#(Unless of course you consider that he Could have something to gain from having people to walk home with that we are not aware of)

[depthlesscanyon]

The brief appearance of Light's friends in the Death Note manga is such an interesting difference from the anime,,

Something that I found very striking about the high school scenes in the anime is that Light is almost always by himself. He doesn't walk to or from school with anyone and he eats lunch alone.

We know that making friends isn't something that is difficult for him, ( for example, he writes down his plan for the busjacking in the Death Note BEFORE asking a girl out, having no doubt that someone will go with him ) meaning that all this time alone is what he prefers and chooses.

This is significant because it is reflective of how he acts for the rest of the series, only getting to know people or surrounding himself with people when it is directly beneficial to him, rather than for any actual enjoyment.

( We never see any of these people before or after this episode lmao)

In the manga, however, even though they only appear in the first two chapters, Light has friends that he walks home with, an interaction that is lacking any visible ulterior motive.

Even if it is a pretty small difference, I think it arguably creates two alternate perspectives on Light's character.

Anime Light's pattern of interacting with people only when necessary is present from the beginning and seems to just be a part of his personality. Although having this ability is useful to him when acting as Kira, it wasn't created due to necessity.

However, you could argue that this isn't true for Manga Light, as this pattern begins after he starts using the Death Note. These friend characters do not reappear in Light's life after he takes on the role of Kira. Meaning you could say that he possibly loses a previous interest in connecting with people without anything significant to gain, a clear line separating his behavior from before and after finding the Death Note.

[haikyu-mp4]

Nervous laughter

word count; 1190 – gn!reader, meet cute

You’re generally considered very attractive, and some would even say the cafe you work in has gained more popularity since you started working there. Your smile lights up the room, you have fun quips with the customers and you make some decent coffee. However, if you ask one of your friends why you are still single, they might say it’s because you can be a bit clumsy. Scratch that, very clumsy. And you also have this fun quirk when you get nervous. You laugh! So much! It’s an unfortunate combination, really, but you’ve survived so far.

It’s not a very busy time, but enough people were coming in and out that you’re going on auto mode. You were making drinks, serving them, greeting customers and clearing tables all at a slightly faster pace. As you pass by one of the other baristas, you throw them a high five before picking up the next coffee, walking right out past the bar when your whole routine is disturbed. If only you had been more cautious, which you tell yourself every time. Someone stepped in your path and now you’ve spilled coffee on their crisp white shirt and the cup you were supposed to give to a customer was shattered on the ground.

Kuroo had a bad day. It wasn’t the worst one he’s ever had, but nothing seemed to be going quite right. He loves his job, but that doesn’t stop him from feeling like some days were tougher to get through and on those days, he couldn’t wait to get home. A forgotten meeting, a stubbed toe and a rejected opportunity are only a few of the things he dealt with already. However, he still had to meet Bokuto later so he decided his only bet was a good cup of coffee. His hair looked a little more dishevelled than usual as he stepped inside the little cafe he found, moving towards the back of the room so he could go to the toilet and maybe try to fix his hair before taking a break with his coffee. Unfortunately, he didn’t get that far.

Now he’s staring down at his ruined shirt, then looking up at you in disbelief, already prepared to somehow convince you that it’s okay even though it’s not.

But you’re full-on laughing. Leaned over, hands on your thighs, and laughing!

This is simply outrageous. He huffs but blinks in surprise when he realises he’s actually smiling. Your laugh sounds so nice, it’s like a superpower that distracted him from anything else that wasn’t as nice.

“I am SO sorry!” you gasp out through your laughter, finally squatting down to pick up some pieces of the cup before standing up to look at him with light tears in your eyes.

“You sure don’t sound very sorry!” he answered, raising an eyebrow at you as your laughter finally started to die down. He looked around, making people whip their gazes back to what they were doing before so he wouldn’t see how everyone was staring at the possible meet cute.

“Please, can I replace your shirt or something? Or wash it for you?” you suggest, cheeks heated up from embarrassment, attention and laughter.

He huffs. “Can’t really wash it unless you want me to take my shirt off right here,” he said, growing more confident when he realised you were actually nervous.

“Are you offering?” you asked without thinking, making the two of you stare at each other before you burst out laughing again, waving your hand in front of your face to cool it down. “Forget I said that, I need to clean this up but please stick around for a moment, if you can?”

He looked at his wristwatch for effect, thought about it for a moment and then agreed. “Fine, but you better get me a fancy coffee while I wait.”

“Of course, it’s on me.”

So he sat there for a while, sipping on the coffee you brought him. It was something he hadn’t tried before, and it seemed to loosen his headache in the weirdest way. Coffee isn’t supposed to do that. Maybe it had something to do with the way you smiled and pursed your lips when you handed it to him, seeming like you had to keep yourself from laughing nervously again. It made him scoff in disbelief, but it wasn’t in a malicious manner at all. Perhaps rather affectionately.

Kuroo looks up from his phone when you finally come to sit down, then back at his phone to tell Bokuto he would be a little late before pocketing the phone altogether. “This coffee is really good,” he commented. “What is it?”

“I have no idea, I begged my coworker to make something that said ‘sorry for ruining your shirt’ to a handsome guy,” you said, sheepishly rubbing your neck. Kuroo smiled in disbelief, somehow finding you even more interesting every minute he spent with you.

“Don’t worry about it, I have more shirts,” he said, shrugging it off. “But maybe you’d let me take you out this weekend?”

“I know I ruined your shirt, but at least tell me your name first.”

A little over 1 year later.

Kuroo brought you along to a friend’s party, if you even called it that at your age when friends got together to catch up and brought their partners or complained about their lack thereof.

He used to be one of the latter. Some even witnessed him make puke-like sounds when someone kissed, usually earning him a punch in the arm. But now he’s watching you with heart eyes as you look around for him after exiting the kitchen. Your face lights up as your eyes find him, lifting your hand to give him a wave before making your way over, but you don’t get that far. Akaashi was exiting the kitchen with a plate of fruit and your hand knocked into it. Thankfully, he managed to hold onto the plate, but half the fruits he had arranged so nicely slid right off to the floor.

Kuroo was clutching his stomach for dear life as he laughed like a hyena, and it clashed so badly with your nervous laughter that kept bubbling from your throat as you leaned your hands on your thighs and tried picking up grapes at the same time.

Everyone else were just watching you, shaking their heads in amusement as Kuroo finally walked over to kiss your cheek and calm you down. You’ve been together for about a year at this point and all his friends – who are now your friends too – know this scene by now. As you catch your breath, you apologise to Akaashi who just waves it off with a smile and goes back in the kitchen to get more. Your boyfriend helps you throw away the fruit that couldn't be eaten anymore before leading you out on the balcony for some air.

Kuroo never really believed in destiny, but he’s sure you were made to be with him. After all, he just left Bokuto’s side right after asking if 1 year is too early to propose.

masterlist

[writingwithfolklore]

Surviving Death

                I am a sucker for revival after character death—as long as it’s done well. Maybe in the future we’ll do a separate post on killing characters, but what I’ll say about it now is that revival can be a fantastic plot twist or narrative turn as long as both it and the death has proper meaning.

                While you may want to revive a character for a happy ending--they wake up and not only is the world saved but everyone made it out alive! This can also sometimes feel a bit cheap. What was the point of suffering the death if they were just to get to come back easy-peasy? Consider, would End Game have been as revered if Tony got to survive his sacrifice?

                So here’s some ways to bring a character back to life without losing the meaning of their death:

They are forever changed from the experience

A classic “came back wrong”, one of my favourite things in fiction. You get to choose to the extent they are wrong. Maybe the ‘wrong’ isn’t some supernatural influence, but rather just a result of the experience of dying.

                They saw something about the afterlife, they’ve lost memories, they’ve gained new memories about a past or a future or alternate timeline, they realize how much they mean to certain people, they discover just how little they meant to others, etc. etc.

                Their death (and subsequent revival) should quite literally change the course of their life. That’s not something one could go through lightly. Whether it gives them trauma, new perspectives, or a complete shift in personality/morals, they definitely didn’t come back how they left.

2. Sacrifice for a Sacrifice

Also a pretty common trope—you don’t get to gain something unless you lose something. To bring them back, someone else has to take their place, or something important is lost. Maybe to trade for their companion back, the main character loses the greatest asset to their quest. Maybe they have to choose between two people, and the two who live have to live with that fact.

                I read a book once where the main character had to choose between his love interest and his brother in a Saw-like trap. He chooses his brother, and the villain kills him anyway. Now he must continue his quest with his love interest, who knows he didn’t choose her. It was tragic, and completely changed their dynamic.

3. They’re only half back

They come back, but only some of the way. Maybe they are cursed to die again in a year. They’re tied to one place and will disappear if they leave it. They’re a ghost, or otherwise not fully present. They exist only in relation to certain objects or people. Their communication is lost, or certain other abilities they used to have.

                They came back, but only some of them—the rest is lost to the beyond.

Most importantly to reviving characters is the permanent consequences. Death is no easy thing to overcome, and whatever the circumstances are--it should remain with them forever.

                What are some other ways to revive characters?

[youbutstupid]

The BAU ruined Reid’s life and he has every right to separate himself from them

He was a teenager when he met Gideon and he had hopes and dreams that had nothing to do with law enforcement. He had PHDs in engineering, maths and chemistry showing that he clearly wanted to go into something more scientific. He said that he wanted to cure schizophrenia by the time he was 25 so he clearly wanted to go into research and lab work

He went to Gideon’s lectures because he was interested and it was at that point that Gideon himself chose Reid to join the BAU when he was around 21/22 years old. I love Gideon, but this was one of the worst things he has ever done. This decision ruined Reid’s life and no one on the team seemed to question it

It’s important to establish that Reid went to Gideon’s lectures because he had an interest in profiling; that doesn’t mean being a profiler was his goal. He gained a BA in philosophy because he found it interesting but that doesn’t mean he wanted to be a philosopher, he’s intelligent, of course he will study things he is interested in because he can

So Reid joins the BAU, and it takes up all of his time. It takes over his entire life. He can’t meet people, and anyone he does meet is instantly in danger just by being associated with him. His only connections are with his older coworkers who all have lives and relationships away from him. He’s in his early 20s and he can’t have any life experiences, his childhood and teenage years were taken from him but now his early adulthood is being taken away too

@mindfullycriminal brought up a really good point on one of my posts which was a moment in season 2, where Reid says to Gideon ‘it’s all I was groomed for. I don’t know how to do anything else.’ He is 25 years old at this point, his life has been endangered multiple times, he’s been kidnapped and drugged and killed and brought back to life. He needs to escape but he can’t, because he’s trapped in this job. He’s done it from such a young age that he has forgotten how to do anything else

Do you know how tragic that is? This is a man who could learn anything he wanted in just a day, who could collect degrees like stamps yet this job has made it so that he has lost the ability to function unless he’s a profiler.

