#this is a pretty light rewrite all things considered

[voidlingduck]

Hazbin Hotel - Thoughts and Rewrite

Having seen the first four episodes of Hazbin Hotel, and having been casually following the Hellaverse since the pilot (I have watched the shows but not consumed any outside material) - I have had a lot of thoughts about the storytelling of Hazbin Hotel so far. In discussing my thoughts and feelings with @ekholocationn I ended up having some ideas on how I would handle the overall arc and plot of the show to make for a tighter narrative and address some of the flaws I found with the work.

This is very much a broad strokes kind of rewrite at this point, and trying to stay relatively true to what has been presented to us so far - it mostly involves shuffling things around and reorganising/refocusing the plot.

The main complaint with the plot of the show is that the Heaven plotline feels rushed and the cards are being played too soon, what feels like it should be a twist is laid bare in the first episode and furthermore it undermines the very purpose of the Hotel and Charlie's plan. Heaven as not merely an antagonistic, but an actively villainous force, feels like it's come too soon - and the way it's being explored isn't really satisfying. Camilla's reluctance to fight is difficult to justify, where Velvette, who is arguably framed as a villain, seems to be onto something and correct.

Speaking of Velvette however, her and the Vee's are what I feel are the shows strongest aspect at this point. These are villains that have incredibly strong personality and presence, and moreso, personal connections and investment to the cast at the hotel. Vox and Velvette's songs are some of my favourites, and Valentino is shown to be a serious threat to Angel and his potential for redemption.

This in mind, in my rewrite of the show, Season 1 of Hazbin Hotel would cast the Vee's as the primary antagonists to the hotel, and leave the angel's in heaven and their villainy as a mystery and twist reveal for later in the show.

Charlie has no reason to believe her plan won't work, in fact, she has a powerful Overlord as a benefactor - who while he seems to be a little disparaging, is still putting resources into her project. She is doing what she can to try and rehabilitate these sinners, however, the Vee's want to see this project fail and become active threats to the Hotel. Vox, because of his rivalry with Alastor, and Valentino because he wants to keep control of angel. The primary tension is the push and pull between Charlie as a force of redemption and light, and the Vee's as a representation of temptation, vice and hell's worst qualities trying to keep the sinners down. Charlie does not meet with Adam and the angels in Episode 1, rather, she is seen to be optomistic and hopeful, and Heaven is kept as this guarded mystery and protectors of order and goodness.

What about Velvette the other Overlords, and the angels though? I greatly enjoyed Respectless, and I don't want to snub Velvette, who is clearly a powerful villain in her own right. I don't want to completely erase the plot of the exterminated angel and Heaven's violence from the show. I would keep the scene of the Overlords meeting, and Velvette revealing the angel's severed head, however I would make a few tweaks. Firstly, this would be the first time we find out about the fact that an angel was killed - we are just as shocked as the other Overlords. Secondly, the Hazbin Hotel would be more of a point of discussion, and we would get a more overarching conflict between the Hotel and the Vees regarding what to do about the problem of Angel Extermination. Do we attempt to redeem sinners? Or do we just kill the Angels? I think for the purpose of this plot, the revelation that Heaven is moving up its extermination would coincide with the meeting of the Overlords, really being a trigger for it, and this episode would act as a midpoint - raising the stakes and introducing the broader conflict after a few episodes settling into the attempts fo the Hotel to redeem sinners and the Vee's attempts to intervene.

In this story rather than being the way the show opens, Charlie meeting with the angels would instead be a sort of climactic moment - and the revelation that Adam is a jerk and Heaven has no intention of letting sinners rise but instead wants to exterminate them would be a sort of Darkest Hour moment for Charlie. Her plan has failed, the Vee's are gaining more support... This way, there's been some build up, and the twist feels more like a twist - and it also feels like more of a gut-wrenching betrayal because both us and Charlie by this point would have investment in her plan and a hope that it might actually work.

I want to see how the show handles it's ending before I fully flesh out this rewrite, but for now this is the sort of broad strokes as to how I would approach structuring Hazbin Hotel if I were to rework it. I may or may not expand on these thoughts later when there is more material to work with! This post also does not touch on more nuanced topics such as the shows handling of sensitive issues and character arcs, it is more of a broad strokes analysis and retooling.

I thought it might be fun to share my thoughts and I hope people enjoy them! I would love to hear other peoples thoughts on this as well :)

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel rewrite #hellaverse #hazbin rewrite #hazbin hotel critique #i find this show interesting to examine as a piece of media spawned from internet ocs #i have a lot more thoughts but including everything i think about hazbin hotel as a show would be too long and rambling #i didnt really discuss the issue of how the show establishes characters to a first time audience and builds investment #but its something i would discuss if i expanded on this idea #i think hazbin hotel has potential and i really want it to be good but it definitley falls flat in a few key areas #this is a pretty light rewrite all things considered #its more of a reshuffling at this point

[snarky-art]

Chimera and Cassandra!

In my rewrite, they’re both Lunarian , aka Deliosians (the actual name that most of them use to refer to themselves as)

Cassandra does indeed use Valtor’s influence to get them a higher ranking, in fact, the highest ranking one could get under Solarian rule.

Chimera is just a pawn in that, and although isn’t enthusiastic, is non the less shunned into obedience by their mother.

Info on their general storyline, content within my lore, and why I drew them Cassandra with a different skin tone and Chimera with a different hair texture below!

Cassandra ends up tanning to pass as more Solarian since they have an ethnic ancestry from those who stayed underground on Lunaria, which in my thing, results in them tending to have a paler complexion as well as increasing the likelihood for a paler hair color. Blond is considered a Solarian trait by those from Solaria, although the lightness of it would be considered Lunarian. Cassandra can just pass it off as being the result of some “impure Ancestry” though and that she’s mainly Solarian because,, the color of her hair, you see? Blond! And her iris color (also Lunarian, but she can claim the paleness is because of the small Lunarian part “tainting” it and resulting in phenotypic traits being less intense in hue) and that combined with her tan, she can prove she is Mostly Solarian,, right????

Spoiler alert: she’s totally 100% Lunarian.

In my thing, Stella will realize fairly quickly that Chimera is not someone who has much choice in this. On top of not being a willful participant, they hate pretty much everything about it. They straighten their hair because it’s easier than curling it to the 3c and various 4 texture curls that Solarian’s can have, but they still hate it. They refuse to tan or add glimmers or contacts to change their eyes. They don’t want to. Why should they?

Cassandra allows it, VERY begrudgingly. She can blame it all on Chimera’s father anyway (he had an ancestry from those who lived above ground hilariously enough, meaning his skin tone and hair color were darker overall, and he could’ve passed better as Solarian if he wanted to ((he didn’t for obvious reasons. Fuck Solarian Imperial rule.)) but shhhh he’s not in the political sphere there’s no reason for that information to pop up ever).

Even with all of this though, when all of this stuff is said and done, Stella can’t even really blame Cassandra.

For Cassandra, yes it is an attempt at a power grab, but, Stella also kind of Gets It.

“Well,, I can’t really blame her for this at the end of it all. I understand why she would want that power. How else would she get it? She’s Lunarian.”

She’s still pissed at her for doing what she could to get rid of her obviously and she thinks she’s a shitty mom, but the actual goal of trying to get on the throne? Stella goes, “well I think it’s fair to see why she would want more power. It’s not like they have much compared to me. To Solarians.”

And people are pissed she’s saying this, it was cute she was trying to play Dress Up and shit (how they referred to her connecting to her heritage from her mother, wearing actual Deliosian garb and paying respect to the Moons equally as much as the Suns). But she’s taking this seriously? Cassandra was just another power hungry Lunarian trying to get into court in a higher position. They’ve always wanted more than they have, say the Solarians in power.

Stella’s response? It’s because what they have isn’t equal.

The rest of the panel she’s speaking to during the court session: well,, I mean, that’s not the same as wanting equality-

Stella: why not? Because you’ve refused to give them independence. This wouldn’t be an issue if you did that. Or are you actually going to concede and give them equal representation?

The panel:…..

Stella ends it by pointing out she’s just as much Lunarian as she is Solarian. The panel hates it.

Stella and Chimera end up as sisters when everything is done, with Stella and Chimera referring to each other as such, and Chimera becomes one of the loudest people and a head representative for the Delios Independence Movement.

Cassandra is still in court sessions as a political figure, but is given shit for being such an ass to Stella and being seen as a shitty mom, forcing her daughter into this and using her mainly for a political pawn. It’s too soon to let her continue to hold influence though after the Valtor incident the others present decide, and she’s kicked out for a while. She’s still shit talked for the reasons previously mentioned, and for being a Lunarian that dared to want power, according to the Solarian Imperialists in court.

Stella invites her back after a time. Stella appreciates her thoughts on how to make things better for those of Delios because she knows Cassandra will never hold back on her real thoughts and feelings. Chimera and Cassandra don’t really talk after everything for a while, but eventually things do get better, and they do resume regular correspondence and communication. They’ll never be super close, but they know they can rely on each other when it counts.

#winx club #winx #stella winx club #stella winx #winx stella #chimera winx #winx chimera #winx club chimera #winx club Cassandra #winx Cassandra #Cassandra winx #lore #world building #winx club redesign #winx redesign #winx reboot #winx club reboot #winx redo #winx club redo #winx club rewrite #winx rewrite #winx club remake #winx remake #illustration #digital art #procreate #artisrs on tumblr

[leletha-jann]

Went outside to pull velcro plant out of the yard, which let me tell you does not take brain cells, so also spent the time thinking about the "WTF, Bill Heterodyne, why trust Lucrezia and not the Jägermonsters" dilemma.

And what I settled on was the concept of - indeed, the allure of - redemption.

Long post under the cut...

Bill Heterodyne, after all, could have inherently been a Thing of Evil (as he saw it; I'll put the more pulp black-and-white concepts in capitals), but instead was Redeemed by the Love of his mother Theodora, who stood between her children and their objectively monstrous father. Bill's entire life story, which he would have profoundly internalized, is that he would have been something else, something dangerous, if he and the people around him hadn't worked - constantly! - to make him a Force for Good instead.

And indeed, he and Barry went out and performed this redemption narrative in their role as the Heterodyne Boys. They were famously active, visible, persistent Heroes, trying to rewrite the story the rest of the world (after a thousand years of "Heterodyne" meaning something quite different) wanted to put them into. And it worked!

In that light, we have two separate case studies:

Lucrezia's story, at this point, parallels Bill's in ways that he would have been drawn to. (We are, of course, not looking at everything that's happened to Lucrezia since then. We're in pre-canon Lucrezia territory.) Young Lucrezia Mongfish comes from a similar background - a powerful Spark from a family of Deep Evil. But in flashback, we see her choosing - performatively or not, however sincerely or not - a different path by choosing to become one of the Good Guys and marry Bill. (These things seem to have gone together, which is a whole different story.) This is an active choice. This, I argue, is what Bill was attracted to: the idea that you, no matter who you are, can choose your nature and your fate. You can become Good - but it is a choice.

That was, after all, the story Bill was telling himself. Lucrezia's choice validated his - and his mother's choices too. The choices Theodora had died for. The Path of Righteousness could be chosen - indeed, had to be. And it's that element of choice that makes the difference here.

It's a very tempting narrative, for someone raised to despise and fear the more infamous side of his family - and indeed himself.

The Jägermonsters, on the other hand, take orders from the Heterodynes, and always have. Are famous for it, actually. Bill could have told them to be Good Guys now, and they would have listened! Dimo tells Agatha that it sounded like fun, and they wanted to try! If Bill had only enlisted them in this fine new game. But it would have had to come as an order from the Heterodyne. It wasn't their idea, and they wouldn't have done it on their own. Do you see the Horde sitting down and considering their ways and having a mass - or even individual - change of heart? No, me neither, and neither did Bill. Receiving and obeying an order to "be good guys now", to Bill, wouldn't count. Not with centuries of destruction apiece behind them. That wouldn't be a true change of heart, it would just be another order.

If just one or two Jägers had gone to Bill, individually, and said, (in the appropriate accent) "Master, we understand, we want to Be Good and do better, can you show us how?", would Bill have believed them? Welcomed them as converts? Could things have been different? I don't know, but I think yes.

Redemption is active. Redemption is a thing you do. It's a thing you work at. That's what Bill was drawn to. Not Evil itself, but the refutation of it.

Forgiveness, by comparison, is passive. Forgiveness is a thing you receive, sometimes whether you work for it or not.

(We're also into pretty solid Catholic guilt territory here, by the way, rarely to be overlooked with creators with Italian surnames. I could cite Bible verses if I really wanted to take the time, but I DO NOT.)

...I don't know if this is coherent, or new, or relevant, but those weeds were really boring, so this is what you get when I have to do yardwork.

#girl genius #the heterodyne boys #bill heterodyne #headcanons and speculation #attraction of redemption

[monsterfloofs]

Demon (No name yet?) x Anonymous Reader (Sfw)

You sold your soul. The thought never even crossed your mind until the day when travesty came to your loved ones. You knew there were rumors of people selling their most sacred self for many things, fame, fortune, beauty, yet you yourself traded for a different price.

To rework the damage of time, of events you could never be able to mend without help. You had tried to make peace with what transpired, but couldn't bear it. Thus you had decided your life was unliveable. What good was a soul if your heart was splintered into fragments. What good was a soul to a being that no longer wished to live without those who made life worth living? To rewrite the threads of fate bore a heavy price, and you could never see your other loved ones again. It was a cruel price, but one you gladly took.

Remembering the flash of bright pearlescent teeth, almost glowing in the dark. Turning with fear as a light bloomed into existence, the bright had burned your eyes. You pressed your fingers to your eyes as you ground tilted under your fit. As if the very ground had become a swarm of writhing snakes.

You had been prepared for the worst. You were ready to suffer ten-fold for your wish to abuse the hands of fate. Yet perhaps it was one last glimmer of luck, that your benefactor themselves ended up being an oddity. Dressing you up like a pompous porcelain doll and parading you around as if you were some kind of priceless luxury.

You examined your reflection in the mirror, tilting your head up to look at the dark lace like marks that encircled your neck. Fingertips smoothing over warm skin, digging your thumbnail against one of the elegant swirls and scratching at it. It was, no use of course, you had tried all sorts of ways to remove it. Your stare into your eyes instead, trying to read the expression on your own face.

Then a bell tinkled and you looked over your shoulder, before begrudgingly slouching out of the large baroque restroom in your private suite. The bell ment tea time and the first tea time of the month could only mean one thing. You dreaded the new clothes that would have to endure. They were usually poofy, with enough ruffles that you had entertained the idea of pulling them all off and using them as a rope to escape out the window. Seeing a prettily wrapped parcel on your bed you could only sigh.

It was cruel and unusual torment, yet considering how you had thought your new life was going to be. . . it was better in spades compared to that. You gingerly pull apart the bow, and open the box. Feeling your face sag as you lift up the garment. Well. . . it's. . . certainly.

Something.

Something as in, you felt like a pink profiterole as you waddled to the parlor. If the pants were any poofier perhaps you could use them to make a hot air balloon.

You sat with your hands folded in your lap as you looked out the window. Home, they had insisted you call this new world. Yet it felt like a gilded cage. No matter how pretty, how decorated the iron was, they were still bars. Your guard had been down, mind wandering as you stared out the window. You hadn't noticed the shadow looming over you until it was too late.

A clawed hand reaches over and gently pinches your cheek, which makes you scrunch up your nose and shake your head.

"Look at you!" They squealed, tail lashing back and forth. "Perfect, perfect, you are absolutely darling!"

They acted with an air of an overly affectionate aunt, and it was truly the most bizarre experience.

They clapped their hands. "I want to see all of it!"

With the air of a waterlogged cat trying to reclaim their dignity you stood slowly. Watching as they make a dramatic show of looking you up and down before spinning a perfect clawed finger.

"Do a little turn for me? Oh pretty please with a cherry on top?"

S i g h.

You turn on your heel slowly, lip jut in a pout, holding your arms out at your sides. You arms fall to your sides as your finish your and wait for further instructions. their hands clasped to their cheek and staring at you with something like tears in their eyes.

"You are just so scrumptious! OOH I could just eat you up!!"

You remember being terrified when they first said that, but now you blink mildly and politely sit back down.

They tap a fingernail against their sharp teeth, "I will have to plan. . . for next month maybe something in lilac yes. . ."

You take a deep breath, well, you told yourself you would ask, it's now or never.

"My liege. . ." You swallow thickly, "Perhaps I could. . . pick the design this time?"

You wait for the atmosphere to change waiting for the floor to drop out and you to fall into a fiery hell pit.

When you peek at them they look more like they want to cry.

"Really?"

You guiltily look at the tiered pastry tray "If it wouldn't be too much tro-" The last word gone as they fling their arms around you.

"Aaaaaa!!" They shrill, "Oh yes! Yes, yes, yes! Oh my lil cream puff, my lil cupcake you can have whatever you would like!"

Your eyes wide as you are rocked back and forth. It's getting hard to breathe. "M-my leige-" You wheeze, patting their back urgently.

"I was hoping and hoping you would ask I–" They drop you immediately, taking a step away with their hands held behind their back. "O-oh yes. Of course, touching, you don't like that whole invasion of personal space" They twitter nervously tugging at their collar with a finger. "Whoopsie, w-won't happen again!"

Enjoy what I write? I have a tip jar! I also take writing and art commissions on kofi! ヽ(*ᵔ▿ᵔ)ﾉ

#monster x reader #monster x human #demon x reader #demon x human #demon x gn human #demon x gn reader #They are smitten head over heels for da hooman >8)))c #What do you mean pact??? #We are definately going to be dating 👀👀👀 just wait and see #while the main character is like I aM NOT DEAD YEt I caN danCE ANd I caN sInG #I have no idea this person is smitten I am afraid for me LIFE #forgive me on any writing mistakes #I am up late ahaha

[intimidating-fettuccine]

Could you do some more Sub Liu hcs? If not feel free to ignore. Have a nice day!

The only sub Liu HCs I wrote were a very long time ago and it was just a tiny snippet, so I'm just gonna count this as rewriting it. Also I added in Sully stuff because I wanted to correct it and it's easier to do them in one post than two, I hope you enjoy and I hope you have a nice day!

