak sob leaves her lips, faint and broken. “It’s not like it’s not true, so there’s no point in fighting it if it’s going to ruin your reputation.” 

She starts to pace, one hand tucking into the curve of her waist while the other pinches the bridge of her nose, feeling a headache forming.

“Whoa, hey, okay,” he stutters, standing. He holds onto her arms, hands rubbing over her cool skin, trying to comfort her, but she weakly pushes him away again, rubbing her nose. She pulls at the bottom of her shirt and wipes away her tears, leaving it wrinkled and wet. She sniffles, struggling to keep the panic from growing any further in her chest, heart racing painfully. 

She moves into their bedroom, and he follows close behind, their food long forgotten as she tries to control her breathing. 

“What’s this really about?” He asks. She pauses, her shoulders visibly sinking, and she sits on the foot of the bed, hooking her feet on the footboard. She cradles legs to her chest and tugs her shirt over them, forehead pressed against her knees. 

She’s exhausted at this point. Ever since she saw the video and the comments, she’s been torn. She’s grateful that Harry said something; it made her hopeful that maybe it would make them stop, even if it was for only a day, but when she saw people actually defending the girl who said those terrible things about her, all of that pride was pulled away, leaving nothing behind other than debilitating anxiety and bone-chilling fear. 

She just wants the day to be over, as if that will make everything go away. 

She knows that they need to talk about it, but she’s afraid. She’s afraid of what this conversation could lead to; he could realize that he doesn’t want to deal with everything anymore or that he doesn’t want to deal with the strain that it puts on his relationship with the public. 

The bed shifts as he kneels beside her, hand pressing against the small of her back.

“Y/N, please, don’t shut me out,” he whispers. She whimpers when he kisses her temple, an attempt at trying to ease her out of this miserable hole she’s dug for herself. She finally looks up at him with swollen, burning eyes, tears threatening to fall. 

“I just don’t want you to wake up one day and realize that I’m not worth all of this. You shouldn’t even need to say anything to people.”

“You’re right. I shouldn’t have to say anything to them, but that has absolutely nothing to do with you. I have to say things because of all of the judgmental people in the world, who body shame the woman that I love, a woman who they know absolutely nothing about.” 

“I don’t want you to start believing them, and I just don’t want you to regret me.”

“Why would I ever regret you?” 

“Why wouldn’t you?” She snaps, her lips quivering. “I’m not like the others.” 

“That’s what I love about you.”

“I’m not cut out for this,” she cries.

Hurt passes over his features, and the words die on his tongue. A pinch of fear starts in his stomach and spreads up to his heart, which races painfully, chills rushing through his spine. 

“What are you saying?” 

She doesn’t answer; she can’t. She didn’t mean for it to slip out. It’s usually just a passing thought when her insecurities come at full force. She’s never actually said it aloud, for fear of its repercussions. She doesn’t want to lose him. Even if she isn’t cut out for this sort of lifestyle, he is worth absolutely everything. 

“Y/N,” he says, cupping her cheeks. He wipes away her tears with his thumbs, but more fall to replace the ones he tried to clear. He hates how much this has affected her, and he hates that it’s his fault, too. She holds onto his wrists, fingers trailing up and down his heated skin, from his calloused hands to his elbows, their gaze never breaking. 

“I love you. Nothing anyone says will make me feel differently. Would you still love me if I gained a ton of weight or if I was just skin and bones?”

“Of course,” she says quickly. 

“This is no different,” he smiles. “I do regret many things in my life. I regret some choices I’ve made, I regret things I’ve said, and I regret being selfish. But you?” He shakes his head. “You will never be one of my regrets. You are beautiful inside and out. You make me want to be better, you make me look forward to every new day, and you give me strength.” 

Her heart swells at his words. Harry has always been a very emotive man when it came to her. He was never ashamed to let her know exactly how he felt, probably because of the years where he felt hopeless and couldn’t express himself fully. He leans in a little closer, his forehead resting against hers, and she can feel her worries tapering off with every shallow breath. 

“My love, you have no idea what you do to me,” he whispers, rubbing his nose against hers. He brushes away her tears, leaving her skin sticky. “Not one fuckin’ clue about the nights where I wanted nothing more than to be just with you, to be able to see you and laugh with you. Remember the night before my audition? And I asked if I could kiss you because I’d never kissed anyone before, and I didn’t want to seem like an absolute dud.” 

She nods. 

She pondered over that night for years. He was rambling and nervous, but she didn’t hear anything after he asked if he could kiss her, her mind going completely blank. Of course, she said yes. She had a crush on him for years, how could she say no? Even if it was just once, if it was just one fleeting moment in her life, she held onto it with everything she could. 

It was her first kiss, too, and she was so nervous with trembling hands and clammy skin. It seemed too good to be true: the boy she’s liked since as long as she could remember was going to kiss her; perhaps, there was hope for them after all. 

When they pulled apart, his hair messy and cheeks rosy, she thought that he was going to kiss her again. From the look in his eyes, he seemed like he was completely enamored with her, at a loss for breath with a soft gaze, but he didn’t. Her mind was playing tricks on her because all he said was “thanks”, and he laid back down, on his side, not even facing her. The hope she felt was crushed. Then, he left the next morning, and they never spoke about it again. The memory of that night leaves her heart aching. 

