#so i got curious what the standard level of memory is!

[puppydogsys]

ok poll time because im curious..

“memories from your childhood” meaning any time up to ~18 years old, or if you’re younger than that up to your current age!

if you answer “some of it” and want to share in the tags what that means for you that’d be awesome!

hope you all have an easy day today <3

[xjackjackx]

Alan Becker Analysis: Hazard's Mysteries (Or Maybe I'm Overthinking???)

Ok so unlike this last post about Victim and Glasses Guy / "Agent", this isn't really me bringing anything solid onto the table (well besides one or two things). This is just me overanalysing random shit that frankly is likely irrelevant.

Anyways this post is about Bathroom Sign Guy aka Hazard aka Warning aka Sign, the gray pictogram mercenary from Animator vs. Animation VI, and why he might have a deeper role (prob doesn't).

Part 1 - The Overthinking of Minor Details

Ok this is the part where I'm 100% convinced I'm just talking stupid shit due to rewatching the episodes too many times, but eh.

Let's start off with something... relatively normal actually, which I saw pointed out by others. When Chosen attacks the mers with lightning, Hazard has this shit happen to him:

This is... frankly weird and idk what it means. When Wanted first came out, this and his movement made me think Hazard was a robot, but since then I started believing he's just a normal stick figure like the others. Besides, this whole series is on a computer so everyone besides the Animator is an AI lol.

So if he's not a robot, perhaps Hazard is connected to technology, and thus taking away the ship's energy took away his? That's the only other thing I can think of.

The second one was actually told to me by a friend, and tbh even in this whole post this might be the biggest stretch, but I still think this is worth bringing up. When Orange and Chosen return to the Outernet, Hazard is seen looking... somewhere.

(btw agent looks so stupid here lmfao)

The most likely answer is that he is simply looking around, like Agent and Primal - the cave drawing - are seen doing like immediately afterwards. But my friend did point out that it could easily look like Hazard is looking up - in which case, he could've possibly noticed Chosen and Orange, and then chose to not tell the other mercenaries until Agent notices them and thus forces Haz to intervene. Likely just huge overthinking of a one-off scene, but still.

The last one from Wanted is this shot of the Mercenaries in the elevator.

In this scene, Hazard briefly looks at Ballista - the pixel gremlin - and then proceeds to look away when the little guy stares back at him. Is it most likely them just finding the awkward elevator silence uncomfortable? Probably yea, but it could also be a sign of Hazard and Ballista having a rocky relationship - we see Ballista is pretty aggressive, so maybe Hazard is nervous around such a batshit crazy dude?

In "The Box", the first Hazard scene worth talking about is the first of his reactions to Victim's torture of Chosen.

We know he is a mercenary and a villain, so it should be expected that he's a cruel bastard, but still, falling asleep while watching torture is just another level. What kind of shit did Hazard see, or do himself, that he finds Victim's actions purely boring?

...and yet, just a few moments more later, Hazard has an actual reaction to Victim pulling out a lasso.

Now, the three dots - and thus, Hazard's silence of a reaction - could mean anything. Maybe he's still bored, just awake now. Maybe he's curious to see what will happen. Maybe he has actual standards. But it's still interesting to see that Victim's lasso got a reaction out of Hazard (meanwhile Ballista just crosses his arms, prob in curiosity or impatience, while Primal stays completely still - I'll get to their personalities later).

Similarly, Victim ordering Agent to clone him also gets a small reaction out of Hazard, his head jumping a little (I don't know how else to call it).

This time, it's definitely just shock/curiosity/surprise that Vic is doing something new, and/or that the Box lets you clone people, but still worth pointing out.

A long time later, we finally get something worthy of note from Hazard, that I actually find interesting. While the other mercs are too busy looking through Chosen's memories, Hazard notices Orange returning.

I feel like this was actually an intentional choice. Like, why make all the mercs focused on Chosen's memories, excluding only one of them - and it's not even the most important mercenary that's the big bad's right hand? Also, why is Hazard so far away from the other mercenaries? While I consider this whole section of the post just major overthinking, this one moment specifically is actually pretty sus to me.

Now, to close off this section, there is Haz's reaction to Super Orange.

Mainly, how he and Victim are the only ones who are inarguably scared/panicking. Primal just leans in like "de fuk", Ballista flinches once and then watches in silence, while Agent double checks on both the small and large monitor. Primal and Agent are confused, Ballista is shocked(? idk how to call it), but Hazard and Vic are the only ones with a true "OH SHIT" reaction. What this means? Idk, again this whole section is just overthinking things.

Thankfully we can leave the part where I talk meaningless shit and get into the parts that hopefully actually have a point.

Part 2 - Hazard and His (Lack of) Personality

Another part I noticed since Wanted first dropped (part of the reason why I first thought Haz was a robot) was that, compared to the other mercs, he has so little personality... which might be intentional.

I mean, Agent. He also doesn't showcase a lot of himself, but we still see that he's cool, calm, loyal to Victim, kind of a taunting asshole who plays with his victims instead of instantly getting serious, and despite it all, not unbreakable - He panicked when Chosen attacked him with the iceberg, and he was caught off-guard by Super Orange like everyone else.

Ballista probably has the most personality out of everyone. His body language shows emotion pretty much all the time: most specifically, anger. Whether it's his fighting style, his pose, or walk cycle, Ballista is pissed off 24/7. It's implied it even makes his co-workers nervous. At the same time, the grin he flashes when jumping off the ship in Wanted shows he enjoys his job.

Primal is second only to Hazard in lack of personality, but there's definitely still something there. Mainly, is that he's a very fight-focused person that is basically an empty shell outside it. He's so ready to fuck up a rhino in Wanted, and sharpens his spear for another hunt while bored, but outside of fighting Orange?... he's pretty dull. Only a bit more emotional than Hazard. He seems like a Kraven-type character who just wants to hunt the biggest prey possible, while having zero life outside it. Also he has a Hulk-style form which reduces him to an animal sapience-wise.

Hazard, though? He uhh... he wants to get Chosen, is very focused on completing the job, and that's kinda it. He's such a blank it feels intentional. Perhaps he has his own goals and is hiding them?

Part 3 - He's Either Holding Back or He's Fucking Useless

Yea not gonna sugarcoat this. There has to be some sort of big reveal of Hazard's true power in later episodes, or this dude's so weak it's laughable to think he's supposed to be a threat.

I mean, Agent has a toolbar that makes him a Mini-Animator, and he can pause anything and anyone. Ballista can shapeshift his body and pull weapons out of his ass. Primal has a stronger form that can pick up a rhino without difficulty, and he probably has more.

Hazard?

He, uh... is good at dodging. He also has this one Shock Sign that killed a bird. Yeah.

Ngl if this is all Hazard has then it's impossible for me to see him as a threat on par with the other mercs, or even Victim. Hell, I wouldn't even be able to see him as above the Stick Gang in strength, with how slow Orange was in that scene compared to his fights in the AvM Shorts.

So yeah, on top of possibly hiding his true personality/hidden motives, Hazard was most likely holding back heavily in Wanted, which only makes him more mysterious.

Part 4 - The End

So, this is kinda it. Was Part 1 all overthinking, or did I get a few things right? Is Hazard actually hiding something, or does he only show little personality because none of his scenes let him show off anything? Is he holding back his true strength, or is he actually weak?

Frankly idk, but I am excited to see where things go with this guy, as he has tons of potential.

[beevean]

So, I finally got my hands on Sonic Adventure DX. Had to test my memory card to make sure it worked before diving in.

The cutscenes are a little janky by today’s standards, but I knew that going in. But also, when I fought Chaos the first time, the camera went through the floor sometimes, when it needed to look up? Is that an intended function?

Also, are levels replayable? Otherwise I may need a guide for the Emblems…

Also, is there a way to change the music/voice volume separately? In the cutscene after Sonic finds Tails, their voices were quiet compared to the music. I’ve also managed to glitch Sonic through the floor once. What.

lmao. What version you're playing? Just curious. I assume the Gamecube one? Also no, enjoy the terrible mixing, here and especially in SA2 :P

Yeah, the animation of the cutscenes is memetically infamous, but it is what it is. I'm not familiar enough with games from 1998 to say how the average game was animated back then.

If you mean the camera moving so that it focuses on Chaos jumping from lamppost to lamppost, yes, it's intended.

You absolutely can! Either from Trial mode (which gives you an overlook of how many Emblems you've collected for each level and your personal best score), or by simply walking back in the Adventure Fields.

[itsmeglendaloraine]

What A Broken Heart Has Taught Me

I got a message from a friend telling me that he saw my ex-boyfriend. When I got his message, I couldn't help but grin. What a funny coincidence! 

Just because, lately, All Too Well by Taylor Swift was the song on repeat at the moment. I’m very happy with my love life, with no issues whatsoever at all but it’s just that time of the month when I’m “extra” about almost everything. Too emotional. Extra sensitive. Maybe this is just hormonal or whatever. But since I am learning to be kinder and more gentle with myself, let’s just consider that this is all but just the hormones talking. 

As that song of Taylor is about venting over a bad breakup, I somehow can relate to it from this ex. He and I had a bad breakup. He never apologized even when I initiated a talk with him for “closure”. 

It’s been years since we had that talk. We were on the beach with all the chilly air coming from the sea. I poured all of my heart out. I told him, with all the courage left in me, that I don’t like hearing all the things he said about me without seeing and admitting what he did wrong. Then, he just said I was being pathetic. 

It was another level of damage. Because I was expecting an apology that night. I expected so much, I thought that the first thing that he will say is “I’m sorry”. That for just that one night, he will finally say he is sorry for using me. For playing with my feelings. For gaslighting me. For being selfish the whole time of our relationship. 

Right there and then, I realized, in the most unpleasing and harshest way, that I will never, ever, live with a man like him. I don’t want to be with a man who never sees his wrongdoings, who never admits mistakes; a man who is too proud and too arrogant to say sorry. 

I told him that there was no need to walk me to the dorm where I live because I want to stay for a moment at the beach. I did that to cry and I don’t want him to see my tears. They were tears that I held back for so long. I finally let them go that night. There goes all the pain. And hurt. And anger. Frustration. 

There were no happy memories of him, all I remember was the times he took me for granted, all the mean things he said about me, all those times he pointed out all my flaws – like how my hair is not to his liking and that I mispronounced the word “meter”. As if I am not already aware of my insecurities! 

On the bright side, he left a tremendous impact on me. He was a wake-up call. An eye-opener. He made me want to love myself first and assert what I want in a relationship. He made me realize that I don’t want to settle for less. He was the standard (of the kind of man I will never marry). He became the prick that I had to put out to end my misery. 

So when my friend told me about him, I was curious if I too will bump into him. Even before, I already have these scenarios in my head of what could happen if we see each other again. Will I be able to say hi? Will he say hello? Somehow, I want to see him and know how he is but I don’t think I can risk that again. Maybe he’s changed. But, I choose to not know and just let everything go. 

I do wish him well. I dearly, truly, sincerely hope that he’s happy. And that, he already found the one that he wanted - the one he tried to impose on me. 

I truly cared for him when we were together. But, there was too much caring, and I lost myself. I had to let go. 

In my pursuit of personal development, I always believed that there is beauty in everything. All the good. All the bad. And, everything in between. All he left me was too many questions and a broken heart. Questions that I answered myself. A broken heart that I healed myself. I learned to forgive him without him asking for it. What could be a more beautiful thing?   

[a-slut-for-smut]

One Big Slutty Fuckoff List of Gloriously Smutty Alutegra fanfics :D

Greetings, fellow Alutegra sluts out there! I am but a humble whore for Alutegra for well over a decade, but finally decided it was high time to curate some of the finest, most exquisite smut of our OG girl boss/malewife ship. What spurred this on, you ask? Welp, I am guilty of sluttily luring in some of my moots aboard this ship and been promising to deliver this for AGES, so here we are years later (sorry i operate on grandma speeds!!!)

A couple things to know regarding this rec list (which may be particularly helpful for curious newcomers, horny vets feel free to scroll on down):

1.) As the title suggests, this is a smutravaganza so mostly is rated E, some M. Sorry folks, im sure there is a ton of amazing non-explicit fics but this is all i read! Also, given the very nature of the series (iirc it originally has hentai roots) it doesnt shy away from sexually kinky themes. Honestly name a kink and its probably not only been explored but likely grounded as far as canon goes. What do i mean by this? I'm only going to name a few but if any of the following get your juices flowin then Alutegra is the ship for you:

Dom/Sub BDSM (emphasis on consent)/Power play vibes- Integra is master, Alucard is her servant. As my boy Oscar Wilde said “Everything in the world is about sex — except sex. Sex is about power.” Honest to God, I don't know any ship that embodies this quote any better.

Bondage- Alucard is first discovered by Integra in a strait jacket/chains etc, and if memory serves me correctly makes several appearances throughout the series

Genderbending/fluidity- well im not sure this is the right term, but in canon Alucard can shapeshift/says he doesn't identify with a specific form/body (whether this applies to gender is up to interpretation i guess?). His "Girlycard" form is generally seen as his female form in the fandom.

Monster porn- Well, Alucard is a vampire and can shapeshift. Including a wolf/dog beast. Sky's the limit folks

Tentacle/cosmic horror porn- Alucard can conjure these shadowy tentacle thingys and a million extra eyes which serves as some sort of relevant symbolism that ive completely forgotten. Shit's hot tho (i got a cosmic horror kink shutup)

Non-penetrative sex & forbidden/taboo vibes- in canon, its established that only virgins can be turned into true vampires, everyone else turns into inhuman mindless ghouls. That said, the authors who write within the bounds of canon find very, VERY creative loopholes. Also the sheer level of pining (for penetration especially) might drive you insane no joke (proof: me). Mad respect to these authors- trust me this is sayin a lot coming from someone who actively prefers full-on penetration smut XD

2.) I am by no means a resource for canon- I watched both series YEARS ago, so my memory of the plot is shaky at best. What truly gripped me about this series is the Alutegra relationship, the true struggle in how to define their bond (or if it even can be, kudos to the fic authors that try). They are both utterly compelling characters in their own right within canon (truthfully I crush harder on Integra than Alucard) and i think the fandom absolutely recognizes that. Much of the gravitas of their bond is tied to canon, so most fics seem to understand/reflect this. No warm fuzzy coffee shop/high school AUs here folks, prepare yourselves for a truly smutty angst fest.

OK enough of that, to the smut! I'm really just commenting on the porn vs the plot so no summaries here. Oh and if any of you know the tumblr URLs of any of these authors lmk so i can tag them. Also im sure ive missed some gems, feel free to share and i'll look to add later

Welp, im going to hell and im taking you all with me- get sinning and enjoy the feast you horny hoes

One-shot porn

What It Wants and Where It Goes - by @crystallinee-waters

Femdom but goddamn its written in a way that made me ache. Alucard's sheer level of contrition, desperation for forgiveness goes beyond your standard simp energy. Top tier, i fucking LOVE how their relationship is depicted. and fun fact, i may have helped the author brainstorm some of the smuttier details <3<3

Mine - by @crystallinee-waters

Goddess at femdom and pining, but holy hell the way how explicit sexual content is approached is just *chefs kiss* I needn't remind you folks- consent is sexy as fuck and this authors fics are proof of that *sidenote - im keeping this list to smut but do yourself a favor and read ALL these authors fics, im a whore for her interpretation of their relationship

In This Darkness, I Have You by @goblins-riddles-or-frocks

What is the point of a vampire/human porn-rec list if you don't include menstrual cunnilingus smut? Also feels. Lots of feels.

Girls & Wolves by Calesvol

mmm hate-sex at its finest folks. Gotta fuck em into obedience yallwhatimsayin??

Homeostasis by Calesvol

A semi-sequel to Girls & Wolves. Very kinky smut but laced with hurt/comfort.

Kingdom of Heaven by Iggy_Lovechild

more hate-sex basically, yay. Also has a shit-ton of smutty one-shots, far too many to list- enjoy

A Queen's Throne by Anilucard

a smutty ode to Alucard's wicked, wicked tongue :D

With the Thorns Underneath by wllw

Holy femdom batman!

Loopholes by @and-i-write-sins

eyyy remember when i mentioned creative loopholes? LOL

you'd make a dead man come by valenstyne

LORD HAVE MERCY! i'll let the fic summary speak for itself: There’s more than one way to stake a vampire. Metaphorically speaking.

Pain by hypnonaut

lol this one just gets progressively kinky as it goes, but Alucard's adoration of Integra is both sweet & sexy

Tentacles of the Night by LaviniaLavender

eyyy remember when i mentioned tentacle porn? LOL

Simple Motions by @ironcladvalkyr

eyyy remember when i mentioned genderbending? but to expand on this this is probably one of the hottest things ive ever read and top tier aftercare/pillow talk

To be watched, in such silence by @ironcladvalkyr

short but smutty, the way Alucard goes on about how Integra turns him on is yums

darling, I wish you were red by @lunarcrystal

yay for cunnilingus and pining!

These fics from Cardinal_Daughter - you have to be logged in to see

Clingy - Timeline of their relationship via Integra POV.

Adore - post-canon angsty smut

Remembered - no smut but this was so achingly angsty i had to shout out

Multi chapter porn

And Though You Turn From Me - by @when-rivers-run-red

THE PINING, THE NOTICE ME SENPAI FEELS, THE TENTACLE PORN AUGHHHHHHHHH this one is a recent favorite folks, do not skip!!!

Eternal Sin by @therustycage

This post-canon multi-fic is one of my favs. Love the Alutegra interactions on how to tackle the obstacles presented in the finale, the pining, and the plot is definitely something to chew on. Slow-burn but tis a good burn

Embracing Sin by @therustycage

Sequel to Eternal Sin. Basically fluffy-porn and time travel. Delicious.

Satis by @lesmismignon

A heavy weight champ of Alutegra post-canon fics. Integra's POV on how she wrestles her feelings for Alucard- just INJECT that shit straight into my veins MMMM! Alucard's pining is top notch/the slow burn makes the smutty bits that much more exquisite. Honestly just read all her fics (one-shots) they're great

The Return by ButifulDeath

Post-canon porn with interesting plot, and fuckin hell dat smut is just *chefs kiss*

Samhain by ButifulDeath

fluffy porn one-shot sequel to The Return and it is hothothot

Like Real People Do by @my-mild-ginger

ahhh so i actually havent read this one yet as its a chonky 40 chapters (currently), seems much more fluff vs smut for those that prefer that balance

[prezaki]

hello!! i saw your lychee light club iceberg and as someone who just got into it i was curious and wondering if you could explain the last two levels of the iceberg? i havent heard of those yet

Of course!

The Zera Handprint Jacket is this piece of collab merch, with which you can have Zera grabbing your butt every day of the week:

Raizou's blog posts used to be a cute feature on the now defunct LHC website - the news blog was run entirely from her perspective, with tons of emoji, and a few nice daily life anecdotes of the club. I wish I had saved those somewhere, I somehow didn't expect the website to go down. Maybe I will check for it on waybackmachine at some point....

