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#<- saving for my own reference in case i forget what he looks like (i wont)
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♡ Puppy-lovin' ♡
A/N: Oh my goodness this took me FAR TOO LONG!!!! Commission of headcanons for my lovely sunshine anon, THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATIENCE MY DARLING!!!
Even more headcanons of puppy hybrid and Leon shenanigans!!!
Warnings/content: 2nd person (you/yours), fem pup hybrid reader, grumpy ol' man Vendetta Leon, Leon is referred to as daddy! lots and lots and LOTS of fluff!!! Headcanons!!!
Word count: 3,250 approx.
꒰꒰・┄┄┄┄┄┄・♡・┄┄┄┄┄┄・꒱꒱
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What is his biggest pet peeve that she does? (Ik he's obsessed with her HAHA but he  i s  still a grump at times, after all)
TEETHING. That sweet fluffy baby chews on ANYTHING she can get her little canines on. Food and water bowls, toys, chair legs, trashcans, clothes, towels, shoes. Leon has to sit you down and explain that yes you do have very pretty chompers and yes the hybrid vet said they were very healthy and you were a good girl for brushing them on your own but that doesn’t mean you have to PROVE A POINT WITH SAID TEETH!!!! SAVE IT FOR THE SQUEAKY TOYS!!!!! HIS COMBAT BOOTS DID NOT DESERVE THAT GNAWING!!!!!!
I also feel like her whimpering might sometimes get to him?? Depending on his mood. Like making dinner? Whimper. He’s in the bathroom? Whimper. Reading files? Whimper. Tv without her? Whimper. Broken record. His puppy just wants to be around him any time she can because that’s her daddy obviously, and he loves her to bits, but sometimes the man just wants to take a piss alone! We’re talking he gets a few fingers gently bapping at the gap between the floor and the door out of curiosity with mixed whines, or sometimes he has to keep it open a crack so you can hold his hand as he goes. You’re so damn lucky he loves you and that thumping tail of yours.
“Listen, listen, a man has the right to pee in peace. My puppy says otherwise, okay?” -Likely said by Leon as he’s laughing to one of his coworkers about your behaviour. 
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What's something that'll make him go "Who did this, hm?" And she's like- anxiously wags,,,, like when dogs know they're guilty n stuff 😭
ONCE MORE THE CHEWING!!!! I also feel like she can’t be trusted with porcelain or glass for obvious reasons (cough cough Picture Perfect fic cough) so if he does let her eat with him at a table or anything it’s gotta be plastic. One time she’s wanting to be helpful and get him a glass of water as they’re winding down for the night, he came home from a long tedious day of work, and on her way to the faucet she’s still so excited about him being back that she completely forgets she is in fact holding a glass. When it hits the floorboards it’s instant chaos, babygirl’s sitting there staring at the shards like ‘uh oh uh oh uhohuhoh-’ and not knowing what else to do she puts a pillow over it. Because yeah honey, he’s totally gonna think that's perfectly normal.
So obviously when Leon finds it, seeing the pieces collected in a neat little pile under a cushion, he’s giving a call. 
“Sunshine. C’mere a second, baby.”
And you toddle your way in with that tail slightly tucked, not making eye contact. Oh he already knows what’s going on, you’ve never been very good at lying.
“Y’know, it’s funny sweetheart. I come home from a long day of work, have an amazing dinner with my favourite girl in the world, take a nice hot shower and start getting ready for bed. But right as I’m turning the lights off, I find this.” He gestures rather pointedly to the cushion atop the glass shards. 
“And I’m thinkin’, hm, that’s odd. So I pick it up, and look at what’s hiding under it.” Picking it up by a corner of the casing, he makes sure to add an over dramatic gasp. “Broken glass! Isn’t that the strangest thing, puppy? I mean, what are the odds?” His broad shoulders shrug as if he himself can’t believe this ‘totally random’ sequence of events leading to a pile of glass ‘randomly’ appearing under a pillow. “You wouldn’t happen to know who did this, now would you honey?”
You’ve got your cute butt planted on the floor by now, looking up at him rather pitifully. Staring from beneath your lashes, tail slowly wagging back and forth across the hardwood, ears pressed back. 
When you do finally speak, it’s a mumble of “I was getting you water n’ I forgot…”
He cocks an eyebrow at you. “You.. forgot? You forgot what, sweetpea?”
“...Forgot I was holding the glass..”
Oh his heart just melts. You’re an angel, a bit of a dummy at times, but such an angel. Leon can only shake his head with a chuckle, placing a kiss to the crown of your head. “My sweet, silly girl. Let’s get this cleaned up then, alright?”
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Do you think Leon will have his days where he needs space from her from a difficult mission/assignment?
It’s a 50/50 depending on how hard the mission was. If we’re talking like freshly Vendetta Leon then definitely. He’s just so mentally drained, sometimes he just needs to have a minute to fall face first into bed, lay there for a couple of hours. He’ll leave to go to the bathroom and hear your paws padding after him but he just doesn’t have the energy to do anything more then pet you as he goes to grab another drink from the fridge. Sometimes alcohol, sometimes soda. It depends on how shitty he’s feeling, how much he wants to torture himself.
Sometimes you sit at the door with a meek whimper and swishing tail, at first confused as to why he’s so down. Pawing at the wood grain like the poor dumb girl you are, missing your favourite person and just wanting to be there with him. From time to time you crawl up into bed next to him, slipping under his arm to lay your face in the crook of his bicep, often to receive a gentle pet. “I just need a second, puppy. You’re my good girl, though.”
A few times you’ve asked him why he gets like that, why he seems to sink back into himself, and he just sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. “Y’know how you get upset after the vet, cause they prod at your teeth with the nasty tasting gloves and you have to get your shots?”
“Uh huh.”
“Well sometimes Daddy gets like that after a really really hard day at work.”
“..If I put a Hello Kitty bandaid on it and..” You scrunch your little nose in thought, “..buy you a stuffie for being brave will you feel better?”
And he just chuckles fondly, giving your hair a gentle ruffle. God, you’re too sweet. “Maybe baby, maybe.”
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Do you think he'll get better with the drinking with her around, or do you think he still drinks? I imagine that she's not a fan, if he still does!
He definitely tries his best to at least cut down on the drinking, but I doubt he’s entirely sober since - well, it’s Leon - but he really doesn’t feel the need to sometimes. Usually when something shitty goes down he instantly goes for the bottle, but now? Now it takes a lot more to drive him into that spiral. 
Most of the time when his depression hits it’s like you sense it, call it that puppy instinct, and you’re toddling your way over to lay your head on his knee and whimper. He tries not to get too drunk, he knows you hate it. How he sways and scruffs at your hair sometimes a little too hard. But he’s trying. Tries to substitute the shitty burning taste of whiskey with spicy foods as an alternative, or punish himself through tonic water only to look like an angry cat once the glass is finished. Anything other than alcohol if he can stomach it.
Because he doesn’t want you to remember him as someone who drank all the time, he wants you to remember how on the bad days he opened his arms to you and let you lay atop his chest as his own personal weighted blanket. How despite how he used to snap and draw away from everyone, how he’d shoot whiskey like it was water, you coming into his life made it all feel so much easier.
He wants you to remember that you made it easier. You made it better.
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When she gets in trouble, what is it for? And is there any form of "punishment" or "grounding"? 
Timeout is HUGE, I don’t think he’d have the heart to actually ground her. One bat of those big babydoll eyes and he has to remind himself NOT to cave. The only thing he can’t do is take her toys away, that would eat the big guy up inside AND out, he knows how much you adore your stuffies and squeakies. 
Usually it’s just lockup time in her pen to sit and think about what she did, doing his best to ignore the pitiful sound of your whines of guilt. He knows you hate timeout, but he doesn’t really know how else to punish you! That or taking away your weekly movie night until you behave, which means no 2 or so hours of uninterrupted cuddle time on daddy’s lap, which is worse than a jail sentence in your opinion. 
The cone of shame has yet to be used, same for muzzles. You’ve cut it pretty close a few times with any of the ladies who stick around and talk to him too long though! He had no clue his sweet sunshine baby had a knack for nipping at ankles.
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Does she beg for food, and if so, how does Leon go about dealing with it?
BIG puppy dog eyes at the table, sitting at his feet. Sometimes he caves, because duh, you’re his baby. But Chris keeps saying he needs to be more stern so he tries and tries and TRIES. But you have those HUGE glossy blinkers on blinky mode up at him, and your tail is swish swish swishing happily against the wooden grain and you just look so ready to get a little bite of whatever he’s got and who is he to deny you? You who wakes him up with kisses and cuddles, who trots along behind him everywhere he goes. You sit at the window and wait for him to get home from work for god’s sake, surely a little piece of food is nothing, right?
He’ll do it cause he loves you, other times cause he wants to see how you’ll react. One time you gave him the puppy stare for a lick of the hot sauce he got to go with his wings, which was a moment of instant regret on your end. Leon had to bite back the biggest smile with an “Is it good, baby?” Watching you smack your lips and tongue with a scrunched up face and furrowed eyebrows. Shaking your head around and yapping as if the taste was a personal attack on you.
Sometimes you even get fancy with it, padding from leg to leg at his feet, doing little spins out of excitement for whatever tasty morsel he’s about to drop into your mouth. I mean c’mon, how is he supposed to resist it?
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How does he interact with her in his depressive states, and how does she comfort him?
You 100% believe he needs a stuffie. So you’re dropping your toys in his lap with big wet eyes and a slow swaying tail. It has to make him feel better, right?
Leon has two main moods when he’s in his depressions. ‘I’ve ruined everything, no one come near me.’ And ‘I’ve ruined everything, please don’t leave me alone.’ Swinging between these moods like an unstable seesaw, but he just can’t bring himself to pull you down with it. Who is he to look you in the eye and tell you to go away, when all you want to do is help? You’re not a bad girl, not a bad dog, so why should he lecture you on behaviour that comes as natural to you as breathing? Your kindness and need to ensure he’s as happy as you are, it’s practically built into your little puppy brain. Because he’s your daddy, and you love him. 
So he tries his hardest. He lays on the couch for his usual hour of slumping but keeps an eye out for a swishing tail, an ear out for any little whimpers. You’re climbing into his lap, crawling all over him to put your weight on him, cuddling up like a plush toy. 
And he wraps his arms around you silently, letting you be his anchor.
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When she asks to come with him to work, how does he respond? (Bc obvi she can't come fight bioweapons with him,,)
Sometimes he’ll take her when he has desk duty and Hunnigan just MELTS she LOVES your sweet little tailed self. But other times either he has to call Becca and Claire over to babysit you, cause there’s no way that he can leave his poor sweet girl at home alone! And you whimper and whine the whole time but it’s either that or coax you to go to the DSO before Claire comes to pick you up after the work day is finished.
Like how is he supposed to look at you and go ‘no baby you can’t go with daddy to work because daddy shoots bugs and-’ 
BUGS? YOU LOVE BUGS!!!! BUGS DESPISE YOU SO YOU’LL BE SO GOOD ON BUG DUTY!!!!
“I know puppy, I know. But daddy’s going in a biiiiiiig metal bird, and I know you love to chase birds so I can’t take you with me. Cause what if you bite the bird too hard, huh? Then daddy can’t buy you new toys! Can’t have that happening, sunshine. So, how about this. You can sit at daddy’s desk next to miss Hunnigan and when I talk to her over the little ear phone she can pass it over to you and you can have a chat with me. Is that okay? Yeah?”
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How does he react when she catches things for him, like bugs or something? (he def didn't ask her to LOL) I feel like she'd be eyeing a moth or something and be like omg a present for daddy :33 (she has good intentions fs)
That man honestly gets a leaf bug or moth at his feet once a month. A little half chewed, he saw you spitting out tufts of wing a few minutes ago so he can guess that’s why. You’ve always been a jumper, pouncing and bouncing around the yard or when he takes you for walks. So it’s no wonder you started up this habit.
“Yes- yes baby, I know you got it just for me and- mhm. Mhm I do love it honey but I just think- And I’m so proud of you for hunting it all on your own but sweetpea how about instead you bring me.. I don’t know, fuck- wait don’t say that word. Hm. I don’t know leaves you find interesting.”
Stupid man. Dumb dumb idiot man. Next thing he knows there’s a small collection of leaves lined up at the back door. He’s gotta figure out an alternative and fast, boy. 
Has he ever had to bandage her up bc she did something dumb that he warned her not to do? 😭
That girl’s mortal enemy is anything that like, rears up at her. Praying Manti, spiders, grasshoppers, wasps and bees. If it moves, and it moves in a way that she perceives as a threat, it will be bapped with her hand.
“Hey- hey woah woah woah woah woah- easy there, tiger.” He’s scooping you up off the grass as you’re growling and yapping at whatever insect has made the mistake of buzzing too close to his sweet girl. “That’s a praying mantis, baby. If one of those big claws gets you, it’s gonna scare the sh- ahem, it’s probably gonna spook you.”
Five minutes later when he sets you back down he hears a startled yelp followed by you scampering around the backyard waving your face back and forth. Yeah he should’ve expected that. Watching as you finally flick the bug away with a huff of disapproval, which is followed by a very overdramatic whimper in Leon’s direction. Obviously need of love and affection after such a traumatic experience. Nothing a bit of antiseptic and plenty of well placed kisses won’t fix.
SO many scrapes. Bee stings, ant bites, mosquito bites, scratches and bruises from bouncing around the yard and house. He had to buy the Sanrio bandaids to patch you up or you refused to sit still. Thankfully your new favourite thing is barking at the other hybrids on the tv, an activity that WON’T result in several bruises. Maybe an earache or two, perhaps a sore throat, but hey, that’s better than box up on box of bandaids. 
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When he wants her inside, and she does that one excited play pose (you know the one HAHA), does he entertain it, or does he know better to just go inside because she'll follow? LMAO
You’re padding your way around through the grass of the backyard, tail high and wagging proudly. You’d been very successful in your burying of a bone, planting your own little territory outside the house, and because of that success a buzz ran through your body. Being the jitterbug you were with a case of the zoomies coming on, you gave your ears a shake out when Leon’s whistle was heard.
“Puppy? C’mon, babygirl. It’s getting dark.”
But you were just getting started! Maybe you could convince him, after all if puppies had to listen to their daddies, surely daddies had to listen to their puppies right? That’s, like, the law. And you still have so much energy!
So, ever the bouncy pup you are, you crouch down into ‘the pose’. Everyone knows which one. The one you pull when you’re telling another hybrid you wanna play, the half bow with you eyes locked on him and a fast wagging tail.
“Baby- no. Oh, don’t give me that face..” Leon runs a hand over his face with a long sigh, biting back a smile with all the teeth he can manage.  
But you’re giggling with that big grin on your face, hands braced like paws against the grass and ears perked up expectantly.
“Honey..no. Now-
As soon as he takes a step towards you, no matter how small it is, you’re jumping in a little circle with happy yaps. Next thing he knows you’ve got the zoomies, and you’re bounding your way through the freshly-clipped lawn. All he can really do is lean against the outside wall and wait for you to run out of energy, arms crossed with a grin on his face. IIt doesn’t last too long thankfully, a few bounces, a couple of spins and you’re trotting over to him panting. He watched the whole thing, your tail wagging a gazillion miles an hour each time you hopped, skipped, and jumped. You always found endless ways to entertain yourself outside, Leon really didn’t know how you did it. 
 And yeah, it was getting dark out, but it was only a few minutes more of watching his sweet girl bound around happily, he’d only really try to rouse on you if it was for your safety. But right now? As your big eyes watch fireflies fill the backyard’s air, pawing weakly up at them between giggles, he knows it’s worth it. 
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puphoods · 2 years
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i know exactly what all three of them look like i can see them in my mind theyre so real. but i cannot draw that good to be able to get it right
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hazelfoureyes · 5 days
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A Doe in Fall (part 10)
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⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall
A burlesquer with a penchant for conning men, you find your latest game interrupted when your next mark saves you from an aggressive fan— by killing him. The chance encounter left you curious, still half convinced you could complete your normal chase. Unbeknownst to you, you were the one being tracked.
Part 1 - Pretty in Red smut💦 Part 2 - Liar smut💦 Part 3 - A Tragedy smut💦 Part 4 - Enough Part 5 - Too Much Part 6 - Learning smut💦 Part 7 - Recognition smut💦 Part 8 - Trust sexual 🥵 Part 9 - Shiny Things Part 10 - Good Deeds 📍
Part 10 Good Deeds
Alastor takes you out as promised, but work/hobbies call him away. Not that you mind, you have your own hobbies to pick up.
「Warnings/Promises: Human Alastor x Fem!Reader, references to racial violence, reference to a word that’s now very much a slur, Hate for Aubrey, inaccurate portrayal of how easy it was to drink, oh yeah murder, mentions of a dismembered body, bloody shoes, physics hijinks with a corpse, these idiots in love, gators aaaaaye baby, domestic fluff?? Kind of?? Did I do it?!」
I think about Emmett Till often. Though his heinous murder came after the time this story is set, what happened to him wasn’t an isolated incident. So it is referenced here in a sense, because I can’t stop thinking about him when I think about racial violence in the south both what it looked like before and what it looks like now. I don’t say anything explicit and change the act, but it is still important to warn you. If you don’t know about the tragic death of Emmett, here’s a site with links to articles and essays. Be careful, it is awful and his deceased and battered face will come up on some links, as his mother wanted the world to see what they did to her baby. It’s an image I cannot forget and I rightfully shouldn’t. I know it’s off to have such a heavy topic before this love story but this case is the kind that would motivate such a killer as Alastor, and I don’t want to miss an opportunity to remind us of Emmett’s short life even if it’s done in a silly fanfic surrounded by nonsense. So forgive me for perhaps an odd real life addition, I’d be disappointed in myself for not addressing it when Emmett has been on my mind every time I think about the era someone like Alastor could have lived in. An era that did exist and people did live and suffer in.  An era not far removed from us, my father was alive when this happened.
Part 10 - Good Deeds
minors if you interact I will interpret that as a deep hate for me as a person so MDNI 👌🏼
“I’ve got to speak with the valet, go on ahead and find a table you like.” 
You didn’t want to do that at all, but knew Alastor wouldn’t ask if he didn’t want it. Well, he didn’t really ask, did he? He was certainly in his element, the shining and towering hotel every bit as pristine as his own public image.
It was as if every head in the room spun around to look at you. Everyone’s hair freshly styled, jewelry shiny and heavy, clothes immaculate. Your dress was lovely, no doubt, but no one looks at the elephant in her tutu at the circus and proclaims, “A ballerina!” This was, rather obviously, not your scene.
Alastor had presented the dress to you so sweetly, though. You woke up to find it hanging on the closet door hook, the first thing you saw when you opened your eyes. He had either waited for you to fall asleep to hang it or woken up before you for just the reason. It was red, his favorite color for you. The latest fashion, loose and straight. No corset. The neckline showcased a large, flat bow. 