“Bullshit, all of it. I jus’ wanted to know how your lips would feel against mine, how soft and warm your body would feel. For months, I would think about that night, and I wished I could go back and tell you the truth, that I loved you. You have no idea how grateful I am to have you back in my life, to have you here, by my side, to hold and love.” 

As she gazes into his eyes, she can feel the truth in his words, the dedication, and the pain, most of all. 

He doesn’t want to lose her like he did all those years ago. 

He felt the same during those years apart, hopelessly wandering into the arms of various lovers to try to replace what he felt for her. He’s spent nearly an entire decade, searching for that one person to fill the void in his heart that Y/N claimed when they were just kids, much like she had with him. He yearned for a person, who would support and loyalty him just as she had, but they never cared as deeply as he did, nor did they feel and love just as strongly as he did. 

“I love you for everything you are, not just your heart or your mind but also your beautiful body, babylove. Don’t let anyone tell you any differently.” 

His lips tease over hers, just barely touching before she finally catches his lips after such a painstakingly long moment of silence after his confession, and they both are overwhelmed with the feeling of absolute relief, like they’re finally able to breathe.

He guides her onto her back, his knee nestling between her legs, blue sheets bunched up around her waist. He gently eases his hand below her shirt, fingers faint on the soft and pliant skin. She combs her nails through his hair, scratching and teasing. Her body alive and heated beneath his touch, they melt into each other, forgetting everything wrong with the world and focusing solely on each other, the pinch of teeth biting lips and the rush of chills down her spine. He feels up her thighs, tender touch on her soft skin, but she pulls away from him, fingers still latched in his hair, hesitation clear on her features. 

“Please,” he whispers. “Jus’ wanna make you feel good.” He kisses her beneath the curve of her jaw, the warmth of his breath leaving her heart racing. “Wanna make you feel loved, make you feel as beautiful as you are.” 

There’s not many things Harry can find safety with. Since his life in the public eye, he’s had to make a lot of sacrifices. It’s difficult to find considerate strangers, safe refuges, and genuine friends, but he knows that he can always find solace with her, in their home, together, blanketed in warmth and tangled up in blue. 

—

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

frENEMIES, pt. 3 {Quarterback AU}

Summary: Locked in the supply closet together, the pair actually manages to resolve some of their issues but new ones arise when they realize the other side of hate is love and while one is willing to accept to cross the fine line, the other one will run scared.

Warnings: angst, swearing, panic attack, sexual innuendos and talk of sex

Part 1   Part 2

"Just stay with me tonight. Okay?" Grayson takes her hand, gingerly pulling her closer and while he wishes he could ignore the turmoil in her eyes, the hesitation in every inch of distance she closed between them, he can't help but wonder if she'll ever stop hating him.

After the past 24 hours they had, he hoped she would find a way. He just wants a chance, a fighting chance to show her he isn't the idiot, dumb jock she sees him as. He can't exactly deny the playboy accusation, but the rest of it wasn't very fair to him. At least he saw it like that.

"I feel like this is a slippery slope. I stay tonight and we...what? Have sex? Maybe just cuddle? Or talk? Next thing I know, you'll catch feelings and I don't really see how that would be good for either of us." Biting her lower lip, she grabbed a fistful of his shirt, not in a violent or sexual way, just as a way to ground herself, to find a footing in the insanity of her actually considering willingly being around the man she hated for years. And her hate wasn't unfounded.

"Don't worry, my sneaky little princess. That's not going to happen. At least not to me, but I can't promise anything on your behalf. I'm quite the charmer, ya know?" Chuckling as she pushed him back with all her might, Grayson lands on the bed with a throaty laugh she found quite pleasant. However, when Grayson told her nothing of the sort would happen, he forgot to mention it's because it's too late, at least for him it is - he already caught feelings.

How this came to be, you may ask? Last time we left these two, love was the last thing on their mind...at least for Y/N.

Well, it all started with a push from a very bald Ethan who decided to lock the frENEMIES in a room.

"Seriously?!" Y/N pounded on the door as she realized she's stuck and the only reason why that happened is because she wanted to make amends with Ethan and Amina. That's what happens when you're trying to be nice.

Ever had a big fight with your best friend and actually have them be right but you just won't admit it? Y/N sure as hell found herself in a lot of trouble with her best friend when Ethan got caught in the crossfire and while she apologized to Ethan, profusely, Amina was just done with her. It hurt when she chose to side against her even before the incident that left her boyfriend without hair. Isn't your best friend supposed to have your back?

Ethan forgave her, or so she thought before he gave her and Grayson a push before locking them up in the supply room on campus and while Y/N pounded on the door, she realized she was doing that all on her own. She figured the ostentatious, loud quarterback would be breaking the door down by now and yet she found no resistance on his behalf...just silence.

Frowning, she turned to the unusually quiet Grayson only to find him in the corner of the room, eyes wide open, heaving.

"Dude, you good?" She really didn't want to come closer and check but when he shook his head no, she felt her heart start pounding. The last thing she needed is him having an asthma attack now, because he might think she didn’t notice, but she saw him hiding the inhaler in his bag after taking a few puffs and while she didn’t understand why he’s ashamed of that, she didn’t say anything. Just as he’s hiding his dyslexia, something she didn’t know about until the dinner they were forced to have and he stared at the menu as if it was in a foreign language before asking his brother in their ridiculous twin language what to order. 

"Why? What's happening right now?" Carefully, she approached him because he seemed freaked out as it is and she had no idea how he might react to her in this moment.