The 80s play details... Well, Tokyo Grand Guignol performances were pretty raw and would probably not fly under current safety regulation standards etc. They had the actors fight with real iron pipes and they used genuine pig guts to display the gore parts. It was a very specific and involved type of underground theatre.

The iron dicks are... well, the plot of the original was a little different from the plot Furuya wrote for his manga adaptation. In the original, the boys had all sworn to chastity (eternal virginity as a way of not growing up) and the way of doing so was to replace their dicks with... iron pipe dicks. Which Jaibo at some point uses to fuck a TV.

Kazuo Umezu's manga I am Shingo was part of Ameya's inspiration for writing the original play. I am Shingo is about two kids interacting with an AI that slowly gains sentience and 'a human heart', so to speak. Kanon's 80s counterpart Marin is named after the heroine of this manga.

The Gender Pancake was not as much as an incident as I make it sound, haha. In 2014 there was a pop up limited time café offering various LHC inspired foods. One of the dishes was this:

It was called something like "Raizou's androgynous maiden heart" and since at the time the fandom was much bigger and the vast majority of fans used 'he/him' pronouns for Raizou, the trans allegory of this pancake was a piece of "evidence" in the other direction.

I lost what the actual kanji for the pancake were and I do NOT trust my 2014 era translation of it much though, so the pancake is not really to be taken seriously, it's just a wacky fandom memory.

The Russian Fan Stage Play is just as it sounds. Fans put it to the stage in 2012 and it looks genuinely awesome, it's fantastic work!

And finally.... irl Hiroyuki Tsunekawa, the actor who played Zera in the original 80s play, is deeply unhappy about the success of Furuya's version overwriting the Tokyo Grand Guignol version in public consciousness. He does not believe that the more fandomified version of Furuya (and especially its spin-offs like the movie or dance show) convey any of the spirit and artistry of the original.

No video recordings of the original play remain but he does own an audio only version that he would hold showings for while the movie was also in theatres, so he could bring the original closer to people.

(Meanwhile Norimizu Ameya one of the authors of the original play and TGG troupe leader is on good terms with Furuya!)

[undercover-trio]