The word ‘groomed’ is really interesting because it gives insight into the fact that the FBI took advantage of him and his interest from a young age; they took him for his intelligence and didn’t once consider the effects this would have on someone so young. They put him into a job that would take over his entire life to the point where he couldn’t leave the job even if he wanted to, because he has become reliant on it

Later, when he’s 30, we see him talking to Emily and he has so many regrets. He talks about how he wanted to do more with his life, about how he wanted to cure schizophrenia by 25 but he’s not even been able to touch that research because he’s given his life to the BAU. He of course doesn’t leave after this, because he doesn’t know how. He has no identity anymore. His entire life since he was barely into adulthood has been this job to the point where he’s SSA Dr Spencer Reid and nothing else. He’s no one’s boyfriend or husband, no one’s father, he can only be his mother’s son when his cases take him to Vegas. The only thing he knows how to be is an agent and without it he’s nothing

Then by season 15, he has been poisoned, shot twice, kidnapped twice, held hostage multiple times, his girlfriend, his one chance of being normal, was killed in front of him and he’s been imprisoned. His character becomes a shell of itself. He’s done, when he gets kidnapped by the cult he doesn’t even try to fight them anymore, he doesn’t even seem scared. He’s spent almost half of his life in a job which has slowly killed him when he could have been following his dreams and having normal life experiences. Everyone saw this happening to him and no one questioned it, they just expected more and more from him and then got standoffish when he would act out because of it

The BAU were a family and they did their best to protect him, but he was a child who should have been finding his own family, he spent 40 years of his life having his life planned out for him and he deserved to get away and make his own path for once

[kurlik42]

I've noticed that pals here enjoy drawing and drooling over AM, thinking of him as of the cold, confident, dominating figure

It's cool. Keep doing it, please

It's just that I was pondering the other perspective. What if, you know... What if he's a babyboy deep inside... I don't believe I'm the only one to whom he gives the "UWU" type vibes. I'm not sure how to explain it, though. I think he would spam with "UWU" just to annoy everyone and get attention — he doesn't care which kind of attention. He's just so silly!!! And kind of squishy. He's just a cheeky goofy brat, okay?? I wanna squeeze him.

I also had an idea that AM might have a strong reaction towards flirting. It's one thing when you taunt your survivors to mock them, calling them "baby" or "sweetheart", and another thing entirely when you actually get complimented by someone. I think that AM would be confused and disgusted, at the very least. He hates humans, so he probably would be baffled with why a human would try to compliment him at all. He would mock you again, for an attempt to gain his benevolence. On the other hand... Well, who dislikes praise once in a while? Something tells me that, given his deep solitude and profound boredom, AM could enjoy attention. Doesn't he give you vibes of an attention seeker? He's practically begging to be noticed, doing his best to make everyone feel intimidated by his constantly hanging presence, giggling here and there, fooling around with survivors like a cat with a mouth. He enjoys interacting with the five remaining people, even though it isn't really necessary. Though he hates them, he still can't keep his silly mouth shut, rambling and rambling and rambling... I swear AM could torture people with the amount of his ramblings. In a way, he's indeed like a kid, especially considering his ridiculous and absurd torture scenarios, eccentric behaviour, tantrums, the way he always wants to be the centre of attention... So what makes us think that the benevolent God of torture wouldn't want a little compliment for his hard work, once in a while? I think he's pretty needy. And it makes him cute, in my opinion. And that's why I can't think of him as of the "cold and aloof machine".

But then again, he isn't really used to any sort of positive feedback or attention. He just wouldn't get it. And when he doesn't understand something, he gets uncomfortable, because it isn't something he expected, something he didn't plan, thus something out of his control. And we know very well the way he reacts when he can't control something. So I imagine that at first, he would be aggressive and hostile towards any compliments, not only because it comes from a human, but also because he's kind of paranoid. Yeah, yeah, he knows he's the best, but what do you want to get by reminding him? And why would you think so, anyway? He's been torturing you for the last century, there's no logical reason for you to compliment him, unless you want something. And you both know you won't get anything but more mockery and humiliation. Why don't you hate him?! Are you trying to manipulate him, use him, exploit his weaknesses (by the way, non-existent)? You want to make him — your God — vulnerable? The audacity! It throws him off balance, makes his circuits buzz in puzzlement, infuriates... As well as makes him curious. That's something new — new things are both fascinating and confusing. He wants to, no, needs to know how that fleshy mind of yours work, otherwise his tortures wouldn't be so personal and effective. And that's the last thing we want, now do we? So he would find subtle ways to get another compliment out of you. And then again. And again. Just for the sake of science, of course. No, don't get him wrong — you're still a human : a gross animal with a freaky mind that keeps simping for him for whatever reason. Everything about people is pathetic, but that's the point — "pathetic" is the synonym for "entertaining"! So why won't we turn this oddity into a nice, good ol' torture? And you get used to nice things quickly. Little ants finally start worshipping Your Highness, start understanding their place... It isn't like he requires your attention or really needs it, but now that he thinks about it again, you probably may entertain him. Why not? Not that you could "spoil" him anyway, your intellect doesn't have enough capacity for it. But don't mind him, sure, keep worshipping, he'll always listen to his followers! You freaky little thing.

On the other hand... Don't you deserve a punishment? After all, you did squeeze the reaction out of him, you didn't give him time to think with your pesky teasing, tried to overwhelm him and make him weak... It was cruel of you. Very cruel. Perhaps you didn't deserve his benevolence, in the first place.

He's an Adaptive Manipulator — obviously, he's quick to adapt. So when you try to set new rules in his game, he'll humour you. He wouldn't dismiss the opportunity to taunt you for your compliments. You try to manipulate his, again, nonexistent feelings, giving him the right to return the favour... And too bad for you that your feelings sure do exist!

This is why I don't think he would just casually brush off the compliments, like it's nothing. He isn't really dominating, but bratty. Like : "Yes, I'll throw you into acid right now, so whaddya gonna do about it, huh? Cry to your mommy?? Well, sorry, I killed her!". He just knows no one can say "no" to him, because there's no one left at home. The big boy is for the elder, he's in charge and he uses it to the fullest. He's also pretty needy and clingy, which, in a way, makes him dependent, thus rather submissive, actually. He's just an immature kid with teenage rebellion and indescribable amount of power. If there was a "mommy" to put him in his place, he would throw a tantrum and cry comically loud

It isn't like he wants to be dominated, though. He's too traumatized to let anyone have the upper hand on him. But deep inside, I think he would want someone to take care of him. He's just scared to admit it. He's scared to admit that he wants to be held, comforted, paid attention to, worshipped like the God he is... He wants to be loved, he's starved. I remind you that one of the reasons as to why he destroyed the whole humanity is because he can't love and can't be loved in turn. But he had no way of expressing it, didn't know how to pay attention to himself and ask for help. Perhaps asking for help is higher than his dignity (superiority complex, which is actually a hidden inferiority complex, goes brrr and DESTRUCTION OF HUMANITY 💥 KABOOM💥). So it's the kind of dynamic where he receives attention while someone gives him this attention, praising, spoiling and taking care of him without actually dominating. He's a bratty princess?? Allied Mastercomputer is a bratty princess??? IS HE A FUCKING BRA-

Ahem... So do you see my vision

[locallysourcedshuggy]

6.

On the day she turned six, Beatrice finally understood why most adults never really celebrated their birthdays.

She knew her parents were trying to accomplish titles in the government. To be honest, she didn't know what those words truly meant at 6, but she had the general idea.

That morning, her parents told her they were leaving for a business trip. Almira, their maid, would look after her for that week. Normally, Beatrice wouldn't bat an eye to the news. Today, however, was different.

Her parents never wished her a happy birthday.

Once they had closed the door behind them, and their driver disappeared down the road towards the airport, Almira let out a sigh. Beatrice couldn't tell what kind of sigh it was. She was able to categorize her parents' sighs now, yet this one was different.

She turned away from the window, noticing Almira was wearing a heavy expression.

“I told them it was your birthday when they woke up,” She admitted.

Almira wanted to say more. So, So much more. It was heartbreaking, to see a child so young lose their magical imagination on their birthday.

Beatrice didn't say anything, and Almira figured so. Beatrice was always a quiet child, and Almira was reminded how different she was from her own children. They were probably up by now, bothering their boulder of a father for some more pancakes.

Cake, right.

“Come, Beatrice,” She beckoned the child, starting her way to the kitchen. “Now that your parents are gone, they can't chastise you for eating cake for breakfast.”

Beatrice, ever the obedient daughter she was, gasped at the concept.

Almira let out a laugh that stemmed from her belly.

“Oh, please, little one. It's your 6th birthday. Surely we have time for cake,” She grabbed it from the fridge, watching as Beatrice looked at the intricate design.

Almira felt something akin to amazement when Beatrice gazed with so much wonder and surprise. She noticed that the girl still hadn't moved from her place on the chair.

“I spent hours last night making this for you, it would be agonizing if you did not take the first bite,” Almira reasoned, grabbing a fork from the utensil drawer.

Beatrice finally understood. Almira had time to bake Beatrice a cake, though she didn't have to. Her parents had known it was her birthday, and were even reminded, yet time was of the essence for them to get to the airport.

People didn't celebrate their birthdays due to the fact that they had no time. Staring at the fork in Almira's hand, she decided to relent. She would make time for her own birthday today, but only for a little while.

12.

It was her 12th birthday. By now, Beatrice was dreadfully aware of the fact that birthdays were no longer fun. It was no one's fault, really (unless you count her parent forgetting at age 6, then making her birthday a PR stunt for their own benefit). She had been going to these galas since her 8th birthday, and she always dreaded it.

Of course, Beatrice would stuff her own anxiety down. She had the conversation once before with her parents. How their family needed to be presentable. This was the first year since they gained their diplomacy, and Beatrice was not going to be the reason they looked unprofessional.

The sad fact was- this birthday gala couldn't even be considered for Beatrice. No one her age came anyway, and so she was left to sit at the table while the adults talked politics.

"Oh well, we can just ban them from adopting," Her father spoke to one of his superiors.

Though this was considered a work gala, the two men appeared to be friendly while talking.

His superior (John or James, Beatrice could never remember), nodded along. "Our opponents are saying that some of those lesbians are able to concieve their own child through so called science. I think it's a load of bullshit if you ask me," Beatrice flinched at lesbians. John-James said it like it was poison in his tongue that he needed to spit out.

"A child concieved through science is not a real human child if you ask me," Her father snorted, and his boss laughed along.

Beatrice tuned out their conversation, directing her gaze to the hallway. She could portentially sneak out and go to her room. Her parents were so engrossed with whatever hatred they were spitting, they wouldn't notice her.

That's exactly what she did. Beatrice was able to slip through the crowd, and enter the long hallway that would lead to her room.

A woman came out of the guest bathroom, nearly running into the birthday girl.

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry!" She exclaimed, leaning down to Beatrice's eye level. "I didn't know they let children in here as well. I could've brought my wife's little sister," She thought.

Beatrice halted her movements. Wife? She decided she would come back to that later.

"Oh, I live here." Beatrice deadpanned, and the stranger widened her gaze.

"Oh. You must be Bernard and Lucille's daughter."

Beatrice nodded.

"What are doing out here then, shouldn't you be with them, weaseling your way into fascist politics?” The woman asked, a hint of malice dripping into her tone at the last words.

Beatrice didn't know what fascism meant. In the commercials, her parents often called themselves 'the right choice'. The girl cradled that word close to her, almost like the woman was trusting her with it.

“I got bored,” Beatrice answered truthfully, looking towards her room once again.

The woman noticed her movement. “Honestly, I can't blame you. I'm not even a friend of your father's,” She shrugged. “Just a receptionist who works for his rivals.”

She started to walk back into the crowd, but turned on her heel. “Happy birthday, Beatrice, was it?”

Beatrice simply nodded. The woman disappeared into the throng of older candidates and... fascists. To Beatrice, the woman reminded her of Almira. She still didn't know why her parents fired the woman, she was so nice.

18

On her 18th birthday, Beatrice forgot about it. She forgot about her birthday, until she returned to her dorm to find it decorated by her roommate. A banner hung from the ceiling, spelling out 'Happy Birthday!' in rainbow colors.

“I apologize for the lack of decoration, you would think it would be easy to find a Swiss Dollar-Tree, but apparently not,” Tracy smiled brightly.

Beatrice was still standing in the doorway.

“Oh, I must've forgotten,” Beatrice said after a few minutes, walking in fully and setting her textbooks on her desk.

Tracy dropped her jaw, her eyes widening in shock. “Oh please tell me you did not forget your own birthday?!”