"Not a fan...of closed spaces." Managing to explain through a few quick breaths, he had closed his arms around his folded knees and for the first time in forever, she saw Grayson fucking Dolan isn't invincible. She’s become all too aware of that.

"Oh." She let nothing else pass her lips as she sat right before him, chewing her bottom lip with her eyebrows furrowed and her nose crinkled as she pondered what she could do to help him. If a man as big as him freaks out in such a small room, she might not be quite safe. Would he ever hurt her?

"Why is football so important to you?" And that's when she spoke up, this time with a question she hoped would help keep his mind occupied, derailing the possible panic attack he seems to be facing. She knew all about panic attacks for they've tormented her since she was eighteen. She knew he feels vulnerable and terrified and she wanted to give him a chance to talk about what he loves, is confident in and is also passionately involved in. It’s not something she talks about, just as he doesn’t talk about his asthma and dyslexia. 

"Huh?" Grayson looks at her, his lips quivering, his chest hurting and his heart hammering against his cheat and he couldn't believe he was breaking in front of the girl that hates him more than anyone ever has and he could already see her using this against him.

"Tell me. I want to understand." But there is no malice in her voice and the way she looks at him is...merciful. She's never been this nice to him and for a moment, he can't help but wonder why. Why would she care?

"Please." The softness in her tone is enough to make him trust her. Maybe it's because he wanted to trust her with all his heart regardless, but he found himself speaking to her about what he never talked about to any girl...only to very few people in his life that mostly included his family.

"My dad. It was sort of our thing. He was the most supportive...It....Playing football makes me feel closer to him. I guess I just want to make him proud. Besides, I love the attention. I do. I love when they cheer for me, when they pat me on the back after a win and most of all, I love how powerful I feel on the field." Rubbing his chin absentmindedly, he flashed her a smile, the cocky one she usually saw on his face and it lifted a weight off her chest she felt ever since she saw the great quarterback cradling himself in a state of sheer panic.

It almost breaks her heart to see him that way, because having your mind and body betray you like that is an indescribable feeling to know you can't trust yourself anymore. Despite all the voices in he read screaming at her not to, she reaches out, placing her hand over his so tenderly he thought he imagined her touch.

"Awe, you actually care!" Grayson cooed teasingly and she rolls her eyes, scooting away from him a little, taking her hand with her.

"Bite me, quarterback." And while they were definitely having a moment, he couldn't help but wonder if he could use this time to learn why she really hates him.

"Ooh, kinky! Where?" Winking at her, Grayson purses his lips and her exasperation is evident but he can't let her leave without at least some truth being revealed.

"So, I have a question." He says with a small smile and she raises an eyebrow at him, her left eye narrowing ever so slightly at him.

"I don't care." Sassing back, she turns her body away from him, trying to hide from his over-analyzing stare. His eyes, the way he looks at her always makes her feel naked. It's intense and it's unveiling and frustration and she didn't want any of it right now. She’s always had trouble with emotional connections and anyone getting too close made her nervous and Grayson particularly made her want to run away screaming.

"You asked one question, I get to ask one too. So...why do you hate me? I mean, I can't even understand what I did to you that's so bad...except for the eyebrows sophomore year BUT it was an accident and I apologized to you at least a hundred times." Looking over at him, her glare is clearly showing his jokes are not entertaining and she's had enough but if it means he'll shut up, she'll tell him.

"You stole my first kiss without even asking me the first time we met." She states through gritted teeth and the horror and confusion on his face is baffling to her. "Don't pretend otherwise. We were talking and I actually liked you before you thought it would be okay to just kiss me out of the blue before running off to puke in the bathroom."

"I SWEAR I", he was going to say he doesn't remember but it all sounded too familiar and he...well, he thought he dreamt that.

"Oh, God! I'm sorry! I was drunk off my ass that night and it was the first and last time I got drunk. I swear I thought I dreamed it. I really am an asshole." Running his hands through his luscious locks, Grayson hid his face as he wondered how the fuck did he forget about kissing Y/N fucking Y/L/N.

"Then there's the time you told Mike I was a snake and to stay away from me." She continues but he was shocked there's more than one reason and while he does remember doing this, she took it out of context.

"You got that all wrong. Mike was bragging around, saying he banged you and I was telling him he's a snake and I'd break his jaw if he keeps talking shit about you. He wasn't the guy for you. He just wasn't and I'm not sorry for that. I just wish you talked to me before assuming the worst of me." Leaning back against the wall, Grayson held her gaze fiercely. This was no time for weakness, he had to be brave and face her and make things better. It's been years and he...well, he's always had a thing for her.

One night stands were fun, but no girl ever challenged him nor intrigued him like her. She was so unapologetically herself, so beautiful even without trying and her mind works in such interesting ways that he was always in awe of her opinions, of her writing, of the way she sees the world.

"Alright...then how about when you conditioned the university to take Ethan on a full football scholarship or you wouldn't be going here? Did you ever wonder who you cost their lifelong dream? Because I know the guy who lost his spot and now he works at a gas station. And he deserved a lot better."

That was unexpected to say the least. If he were completely honest, it never crossed his mind someone might get cut when he insisted Ethan be accepted with him. Mostly because it was the only way for them to stay together and to be close to their dad in his final years.

