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#the first line is 'everything that's evil is all coming back' and I don't have much for this one but it could apply to
rollercoasterwords · 12 hours
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this chapter was so emotional and sad. The way remus was touching sirius, feeling his heartbeat and putting his hand on his chest all the time, like he needed to feel close to sirius’ heart :( I wonder what was going through his head
yeah…might be slightly spoilery but i’m actually in the mood 2 talk a bit abt what’s going on inside his head so 🤭
the thing is i’ve literally been thinking abt this for months like. this was part of a convo i had explaining this whole arc back in january:
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so like. literally for remus this whole experience has been. forced 2 work w a guy who represents everything u hate -> start 2 realize that maybe there's more 2 him & begin 2 empathize w him -> hate urself 4 it & hate him for it -> conflicting loop of feelings where u care about him but u hate that u care so u try 2 stop it but u can't stop it. figure once ur done w this mission u won't ever have 2 see him again so just push everything down
and THEN the mission goes sideways and suddenly s is right there. and they need to get him 2 work w the order. and the thing is s was sponsoring him for a year and a half. like they had a year and a half of slowly developing this relationship that r absolutely did not want but was unable to stop feeling things about and was made even more painful by the fact that he knew it was all built on a lie--like even when he did let himself feel something for s, the follow-up to that was immediately like 'oh but this is all fake he wouldn't act this way or be like this if he knew what was really going on.'
so then s is there at order hq and r's walls are immediately back up & he's putting all his effort into reinforcing them. he's like yeah that year and a half was all fake it was just an act none of it was real and i don't care about u. & all he wants is 2 ignore s & move on but he's right there! working w the order! befriending lily! but r is still like. well he's just playing along til he can escape surely that's it. and then suddenly hq gets attacked and it's just the five of them in this little flat and r is still trying 2 ignore him & keep his walls up but he is also still inexplicably drawn 2 him and can't entirely fight it...and then they finally put some of the animosity aside & start working together & he can't ignore the fact that. hey maybe some of that goodness i saw before was real...and even the badness is no longer entirely the same like he's changed! he's grown! he's still changing and growing and like r says when he finally confesses--it isn't fair! (does he say that? i actually can't remember if i ended up including that line or not lol. anyway) like it isn't fair because s is supposed to be evil and everything r stands against and everything he hates and yet he's come along and wormed his way into r's life and made r care about him and part of him hates that but most of him is like. falling in love. and unable to completely deny it anymore. and when they finally reach this breaking point where r essentially confesses all this it's like. he's letting his walls down, finally, after this slow and painful breakdown of all these defenses, and he's letting himself feel hopeful and be vulnerable and think ok maybe we can have something real.
and quite literally immediately after that it's ripped away. and not only ripped away, but r finds out that s knew, when they had that first kiss, that he was going to be losing his memory, that he planned to leave like this, and he still smashed through all r's fucking walls and made him hope they could have something real, knowing it wasn't true. so he's pretty fucking furious! and he's immediately swinging back into denial! the walls are back up reinforced he's like fuck sirius black i hate that man and his fucking mind games i don't fucking love him and i never will so i don't even fucking care that he's gone.
problem with that is. well of course it's not entirely true is it. and as much as he's trying not to care he can't help agonizing over what s could possibly be going through, whether he'll even make it through this alive or whether voldemort will just kill him, and he hates s for making him care and then putting himself in jeopardy like this because now r has to suffer this horrible burden of just worrying about him all the time, even when he doesn't want to, and he also has to carry this burden of wanting him back and wanting things back the way they were even though he knows it's not possible, and he hates s for making him want that, too.
so. yeah. all those conflicting feelings are there during the hookup. and in this ch he's like. giving up, essentially. like he is constantly battling the remnants of this love but for this one night he gives up the fight and just lets himself feel for s, and not all of it's good--the love and the hate are very much intertwined, at this point--but for one night at least he can pretend that he has him and they're together in the way they might have been, had s not left. and it's all confused and compounded by the fact that s doesn't know him, and still finds him, and still wants him, and yet clearly isn't treating this the same way--for s, it's just a casual one-night stand, and it hurts that he can't feel the way r is, but it also hurts when there are those flashes of something deeper, because recognizing the depth of what they might have had if they both just hadn't denied it for so long is incredibly painful. and r is feeling all this, but he isn't consciously processing it--he's shoving all of it down and away and going "this doesn't even matter, it's just a one night stand, i'm not going to care about this" etc. etc. fun!
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ktempestbradford · 29 days
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I have been on a Willy Wonkified journey today and I need y'all to come with me
It started so innocently. Scrolling Google News I come across this article on Ars Technica:
At first glance I thought what happened was parents saw AI-generated images of an event their kids were at and became concerned, then realized it was fake. The reality? Oh so much better.
On Saturday, event organizers shut down a Glasgow-based "Willy's Chocolate Experience" after customers complained that the unofficial Wonka-inspired event, which took place in a sparsely decorated venue, did not match the lush AI-generated images listed on its official website.... According to Sky News, police were called to the event, and "advice was given."
Thing is, the people who paid to go were obviously not expecting exactly this:
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But I can see how they'd be a bit pissed upon arriving to this:
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It gets worse.
"Tempest, how could it possibly--"
source of this video that also includes this charming description:
Made up a villain called The Unknown — 'an evil chocolate maker who lives in the walls'
There is already a meme.
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Oh yes, the Wish.com Oompa Loompa:
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Who has already done an interview!
As bad (and hilarious) as this all is, I got curious about the company that put on this event. Did they somehow overreach? Did the actors they hired back out at the last minute? (Or after they saw the script...) Oddly enough, it doesn't seem so!
Given what I found when poking around I'm legit surprised there was an event at all. Cuz this outfit seems to be 100% a scam.
The website for this specific event is here and it has many AI generated images on it, as stated. I don't think anyone who bought tickets looked very closely at these images, otherwise they might have been concerned about how much Catgacating their children would be exposed to.
Yes, Catgacating. You know, CATgacating!
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I personally don't think anyone should serve exarserdray flavored lollipops in public spaces given how many people are allergic to it. And the sweet teats might not have been age appropriate.
Though the Twilight Tunnel looks pretty cool:
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I'm not sure that Dim Tight Twdrding is safe. I've also been warned that Vivue Sounds are in that weird frequency range that makes you poop your pants upon hearing them.
Yes, Virginia, these folks used an AI image generator for everything on the website and used Chat GPT for some of the text! From the FAQ:
Q: I cannot go on the available days. Will you have more dates in the future? A: Should there be capacity when you arrive, then you will be able to enter without any problems. In the event that this is not the case, we may ask you to wait a bit.
Fear not, for this question is asked again a few lines down and the answer makes more sense.
Curious about the events company behind this disaster, I took myself over to the homepage of House of Illuminati and I was not disappointed.
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I would 100% trust these people to plan my wedding.
This abomination of a website is a badly edited WordPress blog filled with AI art and just enough blog posts to make the casual viewer think that it's a legit business for about 0.0004 seconds.
Their attention to detail is stunning, from how they left up the default first post every WP blog gets to how they didn't bother changing the name on several images, thus revealing where they came from. Like this one:
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With the lovely and compact filename "DALL·E-2024-01-30-09.50.54-Imagine-a-scene-where-fantasy-and-reality-merge-seamlessly.-In-the-foreground-a-grand-interactive-gala-is-taking-place-filled-with-elegant-guests-i.png"
"Concept.png" came from the same AI generator that gets text almost, but not quiiiiiite right:
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There are a suspicious number of .webp images in the uploads, which makes me think they either stole them from other sites where AI "art" was uploaded or they didn't want to pay for the hi-res versions of some and just grabbed the preview image.
The real fun came when I noticed this filename: Before-and-After-Eventologists-Transformation-Edgbaston-Cricket-Ground-1024x1024-1.jpg and decided to do a Google image search. Friends, you will be shocked to hear that the image in question, found on this post touting how they can transform a boring warehouse into a fun event space, was stolen from this actual event planner.
Even better, this weirdly grainy image?
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From a post that claims to be about the preparations for a "Willy Wonka" experience (we'll get to this in a minute), is not only NOT an actual image of anyone preparing anything for Illuminati's event, it is stolen from a YouTube thumbnail that's been chopped to remove the name of the company that actually made this. Here's the video.
If you actually read the blog posts they're all copypasta or some AI generated crap. To the point where this seems like not a real business at all. There's very specific business information at the bottom, but nothing else seems real.
As I said, I'm kinda surprised they put on an event at all. This has, "And then they ran off with all our money!" written all over it. I'm perplexed.
And also wondering when the copyright lawyers are gonna start calling, because...
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This post explicitly says they're putting together a "Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory Experience" complete with golden tickets.
Somewhere along the line someone must have wised up, because the actual event was called "Willys Chocolate Experience" (note the lack of apostrophe) and the script they handed to the actors about 10 minutes before they were supposed to "perform" was about a "Willy McDuff" and his chocolate factory.
As I was going through this madness with friends in a chat, one pointed out that it took very little prompting to get the free Chat GPT to spit out an event description and such very similar to all this while avoiding copyrighted phrases. But he couldn't figure out where the McDuff came from since it wasn't the type of thing GPT would usually spit out...
Until he altered the prompt to include it would be happening in Glasgow, Scotland.
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You cannot make this stuff up.
But truly, honestly, I do not even understand why they didn't take the money and run. Clearly this was all set up to be a scam. A lazy, AI generated scam.
Everything from the website to the event images to the copy to the "script" to the names of things was either stolen or AI generated (aka stolen). Hell, I'd be looking for some poor Japanese visitor wandering the streets of Glasgow, confused, after being jacked for his mascot costume.
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HE LIVES IN THE WALLS, Y'ALL.
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dcxdpdabbles · 3 months
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There are so many fics out there where Danny is either adopted by or the biological son of Bruce. In many of these he might have an existential crisis but other wise he is fine and happy to be part of the BatFam. Where are the ones where he fights against this just doesn't want to connect with Bruce of the rest of the family.
One: Bruce is a billionaire and Danny has had some bad experience with Vlad trying to adopt/get him as a son. So even if Bruce is one of "the good ones" Danny does't like billionaires.
Two: Danny for the most part grew up in a mostly normal family and home, with two Parents and a sibling. Most of the BatFam were only children and parents are dead or came from dysfunctional homes. I think Duke is the only one who really had a normal childhood.
Three: The Fenton family is pretty openly affectionate with each other and are pretty normal emotionally. Danny has a great relationship with all of them (Danny went evil in the timeline where they all died). Most of the Batfam is emotionally constipated.
Four: Danny is used to his boundaries being respected. I don't think that the Batfam is great at that. With Bruce needing to know everything, Tim's stalking tendencies, Barbra's hacking, just to name the obvious.
Danny knew that he was adopted into the Fentons. His parents had never hidden it from him, but they never treated him as anything besides their child.
He had come into their lives one day when one of Maddie's old high school friends had called, bawling that she had gotten pregnant and that her husband wasn't the father. He had discovered the truth and thrown her out, leaving her pregnant and alone on the streets of Gotham.
Maddie had been furious at the affair- she hated disloyalty- but had decided to help her only for the baby's sake.
She had driven over multiple state lines back to her home city to pick up the friend only to find out she had taken her life and left her newborn son to Maddie. While Maddie had been able to escape the hellhole that was Gotham, Rebecca never got the chance, not with her average intelligence.
In high school, the two were as close as sisters until Rebecca fell into the whisky bottles her father carelessly left around. She blossomed into a beautiful woman upon their graduation- more so than Maddie-, turning from a sweet homebody into someone who got into exclusive parties and powerful men.
Maddie had slowly drifted away from her, so far away at college, and Rebecca fell further and further into the party scene. It was a surprise that she settled down for marriage and Maddie truly believed that she had been happy with her husband.
That's why Danny was such a surprise. Maddie did not know who Danny's biological father was, but she did not care. Not after they placed the sobbing infant into her arms, and she realized that she was his mother now.
She immediately phoned Jack to tell him what had happened, and he told Jazz she was a big sister before the call ended. They told him the story about when he started to learn his colors. Not with her taking her life, of course; that was when Danny turned fourteen. This was only a few days before Danny revealed he was Phantom to them.
They were first shocked, but then they became supportive. Phantom now had two proud ghost hunters following him, shooting photos instead of guns.
It was embarrassing, but it was also nice of them.
And that was that. Danny is a Fenton, adopted, but a child of Maddie and Jack Fenton all the same.
He never gave his biological parents a thought. In fact, he all but forgot about them until Sam convinced him to take an ancestry test. He had allowed her to swipe his mouth, package his DNA, and send it off to see where his people came from, completely forgetting that he would not match with Jazz, who had done the same thing a month prior.
His results were shocking, to say the least.
Somehow, someway, Rebecca Silver had been in the system of DNA samples, and they had matched him to her alongside his biological father.
Bruce Wayne. Rebecca had an affair with Bruce Wayne, arguably one of the wealthiest men in the country, and they had sent him a message to let him know he matched with his son.
An eccentric billionaire has just been told that Danny was his. He knew that song and dance well, and it was never fun to dance to. Danny could only stare at the results with dread as Sam apologized profoundly.
"Maybe he won't see it." Tucker tried. "I mean, Wayne is probably so busy with rich people stuff he doesn't have time to even look at his emails. Especially ones that will come in spam since it's comersolized."
"Yeah, Maybe" Danny doesn't think he's that lucky.
A month later, the Fenton's home phone rings. His parents are working on a new invention on the dinning room table, Danny is stretched out in front of the TV watching a mindless cartoon and Jazz is crocheting in the love chair.
It's a typical Tuesday night where everyone is doing their own thing but close enough to each other that they can call it family time. Jazz is the closest to the house phone so she picks it up with a cheerful "Fenton house, this is Jasmine."
Her smile slowly slips away as all the blood drains from her face. Alarmed by her reaction, Danny sits up. "Jazz? What's wrong?"
His words have his parents' heads snapping up, zoning in on their daughter's rapidly growing destress. Yes, they get distracted often with their work, but the Fentons have always been loving parents.
They quickly spring into action.
"Jazzy-pants?" His dad says, walking up to her and taking the phone from her slack hand. He covers the speaking end of it, not paying attention to the call as his mom hugs his sister. "What's the matter?"
"It's... Bruce Wayne's lawyer," Jazz says faintly. "He's calling about Danny. He said that Mr. Wayne has been attempting to take Danny back and that they are going to take us to court soon."
The room goes dead quiet, and Danny snorts. "He can't do that without a letter or something. Come on Jazz, it's obviously a prank."
Someone at school likely found out and thought it would be funny to make "the biggest loser of Casper High" Danny Fenton, think a billionaire wanted him as a son. Honestly, he wouldn't put it past the A-listers.
He laughs to show how stupid this prank is, but neither of his parents joins him. Instead, his mother closes her eyes and whispers, "We received his court papers weeks ago. We've been trying to get a lawyer."
What.
She pushes Jazz into his dad's arms, where his sister is slowly panicking. His dad tries to soothe her as his mom opens the drawer under the TV, pulling out three orange envelopes. She looks remorseful as she hands them to Danny. "We didn't want you to worry. I'm sorry we didn't tell you sooner. Vlad said he would help, but he wasn't sure what he could do against such a powerful man"
And there, in overly complicated terms, is clear as day. Bruce Wayne wanted full custody of Danny Fenton and was willing to take the Fentons to court to get it done.
The man- who has never so much as met Danny, much less have a right to say what happens to him- was accusing his parents of child abuse and child neglect! He not only was trying to take Danny away but Jazz as well!
Where did this man get the audacity!?
"I don't want to go with him!" He shouts rage, making his eyes glow green. "I don't even know him!"
"I know, sweetie. I won't let him take you" His mom says, yanking him into a protective hug, and he realizes that her shirt is getting wet with his tears. Tears that fall just like the woman who raised him. "Everything will be alright."
It won't be, he knows, but he won't tell her that. He just lets his mother hold him, and when his sister and father crash into the hug a second later, he holds them just as tight.
He's not sure how they will win against Bruce Wayne, but Danny will fight his biological father every step of the way. He will not be his son.
______________________________________________________________
Bruce stares at the photo of Danny Fenton- his son. His boy, whom he wasn't aware was alive until a month ago- and the reports from concerned teachers and whatever information Barbra could pull from his classmate's social media.
Dramatically dropping grades.
Clear signs of sleepless nights.
Flinches whenever his parents pull out "ghost hunting" gear.
Strange bruises and cuts along his arms and legs.
His small stature is no longer growing properly like his peers.
It all pointed to one thing. The Fentons were abusing his son and Bruce would bet the sister was suffering from the same treatment if her own grade dropping, sleepless eyes, and desperate race to adulthood were any indication.
Bruce laces his hands, resting his chin on them as the Batcomputer slowly flips through various reports being quickly dismissed by incompetent social workers who all claim it was Ghost Hunter related and not a cause for concern.
Those same social workers all seemed to have gotten quite generous donations from one Vlad Masters, a well-known family friend of the Fentons.
He hates corruption that allows children to be hurt, more so when it;'s his own children.
"When do we go retrieve Brother?" Damian asks, green eyes narrowing in rage as the reports scroll slowly. Ever since he found out Danny is a blood sibling, all Damian has been talking about is getting his elder brother home. "I am displeased with how long it's been, Father."
"Soon," Bruce promises, aware the rest of his children gather around him. They don't speak, but he feels their protective rage at what Danny has gone through, and he knows they will use every last bit of their training to get Danny home. "Either through the courts or in person. Danny will be with us come summer."
"Good," grunts Jason. "I'll have a little chat with his adoptive scumbags when we get him."
"I'll help," Dick tacks on.
"I'll make it look like an accident," Tim says, voice leveled but eyes blazing as the reports get to the neglect section. He has personal issues about that.
Bruce has never been so proud. "Court date is set for three weeks. They can't weasel their way out of it this time."
Don't worry son, he thinks to Danny, I'm going to save you.
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fieldofdaisiies · 1 month
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Whispers of the Forgotten | pt. 2
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pairing: azriel x reader | type: angst | words: 2,6k words | masterlist
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"And what now?" The general's voice is still tinged with the shock from the earlier happenings, his breathing ragged.
"The box won't open without…I don't know. Without what?" Cassian looks at Nesta and only wants to wrap her into his arms, keeping her safe. Nesta holds Ataraxia tightly in her hands, face displaying nothing but strength and determination, but when her eyes slide to the box, completely untouched and closed, on the table in front of her, in the middle of Rhysand's office, disappointment passes over her features. It makes the former determination disappear and her shoulders slouch. Nesta looks exhausted, even a little sad and Cassian just wants to hold her, tell her she did her best, that she did everything she could and it is enough. 
"We need magic. A greater force," Nesta breathes, gaze not wavering, trained on the little onyx box. Vassa, the clever fire bird, managed to steal the box Koschei always kept with him. They need to destroy it in order to destroy him, but right now it seems impossible — they can't do it. At least not with the tools at hand. 
Even Amren is clueless. What should they do? How should they go forward? 
Silence, palpable and heavy, falls upon the room and for a moment everyone seems clueless until—
Amren taps her fingers against her chin and then opens her mouth. "There is one person that I know that could be able to open this box." 
The temperature in the office cools at least five degrees, a chill coursing through it. Amren moves towards the desk, fingers tracing a line over the box, eyes squinted. "She has power beyond our knowledge." Amren inhales a deep breath. "And you, boys, put her in the Prison many years ago. Many centuries ago." She looks over her shoulder, dark hair shifting with the movement. "Azriel, Cassian."
A cold shiver cascades down Azriel's spine. A Prison inmate would be their solution? It can't be—
"We can't free a prison inmate," Cassian says, voice strong. 
"Of course not, we can also let Koschei destroy us." Amren's statement is gleeful, almost mocking of the general. Cassian only narrows his eyes at her, fighting the urge to flip her off. 
"I mean, how can we be sure she is loyal to us and not to…Koschei. Or that she doesn't try to murder us the first chance she gets?" Cassian looks a bit scared and Amren frowns at him. 
"Why should she be loyal to Koschei?" she asks in a bored voice. 
"If she is a creature that has to be kept in the Prison the connection for her to be loyal to the Death Lord or any kind of evil spirit is not too far fetched," Cassian says and lifts his arms in despair. 
Nesta takes a step back, moving closer to her mate, her heart still racing with the former actions. She was the one who tried to open the box, but failed. The power that held it close is just too strong. Alone the trial left its markings on her skin, on her body. She is shivering, goosebumps spreading all over her body. The ancient force having fought against her, fiercely. 
"Remember where I come from, boy," Amren snaps and throws Cassian a deadly look. "I've been in there once as well. And I know her. I know about her. And I know that she will help us and isn't loyal to Koschei."
Rhysand, formerly having been calm, silently observing the situation, now steps in, Nyx cradled to his chest. "Can we truly trust her, Amren?" His voice is deep and strong, bouncing of the walls of his office. 
They can't risk anything and freeing someone from the Prison can be deadly and cause more problems than they already have.
"We can." Her statement is steadfast, like nothing can shake her belief that the female in question can truly be their life saver. "She might be a little out of practice after being locked away for centuries, but I know she has the kind of power and magic to open this box. After all she was part of…them."
"Of who?" It is Gwyn who asks this question, her voice hushed, almost like whispering about a secret. 
Amren turns her head to the priestess, smirking. "Of the Wild Hunt. Not their leader, but the second-in-command." 
Silent gasps rumble through the room, and surprise flickers over Gwyn's young face. She has heard about the Wild Hunt, read about it, but she had no idea that someone who was apart of it was locked away in the prison. 
Shock takes root in Azriel's chest, rattling his very bones. He has to grab the backrest of the chair in front of him to keep from tumbling. There is only one female this description fits. A female he locked into the prison himself. A female who promised vendetta. A female he loved once. You. 
His throat works on a swallow, shadows nervously swirling around him. Azriel isn't the type to be scared of most things, but you? You are a different kind. A different breed. Something otherworldly. Something - a being - that indeed scares him. 
"We can use the Harp to enter the cell," Nesta suggests and earns herself a round of agreement and planning immediately starts. But Azriel is unfocused. He thoughts return to you. Always. His body feels weak and he is shaking on the inside. For centuries he has been thinking about you, and now…
"Azriel, you will get her." The shadowsinger wants to say no, but he can't. He has to do it. If someone frees you, it has to be him. So, he only bows his head in silent agreement and already moves towards the door. 