“Partly a gift for me,” he had said as his hands slid down your sides when you had gotten dressed, “Such softness shouldn’t be hidden behind rigid boning.”
You settled into a large seashell shaped booth, the back coming up and over like you were the speck of sand yet to form into a pearl. The table was small, a glittering pattern under its shiny veneer. Everything was…glistening. Even the darkness past the windows seemed to be sparkling back at you. A few people turned to look you up and down, smiling and beginning to speak to their group before even turning back to them. 
You could wither, or bloom. So you learned back as if you were bored, legs crossed and feet gently shaking with anxiety or boredom, you hoped no one could sus out which. 
It was so odd. In your usual haunts, newcomers were greeted with curious smiles and maybe the tiniest suspicions. You were being picked apart to the bone by sharp stares and even sharper tongues, no matter how silent their jabs were to you. 
“They’re probably jealous.” Your head snapped up, when had Alastor made it in? “They look at you and know, ‘oh, that’s the kind of woman my husband would rather have a conversation with.’” You laughed, you absolutely could have stolen the attention and more from at least one of these women’s husbands.
“Perhaps they recognize these earrings, gone missing from their jewelry box earlier this year.”  You weren’t above accepting a woman’s stolen jewelry. It was her husband's fault anyway, might as well enjoy it. 
Alastor’s finger came to your chin, lifting your face further into the light, “Give em a good look, darling. I want them to eat their hearts out.” The blush that swept across your features was so fierce, the difference in temperature between your cheeks and your arms caused a chill to run down to your shins. He took a seat beside you, scooting up close and flashing that smile. A smile that had you chasing him into dark alleys and grabbing dead men by the ankles. 
A waiter came by, placing a drink in front of Alastor and asking what you’d like. You were so used to being in such spaces with the kind of men who answered for you that you didn’t reply immediately. When Alastor brought his drink to his lips, you realized it was you who was expected to speak. 
“Oh! A corpse reviver please.”
The man smiled and left with a nod. Alastor choked, hitting his chest with the fleshy part of his palm, “That was intentional, wasn’t it?”
You danced in your seat, “I’ve never been somewhere that has the stock for it that I was…allowed to order what I want.”
Alastor set his drink down and leaned back, shoulder pressing into yours teasingly, “I can’t imagine anyone disallowing you a thing.” With a sigh, you reminded him of the things you did to get your marks drunk and off their guard. You were surprised when he nodded like he remembered. “I saw that! You would sit so quietly on their laps. I remember thinking you were much more boring than you had initially made me believe.” You recoiled, and he shot you a look, “Who stalked who first, hm?” 
With a huff, you let it go. You weren’t actually sure the answer to that anyway. Focus let free from Alastor, you began to notice the looks were back. But no longer cutting into you, but wide and devouring. A few smiled at Alastor, some tipped their heads to him and offered a look of recognition. “Aren’t you popular.”
“I haven’t been out in awhile. They’re probably curious.” He took another sip, “Should be, atleast.”
A prideful smile slid up your face. You uselessly tried to mask it by licking your teeth. 
Something that happened when in public with Alastor that was unlike you was the tendency to become small. Not shrinking to provide him space; it was a turning in of your shoulders and touching of your knees in a subconscious effort to curl into a little ball of joy. Actively fighting the tug, you leaned back and opened your chest. An exercise in mental focus. 
“It’s weird. How you can be friends with my kind of people and….well, whatever is happening here.” Your hand waved at the room before you both. 
“My friendship with these people compared to our friends at the dives is…. A light bulb compared to a fire. One was manufactured to fit a need, one exists somewhat naturally.”
Tall and slim, body flat from collar bones to knees, a slip of a woman entered the room and you felt a shift in the atmosphere. Her hair was short and pitch black, fashionable to say the least. A few heads turned, a few upturned lips shifted into sneers. Side glances, hushed words, intentionally heard huffs. You turned to Alastor to find his face was as confused as your own. 
“Who is that?” You said it low, not knowing if she was friend or foe. 
“That would be Mrs. Aubrey Debreaux. Popular socialite and frequent hostess.” A sip of his drink, speaking about her like a character in a novel. “This icy reception is news to me though. She’s usually the life of the party.”
“She’s a real wet blanket now…Your circles seem really fickle. Always a bit of gossip.” You realized as soon as you said it that, well, that was the point. Alastor needed the gossip, and, well, he clearly enjoyed it.
“That’s what the wealthy do. Gossip and pretend the drama is as stressful as someone looking for their next meal.” Swirling his drink absentmindedly, his eyes followed Aubrey through the hotel bar. When you asked if he knew everyone there, he said it was his job to know people.
“Your job is in radio. You host a show, Alastor.” You laughed through your nose.
“Well, my other job.”
“I’d call that a passionate hobby.” Your hand came to rest half on his and half on the booth bench low and hidden, not wanting to monopolize, but he quickly took it and held it on the table. Another struggle to keep your shoulders from drawing inward.
The room moved on, forgetting you both were there and eventually about Aubrey too. Or so you had thought. When you drink was starting to mellow you, you turned to Alastor to admire the view. You’d come to enjoy that silence, the kind that only existed between people comfortable enough to know they didn’t need to entertain each other to enjoy each other’s company.
He was scanning the bar still, elbow on the table as he rested his chin there. From a distance of space or familiarity it could be seen as boredom. But up close and personal, you could see the wheels spinning behind his eyes.
“Golly, when in Rome!” Alastor hooted and grabbed you by the hand with one of his and carried his drink in the other, “Let’s go gossip. Bring your drink.”
He pulled you into a group of four people in a circle talking. They opened and let you both in, smiles warm. A clamor of excited ‘how long has it been’s, ‘how are you’s, and ‘you look well’s.
You’d expected him to ask for gossip like he’d said, but realized that’d be pretty conspicuous. Instead he waited, and when Aubrey passed by one of them rolled their eyes and he had his opportunity.
“What’s that look for?” He asked. 
Everyone got quiet and passed a glance between them. Finally a woman in a beaded dress and finger wave bob piped up.
“She reported a young boy touched her on the street.” Alastor watched Aubrey cycle through the groups as the friend spoke. “Grazed her hip with his hands, made a comment about white women as he did it.”
Alastor’s head whipped back around. “He got taken away that night.”
You gasped, hand coming to your mouth in sincere horror, “Just for touching her? Is he still in jail?” 
The woman’s lips pursed together, no one looking at you.
“Bless your heart. He didn’t touch her and he didn’t make it to the jailhouse, sugar.”
Suddenly the way everyone was looking everywhere but at each other sunk in. 
Panicked, you looked to Alastor. His expression was still, like the calm waters of a deep and foreboding bay. What horrors lie underneath? His tongue wiped across his teeth, and you reached out to take his drink from his hand. The action snapped him out of his daze for a second, expression softening a tad as he nodded a thank you.
If he shattered that glass now, people would remember. And when Aubrey went missing they may recall Alastor’s dramatic reaction. You knew his smiles intimately, the ones that were true and the ones that were illusions. The expressions of joy and the mask for his rage. The smile painted on his face now was nothing short of shallow.
You spent so many days in a bubble with Alastor, shielded by his grace or by the accepting and illegal circles you ran in that you sometimes forgot the reality of life. A dark privilege you hadn’t seen until you were the one looking naive for once. 
That’s right. The world was a bad place, of cruelty and injustice. Not just for you, or for parts of you, or for sides of you. Not just for women with smart mouths or a love of dance. No matter how safe the comfort of your friends and the dark halls you all commiserate in, no matter the like minds and mixed complexions of your peers, you were all just one cruel voice from being dragged into the night. Just a single accusation from being a whispered story in a glittering hotel bar. A headline no one would write. 
And some of you would be mourned more than others. 
You took a second, blinking rapidly to dry your eyes. 
“Apparently, she did it to get Hubert to leave his mistress’s apartment and come home.” A short man whose name you never got took a drag of his cigarette, “Worked. He’s been yapping all week about the state of New Orleans society and the importance of protecting the fairer among us.”
Alastor was quiet still, lips tight. You’d seen the photos in his home. You’d never discussed it, no need. Things can’t become normal if you’re always pointing them out. Plus, that was his piece to share. 
“Glad to see most of us here aren’t too keen to welcome her. I’d hate to have to find another bar.” Someone said, glancing around the room. “George just started making my martinis right.”
“Care to dance?” Alastor abruptly turned his entire body to you with a slick swivel on his heels.
You nodded, offering small polite goodbyes and setting your drinks back on the table before turning to him.
His open palm was outstretched and offering you a dance. You spread your hand over his and felt him hold you firmly before pulling you into him. 
He held you so close, much closer than anyone else on the dance floor. A scandalous lack of distance between you two. Quiet, Alastor’s eyes were distant. You were in front of him but he wasn’t seeing you. You let the song carry on a little longer for appearances before sighing into a smile.
“Why are we dancing when you have work to do? You have your tools.” Looking up at a man was rarely a view you enjoyed but the way his eyes slid down his nose and landed so sharply on you made it worth it. A look that said he’d devour you if he didn’t adore you so much. Your hand snaked behind his back to touch the hidden outline of this trusty little knife. He briefly wondered if this could be considered foreplay, the way he felt your hand on his lower back and running over his weapon. Much more intimate than he’d ever let anyone else be.
As your bodies swayed, the lights slid across the curve of his eyes and lit that bright honey brown color like a diamond twirling in the sun. The facets of his irises mesmerizing you. 
How terribly did you love him? 
How far would you fall for him?
“This would be a long one. You’d be waiting… could be a couple of hours. I need to be out of sight before she leaves.” A chill. Oh, you’d forgotten for a second, Alastor was a killer. He didn’t do it for ‘justice’ alone, he enjoyed what he did. Immensely. His voice had a note of giddiness and anger that didn’t mix well, but was oddly arousing. 
“Correction, I’d be dancing for hours. Drinking. Letting handsome men waste their money on me.” 
“Oh? Can they buy me a drink, too?”
You brought up your pointer finger, “You remind her of her humanity, and I’ll get a man to buy you a drink.” 
He linked his finger with yours. “I’ll need to give her special attention. She’s earned it.”
You loosely understood this wasn’t attention like you’d be given. This was attention that ran opposite affection. 
“I’m not here to be in your way, Alastor.” A quick kiss to your hand, one you hoped no one else saw. While no one here would be bothered by Brady, you still wanted to keep some semblance of confusion on what you two were to onlookers. 
His laugh was louder than you expected, a few heads turning, “Impossible. I’m always going wherever you are, dear.”
Would you never get up again?
“I’ll stay at the bar. If they close, I’ll just go to Beth’s.” Your fingers lingered in his, “Be careful. The best good deeds are done in the dark.”
A kiss to your nose. So gentle despite the topic. You could imagine it, the violent death of a woman. You could hear the sounds. Hers, his, the knife’s. A pang of guilt set in before you could remind yourself why this woman was going to die. A tiny smile settled on your face, he offered you a gentle command in return, “Understood, honey. Be safe.” 
You let him kiss your hand again and bow out of  the dance. You were doing it, it dawned on you as you watched him walk away. Truly kissing him goodbye at the door as he went off to work. The closest you’d ever gotten, atleast. 
He stopped by a group and said some quick goodbyes, apologies for leaving early, and left the hotel bar. 
You knew he had killed women before, Alastor was all for equality, but a part of you worried. Women tend to scream louder, and be heard more often, than men. A man screams and people just…keep walking. What would he do? Where would he do it?
With a sniffle, you let the jealousy of just what he would need to do to get her alone flutter away. Taking a seat back at your table, you sipped your drink and watched the others dance and chat. How odd, they could sway in such large places with big windows and bright lights with no fear of cops. Your scenes were dark, dusty, never seeing the sky. 
“He left ya?” One of the earlier women came by, someone you vaguely remember him nodding a ‘hello’ to at some point in the evening. 
Thankfully you were still quick on your feet. “Well, we came separately, of course we’d leave separately.”
A laughed, “Of course.” She leaned down, touching at your hair for a second, curiously, “Don’t hold your breath. But, it is nice he got you in here, huh? Must be a treat for you.” 
Your own laugh was just as abrupt as Alastor’s earlier, your hand coming to hide your smile. All you could muster was a nod. Yes, you stood out. Yes, you didn’t fit in with these people for many reasons. But, it wasn’t your first time in nice spaces. First time not pressed into a man who’d been made to believe he was more important the whole time, but still. 
It took two more drinks for Aubrey to leave. But there was a problem. As she was trying to bow out of the room, a man kept hooking his fingers under the loose belt of her boxy drop waist dress.
With practiced skill, you took note of where her eyes lingered on him, how her hand came to his arm but didn’t actually press him away. Not earnestly.
The pushy man saw it too, every little soft ‘no’ was a half ‘yes’. And Aubrey seemed to like that. It was almost ironic, given what she had done, how she egged on the younger man before her now by pretending she didn’t want him. His hand landed on her hip forcefully, her hand on his chest gingerly. He leaned in close, she pulled away barely.
The next act was the most classic to women of your era. The false exit.
Aubrey whispered something, he nodded eagerly and his many hands returned to himself.
She smiled at the back of everyone’s heads, as nearly no one would look her way, and she slipped out the doors.
You couldn’t stop yourself from shimmying as you slid from your booth. Barely a step away, you leaned back and grabbed the last sip in your glass. You swished it around your mouth like listerine, and swallowed it. Before you got too close, you pinched your cheeks until your eyes began to water.
You’d just found a way to make yourself useful.
“Whoopsie Daisy!” You giggled, shoulder colliding with the man’s chest as you stumbled past.
“Watch - ooh, hey,” the free hand that had come to keep you from getting closer quickly softened, curling around your waist. The same hand that’d just been on the socialite. You were sure to look up and sigh into him, your breath soaked in alcohol. “You okay, doll? Had a bit too much?”
With glassy eyes you nodded, closing them and letting your head nod lazily, “I lost my thing!” You laughed, hitting his chest.
“Your what? I happen to be a thing.” 
How quickly he forgot his target when easier to pick fruit appeared.
“No, silly!” A practiced hiccup, “my little…”
“Your little…?”
Your fingers wiggled in the direction of your hip.
“Purse!” A beaming grin. He asked if you needed help finding it. “Well, how else am I gonna get another drink!” The hand on your waist fell to your hip and slunk lower. 
“Oh well, I could help ya with that.” He leaned in, looking around first as if he had a secret, “I have a room upstairs.”
You tutted, “No no, I am a married woman!” He lifted your left hand, turning it over in a dramatic search for a ring. “Well, engaged…” you diverted your gaze. He lifted his hand to his brow then and scanned the room like a sailor to the horizon. “He’s working late.” You whined.
Why did his kind of man always want the taken woman? Did they think the chase was more meaningful then? Did they feel like they’d won some tug-of-war with an invisible, unaware opponent?
Maybe they were hardwired to hoard resources.
You let him seat you at the bar, and when he ordered you a drink you asked to know your savior’s name. William.
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Alastor was none the wiser, smoking a cigarette under the streetlamp just off to the side of the hotel awning. He didn’t smoke often before you, but he found the lure of sitting on the porch passing a pill between you both too hard to fight. And soon enough the habit grew from a drinking pastime to just… something to do with his hands.
As Aubrey appeared, waiting for her driver to retrieve the car, Alastor tossed the butt to the street and walked up on her.
“I’m quite cross with you, Aubrey.” His tone was smiling as his hand slid behind her neck and tugged her away from the safety and lights of the awning.
“Oh! Alastor, I’m actually waiting for my car.” She struggled to keep up with his pace in her heels, weakly pointing back to where the valet had stood earlier. She resisted a little, the palm on the nape of her neck silently shutting her down.
“Nonsense. We have business together.” Alastor let his hand fall to her upper arm as he yanked her into the closest side street. “I hear you’ve been a very bad girl.”
Aubrey huffed, pulling back against him once, then twice, but ultimately acquiesced when she could see his car down the street.
“Fine, you can drive me home then.” A misplaced giggle, her survival skills dulled by ego.
He tossed her roughly against the car, hand gripping her face tightly. She tried to say his name, but his hold was so firm her jaw was locked.
“You’re going to get into my car now.” Alastor’s eyes had lost their pupil, an expanse of a seemingly endless dark brown in the heavy shadows left by the lamp’s light. When he let her face go, she rolled her eyes and pulled open the back seat door.
That wasn’t what he had meant, not there, but he closed the door behind her and got into the driver’s seat. He hadn’t brought the tarp tonight, not expecting to need it, so maybe the backseat was his best option regardless.
When he pulled away, she reminded him he didn’t know her address.
“I’m not taking you home. I told you. I have a bone to pick with you.” Alastor found himself incapable of putting on a ruse for her. His patience was entirely lost in his unraveling anger.
“Oooh? A bone, you say. Well, well.” Aubrey leaned forward onto the front seat, hands snaking down his shoulders and chest so she could nip at his ear, “Finally letting me have a ride.”
He had to set his right hand in the darkness of his lap to hide the tremble, a disgusted rage manifesting in uncommon ways. 
As her fingers found the buttons of his waist coat, Alastor struggled to see the road in front of him. His vision was going white, and then red. His blood pressure was so high he was nearly blind. 
And when two hot fingers broached the small space between buttons of his dress shirt and touched the bare skin of his chest, the car came to an abrupt halt. The force threw her into the backseat. 
Alastor slammed the front seat door shut before opening the back and caging her in. “I can’t stand another second of your existence.” She crawled backward, making room for him. “I’m going to fucking kill you.” 
Aubrey settled her back against the opposite door, “Oh, the petit mort.”
His head hung low in frustration, a growled  “No, the big one.” as he raked his fingers through his hair to keep from punching his own car seat.
“So I’ve heard.” She pulled up the hem of her dress slowly.
“For fucks sake Aubrey! I’m not using double entendre!” His hands wrapped around her neck. “Must I really remind you of what wrongs you’ve committed?!”
A brief panic finally came, “Wrongs?? Excuse you.”
He could have sworn the snap in his brain had been audible to her as he lost his last bit of patience.
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“Excuse me.” You settled back into the seat, having taken a bathroom break to down some water in secret. You weren’t trying to actually end up blacked out.
“Anyway,  that's how we secured the riverside house.” William leaned into you. You tried to sip your drink and found it empty, having managed to finish it absentmindedly while he rambled on about himself earlier. As you stared at him you let your eyes lose focus and drift into plans for the morning. You’d like biscuits. Alastor had some sausage he’d picked up the other day, maybe a little gravy and some eggs. It’d be like a Sunday meal nice families ate after church. You assumed. Out of the peripheral of your daydream you saw him tap the bar twice and hold up two fingers. “Charge to 1033.” He said. With the clarity of someone who wasn’t pretending to be drunk you quickly held up three.
William shot you a confused look.
“One for my darling.” He made a show of looking around, the bartender pausing. You gave him a confirmation nod, “Three, please.”