"I didn't. I didn't think, I just felt. And it was wrong. I know that. But it also gave me and my brother a few more years with our dad and I'm sorry your friend got screwed over but I can't be sorry about why I did it. Just that I did it." Swallowing thickly, he watched her nibble on the lower left corner of her lips, her eyes falling to the ground and he could see the wheels in her head turning. She's overthinking, probably conflicted with what he told her and while it's not right, he knows she understands it.

"There were a bunch of pranks there as well, but these were the major reasons." She finishes, her eyes still fixed on the floor, unblinking and with a deep breath, Grayson moved closer to her.

"I'm really fucking sorry for hurting you, but I never meant to do any of those things. I just want to be your friend."

Chuckling, she finally blinks and looks up at him with more light in her eyes than he ever saw her looks at anyone but Amina with.

"Riight."

"I won't lie, I'm attracted to you, but I'd settle for friendship for now." Risking it, he places a hand on her back, craning his neck so he'd be in her line of sight for she turned her head away from him as soon as he started speaking, but she didn't fight his touch and that was encouraging enough.

"How about we make a little bet? Start this friendship right? Like...come to my next game and if we win, I get to ask anything of you. If we lose, you can ask me never to talk to you and I'll oblige. Is that good?" Expecting her to refuse, drowning in all the things he wants to tell her but he can't not yet.

He can't tell her he saw how her style evolved from wearing all black to actually having a colorful wardrobe. He saw the ring she ways wears on her right index finger and how she twirls it nervously before every exam or how she hates high heels but would still wear them to parties only to take them off an hour in. He saw how she struggled with her back in the second semester of freshman year, right after she fell on ice on the first day after the holidays. He knows she can't take a compliment but appreciates them, how she gets so involved with every book she reads that she makes the most beautiful faces when something interesting happens - she laughs, she cries, she loves the characters and after every book, it takes her a few days to remind herself it's all fictional, to say goodbye before finding a new book to obsess about. He also knows she has a waterfall as the background on her phone and that she wants nothing more than to visit Bali and Australia. He knows so much, yet so little and a from just observing her when she thought no one cared.

Grayson cared and he still does. He can't imagine a day he doesn't.

"Sure. Why not."

And as she agreed, the door opened and there was nothing better than the fresh air in their lungs after being stuck in there for what felt like forever.

However, Grayson won that game the next day and Y/N found herself actually cheering him on from the stands. It was definitely a new experience, but she didn't care. She didn't want to hate him anymore. It's exhausting to hate a guy who seems to be so painfully human that it's inspiring. There's nothing wrong in being human, in making mistakes and she decided to let go of his. As hard as it is, she had to. She couldn’t hate him forever, not when she knew his reasons and when she knows her friend had other choices and he gambled them all on his own.

"You really asked me to come to your room like that's not weird at all." She folds her arms over her chest and she can't help but be surprised with how tidy it is or the smell of wildflowers that fills her nostrils, she actually never imagined this is how his room would be. And she definitely didn't expect a keyboard in his room. He was full of surprises, the good kind.

"Just stay with me tonight. Okay?" Grayson takes her hand, gingerly pulling her closer and while he wishes he could ignore the turmoil in her eyes, the hesitation in every inch of distance she closed between them, he can't help but wonder if she'll ever stop hating him.

After the past 24 hours they had, he hoped she would find a way. He just wants a chance, a fighting chance to show her he isn't the idiot, dumb jock she sees him as. He can't exactly deny the playboy accusation, but the rest of it wasn't very fair to him. At least he saw it like that.

"I feel like this is a slippery slope. I stay tonight and we...what? Have sex? Maybe just cuddle? Or talk? Next thing I know, you'll catch feelings and I don't really see how that would be good for either of us." Biting her lower lip, she grabbed a fistful of his shirt, not in a violent or sexual way, just as a way to ground herself, to find a footing in the insanity of her actually considering willingly being around the man she hated for years. And her hate wasn't unfounded.

"Don't worry, my sneaky little princess. That's not going to happen. At least not to me, but I can't promise anything on your behalf. I'm quite the charmer, ya know?" Chuckling as she pushed him back with all her might, Grayson lands on the bed with a throaty laugh she found quite pleasant. However, when Grayson told her nothing of the sort would happen, he forgot to mention it's because it's too late, at least for him it is - he already caught feelings.

"Seriously, what exactly am I doing here, quarterback? Expecting to get lucky?" She couldn't shake it though, that annoying feeling it was more than she could imagine. The way he is around her is just...disarming and equally alarming. She can't get too close. She just can't love him. Grayson Dolan is a womanizer and she'd be damned if she gives a man like him her heart.

She’s never loved anyone and she didn’t want her first love to be a guaranteed heartbreak. She wasn’t a part of the hookup culture, she didn’t know how to function in that world and she refused to learn. And while Grayson might have good intentions, he’d be onto the next one in the month. It’s all fun and games when they’re just flirting and annoying each other, but to actually involve her heart? It terrified her, pushed her body on an invisible ledge she didn’t want to jump from. 

"Do you really think I brought you here for sex? I mean...I don't want to be presumptuous, but why would you come here if you think that's the reason why? Do you want to have sex?" Sitting up with the notion that this is a more serious conversation, Grayson quickly took a look at her and she was fidgeting, nervous as if...as if she never had sex.

"No. I just...I don't know, I'm not exactly the type that does this." Raising both his eyebrows, he realized he is right. His little devil is actually an angel. A fallen angel like Lucifer, but an angel nonetheless.