"I'll return with her," he says as a matter of good bye, his mind too distressed, his body still in shock, to answer anything else or to do anything else. 
───── ⋆⋅ ☽☾ ⋅⋆ ─────
The prison still looks the same. The same dark stone walls, the same mossy smell. The only thing that has changed is Azriel himself. He no longer is this young boy that would do anything the High Lord tells him, without the blink of an eye. He has grown now, and he knows that what he did to you back then, was wrong. The situation — you — should have been handled differently. But he can't take back his actions. But maybe, maybe there is a chance for him to explain it all to you. 
His steps hollow through the dimly lit halls, prison cells on either side of it.
He still remembers your cell. It is a memory imprinted on his mind, but one that has been locked away for hundreds of years. 
A cold shiver curls around his spine, just like his shadows curl around his body.
He had clamped down on the pain for so long, for centuries, but now that he is here again it all comes back and nearly breaks him. Now, he can't believe what he did. He can't believe he hurt you like this.
Why did he not try to fight? Why did he not choose another option.
Because there wasn't one. It was the only option to keep you safe. To protect you. And your safety was always his priority. Even if it meant locking you in here and ripping his own heart into shreds.
───── ⋆⋅ ☽☾ ⋅⋆ ─────
"Hush little baby, don't say a word, Papa's gonna buy you a mockingbird. And if that mockingbird won't sing, Papa's gonna buy you a diamond ring. And if that diamond ring turns to brass—"
Your voice catches in your throat, when your nostrils flare, taking in the new, uncommon scent. Someone is here. Someone that hasn’t been here in a long time. The scent is not fully unfamiliar, but you also don’t remember its owner. Until—
A nest of shadows is the first thing you see when the door to your cell opens. The black mist clears and reveals a male of ethereal beauty. A male you've come to loathe even more with every passing century.
"Shadowsinger." A vicious grin spreads over your face, showing your elongated canines. "We meet again."
Alongside the general of the Illyrian armies, the spymaster caught you and put you in this Cauldron-damned prison. It had been centuries ago. But you haven't forgotten. You never will. But why he returned is a mystery….
Before he can so much as blink, you lunge at him, chains clattering on the cold stone floor, covered in dirt and mould. You want to claw at his throat, at best rip it out. The fire of fury inside of you has burned for centuries, wasn't diminished once. And his presence alone added enough fuel to make your weak and broken body move. The sound of the chains reverberates through the dank, musty air, your long, elongated canines gleaming with a feral snarl. 
"I'm going to kill you." But you can't. Technically, you can't kill him while in here. Magic binds your power and you are restrained, also by magical chains, that keep you from moving too far or too close to him. But that doesn't stop you from trying. 
Hatred, raw and powerful, fuels you and makes you blind with the only thing on your mind being to end his life. He condemned you to this wretched, soul-crushing place. He never cared that you had no choice other than being part of the Wild Hunt. You didn't choose your fate. So, he had no right to do so either. 
"You think these chains can hold me, Azriel?" Your voice is a venomous hiss, each syllable dripping with disdain as you strain against the biting restraints, the cold metal spikes digging into your flesh. "I'll tear you limb from limb! I'll rip your throat out and watch you bleed out until the very last drop."
Azriel, his demeanour not giving away the whirlwind of emotions within him, stands in a stance, Truth-Teller clasped in his scarred hands. He seems composed and not afraid and that angers you even more. And so does his voice, cold, low, velvety. 
"I'm not here to fight you," he says, his voice steady despite the storm brewing inside the Prison cell and within both of you. "I am sorry for—"
"Stuff your apologies up your pretty ass!" With a guttural roar, you hurl yourself at him again, driven by an insatiable hunger to destroy him. Memories of the centuries that have passed, of degradation, and the pain you suffered reach the front of your mind and drive your anger forward. 
But the chains hold you back and Azriel swiftly side-steps you. It isn't even necessary. If he doesn't get any closer, there is no chance for you to reach him. 
You bare your teeth again, the thin, white nightgown clutching to your body like a second skin. You shiver, but not from the cold, rather from the rage blazing through your veins. "What do you want from me? Why did you come back? Why did you come back now?" you demand, but he leaves you without an answer. 
"I don't want to hurt you," Azriel repeats instead, a note of regret tinting his voice.
"Hurt me?" You sneer. "You've already destroyed me! You broke me and you left me broken. Bloody and cold. I lay in my own puke for days, bleeding, wounded."
A pang of hurt hits Azriel right in the heart. He only followed what Rhysand's father had told him to do. He had no other choice. Everything else would have meant your death. He couldn't have risked it. 
"I come here because I—because we need your help."
His eyes drop to your hands, scars also marring them. Your pointed nails are still sharp, but brittle, almost like you have been clawing at the stone walls. 
Memories flash in his mind of how you sunk them into his skin. How you scratched them over his skin. And how…simultaneously your lips met his, mouths dancing, tongues toying—
"You betrayed me," you seethe, "and now you want my help?"
Azriel's expression looks pained, torn. His eyes drop anew, to the chains binding your feet to the wall. Your hands, though, are free and you can't wait to sink your sharp nails into his neck. Your fangs as well. 
"Only over my dead body!" you scream, fury clouding your vision like black haze. 
Only for you to realise it is not fury that clouds your vision. He is using his shadows to do so. You can't see anymore and it makes you panic. And this panic makes you lose control. You forgot about your former target, the darkness so looming and scary it makes you scream. 
Chains clatter to the ground, but you are too caught in a stupor to move. To run. To attack. 
With a swift and calculated manoeuvre, Azriel is behind you and secures handcuffs around your wrists, binding you. Binding you…binding you…You are restrained again. 
"I'm sorry, but I have to do this." His voice is softer, but it hurts you. You don't want to hear it. Don't want to see this side of him. Because it isn't his true self. His true self hurt you. Broke you. Destroyed you. 
You hate him so much, it almost hurts. You can't allow the pain. You will never allow it. You only allow anger. 
Blind rage surges within you, a thunderstorm of emotions brewing. And then he does the most unforgivable thing. He knows about your past. Knows about your fear of the dark. And yet, darkness swallows you wholly — a blindfold tightens over your eyes. Helplessness makes the content of your stomach sour and burning tears dwell in your eyes. Rage simmers beneath your skin, but it is the pain of betrayal that nearly gains the upper hand. The sort of pain you have been pushing away for centuries. 
You scream anew. His name. Curses. Noises. 
"Forgive me," Azriel whispers from behind you. "Forgive me, please."
But you wouldn't even imagine doing so. Never. Only over your dead body. 
"You'll regret this." Your voice is not strong. It is hoarse and broken. "I will never forgive you."
Azriel moves swiftly. In his hand, he holds Nesta's harp, the key that allowed him to enter your cell.
"Forgive me," he says again and his hand lands on your hip. 
You resist, squirming against his grasp, frustration and anger lacing your voice. "Let me go!" you demand, a mix of desperation and in your voice. But he is stronger. 
Ignoring your protests, Azriel gathers you in his arms, scooping you up with ease that is beyond you, cradling your frame against his chest. He adjusts his hold, ensuring you're secure and you feel that something cold, and metal - you can't quite tell- is placed on your belly. The Harp, but this knowledge is unbeknownst to you. 
"Stop fighting," he growls. "I'm taking you away from this place."
"Only to lock me up somewhere else." Your tears wet the blindfold. 
You struggle again, but it is useless against his strength. Your voice turns into a seething growl when you feel cold air brush you. Azriel rises. You rise. He is flying. And he is taking your with him. 
With a powerful surge of his wings, he gets airborne, leaving the prison behind. When air and wind swirls around you, you continue to squirm and strain against his hold.
"I won't let you imprison me again!" you seethe, fear and anger loud in your voice. 
He stays calm. 
Gradually, your resistance lessens, your body relaxing slightly against Azriel's chest, tension and pain still coiling inside of you. But you are tired. Exhausted. You only want to sleep. And that for ages. 
As you fly farther from the prison, towards Velaris, Azriel's embrace remains steadfast, his eyes brushing over your body from time to time. His actions are the only reason for you to hate him so much. And it hurts him as well. 
"Forgive me," Azriel breathes into the chilly night air, but you don't hear him anymore. 
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arikazu · 9 days
Text
Red lingerie | Hwang Hyunjin
Hyunjin birthday special
Summary : in which you give your first time as a birthday gift to Hyunjin.
My Felix ff
Will probably make a part 2
Genre : fluff, smut, doggy style style dick riding and little angst
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Minors don't interact
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First time writing smut don't laugh I know it's hard anyways happy birthday to our prince may God bless him from all the evil and give him a long and healthy life.
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the slow day in Seoul  was slowly coming to a close and the heat wasn’t helping anything either. It was late afternoon now and the street corner was already packed full of people. The air was hot and humid. They were all drinking beer or iced coffee as the sun lowered into the horizon of the city skyline. They looked tired but their smiles were warm and genuine. 
you were trying to find the best nightwear for to wear today was his day! "mmh hyunjin will like red color or black one?" you debated it was the fifth lingerie you throwed away  in the laundry basket. you sighed again, your mind going back to that fateful night when you met him for the first time. you didn't know what had gotten into you back then. maybe because he caught you by surprise at such an opportune moment in your life? or maybe because he really did look so good in his oversized hoodies that night? whatever the case.
you loved this man today was his first birthday with you as a couple  and he deserves everything that you give him. even if it means wearing nothing more than lingerie for hours on end, no matter how much he complains about it. "yes, yes," you said aloud to yourself. you picked another piece of lace out of the drawer "let's do red then..."
hyunjin was in the living room sipping  on a glass of wine and watching tv. he had just finished a long day of work where the only thing he wanted is some peace and quiet to get through this week.
his phone rang Felix was calling . Hyunjin answered it with the phone held up between both hands and the wine glass balanced on his thigh. he heard Felix talking over the other side of the line.  he could hear something about "your favorite dongsaeng" and then Hyunjin laughed softly.  he knew Felix would be excited.
"what is it Felix?"  he asked in English. he couldn't help but laugh, knowing Felix was excited at this moment too.  hyunjin felt giddy inside knowing he was doing the same right now. 
"birthday dinner right now!"  Felix screamed from the other side of the line. "come on hyunjin let's go!" 
"what about y/n?"  hyunjin asked looking back at the bedroom door. he wondered if she was busy with work or something else.
"come on we boys will celebrate " Felix shouted once more, "now hurry up!"  before he hung up the phone.  Hyunjin chuckled, he was so lucky to have friends like these.
he put his drink down on the coffee table "hey love" hyunjin mumbled as he entered their shared room . he walked up behind her, kissing your neck lightly.
hyunjin laughed "why are you wearing a big jacket" 
 he said as he hugged you from behind. "and your hair looks beautiful. I'm glad i got to see you today." he continued stroking her back in a soothing rhythm, his hand tracing small circles into your skin."thanks to you, my beautiful woman," he kissed her cheek gently.
you smirked and pushed him onto the bed . "you're not the only one who is thankful for this day." you told him pulling off your coat as well
."i am...but i hope you have something special planned tonight because you sure as hell deserve the world,"
 hyunjin , smiling widely at you."baby I love you so much and I haven't brought a gift for you yet but I want this to be a memorial night" 
 you smiled softly at him. your eyes were shimmering under the bright lights of the lamp, shining with pure happiness. you never took your eyes off of him."I'm so lucky to call you mine and i want this to be our last night together for the rest of our lives. i don't think i've ever been happier than in this second."
hyunjin  sat up, straddling you as he cupped your face. his thumbs traced over your jawline slowly."i love you so damn much  y/n. there won't ever be a part of me that isn't grateful for everything you've done for me. i wish you'd stayed with me forever and always, even if it meant we'll never grow old"
you kissed  his hand "we have years ahead of us to grow old together. you can hold my hands and tell me that I have the most beautiful eyes." you smiled at him."i promise I'll cherish every precious second i spend with you.  "
hyunjin cupped your  face. your eyes were filled with affection for each other "i don't care if we live for 100 years, even if it means we won't see any sunrise, i wouldn't change a single thing about the day we spent together. i love you y/n "
you slowly opened your zipper and reveal the red lingerie  underneath your clothes that was still wrapped around your waist. you removed the bra and threw it at the edge of the bed and pulled your dress up until your legs were exposed. you grabbed his wrists, pushing them above his head. "you better appreciate this," you said as you unzipped your pants  letting them fall to the floor along with your panties.
"i am." hyunjin  answered in a deep voice while grabbing your waist tightly, lifting you from the ground and tossing you on top of the bed. he pressed himself closer to you and started kissing every inch of exposed skin on your body. hyunjin placed soft kisses on your stomach making you shiver. he kept moving upward until finally, your legs were tangled together.
your breathing came heavier as he caressed your thighs. "you feel so good baby.""you know you can come whenever you want." hyunjin whispered against you. his lips traveled up your stomach as he reached your breasts. "you can be loud as you please, i like to listen to you scream."
"please be gentle it's my first time"  you begged softly, wrapping your arms around his neck as he nuzzled his nose in your cleavage. "don't make me wait anymore" he murmured while biting on one of your nipples you moaned loudly, arching your back slightly as he sucked your hardened nipple into his mouth.
 "hyunjin stop teasing please i beg of you." you pleaded softly as he moved his hand between your legs "just fuck me please-" he groaned.
 his teeth nipping hard on your sensitive spot making you whimper and writhe under his touch. "baby i want to taste you so bad." he murmured. he ran his fingers over your entrance teasingly. "but i need to taste you first." he added, licking his lips as he eyed your clit.
hyunjin's tongue dipped in and licked your wet folds in one fluid movement. he teased you gently before licking his way up to your core and pinching the flesh between his thumb and index finger. he began flicking his middle finger in and out of you, making you moan in pleasure.
 he bit your breast harshly, causing you to cry out loud.  you felt your orgasm starting to build and you gripped onto his shoulders tightly.
Hyunjin continued his torture for a few moments longer before sucking on your clit. you were about to reach the peak of your orgasm when his hand stopped moving. "ahhhh shit!"
 you gasped as pain coursed through your insides making your whole body ache with every passing second of your release.
hyunjin watched you as you tried to catch your breath. he chuckled darkly before he placed small kisses along your belly button. He was now kneeling beside your naked body with his eyes glued to your chest.
 "this feels fucking amazing" he groaned as he rubbed his nose into your stomach. he placed light kiss after kiss to your belly button making your knees wobble and shake.  
hyunjin looked up at your face, his gaze filled with lust. "that is definitely a lot easier for me to say then i thought it would be."
hyunjin pulled you and placed you on his cock . he positioned himself so that he could enter you fully while his hands were firmly placed on your hips, keeping you steady and upright.  your back arched as your ass started bouncing up and down in anticipation of what was coming next.  the friction of your slick wetness against your asshole made him gasp out loud. your movements were quick and fast all at the same time.
"baby...wait for it" you cried out in frustration.
hyunjin nodded "of course" he replied "keep going baby"
"oh god!" you exclaimed in between gasps. your fingernails were digging into hyunjins shoulder blades as he drove deeply into you. he held you by your hips tightly.
 "i love how tight you are for me" hyunjin muttered as he kissed you on the neck.
the pace picked up a little more. hyunjin started to speed up the thrusts of his hips. your toes curled, your nails digging deeper into his skin, your head was thrown back and you were trying not to scream and just focus on staying awake. 
"oh god hyunjin you're killing me baby..." you moaned
as soon as he said that you were on your deathbed. you knew that he could do this but you didn't know how much you would enjoy it or how hard you were gonna climax with this man inside of you.
"god damn hyunjin.."
 you grunted, "you make me crazy...you are killing me" you moaned out loudly as your orgasm ripped through you like an electric shock. 
hyunjin grunted with satisfaction as he too reached his climax, filling you with his cum. "damn...fuck..." 
he panted and leaned on your chest. 
your eyes rolled up  into the back of your head as another wave of euphoria washed over you and you felt yourself falling asleep. your mind was completely blank at that moment as your body went limp. 
"who said we are sleeping" hyunjin groaned and pulled your ass  towards himself, throwing you over his lap.
"what are you doing baby?" you asked confused as he pinned you down by putting one hand on the bed to hold yourself up while the other reached down to your thong, removing the lace underwear.
"i want to be inside you again" he whispered seductively.
your ass in front of him as he came from behind  you making you moan loudly.
"come here"
you crawled forward so your front was right in front of him and his hard erection was resting perfectly on your entrance. you bit down on your bottom lip as hyunjin pushed himself inside you slowly.
he was careful and slow in driving himself inside of you. once he had fully entered you
 you immediately tightened around him.
"fuck! you feel so good." Hyunjin breathed deeply. his left hand moved to your breast and pinched it roughly, sending pleasure radiating throughout your entire body. your muscles tensed up, tightening his shaft even further in you.
"i'm gonna come in you and then i'm gonna push myself back out, okay?"
 he warned. you hummed in reply signaling that you understood.
"you're perfect, y/n. just the way you are" hyunjin groaned as he slid himself  deeper inside of you.
your eyes squeezed shut  as you tried not to scream out loud at the incredible feeling. you clutched onto the sheets desperately.
 "yes yes yes"
Hyunjin increased his pace. you dug your nails into his shoulder, trying to hold yourself in place but it was useless. "I'M COMING Y/N" he roared as his release took control of his body.
a strong wind blew through the room, bringing everything around you crashing to the ground and shattering into pieces.
he was a beast hyunjin was getting faster and faster  eachtime. You could already feel the intense burning sensation on your core and you clenched your fist, gripping your own hair tighter and harder until your fingers turned white. "HYUNJIN"
hyunjin's eyes snapped open and his eyes focused directly on yours. he grinned mischievously. "did you hear it too princess?" he chuckled
 darkly. "did you hear us? does that mean that 
are going to be mine?" he smirked before slamming his face into yours.
he was relentless, taking his sweet time. It seemed like forever since you last felt him inside of you. Your hands roamed up his chest, tracing circles on his bare skin making his head turn slightly.
the moonlight  illuminated the room and your faces contorted in pleasure.
"so beautiful" he groaned as his fingers brushed over your breasts.
"so sexy hyunjin"
he buried his face in between your breasts moaning as he pounded relentlessly into your core. "i missed being inside you like this, i missed the sound of your moans, i missed watching your expression."
you smiled as you snuggled up to him , pressing a kiss to his neck and shoulder. "so did I."
hyunjin smiled "this was the best birthday gift ever" 
you giggled at his words and pulled his ear lobe into your mouth playfully "oh yeah? why is that?"
"because i get to see you looking like a mess and having fun at the same time" he growled lowly, pulling on your nipple making you squeal happily.
"we just had a round!"you chuckled.
"but a birthday boy gets everything he wants"  he replied smugly and you blushed lightly as he tugged your bottom lip between his teeth, nibbling gently on it.
"yeah, well, you know what they say" you smirked playfully.
"a birthday boy will get his pretty doll all fucked up and messed up"he smirked  as he slipped both hands down your thighs. he cupped your cheeks and kissed you, letting go of your lips only to move them down your jawline and across your chest.
after all it was Hwang Hyunjin birthday  and it was the best present he could get.
it was his girlfriend 
she was his gift.
you were his gift .
You were his everything, the one thing that made the world around you a little better, that made the world brighter and you were his everything and there was nothing he wouldn't do to protect you.
"how could someone so beautiful ever have something like that happen to me"
"haha baby boy you deserve the world" you smiled as he brushed his hands against yours.
you intertwined your fingers, interlocking your pinkies together. he brought your left hand up to his lips and planted soft kisses on it. his touch sent shivers throughout your body.
"you are my beautiful princess."  he whispered softly.
you smiled, looking into his eyes. "thank you."
"no problem my queen”
His eyes were close and you were ruffling his hair somewhere his phone was ringing Felix was calling for the dinner party but little did the sunshine knew that hyunjin already has his dinner and the best birthday gift and it was you.
________________________________
The red lingerie and you were the perfect gift.
"On that night of March you gave me your first time
My heart was beating faster that day when I touched you and kissed every inch of your sky that red lingerie still carries your smell and is lying in my closet"
Hwang hyunjin 20.3.24
Y/n You are still there right?
Hey you made me fall in love
I wish I could spend my future birthday with you
I guess our forever was lie.
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destinysbounty · 7 months
Text
Ever since Crystalized came out, there's been this theory circulating that the reason the Overlord somehow managed to manifest crystal power seemingly out of nowhere and with no explanation (at least, none that I can find/remember), is because his fight with Zane affected his power in some way.
The main evidence for this is that:
Zane was the last person to fight the Overlord
Ice is technically a crystalline structure, depending on how it's formed, and Zane is the master of ice
When Harumi was first resurrected, she found the Overlord's spirit imbued into a purple crystal
As evidenced by past seasons, the Overlord's power seems to be influenced by his circumstances and environment in the wake of his last defeat. During Rebooted, a tech center was built over his resting place, and he ended up taking on the abilities and limitations of a computer virus. And in this case, the theory suggests that the Overlord's power was then influenced again by all the ice surrounding him as Zane destroyed both of their physical forms.
This does, to some extent, seem to fall in line with everything else we know about the Overlord. The Overlord is a being of shadow and darkness, and the shape of a shadow will always be influenced by the light around it. (And if we want to get into the theory that the Overlord was created as a result of the FSM trying to purge the oni blood from his veins, then you could even bring up the fact that the oni are shapeshifters sooo).
Now, I'll be the first to admit that this theory is ultimately pretty circumstantial, and there's nothing in canon to point to it being explicitly true. BUT, the cool thing about this theory is that it does also retroactively solve another big fandom mystery: that is, it explains how Zane survived his fight with the Overlord.
Let me explain.
When Zane came back to life after his fight with the Digital Overlord, while it was never outright explained how he did so, it was implied that he came back the same way the Overlord had: by spiritually manifesting within the systems at Borg Tower - specifically, the Digiverse. But that doesn't really answer the question, does it?
Like, the Overlord coming back as a spiritual manifestation makes sense. He's a regenerative being, an immortal abstraction of all the evil in the world. And Zane, as far as we know, is very much not that. So what could have happened to cause Zane, a nindroid, to end up being resurrected in the same way as the god of darkness? Why did he come back to life, instead of passing onto the afterlife? Even Lloyd, the special-est boy in all Ninjago, made a quick visit to the Departed Realm and only came back because the FSM said he could.
And true, it's certainly possible that Zane had a similar encounter with the FSM. Or that his power source is responsible for his resurrection, and just as we may never know how his power source works he may also never know how it brought him back to life. Those are all very possible solutions, and you're welcome to just accept those ideas and move one.