“And is he in the room with us now, Helen? I’m beginning to think he’s imaginary.”
It seemed a fine enough name to give him.
“No! But I made a promise. Or…,” you returned the lean, head resting on his shoulder, “are three drinks a little steep for you?“ With a huff, he pulled out a pair of C notes and set them on the bar. The bartender nodded, reaching for the top shelf. You whistled at the sight. Too much money for the total seven drinks he’d ordered, if you weren’t somewhere Alastor frequented you’d have slipped them under the lip of your stockings when the man wasn’t looking. He was charging the room anyway, the large bills were just for show…
“One reviver for the miss, one brandy for the sir, and a rye whiskey neat for the beau.” The bartender set the drinks down on red napkins. The whiskey sat between you both, and after a beat you realized you hadn’t actually told him what to make for Alastor. And come to think of it, your last drink hadn’t been a reviver at all but a brandy ordered by William.
“Ya know I stood up another woman to help you,” he said it into your cheek, stealing your attention by breaking your line of thought. His arm around your shoulder curled to hold you closer, “Don’t I get a reward for that?”
His breath reeked of sickeningly sweet brandy, the taste sticking to the back of your throat. Your head tilted back so you could look at him down your nose, right hand coming to rest on his thigh.
The heat of his body was radiating through the fabric of his pants and made your stomach turn. How many hot and sweaty bodies had you had the pleasure and displeasure of touching?
A smirk painted your face, remembering seeing sweat sticking to Alastor’s forehead the last time he fucked you. What had you done for that reward? Ah right, the somehow shocking act of not withholding praise for how well planned out his greenhouse was. How impressive he was to you in so many ways. You could have lingered on that recollection, on how Alastor set down his coffee and kissed you. And how he didn’t stop until you were both left undone and flustered. But movement stirred away the pleasant memory to bring you back to an unpleasant reality.
His hand roamed down your arm, uncomfortably warm palm on your exposed skin. 
“Oh, I know you did.” You said.
William chuckled, absolutely no idea what you were talking about and not particularly giving a shit. “Did I mention I have a room here?”
“Ten thirty three.” You repeated. 
He looked genuinely shocked, “How’d you know that?” The man was absolutely mystified.
“I— you just…,” your mask slipped in the face of such abject stupidity, “Lucky guess.” William drank his brandy slowly, mentioning you should bet on the ponies together. You nodded. 
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Alastor didn’t care for strangulation. It took so much time and wasn’t particularly satisfying. No pleading, no screaming, no blood and gore. Just…. someone flailing beneath you and turning purple. Boring. 
He brought up the accusations before he began to squeeze, and her panic transformed to relief. “Oh that?” She tried to sit up, but he pushed her back down, “Are you really miffed at me about that?”
“Yes, Aubrey! You condemned an innocent child to a horrid death!” His hands loosened, all of his neurons firing off to feel pain in his own heart. 
She rolled her eyes, “I wouldn’t call them children. You seem so upset, hun. Did you have a mam-?”
The rest of the word was barely squeaked out of her, he couldn’t let her finish it. He wasn’t sure what face he made. But whatever it was, it scared her. The carefree way she’d been handling the interaction finally died, and he could register actual fear in her eyes then. 
But the rage just … withered. How many children had his mother loved and doted on before her last, much kinder position? How many Aubreys had she raised. It was nothing short of an overwhelmingly violent sadness that laced his finger together around her neck and tightened, the full weight of his body coming down to crush her airways. He wanted such sentiments to be smothered out of the world like the air in her lungs. If he killed enough, could he make a dent in their influence? He could try. For her. For his mother. 
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“Ya know, I could take real good care of you. If that’s what’s stopping you from coming upstairs.” 
With a deep breath, you gulped the drink halfway down. “Your fella doesn’t need to know. I could even get you your own place, you could wait for me there when he’s late with work. Have dinner ready. Slip off my shoes like a good girl.”
“Trust me; you’ve got a better chance of her smacking you with your shoes than slipping them off like a maid.” Alastor was resting his elbow on the bar behind you, head leaning on his hand. “Hey doll. That one mine?” He pointed at the glass.
“Oh? Alastor is the fiancé?,” William gave off a snide laugh as he was interrupted, Alastor standing up and walking to come between you two, “This guy?! Everyone knows he’s a frigid bitch. You must be a dive alley-cat if you’re—,” Alastor’s fist connected with the man’s jaw, eliciting a sickening crack. He needed both hands to keep himself from falling down with William as he was knocked back out of his bar stool. Alastor’s feet slipped on the spilt brandy, causing him to seize the stool for momentary support.
Alastor took the glass of whiskey with his non-dominant hand and downed it. He cooed, “Top shelf, Georgie?” The bartender nodded. “Good choice. Picked a worthy sucker, sweetheart. Ready to peel?”
You watched William try to stand, glass stuck to his palm. He did manage to get on his knees, shouting at the staff who stood motionless and unphased behind the counter. They didn’t say anything at all, oddly, until Alastor extended his swelling hand to you.
“Have a good evening, sir.”
Alastor flashed his signature smile and guided you out of the hotel bar. You only got a few steps before quickly running back and snatching one of the 100$ bills from the counter. William would’ve taken it back from the bar anyway. What a waste!
When a waiter offered Alastor a warm and familiar look you had to wonder, did people really not know what he did in the darkness of the New Orlean’s alleys? Did a part of them not feel some kind of debt to him? Or was he just painfully friendly when socializing?
“Just to be clear,” Alastor let the doorman open the lobby door, “It’s not the accusation of sex work that compelled me to sock him. It’s the implication you’d be cheap.” He waved the valet from the car and opened the door for you, “If you chose to sell your companionship at true worth, his daddy’s money couldn’t even buy him a kiss.”
“Aww,” you smiled at him through the thin windowpane, “Would you really be so cavalier about such a job if I did?”
“Would I? Gosh that’d make retirement much quicker for me.” He slid into the driver's seat and the door shut with a sharp ting. As he took hold of the wheel he reclined to let his hand settle behind you on the backrest, and then you three were off. 
“Oh by the way, Aubrey’s in the backseat.”
You turned slowly, first coming into view were her tiny, shining silver shoes. Your eyes kept traveling; stocking covered calves and then the bottom of her dress just past her knees.
Alastor’s coat draped over her torso and shoulders caused you to flit to him, confirming his jacket was gone, and back to her. 
Her face looked like that of a sleeping passenger. 
No blood.
When the car was a few blocks from the hotel, you leaned back and lifted the jacket. Her abdomen was clean, the white of her dress pristine. At first her neck seemed clear of cuts or abrasions until you rode past a streetlamp and a beam of light revealed the slowly forming collar of bruises.
Special attention.
For a hair of a moment you began to gently cover her again, before remembering her crimes and dropping it on her unceremoniously.
“Trunk not good enough for her?”
“Got interrupted. Booked it back to you.” He shook his head and patted the seat in tandem.
What luck that just as he felt sure she was too far gone for revival, he let go over her neck and sat up in time for someone to notice him. Fishing in his jacket draped over the seat, he found his cigarette case just as—
“What exactly are you two doing?” An officer was flashing his light through the passenger side back window.
Alastor froze, Aubrey motionless between his legs and a cigarette dangling unlit between his lips. “You startled me, officer! We were just canoodling. But she’s gone and fallen asleep before the main event.”
The officer’s brass light shone down but couldn’t reach the dead woman’s face past the shadow cast by the car door and glass. “She alright?”
Alastor’s eyes drifted down to the deceased socialite, “Truth be told sir, she’s had a bit too much of the giggle water.” Fishing your lighter from his waistcoat pocket, he lit this cigarette before setting the jacket over Aubrey like a gentleman.
“Alright y'all better get lost. Tell your moll this ain’t ladylike.” The officer tapped the window with his knuckle and when she didn’t stir just left with a huff.
Alastor was quick to leave the backseat and drive off, circling around at the next block to head back to the hotel.
“Is… everything alright?” You asked, very obviously concerned.
“Peachy! I just said we were necking before she passed out drunk.“ he leaned over and kissed your cheek, “Anything exciting on your end?”
Patting his leg you beamed up at him, “Always so quick on your feet! I don’t know why I worry so much.” His face lit up and you wanted nothing more than to launch into a praise filled rant that fueled his smile. But, you moved on to the question at hand. After a moment to think, you remembered ‘the best good deeds are done in the dark’. “Nope! Just got tipsy on William’s dime. An odd woman did touch my hair…,” you recounted every second, leaving out why you chose William, to Alastor. You hadn’t meant to, and he hadn’t actually asked, the evening’s events just seemed to flow out of you. The way he always added little comments and nodded made it feel like a conversation and not just you rambling. 
When the car was pulling into the driveway, you asked Alastor if you could drive it behind the house. Puzzled, he put it in park and let you sit between his legs. You started slowly, but quickly began to accelerate. As you approached the house you turned sharply to the left, right side tires ever so slightly leaving the ground. A sharp correction to the right to straighten out. One of his hands clutched you at the waist, the other gripping the seat.
He tried to form some kind of words but they came out a jumbled and panicked mash of sounds as you barreled toward the greenhouse. 
You slammed your foot on the brakes and Aubrey flew off the back seat and hit the floor with a loud thud.
“Ha!” You slapped the wheel, “I’ve been wanting to hear that sound the whole drive!” 
He used both arms now to squeeze you appreciatively, “You’re just the bee’s knees.” Alastor nuzzled into the back of your neck, truly feeling his heart flutter. You made him skip a beat. So many days and nights not even imagining such a pairing.
The best scenario he could think up was a partner who wouldn’t ask questions, who didn’t care to know, who was maybe a little too naive but otherwise capable. Even in his wildest dreams he hadn’t dared to think someone would exist who could support him.
And not just in the killing, which was a hurdle of course, but the other parts of him. The little sacrifices you made for him without complaint. 
What did he do for you, he worried. Your body was his on the occasions he wanted but never did you ask for him. You shared the housework equally. Yes he drove you around but your skills with the car were still new. Insignificant things, like making your coffee when he awoke first and waiting for you after work. With the detective still looking for connections, he couldn’t even properly introduce you or flaunt you around to his circles.
Like a flash of lightning taking down a tree, insecurity shook him. What on earth was keeping you there? Of all the people in New Orleans, how was he any more worth your time than the next?
If anything, he was nothing short of troublesome. His hold on you twisted from thankful to desperate.
Even the lovely evening out he had promised you, he’d left you alone in a strange place. A stranger had bought you more drinks than he had. 
“Would you like to go to the woods with me tonight? To dispose of Aubrey?” His lips swiped across the fabric of your dress as he said it.
The sudden advancement into his hobby took you by surprise. You hugged his arms against you, “Really? Are you sure?”
“If you don’t want to…”
“Is that what I said?”
“Well, no….”
“Don’t put words in my mouth! I absolutely want to go!” Your arms squeezed his.
He chuckled into your shoulder and gave your hip a pat, “Let me get her packaged up. You go rest your feet and I’ll come get you when I’m ready to go.”
You watched from the kitchen, the light he hung from the greenhouse ceiling setting the entire space aglow. When he finally emerged, his sleeves were rolled up past his elbows and his hair was falling into his face, glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose before he could push it back into place. He waved from the porch, and when you made it out to him he was already pulling out small bundles.
“We’ll bury the pieces in separate places.�� He dragged out a small trash tin with the lid already clapped down. “And this goes into the water.”
The packages were like Tommy’s, but smaller. They fit easily into the trunk, and beside them he snuggly fit the metal bucket.
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The Ford was parked down a dirt road far from sight, taking a parcel at a time and a shovel, you followed him into the woods. 
You had to ask, why not just his land? Wasn’t that safer? Easier?
“Well, a skull found out here is easier to act shocked about than on my property.”
The ground was still soft, but you could imagine it was rock solid in winter. “Isn’t this dangerous? Aren’t you slowed down in the colder months?” You kept your eyes open wide, adjusting to the pitch black of the forest. The trees were too close and too full still to see the stars. But soon they’d brown and die, revealing the sky’s light. Revealing Alastor.
“Eh it’s mostly busy during mating season because the hunters come out in numbers. But in general I avoid being here in the very early morning hours.” He paused and you reached out for the shovel for your turn, “It’s not too bad overall.”
“They mate in fall. It’s almost fall now.” You widened your stance for balance and began to dig. 
“Yeeees but I’m not alone!” He chirped.
“Fine… just, don’t come out when I’m not able to join you. Just wait or, I don’t know, burn them or something.” You tried to dig fast, wanting to spare his injured hand another turn.
“Very ineffective, brings too much attention and the body never burns all the way. It’s still identifiable in many cases.” Alastor said it quickly, as he’d had nearly a lifetime to think of these things and test them. 
You huffed, “Well, fuck. Okay. Still.” You leaned over and offered your index finger, not looking at him as you did. He laughed before wiping his hand clean on his pants and hooking his with yours. 
A small scream erupted from you, startling him. Your short heel sunk into the dirt when you leaned to lock fingers. The sudden loss of balance startled you. “Sorry… flat shoes. I need flat shoes…these are gonna be the death of me.”
Alastor’s hand came to his heart, pounding in his chest, “Of us. My heart nearly stopped.”
You dug many holes, all of them quite small in radius, just wide enough to slip in what you needed to. After each was deep enough by some standard you didn’t know, he would untie the twine around the package and let the contents spill out and down into the little cylinderical pocket of dirt. 
The first package had her hands. Then next was her feet. Her arms in pieces and then later her legs. The hips, the chest and shoulders, and finally, her head. You were grateful for the darkness, not wanting to see her face now that it was no longer attached to her body. 
The brush was so thick and the woods so dense that you found it hard to distinguish the burial spots once they’d been filled in and covered up. He explained most people came out there with a purpose, not really noticing some disturbed dirt here and there. It’s not like they’re people sized.
“You’re just something else, ya know that?” You said it into the shadows and didn’t see him wince. But you somehow, accidentally, knew to clarify, “I’m always so impressed by your way of doing things. You’ve really thought it out well huh? I know I should worry less but it’s hard.”
Because of the shade you didn’t see the way his shoulders relaxed. You never made him regret your inclusion.
Alastor carried the bucket as you slowly made your way through the darkness. You could hear the sounds of bugs, though you couldn’t see any.  The water surprised you, his arm coming to stop you from walking into the bayou.
“In winter they’ll get really still, so I slow down then too. But we still have time, it’s not too cold yet for them.” He took off the lid, the smell of copper blossoming from the tin.
With practiced moves, he tossed the viscera as far as he could into the small inlet marsh of the river. 
Within seconds the water frothed and rolled with the snapping of powerful jaws.
“Gosh they’re so neat.” You said, reaching out into the darkness for his hand. You couldn’t see him looking at you as you watched the prehistoric animals dispose of his crimes.
He wanted to kiss you. To confess every little happiness you filled his formerly hollow chest with. But he held back. He knew better. He’d tried before, once. When he thought settling was better than nothing. It ended terribly. It was better to just exist beside you for as long as you’d entertain his company. If you knew, he thought, of all the futures he imagined with you, you’d just feel tied down by his hopes. You weren’t a small bird he could hold in his home. 
You promised to not get in his way. The least he could do was not cage you with his love. He wouldn’t hold you back.
“Alastor.”
“Yeah?” He said dreamily.
“I think… ” You fought the urge to scream at the sensation between your toes, “Aubrey dripped into my shoes.”
Alastor yanked the bucket away from you, the angle he haphazardly held at it with a single finger to hold your hand having caused the liquid remains to leak out.
“Ankle boots. Ankle boots, no heel.” You muttered, the shoe rinsed off in the water with a paranoid speed now squishing under your sole. The action was enough to draw attention to your shore, long and round snouts moving toward you in the night as you got rid of Aubrey. It was time to go. 
The drive home was dark and silent. The bucket and tarps rinsed with the gas can full of water he always kept in the oversized, custom built trunk. It had taken longer than you had realized, which just brought up renewed worry for his sleep schedule.
When you finally made it home and into the bedroom, he mumbled it was too late to shower. A coordinated grumble between you that you’d both just wash the sheets in the morning. Alastor sat on the end of the bed and bent down, your hand coming to his shoulder to stop him. 
Exhausted, aching, and quite confident you smelled of sweat coated dirt with the tiniest hint of dead Aubrey mixed with alive William (blood and brandy, respectively), you lowered yourself to your knees. You untied the waxed laces of the right shoe, made of a shiny brown leather, and slipped it off. 
Alastor felt his throat tighten as he had to blink to keep tears away. You always seemed to listen when he spoke. Really listened, even when he was just being playful. Another tiny sweetness piled onto the mountain you were currently burying him under. Another ounce of inadequacy tipped on his self measured scales.
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Hush, I don’t have to do anything.” You said it and he laughed breathlessly knowing he’d heard it before and praying he’d hear it forever. “I want to.”
You set the left shoe beside the right. When you didn’t stand but instead stared at him patiently, Alastor undid his pants and lifted his hips to push them down. You folded them neatly beside his shoes. Feeling up his legs as if you couldn’t see them there in front of you, you found his sock garters. 
“Keep the socks, please. It’s getting chilly.” He undid his shirt and folded it on his lap. 
When he was in just his underwear and socks, you looked up at him and wondered if he knew. That this was the closest to expressing “I love you” you had ever been. The act itself perhaps far louder than any words could be.
Sitting back, he patted between his legs like he had in the car. As you sat, he undid the buttons down the back of your dress. Why were so many women’s clothing items made in a way that required two people?
In the mirror above the dresser you took in the sight. When the dress fell to your waist he kissed your shoulder and met you in the reflection.
“Quite a pretty couple, if I do say so myself.” He rested his chin where he had just kissed and smiled at you. “What did I do to deserve your attention?”
“Affection,” you corrected. “Aubrey got attention.” He nodded slightly. “I think it’s karma.” You watched his brow arch. “You’ve earned me. Whatever that means, or looks like. We were put together for a reason.”
It was the sappiest thing you’d ever said and a year ago you’d have laughed in someone’s face for saying it. If a character in a novel spewed it out in a confession you’d have closed the book. But you meant it. Every single word was part of the fact this was supposed to happen. The idea that any timeline existed where your paths never crossed gave you the shivers.
Alastor closed his eyes, exhaustion catching up quickly as comfort opened the door for it. That didn’t make any sense to him at all. Why would anyone, god or the devil, give him something good just for the sake of being a good thing. He was very plainly bad. There must be a catch. That fear he felt before, the fear of wanting something too much, reappeared. Turning its ugly head to him as if called by name. 
Why? He could feel something, someone, setting their sights on him. 
When he opened his eyes, you were there still, looking at him. A smile too sweet. He felt the compulsion to tell you to run. That if this was his karma, it would end the way he deserved. And he didn’t deserve happiness. He didn’t deserve you.