As I said in the previous one I think you're referencing, Liu actually enjoys submitting for his partner quite a bit. He doesn't feel the need to be dominant or submissive specifically and can do either, but I think he enjoys submitting quite a lot. I think he really enjoys letting go and allowing his partner to be the one in charge for a change. I think Liu does good from a bit of subbing to be honest, especially considering his general insecurities, so if you lay on some body praise and worshipping pretty thick, make sure to focus on making him feel good and making him know that you enjoy doing that.

 I previously said in that post that Sully would never submit for someone, and my opinions have changed so I'm correcting that too. If you get to the stage where Sully is in love with you and feels loved by you, he could absolutely submit to you, you just have to be a bit soft and careful with him. He's a bit scared about it at first, but he actually loves subbing, probably more than Liu does. Sully is always putting in so much work and effort to take care of the people he cares about and to protect him, and so to be able to just let go and allow someone to truly care about and take care of him feels unbelievably good. Both of them are quite happy to dom for you any time you want, but seriously, they are also MORE than happy to sub for you, as it comes naturally to both of them very easily, and I think they tend to enjoy sex a lot when they're able to be loved and cared for. 

Now, to list their differences! Liu prefers more vanilla subbing. He likes to be laid back, kissed all over, and praised as you go. I think Liu really enjoys having his nipples touched and played with, and I think he feels very sensitive on his hips and his back, so feel free to exploit that as you will. Liu tends to whimper and whine, and he's pretty quiet starting out, but the closer he gets to cumming, the louder he gets. He tends to lay pretty still throughout the whole thing, but his hands like to be on you, and his face is flushed bright red the whole time, and sometimes he might even cry. Liu likes body praise and edging, and when you combine both you can absolutely wreck him. If you tease him and avoid giving him what he needs he tends to start begging you for it pretty easily, whining pretty loudly as he does so.

Sully, on the other hand, likes to get a bit kinkier. He likes to be restrained (he prefers silk ties since they're gentle), with his hands and legs tied down. He doesn't like to be blindfolded, but he wouldn't mind a gag every now and then. He prefers when you suck and bite at his skin, covering him in bruises and bite marks, and he's also a fan of nail scratches. Sully feels more sensitive on his neck and legs, and he tends to moan and talk more than he whines or whimpers. He likes reassuring you that you're doing a good job and making him feel good as you go because he feels more at ease with communication. Sully tends to squirm around a lot, twitching and wiggling when he feels good. Sully really likes the difference in receiving pain while being praised, but only light pain, not hard. The other thing they both share, is that they both give you oral while they're being submissive for you. Liu loves to be on his hands and knees when he does it though (also, put your hands in his hair and pull on it for him), and Sully prefers if you use his mouth while he's restrained. They might be a bit different, but both of them really enjoy subbing for you. It honestly makes them feel much more comfortable and loved by you when you take control of them. 

#creepypasta #creepypasta headcanons #creepypasta headcanon #spicy #creepypasta spicy #homicidal liu spicy #creepypasta x reader #homicidal liu #homicidal liu x reader #homicidal liu headcanon #homicidal liu headcanons

[likedovesinthewindd]

Heeeyyy I really love your stories!! <3 can I request hobie being a runway model and reader being fashion designer for him. I been thinking about the fact he said he was briefly a runway model and I can’t get it out my head. I dunno what direction you’d want to take the story in if u wrote it but im pretty sure I’d b great! :) (sorry about the vagueness)

hi babes, thank you soo much you're so sweet:')) also so sorry this took so long!!

hobie brown x reader

warning: mention of pins/needles

wc: ±1100

a/n: don't really like how this came out might rewrite it later on. not fully proofread.

You didn't consider yourself any Westwood or McQueen just yet, but even the best had to start somewhere, right? It just so happened that your "somewhere" would be the old community hall in your neighborhood. This would be your very first fashion show, not something you took very lightly. This could make or break your almost nonexistent career, so it was important that everything was absolutely perfect.

Planning this had been an absolute pain; trying to find an affordable venue that wasn't on the verge of complete degradation, finding a way to decorate said venue accordingly, promoting and hunting for possible columnists and other industry players to invite, along with a million other things.

One of the most important aspects were models; the people who ultimately would be representing your brand. The only problem was that you didn't have money to hire any people, much less approach an agency, so you had to get creative. You had held "auditions" in your neighborhood; basically asking your friends and other people if they'd like to model for you.

You were upfront, admitting that you would not be able to pay them properly. People were reluctant at first; the idea of no compensation turning some away, but after a few days you managed to find and recruit a handful of people to help you, most of them being friends and people you knew from scool. Things were looking good, and your project was on the right tracks so far.

You were running around in your apartment-turned-studio, frantically searching for the tracing wheel you had lost once again, when you heard a knock on your door. You opened it to find a tall and lanky young man, hands in the pockets of his jacket. "Heard you're looking for models," was all he said in a low deep voice and you raised your brows. "Y'know I can't pay you right?" you said, and he nodded in reply. "Long as the clothes look good I don't care," he said.

After first glance, you already knew he'd be a showstopper. He just looked perfect for a runway; you could already imagine the way your pieces would fit him. That's how you had met Hobie, how you gained a model, a muse, aswell as a friend.

✴︎.˳⁺⁎˚｡⋆

It still shocked you just how much you've managed to pull off in these few months leading up to the big event. The whole thing had been one big family-friend initiative; everyone stepping in to help where they can.

Your old roomate, who worked at a hair salon had asked her colleagues to help with doing every model's hair. She had a friend who worked as a beautician in a salon, who had asked her colleagues to help with everyone's make-up. The choreographer had been your aunt, courtesy of her "certified pageant mom" status. The lighting and sound provided by a friend who worked as a part-time DJ at some dingy club. He had smuggled some equipment to use for the night.

The small closet rooms that served as backstage facilities were packed with people doing make-up, running around in robes and adding all the final touches.

When the time came for everyone to get dressed, you were running around like a headless chicked, hemming a few pieces here and there and filing down slippery shoes, even having to calm one of the girls down due to an anxiety attack.

"How does that feel? Comfortable?" you asked pulling and adjusting at the top of Hobie's outfit, trying not to restrict his airflow. "Good," was all he said. "Are you nervous, superstar?" he asked, as you worked on a piece of stubborn material at the back of his pants. You scoffed quietly at the stupid nickname. "Yes," you answered truthfully, "there's a few important people out there. If they like what they see, they'll be writing articles. Articles mean exposure, and I really need that right now." You laughed nervously.

"But it's gonna be great," you added, moving away from his pants and taking a moment to admire your work, albeit from behind. "because I have my showstopper right here, and he looks incredible," you added with a smile. He turned around, giving you a coy smirk in return. "You outdid yourself love," he said, looking down at his attire, "on your way to becomin' the new Westwood, yeah?"

You scoffed at his comment. "C'mon you have to go line up," you said.

★˚｡⋆.˳⁺⁎˚

The show itself was absolutely perfect. You watched backstage with bated breath as each model disappeared through the dark curtains, then like clockwork returned, some to change into new pieces, then fall back in line.

Hobie had both opened and closed for your show, and by the end of the night when everyone stood in applause, he and your mother had urged you to go on stage to give your final bow. You thought it was corny, but you humored them, walking onto the runway until you were visible and giving everyone a wordless thank you, before making your way backstage once again.

You had thanked every single person who worked with you, giving everyone a warm embrace aswell as thanking them profusely for their hard work. When you finally got to thank Hobie, you wrapped your arms around his neck, placing a fat kiss right on the apple of his cheek. "You," you started, pulling him away from your embrace, but keeping his shoulders in your two hands, "stole the fucking show."

He laughed lightly, shrugging dismissively. "You're the one that made this possible," he said, and you flashed him a megawatt smile, the adrenaline from the night pumping through your body.

"Y'know, there were a few casting directors scouting here tonight," you said, "you might be getting a few calls soon, they'd definitely want to sign a catch like you." He only scrunched his face his dismissal. "Nah," he said, and you furrowed your brows. "I'm not committing myself to some agency, wouldn't want to leave you," he added.

He continued to work with you several more months; working closely with you when designing and creating your pieces, than modeling those same pieces. Your popularity grew, and with it the demand for him; numerous agencies looking to potentially sign him. When it all became too much, he decided to stop all together. You respected his decision, and still remained close with him. You still called him showstopper, and he still called you superstar.

#hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x you #hobie brown fic #spiderman atsv #hobie brown #likedovesinthewindd

[pix3lplays]

Update~

Spoilers for the new TB mission~

Finally finished the new Trailblaze Mission! I would like to make a formal apology to Aventurine! His playboy mask had me fooled. I really enjoyed getting to see his backstory, definitely seeing him in a new light now…lemme just…rewrite some of my drafts…

I quite enjoyed everyone just straight up calling Sunday crazy, that was very deserved. I get that he’s suffering and being paranoid and a control freak is a bad combo but he was REALLY acting wild, wow. You mean to tell me those…birds are…always watching us for him…? K….

What ARE you, Gallagher????? A minion of Enigmata sure but??? When Sunday was describing him it implied that “Gallagher” wasn’t real and just some sort of disguise?? I’m pretty confident the whole “I’m thirteen” thing doubled as Sarcasm and a reference to death or misfortune though, because he gave us a WHOLE backstory that I’m…assuming is at least partly true? And had to have happened a while ago. And Siobhan seemed to have some sort of history with him. It can’t just be a case of stolen identity like Sparkle imitating Sampo…”Gallagher” was created based off The Family…hm. “At his age I was a little terror, biting everyone in sight.” Anyways I guess what I’m trying to say is yes horrific biblically accurate Angel Sunday is good but I’m hoping for horrific monstrous Gallagher to happen too, lol~ I would…really appreciate any Gallagher theories if any of you have them. I know we can’t really say anything with certainty yet of course but I don’t have really any guesses of my own haha.

And don’t worry I’ll survive the Sam identity reveal though it is painful that he is actually just a suit lol.

Im sure I have more thoughts but I’m not thinking them right now lol. Good update, did enjoy, surprised that Gallagher was the biggest thing I apparently focused on??? But I DID really love all the Aventurine stuff, AND his gameplay was cool, AND his boss kept me on my toes. I considered my party pretty good and I got NERVOUS a few times but I’m curious as to how we would have held up if it was pre adjustment haha.

Also yeah share your thoughts about the update, I’m curious~

Ratio in a constant state of RAGE was very entertaining, Veritas please relax for one second of your life.

Also Boothill was more volatile than I was expecting lol, reLAX Space Cowboy- (I love him already)

#honkai star rail #pixel says stuff sometimes #Hsr Gallagher #honkai star rail Gallagher

[angelicalacrimae]

list of kazeki stuff you should read because they're just That Good (trust me, i am a good judge)

the recommendations vary from fluff to angst! the tags i gave to the stories might be wrong so please read the tags in the actual links pretty please. 🤍 they're mainly gilbert and serge centric

by the way! if you find YOUR fanfic in the list feel free to let me know, so i can @ your blog :)

------

paradis (ao3)

gilbert and serge go to the fair.

fluff, really nice, so sweet i might as well get cavities! i love it so much.

you can't hold forever you can't even touch it (ao3)

the boys are lying on the grass. light angst.

i have considered the lilies (ao3)

they talk about their favorite flowers. not sure how to tag this one ...

by: @97tears

when pedestals break, they leave splinters (ao3)

serge comforts gilbert. hurt/comfort, there's mention of gilbert's past.

by: @idealisticshoujohearts

dull gold silence (fanfiction.net)

post-volume 17. angst.

twisted fate (fanfiction.net)

rewrite of the ending of volume 17. there's angst and mentions of SA.

the cynic (live journal)

"pascal reflects on serge and gilbert's relationship", no warnings.

an oldie but SUCH a goodie! it's very poetic, though mostly an internal monologue.

perfume (live journal)

rosemarine and jules share a nice moment together! no warnings.

freak like me (fanfiction.net)

gilbert talks about the way he and serge are so similar, no warnings.

i steep your heart in my chamomile tea (tumblr)

all the information is in the post!

the wind stirring (ao3)

gilbert reflects on serge, and muses on why he is the way he is.

my love makes my ocean swell like a moonbeam (ao3)

gilbert wakes up, serge and him go back to sleep.

by: @lovetornnatasha

poor young master gilbert (ao3)

a helpless background character actually does what we all wanted someone to do and rescues (a very small) gilbert.

warnings are listed in the actual fic! proceed with caution.

by: @nullbutler

i was six steps in when i fell into you (ao3)

gilbert is left alone in his bed

warnings in tags!

---

by: @lovetornnatasha

And I demand you put my heart back in my hand / And wipe it clean (ao3)

gilbert kills auguste

the list will be updated if i find more things, won't be taking recommendations tho 💧

#kaze to ki no uta #gilbert cocteau #serge battour #風と木の詩 #fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic recs #fic recommendation #arion rosemarine #jules de ferrier #pascal biquet

[doomspiral]

Doom's Movie Rec List

Some of these are bangers, some of these are the worst thing I have ever seen in my life, but I think they are all worth watching and enjoying one way or another. Sometimes the enjoyment is cringe and sometimes its staring at a wall for three hours. <3

The seventh seal (1957)

Classic chess game with Death film, I presume the entire thing is Bergman staring into the soul of the viewer in dead silence until you can read his mind.

The cabinet of Dr. Caligary (1920)

Strange, lurching, I watched this in German without knowing enough to keep up and I believe my confusion added to the experience.

Atomic blonde (2017)

This is my favorite movie. This is the one that I can't stop rewriting in my fics. I can't get the "lies" soliloquy out of my mind. My soul is tied to this fillum. Hot insane woman does a lot of violence, kisses women, beats up a guy who truly deserves it. Iron Curtain Spy Nonsense.

Hackers (1994)

Am I depressing you? Good, watch Hackers to experience child-like wonder and also see a grown man skateboard down a foggy street in the middle of the night to harass the homosexual teenagers (and slim shady) he's beefing with.

The core (2003)

This is not a good movie. But there is a little freak in there named "Rat" who I am obsessed with.

Angel's egg (1985)

This is the kind of movie where you have to not try to figure out what's going on and instead let it take you by the hands, just experience it, just keep your mouth shut and your mind at rest and you can consider the implications afterward when its safe.

Princess mononoke (1997)

I watched this as a child and saw those beasts dissolve into bloody worms and apparently that left a lasting mark on my brain.

Nausicaä of the valley of wind (1984)

I actually read the manga for this one but this is a movie rec list, so please go watch this for the death and rebirth vibes, and some mild foeyay yuri.

Invasion of the body snatchers (1978)

Horror movie that's odd and disturbing and clearly betraying some better dead than red fears, worth it for the horrible despicable freakish noise the guy makes at the end while pointing at the viewer.

Strange days (1995)

Please read up on this before watching it, it revolves around a fictional, then-futuristic critique of the adult film industry, HEAVY focus on the capitalistic dehumanization and devaluing of human life.

Underworld (2003)

Bad asses in leather fighting monsters. Core memory.

Blade (1998)

Bad asses in leather fighting monsters but maybe you need a break from how white this whole movie list is overall. That's okay, I see you, this vampire flick fucks severe.

Fright night (1985, 2011)

The first movie is pretty campy (fun) but the remake dug into my actual stressors and fears and scared the lights from my eyes for a day or two. Welcome... to FrrrighT NighT.

Dracula (1931, 1992)

First movie is a classic, this is thee one with the guy crawling around like a lizard and there's armadillos for no reason. The 90's version has no business being as deranged as it is and for this it is a core personality trait movie.

Fast&furious: Tokyo drift (2006)

Not sure I would say this is peak cinema but it's a racing movie that falls in line with the F&F tradition of being clearly in love with the entire premise, location, and cast. Rent free.

Drive (2011)

I like this movie because it is not about the guy getting the girl, it is about doing the right thing every single time because that's what it takes to be a real human bean. being. whichever. I was so obnoxious about this movie when I watched it with my now-ex gf that I wish I could siphon the memory of it out of her brain, because I kept pointing at actors I knew.

Green room (2015)

This is the best punk parable I can think of. Litany against not reading the room, litany against being the hero when there's no one to save, litany against thinking shared trauma is gonna get you any pussy.

Lords of chaos (2018)

I'm obsessed with the band Mayhem there is no other explanation.

There will be blood (2007)

WILD WEST TOXIC YAOI. I'm not apologizing for this summary and I'm not elaborating.

Butch Cassidy and the sundance kid (1969)

I don't know. I watched this in the wee hours of the morning with my best friend and actually cried about it. Doomed criminals and a famous final stand.

Saw (2004)

I used to watch Saw movies when I lived in the trailer park while hiding from my family in a neighbor's place so I don't know if these movies are good or if I needed to watch tortureporn to relax bcs the roof leaked on my bed when it rained? But I think everyone should at least watch the first movie or how are you going to play any games?

Chernobyl diaries (2012)

I walked out of this movie shaking head to toe and couldn't think about anything else for months. I don't think I'd be as scared now but I can't say if that's because I'm not 16 anymore. Warning against going into a dangerous situation with a guy you met off Craigslist.

Constantine (2005)

Demon hoards, evil angels, catholic bullshit, 9/10.

The neverending story (1984)

Well after all that let's reinstate some whimsy into our souls again bcs this is the Jim Henson Power Hour. This one is just a solid entry point into "puppets are fun and practical effects are my best friend".

The dark crystal (1982)

My babysitters put this on for me as a bed-time story when I was five (5) years old and I do not believe I slept, I think they regretted this and had to tell my parents what they did. But now I will never stop making Skeksis noises at people I love.

Labyrinth (1986)

Y'know the phenomenon of alt teens and preteens dating young adult men who are total and complete losers, including actual band members? It's not that this pre-dates any of that, but I believe it does a good job representing it through the lens of a modern fairy tale. Like when you watch this you have to realize this is wish fulfillment for people who want to be Sarah because their age-gap goth boyfriend in the real world is a manipulative disappointment.

Pacific rim (2013)

Love letter to the mecha and kaiju genre(s). Makes no sense, compels me though.

Eurotrip (2004)

This is the movie "Scotty doesn't know" is from. Some high schoolers fuck off to Europe and have the most misadventure possible. It's somehow exactly the kind of cringe humor you would expect from the 00's without being cruel or overly disgusting. I used to watch a lot of really bad 00's comedies and this is a good one I promise. Scussie.