But if you're like me and you don't find those answers particularly satisfying, here's another possibility:
Just as Zane's power has influenced the Overlord, the Overlord's power has influenced Zane. In the explosion of Golden Power that caused both of them to be destroyed in unison, their souls became intertwined. So yes, Zane was meant to die. And judging by his account of the situation in Decoded, he did die. And maybe a peaceful afterlife was well within arm's reach, maybe he was just about to grab the FSM's hand...but then something pulled him back. His soul, chained to the Overlord's dark power, dragged him to the land of the living once more.
And if you really want to get into it, then you could even theorize that this connection ended up influencing Zane's power as well. During the Ice Chapter he was capable of turning people into ice samurai zombie-things kept under his control, as well as creating ice constructs like Boreal. These are not abilities that have been established in the ice power-set, nor are they logical powers for an ice elemental to have. Now correct me if I'm wrong, but the Forbidden Scroll doesn't give you new powers, it just enhances and turbo-boosts what you already have. Which is why it did nothing when Kai held it, as his power had been stolen from him at the time.
(Now before you ask why Pixal could use the Scroll despite seeminlgy not having any powers, there are very subtle implications that she had developed a very, very minor sixth sense due to her inheriting some of Zane's power. If anyone wants me to explain that in greater detail, I'd be more than happy to.)
And yes, Aspheera is also capable of creating elemental zombie/mummy things and other such constructs, but she did all that before she found the Scroll. This is a power-set she had by virtue of her being a powerful sorcerer, not something granted by wielding the Scroll.
And yet somehow, the Scroll did seem to give Zane these powers. Powers that so far have only been exhibited by two people in the series: Aspheera, and the Overlord. So if we submit to the theory that Zane and the Overlord's fight have caused their powers to mix a little, and the Scroll magnifies your power....well, it suddenly becomes very possible that the Scroll amplified some of the dark energy he inherited from the Overlord and awakened some of the Ice Emperor's more unique abilities.
And if that's true, then that really just kinda makes the whole Ice Emperor sting that much more. All of the good things Zane has done, all of his biggest sacrifices, all led to this moment. To him becoming the Ice Emperor.
I dunno. It's just something to think about.
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signedkoko · 2 months
Note
Ello there Koko! Welcome back! 💙 I'd like to request Sir Pentious with a reader who's basically his little evil henchman/sidekick. I don't see much writing for the bastard but I honestly love him so I'd love to see more! It could be platonic or romantic, either way is good!
Anything At All [Platonic]
In which you are Pentious' assistant, and hes been requested to help the V's. Genderneutral Reader.
Song - The Party Line by Belle and Sebastian
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Everyone could use an assistant, especially the overlords of hell, because they had all kinds of important things to do. Menial tasks requiring trust should be left to someone who can act as the right-hand man. Or at least, that was what Pentious always told himself.
None of the other overlords really had a sidekick, assistant, or whatever you choose to call them; they were all servants.
Loyalty was the first thing you had to achieve when finding an assistant, but who could ever be loyal? Everyone down here had something they'd give it all up for. Thus, Pentious was constantly ridiculed for choosing to trust someone who could easily overthrow him given the right opportunity.
What they didn't consider was that you'd give up everything and anything for him, but they didn't need to know that.
Most of what you did was surveillance. While Pentious much preferred to bury himself in strange inventions with grandiose ideals, you handled all the real work that might actually get him the title he so desired. While he trampled on his own reputation, you fixed it and elevated your own.
Pentious was known, but mostly because it was next to yours. Even so, you hated the spotlight because it took it away from him. Pentious was like a mascot; he was perfect at being in the public eye and had the confidence of a lion, except without claws or teeth. It was all so unlike you, so you would rather support him.
Besides, it was at least a little amusing to watch your friend go all out, despite not having all that much to back him up. He was always especially hostile to Alastor, to the point where you knew not to be anywhere near him since it always ended so badly.
It was another cleanup day, and after being totaled by the radio demon, Pentious was as antsy as ever to restore his ship to its prior glory.
" Pentious? Do you ever think about moving on from him? " You'd always make sure to ask after their scuffles, hoping the answer would change.
" Of courssse not! That would be admitting defeat! " 
You sighed, a small laugh hidden in the veiled disappointment. It was still nice to see that he was so optimistic.
Pentious is extremely smart when it comes to weapons, engineering, and the sciences—he was anything and everything but street smart.
You'd prepared a meal for the two of you to share, asking questions that would help you navigate the next plan, and so you had an idea of what you'd need to round up. You loved hearing his next idea—what the new gun would be, how he figured he could defeat one of the strongest overlords of hell, and so on.
Unfortunately, your lunch was interrupted by your phone ringing, which you pulled up to see—the very face of technology himself. Before you could answer, the call started anyway.
" Tch. "
" Heyyy this is Sir whateveryoucallhim's assistant, right? Yeah, nice to meet you. Listen. I have to talk to Pentious. " You couldn't even get a word in before Pentious lept forward, stealing your phone from you and pushing you away.
" Its finally happening! Wait outside!! " Pentious urged you to the door, though the moment you were out, you pressed your ear to the door, trying to catch the conversation.
" Yess of course! It was a sssplendid idea speaking to the likes of I! I'll be on it straight away! " You figured the call ended because there was no more speaking.
When he opened the door, you almost fell forward, catching yourself so as not to make it seem like you'd been trying to listen in. Not like it mattered, because in a moment, Pentious was sharing every detail of the conversation with the excitement of a kid who got unlimited candy.
" Infiltrating the Hazbin Hotel? I don't know... It sounds like he just wants you to do his dirty work. Besides, doesn't Alastor work there? Won't he kick you out or catch on? " 
" Come now; we cannot wassste any time! " He hadn't listened to a word you said; he was already on his way to set course for the hotel.
As worried as you were, maybe the hotel would be kind to Pentious. If all went to hell, you could only hope the princess would have mercy on him.
At the very least, you urged him to wait a day so you could prepare to come along with him and suggested he leave his technology on the ship so as not to alert anyone in the hotel that he may be hostile.
While most may not recognize you, Alastor certainly would, so you were sure to leave any and all weapons back at home. Just in case, right?
While you dressed more cleanly in softer and more welcoming clothes, Pentious didn't change a thing despite your protests. He waltzed right up to the door with no care and was immediately greeted by the princess's significant other shoving a spear in his face.
Stepping forward, you caught the edge of her spear and moved it up, just barely missing Pentious's face. You smiled in warning.
" Sorry for him; he is just so excited to stay at your hotel. As am I. " You looked down at Pentious, signaling for him to get up.
Thankfully, Charlie was quick to grab him and drag him on in, which you followed behind, nervously shuffling past the girl who'd just tried to kill Pentious.
Unfortunately, another wall blocked you, as the one and only pornstar Angeldust was quick to shove the wannabe overlord out the door and into you. 
" Wait wait wait, are we really letting the guy who tried to kill us six hours ago in? And who the fuck are you? " The spider was extremely tall and still managed to tower over Pentious by a fraction.
You opted to stay silent, amused at how Pentious managed to pull himself through this one. Even so, the team did seem interested in your appearance; they'd never seen Pentious with anyone before.
For a moment, Charlie turned to look at Vaggie, and seconds later, the woman seemed to slouch in defeat.
" Whatever, not like hes harmless with or without the way machine. " Pentious pouted at her words, and you chuckled.
" Ooooh yes, yes, yes! Thank you so much! Right this way, you two, it is so exciting to have our first official guests!! " She seemed a lot more focused on Pentious as she pulled him through the corridors, showing off every aspect of the hotel. In a way, she reminded you a lot of Pentious.
You could already tell Pentious was going to be easily distracted from his mission, though before you could remind him, a stark static filled the air.
" Oh! Alastor! Our property manager: You've met our newest guests, Sir Pentious, and-- " 
" Ah yes! Hell's best underground assistant, it is such a pleasure. " Alastor took your hand into both of his, shaking it with a tilted glance." Oh! And the one who ruined my coat! I definitely remember you now. "
Still flabbergasted by the radio demons approach to you, you were frozen in place, Pentious anxiously shifting when Alastor's tone shifted between the two of you.
"Best assistant? You flatter me. " You tried to take the attention back, looking to the princess for some kind of relief.
" This seems like a, uhm- perfect opportunity for a lesson on apologizing! "
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Author's Note - This is a fic exchange with @sillypenguincats ! You can read their Alastor x Reader here. Thank you for requesting, working with me, and being so kind 🖤
Word Count - 1,243
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myymi · 3 months
Text
i want to talk about the paradox prism for a minute because it's really interesting to me
[everything below is purely speculation / headcanon - please don't mistake it for canon. beware of spoilers for sonic prime part 3]
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similar to the master/chaos emeralds, the paradox prism has a level a sentience. not anywhere close to the same level as the emeralds, but there's still something there
the chaos emeralds tend to set up a line of dominos to cause a future event (ex; sonic taking tails under his wing and learning to become more responsible from it)
the paradox prism doesn't do anything close to that, but it does share something with the master emerald; it holds memories
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the prism was able to create more versions of the people it saw based on the emotions it saw them project (tails, knuckles, amy, rouge, and eggman)
the different shards / shatterspaces are made up from other major events. whether from this timeline or another is different for each shatterspace
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new yoke was created from the group's frustration with sonic + an ending where eggman's almost won (i believe this could be pulled from the events of forces, considering the enforcers)
i think the reason new yoke is the only shatterspace to have a version of eggman is because it's the only one that makes sense to have one
it's pretty well known by now that eggman will need a helping hand if he wants any chance at taking over the world
the only thing better than an evil genius is five evil geniuses, right?
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the new yoke group are, as i said, everyone's frustration
nine is frustrated with his past. reminiscing about his tormentors brings him more anger than pain, and living in solitude definitely does not help
rebel and knux are frustrated by the loss of their home (and the egg council in general). having watched their home be destroyed was more heartbreaking than anything at first, it eventually grew to an anger that spurred them on to fix it
rusty is frustrated with those who disobey/fight against the council, but her anger eventually ends up directed towards the council for the way they used her.
i could go more in depth about the new yoke group, but this post is gonna be long enough as is wefoefwof
the shard being red could simply be because that's the color that represents anger, but i'd like to think that-going back to forces-it was a bit influenced by the phantom ruby/infinite as well
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no place is formed by the underlying sadness + a devastating event that permanently changed the world (chaos' rampage)
im not connecting no place to chaos because of the fact it's flooded, im connecting it because of the way the stories parallelled
chaos' rampage begun when pachacamac attempted to steal and harness the power of the chaos emeralds for his own gain
dread seeks out the 'devil's ligthouse' solely to prove he is a legend, nearly killing his original crew trying to do so
both protagonists of these stories are selfish and caused destruction for their own gain
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dread's, well, dread comes from his failure of proving himself to be the most feared pirate to ever live.
him failing to collect the shard caused him to believe that he truly wasn't a good pirate, leaving him to spiral into a life of cowardice.
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the rest of the pirates' dread comes from their longing to be actual pirates.
because of his failure and cowardice, dread now leads a peaceful crew. they don't do any 'pirating', which leaves much to be desired
they enjoy the parties and all, but their true fun comes from being pirates, which dread deprives them of
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boscage maze comes from the protectiveness surging between everyone + a world where harmony between enemies is possible to achieve (possibly comes from a timeline where eggman simply doesnt exist, leaving mobius to grow peacefully)
boscage is the shatterspace with the most life. it's full of all kinds of plants because nobody there is destroying it (intentionally, anyways)
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thorn rose is protective over birdie and the green. she does what she can to protect both, even if it means hurting people she once called friends
keeping the jungle and birdie safe is her #1 priority, and nothing will ever change that (that's not to say something else can't join them in being her priority)
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the scavengers are protective over their belongings and, no matter how strangely they show it, each other
gnarly was nervous when sonic touched his house, immediately turning aggressive to make sure he wouldn't damage it
instead of hiding the berry, prim showed it to the others for a chance they could all share it
instead of running off on his own, mangey let the scavengers follow him as he sniffed out the berry (+ him fetching the one that fell off the treetops, showing it off to the group)
hangry allows mangey to crawl around him, which we can assume means it happens a lot off screen as well
they stick together and cover each other's backs, no matter how hard the fight gets
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while we don't know what this shatterspace was before it turned into the grim, it's pretty safe to assume that it was apocalyptic
who or whatever used to live here is long gone. the only thing standing are the purple crystal things.
my guess is it's a timeline where eggman won. he won, and the world died out because he ruined the ecosystem from building so many machines.
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while purple is usually associated with royalty or mystery, it's also associated with power, ambition, peace, and independence
whatever happened to the world before the grim, it's very probable that it was out of high ambition with a need for more power. eventually, the world found its peace and is now independent
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ghost hill is the blueprint. the time before sonic & co. make their mark on the world. a blank canvas.
maybe a timeline where they don't get a chance to make their mark on the world
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yellow is a very light, energetic color. the feeling of happiness at the chance to create something new and fun.
ghost hill and the grim don't have much in terms of characters and design, but i think the colors of their respective shards give us plenty of information about them
the paradox prism is nothing like the chaos emeralds, but is also just like them at the same time. it's powered by pure chaos with no sort of indication on how it was created or why it has the powers it does
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i wonder if eggman knew what the prism was exactly or if he only knew that it was powerful
did he know breaking it would cause the world to shatter? did he know how may memories it holds? how many lifetimes it's lived?
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i also wonder if the prism knew sonic would shatter it, and that it was already preparing the shatterspaces; hence why it glows brighter
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maybe it understood that sonic is a hands-on learner. maybe it knew he needed to experience the lessons first hand, needed them to-quite literally-slap him in the face
maybe it knew they all had their own flaws that they needed to be aware of. maybe it lived through the timeline where sonic never shattered the prism.
maybe the prism planned to be shattered by someone so it could share its memories. maybe there was some sort of pull that told sonic it needed to be shattered.
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n-slayaaaaa · 1 year
Text
SHATTERED MEMORIES
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Summary: Revenge comes to collect as the Ghostface Killers are revealed and you'll do anything in your power to stop running from monsters.
Warnings: cursing, mentions of trauma, heavy violence, blood and gore, third act shrine scene is not 100% accurate but goes with the natural flow of the story
Pairings: Sam Carpenter x Reader, Tara Carpenter x Reader, Chad Meeks-Martin x reader, Mindy Meeks-Martin x Reader, Core Four x Reader
Taglist: @r-ude @fanboyluvr @kaiparkerwife @brinleighsstuff @bennzzo @vheavxly @ethanlvndry @lillunna @babybabygrogu @namesduntmatter @frasersgf @gojosbucket
Part 1
**
There was a sharp ringing in your ears.
Your chest rising and falling at a quickened pace, breath fleeting from your lungs and not enough returning.
You could tell that the people in front of you were speaking. Their lips moving but being drowned out by the muffled audio in your ears. You felt like you were underwater, a feeling that was not foreign to you because these attacks were so frequent.
Your body was in a state of panic. Beginning to shut itself down as Ghostface masks dropped to the floor and evil smirks were thrown your way. It was the same pattern every time, somebody wanted to kill you and your friends for fame or revenge and you ended the night with stab wounds and more trauma than the year before.
You weren't new to this by any means and after three encounters with Ghostface killers ... you began to get fucking bored.
Before you could stop yourself, your shoulders began to rock as a hearty laugh erupted from your belly.
Your best friend, Chad, was laying in the theatre lobby bleeding out from multiple stab injuries. Gale was in the hospital, inches from death, because she decided to answer a call with the killer. Mindy was missing, Kirby was gone, and yet here you were. Standing in front of a kooky family of three who were determined to have you buried six feet under.
What are the fucking odds that this was happening to you again.
The first two run-in's you've had, you were a kid. Too sensitive to the world and the monsters that ran it—that took things from you. To be this young you have lost so much and continue to lose as each minute ticks by.
Each minute that you don't fight back.
Ghostface was trying you for the third time and unluckily for them ... the third time's the charm.
You clutched your chest, getting some air into your lungs after your apparent mental breakdown. Sam and Tara gave you a cautious side eye, trying to figure out how you could be amused in a time like this. After everything that had just happened.
"I can't believe this is who wants to kill me." You shook your head, a smile painted on your lips. "A deadbeat dad who buys his kids love, a tinder enthusiast, and a sweet and innocent boy who turns out to be evil." Your smile dropped, eyes sharpening and narrowing at the family. "I've seen this movie before, a couple times actually."
Ethan cocked his head to the side, rolling his eyes while he pointed his knife at you. "You would know." He retorted. "You're Jill's little sister, how would you have done it?" He stepped closer towards you in his black boots.
Tara moved in front of you, brick cocked back and ready to strike. "Don't take another step." She demanded.
"It was when I saw the photos of what Sam had done, that I knew she had to pay!" Detective Bailey shouted, pointing at the oldest Carpenter as she switched into killer instincts.
Quinn held a knife to her throat, begging her, daring her to take a step out of line so she could slice her open. "That's it .. that's the killer."
Ethan's eyes lingered on you, a sickening grin on his lips. "Don't you want all of this to end, Y/N?" He asked softly, ignoring Tara's protective stance over you. "The plan never was to kill you...only scare you a little."
"Then what do you want from me?!" You snarled in his direction, stepping forward against Tara and Sam's wishes.
Quinn smiled. "To join us. Live up to your destiny and become the killer you're designed to be."
"Think about it." Ethan spoke. "Woodsboro Survivor escapes the massacre of 2011, 2022, and now this year it's all about you. Your name in lights, headlines, fame and fortune." His brown eyes grew soft, trying to convince you this is what you wanted. "With Sam and Tara gone, Gale basically dead, and God Sidney is probably on her way to Switzerland right now ... you'd be the last legacy character standing."
Your sanity snapped. A character, that is who you were to these people. You hadn't been a real person in over ten years, you were a news story, a charity case, and now a legacy character. You gently moved Tara out of your way.
"Y/N..." She said. Shooting a look at Sam to do something, but, the knife held against her skin was preventative.
You waved her off. "Leave me alone, Tara!" Your converse found themselves mere inches from Ethan's boots. His eyes lighting up with each step you took.
He had gotten to you, broken you enough that you would join his family in avenging his brothers death.
"Ethan?" You said sweetly. He tilted his head into you, listening intently to what you were going to say. "I grew up in the spotlight. I hate cameras."
You popped his nose with your elbow, hearing the satisfying crunch of it breaking. He groaned in pain, covering his now bleeding face. You took off in a sprint while he was distracted, Sam and Tara following suit. They bolted for the balcony stairs, Detective Bailey and Quinn taking the back route to beat them.
Sam climbed the ladder first, Tara right behind her. You watched carefully as Ethan laid on the floor, hollering in anger as he built the strength to get back up.
"Come on!" Tara said, rushing you to climb faster. She made it to the balcony, leaning over with her hand out to help you up. You grabbed the next step, pulling yourself up before a burning sensation flared up your back. "Fuck!"
You gasped. Blood flowing down your back from the knife Ethan dug into your skin. "You can't escape fate!" He shouted, laughing at your pain. Tara did her best to get to you, to help you get to safety but the shock of being stabbed was too much to push through. With shaky hands you let go of the ladder, falling to the floor with a thud, the wind being knocked out of your lungs.
Ethan towered over you. "There's no coming back this time, Y/N." He plunged the knife into your side, reopening old wounds and scar tissue.
Your mouth opened to scream but nothing came out. Hearing Sam and Tara cry over your body made your stomach turn. In the midst of their own battles they still found time to care for you. Now, all you'd be is another person they lost.
A shattered memory of Ghostface winning.
As much as you wanted to give up, you couldn't. You didn't want to be the reason Sidney came back, the next call she would receive detailing your death. You couldn't do that to her ... to any of your friends and family. Out of breath, you shoved your hand over your knife wound in effort to stop the bleeding. Forcing yourself to stand up and fight back.
That sharp ringing returned to your ears.
You didn't hear the gun shots ring out or Quinn's body drop to the floor. Tara was wrapped up in shoving a knife in Ethan's mouth to notice that you had limped to the main stage. One thing calling to you, telling you to take matters into your own hands.
"Good choice, little sis."
Her voice came to you. It wasn't the first time, but, it was the first time in years that you listened. You read the plaque at the bottom of her mannequin and didn't feel anything. No sadness, no anger, you were completely numb. Numb enough to follow in her footsteps.
You snatched the robe with your freehand, knocking over the mannequin and sending it to the ground with a loud crash. Peeling your blood covered hand from your wound, you shoved an arm through the robe and followed with the other. Covering your body in the thick black material that your sister once wore.
The fans always said you would do this. You would take on the mantle of Ghostface and finish what she started.
Some rumors are based in a form of truth.
"Y/N?" Tara asked. Her soft voice emerging from the main stage steps, a cautious arm out to try and reason with you. "Why do you--"
"I'm finishing what Jill started." You hissed in pain. Looking over her head, you saw Sam coming through the displays of evidence. Determination and frustration written on her face as she joined you at the peak of the shrine. Darting for her father's robe that was in pristine condition within its glass covering. "And I'm not the only one."
You had to turn your mind off for what you were about to do. That's how you knew you still had a soul. That Jill, Richie, or even Amber hadn't stolen that from you. This kill would be satisfactory in the fact that it would be over. That you'd be able to protect yourself once and for all against the demons that haunted you.
You took Ethan's discarded mask, the one belonging to Nancy Loomis, and put it over your head. Stalking over to Detective Bailey's unconscious body, you wondered if this is what it felt like for Jill when she committed those murders. If the mask gave her some kind of thrill in being anonymous so she could later present herself as a victim and claim fame.
Staring at the man who ordered your death, you tilted your head, watching his chest still rise and fall. What a privilege it was for him to be alive right now.
The brain has a powerful way of protecting you from yourself. You don't remember killing Wayne Bailey. How you and Sam stabbed him repeatedly because he fucked with your family. That memory was locked away in the deepest parts of your brain--like that night at Jill's house in 2011 or even when Amber Freeman stabbed you in the legs last year. You knew it happened but small flickers of those moments would come and go, never a fluid memory.
Your brain allowed for you regain focus as you sat on ambulance steps. Your white tee was now stained red, blood splatters sticking to your skin and your hair. The wounds in your back and side had been treated and bandaged, you were free to go, but yet you sat there. Staring off into space as you came back to reality.