"I didn't bring you here for sex. I just wanted us to talk and...actually sleep next to each other. I can sleep on the floor if you want me to." As sweet as it is, she still couldn't relax. A man like him didn't seem quite content with nothing happening and she...well, she never slept next to a man before let alone more.

Overthinking took over and she found it harder and harder to breathe as her heart picked up speed and the possible outcomes of this night started to freak her out to the point of losing focus, losing touch with reality. The world felt like it moved too fast, her brain couldn’t fully comprehend anything around her. She found herself back in the black pit where a panic attack was preying on her like vultures pray on those lost in the desert.

"Y/N...are you...are you scared of me?" His voice breaks as reality sets in and he can tell she's shivering, her arms wrapped around her as she glances at the door every few seconds. But he had no expectations of that night but a long talk and getting to know her better. He just wanted to show her who he is, but she didn't seem to believe that.

"Look, I'm not like you. I didn't sleep around. I had my first kiss in college with you and I tried dating a few guys after who somehow all ghosted me once they started hanging with you and I'm guessing they were a versions of Mike so thank you, but I never had sex, I've never even held hands with a boy before! I can't do this. I just can't." And before he had a chance to react, she was gone. His beautiful mischievous girl ran from him and this time it wasn't because she hated him, but because she realized she might actually care for him.

Tags: @mendesficsxbombay​​​ @beinscorpio​​​ @peacedolantwins​​​ @dolandolll​​​

PART 4

[the-darklings]

—𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔;

—LATE NIGHT CONVERSATIONS.

pairing: oc!v (clara) x f!reader 

word count: 1.4k+

summary: “Why do you linger in the shadows?”

warnings: just fluff, just soft. 

notes: Is this the most meta thing I’ve ever written? Yeah. Enjoy!!

It’s cold outside. 

Huffing a breath, you enter the Continental terrace, shivering at the cold sting of wind. 

The fire is crackling, much to your surprise, but perhaps you shouldn’t be surprised after all. You know at least one patron that enjoys spending time up here. A patron Winston always makes sure is taken care of. Even if that person desires to sit outside in the middle of the night. 

The sight of her stops you dead in your tracks. 

The Vipress. 

A woman of legend at this point. A woman capable of such terrible, awful things. You’ve heard so many stories about her. Who hasn’t? 

John Wick’s old protege who more than lives up to his legacy. 

What you hear about her, however, depends almost entirely on who you’re talking to. 

Some speak of her fondly. Others speak of her with hate, malice. 

To be powerful is to be feared and hated.

She told you that once herself. 

“Why do you linger in the shadows, (Name)?”

You flinch at her soft question. 

Your throat feels dry as you search for something to say that won’t make you sound like a creep ogling her when she’s unaware. 

The fact that she knew it was you without even turning to look behind her sends an odd thrill down your spine. 

Dangerous and beautiful. 

Loose strands of rich brown hair brush against her cheek as the Vipress turns towards you. 

She sits on the sofa, facing the fire, a cup nested between her palms. 

You wonder if it’s tea or coffee or something else. She doesn’t drink often, you know that much. 

When you first met her, you assumed it was out of preference, now you know that’s not quite right. She’s too wary; always tense, always ready to fight back. Too wound up to let herself relax and you know those instincts have been beaten into her quite literally. 

It makes your heart ache. That this woman of few smiles but iron will can never quite let herself relax. Or be happy.

“I—I’m sorry,” you mutter, embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to impose.”

The Vipress watches you. Eyes dark, thoughtful, and shrewd. Those eyes remind you of Winston. Somehow both the manager and the woman before you make you feel completely stripped bare under their gazes. 

“You’re not imposing,” she replies, and turns to face the fire again. “Anyone can use the terrace.” 

Fidgeting you stare at her profile, at the way fire licks across her drawn features. She looks tired. Her jaw is set though. As always. Her mind is no doubt focused on something far more important than you.  

You turn to go. 

“Leaving already?”

Exhaling, you risk a quick glance over your shoulder. She hasn’t moved. 

“I...”

“You came here for a reason,” she notes, and raises her cup, taking a small sip of her drink. “Come and enjoy the fresh air.”

You do. 

Shuffling your feet, you approach slowly. 

The Vipress doesn’t like to be touched. Doesn’t like having people behind her, either. You respect those things about her despite not knowing the reason behind that caution. Just rumours. But there are many of those circulating around her, and you’ve come to find that only a handful are actually true. 

You wish you knew her name. 

The Vipress feels distant, cold. A title that could and does inspire fear in many. 

Some call her V. A fond shortening. But you wish you knew her name. Her real name. You bet it’s beautiful. You wish she trusted you with it. 

Winston knows it. Charon, too. 

But you never dared to ask them. It never felt right to do something like that. 

You keep distance between you as you sit down, glancing at the woman still watching the flames. 

“Tea?” you try awkwardly. 

A slight smile twitches her lips and something inside your stomach flutters at the sight of it. It suits her. So much. You wish it was more than a fleeting, distant thing that is gone in a blink. 

V straightens with a nod of her head. “Berber tea,” she offers by the way of explanation but all you can focus on is the way her freckles appear more visible in this orange glow. “A Moroccan speciality. It’s delicious.”

Something passes over her features at that mention but it’s gone quickly again, and she turns towards you, offering the cup. 

Being so close to her just makes eye contact harder to bear. Her gaze is too arresting and you reach for the cup with a fumble. 