Hamlet (1996)

Personality point, I think this is the best version on film because the guy actually looks like how I envisioned Hamlet. Ignore your girl! Avenge your dad!

Advantageous (2015)

This movie goes in on the connection between race and class in a sci-fi future where you can change the former through predatory, dangerous cosmetic surgery.

Gravity (2013)

This is my go-to movie when I need to sob like a sick little baby. Space travel as a metaphor for motherhood, spaceships as the womb, scientists are the babies who left their babies back on earth. It's about what you give up in the name of fulfilling your human urge for the unknown.

All clear on the western front (2022)

Thee anti-war fillum. Very well done. I never recovered from one of the final scenes to the point I wrote a final paper on it. Without spoiling it, the Ending gave me the feeling of when you're a kid and you want to go play, but you're grounded and you fall asleep listening to your friends outside in the street. I hope this sentence ruins your life if you watch this movie.

Inglorious basterds (2009)

They lock some nazis in a theatre and set them on fire, good cinema.

Shadow dancer (2012)

Domhnall Gleeson in one of his classically pathetic twink roles but its about British imperial violence and Irish reactionary violence.

Logan (2017)

Good art film, a story about dementia, legacies, and why putting children in cages is fucking evil.

The batman (2022)

Weird art film, next question.

Joker (2019)

I do not care about the opinions of straight men who watch things uncritically, this is a good movie because of the depictions of poverty in the US. I don't believe this needed to be about the DC Joker this should have been a standalone art film about a mime.

Dragonheart (1996)

Medieval era dragon nonsense, I will never be convinced this is a bad movie.

Sleeping beauty (1959)

Personality trait was rooting for the dragon.

Snow dogs (2002)

I'm not defending this one it stands on its own, please watch this movie if you wanna see Cuba Gooding Jr. bite a husky's ear so it'll stop ruining his life.

Luck of the irish (2001)

This movie is genuinely so bad I have considered it some kind of hate crime since the day it came out, because I watched this the day it was a direct-to-TV movie. I think I was too young to feel insulted but I was deeply, deeply bemused.

Black swan (2010)

There is a woman inside her and she is trying to crash the plane. Can I get away with calling this foe-yay yuri also? I'm going to.

I, tonya (2017)

Sufjan Stevens' song "Tonya Harding in Eb major" makes me so unreasonably emotional, so one day I watched this movie and then the film of the 1988 Calgary Olympics in the living room while all of my housemates had to sneak around in the dark. This is just a solid movie about ambition, betrayal, abuse, tragedy, and having to get over it and move on because you're not dead yet.

Phantom of the opera (2004)

Whatever was going on in Labyrinth, this is the adult version. Weird man in a sewer possessing a soprano. I think there's some gender happening here but it gets a little lost under the love(?) triangle.

A knights tale (2001)

Just go watch some more medieval nonsense, it's good for you, its fun.

White chicks (2004)

I'm not defending this choice, it's a good movie. "You were thinking it" "Yeah but you said it" there are some phrases you could use to see if I had been replaced with a body double and this is one of them.

Heathers (1988)

Ouughhgh ough oh. Personality trait. Watched this because I kept listening to the musical soundtrack, love both but agree the themes are much tighter in the movie. This is just a fun schlock to tell teens life is stupid and difficult and bad things will happen, so don't abandon your friends.

Priscilla queen of the desert (1994)

Classic homo fillum, if you wonder why I write Gilbert Like That it's partially because of the mean little fruit from this movie. It's about the Aussie drag scene and who belongs in the queer community.

300 (2006)

I'm not sure that I would call this a "good" movie, but it's a classic as far as I'm concerned. This is the "THIS IS SPARTA" movie.

The foreigner (2017)

I actually don't remember the plot of this one too solidly but the suspense and action were solid, and I enjoyed the setup. Good for if you wanna be really pissed off for two hours.

Conan the barbarian (1982)

Look at me. Look into my eyes. You're going to watch this movie. You're going to think about the wheel of pain and you're going to go wow, this is so stupid. Don't look away I'm not done. You're going to watch this movie and then you're going to get a couple of paper towel tubes and find someone to beat the shit out of each other with the tubes.

Law abiding citizen (2009)

I don't know I think watching this movie changed my brain chemistry in very special ways. Guy fucking loses it and becomes a problem for his local community by kidnapping and torturing people who killed his family. Cathartic and vile.

Black dog (1998)

:D DO YOU WANNA WATCH AN ACTION MOVIE ABOUT AN 18-WHEELER?

The hunt for red october (1990)

Almost forgot this one. Lithuanian Submariner off the shits, goes rogue, I'm not sure what accent Sean Connery is going for, I get the impression he just showed up to gigs and did whatever he wanted.

#long post #movie recs #mein #If nothing else this is just the 'why is Doom like that' list

[powderblueblood]

BEAUTIFUL!

ronnie ecker recounts the last first day of the worst of her life or i wanted to rewrite beautiful from heathers the musical, hellfire and ice version. warnings: first person narrative (ronnie's pov), swearing, era-typical misogyny, bullying and slurs, mention of eating disorders, everyone's a dick, everyone's kind of gay for lacy doevski. wc: 3.8k

September 1st, 1984. 

First day of the end of your life. It’s hard not to get a little intro-outrospective.

If I was a diary keeping person, which I’m not because I don’t like to leave a paper trail outside my own goddamn academic brilliance, I’d write something like this. 

Dear diary, I believe that I’m a good person–y’know, relatively speaking, if you don’t count that one time I bit that one kid for catcalling me. But, here we are! First day of senior year! And I look around at these kids I’ve known all my life and I ask myself–what happened?

We’re in the hallway, bottlenecking toward the cafeteria. It’s right around lunchtime, so everyone’s getting a real good look at everybody else, categorizing who they hate, who they hate more, who got boobs over the summer. God, do we ever stop slinging shit at each other, even when we think no one’s listening? There’s a constant cacophony in the hallways of Hawkins High.

Freak! Slut! Burnout! Bug-eyes! Poser! Lard-ass!

And no one does anything about it. 

It’s pretty sad, considering where we came from. 

We were so tiny, happy and shiny, playing tag and getting chased.

Freak! Slut! Loser! Shortbus!

Singing and clapping, laughing and napping, baking cookies, eating paste. Especially me. I was crazy for that shit.

Bull-dyke! Stuck-up! Hunchback!

Then we got bigger, that was the trigger, like the Huns invading Rome. “Shit, my bad!” That underclassman I just walked straight into looked terrified. And for good reason.

Welcome to my school, this ain’t no high school. This is the Thunderdome. 

Trailer trash!

For the very first very last time, I crane my head around the swamped hall and try to recall where my new locker is. First star on the right, and I wiggle in my combination and dump my books inside. I take a second, shoving my head inside the cool metal darkness (voluntarily, for once) and mutter, “Hold your breath and count the days, we’re graduating soon–”

“–Christ. College will be paradise, if I’m not dead by June.” 

I crane my neck out. Two lockers up from me, elegant fingers pull open an identical door to mine except hers, of course, already has a vanity mirror hung up inside. She checks her reflection, not like it ever needs checking. One of her faithful little redheads stands beside her, smacking bubblegum so loud it makes my ears pop.  

“You are so melodramatic, it’s crazy.” 

“What was that?”

“Nothing…”

It sucks how the chrysalis of adolescence has made most of us completely obnoxious. I try not to be a sucker for nostalgia, but I can’t help but remember how much easier this was in middle school. Waking up on a weekday didn’t have to be like living in a segment of Creepshow. 

I know, I know, I know, life can be beautiful. No plastic Jesus on my dashboard (or… handlebars, I guess) but I pray, I pray for a better way. If we changed back then, we could change again… 

Then I get a whole shoulder of dork, right to the face. Bubblegum snaps between snorts, I can see that he’s been shoved my way. Yeah, we could be beautiful…

“Ow!”

Just not today. “Hey, are you okay?”

This Jansport sporting asshole twists his face up right in mine. “Get away, nerd!” Jesus Christ.

The choir of angels go on–I’m just trying to make it to the cafeteria and grab a fucking chicken pot pie. I’m starving, and I could use a little less soundtrack.

Freak! Slut! Cripple! Homo! Homo! Homo! 

But, listen. It’s not a total nightmare. There’s light at the end of the tunnel. Things will get better soon as my letter comes from Harvard, Duke or Brown–

–or, NYU, if we’re being really serious. 

“Wake from this coma, take my diploma–” God. This chick’s voice seems to cut through the din of the hallway like a bell, “Then I can blow this town. Dream of ivy covered walls and smoky French cafes…”

“Sooo uber pretentious!”

“Watch it, freak!” I don’t even need to turn around to figure out who that’s directed at. But, I’m a little preoccupied with singing my own tune, here! Muscling through to the lunch line, grabbing a tray while I–

“–fight the urge to strike a match and set this dump ablaze. Hey, Ronnie!” 

Dude, shut up! I swing around, trying to spot the owner of that very different, very familiar dulcet tone when some duckbill hat wearing dickwad upends my lunch tray. Dressed in Hawkins Tiger green and gold, this is one of many prize dickwads. 

Bear with me, I’m trying to place him.

“Ooops.”

Andy Sweeney. Indiana’s worst point guard… “whose true talent lies in being a huge dick.”

Did I mention before about that lack of filter between my brain and my mouth? I patch it up pretty good most of the time, but sometimes…

“What did you say to me, skank?” Andy demands of me all darkly and shit. It’s scary. Even if I’ve got a foot and a half on him.

“Aaah!” I recoil, looking at his flexing fists, “Nothing.”

I back up from him, way way up, leaving my mess of a lunch tray on the ground. Even though that makes me feel shitty–when did I become the guy who left stuff for the already harangued janitorial staff to clean up? 

We were kind before; we can be kind once more… 

Head down. Stalk through. Find the Hellfire table. But, not before someone chucks me lightly on the arm. 

“Agh!” I holler before I register him. I am totally on edge. “Hey, Eddie.”

“Hey,” he grins in a sardonic way that says I cannot believe we’re putting ourselves through this again. 

Eddie Munson. My best friend since pre-pube. The closest thing I’ll ever have to a brother, unless Granny finally lets me get that gecko I’ve always wanted. I’m almost eighteen, for Chrissake, I should be allowed. 

Anyway, Eddie rocks. We know this. Look at him. 

“We still on for movie night?” he asks.

I beam. Our first day of school comedown tradition. “Shit yeah, you’re on Jiffy Pop detail.”

Eddie’s got a little pep in his step and it jangles his wallet chain. Dude can’t help but attract attention– almost all of it unwanted. “I rented Evil Dead.”

“Hohoho, again? Wait, don’t you have it memorized by now?”

“What can I say?” Before I can even warn him, Eddie’s backstepping straight into– “I’m a sucker for a gory ending.” 

“Eddie Munson, king of the trailer park! What, you didn’t qualify for free lunches this year?”

A hand comes down hard on the age-old tin lunchbox Eddie’s carrying. The clatter it makes against the lino makes me want to cover my ears and hide, especially when I see Eddie’s face. Total resignation. It’s humiliating. 

This guy?

Tommy Hagan. He’s the smartest guy on the basketball team, which is kind of like being the tallest dwarf.

“Too goddamn easy, man!” he guffaws, and I would try to figure out what farm animal he most resembles, but apparently I’m too busy–

“Hey! Pick that up! Right now!” –being the hero.

“I’m sorry, are you actually talking to me?” Tommy also tries to tower over me, but I’ve got a decent number of inches on him too. 

My cheeks blaze.

“Yes, I am. I wanna know what gives you the right to pick on my friend. You’re a high school has-been waiting to happen. Tell me, Tommy, do you actually have a personality outside of sticking your nose right up Steve Harrington’s ass?”

Tommy gets closer and closer. So close that I can see the nose hair move as he huffs through his freckly nostrils. His finger points right between my eyebrows.

“… you have a zit right there.”

Cue rapturous laughter from the peanut gallery. 

Dear diary…

Why do they hate me? Why don’t I fight back? Why do I act like such a creep? Why won’t he date me? Why did I hit him? Why do I cry myself to sleep? 

Somebody hug me! Somebody fix me! Somebody save me!

Send me a sign, God! Give me some hope here! Something to live for!

The doors of the cafeteria burst open and Tommy’s attention is thankfully wrenched away from me. Everyone’s attention is wrenched away from me. Because we’ve all been waiting for this.

They enter the caf in a solid formation, so solid that people part for them. Some gazing, some gawping, some glaring. The name calling ceases, the bullying pauses. 

This is the royal court. They float above it all. 

Tina Burton, head cheerleader. Her dad is loaded. He sells engagement rings. 

Heather Holloway, runs the yearbook. Badly. No discernible personality, but her mom did pay for implants. 

Even the lessers are notorious. Carol Perkins has been having sex since, like, seventh grade. Cass Finnigan’s been pretending to save it for Jesus but giving a backdoor key to whoever buys her peach schnapps. Nicole Summers invented three new slurs last year alone. 

And finally, Lacy Doevski. 

The Almighty. 

She is a mythic bitch. 

These girls, they’re solid Teflon. Never bothered. Never harassed– 

“I would give anything to be like that.”

And I know I don’t sit in that thought alone. Glancing around the tables, the coagulation of cliques, I can hear the desire coming from my classmates. 

I’d like to be their boyfriend. If I sat at their table, guys would notice me. I’d like them to be nicer. 

“What’s the over-under on one of those harpies getting kidnapped, taken to some abandoned warehouse to be photographed naked and left for the rats?” Eddie mutters into my ear as we slam ourselves down at our regular table. 

I roll my freakin’ eyes. “I told you that your Barb Holland theory was insane.”

Eddie shrugs, flipping open his recovered lunchbox. “Just sayin’... They never found a body. Anyway, my money's on the ice queen. If everything they're sayin' about her dad is true, she is prime ransom material.”

“You are so unnecessarily twisted.” But my eyes are still following the crown jewels. I notice that Lacy, Tina and Heather all rise to the girl’s room immediately after they finish their minimal lunch. 

I interrupt Eddie and Gareth’s too-intense-for-lunchtime debate about the morality of posthumously publishing The Silmarillion. “I have to take a leak.” 

As I gently push the door of the bathroom open, I can see Tina standing nervously at an open stall door. Heather is ralphing like her life depends on it. The reptilian arch of Lacy Doevski is bent towards the mirror, touching up her lipstick. 

“Grow up, Heather,” Lacy says in this voice that could weirdly be misconstrued as concerned,  “Bulimia is so sophmoronic.” 

Tina grimaces. “Maybe you should see a doctor, Heather.”

From inside the stall, Heather’s voice echos. “Yeah, Heather– I mean, Tina. Maybe I should.” 

I’m about to open my mouth, say something about ginger ale or peppermint tea, but Mrs O’Donnell enters behind me. I dive into a nearby stall, pretty confident I haven’t been spotted. But, I leave just enough of a crack in the door to watch everything that unfolds out there.

“Ah, I should have known–”

Heather vomits again. Damn, how can she pull trig so much on so little?

“–the witches from Macbeth always travel in a trio.” Her heels click over the cracked, yellowing tile, but the way Lacy turns from the mirror gives even O’Donnell pause. “Perhaps you didn’t hear the bell over all the vomiting. You’re late for class.”

Hey. Idea. I dig around in my backpack and scribble on a piece of paper, leaning against the bathroom door.

“Heather wasn’t feeling well.” Lacy says. Again, confusing enough to sound kind! “We’re helping her.”

O’Donnell chuckles all airly. Like she’s any match for her. “Not without a hall pass, you’re not. Week’s detention.”

That’s my cue. I scurry out of the stall, presenting O’Donnell with–

“Um, actually, Mrs O’Donnell, all four of us are out on a hall pass.” I gulp and glance at Heather, who’s finally hauled herself off her knees. “Yearbook committee.”

It’s super hard to breathe as O’Donnell inspects my handiwork. It hits me that this could go horribly, horribly wrong, and I can feel Lacy’s eyes boring into a hot spot on the back of my head.

O’Donnell arches her eyebrow. “I see you’re all listed. Hurry up and get where you’re going.”

She goes to hand the note back to me, but Lacy intercepts. Once the coast is clear, she takes her time looking it over. 

“This is an excellent forgery,” she tells me. A drop of freezing sweat runs down my back. “Who are you?”

“Uh, Ronnie– Veronica Ecker,” I stumble. “We were lab partners last year?”

Lacy’s eyes narrow. She doesn’t remember taking the lead on coolly dissecting a frog in front of me, it seems.

“Doesn’t matter. I crave a boon.”

She holds her glare on me. Jesus, why do I feel like I’m about to have my throat slit? “What boon?”

“Um. Let me sit at your lunch table. Just once. No talking necessary. If people think that you guys tolerate me, then they’ll leave me alone…”

What? It worked for Nancy Wheeler. Even if she had to boink Steve Harrington to do it, but I can't quite stretch that far.

The girls all chorus in laughter at me. Oof. 

“Before you answer, I can also do report cards, permission slips and absence notes.” Dude, I cannot tell you where this boost of bravery (or foolhardiness) is coming from.

“How about prescriptions?” Heather asks.

“Shut up, Heather,” Lacy cuts. 

“Sorry, Lacy.”

Then, she zeroes in on me. Takes slow steps toward me, just like Tommy Hagan did. But her stare is tearing strips right through me. I even freaking hunch as she gets closer.

“For a greasy little nobody,” Lacy says, her voice dropping low so I have to strain to hear her, “you do have good bone structure.”

Tina and Heather must already be tuned into this Lacy-only frequency.

“And a proportional body,” Tina adds. “If someone didn’t catch you during a basket toss, you’d probably only kind of fracture your spine. That’s very important. 

“Of course, you could stand to de-hobo your wardrobe.” Heather goes so far as to flick the flappy pocket on the front of my overalls. “Salvation Army much?”

“And ya know, ya know, ya know…” the shiniest jewel in the crown hums, tapping her lipstick tube against her cheek, “This could be beautiful.” Her painted fingers pinch my chin and turn it down toward her–because I’m fucking tall. “Mascara, maybe some lipgloss and we’re on our way. Get this girl some blush– and Heather, I need your brush. Let’s make her beautiful.”