De request

First "I love you" with Team RWBY? The more tooth rottingly fluffy, the better. They/Them pronouns? Thanks, I love your works.

~~~~~~

Aw shucks, thanks Anon, I’m glad my works are to your liking

✨✨（*´▽｀*）✨✨

I’ll make this as sweet as I can, so sweet even I feel the sweetness radiating from my phone.

o(-`д´- 。)

-Mod Pengie

Art is by mistEcru

(。･ω･｡)ﾉ♡

——————————

Ruby

You twiddled with the music box in your hand, it was fairly small yet still quite beautiful. The rose design it had along with wines tracing along its silver surface, much alike the quality of those in stores.

Yet you made it, you created the music sheets after sleepless days, trying to translate Ruby’s favorite song into a music sheet. You studied the parts of music boxes through your scroll, you nicked your fingers many times as you shaped the metal for the box.

You worked hours on end to purchase the materials, sure it cost more to build a music box than buy one but you wouldn’t let yourself. Ruby had helped and supported you through so much, you wanted her to feel even a drop of the appreciation you felt towards her.

You did have many busts when it came to making them but you felt so proud the moment when you could make a successful one. Your head remembered the sound of her favorite song by memory given how much you played it on the music box to get it right.

As you walked towards Ruby’s dorm you felt nervous, not by the chance you’d be caught by the night guard, he already gave you permission to go.

You really hoped Ruby liked the gift, you put your all into it, it was in a cute red box with a f/c(favorite color) ribbon tying it.

The moment you knocked on her dorm door you felt all your worries wash away, you weren’t the type to have doubts. You knew Ruby, she was a precious and sweet girl who deserved the world.

You smiled at Yang as she opened the door, you looked slightly nervous and a bit tired with light bags under your eyes. It didn’t stop the genuine love she could feel coming from you, she opened the door wider to let you in as she smiled at the gift.

Ruby had her nose in a textbook, looking cutely focused as you chuckled, that caught her attention. She noticed her other three teammates walked out the dorm, leaving you and her.

“Y/N? What’s up!” She greeted cheerfully, you took off your shoes and stepped on Weiss’ bed. Ruby focused on how the candle light enhanced your features.

She looked curious as you handed her a box, you smiled and nodded at her to open it.

And she did, her eyes glossed up at the beautiful music box in front of her. She observed every detail, her being more flattered as she saw every thought you put into it.

“Play it.” You encouraged, your voice mellow from your tiredness, it was due to the hour and how much work you put into her gift.

She twisted the knob and listened to the song with you, while it wasn’t as professionally done as the ones she’d see in shops it was still welcoming.

She came to the realization you made this as her keen eyes observed the craftsmanship and details, it wasn’t impossible given you two first met in a workshop.

As the song ended her eyes were watery, this song was her favorite, it was her and her mother's song.

Red like Roses..

“I love you Ruby..I was just too nervous to say it till now, I wanted to make it special as well.

Her heart melted at your mannerism, your gift, your love, just everything in this moment.

She quickly jumped down from her bunk and tackled you into a heartfelt hug, you were a blushing and stuttering mess but she couldn’t help it.

She loved you so much in this moment.

She’s loved you for a long time.

“I love it- I love you- I just-“ Ruby was fumbling over her sentence, her feelings were overflowing.

You sat up and hugged her back, she tucked her head into your neck as she kept repeating how much she loved you.

You loved her too, and you felt fulfilled knowing that she knew.

——————————

Weiss

-Before Weiss heads to Beacon cause I wanna be unique

Weiss… was perfect in aristocratic standards, she behaved impeccably, was talented and had the charisma.

Her silvery hair never failed to perk your interest, the way all her moves were calculated and graceful. Her eyes were a beautiful sky blue, they were probably what drew you in the most.

They were free, they were bright and daring, you weren’t sure when exactly you realized your fondness of her, it just happened.

While you weren’t the most poor aristocrat you certainly weren’t the most rich. It kept you grounded, you had always been level headed yet when it came to her.. you felt all sensible thinking fade.

Perhaps that was what made you follow her to the balcony that night, you remember how you froze when you watched her beautiful features be illuminated by the shattered moon.

Her expression made you pause for a second, with a defeated smile you could help but think she didn’t belong here. An angel can’t be kept in a cage after all.

“Why the long look?” You asked, your behavior genteel as always. Sky blue met e/c, your heart beat fast at the eye contact.

To think you were only 12 at the time.

You and Weiss became acquainted, slowly it turned into friendship, you couldn’t help but admire her.

She really was a beauty among thieves, you loved it when she laughed and joked. Your heart broke when she looked defeated or down, you always strived to be there for her as she did you.

Yet.. secrets can’t always be kept forever, white lies are soon seen through, you weren’t an opaque wall rather than a tinted glass.

“I’m leaving.”

Such a simple sentence from her managed to change your mood tremendously, yet even then as you turned to meet her precious blue eyes..

You couldn’t bring yourself to stop her, she deserved to be free.

“I see.” You couldn’t bring yourself to say more without your voice breaking. She raised her eyebrow at your seemingly relaxed response, yet Weiss was perceptive.

“I’m sorry Y/N.. I just can’t keep being grouped with my family anymore.” Her voice cracked with guilt and pent up aggression, you could feel her emotions about to overflow.

Two warm hands were placed on her cheeks, Weiss couldn’t help but lean into their comfort, you gently brushed away her tears.

“Weiss, look at me.” She hesitantly looked at your face, she didn’t say a word of how it made her heart skip a beat.

“I’ve known..for a long time you don’t belong here.” You started, Weiss could only listen to the cadence of your voice as she put her hands on both your wrists.

“You were made for adventure, a thrilling life with people who care about you.” The more you spoke the less coordinated your words became, she knew you cared about her. You wished for her to get the affection she truly deserved, with the amount of people she should.

It shouldn’t just be you.

“Weiss, when I look into your eyes I see the sky.. I see freedom.. I see many beautiful things.” Her cheeks tinted at the words, you noticed, she always got like that when praised.

“And freedom isn’t caged, it's the power or right to act, speak, or think as one wants without hindrance or restraint.” She smiled wryly as she knew you quoted the dictionary, you always did when it came to words that struck you.

“Therefore.. I support you, I’ll even aid you if need be.” Her heart warmed at your words, you were always there for her, speaking and looking at her as if she were the most precious thing.

She couldn’t help her next action.

Her arms wrapped around your shoulders as her lips made contact with yours, they were soft. Her lips were pushed against yours as she tried to convey how she felt to you, smiling slightly when you wrapped your arms around her waist.

When you two separated you met her eyes, they looked back at you lovingly, the way you would always look at her.

“I love you Y/N/N.” She admitted with a smile, you were surprised and delighted. You couldn’t help the way your face melted into a sweet grin.

“And I you, Weiss.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

You met with an Angel at twelve

And with your affections you delve

The closest of friends at fifteen

Something you’d never foreseen

A kiss goodbye at seventeen

As you watched her break from her routine

——————————

Blake

Blake was scared of your affection sometimes, not that she was scared of you as a person.

It’s just that she was hurt and emotionally scarred so many times and it was hard to heal. Her emotional state was equivalent to a paper that had been crumpled then straightened out.

The marks were still there.

She wasn’t sure she could recover if you turned out the same way Adam did, yet every time you looked at her with love in your eyes she just couldn’t help but stick with you.

She felt ashamed she would always lose her voice when she would try and say she loved you, it made her think of Adam.

You noticed this of course, and every time without fail you would give her a smile and tell her it’s fine. Sure it hurt a bit but you loved Blake, you knew of her past, her emotions and traumas.

You loved every bit of her.

She had come into your dorm late one night, she was busy at the library due to the Torchwick situations. Yet she felt her heart rate increase at your sleeping face, you always were the most beautiful person to her.

Then she heard it.

“...love you..Blake.”

You had murmured it in your sleep, she knew that you loved her, she knew that you refrained from telling her that because you loved her.

Her reaction wasn’t what she expected though, instead of the dreaded fear she thought she would have she instead had a feeling of comfort, ecstasy even.

Her emotions had already come to accept that you loved her, that you weren’t Adam.

She teared up a bit of the realization, they weren’t sad tears but ones of pure and genuine delight.

While she was on her high she sat next to your body and shook you awake, you drowsily looked at her. With a sleepy smile you lift up your hoodie a bit and let her sneak underneath it.

You called it ‘Hoodie Time’, Blake found it as a good way to calm down and relax if she listened to your heartbeat.

And the added bonus she liked being in small spaces.

She felt you stroke her hair as she listened to the cadence of your heart, it was slightly fast and it only flattered her.

“Want to talk Kitten?” You asked, Blake usually did this when she was stressed. You didn’t mind though, you thought it was quite cute.

She shook her head no as she kept her right human and cat ear on your chest.

“I just wanted to say” she started as you rubbed circles on her back to keep her calm. She felt slightly nervous but your action did help.

“I love you.” She got it all out in one breath, she grew slightly worried as she noticed you stopped rubbing her back. She shook her head, you weren’t Adam and you’d never be, you were Y/N.

Her worries ended when she saw how happy your face was, you looked as though you struck gold.

You looked at her as if she just gave you the world, you didn’t want her to worry, you quickly pecked her forehead since it was fairly close to your lips.

“I love you too Blake.” You began, then you started tearing up. “I’m glad you trust me enough to say this.”

She was flabbergasted at how genuinely loving your reaction was, it made her all the more warm inside, she loved your way of love.

She loved you.

She always would.

——————————

Yang

You smiled as you felt the wind brush against your hair, the city lights always looked perfect in the night. Unfortunately the police sirens weren’t that pleasant, then again, your favorite blonde is the one who is driving right now.

She took a sharp right as you grasped onto her stomach tighter, her muscles tensed at the feeling. The feeling of your fingers brushing against her stomach caused her to lose focus for a minor second.

At least until you snapped her out of it.

“Yang!! Bascule bridge is splitting right now!!” You alerted her, her lilac eyes noticed the ship trying to pass, she immediately increased the motorcycle speed.

Unlike with Ruby, Blake and dear oum.. Weiss, you wouldn’t get scared or mad when she invited you on a thrill ride. You enjoyed it and participated, it surprised her at first given you were a pretty mellow and sweet individual.

She smiled as she heard you gasp in excitement as you two were on the motorcycle mid air, the gradient of the bridge was more than enough to lose the cops and make it to the other side.

You treasured how her hair seemed to fly in slow motion, the moon illuminating the whole scene.

The landing was a bit rough, but thanks to your semblance, aerokinesis, you guys didn’t crash into oblivion. It did slightly exhaust you to slow the velocity you guys were falling at however the adrenaline sure helped.

Luckily there were only minor scratches to bumblebee, unfortunately you both just realized that the way back to Beacon was on the other side of the bridge.

“So Yang.. how would you feel sleeping on a random roof?”

Yang merely laughed at the question and slapped your back, she was on board with it.

That question eventually led to the two of you being on a flat roof, Bumblebee was hidden in a bush right below you guys. You could use your semblance to bring you and Yang up but the bike was a bit too much for you right now.

“Best Joy ride ever!” Yang laughed out with a huge grin on her face, you chuckled at her antics and gave her a fist bump. You guys relaxed for a bit, nearing sleep before Yang turned to you, her eyes looked determined.

“Serious though, I’m glad I have you Y/N/N, I’m not able to do these things with anyone else without being called brash and dumb.” You frowned at the last words, without speaking you merely grabbed her hand as you looked at the star signs.

Ursa Major, quite ironic given you have an overprotective bear hugging friend next to you at the moment.

“Yang.. before I met you I wasn’t able to be myself, while I’m not necessarily as… extroverted as you.. my parents didn’t like my need for thrill.” You told her as you grasped her hand tighter, she too frowned at your words.

“But then I met you… this amazing, lively person, the day you first invited me to a ride like this.. I felt happy.” She blushed at your description of her yet you kept going.

“You’re not dumb, maybe a little brash but you’re still a ray of sunlight that came into my life..and I love you for it.” Your face turned crimson as you admitted those last words, she paused as she came to terms with what you said.

The two of you were still lying down as she raised her arm, you closed your eyes as she patted your soft hair.

“Gee.. you could’ve just told me you loved me..then again you wouldn’t be my Y/N if you didn’t speak a lot to get a point across.” She laughed as you started snickering at her words too, her eyes caught sight of yours as they held contact.

“I love you too Y/N.” She smiled brightly as she brought you in for a kiss, you couldn’t help but beam with happiness as well.

You loved Yang a lot, you loved her thrilling, welcoming self. And she loved you as well.

——————————

Heyo! It’s me Pengie, sorry for the late upload of this, school kept me busy, luckily Fine Line by Harry Styles came in my life(slowed down cause I’m like that) added to the angst but nyeh

Anyways I hope your teeth rotted lol, I love you simps and have a good day!

[nerdythebard]

#36: Cole, Ghost of the Spire [Dragon Age]

To whoever made this anonymous request: I did not forget about you, my darling adventurer, I promise! <3

So, to those who don't know, this Snuffkin wannabe is Cole, a once-but-not-anymore dead mage and currently one of the possible companions for the Dragon Age games. This build is gonna be so interesting, as we have to be sneaky and muddle the minds of our targets. Let's go!

Next Time: Pick a card and see your fate!

Now let's see what is needed for us to haunt our next game!

Memory Mixer: Cole has the unique ability to remove himself from a person's memory, putting them into a paranoid state of questioning their own sanity and reality.

Shadow Stabber: In the game, Cole is a master assassin, able to blend into shadows and make the most use of his faithful daggers. The game even lists him as a Rogue and Assassin, so... we've got our work cut out for us, right? ...Right?

Dead Man Walking: Cole died. Or, at least a version of him did. The Cole we're looking at now is actually the Spirit of Compassion taking his form.

---

Starting with Cole's race... there is no spirit-turned-human, but the Reborn from Van Richten's Guide to Ravenloft is a pretty close second. We're going to modify it a little bit, though; getting the standard +2 and +1 bonus to two abilities of our choice (Dexterity and Charisma respectively), but we're going to get rid of the Ancestral Legacy feat, replacing it with the Fey Touched feat. It increases our Intelligence, Wisdom, or Charisma by 1, and lets us cast the Misty Step spell and one 1st-level spell of our choice: Sense Emotion lasts for 10 minutes (concentration) and gives us one of Cole's signature abilities as the Spirit of Compassion. Thanks to our Deathless Nature, we don’t need to eat, drink, or sleep (and magic can’t put us to sleep), and we have an advantage on both Death Saving Throws and saving throws against being poisoned (and resistance to poison damage). Occasionally, we can experience Knowledge from a Past Life, where we can roll extra 1d6 to an ability check that uses a skill. We can do it a number of times equal to our proficiency bonus, and we regain all uses when we finish a long rest.

The Spirit of Compassion is a foreigner to the lands of the living, so making Cole the Far Traveller seems appropriate. We gain proficiency in Insight and Perception, and with one musical instrument, we learn one language of our choice, and we get the All Eyes on You feature; our mannerisms and general behaviour is considered odd by the general public. We might be often asked to tell stories and explain things about ourselves, but that might also bring us a curious eye of a local noble, etc.

ABILITY SCORES

We'll start with Dexterity, we need to be the sharp and nimble blade in the crowd. Charisma will be next, chatting targets up is a good skill for an assassin. Constitution follows, we don't seem to be wearing any armour. We should be able to take some damage though.

We follow that up with Wisdom. Compassion does require some level of empathy and understanding life on a less academic base. Strength will be on the lower end, and we'll drop Intelligence - not a lot of opportunity to learn theory when you're a ghost.

CLASS

Level 1 - Bard: Yes. I know in the game we are told explicitly Cole is a Rogue and an Assassin. We'll get there, no worries. For now, we must focus on some mental manipulation. Bards get d8 as their Hit Dice, [8 + our Constitution modifier] initial Hit Points, proficiency with light armour, simple weapons, hand crossbows, longswords, rapiers, and shortswords, as well as three musical instruments of our choice. We can give Cole some light armour, as well as a dagger for the covert assassin work. Our saving throws are Dexterity and Charisma, and we get to choose any three skills (Stealth, Acrobatics, and Sleight of Hand).

Bards start with Bardic Inspiration, which lets us enhance our allies' capabilities (which can mean supporting them with Compassion :D). We get a pool of d6 Inspiration Dice equal to our Charisma modifier, which we can give to another creature as a bonus action. The inspired creature can add the die to one skill check, attack roll, or saving throw they make. The value of our ID changes as we level up.

Bards are also full-casters, so we get Spellcasting right away. Charisma is our casting ability, and we know cantrips and rituals. Bards know a fixed amount of spells and start with two cantrips:

Friends is a minor charm cantrip, which grants us advantage on all Charisma checks directed at one non-hostile target for 1 minute (concentration). When the spell ends, the creature realizes it's been charmed.

Mind Sliver is a weak psychic attack that can disorient the enemy. The target must make the Intelligence saving throw or suffer 1d6 psychic damage and if they make a saving throw before the end of our next turn, they must subtract 4 from the result.

We also start with four 1st-level spells:

Charm Person is a classic enchantment that forces a Wisdom saving throw onto one target within 30 feet of us. On a failed save, the target is charmed by us for 1 hour. When the spell ends, the target realizes they've been charmed.

Command forces a Wisdom saving throw onto one target within 60 feet of us. On a failed save, we can issue a one-word command, which the target has to execute to the best of their abilities. The command cannot make the target hurt themselves directly, and it doesn't work on the undead or creatures that can't hear or understand us.

Feather Fall protects up to five creatures within 60 feet of us from dropping down like flies (before, well, we make them drop with our stab skills). As a reaction, we can slow down the rate of descent for us and creatures around us. If we touch the ground before the spell ends (1 minute, concentration), we take no fall damage.

Id Insinuation unleashes a wave of conflicting desires onto the mind of one target within 60 feet; they must make a Wisdom saving throw or be incapacitated for 1 minute (concentration). Additionally, at the end of each turn they take 1d12 psychic damage.

Level 2 - Bard: We learn Song of Rest, which lets us enhance our party's healing during short rest; whenever our allies use their Hit Dice to restore Hit Points, they get extra 1d6 Hit Points back. Thanks to Jack of All Trades, we can add half of our proficiency bonus (rounded down) to any check connected to skills we're not proficient in.

We also learn another 1st-level spell: Sleep affects all creatures within 20 feet radius. We roll 5d8 and the result is the total amount of Hit Points affected by the spell; for example, if we roll 25, we can put to sleep one creature with Hit Points 25 or lower, or a number of creatures with Hit Points adding up to 25 or lower.

Level 3 - Bard: With Expertise we can choose two skills we're proficient in (let's pick Stealth and Insight) and double our proficiency bonus for all checks we make with them.

We also get to pick our first subclass, our College. For Cole, who moves in the shadows and is nothing more than a whisper, we're gonna pick College of Whispers. This lets us play a little more into Cole believing he's a demon. Psychic Blades lets us imbue our weapon attacks with toxic magic; when we make a melee weapon attack, we can spend one Inspiration Die to add 2d6 psychic damage once per turn. Words of Terror infuse our speech with the same toxic magic. Once per short rest, if we speak to a target for at least 1 minute, we can force a Wisdom saving throw onto them to make them frightened of us or another creature of our choice. On a failed save, the target is frightened for 1 hour or until it is attacked or takes damage.

We also unlock 2nd-level spells: Gift of Gab is a minor version of Cole's ability to not be remembered. By sacrificing 2 gold pieces, we can erase the last six seconds of conversation from all targets within 5 feet of us.

Level 4 - Bard: Time for our first Ability Score Improvement! Let's bump our Constitution and Dexterity. We also learn another cantrip: Mending lets us fix any tear or break no larger than 1 foot in diameter. The spell can also repair magic objects but cannot restore the magic.

For this level's spell, Invisibility makes us unseen for 1 hour (concentration) or until we attack or cast a spell.

Level 5 - Rogue: Jumping ships for a moment, we need to work on our stab-ability. Multiclassing into Rogue gives us proficiency with light armour (which we already have), thieves' tools, and we get to pick one class skill (Persuasion). Rogues start with Expertise, so we're clear to pick two more skills (Sleight of Hand and Acrobatics). We also know Thieves' Cant, which is a system of phrases and symbols we can use to encrypt a message or recognize places and people associated with rogues and criminal activity. Finally, we get Sneak Attack; whenever we attack with an advantage (or a target is next to another creature hostile towards it), we add extra damage to our attacks. We start with 1d6 extra damage.

Level 6 - Rogue: With Cunning Action we can use the Dash, Disengage, and Hide actions as bonus actions.

Level 7 - Rogue: Our Sneak Attack bonus is now 2d6.

We also pick our second subclass, our Roguish Archetype. And yes, we're sticking to what the game tells us. We're taking the Assassin archetype. With Assassinate, we have an advantage (and can therefore use Sneak Attack) on every creature that a turn in combat, and all attacks we use on them count as Critical Hit. We also gain proficiencies with the disguise kit and the poisoner's kit.

Level 8 - Rogue: Time for another ASI. Let's raise our Charisma by two points before jumping classes yet again.

Level 9 - Bard: Coming back to the showman class for a moment, we gain Font of Inspiration; we can now recover our Inspiration Dice during a short or long rest. Our IDs also change from d6 to d8.

We also unlock 3rd-level spells: Nondetection lasts for 8 hours and completely shields us (or any creature/object we touch) from any form of divination magic and scrying spells.

Level 10 - Bard: Halfway through the build and we learn Countercharm. As an action, we can spend the entire round to perform a protective charm which grants all friendly creatures within 30 feet of us advantage against being frightened or charmed. The effect ends if we are incapacitated, silenced, or we choose to dismiss it.