Ignoring the heat of her fingers brushing against yours, you lift the cup closer, giving it an experimental sniff. It smells delicious but strong. 

“How did you even get it?” 

Her dark eyes flicker away for a moment, thinking, before she looks back at you. Her black jumper almost makes her blend in with the night around you. Like a dark promise, a secret. She favours dark colours usually. But you’ve seen her in greens and reds, too.

You lift the cup to your face, hoping to hide away from her for a moment. 

“Winston,” she says simply, and you try not to look down at her fidgeting fingers. Another tick. Another manifestation of the pain she carries. “For the raw materials. I learned how to brew it myself.”

She uses that terrifying mind of hers for more than just tea making, you know that, too. 

A thousand questions tickle the tip of your tongue. 

You take a sip as you think and choke at once. 

Not because the tea is too hot but because—

Your face scrunches in disgust. “EW—”

A quiet noise reaches you and you blink the tears from your eyes, swallowing down your revulsion. 

Vipress chuckles again; a gentle sound, a genuinely amused one, and you feel embarrassment pool in your stomach immediately. It sits hot and thick in your gut as you think of something to say. You do like that sound though. Her laugh. It’s pleasant and warm, even if a bit awkward—like she’s unused to laughing or smiling. But you feel like such a fool—

“It’s strong,” she murmurs, a smile still twisting her mouth and you stare at her, flustered. “I’m sorry, I should have warned you. You get used to it. I tend to go stronger on mint and lemongrass, too.”

You can tell that. Your tongue feels a little numb. 

Maybe a lot numb. 

“It’s okay, I just don’t think it’s for me,” you exhale and clear your throat, licking your lips. “Uh, why are you not sleeping?”

Her eyebrows rise as she reaches out as you hand her the cup back, lacing your fingers together. 

The woman gazes at you for a beat before offering a cool, “I don’t sleep much.”

“Oh.”

Silence follows. 

You desperately want to ask her questions but can’t find a single thing to say. She scares you. She fascinates you. There is an odd magnetism that makes just being in her presence feel nice. Thrilling, too. Something lingers in her hazel eyes. A whispered promise of danger, adventure, love. 

Like she might take your hand and disappear with you. 

Whisk you away somewhere no one will ever find you. 

A nervous flutter explodes inside your stomach at that thought. 

You would, you think recklessly, run away with her if she asked. 

“Would you like to go for lunch?” you blurt out in a rush. “Tomorrow?”

You want to die. Maybe the building will collapse and you will never have to think about what an absolute idiot—

“I can’t.”

Something inside your heart withers. Of course she won’t want to. 

You’re you and she’s...

She’s the Vipress. 

She must see something on your face—embarrassment or disappointment, no doubt—and her expression softens a touch. 

“It’s not what you think,” she adds quietly, squinting at you, curious. The seriousness melts from her features for a moment, and warmth floods your chest at the way a slight, apologetic smile graces her face. “I’m leaving for a job tomorrow morning. Europe.”

Nibbling on your bottom lip, you venture a low, “After you come back then?”

She doesn’t say anything for a long time. As if thinking hard about something. It makes you feel self-cautious despite the fact that her regard is not harsh. Just pensive. 

Your eyes drop first. 

She didn’t say no before but—

“I would like that.”

Your attention snaps to her, your lips parting in surprise. 

Around the rim of her cup you can just make out her smile. It’s almost hidden but you see it. She isn’t looking at you, either, but that’s fine. 

You only manage a small, breathless, “Okay.”

Her smile widens.

. . .

an: this is something self-indulgent I wrote just for fun so I don’t expect many people to actually like this. Though, all the same, to those of you who read it, I hope you did! 

[crackinglamb]

The River and The Fish. Do I know this one??

You do, and you’ll recognize it as soon as I start talking about it.

It’s the time jumping, wibbly wobbly lovers.

“So where are we this time?”

“2015.  May.”

“Oh.”  She did a quick rundown of the details, tried to place it.  They had been to New York already.  Corseca and its endless slog through mud and warfare was yet to come.  This was a friendlier time for him, more nostalgic and definitely more physical for them.  She looked back to see him eyeing her, watching her wade through the timeline so she knew how to act.  He didn't take it personally anymore.  He hadn't for a long time.  Centuries.

“Does it help?”

“Yes.  Hello River,” she greeted.

“Salmon.  How long?”

“Four hours or so.  Quick this time.  Sorry.”

“Can't be helped,” he replied in an offhand way.  No censure, no malice. Once, she thought it was better when they met up like this, without conflict between them.  Their lives together were so out of order. He was the flowing river, she the jumping fish.  It was their only constant.  And it was hard to have arguments on the things that mattered when one of the party was always leaving it.  “It's not your fault.”

She finished her whiskey in one gulp just as the crowd watching the TV cheered.  No, it wasn't her fault.  Nor was it precisely his.  They didn't have time to discuss that, however.  She stood up.  “Shall we then?”

He tossed down some bills without looking at them.  She barely glanced, but saw it was two tens.  At least he'd learned how to tip, finally.  Then he stood as well, draining off the last of his beer before placing the empty glass over the money.  “Your place or mine?”

“Yours.”  She didn't add 'of course' because he didn't know at this point in his life. She didn't keep places.  Not the way he did.  He wouldn't teach her how to make herself a permanent place for another century.