A manic looking Tina produces a vanity bag out of absolutely nowhere. “Let’s make her beautiful…”

“Let’s make her beautiful?” Heather snarks, but Lacy shoves a hand in her face. 

Her eyes turn on me again. Dark and sparkly and… and… smiling. At me. “Okay?”

“Okay!”

Then, whaddaya know, smash cut, it’s the next freaking day. I don’t know how that works, but I don’t see another goddamn narrator so pipe down. 

The halls are their usual shitshow– Billy Hargrove shoves the new Hellfire freshman, Gareth, into a locker. Eddie hauls him up by the collar and they run headlong into a gaggle of girls, who all scream because every nerd that plays a fantasy game is contagious. 

“Don’t you dare touch me!”

“Get away, pervert!”

“What did I ever do to them?” Gareth yelps, exasperated. Hard not to feel bad for the kid.

But Eddie’s sage about it, even though he knows it’s as unfair as I do. “You’ll get used to it, freshman.”

“No, dude!” Gareth pushes back, verging on a panic attack, “Who could survive this! I can’t escape this–I think I’m dying!”

O’Donnell, hot on the tardy check, appears behind the both of ‘em. “Who’s that with Lacy?”

“Damn. Someone got a welfare increase,” Nicole Summers hatefully snarls.

“Who’s the babe?” says Andy Sweeney.

But Eddie Munson, oh-ho, Eddie Munson settles his eyes into slits. Anytime, any place, he’d know–

“Veronica?!”

“Veronica?” Cass and Carol caw.

“Veronica?” Steve and Tommy mimic. 

And Lacy Doevski… she looks to her dutiful right, and smirks. “Veronica?”

And you know, you know, you know, life can be beautiful! 

My whole life, I haven’t had a choice but to be one of the boys. My best friend’s a boy. I’m in a band with all boys. I’m surrounded by boys all the time who make gross boy jokes and do stupid boy shit. Nobody, not even my Granny, even though she fucking rules, ever asked me if… if I wanted to put on a skirt and get my goddamned nails painted. And it’s not as if I mind being on the more masculine side of things but, shit, is it so wrong to want something? Even if I believed what I was pretty much dragged up to believe, by all my friends and the world at large around me–that being a chick was totally dumb. Couldn’t I try it on?

You hope, you dream, you pray, and you get your way! 

Lacy beckoned me into her walk-in closet, which was about as big as my bedroom and smelled of gardenia, and put me in a pleated skirt set that she said didn’t fit her temperament anymore. ‘But it’d work for a novice.’

Ask me how it feels, lookin’ like hell on wheels–

“You gotta be fucking kidding me,” Eddie seethes as I pass, carried on the cloud of Lacy’s perfume.

‘My god, it’s beautiful!’ I’d said, spinning around in the stupid, flippy skirt. 

“Those bobbleheads totally morphed her!”

‘I might be beautiful!’ I mumbled, fingering the diamond studs she put in my ears that she made Heather pierce.

“She looks like–like–” Gareth chokes.

And when you’re beautiful…

“A girl!”

… it’s a beautiful fuckin’ day!

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

Now, at first, I think I’m fucking flatlining, expecting to wake up with goddamn tubes down my throat and shit– but I’m not. I’m in my regular old bed, with my regular old alarm clock screaming at me. I smash my hand down on it and jerk up, out of the covers.

First place I go is my wardrobe. 

I feel the physical sensation of my heart dropping like a lead kite when I flick through my old thrift store samesies and Granny Ecker hand-me-downs to find no such minty plaid skirt set. 

Just a dream. 

Which is such a bullshit conceit. Sorry to break it to you. 

I admit defeat and pull on my overalls, scrunching my ballcap over my head and muscle out the door. I’m already late, for me. 

But–then, there’s an apparition hovering at my mailbox. 

Someone who excitedly takes notice and waves when she catches me staring, arm stretching out of her fur-trimmed peacoat–which is looking a tiny touch shabbier than it used to these days. 

“Happy early acceptance day, asshole!” Lacy Doevski sing-songs. Sing-songs. Which is… something I have to readjust to, given the liminal version of her I just experienced.

“Oh.. jeez,” I mutter, feeling dazed still, “I forgot that was today.”

Lacy’s brow gets all pinchy. “You okay? You look like steamed dogshit.”

“Thank you so much,” I drawl sarcastically, “It’s nothing, I slept funky. Where’s Eddie?”

Lacy shifts in herself a little, tucking hair behind her ears and avoiding my eyes. “How should I know?” Right. That. The daylight version of this little tryst they pretend they’re not having. Honestly, if the two of them would just bang it out– well, maybe things might be worse off and this weird little platonic ménage à trois of ours would be totally ruined forever, but at least I’d have to stop tiptoeing around them. “Come on, are you gonna open it or what?”

Oh, right. There’s a whole gravity of a situation supposed to be happening here.

I kind of feel the saliva gathering at the hinges in my jaw, you know the way you do when you’re about to puke your guts up? But then, I remember. Bulimia is so sophmoronic. 

I yank open that rusty mailbox and a thick, thick envelope with a New York University imprint sits inside. I yank it out.

Lacy stares at me like I’m the dude holding the thing the Ten Commandments were written on. 

I’m not drawing this shit out. I am not teasing myself, dude, you couldn’t pay me to–savagely, I rip the envelope open, which makes Lacy cringe. She probably has a little knife for these sorts of things, knowing her. 

Dear Veronica,

Congratulations! I am delighted to inform you…

“Holy fucking shit.”

“Well…?”

I thrust that hot, heavy paper right into that pretty girl’s face. “Full. Goddamned. Ride.” 

Lacy gasps, grasping the letter so hard it leaves claw marks. Her eyes shake back and forth, reading and re-reading the whole acceptance ream. It’s weird, and I know it’s weird, but I’m standing there, looking at her and trying to make her make sense with the Lacy that showed up in my dream. That girl existed, and she was mystifying, in a horrifying way. A total reign of ice cold terror. But now, I’m staring at Lacy, who’s all short, weird angles and specific enthusiasm and… it’s hard to see how those two girls ever lived in the same body. 

She’s a little Whitman. She’s got those multitudes. And, actually, so do I.

“I knew it!” Lacy hisses, “And I want you to know that I’m not at all bitter. While I should be celebrating early acceptance with you, I’m glad–”

I grin at her. “You’re a little bitter.”

“Fine, I’m a little bitter, but I’m mostly excited. New York City, Ron! That’s transformative!”

“Yeah… speaking of. Lacy?”

“Yes?”

Dreams are meant to be prophetic and shit, right?

“Doyouwannagivemeamakeover?”

She cocks her head at me. She still hasn’t let go of that acceptance letter yet. “What?”

“Do you.” I take the envelope from her hands. I know she’s capable of identity theft. “Want to give me. A makeover.”

“Huh?” Her fingers stay curled around imaginary paper. Oh, my god.

“You heard me! And I hate repeating myself!” I flail a little. I get like that, quick to bug sometimes. “Look, you said it, New York is gonna be… transformative. I’m going to be a freaking lawyer, dude, fingers crossed, all going well.”

Lacy nods, not a hair out of place, with perfect confidence,“You are.”

“And when was the last time you saw a lawyer wearing fuckin’ overalls?! Huh? The people vs Howdy Doody?”

“I like your overalls.” I know she’s saying this because it’s the right thing to say, and she’s been practicing doing that really hard. She also might like them now, after repeated exposure, in a Stockholm syndrome sort of way. 

“But they don’t scream esquire,” I impress upon her. And it’s true. I truly do believe that I can’t set foot in New York fucking City looking like I just fell off the back of a turnip truck–nor do I want to. 

It takes a big fat beat, but her face changes. Lacy looks almost dastardly–dark, sparkling eyes like Lacy from the dream. She looks me right over, making the calculations of how to reupholster tragically unfashionable me in her mind. And then she arches her eyebrow.

“Well, remember… you asked, Veronica.”

#published by powder #r. ecker by powder #hai brainrot #ronnie ecker #stranger things fic #l. doevski by powder #this is really just wish fulfillment for me it's been stuck in my maladaptive head for weeks

[mayhem-neverending]

The Big Bad Wolf

Part VI

Word Count: 3.808

Warnings: mentions of drinking and depression

Notes: I meant to post this a couple days ago, but I kept writing and rewriting a scene, so I completely took it out and went with something else.

Genma lived in the same bottom floor apartment he had when you two had been friends. When you walked up to the door, there was a bit of anticipation. Did he really want you there? Would you only be interrupting a gathering between close friends? Taking a deep breath, you rapped your knuckles in a specific sequence, one you had used almost every day, to let him know it was you. It put a little smile on your face to let your muscle memory take over. 

The blue door was nearly ripped open only seconds later by Genma, who was grinning ear to ear. He pulled you into your second tight hug of the day. You appreciated his warmth as the air had started to cool since the sun had set.

“You remembered the knock,” he said happily in your ear before pulling away. 

“Of course I did,” you smiled softly at your old friend. 

You looked around at the lamp-lit living room. A few people were already there, you spotted Shizune, Izumo and Kotetsu, Gai, and a woman you didn’t know who was glaring at you from her spot on the loveseat. You smiled politely when you made eye contact with her and she rolled her eyes. 

You and Kakashi filed in and Genma shut the door behind you. Looking around again, you decided to go talk to Shizune, since you knew her best. You weren’t particularly close, but you had worked under her a short while when you were learning medical ninjutsu. You also had seen her recently, since you had visited the hospital since coming home for a general check up.

She waved at you with her free hand when she noticed you. Her other hand was busy balancing a cup on her knee. 

“Hey, how have you been?” You asked. 

“Not too bad, all things considered. How are you and your baby?” She tucked a loose strand of black hair behind her ear. 

"We're both doing pretty well. He started preschool and he's really liking it,"

She smiled. "That's great, he seemed like a busy kid,"

You huffed a laugh. "Insanely so, I can hardly keep up,"

Gai startled you when his voice boomed directly behind you. "Kakashi! My friend and greatest rival, you have made it!"

You and Shizune rolled your eyes at each other, smiling at his antics. You took a seat diagonally from her on the oversized cream colored ottoman that might as well have been its own couch. 

You peeked over your shoulder as Guy started in on a rant about youth and his favorite student growing up (though he didn't have favorites, he said). Kakashi found a seat so he could listen to him, and you smiled. 

You turned your head back to Shizune, who was drinking more than sipping out of her cup. You were about to comment about spending too much time with Tsunade when Genma appeared beside you. He held a drink out to you which you took.

“What’s the drink of choice for tonight?”

“Tequila, your favorite,” he grinned cheekily.

You blanched. “Tequila is the worst, you know how I get,”

“Exactly,” he had the audacity to wink at you. 

The girl who had been glaring daggers came up to his side and took his arm in her hands. He barely looked at her, opening his mouth to say something, when she interrupted with a whiny voice. 

“Baaabe, why’d you leave me all alone?”

She batted her long lashes at him. He sighed. “Sorry, babe. I was just being a good host,”

She pouted. “You already gave her the drink, aren’t you done?” 

He looked to you, but all you did was wave a little goodbye. The last thing you wanted was to get involved in whatever mess that was or would be.

Shizune sniggered at their turned backs as they walked away. “He found himself a real keeper this time, don’t you think?”

“Hm, might be the best one yet,” you replied sarcastically. 

After that, the two of you fell into some light conversation. You sipped on your heavily poured drink that burned your esophagus in between the chatter. No longer a drinker, you could feel its effects halfway through your glass. 

Your mind wandered back to the conversation shared with Kakashi on your way to the party. You wondered if Obito would have liked to come hang out with everyone. You felt a pang of sadness in your chest. He had been kidnapped when he was so young, had he even gotten the chance to be with his friends like this?

You internally frowned. You knew to some extent what it felt like to be isolated, after your ex had taken you out west, where you were from originally, for a job opportunity soon after you became pregnant. He wouldn’t allow you to take a job or go out because he refused to watch your son, then would go out and do whatever he wanted after work every day. That had been miserable enough, you couldn't imagine decades of mostly isolation. It must have been unbearable. 

Shizune waved a hand in front of your face. “You good? Where’d you go?”

“Sorry, just got lost in thought,” 

You took another sip of your drink and willed yourself to pay attention to her words. She was complaining about the increased workload at the hospital, and how exhausted it made her. 

She ranted for a good twenty minutes while you finished your drink and nodded along. Between your thoughts and her complaining, you were starting to feel really down. At the first opportunity, you slipped away to the kitchen. The tequila hit you while you were walking, making your brain fuzzy. 

You set your cup down in the sink and sighed. You weren’t having as much fun as you thought you were going to have. 

A frown made its way onto your face. Ever since coming home, you had tried to go out on your weekends without your son, but they had all ended disappointingly. You were wondering at this point if it would be better just to stay home. You didn’t have the extra energy to party anymore anyway.

“Hey,” a voice said from behind you. 

You didn’t have to turn to know it was Kakashi. You managed a half smile when you faced him. He wasn’t fooled, and a look of concern came over his visible features.

“What’s wrong?” 

You wanted to lie and tell him nothing was wrong, but the alcohol made you loose-lipped. “I’m wondering if coming here was the wrong move,”

Kakashi frowned. “Did something happen? You seemed excited earlier,”

You shrugged. "I’m just not really vibin’, I guess. And I’m tired.”

You caught a flicker of disappointment in his eyes. “Okay, do you want me to walk you home?”

You shook your head. “Thanks though. Will you say goodbye to Genma for me? I don’t want to cause trouble by going up to him with his girlfriend right there,”

“Yeah, of course. Not a problem,” 

“Thanks,”

You left without another word, and jumped between the rooftops home. It was a much more effective mode of travel, and you were happy to reach your door within minutes. 

A sort of melancholy washed over you when you stepped through your front door into your empty home. Without turning any lights on, you shuffled to the kitchen and took some painkillers in preparation for the next day's headache. You completely downed that glass of water and filled the cup again. You took it with you to your bedroom and set it on the bedside table. It was your last action of the night before crawling into bed and falling asleep.

Waking with the first light of day, you felt the headache you had anticipated the night before. Tequila never sat well with you, no matter the amount. It wasn’t as bad as it could have been, so you got up for more painkillers and brought them back to your room where you took them and went back to sleep. 

The next time you woke it was late morning. You rolled onto your back and stared at the white ceiling; energy and motivation near nil. Youo knew you would have to check your phone soon, based on the brightness of the light, to respond to Hikaru’s father. You were sure to have at least one missed call by now. 

Slowly, you felt around for the phone in the bedsheets. You found it and tapped on the screen, seeing you had a few texts and one missed call. You stared blankly until the lock screen went dark, then turned it back on and unlocked it. 

There was a text from Toma stating that he would take Hikaru to school Monday since you were, “so busy with the Hokage,”

You replied with a simple, ‘Okay’ and rolled over to plug the phone in. You figured you should probably shower. Whatever other messages you had could wait until later, when you hopefully felt refreshed. However, you shut your eyes briefly, and accidentally fell back asleep. 

It was midday the next time you woke. Usually, that would have you flying out of bed and rushing to start your day, but that mild panic never struck you. Instead, you just let out a heavy sigh. 

You jerkily climbed out of bed and went to the bathroom. You turned the shower on and stripped down. The water was quick to turn hot and you stepped under the spray. You stayed under, lost in thought until the water started turning cold. 

You wrapped yourself into your fluffy towel and went to sit on the side of your bed. You picked up your phone and looked to see what other messages you had missed. 

One was from your grandma, who was asking for pictures of her great grandbaby. Another was from your dad, who periodically checked in on you over text since he lived in a small civilian village a couple days walk away. The last was from Kakashi.

K: Sorry about the voicemail 

With your interest piqued, you went to your voicemail and clicked on the latest one. There was some background chatter interrupted by a loud, drunken voice. 

“Kakashi, gimme the phone!” 

There was a muffled noise and then the voice got louder; you assumed they were now speaking against the receiver. 

“Heeeeyyyy. Why’d ya leave w’thout sayin’ goodbye?! I missed ya so much when you were gone, y’know? An’ Kakashi won’ gimme your new number ‘cause he jus’ wants ya aaaallll to himself an’-”

In unison, Kakashi and a female’s voice said, “Genma!”

There was some commotion, and some angry shouting from a woman that you couldn’t quite make out before the message cut out. 

You wondered how he had convinced Kakashi to leave you a message in the first place when he was obviously so drunk. Some guilt seeped into you the more you thought about his words. The only reason he didn’t have your number was because your ex had made you delete and block any male contact you had besides your family a few months into your pregnancy. That had been one of your more explosive fights, but you ultimately gave in to preserve the relationship.

You sighed and opened up Kakashi’s messages.

Y: You can give him my number if his gf didn’t kill him after that

Kakashi didn’t respond until hours later, when you were curled up in bed with a book you had decided almost immediately to lend to Obito once you were finished. It was only a thumbs up, so you continued devouring the book without having to respond. It was sort of a psychology of the self type thing, and you found it incredibly interesting. You figured it might be a nice change over the lengthy novel you had lent him for the weekend. 

By late afternoon, your eyes stung and the words started blurring together. You finally gave up and took a break with the rumbling of your stomach. You made yourself a snack before once again retreating to your bedroom.

You didn’t have the mental capacity to do much else. Another disappointment from an attempt at going out drained you more than you were willing to admit. So, you ended your day by finishing your book and going to bed early. 

You dressed more casually for work than the previous week and gathered Obito’s new things. You sealed them away for your travel and made one stop before heading to his home. 

You hadn’t gotten your first paycheck yet, but for your own sake, you needed to pick these up. You browsed only shortly, picking out a tall lamp for the living room and one for his bedroom. You couldn’t stand having the overhead lights on; they were overly bright and cast harsh light on everything, making it feel unwelcoming. With the cloudy day and your mood to match, you needed some soft, warm light. Besides, you were sure Obito would appreciate it more for his reading.

On your way towards checkout with the lamps and bulbs, you spotted the cutest set of mushroom storage containers you had ever seen. You stopped to look at them, but told yourself you already had containers and to just walk away. 

Then you realized that even if you had them, Obito didn’t, and wouldn’t it be so nice to own some that were so cute? Being unusually impulsive, you snatched up the set and bought your items. 