But instead he leaned down, lifted your dress, and unclamped your garters. He wanted to be selfish. He wanted to cling to what good he had now. Even knowing he couldn’t possibly get to keep it. His fingertips delighted in rolling down the delicate nylon. He watched the red stained end loosen around your toes, a mental note to burn them before he continued his undressing.
“Lift your hips, my love. I’ll get you all ready for bed.” As he pressed forward and bent into you so he could slip off the stockings he turned to look at the you in front of him, “And I’ll keep you warm.”
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hexedwinchester · 17 days
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How come u dont love Sam protecter and older brother Dean🥹
By Sam own words Dean raised him, a-lot of the good qualities that Sam has he got from Dean. Yeah Sam childhood wasn't the best, but he was deeply loved by Dean, i believe this love helped overcome many obstacles in his life.
In fact again by Sam own words, Deans love and protection is the only thing he could always count on.
I am not saying Dean is perfect, but who is ? To say that Sam needed protection from Dean sounds odd, where Dean is literally his home and the only place he feels safe.
hi @rosedark88
Interesting question and perspective you have offered.. this would be fun to analyse 😊
Before I start, let me be honest: I'm not Dean's biggest fan because I find a lot of his actions to be problematic. Please proceed with caution: you may not like the answer but I'll break it down as logically as I can. (Please remember, this is not a hate post)
Yes, I agree Dean has been Sam's protector (but only until early seasons. I'll explain what I mean) and he did raise him but time and again Dean has confessed if not to others, then his own subconscious that he hated having to carry that burden. He has let it slip that he is bitter about having to raise Sam (which I can understand, it wasn't fair) but I've seen him pretends otherwise which is two-faced IMO. (He confesses this in S03E10 Dream A Little Dream of Me when he is facing himself, in case you are looking for a reference.)
He is also a hypocrite with repressed emotions. He says he admires his dad but deep down he too resented him but he still gave Sam shit about him because Sam was just more blunt about his opinion of John unlike Dean. Again, in the same episode he says "my dad was an obsessed bastard. All that crap about keeping Sam safe was his crap." See what I mean?
Continuing on the hypocrisy, his whole agenda of "what's dead should stay dead" is gone for a toss when he makes that deal the first time to save Sam in S2. He gave Sam a lot of shit for trusting Ruby because she's a demon (unfortunate for Sam she had bad intentions) but Dean trusted Benny, Gadreel, Crowley and Cas when all of these guys have broken his trust later. But we don't see Sam bringing that shit up like Dean tends to.
Let's also not forget that Dean berated Sam for getting Charlie killed over the Book of the Damned but apparently no one cares that his manipulation got Kevin killed too? Do you see the double standards here?
Speaking of saving Sam, every single time he has done something apocalyptic to save Sam, it was for selfish reasons. The main reason is because Dean struggles to let go, to move on. He'd rather drag a zombie Sam around than let the man die. Even you have to agree there's some truth in that.
Dean hated that Sam left for college and it wasn't because he was afraid something might get to him. No, it was because he saw that as Sam's betrayal. That Sam picked college over him.
Now, coming to your question about why Sam needs protection from Dean his apparent 'savior'? Yes, Dean is willing to do anything to "save Sam" from every evil thing out there but that's the whole problem. Why even Billie doesn't like the Winchesters because these guys are willing to risk the destruction of the whole world to save each other which isn't right.
let's look at those grave "save Sam" moments and see what's wrong with those pictures:
Sam's first death in S2: Dean bought himself one way ticket to Hell to bring Sam back because he didn't want to keep doing this without Sam (he confesses this in his monologue to Sam's corpse and also in the Croaton episode when he finds out Sam is infected and doesn't leave). Dean is literally nobody without Sam and I'm not saying this. This is who Dean is. Sam is Dean's essence for survival. So Dean saved Sam for himself putting Sam through the same ordeal that John put Dean through. Dean passes on his trauma to Sam like a hand me down.
Sam's detox: Bobby tried to knock sense into him that it's probably the cold turkey thing that's killing Sam. I know Dean was trying to help him but I doubt he knew the right way to do so. Even when he realised his method would kill Sam, he was okay letting him suffer like that until he died (because then at least he dies human). I'm sorry that's not how you deal with someone with addiction problem. Despite everything, Sam is still willing to work with Dean but he can't get over Sam choosing Ruby and calls Sam a monster.
In season 6, the brothers realise something is off about Sam. At the end of the episode 'You Can't Handle the Truth' Sam comes clean that he felt different since he was brought back and he needs help to figure it out and how does Dean help him? By beating him unconscious, tying him to the chair like he is a monster? The way he talks to Sam in that scene: "you better hope he (Cas) can diagnose you. he asks, you answer and then you shut your cakehole". So Sam isn't allowed to talk about his own body? Oh wait I know, he's not, not when Dean said so.
In Season 8, he impersonates Amelia, sending Sam SOS just so he can he rendevous with Benny? Amelia was a shore in his Sam's storm. He loved her and deeply cared for her. To let him think something happened to her was cruel. Especially given how Sam's past relationships ended up his beloveds dying horrifically. Who plays such sick mind games? And to your own brother??!
Season 9, my favourite, the one that completely dissolved the rose tinted glasses that the show created for Dean: Manipulating Sam into saying yes to be possessed by an angel (an angel you know nothing of) knowing Sam's history of possession, that was just sick. Sam wanted to die. He was ready. If Dean wanted to save him, the least he could do was be honest about it. Not manipulate him into saying yes. But he didn't. He resorted to manipulation because he knew Sam would rather die than be possessed. Something that people fail to understand here is 'the idea of possession' is a hard limit for Sam. But Dean has no regard for it because in his head "he did what he had to and he won't even apologize for that". I'm sorry, that's the biggest red flag to me. I don't care if you have raised me, protected me and kept me safe only for you to stab me where I'm the most vulnerable. You are no different than all those evil things out to hurt me. That's why I love Sam for standing his ground and not forgiving Dean for this. He was right to say he didn't want to be brothers. If my siblings betrayed me like that, I'd leave too.
And whenn in Season 9 finale, Dean wanted to go off to kill metatron on his own, Sam wanted to tag along but what's dean's response? Punch him into unconsciousness and leave him on the street like that? All vulnerable for any monster to attack him? Really?! How is this protecting? Ya maybe metatron won't kill him but something else still might!
Oh and in Season 15, Dean pulled a gun on Sam and mind you he under no dark influence. This was all him. I'm not even going to elaborate further on this.
I can list at least 10 occasions where Dean has hit, punched, beat up Sam but Sam hasn't fought back. And that's not even what bothers me the most. It's the fact that Sam doesn't look surprised (meaning Dean beaten him before and I so believe he has and it's a frequent, almost business as usual like) or he looks scared (I'll try to find that gif where Sam is on the ground putting his hands before his face to protect himself against Dean). Dean is abusive when he is angry.
Something you said in the ask that struck me odd. What qualities did Sam learn from Dean? Let's see some of Sam's core good qualities:
Emotional intelligence
Forgiving
Compassionate
Empathetic
Selflessness
Determination
Self awareness
Open mindedness
Authencity
Dean is not known for any of the above qualities, so I disagree he learnt his good qualities from Dean. Dean has an emotional intelligence of a wooden plank. He holds grudges and isn't nearly as forgiving as Sam is. Compassion and empathy are not Dean's qualities either. Dean is selfish. His first thought is how to use someone to his advantage. He did that with Cas, Crowley, even Jack. I've seen Dean give up more often. His "I can't keep doing this", "why is it our job to save everyone", "who says I want to do this?" are all indicators of this. Self-awareness tends to dwell in his blindspot. I've said this before, Dean is black and white, Sam is grey area meaning Sam is more open minded than Dean. My favourite: nothing about Dean is original. His leather jacket? John's. His car? John's. His music? John's. His life motto? Also John's. Whereas Sam has been authentic, true to himself than Dean ever could. Did Sam learn hunting from Dean? Yes. Loyalty? Yes. But neither of these are Sam's core qualities. So I disagree that Sam's good qualities come from Dean. If anything, his good qualities are actually him trying not to be like Dean.
Sam can count on Dean's love and protection because he has been conditioned to since he was 6 months old. First by his father and then by Dean himself either through emotional abuse (he keeps reminding him about how his decisions always end up with someone dying or gaslighting him into guilt tripping on things outside his control) or downright physical beatings. The Winchesters have dysfunctional family and relationships. Again, remember Sam is the forgiving one in this relationship. In fact Sam is forgiving to a fault and that's what this is. It doesn't make Dean's actions right just because Sam has been forgiving them.
To summarise, here why I feel Sam needs protection from Dean:
Dean saves Sam only because he doesn't know how to live without him. That's not normal. He has done crazy shit to "save him" resulting in causing Sam more trauma
He quickly lashes out (often resulting in verbal or physical violence) because of his repressed emotions and poor anger management
He has verbally and physically hurt Sam either by calling him a monster or saying he doesn't trust him or by beating him unconscious on multiple occasions
he is controlling, bossy and threatening. "If didn't know you, I'd want to hunt you." Sorry, if I were Sam, I wouldn't feel very safe
Dean doesn't see the wrong in his action or worse, even when he knows he is wrong, he is too stubborn to apologise for that. Everything is shoved under "I did what I had to" or "I'm not apologizing for saving you".
Dean has manipulated Sam and gaslit him
His whole "this is a dictatorship" comes across as a red flag which takes me to my next point:
He never treated Sam as his equal. Don't see how that counts as love
Dean was mad at Sam in DSOTM because Sam's happy memories (that Sam wasn't in control of and the whole situation was probably rigged. I mean, Zachariah cosied up with Mary's image for god's sake) didn't involve Dean. The idea that Sam can have a life outside Dean has never sat well with him
He has locked Sam in the panic room on at least 3 occasions. Sam hasn't done that even once
Sorry, but Dean is not a poster boy for love and protection. When I look at a character, I not only analyse their actions but also try to understand why they acted the way they did. In Dean's case, the why has always been problematic.
Dean's intentions maybe good but his actions don't always align. His philosophy has always been "if the means justify the end" but I don't stand by it. This is what makes room for immoral, tyrant and corrupt actions and an excuse to hide you wrong doings behind those.
These are my views on why I feel Sam needed to be saved from Dean. You may or may not agree and it's fine either ways 😊
Damn! That was lengthy. But thanks for this interesting ask, it was fun! 😇
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yetanothergreyjedi · 3 months
Text
Left and Returned: Definitely Nothing Wrong
Ao3
Danny Phantom x Supernatural Crossover
Chapter 2
Dean orders the largest burger on the menu, Bobby orders something with potatoes that will absolutely have him commenting that he could make a better one himself. Sam orders a salad. Danny orders chocolate chip pancakes off the breakfast menu and Dean looses any reservations he had about refering to the young man as 'kid'. Realistically he's probably not much younger than Sam, but if he has a problem with it he can start acting like an adult.
No. Dean isn't huffy about the handstand thing. Why do you ask?
"So it's following you, but you haven't seen it. Like haven't seen it like, invisible or like being watched from afar or what?" Then again, the kid was asking good questions.
"Like its invisible, but can't hide its presence, realizes its making a mess then pisses off."
"Because its afraid of being noticed or because it doesn't want to do harm?"
"How am I supposed to know?"
"Vibes."
"Gut instinct," Sam adds, which makes more sense than 'vibes'.
"It shattered every window in the place. I don't think its scared."
"Fair."
"I know a psychic, a couple hours from here. Something this big, maybe she's heard the other side talking." Bobby suggested.
"Hell, yeah. Its worth a shot."
"A psychic..." Danny tapped the table, "Okay, sure. Why not?"
---
"What the hell is this?"
"An ipod jack... It's been my car for a year, Dean."
And what could he say to that? Instead Dean points sout the part that is far worse than douching up his car with modern niceties. "Its pink."
"Yeah... well, it's not mine, it's Jazz's. She left it in here and if I move it I'll forget to bring it back to her."
"Huh," Dean had no idea what he expected. Maybe some comment about how pink wasn't that bad? He turned the key and some girly romance song filled the compartment. "Really?"
Sam smiled a little at the song, and Dean hit pause on the device instead of throwing it into the back seat.
"Soo, she your girlfriend or what"
"That's complicated."
"Of course it is, the hunting making things weird?"
"No, actually. Her family hunts."
"But not her?"
"Only when necessary, she's in medical school."
"I'm, uh, noticing some parallels, Sammy."
Sam laughs. "Thats part of why its complicated."
"Just part, huh?"
"Yeah,"
"What about Ruby? She still around?"
"Probably. She shows up when she thinks she can make a case for wanting the greater good or whatever... there was a whole thing. When I was still convinced I could bring you back..." Sam trails off, clearly deciding how much to say. Sam had tried to bring him back?And failed? Did Bobby know about any of this? "That's done now.”
"Huh...You been using your freaky E.S.P. stuff?"
"Every time I think its behind me something weird happens."
"What?"
"It shows up at weird times, stressful situations. Afterwards its hard to tell if it was real or not."
"Sam..."
"I know, look, one thing at a time okay? We worry about this for now."
---
"I am curious... why aren't you doing this yourself?" Pamela asks Danny.
"You're a psychic?" Bobby asks.
"...I guess I could count? I tend to only talk to the dead when they're right in front of me."
This, of course, meant Pamela forgot she had been flirting in favor of talking shop with Danny. Which meant he didn't get a chance to chat with the lovely lady, instead got to listen to her quiz him on ‘'energies'' and 'conduits' and other psychic mumbo-jumbo. Like really, he just got outta jail, why can’t he enjoy it? It's probably for the best though, the kid, in his own words, "knew enough to do some incredibly stupid things." So, Dean figured letting Pamela explain the basics of a safe seance was probably saving someone a whole mess.
Not that he thought Danny would intentionally be stupid about it. They'd have done this four hours ago in the back of the kid's van, if he'd thought he could, and who knows how that would've ended.
He's less willing to accept it when Pam decides Danny should be the one touching Dean's shoulder.
"Jesus, kid! You been holding ice cubes?!"
"Don't judge my hobbies." Kid quips, settling his hand back over the handprint. "Just poor circulation, chillax."
Dean immediately regrets glancing at his brother. At least Sammy has the decency to stifle his smirk, but really, taking your not-actually-brother-in-law-because-its-complicated's side over your own flesh and blood: Rude! Just rude.
"Okay." Pam begins, her tone both sharp and comforting. The unspoken command is heard and they somber, close their eyes.
"I invoke, conjure, and command you, appear unto me before this circle." She begins, her voice clear and authoritative.
"I invoke, conjure, and command you, appear unto me before this circle." She repeats, energy runs between their circle linked hands. Dean couldn't let go even if he tried. What was this?
"I invoke, conjure, and command you, appear unto me before this circle." Something turns on, a television or a radio, Dean doesn't know. He's a link in a chain meant to bind, every sense is dull except the feeling of clasping hands and the brand on his shoulders. Accept the single sound that rings in perfect clarity.
"I invoke, conjure, and command... Castiel? No. Sorry, Castiel, I don't scare easy."
"Castiel?" Dean repeats, how he says it, he isn't quite sure, chainlinks don't have mouths.
"Its name. It's whispering to me, warning me to turn back."
"Warning, not threatening." Gasps the link that connects Pamela to this link. The static grows, the space beneath them shakes. The world itself wants to tear the links free from the chain, but they hold. Power runs freely between them, they are as much a conduit as they are a chain. They will not break, they cannot break, keeping hands linked is effortless.
"I conjure and command you, show me your face." Pamela chants. The cacophony around them grows louder and more hazy, her voice is clear through each repetition.
Another link says something. This link does not hear it.
"I almost got it. I command you, show me your face! Show me your face n—"
"No," The link between them breathes.
The link in the chain is a body. The body is Dean. The burn on Dean's shoulder ache's with the absence of a relieving cold removed.
Dean crashes backwards. The impact of his back on the floor knocks the wind from his lungs. Sound returns. Breaking glass and splintering furniture, someone is screaming. He gasps. Three, four, five breaths before he's aware of the broken chair beneath him. He grabs a leg of it, and holds it like a weapon as he scrambles to his feet.
Bobby has already gotten to Pamela, she's covering her face and muttering about sight. Dean catches a glimpse and turns to Danny as Bobby shouts to call 9-1-1.
He can hear Sam stumble over scattered items in the direction of the phone. He kneels in front of his brother's friend.
Danny's eyes are closed, but he has eyelids, so Dean thinks that's a good sign for now. Blood is gushing from the kid's nose.
"He's beautiful." The kid whispers, clearly dazed.
"You okay, kid?"
" 'm not'a kid, 'm 24, plus all that time that didn't happen, so I'm even older than I am."
"Right, Sammy's calling the 9-1-1, you're gonna be—"
Danny jerked away like someone had soaked their hands in ice water before grabbing his shoulder. "No hospitals."
Dean remembered that the kid was also a hunter, but a lot more vivid than that, was the image of Pam's eyes seared out. "Okay, okay, let me see your eyes, then we'll decide what to do."
Danny obeyed. He blinked his eyes open, and while bright green irises' surrounded with angry red lines, they were like, normal levels of bloodshot and not 'stared into eye gouging power' bloodshot. So that was good, better than Dean had hoped. "Okay, you come with us while Bobby handles the EMT's."
"Promise?"
"Yeah, promise."
Danny nods. "He's beautiful, Dean. Like something past hoping, like the things that live in the silver."
"Um." Dean regretted his choices.
"Neverborn and Neverdead for sure. But not the embodiment of a concept I dont think. Maybe something like a wisp? If wisps liked to burn your corneas off."
"I don't think it was a wisp, buddy."
"No, Castiel isn't a wisp name. Wisps have names like:" Danny whistled a few notes.
"Are you sure you don't need a hospital?"
He wiped his nose with his sleeve. This succeeded only in smearing the blood around his face and getting his sleeve dirty. . "Yeah'm sure. Don't ask me to do anything with depth perception though."
"Danny, I don't think—"
"You promised." And Dean had promised.
---
"What'd Bobby say?"
"Pam's stable. And out of I.C.U." Sam returned to their table.
"And blind, because of us."
"No, it looked a lot worse than it is, she should retain some eyesight, but we still have no clue who we're dealing with."
"We're dealing with Castiel." Danny muttered from where he was hiding his face from the "oppressive concept of LED lights". Dean was pretty sure the lights in here were normal, but he wasn't gonna argue with the kid who might be concussed about if the diner lights were a reasonable brightness.
"That doesn't exactly help us, though."
"Sure it does, With the right mumbo-jumbo we could summon him, bring him right to us."
"You're crazy. Absolutely not."
"We'll work him over. I mean, after what he did?"
"Pam took a peek at him and her eyes burned out of her skull, Danny's..." Sam looks at Danny, who may as well be a sweatshirt artfully arranged on the table. "You want to have a face to face?"
"You got a better idea?"
"Yeah, as a matter of fact I do. I looked, there are signs of Demons in town."