A hand came into view, Sam and Tara's presence making itself known. "Come on, Y/N." She said. "We're gonna go check on Chad, he's gonna make it." You took Sam's hand quietly. Nodding to yourself as you got up, pain firing down your back from your injury. Tara grabbed your arm gently, laying her head on your bloodied arm and sighing.
"You gonna be okay?" She asked.
You looked at her for a brief moment. "Yeah. Yeah, I'll be okay this time."
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weepylucifer · 5 months
Text
Disco Elysium if it was a Hollywood Blockbuster
(inspired by the trailer by @brainrotdotorg)
Harry has to have a glowup arc where he regains his faith in his job and ability to be a good cop. The police isn't criticized here apart from maybe some handwaves at "a few bad apples" rhetoric. In the climactic moment, the phasmid appears and tells him it is his duty and his destiny... to reform the RCM
Because we don't have time for a nuanced take on addiction in this 90-minute movie, the narrative just turns on a dime halfway through to portraying Harry's alcoholism as rugged and badass instead of pathetic, or he suddenly stops drinking when he gets his groove back, with no withdrawal effects shown. The whole thing about speed helping him be better at his job doesn't factor in; Harry drinks and does drugs because he's sad about Dora and there's nothing more to it. All he needed was to buck up and focus on being the best cop in all of Revachol
Klaasje is portrayed as a one-dimensional scheming femme fatale. Her backstory doesn't really come up. She's dumbed down so that Harry can triumph over her, and is also genuinely attracted to him for some reason, "I am Sherlocked" style
Ruby is either cut entirely, or she's genuinely a predatory lesbian and that's it. If the latter, she shoots herself in the head in front of Harry and Kim and they make a MCU-style "Well that happened" quip about it
No political quests! We don't have time for that. Actually, both communism and fascism are only mentioned once in a backstory dump as stuff that happened in a bygone era. If anything, the film ends up really riding for moralism by complete accident
The film makers don't really know what to do with Kim, so he gets reduced to a guy that stands around and delivers snarky one-liners
The Hardie Boys are in one short interrogation scene, not quite enough to make casual moviegoers care when half of them are gunned down
Fan-favorite characters such as Cindy, Cuno or the Speedfreaks can be seen once in the background of a group scene, but have no lines (you KNOW hollywood couldn't handle the Cuno). It's announced on the director's insta as "a little easter egg for eagle-eyed fans"
Joyce has a way more active role, but also her character turns into an utterly flat "milf girlboss" type who gives Harry and Kim direct instructions on what to do, Madame Director style. The movie writers pat themselves on the backs for being more progressive and feminist than the source material. Also she has nothing to do with the mercs, they just sort of... appeared. Don't think about it too hard! It's stressed repeatedly that they're "rogue agents" and it's really nobody's fault that they're there
Evrart is a corrupt mob boss and that's it. He will be played by a skinny actor in a fatsuit. He also doesn't help find Harry's gun, Joyce has someone retrieve it offscreen so she can gravely and meaningfully hand it to him just in time for the mercenary tribunal
The Deserter just kinda being a shitty sad old man would be too anticlimactic for our summer blockbuster, so he is rewritten to be some kind of evil mastermind. Maybe he even directly communicates with Klaasje and tells her what to do, again "I am Sherlocked" style
The tribunal absolutely does end with RCM backup triumphantly arriving to save the day, led by Jean who underwent a mini-arc offscreen about putting his differences with Harry aside because at the end of the day, they're both cops, and goddamn it, cops help each other. He dramatically takes the wig off and chucks it on the ground to signal his character growth, and everything
No homo-sexual underground thought. The Smoker on the Balcony is allowed to show up in one scene, where he flirtily waves at Kim and Harry. Kim nods at him. Disney's first gay character--
There's a moment where Kim talks to Jean, expressing doubt about Harry. Cut to Harry doing something goofy across the room from them. Jean briefly glances at it, shakes his head, turns back to Kim and says gruffly: "He's a loose cannon... but he gets the job done." This is supposed to be a good thing
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reve-writes · 10 months
Text
—the 1; leon kennedy.
ʚ leon kennedy x reader | resident evil | 2k words. ʚ based on taylor swift's the 1. | you've requested for backup on a mission. the backup happens to be your ex-boyfriend, agent leon kennedy, whom you're not really over. ʚ exes-to-lovers (kind of); fluff; some injuries because it's re; profanity. ʚ a/n this fic came to be because i'mmissing my ukulele and the 1 was one of the first songs i learned on it. you can tell i suck at ending my fics nasjkgnajgnwr
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You have requested for backup.
All of this zombie-slaying, information-hunting activity is usually not a walk in the park, but this mission is harsher than usual, taking everything out of you and then some. You fear that you may be flying home in a zipped-up plastic bag or worse, no homecoming at all. Lost in some city, a couple hours of chopper ride away from your cozy apartment—a terrible way to go.
Hunnigan's screen-lit face appears on your handheld device. You can hear the clack clack clack of a keyboard as she types away.
“Okay, you're not going to like this.” Her voice sounds through your in-ear.
“I don't like a lot of things.”
“He's the only agent available in the area,” she says slowly, as if she's weaving her way through a broken glass path. “I know your... history, but he's the only one who can help at the moment.”
“Okay, I take it back,” you protest. “I'll be fine without backup, Hunnigan. Don't—”
“Good luck.”
Her line goes down and you're left staring at an empty screen. Cursing under your breath, you're already attempting to connect back into the line, only to be answered by the constant tut tut of an answered call.
You're hunkering down inside an abandoned supermarket. Most of the townspeople are too bloodthirsty to care for a pack of Snickers and a can of Sprite. You're sitting on the ground, back leaning against the check-out counter. Faint moonlight trickles through the glass door as you sit in silent, pondering.
Is he really coming?
You are mature enough to handle the break up and the painstaking move out process (although you still have a jacket left at his place that you're too reluctant to grab). You don't think you can handle a whole mission with him, despite it having been over four months since the fateful 'it's over.'
You aren't mature enough to see him—afraid that it will have you reconsidering if walking out was a good idea (as much as you wanted to stay when he pulled the plug). Besides, he is tangled up with a past lover-turned-enemy and world-ending catastrophe. You're also busy with your own missions and your fair share of bioweapon disasters. Schedules clash, this was inevitable.
Fifteen minutes passed before you even attempt to contact Hunnigan once more. Her pixelated face reappears as usual.
“His ETA?” You finally ask. Beggars can't be choosers, and right now you're practically on your knees, pleading.
“Ten minutes,” she replies. “Stay put. He's been directed there.”
“Great,” you grumble. “Can't wait.”
Hunnigan sighs. “Keep me updated.”
With a click, the line is disconnected and you're left on your lonesome once again. Not for long, you assume, since apparently your former lover, Agent Kennedy is joining you soon.
God, what do you even say to him?
“Hey.”
“Jesus!” He jumps, not expecting you to be so close to the entrance door. “Hey.”
He stares at you, his flashlight blinding your eyes as he shines it in your direction. You use your hand to block some of the lights, still sitting with one of your knees bent, back pressed against the cashier counter.
He hasn't changed much since the last time you saw him. Same broad shoulders. Same dirty blond mop of hair with bangs that get into his eyes every so often. You once took the opportunity to tie his bangs up into a miniature ponytail that stuck up like a sprout on his head. He's also wearing the black leather jacket you helped him pick out. Too many memories, threads of your life too tangled to pull apart.
“Nice trip?” You want to recoil into yourself as you make small talk. It feels strange—you know him too well for this idle chat. At least, you used to. He switches off his flashlight, moving to investigate the supermarket you're sheltered in.
Leon's expression doesn't betray any emotion. Just the furrowed set of his eyebrow and thin line formed by his lips. You wonder if he has thought about you as much as you have him in the past few months.
“Yeah. Like going on a vacation,” he replies, pressing a button on the cash register which ejects the cash drawer. A loud ding sounds and somewhere outside a loud growl answers. “We should find somewhere safer. Let's rest up and make our move in the morning.”
“The managerial office is in the back,” you suggest. “Should be safe enough.”
It is safe but also somewhat cramped for two adults. A square room with one small window, a desk paired with a chair and a couch that takes up most of the space. Leon locks the door behind you as you settle on the carpeted floor, leaning back on the couch. You're so tired, having run around the infected city chasing tips that go up in smoke the closer you think you're getting.
“You okay?” Leon asks, coming to sit cross-legged across from you. Your ankle almost grazes his knees as he leans back on the wall. What a small room.
“Why wouldn't I be?”
“You did ask for backup.”
Sighing, you withdraw one of your legs, unzipping your boots and twisting your ankles, hissing when you feel a sharp pain. “I fucked up my leg running. Also got some minor cuts. I wanted backup in case I couldn't walk tomorrow.”
Leon's gloved hand is already reaching for your bruised ankle, but he stops before skin contacts skin. “Can I?”
“You don't have to. It's not as bad as it looks.”
“I know what a sprained ankle looks like,” he mutters. “Wait here.”
With that, he's gone and you let out a huge sigh of relief. You don't even realise how much his presence has compressed the air in your lungs until the moment he leaves. You should've just sucked it up and gone solo as you were supposed to. Does he share the same sentiment? Is he wishing that he is somewhere kicking his feet up and having tropical drinks instead of a dingy, abandoned supermarket with you?
Before you can dwell too long, the door reopens and Leon slips inside with an armful of knick-knacks. Bandages, snacks, bottled water and a half-melted ice pack. He spills them onto the floor and sits closer to you, bright blues staring at the swelling near your heel.
“Let me help,” he says.
Stubbornly, you shake your head. “I can do it myself.”
He calls your name for the first time in months and your heart feels like it's been jump-started to life—obnoxiously beating inside your ribcage.
“Yeah. Fine. Whatever,” you splutter. Gloved hands move to massage your foot, twisting your ankle so heartlessly you're hissing and hitting the floor with your fist. “Leon, what the fuck?”
“It will feel better,” he reassures and you hate when his reassurance works. His voice so suggestive it practically hypnotises you. You hope, for your sake, he never finds out the effect he has on you. In an attempt for distraction, he asks, “How have you been?”
“Excellent,” you hiss out. “Caught up with work, but I've been good. What about you?”
You half-wish that he hasn't been good, perhaps he drinks a little too much on some nights to forget you. You know you've been drinking a lot more since he left.
His eyes occasionally dart from your leg to your face as he continues rolling your ankle. “That's... good. I've been good, too.”
“I've been picking up new hobbies, too,” you continue. “Tried Wushu. I may return for more lessons after this.”
You don't tell him that on the first class you attended, there was a blue-eyed, blond-haired man who looked so much like him. You accidentally called the man Leon—which led to an awkward conversation you don't care to recall. You also don't tell him that you see glimpses of him in your peripherals as you go about your day.
“We planned to sign up together, but never got around to,” he muses.
That sentence encapsulates how your relationship went in the last couple of months before it ended. Spoken plans with no execution. Promises left hanging. Apologetic voicemails. Cancelled reservations.
Yet, despite it all, you and him were something great. You were mission partners-turned-friends-turned-lovers. You worked together so well, your chemistry was off the charts. Sometimes he knew what you were going to do before you did. It's ironic that the missions that brought you together is also the one that drove you apart.
“We should have.”
If you're a better person, you would have left well enough alone and ceased following the trail going down the reminiscence rabbit hole.
However, you are not.
He hums—a nonscandalous response that doesn't lead you further towards or away from the hungry monster that is nostalgia. His hands stop their ministrations, finally leaving your ankle alone and then grabs a roll of elastic bandage and starts wrapping them around the swelling.
“Heard you went on a date with... Angela, wasn't it?” You are poking a sleeping bear with a stick.
“Wasn't a date,” he clarifies—he knows doesn't have to, but there's a nagging feeling that won't leave you with the misunderstanding. “We're old friends.”
“Do you think we can still—” You swallow. One last chance to stop running your mouth, but you don't take the opportunity, carrying on foolishly, like an insect falling into a pitcher plant. “—sign up for the classes together?”
You just can't let what died rest in peace, just have to pull out your shovel to dig and poke at the dried earth. He doesn't realise but he pulls a little too hard on the bandage and you're swatting his arm, hissing.
“You're cutting off my circulation,” you protest.
“Sorry,” Leon sighs, undoing the bandage before rewrapping your ankle with a clean one. There's a deep set of frown on his face. It prompts you to immediately apologise.
“I shouldn't have asked,” you say. “I'm sorry.”
“Don't apologise.” He delicately secures the bandage and presses the melting ice pack onto your wrapped ankle.
You have one leg bent while the sprained one lies limp on the floor. You press your chin on your knee. “Thanks.”
“You should be able to walk it off in the morning,” says Leon. “You can have the couch. Get some rest. I'll keep watch.”
You express your gratitude once again as you pull yourself up, not moving your ice-compressed ankle too much as you sink into the soft cushions. “Good night, Leon.”
Leon pulls the chair out from behind the desk and sets it down next to the couch. He thinks you're asleep, but you suddenly call out to him and as much as he wants to pretend he doesn't hear you, he can't.
“Rest,” he orders.
“Do you think if—”
“Let's drop the what ifs,” he stubbornly interrupts.
However, you're just as stubborn as he is. Why else were you such a fitting pair? “I really thought you were it, you know, the one.”
Leon remembers walking out of his apartment after dropping the all-ending line. An argument over something not-so significant, but past small events kept being dogpiled on top of one another until it turned into you raising your voice and him being defensive. Each step out of the living room felt like shedding a part of himself. The empty drawers you left still remain unfilled to this day. He only sleeps on his side of the bed, even though yours has been cold for months.
“Get some rest.”
It's too late. The flood gate has been opened and everything is spilling over. You're too thick-skulled to quit now, choosing to drown if you have to.
“If I hadn't taken the job, would it be different?”
Leon stares at you, lips parting slightly, brow furrowed in confusion.
“It wasn't—”
“Don't give me that,” you interrupt. Your voice turns mocking. “It wasn't you, it was me. Yeah, right.”
“Why'd you think it was you?”
“I think it was both of us. I was just wondering if we could've done something.”
He lets himself be pulled under, too. A flood of repressed emotions he drowned by scraping the bottom of liquor suddenly comes up for air and he's already asking you, “Is it too late now?”
You move to sit up on the couch, facing him. “You tell me. What do you think, Leon?”
“I think I might've made a mistake, leaving.”
“We can fix that.”
[ ]
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uglypastels · 8 months
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Not Wholly Evil |IX| pirate!Eddie au [NSFW]
a/n we are getting so close to the endddd oh my god i am so excited and sad at the same time because i don't want this story to end as much as some of you, but I also cannot wait to share my next lil projects with you 🥰 thank you for all the support on the last chapter!
this chapter will include explicit scenes. Minors DO NOT Interact. 18+. if you have read the previous chapters but do/should not wish to consume this content, please read:
Chapter 9 (safe for work version)
Series Masterlist
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word count: 13k
"semi dark fic" - READ the warnings:. (gun/sword)violence. blood. mention of severe wounds. minor character death. allusions to suicide. kidnapping. imprisonment. alcohol. open and deep sea. near-death experiences in water. men are pigs: mentions of non-con, but it does not actually occur. [in-dream] non-consensual behaviour. malnourishment and weight loss. paranoia. mention of poisoning. abuse. manhandling. lying. small wounds inflicted by fire. blackmail. binds and knifes. SMUT 18+ ONLY, MDNI - p in v sex. oral (f receiving). no condom (this isn't the 18th century. wrap it before you tap it). choking. thigh riding. jealous!eddie.
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Chapter 9: Paragon
“Perhaps the wolf wasn't quite so dangerous as he pretended. Unfortunately, there was only one way to find out for sure——give him a little rope and see if he hung himself… And pray that he didn't tie her up with it instead.”
― Sabrina Jeffries, Dance of Seduction
He looked like he saw a ghost. And maybe he had. You didn’t feel like yourself, so who was to say if you were still alive? You had comprehended how you carried yourself back to the Hellfire. Standing in his room felt like you were looking down at yourself. Aware of everything around you but understanding none of it.
‘I thought you had left.’ He stepped into the room, leaving the door wide open. As he walked, you noticed he was clearing the way for you, allowing you to leave if you wanted to. His eyes were intently focused on yours and threaded lightly. Like any wrong move would cause you to disappear.
‘I wanted to,’ you admitted. You still wanted to. Your thoughts had screamed through the night for an escape. Yet, something tied you down to this ship and made you return.
‘Then why didn’t you?’ He came closer, and so did you. That string pulled at your ribs again, pulling you two closer. You had tried long enough to fight it to no avail. Whatever you thought you wanted did not compare to your subconscious need to be next to him. 
‘I don’t know.’ Deep down, you knew the reason, but the time was not there yet to admit it. In your mind, you still despised everything about him, this ship, the crew, and, therefore, yourself for needing his touch as much as you did at this moment. It was weak to give in to him like you did.
The candle’s light fell upon him at angles that brought something new out in him or maybe revealed what had always been there. The signs of the wear and tear of a life at sea. He wasn’t hiding it any more, letting all that pain be visible, and he looked beautiful. You held back from reaching out and tracing the thin scar against his brow or the flawed line of his nose that must have been broken once. The longer you looked at him, the more you realised that you could look at him in this way forever. 
And that scared you. 
Munson walked past you to his desk, occupying himself with whatever he could reach. It would have been good for you to have something to focus on instead of him, but you stood in the middle of the room with nothing but him to clutch onto. Neither of you spoke, stuck in an awkward limbo, tiptoeing around one another to see who would be the first to step over that line. The line that had kept you, your heart, safe until now. You could impossibly predict what was to happen if it was crossed.
The ship creaked as the tide softly bounced off it. For the rest, it was uncharacteristically quiet on board.
‘Is the rest coming as well? Will we be departing soon?’ It was ridiculous to change the topic in this manner, but you simply did not know what else to say, and this barrier between you and him was dreadful. You could sense it in the middle, waiting for that catalyst to burst. And you wanted it to. Just how?
‘No, I doubt they realised I’ve gone.’ He finally turned back to face you, leaning against the desk, arms crossed, eyes on the ground. If he could just look at you—would that make things easier or that much harder?
‘Why did you? Leave the tavern, I mean.’ With your heart pounding in your throat, tightening your breath, you stepped toward him. 
‘I noticed you were gone. Then I heard you had gone to the harbour with some man and I thought…. I grew worried.’
‘Why?’ You could not imagine him caring for you to go out, away from his crew and his festivities, to look for you. 
‘I know what you’re thinking, and at first, yes, I was thinking about the money,’ he admitted, which took you aback. You took a step closer. ‘But then I—when I realised, or thought, that I had actually lost you, I thought about how I would never see you again, and I realised—’ his words faded as you took your final step towards, letting your chest press against his. He finally let his eyes meet yours. 
‘Realised what?’ Considering your proximity and seclusion, you hadn’t meant to whisper, but it felt right. 
‘That I was scared’ His breath was shaky as his eyes took all of you in. ‘Of loosing you.’
‘I was scared too.’ And maybe that is what kept you from leaving. The idea that if you would go, there was a possibility that you would never see him again, and it was enough to hollow out your entire being with dread. It felt wrong. But that gnawing in your chest stayed there the whole night, even when you had returned to the Hellfire, and it only left once you felt his fingers intertwine with yours. A flutter of a touch at the fingertips.
‘And? Are you still scared?’ He matched your hushed tone with his response. The question was simple on its surface, but only the facade for an obliterating iceberg was the truth. 
‘No.’ Standing in front of him, feeling his breath on you, the warmth that radiated off him, his gentle touch on your skin, seeing the smile hiding in his features, you saw nothing to be scared of anymore. There was nothing to fear anymore. The voice in you that had screamed for help all those days was silenced for a final time when you leaned in to kiss him.
His lips were chapped, cheeks rough with scars and the light shadowy scruff of a beard. His touch was featherlight, as if he was scared to pursue it as if you were to break underneath him. It starkly contrasted the force he had pulled you in with hours before. The intensity had been dizzying, and yet this was what genuinely shut your mind down entirely. But you could tell that he was not there yet wholly. Something kept him guarded. 
You pulled away, but your lips still shared the same breath. When you opened your eyes, you were met with his and how they were shaking with uncertainty as he took all of you in. 
‘Is there something you’re still afraid of?’ you asked.
‘Many things,’ his hand found its place on your waist, ‘but mostly of myself,’ and gently pushed you away. ‘And what I will do to you. I have made so many mistakes, mistakes that hurt you, already in that I will have to live it for my eternity, but I do not know what I will do if I make one again.’ 
There was silence as you took in his words. You understood them, possibly more than anyone could, for they were yours. As your lips met, you thought if what you were doing would lead to your doom, if it would all end in a disaster, but could something that felt so right be so devastating?
He had let his eyes fall to the ground. You reclaimed the one step he had made you take, closing the gap between you once more and letting your hand guide him to look up at you.
‘Do you think that kiss was a mistake?’ Your heart beat faster than it ever had as you waited for an answer, but his lips remained shut, so you continued. ‘If so, do not play with my heartstrings, but tell me, and I will leave. I will return to my cell, and you can lock me up and never see me again until you bring me back home.’ It would only be a couple of days, and it would hurt to mend this extremely fragile piece of you that you had just opened, but like all wounds do, it would heal eventually.
‘Answer me, captain.’ You kept your voice as steady as possible, regaining the confidence you had built up since you got onto the ship. ‘Was that a mistake?’
‘No.’ And with that one final word, you both leaned in for a kiss. Your hand was still on his cheek, his holding you tightly, but you still felt that urge to pull yourself closer to him. As you felt the press of his chest fully against yours, he actually pulled his lips away from yours. He hesitated but finally spoke against the corner of your mouth. ‘But… call me Eddie. Please.’ 
You couldn’t help but smile into your next kiss. Just like that, all that weight of the world fell off both your shoulders, down into the depths of the ocean, never to be seen again. You didn’t hold back with this newfound freedom when you pushed him up against the desk. The furniture shuffled with a creak over the floor, and you could hear some things topple over at the impact. Still, neither of you cared, too occupied with one another. He could just about manage to extend his hand and begin to push all the loose items off the desk to make space for himself. The papers flew around you, and all the measurement equipment clattered onto the crowd. 
As the kiss intensified, Eddie shrugged and smoothly sat up on the desk, pulling you in with him. As he slowly let himself fall back, you followed, attached by the lips, hands, and hearts, until you practically lay on top, arms keeping you up from falling entirely onto him. Well, one hand, as the other found him and laced your fingers together once more. He had tried to make more space around you, pushing objects aside, when he cursed loudly.