You arrived at the clearing right on time, and felt the pleasant woosh as you stepped through the barrier. It was starting to look like it was going to rain, the clouds were darkening quickly. When you were almost to the door, you stopped. You inhaled the scent, letting the calm before the storm wash over you while closing your eyes.

The front door burst open, and your eyelids shot up. Obito stood in the doorway, looking at once stressed, and then deflating with relief. You waited for him to speak while you studied his expression. He looked more tired than how you had left him, with red rings around his eyes like he had been recently crying.

“Good morning,” the words came out in a rush of air as he let out a deeply relieved sigh.

The way he looked at you reminded you of your conversation with Kakashi. Softly, you replied, “Good morning,”

He stepped back a bit and held the door open for you. You quickly made your way through and thanked him for holding it. He only nodded and followed closely behind you to the kitchen. Instead of feeling discomfort, you welcomed his presence. Something about that conversation had awoken your intense care-instinct.

When you took out your scroll and placed it on the counter, you noticed how his eyes followed your every movement. You unrolled the scroll on the floor next to the counter (which was still as clean as you had left it) and made the signs to open it. 

You observed Obito’s reaction as everything poofed into existence. His brows wrinkled in confusion. He opened his mouth and closed it twice before finally asking, “What’s all this?”

“I put in a formal complaint so I could get you new stuff,” You waved a hand over the pile. 

For a long moment, he said nothing. You watched his intense dark eyes get teary and a light blush caressed his cheeks soon after. Averting his gaze, he fidgeted with his fingers and shakily said, “This is - this is really nice, thanks,”

Your heart hurt from his reaction. You wanted to pull him into a hug; tell him you would give him all the kindness he deserved. And your newfound reaction didn't surprise you. You had always been this way; the second you decided someone truly needed your care, that instinct went into overdrive. You smiled at him and reached out to lightly grasp the back of his upper arm. 

“Of course, there’s plenty more to come,”

You let go and went to the pile where you started to separate everything so he could blink back his tears in peace. You heard him sniffle as you gathered up the blankets and towels and headed for the washer. You threw in a load of sheets and started it up before heading back into the kitchen. 

Obito was standing next to the counter, holding the new red and white mushroom containers. There was a small smile on his face as he inspected them. He looked up as you approached. 

“What are these?” 

“Containers for flour, sugar, and brown sugar. I thought they were too cute not to buy… Besides, this place could use a little more character, don’t you think?”

He gave a little nod of agreement and placed them in a row on the counter against the wall. You put the new pans and tupperware in and around the sink to wash after breakfast and got started. Obito leaned against the counter while you worked. You noticed that his body moved minutely in whichever direction you were going when you stepped away from your spot.

“How was your weekend?” He asked.

Without breaking from your task you responded, “Uh, it was good, I guess. Besides the shopping, I got to see an old friend, so that was good,”

“Oh,” you looked at him. “And I read this book I think you’ll like. I brought it with me. It’s in my bag if you want to check it out,”

He slowly pushed himself off the counter and went to retrieve it. He was more interested in watching you than reading, but he'd bite. While he was pulling it out he paused. Your phone, which was on silent, was ringing and he curiously picked it up. 

“Hey, you’re getting a call,”

Surprised, you looked behind you where he was holding it. “Who is it?”

“I don’t know, it’s just a number,” 

You wiped your hands off on your pants, concerned it might be Hikaru’s school calling or something. You put your hand out, but the call ended right as he handed it to you. 

Almost immediately, you got a message notification on the lock screen. You unlocked it and saw it was from the unknown number. Frowning, you clicked on it. 

Unknown: Hey sorry for the drunk voicemail

Unknown: Kakashi just gave me ur number

Unknown: This is Genma btw

Your frown became a grin and you flicked your eyes up to Obito, who was watching you curiously. In response to his silent question, you said, “It’s the old friend I was talking about,”

He nodded, curiosity not quite sated. You hovered your thumbs over the keyboard, thinking of a response, when a sudden realization hit you. You looked back up at Obito and said, “It’s Genma, actually. I forgot you went to the academy with him for a second there,” 

You completely missed the beginnings of a scowl as you typed out:

Np. I could tell you were drunk af lol

You saved his number and turned the screen off. You bypassed Obito and put your phone back in your bag. He was trying very hard to keep a neutral expression when he asked, "So, how do you know Genma?"

"Oh, you know. We were assigned a mission together and just clicked. That was years and years ago, when he was still a chunin."

You chuckled to yourself. "We used to train a lot together... You know, he used to spit those poisoned senbons at me to make sure I actually took it seriously?" 

You wore a highly amused expression, eyes slightly unfocused as you recalled your memories. Obito didn't know what to say, so he just pulled a face that said you were insane and left it at that. 

The longer you were there, the more exhausted Obito became. He had been unable to sleep over the weekend; the noise in his head was louder than a hurricane. A large part of him had decided that you wouldn’t be back Monday morning, that you hated him, and that he would be left alone once again. That sentiment played over and over in his anxiety-addled brain. 

Despite his mind assuming the worst, he desperately wanted you to come back. Every fiber in his being wanted you there; wanted your company. Even if it was solely on a professional level, he needed someone's presence for his own sanity. 

He watched you bustle about from his spot on  the sagging couch. He had attempted picking up the new book, but his eyes wouldn’t focus, so he gave up after only a few minutes. Your increasingly blurry figure rocked back and forth as you took dishes from the drying rack and put them away.

Suddenly, you turned and asked, “Are you listening?”

His heavy eyelids blinked slowly and he shook his head. You tilted your own head, studying him while he tried to refocus on you. You approached and stood in front of him, leaning slightly over his slumped form. 

In a soft, hushed tone you asked, “Did you sleep at all this weekend?”

“Not really,” he managed with a heavy tongue. 

“Your blankets are done, why don’t you go lie down?”

He shook his head. He wanted to stay awake with you. At the very least stay in the same space.

“Obito,”

The sound of his name on your tongue was lovely. When did you start saying it like that? You held out a hand to him and he just looked at it, his tired brain unable to comprehend the gesture

Unrelenting, you brushed your fingers across his forearm until you got to his hand. You gripped it firmly and tugged just enough for him to get the hint. Flames licked everywhere your fingers had trailed. It woke him just enough to follow your command. Slowly, he peeled himself off the couch. You helped him stand before dropping his hand. 

He dragged his feet all the way to his room, and couldn’t even appreciate the freshly made bed and blankets with how blurred his sight was becoming. He absently noted that you pulled back the comforter for him, and then he was face down in the bed, asleep.

You gently pulled the covers over him. You started walking to the door, but stopped halfway. You turned around and stood over him, letting your fingers gather the green glow of chakra. You pressed your fore and middle finger against his temple. 

As a shinobi, you knew intimately how terrifying dreams could be, and you had no desire to hear the effects of his while you were present. You pulled your hand back and watched him sigh deeply from his nose. With your medical ninjutsu, you provided him with a dreamless sleep, and left him be. 

Part VII

#x y/n #naruto #au #obito uchiha #kakashi #obito uchiha x reader #Obito x reader #x reader #obito lives au

[lumibye]

꒰ loreish / one . . . ꒱

before the new year , i really wanted to get the major parts of marianne's backstory on my blog at the very least . i feel like i've done her a bit of a disservice by not talking about or introducing her character , honestly ? so . .⊹ ࣪ ˖

note : probably veryy suspect to rewrites in the future , there are def some kinks i need to iron out ehe ;

⊱ marianne ( marionette ) is an early to mid twenty year old former contest star from castelia city , unova . . .

⊱ having been born and raised there , she saw the increase of the populous as a result of the business / career boom that began early in her early childhood ⊱ rent in metropolitan cities is abysmal as is , but with the sheer number of people moving for work this only makes the issue worse ⊱ so , instead of pursuing anything trainer adjacent - she opts to take up work as a barista at café sonata to help out the household ! ⊱ ( which is fine , she finds battles too intense and violent for her taste )

⊱ she's already quite awkward and shy but learns quickly to build something of a ' work persona ' for herself and although this is draining , she finds solace in the day dreams she conjures up between customers ⊱ she has hyperphantasia and , if she's lucky enough to be working while the café's resident musician is on , the music sparks all kinds of inspiration in her and fuels these little fantasies she tends to escape to ⊱ and that one time she heard him play the relic song sends her into a spiral /pos ⊱ ( orders a coffee on her breaks and stares into the cup like a trance - was shaken out of it at one point by her coworker and was very embarrassed ) ⊱ ( she has her breaks outside now where she can still vaguely hear the music but be percieved less ) ⊱ her coworkers are a bit . . thrown off ? by the fact she can handle customer service just fine but if they talk to her one on one she stutters and replies in short sentences

⊱ and as much as marianne loves the stars , castelias light pollution makes it hard to really see them . ⊱ not to mention travelling to see the northern lights is just a dream considering all her money goes to living expenses ⊱ so her past time at home becomes making light spectacles with her pokemon on the roof of her room to whatever music she's resonating with at the time ⊱ it's not the same thing , but it'll do - she's not confident enough to find a decent star gazing spot in the city , anyway ⊱ this is how she gets into contests , after the attack on opelucid ( any maybe castelia depending on which source ) she has a bit of a rude awakening to the fact she's been maybe just a little bit complacent with her life ?

⊱ having always valued and appreciated the idea of self expression ( something she felt she couldn't embody in her barista career ) she opts to enter unovas contest circuit once it opens back up ⊱ ( considering the on going investiagions and the time it takes for the clearance of kyurems true ice it puts a halt to things for a while and thus , gives her some time to reherse and practice before the circuit starts )

⊱ she starts taking less shifts to accomodate for this - her mother supports her entirely given all her teen years were invested into helping make ends meet ⊱ and eventually she participates , to a good degree of success ⊱ in part due to her ability to visualise routines so accurately given her hyperphantasia ⊱ she places third in her first year and wins her most recent with a new team consisting of an espurr , illumise , lumineon and glalie ⊱ glalie - in particular - she uses as a means to try and ease the anxieties the public has around ice types after the team plasmas assault on oppelucid ( and again , maybe castelia depending on source ? ) ⊱ this ( in the future ) is how sina and her become close : she expresses how unfortunate it is that unovans were fearful about ice types for a time and that they're in fact , very pretty and gentle ⊱ snow and ice, after all , is beautiful ; the coldest places are where you see the northern lights

⊱ between her second and third things get . . . not so great ? ⊱ although she's always been confident at maintaining a ' work persona ' , unlike her barista job it's become something that's overtaken her ' public ' one - the lines are starting to blur ⊱ she's not immensely popular , considering she's more of a ' rising star ' and her previous placements make her more of an ' underdog ' type with a cult following ig ? not to mention that the contest scene is a bit of a semi - niche interest ⊱ but whatever interviews and articles are written in regards to performances in unova it all depicts her in a light that's not how she feels she truly is at her core ⊱ it's just a character she embodies after all - she's not that confident or poised by any means ⊱ her persona is also a problem when it comes to interpersonal relationships ⊱ as a relatively shy and closed off individual that's had trouble making friends she takes any forms of friendly approach as genuine but of course this isn't often the case ⊱ it's very much a matter of other contestants and her former coworkers wanting to befriend her given her current status ⊱ which she naively overlooks until they get burned out and turn away because she's actually rather quiet and shut off ⊱ they just haven't the patience to put up with ( what they perceive as ) a completely different person ⊱ this is unfortunately also a result of most of her interactions not being with friends ( not like she had many ) but primarily with customers or as a sort of public figure to her supporters ⊱ they expect different - someone that's more open and extroverted but that , she is not ⊱ her unique way of talking throws them off something fierce as well ⊱ she catches on to this pattern after a while and it's quite disheartening , they didn't want to know her for her but rather the person , idea or ' product ' she was advertising

⊱ and this , going into her third year , makes her quite high strung ⊱ there's talk with the board about her being one of the circuits ' promoters ' similar to lisia which she dances around to the best of her degree ( it's obviously not something she wants )

⊱ they expect her to wear this mask at all times ? hard pass . . . ⊱ she's in this to express herself and connect with an audience , share her vision , not be a face of the sport ⊱ she's beginning to have an identity crisis - where does she truly start and her stage persona actually end ? how much of who she presents to people is an act ect. ect. ⊱ it gets to her . and by the time of her second performance , third year of participating in contests , she fumbles her steps and her arm grazes an ice type move ⊱ it's all broadcasted - there are children in attendance and the result of the accident is severe ice burn up her left forearm ⊱ nothing like this has happened for over almost decade in regards to contests or gym battles for that matter and instead of her stage persona being the focus of whatever media coverage she had , it's now this accident that's taken the forefront ⊱ it doesn't help that the public is still rattled by ice type pokemon and moves in general - the fear in them is still fresh , so this them twice as hard ⊱ and when the media does eventually approach her after she's healed she handles that interaction very , very unceremoniously . ⊱ media training be damned - she's worn out and doesn't have the strength anymore ⊱ filled with guilt and feeling as if she needs to live in the shadow of her stage persona , she begins to isolate ⊱ she doesn't blame her glalie but she benches / boxes him for a time until she feels she's ' ready ' to face everything that's transpired ⊱ then makes the impulsive decision to move and start over. she has enough winnings over the past few years that her mother is comfortable and marianne can in fact , move without any financial trouble

#꒰ ver . 1 ꒱ #⊱ lore tag ⊰ #⊱ long post ⊰ #⊱ étoile 🩵 ⊰ #( art creds in alt txt )

[presidenthades]

Once again, I am doing a series of my behind-the-scenes thoughts for The Golds while I do light edits for formatting, typos, and continuity. Here’s Chapter 7!

My original expected chapter count for this fic was 7 (one stanza of “The Song of the Seven” for each chapter title), but as I started increasing the number, I realized I needed to get creative with chapter titles. For this chapter, I picked the penultimate lyric “close your eyes, you shall not fall” because much of the chapter consists of Aegon helping Jace not “fall” into a further downward spiral, and there’s a certain amount of faith required by all parties that everything is going to be OK in the end.

Originally, Jace’s road to recovery was going to be even rougher than in the final version. She refuses to eat or drink anything, and her family gets pretty desperate to the point of doing stupid things to get her to eat. But I felt like that was unnecessary angst and trauma, and she’s already been through enough, so I dialed it back.

Similarly, she was going to have bad perinatal depression up until and after she gave birth, and there was a sequence where she refused to even hold Cheeseball for some time after he was born. But again, it made me feel like I was whumping on Jace and Aegon for unnecessary pain, so I focused more on the “comfort” rather than the “hurt” part.

This chapter is in Aegon’s POV because it was originally supposed to be the second half of Chapter 6 before I realized it was way too long. After I cut it in half, I debated rewriting it in Jace’s POV, but she’s stuck inside her head a lot this chapter whereas Aegon has a lot more action and growth. We return to Jace in Chapter 8 when she’s feeling more like herself but still recovering.

Orwyle is not a popular character in the fandom, which is understandable. He only gets like one minute of screen time, but that one minute made me think a lot about his character. When he’s a junior maester, he suggests a new poultice to try on Viserys instead of the traditional leeching method, and he shows a bit of doctorly compassion to Rhaenys when Vaemond’s body is being prepared. In the book, Orwyle’s defining trait is that he’s cowardly (he literally rewrites history to make himself look better to the Blacks, and he flees from the ship taking him to the Wall). But I was intrigued by how he ends up working at a mid-level brothel and teaches the girls there to read (how he gets caught later). He didn’t have to teach them how to read, but he chose to anyway (to his own detriment).

Overall I consider Orwyle as someone who’s very talented at his job (healing and teaching), and is actually a pretty empathetic person (good quality in a doctor), but he’s not strong-willed and is willing to cave on his principles to stay alive. Not exactly a villain, definitely not a hero either. So he’s going to do his job and do it well, regardless of his patient (especially in this AU verse where there’s less conflict).

After three years in the Stepstones, I’d be shocked if Aegon didn’t learn first aid (same with Aemond). He’s not necessarily interested in healing and such, but he’s capable of basic combat-adjacent medical tasks. So he knows how to clean and bandage wounds, and he can recognize common healing herbs.

I don’t think I need to explain that Westeros has a pretty poor understanding of mental health and doesn’t know what therapy is 😅. For most people who’ve undergone trauma, they would probably be told “carry on, as you were, etc” and they have to just “get over it.” But Jace is a princess who doesn’t have to worry about earning a living, has an overprotective husband, and is pregnant with a very important baby so her health and comfort are of paramount importance. So she luckily has a supportive environment dedicated to her recovery.

As is stated later in the chapter/fic, Jace fires her remaining LIWs because she’s convinced herself that it’s her fault they were injured/killed, and sending them away from her service will keep them safe. Irrational to be sure, but Jace has always been prone to blaming herself for things. She’s also worried that firing the LIWs will reflect poorly on them, hence her trying to compensate them monetarily. But the offer is insulting to Rhaena, who acts as a LIW primarily out of love. If Jace were more herself, she would’ve realized the implications of her offer equating Rhaena’s love/loyalty with a monetary value.

Initially, Jace’s list of “safe people” is very short: Aegon and Luce. Aegon is self-explanatory. Of all her sisters, only Luce makes the initial list because a) they’ve always been very close and b) Luce was there when they found Jace at the Garden, so there’s an added feeling of security. Although Aemond was also at the Garden, he isn’t on the list because their prior relationship wasn’t nearly as close as the other two.

When Rhaenyra touches Jace’s face while trying to feed her, Jace flips out because the Tyroshi grabbed her face when forcing down the dreamwine and later during his attempt with moon tea.

A little irony in Aegon offering to be Jace’s taste tester, when you think about how he dies in F&B 😢.

During Chapter 7 of the Handbook, Luce picks up three dragonglass daggers from the blacksmith. I mentioned them in the Handbook commentaries, but I’ll reiterate that she intended for Jace, herself, and Joff to each have one, as the three full-blooded daughters of Rhaenyra and Laenor. Jace clearly hasn’t been using her dagger, except to display it on her mantel maybe.

Daemon has decided to develop an emergency protocol in case any of the Targ girls are kidnapped again. I’ve been debating writing a oneshot about it.