They left the bar and he hailed a taxi.  It was a yellow sedan, dinged but smoothly curved.  She assessed it quickly.  The make was no later than 2010, not that she didn't trust him to tell her the date or anything.  He held the door for her, a sardonic look in his eye.  This close she was reminded of how they shifted.  Sometimes they looked blue, others they looked gray.  Right now they looked hungry.  There wasn't much time to waste with pleasantries.

She got in and waited for him to tell the driver where they were going, although she could have done it herself.  But that would be telling, and if there was one thing she tried never to do, it was tell.

The taxi pulled up at the building he called home in this era of his life and she watched him hand off more bills to the driver before he opened the door and waited for her at the curb.  His hand was outstretched if she wanted to take it.  So far she hadn't touched him.  She wasn't ready to yet; she might not let go.  She rotated her shoulder again and stepped out on her own.  He was frowning at her, putting pieces into place in his head, she assumed.  He had noticed she didn't take his hand.

“What happened?” he asked as the taxi drove off and he dug out his keys.

They were inside the building before she answered.  With a scoff she glared at him. “You did.”

“Apologies,” he said.  “I don't recall.”

“It was a long time ago for you,” she said, letting some of her weariness come through.  A long time didn't even begin to cover it.  It was millennia ago for him.  And just three days for her.  The real reason they only had a few hours together.

“That's always the way of it, isn't it?”  He tilted his head down to look at her, and his face was sincere.  “Still, apologies, for whatever it was.”

She looked around the building, the classic design, the severe décor.  This place hadn't changed much from the last time she saw it.  Which was funny, since that was probably actually a year from now for him.  She followed him to the elevator, an ancient thing he wouldn't update for a few more years and stepped gingerly into it, making sure her feet were planted solidly before he slid the gate closed.  It was going to rattle and she was in heels.  He noticed.

“You've been here before.”

“You're full of questions you shouldn't be asking.”

“Sam...”  It was a playful, chiding tone.  Her heart broke a little bit.  He'd been so happy in this time, before it all went to shit.  She'd gotten to see a lot of it, although never enough and never in the right order.

“Just shut up and kiss me already,” she said.  

[silveryinkystar]

Some deleted scenes from my latest atla fic!

#1: In which Zuko adopts a dragon, and Mai really should be used to this by now

Just when she thinks he can’t surprise her anymore, Zuko goes and does something that proves her wrong. Like bringing home a baby dragon.

“I’m going to call you Druk,” he coos at the little coiled lump in his hands. “You’re lucky I’m here, otherwise Sokka might have called you something like Firebreather or Noodle.”

Mai has been introduced to Zuko’s turtleducks both before and after his banishment. Sokka’s not the only one who would be tempted to name a dragon Noodle.

“When Ty Lee said you wanted some time away,” Mai says conversationally, “I don’t think this is what she meant.”

He starts badly at her voice, but when he spins around to face her, he’s beaming widely. Spirits, he could light up the entire Fire Nation with that smile. “Mai! I thought you were coming back next week.”

“I got bored,” she repeats, smirking. “I missed Ty Lee, and gave my parents the slip when they said they were taking a detour. Seems like I wasn’t the only one who ran away. You’ve been up to a lot, hm?”

He chuckles. “Kind of,” he admits, and his expression turns serious. “The palace was getting to me, so I needed a break. I wasn’t intending on bringing Druk back, but I don’t mind.”

“Do the turtleducks like him?” she asks dryly.

“They love him. It’s weird, they’ve never actually seen a dragon before.”

“And you have? Before… Druk, I mean.”

He flushes, opens his mouth to speak, and closes it again.

“Zuko, that’s a yes or no question.”

“It’s… confidential?” he squeaks, flicking his gaze to the tiny hatchling winding around his hand, weaving around the limb before lying across Zuko’s shoulders like a very short scarf. It’s adorable.

She exhales. “When it stops being confidential,” she allows, “let me know before the others? And by that I mean the Fire Nation officials. I’m going ahead and assuming the Avatar and your other friends know.”

“Aang knows, but the others don’t,” Zuko corrects. “Of course I’ll tell you the whole story first.”

“Good.” She walks up to her best friend and embraces him tightly. He stiffens momentarily but hugs her back, careful not to dislodge Druk. “I didn’t just miss Ty Lee, you know.”

She can feel his smile against her shoulder. “I know. I missed you too, Mai.” He pulls away and holds her at an arm’s length. There’s a wicked smile on his face that’s somehow also completely devoid of malice. Not that she could ever see malice on him. “But you mostly missed Ty Lee.”

“One more word and you’ll find a knife on your royal person,” she warns.

#2: In which Sokka takes Zuko into the towns outside the Caldera to show him how much the place has changed

“You know what I think?”

Zuko hums and looks over from a scroll to his friend, who’s lounging on the bed with a map held above his head.

“I think the council members are jealous,” Sokka says.

Zuko raises his eyebrow. “What of?”

“Huh?”

“What would they be jealous of?”

“Oh,” Sokka exclaims, blinking in surprise. “They only have a few supporters among the nobility. Mostly in Caldera City. The people love you and your reforms, and your latest repeal of Sozin’s marriage laws won you even more favours among them.”

“There were more dissenters,” Zuko says with a frown. “I thought it was massively unpopular, even if it was the right thing to do.”

Sokka turns over and waves a hand vaguely at him, grinning like a fool. “See, that’s what I mean. You don’t care about popularity. You saw the marriage laws and knew that you couldn’t put boundaries on love, so you changed the rules. You found out why the war was wrong, and you ended it. Not without help, of course, but you did it all. You care about your people, and they know it.”