You startled away and saw the clench in his jaw as he took a deep breath. He must have read your panic-stricken face as he showed you his hand. ‘It’s alright,’ his voice was calm, humour peaking through it. ‘I might have just put my hand right into the flame.’ And indeed, the side of his hand was glowing red. 
Hearing this did not put your mind at rest as you tried to grab his hand and inspect the damage more deeply, but he pulled it away from you, instead taking your fingers in his and kissing your knuckles. 
‘Don’t worry, my darling,’ he smiled while kissing your hand, ‘Can barely feel it.’
He had just made direct contact with fire; you doubted it would be alright, but then again, you had seen all the scars on his body. This would just be another small blister among the list of many. But you blinked the thought away. Tried your best to not think about the pain he had endured. You doubted he wanted you to feel pity for him and what had once happened to him. 
The look in his eyes was adamant. He needed you to let it go, so all you could do was sigh.
‘You’ve gone mad.’ 
Eddie chuckled at your comment as he let his lips travel over your wrist, over the length of your arm. ‘As mad as any other sane man.’ His kisses moved over the material of your shirt. The lack of contact that was so clearly there shot sparks of anticipation through you, but he took his time taking you all in until his lips reached your collar. He had practically strained his neck to reach you from his position. Some of you wanted to back away to see how far he would follow you, but your weaker portion gave into his touch and melted over it. 
He had just kissed your neck, sparking a fire through you on the spot, when a noise boomed over the silent ship, bursting you out of the solitary moment of bliss. In an instant, Eddie held you by the hips as he gently pushed you off him and got himself back on the ground. There was an alarm in his features, and so, when he looked at you and told you to “Stay here”, for once, you listened.
He closed the door behind him as he left to see what the noise was, and when minutes later, he had not returned, but there had also not been any more ruckus or signs of danger; you calmed down. Unsure of what to do now, you lay down on the bed. In the past few days, the bed had gotten more comfortable as you got used to it, but it still felt strange. You lay down on your side, facing the wall. The patterns in the wooden planks almost seemed to move in the shadowy light and, unfortunately for you, brought you into a trance of clarity and thoughts.
What were you doing? How could you have let all this happen? Kissing the man that had caused the death of so many people that you had deemed friends. How could you betray their souls by… by falling for him? You had lost control of all your feelings and emotions. 
It was a trick of the sea. You had simply been captured on this ship for so long that you did not know what was wrong or right. How else could you explain the yearning feeling that still circulated through you? Why else did you wish he was still here with you, touching you?
With all these thoughts occupying your mind, you must have missed Eddie walking back into the room, mumbling something about how it had been a few of his crew that stumbled back up to the ship. Too busy with your own mind, you did not hear him calling your name softly, assuming you had fallen asleep and telling you good night. You did not hear how deflated the last words came from his mouth. You only caught the sound of the door closing behind him. 
And soon you managed to turn all these thoughts off and fall asleep. Except then, they came back even stronger and in the form of dreams. You found yourself back on the Red Tail. The hawk flapped its wings on the flag in the wind and every man’s uniform. The sun shone brightly in its last few minutes before hiding behind the horizon. It was a strange illusion as you stared down at the ship and the two figures that stood out looking at the sparkling sea. You watched yourself talking to Admiral Carver.
‘I would have imagined you to have grown tired of the water by now,’ he laughed.
‘I won’t say I will be happy to return home, but I can’t ever see myself becoming tired of this view. It is beautiful.’ You leaned forward onto the balustrade and breathed in the salty air. ‘Besides, you have done this for much longer than I have, and you’re here too, so it can’t be that bad.’ It seemed it was only your first expedition while he had crossed the world several times. If anyone was to grow tired of it, you thought it would be him. 
‘Perhaps you’re right,’ he had his arms behind his back, ‘but everything is more bearable when there is something back home to look forward to.’ 
‘I suppose so.’ You would not exactly know what he meant. Of course, you could not wait to see your father again, and your friends, but nothing at home gave you the sense that it genuinely anchored you there or drew your heart in for your return. ‘I am sure you miss your family very much.’
‘Yes, of course,’ He took a step closer to you, ‘but I will miss these moments.’
‘Oh,’ you were startled by his proximity, unsure how to respond. Politely, you smiled and tried to keep the conversation going, ‘I’ve enjoyed them too, uhmm-’, but you were suddenly thrown off-guard when you felt his hands on you. Before he had the chance to do anything, you were quick to push him off. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Taking our last chance before it’s too late.’ He leaned in again, and you stepped back. 
‘What about your–’
‘She does not need to know.’ The sea was a free playing field for most men, so what happened out there was not up to the women at home to know. You had seen adultery but never thought the admiral would participate in such activities. He had been drinking; maybe he wasn’t thinking straight. Before he would make any more mistakes, you attempted to walk away, but he caught you by the arm, putting all his strength into the hold.
‘Admiral, you’re hurting me.’ You tried to pull your arm back, and this is where things began to change. Where the dream made itself apparent. Carver’s handsome features turned into vicious angles as he spoke. 
‘So you’ll kiss Munson, but not me?’ 
‘What- what are you–’ you tried to get away, but it was as if he grew in size. And there were flashes. These flashes of light. Like lightning, there was no thunder, rain, or light. It blinded you, and you tried to regain your sight by blinking, but each time you did so, he seemed to change right in front of you. 
There was him like you knew him, but the next second he turned into this nightmarish version of himself, but there were moments when he wasn’t himself at all. You’d blink, and suddenly you saw Captain Munson. Still in that uniform, however, you would try to make sense of it all. Still, before you could, he would disappear again, and you would be looking into Carver’s blank eyes, and you’d see the blood dripping from his mouth as he spat out his words.
‘Don’t trust him.’
‘What?’ You had tears in your eyes, and your wrist burned from his touch. There was another flash of light. Eddie stood before you again, just as you knew him. 
‘Do not trust him.’
Don’t trust who? Who were you meant to trust, then? The questions rang through you as you woke up, head throbbing with pain, limbs sore and dehydrated. If you did not know any better, you would have blamed the rum you consumed the night before on everything, making you imagine all that had happened. Still, the sensation that Eddie had left on your whole body felt too real to be just a drunken dream or nightmare.
He was not in the cabin when you awoke, but you could hear him outside, yelling commands out. When you looked outside the window, you could tell by how the waves moved that you had departed the Saint Claire harbour and were on your way again.
You sat up in bed but remained still afterwards, uncertain what to do next. Some part of you wanted to go outside and see Eddie, talk to him about whatever it was that had happened that night. Still, a bigger side of you doubted you could ever look him in the eye again. Seeing your reflection from the glass doors of a cabinet in the room, of yourself in his bed, made you feel bad enough. So, staying in the room for the rest of the day was not an option either. You were already at the door, hand on the handle, when it opened, nearly crashing into you. 
‘Sorry,’ his apology was muffled. 
‘I was just on my way out,’ you muttered in the same awkward tone and walked past him. 
‘Wait,’ Eddie reached for you, and the memory of your dream of Carver made you retract away from him, regretting it as soon as you did. Eddie wasn’t him, but you treated him the same because of something your exhausted mind had decided to conjure up. Eddie kept his distance. ‘Can we talk?’
‘Later,’ you pleaded. This was not the right time. You could tell that it would not end well if you stayed there. 
But when would it be right? When would the stars align correctly for you to speak? It certainly wasn’t the next two days, as you kept walking in circles around eachother. You avoided him like the plague, and it was unlikely that he had not noticed yet. 
You kept yourself occupied with anyone else but him, really. Talking to Robin, Steve, and anyone else who seemed to require company as much as you. Almost as much, at least. It shocked you as well as them how smoothly the conversations went. While only a little was exchanged, neither side being too keen on sharing too much of their past, somehow, you still managed to fill hours with polite pleasantries. Some even showed you how to work around the ship, probably more than happy to give you some of their workload now. You didn’t mind. It was alright if it stopped you from overthinking everything that had happened in the past weeks. But it was still hard to do when you felt Eddie’s eyes on you. He’d watch you work the sails or anything else from afar, but when you’d try and catch him, he’d be suddenly occupied with something and walk away. 
The biggest surprise, however, came one evening when everyone had gathered for their final meal of the day. You had gotten your portion and were ready to return to the cabin when Robin pointed to the seat between her and Steve. You wanted to politely decline, feeling like you did not strictly belong in this dynamic—the crew’s meals felt more sacred, a moment for them to spend together, but they all saw your argument coming and shut it down. 
‘Never thought I’d say this,’ Wheeler, one of the lankier crewmates, said at some point, ‘but I might actually miss you.’ There was a cloud of agreeable laughter to which you belonged. It was funny, but what scared you was that you would miss them too when that eventual day of your return home would come. 
And it was coming.
Something about the air around you began to feel more familiar each day. And when you talked to Robin, you could sense that she knew how much time there was left. But each time you asked, she avoided answering straightforwardly. 
‘Not sure. But you know how seatravels are, you can never be sure… I mean, we should have been there days ago and yet,’ she laughed nervously, tying knots in a piece of old rope that someone had cut off once. 
‘I suppose you’re right.’ You had your own piece of rope and were toying with the frayed ends, pulling them apart mindlessly. You could hear Eddie talking to someone somewhere around, and you did your best not to look up. It had been days, but your tension still felt raw and strange. You wanted to simultaneously run into his arms and run away from him as far as possible, and you could not figure out which urge was the right one to follow.
‘It probably won’t take much longer, don’t worry.’ Robin said, her shoulder slumping as she untied another knot to remake it.
‘I’m not worried,’ you admitted. 
‘No, and you don’t need to be,’ Robin panicked, not wanting to give you the wrong impression of what she had intended to say, ‘but I’m sure you’ll be glad to be home.’ To this, you had no response because, very much like in your last days on your old ship, you had been eagerly awaiting your return home but did not feel like you were actually happy to go back. On top of that, you actually had the sense that you would miss this crew. By leaving, you would be leaving something behind, and you had never felt that before.
But it still did not feel right. Like a kink in your neck that you were trying to stretch out until it disappeared.
‘Can I ask you something?’ you said cautiously. 
Robin glanced up from her rope. ‘You always scare me when you say that.’ 
‘I hadn’t noticed I did it often.’ 
‘You’re quite inquisitive. It’s commendable, but dangerous.’
‘Should I be scared?’ You blinked. 
‘Not here, but in other parts of the world they’re not too keen on it, so just beware.’ She had tied a knot she couldn’t loosen anymore. ‘But what was your question?’ 
You took a deep breath. ‘Why did you target the Red Tail? And I know it was targeted, since the captain was aware what ship you were attacking.’ There was that other puzzle piece that was missing in your brain. How would he know if you were supposed to be on that ship or not? 
Robin froze and dropped her rope. You watched it fall to the ground and her reaching to pick it up clumsily. Once she did, she fumbled around even more with it. ‘I’m probably not the best person to ask this; I joined the crew late, I don’t know everything that’s going on around—’ she was getting distracted, losing the point of your question, or so you thought, ‘I had only heard things, but you have to know that people around here, we trust each other and that trust is earned. We might cheat once in a while in a game of cards or dice, but some things you just can’t lie about.
‘So, I didn’t need much convincing from the captain when he said that those— that those were bad men.’
‘He told you that my crew were bad men?’ 
‘They needed to be punished.’ Robin shrugged, but not in the way that made you think she thought indifferent. More so that, there was nothing she could do about it. It was a brief apology to you, not for what they had done, but as if she was sorry for being the bearer of the news. 
‘Punished for what?’ you asked, but Robin shook her head. Right, she wouldn’t be able to know, and you didn’t blame her. Was there anyone around willing to share more of the specifics of this situation? You felt like you had the right to explain what had brought you to their ship, but it would go past some lines of comfort for the men. Could you dare ask Eddie? 
But to ignore him for days just to come up with these questions could not be appreciated; then again, he owed you at least this after being the sole reason for your presence on this ship in the first place. He had caused all this mess. He could at least help you clean it up. 
You finished your conversation with Robin slowly, without any urgency to actually put it to an end. It must have been confusing to Robin, who saw how you tried to tie your sentences up to walk away, just to disentangle them just as she had been doing with her rope and keep pulling it back. Ultimately, she stopped it all and excused herself from the argument she needed back on her lookout post. She walked away, giving you this look that made it clear to you that she knew what you were planning to do and how apprehensive you were to do it. And whatever for? You had fought, punched, slapped and kissed Eddie in the past days without hesitation; why could you not just talk to him now?
Because that would actually mean something to you. It would unblur all the lines that connected you into a clear pattern, and you would have to live with those results, and you just were not ready for that yet. 
You took deep breaths as you walked up to the captain’s quarters. The door creaked as it slid open but was met with a resistant force as you collided with Eddie. He grunted lightly at the impact, and you began to apologise. 
‘Sorry,’ you mumbled, not expecting him to be so close suddenly. You had hoped to catch him at his desk, where the furniture could keep some kind of barrier between you. Still, now he stood mere inches away, towering over you and the heat of his body radiating onto yours. 
‘I was just on my way out.’ He scratched his beard casually, but his eyes said enough about how similarly he felt about your sudden appearance.
‘I hoped we could talk,’ you blurted out, and Eddie blinked.
‘Talk? Now?’ To this, you only nodded shyly. It had been too long. You had made him wait for days, which was simply too long. Why would he want to listen to what you had to say now? Eddie was ready to brush past you, but you were quicker, catching his arm and pulling eachother closer until your lips met in a chaste kiss. The suddenness stunned him, but for a blink of an eye before his muscles melted into position around you. It only confirmed your worst thoughts, how perfectly the two of you fit together, how your bodies simply locked into place with one another. The heat that grew between you could not only be felt by you. It was too strong for that. As much as you did not want to admit it, there was something there that you did not want to lose.
‘I’m sorry, ‘you said breathlessly, ‘for everything I’ve done in the past few days.’
‘You have done nothing to apologise for.’ He sighed.
‘Exactly,’ you jumped back at how loud you sounded. Still, his pull on your waist kept you close, ‘I have done nothing, while I should have stayed here with you, and we should have talked of, of whatever it is that stands between us, but—but I was scared. I thought I hadn’t been, but I was, and that, in turn, scared me even more, so I thought I needed time to think—’ 
‘And did you?’ He looked down at you inquisitively like he was observing a strange, yet highly fascinating, phenomenon in front of him. Something that he should not be enjoying as much as he was. The unwanted smirk appeared on his lips no matter how hard he tried to hide it. It made you aware of just how much you had tried to say in what short of an amount of time.
‘Yes,’ you said with a slow breath to help you calm down. At this, Eddie simply reacted with a gesture telling you to go on, to tell him what kind of discovery you had made. Would it be anything that could help your conundrum? Clear things up in your heads and maybe even hearts? You could not be sure, but it was a start if you just let those parts of you speak freely.
You took one more deep breath. ‘That night you asked me if I was scared, and I said “no”, but…’ you pushed past the shake of your voice. ‘But I realise now that that wasn’t the truth.’ As you announced this, the hand on your waist tightened its grip before leaving your body entirely. The immediate lack of contact made you regret your choice of words. Maybe you should have prepared what to say, but letting it come out unrehearsed and unplanned felt like the right thing to do. It would not cut out any of the emotions you felt. What you wanted him to know that you thought, so you stammered out your following words.
‘There is so much that I am scared of. It scares me how and how much I have changed in the past few days, and I am scared that I do not mind it. It scares me how much I enjoy being here and how much I want to be… with you.’ Your last words faded as you had not expected to hear yourself say them out loud. Eddie, who you had watched as he walked around the room in slow paces as he listened, must not have expected them, too, for he stopped to stare at you, dumbfounded.
‘Why?’ was the only thing he said in response. 
‘Because…’ you let out an exasperated sigh, walking up to him. You had somehow managed to find yourselves at his throne, ‘because this is not who I am supposed to be. I shouldn’t be. You are you; I am me, and nothing here is right.’ Yet the puzzle had never fit tighter together than it did now. But at the same time… ‘As much as I want to spend my days with you, I cannot stop thinking about all the chaos you have caused in my life. Whether on purpose or not…There is blood on your hands, Eddie.’ there were tears in your eyes. Eddie looked down at his hands as if you had meant it literally. They were pale and had a shake to them, but he quickly put them down to his sides.
‘And yet you’re still here.’ He said it with a distance, more to himself than anyone else, narrating the events as if putting it all into words could make it make more sense somehow, and maybe to him, it did. However, you were still utterly clueless and running in the dark.
‘I am.’ You nodded your head lightly. ‘And I wish I could explain why. To you and to myself, but I simply do not know.’
‘Let me pose you these two questions then,’ he spoke sternly, and you got the unexpected feeling that this would be a test you had to ace. ‘Are you still scared of me? Do you regret anything that happened between us?
‘Answer yes to either of my questions,’ he held two fingers up, ‘and I will make all of this very easy for you and disappear. You will never have to see me again but be honest.’ Looking into his eyes the way you were, it was difficult to lie, or it would have been if you had any intention of doing so. The word came easier to you than anything else had in your life, but you still needed to know some things before sealing your fate.
‘Before I answer, I need to know your business with the admiral.’
Eddie scoffed, looking out the window, ‘I could not care less about the admiral.’ Something in him tensed up despite his attempt to make his reply come out casually. Everything besides his eyes, which flickered with so many emotions simultaneously, you could not distinguish between them soon enough.
‘But the attack on my ship was deliberate, was it not?’ You did not need this to become another one of your rows and spoke as carefully as you could manage. If one of you began to raise your voice or fill your words with anger, it would take over the other, exploding fatally in the middle, and that is not what you wanted.
‘What do you remember from that day?’ He looked at you, head cocked to the side as he studied your face. He saw you blink slowly, trying to understand what he was implying.
‘I remember everything.’ How could you not? It was one of the most terrifying days of your life. ‘I remember being on the deck and seeing your dark sails and how I hid under that desk as the canons went off–’ 
‘Whose canons?’ He stared at you blankly, and you mirrored him perfectly. 
‘What?’
‘What canons did you hear go off? Who shot first?’ He did not say anything else, just stood still as you tried to reply with confidence that you lost as soon as you gave your answer some thought.
Everything had happened so quickly, and it was so loud. All you had tried was to block it out. But you heard the bangs. They came from all sides, but the first one... the first one was the closest.
Eddie must have seen the recognition on your face. ‘I know that those people were your friends. And I am sorry that that is how things-’
‘But you said I was not meant to be on board. You knew what ship it was.’ You cut him off at the memory. ‘You would have attacked either way, wouldn’t you?’
‘It is not that simple.’ He shook his head.
‘Isn’t it?’ 
‘No, and I wish I could explain, but I fear that whatever I tell you will only make you see the worst in me and them.’ 
‘You could at least try.’ You reached for his hand, and a bit of you leapt in relief when you saw he did not pull away. ‘I want to understand, Eddie. You do not know how horrible it is to live in this realm of uncertainty and oblivion.’
‘Would you rather live with the horrors of the truth?’ He asked genuinely, with the pain that exactly this truth had caused him in his eyes.
‘Is that not a choice I deserve to make by myself?’ You once again found yourself up against him. Funny how it always came back to this and how you would not have wanted it any other way.
‘You’ve said it yourself; I’ve hurt you enough times. I can not risk doing it again. I will not let myself do that.’ He brushed a strand of hair from your face, brushing his fingers over your cheek. ‘Now, will you please answer my questions?’
‘No,’ and with that, you answered both. Whatever tugged at you from the inside to feel such anxiety had nothing to do with Eddie.
On the contrary, you felt a sense of calm whenever you saw him. And you had wanted, really wanted, to regret those kisses, but you still dreamt of them at night, and it was all with a magical wonder that you wished to experience once more. Despite everything in your life that had led to this that would have told you to turn around and run away, you stayed firmly in your place in front of him with no intention of ever running away again.
Eddie leaned in, and you anticipated a kiss that never came as he spoke against the corner of your mouth, sending shivers down your spine. ‘I need you to say it, darling.’
‘I’m not scared of you, Eddie.’ The tremble in your voice had nothing to do with fear but all with the way he held you. His hand had moved down your cheek onto your neck, fingers wrapped around your throat, thumb caressing your jaw. His eyes pierced through you. ‘And I do not regret anything.’
You knew Eddie had seen all the far corners of the world. You must have come across the grandest of riches. Yet standing in front of him, you could not help but think how seeing Captain Eddie Munson beam his most genuine smile was the rarest and most beautiful treasure of them all. It was infectious; you could not help but smile at it. 
He let himself come close again, but just as your lips were about to touch, he spoke instead. Right against you, the hot air of his breath pricked at your skin with his light laugh. ‘Before all of this, had you ever imagined yourself here with me?’
As much as you had wished it was not true, ‘I did, actually.’ Your mind flashed to your dreams, the ones you had once thought were conjured up to plague you, but now you realised it was just your heart screaming out your deepest desires.
Like a reward, Eddie kissed your cheek for your reply. ‘Really? The princess had thought of me, a filthy pirate?’
‘I’m not a princess.’ You rolled your eyes playfully.
‘Out of all the things to dispute, you argue my words of affection?’ He chuckled, and you could feel the vibrations deep within his chest. 
‘There was nothing else to correct.’ You wanted to laugh but instead froze at the sensation of Eddie lightly putting pressure on your throat as he was still kissing pieces of your face. Just like that, everything in the past minutes disappeared from your mind. When he pulled away, you saw the mischievous glint in his eyes that once used to bring out fear of the worst in you.
‘Glad to know you haven’t changed too much, darling.’ With his hand around you, he gave you little choice but to look up at him. There was a moment in which both of you took everything of the other in. You tried to soak in all his features from this small distance, for some reason feeling the need to remember them all. Meanwhile, he read your face for any signs of reluctance, which he found none of. ‘You enjoyed that, didn’t you, princess?’ 
A question which brought a lot of enjoyment out of him.
Still taken aback by his actions, you stood there with your lips slightly parted, bewildered, so all you did was nod. And again, your response was rewarded with another kiss, finally letting you meet his lips while tightening his hold on you.  The weak sound that came out of your mouth at the feeling was an instinct. You had never heard yourself make such a sound, and he must have known it somehow as his grin grew wider against you. 
The kiss grew in strength by the fleeting second as you both lost control over your bodies, just letting them speak for themselves. It was messy and heated. The pent-up tension that had been sitting between you was finally finding its release. Eddie’s hands roamed over your body, almost in a hunger-like manner, devouring you with his touch alone. Maybe this hunger felt too real when Eddie’s teeth grazed over your neck, sending an unknown spark through your body at the sensation.