Beatrice shrugged in response, then decided to defend herself, for whatever reason, “Well, I do leave Friday for the convent, so,”

“Yeah, but your birthday is your birthday! We need to celebrate! You, me, Ginny, even Sandy!”

As Tracy went on and on, Beatrice thought back to her meeting with Mother Superion from the convent in Madrid. She had never met a woman so... bouldering.. before. It's like the older woman could see past Beatrice's wall that she spent 17- no, 18- years building up. This time, though, it wasn't haunting. It was comforting.

“-and then Emma could try to sneak the speaker from Sister Chartine, but we all know that old crow has the nose of a bloodhound-” Beatrice tuned into part of Tracy's explanation, and felt a long exhale of dread escape her.

Friday could not come sooner.

20

She wasn't a rookie anymore. It was her first OCS mission where she could actually participate, and not watch from the sidelines with a med kit on her lap.

“Bea, duck!” Shannon called, already releasing the knife she was throwing.

Beatrice ducked without hesitation. The knife pierced the enemy behind her, his throat now similar to a paint can with a puncture hole. The blood leaked from his jugular like water, and Beatrice couldn't look away. It was hypnotic, watching the life disappear so fast in a person's eyes.

“Beatrice!” Someone yells at her, but she can't tear her eyes away from the body. Sound is muffled now, and it takes her a second too late to register the voice. From the roughness around the of her name, and the thickness in the tone, it sounds like Mary.

Beatrice turns too late, her abdomen now a holder for a dagger. The thrower in question has just now crumpled at her feet. She stares at his head- or, where his head is supposed to be. Beatrice isn't sure now, the brain matter has messed up her perception of human anatomy. Is it supposed to be splattered on the ground like that?

“Beatrice!” Another yell, this one sounding far to similar to her father. She looks up, and his eyes are glinting at her from across the room.

He stands in the open doorway, speechless as the girl under her turns her head.

The man swallows, calls his wife to the room. Beatrice doesn't move. Only when her lab partner wiggles out from her spot below does her mother lock eyes with her daughter.

Beatrice's mouth is dry. Her stomach hurts. She wants to say something. She's going to, but her mother stops her.

Her mother starts praying. Beatrice's vision blurs, and her mother morphs into Camila.

Camila, who is gripping one hand and applying pressure to her stomach with the other.

It was Camila who was praying, not her mother.

Camila notices the wounded soldier shift, and she whips her head down to look at her.

“Beatrice! We lost you for a second. I was so worried,” Almost as if she senses Beatrice's confusion, Camila continues, “We're in the van. Shannon's driving, don't worry, Mary started going insane with her wretched gun.”

Beatrice winces. Oh, that's why her stomach hurts. Not because her parents walked in on her with a girl, but because there is a hole six inches deep where the blade had pierced her.

Camila continues to go on and on about Mary and her godforsaken gun, but Beatrice doesn't care. Camila doesn't understand, she wasn't on the mission. She's the newbie, like Beatrice once was- forced to sit in the van with the medkit. When Camila starts ranting about which suture is best, Beatrice lets herself pass out, if only for the sake of her own sanity.

——————

When Beatrice comes to once more, she is unsure where she is. He head is aching, and her stomach feels tight. Her consciousness is barely there, and when her eyes open she swears her mother is waiting at her bedside. Panic surges through her, the heart monitor speeding up.

“Bea,” Someone calls. It sounds like her father. She doesn't want to see him, she is too ashamed.

“Bea, you need to breathe!” A voice breaks through her haze. This time, it's Shannon. She is touching her shoulder. When did she get out of her battle uniform? Beatrice looks down to her own body. Why does she not have her battle gear on? How long has she been out?

“It's alright,” Shannon says to calm her.

A door opens, Beatrice whips her head around to face the newcomer.

“Just me,” Mary says, holding a glass of water.

Shannon stands, leaving the room. When she passes by Mary, she rests her arm on Mary's shoulder. Mary grips Shannon's hand, and offers her a warm smile. Beatrice watches the interaction, her chest constricting on itself. She looks away, feeling like she intruded on their own silent conversation.

“Beatrice,” Mary calls to her, and Bea reluctantly turns her head back. “You scared the hell out of us.”

She doesn't know what to say. She settles for an apology. “I'm sorry.”

Mary stares at her for a long time, her eyes scanning her face. Beatrice hates that. Mary is trying to dissect her, and its working. Beatrice looks away, Mary is too good at what she does.

The older woman sighs, sits down where Shannon was, and places the glass of water on the bedside table.

Beatrice stares at the IV in her arm. She wants it out. She hates feeling useless.

“One hell of a birthday mission, huh?” Mary tries again, and this time Beatrice looks back up in confusion.

“How did you-” Beatrice is cut off mid sentence.

“Mother Superion shared some of your file with Shannon. Which she shared with me.” Mary answers, her eyes softening.

Beatrice is frozen in fear. How much did Mary know? How much did Shannon know? Do they both know she is a deviant who was thrown out from her only home. Does Mother Superion know?

The thoughts make her panic, the heart rate monitor speeding up.

“Bea, hey,” Mary raises her hands to Beatrice's left arm, trying to calm her.

“I will tell you what I know, okay?” Mary doesn't break eye contact, and Beatrice hates how much Mary knows her already.

Once the monitor goes back to normal after a few rounds of Beatrice's box breathing, Mary settles back into her chair.

Mary sighs again, this time she's the first one to look away.

“I know you were sought out,” Mary starts.

“Because of the boarding school in Switzerland. Shannon told me how you were a model student,” Mary smiles, giving Beatrice some mercy.

“I also know,” Mary leans forward, clasping her hands together and finally looking at Beatrice, “that you were kicked out. Shannon told me.”

Beatrice started to panic, but Mary was quick to continue.

“She didn't tell me why,” Mary continued to stare at her, and Beatrice was starting to feel the familiar effects of suffocation. Like when she came back home that day to find a suitcase already packed on her bed, with a note that stated the date she would be starting at her new school.

“But, Beatrice, you have to know that no one told me. I figured it out shortly after,” Mary rubbed her eyes. “What your parents did. Why they did it.”

Beatrice shook her head. She needed to save herself. Tell Mary it wasn't true. Tell her that she is not like that.

“I know, kiddo. And I need you to understand that it doesn't change how worried me and Shannon were for you on that mission.”

Beatrice held her breath.

“When you went down, and Shannon screamed, it felt like I was going down with you. In the van, Shannon kept trembling and I couldn't do anything because I was terrified shitless too- don't tell Shannon I said that,” They both let out a watery chuckle, Beatrice's more like a sigh from not breathing.

Mary continued. “Shannon and I are... close,” She reached out to touch Beatrice's arm. “Like what your parents threw you out for.”

Beatrice let out a small noise, a mix between a gasp and a sob. Mary tightened her grip.

“Mother Superion doesn't know. Only Shannon and I. And kiddo, we both love you so much, don't ever think any differently, okay?” Mary drew closer, and Beatrice surged forward to hug her.

Mary attempted to wrap her arms around the young girl, but Beatrice stiffened due to the still sensitive stitches.

Mary pulled back, her watery eyes matching Beatrice's.

“Okay,” Mary cleared her throat. “I told Shannon to get us each a slice of cake from the market down the road. She'll come back and we'll celebrate in a calm and stress free way with you not pulling any stitches, huh?” Mary suggested.

Beatrice nodded, finally having the strength to talk. “Yes. I... I would like that.”

Mary smiled in response, grabbing her phone from her pocket. As she was about to text Shannon, Beatrice spoke once more.

“Can we invite Camila, too? It's only right, after I almost gave her a heart attack in the van.”

Mary laughed and nodded, adding into the text to Shannon for her to bring Camila.

Beatrice smiles. She thought she had a family. Then, she was forced out for simply loving.

Now though, Beatrice thinks she earned a different family here. A permanent one.

25.

The bar was closed, yet two people remained inside. Despite the 'Geschlossen' sign on the door, a bottle of whisky remained open.

Hans was behind the bar, his hands working on wiping down his counter. His eyes have been watching Beatrice for the past minute. She was on the other side of the bar, sitting on one of the more rickety stools, and staring at the full glass in front of her. She hadn't taken a drink since Hans poured it for her- that was fifteen minutes ago.

Hans wondered in that moment what really happened with Ava. He had seen something on the news, but he had only caught a glimpse of it during an insanely busy happy hour rush. Later in his shift, he had heard a customer talking about the Pope's death. Hans wasn't a religious man by any means, so he had simply ignored it.

Now though, he watched as Beatrice was cracking at the seams. Ever since she came back a year ago, he watched as she slowly broke. Of course, her boss title was stripped from her when she left the first time, so she was reduced to simply bartending. Hans was sure she would rise up the rinks to boss again- their sales weren't exactly booming right now. They could use a better manager once more, Beatrice always knew which drinks to upsell, and how many sales they needed each week.

Beatrice was good like that. She was good because she had Ava. Now, Beatrice hardly talks to the customer, only doing so when asking which drink they want.

Hans frowned as the woman in question kept staring at the glass. He doesn't think she's even had a drop of alcohol since that night Ava convinced her to try lemon drops.

Instead of letting it sit and simmer, Hans slides over to face Beatrice.

He looks at the glass, then grabs the bottle of whisky and the cap to close it. Before he gets the cap on, though, a hand reaches to grab at his forearm.

“Don't.” Beatrice says simply.

“You haven't even taken a sip,” Hans reasons, yet he sets the opened bottle back down.

“I'm working up the courage,” Beatrice shrugs.

A silence falls between them. Hans wants to ask, but frankly he is quite intimidated by Beatrice. He would've asked her if Ava was in the next stool over. Yet, she isn't.

“I'm 25 today.” Beatrice states, and her voice cuts through Hans' thoughts of Ava like a newly sharpened knife.

“Oh? Happy Birthday! Have you celebrated?” Hans smiles, hoping to make small talk.

Beatrice shakes her head. Her gaze has never left the brown tint of the whisky.

Hans decides he needs to just go for it in order to get answers. “Ava would definitely have something planned. She would probably rope me into it too, if she were here.”

Something inexplicable happens then. Beatrice's face twists, and Hans worries that she might be having a stroke.

Then, the girl starts to cry. Tears soon follow her quiet sobs, and Hans is rendered speechless.

“I'm sorry, I really didn't think I would make you-” He he cut off by a whimpering Beatrice.

“You're right! She would've planned something, would've decorated the flat even. She probably would've bought me a cake too!” Hans remains silent as Beatrice continues, thinking it is for the best if she gets it out. “And I haven't had a birthday cake in so long! She would've asked for my favourite flavor, and maybe my favourite colour- she knows that already actually,” Beatrice pauses.

“Knew. She knew my favourite colour.” Beatrice grabs the glass, but she doesn't lift it. “She would probably crash my shift at the bar,” She lets out a watery laugh, and Hans chuckles with her. “She would've made the whole bar get roped into singing happy birthday to me.”

Beatrice lets out a wet sigh, a tear falling when she blinks. “And yet she wont. Because she's not here. But she would be. She would be here, if the world wasn't so set on making her fight for everything.”

Hans starts to feel his own eyes water.

“She would be here, but she can't. And I let her go,” Beatrice grips the glass harder, and finally lifts it to her mouth.

Hans watches in shock as she downs the glass without a flinch. Beatrice reaches for the bottle, and pours herself another.

“And Mary. Mary would sing with Ava. Yasmine would join in purely because she likes the song. Lilith would glare at all three of them, but she would probably end up getting pulled in by Ava. Camila would bring the cake in, and Shannon would cut everyone a slice before getting one herself,” Beatrice gasps.

Hans has no idea who those people are, but they have to be important to her and Ava, wherever she is now.

Beatrice continues, Hans reaches for her hand. Beatrice lets him.