We also get another subclass upgrade. Thanks to Mantle of Whispers, we can assume the form of a humanoid that died within 30 feet of us by capturing their shadow. We can store it for later use (it remains until the next short or long rest). The disguise lasts for 1 hour and we gain access to surface thoughts and basic information about the creature whose shadow we're wearing.

For this level's spell, Dispel Magic ends one magical effect (even affecting people and objects) within 120 feet radius. Spells of 3rd level and lower end immediately; for higher level spells, we need to roll an ability check with our casting ability against the DC of [10 + the spell's level]. Alternatively, if we cast this spell using a spell slot of 4th-level or higher, we immediately end one spell as long as the slot we used matches the spell or is higher.

Level 11 - Bard: We don't get any new class features, but we do unlock 4th-level spells. Dimension Door lets us teleport up to 500 feet to a location we can see, visualize or describe. We can also bring objects and one willing creature.

Level 12 - Bard: For another ASI, we're going to raise our Constitution by two points again. For this level's spell, we're gonna get Locate Creature to pinpoint our assassination targets better. For 1 hour (concentration), we know the location of a creature we name, as long as it's within 1 000 feet of us.

Level 13 - Bard: This is our final level in this class. Our Song of Rest changes from a d6 to a d8. We also unlock 5th-level spells, and we can finally get Cole's memory power! The Modify Memory spell forces a Wisdom saving throw on one creature within 30 feet of us. On a failed save, we can reshape the target's memory about an event from the last 24 hours. We must concentrate on a spell for 1 minute for it to take hold. When we do, only the Remove Curse or Greatest Restoration can fix the target.

Level 14 - Rogue: Time to get better with those knives. Our Sneak Attack bonus is now 3d6, and we get Uncanny Dodge. Whenever we can see the attack we're hit with, we can use our reaction to reduce the damage by half.

Level 15 - Rogue: We get another shot at Expertise. We can now boost our Perception and Persuasion.

Level 16 - Rogue: Our Sneak Attack is now 4d6. We also get one of the best abilities in the game: Evasion. Whenever we are forced to make a Dexterity saving throw that would make us take half damage on a success, we instead take no damage (and half damage if we fail).

Level 17 - Rogue: For another ASI, we're actually going to raise our Intelligence by two to get rid of the negative modifier.

Level 18 - Rogue: Our Sneak Attack is now 5d6. We also get another subclass upgrade, Infiltration Expertise. By spending seven days and 25 gold pieces, we can create a false identity for ourselves completed with documentation, clothing, and everything to certify our identity. We cannot assume somebody else's identity.

Level 19 - Rogue: For the final ASI of this build, we're gonna cap our Dexterity to a full 20.

Level 20 - Rogue: Our capstone is Rogue 11. For the final confrontation, our Sneak Attack is now 6d6. We also get Reliable Talent; whenever we make an ability check that adds our proficiency bonus, we cannot roll lower than 10.

---

And that's how I would play Cole in D&D! Let's see what we got:

First of all, with a combination of Bard and Rogue, we're a skill master. We have Expertise in all skill we're proficient with, and the rest is affected by Jack-of-all-Trades. Additionally, Reliable Talent makes it impossible for us to roll a Nat 1 on any skill, as Jack applies some of our proficiency bonus into non-proficient skills, so I would allow it. We also make our enemies abuse their Wisdom saving throws which, although the most common, are also the most useful.

Our AC is 16, we have a +4 to our Initiative and the average of 149 Hit Points.

We do have several resources to manage (Inspiration Dice, spell slots, Sneak Attack dice), and our spells aren't really damage-dealing. Plus, we only have one spell slot to cast our signature trait, Modify Memory.

---

Phew. That was a lot. The anonymous submitter was right, this really was a challenge. I'm sorry it took so long, it's been a difficult time since my last update, but I hope we can kick off some good vibes now. I love you all, hope you're having a great day, and I'll see you in the next one!

- Nerdy out!

[robininthelabyrinth]

Tedious Joys - Chapter 2 -

- Ao3 link -

“If you want A-Jue at this time of day, he’ll be at the training field,” Lao Nie said, standing up and immediately striding off in that direction. “Oh, and Qiren, I will warn you – he has his mother’s height.”

Lan Qiren rolled his eyes as he followed behind. “That’s helpful information,” he remarked. “Right up until you recall that I have never had the pleasure of meeting his mother –”

He stopped talking and stared.

“I didn’t think a further explanation was necessary,” Lao Nie said. He wasn’t quite at the level of sniggering into his sleeve, but he certainly had a shit-eating grin. Lao Nie was not a short man by any standard, although he was squatter, more muscular and more broad-shouldered than the tall and slender Lan sect  – and yet…

“He’s under ten,” Lan Qiren checked, and Lao Nie nodded. “You’re sure.”

“I was present at the birth myself, and have cared for him ever since. And before you ask, I may be busy with my duties as sect leader, but I still feel like I would have noticed someone swapping him out for a child several years older.”

Lan Qiren squinted out at the training field, where a child (and it was a child, given the amount of baby fat in his cheeks, even if the overall size was more what he’d expect of a teenager) was happily dismembering a training dummy with an especially fearsome-looking saber under the tolerant supervisory gaze of the training master.

“Lao Nie,” Lan Qiren finally said. “About that first wife of yours…you would tell me if she were an actual giant – or a goddess –”

Lao Nie laughed and patted him on the back. He did not answer the question.

“A-Jue! Come here!” he shouted, and Nie Mingjue – demonstrating excellent discipline – completed his strike before turning around and trotting over to his father. “Say hello to Teacher Lan.”

“Teacher Lan,” Nie Mingjue said obediently, saluting properly like every small child introduced to a stranger, and then looked up. A smile suddenly spread over his face. “Oh, Teacher Lan! Fighting without permission is prohibited!”

Lan Qiren choked and Lao Nie burst out laughing.

“That was seven years ago,” Lan Qiren protested, and Lao Nie only howled more. “You were an infant. How do you even remember that?”

“It was interesting!” Nie Mingjue beamed. “You said that every word in the rule is like a principle – even if you have the rule, you have to agree on what it means. What counts as fighting, what counts as permission, what counts as prohibited…I use it lots!”

“He has a good memory,” Lao Nie said, wiping his eyes. “You should hear how many profanities he’s learned.”

“I would rather not,” Lan Qiren said hastily, because Nie Mingjue looked on the verge of volunteering to recite them. “Nie Mingjue, can you show me around?”

“Of course, Teacher Lan! Let me just put Baxia away first; I’m not allowed to carry her outside the training field yet. Unless there’s an accident, of course.”

Lan Qiren did not ask. As a sect leader who did not share a border with Qishan Wen, he didn’t think he had the right.

“Take your time,” he said, putting his hands behind his back and watching as Nie Mingjue ran away.

“Would it help to have me there?” Lao Nie asked, and nodded when Lan Qiren shook his head. “I’ll leave you two to it.”

Lan Qiren did not put forward any requests, curious to see where Nie Mingjue would take him, and was reluctantly charmed by the fact that their first destination was the nursery, where several pudgy toddlers of indeterminable age were sleeping.

“My baby brother,” Nie Mingjue explained, very seriously, inadvertently driving home that the fact that he was as tall as Lan Qiren’s elbow didn’t make him any older than he was. “He’s little.”

Lan Qiren couldn’t even tell which one of the indiscriminate toddlers wrapped in blankets was meant to be Nie Huaisang, but he nodded, and Nie Mingjue led him onwards, initially mostly silent with belated shyness but eventually coaxed into chattering.

In the evening, he returned to Lao Nie’s study.

“Well?” Lao Nie asked, face creased into the scowl he had on more often than not, despite being widely considered one of the more even-tempered Nie. “What do you think?”

“I think your son is a bright and enthusiastic boy,” Lan Qiren said. “With a remarkable sense of justice and morality that will serve him well, although maybe not so much in terms of politics. He’s very…straightforward.”

“Yes, well, I’m still holding out hope on A-Sang for the tact,” Lao Nie said. “That wasn’t my question and you know it.”

Lan Qiren tried to collect his thoughts. “I don’t think you’ve damaged him for life,” he finally said, and Lao Nie’s shoulders relaxed in a sudden exhalation of what was probably months of increasing stress. “I do think he would benefit from understanding a little bit more about what’s happening to him.”

“But he’s so young.”

“I know. Normally, I wouldn’t introduce the subject of his own mortality at this level of complexity this early – although I assume it’s hard for him to miss the concept entirely, given the political situation –” Lao Nie winced in acknowledgment. “– but I don’t think you have much of a choice. You’re not the only one who noticed the saber spirit.”

Lao Nie frowned, then understood, and frowned even deeper. “He’s noticed it?”

“I got him talking on the subject of his saber,” Lan Qiren said. “He regards it in the same manner as other children his age would an imaginary friend. It’s female, apparently.”

Based on the description, Baxia also had what he would, in one of his students, term a personality. He supposed it was possible that Nie Mingjue was just projecting the parts of himself that weren’t quite fit for company, since surely no one could be that earnest, and yet, based on what Lao Nie had told him…

Lao Nie groaned and put his hand to his head. “Jiwei didn’t develop a sense of gender for years,” he grumbled, and Lan Qiren was moderately certain that he hadn’t intended to admit that out loud. “This is ridiculous. I want him to live a good life, Qiren. A long one, insofar as that’s possible for our sect.”

“I’ll try to do some research,” Lan Qiren said. “In the meantime, could he be convinced to cultivate something else in addition to a saber? Music, perhaps?”

“You’re welcome to try. He’s practically tone-deaf.”

“Perhaps arrays, then, or talismans,” Lan Qiren said. “It would do him some good to find another thing to pour all that energy of his into.”

“I’ll think about it,” Lao Nie allowed. “And I appreciate any research you’re able to do, though of course there are limitations on your time – and what we can allow to be taken out of the Unclean Realm.”

Lan Qiren waved a hand. “It’s nothing. I enjoy keeping busy, and the subject is fascinating. Have you considered that regular visits by me might draw attention?”

Attention from within their sects they could handle, but they were both sect leaders – or acting sect leader, in Lan Qiren’s case – and their actions could never truly be wholly their own.

“I have a plan for that,” Lao Nie said. “It’ll work better if you don’t know about it, though.”

Lan Qiren hated plans like that.

“Very well,” he said, aware that he sounded like he was sulking. “If you must.”

“Could I send him to you next year?” Lao Nie asked, and Lan Qiren forgot his grumpiness to gape at him. “I wouldn’t impose this year, naturally, since you must already have a curriculum planned. But next year…”

“If you send him, that will be making a statement,” Lan Qiren said.

A statement about what, exactly, he did not know, but there was a major difference between being the sort of teacher that was respected enough to teach the sect heirs of some small, out-of-the-way sects and being entrusted with the childhood education of the heir to a Great Sect. Even if Nie Mingjue learned nothing, which seemed unlikely given his earnest performance from earlier, the other small sects would immediately want to follow suit, as if to rub off some of the same luck for themselves – he would be flooded with applicants.

His sect elders were going to hate it.

Although it wasn’t exactly against any of the rules…

“That’s why I’m asking your permission.” Lao Nie grinned at him, his teeth flashing white under his nearly trimmed beard. “Also, while you’re our guest here – you did plan to stay at least a week or two, right? Good, good. I will insist upon you joining me for some night-hunts.”

“Lao Nie…”

“I’ve explained to you how my sect cultivates our sabers. Are you really saying that you can judge that without seeing it happening?”

“You know perfectly well that I’m a weak fighter,” Lan Qiren said, even though that was a very good point, and one he probably would have insisted on himself sooner or later. “I don’t want to slow you down.”

“You never have,” Lao Nie said right to his face – the Nie sect did not discourage all lying, the scoundrels. “I’m serious! You’re not the fastest, no, but you’re perceptive, analytical, and creative. The insights I gain from hunting by your side are long-term gains, making me faster and more efficient in the future.”

“You’re flattering me,” Lan Qiren said suspiciously.

“I am not. The first time we went on a night-hunt together, you stopped by the river to rest and told me about how the flowers growing there were unique because they absorbed spiritual energy but not resentful energy on account of being too close to flowing water; three years later, I used that fact to find a gigantic nest of ghosts and demonic creatures that were using it as camouflage. They’d killed nearly a dozen villagers by that point and no one else could find them, but I did.”

Lan Qiren felt his ears heating up. “…that’s a coincidence.”

“Do you really want me to start naming other examples?”

“I would rather you showed me your library,” Lan Qiren said. He hoped he wasn’t blushing. He was probably blushing. No one else ever teased him the way Lao Nie did, except maybe Cangse Sanren. He was suddenly hit by a nostalgic desire to see her again. “At once, if you please. And also…”

He trailed off.

“Why the hesitation?” Lao Nie asked. “Do you really think there’s anything I would deny you, as long as you find a way to help my son?”

Lan Qiren cleared his throat. “It would be helpful if I could examine a more mature saber spirit that has already bonded to a human master. Your Jiwei, for instance.”

As he expected, Lao Nie scowled at the suggestion of someone else examining his spiritual weapon – and his saber spirit, no less – but after a few moments he collected himself and nodded, albeit begrudgingly. “I’ll leave her with you,” he said. “Be careful when you examine her – she doesn’t like to be touched by anyone but me.”

Lao Nie’s warning turned out to be both true, untrue, and an understatement of frankly shocking proportions.

During the course of Lan Qiren’s investigations into the subject of the Nie sect sabers over the next few months, and thereafter, he determined that the best, if not only, way to deal with Jiwei was to act as though he were handling a particularly vicious and single-minded dog.

Jiwei, it seemed, liked to bite.

If one treated her like a normal saber – an inert piece of metal – she would appear completely quiescent right up until there would be an abrupt and inexplicable accident, clattering off the table with the blade curving straight at clothing and flesh, and only very quick reflexes could prevent disaster. If one attempted to utilize spiritual energy with her, it would be even worse: she would pull as much as she could and feed back nothing, spiteful and ruthless.

A vicious creature, too quick to judge, loyal only to her master, who she loved.

A bit like Lao Nie, in fact. Lan Qiren did not delude himself into mistaking Lao Nie’s passion for righteousness – Nie Mingjue was righteous, a serious child that was always wondering what was right, while Lao Nie was more inclined towards brutal, even callous, practicality that focused on what benefited him and his sect. He would do good, of course, but he could not be forced into it; he had his pride, his temper, and sometimes he erred too much in favor of those over even common sense.

But despite all his rough edges, he did truly love his friends.

He dragged Lan Qiren all over Qinghe whenever he visited, on night-hunts and to resolve minor conflicts, the sort of thing any normal traveling cultivator might do; he showed him the small towns and the hidden cities that Lan Qiren would not have seen on any normal visit, and asked him to play songs for his little family. Nie Huaisang was enraptured by the music, Nie Mingjue largely indifferent – Lao Nie had not been wrong to call him practically tone-deaf – and Lao Nie beaming all the while, even if Lan Qiren suspected that his eldest son’s lack of musical appreciation had largely come from him.

He even, after a stray comment, managed to track down Cangse Sanren, who brought her husband and son to the Unclean Realm and left them in Nie Mingjue’s earnest care while she sat with the two of them, drinking liquor as if it were water to the point that even Lao Nie refused to compete with her – when his protests were eventually overridden, Lan Qiren (who drank tea, of course) was roped in to be their long-suffering judge.

It was a good night.

“Is that another thing I took from you?” He Kexin unexpectedly asked Lan Qiren a week after Lao Nie had publicly announced that he would be sending Nie Mingjue to the Cloud Recesses for Lan Qiren’s classes. The ensuing hubbub, as Lan Qiren expected, had been enormous, and he’d braced himself to discuss nothing else for months, although he hadn’t really expected her to mention it.

The Cloud Recesses separated men and women, and He Kexin had borne two sons; they were old enough by now to live primarily with the men rather than the women, and so they had entered Lan Qiren’s care. He brought them to visit her once a month, and came himself like clockwork every two weeks in between to update her as to their progress, his eyes fixed firmly above her head as he narrated the report as if he were a junior returning from a night-hunt. It was not her fault that his brother had fallen in love with her and ruined Lan Qiren’s life, but it had been her decision to murder a man that had served as the trigger for the situation; Lan Qiren was meticulous about his duty to her as his sister-in-law, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. Or her.

By this point, she was moderately good at respecting that. In the beginning, she’d cursed him viciously every time he came to see her, especially after he’d provided her with definitive proof of her former friend’s lies and machinations. Later, she’d tried flirting with him out of what he could only assume was boredom or perhaps a willful misunderstanding as to why he still visited, assuming that he had perfidious motivations or shared his brother’s taste in women instead of suffering from an overdeveloped sense of responsibility for his brother’s misdeeds. It had taken him several months and, eventually, an explicit offer to even notice, and he’d nearly broken his neck fleeing from the scene.

“I don’t understand what you mean,” he said, still looking above her head instead of at her face. He Kexin had A-Huan’s smile and A-Zhan’s eyes, he knew that, but if he could scrub all of her other features from his mind, he would.

“Sect Leader Nie,” she said, and it was so odd to hear someone refer to Lao Nie by his formal title outside of a political situation or deliberate insult – even Wen Ruohan habitually called him Lao Nie by now, and as far as Lan Qiren could tell, they despised each other – that Lan Qiren’s eyes actually dropped to meet hers. “If you weren’t sect leader, you could’ve married him.”

Lan Qiren choked on air. “Do you think of nothing but sex all day?” he spat out, his cheeks going red. “We are friends.”

“I don’t have much else to think of,” He Kexin said, and he glared as if to communicate whose fault is that and maybe in your next life you won’t solve your problems with murder. “I heard you’ve been spending a lot of time with him, and now he’s sending his son to your care. It’s suggestive.”

“Talking behind the backs of others is forbidden,” Lan Qiren reminded her, and she shrugged. “Do I need to discipline your servants?”

“It’s news, not gossip,” she said. “And no, these ones are fine. No one’s playing any tricks.”

There had been an incident early on, where a few of the servants assigned to care for He Kexin had mistaken her confinement for abandonment; they had not expected Lan Qiren to grimly continue visiting as he would have done if she had been his sister-in-law in the normal course of things, nor to listen when she complained. He had of course taken all necessary measures to have the offenders harshly disciplined and expelled, replaced with servants of good character and sufficient intelligence to keep her company without seeking to take advantage, and there had been no new incidents since.

Her punishment was confinement, not torment. No matter what Lan Qiren felt about her, she would receive exactly that – neither more nor less.

“Is it Cangse Sanren, then?” she asked, propping her head up on her chin. “You fell in love with her, and then she married another man…”

“Sometimes people are just friends,” he said, irritated. “Why must I be in love with anyone?”

He Kexin shrugged. “Don’t you want to marry, one day? Have children of your own, rather than always reporting back to me on mine?”

“I’m acting sect leader,” Lan Qiren said tightly. “A marriage, much less children, would give rise to accusations that I was seeking to usurp my brother’s place or my nephews’ inheritance.”

“So it is another thing I’ve done,” she said, looking down at her hands. They were clenched tightly into fists, her knuckles white; sometimes Lan Qiren thought she wanted to punch him as a means of venting her feelings, and sometimes he didn’t even blame her for it. “I had only been thinking about it in the sense that you couldn’t leave, but you can’t even bring anyone back.”

“I don’t especially want to, anyway,” he said, because it was true. Even if she was right, that even his right to marry freely had been taken from him, it didn’t mean that she had the right to use it as a whip on her own back. If Lan Qiren couldn’t bring himself to obey the rule about not holding grudges, he could at least follow the ones about being generous and easy on others. “I haven’t found the right person.”

“And it’s really not Lao Nie?” He Kexin asked. “You go to visit him often, and for longer periods, than you go anywhere else, and A-Huan says you look happy whenever you’re going to go.”

Lan Qiren shrugged. He was happy to go. He enjoyed Lao Nie’s company, and the research, even when Lao Nie was too busy for him personally, and Lao Nie’s role as an allied sect leader meant that Lan Qiren had more latitude in arranging such visits than he did to other places.

“…A-Zhan says that your hands are white when you return.”

Lan Qiren’s eyes dropped to his arms, where there was in fact some white peeking out from beneath his sleeves – white bandages on his left wrist and the two smallest fingers on his right hand, this time, from the latest incident in which Jiwei had tried to slash him, but it was barely a nick in comparison with previous instances; he thought that it was a sign that they might be getting somewhere.

A moment later, he realized the implications of her statement and glared at her. “You’re not seriously asking if Lao Nie is abusing me? Weren’t you asking about my marriage prospects with him only a moment ago?”

“The two are not mutually exclusive,” she said dryly. “And the Nie temper is well known.”

“It’s from research,” Lan Qiren said. “I dropped a saber and I knocked over the table on to my other hand when trying to dodge.”

“I believe you,” she said, lips twitching. “If only because you would’ve come up with a more dignified excuse if it was a lie.”

“I don’t actually have to explain myself to you,” he said, reminding himself as much as her. “Is there anything else you want to know about your sons?”

“No,” she said. “But I’d like my husband to visit me again, if you can arrange it.”

He nodded stiffly.

“You know,” she said, playing idly with her sleeves. “If you never marry, I’ll be the closest thing you ever have to a wife? You manage my house, you raise my children, and you even provide me with services in bed, albeit indirectly.”

Do not succumb to rage, Lan Qiren thought to himself, and left without another word.

(Later, when Cangse Sanren next visited the Cloud Recesses, her husband taking A-Huan on a ride on their donkey with A-Zhan and A-Ying tucked into the saddlebags, she listened to him stammer through the whole humiliating story and gnashed her teeth on his behalf. “Don’t listen to her,” she told him. “By that standard, the rabbits she likes to raise are her concubines.”)