"Okay." Dean doesn't like where this is going, but he's aware of how strongly he doesn't want this to be a demonic plot, so he keeps his mouth shut.
"So, we go find them. Someone's gotta know something about something."
Dean opens his mouth, then shuts it again as the waitress approaches. Ah the awkward silence of 'don't freak out the locals.' They didn't have that in Hell, he doesn't miss it.
Three plates, each with a perfect slice of pie, makes their way to the table. They didn't have this in Hell either, this, Dean missed a lot. The sweatshirt on the table must agree, because it revives into a human person and pulls his plate to himself. It's the first thing the kid did since the seance that doesn't make Dean regret letting him skip the hospital.
Then, before Dean can dig into his own slice with the same intense focus, their waitress joins them at the table.
"You angling for a tip?"
"I'm sorry. Thought you were looking for us." She smiles as her eyes go absent of light. Then the man behind her does the same, then the cook in the kitchen. The front door locks with a resounding click.
"Oh, you will not." Danny hisses. And Dean tenses, for a moment, just a silly, ridiculous moment, he thought the kid was going to throw himself across the table, attack the demon with tooth and claw. Dean tenses, ready to drag the kid off the demon, because not even it deserves his full wrath. But Danny doesn't move, because that would be insane. The kid is not that insane, Dean has seen 0 behavior that would make him expect such a ridiculous action.
The demon locks eyes with the kid, several seconds pass, then moment is gone, and only Danny's half-given threat hangs in the air. The kid goes back to his pie. The demon turns to Dean as if nothing had happened.
"Dean. To hell and back. Aren't you a lucky duck." She tries to play it cool, to pretend that she wasn't just as rattled by... whatever Danny had done— and rest assured Dean will find out what that was— but she was rattled, and the threat of her backup did nothing to help her regain control.
She tells him nothing they didn't already know. Dean tells her nothing she didn't already know. Dean doesn't bluff, because for some reason they don't need to bluff. They finish their pie, pay and leave.
A block down the road, when the feeling of being watched by a predator fades, he turns to the kid.
"What. Was. That?"
"Uh... the demons? I thought you guys dealt with those semi-regularly?"
"No. What you did."
"Ate pie?" Dean pushes the kid against the wall.
"Dean, what's going on?"
"You're telling me you didn't feel that, Sammy?!"
"Feel what?"
Dean searched his brother's face, it was pure worry not a trace that he was hiding something. Danny however, held not a trace of concern, not even the slightest fear that Dean might hit him. Cold blue eyes watch him with morbid detachment.
"Dean, what is it?"
"Nothing." Dean lies. Releasing the kid as his brother tried to pry answers out of him.
There is something wrong with Danny, and Dean is going to figure out what.
---
Dean's plans for investigation are stalled slightly. Because Danny's plan, apparently, was to sleep in the back of his van. As the kid still looked like a walking corpse, and his nose had started bleeding again, Sam had taken pity and insisted he stay in the motel with them.
Dean, now half convinced Danny was in league with the demons from earlier, (yeah the theory didn't make sense but Dean didn't have a better idea at the moment. It had been a long day.) was not thrilled with this plan. Did he have an argument that would stop Sam from being protective of his girlfriend's little brother? No. No, he did not. And to be fair, the kid did pass out the instant his head hit the pillow, so he probably wasn't an immediate threat.
Dean took the other bed so Sam would have to live with the consequences of his actions. He falls asleep thinking of jokes to make for either sleeping arrangement his brother chooses.
---
Dean is shaken awake. He swings the moment he realizes the dark figure is too short to be Sam.
Danny blocks him easily. He grabs Dean's arm to pin him for exactly the time it takes to look him in the eyes and say. "He's here. Castiel's here."
Then he lets him go, but Dean is still frozen, still pinned by the younger man's gaze. Green eyes almost glow in the beam of an outside streetlamp. It is not the same as a shapeshifter's ‘lazer-eyes'
but it is something.
But there's no time to think about it, the television flicks on with familiar static and the radio follows. There is too much glass in here. Between windows and mirrors and why on earth did they choose a motel with a mirror on the ceiling when the thing chasing them shattered glass? He shouts a warning and barely has enough time to throw the comforter over them both before the world explodes.
They huddle between the beds in a haphazard blanket fort that does nothing to stop the whistling scream. It feels too thin to be real protection against the glass either, but it holds, and the kid's eyes are definitely glowing but it's the least of his concerns.
It's not so different from hell. The noise, the danger, the cramping in his muscles as he tries in vain to protect himself. He can't tell the difference between a few seconds and a few centuries. But he's breathing, so he counts his breaths and loses count twice.
Neither of them move the blanket when things seem to calm. Another century that is actually six breaths, and Bobby is rushing through the door, shouting for them.
The glass heavy blanket is pulled away and then they're both being checked over.
"Where's Sam?" Dean demands.
"I don't know, he wasn't here when I woke." Its probably stupid, but Dean believes him.
They have no new cuts or bruises, though Danny's ears are bleeding a little.
They have the hospital argument again, Danny is feeling better(or worse) than before, because he threatens to spit on all of their socks. When that doesn't work, he threatens to not tell them what Castiel said. That does work.
"He says to meet him at the church on south street. He didn't give a time, but he promised he'd be in a form we can handle."
Bobby and Dean share a look, yeah, they're not doing that.
But the idea that it could be a trap seems foreign to the younger hunter. Danny argues that the spirit might be offended and that "A summoning might cause him to lose concrete form, then we'll just repeat the glass nightmare."
Well that was a good point: building with no windows it was then.
Needless to say Danny loses this argument.
---
So Sam is lying to him, they're in some old building marking it up with every religion known to man and Danny's claimed a whole section of wall for the doodles not known to man. Bobby gets sidetracked by it every fifteen minutes, but Danny must have credible sources for the marks because Bobby tells the kid to copy them down for later study.
Dean really needs to decide what to do about the kid. He's been helpful so far... but that was how things started with Ruby.
"This is still a bad idea." Bobby tells him. They're ready.
"I second!" Danny shouts from where he's copying his symbols into Bobby's notebook.
"Yeah, Bobby, I heard you the first ten times. What do you say we ring the dinner bell?"
Bobby sighs, but begins.
---
Castiel tries to knock the kid out, just like he already did to Bobby. It takes everything in Dean to not panic.
"Yeah, no. Not doing that." Danny deadpans to the man-shaped thing.
"I need to talk to Dean. Alone."
"Well, you could've just asked. Going all sleepy magic on a guy is kinda rude. Dean? Want me to sit in the car?"
"Are you nuts?!" He checked Bobby's pulse.
"Your friend's alive." Bobby's pulse is even and strong.
"Who are you?"
"Castiel." "He's Castiel." Both human shaped things say. This conversation was going to be painful.
"Obviously, I mean what are you?"
"I'm an Angel of the Lord."
"Which Lord?" Danny asks before Dean can say something dumb like 'nun-uh.' Danny's question definitely offends Castiel more than any denial Dean could've come up with. The guy actually staggers a bit.
"The One True God."
"You realize like 40% of the gods I've met say that, right?" What? And with that the kid has rendered the angel speechless with indignation, Dean's not gonna lie, he's kinda impressed.
"Quit pulling our legs, angel's aren't real."
"Dean, this is your problem, you have no faith."
Dean's not sure how to describe the fact that he was suddenly aware of Castiel's wings. Not that he saw them exactly, or felt, or heard them, he just suddenly knew where they were, how they unfurled from Castiel's body and were held out in proud display. Then the moment passed and they were gone.
Danny clapped politely. It ruined the rising feel of awe inspired dread and Dean hated how much he was starting to like this kid.
"You burned out that poor woman's eyes." Dean started. He wasn't letting this guy off the hook so easy.
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The Arcana HCs: M6 in OHSHC
~ I know I missed my regular HCs yesterday, so have this random crossover that's been bouncing around my head since February as an extra! credit to @helshollowhalls for getting this idea off the ground ^.^ ~
-- the M6 and MC in this case are also students at Ouran High School. MC and Haruhi are friends because they are both the relatively normal ones in their friend group. --
Julian
Joined the host club before Haruhi hit it off with MC and invited them to stop by for a visit. He saw the costumes from a distance and assumed it was a theatre club
He still thinks it's a theatre club, just weirder and more flirtatious
He's into it. Attends all the events, takes expectations seriously, and gets so into his roles that he genuinely forgets himself
He likes Tamaki, he does, but it's also a little too much like looking into a mirror so he keeps his performances on the other side of the music room, closer to where MC or Haruhi are sitting ...
His all-leather look is so popular the club has multiple plague doctor themed events, giving Julian an entirely new frame of reference for what having a long list of patients can mean
Genuinely cares about every person that walks through the doors and goes above and beyond to make them smile
Has a dedicated fan club
Desperately wants to be let in on the twin's antics, but every time they include him in their pranks he ends up spoiling them because he can't keep a secret to save his life. Still gets dragged into them
Likes to dote on Honey
Has a personal goal of getting Mori to speak more than 2 sentences to him per day. His personal record is 1 1/2
Fully aware of the fact that Kyouya is the reason the club is functional and has a healthy respect for that
Asra
They ... never officially joined, actually. Everyone thinks they have but they haven't. They just like to show up for shits and gigles
And because MC is there and it's fun to watch them laugh
Does he have a lot of fans? Yes. Does he ever sit with/entertain them? No. Do they somehow believe he's still a host regardless? Yes. Kyouya can never get a non-blurry picture of him
Somehow always has a costume on theme though. Nobody knows where they got it. Renge denies giving him one
Renge also made a mad scramble to study up on gender theory after hearing him say that it was a social construct and goes out of her way to introduce herself with she/they pronouns now
Asra and the twins kept a wary distance from each other for the first week. Then they reached some kind of mysterious agreement in three minutes and have been hell on everyone since
Between the twins' total disregard for social appropriateness and Asra's magical talents, nobody is able to see where the next prank is coming from. (except Muriel. but he's special)
They looove to make Lucio and Tamaki look silly
He's got a soft spot for Mori and a surprisingly good friendship with Kyouya. He sees right through Honey's cute facade and doesn't really care to play into it
They and Honey do have a "naptime is sacred" agreement though
Keeps falling asleep in the piano. (not on. in. it terrifies Tamaki)
Nadia
She joined officially as part time assistant manager when she found out that MC was a regular customer and that Lucio was hosting unsupervised. She sees herself as responsible for both
Until she met Kyouya and realized that Lucio was perfectly under control. And that MC was just there to hang out
Stayed anyways because 1) MC, obviously, 2) Kyouya is her platonic soulmate, 3) she likes having input on the costumes, and 4) she gets to fluster girls as much as she wants to
She and Kyouya have regular sympathy sessions about their respective loud blondes. Kyouya is significantly fonder of his than Nadia is of hers
She is unexpectedly protective of Haruhi's friendship with MC and constantly facilitates more space for them to hang out
Honey is scared of her and doesn't know why. Then he saw her own martial prowess and realized he might have found someone on his level
Mori likes her because she doesn't try to change him
Tamaki desperately wants to impress her. She likes him more than she lets on, if only to let the entertainment drag out a little
She lets the twins get away with way more than anybody expects her to, mostly because Asra's usually involved and the end result is watching MC laugh until they cry
Regularly clashes with Renge over aesthetic visions
Muriel
Has never been interested in joining the club. Will never be interested in joining the club. In fact, he has gone out of his way to hide from the club
Until the hosts thought it would be fun to secretly follow MC when they took their lunch break out in the garden maze and spotted him. Once they did, it was all over
Muriel is not a host, but he has a standing invitation and regularly gets hunted down and dragged along by the twins
Asra doesn't stop them because he knows that Muriel actually gets along with Mori really well and considers him a potential friend
Muriel usually comes by when the club is closed to visitors, if only because of his effect on guests
They either get scared off by his intimidating aura or take it as a challenge. Neither of those things end well
Honey likes to climb on him when Mori isn't available
Part of the twins' agreement with Asra involves no messing with Muriel beyond dragging him in for visits. They find that boring and generally stay away
Muriel has 0 patience for Tamaki, who ends up slowly shriveling into a ghost every time his sparkles are met with a dull eyed stare
Kyouya doesn't mind Muriel being around as long as the club is closed. And because it makes Mori unusually talkative
Renge tried to critique his character once. She needed coffee after
Portia
She's not one of the hosts but she is partners in crime with Renge so she may as well be an official club member
Their novel reading skills combined makes them both ten times stronger and it's terrifying. Nadia won't stop them because she's best friends with Portia, and Kyouya's just ... done with it all
Besides, no harm in letting them run wild when Portia's presence bumps up attendance by 15% because she knows half the school
Oh, and because Portia's the one who really took care of the Lobelia girls
What, you think they just gave up and twirled away, satisfied with being nothing more than a mini-arc? That's what Haruhi and most of the hosts think, but ...
It's got nothing on the Legendary Lesbian Showdown that happened behind the school. That entire strip of greenery is saturated with triumphant girlboss cottagecore vibes
She and Tamaki have the sibling relationship he always craved because he reminds her of another tall, dramatic, moody guy
She likes the twins but they're so scared of her general competency that they just bring her occasional pastry offerings
Loves to dote on Honey, but won't hesitate to parent him either and it drives him up the wall. Mori secretly finds it hilarious
Regularly gives tea serving etiquette lessons to the hosts because it pains her to see them doing it wrong
Lucio
He overheard several of Tamaki's fangirls talking about a handsome blonde guy and mistakenly believed they were talking about him
Got so upset when they corrected him that he went to visit just to see who his apparent competition was
Saw the costumes and daily parties and felt the FOMO so hard that he waltzed right in and started trying to out-host Tamaki
Tamaki only sees Lucio's enthusiasm to be the best host ever and completely misses all the other red flags so he makes him an official member on the spot
Kyouya initially objects, until he notices the boost in visitors due to the never ending puzzle that is Lucio and Tamaki's daily interactions (locally referred to as the "Blonde-Off")
Mori stays way far away from him because he doesn't like being told what to do. Honey stays right up close because he wants a front seat for the chaos. This does occasionally cause tension
The twins have an absolute field day with him - messing up his hair, switching out his eyeliner, leaving banana peels everywhere
Asra only enables them further
The pranks on Tamaki ramp up too, because the Blonde-Off has to stay interesting and they can't give the boss too much of an advantage. That just wouldn't be right
Lucio and Renge have a love/hate relationship over his character because her criticisms are accurate and it helps and bothers him
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bawmbo · 3 months
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Mr. Mems OFFICIAL reference
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OKAY!!!!!!!!!! HERE HE IS, OFFICIAL REFERENCES !!!!!!!!! it's a little bit cluttered, they have a *lot* of information on them and i'm really bad with words so i've been struggling to find a way to simplify it a little bit
if there are any questions on them i'd be more than happy to answer !!!! wwoo wooo wooo. my brain is so fried at the moment
i realize, even in the first reference, the text is kind of hard to look at for me, though i have pretty sensitive eyes to colors and high contrast, so i will write (for more reasons than just that abshf) down what the text says there (i also noticed grammar errors. i am so sorry. scrambled egg brain)
for the sake of organization, i am going to put some texts that may be far from each other on the page next to each other MEMORY (original AU, "SE" / lost media AU) (names unknown) (current AU, "Nightwatch AU") ("Dr. / Mr. Mem(s)") - they/he/it pronouns, agender and demiaroace - frustrated easily, strong moral compass, even if questionable - heavily suppressive and has an impressive polker (poker*) face - takes his jobs seriously (mainly, lead Search and Rescue team & trauma therapist / assistant under Dr. Psych) - nostalgia and liminal spaces are important themes - HATES echo flowers. soft spot for kids (at reference) - grumpy old cat, blunt, can be a prick, and occasionally taunting (but working on these behaviors with psych) - forget me nots always carried - around 5'3. at the little creature display, it says "stoner" and "frequents grillby's for fries only" (at reference) arrow pointing towards the star labeling "their soul." next to it, explaining that the star is hot and boils liquid magic to make the mist. memory often puts essential oils in his skull. the star floats over their face and can move. do NOT remove from face (at crutch) optional, mild case of hEDS + unspecified other chronic illnesses (at hand) wedding ring (one half of the omega timeline's (OT's) WORST gay couples (affectionate)) (at leg) has shoes. does not wear them to spite psych. ((but if drawn with them), they are very chunky shoes) NOTE (abilities) (roughly) [SAVE] star (and) soul - memory cannot reset other files :) - this star (/soul) works as a PC (think REALLY old PC) - memory's base file is corrupted - memory gathers code and stories it temporarily in one of two other free slots. if the code matches, then it will go into FILE1 (his file) to try to fix their own corrupted codes. (on the other side of the star it then states, "they have to see another character to "code borrow") - with this / these codes, memory relives others lives from their point of view for a brief moment * (this is simplified) - after the code is gathered, memory can a. project their past (like a movie) on the mist that they produce b. use this code for other tricks, like "UPLOAD." (not elaborated on yet) - does NOT have bones, uses a knife or flare gun instead - information bracket [ FILE1 / SAVE1 (memory's), SAVE2 and SAVE3 (are for others). too much (of anything) at once can overheat the star (the consequences of this include crashing, which is uncommon, or melting). needs water for safe mass mist production. - the star can play doom. if mems allows someone to, they may also code in other forms of media to be played on the mist / from the star, an example being Call of Duty by Psych
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makeste · 2 years
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hey guys, so I’ve finished reading BnHA 342 which was a delight to read, but my reaction post is very, very long and will take some time to edit, so in the meantime I’ve decided to make a separate post just to talk about this one character interaction which I am absolutely obsessed with!
let’s see how long of an analysis I can make about this ONE, SINGLE JOKING REMARK THAT KACCHAN MADE COMPLETELY OFFHANDEDLY.
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1. so first off, let’s just cut straight to the heart of the matter: this. is. friendship. no more denial. no more HAH, NO WAY, OF COURSE WE AREN’T FRIENDS NOW WALK BEHIND ME!!! the Kacchan who was too embarrassed and too chuuni to admit that he was friends with Shouto died at Jakku. and the Kacchan who’s been running the show ever since then is someone who openly worries about Shouto (asking about him immediately after waking up in the hospital), unabashedly provides him with emotional support (hand on the shoulder when class 1-A confronted Endeavor), and hangs out with him in his room because he doesn’t want Shouto to be going through all this shit alone.