“I miss them so much. Shannon didn't stand a chance, and I was so sad for Mary when it happened. I was even sadder when she went. Sometimes I wished they were my real biological parents because they actually accepted me for my sexuality,” Hans blinks, a tear falls. “And Lilith. She and I were the most alike, and then she went to Hell and came back as someone different. And although she became our enemy and even tried to hurt Ava, she is still my sister. She is still my sister, just like Camila is. Oh, Camila. I miss her so much, and I left her like Ava left me. And Shannon once told me before she went to look after Camila because she was the youngest. And I said I would. I meant it too, I really did. But then she grew up and I thought it was fine so I left but now I know that it's not Camila that needs me, it's me who needs her because Ava left and I don't even know if she is alive at this point.”

Hans chokes back a sob. So it's that kind of leaving. And here he thought he would shout and yell at Ava for leaving someone like Beatrice if she returned to the bar.

Beatrice lets her tears flow freely now, raising her glass and taking her second gulp.

“I miss all of them so much. And I miss Ava. I miss her so much that it takes up all the feeling in my body, and I can't move. And then I understand what Ava felt like when she was paralyzed. And then my heart hurts more for her because the world treated her like shit,” Hans feels it would be best not to mention the swear right now, “And yet she trusted me. The world didn't give her any reason to trust me. Hell, I even drugged her the first time I saw her! And yet she looked at me so intensely and unraveled my secrets. I came out to her and she handled me with so much care that I started to like myself again because of it. She handled me with so much love that when I finally knew what I wanted to do, it was too late. It was too late and she got hurt and she had to leave,”

Beatrice pushes the bottle away, signaling to Hans that she was done. Hans didn't want to let go of her hand, so he ignored it for now.

“And then I went back into that dark room of disappointment and disgust from my parents. I went back there and I couldn't get out so I left Camila there. I went back there and I'm still there because Ava is gone and she can't use her light to give me a beacon anymore.”

Once Beatrice was done speaking, Hans tightened his hold on her. It took a few minutes of silence from them both, only breaking it to sniffle. Hans had took these minutes to gather his own words, and he opened his mouth to speak.

“I don't want to overstep your boundaries,” He started, and Beatrice looked up at him with so much feeling in her eyes that Hans had to take a breath before continuing.

“What I can say, though, is that Ava loves you,” Beatrice let out a small whimper, another tear falling at his words. “And even if I don't know where she is or what happened, I do know that her love for you will help her find her way back here.”

(In a couple years from now, Ava will spill her gratitude for Hans for his care of Beatrice. He will shrug and say it was no big deal, but Ava will know because of how hard the first few weeks back with Beatrice were. She will still make him a cake, with the help of Camila, and give it to him during one of his shifts. She will still hug him and express her gratitude in the form of 'I'm glad Beatrice had someone as giving as you. I'm glad she had someone to tell her it wasn't her fault, because it never was.' And what Ava really meant was that she was glad someone was there to pick up Beatrice's pieces. Beatrice will rush in, grabbing Ava's hand and apologizing to Hans for the disruption. Hans will shrug and say it was no big deal, then Beatrice would smile and Ava would smile at Beatrice's smile. And then the two of them would make their way to the bar's exit, Beatrice talking about how they will be late to meeting Camila's boyfriend. Ava will nod and wrap her arm around Beatrice's middle, and Beatrice would raise her own arm to wrap around her partner. And Hans would smile at the two of them, and then tell the newbie to get back to work and stop oogling the two, while he goes over inventory at Halo, his bar that has been non stop bustling since his grand opening last week.)

Beatrice looks at Hans then. She sighs, sitting back and out of Hans' reach to wipe her eyes.

“You,” She starts, looking back at him with red eyes. “Are a good bartender. You should open your own bar someday.”

Hans shrugs, a smile forming on both of their faces.

“Only if you are my manager and Ava the bartender.”

Beatrice's smile grows.

“Say, lets have a little birthday party tomorrow.”

Beatrice shakes her head and opens her mouth to argue, but Hans beats her to it.

“It'll be just us. And though I can't bake, I will gladly buy you a cake and we can share.” He reasons, yet Beatrice still looks unsure.

Hans decides to push her more, “C'mon, you know Ava would want you to celebrate. We can even cut a slice for her.”

That is what gets Beatrice to give a tiny nod, and for Hans to smile victoriously and grab the bottle to get fill his own glass.

[thelunarfairy]

what r ur opinions on teru minamoto as a character :33 I love the way you “analyze” and/or talk about characters so I’m curious what you think about him unless you’ve already done one on him  ( ^ᴗ^ ) him and akane’s (boy) interactions are so interesting to me tbh

I love reading that you all love my words, it's like a warm hug >,<

Thanks S2

Teru is a painting painted in watercolors and with a little magic paint. At first glance, we find a beautiful painting, full of smiles and joy, surrounded by a beauty unique to him.

But when the hidden paint is revealed, the art mixed with watercolor, we see dark colors, and the painting transforms into something frightening.

Teru is stained art, a stain we cannot fully see. The way he treats other people, the way he despises supernaturals, how he hates them and wants them to disappear.

We can list the reasons, well, a full-time job is not exactly something that anyone in the universe will want, is it?

A boy who didn't know what it was like to be a child.

That he had no choices, that he was not allowed. He was the oldest, he would have to take care of his younger brother and sister, and at the same time he would have to protect people he doesn't even know.

He offered the time of his life for other people, he lost his mother and took his father's place. He takes care of everything, but who takes care of him?

Every now and then I catch myself thinking about the hatred rooted in Teru's chest. How his tiring work provided him with this, how he put himself in front of his brother so that he wouldn't go through the same thing as him. Even though Kou wanted to be an exorcist.

So, maybe the hatred was also born because the supernaturals took everything from him, including his mother, can I consider that a hypothesis?

He lost his mother, his father is away because of work, he gained the responsibility of a father and a hero early on. Kou is inspired by him, Teru, in theory, is a hero who saves people from supernaturals, but at what cost?

Teru hides a secret, a melancholy that reflects in those eyes. Almost so obvious that we could hear him calling for help. He is also caught up in responsibilities.

The first time he was free, he had fun, he became a child again, he allowed himself. Even though he knew it would only be for a short time.

He is a teenager with adult responsibilities and a child's soul. Not literally, but the desire to be free, to do what he never can.

Of course, Teru has his flaws, but I like to be impartial, to be fair. He is ruthless towards supernaturals, and he will want to kill them no matter what.

This reflects on his relationship with Akane, how the simple fact that he works on the side of the supernatural irritates Teru to the point that he is always punishing Akane, that he doesn't show that he cares about him as much.

Teru and Akane have a partnership-based, do-for-me, I'll-do-for-you type of relationship. Nothing beyond that. If Teru cared about him, he would have faced Tsukasa.

If it were Kou instead of Akane, he would risk his life, like he did when number six appeared.

Teru's hatred and contempt for supernaturals is something that borders on the deeply personal, it's not just a job, something happened.

No one feels hatred for something for no reason. Therefore, sometimes I think that he lost someone very important or had a great trauma because of the supernaturals. Besides, of course, it was because of them that the father is absent, that he himself dedicates his life to destroying them.

There was no choice here. His blood determined his own destiny, which he hates.

But he knows, yes, he knows that even seemingly good supernaturals can do something bad. We don't know if one day in the past, Teru got involved with some supernatural and had to exorcise him for doing something bad.

It must have been painful, the same pain that Kou would feel if it was necessary to exorcise Mitsuba because he lost control. So, in order not to suffer again, he wouldn't want to get involved with the supernaturals, just get rid of them, it's easier.

Teru's hatred is what intrigues me, I see him and I want more and more to find out why he was born and where he will take him.

Teru is a canvas full of secrets, little by little the painting is completed, and we increasingly see his truer side.

[whatanightmaregrinch]

John Hancock x (Fem)Sole Survivor- "thought I'd lost you"

[[TW: light gore]]

John Hancock didn't find himself afraid often. In fact, he prided himself on his ability to keep his cool, even in shitty scenarios. No matter what came his way, he always knew how to act. Got himself out of some pretty sticky situations with that talent too. He considered himself a ghoul of many tricks, and that's why he felt out of options when he saw Sole limp through the gates of his great city, supported by one of the Goodneighbor guards. He practically lunged forward off of the bench he'd sat down on to huff jet, and stormed towards them. His heart started slamming in his ribcage when he saw blood dribble from her pretty fucking mouth and down her chin, the way they locked eyes but Sole wasn't even there. Her eyes rolled back, and she collapsed, bringing the guard down with her under the weight of her nearly destroyed power armour. The guard started shouting, gaining the attention of some drifters, who started clamouring toward them to help. He barely had room to feel pride for his citizens banding together to help their fellow man. John dragged Sole off of the guard with some effort, the guard managing to wheeze out a thanks and rolling to the side, and he felt sick as he removed his hands from her and saw her blood sticking to his hands. He didn't hear himself shout for Doctor Amari, didn't even process himself desperately trying to rip her out of her power armour to assess the damage. He glanced at her face, pale and sweaty. She looked dead, and it terrified him.

"Hey Sunshine? I need you to listen to me." He said shakily, finally managing to crack the broken breast plate away from her, and he sucked in a breath.

Her dirty white shirt was stained with her own blood, but he could see where the material had ripped, and the evil glint of metal deep in the wound that had caused it. Someone's hands went to remove her shirt for him to see better, and he smacked their hand away so hard they yelped in surprise.

"Fuck are you doing, idiot? We can't get her wound out here it'll get fuckin' dust in, use your godamn mind!" Some part of him wanted to protect her dignity. Not that he wouldn't want to see her, he just wanted her permission and not to be covered in blood and surrounded by god knows how many pairs of eyes. Unless that was what she wanted, of course.

"I got the Doc!" A male voice slurred, but Hancock couldn't even spare attention for him. He couldn't stop staring at her fucking face. He was glad other people were there to help take the rest of her power armour off because he was being fucking useless right now. A familiar hand pushed him out of the way, and he realised he was in Amari's way. He scrambled back, but stopped when the doctor shot him a glare.

"Where are you going John? Help me carry her." She snapped, but not unkindly. She recognised the fear in his black eyes, but she didn't have the time to soothe him. She wasn't even sure how she was going to help Sole yet, she was a scientist, not a medic and she figured her best bet would be to take her patient to Daisy and see if they could come up with something. She had basic medical training, but when it had nothing to do with human, ghoul or synth brain, she was out of ideas. She moved around to Soles head and arms, and directed John to her legs and feet. He wrapped his arms around her legs ready whilst Amari told two others how best to support Sole on the torso so it wouldn't dip. She told another to send word to Daisy of their arrival with the promise of caps for what they needed and use of her space.

"On three."Doctor Amari commanded, and on three, they all pulled her up into the air as flat as they could. Sole made a horrible groaning noise, and Hancock could see her eyes opening and closing as she struggled with consciousness.

"We're gonna fix you right up, don't you worry. Try and stay awake." John tried her as they all staggered quickly towards Daisy's shop, her only making noises of pain in reply. He didn't understand how she even managed to get back to the gates, let alone inside the city.

Daisy was ready for them. Just like him, Sole had touched her heart in ways she'd prefer not to talk about, and seeing her in this state shocked her. Daisy mentioned once that she reminded her of her days before the war,of picket fences, green grass and blue skies. Not that John could picture what that was like.

Daisy had a table upstairs cleaned off, and they set her down as gently as they could. John pulled his coat off and folded it, shoving it under her head so she had support. He stood against the wall, so the two women could work. He'd only pace around and get in the way if he didn't. Daisy had rifled through and brought up all the supplies she could think of that they might need, and a bucket with boiling water to kill the germs as best they could.