Castle kitchens are hot, loud, messy places, and a princess would have no reason to ever go there. In a castle as large as the Red Keep, there are probably multiple kitchens. I imagine the Holdfast has a king’s privy kitchen and queen’s privy kitchen solely for prepping their food, and probably other kitchens too. I imagine the largest kitchens to be in the main part of the Red Keep, and that’s where Aegon puts Gyles and Ronnel. It’s a longer walk to get the pies to Jace and Aegon, but Gyles and Ronnel have a much wider social circle of other servants. It’s also where Aegon has his little office of petitions, and he likes being able to run out and grab pies whenever he wants.

Gyles and Ronnel are used to Aegon, so they’re relatively chummy with him. But they’ve never met Jace before, have only ever seen her at 1000% gorgeousness during her wedding parade, and have heard plenty of Aegon’s stories about how perfect she is. Of course they treat her with more respect and awe than they treat Aegon 😛.

I like to think that Ronnel does become a knight one day, and he wins a tourney in Jace’s name 🥰. And he’d probably take on a house name like Baker to honor his father.

I was trying to figure out how orange juice was made before things like juicers were invented. England had cider presses for apples, but citrus wasn’t really a thing for them back in the Middle Ages. Eventually I stumbled across the citrus reamer, which is definitely something they could’ve carved/created back in the day, but I COULD NOT get over how phallic it looked 😂. Naturally, Aegon finds it hilarious. I’m debating whether Gyles truly is innocent or if he’s messing with Aegon and has a great poker face.

I lingered on the details of how the pies are made because it’s important that Jace sees the process for herself and internalizes that pies are safe foods, they aren’t drugged, Gyles is trustworthy, etc.

I wanted to make sure that Jace wasn’t in a depressed, traumatized torpor all the time, because that isn’t how it works. She can have “good” moments when she’s moving around and seems normal, and then there can be “bad” moments when something triggers her, or she’s having an off day, and she spirals. The important thing is that she’s overall making progress, and it’s OK if she has days when she takes a few steps back.

We got more info in Chapter 8 on what Jace and Luce talk about in the garden. Luce is thinking about her upcoming nameday, which is the earliest date that Rhaenyra will allow her to be betrothed. But then there’s another year until her sixteenth nameday, when Rhaenyra will allow her to get married. Luce is pretty impatient, so she wants to figure out how much canoodling she can get away with during the year in between. So she asks Jace, because she’s positive Aegon didn’t keep his hands entirely to himself before the official wedding 😏.

Aegon is now very loath to ever let Jace out of his sight again, unless he’s 100% sure she’s safe in their room. The Joff incident in Chapter 9 probably doesn’t help.

Luce always haggles, even if it’s about how much distance Aegon has to stay behind her and Jace.

Aegon immediately gets bored of guard duty. I wouldn’t be surprised if he had some form of ADHD: Impulsive, restless, moody, hyperfixation (usually on Jace, but he can get really into his sleuthing).

Hypersexuality sometimes occurs after trauma/sexual violence, hence Jace’s uncharacteristic behavior after the garden scene. And knowing Jace, she’s probably (wrongfully) blaming herself somehow for “leading on” the Tyroshi.

Luce heard the Langward knight gossiping about Jace and got upset, then Aemond beat up the knight to make her feel better, as one does.

Court life means people are always going to gossip and run with the most salacious rumor possible, and it reignites Aegon’s desire for a private life, where he and Jace can live according to their own devices without worrying about what other people think. Unless he pulls a Maegor, he can’t do anything to stop the courtiers from acting like courtiers. So he comes up with the Dragonstone solution, but it’s only a temporary solution. As Otto says in Chapter 10, they are inextricably a part of the game, and Aegon and Jace can only hide away in Dragonstone for so long.

When they were kids, Aegon came up with many plans that got them all in trouble, so Luce recognizes the face he makes 😝.

Aegon has a very soldier mindset of “just pack some clothes and leave,” without thinking about how complicated it is to actually pack a princess’ household. Luckily Luce knocks some sense into him!

I don’t know what winter roses are supposed to look like except that they’re blue, but I liked the idea of petals close together huddling for warmth. And I completely made up Valyrian roses. Not sure if they actually came from Valyria or if it’s named just for the appearance.

Despite everything that happened, Jace is STILL WORKING 😭. What else do we expect from a girl who worked on her wedding night, I guess…

KL has a well system (it’s a big deal during Jaehaerys’s reign), but I imagine the public wells and fountains get real dirty real fast, especially in poorer parts of the city. When Jace was at the Garden, I imagine the girls had limited clean water to offer her for drinking and washing because they have to walk pretty far for good water. So Jace is thinking about that as she writes her well cleaning proposal.

I’ve been thinking a while about writing an Otto POV fic, and one of the ideas I jotted down for myself was that Otto is secretly a nerd about public infrastructure and sanitation. Oldtown seems to be a much cleaner and better run city than KL. I like to think about Otto adopting pet projects that make the capital less smelly and dirty. So Otto is naturally a supporter of a well cleaning project, and I’ve mentioned before that he likes Jace. Also he’s very invested in the pregnancy being successful, so he’ll do his part to reduce stressors.

Once again, the key to influencing/manipulating Jace is not by appealing to her own desires, but by appealing to the happiness and well-being of her loved ones. Aegon knows this, and it’s a good thing he adores her too much to use this power for evil.

Aegon’s household is basically just Gyles and Ronnel, so his departure preparations are quick. I’m sure he has personal servants assigned to him who handle his laundry and such, but he probably bribed them years ago to leave him alone so he can have privacy and sneak out. And he became rather self-sufficient in the Stepstones (although as royalty, he would’ve had servants there too for menial stuff), so he doesn’t want anyone helping him dress or shave or bathe or whatnot.

Aemond is such a bro, holding down a knight so Aegon can beat him up 🥲. Aegon knows Jace would disapprove of him breaking someone’s jaw for gossiping so he’s careful not to leave any evidence on his person.

Aegon also knows how to push Aemond’s buttons, so he easily convinces Aemond to join the Dragonstone vacation. Aemond would probably have invited himself anyway once he found out about the guest list.

While Jace has been reducing the governing work she does during pregnancy, Rhaenyra has been doing more of it. In canon, Rhaenyra seems content to isolate herself with her family at Dragonstone, so I carried over that attitude of savoring domestic bliss into this verse. But here, Jace is an overachiever, and I think her example kickstarts Rhaenyra into being more active too. So Rhaenyra has work obligations, and social ones as she’s been ingratiating herself at court again. It would be difficult to pack up her entire household (much larger than Jace and Aegon’s) and disappear to Dragonstone for 2-3 months, so she can’t immediately leave like the kids can.

Like Aegon, Rhaenyra is a bit paranoid now about letting Jace out of her sight. She’s also had a longstanding petty grudge about Jace picking Aegon as her #1, so she strongly disapproves of Aegon’s plan to take Jace away, even though Dragonstone is very close and technically her castle.

Aegon is not what I’d call emotionally mature, and he’s a troublemaker by nature. So he deliberately responds to Rhaenyra with things he knows she’ll hate hearing. And in the end, he forces Rhaenyra’s hand by telling Jace “of course Rhaenyra would love for us to go to Dragonstone” 😇.

Poor Daeron is too pure for Daemon’s Torture 101 class. Meanwhile Joff has an avid clinical interest in human anatomy, and Daemon is having the time of his life. Targ family bonding!

The Tyroshi put a collar on Jace, so Daemon put a collar on him to make things fair.

The Tyroshi knows he’s never going to escape, and he’s already endured an awful amount of torture/mutilation. At this point his goal is to die swiftly, so he tries to provoke Aegon into killing him.

I haven’t 100% decided the Tyroshi’s backstory, but I’m imagining him coming from one of the powerful conclave families in Tyrosh. There was absolutely no need for him to go to Westeros and make money through usury and slavery; he chose to because he thought it’d be fun to “get one over” the Targaryens by conducting a trafficking ring in their own capital (I imagine Tyrosh having an ancestral hatred of Valyrians, even though a lot of their culture was inherited from them as a result of being part of their empire). Just in case it wasn’t clear what kind of sadistic sociopathic person he is.

Joff has been brooding a lot about Laenor’s death ever since they found Old Willow, and now her guilt is carrying over into recent events with Jace.

We will learn more about the wet nurse in Aegon’s memory in future fics 👀. She calls him “Uncrowned One” because in this verse, he’ll be another Aegon the Uncrowned.

“Three children you shall have with your wife, black or green or something in between.” In canon, Aegon has three kids with Helaena. In this verse…well, I feel like I’ve dropped a lot of foreshadowing about him and Jace 😊. “In between” refers to how there isn’t a strong black/green divide in this verse, but there’s a new faction (gold) that includes people on both sides.

“All of them shall break like your legs and wings.” In canon, all of Aegon and Helaena’s children die terribly, and Aegon and Sunfyre end up crippled. In this verse, there is a close call during Cheeseball’s birth; if the maester and midwives had chosen to save Jace, the process for extracting a stuck baby is really gruesome.

“Unless you keep this little shadow close to the sun.” Jace has gotten a lot of sun imagery in this fic, and Joff is kinda obviously the shadow. It’s because of Joff’s intervention that the birth ends well. So there’s a way to avoid the “broken” part of the prophecy, but the condition must be met.

Aegon is a skeptic when it comes to witchcraft and prophecy, but there’s a reason his subconscious brings to the memory at this moment. Don’t leave Joff behind!

Aemond finds it extremely undignified that Vhagar, the largest dragon in the world and a veteran of multiple military conflicts, has been relegated to delivering baggage.

The stained dancing slippers that Jace finds in her room at Dragonstone are the same slippers that someone (Luce) accidentally ruins in Chapter 3 of the Handbook.

Valyria is strongly inspired by Classical Greece and Rome, so I decided to give them Roman-style bathhouses, which were often decorated with mosaics and has a hot room, warm room, and cold room. The Targs (or whoever built the castle) imported this to Dragonstone, and the volcano means they can get hot water very easily. Aegon was in the guest quarters last time he visited so this is his first time seeing the family bathhouse.

Some commenters suggested that Luce and Aemond are probably canoodling during their trips to the Dragonmont. There might be some of that going on, but Aemond is a huge dragon nerd, so I can imagine him geeking out about exploring the Dragonmont while Luce is disgruntled about him being oblivious to her attempts to make out 😂.

Gerardys is hoping that Jace will be OK with him and the midwives helping her by the time it’s time to give birth. But in case she isn’t OK, he decides to put one of the Targ girls on a midwifery fast-track. He picks Baela because she’s the strongest of the bunch, and acting as a midwife can be very physically exhausting.

Meanwhile, the mysterious bangs in the tower are Joff and Daeron trying to figure out ways to light the glass candle. This involves blowing up some stuff along the way.

Hyrkoon the Hero is part of ASOIAF lore, one of the potential alternative names for Azor Ahai. I decided that he’s the main character in quite a few fairy tales/myths, and every hero needs a sidekick. I invented the sidekick Santus the Swine by combining a half-pig character in Chinese folklore and Don Quixote’s Sancho Panza (whose name is supposedly derived from the Latin Sanctus), and it wasn’t until afterwards that I thought about the Pink Dread (which never happened in this universe because Jace stopped Aegon). I guess Aemond really can’t escape the pig references in any universe 🐷.

Anyway, Aegon’s really lucky he didn’t get himself and baby Jace killed when he shoved their wagon down their stairs. And Jace not being cut by the Iron Throne is a sign, maybe??? 👀👀👀 And yes, there is much symbolism in little Aegon helping baby Jace climb up the throne 🥺.

#my writing #meta #house of the dragon meta #hotd meta #fanfic meta #aegon ii targaryen #female jacaerys velaryon #the golds

[mothcabinet]

Just found this going though my google drive 😭

Summary:

"A man who knows to pair rabbit with a Beaujolais." The stranger spoke

Ghost instantly tenses up. Acutely aware of the Scot's eyes watching him, studying him even.

"I know I don't seem like the type..."

"No, you do."

And the man smiled at him. It wasn't one of those fake smiles that somehow conveys “If I smile maybe he won’t hurt me.”

It was a real, genuine smile. This total stranger had managed to break down all the walls he desperately put up, with a simple smile. Simon Riley knew that he was absolutely and utterly fucked.

Oh look yet another Soapghost apocalypse fic shocked emoji

(No I didn’t start this in early January when I was also brain rotting on TLOU that’s insanneeeeee)

————————————————————————

September 18th, 2003

“A virus. Researchers are saying it’s due to cordyceps. A fungus that attacks the brain. Makes the victims lose every part of themselves. It’s fucked up man…”

Ghost closes his laptop and rubs his eyes.

He tries not to panic. This will all blow over in a few weeks. Something like that isn’t fucking possible. It’s just the media exaggerating a story from some small town in the Middle East. He’s protected here. The closest town is 80 kilometers. His property is surrounded by an electric fence. Hell, he even set up cameras so he could constantly watch over the place. (Price’s solution to get him to stop calling him every time he swear he saw someone in the woods)

He takes a moment and lets himself breathe. He attempts to do those stupid breathing exercises Roach taught him.

“Everything will be fine.” He decides and doesn’t give it another thought.

November 28th, 2003

[rewrite] Ghost sat in his bunker. The only source of light being the shitty computer monitor in front of him. The scene in front of him is anything but pretty.

Innocent people getting loaded up like pigs to the slaughter.

“Idiots.” He thinks bitterly. He’s not stupid. He knows those people are walking towards their own deaths. Hell, he’s ex-military. He knows how these guys think.

Eliminate the threat before it's even considered one.

It’s the military’s sick way of trying to grasp control. He hates the way he understands. How he knows how much innocent blood is on his hands. It makes him sick of how willing these “people” are to kill children.

He eventually tears his eyes away from the scene in front of him. The feelings of the past rearing its ugly head. Remembering all the things that we’re supposed to be dead along with Simon Riley.

“Christ, I need a drink.”

And with that, he decides to end the day with his only source of warmth, an old bottle of (Kentucky) Bourbon.

(Which was supposed to be opened when Tommy turned 21…but he can’t fathom remembering that right now…)

#john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #ghost mw2 #simon riley #soap mactavish #soap mactavish x simon ghost riley #soapghost #cod mw2 #ghost x soap #mw2 au #soap cod #soap call of duty #soap mw2 #ghost cod #ghostsoap #i just think they're neat #gay gay homosexual gay

[wonderlandleighleigh]

Rewrite 1

Spoilers for the first 2 episodes under the cut.

All things considered, she’s feeling pretty good in her Susie-approved outfit, heading for Rockefeller Center on that crowded train.

It’s not until she peers into the training running alongside her own that her heart skips a beat.

Dark hair.

Trench coat slung over his arm.

A small child’s hand gripped in his own.

They lock eyes and he gives her the most tired grin she has ever seen in her god-damn life. Midge can’t help smiling back.

He nods for her to exit her train, and soon they’re meeting on the platform.

“What happened to the west coast?” She asks, bewildered but still smiling. She just can’t help herself.

He chuckles hollowly. “It uh…it didn’t work out.”

“That was fast.”

“Gramma Sally got us deep sixed,” the little girl attached to Lenny’s leg announces, making him laugh.

“My mother decided to throw me a big show business party,” he explains. “And uh…one of her very talented show business friends started a wildfire behind the house.”

“Oh my god, was everyone okay?” Midge asks, looking alarmed.

“Somebody lost an eyebrow, but other than that, LA’s bravest got it under control pretty quickly,” Lenny shrugs. “But uh…Like Kit said. It got us thrown out. So…at least for now, we’re gonna hang around here. I found a decent apartment in the Village for us. We’ll see how things go.”

“We got our deposit back!” the little girl chirps.

Lenny chuckles a little and turns to the little blonde. “Most of it.” He turns back to Midge. “This is my kid. Kitty. Kit, this is Daddy’s nice friend Midge.”

“You’re pretty,” Kitty says. “I like your skirt.”

Midge beams and swishes the red and black plaid skirt. “It’s a sitting skirt.”

Lenny gives her a confused look. “As opposed to…?”

“I got this job and I won’t be standing very much, so I needed a skirt that looked good while I was-“she stops talking and takes a breath. “I got a gig on Gordon Ford’s writing staff.”

“The couch potato brigade,” Lenny grins, his eyebrows lifting. “Cushy.”

“I guess we’ll see,” Midge shrugs. “It’s my first day. Where are you off to?”

“We are dropping Kitty off at her new school,” he tells her. “And then I have a meeting with a new lawyer, since the west coast isn’t happening.”

She nods, giving him an encouraging smile. “Good luck.”

“Thank you. Supposedly this guy is really something. Kessler.”

Midge lights up. “I know Michael Kessler. He’s represented me before, and he’s friends with my father.”

“I will be sure to name drop,” Lenny promises. “But we have to go. It’s apparently a bad look if your child is late for kindergarten.”

“A disaster,” Midge agrees. “Have a good day, Kitty.”

Kitty waves and keeps holding onto Lenny. “Bye, Miss Midge.”

She’s about to get back on the train when Lenny reaches out, almost taking her hand but stops. Midge turns to look at him curiously.

“I know…I know we sort of…” he fumbles with his words, ducking his head. “I know you said we don’t-“ he stops again, looking at her hopefully. “But maybe we could.”

Midge smiles slowly. “How about I bring dinner by tomorrow night as a housewarming gift?” she offers.

“You don’t have to-“

“I’ll need your address,” she tells him.

He takes a breath and gives it to her, and she nods, committing it to memory.

“I’ll see you tomorrow night after the show,” she promises.  

“Bye, Midge,” Lenny says softly, gazing at her gratefully.

She smiles and kneels briefly to fix Kitty’s little hat. “There. Perfect.” She gets up, leaning in and kissing Lenny’s cheek before heading back for the train.

Behind her she can hear Kitty’s little voice as they head for the stairs out of the station.

“She’s nice. I’m glad she’s coming over to see us.”

“Yeah, Kit. Me, too.”

Midge takes a deep breath, and heads for work.