Zuko doesn’t know what to say to this, so he resorts to throwing a cushion at his friends face for having him confront feelings. His indignant yelp is a sound that leaves him chuckling for a good minute, so he lets it slide.

But the matter isn’t done yet, at least according to Sokka. On the last day of his visit, Zuko finds that there are no meetings scheduled for the day. He thinks he’ll spend some time in the gardens with his friend, like old times, but Sokka seems to have other plans.

“You guys have fun,” Suki says with a kiss to Sokka’s cheek and a clap on Zuko’s shoulder. “I’ll catch you later.”

Sokka pulls Suki into a proper kiss on the lips before he calls out a quick goodbye and drags Zuko out of the palace.

“Have you been to the towns and villages before?” Sokka asks as they make their way down the slope of the inactive volcano housing the capital city.

“Not nearly as much as I’d like,” Zuko admits. “I’ve been around the capital and Ember Island, but there wasn’t any reason for me to go down to the rest of the Fire Nation.” By reasons, he trusts Sokka understands that he means Ozai had strict rules to stay within the city limits.

“Huh. That’s not great.”

“I went to one of the towns once with my cousin, though,” he adds, expecting the familiar pang in his heart at the mention of Lu Ten before it hits him.

“He’s one of the good ones?” Sokka guesses.

Zuko smiles sadly. “He was like an older brother to me. You know, he was the one to tell Mom and Uncle that I was good with swords?”

“No way.”

“Ozai knew that I was leaving for a change in instructors,” Zuko continues, “but he never really cared either way at the time. He only really became a problem when Uncle and Lu Ten left to fight.”

“Ah.” Sokka rests a hand on his shoulder and squeezes lightly, and Zuko knows to draw comfort from the gesture. He misses Lu Ten dearly, but the sting of loss is numbed, now. He can think of his antics with his cousin during his early childhood without the accompanying sorrow threatening to overwhelm him.

They’re at the base of the volcano now, so Zuko slips up his hood. His hair is free of its topknot and falls over his scar so that he can blend with the crowd unremarkably. There’s no sign that he might be discovered, though, and no repercussions even if he is (except perhaps from his guards, but Ming won’t really mind once she understands why).

The first thing he notices are the sounds. There’s laughter, chatter, and the occasional yelling interspersed with off-key music. He’s already taken aback by how different it is from when Lu Ten helped him sneak out one night when his parents were away with Azula.

“I…”

Sokka smiles and loops an arm around his shoulders. “You haven’t seen anything yet, buddy. You’re going to love this.”

The wind blowing around them is cool enough to be uncomfortable, so Zuko tugs up his collar and raises his internal temperature to compensate. Sokka seems to be unaffected by the chill, which is only to be expected considering his friend spent most of his life in harsh southern winters. They stop every few paces to look at what the roadside stalls were selling, and more than once Sokka actively considers the merits and demerits of buying something they sell before deciding against them, moving forward, and darting back only to walk away again.

The fifth time this happens, Zuko finds a permanent solution in the fire-dancers performing in the streets. It’s his turn now to haul his friend over to them, and Sokka is all too willing to oblige as Zuko watches the performers exaggerate their movements with graceful bending.

“You know, this was pretty cool in the Fire Days Festival too – spirits, are you okay?”

From how distressed Sokka suddenly looks upon seeing his face, he automatically reaches up to touch the scar only to find his cheeks wet. He hadn’t even realised he was crying, but he scrambled for an explanation to keep the other boy from panicking.

“I used to watch the fire-dancers with my mother every year when we went to Ember Island,” he says, swiping at his eyes. “I always wanted to learn their bending style, it’s much more flowy than any other form of firebending. And… it’s been a while since the Fire Nation was this happy outside of festivals. And, well, Ember Island.”

Sokka nods slowly, but he doesn’t look any more placated.

“I guess it never really felt real to me,” Zuko mumbles, ducking his head as his eyes start to burn and glaze over once more. “I’m always stuck at meetings or fighting the council to pass a reform that would help my people, but…”

There’s a lump in his throat that stops him from speaking further, but Sokka leads him away from the crowd gently and finishes it for him.

“You never saw how your decisions impacted your people.”

Zuko manages a strangled chuckle. “They’re happy,” he whispers.

Sokka holds him an arm’s length away, hands firm on his shoulders. “That’s what I wanted to show you,” he says. “They’re healing, and they’re happy. I know most of the people you see are the ones who benefitted from the war, but when we were making our way to the capital before the eclipse, we noticed that it had left its mark on the Fire Nation too.”

Zuko nods, thinking about how he’d received news of an important weapons factory suddenly stopping production because of some problem with the river it was located on. He’d investigated it further and had declined to deliver that information to Ozai once he heard how badly the nearby town had fared.

“We’re the ones who instigated the war,” Zuko says, slumping against the wall of some building. “There were so few people who didn’t suffer for it.”

Sokka slides down next to him wordlessly. It’s not self-deprecating for him to say this – it’s the truth, and Zuko’s doing his best to make up for his ancestors’ terrible choices. They weren’t mistakes, not when each tragedy piled up on top of each other with the sickening, deliberate motive painting them red with blood.

He’s going to help the world heal, and if that starts by healing the Fire Nation? Well, that’s all for the better.