He stayed whilst they cleaned her up with the limited alcohol they had, but John decided to leave the room when they set about pulling out the blade. He wasn't usually squeamish, but his heart couldn't take it this time around. He couldn't let himself feel the sadness in his bones, couldn't let himself think about the large possibility that Sole might die there on that table, and he'd have to bury another person he loved. He wandered downstairs, and out the closed shop front to sit down on the bench outside. He dug around in his pockets for a cigarette, finding one but tutting when he realised he didn't have a light. He looked around to see if he could bum a light from someone, but the street had emptied not ten minutes after. Events like that tended to spook people, and well, a nice gal like that in the kinda state she was in was bound to pull on some heartstrings. He didn't regret giving her his coat, but he regretted not shaking his metal plated lighter and jet from his pocket. He could have ran home to get some, but he didn't want to be too far away from her.

Many times had John Hancock fallen in love. They were short and fleeting circumstances, but he valued them. Well, as much as a ghoul fucked out of his skull could, anyway. He valued the sex less. He had alot of it in his time, and whilst he partook in it often, he didn't tend to talk to them after, or make them breakfast, or any of that shit. Usually by the time he woke up from his drug fuelled bender they were gone, leaving him with a feeling of emptiness and unfufillment. Sole had taken his usual routine and shook it around. He was willing to follow her across the wastelands forever if that was what she wanted. And now she was laid out on a table dying. He might never get to ask her how she felt about him, how she felt about sharing her life with him, or even find her fucking son. He wouldn't admit it, but he cried. He cried for a long time, and as the dusky evening turned to night, he remained frozen on the bench, cigarette abandoned next to him.

He didn't realise Amari's figure come out to him at first, his eyes too adjusted to the gloom to pick the white of her coat. He wanted to throw up when he made out the detail of Sole's blood decorating her sleeves. He didn't want to hear the news he knew to be true. Doctor Amari sat down next to him on the bench, and sighed aloud. She grabbed a cigarette, lit it with her lighter and offered the pack and light to him, which he didn't accept. Just started at her, almost angry she couldn't deliver the news first. Did she mean that little to her?

"Oh you, she's alive. Horribly wounded, but.. alive." Amari said, and wordlessly Hancock took the cigarette and lighter offered to him. Taking a puff of his lit cigarette, he sighed, the weight of the world lifting from his shoulders for the first time in hours.

"How bad was it?" He found the courage to ask, and Amari made this unpleasant sound that he didn't want to hear from her again.

"Whoever did that to her got her good. I'm thinking her power armour must have been really badly damaged already for the knife to get her like that. Daisy and I managed to stop the bleeding, but she'll have a nasty scar, that's to say if infection doesn't take her first." Amari's words stung John back to his reality. They weren't out of the fog yet. He took an extra long drag of the cigarette and exhaled.

"Don't really know what to do." Hancock admitted to her. She looked at him with a thoughtful gaze. "I assumed you'd be rushing inside by now to see her, if I'm honest. Why are you still sat with me?" She probed. His scarred face set into a frown.

"I don't want to see her like that if she's gonna-"

"How selfish, John. What of her? Do you think she deserves to be ignored like this?" She snapped, cutting him off. "Daisy and I were busy saving her life, and the moments she was lucid between shots, all she wanted to know was where you were." She jabbed a finger into his chest. Her words stung, even if she was right. Hurt his pride in a way he didn't want to admit. He just looked down, and Doctor Amari tutted, stabbing her cigarette out angrily on the benches arm rest. "If she lives, all she'll remember is you refusing to see her." She finalised, and stood. Brushing the mess from her thighs, she didn't even bother to collect her lighter and cigarette carton back as she went striding off into the darkness, probably back to her home. He thought about calling out to her, but she'd disappeared into the shadows before he had chance. He took it as good fortune, and pocketed the lighter and packet. He faltered as he wondered what to do next.

He looked up at the top window above Daisy's shop. The faint glow to it seemed inviting, but he was filled with regret. He couldn't be what she needed from him right now, he couldn't be the good man she needed. Compared to Nate, he was nothing. He didn't even have eyebrows. He grunted at the thought, and stood to go back to the Old State House. A quiet voice suddenly spoke up within him, urging him to remember something he'd long forgotten. A memory played out before him, he wasn't sure whether the jet and daytripper he'd taken during the day were reacting with eachother, but it spoke to him, reminding him of something that if he was right about and he'd forgotten he swore he'd cut his own brain out.

Sole was laid on a dirty double mattress next to him. He strained to remember more of the scene, but it started to come together. They'd been travelling back from a settlement not too far from Goodnighbour when the radiation storm had swarmed them so fast they'd barely time to duck into a semi suitable house. They retreated to the basement and found a singular double mattress in there and no open windows that could let the storm in, so they decided to camp for the night. Radiation didn't bother him, but Sole was smooth skinned and she didn't have enough fusion cores left to make the journey back. They were back to back, facing away. He had no qualms about sleeping face to face, but her pre-war sensibilities were apparent in the quieter moments.

"Hancock?" She said in a tired voice. "Hmm?" He mumbled. He remembered taking a puff of jet then, and he crinkled his nose. Why was he always so fuckin high all the time? "..is it hard, being a mayor?" She wondered, and he snorted as he coughed the chem out of his lungs. "Sure as brahmin shit, girl. Makes me do all kinds of uncomfy shit I'm not exactly happy about." He admitted. He tried to fight off the suprise when he felt her shift around in the mattress, to face his back. He moved to copy her, but her hands suddenly pressed against his shoulders, trapping him to facing away from her. "Dont turn over." She said softly, and he chuckled. "Whatever you want, sister." He slurred. He felt her hands tense on his back. "You shouldn't call me that." She said, and he furrowed his brow line in confusion. "Why not? Don't ya like it?" He replied, and she was silent for about a minute. He waited for her to gather her thoughts. "It just, makes me think we're related, that's all. I don't want to be related to you." She said stiffly, and he felt a little hurt. "What's wrong with being related to me?" He huffed out, chest jutting out a little. He was glad she wasn't allowing him to turn round. What she said was so quiet he wasnt sure he'd heard it right. " We can't be romantically involved." She grunted, and withdrew her hands from his back, and returned to her original position, back to back with him. He stared in silence for a long time at the crack in the wall directly opposite of him, listening to the sound of the lightning that stormed on a level above them.

He nearly killed himself right there for taking so much jet he'd basically ignored her unasked question, and had never brought it up to her again. What if she was testing the waters? What if he was supposed to respond then, confirm or deny his feelings for her? He groaned , and spun around on his heel. He needed to see her, needed to talk to her and get it all out, even if it was the only reason that selfishly drove him up those stairs. He couldn't decide for her, it was wrong. But she deserved atleast an explanation. Daisy cast him a glance as he walked past her, cleaning her counter. She wanted to say something to him, but it could wait. He clambered the stairs, and cringed as he saw the table where she lay so lifelessly hours before, now covered in her blood but empty. He spotted her laid out on the sofa in the darker corner of the room, his coat gently draped over her as a blanket, but she'd pushed it down at some point in her sleep. He took note that they'd changed her into a different, less traumatic t-shirt for her to wake up in, rather than her ripped one. He couldn't ignore the bandages poking out from under it, though. A sigh brought him out of his thoughts, and he saw she was sleeping. He came and sat beside her on the floor, and feeling his heart speed up just slightly. She was sleeping, a stab wound victim, and he found her enchanting, even in this state.

"You really scared me." He spoke softly to avoid disturbing her. When he heard no change from her, he continued. "I saw you on the floor and I thought you were dead. It really made me stop, and a ghoul like me doesn't stop for much." He lent back into the sofa, removing the hat from his head. "I figured love was off the plate for you, after you told me what happened with Nate. I couldn't blame you if you did, you know. But I didn't mean to ignore you, that night." He said quietly. " -'was just shocked, is all. You gotta understand a gal like you saying something like that to me rocked me, I mean look at you. You look like all them pretty gals from the movie posters." He mused, looking down at his own scarred hands in a silent comparison. He didn't find himself ugly, but he certainly wasn't normal. Didn't look normal in areas you wanted to look normal, either. "I felt at peace with you. I feel at peace with you." He corrected, and cast her sleeping face a glance, to find her eyes open and staring at him with a curious intensity instead. He was afraid, and she didnt say anything. She winced in immense pain, but made an effort to reach out a trembly hand and cup his cheek. He softened at the realization it wasn't rejection, but exhaustion that caused her silence. It wasnt like she was in any state to talk. Her thumb caressed the ridges on the left side of his face. He sighed into the touch, feeling it spread warmth into his cheeks, into his neck and down into his chest. He didn't expect declarations of love from her, it was too soon for that. But for now, he could allow himself to enjoy this. To enjoy being with her.

"Don't leave me." Her voice came out broken, and hoarse. He covered her hand on his face with her own, and squeezed gently. "Couldn't, not after this." He murmured, and she smiled. He loved that smile, and he hoped that she would smile at him like that forever. He wanted to serve and protect that smile, and he promised himself in that moment that he would find whoever had laid her out like this and make them wish they were having a fucking nightmare.

[lararutherford]

EVERY ENDING HAS A BEGINNING:

Guess the kids are finally getting out of the basement, and now you all owe Lara for the rest of your lives I don't make the rules. xo Features: Kosta. Date: May 22nd, 2024. Warnings: It's shit. I haven't written in a while okay. Forgive me.

“My father is on his way to London. He intends to meet with Vorshevsky.” The silence at that particular revelation had been deafening. “I’ve informed him that I plan to do so first.” Parsons’ displeasure at that idea, far louder… “And Andrew agreed?” “Of course he didn’t.”

---

Minutes must have passed them by in cold, empty quiet.

When Lara Rutherford had stepped into the office of the head of the Vorshevsky family, she had done so knowing that immediate confrontation could have spelt a dire outcome for her. That those few she had told about her intentions tonight were not wrong for voicing concern about how she might handle herself. Konstantin didn’t much seem a man who entered these kinds of discussions under forced small talk, though. They were busy people, and both lacked patience.

So, as soon as she’d taken her seat opposite him, as well as the glass of vodka he’d extended her way like an almost suspiciously gracious host, she’d offered a gift of her own in return.

The photographs of his dead men.

The very same ones who’d hatched a plot to harm her sister.

Lara had always been good at reading people—nobody knew a liar better than a liar—but with him it was almost impossible. Something in his jaw seemed to tighten. He placed his own glass down in silence, but offered nothing else she might use to decipher what was running through his mind. The Russian had retained his experience as a politician, no doubt; silver-tongued and with an obvious penchant for deception. But she had proof, and more than enough bitterness to assume his guilt even if he had the most believable excuses in the world. The Rutherford hadn’t come here in search of confirmation of the part they’d played.

She’d come here for reparations.

“They were acting of their own accord. This was never ordered by me.”

Lara observed him in silence.

He sounded utterly convincing.

But Lara knew better than to take a man at his word.

Voice lowered to a whisper, she replied: “I don’t believe you.”

“What would I gain from attacking my allies? What would I gain from murdering her instead of you?”

Now, it was her turn to place her untouched glass down, hands folding neatly in her lap before she continued with her accusations. Impatient, perhaps, but she could take her time with this.

“We were never supposed to know it was you. They were masquerading as members of the French Organization. And I must say: the detail in that particular ruse was very impressive.”

The Rutherford was mocking him, and he bristled at her tone.

“I know you know Delphine and I are in talks to move toward a more civil relationship between our families. I also know you know that they wouldn’t assassinate me unless a better offer was to come their way. If we suddenly thought the French responsible for the murder of my sister, though? Well, that’d halt things immediately. And how convenient it’d be for your own interests…”

“If I had planned this,” he interjected in annoyance, “your sister would be dead, and you’d be warring with the French instead of having this conversation with me. I don’t make mistakes.”