#fic #tmmm #tmmm spoilers #midge x lenny #wrong handsome man

[bingoboingobongo]

complex simplicity pt. ii

Pairing: Adrian Chase (Peacemaker) x Reader

Type: Fluff, angst

Summary: The team finally sets out on their mission, and Adrian deals with the events of last night

Word Count: 8k

Warnings: feminine pronouns used (she/her), angst, bodily injury, blood, descriptions of violence, previous trauma, character death

A/N: hiii, welp. it's finally done. after ten trillion years of constant dread, over three rewrites, and chronic procrastination, she's finally here. my longest fic ever (i think). i hope you like it, i have no idea if there's still an Adrian Chase fandom, but to everyone that has stayed throughout my unofficial hiatus, thank you. as always, likes/reblogs and constructive criticism are always appreciated, again thank you so much. please enjoy :)

Masterlist

part one

Adrian very rarely felt happy. Although perhaps that was an overstatement. A better way to phrase it, Adrian supposed, was that he very rarely felt the way he felt now: elated; ecstatic; euphoric; like his heart was about to burst out of his chest spewing nothing but love and joy and jubilee all over the room in some passionate, exuberant, macabre scene.

In fact, he wasn’t sure he had ever felt this way. The entire ordeal was entirely unique, Adrian realized. For one, there was nobody else in the entire galaxy that could ever compare to the woman nestled into his chest, with her small frown and pursed eyebrows even as she slept. And secondly, there was nobody else in the entire galaxy that Adrian would ever want so desperately.

There was no doubt in Adrian’s mind when he realized that nobody — not even Chris, who he admired with his whole being — could ever make him feel as exhilarated as she did. She was, in all ways, one of a kind.

When Adrian woke there was no longer the comforting weight of the coworker he had spent months pining over on his chest, and for a moment he feared the worst. Could the whole thing have been a dream? A cruel concoction created by his brain meant to torment and him? It wouldn’t have been the first time he dreamt about her, and he didn’t doubt that it wouldn’t be the last.

But when he got up, his heart beating out of his chest — for all the wrong reasons now — he realized that familiar scent that always lingered around her was stuck to his skin. That sweet, fresh, intoxicating scent that had a hint of something he could never quite place, had found a home on the planes of his torso, and Adrian realized that if he could, he would’ve bottled the fragrance and sprayed it on every article of clothing he owned so that he could surround himself with her.

“Oh, you’re finally up,” she said, staring at Adrian from the door of the bathroom, and Adrian scrambled to put his glasses on. She was rubbing something on her face, moisturizer or some fancy serum, Adrian guessed, and his mind was flooded with images of him rubbing his hands over her and savoring in the softness of her skin, before he rubbed his eyes, trying to rid his brain of the picture that had been burned into it.

“Uh, yeah. How long have you been up? I mean, I’m assuming it’s been a while, you look pretty great right now. I mean awake. You look awake, not great. I mean, it’s not that you don’t look great, but I feel like it’s weird if I say you look great so I was saying that you look awake. At least, I assume so. Since you’re doing all your makeup or something. Not that you need it. You’re really pretty alrea—”

“Ok, I’m gonna stop you right there before you say something you regret,” she cut in, and despite her light tone Adrian couldn’t get past the slightly critical look she was giving him. “Economos sent me the location,” she said, “get ready. We’re leaving in thirty.”

To his surprise, Adrian got ready surprisingly fast. He figured that considering the events from the night before, as well as the catastrophe of this morning, his neurons would be way too fried for him to even get out of bed, and yet thirty minutes later he was sitting in the driver’s seat of a Dodge Challenger, going sixty miles per hour down a desolate road.

Adrian let out a whistle, “So, what do you think Waller has us doing today?”

“God I hope it’s not aliens,” she sighed, reaching into the back seat for her bag. “But let’s be real, Leota’s press conference stunt did nothing but get us heat from Waller and the rest of the government. Stupid press didn’t even do anything. She’s probably found another deadly alien race that she needs us to kill. God knows we’re expendable enough to her,” she muttered, pulling out a small handgun and loading the clip.

“I don’t know, I enjoyed fighting the butterflies,” Adrian chirped, “plus, it felt super awesome when we told the Justice League that they could suck it because they were dumb weaklings that couldn’t even arrive on time.”

She paused what she was doing to give Adrian a quizzical look, “You didn’t even say anything to them, Chase. Chris was the only one that said anything and all he said was that they were late.”

“Still though,” he pressed, “I’m sure they could understand what I was trying to say. Wanna listen to the radio?”

“Uh, sure. Do they have NPR?” she asked, prompting Adrian to give her a disapproving look. “I’m joking,” she said after a beat, “lord knows your head would explode if you listened to anything other than 90’s bubblegum pop or whatever music Chris listens to. What is it, 80’s metal?”

“Actually, it’s 80’s glam-metal, and it’s amazing. How can you call yourself an 11th Street Kid if you think glam-metal is the same as regular metal?” he scoffed, “I mean, I’ve heard of a lot of insane things over the years, but that takes the cake.”

“What’s even the difference between glam-metal and regular metal anyways? It all sounds pretty similar to me,” she said, her eyes squinted in concentration as loaded the clip on another handgun.

Adrian laughed out loud this time, turning to look over at her with a fake look of shock painted on his face, “Ok, I lied about that last thing. This, this is the most insane thing I have ever heard come out of someone’s mouth. Glam-metal and regular metal are the most different things in the entire world. Chris told me all about it. Regular metal is lame and boring and is made for cowards, glam-metal is ten times better, it’s the most unlame genre ever made, and it’s made for real men. The difference is that glam-metal—”

“Hey, stop here,” she interrupted him as they pulled into the parking lot of an abandoned grocery store, “guess you won’t be able to tell me about how amazing glam-metal is. I’m devastated,” she said, climbing out of the car, and even Adrian could pick up on her sarcasm. “Grab your bag, I don’t want to get screwed over if someone tries to steal this car.” With a sigh, Adrian grabbed his bag from the car and slung it over his shoulder as the two of them walked towards the store.

If the half-fallen sign in the front of the building wasn’t enough indication that the place hadn’t been visited for years, the inside was. Shelves were knocked over, trash was piled in corners, and various assortments of canned goods lined the floors.

“Hey, look at this,” Adrian grunted, squatting down to pick a package off the floor, “it’s a pack of beef jerky. Think it’s still good?”

“I- No, Adrian. I do not think floor jerky from an abandoned grocery store is good,” she said incredulously.

But in typical Adrian fashion, the word of his peers was never enough, and so he opened up the years-old package and popped a piece in his mouth. “Hm,” he hummed to himself as he chewed, “you know, it’s not as bad as I thought. It’s a little stale, but given the price I paid for these, I’d say it’s a total win. Want one?”

“Oh my god Adrian,” she sighed, rubbing her eyes, “I- Just come on, We’ve gotta meet the others, I don’t have time to deal with you and your floor jerky.” With a resigned shrug of his shoulders, Adrian followed her throughout the derelict store, chewing contentedly on his floor jerky until they reached a small room in the back. She stopped in front of the door, and with a deep breath, gave one sharp rap, followed by two quick ones and one delayed one. The two of them waited in silence for a brief moment before the door opened, revealing Leota by the door, Emilia leaning over a large map, John typing away at his computer, and Chris staring over his shoulder.

“Finally,” John sighed, looking up from his screen, “what took you guys so long?”

“Adrian ate ten year-old floor-jerky,” she explained, which caused a groan from everyone.

“What?” Adrian cried, “jerky is what you eat during the apocalypse, it’s made to be eaten centuries after it’s cooked.”

Leota scoffed, “That is not true, and also there are rats here man. How do you know your floor-jerky wasn’t part of some rat’s dinner?”

“Yeah, like I’m gonna die of plague, that hasn’t killed anyone since the year 200, Adebayo. And if I were to catch it, I could probably just sleep it off,” Adrian said, chuckling.

“Dude, you can’t just sleep off plague,” Chris butted in.

“Uh, I totally could,” Adrian persisted.

“Dude,” John said, “it’s plague.”

“Ok we get it,” she cut in, silencing Adrian with a look that only encouraged the butterflies in his stomach, “Adrian’s stupid and he’s probably gonna die. What else is new? Now can we figure out what the hell is going on with this mission?”

Emilia looked up from the map, passing out dossiers to each member of the team. “Ten weeks ago, the President’s secret service arrived in Maine to secure a location the president would be speaking at,” she explained, pointing to a circled area on the map. “Within the hour, all five agents were found dead on the scene. First responders noted a single gunshot right between the eyebrows on each agent, ballistics assuming that they were shot long-distance, presumably a sniper.”

“Wait, they’re assuming?” Chris asked, looking up from the file, “these nerds spend all day analyzing bullets and they can’t even find out what gun the bullet is from?”

“Well these ‘nerds’ are the only people we have so don’t complain,” Emilia said, “besides, it’s pretty hard to analyze a bullet when there aren’t any.”

“Wait,” Adrian said slowly, “so whoever shot them took the bullets back after they were done?”

“Hey, what’s this?” she asked, and her voice sounded like a symphony to Adrian’s ears. “The autopsy report stated that the cause of death was batrachotoxin? What in the world is that? And does this mean the shots were done post-mortem?”

“Batrachotoxin,” John started, bringing his laptop over to the center of the table, “is an insanely powerful neurotoxin found on, get this, the skin of poison dart frogs. Get less than a gram of this stuff into your bloodstream, and in less then ten minutes you’ll be suffering from paralysis and then death.”

“Well that doesn’t make any sense,” Chris started.

“Exactly,” Emilia cut in, “if the toxin was already gonna kill them, why bother shooting them?”

“Oh, that’s not what I was talking about,” Chris said, “I was talking about the thing Economos said. How do you suffer from death? You can’t be suffering from death because you’ll already be dead.”

“Ok, it’s a figure of speech,” John said.

“Yeah, a dumb one,” Chris said, chuckling, “you know John, I was actually starting to think you were smart when you were talking about all that poison stuff but then this?”

“Hey screw you!” John yelled, although his protest was diminished by Chris’ roars of laughter.

“Ok, everyone shut up!” Emilia yelled, clenching her fists together. “We’re not done here yet, keep your egos in check until we’re done, got it?” she asked, “good. Now, since then, secret service agents have been dying the same way whenever they go to scout out a new location. It’s always the same situation: death by batrachotoxin, a post-mortem bullet to the head with no bullet, no witnesses, suspects, or evidence.”

“So, what are we doing here?” Adrian asked.

“At 5 this afternoon, the secret service is supposed to scout out an outdoor speaking event for the president. Waller wants us to arrive beforehand and see if there’s anyone suspicious who may be our guy. In the event that we do see him, Waller has been very insistent that we do not kill him? Understand?” Emilia asked, eyeing Chris and Adrian.

“Hey, why are you looking at us?” Adrian whined.

“Because you’re not exactly Mahatma Gandhi, and if we kill our guy, Waller will kill us.”

“The deaths coincide with dates the president is supposed to talk about his new anti-nuclear weapon policy, is it possible this is a rival politician trying to stop the president from talking about his new policy?” Leota asked.

“That’s our current lead,” Emilia explained, “Economos has been looking into politicians that disagree with the president’s policy, we’ve been tracking their comings and goings, looking into their communications, and trying to find anything that might lead to our guy. However, given the fact that we were assigned this mission two nights ago and the concerningly large number of politicians that want more nukes, we’ve barely been able to get through anything.”

“You said the senator was coming in right Harcourt? That’s why our hotel was so booked up. And this poison has to be coming from somewhere, poison dart frogs are native to central america right? So shouldn’t we be checking whether or not any of these guys have made repeated trips down to the border? I mean, getting this stuff through customs can’t be easy,” she pointed out, and when Adrian looked over at her, he had to physically stop himself from staring at her for too long.

“You’re right. Economos, check that out. For now, Leota and John will stay at the hotel and research our politicians. The rest of us will go to the location and try and see if we find anyone. This,” Emilia explained, pointing to another circle on the map, “is where the president will be speaking. Me and Chris will be watching the park and the two of you will surveill the forest behind it. If these shots were done by a sniper, the forest would be a good place to do it.”

Adrian sucked in a sharp breath, he was nervous, to say the least. “Hey Harcourt?” he asked, “can I talk to you real quick?”

Emilia sighed, but she let Adrian pull her aside while the rest of the team continued to look through the case files. “What do you need, Chase?” she asked with a sigh.

“I’m not trying to be uncool or anything but do you think it’s possible that I could go with Chris instead? It’s just that we’ve got a real ‘Bert-and-Ernie’ vibe and I think it would be good for the mission.”

Emilia sighed, “Bert and Ernie? Like from Sesame Street?”

“Wait, that’s where it’s from?” Adrian asked incredulously, “I thought Bert and Ernie were just some really good friends from like 1934 or something, and then they were just known throughout town as being really good friends, and so when someone else wanted to prove how good of friends they were with someone else, they would just say that they had a Bert and Ernie friendship, since Bert and Er—”

“Ok shut up Chase,” Emilia demanded. “Is this about your weird little crush on her?” she asked, gesturing over to where she currently sat, rifling through the dossier with that familiar crinkle in her brow.

Adrian scoffed loudly, “Please, what? Crush? Who- Who said I had a crush on her? Please, that’s- How old am I? Twelve? I don’t… I don’t like her.”

Emilia stared at him, her lack of belief in his statement clear on her face. “Well then, if you don’t like her then you should be fine working with her,” she said, turning away from Adrian with a shake of her head. “But Adrian?” she said, turning back to face him, “if you mess this up because you couldn’t keep it in your pants, Waller won’t be the only woman looking for your head.”

“Got it,” Adrian said awkwardly, although Harcourt had already walked away from him. Puffing air out of his lips, Adrian walked over to where his roommate and subsequent heartstopper was standing. He allowed himself to admire her focused stare for a second before he cleared his throat. “So…” he started, swinging his hands around. “Guess we’re gonna be partners… again,” he said, laughing awkwardly. “Just… two normal coworkers… working together… no weird feelings. I mean, of course there’s no weird feelings, I don’t even have feelings like I said last night, which was a totally normal night where nothing happened, definitely not during the middle of the night when you were sleeping… so should we go to the car?” he said, after clocking her stare.

“You’re acting really weird Chase,” she said, looking him up and down. “Let’s just get this done alright?” she said, slinging a duffel bag over her shoulder. Adrian watched her walk away for a moment before following her, but before he could Chris stopped him.

“Dude, just admit it, you like her,” Chris said.

“Psh, uh- wha- huh? I don’t- I don’t know what you’re talking about Chris, I have no feelings towards her at all, and definitely not love feelings,” Adrian spluttered frantically.

“Jesus Christ you’re hopeless Adrian.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that anyone with two eyes and half a brain can tell that you’re way into her dude. And I don’t mean that you just like her romantically, you’re pretty much in love you idiot.”

“Ok, that’s just not true Chris,” Adrian protested, although he had to admit that he had thought about it, “you should know better than anyone else that love? That’s just not the Vigilante-way. You and I? We put criminals to sleep and take their women to bed. We don’t get hung up on love or relationships or dreaming about owning a two story house with a white picket fence or a New York apartment or whatever housing situation our lover likes the best because they’re the most important thing to us and we would do anything to make them happy. No, the only people you and I are interested in is criminals, and murdering them. I know your time in Belle Reeve changed you and now you’re like this peace-loving hippie that doesn’t want to kill anyone and has crushes on people, but that’s not me. That’s not Vigilante. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go join my work partner on a very normal drive which I will very much enjoy because she is my coworker, and the only feelings I have towards her are respect and friendship.”

Chris shook his head. “Whatever you say man,” he said, giving Adrian a hard clap on the shoulder and sending him away.

“Sorry about that,” Adrian said as he climbed into the passenger seat of the car.

“About what?” she asked, flexing her hands against the steering wheel.

“Well- Chris had to talk to me about… something, so that’s why I took so long to come out.”

“Oh,” she said, “I didn’t notice.”

The two of them didn’t say much after that; she stared silently ahead at the road in front of them while Adrian gazed out the window, his eyes only flickering over to her occasionally. He wasn’t sure why but there was something off about her now. She was a naturally stoic and silent person, he knew — after all it was one of the reasons why he was so obsessed with her — but there was something else beneath her constrained quietness. A difference in the air around her; usually it felt calm, serene, still. But now, he could almost sense something disturbed about it. As if her stony facade were a smooth pond that had been marred by outward-moving rings of concentric circles, and yet what had caused the disturbance was still unknown, its very nature hidden away in the depths of the water.

It was then that Adrian thought back to the night before. He mulled over their conversations, choosing to skip over his many social errs and follies, when he remembered something that had struck him as odd when he heard it. “What did you mean when you said the bed was ‘too big’ last night?” he asked, finally breaking the silence.

“What did you mean when you asked Harcourt for a new partner?” she countered immediately, and to his surprise Adrian could feel a hint of emotion deep underneath her words, although the exact one was still unknown to him.

“I- That- It wasn’t what you think it was,” he tried to explain.

She chuckled dryly. “Is working with me really so horrible?” she asked, but Adrian could still sense that foreign emotion nudging at the edge of her words, yearning to free itself from its prison.

“No! No, not at all! It’s the opposite of that really,” Adrian said hurriedly. “It’s just that- I- You- I think… I think that you and I… I’m worried that we’re not… compatible? And… I guess that I’m just worried that you think I’m… you know,” he said, mumbling the last part.

“You’re what?” she asked, looking over at him, “weird? Annoying? Way too talkative?”

Adrian sighed, nodding glumly as he looked out the window. To his annoyance, it was ironically bright outside. The sun shining brightly overhead, there were no clouds in the sky, and the trees were rife with leaves as green as shamrocks. It looked like a scene from an oppressively happy movie — one that would be filled to the brim with cheesy romance, choreographed musical numbers, and shallow conflict that would be resolved in minutes. In other words, the exact opposite of his life.

“You’re right, I guess,” she said, her voice growing smaller now. “I do think you’re weird and annoying and way too talkative, but… for what it’s worth, I don’t really mind, and I don’t really mind… working with you,” she said, her voice now so quiet that it was barely above a whisper.

And it was then that the wool was finally pulled off Adrian’s eyes and he could see with startling clarity what he had missed before. The object that had disturbed the smooth pond of her aura, the hidden emotion that lurked beneath her words, he knew what it was now. He held it on the forefront of his mind and the tip of his tongue.

Betrayal.

She had overheard him asking for a partner change and she had felt hurt, she had felt offended, she had felt betrayed. And Adrian couldn’t have been more joyful. After what seemed like eons of searching for answers, for clues, anything that could’ve tipped the scales ever-so-slightly in his favor, he had found the very thing that would solve all his problems. Proof. Real, physical, audible proof that came out of her mouth that she cared. She cared about what he thought of her, even more, she enjoyed working with him. In all ways, it was a success, and Adrian had to fight to stop himself from bursting into giddy laughter right then and there.