His simmering anger made his next session with Jiwei flow more easily, almost as if the saber spirit empathized with his rage – or perhaps it was simply that she found it more familiar, more reminiscent of the temper of her true master, and therefore less objectionable. He was attempting to draw out some part of her anger through music and store it into a jade pendant: his theory was that the eventual qi deviations of the Nie sect leaders resulted from a lack of balance with the resentful energy utilized by the saber spirit – the negative emotions streaming in through the saber, strengthening it, but having no means of cleansing beyond outbursts of temper.

It had been the way Nie Mingjue spoke of his saber spirit as if she were his friend that had given him the idea. Many in the Nie sect treated their sabers with both reverence and fear, as if the spirits were vicious creatures they had only temporarily tamed and which would one day turn upon them, but Jiwei was passionately loyal to Lao Nie, and Baxia to Nie Mingjue. Perhaps it was his inheritance as a Lan showing, or merely his own experience with his brother, but Lan Qiren simply could not understand how anything that loved so unstintingly, so unreservedly, could ever bring themself to intentionally bring about their beloved one’s destruction.

Even a dog would refuse to bite a master it loved unless it had gone mad.

Therefore, he concluded, it was not merely the human wielder but the saber itself that deviated in their cultivation. Lao Nie had once said in an aside that it was unclear what came first, the Nie sect tempers or the saber spirit-incited outbursts, and although he had meant it as a joke, Lan Qiren thought there was some merit to the question. Rage served a valuable purpose for humans, acting as a warning sign that something was wrong, that something was unacceptable, rejection and protection all at once, but rage that could not be excised would turn rancid and sour, like a poisoned wound. Sabers were cultivated by their masters and resembled them – they were filled with human rage, intensified by their cultivation of resentful energy, but unlike a human they could not shout or hit something or vent in any way other than through hunting.

No wonder Jiwei was so content after a night-hunt; no wonder Nie sect cultivators got irritable when they hadn’t had time to cultivate their sabers or fight evil or just get out and do something. But with limited venting opportunities (humans could not fight evil all the time), the sabers would fall into obsession, infected by the very same resentful energy that they excised when they hunted – their bloodlust simultaneously sated and inflamed – and as their power grew, and their true opponents grew fewer, they would become insatiable and, eventually, unbalanced. Demonic cultivation was abhorred by the cultivation world because it opened the door to obsession and fixation, and the most common way that demonic cultivators died, if not executed by the world, was through a backlash of their own power. Obsession was by its nature rigid, and that was the sole weakness of the saber: they had to be rigid, but never too rigid, or else they would become brittle, would break.

Deviation.

It was a very interesting theory, even if Lao Nie’s eyes glazed over whenever Lan Qiren tried to explain. Lan Qiren didn’t take offense: Lao Nie had always been an exceptionally practical man, more interested in results than theories, actions rather than thoughts.

“Aren’t you disappointed?” Lan Qiren asked him at one point, abrupt as he always seemed to be about such things. “That I haven’t gotten anywhere?”

Lao Nie looked surprised. “What do you mean? You have a valid theory, you’ve tried all sorts of things.”

“I haven’t succeeded.”

Lao Nie laughed. “My friend, this is a problem that has stymied my sect for generations. Did you really think you’d be able to solve it in three weeks?”

Lan Qiren scowled. “It’s been closer to three years.”

“You’ve made progress,” Lao Nie said confidently. “A-Jue has as solid a foundation as I could hope for, and all those conversations you have with him about the nature of ethics and morality have had an excellent effect on his saber.”

“Has it?” Lan Qiren asked, skeptical. Even the Nie sect experts agreed that Baxia was unusually vicious for a saber, powerful enough to frighten wild yao simply with her presence – Nie Mingjue’s cultivation remained shockingly fast, and even Lan Qiren, who had only a few years understanding of the saber spirits, could recognize the effects of it.

“It has,” Lao Nie said firmly. “He doesn’t fear her, and she loves him all the more for it, backs him like none other; no other saber of his generation will so much as waver out of line with Baxia behind them. As for the rest…ah, Qiren, if you can figure out a way to stymie the saber spirit even a little – give him even another decade – I’ll be satisfied. Don’t worry about it.”

Lan Qiren huffed and returned to trying to transfer spiritual energy from Jiwei to the pendant.

“Besides, all this time spent on the project has had at least one good effect,” Lao Nie added, putting his hand on Lan Qiren’s shoulder as he played. “I get the pleasure of your company.”

Lan Qiren’s attention was fixed on his playing, but the hand was warm on his shoulder. “That hardly seems so much of a benefit,” he said absently.

“You underestimate yourself. Do you know, outside of my sect, I think you’re my best friend?”

Only years of training allowed Lan Qiren’s fingers to continue to move smoothly over the guqin strings when his heart seized in his chest, warm and hot and squished and painful and pleasurable at the same time.

He did not allow himself to ask “Really?” like a small child, insecure and uncertain, did not permit himself to say “even above my brother”, did not say anything at all.

“Thank you,” he finally said, stiff and wooden. “I…you as well.”

[intergalacticwanderer]

Some random thoughts/headcanons on how I currently categorize things for the purple tiefling, in a sort of metaphysical/personhood sense:

First up, Lucien in the beginning, OG inhabitant of the body and fairly straight forward, just has the soul he started with. Vess shattering the soul is when things start to get Weird.

Next up is Molly, rolling with the assumption that Lucien was telling the truth that Molly started out as a fragment of Lucien’s shattered soul. He has his base from Lucien, some remnants, but due to different circumstances of how he’s raised and the trauma that the soul went through he becomes a separate entity. Personally, I like to think that over time the soul fragment actually grew into an entirely new soul due to the life he lived and the time it had to heal. Mollymauk, in a way, could be seen as a look at what Lucien could have become if his life had been different and had met different people, but even then he’s still Not Lucien, as evidenced by the fact that the original plan Matt had was for Lucien to chase Molly around to try and get the body back.

Post resurrection Lucien is similar to how he was at the beginning, but there’s the key difference of Molly’s soul being shoved back in there like an ill fitting puzzle piece. At one point the soul fragment may have fit back in there without issue, but Molly had the chance to grow into his own soul and person, and the influence shows. Lucien has residual feelings about the Mighty Nein, even lets them live when he has no logical reason to do so (and he gets confused at this when it’s pointed out), but unlike the echoes Molly had from having Lucien as his foundation, Molly is still separate and starts fighting back from the inside. Molly directly assists in the final battle, taking away Lucien’s actions, clawing at his face, and eventually helps kill Lucien by tearing himself asunder to keep Lucien from hurting his friends.

Finally, Kingsley. The Mighty Nein try to call Molly back through a resurrection ritual that fails, which is then reversed by divine intervention from Caduceus asking to “put it back,” with “it” presumably being Molly’s soul. However, the situation of the soul is definitely non standard compared to a normal resurrection with it having been shoved back in with Lucien, and I wouldn’t be surprised if there was some sort of trauma associated with untangling it and placing it back in the body. Not nearly as severe as the soul shattering, and still Molly’s soul, but also not exactly the same as when Molly died. Kingsley has the reset button hit for him, and because of the changes he feels like he isn’t the same as Molly and starts fresh.

So, on a metaphysical level I see Lucien as one soul, Molly as a soul that started off as a piece of Lucien but grew into an entirely separate soul, and Kingsley having the same soul as Molly but it got beaten up a bit and had to heal.

Personhood wise, I view Lucien as a foundation to both Molly and Kingsley but still a separate entity and not the same person. Molly and Kingsley is still something I’m a bit ??? trying to figure out and definitely has a lot of philosophical questions about whether someone’s soul or the memories and experiences are more important to determining if someone is the same person or not, but the last we heard from Kingsley he does consider the two of them to be separate.

One other noticeable difference at least is that while Molly and Lucien both vehemently rejected the other and the idea they could be the same, Kingsley does have a desire to learn about Mollymauk and his past, and Matt also revealed with the Cognouza dream that Kingsley sometimes gets bits of memories from Molly. There’s no telling if this would ever change Kingsley’s personhood feelings towards Molly (and it very well might not), but it’s something I find really interesting to think about and I’m definitely curious about how he’d look at things in the future.

[booksforevermore13]

Marry Me?

Summary: It's been a few years since the Wizarding War and Harry and Ginny are still very much in love with each other. Harry proposes to Ginny, who doesn't take it very well. Little does he know that Ginny's still troubled by her monsters.

Read it on Fanfiction if you prefer!

...

Snow rested upon the park bench as if it were a feather cushion, soft and warm. It covered the rich deep wood in perfect white, and the newly clothed trees rose as wintry fairytale beings in that pristine landscape.

Ginny shivered, gently brushing the snow off from the bench, beckoning Harry to join her.

Harry shook his head and chuckled nervously. He'd been doing that quite often today, Ginny had observed, and while she had been curious at first, she had later ruled it out as simply Harry being Harry.

She shivered again rubbing her hands as she tried to get some warmth back to her body. True, she had a sweater and a coat on but in the chilly winters of Scotland, a two flimsy layers were not enough. If she had known they were coming there, then she would have worn more. Or better yet, not come at all.

Ginny blew on her fingers, trying to warm them up as Harry wordlessly shrugged off his jacket and stepped forward, wrapping it around her.

"What are you doing?" she demanded, taking the jacket off. "You'll be cold."

"No, I won't. You've nothing on, Gin."

"I'm wearing a sweater and a coat. Don't be an idiot, Harry, take the damn jacket," she urged.

But Harry had that stubborn glint in his eyes, so Ginny huffed in defeat, though she was secretly grateful for another thing to wear.

"Why Scotland?" she asked, a few seconds later. "And why aren't you sitting?"

Harry chuckled again, that same nervous chuckle and Ginny's heart clenched in suspicion.

"Are you breaking it off with me?" she asked, her voice stronger than she felt. If he'd brought her all the way to Scotland to simply tell her that they were over, then frankly she'd … well she'd probably yell.

Harry frowned, and then hid eyebrows contorted in confusion.

"What? No!" he exclaimed. "That's not the reason. Why would I…" He shook his head then reached into his pocket, slowly bringing out a small box.

Ginny breath caught in her throat as a humourless chuckle left her lips.

This couldn't be happening.

She hastily got up, Harry's jacket falling off her shoulders. Her heart hammered against her chest, leaving her breathless.

Harry scrabbled, bending down before stumbling as he almost fell face-first into the snow.

"Heh," he chuckled, "This-I-I'll just stand up."

In other circumstances she'd have laughed but her throat constricted as Harry got up on his feet and smiled at her, before opening the box.

Inside, there was a small silver ring, resting upon blue leather, and engraved with vines running across its length. It was beautiful. It was utterly and completely beautiful. If Ginny had seen it in a shop window, she'd have stopped and marveled at it. Now, however, the ring brought dread, and she could feel the panic threaten to overcome her.

She looked at Harry and spotted the hopeful glint in his eyes as he smiled brightly.

"I think you know where this is going," he said. "Ginevra Molly Weasley, you are my love," his voice broke, "my life, the one person who has been by my side through times, good and bad. You are, frankly speaking, my everything and I am so lucky to call you... mine. Will you-will you marry me?"

Ginny felt her eyes tearing up. Her throat closed and she panicked, stepping backwards as her mind floated most involuntarily to what he had said.

Ginny struggled to catch her breath as she saw Harry smile fall, concern replacing his smile.

The world was getting abnormally blurry.

It was closing up, it was suffocating and Ginny felt her mind wander over to the first place she could think of, willing all her strength to Apparate.

Home.

...

She landed in a small clearing near her house, her feet buckling as her knees collided with the muddy ground. Her hands reached forward to support herself, and she retched violently, tears of exertion leaking out of her eyes.

A few acres away, she could see the smoke coming out of the chimneys. Her mother's burgundy dress had been hung out to dry and was just clinging to the line, as the chilly winter wind blew through their garden.

Ginny coughed, brushing away the dirt on her fingers. All she could think about was Harry's expectant face, and his huge smile, and all she could register was how badly she had disappointed him.

The thought made her want to heave again, but she refrained, instead choosing to turn away from her house. Even the Burrow seemed to stir dread in her, because all it suddenly reminded her of was the days she had spent locked in her room thinking about him.

"You were foolish to think I'd ever be a friend to the likes of you," he had said, while Ginny whimpered at his feet.

"Pathetic," he had spat then and she had winced at the menacing snarl on her face.

Ginny closed her eyes, bile rising up her throat at the memory of her lying on the cold, wet floor of the Chamber.

"I trusted you, you monster!" she had cried out, "I thought you were my friend. That you understood me. I told you everything!"

"Which only confirmed that you were a despicable wretch," he had laughed cruelly, and forced her chin upwards, as his nails dug into her skin. "Fancying Harry Potter, as if! Even he has standards enough to never bow down to scum like you!"

He had smirked and watched in evident glee as Ginny sobbed, utterly ashamed of what she had done.

"I wouldn't be so sure though," he had added as an afterthought. "Him being the fool he is, there's no guarantee he won't start inclining towards you."

A few tears fell, and Ginny rubbed at them furiously, her mud-caked fingers leaving streaks of dirt on her cheeks.

"But it would all be temporary."

"Ginny?"

Her eyes snapped open as she whirled around, the voice foreign to the one from her memory. Her eyes widened as she saw her youngest brother standing opposite her, concern etched on his face.

"Ron?" she questioned, as she wiped the dirt off of her face with the sleeve of her coat.

"What happened, why are you crying?"

"I'm not," she said hurriedly. "What-what are you doing here?"

"I saw you standing out here alone," he answered, "and don't give me that bull, why have you been crying?"

"I was not," Ginny said fiercely.

A smirk passed on Ron's face, which slowly grew into an impish grin. "Did he ask?" he said, a knowing expression on his face.

"How'd you know?"

"I'm his best friend, of course I know. What did you say?" he asked excitedly, almost jumping from one foot to another.

She stared at Ron for a few minutes, before bursting out crying.

Ron looked at her in alarm before stepping forward. "Ginny, bloody hell!" he exclaimed, pulling her into a hug. "What-wh-did he do something? What's wrong?:

"Nothing," Ginny managed between sobs. "I ran away."

"What?" Ron yelled, "You ran—what, why the bloody hell did you do that?"

Ginny's sobs grew louder as she clutched at Ron's shirt, and his grip around her grew stronger.

"I'm sorry!" he exclaimed, panicked. "Ginny, talk to me, please. What happened?"

"I panicked, and I-I... I didn't know what to do, so I Apparated here."

She could feel Ron frowning, and knew it was a shock for him, seeing her cry like this. She knew he'd expected something more joyous.

"Gin," he urged. "Ginny, why'd you run?" he asked, keeping his voice level as best he could. Ginny knew he was at his wit's end, for after years and years of her being the one he had turned to in times of distress, the roles had reversed and he was helpless.

She looked up at him hesitantly, through watery eyes, half-expecting a confused look she so fondly identified with him. Ron wouldn't understand; this was not his forte.

What was not expecting was gentle eyes and as she looked up at him, she realized, not for the first time that somewhere along the way, he had grown up too.

But she just couldn't get herself to say it.

"I don't want to marry him," she choked out finally. "I can't."

Ron frowned, hiding his confusion extremely well. "You don't want to marry Harry Potter," he repeated, more as if convincing himself. "Why?"

"I," she sighed. "I just can't. I... don't want to."

"You don't want to marry him?" he asked incredulously. "Ginny, you do realize that this is the same man you've been in love with for years?"

"I just don't know, Ron," Ginny groaned. "I panicked, and I overreacted, and I-I just fled from the scene."

Ron stared at her for a few minutes, his brows creased in a frown before he hugged her again. Hugging always worked, Ginny had told him herself. Most of the time. She didn't think he'd take her advice so seriously.

"You're... allowed to overreact," he said, carefully choosing his words. "This is a decision that can affect your entire life, so if anything, you can cry a bit more. Anything that will help."

He winced as Ginny let out a watery sob, and more tears flooded her cheeks.

"You're, you're-you've grown up," he continued, his voice becoming softer, "And I never realized it, I think. But you were always wiser than me, always the one more practical, and somewhere along the way, I realized I looked unto you more than you or I will ever admit."

"Whatever you decide, believe that it is right, for I'll be standing beside you."

Ginny tensed, his words setting in her.

What she was deciding now was not right, she knew that but Ginny would not tell him that.

She couldn't.

...

They had gone inside after her talk with Ron, and her mum had almost cried seeing her. It had been two months since she had last visited, and her mum had immediately bombarded her with questions, just barely held back by her dad.

She had held on quite well before she saw Harry at the door.

Everything had gone downhill since.

While her mum amicably chatted with Harry, his gaze never left her, his green eyes piercing into her face. It was not long before she cracked and immediately excused herself, choosing to go into the fields instead of the recluse of her old room.

She couldn't handle the memories her room brought up. None of them were good enough, at least, none of them were good enough to overlook the bad ones.

She heard the small pattering of footsteps behind her and felt her throat closing in panic. There was only one person who would come after her right now, and it was the last person she wanted to see.

"You ran away," Harry said, his voice barely audible over the whistling of the wind.

Ginny turned around and stared at him, her face devoid of emotion for the first time that day.

"Why?" his voice cracked, but there was a touch of desperation in his voice.

"I don't know," she whispered.

"That's not a good enough answer," he said angrily. "Why did you run away, Gin?"

Ginny stayed quiet, her red hair whipping in the wind. It slashed across her face, pricking against her eyes, but she couldn't get herself to care.

"Is it too early?" Harry spoke over the wind. "Did I do something wrong?"

No, she wanted to yell. He had done everything right. She was the problem and she couldn't be more disgusted with herself. It was impossible to measure how much she loved him, yet now that the time had come to express her feelings, she was coming up with nothing.

Ginny felt the seconds ticking away as she looked at the ground, the white of the snow contrasting against the brown of her boots. She heard footsteps coming over to her and felt a hand resting against her own as Harry lifted her chin and forced her eyes to meet his.

Ginny gasped at the anger-laden sorrow in his eyes, and she pulled back, trying to get away from his piercing gaze.

"Don't run," Harry warned, as Ginny continued pulling. "For Merlin's sake, don't run!" he yelled.

She stopped in her tracks, a tear spilling from her eye.

"I deserve an answer, Gin, please," he begged. "Why?"

A choked sob broke through, and Ginny pushed Harry with all her strength, making him let go of her.

"This won't last," she choked out. "This is temporary, this is not permanent, he told me this wouldn't last!"

The whistle of the wind had become more pronounced, and it whipped around them, numbing the tips of her fingers.

"Who told you?" Harry pressed on. "Goddamnit, Gin, who told you that?"

"Him."

It was her voice that sent Harry recoiling, but in that briefest second possible, he knew exactly who she was talking about.

"Riddle," he whispered. "Shit, Gin—"

"There's nothing to talk about," Ginny said. "I can't do this, Harry."

The anger was back now. Harry stepped forward, his fingers wrapping around her forearm to keep her in place.

"Do you realize we've never talked about him, Gin? Never talked about that year?" he said, his voice dangerously low.

"We have, of course we have."

"Once," Harry's voice cracked, "when you yelled at me in my fifth year for not asking you how it felt like to get possessed by Voldemort. But that doesn't even…." he broke off, his eyes glistening with unshed tears.

Ginny couldn't bear to look at him. So she didn't, instead gazing away at the leafless trees, whose boughs weighed down due to the weight of the snow.

"For two years after, you listened to everything I had to vent about. But not once did you ever talk about him."

"Riddle has nothing to do with this, Harry!" Ginny cried out. "It doesn't matter what he said to me, it's what I choose to believe—"

"Doesn't matter?" Harry bellowed, grabbing her arm. "It matters, Gin, because after all these years, it's still influencing what you do!"

"Riddle has nothing to do with anything in my life!" Ginny yelled, pulling her hand away.

Harry let go of it, his green eyes, following her erratic breathing and her frenzied steps. "Do you know what he said to me in the Chamber?" he said quietly. "He told me how you poured your heart out to him. He bloody quoted you. That's right, he recited word to word whatever you had written in that damn diary."

"No," Ginny said. "No."

"Have you ever wondered why you're so scared of things lasting? How you always run away when it comes to me?"

"Stop, Harry, please," Ginny begged. "Please, just stop."

"Because I've let you in. I've let you solve all my problems, but when it comes to you, I'm helpless."

The wind whipped around, cold and unrelenting, blowing up billows of snow. Ginny closed her eyes, the cold of the wind creeping along her bones as she shivered, her hands wrapping around her stomach.

After a while, that seemed like ages, Ginny found herself being pushed gently towards the shed, Harry's hand on the small of her back as she stepped inside the building, welcoming the warmth of the place.

It was another few minutes before Ginny let herself look at Harry, her heart tugging as she saw his pained expression. His green eyes were still stuck on her, unmoving, and as brown met green, she realized just how torn he was over this.

"I'm sorry," she found herself whispering. "I'm so sorry."

Harry reached forward, his arms wrapping around hers and bringing her closer, until her head was under the crook of his neck and she was safely enveloped in his embrace.

"I'm just scared," she continued, in that same small voice she'd be ashamed to use in front of anyone else. But with Harry, it seemed, her guards melted away until she was her vulnerable self, her heart completely belonging to him.

"When I woke up in the Chamber and saw you," she said, "part of me was relieved and part of me was just vying the time until I'd become just Ron's little sister again. Stupid, I know."

"No," Harry said. "Don't ever say that."

Ginny looked up at him and braced herself for the words she'd say next. She'd never admitted it to anyone before, in fear she'd be shunned away for being too petty.

"The first time, I entered Hogwarts, I was known as the Weasleys' little sister, second time I entered, I was the helpless girl taken into the Chamber. The years after that," Ginny's voice broke, "I did everything I could to prove them wrong but I think-I think that part of me has always been scared that I'll become that small eleven-year-old kid again, who believed in something temporary. And I found myself applying that to everything."