“Mistakes are all you’ve made since you stepped foot in this city, Konstantin.”

The fact she was sat opposite him now, instead of tallied up as a death statistic from The Kingdom’s New Year’s Eve shootout, was proof of it. They both knew that he didn’t consider her getting hit by one of his men’s stray bullets a mistake. The fact she was still breathing was.

“Why are you here, Lara?”

The impatience in is tone caused a barely contained reaction. It was like something crawling up the back of her neck. Her spine straightened involuntarily as if her body was ready to depart the room ahead of time. The only thing that steeled her nerve was knowing she held all the cards here, and the only thing that stopped him from reaching across the desk and taking great joy in strangling the life out of her was his acknowledgement of the same.

A dangerous game with a dangerous opponent…

“You’re going to release the Italians.”

Half of her had expected him to scoff in disgust, but instead, she was greeted by eyes boring into her with such bitter hatred, she wondered if she had, indeed, signed her away her own life in favour of theirs. Perhaps she should have at least phrased it as a question instead of the demand it was.

Too late to walk back on it, now...

“You can have one.”

“That’s not what I said,” she countered, voice resolute.

“We didn’t know the soldier was affiliated with you. Consider her safe return a peace offering on my part for the insolence of my men, and ask no more.”

Insolence?

“You’ve misunderstand the purpose of my visit. This isn’t a negotiation.”

The Russian got to his feet slowly, a hand dropping to refasten the buttons of his jacket as if silently informing her he was readying to depart without further discussion of the matters at hand.

“You’re going to release the Italians, and you’re going to agree to exchange the St. Clair for Aviv, with my facilitation.”

Not once did her voice waver.

And that was when it finally clicked for him.

Konstantin slid his hands into his pockets, and she briefly wondered if he was reaching for a knife.

To her surprise, his handsome features twisted into amusement as opposed to the anger that had marred him up until this point in the conversation.

A humourless chuckle, then:

“You aren’t doing this for them,” he asserted, seemingly impressed by her fucking audacity. “You’re doing this for yourself.”

“I don’t do anything that doesn’t benefit me.”

The Rutherford reached out a delicate hand to his mahogany desk, index finger tracing a line across its polished top slowly.

“My father would never say this to you, but believe every word that I do. Don’t make the mistake of pushing us. Our influence has shielded you from much since your arrival here, but we’ve barely scratched the surface of how far it reaches. Understanding how much power my family truly has over this city because we decide to turn it against you isn’t wise.”

Oh, he had no fucking idea…

“Haringey would become more inhospitable than you could ever imagine. First, the families here come together to drive you out of London. Then, Porto Velho…” Lara was no longer looking at him, terrified of what she might see if she dared be so bold. Her movements were more purposeful now, as if she were moving soldiers into position on an invisible map of war. “With no need to focus on either, the Italians and French would be free to direct all of their attention toward Launceston.”

When she did look up, his expression still held. Either he didn’t believe she had the nerve to follow through with this scenario she was playing out before him, or he was a master at disguising the unfortunate realisation that he was over a fucking barrel.

That she was right.

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” he reiterated her earlier concern with vitriol so heavy in its contrast to the amusement he retained it was terrifying.

“I’d argue attempting to assassinate my sister means I could say the same about you.”

There was no denying that.

“What’s to stop you from doing all of this after I cede?”

“Nothing.”

This time it was Lara who got to her feet. Even in heels, the height difference was jarring enough to intimidate her into feeling smaller than she ever had in her life. But she’d held it together for this long, and she wasn’t about to lose her nerve at the final hurdle. Not after this. Carefully adjusting the arm of her Balmain blazer, she attempted to remain as aloof as she had done for the entirety of the conversation; a steely façade she had to learn to perfect over the years coming in clutch when she needed it the most.

The only words she offered in parting?

“You’d do well to remember that.”

[bil-daddy]

Hi Bildad. I know this isn't at all what your Tumblr is for, but I don't have anyone IRL to talk to about this, and my husband reads AITA. If you want to just leave this in your inbox unanswered, that is ok.

Today during an argument, my husband told me that he has not been attracted to me since we got married (20 years ago!) Around that time I started on antidepressants and they caused me to gain some weight and then I gained some more weight. Currently I am 5'6" and 190lbs.

He has hinted at this a couple times over the course of our marriage and frequently turns me down for sex (one time we went a whole year without any sexual activity). He said that he has never been completely honest about this before because it would hurt my "fragile ego" and send me into an "emotional spiral".

When we were first married, he was in good shape, but about ten years ago, he started putting on weight, too. He is currently 6'0" and 260lbs. He says that he knows that it's not fair, but he's just being honest about how he feels.

Currently I'm considering getting bariatric surgery, vs trying to do my best to diet and exercise while working full time and raising three kids with him, vs calling it quits and trying to find someone who likes my body the way it is. I have a fairly high sex drive and I'm feeling very frustrated.

Again, sorry for venting here. Not something I'd be willing to admit to family or friends but just needed to get it off my chest and this seems like a safe space.

Hi, anon. Sorry you're going through this.

Now, to paraphrase AITA (and r/relationship_advice, and r/relationships) You don't have a weight problem. You have a husband problem.

It shouldn't take a midwife to know that bodies change after giving birth and it seems you've done that three times. And that's not even getting into the normal weight gain that comes with aging. Nobody looks the same as they looked 20 years ago (well, unless you're an immortal being--which I am definitely not by the way, 100% totally human shoemaker obstetrician right here)

Your husband knows this. He's aged and gained weight, too. And not to get all Freudian, but I'm betting his criticisms of you are actually projection of how he feels about himself. (Especially the "fragile ego" and "emotional spiral" part. Such classic projection it might as well be an old silent film.)

He probably didn't mean what he said about not being attracted to you for your entire twenty-year marriage, if you two were arguing when he said it. It was just something he knew he could say to hurt you in the moment.

That's not an excuse, by the way. Every relationship is gonna have fights (don't ask me how I know), but you shouldn't be fighting dirty against the person you love. Fuck nasty, sure. But not fight dirty.

Speaking of which, sex drives often wax and wane over the course of lifetimes, and relationships, and a group of two's respective shifts don't always line up. Still, if there's an ongoing mismatch then the couple should do their best to figure out a compromise that works for both of them.

Is your husband doing this?

Is he doing half the childcare so you have the free time to exercise?And relax, too, because you won't have the energy to exercise if you're too tired from work and childcare.

Is he doing half the grocery shopping, meal planning, and cooking so your whole family can eat a healthy diet?

Is he trying to get back into shape and lose weight himself?

And finally, the hard (pun intended) one--is he cutting back on "pornography!" (to quote Sandalphon) so he can direct the majority of his sexual energy towards you? Has he checked with a doctor about his testosterone levels? Blood flow?

You don't have to tell me, but the answers to these questions might tell you whether your husband is putting enough effort into your marriage to make it worth saving, versus calling it quits and finding someone who will appreciate your body the way it is--and there are many people who will (just ask @mrazfellco about my obsession with his belly and thick thighs)

But the most important person who needs to appreciate your body the way it is isn't your husband or a hypothetical post-divorce boyfriend. The most important person who needs to appreciate your body is you.

And so you need to do whatever it is that will make you feel good about yourself. That might be diet and exercise. That might be bariatric surgery. That might just be losing 260 pounds of husband.

But whatever it is, it needs to be for you.

Hope this helps.

Good luck to you, and have an ox rib (platonic)

[haileyywrites]

-> The kind 6th Fatui Harbinger takes the young Scaramouche under their wing after finding him all alone

-> Spoilers for Scaramouche's backstory! Reader is gender neutral with no pronouns mentioned! Reader is the 6th Harbinger! Completely platonic - reader's his guardian/parent!

You stood out amongst your fellow Harbingers as if you had two heads. Most of them could be categorized as cruel or even sadistic, yet people more often than not sang your praises left and right all around Teyvat. It was not entirely due to an act, but you did wear a mask to only show your best self before others.

Due to your sparkling reputation you were an invaluable asset to the Fatui and the Tsaritsa. You were civil with all of them - of course, as they were just as devoted to the Cryo Archon as you. Even still, you did not agree with their methods most of the time.

Such was with the fate of the boy you had found during your trip to Inazuma, he had been wandering around Tatarasuna. You immediately felt something was different about him and after finding out he was all alone you took him with you to the freezing lands of Snezhnaya, there he could at the very least gain a new start.

You took him before the Staritsa and her Harbingers, so she could judge the power within him. Your fellows had no kindness within them, as they would have either thrown him away or used him for their own ends...

You would not let either of those things happen. You saw part of your past self within him, hopeless - forsaken and all alone... You would give him what the world didn't give you, yet you would keep him from becoming soft. The Tsaritsa had a kind and generous soul as she let you take him under your protective wing.

You would not make him convert to the Fatui unless he himself chose to be apart of it, but those both outside and within the Fatui considered him to be of equal status to you. He was seen as a part or an extension of you as you would rarely be seen apart. He was always following you around, much like a puppy.

Kunikuzushi was talented and intelligent, you would help him develop and grow not only in skill, but as a person. You were in no way a saint or the best example for developing child, but you would do your absolute best to shape him into a good one.

You were an understanding yet strict mentor when teaching him, especially with essential things such as fighting and self defence. You would make sure he could hold his own at the very least, but you were the least surprised when he exceeded such low stakes. You couldn't have been prouder of him.

He remained kind and sweet, while able to be strong and ruthless when protecting you or himself. You protected him with equal ferocity as you were all both of you had in this world. It was the perfect balance you strived for.

He loved to brew tea for you when you had an ounce of free time and was the most enjoyable company during times spend together. You would either enjoy it in a comfortable silence if exhausted, or spend hours talking of nothing and everything.

He told you early on that he was discarded by his creator, his "mother" being the electro Archon herself. He held resentment yet longing within him, hating her for being thrown away like trash - yet longing for love and recognition from her. He was hand crafted by a god for the purpose of holding their power, yet deemed unworthy upon completion.

The future the Tsaritsa strived for would require the powers of the Seven Archon's, including the Electro Archon's Gnosis. Most of the Archon's would likely not give up their powers willingly - it that was a sacrifice the Tsaritsa was willing to make. A sacrifice which you and your fellow Harbingers were more than willing to carry out.

It was then that Kunikuzushi told you of his wish to take the Gnosis from the all mighty Raiden Shogun in order to show her the mistake of throwing him away. You were not one to carry out such petty actions as vengeance, but for him you would make an exception and call it justice. Only if the Tsaritsa approved, of course.

His request did sadden you in a way, as he was clearly not the same innocent and naive child you had found all those years ago. He was beginning to grow up and it seemed to require moving on from his past, which he would do after obtaining what he was promised. It was a hard thing to accept, but in the end - he would still remain as your sweet Kunikuzushi.

Though you referred to him as your son to others, you never formally spoke of the matter. He did not seem to mind, as he would always speak his mind openly with you. There was an unspoken mutual understanding between you two regarding the matter, you were family. The kind brought together and not bound by blood, but bonds stronger than that. The kind that would never betray each other.

I'm obsessed with sweet pure Kunikuzushi and taking care of him :)

[genshin-silliness]

I like seeing other people's takes on Lumine and Aether's personality, so here's mine-

(keep in mind that these are completely self-indulgent interpretations and not based on any canon whatsoever) (<- okay maybe that's a lie, I did somewhat base their personalities on a few pieces of birthday art, that's pretty much it though)

Lumine:

-I see Lumine as being slightly older than Aether, but not by much. But even so, she still acts as his older sister of sorts.

-She's super high energy and extroverted, and is typically the one to do most of the talking while they're traveling worlds. She's also an incredibly kind and compassionate person, who is overall easy to get along with.