2. speaking as someone whose own #1 love language is using humor to try and relax people and make them feel comfortable and safe and welcomed and at ease, the fact that Katsuki used a joke as his chosen method of support here brought me SO MUCH JOY I can barely even begin to express it. and it’s not even the first time he’s done this! never forget that one time after Kamino where class 1-A was all bummed after Aizawa told them off for coming to save him, and so he grabbed Kaminari and dragged him into the bushes and made him activate his derp mode in order to ease the tension! and also to distract them so he could quietly pay Kirishima back for the night vision goggles, because that is his OTHER love language (cold hard cash!! nah lol I’m referring to the act of physically, tangibly paying him back; showing his gratitude not just with words but with actions), but yeah. 
my point is, for someone who always seems to be so angry and serious, Kacchan has a sharp sense of humor that he apparently just keeps tucked away under wraps, and dusts off only for rare special occasions like these, and I absolutely LOVE it and I need it to happen WAY MORE OFTEN. there is a very real possibility of me making a compilation post of every single time Kacchan has made a joke and/or actually laughed about something, just because I’m that desperate to know more about this expertly dry wit of his now.
3. getting back to his friendship with Shouto, this next talking point is the one that’s already been done to death (because you know I went and looked up all those 342 tumblr reactions and metas after I read this chapter because I needed to soak up that analysis asap), but nonetheless this post would not be complete without it! so this is very obviously a commentary on the fact that Shouto’s favorite food is cold soba! a fact which is known to every single citizen of the world! in fact this joke even takes that last part into account, since it relies on that fact being common knowledge in order to stick the landing! in a way it’s partially a friendly little dig at Shouto for making his favorite food such an important part of his personality! like, “hmm, so what would be the worst case scenario for Touya. well obviously it would be him liking something other than soba, since we all know that’s a deal-breaker.” basically this joke derives a good 60% of its humor from the fact that Shouto just loves soba THAT damn much. and Kacchan is obviously WELL aware of this fact because, as we all know, he and Shouto are actually best friends.
4. quick side note, this is also a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it callback to chapter 164, which featured this hilarious interchange between Shouto and his OTHER best friend.
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thus adding the additional meta layer that Shouto actually does canonically consider people who like udon to be FUNDAMENTALLY INCOMPATIBLE WITH HIM AS PEOPLE lmao. and Katsuki knows this because he was listening in on that whole conversation and bitching about the two of them being total weirdos! but ALSO he was apparently filing notes away in the back of his big hero brain because he loves Todo actually, so yeah. love it when a scene in a newer chapter retroactively makes a scene from an old chapter even better.
5. lest you worry that Kacchan is back to his OLD VILLAINOUS BULLYING WAYS by poking fun at poor sweet innocent Shouto here, let’s now talk about the ways in which this joke is also a sick burn on Touya! because that of course is the other 40% of the joke! if Shouto’s favorite food is soba, then OBVIOUSLY Touya’s favorite food is going to be the complete opposite of that, because Touya is the worst! just the absolute worst. man fuck that guy!
so there are a couple of additional layers to this part. the first is that Katsuki is very much aware of the delicate balance that needs to be struck here. because he genuinely, unironically DOES know Shouto pretty damn well by now, and so he understands how conflicted Shouto is about his brother. and because he’s a good friend, he’s supportive of Shouto’s desire to somehow redeem Touya if at all possible. and so instead of going all in on how Touya is a founding member of the final villains club WHO BRAGGED ABOUT KILLING THIRTY PEOPLE and who also KIDNAPPED HIM THAT ONE TIME, the worst thing that Kacchan accuses him of here is... having a different favorite food than Shouto. this is basically the gentlest, mildest “fuck that guy” that anyone could have possibly given here.
and then the second bonus layer is that Katsuki is very clearly taking Shouto’s side here. that’s the only possible way for this joke to land. the humor works because Katsuki takes the mundane accusation of liking hot udon, and twists it into a sick fucking burn, because ONLY AN UNHINGED LUNATIC WOULD DARE TO LIKE SUCH A COMPLETELY OPPOSITE FOOD FROM COLD SOBA, THE BELOVED FAVORITE FOOD OF TODOROKI SHOUTO. in other words, if you don’t like Todoroki Shouto’s favorite food, then FUCK YOU! Team Soba all the way! so yeah, it has that connotation too, which is actually very sweet.
6. last but not least, I just want to take a moment to gush about how this was all just perfectly executed and timed. Shouto sets him up for it, and Kacchan pounces on the opportunity without hesitation and delivers the perfect response, which immediately relieves some of the quiet tension in the room, and honest to god actually makes Shouto laugh.
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sort of! that was a chuckle at least! it counts!! anyways the point is, Katsuki read the room perfectly and understood that Shouto was trying to lighten the mood and didn’t want to have a heavy conversation about all of his feelings right now (which is something that Katsuki understands very well), so he followed Shouto’s lead and met him at that level, while still managing to communicate (1) “I know how conflicted you are about all of this”, (2) “I’ve got your back”, and most importantly, (3) “we are friends, and I care about you and support you in all things, you big soba loving freak.” it’s affectionate, it’s heartwarming, and it’s genuinely funny as hell.
anyway so yeah, that’s my RIDICULOUSLY, UNJUSTIFIABLY LONG post about what has instantly become one of my all time favorite little throwaway BnHA moments, right up there with the legendary “hey Kacchan!” scene. Kacchan being friends with people. Shouto getting some much-deserved love. Iida and Kirishima being there too, and presumably smiling and taking notes and maybe one day they can tell their children about this. that’s what it’s all about folks.
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cometrose · 7 months
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"Silk Flowers grow in pairs on small red bushes"
Other archon having twins
Zhobgli is suspicious
(Plus the god of eternity saying his story is not yet over)
“~twin where have you been~”
it’s still pretty interesting that Zhongli doesn’t have a ‘twin’
it is very clear one of the main themes of genshin is family especially between that of siblings (twins)
the traveler is the twin and all of the archons -the main characters of their respective regions have “twins”.
Venti has the nameless bard, Ei and Makoto, Nahida and Rukkhadevata, Furina and Focalors. These are characters that look identical but live very different lives.
A core part of each archon is their relationship with their respective twin. Ei struggled to move on after Makoto died, Rukkha was everything Nahida dreamed of being, Focalors made Furina play a part for 500 years. I am unsure of the dynamic of Venti and his bard but it’s pretty easy to assume he gave his life great meaning and considering he looks just like him he never could move or wanted to forget what he looked like.
So the fact Zhongli doesn’t have anybody with that kind of connection is really odd lol. I've complained so many times like “Zhongli!! where is your silly clone!” and he refuses to answer my calls. Rex Lapis is represented by silk flowers but they grow in pairs but where is Rex Lapis’ pair? Where is the moon to his beautiful sun???
Some people argue a more metaphorical twin for Zhongli is Rex Lapis/the Exuvia. The point of the Liyue archon quest was Zhongli stepping down from a role he has had for thousands of years and considering the way he talks about Rex Lapis/geo archon (he always refers to him in third person) I believe Zhongli sees him as a separate person entirely. So losing Rex Lapis was like losing his twin. Casting his exuvia aka body double on a crowd of people and burying Rex Lapis was Zhongli’s conclusion with his “twin”. He ended his reign and made peace with his life.
But at the same time I feel that interpretation is so ehhhh. Like all of the twins we’ve seen were their own person with their own thoughts and feelings. Like yeah furina and focalors were once the same person but that was no longer the case when focalors brought out the scissors and said act woman.
Let’s get venti and zhongli out of the way cause they are a little weird from the rest of the seven but we’ve never met “Rex Lapis” and then he doesn’t have a human form like the rest of them. We have talked or at least heard the voices of the “other twin” . We met rukkha, we heard makoto and neuvi let us see focalors.
A big part of the archons is their relationship with their other half but Zhongli’s stories most always focus on someone else-a different god a different entity there is just so little of what we know about him comes from his own mouth.
Besides when you look at the visual symbolism then all the archons are represented by the moon and shadows. They live in the shadows of the "twin" if almost haunted by them. They cannot live up to their glory or they are forced to be someone they are not. These 'twins' are the reason for our archon's (hell even the traveler's) existence and journey, it is why they continue forward until they eventually find new meaning in life.
However Morax is always represented by the sun and light, and you could argue that Zhongli is the moon to Rex Lapis’ sun but if you look as his symbols -his golden eyes, the golden light he uses to save xiao and his interactions with the people of Liyue he still holds that warmth.
Next the big revelation for Zhongli was his relationship with Liyue itself, not himself. We could argue that the existence of "Rex Lapis, The Geo Archon" was intertwined with that relationship but Zhongli's narrative is stepping down and taking his hands off Liyue not any personal struggle. If Liyue had failed his test he would've remained the geo archon for the foreseeable future.
That means, Liyue itself is more of his twin, it is something that plays a huge role in his identity and leaving it behind and moving forward is the core of his arc. It is Liyue that made Zhongli play the part of the geo archon, it is Liyue that made him turn on friend or foe if they were are threat, Liyue and its people are the motivation for everything Rex Lapis did. Morax’s love for his people defined every action that he did as the geo archon.
Long story short ehh if push comes to shove I can accept Zhongli's dragon clone as his twin but I would also argue against it because it doesn’t hold thematic weight that the other twins do!
In the end, we can still safely assume that zhongli’s twin has gone awol but then who are they!!! Each archon has a pair that is meant to parallel the relationship between our travelers Aether and Lumine but where is such a twin???
I've talked so much about Zhongli about everything but Ei mentions in her voice lines that she believes his story isn't anywhere finished. She even talks about him in Zhongli's teaser way back in 2020, "in his long life he has met countless people and shall meet countless more still. As they say: waters change course but mountains move not". Its kind of neat the god of eternity says your story isn't over
I may be a delusional zhongli stan but I don't think it is farfetched to say he is veryyy suspicious. We don't know his true form, we don't know the truth of his contracts, we don't know if he's hiding a twin, and the goddess of eternity herself believes his journey will continue forward.
Could he be missing a twin because he's not from Teyvat? What if he lost his counterpart a long time ago? What if we have simply not met Zhongli's twin and the two of them are separated from each other much like the traveler? I always believed Zhongli kind of crashed into Teyvat like a meteor or shooting star and that's why he's kind of weird but it could be possible that Zhongli's counterpart is just not here either long dead or with a different destiny.
Fun fact to add to Zhongli’s weirdness; Did you know Zhongli and Neuvillette are the only playable characters whose constellations are different from their character quest? Zhongli's constellation is Lapis Dei but his story quest is Historia Antiqua, much like Neuvillette's constellation is Leviathan Judicator but his story quest is called Diluvies. Which is weird cause Venti has the same constellation as Zhongli (Carmen Dei) but Venti's quests line up. Like is it a dragon thing but why?
Then most of the original archons croaked during the cataclysm and Venti went into a coma. How did Zhongli get out of the damn thing unscathed? Why didn't he lose his twin or die and shit?
I know in my soul Zhongli is hiding the secrets of the world in that pretty little head of his. He's just a bum and refuses to share it with the crowd.
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tommykinard6 · 5 months
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Headcannons:
When Tommy strolls up and saves Hen from the paper pusher in 7x03, with the whole *actually* it falls under the Mexican maritime whatever, *not* the coast guard, this is a weird fact he learned from Buck not five minutes before. Exact same conversation happened in the helicopter waiting for Hen.
Clipboard! Buck would have a very comprehensive system for his body to be bottom friendly within 2-6 weeks of dating Tommy. (way before their first time, just in case. He’s keeping his/Tommy’s options fluid)
Tommy goes absolutely feral for Buck’s lightening scars. Following the entrance scar on his chest to the exit scar on his upper thigh is how Tommy gets Buck’s pants off for the first time.
They’ve probably had at least one date between the cafe scene and the wedding.
Tommy has talked a lot about teaching Buck his hobbies. Buck could teach Tommy how to surf.
Notes:
Everyone is like they kissed so long in the lobby that there was time to serve cake! But I have yet to see, they kissed so long in the lobby other sooted up firefighters made it to the hospital wedding and also got served cake. (There is one such firefighter behind Buck in the soot-face scene, and you know Tommy got to the hospital first out of those guys)
S1 Fuckboi Buck had a dating profile name that had the word FireHose in it and says it’s not referring to an actual hose. S6 Buck confirmed to have enough experience with cock rings to necessitate owning a ring cutter. HC: Buck is explorative and who knows what else he owns but I bet it’s pretty kinky. I can see him and Tommy getting a sex swing together.
Hi nonnie!! 🍄🌸
I’ll number these as I talk about them!
1: YES. I love that actually. Buck totally went on a ten minute spiel about the things he’s learned from the internet or aviation museum.
2: oh yes! In my headcanon, Buck does switch and bottom sometimes, so I totally can see that. He had a checklist and a PowerPoint.
3: Nonnie all I have to say is YES
4: oh for sure, I absolutely think they had a “do over” at the very least. Though idk that they strictly need a do over, so we can leave it at a third date.
5: oh yes! He could teach Tommy surfing and yoga and random facts about bartending (as a bartender, I love this one) and also? Let’s not forget, ranching.
6: I never saw this other firefighter, I’ll have to look next time I watch the scene!
7: oh yes, Buck is kinky and explorative. Idk about the sex swing thing, but I could see it!
Ok bye nonnie! 🍄🌸
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hiemaldesirae · 5 months
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Tis Arrax,:3 and Fallen Angel Vox with Human Alastor (then eventually Radio demon Alastor) Anyone?
A Vox who is the baby brother to Lucifer, who looks up to him, who follows Lucifer anywhere. Who joins in on his rebellion, and--because he's so young, both Lucifer and Lilith curl around him and protect him during the Fall. Saving most of his wings from damage. They're still a little scorched, but he can still fly like Lucifer and the dark blue is visible. Vox, since he was Lucifer's younger brother keeps his human shape unlike the Sins. He becomes a Prince of Hell, but usually spends his time on earth, enticing humans.
That's how he meets Alastor--or should I say, that's how Alastor attempts to kill him. He immediately thinks this murderous human is hilarious-he takes the knife out of his chest, wings unfolding out of his back and draws Alastor close, a purr in his throat.
"Oh, Darling aren't you just delicious?" He murmurs, gently cradling Alastor's chin. Wing cocooning them Intimately. "Very possessive aren't you? I'm your muse, and no one else could have me hmm? That's why you had to kill me, precious?" Vox croons, demonic form fully showing, tail wrapping possessively around Alastor's thigh. "A gift, for when you enter my brother's kingdom--power, form your muse." He murmurs, mouth crashing down onto Alastor's tongue demanding entrance, the taste of his own blood thick as he entered his human's mouth. (A gift without taking Alastor's soul :3)
Laughing, he broke away as Alastor greedily swallowed his blood, and he flapped his wings, vanishing into the night.
Alastor of course never forgets his muse. Never forgets how powerful his muse WAS that night, or how safe Vox made him feel, wrapped in his wings (not that he'd ever tell anyone) and when he drops into hell...well, he is astonishingly powerful and becomes an overlord overnight, power no one's seen before at his fingertips.
Of course, he doesn't see is precious muse again until Charlie Morningstar opens her hotel (which he goes to help only for the chance to see more of the royal family.)
And who should be helping dear sweet Charlie on behalf of her father because he's in trouble for killing some important human too early? Why, her beloved uncle and Prince of Hell, Vox.
Alastor is thrilled. His muse, his beloved, his soon to be mate is here! Yes they're stuck doing this dumb redemption thing but they're together! Maybe Vox will let him curl up in his wings....and get a taste of his blood again. (But mostly he wants to feel safe, just wants to feel those wings around him again...)
WOOOO (very excited clapping) YES i love fallen angel aus... ive always wanted to do a fallen angel vox au but this one is the only one thats spoken to me so far LMFAO
the idea of alastor joining up the hazbin hotels efforts to rehabilitate sinners SOLELY because he wanted another chance to see the pretty (fallen) angel he tried to kill all those years ago in life is so fucking funny to me. like yeah okay go off boyfailure try and get your cognitohazard wife
also i do want to ask questions for this. obviously because i have nothing in my head ever and i hardly understand asks when i first read them through LMFAO. but uh, as a prince of hell would vox be considered like one of the sins??? in which case would we have... 8 sins? if so... i wanted to mention vainglory/vanity, which is a historical sin no longer used in reference when it comes to the cardinal sins. i think given the fact that it's now encompassed into pride as a sin works for vox, who followed lucifers guide and would thus want to follow even in his brothers footsteps when it came to his ascension (decension?) as a sin. and of course, the way that he behaves with alastor is... well. vain as fuck but you know what my wife deserves it
also. sighs and hangs my head. even though i have like 19 wips to do would you let me try and write this one too,..... (making puppy eyes at you)
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Diabolik Lovers CHAOS LINEAGE ー Subaru [Euphoria Ending]
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ー The scene starts in the Church
Subaru: Uu...Gaah...!
Yui: Subaru-kun!? Please, let go of my hand! Don't try to save me...!
Subaru: Fuck off! Not in a million years!
Yui: You can't, you'll get caught up as well...!
Subaru: Still, I just can't let go of...Uu...Guh...!
Yui: ( Ah, his wounds are aching...He's trying to protect me, even in his current state. )
( I appreciate the sentiment...but! )
Let me go, Subaru-kun! In your current state...!
Subaru: As if I can watch you die in front of me! I promised that I'd keep you save no matter what, remember!?
Yui: And I want to protect you too! I don't want to let you die...!!
Subaru: Shut up! You better not think I'm gonna let you kick the bucket either!
Yui: ...
Subaru: ...
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Yui: Fufu...
Subaru: ...Hehe.
Yui: ーー Hey, Subaru-kun. We're very similar, aren't we?
We both refuse to give the other up. Even in a situation like this.
Subaru: Yeah, you're right.
Yui: In that case, we might as well go togetherーー
Subaru: ...
Hah, you big idiot. But I guess dyin' alongside you wouldn't be that bad.
We'll be together, as we die, and in the afterlife as well.
Let's just allow the wind to swallow us up. Rest assured. I definitely won't let go of you.
Yui: Yeah, I'll be fine. Nothing scares me when we're together.
Subaru: Yeah. Come on, look at me. I'll kiss you until the bitter end.
Yui: Okay...
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Subaru: ...Nn...
Yui: Nn...
( Such a sweet kiss. The type of kiss which I love so much, making me forget all about my fears or worries. )
( If this is how I'll approach my end, there's nothing to be afraid of... )
*Flash*
Yui: ...!?
Subaru: What was that light just now...!?
*Rumble rumble*
Subaru: Oi, is it just me or is this Church fallin' apart...!?
Yui: Yeah, but how odd. The strong gust of wind and the rubble are all disappearing. Like they're fading into particles of light...
Subaru: Yeah, it's almost as if this World itself is breaking down...!
Don't worry! Just hang onto me tight, 'kay? ...Kuh!
*WOOSH*
ー The scene shifts to the mysterious Chamber
Yui: ...Huh...?
( Where are we...? We were at that Church, and then... )
Subaru: Nn...? Oi, are you alright?
Yui: Yeah, I'm fine! How about you?
Subaru: I somehow turned out alright as well...Where are we...?
The Castle at Eden...?
Yui: Does that mean we safely made it out of that World?
Subaru: Probably.
Yui: Ah, everyone else is here too! They seem to be unconscious too...