Ginny choked on her words, as she felt the dam break and the tears start cascading down her cheeks. She'd said one of her worst fears out loud, and it just showed how controlled she still was by that… monster.

She felt Harry's rough fingers brush away the tears as he kissed her forehead, his lips lingering on her skin.

"I don't think you know exactly how much I love you, Ginevra Weasley," he said, cupping her chin and looking directly into her eyes.

Green to Brown.

"And-and if I didn't have you in my life, I wouldn't know what to do," he said. "You, this," he pointed at each of them, "is the most solid thing I have, and it is not going away anytime soon. I won't let it."

She was still looking at him, her brown eyes streaked with red. It pained him to see her this way, but he needed to get his point across.

And after a long silence, Ginny whispered, her voice raspy from all that crying.

"Okay."

...

...

...

Spring had come with a gentle spirit, as one who realises that warming up slowly brings the best results to the heart.

Harry's head was on her lap, the ghost of a smile on his lips as Ginny played with the ends of his hair. It had grown out in the last two months, and he hadn't bothered to cut it, so that it now rested just above his neck.

Ginny, needless to say, was not impressed.

"You look like Tarzan," she complained. "Just with black hair."

"You know Tarzan?"

"I have a Muggle-obsessed father," Ginny quipped. "I literally grew up around Tarzan and Her-Hercel—"

"Hercules."

"Yes that."

Harry laughed and Ginny bent forward, her lips lingering on his scar. For a moment, she hesitated, her smile off her face in a short second as she nudged Harry to get up. Her hands left his hair and brought out a box from behind her, prying it open to reveal a silver ring, with vines running across its length, identical to the ones she had seen two months earlier.

"I know this is overdue and I know last time didn't go out as you'd have wished it to," Ginny scrambled, "But will you... marry me, Harry?"

"Huh?" Harry's eyes widened and he shot up, gaping at Ginny in disbelief.

"Will you marry me, Harry?"

Disbelief turned to delight as his face broke out in a smile in mere seconds and he kissed Ginny, one hand wrapped around her waist. The other slipped into his jacket pocket, and he brought out a small box that had been lying untouched for the past two months.

"Only if you marry me, Gin," he said, as he took out the ring.

Ginny's eyes widened and she laughed giddily. "Have you been carrying that ring all this time?"

Harry nodded, smiling at the look of incredulity on Ginny's face.

"Then yes."

[missscarletta7]

The Broken Crown- Chapter 2

Summary: All Margaret Shelby ever wanted, was the opportunity to write her own story. Only now is she beginning to realize that her brother may have already written it for her...

Hello! Enjoy chapter 2!

OoOoOo

"Keep spendin' most our lives, Livin' in the gangsta's paradise,

Tell me why are we so blind to see,

That the ones we hurt, are you and me"

~Gangsters Paradise~

1919

"Mags." Was the first thing the young girl heard as she was gently shaken awake, "Go lay in your bed, eh?"

Upon half-opening her eyes, she saw it was Tommy who had been talking to her. Maggie only then realized she had fallen asleep sitting upright. She responded by rubbing her neck and slowly nodding. Clumsily she got off the bed with her journal in hand.

It was early. The exact time she wasn't sure, but sunlight wasn't streaming through the window yet. She entered the quiet hallway, navigating herself to her bedroom in the darkness. When she opened her door, she discovered a figure standing in the middle of the half-lit room changing clothes.

"There you are," Ada whispered out, shimming out of her slip, "Was wondering what happened to you."

"Slept in Tommy's room," She explained, yawning lightly. "Just get in? What time is it?"

Her sister nodded as she continued to change into a nightdress, slipping the fabric over her head. "It's just past four." She informed as the younger girl motioned her way around her sister to flop onto the bed, making it creak from the force of body weight.

"How was your night?" asked Maggie, moving to make her head more comfortable on the old shapeless pillow.

"Romantic." The older girl hummed, sliding into bed next to her sister. "I've never felt this way about anyone."

Maggie turned her body on her side. "Wish I could put a name and face to this mystery man." She watched her sister's eyes flash with guilt. At the realization of her thoughts were now said aloud, regret formed in the pit of Maggie’s stomach.

"I promise I'll tell you sooner than you think, I just-" Ada didn't have to finish the sentence for Maggie to understand what she was going to say: 'I just can't deal with our brothers if they find out '.

"I know Ada," was the last thing the sleepy girl said before closing her eyes and drifting back to sleep.

Eventually, she woke up again around seven in the morning. Carefully, she got out of bed trying not to wake up her sleeping sister, and dressed accordingly in one of Ada's old dresses. She also made sure to pack her journal into her book bag before making her way downstairs. Once in the kitchen, she saw Tommy reading the paper and Finn eating his breakfast.

"Morning." She said, grabbing a bowl and spoon to scoop mushy porridge out of a metal pot, which was sitting on top of the only working stove burner. Polly had most likely prepared it for them. "How did you sleep?"

Tommy knew that question was directed to him, "Better than I have in weeks." This made his sister smile as she sat down in the chair next to him. "Your writing has improved. But then again, I haven't heard you share your work since you were twelve. Pol says you won't even share with her or Ada. Why's that?" He was genuinely curious.

"I don't think it's ready to be shared yet," Maggie shrugged.

He peered at her as he set the paper down onto the table, "You shared last night."

"Only to put you to sleep." She countered, bringing the spoon to her mouth to consume the beige-colored substance.

"Going to have to sometime," he spoke sincerely. "How else are you going to become a writer, eh?"

He was right, she knew that, but right now, her writing felt sacred. As if her words were only meant for her. She was still coming face to face with a paradoxical problem. Every time she would write something down, it would instantly not be good enough. The pages of her journal seemed to have more scribbled-out lines than actual words. She just couldn't explain this feeling properly, and if she couldn't express her feelings in words, how could she write? No, sharing her words would only lead to not being understood. Her thoughts were soon interrupted by the opening and slamming of the front door.

"Tommy!" John angrily stormed into the kitchen, "It's Danny! Those fucking Wops got a hit on him."

Tommy answered back by pushing himself out of his chair and hurriedly following his brother out of the home. Finn quickly tried to follow, but Maggie grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, "Let go Mags!" he cried out.

Maggie sighed, "C'mon, let's get you ready for school." Finn could only respond with a groan, allowing his sister to lead him upstairs.

OoOoOo

The next day, a smiling Maggie was squished between John and Finn in the family car. She could barely move without hearing a complaint from John, but she didn't care, she was too excited. They were all on their way to the fair, which had been set up right outside of Birmingham. It had been so long since she had been to one. They were almost there, and she could see the big red and white striped tent peaking over the trees in the distance, so she was confused when Tommy parked the car in a clearing that was still a good distance away.

Arthur spoke up at once, "Thought you said we were going to the fair"

"Yeah, what are we doing?" She asked nervously, leaning her elbows against the front seat.

"We have business first. C'mon, bring your wits." Tommy said getting out of the car with John and Arthur following. He glanced over to his younger siblings noticing they were trying to do the same. " You and Finn stay by the car."

"Seriously?" She just wanted to have a normal day at the fair with her family. Was that too much to ask?

Tommy pointed at her to emphasize. "Stay by the car, Mags."

"What business?" Arthur questioned.

"That's the Lee family," She heard John say.

Great the Lees, thought Maggie sarcastically, as she sank into the seat. Though she did perk herself up when she saw a familiar face walking towards the car.

"Hi, Johnny!" She smiled and waved at the man.

"Well hello pretty lady," Johnny Dogs greeted as he approached the car. "Tell me, have you seen a lass named Maggie?" The teasing tone of his voice was prominent. He had not changed a bit in the four years his presence had been absent.

The girl giggled slightly at his antics, and with a playful air replied, "I'm Maggie."

"You canna be her." He overly acted out in disbelief, "Last time I saw her she was but a child!"

"Hang on a minute," They all heard Arthur say, "You're not swapping the family car for a bloody horse!"

Johnny turned around and quickly walked up to the oldest Shelby, "Of course we're not swapping it. Huh? That would be mad!"

"We're going to play two up," Tommy explained, handing a coin over to the family friend.

"Jesus." Arthur breathed out anxiously, as they all watched the pair toss their coins into the grass and lean forward to get a better view. Silently, Tommy handed over the keys to the car, much to the irritation of the eldest, "I knew it. Tommy, you bloody idiot!"

"Shut up Arthur. I won," Tommy told him, "I promised Johnny I'd let him have a spin in the car if he lost." He watched as the relief washed over his brother's face but was interrupted by collective snickering. He turned to the three men dangerously, "Are you Lee boys laughing at my brother? Are you? Eh? I asked you a question!"

"Tommy! Tommy, c'mon it's just a craic." Johnny reasoned, trying to keep everyone calm, "Get your family out of here and go enjoy yourselves at the fair before they start a war." Johnny then turned to the Lees, and Maggie was able to make out most of what he said. It had something to do about the grandfather she never met before one of the Lees replied, "Yeah, but his mother was a Diddicoy whore."

That had done it. Whipping his weaponized hat off of his head, Tommy slashed at the man's face. Arthur and John quickly joined in. Blood could be seen gushing from their faces as they all yelled obscenities at one another. Finn looked in awe at his brothers, his gaze never wavering from the fight, but Maggie felt sick.

OoOoOo

An hour later they had finally reached their original destination. Looking and walking around the fair was an amazing experience. The many rides, animals, oddities, and food all in one place were a wonderment to the many families that came out from all over the area. Yet, Maggie's level of enthusiasm was less than what Tommy had expected. She couldn't shut up most of the way there, now she was as silent as a stone.

"What's the matter with you, eh?" Tommy questioned as they walked around the fairgrounds together, "Did you want to take a spin on the big wheel ride?" He pointed up to the giant machine with carriages that slowly spun in circles.

She asked quietly, "Did you have to hurt them?" Sure, Maggie knew what her brothers did. She would be naive if she said she didn't, but she had never been a witness to it. The violence that she had often heard others speak of was now forever ingrained in her memory, becoming a standard for their future offenses. "The Lee's." She clarified although she was certain he knew what she was talking about.

"They were disrespecting us Mags," He explained as if she were younger than Finn. "You heard them."

Tommy had always tried to keep her in the dark about their business practices, which was easy when she was younger. Unlike Finn, she had always kept her nose in a book, never really paying attention to the transgressions of her siblings. But now she was beginning to notice and was starting to ask questions he'd rather not answer.

"You couldn't walk away?" Maggie inquired, looking towards anywhere but his face.

He remained silent for a moment before stiffly asking, "Do you want to get on the fucking wheel ride or not?" That was Tommy-ese for 'drop it', so she did, and added herself to the growing line. Tommy followed her lead, standing behind her he pulled a cigarette out to smoke as they waited.

Maggie was quiet the entire duration of the drive back home. The setting sun rays peeked through the gray smog as they entered Small Heath, they all noticed the place had been trashed. Broken and ripped furniture looked like they were just tossed in the streets and all those who watched the Shelby car roll slowly down the street managed to give them all a dirty look.

Arthur was the first to speak up, "Now, what the bloody hells been going on here?"

OoOoOo

Apparently, from what she gathered it had been the new copper that had been behind the trashing of their neighborhood. Maggie and Cara walked through the crowd, as they recounted the events of each other's day. Thankfully the Ryans dress shop had been spared from the destruction and Maggie told her friend everything about the fair, excluding the violent beginning of course. In front of them stood a pile of portraits that had been gathered from around all the homes and businesses of the community. Once they were lit on fire, familiar faces were lit up as well to contrast the darkness. They both soon saw Ross with a crowd of men, most likely coworkers from the BSA. Once he saw them, he waved them off and began moving toward the girls.

"Are you ever going to tell him?" Maggie asked her friend, as they watched the young man weaving his way through the crowd of people.

"I will!" Cara defended before adding, "Eventually." Maggie tried to hide her smile.

"All right ladies?" Ross greeted once he was near enough.

"So, what's all this about then?" Cara questioned somewhat flirtatiously, pointing at the heap of portraits.

"Ask Mags," Ross replied, sending the dark-haired girl a smirk, "It's her brothers that have organized all this, went 'round taking everyone's pictures."

"Oh right, because they run everything by me first." she joked, causing both her friends to chuckle. Cara soon took over in leading the conversation, but Maggie was only half paying attention. Curiously, she watched as Tommy spoke with a man that she had never seen before. He must have felt her gaze because he found her face in the crowd, causing Maggie to quickly divert her stare off her brother. Ross then pulled out a flask from a pocket inside his dark coat.

"Care for a swig?" He asked them, shaking the container slightly. Drinking alcohol was something she had never really made into a habit, for her it was only for special occasions. Without hesitation, Cara took the silver flask from his hand and drank a few gulps before passing it on to Maggie. Maggie glanced back to her brother, who was no longer watching her, but instead had gone back to his discussion with the man who was now writing something down on a pad of paper.

She grabbed the small open bottle in her hand and raised it to her friends, "Cheers." The liquid burned in her mouth, but she forced herself to swallow. She coughed at the sensation, making Cara laugh as she took the flask back in her hand, downing what was inside again. The small group of friends joked and drank for the next hour or so, as the flames of the bonfire created a comforting warmth over the burning expressionless eyes of his majesty the king.

OoOoOo

After drinking so much during the bonfire, Cara must not have been feeling too well because she didn't show up to school the next day. Not only that, but it also seemed as though Finn decided to skip again. So unfortunately for Maggie, she was fated to walk home alone. Slung over her shoulder was her book bag which carried a few books, pens, and her journal. As she walked past the first alleyway, she felt a presence quickly appear next to her.

"In need of some company?" Ross asked, tossing his finished cigarette onto the pavement.

"That would be nice." She smiled up at his tall frame, which had a good five inches on her.

He motioned to the bookbag that rested on her shoulder, "Let me help with that."

"I can carry it myself." She calmly asserted, which made the young man grin.

"Now how would it look to all these people around us if I didn't help you with that, Hm?" He waved his index finger around to point at various people going about their day, "Word will get back to my mum, and she'd beat me for not being the gallant gentleman she raised. And you'd be responsible for that. I'm only trying to save you from a guilty conscience later on."

She supposed she shouldn't let that happen. With a small smile, she passed the bag to him which he took gladly.

"Last night was fun, eh?" He continued, slinging her bag over his shoulder.

"It was," she replied, allowing her mind to wander through the fresh memories. "Though I think Cara had too much fun."

"Sounds like her," he snickered out, "Never scared of fun."

"What else do you think about her?" The dark-haired girl pressed.

"Who, Cara?" He asked and Maggie nodded. "I dunno." He shrugged, adding, "Nice I suppose."

"Oh c'mon, you have to see the way she looks at you" Maggie alluded.

"Never noticed." He admitted, looking uncomfortable.

She knew she couldn't push the matter any further than that. It was time to change the subject, "How's work?"

"Factory is on strike again." He answered her, appearing more relaxed, "Freddie thinks we should be compensated more. Guess we'd need that in order to make up for the wages we've lost."

She couldn't stop herself from rolling her eyes. Of course, Freddy had something to do with this. Though she always admired her brothers' old friend for sticking to his beliefs, she silently judged anyone whose beliefs ranged on the spectrum of radical. "Freddie needs to be more careful. As do you, he's going to get everyone in some serious trouble."

He smiled at her worried words, "He'll be fine. I heard from other workers that he skipped town after the raid. As for me, I think that a bit of trouble is the only way to get what you want."

They had just turned onto Watery Lane, their pace began to slow until they eventually stopped just across the street from the front door of her home. "You didn't have to walk me all the way home, you know," she told him as he handed her book bag back.

His hazel eyes meet her blue ones, "I'd do anything for you, Margaret," he declared seriously. She couldn't help but think that there was a hidden meaning in his words. Was she reading too much into this? He must have meant that as her friend, right?

"I-," she started.

"Maggie!" Tommy's voice rang out.

Maggie turned her head to see her brother as he made his way toward them. The girl's heart clenched at the thought of what he was going to do. Her mind had quickly jumped back to the memory of yesterday, the slashing, the anger, the blood. She glanced over to Ross, whose expression went from nervous to stoic in a matter of seconds.

"Go inside," Tommy instructed once he stood close enough to the two teens.

"But-"

"Now Mags," he commanded with a low voice. Coolly, Tommy took a drag from his cigarette that was resting in between his fingers, not taking his eyes off Ross.

With a huff and a final look towards her friend, Maggie bid him farewell before swiftly walking toward the front door of her family home. Once the dark-haired girl was out of earshot Ross apprehensively spoke, "Mr. Shelby I- I was just walking her home, I wasn't trying to-"

"I know Ross," Tommy assured the anxious young man, tossing his finished cigarette to the ground. Pol had told him that the young Murray lad had helped look after his sister while he and his brothers were away in France. Had even heard a rumor amongst some of the younger men in the betting shop that he knocked the shit out of another boy who was sniffing around Margaret. If that was true, Tommy felt indebted. He was a busy man, so he cut to the chase, "You beat a bloke that was giving Maggie trouble?"

Ross modestly nodded at his question. "You're a good lad." The gangster commended, passing the young man one of his cigarettes from its silver metal casing. He also lit a match to assist him with lighting it. "Is your Uncle Ian still living in Dublin?"

Ross had to admit, he wasn't expecting the line of questioning to head in this direction. Nevertheless, he nodded once again, removing the rolled tobacco from his lips to allow a puff of smoke to escape from his lungs. The young man's confusion ceased when he watched Tommy pull out two pounds sterling from his pocket. Ross’s eyes couldn't help but widen at the act.

"Good, I want you to do me a favor. Call him and tell him to ask around all the local pubs in town if they know anything about a barmaid named Grace Burgess." As much as Tommy wanted to say he didn't care about this new woman who had found herself working at The Garrison, he needed to know exactly where she came from and if she was telling the truth. Digging out another pound he said, "Here send this to your uncle too."

"I will Mr. Shelby," he assured, accepting the coins in his outreached hand.

Tommy turned away and began walking toward his home, without looking back he added, "Welcome to the Peaky Blinders, Ross."

OoOoOo

When Maggie entered her home, she found Polly sitting in the kitchen reading a newspaper and drinking tea. "Hello, love. How was school?"

"Fine." She replied curtly, dropping her book bag onto the floor beside the table. She immediately moved to the window, looking out just in time to see Tommy lighting a cigarette for Ross. Relief washed over Maggie, this conversation thankfully seemed as though it wouldn't involve fists... or razor blades.

Polly's eyes were now on her, "What are you looking at?"

"Nothing." Maggie tore herself away from the window to sit down opposite her aunt, pulling out her journal and pen from the book bag next to her feet. Tommy ended up entering the kitchen not two minutes later.

"I hope you didn't tell my friend that you'd hurt him." Maggie told her brother much more boldly than she felt, "He was just being kind."

He stared at her for a moment before replying knowingly, "Now why would I hurt my newest recruit." With that, he exited into the betting shop closing the doors behind him. She gapped, still looking at the shut doors trying to process how Tommy could ever involve her friend in whatever schemes he was engaging in.

Her emotions must have shown all over her face because her aunt chuckled slightly. "I wouldn't worry too much about your friend," Polly told her eyes still on the black and white paper. But Maggie couldn't stop herself from slumping into the old wooden chair before she continued writing, ultimately stopping when she felt her sister's presence enter the room.

"Good of you to join us," Polly said to Ada from behind her newspaper. "Where have you been all day?

"In bed," Ada replied. "Couldn't sleep, then I couldn't wake up, then I was cold, and then I had to go for a wee. Then I was with this bear on a boat, but that was just a dream, then I was hungry." Maggie looked up from her journal once again to see that Ada took the empty seat between her and their aunt with a massive slice of bread with a jar of jam in hand.

Maggie looked pointedly at the last of the bread that she had made recently, "Jesus Ada, save some food for the rest of us."

Ada stuck her tongue out, before looking at her aunt, "Why are you reading the paper?" Ada inquired.

"Why wouldn't I be?" Polly questioned back, picking up her teacup.

"I've never seen you read the paper. I've only ever seen you light fires with them." The older Shelby sister continued, taking a bite of her food.

"BSA is on strike" Polly explained, "The miners are on strike. IRA are killing our boys, ten a day." Though when Polly stopped talking, she continued to stare at Ada eating.

The older girl soon noticed her aunt's gaze. "What?" She asked in between her chewing.

"Stand up," Polly commanded.

"Why?" Ada questioned.

"Just stand up," Polly ordered standing up herself, eventually Ada compiled, "Side on," Polly added and Ada motioned her body to face to the side. Maggie was taken aback when Polly suddenly cupped one of her sisters' breasts.

Though Ada was much more reactionary, "What are you doing?!"

"Ada, how late are you?" Polly asked seriously and Maggie couldn't stop her mouth as it fell open slightly.

"One week." Not too bad, Maggie thought. "Five weeks," Ada amended. It wasn't ideal, but maybe she was due any day now. "Seven, if you count weekends." The girl corrected herself once again.

"Holy Fuck, "Maggie shook her head in disbelief.

Ada seemed desperate for this not to be the reality, "I think it's a lack of iron. I got some tablets." She explained to them, as Polly sat back down in her chair.

"But they didn't work." Their aunt concluded.

Ada too sat back down, "No."

Maggie gulped at her sister's answer and looked to her aunt, watching Polly as she took a deep breath. The thought process could not be seen on her face, but the young girls knew that the situation was being meticulously addressed in her mind. "Get dressed. We're going to the midwife. Let's just make sure you are before anyone makes any rash decisions."