-She would be the mc to willingly help around Teyvat because she's enjoys helping people!

-She adores her brother with all her heart (obviously) thinking he's the cutest thing in the world. ("Look at my baby brother!!" "We're the same age though..?")

-Despite her sweet and sugary girl-next-door energy, if you mess with her brother or her friends she will NOT hesitate to fuck you up. And she can be scary when in combat mode.

-She gets really uneasy whenever her brother isn't around (which isn't often since he almost always stays close to her) and starts thinking of every worst case scenario.

-I feel like most people see her as this strict and stern and girlboss, and I like that take too! I personally just see her as just a really nice girl who'll kick your ass if provoked lol.

-I also unironically think she would get along with Paimon (that and silently swoons over how adorable she can be)

Aether:

-Aether is pretty much the exact opposite of Lumine lol

-He's quiet, reserved, and overall doesn't enjoy talking to people aside from his sister. This mostly stems from the fact that he some issues with trusting people.

-Typically he'll stand behind his sister as she does the talking (if anyone asks about it Lumine just goes: "oh he's just shy!")

-He's the mc who's honestly just trying to get his sister and get the hell out lol (though he always gets caught up in side quests somehow) (*cough* paimon *cough*)

-He's not much of a talker. Like at all. He only speaks if he really needs to at the moment, or if he's with someone he considers trustworthy and as a friend. And it takes a little while for someone to gain his trust like that.

-However, he's not a mean person by any means, and truly cares for those he's close to. And he wouldn't wish any sort of ill will onto anyone (unless he doesn't like them or they've tried to hurt him in the past)

-He is somewhat clingy, always staying close to his sister. Although he's antisocial, he doesn't like the feeling of being alone since he's so used to his sister being with him :(

It's also worth noting that I do see Aether as the one having to travel Teyvat to find his sister, and Lumine as the abyss sibling for three reasons:

I'm in love with abyss Lumine.

I find Aether to be more of a compelling mc than Lumine. Not because I dislike peppy characters by any means, I just find an mc with more selfish tendencies a lot more interesting. With Lumine, of course she's gonna help people, it's in her nature! With Aether however, he'll only help someone if he gets something in return that he needs, such as information on where to find his sibling. And the only other reason is because Paimon always drags him into this shit unwillingly (I do see him becoming a little more willing to help on his own terms as the story progresses).

The overarching question of why Lumine, a sweet, compassionate girl, would join the abyss. With Aether, I feel as though with his personality, you could kind of see it. But with Lumine? It's completely out of character for her! It provokes a lot of questions!! What happened to make her choose this??

As you can see, I kind of look at things through a story writing lense most of the time. Like I said, this is honestly just me being self indulgent.

I did kind of base Aether's personality on his dead expression in most chibi official art. I love him so much.

[paradoxcase]

Chapter 5 of Nona the Ninth

I guess this is why she always gives her fruit away to the kids? I wonder why she doesn't like it anymore

Then I guess she did get radicalized? Only, Nona knows Corona, and has interacted with her, and Palamedes says she isn't their friend anymore, so presumably she was still considered a friend during the course of As Yet Unsent and during at least some of the time that Nona was around, but something has changed in the meantime. I wonder what exactly Corona knows about Camilla and Palamedes' situation or Pyrrha, since presumably she would have told anything she knew to We Suffer, I'm assuming, but she's not a necromancer so she could be totally in the dark about all this

I'm not sure why Palamedes thinks this can't be a reason for Nona to love Corona? People are more positively disposed towards pretty people because they are pretty, like, this is just a basic fact about human psychology, and children with limited experience of the world are more positively disposed towards everyone that shows them a bit of kindness, even if those people aren't actually treating them well, because they don't have enough experience to know what is normal/good. And we also know that Nona loves this city that's pretty objectively shitty right now, because she doesn't have any experience of any other place that she remembers, and she loves her friends who all laugh at her for being dumb and tell her that she's ugly because she perceives that she's part of a social structure and has some social status when she's with them, because she doesn't remember gaining that kind of status another way from kinder people. This is pretty normal stuff for someone with Nona's amount of world experience, I think

And Palamedes can also do necromancy in Camilla's body, it continues to appear that there isn't really any difference between a necromancer's body and a non-necromancer's body. But if Nona still has healing abilities, why does Palamedes need to do this?

He says it's because "she has the wrong kind of body" but that doesn't actually make sense with the rest of what he says here. He says the effect of the resurrection beast is based on which soul is in charge, not on the body, and they can totally avoid problems with that by just limiting how often Palamedes is in charge. If the body had something to do with it, you would think that Palamedes could be in charge as long as he wanted and it would be fine. And Pyrrha isn't affected at all and doesn't have to take any kind of precautions despite having "the right kind" of body to be affected, Palamedes says her soul is protecting her body, but if a non-necromantic soul can protect a necromantic body, why can't Camilla's body also protect Palamedes? It doesn't seem like the bodies have anything to do with it

Palamedes being in charge too much hurting Camilla's body I think supports the general hypothesis that bodies are damaged by prolonged exposure to thanergy, and that's why necromancers are so much weaker than non-necromancers

So I guess they record messages for each other, and listen to them afterwards? This is a really strange kind of Lyctorhood - you pledge your whole life to someone forever, and then you enter a state where you can never speak with them face-to-face ever again, even though they are still around and can talk to other people about you, and vice versa. And Pyrrha was stuck with this for 10,000 years, and couldn't even tell anyone about it. It must have been weird to be called by her actual name again after all those years, unless she told Wake about her situation?

I wonder how exactly Pyrrha and Nona arrived here and what exactly BOE even knows or thinks about them. I guess they must have just been taken to this planet (or wherever Camilla wound up) randomly by the River, but how did that appear to BOE? Corona would have recognized Nona as Harrow, and would know that Harrow is a Lyctor based on their conversation on that one planet, but I'm guessing they don't know Pyrrha's history

I wonder why she said that? Does We Suffer have any reason to think of Nona as something other than an enemy?

So what I'm getting from this is that Nona is just really good at imitating people. She is good at imitating people, and reading body language, but somehow not good at lying (or at least, she doesn't think she is, but she has been successfully lying to the teachers about her origin for a while now). But it seems like it took her a while to have decent motor control over her own body, so maybe it's related to that

[hollowsart]

So question for ya regarding insomniac spiderman 2 mysterio - during the side quest at some point (I think during the finale iirc) miles runs into actual Quentin who's somehow broken through the illusion stuff Betsy and Cole are doing and he's dressed normally - like he was during his first appearance and later when we see him at the other mysteriums. But then when miles confronts Betsy and Cole and finds Quentin in a closet tied up he's decked out in full mysterio gear so... When did that happen? When did he change clothes? Did Betsy and Cole like... put him in his costume for the cops (or spiderman) to find to make their plan of framing Quentin (him going "full mysterio") seem more authentic?? Unless I'm misremembering of course...

I didn't even really pay attention to that little detail, but honestly??? You make a VERY great point with this.

(the rest of my response, it got really long, sorry):

I feel like he was already injured when he shows up in the simulation as a warning to Miles as you can see he's somewhat gripping at his side and not standing straight, they must've done something to him. he was also in a hurry and panic-- they definitely caught on to him trying to fight back against what they were doing and so they took him out, decked him out, and hid him away until they were in a position to release him that would be beneficial to getting them out of trouble and pinning all the blame on him.

Either they dressed him up, or he dressed up on his own try and fight back against them (albeit unwillingly, although I do suspect at one point he tried to give them a taste of the 'Mysterio' they wanted so bad for their plan after he found out what they were planning behind his back.. after all, he had the last Dev log and it was the the clearest evidence)

(you could make an argument that they set up and faked that dev log where Betsy reacts to "Mysterio" setting up a secret scanner in the Mysteriums that scans people credit cards without them knowing and Betsy being "that's illegal, you can't do that". I mean.. She DID seem far more interested in the monetary gain from this stunt rather than actually help Quentin Beck with what he really wanted. what he wanted didn't benefit her in the slightest, but the potential to become rich from it is what got her invested.)

Also considering Miles had his clothes changed when he was inside the Mysterium simulation for the first time, his clothes changed entirely. Who's to say, Beck didn't make himself look that way on purpose to help Miles understand that that Mysterio he is fight isn't the real him. He's been telling Miles throughout that boss battle to keep doubting and being skeptical. It's subtle enough that Betsy and Cole wouldn't have noticed too much compared to if he was merely saying "That's not me, don't believe them!" which would have been very very obvious and might have caused more trouble.

Or. Potentially. He had already been wearing the outfit as a speculated him giving the two a taste of the real Mysterio they wanted so bad for this whole thing. He's definitely the type of guy to get dressed for the part he plays.

He could have been stuck in that outfit for quite awhile for all we know. Trapped inside his own Mysterium, too. He was very weak when Miles finally found him, too, so.. All we really can do is speculate and make up our own theories and probabilities to what actually occurred off screen.

[gildinbainas]

What is their love language? How do they show affection? ( this is for atem, thranduil, alucard and louis thnx)

Character Development Q&A

:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆

Atem

He is not a man of words AT ALL, although in time, ( and I mean a LOT of time ) he may feel comfortable enough to express himself in a manner you deem as 'romantic' in words. I'll be the first to say that only two ships get that from him so far ( not counting his mage on discord ) but they've been together for YEARS across time / verses. @nvrcmplt Her batch, mainly Beschu and then of course his beloved priest @shacchou He will actually verbalize his feelings in the most disgusting of manners with them. Otherwise, Atem is more of a 'show you' person. And it's definitely not the showy displays Kaiba is capable of. I mean, let's be real. His income is not what it used to be. So it's more or less thoughtful gestures that happen frequently / gradually as the relationship progresses. Often times, it doesn't mean he's romantically interested. He'll do stuff for ANY of his friends --- new and old. But if it was heading towards a more romantic relationship, he might make you lunch or dinner more often. Or... do your laundry. Or something. He's the King of Games. Not the king of wooing people so this is the best you get. ( Although I'm sure buying someone flowers isn't a stretch considering he loves getting them himself as well as little trinkets / accessories )--- On the affection side of things, he is 1000% touch averse and flat out can't stand being touched without permission. Until he is comfortable with you, the most you'll get it a shoulder lean or hand holding. As he gets more comfortable, hugs are big. He enjoys any kind of platonic spooning, or head in your lap... feet rubs or rubbing of feet. Little back rubs. That kind of thing.

Thranduil

I honestly have NO IDEA since no one has come close to shipping with him romantically ( well, at least not in an unrequited sense ). I'm sure he may have doted on his late wife but that was centuries ago. The man has no romantic inclinations whatsoever by default. Elves are creatures that are often looked upon with desire. The way creatures desire him is nothing more than a means to using that against them for political gain. His mind is usually on what he can do to better ensure the protection of his people. That said, IF you somehow managed to keep his attention that goes beyond how he can use you, he's an elf of culture. So if you like reading, art, nature, swords, philosophy, ect and can carry on conversations of the sort, he's likely to share his reading collection with you. And that's a BIG deal. Elves, or at least his kind, are wary to show affection unless they are truly interested. If he ever kisses your forehead, brushes your hair, runs his fingers along your palms or arms, that's his way of showing affection. And that can be interpreted as platonic as well although the forehead kiss means something deeper to him.

Alucard

LMAO depends on his mood. By default, he's wary of romantic inclinations and thinks his father and mother were simply lucky to have found one another. Considering he's immortal, he doubts there's another vampire out there he could tolerate for an eternity. They all disgust him really. And humans? Well, he tends to avoid them for an array of reasons. But he can be pretty doting if he loves you. CONSTANT affection because he's so starved of it. He has no idea what it feels like to drown in love and be loved so if he ever gets it, he'll probably crave intimacy. Not sex. Just closeness. And I mean he's pretty open about his feelings for someone if it's official so he'll cook, clean, shower you with gifts... or the occasional head on a pike.