But how did this happen? Someone needed to be sacrificied for that World to be destroyed, no?
Subaru: Yeah...But seems like that World fell apart for god knows what reason.
*Woosh*
Socrates: The experiment was a succes.
Subaru: This light, and voice...Socrates, is that you!?
Socrates: At that critical moment of life or death, Adam and Eve most definitely embraced the love for each other.
I witnessed it all with my very own eyes. True love, worthy of the new World.
Subaru: The fuck...!?
Yui: ( I don't quite get it, but I guess this means his experiment has come to an end? )
Socrates: The hint I gave in regards to how you could destroy that World played a big part in everything, no?
Subaru: Haah!? You've gotta be fuckin' with us! How was that bullshit 'bout one person havin' to die supposed to help us!?
Socrates: I am not referring to that. The real clue as to how to break that World was hidden in the legend.
Subaru: The legend? The thing 'bout kissin' Eve in the Church?
Yui: But I wasn't woken up through a kiss...
Socrates: The true meaning behind the story of Sleeping Beauty lies in the fact that awakening must happen through genuine love.
If Adam and Eve can prove that their love is real and seal it with a kiss, the cage will crumble and an end will come to the everlasting nightmare.
Everyone will wake up, and a new Supreme Overlord...In other words, Adam will be born.
Yui: So, the fact we kissed at the Church...
Subaru: Was exactly that...?
Socrates: Now I have seen it all. I will accept losing a dear friend for a love this strong.
I am satisfiedーー
ー Socrates disappears
Subaru: Oi, what the fuck!? Don't just have your say and then dip on us!?
Yui: I wonder who that guy was in the end? Also, this 'friend' he spoke of...
Karlheinz: ...I witnessed all of it as well, my dear friend Socrates. It was a formidable experiment.
Subaru: You bastard...What rock did you crawl out from under!?
Yui: Karlheinz-san. Then this 'dear friend' Socrates mentioned...
Karlheinz: He was referring to me, Eve.
Still, I did not think you would have grown this much, Subaru.
Subaru: ...Che.
Karlheinz: You are now more than worthy to inherit my powers.
Both my friend and I have lost track of just how long we have waited for Adam and Eve to find true love.
For that exact moment where we discover genuine love through the appearance of two people capable of creating a new Worldーー
Eve and yourself did an excellent job proving your true love for one another. I could not wish for any more.
Now, accept these powers of mineーー
Subaru: I don't want them!
Karlheinz: ...Why not?
Subaru: I'll use my own strength to live alongside her!
*Rustle*
Yui: ( Ah...He's holding me tight. )
Subaru: My name's Subaru and she's Yui. We're not 'Adam' and 'Eve'.
I'll stay with her, both in life and death, because that's my own choice.
I don't give a damn 'bout what you have to think of that!
Yui: Me too...I am with Subaru-kun as myself, not as Eve.
Now and forever.
Karlheinz: ...I see. So you will reject every aspect of our experiment, rendering it null and void?
Very well. You did most definitely show us your genuine love after all.
I shall give you two my blessing! As you chose love over powerーー
ー Karlheinz vanishes
Yui: ( Ah, he disappeared...But now we've finally been freed from that cage. )
We can go back at last!
Subaru: Yeah. Let's get outta here already.
Yui: Yup!
Monologue The miniature World fell apart, and we finally got back to our everyday lives. All of us made it back safe and sound, without anyone having to be sacrificed. Of course, this includes Subaru-kun as well. This event proved to us, that we both absolutely need each other. One of us cannot be removed from the picture, even if that is nothing but self-satisfaction. If we truly want the other to smile, then we simply cannot leave their smile. I believe that is difficult, as easy as it may sound. However, I refuse to leave Subaru-kun's side, no matter what happens. I'll live and die alongside himーー That is different from what Karlheinz-san and his friend had in mind for us, but we shall continue to walk down this path, which we carved for ourselves.
ー The scene shifts to Subaru's room at the Sakamaki manor
Yui: Subaru-kun, you're still not getting up? Reiji-san's telling you to get out of bed already.
Subaru: Don't listen to what that guy has to say. Who cares if I stay like this a bit longer?
Yui: But you'll be late for school if you don't get up soon.
Subaru: I can just skip, right? More importantly, you should join me over here.
*Rustle*
Yui: Wah...!
Subaru: Hah, now he'll get on your case as well.
Yui: Geez, Subaru-kun.
( But somehow I'm okay with getting scolded if it's together with Subaru-kun. )
Subaru: Oi, look at me. ...Nn.
Yui: Nnh...!
You can't, Subaru-kun! If we kiss now, who knows when Reiji-san might walk in to wake us...
Subaru: Then let's give him a show. We'll make it very clear that we're too busy for school today.
Yui: Gosh...
Subaru: Who cares? We made it out of that place alive.
Let me feel you even more. I want to confirm that you're actually here with me.
Yui: Subaru-kun...
Subaru: Nn...
Yui: ...Phew...
( No fair...I can't say no when he says such things. )
Subaru: I love you. Forever, and ever.
ーー THE END ーー
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gaslighter-of-gods · 8 months
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I have a theory about the statements.
So the statement have themes. For the first episode I thought it was Frankenstein because he says only parts of him are there (I think he just means he's not who he was in life and the Frankenstein's monster thing might be a red herring) so I think it could be about the myth of Orpheus and Erydice, with her wanting to see her lost love one last time. Tying into the second statement being a warning would also make sense with this theme of not going underground (meaning the undeworld) .And I do not know how but flowers undeground just screams Persephone to me, like it's not too obvious of a reference but it's there. I think they have unknowingly alinged themselves with some entity and we'll get to hear their story later on. As for the Orpheus and Erydice reference it works on a second level if Jon and Martin are in the computer talking about their own doomed love story, with Martin saying "I couldn't not see him again. I had to try." and Jon answering about how he shouldn't have tried and follow him to the "underworld" (ep200), while at the same time warning Sam not to follow on their footsteps. This is what happens when you get involved with the magnus institute. Not to forgetting that Martin already saved Jon from the underworld once (the coffin).
Oh my god I just realized! A canary is a songbird like Orpheus is a singer!!!! Canaries should stay above ground. We start with two statements because they are linked in some way.
For the second statement I thought it was based on the portrait of Dorian Grey and it still might be but it would also make sense to be the story of Pygmalion and Gallatea, I briefly thought it might be the story of Narcissus because of how obsessed she was about the way she looked, but then I remembered that they only agreed to tattoo her after she said she was an artist. So in some ways she asked them to bring her artwork into life and they did and they gave her that "ability".
The third statement is about the myth of Daphne and Apollo. Samuel is being chased throughout the whole statement. Running from his love but in a different way. He is actively being turned into a tree. He wants to see the sun, "I so much want to see it again. I want to be warm again". Apollo is the god of sun. At first we can see an invesrion of the roles of Apollo and Gaia (in some versions Zeus but in this case it's definately Gaia) that is supposed to save Daphne. That continues to the roll of Samuel and Maddie. Also Jasmine (according to google) means gift from god as if turning into a tree is a gift to him so he doesn't have to run anymore. At the end he seems so himself. Turning into a tree and bathing into the sunlight.
So the first one is associated with Hermes (at first I considered Hades but I think that's incorrect) the god that hepled Orpheus go into the Underworld that also associated with the alchemical sign for Mercury, quicksilver which alchemists thought trancended life and death.
And the second one that is associated with Aphrodite (because Pygmalion made offerings to her altar for the statue to come to life) was that is the sign Venus, that is represented with copper (acording to google there is copper in blue pigments, I don't anything about tattoos).
I think the third is both associated with the symbol for earth for Gaia that represents stability and stillness and the the sun for Apollo that can represent light and divinity.
I don't think they are doing a horror Percy Jackson thing, I think that how the gods have different domains and are associated with specific things so will the fears but I could be completely wrong.
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hunterssm00n · 5 months
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Family is Forever
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"I just found it interesting that... 17 years later, that little baby grew up to shoot him in the face."
also on ao3: here
*cw trauma, past violence, dysfunctional family, psychological trauma, aftermath of violence, serial killers, childhood trauma, michael myers is his own warning, mental institutions, emotional baggage*
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hunterssm00n © All rights reserved by me. I do not allow this work to be used or adapted in any way without my permission.
"I just found it interesting, that... 17 years later that little baby grew up to shoot him in the face."
~~~~
It had been three weeks, and the wounds still hadn't completely healed.
The physical ones, she was referring to. The stitches were still deeply imbedded in her skin, and if she moved her face just the right way, she could feel the skin begin to split. Scarring was inevitable - she didn't need the doctors to tell her that. Physical and mental. While the physical scars were merely cosmetic, the mental scars were deeper than the sharpest knife.
Three weeks, and she still hadn't been able to shake this. To shake him.
Laurie Strode closed her eyes to her reflection. She should've known better; when she closed her eyes, he loomed larger than ever. The dark circles under her lashes were proof of that - she hadn't slept well in three weeks (some nights, she hadn't slept at all). But really, who the hell blamed her?
Even now, Laurie wanted to go back in time and close her eyes to some of the things she'd seen. She'd never considered herself to be a sheltered child. She wasn't the most worldly seventeen year old, granted, but her parents had usually let her experience things that a normal teenager should be able to.
God, her parents. Tears came to her eyes at the memory. 
Or, were they? She wasn't sure about anything, anymore. In any case though, biological parents or not, she still loved them; they had raised her, after all. 
Laurie, in the midst of being rushed to the hospital after the incident, had overheard someone - be it a cop, paramedic - mention something about a family history of mental illness, and how the Strode's had managed to keep her from being like a woman named Deborah and a man named Michael for so long...
She was taking a wild guess, but she was pretty sure she wasn't supposed to hear that. She didn't even know what it meant.
This was what had led her to agonize for the past three weeks over the absurd possibility that the Strode's were not her real parents... something she had never even considered until now.
And the man... the one who, after terrorizing her for one night, now seemed to perpetually terrorize her every night in her head. Who was he? And what on Earth did he want from her?
Laurie knew, looking at her tired, wild-eyed reflection in the mirror, that somehow, all of this was connected. Part of her wanted to brush everything under the rug, and just forget what had happened. Another part of her knew that she wouldn't be able to move on if she didn't find out what the fuck was going on around here. And she also knew who she'd have to ask. The white haired man who had tried to save her- she prayed he would be able to answer her questions. He had called the nightmare male form Michael - she didn't think it was a coincidence that she had heard that name before. The white haired man, Dr. Loomis, had told Michael that 'it wasn't Laurie's fault', and to 'let her go'. What exactly was 'it', and why would this giant man, whom she'd never met in her life, think that she was somehow responsible?
Dr. Loomis knew something she didn't. She had to get these things figured out. She would never find peace, otherwise.
Laurie looked at her reflection in the mirror. Seeing the scars up close, for some reason, brought tears to her eyes. Why did this happen to me? She didn't care that she was 'feeling sorry for herself' - she had every fucking reason to.
And now, she had a feeling she was going to feel even sorrier when she uncovered a truth that it seemed everyone knew but her.
~~~~
As Laurie limped up the hallway towards the room Dr. Samuel Loomis was residing in in the special care unit, she pushed all thoughts that were urging her to run away to the back of her mind. Now that she was so close to knowing, it was like a physical need. 508, 508, 508... she searched the numbers on each door that she passed, and briefly hoped Annie's car wouldn't have a ticket under the wiper when she went back out to retrieve it. Mostly because she had taken it without permission, and she didn't want anyone to find out she was here. Undoubtedly, Sheriff Brackett would find out somehow - he always did; had since she and Annie were kids. While Laurie was forever grateful to him for letting her stay at his house - especially while his own daughter was in the SCU as well - she was aware that he also knew more than he was letting on, and if she was to ask, she knew he'd keep his mouth shut.
So, she'd found out what room the good doctor was in, hijacked Annie's car, and had driven to the hospital. She was going to be in some very deep shit after this, but she had the leverage of only wanting to know what everyone was keeping from her. So they'd all just have to back the fuck off.
 508. Finally, she gimped to a stop in front of the room. She'd left her crutches in the car, as as not to draw attention to herself. Also, in case someone recognized her (like Brackett himself, or one of his cops), she'd be able to make a less messy getaway. That is, unless one of the stitches in her leg tore open. Why am I worried about this? I have every right to know who I am.
"Holy crap, here goes nothing." Or everything. Laurie took a deep breath, and opened the door to the room.
To her immense relief, Dr. Loomis was awake, watching TV. He recognized her immediately, as evidenced by the look of utter surprise on his face. Laurie let the door close behind her, and she limped over to the chair next to the bed on the left side.
"My dear, how are you?" asked this man whom she didn't know.
Easing herself slowly down into the chair, so as not to tear any of those damn stitches, she looked at him with a weary expression, "About the same as you; plus over a hundred stitches all over my body, minus four fingernails, and enough glass in my gut to make a windshield."
Dr. Loomis struggled to prop himself up into a sitting position in his bed, but Laurie reached out to touch his hand, "Please." She didn't want him to injure himself further, as he had almost been murdered trying to protect her. Her, this girl that he had never met in his life.
The white haired man turned his blue eyes onto hers, and then she realized she was crying, yet again. "Please, I - I -"
"Shh, it's alright," Dr. Loomis reached his other hand out so that both of his hands were clasping her outstretched one - it was about as much as he could move with an IV in his arm.
This was not what she had planned - she had carefully rehearsed what she was going to say before she came.
"Who is he?" she blubbered, snot running down her face. She hadn't wanted to spring this on him without conversation first, to soften him up, but she was far beyond the point of reasonable interaction at this moment. Dr. Loomis handed her the tissue box that was on his bed, and she took the whole thing, mushing two tissues into her watery eyes. Dr. Loomis didn't answer - he, himself, had been trying to rehearse what he would say when this happened. She had been a loose canon from the moment Michael had taken her hostage... Dr. Loomis knew that she would get an idea in her head, and it would eat away at her sanity until she found answers.
Unfortunately in this situation, the truth may have been worse than not knowing. It would certainly be a hard pill to swallow. Looking at her tear-stained, tired face, he didn't want to lie to her. The poor child had been through enough. And if she didn't find out from him, she'd find out from someone else, eventually. Someone who didn't know every extensive branch of this horrid story.
Once she calmed down a bit, she looked up at him with a silent plea in her eyes. "Who is he?" she asked again, "Why did they say that I wasn't a Strode?" To her own ears, her voice sounded foreign, almost like a childs. She grabbed another few tissues and wiped at her face, not looking away from the man in the bed.
He knew that she had to know, but at the same time, he didn't want to tell her. He wasn't quite sure how.
Taking a deep breath and letting it out, he struggled to come up with the words that would begin this nightmarish story, "... His name is Michael. Michael Myers." He saw a flash of recognition in her eyes at the name, and he wasn't surprised. Everyone knew that last name - they all knew the house, and that something terrible had happened there. The younger generations, such as Laurie's, were fortunate enough to not remember it as a real event, but rather as a horror story used to scare children. Not everyone knew the full story. Dr. Loomis was one of the few that did.
"Michael..." he began, then switched gears, "I assume you know the last name, and the rumors that are spread about it?" When she nodded, he continued, "I assure you, it isn't just a spooky story - it's so much more. Michael lived in the house with his family. He was a sweet boy, almost an old soul... but he had a-" How on earth to phrase this? "-a rough life. And when he was ten years old, he murdered three people in his home on Halloween night." Loomis swallowed, then continued. "He killed his mother's boyfriend, his older sister, and his sister's boyfriend as well. He then went into his baby sister's room, took her out of the crib, and sat on the front porch with her until his mother got home from work. Michael was taken to Smith's Grove sanitarium. After two years of incarceration, he stopped speaking indefinitely. As far as I know, he hasn't said a word since. His mother went on to commit suicide, and Michael remained in the sanitarium for seventeen years altogether... until one night, he escaped. Some guards became a little too comfortable around him, forgetting that he had murdered more than three people before he was fifteen. He broke out, and headed to Haddonfield - to his home."
Laurie tried piecing all of this together in her mind, and continued to wonder what the hell it had to do with her.
"Why did he kill my friends?" She felt the tears start again. Was it because Linda had been trespassing in his house? But then why had he tried to kill Annie? She hadn't even been on the same street as the Myers' house. "Why did he take me?"
Dr. Loomis took another breath, not looking at her. "I knew Michael's motivation would be to find his baby sister... She was the only other person besides his mother that he cared about. That's the only reason he came back here."
Laurie still didn't understand - the answer that her mind came up with made no sense. "I don't know anybody named Myers, though. There's no one in school with that last name. Why would he think I would know anything about his family... me of all people..."
Suddenly, it came to her, feeling like a train had unexpectedly come crashing into her at hyper speed. "Oh, God, I'm not - I'm not related to him, am I? Like a cousin, or something?"
Dr. Loomis looked at her then. "Laurie, you are his baby sister."
The weight of his words crushed her lungs, and a wave of dizziness crashed over her. She didn't know whether to laugh or cry - she didn't know if she could even do either one with this horrible heaviness in her chest.
The tears came again, "Please, are you telling the truth?" This couldn't be real. There was no way.
"Laurie," the white haired man looked somber, squeezing her hand, "I wouldn't joke about this, I assure you."
"So I'm not -" she blubbered, reaching for more tissues, "I'm not a Strode? I'm a Myers?" Every breath hurt; just the physical act of inhaling and exhaling seemed to be causing her actual pain. Her vision was becoming blurry.
"Yes," Dr. Loomis said with finality, his voice grim, "You are Michael Myers' sister."
Her vision went black, and Laurie screamed loud and long as she was sucked back into the world of consciousness. Her eyes shot open she realized she was in the guest room of Annie's house, where she had been staying for the past two months. Upon becoming aware of this fact, she relaxed back onto the mattress, trying to catch her breath. She hadn't screamed like that in weeks. Before the incident, she couldn't remember ever having screamed like that. It was exhausting, as well as embarrassing.
Laurie rolled over in bed, and turned the clock to face her head on the pillow. 5:11am. She still had another hour and a half before she would start getting ready for school. Sighing, she pulled the blankets up around her face, rolling onto her side. Whenever she awoke from her nightmares, it was usually a bitch and a half to try and fall back to sleep. She would wake up so suddenly; her heart pounding as he body would jolt itself up off the bed like she had been electrocuted wide awake to protect herself.
It was a legitimate fear - the reason for her nightmares was very much alive, and, as far as she knew, still sitting in Smith's Grove sanitarium (for the second time in his life). He had killed one of her best friends, attempted to kill another, and had taken her hostage in the basement of his house.
Their house; a sick part of her mind liked to remind her that she had lived there once, too. That was her intended home - the place she almost grew up in.
Angel. Her mind sounded out the word a thousand times in different tones, like some strange lullaby. Angel Myers. Much more interesting than Laurie Strode. But she was Laurie Strode. This Angel - how was an Angel Myers supposed to be? Probably nothing like a Laurie Strode.