You held onto him tightly, one hand on his shoulder as the other rooted itself in his dark locks—which made you soon realise that the tiniest of motions of you caused a reaction in him as well, in the form of a low hiss as you pulled the hairs on the back of his neck. It had been an accident, as you tried to keep yourself up when the pleasure he brought you made you feel light as a feather.
Eddie hummed at your response as his hands continued their wandering path across your body. The pressure of his palms, combined with the slow and tantalising pace at which he moved, drove you to press your body eagerly against him, which, in turn, only spurred him on to continue down this track of your curves. His movements got rougher as he kept going.
With your urge to keep your bodies close, you quickly caught on Eddie walking backwards. You followed him mindlessly until he found his throne seat and pulled you along with him, right on top of his lap. At this proximity, you could feel all of him underneath you.
‘Tell me,’ he kissed you briefly between words, ‘have you ever been with a man before?’
‘Yes,’ you dared to reply with the truth. Anywhere else, it would have been considered a great shame, a sin of the highest degree, but with Eddie, somehow, you felt like he had wanted that to be your answer. You tried to focus on his face, that smile he shot up at you and the short answer you gave him, instead of how his hands roamed over your thighs. Even with the fabric of your trousers in between, his effect on you was immense. He must have felt how you tensed up when he reached your core. 
‘Did anyone ever touch you like this?’ 
‘Uhm, no, not in this way.’ You struggled with the words as he let his fingers press over your most sensitive parts, everywhere all at once. You could barely keep track of it. Another moan escaped you as his hand moved over your breast. Even with the fabric keeping your modesty intact, he had still found a way for his fingers to move smoothly across your nipples. The feeling lulled you into comfort, brewing the heat inside your chest. And so, you gasped as, with one aggressive pull, Eddie ripped the material of your shirt in two, revealing you to him entirely. Your eyes were wide in shock as his darkened with want.
‘Not scared of me yet, are you, princess?’ His hand was on your ribs, waiting for permission to touch your bare skin. 
‘No,’ your voice sounded like a hushed, airy whisper. Eddie smiled but still hesitated with his subsequent actions. As the shirt sleeve fell off your shoulder, he kissed you again. Except this time, his lips met your breast. The arch in your back, the tug of your hips towards him, was an almost mechanised reaction to it. And with it came the friction of his thigh against you. 
‘Eddie.’ His name sounded shaky coming from you as you could barely inhale a steady breath, too occupied with him.
‘That’s right, princess.’ He groaned as his lips remained on your skin, kissing the valley of your chest. With each kiss, your want for him grew, but your movements over his thigh barely covered the needed friction. You dug your nails into his shoulders, making him groan out in pained pleasure. He cursed before taking you by the hips. ‘Stand up.’
You did as he asked, something that did not go unnoticed by either of you. Eddie chuckled as he looked up at you, chin on your stomach, lips nearly pressing against it, so close you could feel the vibrations of his voice. 
‘So you can be good for me.’
A snide remark was already forming on the tip of your tongue, but Eddie was quicker. Smoothly, he pulled down your trousers and let them pool at your ankles. You stood in front of him in only your torn-up shirt. His large eyes were on you up until the moment his face made contact with your core, and at that moment, everything went black. You could just about make out that you held him close to you, pulling at his hair; as for the rest, the world was turning upside down and around at a speed that made everything seem like a sea full of stars. Your moans filled the room as his tongue licked through your slit. 
You assumed that with how he held you with one hand, his fingers would leave marks for days, but the other was much lower. You could hear the sound of a belt unbuckling. He was clearly struggling to work around his clothes with only one hand, especially with most of him already preoccupied with you and your pleasure. Never before had you seen such kind of ferocity in a man. Not when he pulled himself closer to you and practically fell to his knees from the throne. You surely would have fallen back if it had not been for him and the desk that hit your legs and now acted as an extra grip. It was especially needed when Eddie pulled your leg over his shoulder, gaining even more access to you. 
The desk kept sliding back with the force at which he held you in your place, grazing the floor, but it was all blocked out by your moans. They were filled with curses and the repetition of his name as your vision blurred with ecstasy and your body tightened with need. There was no possible way that the rest could not hear you through the thin walls of the cabin, but you could not care less about them. At this moment, they simply did not exist. 
‘You taste absolutely divine.’ Eddie spoke while kissing your inner thigh, making your legs even weaker. You noticed his lips glistening, never looking more kissable than ever before. 
He had run your mind through a mill; words were hard to come by. All you could muster out was a weak hum as you let your hand brush through his hair. At that, he nuzzled himself between your legs again, this time much gentler, and took his time kissing every inch of skin he had access to, giving you the time to catch your breath while still keeping you on that high edge.
‘I—I never…’ you still struggled to form a sentence.
‘Hmm,’ he kissed your stomach, ‘I know.’ And he slowly rose to his feet, catching your face in one more passionate kiss. You had gotten so used to how he tasted—rum, tobacco, sea air— that your flavour threw you off for a moment, but soon enough, you were sinking into him just as before. And again, you could hear the struggling twinkle of a locked belt buckle. 
‘Would you be a doll,’ he said with his amusement running down your cheek, ‘and help a poor man out.’
You reached for his trousers, undoing the belt and unbuttoning them so they could drop down his thighs. You had felt it before, how aroused he had grown, but seeing it made you take a step back. 
‘Nothing to be afraid of, darling.’ He grinned, placing a hand on your cheek. The other made itself comfortable between your legs, toying with your wetness. 
‘I know.’ You looked into his eyes. The warmth of them had burned up into a dark and hungry desire. Putting a light pressure onto his shoulders, you pushed him back down into the chair. Eddie practically bounced in the seat, taking you all in as much as you took the moment to look at him. Your flicker of confidence in the moment when you thought you knew what you were doing fizzled, but he must have read that off of you, as the next second he was the one pulling you down. 
‘Was this how you expected it to be,’ he murmured against your ear, ‘when you thought about us.’ 
‘No,’ you admitted. It was nothing like you had imagined. All your dreams had been of what you had thought he was; careless, dangerous, feeding off your fear. There had been none of this passion that you felt now. None of the heat, the tenderness or the feeling.
‘Anything you’d still like to change,’ he kissed the soft spot of skin behind your ear that made you shiver. 
‘No,’ you gasped. You could feel him against you, just waiting for the moment to enter you. The two of you were dancing around it, letting other make that next move, the plunge off the cliff, with no return. You shuffled over his thighs. One more kiss would seal the final deal when you moved your hips up and he adjusted himself infront of you.
The moan you let out at the feeling of him inside you, of him stretching your walls and filling you whole, was impossible to miss. Ships from miles away could probably tell what was going on, but again, they were not a part of your universe in this moment. Just you. You concentrated at the pace he was making you keep up with. The roll of your hips against the grind of his. Each thrust went deeper and harder making Eddie more aggressive in the most blissful of ways. There was nothing else to think about, because why would you when this felt so good? Reality went lost on you, until you felt his fingers dig into your side, a pain rushing through you. 
Both of you froze.
‘What’s wrong?’ Eddie immediately looked to where he had held you, pulling the remaining pieces of your shirt up to reveal the scar. The rough skin was a stark contrast to the rest of you. He met your eyes again. ‘Does it still hurt?’
‘It’s just sensitive.’ You wanted to push his hand away, cover the mark up again so neither of you had to be reminded of it. It had been a stupid mistake, that much you knew, and it was not as if you could change the past, so why let it pester you? But Eddie was not the kind to give up easily. He pushed the shirt material back up, keeping your hand away from him, to inspect the damage he had caused. 
‘I’ve done a lot in my life that I will forever regret,’ he kissed your shoulder as his thumb traced over the scarred line, ‘but this will probably haunt me the longest.’ His words and touch, combined with how you sat in his lap, still full of him, got you lost for words. Because, of course, you had hoped that this was his sentiment, you understood and appreciated his words, but what else was there to say? The only thing you could think of replying, which felt silly to do seeing your current position, was ask for some clarification.
‘What happened? I would have thought you had more control over your sword than that.’ You aired the conversation with a bit of laughter, but it only spurred him on to thrust deeper into you.
 ‘I had thought so too,’ he kept moving his hips forcefully, ‘I had hoped so,’ he kissed you sloppily, ‘but I lost it all when I saw you with him.’
‘Who?’ you asked. Maybe under different circumstances, you could have thought more clearly to realise what he was speaking of, but that did not seem possible. 
‘Harrington,’ the name came out of him with a bitter taste. Apparently, the feelings from that day had not disappeared as far as he had thought, but now he could let these frustrations out in a less hazardous manner. It still took a toll on you, but there was no pain to speak of. Just pure pleasure. 
Still, the mention of the crew member had surprised you. ‘Why– why would you—’
‘The way he held you, smiled at you, don’t you think I had wanted to do that? From the moment I saw you—but all I did was drive you away. It was just another reminder of my failure and before I knew it I—’ he stopped himself, still unable to properly speak of what happened. You kissed the bridge of his nose. 
‘For what it’s worth,’ you tugged at the words to come out cohesively, ‘I never thought of him as—’
‘It does not even matter what you think of him,’ he laughed, more so at himself, ‘You could fall for and by happy with any man on this earth and I could make my peace with it. I just don’t want to be the reason for your suffering.’
‘I think—’ a moan burst through your thought with another deep thrust, ‘I think you have managed to pay back any of your wrongdoings.’
‘Oh, darling, I haven’t even started to repay my debts.’ And so, Eddie kissed your neck, over and over, and with those kisses moved down to your brest. Your head rolled back with a soft whine at the attention he gave you, if not with his mouth, than the hand that kneaded your flesh and played with your nipples. 
As he kept going, and as your hips met his and the pleasure burst through you, you could feel everything coming to a close. The tightness in your body swelled while your control over it strayed. There was no possible way you could hold on for much longer and from the looks of it, Eddie had no plans on making you wait. He bucked his hips into you harder and harder, almost impossibly for you to keep it all in. You could explode with this pleasure and that is exactly what he wanted.
‘Mmm c’mon, princess. Feel so good around me,’ he hummed, ‘could anyone make you feel this good?’ 
‘Just you,’ you moaned out, holding tightly on to him as you felt the tension build up in you. 
‘That’s right,’ he had a smug smile across his face that you wished you could wipe off, and you would if you did not need him to keep doing whatever it was he did. Were his fingers back between your legs? Rubbing tight circles, sparking up your sensitivity. ‘Just me.’
‘Just you, Eddie,’ his named squeaked out from between your teeth when he reached the deepest part of you.
‘I’ll never get enough of you saying my name.’ 
‘Eddie,’ you repeated it in in a haze with his final thrusts that finally brought you over the edge. Stars fell over you in pleasure as Eddie slowed down his movements, letting you come down from the high. He held you tightly in his arms as you let your head fall on his shoulder until you fell into a comfortable silence. There was only the rush of the waves and your tired breaths that filled your ears.
Once your heart settled back to a steady pace, you knew it wasn’t safe. As good as this moment felt, it wouldn’t last. Whatever this was, there was no possibility in which it would outlive this voyage. Then, once it was over, it would hurt. That much you knew. Possibly more than anything had hurt before, and you would just have to be on the lookout for that end until then to let yourself become at peace with it. There wasn’t another choice, as this idea always stayed with you in the back of your head from that moment on. When you fell asleep in Eddie’s arms that night, you thought how many more days you got to wake to in such bliss as you did the next morning.
You could not tell if Eddie had these troubles, you could not tell, for he went through his following days much like before. The only difference was that his free minutes were now occupied with you.
It had not been your intention to make it so obvious to the crew, but there was also so little you could hide from them. Nothing could escape the dozens of interested eyes, so why hide your affection towards their captain? He certainly was not making any attempts. Any chance he got, he found himself at your side, holding you, kissing you, then behind closed doors, do all the other unspeakable things to you that made the others turn green of envy. 
Your mornings and afternoons were much the same as they had been before the night of the storm and the Hellfire’s arrival at Saint Claire, as you still spent it in each other's company. The difference was now that instead of being separated by the large oak desk, Eddie would often pull you into his lap to sit in the throne, if not making himself comfortable with you on the bed. The nights began with kisses and limbs tangled with eachother and merged into a joined slumber. Unfortunately, as happy as your days felt, it would not stop the nightmares from coming, but each time you would awake in a cold sweat or with shaking hands, he would be right there to coax you back to peace. What surprised you, however, was that you would do the same to him. 
Somehow, the thought of the notorious captain waking up screaming in the middle of the night, chest heaving, eyes wide with fear, had never occurred to you. You had never imagined him reaching for your thigh to ground himself as his reality spiralled in the dark.
‘Shh,’ you held him tightly, ‘it’s okay.’ 
Neither of you asked what the dreams were about, knowing you could do nothing about them. You could just help the other through it. And then, each time, the dreams that followed were much sweeter. 
Then you’d wake up in each other’s arms long before the rest of the world seemed to. Those few blissful moments where nothing could disturb you and the time you could spend in that bed was endless. 
Except it very much was not. And you realised it exactly through what you thought would be your escape. 
It was a sunny morning. The golden sunrays illuminated the cabin as you reached for Eddie, just to find the side of the bed to be empty. Only his impression in the covers, the faint temperature his body had radiated onto them, was still there. It could not have been long since he had gotten up, and indeed, you caught him standing at the window—leaning against it, more like. His trousers were loose on his hips, and his shirt was still on the ground around you. 
Grabbing that shirt and throwing it over your naked body, you walked over to him, and he looked in your direction as soon as he heard your footsteps. The smile in his eyes was genuine but weak. As soon as you were close enough, he pulled you into an embrace, twirling you around so your back would hit his chest and you could look out at the sea. With how the sunrays sparkled across the waves, it all felt like a dream, too good to be true, but you did not know yet that the dream was at the end of its tether.
‘I really am sorry,’ he mumbled, having his face already nuzzled in the crook of your neck, kissing the spot where it met your shoulder.
‘What for?’ Apologies had become a frequent appearance in his vocabulary, showing up in almost every conversation, if not sentence.
‘You know.’ Yes, you did know. For everything. He held a moment of silence, enjoying your presence in his arms for a little longer, before speaking again. ‘I just keep thinking about how everything between us happened, and if it had not been for me, we could have had more.’
‘I’m just as guilty.’ You had been stubborn, aggressive, and just as blind to your feelings. 
‘Highly doubtful statement.’ He laughed, and his breath tickled the hairs on your neck.
‘I don’t think so.’ You shrugged in his hold.
‘Still just as stubborn, aren’t you, princess.’ He squeezed you tighter. 
‘Is that not one of my most desirable attributes?’ You spun yourself around in his hold and quickly wrapped your arms around him. Doing so, hearing his tone and joy in his  voice, you had expected to see him smiling, but he looked just as sombre as when you had walked up to him. ‘What’s wrong?’ Your hand mindlessly began to trace over the scars on his chest, knowing it brought comfort to both you and him by now.
Eddie shook his head, holding back a laugh. ‘You know…’ he kissed your forehead,  ‘when I woke up, I saw you lying there, with the sun shining on your face, and you looked so peaceful, I had honesty considered just locking you away and keeping you forever, but I am a man of my word, am I not?’
‘I…don’t understand.’ You tried to see the meaning behind his words in his eyes, but there was nothing, and it only got harder to figure out when he held his forehead against yours, keeping you close. You still tried to make sense of what he said when you saw it. There, in the far back corner of your eye. So far, it could have been a play of light, and yet it was more real than anything. So undeniably real it crushed everything around you without question. 
From the angle the ship stood at, that was as much as you could envision through the windows, and thus you ran out of the room. As much as you did not want to leave Eddie behind, knowing it could be one of the last moments the two of you had, you ran out onto the deck to meet the silhouette of mountains against the rising sun. The longer you looked at it, the clearer the details became. The ridges of the mountains, the forests, the watch towers and houses. The uniformed ships that stood in the harbour.  
You knew this day was coming, you had been waiting for it, and yet, now that it was right there in front of you, you wished to be as far from it as possible. In what must have been shock, you took a couple of steps back just to collide with something—someone. You turned around to see Eddie and his soft but sad smile.
‘Welcome home,’ he announced.
Home, sweet home.
Your head turned between him and the land in the too-near distance, waiting for one of them to disappear, maybe even both. Why was this so difficult for your mind to comprehend? Why were the first words to come from your mouth, ‘Can we turn back?’ 
‘As much as I would want to,’ he sighed, ‘I’m sure they’ve noticed us by now.’ They must have. The watchers in those towers had the eyes of hawks, one of the reasons why your town was named after the bird.
‘So, what do we do?’ This is not how someone who is to be returning to their family after months spent with criminals was meant to respond. Everything about this was so wrong.
‘Go put your dress on.’ Eddie cocked his head back to the cabin. ‘I doubt they will appreciate you wearing this, as much as I adore it on you.’ That is when you realised you stood out on the main deck wearing only his shirt. ‘I’ll meet you in a few minutes.’ And with that, he gave you that look he had given you all those times before when you had been too headstrong in your own actions. Please, listen to me. It will be alright.
You walked back, feeling like you were floating, but not anywhere near the same way that you had the previous few days. It did not feel like you were weightless, on a cloud, free of worry or from the world. You were drifting. Far out into the abyss with nothing to hold on to. In this same state, you walked over to the wardrobe, where you had hung your dress, removed the item of clothing you had on and put on the old and tethered garment. It had once fit you like a glove, but you were far from the person it was measured for.
Just as you finished putting it on, the door opened, and Eddie walked in. 
You didn’t want to look at him. Not because of anger, you had, after all, no reason to be angry at him at that moment, but because you were sure that if you looked into those brown irises again, you would break down. He must have had the same idea as you as he walked past you, only grabbing the nearest shirt off the rack, and making a headway to the desk.
‘What are you going to do now?’ After all, that had been what pulled you two together, the money your father would offer for your return. That is what kept you on this ship safe for as long as it did… although, in retrospect, you doubted that Eddie would have ever done anything to you. Maybe he had always intended to bring you home before even speaking to you. Perhaps the money made no difference. But funnily enough, you wanted him to get it. Something in you, a deep instinct, told you that it was what he deserved.
‘Write a random note,’ he said, and you could see he was doing his best not to laugh. ‘Then we’ll send the note out, hope it reaches your dearest, and we’ll make the exchange.’ His words were quick and emotionless, but you noted the hint of novice apprehension in his plan.
‘You’ve never done this before, have you?’ you asked as you made your way up to the chair across from him.
‘Try not to sound too disappointed over my lack of experience in selling beautiful maidens back to their prosperous fathers.’
‘Not at all,’ you shook your head, grabbing the piece of parchment and quill from him. ‘But let me. It will be proof of life, and besides, your handwriting is unrecognisable. He won’t be able to read any of it.’ 
Eddie stared at you blankly as you began writing. 
Dear father, 
But what were you to write? The ink dripped off the quill as you pondered on the words. For a message that was quite clear, it was hard to actually phrase it and write it out. By the time you had signed your name at the bottom of the page, the Hellfire had almost reached the coast. You read it through once more: 
Dear Father, 
I know it has been a long time since you last heard from me. The Red Tail is no more; I was the only survivor, to my knowledge, saved by a crew of rogue sailors. They have kept me locked away but are willing to free me for the price of 5.000 pounds. Please meet me at noon at the Star Port for the exchange.
Love, 
Your daughter, 
You had decided against the mention of piracy or anything specific about the ship’s sinking, knowing that it would only drive your father away from pain the ransom. Eddie had been unable to keep still while you wrote your drafts but now stood behind you, hands on the backrest of your chair, reading the note along with you, over your shoulder.
‘Who would have thought, my darling extorting her own father.’
‘I am doing no such thing!’ You looked up at him, ‘I am simply… aiding you in extorting my father.’ when it came to this, you had little sympathy for your father. He had plenty of money to spare and often spent it on ridiculous causes. A faux rescue of his only daughter could surely fit in between those other purchases.
There was a knock on the door, which Eddie welcomed, and Harrington walked in. 
‘Got any mail for me to deliver, cap?’ it had been unanimously agreed that Harrington was the most inconspicuous of the whole crew and would be able to walk through the city unbothered to deliver the message. 
You had just been in the middle of folding the parchment. The last thing left was to let the wax melt to keep the corners together. With the seal done, you handed Steve the letter. He smiled at you with thanks, but his face hid an expression of loss, almost. A farewell. But before he left, you clutched him in an embrace, almost knocking Steve over.
When the door closed behind him, it was only a matter of waiting. After your fifth round of pacing through the room, Eddie walked up in front of you, blocking your already quite well-outlined route. He had met you right in the middle. 
‘I would prefer if you did not spend our last moments together walking holes into my carpet.’ 
‘You do not have a carpet,’ you quipped. 
‘Must you be so difficult now?’ He laughed that laugh you cherished so much before he placed his hands on your cheeks and kissed you the way you adored even more. The sun was almost at its peak, and so was your heart, and you had no idea what to do when it would finally fall. Either way, you would find out in a few minutes.
‘Do you think—’ 
‘Highly doubtful,’ Eddie said somberly before you could even finish your thought. ‘You had said it yourself, darling; you are you, I am me. This is not meant to work.’ But what if it could, you wanted to shout, shocking yourself for the millionth time on board this ship.
‘Well, then it had been an honour being your captive, captain.’ You said with a deep breath to keep your composure up.
‘Oh, don’t look so sad just yet, princess, the real fun is only about to begin.’ At this statement, you blinked slowly. ‘Or did you think you were done aiding me?’
‘What else do you need me to do?’ 
‘Since you mentioned it, I think we need to make you look the part of my sweet captive. Make your father believe we really had kept you all good and locked up, hmm?’ He grinned. ‘I really did not do a good job at this, did I? Got you all spoiled up here.’
‘It was much appreciated.’ You giggled, incapable of keeping a straight face when Eddie got like this. Looking back, you could barely imagine the cold and dark exterior that he had once posed in front of you since he had been an entirely different person underneath that. Then again, so were you. ‘So, what did you have in mind?’
‘A lot,’ he licked his lips, ‘but I don’t think we have the time for that. We’ll probably have to do with tying you up like a pretty gift—just your hands, of course,’ he quickly added as he saw your eyes widen. ‘And I’ll be sure to not make it too tight.