Ada nodded, holding back the tears that threatened to spill over. Maggie's heart clenched, and moved her hand over her sisters, squeezing it slightly. Whatever was to come, they would weather through it together.

[alixofagnia]

OpheThorn III: Back to Rambling

The Memory of Babel…Wow.

If nothing else, this book GOES. We’re dropped onto Babel just as lost, bewildered, and determined as Ophelia to get to the bottom of this ark. Boy, was it worth the wait! Babel is exquisitely written and, incredible as it sounds, even more treacherous than the Pole. The backbone Ophelia shows in this book is awesome! I love that she’s taken the measure of her worth—all the things she’s been through and survived in the previous novels—and come out resilient As Fuck. This book is definitely a penultimate novel. Dazzling as it is, much of it feels like groundwork being laid for the finale.

OpheThorn is less nuanced and ambiguous in Babel. While I feel there’s less to analyze, I do really love this pairing and I like writing about their dynamic. So, I’m just going to put my thoughts down and see what comes up!

[There will be spoilers]

[All fanart images credited to @patricialyfoung​]

Intro

One of the things that drew me into The Mirror Visitor series is the relationship between Ophelia and Thorn. Theirs is not a traditional love story at all; in fact, it avoids clichés and instead plays about with two romantic tropes: enemies to lovers and marriage of convenience. The series spins these tropes anew by offering subtle signs of attraction (discussed here) and giving both characters antisocial tendencies, as well as—in Thorn’s case—possible ASD traits (discussed here).

When we left these two in Clairdelune, Thorn had just put his feelings on the table. Before she could give her response, however, they were separated under upsetting, even traumatic circumstances. Years later, we meet Ophelia again…

Ophelia

…and, oh dear, she is in a sorry state indeed. We find her disastrously operating a waffle stand during a kooky Animist festival for, of all things, clocks. Just what the girl pining for Thorn needs, right? All is not well with Ophelia. As Aunt Rosaline points out,

“No, you’re not fine. You don’t go out anymore, you eat any old thing, you sleep at any old time. You haven’t even been back to the museum.” [19]

Although her mother, sister, and to an extent Aunt Rosaline all believe Ophelia is wasting away, shutting herself in her room, she’s actually been quite busy. She’s been studying and developing working hypotheses about God and the Other: where they are, there she’ll find Thorn. She’s convinced of it. Working from obscure clues dropped in Clairdelune, Ophelia settles on Babel as the ark most likely to yield some answers, and when the chance to travel there appears, she wastes no time at all.

She. Is. Going.

Thorn

In Babel, Thorn has made a name for himself as Sir Henry, rising to become a Lord of LUX, the gatekeepers of Babel who serve a similar function to that of the Doyennes on Anima. He is commanding, magnetic, and aloof as ever. It is unsurprising to find that he has been playing close to the fire again. But the stress and tension of his investigative life on Babel is certainly heightened in a way that it wasn’t at the Pole. 

We also learn that his nickname in Babel is the Automaton due to his unceasing energy. Thorn, thus, has dealt with the separation by predictably burying himself in work.

The Reunion

To Ophelia’s disappointment, the reunion with Thorn does not go quite as she had envisioned, and that’s because she hadn’t really envisioned past the goal of finding him [203]. Ophelia is very much a character who takes things one at a time as she’s confronted by them. When Thorn seems less than pleased to see her, she must consider all these Troublesome Feelings and why his underwhelming reaction upsets her.

The thing is Ophelia is waiting for Thorn to take the lead. But he already did, and she didn’t follow—at least, not in a way that he could understand. As previously discussed, Thorn does not function well with non-verbal cues. He needs to be explicitly told how someone else feels, or how he is making someone else feel, in order to know when to adjust his behavior. That can be quite flustering, especially for someone like Ophelia who struggles to vocalize her feelings exactly as they are.

“Is that it?” Ophelia murmured. “You have nothing more to say to me?”

 “I have, actually,” Thorn muttered, not stopping all his connecting. […] “And you?” he finally asked, in turn. “You have nothing more to say to me?” [263]

She doesn’t. Thorn coldly dismisses her and continues to keep her at arm’s length, especially when he gives her a second chance to confess her feelings and she still refuses to take it. 

Ophelia has social anxiety. She’s not exactly shy, she just gets tongue-tied and befuddled sometimes. It’s part of her make-up, but it doesn’t just happen around Thorn—there are plenty of instances where she has trouble expressing herself to those she cares about, such as Ambrose and Blaise in this novel, or Fox in Clairdelune. She even struggles to express basic gratitude toward Aunt Rosaline in Promise. Unlike them, Thorn challenges her to uncomfortable levels. Her feelings for him are complex and utterly foreign; she has no idea what to do about them. 

Unfortunately, Thorn is fresh out of fucks to give over her see-saw act. He’s well-past this stage of confusion and cowardice she’s experiencing because he’s been in love with Ophelia since Promise (“I’m starting to get used to you”) and dealt with the ramifications of that in Clairdelune (“I don’t give a damn whether people find me suspect, as long as I am not so in your eyes.”). 

Thorn does nothing half-heartedly. In no uncertain terms, he left her with the bluntest of blunt confessions (“By the way, I love you.”), which was a milestone in his emotional growth. It is clear that he does not love frivolously or casually in the way of his foil, Archibald, so for him, nothing has changed in three years. Likely, he thinks this should be obvious to Ophelia, and it probably should be at this point. He’s done all he can, after all, what more can she want? From his perspective, it’s Ophelia’s turn to make a move, not his.

Ophelia, though, functions differently. She has always needed verbal reinforcement and reassurance. That need has been heightened by their long separation. Essentially, they’re out of touch with one another and, in Ophelia’s case, she’s completely out of touch with herself, which is why when prompted by Thorn she doesn’t provide an answer, even though there could be only one reason for her going to Babel. Things finally come to a head when Thorn loses all patience and replaces her as his assistant. Ophelia is pissed.

“You weren’t available. Waiting for you would have slowed me down in my research.”

“Slowed you down? For your information, I was also doing research of my own. It might interest you to learn…”

“Of your own, that’s precisely the problem,” he interrupted her. “I advised you never to leave your division, and you were supposed to warn me if you discovered anything new. Nothing has changed, you still always make your decisions alone.”

“I wanted to help you,” Ophelia hissed, through gritted teeth.

“I don’t want any of your finer feelings. I need efficiency. If you don’t mind, I now have a flight to take.”

Ophelia’s blood ignited in her every vein. “You’re an egoist.” She had wanted to anger Thorn, and she knew, by the way he had frozen on the spot, that she had succeeded. All the shadows of the night suddenly seemed to  have been drawn to the center of his face. He threw Ophelia a look so hard, she reeled from its impact.

“I am demanding, a killjoy, obsessive, antisocial, and crippled,” he intoned, in a forbidding voice. “You can put all the defects in the world on me, but I will not permit you to call me an egoist. If you prefer to do things your way, go ahead, but don’t waste my time anymore. Our collaboration is over.” [305]

OMG, this is harsh. But it’s the kick in the ass Ophelia needs. Since taking up a secret identity as Eulalia and aspiring to become a Forerunner (essentially a scholar and a scribe), she’s already been confronted by the fact that she’s not as good a researcher as she’s prided herself on. Now, she’s being confronted by the suggestion that she’s not a very good partner, either. It leaves her feeling “drier than dust.” [321]

I think it’s interesting how Thorn’s dialogue here has a double meaning. He’s talking about their partnership as an investigative team, of course. But it just as easily applies to their personal relationship. He can’t keep waiting around for Ophelia to make up her mind. He’s got a God to hunt down, an Other to face. Having to wonder about where he stands with Ophelia is getting to be too much. By once again haranguing off on her own, Ophelia has made it plain to him that she prefers to do things without him. In his eyes, she’s pushing him away.

Eventually, she is able to see this perspective and she is ashamed to realize how badly she’s held Thorn to a double standard. He gave of himself through words and gestures as far as he was able, while she gave him nothing in return. Finally, FINALLY, Ophelia fully expresses her love for Thorn and, as he once did, asks him to forgive her shortcomings. It’s a very sweet scene, I must say.  

Now, to go back for a moment, what’s really gutting about Ophelia calling Thorn an egoist is this:

“God said he would keep his eyes on you,” he muttered, in a choked voice. “Right in front of me. I make a lamentable husband, but I permit no one, particularly him, to persecute my wife. It’s impossible for me to tear you away from God, but I can tear him away from you. If a book exists that contains God’s secret, and allows his invulnerability to be punctured, I will find it.” [392]

For context, Ophelia had admonished Thorn for his dogged pursuit of this quest, expressing outrage that he should be doing this for a world that’s done nothing for him. At one time, yes, Thorn may have been acting in the interest of the world. Then, he met Ophelia (who is too curious for her own good) and he met God. God threatened her, and Thorn is not a man who could allow such a thing to go unpunished, no matter the consequence. Ever since they met—through every consideration, every move in this impossible investigation and despite each rejection from her—he’s been acting out of love for Ophelia. 

As Thorn said, he is not an egoist.

The Blind Spot

After their “egoist” argument, Ophelia feels instant regret and tries to stop Thorn from walking away. She doesn’t succeed, however, because she is struck by his claws. At first, she believes he may have done this on purpose, the thought of which really scares her because it indicates that Thorn is absolutely done with her.

Later, after she finally makes her confession, we all learn that, in fact, Thorn has lost a bit of control over his family power. He has no idea that he used his claws on Ophelia. I’m a little bit unsure what caused this vulnerability—I don’t really follow the given reason, so I’m wondering if Thorn doesn’t quite know himself why this has come to be.

My theory is more euphemistic. Ophelia had reached out to touch his turned back and the gesture badly startled him. He overreacts then overcorrects, and they both take a memorable tumble. Thorn explains:

“Never again accost me from behind my back or from any of my blind spots. Don’t do any movement that I can’t see coming in advance, or then warn me out loud.” [389]

He further explains that he can retain control as long as his claws don’t perceive her as a threat and asks her not to be absent-minded with him. I think it’s entirely plausible that his control over his Dragon power has weakened due to his deep emotion regarding Ophelia. I also feel that this speaks closely to their recent conflict as well as Thorn’s coding as autistic. It’s like Thorn is saying, “No more hide and seek. No more games. Tell me straight, or not at all.”

Ophelia knows how deep his passions run. She once held his dice and thought she might die under the weight and intensity of his emotions. Perhaps it is her Animism that has wrought this change in him. Perhaps it is simply her existence. Either way, she can no longer afford to be careless when it comes to Thorn’s feelings. In the final chapter, Ophelia and Thorn have a true heart to heart, reaffirming their partnership. But Thorn has something to add.

“No half-measures,” he interrupted her. “I’m not and do not wish to be your friend.” [445]

What he leaves unspoken is that he wants to be her husband, in every version of the role: Partner. Protector. Lover. Now that Ophelia has given him an answer, Thorn is comfortable leading them forward and it is the role of lover that he specifically has in mind. Considering this is probably the first time he’s ever propositioned a woman for sex, he is understandably quite awkward. Ophelia quickly realizes that she’s added to his inner turmoil by repressing her own sexuality around him and inadvertently making him feel less than attractive. She also understands that she, too, wants to be his wife in every version of that role: Partner. Protector. Lover. What follows is a really beautiful expression of honest acceptance and true value.

Desire

My dudes, our girl is constantly at risk of exploding (or maybe imploding?) with desire in this book. It’s consuming her, emptying her, and driving every atom of her being. Look at this!

Ophelia had received no news from Thorn after his escape. Not a single telegram, not a single letter. She could keep telling herself that he couldn’t run the risk of making contact, that he was a man wanted by the law, perhaps by God himself, but it was eating her up inside. [22]

Whenever she crossed a man who was a bit taller than average, she couldn’t stop herself from looking back as she passed, with a frantic pounding in her chest. [83]

Ophelia would have recognized his voice out of a thousand. The resonance of a double bass, solemn and sullen, that echoed through her inner emptiness, shook her to the core, welled up to her throat, choked her. [240]

She waited until her heartbeat, taxed by the run, had returned to normal. But it didn’t happen. Her entire flesh seemed to be pulsating to a single chaotic rhythm. This evening, she would see Thorn again. [249]

She wanted to be with Thorn right there, right now. She’d wanted that every second of every minute of every hour, for almost three years. [249]

Although she knew the temperature of this place was strictly maintained at minus eight degrees, Ophelia felt as if it were fifteen degrees warmer. Never in her life had she cared about appearances, and yet she ran a nervous hand through her hair to tidy it up. [253]

She suddenly realized that there wasn’t much she would have refused him, had he but asked. [278]

Instead, he disinfected his hands for a second time, as if they really were repulsive. They weren’t in Ophelia’s eyes. From a distance, she took in the network of veins under the skin, the long, curved fingers, the bone that          rose up on each wrist, and suddenly, she felt something like pain in the pit of her stomach. She hadn’t the slightest idea what was happening to her, but looking at those hands made her want to scream. [283]

She felt it again, even more violently, this urgent call from deep inside her. [446]

Ophelia is so horny and I’m so here for it!

Closing Thoughts

Do I think Ophelia’s internal conflict over Thorn is drawn out? Yes. 

Do I think it’s contrived? No.

I think it falls in line with Ophelia’s characterization and I think Thorn’s frosty reaction to her presence in Babel falls in line with his characterization. These characters aren’t perfect: Ophelia is quirky and endearing, but that doesn’t make her immune to cowardice; Thorn is highly skilled and competent but is deficient socially and sometimes emotionally. I can’t emphasize enough how well Christelle Dabos knows her characters and allows them to be who they are rather than force them to make weird changes to fill plot holes.  

We can’t forget, either, the fact that they have been completely cut off from one another for years. Yes, we might think in that time Ophelia could have done more to sort out her feelings. But as we’ve seen, she just doesn’t focus on more than what she can handle at a time. She always thinks in terms of breaking a problem down into steps. The first step was following up on those clues from Claridelune. The second step was finding Thorn. The last step was dealing with herself. 

Their relationship here, which has progressed in a way that felt natural and believable, is the most straightforward it has ever been. That made writing about them this time around kind of hard, actually, because it’s all plainly there in the text. For me, I think the notable takeaway is being able to mark just how far these two characters have come in their individual and mutual journeys. Now and together, they can tackle the gargantuan, perilous task ahead. It might all end on a bittersweet note. But for this couple…that seems about right, and I can’t wait to read the conclusion.

Thank you so much for reading these long posts and leaving such kind feedback! I’m glad that you, too, enjoy Ophelia, Thorn, and this magical series. 

[seventhstrife]

SubScorp Week 2021 Day 4: Lust 1/3

I AM SO MAD ABOUT THIS PROMPT!!! IT GOT RIDICULOUSLY LONG!!! LIKE, AN UNREASONABLE LENGTH OF FIC WAS ACHIEVED THROUGH THIS PROMPT THAT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE THE EASIEST ONE!!! WHY IS MY BRAIN LIKE THIS!!!

Special shoutout to all of the wonderful, lovely, ridiculously patient people on discord who weathered me complaining about my stupid hellbrain lolol

Only part 1 tonight since I literally spent all day writing nearly 10k words, and there’s no way I can edit it and also sleep before my shift LOL

Read it on AO3.

Part 2

It would have been kinder, perhaps, to simply announce his arrival, but Hanzo had grown so fond of being amused in recent years and he could not resist the urge to indulge.

Gathering a handful of small stones, Hanzo climbed the nearest building and darted across the sun-baked clay of the rooftops, careful to remain unseen as he trailed his target.

A smile curled his lips beneath his mask. He waited until he was sure he was completely concealed, then let loose one of the pebbles in his grasp—a direct hit to the back of Kuai Liang's head.

The sight of Kuai Liang's flinch, as well as the sharp snap of attention and his dark expression of annoyance and suspicion through the crowded, dusty streets of the road, stretched Hanzo's smile into a grin. He bled into the shadows, knowing he would have to be swift if he wanted to stay ahead of Kuai Liang's attention.

He only managed one more stone's throw before Kuai Liang wisened up and scaled the nearest building. He was no fool, and tracing the stone's trajectory was a simple thing. Hanzo was forced to duck behind any cover he could find to avoid the Lin Kuei Grandmaster's thorough, careful scrutiny of his surroundings.

His next throw would be his last, he knew. He would have to make it count if he did not wish to be caught.

Hanzo crouched low and waited for his moment. The instant Kuai Liang turned, still scanning his surroundings for any movement, he sent his last stone flying.

He saw the beginning motion of Kuai Liang's whip-fast reaction, hand darting up in a flash to catch the stone, but Hanzo was already gone, swallowed in hellfire, and before Kuai Liang's fist fully closed around the rock, Hanzo appeared directly behind him.

Hanzo didn't hesitate. He tackled Kuai Liang to the roof, perched atop his chest before he could react.

Blinking in the harsh sunlight, Kuai Liang's scowl of deadly promise melted away into shock.

"Hanzo?"

Hanzo smirked. "Is this the standard of Lin Kuei assassins?" Hanzo shook his head. "Perhaps I should reconsider allying myself with a clan that is so soft."

Kuai Liang's eyes narrowed in a glare, but it was lessened by the reluctant smile that tugged on his lips, as if against his better judgment.

"I think I am the one who should be reconsidering my allies, if they are so eager to attack me on the streets," Kuai Liang pointed out, and Hanzo chuckled, finally stood and offered his arm.

Kuai Liang took the offered hand and absently brushed himself as he stood. His dark eyes, pleased and curious in equal measure, peered at Hanzo with confusion.

"What brings you to Outworld, Hanzo? And to me, specifically?"

Hanzo crossed his arms, gazing across the sand-dusted streets and modest abodes of the city, half of it hollowed out from the bright red clay of a mountain.

"I had received word that you accepted a mission from the Thunder God." Hanzo's face darkened with a grimace. "I would be neglecting the conditions of our alliance if I did not aide you."

"My mission is one of reconnaissance, Hanzo," Kuai Liang said, brow furrowed. "My life is hardly in danger."

"No mission from Raiden is as simple as he makes it seem," Hanzo said darkly. The loss of his clan—again—still burned. "If my presence is an insult, I beg your forgiveness," Hanzo continued, and he bowed. When he rose, he met Kuai Liang's eyes dead-on, determined and stubborn. "Allow me to accompany you, if only to set my mind at ease."

Kuai Liang had appeared taken aback at first, but understanding quickly bled onto his expression, and no little guilt. His own memories of the Kamidogu, and the manipulation he'd suffered, did not appear to have been forgotten either.

"...I accept your offer, Hanzo. Thank you." Kuai Liang said, and he returned the bow. "Shall we?"

The Thunder God's power had sent Kuai Liang to an Outworld city, but Kuai Liang's true destination laid deeper in the forest. An ancient temple, Kuai Liang informed him, long abandoned, had been rumored to have worshippers once more. Raiden merely wanted confirmation of such a thing, to decide his next move. The worship once practiced there had been forbidden, one steeped in ritual sacrifice and practices so brutal and cruel that even Outlanders shunned it, and if some sort of revival was in the making, Raiden suspected it would only be a matter of time before the cult spilled into Earthrealm and claimed the inhabitants there for their depraved rituals.

A simple mission, but one that did nothing to abate the uneasy feeling that had overcome Hanzo from the moment he'd learned of Kuai Liang's undertaking. He had not lied to Kuai Liang for his reasons for being here, but he had neglected the full truth: that, more than anything, he worried for his friend and what might happen to him when caught up in another machination of a God.

Once Kuai Liang had debriefed him, they fell into silence, traveling the forest with their ears peeled for the slightest sound that stuck out: voices, a footstep, anything that would confirm Raiden's suspicions. But caution and vigilance would only help them so much if Raiden had sent them into some sort of trap.

Hanzo pushed the worry from his mind. Nothing will happen to him. I will ensure it, he vowed.

The temple emerged from the trees when they were nearly on top of it. If it had been recently re-occupied, it did not show on the outside. The forest had been allowed to encroach upon it, nearly to the doors, and lichen and vines covered the side of the crumbling stone building as nature reclaimed it.

Hanzo and Kuai Liang knelt side by side as they observed the building, but it truly seemed abandoned.

"Shall we take a closer look?" Kuai Liang asked once it was plain they were quite alone outside.

Hanzo repressed a grimace; telling Kuai Liang he had a 'bad feeling' was out of the question, unless he wanted to make Kuai Liang think he indulged silly superstition and thus, lose his respect forever.

Hanzo nodded. They took a closer look.

Their steps were slow and cautious as they climbed the sun-bleached steps. Cracks and fissures stretched across nearly every surface, and while the stains were very faint, Hanzo still recognized the dried blood dotted across the stone.

It only took a few minutes to carefully sweep the temple for signs of life, and they met in the dusty temple's center once they were done.

"It appears abandoned," Kuai Liang observed, dark eyes lingering in a dark corner for one last check before he finally looked at Hanzo.

"I agree," Hanzo said, crossing his arms. "I hope the Thunder God has promised you something worthwhile for this waste of time."

A small smile tugged on Kuai Liang's lips; Hanzo pretended he did not find the sight incredibly gratifying.

"The terms of a contract are confidential, Hanzo."

"So, nothing," Hanzo surmised with a nod. "Unsurprising."

Kuai Liang's smile grew, amused. "Your time was wasted as well," he pointed out. "Will you demand compensation from Raiden?"

"Do not tempt me," Hanzo warned. He could do so without shame or remorse. After what the Thunder God had put them both through, it was the least he deserved.

Kuai Liang opened his mouth, eyes dancing with mirth—

But then his eyes shifted, just slightly, and he tensed, all over.

Hanzo barely had time to react before Kuai Liang was shoving him with a rough shout of, "Get down!"

His balance was upset but Hanzo recovered, quickly rolled to his feet in a crouch, one arm braced on the floor, the other already unsheathing his dagger.