She wondered if she would have turned out the same, had she grown up in that environment - so different from how the Strode's had raised her. Would she have the same values? The same morals and beliefs? Would she have dressed the same, acted the same? She doubted it. From what she had found out about her blood family, she would've probably been in juvie by now. Maybe she would've even picked up that knife, at some point -
Laurie squeezed her eyes shut. She didn't want to think about that.
And then there was the fact that she had a brother. Technically, she'd had two siblings, but her brother had murdered their eldest sister. What had she been like? Judith Myers... What would having a sister be like? Laurie had spent her whole life thinking she was an only child; it would've been so different from her single-child life now.
Her mind continued to wonder, and it kept drifting back to the one person she equal parts didn't want to think about, but at the same time, the person she wanted to know about the most.
Michael.
She also often wondered if he would have turned out the same, had she not been taken away from him. Most likely, she thought to herself, since her presence as a baby hadn't quelled his bloodlust in the first place. She'd only been removed from the house, as well as from the official report, once their mother had decided she just couldn't take it any more.
The whole thing was like a soap opera.
Michael was her brother, but she had barely perceived him as a human being - more so as a personification of her worst fears coming to drag her away. The mask he wore was all rotted and peeling - much like a hulking zombie. He was nearly seven feet tall. And he had instilled a fear within her that was so jarring, so deep, that she felt her chest clench just thinking about him.
That nightmarish man was her brother, and Loomis had said that she was the only person alive that he cared about.
This was why she had called Smith's Grove and asked if Michael Myers could have visitors. Once she explained her situation to the nice secretary, the woman had told her yes, surprisingly. The fact that Dr. Loomis had called a few hours before to ask the same question (on her behalf) probably had helped a little, she mused.
She could barely stomach the thought of having to go to school first. She was debating staying at home until she went over to the asylum to visit him. This was only her third week back at school - this was not at all how she imagined senior year would be. At this rate, she had missed enough school that she would either have to take summer classes, or just re-take the grade completely.
Who would've thought that one holiday would change almost everything?
~~~~
When Laurie stepped into the Smiths Grove, three thoughts went through her head at once: "I'm gonna puke", "I need to get out of here", and quite possibly the loudest thought, "One step at a time". That was what her psychologist kept telling her, and she repeated it daily like a mantra; one step at a time. One day at a time. One moment at a time. Take it all in stride, at whatever pace you need to go at. She held onto the advice like a lifeline; sometimes it was all she could take to keep from sinking to the floor in a hysterical mess. Kind of like right now, where she didn't know if she should try to turn and run as fast as she could, or if she should keep going. I'm here for a reason, I came this far. Just one step, one foot in front of the other. Another thought, perhaps the one that pushed her forward the most, whispered in her mind: This is the only way. Taking a deep breath, Laurie slowly started hobbling towards the front desk on her crutches. That last thought rang true: this was the only way. She had to know, had to be certain. Of what, she didn't entirely know. But she needed this.
She smiled, or tried to as she approached the front desk, realizing that it probably looked more like a grimace. She could only imagine how much like the Bride of Frankenstein she looked at the moment, what with all the stitches adorning her face and her hair flying around her head all crazy. She nervously tried to smooth it down with one hand as she parked herself in front of the desk, "Hi, um, I'm - My name is Laurie Strode," She took a deep breath, unsure of how to possibly continue. I'm here to visit the man that did this to my body, and also put this crazed-constantly-on-the-verge-of-a-breakdown look in my eyes.
Thankfully, the brown haired woman behind the check-in desk smiled, rising out of her chair, "Oh yes, Dr. Loomis called and said you might be coming." She reached a hand across the counter to gently grasp Laurie's. She tilted her head with a kind look, "I don't mean to pry, but are you sure you're up for this?"
Laurie thought for a long moment, deciding that this woman seemed too genuine and kind to lie to. "No." she answered honestly, "I'm not. But I have to do it now, or I never will." It was true - now that she was finally here, the fear and anticipation rising, heart in her throat, she knew she might never have this chance again. She'd probably get thrown in here right next to her brother if Sheriff Brackett found out she was even remotely close to this vicinity. Laurie could just imagine him saying to her, a pleading look in his eyes like the one he got when he just didn't know how to help her. Why Laurie? Why? I thought you were terrified of him.
I am, Laurie mentally answered to the scenario in her mind, More than I've ever been afraid of anything.
The rest of her registration seemed like a blur - then finally she was being led down a narrow hallway, weird fluorescent lighting beaming down on her. There were two guards escorting her, one on either side. Their dark clothes were beginning to blur in her vision as they continued their slow trek down the hallway. The metal clicking of her crutches with each step seemed to be growing louder in her ears, kind of like a bell tolling, or a blacksmith forging... Or a knife slicing through someone's back-
She stumbled briefly, catching herself before she faceplanted on the linoleum. The guards on either side of her immediately hopped to help, and she practically slurred, "I'm okay, I'm fine."
"You sure you're gonna be alright, Miss?" The guard to her left inquired. Laurie nodded in reply, beginning to start her trek back down the hall. They were almost at the end - she couldn't stop now. Almost there.
They reached the door, which was more of jail cell bars draped across the hallway. Past this point were the more dangerous patient's in maximum security, security had informed her before they'd started walking. The other guard to her right tapped his badge on the scanner, and the metal bars slowly started to open in front of them. All three of them stepped in to the small area about four feet by four feet between the sliding 'doors'. There was another guard on the other side where they were going to as well - definitely stationed there to stop any escaped patient's from getting through those doors. Laurie wondered, as the one set of bars clanged shut behind them, if there had been anyone at that post the night her brother had escaped. She shuddered inwardly, and decided she'd rather not think about that. Once the doors behind them were securely locked, the guard on the other side opened the doors in front of them. Laurie noted that they'd probably only open for someone with authorization, and only one set of bars would open at a time. She made sure to remember both of these factors just in case she would need to make a break for it.
She cleared her throat as they began to walk forward again, "Are these the only doors leading in and out of this wing?" she asked to anyone in particular.
"Yes ma'am," the man to her left spoke again, "And there's an officer here at all times."
Laurie tried to be comforted by that. She also tried not to remember how very easy it had been for her brother to dismantle the two cops that had responded to Lindsay's 911 call while Laurie had been in the house with the kids.
"Miss?" Someone was speaking to her, and then she realized both guards were looking at her.
"Uh, what?" God, maybe she shouldn't have taken her pain pills before she came; not to mention before she drove a car that wasn't hers.
"Are you ready?" Randy asked, motioning to the doors leading to the room that awaited them. It was then for the hundredth time that Laurie felt how not ready she was, her breath catching in her throat as she realized this was her last stop.
"Is he-" She almost couldn't finish her sentence, voice catching in her throat.
"Not yet, they're grabbing him outta his room now," the officer replied, then seeing her look of fear added, "Don't worry, there'll be six guards in the room wit' ya. He can't do anything."
Again, hobbling through the doors, Laurie tried very hard to be reassured. The words held no water; she'd seen her brother take more than one bullet and keep on going.
This room that they had just entered looked to be a cafeteria, of sorts. It kind of resembled a school lunch setting, but much bleaker. She decided that she didn't want to relate any of this to her normal life at all, and shook the thought from her head. Once she was settled comfortably at a table near the entrance, Kevin grabbed the vocera attached to the front of his uniform and spoke into it, "We're all set here, go ahead and bring Myers."
It was all Laurie could do to stay in her chair and not try and break out the door. This is actually happening, sweet Jesus. Her hands shook on top of her thighs. For the next few minutes she focused solely on breathing, staring at the table surface in front of her, attempting to keep her heart rate down. When she finally heard the door start to open, it felt like she was going to die right there. When she heard the chains clinking and the feet shuffling across the floor, she thought of how very good it was that she was already sitting down, for if she'd been standing she would've collapsed. And when she heard the chair across from her scrape against the floor as it was being pulled back, she knew beyond a shadow of doubt that she would never be the same after this.
Her hands gripped her thighs hard to cease trembling as she looked up very slowly. He was already looking at her, just as she'd expected. What she had not expected was the sheer size of him, nor the mask on his face, nor the crushing power of his gaze that practically withered her away to pure nerves. The only sound he made was gentle breathing, and he didn't move at all. He unnerved her so much just sitting here, staring at her, that she wanted to cry. But she didn't. She forced herself to look directly into those eyes, and addressed him as bravely as she could, "Michael."
The words came out in a whisper, a side effect of her fear, and she cleared her throat so that her voice would carry more volume. "Michael." To the untrained eye, it would appear that the name had no effect on the being in front of her whatsoever. However, Laurie noted that he did, in fact, react to it in possibly the only way he could. He straightened in his seat ever so slightly; such a miniscule thing, but she was watching him so intensely that she could see everything. Were it not for him breathing, and the slow pulsing vein in his neck, he could've passed for a dead body propped upright in the chair.
Laurie waited for something, anything else to happen. She waited for what felt like minutes. He did absolutely nothing else. Didn't say a word, didn't move a muscle. It was dead quiet in there, save for his breathing. One of the guards radio's crackled, and the sudden sound startled Laurie out of her stupor. Michael didn't flinch, unbothered by anything and everything. She wondered what exactly was wrong with him. He didn't look sick - not like other mentally unstable patients she'd ever seen or heard of, which admittedly was not many. This wasn't like the movies, or TV shows she'd watched. He wasn't foaming at the mouth, wasn't speaking in tongues, wasn't climbing up the walls. He wasn't emaciated or deathly pale. There was something wrong with his mind, but what exactly, she didn't know. She wasn't sure if anybody knew. What she did know was that anyone who had assumed this seemingly catatonic man was a ten year old trapped in a thirty-something year old's body was dead wrong; there was fierce intelligence swimming in his eyes. That she could see from any distance. They gleamed underneath his long, scraggly dirty blonde hair that looked like it hadn't been brushed in months. Underneath the crude paper mache, orange mask that looked vaguely like a jack-o-lantern.
She had to admit, even as her hands were still trembling on top of her thighs under the table, and even though her stomach still churned, she was enthralled by him. She wasn't sure what it was about his presence, but it held her hostage just as much as he had when he'd kidnapped her. She knew that her obsession with him on top of her fear was part of what had drawn her to come to him today. Laurie also couldn't deny; knowing that she had family, real blood family sitting right here before her eyes... it stirred something within her. And that was the only thing keeping her here.
She wasn't sure how long they sat there just staring at each other; studying each other openly. Well, she assumed he was studying her. He didn't appear to be doing anything other than collecting dust in the chair across from her. She knew that she should probably get going soon, unsure of what time it was at the moment, and even more unsure of when the Sheriff would return home to check on her. She had known from the get-go that there was always that possibility that he would realize that she had gone, more like probability. But if she covered her tracks well, he'd never know where she'd really been. No one would.
Though she was still terrified beyond reason, she was also intrigued enough to come back. Admittedly, she wanted to know more about her brother, even after all the horrible things he'd done. Why had he done those things? What had driven him? The answer to that would probably lie within their family environment that he had grown up in. She had to find out more about her blood family, and maybe she'd get some answers. She wanted to know him; though he'd caused her pain and fear beyond her imagination, she knew that he wasn't completely to blame for his own state of mind. There had to have been something terrible that had happened to him in order for him to be the way that he was. Despite everything he'd done, she felt a spark of sympathy for the man in front of her.
Her attention was immediately drawn to her brother when he shifted in his chair, and despite herself, she flinched. She knew there was (probably) no way he could break out of those chains, with his arms handcuffed to the back of the chair behind him. Then again, underestimating people like him was usually what got others into a lot of trouble. And after seeing all the mayhem he had previously caused, underestimating him was the last thing she should be doing. She looked at him, realizing that he had probably moved to get her attention, and for no other reason. Had she been zoning out again? She knew she had to get going before she became too lethargic, as inevitably the pain pills would soon kick in full force.
Very slowly, Laurie reached into her sweatshirt pocket with her bandaged right hand. She pulled out a folded photograph; the very one that the man before her had given her in the basement of their old house. She would never admit how many times she had just sat and stared at the picture, sometimes for hours. If she awoke from nightmares and couldn't sleep, she took the picture out from the top drawer of her nightstand and stared at it until her eyelids drooped. How very different things were when that picture had been taken; a little smiling blonde haired boy with nothingness in his blue eyes holding a screaming baby who clutched him like a lifeline. The picture had woven its way into her soul and filled some lonely place there.
Unfolding it, she looked at the photo one final time before she slid it across the table to stop right in front of Michael, her hand trembling despite all her efforts to stop it. He followed the picture across the surface with his eyes before tilting his head up to look at her fully. She looked back at him, and something passed between them. She could feel it, and she knew by the way he continued to stare at her that he felt it too. Somewhere in the distance an alarm sounded, and yet they remained unmoving; the Myers siblings, both silent and still in the chaos. Family. The hair on the back of her neck rose. There was no going back after this.
౨ৎ
AN: I do not own the Halloween franchise or any of it's characters. The above photos are from pinterest, and attached are links to the original posts.
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landoftheway · 1 year
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With the latest GG Strive patch I’ve seen a lot of takes on Happy Chaos’ new dialogue with Baiken boiling it down to him just not finding her to be a good source of drama, and while I think that’s an element of his discomfort around her I also think the real source of it runs deeper.
We know from Another Story, Baiken’s arcade run, and her theme song that she and her blade have effectively become “mirrors” for the people she faces. One of Chaos’s new intros with also refers to this:
Chaos: "I've never seen an eye like that before."
Baiken: "That's 'cause I've never seen one like you before."
In this case, her eye as Chaos perceives it is different (and from his tone of voice some degree of uncomfortable) specifically because of what Baiken is seeing with it when she looks at him. And I think this is precisely where Chaos’ discomfort lies: having to look at himself. He outright says to Asuka in one of their intros that “You know I have no interest in myself”, and in the Main Story when driving with I-No he tells her that “I don’t even have a self to lose sight of.” That last statement is of particular importance because it’s more or less the crux of his character: The Original was so buried under all the combined information of the Backyard that he was warped into what he is now, a being composed of nothing but the sum total of humanity’s collective desires.
But here’s the thing: Chaos DOES still have a sense of self. As muddled as his memories are he can still recall specifics of his past with Asuka and clearly has a particular attachment to him as his student, and even if his methodology has drastically changed he’s still ultimately working for what he considers the benefit of humanity. The Original is still there underneath all the noise, but Chaos clearly doesn’t want to acknowledge that presence. As for the why of that, I think Baiken says it best with three of her unique taunts against him, the first two being in the game and the third being cut content you can only find by digging through the files (you can hear it and other special dialogue here for those curious):
“Forgetting’s your thing; feelings, memories, everything. But what’s left of you when they’re gone? Forgetting’s the only way to embrace the chaos inside you. Can’t fathom what that’s like. But I bet I’m the last one you wanna meet.”
“Scared of yourself? Huh, same here.”
“My blade can’t touch those who don’t doubt themselves. But you... you’ve rejected yourself entirely. But your reason for being holds firm. Something keeps you tethered, but what? How can you possibly win? What do you hold in your heart? Atonement, salvation, ruin? Hope, desire, equilibrium? You’re prepared for all of it? I hate to admit it, but you’re fighting your own battle. That can’t be easy, being nobody’s friend or foe, not having anyone to rely on. You didn’t choose your path, so why accept it? Why take on this eternal curse? Don’t tell me I’m the only one who can save you...”
So all of that is still kinda vague, but I think it paints a clear enough picture of why Chaos doesn’t like or even want to acknowledge himself: his self as The Original is to some extent incompatible with his existence as Happy Chaos. Maybe it’s the former’s guilt at the more extreme and reprehensible actions of the latter, maybe it’s that their interpretations of what’s best for humanity have just drifted that far apart, or maybe it’s just fear at what looking back at how much he’s changed might do to him. Either way, it seems pretty clear to me that the big reason Chaos wants to stay far away from Baiken is because whenever he looks at her he has to look at himself, and as he says if he beats her in a fight, “Win or lose, there's nothing in it for me. This is the worst.”
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submission from cloverchameleon
My cursory research into Pedrolino paints him as a manipulative archetype, with descriptions of his roles in shows showing him stirring trouble to drive the story forward and then doing any underhanded thing he has to to save his own skin. I’m even seeing him described as “a Janus-faced aspect” in how two-faced he is. Very different from the sympathetic Pierrot, though there are (unproven) rumors Pierrot evolved from the older Pedrolino? Though I absolutely agree Eddie is giving big Pierrot energy, poor guy. But now I wonder if Sally’s odd sun/moon imagery that seems to crop up sometimes will have something to do with the kind of heel turn Pedrolinos seem to be known for given how oddly specific and old, even for a Commedia reference, that choice of character is. I wonder if Sally’s going to make some frightening choices to save herself as the horror creeps into the neighborhood. The fact that her descriptions of the thing from the woods are perfectly audible but left out of the transcript as “unintelligible” would certainly seem to indicate she may be the first of the other neighbors to recognize something is seriously wrong in their home.
interesting! a lot of the sources i found tended to treat pedrolino and pierrot as one in the same, so that’s what i rolled with for this response, but if we go with the interpretation that eddie is more of a pierrot while sally bears more of a resemblance to “classic” pedrolino, for lack of a better term, and/or that welcome home is treating the rumor that pierrot is an offshoot of pedrolino as fact… hm. perhaps there is something about eddie that reminds sally of something she would rather forget. the fact that the “day” half of the town clock/eddie’s watch resembles her and the night half resembles him. and that her story is all about things that go bump in the night. she tells it because she considers it to be exemplary of True Fear. night is fear. eddie is night. the only thing we have to fear is fear itself if i don’t think about it it can’t hurt me if i act like it doesn’t exist i give it no power over me. is power even what it wants. i don’t know but i will not take any chances. something like that.
…… anyway. sally does seem a bit like the self-serving type; even when it comes to neighbors whose company she enjoys, like julie or poppy, she’s quick to dismiss any apprehension on their part or get frustrated if they deviate from her scripts. she wants the best for them, and she considers stardom to be the best, but what will it take for her to realize that can’t always be the case? i wouldn’t take her story quite so literally; certainly, there’s Something going on with home’s relationship to the concept of night, but i don’t think it bears much resemblance to what sally’s story describes. i think At Most she could be like, rationalizing it as a monster to make it make more sense. whatever “it” is.
the deeper i dig, the more i find myself objecting to the idea that any one neighbor (save for maybe wally) “wakes up” before the others? or if there is an actual order, then it happens in very quick succession. i think they’re all beginning to have cracks in which Something seeps in, or from which something seeps out of, but i think those cracks present themselves a little differently for each neighbor. you just have to look. i think of how sunny was scrapped specifically because, according to clown, it no longer made sense to have a single character be the designated hero or villain.
apologies if this stopped making sense halfway through reading, i got sidetracked with a Different welcome home-related convo.
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