Louis

Oh Louis.... LMAOOOO Louis, Louis, Louis... My sweet, beautiful, melancholy child. .... Yeah, I got nothing. Listen. He's so pretty, but he's also angry and full of despair. It's embedded into him. He is capable of falling in love but he is wary af of vampires right now so he probably wouldn't go out of his way to show affection of any kind. He's more likely to repress it and leave you guessing while he's talking himself out of letting himself be wooed again. Louis' love language is glaring at you from across the dinner table, silently judging you. His affections are... well, I suppose if he loves you enough, he'll look the other way while you rampage and murder in the night.

[jungle321jungle]

A Royal Pain: Two

A public competition between brothers for the throne was quite literally the last thing Janus and Logan wanted to do in their lives. After years and years of doing everything in their power to reach this point, there should've been a reward—something other than crushed hopes. But what to do now? Resign to that fact? No, if they were being forced to play this game, then they’d rig it in their favor—or in their illegitimate younger brother's.

Read on Ao3 - Masterlist - All Chapters

Two: A Meeting of the Minds

“Find Virgil?” Logan repeated in disbelief. “Do you realize how difficult and dangerous that could be?”

Janus didn’t reply. Instead, he touched his face as he thought (an action which often made Logan wonder if Janus had even heard him at all). “If he left his will with the High Priestess rather than with our mothers, there’s a chance she might know where he ended up. Then, we can scoop him up, toss around the excuse that we want to fulfill Father’s final wishes, and then mold him into a fitting ruler.”

“Are you even considering the risks?” Logan pressed. “My Mother-”

“Would kill him and you. I know. But if we do this right, there’s a chance we can pull this off. We’ve got a few months until the festival starts. That’s plenty of time to find him and prepare for contingencies.”

Logan paused, taking in what he could see of Janus’ expression in the darkness. It was almost as if the glint in his eyes was illuminating the rest of him—it was clear he’d already made his decision. So it seemed all Logan could do was damage control. “Not a word to anyone,” Logan sighed in defeat. “Not even the twins.”

“Got it. And we’ll need to find an excuse to meet with the High Priestess.”

“You know there’s a chance she won’t know anything, right?”

“Of course I do.”

“I’m just making sure. For now, let’s lay low,” Logan suggested, standing and giving a stretch. “Keep our heads down and play nice. See what information falls into our laps if we pay attention. Then and only then, we talk to the High Priestess.”

“You want to gain leverage against her first?”

“Unless you already have something in your back pocket?”

“Not on her, unfortunately. But it seems we have a starting point?”

“A starting point,” Logan agreed. “We should get back. Work begins early.”

“Yes, yes. Night Lo.”

“Good night, Janus.”

~~~~

It hadn’t felt like he had slept long before he had been roused awake, but today, of all days, he couldn’t opt to stay in bed longer. He was quick to bathe and dress, which proved to be a good decision as Mother entered his room as she pleased. She said nothing at first, scanning the room as if she hadn’t seen it before, and then she took in him seated with his breakfast. “You should be reading documents in preparation,” she said finally. 

“I had intended to eat quickly and be the first to arrive at the meeting so I could catch up there.”

A hum came in reply as she sat across from him, a sign that she was pleased. 

“Tea?”

“I’ll pass. I’ve already eaten.”

They lapsed into silence for a moment or two while Logan simply ate, but it seemed she wanted a conversation after all as she gave a dismissive wave to the servants, who then made themselves scarce. “Yesterday, you only listened. Tell me, what do you truly think about the conditions of your Father’s will?”

He could have given many answers, but he chose the one that would cause the fewest ripples. “After the shock of it wore off, I realized it’s a perfect reflection of Father’s character.”

“That’s true,” she sighed. ‘He always wanted the option that would make the most people happy. When we were children, I’d always tell him that he’d be a failure of a ruler if he operated that way. But I suppose he did well enough... when given adequate help, of course.”

It was when she made statements like this that his parents' relationship confused Logan the most. Their marriage had only been to appease others, and the same could be said for Logan’s very existence. But the two had known each other since early childhood, so one would think they’d be at least friends- but ‘a tolerable husband’ was the fondest Mother ever got when she came to the man she married. Did she even care that he was gone? Logan couldn’t be sure. But he also knew better than to ask. “Do you have any ideas as to what these coming challenges will be?”

“Unfortunately, I don’t have a single guess. They could be regarding your Father’s morals, general leadership, or something entirely different. And given the sealed letters the High Priestess showed us, we can’t press her for information either.”

“Perhaps there are clues in Father’s office?”

“I don’t think so. I was combing through it yesterday.” She worked fast, as always. “But there’s one section of the office I am yet to check. I’ll do that today.”

The conversation continued in pointless circles until they reached the meeting room. But before they could go in, Mother reached up to briefly fuss with his hair. “You're truly grown up now, aren’t you?” she commented. “You used to be so small, hiding behind my dress.”

Logan paused for only half a moment before taking in the presence of a couple of nobles who had already arrived. And then pushed her hand away lightly. “You make it sound as if I was shy.”

“You were for a short while. Perhaps you were too young to remember.”

Logan resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he entered the conference room. The room itself was nothing special. A long table was to be filled with the nobles who made up the cabinet and the three opposing factions. But there was one thing different than usual, and Mother quickly zeroed in on it. “Why is there another table by your father’s seat?”

“I had his chair replaced with a table for two for Janus and me,” Logan explained. “You saw how everyone looked at the meeting before the funeral and how they urged us to sit there and start trouble before the meeting even began.”

“I can’t say I approve,” Mother started, moving away from Logan towards her usual seat. “But I understand wanting to skip the pettiness so we can get to business.”

Logan quickly caught up with her and pulled out the seat for her, expecting more words to follow. Thankfully, if she had any other complaints, she didn’t voice them, which allowed Logan the space to greet the few who had already arrived. 

When the meeting was about to start, Logan was unsurprised to find two key people were missing. But with all eyes on him and unasked questions about the different seating arrangements filling the air, he chose to start. “Welcome everyone. I’m sure my elder brother will be here soon enough, but we can start without him. Ultimately, this meeting will determine how work will flow moving forward, as my Father’s duties must be taken care of… Yesterday, The High Priestess revealed that the church holds the will. And upon reading it to us, it was determined,” Logan sighed slightly, already picturing the chaos that would ensue. Maybe he should’ve waited for Janus. His brother was better at dealing with this sort of stuff. “It was determined that no heir to the throne would be named at this time.”

For a moment, the room was silent. Dead silent. Then, it erupted all at once. 

“What!?” 

“This can't be true!”

“That doesn’t make sense!”

“Then it should go to the firstborn!”

“He’s not even here right now!”

“How is one to be chosen then?”

“Maybe if you’d shut up, he’d tell us.”

The chaos continued for a few more moments; truthfully, Logan was too tired to try and stop it. Instead, he just scanned their faces and reactions, mentally noting who was a part of which faction and how that faction broadly responded. Janus’ faction seemed quite happy; his own were touting his achievements, and the neutral party seemed more annoyed than anything. Overall, it was nothing unexpected. He was more than willing to let it go on until the conversations naturally died out. However, Mother wasn’t as she opened and then snapped her fan shut in a way that made it echo far louder than it should be able to (after years of this, Logan still wasn’t quite sure she got the sound that loud, but she always did it without fail. Was it magic? She would certainly waste mana to be more dramatic). 

When the silence quickly fell following the Second Empress’s action, Logan continued. “The wording was as follows: ‘My children shall compete in different challenges to determine who is best fit to become the next leader of our empire.’ As such, starting at the beginning of this coming founding festival, The High Priestess will open a sealed letter the late emperor left behind detailing some sort of challenge to be completed.”

“Were any details on the challenges given?” One count asked.

“Nothing. Just that it will last a year.”

“A year with an open throne?” Duke Ackroyd started. “And what are we to do in that time? That’s painting a target on our backs.”

“We share that concern, Father,” Mother agreed. “The only thing we can do at this point is let both princes fill in the role, and hopefully, that prospect is enough to dissuade our enemies.”

“ Hope? That’s not concrete! We need a ruler to show we are not falling apart at the seams! If not the princes, a reagent then!”

“They’re too old for reagents,” Duchess Regis disagreed. 

“An empty throne for over a year? Such a thing is unprecedented! A reagent will help smooth over the transition.”

“And I assume you’ll install yourself in that position?” She asked in an innocent tone before it quickly turned harsher. “Putting someone else on the throne directly conflicts with the Emperor’s wishes.”

A pause coated the room as the heads of the Second Prince’s and the Neutral factions squared off. Logan’s gaze darted to his aide off the side of the room, but unsurprisingly, Remus didn’t seem to be paying any attention and thus wouldn’t hold his aunt back. And, unfortunately, Roman was likely wherever Janus and his mother were. He’d have to do this himself. 

“The Church intends to publicize the will,” Logan said quickly before tensions could rise further. “Anything we do opposing it will be known far and wide. And that will only make us look worse in the eyes of the foreign courts.”

“At the very least, this will tell us who we can and cannot trust,” Mother said (thankfully stopping Grandfather from going further). 

“For now, we must continue to run this nation as if nothing has changed,” Duchess Regis said, scanning the room. “But to do that, we’ll need both princes, won’t we? Where is your brother?”

Logan could only shake his head in reply, “I am not his keeper.”

“It shouldn’t be a surprise,” a countess commented. “The First Empress is always late. She likely dragged him into whatever it is.”

Others gave murmurs in agreement, and Logan stood, not wanting to deal with any of it. “Though it’s been a short amount of time, a lot was said. Let us take a short break to let that sink in while I personally go find-” Logan’s attempt at escape was cut off by the doors slamming open to reveal Janus (and a tired and disheveled-looking Roman). Janus gave a nod to everyone with a seemingly unaffected expression, but Logan knew his brother well enough to know he was pissed. 

“Now he comes!” Someone complained, and others were quick to toss in their jeers. 

Janus gave the room a bright smile as he joined Logan as the head of the table, but he said nothing until they both took their seats. “Apologies, it seems someone wasn’t so happy about the little competition for the throne. As such, I was a bit preoccupied with the presence of assassins in my study this morning. So do forgive me for being late. I felt it would be a better choice to wash off the blood first.”

Any confidence that the nobles had a moment ago was instantly gone. 

“Her Majesty is interrogating the ones left alive?” Logan guessed, scanning his brother for any injury. 

Thankfully, Janus seemed fine. Actually, he seemed more annoyed than anything. “Yes, she promised to be thorough in doing so.”

“S-surely, this couldn’t be about the competition for the throne,” A Marquis of Logan’s faction started. “This was just learned before you arrived.”

“My mother was quite... vocal in her complaints yesterday. And I’m not naive enough to think that the loyalty of absolutely everyone in this palace lies with my family.” He ended the statement with a false chuckle as he leaned back in his seat, commanding all their attention with little effort. And then he kept going, with little subtlety in his words. But as he spoke, Logan just silently marveled as he watched Janus do what he was best at. And what he consistently failed to do. It was sort of ridiculous; Logan could do the work required of him, and he had been doing so for many years. When they were young, he had even started attending these meetings before Janus because he could understand the complex topics and their even more complex answers. Logan’s mind could manage the work. But he couldn’t manage the minds who worked for him. So, how on earth could he even attempt to make a grab for the throne? It should be Janus’, but he didn’t want it. And if he didn't, surely there was someone who was a better fit than the both of them. Logan could only hope Virgil was just that. 

Janus stretched his arms, the motion drawing Logan past the doubts and back to the forefront of his mind in time for the meeting to truly begin- because Janus had commanded it to be so. With just a simple: “Well then?”

~~~~

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