‘Alright,’ you nodded. After all, you trusted him. You watched him look through the room for something to wrap around your hands. In the end, he found a piece of rope hanging among the many items on his wall. It was a bit too long for even the intricate, but relatively weak, knot he tied over your wrists—enough to give the impression of captivity, but in reality, barely grazed your wrists. He made sure to check. 
And then it was time. You walked out of the cabin for the final time. The room in which you had spent so many tumultuous days and nights. A silly part of you wanted to actually run down the ladder into the lower deck to see the holding cell one last time. For what reason, you could not fathom. 
Eddie guided you with a hand on your back, down the gangplank, which wobbled with every step you took. You tried to keep your breathing under control, but then again, if this had been a real threat to your life, you would probably feel similarly. The walk down the harbour was the longest of your life. There just came no end to it, and you could not, frustratingly enough, make your mind up if you wanted that or not. After all, each step closer to the port was one step further away from him… and when had you become so dependent on him? Weeks ago, you had thought up visions of killing him in his sleep; now, you could not think of life without him. 
Your thoughts were still fighting for some kind of cohesion when you saw him walk down the street. Accompanied by his usual entourage of guards. Two of them carried a large trunk between them, which must have been filled with gold or other treasures to meet the demand.
‘Papa!’ You screamed out; an incautious urge to run towards him propelled you forward, just to be pulled back by Eddie. You glanced his way, and your breath hitched at what you saw. In the short amount of time that might have felt like an eternity that it took you to walk down the harbour, he had turned into what you could only describe as his old self. The same version of him that you had seen when you were “welcomed’ aboard the Hellfire. The Eddie that terrorised your nightmares. His eyes were pointed like daggers at your father. 
He, in turn, stood aback at the sight of who had been holding you. Most of the men around him did, in fact. It caused a bit of a stir, the murmur of his name travelled in disbelief, but Eddie was the first to speak up in full volume.
‘Governor. I see we meet again.’
‘Munson.’ Your father always had the skill to look unimpressed at the sight of any man, always seeming to be above them, and even now, he did a good job hiding any other emotion, but you could see the crack of fear breaking him on the edges. It was, however, quickly replaced as he spoke in his usual tone of business.
‘Munson. What are you doing here?’
‘Why, returning your precious jewel, of course.’ He grinned, pulling you closer to him. Some of the guards leapt forward but were stopped by your father and Eddie, who reached for the knife at his side. All eyes were on you and him as he let the blade slowly track over your arm. ‘Don’t wanna do that, gents. It will only cost us more trouble.’ 
‘You got the gold, Munson, now let her go!’ There were still several feet between the two sides of the deal. Eddie looked around theatrically. 
‘Do I?’ He cocked his head in his own direction. The two men in charge of the trunk hauled it over to you. You had no idea how Eddie was meant to carry it back to the ship. As they brought the gold over, your father spoke again. 
‘Is she well? Unharmed?’ 
You nodded, but Eddie nudged you with the hilt of his knife, his lips against your ear, ‘C’mon, darling, the man’s asked you a question.’
‘I am fine, father.’ You spoke. By that point, the men reached you and, with a final kiss to your temple, Eddie let you go. You were immediately pulled out of his reach by the guards. They must have thought they were holding you up as your legs objected to moving. You were unable to look away from him. All up until you felt your face pressed against your father’s jacket. 
‘There, there, it is alright,’ he hushed, and it took you a moment to realise why. You were crying. And if only he, or anyone else, understood that it was for all the opposite reasons. No fear or relief was escaping you through those tears. It was a loss as you saw Eddie standing there, bowing down at the end of his performance, blowing you a kiss goodbye.
It was the panic when you saw the rest of the people in the harbour. All of their eyes on you. On him. None of them were simple bystanders or civilians. 
Your dream had been crumbling into ruin all these days, but this was the final blow. All of it came down, all at once, and it started with your father’s call.
‘Guards!’, and suddenly the tenfold of guards appeared out of all possible directions. They had him surrounded, weapons at the ready. Eddie had nowhere to run. Your father spoke clearly, cutting the silence with the blade of his words. ‘Munson, I arrest you on charges of murder and high treason!’ 
Chapter 10
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ckret2 · 7 months
Text
Chapter 14 of Human Bill Is A Prisoner And Only Mabel Is Being Nice To Him (real title TBD), and the conclusion of the first big plot arc:
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Also featuring: what Pacifica has been up to the past year! Dipper and Mabel arguing about Bill! The hand witch, briefly! Funny pranks that Ford does not think are funny! And other things.
####
Dipper and Mabel waved goodbye as they left the Hand Witch's cave. The witch, her boyfriend, and Mabel's spare right hand on the witch's shoulder waved back.
"Thanks for helping us out on such short notice," Dipper said.
"Oh, any time!" the witch said. "Come back whenever you like! I'll make tea and snacks again."
"Girl, you know I'm always up for more of your..." Mabel flashed the witch a pair of finger guns and a wink, "... finger food!"
Her spare hand made a finger gun back. The witch laughed so hard she wheezed. Her boyfriend leaned down to pat her back.
As Mabel and Dipper wove their way down the Hand Witch's mountain, Mabel said, "It's good to see she's found a relationship. She seems happy! And less desperate."
"I dunno, I'm kind of worried about that guy. What if he's just using her to learn her handomancy secrets?"
"Naaah, I'm not worried about him. He's a really bad apprentice. I think he's just letting her train him as a bonding activity. Like when girls let their boyfriends explain football so they can watch games together." Mabel turned to peer at the dark cave above. "Do you think Alehandra will be lonely without me?"
"Wh—you already named it?"
"Hands come in pairs, Dipper. Maybe she'd like a twin sister." She looked at Dipper's hands. "Or brother."
"Oh no. Uh-uh, I can see where this is going. We've already gotten in enough trouble with that stuff."
Mabel's phone buzzed. They must have gotten near enough town to get reception again. She pulled out her phone, saw a text from Soos, and swiped it open. "Mabel, this is Ford..."
"Speaking of growing extra hands," Dipper said. "Mabel... I think this whole thing is a bad idea. I mean—worse than it was originally. Getting Bill magic hair growth formula is one thing, but, growing extra limbs? I don't know what he could do with that, but he could do something."
Mabel's thumbs hovered over the screen, paralyzed as she tried to figure out what to tell Ford and Dipper at the same time.
The truth was, she'd had the same worry as Dipper. She lowered her phone. "Yeah, okay, maybe he could possibly do something with it hypothetically—but clearly the whole reason he asked for it was for the hair growth part! Because he's bald. So maybe he just... doesn't care about the rest? If we get only enough Hairy Fairy to regrow his hair and use it all up, then he won't have a chance to use it for anything evil, right?"
"Unless he's not even interested in regrowing his hair." Dipper pulled off his backpack and rummaging through it until he found the advertisement Ford had given him. "Look, everything in this ad lines up with what Bill told us about Hairy Fairy's history. If he knew that much, he definitely could know it can grow extra limbs. He might have even known it was coming back on the market before he saw the commercial! What if the only reason he burned off his hair was to manipulate us into getting this formula?"
"What would he do with a bunch of extra body parts?" Mabel asked. "He's clumsy enough with the ones he already has. I kinda think more would make him weaker."
"I don't know, but—I didn't know what he wanted a 'puppet' for, either, and see how that turned out?"
Mabel bit her lip, looking at Dipper's face—and then looked down at her phone, rereading the last sentence of Ford's text. "I'm worried he might be up to something nefarious."
She couldn't have this conversation in two places at once. She typed a quick reply to Ford—"It's too complicated to explain in text! I'll tell you when Dipper and I get home. (It's NOT dangerous, don't worry!) ❤️"—and stuffed her phone in her pocket. "Okay," she said. "Look. Sure, it makes sense to be extra paranoid with Bill—especially when we saw him finish his big master plan last summer—but honestly? I kinda don't think he's that good. Think about how many times Grunkle Ford says he tried and failed to get into our universe! I don't think he's a big alien super-genius with a careful zillion-year plan; I think he's just some guy that needed to try a zillion years just to get one plan to work. And that's... kind of lame. What can a guy like that do with hair formula?"
Dipper absorbed that. "Wow. Yeah, actually, when you put it that way, that—that isn't very impressive." He grimaced. "But—okay, even if he didn't have a complicated escape plan, what if he saw the hair formula and thought of one that he needs extra arms for—?"
"Dipper, we can 'but what if' Bill forever!" She flung out her hands in frustration. "If we second-guess everything he says, we'll start wondering stuff like 'what if he wants us to distrust him so he can reverse-psychology us into doing the thing he actually wants?' It'll drive us crazy! And letting Bill drive us crazy won't make us safer! We can't spend another summer being paranoid about Evil Bill Tricks!"
"Okay yeah, you have a point, but—why is the solution 'do what he wants'? Why isn't it 'tell him no, and cover our ears whenever he tries to say he wants something so we don't even know what he wants and he can't manipulate us'?"
Mabel's mind flashed back to the sad ghost under the zodiac blanket, huddled in a dusty corner. She looked at her feet and kicked a clump of grass self-consciously. "Because... he's sad and it's making me sad."
Dipper groaned. "Mabel."
"I know—"
"Mabel, he could be acting sad on purpose—"
"I know he could, I know, I KNOW!" Mabel let out all her accumulated Bill-induced frustration in a scream that startled several birds out of a nearby tree. She jumped furiously on the clump of grass. "He probably thinks I'm a big soft sucker! He's the worst and I hate him so much!"
"YES!" Dipper aimed a kick at the grass clump. "He's the worst ever! It's his fault we're even having this argument!"
"This summer was supposed to be different!"
"No apocalypses, no murder attempts, and no demon triangles!"
"No triangles at ALL! I don't even like geometry!"
When they'd collaboratively destroyed the grass clump, they fell silent, breathing heavily, staring at the upturned dirt. "I needed that," Mabel said. After a moment, she knelt down and tried to set the mangled grass back upright. The grass did nothing to deserve this.
Dipper leaned against a tree. "So. Are we giving up on the hair stuff?"
Mabel carefully patted a mound of dirt around what was left of the base of the grass. "I... still wanna go through with it."
Dipper had used up all his frustration on the grass. He sighed. "If you're gonna get that stuff for Bill no matter what I say, then... why are you trying to talk me into it?"
"Because I'm not going to do it. Not unless you agree."
"You... what?"
"Dipper, I feel like this is the right thing to do—but that's why I need to know what you think. The last time we didn't talk things out, the world almost ended! We always make better decisions together than we do apart. If I can't say anything that makes you think it's worth the risk, then—I'll give up. I'll tell Bill we couldn't get the stuff, and offer to get him a discount wig after Summerween, and... that's it." Mabel shrugged. "I'm scared too. I keep wondering stuff like 'what if he gives himself leg stilts and climbs out the chimney? What if he grows seven fingers and can finally overpower Ford?' But that's stupid."
She looked up at Dipper. "I want to make sure that if we give up, it's because there really is a danger. I don't want to refuse to help somebody suffering just because we're scared of him."
Dipper slid down to sit on the grass and watch Mabel give the grass clump first aid. Once Mabel was satisfied enough to sit back and wipe her hands off on her skirt, Dipper said, "Yeah. I am scared of him. He's tricked me with some misleading wording before, and I don't want it to happen again. I want to say I'm just being logical, but... right now, maybe I'm doing more feeling than thinking, too." He shrugged. "The truth is, I can't think of anything he could do with the hair growth formula that isn't so ridiculous, even I don't believe it's possible."
Mabel nodded. "Are you scared enough to say 'no'? If you are, we'll quit."
"No, I'm not." Dipper heaved a sigh. "I guess... let's do it. But I want to be as careful as possible. We'll get just barely enough to regrow his hair, one of us will apply the formula so he can't misuse it—"
"I can do that," Mabel said. "I've already slathered like a whole bucket of yellow paint on his face."
"Okay. And I'll watch the whole time as backup, in case he tries anything."
"Barty can watch from the vents as the backup-backup, too!"
"Good idea."
"Boom! Flawless plan!" Mabel grinned. "Now let's go see Pacifica!"
####
The address Pacifica had given them led to a small fenced-in pasture outside town.
Over the main gate was a sign that read "Platinum Alpaca Estates".
In the pasture, a half dozen pink-collar-wearing alpacas placidly grazed.
And standing in front of it all—wearing immaculately tailored lavender overalls, a set of white rhinestone-studded boots and cowboy hat, and a nervous smile—was Pacifica.
Dipper and Mabel gaped.
Dipper said, "What the— What is—"
"Pacifica what."
Pacifica held up her hands. "Okay wait, just let me explain! After my family lost our mansion last year, I could only keep one horse? Which was devastating! I needed to fill the void of hoofed mammals in my life somehow."
Mabel leaned over the fence. "So you got alpacas?"
"I was actually inspired by the llama sweater you gave me." Pacifica gave Mabel a small, crooked smile. "It reminded me that I've always secretly thought alpacas are cute, and I really like alpaca wool goods, so I thought... you know... what if I try it out?" She opened the gate, gesturing for the twins to follow her toward a small barn. "And I actually really love it! These are like, my babies. And I'm talking with some fashion brands about maybe selling them some luxury wool?"
She led them into the barn, and then into a small office being cooled by a window A/C unit. Several wool garments, protected in glass cases, were proudly displayed on the walls with labels underneath: "First Sweater", "First Scarf", "First Blanket"—
"Hey!" Mabel pointed at the familiar blanket, creamy white with the anti-Bill zodiac in ochre yellow. "That's the one I made! Did the yarn you sent me to make it come from your alpacas?"
"It did! You're the first person to make anything with their wool."
"Whoa."
"I actually want to use my symbol from the circle as our brand. I'm waiting to hear from my copyright lawyer about who I need to talk to for the rights to the image—if it's you or your great-uncle, or if it's still with the tribe that left the valley like a thousand years ago, or if it's public domain," Pacifica said. "It's a vague enough shape, I think it could look like either a llama or an alpaca, right?"
Mabel considered what Bill had said about Pacifica's symbol, considered the small alpaca herd visible through the office window, and said, "I have it on good authority that it's supposed to be an alpaca."
"So, wait," Dipper said. "What does this have to do with your modeling job?"
"The ranch isn't turning a profit yet. I'm still in talks with the brands that want our wool, and in the meantime I've got to hire more people to help. I don't know the hard stuff about taking care of alpacas, I just kind of brush their wool and make friends with them while my employees do the hard stuff."
Dipper snorted.
"Hey! I'm learning! But I've only been doing this a few months." Pacifica sank down into her desk chair, propping her chin in her hands. "Almost all my allowance and side gig income is going toward my alpacas. My parents don't want to invest in my startup!" She pouted. "They said if I want to act like a rancher instead of a socialite, it'll be on my own dime."
"So that's why you're working two summer jobs?" Dipper said. "Oh, man. I should have known something was up. I thought it was weird when you said your parents wouldn't pay for a spring and summer wardrobe."
"Yeah, I spent my spring wardrobe budget on this barn," Pacifica said. "I figure I'm investing in my future wardrobe, you know?"
Mabel planted her hands on Pacifica's desk. "Pacifica, I can see how important this is. I've run a business myself—I appreciate the pressure you're under. But, how about this: we could help each other! If you get us a tiiiny bit of that formula, I'll come over once a week for the rest of summer to help out with your alpacas. For free!"
Pacifica blinked. "What?"
"And that way, even if you do get in trouble and lose your Hairy Fairy job, you'll still have someone to help you out!"
Dipper's eyes widened. "Um—Pacifica, could you give us a moment?" He grabbed Mabel's elbow and tugged her out of the office.
"What is it?"
Dipper whispered, "Are you sure you wanna make that kind of commitment for the rest of summer? For Bill's sake?"
"Dipperrr, it's like working in a petting zoo!" She gestured toward the office window. "Look at how soft they are!"
"Oh, boy."
"And maybe I could get some luxury alpaca wool! I'm gonna have the fanciest sweaters."
Dipper grimaced, but decided Mabel would probably have looked for an excuse to spend time around the alpacas regardless of the situation. "Okay. Have at her." He nodded back toward the office.
When Mabel and Dipper came back in, Pacifica was sitting up straighter, hands laced on her desk, a miniature businesswoman entertaining a business proposal. "I appreciate the offer," Pacifica said. "But I don't think a few hours of labor a week balance out the profits I could make at my modeling job. It just doesn't make financial sense. I'm sorry, Mabel. I've got to think of my alpacas."
"I understand. But—I've got to think of my not-friend. If you could just see..." She trailed off as a thought occurred to her. "Dipper! Let me get in your backpack."
"Um, okay—?"
Mabel rummaged around in the main pouch. "I'm sure we left it... Ha!" She slapped down a ziplock bag containing the lock of Bill's hair that they'd collected to make his poppet. "This... is the person I'm trying to help." She crossed her arms triumphantly. "Okay, not the person, but it's his hair anyway."
Pacifica's brows shot up. "Oh, wow." She opened the bag and carefully extracted a few strands to examine. "This is the most golden golden hair I've ever seen. And look at it. Little oily, could use a good conditioner, damaged roots, but otherwise amazing health, no split ends..." Pacifica looked at Mabel, pointed at the baggie, and asked, "Virgin?"
Mabel laughed nervously. "I have no idea and I never ever want to find out."
"No! I mean is this the natural color and texture, or has it been treated?"
"Oh. I'm pretty sure it just came like that?" She looked at Dipper.
Dipper shrugged. "I mean, probably? I doubt he hit up a salon before coming to the Mystery Shack."
"And... you say he had a bad haircut?" Pacifica asked. "What does he look like now?"
Gently, Mabel said, "Bald."
Pacifica let out the softest gasp. "Okay. I get it. I'll help. And also send over a couple of conditioner samplers, because whoever your friend is, he has not been taking care of his hair lately. Natural beauty can only carry him so far. I'll have the conditioners overnighted to your shack."
"Great!" A wide smile broke out across Mabel's face. "Thank you so much, Pacifica! And the formula, too?"
"Actually, I can give you that right now." Pacifica pulled a small green Hairy Fairy bottle from one of her overall pockets.
Mabel gasped in delight. Dipper said, "Wait, you had that the whole time?"
"When we escaped the country club, I accidentally still had the bottle we'd used for the live demonstration in my pocket," Pacifica said. "I was going to replace it tomorrow morning before anyone goes looking for it; I'll just give you guys a few drops and make up the difference with a little alpaca shampoo. Hopefully, nobody will notice the difference."
Mabel said, "Pacifica, you're the best!"
"I know." Pacifica leaned across the desk to put a hand on Mabel's shoulder. "Just promise me one thing."
"Sure! What?"
"I won't be able to do this a second time," Pacifica said. "So you'd better make sure your friend takes care of his hair."
####
Bill squinted at the chocolate chip-sized dollop of lotion at the bottom of the quart-sized plastic food container. "Gotta hand it to you, Shooting Star. This is the funniest way you could have transported the formula."
"We forgot to bring anything to put it in." Mabel snapped on a pair of yellow dish gloves and pointed at the kitchen floor. "Okay! Sit down so I can reach and let me work my magic."
"What, don't think I can handle it myself?" But he sat down even as he protested. He'd already removed his cardboard triangle helmet—which now sat, battered and bent, on the kitchen table—and had washed off his paint/makeup as well as he could without requesting shower access.
Mabels scooped the dollop of lotion onto one gloved finger, then massaged it across her fingertips. "I'm your official makeup artist now! I've gotta do it. Besides, you missed a chunk of hair when you were removing it, you'd probably miss a chunk when you were putting it back on."
"Eh, fair enough. Okay kid, do your worst."
As Mabel coated Bill's scalp, the chemical burns he'd given himself while removing his hair vanished, replaced with new healthy skin—and Dipper quietly lamented, once again, that this stuff was being marketed to grow hair and not regrow limbs. He'd have to document it thoroughly in his journal later.
Dipper was sitting at the bottom of the attic stairs, watching the proceedings in the kitchen, armed with Mabel's grappling gun to use as a projectile weapon if Bill dared try anything. But Bill just sat there, legs crossed with his feet on his thighs and his hands palm-up on his knees like he was meditating, not even turning his head as Mabel worked.
Mabel jerked her hands back in surprise as a fresh layer of golden hair sprang out of Bill's scalp—then quickly reached in again, massaging the lotion into all the strands and coaxing them out until they were all around shoulder length, the same as they'd started. "There! Ta-da! Good as new!"
As the hair crawled down Bill's temples, tickled his ears, brushed his cheeks, he squeezed his eyes shut as tight as he could and clenched his jaw, straining hard to keep from moving. His open hands curled into fists. Dipper raised the grappling hook. But when Bill turned to face Mabel, he was all grins again, and if Dipper hadn't known to look for it he wouldn't have noticed the anxious tic in Bill's eyebrow. "Well? How do I look?"
"Gorgeous! If the real Goldilocks saw you, she'd have to change her name in shame."
"Ha! That's what I like to hear!" Bill un-pretzeled his legs and stood up. "And you did it without giving me any spare eyebrows, too." So he did know about the side-effects.
"Oh, pfff, yeah, I'm not lowering my guard around that stuff again. The first time I opened a bottle, I got some on me and grew an extra hand!"
"No! Really?" Bill gave Mabel's gloved hands a skeptical look. "Where's it now?"
"I donated it to the Hand Witch."
"Ahh, pity. You could've had some fun with your temporary crown."
"'Crown'?"
"Most fingers in the household?"
Mabel's eyes bugged out, and then a manic smile took over her face, as if her brain had just been flooded with more glee than her face could process. She yanked off the gloves, hastily rubbed them on her left wrist, and shouted, "GRUNKLE FOOORD!" She sprinted through the entryway and took the turn down the hallway so fast she ran a couple steps up on the wall before landing back on the floor. "Grunkle Ford, guess what!"
Dipper almost followed her—until he caught Bill moving in the corner of his eye, bending down to pick up the discarded gloves. Dipper raised the grappling hook. What was Bill planning to do with them—use the remainder to mutate himself? Save them to use later? Eat them—?
Bill dropped the gloves in the plastic container the lotion had come in, sealed the lid, and dropped them in the kitchen waste bin. Under his breath, he muttered, "The last thing I need is the pig sniffing this and growing an extra snout." He paused. "Wait. That would be funny."
From the other side of the house, Ford's voice bellowed, "BILL!"
Bill's head snapped around to face the kitchen doorway—and for the first time he glanced at Dipper sitting on the stairs. "Hey. What do you bet he didn't even let Mabel explain before deciding this is my fault?"