"Jussst asss my hunger growsss, what ssshould I find but fresssh blood in the unlikeliessst of placesss?"

Skarlet ascended the last steps of the temple, an expression of satisfaction and interest on her features. She held a single hand aloft where an orb of thick, viscous blood twirled idly.

She came to a stop some distance away and widened her stance. Her fingers curled into claws and she stretched the blood like a scarf between her palms. Her eyes flashed between the two of them.

"My lucky day," she rasped slowly.

Hanzo frowned heavily, though it was almost a relief to finally face the inevitable complication he had been expecting this entire time. He darted a quick glance at Kuai Liang.

Kuai Liang was much in the same position and appeared unscathed as he leveled Skarlet with a heavy frown. A smear of blood shards streaked across the space they once stood.

"What are you doing here, Skarlet?" Pure, icy contempt dripped from his tone.

"I am the one who ssshould be asssking the questions, Sub-Zero." Skarlet arched a single thin eyebrow. "Asss the Outworlder, I am not the one who doesss not belong here..."

Hanzo rose and Skarlet's gaze cut to him, wary and deadly. He unsheathed his second dagger and gave them a spin.

"You are outmatched, Skarlet." He pointed at her with a blade. "You would be wise to leave."

Her mouth was hidden behind a crimson mask, but her smile was only too obvious in her tone.

"I am trembling with fear," Skarlet said mockingly, and barely before she'd finished drawing breath, she moved her hands in a quick sweeping motion that sent a wide arch of blood, suddenly crystallized, straight for them.

Kuai Liang had his ice to defend himself with, so Hanzo did not waste a moment summoning a ring of fire, nose wrinkling as the blood met his flames and burst on impact. A power based on draining the life from another—it was barbaric.

Hanzo's words had not been an idle boast—together, he and Kuai Liang were formidable, and years of fighting at one another's side had only fostered a deadly alliance, one of devastating power and precise, efficient strategy.

Barely minutes into the fight, Skarlet was showing signs of unease. She was smart to keep her back to a wall at all times, to better prevent them from flanking her, but the ceaseless assault of ice and fire was clearly wearing on her.

When Kuai Liang froze her leg, just long enough so that she caught a fireball to the chest, she staggered, fell to one knee as her harsh breaths echoed through the ancient temple.

Tales of her cunning and deadliness had not escaped them, however, and neither man allowed their guard down, approaching slowly, fists raised.

"Thisss," Skarlet panted, glaring at the two of them, "Isss hardly fair, isss it?"

"You chose this fight, Skarlet," Kuai Liang said pitilessly.

The way her eyes narrowed at Kuai Liang—that earlier feeling of unease rose within Hanzo once more.

"I did," she agreed. "And it isss time I evened the oddsss..."

Skarlet thrust the hand—that before had been clutching her side—at Kuai Liang, and a small disk of blood, no doubt razor-sharp, shot towards him at an incredible speed.

Too fast to deflect it properly, Kuai Liang raised his arm, and Hanzo only caught a glimpse of how it burst moments before impact, hovered in the air in dozens of pinpricks of needle-thin blades, before crashing again. As Kuai Liang dropped to a knee and ducked, shielding his face from the worst of it, Hanzo was already backing away as Skarlet flew at him in a sudden burst of deadly fury.

"I can already tassste your blood," Skarlet said with relish. The blade of her blood dagger locked with Hanzo's and their faces hovered close. Her eyes shined with wicked triumph. "I will enjoy gorging myssself in the daysss to come."

Hanzo only glared back, disgusted. Between them, a sudden light grew and Skarlet glanced down with wide eyes to see her dagger glowing-white hot to match where it met Hanzo's as his arms caught fire.

An instant later, the blade, warped, shifted, and burst. Skarlet cried out, backing away as the blood singed her and the hands she shook out were bright red from the blistering heat.

"You will only taste defeat," Hanzo swore, summoning his kunai.

The low thump of a body hitting the ground drew his attention away, however, and it was with dread that Hanzo clapped eyes on Kuai Liang—teeth gritted in a grimace of pain, hands clawed against the stone as if he might crumble the stone at their feet.

He raised glassy, straining eyes to meet his.

"H-Hanzo," Kuai Liang managed, and then he shuddered, hunched over, and a low grunt of pain escaped him.

The sight and sound of him chilled Hanzo to his very core. Kuai Liang had been trained, practically since infancy, to withstand incredible amounts of pain. Anything that made him cry out like that—

Hanzo looked to Skarlet and he had no problem recognizing the sheer relish and satisfaction of her expression.

The hellfire, always kept carefully maintained, overflowed into instant, black fury.

Faster than she could ever predict, Hanzo flew across the room, seized Skarlet by her neck and did not stop until he slammed her against the opposite wall. Her strangled choke—brutally cut off by his hands, pressing deep—only incensed him further because this one cry of pain was not enough.

"What have you done to him?"

Skarlet strained against his grip, but she could not touch him, not when he burned so hot. She quickly realized she could not escape, but she only laughed, a reedy, raspy thing that made Hanzo see red.

"It—It isss a new concoction," she hissed, throat working harshly beneath his fingers. He barely loosened his grip so that she could speak, despising every moment he was not killing her. "One I-I have been..." She swallowed. Her heels scraped against the stone wall for purchase. "Very eager to try out."

Hanzo tightened his grip once more and Skarlet's eyes grew larger, panicked and desperate.

"WHAT. HAVE. YOU. DONE."

With each word, flames licked Hanzo's tongue, eager to escape. The temptation to release the flames on Skarlet's wretched head, to burn away her smirk until only bone remained, was nearly overwhelming.

But Kuai Liang's life hung in the balance. He could not give in to anger.

He allowed Skarlet breath, and she finally spoke, "That blood wasss poisoned," Skarlet hissed and Hanzo tensed.

"Where is the antidote," he demanded, and Skarlet laughed again.

"It isss not that sort of poissson," she said. "Thisss one was made for...ssspecial occasssionsss..."

Hanzo narrowed his eyes. "What does that mean?"

Skarlet looked into his eyes and victory shined in her dark, mad eyes.

"It isss a powerful aphrodisssiac," she purred, and Hanzo tensed. "If he is not sssatiated, his blood will boil."

Alarmed, Hanzo glanced at Kaui Liang. It looked as if he was already feeling the effects, if the way he clutched his abdomen meant anything. He ground his forehead against the filthy stone floor and even a short distance away, Hanzo could see the red welts rising from his skin, as if he were burning from the inside out.

"It would be bessst," Skarlet continued, able to speak more in Hanzo's moment of distraction, "If you left usss here." Her eyes darkened with desire and twisted eagerness. "I am more than up to the tasssk of helping him, and I am sssure he will find me very sssastisfying."

Kuai Liang would rather die, Hanzo knew.

Slowly, every line of his body a taut line of repressed violence, Hanzo allowed Skarlet to slide back down the wall so that her feet touched the floor.

Her eyes brightened with victory—and then Hanzo yanked her close, so that they instead widened with surprise and a quick flash of fear—for he had not released her yet.

"No," he simply said, and then he shoved Skarlet back.

Her skull cracked against the stone and she went limp.

Hanzo let her drop carelessly, turned his back on her, and quickly made his way to Kuai Liang's side. She would not die, he was sure of it, and though he dearly wanted to make her pay for poisoning Kuai Liang, there was still a chance she would be needed in the future, should her words prove false and some sort of antidote could only be procured through her repulsive blood magic.

Hanzo fell to his knees at Kuai Liang's head, hands hovering or unsure.

"Kuai Liang..."

Shakily, Kuai Liang raised his head. Hanzo didn't hesitate to clasp his hand when it was raised and his eyes widened to feel the heat of him, hot enough to rival his own skin.

"Hanzo..." Through his fierce grimace, Hanzo saw the flicker of uncertainty, the worry and anxiety brought on by this sudden vulnerability.

"I have you," Hanzo assured him and he squeezed his hand tightly. "We will fix this, I promise you."

Kuai Liang stared into his eyes for a moment, panting, face beginning to bead with sweat.

He sagged with a nod, weary and pained.

Hanzo swallowed them both in hellfire, and only the scorched stone and Skarlet's crumpled form marked their ever being in Outworld.

[some-dr-writings]

Gundham x tattoo artist Reader

·       It was a day like any other when Gundham strolled into your life. You didn’t think much of it, he was simply one of your customers. He didn’t ask for much either just a simple design on his back, between the shoulder blades. There was just one… issue you guessed one would call it. He was a bit apprehensive for you to touch him, despite that being very necessary for the process. Strange since he didn’t seem to not like needle, just human touch. “I’ll be wearing gloves through the whole process, just standard protocol.” That somehow eased him a bit, but… that interaction stuck with you, even after your work was done. He was very pleased with your work… you thought at least. He was smiling as he spoke those… words? He had a very flowery vocabulary that went straight over your head at times, especially when he became excited.

·       After that you simply went about your life. You had actually completely forgotten about him till as you were exiting your workplace one wintery day. You sighed, watching your frozen breath drifting away, smiling to yourself, recalling those long gone days where you and your friends fancied yourselves as dragons, smoke wasting from your nostrils preparing to unleash a burst of flames from your mouth to warm yourself and the frosty world around you. Was that where your love of dragons came from you wondered. You dug your hands into the pockets of your coat, your gloves not being enough to keep them from freezing. Letting out a huff you watched your breath, wishing you truly could breathe fire like you had drawn so many times over as a child of your dragonsona… rather embarrassing times to recall. As your cheeks steadily darkened that bright apple red due to the memories instead of the cold as most would assume, you didn’t notice that dark cloaked figure approach you. “So it seem I’ve caught you just in time.” “Huh? Oh, it’s you. Hello. I assume you want another tattoo?” “Greetings, and your intuition is correct, I wish to seek thy aid in concentrating my power in this form, increasing my astral level. Your last talisman has done wonders and only one with as high a skill level as you may even come close to accomplishing that which I seek.” “astral… Uh… I’m on break right now, you can talk with Troy, they just started their shift and I think they’re open right now.” “What!? I scoff at such a statement! Are your ears clogged by this ice that’s consumed the land? I had stated before, did I not, that only one of your skill may take up this task?” “Still? Well, Troy is new but they’re talented, I can assure that you’re in good hands… Uh, that is what you’re upset about, right?” “Are you mocking me!?” “No? I’m just… having a hard time understand you, but I’m trying my best.” No, not that! Sending me off to seek out another in your stead.” “… You… only want me to work on you?” With his arms crossed he closed his eyes, giving you a single curt nod. “Indeed.” “… Buy me lunch.” Before Gundham could respond you started walking away. “Excuse me!?” “You’re using up my break time which is short. Buy me lunch and we can discuss what you’d like during my break so we can get straight to business when my break ends.” “Hmm.” After a moment Gundham trotted up to you, silently agreeing to this.

·       “Animals?” “Indeed, do you believe you can complete such a task?” “Well…” Resting your chin on your propped-up hand you mulled it over, slowly munching on our lunch. “Yeah, I’ve done animals before. I specialize with scaled or feathered critters though. I mean I an do fur well, but I certainly have more practice with the other two.” “That I can see, your fondness for such creatures is imprinted into your being.” You smiled, looking to your sleeve tattoo with a snakelike dragon predominantly on it. “Yeah, kinda obvious, I guess. Hell, drawing those guys so much is why I pursued this path in the first place. Being payed to draw what I love most in a rather permanent form sounded nice to me.” You caught how Gundham’s eyes seemed to sparkle at that. “I even have some friends at home. A python and a pair of macaws. Ah, the stories I can conjure up of those three troublemakers.” You lightly chuckled, shaking your head recalling the many messes they managed to get themselves into. “Oh go on, I’d love to hear of such tales.” “Maybe on our next date, we really need to get back to business now.” You were desperate to repress your laughter seeing how Gundham instantly grew flustered, his pale skin igniting in those bright red hues. “I jest, I jest, but we do need to talk business though. A small spot between your shoulder blades is one thing, a full sleeve is another, but the rest of your back would take a long time, many sessions along with time for your skin to heal, I also have other customers which could cause delays so, if you’re willing to be patient, I could get it done.”

·       And so Gundham would regularly come for his scheduled appointments. You quickly began to look forward to these days, over time you figured out how to translate his vernacular and you had rather fun chats with him. Eventually you ended up spending time together outside of work, first inviting him out for dinner after your shift which turned into visiting one another places, adoring their animal companions. Quickly you were just together. A mutual understanding that wasn’t explicated stated. Even after his tattoos were finished the pair of you discussed at length to adding more to it, maybe getting you some with similar elements.

·       You also rather liked how Gundham could rope his friends into getting tattoos from you. He’d gladly show them off if others asked, but especially for his high school classmates, his only human friend group it seemed. You never thought you’d get to ink a princess, but Gundham easily got that unfathomable dream to come true. He also was rather fond of showing you off to his friends, going on and on about you, your talent, animal companions, how extraordinary you were at drawing out other’s inner power! You were rather calm and chill most everyone but one person you were a bit… on edge around was Fuyuhiko. It was nothing he did, it was just what he represented. You rather despised the stigmatism that only gang members like he got tattoos, people like him gave your art and profession a bad name, even being banned from some places if you had tattoos, no matter who you were. It didn’t help that Fuyuhiko got work for the Kuzuryu clan for you, but… he was a nice guy. You liked him but didn’t care for what his predecessors had done.

·       Gundham’s friends were certainly a colorful bunch and welcomed you with open arms.

·       Despite Gundham being perfectly fine with you sticking ink into his skin he was still apprehensive to touch. This especially so with strangers who wanted to be rather touchy of his tattooed arm. You’d often have to calm Gundham or tell off the strangers before they touched him. Each time you did so Gundham would heartfully thank you. At first the only touch your Overlord of Ice was alright with was you laying your hands upon your work, “What you’ve given me, it is like eternal contact, your power is imbued there, and with such a concentration of power you are safe from my own.” You didn’t truly know the extent of those words till you started noticing a habit of his. Whenever he was uncomfortable or upset, he’d gently rub his sleeve tattoo. “W-why, I do so?” A blush would flair across his face as his demeanor turned sheepish, tenderly holding his tattooed arm. “You’ve left an eternal mark upon my being. No matter where or when, you are with me, I may a fragment of your embrace even when, I, myself is yet prepared for such connection… I… I thank you so much for your understand on this matter, how you’ve always respected it.”

·       Gundham always served as your muse when you needed inspiration when drawing or making new designs. You adored watching him interacting with animals, how he so earnestly smiled in that way only he could that melted our heart each and every time. Everything abut him was just so captivating to you. You also loved how you’d catch Gundham not so covertly looking your shoulder, curious as to what shape you were forming with those misshapen lines.

·       The pair of your adored one another. You happily gave Gundham more tattoos while he helped you figure out what you wanted for yourself next. You both were amazing for one another, always serving as inspiration for the other. You both loved one another, wanting to help the other in whatever they pursued. Neither of you could want for another.

[kingborb]

Spill the tea bestie :0 I'm pretty curious. Deadass I'm so glad, literally EVERYONE I know loves nick and/or dogmeat ONLY and it's so tedious and stale to me. It also makes talking about fallout 4 so boring bc they haven't traveled with anyone else but Nick and dogmeat 😫

Yeah, that's a huge problem and I'm having it too, especially when the tier S companions for me are Preston, X6, Hancock and Gage XD Ok then, I think I can adress few things, why not c: It will be the longest post ever, cause I will try to write everything I can about this topic (cause it bothers me so much). You don't have to read my rumbles of course, I will make tl;dr version somewhere at the end just in case you get bored, my friendly anon <3

Oh and if you want to talk about any companion (I've done everyone except Dance), you can hit me on dms or asks, feel free to do whatever suits you! :3

So I have a few problems with Nick, some of them might not be that serious or game changing, others were huge when I encountered them for the first time. Let's spill some tea on one of the most beloved characters in this game!

1) People see Nick as an empathic person who wants to help people, makes rational, unbiased decisions, and has a good reason to be against the Institute. When I can agree with some of those things, this image of him was ruined for me in the Acadia. Okay, okay, I understand that DiMA actually murdered Avery and it wasn't a good choice. However, it bothers me that Nick sees nothing against forcing DiMA to confess to people from Far Harbor about what he had done in the past (and Nick actually likes this choice!). It is pretty obvious that he would die there and every other synth on the island would share the same fate if not now, then probably in the nearest future. And even if Aleen kills 'only' DiMA (because of the speech check with you) Acadia would fall anyway. Why? Tell me - who would be their next lider? Maybe the ex-courser whose mission is bringing back synths to the safe place because DiMA said it's the right thing to do? Or maybe 'dearest Faraday', depressed after the fact that some random wastelander came to the Acadia and convinced his loved one to literally commit suicide? The only safe place for synths who don't want their minds to be wiped by the Railroad or the Institute would be gone forever and for Nick, our 2nd gen hero, it is the right thing to do. Great. Fantastic. I love his logic.

2) Nick sees DiMA only as a murderer, even though he kills with you so many people on everyday basis... I know it's not the same. But c'mon! DiMA killed once because he knew his people were in danger. It was them or Far Harbor, and obviously he chose the Acadia. What a surprise. I wonder what Nick would do in that situation... I know I'm a bit biased with some of my opinions here, but I love so much the concept of the Acadia and 2nd gen gay nearly-pacifist Plato that DiMA is. Nick doesn't understand that the whole Acadia is in constant danger because of some bigotry in Far Harbor and Children of Atom being, well... Children of Atom. And he does nothing when people from Far Harbor murder not only DiMA but the entirety of Acadia - a group of innocent synths. Their lives apperently mean less for Nick than hiding one bad thing done in the past...

3) So now we can begin the next chapter which is the Railroad. Nick loves their every move, of course he does... I don't want to talk about them too much, but here I can mention their fantastic standards, when it comes to synths. They're killing the 1st gen and the 2nd gen, they're saving the 3rd gen... and what about the coursers? Desdemona is calling them per 'IT'. Fucking hypocrisy hits hard on that one. I know they're enemies but man... Why are you objectifying them? Why are you assuming they don't have personalities only because they're fucking brainwashed and controlled as hell? The existence of Chase and Harkness shows that coursers can resist too, so... Yeah I have a general problem with the Railroad and their double standards, but this fact is killing me every time. And about Nicky, oh... I'm sorry man, but they will shoot you on the side, when you will take off your clothes and appear as every other 1st and 2nd gen.

4) So here's the another thing, which is the atmosphere around him and a character building. People seem to like Nick because he's a unique synth (that's actually a great point) and because of the noir/detective vibe around him (as with Deacon/Railorad and their secret agents vibe - I get that too). I know, I know it's pretty fun to have the 2nd gen experimental synth as a companion who has memories of the detective from the past with... A DEAD FIANCÉE. Yup. Another one. That's why I don't like Deacon's and Maccready's stories too (and the main plot of fo4, especially when I want to play as a character without a wife and a fucking kid...). I like his storyline, don't get me wrong. However I think some companions in fo4 are well-written as well, maybe even better than Nick (I like in them the lack of dead wifes!). The last standing Minutemen, depressed and traumatised, who is such a sweetheart anyway. A killing machine which turns out to be real human being with fears, emotions and insecurities. An asshole who becomes a raider because he didn't want to suffer the same pain as his parents did, and has trust issues because of his past. A lonely, depressed drug addict who wants to see good in people but was rejected by his own brother only because he has became a ghoul. Again, don't get me wrong - Nick's story is really interesting and tragic as hell. His problems with his identity, personality splited between the prewar detective and the 2nd gen synth... It's all fascinating, however I will not forgive the developers recycling over and over again the same fucking cishet tragic story with dead wife/fiancée/whatever. It gets boring and repetitive after the main plot honestly.

5) WHERE THE HELL DID KELLOGG GO AFTER CORRUPTING NICK'S MIND ONCE?! TODD. WHY. It would have been much more interesting than another dead loved one plot. Todd, you lazy ass. He had offered so many, and he gave nothing back... As he always does.

6) The last one, I promise... Nick's reaction after siding with the Institute bothers me so much (the same deal with Piper). I. Am. The. Director. Of. The. Fucking. Thing. And it means I can do whatever I want, cause the director has a pretty authoritarian power there. So I can change everything, including the way they treat synths, accept or deny their experiments, say goodbye to some nasty scientists... The Institute route is not ideal in any way, however I see it as the only reasonable path in this game, even from the lore perspective. The Brotherhood is just a bunch of shitheads in the blimp, and I've said enough here about the Railroad earlier. The Minutemen are great but I would like to have an option to connect their morals with the Institute's resources and wabam - you've got the true happy ending in fo4. I understand why Nick is pissed, however if you are with him on the highest level of the relationship, he knows that you are an emphatic person who wants to make Commonwealth a better place for everyone including synths, ghouls, etc. It would be logical for him to not see you as a traitor. But well, I guess I'm wrong. Whatever, Nicky, whatever...

So here's the lazy version:

1)/2) Nick likes convincing DiMA to tell everyone in Far Harbor that he killed Avery. Nicky does nothing when people from Far Harbor kill innocent synths.

3) The Railroad and their double standards, when it comes to synths, especially coursers, but 1st and 2nd gens too. Nick loves it when you're helping the Railroad, even though they would kill him on a spot if he forgot to wear his clothes, so...

4) Another companion with dead wife/fiancée needs your help.

5) Kellogg in Nicky's mind. Missed opportunity for a good plot... What a shame, Todd.

6) Siding with the Institute and Nick's reaction to that, even when you're at the maximum level of the relationship with him.