“What are you grinning about?” she asked him, the betrayal no longer in her voice but instead replaced by something Adrian believed — hoped, really — to be playfulness.

“Nothing,” he said coyly, his smile growing impossibly bigger. “I mean, if I didn’t know any better I would say that you liked me,” he teased, grinning at her.

She glared back at him, but this time Adrian figured it held slightly less contempt that normal, “Say something stupid like that again and I’ll shoot you right now, got it Chase?” she threatened.

“Whatever you say,” he chuckled, “like you’re gonna murder the love of your life.”

“Good god,” she sighed, rolling her eyes as she redirected her attention back to the road.

When they arrived at the location there was nothing particularly absurd about it. It was a medium-sized field of green grass surrounded by a ring of forest behind it. There was a podium in the center of the field, its body covered by a banner of the President’s face, the background of which was covered with patriotic reds and blues. In front of it were rows upon rows of folding chairs, and behind the podium were six American flags, the cloth hanging limply in the windless air.

“Come on,” she sighed, “Harcourt says we have to surveill the forest so we better get set up.” The forest seemed to be well over a mile away from where they stood, and so with a groan Adrian grabbed his things and followed behind her.

The trek to the forest was tedious at best. By then, the sun was directly overhead and its suffocating rays beat down at them insistently. Adrian could feel his body begin to drip with sweat as they trudged towards the forest, which seemed to only grow further and further away. To take his mind away from the torrid atmosphere, he focused on the person in front of him. The way her hair jolted every so slightly as she walked. The resoluteness of each step she took, as if each was carefully planned to take her further. The way she had finally admitted to him that she had some sort of feelings towards him, even if her voice was so quiet he worried that he may have imagined it.

With his focus diverted to her, the arid walk to the forest seemed irrelevant, like an after-thought, and before long they were standing on the edge of the trees. It was here Adrian realized that what he thought had been a densely packed area of trees was really nothing of the sort. In reality, the forest was quite sparse and exiguous; in fact, if you looked up the sky was startlingly visible. Its cloudless, turquoise expanse looming over them.

“Well, shall we go in m’lady?” he asked, sweeping his hand outward. She rolled her eyes and muttered something under her breath but she went in regardless.

As she walked in, Adrian realized that they were sorely under-resourced for this kind of mission. The forest was impressively large, and even if it was relatively devoid of trees and shrubs, it would still take hours to search it completely. “Hey,” Adrian said, reaching for her shoulder to stop her from diligently soldiering on, “How are we supposed to find someone in here? This place is huge.”

She paused, scanning their surroundings, “You’ve got a point Chase,” she admitted, “I guess our best option would be to split up and look around, maybe find a vantage point a sniper might like. From there, if we don’t find them I guess we can find somewhere to meet up.” Adrian nodded slowly, although he was too preoccupied being upset that they would have to split up to truly understand what she was saying. She continued again, “I’ll radio Harcourt to tell her the plan, you go west, I’ll go east. We’ll walk to the edge of the forest and from there converge in the north. Check out high points and anything suspicious, if we find anything, radio each other. This guy is definitely a professional, so don’t engage unless we’re both there, or unless you’re one hundred percent sure that you can neutralize him without killing him. Remember, if he dies, Waller will make sure we do too. Got it?”

“Uh, yeah,” Adrian said, “hey if you want, I can go east. I was just thinking that there are more trees eastward and since I have a helmet and you don’t I’m sure you could use the shade. Plus, this suit is insulated so it’s like a meat freezer in here, if you know what I mean.”

“Ugh, gross,” she said, “but whatever. Thanks, I guess.”

Adrian nodded enthusiastically in response, but by then she had already turned her back to him, the duffel bag of gear swinging as she slowly disappeared into the trees. With a sigh, Adrian readjusted the strap of his own duffel bag and turned towards the expanse he was to explore.

For the most part, his scouting was relatively uneventful. Occasionally, he would hear a rustle of leaves or a snapped twig, but when he went to check it out it would be nothing but the wind or a small animal. He spent most of the time lost in his thoughts, consumed by the hurricane of events that had preceded what he was doing now. The hotel room, the cuddling, the confession; just a few hours ago he had felt abandoned. Like the earth and the sky and everyone else was leaving him, off to live their happily ever afters without him.

But then, she had said those magical words, and Adrian’s world changed. No longer had he been left behind; now he was one with the earth and the sky and everyone else. He was one of them, ready to live out his own happily ever after with her. He repeated her words over and over in her head like a mantra, I don’t really mind working with you, he whispered to himself, taking steps in tandem with his words.

I don’t really mind working with you. One step.

I don’t really mind working with you. Two steps.

I don't really mind work—

“Chase,” he heard, the staticky chatter of the radio pulling him from his thoughts. “I think I see him, I just sent you my loca—” But then her voice was interrupted by a sickeningly familiar sound. One that rooted Adrian to his spot and sent chills cascading down his spine. A brief whistle of air followed by a startling crack as loud as a firework.

A gunshot.

Adrian began to panic. A gunshot was bad, very, very bad. She hadn’t been wearing a bulletproof vest. He had convinced her earlier that it was a needless precaution. It was dangerously hot outside and it would only slow them down. Besides, it wasn’t as if they were going to take him down alone.

By now they had to have been at least a mile away from each other. Even if he sprinted it would take him at least eight minutes to get there, and he wasn’t sure she had that long. For all he knew he could she could be dead.

That thought startled him into clarity, and in his newfound rationality he dropped the duffel and began running back where he came, digging furiously through his belt for his phone. Her coordinates only brought more bad news. Like he suspected, she was over a mile away. If she had been shot in the heart — which wouldn’t be unexpected, considering how good of a shot their suspect was — she would probably have died by now. A shot to the abdomen wasn’t good either. A few more minutes and she would be dead.

For now, Adrian could only cling onto the hope that maybe, just maybe, she hadn’t been the one to get shot. Maybe she shot him, or it was just a hunter somewhere miles away. Anything other than face the possibility that he may never see her again.

While he was running — branches scratching at his arms and rocks digging into his shoes — he came to another terrifying realization. Like him and Chris, she had a life outside of this. A life that he didn’t know, and that didn’t know him. She had other friends and other coworkers, and there was a frighteningly real chance that if she did die, he would never make it to her funeral. He would never be able to say his final goodbye. Never be able to at least cling onto her palm, no matter how cold it was, and tell her that he always loved her and that he’d never get over her.

And then with a shiver he realized it was all his fault.

He had been the one to convince her to take off her vest. He had been the one to propose they switch sides. He had been the one to make her life hell these past days. With his incessant pestering and teasing and blabbering. He should’ve been the one coming face-to-face with their sniper. His suit was already bulletproof, there would be no harm to him. She would come for back-up, they’d take him down, and maybe Adrian would even ask her out.

And now he wouldn’t even have the chance.

Adrian kept running throughout the forest. It was all he could do. All he knew how to do. One foot in front of the other. One step. Two steps. Three steps. Just like she had done just hours before when they were entering the forest. Just like she had before she fell victim to its cruel inhabitant.

His mind would’ve only spiraled further if his thoughts hadn’t been interrupted. From his belt, his radio began to chirp its small, static song. Without slowing down, Adrian pulled at the radio, holding it close to his ear to hear what was coming out.

“Where are—”

“Hel—”

“He got aw—”

“Tell Har—”

He could hear her voice crackling in and out of the receiver. Her voice was small and croaky. As if every word was strenuous and difficult. It did, however, bring a glimmer of hope. If she was strong enough to click the button of the radio and strong enough to lift it to her face, then there was a chance that she would be strong enough to hold on a little longer.

“Just wait,” he whispered into the radio, more of a plea than a request. “Please god, just wait. Please. Please. Please. You can’t go. Don’t go,” he babbled, realizing that tears had begun to stream down his face, soaking the inside of his mask. He kept rambling into the radio as he ran, not really knowing what he was saying and not really caring either.

After what seemed like a painfully long time, Adrian arrived at her location: a brief clearing near a cliffside. For a moment he couldn’t find her, and his heart was seized with panic and fear. The sight was unsettlingly macabre. In the center was a haunting trail of sticky blood. The crimson liquid tainting the green grass beneath it. His eyes traced up its winding path until he saw her, slumped over against a tree.

Her hands laid on either side of her, their palms facing the sky. The sight of her reminded him of biblical paintings he saw during his childhood. Jesus, his palms up to the sky, praising the Lord and readying himself to ascend to the heavens. It also reminded him of a sacrifice. As if someone had propped her up against the tree to sacrifice to some cruel god. Although, Adrian supposed, it was clear now that all gods were cruel. Cruel because they let her get hurt. Cruel because they made it his fault. Cruel because they made him love her.

He realized then that he hadn’t moved since entering the clearing and so he hastily rushed over to her. His hands fumbled and shook as he reached for her wrist. It was limp and pliable in his grip, but he could ever so faintly feel the whisper of a pulse. “Come on,” he whispered to her, “wake up. Come on. Wake up. Come on. Wake up.” Over and over again he repeated this, although it worked more to calm him than to stimulate her.

The first thing he needed to do was stop the bleeding. And yet, there was so much blood that he could barely tell where it began. At that point, his hyperventilating had begun to fog up his helmet, and so he lifted it off so he could care for her, frantically shoving his glasses onto his face. The lack of his helmet, however, made everything seem so much worse. With the red tint of his visor no longer there to mask some of the damage, he was forced to face the extent of her wounds head-on.

Clenching his hands into balls, he took a shaky breath to steady himself. Carefully, he began to feel around her abdomen, caressing the smooth canvas of her skin until he found it. The divot of a gunshot. As far as he knew it hadn’t hit anything vital, although he worried that it was dangerously close to her spinal cord.

Adrian swiveled around, searching for the duffel bag. It would have first aid in it, gauze, bandages, painkillers, but it was nowhere to be found. He realized that their mystery sniper had most likely taken it, and then he remembered why they had the duffel in the first place. The mission. Quickly, he grabbed the radio off of his belt, cursing as he fumbled wildly with the controls until he could tune into Harcourt and Chris’ frequency.

“Help,” he said frantically. “Help. Help. We need help. She got shot. I’ll send you our coordinates, just get help,” he said, too frenzied to add anything more.

He had to stop the bleeding. He had to find something that he could use to wrap it, to apply pressure. There was no duffel, no gauze, no bandages, so did the only thing he could think to do. He started undressing. As fast as he could he started shedding his gear, cursing his past self for adding so many layers.

After a frustratingly long time, he was finally left in a long-sleeve black shirt. Hastily, he ripped a large piece off the bottom and prepared to lift her. Adrian sat down next to her, and trying to be as careful as possible, slowly lifted her into his lap so that her head was resting on his leg. From this position, it was much easier for him to navigate her body. For him to carefully and tightly wrap the strip of cloth around her waist. For him to gently wipe some of the hair off of her bloodied face. For him to grip onto her hand and whisper that everything would be alright.

But there was too much blood, he realized. It didn’t make sense, it wasn’t possible to lose such a large amount of blood from one gunshot, which meant there had to be another. He looked back at the trail of blood. She was the strongest person he knew, if she dragged herself to the tree he knew it would be because she had to. With a bout of clarity, he began scanning her legs until his eyes rested on another wound.

This gunshot was located on her thigh, just above her knee. It was slowly spitting up blood, the liquid oozing out in small rivulets. Cursing under his breath, he fished a knife out from his belt and, carefully, cut away the cloth around it. He hastily peeled off his shirt so that he could construct a tourniquet and began to tie it around her leg, just above the wound.

Adrian held his breath as he watched the wound on her leg. To his relief, it had slowly stopped bleeding, and he let out a sigh. “I’m sorry,” he whispered to her, stroking some hair off of her forehead, “I’m so sorry. It should’ve been me, this is all my fault.”

Then, for some reason Adrian couldn’t understand, he was overwhelmed with the urge to be close to her. And very carefully, he lifted her from where she lay and pulled her close to him so that her back was against his chest.

In these moments while he waited for the team to find them, it was quiet. With her against him, Adrian felt oddly peaceful. He felt placid. He felt as if he were floating in the middle of an ocean. He let himself be buoyed by the waves, opened himself up to the gentle lull of their movement. And so because he was very tired — after all he had been through so much already — he let himself close his eyes. He let himself dream.

He dreamed that they were in Paris, sitting on a balcony and watching the sun set. Her, leaning against him like she was now, and him with his arm around her waist, stroking the plane of her side tenderly. Once the sun set, they would stare with awe and amazement at just how quickly the city transformed. How it became bright and vibrant. How the Eiffel Tower lit up the night sky. She would stare up at him, and in her eyes would be a twinkle so bright and loving that it would outshine every other light in the city.

Or if they weren’t in Paris, perhaps they were in the Bahamas. Where the sky was always clear and the ocean was always blue. Where the sun was always shining, but not as forcefully as it had before. Instead, the sun’s rays would be gentle, a delight instead of a torment. They would be sitting along the beach, the sand nestled in between their toes, and Adrian would smile lazily down at her, and she would smile back.

By the time she woke up, Adrian had been in the hospital for over a day. They had been lucky though. The team had found them quickly and their sniper was caught fleeing the scene. The surgery went smoothly, and when it was done the doctors informed that team that had the bullet had narrowly missed her spinal cord as well as several internal organs. She would be in a coma, they told him, due to her severe blood loss but she would be awake again soon.

Adrian didn’t consider that lucky though. Luck was not getting shot in the first place. Luck was never being assigned to this wretched mission at all. Luck was being able to live your life without worrying about which government official was going to risk your life for some stupid political campaign.

He couldn’t help but be mad. At the sniper, at the team, at himself. It was all so preventable. If he had just pushed Harcourt a little further for a new teammate. If he had just kept his mouth shut instead of suggesting they switch sides. If he had just gotten there a little bit faster or tied the tourniquet a little bit tighter.

“I said the bed was too big because of something that happened before I joined the team,” she said, her voice small and raspy, and Adrian looked up. He had been so engrossed in his thoughts that he hadn’t even noticed her stir from her hospital bed.

“What?” he asked, too shocked to say anything else.

“A few years ago,” she said, letting out a deep sigh, “I was an A.R.G.U.S. agent. I was young and dumb and reckless and I became friends with a fellow agent, Jason. One day, we were working a mission. We were in a big clearing and I was stupid and walked right in without checking for traps. It was a set-up of couse, and I got shot.” Adrian took in a sharp breathe at this, but she waved her hand dismissively and continued. “It wasn’t bad, just nicked my arm.”

“But Jason had followed me, and he wasn’t so lucky. He got shot in the chest, and before I knew it he was on the ground. It was a terrible feeling. We were like some dumb animal, wandering straight into a trap where we could just be plucked off one by one. I had no shield, no cover, nothing. There were bullets flying around me and I didn’t know what to do.

“I wasn’t thinking straight and so I did the first thing I could think of and ran back where I came from, leaving Jason behind. Once I was in the forest, I could see what happened to him. He had been shot more times than I could count. None of them fatal, which is worse. Eventually the bullets stopped, but I couldn’t go back out there. I watched, less than six feet away as one of my best friends choked to death on his own blood. All because of me.

“I remember what it felt like attending his funeral. It was in a cathedral. The ceiling was so high and the whole place was so open. It reminded me of when he died. Of the openness, of the vulnerability, of the shame.

“I realized then why A.R.G.U.S. tells you not to befriend any of your coworkers. It’s because you get close to them. And when they inevitably die, you obsess over it. And they were right. I did. I couldn’t stop thinking about how scared I had been, and how scared Jason must have been. I was able to get away relatively unharmed, but Jason’s body had been mutilated so badly the funeral had to be closed-casket.”

“That’s why you dragged yourself to the tree,” Adrian whispered quietly.

She nodded, and there was a hint of sadness behind her smile. “Why’d you tell me this?” Adrian asked softly, “I mean, I appreciate it but, it’s not exactly ‘in-character’ for you.”

She laughed lightly, “Well you saved my life out there Adrian. If it weren’t for you I would just be another Jason. I owed you one, and now my debt is repaid.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t get there in time,” he whispered, reaching out tentatively to grab her hand.

She let him grab it, and when he did she squeezed it back. “I’m sorry I’ve been such a terrible teammate.”

“Don’t say that, you’ve been perfect. You’re perfect,” he said.

Adrian smiled at her, and she smiled back. Once Adrian had considered her an enigma. A mystery. An equation waiting to be solved. But here in the hospital, with its fluorescent bulbs humming lightly and the dull buzz and whirs of the machines, he realized that she was anything but. At the end of the day, she was just a girl — a person, like him — who was scared. Who was haunted by the ghosts of her past. Who was more comfortable locking things away than presenting them freely. Who would rather be seen as someone intimidating and formidable than caring and emotional. And it was so simple, he realized, the basis of her being. Her motives, her desires, her wants. They were basic. They were human.

And yet as simple as they were, there was a layer of complexity to them. There was a layer of complexity to her. In a way, she reminded him of a bank vault. The mechanics of the door — the locks, the screws, the bolts — were intensely complicated. They were purposely designed to be impenetrable. Each facet was orchestrated so carefully so that the treasures inside would never be seen without the right password.

But now, Adrian had the right password. And when he was finally able to get past the vault's solid doors and view the treasure inside, he could finally appreciate just how beautifully simple it was. The luxuries inside were akin to diamonds, both in beauty and personality.

Like a diamond, she too had experienced a life of suffocating pressure. Pushing down farther and farther on her until finally, she did not crack, but instead became an impeccable jewel. A stone, unrivaled in its beauty and worth, with not even the slightest impurity to desecrate it. A diamond was beautiful because it was perfectly simple, just like her.

And it was this limbo, this teetering balance of complex simplicity that she was so comfortable in, that had drawn Adrian, like a moth to a flame, into her. It was this limbo that had allured him so intensely, so powerfully, that he could not bear to turn away. And it was in this limbo, Adrian knew, that he loved her, and that he would always love her. For he had become hers. And he knew this because his heart, his soul, and his livelihood had become clutched tightly in her grasp.

And while he watched her smile at him, her eyebrows finally uncreasing, he hoped that whatever god was out there would not be so cruel as to make her let go.

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