"Uh..."
Mabel and Ford's approach could be tracked through Mabel's hasty explanation: "Grunkle Ford, it's just a prank! I'm okay, see? I'm gonna donate Mirhanda to the Hand Witch, it'll be fine—"
The moment Ford saw Bill, he made a beeline for him and seized him by his t-shirt collar. "What did you do to her?! Answer me, Cipher!"
"I didn't! I'm innocent! I plea the fifth! I've been falsely accused! I was framed! Mercy!" The sincerity of his pleas was somewhat undermined by the fact that he couldn't stop laughing the whole time Ford was trying to menace him. His too-wide gleeful smile looked a lot like Mabel's.
####
"Okay, Pacifica," the director said. "This commercial is for the teen market, so we want you to talk to the camera like you're talking to your peers, all right? And by that, I don't mean your real peers. I mean the slightly less rich girls who would do anything you asked to be considered one of your peers."
"Don't worry, I've got this," Pacifica said. She positioned herself on her stool, hands laced over her knees, and said, "Ready when you are."
"And... action!"
Pacifica gave the camera her best haughty-but-not-too-haughty look, the one that said maybe if you say something interesting to me I'll double your social standing for fun, and launched into her memorized lines: "Hey, I'm Pacifica Northwest—you all know me, most of you probably want to be me. Listen, girls: have you ever tried to go short and it just didn't work out? Maybe that pixie cut makes your ears look weird, maybe those bangs are not for you. If you wish you looked as great as me, I have just the thing for you..."
Everything continued as normal, until Harry's Hairy Fairy Formula was applied to her hair... and nothing happened. Pacifica stumbled over a word, and then kept going, as if maybe no one would notice if she didn't draw attention to it. As she was wrapping up her monologue, her hair finally... slowly started growing... and stopped at half its usual length. Pacifica bit her lip.
"Pacifica!"
She winced and turned toward her boss, feigning a look of innocent surprise. "Yes, Mr. Haroldson?"
"What did you put in your hair! You know you're not supposed to have any product in your hair on shoot days!"
"Nothinggg! I've been following my hair care instructions perfectly! And I had it rinsed just before the shoot like always!"
"Well—what's the problem, then?" Mr. Haroldson turned to the hazmat-suited hairdresser holding the formula bottle.
"I don't know." He took off his mask. "This is the same sample bottle we used at the country club demonstration, it should be fine..." He took a sniff of it, and grimaced. "What...? That's not our usual fragrance, is it?" Mr. Haroldson leaned over to sniff as well.
She'd been found out. She was doomed. Her poker face collapsed like a house of cards. "Okay fine I took a few drops for a friend and maybe replaced it with a little bit of shampoo, so what!" She pointed at Mr. Haroldson. "What are you gonna do about it, huh? Fire me? Go ahead, see if I care! I can get a million better modeling jobs in a week!"
Mr. Haroldson's expression darkened in rage—and then he said, "Pacifica, you're a genius!"
"Huh?"
"Watering it down! Of course! We can sell unaltered bottles to hook new customers and then stretch out our supply by giving repeat customers the weak stuff—we'll tell them that it's less effective if they're overusing it! We can keep up that scam for years, it's not like the FDA is regulating this stuff! Why, we could even make a whole new product!" He turned to wave at an assistant, "Call R&D, get R&D on the phone—we'll make a formula designed to grow short hair. We can call it... Pixie Dust Pixie Cuts! It's all thanks to you, Pacifica!" He beamed at her.
She beamed back.
He said, "You're not getting credit or a raise though."
"Pshhh, obviously. I know how this industry works."
"All right, back to work." He pointed at the director. "Crack open a new bottle and let's wrap this up ASAP. I've got to schedule some meetings about the new product line."
####
"Well, he didn't grow himself eight arms," Dipper said, sitting cross-legged on his bed. He was going over a map of Gravity Falls he'd taken from the gift shop, circling locations of potential paranormal activity he wanted to investigate over the summer. Bill-tainted places got an additional triangle. "And I took out the kitchen trash to make sure Bill couldn't go back for the formula later. I guess he wasn't up to anything after all." He paused. "... Unless he wanted the formula in our trash, and now it's multiplying the garbage or getting picked up by some sleeper agent outside the shack—"
"Stooop," Mabel said. She was carefully coloring in a green bottle of Harry's Hairy Fairy Formula in Dipper's journal; Dipper had started entrusting his journal's art duties to Mabel whenever they went on a joint investigation. "We can't start thinking like that! Remember, our therapist told us that paranoia is a natural coping mechanism for dealing with scary situations, but trusting people is healthy and a sign of healing!" She set down the journal so she could emphasize the word "healing" with jazz hands.
"I think that's supposed to apply to trusting normal people."
"Yeah, but still." The journal flipped a few pages as she picked it back up, and her eyes were caught by scribbles in bright highlighter yellow. "Hey, what's this new stuff? Did you make up a secret code to keep notes in? Can I learn?"
"Ugh. No, Bill did that. I left my journal out and he wrote a bunch of secret messages. It's probably telling me how I'm going to die or the names of all the girls who will reject me or something."
"Pff, probably. Have you shown Grunkle Ford? Maybe he knows it."
"Not yet. He's been too busy."
"Right..." And now, she was sure, he was probably mad at her personally for worrying him with the hand prank.
Mabel flipped through a few more pages, looking at the bright yellow notes. She glanced toward the window, scanning the trees outside. She sighed and got up, leaving Dipper's journal on her bed.
"What's up?"
"Now you've got me worrying about sleeper agents. I'm gonna make sure the gloves are still in the trash."
When she'd confirmed all the garbage was right where it was supposed to be and came back in the shack, she spotted Bill in the living room. He was scrunched up on one side of the sofa as close to the doorway as he could get, watching TV. He glanced over as she shut the front door and flashed a grin. "Hey, Shooting Star. What're you up to?"
Ah, great. They were on casual chit-chat terms now. She edged toward the doorway but stayed outside the living room—sorry, not staying long—and said, "Oh, you know, just—looking at... the outdoors." Before he could dig further, she changed the topic. "So! How's that hair working out for you?"
"Ah." His smile wilted and his glance drifted back toward the TV. (He seemed to be watching the local news. Mabel decided he must've been really bored.) "Well, hair's still the worst thing that's ever grown on me and I still see a human in the mirror—but at least it's a human with a vaguely triangular silhouette. I can live with being back where I started."
"Sorry we couldn't come up with a real solution." As glad as she was to finish her obligation to Bill, she hated that all her efforts hadn't even really helped. Some problem-solver she was.
"Yeah, well. You can't build a pyramid out of meat. You did the best you could." Bill turned to fully face Mabel. "But, hey—listen." He had one eye squeezed shut but the other one stared her down with the intensity of a spotlight, paralyzing her in place. "Even if it's not perfect, I appreciate the effort you put in."
"Hey, it's no big deal. Crafts are my whole thing! It was kinda fun."
"No, I'm serious," Bill said. "I know I'm the town bogeyman, and everyone's only putting up with me until they find the easiest way to obliterate me. But you did a lot more than just 'put up with me.' And, well—don't tell the others I said this," he rolled his eye toward the hall to the rest of the house, and lowered his voice, "but... it's been a long time since anybody's treated me with a little kindness. Longer than you can imagine. I think I'd forgotten what it feels like. Even if I don't have much time left to enjoy it—I'm grateful for the reminder, kid."
Mabel's eyes widened. "Bill, that..." A lump formed in her throat. How long had it been? As big a jerk as he was—centuries? Millennia?
She darted into the living room, squeezed Bill in a hug before he could protest, and then bolted up the stairs two at a time.
And Bill thought to himself, got her.
Humans were so easy. Once you figured out what they wanted to believe in, you could make them do anything you wanted.
Mabel wanted to believe that everyone everywhere yearned to be friends with everyone else, and that the only thing holding them back was the defensive walls they built around their emotions. Mabel wanted to see people's walls come down. Mabel wanted every social problem to be simple enough that even a child could solve it if they were earnest and honest enough.
Mabel shouldn't have let Bill watch Color Critters. It told him too much about the kind of world she idealized. He had that kid completely figured out—
There was a loud pounding as Mabel leaped back down the stairs three at a time. "On your feet!" She grabbed Bill's hands and tugged him off the sofa, then wrapped a measuring tape around his hips.
He twisted around in bewilderment as she circled him, now measuring his chest. "What—?"
"Face forward! Arms out from your sides!" She measured his shoulder span, then grabbed one arm to measure the length. "I'll be back later. I've got work to do. Do not come upstairs!"
Bill leaned out the doorway to watch her bunny-hop back up to the attic.
Okay, he had that kid mostly figured out.
Well, the odd quirks just made her a little more interesting than the average human. The important thing was that, whether she knew it or not, she wanted Bill to be her friend. She wanted to be the horse girl who tamed the hostile bronco, the beauty who saved the beast. She wanted monsters to swear their loyalty to cute spunky protagonists, and she thought she was a protagonist.
The "reformed bad boy" was outside of the usual characters he played—he was better as the ancient teacher, the playful trickster, the divine messenger—but it was an easy enough role, and it gave him plenty of room to misbehave while staying in character. It's so hard to change my old ways—but maybe it would be easier if you give me another chance, if you help me, if you do this one little thing for me...
There was a fun little quirk of human psychology that was so well-known they'd even given their own name to it: the Foot-In-The-Door Technique. Once you get a human to do you one small, tiny little favor, they'll be more likely to do you another, bigger favor later. Borrow a dollar today and they'll be more likely to let you borrow a hundred dollars next week. Ask them to drive you to the auto shop and you'll have a better chance of asking them to help you move. Get them to bring you a little hair solution, and... well, Bill would just have to wait and see what he wanted next.
As long as everything Bill asked for was harmless, there was nothing the warier members of the household could do to intervene without making themselves look like the unreasonable ones. And by the time Bill started asking for anything dangerous, he'd have Mabel eating out of the palm of his hand, and she'd have no idea until it was too late that she didn't mean a thing to him—
####
Bill stared dumbly in the mirror at the yellow yarn hoodie. "H—Did you just make this?" With his arms at his sides, from the shoulders down, it looked like a decapitated triangle. 
"I used velvet yarn for your brick pattern," Mabel said. "It makes the lines stand out more! And I cut one of Dipper's bow ties in half to make the hood's drawstring so you can tie it into a bow!"
Wordlessly, Bill tied the bow—it hung in the center of his chest—and then he pulled the hood on, tugging it low over his forehead, completing the triangle. Mabel had put an eye on the hood. She'd even remembered Bill's eyelashes.
"I thought, hey—if the mask was too much, and the hair is too little, maybe a hoodie's just right," Mabel said. "I don't usually make sweaters for people—sweater curse, blarrr, you know—but, this one time, I thought it was important." She gave Bill a nervous smile. "So... what do you think? Do you like it?"
Bill stared at his reflection. It was hideous, misshapen, and alien, but it was almost himself.
He looked at Mabel. He got down on his knees. He put a hand on her shoulder. He said, "I will kill one enemy of yours, for free, no questions asked, in any way you want."
Mabel blinked. "Please don't do that."
"When I take over the universe I'm giving you your own galaxy."
"I don't—I don't want a galaxy. What would I do with a whole galaxy?"
"A solar system. A planet? Everyone wants their own planet!"
Mabel shook her head.
"Then what do you want?" What the heck do human children like. "Can I show you a magic trick?"
Mabel considered that.
####
"Grunkle Stan, Grunkle Ford!" Mabel ran into the kitchen, pushing Waddles in front of her, breathless with excitement. "Look what I can do!" She held a clear plastic spoon at arm's length, peered through it at Waddles like it was a magnifying glass, and slowly lifted the spoon up. Waddles floated up into the air as well. He snorted in mild bafflement.
Stan's jaw dropped. Ford said, "Ohhh, boy."
Mabel beamed at them both.
####
(This chapter isn't quite as edited as I usually do, because I've been sick this past week but wanted to get it out anyway. Apologies for that and I'd appreciate if you noticed any typos or disjointed sentences! And I'd doubly appreciate any nice comments, I've been having a hell of a week.)
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ambers-archive · 4 months
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Gold Rush
In which Spencer Reid believes meeting you could only be explained by something bigger under the works. pairing: spencer reid x fem!eader
From the moment he met you Spencer just knew. He was suddenly overcome with a deep certainty that transcended his skepticism about love at first sight. For him, it was more than just a fleeting moment; it was an incandescent passionate resonance that developed when he first saw you. Dopamine, serotonin, and oxytocin can only explain so much of his feelings. 
He can't sleep on plane ride, looking at the sunset as the clouds fold onto each other he finds himself reminiscing about you. 
There was much said, yet so much unsaid. 
"Do you believe in fate?" you had asked, looking up at him. 
Just breathing and staring into each other's eyes, you two were curled up together in bed. Spencer likes making eye contact with you, even though he's never been good at it. Furthermore, he doesn't even enjoy shaking hands, so he's not sure how on earth he's managed to intertwine himself with you.
Spencer chuckled skeptically, "Fate? I'm inclined to attribute this meeting to statistical probability and our friends' matchmaking skills." 
You smiled back at him, his skepticism didn't seem to bother you, instead you seemed to intertwine your emotions so easily with your beliefs. 
He studies you and realizes you don't mind your different perspectives. "People just need something to anchor them Doctor Reid."
He's come to the realization that he needed more of what you called him, Doctor Reid.
You continue, "Since there is so much evil in the world, I find myself wanting to cling to something greater. I'm sure you see a lot of incomprehensible things."  
He pauses for a second then says
"Randomness exists because it is impossible to foresee anything with 100% accuracy, at least not in the way we see the world. Yes, although there is randomness at the level of human cognition. I don't think there is any kind of "mover" or "fate." Have you heard of the theory absurdism? It's the idea held by philosophers that there is no purpose or reason in the universe. It claims that people go into conflict with the outside world when they search for significance."
You smile at him again, the same shy smile that has been making Spencer weak all day. 
“I get what you mean, but I like to believe that the universe has a purpose for me. It's as though every moment unfolds with meaning. But, recently, I've found that it’s boring to attribute everything to fate. There's a certain beauty in meeting someone and deliberately choosing them with all your intention."
This time Spencer smiles back at you, it doesn't miss him that you don't interrupt his ramblings. You're so easy to talk to he thinks. He can just get lost in your conversations. 
He pushes a piece of hair out of your face “Would you say our meeting was fate?"
You paused for a second. 
Spencer can't seem to read you as much, but he can infer that you didn't know, he smiles to himself as you're the one speechless this time.  
Spencer likes to think the universe is devoid of meaning he doesn't give much thought to the meaning behind things, but after meeting you he finds himself questioning things. 
Despite the strangeness you feel familiar to him, and your perfume still lingers in his car on the way home. He's racking his brain trying to remember what your laugh sounds like.
He likes to be in the present, but with you, you linger like a tattoo kiss. He closes his eyes and there you are again with your smile. 
The lines between fate and reason began to melt in his head, as there are very few moments he's found himself dumbfounded by the nature of things.
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So it’s looking like we might be getting the ‘AFO gave Tenko his quirk’ theory confirmed and I gotta be honest; I am not in favor. I’m hardly the first to take this position, both before and after this chapter dropped, but if I may attempt to put into words why; it’s that I don't think it can really add anything except reveal postmortem some new way AFO is bad in the best case & handing Deku a potential deus ex machina in the worst case.
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Like, the best case result of such a revelation at this point in the plot is that it's just to make AFO seem more evil by making him the root cause of the Shimura tragedy, except…only in a way that doesn’t even matter. Like, this reveal shouldn’t change any of Tomura’s motivations or talking points; he already knows AFO manipulated him & hates him for that, but he also hates Kotaro, Nana, All Might, and the greater hero society for the role they played in his tragedy, and AFO giving him Decay wouldn’t change how much everyone else I listed deserves that ire. It just means that some of the tragic happenstance of the Shimuras that seemingly could've happened to anyone was instead purposefully cause by that jerk we know.
It’s like if we learned AFO killed Endeavor’s father, leading him down the path to become the domestic abuser we know him as. Thus the tragedy of the Todorokis would also come back to AFO...but y’know…not in anyway that matters. Endeavor, Touya, and everyone else involved still made their choices; AFO’s just the root cause of it all by sheer technicality. How diabolical, I might care if he were still relevant.
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The worst case result of such a revaluation of course is that it gives Deku an unearned & largely uninteresting easy out to solving the problem that is Tomura's rage. Because if AFO gave him Decay, then he's actually the one ultimately responsible for near everything, if not just everything wrong in Tomura's life (even if, again, just by technicality in some areas). Never mind the rolls Kotaro, Nana, All Might, and greater hero society played in it; AFO's the real root cause of it all whose been manipulating Tomura for longer than he even knows, so he should just stop caring about that other stuff.
Plus it'd also mean Tomura doesn't exist to destroy because Decay isn't his true quirk (never mind how that's not why he thinks that & he never even put much stock into that quirk-identity stuff anyway) so he can just stop being a villain now please.
Yeah this all just doesn't seem like the most interesting way for Deku to tackle Tomura's trauma, talking points, or motivations.
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Plus, like a live action Disney movie, the idea's kind of felt like it’s tying up a ‘plot hole’ that didn’t need tying up; that might even work better as a coincidental tragedy. Like; people act like this can’t be just a tragedy, it's too convenient, it has to be some master machination of the grand demon lord who…is already beaten, dead, and doesn’t factor into anyone’s plot lines or themes anymore. At best, to make him seem more evil long after the point we have any reason to care; at worst, to give Deku an easy out (with the side effect of making him seem like a worse hero who can’t save villains in Tomura's position without unique circumstances to make it easy).
Also like a live action Disney movie, this almost feels like it opens up a plot hole in trying to tie one up. Because as we know; Tenko’s circumstances are identical to Eri’s, down to the signs of their quirks being random mutations. When I said the tragic happenstance of the Shimuras we're blaming AFO for could've happened to anyone; I know this because it happened verbatim to her. So if those circumstances (just so happening to get a deadly quirk that kills their families, which just so happen to be connected to the villain who'll use & abuse them, etc.) are seen as suspicious, early signs that AFO gave Tenko Decay…did he or another villain give Eri Rewind? Almost certainly not; but if not then why does she get a random mutation-caused tragedy, while Tenko must have been the victim of some villain’s plot that's already been foiled?
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So my point is: I really hope this is just a red herring. Revealing that AFO gave Tenko Decay kind of feels like it undercuts the Shimura tragedy as something that could've happened to any kid in Tenko or Eri's shoes; and I don't think any payoff you'd get for that undercutting is worth it.
We should instead get the much funnier revaluation that the man who brought Tenko home that day was, rather than AFO, a completely different man who Deku would coincidentally recognize: Hisashi Midoriya.
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jayenator565 · 5 months
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My Tanthamore Comfort Fics
We were talking about comfort fics in the Tanthamore discord and I realized I have too many for a normal sized reply, so here's a tumblr post instead. In no particular order i've reread these fics...maybe too many times.
I'm just gonna list em by author cause that's easier. Keep in mind we may have different definitions of the word comfort.
@commanderbuffy
650 ft2 - Ok so like envision these girls have been best friends for forever and they've been secretly pining for ages, no sense of personal space, they can read eachother like books AND they were roommates!
The Tanthamore Affair - This fic has everything, one bed, fake dating, celeb au, the fic that changed the meaning of a certain emoji and all the tropes you could want really
@badlance
We've got to find other ways to make it together - this one line says all you need to know
"It is the greatest irony of Jade Claymore’s life to be a certified genius who is nevertheless in love with an idiot."
@spybrarian
More Than Just Survival - as far as 5+1 fics go this one has me in a CHOKEHOLD
I scream at your chest for as long as I must
one night at the start of the end of the world
@ilovemyships (i think you need an AO3 account to read these gems)
you won't believe it (they think we're lovers)
don't wanna pressure (but friends don't kiss friends)
@acre-of-wheat - Acre's way with words should be studied
Network Connectivity Issues - I have never related to a character more than I relate to this Jade
The Dark
The Bite
@jlmichigan
Out of the Cuirass - one of the first tanthamore fics I ever read actually and I still come back to it every so often
@stbot
lay down your armor (come lie bare with me) - saintbot has a catalogue lemme tell ya but this one for tanthamore is just so heartwarming
@overkill-max
Escaping Fate - the Kit runs away fic that everyone needs
Dil3mma (idk their tumblr right now sorry)
A Sword And A Shield (And Everything In Between)
Deja-Brew - the loveliest coffee shop one shot
Jad3dEt3rnal (idk if they have a tumblr either)
This Daydream is Dangerous - cuddly vampire Jade, need I say more?
ana_chronistic (idk if they have a tumblr either x3)
Oops. I proposed. - fake dating x 100, fake proposal it's like fake dating to the next level and I love the growth of communication and pacing in this.
@barmaid-anon
do what you feel now
you want a good girl that does bad things (to you)
fulfill (an obligation) or keep (an arrangement)
we simply don't have time to unpack why these are comfort fics, we're just going to accept it and keep going.
@thecsquirrel
Sword and Shield - I love this look at what post S1 life could have been like for the gang, revisiting Nockmaar, seeing Galladoorn, getting into the evil Elora storyline with Graydon, spending more time with the Nelwyn and in the Wildwood it's just everything
@wigster07
What a pleasant surprise - a fic of one of my other comfort fics, I know it's like fic-ception in the best way possible. If you liked Tanthamore Affair I have an inkling this will be right up your alley
@isabrella @jade-claymore @allthefakepeople @resurrecho
those rumors they have big teeth - BAND AU need I say more? I don't need to but i'm going to, this fic has everything Kit and Jade in a band, Kit's leather pants, gay-ifying songs, MAMA MIA, totally gay best friends who have basically been dating for years but won't admit to it, Jade gets to be a bit problematic as a treat, inner band fighting, what more can you want?
@swashbucklery
meet you where the spirit meets the bones (tanthamore 90s werewolf au) - its a SERIES of these repressed gay DORKS and they're werewolves, there's such a charming way to how this author writes them I legit can't even with these two gays
@onlyshestandsthere
these walls come tumbling down - look, we don't have time to unpack why there's so many were-related supernatural esque fics on my comfort list and I know this is only 2 chapters in but I can already feel the comfort in all the hurt ok I dont even have to wait I already know i'm gonna be rereading this like monthly
I'm gonna have to stop there even though I know i'm still missing some! If someone asked me what my favorites are we'd be here all day XD
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